Forty Years
Title: Forty Years
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 010. Years.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 3,131
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some angst and some smex.
Summary: Filming that scene in Heaven and Hell is difficult for both Jared and Jensen after what they've survived together.
Author's Notes: Timestamp for Forty-Three Days. I just thought of this recently (mostly after watching this video again), and I couldn't decide where to put it at first, but now I think it'll go before the Heaven and Hell scene in the Forty-Three Days extras. Seems to make a little more sense that way. Or I've just screwed everything up. :P
Banner by ala_tariel
Jared wanted to pause, wanted to stop and take a minute before they did this. But he’d already asked Jensen if he was okay enough times, and he knew by the stiff set of Jensen’s shoulders that asking him again could make things difficult. He sat on the hood of the Impala, and he couldn’t decide how he felt about Jensen facing away from him for this. He knew it made sense for Dean, because Dean would never want to admit this to Sam face-to-face. But for Jensen…Jared didn’t know whether to be relieved that he didn’t have to see Jensen suffer through this or worried that he couldn’t see how this was affecting him.
Jared looked around before the scene started. He took a good look at the crew, just people milling about and setting up as they always did. He knew these people, knew how understanding they could be, and wished he could see understanding in their faces right now. He felt irrationally angry at them for not showing the emotion he felt brewing inside of him at just the thought of filming this scene with Jensen. And this wasn’t the first time he wanted to hate the writers for putting Jensen through something like this.
He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because they didn’t know. Nobody knew, and nobody would ever know. Jared was the only one, and it made everything that much more frustrating. He couldn’t even stand up and say, “Alright, let’s take our time with this one guys, okay? Let’s not rush him. You know what he’s been through.” He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t make this easier, and he hated that feeling. It reminded him all too well of the night he found Jensen in the shower. “You can’t save me.” He shook that voice out of his head, forcing himself to focus for the start of the scene, trying not to frown as he clinked his beer bottle together with Jensen’s. He tried to settle himself, feeling the ease of scripted lines wash over him and wondering if it really could be that easy. But as soon as Jensen spoke Dean’s line of “I know you heard him,” Jared couldn’t help the dreadful feeling of this is it, here it comes from twisting his veins and making his heart rush.
“Heard who?” It felt odd to him, that this was the hardest time he’d ever had playing Sam. Not when Sam was going through something terrible, but when Dean was. He waited for Jensen to say his next line, wishing like hell that he could be anywhere else at that moment; that they both could.
“Alistair. What he said. About…how I had promise.”
“I heard him,” Sam admitted, even though Jared didn’t want to.
“You’re not curious?”
No. “Dean, I’m damn curious, but you’re not talking about Hell, and I’m not pushing.”
The silence at that moment was terrible. Jared knew what was coming next. They both did, and the only vibes that Jared could feel coming from Jensen were Dean’s. He’d almost disappeared into the character, and Jared didn’t know whether that was just good acting or a defense mechanism. The silence didn’t last as long as it felt to Jared, but it was long enough for Jared to hope for Jensen to put a stop to the scene and take a breather.
“It wasn’t four months, you know.”
“What?” Jared felt like a lead weight had settled in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if his response came too soon or too slow, having to remind himself that he was acting, here.
“It was four months up here, but…down there…I don’t know, time’s different. It was more like forty years.”
“Oh my God.” Sam’s reaction came easy then. This was one scene they hadn’t rehearsed together, and hearing Jensen say those words almost split him in two. He heard “forty years,” and all he could think was forty-three days, the reality of how close he’d come to losing Jensen hitting him full force for the first time since that last night they’d spent in bed with the laptop, praying for the hits on the website to rise.
“They…They sliced, and carved, and tore me in ways that you…Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly…I would be whole again. Like magic. Just so they could start in all over again.”
Jared sat there on the hood of the Impala feeling ill. He couldn’t see Jensen, couldn’t feel the fear that he knew was underneath Dean’s pain. It had to be affecting Jensen, it just had to. He remembered Jensen talking to him after the Hellhounds were gone. Jensen had told Jared his reasons for attempting suicide, and one of them was that he thought he could really end up in Hell. Jared had tried to reassure him that no one could ever control a person’s afterlife, but Jensen had been terrified. Now here they were, this new script a window into the Hell that Jensen had been so afraid of. There was no way Jensen could be taking this lightly, treating it like it was just another day at work. Jared sure as hell wasn’t. He listened, listened to Dean tell Sam about Alistair and his daily offer. He listened to Dean describe decades of torture that Jared knew felt like real possibilities to Jensen.
