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raeschaeTitle: Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . 7/7
Author:raeschae
Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OMC
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: Language . . . and the end (which feels like it deserves a warning, ya know?)
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Seven chapters later, I own no more than I did when this crazy thing started a week ago. Sadly. You'd think, since I've been behaving and haven't even treated the boys badly or anything, that they might wanna sign themselves over to my eternal service, but apparently? Not so much.
A/N: So this is it. The end of the road. Actually, this is only the first story in a 'verse that I intend to continue cultivating and pretty much exploiting the hell out of for as long as I can. I think I've fallen more in love with the characters after seeing them through y'all's eyes, and now I'm not quite ready to let them go just yet. *Sigh*.
Who could have known, way back when I was watching a simple episode of Leverage, that the idea to have Chris drop some abandoned kid off with the J's would totally take over my life and be the thing that actually pushed me into the LJ community? I sure as hell didn't. But I'm glad it did.
For the last time, the graphic's under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
For the next three weeks, they argue pretty much all the time about the right time and way to tell Brayden about the upcoming changes in his life. Jensen thinks they should wait until everything's official and they know for sure that Rick is going to get his shit together and come back for the kid. Jared feels like they're lying to him by keeping it a secret.
In the end, Jensen wins out and it's a week before he's going to be leaving them when they head into the rec room and sink to the couch together, pressed thigh to thigh, as Brayden focuses solely on the Tony Hawk game he's been playing since Jensen introduced him to it a couple weeks back.
Neither know what to say or how to say it. Jensen doesn't know what to expect, and Jared's pretty sure it's going to be a flurry of conflicting emotions that the kid runs through in record time.
Turns out, Brayden just kind of stares at them for a long time and then nods his head. “Okay,” is his only response before he turns wordlessly back to the game and resumes where he left off. The only indication that something's maybe not right is the fact that he's no longer swinging his hair out of his eyes or trying to actually keep his game character on his skateboard. He's just kind of pressing buttons and staring at the television.
For the next three days, Brayden ghosts through the house like a kid who used to live there, but doesn't anymore. He does his homework on the living room floor, tapping his pencil against the edge of the coffee table like he always has, but the distinct lack of rhythm is new and disconcerting. He eats dinner at the kitchen island with Jensen mostly, and Jared if he's home, but the smiles he offers at their lame-ass stories about the day's events never really reach his eyes.
Finally, after he's helped Jensen with dishes one night, he turns and rests his hip against the sink. “You think he's really gonna change?”
Jensen doesn't know how to answer. He knows that Jared and Brayden had a conversation, sort of, about their parents one night, but Jensen's never really thought about what he would contribute to one of those conversations. Always figured it was just going to be Jared and Bray's thing.
“I really fuckin' hope so, Bray,” he says. It's the most honest answer he can give the kid, because he's not really sure that he believes it, but he also knows that Brayden needs to believe it.
Later, lying in bed next to Jared, Jensen squirms restlessly and fights to beat his pillow into submission. Jared reaches an arm out and runs it down the smooth, lean line of Jensen's back – his favorite body part, Jared thinks. There's something about Jensen's back, the shape and the lines of it, that gets him every time.
“Calm the fuck down,” he orders in a low voice that's filled with something that sound like humor, mixed with the faintest hint of concern.
Jensen just grunts into his pillow. It's the dumbest thing Jared's ever said. How in the hell is he supposed to calm down? Their life was good, right? A while ago, before Brayden, it was good. They were happy. Together, just the two of them. It was good.
And it took a little bit to adjust, but life with Brayden hasn't been a total crapfest, either. He's a good kid, and they've had fun with him. And, yeah, they don't hit as many clubs or stay up until sunrise or fuck against whatever wall they happen to be standing near when the urge hits them. But that stuff's kinda secondary, Jensen's realized in the last eight weeks.
And now, in just a couple of months, their lives are going to be slammed back into what they were before, and it's not that he doesn't want Jared all to himself just as much as he ever has, but he's a little bit freaked out. Things are changing too fast, roller-coastering all over the place, and Jensen doesn't quite know what to do with all of it. He doesn't know what he feels, or what's going to happen next, or where in the hell their lives are all headed and it's just too damn much.
He throws the covers back and rolls out of the bed, skin stretched too tight over his shoulders. Nothing is right. Nothing fits. Everything's out of control.
He grabs a pair of jeans and a tee shirt from the chair across the room and steps into them, only to realize that the jeans are Jared's and are way too big. Cursing, he rips them off, stumbles over the legs, and nearly falls back into the chair.
Before Jensen can fully wrap his head around the moment or finish the litany of curses rolling off his tongue, strong hands are pressing into his hips and Jared's kneeling in front of the chair, in front of Jensen. His hazel eyes are wide now, more concern than anything else, and he's massaging the bare skin at Jensen's waist as gently as he can while still being firm and reassuring.
“Hey,” his voice is soft in the darkness of the room and it stills Jensen, though it doesn't really calm him down much. “Look at me, sexy boy,” he coaxes.
Rolling his eyes, Jensen steps out of Jared's grasp and pulls on another pair of pants before reaching for his wallet on the high dresser to his left. “I gotta get outta here,” he mumbles to no one in particular.
But Jared's not one to just let go. He's got a hold on Jensen's wrist before his boyfriend can escape the bedroom, and his gaze has gone from worried to pissed in no time flat. “Where you goin'?” he demands. It's not like Santa Monica's all that dangerous at night, but he doesn't like the idea of Jensen just taking off without so much as a word about it. If Jared hadn't gotten out of the bed, he knows the older man would have stormed off without so much as a second look back.
“Dammit, Jay, I don't know, okay?” Jensen explodes, ripping his arm away and then pushing Jared's shoulder when the younger man tries to step to him. “Get the fuck offa me,” he pushes again, causing a little bit of give in his boyfriend's stance.
He could fight back, and he could keep Jensen from leaving, but Jared knows that it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up yelling loud enough to wake Brayden up and probably make things worse than they already are. So he rolls his eyes and heads back to the bed, calling over his shoulder, “You're such a bitch sometimes.”
Jensen doesn't answer, only storms out of the room and down the stairs. He doesn't know where the fuck he's going, or why he's going anywhere at all. He just knows that he has to breathe, and he couldn't in that bed.
