J2 | When the World's Burned (2/2)
Part one
Boots and Williams find him in the new sun, and Jared can't express his glee. He is able to cry out when they try to wrap his leg, gauze and padding pressing into the wound and bringing fresh blood to the surface.
“You’re no Florence Nightingale,” he grunts out while trying to keep his breathing steady so he doesn’t blackout again.
“And you’re no Bear Grylls,” Williams huffs back.
“Ain’t drinking urine.”
Boots smiles and pats Jared’s cheek. “Good boy.”
He nearly bites his tongue off in pain as he hobbles along with each of the guys trying to keep his balance. No matter how badly he leans to one side or the other, they do their job and keep moving back to camp.
Jared is equally excited and mortified when he spots the rest of the group on the front steps and suddenly a lone figure breaks apart to come running at them.
As Jensen’s shape forms more clearly, he’s yelling at Andy to get supplies together in the living room, and Andy’s running off to their house.
“You dumb asshole,” Jensen grumbles as he takes Boots place at Jared’s left.
Once they’re settled on Jensen’s living room couch, Jensen says it again with his eyes focused on unwrapping the bloody bandages on his leg.
“Was doing pretty good,” Jared replies. “Until a branch attacked me.”
“This wasn’t a walker?”
“No. Almost wished it was, though. Burns like hell."
Jensen laugh shakily as his fingers tense in the bloody denim surrounding the wound. “Good thing it’s not. I was gonna cut off your leg.”
“Are you serious?”
“If I had to!”
Andy comes in with fresh linens and Jensen directs him to solidly press them against Jared’s leg. Misha’s cutting the jeans off above the knee-ignoring Jared’s delirious complaints about his only pair-and Boots sets a hand towel in Jared’s mouth, also ignoring Jared’s protests there.
Then Jensen’s cool hands wrap around the fire-hot skin of Jared’s shoulder. “On the count of three,” he says with a nod at Boots, who now holds Jared down at the chest. It’s all too quick for Jared to stop, and when Jensen gets to two, they’re each shoving to force a pop in Jared’s shoulder.
Jared screams through the towel, flinches at the collective gasp of the rest of the group hovering nearby, then feels a warm sense of relief soak through his bones once his shoulder’s set back in place.
He’s barely got his breath back when Jensen’s checking his leg and washing it out with alcohol, bringing another round of screams and cursing, and flinging the washcloth across the room. Panting through the pain, Jared glances at Andy. “Dude, you should probably not be here for this.”
Jensen quickly turns to his son. “Andy, go on and get the sewing kit and some damp towels.” He looks at the rest of the group hovering in the tiny living room and shoos them off. “He’ll be fine. He just needs some space now.”
“Thank you, Lord, yes,” Jared sighs, dropping his head back on the arm of the couch. Once the room’s cleared, he stares at the top of Jensen’s head as its bowed to inspect Jared’s leg. “And thank you, for not killing me.”
A brief glance up and Jensen is surprised, then back to concerned and focused on Jared’s wound. “Why would I kill you?”
“For coming back. After what you said …”
Now Jensen stares back for a few seconds. “How stupid are you?”
Jared swallows and breathes deep, going dizzy in instants. “I dunno. I lost a lotta blood.”
Suddenly, just as suddenly as that night on the garage and under the stars, Jensen’s got a hand clamped at the back of Jared’s head and his lips tightly slotted to Jared’s. He pulls back almost as fast as he’d gotten there, then sighs harshly. “Don’t you ever die, you got it?”
“I can’t promise you-”
“Just don’t.”
“Okay,” Jared whispers.
They keep eye contact even as Andy returns, setting the sewing kit to the floor next to Jensen then coming round to set a cool, damp washcloth to Jared’s forehead.
“I got extra thread from the attic,” Andy says. “The leg looks pretty bad.”
Jared pats Andy’s shoulder. “If it’s as bad as I think, you probably should run.”
“Dad’ll need a hand.”
He eyes Jensen threading a needle with black thread trailing down to the floor and holds his breath. “I think your dad also needs some medical training.”
“He’s CPR certified.”
