
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/962067.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Additional Tags:
      mild_panic_attack, Barebacking, Alternate_Universe, First_Time, Cheese
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-10 Words: 6310
****** And So He Does ******
by homo_pink
Summary
     Jared's kind of an uptight kid. But he's been in love with his
     neighbor from down the hall for so long that he'd do just about
     anything asked of him.
Notes
     Written for the salt_burn_porn challenge @ LJ, for the prompt a
     little to the left.
“They found a dead body down at the old iron works factory earlier. Not even
bloated yet, still nice and fresh. C’mon, get dressed.”
It’s creeping up on one in the morning, Jared only having just started to
drowse down into sleep and he’s pawing his eyes and squinting into the night,
and it’s not the weirdest thing Jensen’s ever said to him after sneaking in
through his bedroom window. Doesn’t even rank in the top five.
 
-
 
When Jared and his mother first moved into the old apartment complex at the
heart of the city, he’d been eager for the fresh start; a puppyish twelve year
old full of excitement and ready for the next adventure.
But that was back when adventure, to Jared, meant catching insects in old jelly
jars and raiding the Saturday morning yard sales for gadgets and charms.
He’d never have expected the older kid from a few doors down the hall on the
left, the one who wore mismatched shoes and a fake lip ring that switched sides
every other day, to become a staple in his life, or even notice him really.
Never once expected to find a best friend anywhere in there either.
Years later and he’s still not sure what made Jensen decide to knock on their
door that fateful day and politely ask Jared’s mom if he could borrow her son
to help him out with a science project. Jared had stood behind his mom and
watched, horrified, as she grinned and agreed and all but sent him on his merry
way with a stranger.
And all because she thought Jensen seemed sweet, just so sweet. And cute too,
he’d heard her say.
Sweet.
It took twenty minutes for Jared to find that 'science project’ didn’t mean
quite the same to him as it did to Jensen.
As it turned out, Jensen was feeling crafty that afternoon and was set on
constructing his very own homemade stink bombs. And lots of them. ("Rude
neighbors upstairs. Stomp a lot," he explained.) He’d had the ingredients
readily laid out on a little table in his room, sitting there all harmless and
orderly.
“We just need one more thing,” Jensen had said, while Jared was busy marveling
over the array of colorful posters and flags tacked up along the walls,
haphazard and crookedly charming. He couldn't help it; Lower Class Brats and
The Casualties just seemed worlds away from his own dinosaur sculptures and
comic book memorabilia. Galaxies apart.
He hadn’t registered the little snip snip sound until it was too late.
Jared grabbed at his head in shock, both hands clutched in tight, spun around
to face the culprit and could barely utter a squeak when Jensen merely shrugged
and wandered over to the table to deposit the final component. Apparently those
little inventions required hair.
“And you have lots of that,” Jensen said, matter of fact, smiling in that way
of his that Jared would later, over time, come to fall victim to time and time
again. Nothing malicious, just happy. "We'll need more for the rest."
He went home for dinner that night with an oddly satisfied feeling and
noticeably patchy hair that his mother, thankfully, chose not to remark upon.
That was the first time Jared learned never to trust a pretty face. Though the
lesson never really quite took.
 
-
 
In the summer of 1996, when Jared turned fourteen and they were getting ready
to finally attend the same school, Jared no longer a middle school dork and
Jensen going into the 11th grade, Jensen convinced him to get an undercut.
Jared hadn’t known what that was at the time, not exactly, just understood that
Jensen seemed to really like the idea and that it, admittedly, sounded pretty
cool. But then, Jensen only liked cool things. His judgment was sound. Jared
trusted him.
The buzzing hum of the clippers seemed to go on forever, whole curtains of hair
falling down all around Jared's shoulders, pooling around the bottom of the
toilet Jensen had him seated on. A lifetime later, the loud click of a finished
product echoed in the tiny apartment bathroom and Jensen set his tools aside,
whirled Jared around on his butt, told him to stand.
“Close your eyes,” Jensen said and Jared obeyed wordlessly, as always.
A few tugging pulls and something wondrously soothing raking through his hair
that Jared realized to be Jensen’s fingers and then three little snaps that
sounded suspiciously like a rubber band.
“Okay. There. Open.”
Jared stared at his reflection, the entire bottom half of his hair from his
temple down gone, buzzed short, the rest of it tied back into a ponytail — and
then stared at Jensen’s own image right beside him, all wayward dirty blonde
spikes and shining hopeful eyes.
He didn’t even have to say, so whaddya think? the way he usually did when he
propositioned Jared with some outrageous new plan. Jared could plainly see the
fragile delight reflected right there in the mirror, waiting for a reaction to
his self-thought masterpiece. Jared hadn’t the heart to crush that.
“This shit rocks,” he’d said, reaching up to feel around his missing hair.
And if he walked around for the rest of the summer and half the school year
like a total tool, feeling like the little girl from The Crow, it was worth it
for the way Jensen, for reasons unknown, seemed to love it and would sometimes
reach over absently just to feel the fuzz.
 
