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I Like Where You Sleep (When You Sleep Next to Me) (A Creative Control OneShot)
Title: I Like Where You Sleep (When You Sleep Next to Me) (A Creative Control OneShot)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raeschae
Pairing: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3000ish
Summary: Cohabitation may very well be the next step in Jensen's relationship with Jared, but that doesn't mean that Jensen's ready to take it.
A Creative Control time stamp.
A/N: Title comes from hellogoodbye's Here (In Your Arms).
“I want you to move in.”
If there's a soundtrack to Jensen's life, the needle on the record just scratched so loudly, he thinks maybe it ruptures his ear drum.
He doesn't respond because, well, he can't. This is not the kind of bomb you drop on a guy after fucking his brain out of his head. It's not the kind of proposal that should be discussed while boneless and naked and sweating. It's not the kind of thought you should entertain with come drying on your belly.
Jensen knows that he's good with the sex (Jared seems to be particularly avid fan) but, as far as he knows, he's never fucked anyone completely stupid before. Until now, apparently. It's the only explanation he can fathom for such a ridiculous statement. Jared's clearly lost all cognitive brain function.
“Jensen?”
He can feel Jared's body turn toward his, the way he hitches himself up on his elbow and stares down. There are forty three glittered flecks in the ceiling tile directly above his head. Jensen knows because he can't force himself to look Jared in the eye and counting glitter flecks seems to be the best suitable distraction.
“Hey.” He's like a dog with a new rawhide when he gets an idea in his head. It's probably what makes him a good director. Makes him an annoying-as-fuck boyfriend, though. “Look at me.”
Forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose and back out through his mouth, Jensen turns his head and gives Jared his best lazy, fucked-out grin. “Hi.” He's not exactly trying to be distracting, but if Jared loses his train of thought or something, Jensen won't complain.
Of course, Jared's not the kind of guy who's thought train jumps the tracks very often, so he just fixes that concerned look on his face and trails the hand not propping up his head over Jensen's bicep and down his forearm. “You hear me?”
He knows, of course, that Jensen heard him. Just as surely as Jensen knows Jared's hand is making its way toward his wrist. Sure enough, he brushes his thumb over Jensen's racing pulse point and that crease in his brow furrows even deeper.
“Don't frown. You'll get wrinkles.”
Jared doesn't appreciate the tip. “Ignoring me isn't going to make me take it back.”
Of course it's not. He's been throwing the offer out into the atmosphere every chance he gets for the last three months. It started out subtle enough at first, with Jared pointing out that Jensen spends as much time at his house as he does in his own apartment, probably more, and it's stupid to spend the money on rent when he's never there. Over time, though, he's gotten less covert in his prodding. And it's about to stop being amusing.
“I need a shower,” is Jensen answer as he rolls off the bed and away from Jared's soothing touch. He doesn't point out that Jared wouldn't have to calm him down if he didn't get him all worked up like this in the first place.
Thankfully, Jared doesn't try to stop him. He's good at knowing when to push Jensen, and when to back the fuck off. He's good at pretty much everything.
So why doesn't Jensen just make the leap and move the fuck into this house that he practically lives in anyway? A normal person would, wouldn't they? It makes him some kind of freak, doesn't it? That he doesn't want to move in with the his hotter-than-legal boyfriend? After nearly a year together, no less. His own mother is asking him when he's going to take the plunge, for fuck's sake. He should just clean himself up, step out of the bathroom, and say 'Okay.'
He should, but Jensen knows damn well he won't. Not because he's stupid, or even incapable of forming the word. But because the thought of giving up his space, that part of his life that is his, and only his, is terrifying. Add another tick to the 'freak' column, but Jensen's never had a serious relationship before, and even though he can admit that he's crazy about Jared, that he loves him like he never expected to, he doesn't know how to do this.
Jensen's always been an independent guy. Since he was a kid, he's been determined to do things his own way, whether anybody else liked it or not. Conforming to accommodate someone else isn't something he's ever been interested in, and now that he thinks about it sometimes, it throws him off.
