our parts are slightly used | part two

[kelleigh]

Jared leans his crutches against the bookshelf and sits in the empty chair, already ticked off that these bastards make him come to them. He had asked once why someone couldn’t meet him in his hospital room, but the only response he received was some bullshit about getting him up and moving. No fuckin’ sympathy for the guy with the bad leg.

Whatever, Jared only needs to put up with these sessions until they green-light him for active duty again. Maybe today’s his lucky day.

“Good morning, Sergeant.”

Today’s headshrinker doesn’t look up from Jared’s file, studying his military personnel records jacket as she sits behind her desk. She gives him a rank and a name, but Jared doesn’t bother to remember either-he’s had a different psychiatrist every time. All he needs to know right now is that she ranks above him, and that she’s standing between Jared and a C17 flight back to Afghanistan.

“How’s your physical therapy progressing, Sergeant?” she asks.

“Fine.” Jared knows full well she has a copy of his therapist’s notes. He’s been pushing himself hard, desperate to get out of this dull hospital. “Getting stronger every day, ma’am.”

“That’s good. You won’t have much trouble transitioning to civilian life then.” She closes his jacket. “Given any thought to what you want to do?"

Jared blinks. “Ma’am?”

“You have options, of course,” the shrink says. “Going back to school under the G.I. Bill, signing up as a recruiter.”

“I-” Suddenly Jared feels awkward in his hospital pants and t-shirt. He longs for the weight of his gear or the tight fit of his dress uniform. “I was planning to head back once I was done here.”

His shrink sighs. Jared knows what that sound means, and it’s the last thing he wants to hear. Opening another file, she begins reading. “Roadside bombing, two and a half months ago.”

Jared closes his eyes and clenches his teeth, praying he won’t have to listen to the entire thing. No such luck.

“Multiple shrapnel wounds, a fractured pelvis, and a dislocated shoulder. Burns covering almost eight percent of your body, mostly on your left leg and hip, and you’ve lost thirty percent of the muscle mass in that same leg.” She sets the file back on her desk. “I’m sorry, Jared.”

Using his name is worse than sighing.

“In your condition, you wouldn’t pass the physical for active duty.”

“I’ll get better, ma’am,” Jared insists. “I’ll double the amount of physical therapy, attend any training program they ask me to.”

“Not every injury can be healed, Sergeant.” She must have noticed how uncomfortable it made Jared to hear his name instead of his rank. No one can take his rank, not even this fucking psychiatrist.

“I’m afraid you won’t be cleared for active duty, now or in the future.”

Jared refuses to break down in front of his one-and-done shrink. He turns his face away, unable to look at her bland expression. She doesn’t care about him; she must see a dozen broken soldiers every day. Jared is file and a case number, nothing more. She has no right to see his pain.

He sits through the rest of the appointment, responding only when he needs to. The shrink must not care about the answers he’s giving because he only sees her write one note at the end of their session. As he hobbles back to his room, underarms aching from the crutches, he wonders what the note said. He doesn’t have to wonder for very long.

Two days later, a smiling doctor tells him that he’s being released. Jared forces himself to smile back, but inside he feels nothing.

The Army no longer wants him. What the hell is he supposed to do now?



"Hold the elevator!"

Jensen silently thanks his luck when a big hand reaches out and stays the elevator doors on Monday. His morning's booked solid and he can't afford a delay. Hoisting his overloaded bag higher onto his shoulder, Jensen turns into the elevator and comes face to face with Jared.

"Going up?"

“Hey!” Jensen's face breaks out into a grin so wide, his cheeks hurt. "Morning."

On Sunday morning, Jensen had run for so long, his hips went numb. Running was the only kind of therapy Jensen could afford. Not even a leisurely round of golf had settled his mind, and Warren was more than happy to comment on his constant distraction.

With the idea of a kiss out in the open, things had changed. Jensen wondered if he would have been working out his issues on the pavement and the fairways until he was nothing but sweat and sore muscles if Jared hadn’t been so lackadaisical and droopy after his massage. If Jensen’s hands would have been allowed to wander further…

He and Jared are the only ones inside the elevator. Jensen is thankful he gets a moment to breathe, a blessed moment of peace with the man he’d looked forward to seeing since Saturday afternoon. Jared releases his hold on the doors and pushes the button for the seventh floor.

"Guess you know where I'm heading,” Jensen says. “Where are you going?”

“My desk.” The doors close. Jared’s smile reflects back at Jensen from every mirrored surface. “But I don’t mind taking another trip up and down.”

Jared looks Jensen over with a disarming thoroughness, from the healthy flush Jensen feels lighting up his cheeks to the leather bag threatening to dislocate his shoulder.

"Looks like you've got a crazy morning."

"You have no idea," Jensen huffs. The elevator jerks as it starts up, a slow creak of overworked gears behind the metal walls. "I'm literally stepping off of this elevator and walking right into a meeting that's gonna suck. And I have no idea if anyone catered breakfast, 'cause I'm already starving." He laughs to cover up the growl in his stomach. "Sometimes Mondays really do suck, but I guess we all have to-"

He's swiftly shut up when Jared leans down and kisses him square on the lips. It's over in an instant but it's definitely a kiss. Jensen's barely given a chance to test the pressure of Jared's lips before they're no longer touching his.

"What was that?" Without Jared's lips there to stop them, the words slip right out of Jensen's mouth.

"That was me cutting to the chase," Jared says, his dimples in full effect. If they weren’t slowly being pulled upwards in a small, metal box, Jensen would reach out and trace the curve of each one. "I didn't want to be thinking about it all day, freaking out that I messed things up on Saturday."

Jensen's shocked, to say the least, but he feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It's one less thing to worry about; he and Jared are definitely on the same page. Given the drugs Jared had taken, Jensen wondered if Jared would even remember the massage or his dopey come-on.

"Good.” Jensen exhales. “Okay."

Jared cocks his eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Jensen sighs. "I was gonna talk to you at some point, but..."

"I know. It's a crazy day for you," Jared finishes for him. "Hopefully I didn't make it worse."

"Definitely better," Jensen says, tipping his chin up and bringing his lips back into Jared's line of sight. "You really have no idea."

Jared’s hand slips around Jensen's hip, tugging him ever so slightly closer. The pull jars Jensen's muscles and he hisses against Jared's lips.

"Are you sore?"

"I overdid my run yesterday, it's no big deal."

Jared doesn't coddle him, but he lets Jensen slip out of his hold. "Bet you wish you could give yourself a massage. I mean, because of your hands…" Jared whistles. "I'm still feeling good."

