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errant_janePrevious
It's nice enough outside that Jensen decides to take a circuitous route on his walk to Jeff's, if for no other reason than it will give him time to deal with the twist of anticipation snaking through him. Third date, dinner at Jeff's house. If Jensen doesn't get laid tonight he might actually cry.
From the outside, Jeff's house is nice— two stories, canary yellow with white trim and a dark red door. There's a Harley sitting out front, sleek and pretty in the late afternoon sun. Jensen lets out a low whistle. Not that he's really a bike guy, but he can appreciate the blatant sex-appeal. He's a few minutes early, but he can't bring himself to do another lap around the block, so he takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell.
When Jeff opens the door, he's wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Hey," he says with that warm, pleased smile that makes Jensen's stomach flip.
"Hey." Jensen has to stick his hands in his pockets to keep from pawing at him straight off the bat. "That your bike?" he asks, nodding at the Harley.
"Yeah, shit. I should put that away." Jeff tucks the end of the dishtowel into his back pocket and brushes past Jensen on his way out the door. "Had to make a last-minute run to QFC."
"Uh huh," Jensen says, leaning against the doorjamb. "Admit it, you left it out to impress me."
Jeff tilts his head at him, squinting one eye against the sunlight. "Did it work?"
"Absolutely," Jensen says with a grin. But totally unnecessary, he thinks. I already wanted to fuck you.
"I'll take you out sometime."
Jensen wonders if Jeff works on making things sound that dirty, or if his mind is just so one-track at the moment that he's reading into everything. Before he can respond, something bumps against his leg. When he looks down, there's a dog sitting at his feet, its attention swinging between him and Jeff.
"That's my best girl, Bisou," Jeff says, wheeling the bike up the gravel drive. "You can go on in, I'll be there in a second."
"Sure." Jensen goes inside and closes the door behind him. He feels a little weird about exploring when Jeff's not there, so he kneels down and holds his hand out to the dog. She sniffs him tentatively and then scoots a little closer. "Hey there," Jensen says softly. By her coloring, he guesses she's part Rottweiler, but she seems about as fierce as a fluffy bunny.
Jensen pets her head softly, then scratches behind her ears. Her tail thumps against the hardwood floor as she scoots closer to him, twisting around so that her back is pressed against his legs. "Aren't you a sweet girl?" Jensen reaches down to pat her chest and tummy and she wiggles a little closer and tilts her head back to look up at him adoringly.
"You know she's in doggy heaven right now." Jensen looks up to find Jeff leaning against the wall watching him. "Back door," he says by way of an explanation.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be a little bit jealous." Jeff walks over to them and squats down. "Can't believe I was thrown over so easily." He reaches out and strokes over Bisou's nose. "I don't blame you, girl. I would throw me over for him too." When he looks back up, Jensen feels it like a full-body caress. "Hungry?"
Jensen nods and watches stupidly as Jeff straightens and turns back toward the kitchen.
Dinner is delicious, smoked salmon with wild rice and a mixed green salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dressing. Jensen is pleased to note that the entire meal is void of onions and garlic. He takes small sips of his wine in between bites, hoping that he's not too conspicuous in how little he cares for it. Red wine is something he's not yet developed a taste for and it makes him feel uncultured.
They make small talk, but Jensen keeps losing track of the conversation. He'll find himself zoning out on the taper of Jeff's fingers or the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. Jeff doesn't say anything, but Jensen is sure he notices. How could he not? Jensen is doing everything short of panting at him and humping his leg. It would be embarrassing, but every so often Jeff will do something, shift in his seat, or his gaze will flick down to Jensen's mouth and Jensen's pretty sure they're on the same chapter, if not the exact page.
Jeff turns down his offer to help with dishes. "There's beer in the fridge," he says and Jensen gives him a grateful smile.
"You're a prince." There's an empty space on the counter next to the sink, and Jensen pushes himself up so that he can sit and watch Jeff work. "No gloves?" he asks as Jeff washes the first plate. "That'll ruin your manicure for sure."
"Smartass." Jeff raises his hands and flicks soapy water at Jensen. "So, I have a confession to make," Jeff says as Jensen wipes bubbles off his cheek.
"Yeah?" It's an ominous sort of statement and Jensen finds himself tensing in anticipation.
"I asked Misha about you. Before we met." Jeff glances up at him and then returns his focus to the dishes. "Saw you leaving the house a couple of times on my way to work. Maneuvered my way into an introduction."
"Yeah?" Jensen says again, unable to hide his smile.
Jeff looks up at him and laughs. "You shouldn't look so pleased. I just wanted you to know what sort of creep you're getting involved with."
"I'm okay with it." Jensen hops off the counter. "Bathroom?" He needs a moment to regroup and wait for the urge to do a you think I'm hot happy dance to pass.
"Down the hall, first door on your left."
Jensen rids himself of the wine and beer and washes his hands. He presses his wet palms against his cheeks and the back of his neck and takes a deep breath, looks at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed from the wine and he's still grinning like an idiot, but he's glad to see that he doesn't look nearly as desperate as he feels.
"Help yourself to another beer if you want," Jeff says when Jensen gets back to the kitchen. "I was thinking we could watch a movie or something." He tosses the towel he was using onto the counter and winks at Jensen. "Be right back."
Watch a movie? Was he joking? Jensen hops back up on the counter and picks up his beer, finishing it off in one long swig. He doesn't bother to get another, idly picking at the label on his empty bottle as he waits for Jeff to return.
Bisou wanders into the kitchen, her nose to the ground in search of stray bits of food. She stops in front of Jensen to smell his shoe.
"What do you think, Bisou?" Jensen asks her. "Am I gonna get lucky tonight?"
"Dogs are notoriously unreliable about these things."
Jensen starts and looks up to see Jeff smiling at him. He shrugs. "Figured it'd be less embarrassing to ask her."
"How'd that work out for you?"
"Not the way I'd anticipated," Jensen admits. "You weren't serious about the movie, were you?"
Jeff leans against the counter across from Jensen and crosses his arms over his chest. "Not a movie fan?" he finally asks.
"God." Jensen drops his head down, looks up at Jeff thorough his bangs. "You're killing me, man. Seriously. A guy's got needs."
"I think you'll survive," Jeff says, but he pushes away from the counter with his hips and steps closer, into the space between Jensen's spread legs.
"You have no proof of that." Jensen's breath hitches as Jeff uncrosses his arms and settles his palms high on Jensen's thighs. He sets his bottle aside and leans back on his hands, spreading himself out for Jeff's perusal. "C'mon. Don't make me beg." He bites his bottom lip and grins. "Or, y'know. Make me beg. Just not quite this early in the proceedings."
"Christ, kid." Jeff makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. "You could tempt a monk."
Jensen splays his thighs a little wider and tilts his head. "You're not a monk, Jeff."
By the time they make it to the bedroom, Jensen's shirt and shoes and right sock are gone. His left sock is still there, but he's more worried about getting out of his jeans. Jeff isn't watching him at the moment. He's stripping out of his own clothes in quick, perfunctory movements that probably shouldn't be as hot as they are.
"Bed," Jeff says as soon as Jensen's naked and Jensen scrambles to comply.
The duvet cover is soft beneath Jensen's back and for a moment he wonders if he should have stopped to pull it back, but Jeff doesn't seem to mind. Once he's naked, he stands there staring at Jensen for an impossibly long moment before smiling and leaning over. He runs his hand down Jensen's side, then reaches to tug off Jensen's errant sock.
Jensen flushes. He'd forgotten about that.
"You're about the prettiest fucking thing I've seen in my life." Jeff kneels onto the bed and Jensen automatically spreads his thighs wide to make room, groans at the feel of Jeff's bare skin.
Jeff kisses him, slow and long as Jensen writhes against him, like he has none of Jensen's sense of urgency. Jensen skitters his hands over Jeff's shoulders, down his back— thick, corded muscle— and thinks he could get off on the feel of Jeff's body alone. He is big everywhere, solid and huge. While Jensen has never considered himself as having a size kink, he can't deny how hot it is to feel this small under someone.
"I'm gonna fuck you," Jeff whispers against Jensen's mouth. He pulls back and looks down at Jensen. "That good with you?"
"Yeah." Jensen nods, quick, jerky movements because fuck, yeah. He takes a deep breath as Jeff sits up and leans over to grab a bottle of lube off the nightstand.
"You've done this before, right?" Jeff sits back on his heels and flips open the lid to the bottle.
Jensen nods again. "Been awhile." Which is one of the more ludicrous understatements he's ever made. It's been so long that there is the very real risk of Jensen losing it completely and begging Jeff to fucking get to it already.
"I'll go slow." The amusement in Jeff's voice makes Jensen think that he's aware of how on-edge Jensen is. He runs a slick finger between Jensen's cheeks, too light and teasing. Jensen reaches down and grabs behind his knees to hold himself open, give Jeff better access. "Good boy," Jeff says as he slides his finger into Jensen's body.
Heat surges through Jensen and he's not sure if it's in response to Jeff's touch or his words. He thumps his head down and stares at the ceiling, refrains just barely from blatantly fucking himself back onto Jeff's hand when he adds another finger. The only thing he can hear is the sound of his own breathing, harsh, loud panting noises that echo in his ears as Jeff works him open. It's too slow, too much, too good and far too long before Jeff pulls his hand away, leaves Jensen's body fluttering and clenching around nothing.
"Alright." Jeff moves back and slaps the side of Jensen's thigh. "Turn over for me, sweetheart. Next time I fuck you, I'll watch your pretty face. This time..." He trails off, leaving the lascivious tone of his voice fill in all the blanks.
Jensen feels shaky as he moves, wound up so tight he has trouble making his limbs work the way they should. He can't remember the last time he wanted something this bad. He finally manages to get his knees underneath him, settling on his elbows, ass in the air as blatant as he can possibly be.
"Good boy," Jeff says again, smoothing his hand down Jensen's side and Jensen's cock twitches in response. There's a rustling sound of the condom wrapper, then Jeff's hands are back on him, spreading Jensen's cheeks, a thumb rubbing over his hole. "Now what was that you said earlier about begging?"
Oh Jesus, Jensen thinks. "Please," he gets out. "Fuck. Please. Fuck me. Please." They're the only words he can think of as Jeff's thumb rubs over him, merciless teasing and Jensen is too hard and aching to think. "Jeff."
"Yeah, okay."
The tip of Jeff's thumb presses into Jensen's hole for just a moment and then it's gone. Replaced with the head of his cock and Jensen can't help the choked-off sob of relief that comes out of him.
"Relax for me, sweetheart." Jeff's hands settle on Jensen's hips. "I'll take care of you." He presses in slow and steady until his balls are resting against Jensen's ass.
Jensen nods, his head hanging between his shoulders, yes, yes, yes. He's unable to form words at the moment, can't manage anything beyond breathing with Jeff's cock so deep inside him. His entire body throbs with it, it's been so long and Jeff is huge, hard and splitting him open, holding him there as he tries to adjust.
When Jeff finally moves, it's a slow slide out, then in again with a little more force. Jensen grunts and braces himself as Jeff slides out again. "You good?"
"Yeah."
The next thrust is even harder, Jeff snapping his hips forward as he pulls Jensen back onto his cock and it's good, so fucking good, sending jolts of pleasure up Jensen's spine. Jensen nods helplessly, wanting more, just like that. He either says that out loud, or Jeff just gets it because he sets up a rhythm, fucking Jensen hard, skating on the right side of too much.
It makes Jensen feel strung-out. The harder Jeff fucks him the more he wants, pleasure thrumming through him, lighting him up every time Jeff sinks into his body. Jensen tries to press back, to beg with his movements when the words get stuck in his throat, but Jeff's grip on him is tight and he's unable to do anything other than exactly what Jeff wants him to do. Jensen has never been so hot in his life.
The second Jeff reaches around to touch him, it's over. One downward stroke on Jensen's cock and Jensen comes, shaking, a desperate, hurt noise spilling out of his mouth when Jeff continues to stroke him through it.
Jeff's rhythm hitches as he grabs Jensen's hip again, an odd, stuttered jolt. It's Jensen's only indication that Jeff is affected as he thrusts back in. A few more brutal strokes and then Jeff shudders against him, his fingers digging into Jensen's skin hard enough to really hurt, but Jensen is far beyond caring. He tries not whimper when Jeff finally slides out of him.
Jensen rolls onto his side when Jeff stands up. He's too blissed-out to bother paying attention as Jeff moves around the room, so he's startled at the feel of a wet cloth against his belly a minute later.
"Didn't mean to scare you."
"Ninja." Jensen grins and turns onto his back. He stretches lazily, allowing Jeff to wipe his skin clean.
