Open Heart Dentistry // chapter 4
This chapter contains a picture that's NSFW at the end of the fic.
This chapter contains a picture that's NSFW at the end of the fic.
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“Dad!”, Jensen says in greeting, biting back a snide comment about how he’s not a five-year-old anymore needing to be checked on after two sick days and puts out his hand. Alan ignores the gesture and pulls his son into a hug, squashing the air out of the younger man. “I see your strength’s coming back,” huffs Jensen and Alan laughs before he lets go of Jensen, patting him on the back one last time.
“I’m feeling better than I have in years,” Alan agrees. “Nothing says live life to the fullest like a little heart attack. So, are you ready for the interview?”
“What interview?” Jensen asks, baffled, rummaging through his rattled brain. He may be a little overhung again.
“The one I wrote you an e-mail about yesterday morning? I tried to call you last night but you didn’t pick up so, um. Listen, Jen, I know this comes as a surprise, obviously, and maybe I should have talked to you before I-“ Alan stops and gestures for his son to follow him in the empty rec room when he realizes Sam’s pretending not to be listening to them. Closing the door he continues, “It’s time for me to go back to work but if I won’t slow down a little your mom’s gonna get me before the next heart attack can, so I’ll need a partner to run the office. Of course I was hoping that it would be you, but you’re obviously unhappy working here, and it’s not like I didn’t know it before, so I-I’m looking for another partner.”
Alan looks at Jensen uncertainly, eyes asking for a sign of understanding. Jensen sits down, arms crossed in front of his chest. Something inside of Jensen orders him to protest, to jump up and tell his father that he won’t back down and that he wants to be his partner and, ultimately, successor. But Alan’s giving him an out. Jensen bites his tongue, knowing that it’s his sense of duty speaking and not what he really wants. It hurts, literally and figuratively. Finally, he looks up, locking eyes with his father, and says “it’s okay.”
Alan smiles at him, a hint of sadness in his eyes, but mostly, pride and love. “An old friend recommended this young dentist, Alona Tal. She graduated top of her class and has some experience working in a clinic. Also, she lectures on the management of acute postoperative dental pain. Misha once met her at a symposium about alternative pain therapy and has been gushing about her ever since. I think, he also introduced her to his wife and the three of them-“ Alan coughs slightly, “whatever. Point is, I want you to get to know her and tell me what you think about her, in case you-“ Alan pauses again, “ in case you want to choose another road, professionally. You can always call it off, of course. You’ll always be my first choice, Jensen. You know that, right?”
Before his father can get teary-eyed, Jensen gets up and hugs his old man briefly. “I know, dad.”
“I’m very grateful you took over, Jensen, but, above everything else, I want you to be happy and-“
“I know,” Jensen nods.
There's a knock on the door and both men straighten. “Come in,” Alan says and Samantha peeks inside, oddly reserved, to tell them that Mrs. Tal’s waiting. Alan follows her to welcome the applicant personally but before he’s gone, Jensen asks him to wait a second.
Feeling like, finally, he’s able to breathe free again, he says “thanks dad”. Alan smiles back at him, both men’s relief nearly palpable between them.
On Friday, Jared’s back for his last caries treatment. After that, it’ll be tooth crowns and implants, equating to several appointments of reconstruction once the progressive decay of Jared’s dentition’s stopped.
More importantly, it’s the last time Jensen will meet Jared.
Curtly informing all his other patients that his father will be back on Monday, Jensen spends the day observing the wide range of human expressions of relief and pure joy, usually followed by his patient’s mumbled excuses for failing to hide their emotions. There’s no way he, on the other hand, could properly express his emotions about the fact that this is his last day at work either. Due to the fact that Alona’s relocated weeks ago for private reasons - Jensen doesn’t even wanna know - she’s going to start on Monday too so that there’s no reason Jensen has to stay.
It’s fucking awesome.
Jensen has no idea why he’s even grumpier than before. Or why he’s not going bright red with shame when Jared enters the room, the last patient he’ll have in this office. He isn’t even angry, all the things he felt like hurling at Jared for making him wanting to give up his principles, suddenly unimportant. All there’s left at the end of the day is the hazy feeling of sadness and regret and Jensen knows that it’s got nothing to do with being unemployed again and everything with Jared.
Jensen pretends it’s all business as usual, both men ignoring the events of their last meeting in front of Jensen’s staff. Jared’s already deeply relaxed when Jensen sits down, mumbling a quiet “hey” and blinking before his eyes close again. Jensen swallows the lump in his throat and goes to work. He allows himself the occasional sideways glance, eyes tracing the chiseled curve of Jared’s relaxed face and the contours of solid muscle showing through Jared’s Henley.
When he’s done, he hurries out of the room while Jared’s still spitting out though every single cell in Jensen’s body tries to urge him back, to kiss and hold on and not let go.
Good thing he’s not a sentimental pussy, Jensen mentally applauds himself and blinks the soaring onslaught of emotions away.
“You didn’t tell him,” Misha comments as he pulls on his jacket, leaving it to Jensen and Sam to do the final paperwork and preparations necessary for Alan and Alona to have an optimal start come Monday morning.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jensen mumbles petulantly. He already formally thanked them both for their work, so, in Jensen’s opinion, everything’s said.
Misha pauses for a moment, just standing there, waiting for Jensen’s and Samantha’s undivided attention, and puts his wisdom face on. Jensen swears under his breath. Great. He’d hoped he’d make it out of the office without one last quote of some scrawny Asian guy in a giant scarf.
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage,” Misha recites gravely.
“Let me guess, the Dalai Lama?” Jensen huffs.
“Close,” Misha says earnestly. “Justin Bieber.”
Sam looks up, puzzled. “Really?”
“Nah,” Misha smirks. “Lao Tzu.” He blinks and waves them goodbye. Jensen rolls his eyes.
“What does that even mean?” Jensen grumbles, “love, courage. This is a dental office, not Hallmark.”
“Well, probably he wanted to encourage you to risk something for your love, not run from it.”
“I’m single. Happily so, thank you very much.”
“He really likes you, you know.”
“Misha?” Jensen frowns. “I really don’t think so.”
Sam rolls her eyes and lightly slaps the back of Jensen’s head, obviously thinking this was proper behavior now Jensen’s not her boss anymore. “Jared. Or do you think he stayed under your treatment because of your bedside manner? I really don’t think so.”
Jensen doesn’t have to wait long before feeling the telltale blush creeping under his skin. “I’m a good dentist.”
Samantha’s face softens. A little. “You are. I know we had our differences but I’ve never doubted your competence, Jensen. You aren’t made to work with people. You did it anyway and under much rougher circumstances than in our fancy office and I respect that. Actually,” she smiles, “I liked you from the start. You were four and rearranged the office supplies on the desk so every pen lay parallel to the edge the day I started working for your father. It was adorable,” she pauses, “-ish.”
Jensen cannot not smile in return. “You should see the storage room. I ordered everything alphabetically.”
“I know,” Sam says, “it’s neat. Anal, but neat. Now, how about you start straightening out your personal life?”
The none of your business is on the tip of Jensen’s tongue but he bites it back. Instead he puts the last patient files in order and says “I’m happy.”
“You’re not.”
Jensen sighs, his shoulders slumping visibly. “No I’m not.”
Gently squeezing Jensen’s shoulder, Sam says “call him. I’m sure he’d love to go out with you. A friend of mine knows one of the waitresses working at the same restaurant as him and she says he’s gay and single. Don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect anything, my friend was very subtle. And don’t tell me you aren’t interested in men, this is 2012 and no one-“
“We fucked,” Jensen exclaims. It’s out before Jensen can hold himself back and the moment it’s done, he fervently wishes he had shut up.