The bottom line is that Jensen has issues with commitment. And not just the relationship variety, either. He loves his job because it's never the same thing two days in a row. The thought of living a predictable, boring life sticks under his skin like needles and crawls through his veins like a million tiny fire ants.
But for a guy who lives for the spontaneous, Jensen's not so good with change. Oh, little things are fine. The shit that gets thrown at him on the set? Revisions to scripts and last-minute details that he has to turn around on a moments notice are no problem. Spur-of-the-moments plans to go out with Steve and Danneel, or to take off for a weekend in Vegas with Jared don't faze him in the least. But major life changes? Like giving up his apartment and moving in with his boyfriend? He'd rather stab himself in the eye with a fork.
He scrubs himself clean and stands under the spray a little longer than is probably necessary. He'd be lying if he said he isn't hoping Jared will just pass out and forget this whole thing when they wake up in the morning.
But Jared is still Jared, and it doesn't matter how long they just spent rolling around the bed like sex is an Olympic sport, he's not going to just let it go. Jensen knows that, so it's not a total surprise when he shuts the water off and hears the bathroom door open.
To his credit, Jared doesn't say anything. Through the tempered glass door, Jensen can see him pull the toilet seat up, as if this is any other day and he didn't just send Jensen into hiding until the water turned too cold to be comfortable. He remains silent while he turns to the sink and washes his hands before cleaning himself off with the rag Jensen sat out for him while his water was heating up twenty minutes ago.
When he turns toward the shower, Jensen sees him lean back and brace his hands against the edge of the sink. “You gonna try to wait me out?” He hoists himself onto the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Cause I can sit here all night. And you're gonna get cold.”
With a roll of his eyes and a huff, Jensen slides the door back and grabs the towel from the rack. “What are we? Kids?”
“Nah,” Jared shakes his head, eyes serious and tone sarcastic. “You runnin' off to hide in the shower is definite man behavior.”
“Jay,” Jensen steps forward and rests his hands against Jared's thigh. If he can't hide, he might as well try the next best thing in getting Jared's mind off the topic at hand. Sometimes he hates how easily he falls back on old, seductive habits. “Come on, man. We were havin' a good time.”
The truth is that it hasn't always been easy, being Jared's boyfriend. He doesn't know what he's doing half the time, and the other half, he's well-aware that he's testing boundaries and pushing limits. Neither is the most admirable of traits.
Jared covers his hands and stops his upward progress. “Jen, I love you,” he says, eyes narrowing as he waits for the inevitable cringe that always follows those words.
Jensen doesn't mean to, but for small words, they pack a powerful punch. Sometimes he still wonders why Jared wants to have anything to do with him at all, and it's not so easy to believe that he's loved in spite of the fact that he's a little, to put it mildly, difficult.
“I know it's a big step,” Jared assures him, spreading his thighs wider to pull Jensen close. One hand traps his fingers against Jared's leg, while the other wraps around his neck and rubs softly at the hairs there. “But you're in this, right? With me?” Jensen just nods. “I don't wanna push you. I get that you like having your own space, and I don't want you to feel cramped or crowded, okay? But,” he stops and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he's trying to decide how best to say whatever's on his mind. “Jensen, your lease is up in two months. If you sign another one? We're what? Doin' this same dance for another year? I don't know if I can do that.”
“I can't have this conversation with you right now.”
Jensen pulls back and turns, but Jared catches his wrist. “Come on, man. Don't walk me off on this one. Please.”
“Can we at least put some pants on?”
So maybe it's a lame attempt to buy more time, but he can't talk to Jared about what is probably the single biggest turning point in their relationship while he's draped in a towel and Jared is naked on the bathroom counter. It's just too fucking weird.
“Yeah, alright,” Jared nods and jumps off of the counter.
He leaves Jensen without another word, and for the longest time, Jensen just stands there. Waits and listens until Jared has moved through the room, found a pair of shorts or pajama pants, pulled them on, and then headed out of the bedroom. He's going to the kitchen, and Jensen can't hear it, but he can see it clearly in his mind.
