Fic: Haven. RPS. Chris/Jensen. NC-17. Chapter 5/11

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.



Jensen jumps up from the couch when Chris bangs the door open, face creasing but smoothing out just as quickly although his breath is quick and shallow as he tries to hide the pain from moving too fast. He doesn’t look scared though, just startled and when Chris moves toward him, he doesn’t back away, just scowls, obviously still pissed off from earlier. “What?”

“No. This ain’t…” Chris waves off, then runs his palm carefully down Jensen’s arm, before daring to touch his back.

Jensen winces but he doesn’t move away, just stares at him, clearly confused by the sudden change in mood. “What are you doing?” he asks, grimacing when Chris touches a tender spot.

“You are hurt,” Chris breathes, his heart sinking. He did this. “Shit, darlin’. I hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jensen just frowns. “It’s nothing. It’s just ‘cause I was hurt already. It’s not your fault.”

“Like hell it ain’t! I thought it was just the beatin’, that you were hurt worse than it looked at first, but it was me. That’s why you’re still feelin’ so bad. ‘Cause I yanked your arm and hurt your back.” Chris sinks down on the sofa table, head in his hands. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t mean to,” Jensen says, sounding confused, like Chris is being ridiculous, making such a big deal out of it. “It was just an accident.”

Chris raises his head, staring at him. Is this kid for real? “I attacked you!”

“You weren’t yourself,” Jensen dismisses. “If you’d been, you’d never have hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Of course, I know. I know,” Jensen says, voice flat. “When people wanna hurt me, they make damn sure every fucking hit counts. They’d gladly kill me if they thought they could get away with it. That’s not you.”

Chris stares at him. The anger starts simmering in his stomach and he fights to shove it down. “Who? Your bullies?”

Jensen shrugs. “And my dad. My grandpa. My brother.” Chris’s fury grows with every added word but just when he thinks he’s getting it under control, Jensen swallows and adds, “The guy who raped me when I was thirteen. His dad when he walked in on us. Others. Those assholes who beat me after… after they made me suck them off.”

The world turns hazy. Chris stumbles to his feet and rushes to the bathroom, slamming open the medicine cabinet. His hands are shaking so badly he shoves half the bottles off the shelf, and they fall into the sink with a clatter before he finally gets a hold of the right one. He’s fighting with the stupid safety lock, his vision already blurring, when Jensen takes the bottle from his hands and opens it for him.

“How many?” Jensen says, the tremor in his voice betraying his calm.

Chris holds up a finger, then changes it to two, too busy fighting for air to talk. He hasn’t been drinking and this is the second time in just a few minutes he’s been heading for disaster. One probably won’t cut it.

Jensen shakes out two pills, sweeps the sink clean of bottles and shoves them aside on the counter before running the water. “I’ll get you a glass,” he says but Chris shakes his head and motions for the pills - now! - swallowing them through the tight fist of his throat before drinking straight from the tap to ease their way down.

His heart is hammering in his chest, hard enough to hurt. He has to calm down, has to get his breathing under control or it might end like last time, with him passing out, or possibly having a heart attack like his dear old dad. He sinks down on the floor, back against the wall, hands on the back of his head, pressing his forehead down on his knees. He feels like a volcano about to erupt, the bubbling lava rumbling in his chest. He wants to tell Jensen to run, to get to safety because if he hurts him again - and this time it could be so much worse - he’ll never be able to live with himself. But he can’t speak, can’t even open his mouth in fear he’ll just start screaming.

Through the whoosh-whoosh of blood rushing in his ears he can hear Jensen telling him to breathe, telling him to look at him, telling him it’s all going to be alright, and Chris wants to say he’s trying but it won’t, it’s not alright and it never will be and God, he’s just like him. He’s his old man. He’s his bastard of a father and he’s going to do something terrible, just like he did. He knew this was gonna happen, he knew it! His mama always said he was so like his dad. She meant he got his dad’s eyes but Chris knew she wondered if he’d turn out a monster, just like his old man, a killer like him, and he did, he is and oh god, he should just end it all before he-

“Stop it! Stop! Shut up! Stop talking!”

He lifts his head, blinking his eyes open. Jensen is glaring at him, looking angry and scared, and Chris hates himself so fucking much.

“Don’t you say that! You’re not a monster! And the fuck are you a killer! What the hell is wrong with you?” Jensen yells, his voice breaking on the last word. “Why are you saying all those things?”

“You should run,” Chris whispers. “I’m not safe. ‘I’m… Fuck!” He grinds his fists into his eye sockets in a futile attempt to blacken out the images that keep attacking his brain. Jensen crying, Jensen screaming, Jensen on his knees…

Jensen’s pulling at Chris’s wrists, fighting to get his fists away from his eyes. “Please, stop. Please. Chris, look at me. Look at me!”

Jensen’s small body, bruised and bloody and no one caring. Jensen barely a teen, still a child, being held down while, while… And those men, those bastards from the other night, forcing him to-

“I’mma kill’em! I’mma fuckin’ kill’em!” Chris roars, starting to get up but Jensen throws his arms around him and drags him down again, holding him with all his weight.

“Please! Stop! Chris! Stop! Please, stop! Please!”

He fights to get up, elbows and knees, hands grappling for hold, feet kicking, back bucking. And then, all of a sudden, he’s done, the rage draining out of him as the drug finally kicks in. It’s like all his strings have been cut and he collapses on the floor, gasping for breath, with Jensen in his lap, panting and shaking. They lie there for a long time, Chris stroking Jensen’s hair with a shaky hand, murmuring, “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry,” as his heartbeat slowly quiets down to normal. The empty is taking over in his head, like a grey fog shutting down his thoughts, his feelings, one after another. The calm is paralyzing, the blood almost sluggish in his veins. His eyes start drooping.

He wakes up to Jensen shaking him, asking him to please get up. “You’re cold. Please, Chris. You’ll get sick.”