“That sounds like enough,” Jared says lightly, now staring at Jensen, who seems slightly embarrassed.
“I’ve watched a lot of medical shows.”
“Oh, yeah, Grey’s Anatomy is totally a ‘How to’.”
Jensen rolls his eyes as he sets the needle at the base of the wound, not going in just yet. “Not like that,” he defends hotly. “I could leave it open? Or you want Boots coming in with his stubby fingers?”
Suddenly his stomach twists and his mouth waters, nausea overtaking him. “No, but I could probably use him to knock me out first.”
“Baby,” Andy and Jensen mumble together.
**
Over the next few days, he sleeps on and off, which isn’t surprising. What is, is that he does so in Jensen’s bed in the back of the small mother-in-law ranch while Andy takes the couch. It’s a huge step-up from the lumpy couch pulled into Williams’ room, where the old man snores worse than a buzzsaw.
He sleeps hard like the ground thanks to Misha’s large stash of recreational drugs cum painkillers, and wakes when Jensen or Andy change the dressing, when Miss Loretta or Gabe bring him food and drink, and especially when Jensen comes to bed at night.
The first night, Jensen eases the awkwardness by checking the cut and subsequent bump on Jared’s head. It’d been last in the long list of fixes, something Jensen insisted would be more cosmetic than dangerous.
The second, he asks Jared where he’d been when it happened and patiently listens to Jared’s tired, compact story of a random trip and fall.
The third, he asks what Jared would’ve done without the flaregun.
The fourth, he wonders what happened to Jared’s gun.
He explains that they’d been through his sack to sort the supplies and clean it up from the long week Jared was gone.
Jared finally has enough sense of mind to answer without mumbling most of his words.
“I dropped it.”
“When you fell?”
Jared’s flat on the mattress and, for the first time, feels fully dwarfed by Jensen sitting up in bed with his back against the dusty, weathered headboard. It takes a few moments to drum up the words so they’re honest but not alarming. “No. I was using it, and I let it go.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t walkers.”
“It wasn’t.” He swallows and wishes for water, which Jensen seems to read as he suddenly has a glass in hand to hold to Jared’s lips for small sips. It doesn’t help his dry throat, and he admits, “I didn’t want to become one.”
“Jared,” Jensen whispers, eyebrows coming in tight, creasing his forehead. “Did you really think you would?”
“Look at me,” he insists. “How could I not?”
“But you didn’t do it. Why?”
Jared can’t say the words, even when they’re so heavy on his mind and heart. He only stares back and hopes Jensen can see the flicker of his eyebrow and the small, nervous smile in the soft lamp on the bedside table behind Jensen.
It must be clear enough because Jensen slowly leans down to Jared and kisses him. It’s the third time, but so much more than before. This time, Jared responds, tipping his head up, moving his lips around Jensen’s, and willingly accepting Jensen’s tongue into his mouth. He slips his tongue around it while lifting his good hand up to Jensen’s cheek, just to touch and keep him close.
In due time, the kiss becomes more insistent and Jensen moves in closer. Jared would happily push more, but there’s a trigger of pain in his shoulder and he pulls back with a sigh. “I don’t think I can do this. Not now.”
“That’s okay,” Jensen murmurs before kissing him again, long, deep, and slow.
**
Andy starts bringing him breakfast. He smiles and laughs and tells Jared everything he’s missing up at the main house. It mostly involves Miss Loretta flicking Misha with her towel whenever he slips in innuendos or smacking Boots in the back of the head when he curses. There are a few tales of Jensen and Gabe getting into a mess of dirt in the garden, and Williams getting stuck in a particularly soft and deep hole caused by recent rain.
“Your pops has to be happy for the rain.”
“He’s digging out in the garden all day,” Andy replies, slightly distracted by his own bowl of oatmeal. “When he’s not here.”
Andy also asks all sorts of questions, as if he knows Jared’s got nowhere to go.
“What was your favorite team?”
“The Cowboys.”
“Dad always yelled at them.”
Jared smiles, both at the image and at Andy. “Yeah? Me, too.”
“He said Romo was a useless shit.”
