Never Stuck Around Long Enough For a One Night Stand, Part 2

[beckaandzac]

masterpost | part 1 | part 1a | part 2 | epilogue | art post

Jensen flies down to Dallas on a Friday morning. He gets in in time to set his stuff down in the room at his parents’ that used to be his, and then it’s a rush to shower, shave, and get into his suit for the rehearsal dinner. His family asks him questions in the car - from the airport, to the hotel where the reception will be - and he doesn’t have a lot to tell them just like usual, so he asks plenty in return. His sister’s getting married and his brother’s bringing the travel agency into the digital age and arranging new packages all the time for different niche clienteles. His dad’s golf game’s finally improving, but not as fast as his mom’s, even though she’s the one of them still working full-time. Mac’s going on a honeymoon to Cancun courtesy of the family, and they’re all pretty excited about keeping the details of it a surprise.

The hotel is nicer than Jensen expects, and he starts to wonder if his one sober, grey suit is actually serving him well. He wonders if there’s even a place for him at all. They have cocktails in the hotel bar before dinner, and he mingles with Mac’s friends from her education master’s program, all of whom go weirdly apologetic when they realize he’s the brother who drives big rigs for a living and doesn’t have a real home address. Jensen doesn’t come back to this white-collar world very often, and he finds he hasn’t missed much by being away. If he had stuck it out in college, he could be one of these people by now, with a job at a desk and a place to go home to every night. If he had a life like that, he’d probably be married by now, and isn’t that what he told Jared he wanted? A normal life like he always planned on?

He sits at the largest table in the dining room with his parents and Josh and his wife and Mac and her almost-husband, Kevin, and of course all of his family. Kevin’s sister Sara is on his left, and she’s the first person all night who hasn’t talked down to him because of his job. She has short dark hair that swings into her face when she laughs, and she works as a recruiter for A&M, so she has a lot to say about college football. He likes her right off, and then starts to wonder if it’s some kind of intentional set-up. She doesn’t have a date with her, and she’s not wearing a ring, but she’s also about to become legally related to him, so maybe it isn’t a set-up at all.

Sara seems to notice it, too, though. “Are we over here in the singles ghetto on purpose, do you think?” she asks, after Jensen’s dad and Kevin’s mom have given long, rambling toasts that will hopefully get shorter by tomorrow. “Or is it just the only way the boy-girl seating would work out?”

Jensen laughs. “Kind of comes out to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

“Seems to.” She glances across at the table of Mac’s six bridesmaids and their six dates, Kevin’s best man and his wife mixed awkwardly in. “We can’t be the only ones, though, right? There are going to be a hundred and fifty guests. Some of them must be going stag.”

He’s still certain his mom’s planned some girls for him to meet, even if Sara isn’t one of them.

“I sure hope so,” he says. “I need a date the next time I go to one of these things.”

She laughs. It almost seems like she’s flirting with him, but it’s been so long since a woman did that that he can’t tell. He’s not even sure whether he wants her to be, and that’s ridiculous. She’s pretty, and she’s got a great laugh, and she seems genuinely interested when he starts telling her about life on the road. “Although I get enough sweaty guys in my day job, so I’m not sure I could handle many more.”

Jensen doesn’t really notice when the dessert plates disappear from in front of them because Sara’s telling him a story about a kid who played QB in some little town outside Houston who literally sent out a list of demands to the schools who scouted him. “He really thought he was hot shit - pardon my French - but his record was pretty mediocre. His team almost made it to state, but it was more about their defense working together like they had some kind of hive mind going than about anything he did.”

“Sounds like he really shouldn’t have been trying to make demands then.”

“Yep. Kids don’t know that, though. They get so focused on being the hometown hero without ever thinking about the fact that their hometown is 3000 people who’ve all known them since they were born.”

Jensen can’t help thinking about Jared growing up in his tiny town in Indiana, playing in the band and never going farther from home than Six Flags. “It’s pretty easy to lose perspective. Especially when you’re a kid.”

Sara shrugs. “Sad but true. And the bubble’s gotta burst on all of us sometimes.”

Josh comes around to clap him on the shoulder just then, leaning down to whisper in Jensen’s ear, “Wrap it up, little bro. We’ve got a bachelor party to get to, and the ladies are having a pub crawl of their own, it sounds like.” He’s off again before Jensen can respond, but as he looks around, he realizes that most people are starting to gather their bags and coats, milling around and getting ready to leave in gender-separated clumps. He really has spent the whole night talking to Sara.

“Looks like it’s time for the drunken debauchery part of the night, huh?” she says, pushing back her chair and standing.

“Guess so.” Jensen stands, too, and he immediately finds himself looking down at Sara, who’s grinning up at him, and even in her heels, she can’t be more than five-foot-five. He’s gotten used to being grinned down at in the last few months, familiar with the angle of Jared’s smile to his. And he can’t even justify thinking about Jared right now.

“You’d best keep my brother out of trouble, okay? He’s kind of a lightweight.”

“That goes double for my sister, then, and if strange guys start popping out of cakes at you, you may need to reconsider your evening.”

Sara laughs. “Never in a million years.” She holds out her hand. “It’s been a real pleasure, Jensen. I guess we’ll be sitting next to each other again tomorrow, won’t we?”

