our parts are slightly used | part four
Jared has grown accustomed to waking up alone. Well, as alone as he can be in their base hospital, his cot being one among dozens laid out in a checkerboard pattern of white and red.
The first time he woke up here, it was to paralyzing fear. He’d been tormented with twisted, rapid-fire dreams of the bombing, unable to open his eyes and escape the searing pain, and when he finally came to, the wires in his brain were crossed and useless. He couldn’t feel. In his nightmares, his legs were blown clear off. He’d tried to find them, leaving crisscrossed lines of blood as he dragged his body across the sand, and when he woke up, he’d looked down and seen two stumps under a pristine white sheet.
Turns out that was a nightmare, too.
He knows doctors and medics have been by to see him. Bandages are changed, IVs swapped out. Someone’s giving him the good stuff, though it’s never enough to blunt the pain. But no one’s talked to him besides the combat nurse who fortunately is gruff enough not to comment on Jared’s embarrassment at being tended to like an infant.
But today, someone’s there when he opens his eyes.
“Sergeant.”
Jared nods. Something settles in his blood when the company’s ‘first shirt’ uses his rank. “Sir.”
First Sergeant Matt Wiltse pulls a battered metal stool alongside the cot and takes a seat. Jared’s attempt to sit up is halted by his C.O.’s hand on his shoulder. “Stay put, Sergeant. How’re you feeling?”
Nothing he says would come close to the truth, so he offers something generic. “Might be a bit before I can get back out there, sir.”
Wiltse looks down at Jared’s leg. Under the sheet, it looks thicker from the layers of bandages. “Just a bit, Padalecki,” he says gruffly. “In the meantime, you’re on the next flight to Germany where you’ll await a C-17 flight back to the states.”
“Sir?” Jared can feel his blood pressure spike. “I can heal up here. I’ve still got my leg! My tour’s not up-”
“It is, Sergeant.” Wiltse gives him no fuss, no platitudes. “I’ve got your orders, you’re going home.”
There’s nowhere for the news to sink in. Jared’s head is already filled to capacity. Stunned, he stares down at the sheets, at the leg he can’t move without a white-hot strike of pain. He’s got his orders; there’s nothing to question.
Still, he wants to scream.
Later.
Wiltse hasn’t moved, his presence silent. Supportive if Jared needs it. Right now, he only needs one thing.
“Sir?” Jared takes the emotion out of his voice. “No one told me what happened to the rest of the convoy.”
His C.O. maintains eye contact, but Jared can tell he’s struggling to remain detached. Most of the enlisted personnel on the convoy were under Wiltse’s command. “Eleven casualties,” he says, “and five caskets.”
“Shubert?”
Wiltse shakes his head. “You’re not the only one going home, Iron Man.”
Jared’s stomach cramps, rebels. Must be the pain-meds, he thinks.
“I’ll swing back through to see you tomorrow,” Wiltse says. From behind the stool, he drags out a faded canvas bag. “Pulled together a few books from the barracks. Can’t vouch for the content though.”
Neither of them speak for a moment, the awful sounds of the field hospital filling the void: dull, pained moans, low, monotone voices that carry bad news, helpless cries. Wiltse stands, and Jared barely remembers to acknowledge his superior officer’s departure.
“You take care, Sergeant,” Wiltse says as he leaves. “We’ll have you home in no time.”
Home. Jared spends the rest of his afternoon trying to remember what home is.
“Good, you’re not busy.”
Cindy drops into one of Jensen’s chairs and picks up the cube-bot on his desk. The silly wooden toy had been a gift from Jared on their four-month anniversary; Jensen had treated Jared to an enthusiastic rimming. Afterward, Jared declared he’d gotten the better end of the deal.
Jensen looks up from his computer and scowls.
“I had my door closed.”
“Really?” Cindy arranges the bot’s pieces until it’s performing a split. “Anyway-you and Jared are coming tomorrow night, right?”
Jensen sighs. He’s explained this twice. “Jared’s down in San Antonio until Saturday.”
It’s a second before she puts it together. “Meeting his sister’s fiancé, right. Okay, but you’re coming?”
