Fic: Haven. RPS. Chris/Jensen. NC-17. Chapter 6/11

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.



The happy feeling in Jensen’s chest evaporates, just like that. Steve. Steve who doesn’t like him. Steve who knows way more about him than he is comfortable with because Chris fucking told the guy. Steve who calls Chris baby, who kisses and fucks him on the couch, or, more likely, now that Jensen has his own room to go to, in Chris’s bed. Fucking Steve.

Chris seems oblivious to Jensen’s turmoil, like inviting your fuckbuddy over when you’re making the move on someone new is just normal. Maybe it is. Maybe this is what it means, being gay, or queer or whatever. Just fucking around with whoever you like. Maybe Jensen would know that if he knew anything. Maybe he’s the one being a goddamn idiot, thinking what they’re doing means anything special.

Maybe Chris tells everyone he kisses that he loves them.

“You comin’?” Chris looks back and frowns. “Your back hurtin’? Need help?”

“No, I’m good,” Jensen lies quickly and hurries over. His limp is a lot better, his arm too, it’s just his back that’s still giving him trouble. Shooting pain all the way up to his neck, giving him headaches.

“You look tired,” Chris says as soon as they get inside, kissing him softly. “You should lie down, darlin’, get some rest.”

“Maybe.” He slips away from Chris’s arms and heads for his room before he does something stupid, like ask Chris to uninvite Steve.

“Hey.” Jensen looks back and Chris is watching him, worried. “You’re alright, darlin’, you got that, right? Those tests all came back negative. That means you’re good.” Jensen nods and Chris smiles, eyes soft. “Damn lucky, son, but I’ll take that luck over money any day.”

Jensen nods again, and slips into his room, closing the door behind him.

Chris knocks on his door for lunch and they eat in relative silence, Chris giving him worried glances then looking away pretending not to, every time Jensen looks up. Jensen doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask what they’re doing, what it all means, but he feels like he should already know, like it’s just another part of queer culture he knows nothing about but should, and he’s kinda fed up with feeling stupid and naïve.

“So, Steve,” he says, trying to sound casual but probably failing. “You known him long?”

Chris shrugs. “Sorta. We met in college.”

Jensen stares at him. “You went to college?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” Chris huffs. “I went but they kinda threw me out.”

Jensen snorts without meaning to. “For what?”

“Weren’t much of a team player,” Chris dismisses. “Just liked doin’ my own thing. Anyway, we met, started talkin’bout music and ‘fore you know it, we’d formed a band and were playin’ all over.”

“What happened?”

Chris hesitates, then puts down his fork, face serious. “Me. My… thing. From how Steve tells it we were mindin’ our own in some dive bar - well, the alley out back - when some drunk asshole took offence to us bein’ closer than he figured we should. Had some choice words to say about the matter, then clocked Steve when he tried to calm him down. Apparently, I fuckin’ lost it. Steve hauled me off the fucker as I was tryin’ to strangle him.”

He grimaces. “Don’t really remember much of it. We packed up pretty quick and ran off. Ain’t too proud of that but the guy was a fuckin’ bigot so…” He shrugs. “Anyway, after a couple more incidents I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My dad’s genes had finally kicked in. Had it checked out and sure enough. Was put on them pills, which lemme tell you, kicked my fuckin’ ass. Took months for the side effects to tone down. Couldn’t really keep tourin’ after that, too stressful, so here I am.”

Jensen breathes out. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Chris picks up his fork again and stabs at his eggs. “You wanna ask about me and Steve? That it?”

Jensen’s face heats up. He hates that he’s so obvious. “Is there? A you and him?”

“Never serious.” Chris looks uncomfortable for a moment, like he’s thinking of something, but then he says, “Was like I said. We’re just friends but we like sex so…” He shrugs.

Jensen nods slowly. He doesn’t want to ask but he feels he needs to know. “And he’s coming tonight to…?”

Chris’s head jerks up. “What? No! That what you thought?” When Jensen averts his gaze Chris drops his fork and gets up, walking around the kitchen island to wrap his arms around him. “Darlin’, no. I ain’t fuckin’ around on you. He’s just comin’ for dinner before tonight’s gig and I told him he could sleep over, after. On the couch. What, you think I invited him over for that, with you right here?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen mumbles into Chris’s hair. He feels stupid. “I don’t know how this works.”

“How what works, sweetheart?” Chris asks, pulling back to look at him.

“Guys. I mean, I know girls don’t wanna share but guys are kinda horndogs so…” Jensen shrugs, unable to look Chris in the eye. “I don’t know.”

Chris’s fingers still where they’ve been rubbing Jensen’s neck. “If you wanna meet other people…”

“No!” Jensen grimaces. “No, I don’t. I just want you.”

Chris smiles, the relief evident. “That’s good then. We’re on the same page.” He kisses Jensen and Jensen kisses back, his chest a lot lighter. Still…

“You sure he won’t mind?”

There’s that look again, like Chris would rather not think about something, but he just shakes his head. “It weren’t ever like that. I mean, I guess it might be a bit weird at first, but we’ve been friends forever and it’s always been more about the music. And the drinkin’,” he adds with a grin.

“Alright.” But Jensen can’t help thinking maybe it won’t be quite as simple as Chris likes to believe.

Steve shows up about two hours before showtime, with two bags full of groceries and a grin that seems genuine enough despite the coolness in his eyes. Turns out him and Chris used to cook up a storm when they lived together back in the day. Steve grins and winks and says he’s going to show Jensen what a fine little housewife he’s landed himself. Or something like that. Some of the innuendo goes right over Jensen’s head and again he feels naïve. There’s just so much he doesn’t know but he can guess plenty from the way Chris turns red and elbows Steve whenever he throws jokes at Jensen that he just doesn’t get.

“So, Jen, you feeling better? Heard you had a scare.”

Jensen shoots Chris a glare but he’s busying himself chopping onions, cheeks pink all the way to his ears. “It’s Jensen. And I’m fine. I got lucky.”

“I mean the other night, on stage,” Steve elaborates, suddenly serious. “Chris’s been really worried.”

“Oh. I’m okay. I guess I was just tired.” He feels uncomfortable under Steve’s intense gaze and slides off the stool, a little too fast. His back twinges painfully, making him suck in his breath.

Chris looks up, alarmed. “Easy, darlin’! You hurtin’? Go sit down, I’ll get the pills.” He throws down the knife and hurries to the bathroom, leaving Jensen and Steve to look at each other in awkward silence.

“I’m gonna…” Jensen says, but when he turns the twist shoots pain through his back again, making him falter in his steps as his vision goes hazy. Steve is there, lightning fast, with a hand under his elbow, helping him hobble over to the couch and sink down on the soft cushions. “Fuck,” he breathes out, feeling weak and humiliated.