More than that, he said it out loud. I slept with a man. To somebody who’s practically family. Using bad language. Jensen feels a little sick, though not nearly as sick as he supposed he would. He briefly considers rewording but decides to not repeat it. Instead he mumbles “sorry.”
“But that’s fantastic!,” Sam laughs and slaps his shoulder. “So are you two-“
“No, no,” Jensen interrupts, “He’s not my-“ he doesn’t say boyfriend though it’s hanging in the air. “It was only sex. It’s complicated. Or, actually, it’s not. He’s-I’m not-It’s complicated.”
Raising an eye brow, Sam says “it always is. Pulling oneself together and going for what really counts despite all odds is what separates happy people from dead people rotting in their condos for months without anybody noticing.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Sam smiles and hugs Jensen briefly, making Jensen tense. “It really is.” She smiles and grabs her purse. “Will you lock up?”
Jensen nods and breathes deeply when he hears the door close. Five more minutes to say goodbye to the storage room and he’s out of here for good.
Guess I shouldn’t be surprised your dad had to tell me. Disappointing though. Good luck, Jensen. JP.
Jensen receives the text two hours after Jared’s first appointment with Dr. Ackles senior. He’s curled up on his couch, still in his pajama bottoms and slightly buzzed though it’s not even 5 pm, waiting. Of course Jared couldn’t let it go without one last message.
Finger hovering over the button, Jensen downs his last drink in one gulp, then he deletes Jared’s last message and every one he got before. On his way to the shower he empties the half empty bottle of whiskey in the sink.
Time to start over.
“Wow, that must be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen you doing. And that includes walking in on you and that one-legged marathon runner and the unspeakable night at Mardi Grass that shall never ever be spoken of again. Never.”
“Leave me alone,” Jared whines and pours a little more Amaretto into his Häagen Dazs, then shoves a big spoon full of chocolate ice cream mixed with the almond flavor of the sweet liquor in his mouth. He’s too depressed to savor the joy of eating ice cold sweets without pain radiating from his formerly rotten teeth.
“He still didn’t answer your text?” Chad asks, trying to not insult Jared’s feelings by laughing at him though his roommate’s looking like the heroine of a Bridget Jones movie in one of her less stellar moments. Well, if Ms. Jones were a ripped giant starting to smell and showing what must be worth three days of stubble.
Chad fetches a beer from the fridge, definitely the last one before he’ll go to bed after a long night of clubbing, and joins Jared at the kitchen table. Snagging Jared’s mobile phone, he reads the message Jared had sent three days ago and raises an eye brow. “That doesn’t sound like you want an answer, good luck and all. Maybe you should try again if you want him to react. Despite the fact that you claim to think he’s an asshole, of course.”
“He is an asshole. And a wimp.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Can’t be said often enough.”
“And still you’re going all Katherine Heigl over him. Dude must be a fantastic lay.” Chad takes a big swig. “And that wasn’t me wanting to encourage you to explain in detail, really not.” Chad shakes his head and shudders.
Jared shrugs. “It’s his turn. Our last night was a disaster and there’s no way I’ll do shit before he apologizes for being a complete and utter asshole. Again. And did I mention he’s a fucking asshole?”
“Once or twice.”
“That’s ‘cause he’s the biggest asshole that ever assholed.”
Chad sighs. “And still you’re stuffing your face with your own weight in ice cream. So what now? You refuse to make a move. He’s too much of an asshole and coward to say sorry. Doesn’t sound like happily ever after, to be honest.”
“It really doesn’t, huh?”
“Sorry.”
“Fine,” Jared says and licks the spoon clean, “then it’s over and I won’t waste one more thought on him.”
“Uh-huh.” Chad doesn’t sound convinced. “That epiphany came kinda quick.”
Jared visibly straightens up. “No. It’s pointless. I mean, being an asshole is not all there is, he’s got a good side too but it’s damn well hidden and if he doesn’t want me to see behind the curtain I gotta accept that. I won’t waste my time on a guy who doesn’t appreciate me when I could be out there and meet my future husband. His loss, right?”
Chad nods as expected of him. “Absolutely.”
Getting up and slapping his flat palm on the kitchen counter to emphasize his decision, Jared tells Chad good night and goes to bed.
Chad pulls the Häagen Dazs container near and puts a big spoon full of ice cream in his mouth and yeah, no, liquor, chocolate ice cream and beer? Tastes even less convincing than Jared’s vow to forget Jensen was.
2 months later
Jensen’s life is flawless. Flaw-less. He’d use a word with more syllables if the flawlessness of his life would allow him enough time to think about such banalities.
But there’s his new job, a sweet position in the research division of the market-leading pharmaceutical company specializing on dental prosthesis with A1 benefits and zero patient contact. His team’s small and consisting of only three, rather reticent coworkers who leave him alone and appreciate him for his scientific sagacity and his field experience with complicated injuries treated under difficult circumstances.
Moreover, Jensen’s workplace is in his old neighborhood, only a stone’s throw away from his father’s office. He’d have preferred to leave town, state even, but the job offer had just been too good. So Jensen moved nonetheless - albeit only two blocks - telling his family the new condo was much better than the fully furnished one he’d rented in a hurry when he came back. In reality he needed at least a little change of scenery to be able to leave the past months behind.
He’d called Chris to help him move his meager belongings, telling himself that he’s doing a good deed offering the struggling artist/actor/whatever-cashes-some-money an opportunity to make some bucks. But when they were done after hardly two hours and Jensen wordlessly pushed some twenties in the other man’s hand, Chris shoved it back at him, called Jensen a friggin’ emotional dyslexic and gruffly told him to stop being a tool and get his ass in gear.
Asking Steve over to help, Chris started assembling the still packaged pieces of furniture Jensen had delivered already despite his friend’s strident protest, shooting Jensen’s plan to do it on his own to shit. After half a day of ignoring manuals, heavy swearing and finally succeeding with only seven residual screws, Chris and Steve saved Jensen from setting up camp in an empty condo. In the end, Chris even ordered the obligatory pizza himself. So, yeah, looks like Jensen’s new life even includes old friends - no matter how hard he tries to get rid of them. He thinks that might be okay too.
Also, he hasn’t heard anybody quoting a single granola-munching yoga freak in two months.
Flaw-less.
So it’s kind of puzzling even to Jensen himself when on Tuesday, April 17th, just before midnight, he finds himself waiting in line at the post office, surrounded by tense people nervously glancing at the clock on the wall every few seconds. It’s getting even more puzzling when, after 10 minutes of progressing slower than a dead snail, he hears the guy standing behind coughing. Great. Now he’s gonna pay for a few minutes of innocent entertainment with the flu.
Flu guy coughs again. Jensen tries to take a step forward but there isn’t exactly much room and the hipster in front of him is too focused on filling out the crumpled form he’s balancing on his messenger bag to move.
“Um, Jensen?”
Jensen freezes. He knows that voice.
He turns around, hoping and praying he’s wrong but no such luck.
“Jared. I should have figured you’d be here tonight.” Says Jensen, trying to sound rather prosaic than shell-shocked. It works surprisingly well.
Jared smiles goofily, teeth perfect. “Wow, so you really wanted to see me, huh? Suave dating technique, man.” It’s supposed to be a joke but falls flat. Jared grimaces and Jensen looks in another direction. Awkward.
“So, um, I wouldn’t have pegged you a procrastinator,” Jared tries again.
