Real Person Fic - CW: Carve Our Names in Hearts Into the Warhead [Part 2/2]
Back to Part One
Six months later, Jared is fully prepared to admit just how much he fucked up. He does wonder on occasion if maybe the world ended before he came down here after all, if the bomb went off so fast Jared never even realized he was dead. That would explain it pretty well. He spent his whole life being one cold bastard, so it figures that this is his Hell.
For a guy who thought he had no heart to speak of, Jared's apparently going to spend the rest of eternity two inches away from someone he loves-nobody else around to distract himself with, no hope of snapping out of it, and no chance he'll ever measure up to what Jensen lost-but will never, ever, ever get. He'd take rolling a rock uphill or a nice, intestine-eating eagle over this any day.
Jared doesn't know how long someone grieves the kind of loss Jensen suffered, but even if the instances of Jensen crying in his sleep have begun to decrease dramatically, that doesn't mean anything for Jared. He's glad Jensen's less unhappy, but he's not going to pretend he'll ever have a chance. Jensen's had perfect, and, whatever fondness he's got for Jared because proximity has forced it upon him, this isn't like that for him.
Every morning begins the same way. Jensen sleeps in Jared's arms with his face pressed to Jared's chest. It’s not weird, because they're the only people in their world and that makes it standard practice. Jensen needs the comfort, and maybe Jared would push him away for his own sake, but apparently that's not how being in love works.
Jared is up first, regardless of when and how they fell asleep. It's his favorite part of the day. It's the only time he gets to watch Jensen without restraint: the steady rise and fall, warm and trusting, so fucking stupidly gorgeous even when all Jared can see of him is the top of his head.
He wakes up bleary-eyed with his hair mussed and looks up as if just that little bit of effort is more than he can manage but he's pushing himself through it anyway for Jared's sake. He gives Jared a dim, sleepy smile and says, "Hi."
Every morning, hi. No variation on the theme: no hey, no good morning, just hi, like his poor, sleep-addled brain cannot aspire to more than that one syllable. It should be annoying or repetitive, but the predictability of it only makes it that much more endearing to Jared. Stupid, stupid, masochistic bastard that he is. Jared doesn't think he's wired to go through his day without it anymore. Jensen needs his coffee in the morning; Jared needs his hi.
Jensen starts running the scans while Jared makes coffee and breakfast, and they switch off, Jared handing Jensen a mug when he enters the lab, which Jensen takes as his cue to go eat. He smiles up at Jared when he smells the brew, and sometimes their fingers brush as he passes the drink over. Jared is twelve years old again, trying desperately to hide his first crush, and he doesn't care. That electric little touch is like food to a dying man.
It doesn't take long to check up on Baby (which is what Jensen has named the big, black warhead and Jared figures, fuck it, if they're the only two people left on Earth, the bomb definitely gets its own name). Most of the work was done before they got down here. They only have to make sure she's still in working condition, because waiting for the alert to sound has gotten old.
Jared has wondered from time to time if the war is over and they were simply forgotten down here. It's been nearly a year with no good or bad news, just silence. Not that he's complaining. Jared never had a thing to speak of up on Earth that even comes close to his life with Jensen. Okay, so maybe it's agonizing torture as well, but anyone who thinks Jared would give it up has never been in love.
They head to the living room (Jared has long since given up on trying to distance himself from thinking of this as a home by calling it the rec room) and spend a few hours eating shit. Jensen has made it through fifteen of his crossword books already and has begun rationing them out. Jared is working on a project for Christmas: they've got fifty years of backlogged copies of The New York Times and he spends a little bit of time each day clipping the crosswords and pasting them into a new book for Jensen.
Then, at some point, Jensen gets bored with trying to be clever (his words, not Jared's) and takes a break from puzzling. He always announces it the same way. "Play a song for me, Jared."
Jared's guitar usually springs to his fingers unbidden at that point, because he loves playing and always has, and the fact that Jensen enjoys that sends him over the moon. Sometimes he has songs picked out nights in advance for Jensen and sometimes he wings it. Eventually, they usually end up working on one of Jared's originals, with Jensen singing the lyrics Jared used to keep under lock and key, too embarrassed to let anyone else know just how committed he was to his hopeless dreams of making it big.
Then Jared makes dinner while Jensen straightens the place up, sweeping and mopping and scrubbing (like a good little housewife, Jared jokes, and Jensen flicks dirty mop water at him). After, they might go back to reading quietly or they might watch a movie, or they'll sort through the silo's music introducing each other to favorites and fighting over what does or does not suck.
More often than not, that leads to actual fighting, each of them scrambling to pin the other down. It's physical, like fucking, only it always ends before it gets to the good part, and sometimes Jensen will casually say something about his wife and Jared will feel like he's just been hit by a train. He lets himself forget that Jensen is in mourning sometimes, and that his chances of overcoming that are about as good as his chances of winning a Grammy. It's easier to be happy that way, but man does it make for some rough reminders.
Days don't pass quickly, but they pass well. Jared's not in any rush. He doesn't really care anymore if he ever sees the sun again, and he sees the stars every night thanks to Jensen. Okay, so it's perpetually spring and Lupus still looks like something someone shit out instead of an actual constellation, but it passes. Jared's got the best thing the world has to offer right down here with him, trapped so he has to give Jared the time of day. If the human race is content to sit up on the surface in the middle of this war forever, Jared's content not to push that button and not to breathe fresh air again, either.
Today, Jensen's hair sticks out in every direction. His lids hang heavily, but he grins, and Jared's heart stops right on schedule. He waits for his hi, but instead Jensen moves up very slowly without saying it, and Jared's worried Jensen's upset, that he did something wrong without knowing it, until Jensen lowers himself again, his lips meeting Jared's.
Jared freezes. Jensen's mouth is warm and sure against his, and he licks into Jared's, deepening it. Jared just lies there under him, completely limp, letting it happen but not giving back. He can't give back. He can't. What if this is a dream? How the hell is he supposed to look at Jensen tomorrow if he lets himself believe in this and then loses it?
Jensen is undeterred by the lack of response. He puts his hands on the sides of Jared's face, pulling him closer. The kiss is so passionate that finally Jared reaches up, gripping Jensen and not letting go as he begins to kiss back.
When finally they break away, Jensen blinks at Jared, his usual morning smile now nothing but a quirk up in the corner of his mouth. "Hi," he says.
Jared laughs, all of this crazy, hysterical joy exploding out of him because he doesn't know what the fuck is going on or how it could be happening, but it is. The inside of his chest feels like a fusion reaction going off-like the core of the sun, hot and bright, so much so that it'll burn him up in a second.
He grabs for Jensen and kisses him again, whispers, "Is this okay?" against Jensen's mouth, even though Jensen started it. Jared is still half-convinced Jensen will realize his mistake; Jared's not what he wants, he can't be.
But Jensen nods and leans in, his voice nervous and shaky. "I want you, Jared."
He takes Jared's hand in his and guides it down, as if Jared needs a map at this point. As if he hasn't spent the last nine months fantasizing about touching Jensen just like this.
Springing to action, Jared rolls Jensen onto his back, kissing him as he does it. On top of Jensen, Jared feels like the Emperor of Switzerland himself, minus the impressive facial hair and the chocolate-induced belly. He's been wanted plenty in his life, but this might be the first time someone tells him they want him and really means him. Jensen, Jared knows, is not the kind to fuck lightly, not even before he met his wife from what Jared has gathered. Sex means something to him that it never has for Jared, and the fact that Jensen's asking him for it must mean Jared is a lot more to write home about than he ever realized.
Jared grinds down on Jensen, their kisses only breaking so that he can sit up and pull his shirt off over his head. Jensen looks up at him with these wide eyes, pupils blown up too big. He puts his hand right on Jared's chest, a touch that goes straight to his dick, but even through how turned on he is, he doesn't miss the gesture when Jensen presses his palm up, over Jared's heart. He wraps his own hand around that one, squeezing it, and Jensen smiles so soft and tender that Jared is floored by it.
"I want you," he says again. "I love you, Jared."
Jared lets out a sound he didn't even know he could make and comes back down, lips crashing on lips like a wave on the sand. "I love you, too," he tells Jensen between kisses. "I've loved you for so long."
Jensen's dick is hard against Jared's thigh, and he slips his hand down and into Jensen's boxers, curling his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to see it to know it's as gorgeous as the rest of him: long and lean and already wet at the tip. Jared wonders if it's got the same pink flush Jensen's cheeks do right now, and then he remembers he's allowed to look at that, so he pulls back and shoves the thin cloth between him and Jensen all the way down Jensen's legs.
Hands holding tight to Jared's ass, Jensen thrusts up, his legs spreading wider to make more room now that the fabric isn't in the way. "Please," he begs. "Please, please."
"Oh god," Jared says. He can hardly think enough to reach for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube that's been for nothing but the occasional jerk off session since the world ended. His fingers are wet in seconds and he pushes one into Jensen, already addicted to the moans Jensen makes in the back of his throat.
By the time he's got three fingers inside, Jensen is writhing on him, his mouth open and panting and his pleas so desperate they could probably make Jared come all on their own, but he's not giving them a chance. He curls his fingers against Jensen's sweet spot one more time and then slowly draws them out.
"You're sure about this?" Jared asks as he takes off his boxers and slicks up his dick.
Jensen nods, biting his bottom lip. "God, yes. Fuck, Jared, please."
Jared's not a guy who needs to be asked twice. He pushes Jensen's shirt up to his armpits, lowering his mouth to kiss and then lick at a nipple. Jensen gasps, his body shaking so perfectly under Jared's mouth. But then he surprises Jared. Sweet, gentle Jensen fists a hand in his hair, pulling him up for a bruising kiss.
He lines his cock up with Jensen's ass and shoves in, the first second so overwhelming he actually has to hold himself still for a good minute or so, or he'll lose it. It's not like it escaped him just how long it's been since he fucked, but the tight warmth of Jensen around him, the glazed look of Jensen's green eyes and that sore, fucked up mouth after nine months of celibacy and pining are more than he can stand.
Jensen's hand curls, stroking gingerly over Jared's cheek as Jared takes deep breaths to steady himself. Finally, he pulls out and pushes back in, nice and slow, the way he suspects Jensen prefers it. He's never done this before-not in all his hundreds of fucks did Jared ever take the time to pay attention to what his partner likes or doesn't, to worry about if they want it rough or calm and thorough. He's never made love, and, cheesy as it sounds, he knows that's what he and Jensen are doing now.
"Jared," Jensen whispers, as if he's been waiting years for Jared, which is just fucking ridiculous. Jared's the one who's been waiting. Dying for this, for Jensen.
