Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky (Jensen/Jared RPS) -- 51/51 - COMPLETE
Title: Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / Luanne (OFC); Jared Padalecki/Pete (OMC); Jared/Eric Kripke/JDM; stated Jared/Sandy; stated Jared/Rebecca (OFC) and stated Jared/Ryan (OMC)
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help. Things go (rapidly) downhill from there... then fester... then get better?
Come on! Hop in the handbasket! There be room here for everyone!
Spoilers: Overall there’s really nothing to see here… there are a few very vague spoilers for “Bugs” and some minor spoilers for “Faith”, “Bloody Mary” and "Shadow".
-------------------------
PRIOR CHAPTERS: EARLY MORNINGS AND LATE NIGHTS UNDER OVERCAST SKY
-- Chapter One: Saturday's Child
-- Chapter Two: Lies and Unspoken Truths
-- Chapter Three: Maintaining the Status Quo
-- Chapter Four: Not so Calm Before the Storm
-- Chapter Five: The Thunder Rolls
-- Chapter Six: And Again
-- Chapter Seven: More of the Same
-- Chapter Eight: What is Gone is Over
-- Chapter Nine: Reset, Repeat
-- Chapter Ten: Bliss and Other Ignorance
-- Chapter Eleven: gression, Re & Pro
-- Chapter Twelve: Here one Minute, Gone the Next
-- Chapter Thirteen: Tabula Rasa, or a Reasonable Copy of
-- Chapter Fourteen: Breaking Point
-- Chapter Fifteen: Home is Not Always Where the Heart is
-- Chapter Sixteen: Can't Go Home Again
-- Chapter Seventeen: For Better, Worse & Indifferent
-- Chapter Eighteen: What You Want
-- Chapter Nineteen: Gets Better Every Day
-- Chapter Twenty: North is Just a Direction on a Compass
-- Chapter Twenty-One: Always Darkest Before the Dawn
-- Chapter Twenty-Two: Easier Said than Done
-- Chapter Twenty-Three: Somebody Help me Breathe
-- Chapter Twenty-Four: Down the Rabbit Hole
-- Chapter Twenty-Five: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
-- Chapter Twenty-Six: Two Steps Forward...
-- Chapter Twenty-Seven: ...One Step Back?
-- Chapter Twenty-Eight: For Better or Worse
-- Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
-- Chapter Thirty: Conversations Pt. 2: Storytelling
-- Chapter Thirty-One: Flesh and Blood
-- Chapter Thirty-Two: Give to See Through this Cell Phone
-- Chapter Thirty-Three: Conversations Pt. 3: Turning Point
-- Chapter Thirty-Four: Conversations Pt. 4: Secrets Whispered
-- Chapter Thirty-Five: Conversations Pt. 5: Aftermath
-- Chapter Thirty-Six: Back to Work
-- Chapter Thirty-Seven: Shadows Come from Dark Places
-- Chapter Thirty-Eight: Just Another Day
-- Chapter Thirty-Nine: Dreaming in Color...
-- Chapter Forty: ...Living in Black and White
-- Chapter Forty-One: On the Road Again
-- Chapter Forty-Two: The Getaway
-- Chapter Forty-Three: Lord of Illusions
-- Chapter Forty-Four: Pieces of a Whole
-- Chapter Forty-Five: Living in Fear
-- Chapter Forty-Six: Moving On
-- Chapter Forty-Seven: Just Another Word for Trust
-- Chapter Forty-Eight: Still Tired in the Morning
-- Chapter Forty-Nine: My Way, the Highway, and Dr. McKayne’s Way
-- Chapter Fifty: Cracked Around the Edges
-------------------------
Chapter Fifty-One: And in Closing… This
Rating: R / Hard R for m/m slash kiss and some petting and some adult themes and content
Pairing: Jensen/Jared - stated and accepted and We’re THERE.
Word Count: This Chapter: 2,263
Overall/Total: 130,905
Ok folks… this is it. The last chapter. I know there’s no pr0n. (omg I wrote 130,000 + words with no slash pr0n!!!) But hear me out. And don’t kill me. There will be a sequel. Or more than one sequel, depending.
See… this has gotten very long… and very detailed… and there are a lot of issues that both Jensen and Jared need to address and accept… and I think they can do that without my help. So… I think we’re at a point where we can take a break from their story.
