Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The next two days, they don’t discuss it, as if they only have so much energy set aside for this and now they have to take a break. But Jensen thinks about it a lot: what he wants out of this date, where they should go, what they should do. He tries to keep in mind that this isn’t all that different from going out to eat with Jared like they always do, or catching a flick or a game, going to a bar for drinks. But the whole point is that it is different. It’s a date. Like, a date date. And… all that a date entails.

One day, Jensen’s going to grow up and just say words like ‘sex’ and ‘kissing’ and ‘making out’. Today, he’s happy to hide behind his trusty euphemisms.

Jared’s hot. Jensen can admit when another good-looking guy walks by, and even if he couldn’t, his own fandom would chew him out for even suggesting that Jared isn’t sexy. He knows Jared’s an attractive man. He’s muscled, he’s healthy, he’s friendly and handsome and generally happy, and he makes it a point to concern himself with the people he cares about. All attractive qualities.

There’s just this weird roadblock when Jensen gets to the part about Jared and nudity. He can picture it. Duh, they change in front of each other in costuming nearly every day, and they’re both guys so shirts are more of a suggestion on a daily basis. His brain just sort of short-circuits the second he thinks about Jared naked around him, with intent to be naked around him, for the purpose of getting Jensen just as naked as him so they can be naked together.

Maybe he’s taking this a little too fast. They haven’t even kissed yet. That’s usually step one in Jensen’s book. Sometimes you kiss someone and it just doesn’t click, and then the rest isn’t such a big deal anymore.

In the end, Jensen forgoes the analysis and decides on the practical matters. For this date, he wants dinner and a little bit of booze. He doesn’t want to sit in a theater not interacting with Jared, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be any good at handholding or whatever unless he can do it under a table the first time, so going to a game is out. Looks like he’ll be the one asking, then.

**

“So.” He’s drying a plate, gripping it carefully with both hands and watching to make sure Jared isn’t holding anything breakable. Just in case. “You want to try dinner this Saturday?”

Saturday, because Friday they will be totally wiped out and unable to say more than ‘Uh buhhhhhh’ to each other. Saturday is also followed by Sunday, which means there’s nothing pressing they need to stress over.

Jared’s hands go still in the soapy water, just for a second. “Sure, what time were you thinking?”

“Uh, seven? Thereabouts?”

Jared glances over quickly. “Sounds good. Where are we going?”

“The King and I.” Thai is Jensen’s comfort food at the moment and he really wants to be comfortable.

Jared grins. “Mm, love that place. Yeah, okay.”

And that’s that.

**

It does occur to Jensen that he might be spending Sunday in his room pitching a spaz when this goes spectacularly belly up, but he’s ignoring that at the moment.

**

On Saturday evening, he chooses cinder-grey pants and a white button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He knows he’ll just be rolling them up anyway as the night progresses; he never can eat in a restaurant without worrying about dipping his sleeves into the food on his plate.

Jared’s waiting by the back door, hands shoved in his pockets, looking out into the yard. He’s wearing burgundy over black trousers, and the red of his sweater makes his skin glow.

“Hey.” Jensen clears his throat. “Ready to go?”

Jared’s eyes linger on Jensen when he first turns his head, his body following slowly. “Yep.” He comes across the room, picking up his jacket from the back of the couch. “Am I driving?”

Jensen nods, patting his pockets to make sure he’s got his wallet, also to make sure he doesn’t stare at Jared’s throat where it vanishes under the neckline of his sweater. Jared makes a puzzled noise.

“Hey, what happened to your car keys anyway?”

Jensen nearly chokes. He coughs to cover it up and grabs his coat from the rack. “Uh, they’re around here somewhere. You don’t mind driving, do you?”

Jared shrugs. “Nope.”

Jensen tries to find a casual way to ask if Jared has emptied the dogs’ poop bucket into the main trash can lately and can’t think of a thing. Damn it, he’d forgotten about that little detail. He’d almost rather forget the whole thing and pay for new ones.

Jared follows him out the front door and locks up behind them. The evening is clear and cool, and there’s the scent of summer building. Jensen loves summer, especially here where it’s not blistering. In a few months, it’ll actually be summer, and that means hiatus, and whoa, Jensen doesn’t want to think about that future stuff and how tonight could affect all that in bizarre ways.

Just tonight. That’s plenty for now.

The drive is pretty laid back, with Jared tapping his fingers to some song in his head. Jensen would worry that it meant Jared was nervous, but Jared’s actually humming the song, too. Jensen thinks it’s Cream, but this is Jared so he will never be exactly sure. Until, that is, Jared gets to the chorus and Jensen takes a risk, singing “in the sunshine of your love” out loud.

Jared looks over and grins at him.

The restaurant is pretty crowded but Jensen reserved a spot. He gives his name and follows the hostess to a table along the bank of windows to their left, Jared close behind him. No one pulls out anyone else’s chair; they just take their seats across from each other like they always do. Jared asks for sodas and smiles at the hostess as she leaves.

Jensen wants to tell Jared that he looks good, but if Jared’s a few steps behind him in this whole process, then Jensen doesn’t want to overload him. It’s just that Jared’s eyes keep flicking back to Jensen’s shirt, somewhere around his shoulders, he thinks.

Well. If Jared wants to make the first move in that department, then Jensen’s happy to let him.

Jared picks up his menu instead. “What are you getting?”

Jensen’s known from the instant he chose the restaurant that he’s ordering their Pad Thai. It’s fantastic. He points it out to Jared on the menu and Jared screws up his face a little before picking the entrée right below that, which turns out to be Massaman curry.

So Jensen’s going to be stealing some of that.

When the waiter brings their drinks, Jensen orders, ending it off with the addition of coconut milk soup and plates of satay skewers and spring rolls.

“Oh, you know, could I have a Thai iced tea, please?” Jared asks at the very end.

Jensen waits till their server departs before smirking at him. “Yeah, ew.”

Jared sniffs. “Just because you have no taste buds to speak of.”

“Actually, I do, because I can taste how disgusting that stuff is.” Jensen grins. “You should really get that looked at.”

Jared laughs, and just like that, it feels alright. It’s tense, sure, but were they really thinking it wouldn’t be? It’s nothing they can’t work around. Jensen knows this guy, he knows what interests him and how to make him laugh, which is more than he can say for most dates he’s been on. And Jared knows him. This won’t completely explode in their faces. Jensen has to remember that.

**

Jared’s curry is damn good. Jensen manages to procure half of it, but that’s only fair because Jared takes a Jared-sized bite of his Pad Thai when he’s distracted. They order mango with sticky rice for dessert and, oh god, Jensen’s going to have to learn the particulars of making this. Especially when it puts that look on Jared’s face.