He rolls his hips in a measured pace and listens for what makes Jensen's muted groans grow louder. He's not a patient guy usually, not when his cock is running the show, but for Jensen he's going to make it good, even if it takes the next 12 hours to get Jensen there.
Jensen pulls his legs up, holding them by the ankles, and Jared thrusts hard into him, so goddamn taken with the sight of Jensen offering himself up like that. Jensen smiles, turning his face into his pillow. Jared knows he's found Jensen's prostate, so he repeats the action with even more force, and Jensen lets out a cry of pleasure that Jared hopes he'll remember for the rest of his life.
It's amazing the way Jensen takes him, his eyes locked on Jared every time they're about to kiss, a look in them that says Jensen trusts him completely to do this right. So he does, fucking Jensen in that deliberate way he seems to enjoy so much until he can't hold back any more. He comes in a strong rush that leaves them both breathless.
Then he pulls out and works his mouth down Jensen's chest, salty sweat delighting his tongue as he circles the same nipple he'd only gotten started on before. Jared can imagine the torture Jensen's going through, his hands gripping the headboard tightly now as he keeps them away from his dick. He wants to promise the wait will be worth it, that he's gonna take care of Jensen, but he doesn't need to. Jensen already knows.
When he finally reaches Jensen's dick, Jensen is bucking up into thin air, begging for relief. Jared pushes his hips down into the mattress and licks tentatively at the head of Jensen's dick, making eye contact as he does so. Jensen looks shattered, his eyes fluttering shut and his breath leaving him in one gratified moan. He takes Jensen deep and sucks him slow, fingers playing with Jensen's balls and his tongue fucking at the slit as he pulls up.
It's Jared's name that Jensen says as his orgasms hits, not as a shout like Jared intended, but in a loving little whisper instead. It's better. It's so much better than anything he could have imagined in all his thousands of fantasies. He comes back up feeling like he just conquered the world and pushes his face against Jensen's chest for once.
Jensen plays absently with Jared's hair as they both recollect their wits, but Jared's too stunned by the whole thing to even try to talk or get out of bed for the day.
Finally, Jensen says, "I think you saved my life, Jared."
Jared looks up, propping his chin on Jensen's chest. "What do you mean?"
"I was dead," he says. "When we first got down here. I was so miserable that I was hardly a ghost of myself, and if anyone else had come down that hatch with me, I still would be. You and your stupid pick-up line." He laughs, shaking his head, but then he looks down at Jared with an expression that isn't kidding around. "I'm so fucking lucky they picked you."
On their first anniversary, Jensen makes breakfast for once. Jared goes into the kitchen and finds two plates set up on the table, one Twinkie sitting on each. Jensen seems very pleased with himself for that, and Jared would tell him he's not that cheap a date if he could just stop smiling long enough to do it.
Apparently, it's a tradition. He wakes up to the same treatment a year later, one Twinkie per person, Jensen preening like the smug bastard he is. Jared tries not to wonder just what the hell they're gonna do on their anniversaries when that one box of Twinkies runs out as he drags Jensen in for a kiss-they both taste like sugar and whatever non-food goes into Twinkies-and doesn't let him go until Jensen reminds him they have a baby to take care of.
The missile's inspection doesn't take any longer than usual but Jared doesn't let Jensen lead him out to the living room when they're done. Instead, he pulls him back by the wrist and guides Jensen down a path, up the stairs, until they're standing right at the top of their warhead. They stroll slowly up and down the metal planks, arms linked as Jared points in every direction and tells him about the park he used to spend so much time in before they came down here.
He's kissing Jensen against the cool steel of a railing when he gets the idea to mark the warhead, just in case it ever does get fired. Yeah, maybe it'll wipe out the world, but it brought him and Jensen together, so it's not all bad. He wants some of the good to show on it-what can he say, he's fond of the damn thing.
"What are you doing?" Jensen asks when Jared takes his keys from the pocket of his lab coat.
Jared sends him a mischievous smile and begins to carve away the black paint, leaving scratched, silver letters behind instead. "What's it look like I'm doing? I'm using this here oak tree to let the world know."
Jared
♥
Jensen
When he pulls back and surveys his handiwork, Jensen laughs. "Jared," he scolds, but when he takes the keys from Jared, he doesn't tuck them into his pocket again like Jared's expecting. Instead he steps to where Jared was a moment ago and carves a big heart around their names, an arrow head sticking out at the bottom and its ass up in the air on the opposite side. "You forgot something."
Jared keeps waiting for the day he gets used to this feeling, but he's not any closer now than he was two years ago. They come back to their warhead-slash-love-tree for a picnic that night, and when they're done, they fuck under the stars.
Jensen's favorite game these days is to name a city and then try to dream up what it's like up there right now, how he and Jared might meet and fall in love, or what they would get up to on a trip. He found a map of the world, one so big it takes up the whole wall behind their couch; its span is greater than Jared's arm's stretched out twice over.
It's old, too, maybe from the Cold War, when the most basic layout of this bunker had originally been carved out. Russia is called the U.S.S.R. and is even bigger than Switzerland is today, and Switzerland is so small it seems boggling to Jared that things have shifted in what really hasn't been a very long time. This map was current about 150 years ago, and now he can hardly recognize how places match up with their modern day equivalents.
"Egypt," Jensen says idly as he plays with Jared's hair. They're cuddled up on the sofa, which is really too small for this, Jared's head resting in Jensen's lap and body draped over the rest of the couch and Jensen sitting at the far left corner with a book he apparently got tired of reading in his hand. "What about Egypt?"
Jared thinks for a few seconds and grins. "I went to Egypt on an archaeological dig because I'm as hot as Indiana Jones only without the pansy fear of snakes…"
"Uh huh," Jensen says skeptically. Jared made Jensen watch the Indiana Jones movies about a year into living down here, when Jensen told him he'd never seen them because he wasn't into 'old timey shit,' and Jared had immediately regretted it. Apparently Jensen's aversion to old timey shit did not extend to Harrison Ford when he was still young.
"It's true, you'll see it yourself. Because we have to fight snakes to get out of the pyramids and I do it bravely while you cower."
"Ignoring how the snakes even got into a pyramid in Egypt, what am I doing there?"
"Well, you're a mummy, of course."
"I'm a mummy?" Jensen asks flatly. "You're killing me off?"
"Yes." Jensen angles his head so Jared can see his glare, so Jared continues, "And no! See, you're a cursed mummy, and you wake up when I discover you and fall instantly in love with my strapping looks and great hair and my Indiana Jones whip, because, seriously, who isn't into that?"
"Come near me with that whip and I'll show you," Jensen replies.
Jared makes a serious face. "I would never. Your bandages would get ruined and then you would shrivel up, my sweet mummy love."
"This is just getting creepy, Jay."
Jared ignores him. "Yes, I would bring you back to America so that you could be on display in a museum, but then you would reveal to me that you were alive and I would love you despite your being gross and mummified, such is my devotion."
"God, you're a moron," Jensen mutters, but he picks up the box on the end table next to the couch, the one full of push pins, and picks one out, moving up to stick it through Egypt on the map.
Jensen marks off every place they go like this. So far there are pins all over the map: the north pole (where Jared was an abominable snowman, so Jensen's really got no place to be upset about the mummy thing), New Zealand (no way we're not going to Middle Earth, Jared says, and Jensen tells him that he really needs to stop watching so many old movies), 45 of the 50 states.
"How about Paris?" he says when he settles back into his spot. "How's Paris doing these days?"
"Oh, you know, thriving."
"Thriving?" Jensen snickers. "Thriving through the apocalypse?"
"They've made a real art out of survivalist fashion. The things Pierre Lacroix can do with a trash bag and some empty cans of Spam."
"Oh, you are a homo."
Jared nods proudly. "Through thick and thin, mon cher."
"And you fled America when you realized we were just not going to be up to your fashion standards during this whole apocalypse thing, only to meet me there."
"What are you doing in France, if you're so butch?"
"Hold on I'm thinking," Jensen says. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers. "Got it. I hid out in the caves of France to avoid the nuclear fallout, then walked to Paris when I heard there were people there."
"Where do we meet?" Jared asks, sitting up.
Jensen grins. "Stranded on top of the Eiffel Tower, of course. The radiation zombies are too lazy to climb that many stairs, and we're the only two people who figured this out. So we live up there, returning to the ground only on occasion for food and when you drag me to fashion shows."
"This is brilliant. You dream us out of being stuck underground only to strand us over ground on the world's ugliest architectural structure."
"You're impossible to please," Jensen murmurs. "I thought you'd prefer being above ground. Closer to the stars, right?"
"Not high enough to make any kind of perceptible difference," Jared says, just to be a spoilsport.
"Wanna go to Mars, Jared?" Jensen kisses him and smiles. "You should be an astronaut. Up there in the stars. Why aren't you? You love them. You're smart enough. The guys on the space station still get to avoid dying if the bombs went off."
Jared shrugs. "I wasn't recruited by NASA, I was recruited by Jim. Anyway, being an astronaut is about as useful as climbing the Eiffel Tower. You don't actually get closer to the stars. Not on Mars, either. They're too far for us puny humans to make a difference."
Jensen frowns. "I'd take you to see them."
Jared shakes his head. "Stars are like people. You don't want to get too close. They burn you up when you get too close. That's what I always used to like about them. I could always trust them not to…"
Jensen's fingers stroke gently over his cheek and Jared laughs uncomfortably, looking away. Jensen's too close right now, looking at him like he can read Jared's mind, and as much as Jared loves that about him, it still scares him sometimes. He used to be so safe from shit like this.
"I'll take you to Ecuador," Jensen says. "We went there on our honeymoon. You'll love it, Jared. All these animals you can't even imagine, and at night. Maybe you don't get closer to the stars, but even I could tell how many more there were out. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful."
"I had a boyfriend in college who said the same thing," Jared says, which is kind of an exaggeration, because Osric hadn’t been his boyfriend. He was just a cool guy Jared dated until he asked Jared where 'this' was going and Jared had said 'hopefully to the bedroom,' and Jared never got why he stopped answering Jared's calls after that until right now. "But he was studying astrology, I don't think he knew I would care. He went abroad and wouldn't talk about anything else when he got back."
"He was right," Jensen says, his fingers moving lazily on Jared's arm. "I wish I could take you there."
Jared shifts in his arms and smiles at him. "We could go to Alaska and see the northern lights. I wouldn't be able to decide what to look at, you or the borealis. You're just that pretty."
Jensen huffs out a laugh and pushes Jared's shoulder. "Fine, make a joke out of it." He stands up, sticking pins into Paris, Ecuador, and Alaska and then walking to the door. "I'm gonna start up dinner, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jared says, smiling as he watches Jensen leave.