“Yeah, do you need me to pick up anything?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask…”
Cindy needs beer. Lots of it. She’s low on time and Blake had never restocked her fridge. After work, Jensen picks up three cases of generic longnecks and one case of his favorite microbrew and drops it off using the code to Cindy’s garage while she’s out.
At home, Jensen sits down to an uninspired dinner of canned green beans and some leftover pizza. Without Jared, he can’t muster the energy for anything more substantial. In the last four months, he’s come to realize that cooking for two is easier. Sitting alone in front of the television, Jensen stabs at his limp beans, a little pissed that Jared’s not here. Or, that he’s not with Jared.
The news of Jared’s sister’s engagement was unexpected. For Jensen especially, because he had no idea Jared had a sister. Shock led to anger when Jared told him, but anger gradually transitioned into frustration. They’d been doing really well. Jared had practically moved into Jensen’s house (a status Jensen thought about making permanent) and their happiness was punctuated by straight-to-the-good-stuff sex and learning all they could about one another.
Except for major things like, oh, siblings.
But Jensen got over it, and he offered to take time off in order to drive to San Antonio to meet Jared’s family.
Jared turned him down.
The explanation he gave was flustered, and Jensen can’t really remember the specifics through the red fog obscuring the memory. To the point, Jared didn’t want Jensen to meet his family. Not in a bad way, he’d insisted. Far from being ashamed of Jensen, he said he didn’t want to drag Jensen into the theatrics.
“You’ve never said anything bad about your family,” Jensen had said.
“It’s not that they’re bad,” Jared had mused, head in his hands. “They’re just kinda intense about my situation.” Jensen waited, no idea what would come out of his mouth if he started asking questions. “They smothered me in the hospital for way too long, tried to get me to move in with them when I was released. Whenever I see them, which isn’t a lot,” he’d clarified, “they’ll try to convince me to move back, or closer, or whatever.”
Slumped on the couch, he’d looked defeated. “I just don’t want to put you in the middle of that, okay?”
Donning a casual front, Jensen had crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall. “So you don’t want me to go.”
“I want one of us to survive the weekend with our sanity intact,” Jared had replied. “So yeah, I think I’d rather go alone.”
Jared had left this morning; the house feels different without him. Being left behind stings but, in a small way, Jensen understands his reasons. Though Jared probably didn’t realize it, he’d given Jensen insight to the time following his return from Afghanistan. Jared possessed a stubborn streak as wide as the Texas plains-obviously being forced into a living situation wouldn’t go over well. That, along with his distaste for smothering, makes Jensen question his decision to ask Jared to move in. The last thing he wants to do is set Jared off.
But Jensen has come to detest being alone, rolling through his house like a pinball with nothing to bounce off. He’s agitated already, taking it out on his pitiful dinner and mashing the green beans to the point they’re inedible.
“Baby, my eyes hurt.” Blake groans and curls over Cindy’s lap while she pets her fingers through his wavy hair. “And my head, and my teeth, and my gut…”
Cindy makes a sour face at Jensen over Blake’s shoulder. Except for Jimmy, the rest of the basketball crew is scattered in the bleachers complaining about their hangovers. Jimmy joined a 3-on-3 pick-up game at the other end of the gymnasium when their crew threw in the towel after one brutally pathetic game.
“Whose brilliant idea was this, anyway?” Ben mutters, head between his knees.
Rubbing her temples, Caitlin nods towards DJ. “Your boyfriend’s.”
“No way, he was drunker than I was.”
“Dude,” Mark chimes in, “you were both wearing hula skirts by the end of the night.”
Ben shakes his head, complexion tinged green. “DJ was so drunk, he passed out in the middle of giving me he-”
“Okay, no!” Jamie shouts and everyone winces. “No, no, no.”
They’d celebrated Blake’s birthday the night before in excessive fashion. Cindy’s house was overrun with Blake’s friends, Jensen, and a few choice social selections from the office. Jensen had been melancholy at first, but he’d quickly filled that hole with bottles of microbrew and had a good time, although his memory’s a little hazy.