He thinks about jumping in the car, or on the bike, and just tearing through the streets for awhile. Thinks about heading down to Ollie and skating around for a couple of hours. Thinks about heading down to Steak and Shake and drinking milkshakes until his stomach aches.
But as he's walking through the kitchen, a light in the theater draws his attention. He's pretty sure he shut that off when they got done watching a movie earlier in the night, so he creeps over to the door to check it out, only to find Brayden staring at the blank screen, his knees pulled up to his chest in a chair that's far too big for his slight frame.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, his voice sounding loud and clunky in the quiet room. “Aren't you supposed to be sleepin'?”
Brayden just shrugs and casts a glance over his shoulder before returning his eyes to the fascinating floor on the ground in front of him. “Can't,” he finally says when Jensen rounds the corner and sits on the floor in front of him.
For a long time, they just sit there. Not looking at each other, or anything really. Just staring and thinking. Jared's upstairs, probably sleeping again, and Jensen thinks maybe he should be here for this. Feels like a family moment. And he doesn't know when he started thinking about Brayden as family, but it's not like he can deny it to himself or anything anymore. If this kid wasn't as much a part of his crew as Danneel and Mike and Tom and Chris and Jared, it wouldn't hurt so much to watch him leave. Jensen can admit that now.
“Bray, I'm sorry,” he says after a few more minutes of silence.
“What for?”
It reminds Jensen of the first conversation they had, two months ago. And it's almost funny, the way his answer mirrors Brayden's from that day almost exactly. “Everything.” Brayden doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at the floor, like he's just a blank canvas. “Sorry you have to go through all this. That I can't make it easier for you.” There are a million things that Jensen thinks he should probably say, but he doesn't, for the life of him, know what any of them are at the moment.
For the first time, those big eyes find Jensen's and Brayden almost smiles. “You know you're the only person in this whole thing that's ever made it easy for me, right?”
To say that the words surprise Jensen is an understatement. In fact, he's pretty sure he gapes like a fish out of water. “I don't . . . I just . . . Fuck it, Brayden, I hate this,” he sighs and shakes his head, huffing a laugh that is filled with anything but humor. “I'm supposed to be glad things are workin' out the way they are. Supposed to be happy that we're all gettin' our lives back. And I'm fucking not.”
It's weird, how the words should be all chick-flick and blubbering emo or whatever, but it doesn't really matter. Not to Jensen anyway. Not when he realizes, for maybe the first time since any of this started, that Brayden is absolutely everything that he is NOT supposed to want out of life, and the only thing that's really made everything click into place.
“Is it bad that I am?” Brayden asks.
Every time he talks about his dad, it's in questions. Is it wrong that I feel this way about him? Is it bad that I want that with him? Am I fucked up for wanting it to be good? Like he's not sure what he's supposed to think, and he wants Jensen to assure him. Make him feel normal. Comfortable. Safe.
He shakes his head and leans back against the wall, head resting there as he watches the ceiling. “I haven't seen my dad in eight years, man. Haven't talked to him in about six.” He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugs his shoulders. “But if he called me tomorrow? Said he wanted to grab coffee and catch up?” He snaps his fingers and meets Brayden's eye. “That quick, I'd be there. Doesn't matter that he always thought my art was a waste of time, and that my style was idiotic, and that my lifestyle was unacceptable,” he makes the quotey fingers and rolls his eyes when Brayden's lips inch into a smile at the gesture. “Still my dad, ya know?”
There's a nod of the sandy mop staring back at him when Brayden lowers his forehead to his knee. “You're dad's a dick,” he mutters.
“What?”
Brayden looks up and his eyes are glassy, like he's trying to hold back his tears. It's weird, and it should be uncomfortable, but Jensen knows that the ache in his chest is more for the pain this kid is in than anything he's feeling at the moment. He's not even trying to tell himself any differently anymore.
“He thinks all that shit, he's a dick,” he states it as though Jensen should already know that. Like obviously Jensen's dad's a dick for not accepting this guy sitting before him. “Nobody wanted me, Jen. Nobody. Not even Jay, really.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and then lets it go. It's the exact same thing Jared does when he's trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say without sounding like a giant girl. “You're the only one who was, like, willing to take a chance on me or whatever.”
He doesn't say anything, and part of Jensen wants to argue on Jared's behalf. Probably because he always wants to argue on Jared's behalf. About everything. But he doesn't answer, either. Just sits in the quiet with the kid that he's not going to be able to sit with after Thursday.
“You know this ain't gettin' you outta school in the morning, right?” Jensen asks when Brayden shifts in his chair and tries to stifle a yawn in the palm of his hand.
“Oh, please,” Brayden rolls his eyes and stands, stretching his thin arms over his head. The tee shirt he's wearing is the prototype from the Macy's line. “Why you always gotta act like my mom?” he teases as Jensen hops up from the floor and follows him from the room.
“Why you always gotta be a little punk, huh?” he asks, smacking the back of Brayden's hair until the dark blond locks fly in all directions.
He scrambles to smooth it down and rolls his eyes over his shoulder. He walks up two stairs and then stops and looks back at Jensen. “Thanks,” he says, voice smaller than it was in the theater.
“Any time,” Jensen shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You know that, right? Even after,” he stops because saying the date, naming the deadline, hurts his throat a little bit more than he'd like to admit.
Brayden nods and turns to run back up the stairs. Jensen starts after him and then thinks better of it, turning on his heel to head out to the pool.
Sinking to the concrete edge, he rolls his pant legs up and immerses them in the warm water. With a cigarette lit between his lips, he considers the silence of the night around him and wonders, not for the first time, exactly what's going to happen after Thursday. What are their lives going to be like without Brayden?
He's on his third cigarette when he hears the door of the house opening behind him. “Hey,” Jared's voice is soft beside him as he drops to the ground and presses his shoulder against Jensen's.
Dressed only in his khaki shorts, Jensen thinks maybe Jared looks kind of like the angels do. Not that he's ever sayin' that shit out loud, but under the glow of the moon, his golden skin looks . . . well, heavenly. “Hey yourself,” he smiles sheepishly when Jared takes the cigarette from his lips and sucks back one drag and hands it back. “Sorry 'bout earlier,” he apologizes quickly and Jared just responds with a shake of his head. “I'm freakin' out,” he admits, as though Jared hasn't noticed that somehow.
