Exhibition (Part 3)

[raeschae]

18 and Life
Betrayal

“Ouch!”

Jared rolls his eyes and grabs the back of Jensen’s head in his open palm, steadying him so Jared can get a better look at his mouth in the dim, overhead kitchen light. “Sit still,” he orders, frustration creeping into his words. “Or, I don’t know, maybe next time don’t get punched in the mouth. That’d probably make it hurt less.”

When the guy, Ian said his name was Chris, showed up at their table, Jared was confused. From there, he moved on to concerned, but seeing Jensen in the alley with blood in his mouth and a smile on his face helped push him right over into angry. To be fair, he’s mostly just pissed that Jensen scared him for no reason.

“I don’t think he broke any of your teeth,” he assesses once he’s thoroughly checked the inside of Jensen’s mouth. He can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the corner that isn’t twice its normal size before he claps a hand over Jensen’s shoulder. “You’re probably gonna make it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and rests his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest while Jared pulls a cardboard box out of the pantry and fills a glass with warm salt water. “What’re you doin’?”

“Here,” he answers by thrusting the glass toward Jensen. “Don’t drink it. Just roll it around under your lip for a second. The salt will accelerate the healing process.” Jensen’s nose turns up at the thought, causing Jared to roll his eyes. “God, you’re such a fucking baby.”

Jensen gargles the water while Jared grabs a couple of ice cubes. He’s been in a few fights, has friends who’ve been in even more, so he knows the drill. The fact that Jensen’s letting him take care of it is just hot enough to distract him from the fact that his boyfriend seems really happy to have gotten knocked out tonight.

“Chris was my Genevieve.” Jared stops wrapping the ice and looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Jensen smiles, then groans and has to stop talking until his face is done throbbing. “My best friend since fifth grade. I was closer to him than I was to my own brother, I think. First person I came out to in high school.”

Jared takes Jensen’s water glass and hands him the mini ice pack. “Was he cool with it?”

With a nod, Jensen dabs the ice at the outside of his swollen lip. “Not a lot of gay kids where I come from, ya know? We didn't go to any Pride parades or anything, but he didn't treat me any different. Even when my other friends would make ignorant comments, just 'cause they didn't know any better, Chris was the one who jumped in to correct 'em.”

“Open your mouth,” Jared instructs, rubbing waxy, Carmex lip balm over Jensen's cracked lip. He got off lucky – he could have needed stitches, or worse – but Jared's starting to think that maybe Chris wasn't really trying to hurt Jensen. “Ice,” he nods toward Jensen's hand and Jensen huffs, but does what he's told. “So this is what? Some fucked up handshake y'all have or somethin'?”

Jensen doesn't say anything, ice stuck inside his lip for a second while Jared goes over the mental checklist to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. Jensen's mouth is going to hurt for a few days, but Jared can ease the pain a little bit, so he figures it's the least he can do.

He's searching through the freezer when Jensen speaks again. “Two weeks before I left for college, we were at this party, right? Like I said, not a lotta gay kids where we come from, so I was flirtin' with a couple of the guys' girlfriends.”

“You?” Jared interrupts, throwing a smile over his shoulder to let Jensen know he's teasing. “That's hard to believe.”

“Yeah, well, not everybody was convinced it was such harmless fun. One of the guys started getting pissed, so Chris told him not to worry about it. Said it was as safe as her flirtin' with any of the girls there.” Jared turns, bag of corn kernels in his hand, expression skeptical. “He didn't mean anything by it. I know that now, but back then it fuckin' stung. My ego's always been about two sizes too big, ya know. Afraid of where the story is headed, Jared steps into Jensen's personal space and lays the cold bag against the bruise forming on his jaw. “What'd you do?”

“Got it in my head that I was gonna prove him wrong. Told him I could take any girl in that room, same as any straight guy, and fuck her better. He told me I was being dumb, but I wouldn't listen, ya know? Picked Danneel Harris – hottest chick in our class, man – and I did exactly what I said I was gonna do.”

“You fucked her?” Jensen nods, his expression pained. “And?” He's probably making excuses again, but Jared knows a lot of guys who fucked girls just because they could in high school. Jensen's leaving something out of this story.

“And I fucking knew Chris had been off-his-ass in love with her since ninth grade. Everybody knew it. They got close to goin' out a few times, but he never really did anything about it. My genius way of provin' I could be just as much a man as anybody else was to fuck the girl my best friend never had the balls to fuck.”