He’s not sure who insisted they all stick to their regularly scheduled game (though he’s got a feeling it was Jimmy, who’ll use any excuse to come by the VA and see his favorite nurse), but it was a terrible idea. His arms feel like spaghetti and his insides are working backwards. But the worst part was sleeping without Jared. Drunk or sober, he sleeps better when his boyfriend’s around. There was no one to share coffee with; no one to sneak into the shower with him and rub over his hipbones.
“How about we call it a day?” Lincoln polls the group and no one argues. Jimmy waves as they’re leaving.
They congregate at the IHOP down the street, squeezing into two booths and demanding coffee before their server opens his mouth. Everyone’s spirits are higher after pancakes, French toast, or, in Jensen’s case, the biggest omelet they make.
Jensen had left his car across from Cindy’s house last night, so Cindy and Blake give him a ride back. Blake starts acting more like a human as his complexion regains color. They pull up next to Jensen’s car, but Blake holds Jensen back before he can get out of the truck.
“Hey, man,” he says, pitching his voice low even after Cindy hops out. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but Cindy told me you were asking about Jared’s sleeping problems.”
Jensen doesn’t remember using the word ‘problems,’ but he nods. “He has some trouble, yeah.”
“I won’t lie and say I sleep all that great either,” Blake admits. “No matter how tough your service is, you always come back a little different.”
This is a conversation he’d rather have with Jared, but Jensen’s starving for information, no longer able to survive on scraps. Blake was there-Jensen knows that much-and he needs that insight.
“Jared refuses to tell me anything about his time in Afghanistan, but he talks about his tours in Iraq every now and then.”
“Been long enough since my first tour that I can bury the memories I don’t want while keeping the good ones out for show n’ tell.” That fits with the stories Jared likes to share. “The last one was harder. We were better at what we were doing, but the shine had worn off.” Blake sighs. “So Jared’s visiting his family?”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “He wasn’t happy about it.”
Blake nods. “I saw my parents when I came home, but I moved to Texas right after.”
“Did the Army move you?”
“Nah, I’d always wanted to live in Texas. Mark and Jared were already here, so I figured they’d let me in, too.”
Jensen smiles, glad the three men have one another. “Do you see your family much?”
“Not as much as they’d like, but my Dad was in the Army so he understands why I needed a little bit of distance. I don’t think there’s anyone like that in Jared’s family, so it’s probably tougher for him. Family’s gonna want to help, but it’s hard for them to understand what we’ve gone through. We know they love us, but knowing that doesn’t feel as right as it used to. It feels more like pressure.”
“Pressure to become a civilian again?” Jensen asks, watching Blake’s expression flatten out.
“To be the person they remember from before you shipped off.”
Jensen carries those words with him throughout the rest of the afternoon while he lazes about in front of ESPN. His mom calls during their coverage of college baseball to tell him all about his dad’s new iPad. She then insists on trying a video chat. When that technological obstacle course is over, there’s a soccer game on television. Jensen settles in with a glass of sweet tea (Jared’s) and crackers, feeling the effects of drinking an entire brewery the night before.
The match has just gone into stoppage time when Jared walks in.
“I thought you were coming back tomorrow,” Jensen says, watching Jared throw the contents of his duffel in the laundry basket. They’d already shared a long, slow kiss, after which Jared licked his lips and whispered, “Have you been drinking my tea?”
“I didn’t see the point of another dinner,” Jared says. “I met the guy, he’s cool. I’m sure my brother can handle the intimidation just fine.”
“Did you have a good time?” Communication had been slow. Jensen figured Jared was too busy to call and the texts he’d received had little or nothing to do with Jared’s trip home.
Jared drops a kiss on Jensen’s temple on his way by. “I would’ve rather stayed here with you.”
“Tell me about Annie’s fiancé.” Jensen follows Jared into the kitchen.
“He’s some kind of lawyer, so he’s kind of a dick.” Jared reaches into the fridge for a beer and pops the top. Jensen’s stomach curdles. “I guess he’s okay. He bought dinner both nights.”
