Fic: I'll Keep It Right Here (With All My Other Years) A "Puzzle" timestamp. J2. NC-17 2/2

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.



When Jensen comes out of the bathroom from his shower, Sunday morning, Jared stirs just enough to say, “Don’t get dressed.”

Jensen blinks. “I can’t eat breakfast naked.”

“Just put on your PJs,” Jared mumbles.

“Why?” Jensen asks, while opening the drawer for the soft flannel PJ bottoms Jared got him for his birthday. But Jared is already asleep again.

Jensen pulls on the flannel pants and an old t-shirt his mother keeps trying to throw out whenever she visits. It’s the softest one he owns. He doesn’t care that it’s faded and stretched, it feels light like a breeze on his skin. After the night he had, he’s got plenty of ants under his skin without adding the irritation of harsh seams and fabric.

Jensen pads down the stairs with Sadie and Harley on his heels. He lets them out into the back yard before filling their bowls with kibble and water. Jared can take care of whatever they leave out there. Jensen does not come anywhere near that. It smells.

The coffee maker is on a timer, so the coffee is perfectly fresh and scalding hot when he pours it into his favorite mug. He drinks his first cup still standing, before fetching his All-Bran. When he’s done eating, he fills his coffee mug again and lays out the paper for the Sunday crosswords. He wrinkles his nose as he starts filling it in. Either these are getting easier or he’s getting smarter. Jared says he’s just more aware of various pop culture and ‘other stuff’ after living with him for so long. He might be right. Or maybe Jensen is getting smarter.

He contemplates that while he sips his coffee and fills out the small boxes with clear, precise letters. Comes to the conclusion that it’s both, as knowing more things automatically makes him smarter. He likes being smart. Other people don’t always like it as much, which is why he usually keeps what he knows to himself. Except with Jared. Jared doesn’t mind him being smart. He’s pretty smart, too.

Sadie scratches at the door as he’s filling in the last word, so Jensen finishes his coffee and stands up to let the dogs in. They are always careful around him, not as boisterous as they are around Jared, but breakfast tends to make them overexcited, so he steps back to give them more room as they come barging in, heading straight for their bowls of kibble.

The breeze that comes through the open door is a little cooler than it has been the last couple of weeks. Good. He was getting tired of the heat. Jared says they are Texas boys and should be able to withstand any kind of hot weather. Jared also perspires copious amounts of sweat until he’s dripping like a leaky faucet. Jensen doesn’t like sweating. It makes his clothes feel weird on his skin.

He thinks about having a third cup of coffee on the porch outside, enjoying the early morning quiet. He doesn’t understand why people like to sleep in on weekends. Sunday mornings are the best. Quiet and peaceful and nothing to do but breathe.

Even better would be to wake up Jared and drag him down to come sit out on the porch with him. Jensen checks his watch. It’s almost nine. Jared can’t need to sleep much longer, can he? They went to bed around midnight. Jensen fell asleep almost right away for once, as he was exhausted, but Jared had still been reading. Sometimes Jared reads for hours, especially if they don’t have to be up early the next day. Still, nine o’clock? That has to be enough.

He leaves the dogs to their breakfast and heads upstairs. He can’t hear any snores which is a good sign. Jared snoring means a Jared in deep sleep and Jared in deep sleep does not like being woken up. He gets grumpy and whines like a baby.

Jensen pushes the door open.

Jared is not asleep. Jared is very much awake. Especially a certain part of him which he is stroking lazily. “Took you long enough,” he says. His smile is wicked. He is spread out on the bed, completely naked, like an offering.

Well, there goes Jensen’s plan for the morning. Although, this one might even be better.

“I was going to ask you to come sit on the porch with me,” he still says, to give Jared the choice.

Jared’s smile doesn’t falter but his hand does slow to a halt. “We can do that if you’d rather,” he says and shrugs.

“No. I like you naked.” Jensen pulls off his t-shirt. “You can’t sit on the porch naked.”

“I mean, I could,” Jared says, grinning.

“The swing would give you splinters,” Jensen says as he steps out of his pj bottoms, because he knows what Jared’s hinting at and he’s not going to give him the satisfaction of getting flustered. “You could get splinters in your scrotum.”

Jared grimaces. “You make a very good point.” He stretches and folds his hands under his head, penis - no, dick, Jared hates the word penis - swaying happily. “Also, you know you can just say balls.”

“The ‘balls’ are inside the scrotum,” Jensen reminds him, as he crawls onto the bed between Jared’s spread legs. “I don’t think there are big enough splinters on our swing to pierce through your scrotum and into your testicles.”

“Okay, this conversation is officially killing my hardon,” Jared says, contrary to all evidence. He does look a bit pale though.

“I’ll shut up,” says Jensen and slips Jared’s dick into his mouth to make sure he stops talking.

Jensen loves how well-endowed Jared is. Length in proportion with the rest of him, girth wider than the average penis (No, dick. Dick, dick, dick. Or cock.) - according to Jensen’s experience anyway. He has not measured, except with his mouth and fingers and yes, his anus (“Please, Jensen, just say ass!”) but he’s not sensitive enough in that area to provide even close to a precise measurement), but if he had, and he made a chart, he is pretty sure Jared would come out on top. He still tries his best to fit Jared into his mouth and down his throat. Jared always makes amazing noises when he does. Like Jensen is doing something not only extraordinary, but on a prize-awarding scale. Jensen doesn’t tell him blowjobs are nowhere near an Olympic sport, in fact any idiot with an anatomically correct mouth can perform as well and maybe even better. He likes that Jared thinks he’s amazing. Even if it’s for something as simple as oral sex.