Jared's frustrated, which means that he's brewing tea over the stove. He doesn't even really like it that much, but it takes time to do it in a way that he can actually stand to drink it, so that's what he does when he needs to busy his hands and focus his attention. If he was pissed, he'd just pop the tab on a beer can and drain half of it in one, steady pull.
Jensen steps out of the bathroom and walks automatically to Jared's side of the bed. He doesn't even stop to think about the fact that he's grabbing pillows from the floor and tossing them back onto the bed until it's done and he's sliding the drawer of Jared's bedside table open to check his condom supply.
That's when it hits him. Right there, doing the most mundane thing in the world.
He doesn't like change because he doesn't handle well the fear of the unknown. For him, giving up his own place and moving in here constitutes letting go of a world that is comfortable, and safe, and launching into something he still hasn't figured out, and maybe never will. It means that he's not just looking out for himself anymore, but fully merging his life with someone else. There are a million ways that it could go wrong, and Jensen doesn't handle failure all that well.
But as he slides Jared's drawer shut, he realizes that this life he has with Jared isn't unknown at all. He doesn't have to see Jared to know what he's doing right now. And he didn't have to see the pillows on the floor to know that Jared threw them there as soon as they walked into the bedroom a couple of hours ago. It's what he always does.
He doesn't have to think twice about checking the condom supply because he knows that it's his job to make sure that they're where they're supposed to be. Their sex life runs a little like a movie set. Jared's the director, and he'll make sure that everyone is satisfied with the end product. Jensen's the PA who makes sure that Jared has everything he needs to do his job. It's not something they've ever discussed, but Jensen knows that they both understand their roles, and that they're both happy to play them.
He knows that, if he picks it up and checks right now, his iPod is loaded with episodes of his favorite shows, and a couple of the new movies that he's been wanting to check out. Jared makes sure that it's ready at a moment's notice, in case Jensen needs to veg with a few cigarettes and some mind-numbing television after a particularly hard day. He knows that Jared bought the new lounger out on the deck, teak with plush, comfortable cushions, just for him to have his own place to escape, even though he's never asked, and Jared's never admitted that.
Tomorrow morning, Jared will hit the snooze three times before he drags himself into the shower, and then he'll start trying to wake Jensen up an hour before he actually has to roll out of bed. He'll start by kissing Jensen's neck and shoulder. He'll whisper filthy things against Jensen's ear, and devote the entire sixty minutes to coaxing him out of the bed before finally smacking Jensen's hip and telling him to get the hell up. And he'll be looking at Jensen like he's everything in the world that means anything when Jensen finally pries his eyes open and grumbles about how much he hates mornings.
If he wanted to go back to his apartment, he would have to pack a bag. All of his clothes are here, on his side of the closet, and in his half of the dresser. Most of his dvds are in the tower out by the television and his books have made their way onto the shelves in Jared's office, shoved in with all of Jared's so that neither of them really remembers which ones belong to which of them anymore.
When he makes his way into the kitchen, Jared is staring at the stove and tapping his foot against the floor. It means that he's impatient, and he's acting like it's the tea kettle that he's waiting on, but Jensen knows that it's not.
He drags his hand over Jared's bare back on his way to the refrigerator and when he looks up from withdrawing a bottle of water, Jared's eyes are raking over him skeptically. “What?” Jensen asks, smiling around the lip of the bottle.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Jensen shrugs and leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “They're my favorite, man.” He'll defend his threadbare pajama pants to the grave, even if they are ten years old and faded to the point that you can barely make out the little Homer Simpsons all over them.
“Your favorite?” Jared's barely managing to hold back his grin, his expression a mixture of skepticism and amusement. “How come I've never seen 'em before?”
Jensen shrugs. “Only wear 'em at home,” he answers easily, tipping the bottle again and letting the words settle in the air between them. He just hopes that Jared figures it out without a flashing neon sign. Just because the decision is made, he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it or anything.
“Why?” Jensen tilts his head, confused by the question, so Jared elaborates with, “Is it because you think you have to? That I'll break up with you or something if you don't? Because that's not what I meant.”