“You took quite a beating. It takes time,” Steve says gently and suddenly Jensen sees the man Chris has been friends with all these years, the man he calls for advice and reassurance. The man Chris has no idea is so obviously in love with him.

“Yeah.” He wonders if Chris didn’t tell Steve about fucking up his back further or if Steve is just loyal enough not to mention it.

Just then Chris hurries back with the painkillers and Steve hands him a glass of water. Chris strokes Jensen’s back, touch so light Jensen only knows from the warmth, radiating over his skin. He shivers without meaning to, which makes Chris look even more worried.

“Lie down,” he says, puffing up the pillow and placing it under Jensen’s head before covering him with the blanket. “There. Now just you rest until dinner’s ready, darlin’,” he says and kisses Jensen softly on the forehead. Steve turns his head away and Jensen feels a tightness in his stomach.

He lies watching them, working side by side, smiling and bickering like an old couple. Chris looking up to check on him every now and then, smiling when he catches Jensen watching them. Steve following his gaze, his smile dimming momentarily before he catches himself and continues pretending he’s having the time of his life. Jensen closes his eyes and feigns sleep. As soon as they notice, their voices lower, murmured words lulling him into a sort of slumber where he can’t seem able to open his eyes, but he keeps catching bits of sentences, whispered quietly.

“… never thought… settle down…” “… I just… happy…” “… were so terrible…” “… know it ain’t like…”

Then louder: “Then what the fuck is it like?” “Steve, please…” “Don’t.”

It’s quiet for a while after that and Jensen sinks into oblivion.

Chris watches Steve pace the room, feeling like a complete asshole. He should have known. Why didn’t he know? They’ve been doing this for eight fucking years. Goddammit! “I still love you, man,” he tries but the hurt look Steve sends him shuts him up. For a minute. “What you want me to say?” he tries again. “I do. I fuckin’ love you. But…”

“Forget it.”

“This ain’t just on me, man.” He knows he’s whining but come on! “You never said. Not like we’ve ever been exclusive.”

Steve stops. He takes a deep breath before fixing his gaze on Chris, eyes burning. “I was. I never fucked around. Never. And yeah, I know I never said. But you know why. Because you… you’re not that guy! You’re not the guy that settles down. And I was good with that. Except now it seems you are and… Fuck, Chris, it fucking hurts, okay? It hurts that you never even considered doing that with me.”

“I never considered it ‘cause it weren’t supposed to happen!” Chris shoots back. “I’ve always known that ain’t for me. I can’t get serious, I can’t do the whole relationship thing. Not with this goddamn curse, makin’ me poison. Knowin’ what can happen...” He rubs a hand over his face. God, he’s so tired. “I tried to fight it, I did. But he just… Shit, Steve, look at him!”

Steve rolls his eyes but looks over at Jensen who is fast asleep. Full lips parted, long eyelashes dusting his cheeks. He looks angelic. Absolutely breathtaking. Chris literally has trouble breathing, just watching him.

Steve sighs. “I never said he wasn’t pretty. I mean, I get it. No way I can compete with that.”

“That ain’t… No. Not just that.” Chris walks over to crouch by Jensen’s side, lovingly stroking the hair from his eyes, careful not to wake him. “Never believed in love, not that kind of love. Not this kind. Not for me. But he looks at me and I just… It hurts, Steve. It hurts my damn soul, just thinkin’ I might lose him. It hurts so goddamn much, and I think, I think if I did, I’d just as soon give up on it all.” He looks up at Steve, who is staring at him, stunned. “And whatever we had, man, whatever you still feel, I don’t think it was ever that.”

Steve swallows. He shakes his head. “I should go,” he says, turning away, but Chris shoots to his feet and catches Steve’s wrist, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

“Please, stay. Please. I know it ain’t fair, man, but I need you. And we already made all this damn food.”

Steve hesitates and for a moment Chris thinks this is it, they’re done. Then Steve huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, since we made food,” he relents. “But I’m not doing the damn dishes.”

“Pretty boy can do the dishes,” Chris says and laughs, relieved, even if they both know he’ll end up doing them himself, with Jensen’s back still too fucked up for him to stand for any length of time.

He releases his tight grip but feels Steve’s reluctance to let him go and so holds on for a while longer, breathing in Steve’s familiar scent, the strong and soothing presence. When they finally break apart, they’re both careful not to look the other in the eye.

“We should eat,” Chris says, voice gruff, and goes to lay the table.

Steve doesn’t blink an eye when he pulls out beers for the three of them although Chris guesses he’s gonna hear about the whiskey he plans on drinking later tonight. He cuts the grilled chicken breasts into slices and lays them upon the salad beds, scatters bits of crisp bacon over before shaving parmesan cheese on top of each plate. When he turns around Steve is standing over Jensen and Chris feels a flutter of protective annoyance in his chest. Calm down, boy.

“He looks worse than last time,” Steve says.

“I know,” Chris says, arranging the plates on the table. “I know, alright?”

Steve nods at Jensen’s arms that rest on top of the blanket, painted in colors. “You really did a number on him.”

Chris stills. “I beg your pardon?”

Steve looks up at him and frowns. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean…” He sighs. “It’s just freaky seeing the aftermath. All those times I dragged you off some asshole, guess this was what we left behind, huh?” He shakes his head.

“I didn’t beat him!” Chris growls. “That ain’t what happened!”

Steve raises his hands, startled. “Jesus, I know! Calm down! I’m just saying…”

“What? You’re just sayin’ what?”

“I don’t know! It’s just disturbing, okay?”

“What you guys talking about?” Jensen mumbles, drowsy eyes blinking awake.

“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Chris says, glaring at Steve before turning to Jensen with a soft smile. “Dinner’s ready, is all.”

The conversation is stilted at first but when no one mentions things they’d rather not talk about, it starts to ease up. Steve and Chris share stories from gigs, both at Haven and other places, before Chris stopped touring. Jensen listens, grins and laughs, eyes sparkling when he looks at Chris, like he’s someone cool, someone actually interesting. Chris catches Steve watching them, sort of wistful, but when he sees Chris looking, he just grins, like it’s nothing. The food is good but Chris still doesn’t have much of an appetite so he pushes it around the plate, taking a few small bites when he can sense either of them watching him. They don’t say anything, but he can feel their worry, like an itch upon his skin. When he puts his fork down and sits back, he hasn’t made much of a dent, even if he made his portion considerably smaller than theirs.

When it’s time to head downstairs Jensen declares he wants to come with, saying he’s bored of sitting in the apartment every night, that he wants to see what all the fuss is about. “If you guys are any good.” With a grin that makes Chris want to drag him into the bedroom - now they’ve finally got the all-clear - and forget all about the gig and Steve and the many reasons why they should still be taking it slow.

