poems have possibilities [3/6]
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PART TWO
Jensen quietly left Jared’s apartment but didn’t go back to his own. Instead, he climbed into his car and drove. He didn’t know what he was doing, where his thoughts were.
That was a lie. They were where they had been for the last several weeks, on Jared. The Runner. Stuck on the bend of his smile, the curve of his back as he lay curled up in bed, Jared smiling, Jared laughing, his murmured words, his hand on Jensen’s cheek. The way he slumped over in the car, half-asleep.
Jensen drove and drove, ended up outside the cemetery with the engine idling. His hands clenched around the steering wheel, so tight the skin around his knuckles was blanched white. He hadn’t been here in seven months.
Jensen drove through the gates, slowly, carefully, his lips curled inwards, bitten red. Parked the car, took several deep breathes, stepped out onto the gravel of the parking lot. Jensen began walking, one foot in front of the other. Forward momentum.
He walked through row upon row of gravestones. His eyes caught on the words engraved there, in loving memory, dearly departed, rest in peace, beloved sister, brother, wife, son, daughter, mother, husband. Father. He stopped walking.
Before him was his father’s gravestone. The dark granite was polished to a fine finish, green grass grown now, no longer a dark clump of sodden earth. Fresh flowers, red and yellow roses, rested against the base of the gravestone, placed there by his mama. She loved roses and his dad had loved them the colour of sunrise, petals coloured to welcome the morning. He shuffled forward, placed a hand on the top edge of the gravestone. He rubbed his fingers along it, feeling the difference in texture. The smoothness of the polished front and the roughness of the top, natural and unchanged.
Jensen opened his mouth to speak and there was silence, broken only by the wind through the trees and grass rustling. He didn’t know what to say, if he should say anything at all. He looked around, saw one person, but they were in the far distance, a dark moving figure amongst the lighter shades of stone. He kept his hand on the cool granite, dropped to his knees, the ground dry, hard and compact. He dragged his fingers down, traced the curves of the carved words; Here lies Alan Ackles, beloved husband and father. May he Rest In Peace. Kept his fingers on the letters of his father’s name, the curve of the ‘a’, the straight line of the ‘n’. His hand stilled, rested there, palm hiding the letters and he covered his face with his other hand.
It washed over him, how much he missed his father. His laughter, old and cracked but true, his loving eyes, the hands that had steered Jensen, helped him along the way, steady and sure. It was that he missed the most, he realised. He missed the advice his father would give, his gentle hand, clapped over Jensen’s shoulder, giving him a push but letting him find his own feet. Without that push, Jensen was lost at sea without a compass, the skies clouded, no true north to be found.
Jensen’s breath rattled in his chest, ragged sounding, hitching with silent sobs. He sat like that for a long while. The sun started to set. The sun changed colours above him, from a burning white-yellow, to an orange-red, turning the sky pink. Those colours splashed across the gravestone.
“You wanted me to write as me, be proud of who I am, not care about what others thought.” The words fell from his lips unbidden, heavy as stones in the silence.
“You died.” His voice was a rasping thing. His hand fell down by his knees, uncovering eyes now red-rimmed. Jensen swallowed, said it again, had to hear it. “You died, and I couldn’t do it. I was too scared and I hid.”
His right hand slid down the granite. Jensen glimpsed his father’s name and brushed his thumb over it. He licked his lips. “Did I let you down?” Both hands on the ground now, fingers curled in the grass, pulling at the strands, ripping them out of the earth. Jensen waited but he heard no reply. He knew there would never be one, only the echoes of what Jensen wanted to hear. He looked up at the darkening sky and smiled. Turned his eyes back to his father’s gravestone, felt the smile on his face to be real.
“I never said thank you, for the bookstore. I love working there, with Jakob. You were right to hire him, he’s really dedicated.” Jensen paused, smile widening. “So thanks, Dad. For everything.”
Jensen traced the lettering one more time and then stood up, looking down at where his father’s body rested, and turned away, walked back to the car, got in and left, the smile still on his face. His father’s smile in his mind and the feel of a hand on his shoulder, the gentlest of pushes forward.
~*~
When he arrived home, he paused for a moment outside Jared’s door, listening. He waited for some sort of sound, an indication that Jared was up and moving about, but all was silent. Jensen pressed a hand against the door, palm flat, and pushed himself off towards his own door, keys already in his hand. Ten minutes later he was sitting at the breakfast counter in the kitchen, a bowl of reheated spaghetti bolognese before him. He ate quickly, for no other reason than he was hungry, finished, put the bowl in the sink, pulled out his cell phone and called his mama.
She answered the phone with a cheery, “Jensen, my love.”
“Hey, Mama.” Jensen walked into the living room, sat back on the couch, relaxed into it. “How’re you?” He heard a soft exhale, remembered he wasn’t the only one who lost someone important, listened as she spoke carefully.
“Better, I think. I’ve joined a knitting club.”
Jensen laughed. “What, knitting in the summer? That doesn’t sound right.”
“Oh hush, now. It’s not just hats and scarves and gloves, but blankets and cushion covers. You just wait, Jensen, I’ll have you dressed head to toe in your mother’s handiwork.”
“Oh God, Mama, please, no!” he begged, his smile heard plainly in his voice and his Mama laughed.
“I wouldn’t put you through that, sweetheart, I love you too much to make you wear my horrible knitting.” She laughed once, short and sweet. “Your father would have worn whatever I made with a smile, just because I made it.” She sighed. “I miss him so much.”
Jensen coughed, a hot itch at the back of his eyes. “I know, I miss him too. I,” he hesitated, sucked in a breath. “I went to his grave today. Went for a drive to clear my head and I ended up there.”
He heard his Mama sniff quietly at the other end of the phone. “You were where you needed to be, pet. You feel better?” she asked
“Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, I actually do.”
“I always end up speaking to the gravestone, as if I’m talking to him. Part of me feels like a crazy person but the other part. Well, I think he’s somewhere listening and that helps.” Her voice cracks a little and Jensen wants to see her so bad, run over and scoop her up in a hug, the best a mother can get from her son.