-
 
“I think I wanna get a ‘hawk,” Jensen said one day.
He was flipped over onto his belly and rifling through the lyrics booklet from
a new CD he’d scored off of someone in one of his classes, kicking his legs in
the air back and forth. A good band too, one he’d been dying to check out. For
free, he’d said, emphasizing, obviously not understanding why someone would do
that.
It was a girl, a really cute girl, and Jared had seen them in the hallway after
his study period. Jared didn't need to guess why she'd done it.
Half the people in the school had eyes on Jensen when he walked through the
halls, drumming tunes against lockers and singing horribly offensive songs, the
whole world nothing but background. Jared saw Jensen in zoom focus, never
anything else.
“Jare-crow!”, Jensen might scream, seconds before he was jumping piggyback up
onto Jared and kicking at Jared’s thigh like a horse.
For all the things that Jensen was or wasn’t, he’d always been one thing and
that was beautiful. Everybody knew it. Jared was never blind to that.
“Should I?”
“Huh?”
“Asshole. You’re not even listening to me. Do you think I should change my hair
like this?” and he thrust the booklet in Jared’s face, waving it around.
“If you want?” Jared said after a while, rearranging himself on Jensen’s carpet
and trying to concentrate on his history notes.
“Well, do you like it? If you saw it on me, what would you think?”
Jensen paused and waited for Jared to catch up, a quietly serious expression on
his face like Jared’s opinion came down to a blue or red wire.
But Jared couldn’t begin to say what he’d think, what he always thought,
because the fact was that it didn’t matter what Jensen’s hair looked like, not
really. Jensen was so much more than that.
“You could,” Jared said, settling for something safe.
So Jensen did.
And Jared stained his favorite shirt that night, helping Jensen bleach and dye
his mohawk purple. He didn't mind it.
 
-
 
“I’m thinking I might skip Prom. Chris and the guys are planning on setting off
the fire sprinklers, or so they say. And anyway, I’d rather just. I mean. You
know.”
Jared didn’t know, but he nodded along like he did. Part of him sagged with
relief, while the other part of him was halfway to bummed that he wouldn’t get
to see Jensen in some prissy tux with combed hair and a little flower thing
pinned to his chest.
“You wanna come over then?” Jensen asked, looking down at his backpack where he
was safety-pinning a new patch onto the strap. “Maybe ask your mom if you can
spend the night.”
And that was, weird. Jared was over at Jensen’s so frequently his mother often
joked that the Ackles’ ought to claim him when tax season rolled around; Jensen
asking outright felt strange, forced. Jared didn’t like it. But he wasn’t about
to say no.
“Sure, I’ll come over,” he’d said.
So he did.
And they stayed up all night watching half of Jensen’s B movie collection,
Jensen putting in film after film like he wasn’t ready for the night to end,
like he was waiting for something, three dots at the end of a sentence.
 
-
 
“I think I’m gonna join a band,” Jensen said. “I can sing okay, right? Kinda?
And I’ll just be screaming so it’s not like anyone’ll know the difference. You
can be my groupie."
Jensen had chuckled, not catching the way Jared's face had flamed up and he
missed a crack in the sidewalk and stupidly lost his footing for about half a
second.
The way he talked about it, for days on end, rattling away in Jared’s ear on
the bus to school, in the courtyard during lunch, on the walks back home once
Jared’s after school chess club let out, it was nearly a living entity.
Glamorous and gritty, real rock star stuff with flyers and merch and
personalized guitars.
“You can sing,” Jared said. “You’d be good at it.”
So Jensen joined.
It was little more than four guys with a box of secondhand instruments
assembled in Chris’s garage, writing ‘ballads’ about sex and cigarettes but it
meant everything to Jensen, back then. They practiced every Friday and Saturday
night.
Jared never missed a single one.
 