The conversation is so incredibly normal that Jensen’s nerves are long gone, until it becomes apparent that he’s unwilling to leave the restaurant. A cup of coffee with dessert, sure, but three? He’s never going to sleep tonight at this rate, and that notion sets off a whole army of warning bells in his brain. They sound a lot like ‘do not go any further with that thought process or innuendo or whatever it is because the result will leave you fucking shredded, either by laughter or dizziness, you hear?’ It’s a catchy tune.

He notices that Jared is drawing out their stay as well and wonders about the state of his nerves.

Eventually, Jensen’s manners get the better of him: if he were working tables at a nice restaurant, he would be pissed off by customers who refuse to get the hell out. He sets his empty water glass near the middle of the table and clears his throat. “Think they’re closing.”

Jared glances around the room and straightens up from where he’s slouched in his chair. “Shit. Yeah, we should…”

Jensen gets out his wallet.

“Oh, hey,” Jared says. He half-reaches for Jensen’s hand and they hover in place, staring at each other. “I can pay for this.”

Jensen makes an effort to shrug nonchalantly, and isn’t that an oxymoron. “Nah, I asked you. I’ll pay.”

Jared purses his lips. “Actually, I think I asked you. Technically speaking.”

He’s right. But that wasn’t really specific, and Jensen made all the decisions this time. “It’s fine, Jare. I got this one. Next time, it’s all yours.”

Jared catches his eye and holds it. Jensen swallows. He’s aware of what he said, and he means it, whether next time is a buddy thing or another actual date. Hell, he’ll pay again next time if it comes to that. He’ll pay for Jared’s food any day.

Of course, if Jensen actually admits that out loud, his entire paycheck will forever go toward filling Jared’s bottomless pit of a stomach. Jensen’s no fool.

Jensen pays and when the card receipt comes back, he tips generously. He looks up to find Jared standing, holding Jensen’s coat. He hands it over with a smile. In this light, warm from all the gold in the restaurant’s décor, Jared’s eyes hit that perfect hazel they sometimes get when it mists on set and the sun is still out. Jensen lets himself look. His insides tumble lazily, achy and soft and just this side of comfortable. God, what Jared does to him.

Jared’s face smooths, and he draws a slow, steady breath. Jensen’s nerves return full-force.

The drive home is silent. Jensen can feel the tension packing further into the car with each mile. They’re that much closer to finding out exactly how this is going to end, and Jensen’s not ready for it. He doesn’t want an end, and suddenly he’s convinced it will be a bad one. It might even end them, much more viciously than any one-sided confession of love could have done. Jensen’s going to push his best friend right over the edge into something else and destroy everything.

He reminds himself that he’s not on this date alone. Jared asked for this, to give this a try. Jared wants to be here with him, regardless of whatever else he might want. There’s no pressure on him that isn’t also on Jared.

And he really needs to calm down or he’s going to have an aneurism right here in the car and scare Jared half to death.

He looks over and finds Jared chewing his lower lip. Now, Jensen’s reaction to pressure has always intrigued him. If there’s no one to panic, he’s right there to step it up and fill the post with flailing and useless ranting about how they’re all going to die. Maybe he doesn’t always do it vocally, but it’s there inside. However, if someone else is panicking, it’s like Jensen’s body locks down into protection mode. He goes completely sober and clear-headed, ready to deal with the problems his companion can’t handle.

Right now, Jared’s visibly nervous, and a sense of calm sweeps over Jensen with shivery speed.

“Hey, Jare?”

Jared startles and looks at him before turning back to the road. “Yeah.”

Jensen reaches over and pats Jared’s leg. He doesn’t even think about it, just does it, like he always used to. “I had a good time tonight.”

Jared smiles, a real smile. Jensen can practically see the tension dripping out of him. “Good. Me too, man.”

Jensen nods. He looks out at the road ahead, cut by the stream of Jared’s headlights. He knows he could just keep silent, but this is something he needs to say, because this isn’t some random first date with a person he clicks with. This is Jared. Jared deserves his best effort. “Whatever else happens, I’m glad we did this, Jared. Alright?”

Jared blinks a couple times. He reaches over and rubs Jensen’s shoulder with one warm hand.

**

They receive a sleepy version of the doggy greeting when they get in the front door, and then Sadie and Harley pad off to wherever they came from. Jensen shrugs out of his coat and hangs it up, relieved that he doesn’t drop it in the end; his hands are shaking.

If they are going to go with the old classic, he certainly doesn’t want to do it out on the front porch. He’s pretty sure they’re both going to need time to adjust afterward without the benefit of nosy neighbors.

“You want a drink?” Jared offers, motioning toward the kitchen. Jensen’s throat is a little dry, to say the least. He nods and follows Jared as far as the doorway, then backs out of it as Jared returns with two glasses of water. Jensen’s absurdly glad it’s not alcohol, and that Jared didn’t even ask; the temptation to dull his nerves is too strong at the moment.

Oddly enough, Jared downs his water like he’s downing a shot. Jensen takes his time if only to keep from choking. Oh, he is so not ready for this, he’s never going to be ready for this. In four minutes or four years, it will still belt him right in the gut.

Jared sets his glass down. His fingers linger on the rim for a second before he straightens up. Jensen finishes his own and clears his throat, placing his glass beside Jared’s on the coffee table. Alright, he’s going to have to look at Jared in the near future, he really is. What the hell is wrong with him?

He sees it when Jared shoves both hands into his pockets and then immediately pulls them out again. Jared’s right thumb taps an uneven beat against the outside of his thigh.

“Jen, I think…”

Jensen makes himself raise his head. Jared meets his eyes. They’re only a few feet apart. Jared finally lifts a hand and loops his fingers very lightly around Jensen’s wrist. Draws him closer. Jensen has one last second to freak out because what if it doesn’t work, fuck, what if it’s too strange?

It is strange.

Jared’s lips are a little chapped, but warm. A mouth Jensen recognizes at the same time as he doesn’t. Definitely Jared, though: he smells the same, same hair product, same cologne that Jensen has always associated with the house and Jared’s clothing and the dogs. His closest friend.

He makes inappropriate jokes with this guy— this guy, and Jensen knows part of this is that he’s never kissed a guy before, but suddenly, weirdly, it feels like he is indeed kissing Chris Kane, best friend, and that’s just—

Jensen falters.

Jared’s mouth follows his for the pounding of a heartbeat. Jensen’s thoughts clamp down and Jared pulls away.

It’s gone all wrong, with Jared, this kiss that was supposed to be perfect, only it’s so damn far from that. They’ve fucked it up, he’s fucked it up; he had this chance to get what he wanted, the person he’s head over heels for, and he just—

It’s the lightning flare of loss, disappointment sharp as steel that has Jensen reversing their grip and pulling Jared back in.