He lets himself be manhandled up from the floor and out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, down on the bed. He doesn’t feel the cold, doesn’t feel much of anything, but he lets Jensen fuss, pulling his boots off and dragging the covers over him. “Sleep,” he says, so Chris closes his eyes and does.

Jensen stands gazing down at Chris’s sleeping form for a long time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. He should probably go down, let Matt know Chris is out for the count, at least for a few hours, maybe the whole night. He just doesn’t feel ready to face anyone yet. He can’t stop trembling.

He’s never told anyone before. About any of it. There was never anyone to listen anyway. But now… Now there is. Except the person listening is a fucking homicidal rage machine and Jensen just pumped him full of extra fuel.

Jensen knows he should be terrified of Chris but he’s not. He’s scared for Chris. Scared he’ll do something he can’t come back from. Sure, Jensen would love to find those guys and watch Chris kick the shit out of them. Find fucking Chet and his dad and put the fear of Chris in them. Face his dad. His brother. But if the price is Chris ending up in jail for assault, or even worse, Jensen will rather let them get away with everything. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.

He curls up on the couch, pulling the blanket all the way up to his chin. His whole body aches. He feels drained and wrecked with guilt. This is his fault. He never should have said anything. And now it’s out, there’s no way to take it back, no way to hide again. He doesn’t expect Chris to let it go. He was mad enough about the beating, now he knows what really happened…

What if he goes after them and they hurt him? What if he hurts them? Kills them? And ends up in prison or, or…

Owner of a queer bar, they’d love that. They’d want to set an example. And in this state they don’t keep in prison what they can get rid of with a needle.

He should leave. All of this started when he got here. Sure, Chris got in fights before from what Jensen gathers, but Chris said it himself, it had been ages since he felt the need to take his meds because he was fine. He was grumpy and prickly and maybe quick to raise his fists, but he was fine. And now… Now he’s not. And it’s all Jensen’s fault.

Jensen looks around, at this place that was starting to feel like home. Like a safe home. And lying in there is the person who made it feel that way. The person Jensen is pretty sure he’s falling in love with. And who might even have some feelings for Jensen, too, if he just stopped being so damn stubborn and admitted the possibility. And out there…

Out there is danger and hatred and violence and the thought of leaving, of being alone again in that world is enough to make Jensen choke up. But if he stays… If he stays, chances are he’ll be responsible for Chris turning into his own worst nightmare. And God, Jensen owes him too much, cares about him too much, to do that to him.

He pulls off the blanket and stumbles to his feet. Without the adrenaline pumping through his veins he can feel every hurt, every burning muscle, every bruised patch of skin. He’d been lucky Chris hadn’t hit him but just holding that powerful body down was enough to add bruises everywhere. He’s still surprised he managed to keep Chris down long enough for the meds to kick in. He’s sure it was only because, despite his rage, Chris was trying his best not to hurt him. Although, to be honest, much longer and Jensen would have lost the battle. He was drenched with sweat by the time Chris finally calmed down, sweat that is now making his skin clammy and his damp clothes chafe the tender parts of his skin. Maybe he should take a shower before he leaves.

He emerges from the bathroom, wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist, only to be brough to an abrupt halt by the sight of Matt, hovering awkwardly in the living room. Matt looks up and there’s that glint again. The one that says he likes what he’s looking at and he wouldn’t mind seeing more.

“Hey.” Matt steps closer but pauses when Jensen automatically takes a step back. “I just wanted to check on you. And Chris. Are you…?” He frowns and Jensen follows his gaze to the fresh bruises adorning his arms and chest. Matt’s face darkens, lips thinning into an angry line. “Did he-!”

“No!” Jensen wraps his arms around himself. Even now Matt can’t seem to stop his eyes roaming. “I’m fine. And he’s fine, he’s just resting.”

“Resting.” Matt scowls. “Did he go batshit again? Are those from that?”

“I think you should leave.” Jensen’s eyes dart anxiously to Chris’s door. If he wakes up, if they start fighting, who knows what will happen?

“You don’t have to stay here,” Matt says quickly, taking another step toward him. “If he’s hurting you-”

“Can you please leave?” Jensen backs further away, breath quickening, and Matt frowns.

“Hey, easy. I’m not gonna hurt you. I don’t hit people.” He steps closer and Jensen fumbles with one hand for the towel as it starts to slip. “Hey, no. I’m just- Stop, okay? I’m not gonna hit you!”

“I’m not scared you’re gonna hit me!” Jensen hisses through clenched teeth. The towel slips lower and he panics, grabbing it and pulling it tighter around him as he takes another step back. He can feel every inch of his exposed skin, like it’s glowing. Matt’s pupils grow bigger, darker, as his eyes automatically drop down to below Jensen’s waist. The instant fear is paralyzing. “Please, please leave,” Jensen whispers, his voice breaking. “Please.”

Matt freezes. A look of realization, followed by horror, ripples his face. He backs away quickly, hands held up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna… Shit.”

“Please, please leave,” Jensen repeats, unable to look at him. “Please. I’m fine. We’re fine. Please go.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I was just worried.” Matt backs all the way to the door, hands raised. He fumbles for the door handle behind his back then hesitates. “He almost attacked me earlier. He wanted us to call the cops on him, take him in before he did something. He said he wanted to kill me! He’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“He’s not dangerous to me,” Jensen says, forcing himself to look up. “I’m sorry he scared you, but he wasn’t himself. He’s sick but he’s going to get better.”

Matt huffs. “He tell you that?”

“I’m telling you.”

Matt opens his mouth but then just shakes his head. “We’re downstairs if you need us,” he says with a sigh before slipping out and closing the door behind him.