Jared's foot hooks around the back of Jensen's ankle in the water and he turns his head to look over the water when he says, “Me, too.” He clears his throat and shakes his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “When this whole thing started, I was pretty sure you were out of your goddamn mind,” he chuckles and reaches for the cigarette again.
Jensen just lights another one for himself and leans back, resting his weight on his arms. “Still pretty sure I am outta my goddamn mind,” he grunts.
When the sky bleeds from black to deep blue and then morphs into a vibrant purple, Jared nudges Jensen's shoulder with his own. “TJ?”
Jensen exhales a long plume and licks his lips. “When?”
“Thursday,” Jared's eyes drift closed when he says the date.
The lump that rises in his throat is unexpected, but Jensen swallows it down. “Yeah,” he agrees and lets Jared pull him up by the hand and lead him back to their bedroom.
“And I'm thinking if you just wrap it around here . . . “
Jared stopped listening about thirty seconds after Brock insisted on taking his shirt off to show exactly how he wanted his new shoulder piece to fit the contours of his body. He doesn't care about Brock's body or its contours, and he's pretty sure he never will.
He does care that Kane is finally home from traipsing around the country, making music, and Steve's easy-going chuckle keeps filtering through the shop like it was never gone. He cares that Genevieve has a new girlfriend and can't stop talking about her, even when they all wish that she would just shut up. He cares that Chad and Sophia broke up a week ago, and then got together two days later when Chad proposed. And he cares that Sandy is on vacation and he feels like the whole entire studio might just fall apart around him if she doesn't get back soon.
He cares about his friends. Because, as someone wise once told him, that's all he's got. The only thing that has kept him sane over the last month and a half, waking up in a house that is barely different, but seems strangely empty. These people are the ones who keep him from putting his fist through the wall when the weight of missing a little kid who's barely five feet tall comes crashing in over him like the waves at high tide.
He and Jensen spent three days in Tijuana talking about all of the things they were going to do when they got home – all of the things that they hadn't been able to do with a kid hanging around the house. But when they got back to California, none of it seemed as appealing as it had just a few hours earlier.
It's not that they never go out or anything. And they sure as hell haven't kept up with the grocery shopping. They're not really any tidier than they were before, and the sex has bounced from really fantastic to do that again and watch my heart explode and my eyeballs melt like it used to be.
But there's just something missing. Or someone, rather. Brayden wasn't big, and he wasn't boisterous, and he didn't command a lot of attention. But his absence screams down the hallways of the house. And it's not something that they talk about, but Jared knows that Jensen feels it the same way he does.
“. . . has to be in color, too,” Brock is still going on when Jared checks back into the conversation.
With a nod of acknowledgment, he stands from his stool, excuses himself, and tosses his gloves onto his station. Makes his way to the front desk and taps his finger until Genevieve looks up. “I'll be back,” he says and she nods before he pushes out the front door and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Ollie is bustling these days. The line at Macy's was a huge hit, like Jared knew it would be, and it doesn't hurt that Tom worked out an exclusive sponsorship deal with Ryan Sheckler for the tour season. Now every kid under twenty-one wants their board tricked out with Ollie decals. And they all wanna sport the gear that Sheck does, too. Keeping up with the demand for shirts, wrist bands, and hats is getting to be all Mike and Jensen can handle. They brought this new kid, Jake, on board about a week ago to help shoulder some of the burden, as well as another cashier, Julie, to help Danneel.
Despite the fact that they're busier than they've ever been, Jensen's eyes light up when he sees Jared push through the doors. He's out of his office before Jared can even make it to the sales counter. “What's up?” he asks after a quick kiss.
He doesn't say it out loud, but this is the reason he hasn't lost his damn mind in the last six weeks. This man, with his eyeliner and piercings and blue-tipped hair. With his Dickies and his ridiculously huge Etnies and his Social Distortion tee shirt. His heart on his sleeve and his blind-you-like-the-sun smile. Jensen says that Jared is his anchor, but Jared knows the truth. He'd be lost without this kid right here.
“Come with me?”
Without a second's hesitation, Jensen throws a glance to the counter. “Takin' off, Danneel,” he says and she just rolls her eyes and makes a waving gesture toward the door.
They're on the road before Jensen speaks again. “You gonna tell me where we're goin'?”
Jared just shakes his head. He doesn't have to say it. Jensen will figure it out soon enough.
“You think this is a good idea?” he asks nervously when Jared parks the car near the curb of a run-down neighborhood just outside of town.
With a shrug, he kills the engine and slinks back in his seat. “I need it, Jen,” he says, knowing that he doesn't have to say anything else.
They sit for a couple more minutes, just watching the street. When Rick and Lindsay came to get Brayden that Thursday afternoon, the man seemed appropriately embarrassed for his actions. Seemed repentant, even though neither Jared nor Jensen were much inclined to offer hugs and forgiveness. Civility was about as much as they could muster.
Rick told them to stop by and see Brayden whenever they felt like it. Promised that the kid would be able to call whenever he wanted to, as well. Not that they've heard from him since. He left a voice mail once, but it sounded like it drained every bit of energy he had just to sound chipper enough to make them believe he was okay. Jensen said they shouldn't push him, or make it any harder for him than it had to be, and Jared agreed. He sure as hell didn't want to make the transition as impossible for Brayden as it is turning out to be for them.
Reaching across the seat, he pulls an envelope from the glove box and Jensen just smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Now?”
It's been there for three weeks, and neither of them has had the balls to suggest they make the delivery. But Brayden's birthday is tomorrow, and if they don't give it to him now, Jared knows damn well they never will.
He pushes out of the car and shoves his hands deep into his pockets, leading the way up the drive. Knocking on the door without knocking Rick out is going to be hard, but he thinks maybe he can handle it. For Brayden's sake.
Except that, before they reach the house, the door flies open and a flushed, bright-eyed kid with nearly-chin-length locks comes barreling onto the rickety porch. “Fuck me sideways!” Brayden exclaims.
Jensen laughs so hard Jared thinks maybe he's going to fall over. “What the fuck I tell you about swearing, asshole?” he says when he can talk again and Brayden just rolls his eyes and sticks his hand out, letting Jensen pull him into a half hug.
When he turns to Jared, he seems a little more hesitant, but a little more excited, too. “What are you guys doin' here?”