“Flashin’ the cash, huh?”
Jared shrugs.
“Well, since you’re home, you can join my couch party.”
“Actually, I was thinking we could go out,” Jared suggests. “Grab dinner out on the patio at Keegan’s. Maybe go to Torch later.”
“Wait…” Jensen’s hungover brain is sluggish. “You want to go clubbing? I cannot go clubbing, Jay.”
“Why not?”
Jensen looks down at his too-long flannel pants (which are Jared’s, he now realizes) and worn t-shirt. “Because I’m exhausted, man. You missed a helluva party last night.”
“Blake went wild on his birthday, huh?”
Jensen nods. “Seriously, trying to play basketball this morning was painful.”
“You actually played?” Jared laughs. “All of you?”
“At one point, Blake sat down on the court and forced us to play around him.”
Jensen moves towards the couch while filling Jared in on the insanity he’d missed, tacking one story on the end of another hoping Jared will give up on his idea. Another night out would probably render Jensen’s brain completely dysfunctional. But after wrapping up his tale of Ben and DJ’s Hawaiian cross-dressing antics, Jared brings it up again.
“So, are you gonna get dressed?”
“Nope,” Jensen says, all but swallowed up by the couch cushions.
“Please?”
“If I have any more alcohol, I’m going to die. Why do you want to go out?”
“I don’t know.” Jensen can feel Jared’s right leg bouncing against his thigh. “Every time I went to order a beer this weekend, my parents just shot me this look, you know? I couldn’t let loose. Hell, I could barely relax with my mom constantly hovering, wanting to talk.”
Jensen studies Jared’s profile, his pinched mouth and flared nostrils. “Are things okay?”
“Fine, but I never wanted to go in the first place. My parents just don’t understand the life I want to have.”
They want a life that’s no longer possible. Jensen flashes back to his truck-talk with Blake. Clearly Jared’s not alone with his post-combat family issues.
“I get it,” Jensen says.
“Do you?” Jared doesn’t sound convinced. “I just need my space.”
“So your solution is to go to a crowded club?”
Jared frowns and pushes up off the couch, starting to pace in front of the television. Jensen stands and snags Jared around the waist. “Hey, I know a few ways we can work off all this excess energy right here.”
That certainly gets Jared’s attention. His gaze bores into Jensen’s, restlessness burning away. “I thought you said you were tired.”
Jensen smirks and leads his boyfriend into the bedroom. “Who says I’ll be doing the work?”
Talk about a win-win situation. Jensen’s able to enjoy an afternoon in bed while Jared devotes his energy surplus to liquefy what’s left of Jensen’s brain. Jared spreads him out on the bed and unwraps him piece by piece, tongue traversing across his collarbones, snaking down his sternum.
Jensen revels in the affection, soaks up every touch and laughs when Jared nips low across his ribs. This feels so much better than the anxiety, the perfect balm for his ailments. Jared surges and takes his mouth, undulating against him and winding him up for more.
And then Jared breathlessly asks, “Can I rim you?”
Jensen must be asleep. This is a vivid dream brought on by too much alcohol and a mental pit of unfulfilled fantasies.
“Jen.” Jared taps the outside of his thigh. “If you need to think about it…”
“No,” he gasps. Jared’s eyebrow peaks. “I mean, I don’t need to think. Yes…hell yes, you can.”
Jared kisses him and mounts a thorough exploration of his mouth. Jensen rises into it, loops his arms around Jared’s broad back and holds him close, all that wonderful pressure on his chest. Too often, Jared’s the one on his back, owing to his injury, but Jensen loves the feeling of being pinned. Jared conquers and plunders with his tongue, a preview of his oral skills.
Jared scoots down the bed, his beautiful eyes hooded, and strokes his hands gently down Jensen’s legs. Without a word, he folds Jensen’s ankles against the back of his thighs, opening his body. Jared takes his time looking, caressing, and teasing the base of Jensen’s cock; Jensen doesn’t mind, letting the anticipation build for both of them.
