NC-17 | Such a Beautiful Mess That's Breaking My Skin
Title: Such a Beautiful Mess That's Breaking My Skin
Rating: NC-17
Characters: J2, mentions of Jensen/Danneel and Jared/Genevieve
Words: 4,200
Warnings: Angst Level Orange
Summary: Jensen didn't have a chance to tell Jared before he asked her, and Jared crumbles under the whole thing.
Notes: A) Danneel is gorgeous. B) They are gonna make the most perfectly gorgeous babies ever. C) No harm meant here, just cruising through Angstville. Title and cut text from James Morrison's "Pieces Don't Fit Anymore"
Beta: Excellence from coyotesuspect &hearts
You. Have. Five. Messages.
Thursday. 4:57 pm
Hey, I gotta talk to you. Gimme a ring back.
Friday. 10:08pm
Ya eat so much beef ya gone deaf? Gotta talk.
Saturday. 11:34am.
J, man, serious. Call me.
Saturday. 7:21pm.
I’mma fly down there. Giving you until tomorrow. 8am, dude.
Sunday 8:22am
Don’t make me do this on your voicemail. C’mon, man.
End. Of. Messages
*
Jared steps into the house, feeling the heavy fog cloud every bit of space. He knows why it’s there. He’d heard the messages. Didn’t listen, no. Didn’t have to. He heard everything else.
*
The house is quiet. Jared likes it that way. His mind buzzes, but nothing else keeps him down. He can just be. Until Jensen is there with a tentative, “Ya home?”
“Back here.” But he doesn’t move from his perch on the deck. Just remains on the steps and watches the dogs run themselves ragged.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies still not moving.
The sliding door skids open, then leaves them in silence. Jensen nudges a toe at Jared’s side. “Your phone broke?”
Jared glances up briefly, squinting against faint sunlight and thinking of their past. Days when he didn’t know what was happening, was lost happily in the haze. He answers, “No,” before looking back at the lawn.
Jensen leans against the porch railing and crosses his ankles, his arms, and just watches. First Jared then the dogs. Then Jared again. “She said yes.”
Jared fights staring at his folded hands, fights moving, even breathing. His eyes lower a bit to the grass but remain looking outward, in front of him, like they always should have. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Jared swallows then stands and whistles for the dogs to come back in. He smirks at them, hustling across the green, up the steps, and into the house. His eyes meet Jensen’s and he gives a short smile. “Cool. Congratulations.”
*
Jared is quiet because he can be. It’s the one choice he has right now, and he’s sticking to it.
“You know, I wanted to tell you. Before I did it.”
Jared glances up, void of any real response. “Really?”
“Yeah. That’s why I kept calling.”
He goes back to the grill, flipping one chicken breast then another, just to fill time. “I had family stuff. Told you I’d be busy.”
“Could’ve called me late. You know I’d pick up.”
“Really?” He knows it cuts Jensen, but he doesn’t look up, doesn’t have to see it. The brief silence is enough to feel it.
“Man, c’mon,” Jensen pleads as he moves closer, leans against the railing. “You knew I had the ring.”
His voice is quiet but it still slips out, “Didn’t think you’d give it to her.” Never thought you would.
“Well it wasn’t gonna fit on your finger,” he kids.
Jared looks up, first time he really looks at Jensen since he came back. Since he came back engaged and taken and real. This thing had never been real, and now he’s wrecked. He’s back to focusing on the grill, shuffles the meat off onto a serving platter then nudges it across the sidetray, closer to Jensen. “A little dry, but you know,” he says a little too easily. Like you like it.
“You not gonna eat?”
He nearly squints but instead shrugs a little. “Nah, I’m good. Bet you’re starved. Been a long weekend.”
*
Fact of the matter: Jared loves Danneel. She’s caring and funny and gorgeous and bounces off Jensen so easily. Just like Jared does, like he always has. But she also understands Jensen and trusts him and has his heart. Like Jared never did.
*
Jared’s stomach is empty but his mind is, too. He can’t manage to even think. There’s nothing in his mind beyond a ring and Jensen down on one knee and Danneel’s tears of happiness. It’s the last thing that stings the most.
He stares into the fridge, resting an arm up high on the door, serving more to prop himself up than the door open. Nothing looks good, and he’s not even sure what he’s doing, or how long he’s doing it, or how much longer he will.
His eyes hurt and his stomach is soft, and he’s amazed that it’s like they all say … dull ache in his chest. He wonders how oxygen even makes it into his body. Every muscle is taut and it only gets worse when he hears Jensen enter the kitchen, hears him breathing like he can’t manage the words either.
A stool scrapes along the tile. Jared won’t turn around but he sees it all in his mind: Jensen settling at the island because it’s happened so many times before, folding his hands, pressing them down into the marble, flexing his fingers. It’s what he does when he’s fighting for the right words, like his hands have to work the thoughts out, punch every thought into the air before he can say it. Jared wonders if Danneel knows that, but he won’t ask.
Beer looks like a good idea. About twenty would be great, but he’ll take one. He gulps down a quarter of the bottle before he turns to Jensen. The smile’s tight before he says, “So. When’s the big day?”
Jensen’s head tips, his eyes asking Really?
Jared sips more but his eyes keep on Jensen, practically daring him to say something.
But he doesn’t, and neither does Jared.
*
The messages, all five of them, were not from the Jensen he knows. They were from someone who’s worried and unsure and incapable of saying what has to really be said. That point almost makes this easier to take. Almost.