Jensen's eye turns clinical. "You're not feeling that same tightness across your back?"

"It's a lot better."

Meaning it’s better than Jared is used to, Jensen thinks. That's enough to ease Jensen's mind for now.

"Am I gonna see you later?"

"I sure as hell hope so," Jensen jokes as the doors open and he steps out into EKI's corporate chaos, his cheeks warm. "If I haven't emerged by dinnertime, you need to come and rescue me."

Jared’s smile is the last thing Jensen sees before the elevator doors close and he’s swallowed up by his crazy day.



On Wednesday morning, a Facebook friend request from ‘Jared Tristan’ pops up on Jensen's computer. The name throws him for a second until he remembers Jared mentioning that most soldiers refrained from using full names on social networks. Jensen clicks over from the spreadsheet he's been staring at blankly for fifteen minutes, and accepts right away. They've known one another for a month, which is way past Jensen's standard one-week waiting period for confirming friends.

There are large gaps in his timeline, which Jensen matches to Jared’s time on active duty, but there’s more than enough on his page to keep him occupied for the rest of the morning while his spreadsheet languishes on the desktop.

That afternoon, before Jensen can their coffees down, Jared stands and waves him into the service hallway. "Let's go, I'm on break."

Break or not, they usually hang out in the lobby until Jensen has to trudge upstairs, but Jared's reason for absconding with him to the hallway is clear as soon as Jensen sets the two cups at the small, utilitarian café table just inside the back door.

"Hey."

The tail-end of the word is whispered right against Jensen's lips as Jared bends to kiss him. It passes like a light breeze, pressure that's gone as quickly as it came, but Jensen's mouth pulls into a reflexive smile. He knows he's blushing before he feels the heat.

"Should I be offended that you didn't want to do that in the lobby?"

Jared's eyebrows give weight to his suddenly heavy stare. "Oh, I didn't-sorry, I was just trying to be discreet."

Jensen lays his hand over the thick texture of Jared's jacket. "I was kidding, it's okay." He'd expected a few road bumps, honestly, and settles this one smoothly. "Now, drink the coffee I slaved over."

Sitting in chairs that definitely were not built with grown men in mind, they while away Jared's entire break. Jared launches into a recap of a game Jensen had missed the night before and pretty soon, they're both looking down at their last sips of coffee.

“Got a busy afternoon?" Jared asks.

"Just a CYA meeting at 3:30. I can head out whenever that wraps up."

"Cover Your Ass, huh?" Jared laughs. "Sounds like a headache."

"More often than not," Jensen tells him as he licks a drop of coffee from his upper lip. "There's a lot of griping and people attempting to reassign things." He doesn't need to look up to know Jared's watching him; he does it again and feels pleasantly smug when Jared's fingers dig dents into the thick paper cup. "But anyway, I meant to ask if you have plans Friday after your class."

"Roller and I are done with the class for now," Jared says, easing up on his cup. "It was only eight weeks, but we might teach it again during summer session. So no," he shakes his head, "I'm free. What's up?"

"This guy I work with just got engaged, and his friends planned a party-thing at this bar I've never heard of. Just a congratulations, no big deal."

"You're really selling this," Jared says. "C'mon, just ask."

Jensen pouts. "Fine. I was wondering if you could ask DJ if he wants to go with me. You know, 'cause I need a date."

"You are such a dick," Jared laughs, not bothering to feign offense. "And DJ's not your type."

"Seriously? Got any other suggestions?" Jensen fishes.

"I think I know someone who might be able to stomach the idea of going out with you."

Jensen leans over the table. "Does this guy have a name? Tristan, maybe?”

Grinning, Jared cuts the distance between them. “Someone’s been stalking me on the internet.”

Before Jensen can respond, he’s treated to a caramel-laced kiss. The sugar seeps into his blood, obscures the thought that they’re crazy to do this here, where anyone could find them, but Jensen can’t resist the taste of whipped milk on his lips, the mocha tongue swirling with his.

Caffeine has never tasted so sweet.



Friday night, Jensen meets Jared on the sidewalk outside the club. Kobalt with a K, Jensen notices with a full eye-roll.

Jared hasn’t noticed his arrival, so Jensen takes a moment to check him out, appreciating the change-up in Jared's style. Dark jeans cover everything but the tips of his leather cowboy boots, two full sizes larger than the ones Jensen's wearing, and those are topped with a narrow-tailored sweater the color of melted chocolate. The seams on the sweater are perfect and unstretched; it has to be new. The second time Jared runs his hand through his hair, sighing as it falls back around his temples, Jensen steps up.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to park on the top level of that garage."

"Sucks to be you," Jared says. He pulls Jensen into a casual, one-armed hug. "I got a handicapped spot."

"Then you can drive me up to my car later."

"Deal.” Jared looks up at the club’s neon sign. “We going in?"

Jensen takes a deep breath. Half the people he works with are probably inside celebrating Paul's recent engagement. Paul and Jensen aren’t close-they've never really hung out beyond the walls of EKI-but Jensen shouldn't shirk any more social functions with his coworkers. He doesn't want to be that guy.

"Come on." Jared nudges his shoulder, steering him towards the entrance. "I didn't get dressed up for you to bail."

"I like the sweater," Jensen says as they walk into the swanky bar. "All that brown makes you look like a teddy bear."

"A sexy one?"

"Is there such a thing?" Jensen smirks, falling into a full grin when Jared cuffs the back of his head affectionately.

Kobalt's main bar is a metal and frosted glass contraption lit from behind with a soft blue glow. Jared doesn't lean on it and Jensen follows suit. He doesn't want to crush the damn thing. When Jensen's request for a Coors Light is shot down with a scowl from the bartender, Jared orders them each a Fat Tire.

"It's good, trust me," Jared says. He pays before Jensen can reach for his wallet. "I've got this round. Where's your group?"

The publicity minions from EKI are gathered in a corner, guarding a couch and several black stools, and it's hard to say which choice of seating looks more uncomfortable. Jared gives him a nod after Jensen asks if they can just stand instead.

Most of the group recognizes Jared from passing him at the security desk every day, and Jared trades a few friendly handshakes. Jensen introduces him to Melanie's husband Turner and a few others Jared's never met. He doesn't use the word boyfriend and Jared never corrects him.

It's not as if they've had a chance to do anything beyond kissing, let alone talk terms.

