Chapter Text
Bag packed. Miss Smith told him to leave the keys inside, her tone still clearly disappointed. Her excitement to hear from him quickly turned disheartened at the news he would not in fact be buying the house. Why would he? Jensen isn’t here anymore. Not that she needs to hear his reasons why he’s backing out after only a day. He apologizes, saying he’ll pay for the damages, which makes her squawk but he doesn’t delve into explanations. He tells her she shouldn’t have a problem now unloading the property. When she goes to ask him why, his voice fails him, and he forces out an excuse that he has to go.
As silly as it is, he buries Fred in the backyard. Jensen isn’t here, so Jared can only guess what he would want.
Then again, I didn’t seem to have a clue as to what he wants– wanted , he reminds himself, finding bitterness to be unavoidable in his misery.
There isn’t a box small enough, so he gently folds the spider’s corpse in a napkin. With his hands, he digs a fist-sized hole beneath the lone tree and places his lame shroud inside. He doesn’t say any words, because -while he feels ridiculous enough- he keeps thinking Jensen would want to be here for this and how the other man probably would have done everything differently.
He buries the glowing white of the napkin with handfuls of dirt until it’s thoroughly covered. On creaky legs, he stands, brushing his dirty hands against his pants. He spends another moment observing his sad excuse for a burial. He has the fleeting question of where Jensen could be buried or whether he was cremated. The thought floods Jared’s mouth with a sour taste, and he has to look away.
A yard over, Carl’s waxy scalp bobs beyond the fence. Jared saunters closer. With a left/right to confirm they’re alone, he drapes his arms over the fence. His chin rests between two picket points. He studies him against the bright gray of the sky, causing his too dry, swollen eyes to ache more.
With a delicate clearing of his throat, he asks, “Can you hear me?”
The older man continues in his nonsensical circuit. Oblivious.
“Are you lost?”
When there’s still no response, Jared rests his weight more against the fence, discouraged. The rough cut of the wood scrapes the underside of his jaw. He watches the spirit’s swiveling head, how his pale eyes roll in his skull. They seem to fix every so often on the house of the yard the spirit wanders. Jared looks between him and the house, thinking of his brother.
“You should leave,” he finds himself saying. “You’re not going to find your way in, and if you do, you won’t be happy in there… trust me, I know.”
He thinks now of Belinda— of Jensen.
“Whatever you’re looking for is gone.” A pain curdles in his chest, and he’s forgetting who he’s really talking to here. Hazel eyes drift to the house beside him and how truly deserted it stands now.
Voice brittle, he asserts, “You should let go.”
And with that, he turns away. Whether his message got through or fell on deaf ears, he doesn’t know. Right now, he doesn’t see the point in hanging around to find out.
Inside, he washes his hands of the remaining traces of grave dirt then collects his bag, not giving his surroundings more than a passing glance. He opens the front door -ready to step out- but pauses. He thinks about how weeks ago he was rushing to get out of this place.
Just as he goes to dash out, something solid and cooler than the breeze takes a strong hold of his forearm. He whirls around, his heart stopping.
Freckles. Green, green eyes wide and pleading. The streetlamp strains to illuminate the man’s otherworldly beauty.
“Please… You’re the only one who can help me, so… please.”
Once more, Jared tries to sense him. He feels the hollowness of the house, the stark absence of a heartbeat. Farther out, there’s still Belinda but, more shockingly, no Carl. Jared blinks as he absorbs that. The slow, meandering circles are gone. A corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief.
He couldn’t help Jensen, but he helped someone. Maybe.
Clinging to that, Jared shuts the door behind himself, his fingers dragging along the curves of the chilly handle.
He expects the drive to the airport to be tedious and uneventful. The radio plays -low and indistinct- just to fill the silence. He scans the road ahead for signs to turn onto the highway… Just ahead on the right. Turn signal flipped, he checks his blind spot. But just as he goes to do so, he feels it—like a heartbeat. He knows it.
A horn blares, and his attention snaps back to the road where he jerks the car back into his own lane. The couple in the Range Rover slowing just enough to flip him off and shout muffled obscenities before speeding off are largely lost on him. His gaze goes unfocused as he searches out for that feeling again.
… And there. He drives past the turn for the highway, knowing he needs to follow it. Much against his GPS’s insistence, he lets himself be led by the thrumming that’s so familiar to him. He tries to temper his hope. Lefts and rights and a couple of U-turns later, he finally pulls to a stop in front of a building. If there was a sign, he missed it.
The lobby is neat and unassuming. The reception area, empty. He stands just inside the automatic doors wondering if he’d gotten something wrong, but the buzzing heartbeat is so much stronger in here. Quickly, before he’s caught, he heads towards a set of double doors where his senses are telling him to go. He has to jump back as the doors soundlessly whoosh open, admitting an elderly man in a wheelchair being pushed by a young woman in scrubs.
“Angela said she’s bringing the kids today,” the man tells her happily. His eyes are bright behind his coke bottle glasses.
The nurse -Jared assumes- nods along. “How exciting! I know you’ve been missing those grandbabies of yours.” She gives Jared a polite smile as they pass, giving him the impression it’s not out of the norm for a stranger to be here. As the pair continue to chatter behind him, he steps through the closing doors.
The difference between the lobby and the hall is jarring. A white hall stretches before him, clinical and smelling of bleach. He passes mostly open doors, trying not to peek inside but unable to restrain himself. Hospital-like rooms populated by the old. Some sit in wheelchairs outside of their rooms like silent, blank-faced sentinels. Those times his eyes fall away to the tiles beneath his shoes. The line between life and death is so blurred here, he can’t tell the difference between them.
With growing confusion, he trusts his senses. They pull on him like a thread, and he follows down another winding hall to a door pushed to. It’s no different from the others, but Jared can practically feel the vibrations through the wood. Through the crack, he can hear a woman’s voice.
“--and I told her she can’t keep putting it off like she is, but you know your sister. It’s like she’s got a built-in mechanism that needs to contradict every little thing I say.”
Nerves swarming around irresistible curiosity, he pushes uncertainly at the door. As it inches inward, he follows closely on its heels. The first thing he sees is an older lady -maybe late fifties- standing at the foot of a bed.
“Just this bit more then I’ll give you a break,” she murmurs with one hand cupping a foot while the other cradles a skinny calf. She slowly bends and extends the leg in her hands two more times before placing it carefully back on the bed. “There, all finished,” she announces with a satisfied sigh, covering the limb under the sheets.
Trying to be respectful, Jared casts his eyes away from the bed and his heart lurches to his throat. There, standing in the corner, is—
“Jensen?” Jared gasps.