Jensen kisses him, really kisses him. For the sake of the kiss, not because of an expectation. Because it’s Jared and Jensen wants to kiss Jared. However confusing the rest of it is, he’s absolutely sure this time about wanting to kiss Jared.

And this time… This is nothing like kissing a friend. Vertigo tugs at Jensen’s mind as Jared’s mouth opens and the kiss sails right off the edge and down. Deep.

Jensen remembers to breathe just as Jared’s arms close around him. It’s the sudden, shaky momentum of instinct, and Jensen finds he’s already clenched fistfuls of Jared’s shirt in both hands. Jared seeks him out and drowns him again, tongue and lips and a little bit of teeth, and it’s all so, so good. This is a kiss. This, right here, is precisely why Jensen loves kissing. The shape of it, the shock right down to the base of his spine, the breathless tug on his lungs, the sense that he’s not getting it all, never getting it all, fuck, he just wants to go deeper and keep right on going until he gets every piece of it, every little bit of Jared that he can. Jensen inhales through his nose, tilts Jared’s face in his hands, and he can taste mango and coffee and jasmine rice, and god, Jared is a good kisser, fuck.

Jensen likes the taste on Jared’s tongue, he likes the way his mouth fits with Jared’s, and it hardly matters that he’s kissing another man because it just works and that’s all there is to it. The second he stops fighting that, it gets a million times more intimate. Jensen’s a fast learner, always has been, but it’s the intimacy that gets him again and again with each touch of their lips, each breath hastily drawn. He thinks he might know Jared better than anyone else he’s kissed, especially on a first date, and this isn’t even like that because they’re so much further than a first date. But he didn’t know this about Jared. He didn’t know Jared could kiss like he was born doing it, like he knows exactly what makes Jensen tick. He probably does, and Jensen hopes he’s giving Jared half of what Jared’s giving him because if he isn’t, it’s a fucking travesty and Jared needs to go away and find the person who truly deserves him and all his skills, except, no, Jensen’s not okay with that idea at all, come to think of it. He pulls Jared in, a hand curled at his nape, the other hooked at Jared’s hip, he smells Jared’s cologne and wants Jared’s tongue to just stay right where it is in his mouth, because Jensen? Jensen can kiss Jared for the rest of their damn lives, he’s absolutely certain he’s got the stamina to make that happen.

Jared utters something, Jensen’s fucking name on the back of a little gasp, licking at Jensen’s mouth, and fuck, maybe Jensen’s got less stamina than he thought because he’s feeling a little unsteady on his feet. God, he’d just like to get Jared onto the couch and keep on keepin’ on. He hasn’t been this buzzed in a long, long time by another person’s taste and touch. He wants to feel what Jared feels like all over, see if the skin on his shoulders is as soft as the skin of his face and throat, and kiss him until Jared forgets either of them was ever nervous about this. Jared’s got a grip on him like Jensen can’t believe, body pressed all along his front, fingers against Jensen’s throat, thumb stroking beneath his chin, Jared’s hair is soft when Jensen slides his fingers up into it and wait, no, no, no, back the truck right the hell up, this isn’t going to happen this way.

He can feel the way Jared’s clutching onto him, hear the urgency in the sounds Jared’s making against his lips. Ending this feels like the exact opposite of what Jensen needs at this precise second, but there is no way in hell he’s letting this slide into a frantic one night stand only to find Jared unable to meet his eyes in the morning.

There’s no question in his mind that he wants to get Jared naked now, and that only makes it more difficult to push Jared out of the kiss.

Jared noses back into it once, twice, and Jensen lets go, follows him in and kisses Jared again until he nearly forgets why they should stop. He wants to climb right up Jared’s body, but it doesn’t change the reasoning from before. He bumps his nose with Jared’s as he pulls back and something strikes hard inside him, how perfect that tiny, insignificant nudge is. How intimate. God.

“Think we should stop,” he breathes into the space between their mouths, which isn’t all that wide.

Jared might be nodding. He might just be breathing heavily. Jensen fists Jared’s shirt just below his ribs and holds on.

“You okay?” he manages. “Jared?”

Jared’s eyes slip right past his as he leans back, and Jensen wishes he could see exactly what’s in them. He’s pretty sure Jared’s thinking about where this could go; they’re still pressed together all along their fronts, all the more noticeable because their breathing is out of sync. Jared’s shaking, just a little. Jensen feels an uncomfortable tug above the nape of his neck and realizes that Jared is gripping his hair.

“I’m not sure.” It’s barely a sentence. Jared’s voice rumbles unsteadily. He still hasn’t looked up. Jensen wants to kiss him again. But he wants them more than he wants that kiss. He’s not fucking this up, not with Jared.

Jared finally raises his head, and Jensen looks into his eyes and sees the un-tempered heat in them as well as the shock. He hopes Jared is shocked at the strength of his own reaction rather than at his reasons for kissing his best friend. Jared blinks. His fingers go slack against Jensen’s scalp.

“I’m…”

Jensen cups Jared’s face. “Don’t want to rush.” He doesn’t want whatever follows to be frenzied. He wants Jared to be sure, not tumbled sideways in a river of heat.

Jared nods. His hand slides down to grasp Jensen’s nape. He nods again. “Yeah.”

“Jared, are you—” Damn it, why can’t he leave well enough alone? Jensen tries to ignore his own semi-question but he really wants to know that Jared’s okay with the direction tonight took, because if he’s not…

Jared’s eyes trace over Jensen’s face. He reaches up deliberately and tilts Jensen’s head. The kiss this time is long and searching. Shallower than before.

Damn it. It makes sense to treat this as if they don’t already live together, go their separate ways for the night and just take things slowly. Jensen knows it. But he doesn’t want it.

They step apart there in the middle of the living room, and Jensen notices that they never even got the lights on, except for in the kitchen. Jared grabs his hand and squeezes, pulls for just a second, then lets go and heads up the stairs, one hand trailing along the banister. Jensen turns his feet in the direction of his bedroom downstairs, toeing off his shoes as he goes and shutting the door behind him once he’s inside.

He feels so itchy in his clothes, and doubts he’ll sleep at all tonight. His mind and body are just too full. Too raw.

**

Jared comes downstairs when Jensen’s just finishing breakfast— toast and strawberry jam. Jensen doesn’t think he can handle much more than that. He nods a good morning and watches Jared cross the room, wishing he could say something normal.

Jared holds up a Frisbee. “Let’s hit the park.”

They don’t take the dogs. Jared’s in track pants and a thin shirt; Jensen gets a good view of his shoulders on the walk over, just a step behind Jared until Jared noticeably shortens his stride. “Sorry,” he murmurs, looking ahead. “Forget about you shrimps sometimes.”