Jensen just pushes off the counter and steps across the distance between them. “It's because it's time,” he nods his head, more sure of this decision than any he's ever made. “Dude, I don't know if you've noticed, but I pretty much live here anyway. Why not make it official?” He rests his hands on Jared's waist and dips his head when Jared moves to kiss him. “I'm not a freeloader, though. I'm gonna pay you rent.”
Jared just rolls his eyes. “I'm not charging you rent. You're my boyfriend.” Off of Jensen's look, he flexes his shoulders and stares at the ceiling, like he's trying to come up with a suitable negotiation. “Alright. You can pay for . . . food or something. I don't know. We'll figure it out later. Hell, I'll take it out in trade.”
When he pulls Jensen in again, Jensen side-steps once more. “Dude, come on. I'm not gonna be your kept boy. I'm gonna pull my own weight.”
Sighing heavily, Jared catches Jensen's shoulders. “You seriously wanna talk about money right now?”
Jensen doesn't. What he really wants is for Jared to lay him out on the dining room table, or right here on the kitchen floor. That would be a hell of a lot easier, anyway. “No, but Jared, this is kinda huge for me, okay? If I'm gonna do it, I wanna make sure that I do it right.”
He worries about screwing things up at work, or not being able to get them done the way the director or producers want them. But this thing with Jared? It's so much more important than that. There's no room for error here.
This time, when Jared traps his face between those enormous hands and backs him up against the counter, Jensen doesn't have time to dodge the contact. Jared's so close, they're sharing air, and he can't look away from those laser-intense hazel eyes.
“We're gonna do what we've always done, okay?” Jared's lips press hot against his cheek and trail over Jensen's jaw to his ear. “The only way we can. Our way, okay?” Jensen just nods, head falling back a little when Jared presses his thigh tight and hard between Jensen's legs. “Now can we please talk logistics later? I'd kinda like to celebrate the fact that my boyfriend is moving in with me now.”
Maybe Jared's right. The way his mouth works at Jensen's neck and his hands push the thin pants off his hips, he can barely remember his own name anyway, let alone whatever he was worried about a minute ago. When he's here, with Jared, it feels like maybe he can let go of everything else and just be himself.
It feels like maybe he's home.
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Author:
raeschaePairing: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3000ish
Summary: Cohabitation may very well be the next step in Jensen's relationship with Jared, but that doesn't mean that Jensen's ready to take it.
A Creative Control time stamp.
A/N: Title comes from hellogoodbye's Here (In Your Arms).
“I want you to move in.”
If there's a soundtrack to Jensen's life, the needle on the record just scratched so loudly, he thinks maybe it ruptures his ear drum.
He doesn't respond because, well, he can't. This is not the kind of bomb you drop on a guy after fucking his brain out of his head. It's not the kind of proposal that should be discussed while boneless and naked and sweating. It's not the kind of thought you should entertain with come drying on your belly.
Jensen knows that he's good with the sex (Jared seems to be particularly avid fan) but, as far as he knows, he's never fucked anyone completely stupid before. Until now, apparently. It's the only explanation he can fathom for such a ridiculous statement. Jared's clearly lost all cognitive brain function.
“Jensen?”
He can feel Jared's body turn toward his, the way he hitches himself up on his elbow and stares down. There are forty three glittered flecks in the ceiling tile directly above his head. Jensen knows because he can't force himself to look Jared in the eye and counting glitter flecks seems to be the best suitable distraction.
“Hey.” He's like a dog with a new rawhide when he gets an idea in his head. It's probably what makes him a good director. Makes him an annoying-as-fuck boyfriend, though. “Look at me.”
Forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose and back out through his mouth, Jensen turns his head and gives Jared his best lazy, fucked-out grin. “Hi.” He's not exactly trying to be distracting, but if Jared loses his train of thought or something, Jensen won't complain.
Of course, Jared's not the kind of guy who's thought train jumps the tracks very often, so he just fixes that concerned look on his face and trails the hand not propping up his head over Jensen's bicep and down his forearm. “You hear me?”
He knows, of course, that Jensen heard him. Just as surely as Jensen knows Jared's hand is making its way toward his wrist. Sure enough, he brushes his thumb over Jensen's racing pulse point and that crease in his brow furrows even deeper.