“Jensen, Jensen, wait! Wait!”

Jared’s dick slips half out of Jensen’s mouth as he looks up. Jared is looking flushed, the spots that appear in his cheeks when he’s aroused or embarrassed are bright pink, his lower lip is swollen from where he’s been biting it. His eyes are very dark.

“Keep that up, this will be over way too soon.” Jared laughs, slightly breathless. “C’mon, get up here. I haven’t even kissed you.”

Jensen lets go off Jared’s dick, wiping the string of saliva and pre-ejaculate that follows on the back of his hand. “Have you brushed your teeth?”

Jared snorts. “You do realize your mouth now tastes like cock?”

“And coffee,” Jensen says, not sure why that matters since he knows Jared doesn’t care. Jared likes to put his tongue inside Jensen’s ass. Which feels amazing but Jensen is never going near that part of Jared’s body with his mouth, ever. And he always makes Jared brush his teeth before kissing him when he’s done.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” he repeats since Jared is too busy grinning to answer.

“Yes.” Jared is smiling, making a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers. “Minty fresh for your pleasure. And I shaved.”

“Thank you.” He crawls up the bed, landing with an oomph on Jared’s chest when Jared pulls him down for a kiss. He does indeed taste minty. And a little like dick, probably because he licked his hand when stroking himself earlier. That’s okay, it’s the same taste Jensen’s got in his own mouth already.

They kiss until Jensen feels like he’s suffocating and wrenches his lips away to gulp in air. Jared doesn’t mind, he just starts kissing Jensen’s ear instead and then down his neck before flipping them both over until Jensen lands flat on his back, staring up at Jared in wonder.

“You are so strong,” he says, panting slightly.

“Yeah? You like it?” Jared says. His cheeks are pink from the praise. Or possibly just still from the oral sex.

“Yes. We should have sex standing up to see if you can carry me. Not now,” he elaborates when Jared looks intrigued. “Now we’re having sex here.”

“I’ll work on my thigh muscles,” Jared promises.

“Good. Down, down. Want your weight on me.”

Jared laughs and lies down on top of Jensen, letting him take his whole weight, which has also increased with all the extra muscles. So many benefits. Jensen breathes out as the weight settles over him. Grounding him. He closes his eyes as Jared keeps kissing him, his mouth, his throat, down his collarbone, weight shifting the further down Jared gets. Jensen can feel the muscles and sinews move under Jared’s skin. His beautiful, tanned skin which is so soft over all that hardness.

When they went to the beach everyone kept staring at Jared because he looked so magnificent. Seeing Jared rise out of the ocean is as close to a religious experience as Jensen has ever had. He was like an ocean god. Or like...

“Aquaman,” he whispers and hears Jared laugh.

“You thinking about superheroes while I’m jerking you off?” he asks. He doesn’t sound mad, more amused. His voice is a little husky.

Jensen feels it now, Jared’s strong fingers stroking him. Guess he lost track. “No, you. On the beach. Like a god rising out of the waves. I know Aquaman is not a god,” he adds quickly before Jared points that out. “You can be both. You were. We should go again.”

Jared raises himself up on his elbow, looking down at him. Eyes gleaming with amusement. Cheeks still, or again, pink. “I thought you hated the beach. All that sand going where it shouldn’t.”

Jensen stretches his neck and kisses Jared’s throat, right under his chin. Feels the small patch of stubble Jared always misses prickle his lips. “Yes. Love you. Not the sand.”

Jared smiles. “Beach suited you, too. So sexy. All those freckles, all over your body. Wanted to lick you right there, in front of everyone.” He leans down and licks Jensen’s shoulders, where he is particularly freckled. “You smelled so good. Like coconut and sunshine.”

“That was the sunscreen,” Jensen reminds him, a little breathless now because Jared is still stroking him and it feels very good. “I burn very easily.” His nose always gets red, no matter how much he tries to prevent it.

“Maybe the coconut,” Jared allows. “The sunshine was all you.”

He runs his thumb along Jensen’s temple, then slides his fingers into Jensen’s hair. His very short hair now. Not that it had proper time to grow during hiatus but with Dean’s hair always so short the difference was more noticeable.

Jared kisses him as Jensen starts thinking about Dean’s hair, how long it would have grown during those four months. Or for however long he was in Hell. Time moves differently there, he knows. Longer. Eric won’t tell them how long Dean was in Hell. Longer than four months is all Jensen knows. He wonders how long his hair would be after many more months without a haircut, even years. How it would look. He hasn’t had long hair since… It was a bit longer on Dark Angel but… yes, Dawson’s Creek. Close to what he had on Days. Curtains, that’s what they called it. Stupid. It was the fashion, he had to follow the fashion. He doesn’t like to look at pictures of himself from that time. He looks lost. He felt lost. He used to feel lost a lot of the time before he met Jared. The memory of it still lingers in his heart. So lost. Like Dean is lost without Sam. Was lost, in Hell. Alone. Without Sam.

“I’m not lost when I’m with you,” he reminds himself.

Jared looks up from nuzzling Jensen’s groin. “Good to know,” he says, smiling. “You with me now or…?”

“Yes,” Jensen says, confused. They are in the same bed. What...? Oh. “Yes. Sorry.”