Jensen steals the Frisbee with a deft grab and smacks Jared on the head with it. Jared turns, grinning, trots backward a few steps and motions for the throw. By the time they get to the park, they’ve spread out and limbered up, and Jensen’s proud of the way his throws are carving through the air right into Jared’s waiting grip. He makes Jared guess a few times and gets his own chance to scramble when Jared lobs the Frisbee a little too hard to Jensen’s right.

“Last night,” Jared says, like he’s bringing up football, and Jensen nearly fumbles a catch. He straightens and meets Jared’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

There’s no one else at the park save for a woman pushing her daughter on the swing set over on the playground. Jared holds up his hand and Jensen sends the Frisbee back.

“You okay with that?” Jared asks once he has it in hand.

Oh lord, with what? The kiss? The near-dive into bed? The way Jensen sort of lost his mind for several minutes there?

Jensen shrugs. He jumps to catch Jared’s throw. “Just didn’t want it to get out of hand.” He can’t believe they’re discussing this while tossing an electric blue Frisbee back and forth in the park on a Sunday morning.

Jared’s cheeks go scarlet and Jensen blinks. “Okay,” Jared finally says. “Wasn’t sure if you were having second thoughts.”

Jensen nearly interrupts Jared with his adamant reassurance before realizing it might be too much all at once. He’s not having second thoughts. The role he wants for Jared in his life finally slotted into place last night, but Jared… He’s hard to read.

Jensen hesitates just a moment more, then jogs over, stopping only when they’re close enough to have a normal conversation. Jared’s brow already bears a sheen of sweat, as does his upper lip. Jensen wipes his own face with his arm. “No second thoughts,” he says, looking Jared in the eye. “Just… want to make sure that you…”

He trails off, embarrassed, staring up at Jared, wanting equally to kiss him breathless and get the hell away before they screw up their friendship any more. But Jared’s hand shoots out fast and he pulls Jensen into a hug that freezes every single muscle he’s got. Jared’s in a worn, soft t-shirt, he smells like coffee and sweat and the freshly cut grass beneath their shoes. He smells fucking familiar. Comforting. Jensen wraps his arms around Jared’s torso and squeezes, because he can. He’s allowed.

Damn, he’s still allowed. Where in the world did Jared Tristan Padalecki come from, and why has no one snatched him up and run away with him by now?

“Thank you, Jen.” It’s spoken quietly in his ear. Even with the sun beating down his back, Jensen shivers.

**

At home, the hellhounds give them both baleful looks for going off and having happy funtimes without them, but they’re terrible at holding grudges or even remembering to be mad. As soon as Jared opens the fridge to grab sandwich fixings, Sadie and Harley love him to death again.

Jensen stands in the kitchen doorway on his tiptoes, fingers caught over the top lintel, feeling the stretch all through his shoulders and down his back. Fuck, but that’s orgasmic. He thinks about saying as much out loud, but the words falter and fall back down his throat. He swallows, then jumps when his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter.

“My mom,” he says once he’s seen the number on the screen. He tilts his head toward the sliding glass door. Jared nods, and Jensen answers as he heads out back. “Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo, it’s your dad.”

Jensen halts in the middle of the porch. “Hey. Dad.”

“Listen, your mom and I had a chat this morning. About what’s going on with you.”

Oh god. Jensen resists the urge to bang his head against the side of the house. “Yeah?” The word cracks.

His dad takes an audible breath. “Kid, your mom said you wanted to be here when it all went down. Talk to me in person, explain and all. But I don’t see the point in you coming all the way home, dragging this all out and sending people into hysterics.”

Jensen’s throat literally constricts. Like a boa constrictor. Constricting. He’s not ready for this, wasn’t prepared for it to go down like this, isn’t even in the right mindset for this call (if there is a right mindset for this kind of thing). “Dad, I’m… Are you…”

“Listen up, kiddo.” That’s the Voice. There’s no arguing with the Voice. “Stop worrying. Alright? I’d love you to come home, lord knows. What I don’t want is you freaking out in a plane or on a bus or, god forbid, behind the wheel of your car on a crowded freeway over what I’m going to say once you get here. You don’t need a head start on the grey hair, and I’m sure as heck not going to kick you out or reprogram your brain or disown you because you happen to be interested in a man.”

Again, hard to speak. And breathe.

“Jensen?”

“Yeah,” he manages. His throat hurts. “Yeah, Dad.”

“You’re my son, kiddo. Nothing’s going to change that. There are battles worth fighting in life, and this is definitely not one of them. Your mom’s worried you’re going to burst a blood vessel over this, and there’s no reason for you to be stressed out for longer than it takes me to dial your number and put your mind at rest. Now. If you want to come home and kick back, see your sister and your mom, that’s a reason for traveling.”

He might cry. He’s right on the edge. “Dad, I… Thanks.”

His dad’s tone softens. “No thanks necessary, Jensen. Might take me time to get my mind around the change in tastes, but… Hell. You probably knew that.”

Right know, Jensen’s pretty sure he doesn’t know anything. “I just…” He shakes his head. “Dad, I’m really glad you called.”

“You may not know this, but you’re a good kid, Jensen. Grew up smart, with drive, and I’m proud. I’m not interested in changing you.”

They talk for a few more minutes— mostly dropping back into the monosyllabic man-speak that women hate with a passion, and once Jensen ends the call, he sits down hard on the first step, catching himself with one hand and nearly dropping his phone. The door slides open behind him, and Jared’s steps cross the porch quickly.

“You okay?”

Jensen looks up at him, clutching his cell phone. “I’m. Yeah?”

Jared’s got a plate in his hand. He lowers it into Jensen’s line of sight. “Looked like you got a little more than you bargained for there. Everything alright back home?”

He looks from the two waiting sandwiches to his phone, then back again, then up at Jared. “My dad just told me he’s okay with me liking guys.”

Jared takes a seat next to him, kicking his long legs out. Jeez, his heels are resting in the fucking grass and he’s sitting on the top step. “Dude.”

Jensen thinks that constantly recovering from being in shock is no way to live. “Yeah.”

Jared studies him. “You alright?”

“More than alright,” Jensen breathes. “I wasn’t expecting— I mean—”

He falls silent. Jared claps him lightly on the shoulder, then picks up one of the sandwiches. Jensen lifts his from the plate and holds it in his lap. How to explain that he was scared out of his mind? His father has really never given him reason to think he’d cut him out of their lives for anything, and yet the fear is just too belly-deep. It’s such a massive shift. A huge revelation. Hard to imagine not being alone in the world with it, even when he knows he’s not.

“Never thought about telling my folks,” Jared says, contemplative around a mouthful of turkey and tomato. Jensen’s not sure what to feel in response to that. If it were him, he’d consider it a display of not taking this seriously. Dipping his toes safely, so to speak. But it’s Jared, and Jared walks through the world differently. He tends to deal with one big shift at a time, unlike Jensen, who likes to have a good grip on everything he can whenever he can.