“I’m not.”
“Right. You’re here on Tax Day hardly 15 minutes before the deadline because you want to post--?” He bends his neck to try to see the weirdly small piece of paper Jensen’s rolling nervously in his sweaty palms. “A postcard.” In one swift move, Jared snatches the card. “A postcard to request...”, Jared pauses, turns the card around and reads, “a free sample of TENA incontinence pads. Oh. Oh.”
And if Jensen’s body was too surprised to heat up when he saw Jared, it sure as hell gets the message now and gives Jensen the most appropriate flush possible for a man who’s just been caught ordering an adult incontinence product.
Ripping the card from Jared’s hands, Jensen panics and yells “I’m not incontinent” but falling immediately silent when about thirty heads turn his way.
“Fuck, man, I’m sorry,” Jared whispers, leaning in. “Shit, I really am. So, so sorry and if I can do anything-Um, listen, I guess you want to get out of here, so why don’t you give me the card and I’ll mail it for you?” Jared wants to take the culprit back but Jensen crumples it up in his clenched hand.
“I. Am. Not. Incontinent.” Jensen repeats, leaning in even more so he’s talking directly into Jared’s ear, emphasizing every word as much as possible while trying to be as quiet as possible. It sounds like a snake sizzling to put an assailant to route. “But I mailed my tax return already and this was the only mailable thing I could find in a trice. It came with a professional journal, I didn’t care for what it was, for Christ’s sake. See,” he brings enough distance between them to show Jared the backside of the card, “I didn’t even put my address down.”
“No,” Jared checks, “ you took Chris’.”
Jensen shrugs. “It’s a prank.”
“Bullshit. You aren’t the kind of guy who’s spending his nights playing childish pranks. Why are you here?”
“Because Chris is incontinent?” Jensen tries but Jared gives him the patented “don’t you dare try fucking with me, kid” expression only mothers and priests should be able to nail like that.
“Okay, fine,” Jensen relents, getting it out as fast as possible. “I’m here because seeing all those morons who suck so much at life that they can’t even file their tax returns in time while I accomplished that weeks ago cheers me up when I’m feeling down. Especially when they go stark crazy when I take my time to choose a special issue stamp. Happy now?”
Starring at Jensen flabbergasted, Jared says “wow, you really are an asshole.”
“Oh come on,” Jensen whispers, now really careful not to be overheard by the office full of procrastinators, “most of those losers are sending nothing but extension forms anyway. Serves them right.”
Holding up the envelope in his hand, Jared asks “losers like me?”
Jensen swallows, noticing a spike of lust mixed within the threat he’s starting to feel when Jared straightens, all growly and pissed. Fuck.
“What kind of person does that?” Jared rants so loud Jensen’s sure really everybody can hear it. “You’re jeopardizing people’s much needed tax returns here - in this economy! Do you even know what that means, depending on that money ‘cause it gets harder every year to make ends meet? To support a family, even if you’re not some posh dentist whose daddy probably paid for college and medical school but working in some blue collar job with no fucking benefits but bills piling up higher and higher? Do you have any fucking idea what that means, huh?”
Jensen hasn’t. He has no fucking clue. He saw soldiers die, he sure as hell knows how to make his own life miserable - no matter how flaw-less it is - but he indeed never ever had to think about money.
“Nobody’s forcing them to file in the last nick of time,” Jensen defends himself, albeit meekly, shoulders hunched and fists clenched in the pockets of his leather jacket. It’s not even the other people watching them with open curiosity now but the fact that, yes, Jared has a point and as much Jensen wants to deny it… Jared’s got a point. Period.
“No,” Jared agrees coldly, “nobody’s forced them to procrastinate. But who are you to decide how other people organize their lives?”
Blushing with shame, which is a slightly different but just as shiny shade of red, Jensen nods, coughs slightly and - in absence of anything he could say to make him look less like a complete and utter ass - turns around, every single confused and reproachful look following him outside like a dagger in his back.
Them - Jared - thinking he can’t hold his water suddenly seems like the lesser of two evils.
“An asshole,” Chad, Gen and Sebastian answer in unison, waving their beer bottles rhythmically in the air as they sing-song “asshole” for the umpteenth time.
“Exactly,” Jared agrees, pointing the tip of his knife at the group of friends from behind the kitchen counter. “Somebody who torpedoes innocent citizen’s attempts to file their tax returns is an asshole. I mean, I shouldn’t be shocked. He tortures people for a living.”
“To be fair, you’re much better now your teeth are refurbished. You’re actually preparing solid food instead of mushy desserts,” Genevieve interjects as she finishes setting the table for the four of them. “By the way, how much longer? I’m so hungry, I could eat your whole evil dentist.”
“I’m sure he’s toxic,” Jared grumbles and flips the chicken breasts over.
“I think it’s funny,” Chad says, which gains him a dirty look from Jared and suppressed giggles from the others. “Come on, the stamp thing is hilarious. It’s like a Monty Python sketch.”
“He gets his kicks by preventing other people to get their tax returns.”
“He probably just makes them nervous. The people working in post offices know the situation pretty damn well and won’t allow him to waste too much time… I guess. It’s not like he’s eating little children. However. It’s darn funny. And you got your post mark so everything’s peachy and we can finally talk about the interesting part of your little story. Namely, why can he still rile you up like this?”
“Because he’s-“
“-an asshole,” the others sing-song. It sounds a little more like a chant every time and they clink bottles to congratulate themselves.
“Must be a damn good-looking one,” Sebastian says and Gen makes a “you’ve got no idea” face.
“That good?” Sebastian asks but before Gen can answer Jared forcefully places two plates in front of them.
“Doesn’t mean he should get away with everything,” Jared argues.
When he finally sits down to eat, the door bell rings. Chad holds both his hands protectively over his steaming plate. “Dude, if you invited somebody else that’s your problem. I won’t share.”
Jared shrugs. Gen jumps up, saying “I got this” like she’s actually living here and rushes to open the door, yelling “and don’t you dare stealing from my plate, Chad” on the way.
When she returns, she looks like she’s trying to hide a smirk that tries to split her face but fails spectacularly. “Jay, you’ve got a visitor.” Stepping aside, she makes room for the man following and over towering her anyway. “Chad and Sebastian, meet Jensen. Jensen, meet Chad and Sebastian.” She turns to Jensen, offering her hand. “I’m Genevieve, by the way. We met at that Kane concert in autumn, or well, we didn’t exactly meet but I saw you. Anyway. Have a seat!”
“Um,” Jensen stammers, obviously feeling out of his depth considering the unexpected group of people, “I just wanted, um, talk to Jared for a moment so thanks but I don’t wanna sit down.”
“Of course you want to,” Gen chirps and tries to shoo Jensen towards the table but Jensen stays where he is like a stubborn horse, so Gen joins the others at the table, starring expectantly at Jensen.
“I’m, um. Jared, could I talk to you alone? It won’t take long.”
“We’re eating,” Jared replies coldly. “But if you need a stamp again, postal office is right down the block, as you know.”
Jensen’s expression goes from embarrassed to defeated. It doesn’t suit him.
There’s an awkward moment of silence, destroyed completely when Jared suddenly shouts “ouch! Goddammit what the-“ when three feet kick him simultaneously under the table.
“I could talk to him,” Sebastian offers and blinks towards Gen who grins her “told you so” grin.
“Fine,” Jared growls. “Talk. But I won’t spoil two hours in the kitchen by reheating this in the microwave, so if you’ve gotta say something, do it while we eat.”