Only an hour into the party, with their beers empty, Jensen's ready to ditch the place. Jared's tolerating conversations with other people, but Jensen notices his eyes wandering or retreating into idle thought. When there's an opening, Jensen insinuates himself between Jared and Melanie, stealing the man away.

"I don't really think this is my kind of place," he says.

Jared sets their empty glasses on a spindly cocktail table and grins.

"Thank god, I was starting to worry."

"Wanna head somewhere else?"

"They're your friends..."

Jensen waves that off and wastes no time saying goodbye. He follows Jared out onto the sidewalk, a rant already on his tongue.

"Seriously. What kind of bar is too expensive to drink at, too pretentious to dance at, and too uptight to relax at?"

"Not my kind of bar," Jared agrees.

"Want to head to Keegan's?" Jensen consciously tempers his stride to match Jared's. "I know you got all dolled up, so I'd hate to waste the outfit by sending you home early."

Jared winks. "You'd better make the most of me like this."

Keegan's is a world away from the stuffy atmosphere at Kobalt. Jared's eyes lose their tightness as soon as he's able to stretch out in one of the wide leather booths. Even Jensen sighs when he sits down, laying his arms over the back of the booth.

"So much better," Jared says, pulling two folded menus out of the napkin holder at the end of the table. "I could eat. Want to share a plate of chicken quesadillas?"

On the flat-screen behind the bar, NFL Classic is featuring one of last season's snow-bowls (the Patriots versus the Bears). A server arrives to take their order within minutes, dropping off two beers on her next pass. This is way more Jensen's speed. Casual setting, decent food, and a date who won’t end up in pain from standing around awkwardly for hours.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Jared asks.

Jensen finds it easier to flirt when he's relaxed, and he smirks. "For kicking your ass?"

"Hell no. The couples rule is firmly back in effect," Jared says, dropping an unmistakable hint. "There's no way I want a repeat of last week's mayhem. You're too quick. Covering your ass is hard."

Jensen grins. Too easy.

"Harder than trying to guard your freakishly large wingspan? No way, man."

"Makes it easy to take jump-shots over midgets like you. How short are you anyway?"

"You're hilarious," Jensen drawls.

"So people tell me."

Their quesadilla is warm and spicy, Texas Pete's hotsauce mixed in with the cheddar and pepper-jack. With a mouthful of cheese and blackened chicken, Jared moans indecently and Jensen starts thinking ahead to some possible late-night fun. He's tailored plenty of fantasies to include Jared's broad back and narrow waist, and he thinks about licking the sweat off his throat and seeing just what he's got between his legs.

They each finish their second beer and call it quits.

"Any more and I'll be hurtin' on the court tomorrow," Jared says.

"I could give you a massage tonight if you want."

Jared's eyes turn warm and he smiles. "Tempting, but I don't want to be a total Gumby in the morning, and your massages...well, it'd be awesome, but my legs would turn to mush."

"Hey, these hands are magic," Jensen jokes, wiggling his fingers on the table. "You just say the word, and they're yours."

"That so?"

Jensen suddenly wishes he had another beer to drink from, because the bar feels ten degrees hotter. He clears his throat instead.

"We should head out, don't you think?"

Glancing at his watch, Jared says. "Yeah. We've both gotta be fresh since we'll be back on the same team."

"Couples rule, huh?"

Jared nods, telling Jensen everything he needs to know. His heart jumps so hard it skips a beat and continues its little dance all the way out into the parking lot after they settle their tab. Since Jared had driven them over from Kobalt, they pile into his truck and head back to the parking garage. Jensen leans back in the passenger seat and watches the evolution of Jared's smile-from a twist in the right corner, to a small, unconscious grin, to a full blown smile with teeth when he notices Jensen staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jensen says, "you just get all flustered when I stare at you for too long."

"I know I'm pretty, you don't have to act like such a stalker, man."

"You always give your stalkers rides?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

Jared looks over, smirk lit up as he speeds under a streetlight. "You'll have to figure that out. Gotta let me have a little mystery to keep you interested."

He pulls the truck into an empty spot beside Jensen's Acura and lets the engine idle. All those plans Jensen had conjured for how the rest of the night might go have faded, but not disappointingly. If Jensen bypasses the demands of his dick and is honest, he's not ready to get Jared into bed. He's willing, but there's a difference, and he doesn’t want Jared to end up as another notch on his (mostly un-notched) bedpost. He can't say that out loud, but Jared may understand given the way he turns and looks over at Jensen.

"I'd ask you back to my place…" Jared begins, and Jensen naturally finishes his thought. "But it's late, and we have the game."

Smile going soft, Jensen nods. "Right."

Their stares lock for a second beyond casual. Jensen leans across the console to find Jared's lips meeting him halfway. Whether he gets more out of tonight or not, Jensen can't not kiss Jared; it's a physical impossibility. If he'd paid attention in math all those years ago, he could come up with an equation, or possibly a graph, about how his ability to resist kissing Jared came out pretty close to zero.

Jared's tongue distracts him, the insistent manner with which it coaxes Jensen away from any other thoughts. They kiss thoroughly but quietly, only the thinnest splinter of light from the parking garage sneaking between Jensen's barely opened eyelids. He tries pulling Jared deeper into the kiss but stops when he hears a bitten-off gasp.

The skin over the bridge of Jared's nose is tight and he's in the middle of a deep, measured exhale.

"What's wrong?"

"Just turned the wrong way," Jared says twisting forward in small increments. "I felt a wrench in my back, but it's going away."

Jensen watches carefully to pick out any deeper pains, but Jared only sighs when he's facing the windshield.

"I think it's okay, just a twinge."

An offer to give Jared another massage is on the tip of Jensen's tongue, but he holds it back. "I should take off anyway." Jared pouts at that, and he adds, "Clearly, if I stay, you're gonna be tempted to kiss me and hurt your back again."

"So, you're the irresistible one here?"

Jensen's smile hurts his cheeks. "Hey, you said it."

A few minutes and one easy-on-the-spine kiss later, Jensen's out of the truck and watching Jared drive away. And since he's alone with his car and a wide open sky, he doesn't bother wiping the grin off his face.



Jared picks teams and Jensen rolls his eyes as he, Jared, Jamie, and Jimmy all end up on the yellow squad. Plus Mark, who hits Jared in the shoulder and says, "Dude, you're so weird." The only player who's not amused with the lineup is Ben; he slumps along at the outside of the group, tugging on his red wristband.

As the teams talk strategy, Jensen catches Jared watching Ben. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." Jared turns back to the huddle. "Nothing to worry about. You up for a challenge?"