He reaches down and runs his fingers through Jared’s hair. So soft. Sam’s hair was allowed to grow. Not four months’ worth though. Jeannie cut it a little. Like Sam would have had time to go to a saloon in his grief. Maybe new Ruby cut it. Maybe Sam cut it himself, with old Ruby’s knife. Because Dean was not there to cut it for him. Because Dean…

He breathes in. “Sorry. Mind wandered.”

Jared grins. “I noticed. It’s okay. As long as you’re still enjoying what we’re doing.”

“I am. I was,” Jensen admonishes. “You stopped.”

Jared chuckles and gives him a lick that makes him shiver. “You’re the one who keeps talking.”

He knows Jared probably doesn’t mean it like that, but it still stings. “I can turn around. If I’m sucking you too, I can’t talk,” Jensen says tersely and starts to sit up, but Jared lays a hand on his stomach, stopping him. The smile is gone.

“Baby, we talked about this,” he says quietly. “If you want to talk, talk. I don’t want you using my dick as some sort of gag.”

“I know,” Jensen says, feeling increasingly agitated. He’d forgotten they had that conversation after Jared realized he kept getting oral sex every time Jensen worried he might be talking too much. Jensen performed a lot of oral sex last season, after Jared asked him to stop talking about Hell. He should have known Jared would catch on. Jared is very smart. It’s just… He doesn’t want to be annoying. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jared still hasn’t moved. His breath is hot on Jensen dick. “Hey, it’s okay. Stop worrying. Jensen, it’s okay,” he says softly when Jensen keeps shaking his head. “Talk all you want, I really don’t mind.” Jared kisses the inside of Jensen’s thigh. “This still okay?” He nuzzles Jensen’s dick but it’s no use, it’s already flagging. “Or you wanna do something else?” Jared lays his head on Jensen’s thigh, looking up at him. “Or nothing. We can stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” He’s gone completely soft now. Fuck! “It was good. I liked it. I was just thinking. You know I think, all the time.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Fuck, fuck, fuck! “I can’t stop it. Stupid, stupid brain.”

“Hey, hey.” Jared moves up quickly, kneeling beside him, inches away, like he’s afraid to touch him, which is the opposite of what Jensen wants! “Jensen, it’s okay. I wasn’t criticizing you. I like your brain.” He takes Jensen’s hands, kissing the knuckles before gently prying his fists loose. “Tell me what’s really going on.”

“Nothing!” Jensen insists. He wants to scream. “Why did you stop? I didn’t want you to stop!”

“I’ll get right back to it, soon as I’m sure you’re okay,” Jared says gently. “I promise.”

“I’m okay! I’m okay! I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine!” He hitches his breath. He was fine, just a minute ago. Now he’s not and he doesn’t get why. “I don’t understand why you stopped!”

“Something is upsetting you, I’m trying to figure out what, so I can make you feel better,” Jared says. His tone is calm but his eyes are worried. “What were you thinking about? You said you weren’t lost with me. Which is a beautiful declaration of love, by the way.” Jared kisses his hands again, softly. “But why were you thinking about being lost?”

Jensen blinks rapidly. His eyes feel really hot. “I was thinking about Dean’s hair. It should be long.”

Jared nods slowly although he looks confused. “Okay. Why should it be long?”

“Because he was dead and then he was alive, but it had been four months! Or longer! We don’t know how long it was! We don’t know how long he was in Hell! What if he was there for years and years and his hair kept growing? What if he was there for years, Jared? He could have been down there for years!”

“Okay, okay. Hold on. Jensen, hey.” Jared reaches down to cup his cheek, but Jensen wrenches his head away. He can’t. “Okay. Alright.” Jared grabs Jensen’s hands again, squeezing them. “Jensen, baby, sshh. Breathe.”

He’s shaking, the tension making his muscles cramp from the strain. Jared is holding his hands tight in his own. He’s looking at Jensen like he’s crying. Is he crying? He blinks and the worlds turns blurry. He feels a tear trickle down into his ear. Fuck!

“Jensen, baby, try and relax. Remember, we weren’t going to think about that. It’s too upsetting.”

“But-”

“No. Jensen, stop. Please. Remember, we talked about this. None of that is real.”

“I know!” Jensen yells. “I’m not stupid!”

“No, you’re not,” Jared says calmly. “But you are very attached to Dean. I get it, I am too. It hurts to think of Dean in Hell. It feels horrible. Why do you think I asked you to stop talking about Hell?”

“Because you still believe in God, contrary to all evidence, and you don’t want to think of Hell because you’re scared you might go there because God thinks we’re sinners. God hates homosexuals.”

Jared sits back. He looks stunned. “Uhm… Okay, a lot to unpack there.”

He sits still, brow furrowed, blinking slowly. When he looks down at Jensen again his eyes are serious and a little sad. “You may be right. Partly, at least. I don’t like thinking about Hell. I don’t know what’s true and what’s not, and I don’t like thinking about what will happen when we die. I don’t know if there is a Hell, or if God really hates us. I want to believe he doesn’t. I want to believe we get to spend eternity in some kind of Heaven, together. But there’s no way of knowing and that scares me.”

He looks scared, and Jensen hates it. “You should stop believing in God,” he offers, as it seems the obvious solution to Jared’s problem. “If there is no God there is no Heaven and no Hell and when we die, we just cease to exist.”

Jared takes a deep breath. “Okay, that is actually just as terrifying because I want to exist, with you. Not just vanish all alone into some black void.”

“But you wouldn’t know, because you’d be dead,” Jensen stresses.

“Okay, okay, can we put the theological debate on hold for now?” Jared says. He doesn’t sound angry but he doesn’t look happy either. “If you’re not worried about Hell being real, why does it upset you so much that Dean was there?”