*
Jensen prods. He needles and he nudges and then he pushes Jared to talk. It starts with simple questions about the anniversary party in San Antone, the dogs traveling, his sister in school. Goes up to what Jared’s been doing since he got back, if he saw the Cowboys game. And crescendos into, “Jesus, J. Come on. Just say something.”
Jared's onto his third beer, which is nothing compared to the size of his body. But it’s everything considering how little he’s eaten in the last two days.
“What do you want me to say? Huh? You need me to apologize?”
Jared’s eyes flash over. They see the depth in Jensen’s glare. He finds his voice, though it’s broken and small. “You want to?”
Jensen’s hands rise and then flip out, fingers clenching out and in. “I’m sorry, okay? But you knew I was going to. I’ve had the ring for a year.”
His mouth tips up, as does his tone because he’s nearly amused here. Not sure why. He doesn’t want to make Jensen into the bad guy. Wouldn’t dream of making it Danneel. But what else can he do? “You sat on it for a year.”
It’s obvious that Jensen gives up right then. His shoulders, his eyes, his mouth, his voice … everything drops in an instance. “Yeah, I did. Why’s that make me the asshole? For waiting ‘til it was good and right.”
Jared nods, looks away.
“J, we wouldn’t’ve - ”
That gets his attention and Jared stares, stopping Jensen from more. “Wouldn’t’ve what?”
“Jared,” he sighs.
“No. Say it.” Jensen shakes his head, but Jared won’t leave it now. Can’t. “Wouldn’t’ve what?”
Another sigh. “Jared.”
“Wouldn’t’ve made it,” Jared nods and it’s like the restraints are off and he can move closer to Jensen. He stabs fingers into his own chest hard enough he knows there’ll be marks tomorrow. He’s looking forward to them. “You couldn’t chance it. Didn’t want to.”
As Jared crowds his space, Jensen grabs his wrists, pulls them away so he can stop hurting himself. “No, that’s not it.”
“Yeah, it was. You were always scared. Still are. Scared to admit to it, to be it.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he lamely argues without looking at Jared, like he can’t see the words coming out any easier than he can hear them. He grabs Jared’s arms, holds him in place while he gets a hold of his own voice. “I’m not. Alright? I’m not.”
Jared calms for the moment, waits for Jensen, not for the first time.
“Fuck, J. What’d you want me to do?”
Right here, when he thought it couldn’t get worse, he feels that it is. Because Jensen has no clue. “Oh, fuck off,” he groans, wishing he meant it.
It sets Jensen off, so at least Jared gets to have that. “What’d you expect me to do, huh? What do you want from me?!”
He stares, willing Jensen to see it in his eyes. All so he doesn’t have to say it.
Jensen scrubs the back of his head, mutters and curses anything but apologies or retractions, and Jared’s absolutely lost, can’t take it anymore, and leaves the room.
*
The first time Jensen entered Jared, they stilled and he took a mental snapshot of the moment. It felt unlike anything Jared had ever experienced. It wasn’t just tearing down the walls between friendship and making it a whole gallery of emotions. He was full and satisfied and covered in muscle and heat and strength. Jared felt complete.
*
He stares at the ceiling, tied down to the horror of losing Jensen. Once and for all. Officially.
Down the steps, a few shuffles to the right and Jared’s in the kitchen, gathering food. He stuffs his mouth with leftover chicken and chunks of potato, but it doesn’t make up for the emptiness. He stops, angry. At himself for falling into this mess. At the food for not satisfying him. At the show for bringing them together. At this house for letting them be together.
He doesn’t hate Jensen. Can’t. Won’t. Impossible.
Yet when he finds a crumpled hand towel on the counter, a bright blue one, one of a set of four Jensen bought last February when the dogs shredded Jared’s yellow ones, he grips it tight. Moments later he’s in Jensen’s doorway and he fires the thing at his head. “You, asshole,” he says, answering Jensen’s question from hours ago.
It takes two seconds for him to turn to the stairs then change his mind and fill the doorway again. Jensen is pushing himself up in bed, holding the towel in one hand while the other rises in defense.
Jared laughs at Jensen’s hands. It’s a short laugh, but it’s the first time in four days and it feels good. “Could’ve waited until March.”
He’s scooting off the bed, hopping to his feet and trying to keep this going. “March? October, December, what would it matter?”
“We’d be done. I could’ve gone home. You to L.A., planning the fucking white party. The show would’ve been done.”
Jensen crumbles at that, his eyes and face falling so beautifully that Jared wants to reach out and touch it because he’s not used to this between them. He’s used to touching and laughing and coming and just being. But now they’re not anything.
“Could’ve waited and told me yourself.”
“I called you!” Jensen fires back, full of energy and anger. “You didn’t call back.”
“On the phone, man? What the hell? Could’ve said it to my face last Wednesday.”
His head tips and his face crushes nearly into confusion, but Jared hears the real emotion layered under his anger and rising voice. “You wanted me to tell you before I ran off?”
Jared’s voice jumps up, meeting Jensen in anger but surpassing him in fear. Because Jared’s not sure where he wants this conversation to go but there’s a small comfort in having Jensen’s attention. “Could’ve tried. Wouldn’t’ve hurt.”
“In what world could I have ever done this right? Done right by you?”
And he knows right here, there is no right way. Jensen never could have done this without ripping Jared out from the inside, whether Jensen knew it would or not.