“You alone?” Jared asks, peering over Brayden's head to the darkened interior of the house.
He nods. “Lindsay got a job at the diner over on Third. And Dad's at the garage up the street,” he explains, pointing in two different directions at one time. “They usually roll in around six,” he adds, like he's afraid that these guys are going to think he's being neglected or something.
“You cool?” Jensen asks, eyebrow raised.
Brayden just smiles and nods his head again, looking happier than Jared remembers him maybe ever being. “Yeah,” he admits, and then blushes for the first time, dropping his eyes to the floor.
The really fucking weird thing is that, despite how much he thought this was going to suck, Jared feels a smile on his own lips. As if just seeing for himself that Brayden is okay, that he's not miserable or beaten down, actually makes him feel better. Like now that he knows the kid's actually happy, he can't help being happy for him. Weird.
Brayden invites them in and tells them to have a seat anywhere. He brings them both beer, with a soda for himself, like they always used to drink around the kitchen island while the three of them talked their day. The house smells like a stale ashtray, but there's nothing that Jared can see to really be worried about. Everything points to Brayden being in a really good place. And while he hates that it's not with him and Jensen, he's glad to know that the kid's not living in danger or anything.
“So, you got a big birthday comin' up tomorrow, dude,” Jensen says after about twenty minutes of easy small talk.
Brayden nods and almost blushes. “Yeah. Dad's lettin' me have some kids from the block over for a movie marathon. Lindsay's gonna rent some Roderiguez zombie shit for us.” He grins from under the fringe of his long bangs in Jared's direction, and Jared can't help returning the gesture. It's contagious or something. “I wanted some new Ollie gear, but we can't really, like, afford it right now or whatever.”
Jensen laughs at his side and Jared stretches back on the couch, fingers brushing the base of Jensen's neck. Jensen leans back into the touch easily and takes another pull from his beer bottle with a roll of his eyes. “Dude, you know you ain't gotta pay for any gear you want. Make me a list. I'll have Chris drop it by,” he offers.
“Or you could always, ya know, come pick it up,” Jared suggests and Brayden smiles even wider. “Stop by the studio, too, man. Soph keeps sayin' she misses those big eyes starin' at her.”
That's definitely a blush rushing up Brayden's neck now, and it makes Jared chuckle into his own bottle. “Come on, man. You make me sound like a stalker or somethin',” he defends himself weakly and then rolls his eyes. “Not like she didn't want me just as bad.”
Leaning forward, Jared reaches into his back pocket and pulls the envelope out. “Well, me and Jen wanted to make sure you knew we didn't forget your big day,” he says.
Brayden takes the envelope and he really looks surprised. “You guys didn't have to get me anything,” he starts.
But Jensen interrupts him while leaning heavier into Jared's side. “Shut up and open it.” It's not really noticeable, only Jared would really know that it means he's having a hard time holding it together. He drops his arm into the space between the back of the scratchy tweed couch and Jensen's waist, fingers digging reassuringly into the older man's hip.
Brayden pulls the tickets out of the envelope and his eyes fly wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? Backstage at All-American Rejects? This is,” he stops and swallows hard before his eyes dart back and forth from Jared to Jensen and back again. “This is the best fucking present ever!”
Feels like his heart does a fucking somersault in his chest, but Jared just shrugs and sets his bottle on the floor. “I got connections,” he says as though it's no big deal. Truthfully, it wasn't a big deal. Took one phone call and the promise of new art for the band and he was the proud owner of four backstage passes to a sold-out show.
They hang out for another few minutes and then Jared pushes himself up out of the couch. It's good to know that Brayden is in a good place, but too much of a good thing is going to break his heart and they need to get back to the real world. “Was good to see ya, Kid,” he winks, pulling Brayden into a half-hug as he walks to the door.
Brayden throws his arms around both of their waists and then practically jumps back, like he can't believe he just did something so damn girlie. “You guys think maybe you'd wanna take me to this thing? I mean, I know this kid, Jordan, will wanna go with, but that leaves me two,” he holds the tickets up, eyes wide and hopeful.
“You sure you don't wanna take your dad and Lindsay?” Jensen asks, and Jared wants to kick him in the shins. Instead, he holds his breath and waits to see what Brayden says in response.
Rolling his eyes, Brayden follows them to the door. “Really? You think my dad's gonna wanna hang with AAR? You think he actually knows who they even are?” He looks away for a second, and Jared knows that means he's about to say something he thinks might get him made fun of. It's weird how well he knows this kid after just a few months. “I want you guys to come with.”
They tell him that they'll call closer to the date of the show and make some final arrangements and then step onto the porch. Brayden's still waving at them from the doorway when Jared pulls away from the curb, the foreign prickling of tears somewhere near the back of his eye sockets.
They're not a PDA kind of couple usually, but he doesn't resist when Jensen's hand covers his on the gear shift and their fingers weave together. “You okay?” he asks.
Is he okay? Three months ago, he would have asked what in the hell he had to be not okay about. Two months ago, he would have asked Jensen just what the hell they had to be okay about. And now? Now Jared doesn't know what the hell happened to the guy he thought he was, and he's not exactly sure about the guy he's become.
He just knows that thinking about the smile on Brayden's face means something to him. So they won't get to watch him finish out junior high or assure him that high school's not going to be so bad while he's living with them. Doesn't mean they won't get to hear about his first girlfriend, or maybe actually get him to hang out for video game marathons from time to time. Just because he doesn't sleep in the room across the hall anymore, it doesn't mean that he can't be a part of their lives, right?
In the end, it's better this way, Jared knows. He and Jensen did alright not completely ruining the kid for a couple of months. They were pretty good babysitters, he thinks. But they're still nowhere near ready to be full-time, long-term . . . parents. Just the word sends a chill down his spine.
Some people come into your life, and they're just meant to be a permanent fixture for the rest of forever, he remembers this one pastor saying at this church that Jensen dragged him to when they first moved in together. And some people come into your life only for a moment, meant only to teach you a lesson and then move on. Neither is more, or less, important than the other.
Squeezing the fingers entwined with his, Jared knows exactly who's who in his life. And it's enough for him to answer Jensen's question with a, “Fine. You?” and mean it.
Jensen rolls his eyes and leans over the center console, lips pressing hotly against his ear. “Think you can make it home in ten?”