“And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines,” Jensen said, infusing the line with such pride that Jared felt it in his heart, so thankful that Jensen was so strong, like Dean. “For thirty years, I told him.”
And that was when Jensen’s voice broke, Jared’s heart breaking with it. He’d known the emotion was coming, but he didn’t know when, didn’t know how Jensen was planning to play this. But it didn’t feel like play anymore, and Jared could already feel his throat growing tighter, tears welling up in his eyes.
“But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off. And I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The…The things I did to them…”
The attempt to collect himself was obvious, but Jared didn’t care. “Dean…” He paused slightly, the way he did when one of his lines slipped his mind, and he had to subtly wrack his brain to remember it. But this wasn’t the same. This was worse. This time, he remembered the line. He just didn’t want to say it, to keep this going. It felt like torture. He somehow found the strength to find his breath and his voice and say the line, but he could find truth in this one, speaking of Dean’s - Jensen’s - strength. “Dean, you held out for thirty years, that’s longer than anyone would’ve.”
There was a moment of silence again, and Jared was looking towards Jensen, resisting the urge to grip him and turn him around. He just wanted to see Jensen’s face. Instead, he saw Jensen’s shoulders and back shake with hitched breaths, heard the sounds of repressed sobs. And that was really so much worse.
“How I feel…this…inside me? I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”
Jared looked away, fighting so hard to keep from sobbing right along with Jensen. His fingers curled into the metal of the Impala, tight, to the point where it was almost painful. He barely felt it with the stirring in his stomach. He knew Jensen had spoken the last line, and even though he didn’t want to, he waited. It felt far too long before the scene was called, and he swung his head around, the motion feeling slurred in some way, as if he’d been drugged with how far down the scene had pulled him. Jensen moved much faster, the hitches and sobs coming harder and quicker now. Jared forced his feet to find the ground and stood up, Jensen already turning away from him and walking off.
“Is he okay?”
Jared turned towards the voice, a little stunned by it. He’d actually managed to forget that there were other people in the room, realizing he’d had tunnel vision when it came to Jensen in this scene. The room opened up to him, cameras and people appearing before him again, and he looked into the face of the director, lined with concern, tears pooling in his eyes. Jared looked around at the rest of the crew, surprised to see everyone there either fighting tears or allowing them to fall freely, their eyes looking to him in sympathy. He felt worse then for being angry at all of them before they’d started filming. They all cared. They just didn’t know. And that wasn’t anybody’s fault.
“He’s fine,” Jared said hoarsely, having no alternative answer for them. “S’just a big scene for him.”
****
Jensen closed the trailer door behind him, shaky hand rubbing over his face, sliding in the wetness there. And he couldn’t stop it. The more he tried to stop crying, the worse it got, his chest hurting with it. He felt like he was on the edge, about to tumble over. It was too much. It was too much, and nobody knew. Not really. There was only Jared, but Jared wasn’t there at the moment.
That was when it hit Jensen. He kept trying to find some bit of sanity, something to keep him from breaking down completely, but it was hard. And when he tried to tell himself that Jared would be there soon, he suddenly wondered what he would do if something like this happened and Jared wasn’t so close by. I can’t do this ran through his head, a desperate voice wrapped up in fear, and he sobbed as he tried to shake it off. It scared him even more, to start thinking that way, but he couldn’t keep the thoughts from entering his mind, picturing himself here alone, no Jared within reach. It felt so lonely, so hopeless, because he could never share what happened with anybody else. He didn’t know what he would do…
“Jensen?” The door opened and closed, and Jensen didn’t need to hear Jared’s voice to know it was him. “Oh, Jensen, I’m so sorry.”
Jensen let his eyes close, let Jared’s arms wrap around him. But he couldn’t find as much comfort in Jared’s touch as he usually did, what if he wasn’t here constantly running through his brain. What would you do? He can’t always be there for you. He can’t hold your hand.
“Jensen, breathe, man,” Jared’s wavering voice pleaded, hands rubbing circles into his back, and Jensen hadn’t realized he’d stopped. “You can’t bottle it up, you gotta just let it go. Don’t try to stop it. You don’t have to. I’m here.”