Chris hesitates but Steve is looking at him, challenging, so he says alright and doesn’t mention that he wasn’t going to sing, not really, except maybe a couple of songs.

“I’ll make sure you don’t drink too much,” Steve murmurs under his breath and Chris doesn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful so he just grunts and asks Jensen if he can borrow his guitar. “Wanted to play that thing since I saw it. Steve, look at this beauty.”

Jensen doesn’t even hesitate, which either means he doesn’t realize what a Picasso of an instrument he has, or worse, he’s too smitten to deny Chris anything. Chris suddenly regrets asking but he’s already got the Gibson in his hands and man, it sings to him like no other has, so he just kisses Jensen hard and pretends he can’t feel Steve watching them.

It's a typical Friday night, with the party already in full swing. It’s the first time Jensen’s been downstairs without being too drunk or too nervous to look around, and his eyes are huge, taking it all in. Chris wants to tell him not to stare, but it’s not like he’s hurting anyone. In fact, the ones that notice just grin and wink at him, making him blush a pretty pink that makes Chris’s heart jump.

They slide into the booth and Chris waves at Matt who comes over with the usual beers and bottle of Jack, plus a Coke for Jensen. Matt looks awkward, there’s none of the leers and innuendos, and Chris notices Jensen sitting stiff until Matt’s gone back to the bar.

“Somethin’ you wanna tell me?” he asks Jensen in a low tone. “Matt’s been botherin’ ya?”

Jensen looks startled but he shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says, which means it’s something. “He was just worried,” he adds reluctantly when Chris continues to look at him but there’s something there, in the flush staining his cheeks and the way his face shuts down as he unconsciously wraps his arms around himself.

Chris shoots a glance at Matt, catching him watching them but quickly averting his eyes, a look of trepidation on his face, like he’s expecting retribution, no doubt remembering the last confrontation they had with fear. Goddammit! “He come on to you?” Chris asks, teeth clenching.

“No! No,” Jensen says more firmly when Chris glares, unconvinced. “He just… came up to check on me after you…” He hesitates, biting his lip, and Chris’s stomach twitches. When Jensen adds, “I was coming out of the shower and he saw… you know,” the twitch turns into a full-on clench. “I kinda freaked on him a little. I don’t like people looking at me,” he mumbles.

“Fuck.” Chris looks back at Matt who is pretending not to be watching them. No wonder Matt’s been eyeing him suspiciously the last few days. Chris thought it was just wariness after what had happened between the two of them. Honestly, he’d been surprised Matt didn’t hand in his resignation Tuesday morning. Him and Danneel. But they’d treated him pretty much the same as always, if a little guarded. Which is a lot better than he deserves.

“Wait here,” he says, sliding out of the booth despite Jensen’s panicked protest. “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna have a word,” Chris reassures him, which doesn’t calm Jensen down at all, quite the opposite. “Trust me.” On a whim he kisses Jensen quickly on the lips. Someone whistles behind him, and he has to force himself not to swing around with his fists raised. “I’ll only be a minute,” he says instead.

Matt looks wary but doesn’t budge when he sees Chris coming, just keeps on wiping the bar, although his back visibly tenses. “Hey, boss,” he says. “Get you anything else?”

“Just a word.” Chris slips behind the bar and this time Matt does take a step back. “Relax! I just wanna talk. Jensen was tellin’ me you came upstairs after it all went down on Monday.”

Matt raises his hands, eyes wide. “That wasn’t… No. It was just a misunderstanding. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. I wouldn’t!”

Chris frowns. “What the hell you on about? I’m talkin’ about you seein’ those bruises.”

Matt freezes. “Oh. No, nothing. Nothing.”

“That don’t sound like nothin’,” Chris says. He feels eerily calm. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing! I swear! I just… He was jumpy, probably ‘cause he wasn’t dressed, and I didn’t realize. I mean, I didn’t realize he felt threatened. I just wanted to check he was alright. I backed off as soon as it dawned on me. Fuck, Chris, I swear, I would never!”

Chris glares at him, silent. Matt is sweating but his eyes are open, earnest, despite his panicked body language. Thing is, Chris can easily picture it. Matt has no sense of personal space while Jensen is understandably wary of close contact. Not to mention that being confronted half-naked would make anyone feel intimidated. With Jensen’s history, Chris is just happy he didn’t have a complete freak out. And that Matt is only half the sleazeball he pretends to be.

“Alright,” he says and Matt sags with relief, wiping sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Chris can’t help quirking his lips. He should probably work on not looking like he’s ready to kill people all the time. “Now ‘bout those bruises. I know you saw ‘em, bargin’ in on him like that. He tell you what happened?”

Matt squirms. “We didn’t really talk. I mean, I tried but he just… wanted me to go. He was kinda terrified.” He winces, like he’s still expecting Chris to hit him. To be fair, Chris is seriously considering it. “I thought he was scared of you! I didn’t realize… Look, I’m sorry, but you were all crazy and an hour later he’s all covered in bruises. What was I supposed to think?”

Chris bristles. “Lemme get this straight. You thought I beat him, and you didn’t do shit about it? What the hell’s wrong with you, man?”

Matt blinks in surprise. “I, uh…” He licks his lips nervously. “He said he was fine.”

“Seriously? What, and you’ve just been down here, thinkin’ I’m up there smackin’ him around? And you do nothin’?”

Matt reels back. “No! Jeez, boss. Give me some credit. I just thought… it was one-time thing.”

Chris scoffs. “When’s it ever a one-time thing, huh? You should have done somethin’! Called the cops! At least confronted me!”

“Okay, I’m really confused,” Matt says, shaking his head. “So, you did beat him?”

“No! But I could have. And you, you’d have been an accomplice, not doin’ shit about it!” Chris huffs, disappointed. “We’re gonna have a real talk about right procedures.” He starts turning away, then remembers why he came here. “He held me down when I… I got real mad about ‘em guys who attacked him. I was tryin’ to fight him off to get to them. Bruises were from that. Alright?”

Matt nods. “Okay.”

“I wouldn’t beat him. But if I ever…” He presses his lips together, breathing in through his nose, then fixes his eyes on Matt. “If that ever changes, you make that call, okay? I hurt him, hurt you, hurt anyone that don’t come askin’ for it, you call and have ‘em take me. Alright?”

Matt swallows. “Alright.”

“Good. Fuck, I need a drink.”

He stomps back to the table where there is already a full shot glass waiting for him, along with Steve’s worried face and Jensen’s wary eyes, flickering between him and Matt. He downs the shot, closing his eyes at the familiar burn warming his throat. Damn, that feels good. He grabs the bottle and takes a swig straight from the neck to chase that burn with another. That’s the way to do it. The day he stops drinking is the day they’ll shovel over his damn grave. “We doin’ this or what?” he growls at Steve and grabs Jensen’s guitar.