Author:
raeschae Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OMC
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: Language . . . and the end (which feels like it deserves a warning, ya know?)
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Seven chapters later, I own no more than I did when this crazy thing started a week ago. Sadly. You'd think, since I've been behaving and haven't even treated the boys badly or anything, that they might wanna sign themselves over to my eternal service, but apparently? Not so much.
A/N: So this is it. The end of the road. Actually, this is only the first story in a 'verse that I intend to continue cultivating and pretty much exploiting the hell out of for as long as I can. I think I've fallen more in love with the characters after seeing them through y'all's eyes, and now I'm not quite ready to let them go just yet. *Sigh*.
Who could have known, way back when I was watching a simple episode of Leverage, that the idea to have Chris drop some abandoned kid off with the J's would totally take over my life and be the thing that actually pushed me into the LJ community? I sure as hell didn't. But I'm glad it did.
For the last time, the graphic's under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
For the next three weeks, they argue pretty much all the time about the right time and way to tell Brayden about the upcoming changes in his life. Jensen thinks they should wait until everything's official and they know for sure that Rick is going to get his shit together and come back for the kid. Jared feels like they're lying to him by keeping it a secret.
In the end, Jensen wins out and it's a week before he's going to be leaving them when they head into the rec room and sink to the couch together, pressed thigh to thigh, as Brayden focuses solely on the Tony Hawk game he's been playing since Jensen introduced him to it a couple weeks back.
Neither know what to say or how to say it. Jensen doesn't know what to expect, and Jared's pretty sure it's going to be a flurry of conflicting emotions that the kid runs through in record time.
Turns out, Brayden just kind of stares at them for a long time and then nods his head. “Okay,” is his only response before he turns wordlessly back to the game and resumes where he left off. The only indication that something's maybe not right is the fact that he's no longer swinging his hair out of his eyes or trying to actually keep his game character on his skateboard. He's just kind of pressing buttons and staring at the television.
For the next three days, Brayden ghosts through the house like a kid who used to live there, but doesn't anymore. He does his homework on the living room floor, tapping his pencil against the edge of the coffee table like he always has, but the distinct lack of rhythm is new and disconcerting. He eats dinner at the kitchen island with Jensen mostly, and Jared if he's home, but the smiles he offers at their lame-ass stories about the day's events never really reach his eyes.
Finally, after he's helped Jensen with dishes one night, he turns and rests his hip against the sink. “You think he's really gonna change?”
Jensen doesn't know how to answer. He knows that Jared and Brayden had a conversation, sort of, about their parents one night, but Jensen's never really thought about what he would contribute to one of those conversations. Always figured it was just going to be Jared and Bray's thing.
“I really fuckin' hope so, Bray,” he says. It's the most honest answer he can give the kid, because he's not really sure that he believes it, but he also knows that Brayden needs to believe it.
Later, lying in bed next to Jared, Jensen squirms restlessly and fights to beat his pillow into submission. Jared reaches an arm out and runs it down the smooth, lean line of Jensen's back – his favorite body part, Jared thinks. There's something about Jensen's back, the shape and the lines of it, that gets him every time.
“Calm the fuck down,” he orders in a low voice that's filled with something that sound like humor, mixed with the faintest hint of concern.
Jensen just grunts into his pillow. It's the dumbest thing Jared's ever said. How in the hell is he supposed to calm down? Their life was good, right? A while ago, before Brayden, it was good. They were happy. Together, just the two of them. It was good.
And it took a little bit to adjust, but life with Brayden hasn't been a total crapfest, either. He's a good kid, and they've had fun with him. And, yeah, they don't hit as many clubs or stay up until sunrise or fuck against whatever wall they happen to be standing near when the urge hits them. But that stuff's kinda secondary, Jensen's realized in the last eight weeks.
And now, in just a couple of months, their lives are going to be slammed back into what they were before, and it's not that he doesn't want Jared all to himself just as much as he ever has, but he's a little bit freaked out. Things are changing too fast, roller-coastering all over the place, and Jensen doesn't quite know what to do with all of it. He doesn't know what he feels, or what's going to happen next, or where in the hell their lives are all headed and it's just too damn much.
He throws the covers back and rolls out of the bed, skin stretched too tight over his shoulders. Nothing is right. Nothing fits. Everything's out of control.
He grabs a pair of jeans and a tee shirt from the chair across the room and steps into them, only to realize that the jeans are Jared's and are way too big. Cursing, he rips them off, stumbles over the legs, and nearly falls back into the chair.
Before Jensen can fully wrap his head around the moment or finish the litany of curses rolling off his tongue, strong hands are pressing into his hips and Jared's kneeling in front of the chair, in front of Jensen. His hazel eyes are wide now, more concern than anything else, and he's massaging the bare skin at Jensen's waist as gently as he can while still being firm and reassuring.
“Hey,” his voice is soft in the darkness of the room and it stills Jensen, though it doesn't really calm him down much. “Look at me, sexy boy,” he coaxes.
Rolling his eyes, Jensen steps out of Jared's grasp and pulls on another pair of pants before reaching for his wallet on the high dresser to his left. “I gotta get outta here,” he mumbles to no one in particular.
But Jared's not one to just let go. He's got a hold on Jensen's wrist before his boyfriend can escape the bedroom, and his gaze has gone from worried to pissed in no time flat. “Where you goin'?” he demands. It's not like Santa Monica's all that dangerous at night, but he doesn't like the idea of Jensen just taking off without so much as a word about it. If Jared hadn't gotten out of the bed, he knows the older man would have stormed off without so much as a second look back.
“Dammit, Jay, I don't know, okay?” Jensen explodes, ripping his arm away and then pushing Jared's shoulder when the younger man tries to step to him. “Get the fuck offa me,” he pushes again, causing a little bit of give in his boyfriend's stance.
He could fight back, and he could keep Jensen from leaving, but Jared knows that it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up yelling loud enough to wake Brayden up and probably make things worse than they already are. So he rolls his eyes and heads back to the bed, calling over his shoulder, “You're such a bitch sometimes.”
Jensen doesn't answer, only storms out of the room and down the stairs. He doesn't know where the fuck he's going, or why he's going anywhere at all. He just knows that he has to breathe, and he couldn't in that bed.