And we’ll pick it up later, when they’re ready to take that step into bed-or wherever else they choose to get on with the pr0n.
And if any other writers want to try their hand and write scenes / stories from this universe, I welcome it! We can have our own little Overcast World. An OW for our AU.
That all being said.
The first sequel should be up (hopefully) soon!
And on to the conclusion of “Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky”…
-------------------------
Chapter Fifty-One: And in Closing… This
When I kiss my way back up his chest after laving attention on the scar left behind by a splintered baseball bat and hate, I’m aware of every twitch, every jerk of his body. He’s no longer crying, at least not outright, and not as hysterically as he was before, but his shoulders still shake, and his breath is still uneven, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, coming fast for a time and then slowing. His eyes are still full of tears that shine in the firelight, full of emotions I can’t give name to.
He lets me kiss his lips, even parts them and responds when I push at them with my tongue. But I can feel he’s holding back.
“Jare?” I question, lifting up from him so I can look down, into his eyes.
He blinks, sending previously unshed tears down his cheeks. They follow the same pattern as tears already cried, traveling in drips and tiny rivulets down paths to his jaw and neck. His eyes don’t meet mine-they flicker from spot to spot in the room, focusing on a million different things, and never on me. His hands come to rest on my chest, and he pushes gently. His name is once again a whispered question-“Jare?”
“I…” He starts nervously. “I’m scared, Jen... I want this… and I want you… more than anything. I just…” He turns his head from side to side and doesn’t finish his thought. He bites at his lower lip thoughtfully, and then suddenly, his mouth is on mine, and his hands are everywhere-tugging at the bottom of my shirt, threading through my hair, pressing into my chest and sliding over my shoulders, down my back to rest on the curve of my ass. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel his lips as they move from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck.
As good as this feels, physically, and as much as I feel like this-all of this-is right, at least… right in the sense that it’s Jared and I love him and I want this with him… there’s a voice in the back of my mind that could be my logical brain trying to talk through the Xanax, saying that this is wrong-not wrong in that the act is wrong or that homosexuality or bisexuality is wrong-but wrong in the sense that this… the here-and-now of it all-is somehow wrong.
I put a finger to Jared’s lips when they move to devour mine once again. “Jare…”
My mind is once again going a million miles a minute, thinking in drugged circles and part of me is grateful for it, because I’m not panicking, and another part of me wishes I hadn’t taken the Xanax, because maybe I’d be able to think more clearly about all this.
He tries to kiss through my finger, and his hands are snaking between us to work at the button and zipper of my jeans. I use my other hand to find his adventurous one, and still its explorations.
“Jare… stop.” Because it’s too much like what I did. Rushing headlong into something neither of us is really ready for-not yet. I wasn’t sure about it just this morning-I thought maybe both of us were ready and just needed a push from the other, but I see now. I don’t want my first experience with a man to be while drugged and loopy. And I want it to just… happen. I don’t want it to feel rushed or forced or like something we have to do. And Jared… there’s no way Jared’s ready for this.
Jared’s been dealing with what happened to him six years ago, maybe in the only way he thought he could-by burying it and ignoring it, thinking if he ignored it, pretended it never happened, then maybe it would just go away. So he got himself a girlfriend and a new place to live… new friends and a new job and a new life. And maybe he never wanted to talk about it before. Maybe he never needed to.
“Jare… stop.”
He does, almost instantaneously. And there’s hurt in his eyes, along with uncertainty and sorrow. His breath catches and he tilts his head questioningly. “Jen…”
I pull his hand from between us, from my crotch and the zipper of my pants, let him drape it around my shoulders. I play with his hair. “Jare…” I whisper.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I touch my finger to his lips again to silence him. “Jare… what are you doing?” I ask cautiously.
His hand works its way back down, and this time when I stop him, I wind my fingers between his, hold his hand still. He tightens his fingers in mine. “I thought… you wanted this…”
“I do.” I reply. “But Jare…” I don’t want to hurt him by telling him I don’t think he can handle it right now, even though, honestly, that’s what it comes down to. I don’t think Jared is emotionally capable of dealing with a sexual relationship with another man right now. I don’t think he’s really accepted… not even accepted… really just dealt with what was done to him six years ago.