A hand lands on his neck, squeezing but not too hard. It’s a pressure that he’s felt before, of care and good intentions. “Jared. I’m sorry.”
Their eyes lock onto each other and Jared can see everything in Jensen’s gaze, sharper than he can hear his apology. Jared’s hearing is fuzzy as he stares, and he thinks this will be the last time Jensen looks at him like this.
“We couldn’t keep going. I thought we both knew that.”
Jared pulls on Jensen’s wrist, breaking the touch. Jensen moves with the other to reconnect, which only makes Jared do it again. He holds Jensen’s wrists away and watches how his fingers wrap clear around the joint but don’t fully hold. They won’t.
“Jared,” Jensen starts, sounding just as broken.
But Jared can’t listen to more so he releases the hands and leaves the room. By the time he gets to his room, he’s convinced himself he’s released Jensen as well.
*
It had started when Jared had his first fight with Genevieve. An assault of frustrations he didn’t know was possible. Their fiery tempers shredded each other, and Jared was battered by the time he’d returned home. He’d crumbled before Jensen, emptied himself of all the bitterness he’d been tangled in from the two-hour circus of their fight.
Jensen had listened, offered a shoulder to lean on, and Jared took full advantage of it. Confessed he was sure he wouldn’t last through another disappointment in love, that ending things with Sandy had left him empty for far too long, that he couldn’t try again with Genevieve.
Instead, he found comfort in Jensen’s hand at his shoulder, swiping up to his neck, and he slipped right into it. Kissing Jensen didn’t feel like such a plunge because they were practically one step away from being together. It felt like a logical, easy step and Jared took it, with Jensen following, even when he had Danneel.
Jared’s guilt was crushing on so many occasions, but the minute he could melt into Jensen, melt with him, his mind cleared and the world was open for them, and them only. And Jared tried to make it stay open, breaking up with Genevieve and waiting for Jensen to release himself and be with Jared. Really be with him.
*
The bed dips before Jared even realizes Jensen’s there. A hand rubs over Jared’s neck, the same spot Jensen always went for in his touches and kisses and connection. The warmth and seal of Jensen’s skin on his makes him close his eyes and he’s transported to other touches and moments they’ve shared.
Jensen’s whispered, “I’m sorry,” isn’t lost in the room. Jared hears it and keeps it tucked inside his head, wanting to remember how rough Jensen’s voice is and how miserable he sounds. Because it matches Jared so well right now.
As he stares at the opposite wall and wonders how long it’ll take him to recover, to be free of so much emotion and so many memories. He’s certain tonight’s not the night that will happen, and it won’t be anytime soon. Jared’s hand slips over Jensen’s, solid and warm and accepting of the comfort. And he’s further accepting when Jensen’s hand skates over his throat as he eases closer and looms over Jared.
“Jared,” he murmurs. His palm presses over Jared’s collarbone and Jensen’s words come slow and deliberate. “I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
His eyes flutter closed while his fingers wrap around Jensen’s wrist. This time, they curl tight and acknowledge Jensen's intention.
Jensen shifts closer, lays his head down to Jared’s. “I’m sorry.”
Jared can feel how Jensen’s head nods here and there but Jensen remains quiet, his tell-tale sign that he’s nervous and unsure of himself. He’d done it so many times before when Jared would trip him up and draw out so many emotions that he wasn’t used to sharing. This soothes him, and he rolls to allow Jensen closer, so Jared can draw more comfort from this moment.
He doesn’t expect to find Jensen’s face so close, or to see the damp eyes or the twist of the mouth. To see that he’s as wrecked over this as Jared feels. Jared palms his face, feels his eyes burn, won’t look away. His eyes scour Jensen’s face before leaning up to press their forehead’s together. His words crumble on his lips. “I loved you.” Jensen nods against him and Jared adds, “Still do.”
There’s a moment where Jensen begins to close their distance but he falters and miserably says, “I know.” He tries to work more words, but instead, he presses his mouth to Jared’s, meant to be his comfort but turning into his admission. Jared reads it here, feels it in the pressure of wet lips to his, that Jensen loves him, too. Loves like Jared loves him, wants him the same.
Jared dares himself to hold still, to not push this further, but his resolve can only last so long. His mouth opens and his lips push on Jensen’s. It’s Jensen’s tongue that slips first, coiling with Jared, sharing the same space.
It all crawls so slowly, but Jared’s hardly aware of it. Warm hands under shirts, pushing fabric up before taking it away entirely. The press of chests while they take away pants and boxers.
Their embrace is tight as they turn to their sides, melding their bodies together from arms down to toes, and their mouths work against each other. It’s all so brilliant, and Jared’s blood is rushing through him, all while his mouth and hands and hips are pacing the entire thing, cataloging each touch of Jensen’s lips, his hands, his thighs, because he knows this is what they have left. The morning doesn’t offer anything but he’s taking this night for himself.
Jared’s fingers slide over the curve of Jensen’s ass, knead the flesh and bring Jensen even closer before Jensen does the same. But Jensen goes one step further, sliding a finger into his hole and staying there, just offering Jared one more touch in a place he can reach.
He moans into Jensen’s mouth and then he does the same, his long finger pressed in tight and nudging Jensen’s walls. When he gets another finger in, Jensen stalls the kiss, pulls back and watches. Jared can see the weakness and it blows his mind that Jensen’s just as vulnerable in this, that he is as ripped up as Jared is. “Jensen,” he murmurs, asking for permission, prodding, anything.