Looking shell-shocked and somehow exhausted, Jensen twitches at the sound of his name. His head jerks in Jared’s direction. He perks up, his green-eyed gaze wide and disbelieving.
“Jared–”
“Oh, hello there,” the woman unknowingly interrupts. Her smile is friendly yet surprised. “Can I help you?”
Reluctant to tear his eyes away from the one person Jared thought he’d never see again, he turns to the woman and the air is knocked from his lungs all over again.
Thin and sickly pale. Lying deathly still on the bed is Jensen.
Not like the Jensen Jared knows, broad and lively. Sunken hollows in bearded cheeks. Under the sheet, a chest imperceptibly rises and falls. Breathing.
Alive.
Jared whips his head back to his Jensen, but the woman is still waiting for him to explain why he’s in this clearly private room.
“Do you know my son?” she asks, appearing nervous now with his gaping. She shifts and places her body more squarely between Jared and the bed. “My son, Jensen? I could have sworn you said–”
“Yes!” Jared seizes upon the opening. He takes a deep breath to steady himself even though he’s far from that. “Yes, we knew each other years ago–” His scrambled brain stalls, his eyes glued to the figure in the bed.
“Tell her you know me through Chris,” Jensen instructs from the corner.
And Jared obeys, because the shock still clinging to him isn’t helping him think. “Through Chris. We, uh… go way back. I’ve been out of town, but I’m back visiting my aunt and, um–”
Wow, this imaginary aunt of his is getting a lot of mileage.
“Here… I am,” he finishes lamely and Jensen’s wrinkled nose acts as confirmation.
Luckily, mentioning Jensen’s long-time musician friend is enough for her. The apprehension clears from her face, replaced by a broad smile that momentarily strikes Jared dumb with how similar it is to her son’s.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise! Look, Jensen, it’s…”
“Jared,” he supplies, darting a look at Jensen before watching her turn to the bed’s occupant.
“Jared is here to visit you. Isn’t that nice?”
Of course, the man on the bed doesn’t respond -looking as if asleep- while his twin in the corner watches on, miserable.
“I’m Donna,” the woman introduces herself. Her hand is soft and warm when he shakes it. “I can’t begin to tell you how good it feels to still have Jensen’s friends coming by. It’s even been awhile since Chris has stopped by, but you know those rocker types. And listen to me gabbing away when I haven’t offered you a seat. Please.” Standing aside, she directs him to one of the chairs pulled up close to the bedside.
It takes Jared a second to parcel through the influx of words she’s aiming at him when his world has been inexplicably but inexorably rocked. Once he realizes she’s telling him to stay, to sit down, he hesitates. He’s here under false pretenses, but how could he leave? No one could tear him away from this room. So on stilted legs, he shuffles to the vacant chair that looks out to the rest of the room. He eases down, staring in wonder at the figure stretched out in repose before him.
“Can I get you anything to drink? The coffee here is terrible, but I make a mean cup of tea.”
Not taking his eyes off the lavender shade of Jensen’s resting eyelids, he nods. “Tea sounds great, thanks.”
In actuality, he doesn’t think he could hold a cup without shaking its contents all over himself.
“I’ll be right back,” Donna says. She pats at the mattress before departing. The door closes behind her with a quiet snick .
It’s silent save for the steady beeping of monitors. Aside from the heart rate, Jared doesn’t know what the other squiggles mean, but he doesn’t care. They’re extra confirmation that the person in the bed is alive. Jared marvels at every inch of him. Resting in front of him is a hand, square and freckled. He knows that hand -has felt its cool touch- yet at the same time he doesn’t. Objectively Jared knows it won’t feel cold…
A soft yet severe “Don’t” from across the room stops his questing fingers short. He looks past the resting profile to the shadowy corner.
“Holy shit,” Jared breathes. Baffled laughter bubbles up his throat. “Holy shit, Jensen, you’re alive–”
“Stop–” A fist goes to hit the wall at his back but halts before making contact. Eyes squeezed shut, Jensen grits out, “Stop saying that. I’m dead. I’ve been dead–”
“What?” Jared stares at him in perplexed delight. “You’re right here—breathing. You-you have a pulse.” He gestures at the monitor. “You’re alive. And I met your mom— Oh fuck, I met your mom.”
“I’m dead!” Jensen shouts, and as he says this, the beeping of the monitor speeds up. His mouth snaps shut. His lips tighten like he’s going to be sick. His weight slides down the wall, his body folding. His palms grind into his eyes. “... I–I don’t understand. Seven years I’ve been trapped in that house so how–” His adam’s apple jumps and judders. His voice rumbles in a destroyed rasp. “... It doesn’t make sense. How can I be there?”
Jared shifts forward in his seat. An irrepressible glee froths inside him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on either, but this is good. If we can just get you back in your body–”
“I don’t even recognize what that is,” he spits. A look of disdain flickers to the foot of the bed before returning to his lap. Jared notices that, in all this time, not once does Jensen look directly at his own emaciated form.
Jared looks at him now, noting the differences -the sallow pallor, the clear presence of bones under the skin, how the blankets piled on him swallow him up- but he doesn’t care. This is Jensen; that’s all that matters. And other things start to click in his head as well.
“It does make a little sense…” Jared starts tentatively, catching a sharp glare from Jensen that flits away. “How you got past my defenses, how you’re so strong. You’ve had a tether here. Now I don’t know how–”
The door swings open, announcing Donna’s return, so Jared falls silent. His eyes drill into the side of Jensen’s head, but the other man stubbornly keeps his face tipped down.
“Here we are. I forgot to ask how you take it, but you look like you could use something sweet.”
A steaming styrofoam cup is passed off between them. Jared’s polite grin slips into something more genuine. “How’d you guess I’ve got a sweet tooth?”
“A mother knows,” the older woman intones cryptically with a sly look as she walks over to her own seat on the other side of the bed. Honey brown eyes holding a knowing gleam stay on him for a little too long, so Jared focuses on his tea. Its warmth seeps into his palm and delicate licks of steam waft up to his face. He takes a sip, not tasting much more than heat and sugar.
“It’s delicious, thank you,” he says quickly, remembering his manners. He’s reassured when she gives him a pleased grin behind the rim of a ceramic mug with Snoopy and Woodstock fading on the side.
It’s quiet aside from the soft slurping of their drinks and the ever constant beeping of the monitor. Jared’s eyes float across a small sofa with a pillow and neatly folded quilt to a dresser littered with picture frames. Unfamiliar faces of friends and family, but the face that keeps popping up is Jensen’s. Younger and happy. In one, a girl with similar coloring smiles nicely at the camera while Jensen sits cross-eyed with his poking tongue bitten between his teeth. A soft grin pulls at Jared’s mouth looking at this.