Jensen sucks in a shaky breath then hurries into his room to get dressed, before more people decide to drop by. The backpack sits ready on his bed, the clothes he meant to put on lie folded beside it. He only hesitates a moment before pulling sweats and a hoodie out of the bag instead, and returning the rest of the clothes to their shelf. He’s not going to run. If it’s his fault Chris has gone bad, then it’s his responsibility to put him right again.

Chris is still asleep when Jensen checks on him. There’s a crease between Chris’s eyebrows and his lips are slightly twisted. As Jensen watches, Chris mumbles something incoherent, his breath hitching. Without thinking Jensen crawls into bed and lies down beside him under the covers, sliding his hand carefully up Chris’s chest and settling it there. Chris breathes out softly, his face going slack. Jensen closes his eyes and counts the heartbeats, tapping steady underneath his palm.

He blinks awake to find Chris watching him, face inches from his own. Jensen smiles, which makes Chris look slightly confused, which only makes Jensen smile wider. “Hey. You feeling better?”

“Yeah.” The voice is hoarse, almost gravelly, and Chris clears his throat and wets his dry lips that for once are not set in a scowl. More like a hesitant half-smile. “Still…” He swallows, frowning. “Still groggy. Numb like.” His eyes seem dull, the blue eyes cloudy compared to their usual sparkle. “Empty.”

It hurts Jensen to see him like this. God, no wonder Chris hates the meds so much. “You can’t feel anything?” Jensen asks, his own feelings suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. He just wants that spark back, that glint in Chris’s eyes that makes Jensen’s stomach flip and the whole world seem so much less scary.

Chris shakes his head.

“Not even if I do this?” Jensen closes the few inches that separate them, kissing Chris softly on the lips. Chris makes a surprised sound and Jensen pulls back, cautiously hopeful. “Nothing?”

Chris blinks rapidly. “Maybe… maybe somethin’,” he rasps hesitantly.

Jensen grins. If anything, that makes Chris blink faster. “I can work with that. Again?”

Chris nods, dazed, and Jensen shuffles closer, sucking in his breath when Chris’s arm slips around his waist, pulling him in. This time the kiss lingers, Chris’s lips moving tentatively under his own but just when Jensen is about to pull back, Chris’s tongue sneaks out, licking along the seam of Jensen’s lips. He parts them without hesitation, heart beating like a jackrabbit in his chest. Chris runs his tongue over Jensen’s teeth before licking the inside of his mouth, slowly, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. Jensen reaches up to run his fingers through Chris’s hair. Even matted with sweat it feels soft. Chris shivers, a low moan slipping into Jensen’s mouth. He pulls Jensen even closer, and then they’re kissing for real, deep, hot, dirty kisses. Licking into each other’s mouths, sucking each other’s tongues, biting lips and clicking teeth. Jensen can feel Chris’s dick, hard against his thigh, which is just as well because his own is doing some serious poking and it would be horribly embarrassing if it was just him. But Chris is definitely feeling something, at least physically, even if Jensen won’t dare hope for more.

He's starting to feel dizzy when Chris suddenly pulls back, breathing heavily as he stares into Jensen’s eyes, pupils blown so wide there’s barely a rind of blue shining around them. “Darlin’,” he says, sounding awed. “You’re…” Jensen steels himself for the usual fawning but what comes out is, “…one fine kisser. I’mma need a minute to calm down or this is gonna turn real embarrassin’, real soon.”

Jensen breathes out a laugh. “Yeah?” He bites his lip then asks before he loses his nerve, “How are those feelings coming along?”

Chris’s flushed face turns soft. He palms Jensen’s cheek, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “They’re comin’ along just fine,” he says quietly.

Jensen smiles. “Yeah?”

“Been tryin’ to ignore’em but then every time I think I’ve got’em shoved away, you look at me and…” Chris breathes in deeply through his nose, shaking his head. “I’m no good for you, darlin’, you know that.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jensen tells him truthfully.

Chris sighs. “We both know that sadly ain’t sayin’ much. No,” he says when Jensen makes to protest. “Listen to me, love. This is a bad idea. I’m all fucked up. That ain’t what you need.”

“No, you listen to me,” Jensen says firmly. “I don’t care. We’re gonna get you better.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No. Dying of a heart attack before you’re forty is not an option. Going to jail for beating someone into a bloody pulp is not an option. Beating me, or anyone you care about? Not a fucking option! Okay?”

Chris smiles. “I ain’t arguin’ with that. I’ve no interest in any of those options.” He sighs. “I’m gonna go back on my meds. That’s what I gotta do.” He runs his fingers along Jensen’s ear. “Whatever it takes. I never wanna hurt you again.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Jensen insists.

“That don’t make the hurt any less,” Chris points out. “I can’t risk it. Not again.”

“Okay, but… You hate the meds,” Jensen says, voice low. “They make you feel all empty. You can’t think. You can’t feel. You said so.”

“I’d rather be empty than filled with homicidal rage.” Chris runs his hand lightly over Jensen’s back. “You were lucky I didn’t hurt you worse. I could have-” He looks away and Jensen is just glad he hasn’t spotted any of the new bruises. They’re not so bad, barely surface deep, and should fade soon enough, but still. “I almost attacked Matt earlier. Not our first fight but this time…” Chris swallows. “I think if I’d gotten my teeth bloody, that’d been it. I’d have killed him.”

“He told me,” Jensen says, waving away Chris’s questioning look for later. “But I don’t believe it. You would never do that.”

“Not on purpose. But that’s what this does, it makes me do things I’d never do in my right mind. And it’s so hard.” He swallows. “It’s so hard ‘cause it feels so good to give in. To just let go and let all that rage out so I can finally… finally breathe.” He closes his eyes. “I’m just so tired, darlin’. I’m just so damn tired.”

“That’s because you’ve been shouldering it all on your own, you idiot. I’m gonna help you.” Jensen smiles in encouragement when Chris blinks open eyes that don’t hold much hope. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should talk to your doctor, see if we can change your meds to something else.”