Jensen bent his head against Jared’s chest, shaking it against the fabric of Jared’s shirt, his fingers twisting in the material around Jared’s back. He’d thought he was past this, getting better. He and Jared had both made so much progress, and now this. He shivered against images of being tortured, torn apart piece by piece in the fires of Hell, blood on his own hands, and he lost his breath again.
“Oh, God,” he choked out between sobs, the effort of speaking through it painful. It could’ve been him. He didn’t know if it was realistic to think that way or not, but he couldn’t help it. Not now. Forty years. Forty years of Hell.
“I know.” Jared kissed the top of his head, rocking him gently back and forth. “I know. It’s alright. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Fuck, I’m so scared,” Jensen admitted, clinging tightly. “I keep picturing it.”
“Jensen, don’t do that to yourself.”
“I can’t help it. And I’m…” He took a deep breath and swallowed. “It scares me, because I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” Jared stiffened in his arms, and Jensen knew what they were both thinking of, hearing the sound of the knife clattering to the bottom of the shower as if it was happening right there in front of him. “Nobody knows,” Jensen continued, resting his head on Jared’s shoulder. He talked it out, but he was shaking less, aware of the shame he felt when he thought of his attempt at suicide. “Without you, I’m…I’m alone. I just…” He felt something pause and then stop, his breathing evening out. “When I first got in here, and you weren’t here, I thought for a minute that I couldn’t handle this.”
“And now?” Jared whispered, still holding him close.
Jensen pulled away. He blinked, looking at Jared, and as quickly as all this had begun, it ended. The whole onslaught of emotions just washed away like a name written in sand, and Jensen took a deep breath, sighing it back out. He felt like a kid who’d just had a nightmare, the terror of being trapped in a world of horrors suddenly giving way to reality. It was that moment where he’d leave his dad’s firm grasp and realize that he was awake now. The monsters weren’t coming to get him. He remembered those times, remembered when they ended, letting his dad leave his bedroom and stubbornly turning off the light and staring down the darkness until he slept again, free of nightmares. He wasn’t that dependent, even as a kid. And he knew that he wasn’t now, Hellhounds be damned.
“Now it’s over,” he said, and it felt so simple, but he saw the relief in Jared’s stance. He felt his tears drying on his face, his hands held steady. “There’s really nothing to be afraid of anymore. There’s nothing to tell anybody, is there?”
“No,” Jared said, the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly, eyes red and wet. “It happened. It’s done.” Jensen stepped forward and put a hand on Jared’s shoulder.
“If you weren’t here,” he said, working it out in his head but knowing it to be true. “I’d probably be a shaking, sobbing mess on the floor, at first. I’d probably freak myself out and feel lost for just a second.” He grabbed Jared’s other shoulder and looked him in the eye. “But not like before. Nothing like it. I just got scared, but if it came down to it, that fear wouldn’t be enough. I’d think of everything I fought to get back, my family, you…I wouldn’t…”
“I know you wouldn’t, Jensen.” Jared wrapped his arms around him again, resting their foreheads together. “I’ll admit I was worried about you, but…I know you. I know you would never try to hurt yourself again.”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen groaned, letting his head fall to Jared’s shoulder again. “I feel so stupid now.”
“Don’t,” Jared nudged Jensen off of him, hands cupping his face, and smiled. “I knew this was gonna be hard. Figured you did, too, and that was why you didn’t wanna talk about it.”
“Thought the scene’d be better if it wasn’t too rehearsed,” Jensen muttered, but he knew how he felt when he first read this script. He’d tried to deny it, but there was no question that it had opened up some old wounds. “Guess I was scared of it, too.”
“Yeah, but you still faced it,” Jared said, hands moving down to Jensen’s arms. “Before or after, it doesn’t matter. And you didn’t really need me. You talked yourself through it. I barely said a word.”
“The hug helped,” Jensen said, smiling, and Jared laughed quietly, moving their bodies closer.
“You’re doin’ just fine. With or without me here.”
Jensen pushed a hand up into Jared’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, soft press of lips and sweet roll of tongues. Jared’s hands held him at the dip in his lower back, and Jensen reached his right hand back for Jared’s, pulling it around to his front, his belt, and down.
“What’s this?” Jared laughed, breaking the kiss.
“Hell of a day,” Jensen said, feeling drained from the angst of it all, but still looking for a little something more, something good. Jared looked at him, smile fading as he kissed him again and squeezed gently at his crotch.
“Let me make you feel better.”