He feels eyes on him. His attention shifts to find Jensen’s mother watching him.
With an awkward, not quite smile, Jared drops his gaze back down to his cup. It’s already half gone. “Sorry, I’m, uh, still… adjusting to…” He tries not to glance at the man lying before him.
“That’s quite alright. Anyone that knows Jensen knows how strange it is to see him so quiet,” she jokes with a fond look towards her son.
Surprised by this, Jared chuckles into his cup with eyes only for the man in the corner looking away with a rigid spine. “Definitely strange.”
She outright laughs at this. A loving, joyful sound that seems to brighten the room, gloomy despite the sunshine pouring in. “Well, that’s Jensen for you. Always had something smart to say.”
“Not to mention the bad jokes.”
Donna snorts into her tea, nodding. With a hasty swallow, she gasps, “Blame his father. Bunch of terrible comedians in the house during the holidays…” Her amusement fades as her eyes fall on the monitor, the IV bag steadily drip-dripping.
Sensing the shift, Jared finally finds the courage to ask what he’s been needing to. “... If you don’t mind my asking… What happened?”
At this, Jensen’s face angles a little towards them, his eyes still downcast.
“Well… As far as we can tell, he fell and hit his head. We don’t know how it happened. My husband found him after he’d been lying there for who knows how long–” Her voice catches, but she pushes on as if she’s relayed this information many times. “The doctors had to go in to relieve the swelling. It was touch and go for a while–”
“So what’s wrong with me?” Jensen grits out, but when he settles his frustrated gaze on his mom, it softens.
Jared wants to know that, too. The man in front of him seems fine apart from the muscular atrophy and lack of consciousness. “But he hasn’t woken up?”
“Not yet, but we’re not giving up.” With that, she reaches out to squeeze a lax wrist. “Especially since we got a good dose of hope the other day.”
“The other day?” Jared thinks back to their argument and Jensen’s sudden disappearance. “When—what happened?”
“Day before yesterday. I wasn’t here, unfortunately.” Her mouth turns down in shame as if there isn’t evidence scattered around the room that she’s here quite a bit of the time. “The nurse tending to him told me that all of the sudden the machines started going haywire. My heart about leapt out of my chest until she explained it was in a good way. His heartbeat’s gotten stronger and his brain activity has increased.”
“Brain activity?” Jensen climbs to his feet, panicked confusion written on his face. “What does she mean by that?”
Jared gives him a brief nod, his own worry showing. “Has that always been a concern, his brain? Is that what’s wrong? Why he hasn’t woken up?”
Honey brown eyes widen as he’s practically hovering on the edge of his seat. Her mug lowers to her lap. A thumbnail traces the rim in thoughtful circles. “... The doctors aren’t sure what’s keeping him from waking up. The swelling had gone down. He’s healed. He’s stable. There’s always been activity goin’ on up there, but–”
While Jensen cuts in with a hard, “But?,” Jared merely listens, his stomach tying itself in a knot.
Misty eyes drift from her son to Jared. Her voice chokes and strains past tremulous lips. “N–... No one is meant to be in a coma this long, and when the doctors don’t know–” Her fingers fly to her mouth to stem the sob.
Jensen remains frozen in his spot, looking pained and clearly wanting to rush over to his mom.
With a deep breath, she composes herself. Eyes still wet but steadier now, she straightens her posture, her fingers primly brushing graying blonde flyaways from her face. “I’m sorry. You’d think I’d be used to talking about this by now.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Jared sits in his chair, feeling awkward and useless. The look on Donna’s face is too similar to his own mom’s the rare times Jared returns home for a holiday and Jeff’s name inevitably comes up.
“We won’t know the extent of the damage -if there is any- until he wakes up. And that’s when and not if. ” The finality in her tone paired with the resolute jut to her soft jaw fills Jared with a nostalgic fondness.
“Now I know where he gets it from.”
“What?”
Jared’s small grin broadens when mother and son level identical, suspicious looks at him. “The Jensen I know is stubborn as all hell, too.”
Donna gasps in mock offense while Jensen -a tangle of emotions warring on his face- gives an anemic scowl. “Excuse you? I’ll have you know that’s another thing my husband can take responsibility for. He is the stubborn mule in our family, and all three of my children have unfortunately followed along in his footsteps– or hoof prints, rather.”
Just then a vibrating made harsh by plastic wood goes off. Donna leans over to check her phone where it lies on the bedside table.
“Speak of the mule,” she murmurs, rising and exchanging her mug for her phone. “If you’ll excuse me… When I get back, you can tell me how exactly you know my son.” She says this with another knowing look on her way out which sparks more heat in Jared’s cheeks than the half-drunk tea in his hand.
As soon as she’s out of sight, he only has eyes for Jensen standing across the room. The unconscious body between them acts as a barrier. Hearing the door close and knowing they’re alone, Jared is up and moving around the bed. He stops short, now a foot of space between them. Expression hard, Jensen studies him. There’s a chill to the air around him until his hackles drop and he takes the step necessary to collapse against Jared. The sudden freeze against Jared’s front was so missed, tears sting at his eyes. His arms wrap around the other man. Fingers sift through the hair at the base of Jensen’s skull as he buries his icy face into Jared’s chest.
Lips pressed to the crown of Jensen’s head, Jared murmurs, “You’ve never felt this solid before.”
Jensen merely grunts, snuggling closer like he wants to crawl inside.
But Jared isn’t done with his observations. His gaze flicks over to the waiting form on the bed. “... You know you could be solid all the time.”
At this, the slumped figure in his arms bristles. Jensen’s face extricates itself to give him a wary glare. “Just say what you’re trying to say.”
Jared’s mouth purses in reflex, but there’s so much he’s bursting to say. “I just don’t get how you’re not ecstatic about this. Yes, you thought you were dead all this time but -newsflash- you’re not! This is amazing. This is a literal second chance and–”
“Did you miss the part where my mom mentioned brain damage?” Jensen snaps, pulling out of Jared’s hold, and instantly Jared feels the keen loss of him. “I could be coming back as a vegetable, and how is that any better?”
“She said ‘if’! We can’t know until you try. Look around you, Jensen. You’re out of the house. Your body called you back here, because somewhere deep down, you’re ready.”
Arms crossed, Jensen snipes under his breath, “Yeah, ready to pull the plug–”
“Don’t say shit like that.” At Jared’s steely face, Jensen seems to look somewhat apologetic. “What happened to the million things you miss? You could have it all back.”