“I talked to him too and you’re right. It helped.”
“Oh, Jensen.”
“I know, Ma. I know.”
~*~
Jensen woke up the next morning feeling lighter, like the stone rolling around in his gut had been chipped in half, the edges smoothed. He felt rested. He showered, humming a little, the sound echoing back at him in the bathroom. He dressed quickly after checking the time and dashed out of the house, barely even stopping by Jared’s door. Just a quick a glance, a quick listen. The silence was broken only by the gentle snuffling of what had to be two sleeping dogs.
Jensen was relieved to arrive at the bookstore before Jakob. This week was his turn to open up, get everything ready for nine o’clock. Half seven and the coffee shop was open. Jensen darted in, ordered two black coffees and drank his in the back room of the bookstore, skimming through the newest inventory, Tales From The Woods by Felix Dennis. Jensen frowned at the words on the page, head nodding lightly in a rhythm tapped out by his foot. Not really to his taste, nature poetry, but Dennis had a fluency with rhyme that Jensen ached to have. So involved was he, that Jensen missed Jakob walking in behind him, ended up with the fright of his life as a hand clapped down on his shoulder, causing him to yelp loudly and squirm on the lone chair in the room.
“Motherfucker, I hate you.” Jensen scowled.
Jakob only smiled serenely. “Dude, please. You love me.”
Jensen rolled his eyes and stalked out of the back room, fiddling with the cash register nervously while Jakob followed behind him. He could feel Jakob watching him and he hunched his shoulders protectively. Jensen moved over to the door to flip the sign around, the word ‘open’ looking out onto the street. He turned and sure enough, Jakob was looking at Jensen with his arms folded and his hair cowlicked, tufted around his ears.
“Something is up.” Jakob said, certainty in his voice. “You’re acting nervous and fidgety, and you do that when there is something you don’t want to tell me.” Jakob raised an eyebrow. “You will be telling me, so don’t even try to deny it. I want answers, Jensen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jensen’s fingers fumbled along the edges of the wooden countertop.
“Uh-huh. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Jakob walked over to stand in front of Jensen, hands planted squarely on the counter, leaning forward, no give in his eyes but his smile said ‘please’.
“Look,” Jakob began and Jensen really did not like the sound of that. “I get it, you don’t like talking about stuff. But I’ve let you be for the last while, pretty much ever since your dad passed away.” Jensen flinched, couldn’t help it, ingrained reaction by now, shoulders slumping forward.
“Jense,” Jakob said softly. “I want to make sure you’re okay and I can’t really do that unless you talk to me.”
Jensen looked up, saw the frustration there in Jakob’s face, a little bit of hurt around the eyes, but mostly concerned understanding.
“Yeah,” Jensen sighed out, knowing he was right.
“Okay, go.”
“What?” Jensen squeaked out. “Right now?”
“Yup. I’m cornering you.” Jakob planted his face in his hands, looking up at Jensen with a plaintive expression, pleading in his eyes. There was something of Jared in that look, puppy dog eyes that made Jensen break, words there on his tongue and all he had to do was let them out.
“So there’s this guy, Jared -“
“Knew it!” Jakob interrupted, a look of almost child-like glee dancing across his face.
“Oh, shut up, please.” Jensen huffed. “You’re such an annoying little brat sometimes.”
“I know.” Jakob sounded pleased and completely unabashed.
“Urgh, I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“You love me.”
“What happened to shutting up?”
Jakob mimed zipping his lips, going so far as to mime adding a lock and then throwing the key away over his shoulder. Jensen couldn’t help it, chuckled a little, then cleared his throat.
“Right, Jared. He lives across the hall from me, goes for runs every morning and I maybe spy on him and ... stuff.” Jensen went bright red, scuffed his feet along the floor as Jakob exclaimed, “Oh you great big Peeping Tom.”
“Yeah, alright, yay me. And I’m writing again. Slowly, but it isn’t as hard anymore. I guess you could say he’s my, oh God, this is so embarrassing.” With his hand clutched over his face, he mumbled out the words rapid fire quick, like ripping off a bandaid. “He’s my muse. Don’t you dare say a word, Jakob!” Jensen snapped pre-emptively, watching as Jakob closed his mouth with a smirk. He gave an amiable ‘as you were’ gesture. Jensen didn’t trust it and eyed Jakob warily. Jakob blinked at him and Jensen rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, so yesterday, he pretty much sliced his hand open or something and came to my door. He asked for a lift to the hospital and I gave him one, collected him a few hours later and then put him to bed. He was wacked out on painkillers.” Jensen walked out from behind the counter, over to the shelves of books and began rearranging things that didn’t actually need re-arranging.
“And,” Jakob prompted.
“And, what?” Jensen didn’t turn to face Jakob, fingers gliding over the smooth cover of the books in his hands.
“There is more to this, I know it.”
There it was. Jensen’s shoulders slumped and he was silent for a long moment, delaying the inevitable. He traced the lettering beneath his fingers, in much the same manner as he had done with the lettering carved into the dark granite of his father’s gravestone.
“I went to visit my father’s grave yesterday.” Jakob went quiet and still. Jensen looked over Jakob’s shoulder, didn’t want to see the sympathy in his friends eyes. “I just. There’s something there with him, with Jared. I write under D.S. Winchester and my dad thought I could do better, be better, be somebody while still being myself. But I thought it wasn’t worth it, changing all those people’s opinions about my writing, about the mistaken belief that it’s written by a woman, coming out to so many people. I was so afraid the potential backlash.” Jensen turned to face Jakob, taking in his solemn face. Jensen mouth opened but the words couldn’t come out, wouldn’t come out, trapped somewhere in his gut.
Jakob nodded. “You’re thinking he might be worth it and freaking out about it?”
Jensen nodded, chewed at his lip obsessively, wiping his sweaty palms against the denim covering his thighs.
“Because you’re worried it might be too soon?”