Heat rose in Jensen’s body as Jared’s fingers worked his jeans open, right hand reaching in and pulling him out. Jensen gasped and bucked, lips seeking out Jared’s neck and pressing sloppy kisses there. He leaned into Jared’s body, Jared taking the extra weight and slowly stroking over his dick, bringing him to full hardness. Jensen moaned and thrust into the ring of Jared’s fingers, against his palm, tongue swirling patterns on Jared’s neck as Jared started rubbing his back, up under his jacket and shirt.
“I love you,” Jensen groaned, Jared tightening his grip and pulling harder. Jensen hummed and lifted his head for a kiss, Jared licking and nipping at his lips. Jensen fumbled between them, Jared still stroking him as he freed Jared from his jeans and boxers, hard length twitching in Jensen’s palm. The angle was awkward, hands, wrists and arms bumping, disturbing the rhythm, and they laughed together as they managed to slowly bring each other closer.
“I love you, too,” Jared gasped, breathing harder. “Fuck, Jensen…”
“Yeah.” Jensen smirked, and then his mouth fell open, hips stuttering. “Oh, God, Jared…Jay…I’m…” He whimpered, his free hand gripping Jared’s shoulder. He tried to tell himself to stop, to pull away, finish another way or after taking some of the Winchesters’ clothes off, but he couldn’t. “I’m…”
“I know,” Jared grunted, fucking into Jensen’s tight grip. “I know, it’s alright. Fuck it, just don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Jensen.”
“Shit.” Jensen tensed, fingers curling into Jared’s shoulder, trying to keep the same pace and pressure working Jared with his other hand. He felt his balls drawing up, heat expanding in his body. He threw his head back, moaning and welcoming the orgasm that shuddered through him, closing his eyes as he came in Jared’s hand. Jared still gripped Jensen’s dick while his other arm wrapped around him, voice loud in Jensen’s ear as he shook and came just after. They rested against each other, panting and seeking out each other’s lips, quick presses gradually becoming long, languid kisses that lasted long after they’d let each other go, soft now. “You gotta help me with this,” Jensen said eventually, grinning against Jared’s lips. Jared looked confused for a second, then looked down between them, at the mess on Sam and Dean’s clothes.
“Hey,” Jared said, smiling, “We saved you from fuckin’ Hellhounds. There’s no reason we can’t find a way outta this.”
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 010. Years.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 3,131
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some angst and some smex.
Summary: Filming that scene in Heaven and Hell is difficult for both Jared and Jensen after what they've survived together.
Author's Notes: Timestamp for Forty-Three Days. I just thought of this recently (mostly after watching this video again), and I couldn't decide where to put it at first, but now I think it'll go before the Heaven and Hell scene in the Forty-Three Days extras. Seems to make a little more sense that way. Or I've just screwed everything up. :P
Banner by ala_tariel
Jared wanted to pause, wanted to stop and take a minute before they did this. But he’d already asked Jensen if he was okay enough times, and he knew by the stiff set of Jensen’s shoulders that asking him again could make things difficult. He sat on the hood of the Impala, and he couldn’t decide how he felt about Jensen facing away from him for this. He knew it made sense for Dean, because Dean would never want to admit this to Sam face-to-face. But for Jensen…Jared didn’t know whether to be relieved that he didn’t have to see Jensen suffer through this or worried that he couldn’t see how this was affecting him.
Jared looked around before the scene started. He took a good look at the crew, just people milling about and setting up as they always did. He knew these people, knew how understanding they could be, and wished he could see understanding in their faces right now. He felt irrationally angry at them for not showing the emotion he felt brewing inside of him at just the thought of filming this scene with Jensen. And this wasn’t the first time he wanted to hate the writers for putting Jensen through something like this.
He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because they didn’t know. Nobody knew, and nobody would ever know. Jared was the only one, and it made everything that much more frustrating. He couldn’t even stand up and say, “Alright, let’s take our time with this one guys, okay? Let’s not rush him. You know what he’s been through.” He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t make this easier, and he hated that feeling. It reminded him all too well of the night he found Jensen in the shower. “You can’t save me.” He shook that voice out of his head, forcing himself to focus for the start of the scene, trying not to frown as he clinked his beer bottle together with Jensen’s. He tried to settle himself, feeling the ease of scripted lines wash over him and wondering if it really could be that easy. But as soon as Jensen spoke Dean’s line of “I know you heard him,” Jared couldn’t help the dreadful feeling of this is it, here it comes from twisting his veins and making his heart rush.