Suddenly, Jared understands why Chris punched Jensen in the mouth. “This is the first time you've seen him since?”

With a nod, Jensen leans forward a little, his fingers hooked in Jared's belt loops. “We avoided each other until I left town, and then I couldn't bring myself to go back and find him. I humiliated him, and it's fuckin' eaten away at me every day since.”

Jared pulls the bag of corn away from Jensen's face and sets it down, trapping him between the counter and his body. “You feel better now?”

Eyes fixed on Jared's throat, Jensen answers with a little hesitation. “Depends.” When he finally looks up, he asks, “We okay?”

“Why wouldn't we be?” Jared dips his head to pull Jensen's earlobe between his teeth and then presses a kiss behind his ear. “That doesn't have anything to do with me.” Sure, Jensen did a stupid and immature thing. Jared did a few when he was eighteen, too.

When Jensen tries to kiss him, he ends up wincing and pulling back with a curse. He pushes Jared far enough away to grab the ice and run it back over the top of his lip. “I hate this.”

He considers reminding Jensen that apologizing with words is sometimes just as effective as letting someone bust his jaw, but he's not entirely convinced this whole thing could have been put to rest any other way. Instead, he takes Jensen's hand. “Grab that corn,” he orders before dragging him into the living room. “Now, sit down, ice your face, and let's see if we can't take your mind off the pain for awhile.”

There will be Tylenol later – it's far more effective, long term – but for now, Jared kicks Jensen's feet apart and sinks to the floor between his knees.

Good Morning
Bite

Jensen's been with a few guys in his time, and some of them have been ridiculously hot. He's had emo boys with wrist bands and eyeliner, a couple of bikers decked out in leather, muscle-headed gym rats, and Bohemian artists with bare feet and stained jeans; they all appeal to his eclectic interests. If Jensen had to pick his type, he wouldn't know where to begin.

This guy sleeping next to him now could easily fit into a few of Jensen's categories. Without the laugh, the groping hands, and the blush that sometimes creeps into the tips of his ears when he can't quite find the words to express what he's thinking, Jared isn't much different than most of the guys Jensen knew in college and after. Before they got to know each other, Jensen didn't see what set Jared apart.

On his stomach, face smashed into the pillow, Jared's shoulders rise and fall with each steady breath. A few months ago, Jensen would have been thrilled to have this body in his bed, but that's all it would have been – a body in his bed. As an artist, he would have appreciated the angles and lines and planes of it, and as a man, he would have enjoyed the feeling and the touch of it. Back then, he would have totally missed the most important parts.

He wouldn't see how aware Jared is of exactly where Jensen is, whether they're around other people or not. He wouldn’t know the way he can reach out, find Jensen's arm or the back of his neck without even looking. He would have missed the way Jared can glance up, find him immediately, and smile like that's all it takes to make him happy.

When they met, Jensen was drawn to the easy way Jared owns who he is. There's never been anything forced or fake about him; – not when they were dancing around the sexual tension between them, and not now. What he never could have predicted, though, is the way Jared is just as comfortable with who Jensen is. Other guys have told him that the past doesn't matter – they've told him a lot of things they didn't really mean – but the way Jared still looks at him, knowing everything that he knows, proves it in a way none of the others could.

He rolls onto his side and takes a second to run his fingers over the line of Jared's back. This is his. Even after three months of waking up next to the guy – a marathon by Jensen's relationship standards – it's as awesome as it was that first morning.

Sometimes, he thinks it would be totally justifiable for this to be some kind of cosmic joke. He couldn't wouldn't blame the gods for dangling this perfect thing in front of him and then yanking it away when Jensen gets close. Fuck knows he did that to enough people to deserve it in return.

Rolling onto his side, he presses his lips against the jut of Jared's shoulder blade before sinking his teeth softly into the muscle there. When Jared only grunts, Jensen sucks at the bite marks and then does it again, this time a few inches lower. His body is like a soft canvas, stretched tight and inviting, and all Jensen wants is to mark every inch of it. He wants to leave his signature here, to make sure everyone knows that this brilliant work of art belongs to him.

He makes it all the way down to the sheet draped haphazardly over Jared's hips before Jared lifts his head from the pillow and mumbles, “Don't stop.” As if that's an option.