"Sorry about that," Jeff says, and Jensen looks down to where his thumb is moving back and forth over the angry red marks on the skin over Jensen's hipbones. He doesn't look the least bit sorry. "You gonna stay the night?"
"Are you kidding me?" Jensen feels a warm, sated knot of pleasure in his stomach at the way Jeff's gaze sweeps over his body. "I don't think I'll be able to move for at least a day."
"Good." Jeff walks over to the corner of the room and tosses the washcloth into the hamper. "Everything I have in mind for the weekend requires you to stay right where you are."
Jensen has absolutely no problem with that.
An insistent knocking wakes Jensen, followed by the sound of the doorbell. Jeff's arm is wrapped around his waist and he smiles when Jeff grumbles something unintelligible against the back of his neck. Jensen cracks his eyes open to find that it is, in fact, morning, but he feels no need to be conscious yet.
The doorbell rings again and Jeff rolls away from him. "I'm going to go kill somebody now."
Jensen rolls over into the warm spot that Jeff just vacated and falls back asleep. When he wakes up again, it's because something's landed on top of his legs. He blinks his eyes open and sees Jeff standing at the foot of the bed in a pair of black sweat pants, the corners of his mouth pulled down like he's trying not to smile.
"I believe that's for you," Jeff says and then turns and heads into the bathroom.
The article in question is a familiar reusable grocery bag. Jensen grabs it and unknots the handles to look inside. It contains his contact stuff, the case and solution, his glasses, his toothbrush and toothpaste and at least a hundred condoms.
"I think Misha has an amazing amount of faith in our stamina," Jensen calls out, laughing. He slips out of bed and pulls on his boxers. As entirely inappropriate as Misha's gesture is, he's grateful to have the option of taking his contacts out. His eyes feel dry and scratchy.
Jeff is grinning and shaking his head when he comes out of the bathroom. "You tell him that if he ever again wakes me up this early on a weekend, I will make him regret it."
"Will do." Jensen goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. He takes a leak, washes his hands, takes out his contacts, brushes his teeth and feels about a thousand times better. "It's a good thing you already know my roommates," Jensen says as he walks back into the bedroom. Jeff is already back in bed. "Otherwise, that might have been awkward to explain." He stops short when he realizes Jeff is staring at him. "What?"
"Nothing." Jeff shakes his head. "I just, uh. I haven't seen the glasses before."
"Oh, yeah." Jensen rubs the back of his neck and feels stupidly slow when he realizes what Jeff's look actually means. "You like them." It isn't a question.
"I do." Jeff grins and crooks his finger at Jensen.
Jensen walks the rest of the way to the bed and climbs on, straddling Jeff's lap. "Yeah?" He leans down so he can kiss Jeff's neck. "Like a sexy librarian thing?"
"You're incorrigible." Jeff groans and runs his hands over Jensen's back as Jensen sucks kisses down his neck and chest.
"All part of my charm," Jensen says and continues kissing lower.
Toward the end of July, Dean "Call Me Sam" Ferris asks Jensen into her office after lunch, which doesn't seem like a good sign to Jensen. He's been temping there for a few months now and he figures this might be the end of his assignment, though he's not actually sure how long maternity leave lasts.
"You've been doing a good job here, Jensen," Sam says after he sits down. "How would you like to make it permanent?"
"I'm sorry?" Jensen has yet to get used to Sam's directness. It always seems to catch him off guard. "What about Janine?"
"Janine turned in her notice today. She's decided to stay home for a few years." Sam shrugs and spreads her hands as if to say, What are you going to do? "She's coming by later to clean out her desk. If you're interested, I'll talk to the agency about buying out the rest of your contract."
"Oh. Yeah. Yes, I'm definitely interested," Jensen says. He likes the job for the most part. It's nothing too difficult, but he stays busy enough to make the time pass and Sam is a decent boss. She treats him like a competent human being, which is more than Jensen can say for most of the jobs he's had.
"Good." Sam smiles. "I'll talk to the agency and let you know."
"Thank you."
Sam nods and turns back to her computer in the no-nonsense way she does everything and Jensen goes back to his desk and tries to focus on getting something done. It takes a little bit of effort on Fridays after lunch.
About an hour later a girl comes in wearing a long, flowing skirt and a peasant blouse with a baby strapped to her chest.
"You must be Janine," Jensen says.
"I am!" She smiles brightly at him. She has whiskey-colored eyes, dimples and freckles across the bridge of her nose. "You must be Jensen!"
"I am." Jensen suspects that between the freckles and dimples and the enthusiastic way she speaks, Janine charms almost everyone she meets. "And who is this?" he asks, coming around so that he can properly see the baby.
"This is David!" She makes a surprised face at her son and then kisses one of his fat little cheeks. "Do you want to hold him while I get my stuff?"
"Yeah, sure." Jensen can't help his stupid grin as Janine hands David over to him. He likes babies, always has. Not for any profound reason, like that they are tiny people that have yet to learn prejudice, though that's true. Jensen is man enough to admit that he likes babies because they are adorable. "Hey there, buddy."
David has his mom's eyes, chubby cheeks and a fair amount of dark hair that is sticking up in every direction. He looks up at Jensen and gurgles, kicking his feet with enthusiasm.
"I think I just orgasmed." Jensen looks up to see Alona, one of the grad students, walk into the room. She points at him and says, "Seriously. You should carry a baby around all the time." Then she turns to Janine. "Hey! I thought I heard you in here!"
"I'll work on that," Jensen says, mostly to himself because Alona is already chatting with Janine. He tunes them out, talking quietly to David instead, making faces that have David giggling and shaking his fists. It's not that Jensen wants his own kids, he really and truly doesn't. But he likes being around them. They make him happy in a peaceful, uncomplicated sort of way, though he supposes that's not unusual.
It's way past quitting time when Janine comes to take David back from him. She and Alona are still chatting as she lifts her sleeping baby out of Jensen's arms. "Thank you for watching him," she says. "You must have the magic touch. He's generally not quiet for this long."
Jensen shrugs. "Kids usually like me."
"They're usually a good judge of character." She holds David against her chest with one arm and grabs Jensen's hand. "Sam told me what a good job you've been doing. Thanks for being rad enough that I don't feel guilty about leaving."
"Uh, you're welcome, I guess?" Jensen nods at her. "You've got a pretty cute kid there."
She laughs. "Thanks! I'm pretty fond of him myself."
It's after six by the time Jensen's bus comes, so he heads straight to Jeff's rather than going home to change. They don't really have plans so much as they've reached the point where they have a standing Friday night date.
"I was starting to wonder," Jeff says when he opens the door.
"The girl I've been filling in for quit today. Which means I will soon be an official university employee." Jensen sticks his hands in his pockets as he walks into the house, trying to not sound overly excited about his first official post-college job.
"Yeah?" Jeff shuts the door and grabs his hips, pulls him close. Kisses Jensen lightly and says, "Does that mean you'll start wearing those tweed blazers with the elbow patches?"
"Yeah." Jensen laughs and kisses Jeff back. "Full tweed ensembles," he says against Jeff's lips. "I'll wear my glasses all the time."
"Now you're just being a tease." Jeff presses him back against the door and kisses him thoroughly, his tongue sliding hotly against Jensen's until Jensen wraps his arms around Jeff's neck to pull him closer. Jeff breaks the kiss, moves down to scrape his teeth against Jensen's jaw. "We should celebrate," he says
Jensen blinks and drops his head back, hitting it against the wood harder than he intended. He stretches his neck to give Jeff better access. "What did you have in mind?" He can feel Jeff's smile pressed against his skin.
"I dunno," Jeff says eventually. "Couple of beers, maybe order some pizza. Watch a movie." He undoes the top button of Jensen's pants.
"Sure," Jensen says. "A movie sounds perfect."
It's late Sunday afternoon and Jensen is supposed to be watching the Mariner's game, or at least reading the book he grabbed because he finds baseball boring. Mostly he is dozing, stretched out on the couch, his toes tucked under Jeff's thigh. He woke up at six for some reason and, unable to get back to sleep, went for a run. He was showered and had breakfast made by the time Jeff got up. After the dishes were done, Jeff blew him in the kitchen, so it wasn't a wasted effort.
Now there is baseball, which has become the bane of Jensen's summer of sex. Jeff is a fan and very much watching the game. He keeps startling Jensen out of his sleep by yelling at the umpire. It would be more irritating if Jensen didn't find it completely endearing. He really can't understand why someone would get so worked up over baseball when there is football in the world.
"What are you grinning at?" Jeff asks during the commercial break.
"You," Jensen tells him without opening his eyes. "Baseball's a stupid game."
"Mmm." Jeff stopped responding to Jensen's goads about a month ago, which is a bit of a shame as there'd been at least three rounds of argument sex that made it all worth it. Now he just slips his hand up the leg of Jensen's pants, scratches over his calf and then strokes the skin behind his knee.
Jensen twitches. "That tickles."
Jeff pulls Jensen's foot from under his leg and places it in his lap. Jensen tries to jerk it back, his instinctive reaction to someone touching his feet, but Jeff has a firm grip on his ankle. All he has to do is press his thumb into the arch and the fight goes out of Jensen entirely.
"So I was thinking," Jeff says as he works out any knots or cramps that might ever think of taking up residence in Jensen's foot.
"Naw, baby. What'd I tell you 'bout doin' that?" Jensen's voice is both accented and a little slurred in a way he can't help when he's drunk or this relaxed. Jeff always gives him a foot rub when he feels like he needs to convince Jensen of something. Last time it was trying sushi. Jensen's not sure if he does it intentionally or subconsciously, but he's not about to point it out. Nor is he going to point out the fact that nothing Jeff has done this for so far has required actual cajoling.
"I was thinking we should have a cookout for Labor Day. Invite some people over." Jeff pauses, smoothing his thumb lightly over the curve of Jensen's big toe.
"Like a party?"
"Yeah, like a party, smartass." Jeff actually sounds mildly irritated and Jensen realizes what he's actually asking. Sometimes the massage has the unintended consequence of making Jensen a little bit addled.
"What kind of meat foods are we talking for this shindig?" This party where Jensen would be meeting a bunch of Jeff's friends. At least, he assumes that's what's happening here. He pulls his other foot out from beneath Jeff's leg and plops it in his lap. When he cracks his eyes open, Jeff is smiling again. "I mean, are we talking steaks, or just hot dogs and burgers? Chicken? Ribs? These are important details."
"Does that mean you like the idea?" Jeff moves to his other foot and Jensen groans and settles a little deeper into the couch.
"So long as we have the right menu. I mean, you've got that sexy new grill and all. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste." He grins. "I can invite Misha, right?"
"You can invite whoever you want."
"Awesome. Misha'll make me look good by comparison."
Jeff grabs Jensen's leg and pushes it behind him. Jensen opens his eyes when he feels Jeff turning and slides down lower as Jeff crawls onto the couch and covers Jensen's body with his own. "Sweetheart," he says, brushing a kiss over Jensen's mouth when he smiles. "You don't need anyone else to make you look good."
"Does this mean baseball's over for tonight?" Jensen's dick is already hard from the weight of Jeff's body pressing his thighs open.
"They were losing anyway," Jeff says philosophically.
About thirty people turn out for the party and the weather is mostly cooperative. The bulk of the guests are people Jensen hasn't met yet. The few months that he and Jeff have been dating haven't exactly been filled with a whole lot of group activities.
Some of his own friends are here, but most of them had other parties to attend for their one last hurrah of summer. Misha and Clare were among the first to arrive, however, which goes a long way in calming Jensen down. He doesn't want to make a complete idiot out of himself in front of Jeff's friends.
As it is, he's spent the past half hour watching the battle of wits between Misha and Jeff's friend, Jim. He has never seen anyone put Misha in his place quite so handily. Jensen is a fan.
"Quit your smirking," Misha says. "Do your hostly duties and fetch me another beer."
"Only because I need one myself." Jensen stands. "Clare? Jim?" They both shake their heads. When Jensen gets to the cooler, he finds it empty, so he walks into the house to grab some bottles from the fridge. He pauses in the doorway to crouch down and scratch behind Bisou's ears. She's been wandering in and out of the house all afternoon, not quite fretful, but seemingly at a loss as to what to do with this many people in her territory.
He's about to walk into the kitchen when he hears a woman say, "Seriously, Jeff. What's with Boy Wonder out there?"
Jensen stops short, his stomach twisting with embarrassment.
"Don't sugarcoat it, Traci. How do you really feel?" Jeff asks sardonically.
"Oh come on. Come on! Granted, he's pretty. I'm not arguing that. But—"
"Don't." There's a definite warning in Jeff's tone.