“No,” he nearly sighs. “Jared.” Jensen keeps staring and thinks through his intention. His finger pulls out and his hand spreads over Jared’s ass. He sighs again. “Let me.” The palm caresses Jared’s skin. “Let me?”
His nod is slow but deep. He moves to the nightstand, returns with lube and hands it over to Jensen, like he’s handing himself over. In moments, they’re kissing again and Jensen’s finger returns, cold and wet, but moving and leading Jared. Two more fingers get him ready and Jensen rolls him to his stomach. Jensen lines up, hovering with his other palm swirling small circles at Jared’s lower back as he hesitates. Jared reaches back, touches Jensen’s thigh. Jensen’s hands fold over Jared’s hips as he leans at his back. He nudges Jared to his knees and closer to the headboard and his hands make one more trek over the wide expanse of Jared’s skin. Jensen drops a kiss at Jared’s shoulder then his forehead settles there. “Jared. You’re beautiful.”
Jared’s head drops forward and his eyes close tight as he imagines Jensen taking inventory of this moment, just like he had not too long ago. The thought swells in his chest and he takes a deep breath when Jensen’s head is gone while his hands go low again and he’s pressing inside Jared.
They’re still while Jensen covers Jared’s back and his hands grace Jared’s chest. Jared curls a hand around the top of the headboard while the other lays over one of Jensen’s, begging and nudging and assured that Jensen should continue. Just one little slide and Jensen moans, tucking his head just under Jared’s, forehead at the back of his neck. And then Jared’s moving back and starting the rhythm while Jensen catches up.
The press of Jensen’s forehead alternates with his mouth, open and wet across Jared’s back. And it feels so good, the slick slide of Jensen’s dick inside him, filling him, pushing him. The tongue lapping across his skin. The hands holding him tight. Jared wants more, he wants to take Jensen like this, but he feels Jensen’s presence so deep in this moment that he doesn’t want to let it go.
Jared pushes back harder, smacking into Jensen’s hips so the pressure goes deeper. He wants it at his core. He wants to know it in the morning. Jensen grips tighter to Jared’s chest, fingernails biting into skin as he strikes harder and deeper, releasing so much energy and pain and yet love in giving this to Jared.
They go on, moans and muttered curses flying between them, and then they’re going faster. Jared starts shaking, knowing he’s close but not wanting to give in, wanting this to last as long as humanly possible. But also dying for release. For that high and euphoria that Jensen can bring him to
Jensen wraps an arm around Jared’s waist and he mutters against his skin, “Jare, I’m gonna … so close.”
Jared’s hand holds Jensen’s at his hip and he nudges his head back against Jensen. “Me, too.”
“God, you … feels so good.”
“I know,” Jared replies, loving that Jensen is still talking.
“Always does,” he mouths at Jared’s neck.
“I know,” he says again, but emotional and nearly broken.
They keep rutting together, Jensen’s dick pressing in as far as he can while Jared rocks back, now begging for it. So he can have one more memory of them together like this. Where Jensen can’t not touch him. His hands groping Jared’s chest. His thighs sliding up to Jared’s. His lips permanent on the neck, sucking and kissing and licking across all the available space he can reach.
“Oh, God,” Jensen suddenly whispers at Jared’s shoulder before he stutters and then slows his thrusts. He kisses Jared’s skin, tasting the salt and tasting Jared before he groans and comes. The warmth of Jensen and his come inside force Jared to the ledge and then his hole clenches Jensen, drawing more moans, and Jared spills over himself.
They’re still pressed together and Jared leans closer to the headboard, resting his head on his hand, still clutching the top. Jensen follows, covering his back with his forehead pressed into a shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Jared groans. Jensen’s mouth touches his skin as he hmms. “I’m a mess,” he mutters as his hand strokes through the stickiness across his abdomen.
Jensen’s hands swipe through it with him then squeeze at Jared. He chuckles and the sound rumbles through every inch of Jared’s skin that he’s touching.
Jared wraps himself in that feeling, of Jensen wrapped around him, still in him, and for the moment, with him.
*
At the end of filming, at the last get-together they’ll have until God knows when, Jensen shows up alone, and Jared wonders if it’s Jensen’s goodwill. Like Jensen doesn’t want to force their relationship onto Jared, make Jared watch them be together.
Jared brings Genevieve, and he catches Jensen watching them. Jared stares as Genevieve smiles at Jensen, hugs him, kisses his cheek. The corner of his mouth twitches as Jensen closes a palm over Jared’s neck with half a smile.
When they have a moment alone, quiet conversation among the crowded space, Jensen asks Jared about Genevieve and their being back together. Jared awkwardly works his explanation to not sound like it’s just a rebound, but he’s sure Jensen can see it in his eyes and hear what he’s not saying.
“You happy?”
He chuckles uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Jensen glances to Genevieve parked in a lengthy discussion with a few crew members. His eyes stay with her long enough that Jared looks as well, and Jensen’s question is more obvious. “You happy?”
Jared turns to Jensen and when their eyes meet, Jensen’s drop a bit, lose their shine. He knows Jensen knows the answer. No, he isn’t. Can’t be.
And when Jensen’s head tips a bit to the side, Jared reads his response. Jared knows he’s sorry, has seen it in Jensen’s eyes whenever they have a low moment. Jared has talked through it all with himself so many times that he’s lost the words to have this conversation. He just sadly smiles and nods right back.