“I guess we will.” He’s genuinely looking forward to it, and that feels pretty good.

The guys all go out to a strip club in Dallas, caravanning into the city and circling for a place to park. The place doesn’t exactly scream class from the outside, but once the bouncer herds them in through the heavy outside door, it turns out to be a hell of a lot nicer than any of the places Jensen’s stopped at along the highway in the middle of the night, with their sleepy-eyed girls watching the clock and the floors that were always sticky no matter what time of day you went in. There’s a set of smoked glass doors leading off to one bar, and another on the other side of the open area around the stage. Josh points at the table reserved for them right beside the widest part of the stage, where there’s a gleaming metal pole just waiting for a dancer.

Jensen has never even met Kevin before, but he joins in with everyone else, jostling him towards their table and making a fuss over him so that everyone in the club knows he’s getting married tomorrow. There isn’t a girl on stage right now, but a waitress in short shorts and a cropped t-shirt comes by to take their order, and she outfits Kevin with a little prison cap and a plastic ball and chain cuffed to his wrist. “Sweetheart,” she says. “We’re gonna show you the best night of your life.”

Music starts to blare out from the speakers beside the stage, a little intro beat, and the waitress steps back with a knowing grin. A woman in cut-off jean shorts, boots and a pink cowboy hat steps out onto the stage, and the song flips over to “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” The girl struts out to the front of the stage and starts to sway in time to the beat of the song, dipping the brim of her hat down low over her eyes before tossing it away on the first chorus. Her red hair’s done up in pigtails, and Jensen likes watching her dance before she even shimmies out of her boots and starts working around the pole, hanging off it one handed as she pops the button on her shorts.

Everybody’s shouting and clapping, and Kevin’s best man feeds him a couple of fives when the cowgirl circles around to their side of the stage in a little g-string with a sheriff’s badge on the front. Her shirt is hanging loose off her shoulders, and she shrugs it off as her song hits the bridge. The only thing between them and her breasts is a triangle bikini top that matches her thong, and then she unties that too and lets it fall, her full breasts swaying as she dances. She leans in to take Kevin’s money with her teeth, and he looks about ready to pass out. Jensen likes the smug little smile she gives them that says she knows exactly the effect she’s having before she wraps her legs around the pole and spins fully upside down.

There are more girls after that, and a bunch of shots of tequila, and Jensen’s laughing with a bunch of strangers about who knows what. It’s been a really goddamn long time since he had a night out like this. He’s aimlessly turned on by the time they leave the club at one, thinking about all that soft, naked skin, and he tells the others the cowgirl was his favorite when they’re comparing notes.

Josh is the designated driver in their car, so when they make it back to Jensen’s parents’, Jensen’s the only one left, hogging shotgun and staring out the moonroof. He’s still feeling happily buzzed, and he hasn’t been totally holding up his end of the conversation for the last few miles, but Josh is being pretty tolerant of that. He hands Jensen a glass of water before saying goodnight, and then Jensen lays on his childhood bed in his underwear, one hand cupped lazily over his hard dick and not sure what to do about it. The thought comes into his head that he could call Jared and Jared would surely talk him through it, almost like he was there touching Jensen’s dick himself. And why the hell is that hotter than thinking about the girls at the club? Why does thinking about Jared make his dick stand up and take notice, make his asshole throb pleasantly? He resents his own body’s reaction, and he tries to roll over and go to sleep, but he can’t. He strokes himself off as quick as he can, thinking of nothing, and it helps enough that he drifts into unconsciousness.

The wedding takes place in the church Jensen grew up in, and he looks around at the familiar space as the guests settle into their seats. He’s never sat this close to the front of the room before, in the first pew with the rest of his family. Mac is beautiful in her long white dress, the lacy train flowing behind her. She looks radiantly happy as she says, “I do.” He doesn’t know Kevin that well - hell, in a lot of ways he doesn’t know his little sister all that well anymore - but it’s pretty cool to be here and watch her smiling up at her new husband.

“Next time it’ll be you,” his mother says, dabbing her eyes and patting Jensen’s knee.

Jensen nods tightly and wishes he could stop thinking about Jared every other breath.

He dances with Sara at the reception, leaning down to smell her citrusy perfume, his hand spread against her lower back. They fit nicely together, and he likes her. He likes her smile and her sense of humor. She’s blunt and she doesn’t seem to mind that he’s a truck driver. She’s exactly the kind of woman he’s been looking forward to meeting. But when she rests her head on his shoulder and asks what he’s doing after the reception, he freezes. He doesn’t want to sleep with her. He can’t even think about sex that isn’t inherently connected to Jared anymore, and he doesn’t know when that happened, but he doesn’t like it.

He’s by the buffet table getting a shrimp puff when Jim claps him on the shoulder. “Your sister makes a mighty beautiful bride,” he says.

Jensen grins. “She does.” Mac’s sitting with her bare feet in Kevin’s lap, her cheeks pink from laughing, her dress bunched around her knees.

“Bet everyone’s telling you you’re next.”

“Something like that, yeah. But one of Mac’s sorority sisters caught the bouquet, so maybe I’m safe for awhile.”