His own selfish want remains unsaid. This isn’t about Jared.
Hunched into himself, Jensen’s shoulders rise and fall in a miserable shrug. “But… why now? After all this time, why now?”
“Do you want the cheesy answer or the scientific one?”
Jensen glances at him, measured and hopeful. “Scientific,” he chooses.
“Damn.” Jared hangs his head with an irreverent quirk of his lips. “I was hoping you’d pick differently. Scientifically, I have no fucking clue but cheese-wise? …Maybe you found something that made you want to live again.” Hearing how that sounds, he jumps to add, “Like seeing your mom and family again, all of your friends… You can see them and, more importantly, they can see you.”
“... And what about you?” Green eyes slide to him apprehensively. “You somehow found me here. Will you be there?”
Jared pauses, pinned and frozen under a microscope. The habit of keeping others at an arm's length that he's fostered over the years rears its head. He hedges around answering with, “If you want me to.”
“If I want–” Jensen scoffs, drawing closer. His elbow knocks gently into Jared’s arm. “No wonder Fred and Velma are the ones coming up with the plans and solving the mysteries.”
“Hey! What did I say about calling me Shag–” He’s cut off with a cool press of lips. It’s effective, and when Jensen withdraws, Jared breathes, “Of course, I’ll be there.”
It’s the first time he sees Jensen properly smile since he stumbled in, and Jared knows how gone he is when those damn eye crinkles come out. All too quickly Jensen’s mirth is wiped away by a stern glare and wag of his finger.
“If this goes wrong, just know that somehow, some way, I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”
Bursting with love -because, damn it, that’s what it is- Jared just shrugs. “God, I hope so.”
They share a tender look before Jensen breaks it with a clap and nod. “Right. Okay. Let’s do this.”
Jensen finally rests his eyes on his own frail body. He flinches, but determination steals over his face. After another moment of inaction, he slouches, looking to Jared for help. “What do I do?”
“How should I know?” Jared gapes back, at a loss. “Try…” He motions with interlocking fingers. “Merging, maybe?”
Jensen stares at him, unimpressed. Eventually, he heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Thank God, you’re pretty.”
And with that, he takes a few steps closer to the bed. He scans the body in front of him, his fists clenching at his sides. Another step. He hesitates. Anxious green seeks out Jared, and Jared -feeling just as jittery- can only offer a reassuring smile. Seemingly bolstered by this, Jensen turns back to himself.
Jared tries not to blink as he focuses on both men. He doesn’t know what to expect or how long this could take. Donna could come back at any time. He doesn’t know what happened exactly, but one second his Jensen is standing there and the next, he’s gone.
“Jensen?” Jared whispers, alarmed. He rushes to the bedside, frantically searching for any sign that it worked. It can’t really be that simple, can it?
The air halts in Jared’s lungs as he stoops closer. His hands take a stranglehold around the bed’s railing. He tries to find any little difference but finds none. The man laid out before him remains still. Jensen’s chest rises and falls. Jensen’s face is passive. No twitch to his sooty lashes. The delicate skin of his eyelids stubbornly conceal green. He could easily pass for being asleep. It’s all Jared can do not to jostle him in his impatience.
Growing worried, he leans in even more and whispers, “Jensen?” His eyes flick to the side to study the monitor for any changes.
There are none as far as he can tell. When he turns his attention back, he’s struck paralyzed.
Green eyes stare sightlessly back at him. Before Jared can form a coherent thought, he has to jump back as Jensen surges off the mattress. His back bows with a deep, rattling gasp. At the peak of inhalation, he flops back. Harsh, painful-sounding coughs erupt past his chapped lips. The machines around him go wild.
Heart in his throat, Jared hovers over Jensen all the while. He looks around for water or ice chips or whatever you’re supposed to give someone in this situation, but all he has is the tepid dregs of Donna’s tea he left sitting on the floor. So instead he rubs at Jensen’s skinny bicep while the other man struggles to catch his breath. He whispers words of encouragement through a smile that can’t be wiped from his face.
“Just breathe. I’ll get you something to drink in a second.” He’s silently amazed at the warmth -the solid flesh and blood- under his touch. Excitement overflows inside him. “You did it. You’re back!”
Jared goes to brush a gentle kiss against a crown of overgrown hair, but he stops instantly when bloodshot eyes settle on his own.
There’s no recognition in those eyes. Jensen is stiff under his hand. If anything, Jensen is weakly pulling back from his touch.
The realization is a cold, piercing blade slipping between Jared’s ribs.
He doesn’t know me.
His suspicion becomes even more damning when the door to the room slams open.
“What’s happened? I heard alarms–” A squawk severs the rest of Donna’s words as her attention falls on her son and, in turn, her son’s eyes light up upon seeing her. Sobbing, she rushes over to Jensen’s side and unknowingly knocks Jared out of the way. Not that Jared feels it, watching as mother and son clasp hands.
People in scrubs come barging in, forcing Jared back further and further. They swarm around the bed, much to Jensen’s groggy confusion. A pen light gets shined in his eyes, which he jerks away from. Questions are thrown at him as his vitals are taken. Another nurse straightens the IV tubes he’d gotten tangled up in. Finally -blessedly- someone turns off the wailing of the machines. Through all this Donna doesn’t let go of her child, babbling happily with tears streaming down her face.
Jared watches this with a lightheaded disconnect. Despite the flurry of activity around the bed, not once does he take his eyes off Jensen. He almost can’t believe it. Jensen is alive and awake— But green eyes pass over him with detachment.
He doesn’t remember me.
How could that be?
His throat suddenly pulls so tight, it might snap. His chest caves in. His ribs shrink, so his lungs can’t expand to take a breath. The wall might be the only thing keeping him upright, but he can’t stay here.
“Sir, are you a spouse or family, because otherwise I’m going to have to ask you to step out.” Through the speckles of black dots eating at his vision, a heart-shaped face with yellow duckling scrubs peers up at him.
His numb lips part with nothing to say, but Donna’s jubilant voice, thick from crying, interrupts.
“Oh Jared, won’t you please stay? I need you to help me make calls, and Jensen needs familiar faces right now. Right, honey?” She looks to Jensen, but Jensen is staring at Jared no differently than the medical staff around him.
Dry lips open with another small cough. Then a weak rasp of, “... Who?”
It’s like a final, physical blow.
Jared blinks most of the wetness from his eyes. His jaw hardens and grinds with an agonized swallow. There’s a pressure in his skull, and his feet don’t feel like they’re on solid ground. He stands up to his full height just the same.
Right. Nothing in, nothing out.