“Don’t think there’s anythin’ else, darlin’.” Chris sighs. “It’s what they’re meant to do, after all. Suppress all those damn emotions.”

“Only the bad ones. Not… good emotions.” Jensen kisses him softly. “We need to keep the good ones. Right?”

Chris licks his lips. “I’d like that. They’re nice emotions.” He kisses Jensen back. “And those are real nice lips. No, listen,” he says when Jensen squirms. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I know people been tellin’ you all those things about you, about how you look and what that means to them.”

He runs his fingertips over Jensen’s lips then up to his forehead, down over his eyes, his nose, his cheekbones, touches light as feathers. Blue eyes roaming each part in turn before settling on Jensen’s eyes again. Jensen draws in a shaky breath. He’s used to being stared at but this feels completely different.

“Whatever meanin’ they put in it,” Chris says quietly, “it had nothin’ to do with you. Just them, puttin’ their own thoughts out there like they were the truth. Like they define you.” Chris cups Jensen’s face. “You’re beautiful. You are, darlin’. I can’t pretend I don’t see it. But you’re not a thing. You’re not a doll or a paintin’. And I know you ain’t a girl.” He smiles. “Not that I’d mind if you were. I’d like you just the same.” He runs his thumb over Jensen’s cheek, calloused skin against soft as silk. “Darlin’, you’re a man… Well, a boy, but you’re gettin’ there. More importantly, you’re you. And you are amazin’, love. So you have to forgive me if I sometimes can’t help starin’. If I sometimes tell you you’re beautiful or forget my words ‘cause you make me too stupid to think. It’s just ‘cause I’m so damn happy to have you here.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen chokes out. “I don’t mind. Not when it’s you.”

Chris’s smile is blinding. “Well, that’s good. I’d hate you feelin’ bad ‘cause of my big mouth.”

“I like your mouth,” Jensen says honestly, smiling when Chris blushes, the tips of his ears turning pink. “You do great things with that mouth.”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Is that so? Like what?”

“You talk, you smile, you sing, you scowl and curse. You kiss, which is my favorite thing so far.” Jensen grin widens. “And if I’m lucky, which I really hope I am, you’ll suck my dick real good.”

Chris’s face turns deep red. It’s amazingly adorable. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”

Jensen laughs. “No, but I’ll kiss you.”

“You better,” Chris growls and seizes his mouth, kissing him hard and deep. They make out for a long time, hands roaming pretty much everywhere, their touches getting increasingly desperate, until Jensen’s fingers brush Chris’s dick and he jerks back, panting. “Okay, wait, wait! Darlin’, slow down.”

Jensen groans. “Seriously? If you start talking about rainbows and not being gay again, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Shut up. No. I’m just…” Chris hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Darlin’, what you said. What happened to you…“

Jensen freezes. “Don’t.”

“Sweetheart…”

He pulls away, shaking his head. “No, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Chris takes his hand, pulling it to his chest. “We’re gonna have to,” he says gently. “For no other reason than you need to get tested.”

Jensen frowns. “Tested? For what?”

Chris has never hated the goddamn Bible belt as much in his life. The growing horror in Jensen’s eyes as Chris explains to him about STDs and HIV and the many dangers of exchanging bodily fluids is alarming but it’s nothing compared to the terror when the realization hits Jensen on what it means in regards to him. Jensen bolts up in bed, face deadly pale as he gulps for air. “What? But… They… I got that all over me! In me!”

Chris sits up slowly. If he wasn’t still so doped up, he’d be punching the walls right now, screaming in rage. Instead he just feels ill. “Darlin’, it’s gonna be alright.”

Jensen shakes his head. His breathing keeps getting harsher, shorter.

Chris takes Jensen’s hands in his own, squeezing them tight. “Darlin’, breathe. Breathe. Sshh. It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright. There’s no reason to think there’s anythin’ wrong. It’s just a test, darlin’, it’s just to be certain.”

Jensen pulls away, disgust and horror playing upon his face. He shudders, like his skin is crawling, like he’s covered in filth, with germs and diseases all over him. He rubs his hands, his face, his arms, like he’s remembering every inch of skin they’ve touched, smeared, and spattered with blood and spit and come. And he just can’t seem to stop trembling.

“Chris?” Steve mumbles, voice rough with sleep, after another late night of drinking no doubt. Chris would feel guilty for waking him up so early but he’s freaking the fuck out and Steve’s the only one he can talk to.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, conscious of Jensen passed out from exhaustion in the other room after a night of almost no sleep and recurring panic attacks. “Fuck, Steve. I’mma fuck this up ‘cause I don’t… I fuckin’ can’t-”

“Hey, hey,” Steve cuts in. “Calm down. Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Chris draws in a deep breath, holding it as long as he can before letting it out in a huff. “I’m scared out of my fuckin’ mind, man,” he admits, voice shaking. He rubs his face, the stubble rasping against his palm. Jesus, he’s so damn tired. “And he’s just shuttin’ down and I… I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

“Chris, calm down. Talk to me. What happened?”

Chris squeezes his eyes shut. “Shit, man, I can’t. He told me. He confided in me and I can’t…” Jesus, he can’t breathe!

“Chris, you’re panicking,” Steve says, voice sharp. “Calm down and tell me what the hell happened. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on!”

Shit. Jensen is gonna kill him. But he just can’t do this on his own. “Someone… raped him,” Chris says, voice hitching when he hears Steve’s sharp intake. “When he was a kid. And I think, I think there were more… I don’t know! But those fuckin’ shitheads last week? They didn’t just beat him. They made him-” The images flash before his eyes, like they’ve done on an endless loop all night, and he wants to hurl. “All three of’em!”

“Oh shit,” Steve breathes.