“Because in his world it is real and so whatever happened there is also real, to him. It happened to him. And…”

Jensen swallows. He hates admitting this. He is a rational person. He knows the difference between reality and fantasy. This world is real. The Supernatural world isn’t. But…

“He feels real. To me. He is real in my heart. He is in my heart.”

It’s the only way he can explain it, all those feelings that have gradually been building, ever since he started playing Dean, and are now taking up so much space in his chest. Sometimes he feels like Dean is filling up every free space in his body. Between the cells in his bloodstream and soaked in the marrow of his bones. He’s just so… big. He’s just so very big.

Jared’s whole face goes soft, his eyes going half-lid, his lips turning slightly up at the corners in a fond smile. “I know. I get it.”

Jensen shakes his head. Jared doesn’t, or he wouldn’t be smiling like that. There is nothing sweet about this. “No. He is in my heart, and he is screaming! He is screaming in my heart! And I don’t know why because they won’t tell me what happened to him! He is mine, but I don’t know anything!” Shit, now he’s really crying. “I don’t know why he’s screaming because they won’t tell me!”

“Baby.” Jared hesitantly puts a hand on Jensen’s chest, over his heart, but it’s not enough. Jensen grapples for Jared’s neck and tugs, pulling him down until he’s back on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. And then he cries, as loud as the reduced amount of oxygen in his lungs allows, while Jared breathes soothing noises into his ear.

Finally there are no more tears, just raw hurt. He feels like he just cut his chest open and there it was, all the weight he’s been carrying the last year or so. He hadn’t known it was there. He hadn’t known that’s why he was feeling so heavy. So very sad. He just feels so horribly sad. And crushed.

“You can get off me now,” he says. His voice is hoarse. His throat still really hurts.

“Okay,” Jared says softly. He lifts himself off of Jensen but doesn’t go far, just shifts enough to put his weight on the mattress, propped up on his side with his hand lingering on Jensen’s stomach. “This okay?”

Jensen nods. His lips are still turned down. He can’t pull them back up no matter how hard he tries. He wants to hide his face behind his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Jared shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much all of this was affecting you.”

“It shouldn’t!” Jensen runs a hand over his face and it comes away wet. The skin on his face tingles. “He is not real; he is just a character I play. But he feels more. He is in my heart.”

“I get it. I understand. And I love that he is.” Jared kisses his shoulder. “I love that you love him so much. But, baby, all that empathy is going to cause you to burn out if you’re not careful.”

“I know, I know, I know.” Jensen hitches his breath. “But I don’t know how to stop. I can’t stop. He’s in my heart.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jared rubs Jensen’s stomach, his big, warm hand covering almost his whole abdomen. “How about we talk to Eric? Explain why you need to know now, and not whenever he decides?”

Jensen breathes in. He needs to know but at the same time he doesn’t want to. What if it’s so much worse than he fears? What if Dean was there for years? What if what they did to him is too much for Jensen’s heart to handle? But not knowing is twisting up his insides. Like a snake choking his organs, his lungs. Sinking its teeth into his heart. “He won’t tell us. He likes surprising us.”

“He likes torturing us,” Jared mutters. “But,” he adds and palms Jensen’s cheek, gazing at him with eyes so soft Jensen’s breath hitches. “He doesn’t know what it’s like. How it feels. So, let’s just call and tell him.”

Jensen swallows. Okay. Okay. Yes. He needs to know. “Now?”

Jared hesitates. “Maybe we better wait until we’re sure he’s awake. It’s not even ten o’clock. On a Sunday.”

“The weather is really nice,” Jensen points out. “He should not be sleeping when the weather is this nice.”

“Maybe he’s having sex. Like we were about to.” Jared smiles and strokes his hand down Jensen’s tummy again. “We still could. Just while we wait for him to get up.”

“My dick is flaccid,” Jensen says. He’s not sure he can get hard again when he feels this sad.

Jared slips his hand further down and palms Jensen’s dick, gently, comforting. It doesn’t even twitch. “Do you want to get dressed instead? Go sit on the porch?”

Jensen shakes his head. He wants to be naked with Jared. He wants to feel Jared close to him, with nothing between them. “I want to be here, with you. I want you. I want to have sex with you.”

Jared tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. Well, how about I fuck you? Would you like that?”

Jensen thinks it over. He always feels more relaxed after Jared fucks him. “Okay. Can you lie on top of me? You’re very heavy. Not fat,” he hastens to add because some people think being big is bad. “Just heavy. It’s good.”

“I can do whatever you want,” Jared says and kisses him. “Front or back?”

“Front. I want to see you. You are very beautiful.”

“Like a god, I hear,” Jared says with a smile and kisses him again.

They kiss until Jensen needs oxygen and then he lies back and lets Jared do all the work, arranging a pillow under his butt and fetching the supplies from the nightstand. Jensen watches Jared through half shut eyes. How he moves. The muscles of his arms, tensing and relaxing, his pecs sometimes jumping, his stomach moving with his breathing. The look of concentration on his face, the slight flush to his cheeks as he starts the preparations.

“Every year,” Jensen says in awe. “You get more beautiful every year.”

Jared looks up, surprised, and Jensen feels his face go hot. “Sorry.”

“No. I want to hear it. Tell me.”