“I saw your friend Jared a few days back,” Jim says, and Jensen feels like he’s been trapped into a conversation he really doesn’t want to have on top of everything else. “He seemed sort of down about something. Not his usual peppy self.”

“That so?” Jensen keeps looking at the table like he’s completely fascinated by the spring rolls.

“I don’t need to tell you what I’m thinking because I know you’ve already been through it all for yourself. But you should keep in mind, Jensen, I just want to see you happy. That’s what your family wants, too.” He squeezes Jensen’s arm and goes back to rejoin his wife.

Jensen calls Jared that night, against his better judgment. “I miss you,” he says when Jared picks up. He’s standing on his parents’ patio while his extended family keeps the party going inside. Mac and Kevin are on their way to the airport for a late night flight, but that hasn’t slowed down the celebration much.

“Hi, Jensen,” says Jared. He sounds sleepy. “What do you mean you miss me?”

“I wish I knew, man.” Jensen laughs bleakly. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Everything I do reminds me of you, and I can’t even flirt with a perfectly nice woman at my sister’s wedding without wondering what you’re up to while I’m doing it. It’s not… I’m not used to this.”

“So, you’re… what? What do you want me to say to you?” Jared’s voice is soft, like he’s waking up slowly, and Jensen thinks about lying in bed with him, feeling Jared all warm and easy against his side.

“That it feels like that for you, too, maybe? I mean, if it doesn’t, okay, but…” Jensen takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. The night is cooling off, and he’s just in his shirtsleeves, dress shoes starting to pinch his toes.

Jared’s quiet for a long time, or it feels that way. Jensen can hear people laughing inside, voices coming close to the back door, and he tenses. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this right now. “So you’re at least a little bit gay?” Jared asks.

Jensen takes a breath. He hates that word, hates the way the implications nag at him, but he also knows what Jared means. “Yeah, I guess I am. This girl was really cool, Jared, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Jared laughs a little, and Jensen smiles in spite of himself. “That’s… yeah. I like that.”

“So what happens now?”

“You come by and see me the next time you’re in Indiana. And maybe I’ll even buy you dinner.”

“Is that it?”

Jared laughs again. Jensen is a little dizzy, like it’s finally sinking in just what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he can feel the champagne from the reception going to his head. “What else do you want, man?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea.”

“Hey, you sound upset. I don’t know what I said. I want to see you. Whenever you can get here. I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay. Yeah. That’s good.”

“Was there something else?”

God, he’s really doing this, he’s really asking Jared for… whatever this is. “No, I guess not.”

“Don’t not come, okay? I get that it’s hard, but if you just get here, I’ll be here. And I’d like… I’d really like to see you.”

“I’d like to see you, too.”

He barely hears anything anyone says to him for the rest of the weekend. He can’t think of anything but what happens next. He looks forward to the two weeks before he can get back to Jared, and he doesn’t know how the hell he’s going to handle it.

In the end, it’s easier than he expects. He watches the road and sleeps when he has to, and gets his cargo where it’s going on time. He’s dependable and he doesn’t get distracted. He doesn’t let himself. And somehow, every time he picks up the phone to call Jared, he decides not to. He doesn’t know what else he could say, feels full up with too many thoughts, too much uncertainty. He’s never had a friend like Jared before, and he doesn’t know what to do with any of the feelings he has that are nothing like friendship. It’s too much. It’s all too much to be summed up in a phone call. He texts a few times instead, quick little messages of where he is and what he’s doing, and Jared replies in kind. But it’s not like a real conversation.

When he walks into the diner the next time, seeing Jared is at once a relief and even more terrifying. There’s no one else visible, but there’s a plate and a cup of coffee in one of the booths. “Come here, quick,” says Jared, lunging over the counter and kissing him before Jensen can even respond. Jared sucks at his lower lip for one brief moment before pulling away. “Sorry,” Jared says, grinning. “That guy’s going to come out of the bathroom any second, and I wanted to do that a lot.”

He’s his cheerful, excited self as he makes Jensen’s pancakes, chattering away about his customers, asking Jensen questions about all the places he’s been lately. But every time their eyes catch, Jensen’s stomach tightens. He loves the way Jared looks at him, even though it makes him flush with flustered anticipation. He can’t help wondering what comes next.

“Jake’s coming in to cover for me at 11,” Jared tells Jensen after his one other customer has left. “So I’m free in 45 minutes.”

“Want me to get a room again?”

“If it’s not too much trouble. But I’m not above fucking you in your truck if I have to.”

Jensen shivers. “I think it would be better in a room.”

“I agree.”

Jensen starts to lean across the counter, feeling bold, but then the bell above the door jingles and in comes a stream of bickering kids. He pulls away again, leaves Jared looking at his mouth. “I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“Yeah. As soon as possible.”

Jensen doesn’t know what to do when he gets into the cool darkness of his hotel room. He’s suddenly overwhelmed, knowing Jared’s coming to meet him, knowing there’s a lot he hasn’t even let himself think about over the last few weeks.

He takes a shower, spends a few minutes fingering himself under the hot spray, thinking about Jared fucking him because it’s easier than thinking what he’s going to say before, or after. At least in this area, he knows exactly what he wants.