Chris swallows the bile in his throat. “I need to get him tested but he’s fuckin’ terrified, man. He didn’t know, can you believe that? He’s so naïve, he don’t know a thing! Fuckin’ Bible belt, they don’t teach kids shit! Just cross your legs and wait for marriage. I mean, c’mon! Kids are gettin’ STDs and pregnant and fuckin’ dyin’ ‘cause God forbid they learn about safe sex!”

“Chris, you need to calm down,” Steve says, voice sharp. “You’re getting angry.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m angry! I’m fuckin’ furious!” Chris snaps.

“I get that! But if you’re not careful you could have another attack!”

Chris blows out air through his nose and slowly uncurls his fingers. “I’m takin’ my meds,” he dismisses, not mentioning that he just started that morning or that he’s decided to stick to half a pill because how can he help Jensen if he’s a fricking zombie? “Don’t worry. Can’t have me havin’ some fuckin’ feelings!”

“Sounds to me like you’re having plenty of them,” Steve says, clearly worried. “You sure your pills are working?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Chris growls. His heart is beating maybe a little too fast and whenever he thinks about Jensen’s trauma his vision goes a little red around the edges, but he’s fine. “We’re not talkin’ about me!”

“No, but what’s going on with him clearly affects you. So excuse me for being worried.”

“I can handle it. What I can’t handle…” He squeezes his eyes shut and draws a shaky breath. “What I can’t handle is if anythin’ happens to him. What if they infected him with somethin’? What if-“

“What if he’s absolutely fine and you’re panicking for no reason?” Steve says calmly before backtracking, “I mean, not no reason, what happened to him is fucking horrible. But don’t go borrowing trouble, baby. Get him tested. Then we’ll deal with whatever happens next.”

The relief he feels is tangible. “We?”

Steve chuckles on the other end of the line. “Baby, you may have traded me in for a younger, prettier model but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you.”

“I didn’t-” Chris sputters. “That’s not- We were never datin’!”

“Mhmm. So what you’re saying is you and the kid are? Dating, that is.”

“We’re… I don’t know! We’re… somethin’. Or we were but now it’s all shit and I don’t know, man. I don’t know.” Chris drops his head into the crock of his arm. “He won’t even let me kiss him ‘cause he thinks he’s contagious.”

“He might be right.”

Chris’s face crumbles. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that. I love him, man. I know it ain’t been that long, but lord help me, I love that boy so much. He makes me stupid, I know, but I don’t care. I just wanna see him happy.” He thinks he’s crying, he can’t quite tell with his arm pressed against his eyes, but his throat hurts and there’s a headache building up pressure in his skull, and he can’t stop shaking.

“Chris… Chris, listen to me! Are you listening to me?”

The phone is suddenly plucked from his hand and he hears Jensen say, “He’ll call later.” Then the call is cut off just as Steve stammers, “Hey, kid, wait-”

Shit.

Chris gulps in air. “I’m sorry,” he rasps, wiping his eyes with an already damp sleave before he dares to look up. Jensen stands before him, staring at his feet, whole body rigid. “Darlin’…”

“You told him.”

Chris starts to reach out but lets his hand drop. “I… Yeah. I’m sorry.” He swallows. “I just needed to talk to someone. I know that’s no excuse.”

Jensen bites his lips together, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down. “What you said…” he asks, voice hoarse. “You mean it?”

Chris hesitates, just long enough for Jensen take a step back, visibly shrinking in on himself. “Yes!” Chris stands up, eyes fixed on Jensen. “Yeah, I meant it. I don’t expect anythin’ from you, I want you to know that. But yeah. Yeah, darlin’, I do love you.”

Jensen finally raises his head. His eyes are still downcast, his teeth digging into his lower lip. “Even now?”

God, it hurts to see him like this. “More than ever.” Chris steps closer, taking Jensen’s hands in his own. “What happened to you don’t say nothin’ ‘bout who you are, darlin’. You any idea how many I’ve been with? You think I’m any worse for it?”

“It’s not… it’s not the same,” Jensen mumbles, but he scrunches his nose a little, like he can’t help being bothered by it.

“No, I made my own choices. But they weren’t all good and they weren’t all clean or safe. I’ve had a scare or two, I have. I got lucky. And if there is a God, you’ve been lucky too. And if not… If not, then we deal with that. Together. But we need to know. We need to know, sweetheart.”

Jensen swallows and nods. “Yeah. I know. It’s just…” He lets out a shaky breath and Chris wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight.

“I know. I know, darlin’.” He strokes Jensen’s back and hair, chin pushed into Jensen’s shoulder because he’s too damn tall. “We’ll go tomorrow, how’s that? And I’ll stay with you, the whole time.”

Jensen sucks in a deep breath. “Can you… can you say it again?”

Chris pulls him even tighter. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much.” The broken laugh makes him smile and he kisses Jensen’s neck, his jaw, pretending he can’t hear Jensen’s protests as he finally reaches his lips. “Already kissed plenty, darlin’,” he murmurs. “If it’s gonna kill me, it’s already done.”

Jensen kisses him back with a desperate fierceness that has Chris sucking in air through his nose. Jensen’s hands disappear into Chris’s hair, tugging at it hard enough that he feels the sting all the way down to his dick, and he moans into Jensen’s mouth. He wants nothing more than to flip Jensen down on the bed and undress him, to gaze at all that pale skin and taste it, inch by inch. But not now. Not yet. With a groan of regret he pulls away, pushing down on his dick with the heel of his hand before he embarrasses himself. Jensen makes a soft hurt sound that is almost enough to make Chris forget all about tests and dangers and possibly deadly diseases.

“I promise you, I’mma give you everythin’ you want and more, sweetheart. You just gotta wait a little while longer.”

Jensen drops down on the bed with a groan. “Fuck, I’m dying here.”

“Not askin’ you to keep yourself for me,” Chris chuckles. “You can jerk off all you want.”

Jensen glances up at him and then he scoots up on the bed, pillows at his back, and shoves his hand down the front of his sweats.