“Jakob, of course I’m worried, because it is! I barely know the guy, except for what I’ve dreamed up in my head. I’ve only met him once. It is too soon!”
“Jensen, do you like him? Do you want to be with him? Or try to, at the very least?” Simple questions demand simple answers but they aren’t, they can’t be simple. Jensen didn’t have an answer. He was placing too much emphasis on a potential relationship. He didn’t even know if Jared was gay. One stoned pass does not qualify, no matter how much Jensen wishes it did.
“Jensen.”
“I don’t have an answer, Jakob! Yes, I want to try to be with him, I’m drawn to him in a way that I can’t explain.” Jensen sighed heavily. “I’m stressing out over a possibility. I just need to you tell me to get over myself and stop putting too much importance on stuff that isn’t there yet.”
“Alright.” Jakob clapped his hands together. “Well then, try. You should try. And if that’s what you want then who gives a flying fuck if it’s too sudden or too much. ”
Jensen could feel himself spread too thin, too may doors open, and anything could get through, all his secret passageways there for anyone to see. “Glad we could have this talk.”
“You know it, boss.” Jakob saluted but the smile across his lips was gentle.
“I’m going to bring in some of the new stock, put it away on the shelves.” Jensen edged his way into the back room and Jakob let him escape without saying another word.
~*~
Jensen left work early by Jakob’s orders. He’d protested, that he was the boss and that it wasn’t fair for just one person to take on the workload that needed two. Jakob had rolled his eyes, had said, “I am doing you a favour, you idiot, so you can call Jared and cook him dinner. Or something equally gay and romantic.”
Jensen had laughed, smacked a wet one on Jakob’s right cheek and had yelled as he dashed out the door, “Hope that was gay and romantic enough for ya!”
Now, standing outside Jared’s door, Jensen wondered what the fuck he thought he was doing. His nerves twisted up inside him so tight, he was surprised he could even walk. His legs felt like weak rubber. His breakfast counter had two plates set, a salad ready, as well as a bowl of mashed potato heaped with melting butter. There were two steaks in the fridge, ready and waiting to be slapped on the pan. Now all he needed was Jared.
“Fucking Christ, Ackles, get it together,” he mumbled under his breath. Jensen inhaled, held it and knocked once on the door before him, loud and sharp. He heard the clack of Sadie and Harley’s feet along the floorboards, small yips, and a soft shuffle before the door opened. Jared stood, hair sleep-tousled, and clothes rumpled. He looked very surprised to see Jensen standing before him, but smiled big and bright.
“Hey, Jensen. What’s up?”
Jensen smiled back, couldn’t help it, his cheeks twitched and pulled.
“Well, dinner, if you want it.”
Jared looked confused and Jensen helplessly admitted to himself, that yes, Jared was adorable, no use denying it.
“Okay, look, have you fed the dogs?”
Jared blinked, obviously still confused.“Erm, yeah, did it just now.”
“Awesome.” Jensen had to stop himself from clapping his hands together; spending all that time with Jakob was beginning to take its toll. He held a hand out to Jared. “Follow me. And close the door behind you.”
Jared’s hand was warm and dry, bigger than Jensen’s, his hand enveloped. Jensen memorised the feel of it, the weight of it, what words fit best in Jared’s grip. He walked through his own door, pulling Jared along behind him. Jared stumbled inside and Jensen reluctantly let go of his hand, reaching behind Jared to close the door. He made his way into the kitchen.
“Okay, so here’s the thing. You’ve got nine stitches in your hand and you probably can’t really cook anything, right?”
“Right.” Comprehension flickered across Jared’s face at the sight of the breakfast counter, his smile beginning to make a comeback. “You’re making me dinner?” Looked over at where Jensen stood, reaching into the refrigerator and gasped. “You’re making me steak?”
He bounded over and smothered Jensen in a hug, long arms wrapping around and round him. Jared tucked Jensen into his body, all warm heat and a musky, almost spicy smell. Jensen wrapped his free arm around Jared’s back, hand gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and breathed in. Jared leapt back, leaving Jensen suddenly cold, even though one hand lingered on his arm.
“I’m sorry, I stink. Should I go get changed?”
Jensen stared at Jared, non-pulsed. “What are you talking about? You smell really good.” He realised what he said and went a deep tomato red. He could feel it creep up his neck onto his cheekbones, all the way up to the tip of his ears. “Crap, sorry. I didn’t mean to come onto you.”
“You didn’t?” Jared’s mouth turned down at the corners. He dropped his hand. Jensen missed it almost immediately.
“If I did,” Jensen said carefully. “If I did, would that be a problem?”
Jared gave him a sly look, looking over at Jensen out of the corner of his eyes, a smirk gracing his pink lips. “Not a problem at all,” he murmured, inching closer, bringing a hand up to sweep along the flush on Jensen’s face, looked at Jensen, his hazel eyes heavy. He moved away smiling, delighted with himself, eyes dancing as Jensen flushed even deeper.
“How do you like your steak?” Jensen managed to ask, heart beating triple-time in his chest.
Jared sat down, carefully placed his bandaged left hand on the counter and replied with a grin, teeth bared and flashing, “Rare and bloody.” He closed his mouth with a loud snap.
“Just a regular, old carnivore.”
“You know it,” Jared replied.
“Well, as long as you don’t eat me.” Jensen turned to drizzle some olive oil on the heated pan, dropping the steak in.
Jared started coughing. Jensen peered over his shoulder to see Jared blushing.
“You okay?”
Jared nodded. “I was just really tempted to turn that into something filthy.”
“Oh god, I am so glad you didn’t. That would have been awkward for the both of us.”
Jared stuck his tongue out at Jensen. “I’ll have you know that my innuendos are the stuff of legend.” He sniffed, folding his arms. Jensen turned around fully, mirroring Jared.
“You do realise you’re going to have to say it now, don’t you? Just to let you know, I’ll be holding you to a very high standard. Best bring you’re A game.”