He opens the door to Jared in nothing but a towel, and Jared reaches out for him before the door even closes, pulling him into a kiss. He never knew he would feel like this about kissing a man, never knew it would be this effortless to open his mouth to the slow brush of Jared’s tongue. Jared untucks his towel and gets a firm grip on Jensen’s ass, guiding him back towards the bed. “Is this okay?” Jared asks, nuzzling at Jensen’s mouth and not backing away. “Did you want to talk first?”

“No,” Jensen says, settling his mouth against the side of Jared’s neck, licking at his salty skin. God, he’s never wanted to talk less in his life. There are so many better things to do with his mouth.

Jared’s hands wander, fingertips groping in the crack of his ass, brushing over his hole and making him gasp. “What did you do here?” Jared asks. “Were you touching yourself, waiting for me?”

“You know,” Jensen replies. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I want you to say it. Tell me how you touched yourself thinking about me.”

“I touched myself thinking about you,” Jensen repeats. “I wanted you to fuck me. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Jesus, Jensen.” Jared stops talking then, pushing Jensen back onto the bed and lying down on top of him, hands fluttering down Jensen’s sides. He sucks at one of Jensen’s nipples, then presses kisses down the plane of Jensen’s stomach. Jensen grips a hand in his hair. Everything Jared does just turns Jensen on more, makes him want to open himself to Jared in every way he can.

There are a lot of ways they haven’t touched each other yet, and Jensen’s pretty sure he wants to try all of them. Within reason.

Afterwards, when they’ve both collapsed loose-jointed and sweaty into each other, Jared says, “It won’t be easy.”

Jensen nods against his shoulder, doesn’t make him explain just yet. “I know.” They’re coming up fast on the part where they have to talk.

Jensen wakes up in the morning with his face pressed into Jared’s shoulder, Jared’s hand curving over his hip. He’s naked, and Jared’s naked, and he doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to get up and say something casual and leave. And he lets that feeling sink in, the sense that this is something he wants to keep. He throws a leg over Jared’s and curls in closer, figures he can sleep for a few more hours. But Jared stirs under him, rubbing his lips against the top of Jensen’s head in a sleepy kiss. “Morning,” Jared says. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock. Guess you wore me out.”

Jared’s answering smile is soft and sweet, and Jensen leans up to kiss him, nuzzling into Jared’s mouth like this is what he’s always done. Jared kisses him back for a moment and then pulls away. “Maybe I should go out and get myself a toothbrush if we’re going to be doing this. I didn’t bring one.”

“You can just use mine,” Jensen says carelessly.

Jared tenses against him. “I can’t,” he says firmly. “When you brush your teeth, your gums bleed, even just a little, and I…”

Jensen stumbles over the thought that such a casual offer, such a casual mistake would make Jared uncomfortable, but then he realizes the size of the thing he’s forgotten. The thing Jared probably isn’t ever allowed to forget. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I could get you a toothbrush of your own, that I could keep. If we’re going to make this a regular thing.”

“If we’re going to make it a regular thing, I can just bring my own toothbrush. It’s just… is this going to be a regular thing?”

Jensen leans up on one elbow to look at Jared’s face. “I thought we pretty much went through that last night. I want to keep doing this, for however long you’ll let me. But I may forget things sometimes, like anything else. Toothbrushes just, I’m not used to thinking about them much.” There is a laundry list of things Jensen doesn’t usually think about, but he doesn’t mention that. He figures Jared must know that, too.

“I wish you didn’t have to,” says Jared. He’s apologetic, and Jensen doesn’t know what to say to make easier on him. He doesn’t know much about how to do any of this.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a toothbrush.”

Jensen’s no good at romantic gestures, but a week later he mails Jared a shoebox full of toothbrushes, and when Jared calls him laughing, Jensen knows that was the right choice to make.

Jared’s birthday is in July, smack in the middle of summer, and Jensen has to swap some things around to make sure he’s free, available to take an entire day with no thought to deadlines or travel conditions or any of that.

“Anywhere you want,” Jensen offers on the phone from a truck stop in eastern Tennessee. “I’ll bring my car up, and we can ride in style. Think about where we could get to in a day.”

“Can we go to Chicago?” Jared asks.

“If that’s what you’d like. Catch a baseball game - they’ve got two stadiums, there’s gotta be someone playing - or go out to Navy Pier and ride the Ferris wheel until we’re dizzy.” Jensen hasn’t done either of those things. He hasn’t been to a ball game since he stopped playing more than a decade ago. But he wants to give Jared whatever he wants, and it’s almost frightening how that comes upon him sometimes, how it changes the way he thinks.

“I feel like one of those Make A Wish kids,” Jared says, laughing. “You don’t have to do anything special for me. I’m not dying.”

“That’s a shitty reason not to celebrate your birthday. The whole point is you’re alive and there’s one day out of the year when people celebrate that.” Jensen knows he’s never thought about his own mortality before as much as he has in a couple of months with Jared. He’s wondered what would happen if he got into a wreck, jackknifed on the highway or spun out and couldn’t get someone there fast enough. His line of work isn’t 100 percent safe (which is probably true of all jobs, honestly), and he’s thought about what happens next, but being with Jared makes it all matter more.