“Um.”
“Very eloquent. Ouch! Stop kicking me goddammit!”
“Thing is,” Jensen says, “the fact that you’re being a douche right now probably doesn’t matter because so am I. A douche. And-“
“Actually,” Chad chimes in, “the term Jared used is “asshole”. Just sayin’.”
Jensen shoots first Chad, then Jared a dirty look.
“So my behavior might have been less than stellar-“ Jensen continues.
“You could say so,” Jared mumbles quite loudly before he drinks.
“Could you please shut up for a moment and let me say this?” Jensen growls with an astounding amount of authority considering the situation. It earns him three very encouraging faces and one eye-rolling Jared.
“I want to be a better person. For you. I want-I want to be-Fuck, this is… hard.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you, I’ll always be a grouchy, impatient, pedantic, not exactly sensitive hermit because this is the way I am, the way the world is, but I do realize that there’s another way to see it, your way and-damn.” Jensen pauses and bites his lip before he continues.
“I can’t stop thinking of you, Jared. I know it took me some time to realize it myself and I’m not exactly an expert in showing my-it, but I think of you. A lot. And though you’re an annoying whiny assed jellyfish with atrocious teeth and so red I want to paint you over, I-“
“You’re a communist?” Chad interrupts Jensen, starring open-mouthed at Jared. “Wow.”
“He thinks everybody who is pro health insurance for everyone and supports gay marriage hides a copy of Marx under their pillows.” Jared rectifies over a bit of chicken.
“Marx was a proponent of rainbow marriages?” Gen asks.
Jared thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Probably not.”
“The world’s so confusing these days,” Chad sighs miserably.
“If you hadn’t interrupted him, we’d be enjoying a heart-breaking love declaration by now.” Gen finally says after a bit of pondering the intricacy of the modern world, shaking her head angrily at Chad. “A rather Mr. Darcy-ish one but whatever. Go on, Jensen.”
Jensen’s the epitome of stressed tension by now, but soldiers keep on bravely nonetheless. Now that he’s started he has to finish. “I’m sorry for what happened between us. Not everything, of course. Just the fights and the insults and me not talking to you. I was wondering if, um, if you wanted to, um, hang out with me, or, you know, go out, like, on a date. In a restaurant, if you like. If you like restaurants, that is, since you work at one. Something. Anything. Damn, I suck at this.”
“You really do,” Jared agrees, all solemn at the beginning but unable to hide the smile at the end of the sentence. He gets up and leaves the room, leaving some puzzled faces behind.
When he returns a moment later, Jared carries a folding chair with him and, after rearranging the cutlery and making room for Jensen, fills another plate. On his way back to the table he makes a little detour to where Jensen’s still standing, takes his hands and presses a quick kiss to Jensen’s lips before he leads him back to the table.
When they all sit Jared takes a sip of his beer, clinks his bottle to Jensen’s still untouched one, and says “so, the Spurs…”
1 month later
“Man, I can’t believe your father let you keep the keys.”
“Guess he didn’t presume what I was up to.”
“No shit,” Jared says and turns around, manhandling Jensen so he’s basically staying where he is, pressed flush against Jared’s body, but now against his front instead of his back. Just when he’s comfortable, Jensen slides down Jared’s body.
“Dude, there’s no way I can get hard again after we’ve just-What the hell?”
“Can’t get spunk on my Dad’s treatment chair,” Jensen mumbles and presses a handful of handkerchiefs between Jared’s ass cheeks .
“Gee, you are a real romantic,” Jared says and contracts the muscles of his ass to make it harder for Jensen to push up even more tissues there.
“This wasn’t meant to be romantic but therapeutic.”
“For you or me?”
“For you of course,” Jensen says and crawls up Jared’s naked body, licking all the way up from his spent cock to his ear. After biting the lobe tenderly, he whispers into Jared’s ear “wouldn’t want you to miss your next routine check now your teeth are perfectly restored, would we?”
Jared groans. “And dragging me here in the middle of the night to fuck me in the chair you’ve been torturing me for months is supposed to help me how?”
“Positive associations,” Jensen answers, making himself comfortable in the confined space on top of Jared, his leg nestled comfortably between the other man’s thighs, one arm holding Jared tightly while the other hand plays with one of his nipples. “The next time you’ll lie here you won’t think about any of the stuff Misha tells you but of us, here, tonight, making lo-fucking.”
Laughing warmly, Jared gently grabs Jensen’s face and makes him look Jared in the eyes. “Tell me you aren’t still jealous of Misha of all people.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
“I just want you to have something nice you can mentally connect this place with so you’ll come back and not wait until your teeth are ruined again. I’m being sensitive here, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I totally do, really,” Jared looks at Jensen in a decidedly understanding and serene way. Jensen slaps him lightly and Jared laughs. “I just doubt your dad will appreciate it when I lie here with a raging boner while he examines my teeth.”
“He wouldn’t even notice. My dad adores you. So does my mother and my brother, my sister and… basically everybody. It sucks.”
“I’m so not sorry.”
“You shouldn’t even have met them.”
“Not my fault you don’t take their calls so they had to make a surprise-visit.”
“You could have dressed.”
“I was perfectly decent.”
“You wore a towel.”
“I think your sister liked what she saw. You mum too.”
“Oh please…”
“Besides, now she thinks she has to feed me so I can sustain my perfect physique and I really liked her lunch last weekend. It’s nice not to be the assigned cook for once. I think she really approves of your taste in men. So do I, by the way.”
“Narcissist.”
“Just proud I could tame the beast.”
“Pshaw…”
“You’re so cute when you are all flustered. Come on, call me your boyfriend again.”
“I’ve never called you my boyfriend.”
“No, right, that was your family.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen bites Jared’s nipple.
“Hey! Yeah, no, okay, do that again.”
Jensen does.
“Would be nice if that was where we’re heading anyway,” Jared says, his voice gravely with rekindled lust. “I mean, not that the last month was easy and there sure were moments I wanted to throttle you, lots of them, to be honest but… I want this to work, Jen.”
“Okay,” Jensen says and goes back to sucking and biting Jared’s nipple, fingers dancing down again and softly stroking Jared’s still overly sensitive cock.
“Want to feel you inside me,” Jensen whispers, for the first time since their first night together. It doesn’t come over his lips easily.
“Okay,” Jared whispers back, kissing Jensen gently as his body tries to regroup though the semen on his belly and chest’s hardly dried.
“Now that you’re my boyfrie-“ Jensen mumbles before he closes his lips around Jared’s flaccid dick. Grabbing Jensen’s hair, Jared pulls him off.
“Repeat that. Now that you’re my--?”
“Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. There, I said it three times. Can I go on sucking your cock now?” Jensen wriggles his head to get free but Jared pulls him in, kissing him deeply. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“You’re such a sap.”
“But you love me.”
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure we’ve stated that already.”
“Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“Fine, I kinda more than like you. There.”
“You ever admitted that to anyone before?”
“No.” Jensen blushes. Of course Jensen blushes.
Kissing him gently and hugging him tight, Jared whispers “I kinda more than like you too” in Jensen’s ear and both men smile into each other shoulders.
“Maybe “like” doesn’t exactly cut it,” Jensen admits now he doesn’t have to look into Jared’s face.
“Probably not,” Jared agrees. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to specify, right?”
Looking up and right into Jared’s eyes, Jensen smiles and nods. There are little wrinkles around his eyes that, strangely enough, doesn’t make him look old but, on the contrary, young like a boy on the first day of summer, clouds underneath his feet and a whole lifetime to explore and experience.