“Err, I was going to say ‘only if you ask real nice’, but I thought better of it.” Jared shrugged, abashed. Jensen burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen gasped between laughs, “but that would have been awful.”
Jared opened his mouth in rebuttal but ended up joining in, his laughter louder than Jensen’s echoing around the kitchen, making its way into all the nooks and crannies, filling every empty space. Jensen kept smiling, flipped the steak, a few minutes later serving it to Jared. “You can start eating, it’s fine, mine will only take five minutes, probably less.”
Jared murmured his thanks and heaped his plate high with potato and salad. There was a silence between them, not awkward, but natural, an easiness to it. Jensen hummed lightly under his breath, a nonsensical tune he just made up on the spot, no rhyme or rhythm to it. His steak finally done, he turned to sit down facing Jared, only to catch him staring mutinously at his steak, a startling anger in his eyes.
“What’s up?” Jensen asked and Jared slumped a little.
“I hate this, hate it so much. I can’t even cut my own steak.”
Jensen wanted to knock his head against the counter at his own stupidity. “Ah fuck, I’m sorry. Here, I’ll cut it up for you, if you want.”
Jared glared at his steak, a different kind of heat now, so angry. “It’s not really your fault, I just feel like such a child. Couldn’t even cut tomatoes by myself.” He looked up with a self-recriminating amirk. His face softened then, slowly, under Jensen’s gaze. “If you wouldn’t mind, thanks, Jen.”
His name shortened like that wasn’t unusual, but the way Jared said it, with a subtle reverence, made Jensen’s heart stop, skip a beat and restart.
“It’s not a problem.” Jensen went over, cut up the steak quickly, not want to prolong Jared’s embarrassment. He went back to his seat and they ate quietly for a while, the silence eventually broken by Jared.
“This is really good. The steak is particularly awesome.” Jared sighed happily, petting his stomach. “I really love steak.”
“What good Texas boy doesn’t? And thanks. It does taste quite delicious, if I do say so myself.” Jensen grinned over at Jared, got a grin in return. With that they began talking, laughing, joking across the table, Jared’s black hole of a stomach eating Jensen out of house and home. Soon, after everything was finished and put away, Jensen grabbed two beers, popped the lids into the sink and gave one to Jared, motioning him to sit down on the couch. They both sat down, Jensen turned so he was facing Jared, one leg crossed over the other, in contrast to the way Jared was splayed across the seat, limbs everywhere.
Jensen took a swig of beer and swallowed, watching Jared watching him as he licked his lips, feeling something thrum in the air.
“When did you move into the apartment across the way?”
Jared looked up from Jensen’s mouth to his eyes, a teasing glint in his own. “What, you don’t know? I thought you would have, for all your staring out the window.”
Jensen blushed, again, goddammit, but replied with a loose, “Speak for yourself, you stalker.”
Jared looked over at Jensen, completely unapologetic, smiled slightly and shrugged. “I moved in the middle of May, sort of an impulsive thing, I guess.”
Looking over at Jared, something tugged at Jensen, at the way Jared wouldn’t really meet his eyes, that told him not to pry, not to push but he couldn’t help it. A curiosity filled him
“What do you mean, impulsive?” he asked.
Jared sighed, picked at the label on his beer bottle. “I finished college beginning of May, Masters in engineering, full honours. Mom and Dad were so proud.” He scoffed. “Until they found me making out with another graduate, a guy from my class, just a fling, nothing serious, you know? I was being young and foolish. They weren’t quite so proud of that.” Jared took a long pull of beer, a sour twist to his mouth. “It was a stupid decision, I admit it, and I packed up and left. I got as far as my savings could get me, ended up here. S’not a bad place.” He threw a wobbling smile at Jensen. “I’m working at a local shelter, over on Columbia Drive, although it might as well be volunteering, given what I’m being paid. Plus, I’ve managed to snag an interview over at Samsung Telecommunications in a few weeks. I’m busy, getting somewhere, have a pretty face to look at.” The cheeriness of the words was waxy, well-rehearsed and too stiff.
“Jared,” Jensen said softly.
Jared shook his head, a denial and a refusal. “Don’t. I’m doing alright, Jen, I swear, don’t you worry about little old me. Plenty of people have shitty parents and worse. I’m not that special.”
Jared wouldn’t look at him and Jensen had done that, had pushed Jared. There was a precipice coming up in front of him and he could either turn around, go back the way he came, or keep on going, take a running leap and jump. Jensen took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
“My Dad was killed seven months ago. He was run over by a truck, of all things.” Jensen looked over at Jared, saw the heartbreak reflected in his eyes and ached to make it better.
“I am doing alright, just barely.” Jensen shook his head, took a swallow of beer. “But a few months ago, a few weeks ago? Yeah, not so much.” He stared unseeing past Jared, eyes unfocused, looking at the shelves of books on the opposite wall. “I know it’s not really the same thing but it is okay not be okay, you know? You don’t have to pretend, especially around people who care about you. And when people care, they worry about you. You can’t stop that either. So I’m going to worry about you, if that’s alright.” He looked back over at Jared, saw a wet sheen in his eyes and didn’t know what to do with that, numbed for so long and now so unsure. But he reached out a hand anyway, curled it over the hand Jared had resting on his thigh. Jared rattled out an unsteady exhale and turned his hand over, threaded his fingers through Jensen’s and held on tight.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Jen.”
“I know you are. I’m sorry, too.” Jensen squeezed the hand holding his, took another swallow of beer and waited for a joke or a laugh from Jared, knew him enough now that this was how he operated, push through everything too quickly and cover it with humour. That was perfectly fine with Jensen. He loved Jared’s laughter, couldn’t get enough of it.
“Okay, enough of that. Glad we’ve covered the sharing and caring portion of this evening’s entertainment, time to move on. More beer?” With a gentle squeeze, Jared released Jensen’s hand and Jensen let him go. He needed a moment to himself too, just make sure everything was in its proper place. And he wouldn’t deny himself a second beer.