Jared relents on the subject of birthdays, which is good because Jensen doesn’t have any more tools in his kit for making Jared like his own birthday. He gets a giant cup of convenience store coffee and drives up from Cincinnati as early as he can stand. He’s wearing a shirt that isn’t stained or made out of flannel, and his jeans are freshly washed courtesy of the Laundromat down the street from his building in Cincy. His room is just a room in an old row house, and he shares a bathroom with a guy on the other side - never sure if it’s the same guy it was the last time he was in town - but he’s got a lock on his door and a bed bigger than the berth in his truck, and that’s pretty much all he needs from it right now.

The day is sunny and warm, and Jared keeps his elbow propped in the open window all the way to Chicago, drinking it in as they cruise along the highway, his fingers tapping to the beat of Springsteen’s greatest hits. It takes a little getting used to every time Jensen gets back behind the wheel of a vehicle that isn’t his rig, being so low to the ground, eye level with everyone else.

Jensen exits the Dan Ryan on the south side, skirting through Hyde Park and around the science museum so he can take Jared up the whole length of Lakeshore Drive. The lake is so big that even on perfectly clear days like this the other side is lost in haze. If he can’t take Jared to the ocean, this is the feeling Jensen wants him to have, of looking at something endless. Jared practically hangs his head out the window looking at it, and Jensen steals glances at him as he drives.

They park in a garage by Navy Pier and walk out into a crowd of people, families herding children, teenagers in little knots, couples on dates. Jensen thinks about the fact that that’s pretty much exactly what they are, shoves his hands into his pockets because there’s no way he can touch Jared like that. He still isn’t used to the things he’s feeling, the way his stomach swoops when he’s made Jared smile.

Out on the pier itself, they get frozen lemonade and stand at the water’s edge, leaning on the railing and listening to the lake. They watch the boats, tourist cruises and sailboats and yachts, moving across the water at varying speeds, shining in the sunlight. Jared closes his eyes and tips his face up in the sun.

“Good birthday?” Jensen asks.

“Best I’ve had since my parents let me have a pizza party at Chuck E. Cheese when I was ten.”

Jensen laughs. “You wanna try out the Ferris wheel?”

“You bet I do.”

Jared doesn’t know anything about Chicago, and honestly, Jensen doesn’t know much more than that, so they wind up walking a lot in the afternoon, along the river and through Millennium Park, past the lions on the steps of the Art Institute, and through the heart of the Magnificent Mile.

“Is there anything you want to do?” Jensen asks as a train clatters by on the tracks overhead.

Jared hesitates, and Jensen knows there’s something he’s been holding out on. “Come on,” he coaxes. “Anything. You can tell me. The aquarium? The zoo? Another Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Boystown,” says Jared, and somehow Jensen wasn’t expecting that, although maybe he should have. Jared’s never denied that he was gay, never been ashamed of it with Jensen. But Jensen’s only acquaintance with that part of the city is sex with strangers in clubs he would never go to except in desperation.

Jared shakes his head a little, trying to make it less than it is, trying to make it not matter. “I just want to be someplace I can be with you and not think it’s going to get my ass kicked. I want to be someplace there are… other people like me. Maybe have a couple of drinks. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” says Jensen firmly. “Okay. Yeah, we can do that. They follow the red line tracks to the nearest stop and take the train up to Belmont. The sidewalks are crowded, and Jared’s eyes are everywhere, taking everyone in, a crowd rushing for the Cubs game at Wrigley Field to the north, the sound of pre-game announcements echoing dully in the air even this far from the stadium. He doesn’t ask how Jensen knows where they’re going, how he learned to navigate this part of the city, but Jensen makes up a story in his head anyway, a true story like the ones he tells Jared about trees or rivers or the lights of Manhattan, but shaped into the kind of narrative that makes more sense than real life ever does. He can’t justify some of the things he’s done, the fact that he had sex with men he despised and never thought of them again, that any of them could have been his friends if he’d stopped to talk with them.

Jensen doesn’t know anything about the bar they stop at when they’ve gone far enough east on Belmont. It’s got a rainbow flag hanging outside and a flier for a drag show in the window, and he can see Jared trying not to grin too big. He insists on buying Jensen a beer even though it’s his birthday, and they sit at a little table by the window. Two guys younger than either of them walk past outside holding hands, arms swinging between them. “What do you think it would be like to live in a place like this?” asks Jared. “Where nobody cared if you were…” He hesitates before saying the word, as though Jensen will still object to it. “Gay.”

“I’m sure people still care. It’s a big city. There are plenty of assholes here willing to give you shit for it, same as anywhere else.”

“But not like at home.”

“No,” Jensen agrees.

“I think I’d like to live in a city. At least there are bound to be more people who aren’t, you know.”

“Homophobic,” says Jensen, not a word he would have ever imagined himself using six months ago.

“Yeah.” Their eyes meet, and Jared just sees him so clearly sometimes, more clearly than maybe he wants. “You’ve been here before, right?”

