The Play Nice Proviso: Seven
Here I go, I’m shaking just like the breeze
Jensen had reached his limit.
First: Jared had blown him off in LA. It was not entirely unexpected. He did realize that Jared had a fiancée whom he hardly ever got to see, so while he didn’t like being relegated to second best, he understood it. Heck, Danneel had chewed off his ear about not being an attentive boyfriend, so yeah, he got it. Long distance relationships were hard. He knew all that. His problem, however, was that whatever had happened in LA had somehow resulted in Jared... moping. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.
Second: he was actively avoiding Jensen. Which was not only a ridiculous endeavor but also damn difficult to accomplish considering they spent every waking moment together.
Third: Jensen discovered that he did not appreciate a Jared-free existence as much as he had once thought he would. Because ever since he had realized that he (thankfully) no longer had a reason to hate him, Jared had deliberately and diabolically wormed his way in almost every aspect of Jensen’s life. And it just wasn’t fair for Jared to suddenly take that all away from Jensen; in fact, it was downright cruel.
Fourth, fifth and sixth: Jensen missed him. The idiot.
He missed his easy grins, the playful touches, the funny banter, the stupid pranks. After Mack had cleared the air, and they had made up (with a distinct lack of any sort of kissing, thank God for small mercies), they just weirdly slipped into this whole friendship thing with such ease that Jensen hadn’t even felt the need to analyze it. Which was strange for him; he was a person who debated the pros and cons of what cereal he ate every morning, and that should have been worrisome. Except there was no worry; the entire experience had been relatively stress-free. They just fell into a routine of sorts: work, eat, go home, eat, hang out, eat, sleep, wake up, eat and start all over again. Jensen had never eaten so much in his life. And days off just meant they didn’t go to work.
The funniest thing, though, was how not sick of each other they were, especially since the only time they spent apart was when they slept. And by all rights, Jensen should have been rendered comatose by Jared talking his ear off by now; the man had no off-switch. Sometimes, he was so full of life and fucking vitality, it just made Jensen feel old and decrepit. So, Jensen was supposed to be the grumpy one. Jared was supposed to be not-so-little Miss Mary Sunshine. Those were their roles in real life, just like Dean and Sam were their roles in reel life. That was just the way of their world and damn it, it just didn’t work the other way around; it wasn’t right. Jensen was too much of an ornery bastard to be all sunshine and rainbows. It wasn’t in his nature.
So he really didn’t appreciate being put in the position where he was trying to come up with ways to cheer up his moody co-star - especially when he could be using his time to do other more important things, like sleeping. Not that he was losing sleep over Jared. Because how ludicrous was that? No... he was just stressed. And mainlining caffeine. And... yeah.
So Jensen, in an act of desperation, twizzled Jared. As in, he sauntered up from behind him, playfully patted his ass and then poked Jared in the dimple with a strawberry twizzler clamped between his teeth. During an interview, with the cameras rolling, no less. Sure, it was childish but this was Jared. And that small, shy smile on his co-star’s face had been totally worth it. It wasn’t enough though, so when an opportunity arose, Jensen decided to bring out the big guns and channel his inner goofball. And he never, not for a second, regretted it.
Honest to God: Jensen Ackles was the man.
Holy crap, Jared wheezed, he hadn’t laughed this hard in months. Freakin’ months. And after the fiasco with Sandy, this was exactly what he needed.
Because right then, on the spur of the moment, while they were filming a scene where Dean was supposed to be laying down across the front seat of the Impala, rocking out and lip-synching to ‘Eye of the Tiger’, Jared (in cahoots with Phil, their director du jour) decided not to rap on the roof of the car to give Jensen his cue. Just to see what Jensen would do.
And damned if they weren’t disappointed as the music started.
Jesus.
Jared knew there would be moments in his life that he would always remember, both good and bad, but watching Jensen lip-synch and fucking own ‘Eye of the Tiger’ like it was written specifically for him? - that was something Jared would never, ever forget. That moment of time was forever burned into his mind.
Especially when Jensen had popped his damn collar before looking straight at him and pointing, eyes blazing like an emerald inferno, while he mouthed the words: It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight. Rising up to the challenge of our rivals.
Then he played the guitar on his leg and Jared had promptly lost his shit.
And it didn’t matter at all because once Jensen was done, he had lost his shit too.