When Jared came back with two fresh beers, he immediately handed one to Jensen but didn’t go to sit down, instead making his way other the book shelves along the other wall. It was a large bookcase that Jensen had custom built to fit this room with a section cut out for his 48” plasma screen TV. He watched Jared run the pinkie finger of his left-hand down the spine of a book, his beer clutched in his right, a soft smile on his face. It was the little things in life, Jensen mused.
“Yes, before you ask, I am a book lover.” Jensen let out a light laugh at the guilty look on Jared’s face, like he had been caught stuffing his face with cookies from the ‘hidden’ cookie jar. Which, Jensen had no doubt, had occurred at some point during Jared’s childhood. “I own a bookstore,” he said. “It’s about ten minutes down the road from here.”
“You like working there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jensen picked at the label of his beer.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but aren’t you a little young to have your own independent bookstore?” Jared asked, pulling a book out and leafing through it, before putting it back.
“Nah, it’s fine.” He gave Jared a nostalgic smile. “It was my Dad’s. He left it to me. It’s one of the reasons why I like it there.”
Jared gave him a smile back, gentle, sweet, caring and Jensen felt buoyed up by it.
“It must be incredible, owning your own store, being your own boss,” Jared murmured, taking a swig of beer. Jensen wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer but nodded when Jared turned to look at him for confirmation. Jared looked like he was skimming through the titles, walking along, eyes tracing each row for familiar names, familiar titles. He stopped suddenly and Jensen squirmed against the soft leather of the couch, drank heavily from his bottle of beer, knew where he was looking. Jensen had organised his books by genre and then in alphabetical order but sometimes by group if he so chose. Anal, yes, no doubt about it, but effective too, especially when in need of keeping busy.
“You have a whole section devoted to lesbian poetry?” Jared exclaimed, incredulous, sending startled, disbelieving eyes Jensen’s way. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Jensen laughed, a little weakly. “Nope, not kidding you.
Jared peered closer. “Adrianne Rich, Elizabeth Bishop, Becky Birtha, what the hell, Jensen? This is not what I expected to be sitting on your shelves.”
“Why?”
“Well, because they hate men, don’t they? ”
“And?” Jensen was getting a little bit agitated, his grip around the bottle tightening.
Jared rolled his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a man.”
“Just because they have something negative to say about men, doesn’t mean they hate every single man. And even if they did, aren’t they justified?” Jensen could only take so much, downing the rest of his beer before he spoke. “Okay, look, poetry is my passion. I love it, I am inspired by it, by all of it. I am devoted to it completely - the intricate combination of words and rhythm can be incredible. To pigeon-hole anyone because of how they express themselves or because of their feminist ideologies is close-minded. Rich has an amazing depth, a richness of tone; Bishop has an awareness of injust societal standards and her attention to detail is breath-taking.” Jensen stood up, gestured at his collection, at the great expanse of words collected in his living room, beautiful words that he loved, and despaired of, when his own were inadequate. “Here lies what I love and to belittle it is to belittle me.”
Jared stared back at him, clearly shocked, yes, but amused too, and Jensen felt his own lips quirk upwards, a small grin, mischievous and wily.
“So, how long have you been practising that speech?”
Jensen arched an eyebrow. “You will never know.” He was definitely amused now. How could he not be, at the mirth so clear across Jared’s own face, where it belonged? It made Jared come alive, whole and perfect.
His own words echoed in his head as he reached for his empty beer bottles by the couch and he itched for a pen, itched to sit down at his desk and write new words now, for this man, no longer the Runner but Jared, just Jared, only Jared, but wholly himself.
-- so alive and laughing still, smile so wide
It is too big for his face and fills up the now too-full world --
Jared’s hands continued to wander along the spines of Jensen’s books, getting closer and closer. Jensen’s heart was in his throat.
“Another beer?” he asked, as a distraction, and Jared shook his head. Jensen went painfully still as Jared grabbed a book of the shelf with a triumphant noise. Jensen panicked.
“I’m going to get some water.” He made a quick getaway into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water. “You’ll be fine,” he told himself. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before going back into the other room. Jared was sitting back on the couch, Jensen’s book open on his lap.
“Got you a glass of water.”
“Thanks,” Jared said, not looking up. Jensen put the glasses on the coffee table, the shaking of his hands barely perceptible.
Jensen sat down beside Jared. “What are you reading?” He managed to keep his voice level and only mildly interested.
Jared looked up. “I took a few modules in English Lit, my Mom is an English teacher.” He shrugged, gave a half-smile. “I’ve always really loved reading, fiction, biographies, poetry. Don’t look so shocked!” Jensen didn’t know what he looked like, he was trying not to throw up! He reached for his glass and took a nervous sip, hoping it would settle his stomach. His feet were twitching on the floor. Jensen couldn’t decide how we wanted to sit. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, crossed his ankles.
“You like Winchester’s stuff?” Jensen hoped that Jared didn’t hear the hoarseness of his voice. Jared didn’t look up from the page, just nodded, said, “Yeah, I really love his poetry, there’s an honesty to it, you know?” Jensen looked away from Jared, flushing at his unbeknownst praise. He wanted to scream and shout. His crossed his legs again, pressed his hands together. He was going to be doing cartwheels across the room or puking on the floor if he didn’t get it together.
“So you think Winchester is a guy? A gay guy? Not a woman, as most people seem to think?” Jensen was amazed, overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. His cheeks were still flushed. Jared got it and Jensen wanted to kiss him for it. “Why?”
Jared looked up, tapped his lips with the fingers of his right hand, a rolling motion that Jensen could not look away from. His eyes found Jensen’s and the intensity in them stunned him.