“Not this bar. Not here, but yeah.” He takes a deep breath and starts to tell Jared the story he’s been building up for ten crowded blocks and fifteen minutes in the bar. It still doesn’t make him feel good, telling it, letting it go like a confession. Jared doesn’t say anything while he’s talking, just nods along seriously to show he’s listening, just like he’s always listening. At some point, he puts his hand over Jensen’s on the table, and Jensen doesn’t even flinch, barely even notices how their fingers fall together.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, meaning it.

“For what?”

“All that. All the things I did.”

“It’s not like I didn’t know any of that. You were pretty up front with me.”

Jensen taps his thumb against Jared’s knuckles and shifts a little in his chair. “But it’s different now.”

“Of course it is. I don’t know, I just don’t see why that has to mean you have anything to be sorry for. It’s not like I’m proud of everything I’ve done, either. I mean, I’ve obviously made some bad choices.”

It hits Jensen all over again that he doesn’t know how to do this, how to be in a relationship for real with a guy, maybe with anyone. But he thinks that’s what this is, as the callus at the base of Jared’s forefinger rubs against Jensen’s skin, and he doesn’t want it to stop. “Okay,” he says. He glances at his watch. “I guess maybe we should try and get back to the car soon. It’s getting late. Is there anything we missed? Anything we didn’t do yet?”

Jared looks at him very solemnly and says, “It’s perfect. This has been a perfect day.”

Jensen feels himself flush, knows how the color must be staining his face right on up to the roots of his hair. “Happy birthday,” he manages.

“Thanks. I mean that. Thanks so much.”

They walk back to the train in the cool breezy evening and clatter back down to the garage where the car is parked. Jared catches Jensen’s eye and then looks away. “Do you need to go back to Cincinnati tonight?” he asks. “Because you could come to my place instead. If you have time.”

Jensen hesitates for a moment. He has a trip he has to run the next day and he’ll have to be back in Cincy by then to pick up his rig and his load. But if he leaves early, he can spare the night. And he’s never been inside Jared’s place, although he knows where it is. “Yeah, I can do that. Just no hanging around too long in the morning.”

“Good,” says Jared with the sweetest smile.

Jared’s apartment is three rooms above a flower shop in the tiny downtown, and the creaky stairs up from the side door smell like plant food and fresh dirt, reminding Jensen of his mom’s garden back home. The wood floors are dark with age, and Jared’s furniture is shabby and mismatched, but everything’s swept clean, and there’s no clutter. Above the sofa is a framed newspaper article about the opening of a new firehouse in a nearby town. Jensen squints at it in confusion until he sees the byline. “You write for the newspaper?”

Jared shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes. I like to do it when I’ve got time, and it pays a little. My mom got that framed for me, my first byline. It’s stupid, but you know how parents are.”

“Not stupid,” says Jensen. “That’s really cool, with you liking stories so much and everything.”

The way Jared brushes that off tells Jensen it matters a lot more than he’s saying, but he lets it drop, lets Jared walk him through the rest of the apartment. “So, anyway, here’s the living room, and that corner over there is the kitchen, and that door that looks like a closet is the bathroom.”

“Don’t hear you mentioning the most important room in the house,” Jensen says, stepping up close to him and cocking his head towards the open door of what must be the bedroom. He can hear the rumble of the window air conditioner that’s keeping the small apartment cool, and there’s a sliver of streetlight coming through from outside. It’s late, and Jensen feels bold, touching Jared’s cheek and pulling him down into a kiss.

He doesn’t see much of the bedroom with Jared tugging at his clothes, touching him all over, his mouth on the side of Jensen’s neck, his collarbone, his nipples. “Want you so much,” murmurs Jared, pushing Jensen down onto soft, worn sheets.

“Anything,” offers Jensen, wrapping his legs around Jared’s waist. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” asks Jared, and the sly way he says it makes Jensen’s dick go even harder in his boxers.

“Yeah,” says Jensen, arching up under him as Jared’s hands grab onto his ass. “It’s still your birthday.”

“Did you ever get a birthday spanking? One smack for every year, you know?”

Jensen shakes his head, but he can already see where this is going, and he has to admit he kind of likes it.

Jared kneads at his cheeks, voice slipping low and dirty. “You have the most perfect ass. I wanna get you up on all fours, mark it up, leave you a little something to take home with you.” He hesitates. “If you want.”

Jensen pushes him off and rolls over onto his belly, pushing his ass up high in the air, giving his answer without words. Jared tugs Jensen’s boxers down, feeling up his ass and pressing a quick, open-mouthed kiss at the base of Jensen’s spine. Jensen’s never done something like this before, is still learning about the kind of sex that isn’t just rushed mutual gratification.

Jared’s hand molds around the cheek of Jensen’s ass, and Jensen tenses without meaning to. “Relax,” Jared tells him. “God, Jensen, look at you.” His thumb skates down Jensen’s crack, teasing, and Jensen gives a shaky moan against the pillow. He’s not sure what to expect when Jared pulls his hand away and then brings it down hard on the round of his ass, a loud smack and a hot burst of pain. He can’t anticipate the way the radiating throb of it will turn him on, make his cock smack wetly against his belly. “Can you count for me?” Jared asks.

“One,” says Jensen.