-
 
“I think I’ll stay around here for a while. Year or two, maybe. Just until I
get settled somewhere,” Jensen had said. In life, Jared had heard.
It was nearing the end of Jensen’s senior year and after that, Jared would have
to find someone else to sit with on the bus, in the cafeteria, would have to
find someone else when Jensen found someone else. Someone else. Someone else.
“I can see if they’re hiring at the record shop, or Planet K, and if it comes
down to it, I can always—“
Prematurely grieving and nauseous, just the thought of Jensen leaving high
school and leaving home, leaving him, Jared had blurted, “You should stay.”
And Jensen did.
 
-
 
“So I’ve been thinking,” Jensen said one day in March. “I’m eighteen now.
School’s almost out,” roll calling each dreaded item on Jared’s internal list,
like he wasn’t acutely aware of every single one of these things. “It’s
different now, shit's changing, I make my own rules. Shit, I can buy smokes if
I want, lose big at a casino, purchase porn. I think it’s time.”
“Time?” Jared asked, fiddling with the button on the pocket of his cargo
shorts, panic welling up into his chest.
“I’m gonna get a tattoo. Today. Right now, I think. Wanna go?”
They walked down to the parlor and flipped through binders of each artist’s
work, whistled when they saw something particularly cool, took total inventory
to make sure something that would forever decorate Jensen’s body was perfect.
Jared kept circling back to the freehand styles, clean line work and just-right
shading.
They went with Tony, a bearded guy with dreads and a friendly smile, and Jared
stayed out in the waiting area while Jensen was taken to the back. Jensen
turned around halfway there, met Jared's eye, grinned. "Think quick, right or
left?"
"Left."
Forty-five minutes later, Jensen returned with aftercare instructions, a
sample-size packet of ointment and a swath of cellophane around his ankle. When
they got outside, Jared couldn't resist anymore and promptly bent over to study
the design in the waning sunlight, holding Jensen’s left leg and carefully
lifting it up a little higher to see.
It was a capital J in clean black, bold typewriter print, sitting inside a
(totally ridiculous and totally Jensen) fat, yellow lightning bolt done in a
matching black outline.
“I,” Jared said, still crouched, examining the work. “I actually really like
that. It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said when Jared let go of his leg. He sounded miles away. “I
love it.”
 
-
 
“That needs to be reported, it’s gonna start smelling if it’s been more than
two days. Okay wait, who found it?” Jared stops with his head partway into his
flannel shirt, already shoving his feet into a pair of shoes.
“I dunno, Chris or someone. Let’s go though, we’re burning daylight here.”
Jared looks out the still-open window, out into the harsh black night Jensen
seeped in from and pointedly doesn’t say a word. Jensen rolls his eyes, makes a
jerkoff motion.
“'Chris or someone'?” Jared says then, skeptical. He’s not trying to be a stick
in the mud here but there’s a dead body in discussion. The proper authorities
need to be notified and besides, he’s not sure he’s even all that keen on
seeing a corpse. For all he knows, it might be worm breeding grounds already.
Jensen fake yawns and mutters something about needing a hip replacement soon,
hurry up, blah blah, starts poking around at Jared’s desk, and then, “Oh.
What’s this?”
“Put that down!” Jared says, rushing over, head sticking out of his shirt all
wrong and only one arm fully in. “That shit’s half my grade, man. Careful with
it.”
Jensen's holding Jared's career board in his hands and he spent five hours
working on that thing and though he’ll never say so, he’s kind of proud of it.
It’s basically his whole future and how to get there, or at least how he sees
it. An aerial view printout of the UT campus and the orange longhorn logo
nearby, a couple of photocopied Marvel and DC covers tacked up, the overview of
a graphic novel course that interested him.
There's also a small, yellow one story house that he’d simply liked the look of
and added in as an afterthought. A sleek black Lambo off in the corner because
hey, it’s his fucking board.
Jensen looks at it a little while longer, makes some sort of sound like he’s
maybe thinking it over and sets it back down, neat and pristine.
He doesn’t make any off handed remarks or call Jared corny or anything like
that, but when Jared ducks out of his bedroom window, he'd swear he sees his
very best friend in the world wiping the arm of his hoodie sleeve across his
eyes. It kills him to think Jensen might be laughing at him, even if he’s
pretending not to.
“Daylight’s burning,” Jared says, snappy and rude. It doesn’t make him feel as
vindicated as he’d hoped.
 