He takes a bite of his sandwich— mmm, Jared used the honey mustard— and decides he’s going to take a leaf out of Jared’s book. Today, he’s just going to enjoy the fact that his dad’s love is truly unconditional.

**

They get Wednesday off because of a mistake in the set design, and Jensen wakes up to Dr. Harley’s prescribed stress therapy, also known as, oh hell, there’s a freaking pony sitting on my chest giving me a spit bath. Jensen’s a little ticklish. Okay, a lot ticklish, so by the time he’s done laughing and Harley has flopped over so his tummy can be rubbed more efficiently, Jensen’s feeling pretty relaxed.

He’s certain he wants a dog of his own if this thing with Jared doesn’t work out. Maybe he can distract Jared with Cadbury Cream Eggs and run off with Harley.

It would certainly help with the devastation he’s bound to be feeling right about then.

They’re having a nice snuggle when Jared barges in and corrupts Harley’s steadfast loyalty by yelling, “Poop bag!” Which, in dog, obviously means “We’re going to the dog park!” Jensen should feel more slighted by the foot to his chest in the mad scramble of Harley versus tangled bed sheets, but he’s surprisingly Zen about it. What can he say? That dog is full of win.

He gets up, showers, puts his pajamas right back on, then eats scrambled eggs with a bagel and adores the fact that it’s nearly noon already. They really need more days off in the middle of the week like this. He’d totally work on Saturday or Sunday to make up for it; he’d probably feel more energized with the weekend broken up.

He goes to the kitchen for more coffee and gets butter, eggs, and a bag of chocolate chips out of the fridge without really deciding to do it. Flour and sugar from the pantry, oatmeal and pecans and everything else he needs— he’s always had a good memory. But he wants to get it exactly right again, so he grabs the recipe from where it’s tucked into a cookbook and sets himself to making more Jared Cookies.

Ever since his father’s call, something in his bones has loosened up, and though he still has to remind himself that there’s no reason for that vestigial sense of dread anymore, he feels like he’s shifted some heavy slab off of himself. Kind of like how he felt as a kid when the first day of summer vacation finally came and he realized that he didn’t have homework due for ages. But this is liberating in a way he hasn’t felt before. He’s just... at ease.

Jared brings the dogs home just as Jensen’s stirring in the chocolate chips. An extra half a bag this time because, hello, chocolate. He’s still in his pajamas, standing barefoot in the kitchen with the bowl tucked under his arm, when Jared walks in and stops short.

“What,” he says, pointing at Jensen, “is that?”

“Three guesses,” Jensen manages around a cheek full of chocolate chips. “First two don’t count.”

The look on Jared’s face is startling and hard to read. He studies the bowl and spatula, then raises his eyes slowly. “You’re sort of awesome,” he says.

Jensen scoffs. “I’m beyond awesome.” He pops a lump of cookie dough into his mouth straight from the bowl and sighs at the taste, then holds the spatula out to Jared. “Wanna lick the spoon, Igor?”

Jared’s eyes narrow very suddenly. He sets the dogs’ leashes down on the counter and approaches the proffered spatula. When he takes it, though, he upends it and sticks it back in the bowl. And wraps his fingers around the rim.

Jensen’s formulating reasons why Jared can’t have the entire bowl, duh, but Jared isn’t stopping. His arm slides around Jensen’s waist; Jared pulls him in, bends his head, and licks the cookie dough right out of Jensen’s mouth before diving into a thorough, lengthy kiss. It’s a good thing Jared thought to grab the bowl because Jensen lets go of it. Jared slips it onto the countertop behind him.

“I’m good, thanks,” Jared breathes as he pulls away. He licks his lips. His eyes dart, searching. Whatever it is that he finds, he curls his hand around Jensen’s nape and goes back in, as sure as if they aren’t just sorting through this change in their relationship, as if he’s been kissing Jensen for months already. Jensen’s fine with that, and then his thoughts short out again. He’s been using them too much lately, it seems, and now he’s just going to kiss Jared, kiss him and kiss him for as long as Jared will let him.

It’s the best kiss ever, what with the cookie dough flavor slicking his tongue. Jensen cradles Jared’s head, god, he’s wanted to get his hands through that hair again ever since Saturday. This is so different from that: there’s no question fluttering between them right now. It’s a kiss, and it’s certain, and it’s the middle of a sunny day in their kitchen and the chocolate is a really nice touch.

It changes when Jared’s hands slip down, one at the small of his back and the other in an embrace around his shoulders, arm tucked under Jensen’s and hot against his side. Jensen’s heart thuds hard against his ribs, once, then picks up, a rapid tattoo in his temples. The kiss shifts, the shape of Jared’s mouth and the angle, the way he grips Jensen with his hands; it all triggers at once and Jensen inhales sharply through his nose, tugging Jared closer because it’s here. God, it’s fucking here. He didn’t see it coming.

Jared backs him up slowly, edging with his hips as he walks. Each step forward is a hot nudge to Jensen’s thighs, his stomach and chest. Their movement is so seamless, he feels like he’s stepped up onto Jared’s feet. He bumps into the counter and stops, and Jared presses closer, every inch of him heavy against Jensen. This kiss could go on and on, but Jensen’s already moving, dipping his mouth away. Jared’s lips catch him just under his eye on the way, then Jared presses his mouth to Jensen’s forehead and breathes through his nose. Looks down.

“S’okay,” Jared whispers before Jensen can say anything. “I’m right with you on this. We’re good.”

Jensen honestly doesn’t know how they actually understand each other because they communicate through a bunch of broken sentences and weird facial expressions most of the time. Jared’s ready. Somehow, he’s ready, and Jensen doesn’t know if he himself is ready anymore, but he fucking wants Jared. Jared and his cookies, Jared and his dogs, Jared and his house and his spastic flailing and his cheeky grins, Jensen wants it all, wants to point and say, yeah, that’s mine because he gave it to me. He entrusted it to me.

Too big; these thoughts are much too big for the current situation. Jensen manhandles Jared into another kiss, tasting and feeling and experiencing what it’s like when Jared wants him, because this is new territory for them. Maybe the only new territory left. Jensen wants to map it. He wants to memorize it. He wants to walk it blindfolded and still know exactly where he is at all times. Jared steps even closer, guiding their hips together and sending heat skittering right through Jensen’s nerves. He jerks back helplessly and attacks Jared’s throat instead, tasting salt and skin, feeling Jared’s palm tucked into the hollow at his back, just below his waistband, his shirt riding up a little and Jared’s thumb circling right over the base of his spine.