Chris blinks, his throat instantly dry. “I meant in your room. Not, not… Jesus fuck,” he breathes as Jensen pulls out his dick, eyes never leaving Chris’s face.

His knees suddenly feel weak, and he has to lean against the wall. The only thing keeping him standing is knowing he’ll miss the show if he drops to the floor. Jensen is stroking his dick, all long and hard and just as beautiful as the rest of him. Chris fumbles with shaky hands, undoing his own belt buckle, popping the fly open and groping in his underwear for his cock, hissing as his fingers close around it.

“Lemme see,” Jensen says, voice hoarse, face pink. “I wanna see it.”

Christ! Chris pulls his dick out, the weight of his belt dragging the jeans down his thighs, and he spreads his legs to keep them from falling past his knees. “Like this?” he rasps.

“Yeah.” Jensen’s eyes are wide, his mouth open, panting hungrily. “Wanna watch you, learn what you like.”

“Jesus!” There are pearls of precome leaking from the slit and he smears them down the shaft, making his grip slick, his strokes easier. He lets go for a moment to lick his hand, savoring the familiar tangy taste already coating his palm. Jensen whimpers and God, it’s almost enough to make Chris come on the spot. But if Jensen wants a show, Chris is gonna give him a goddamn show. Praying he gets one in return. “If you show me,” he begs.

Jensen’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he circles the head of his cock with his thumb and index finger and it’s all Chris can do not to say to hell with it and stalk over to the bed and swallow that pretty dick down. “I like it slow at first,” Jensen whispers, blushing. “Not too tight.”

“I like it tight, then loose, then tight again,” Chris says, showing him. “And I’d rather use my whole hand.”

“I like just circling it like this when I’m stroking myself but then…” Jensen curls his fingers. “I like to fuck my fist when I’m getting close.”

“Dry?”

Jensen’s blush turns deep red. “Maybe a little spit.”

“Show me.”

Jensen’s cheeks suck in as he pools saliva in his mouth then spits it into his hand. It should be gross but it’s not, it’s fucking hot and dirty. Chris licks his lips, watching raptly as Jensen smears the spit over his dick, then pushes into his still wet fist, making a squelchy sound. Jensen’s eyes roll a little back in his head before he manages to focus again. “Like that,” he moans.

“I like it real wet,” Chris rasps. “Like to use lube to make it slide all nice and slippery. In the drawer beside the bed,” he elaborates when Jensen looks intrigued. “Never used lube?”

“Never had any,” Jensen admits, rummaging in the drawer until he comes up with the tube of lube and tosses it to Chris who catches it one handed, the other one never leaving his dick. “Thought it was just for, you know, butt sex.”

“Man, I have so much to teach you,” Chris groans, his grip finally as slick as he likes it. “Sex ed, the way it should be.”

“Live demonstration?” Jensen huffs a laugh. “Don’t think they teach it that way anywhere.”

“Should,” Chris pants, picking up speed. “I’d have paid so much better attention with your pretty dick showin’ me how to put on a condom.”

Jensen snorts. “I’d have to learn it first,” he says, reaching down to roll his balls in his free hand. “Oh fuck,” he moans, the hand on his dick speeding up.

“You like that?” Chris asks and cups his own balls, pulling gently on the sack. “Wait ‘til you have me rollin’ them around in my mouth.”

Jensen’s eyes go wide, and he shouts, shooting all over his chest, all the way up to his chin. He looks so shocked; Chris can’t help laughing. Until Jensen drags his fingers dazed through the mess on his chest and then shoves them all into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Oh Jesus,” is all Chris manages to choke out, and then he’s coming all over his hand, dripping jizz down on the floor. His knees give out and he slides down the wall, bare ass hitting the cold floorboards with a smack. Then he just sits there, panting as Jensen grins at him, eyes still burning hot.

“So, that’s how you like it?”

“Well, most times I finger myself while I’m at it, but yeah,” Chris pants, smirking when Jensen turns deep red. “I’ll show you next time.”

“I, uh, I’d like that,” Jensen gulps. He looks like he wants to ask but bites his lip, unsure, so Chris puts him out of his misery.

“I start with one,” he explains, “and make sure to use plenty of lube. Then two when that’s not enough, sometimes three. If I want somethin’ extra, I’ve got stuff.”

This time Jensen looks almost afraid to ask. “Stuff?”

“Butt plugs, dildoes, vibrators. I like things in my ass,” Chris says casually, only blushing a little.

“So you like…” Jensen hesitates.

“Gettin’ fucked? Yeah. It can be real good. Like fuckin’ too. All that top or bottom shit… never really cared. Some prefer one to the other,” he elaborates when Jensen looks confused. “I just like sex, don’t much care what kind.” He tilts his head, studying Jensen. He looks wary, even a little fearful. “Sex don’t have to mean penetration, darlin’,” Chris says gently. “It can just mean this or usin’ hands or mouths. You never wanna do more? That’s alright, love. It’s up to you.”

“I just…” Jensen visibly shivers. “I don’t know. I mean, I want to, I think, it’s just…”

Chris nods. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it, darlin’. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.” He staggers to his feet, legs like Jell-o as he stumbles to the bed. “Scoot over. I’mma lay down a minute,” he says, a yawn tugging at his jaw. Damn, he’s spent.

Jensen moves awkwardly to the side. “I can go,” he says but Chris catches him around the waist as he starts to roll away and pulls him close, back to chest.

“Stay,” he mumbles, kissing Jensen behind the ear. “Just a few minutes. Just…” He snuggles closer, smiling when Jensen relaxes in his arms, head rolling back so Chris can nuzzle at his neck. Jensen’s chest is sticky under his palm, he’s pretty sure he’s smearing his own jizz into the back of Jensen’s sweats. They should clean up, take a shower, get to the clinic. And they will. In a little while. He just needs to close his eyes for one minute…

“Pure dumb luck, that’s what it is. I could cry, man, I’m so relieved. And that ain’t all, he ain’t even vaccinated! I mean, what the hell? He’s lucky he ain’t succumbed to, I don’t know, polio or somethin’!”