“Don't frown. You'll get wrinkles.”
Jared doesn't appreciate the tip. “Ignoring me isn't going to make me take it back.”
Of course it's not. He's been throwing the offer out into the atmosphere every chance he gets for the last three months. It started out subtle enough at first, with Jared pointing out that Jensen spends as much time at his house as he does in his own apartment, probably more, and it's stupid to spend the money on rent when he's never there. Over time, though, he's gotten less covert in his prodding. And it's about to stop being amusing.
“I need a shower,” is Jensen answer as he rolls off the bed and away from Jared's soothing touch. He doesn't point out that Jared wouldn't have to calm him down if he didn't get him all worked up like this in the first place.
Thankfully, Jared doesn't try to stop him. He's good at knowing when to push Jensen, and when to back the fuck off. He's good at pretty much everything.
So why doesn't Jensen just make the leap and move the fuck into this house that he practically lives in anyway? A normal person would, wouldn't they? It makes him some kind of freak, doesn't it? That he doesn't want to move in with the his hotter-than-legal boyfriend? After nearly a year together, no less. His own mother is asking him when he's going to take the plunge, for fuck's sake. He should just clean himself up, step out of the bathroom, and say 'Okay.'
He should, but Jensen knows damn well he won't. Not because he's stupid, or even incapable of forming the word. But because the thought of giving up his space, that part of his life that is his, and only his, is terrifying. Add another tick to the 'freak' column, but Jensen's never had a serious relationship before, and even though he can admit that he's crazy about Jared, that he loves him like he never expected to, he doesn't know how to do this.
Jensen's always been an independent guy. Since he was a kid, he's been determined to do things his own way, whether anybody else liked it or not. Conforming to accommodate someone else isn't something he's ever been interested in, and now that he thinks about it sometimes, it throws him off.
The bottom line is that Jensen has issues with commitment. And not just the relationship variety, either. He loves his job because it's never the same thing two days in a row. The thought of living a predictable, boring life sticks under his skin like needles and crawls through his veins like a million tiny fire ants.
But for a guy who lives for the spontaneous, Jensen's not so good with change. Oh, little things are fine. The shit that gets thrown at him on the set? Revisions to scripts and last-minute details that he has to turn around on a moments notice are no problem. Spur-of-the-moments plans to go out with Steve and Danneel, or to take off for a weekend in Vegas with Jared don't faze him in the least. But major life changes? Like giving up his apartment and moving in with his boyfriend? He'd rather stab himself in the eye with a fork.
He scrubs himself clean and stands under the spray a little longer than is probably necessary. He'd be lying if he said he isn't hoping Jared will just pass out and forget this whole thing when they wake up in the morning.
But Jared is still Jared, and it doesn't matter how long they just spent rolling around the bed like sex is an Olympic sport, he's not going to just let it go. Jensen knows that, so it's not a total surprise when he shuts the water off and hears the bathroom door open.
To his credit, Jared doesn't say anything. Through the tempered glass door, Jensen can see him pull the toilet seat up, as if this is any other day and he didn't just send Jensen into hiding until the water turned too cold to be comfortable. He remains silent while he turns to the sink and washes his hands before cleaning himself off with the rag Jensen sat out for him while his water was heating up twenty minutes ago.
When he turns toward the shower, Jensen sees him lean back and brace his hands against the edge of the sink. “You gonna try to wait me out?” He hoists himself onto the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Cause I can sit here all night. And you're gonna get cold.”
With a roll of his eyes and a huff, Jensen slides the door back and grabs the towel from the rack. “What are we? Kids?”
“Nah,” Jared shakes his head, eyes serious and tone sarcastic. “You runnin' off to hide in the shower is definite man behavior.”
“Jay,” Jensen steps forward and rests his hands against Jared's thigh. If he can't hide, he might as well try the next best thing in getting Jared's mind off the topic at hand. Sometimes he hates how easily he falls back on old, seductive habits. “Come on, man. We were havin' a good time.”