Steve nods, rubbing Jensen’s shoulder reassuringly before sliding out of the booth. Jensen’s subdued face makes Chris hesitate. He leans over and palms Jensen’s neck, feeling the rapid pulse under his fingers and looks into those pretty green eyes, gazing at him anxiously.

“I ain’t mad. Okay?” He smiles softly and Jensen smiles back, if a little wary. God, he’s beautiful. The whiskey is already warming Chris’s cheeks, so he figures a little more heat won’t hurt. “I love you. Alright, darlin’?”

“Alright.” Jensen’s smile is absolutely blinding. Goddamn, it makes Chris weak in the knees.

“Now, you just sit here and enjoy the show, sweetheart. And if you get tired, you just run along upstairs, and I’ll check up on you before I go to bed. Different bed,” he adds when Jensen’s pupils instantly dilate. “Steve’s stayin’ over. On the couch. I ain’t startin’ nothin’ with him right there. Don’t mean that I don’t want to.”

He grins when Jensen blushes pink. He looks so sweet, Chris relents and pulls him in, kissing him long and hard, not even caring that there are wolf whistles and cheering and Steve yelling at him to get his ass on stage. When they part, Jensen’s eyes are shining, his lips spit-slick and puffed and his pulse pounding under Chris’s palm. Chris wants nothing more than to drag him upstairs this instant, to hell with the show.

“Chris, we’re gonna start without you,” Steve threatens through the sound system and Chris rolls his eyes. Yeah, yeah.

“I love you,” he says again, just to see that smile one more time before letting Jensen reluctantly go and straightening up. “I’m comin’!” he shouts at Steve and gives Jensen a grin before crossing the floor and jumping up on stage, guitar in hand. “Can’t a fella get some sugar without y’all moanin’ about it?” he says into the mic and gets a wave of raucous laughter in return. “Evenin’, fellow queers, and ain’t it a fine one?”

The crowd whoops and cheers but it takes him a minute to realize why. Huh. Guess he just came out. In case the floor show didn’t already get the message across.

“Calm down. We here to play music or to gossip like old ladies?” He takes a swig from the bottle of Jack before handing it over to Steve with a grin. Steve just rolls his eyes and takes a swig himself before putting the bottle down, a little out of Chris’s reach, something he doesn’t usually do until the second half of the show. But he did say he was gonna make sure Chris didn’t drink too much and Steve is nothing if not a man of his words.

“Alright. Let’s roll!”

If this is how they usually play, no wonder the crowd loves them so much. It’s less country than Jensen expected, guess Chris wasn’t kidding about Steve not being so much into that, but Chris is so much country all on his own, in his worn jeans and scuffed cowboy boots and belt buckle the size of Texas, he might as well be singing Willie Nelson. All he’s missing is a cowboy hat and Jensen knows he’s got one upstairs, worn enough to prove it’s not just for show. Jensen might have tried it on one evening when he was bored. Might have looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what it’s like to pop one of those on his head and don’t feel like a poser. Born and raised in Texas and he looks as much cowboy as Chris looks gay. Queer. Whatever.

Jensen sips his Coke and sighs, staring up at the dynamic duo. It’s obvious they’ve been doing this for a long time, they play off each other like a married couple, joking and laughing and hanging off each other’s necks while stealing swigs of whiskey from the bottle that Steve keeps putting further and further away from Chris’s reach but somehow still ends up in his hand at regular intervals. Jensen can’t help the sting of jealousy every time Chris and Steve lean their heads together or laugh at inside jokes thrown between them. He knows it’s stupid but he wants to keep Chris to himself. Not forever but…

Did Steve have to come tonight? When they’ve finally gotten the all-clear and could do stuff? Even if the realization had made Jensen feel slightly faint and he’d had to excuse himself to have a small freakout in the bathroom. Feeling so stupid because he wanted to do all that stuff, he did, had been ready for it, before Chris told him he was possibly a living ticking time bomb of deadly diseases. It’s just…

That had been in the moment, the very horny, lust-filled moment, of which his upstairs brain took no part in whatsoever. But sitting in that doctor’s office, after days of thinking he might be dying, having been forced to talk about what had been done to him, while watching the growing fury in Chris’s eyes and deepening discomfort in the doctor’s - with them being gay, Jensen suspected, more than the sexual abuse, judging by the way he kept eyeing their clasped hands -suddenly the thought of Chris doing those things to him had made him a little sick in his stomach. Not that it’s comparable but still, same mechanism, right? He can’t help worrying that it will hurt like it’s always hurt, that he will just feel scared and degraded and-

A shadow suddenly settles over him and he jumps, startled. There’s a tall, beautiful woman looking down at him, face serious enough that Jensen sits back a little.

“Hey, honey,” she says in a husky voice. “Just wanted to tell you, you were amazing. We’re all still talking about it. And I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“I’m alright,” he says hesitantly.

She inclines her head toward Chris, smiling wickedly. “Never thought I’d see that grumpy man hitch himself a sweetheart. And the cutest of them all, at that. Whoo!”

Jensen blushes, not knowing how to respond.

“Listen,” she says, suddenly serious again. “We’ve been thinking we should have a talk with your strong and handsome about the state of things. Been too many of us had a run in with that gang.” She bites her lip, smearing lipstick on her teeth in her distress. “You’re lucky if all they did was beat you.” She must see something in his startled face because there’s a flash of fury in her eyes before they settle on genuine sadness. “Oh honey.”

He swallows, his throat so dry, he chokes on his own breath. “No. There wasn’t… no.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Ain’t no one gonna judge you. We’ve all been there. More or less. We all know the dangers that lurk out there.” She leans in, eyes kind and solemn. “I’ve been where you are. You ever want to talk-”

“No.” He shuffles further in on the bench. He can’t look at her. “Please, go.” Shit, why is the air so damn dry? His throat is closing up, strangling him. “Please,” he forces out.

“What’s going on?”

Chris’s eyes are burning with fury, his hair is curly with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. The guitar is still slung over his shoulder. He looks ready to kill. Shit. Up on stage the band keeps playing, with Steve singing solo, while shooting them anxious glances. From what it looks like, Chris leapt straight down from the stage to storm over.

“It’s okay,” Jensen says quickly, even if his breath is still stuck in his throat. “We were just talking.”

The lady takes a step back, looking down at Chris who is at least six inches shorter. Jensen is suddenly reminded of their talk about tall women, and he stares up at her, noticing the very prominent Adam’s apple. But… she looks real.

“Uh, he wants to talk to you,” he tells Chris whose furious glare suddenly snaps to him.

“She,” he hisses before looking up at the woman? Man? Jensen is so confused. “Sorry ‘bout him, ma’am. He’s new. He’s got a lot to learn still.”