"You need someone with a little more substance," she finishes.
"You think the fact that he's attractive means he has no substance?"
"No, but I think the fact that he's nineteen does."
"He's not nineteen, Traci. Jesus. Give me a little credit."
He should leave. Jensen knows that he should turn around and walk back out of the house. It's not like he's unaware of the age difference, he half-expected this from someone. He just didn't expect it to make him feel quite this foolish.
Traci sighs. "I thought that after Tom, maybe you would quit chasing barely legal tail."
There's a long pause, long enough for Jensen to leave, but he doesn't. Instead he wonders who Tom is.
"Jensen isn't Tom," Jeff says finally.
"No, he's younger and prettier."
"Look. I know you enjoy busting my balls and I know you're trying to look out for me, but this isn't like Tom. If you'd bothered to get to know him at all before pitching a fit, you'd realize that." There's another pause and then Jeff adds, "I appreciate your concern, but you talk about him like that again and the conversation will be much less friendly."
"I'm sorry," Traci says quietly. "I'm just worried that this gorgeous kid is going to break your stupid heart all over again."
"Yeah, well, if he does it's my own stupid fault, isn't it?"
"You really like him."
Jensen leaves the house before he can hear Jeff's answer. He finds Misha standing alone with his back to the fence, surveying the yard like he's making profound sociological observations. It's one of those Misha habits that Jensen has gotten fairly used to, which doesn't mean that it's any less worrisome when he catches him at it.
"Where's my beer?" Misha asks when Jensen walks up.
"Who's Tom?"
Misha scratches his chin and tilts his head, squinting at Jensen. "I'm guessing by the question that you already have a fairly accurate idea."
"Come on, man. Save your obfuscating and just give me a straight answer, please."
"Tom is Jeff's ex, but you knew that so why don't you ask me what you really want to know." Misha sounds mildly irritated, which Jensen supposes he deserves.
"Sorry. Just." Jensen sighs and looks around. Jeff is back outside, talking to Allison, the girl who's been interning for him over the summer. "What's the story there?"
"Jensen, come on," Misha says. "It's not my story to tell. If you want to know something, ask him." Misha gives him a considering look. "Do you trust him?"
"Yeah," Jensen says automatically. He stops and thinks about it and realizes that it's actually true. "Yeah, I trust him."
"Okay." Misha nods, apparently satisfied. "What I know is that Jeff and Tom dated for awhile, broke up about a year ago. You're the first guy Jeff has actually dated since then, so if you want to know anything else, talk to Jeff."
"You're right. Thanks." Jensen blows out a breath and tries to ignore how idiotic he feels. Stupid and young—it's not a pleasant sensation.
"Of course. Now go get me my beer," Misha tells him.
It's after ten by the time everyone leaves and Jensen is unreasonably exhausted. He locks the front door and then walks into the kitchen where Jeff is finishing up the dishes.
"I'd say that was a success," Jeff says as Jensen grabs the last beer from the fridge. He's been maintaining a steady buzz all afternoon and he's glad he talked Jeff into having the party on Sunday instead of Labor Day itself. He's totally sleeping in tomorrow.
"For the most part." Jensen takes a long swig of beer in an effort to man-up. He swallows around the lump in his throat and sighs. "I, um. I overheard your conversation with Traci earlier." He darts a glance at Jeff and then looks back down at his bottle. "I didn't really intend to eavesdrop, but." He shrugs.
"I'm sorry."
Jensen looks up, surprised. "What? No, I wasn't—You don't have anything to apologize for. I just didn't want to keep that from you. Because I was listening. So I should be the one apologizing, really."
"Jensen." Jeff dries his hands and then hooks his finger in Jensen's belt loop and tugs him closer. "Traci is a good friend, but she was out of line and I'm sorry you heard her being an idiot." He presses his forehead against Jensen's and brings his hand up, traces his thumb along Jensen's jaw.
"S'okay. I talked to her later and I'm pretty sure she doesn't still think I'm some sort of vacuous tramp." Jensen is weirdly nervous, can feel his pulse thudding in his throat and he wants to take a step back, break the tension with something meaningless. Instead he takes another deep breath, tries to smile but only manages a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I really kind of like you."
It's a stupid statement, but Jensen feels terribly exposed. His nerves are more touchy than he'd like to admit from Traci's comments and he just threw down the verbal equivalent of passing a note that reads do you like me? y/n circle one
"I really kind of like you too." There isn't any mockery in Jeff's voice that Jensen can find and he relaxes as Jeff strokes his thumb over Jensen's bottom lip, then moves his hand down over his throat. "Do we need to have The Conversation?"
"The Conversation?" Jensen opens his eyes, confused. "About what?"
"About how neither one of us wants to see other people."
Jensen pulls back a little. "I haven't slept with anyone else since we started dating," he says. True, they hadn't had a conversation about it, but Jensen assumed that was the case for both of them.
"I know you haven't." Jeff tugs him back into the circle of his arms. "I haven't either. I just thought that maybe we should say so explicitly."
"Oh." Jensen relaxes against Jeff's body and presses his cheek against Jeff's like they're dancing. He feels happy and a little embarrassed and he doesn't want Jeff to see his face when he says, "I don't want to see other people."
"Good." Jeff's voice sounds low and smug in his ear.
"Good." Jensen nods and moves back so that he's looking Jeff in the eye. "I trust you," he says. It feels huge and important, but he's not sure how to convey that. Jensen doesn't trust many people
"I trust you too, kid." Jeff says 'kid' like an endearment and he kisses Jensen like he knows just how significant the trust thing is.
Jensen never gets around to asking about Tom.
In October, Jensen finally breaks down and gets a cell phone. There are a lot of reasons to justify it, but mostly he's prompted by the fact that he's been spending so much time at Jeff's that he keeps missing his mom's calls. She stopped calling about two weeks ago with a message that he should just call her when he has time. Jensen can't shake the guilt on that one.
He hasn't told his family that he's seeing anyone. If the whole dating another guy thing weren't enough, he's sure the age difference would be. It's a conversation he doesn't want to have, so he doesn't bring it up. It's one of the benefits of living halfway across the country. His momma can't make him feel guilty about it if she doesn't know about it.
Saturday morning he's up early enough that it's still mostly dark outside. He gets out of bed as quietly as possible and closes the bedroom door behind him, leaving it open a crack so that Bisou can get in and out. She is very opposed to being shut out of a room, whether or not she actually has any interest in going in there.
Jensen starts the coffee and waits until he has a cup in front of him before he finally dials his parents' house. They're two hours ahead of him, so he's sure they're up by now. "Hey, Momma," he says when she answers.
"Jensen!" The fact that she sounds so genuinely happy to hear from him makes him feel that much worse.
From there, the first part of the conversation is pretty effortless. She fills him in on what everyone has been up to, including his dad, his brother, his sister, the neighbors, his cousins and his high school principal who she happened to run into at the grocery store last week.
It's both comforting and sad at the same time. To hear about everyone he's known all his life, those things that were home for so long and now he just feels detached. There's a huge gap there and Jensen has no idea how to bridge it or if he even wants to. Not when he's the one who worked so hard to create it in the first place.
When his mom is done with her report, Jensen fills her in on what he can. How his job is going, the weather. Then he says, "I don't, uh. I don't know that I'll be able to make it down for Thanksgiving this year. With work and everything..." He trails off and clears his throat. "I'll still be down for Christmas, of course."
"Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. It's a long way to come for a weekend." His mom sighs and Jensen can picture her expression, the worried little frown and the crease between her eyes. "Do you have somewhere to go?"
And here Jensen thought he couldn't feel lower. "Yeah. Um, you know Misha?"
"Yes," his mom says dryly. "Misha and I have become good friends."
Jensen winces at that. Misha has been talking to her a lot more than he has lately. "Well, his girlfriend's parents live up in Bellingham and they invited all of us up there. I guess Misha wants me to come to take some of the focus off of him."
Which isn't actually a lie. Whenever Jensen asks about it, though, Misha shakes his head and says, "Just wait." It's a little foreboding.
"That's good. I'm glad you have somewhere to go. I'd hate to think of you sitting up there alone all weekend."
She means that, Jensen knows, and he feels like an utter asshole for it. So he changes the subject to football and the conversation dies a quiet death a few minutes later. When Jensen hangs up, he's not sure if he feels better or worse than he did before. He wonders if there will ever be a time when he stops feeling like such a complete disappointment, or, if not, a time when he'll stop caring that he is.
When Jeff comes down about an hour later, he takes one look at Jensen and chuckles as he pours his coffee. "Why do you look like you look like you've had a day already?"
"I talked to my mom." Jensen rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Told her I wasn't coming down for Thanksgiving."
Jeff's response is a moment too long in coming. "When did you decide that?" he asks casually as he pours milk into his cup.
"Uh, I've been thinking about it for awhile. Misha wants me to go with him to Clare's. Possibly as a sacrificial offering. I'm not too clear on the details." He smiles down at his hands. "I'm not waiting for an invite from you if that's what you're worried about."
"Jensen." Jeff groans and walks over to him, pulls him out of his seat and into his arms. "I want to. I just—"
"Don't know how to break it to your parents that your boyfriend is way out of your league? Seriously, I'm not angling for anything here, I just didn't want to go home." Jensen grins and wraps his arms around Jeff's waist. "Though if you're so overcome with guilt that you feel the need to make it up to me, I have a few ideas."
"You are definitely out of my league." Jeff kisses him, still all minty fresh from brushing his teeth.
"Damn straight." Jensen's really not offended. He hasn't even told his parents about Jeff, so he doesn't have a leg to stand on in that department. But Jeff is kissing down his neck, one hand already under Jensen's t-shirt so he's not overly motivated to reassure Jeff too much at the moment.
It's the first Thanksgiving Jensen hasn't gone home for and he feels a little weird spending it with people he doesn't know but, if nothing else, Misha seems grateful for his company. Clare keeps calling Misha a pussy.
"Just wait," Misha says.
"They're not that bad," Clare says in response. "Honestly, I don't know what you're problem is. They like you."
Jensen hasn't ever stopped in Bellingham, though he's been through it a few times when he was in school and his friends dragged him up to Canada to take advantage of the lower drinking age. It's a beautiful city full of rich people, very rich people, and college students. Judging by the house, Clare's parents fall in the 'very rich' end of things.
"How many people live here?" Jensen asks, openly gaping as Clare pulls in the driveway.
"My mom, my dad and my sister. But my sister is doing an overseas exchange program this semester, so she won't be here."
Her parents come out to greet them as they get out of the car and they're easily as attractive as Jensen was expecting. Her mom is tiny, smaller than Clare with short brown hair and warm, pixieish features. Her dad is at least an inch taller than Jensen with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders and an imposing sort of presence that is in direct contrast to his wife's laugh-lines and open smile. He's an environmental lawyer, which doesn't surprise Jensen in the least.
"Her mom teaches Pilates on the weekends," Misha whispers as they greet Clare.
Which explains quite a bit about Clare, really.
"Jensen!" Her mom is the first to greet him with a surprisingly strong hug. "I'm so glad you could join us! We've heard so much about you!"
"Thank you, ma'am," Jensen says when she lets him go. "I appreciate the invitation."
"Of course! You're welcome any time! And please, call me Veronica." She's like a tiny little bundle of enthusiasm and Jensen finds himself smiling in response. "Misha!"
"Veronica, you get lovelier every time I see you." Misha manages to kiss the back of her hand before she pulls him into a hug.
"Always so charming," she says, laughing. "I'd buy it if I didn't know any better."
"Jensen." Clare's dad greets him with a handshake.
"Sir, thank you for having me," Jensen says.
"Good handshake." He nods at Jensen again and turns to Misha. He doesn't tell Jensen to just call him Steve.
"It takes Dad a little while to warm up to people," Clare whispers. She slings an arm around Jensen's waist and smiles up at him. "I'm glad you're here."
"Yeah." Jensen squeezes her up against him as Misha makes stilted, awkward conversation with Clare's dad and smiles. "I'm glad I'm here, too."
Twenty minutes into the meal, Clare and her dad get into a political debate that Jensen tries like hell to stay out of. He's found that when people hear he's from Texas they feel as though he should personally answer for the clusterfuck that is currently passing for the presidential election. As far as he can tell, though, Clare agrees with her dad completely and is simply enjoying playing the devil's advocate.
"Don't mind them," Veronica says. "They always do this."
Jensen smiles and tries to not look as uncomfortable as he feels.
"So, Clare tells me you've been dating Jeff Morgan." Veronica smiles like that's the most wonderful thing she's ever heard. "He's a very charming man. Incredibly handsome."
"Yeah." Jensen glances at Misha, who is staring resolutely at his food. "Yeah. I'm pretty fond of him."