“I think he’s gay because I relate to some of these poems so well, so entirely. Whatever the gender of the person who wrote ‘This’, they were in college, they were young, no disagreements there. It’s obvious, so I relate to that, definitely.” Jared sighed, looked away from Jensen, tugged gently on a strand of hair behind his ear. “But it’s the way Winchester approaches his feelings, like they could be dangerous, could blow up in his face. The way he feels like if the world knew, there’s a chance he would be shunned and looked down upon. That is what I relate to the most. And it’s not something a straight girl would question. Question her taste in guys, sure, but not the fact that she is attracted to guys.” Jensen watched, beer in his hand momentarily forgotten, as Jared curled his hands in his lap, cradled the injured left one with his right. “The idea that some people would view it as a sin, or as disgusting, something shameful.”
Jared looked up at Jensen and Jensen felt nothing but wonder at this man in front of him, how he could read and interpret what Jensen had written nearly six years ago so well, so perfectly. He wanted to shed every skin, every barrier he hid behind, say, that’s me. You’ve found me. But Jensen couldn’t, far too aware of Jared’s fragility in this moment, the possibility that Jared would not believe him. And he couldn’t take that chance, not yet. It was still too soon. He couldn’t deny that part of him believed that it always would be.
“This book means a lot to me.”
Jensen was moved, a crest of emotion making his eyes itch. “I can tell.” He shifted towards Jared. Jared’s eyes flicked up to his, a small catch in his breath at Jensen’s movement. “You can borrow it if you want.”
“Thanks, but I do have my own.” Jared snorted. “It’s in really crappy condition, actually, torn pages worn thin and the cover is falling apart.” He leaned forward, hesitantly putting a light hand on Jensen’s knee. When Jensen didn’t move away, Jared pressed down, a heavy weight that soothed Jensen, a low hum thrumming through him. It gave him the confidence to put his own hand on top of Jared’s. “I read a poem from it just about every day, is that weird?” Jared murmured. Jensen shook his head. He brought a hand up to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen in front of Jared’s too-bright eyes, terrified that it would be knocked aside. It wasn’t.
“It’s not weird at all, not to me.” And Jensen cupped his hand around Jared’s chin. His head was floating and his heart was in his throat. His teeth chattered a little, from nerves and adrenaline. Jared’s hand moved up Jensen’s thigh, the other letting go off the book to rest on Jensen’s neck. Jensen shivered.
“Is this alright?” Jared asked, voice a whisper.
“Yes.” Jensen’s voice was just as soft. Jared’s thumb moved across his neck and Jensen’s his eyes fluttering closed.
“Can I kiss you?” Jared’s breath moved across his lips. Jensen barely nodded before Jared was pulling him in for kiss, closed lips barely brushing, a chaste thing, meant to reassure, not incite. It was overwhelming, so much after such a long time of nothing. When Jensen moved back, Jared let out a shaky breath.
“Thank God,” Jared whispered.
Jensen let out a small laugh, little more than a puff of air. He tentatively brought Jared’s lips back to his and Jared turned it into a longer kiss this time, slow catch and drag, sending heat spiralling through Jensen. Jared opened his mouth, let his tongue reach out, swipe across Jensen’s lower lip, and he shuddered, pressed harder against Jared, feeling the press of teeth behind his soft pink lips, that sweet give of flesh. Jared nipped at Jensen’s lower lip, dragged his tongue along it, sucked on it gently. Jensen jerked forwards, pushing Jared backwards. He caught the wrist of Jared’s injured hand and placing it high on the back of the couch.
“Don’t want you to hurt it,” he said lowly, right into Jared’s ear. He was surprised by the full body shudder his words incited, by Jared’s quiet moan. He paused, looking down at Jared and memorised the dazed look on Jared’s face, how wanted it made Jensen feel. He breathed, slid his hips against Jared’s, the friction a sweet burn.
Jared’s hips jerked and he let out the sweetest little sounds, almost hurt noises, but better, so much better. Jensen mouthed along Jared’s jaw, felt the beginnings of stubble, a tingle across his lips, found his mouth and kissed it. He licked inside, learning from Jared, and slowly slid his tongue against Jared’s, a smooth slip and glide. He pulled back, looked down at Jared, spread out beneath him, that flush high on his cheekbones and Jensen gave into it, licked along the edge of it, felt the heat beneath the skin, the taste sweet and intense. Jared groaned, a loud sound in the otherwise quiet room, no other noise but the rustle of the clothes as they moved against each other.
Jensen jerked back at the sound, startled. He was used to quiet sounds, furtive movements in the dark. The sun hadn’t set yet and the room was too bright. Jared slid his uninjured hand up Jensen’s thighs and around to cup his ass, squeezing. Jensen let out a nervous laugh. Jared frowned.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, perfect. Just.” Jensen cleared his throat. He reached back for Jared’s hand and moved it up to his waist.
“Ah.” Jared smiled softly up at Jensen. “So you’re a ‘not until after the third date’ kinda guy, then.”
Jensen shrugged, leaning down to give Jared a quick peck. “Something like that. You wanna watch a movie?”
Jared moved to hold Jensen’s hand. Jensen couldn’t hide his blush. “Or we can do whatever you want, but I don’t think. Ummm.”
“It’s okay. As long as I get to hold your hand and surprise you with kisses, I think I’ll be okay.” Jared leaned up and kissed both of Jensen’s cheeks, then his lips. They kissed gently for a few quiet moments. Jensen felt his heart flutter and turn over.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
He slid off Jared’s lap and onto the couch, reached for the remote, and tucked himself under Jared’s outstretched arm.
Jared pressed his lips against Jensen’s temple. “I think so too.”
They watched the movie in silence, broken only by soft murmurs and softer kissing. Jensen felt overly warm the whole time, heated by the press of Jared’s thigh against his, by the arm draped over his shoulders. He was cocooned by Jared and he found himself leaning more into Jared, relaxed. He felt safe. He was even disappointed when the movie ended. He heaved himself up as soon as the credits rolled, bringing the empty beer bottles and glasses into the kitchen.
“Do you need help clearing up?”
Jensen jumped at the sound of Jared’s voice coming from behind him. When he turned to look at him, his arms were folded as he leaned against the wall.
“Nah, don’t worry about it.”
“Guess I should be going then.”