"You mean, am I up for guarding Blake?"

"Basically," Jared says with a grin. "It's either him or Ben, and Ben looks like he's ready to kick someone's ass."

"So you're taking one for the team, huh?" Jimmy asks, slapping Jared on the hip with a gloved hand. "Way to play, man."

The yellow squad breaks their huddle, Jensen following Jared to the other side of the court. Jared turns and grabs Jensen's wrist, fingers lightly teasing the thin skin on the underside of his forearm under the guise of unscrunching Jensen's wristband.

"Hey!" They look up and see Ben glaring at them. "Try not to bump dicks too much out on the court today," Ben calls. Jensen frowns-there's nothing friendly behind Ben's taunt-but Jared shakes his head.

"Speaking of dicks," Jared yells, both squads taking notice, "are you trying your best to be one?" He's grinning, but it's too tight at the corners to be genuine. Ben opens his mouth, something venomous in his eyes, but DJ puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "C'mon, dude. Let's just play."

The first game's as rough as Jensen predicted last night, tension pulling everyone's strings. Even Jimmy and Jamie, consistently the most good-natured players, are scowling more than smiling. Jared is stuck covering Ben whose mood hasn't improved. Ben's rougher than necessary, every move combative as he tries to keep Jared from scoring a layup. Jensen can see the strain it's putting on Jared's leg and he wants to step up, get in Ben's face about it, but he's still the outsider in the group-Jensen doesn't want to risk making things worse by overstepping his bounds.

At the break, Jensen grabs a seat next to Jared on the bleachers. "You doing alright? That game got a little heated."

Jared winces. "Tell me about it. Ben's just like...I don't know. He's got it in for me today. I wonder what I did to piss him off."

"Let me guard him."

"You sure?"

"Not really," Jensen keeps his tone light. "But if we're gonna come back and win the next game, we need you open. I'll draw Ben off you." He doesn't bring up Jared's leg or his obvious fatigue, leaving Jared free to turn him down.

"Thanks. We'll put Mark on Blake-he's faster-and I'll take Lincoln." Jared fiddles with Jensen's wristband again, almost an unconscious gesture of comfort, looking distracted. Jensen drinks enough water to cool the burn in his lungs and ignores the way Ben's staring in their direction.

The second game is worse.

As soon as Jensen replaces Jared in the man-on-man coverage, Ben's attitude goes from cold to downright hostile. He comes hard on defense, shoving and swinging at Jensen whenever he has the ball, but he doesn't let up when Jensen passes off to another player. Normally, the teams call their own fouls, but no one's calling anything today, too busy trying to salvage the game from the tension. After one particularly dirty maneuver where Jensen's nearly tripped, Jared calls Ben out.

"Hey, man! Watch it!"

"Just trying to keep your fuck buddy from scoring," Ben throws back, eyes on Jensen.

"C'mon guys"-that's Mark butting in-"let's just finish this game. And Ben? Cool it, seriously."

Ben tones down the bodily assault when the next play starts, using words to jab at Jensen instead. The barbs are harder to bear than Ben's court attack.

"Need your boyfriend to stand up for you, huh, Jensen? I can see why he likes fucking you. Great ass, and you won't put up a fight. I bet you just roll over and give it up."

Jensen dribbles past Ben the next time he has the ball, driving his elbow deliberately into Ben's side but the guy just won't let up.

"Jared will be through with you soon enough. His boys never stick around for long, and you're no different."

Before today, Jensen's never looked upon Ben as anything but a decent guy: funny, upbeat, and constantly flirting with DJ thinking they're being discreet. That opinion sinks faster than a boulder in water as Ben continues spitting vulgarities at Jensen, tone low enough to keep his words between the two of them. There's a part of Jensen that's glad Jared can't hear, or that pained scowl on Jared's face might morph into a physical reaction.

Jensen's relieved when the game finally ends, the yellow squad victorious despite Ben's interference. Players are hunched over, catching their breath, and celebrations kept to a minimum until Mark wheezes and says, "Damn, that was nuts. Miracle victory for the J-squad."

Clearly it's meant as a joke, but Jensen can see the moment Ben snaps.

"The J-squad? Are you fucking serious?"

"Ben-"

But Ben rolls right through DJ's attempt to cut him off. "No, I'm fucking sick of y'all treating this guy"-he jabs a finger in Jensen's direction-"like he's a part of this group. He's just the dude Jared happens to be banging this week, and he'll be outta here as soon as Jared drops him for someone else!"

"Whoa, Ben! You are outta line, man." Dragging his left leg, Jared tries to move between Ben and the group. Beyond listening, Ben throws his hands up and catches Jared's arm, knocking him off balance and sending Jared into a backwards sprawl.

Fortunately Jensen's there to catch him before his leg buckles, hauling Jared up against his chest. Back to front, it's some of the most significant physical contact they've shared, but it's under the wrong circumstances.

"Hey, hey, hey!" It's Blake's turn to step up, breaking away from the rest of the shocked faces. "That's enough!" Ben doesn't stand down and immediately Mark joins the human blockade between Jared and Ben. DJ comes forward, albeit more reluctantly, with his expression set in stone.

Suddenly Jensen understands what he's seeing. Blake, Mark, DJ, and Jared-they’d all served together overseas. Their bond goes deeper than friendship; it's a different kind of fraternity. A true band of brothers. Jensen's seeing them as a unit for the first time, and it's an intimidating sight.

Caitlin and Jamie are left staring. Jimmy's got his hands on his wheels and Lincoln's ready to jump forward.

"Guys, let's just…" Jared sighs, pushing away from Jensen's chest. "Everybody chill.”

"The hell with this," Ben says, turning and stomping off towards the locker room. DJ reaches out to stop him but the contact falls short, and then he's gone and the rest of the group is left silent in his wake.

Ben's vicious words come back to Jensen when he and Jared are in the VA parking lot fidgeting with their gym bags. Jared hasn't said anything since Ben stalked off and the rest of the group splintered to do whatever it is they do with their Saturday afternoons. Jensen waits for Jared to break the silence; anything Jensen says will get muddled in confusion and volatile emotion. He's not angry, he's just...well, he's just waiting.

"Today was shit," Jared mutters. "I didn't know things were gonna get so bad."

"How would you have known?"

Jared shakes his head, voice developing a sharp edge. "I can't believe Ben. I mean, I can't believe he would say stuff like that, start shit after he and I...I don't know. Maybe something happened."