Ripping the sheet away, Jensen maneuvers himself between Jared's knees and pushes on the insides of his thighs. “Spread out for me,” he says, voice low in the stillness of the room.

Jared complies, lazily pushing up onto his forearms to look over his shoulder. His eyes are puffy and the lines from the pillow streak his forehead and cheek as he licks his sleep-dried lips and then lifts his ass a little. “Want me on my knees?”

There will never be a time when the answer to that question is 'no' for Jensen, but right now he wants something else more. “Lie back down,” he suggests, one hand rubbing against the small of Jared's while the other slides back and forth over his ass.

With a contented sigh, Jared melts back into the mattress while Jensen sucks and nips at the soft skin inside his thighs. Jared is writhing now, begging in incoherent moans, his fists pulling a little at the sheets. Jensen knows him well enough now to know this isn't going to take long. He smacks the side of Jared's leg and smiles at the way he angles his hips and offers his ass immediately.

“Fuck,” he breathes, mostly to himself, before he leans in to lick slow circles around Jared's hole. Jared moves his hand from the sheet, stuffing it between his body and the bed, his breathing jagged and uneven.

Jensen rolls his tongue in and out a few more times and then drags his spit-slicked lips across Jared's ass and sinks his teeth in one more time. With a startled grunt that turns into a desperate, “Oh fuck,” Jared growls, body arching when he comes against his own hand.

When they're both on their backs, Jared a little closer to Jensen's side of the bed to avoid the wet spot, he turns to find Jared blinking at him sleepily. “Good mornin,'” he greets with a wink.

Jared manages to huff about half of a chuckle before he laughs and hides his face behind his arm. “I'll say. What was that for?”

It makes Jensen far happier than he will admit to answer, “Because I can.”

Grow Up
Future

The coffee shop doesn't open until noon on Sundays, but sometimes Jared likes to come in while it's quiet, before the customers start showing up. Jensen is working, trying to finish a collection for a potential buyer who's flying in from San Francisco at the end of the week, so Jared figures he has to find something to do to keep him occupied for awhile. They're supposed to meet his parents for lunch, but they won't be out of church for another couple of hours.

He nearly spills his coffee all over himself when someone knocks on the window behind him, but it's hard to be mad at Tom when he's smiling like that on the other side of the glass. Hurrying to the door, he opens it and shakes his head when Tom steps over the threshold. “Scared the shit outta me.” Jared says as he slides the lock back into place. “You want coffee?”

Tom just rests his hands on his hips and takes a second to look Jared over, ignoring the question completely. “You look good, man,” he compliments, and Jared smiles in response. “Seem happy.”

The statement makes him feel a little more awkward than it probably should, so he glosses over it. “So what brings you around so early on a weekend?”

Sliding into the chair across the table from Jared, Tom crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you remember how I told you that I was working with that company in DC that's doing all that new space research?”

Jared vaguely remembers the conversation. “I think so.”

“Well, I was talking to one of the guys the other day, and he asked me if I knew you.” Jared's pretty sure he's never spoken to anyone from this company – hell, he barely remembers talking about this company – so he doesn't know why his name would come up in conversation. “It's a small town, Jay. Your address was on your résumé.”

“I sent them a résumé?” It's entirely possible – he's sent so many now that he doesn't remember half of them anymore – but Jared's been too busy with other distractions to worry much about the responses he hasn't gotten back from anyone.

Tom rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Bill said that he sent you an e-mail, but you hadn't replied and he was really hoping to get a chance to talk to you.” His smile might swallow his whole face, and Jared kind of feels bad that he's not more excited about the opportunity. “I told him I'd have you call.” With a simple flick of his wrist, Tom thrusts a business card onto the table.

“I don't know, man,” Jared says, looking at the card for a brief moment without picking it up. “I'm not really lookin' to relocate. At least, not all the way to DC.”

For the first time since he entered the shop, Tom's smile fades a little. “Man, Jared, come on. You can't pass on an opportunity like this. Especially not because of some guy.”

“It's not because of Jensen,” Jared answers, too immediate to sound anything but defensive. With a sigh, he rests his elbow on the table and cards his fingers through his hair. “Dude, you can't just spring this on me and expect me to hop on board.”

“Why not?” Tom seems genuinely confused because that's the kind of guy Tom is. He loves the corporate lifestyle, the nine-to-five routine, the 401K and the benefits package.