He knows Jared’s never done this. More than once between sex and sleep, they’d rested together and whispered about their sexual cravings and experiences; somehow, rimming was at the top of Jared’s ‘I’ve Never…’ list. Jensen’s totally willing to be his one-and-only test subject.
And damn, Jared has been hiding some serious talent. His mouth is wide open and so, so wet. Jensen’s grateful he’d taken such a long shower to sweat out his hangover, because Jared’s enthusiasm is breathtaking. Literally. Jensen’s having trouble sucking air into his lungs. He can barely look at Jared’s proud forehead between his thighs, throwing his head back into the pillows. Absorbing all the different stimuli-Jared’s hair brushing against sensitive skin, his nose nudging up behind Jensen’s balls, and his tongue swirling like a maelstrom around his hole, flicking forward each time Jensen moans. Jared is a goddamn natural, and Jensen would tell him if his mouth wasn’t so dry from panting.
Jared is no slouch with his hands, either. He forces Jensen’s legs to stay wide while reaching for Jensen’s hand. Jensen squeezes his fingers through Jared’s, the back of his palm held fast to the bed, Jared’s grip the only restraint he wants or needs.
With a deep whimper, Jared breaks away, rapid breaths hitting Jensen’s tongue-bathed skin. He appears as wrecked as Jensen feels, as if he knows there’s no possible way for him to get everything he wants, but he plans to try regardless. He doesn’t lick his lips, but he does stare open-mouthed at Jensen’s fluttering hole. Jensen keens, uses his body to seduce, and finally Jared plunges back in, his tongue gyrating in a shallow spiral.
It’s obvious when Jensen’s about to come: his legs are shaking, nerves firing impulses that never make it north of his dick. Jared pushes up and drops his hot, overworked mouth onto Jensen’s cock just in time to swallow his load.
He must pass out for a minute, opening his eyes to see Jared standing next to the bed in his underwear, dick curved under that single layer of soft cotton. Jensen licks his lips, silently telling Jared to come hither. Jared leans down, his breath minty-fresh.
“Good?”
“I’ll let you know when I can feel my legs,” Jensen mutters. “You really earned your merit badge on that one. Anything else you want to try, feel free. I’m yours.”
Jared’s gaze is tender; most of the manic energy has bled away. The same can’t be said for Jared’s dick, his warm musky scent feeding Jensen’s senses, and he wastes no time reciprocating with his own oral exhibitions.
Jensen starts the new week thinking he successfully fucked the clubbing urge out of Jared’s mind. But come Wednesday afternoon, Jensen’s telling Jared that he can’t go out tonight over their coffee break.
Taking a night to let loose isn’t a bad idea, Jensen just can’t. Not tonight when he’s been invited to a client’s private dinner function, and with the way business is going, networking trumps his social life. Only later he finds out that Jared called Blake and together they’ve gathered a posse. That smells like trouble.
Common sense tells Jensen to argue, or compromise by offering to go out this weekend or inviting Jared to his work dinner. His chance for success on either option is slim. So he smiles and tells Jared to go without him.
Jensen gets home just before ten-thirty, hurries to change out of the suit he’s been wearing since that morning. He aches, notes a stiffness in his joints that isn’t normally there, and he vows to log one or two good runs this weekend along with a visit to the country club. These days, with Jared in his bed almost every night, Jensen’s motivation is easily bribed back into slumber by a kiss, a warm arm reaching around his chest. He hasn’t golfed in nearly three weeks.
Again, he considers asking Jared to move in with him. His house is spacious enough and Jared barely spends any time at his apartment unless he’s grabbing a nap after work or using his complex’s gym. There are pieces of Jared all over Jensen’s house-cowboy boots by the back door, colorful bags of candy in the cupboards, phone chargers tangled with Jensen’s behind the desk.
Still, Jensen hasn’t popped the question, struck by the hollowing fear that something’s missing.
Jensen doesn’t consciously make the decision to wait up, but he’s watching Netflix when his phone rings at a quarter ‘til twelve.
“Cindy?”
“Hey, Jensen,” Cindy says, voice nearly drowned out by the heavy twang of a country music station. “Blake called and asked me to pick him up. We’ve got Jared with us and we’re on our way to drop him off.”