Jensen flushes hot with shame, even worse when she looks at him and there’s real hurt there although she’s shaking her head and smiling like it doesn’t matter. “That’s alright. I’m used to it.”

“That don’t make it any better. Jensen, apologize.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says quickly, stinging from the use of his name. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I… I just don’t know how this works.”

“Oh, honey.” She pats his cheek and gives him a smile. “Just don’t be an asshole and we’ll be fine.” She turns to Chris, face serious. “A few of us would like to have a word with you after the show. About those attacks that have been happening.”

He nods. “Alright. I’ll try not to get too drunk.”

She laughs and Chris grins up at her, all smooth sexy charm, like she’s just any other woman. And it hits Jensen that she is. She is a lady and he just insulted her. His mother would be horrified.

He must look wretched because Chris sighs and leans over to kiss him as soon as she’s gone. “It’s alright, darlin’. We’ll get you educated soon enough. Just… be polite and don’t be callin’ anyone names.”

“I should go,” Jensen mumbles.

“No. No, sweetheart. Stay. We’ll be takin’ a break soon. Stay.”

Jensen relents, even if he feels like everyone is looking at him. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, he was just… surprised. She’d looked so normal, especially compared to some-

He drops his gaze to the table, cheeks burning, as he realizes what he’s doing. He’s been silently judging so many of them for being different. Like they’re not real people with real feelings. It’s a grim wakeup call. Seems he is his father’s son after all. His stomach churns. He’s never felt so ashamed in his life. If the floor swallowed him right now, he wouldn’t even try to crawl out.

He sits still, backed into the shadows, while Chris and Steve play two more songs before announcing they’re taking a break. Chris waves at Matt as they jump off the stage and they’re not even at the table when Danneel appears with a couple of beers and another Coke for Jensen. The bottle of Jack in Chris’s hand is already half empty. He slides into the booth until he’s pressed up against Jensen’s side and slings an arm around him, pulling him even closer. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Chris gazes at him, those piercing blue eyes going soft. “Alright, darlin’,” he says before kissing him on the ear, whispering, “Don’t worry, she ain’t mad. You still got a loyal fan.”

Jensen cringes. Now he feels even worse. “Don’t care about that. I hurt her feelings,” he whispers. “I feel awful.”

Chris nods. “I know. Think I always said the right thing when I first got into this business? With my fuckin’ mouth? I was lucky I only got slapped once.” He juts out his lower lip, rubbing his chin. “She’d a right hook on her too. Muscles like a miner.” He frowns. “Might have been one.”

“What happened?”

“Happened? Nothin’. I apologized. I educated myself. And I got better.” He squeezes Jensen tight. “Be better. That’s all you gotta do. Be better and be kind. Just ‘cause some don’t look like the girls back home don’t make’em any less women. Just like it don’t make’em any less men who still got a rack.” At Jensen’s despairing look Chris pats his arm and says, “When in doubt, just ask, ‘What should I call you?’. It’s alright.”

“They won’t get mad?”

“Nah. Long as you’re not an asshole. Rule number one.” Chris points to the bar rules he’d asked Jensen to honor, his very first day.

“Okay.” He still figures he’s better off just keeping his stupid mouth shut.

“How you enjoyin’ yourself so far?” Chris asks, elbowing him gently. “We sound alright?”

“Sound better than alright,” Jensen says, grateful for the change in subject. “Look pretty good, too.”

“Yeah? Me or Steve?” Chris asks with a grin, then pulls Jensen in for a growly kiss when he deadpans, “Oh, Steve, definitely.”

Jensen laughs into his mouth, for a while forgetting all about his troubles. Chris tastes like whiskey, his lips softening as the kiss lingers, his growl turning into a low happy sound that makes Jensen’s stomach swoop.

Steve clears his throat and Chris waves him impatiently off but after a second loud reminder he pulls away with a sigh. “Sorry, sweetheart. We need to get back up there. You wanna join us for a song or two?”

Jensen glances at Steve, who is trying but failing miserably at not looking annoyed. “Maybe some other night,” he says. “Think I just wanna sit and listen.”

“Alright, darlin’.” Chris kisses him again, all soft and sweet. “You don’t have to sit here all night though. You can walk around, get to know people. Just no drinkin’,” he says, giving him a stern look. “No matter how nice they’re bein’. You never know. And you’re still underage.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He’s not planning to move at all, except maybe to slink upstairs because he still feels stupid and ashamed and that lady keeps looking over at him, and what if she’s telling everyone what he said? “I’ll be fine,” he adds when Chris keeps gazing at him in concern. “Go, before Steve finishes off your whiskey.”

The scowl is instant. “The fuck he will!” Chris swirls around and stalks toward the stage, waving his fist. “Steve, you motherfucker, lay off my Jack.” He gives Jensen a wink over his shoulder, then jumps up on stage and grabs Steve in a head hold, stealing the bottle before kissing Steve noisily on the cheek.

“Just doing my part in keeping you from passing out piss drunk before you can take your pretty boy to bed,” Steve says dryly and the crowd laughs as Chris’s face turns bright red.

Jensen sinks into his seat. Fuck. Chris looks over at him. A soft smile takes over his face, his eyes crinkle, and there’s so much love there, Jensen’s heart stutters. “I ain’t never gonna be that drunk, man,” Chris says, patting Steve on the back. “Now lay off the jealousy and let’s play some music.”

Steve presses his lips together but then he shakes his head and shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for feeling neglected.”

There’s a wave of “Aaww,” from the audience as Chris pulls Steve in and embraces him, holding him long enough that Jensen starts to fidget. When they break apart they’re both smiling and Steve looks a lot happier.

Jensen is itching to know what was said. Looking at them, he can’t help feeling like an outsider. This is all new to him and he feels unsure about everything. Even Chris. Especially Chris, despite having been given no reason to. It’s just… Chris and Steve have been friends for so long and fucking each other for most of that time, it sounds like. It’s just weird, watching the man he’s in love with, who says he loves him, being so close to an ex.

Then again, with this being the only queer bar in town, that probably happens a lot in here. Running into your ex with someone else. Where else are they gonna go?

He’s so deep in thought he doesn’t even notice her until she’s sliding into the booth, right next to him. He jerks back, fists up, before he realizes who it is, and she backs away instantly. “Hey, no, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He blinks rapidly. “You just startled me, is all,” he chokes out.

“Well, I don’t blame you for being jumpy,” she says, eyes kind and understanding. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m Lorna.”

She offers her hand, big and strong with bright pink fingernails, and he kisses the back of it dutifully, just like his mama taught him.