Now Jared chuckles, pointing at him. “I don’t think you should be saying that.”
Andy isn’t shamed by Jared’s words, only insistent in asking, “But it’s true, right?”
“Way true.”
“Did you ever play?” Andy asks, refusing to pause for Jared’s staggering breath.
“No, but I liked basketball.”
“Did you like the Spurs?”
“I did,” Jared replies with a small nod.
“Dad thinks they’re useless shits, too.”
“Andrew Daniel!” Jensen shouts, coming through the house and into the bedroom. “Would you quit saying that? And leave Jared alone while he rests.”
“He’s fine,” Jared insists. He scoots up a bit more on the bed, granting Jensen space to sit at the end of the bed. “Except for him letting on that you’re a Mavericks fan.”
“We can’t all be perfect, can we?”
They share a smile as Andy stretches out on his side of the bed and continues asking them about baseball, football, basketball, hockey, anything that keeps them all talking.
**
One morning, Andy drops off lukewarm oatmeal then runs back to the main house in favor of drawing lessons with Williams. With more lit hours to the summer days, the man has agreed to teach everyone in the hour following breakfast.
“I didn’t know he could draw,” Jared says in between spoonfuls of lightly sugared cement.
Jensen’s opening the drapes and blinds in the bedroom, the light nearly blinding Jared as he attempts to finish breakfast. With spots in his eyes, the bright sun immediately ramps up Jared’s morning grogginess, almost makes the undercurrent of itchiness and pain in his shin more obvious.
“His uncle or cousin was a cartoonist, and he was a colorist? Something like that.”
“The things you learn,” Jared muses, making Jensen smile, which lately helps Jared to as well. This morning isn’t one of those times.
“Speaking of …”
“Learning? I’m not doing any of that anymore. Passed school with flying colors once upon a time.”
Jensen sits in the open area of the bed and narrows his eyes. “You’re a little spunky today.” He doesn’t wait for Jared’s impending sarcasm, and simply asks, “What did you do?”
Jared stares back at him. “I didn’t do anything?”
“No, like a job, for a living? You’ve never told me … or anyone, really. All we know is you’re a loner who’s stubborn as shit with terrible balance.”
The oatmeal mostly gone, Jared sets the bowl to the table beside him then aims as innocent a look at Jensen as possible. “So you wouldn’t believe I was a gymnast?”
“Never even made the list,” Jensen says dryly.
“That’s a shame.” Jared reaches beneath the blankets to pat his hand over the dressing instead of scratching, then winces when even that hurts. “Think you can take a look at this? It’s a pain again.”
“Changing the subject, I see.” Jensen pulls the blankets away, carefully undoes the bandage, and lightly presses against the pink, puffy skin at the main knot of the stitches. “Probably an infection.”
“Great,” Jared huffs, a bit of fear rising up.
Jensen shrugs and glances up at him. “We can drain it and see how it does from there?”
“Like that’ll be enough.”
Jensen watches Jared closely. “Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not alright,” he complains. His voice gets tighter the more he talks. “I’ve got a damned infection now. I’ve survived four years in the zombie apocalypse, a dislocated shoulder, concussions, and a torn leg, but I’m gonna die from an infection? It’s fucking bullshit.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and tests the bottom end of the sewing, which also makes Jared flinch. “You’re worse than Andy with a paper cut.”
“Paper cuts aren’t a joke,” he pushes. “You could totally bleed out without Band-Aids, which we don’t have after my accident. Then when you get an infection, you go into septic shock and die.”
“Were you a doctor?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Jared answers swiftly, almost irritably. “My brother was, and he still died like that.”
Jensen finds Jared’s eyes and frowns. “When?”
He hadn’t meant to let all that out, but it’s getting easier and easier to talk around Jensen. “About a year in.”
Sitting back on the mattress, Jensen furrows his brow. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”
“Yeah, well,” he sighs. “When would that come up?”
Jensen shrugs. “Anytime?”
“Kind of like your wife?” Jared spits out. On Jensen’s instant flinch, Jared wants to suck the words right back. “I’m sorry, that was … harsh.”