Rating: NC-17
Characters: J2, mentions of Jensen/Danneel and Jared/Genevieve
Words: 4,200
Warnings: Angst Level Orange
Summary: Jensen didn't have a chance to tell Jared before he asked her, and Jared crumbles under the whole thing.
Notes: A) Danneel is gorgeous. B) They are gonna make the most perfectly gorgeous babies ever. C) No harm meant here, just cruising through Angstville. Title and cut text from James Morrison's "Pieces Don't Fit Anymore"
Beta: Excellence from coyotesuspect &hearts
You. Have. Five. Messages.
Thursday. 4:57 pm
Hey, I gotta talk to you. Gimme a ring back.
Friday. 10:08pm
Ya eat so much beef ya gone deaf? Gotta talk.
Saturday. 11:34am.
J, man, serious. Call me.
Saturday. 7:21pm.
I’mma fly down there. Giving you until tomorrow. 8am, dude.
Sunday 8:22am
Don’t make me do this on your voicemail. C’mon, man.
End. Of. Messages
*
Jared steps into the house, feeling the heavy fog cloud every bit of space. He knows why it’s there. He’d heard the messages. Didn’t listen, no. Didn’t have to. He heard everything else.
*
The house is quiet. Jared likes it that way. His mind buzzes, but nothing else keeps him down. He can just be. Until Jensen is there with a tentative, “Ya home?”
“Back here.” But he doesn’t move from his perch on the deck. Just remains on the steps and watches the dogs run themselves ragged.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies still not moving.
The sliding door skids open, then leaves them in silence. Jensen nudges a toe at Jared’s side. “Your phone broke?”
Jared glances up briefly, squinting against faint sunlight and thinking of their past. Days when he didn’t know what was happening, was lost happily in the haze. He answers, “No,” before looking back at the lawn.
Jensen leans against the porch railing and crosses his ankles, his arms, and just watches. First Jared then the dogs. Then Jared again. “She said yes.”
Jared fights staring at his folded hands, fights moving, even breathing. His eyes lower a bit to the grass but remain looking outward, in front of him, like they always should have. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Jared swallows then stands and whistles for the dogs to come back in. He smirks at them, hustling across the green, up the steps, and into the house. His eyes meet Jensen’s and he gives a short smile. “Cool. Congratulations.”
*
Jared is quiet because he can be. It’s the one choice he has right now, and he’s sticking to it.
“You know, I wanted to tell you. Before I did it.”
Jared glances up, void of any real response. “Really?”
“Yeah. That’s why I kept calling.”
He goes back to the grill, flipping one chicken breast then another, just to fill time. “I had family stuff. Told you I’d be busy.”
“Could’ve called me late. You know I’d pick up.”
“Really?” He knows it cuts Jensen, but he doesn’t look up, doesn’t have to see it. The brief silence is enough to feel it.
“Man, c’mon,” Jensen pleads as he moves closer, leans against the railing. “You knew I had the ring.”
His voice is quiet but it still slips out, “Didn’t think you’d give it to her.” Never thought you would.
“Well it wasn’t gonna fit on your finger,” he kids.
Jared looks up, first time he really looks at Jensen since he came back. Since he came back engaged and taken and real. This thing had never been real, and now he’s wrecked. He’s back to focusing on the grill, shuffles the meat off onto a serving platter then nudges it across the sidetray, closer to Jensen. “A little dry, but you know,” he says a little too easily. Like you like it.
“You not gonna eat?”
He nearly squints but instead shrugs a little. “Nah, I’m good. Bet you’re starved. Been a long weekend.”
*
Fact of the matter: Jared loves Danneel. She’s caring and funny and gorgeous and bounces off Jensen so easily. Just like Jared does, like he always has. But she also understands Jensen and trusts him and has his heart. Like Jared never did.
*
Jared’s stomach is empty but his mind is, too. He can’t manage to even think. There’s nothing in his mind beyond a ring and Jensen down on one knee and Danneel’s tears of happiness. It’s the last thing that stings the most.
He stares into the fridge, resting an arm up high on the door, serving more to prop himself up than the door open. Nothing looks good, and he’s not even sure what he’s doing, or how long he’s doing it, or how much longer he will.
His eyes hurt and his stomach is soft, and he’s amazed that it’s like they all say … dull ache in his chest. He wonders how oxygen even makes it into his body. Every muscle is taut and it only gets worse when he hears Jensen enter the kitchen, hears him breathing like he can’t manage the words either.
A stool scrapes along the tile. Jared won’t turn around but he sees it all in his mind: Jensen settling at the island because it’s happened so many times before, folding his hands, pressing them down into the marble, flexing his fingers. It’s what he does when he’s fighting for the right words, like his hands have to work the thoughts out, punch every thought into the air before he can say it. Jared wonders if Danneel knows that, but he won’t ask.
Beer looks like a good idea. About twenty would be great, but he’ll take one. He gulps down a quarter of the bottle before he turns to Jensen. The smile’s tight before he says, “So. When’s the big day?”
Jensen’s head tips, his eyes asking Really?
Jared sips more but his eyes keep on Jensen, practically daring him to say something.
But he doesn’t, and neither does Jared.
*
The messages, all five of them, were not from the Jensen he knows. They were from someone who’s worried and unsure and incapable of saying what has to really be said. That point almost makes this easier to take. Almost.