He thinks about jumping in the car, or on the bike, and just tearing through the streets for awhile. Thinks about heading down to Ollie and skating around for a couple of hours. Thinks about heading down to Steak and Shake and drinking milkshakes until his stomach aches.
But as he's walking through the kitchen, a light in the theater draws his attention. He's pretty sure he shut that off when they got done watching a movie earlier in the night, so he creeps over to the door to check it out, only to find Brayden staring at the blank screen, his knees pulled up to his chest in a chair that's far too big for his slight frame.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, his voice sounding loud and clunky in the quiet room. “Aren't you supposed to be sleepin'?”
Brayden just shrugs and casts a glance over his shoulder before returning his eyes to the fascinating floor on the ground in front of him. “Can't,” he finally says when Jensen rounds the corner and sits on the floor in front of him.
For a long time, they just sit there. Not looking at each other, or anything really. Just staring and thinking. Jared's upstairs, probably sleeping again, and Jensen thinks maybe he should be here for this. Feels like a family moment. And he doesn't know when he started thinking about Brayden as family, but it's not like he can deny it to himself or anything anymore. If this kid wasn't as much a part of his crew as Danneel and Mike and Tom and Chris and Jared, it wouldn't hurt so much to watch him leave. Jensen can admit that now.
“Bray, I'm sorry,” he says after a few more minutes of silence.
“What for?”
It reminds Jensen of the first conversation they had, two months ago. And it's almost funny, the way his answer mirrors Brayden's from that day almost exactly. “Everything.” Brayden doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at the floor, like he's just a blank canvas. “Sorry you have to go through all this. That I can't make it easier for you.” There are a million things that Jensen thinks he should probably say, but he doesn't, for the life of him, know what any of them are at the moment.
For the first time, those big eyes find Jensen's and Brayden almost smiles. “You know you're the only person in this whole thing that's ever made it easy for me, right?”
To say that the words surprise Jensen is an understatement. In fact, he's pretty sure he gapes like a fish out of water. “I don't . . . I just . . . Fuck it, Brayden, I hate this,” he sighs and shakes his head, huffing a laugh that is filled with anything but humor. “I'm supposed to be glad things are workin' out the way they are. Supposed to be happy that we're all gettin' our lives back. And I'm fucking not.”
It's weird, how the words should be all chick-flick and blubbering emo or whatever, but it doesn't really matter. Not to Jensen anyway. Not when he realizes, for maybe the first time since any of this started, that Brayden is absolutely everything that he is NOT supposed to want out of life, and the only thing that's really made everything click into place.
“Is it bad that I am?” Brayden asks.
Every time he talks about his dad, it's in questions. Is it wrong that I feel this way about him? Is it bad that I want that with him? Am I fucked up for wanting it to be good? Like he's not sure what he's supposed to think, and he wants Jensen to assure him. Make him feel normal. Comfortable. Safe.
He shakes his head and leans back against the wall, head resting there as he watches the ceiling. “I haven't seen my dad in eight years, man. Haven't talked to him in about six.” He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugs his shoulders. “But if he called me tomorrow? Said he wanted to grab coffee and catch up?” He snaps his fingers and meets Brayden's eye. “That quick, I'd be there. Doesn't matter that he always thought my art was a waste of time, and that my style was idiotic, and that my lifestyle was unacceptable,” he makes the quotey fingers and rolls his eyes when Brayden's lips inch into a smile at the gesture. “Still my dad, ya know?”
There's a nod of the sandy mop staring back at him when Brayden lowers his forehead to his knee. “You're dad's a dick,” he mutters.
“What?”
Brayden looks up and his eyes are glassy, like he's trying to hold back his tears. It's weird, and it should be uncomfortable, but Jensen knows that the ache in his chest is more for the pain this kid is in than anything he's feeling at the moment. He's not even trying to tell himself any differently anymore.
“He thinks all that shit, he's a dick,” he states it as though Jensen should already know that. Like obviously Jensen's dad's a dick for not accepting this guy sitting before him. “Nobody wanted me, Jen. Nobody. Not even Jay, really.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and then lets it go. It's the exact same thing Jared does when he's trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say without sounding like a giant girl. “You're the only one who was, like, willing to take a chance on me or whatever.”
He doesn't say anything, and part of Jensen wants to argue on Jared's behalf. Probably because he always wants to argue on Jared's behalf. About everything. But he doesn't answer, either. Just sits in the quiet with the kid that he's not going to be able to sit with after Thursday.
“You know this ain't gettin' you outta school in the morning, right?” Jensen asks when Brayden shifts in his chair and tries to stifle a yawn in the palm of his hand.
“Oh, please,” Brayden rolls his eyes and stands, stretching his thin arms over his head. The tee shirt he's wearing is the prototype from the Macy's line. “Why you always gotta act like my mom?” he teases as Jensen hops up from the floor and follows him from the room.
“Why you always gotta be a little punk, huh?” he asks, smacking the back of Brayden's hair until the dark blond locks fly in all directions.
He scrambles to smooth it down and rolls his eyes over his shoulder. He walks up two stairs and then stops and looks back at Jensen. “Thanks,” he says, voice smaller than it was in the theater.
“Any time,” Jensen shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You know that, right? Even after,” he stops because saying the date, naming the deadline, hurts his throat a little bit more than he'd like to admit.
Brayden nods and turns to run back up the stairs. Jensen starts after him and then thinks better of it, turning on his heel to head out to the pool.
Sinking to the concrete edge, he rolls his pant legs up and immerses them in the warm water. With a cigarette lit between his lips, he considers the silence of the night around him and wonders, not for the first time, exactly what's going to happen after Thursday. What are their lives going to be like without Brayden?
He's on his third cigarette when he hears the door of the house opening behind him. “Hey,” Jared's voice is soft beside him as he drops to the ground and presses his shoulder against Jensen's.
Dressed only in his khaki shorts, Jensen thinks maybe Jared looks kind of like the angels do. Not that he's ever sayin' that shit out loud, but under the glow of the moon, his golden skin looks . . . well, heavenly. “Hey yourself,” he smiles sheepishly when Jared takes the cigarette from his lips and sucks back one drag and hands it back. “Sorry 'bout earlier,” he apologizes quickly and Jared just responds with a shake of his head. “I'm freakin' out,” he admits, as though Jared hasn't noticed that somehow.