The smile drops as soon as Jensen's out of the room, and he fiddles his fingers, glaring jealously at the map as if it's competition. He wonders what it means that Jensen loves this so much, if it's just a way to pass time, or if Jensen really is that desperate to get out. If he needs Paris and Greece and Rome to be happy and in love, because Jared doesn't, all he needs is Jensen. He takes a red pin and drives it through Texas, right over where their silo is. It's the only place he can really believe in love. The only place he needs, though.
Jensen sticks his head back into the room. "Did you want burgers or-?" He stops when he sees Jared messing with the map, and Jared steps back, wondering if Jensen will be upset. The pin over Texas-that's not how this works, and he knows it. But when Jensen stops by his side to look and sees what Jared's done, his smile goes all warm and gooey and he turns to Jared with a fond expression, like he knows exactly what it means and likes it. Jared stops wondering for a few seconds if he's enough for Jensen, because Jensen kisses him like he's too much.
Of course, everything has to go wrong eventually. Life is not perfect, not forever, and it has been for longer than Jared deserves.
It happens on their third anniversary. Jensen brings the box of Twinkies out, frowning for once instead of his usual smile. "There's only enough for one more year after this," he says.
Which, okay, bummer, Jared thinks, because it's a nice tradition and he likes it. But he can live without Twinkies. The only thing he cannot live without is Jensen. So he makes some joke and brushes it off and tries to pretend Jensen's smile doesn’t falter as soon as he starts to turn away.
The rest of the day goes on without a hitch, so Jared thinks it was just a weird moment until they're drifting off to sleep a few nights later.
"Do you ever wonder what happened up there?"
Jared shrugs, Jensen's head moving against his chest as he does so. "Not really. I figure we'll know when we need to know."
Jensen rises to his elbows and watches Jared interestedly. "You really aren't curious about it at all?"
"Well, sure," Jared says. "I guess. But what are we gonna do about it, go back up and check?"
He's laughing the suggestion off when Jensen nods. "Yes. I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I think we should."
A chill runs through Jared, nuclear winter in his veins. "What do you mean? We can't just go back up."
"Why not?" Jensen asks.
"We've got orders," Jared replies. "They told us not to do anything until-"
"We're scientists, not soldiers. We're supposed to question, not follow orders." Jensen smiles. "We could see the stars."
"We do see the stars," Jared answers weakly. "All the time."
Jensen laughs. "Ah, come on, Jay. You know what I mean. We could see the real stars, have a real oak tree, live in a real house. Maybe even eat real food on our anniversaries."
It doesn't matter that Jensen's tone is playful. Or maybe that makes it worse. This isn't real to Jensen. What they have isn't real to Jensen. Jared's never had anything this real, and Jensen's just tired of playing along.
He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it. All the things they've made up stories about. Kissing Jensen on the rim of the Grand Canyon, the sun sinking behind layers of weathered rock; spitting off the Empire State Building while Jensen hides his face and tries to pretend he isn't laughing as he scolds Jared and drags him away from the edge; a house, just a little yellow farmhouse with a busted wooden fence and a tire swing in the front yard, some kid with Jensen's eyes running up to him and calling him dad.
They're nice images, but Jared can't grasp any of them long enough for them to stick, long enough for them to seem like real possibilities. They evaporate behind memories of what life is really like up there: endless dinners alone in front of the television, his parents downstairs, not wanting to see him at their party; Jensen surrounded by friends and family, the people he's missed so much he's itching to run back up, and slowly forgetting Jared.
Jensen tells him all the time how much they would love him, how well he would get along with Chris or how his mother would take to him instantly, one look at those puppy dog eyes and five minutes to see how Jared appreciates a good meal and Jared would be her favorite son.
Jared's already more attached to the fantasy than he wants to let on. He yearns to be a welcome part of Jensen's family: to have a spot reserved every year at the Thanksgiving table, to sit next to that worn armchair Jensen's Pa has owned since Jensen was a baby and talk to him about baseball as if that's just a normal thing to do. Like people do with their dads, when their dads want anything to do with them.
But he knows how it would really go. He's seen pictures of Mrs. Ackles, has come to love that kind, worn face Jensen keeps in his wallet. He can't bear the thought that she'll be the one to pull Jensen aside and ask him if he's kidding himself, if he can actually compare Jared to what he had before and pretend he's happy. Maybe it'll be Chris, some night when he's had one drink too many and can't keep the thought in. More than likely, Jensen won't need to hear it from any of them. He's a smart guy. He'll be done with Jared before Jared gets a chance to even try to charm the friends and family.
It's a damn long time before Jared can trust himself to answer with a steady voice.
"We can't go up there, we don't know what's happened," says Jared, because he's not above keeping Jensen simply by virtue of the fact that Jensen has no choice. "They could have all burned up so quickly they didn’t even have time to tell us to retaliate. We might find a barren wasteland-radiation will poison us, we'll get sick. If we even open the hatch we'll let it in. We can't just risk that."
"It might be the same as when we left up there," Jensen counters. "For all we know, people are driving around half a mile above our heads, business as usual, and we're down here acting like the world has ended."
"It wasn't such a great world," Jared mutters. "I thought ours was a pretty good alternative."
"This isn't any kind of life," Jensen says. "Not for this long a time. It wasn't supposed to last this long. They can't really expect us to live down here forever."
"Why not?" Jared frowns. "Is this really so bad?"
Jensen's eyebrows draw together and he climbs up, trying to kiss Jared, but for the first time ever, Jared turns away from him. "Jared, you're taking this the wrong way. I'm not saying that this is bad." He takes Jared's hand and brings it to his lips. "Hey, look at me. This is great. This is so much better than it has any right to be, all things considered. And I do love you. You make me happy."
Jared laughs coolly, shaking his head. He can't help thinking: Jensen signed up for this, knowing all along that living down here for years was a possibility. When it was going to be with her, that was fine with him. Hell, he'd made plans to raise his kids and everything. It's only him that Jensen doesn't want to be stuck down here with, and damned if Jared isn't jealous of the dead and unborn. "Not enough, apparently."
He doesn’t even know why he's surprised or disappointed. He always used to be so good at reminding himself that he's not enough for Jensen. He got lazy over the last three years. He started to let himself believe Jensen didn't think so.
"How can you say that?" Jensen asks, brushing hair away from Jared's eyes. "It's because of you that I want to go back. It's because I love you and I want a life with you that I'm even thinking of this."
"You can't go up. You'll get sick. You'll die. I won't let you risk yourself."
Jensen shakes his head. "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Even if I do, I'll live for years before the sickness gets to me. I'm gonna die someday regardless, might as well be radiation."
"Don't fucking joke about this," Jared snaps.
"You know I'm the last person in the world to joke about something like that. But I mean it. I don't think the world ended up there, Jared. You, the way I feel about you, it's reminded me that people aren't all bad. I believe they found a way, if not to peace to at least some temporary solution. But if they didn't-well, you and me being the last people on Earth isn't any better to bear in the dark than it is in the sunlight, is it?"
"Yes," Jared says. "At least this way there's a chance-"
"There's a chance if we risk it, Jared. And it could be great. They'll be pissed at us for disobeying and coming back and putting the operation in jeopardy, maybe, but we won't be ending the world. I don't want to blow it up anymore; I want to live in it with you. Just think, we can find new lives-Jared, you could play your songs for people. They've gotten so good, it's not right that no one else gets to hear them. And me-I think the part of my life that belonged to this kind of work is behind me, and I think I'm finally okay with that."
It occurs to him that there is a very easy solution to this problem. All he has to do is walk into the next room, put one finger's worth of pressure down on that launch button, and end this conversation for good. He could keep Jensen all to himself, and the fact that it's so tempting doesn't scare or surprise him as much as it should.
"I can't talk about this anymore," Jared says, pushing Jensen off of him. "I'm gonna sleep on the cot tonight."
Jensen tries to catch him by the wrist, but Jared tugs his hand back and leaves. It's been years since they tucked the cot away, but Jared brings it out to the launch control room and sets it under the stars. Under the stars Jensen made for him, which are his favorite ones, even if Jensen's outgrown them.
He hears the door creak open early the next day, but Jared is already sitting up, caffeinated and halfway through the daily tests. He's been up since what would be the crack of dawn, if such things still existed, trying his damnedest to keep his mind and hands busy, his finger off the trigger.
Sleep didn't really happen the night before, half because he couldn't turn his brain off and half because the damn cot really is that uncomfortable. Remembering that Jensen managed to sleep on it for months just to avoid Jared only made him feel more sour about the whole thing.
Jared doesn't turn toward the noise-it's not like there are a whole lot of options on who it could be coming in. "Go away. I've got it under control today."
Jensen takes the chair next to Jared anyway, swiveling so it's facing him and sliding his hand onto Jared's wrist. "Morning."
"I said go away," Jared replies, keeping his eyes glued to the graph he's working on and pointedly not letting himself look at Jensen. "I'm working."
"You?" Jensen says with a laugh. "You're working? Jared of the 'who cares if we fuck instead of recording data it's not like anyone is going to want to see our charts after the world ends' Padaleckis is too busy working?"
"You bet." Jared turns a page over to mark something, shaking Jensen's fingers off of him.
Jensen is as stubborn as Jared is, so he leans in, his lips brushing Jared's ear. "We could do much more fun things than work, couldn't we?"
"Not really," Jared answers. "Maybe later."
Jensen sits back, letting his hand drop onto his thigh. "I can't believe it. You're actually mad at me."
"Mad," Jared says, trying to make himself laugh. "Who's mad? You had an idea. It was a shitty idea. The conversation's over."
"Oh, is that how it happened?" Jensen asks, a little bit of heat now creeping into his voice.
Jared finally looks up at him, his expression tight, and he meets Jensen's eyes, challenging him to disagree. Jensen's attitude changes completely, from being somewhat amused by Jared's bad mood to pulling back, like he didn't realize until just now that this isn't just something they're going to joke their way out of.
"Jared?" he says, his voice much softer. "Why are you so upset about this? It was just an idea."
"Maybe to you it was just an idea," Jared replies. He looks up through the window at the warhead and laughs, shaking his head. "You don't even care what it was to me."
"I don't-of course I care." Jensen is looking at Jared now like he doesn't even recognize him, and Jared knows, he knows he must sound crazy to Jensen. But Jensen never knew Jared before, he's never seen the way Jared pushes people away. He was never supposed to see it.
"It's okay, right?" Jared tells him, trying to smile, trying to be soft and open and all the things he has to be to compete with the rest of the world. "We're both adults, and adults have disagreements. We can just forget it ever happened and be happy again."