Jared - heart in his throat, choking on air, hunger and want shooting through his body, his dick hardening instantaneously, almost painfully - just stared in wonder.
He had never felt this way before. This much, this soon, this bad, this... good. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this moment, this epiphany. Nothing really could have. If there had been warning signs, he hadn’t really recognized them, or he had ignored them altogether. And so when it did hit him - and it would have hit him sooner or later, no matter what, that much he understood - it felt like being broadsided by a high-speed train and then, just for kicks, being dragged along behind it.
Even the air he breathed seemed to be different. It had a taste now, a scent, a sound. Jensen. Just because he stood close, grinning that grin of his that melted Jared’s insides.
“Feeling better, Jay?” He smirked, eyes bright and so obviously happy to see Jared laughing, like everything he had done had been specifically to put a smile on Jared’s face. Jared nodded, quite unable to string together a coherent sentence. “Good, ‘cause I ain’t doing that shit again. Next time, gimme my cue, asshole.”
Yeah, he was feeling better. Or worse. Depended on your perspective. He wasn’t too sure himself. It just suddenly felt like life would never be the same again.
He was falling in love with Jensen.
He was so fucked.
Jensen viciously kicked a bucket. Not the bucket, a bucket. Because one moment Jared had been laughing and fucking fine and the next, or as soon as Phil had called an end to the shoot, he had stalked away to his trailer, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t even walk like he usually did any more.
A crewmember ran over to right the toppled bucket. Jensen glared at him, and the guy carefully laid the bucket back down on its side before scampering away again. Great. Now he was scaring the scrawny kiddie members of the crew. Seriously, Jared needed a good talking-to. Whatever the fuck was going on with Sandy (and Jensen just knew it had something to do with Sandy), he needed to leave it the fuck in LA because Jensen, even though he knew it was selfish, just couldn’t take it anymore.
And now he was itching for a confrontation, because otherwise well, he didn’t know what, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. He stomped over to Jared’s trailer, ignoring and almost bowling over Bob and Eric, who was in town from LA, and Lizzie, Eric’s PA, when they tried to intercept him. Once there, he threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him with a bang.
Temper boiling over, he stared at Jared who stood by the window, looking out through the slightly open blinds, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence. Jensen tried desperately to control his breathing and then tried even harder to control his mouth. But before he could say a word, Jared glanced in his direction, eyes bleary and red, cheeks tear-stained.
Jensen felt that look hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, robbing him of his breath, his voice.
“I broke up with Sandy.”
Christ. Jensen was not expecting to hear that. He walked over to stand next to him.
“Dude,” he huffed. He sucked at comforting other people. “I’m sorry, man.” He really, really sucked at this. In fact, he actively avoided exactly this sort of situation and let someone else handle it. But this time, he thought, as his arm automatically wrapped itself around Jared’s broad shoulders, he didn’t want anyone else finding Jared like this. Truth be told, there was nowhere else he would rather be.
Jared seemed hesitant, but Jensen tightened his hold on him and suddenly found himself with an armful of Padalecki. Jared buried his face in the crook between Jensen’s neck and his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso. So, Jensen just held him. He may or may not have murmured nonsensical soothing things while rubbing his hand up and down Jared’s back. He may or may not have stroked his fingers through Jared’s thick, soft hair in a reassuring manner. He may or may not have gotten slightly aroused while doing all of the above, damn himself to hell and back.
Jesus, but he was scum. And he needed to disengage himself from this embrace right the fuck now or he’d never be able to look his co-star in the face again.
He’d been a fool to think he had gotten over these ridiculous feelings - he had steadfastly refused to put a name to them - for Jared.
“Jay,” he started, pulling himself back, and although it was really the last thing he wanted to do, he forcibly removed Jared’s arms from around his body. Jared looked even more hurt at that; Jensen wouldn’t have thought it possible had he not seen the look for himself. But before he could do something colossally stupid like hug Jared again, he turned and walked to the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later with a washcloth dampened in cold water. “Come on, man,” he muttered as Jared looked at him in surprise when he started wiping down Jared’s tear-stained face. “You know I suck at this sort of thing.”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”
And Jensen felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. “Yeah well, I still don’t ever want that fact to stop you from telling me important stuff like this ever again. You hear me, Jay? Been going outta my freakin’ mind trying to figure out what the hell stole your smile away. I’m supposed to be Grumpy, remember? I was having an existential crisis, dude. You can’t just spring this shit on me. Regardless of what it’s doing to you. You need to focus, Jared; hasn’t working with me all these years taught you anything? It’s all about me, dude.” Jared actually giggled at that and Jensen wanted to whoop for joy. But he kept his features neutral. “And FYI, in case you didn’t realize, you’re Dopey.”