Jared pauses before every smack, letting Jensen feel the heat of it, the pain that pulses with his heartbeat. He didn’t know if he would like it, but by the time he’s panting out, “Sixteen,” he’s dizzy from the pleasure, just from the feel of Jared’s hands on him, the imprint of them on his skin. Jared gives him six smacks in quick succession, alternating sides, and Jensen knows it’ll be over soon. “Twenty-two,” he whispers, and Jared runs a hand over the hot flesh of Jensen’s ass and the tops of his thighs before laying down two more. “Twenty-four,” sighs Jensen, burying his face in the covers. He thinks he’s done, and he can practically feel himself sinking into the bed in relief and disappointment.

“And one to grow on,” Jared says, and this time his hand lands right on the tensed sac of Jensen’s balls, gentler than the others but still hard enough to send a spike of pain and pleasure all through him. He cries out in surprise.

Jensen doesn’t move, barely even breathes for a minute after, trying to get himself under control. He can feel Jared behind him, watching him in the glow from the streetlight. “Jesus, Jensen,” he whispers, and Jensen moans as Jared’s fingers stroke over his throbbing ass, tracing the reddened outlines on his skin before reaching between his legs and stroking his dripping cock. “Was that good? Did you like it? You’re so hard. God, you feel so good.”

“Yes,” Jensen manages, too sensitive everywhere, needy and aching.

Jared leans in to kiss the places his hands have just been, mouthing over Jensen’s cheeks until Jensen’s panting and lightheaded, and then dragging them apart to run his tongue straight down the crack. Jensen makes a noise then, strangled and desperate, his asshole clenching under Jared’s tongue. He’s so close to coming as Jared keeps licking at him, spreading him wide apart and squeezing at his sore ass, tongue working inside just a little and then teasing around his rim. “Please,” Jensen whispers shamelessly. “God, Jared, please fuck me.”

There are condoms and lube in the nightstand, and Jensen trembles as he watches Jared grab them. He’s still wearing his t-shirt while Jensen’s naked, and somehow that makes it even hotter, Jared too desperate for him to even undress all the way.

Jared fingers him slowly, crouched over Jensen’s back and whispering in his ear, how wet and tight he is, how hot, how much Jared wants him. When he finally slides his cock into Jensen’s ass, it’s all Jensen can do not to fall flat on the bed, stretched wide around it, the flesh of his ass still throbbing hotly as Jared settles against him.

Jensen comes sooner than he wants to, and Jared fucks him through it, one hand stroking his spurting cock as the shudders work through him. Jared’s thrusts get harder and slower, and Jensen braces against the bed as Jared’s cock presses even deeper into him when he comes, buried completely in Jensen’s sore ass.

He pulls out immediately, like always, tying off the condom and dropping it in the trash before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Jensen to collapse bonelessly into a puddle of his own come. The bed is too narrow for anything except cuddling, and Jensen presses his face into the side of Jared’s neck as Jared slides back into bed beside him.

Jensen gets up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, skirting the scant living room furniture to the door. He fumbles for the light switch in the unfamiliar darkness, feeling his way up the wall until he reaches it and squinting at the sudden brightness. The room resolves itself into expected shapes as he pisses, but he finds himself staring at a shelf fixed to the wall above the toilet tank containing two different prescription bottles and a weekly pill organizer like his mom has, each segment carefully labeled for morning and evening medication. It hits him all over again that Jared could get sick, that he’s taking all this stuff to control something that’s already inside him. Last time he thought too much about it, he was so scared he didn’t talk to Jared for weeks.

Jensen flushes the toilet and goes back to bed, stroking a hand through Jared’s hair, feeling overwhelmed with sudden tenderness, with the certainty that he doesn’t want to run this time. Jared blinks his way out of sleep, murmurs a confused question. “’S everything okay?”

Jensen kisses him, folding into Jared’s side. “Fine,” he says, reassuring himself as much as Jared. “Just fine.”

Their conversations change subtly over the summer. Now that Jensen knows about Jared’s newspaper writing, it’s one more point of connection, logging onto the local paper’s website and checking for Jared’s stories, asking him what he’s covering just then. Jared’s shy about it, which just makes Jensen want to know more. He still trades Jared his own stories about the places he passes through, and every once in a while, Jensen gets himself off to the sound of Jared’s voice on the phone. He doesn’t sleep with anyone else.

One night, he’s telling Jared about a Blueberry Festival in a little town he passed through in Michigan: the parade of antique cars and pickups full of grinning kids, the blueberry cobbler he got from a stand in the town square. Jared keeps asking questions, getting more details, making Jensen remember as much as possible. “Have you ever thought about being a reporter for real? You’ve got quite a knack for getting people to tell you stuff.”

Jared is silent for a minute. “I don’t think I could,” he says finally. “For a while I thought maybe I’d go back to school, but…”

“But what?” Jensen knows why he left college, but Jared sounds so wistful, it’s obviously not the same for him.

“It’s been too long. And I don’t hate where I am now, working at the diner and writing stuff sometimes. It’s fine.”

“You also keep saying you’ll go stir crazy if you don’t get out of there. There’s plenty you could do even if you don’t want to go to school.”

“I have to be realistic, though.” He’s talking so quiet that Jensen can barely hear him. “Listen, maybe we should talk later. I have to go into work soon.”