He should think about the aftermath of this. But he knows he’s not going to, not till it’s done. Whatever Jared’s side of things, Jensen is totally over the edge now. He can feel the weight of each day of the last few months thudding in his belly, waiting on tenterhooks, wondering first what was up with his feelings, then whether Jared felt the same, and then what they were to each other after Saturday. He still doesn’t know the answer to that last one but this doesn’t feel like a prelude to an awkward morning after. The light is different, their clothing’s different, everything’s just different. It’s enough for Jensen to let go.

Jared hitches Jensen’s hips up and forward, and it’s far beyond kissing now, worrisomely far. Jensen can’t even hold the kiss properly anymore; he needs air, his breath hitches into Jared’s mouth and Jared’s into his. He slides just a tiny bit to the left and they click home, legs between legs, angles complementing just right, and Jared jerks, buries his face in Jensen’s shoulder. He pushes his hand all the way down Jensen’s pants, between him and the counter, forcing them together again and again. It sparks low in Jensen’s belly, his thighs tingling like they’ve been asleep, his hips literally aching with the heat of it. He feels the first time Jared’s rhythm falters, a minute stutter that has blood flushing red up Jared’s throat into his cheeks. Jensen tongues back into Jared’s mouth, desperate for a kiss, because in a second he’s not going to have much control over anything, least of all the noises he’s making.

Jared’s making the loveliest noises. The heat under Jensen’s hands is slick and sweet; somehow he got his hand up Jared’s shirt, splayed over his chest, feeling each breath and each shudder. Jared presses in hard, a rough upward thrust of his hips, urging Jensen in counterpoint, and that’s it, he’s gone, all the tension rushing up and out in hot strafing bursts. His hips stutter and jolt into Jared’s, and Jared kisses him just as hard, then freezes. Trembles violently as he comes.

And now Jensen’s not a little dazed, one hand still threaded through Jared’s hair, blinking at the oven light, which is now off, indicating that it is preheated. Cookies, he thinks, but the thought doesn’t settle. Jared’s right here, warm and heaving against him, wrapped so tightly around him that Jensen doesn’t want to bother with anything that doesn’t have to do with them, here in the kitchen.

His back hurts. Jensen licks his lips, knowing he’s going to bruise from the counter’s edge. He only cares a little. His body feels loose and un-tethered, like he might just slide on down to the floor in a puddle if Jared ever lets go.

An auspicious first time, he thinks vaguely, against the countertop in their kitchen, messed pajamas and track pants, shirts rucked halfway up and cookie dough on the counter beside them. Oh god, his first time with Jared just ended.

His instinct is to kiss Jared, so he does. Languid and heartfelt, Jensen hopes. He’s certainly feeling it in the area of his heart. He’s okay with it if they don’t ever stop.

It goes on for long enough that Jensen forgets there’s reason to worry. Until Jared pulls away, breaking the sweet warmth between their mouths. Suddenly Jensen can’t look at him. Can’t, because if Jared looks scared or worried or wary or upset or a whole host of other things, he won’t be able to handle it. His emotions are on the brink of a quaking cliff. One push and he’ll go right over.

Jared presses his nose to Jensen’s cheek, nudging upward. “Jen, hey. Don’t.”

Even if he doesn’t look up, it’s not going to change whatever Jared’s feeling. Jensen lifts his eyes, swallowing, halfway to just distracting Jared again with his mouth, but Jared’s staring back, and he does look worried.

They just came together. Jensen can feel the evidence, for fuck’s sake, and he doesn’t know what to say. All his questions about awkwardness have been answered, but what about Jared’s questions? “Sorry,” Jensen whispers. “Maybe it wasn’t the right time.”

Jared studies him carefully and Jensen forces himself not to turn away. “Jen, I’m good with it if you are.”

Jensen instinctively clenches his hand in Jared’s hair and sees his tiniest of winces. He lets go, sucking in a breath. “I’m good.”

Fuck, he’s great. He just got off with Jared, the one who his emotions have damn well spiked over, every single one of them. No one’s ever been able to do this to him before. And he’s one lucky S.O.B because Jared still isn’t trying to put space between them. In fact, he seems to be cutting the space down as much as he possibly can, and maybe Jensen should just stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.

A spasm of fear shoots over Jared’s face, followed immediately by relief, and Jensen understands how much Jared was holding back right then. He cups Jared’s face, desperate to get as far away from that fear as possible. “No, we’re good, we’re— very good. We’re excellent.”

So his vocabulary sucks. Big fat hairy deal. At least he’s trying to speak, which is more than he can say for Jared, who’s just— kissing him again, fuck. He could get used to this, he’s already used to this, and Jared tastes damn good, all driven and focused like he is, like Jensen’s got more cookies somewhere in his mouth, and he’s not about to remind Jared about the full bowl of dough on the counter because then Jared might start making out with the bowl instead.

Oh god, they’re making out. It’s still surreal, never mind that they’ve just basically rubbed each other off.

Jared presses him back into the counter again and, oh, so that bruise is really going to suck. Jensen turns his head with a distressed grunt and Jared’s hand is immediately there, caressing his back. Smoothing away the pain. “Sorry.”

Oh, there is so nothing to be sorry about.

**

Eventually they finish the cookies. Which means that the dough that doesn’t get eaten makes it onto three trays in neat rows and columns, and the only time Jared lets go of Jensen happens when Jensen has to put them in the oven and take them out again.

**

That night, Jensen makes it two steps down the hall to his room before turning around and heading up the stairs. Jared went up to use his bathroom a few minutes ago, and when Jensen gets to his room, he’s brushing his teeth. Jensen sits on the bed before he can think about it and waits.

He hears Jared freeze a few steps into his bedroom. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jensen has no idea what the policy is. He and Jared had sex in the kitchen. Doesn’t matter if there was no… penetration. It was intended to be sex, so that’s what it was. Jensen’s not sorry they did it, he just doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to be sleeping with Jared now.

And just what the hell is the big deal anyway? Jared climbed into Jensen’s bed the night Jensen revealed his feelings for him and neither of them thought it was weird. But this feels different.

Jared shifts his weight, foot to foot. “You okay?”

No. Yes. It changes by the minute. Jensen can’t keep staring at Jared’s bare feet on the rug forever, though. When he looks up, he finds Jared in threadbare plaid pajama pants and nothing else. Jensen clears his throat.

“Question.”

Jared cocks his head. “Answer.”

Jensen tries not to smile and fails. “Look, are we…?” He runs a hand over Jared’s blankets.

Jared’s eyes follow the movement and flick back to him. He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Okay. Jensen exhales, but Jared keeps going. “Did you want to…”

It takes him a second to get what’s behind Jared’s wrinkled brow, the way he’s biting his lip, and when he does, he fidgets. “Well… I mean, we have to be up early. Tomorrow.”

Lame, but true. He suspects that if he has full-on sex with Jared, he’ll end up too wired to sleep, and they’ve got a heinously early call to set in the morning in order to make up for lost time. But Jared’s not wearing a shirt and Jensen fucking wants him. He’s not about to start denying things now.