Jensen shakes his head, but as Jared slips the first finger inside, his mouth starts up again without him meaning to. “Your face, it keeps changing. Maturing. So beautiful. You were beautiful before,” he adds before Jared gets any wrong ideas. “Always so beautiful.” He breathes out a whimper when Jared slips another finger inside, stretching him. Yes! So good. “But now, now you’re grown up. A man. An amazing man. So big. So strong.” He sucks in his breath. Oh God. That… that is so, so good. “You are so strong. Like a horse.”

Jared is blushing. The tint to his cheeks gets darker the longer Jensen talks but he doesn’t tell him to stop. Just keeps his eyes on what he’s doing because he knows Jensen likes to look at him and it’s harder to talk when Jared looks back. Eventually, he has to stop talking, because it gets too difficult with Jared pushing three long fingers into him, deep, deep, deep. So good, it’s… ah. Ah! Oh God! So, so good.

“Ready?” Jared asks, already pulling out his fingers because after all those years he can tell. Still, he always asks. Jensen loves that he always asks. Even when Jensen’s really horny and desperate and just wants Jared to get right in there. “Jensen?”

“Yes!” He puts his feet up on Jared’s shoulders and Jared hoists him higher, like he weighs nothing. God, so strong. Jensen breathes out as Jared pushes inside, carefully slow at first and then the rest of the way in one long slide, until he’s pressed in tight. Yes. There.

“Okay?” he asks, voice slightly strangled.

“Yes.” Jensen slips his feet off Jared’s shoulders, and plants them on the bed, knees bent. “Come. Down.”

Jared grins and leans forward, bracing himself on his arms as he straightens out his knees, and then he’s lowering himself until his whole weight is crushing Jensen into the mattress. “This good?”

“Yes.” Jensen wraps his arms around Jared’s neck and pulls him even closer. “Now move.”

Jared huffs out a laugh. “Bossy bottom.”

He lifts his hips and pushes forward, slow at first but gradually harder and deeper. So big, so big. Jensen’s eyes fall closed, his mouth opens to let out small breathless moans. Every push of Jared’s hips crushes their stomachs and chests together, making it harder and harder to breathe in. Jared’s own breathing is hot and heavy on Jensen’s neck. He keeps making low noises, growls. Like a dog. Possessive. Protective. Against all odds Jensen’s dick starts filling up where it’s pressed between their pelvises, squeezed so tight it almost hurts. God, it’s all so good, he can’t, he can’t… Jensen bites into Jared’s shoulder, whining. It sounds pitiful, pathetic, needy. It doesn’t matter. He just wants Jared closer, wants to pull him into his own skin, his limbs and torso. He grabs Jared’s butt, digging his fingers into the hard muscles, trying to get him closer, deeper. God, yes, like that. So big. He’s so big inside him.

Jared groans, his movements are getting more erratic, faster. His hips shift and oh God, yes, there! Jensen’s teeth leave a wet bitemark on Jared’s shoulder as he gasps for air. He can feel his orgasm building, fast, making his testicles tingle. It’s coming, it’s coming. He lets go, hands flopping to his sides as he relaxes every muscle so there’s no resistance, just Jared, crushing him, then comes with a choked whimper as Jared’s weight squeezes the last bubble of air out of his lungs. The world spins and spins and spins. And then Jared is gasping, his mouth wet and open on Jensen’s neck as he shakes on top of him, before collapsing, his chest heaving. So heavy, so heavy.

Too heavy! He can’t breathe! He can’t breathe!

Jensen lets out a weak whine. He tries to push Jared off even if he feels too faint to lift his arms. Jared groans. He raises himself up on his elbows and carefully pulls out before tipping over. They lie side by side, gulping in so much air the oxygen level in the room must drop at least five percent.

“Good?” Jared finally croaks out.

Jensen nods. He still feels a little dizzy. His whole body hurts. It’s good. It’s more than good. He thinks he could maybe even fall asleep again. Except… “Can we call Eric now?”

Jared groans. And then he laughs. And then he kisses Jensen even if they’re both still heaving for breath.

Eric is very quiet after Jared explains. Then he says, “You’re not gonna like it.”

Jared feels Jensen go rigid by his side where they sit on the swing on the back porch. That doesn’t sound good. “We’re not really liking it at the moment,” Jared says. “You not telling us is not making it any better.”

“It was forty,” Eric mumbles, like he’s hoping they won’t hear him.

“Forty months?” Jared says horrified.

“Forty years.”

Jensen jumps up, crashing his shoulder into the doorframe in his hurry to get into the house. Jared hears him thunder up the stairs, stumbling at least once on his way. Shit. Jared aches to go after him, but they need answers.

“Forty years?” He closes his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Give or take. We want people to be horrified!” Eric eagerly exclaims. “We’re gonna make it a heartfelt revelation, Dean finally opening up to Sam. The fans will cry their eyes out. It will be great!”

Jesus.

“Okay, but Jensen is struggling,” Jared says, trying to keep his temper. “He’s been struggling since Dean made that damn deal. It’s been wearing him down. That’s why he’s been having problems on set the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Look, I’m sorry, guys. Jensen, I am really sorry, but… This is the story I need to tell. This is Dean’s story. Jensen, you have to-”

“He’s not here, he left,” Jared cuts in.

“Shit,” Eric says. He sounds genuinely concerned. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. No. He’s been really struggling, Eric. He’s just so damn good at masking, I didn’t realize.” Jared runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. He wants to tell Eric to change the script, to do something to make this easier on Jensen, but Eric is right. It will be great. He just needs to help Jensen through it.

“I just don’t get it,” Eric says. “If anyone can tell the difference between fact and fiction, it’s Jensen.”