-
 
They walk down the alley behind their complex, Jensen retrieving his old
backpack from where he’d stowed it down below Jared’s window sill. He slings it
up over one shoulder and it looks heavy. Jared wonders what all Jensen has in
there, flashlights and a camera could probably fit in their pockets. He doesn’t
ask though. He's still feeling kind of bitchy.
“Nervous?” Jared says, just to break the silence that’s risen up between them,
the one that’s never really there. Not usually. Not ever.
“Pretty much,” Jensen admits, throwing his hood up over his head as they skulk
along, dodging streetlights and flickering signs, sticking to the shadows. His
hair is green this month. “Kinda scared, too.”
Jared elbows him, scoffy. Jensen’s never scared.
Grinning down at his shoes as they go, Jensen hunches a shoulder in defeat and
places careful feet down onto the pavement, nothing hurried. “Yeah yeah, but
hey. First time for everything, amiright? I’ve never seen a body before.”
“First time,” Jared echoes and they trudge on into the night, knocking elbows
and trying to trip each other.
 
-
 
The old abandoned factory on the opposite side of town is unnerving enough
during the day, a hulking superstructure made up of rusted walkways and saggy
fences past their prime.
Once past the witching hour, choked with yellowed grass high as a corn field
and nothing but uninterrupted silence, as though perhaps even the little
insects Jared used to enjoy catching are smart enough to have found someplace
kinder to occupy, it’s downright hair-raising.
Jared keeps close to Jensen’s side and every few yards, starts whispering,
asking again if Jensen’s sure about this, are they really going in there, all
the way inside?
In the distance, the very distant distance, Jared notes, the heavy noise of an
18 wheeler rumbles past and then very little else, a city asleep. The smog of
the decrepit old building seems to cloak them in the closer they get to the
mouth of the thing and when they’re a few feet away, Jensen stops.
“Here." He hands Jared a small flashlight and keeps one out for himself. Zips
his bag back up and nods. “Let’s see what we see.”
Jared’s at the point where he pretty much doesn’t want to see anything anymore,
but he quiets down. Jensen obviously wants this.
 
-
 
Inside it's blackness and a cloying, baked-in sort of heat. The air itself
feels greasy and when Jared takes a deep breath to steady himself, he almost
wishes he hadn’t. It’s sour and smells of a different type of decay, the thick
odor of rot and things long forgotten by the world.
Jared follows Jensen down a corridor, his light dithering in his grip the
further along they creep. Something slick coats the ground, distinct in the
pulling hiss it makes every time he lifts his foot. He deliberately doesn’t
shine his light to the floor. Best not to know.
“Just a little ways to go,” Jensen says. “Think we’re almost there.”
“There? Where there? You know the exact location?”
“Well, yeah. Chris more or less told me where to go. Shouldn’t be too much
longer.”
Something crunches under Jared's foot and he cringes, wishing he’d owned a pair
of stompy combat boots like Jensen’s. And maybe, yeah, they look kind of
strange matched with old faded camo pants cut off at the knee like Jensen
favors, but at least nothing unwanted is getting into those babies.
Jared rushes to catch up where he’s fallen behind and they round a sharp
corner, find themselves in another putrid funk hallway, graffiti canvasing the
walls in various overlapping symbols and words, a pretty sort of corrosion.
“Hey, look at this,” Jared says, swishing his light over a very detailed spray
paint penis. Jensen casts a quick look over his shoulder and Jared’s flashlight
promptly dies. “Shit.”
He shakes it a few times, nothing. Checks and rechecks the batteries, jiggles
it a couple more times just to try and curses very colorfully. He slips the
stupid thing into his pocket and stays skin-close to Jensen and their one
remaining beacon of light.
Jensen takes careful, deliberate steps, walking in that weird way he has been
since they left home. Jared doesn't like any of this.
 