"I can't forget it happened," Jensen replies. "It's what I want. Even if you don't want it. Even if we decide not to do it. We need to talk about it. We're partners, aren't we? We can at least have the damn conversation before you say no."
"I'll give you anything else," Jared responds. "Anything else, Jensen. Please, not-not what you said you wanted yesterday. Pick something else."
"What are you scared of?" Jensen says. He puts his hand on the back of Jared's neck, and Jared closes his eyes, his whole body so desperate to relax under the touch. "You think I can't take down a few zombies to keep you safe?"
Jared looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help that his lips turn up just a bit when he sees Jensen's coaxing expression.
"I'm not scared of zombies," he says in a petulant tone.
That makes Jensen grin like he's getting somewhere, and he pulls Jared's face closer to his by his neck. "Talk to me, Jay. Just talk to me. Tell me what your problem with it is, and if you still want to stay, we'll stay. This doesn't have to be something we fight over."
The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill, but then Jensen leans in and kisses him, pulls back with one of those adoring looks on his face, and Jared can't do it. Jensen looks at him like he's the goddamn sun sometimes. It won't last a minute up there, not once Jensen remembers how low he's been settling.
Instead, he hands Jensen the clipboard with the graphs he's been working on and gives Jensen a forced grin. "Here, you finish these since you're so eager to be in here. I'm gonna go make lunch."
Jensen's mouth opens in shock, and then his expression shuts down as he watches Jared get up to go. "Yeah, okay," he says, his voice resigned, and Jared wants to take everything back and give Jensen anything to make him smile again. But that's not an option, not really, because it would mean taking the first step to losing him.
When Jensen comes out for lunch, it's his turn to give Jared the cold shoulder. He's not angry, not exactly, but he keeps his conversation short and withdrawn, and when Jared tries to lighten the mood, Jensen only looks betrayed and stays quiet or walks off entirely.
They eat dinner separately for the first time in years, and when Jared is done washing up, he finds Jensen in the living room, gazing off into space with a broken expression that reminds Jared too much of when they first got down here. When he was still mourning his wife, and Jared wonders if Jensen is mourning him, if in his attempt to keep things the way they are he's going to do just the opposite.
Delicately, Jared takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from where Jensen is and waits. Even now, just hearing Jensen breathing next to him beats out the quiet hum of the generators anywhere else in the silo, and maybe Jensen feels the same way, because he doesn't get up, doesn't say anything, just sits with Jared for a long time, staring off.
"Do you still love me?" Jared asks after a while. "If I still say no. Have I made it so you can't love me?"
Jensen turns his face toward Jared then, not looking surprised by the question, just sad and weighed down, and almost like he's aged. Then he does the last thing in the world Jared's expecting, still without saying a word. He reaches out, puts his hand in Jared's lap, and waits for Jared to take it.
When Jared does, Jensen gives him a weak smile, and Jared breathes just a little easier. He knows what it means and wonders what he would have to do to make Jensen keep loving him once they reach the surface, if he even has it in him or if his instinct is right and he shouldn't even try.
Jared doesn't sleep much the next night, either. Jensen comes out to find him when he's changed into a loose shirt and boxers, doesn't vocalize the invitation, but waits to find out what Jared is going to do.
"I need another night to think," Jared tells him, pointing toward the launch control room. "It's just-I need to be alone for a little bit."
Jensen licks his lips and nods, looking down at the floor. He turns toward their room, but stops at the threshold, calling out and stopping Jared in his tracks.
"I'm always going to," he says, and Jared doesn't even have to ask to know that he's answering the question Jared had posed hours ago. "I just don't understand why you don't trust me to."
Jared watches Jensen retreat into their bedroom then, closing the door behind him with a click that echoes through the silo halls. It leaves him with nothing but himself, his own ugly thoughts and wishes, and he stares up at the glow-in-the-dark sky, trying to parse out what the right thing to do is.
Deep down, he knows he's being selfish. He tells himself it's the radiation, the violence up there, and the chance that Jensen will be incinerated the second he opens the door. But that's not true. He's more scared the world is still up there, healthy and happy and ready to take them both back with open arms.
It's not because Jared doesn't want what Jensen wants, either. He misses the surface sometimes, and the only reason he prefers life down here is because it got him Jensen. If he had Jensen up there, it would be a better life, he can admit to that.
The problem is that he can't have Jensen up there. Not forever. Probably not even for very long. Maybe Jensen thinks he loves Jared now, but Jared hasn't forgotten who they were when they first came down here. Jensen can love, he has so many times in his life. He can love like any person can love, intensely and without the world having to end first.
Not Jared. Jared's only ever loved one thing, but it's strong and he can't live without it. All he has going for him now is that he is-at least as far as Jensen is concerned-very literally the last man on Earth, and maybe Jared can hold onto Jensen down here, where he's got no competition, but on the surface, anyone could come along. Anyone could steal Jensen from him, and why wouldn't Jensen fall for someone else? Jared's nothing special. He couldn't even make his own parents love him. He can't keep someone like Jensen.
For one brief moment, he finds himself sitting up on the cot, staring at the work station across the room, and he's sure. The big red button on that control board, he's going to press it. He can end the world, and then Jensen really won't have a choice. Once they know for sure that the bombs have gone off, they'll have to wait years for the radiation to decay. Years, he could keep Jensen for years. What the fuck is the fate of everyone else on the planet compared to that?
He doesn't realize he's crying until the door opens, light filtering in from the hallway. Jensen sits down on the floor next to the cot and presses his lips against Jared's forehead. "Come back to bed, Jay," he says softly. "Come back to me. I don't want to fight. We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up, okay? I won't again, I promise."
Jared wants to take that promise and hold him to it, but he knows he can't. No, as soon as Jensen brought it up, the decision was as good as made. He can't keep Jensen here against his will. He wants to so bad, but he's got no right and he loves Jensen too much to do it, anyway. "We'll leave tomorrow."
"You don't want to go," Jensen says. "I'm not going to make you."
"But I can't make you stay, either." Jared wipes at his eyes and tries to get his voice under control. "So what are we gonna do?"
"I can't do it without you, Jared. And I don't just mean I need your permission to risk opening the hatch and letting radiation in, because, obviously, but that's just not what I mean. I mean I don't want to do it without you. I never envisioned a life up there that didn't have you in it."
"I would follow you to the end of the earth," Jared finally admits. "But I'm scared you won't be with me when I get there."
Jensen's expression shifts, like he finally gets why Jared's so upset, and he sucks in a breath. "God, no, Jared. Jared. No. You think I-you don't know yourself very well at all. And if you think I'm going to forget about you, about everything we've shared in the last three and a half years, you don't know me very well, either."
Jared reaches out, grabbing a fistful of Jensen's shirt and shaking his head desperately. "No, I do. You're the only one, but I know everything about you. Please, that's all I know."
"Then you know you can trust me." Jensen kisses Jared softly, sliding in next to him and cradling Jared's head against his chest. "Trust me, Jay. I know it's risky to go up there, but I want to risk it. I think we can be happy. I think it's worth the chance."
"Nothing's worth the chance of losing you," Jared replies. "I just-I can't lose you."
"There's no chance of that," Jensen promises. "Not the way that you think, at least."
Jensen stands up, holding onto Jared's hand as he does so. "Come back to bed with me, babe. We'll decide in the morning."
Jared nods sulkily and follows Jensen to their room. When they get there, Jensen kisses him slowly and pushes him into bed. He covers every inch of Jared with his mouth, whispering praises that Jared doesn't think are true, but Jensen is so meticulous as he lists every sweet thing that Jared can't imagine him wasting the time unless he means it. Jensen's not a friend of inefficiency.
By the time he's done, Jared really doesn't remember what he was so upset about. Well, he does, but he knows Jensen is right-that if he really loves Jensen, he should trust him, too. So the next morning when Jensen comes out for breakfast, he finds two plates on the table, the last Twinkies they have sitting on them.
Jared doesn't have to tell him what that means. Jensen looks from the food to Jared, his eyes wide and shining. The smile on his face is like nothing Jared's ever seen in his life. "You're sure?"
Jared nods, sitting across from him. "I'm still half-convinced we're gonna get doused in radiation and grow extra heads, but. I spent a lot of time thinking last night, and I finally decided…" Jensen watches Jared, hanging onto his every word, so Jared stops containing his smirk. "I decided we could think of some pretty creative ways to use extra heads, if you know what I'm saying."
Jensen snorts. "You came down here spouting shitty pick-up lines and that's how you're determined to leave, huh?"
He laughs, but then he clears his throat and makes himself look Jensen square in the eye. He's terrified, and his hands are shaking, and it's kind of hilarious considering they're smack in the middle of nuclear apocalypse and that's the farthest thing from what's terrifying him. "If you have hope and faith and believe in people enough to take the chance that things are still okay up there, I would have to be pretty low not to have a little faith in you."
Jensen takes his hand and kisses the back of it. "We're going to laugh about this with our grandkids one day," he whispers. "You and me and our hole in the ground and the time we thought the world ended."
"Yeah," Jared agrees, not sure he really does believe it, but training himself to let go of the doubt. "I guess we will."
Breakfast passes quietly, the intensity of what's coming hanging between them. Neither of them wants to talk about what they might or might not find up there, the fact that they're risking walking out into a wasteland or discovering they spent the last three years in hiding for no reason. They're doing this, and if they're doing this there's no point in scaring each other more about it.
They spend about two hours packing and another hour bickering over what they are or are not going to take: Jensen's map (how are you going to keep the pins in place, genius?), a thousand newspapers worth of crossword puzzles, four notebooks full of new songs, and, after Jared takes the back of a hammer to the ceiling for a solid half hour, a small chip of the night sky.
Their eyes lock as Jared releases the air-tight door leading to the hatch they entered from, and that's it, there's no turning back. It's as final as if he'd launched Baby after all, but Jared's pretty sure he chose the right button to press.
It's a long climb back up to the surface, the sparse metal mine-shaft elevator that originally serviced the silo rusted out in the century between when it was built and when they started to update it, and apparently fixing it was not high enough on the priority list for it to get taken care of before the attack on San Francisco threw off the timeline.
Jared looks down as they make their way back up the twisting stairs, despite Jensen telling him not to. It's not vertigo that makes him move slower every time he sees the distance between them and the ground so much as the same worries and anxieties that almost had him ending the world.
Jensen catches him eventually, turning to say something to Jared and grabbing his hand instead, forcing Jared to look up at him. He leans in and whispers, "We're almost there. Are you ready?"
Jared nods, follows him up into the landing and down the hall toward the exit.