“To say the least.” Jensen rewraps Jared’s bandage then gets off the bed in record time. “She died just after the first attacks,” he says quietly, staring out the windows and likely searching for the house, for Andy. “She was a grade school teacher and ran out once the kids were safe, probably looking for us. We found her too late, and a year later we found Miss Loretta’s place.” He suddenly pins Jared with a tense look. “Now how ‘bout you?”
He swallows and starts playing with fraying stitches in the dingy blanket. His eyes glaze over as he thinks back on the last four years and even further, which is fuzzier than ever after being safe these last few weeks.
Just as Jensen’s leaving the room with his head down, Jared speaks.
“I was an IT junkie. I sat in front of computers day and night, just to avoid getting hurt by people. I hated dealing with people, and then everything happened and that’s all I was faced with.”
Jensen turns in the doorway, leans against the frame, and patiently waits for Jared to let more out.
“Jeff and I were the only ones in San Antonio at the time. Sister was off at college, parents on vacation. We went off together, but he was a damned savior anyway and contracted something from someone along the way.”
He’d always known in the back of his head it was the main reason he avoided staying in one place, making connections, and offering help. Now it’s screaming at him, tearing at his insides, and his eyes burn with angry tears.
“He was just trying to keep people from dying and he did instead.” Jared blows out a rough sigh. “And I almost died running away from all that.”
“But you came back, too,” Jensen says with a soft, caring smile.
Jared doesn’t have a response to that and is thankful when Andy comes pounding into the house to look for more paper.
**
None too soon, Jared gets to his feet with a crutch Gabe cobbled together, and joins dinner. With him on the disabled list, they’re back to non-perishables, but they’re all happy he’s up and mobile as they fuss over him. Miss Loretta goes so far as cutting up his SPAM.
“It’s not even real meat,” Jared argues playfully, “I’m sure I can manage to chew it."
She swats his hair on her way back to her chair. “Can’t take any gratitude in anything, can you?”
Jared’s bringing his fork up to his mouth when Andy clears his throat, shifting in his seat beside Jared. “Dad, can I say grace?”
“You always do,” Jensen says with a smile.
“No, out loud. So everyone hears it.”
Jensen nervously glances down the table. As far as Jared’s seen, Misha, Boots, and Gabe have never been fans of God and have often acknowledged life after The Turn as Hell on Earth. Still, the group allows it, and Jared bows his head out of respect to the confident voice coming out of the young boy next to him.
“Thank you, Lord, for the continued food, no matter how good or bad things get. Thank you for having a home for all of us to share. And thank you for keeping us all together and alive. Most of all for bringing Jared back to us.”
Jared stares at his plate, can’t breathe or even mumble the requisite Amen.
For too many days to count, Jared’s woken up to Andy bringing him breakfast, Miss Loretta or Williams handing over lunch, and Jensen finishing the day with dinner and staying until they’ve both fallen asleep. Some evenings he’s well enough to kiss the heck out of Jensen and reach out for more, but never able to do anything without pain stopping them. Other times he’s too tired or sore for even pleasantries and takes enough drugs to get back to sleep. That’s when he dreams about recovering and hitting the road again.
None of this fits together-not Jared’s dreams and this place Andy calls home, and definitely not his instinct to run and the internal pull to stay put for a man with a son, a man who lost a wife and is probably just seeking out home again for him and Andy.
“You okay?” Andy asks with an elbow to Jared’s side.
He remains quiet and it’s Jensen who quietly answers, “He’s probably tired from walking up here. Eat your beans.”
Jared picks his head up, finds the whole table watching him. “I’m actually not that hungry,” he mumbles, putting his fork back to the plate.
“It’s the SPAM, isn’t it?” Gabe jokes. “Gelled meat is no one’s dream meal, even in the apocalypse.”
He fakes a smile, knows it’s weak and poorly placed, and fumbles up to his feet. “If y’all don’t mind, I’m just gonna …”
Jensen rises as well and Jared shoots him a puzzled look. “I’ll help you back to the house.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just go to my couch.”
He’d thought his statement was innocent enough, but Jensen flinches at the tail end of it. Slowly, Jensen sits down again and gets right to cutting his SPAM and green beans.