*
Jensen prods. He needles and he nudges and then he pushes Jared to talk. It starts with simple questions about the anniversary party in San Antone, the dogs traveling, his sister in school. Goes up to what Jared’s been doing since he got back, if he saw the Cowboys game. And crescendos into, “Jesus, J. Come on. Just say something.”
Jared's onto his third beer, which is nothing compared to the size of his body. But it’s everything considering how little he’s eaten in the last two days.
“What do you want me to say? Huh? You need me to apologize?”
Jared’s eyes flash over. They see the depth in Jensen’s glare. He finds his voice, though it’s broken and small. “You want to?”
Jensen’s hands rise and then flip out, fingers clenching out and in. “I’m sorry, okay? But you knew I was going to. I’ve had the ring for a year.”
His mouth tips up, as does his tone because he’s nearly amused here. Not sure why. He doesn’t want to make Jensen into the bad guy. Wouldn’t dream of making it Danneel. But what else can he do? “You sat on it for a year.”
It’s obvious that Jensen gives up right then. His shoulders, his eyes, his mouth, his voice … everything drops in an instance. “Yeah, I did. Why’s that make me the asshole? For waiting ‘til it was good and right.”
Jared nods, looks away.
“J, we wouldn’t’ve - ”
That gets his attention and Jared stares, stopping Jensen from more. “Wouldn’t’ve what?”
“Jared,” he sighs.
“No. Say it.” Jensen shakes his head, but Jared won’t leave it now. Can’t. “Wouldn’t’ve what?”
Another sigh. “Jared.”
“Wouldn’t’ve made it,” Jared nods and it’s like the restraints are off and he can move closer to Jensen. He stabs fingers into his own chest hard enough he knows there’ll be marks tomorrow. He’s looking forward to them. “You couldn’t chance it. Didn’t want to.”
As Jared crowds his space, Jensen grabs his wrists, pulls them away so he can stop hurting himself. “No, that’s not it.”
“Yeah, it was. You were always scared. Still are. Scared to admit to it, to be it.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he lamely argues without looking at Jared, like he can’t see the words coming out any easier than he can hear them. He grabs Jared’s arms, holds him in place while he gets a hold of his own voice. “I’m not. Alright? I’m not.”
Jared calms for the moment, waits for Jensen, not for the first time.
“Fuck, J. What’d you want me to do?”
Right here, when he thought it couldn’t get worse, he feels that it is. Because Jensen has no clue. “Oh, fuck off,” he groans, wishing he meant it.
It sets Jensen off, so at least Jared gets to have that. “What’d you expect me to do, huh? What do you want from me?!”
He stares, willing Jensen to see it in his eyes. All so he doesn’t have to say it.
Jensen scrubs the back of his head, mutters and curses anything but apologies or retractions, and Jared’s absolutely lost, can’t take it anymore, and leaves the room.
*
The first time Jensen entered Jared, they stilled and he took a mental snapshot of the moment. It felt unlike anything Jared had ever experienced. It wasn’t just tearing down the walls between friendship and making it a whole gallery of emotions. He was full and satisfied and covered in muscle and heat and strength. Jared felt complete.
*
He stares at the ceiling, tied down to the horror of losing Jensen. Once and for all. Officially.
Down the steps, a few shuffles to the right and Jared’s in the kitchen, gathering food. He stuffs his mouth with leftover chicken and chunks of potato, but it doesn’t make up for the emptiness. He stops, angry. At himself for falling into this mess. At the food for not satisfying him. At the show for bringing them together. At this house for letting them be together.
He doesn’t hate Jensen. Can’t. Won’t. Impossible.
Yet when he finds a crumpled hand towel on the counter, a bright blue one, one of a set of four Jensen bought last February when the dogs shredded Jared’s yellow ones, he grips it tight. Moments later he’s in Jensen’s doorway and he fires the thing at his head. “You, asshole,” he says, answering Jensen’s question from hours ago.
It takes two seconds for him to turn to the stairs then change his mind and fill the doorway again. Jensen is pushing himself up in bed, holding the towel in one hand while the other rises in defense.
Jared laughs at Jensen’s hands. It’s a short laugh, but it’s the first time in four days and it feels good. “Could’ve waited until March.”
He’s scooting off the bed, hopping to his feet and trying to keep this going. “March? October, December, what would it matter?”
“We’d be done. I could’ve gone home. You to L.A., planning the fucking white party. The show would’ve been done.”
Jensen crumbles at that, his eyes and face falling so beautifully that Jared wants to reach out and touch it because he’s not used to this between them. He’s used to touching and laughing and coming and just being. But now they’re not anything.
“Could’ve waited and told me yourself.”
“I called you!” Jensen fires back, full of energy and anger. “You didn’t call back.”
“On the phone, man? What the hell? Could’ve said it to my face last Wednesday.”
His head tips and his face crushes nearly into confusion, but Jared hears the real emotion layered under his anger and rising voice. “You wanted me to tell you before I ran off?”
Jared’s voice jumps up, meeting Jensen in anger but surpassing him in fear. Because Jared’s not sure where he wants this conversation to go but there’s a small comfort in having Jensen’s attention. “Could’ve tried. Wouldn’t’ve hurt.”
“In what world could I have ever done this right? Done right by you?”
And he knows right here, there is no right way. Jensen never could have done this without ripping Jared out from the inside, whether Jensen knew it would or not.