I take a deep breath. “Jared… don’t… please don’t… take this the wrong way…”
“You want me to see a shrink.” He says quietly.
“Jare… listen to me.” I answer. “I don’t think… either of us is really ready to… you know…” I look down towards our groins. “It’s a big step… and… I’m just getting comfortable with being with you… and you…”
“Just say it, Jen.”
I kiss him gently, half-on and half-off the lips, just a brushing of my lips against his, trying to say with that simple action all that I can’t put into words-that I don’t want this to hurt him, that I’m not saying it as a cheap way out of something for myself, that I just want the best for him-that I care. I draw back after kissing him very slowly, then kiss him again for good measure before speaking softly, lips still close to his skin.
“You’ve been hurt, Jare… and… I really think… that it would help you… I think it would be good for you… to talk to someone.” There. I said it. I swallow harshly. “…talk to someone… …other than me… a professional. I think…”
This time, it’s his finger coming to my lips to silence me. “Jen… you don’t have to mince words. If you want me to see a shrink, just say so.”
I sigh heavily. “I think it would be good for you… to see a psychiatrist.” I wait for the yelling to start.
“Will you come with me?”
“Wai…what?” I do a double-take and look at him, not wanting to believe what he just said, or more the tone in which he said it.
“Will you come with me?” He asks again, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“If you want me to… if you, and the doctor… think it would be good.” I will go with him, if he wants me there, if the doctor he decides to go see thinks it would be helpful, or at the very least, not detrimental. “…you’re not… mad at me?”
He shakes his head. “I think maybe you’re right.” He shrugs. “Just… say that…”
“Jare… whatever you need.” I tell him. “I’ll go with you… I’ll be your friend…’
He kisses me. “Just be with me.”
I hope this means that we’re okay, and I hope it means we don’t have to continue talking about this. I have the feeling we’ll be doing a lot of talking in the coming months, both on our own and with a psychiatrist. I’m looking forward to it, even, looking forward to developing this new relationship with Jared.
He stops me from thinking by kissing me, deeply. When he pulls back, his hand is on my cheek, and one of my hands is tangled in his hair. There’s no way of telling how long we’ve spent kissing, and I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I run my tongue over my lips-I can still feel the tingling pressure of Jared’s mouth on them. I think I blush when I realize I like that feeling-but Jared doesn’t notice the coloring in my cheeks if I do. I’m glad.
It’s late, and we’re both tired. “Mmm sleepy, Jenny.” He whispers. His eyes are heavy, his voice listless.
“Yeah.” I get up, offer him a hand and haul him to his feet. “C’mon… let’s get to bed… we’ll call it a night.”
We brush our teeth, and I strip of my undershirt and we both change into sweatpants. Jared tends to the fire, makes sure it’s completely extinguished before also checking the front door to make sure it’s latched and locked. We’re the only ones out here, but no sense in taking unnecessary chances.
I take a piss and wash my face, do a set of twenty-five push ups and fifty sit ups-not much in the way of a workout, but it’s better than nothing. When I push myself off the floor, Jared’s standing at the side of the bed, holding the bottle of sleeping pills and wearing an undershirt.
I think he’s surprised when I don’t argue with him, just hold out my hand and take a pill from him when he taps one into his hand from the bottle. I swallow it with a couple sips of water, and lie down. Jared curls next to me, spoons himself behind me, and I settle against him, feeling comfortable and at peace for the first time in a long while.
I tug at his shirt. I’m sleeping in just pants, I thought he might too. “Jare?” I question, expecting that the subject of the question is the shirt I’m tugging at will be understood.
“I…”
I roll over in his arms so I’m facing him. “Jare… if this is about the scars…”
He averts his eyes. “Don’t, Jen… please… they’re… you know how I feel about them…”
“What did you do while you were fucking Sandy?” I ask. The question just came to mind. It’s probably not the best thing to ask him, but I don’t always think before I talk.
He looks at me and offers a wan smile, and I know. He tried to forget they were there… dragged her hands away when they got too close and maybe after a while she just learned not to touch around his midsection, his hip bones. Or maybe he just stiffened every time she touched them… maybe she never asked and I know he never told.
“Sorry.” Even though I’m not, and it doesn’t sound very contrite.
“Yeah.” Jared fingers the hem of the shirt, looks down at it, and I can see the internal conflict.