Back in Williams's room, Jared can still hear the silverware clink against the dishes and murmurs of conversation. He even makes out Andy asking, “Is Jared staying here again?”
Also hears the tightness to Jensen replying, “I don’t know, Andrew.”
Andrew … always Jensen’s warning to Andy to stop whatever he’s going after, and now Jared’s got a heavy weight on his chest.
**
For the sake of preserving energy, Jared stays on the couch for a few days. He makes every meal in the dining room and offers as many smiles and pleased hellos as he can, but it’s obvious that Jensen and Andy are far from being themselves whenever Jared joins the group.
He starts planning to leave, for good this time. Then curses his leg every time he gets off the couch.
**
With the sun in the sky later in the evening, everyone heads outside after dinner to take advantage of the light and warmer weather. Everyone except Jensen, who’s in the kitchen cleaning up after pork and beans that Williams had heated up in the stove.
Jared lurches in with his crutch, clearly making enough noise to get anyone’s attention, yet Jensen remains staring out the window as his hands work through the easy regimen of washing, rinsing, and placing dishes on the counter.
With a rough swallow, Jared works on what he wants to say. All he gets out is: “I should’ve stayed gone, huh?” Jensen looks over his shoulder, eyes dim, and Jared shrugs in return. “Right? That’s what you told me, standing right here.”
“We were tired of you leaving without a word.”
“Everyone got along fine before I came here. What’s the difference if I leave?”
“Maybe there’s no difference to them,” Jensen says, pointing at the window, sounding a bit angry. “But there is to me and Andy.”
Jared knows that, has known it for weeks, but hates thinking that’s his only place here. There’s always been more on his plate. “I’m no use to anyone now. Can’t hunt or cook or clean.”
Quietly, Jensen asks, “You think that’s all you are here?”
He fusses with his crutch and steps to the side for better balance. “There’s no point in me still being here. I can hardly get around from room to room, can’t even pull weeds in your garden, can’t be with you.” He huffs and adds, “I can barely stand right here.”
“Then why are you?” A smile small appears on Jensen’s face, strangely comforting even when Jared was set on being petulant and stubborn. “Why’re you still standing?”
“Because it’s the only thing I can do!”
Jared’s fingers clench into the palms of his hands and his eyes burn with impending tears. For four years now, he’s used hunting and runs as the only means of stress relief and purpose in this ugly world. Now he’s been stripped of all possible skills, denied access to so many of the things he was a part of before. The guys head out on runs, fix up the garden, rebuild the outer fence, hunt with little success, all while Jared has been stuck in bed. There’ve been close calls and accidents, none as serious as Jared’s, but enough to shake up the group. He knows it’s not his fault, yet he feels it all the same.
“It’s not the only thing,” Jensen insists. He comes closer with hands carefully set on Jared’s hips, steadying him while calming him, too. “You can relax and let us help you. You’ve helped us enough since you’ve been here.”
All of Jared’s anger dies down and he’s tired and weak. Probably from all the standing and hobbling around before and after dinner, or maybe just from maintaining this closed-off, bitter persona.
Jared drops his head down, rests his forehead to Jensen’s, and closes his eyes. “I don’t want to be anyone’s burden.”
“You aren’t.”
“Feels like it.”
“Your feelings are wrong.”
Jared sighs and shifts in place, then winces when there’s a flare of pain in his shin. Even Jensen had admitted a week after the incident that it wasn’t a great tie, but there’d been no one else and it would do in their world.
In a quick flash, Jared imagines meeting Jensen way back when, and is reminded of a happy family with the white picket fence. He also thinks of his own life of 12-hour days in front of the computer, programming language scrolling past his eyes far more than his own life actually did.
Their world, now, has no real rules. There are the things they can’t have that were creature comforts just a few years ago, but Jared knows there’s a different kind of offering here that wasn’t possible back where he’d been.