That would usually be true but… “I don’t think he’s ever had a character like Dean before. It’s a lot. Dean is a lot.”

“I know,” Eric says, sounding immensely proud. “Man, I love that dude. Best guy I’ve ever created. No offence to Sam but Dean is like… Well, he’s who I always wanted to be, you know. Without all the trauma, obviously. And we never would have been able to make him what he is without Jensen. Best day of my life when that kid walked in to audition. What?” Eric says, sounding further away. “No, honey, I didn’t mean… Jared, I gotta go. Honey, wait…”

“Eric! Eric! You need to give us more info, man. What it was like, what he went through. Promise me.”

“I will, I will. And tell Jensen sorry for me, okay? Talk to you later.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jared with a heavy stone in his heart. Fuck.

He finds Sadie lying guard in front of the closed closet door. When Jared sits down on the floor she lays her head in his lap, whining softly. “I know, girl. I know,” Jared murmurs, scratching her behind the ears before he knocks lightly on the closet door. “Jensen? I know you like to be alone, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I can be alone with you,” he hears Jensen’s muffled voice say.

“I like being alone with you, too,” Jared says and leans back against the bed. “Eric says he’s sorry. Not sorry enough to change it though.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything, but Jared hears him hitching his breath.

“He promises to give you more details about what was done to Dean down there. So at least we’ll know. But knowing Eric, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“No, no, no. Nothing good,” he hears Jensen mutter. “Nothing good happens in Hell.”

There’s silence for a long time and then Jensen starts talking softly to himself, the way he does when he’s adjusting to new information. “All bad. All bad. Horrors. Horrible, horrible horrors. For forty years. For- Forty years! He should… He should…” There’s a pause and then, “How is he still sane?”

Jared frowns. That’s a good question. “Maybe he doesn’t remember.”

“He remembers some,” Jensen says. “I filmed him screaming.”

Jared sits up. “What? When?”

“Day before hiatus. They smeared fake blood all over my face. And then they made me scream. A lot. So loud. So loud. Hurt my throat.”

Jesus, no wonder Dean is screaming in his head.

“You didn’t tell me about that.”

“You asked me to stop talking about Hell. This was supposed to be in Hell. So I didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t mean…” Jared rubs a hand over his face. No, this is on him. He screwed up. He couldn’t handle all the Hell talk so he made Jensen stop. Which meant Jensen had to deal with it on his own. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I never should have said that. You should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“Not things that make you feel bad,” Jensen murmurs.

“I’d rather feel bad with you than have you feeling bad on your own, thinking you can’t talk to me about it. I’m really sorry. Do you want to tell me about it now?”

There’s silence for a while. Then, “Eric told me to imagine Dean surrounded by demons that were about to rip him to pieces. And that he was really, really scared because he knew he would never, ever get out.” A pause. “I played it perfectly.”

Jared swallows. “I bet you did.”

“I played it perfectly. He was really scared. He was so scared. His heart was racing in his chest. He was shaking. He was so scared his brain stopped working. Sammy. That was the only thought in his head. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Over and over and over. And, ‘No’. Nonononono. Please, NO! Please, please, please. And help! And-”

“Jensen, can I please open the door?”

Jared doesn’t wait for an answer, just pulls the door open. Jensen is sitting with his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth. His eyes are closed. There are tears streaming down his face.

Jared’s chest tightens even further. “Hey, baby,” he says gently. “How about you come out here so I can hug you?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. No touching.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jared shuffles closer. He lays down his hand, palm up, by Jensen’s leg. “My hand is right here if you want it,” he says.

They sit in silence while Jensen keeps rocking, gradually slowing down until he finally stops. There’s a minute or two and then Jared feels Jensen fumble for his hand. Jared slips his fingers between Jensen’s sweaty ones and squeezes. Then waits.

“I’m okay,” Jensen finally says. His voice sounds tight, as if someone strangled his throat.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Jared reminds him.

Jensen sniffles. “That’s contradictory.”

“I mean that sometimes we are not okay, and we don’t have to pretend we are,” Jared says softly. “That must have been a really hard scene. I wish I could have been there with you.” He squeezes Jensen’s hand. “I want to be there for you.”

“I did the scene,” Jensen murmurs into his knees. “I smiled and told Eric it was good. I went to my trailer and sat in the shower for an hour and four minutes. Then I was fine. I was fine,” he insists.

Jared tries to remember where he was that day. He can’t. Jensen had a breakdown in the shower and Jared can’t even remember where he was. And then Jensen hadn’t been able to tell him about it because Jared had selfishly told him not to. God.

“If you had been fine, if you were fine, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now,” Jared says, stroking his thumb over the back of Jensen’s hand.

“I’m not fine now,” Jensen admits with a defeated sigh. “I’m trying to be but I’m not.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”

Jensen sighs again. He rubs at his eyes. “I’m a really good actor,” he says.

Jared nods. “You are, but you shouldn’t need to act around me. I’m really sorry you felt you had to hide how you were feeling. And I’m really, really sorry I asked you not to talk about Hell. I didn’t think it through. I thought talking about it was making you more anxious.”

Jensen bites his lip. “Talking about it lets the thoughts out. Not talking crams them all inside my head. There are so many thoughts. They are so loud. They make it hard to breathe. Sometimes.”

It’s been over six months since Jared asked him to please, please stop talking about Hell. Six months of those thoughts stacking up inside Jensen’s head, with no place to go. Jared breathes in and pushes his guilt aside for now. He can deal with it later.

“Is this why you’ve had trouble sleeping? Are you having nightmares?”