“We do. We really do.”
NSFW...:
This chapter contains a picture that's NSFW at the end of the fic.
.
“Dad!”, Jensen says in greeting, biting back a snide comment about how he’s not a five-year-old anymore needing to be checked on after two sick days and puts out his hand. Alan ignores the gesture and pulls his son into a hug, squashing the air out of the younger man. “I see your strength’s coming back,” huffs Jensen and Alan laughs before he lets go of Jensen, patting him on the back one last time.
“I’m feeling better than I have in years,” Alan agrees. “Nothing says live life to the fullest like a little heart attack. So, are you ready for the interview?”
“What interview?” Jensen asks, baffled, rummaging through his rattled brain. He may be a little overhung again.
“The one I wrote you an e-mail about yesterday morning? I tried to call you last night but you didn’t pick up so, um. Listen, Jen, I know this comes as a surprise, obviously, and maybe I should have talked to you before I-“ Alan stops and gestures for his son to follow him in the empty rec room when he realizes Sam’s pretending not to be listening to them. Closing the door he continues, “It’s time for me to go back to work but if I won’t slow down a little your mom’s gonna get me before the next heart attack can, so I’ll need a partner to run the office. Of course I was hoping that it would be you, but you’re obviously unhappy working here, and it’s not like I didn’t know it before, so I-I’m looking for another partner.”
Alan looks at Jensen uncertainly, eyes asking for a sign of understanding. Jensen sits down, arms crossed in front of his chest. Something inside of Jensen orders him to protest, to jump up and tell his father that he won’t back down and that he wants to be his partner and, ultimately, successor. But Alan’s giving him an out. Jensen bites his tongue, knowing that it’s his sense of duty speaking and not what he really wants. It hurts, literally and figuratively. Finally, he looks up, locking eyes with his father, and says “it’s okay.”
Alan smiles at him, a hint of sadness in his eyes, but mostly, pride and love. “An old friend recommended this young dentist, Alona Tal. She graduated top of her class and has some experience working in a clinic. Also, she lectures on the management of acute postoperative dental pain. Misha once met her at a symposium about alternative pain therapy and has been gushing about her ever since. I think, he also introduced her to his wife and the three of them-“ Alan coughs slightly, “whatever. Point is, I want you to get to know her and tell me what you think about her, in case you-“ Alan pauses again, “ in case you want to choose another road, professionally. You can always call it off, of course. You’ll always be my first choice, Jensen. You know that, right?”
Before his father can get teary-eyed, Jensen gets up and hugs his old man briefly. “I know, dad.”
“I’m very grateful you took over, Jensen, but, above everything else, I want you to be happy and-“
“I know,” Jensen nods.
There's a knock on the door and both men straighten. “Come in,” Alan says and Samantha peeks inside, oddly reserved, to tell them that Mrs. Tal’s waiting. Alan follows her to welcome the applicant personally but before he’s gone, Jensen asks him to wait a second.
Feeling like, finally, he’s able to breathe free again, he says “thanks dad”. Alan smiles back at him, both men’s relief nearly palpable between them.
On Friday, Jared’s back for his last caries treatment. After that, it’ll be tooth crowns and implants, equating to several appointments of reconstruction once the progressive decay of Jared’s dentition’s stopped.
More importantly, it’s the last time Jensen will meet Jared.
Curtly informing all his other patients that his father will be back on Monday, Jensen spends the day observing the wide range of human expressions of relief and pure joy, usually followed by his patient’s mumbled excuses for failing to hide their emotions. There’s no way he, on the other hand, could properly express his emotions about the fact that this is his last day at work either. Due to the fact that Alona’s relocated weeks ago for private reasons - Jensen doesn’t even wanna know - she’s going to start on Monday too so that there’s no reason Jensen has to stay.
It’s fucking awesome.
Jensen has no idea why he’s even grumpier than before. Or why he’s not going bright red with shame when Jared enters the room, the last patient he’ll have in this office. He isn’t even angry, all the things he felt like hurling at Jared for making him wanting to give up his principles, suddenly unimportant. All there’s left at the end of the day is the hazy feeling of sadness and regret and Jensen knows that it’s got nothing to do with being unemployed again and everything with Jared.
Jensen pretends it’s all business as usual, both men ignoring the events of their last meeting in front of Jensen’s staff. Jared’s already deeply relaxed when Jensen sits down, mumbling a quiet “hey” and blinking before his eyes close again. Jensen swallows the lump in his throat and goes to work. He allows himself the occasional sideways glance, eyes tracing the chiseled curve of Jared’s relaxed face and the contours of solid muscle showing through Jared’s Henley.
When he’s done, he hurries out of the room while Jared’s still spitting out though every single cell in Jensen’s body tries to urge him back, to kiss and hold on and not let go.
Good thing he’s not a sentimental pussy, Jensen mentally applauds himself and blinks the soaring onslaught of emotions away.
“You didn’t tell him,” Misha comments as he pulls on his jacket, leaving it to Jensen and Sam to do the final paperwork and preparations necessary for Alan and Alona to have an optimal start come Monday morning.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jensen mumbles petulantly. He already formally thanked them both for their work, so, in Jensen’s opinion, everything’s said.
Misha pauses for a moment, just standing there, waiting for Jensen’s and Samantha’s undivided attention, and puts his wisdom face on. Jensen swears under his breath. Great. He’d hoped he’d make it out of the office without one last quote of some scrawny Asian guy in a giant scarf.
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage,” Misha recites gravely.
“Let me guess, the Dalai Lama?” Jensen huffs.
“Close,” Misha says earnestly. “Justin Bieber.”
Sam looks up, puzzled. “Really?”
“Nah,” Misha smirks. “Lao Tzu.” He blinks and waves them goodbye. Jensen rolls his eyes.
“What does that even mean?” Jensen grumbles, “love, courage. This is a dental office, not Hallmark.”
“Well, probably he wanted to encourage you to risk something for your love, not run from it.”
“I’m single. Happily so, thank you very much.”
“He really likes you, you know.”
“Misha?” Jensen frowns. “I really don’t think so.”
Sam rolls her eyes and lightly slaps the back of Jensen’s head, obviously thinking this was proper behavior now Jensen’s not her boss anymore. “Jared. Or do you think he stayed under your treatment because of your bedside manner? I really don’t think so.”
Jensen doesn’t have to wait long before feeling the telltale blush creeping under his skin. “I’m a good dentist.”
Samantha’s face softens. A little. “You are. I know we had our differences but I’ve never doubted your competence, Jensen. You aren’t made to work with people. You did it anyway and under much rougher circumstances than in our fancy office and I respect that. Actually,” she smiles, “I liked you from the start. You were four and rearranged the office supplies on the desk so every pen lay parallel to the edge the day I started working for your father. It was adorable,” she pauses, “-ish.”
Jensen cannot not smile in return. “You should see the storage room. I ordered everything alphabetically.”
“I know,” Sam says, “it’s neat. Anal, but neat. Now, how about you start straightening out your personal life?”
The none of your business is on the tip of Jensen’s tongue but he bites it back. Instead he puts the last patient files in order and says “I’m happy.”
“You’re not.”
Jensen sighs, his shoulders slumping visibly. “No I’m not.”
Gently squeezing Jensen’s shoulder, Sam says “call him. I’m sure he’d love to go out with you. A friend of mine knows one of the waitresses working at the same restaurant as him and she says he’s gay and single. Don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect anything, my friend was very subtle. And don’t tell me you aren’t interested in men, this is 2012 and no one-“
“We fucked,” Jensen exclaims. It’s out before Jensen can hold himself back and the moment it’s done, he fervently wishes he had shut up.