"The things Ben said-"

"Jensen, don't. Please."

Going against a number of misgivings, Jensen doesn't pursue it. He watches Jared stir and fume, teeth biting into the skin above his lip. Instead, he says, "Do you want to grab lunch or come over?"

Jared relaxes and it looks like he might say yes, but then DJ walks out of the rec center, head hung low. Jared's eyes follow DJ all the way to the bus stop in front of the center before he turns back to Jensen.

"I think I'm gonna stick around, talk to DJ. Maybe he knows what happened. Do you-"

"No," Jensen says. "I'll head home. I've got some work."

"Sure, sure." Jared scratches the back of his neck, tries to show Jensen that he's alright, but Jensen's not buying it. "I'll call you later, okay?"

He yanks Jensen into a hug before he can decide how to respond. Jensen would write it off as a totally casual, strictly-friends gesture, except for the way Jared's fingers curl into his shirt and his breath shakes across Jensen's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jensen."

Until he hears it, Jensen doesn't realize that he's been waiting for an apology. He commits to the hug, laying his palm over Jared's shoulder blade, and he hopes Jared understands that he can talk to Jensen about this.

"Go do what you need to do. Call me whenever, I should be around." Jensen walks away and when he gets to his car, Jared's still standing by his truck, eyes on the faded yellow paint beneath his feet.



“I see I’ll be winning some of my money back,” Warren remarks as Jensen bogeys on the tenth hole. “Is something wrong?”

Jensen whacks his putter against the green.

“Trouble with your soldier?”

“You could say that,” Jensen tells him, angrily marking his card.

Warren silently presses him, cloudy eyes prying for information. The sky is a similar shade of gray, a stiff breeze keeping most golfers off the course this morning. It feels as if Jensen and Warren have the back nine to themselves, so he lingers on the eleventh tee and gives Warren the basics, tells his friend how helpless he’d felt in the face of Ben’s outburst and Jared’s avoidance.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset,” Jensen says. “We’re not together.”

The wind picks up. Warren turns away from the tee to wait out the breeze. “Of course you are.”

“I’m supposed to let you define my relationship?”

“If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…”

“Okay,” Jensen stops him. “You can shut up now.”

They continue playing, keeping an eye on the weather. Walking the fairway on the fifteenth hole, Warren finally circles back to Jared. “You may not know what you have with Jared, but you’ll find out tomorrow how he defines it.”

“How do you figure?” Jensen asks.

“Jared will either seek you out to explain, or he won’t.”

Jensen sighs. The sky reflects his mood, overcast and gloomy. “And if he doesn’t?”

Warren’s elevator eyes take him in from head to toe. “I think that’s highly unlikely, my dear.”



Jensen's trying to talk himself into taking an early lunch on Monday when Cindy taps her nails on his office door.

"You've got a visitor." Jensen's surprised to see Jared standing right behind her. "I'm a little jealous, actually."

"Thanks for leading me back here," Jared says politely, his big hand on Cindy's shoulder. He watches her leave before facing Jensen. "She was just telling me about how her dad served in the military."

"Huh, I didn't know that. Where'd he serve?"

"He was in Iraq."

Jared's not wearing his security uniform, jeans and a blue t-shirt in place of the boxy jacket and green tie. His hair is dark and slightly damp, finger-combed away from his forehead, and he's hovering in Jensen's doorway like he's waiting for permission. Recalling Warren’s words on the golf course, Jensen feels a swell of warmth in his gut.

And apparently it's up to Jensen to get things rolling. "So what's up? You weren't downstairs this morning.”

Jared shrugs. "Yeah, I have a few sick days racked up and decided to use one. After what happened this weekend, I needed some extra time." Jared looks around the office, twisting to see if anyone's watching them. "Is it okay that I’m up here?"

Jensen nods. "I'm glad you're here. I was worried after Saturday."

Something dims the light in Jared's eyes. He sits down across from Jensen and folds his hands over his lap. "It was really late by the time I got home on Saturday, and I felt like shit yesterday." He scowls. "Not exactly the weekend I had planned."

"I get it." Jensen hadn't put it at the top of his list either. "Did you figure out why Ben was acting so crazy?"

"Car accident," says Jared, bluntly. "He's okay, though. It was a near miss," he adds before Jensen can ask. "It just fucked with his head and made him tense. No big deal."

"Tense." Jensen recalls Ben exhibiting much more than tension.

"Something made him snap at the game. I don't know, but DJ told me he'd had a pretty bad week on top of that, and Saturday he just got really messed up."

Jensen could sit here and listen to Jared list off one hundred excuses for Ben's attitude, but none of them would quash his anxiety. Ben's violent outburst had raised a number of issues, none of which Jared has touched on, but damn if Jensen’s going to be the one bringing them up. Considering how Ben had treated Jared, the horrible things he’d said, Jensen assumed Jared would be angrier. Instead, he’s almost dismissive.

The intrusive ring of his office phone saves him from having to fill the void in their uncharacteristically awkward conversation.

"Jensen Ackles." Jared averts his eyes as if that will give Jensen privacy. "Sure, Eric. Can you give me ten minutes? Alright, thanks." Jensen hangs up and sighs. "Meeting with the boss."

"Oh, right. I'll get outta your way. I meant to…well, there were a few things I wanted to tell you."

"Are you free tonight?" Jensen asks, surprised how quickly the offer comes out. For once, his heart is outpacing his brain. "Come over, we'll order something for dinner, and then you can tell me. Alright?"

This time, Jared's smile is genuine. "Dude, we're on. Text your address and I'll pick up food on the way."

"I'm just supposed to let you order my dinner?"

Jared laughs. "You'll take what I give you, Ackles."



Jared shows up at 7:30 with two bags of takeout and a six-pack of root beer already chilled. Catching a whiff of something warm and sizzling, Jensen's stomach does a happy flip.

"You brought burgers?"

"And fries," proclaims Jared. "No one's above a little cheese and grease, man."

"Where'd you get this stuff?"

"Ginn's. That place is amazing. Ever been?"

Jensen shakes his head. "But I've always wanted to try it."

As if he's won some small victory, Jared becomes more animated, helping Jensen pull together plates, napkins, and utensils, and laying them out on the unused half of Jensen's dining room table. Jensen listens with one ear as Jared rambles about the best burgers he's ever had, sounding like the overly excitable host of a road-trip food show.