Jensen knows he’s hit a nerve, but he has no idea what to do about it.

Every August, Jensen gets a new lease on his room in Cincinnati slid under his door, and every year he thinks that maybe he’d like to live someplace else. Maybe someplace with a real kitchen. Maybe someplace with a window that doesn’t look out on a blind brick wall. And every year he figures he’s too lazy to make any kind of real change. But this year, instead of a lease under his door, he gets a letter saying the building’s being sold and he needs to get out by September 15. And that changes the game a little.

Jared catches him on his phone looking up apartments for rent in Bloomington and Indianapolis on craigslist the next time he’s at the diner. “You’re spreading out the search from Cincinnati, huh?”Jared asks.

“I just figured I’d look. Plenty of places I could work from.” He doesn’t have any real ties in the state of Ohio, no reason to stay anyplace in particular if that place isn’t, well, here. And he can’t imagine living in a town the size of Jared’s with everyone knowing everything he does all the time, when what he does all the time is Jared.

“Would you be around more if you lived in Indiana someplace?” Jared says hesitantly, watching over Jensen’s shoulder as his breakfast sizzles on the griddle. “Would it make a difference? You never seem to go back to Cincinnati if you can help it anyway. Would it be the same?”

Jensen wants to see Jared as much as he can, drinks in every moment of contact like he’s starved for it, and sometimes it scares him, knowing that about himself. Jared’s little apartment, his greasy diner, and the little span of miles between them are all becoming familiar territory on the days Jensen isn’t on a trip.

“It’s about the same distance from any of the three,” Jensen says. “Bloomington, Indianapolis, or Cincinnati. I’d still have to be driving back and forth to get here. It would still take time.”

Jared serves him up bacon and eggs and then goes to take care of a little group of new customers, smiling warmly at them and chattering about the cherry pie. Jensen watches him from the corner of his eye.

When Jared comes back, he says, “Or I could go with you,” hunched in close over the counter before he’s off and away again with the coffee pot. Just leaving the words hanging in the air, out of the blue like they’ve known each other for more than six months and it makes all the sense in the world.

There are too many people in the diner now for Jensen to grab him by the arm and make him say what he means, so he bites his tongue and keeps looking, spreads his search into two-bedrooms just out of curiosity. It’s nearly an hour before Jared is free enough for Jensen to talk to him.

“What do you mean ‘go with me’?” Jensen asks bluntly.

“I mean I could go with you. We could split the rent and I could get another job and we could just… live that way. I don’t have to stay here. Every place needs cooks, and I’ve got a winning personality and plenty of work experience.” He winks. It’s so different from what he’s like anytime Jensen mentions his writing.

“The university’s in Bloomington too,” Jensen replies, almost like a challenge. “Bet they’ve got a journalism program you could check out.”

Jared’s grin fails and he drops his eyes. He looks hurt. “It was just a thought. I’m fine here, too.”

Jensen imagines sharing space with Jared, coming home to him, and the joy that fills up his chest is almost big enough to drown out the fear. “I’ll think about it, okay? I’ve never had a roommate before. I don’t know if I’d be really good at it.”

Jared nods, and then busies himself filling the dishwasher so they don’t have to talk anymore.

Jensen drives out to look at an apartment just at the edge of the University of Indiana campus the second Friday in August. He tells himself it's because that sort of neighborhood is cheaper and there are plenty of places for rent at this time of year. But as soon as he finds himself texting Jared a picture of the big maple tree out front, he has to recognize he's not just looking for a place for himself, and he’s got a plan for Jared, too.

The landlord is a woman in her forties, and she explains that the house was broken up into apartments back when her grandparents owned the building in the '50s. The one Jensen's looking at takes up most of the top floor, and the ceiling slants down from the high Victorian peaked roof.

"It's a two-bedroom," she points out. "Would you be living alone?"

Jensen scratches at the back of his neck. "I'm not sure yet. I've got a friend I might share with."

"We'll want their name on the lease too then," she says. "Just one friend?"

"Yeah," says Jensen. "Just one. I travel a lot for my job, but he can be around more." It sounds so reasonable, barely even like an excuse. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

don't rent a tree. too cold in the winter. u need an apartment. ;)

Jensen grins in spite of himself.

"The bathroom's just been redone this summer," says the landlord. Jensen takes a picture of the big new bathtub and sends it to Jared.

a bed is more comfortable, says the reply.

Both the bedrooms are small, but still bigger than the room Jensen's got now, bigger than Jared's bedroom that could barely fit both of them. Jensen texts him pictures of the sun spilling onto the scarred hardwood floors, one looking onto the small backyard, the other looking into the street. Jared would have to practically kneel to get into the corners of either of them.

Jared doesn't text back this time. He calls, and when Jensen answers, he says, "Is this a real invitation?"

Jensen looks away from the landlord, back out the window. "Yeah. It is."

"In that case I want the bigger bedroom and first dibs on the tub. And we should probably talk about the rent. Assuming that all works out though..." Jared is trying and failing to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"I'll call you back," says Jensen. He turns back to the landlord with an apologetic smile. He's already determined to do anything in his power to make this happen.

masterpost | part 1 | part 1a | part 2 | epilogue | art post