Taking what is in front of him, he sets his arms over Jensen’s shoulders, fingers sliding into the back of Jensen’s hair. He tips Jensen’s head up so he can take it in a languid kiss that turns heated quite fast, especially considering they’re in the kitchen with the rest of the crew just outside. Without the crutch, Jared leans heavily into Jensen, who easily accepts the weight and presses back, pulls in, holds tight. It goes on for ages, it seems, until there’s the ruckus of Andy running up the back stairs with the rest of the group heading in as well.
They each side eye Jared and Jensen, but no one says a word when Jensen and Andy help Jared to the other house.
And Andy doesn’t blink when Jensen asks him to head back up to the house and finish the dishes that had been aborted, even mentions that Miss Loretta could use a hand with folding laundry.
Jared does stall the moment it’s just him and Jensen again. In the bedroom. Where Jared’s stuck on the bed and Jensen’s standing at the foot of it, especially when Jensen turns to him with eyes locked in and his chest rising and falling with tense breathing.
“Don’t freak out,” Jensen starts and Jared laughs tightly.
“A little late for that.”
Now Jensen frowns and glances everywhere but at Jared’s face, even as he nears him. His cheeks go pink and his sight barely lifts high enough to look Jared in the eye. “I’m not an expert at this or anything.”
Jared’s mouth goes dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth when he tries to swallow. He knows, is about 99.9 percent sure what it is, but still asks, “At what?”
Jensen makes a face, one that screams for Jared to get a grasp on the force between them, one that is strangely attractive. As if Jensen could get even more so.
“You were married,” Jared jokes to lighten the moment, “to a woman, I can’t expect magic.”
“She’s not the only person I’ve been with. I’m not going in blind.”
Jared’s all too glad to hear person instead of woman. There’s great relief in his chest and he finally breathes normally and manages a meaningful smile. “Good, so you won’t hurt me.”
“I hope not,” Jensen replies with a smile. He finally climbs onto his side of the bed, crawls up to Jared, kisses him, and immediately presses his palm over Jared’s crotch. Jared nearly squeaks at the instant pressure of Jensen’s hand rubbing him, and Jensen pulls back, their lips smacking in the quiet room. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, I swear.” Jared brings Jensen’s hand back over his dick and presses down over it with just the right pressure and the perfect rhythm. “Just been a while,” he breathes out.
With a light smile, Jensen leans in and touches their mouths together, talks right at Jared’s lips. “Me, too. So I don’t mind a little instruction.”
Thinking of telling Jensen exactly what he wants, even if not physically possible in this moment, lights a fire in Jared’s belly. It ignites every nerve ending then zeroes in on their hands both groping through denim. He surges up to take Jensen’s mouth, presses his tongue deep inside, and tilts Jensen’s head the right way with his free hand tight around the back of Jensen’s head.
It really has been a long time, far too long to realistically recall, and he knows that there’s added weight to it being with Jensen. After all the push and pull, and Jared’s own ego not letting him stand still for long enough to see what’s in front of him until he was bedridden and forced to rely on everyone around him, he finally sees what’s right in front of him.
A chance.
A chance to be a part of other lives, to create memories, to be part of a home, and to maybe be himself again.
Through all this, his kisses become slow, almost non-existent, and Jensen pulls back as he senses that.
“Everything okay?”
He slides his hand down the back of Jensen’s neck and squeezes on the way up. “Yeah, definitely.”
Jensen sets a small kiss on Jared’s mouth, smiles, and runs his hand over Jared’s dick to start the rhythm again.
Jared is certain he’ll be done in a minute, and quickly pulls his jeans open, his underwear down, and brings his dick out for Jensen to touch. Which he does, instantly wrapping his hand around Jared’s dick and stroking steadily. Jared’s skin flares with the warm, sure hold of Jensen’s grip, and he has to break off the kiss. With his head pressed against Jensen’s, he pants through high, whiny moans, and finally feels it all break within. He digs his nails into Jensen’s shoulder, bites his lower lip, and comes over Jensen’s hand, all while still remaining as still as possible to avoid disrupting his leg.
Once he gets his senses back, he sees the solid bulge in Jensen’s jeans and reaches for it. His large hand covers Jensen’s groin and squeezes, drawing a moan out of Jensen’s tightly closed mouth. “You gonna let me return the favor?” Jared murmurs.