The rest of Jensen's mind is circling around the toxic words that kicked off this drama. The implication that Jared slept around-and that's putting it mildly-remains at the forefront. Technically it's none of Jensen's business. Hell, it's not even a bad thing if that's the way Jared chose to live his life. But if Jared is fucking his way through the gay population of Dallas, why hasn't he made a serious move on Jensen?

And then there's the other thing Ben had thrown out in the middle of his tirade. Maybe no one else had noticed, but it's been prickling at Jensen's subconscious, almost worse than the idea of Jared hooking up with a string of disposable guys.

Not part of the group.

It stung like peroxide on a wound that's been left to fester for years, even more painful because it's true. Jensen had worn a uniform, but it wasn’t the right one; he’d never committed to that life. Attending the Citadel was an honor, and a hell of a lot of work, but it was like playing dress-up compared to what Jared and his friends have gone through.

Ben was right. Jensen can't argue because he doesn't belong. Lying in bed with nothing to do but think, Jensen worried that Jared's finally realized it, too, Ben's words helping him to a conclusion he should have made a month ago.

"Did that meeting with your boss go okay?" Jared asks, the corner of his mouth slick with juices from his burger.

"It was just to catch him up to speed on a couple high-priority projects. He was out of the office last week." Jensen savors a long pull from his bottle. He hasn't had decent root beer in years. "Are you gonna be back at work tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Jared leans back and pats his stomach. "Can't get too used to spending an entire day on my couch. It's bad for my leg. Why, do you miss me yet?"

Jensen maintains a straight face. "I had to take my coffee break in my office."

"How'd that treat you?"

"I was productive. So, you know, it sucked."

Some of the pressure that's built up on Jensen's shoulders lightens when Jared laughs and takes a huge, messy bite of his barbecue burger, sauce smearing over the grease on his lips. Their banter isn't effortless the way it was before. That's what pissed Jensen off the most. Ben's outburst drove a wedge between Jared and Jensen, not just physically, but in their manner with one another.

It's almost nine when Jensen dumps their plates in the kitchen sink. He grabs the last two root beers from the fridge and waits for Jared to tie off the trash bag stuffed full of takeout containers before leading him into the living room.

Jensen wants to be comfortable if they’re going to have a serious talk. He almost smiles when Jared eases down next to him on the couch, knees bumping, except Jared's expression is cloudy and unreadable.

Jared sighs. "Guess I've gotta do this, huh?"

"It's up to you. I'm feeling pretty forgiving after that burger."

The downward twist of Jared's mouth lessens. "I told you they were good. So, listen. About Ben..."

Jensen's getting impulses to stop him right there and say fuck it to talking. He'd kiss away the last remnants of Jared's frown and ride this relationship as far as it'll take him, figuring shit out along the way. But Jared steamrolls on and Jensen tells himself to be patient.

"We slept together a few months ago, before the basketball thing really got started. When I was first shipped back to Texas, Ben and I shared a hospital room for a little while. After that, we stuck around for physical therapy and whatever. We went out for drinks one night and, yeah. I don't know why he flipped out and went after you like he did," Jared adds more sharply, "but all that shit was directed at me. I'm sorry you had to hear it."

Jensen's not sure which thread to start tugging on to unravel Jared's confession.

"Did you and Ben date?"

"No," Jared is quick to say. "Nothing like that. It was just a couple of times and then we lost interest."

"We?"

"It was mutual, trust me. There's nothing...I mean, he's not secretly still into me and I'm definitely, definitely not trying to start anything with him again. Besides, you've seen how he and DJ are together."

"So, Saturday…that wasn't jealousy?"

Jared sets his jaw, lips hardly moving at first. "No, but even if it was, I don't care. It doesn't matter, Jensen." His voice gains momentum. "Ben and I happened months ago and I'd put it behind me. Ben did too, or that's what I thought. It had to be the car accident setting him off, and since you and I were there, he lashed out at us."

Clearing his throat of the emotions Jared is stirring up, Jensen ponders, pulling up information from news magazines and shows like 60 Minutes. "Maybe it was a traumatic stress reaction. Ben was in combat, right?"

Jared nods, more tense than before, but he allows Jensen to continue.

"If something happened to him, the accident could have pulled up some pretty bad memories."

"Right."

"I mean, PTSD makes sense."

Jared shrugs, looking away. Jensen logs his reaction for later. "I talked to DJ this afternoon and he said Ben's doing okay."

"Is he seeing a therapist?"

Jared hunches his shoulders again. "Saturday was just too much for him. I'm sure he's better now."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Jensen says, guiding the conversation out of dark waters. "When you almost fell, you really could have wrenched your back, or done damage to your muscles that would have kept you off your feet for a few days."

"I've been trying not to think about it," Jared says through clenched teeth. After a few seconds he relaxes, letting out a long sigh. "Look, can we give this stuff a rest for tonight?" He leans towards Jensen, lips advancing. "I haven't even gotten to kiss you and I really fucking want to."

Jensen is perfectly willing to oblige Jared, meeting him halfway. Jared holds his face gently, resting their foreheads together for a moment of silence before tipping his chin down and kissing Jensen's upper lip. He lingers, takes his sweet time, and Jensen lets him, blood running at a steady warmth instead of burning.

The couch is long and deep, a relic from Jensen's first post-college apartment. Stormcloud gray with massive cushions that give Jared and Jensen plenty of room to make themselves comfortable around each other. Their hands wander but the pressure never crosses into arousing. Though Jensen can feel his hips rolling forward against Jared's thigh, he's content to keep the heavy action between their lips.

Making out is amazing. Jensen had forgotten the sleepy luxury of necking on the sofa. No pretense, just lips and tongues and occasionally the soft nip of teeth to be playful. Jensen could slip into sleep right here and now, stomach full and mind at ease.

He eventually pulls back and says, "We probably can't keep this going all night, can we?"

"Man," Jared sighs and squeezes Jensen's hand. "I think I ate too much grease to get it up right now."

Jensen laughs over his yawn.

"How about Friday night?"

"Another date?" Jared asks.

"I was thinking more along the lines of you coming over here, ordering dinner, and in the morning we can go to basketball together."

"You’re asking me to spend the night?"

Jensen shifts nervously on the couch. "That's the idea."

Biting his lower lip, Jared's eyes fall to his hands. "You still want to have sex with me? After what Ben said..."

"I don't know who he was talking about," Jensen insists. "It didn't sound like anyone I know, and definitely not the guy who's been taking coffee breaks with me for a month, who asked me to kiss him when he was all loopy on his meds."