He kisses Jensen one last time in the safety of their silo, and then, hand in hand, they step out into the sunlight.
Six months later, Jared is fully prepared to admit just how much he fucked up. He does wonder on occasion if maybe the world ended before he came down here after all, if the bomb went off so fast Jared never even realized he was dead. That would explain it pretty well. He spent his whole life being one cold bastard, so it figures that this is his Hell.
For a guy who thought he had no heart to speak of, Jared's apparently going to spend the rest of eternity two inches away from someone he loves-nobody else around to distract himself with, no hope of snapping out of it, and no chance he'll ever measure up to what Jensen lost-but will never, ever, ever get. He'd take rolling a rock uphill or a nice, intestine-eating eagle over this any day.
Jared doesn't know how long someone grieves the kind of loss Jensen suffered, but even if the instances of Jensen crying in his sleep have begun to decrease dramatically, that doesn't mean anything for Jared. He's glad Jensen's less unhappy, but he's not going to pretend he'll ever have a chance. Jensen's had perfect, and, whatever fondness he's got for Jared because proximity has forced it upon him, this isn't like that for him.
Every morning begins the same way. Jensen sleeps in Jared's arms with his face pressed to Jared's chest. It’s not weird, because they're the only people in their world and that makes it standard practice. Jensen needs the comfort, and maybe Jared would push him away for his own sake, but apparently that's not how being in love works.
Jared is up first, regardless of when and how they fell asleep. It's his favorite part of the day. It's the only time he gets to watch Jensen without restraint: the steady rise and fall, warm and trusting, so fucking stupidly gorgeous even when all Jared can see of him is the top of his head.
He wakes up bleary-eyed with his hair mussed and looks up as if just that little bit of effort is more than he can manage but he's pushing himself through it anyway for Jared's sake. He gives Jared a dim, sleepy smile and says, "Hi."
Every morning, hi. No variation on the theme: no hey, no good morning, just hi, like his poor, sleep-addled brain cannot aspire to more than that one syllable. It should be annoying or repetitive, but the predictability of it only makes it that much more endearing to Jared. Stupid, stupid, masochistic bastard that he is. Jared doesn't think he's wired to go through his day without it anymore. Jensen needs his coffee in the morning; Jared needs his hi.
Jensen starts running the scans while Jared makes coffee and breakfast, and they switch off, Jared handing Jensen a mug when he enters the lab, which Jensen takes as his cue to go eat. He smiles up at Jared when he smells the brew, and sometimes their fingers brush as he passes the drink over. Jared is twelve years old again, trying desperately to hide his first crush, and he doesn't care. That electric little touch is like food to a dying man.
It doesn't take long to check up on Baby (which is what Jensen has named the big, black warhead and Jared figures, fuck it, if they're the only two people left on Earth, the bomb definitely gets its own name). Most of the work was done before they got down here. They only have to make sure she's still in working condition, because waiting for the alert to sound has gotten old.
Jared has wondered from time to time if the war is over and they were simply forgotten down here. It's been nearly a year with no good or bad news, just silence. Not that he's complaining. Jared never had a thing to speak of up on Earth that even comes close to his life with Jensen. Okay, so maybe it's agonizing torture as well, but anyone who thinks Jared would give it up has never been in love.
They head to the living room (Jared has long since given up on trying to distance himself from thinking of this as a home by calling it the rec room) and spend a few hours eating shit. Jensen has made it through fifteen of his crossword books already and has begun rationing them out. Jared is working on a project for Christmas: they've got fifty years of backlogged copies of The New York Times and he spends a little bit of time each day clipping the crosswords and pasting them into a new book for Jensen.
Then, at some point, Jensen gets bored with trying to be clever (his words, not Jared's) and takes a break from puzzling. He always announces it the same way. "Play a song for me, Jared."
Jared's guitar usually springs to his fingers unbidden at that point, because he loves playing and always has, and the fact that Jensen enjoys that sends him over the moon. Sometimes he has songs picked out nights in advance for Jensen and sometimes he wings it. Eventually, they usually end up working on one of Jared's originals, with Jensen singing the lyrics Jared used to keep under lock and key, too embarrassed to let anyone else know just how committed he was to his hopeless dreams of making it big.
Then Jared makes dinner while Jensen straightens the place up, sweeping and mopping and scrubbing (like a good little housewife, Jared jokes, and Jensen flicks dirty mop water at him). After, they might go back to reading quietly or they might watch a movie, or they'll sort through the silo's music introducing each other to favorites and fighting over what does or does not suck.
More often than not, that leads to actual fighting, each of them scrambling to pin the other down. It's physical, like fucking, only it always ends before it gets to the good part, and sometimes Jensen will casually say something about his wife and Jared will feel like he's just been hit by a train. He lets himself forget that Jensen is in mourning sometimes, and that his chances of overcoming that are about as good as his chances of winning a Grammy. It's easier to be happy that way, but man does it make for some rough reminders.
Days don't pass quickly, but they pass well. Jared's not in any rush. He doesn't really care anymore if he ever sees the sun again, and he sees the stars every night thanks to Jensen. Okay, so it's perpetually spring and Lupus still looks like something someone shit out instead of an actual constellation, but it passes. Jared's got the best thing the world has to offer right down here with him, trapped so he has to give Jared the time of day. If the human race is content to sit up on the surface in the middle of this war forever, Jared's content not to push that button and not to breathe fresh air again, either.
Today, Jensen's hair sticks out in every direction. His lids hang heavily, but he grins, and Jared's heart stops right on schedule. He waits for his hi, but instead Jensen moves up very slowly without saying it, and Jared's worried Jensen's upset, that he did something wrong without knowing it, until Jensen lowers himself again, his lips meeting Jared's.
Jared freezes. Jensen's mouth is warm and sure against his, and he licks into Jared's, deepening it. Jared just lies there under him, completely limp, letting it happen but not giving back. He can't give back. He can't. What if this is a dream? How the hell is he supposed to look at Jensen tomorrow if he lets himself believe in this and then loses it?
Jensen is undeterred by the lack of response. He puts his hands on the sides of Jared's face, pulling him closer. The kiss is so passionate that finally Jared reaches up, gripping Jensen and not letting go as he begins to kiss back.
When finally they break away, Jensen blinks at Jared, his usual morning smile now nothing but a quirk up in the corner of his mouth. "Hi," he says.
Jared laughs, all of this crazy, hysterical joy exploding out of him because he doesn't know what the fuck is going on or how it could be happening, but it is. The inside of his chest feels like a fusion reaction going off-like the core of the sun, hot and bright, so much so that it'll burn him up in a second.
He grabs for Jensen and kisses him again, whispers, "Is this okay?" against Jensen's mouth, even though Jensen started it. Jared is still half-convinced Jensen will realize his mistake; Jared's not what he wants, he can't be.
But Jensen nods and leans in, his voice nervous and shaky. "I want you, Jared."
He takes Jared's hand in his and guides it down, as if Jared needs a map at this point. As if he hasn't spent the last nine months fantasizing about touching Jensen just like this.
Springing to action, Jared rolls Jensen onto his back, kissing him as he does it. On top of Jensen, Jared feels like the Emperor of Switzerland himself, minus the impressive facial hair and the chocolate-induced belly. He's been wanted plenty in his life, but this might be the first time someone tells him they want him and really means him. Jensen, Jared knows, is not the kind to fuck lightly, not even before he met his wife from what Jared has gathered. Sex means something to him that it never has for Jared, and the fact that Jensen's asking him for it must mean Jared is a lot more to write home about than he ever realized.
Jared grinds down on Jensen, their kisses only breaking so that he can sit up and pull his shirt off over his head. Jensen looks up at him with these wide eyes, pupils blown up too big. He puts his hand right on Jared's chest, a touch that goes straight to his dick, but even through how turned on he is, he doesn't miss the gesture when Jensen presses his palm up, over Jared's heart. He wraps his own hand around that one, squeezing it, and Jensen smiles so soft and tender that Jared is floored by it.
"I want you," he says again. "I love you, Jared."
Jared lets out a sound he didn't even know he could make and comes back down, lips crashing on lips like a wave on the sand. "I love you, too," he tells Jensen between kisses. "I've loved you for so long."
Jensen's dick is hard against Jared's thigh, and he slips his hand down and into Jensen's boxers, curling his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to see it to know it's as gorgeous as the rest of him: long and lean and already wet at the tip. Jared wonders if it's got the same pink flush Jensen's cheeks do right now, and then he remembers he's allowed to look at that, so he pulls back and shoves the thin cloth between him and Jensen all the way down Jensen's legs.
Hands holding tight to Jared's ass, Jensen thrusts up, his legs spreading wider to make more room now that the fabric isn't in the way. "Please," he begs. "Please, please."
"Oh god," Jared says. He can hardly think enough to reach for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube that's been for nothing but the occasional jerk off session since the world ended. His fingers are wet in seconds and he pushes one into Jensen, already addicted to the moans Jensen makes in the back of his throat.
By the time he's got three fingers inside, Jensen is writhing on him, his mouth open and panting and his pleas so desperate they could probably make Jared come all on their own, but he's not giving them a chance. He curls his fingers against Jensen's sweet spot one more time and then slowly draws them out.
"You're sure about this?" Jared asks as he takes off his boxers and slicks up his dick.
Jensen nods, biting his bottom lip. "God, yes. Fuck, Jared, please."
Jared's not a guy who needs to be asked twice. He pushes Jensen's shirt up to his armpits, lowering his mouth to kiss and then lick at a nipple. Jensen gasps, his body shaking so perfectly under Jared's mouth. But then he surprises Jared. Sweet, gentle Jensen fists a hand in his hair, pulling him up for a bruising kiss.
He lines his cock up with Jensen's ass and shoves in, the first second so overwhelming he actually has to hold himself still for a good minute or so, or he'll lose it. It's not like it escaped him just how long it's been since he fucked, but the tight warmth of Jensen around him, the glazed look of Jensen's green eyes and that sore, fucked up mouth after nine months of celibacy and pining are more than he can stand.
Jensen's hand curls, stroking gingerly over Jared's cheek as Jared takes deep breaths to steady himself. Finally, he pulls out and pushes back in, nice and slow, the way he suspects Jensen prefers it. He's never done this before-not in all his hundreds of fucks did Jared ever take the time to pay attention to what his partner likes or doesn't, to worry about if they want it rough or calm and thorough. He's never made love, and, cheesy as it sounds, he knows that's what he and Jensen are doing now.
"Jared," Jensen whispers, as if he's been waiting years for Jared, which is just fucking ridiculous. Jared's the one who's been waiting. Dying for this, for Jensen.