"He's quite a bit older than you, isn't he?"
"Um, I guess. Twelve years. It doesn't—" Jensen stammers, nonplussed.
Veronica laughs and pats his hand. "Steve and I are ten years apart." She gets a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes, leans forward and whispers, "How's the sex?"
"What?" Jensen asks, loud enough that Clare and her dad stop arguing completely. Misha is still looking at his plate, smiling and nodding like he is not at all surprised. Jensen wants to kick him, but he's too far away to reach. "Uh. Good. It's good." He says it low enough that only Veronica can hear him and, thankfully, Clare and her dad start arguing again a moment later.
"That's good. It's very important to have a healthy sexual rapport. Right, Misha?"
"As always, I remain incredibly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, Mrs. Rogers," Misha says, maintaining eye contact with his mashed potatoes.
"Oh, Misha." Veronica smiles at him fondly. "He calls me Mrs. Rogers when I make him uncomfortable. It's sweet," she tells Jensen.
"You know, I just realized I should give my parents a call before it gets too late there," Jensen says, pushing away from the table. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of it sooner."
"Oh, sure. Go on ahead," Veronica says, waving her hand.
Misha shoots him a look that teeters between betrayal and amusement. Jensen thinks that at this point, he owes Misha nothing.
It speaks to Jensen's level of discomfort that, between his parents and his siblings, he manages to stay on the phone for an hour before returning to the table.
"Are you sure you don't need me to take you to the airport?" Jeff asks as Jensen checks to make sure he has everything he needs out of the bathroom. The rest of his stuff is packed at home, but most of Jensen's crucial toiletries are at Jeff's.
"I'm sure. It's an early flight and Misha owes me a four a.m. ride to the airport from here to eternity." Satisfied that he's not missing anything he turns back to Jeff and allows himself a kiss. "Try not to be too miserable while I'm gone." No matter how Jensen tried to arrange it, he couldn't manage to make his trip home shorter than ten days.
"Hmmm." Jeff pulls Jensen in for another kiss and refuses to let him go. "You can still stay here tonight. Misha can pick you up from my place."
"I can't." Jensen smiles as Jeff starts walking them towards the bed. "I'll get no sleep if I stay here."
"You can sleep on the plane." Jeff works the fly of Jensen's jeans open. "Get one of those eye masks, a little pillow..."
Jensen laughs and then gasps as Jeff rubs him through his boxers. "I should be well-rested and, fuck, okay. Keep doing that." He anchors himself with an arm around Jeff's shoulders and arches into his hand. "Gonna miss me, huh?"
"Sweetheart, I already miss you." Jeff scrapes his teeth over the curve of Jensen's neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make Jensen shudder. "Gotta leave me with something good to go on while you're gone, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen says and then yelps when Jeff shoves him onto the bed. He gives up all pretenses of going back to his place any time soon.
Jensen's flight gets into Seattle at six o'clock on New Year's Eve and he's completely exhausted by the time his plane touches down. He feels wrung out and antsy, both from ten days with his family and the fact that he hasn't talked to Jeff since he left. Jeff only called two times while Jensen was gone and Jensen missed both calls. When he tried to call him back, it went to voicemail.
It's not a big deal. Jensen is not so codependent that he can't go a week without talking to his boyfriend, but he knows he'll feel better once he sees him again. He's pretty sure that's how it's supposed to be when you're in a relationship, anyway.
Everyone jumps up as soon as the fasten seatbelt sign flashes off and Jensen rests his head against the side of the plane and looks out the window. His seat is all the way in the back and it'll take at least twenty minutes before everyone ahead of him is out. He sincerely hopes Misha remembered that he's supposed to pick Jensen up. Jensen doesn't want to pay for a cab trip from SEATAC to Fremont. All he wants to do is get home, take a shower and then go to Jeff's.
Jensen gets up as soon as the plane clears out enough that the guy next to him can stand in the aisle. His legs hurt from being cramped up for that long and he's got a kink in his neck. Sometimes he fantasizes about the day that he might be able to afford business class tickets. When the people in front of him start to move, Jensen shoulders his backpack, relieved to be on his way out of the stale, recycled air.
There are only a few people still milling around the gate area as Jensen scans the crowd for Misha, but it's Jeff he finds standing there, holding up a piece of paper that reads, Ackles. Somehow Jensen manages not to sprint to him, but it's a near thing.
"Your regular driver couldn't make it," Jeff says with a smile. "The agency sent me instead."
"Remind me to thank them." Jensen drops his backpack at their feet and pulls Jeff into a hug.
Jeff wraps his arms around Jensen and squeezes tight, kisses his cheek and whispers, "Hey there. Long time no see."
More than anything, Jensen wants to kiss him breathless. Wrap himself around Jeff and go at it until their lips are numb. As it is, they've probably been hugging longer than they should, so he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Hi," he says, rocking back on his feet. He can't stop smiling.
"Hi." Jeff laughs and twitches like he wants to grab Jensen again. He runs his hand through his hair instead. "It's good to see you, kid." He bends down and grabs Jensen's backpack, wraps his other arm companionably around Jensen's shoulders. "Let's go see about your luggage, huh? Get the hell out of here?"
"God yes," Jensen says. They walk along like that for awhile, bumping against each other until they reach the escalators.
By the time they get down there and Jensen hits the bathroom, the wait for his bags isn't too bad. It is just long enough that the immediacy of Jeff's presence has worn off and Jensen's fatigue hits him anew. He stifles another yawn and tries not to sway as the red light on top of the carousel starts flashing.
"So Misha said something about a party?" Jeff looks at Jensen out of the corner of his eyes, smiling.
Jensen groans. "Tell me you don't want to go to a party tonight."
"I don't want to go to a party tonight." Jeff winks at him. "I thought I'd take you back to my place, go pick up some Chinese food and we can have dinner and watch Dick Clark until we fall asleep on the couch like the old men we are."
"Sounds perfect," Jensen says sincerely.
Once they've secured Jensen's bags and they make it to the Blazer, Jeff unlocks the passenger door so that Jensen can get in while he loads the luggage in the back. Jensen is grateful as he slides into the car and closes his eyes. He feels like he could sleep for a week. He doesn't even bother to look when Jeff climbs onto the driver's seat and shuts the door.
"Hey." Jeff cups the side of Jensen's face and brushes his thumb over his cheek. "Christ, you look exhausted."
"I haven't been sleeping well." It took Jensen three nights to realize that he wasn't used to sleeping alone anymore. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, wondering where Jeff was before he remembered. He opens his eyes and looks over to find Jeff watching him. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." Jeff leans in and kisses Jensen lightly before dropping his hand and starting the car.
Jensen smiles and settles back, his eyes sliding closed again as they exit the garage. He idly listens as Jeff pays the parking attendant, his mind already drifting as the heat from the vents hits him full blast. He's nearly asleep as they pull onto the freeway when Jeff grabs his hand from where it's resting against his leg and laces their fingers together.
For a moment Jensen's chest feels too tight, happiness like a physical thing pushing inside of him, too big to contain. He smiles and squeezes Jeff's hand, the rumble of the car as they drive along lulling him to sleep.
It's good to be home.
True to his word, Jeff drops Jensen off at the house and goes to get them dinner, giving Jensen the opportunity to peel his contacts out of his eyes and shower a day's worth of traveling away. The water pressure isn't enough to work out the kink in his neck, but the heat goes a long way in helping to loosen the rest of his muscles.
He finds his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants amongst the clean laundry Jeff has yet to put away and pulls out one of Jeff's undershirts. Jeff's black hoodie is hanging on the door, so Jensen grabs that as well since his favorite sweatshirt is still in his luggage.
Jeff is just coming in the door with the food as Jensen jogs downstairs. "My hero," Jensen says as Jeff sets the takeout bags on the counter.
"I live to serve." He turns and catches Jensen's hips, tugs him close. "Welcome home." Then Jeff kisses him like Jensen wanted to at the airport, tongues and teeth and Jeff's body pressed up against his everywhere.
Jensen is ready to suggest that they move it upstairs when his stomach rumbles loudly, effectively, if momentarily, killing the mood.
"I see where I rate." Jeff laughs and takes a step back.
"Sorry." Jensen sighs and drops his head against Jeff's chest. "The first leg of my flight was late, so my layover was too short for me to get anything to eat. The last thing I had was the peanut butter sandwich my mom packed me and that was at least six hours ago."
"Well then, let's get you fed." Jeff slips his hand underneath Jensen's shirt and rubs his tummy, making Jensen laugh and squirm away.
They take the food out into the living room and eat out of the cartons on the couch. Jensen is too tired to battle with the chopsticks, so he uses a fork, eating until he feels disgustingly full.
"Better?" Jeff asks as Jensen leans forward and sets the empty General Tso's container on the coffee table.
"I don't know about better." Jensen sinks back into the couch and pats his stomach gently. He kind of feels like puking now. "Different anyway."
"Glutton," Jeff says fondly. "You're of no use to me when you're that full."
Jensen grins at him. "Give me half an hour." He squeezes the back of his neck and winces.
Jeff watches him for a moment and then sets his food aside, pushing the coffee table further out. "Come on. On the floor."
"I really don't think—"
"For a neck rub, you ass."
"Oh." Jensen gives him a sheepish grin and manages to get down on the floor without disturbing his stomach too much. He shrugs the hoodie off and leans forward, looping his arms around his bent knees. Jeff starts at the base of his skull and works his way down, thumbs on either side of Jensen's spine. "You're really good at this," Jensen says as Jeff works out what's left of his holiday tension.
"And you're all wound up."
"Yeah. Ten days with my family and we ran out of conversation topics halfway through the first." Jensen sucks in a breath when Jeff hits a particularly sore spot. "Spent a lot of time making small talk with my dad and brother over football while my mom and sister talked in the kitchen and fed us endlessly."
"That bad, huh?" Jeff lays his palms flat for a moment, rubbing small circles over Jensen's back.
Jensen shrugs. "Could've been worse."
Once Jeff's worked his way down the length of Jensen's spine, he moves his hands back up to work the knots out of his shoulders. It's so good Jensen wants to whimper, he feels warm and lazy, sapped of the ability to do anything but enjoy the pleasure of Jeff's hands. "God, I love you," he says without thinking. It's no more than what he would say to Clare under the same circumstances. Jensen is a sucker for a good backrub.
It takes a moment for him to connect his words with the fact that Jeff's hands have stopped moving. He swallows thickly, loud enough that he's sure Jeff hears it, then wiggles around under the weight of Jeff's palms. "Massage-in-progress," he says lightly. "What gives?"
Jeff doesn't answer, he only smoothes his fingers against the nape of Jensen's neck before moving his hands to Jensen's shoulders again, working over Jensen's back for long enough that Jensen ends up feeling like a warm ball of putty and the incident is mostly forgotten. Afterward, he crawls back onto the couch and lays down, his head in Jeff's lap. He laughs when he realizes that the TV is actually tuned to the Dick Clark special.
"Are we really watching this?" he asks as Jeff strokes his fingers through Jensen's hair, very nearly petting him.
"Show some respect for the classics."
"Yeah, okay," Jensen says around a yawn. He closes his eyes to rest for a few minutes before he pulls Jeff upstairs to have his wicked way with him. That's his intention, anyway.
"Jensen. Come on, sweetheart. Time to go to bed." Jeff is gently shaking his shoulder.
"Hmmm?" Jensen blinks his eyes open. His glasses are gone and he can only make out blurs in front of him. "What time is it?" Then he hears the countdown. Ten, nine, eight…
He struggles to sit up, manages to locate his glasses and put them on just as the people in Times Square start singing Auld Lang Syne.
"Happy New Year," Jeff says and then kisses him quickly while Jensen is still trying to figure out what's going on.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?"
"You needed it. Besides." Jeff grins. "I may have fallen asleep for awhile there myself."
Jensen laughs as he stands and stretches, his back popping loudly. "Did we really spend the evening sleeping on the couch?"
"It would seem that way." Jeff wraps his arms around Jensen from behind and kisses his neck. "And now we're going to bed."
They clear the food containers off the coffee table and put the leftovers away before heading upstairs. Jensen brushes his teeth while Jeff changes and then lets Jeff have the bathroom.
He's almost asleep again when Jeff slips into bed and presses up against his back, pulling him close. "Hey, Jensen?"
"Hmm?"
There's a long pause and then Jeff finally whispers, "Me too."
Jensen falls asleep before he can puzzle out what that means.
Next
It's nice enough outside that Jensen decides to take a circuitous route on his walk to Jeff's, if for no other reason than it will give him time to deal with the twist of anticipation snaking through him. Third date, dinner at Jeff's house. If Jensen doesn't get laid tonight he might actually cry.