The truth is that it hasn't always been easy, being Jared's boyfriend. He doesn't know what he's doing half the time, and the other half, he's well-aware that he's testing boundaries and pushing limits. Neither is the most admirable of traits.
Jared covers his hands and stops his upward progress. “Jen, I love you,” he says, eyes narrowing as he waits for the inevitable cringe that always follows those words.
Jensen doesn't mean to, but for small words, they pack a powerful punch. Sometimes he still wonders why Jared wants to have anything to do with him at all, and it's not so easy to believe that he's loved in spite of the fact that he's a little, to put it mildly, difficult.
“I know it's a big step,” Jared assures him, spreading his thighs wider to pull Jensen close. One hand traps his fingers against Jared's leg, while the other wraps around his neck and rubs softly at the hairs there. “But you're in this, right? With me?” Jensen just nods. “I don't wanna push you. I get that you like having your own space, and I don't want you to feel cramped or crowded, okay? But,” he stops and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he's trying to decide how best to say whatever's on his mind. “Jensen, your lease is up in two months. If you sign another one? We're what? Doin' this same dance for another year? I don't know if I can do that.”
“I can't have this conversation with you right now.”
Jensen pulls back and turns, but Jared catches his wrist. “Come on, man. Don't walk me off on this one. Please.”
“Can we at least put some pants on?”
So maybe it's a lame attempt to buy more time, but he can't talk to Jared about what is probably the single biggest turning point in their relationship while he's draped in a towel and Jared is naked on the bathroom counter. It's just too fucking weird.
“Yeah, alright,” Jared nods and jumps off of the counter.
He leaves Jensen without another word, and for the longest time, Jensen just stands there. Waits and listens until Jared has moved through the room, found a pair of shorts or pajama pants, pulled them on, and then headed out of the bedroom. He's going to the kitchen, and Jensen can't hear it, but he can see it clearly in his mind.
Jared's frustrated, which means that he's brewing tea over the stove. He doesn't even really like it that much, but it takes time to do it in a way that he can actually stand to drink it, so that's what he does when he needs to busy his hands and focus his attention. If he was pissed, he'd just pop the tab on a beer can and drain half of it in one, steady pull.
Jensen steps out of the bathroom and walks automatically to Jared's side of the bed. He doesn't even stop to think about the fact that he's grabbing pillows from the floor and tossing them back onto the bed until it's done and he's sliding the drawer of Jared's bedside table open to check his condom supply.
That's when it hits him. Right there, doing the most mundane thing in the world.
He doesn't like change because he doesn't handle well the fear of the unknown. For him, giving up his own place and moving in here constitutes letting go of a world that is comfortable, and safe, and launching into something he still hasn't figured out, and maybe never will. It means that he's not just looking out for himself anymore, but fully merging his life with someone else. There are a million ways that it could go wrong, and Jensen doesn't handle failure all that well.
But as he slides Jared's drawer shut, he realizes that this life he has with Jared isn't unknown at all. He doesn't have to see Jared to know what he's doing right now. And he didn't have to see the pillows on the floor to know that Jared threw them there as soon as they walked into the bedroom a couple of hours ago. It's what he always does.
He doesn't have to think twice about checking the condom supply because he knows that it's his job to make sure that they're where they're supposed to be. Their sex life runs a little like a movie set. Jared's the director, and he'll make sure that everyone is satisfied with the end product. Jensen's the PA who makes sure that Jared has everything he needs to do his job. It's not something they've ever discussed, but Jensen knows that they both understand their roles, and that they're both happy to play them.
He knows that, if he picks it up and checks right now, his iPod is loaded with episodes of his favorite shows, and a couple of the new movies that he's been wanting to check out. Jared makes sure that it's ready at a moment's notice, in case Jensen needs to veg with a few cigarettes and some mind-numbing television after a particularly hard day. He knows that Jared bought the new lounger out on the deck, teak with plush, comfortable cushions, just for him to have his own place to escape, even though he's never asked, and Jared's never admitted that.