“Well, ain’t you a proper gentleman.” She laughs, looking delighted, before turning serious again. “I was just watching you over here, all by your lonesome, looking kinda down, and wanted to ask if you’d like to come over. Get to know a few people. We don’t bite,” she says then winks. “Unless you’re into that kinda thing.”

He swallows. “Uhm. I don’t know. What if… what if I say something wrong again?”

Her smile turns soft. “Honey, that’s what you’ve been worrying about?”

“I hurt your feelings,” he says, dropping his gaze. “I don’t wanna do that again. To anyone.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings, sweetie,” she says gently. “You just poked a few bad memories. It happens. There are so many of them, they’re hard to avoid. But I don’t blame you, I blame the ones that caused them. So come on, let me introduce you to some friends of mine. I’ll make sure to tell you who’s what, then all you gotta do is remember, and don’t be an asshole.”

“Rule number one,” Jensen says, risking a small smile.

She smiles back. “Exactly. What do you say?”

She holds out her hand and he only hesitates a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull him out of the booth. He glances up at Chris as she leads the way across the room and is relieved to see him smile, making a shoo motion, like go ahead, have fun. So he does.

“I told you no drinkin’!” Chris growls, prying Jensen’s eyes open. Fuck, his pupils are swimming.

“I didn’t!” Jensen giggles. “We just had a few smokes. Outside.” He waves flamboyantly at the back door.

Chris groans. He’d noticed, he’d just thought they’d gone out to smoke, you know, tobacco! Didn’t really like Jensen disappearing from his sight but he’d trusted the ladies to not let anything happen to the kid. Except this, apparently!

He pretends he can’t hear Steve laughing behind them and pulls Jensen to his feet. “Thanks, ladies,” he deadpans, and they do have the decency to look slightly chagrined. “Our meetin’s gonna have to wait.”

“Sure. And I’m sorry, honey. Well, no, I’m not,” Lorna says. “He was feeling all strung up, poor thing, and look! He’s happy now. Aren’t you, honey?”

Jensen smiles, his eyelids drooping. “Yeah.”

She smiles, patting his hand. “Night, sweetie.”

“Night, mama.” Jensen mumbles, eyes closing. “’M sorry I ran off and left you with Dad.” He sighs and Chris only just manages to wrap his arms tight around him before Jensen goes slack in his arms. Great.

Lorna puts a hand to her chest, tears glittering in her eyes. “Oh, you sweet thing.” She looks up at Chris, fixing him with a stern stare. “You better take care of that boy, mister, or I’m gonna slap your other cheek!”

“Thought I recognized you,” Chris mutters. He gestures at Steve who steps up and slips one of Jensen’s arms over his shoulders, balancing him between the two of them. “Don’t you worry,” Chris assures her. He kisses Jensen on the cheek, smiling when he just mumbles incoherently. “Figure I’m too far gone to hurt his heart without breakin’ my own.”

They drag Jensen upstairs and deposit him on his bed, dead to the world. Chris tugs off his sneakers but waits until Steve has backed out of the room before pulling off Jensen’s jeans.

“This how it’s gonna be?” he chastises as he tucks Jensen in. “You passed out from drinkin’ or smokin’ every other night? You’re gonna be the death of me, son.” Jensen doesn’t even stir. Chris sighs. “Not like I can say much. Was doin’ the same thing your age. That and worse. At least you got me to care for you.”

“Your uncle cared,” Steve says from the doorway. “In his way.”

Chris stops breathing. “My uncle beat my hide more often than not,” he hears himself say. He breathes in. Breathes out. “Didn’t really appreciate me whorin’ my way through his church.”

“Whoring?” Steve repeats, coming up to stand behind him. “Really? Is that what you were doing?”

“Everythin’ but the money,” Chris echoes. He blinks slowly. “That’s what he kept tellin’ me.”

“From what I remember you telling me,” Steve says softly, warm fingers sliding into Chris’s hair, “those women were a lot older than you. And you were a lot younger than you should have been.”

“Yeah, well.” The air feels heavy in his lungs. “Not gonna say no, was I?”

“Jesus,” Steve sighs. He sounds tired. “You’re so screwed up, you know that? Those women, they-” Steve’s fingers still, buried in Chris’s hair. “Just women, right?”

Chris shoots to his feet, twisting away from Steve’s touch. “I’ll lend you a pillow,” he mutters and stalks into the bedroom.

“Hey!” Steve hurries after him and grabs him by the wrist. “Chris, talk to me, man.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Chris growls. “Now, you want that pillow or not?”

Steve gazes at him. Chris can feel his chest seize up, but he tells himself to calm the fuck down and just continue breathing. Eventually Steve lets go off his wrist and steps back.

“Thanks,” he says and accepts the pillow from Chris’s hand. He looks over at the bed and Chris can tell he wants to ask to be allowed to stay. Even if he wasn’t having a silent freakout, there’s no way Chris is doing that. He promised Jensen.

As he lies under the covers, listening to Steve toss and turn on the couch and Jensen snore in the other room, heaviness descends on him like a thick blanket. It had been something they used to laugh about, him and Steve, when they were high on weed or drunk stupid. His old conquests. Emphasis on ‘old’. Old enough to be his mother. At least. Which he supposes was the whole point in them pursuing him, and him letting them. Now, thinking of Jensen - eighteen and still so damn young, so damn innocent despite everything - Chris feels sick to his stomach, acknowledging he was himself a kid at the time. And they were adults. And he never should have been the one punished for it.

Chris wakes up feeling strangely heavy. Like there’s lead in his bones, in his veins. Even the air in his lungs feels dense, like fog. It takes him a long time just to be able to open his eyes. He finally drags himself out of bed after telling himself that no, he can’t just stay put all day. Steve is still buried under the blanket on the couch, but he’ll wake up soon enough and then he and Jensen will both be wanting breakfast. Even if the thought of food makes Chris want to hurl.

He shuffles into the bathroom, eyes staring blindly at the wall as he empties his bladder. He feels gritty and gross, his hair is a greasy mess after last night’s sweaty performance, but he just can’t muster up the energy for a shower. He turns on the tap instead and runs a wet palm over his face then just leans on the sink, head hanging between his shoulders, and breathes for a long time before looking up to face himself in the mirror. Then looks away again, unable to hold his own gaze for more than a second.

He eyes the medicine cabinet because all of this feels familiar and he knows, he knows that he’s heading for trouble. But he also knows what the pills do to him and the thought of kissing Jensen and not feeling the wonder and joy it should give him is devastating. He’d rather feel a little down, a little worthless, a little unsure of life being worth it in general, than loose that. For all he knows this might just be passing. Just a little Saturday blues.

He's pouring himself some much-needed coffee when arms wrap around him from behind and he’s just tired enough to tilt his head back before he realizes he’s got it wrong and by then Steve is kissing him, soft and warm and tasting of sleep. He jerks away, quickly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Shit.