He rolls his hips in a measured pace and listens for what makes Jensen's muted groans grow louder. He's not a patient guy usually, not when his cock is running the show, but for Jensen he's going to make it good, even if it takes the next 12 hours to get Jensen there.
Jensen pulls his legs up, holding them by the ankles, and Jared thrusts hard into him, so goddamn taken with the sight of Jensen offering himself up like that. Jensen smiles, turning his face into his pillow. Jared knows he's found Jensen's prostate, so he repeats the action with even more force, and Jensen lets out a cry of pleasure that Jared hopes he'll remember for the rest of his life.
It's amazing the way Jensen takes him, his eyes locked on Jared every time they're about to kiss, a look in them that says Jensen trusts him completely to do this right. So he does, fucking Jensen in that deliberate way he seems to enjoy so much until he can't hold back any more. He comes in a strong rush that leaves them both breathless.
Then he pulls out and works his mouth down Jensen's chest, salty sweat delighting his tongue as he circles the same nipple he'd only gotten started on before. Jared can imagine the torture Jensen's going through, his hands gripping the headboard tightly now as he keeps them away from his dick. He wants to promise the wait will be worth it, that he's gonna take care of Jensen, but he doesn't need to. Jensen already knows.
When he finally reaches Jensen's dick, Jensen is bucking up into thin air, begging for relief. Jared pushes his hips down into the mattress and licks tentatively at the head of Jensen's dick, making eye contact as he does so. Jensen looks shattered, his eyes fluttering shut and his breath leaving him in one gratified moan. He takes Jensen deep and sucks him slow, fingers playing with Jensen's balls and his tongue fucking at the slit as he pulls up.
It's Jared's name that Jensen says as his orgasms hits, not as a shout like Jared intended, but in a loving little whisper instead. It's better. It's so much better than anything he could have imagined in all his thousands of fantasies. He comes back up feeling like he just conquered the world and pushes his face against Jensen's chest for once.
Jensen plays absently with Jared's hair as they both recollect their wits, but Jared's too stunned by the whole thing to even try to talk or get out of bed for the day.
Finally, Jensen says, "I think you saved my life, Jared."
Jared looks up, propping his chin on Jensen's chest. "What do you mean?"
"I was dead," he says. "When we first got down here. I was so miserable that I was hardly a ghost of myself, and if anyone else had come down that hatch with me, I still would be. You and your stupid pick-up line." He laughs, shaking his head, but then he looks down at Jared with an expression that isn't kidding around. "I'm so fucking lucky they picked you."
On their first anniversary, Jensen makes breakfast for once. Jared goes into the kitchen and finds two plates set up on the table, one Twinkie sitting on each. Jensen seems very pleased with himself for that, and Jared would tell him he's not that cheap a date if he could just stop smiling long enough to do it.
Apparently, it's a tradition. He wakes up to the same treatment a year later, one Twinkie per person, Jensen preening like the smug bastard he is. Jared tries not to wonder just what the hell they're gonna do on their anniversaries when that one box of Twinkies runs out as he drags Jensen in for a kiss-they both taste like sugar and whatever non-food goes into Twinkies-and doesn't let him go until Jensen reminds him they have a baby to take care of.
The missile's inspection doesn't take any longer than usual but Jared doesn't let Jensen lead him out to the living room when they're done. Instead, he pulls him back by the wrist and guides Jensen down a path, up the stairs, until they're standing right at the top of their warhead. They stroll slowly up and down the metal planks, arms linked as Jared points in every direction and tells him about the park he used to spend so much time in before they came down here.
He's kissing Jensen against the cool steel of a railing when he gets the idea to mark the warhead, just in case it ever does get fired. Yeah, maybe it'll wipe out the world, but it brought him and Jensen together, so it's not all bad. He wants some of the good to show on it-what can he say, he's fond of the damn thing.
"What are you doing?" Jensen asks when Jared takes his keys from the pocket of his lab coat.
Jared sends him a mischievous smile and begins to carve away the black paint, leaving scratched, silver letters behind instead. "What's it look like I'm doing? I'm using this here oak tree to let the world know."
Jared
♥
Jensen
When he pulls back and surveys his handiwork, Jensen laughs. "Jared," he scolds, but when he takes the keys from Jared, he doesn't tuck them into his pocket again like Jared's expecting. Instead he steps to where Jared was a moment ago and carves a big heart around their names, an arrow head sticking out at the bottom and its ass up in the air on the opposite side. "You forgot something."
Jared keeps waiting for the day he gets used to this feeling, but he's not any closer now than he was two years ago. They come back to their warhead-slash-love-tree for a picnic that night, and when they're done, they fuck under the stars.
Jensen's favorite game these days is to name a city and then try to dream up what it's like up there right now, how he and Jared might meet and fall in love, or what they would get up to on a trip. He found a map of the world, one so big it takes up the whole wall behind their couch; its span is greater than Jared's arm's stretched out twice over.
It's old, too, maybe from the Cold War, when the most basic layout of this bunker had originally been carved out. Russia is called the U.S.S.R. and is even bigger than Switzerland is today, and Switzerland is so small it seems boggling to Jared that things have shifted in what really hasn't been a very long time. This map was current about 150 years ago, and now he can hardly recognize how places match up with their modern day equivalents.
"Egypt," Jensen says idly as he plays with Jared's hair. They're cuddled up on the sofa, which is really too small for this, Jared's head resting in Jensen's lap and body draped over the rest of the couch and Jensen sitting at the far left corner with a book he apparently got tired of reading in his hand. "What about Egypt?"
Jared thinks for a few seconds and grins. "I went to Egypt on an archaeological dig because I'm as hot as Indiana Jones only without the pansy fear of snakes…"
"Uh huh," Jensen says skeptically. Jared made Jensen watch the Indiana Jones movies about a year into living down here, when Jensen told him he'd never seen them because he wasn't into 'old timey shit,' and Jared had immediately regretted it. Apparently Jensen's aversion to old timey shit did not extend to Harrison Ford when he was still young.
"It's true, you'll see it yourself. Because we have to fight snakes to get out of the pyramids and I do it bravely while you cower."
"Ignoring how the snakes even got into a pyramid in Egypt, what am I doing there?"
"Well, you're a mummy, of course."
"I'm a mummy?" Jensen asks flatly. "You're killing me off?"
"Yes." Jensen angles his head so Jared can see his glare, so Jared continues, "And no! See, you're a cursed mummy, and you wake up when I discover you and fall instantly in love with my strapping looks and great hair and my Indiana Jones whip, because, seriously, who isn't into that?"
"Come near me with that whip and I'll show you," Jensen replies.
Jared makes a serious face. "I would never. Your bandages would get ruined and then you would shrivel up, my sweet mummy love."
"This is just getting creepy, Jay."
Jared ignores him. "Yes, I would bring you back to America so that you could be on display in a museum, but then you would reveal to me that you were alive and I would love you despite your being gross and mummified, such is my devotion."
"God, you're a moron," Jensen mutters, but he picks up the box on the end table next to the couch, the one full of push pins, and picks one out, moving up to stick it through Egypt on the map.
Jensen marks off every place they go like this. So far there are pins all over the map: the north pole (where Jared was an abominable snowman, so Jensen's really got no place to be upset about the mummy thing), New Zealand (no way we're not going to Middle Earth, Jared says, and Jensen tells him that he really needs to stop watching so many old movies), 45 of the 50 states.
"How about Paris?" he says when he settles back into his spot. "How's Paris doing these days?"
"Oh, you know, thriving."
"Thriving?" Jensen snickers. "Thriving through the apocalypse?"
"They've made a real art out of survivalist fashion. The things Pierre Lacroix can do with a trash bag and some empty cans of Spam."
"Oh, you are a homo."
Jared nods proudly. "Through thick and thin, mon cher."
"And you fled America when you realized we were just not going to be up to your fashion standards during this whole apocalypse thing, only to meet me there."
"What are you doing in France, if you're so butch?"
"Hold on I'm thinking," Jensen says. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers. "Got it. I hid out in the caves of France to avoid the nuclear fallout, then walked to Paris when I heard there were people there."
"Where do we meet?" Jared asks, sitting up.
Jensen grins. "Stranded on top of the Eiffel Tower, of course. The radiation zombies are too lazy to climb that many stairs, and we're the only two people who figured this out. So we live up there, returning to the ground only on occasion for food and when you drag me to fashion shows."
"This is brilliant. You dream us out of being stuck underground only to strand us over ground on the world's ugliest architectural structure."
"You're impossible to please," Jensen murmurs. "I thought you'd prefer being above ground. Closer to the stars, right?"
"Not high enough to make any kind of perceptible difference," Jared says, just to be a spoilsport.
"Wanna go to Mars, Jared?" Jensen kisses him and smiles. "You should be an astronaut. Up there in the stars. Why aren't you? You love them. You're smart enough. The guys on the space station still get to avoid dying if the bombs went off."
Jared shrugs. "I wasn't recruited by NASA, I was recruited by Jim. Anyway, being an astronaut is about as useful as climbing the Eiffel Tower. You don't actually get closer to the stars. Not on Mars, either. They're too far for us puny humans to make a difference."
Jensen frowns. "I'd take you to see them."
Jared shakes his head. "Stars are like people. You don't want to get too close. They burn you up when you get too close. That's what I always used to like about them. I could always trust them not to…"
Jensen's fingers stroke gently over his cheek and Jared laughs uncomfortably, looking away. Jensen's too close right now, looking at him like he can read Jared's mind, and as much as Jared loves that about him, it still scares him sometimes. He used to be so safe from shit like this.
"I'll take you to Ecuador," Jensen says. "We went there on our honeymoon. You'll love it, Jared. All these animals you can't even imagine, and at night. Maybe you don't get closer to the stars, but even I could tell how many more there were out. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful."
"I had a boyfriend in college who said the same thing," Jared says, which is kind of an exaggeration, because Osric hadn’t been his boyfriend. He was just a cool guy Jared dated until he asked Jared where 'this' was going and Jared had said 'hopefully to the bedroom,' and Jared never got why he stopped answering Jared's calls after that until right now. "But he was studying astrology, I don't think he knew I would care. He went abroad and wouldn't talk about anything else when he got back."
"He was right," Jensen says, his fingers moving lazily on Jared's arm. "I wish I could take you there."
Jared shifts in his arms and smiles at him. "We could go to Alaska and see the northern lights. I wouldn't be able to decide what to look at, you or the borealis. You're just that pretty."
Jensen huffs out a laugh and pushes Jared's shoulder. "Fine, make a joke out of it." He stands up, sticking pins into Paris, Ecuador, and Alaska and then walking to the door. "I'm gonna start up dinner, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jared says, smiling as he watches Jensen leave.