More than that, he said it out loud. I slept with a man. To somebody who’s practically family. Using bad language. Jensen feels a little sick, though not nearly as sick as he supposed he would. He briefly considers rewording but decides to not repeat it. Instead he mumbles “sorry.”
“But that’s fantastic!,” Sam laughs and slaps his shoulder. “So are you two-“
“No, no,” Jensen interrupts, “He’s not my-“ he doesn’t say boyfriend though it’s hanging in the air. “It was only sex. It’s complicated. Or, actually, it’s not. He’s-I’m not-It’s complicated.”
Raising an eye brow, Sam says “it always is. Pulling oneself together and going for what really counts despite all odds is what separates happy people from dead people rotting in their condos for months without anybody noticing.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Sam smiles and hugs Jensen briefly, making Jensen tense. “It really is.” She smiles and grabs her purse. “Will you lock up?”
Jensen nods and breathes deeply when he hears the door close. Five more minutes to say goodbye to the storage room and he’s out of here for good.
Guess I shouldn’t be surprised your dad had to tell me. Disappointing though. Good luck, Jensen. JP.
Jensen receives the text two hours after Jared’s first appointment with Dr. Ackles senior. He’s curled up on his couch, still in his pajama bottoms and slightly buzzed though it’s not even 5 pm, waiting. Of course Jared couldn’t let it go without one last message.
Finger hovering over the button, Jensen downs his last drink in one gulp, then he deletes Jared’s last message and every one he got before. On his way to the shower he empties the half empty bottle of whiskey in the sink.
Time to start over.
“Wow, that must be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen you doing. And that includes walking in on you and that one-legged marathon runner and the unspeakable night at Mardi Grass that shall never ever be spoken of again. Never.”
“Leave me alone,” Jared whines and pours a little more Amaretto into his Häagen Dazs, then shoves a big spoon full of chocolate ice cream mixed with the almond flavor of the sweet liquor in his mouth. He’s too depressed to savor the joy of eating ice cold sweets without pain radiating from his formerly rotten teeth.
“He still didn’t answer your text?” Chad asks, trying to not insult Jared’s feelings by laughing at him though his roommate’s looking like the heroine of a Bridget Jones movie in one of her less stellar moments. Well, if Ms. Jones were a ripped giant starting to smell and showing what must be worth three days of stubble.
Chad fetches a beer from the fridge, definitely the last one before he’ll go to bed after a long night of clubbing, and joins Jared at the kitchen table. Snagging Jared’s mobile phone, he reads the message Jared had sent three days ago and raises an eye brow. “That doesn’t sound like you want an answer, good luck and all. Maybe you should try again if you want him to react. Despite the fact that you claim to think he’s an asshole, of course.”
“He is an asshole. And a wimp.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Can’t be said often enough.”
“And still you’re going all Katherine Heigl over him. Dude must be a fantastic lay.” Chad takes a big swig. “And that wasn’t me wanting to encourage you to explain in detail, really not.” Chad shakes his head and shudders.
Jared shrugs. “It’s his turn. Our last night was a disaster and there’s no way I’ll do shit before he apologizes for being a complete and utter asshole. Again. And did I mention he’s a fucking asshole?”
“Once or twice.”
“That’s ‘cause he’s the biggest asshole that ever assholed.”
Chad sighs. “And still you’re stuffing your face with your own weight in ice cream. So what now? You refuse to make a move. He’s too much of an asshole and coward to say sorry. Doesn’t sound like happily ever after, to be honest.”
“It really doesn’t, huh?”
“Sorry.”
“Fine,” Jared says and licks the spoon clean, “then it’s over and I won’t waste one more thought on him.”
“Uh-huh.” Chad doesn’t sound convinced. “That epiphany came kinda quick.”
Jared visibly straightens up. “No. It’s pointless. I mean, being an asshole is not all there is, he’s got a good side too but it’s damn well hidden and if he doesn’t want me to see behind the curtain I gotta accept that. I won’t waste my time on a guy who doesn’t appreciate me when I could be out there and meet my future husband. His loss, right?”
Chad nods as expected of him. “Absolutely.”
Getting up and slapping his flat palm on the kitchen counter to emphasize his decision, Jared tells Chad good night and goes to bed.
Chad pulls the Häagen Dazs container near and puts a big spoon full of ice cream in his mouth and yeah, no, liquor, chocolate ice cream and beer? Tastes even less convincing than Jared’s vow to forget Jensen was.
2 months later
Jensen’s life is flawless. Flaw-less. He’d use a word with more syllables if the flawlessness of his life would allow him enough time to think about such banalities.
But there’s his new job, a sweet position in the research division of the market-leading pharmaceutical company specializing on dental prosthesis with A1 benefits and zero patient contact. His team’s small and consisting of only three, rather reticent coworkers who leave him alone and appreciate him for his scientific sagacity and his field experience with complicated injuries treated under difficult circumstances.
Moreover, Jensen’s workplace is in his old neighborhood, only a stone’s throw away from his father’s office. He’d have preferred to leave town, state even, but the job offer had just been too good. So Jensen moved nonetheless - albeit only two blocks - telling his family the new condo was much better than the fully furnished one he’d rented in a hurry when he came back. In reality he needed at least a little change of scenery to be able to leave the past months behind.
He’d called Chris to help him move his meager belongings, telling himself that he’s doing a good deed offering the struggling artist/actor/whatever-cashes-some-money an opportunity to make some bucks. But when they were done after hardly two hours and Jensen wordlessly pushed some twenties in the other man’s hand, Chris shoved it back at him, called Jensen a friggin’ emotional dyslexic and gruffly told him to stop being a tool and get his ass in gear.
Asking Steve over to help, Chris started assembling the still packaged pieces of furniture Jensen had delivered already despite his friend’s strident protest, shooting Jensen’s plan to do it on his own to shit. After half a day of ignoring manuals, heavy swearing and finally succeeding with only seven residual screws, Chris and Steve saved Jensen from setting up camp in an empty condo. In the end, Chris even ordered the obligatory pizza himself. So, yeah, looks like Jensen’s new life even includes old friends - no matter how hard he tries to get rid of them. He thinks that might be okay too.
Also, he hasn’t heard anybody quoting a single granola-munching yoga freak in two months.
Flaw-less.
So it’s kind of puzzling even to Jensen himself when on Tuesday, April 17th, just before midnight, he finds himself waiting in line at the post office, surrounded by tense people nervously glancing at the clock on the wall every few seconds. It’s getting even more puzzling when, after 10 minutes of progressing slower than a dead snail, he hears the guy standing behind coughing. Great. Now he’s gonna pay for a few minutes of innocent entertainment with the flu.
Flu guy coughs again. Jensen tries to take a step forward but there isn’t exactly much room and the hipster in front of him is too focused on filling out the crumpled form he’s balancing on his messenger bag to move.
“Um, Jensen?”
Jensen freezes. He knows that voice.
He turns around, hoping and praying he’s wrong but no such luck.
“Jared. I should have figured you’d be here tonight.” Says Jensen, trying to sound rather prosaic than shell-shocked. It works surprisingly well.
Jared smiles goofily, teeth perfect. “Wow, so you really wanted to see me, huh? Suave dating technique, man.” It’s supposed to be a joke but falls flat. Jared grimaces and Jensen looks in another direction. Awkward.
“So, um, I wouldn’t have pegged you a procrastinator,” Jared tries again.