Voice raked through gravel, he says, “I’ll get out of your hair.” He can’t raise his eyes higher than the bed’s footboard. “I–... I’m glad you’re back.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t know if he’s able to withstand more reinforcement of the fact that this last month might as well never have happened.
It all might as well never have happened.
It’s better to just get the hell out of here now.
He staggers out into the too white corridor. The wall has to save him from his off-kilter balance. It's cool and soothing to his burning forehead. Familiar. Like a cool palm.
Nothing in, nothing out. Nothing in, nothing out. Nothinginnothingout–nothinginnothingout–nothingnothingnothing—out-out-out—-
Biting down on the meat of his cheek, he focuses on the pain from that rather than—
Jared shoves off from the wall. He’s got a plane to catch anyway.
MONTHS LATER
“And that’s it for today. Thanks, everyone!”
Jared blinks as if coming out of a stupor. He looks around to find the crew packing up for the day. Are they done already? Feels like they just started.
“Hey.” Aldis is suddenly right there. The camera dangles at Aldis’ side, and without it pointed at Jared, he isn’t quite sure how to act. “You did good today.”
“Oh… thanks,” he responds, hearing how listless he sounds, so he pairs it with a grin. “You, too.”
There’s an awkward silence. He wonders if there’s something more he’s supposed to say, but without a script in front of him, he’s at a loss.
“Listen, um… Some of the crew are planning on going for dinner and drinks.” Aldis looks at him expectantly. “Would you like to join us?”
“Oh…” Jared’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. Not since things took a sour turn in season one has he been invited out by the crew. It could be good for him to go and socialize, get his mind off… things. But in the end, he attempts to joke, “After spending all day in a bar, I think I’m good, thanks.”
Their gazes rove around the dimly lit bar they’re currently on location at with its dark wood furnishings, brass fixtures, and sticky floor. Adrianne almost busted a capillary with all the sticking soles the microphones picked up. Not that it’s so bad. The only spirit here is a curmudgeon in the back that wants nothing to do with Jared or anyone for that matter. He only seems to pitch a fit on karaoke nights.
“Right. Well, I promise you we’re going somewhere less Cheers in need of antidepressants.”
“Come on, Jared, it’ll be fun,” Hannah pipes in with her makeup bag slung over her shoulder. There’s a small, pitying smile on her face.
While Jared has been less of a dick, she and Maddy have slowly thawed towards him. After all, they’re the ones who see him first thing in the morning with itchy, red eyes offset by sunken, purple bags from lack of sleep. Maddy had played with his hair with gentle fingers, saying she had just gotten over a breakup herself. Jared didn't have the energy to correct her.
In this instance, he still doesn’t have the energy.
Shaking his head, Jared musters up an apologetic smile. “Got that early call time tomorrow. I think I’m gonna catch up on some sleep. Maybe next time,” he tacks on to be polite and who knows, maybe someday he will.
While Aldis and Hannah appear disappointed, a passing light tech seems to breathe a sigh of relief as they pass by. Not everyone has warmed to Jared despite his slowly improving relationship with the crew. After all, they’re there for a job just like him. It’s not their fault he’s miserable.
“Keep this up and Rob just might kiss you,” Aldis jokes, leaning in. They clap hands and bump chests like friends–or at least on their way to being.
For a split second, Jared regrets not agreeing to come along, but he can’t risk having one drink too many and saying something stupid. No, tonight, Jared has a standing appointment with Jack, last name, Daniels. So he tries to shudder and laugh at Aldis’ joke, although it doesn’t seem too far off the mark. Rob has been positively gaga over Jared and his newfound work ethic which is show up, say the lines, and shut the hell up the rest of the time.
“You guys have fun,” he says just to get them to move on from him, even though he’s touched by their invitation.
Aldis nods, his eyes already following Serge’s new buxom assistant. “See you tomorrow,” he mumbles distractedly before trailing after her.
“Do you need help taking all that off?” Hannah asks kindly, even though she looks ready to leave.
Another offer of help that wouldn’t have happened if not for Jared’s ‘dead aunt.’ “No thanks, I think I’ve got it.”
“Listen to me, okay?” She steps up to him, all 5’4 and weirdly intimidating with the quick transformation from sweet to deadly serious. “I left a list of instructions with the products you’ll need. Micellar water is not the same as regular water. Gentle swipes. I swear I’ll know if you don’t. Make my job a little easier, okay?”
Jared bobs his head obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me,” she giggles with a light smack to his shoulder. “It ages me. And it’ll age you if you don’t follow my instructions. Premature wrinkles are no joke.”
“Yes, ma–young lady.”
“He learns!” Her severe expression melts away with a gratified curve of her shimmery lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Again, that urge to go creeps up on him, but he casts it aside. “I’m sure. Really.”
At his answer, Hannah’s smile recedes to one more sympathetic. Her small hand reaches up and gives his arm an encouraging squeeze. “It’ll get easier, but in the meantime? There’s nothing wrong with taking care of yourself or trying to have a little fun.”
“I know,” he says quickly, not meaning a word.
She seems to sense this, giving his arm another squeeze before her hand falls away. “See you tomorrow.”
Jared only waves, his hand dropping like a dead weight to his side as soon as her back turns. Warmth from this positive interaction tries to penetrate, but he still feels cold and hollow.
Nothing in, nothing out.
A mantra that’s exhausted its usage. Once he flung that door open, it’s been a struggle to seal it up again. Not that he’s been trying especially hard.
“If this goes wrong, just know that somehow, some way, I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”
Yeah, Jared is haunted, alright. Just not in the way he expected.
Exiting the bar, he takes a short moment to breathe in deep the fresh air. The persistent bite of winter clings to the beginnings of spring. After being cooped up in a stuffy bar most of the day, it helps wake him up a little even though he’s ready to find his ride back to the hotel and just sleep and sleep and sleep, only to wake up and do this all over again. Although he should really head to his trailer and do as Hannah requested first.
A small uproar catches his attention. Just across the cordoned off street behind a barricade is a cluster of spectators. They wave and call for him, and, inwardly, he shrinks. It’s to be expected when filming in a more populated area. No way is he going over there—
Jared’s escape route is destroyed by the ever lurking presence of Alex, the world’s most happy-go-lucky P.A. He loiters on the sidewalk outside Jared’s trailer, probably thinking today will be the day Jared will tell him all about his “Super Secret Spirit-Dispelling Mission.” Jared has been dodging that kid or sending him on frivolous errands before he could get another inane question out ever since he got back. Jared just does not have it in him today to fend that level of tenacious sunshine off.
He considers turning back around and waiting it out in the bar until Alex leaves, but the thought of returning to that oppressive atmosphere with the curmudgeon’s incessant grumbling for peace and quiet deters him.