From the outside, Jeff's house is nice— two stories, canary yellow with white trim and a dark red door. There's a Harley sitting out front, sleek and pretty in the late afternoon sun. Jensen lets out a low whistle. Not that he's really a bike guy, but he can appreciate the blatant sex-appeal. He's a few minutes early, but he can't bring himself to do another lap around the block, so he takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell.
When Jeff opens the door, he's wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Hey," he says with that warm, pleased smile that makes Jensen's stomach flip.
"Hey." Jensen has to stick his hands in his pockets to keep from pawing at him straight off the bat. "That your bike?" he asks, nodding at the Harley.
"Yeah, shit. I should put that away." Jeff tucks the end of the dishtowel into his back pocket and brushes past Jensen on his way out the door. "Had to make a last-minute run to QFC."
"Uh huh," Jensen says, leaning against the doorjamb. "Admit it, you left it out to impress me."
Jeff tilts his head at him, squinting one eye against the sunlight. "Did it work?"
"Absolutely," Jensen says with a grin. But totally unnecessary, he thinks. I already wanted to fuck you.
"I'll take you out sometime."
Jensen wonders if Jeff works on making things sound that dirty, or if his mind is just so one-track at the moment that he's reading into everything. Before he can respond, something bumps against his leg. When he looks down, there's a dog sitting at his feet, its attention swinging between him and Jeff.
"That's my best girl, Bisou," Jeff says, wheeling the bike up the gravel drive. "You can go on in, I'll be there in a second."
"Sure." Jensen goes inside and closes the door behind him. He feels a little weird about exploring when Jeff's not there, so he kneels down and holds his hand out to the dog. She sniffs him tentatively and then scoots a little closer. "Hey there," Jensen says softly. By her coloring, he guesses she's part Rottweiler, but she seems about as fierce as a fluffy bunny.
Jensen pets her head softly, then scratches behind her ears. Her tail thumps against the hardwood floor as she scoots closer to him, twisting around so that her back is pressed against his legs. "Aren't you a sweet girl?" Jensen reaches down to pat her chest and tummy and she wiggles a little closer and tilts her head back to look up at him adoringly.
"You know she's in doggy heaven right now." Jensen looks up to find Jeff leaning against the wall watching him. "Back door," he says by way of an explanation.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be a little bit jealous." Jeff walks over to them and squats down. "Can't believe I was thrown over so easily." He reaches out and strokes over Bisou's nose. "I don't blame you, girl. I would throw me over for him too." When he looks back up, Jensen feels it like a full-body caress. "Hungry?"
Jensen nods and watches stupidly as Jeff straightens and turns back toward the kitchen.
Dinner is delicious, smoked salmon with wild rice and a mixed green salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dressing. Jensen is pleased to note that the entire meal is void of onions and garlic. He takes small sips of his wine in between bites, hoping that he's not too conspicuous in how little he cares for it. Red wine is something he's not yet developed a taste for and it makes him feel uncultured.
They make small talk, but Jensen keeps losing track of the conversation. He'll find himself zoning out on the taper of Jeff's fingers or the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. Jeff doesn't say anything, but Jensen is sure he notices. How could he not? Jensen is doing everything short of panting at him and humping his leg. It would be embarrassing, but every so often Jeff will do something, shift in his seat, or his gaze will flick down to Jensen's mouth and Jensen's pretty sure they're on the same chapter, if not the exact page.
Jeff turns down his offer to help with dishes. "There's beer in the fridge," he says and Jensen gives him a grateful smile.
"You're a prince." There's an empty space on the counter next to the sink, and Jensen pushes himself up so that he can sit and watch Jeff work. "No gloves?" he asks as Jeff washes the first plate. "That'll ruin your manicure for sure."
"Smartass." Jeff raises his hands and flicks soapy water at Jensen. "So, I have a confession to make," Jeff says as Jensen wipes bubbles off his cheek.
"Yeah?" It's an ominous sort of statement and Jensen finds himself tensing in anticipation.
"I asked Misha about you. Before we met." Jeff glances up at him and then returns his focus to the dishes. "Saw you leaving the house a couple of times on my way to work. Maneuvered my way into an introduction."
"Yeah?" Jensen says again, unable to hide his smile.
Jeff looks up at him and laughs. "You shouldn't look so pleased. I just wanted you to know what sort of creep you're getting involved with."
"I'm okay with it." Jensen hops off the counter. "Bathroom?" He needs a moment to regroup and wait for the urge to do a you think I'm hot happy dance to pass.
"Down the hall, first door on your left."
Jensen rids himself of the wine and beer and washes his hands. He presses his wet palms against his cheeks and the back of his neck and takes a deep breath, looks at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed from the wine and he's still grinning like an idiot, but he's glad to see that he doesn't look nearly as desperate as he feels.
"Help yourself to another beer if you want," Jeff says when Jensen gets back to the kitchen. "I was thinking we could watch a movie or something." He tosses the towel he was using onto the counter and winks at Jensen. "Be right back."
Watch a movie? Was he joking? Jensen hops back up on the counter and picks up his beer, finishing it off in one long swig. He doesn't bother to get another, idly picking at the label on his empty bottle as he waits for Jeff to return.
Bisou wanders into the kitchen, her nose to the ground in search of stray bits of food. She stops in front of Jensen to smell his shoe.
"What do you think, Bisou?" Jensen asks her. "Am I gonna get lucky tonight?"
"Dogs are notoriously unreliable about these things."
Jensen starts and looks up to see Jeff smiling at him. He shrugs. "Figured it'd be less embarrassing to ask her."
"How'd that work out for you?"
"Not the way I'd anticipated," Jensen admits. "You weren't serious about the movie, were you?"
Jeff leans against the counter across from Jensen and crosses his arms over his chest. "Not a movie fan?" he finally asks.
"God." Jensen drops his head down, looks up at Jeff thorough his bangs. "You're killing me, man. Seriously. A guy's got needs."
"I think you'll survive," Jeff says, but he pushes away from the counter with his hips and steps closer, into the space between Jensen's spread legs.
"You have no proof of that." Jensen's breath hitches as Jeff uncrosses his arms and settles his palms high on Jensen's thighs. He sets his bottle aside and leans back on his hands, spreading himself out for Jeff's perusal. "C'mon. Don't make me beg." He bites his bottom lip and grins. "Or, y'know. Make me beg. Just not quite this early in the proceedings."
"Christ, kid." Jeff makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. "You could tempt a monk."
Jensen splays his thighs a little wider and tilts his head. "You're not a monk, Jeff."
By the time they make it to the bedroom, Jensen's shirt and shoes and right sock are gone. His left sock is still there, but he's more worried about getting out of his jeans. Jeff isn't watching him at the moment. He's stripping out of his own clothes in quick, perfunctory movements that probably shouldn't be as hot as they are.
"Bed," Jeff says as soon as Jensen's naked and Jensen scrambles to comply.
The duvet cover is soft beneath Jensen's back and for a moment he wonders if he should have stopped to pull it back, but Jeff doesn't seem to mind. Once he's naked, he stands there staring at Jensen for an impossibly long moment before smiling and leaning over. He runs his hand down Jensen's side, then reaches to tug off Jensen's errant sock.
Jensen flushes. He'd forgotten about that.
"You're about the prettiest fucking thing I've seen in my life." Jeff kneels onto the bed and Jensen automatically spreads his thighs wide to make room, groans at the feel of Jeff's bare skin.
Jeff kisses him, slow and long as Jensen writhes against him, like he has none of Jensen's sense of urgency. Jensen skitters his hands over Jeff's shoulders, down his back— thick, corded muscle— and thinks he could get off on the feel of Jeff's body alone. He is big everywhere, solid and huge. While Jensen has never considered himself as having a size kink, he can't deny how hot it is to feel this small under someone.
"I'm gonna fuck you," Jeff whispers against Jensen's mouth. He pulls back and looks down at Jensen. "That good with you?"
"Yeah." Jensen nods, quick, jerky movements because fuck, yeah. He takes a deep breath as Jeff sits up and leans over to grab a bottle of lube off the nightstand.
"You've done this before, right?" Jeff sits back on his heels and flips open the lid to the bottle.
Jensen nods again. "Been awhile." Which is one of the more ludicrous understatements he's ever made. It's been so long that there is the very real risk of Jensen losing it completely and begging Jeff to fucking get to it already.
"I'll go slow." The amusement in Jeff's voice makes Jensen think that he's aware of how on-edge Jensen is. He runs a slick finger between Jensen's cheeks, too light and teasing. Jensen reaches down and grabs behind his knees to hold himself open, give Jeff better access. "Good boy," Jeff says as he slides his finger into Jensen's body.
Heat surges through Jensen and he's not sure if it's in response to Jeff's touch or his words. He thumps his head down and stares at the ceiling, refrains just barely from blatantly fucking himself back onto Jeff's hand when he adds another finger. The only thing he can hear is the sound of his own breathing, harsh, loud panting noises that echo in his ears as Jeff works him open. It's too slow, too much, too good and far too long before Jeff pulls his hand away, leaves Jensen's body fluttering and clenching around nothing.
"Alright." Jeff moves back and slaps the side of Jensen's thigh. "Turn over for me, sweetheart. Next time I fuck you, I'll watch your pretty face. This time..." He trails off, leaving the lascivious tone of his voice fill in all the blanks.
Jensen feels shaky as he moves, wound up so tight he has trouble making his limbs work the way they should. He can't remember the last time he wanted something this bad. He finally manages to get his knees underneath him, settling on his elbows, ass in the air as blatant as he can possibly be.
"Good boy," Jeff says again, smoothing his hand down Jensen's side and Jensen's cock twitches in response. There's a rustling sound of the condom wrapper, then Jeff's hands are back on him, spreading Jensen's cheeks, a thumb rubbing over his hole. "Now what was that you said earlier about begging?"
Oh Jesus, Jensen thinks. "Please," he gets out. "Fuck. Please. Fuck me. Please." They're the only words he can think of as Jeff's thumb rubs over him, merciless teasing and Jensen is too hard and aching to think. "Jeff."
"Yeah, okay."
The tip of Jeff's thumb presses into Jensen's hole for just a moment and then it's gone. Replaced with the head of his cock and Jensen can't help the choked-off sob of relief that comes out of him.
"Relax for me, sweetheart." Jeff's hands settle on Jensen's hips. "I'll take care of you." He presses in slow and steady until his balls are resting against Jensen's ass.
Jensen nods, his head hanging between his shoulders, yes, yes, yes. He's unable to form words at the moment, can't manage anything beyond breathing with Jeff's cock so deep inside him. His entire body throbs with it, it's been so long and Jeff is huge, hard and splitting him open, holding him there as he tries to adjust.
When Jeff finally moves, it's a slow slide out, then in again with a little more force. Jensen grunts and braces himself as Jeff slides out again. "You good?"
"Yeah."
The next thrust is even harder, Jeff snapping his hips forward as he pulls Jensen back onto his cock and it's good, so fucking good, sending jolts of pleasure up Jensen's spine. Jensen nods helplessly, wanting more, just like that. He either says that out loud, or Jeff just gets it because he sets up a rhythm, fucking Jensen hard, skating on the right side of too much.
It makes Jensen feel strung-out. The harder Jeff fucks him the more he wants, pleasure thrumming through him, lighting him up every time Jeff sinks into his body. Jensen tries to press back, to beg with his movements when the words get stuck in his throat, but Jeff's grip on him is tight and he's unable to do anything other than exactly what Jeff wants him to do. Jensen has never been so hot in his life.
The second Jeff reaches around to touch him, it's over. One downward stroke on Jensen's cock and Jensen comes, shaking, a desperate, hurt noise spilling out of his mouth when Jeff continues to stroke him through it.
Jeff's rhythm hitches as he grabs Jensen's hip again, an odd, stuttered jolt. It's Jensen's only indication that Jeff is affected as he thrusts back in. A few more brutal strokes and then Jeff shudders against him, his fingers digging into Jensen's skin hard enough to really hurt, but Jensen is far beyond caring. He tries not whimper when Jeff finally slides out of him.
Jensen rolls onto his side when Jeff stands up. He's too blissed-out to bother paying attention as Jeff moves around the room, so he's startled at the feel of a wet cloth against his belly a minute later.
"Didn't mean to scare you."
"Ninja." Jensen grins and turns onto his back. He stretches lazily, allowing Jeff to wipe his skin clean.
"Sorry about that," Jeff says, and Jensen looks down to where his thumb is moving back and forth over the angry red marks on the skin over Jensen's hipbones. He doesn't look the least bit sorry. "You gonna stay the night?"