“I’m not.”
“Right. You’re here on Tax Day hardly 15 minutes before the deadline because you want to post--?” He bends his neck to try to see the weirdly small piece of paper Jensen’s rolling nervously in his sweaty palms. “A postcard.” In one swift move, Jared snatches the card. “A postcard to request...”, Jared pauses, turns the card around and reads, “a free sample of TENA incontinence pads. Oh. Oh.”
And if Jensen’s body was too surprised to heat up when he saw Jared, it sure as hell gets the message now and gives Jensen the most appropriate flush possible for a man who’s just been caught ordering an adult incontinence product.
Ripping the card from Jared’s hands, Jensen panics and yells “I’m not incontinent” but falling immediately silent when about thirty heads turn his way.
“Fuck, man, I’m sorry,” Jared whispers, leaning in. “Shit, I really am. So, so sorry and if I can do anything-Um, listen, I guess you want to get out of here, so why don’t you give me the card and I’ll mail it for you?” Jared wants to take the culprit back but Jensen crumples it up in his clenched hand.
“I. Am. Not. Incontinent.” Jensen repeats, leaning in even more so he’s talking directly into Jared’s ear, emphasizing every word as much as possible while trying to be as quiet as possible. It sounds like a snake sizzling to put an assailant to route. “But I mailed my tax return already and this was the only mailable thing I could find in a trice. It came with a professional journal, I didn’t care for what it was, for Christ’s sake. See,” he brings enough distance between them to show Jared the backside of the card, “I didn’t even put my address down.”
“No,” Jared checks, “ you took Chris’.”
Jensen shrugs. “It’s a prank.”
“Bullshit. You aren’t the kind of guy who’s spending his nights playing childish pranks. Why are you here?”
“Because Chris is incontinent?” Jensen tries but Jared gives him the patented “don’t you dare try fucking with me, kid” expression only mothers and priests should be able to nail like that.
“Okay, fine,” Jensen relents, getting it out as fast as possible. “I’m here because seeing all those morons who suck so much at life that they can’t even file their tax returns in time while I accomplished that weeks ago cheers me up when I’m feeling down. Especially when they go stark crazy when I take my time to choose a special issue stamp. Happy now?”
Starring at Jensen flabbergasted, Jared says “wow, you really are an asshole.”
“Oh come on,” Jensen whispers, now really careful not to be overheard by the office full of procrastinators, “most of those losers are sending nothing but extension forms anyway. Serves them right.”
Holding up the envelope in his hand, Jared asks “losers like me?”
Jensen swallows, noticing a spike of lust mixed within the threat he’s starting to feel when Jared straightens, all growly and pissed. Fuck.
“What kind of person does that?” Jared rants so loud Jensen’s sure really everybody can hear it. “You’re jeopardizing people’s much needed tax returns here - in this economy! Do you even know what that means, depending on that money ‘cause it gets harder every year to make ends meet? To support a family, even if you’re not some posh dentist whose daddy probably paid for college and medical school but working in some blue collar job with no fucking benefits but bills piling up higher and higher? Do you have any fucking idea what that means, huh?”
Jensen hasn’t. He has no fucking clue. He saw soldiers die, he sure as hell knows how to make his own life miserable - no matter how flaw-less it is - but he indeed never ever had to think about money.
“Nobody’s forcing them to file in the last nick of time,” Jensen defends himself, albeit meekly, shoulders hunched and fists clenched in the pockets of his leather jacket. It’s not even the other people watching them with open curiosity now but the fact that, yes, Jared has a point and as much Jensen wants to deny it… Jared’s got a point. Period.
“No,” Jared agrees coldly, “nobody’s forced them to procrastinate. But who are you to decide how other people organize their lives?”
Blushing with shame, which is a slightly different but just as shiny shade of red, Jensen nods, coughs slightly and - in absence of anything he could say to make him look less like a complete and utter ass - turns around, every single confused and reproachful look following him outside like a dagger in his back.
Them - Jared - thinking he can’t hold his water suddenly seems like the lesser of two evils.
“An asshole,” Chad, Gen and Sebastian answer in unison, waving their beer bottles rhythmically in the air as they sing-song “asshole” for the umpteenth time.
“Exactly,” Jared agrees, pointing the tip of his knife at the group of friends from behind the kitchen counter. “Somebody who torpedoes innocent citizen’s attempts to file their tax returns is an asshole. I mean, I shouldn’t be shocked. He tortures people for a living.”
“To be fair, you’re much better now your teeth are refurbished. You’re actually preparing solid food instead of mushy desserts,” Genevieve interjects as she finishes setting the table for the four of them. “By the way, how much longer? I’m so hungry, I could eat your whole evil dentist.”
“I’m sure he’s toxic,” Jared grumbles and flips the chicken breasts over.
“I think it’s funny,” Chad says, which gains him a dirty look from Jared and suppressed giggles from the others. “Come on, the stamp thing is hilarious. It’s like a Monty Python sketch.”
“He gets his kicks by preventing other people to get their tax returns.”
“He probably just makes them nervous. The people working in post offices know the situation pretty damn well and won’t allow him to waste too much time… I guess. It’s not like he’s eating little children. However. It’s darn funny. And you got your post mark so everything’s peachy and we can finally talk about the interesting part of your little story. Namely, why can he still rile you up like this?”
“Because he’s-“
“-an asshole,” the others sing-song. It sounds a little more like a chant every time and they clink bottles to congratulate themselves.
“Must be a damn good-looking one,” Sebastian says and Gen makes a “you’ve got no idea” face.
“That good?” Sebastian asks but before Gen can answer Jared forcefully places two plates in front of them.
“Doesn’t mean he should get away with everything,” Jared argues.
When he finally sits down to eat, the door bell rings. Chad holds both his hands protectively over his steaming plate. “Dude, if you invited somebody else that’s your problem. I won’t share.”
Jared shrugs. Gen jumps up, saying “I got this” like she’s actually living here and rushes to open the door, yelling “and don’t you dare stealing from my plate, Chad” on the way.
When she returns, she looks like she’s trying to hide a smirk that tries to split her face but fails spectacularly. “Jay, you’ve got a visitor.” Stepping aside, she makes room for the man following and over towering her anyway. “Chad and Sebastian, meet Jensen. Jensen, meet Chad and Sebastian.” She turns to Jensen, offering her hand. “I’m Genevieve, by the way. We met at that Kane concert in autumn, or well, we didn’t exactly meet but I saw you. Anyway. Have a seat!”
“Um,” Jensen stammers, obviously feeling out of his depth considering the unexpected group of people, “I just wanted, um, talk to Jared for a moment so thanks but I don’t wanna sit down.”
“Of course you want to,” Gen chirps and tries to shoo Jensen towards the table but Jensen stays where he is like a stubborn horse, so Gen joins the others at the table, starring expectantly at Jensen.
“I’m, um. Jared, could I talk to you alone? It won’t take long.”
“We’re eating,” Jared replies coldly. “But if you need a stamp again, postal office is right down the block, as you know.”
Jensen’s expression goes from embarrassed to defeated. It doesn’t suit him.
There’s an awkward moment of silence, destroyed completely when Jared suddenly shouts “ouch! Goddammit what the-“ when three feet kick him simultaneously under the table.
“I could talk to him,” Sebastian offers and blinks towards Gen who grins her “told you so” grin.
“Fine,” Jared growls. “Talk. But I won’t spoil two hours in the kitchen by reheating this in the microwave, so if you’ve gotta say something, do it while we eat.”
“Um.”