“Heard who?” It felt odd to him, that this was the hardest time he’d ever had playing Sam. Not when Sam was going through something terrible, but when Dean was. He waited for Jensen to say his next line, wishing like hell that he could be anywhere else at that moment; that they both could.
“Alistair. What he said. About…how I had promise.”
“I heard him,” Sam admitted, even though Jared didn’t want to.
“You’re not curious?”
No. “Dean, I’m damn curious, but you’re not talking about Hell, and I’m not pushing.”
The silence at that moment was terrible. Jared knew what was coming next. They both did, and the only vibes that Jared could feel coming from Jensen were Dean’s. He’d almost disappeared into the character, and Jared didn’t know whether that was just good acting or a defense mechanism. The silence didn’t last as long as it felt to Jared, but it was long enough for Jared to hope for Jensen to put a stop to the scene and take a breather.
“It wasn’t four months, you know.”
“What?” Jared felt like a lead weight had settled in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if his response came too soon or too slow, having to remind himself that he was acting, here.
“It was four months up here, but…down there…I don’t know, time’s different. It was more like forty years.”
“Oh my God.” Sam’s reaction came easy then. This was one scene they hadn’t rehearsed together, and hearing Jensen say those words almost split him in two. He heard “forty years,” and all he could think was forty-three days, the reality of how close he’d come to losing Jensen hitting him full force for the first time since that last night they’d spent in bed with the laptop, praying for the hits on the website to rise.
“They…They sliced, and carved, and tore me in ways that you…Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly…I would be whole again. Like magic. Just so they could start in all over again.”
Jared sat there on the hood of the Impala feeling ill. He couldn’t see Jensen, couldn’t feel the fear that he knew was underneath Dean’s pain. It had to be affecting Jensen, it just had to. He remembered Jensen talking to him after the Hellhounds were gone. Jensen had told Jared his reasons for attempting suicide, and one of them was that he thought he could really end up in Hell. Jared had tried to reassure him that no one could ever control a person’s afterlife, but Jensen had been terrified. Now here they were, this new script a window into the Hell that Jensen had been so afraid of. There was no way Jensen could be taking this lightly, treating it like it was just another day at work. Jared sure as hell wasn’t. He listened, listened to Dean tell Sam about Alistair and his daily offer. He listened to Dean describe decades of torture that Jared knew felt like real possibilities to Jensen.
“And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines,” Jensen said, infusing the line with such pride that Jared felt it in his heart, so thankful that Jensen was so strong, like Dean. “For thirty years, I told him.”
And that was when Jensen’s voice broke, Jared’s heart breaking with it. He’d known the emotion was coming, but he didn’t know when, didn’t know how Jensen was planning to play this. But it didn’t feel like play anymore, and Jared could already feel his throat growing tighter, tears welling up in his eyes.
“But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off. And I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The…The things I did to them…”
The attempt to collect himself was obvious, but Jared didn’t care. “Dean…” He paused slightly, the way he did when one of his lines slipped his mind, and he had to subtly wrack his brain to remember it. But this wasn’t the same. This was worse. This time, he remembered the line. He just didn’t want to say it, to keep this going. It felt like torture. He somehow found the strength to find his breath and his voice and say the line, but he could find truth in this one, speaking of Dean’s - Jensen’s - strength. “Dean, you held out for thirty years, that’s longer than anyone would’ve.”
There was a moment of silence again, and Jared was looking towards Jensen, resisting the urge to grip him and turn him around. He just wanted to see Jensen’s face. Instead, he saw Jensen’s shoulders and back shake with hitched breaths, heard the sounds of repressed sobs. And that was really so much worse.
“How I feel…this…inside me? I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”
Jared looked away, fighting so hard to keep from sobbing right along with Jensen. His fingers curled into the metal of the Impala, tight, to the point where it was almost painful. He barely felt it with the stirring in his stomach. He knew Jensen had spoken the last line, and even though he didn’t want to, he waited. It felt far too long before the scene was called, and he swung his head around, the motion feeling slurred in some way, as if he’d been drugged with how far down the scene had pulled him. Jensen moved much faster, the hitches and sobs coming harder and quicker now. Jared forced his feet to find the ground and stood up, Jensen already turning away from him and walking off.
“Is he okay?”