Jensen checked his watch. It was nearly midnight. “Huh,” he said. “I guess so.” He walked Jared to the door and hated that things had become a little bit awkward. He swallowed, and pressed Jared up against the door, kissed him with a passion that startled him. For long moments, he lost himself chasing Jared’s tongue. They parted with a slick popping sound, both of them slightly out of breath. Jared pulled him back in and kissed him harder, and longer. Jensen lost time.
“C’mon, Jared.,” Jensen eventually said, pulling back. “We both have to get up early for work in the morning.” He poked Jared in the chest. “And someone has to go for a run.”
“Urgh, why must you be so right?” Jared whined, pouting. He flopped forward, shoving his face in the space between Jensen’s neck and shoulders. Jensen laughed.
“If I tell you that we can do this again tomorrow, same time, same place, will you leave me alone?”
Jared lifted his head. “Promise?” He blinked owlishly.
“Yes, now get out, you idiot.” Jensen opened the door and shoved Jared through it.
“The romance is dead already,” Jared sighed dramatically.
Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six.”
Jared darted forward and kissed him quickly, there and gone again, leaving Jensen frozen.
“See you at six.” He bounded across the hall and with one last wave, disappeared into his apartment. Jensen slumped against his doorframe, disbelieving. He brought his hand up to his mouth and smiled.
~*~
The next day passed in a blur. When he arrived into work, Jakob took one look at him and started crowing. Jensen couldn’t say anything back, didn’t want to jinx it. He wanted to keep it to himself for a little while. Jakob left him alone after that and Jensen went into the back office, too spaced out to be dealing with customers. His hands shook occasionally. His face was constantly flushed. He felt the phantom weight of Jared’s arm around his shoulder, the press of him against his thigh.
He worried about what he should make for dinner, given Jared’s injured hand. He stopped off to grab two frozen pizzas and shoved them into the oven as soon as he got it. He had just rushed into the bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt when there was a knock at the door. Pulling his tee over his head, Jensen broke into a grin.
Stumbling up the door, he buttoned up his jeans. He ran a hand through his hair and breathed, unlocking the pieces of himself he hid away. When he opened the door, Jared immediately moved up close to Jensen.
“Hi,” he said, sounding breathless.
“Hi.” Jensen cleared his throat. “C’mon in.” Jared shuffled inside and Jensen closed the door behind him. “Dinner is pizza tonight, hope that’s okay?”
“More than.” Jared plopped the beers he brought onto the coffee table. Jensen hadn’t even noticed. “Do I not get a ‘hello’ kiss?” He cocked his head to the side, smiling slightly uncertainly, his hands held behind his back. Jensen felt a rush of fondness. It gave him the confidence to get closer, to wrap his arms around Jared’s wide shoulders. He leaned up, kissed him. Jared’s arms came up to Jensen’s waist as they kissed, chaste, with no tongue. Jared was pressed up all around Jensen and he couldn’t get enough of it. He’d never had this before, this consuming warmth, the desire to get lost in it. He’d come close once and it had given him insecurity, a broken heart, and a number one bestseller.
The timer on the oven went off just as Jared’s hand began to move lower. Jensen jumped back, a little startled. He looked up at Jared. This close, Jensen could see the bags under his eyes. He brought a hand up to gently touch Jared’s cheek.
“I think we might just have dinner and then call it a night, you look exhausted.”
Jared shrugged. He was smiling. “Eh, I’ve had less sleep.”
“Uh-huh. What time did you get up this morning to go for a run?”
“What, you don’t know?”
“I was sleeping.” Jensen poked Jared. “Unlike someone I could mention.”
“The pizza is going to burn, Jensen.”
“Shit!” Jensen ran into the kitchen, pulling open the oven and turning it off. The pizza wasn’t burnt, per say, but the cheese on top was brown. It could have been cooked less. Jensen sighed. He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and slid the pizzas on. He sliced them up and brought them into the other room, where Jared was already on the couch with an open beer bottle in hand.
“The pizzas are a little bit well done,” Jensen said. He eyed the beer on the coffee table. There was a lot of it there. “Are we supposed to be drinking all that?”
“What? No, no! I brought extra to replace the ones we had last night. It was only fair, you’re providing the food.” Jared had gone a little red. Jensen wanted to kiss him. “And the pizza looks fine.”
Jensen put the pizzas down, grabbing a slice as he sat down beside Jared, all but shoving it in his mouth. Jared reached for one as well and for a little while they ate in comfortable silence. The more pizza they ate, the closer Jared moved to Jensen, until eventually, he put his arm over Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen sighed happily and snuggled a little closer.
“Pizza and cuddles,” Jared said softly. “What more could a guy ask for?”
“I’m sure there’s a game on.” He nudged Jared. “Pass me a beer?” He didn’t want to leave this snug little space he’d found for himself.
“You truly know the way to a man’s heart.” Jared grabbed the remote while he passed the beer over. Jensen was quiet as he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. He was content. It was a good evening, one of the best, and he felt an ache in his chest unravel, felt it drift away. Jared was quiet, murmuring sleepily at the game. Jensen let him doze against his shoulder possibly longer than he should have. Eventually he shook Jared awake.
“C’mon, Jared, up ya get.” Jensen gave him a gentle shake and Jared jerked, blinking slowly.
“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, yawning. He stretched his arms over his head. Jensen took that as his cue to stand up. He offered a hand up and Jared grabbed it, pulling himself to standing. He went in for a hug and Jensen, surprised, took a second to return it.
“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” Jared’s voice was muffled.