Jared's foot hooks around the back of Jensen's ankle in the water and he turns his head to look over the water when he says, “Me, too.” He clears his throat and shakes his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “When this whole thing started, I was pretty sure you were out of your goddamn mind,” he chuckles and reaches for the cigarette again.
Jensen just lights another one for himself and leans back, resting his weight on his arms. “Still pretty sure I am outta my goddamn mind,” he grunts.
When the sky bleeds from black to deep blue and then morphs into a vibrant purple, Jared nudges Jensen's shoulder with his own. “TJ?”
Jensen exhales a long plume and licks his lips. “When?”
“Thursday,” Jared's eyes drift closed when he says the date.
The lump that rises in his throat is unexpected, but Jensen swallows it down. “Yeah,” he agrees and lets Jared pull him up by the hand and lead him back to their bedroom.
“And I'm thinking if you just wrap it around here . . . “
Jared stopped listening about thirty seconds after Brock insisted on taking his shirt off to show exactly how he wanted his new shoulder piece to fit the contours of his body. He doesn't care about Brock's body or its contours, and he's pretty sure he never will.
He does care that Kane is finally home from traipsing around the country, making music, and Steve's easy-going chuckle keeps filtering through the shop like it was never gone. He cares that Genevieve has a new girlfriend and can't stop talking about her, even when they all wish that she would just shut up. He cares that Chad and Sophia broke up a week ago, and then got together two days later when Chad proposed. And he cares that Sandy is on vacation and he feels like the whole entire studio might just fall apart around him if she doesn't get back soon.
He cares about his friends. Because, as someone wise once told him, that's all he's got. The only thing that has kept him sane over the last month and a half, waking up in a house that is barely different, but seems strangely empty. These people are the ones who keep him from putting his fist through the wall when the weight of missing a little kid who's barely five feet tall comes crashing in over him like the waves at high tide.
He and Jensen spent three days in Tijuana talking about all of the things they were going to do when they got home – all of the things that they hadn't been able to do with a kid hanging around the house. But when they got back to California, none of it seemed as appealing as it had just a few hours earlier.
It's not that they never go out or anything. And they sure as hell haven't kept up with the grocery shopping. They're not really any tidier than they were before, and the sex has bounced from really fantastic to do that again and watch my heart explode and my eyeballs melt like it used to be.
But there's just something missing. Or someone, rather. Brayden wasn't big, and he wasn't boisterous, and he didn't command a lot of attention. But his absence screams down the hallways of the house. And it's not something that they talk about, but Jared knows that Jensen feels it the same way he does.
“. . . has to be in color, too,” Brock is still going on when Jared checks back into the conversation.
With a nod of acknowledgment, he stands from his stool, excuses himself, and tosses his gloves onto his station. Makes his way to the front desk and taps his finger until Genevieve looks up. “I'll be back,” he says and she nods before he pushes out the front door and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Ollie is bustling these days. The line at Macy's was a huge hit, like Jared knew it would be, and it doesn't hurt that Tom worked out an exclusive sponsorship deal with Ryan Sheckler for the tour season. Now every kid under twenty-one wants their board tricked out with Ollie decals. And they all wanna sport the gear that Sheck does, too. Keeping up with the demand for shirts, wrist bands, and hats is getting to be all Mike and Jensen can handle. They brought this new kid, Jake, on board about a week ago to help shoulder some of the burden, as well as another cashier, Julie, to help Danneel.
Despite the fact that they're busier than they've ever been, Jensen's eyes light up when he sees Jared push through the doors. He's out of his office before Jared can even make it to the sales counter. “What's up?” he asks after a quick kiss.
He doesn't say it out loud, but this is the reason he hasn't lost his damn mind in the last six weeks. This man, with his eyeliner and piercings and blue-tipped hair. With his Dickies and his ridiculously huge Etnies and his Social Distortion tee shirt. His heart on his sleeve and his blind-you-like-the-sun smile. Jensen says that Jared is his anchor, but Jared knows the truth. He'd be lost without this kid right here.
“Come with me?”
Without a second's hesitation, Jensen throws a glance to the counter. “Takin' off, Danneel,” he says and she just rolls her eyes and makes a waving gesture toward the door.
They're on the road before Jensen speaks again. “You gonna tell me where we're goin'?”
Jared just shakes his head. He doesn't have to say it. Jensen will figure it out soon enough.
“You think this is a good idea?” he asks nervously when Jared parks the car near the curb of a run-down neighborhood just outside of town.
With a shrug, he kills the engine and slinks back in his seat. “I need it, Jen,” he says, knowing that he doesn't have to say anything else.
They sit for a couple more minutes, just watching the street. When Rick and Lindsay came to get Brayden that Thursday afternoon, the man seemed appropriately embarrassed for his actions. Seemed repentant, even though neither Jared nor Jensen were much inclined to offer hugs and forgiveness. Civility was about as much as they could muster.
Rick told them to stop by and see Brayden whenever they felt like it. Promised that the kid would be able to call whenever he wanted to, as well. Not that they've heard from him since. He left a voice mail once, but it sounded like it drained every bit of energy he had just to sound chipper enough to make them believe he was okay. Jensen said they shouldn't push him, or make it any harder for him than it had to be, and Jared agreed. He sure as hell didn't want to make the transition as impossible for Brayden as it is turning out to be for them.
Reaching across the seat, he pulls an envelope from the glove box and Jensen just smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Now?”
It's been there for three weeks, and neither of them has had the balls to suggest they make the delivery. But Brayden's birthday is tomorrow, and if they don't give it to him now, Jared knows damn well they never will.
He pushes out of the car and shoves his hands deep into his pockets, leading the way up the drive. Knocking on the door without knocking Rick out is going to be hard, but he thinks maybe he can handle it. For Brayden's sake.
Except that, before they reach the house, the door flies open and a flushed, bright-eyed kid with nearly-chin-length locks comes barreling onto the rickety porch. “Fuck me sideways!” Brayden exclaims.
Jensen laughs so hard Jared thinks maybe he's going to fall over. “What the fuck I tell you about swearing, asshole?” he says when he can talk again and Brayden just rolls his eyes and sticks his hand out, letting Jensen pull him into a half hug.
When he turns to Jared, he seems a little more hesitant, but a little more excited, too. “What are you guys doin' here?”
“You alone?” Jared asks, peering over Brayden's head to the darkened interior of the house.