“Nah, I’m Happy.”
“No, I’m pretty sure you’re Dopey.”
“You’re dopey.”
“Whatever.” Jensen, satisfied that Jared looked somewhat like his normal self, tossed the washcloth onto a nearby table. Then he brushed his hands through Jared’s hair, smoothing down the flyaway strands, and without thinking - goddamn it - he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss at Jared’s temple.
Jared’s eyes widened comically, and Jensen had to pull himself together quickly, and quite admirably, if he did say so himself.
“What?” he deadpanned. “You gonna cry like a girl, I’ma treat you like a girl. Now, for goddamn once, we’ve been given our freedom while it’s still light out, so get your shit together and let’s go home, get hammered and play some Halo.”
“How do you always just know? God, I love you.” It was said quietly, hurriedly, eyes quickly cast downwards as the words were said and for a moment, something in Jared’s tone made Jensen freeze in abject terror before he remembered who he was talking to.
Jared told the girl behind the counter at Starbucks the same thing on a daily basis.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a shoe-in as president of my fan club, Padalecki,” he muttered, slinging an arm around his co-star’s shoulders pulling him in for one last hug. Because he couldn’t not. And what the hell, in for a dime, in for a dollar, right? He kissed him again, though this time it was a smacking kiss on the forehead. “Come on, baby girl, let’s get you home.”
“Asshole.” The insult was rendered completely ineffective by the loud laugh it was wrapped around.
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“Powerpuff girl.”
“What the fuck?” Jared laughed as they stumbled down the steps, still laughing.
“I don’t even know how I know that.”
“It’s ‘cause you’re a big girl who watches little girl cartoons.”
“It’s because you make me watch the Cartoon Network on Saturday mornings. Which makes you an even bigger little girl,” Jensen groused.
“Riiiiight.”
“Idiot.”
“You love me too, might as well admit it.”
“Nope. Hate you.”
“You know, I’ve heard tell that there’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“Is it blue?”
“If it was, you’re no Rowan Atkinson, dude.”
“True. He’s way hotter.”
“Word. I love BBC Canada,” Jared nodded sagely as Jensen smirked up at him. Then he grabbed Jensen by the collar of Dean’s jacket, yanking him close, bright hazel eyes flashing green sparks as they lit up in excitement and big hands thumping Jensen’s chest. “Dude! Mr. Bean marathon!”
“Let’s do it.”
“Awesome... shit,” Jared frowned suddenly, his gaze focused on a point behind Jensen’s left shoulder. “It’s the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Only they don’t have horses and there are three of ‘em, not four.” Jensen turned to look and they both watched, trying not to smirk as the Minions approached them, Eric straggling behind with Lizzie.
“Maybe Eric’s the fourth,” Jensen tried not to giggle. It actually took a bit of an effort. Jared snorted into his hand.
“What were they again? War, Death...?”
“Pestilence and Famine.”
“Well, by process of elimination alone, that would make Eric Famine,” Jared had no qualms giggling. He clutched the sleeve of Jensen’s jacket and for a moment, hid his face in Jensen’s shoulder.
“You know who I think they look like?”
“The agents from The Matrix?”
“Dude.” There was a whole lot of respect in that one word as Jensen leaned into Jared to try and smother his laughter as well. He didn’t know why he was still amazed that Jared got him better than any other person on the planet.
“Which one do you think is Smith?”
“Three,” Jensen answered immediately, and elaborated at Jared’s puzzled look. “The one who never talks. He’s Three. Even though Smith was the talker, I think this guy’s more Smith ‘cause he looks like an evil, sadistic bastard. And if he ever did start talking, I don’t wanna be around to hear what he has to say. Also, he’s the highest up on the network food chain outta the three. Two is the one who’s always talking about legal, official shit and One is the dude who keeps talking about how awesome the show is and how it’s all on us ‘cause we have this amazing chemistry shit and I swear he’s got psychic mojo, ‘cause so far, he’s been right on the money about everything.”
Jared looked at him in awe. “Over-analyze much? Jesus.”