“Where’s Jared’s truck?” he asks.
“At Mark’s, I think.” She repeats his question to whoever else is in the car, and Jensen finally hears Jared’s slurred voice in the background. Awesome. “Yeah, Jamie drove them earlier.” Cindy drops her voice, probably unnecessary given the level of noise around her. “He’s pretty drunk, Jensen.”
“It’s okay. Just bring him back here and I’ll take care of him.”
Ten minutes later, Jensen hears Jared stumbling in through the garage. Cindy walks in behind him. Jared stumbles right into Jensen’s arms, subjects him to a sloppy forehead kiss.
“How’s m’favorite suit?” Jared’s words run all over each other. “God, ‘m thirsty. We’ve got water right?” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Cindy staring at Jensen.
“Christ,” Jensen mutters. “It’s the middle of the week.”
“Blake’s just as bad,” Cindy says. “But he fell asleep so I left him out in the car.”
“You’re so nice.”
“What?” she smirks. “I cracked a window.”
They listen to Jared banging around in the kitchen, a scavenger hunt for his candy stashes, Jensen guesses. “Where’d they go tonight?”
Cindy sighs. “They had a couple drinks at Keegan’s, but they ended up at The Red Zone.”
Jensen groans. He’s familiar with the gay-friendly bar, even gone once or twice to shoot pool with some of his buddies. But their late-night atmosphere is geared more towards the bump ‘n grind kind of encounters, turning one room into a strobe-filled dance floor.
“The guys were cool with that?”
“I guess DJ and Ben were there for a while, too,” Cindy tells him, wincing when Jared gets frustrated with a cupboard drawer, shoving it back into place from the sound of things. “And you know Blake and Mark, they’re cool with anything. I kinda think Blake likes getting hit on,” she adds with a humorous quirk to her lips. “But he was arguing with Jared in the car-something about the guys Jared was dancing with.”
“Jared was?” Jensen finds himself wishing for the burn of alcohol in his stomach. “Did he-”
“No,” she says quickly, “I didn’t hear anything like that. Blake just kept yelling that Jared went a little too far with one of them. And he told Jared that he couldn’t ‘start this shit up’ all over again just because he had a rough weekend, or something.” She shrugs. “Sorry, it was kinda hard to listen to all that while I was concentrating on the road.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you brought him home.”
“You guys wan’ any pizza?” Jared yells from the kitchen. “I’m gonna make some.”
“I should go,” Cindy says, “before Blake wakes up and thinks I abandoned him. You’d better…” She waves towards the kitchen. Jensen hears the oven being turned on. “Yeah, have fun with him!”
Once Cindy leaves, Jensen puts a stop to Jared’s late night culinary urges and convinces him to come to bed instead. Jared says nothing about the club while Jensen helps him into something comfortable enough to pass out. He swallows two ibuprofen without protest and complains about his leg as Jensen climbs into bed with him.
“Haven’t danced like that ‘n a while,” Jared says, poking at his thigh. Jensen grabs his fingers and pulls them away. “Think I overdid it, Jen. Prob’ly gonna hurt tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should take the day off,” Jensen suggests, killing the light on his side of the bed. “I’ll call Rich when I wake up so that you can sleep in.”
Jared struggles over onto his stomach. “Too good to me, Jen,” he mumbles around the pillow shoved under his face. “The best suit I know.” His arm’s like a boa constrictor, wrapping around Jensen and drawing him close. Jensen doesn’t try to escape, listening carefully to the unfiltered confessions whispered across his cheek.
“Should’ve been there tonight. I don’t know why I-” he cuts himself off, nuzzles into the pillow and tightens his hold on Jensen as if he could evaporate. “Had t’show everyone I’m okay. ‘M not broken. Right, Jen?”
Jared’s snoring lightly a few seconds later, leaving Jensen struggling to come up with an answer.
“You’re worried about Jared, aren’t you?” Cindy asks, and Jensen realizes he’s been staring at the coffee machine in the break room for five minutes.