A hand lands on his neck, squeezing but not too hard. It’s a pressure that he’s felt before, of care and good intentions. “Jared. I’m sorry.”
Their eyes lock onto each other and Jared can see everything in Jensen’s gaze, sharper than he can hear his apology. Jared’s hearing is fuzzy as he stares, and he thinks this will be the last time Jensen looks at him like this.
“We couldn’t keep going. I thought we both knew that.”
Jared pulls on Jensen’s wrist, breaking the touch. Jensen moves with the other to reconnect, which only makes Jared do it again. He holds Jensen’s wrists away and watches how his fingers wrap clear around the joint but don’t fully hold. They won’t.
“Jared,” Jensen starts, sounding just as broken.
But Jared can’t listen to more so he releases the hands and leaves the room. By the time he gets to his room, he’s convinced himself he’s released Jensen as well.
*
It had started when Jared had his first fight with Genevieve. An assault of frustrations he didn’t know was possible. Their fiery tempers shredded each other, and Jared was battered by the time he’d returned home. He’d crumbled before Jensen, emptied himself of all the bitterness he’d been tangled in from the two-hour circus of their fight.
Jensen had listened, offered a shoulder to lean on, and Jared took full advantage of it. Confessed he was sure he wouldn’t last through another disappointment in love, that ending things with Sandy had left him empty for far too long, that he couldn’t try again with Genevieve.
Instead, he found comfort in Jensen’s hand at his shoulder, swiping up to his neck, and he slipped right into it. Kissing Jensen didn’t feel like such a plunge because they were practically one step away from being together. It felt like a logical, easy step and Jared took it, with Jensen following, even when he had Danneel.
Jared’s guilt was crushing on so many occasions, but the minute he could melt into Jensen, melt with him, his mind cleared and the world was open for them, and them only. And Jared tried to make it stay open, breaking up with Genevieve and waiting for Jensen to release himself and be with Jared. Really be with him.
*
The bed dips before Jared even realizes Jensen’s there. A hand rubs over Jared’s neck, the same spot Jensen always went for in his touches and kisses and connection. The warmth and seal of Jensen’s skin on his makes him close his eyes and he’s transported to other touches and moments they’ve shared.
Jensen’s whispered, “I’m sorry,” isn’t lost in the room. Jared hears it and keeps it tucked inside his head, wanting to remember how rough Jensen’s voice is and how miserable he sounds. Because it matches Jared so well right now.
As he stares at the opposite wall and wonders how long it’ll take him to recover, to be free of so much emotion and so many memories. He’s certain tonight’s not the night that will happen, and it won’t be anytime soon. Jared’s hand slips over Jensen’s, solid and warm and accepting of the comfort. And he’s further accepting when Jensen’s hand skates over his throat as he eases closer and looms over Jared.
“Jared,” he murmurs. His palm presses over Jared’s collarbone and Jensen’s words come slow and deliberate. “I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
His eyes flutter closed while his fingers wrap around Jensen’s wrist. This time, they curl tight and acknowledge Jensen's intention.
Jensen shifts closer, lays his head down to Jared’s. “I’m sorry.”
Jared can feel how Jensen’s head nods here and there but Jensen remains quiet, his tell-tale sign that he’s nervous and unsure of himself. He’d done it so many times before when Jared would trip him up and draw out so many emotions that he wasn’t used to sharing. This soothes him, and he rolls to allow Jensen closer, so Jared can draw more comfort from this moment.
He doesn’t expect to find Jensen’s face so close, or to see the damp eyes or the twist of the mouth. To see that he’s as wrecked over this as Jared feels. Jared palms his face, feels his eyes burn, won’t look away. His eyes scour Jensen’s face before leaning up to press their forehead’s together. His words crumble on his lips. “I loved you.” Jensen nods against him and Jared adds, “Still do.”
There’s a moment where Jensen begins to close their distance but he falters and miserably says, “I know.” He tries to work more words, but instead, he presses his mouth to Jared’s, meant to be his comfort but turning into his admission. Jared reads it here, feels it in the pressure of wet lips to his, that Jensen loves him, too. Loves like Jared loves him, wants him the same.
Jared dares himself to hold still, to not push this further, but his resolve can only last so long. His mouth opens and his lips push on Jensen’s. It’s Jensen’s tongue that slips first, coiling with Jared, sharing the same space.
It all crawls so slowly, but Jared’s hardly aware of it. Warm hands under shirts, pushing fabric up before taking it away entirely. The press of chests while they take away pants and boxers.
Their embrace is tight as they turn to their sides, melding their bodies together from arms down to toes, and their mouths work against each other. It’s all so brilliant, and Jared’s blood is rushing through him, all while his mouth and hands and hips are pacing the entire thing, cataloging each touch of Jensen’s lips, his hands, his thighs, because he knows this is what they have left. The morning doesn’t offer anything but he’s taking this night for himself.
Jared’s fingers slide over the curve of Jensen’s ass, knead the flesh and bring Jensen even closer before Jensen does the same. But Jensen goes one step further, sliding a finger into his hole and staying there, just offering Jared one more touch in a place he can reach.
He moans into Jensen’s mouth and then he does the same, his long finger pressed in tight and nudging Jensen’s walls. When he gets another finger in, Jensen stalls the kiss, pulls back and watches. Jared can see the weakness and it blows his mind that Jensen’s just as vulnerable in this, that he is as ripped up as Jared is. “Jensen,” he murmurs, asking for permission, prodding, anything.