-
 
“I wonder if there could be more than one body in here." Jensen says, real
thoughtful like. Jared shuffles closer. "Who’d know, right?”
At the far end of the old factory is a large, empty warehouse area with a row
of high rise windows near the top, able to be seen from the highway.
It’s the big room where the homeless and the tweekers would gather years ago,
back before the place became too condemned to offer even that much livable
shelter. Jared assumes that’s where they’re headed.
Jensen snaps his bubblegum a couple of times, urging Jared on, guiding them
deeper into the maze.
As Jared's calming his heartbeat into a softer lull, something skitters across
the toe of his shoe and Jared lets out the scream he's been holding in all
night and bodily slams Jensen up against the cold steel wall. He leans his full
weight against Jensen and presses in tight, shielding him from any outside
threats.
Jensen wildly shines his light in every direction, panting a little and
catching Jared's fear by sheer proximity. And he sighs.
“Jared, it’s a fucking opossum. Jesus fuck.”
They keep walking.
 
-
 
"What the hell is that? Are you whistling?" Jared asks distractedly, trying to
take his mind off the way their light source seems to have dimmed fractionally.
Jensen doesn't reply, and something creeks ominously further down the stretch.
 
-
 
“Yo, dead chick. You here?”
“Jensen!”
“What? It’s not like she's gonna care.”
“Still. That’s bad juju.” And then, “it’s a chick?”
 
-
 
A background sense of fear has started to take over and every little crunch and
scuffle sets Jared closer and closer to hysteria.
"How much further?" Jared says, just to hear a human voice, and when Jensen
doesn’t answer for a long while, the harsh set of his jawline unmoving, Jared
figures that’s it. They’re well and truly fucking lost.
In a deathzone contaminated husk of an old building where nobody will ever find
them because nobody knew where they went or that they left and there’s a
decomposing cadaver somewhere in their midst. Jared hasn’t cried in front of
Jensen since he was twelve but he thinks that’s about to change.
“So you’re going to Austin, huh?” Jensen says then, and it's enough of a shock
to be a good distraction.
“Um. Well, not like tomorrow or anything but yeah, I’ve been thinking about it.
It’s a good school.”
“Yup.”
“What does that mean? Yup. You know I hate when you pop your p’s like that.”
“Good for who?”
“For …who? For me,” Jared says, squinting at what he can see of Jensen’s sharp
silhouette. “What do you—“
“Never mind it,” Jensen rushes on, waving his hand around like it’s all
nonsense, causing the light to go askew. “Yeah, it’s good Jared. It’s real
good. It’s just. It’s kinda far, ya know?”
Which, no.
“It’s an hour if you run red lights and floor it. We must be measuring the
distance from different scales here, man.”
“Apparently so,” Jensen says, clucking his tongue against the roof of his
mouth, a little tic he only gets when he’s pissy. “Guess it’s just a little
farther than what I’m used to.”
And fuck you.
“You’re the one that’s leaving,” Jared says, suddenly angry and hurt, childish,
and he reaches out to yank Jensen back by the elbow. “Said so yourself,
remember? You’re leaving Jensen. Away from your parents, away from – You’ll be
gone. And then what? What about me? You think about that?”
Jensen takes a step back, like Jared’s physically struck him and he points an
accusing hand at Jared’s face, jabbing with the flashlight so that Jared just
sees bursts of light like a strobe in front of him. “I never left. I’m still
there, right? You said stay. You said that, you asked me. And I stayed Jared. I
stayed because— Because.”
And Jensen's still backing away, like Jared's someone to be frightened of.
“Because?”
But Jensen's too busy getting tripped up on a pile of gutter trash debris. He
windmills his arms about crazily for a brief moment, goes tumbling down to the
ground with a startled shout and a heavy, sick sounding thud and the flashlight
in his hand clatters off into the shadow, light dying out behind it.
“Jensen!”
Jared darts forward in a helpless attempt at aiming himself in the general
direction of Jensen’s afterimage and stops short, eyes darting around in deep,
portentous black.
 