The smile drops as soon as Jensen's out of the room, and he fiddles his fingers, glaring jealously at the map as if it's competition. He wonders what it means that Jensen loves this so much, if it's just a way to pass time, or if Jensen really is that desperate to get out. If he needs Paris and Greece and Rome to be happy and in love, because Jared doesn't, all he needs is Jensen. He takes a red pin and drives it through Texas, right over where their silo is. It's the only place he can really believe in love. The only place he needs, though.
Jensen sticks his head back into the room. "Did you want burgers or-?" He stops when he sees Jared messing with the map, and Jared steps back, wondering if Jensen will be upset. The pin over Texas-that's not how this works, and he knows it. But when Jensen stops by his side to look and sees what Jared's done, his smile goes all warm and gooey and he turns to Jared with a fond expression, like he knows exactly what it means and likes it. Jared stops wondering for a few seconds if he's enough for Jensen, because Jensen kisses him like he's too much.
Of course, everything has to go wrong eventually. Life is not perfect, not forever, and it has been for longer than Jared deserves.
It happens on their third anniversary. Jensen brings the box of Twinkies out, frowning for once instead of his usual smile. "There's only enough for one more year after this," he says.
Which, okay, bummer, Jared thinks, because it's a nice tradition and he likes it. But he can live without Twinkies. The only thing he cannot live without is Jensen. So he makes some joke and brushes it off and tries to pretend Jensen's smile doesn’t falter as soon as he starts to turn away.
The rest of the day goes on without a hitch, so Jared thinks it was just a weird moment until they're drifting off to sleep a few nights later.
"Do you ever wonder what happened up there?"
Jared shrugs, Jensen's head moving against his chest as he does so. "Not really. I figure we'll know when we need to know."
Jensen rises to his elbows and watches Jared interestedly. "You really aren't curious about it at all?"
"Well, sure," Jared says. "I guess. But what are we gonna do about it, go back up and check?"
He's laughing the suggestion off when Jensen nods. "Yes. I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I think we should."
A chill runs through Jared, nuclear winter in his veins. "What do you mean? We can't just go back up."
"Why not?" Jensen asks.
"We've got orders," Jared replies. "They told us not to do anything until-"
"We're scientists, not soldiers. We're supposed to question, not follow orders." Jensen smiles. "We could see the stars."
"We do see the stars," Jared answers weakly. "All the time."
Jensen laughs. "Ah, come on, Jay. You know what I mean. We could see the real stars, have a real oak tree, live in a real house. Maybe even eat real food on our anniversaries."
It doesn't matter that Jensen's tone is playful. Or maybe that makes it worse. This isn't real to Jensen. What they have isn't real to Jensen. Jared's never had anything this real, and Jensen's just tired of playing along.
He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it. All the things they've made up stories about. Kissing Jensen on the rim of the Grand Canyon, the sun sinking behind layers of weathered rock; spitting off the Empire State Building while Jensen hides his face and tries to pretend he isn't laughing as he scolds Jared and drags him away from the edge; a house, just a little yellow farmhouse with a busted wooden fence and a tire swing in the front yard, some kid with Jensen's eyes running up to him and calling him dad.
They're nice images, but Jared can't grasp any of them long enough for them to stick, long enough for them to seem like real possibilities. They evaporate behind memories of what life is really like up there: endless dinners alone in front of the television, his parents downstairs, not wanting to see him at their party; Jensen surrounded by friends and family, the people he's missed so much he's itching to run back up, and slowly forgetting Jared.
Jensen tells him all the time how much they would love him, how well he would get along with Chris or how his mother would take to him instantly, one look at those puppy dog eyes and five minutes to see how Jared appreciates a good meal and Jared would be her favorite son.
Jared's already more attached to the fantasy than he wants to let on. He yearns to be a welcome part of Jensen's family: to have a spot reserved every year at the Thanksgiving table, to sit next to that worn armchair Jensen's Pa has owned since Jensen was a baby and talk to him about baseball as if that's just a normal thing to do. Like people do with their dads, when their dads want anything to do with them.
But he knows how it would really go. He's seen pictures of Mrs. Ackles, has come to love that kind, worn face Jensen keeps in his wallet. He can't bear the thought that she'll be the one to pull Jensen aside and ask him if he's kidding himself, if he can actually compare Jared to what he had before and pretend he's happy. Maybe it'll be Chris, some night when he's had one drink too many and can't keep the thought in. More than likely, Jensen won't need to hear it from any of them. He's a smart guy. He'll be done with Jared before Jared gets a chance to even try to charm the friends and family.
It's a damn long time before Jared can trust himself to answer with a steady voice.
"We can't go up there, we don't know what's happened," says Jared, because he's not above keeping Jensen simply by virtue of the fact that Jensen has no choice. "They could have all burned up so quickly they didn’t even have time to tell us to retaliate. We might find a barren wasteland-radiation will poison us, we'll get sick. If we even open the hatch we'll let it in. We can't just risk that."
"It might be the same as when we left up there," Jensen counters. "For all we know, people are driving around half a mile above our heads, business as usual, and we're down here acting like the world has ended."
"It wasn't such a great world," Jared mutters. "I thought ours was a pretty good alternative."
"This isn't any kind of life," Jensen says. "Not for this long a time. It wasn't supposed to last this long. They can't really expect us to live down here forever."
"Why not?" Jared frowns. "Is this really so bad?"
Jensen's eyebrows draw together and he climbs up, trying to kiss Jared, but for the first time ever, Jared turns away from him. "Jared, you're taking this the wrong way. I'm not saying that this is bad." He takes Jared's hand and brings it to his lips. "Hey, look at me. This is great. This is so much better than it has any right to be, all things considered. And I do love you. You make me happy."
Jared laughs coolly, shaking his head. He can't help thinking: Jensen signed up for this, knowing all along that living down here for years was a possibility. When it was going to be with her, that was fine with him. Hell, he'd made plans to raise his kids and everything. It's only him that Jensen doesn't want to be stuck down here with, and damned if Jared isn't jealous of the dead and unborn. "Not enough, apparently."
He doesn’t even know why he's surprised or disappointed. He always used to be so good at reminding himself that he's not enough for Jensen. He got lazy over the last three years. He started to let himself believe Jensen didn't think so.
"How can you say that?" Jensen asks, brushing hair away from Jared's eyes. "It's because of you that I want to go back. It's because I love you and I want a life with you that I'm even thinking of this."
"You can't go up. You'll get sick. You'll die. I won't let you risk yourself."
Jensen shakes his head. "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Even if I do, I'll live for years before the sickness gets to me. I'm gonna die someday regardless, might as well be radiation."
"Don't fucking joke about this," Jared snaps.
"You know I'm the last person in the world to joke about something like that. But I mean it. I don't think the world ended up there, Jared. You, the way I feel about you, it's reminded me that people aren't all bad. I believe they found a way, if not to peace to at least some temporary solution. But if they didn't-well, you and me being the last people on Earth isn't any better to bear in the dark than it is in the sunlight, is it?"
"Yes," Jared says. "At least this way there's a chance-"
"There's a chance if we risk it, Jared. And it could be great. They'll be pissed at us for disobeying and coming back and putting the operation in jeopardy, maybe, but we won't be ending the world. I don't want to blow it up anymore; I want to live in it with you. Just think, we can find new lives-Jared, you could play your songs for people. They've gotten so good, it's not right that no one else gets to hear them. And me-I think the part of my life that belonged to this kind of work is behind me, and I think I'm finally okay with that."
It occurs to him that there is a very easy solution to this problem. All he has to do is walk into the next room, put one finger's worth of pressure down on that launch button, and end this conversation for good. He could keep Jensen all to himself, and the fact that it's so tempting doesn't scare or surprise him as much as it should.
"I can't talk about this anymore," Jared says, pushing Jensen off of him. "I'm gonna sleep on the cot tonight."
Jensen tries to catch him by the wrist, but Jared tugs his hand back and leaves. It's been years since they tucked the cot away, but Jared brings it out to the launch control room and sets it under the stars. Under the stars Jensen made for him, which are his favorite ones, even if Jensen's outgrown them.
He hears the door creak open early the next day, but Jared is already sitting up, caffeinated and halfway through the daily tests. He's been up since what would be the crack of dawn, if such things still existed, trying his damnedest to keep his mind and hands busy, his finger off the trigger.
Sleep didn't really happen the night before, half because he couldn't turn his brain off and half because the damn cot really is that uncomfortable. Remembering that Jensen managed to sleep on it for months just to avoid Jared only made him feel more sour about the whole thing.
Jared doesn't turn toward the noise-it's not like there are a whole lot of options on who it could be coming in. "Go away. I've got it under control today."
Jensen takes the chair next to Jared anyway, swiveling so it's facing him and sliding his hand onto Jared's wrist. "Morning."
"I said go away," Jared replies, keeping his eyes glued to the graph he's working on and pointedly not letting himself look at Jensen. "I'm working."
"You?" Jensen says with a laugh. "You're working? Jared of the 'who cares if we fuck instead of recording data it's not like anyone is going to want to see our charts after the world ends' Padaleckis is too busy working?"
"You bet." Jared turns a page over to mark something, shaking Jensen's fingers off of him.
Jensen is as stubborn as Jared is, so he leans in, his lips brushing Jared's ear. "We could do much more fun things than work, couldn't we?"
"Not really," Jared answers. "Maybe later."
Jensen sits back, letting his hand drop onto his thigh. "I can't believe it. You're actually mad at me."
"Mad," Jared says, trying to make himself laugh. "Who's mad? You had an idea. It was a shitty idea. The conversation's over."
"Oh, is that how it happened?" Jensen asks, a little bit of heat now creeping into his voice.
Jared finally looks up at him, his expression tight, and he meets Jensen's eyes, challenging him to disagree. Jensen's attitude changes completely, from being somewhat amused by Jared's bad mood to pulling back, like he didn't realize until just now that this isn't just something they're going to joke their way out of.
"Jared?" he says, his voice much softer. "Why are you so upset about this? It was just an idea."
"Maybe to you it was just an idea," Jared replies. He looks up through the window at the warhead and laughs, shaking his head. "You don't even care what it was to me."
"I don't-of course I care." Jensen is looking at Jared now like he doesn't even recognize him, and Jared knows, he knows he must sound crazy to Jensen. But Jensen never knew Jared before, he's never seen the way Jared pushes people away. He was never supposed to see it.
"It's okay, right?" Jared tells him, trying to smile, trying to be soft and open and all the things he has to be to compete with the rest of the world. "We're both adults, and adults have disagreements. We can just forget it ever happened and be happy again."