“Take it off, Jare… sleep without it.” I tell him, yawning.
He sits up and tugs the shirt down, rolls the fabric between his fingers, and I’m about to tell him again just to take it off and sleep without it, but as I open my mouth, he crosses his arms and lifts, peeling the shirt off, over his head. I force myself not to look at the scars-Jared does enough for both of us. His chin and eyes are cast down self-consciously as he slowly maneuvers himself back into bed, once again settling behind me, and I think that’s more out of self-consciousness than anything else, though logistically it’s probably the way that makes most sense too-he’s taller, his body will curve more easily around mine than mine will around his.
His hand comes to rest on the waistband of my sweats, slides up onto bare skin, then across my stomach to my chest.
I stiffen slightly when I feel the drug starting to take effect, subconsciously try to fight the drowsy effect so I don’t have to dream, don’t have to sleep in fear of the nightmares.
“Jen…” Jared pulls my back close to his chest. “Jen, relax… just sleep… it’s okay… I promise…”
“…the nightmares…” I whisper uncertainly, my voice already barely audible and my words slurred from drowsiness.
“No nightmares.” He whispers, more like he’s giving my subconscious mind an order than reassuring my conscious mind. “No nightmares…” He repeats, then touches his lips to the nape of my neck, and I can feel his breath, hot and damp against my hairline. “You’ll be okay.” His lips tickle as they move in my razor-shorn hair.
I close my eyes, and think that I could get used to this-it’s nice. Jared’s fingers are moving-trailing lightly over my bare chest-and they eventually slow, come to a stop over my heart once more. He whispers the words “sleep, Jenny” at no discernable pattern of intervals, his own voice getting deeper and more husky as sleep takes him.
I press closer to him, figuring we’re both close enough to sleep that it could be chalked up to something I did in my sleep if he asks come morning, murmur something that isn’t meant to be coherent, and give in to the gentle lull of the medication, and the solid warmth that is Jared behind me, his strength and comfort. I drift off to sleep minutes later, into a peaceful and restful sleep, with no nightmares, and no strange dreams. I don’t think I dream at all.
-------------------------
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / Luanne (OFC); Jared Padalecki/Pete (OMC); Jared/Eric Kripke/JDM; stated Jared/Sandy; stated Jared/Rebecca (OFC) and stated Jared/Ryan (OMC)
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help. Things go (rapidly) downhill from there... then fester... then get better?
Come on! Hop in the handbasket! There be room here for everyone!
Spoilers: Overall there’s really nothing to see here… there are a few very vague spoilers for “Bugs” and some minor spoilers for “Faith”, “Bloody Mary” and "Shadow".
-------------------------
PRIOR CHAPTERS: EARLY MORNINGS AND LATE NIGHTS UNDER OVERCAST SKY
-- Chapter One: Saturday's Child
-- Chapter Two: Lies and Unspoken Truths
-- Chapter Three: Maintaining the Status Quo
-- Chapter Four: Not so Calm Before the Storm
-- Chapter Five: The Thunder Rolls
-- Chapter Six: And Again
-- Chapter Seven: More of the Same
-- Chapter Eight: What is Gone is Over
-- Chapter Nine: Reset, Repeat
-- Chapter Ten: Bliss and Other Ignorance
-- Chapter Eleven: gression, Re & Pro
-- Chapter Twelve: Here one Minute, Gone the Next
-- Chapter Thirteen: Tabula Rasa, or a Reasonable Copy of
-- Chapter Fourteen: Breaking Point
-- Chapter Fifteen: Home is Not Always Where the Heart is
-- Chapter Sixteen: Can't Go Home Again
-- Chapter Seventeen: For Better, Worse & Indifferent
-- Chapter Eighteen: What You Want
-- Chapter Nineteen: Gets Better Every Day
-- Chapter Twenty: North is Just a Direction on a Compass
-- Chapter Twenty-One: Always Darkest Before the Dawn
-- Chapter Twenty-Two: Easier Said than Done
-- Chapter Twenty-Three: Somebody Help me Breathe
-- Chapter Twenty-Four: Down the Rabbit Hole
-- Chapter Twenty-Five: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
-- Chapter Twenty-Six: Two Steps Forward...