“So, now you’re getting him vaccinated?” Steve asks. There’s talking in the background, laughing, and Chris feels a tiny sting of nostalgia, of days spent smoking up and passing a bottle of Jack between them before having drunken sex in the back of Steve’s van.

“I ain’t about to lose him to some preventable disease just ‘cause his parents are morons,” Chris mutters. “And I’m gettin’ him a library card. That boy needs to get educated on so many things and I ain’t patient enough.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “No kidding. So… how you holding up?”

Chris closes his eyes. “I ain’t Hulkin’ out if that’s what you mean.”

“Not what I meant,” Steve says quietly. The noise behind him has dampened, like he’s moved into a more private space. “And you thinking I do means you’re not alright.”

Chris rubs a hand over his face, the rasp against his palm reminding him he really needs to shave. “I’m just worried.” He glances toward the door of the clinic but there’s still no sign of Jensen. He said he had to use the bathroom but Chris suspects he needed a minute to compose himself.

“About him? Or you?”

Chris swallows. “Both. I mean, he’s fine. Figured he might be, not like he was sproutin’ warts or anythin’, but just gettin’ it confirmed is a load of my mind. Don’t think it’s sunk in for him yet. He’s too quiet. But the boy’s as healthy as he can be. Head’s all screwed up, but that’s another story.”

“But?”

“But…” Chris sighs. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m the last person he should be relyin’ on. I mean, you know me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve says, voice warm. “Kind, compassionate, fiercely protective.”

Chris blinks. “I was thinkin’ more ornery, hot-tempered bastard,” he says, feeling awkward.

“Well, that too,” Steve agrees, and Chris can just picture him grinning. “Not to mention smooth talker and one hell of a kisser.”

“Jesus, you’re makin’ me blush.” He laughs, embarrassed, but something in Steve’s voice has him hesitating. “We need to talk about this? Us, I mean?”

“There is no us, remember?” This time there is definitely something there. A little sadness, a little hurt.

“Steve…”

“It’s just… You swapped me out pretty damn quick. Wasn’t long ago I was fucking you on your couch.” Steve sighs into the phone, the buzz of his breath brushing Chris’s ear. “Should have known, you couldn’t take your eyes off the door the whole time. Wishing he’d come out and what? Take over? Join in?”

“What? No!” Chris sputters. “No. C’mon, man. It ain’t like that.”

“Then what’s it like? What the hell is it with that kid? I know we weren’t… I know. But fuck, you’ve never once looked at me the way you look at him and you don’t even know him!”

Chris drops his head. Shit. He thought they’d just been fucking around. Relieving tension. Having fun. The hurt in Steve’s voice, that doesn’t sound like fun. It sounds like… maybe not love but definitely more than just lust. More than just mutual masturbation. How did he miss that?

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I don’t know what happened, darlin’.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Not now.” Steve sounds tired, fed up. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. I’m sorry, man. I never meant for any of this. Not him, not you. I never…” He swallows, the realization a sharp sting in his chest. “Never figured it’d happen for me. Was kinda countin’ on it wouldn’t.”

“What?” Steve grumbles. Then with soft understanding, “Love?”

Chris swallows. “Yeah. Was never gonna…” He sucks in air through his nose before blowing it out between his teeth. “He killed her.”

“I know.” The anger is gone, just like that, and God, Chris loves him so damn much. “Baby, you’re not him.”

“I am. Shit, Steve, I am. I hurt him. Jensen. I didn’t even know. Might need physical therapy, doctor said, his back is all fucked up. And he’s all covered in bruises from holdin’ me down when I fuckin’ lost it the other night. I did that and I didn’t even know!”

“Again? Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Steve says sharply. “Fuck, Chris. Okay, okay, not good. But you know that’s your brain being an asshole, not you deliberately forgetting.”

“That don’t make it any better!”

“No, but it makes it useless for you to wallow in guilt. You’re taking your meds, right? Have you talked to your doctor?”

He should. “I’m waitin’ for her to call me back,” he lies, promising himself he’ll call as soon as this conversation is over. “She’s a busy woman.”

“Alright. If she doesn’t call back soon, call her again. How about your therapist?”

Chris grimaces. “Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna call her.”

“Make sure you do. When’s the last time you saw her?”

Chris is thankful Steve can’t see him squirming. “I don’t know. A few weeks.”

“Chris.”

He sighs. Gives up. “Maybe six months. Could be eight. I don’t remember.”

Steve’s exhale sounds sharp in his ear. “Christ. You’re a moron, you know that?”

Yeah, he knows. “You comin’ for dinner tonight?”

“You want me to?” Steve says, sounding surprised.

“Sure, yeah. If you want. Have a drink before the show, maybe a couple after. You can stay over. Not in my bed,” Chris adds quickly, cheeks heating.

Steve huffs. “He sleeping there?”

“No. He’s got his own room. But…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just being an ass.” Steve sighs. “I’m fine on the couch. Or maybe I’ll try my luck among your clientele.”

“Don’t think you’ll need any luck,” Chris says, faintly surprised he doesn’t feel even a hint of jealousy. “Half of them already wanna fuck you.”

“Think you’re confusing me with you. Every gig, man. Drool on the goddamn floor. Only reason they don’t jump your ass is ‘cause you’re a scary motherfucker. I don’t stand a chance with you there.”

Now there’s a lie if he ever heard one. “So why don’t you just keep on doin’ your solo stuff? Matt told me you killed’em dead last week.”

“You tired of singing with me?” And there’s that hurt again. Dammit.

“No. I’d love to pair up for a few songs, but bein’ on stage two whole nights in a row…” He bites his lip. “I’m drinkin’ way too much, man.”

