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errant_janeAuthor's Note: RIGHT! So, I'm kind of a COMPLETE EFFING MORON and I left this part out by accident when I originally posted. BRB FACEPALMING FOREVER!!! Anyway, I added it back in to the original Part 2, but I thought I'd post it separately as well for people who have ALREADY read the story and would want to read this as something extra? Or whatever? IDK. I can't believe that I achieved quite this level of stupid and then took WEEKS to figure it out.
This comes after the Labor Day party scene. I'm just gonna go crawl under a rock now...
Part Two (now in its entirety)
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.
Part Three
This comes after the Labor Day party scene. I'm just gonna go crawl under a rock now...
Part Two (now in its entirety)
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.
Part Three
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 02:55 am (UTC)I wouldn't complain about add'l timestamps for this verse :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:36 am (UTC)Hee! Oh, there will be one or two. I have already made promises. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 06:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 12:46 am (UTC)And then a bunch of crazy JDM/Jensen AUs because there is NOT ENOUGH SIR EVER!!! *grins*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 10:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 12:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-06-26 03:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 12:49 am (UTC)N'aw! Thank you!! I'm quite tempted to write a bunch of JDM/Jensen AUs. IDK! There is just SOMETHING about them that appeals! Buttons, they are pushed! ;D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-11 12:13 am (UTC)I have to flist you now, though, I nearly missed this, but for rhythmsextion leading me here for something else. That would have been too bad, and it almost makes me like JDM. Almost.