-- Chapter Twenty-Seven: ...One Step Back?
-- Chapter Twenty-Eight: For Better or Worse
-- Chapter Twenty-Nine: Conversations Pt. 1: Revelations
-- Chapter Thirty: Conversations Pt. 2: Storytelling
-- Chapter Thirty-One: Flesh and Blood
-- Chapter Thirty-Two: Give to See Through this Cell Phone
-- Chapter Thirty-Three: Conversations Pt. 3: Turning Point
-- Chapter Thirty-Four: Conversations Pt. 4: Secrets Whispered
-- Chapter Thirty-Five: Conversations Pt. 5: Aftermath
-- Chapter Thirty-Six: Back to Work
-- Chapter Thirty-Seven: Shadows Come from Dark Places
-- Chapter Thirty-Eight: Just Another Day
-- Chapter Thirty-Nine: Dreaming in Color...
-- Chapter Forty: ...Living in Black and White
-- Chapter Forty-One: On the Road Again
-- Chapter Forty-Two: The Getaway
-- Chapter Forty-Three: Lord of Illusions
-- Chapter Forty-Four: Pieces of a Whole
-- Chapter Forty-Five: Living in Fear
-- Chapter Forty-Six: Moving On
-- Chapter Forty-Seven: Just Another Word for Trust
-- Chapter Forty-Eight: Still Tired in the Morning
-- Chapter Forty-Nine: My Way, the Highway, and Dr. McKayne’s Way
-- Chapter Fifty: Cracked Around the Edges
-------------------------
Chapter Fifty-One: And in Closing… This
Rating: R / Hard R for m/m slash kiss and some petting and some adult themes and content
Pairing: Jensen/Jared - stated and accepted and We’re THERE.
Word Count: This Chapter: 2,263
Overall/Total: 130,905
Ok folks… this is it. The last chapter. I know there’s no pr0n. (omg I wrote 130,000 + words with no slash pr0n!!!) But hear me out. And don’t kill me. There will be a sequel. Or more than one sequel, depending.
See… this has gotten very long… and very detailed… and there are a lot of issues that both Jensen and Jared need to address and accept… and I think they can do that without my help. So… I think we’re at a point where we can take a break from their story.
And we’ll pick it up later, when they’re ready to take that step into bed-or wherever else they choose to get on with the pr0n.
And if any other writers want to try their hand and write scenes / stories from this universe, I welcome it! We can have our own little Overcast World. An OW for our AU.
That all being said.
The first sequel should be up (hopefully) soon!
And on to the conclusion of “Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky”…
-------------------------
Chapter Fifty-One: And in Closing… This
When I kiss my way back up his chest after laving attention on the scar left behind by a splintered baseball bat and hate, I’m aware of every twitch, every jerk of his body. He’s no longer crying, at least not outright, and not as hysterically as he was before, but his shoulders still shake, and his breath is still uneven, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, coming fast for a time and then slowing. His eyes are still full of tears that shine in the firelight, full of emotions I can’t give name to.
He lets me kiss his lips, even parts them and responds when I push at them with my tongue. But I can feel he’s holding back.
“Jare?” I question, lifting up from him so I can look down, into his eyes.
He blinks, sending previously unshed tears down his cheeks. They follow the same pattern as tears already cried, traveling in drips and tiny rivulets down paths to his jaw and neck. His eyes don’t meet mine-they flicker from spot to spot in the room, focusing on a million different things, and never on me. His hands come to rest on my chest, and he pushes gently. His name is once again a whispered question-“Jare?”
“I…” He starts nervously. “I’m scared, Jen... I want this… and I want you… more than anything. I just…” He turns his head from side to side and doesn’t finish his thought. He bites at his lower lip thoughtfully, and then suddenly, his mouth is on mine, and his hands are everywhere-tugging at the bottom of my shirt, threading through my hair, pressing into my chest and sliding over my shoulders, down my back to rest on the curve of my ass. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel his lips as they move from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck.
As good as this feels, physically, and as much as I feel like this-all of this-is right, at least… right in the sense that it’s Jared and I love him and I want this with him… there’s a voice in the back of my mind that could be my logical brain trying to talk through the Xanax, saying that this is wrong-not wrong in that the act is wrong or that homosexuality or bisexuality is wrong-but wrong in the sense that this… the here-and-now of it all-is somehow wrong.