Damnit.
He hangs his head. He can’t believe he’s going to do this.
Taking a fortifying breath and slapping on a genial grin, he walks across the street like he’s on his way to the gallows. More cheers flare up at his approach along with a small sea of smartphones rising to record him. Several voices talk over each other at once, asking questions about the location, did he see any ghosts yet, where’s the scariest place he’s ever been, and could he tell one fan’s daughter “Happy Birthday”?
It’s overwhelming to say the least. His answers come out stunted and awkward. He’s robotic, leaning into each selfie. While he’s fully regretting this out of character decision -the PR team will be pleased- it’s sort of nice to see faces genuinely happy to see him, to hear how much the show means to them, no matter Jared’s own personal feelings.
Currently he’s listening to a man complaining he’s convinced his house is being haunted by his mother-in-law.
“My keys always go missing. There’s holes ripped in the seat of all my pants. I can’t get through watching a game on the TV without the channel changing to Divorce Court or-or Cheaters . And of course, my wife doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m having a mid-life crisis–”
Patiently, Jared interjects, “My best advice is to try speaking to her. She’s clearly trying to communicate something to you.”
“Yeah, that even when she’s dead, she still thinks I’m a putz!”
Suddenly, a deep, whisky-smooth voice says over the chatter, “Hey Shaggy, where’s Scooby?”
The polite smile on Jared's face freezes.
Heads turn to find the heckler as -heart in his throat- Jared does the same. His eyes frantically search the faces of the densely-packed crowd–
And there. His eyes sting. Standing apart from the group with hands casually shoved in his pockets is Jensen.
Jared almost doesn’t believe his eyes. After all, his claim to fame is seeing things. But after a blink, Jensen is still there. Still tall and beautiful with an infuriating smirk. Under a barrage of scowls, green eyes remain fixed on Jared. Piercing and shrewd.
Without thinking, Jared hikes one leg and then the other over the wooden beam; much to the delight of some grabbing hands and the fright of the security guard stationed feet away. Jared pushes through just the same. Once he reaches just short of his goal, his legs lock. His eyes rove and devour every detail.
It’s strange to see the other man in a different outfit, looking dressed up compared to the dusty work clothes Jared is used to. How he’s just that little bit taller in boots. The beard is gone; his cheeks and jaw smooth, freshly shaved. His handsome face is fuller than it was at the hospital. The tip of his nose is flushed pink from standing out here in the wind for who knows how long. Those details pale compared to what stays the same.
Swallowing through the tightness of his vocal chords, he says in a wobbly tone, “I told you not to call me ‘Shaggy.’”
“Yeah, well…” Jensen shrugs. A pale hand rakes back the lock of hair that’s fallen over his eyes. Neatly trimmed but still that grippable length. “Old habits die hard.”
Jared wants to tell him that that’s a shit joke, but he really needs to know. “So you remember me?”
“Once the fog cleared.” Lips and an eyebrow quirk in mock confusion. “Which was like ten minutes after you left. You’d think you’d cut me some slack. I’ve just woken up from a coma; give a guy a minute to acclimate–”
As he speaks, Jared becomes aware once again of the audience they have blatantly recording this interaction. That drives him to grab Jensen by the arm -effectively shutting him up- and walk him to the barricade where security scrambles to let them through. There’s a chorus of disappointment and curiosity as they go. Jared totes Jensen behind him, single-mindedly thinking of the need for privacy.
“Not now,” he grits out as they march past Alex still hanging around outside his trailer. The intake of air the P.A. took to ask yet another question comes out in a gust.
Once up the steps and inside, Jared reaches past Jensen to slam the door and lock it, plunging them into silence.
:::
From standing to being dragged behind Jared at a fast clip to even those few steps up into the trailer is enough to wind him. Jensen tries to hide it by sucking quiet, deep breaths in through his nose and out through the careful parting of his lips. As much as he muffles his gulps of air, there’s no hiding his buckling legs and the way he practically collapses on the couch of the extravagant trailer.
Jared lets go of him as if burned, his hazel eyes wide and worried. “Are you okay?”
Jensen’s teeth clench. He’s gotten so sick of people asking him that, but the person now asking is Jared, and that makes it different.
“M’fine. My physical therapist will be pleased.” His cheeks fill with heat at how out of breath he still is. It worsens when Jared’s mouth slants with guilt, and he looks at Jensen like he’s a delicate, porcelain doll. Easily broken. Though that’s a simple assumption to make when he’s still so damn thin and some days he can be as weak as a newborn kitten after an especially taxing session of physical therapy.
Fuck, maybe he should have listened and held off on this trip for when he’s stronger and less resembling a walking skeleton. What was he thinking showing up like this?
“I didn’t hurt you dragging you like that, did I?” Jared hovers by the door, much too far for Jensen’s liking, but he doesn’t know what to say or how to act to fix that. The other man seems to struggle with the same issue.
“Again, I’m fine. Just need to sit for a bit. Very sexy of me, I know.” His shot at humor falls flat. He adjusts in his seat, casting his gaze elsewhere. His eyes trace the low gleam of a salon chair. He can feel Jared’s eyes on him.
At the same time, Jensen asks, “How’s it going?” while Jared asks, “How have you been doing?” They both stop, only to do it again with embarrassed grins.
“You first,” Jensen settles.
Jared slides onto the counter rather than sit any closer, and Jensen keeps that from affecting his expression. “How are you? What happened since…” And Jensen doesn’t need him to finish that question.
Jensen focuses on the former question. “I’m… good, I guess... It’s downright weird, to be honest,” he admits with a chuckle, causing a small grin to break out on Jared’s face. It spurs him to keep going. “Yeah, I have to remember to eat—which don’t get me wrong. I have sorely missed food. My first cheeseburger and beer was a religious experience. I get tired constantly– Sleep! I sleep again, which I can’t ever seem to get enough of.”
“All those fun, necessary things that make you alive and human,” Jared adds, looking a little tired himself despite the pounds of makeup on his face trying to conceal it.
“Every time I wake up, I expect to be back in that basement, looking up at that same ceiling at the base of those stairs.” The admission comes out more somber than wry. It’s something he’s never voiced aloud, knowing no one around him would understand—unless that person is the man staring sympathetically back at him.
“... So I take it you won’t be buying the house?” Jared eventually asks with a straight face. It’s the type of smartass remark to help jar Jensen out of his frequent despondent moods. Although his therapist insists they’re a normal response to his situation.
Jensen snorts, grateful he isn’t sinking into one of those now. Too nervous for that. “No, I believe I’ve spent more than enough time in that house… I take it you didn’t buy it either?”