He nods. “Lindsay got a job at the diner over on Third. And Dad's at the garage up the street,” he explains, pointing in two different directions at one time. “They usually roll in around six,” he adds, like he's afraid that these guys are going to think he's being neglected or something.
“You cool?” Jensen asks, eyebrow raised.
Brayden just smiles and nods his head again, looking happier than Jared remembers him maybe ever being. “Yeah,” he admits, and then blushes for the first time, dropping his eyes to the floor.
The really fucking weird thing is that, despite how much he thought this was going to suck, Jared feels a smile on his own lips. As if just seeing for himself that Brayden is okay, that he's not miserable or beaten down, actually makes him feel better. Like now that he knows the kid's actually happy, he can't help being happy for him. Weird.
Brayden invites them in and tells them to have a seat anywhere. He brings them both beer, with a soda for himself, like they always used to drink around the kitchen island while the three of them talked their day. The house smells like a stale ashtray, but there's nothing that Jared can see to really be worried about. Everything points to Brayden being in a really good place. And while he hates that it's not with him and Jensen, he's glad to know that the kid's not living in danger or anything.
“So, you got a big birthday comin' up tomorrow, dude,” Jensen says after about twenty minutes of easy small talk.
Brayden nods and almost blushes. “Yeah. Dad's lettin' me have some kids from the block over for a movie marathon. Lindsay's gonna rent some Roderiguez zombie shit for us.” He grins from under the fringe of his long bangs in Jared's direction, and Jared can't help returning the gesture. It's contagious or something. “I wanted some new Ollie gear, but we can't really, like, afford it right now or whatever.”
Jensen laughs at his side and Jared stretches back on the couch, fingers brushing the base of Jensen's neck. Jensen leans back into the touch easily and takes another pull from his beer bottle with a roll of his eyes. “Dude, you know you ain't gotta pay for any gear you want. Make me a list. I'll have Chris drop it by,” he offers.
“Or you could always, ya know, come pick it up,” Jared suggests and Brayden smiles even wider. “Stop by the studio, too, man. Soph keeps sayin' she misses those big eyes starin' at her.”
That's definitely a blush rushing up Brayden's neck now, and it makes Jared chuckle into his own bottle. “Come on, man. You make me sound like a stalker or somethin',” he defends himself weakly and then rolls his eyes. “Not like she didn't want me just as bad.”
Leaning forward, Jared reaches into his back pocket and pulls the envelope out. “Well, me and Jen wanted to make sure you knew we didn't forget your big day,” he says.
Brayden takes the envelope and he really looks surprised. “You guys didn't have to get me anything,” he starts.
But Jensen interrupts him while leaning heavier into Jared's side. “Shut up and open it.” It's not really noticeable, only Jared would really know that it means he's having a hard time holding it together. He drops his arm into the space between the back of the scratchy tweed couch and Jensen's waist, fingers digging reassuringly into the older man's hip.
Brayden pulls the tickets out of the envelope and his eyes fly wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? Backstage at All-American Rejects? This is,” he stops and swallows hard before his eyes dart back and forth from Jared to Jensen and back again. “This is the best fucking present ever!”
Feels like his heart does a fucking somersault in his chest, but Jared just shrugs and sets his bottle on the floor. “I got connections,” he says as though it's no big deal. Truthfully, it wasn't a big deal. Took one phone call and the promise of new art for the band and he was the proud owner of four backstage passes to a sold-out show.
They hang out for another few minutes and then Jared pushes himself up out of the couch. It's good to know that Brayden is in a good place, but too much of a good thing is going to break his heart and they need to get back to the real world. “Was good to see ya, Kid,” he winks, pulling Brayden into a half-hug as he walks to the door.
Brayden throws his arms around both of their waists and then practically jumps back, like he can't believe he just did something so damn girlie. “You guys think maybe you'd wanna take me to this thing? I mean, I know this kid, Jordan, will wanna go with, but that leaves me two,” he holds the tickets up, eyes wide and hopeful.
“You sure you don't wanna take your dad and Lindsay?” Jensen asks, and Jared wants to kick him in the shins. Instead, he holds his breath and waits to see what Brayden says in response.
Rolling his eyes, Brayden follows them to the door. “Really? You think my dad's gonna wanna hang with AAR? You think he actually knows who they even are?” He looks away for a second, and Jared knows that means he's about to say something he thinks might get him made fun of. It's weird how well he knows this kid after just a few months. “I want you guys to come with.”
They tell him that they'll call closer to the date of the show and make some final arrangements and then step onto the porch. Brayden's still waving at them from the doorway when Jared pulls away from the curb, the foreign prickling of tears somewhere near the back of his eye sockets.
They're not a PDA kind of couple usually, but he doesn't resist when Jensen's hand covers his on the gear shift and their fingers weave together. “You okay?” he asks.
Is he okay? Three months ago, he would have asked what in the hell he had to be not okay about. Two months ago, he would have asked Jensen just what the hell they had to be okay about. And now? Now Jared doesn't know what the hell happened to the guy he thought he was, and he's not exactly sure about the guy he's become.
He just knows that thinking about the smile on Brayden's face means something to him. So they won't get to watch him finish out junior high or assure him that high school's not going to be so bad while he's living with them. Doesn't mean they won't get to hear about his first girlfriend, or maybe actually get him to hang out for video game marathons from time to time. Just because he doesn't sleep in the room across the hall anymore, it doesn't mean that he can't be a part of their lives, right?
In the end, it's better this way, Jared knows. He and Jensen did alright not completely ruining the kid for a couple of months. They were pretty good babysitters, he thinks. But they're still nowhere near ready to be full-time, long-term . . . parents. Just the word sends a chill down his spine.
Some people come into your life, and they're just meant to be a permanent fixture for the rest of forever, he remembers this one pastor saying at this church that Jensen dragged him to when they first moved in together. And some people come into your life only for a moment, meant only to teach you a lesson and then move on. Neither is more, or less, important than the other.
Squeezing the fingers entwined with his, Jared knows exactly who's who in his life. And it's enough for him to answer Jensen's question with a, “Fine. You?” and mean it.
Jensen rolls his eyes and leans over the center console, lips pressing hotly against his ear. “Think you can make it home in ten?”
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Date: 2009-09-22 02:07 am (UTC)