Still, the thought of taking so many steps in one day makes his insides roil uncomfortably. Not when it took them this long to get to this place, this level of comfort. On top of that, he has a feeling he won’t be able to sleep much on his own, thinking of Jared in bed one floor above him. Wondering if Jared’s thinking of him.

“Maybe,” Jared offers, “we could just, you know. Sleep.”

Jensen feels himself blush. “Is it okay? I don’t want to—”

“It’s okay,” Jared bursts out, and blushes, too. He stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, then returns to the bathroom.

Jensen gets into bed.

When Jared turns the lights out, it’s like a weight lifting. Jensen’s perfectly okay with hiding in the dark tonight; he’ll butch up again tomorrow. Jared gets in bed— the whole bed smells like Jared, it’s really kind of wonderful— and settles on his side, facing Jensen. He can see the outline of Jared’s head on the next pillow.

A hand covers his where it rests between them. “Yeah?” Jared sounds parched.

Jensen turns his hand over and squeezes Jared’s. “Okay.”

Then he leans forward. Kisses Jared softly on the mouth and says goodnight.

**

Jensen half-wakes to pitch blackness with Jared’s hand cupping low on his hip and a jittery feeling under his skin. He squirms, punching at his pillow, inhales, then rolls slowly onto his back until Jared’s hand is on him, cupped over his pajamas. Jared makes a sleep-smothered sound. His fingers tense and Jensen can’t help gasping. Jared’s hand moves, a sluggish climb up over his belly and a slip back down, this time underneath the waistline of his pants. Jensen groans at the feeling and rolls into it, pushing against Jared’s hand as it moves over him, fumbling his own hand inside Jared’s pajamas, and finally sighing when he touches him. Jared hooks a leg over Jensen’s, tugging him in, and mouths sleepily at his throat, palming, pulling, stroking until Jensen’s arching with it, trying to hold up his end of the deal and not sure if it’s working, and then Jared gives a jerk, his whole body ripples, and he comes across Jensen’s fingers. Jensen hears his own gasps, tiny and shallow, matching the speed of Jared’s strokes, and comes when Jared’s grip tightens, rolls around, oh god, that’s— fucking good. Jensen reaches for Jared and snugs them close, twisting their legs together, searching for sleep and finding it again with his face buried in the curve of Jared’s throat.

**

Apparently Jensen can’t go a night in Jared’s bed without grabbing him and having at it, so that’s new.

The down side? Waking up in a panic when Jared’s unfamiliar alarm sounds, realizing he’s got a mess to take care of, matching Jared’s awkward blush when Jared notices his similar situation, and not being able to talk it over because Clif’s coming to get them in half an hour.

The upside? Jensen’s feeling pretty damn sated. And a little bit smug. And extremely energetic. Fuck the awkwardness; he came twice yesterday (well, maybe once yesterday and once really early this morning), both times with Jared, and that’s awesome. He’s not giving ‘awkward’ the time of day.

He spends the car ride drinking Starbucks and thinking of all the people he’d like to thank for making those fantastic orgasms possible: Chris for talking sense into him; Misha for making fun of his botched line way back when; his mom for being understanding; Misha for getting it wrong and still being right; Jared for actually, you know, jacking him off; Misha for offering gay sex in a really inappropriate way; Misha for—

Fuck. This is entirely Misha’s doing.

Yes, Jensen is aware that his train of thought is bordering on disturbing and just all-around whacked, and that the person he’s most thankful for is definitely Jared because, hello, in love. Twitterpated. Butterflies and birdies and a pissed off owl. He’s fucking head over heels for the person he’s having sex with and that is the perfect arrangement. But without Misha, Jensen would never have started thinking about Jared differently. Without Misha, Jensen would never have pursued the idea of more than just friends. Without Misha, none of this would have happened.

Well, not for a while longer at least.

He has to express his thanks somehow, but he can’t think of the right words to describe Misha’s role in all this. He’s a giver, he’s a fucking good friend, he’s an observant bastard— yep, still highly observant, seeing as he takes one look at Jared and Jensen over the top of his coffee cup and smirks like he’s just edited their very secret sex tape— but none of it’s right, none of it fits the gift Misha’s roundabout psychosis has given him.

“I don’t know how to thank you, man.” It feels kind of dumb to thank Misha for sex Misha didn’t even supply, but hey. Jensen’s extremely grateful.

Misha stirs his coffee with a sugar cube. It doesn’t work. “Good, me neither. What are we talking about?”

“Jared.”

“Ah.”

“And me.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t know how great you are, seriously.”

“How about a pony? With wings.”

Jensen blinks. “Wings.” And right then, the epiphany hits him like a rabid rhinoceros driving a steam shovel into his face.

“Misha,” Jensen croaks, pointing at Misha’s chest until his finger is bouncing up and down. “Misha.”

Misha eyes him balefully. “No.”

Everything is so very clear now. “Misha.”

“Stop. Right there, Ackles, I’m warning you.” Misha’s eyes are really wide. Really.

“But Misha, you… you…”

“If you actually say it, I will eat the hearts of your unborn children.”

Jensen grins. “Are my guardian angel.”

“Kill me now,” Misha grunts as Jensen yanks him into the most suffocating hug he can manage.

**

When they get home, there’s no one else there. Ergo, it’s quiet. Ergo ergo, Jensen’s nerves pop in for another unwelcome visit.

Jared feeds the dogs and lets them out. They fix themselves dinner without talking much and eat it next to each other on the couch, watching Joey and Ross deny their love for napping together. It’s a good thing Jensen has seen this episode a zillion times because he really isn’t paying much attention.

It’s still new. He’s still not used to it and has to keep reminding himself that this is all different from the norm. Well, not totally different, but enough to draw the attention.

Fuck. Shouldn’t they be going through a honeymoon period? Jensen’s a little miffed. Why can’t they just have a nice, regular relationship full of touchy-feely groping and disgusting displays of affection at all times?

Jared yawns when the credits start, stretching his arm up and out. Jensen leans forward, sliding his half-emptied plate onto the coffee table. When he straightens, he realizes that Jared is watching him. A hand touches down at his lower back, the gentle stroke of fingers.

“Think we should hit the sack,” Jared says. Almost carefree, the way he says it, but Jensen can hear the tension underneath. He’s pretty bushed, and Jared looks about twenty minutes from falling asleep.

Suddenly, Jared’s face screws up. He groans and lets his head fall back against the couch. “Oh, for fuck’s… Need to change my sheets first.”

Jensen feels himself flush at the memory of that morning. He watches Jared rub his face, then exert himself to sit forward, get moving, get it done. Jensen clears his throat. “Or we could just sleep in mine.”