“Why would I?” Jared shrugs. His legs swing a little. The soles of his shoes knock against the floor. “You weren’t there.”
Simple and as matter of fact as that. It gives Jensen hope that maybe he didn’t make this trip in vain.
“I don’t think I could take a step in that house without losing my mind or having some sort of episode.” As embarrassing as it is to say, it’s true. The house he once envisioned to be his forever home, the place he was planning to have a family in, almost became his forever prison. “Besides, I can’t imagine living there knowing Carl and Belinda are there.”
Jared’s face lights up at that. “Oh, I never got a chance to tell you: Carl isn’t there anymore.”
“What?”
“Yeah, uh…” Here, long fingers fidget in his lap, those many rings back in place and clinking together. “It was after I buried Fred–”
“Wait, you buried Fred?” Jensen says through mild shock. His brain tries to compute the image of the other man providing a burial for a spider.
Jared ducks his head and shrugs. “He was your friend and since you weren’t around… It’s not a big deal.”
“Well… thank you,” Jensen responds sincerely. Dipping his chin to stare at the floor, he takes a steadying breath. He’s surprised to be as touched as he is by Jared’s small act. He blames being alive on how easily his emotions rise to the surface now. With a sniff, he turns his eyes back up, more in control now. “So you were saying about Carl?”
“I, uh, talked to him. Well, I talked and he just wandered, but… I think whatever I said helped, because he was gone not long after.” A note of pride seeps through the almost shy recount.
“That’s great,” Jensen enthuses, worsening the blush streaking down Jared’s neck. He’s also happy for Carl. Seven years Jensen watched that white dome bob around. Although the man remains a mystery, Jensen is glad he’s moved on from his aimless circles in that backyard. And it’s all thanks to the man in front of him now.
“Look at you, helping ghouls. Me, then Carl.”
“You were never a ghoul.”
“And I never forgot about you.”
The sudden shift in topic creates a pin-drop silence. Not that Jensen minds it too much. He’s grown accustomed to uncomfortable silences when friends or family come to visit. Oftentimes they stem from things not said or something that needed saying.
“... I’m sorry I didn’t stick around after you woke up. I just–” Jared hunches over, elbows on his knees and palms grinding into his temples. When black-rimmed, hazel eyes land on him, they’re full of remorse and something else. A flash of resentment.
“When you looked at me… I was a stranger to you. I- I didn’t know how to react. It was like those weeks together never happened and-and I felt like I was crazy and -even more so- stupid for thinking–” He stops himself with a harsh flare of nostrils and his mouth, a bloodless line. “... You looked so lost already, I wasn’t going to push you. Your mom was so happy… I couldn’t intrude anymore.”
“She was plenty confused when I started calling for you,” Jensen retorts with heat in his voice. He immediately regrets it at the other man’s flinch.
“I’m sor–”
“Don’t apologize,” Jensen says more gently this time. “I was angry with you, at first.” And that information only serves to make Jared clam up more, but Jensen presses on. “I thought you realized how badly off I was, and you took the first chance you could to run. I thought you lied about being there for me… until I gave it more thought and tried to see things from your side. It’s kind of a blessing you left, because -despite being a ‘medical miracle’- the first month back… wasn’t pretty. I won’t dive into details–”
Jared didn’t need to be there to witness how unresponsive and useless Jensen’s body was, the spoon feeding and bedpan changing, how humiliating it all was, and how that humiliation mutated into fits of rage where he would hurl cruel words towards anyone in his vicinity or shut down entirely.
“It’s something you didn’t need to be saddled with,” he concludes.
Stiff and looking hurt, Jared grumbles, “You wouldn’t have been a burden to me if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I would have,” Jensen insists with finality. “I needed to find my footing again. Reconnect with my family and friends and put my life back together. Fuck, I had to learn how to hold a fork again, and even that can be a little iffy when I’m exhausted. But trust me, if I could, I would have chased after you as soon as I remembered.”
Jared sits back, mulling this over. Slowly, he begins to nod. “I see what you mean.”
But just as acceptance washes over his face, it’s swept away by a muddy mix of emotions. His fidgeting hands don’t seem to be enough, so he hops down from his perch and takes two long strides to the giant mirror in front of the salon chair.
“How come you didn’t contact me sooner?” he bites out. Metal clinks onto the counter as he sheds his numerous rings, leaving fingers bare and solely Jared’s again. His narrowed eyes busily scan the counter clustered with products. His hand hovers over one bottle before changing direction and snatching up a package. It crinkles under his hard grasp. Fingers fish out a wipe. Then he proceeds to scrub it harshly across his face. Beige streaks the cloth, and Jared’s even tan disappears to reveal a sallow complexion with dark circles under his eyes that can’t be blamed on eyeliner.
Jensen watches this, his stomach sinking. He might have underestimated the effect these last several months would have on the other man, believing all this time, Jared was back to living the celebrity high life and -as painful as it was to imagine- back to finding solace in other people’s beds. Although that doesn’t seem to be the case.
“I would have if I could,” Jensen offers. At least it slows Jared’s scrubbing while his attention remains fixated on his reflection. “You’re a tough guy to get a hold of. I didn’t have a number to call, so I had to resort to social media, and you know how awful that must have been for me.”
The tiniest curl lifts the corner of Jared’s mouth as he swipes the cloth across his forehead.
“But I never heard anything back.”
“Oh…” Jared pauses. “I don’t actually use those. There’s someone that runs those accounts for me, mainly just to advertise for the show.”
It’s obvious when Jensen thinks about it. All those messages he sent went unread only for the other man to post, encouraging others to tune in. “That’s… actually reassuring to know, because some of the stuff I was seeing was a little…”
“I can only imagine.” Jared darts him a commiserating glance before returning to clear away the remaining patches of foundation clinging to his jaw. “So then how did you know we were filming here?”
This is where Jensen’s mouth seals tight, and his ears turn hot. His hand comes up to rub at one in an effort to conceal it and also just to feel the heat of it, still finding the novelty in it. He doesn’t particularly want to answer but a little sacrifice of dignity might be enough to get the other man to look at him again. “Uh… Twitter–”
“What?” Jared exclaims. It worked, because hazel eyes stare at him.
“Twitter,” Jensen repeats grudgingly. “You’ve got groupies on there who are way too invested in your every move.” Which still bothers Jensen if he’s honest. “I saw a tweet with a blurry pic of you in front of that bar yesterday, and then I booked a plane ticket.”
The soiled makeup wipe lowers from Jared’s freshly-scrubbed face. His gaze is soft yet penetrating. “You came—just like that?”