“I guess you’ll have to make it up to me.” The longer Jared touched him, the more his affection and feelings surrounded Jensen, the more confident Jensen felt in returning it. Jared hummed and rubbed his nose along Jensen’s neck, moving upwards to skim his mouth along Jensen’s jaw. Jensen shivered. Jared rubbed his lips across his slowly, ever so softly, until Jensen opened his mouth with a gasp. Jared took advantage of the opening and nipped at Jensen’s lower lip, kissing him slowly, deeply. Jensen felt as if he was vibrating, buzzing beneath his skin. He brought a hand up to curl into Jared’s hair and Jared made a little happy noise. Jensen tugged and that brought out a small moan. Jared pressed his body close into Jensen’s, slotting their hips together, placing a leg between Jensen’s thighs. Jensen went hot all over, melted into Jared. He was getting hard. Jared was already there. Jared was thrusting his tongue into his mouth, and Jensen surprised himself by skimming his other hand down Jared’s back, lower and lower until he could shove it under the top, get his fingers on Jared’s hot skin.
The TV was still on but he couldn’t hear it over their heavy breathing and the slick sounds of their mouths meeting. Jared kept making these noises and they lit Jensen up. He realised that they were moving against each other slowly, an almost dance.
Jensen wanted to get closer. He didn’t want to stop. He moved his hips against Jared and gasped at the burst of sweet friction, at Jared grinding back. Jared pulled back, let his hand drift down to Jensen’s ass and squeezed. This time, Jensen let it stay there.
“God, Jared,” he moaned. Jared squeezed harder and Jensen widened his legs. Jared pressed them into the space behind Jensen’s balls. He panted against Jared’s neck, shuddering. He could feel the sweat beginning to gather on Jared’s lower back.
“Fuck. Jesus fuck.” Jared’s voice was hoarse and Jensen couldn’t open his eyes, lost in the pressure and pleasure and friction. He was going to come in his jeans and he didn’t even care.
“I’m going to come,” he said. He pulled Jared’s head back so he could place a sucking, bruising kiss at the base of Jared’s throat. He shoved his hips harder against Jared, rubbed down against his thigh. Pleasure pooled in his lower spine. He was so close.
“That’s it, come for me. God,” Jared groaned. He rubbed hard circles into that sweet spot and Jensen was gone, coming in hard jerks, panting harsh and frenzied. His mind went blank as white hit pleasure zinged through him. He bit down on Jared’s neck and felt Jared spasm in his arms, letting out a long moan. He pulled back to watch Jared come, shivering with aftershocks, and found Jared already looking at him, skin flushed, eyes dark and heated. Jensen began to blush and pull away, feeling ridiculous. Jared reeled him back him, kissed him long and wet and deep. They pressed up against each other, grinding slowly as they came down. Eventually they parted, breathing heavily.
“That,” Jared said, “that was amazing.”
Jensen grinned, fierce and bright. “Hell yeah.” Then he winced at the pull of come in his boxers. “Although I’m going to have clean this mess.”
Jared moved back a step and made a face. He started to rearrange himself and then grimaced. “Yeah, I’m going to need a shower.” He gave Jensen a quick kiss. Then another one. And another one. Jensen let him. Jared moved closer, didn’t stop kissing him. Jensen had never felt so wanted.
“So, I have a suggestion,” Jared said, eventually pulling himself away from Jensen’s lips. Jensen couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah?”
Jared nodded. “Yup. I’m taking you out to breakfast this weekend. Does Sunday suit?”
“That sounds really good.” Jensen was smiling. He was never going to stop smiling.
“Perfect.” He gave Jensen one last kiss before moving to the door. “I’m going to have to go before my dick is permanently glued to my boxers.” He blew Jensen a kiss as he opened the door. Jensen laughed fondly. And then Jared was gone.
Jensen’s apartment was suddenly, almost overwhelmingly, quiet.
~*~
After his shower, his skin still tingling from orgasm and lips still swollen from kisses, he was sitting at his desk, pen gliding smoothly and freely over lined paper, when his agent called.
“Jensen,” Robert called down the phone, voice jovial but not really trying; he had no expectations, not after seven months of nothing. “A new instalment for Winchester coming soon?”
Jensen grinned, gazing out at the setting sun outside his window. “Actually, yes.” His grinned widened as he heard the shocked and disbelieving ‘Really?’ from Robert.
“Yup. Sitting at my desk right now, working on something new.”
“This is,” Robert spluttered, relieved, yes, but also anticipatory. “This is fantastic news, Jensen. Absolutely brilliant. Excellent.”
“Yuh-uh.” Jensen kicked his feet up onto his desk, feeling a freedom he hadn’t in years, that stone in his gut dissolving away, minute by minute. “I have a proposition for you, though. Well, perhaps more like a demand.”
“Oh.” Robert’s voice was flat, a staccato sound.
“I want to drop the pseudonym, use my real name. I think it might be time.”
“Are you sure? You went to great pains to keep your real identity secret.”
“Think about it, Robert. It would create a greater interest in my next publication, the unveiling of the mysterious D.S. Winchester. I would get more reviews. More reviews and greater interest equals bigger sales, right?”
“That’s all well and good, Jensen, but what about the fact you’ll be outing yourself and D.S. Winchester as gay? I’m sorry, but gay literature is still such a niche market.” Jensen closed his eyes and counted to ten. He breathed in and out slowly before he replied.
“When you first decided to publish my work, you knew that it was gay literature. I changed my name at the last minute. I understand that the perception of me being a woman has meant that my work has sold better than expected, but I am no longer willing to hide behind that name,” Jensen spoke with forced calm while his hand tightened around the phone. “I also understand that there may be a dip in sales, but that can be made up by the fact that I will be revealing my identity.”
Robert cleared his throat. Jensen could hear the rustling of papers. “Very well, then, Mr. Ackles. But may I say, on your own head be it.”
“Why, thank you so much for your endless words of encouragement,” Jensen said dryly.
“Yes, alright,” Robert sighed. “No need to be so testy. I’ll run up some preliminary stats and send out some feelers. Are you sure this is the way you want to go?”
Jensen thought about being open, being free, being acknowledged for who he was. He thought of Jared’s smile and his laughter, how his voice slurred when he got sleepy. He remembered the way Jared had spoken so intelligently of Jensen’s poetry, of his innate understanding. Jensen imagined his father looking on proudly and felt a gentle push forward.
“Yes,” Jensen said. “Absolutely.”
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