I put a finger to Jared’s lips when they move to devour mine once again. “Jare…”
My mind is once again going a million miles a minute, thinking in drugged circles and part of me is grateful for it, because I’m not panicking, and another part of me wishes I hadn’t taken the Xanax, because maybe I’d be able to think more clearly about all this.
He tries to kiss through my finger, and his hands are snaking between us to work at the button and zipper of my jeans. I use my other hand to find his adventurous one, and still its explorations.
“Jare… stop.” Because it’s too much like what I did. Rushing headlong into something neither of us is really ready for-not yet. I wasn’t sure about it just this morning-I thought maybe both of us were ready and just needed a push from the other, but I see now. I don’t want my first experience with a man to be while drugged and loopy. And I want it to just… happen. I don’t want it to feel rushed or forced or like something we have to do. And Jared… there’s no way Jared’s ready for this.
Jared’s been dealing with what happened to him six years ago, maybe in the only way he thought he could-by burying it and ignoring it, thinking if he ignored it, pretended it never happened, then maybe it would just go away. So he got himself a girlfriend and a new place to live… new friends and a new job and a new life. And maybe he never wanted to talk about it before. Maybe he never needed to.
“Jare… stop.”
He does, almost instantaneously. And there’s hurt in his eyes, along with uncertainty and sorrow. His breath catches and he tilts his head questioningly. “Jen…”
I pull his hand from between us, from my crotch and the zipper of my pants, let him drape it around my shoulders. I play with his hair. “Jare…” I whisper.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I touch my finger to his lips again to silence him. “Jare… what are you doing?” I ask cautiously.
His hand works its way back down, and this time when I stop him, I wind my fingers between his, hold his hand still. He tightens his fingers in mine. “I thought… you wanted this…”
“I do.” I reply. “But Jare…” I don’t want to hurt him by telling him I don’t think he can handle it right now, even though, honestly, that’s what it comes down to. I don’t think Jared is emotionally capable of dealing with a sexual relationship with another man right now. I don’t think he’s really accepted… not even accepted… really just dealt with what was done to him six years ago.
I take a deep breath. “Jared… don’t… please don’t… take this the wrong way…”
“You want me to see a shrink.” He says quietly.
“Jare… listen to me.” I answer. “I don’t think… either of us is really ready to… you know…” I look down towards our groins. “It’s a big step… and… I’m just getting comfortable with being with you… and you…”
“Just say it, Jen.”
I kiss him gently, half-on and half-off the lips, just a brushing of my lips against his, trying to say with that simple action all that I can’t put into words-that I don’t want this to hurt him, that I’m not saying it as a cheap way out of something for myself, that I just want the best for him-that I care. I draw back after kissing him very slowly, then kiss him again for good measure before speaking softly, lips still close to his skin.
“You’ve been hurt, Jare… and… I really think… that it would help you… I think it would be good for you… to talk to someone.” There. I said it. I swallow harshly. “…talk to someone… …other than me… a professional. I think…”
This time, it’s his finger coming to my lips to silence me. “Jen… you don’t have to mince words. If you want me to see a shrink, just say so.”
I sigh heavily. “I think it would be good for you… to see a psychiatrist.” I wait for the yelling to start.
“Will you come with me?”
“Wai…what?” I do a double-take and look at him, not wanting to believe what he just said, or more the tone in which he said it.
“Will you come with me?” He asks again, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“If you want me to… if you, and the doctor… think it would be good.” I will go with him, if he wants me there, if the doctor he decides to go see thinks it would be helpful, or at the very least, not detrimental. “…you’re not… mad at me?”
He shakes his head. “I think maybe you’re right.” He shrugs. “Just… say that…”
“Jare… whatever you need.” I tell him. “I’ll go with you… I’ll be your friend…’
He kisses me. “Just be with me.”
I hope this means that we’re okay, and I hope it means we don’t have to continue talking about this. I have the feeling we’ll be doing a lot of talking in the coming months, both on our own and with a psychiatrist. I’m looking forward to it, even, looking forward to developing this new relationship with Jared.