“Sometimes. But mostly it’s just my thoughts. They are very loud. I can’t sleep when they’re so loud.” Jensen rubs his hand under his nose. “Sometimes I don’t even know what the thoughts are, like they’re hiding, but my body knows. My body can’t relax because something is wrong.” He rests his forehead against his knees. “It’s like I want to run away but I don’t know where the danger is.”

“Do you feel that way right now?”

Jensen nods.

“Okay.” Jared squeezes his hand. “That sounds like really bad anxiety. Do you think you should maybe talk to a doctor? See if there’s some medication you could try?”

“I know there’s medication,” Jensen mumbles into his knees. “I don’t like any of them.”

Ah. “Okay. Then what about therapy?” Jared tries.

Jensen raises his head and looks at Jared. Then he pulls his hand from Jared’s grasp, fingers curling into a fist. “No.”

“I don’t mean like with the behavioral therapy, Jensen,” Jared says softly. “Lots of people see therapists for anxiety. I have.”

Jensen shakes his head. “No.”

“But-”

“Can’t I talk to you?” It sounds so forlorn, Jared feels like shit.

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly. “You can always talk to me about anything. Everything. Whenever. But I’m not an expert. If you need help, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t need help,” Jensen insists. His voice has gone tight again. “I just need someone to listen.”

And there’s that boulder of guilt again. “You think that will be enough? If I just listen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Jensen hides his eyes behind his hand. “But everything is too much, and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Okay. Then I’ll listen.” He rubs Jensen’s leg. “Can we maybe lie down on the bed to talk? We don’t have to touch, it’s just my butt hurts from sitting on the floor.”

Jensen nods. “My butt hurts too,” he says and crawls out of the closet before straightening up with a visible wince. “And not just because we had sex.”

“You’re in pain from us having sex?” Jared says, alarmed.

“I’m joking,” Jensen says tiredly as he climbs onto the bed. “That was a joke.” He sighs. “My jokes are wasted on you.”

Jared breathes out a laugh. “You have such a weird sense of humor.” He lies down beside Jensen on the bed, making sure to keep a couple of inches between them. “And timing. You have weird timing.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” Jensen fumbles for Jared’s hand, gripping it tight. “Can we talk about Hell now?”

“Yeah.” Jared squeezes his hand back. “Yeah, we can.”

“You don’t have to be here,” Jensen says, carefully poking his shoulder. It hurts from when he bumped into the doorway. “You already did your scene. You have the rest of the week off.”

“You kidding? I love this. You do all the work and I get to sit here and watch you be amazing.” Jared throws him what looks like a genuine smile. “It’s my favorite pastime ever.”

Jensen huffs but he can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not what you said last night. Last night you said-”

“Alright, alright!” Jared cuts in, laughing. “So, maybe I have a few favorite pastimes.” He leans over, nudging Jensen’s shoulder with his own. “But every single one of them includes you.”

This time Jensen’s smile spreads all over his face, the tug so strong he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. “Mine too,” he says, sneaking a hand across the hardly existing space between their chairs to grab Jared’s hand. “Mine too.”

“Even the times you like to be alone?” Jared asks. His tone is light but his words seem hesitant. Jensen has gotten pretty good at reading Jared. Which is just as well because Jared still has a tendency to say one thing while he means something completely different, or at least something more. Like now.

“I’m never completely alone. Even when you’re not close, you’re always here,” Jensen says and taps his chest. “You’re in my heart.”

Jared looks at him. His eyes are a little misty. He squeezes Jensen’s hand. “Same here,” he says. “In my heart, right where you belong.” He clears his throat and looks away for a moment. When he looks back, he seems normal again. “Speaking of being in your heart, how are you? How is Dean?”

Jensen pulls his hand back. Not because he wants to, but because he sees one of the guest actors looking their way. Matthew. Matt. He’s supposed to play young John. Jensen supposes he looks a little like Jeff. Maybe. Maybe a little too soft to be a Vietnam vet. Jensen played a marine on stage, last year, as an extra project during summer hiatus. He was good and he enjoyed it, but it was exhausting. Not doing that again. No matter what Dad says.

“Jensen?”

“He’s still screaming,” Jensen says. “Still very loud but he’s so tired.” He feels it in his chest. He sighs heavily to try and lift some of the load. It doesn’t work. “He’s just very, very tired.”

“And you?”

“I’m also tired. But not as anxious.” He shoots Jared a quick glance since Matt is still watching them. Jared looks concerned, even worried. His eyebrows are furrowed. “Talking helped.”

Jared relaxes slightly. “That’s good. I’m glad. You wanna talk some more later?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

Jensen looks over at Matt. Gives him a little wave. Matt smiles then looks away, cheeks pink. Oh. Well, that’s okay. He’s used to that. It’s better than the strange looks Genevieve has been sending them ever since she caught them hugging before Jensen’s first scene with Misha. (Which went okay. He still stares but Jensen can handle it better, now he’s less anxious. And Misha makes sure to give him breaks. Plus, he doesn’t seem as nervous, which is good because other people being nervous about him always makes Jensen feel uncomfortable.) It hadn’t even been that intimate but maybe she somehow could tell. Or maybe she thought Jared was giving poor little Jensen a hug for being such a good boy at his job.

“I’m kinda jealous you get to go back in time,” Jared says, interrupting Jensen’s thoughts just as they’re starting to make him agitated. Sometimes it’s like Jared can tell when Jensen’s thoughts need reeling in. “Love the seventies. Great music. Groovy clothes. Free love.” Jared grins. “Bet Dean could pick up a hippie chick if he wanted.”