At the table, Melanie looks up from her spinach wrap. She makes an overly affectionate sound. “You’re still dating the security guard? That’s so sweet.”
Jensen nods. He grabs his mugs and leads Cindy back to his office.
Cindy takes her usual chair. “Was he okay this morning?”
“Better than I expected,” Jensen admits. “He called out sick.”
Despite his hangover this morning, Jared had acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Jensen had decided not to tell him about the nightmares.
“Blake wanted to, but he couldn’t get the time off.”
“Jared hides it pretty well, but I think something’s been plaguing him for a while.”
Cindy sighs. “These guys…it’s like their brains don’t work the same way. Their responses to things are different than ours would be. If you have a bad day, maybe you stay home and watch movies. Get close to someone. But when a combat veteran has a bad day, they can explode from the inside.
“I knew a lot of my dad’s friends from the service,” she continues while Jensen warms his heart with coffee. “They were like uncles to me. Each one reacted differently to the things they’d experienced overseas. I remember Tom, one of my dad’s best friends, threw himself into community service. He joined every Habitat for Humanity project in town, flew overseas to rebuild schools and homes after natural disasters. Which sounds fine, but his wife filed for divorce because he was never home.
“There was this other guy, Brent, who got arrested after he joined up with a group of guys who were planning to rob a bank.” Cindy shudders. “I mean, Brent was a totally normal guy before he went to Iraq. No one expected him to come back and become a criminal.”
“I don’t think Jared’s going to be robbing banks anytime soon,” Jensen says, shielding his anxiety behind a smirk. “He complains when he needs to cash a check.”
Cindy’s been exposed to military life since she was a kid; her insight is invaluable. Jensen had only gotten a taste from the Citadel, but a regimented education was nothing like true service. If only he’d accepted a place in officer training after graduation, he might be able to help Jared more than he is now.
“Blake’s got issues, too,” Cindy says. “I guarantee that everyone in the basketball group is working through something.”
“I’m not dating all of them,” Jensen mutters.
“I know. It’s harder when it’s happening to somebody we love.”
Jensen blushes. Cindy must see it, but she declines to comment. Probably because her cheeks are a matching shade of pink.
When Jensen gets home and Jared’s truck isn’t in the driveway, he pulls a U-turn and heads to Jared’s apartment. Before his conversation with Cindy (and since when did he rely so much on other people’s advice?), Jensen might have given Jared his space, but not anymore. He can’t leave the wound to fester.
Sure enough, the truck is in one of the handicap spaces outside Jared’s building. He must still be in pain to pull out his parking decal. Jensen parks, grabs the boxes of pizza and wings he’d picked up for dinner, and heads in without calling. At the very least, they’ll have it out on full stomachs.
The door’s unlocked; Jared’s on the couch, expression switching quickly from surprise to confusion when Jensen walks in.
“I brought dinner,” he announces, setting the food on the counter. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I oughta retire from dancing,” Jared says, meeting Jensen in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
Jensen indicates the greasy buffet. “I promised you pizza, remember? I thought you were coming back to the house after you’d picked up the truck.”
“I felt kinda weird,” Jared admits, staring at the floor. “I get that I was a mess last night.”
Suddenly, Jensen finds the laminate fascinating, too. “It happens.”
They divide slices as if it’s a chore, focusing on the food instead of the weighted silence. It hits Jensen: this is a fight.
Jared eats on the couch while Jensen stays at the counter picking at the wings, stomach rolling with all that spice and salt. He starts munching on the celery instead, but he can only stand the silence for so long.
“You need to talk to me,” Jensen says.
Jared inhales deeply through his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”
Jensen wishes that was an option. “Apparently you had a pretty good time last night.”
“What? Am I not allowed to have fun?” Jared’s eyes harden into steel. “Am I just supposed to sit at home and watch war documentaries, crying into my beer? Be the broken man everyone expects me to be?”
There’s that word again. Broken. So many issues in one outburst, Jensen doesn’t have a chance to note all of them.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now,” Jensen tries to explain what he’s feeling. “I mean, I was fine with you going out, but hitting on other guys-”
“Who said I was hitting on them?”