"Are you kidding me?" Jensen feels a warm, sated knot of pleasure in his stomach at the way Jeff's gaze sweeps over his body. "I don't think I'll be able to move for at least a day."
"Good." Jeff walks over to the corner of the room and tosses the washcloth into the hamper. "Everything I have in mind for the weekend requires you to stay right where you are."
Jensen has absolutely no problem with that.
An insistent knocking wakes Jensen, followed by the sound of the doorbell. Jeff's arm is wrapped around his waist and he smiles when Jeff grumbles something unintelligible against the back of his neck. Jensen cracks his eyes open to find that it is, in fact, morning, but he feels no need to be conscious yet.
The doorbell rings again and Jeff rolls away from him. "I'm going to go kill somebody now."
Jensen rolls over into the warm spot that Jeff just vacated and falls back asleep. When he wakes up again, it's because something's landed on top of his legs. He blinks his eyes open and sees Jeff standing at the foot of the bed in a pair of black sweat pants, the corners of his mouth pulled down like he's trying not to smile.
"I believe that's for you," Jeff says and then turns and heads into the bathroom.
The article in question is a familiar reusable grocery bag. Jensen grabs it and unknots the handles to look inside. It contains his contact stuff, the case and solution, his glasses, his toothbrush and toothpaste and at least a hundred condoms.
"I think Misha has an amazing amount of faith in our stamina," Jensen calls out, laughing. He slips out of bed and pulls on his boxers. As entirely inappropriate as Misha's gesture is, he's grateful to have the option of taking his contacts out. His eyes feel dry and scratchy.
Jeff is grinning and shaking his head when he comes out of the bathroom. "You tell him that if he ever again wakes me up this early on a weekend, I will make him regret it."
"Will do." Jensen goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. He takes a leak, washes his hands, takes out his contacts, brushes his teeth and feels about a thousand times better. "It's a good thing you already know my roommates," Jensen says as he walks back into the bedroom. Jeff is already back in bed. "Otherwise, that might have been awkward to explain." He stops short when he realizes Jeff is staring at him. "What?"
"Nothing." Jeff shakes his head. "I just, uh. I haven't seen the glasses before."
"Oh, yeah." Jensen rubs the back of his neck and feels stupidly slow when he realizes what Jeff's look actually means. "You like them." It isn't a question.
"I do." Jeff grins and crooks his finger at Jensen.
Jensen walks the rest of the way to the bed and climbs on, straddling Jeff's lap. "Yeah?" He leans down so he can kiss Jeff's neck. "Like a sexy librarian thing?"
"You're incorrigible." Jeff groans and runs his hands over Jensen's back as Jensen sucks kisses down his neck and chest.
"All part of my charm," Jensen says and continues kissing lower.
Toward the end of July, Dean "Call Me Sam" Ferris asks Jensen into her office after lunch, which doesn't seem like a good sign to Jensen. He's been temping there for a few months now and he figures this might be the end of his assignment, though he's not actually sure how long maternity leave lasts.
"You've been doing a good job here, Jensen," Sam says after he sits down. "How would you like to make it permanent?"
"I'm sorry?" Jensen has yet to get used to Sam's directness. It always seems to catch him off guard. "What about Janine?"
"Janine turned in her notice today. She's decided to stay home for a few years." Sam shrugs and spreads her hands as if to say, What are you going to do? "She's coming by later to clean out her desk. If you're interested, I'll talk to the agency about buying out the rest of your contract."
"Oh. Yeah. Yes, I'm definitely interested," Jensen says. He likes the job for the most part. It's nothing too difficult, but he stays busy enough to make the time pass and Sam is a decent boss. She treats him like a competent human being, which is more than Jensen can say for most of the jobs he's had.
"Good." Sam smiles. "I'll talk to the agency and let you know."
"Thank you."
Sam nods and turns back to her computer in the no-nonsense way she does everything and Jensen goes back to his desk and tries to focus on getting something done. It takes a little bit of effort on Fridays after lunch.
About an hour later a girl comes in wearing a long, flowing skirt and a peasant blouse with a baby strapped to her chest.
"You must be Janine," Jensen says.
"I am!" She smiles brightly at him. She has whiskey-colored eyes, dimples and freckles across the bridge of her nose. "You must be Jensen!"
"I am." Jensen suspects that between the freckles and dimples and the enthusiastic way she speaks, Janine charms almost everyone she meets. "And who is this?" he asks, coming around so that he can properly see the baby.
"This is David!" She makes a surprised face at her son and then kisses one of his fat little cheeks. "Do you want to hold him while I get my stuff?"
"Yeah, sure." Jensen can't help his stupid grin as Janine hands David over to him. He likes babies, always has. Not for any profound reason, like that they are tiny people that have yet to learn prejudice, though that's true. Jensen is man enough to admit that he likes babies because they are adorable. "Hey there, buddy."
David has his mom's eyes, chubby cheeks and a fair amount of dark hair that is sticking up in every direction. He looks up at Jensen and gurgles, kicking his feet with enthusiasm.
"I think I just orgasmed." Jensen looks up to see Alona, one of the grad students, walk into the room. She points at him and says, "Seriously. You should carry a baby around all the time." Then she turns to Janine. "Hey! I thought I heard you in here!"
"I'll work on that," Jensen says, mostly to himself because Alona is already chatting with Janine. He tunes them out, talking quietly to David instead, making faces that have David giggling and shaking his fists. It's not that Jensen wants his own kids, he really and truly doesn't. But he likes being around them. They make him happy in a peaceful, uncomplicated sort of way, though he supposes that's not unusual.
It's way past quitting time when Janine comes to take David back from him. She and Alona are still chatting as she lifts her sleeping baby out of Jensen's arms. "Thank you for watching him," she says. "You must have the magic touch. He's generally not quiet for this long."
Jensen shrugs. "Kids usually like me."
"They're usually a good judge of character." She holds David against her chest with one arm and grabs Jensen's hand. "Sam told me what a good job you've been doing. Thanks for being rad enough that I don't feel guilty about leaving."
"Uh, you're welcome, I guess?" Jensen nods at her. "You've got a pretty cute kid there."
She laughs. "Thanks! I'm pretty fond of him myself."
It's after six by the time Jensen's bus comes, so he heads straight to Jeff's rather than going home to change. They don't really have plans so much as they've reached the point where they have a standing Friday night date.
"I was starting to wonder," Jeff says when he opens the door.
"The girl I've been filling in for quit today. Which means I will soon be an official university employee." Jensen sticks his hands in his pockets as he walks into the house, trying to not sound overly excited about his first official post-college job.
"Yeah?" Jeff shuts the door and grabs his hips, pulls him close. Kisses Jensen lightly and says, "Does that mean you'll start wearing those tweed blazers with the elbow patches?"
"Yeah." Jensen laughs and kisses Jeff back. "Full tweed ensembles," he says against Jeff's lips. "I'll wear my glasses all the time."
"Now you're just being a tease." Jeff presses him back against the door and kisses him thoroughly, his tongue sliding hotly against Jensen's until Jensen wraps his arms around Jeff's neck to pull him closer. Jeff breaks the kiss, moves down to scrape his teeth against Jensen's jaw. "We should celebrate," he says
Jensen blinks and drops his head back, hitting it against the wood harder than he intended. He stretches his neck to give Jeff better access. "What did you have in mind?" He can feel Jeff's smile pressed against his skin.
"I dunno," Jeff says eventually. "Couple of beers, maybe order some pizza. Watch a movie." He undoes the top button of Jensen's pants.
"Sure," Jensen says. "A movie sounds perfect."
It's late Sunday afternoon and Jensen is supposed to be watching the Mariner's game, or at least reading the book he grabbed because he finds baseball boring. Mostly he is dozing, stretched out on the couch, his toes tucked under Jeff's thigh. He woke up at six for some reason and, unable to get back to sleep, went for a run. He was showered and had breakfast made by the time Jeff got up. After the dishes were done, Jeff blew him in the kitchen, so it wasn't a wasted effort.
Now there is baseball, which has become the bane of Jensen's summer of sex. Jeff is a fan and very much watching the game. He keeps startling Jensen out of his sleep by yelling at the umpire. It would be more irritating if Jensen didn't find it completely endearing. He really can't understand why someone would get so worked up over baseball when there is football in the world.
"What are you grinning at?" Jeff asks during the commercial break.
"You," Jensen tells him without opening his eyes. "Baseball's a stupid game."
"Mmm." Jeff stopped responding to Jensen's goads about a month ago, which is a bit of a shame as there'd been at least three rounds of argument sex that made it all worth it. Now he just slips his hand up the leg of Jensen's pants, scratches over his calf and then strokes the skin behind his knee.
Jensen twitches. "That tickles."
Jeff pulls Jensen's foot from under his leg and places it in his lap. Jensen tries to jerk it back, his instinctive reaction to someone touching his feet, but Jeff has a firm grip on his ankle. All he has to do is press his thumb into the arch and the fight goes out of Jensen entirely.
"So I was thinking," Jeff says as he works out any knots or cramps that might ever think of taking up residence in Jensen's foot.
"Naw, baby. What'd I tell you 'bout doin' that?" Jensen's voice is both accented and a little slurred in a way he can't help when he's drunk or this relaxed. Jeff always gives him a foot rub when he feels like he needs to convince Jensen of something. Last time it was trying sushi. Jensen's not sure if he does it intentionally or subconsciously, but he's not about to point it out. Nor is he going to point out the fact that nothing Jeff has done this for so far has required actual cajoling.
"I was thinking we should have a cookout for Labor Day. Invite some people over." Jeff pauses, smoothing his thumb lightly over the curve of Jensen's big toe.
"Like a party?"
"Yeah, like a party, smartass." Jeff actually sounds mildly irritated and Jensen realizes what he's actually asking. Sometimes the massage has the unintended consequence of making Jensen a little bit addled.
"What kind of meat foods are we talking for this shindig?" This party where Jensen would be meeting a bunch of Jeff's friends. At least, he assumes that's what's happening here. He pulls his other foot out from beneath Jeff's leg and plops it in his lap. When he cracks his eyes open, Jeff is smiling again. "I mean, are we talking steaks, or just hot dogs and burgers? Chicken? Ribs? These are important details."
"Does that mean you like the idea?" Jeff moves to his other foot and Jensen groans and settles a little deeper into the couch.
"So long as we have the right menu. I mean, you've got that sexy new grill and all. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste." He grins. "I can invite Misha, right?"
"You can invite whoever you want."
"Awesome. Misha'll make me look good by comparison."
Jeff grabs Jensen's leg and pushes it behind him. Jensen opens his eyes when he feels Jeff turning and slides down lower as Jeff crawls onto the couch and covers Jensen's body with his own. "Sweetheart," he says, brushing a kiss over Jensen's mouth when he smiles. "You don't need anyone else to make you look good."
"Does this mean baseball's over for tonight?" Jensen's dick is already hard from the weight of Jeff's body pressing his thighs open.
"They were losing anyway," Jeff says philosophically.
About thirty people turn out for the party and the weather is mostly cooperative. The bulk of the guests are people Jensen hasn't met yet. The few months that he and Jeff have been dating haven't exactly been filled with a whole lot of group activities.
Some of his own friends are here, but most of them had other parties to attend for their one last hurrah of summer. Misha and Clare were among the first to arrive, however, which goes a long way in calming Jensen down. He doesn't want to make a complete idiot out of himself in front of Jeff's friends.
As it is, he's spent the past half hour watching the battle of wits between Misha and Jeff's friend, Jim. He has never seen anyone put Misha in his place quite so handily. Jensen is a fan.
"Quit your smirking," Misha says. "Do your hostly duties and fetch me another beer."
"Only because I need one myself." Jensen stands. "Clare? Jim?" They both shake their heads. When Jensen gets to the cooler, he finds it empty, so he walks into the house to grab some bottles from the fridge. He pauses in the doorway to crouch down and scratch behind Bisou's ears. She's been wandering in and out of the house all afternoon, not quite fretful, but seemingly at a loss as to what to do with this many people in her territory.
He's about to walk into the kitchen when he hears a woman say, "Seriously, Jeff. What's with Boy Wonder out there?"
Jensen stops short, his stomach twisting with embarrassment.
"Don't sugarcoat it, Traci. How do you really feel?" Jeff asks sardonically.
"Oh come on. Come on! Granted, he's pretty. I'm not arguing that. But—"
"Don't." There's a definite warning in Jeff's tone.
"You need someone with a little more substance," she finishes.
"You think the fact that he's attractive means he has no substance?"
"No, but I think the fact that he's nineteen does."
"He's not nineteen, Traci. Jesus. Give me a little credit."