“Nah, I think they play for the other team.” Jensen laughed as Jared choked out a laugh. Jensen walloped Jared on his back. It was juvenile, and they were both being asinine but that haunted look was gone from Jared’s face and all was well with the world again - for the time being at least. Jensen sure as hell wasn’t about to let the Minions ruin that.
“Hey Jen, you’ll protect me from their evil clutches, right?” Jared edged behind Jensen as the Minions approached.
“Of course, princess. Don’t I always?” Jensen smirked at him over his shoulder.
“My hero,” Jared sighed, wrapping his arm around Jensen’s shoulders until his hand rested over his heart. Jensen fiercely shot down and stomped on the joyful feeling that the simple touch resulted in.
Eric took one look at them and none-too-subtly nudged Lizzie. “Call Hell. Give ‘em a heads up. Tell them there’s a cold front moving in.” Lizzie snorted and almost doubled over in laughter. Jensen ignored them and focused on the Minions instead.
“Mr. Ackles, Mr. Padalecki,” One greeted them, as three pairs of shrewd, beady eyes openly noted how close he and Jared were standing and the casual display of affection, which was so completely different from what they were used to, that Jensen wondered if they would actually do a little happy dance. Seconds passed as he and Jared mumbled a suitably appropriate greeting in return. And still no happy dance. Made sense, actually. Jensen didn’t think happy dances were up Satan’s alley. “Glad to see that the two of you appear to have fostered a truce of sorts.”
“Nah, we’re still mortal enemies,” Jared stated seriously.
“Yeah. Like Clark Kent and Lex Luthor,” Jensen smirked. “Oh, wait, maybe not.” He chuckled, suddenly thinking of Tom and Mike and all the unintentional homoerotic sexual tension between their characters on Smallville. Obviously Jared had the same idea because he was smothering his laughter at the back of Jensen’s neck, his breath warm and his chest shaking.
The Minions looked momentarily confused. Then they looked at each other. There seemed to be some sort of silent communication taking place and watching it was a little bit freaky. Actually, maybe a lot freaky.
Luckily Eric stepped in and they got down to business; this visit, for once, had nothing to do with the Play Nice Proviso.
All righty then. So he was in love with Jensen. He could deal.
It wasn’t as if this was the first time in his life that he had fallen in unrequited love with someone; he was a grown man, he could handle this with maturity and restraint. Except for the tiny little fact that Jensen was also a grown man. And that had never happened before, not to him anyway. He knew young Hollywood redefined sexual openness these days; experimenting with your sexuality was like a rite of passage. It was acceptable behavior, practically the norm. Except, Jared had never been tempted by so much as the thought of experimenting before, and he had certainly never been attracted to a man before.
If Jensen had been a girl, he would have turned on the charm full force. He would be flirting every chance he got. Could he do that with Jensen? Oh wait, no, he couldn’t, because Jensen was straight and Jensen had Danneel.
O-kay, so maybe he had no idea how to deal.
Obviously his plan to put some distance between him and Jensen had backfired spectacularly. Now Jensen actively sought him out. Now Jensen wanted to spend time with him. And after everything that had transpired between them, it struck as him the worst kind of irony that he now had exactly what he wanted: Jensen. Except, now he wanted more.
This couldn’t possibly end well.
A fact made imminently obvious to him when Jensen cornered him that night just before they headed to bed. “So it’s our first weekend off in what seems like forever. Let’s make the most of it, by which I mean let’s chill at home and do goddamn nothing. So, tomorrow, you make me lunch and I’ll make you dessert. It’ll be a surprise. Deal?”
Jensen’s desserts. Jensen as dessert. Jensen covered in dessert. Jared’s brain short-circuited. “Deal,” he breathed, leaning in a little closer, locking his gaze with Jensen’s, wanting to touch but holding back. “Man, I love surprises.”
“Idiot,” Jensen muttered affectionately, eyes alight with happiness, playfully punching him in the arm. And Jared moved away from him before he gave into the inclination to kiss Jen’s nose. That, he had a feeling, might not go over so well.
“Er... what brought this on? I thought you and Tom were playing golf this weekend.”
“Changed my mind. I’d rather hang at home with you.”
Jared’s insides turned to mush, so he joked to cover up how off-kilter he was feeling. “You love me.”
“Good night, Jared.”
“You can try and fight it, Jen, but dude, I’m wearing you down, baby. I’m wearing you dowwwwn.”
“Sweet dreams, Steve Urkel.”