-
 
“Dude, where are you? I can’t see you. I can’t see anything. I can’t see,” he
reaches out to feel along the walls but comes up clutching only stale air.
“Jensen?”
He takes a deep swallow and lowers himself into a cat's crouch, grabbing around
in hopes of hitting something, anything to help guide him. He’s panicking,
knows it in the way his throat feels like it’s closing up. He has to get to
Jensen, he has to, and he’s not twelve anymore, no, but his cheeks go salty
anyway.
“Dude.”
“Jensen!” Jared shouts into the darkness, nearly a wail in the way it releases
and he doesn’t care, can’t care, the voice came from somewhere over on his
right. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god. Where are you? Where’s the –“
“Dead,” Jensen says, little clicking switch flicks echoing around them for
proof.
“Keep talking,” Jared tells him, wiping at his cheeks and chin. “I’ll find
you.”
“How long was I out for?”
Jared laughs, and follows the sound of Jensen's low voice. “For a whole two
minutes probably. Maybe less than.”
“Weak. So what were we talking about?"
“No. We don’t have to go there. I don’t want to go there. I really don’t want
to argue Jensen. Not right now. Please. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jensen says, sounding small. Jared keeps spider-walking in the same
direction, the sound of Jensen’s breathing getting closer and closer and
Jared’s already overcome with relief. Jensen's okay. Jensen's here. “What do
you want me to say then?”
“What you’re doing now is fine. Just keep going.”
Jared gropes around feebly.
“Confession.”
“What?”
“Won’t get mad?”
“Jensen.”
Jensen sighs and it sounds close, close enough that Jared thinks he feels it.
“There’s no body.”
Jared stiffens.
“I just thought that maybe if I—whatever. It was stupid, I get it. I really get
it. But it made sense in theory, I thought it could work. It always worked for
Chris, and. Just figured maybe if I brought you here, that you’d."
“That I’d what? Have a pretty sweet heart attack at the ripe old age of
sixteen? Don’t worry, nearly happened.”
“No. That’s not—“
“And what worked for Chris? I'm so sick of his bullshit pranks, Jensen.”
“It’s not a prank. It’s not, Jared. I swear. The story was total BS but Chris
always used to bring his old girlfriends up here, over to the warehouse
section, to—"
"To?" Jared says, slurry.
"Everyone did," Jensen hastens to say, talking over them both. "It’s like a
thing. I know it’s shitty and fuck, not what I had in mind when I pictured—But
dude, I’d tried everything else to get you to see, to just. To just see. Me.
And you don't. Only as your dumbass friend who hangs around you like a fly,
like a—“
“You’re not a fly,” Jared says, impassioned, and the sentence rattles around in
his head until it sounds too stupid to be real. He’s got to be right up on
Jensen now, how far did he fucking go.
Jared thinks he'd probably be hearing the thrum of Jensen’s heart had his own
not been so loud, punching his temples and inching up his throat. “Where are
you?”
“Right here,” Jensen says, close. “I’m here.”
“Jensen.”
“Do you see me?”
“Where?”
“Here. Right here.” Jared feels a warmth rush hot against his ear. “Do you see
me?”
And Jared doesn’t, but he does. “Yes. Yeah. I see you, Jensen. I do. You’re
right here.” Right here, Jensen repeats. It ghosts against his neck. “I’ve
always seen you.”
“Hey.”
“Is this,” Jared says, turning his cheek and bumping up against something
solid. “Is this you?”
“A little higher. No. Too high. Come back. Scoot this way. Closer. Closer. A
little to the left, just a lit—“ but that’s all that Jensen can get out before
Jared is kissing him completely quiet.
 
-
 
They’re close now, knees and thighs and all the way up, both kneeling on the
grubby floor, arms wrapped around tight like small children.
Jensen is lean and solid and he feels powerful in Jared’s arms, the quiet
strength of him that Jared's only caught glimpses of through the years by way
of playful bouts of wrestling, endless games of tickle torture.
It’s not anything like that this time. Jensen’s a warm weight, arms tucked
beneath Jared’s armpits and reaching back up again to grip his shoulders,
fingertips digging in possessively. Jared likes it.
Kissing Jensen is everything and nothing like he’d imagined, mostly because he
never thought it possible.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Jared hears his weak voice saying, mumbling
reassurances out loud, for himself, stupid against the corner of Jensen’s
mouth. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah. I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jensen says, mouth wet, dragging his arms out from
under him and grabbing Jared’s face with both hands, slotting his thumbs along
the line of his cheekbones, rubbing back and forth. “Hey. Hey, man. Your face
is. Why’s your face—“
“Jen, don’t,” Jared says, a plea, an admission. “Just. Kiss me.”
And Jensen does.
 