He should leave. Jensen knows that he should turn around and walk back out of the house. It's not like he's unaware of the age difference, he half-expected this from someone. He just didn't expect it to make him feel quite this foolish.
Traci sighs. "I thought that after Tom, maybe you would quit chasing barely legal tail."
There's a long pause, long enough for Jensen to leave, but he doesn't. Instead he wonders who Tom is.
"Jensen isn't Tom," Jeff says finally.
"No, he's younger and prettier."
"Look. I know you enjoy busting my balls and I know you're trying to look out for me, but this isn't like Tom. If you'd bothered to get to know him at all before pitching a fit, you'd realize that." There's another pause and then Jeff adds, "I appreciate your concern, but you talk about him like that again and the conversation will be much less friendly."
"I'm sorry," Traci says quietly. "I'm just worried that this gorgeous kid is going to break your stupid heart all over again."
"Yeah, well, if he does it's my own stupid fault, isn't it?"
"You really like him."
Jensen leaves the house before he can hear Jeff's answer. He finds Misha standing alone with his back to the fence, surveying the yard like he's making profound sociological observations. It's one of those Misha habits that Jensen has gotten fairly used to, which doesn't mean that it's any less worrisome when he catches him at it.
"Where's my beer?" Misha asks when Jensen walks up.
"Who's Tom?"
Misha scratches his chin and tilts his head, squinting at Jensen. "I'm guessing by the question that you already have a fairly accurate idea."
"Come on, man. Save your obfuscating and just give me a straight answer, please."
"Tom is Jeff's ex, but you knew that so why don't you ask me what you really want to know." Misha sounds mildly irritated, which Jensen supposes he deserves.
"Sorry. Just." Jensen sighs and looks around. Jeff is back outside, talking to Allison, the girl who's been interning for him over the summer. "What's the story there?"
"Jensen, come on," Misha says. "It's not my story to tell. If you want to know something, ask him." Misha gives him a considering look. "Do you trust him?"
"Yeah," Jensen says automatically. He stops and thinks about it and realizes that it's actually true. "Yeah, I trust him."
"Okay." Misha nods, apparently satisfied. "What I know is that Jeff and Tom dated for awhile, broke up about a year ago. You're the first guy Jeff has actually dated since then, so if you want to know anything else, talk to Jeff."
"You're right. Thanks." Jensen blows out a breath and tries to ignore how idiotic he feels. Stupid and young—it's not a pleasant sensation.
"Of course. Now go get me my beer," Misha tells him.
It's after ten by the time everyone leaves and Jensen is unreasonably exhausted. He locks the front door and then walks into the kitchen where Jeff is finishing up the dishes.
"I'd say that was a success," Jeff says as Jensen grabs the last beer from the fridge. He's been maintaining a steady buzz all afternoon and he's glad he talked Jeff into having the party on Sunday instead of Labor Day itself. He's totally sleeping in tomorrow.
"For the most part." Jensen takes a long swig of beer in an effort to man-up. He swallows around the lump in his throat and sighs. "I, um. I overheard your conversation with Traci earlier." He darts a glance at Jeff and then looks back down at his bottle. "I didn't really intend to eavesdrop, but." He shrugs.
"I'm sorry."
Jensen looks up, surprised. "What? No, I wasn't—You don't have anything to apologize for. I just didn't want to keep that from you. Because I was listening. So I should be the one apologizing, really."
"Jensen." Jeff dries his hands and then hooks his finger in Jensen's belt loop and tugs him closer. "Traci is a good friend, but she was out of line and I'm sorry you heard her being an idiot." He presses his forehead against Jensen's and brings his hand up, traces his thumb along Jensen's jaw.
"S'okay. I talked to her later and I'm pretty sure she doesn't still think I'm some sort of vacuous tramp." Jensen is weirdly nervous, can feel his pulse thudding in his throat and he wants to take a step back, break the tension with something meaningless. Instead he takes another deep breath, tries to smile but only manages a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I really kind of like you."
It's a stupid statement, but Jensen feels terribly exposed. His nerves are more touchy than he'd like to admit from Traci's comments and he just threw down the verbal equivalent of passing a note that reads do you like me? y/n circle one
"I really kind of like you too." There isn't any mockery in Jeff's voice that Jensen can find and he relaxes as Jeff strokes his thumb over Jensen's bottom lip, then moves his hand down over his throat. "Do we need to have The Conversation?"
"The Conversation?" Jensen opens his eyes, confused. "About what?"
"About how neither one of us wants to see other people."
Jensen pulls back a little. "I haven't slept with anyone else since we started dating," he says. True, they hadn't had a conversation about it, but Jensen assumed that was the case for both of them.
"I know you haven't." Jeff tugs him back into the circle of his arms. "I haven't either. I just thought that maybe we should say so explicitly."
"Oh." Jensen relaxes against Jeff's body and presses his cheek against Jeff's like they're dancing. He feels happy and a little embarrassed and he doesn't want Jeff to see his face when he says, "I don't want to see other people."
"Good." Jeff's voice sounds low and smug in his ear.
"Good." Jensen nods and moves back so that he's looking Jeff in the eye. "I trust you," he says. It feels huge and important, but he's not sure how to convey that. Jensen doesn't trust many people
"I trust you too, kid." Jeff says 'kid' like an endearment and he kisses Jensen like he knows just how significant the trust thing is.
Jensen never gets around to asking about Tom.
In October, Jensen finally breaks down and gets a cell phone. There are a lot of reasons to justify it, but mostly he's prompted by the fact that he's been spending so much time at Jeff's that he keeps missing his mom's calls. She stopped calling about two weeks ago with a message that he should just call her when he has time. Jensen can't shake the guilt on that one.
He hasn't told his family that he's seeing anyone. If the whole dating another guy thing weren't enough, he's sure the age difference would be. It's a conversation he doesn't want to have, so he doesn't bring it up. It's one of the benefits of living halfway across the country. His momma can't make him feel guilty about it if she doesn't know about it.
Saturday morning he's up early enough that it's still mostly dark outside. He gets out of bed as quietly as possible and closes the bedroom door behind him, leaving it open a crack so that Bisou can get in and out. She is very opposed to being shut out of a room, whether or not she actually has any interest in going in there.
Jensen starts the coffee and waits until he has a cup in front of him before he finally dials his parents' house. They're two hours ahead of him, so he's sure they're up by now. "Hey, Momma," he says when she answers.
"Jensen!" The fact that she sounds so genuinely happy to hear from him makes him feel that much worse.
From there, the first part of the conversation is pretty effortless. She fills him in on what everyone has been up to, including his dad, his brother, his sister, the neighbors, his cousins and his high school principal who she happened to run into at the grocery store last week.
It's both comforting and sad at the same time. To hear about everyone he's known all his life, those things that were home for so long and now he just feels detached. There's a huge gap there and Jensen has no idea how to bridge it or if he even wants to. Not when he's the one who worked so hard to create it in the first place.
When his mom is done with her report, Jensen fills her in on what he can. How his job is going, the weather. Then he says, "I don't, uh. I don't know that I'll be able to make it down for Thanksgiving this year. With work and everything..." He trails off and clears his throat. "I'll still be down for Christmas, of course."
"Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. It's a long way to come for a weekend." His mom sighs and Jensen can picture her expression, the worried little frown and the crease between her eyes. "Do you have somewhere to go?"
And here Jensen thought he couldn't feel lower. "Yeah. Um, you know Misha?"
"Yes," his mom says dryly. "Misha and I have become good friends."
Jensen winces at that. Misha has been talking to her a lot more than he has lately. "Well, his girlfriend's parents live up in Bellingham and they invited all of us up there. I guess Misha wants me to come to take some of the focus off of him."
Which isn't actually a lie. Whenever Jensen asks about it, though, Misha shakes his head and says, "Just wait." It's a little foreboding.
"That's good. I'm glad you have somewhere to go. I'd hate to think of you sitting up there alone all weekend."
She means that, Jensen knows, and he feels like an utter asshole for it. So he changes the subject to football and the conversation dies a quiet death a few minutes later. When Jensen hangs up, he's not sure if he feels better or worse than he did before. He wonders if there will ever be a time when he stops feeling like such a complete disappointment, or, if not, a time when he'll stop caring that he is.
When Jeff comes down about an hour later, he takes one look at Jensen and chuckles as he pours his coffee. "Why do you look like you look like you've had a day already?"
"I talked to my mom." Jensen rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Told her I wasn't coming down for Thanksgiving."
Jeff's response is a moment too long in coming. "When did you decide that?" he asks casually as he pours milk into his cup.
"Uh, I've been thinking about it for awhile. Misha wants me to go with him to Clare's. Possibly as a sacrificial offering. I'm not too clear on the details." He smiles down at his hands. "I'm not waiting for an invite from you if that's what you're worried about."
"Jensen." Jeff groans and walks over to him, pulls him out of his seat and into his arms. "I want to. I just—"
"Don't know how to break it to your parents that your boyfriend is way out of your league? Seriously, I'm not angling for anything here, I just didn't want to go home." Jensen grins and wraps his arms around Jeff's waist. "Though if you're so overcome with guilt that you feel the need to make it up to me, I have a few ideas."
"You are definitely out of my league." Jeff kisses him, still all minty fresh from brushing his teeth.
"Damn straight." Jensen's really not offended. He hasn't even told his parents about Jeff, so he doesn't have a leg to stand on in that department. But Jeff is kissing down his neck, one hand already under Jensen's t-shirt so he's not overly motivated to reassure Jeff too much at the moment.
It's the first Thanksgiving Jensen hasn't gone home for and he feels a little weird spending it with people he doesn't know but, if nothing else, Misha seems grateful for his company. Clare keeps calling Misha a pussy.
"Just wait," Misha says.
"They're not that bad," Clare says in response. "Honestly, I don't know what you're problem is. They like you."
Jensen hasn't ever stopped in Bellingham, though he's been through it a few times when he was in school and his friends dragged him up to Canada to take advantage of the lower drinking age. It's a beautiful city full of rich people, very rich people, and college students. Judging by the house, Clare's parents fall in the 'very rich' end of things.
"How many people live here?" Jensen asks, openly gaping as Clare pulls in the driveway.
"My mom, my dad and my sister. But my sister is doing an overseas exchange program this semester, so she won't be here."
Her parents come out to greet them as they get out of the car and they're easily as attractive as Jensen was expecting. Her mom is tiny, smaller than Clare with short brown hair and warm, pixieish features. Her dad is at least an inch taller than Jensen with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders and an imposing sort of presence that is in direct contrast to his wife's laugh-lines and open smile. He's an environmental lawyer, which doesn't surprise Jensen in the least.
"Her mom teaches Pilates on the weekends," Misha whispers as they greet Clare.
Which explains quite a bit about Clare, really.
"Jensen!" Her mom is the first to greet him with a surprisingly strong hug. "I'm so glad you could join us! We've heard so much about you!"
"Thank you, ma'am," Jensen says when she lets him go. "I appreciate the invitation."
"Of course! You're welcome any time! And please, call me Veronica." She's like a tiny little bundle of enthusiasm and Jensen finds himself smiling in response. "Misha!"
"Veronica, you get lovelier every time I see you." Misha manages to kiss the back of her hand before she pulls him into a hug.
"Always so charming," she says, laughing. "I'd buy it if I didn't know any better."
"Jensen." Clare's dad greets him with a handshake.
"Sir, thank you for having me," Jensen says.
"Good handshake." He nods at Jensen again and turns to Misha. He doesn't tell Jensen to just call him Steve.
"It takes Dad a little while to warm up to people," Clare whispers. She slings an arm around Jensen's waist and smiles up at him. "I'm glad you're here."
"Yeah." Jensen squeezes her up against him as Misha makes stilted, awkward conversation with Clare's dad and smiles. "I'm glad I'm here, too."
Twenty minutes into the meal, Clare and her dad get into a political debate that Jensen tries like hell to stay out of. He's found that when people hear he's from Texas they feel as though he should personally answer for the clusterfuck that is currently passing for the presidential election. As far as he can tell, though, Clare agrees with her dad completely and is simply enjoying playing the devil's advocate.
"Don't mind them," Veronica says. "They always do this."
Jensen smiles and tries to not look as uncomfortable as he feels.
"So, Clare tells me you've been dating Jeff Morgan." Veronica smiles like that's the most wonderful thing she's ever heard. "He's a very charming man. Incredibly handsome."
"Yeah." Jensen glances at Misha, who is staring resolutely at his food. "Yeah. I'm pretty fond of him."
"He's quite a bit older than you, isn't he?"
"Um, I guess. Twelve years. It doesn't—" Jensen stammers, nonplussed.