“I love you too, Laura.”
Walking into the kitchen early the next morning kind of took Jensen’s breath away. Sunlight poured into the room through the many windows, the stained-glass casting their colorful hues all over the tiled floor. He would never tire of this, he thought.
A neon pink post-it on the coffee-maker caught his eye: Gone to pick up dogs, back soon, J.
Right. Jared had left the dogs in the kennel for the past couple of days because of their crazy shooting schedule; hopefully this week would be marginally less mind-numbing. Jensen figured that if he wanted to get started on the trifle, for which he needed to bake a cake, he needed a few things. Opening the cabinets, he checked on their staples like coffee and sugar too. He figured a Loblaws run was a requirement, right after he dropped by Starbucks of course; the only coffee left in the cupboard was their emergency instant stash. Also, the fridge was empty but he had no idea what Jared needed to make lunch, so he decided a quick run would work. He was gone and back before Jared even got home.
Home. One word he had never thought to apply to Vancouver. Now, it sounded good. He turned the radio on and got down to business.
The cake was already in the oven when he heard the front door open. “Hi honey, I’m home!” Jared called out just as Jensen was suddenly bowled over by Harley and Sadie. He got down on the floor to greet them properly. “What smells so amazing? Holy crap!”
“Got a cake in the oven.”
“Er...,” Jared looked at him, vaguely resembling a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mack truck.
“What?”
“Er... you have... on your face...,” Jared pointed, mouth working but no words coming out.
“What? Flour?”
“No,” he took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Glasses. Again. Er... I mean, since when have you worn glasses?”
“Since high school,” Jensen got a little self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. “I know I usually wear my contacts at home but I’m tired and my eyes are a little sensitive and yeah, I know, the glasses make me look like a huge dork. I get it. Move on.”
“You don’t... I mean... Oh, God,” Jared’s breathing sounded shallower, almost like he was hyperventilating. Which made no sense, none at all. Jensen looked up at him in concern.
“You all right, Jay?” He nodded, somewhat hesitantly.
“You’re gonna be wearing them all day?” O-kay. Now he sounded breathless and winded too.
“Yeah, Jay. You got some sort of weird-ass problem with that?” Jared shook his head vigorously, as if he was trying to clear it.
“No. No, of course not. I like ‘em. They make you look smart. So. That’s a plus.” He said obviously teasing, but Jensen could have sworn he heard the words I am so screwed muttered in an undertone tacked on at the end of his comment. It left him completely perplexed, but Jared continued and the weird moment passed. “Is that cake vanilla? ‘Cause that’s my favorite kind, you know.” Jensen nodded, laughing and suddenly unable to speak because Sadie was doing her level best to lick the freckles off his face. Jensen gave her a few more seconds and then stood and washed his face in the sink, wiping off with a paper towel.
“Hey, you went shopping without me?” Jared looked so comically put out, all pout and puppy-dog eyes, that Jensen had to laugh.
“I didn’t know when you’d be back, and I promised you dessert. I keep my promises, man. Especially when they involve dessert.”
“I knew I loved you for a reason, dude,” he grinned widely and shoved the dogs out into the hall before returning to open the fridge, obviously making a mental grocery list of the things he would need as Jensen whipped his cream. “I’m heading out to Loblaws. Anything you still need or you got it all?”
“Actually I meant to pick up a new razor but I forgot. Would you?”
“Yeah, man, what kind?”
“Gillette Mach 3.”
“Hmm,” Jared mumbled from just behind Jensen. He almost dropped the bowl he was holding in his surprise and frowned up at him, one eyebrow quirked up in question. Jared smirked, and suddenly there was his big hand caressing lightly down the side of Jensen’s face. “Makes sense. It is the best a man can get.”
Jensen snickered. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know,” he agreed softly, and something in his voice made Jensen look up at him, but whatever it was, it was gone and in a few minutes, so was Jared.
Jensen was done with the baking and had even cleared the kitchen by the time Jared got back, so he tried to read the newspaper at the breakfast booth while Jared cooked and chatted to him. And danced. Or at least that’s what Jensen assumed it was; his co-star was a spazz, truly. A small, contented smile settled in for the duration on his face as he filled in the crossword, Jared intermittently coming to stand behind him, his big hands absently massaging Jensen’s shoulders as he suggested insanely random answers for some of the clues, both of them laughing. He could get used to this, Jensen suddenly thought to himself, just this… every weekend. Maybe even every day.