“Of course.” Jensen slides his pants down and before he gets much further, Jared pulls on his wrist.
“Come over here,” he insists, tugging Jensen over to straddle his waist. For once Jensen is higher than Jared, just a few inches, but enough to overwhelm Jared with all of him. He leans up to kiss Jensen while slipping his hand up Jensen’s chest and his other hand goes down to fist Jensen’s hard dick. It’s wide and long as a steady weight in Jared’s grasp, and warmer than Jensen’s always comfortingly warm body.
Jensen rocks into Jared’s hand and sets his arms over Jared’s shoulders. His fingers play with the edges of Jared’s hair then tightly twine around the strands when Jared quickens his fist. Their mouths are messy as Jensen is spun around and pulled undone while Jared’s strokes are fast and sure, finally bringing Jensen off.
They stay in their positions for far longer than they should, slowly kissing and exploring one another’s mouths. Both legs go numb, having fallen asleep, and Jared's lips are going raw, but he doesn’t want to let go of Jensen.
*
Jared’s eyelid is peeled away from his eye, letting the bright sun in. He cringes and bats at the little hands trying to hold his eyes open.
“What are you doing?” he groans with a sleep-rough voice.
“Dad said to see if you were awake yet.” Andy leans in, large green eyes mammoth this close. “Are you awake yet?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying.” Louder, Andy yells towards the rest of the house, “I think he’s lying!”
“Andrew Daniel Ackles!” comes Jensen’s semi-amused voice from beyond the wall.
Jared takes Andy’s hands away and slowly sits up. He shuts his eyes against the dull ache in his shoulder. It’s likely to rain; his shoulder’s become a reliable forecaster, but Jensen will be happy to hear the garden will get some life. “All three names, dude. You’re in trouble.”
“Andrew,” Jensen calls again, closer, and more firm. He playfully swats Andy as he nudges him out of the bedroom. “Go on up for breakfast.”
“What about you guys?”
Jared’s about to explain he intends to drug his shoulder when Jensen offers, “We’ll be up in a minute. Go on now.”
Once alone, Jensen sits at the edge of the bed, bumping their hips together and setting a cool rag on Jared’s shoulder. “You were tossing and turning all night.”
“One of these days I’ll be whole again.” Jared sighs, leans back against the headboard, and shuts his eyes. This world doesn’t have ice, but it has Jensen’s firm hand with a damp rag, and it’s the best Jared can get first thing in the morning. “Then what’ll you do with yourself?” he jokes, peeking one eye open.
Jensen bites his lower lip to hide a smile. “Kick you outta bed so I can sleep?”
Jared smirks and uses his good hand to tug at the edge of Jensen’s shirt. “Like you could.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” he mumbles just before moving in to kiss.
Immediately, Jared brings his arm around Jensen’s back to keep him close in the lazy kiss. There’s no rush here, and yet Jared has no intentions to waste time. He just wants to stay in bed and kiss the daylights out of Jensen, and he does his best to fulfill that deep want. They’ve done just this for long hours before, in all those nights when Jared’s mobility was next to nil. But this is after … after Jared’s mind turned over and told him what’s right for him is again a possibility.
And now The Turn is completely altered. It’s no longer the end of life, but the beginning of a new one. One Jared actually looks forward to waking up in.
Before their mouths are bitten red, Jared pulls back and smacks his lips together. "Now, I think someone said something about breakfast?"
"You up for a walk?"
"You gonna catch me if I fall?"
Jensen easily smiles. "Of course."
Once outside, Jared smiles at the sight of Andy and Boots tossing a football back and forth. Memories from long ago flood him, but he pushes them back for new ones.
“Hey, Andy!” he calls out, stepping away from Jensen to stand on his own. “Let’s see your spiral!”
It’s wobbly and slow, but it makes the distance to Jared’s long reach. Jared learns that he can move a bit easier than he thought, and that Andy has a stronger arm than a kid his age probably should.
Most of all, he learns that an afternoon of catch with Jensen, Andy, and even Boots is a better prescription than bedrest, so he stays out here all afternoon.