“Well…” And this part is not going to be any easier. “Not without some compromise.”
“Meaning?”
He clears his throat to buy time, then he adjusts his collar, distinctly uncomfortable in the nicer clothes he was advised to wear. Still, he mumbles, “... My mom insisted she come with me.”
Jared’s mouth drops, and it turns into an open-mouthed smile. “Really? Where is she?”
“Back at the hotel and trust me, it was all I could do to get her to agree to stay there.”
And that was a whole other battle after a series of battles from her prying information out of him about who exactly Jared is to him, to why Jensen suddenly needed to hop on a plane.
Tossing the wipe in a small trash can under the counter, Jared turns and leans against it. His arms casually cross over his middle. “So, erm, what did you tell her about me?”
“Not that we met when I was a ghost, for one. I’m already in enough therapy. I just told her you were a guy I knew before the accident.”
Not that his mom bought that at face value.
“That’s all you told her?” Jared probes, doing a fair job of smothering his curiosity.
“You met her. Do you think she would be satisfied with that answer?”
“I doubt it.”
“Exactly, but she seemed to come to her own conclusions. The way she puts it, she could tell there was history there by the way you looked at me when you came to visit.” Jensen smirks, enjoying the other man’s blushing mortification.
Never mind that Jensen omitted how desperately he called for Jared and his clear devastation to discover Jared was gone, nor the several occasions Jensen was caught watching the other man’s terrible show with heart eyes or how much Jensen fussed over his appearance before departing from the hotel. Honestly, the list could go on.
“Did she? … Well, your mom is quite the woman,” Jared admits with a fond grin. The bridge of his nose is stained pink, and oh, how Jensen has missed that blush.
Jensen readily agrees, “That she is,” because all the prying and constant hovering aside, he doesn’t know what he would have done without her.
For seven years, she stayed by his side, not once giving up on him. Jensen’s dad would tell him how she argued with the doctors when they said there wasn’t anything more they could do for him or how she retired from teaching only to devote that newfound free time at his bedside. He can’t thank her enough, not that she lets him try. “It’s what any mother would do for their child,” she’d say each time, waving him off. Although this time, she did send him off with the clear instructions to fix things with his Jared and for the two of them to take her out to dinner once they got themselves sorted out, because “That Jared was such a sweet young man. And handsome, too!”
In the silence that follows they play a game of tag, shooting glances at each other. While there's discomfort, there’s also expectation dangling in the air. Jensen knows what he came here to do -or, at least, hoped to do- but there’s a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross or what he can say to approach it. It seems as if they’ve been circling it this entire time.
Thankfully, Jared does it for him, hanging his head with a grinning huff.
“I don’t know why this is so hard. When I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second. But now that you’re here in the flesh? I don’t know what to do,” he finishes with a helpless shrug.
With a resigned chuckle, Jensen can’t help but agree. “I know what you mean.” He studies the other man’s profile, the defined lines of him paired with the soft fall of his hair hanging over his eyes and tickling his jaw. Jensen wishes he could reach out and touch him—
What the hell am I doing?
Legs still weak, he gets up with the support of the arm of the couch. He closes the distance between them with shaky steps. All the while Jared watches him with incredulity. When Jensen is standing right in front of him, a gulp ripples down his throat. His hands go willingly into Jensen’s, held fast between them. He’s warmer than Jensen remembers, and that’s only because Jensen was never able to feel him properly.
It’s a heat he wants to keep.
“I’m here, because I want you.”
Traces of black still smudged around them, Jared’s eyes widen. Jensen has missed that baffling blend of blue and green with that starburst of gold.
“I want to do this right: Dating, getting to know each other all over again and spending time together. I want to give what we had back at the house a real shot—even if it's long distance, because you’ve got the show. I’m willing to do that–”
“Actually…” Jared gently intervenes. It accelerates Jensen’s heart rate in fear, making this one of those instances he’s not happy to have it. “That’s something we wouldn’t have to deal with for too much longer.”
Jensen frowns, still nervous. “What do you mean?”
Teeth worry a plump, bottom lip. “This is my last season. I’m done after this.”
“What—how?” Shock isn’t enough as he thinks back to the horrorshow constraints keeping Jared where he’s at and the impossibility of leaving.
Jared merely shrugs, jostling their joined hands but they hold tight. “My agent hates me for it and I’m going to take a hell of a financial hit, but I made it clear I’m not doing this anymore… Besides, I’m fairly sure ratings are going to go down anyway now that I’m following Curtis’ script verbatim,” he adds with a smug grin.
“So what will you do then?”
“I have no idea,” Jared says with a laugh. There’s a new lightness about him now, having said all that out loud. “I do know I want to do what I originally set out to do. I want to help people. No lies, no theatrics, and certainly not televised.”
Jensen snickers at this.
“I don’t know how I’m going to go about any of that, but I’ve got time to figure it out… Some asshole showed me that,” Jared concludes with a smirk and a squeeze to Jensen’s hands.
While pride fills Jensen’s chest, doubt still clings there. “So do you want to—with me?”
Aware of his flaws and limitations, Jensen can feel himself shaking. And if he can feel it, certainly Jared can, too.
“Jensen,” Jared starts, the sharp planes of his face drawn. “To quote you: Thank God, you’re pretty.”
At Jensen’s disbelieving scoff, Jared yanks Jensen flush to him, causing his pulse to jump again. “I was willing to buy a house just to be with you. What the hell do you think?”
Instead of answering with words, Jensen leans up the last remaining inches and presses his lips to Jared’s. It’s like the first time all over again but better. He can truly feel Jared this time: The plush give of his wide mouth, the heat and pressure, and taste the coffee he must have had.
The piece of Jensen that’s been missing throughout recovery has slotted back into place.
When they finally do part, Jared casts heavy-lidded eyes down on him. “Wow, I didn’t even have to tell you to ‘go solid,’” he points out in a hushed tone. “And you’re so warm, too.”
Smile a little cocky to disguise his relief, Jensen leans more of his weight against Jared. He trusts the other man to hold him up. “Comes with the territory of having a pulse.”
“Nah,” Jared disagrees with a wrinkled nose. “It’s still a little weird. What are your thoughts on ice play?”
Jensen’s puffy lips fall open, flabbergasted.
“Jensen Ackles,” Jared says with a scandalized gasp. “Are your ears turning red?” He playfully pinches one of the burning lobes between his fingers.
Shaking off the hold, Jensen can feel how he boils even more. “Shut up,” he murmurs with a smile failing at being a scowl. He pulls Jared down for another kiss bubbling with laughter.
It’s good to be alive.
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