"I can't forget it happened," Jensen replies. "It's what I want. Even if you don't want it. Even if we decide not to do it. We need to talk about it. We're partners, aren't we? We can at least have the damn conversation before you say no."
"I'll give you anything else," Jared responds. "Anything else, Jensen. Please, not-not what you said you wanted yesterday. Pick something else."
"What are you scared of?" Jensen says. He puts his hand on the back of Jared's neck, and Jared closes his eyes, his whole body so desperate to relax under the touch. "You think I can't take down a few zombies to keep you safe?"
Jared looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help that his lips turn up just a bit when he sees Jensen's coaxing expression.
"I'm not scared of zombies," he says in a petulant tone.
That makes Jensen grin like he's getting somewhere, and he pulls Jared's face closer to his by his neck. "Talk to me, Jay. Just talk to me. Tell me what your problem with it is, and if you still want to stay, we'll stay. This doesn't have to be something we fight over."
The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill, but then Jensen leans in and kisses him, pulls back with one of those adoring looks on his face, and Jared can't do it. Jensen looks at him like he's the goddamn sun sometimes. It won't last a minute up there, not once Jensen remembers how low he's been settling.
Instead, he hands Jensen the clipboard with the graphs he's been working on and gives Jensen a forced grin. "Here, you finish these since you're so eager to be in here. I'm gonna go make lunch."
Jensen's mouth opens in shock, and then his expression shuts down as he watches Jared get up to go. "Yeah, okay," he says, his voice resigned, and Jared wants to take everything back and give Jensen anything to make him smile again. But that's not an option, not really, because it would mean taking the first step to losing him.
When Jensen comes out for lunch, it's his turn to give Jared the cold shoulder. He's not angry, not exactly, but he keeps his conversation short and withdrawn, and when Jared tries to lighten the mood, Jensen only looks betrayed and stays quiet or walks off entirely.
They eat dinner separately for the first time in years, and when Jared is done washing up, he finds Jensen in the living room, gazing off into space with a broken expression that reminds Jared too much of when they first got down here. When he was still mourning his wife, and Jared wonders if Jensen is mourning him, if in his attempt to keep things the way they are he's going to do just the opposite.
Delicately, Jared takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from where Jensen is and waits. Even now, just hearing Jensen breathing next to him beats out the quiet hum of the generators anywhere else in the silo, and maybe Jensen feels the same way, because he doesn't get up, doesn't say anything, just sits with Jared for a long time, staring off.
"Do you still love me?" Jared asks after a while. "If I still say no. Have I made it so you can't love me?"
Jensen turns his face toward Jared then, not looking surprised by the question, just sad and weighed down, and almost like he's aged. Then he does the last thing in the world Jared's expecting, still without saying a word. He reaches out, puts his hand in Jared's lap, and waits for Jared to take it.
When Jared does, Jensen gives him a weak smile, and Jared breathes just a little easier. He knows what it means and wonders what he would have to do to make Jensen keep loving him once they reach the surface, if he even has it in him or if his instinct is right and he shouldn't even try.
Jared doesn't sleep much the next night, either. Jensen comes out to find him when he's changed into a loose shirt and boxers, doesn't vocalize the invitation, but waits to find out what Jared is going to do.
"I need another night to think," Jared tells him, pointing toward the launch control room. "It's just-I need to be alone for a little bit."
Jensen licks his lips and nods, looking down at the floor. He turns toward their room, but stops at the threshold, calling out and stopping Jared in his tracks.
"I'm always going to," he says, and Jared doesn't even have to ask to know that he's answering the question Jared had posed hours ago. "I just don't understand why you don't trust me to."
Jared watches Jensen retreat into their bedroom then, closing the door behind him with a click that echoes through the silo halls. It leaves him with nothing but himself, his own ugly thoughts and wishes, and he stares up at the glow-in-the-dark sky, trying to parse out what the right thing to do is.
Deep down, he knows he's being selfish. He tells himself it's the radiation, the violence up there, and the chance that Jensen will be incinerated the second he opens the door. But that's not true. He's more scared the world is still up there, healthy and happy and ready to take them both back with open arms.
It's not because Jared doesn't want what Jensen wants, either. He misses the surface sometimes, and the only reason he prefers life down here is because it got him Jensen. If he had Jensen up there, it would be a better life, he can admit to that.
The problem is that he can't have Jensen up there. Not forever. Probably not even for very long. Maybe Jensen thinks he loves Jared now, but Jared hasn't forgotten who they were when they first came down here. Jensen can love, he has so many times in his life. He can love like any person can love, intensely and without the world having to end first.
Not Jared. Jared's only ever loved one thing, but it's strong and he can't live without it. All he has going for him now is that he is-at least as far as Jensen is concerned-very literally the last man on Earth, and maybe Jared can hold onto Jensen down here, where he's got no competition, but on the surface, anyone could come along. Anyone could steal Jensen from him, and why wouldn't Jensen fall for someone else? Jared's nothing special. He couldn't even make his own parents love him. He can't keep someone like Jensen.
For one brief moment, he finds himself sitting up on the cot, staring at the work station across the room, and he's sure. The big red button on that control board, he's going to press it. He can end the world, and then Jensen really won't have a choice. Once they know for sure that the bombs have gone off, they'll have to wait years for the radiation to decay. Years, he could keep Jensen for years. What the fuck is the fate of everyone else on the planet compared to that?
He doesn't realize he's crying until the door opens, light filtering in from the hallway. Jensen sits down on the floor next to the cot and presses his lips against Jared's forehead. "Come back to bed, Jay," he says softly. "Come back to me. I don't want to fight. We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up, okay? I won't again, I promise."
Jared wants to take that promise and hold him to it, but he knows he can't. No, as soon as Jensen brought it up, the decision was as good as made. He can't keep Jensen here against his will. He wants to so bad, but he's got no right and he loves Jensen too much to do it, anyway. "We'll leave tomorrow."
"You don't want to go," Jensen says. "I'm not going to make you."
"But I can't make you stay, either." Jared wipes at his eyes and tries to get his voice under control. "So what are we gonna do?"
"I can't do it without you, Jared. And I don't just mean I need your permission to risk opening the hatch and letting radiation in, because, obviously, but that's just not what I mean. I mean I don't want to do it without you. I never envisioned a life up there that didn't have you in it."
"I would follow you to the end of the earth," Jared finally admits. "But I'm scared you won't be with me when I get there."
Jensen's expression shifts, like he finally gets why Jared's so upset, and he sucks in a breath. "God, no, Jared. Jared. No. You think I-you don't know yourself very well at all. And if you think I'm going to forget about you, about everything we've shared in the last three and a half years, you don't know me very well, either."
Jared reaches out, grabbing a fistful of Jensen's shirt and shaking his head desperately. "No, I do. You're the only one, but I know everything about you. Please, that's all I know."
"Then you know you can trust me." Jensen kisses Jared softly, sliding in next to him and cradling Jared's head against his chest. "Trust me, Jay. I know it's risky to go up there, but I want to risk it. I think we can be happy. I think it's worth the chance."
"Nothing's worth the chance of losing you," Jared replies. "I just-I can't lose you."
"There's no chance of that," Jensen promises. "Not the way that you think, at least."
Jensen stands up, holding onto Jared's hand as he does so. "Come back to bed with me, babe. We'll decide in the morning."
Jared nods sulkily and follows Jensen to their room. When they get there, Jensen kisses him slowly and pushes him into bed. He covers every inch of Jared with his mouth, whispering praises that Jared doesn't think are true, but Jensen is so meticulous as he lists every sweet thing that Jared can't imagine him wasting the time unless he means it. Jensen's not a friend of inefficiency.
By the time he's done, Jared really doesn't remember what he was so upset about. Well, he does, but he knows Jensen is right-that if he really loves Jensen, he should trust him, too. So the next morning when Jensen comes out for breakfast, he finds two plates on the table, the last Twinkies they have sitting on them.
Jared doesn't have to tell him what that means. Jensen looks from the food to Jared, his eyes wide and shining. The smile on his face is like nothing Jared's ever seen in his life. "You're sure?"
Jared nods, sitting across from him. "I'm still half-convinced we're gonna get doused in radiation and grow extra heads, but. I spent a lot of time thinking last night, and I finally decided…" Jensen watches Jared, hanging onto his every word, so Jared stops containing his smirk. "I decided we could think of some pretty creative ways to use extra heads, if you know what I'm saying."
Jensen snorts. "You came down here spouting shitty pick-up lines and that's how you're determined to leave, huh?"
He laughs, but then he clears his throat and makes himself look Jensen square in the eye. He's terrified, and his hands are shaking, and it's kind of hilarious considering they're smack in the middle of nuclear apocalypse and that's the farthest thing from what's terrifying him. "If you have hope and faith and believe in people enough to take the chance that things are still okay up there, I would have to be pretty low not to have a little faith in you."
Jensen takes his hand and kisses the back of it. "We're going to laugh about this with our grandkids one day," he whispers. "You and me and our hole in the ground and the time we thought the world ended."
"Yeah," Jared agrees, not sure he really does believe it, but training himself to let go of the doubt. "I guess we will."
Breakfast passes quietly, the intensity of what's coming hanging between them. Neither of them wants to talk about what they might or might not find up there, the fact that they're risking walking out into a wasteland or discovering they spent the last three years in hiding for no reason. They're doing this, and if they're doing this there's no point in scaring each other more about it.
They spend about two hours packing and another hour bickering over what they are or are not going to take: Jensen's map (how are you going to keep the pins in place, genius?), a thousand newspapers worth of crossword puzzles, four notebooks full of new songs, and, after Jared takes the back of a hammer to the ceiling for a solid half hour, a small chip of the night sky.
Their eyes lock as Jared releases the air-tight door leading to the hatch they entered from, and that's it, there's no turning back. It's as final as if he'd launched Baby after all, but Jared's pretty sure he chose the right button to press.
It's a long climb back up to the surface, the sparse metal mine-shaft elevator that originally serviced the silo rusted out in the century between when it was built and when they started to update it, and apparently fixing it was not high enough on the priority list for it to get taken care of before the attack on San Francisco threw off the timeline.
Jared looks down as they make their way back up the twisting stairs, despite Jensen telling him not to. It's not vertigo that makes him move slower every time he sees the distance between them and the ground so much as the same worries and anxieties that almost had him ending the world.
Jensen catches him eventually, turning to say something to Jared and grabbing his hand instead, forcing Jared to look up at him. He leans in and whispers, "We're almost there. Are you ready?"
Jared nods, follows him up into the landing and down the hall toward the exit.
He kisses Jensen one last time in the safety of their silo, and then, hand in hand, they step out into the sunlight.