He twiddled his pen over his knuckles as he surveyed the scene before him. The dogs were dozing on a patch of multi-colored sunshine coming in through the stained glass windows by Jensen’s side, Harley’s head actually resting atop his foot. Pots were simmering and bubbling softly on the stovetop, while the oven hummed along and the radio played a background accompaniment. Jared was at the sink, washing the dirty dishes that he had piled up, occasionally turning to smile and say something to him.
In spite of his break-up with Sandy, which Jensen did not know all the details of, except for the fact that it had happened in LA, Jared looked so… happy, Jensen realized; he looked exactly how Jensen felt.
Jensen drew in a deep breath and let it puff slowly out of his lungs; he knew he had issues. He knew he wasn’t easy to deal with sometimes, but with Jared it was almost as if they canceled out each other’s bad and stupid, like a math problem, and whatever was left was the right answer, straight up, no remainders, nothing to carry over. It was the closest damn thing to perfection that Jensen had ever experienced in his life. And it should have scared him. It should have. But, it didn’t. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect. A strange calm enveloped him, almost as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff, about to jump off, but he was all right with it, because he was strapped to a glider and he was going to soar. Not fall, never, because Jared wouldn’t allow it.
Corny as it sounded, Jared was like his glider.
The thought made him see Jared with new eyes almost as they sat eating together, and then again, surreptitiously, while they watched TV and devoured the fresh fruit trifle, which Jared had practically raved orgasmic over, much to Jensen’s combined delight and mortification. Somehow, they had dozed off on the couch together, leaning into each other, TV still on in the background. Then they woke up and threw something light together for dinner, Jensen bringing out his signature caramel éclairs that he had kept hidden earlier. The rapture on Jared’s face as his teeth sunk into the first éclair was totally worth the trouble he had taken to make them in the first place.
“Dude.”
The reverence in that one word didn’t require a response, so Jensen just smiled and turned back to the sink to finish the last of the washing up, thinking that this may just have been one of the best damn days of his life.
“You know what, Jen?” Jared asked, leaning against the counter right next to him. Personal spatial boundaries still held no meaning for him, and Jensen had long since quit his grumbling about it. In fact, many times in recent memory, including now, he felt himself leaning into and resting against Jared’s warmth. It was comfortable and easy. Always so goddamn easy.
“What?”
“If I didn’t already love you, I definitely would after today,” Jared stated quietly. Jensen chuckled at his mock-serious tone, but he still couldn’t suppress the shiver of... something from racing down his spine.
“Yeah, no one can resist my charms, or my desserts, Sasquatch. Live and learn, Jay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just go easy on me, Jen,” he whispered as he leaned in a little closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Jensen’s temple, “...and don’t break my heart, okay?”
And with that, he turned and walked away, both dogs trailing after him, leaving Jensen frozen, his heart racing, and a hot flush rising up his face.
His words, well, that last bit had sounded... serious. Pleading. But they were just words, right? Jared was always spewing forth words. It didn’t have to mean anything. Right?
But that little kiss, that was a different story. Sure, Jared lived fast and loose with his PDAs but, between them, didn’t it mean something more? More playful, more teasing, more... loving? Because it sure felt like it should.
Jensen dried off his hands, and he didn’t even try to stop himself from touching his temple, his fingers tracing the area where Jared’s lips had touched him. Sure, he had kissed Jared in almost the same place back in his trailer, jeez, had that just been yesterday? But this had been different. Because he felt the soft press of that kiss clear down to his toes, so much so that he was shaking and it suddenly felt like every nerve ending in his body had been activated, demanding more. More kisses.
Jensen positively ached for more kisses.
This was so fucked up. What the hell was going on here? Guys don’t kiss each other like that, best friends or not. He had always forestalled his brain from going down this particular avenue of thought, but after today, it was difficult not to, he realized as he turned out all the lights and headed to his room. His hand rested on the banister and he had one foot on the stairs before it occurred to him that he was trailing after Jared. And that just wouldn’t do.
He high-tailed it to the safety of his bedroom and shut the door behind him just in time to hear his phone buzz quietly from where it had sat all day on his bedside table.
Eleven missed calls. Most of them from Danneel, but one from home and another from Mack’s cell. And the message that had just come through was from Danneel as well.
It’s midnight. Guess you did forget. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Love u.
Fuck.