“The hell, man?” He glances nervously at Jensen’s door which is thankfully still closed.

Steve steps back, a look of hurt in his eyes. “So, not even this?” he asks. “Eight years and suddenly that’s where we’re at?”

“Steve, we talked about this.” Chris rubs a hand over his face. Fuck, he can’t deal with this on top of all the other shit. “Look, I’m sorry. I love you, man, but I can’t. It’d break his heart.”

“Sure. Sure,” Steve says, face closed off. “Can’t have that.”

Chris sighs. “Steve…”

“I should go,” Steve says and turns away.

“Would you stop doin’ that, man?” God, he’s so goddamn tired of it all. “Would you stop runnin’ off all the time?”

Steve spins around, glaring at him. “Seriously? Fuck you, man!” He looks furious. Steve, who hardly ever even gets annoyed. “You’re the one who asked me over but all last night, you were wrapped up in that boy. Hardly said a word to me. I had to spend the break watching you two canoodling like teenagers. For fuck’s sake, Chris, we’re supposed to be friends!”

Chris deflates. Steve’s right. Usually they spend the breaks talking and laughing and shooting the shit between drinks. This time he’d been too busy with Jensen to give Steve even a glance. Chris rubs his face again. If he only weren’t so damn tired.

“’M sorry. I…” he starts but gives up. There’s not enough air in his lungs to explain.

“Literally turned your back on me,” Steve mutters.

He supposes he did. “Sorry,” he repeats. Words seem suddenly too complex, it’s a struggle to move them from his brain to his mouth. “An’ I’m sorry ‘bout… us. Never meant to hurt ya.”

“Jesus. You sound like a bad country song.” Steve sighs. “And you look like hell. For Christ’s sake, man, go take a shower. I’ll fix us breakfast.”

Chris runs trembling fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

Steve frowns. “Hey, you alright?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t sound it,” Steve says, eyes narrowing. “Did you call your therapist yesterday?”

He thinks about lying but what’s the point? “I’m gonna. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“I do worry about it. Chris, look at me.” Steve palms Chris’s cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. Frowns when Chris’s gaze slides away. “Hey, look at me. What’s happening?” He steps closer, his thumb stroking Chris’s cheek. “Is this because of what we talked about last night?”

“Will you… Stop.” Chris jerks back, batting his hand away. “’M fine. Tired, is all. Jus’… leave me alone.”

He ignores Steve’s worried look and makes his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sits down on the toilet and stares at the shower. He’s only wearing boxers and a t-shirt but somehow it feels insurmountable to strip them off, turn on the water, step in the shower, wash his hair, his body, and then have to dry off and get dressed again. The thought alone is enough to make him feel a thousand pounds heavier. Like he’d need a crane to heave himself to his feet. He blinks slowly. He’s just so damn tired.

He probably should have taken the antidepressants.

It doesn’t normally hit him this fast. Typically, it happens so gradually he doesn’t realize what is happening until suddenly it’s been two weeks and he hasn’t changed his clothes, hasn’t showered, hasn’t thought of anything, done anything, but work and sleep and drink and by then it takes him weeks to crawl back out of the hole. A crash like this hasn’t happened since…

Since his uncle died.

Oh.

Trigger, that’s what his therapist called it, when Steve finally called her for him and put her on speaker and forced him to listen to her even if he didn’t have the energy to say much back. Like someone flipped a switch, bringing all the shit he’d buried deep in the darkest corner of his fucked-up mind right into the spotlight.

It checks. Steve bringing his uncle up last night. Must have triggered something. Made him think about… Chris squeezes his eyes shut. He shakes his head. Stop. Fuck.

He needs to take his meds.

He’s just gonna sit here for a little while first. Gather his strength. He’s just so fucking tired.

“Chris? Can I come in? Chris? Is it alright if I come in? Hey.”

A warm hand palms his cheek and he opens his eyes. Jensen is smiling down at him, a worried look in his beautiful eyes. Chris smiles back, or at least he thinks he does, except Jensen just looks more worried.

“Hey,” Jensen repeats, voice soft. “Good thing you never lock the door.”

Hmm? Oh. He lives alone, or he did for so long, he got out of the habit. Has to remind himself to even close it now Jensen’s living here.

“Steve says you might be feeling a bit down. He says you need to take your meds. Have you?”

Chris frowns. Did he? No, he was going to take a shower first. He shakes his head.

“Alright, I’ll find them for you. Wait here.”

Jensen disappears and Chris hears a murmured conversation before Jensen reappears with a tall glass of water. Chris watches him in silence open the medicine cabinet, rummage around until he finds the right bottle, then shake a pill out into his hand.

“Did you take your anger pills? Sorry, I don’t know what to call them, I can’t pronounce Pre… Pre… ugh, you know what I mean.”

Anger pills is as good a name as any. Chris shakes his head.

“Alright, let’s take one of those, then. Antianxiety pills? That’s what these are, right? I don’t know, are you taking them too?”

Chris closes his eyes.

“Hey. Chris, I need you to take these for me. Can you do that?”

He opens his eyes. Jensen is gazing down at him, smiling. He looks like an angel with the bathroom light burning like a halo behind his head. So beautiful.

“Beautiful.” Chris’s voice sounds rusty. Head feels like it too. Full of rusty nails and scrap metal.

Jensen’s smile widens and he laughs. It sounds a little broken. “Good to know you’re still in there.”

Chris frowns. Huh?

“Can you take these pills for me?”

Jensen takes Chris’s hand between his very warm ones, turns it palm up and puts a couple of pills there. Chris instinctively starts to curl his fingers but Jensen pries them gently open again.

“No, you need to take them. Here.”

A cold glass is put into his other hand and he frowns, missing the warmth of Jensen’s fingers. He looks down at the pills in one hand and the glass of water in the other and it still takes him a moment to figure out what he’s supposed to do with them. He swallows the pills, one at a time, gulping down water after each one. It feels good. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty.

“Good. That’s great. You want to come lay down?”

Sure. He can do that. He stands up and is surprised by how much his body aches, enough that he stumbles and would have fallen if Jensen hadn’t been right there, ready to catch him.

“It’s alright. You’re just stiff from sitting so long.”

Huh? Didn’t he just sit down a minute ago? Confused he shuffles to the bed and lies down. Closes his eyes.

“No, under the covers. You’re cold, we need to heat you up. Chris? Okay, I’ll go get the blanket.”

Warmth settles over him. He sleeps.

Chris opens his eyes and Jensen is asleep beside him, huddled under the blanket. It takes him a moment to remember and when he does, he wants to close his eyes and just continue sleeping. He feels empty, like he can’t quite remember who he is supposed to be. His thoughts are slow, his emotions… not there. Not really. He looks at Jensen and he knows he loves him, but that overwhelming, almost painful feeling of love he remembers is missing.