“Jared-”
“No, Jen, you know me. I wouldn’t do that.”
Jensen sighs. That’s not the point he’s trying to make either. “Do I know you, Jared? Really?” When Jared doesn’t respond, the words start pouring out of Jensen, burning like acid in his esophagus. “I know how you like your meat cooked. I know which side of the bed you’d rather sleep on. I know how you treat people, and I know your favorite movies. But there’s so much I don’t know about you,” he pleads, crossing to the couch.
Challenged, Jared stands and faces him. “What you just said…that’s not enough?”
“If this is going somewhere”-Jensen motions between their chests-“I need a little bit more. I want to know why you were so desperate to go out, what made you hit on random guys.” Jensen wills himself to be calmer. “You can ask me anything, Jay. About my past, present, or future, and I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
The way Jared is clenching his jaw looks painful, but Jensen maintains eye-contact. Jared may not understand it yet, but Jensen’s fighting for him.
“What if I can’t?” Jared asks.
“There must be something you can talk to me about.”
Jensen sees the signs too late: the tic between Jared’s lip and nose, the quick flash of a sneer, the emptiness in his eyes. Jared’s primed and ready to attack.
“Want me to talk about the guys I slept with after I got out of the hospital?” Jared advances. “Every guy I fucked because I couldn’t get over the fact that I was able to walk? Or, maybe you want to hear about the guys who refused to touch me afterwards when they saw my scars?”
Jensen breathes through his nose, in and out. He refuses to let Jared bait him. “I’m not going to get angry over things you did before we met, Jared. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You sure about that?” Jared asks. “’Cause I’d be pissed if I found out my boyfriend used guys the same way criminals use cell phones. I liked ‘em easy and disposable.”
“You’ve said this all before,” Jensen points out. Jared had confessed his less-than-admirable sexual history-albeit with fewer vulgarities-after Ben’s car accident and subsequent outburst. Jensen hadn’t held him accountable then either. Who was he to judge? “Back then, you slept around to prove you could. And you’ve changed, Jared.”
“Have I?” The question contains more sadness and less anger as Jared goes from sixty-to-zero in a heartbeat. “When I was out there dancing…something hurt inside my chest, Jen. It was like I’d just been released from the hospital all over again. I just needed to forget for a little while; I needed to feel! I don’t think I really knew what I was doing, but when I realized…”
Jared collapses onto the couch. Jensen quickly sits beside him.
“I meant what I said,” Jensen tells him, scooting closer without touching Jared yet. “I’m not angry. I’m just…” He scrambles for the right words and discovers that they’ve been there all along. “I love you, Jared. There’s nothing I won’t try to fix for you, and I know that sounds crazy and weird, but I’m so goddamn invested in you-so fucking in love with you, that I-”
Jensen realizes that Jared isn’t breathing; his eyes are wide and wet, reflecting the shock Jensen feels at his sudden and unplanned admission.
“You mean that?”
Jensen can’t help laughing. Of all the things he could have responded with… “Oh my god, Jared. Of course I mean it.” He leans into Jared’s arms, uses the embrace to keep from exploding into a thousand pieces.
“Jen…” Jared maneuvers him up to eye level, pressing their faces close. “You know I love you, too, right?”
Jensen sniffs. “You’d better.”
“Shit.” Jared’s voice is shaky, barely more than air. “The things I said…I’m so fucking sorry. And after you brought me pizza, too.”
Jensen laughs again. When his emotions finally settle, he’s practically winded, exhausted from the roller-coaster ride. At his side, Jared’s a boneless mass, lips pressed against Jensen’s shoulder. They’ve abandoned dinner, now a cold pile of grease, and neither of them pays attention to the television (stuck on Sportscenter since Jensen came over). Jensen can just barely reach the remote, clicking the room into silence.
“You’re not broken,” he whispers, feels Jared’s breath catch in his lungs. “But I want you to tell me when you’re not okay. I’ll help, even when that means letting you hit on me as often as you want.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely,” Jensen says. “Now how about we clean up and go home?”
PART FOUR CONTINUED.