Jared only trips up for a second, blinking one too many times at Jensen’s offer. He grins and pushes off the couch. “Good idea.”

He reaches down and pulls Jensen up, then lets go of his hand and heads for the back door to let the dogs in for the night. Jensen takes the plates into the kitchen, then waits by the sink until Jared ushers Harley and Sadie through to the living room. He can feel Jared just behind him, heading down the hall to his room.

Once there, however, Jared backtracks and heads upstairs to brush his teeth and get his pajamas, and Jensen ends up sitting in bed first again, trying to decide whether his t-shirt should remain on or come off and why the fuck does this matter so damn much all of a sudden? It’s Jared. Jared’s seen him clothed and half-clothed and probably even buck-naked, but a lot of that was on set and that’s about as far away as the moon right now.

When Jared returns, he’s in a tank top and pajama pants, so. He pauses just inside the door and shuts it behind him, then meets Jensen’s eyes, like Jensen’s going to change his mind and uninvite him or something. Funnily enough, the thought that’s currently romping through Jensen’s head is that he’d like to get Jared out of that shirt. He shifts, trying to find his equilibrium again, and pulls the blankets back on the closer side of the bed.

Jared gets in.

They lie there facing each other for a minute, and Jensen tries not to swallow, even though the urge is strong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about this, but his heart is hammering and, fuck, he’s already come with Jared twice, this shouldn’t be a big deal. But they’re not half asleep or standing in the kitchen in broad daylight this time. This is on a different level.

It feels fast, and yet it doesn’t. They’ve known each other for years, they’ve already made it past most of the trouble spots that other couples get into. The look on Jared’s face can only be described as uncertain, and Jensen reaches across the space automatically, smoothing a hand down Jared’s arm. “Hey.”

Jared’s eyes dart down and back up again. “You know, I— This is alright? I mean, really.”

“I should be asking you that.”

Jared shakes his head. “No, it’s not even about that. I’m just…”

“It’s new,” Jensen murmurs.

Jared’s hand finds his under the blanket and clasps it. “Yeah. And no.”

Jensen scoots forward, hoping he’s reading Jared right, and kisses him softly on the mouth. Jared sighs like he’s been holding his breath and kisses back. And fuck if Jensen’s not already used to this. It doesn’t feel like an invasion of Jared’s space at all anymore. The nervousness is still there, obviously, but kissing Jared has also begun to feel like a natural behavior.

Jared tucks a hand around the back of Jensen’s head and rises up a little, maneuvering into a looser kiss that’s made of tongues and quick breaths and exploration. Jensen relaxes and lets him explore. It feels good. Not lazy— there’s a determination behind Jared’s kiss, like he’s got a goal in mind. Jensen slips his arms around Jared’s body, hauling him in closer and tangling their legs together.

He doesn’t realize until after it’s done that he’s on his back, Jared up on his elbow, leaning over him and tonguing him deeply. Damn, that’s hot. Jensen hitches a knee up and Jared’s leg slips between his. Their feet slide over each other. He can feel Jared’s toes curl against the arch of his foot.

One thing’s for sure: he loves the feel of Jared’s weight pressing down on him. Body heat and the push and give of his chest as he breathes— it’s fantastic and incredibly intimate. Jared’s hand drifts down and cups his waist. He dips into Jensen’s mouth again, fingers clenching a little.

And pulls back.

Jensen sees him swallow. Jared stares down at him for several endless seconds, and pushes himself completely off. Jensen struggles up onto his elbows, still overwhelmed from the kissing, forming the words to ask. He falters when Jared pulls his own tank top over his head.

His hand returns to Jensen’s waist. This time, Jensen can feel the heat bleeding directly from Jared’s palm into his skin.

“Jen?”

Jensen can see Jared’s anxiety but all he hears is the question underneath the sound of his name. He nods and Jared reaches down. Pulls his t-shirt up and off. Jensen drops his arms as soon as it’s gone, back to Jared’s shoulders. He traces down Jared’s chest with his fingertips.

He knows where he wants this to go. Another first in a long line of firsts. He can feel the thud of his pulse, see the opposing beat of Jared’s in the hollow of his throat. He can’t quite get himself to look Jared in the eye as he thumbs the waist of his own pants down.

Jared jerks and sits up, watching for a second before he goes for his own pants. And seeing Jared naked is… god, it’s something else. Jensen isn’t sure he was ready for this either, but it’s too late now, and Jared can see him as well. Jensen chews his lip, takes in Jared’s body, all that skin, his muscles, the dip at his hips. Everything.

“Come here,” he whispers, finally looking up. Jared’s lower lip is worried pink. The expression on his face makes Jensen feel like he needs more air than he could ever possibly get, but the feeling when Jared drops his weight back down is a shock. Jensen cups Jared’s face in both hands, steadying himself as best he can. His own chest is heaving; too much, too big, and then Jared’s hand comes down right over Jensen’s heart and he kisses him again.

“God,” Jensen breathes. Jared makes an indescribable sound and touches his lips to Jensen’s nose. Jensen kisses his chin, nudges up and kisses his throat. Jared bends, catches his mouth once more, shifting on top of him. Jensen grabs him tight, rolling his hips up, instinctive, and opens his eyes. Jared’s looking right back, dazed but still there. Right there with him, every kiss, every move.

Jensen’s hard within seconds and he feels it when Jared follows. Fuck. There are no clothes this time; Jensen’s going to come, going to make Jared come, skin on skin. It feels fucking good. He manages Jared’s name, struggling to find a rhythm, struggling to get Jared closer, as close as he can without actually being inside him. It’s a bigger feeling than he ever expected. His heart feels swollen, feverish and full, fingers splayed over Jared’s ribs. He tries to touch as much of him as he can, searches out Jared’s mouth and the heat in his eyes again. Finds both. Jared tucks them together and rolls his hips down again. Again.

Jensen loses track somewhere in between, his back tightening in a heady rush, heat coiling, pulsing lower, slamming each nerve as it finally hits. He arches up, gasping against Jared’s lips, and feels it beyond the rush when Jared stiffens, jerks. Shudders. Jensen’s body reacts again and he bites his lip as he rides it out, almost pain, clutching Jared to him, each puff of breath on his chin like a thump of his heart.

“Oh, god. Jared.” He doesn’t know if he said it aloud or not. Jared’s mouth tastes loose and salty from their sweat. Jensen kisses him until his chest starts hurting from the lack of air. Then Jared presses his mouth to Jensen’s throat and breathes, heavy exhalations skimming over Jensen’s skin.

When their breathing has slowed, Jared lifts up on one elbow again and runs a hand through Jensen’s hair, sweeping it back from his forehead. He smiles gently. “Hey.”

Jensen doesn’t have anything to say. He reaches up, touches Jared’s mouth, and smiles back.

~fin~