Jared turned towards the voice, a little stunned by it. He’d actually managed to forget that there were other people in the room, realizing he’d had tunnel vision when it came to Jensen in this scene. The room opened up to him, cameras and people appearing before him again, and he looked into the face of the director, lined with concern, tears pooling in his eyes. Jared looked around at the rest of the crew, surprised to see everyone there either fighting tears or allowing them to fall freely, their eyes looking to him in sympathy. He felt worse then for being angry at all of them before they’d started filming. They all cared. They just didn’t know. And that wasn’t anybody’s fault.
“He’s fine,” Jared said hoarsely, having no alternative answer for them. “S’just a big scene for him.”
****
Jensen closed the trailer door behind him, shaky hand rubbing over his face, sliding in the wetness there. And he couldn’t stop it. The more he tried to stop crying, the worse it got, his chest hurting with it. He felt like he was on the edge, about to tumble over. It was too much. It was too much, and nobody knew. Not really. There was only Jared, but Jared wasn’t there at the moment.
That was when it hit Jensen. He kept trying to find some bit of sanity, something to keep him from breaking down completely, but it was hard. And when he tried to tell himself that Jared would be there soon, he suddenly wondered what he would do if something like this happened and Jared wasn’t so close by. I can’t do this ran through his head, a desperate voice wrapped up in fear, and he sobbed as he tried to shake it off. It scared him even more, to start thinking that way, but he couldn’t keep the thoughts from entering his mind, picturing himself here alone, no Jared within reach. It felt so lonely, so hopeless, because he could never share what happened with anybody else. He didn’t know what he would do…
“Jensen?” The door opened and closed, and Jensen didn’t need to hear Jared’s voice to know it was him. “Oh, Jensen, I’m so sorry.”
Jensen let his eyes close, let Jared’s arms wrap around him. But he couldn’t find as much comfort in Jared’s touch as he usually did, what if he wasn’t here constantly running through his brain. What would you do? He can’t always be there for you. He can’t hold your hand.
“Jensen, breathe, man,” Jared’s wavering voice pleaded, hands rubbing circles into his back, and Jensen hadn’t realized he’d stopped. “You can’t bottle it up, you gotta just let it go. Don’t try to stop it. You don’t have to. I’m here.”
Jensen bent his head against Jared’s chest, shaking it against the fabric of Jared’s shirt, his fingers twisting in the material around Jared’s back. He’d thought he was past this, getting better. He and Jared had both made so much progress, and now this. He shivered against images of being tortured, torn apart piece by piece in the fires of Hell, blood on his own hands, and he lost his breath again.
“Oh, God,” he choked out between sobs, the effort of speaking through it painful. It could’ve been him. He didn’t know if it was realistic to think that way or not, but he couldn’t help it. Not now. Forty years. Forty years of Hell.
“I know.” Jared kissed the top of his head, rocking him gently back and forth. “I know. It’s alright. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Fuck, I’m so scared,” Jensen admitted, clinging tightly. “I keep picturing it.”
“Jensen, don’t do that to yourself.”
“I can’t help it. And I’m…” He took a deep breath and swallowed. “It scares me, because I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” Jared stiffened in his arms, and Jensen knew what they were both thinking of, hearing the sound of the knife clattering to the bottom of the shower as if it was happening right there in front of him. “Nobody knows,” Jensen continued, resting his head on Jared’s shoulder. He talked it out, but he was shaking less, aware of the shame he felt when he thought of his attempt at suicide. “Without you, I’m…I’m alone. I just…” He felt something pause and then stop, his breathing evening out. “When I first got in here, and you weren’t here, I thought for a minute that I couldn’t handle this.”
“And now?” Jared whispered, still holding him close.
Jensen pulled away. He blinked, looking at Jared, and as quickly as all this had begun, it ended. The whole onslaught of emotions just washed away like a name written in sand, and Jensen took a deep breath, sighing it back out. He felt like a kid who’d just had a nightmare, the terror of being trapped in a world of horrors suddenly giving way to reality. It was that moment where he’d leave his dad’s firm grasp and realize that he was awake now. The monsters weren’t coming to get him. He remembered those times, remembered when they ended, letting his dad leave his bedroom and stubbornly turning off the light and staring down the darkness until he slept again, free of nightmares. He wasn’t that dependent, even as a kid. And he knew that he wasn’t now, Hellhounds be damned.
“Now it’s over,” he said, and it felt so simple, but he saw the relief in Jared’s stance. He felt his tears drying on his face, his hands held steady. “There’s really nothing to be afraid of anymore. There’s nothing to tell anybody, is there?”