-
 
Jensen naked is a thing of beauty. It’s hard for Jared to not simply just
stare, now that he knows he can, that he’s allowed.
Jensen’s all satin skin and flat belly, laid out on his back, one leg bent at
the knee in invitation. The way his legs curve out in a soft arch, like they
were just made to hold someone between them, Jared has to clutch at the base of
his dick hard.
Jensen can't see himself laying there, the way he's spread over top of the red
plaid quilt he keeps in his closet, the one Jared uses when he stays the night,
one of the many useful boy scout things Jared discovered when Jensen tossed his
backpack at him and started peeling off his clothes piece by piece, spikes and
studs and his Joy Division shirt.
Jared wonders what was going through Jensen's head when he placed each item in
his bag, what he'd wanted to happen, what he'd hoped for, how it went in his
dayglo head. There was a random candle at the bottom of the bag, and a lighter,
both of which had made Jared smile.
“I can be romantic,” Jensen had shrugged. They looked around the building, at
the torn over mattress they’d discovered in the warehouse room, at the beer can
wads and condom wrappers glinting in the weak moonlight that tumbled in from
the high windows, and laughed.
“Can we—I mean, can you,” Jensen says now, reaching out to wrap a hand around
the back of Jared’s knee, urging him in closer, letting his legs fall wider.
“We’re gonna fuck, right?”
Jared nods dumbly, no longer laughing. “Have you…?”
Jensen shakes his head, but he’s smiling something private. “I wasn’t kidding
earlier. I’ve never seen a body before.”
“Oh,” Jared says. His heart comes up to lodge in his throat, choking. “Me
neither. I haven’t ever. Seen a body.”
 
-
 
Jensen hitches his leg up higher, giving Jared an eyeful on purpose, and Jared
stares, presses him thumb against the spot like he just can’t help it and he
can’t, he absolutely cannot.
When he rubs at it, soft and questioning, Jensen’s back bows off the mattress
and the tip of Jared’s thumb sinks in, just a little, fingernail deep. It's
wet.
Jensen gasps, shocky good, and Jared wants to ask, wants so bad to press for
details, get that visual, but he doesn’t want to embarrass Jensen, not when
he’s already so vulnerable.
It’s enough for Jared, just knowing Jensen did that, how hopeful his heart
must've been, and Jared thinks he gets why Jensen had been walking so
methodically. Gentle, uncomfortable little steps.
Jensen wraps a leg around Jared’s waist and pulls him close, holds him pressed
up against Jensen’s ass. He wraps his arms over Jared’s neck and hugs him real
tight, softly licks up into his mouth. Jensen's fingers drag along Jared’s
scalp and his dick fucks sloppy paths against Jared’s hipbone, desperate.
“Jared, Jared please,” but Jensen can’t say what he wants, probably doesn’t
even know.
 
-
 
Jared fingers him in earnest, best as he can, and Jensen lets go of him, bones
gone soft and sprawled, hands scrabbling out to clutch the quilt. Jensen's head
falls back like he's maybe dying and he starts panting for Jared and jesus and
god and fuck, and Jared scoots down unnoticed.
He gets there just in time to take Jensen into his mouth, all trembly lipped
and nervous, and Jensen's murder-scream ricochets at the crumbly walls.
Jared works as much as he can get of it between his lips, and it isn’t very
much, he’s not used to it at all, but it isn't very long before Jensen’s
reaching down to cup the back of Jared’s head, sweet. He tries to let off some
sort of warning, a choky little cry when Jared sucks hard, but Jared doesn’t
let go, and he doesn’t move, and Jensen comes in his mouth.
It's warm and so sudden and way more than Jared was expecting. He works to take
it all down, little pools dribbling messy at the corners of his mouth, his
chin, but he did it, he got to do that, he was Jensen’s first.
“That was. That was,” Jensen says.
Jared agrees. It really was.
 