Jensen's never seen a shy side to Jared, but it's there now in the subtle tilt of his mouth and the way he looks at Jensen through his eyelashes. It disappears quickly when he sighs and says, "It was me. When I first got out of the hospital…"

The hesitation is enough for Jensen to cut in. "You don't have to tell me now. It's okay." Jensen won't ruin the end of the night by dredging up more drama. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Someone's gotta keep you from being so productive on your breaks."

They stop to kiss after Jared finds his boots, one on and one off as he presses Jensen against the wall, and again at the door with one of Jensen's hands wrapped around the doorknob.

After Jared's truck pulls away, Jensen locks up and heads straight to bed, eager to carry this feeling all the way into tomorrow.



Jensen walks into the break room on Thursday afternoon and finds Cindy by herself, flipping distractedly through a glossy magazine. She looks up when Jensen throws his leftover Firecracker chicken into the microwave.

"Oh, hey." Cindy perks up, sweeping feathered bangs behind her ear. "I saw you talking to Jared when I left for lunch yesterday. You guys seem pretty close these days. Are you, like, dating?"

Since Jensen began disappearing from the office during coffee breaks, Cindy and Melanie have toned down their Jared-related gossip. At least while Jensen's around. Now that Cindy's not fawning over Jared's romantic availability for herself, Jensen's more willing to talk to her.

"We're...yeah, I guess." He's surprised by how warm his face feels. Cindy doesn't really need his answer; the blush is enough. "Jared told me that your father was stationed in Iraq."

She shrugs. "I don't usually meet a lot of guys who are in the Army, but Jared mentioned that he'd been overseas so I told him about my dad."

"Is he still deployed?"

Cindy's brown eyes harden into iron, protective but not hostile. "My dad was killed on his second tour."

"Shit," Jensen curses under his breath. "I'm sorry."

She waves it off. "It was almost four years ago, and he died a hero. But my mom doesn't like to talk about him, so when I found out Jared was in the Army, I thought he might understand. You don't mind, right?"

Jensen needs a few seconds to realize what's she's asking. "That you talk to Jared? Of course not!" He laughs, amused, and sees Cindy begin to smile again. "I know y'all think he's quiet, but once you get him started, he can talk your ear off about anything."

"Chatty, huh?" Cindy smirks. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

They're both laughing now and Jensen almost misses the microwave ding behind him. He decides to eat with Cindy, seeing her in a new light as they continue to talk about everything but work, the conversation longer and more personal than anything they've shared in the past. When he's back in his office, Jensen grabs his cell and shoots Jared a quick text.

-Is Blake single?

Jared's response only takes a minute. -Dumping me already? He's not as good in bed as I am.

-I wouldn't know. If you'd stop playing hard to get... Jensen sends back, unable to resist.

-Burn. I have skills.

-I'd like to see those before I'm too old to appreciate a good BJ.

-Would come up there right now but ur desk isn't big enough for what I want to do to u.

Jensen laughs like an idiot in the middle of his office, mostly to cover the interested twitch of his dick.

-Srsly. Think Blake would mind being set up w/ someone?

-As long as it's not you. Are you coming? Down for coffee, I mean :)

Jensen can only imagine the grin Jared will be wearing when he walks into the lobby later. -I'll come in an hour.

-Damn right, Jared writes. -Best. Break. Ever.



Instead of picking up takeout, Jensen stops at the grocery store on the way home. He buys a package of chicken breasts and thighs to cook on the grill, along with plenty of vegetables, and tells Jared to swing by any time after seven. Jensen sips a beer out on the patio while he waits for the charcoal to heat up, wondering if it's just nerves that have him a little worked up.

It's not that he isn't looking forward to the sex (he really, really is), but he's not used to having so much invested in a relationship before he hits that step.

Jensen's fairly easy. He's hooked up with guys and never seen them again, never asked anything beyond first names and preferred positions. Dating and waiting for sex, whether it's intentional or circumstantial, is the anomaly. What he's feeling might be pressure, which is also new. All teasing aside, Jensen wants to be as good as his word, making tonight as amazing as possible while proving that his connection with Jared goes beyond friendship.

But all those jitters are forgotten when Jared walks into the backyard with a bottle of red wine and a duffel bag that he drops on the patio with a smile.

"Just in case," he says, but Jensen fully intends to make sure he needs it.

While the chicken and peppers are on the grill, Jared scoots his patio chair closer to Jensen's and kisses him. The air is sweet with the tang of mesquite, only the barest hint of smoke creeping into Jensen's nose. They make out like teenagers who don't have anything else to do, stopping only when Jensen gets up to check their food. It's warm enough to eat out on the patio, plates on their laps and fingers messy with chicken and sauce. Jensen listens and laughs as Jared tells him stories about boot camp, and every so often he glances up to catch a warm, dark look in Jared's eyes, something not put there by the smoke.

When dinner is finished and the patio cleared, Jensen finds himself on his big old couch, practically in Jared's lap. Not that he's complaining, of course. Jared's hands are huge, wrapping around Jensen's lower back and holding him in place as their tongues slip into new territory, gaining and losing ground in a battle no one's seriously trying to win.

“Clothes?” Jensen asks.

“Hell no.” Jared eagerly starts stripping from the waist up, dog tags dropping onto his bare chest with a jangle. The sight of curved-edged, silver metal stops Jensen’s breath, heat flowing into his cock like lava. Hello, new kink.

Jared takes note of the lust blowing out Jensen’s pupils. He smirks, tears Jensen’s t-shirt over his head and crushes their chests together. The tags are warm from perpetually sitting next to Jared’s heart, the badges he wears ever-present yet out of sight. Jensen slams his mouth down over Jared’s, savors the dig of metal into his skin. As he flips his tongue behind Jared’s teeth, fingers tucked under his chin, Jensen pictures the imprint Jared’s tags could leave on his chest: Jared’s name spelled out in tiny block letters. Marking him.

Jensen shivers.

Getting totally naked requires more of an effort. Jensen stands and shimmies out of his jeans, cock pressing for an immediate introduction. He drops his underwear and watches Jared’s face at the same time, satisfied with the way Jared’s lips open around a silent wow. Jensen loves knowing that his boyfriend finds everything about him impressive.

Speaking of impressive… Jensen helps Jared push his pants down his legs, mindful of the scarring. He takes a second to admire the way Jared’s charcoal-gray boxer briefs surround his dick, rolling over the swell like a wave. But exposed, his cock looks even better. The same way Jensen had, Jared studies his expression, but he has nothing to be ashamed of. His dick bears a healthy flush and a natural curve, a wide head that should fit Jensen’s lips perfectly. Jensen doesn’t let Jared’s scars impede his appreciation. On the contrary, they are a part of him, and Jensen is over the moon with the man laid out in front of him.