“No,” Jared said, the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly, eyes red and wet. “It happened. It’s done.” Jensen stepped forward and put a hand on Jared’s shoulder.
“If you weren’t here,” he said, working it out in his head but knowing it to be true. “I’d probably be a shaking, sobbing mess on the floor, at first. I’d probably freak myself out and feel lost for just a second.” He grabbed Jared’s other shoulder and looked him in the eye. “But not like before. Nothing like it. I just got scared, but if it came down to it, that fear wouldn’t be enough. I’d think of everything I fought to get back, my family, you…I wouldn’t…”
“I know you wouldn’t, Jensen.” Jared wrapped his arms around him again, resting their foreheads together. “I’ll admit I was worried about you, but…I know you. I know you would never try to hurt yourself again.”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen groaned, letting his head fall to Jared’s shoulder again. “I feel so stupid now.”
“Don’t,” Jared nudged Jensen off of him, hands cupping his face, and smiled. “I knew this was gonna be hard. Figured you did, too, and that was why you didn’t wanna talk about it.”
“Thought the scene’d be better if it wasn’t too rehearsed,” Jensen muttered, but he knew how he felt when he first read this script. He’d tried to deny it, but there was no question that it had opened up some old wounds. “Guess I was scared of it, too.”
“Yeah, but you still faced it,” Jared said, hands moving down to Jensen’s arms. “Before or after, it doesn’t matter. And you didn’t really need me. You talked yourself through it. I barely said a word.”
“The hug helped,” Jensen said, smiling, and Jared laughed quietly, moving their bodies closer.
“You’re doin’ just fine. With or without me here.”
Jensen pushed a hand up into Jared’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, soft press of lips and sweet roll of tongues. Jared’s hands held him at the dip in his lower back, and Jensen reached his right hand back for Jared’s, pulling it around to his front, his belt, and down.
“What’s this?” Jared laughed, breaking the kiss.
“Hell of a day,” Jensen said, feeling drained from the angst of it all, but still looking for a little something more, something good. Jared looked at him, smile fading as he kissed him again and squeezed gently at his crotch.
“Let me make you feel better.”
Heat rose in Jensen’s body as Jared’s fingers worked his jeans open, right hand reaching in and pulling him out. Jensen gasped and bucked, lips seeking out Jared’s neck and pressing sloppy kisses there. He leaned into Jared’s body, Jared taking the extra weight and slowly stroking over his dick, bringing him to full hardness. Jensen moaned and thrust into the ring of Jared’s fingers, against his palm, tongue swirling patterns on Jared’s neck as Jared started rubbing his back, up under his jacket and shirt.
“I love you,” Jensen groaned, Jared tightening his grip and pulling harder. Jensen hummed and lifted his head for a kiss, Jared licking and nipping at his lips. Jensen fumbled between them, Jared still stroking him as he freed Jared from his jeans and boxers, hard length twitching in Jensen’s palm. The angle was awkward, hands, wrists and arms bumping, disturbing the rhythm, and they laughed together as they managed to slowly bring each other closer.
“I love you, too,” Jared gasped, breathing harder. “Fuck, Jensen…”
“Yeah.” Jensen smirked, and then his mouth fell open, hips stuttering. “Oh, God, Jared…Jay…I’m…” He whimpered, his free hand gripping Jared’s shoulder. He tried to tell himself to stop, to pull away, finish another way or after taking some of the Winchesters’ clothes off, but he couldn’t. “I’m…”
“I know,” Jared grunted, fucking into Jensen’s tight grip. “I know, it’s alright. Fuck it, just don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Jensen.”
“Shit.” Jensen tensed, fingers curling into Jared’s shoulder, trying to keep the same pace and pressure working Jared with his other hand. He felt his balls drawing up, heat expanding in his body. He threw his head back, moaning and welcoming the orgasm that shuddered through him, closing his eyes as he came in Jared’s hand. Jared still gripped Jensen’s dick while his other arm wrapped around him, voice loud in Jensen’s ear as he shook and came just after. They rested against each other, panting and seeking out each other’s lips, quick presses gradually becoming long, languid kisses that lasted long after they’d let each other go, soft now. “You gotta help me with this,” Jensen said eventually, grinning against Jared’s lips. Jared looked confused for a second, then looked down between them, at the mess on Sam and Dean’s clothes.
“Hey,” Jared said, smiling, “We saved you from fuckin’ Hellhounds. There’s no reason we can’t find a way outta this.”