“No,” he nearly sighs. “Jared.” Jensen keeps staring and thinks through his intention. His finger pulls out and his hand spreads over Jared’s ass. He sighs again. “Let me.” The palm caresses Jared’s skin. “Let me?”
His nod is slow but deep. He moves to the nightstand, returns with lube and hands it over to Jensen, like he’s handing himself over. In moments, they’re kissing again and Jensen’s finger returns, cold and wet, but moving and leading Jared. Two more fingers get him ready and Jensen rolls him to his stomach. Jensen lines up, hovering with his other palm swirling small circles at Jared’s lower back as he hesitates. Jared reaches back, touches Jensen’s thigh. Jensen’s hands fold over Jared’s hips as he leans at his back. He nudges Jared to his knees and closer to the headboard and his hands make one more trek over the wide expanse of Jared’s skin. Jensen drops a kiss at Jared’s shoulder then his forehead settles there. “Jared. You’re beautiful.”
Jared’s head drops forward and his eyes close tight as he imagines Jensen taking inventory of this moment, just like he had not too long ago. The thought swells in his chest and he takes a deep breath when Jensen’s head is gone while his hands go low again and he’s pressing inside Jared.
They’re still while Jensen covers Jared’s back and his hands grace Jared’s chest. Jared curls a hand around the top of the headboard while the other lays over one of Jensen’s, begging and nudging and assured that Jensen should continue. Just one little slide and Jensen moans, tucking his head just under Jared’s, forehead at the back of his neck. And then Jared’s moving back and starting the rhythm while Jensen catches up.
The press of Jensen’s forehead alternates with his mouth, open and wet across Jared’s back. And it feels so good, the slick slide of Jensen’s dick inside him, filling him, pushing him. The tongue lapping across his skin. The hands holding him tight. Jared wants more, he wants to take Jensen like this, but he feels Jensen’s presence so deep in this moment that he doesn’t want to let it go.
Jared pushes back harder, smacking into Jensen’s hips so the pressure goes deeper. He wants it at his core. He wants to know it in the morning. Jensen grips tighter to Jared’s chest, fingernails biting into skin as he strikes harder and deeper, releasing so much energy and pain and yet love in giving this to Jared.
They go on, moans and muttered curses flying between them, and then they’re going faster. Jared starts shaking, knowing he’s close but not wanting to give in, wanting this to last as long as humanly possible. But also dying for release. For that high and euphoria that Jensen can bring him to
Jensen wraps an arm around Jared’s waist and he mutters against his skin, “Jare, I’m gonna … so close.”
Jared’s hand holds Jensen’s at his hip and he nudges his head back against Jensen. “Me, too.”
“God, you … feels so good.”
“I know,” Jared replies, loving that Jensen is still talking.
“Always does,” he mouths at Jared’s neck.
“I know,” he says again, but emotional and nearly broken.
They keep rutting together, Jensen’s dick pressing in as far as he can while Jared rocks back, now begging for it. So he can have one more memory of them together like this. Where Jensen can’t not touch him. His hands groping Jared’s chest. His thighs sliding up to Jared’s. His lips permanent on the neck, sucking and kissing and licking across all the available space he can reach.
“Oh, God,” Jensen suddenly whispers at Jared’s shoulder before he stutters and then slows his thrusts. He kisses Jared’s skin, tasting the salt and tasting Jared before he groans and comes. The warmth of Jensen and his come inside force Jared to the ledge and then his hole clenches Jensen, drawing more moans, and Jared spills over himself.
They’re still pressed together and Jared leans closer to the headboard, resting his head on his hand, still clutching the top. Jensen follows, covering his back with his forehead pressed into a shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Jared groans. Jensen’s mouth touches his skin as he hmms. “I’m a mess,” he mutters as his hand strokes through the stickiness across his abdomen.
Jensen’s hands swipe through it with him then squeeze at Jared. He chuckles and the sound rumbles through every inch of Jared’s skin that he’s touching.
Jared wraps himself in that feeling, of Jensen wrapped around him, still in him, and for the moment, with him.
*
At the end of filming, at the last get-together they’ll have until God knows when, Jensen shows up alone, and Jared wonders if it’s Jensen’s goodwill. Like Jensen doesn’t want to force their relationship onto Jared, make Jared watch them be together.
Jared brings Genevieve, and he catches Jensen watching them. Jared stares as Genevieve smiles at Jensen, hugs him, kisses his cheek. The corner of his mouth twitches as Jensen closes a palm over Jared’s neck with half a smile.
When they have a moment alone, quiet conversation among the crowded space, Jensen asks Jared about Genevieve and their being back together. Jared awkwardly works his explanation to not sound like it’s just a rebound, but he’s sure Jensen can see it in his eyes and hear what he’s not saying.
“You happy?”
He chuckles uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Jensen glances to Genevieve parked in a lengthy discussion with a few crew members. His eyes stay with her long enough that Jared looks as well, and Jensen’s question is more obvious. “You happy?”
Jared turns to Jensen and when their eyes meet, Jensen’s drop a bit, lose their shine. He knows Jensen knows the answer. No, he isn’t. Can’t be.
And when Jensen’s head tips a bit to the side, Jared reads his response. Jared knows he’s sorry, has seen it in Jensen’s eyes whenever they have a low moment. Jared has talked through it all with himself so many times that he’s lost the words to have this conversation. He just sadly smiles and nods right back.