Veronica laughs and pats his hand. "Steve and I are ten years apart." She gets a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes, leans forward and whispers, "How's the sex?"
"What?" Jensen asks, loud enough that Clare and her dad stop arguing completely. Misha is still looking at his plate, smiling and nodding like he is not at all surprised. Jensen wants to kick him, but he's too far away to reach. "Uh. Good. It's good." He says it low enough that only Veronica can hear him and, thankfully, Clare and her dad start arguing again a moment later.
"That's good. It's very important to have a healthy sexual rapport. Right, Misha?"
"As always, I remain incredibly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, Mrs. Rogers," Misha says, maintaining eye contact with his mashed potatoes.
"Oh, Misha." Veronica smiles at him fondly. "He calls me Mrs. Rogers when I make him uncomfortable. It's sweet," she tells Jensen.
"You know, I just realized I should give my parents a call before it gets too late there," Jensen says, pushing away from the table. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of it sooner."
"Oh, sure. Go on ahead," Veronica says, waving her hand.
Misha shoots him a look that teeters between betrayal and amusement. Jensen thinks that at this point, he owes Misha nothing.
It speaks to Jensen's level of discomfort that, between his parents and his siblings, he manages to stay on the phone for an hour before returning to the table.
"Are you sure you don't need me to take you to the airport?" Jeff asks as Jensen checks to make sure he has everything he needs out of the bathroom. The rest of his stuff is packed at home, but most of Jensen's crucial toiletries are at Jeff's.
"I'm sure. It's an early flight and Misha owes me a four a.m. ride to the airport from here to eternity." Satisfied that he's not missing anything he turns back to Jeff and allows himself a kiss. "Try not to be too miserable while I'm gone." No matter how Jensen tried to arrange it, he couldn't manage to make his trip home shorter than ten days.
"Hmmm." Jeff pulls Jensen in for another kiss and refuses to let him go. "You can still stay here tonight. Misha can pick you up from my place."
"I can't." Jensen smiles as Jeff starts walking them towards the bed. "I'll get no sleep if I stay here."
"You can sleep on the plane." Jeff works the fly of Jensen's jeans open. "Get one of those eye masks, a little pillow..."
Jensen laughs and then gasps as Jeff rubs him through his boxers. "I should be well-rested and, fuck, okay. Keep doing that." He anchors himself with an arm around Jeff's shoulders and arches into his hand. "Gonna miss me, huh?"
"Sweetheart, I already miss you." Jeff scrapes his teeth over the curve of Jensen's neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make Jensen shudder. "Gotta leave me with something good to go on while you're gone, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen says and then yelps when Jeff shoves him onto the bed. He gives up all pretenses of going back to his place any time soon.
Jensen's flight gets into Seattle at six o'clock on New Year's Eve and he's completely exhausted by the time his plane touches down. He feels wrung out and antsy, both from ten days with his family and the fact that he hasn't talked to Jeff since he left. Jeff only called two times while Jensen was gone and Jensen missed both calls. When he tried to call him back, it went to voicemail.
It's not a big deal. Jensen is not so codependent that he can't go a week without talking to his boyfriend, but he knows he'll feel better once he sees him again. He's pretty sure that's how it's supposed to be when you're in a relationship, anyway.
Everyone jumps up as soon as the fasten seatbelt sign flashes off and Jensen rests his head against the side of the plane and looks out the window. His seat is all the way in the back and it'll take at least twenty minutes before everyone ahead of him is out. He sincerely hopes Misha remembered that he's supposed to pick Jensen up. Jensen doesn't want to pay for a cab trip from SEATAC to Fremont. All he wants to do is get home, take a shower and then go to Jeff's.
Jensen gets up as soon as the plane clears out enough that the guy next to him can stand in the aisle. His legs hurt from being cramped up for that long and he's got a kink in his neck. Sometimes he fantasizes about the day that he might be able to afford business class tickets. When the people in front of him start to move, Jensen shoulders his backpack, relieved to be on his way out of the stale, recycled air.
There are only a few people still milling around the gate area as Jensen scans the crowd for Misha, but it's Jeff he finds standing there, holding up a piece of paper that reads, Ackles. Somehow Jensen manages not to sprint to him, but it's a near thing.
"Your regular driver couldn't make it," Jeff says with a smile. "The agency sent me instead."
"Remind me to thank them." Jensen drops his backpack at their feet and pulls Jeff into a hug.
Jeff wraps his arms around Jensen and squeezes tight, kisses his cheek and whispers, "Hey there. Long time no see."
More than anything, Jensen wants to kiss him breathless. Wrap himself around Jeff and go at it until their lips are numb. As it is, they've probably been hugging longer than they should, so he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Hi," he says, rocking back on his feet. He can't stop smiling.
"Hi." Jeff laughs and twitches like he wants to grab Jensen again. He runs his hand through his hair instead. "It's good to see you, kid." He bends down and grabs Jensen's backpack, wraps his other arm companionably around Jensen's shoulders. "Let's go see about your luggage, huh? Get the hell out of here?"
"God yes," Jensen says. They walk along like that for awhile, bumping against each other until they reach the escalators.
By the time they get down there and Jensen hits the bathroom, the wait for his bags isn't too bad. It is just long enough that the immediacy of Jeff's presence has worn off and Jensen's fatigue hits him anew. He stifles another yawn and tries not to sway as the red light on top of the carousel starts flashing.
"So Misha said something about a party?" Jeff looks at Jensen out of the corner of his eyes, smiling.
Jensen groans. "Tell me you don't want to go to a party tonight."
"I don't want to go to a party tonight." Jeff winks at him. "I thought I'd take you back to my place, go pick up some Chinese food and we can have dinner and watch Dick Clark until we fall asleep on the couch like the old men we are."
"Sounds perfect," Jensen says sincerely.
Once they've secured Jensen's bags and they make it to the Blazer, Jeff unlocks the passenger door so that Jensen can get in while he loads the luggage in the back. Jensen is grateful as he slides into the car and closes his eyes. He feels like he could sleep for a week. He doesn't even bother to look when Jeff climbs onto the driver's seat and shuts the door.
"Hey." Jeff cups the side of Jensen's face and brushes his thumb over his cheek. "Christ, you look exhausted."
"I haven't been sleeping well." It took Jensen three nights to realize that he wasn't used to sleeping alone anymore. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, wondering where Jeff was before he remembered. He opens his eyes and looks over to find Jeff watching him. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." Jeff leans in and kisses Jensen lightly before dropping his hand and starting the car.
Jensen smiles and settles back, his eyes sliding closed again as they exit the garage. He idly listens as Jeff pays the parking attendant, his mind already drifting as the heat from the vents hits him full blast. He's nearly asleep as they pull onto the freeway when Jeff grabs his hand from where it's resting against his leg and laces their fingers together.
For a moment Jensen's chest feels too tight, happiness like a physical thing pushing inside of him, too big to contain. He smiles and squeezes Jeff's hand, the rumble of the car as they drive along lulling him to sleep.
It's good to be home.
True to his word, Jeff drops Jensen off at the house and goes to get them dinner, giving Jensen the opportunity to peel his contacts out of his eyes and shower a day's worth of traveling away. The water pressure isn't enough to work out the kink in his neck, but the heat goes a long way in helping to loosen the rest of his muscles.
He finds his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants amongst the clean laundry Jeff has yet to put away and pulls out one of Jeff's undershirts. Jeff's black hoodie is hanging on the door, so Jensen grabs that as well since his favorite sweatshirt is still in his luggage.
Jeff is just coming in the door with the food as Jensen jogs downstairs. "My hero," Jensen says as Jeff sets the takeout bags on the counter.
"I live to serve." He turns and catches Jensen's hips, tugs him close. "Welcome home." Then Jeff kisses him like Jensen wanted to at the airport, tongues and teeth and Jeff's body pressed up against his everywhere.
Jensen is ready to suggest that they move it upstairs when his stomach rumbles loudly, effectively, if momentarily, killing the mood.
"I see where I rate." Jeff laughs and takes a step back.
"Sorry." Jensen sighs and drops his head against Jeff's chest. "The first leg of my flight was late, so my layover was too short for me to get anything to eat. The last thing I had was the peanut butter sandwich my mom packed me and that was at least six hours ago."
"Well then, let's get you fed." Jeff slips his hand underneath Jensen's shirt and rubs his tummy, making Jensen laugh and squirm away.
They take the food out into the living room and eat out of the cartons on the couch. Jensen is too tired to battle with the chopsticks, so he uses a fork, eating until he feels disgustingly full.
"Better?" Jeff asks as Jensen leans forward and sets the empty General Tso's container on the coffee table.
"I don't know about better." Jensen sinks back into the couch and pats his stomach gently. He kind of feels like puking now. "Different anyway."
"Glutton," Jeff says fondly. "You're of no use to me when you're that full."
Jensen grins at him. "Give me half an hour." He squeezes the back of his neck and winces.
Jeff watches him for a moment and then sets his food aside, pushing the coffee table further out. "Come on. On the floor."
"I really don't think—"
"For a neck rub, you ass."
"Oh." Jensen gives him a sheepish grin and manages to get down on the floor without disturbing his stomach too much. He shrugs the hoodie off and leans forward, looping his arms around his bent knees. Jeff starts at the base of his skull and works his way down, thumbs on either side of Jensen's spine. "You're really good at this," Jensen says as Jeff works out what's left of his holiday tension.
"And you're all wound up."
"Yeah. Ten days with my family and we ran out of conversation topics halfway through the first." Jensen sucks in a breath when Jeff hits a particularly sore spot. "Spent a lot of time making small talk with my dad and brother over football while my mom and sister talked in the kitchen and fed us endlessly."
"That bad, huh?" Jeff lays his palms flat for a moment, rubbing small circles over Jensen's back.
Jensen shrugs. "Could've been worse."
Once Jeff's worked his way down the length of Jensen's spine, he moves his hands back up to work the knots out of his shoulders. It's so good Jensen wants to whimper, he feels warm and lazy, sapped of the ability to do anything but enjoy the pleasure of Jeff's hands. "God, I love you," he says without thinking. It's no more than what he would say to Clare under the same circumstances. Jensen is a sucker for a good backrub.
It takes a moment for him to connect his words with the fact that Jeff's hands have stopped moving. He swallows thickly, loud enough that he's sure Jeff hears it, then wiggles around under the weight of Jeff's palms. "Massage-in-progress," he says lightly. "What gives?"
Jeff doesn't answer, he only smoothes his fingers against the nape of Jensen's neck before moving his hands to Jensen's shoulders again, working over Jensen's back for long enough that Jensen ends up feeling like a warm ball of putty and the incident is mostly forgotten. Afterward, he crawls back onto the couch and lays down, his head in Jeff's lap. He laughs when he realizes that the TV is actually tuned to the Dick Clark special.
"Are we really watching this?" he asks as Jeff strokes his fingers through Jensen's hair, very nearly petting him.
"Show some respect for the classics."
"Yeah, okay," Jensen says around a yawn. He closes his eyes to rest for a few minutes before he pulls Jeff upstairs to have his wicked way with him. That's his intention, anyway.
"Jensen. Come on, sweetheart. Time to go to bed." Jeff is gently shaking his shoulder.
"Hmmm?" Jensen blinks his eyes open. His glasses are gone and he can only make out blurs in front of him. "What time is it?" Then he hears the countdown. Ten, nine, eight…
He struggles to sit up, manages to locate his glasses and put them on just as the people in Times Square start singing Auld Lang Syne.
"Happy New Year," Jeff says and then kisses him quickly while Jensen is still trying to figure out what's going on.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?"
"You needed it. Besides." Jeff grins. "I may have fallen asleep for awhile there myself."
Jensen laughs as he stands and stretches, his back popping loudly. "Did we really spend the evening sleeping on the couch?"
"It would seem that way." Jeff wraps his arms around Jensen from behind and kisses his neck. "And now we're going to bed."
They clear the food containers off the coffee table and put the leftovers away before heading upstairs. Jensen brushes his teeth while Jeff changes and then lets Jeff have the bathroom.
He's almost asleep again when Jeff slips into bed and presses up against his back, pulling him close. "Hey, Jensen?"
"Hmm?"
There's a long pause and then Jeff finally whispers, "Me too."
Jensen falls asleep before he can puzzle out what that means.
Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-10 11:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-10 12:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-10 07:04 pm (UTC)I loved the first two chapters, I really like your writing!
I'm sure I'll finish this sometime tomorrow - can't wait for it!!
Fantastic job! Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-12 01:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-22 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 12:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-25 05:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 12:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-31 09:25 am (UTC)*Makes more incoherent noises before crawling to next part*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-09-20 07:19 am (UTC)great story. thanks so much. :)