He must have made a distressed sound because Jensen jerks awake, blinking those long eyelashes that he seems to hate and Chris loves so much.

“Hey, you’re up. How are you feeling?” Jensen asks, voice slow with sleep. His breath smells of coffee and pancakes so Steve must have kept his word and made breakfast.

“Alright,” Chris lies.

Jensen smiles. “That’s good.” His hand slips out from under the blanket and brushes Chris’s hair behind his ear. “I didn’t know you got like this.”

Chris flushes warm. “Sorry.” He seeks out Jensen’s t-shirt under the blanket, sliding his hand underneath to feel the warmth of Jensen’s skin against his palm. Jensen snuggles closer, feet entangling. “Didn’ mean to scare ya.”

“Not scared, just worried. It was like you shut down.” Jensen worries at his lip with his teeth and Chris wants to kiss the small dents they leave in the soft flesh. “I thought you were taking antidepressants. I mean regularly.”

Chris sighs. “I ain’t that good at takin’em. Don’t like how they make me feel.”

“Like now?”

“Mhmm,” he agrees but doesn’t have the words to elaborate further. “’M sorry, darlin’. I’ll be better.”

“I just want you to feel better,” Jensen says.

He sounds anxious and his lips are tugging down so Chris leans forward and kisses him, remembering too late that he never brushed his teeth. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind, he kisses him back easily enough. His fingers tug at Chris’s hair. Chris thinks of the grease staining Jensen’s delicate fingers, smearing into his soft skin, and he pulls away, grimacing at how sweaty and disgusting he feels. Filthy.

“What’s wrong? Chris, look at me.”

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly. The air feels thick, in his nose, his throat, his lungs. Weighing him down. “Nothin’. Jus’…” Jensen strokes his hair and Chris scrunches up his nose.

“You want to take a shower?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Now?”

He closes his eyes.

“Chris, hey.” Soft lips kiss the tip of his nose. “You with me?”

Yes. No, not really.

“We don’t have to take a shower now. You want to sleep more first?”

“Mmm.”

“Alright. A little while longer.”

Jensen slips out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He’s surprised to find Steve still there, sitting on the couch reading one of the novels from Chris’s bookcase. From Jensen’s room. Jensen opens his mouth, then decides it’s not worth starting another argument over. “Didn’t know you were still here,” he says instead.

Steve looks up, startled, like he’d been too engrossed, or possibly too lost in thought to hear him approach. “He’s my best friend, kid. You think I’d just leave him like that?”

“No, of course not. Sorry.” Jensen goes and pours himself some coffee. It’s steaming hot so Steve must have made a fresh batch. “He woke up for a moment but then he fell asleep again.” Steve nods but doesn’t comment, just resumes reading. “I didn’t know he got like that,” Jensen repeats since he never got a decent answer out of Chris and he wants to know.

“You don’t really know him at all, kid,” Steve says but for once it sounds more tired than disdainful. “It doesn’t usually happen like that. And he’s supposed to be taking meds for it.”

“He hates the meds,” Jensen says even if he doesn’t quite understand why. Aren’t they supposed to make him feel better?

“I know, but he doesn’t exactly make it easy on himself. He needs to take them every day, not when he’s already fallen down the rabbit hole. He keeps kickstarting the side effects. And with all the drinking and not eating enough…” Steve sighs. “I love him but he’s a dumbass, okay?”

“Yeah.”

They share a smile and Jensen is just starting to think maybe they can find a common ground after all when Steve adds, “You being here doesn’t help.”

Jensen’s smile drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve shrugs. “You tell me, kid,” he says, eyes back on the book. “He’s been fine and suddenly here you are and he’s having rage attacks and depressive episodes again. Not exactly hard to do the math.”

“Well, you’re clearly shit at math,” Jensen snaps even if Steve’s not saying anything he hasn’t thought himself. “Maybe, before I came along, his life was fucking boring and he had nothing to get upset about because he didn’t fucking care about anything? Maybe that’s why he’s a little fucked up right now because he actually loves me, and he’s never felt that way before? And maybe that’s why you’re being such an asshole, because you’re jealous he never felt that way with you!”

Steve glares at him, face like thunder. He throws the book down and stands up. “You’re a little punk, you know that?”

Jensen instantly backs away, but he just can’t keep his mouth shut. “I’m a punk? You’ve been a jerk to me from day one! I never did anything to you!”

Before he has time to run, Steve is in his face, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and slamming him up against the wall. Shit!

“Fuck you! You come in here with your pretty face and your pretty little mouth and your fucking doe eyes and he runs after you, like the fucking horndog he is. You think this is love? Huh? You think this is forever?” Steve scoffs. “Some girl winks at him, some guy with a nice ass comes along, he’s gonna forget all about love, all about how special you made him feel.”

Steve’s breath blows hot and heavy in Jensen’s face, his eyes flickering to Jensen’s mouth and back to his eyes, pupils wide and dark. They’re pressed so close the heat radiating off Steve is like a furnace against Jensen’s body. Jensen’s own breath is coming short and fast. He can’t move, he can’t look away, it’s like his blood is frozen in his veins, turning his limbs to stone.

“Look at you! Just because you’re so damn pretty, because you’re so fucking beautiful, you think you’re something special? You’re just, just- Fuck!” Steve yanks him forward and kisses him, hard enough that their teeth click.

Jensen SCREAMS into Steve’s mouth, his fists flailing, pounding, pushing at Steve’s chest, fighting to get him off, off, OFF!

Steve jerks back, shocked. There’s blood on his lip. “Shit! I didn’t mean to…” Jensen draws in a sharp breath and Steve slams his hand over his mouth. “No! Please! Don’t! I’m sorry! Jensen, please!”

Jensen’s eyes go wide with terror. His head is locked in a vice between Steve’s strong hands, one gripping the back of his neck, the other covering his mouth, his nose! Steve is staring at him, frantic. His body shifts, just a little. Just enough that Jensen feels him, hard and warm, pressing against his thigh. Steve’s pupils explode in his eyes as his lips part on a sharp inhale.

Jensen closes his eyes. Tears well over at the corners as a muffled sob jerks his body. No! Please.

Steve lets him abruptly go with a hissed curse, jumping back with his hands held up, palms facing forward. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Please, don’t scream. He’ll fucking kill me!”

Jensen frantically sucks in air through his nose, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. He feels faint, like his legs might give out any second. Steve reaches for him, eyes still pleading, but Jensen twists away and stumbles to his room. He falls back against the door as it shuts behind him and sinks to the floor, arms around his knees. He’s shaking so hard his teeth rattle in his mouth. He thought- He thought Steve was gonna-

Continued here.