“Very eloquent. Ouch! Stop kicking me goddammit!”
“Thing is,” Jensen says, “the fact that you’re being a douche right now probably doesn’t matter because so am I. A douche. And-“
“Actually,” Chad chimes in, “the term Jared used is “asshole”. Just sayin’.”
Jensen shoots first Chad, then Jared a dirty look.
“So my behavior might have been less than stellar-“ Jensen continues.
“You could say so,” Jared mumbles quite loudly before he drinks.
“Could you please shut up for a moment and let me say this?” Jensen growls with an astounding amount of authority considering the situation. It earns him three very encouraging faces and one eye-rolling Jared.
“I want to be a better person. For you. I want-I want to be-Fuck, this is… hard.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you, I’ll always be a grouchy, impatient, pedantic, not exactly sensitive hermit because this is the way I am, the way the world is, but I do realize that there’s another way to see it, your way and-damn.” Jensen pauses and bites his lip before he continues.
“I can’t stop thinking of you, Jared. I know it took me some time to realize it myself and I’m not exactly an expert in showing my-it, but I think of you. A lot. And though you’re an annoying whiny assed jellyfish with atrocious teeth and so red I want to paint you over, I-“
“You’re a communist?” Chad interrupts Jensen, starring open-mouthed at Jared. “Wow.”
“He thinks everybody who is pro health insurance for everyone and supports gay marriage hides a copy of Marx under their pillows.” Jared rectifies over a bit of chicken.
“Marx was a proponent of rainbow marriages?” Gen asks.
Jared thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Probably not.”
“The world’s so confusing these days,” Chad sighs miserably.
“If you hadn’t interrupted him, we’d be enjoying a heart-breaking love declaration by now.” Gen finally says after a bit of pondering the intricacy of the modern world, shaking her head angrily at Chad. “A rather Mr. Darcy-ish one but whatever. Go on, Jensen.”
Jensen’s the epitome of stressed tension by now, but soldiers keep on bravely nonetheless. Now that he’s started he has to finish. “I’m sorry for what happened between us. Not everything, of course. Just the fights and the insults and me not talking to you. I was wondering if, um, if you wanted to, um, hang out with me, or, you know, go out, like, on a date. In a restaurant, if you like. If you like restaurants, that is, since you work at one. Something. Anything. Damn, I suck at this.”
“You really do,” Jared agrees, all solemn at the beginning but unable to hide the smile at the end of the sentence. He gets up and leaves the room, leaving some puzzled faces behind.
When he returns a moment later, Jared carries a folding chair with him and, after rearranging the cutlery and making room for Jensen, fills another plate. On his way back to the table he makes a little detour to where Jensen’s still standing, takes his hands and presses a quick kiss to Jensen’s lips before he leads him back to the table.
When they all sit Jared takes a sip of his beer, clinks his bottle to Jensen’s still untouched one, and says “so, the Spurs…”
1 month later
“Man, I can’t believe your father let you keep the keys.”
“Guess he didn’t presume what I was up to.”
“No shit,” Jared says and turns around, manhandling Jensen so he’s basically staying where he is, pressed flush against Jared’s body, but now against his front instead of his back. Just when he’s comfortable, Jensen slides down Jared’s body.
“Dude, there’s no way I can get hard again after we’ve just-What the hell?”
“Can’t get spunk on my Dad’s treatment chair,” Jensen mumbles and presses a handful of handkerchiefs between Jared’s ass cheeks .
“Gee, you are a real romantic,” Jared says and contracts the muscles of his ass to make it harder for Jensen to push up even more tissues there.
“This wasn’t meant to be romantic but therapeutic.”
“For you or me?”
“For you of course,” Jensen says and crawls up Jared’s naked body, licking all the way up from his spent cock to his ear. After biting the lobe tenderly, he whispers into Jared’s ear “wouldn’t want you to miss your next routine check now your teeth are perfectly restored, would we?”
Jared groans. “And dragging me here in the middle of the night to fuck me in the chair you’ve been torturing me for months is supposed to help me how?”
“Positive associations,” Jensen answers, making himself comfortable in the confined space on top of Jared, his leg nestled comfortably between the other man’s thighs, one arm holding Jared tightly while the other hand plays with one of his nipples. “The next time you’ll lie here you won’t think about any of the stuff Misha tells you but of us, here, tonight, making lo-fucking.”
Laughing warmly, Jared gently grabs Jensen’s face and makes him look Jared in the eyes. “Tell me you aren’t still jealous of Misha of all people.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
“I just want you to have something nice you can mentally connect this place with so you’ll come back and not wait until your teeth are ruined again. I’m being sensitive here, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I totally do, really,” Jared looks at Jensen in a decidedly understanding and serene way. Jensen slaps him lightly and Jared laughs. “I just doubt your dad will appreciate it when I lie here with a raging boner while he examines my teeth.”
“He wouldn’t even notice. My dad adores you. So does my mother and my brother, my sister and… basically everybody. It sucks.”
“I’m so not sorry.”
“You shouldn’t even have met them.”
“Not my fault you don’t take their calls so they had to make a surprise-visit.”
“You could have dressed.”
“I was perfectly decent.”
“You wore a towel.”
“I think your sister liked what she saw. You mum too.”
“Oh please…”
“Besides, now she thinks she has to feed me so I can sustain my perfect physique and I really liked her lunch last weekend. It’s nice not to be the assigned cook for once. I think she really approves of your taste in men. So do I, by the way.”
“Narcissist.”
“Just proud I could tame the beast.”
“Pshaw…”
“You’re so cute when you are all flustered. Come on, call me your boyfriend again.”
“I’ve never called you my boyfriend.”
“No, right, that was your family.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen bites Jared’s nipple.
“Hey! Yeah, no, okay, do that again.”
Jensen does.
“Would be nice if that was where we’re heading anyway,” Jared says, his voice gravely with rekindled lust. “I mean, not that the last month was easy and there sure were moments I wanted to throttle you, lots of them, to be honest but… I want this to work, Jen.”
“Okay,” Jensen says and goes back to sucking and biting Jared’s nipple, fingers dancing down again and softly stroking Jared’s still overly sensitive cock.
“Want to feel you inside me,” Jensen whispers, for the first time since their first night together. It doesn’t come over his lips easily.
“Okay,” Jared whispers back, kissing Jensen gently as his body tries to regroup though the semen on his belly and chest’s hardly dried.
“Now that you’re my boyfrie-“ Jensen mumbles before he closes his lips around Jared’s flaccid dick. Grabbing Jensen’s hair, Jared pulls him off.
“Repeat that. Now that you’re my--?”
“Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. There, I said it three times. Can I go on sucking your cock now?” Jensen wriggles his head to get free but Jared pulls him in, kissing him deeply. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“You’re such a sap.”
“But you love me.”
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure we’ve stated that already.”
“Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“Fine, I kinda more than like you. There.”
“You ever admitted that to anyone before?”
“No.” Jensen blushes. Of course Jensen blushes.
Kissing him gently and hugging him tight, Jared whispers “I kinda more than like you too” in Jensen’s ear and both men smile into each other shoulders.
“Maybe “like” doesn’t exactly cut it,” Jensen admits now he doesn’t have to look into Jared’s face.
“Probably not,” Jared agrees. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to specify, right?”
Looking up and right into Jared’s eyes, Jensen smiles and nods. There are little wrinkles around his eyes that, strangely enough, doesn’t make him look old but, on the contrary, young like a boy on the first day of summer, clouds underneath his feet and a whole lifetime to explore and experience.
“We do. We really do.”
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