What follows is a passionate mutual exploration. Learning nuances of physical affection and charting sweet spots. Jensen plants a kiss in the crook of Jared’s elbow as he’s lying beneath Jensen on the couch, enjoys the way Jared’s stomach clenches with restrained amusement.

Jared exploits the sensitivity of Jensen’s nipples, raising them to peaks between his fingers before curling his tongue around the stiff points. He rolls Jensen onto his side, his body a wall between Jensen and the living room, and kisses the heat out of his mouth.

Jensen’s orgasm sneaks up on him. The spike of pleasure races up his spine and overtakes his senses. Through a haze of white light, he looks across at Jared’s face, now locked in the same rapturous high. He’s fucking beautiful, and Jensen can’t wait to see that same expression again and again.

Thank god they have all night.



Jensen hauls himself out of bed at six a.m. with a pressing need to pee. He glances back and smiles at his boyfriend's sprawl, limbs taking up every inch of space Jensen hadn’t occupied.

When Jensen's done, he washes his hands and splashes cool water on his face, barely aware of the fact that he's completely naked until a warm draft hits his back from the bathroom door opening. He straightens and finds Jared's eyes in the mirror. A fall green in the sun, Jared's eyes are dark and sultry in the dimmed light, no trace of sleepiness that Jensen sees in his own reflection.

That lethargy is quickly vanishing.

"Getting a good show over there?" Jensen's voice comes out rougher than he intends.

"Absolutely." Jared's response isn't much above a whisper, but that combined with the intensity in his expression makes Jensen's knees shake. He steps up against Jensen’s back, chest rumbling. "And I really like what I see." His lips skim from Jensen's shoulder up the side of his neck, hands and thumbs venturing into the grooves carved out below Jensen's hips. Jared stands slightly askew, keeping his left side hidden behind Jensen's body in their slotted reflection.

They're both morning-hard. Jensen's not certain his dick's gone totally soft in the last ten hours they’ve spent in close proximity, but he's swelling even more now with Jared's cock throbbing against the back of his thigh.

"We taking this back to bed?"

"Mmm," Jared hums noncommittally, sucking lightly over a muscle in Jensen's throat.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I think we oughta stay right here." Jared's drawl is more pronounced when he's turned on, long vowels rolling slowly off his tongue. "I haven't had a chance to fully appreciate your body yet," he says, counting up Jensen's ribs until he can pluck nipples between his fingers.

"Had plenty of chances last night."

Jared's lips are close to Jensen's ear, whispering, "This is different. I want to see you get off. Want you to show me what makes you come."

"You just want to watch?" Jensen's tongue stumbles over the words, his eyes never leaving Jared's where they meet in the mirror.

"It'll be a valuable learning experience," Jared says roughly. "And maybe I'll help you along. You never know."

In the entirety of Jensen's sexual experience, he's never performed for someone like this. He has stripped and teased, danced in next to nothing, but this goes beyond playful. It's intimate with Jared watching him so closely, noting every breath Jensen takes.

To encourage Jensen past his shock, Jared takes one of Jensen's hands and places it on his cock, engorged at the mere thought of getting off for Jared.

"This is a good place to start," Jared teases in a whisper.

Jensen grabs the counter with his free hand, slowly moving the other down to the base of his cock and gripping, the way he'd normally begin a little self-pleasure. Surprisingly, Jared keeps his hand over Jensen's-barely applying any pressure-as if his muscles can commit movements to memory.

And Jensen doesn't stop or ask Jared if it's good, or is this what you want? His body knows just what to do; Jared's along for the ride. Not that he's quiet about it.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Jensen," he says, kissing the back of Jensen's neck. "I don't care if you know it or if you've heard it a hundred times. I needed to say it. I've wanted to say it since the first day I talked to you."

Jensen can't help moaning and he feels Jared smile against his shoulder blade. He swells even harder under their joined hands, Jared's fingers rubbing against the head of his cock on every other upstroke.

"There's so much I've thought about doing with you." Jared's mouth is back by Jensen's ear, his lips dark. "So many things I want to try. I spend all day just thinking about what we could be doing."

"Tell me," Jensen says, his reflection wide-eyed and pleading. He's close, hips jerking forward into their combined grip.

"No, I'm gonna show you." Jared drops his other hand from Jensen's stomach, curving around the muscle of Jensen's ass. His fingertips curl inward, flirting deeper into his cleft. "I want you to keep me around for a long time, because there's so much I wanna do," Jared adds, voice unsteady for the first time since he walked into the bathroom.

"I know you're close.” Jared speaks the truth; Jensen's barely clinging to the edge. "I can't wait to do this again, only I'm gonna get you off next time-show you everything I've learned. C'mon, Jensen..."

He can't take anymore. A second after Jared starts tickling his sac, tugging gently while his other hand is groping Jensen's ass, Jensen comes. Hard. Harder than he has all night, hips pounding through his fist like he's fucking Jared's ass and pulsing inside its heat. Jared's arms constrict around him, heart thumping rapidly against Jensen's back. When Jensen’s finally able to focus, he sees Jared's dark gaze fixated on the head of Jensen's spent, still-throbbing cock, wet with come.

"Holy shit." It's the first thing Jensen manages to say afterward, held tight in Jared's arms.

Chin resting on Jensen's shoulder, Jared smiles, the consuming fire gone and replaced by smug accomplishment. Jensen spins around, hauling Jared into a slack-jawed, open mouth kiss, inscribing his appreciation on the roof of Jared's mouth with his tongue. Jensen couldn't care less about the sticky wetness on the back of his thighs from leaning into his own come on the bathroom counter.

"We might be a little late for basketball," Jensen growls.

"Huh?"

Jensen steers a dazed Jared into the bedroom, letting him get situated on the bed. Reclining against the pillows, Jared spreads his legs, cock sitting heavy to the right, curved up along his lower abs. Jensen salivates.

"Scratch that, we're definitely gonna be late."

"It's only, like, six thirty."

"I know." Jensen smirks, crawling up over Jared's legs. "But you're not even gonna remember your name after I blow you, so you'll need plenty of time to recover."

"Oh, I get-oh!" Jared moans as Jensen's lips fold around the head of his cock, coherency noticeably absent for the next forty-five minutes.

It's no surprise that they end up being very late for basketball.

PART THREE.