Tomorrow morning, Jared will hit the snooze three times before he drags himself into the shower, and then he'll start trying to wake Jensen up an hour before he actually has to roll out of bed. He'll start by kissing Jensen's neck and shoulder. He'll whisper filthy things against Jensen's ear, and devote the entire sixty minutes to coaxing him out of the bed before finally smacking Jensen's hip and telling him to get the hell up. And he'll be looking at Jensen like he's everything in the world that means anything when Jensen finally pries his eyes open and grumbles about how much he hates mornings.
If he wanted to go back to his apartment, he would have to pack a bag. All of his clothes are here, on his side of the closet, and in his half of the dresser. Most of his dvds are in the tower out by the television and his books have made their way onto the shelves in Jared's office, shoved in with all of Jared's so that neither of them really remembers which ones belong to which of them anymore.
When he makes his way into the kitchen, Jared is staring at the stove and tapping his foot against the floor. It means that he's impatient, and he's acting like it's the tea kettle that he's waiting on, but Jensen knows that it's not.
He drags his hand over Jared's bare back on his way to the refrigerator and when he looks up from withdrawing a bottle of water, Jared's eyes are raking over him skeptically. “What?” Jensen asks, smiling around the lip of the bottle.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Jensen shrugs and leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “They're my favorite, man.” He'll defend his threadbare pajama pants to the grave, even if they are ten years old and faded to the point that you can barely make out the little Homer Simpsons all over them.
“Your favorite?” Jared's barely managing to hold back his grin, his expression a mixture of skepticism and amusement. “How come I've never seen 'em before?”
Jensen shrugs. “Only wear 'em at home,” he answers easily, tipping the bottle again and letting the words settle in the air between them. He just hopes that Jared figures it out without a flashing neon sign. Just because the decision is made, he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it or anything.
“Why?” Jensen tilts his head, confused by the question, so Jared elaborates with, “Is it because you think you have to? That I'll break up with you or something if you don't? Because that's not what I meant.”
Jensen just pushes off the counter and steps across the distance between them. “It's because it's time,” he nods his head, more sure of this decision than any he's ever made. “Dude, I don't know if you've noticed, but I pretty much live here anyway. Why not make it official?” He rests his hands on Jared's waist and dips his head when Jared moves to kiss him. “I'm not a freeloader, though. I'm gonna pay you rent.”
Jared just rolls his eyes. “I'm not charging you rent. You're my boyfriend.” Off of Jensen's look, he flexes his shoulders and stares at the ceiling, like he's trying to come up with a suitable negotiation. “Alright. You can pay for . . . food or something. I don't know. We'll figure it out later. Hell, I'll take it out in trade.”
When he pulls Jensen in again, Jensen side-steps once more. “Dude, come on. I'm not gonna be your kept boy. I'm gonna pull my own weight.”
Sighing heavily, Jared catches Jensen's shoulders. “You seriously wanna talk about money right now?”
Jensen doesn't. What he really wants is for Jared to lay him out on the dining room table, or right here on the kitchen floor. That would be a hell of a lot easier, anyway. “No, but Jared, this is kinda huge for me, okay? If I'm gonna do it, I wanna make sure that I do it right.”
He worries about screwing things up at work, or not being able to get them done the way the director or producers want them. But this thing with Jared? It's so much more important than that. There's no room for error here.
This time, when Jared traps his face between those enormous hands and backs him up against the counter, Jensen doesn't have time to dodge the contact. Jared's so close, they're sharing air, and he can't look away from those laser-intense hazel eyes.
“We're gonna do what we've always done, okay?” Jared's lips press hot against his cheek and trail over Jensen's jaw to his ear. “The only way we can. Our way, okay?” Jensen just nods, head falling back a little when Jared presses his thigh tight and hard between Jensen's legs. “Now can we please talk logistics later? I'd kinda like to celebrate the fact that my boyfriend is moving in with me now.”
Maybe Jared's right. The way his mouth works at Jensen's neck and his hands push the thin pants off his hips, he can barely remember his own name anyway, let alone whatever he was worried about a minute ago. When he's here, with Jared, it feels like maybe he can let go of everything else and just be himself.
It feels like maybe he's home.
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