The huff is so loud he swears this time he can feel it blow into his ear. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s just revelations left and right today. You know you can skip the whiskey, right?”

“But drinkin’s half the fun,” he argues, then sighs. “I know, man. I’m tryin’ to cut down. It’s just… Well, I’m makin’ an effort. That’ll have to do for the moment.”

“Alright.” Steve clicks his tongue then says, “You could do a couple of songs with the kid.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He catches a movement at the edge of his vision and looks up to see Jensen limping across the parking lot, heading his way. “Look, I gotta go but… How ‘bout we cook somethin’? Been a while.”

“Sure. I’ll shop. Hey, babe?”

The familiar endearment sounds suddenly wrong, coming from Steve. “Yeah?” Chris says, eyeing Jensen who’s rapidly closing in.

“I was wrong. I think he might be good for you. Just…don’t do all this stuff for him. Do it for you. In case… Well, you know.” Then he hangs up before Chris can tell him no, he doesn’t.

Jensen pulls the door open and slips inside. He’s still a little pale from earlier, unused to needles anywhere near his body. He didn’t faint but it was a close call, Chris could tell. Jensen puts on his seatbelt and rubs his arm, grimacing slightly.

“You alright?”

Jensen leans against the window and closes his eyes. “Can we go home?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Chris puts his hand on Jensen’s knee, squeezing it lightly before putting the truck in gear. “Your arm hurtin’? It should wear off by tomorrow, next day the latest.”

“I’m okay.”

He doesn’t sound okay. This whole thing has been an ordeal. Being poked and prodded and asked intimate questions…

Was a moment there or two at the initial examination Chris thought the kid was gonna bolt. From what Chris figures he’s only ever been to a doctor for broken bones. Probably none of them accidental judging by the shameful look on Jensen’s face as the doctor made him list them, and they were far too many. When the doc asked Jensen if he preferred Chris stepping outside - in case he was the one responsible, Chris guessed, and he couldn’t even be mad about it because he might not have broken any bones, but he sure bent that boy out of shape. Literally. Still felt good when Jensen grabbed his hand and said no, he wanted Chris to stay. Even through the uncomfortable questions regarding abuse and sexual history that Jensen clearly struggled to answer, being so used to lying. And God, Chris had known it was bad but… Jensen’s folks are lucky Chris gave up his gun the day after he got his diagnosis, or he’d be heading down there right now, trigger cocked. And he still suspects Jensen is holding some things back. Things Chris really doesn’t want to think about, if he’s to keep his temper in check.

Jensen had hesitated when he’d been asked to strip, shooting Chris a nervous glance. Chris thought he was just feeling shy until he saw the cascade of bruises all over Jensen’s chest and arms and even legs and felt sick when he realized with a pang when they must have happened. But Jensen just grabbed his hand and gazed into his eyes for a moment before lying straight up when asked how he acquired them. Told the doc he’d got into a scuffle with some drunk idiots. Never even looking Chris’s way but holding his hand so tight Chris didn’t dare contradict him even if it made him feel like a goddamn abuser.

Jensen had crushed Chris’s fingers hard enough to hurt when the nurse drew his blood, but Chris reckons he deserved it. Wouldn’t have minded if Jensen had broken a couple, to be honest. Jensen paled up like a ghost when the needle went in but he didn’t flinch, just bit his lip and breathed harshly through his nose. Kinda like he’s doing now.

“I was thinkin’,” Chris says to distract him, “You mind me joinin’ you for a song or two Sunday night?”

The panicked panting comes to an abrupt halt. Jensen raises his head and looks over at him, startled. “Really?”

Chris shrugs. “If it’s alright by you. Not lookin’ to steal your thunder or anythin’. Just thought it could be fun.”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah, I’d love that.” Jensen’s laugh sounds a little breathless. “Really?”

“Really.” Chris grins at him. “I’ll even let you keep all the tips. Not that you have any need to worry. You made a killin’ last time.”

Jensen blinks. “I did?”

“You didn’t check the envelope?” Chris chastises. “Son, you gotta look after your money!”

“I figured it wouldn’t be that much,” Jensen says, looking uncomfortable. “Not with how I was.”

“Darlin’, what you talkin’ about?” Chris says, frowning. “You fuckin’ killed it! There weren’t a dry eye in the house. Seriously, you didn’t check? People stuffed nothin’ but big bills in that jar. Matt had to empty it to make room for more. Never had anyone make so much in one night. I oughta take a manager’s cut.” He looks over and laughs at Jensen’s shocked face. “I’m kiddin’! It’s all yours.”

“I’m not…” Jensen shakes his head. “What? But I was… I don’t even remember half of it.”

“That’s my fault.” Chris pats Jensen’s knee in apology. “I promise, that ain’t gonna happen again. You’re better now, and we’ll take a nice break, two if you’d rather. And I won’t be drinkin’.” He pauses then adds, “As much,” because he’s not gonna make promises he knows he’ll break. He’s not an alcoholic. He’s not. He just really likes whiskey.

Jensen slides a look at him. “I kinda liked you drunk,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Chris is suddenly hit with the memory of them that night, of Jensen’s warm lips, soft and eager against his, of slipping his tongue into Jensen’s hot mouth and… God, the noises Jensen had made, almost desperate whimpers. It had been… Chris’s face reddens and he has to curl his fingers around the steering wheel to keep from grinding the heel of his hand down on his aching dick.

“I like drinkin’ too, that’s the problem,” he says, clearing his throat when his words come out a little strangled. “Been tryin’ to cut back but…” He shrugs. Not even Matt’s disapproving glares make much of a difference. He tries telling himself it’s okay, he’s not mixing it with that many pills, but the way his hands sometimes shake before he takes that first sip…

He pulls into his parking spot by the bar. “By the way,” he says, throwing the door open. “Steve’s comin’ over. Thought we’d treat you to some decent cookin’ for a change.”

Continued here.