“Yes. Easily.” Jared snorts so Jensen quickly adds, “Dean, not me,” because sometimes Jared seems to have trouble telling the difference.

Jared laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, believe me. You could pick up any chick in the world, if you wanted. Guy, too.”

“I know.” Jensen frowns. “I’m very attractive. But I won’t. Because I love you.”

Jared flushes pink, ducking his head as if to hide the smile that comes automatically every time Jensen tells him he loves him. Jensen still doesn’t understand why Jared needs to hear it again and again but he loves how happy Jared looks every time it happens so sometimes he says it, just for that. Just to see that blush in his cheeks and the smile and the way his eyes light up.

“I love you, too,” Jared says softly then looks up. “I think they’re calling for you.”

Jensen follows his gaze and sees one of the assistants, Paula, jogging her way over. They’re shooting a scene in a diner. He and Jared watched Back to the Future last night because Jared said the scene where Dean and John meet is a homage to a scene in that movie. He says it’s very cool. Jensen can kinda see how it would be, but his thoughts are focused on Dean. The shock and emotional rollercoaster of meeting his dad again. The dad he loves and misses so much but still resents for all he put him through. And John is just a kid, really. Nineteen years old. Ten years younger than Dean, not counting the forty years in Hell. (Forty, forty, forty! He was there for forty years! Forty, for- Stop! Stop it! Not now!) Because that would make him fifty years younger than Dean and that’s just…

“We’re ready for you,” Paula says, a little out of breath. “You need a few minutes?”

“No, I’m good.” Jensen stands up, putting his hand briefly on Jared’s knee, squeezing it. “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“Kick it in the ass,” Jared calls after him and Jensen gives him a thumbs up. He will. He’s a great actor, and emotional turmoil? Well, that’s his specialty.

He breathes out Jensen. He breathes in Dean.

Still screaming, always screaming, but it’s pushed to the back of his mind. Pushed back, pushed down, pushed away. He can’t think about It, if he thinks about It, he will lose what little he has left of his mind, and he can’t afford that. Sam needs him. Sammy. He has to get back to Sammy. Goddammit, Cas! What’s with the frigging blackout? And where the hell did that feathery asshole zap him? God, his head is killing him, like the worst hangover ever. Coffee, he needs coffee. Oh, thank God. There. A diner.

Dean pulls the door open and steps inside.

Fin

Some notes:

Okay. So.... Remember when I first started this verse 14 years ago and I said I didn't really know what I was talking about? Haha, yes. Since then both my daughters and myself have been diagnosed with autism, they three years ago at age 21 and 17, and me last spring, at 50. The fact that I based so many of Jensen's traits on my own probably should have given me a clue. Or, you know, all the research I did. But here's the thing, 14 years ago almost everything written about autism was based on boys. Girls and women (and probably non-binary) are dangerously under-diagnosed because symptoms represent differently in many ways than in boys/men. We tend to mask so well no one realizes what's going on on the inside, not even us sometimes. Which can lead to severe autistic burnout. *waves*

Anyway, since my diagnosis I have been educating myself a lot, trying to understand who I am. And, well, many things have changed in those 14 years.

1. First off, Asperger's Syndrome was removed from the DSM 5 in 2013, it now all falls under Autism Spectrum Disorder. (Although my older daughter was diagnosed with Asperger's as late as 2021, but her psychiatrist was old-school enough to retire shortly later. As we are very much alike I guess I would have gotten that diagnosis as well, if they hadn't changed it.) Even if it was still used at the time this fic takes place, I decided not to. But Jensen is very set in his ways so he might still refer to himself as an aspie, or at least grumble about it.

2. At the time I wrote the first fic in this verse I was not aware of the connection the puzzle symbol has with Autism Speaks. It's not theirs originally but that's the association most people make now. There are different opinions to what the puzzle means but I want to make it clear that I never saw it as meaning pieces were missing. I saw it as us being more complicated than we might seem and neurotypicals might need to put in a bit of an effort to see the whole picture. And well, that life and people can be pretty confusing sometimes. Still, I contemplated changing the name of the verse but... I don't know. It's from the title of the first fic and is taken from the song Patterns by Simon and Garfunkel. The lyrics go: "my eyes can dimly see the patterns of my life and the puzzle that is me". And it just fit. And honestly, fuck Autism Speaks.

3. This fic is very personal to me, as you might guess. Getting a late diagnosis kinda makes you reevaluate your whole life and who you are. Unmasking all those habits you have adopted to hide how you're really feeling is a weird experience, I'll tell you. I've always moved my fingers and hands a lot but now they just won't stay still. Tapping, twitching, patting. My older daughter says it's cute. And I wasn't even aware that I avoided eye contact, I just thought everyone found it uncomfortable. Mostly when I'm talking though, not the other person. I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety as well and that's kinda were this fic comes from.

4. And also from Dean in Hell because somehow almost everything I'm writing lately comes back to that period, from the moment Dean makes the deal and throughout season 4, at least. Guess I'm still dealing with that trauma, all those years later. I am not joking when I say I was a wreck during that period. My empathy was off the charts. Still can hardly think about it but clearly I do since I can't stop writing about it. This is not the last fic. I have at least one more coming, a Wincest one, hopefully in the not too far away future. It's kinda stuck at the moment but... *crosses fingers*

5. As always, this story shows the perspective of one person and so doesn't represent everyone with autism. We are all different. If you feel I got something very wrong compared to your experience, that's probably why.