He stops me from thinking by kissing me, deeply. When he pulls back, his hand is on my cheek, and one of my hands is tangled in his hair. There’s no way of telling how long we’ve spent kissing, and I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I run my tongue over my lips-I can still feel the tingling pressure of Jared’s mouth on them. I think I blush when I realize I like that feeling-but Jared doesn’t notice the coloring in my cheeks if I do. I’m glad.
It’s late, and we’re both tired. “Mmm sleepy, Jenny.” He whispers. His eyes are heavy, his voice listless.
“Yeah.” I get up, offer him a hand and haul him to his feet. “C’mon… let’s get to bed… we’ll call it a night.”
We brush our teeth, and I strip of my undershirt and we both change into sweatpants. Jared tends to the fire, makes sure it’s completely extinguished before also checking the front door to make sure it’s latched and locked. We’re the only ones out here, but no sense in taking unnecessary chances.
I take a piss and wash my face, do a set of twenty-five push ups and fifty sit ups-not much in the way of a workout, but it’s better than nothing. When I push myself off the floor, Jared’s standing at the side of the bed, holding the bottle of sleeping pills and wearing an undershirt.
I think he’s surprised when I don’t argue with him, just hold out my hand and take a pill from him when he taps one into his hand from the bottle. I swallow it with a couple sips of water, and lie down. Jared curls next to me, spoons himself behind me, and I settle against him, feeling comfortable and at peace for the first time in a long while.
I tug at his shirt. I’m sleeping in just pants, I thought he might too. “Jare?” I question, expecting that the subject of the question is the shirt I’m tugging at will be understood.
“I…”
I roll over in his arms so I’m facing him. “Jare… if this is about the scars…”
He averts his eyes. “Don’t, Jen… please… they’re… you know how I feel about them…”
“What did you do while you were fucking Sandy?” I ask. The question just came to mind. It’s probably not the best thing to ask him, but I don’t always think before I talk.
He looks at me and offers a wan smile, and I know. He tried to forget they were there… dragged her hands away when they got too close and maybe after a while she just learned not to touch around his midsection, his hip bones. Or maybe he just stiffened every time she touched them… maybe she never asked and I know he never told.
“Sorry.” Even though I’m not, and it doesn’t sound very contrite.
“Yeah.” Jared fingers the hem of the shirt, looks down at it, and I can see the internal conflict.
“Take it off, Jare… sleep without it.” I tell him, yawning.
He sits up and tugs the shirt down, rolls the fabric between his fingers, and I’m about to tell him again just to take it off and sleep without it, but as I open my mouth, he crosses his arms and lifts, peeling the shirt off, over his head. I force myself not to look at the scars-Jared does enough for both of us. His chin and eyes are cast down self-consciously as he slowly maneuvers himself back into bed, once again settling behind me, and I think that’s more out of self-consciousness than anything else, though logistically it’s probably the way that makes most sense too-he’s taller, his body will curve more easily around mine than mine will around his.
His hand comes to rest on the waistband of my sweats, slides up onto bare skin, then across my stomach to my chest.
I stiffen slightly when I feel the drug starting to take effect, subconsciously try to fight the drowsy effect so I don’t have to dream, don’t have to sleep in fear of the nightmares.
“Jen…” Jared pulls my back close to his chest. “Jen, relax… just sleep… it’s okay… I promise…”
“…the nightmares…” I whisper uncertainly, my voice already barely audible and my words slurred from drowsiness.
“No nightmares.” He whispers, more like he’s giving my subconscious mind an order than reassuring my conscious mind. “No nightmares…” He repeats, then touches his lips to the nape of my neck, and I can feel his breath, hot and damp against my hairline. “You’ll be okay.” His lips tickle as they move in my razor-shorn hair.
I close my eyes, and think that I could get used to this-it’s nice. Jared’s fingers are moving-trailing lightly over my bare chest-and they eventually slow, come to a stop over my heart once more. He whispers the words “sleep, Jenny” at no discernable pattern of intervals, his own voice getting deeper and more husky as sleep takes him.
I press closer to him, figuring we’re both close enough to sleep that it could be chalked up to something I did in my sleep if he asks come morning, murmur something that isn’t meant to be coherent, and give in to the gentle lull of the medication, and the solid warmth that is Jared behind me, his strength and comfort. I drift off to sleep minutes later, into a peaceful and restful sleep, with no nightmares, and no strange dreams. I don’t think I dream at all.
-------------------------