-
 
It’s a small eternity before Jensen is able to brain again, and when he can, he
notices Jared hovering down by his crotch still, probably with a wet mouth and
guilty eyes, and Jensen throws his arms out wide, stretching out all feline
graceful.
Get up here, get up here, and Jared obeys because he's a chump in love.
Jared slides up Jensen's body, little sucking kisses as he goes, his thigh, his
lower belly, side of his rib, a biting pull just under his jaw. He knows Jensen
can smell himself on Jared's breath and Jared likes so much how it makes him
feel, the dirty knowledge of where he's been.
He’s never been all that smooth, at anything really, forever fumbling around
and knocking shit over and Jensen knows that, has always known that, and he
sort of smiles lazily when he feels Jared's virgin boner poking at him
awkwardly.
Underneath the vests and the buckles, beneath the slouchy hoodies and steel
toes, Jensen is all tight, sleek lines and gently carved out ridges, perfect
shapes for Jared to mold his hands to. He does that now, and watches Jensen’s
smile grow around the edges.
Jensen wordlessly lifts a leg, rests the curve of his foot real soft over
Jared’s shoulder and with one hand, he reaches down and guides Jared to his
body, nods at the question in Jared’s eyes.
 
-
 
Jared tries to go slow, tries so hard, but Jensen presses down on his back,
just above his ass. In one furious shove, Jared, helpless to do anything but
let it happen, drops down into him easily. He thinks he might cry. Again.
Jensen's ass is unfuckingreal.
He watches the length of his dick work its way in again and again, and he’s so
outdone by the sight, this crippling new feeling, that he forgets to breathe
some. Jared goes a little lightheaded, fuzzy-templed and slow, and that somehow
makes his dick even harder, feels even better.
His hips stutter stupidly, motored without his permission, and Jensen’s saying,
“Dude, dude, keep going. Just, just,” drained and only half-there but Jared
obeys, he was always going to obey.
“Oh wow,” Jared says, awed and dorky, clutching onto Jensen’s hips, fucking in
deep and thorough until Jensen’s all the way seated on his dick and Jared stays
there for a nice sublime while, just holds himself in there and it’s the best
thing, the most destroying touch, and Jensen just takes it so well.
Jared sobs hard, face all blurry hot.
He picks up his pace, trying to decide between holding Jensen down or touching
his pretty cock or or or. There’s so many things he wants to do to Jensen that
he ends up just collapsing, shoving his hands knuckle deep into Jensen’s hair,
fingers lost in a tangle of bio-green.
“Inside,” Jensen says, not totally dead.
It takes a second for Jared to get it but when he does, it's game over.
Jensen's the best thing that ever barged into his life, he's been everything to
Jared for so long and now, now he's asking for Jared to give everything to him.
He sucks all along Jensen’s neck, ruts into his ass like a dog, and quietly
explodes on a silent scream, sloppy pulses and horror-movie breathing. It takes
a while, but eventually he makes it back down onto the quilt and just sort of
stares up at the corrugated tin roof, falling down at one corner.
 
-
 
“Eight minutes, that was at least eight minutes,” Jared finally says, wheezy.
“I’m goddamn amazing.”
Jensen glances over, throat and chest already starting to mottle with red
bruises. It looks so good on him. “You were counting?”
“I tried,” Jared admits. “For a while. I kinda lost track though. Somewhere
around the time you started using your porn voice on me, I think. It was hot.”
“You’re hot,” Jensen retorts, like an insult, and when he reaches over to punch
Jared in the arm, they end up making out again for a worryingly long time.
 
-
 
“So I’ve been thinking,” Jensen says one day in July, after Jared graduates.
“You’re eighteen now, school’s out. Shit's changing. I think it’s about time we
move on.”
Jared shoots him a look, dry.
Jensen holds up a set of keys, brand new, like he had copies made from another
set maybe. “It’s not that cute yellow house you had your eye on or anything,
not yet anyway, sorry dear. But it’s close to your new campus and if you want,
we could—“
Jared huffs, already halfway to tackling Jensen in the middle of the grocery
store, a few people shooting them odd looks that probably have more to do with
Jensen’s neon spectacular atomic orange hair. “Just ask me already.”
And Jensen does.
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