The problem is that Jared doesn't care about any of that and he never really has. Sure, health insurance and retirement security would be nice, but he's not interested in the other stuff. If he could make the same money here that he would make as an engineer, he would gladly be a barista for the rest of his natural life.

“Jared,” Tom starts, when it becomes clear that Jared's not going to answer his question out loud, “how long do you think Jensen is going to hang around this one-horse town, huh? Guy's talented, and this isn't exactly the heart of the art world. If you ask me, this is just a layover on the way to somewhere like New York for him. Can you honestly tell me that he would give up everything he's been working for to stay here with you?” Pushing his chair back, Tom stands and points toward the business card Jared has yet to pick up. “Make the phone call, Jay. Can't hurt to hear what they have to say.”

Jared barely notices when Tom leaves, his eyes fixed on the top of the table in front of him. He hasn't thought about Jensen leaving for greener pastures, but what Tom says makes sense.

He angles his chair toward the window and catches sight of Jensen, decked out in a welder's mask and gloves as he takes a blow torch to a piece of sheet metal up in his studio. Since Jeff gave him a permanent exhibit space in the gallery a couple of months ago, interest in Jensen's work has been picking up a little. It's probably only a matter of time until someone makes him an offer, until Jensen packs up and moves on to the career he's always dreamed of having.

Jared loves his life now, but he can't keep living in this bubble forever. Serving coffee and hanging out with his friends was alright when he was in college, but he's not anymore. Maybe it's time to start acting like the adult that he is instead of the kid he wishes he still was.

Turning his back to the window, Jared grabs the business card and digs his cell phone out of his pocket.

Three Little Words
Need

“I feel kind of special.”

Jensen turns from the sculpture he's been working on to find Jared standing in the doorway of his studio, feet crossed at his ankles, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jeans. “Thanks for comin' up,” he smiles, making his way over to greet his boyfriend with a kiss. It's probably never going to get old, referring to Jared as his boyfriend. There's a good chance it'll never stop sounding a little strange, too.

“You think I'm gonna turn down a private invite into your inner sanctum? Dude, I’ve been watchin' this place from the other side of the glass for so long, I was starting to think it only existed in my imagination.” Jared hooks an arm around Jensen's waist, pulling him closer and gripping the back of his neck with a sure hand. “Missed you,” he breathes before his lips press against Jensen's in a greeting that's so much better than a wave or a handshake.

Jensen didn't exactly go anywhere, but he did spend most of Saturday in the city with a friend of Jeff's who owns a gallery in San Francisco. By the time Jared got off of work, Jensen was too tired to be of much use, and Sunday was...well, it was weird.

The entire week was stressful, with Jensen working late every night and Jared obviously dealing with something he's not ready to talk about yet. This morning, Jensen couldn't stand it anymore, so he texted Jared and told him to come by the studio. It's not something he offers randomly – Jeff and Ian are the only other people who have been up here since he started renting the space – but it seems like as good a place as any to have the conversation he needs to have with Jared.

When Jared stops kissing him, he lowers his head to the bend of Jensen's neck and just kind of clings to him. “I love you,” Jensen says against the top of his head, unsure if it's even audible over the low din of the stereo playing in the background.

Aside from his family and Katie, Jensen can't remember uttering those words in his adult life. It's kind of a big deal and, judging by the look on his face when he pulls back, Jared knows it.

“You what?”

With a shrug and a smirk, Jensen feigns confidence he's not feeling when he repeats himself. “I said I love you. It's important that you know that.”

Jared's expression shifts from confused to concerned. “Why?”

“Because we need to talk.” It comes out sounding a lot more ominous than he means for it to; those words always do.

Instead of freaking out, Jared just takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he agrees. With a smirk of his own, he adds, “It's important for you to know I love you, too, though.”

Jensen isn't sure why, but he's pretty sure Jared knows what he's going to say before he says it. In the last few months, he's come to like the way Jared seems to get him, to understand without Jensen having to explain himself. This time, though, it's unsettling.

He leads the way further into the studio, but he doesn't know where to sit or stand or what to do with his hands. Everything just feels awkward and wrong. Usually, when he's feeling stressed or worried about something, he stops at the window and watches Jared work for a little while. It's familiar and calms him down like a hug from his mom used to when he was younger.

Jared's not down there, though; he's right here, waiting to hear what Jensen has to say. “So this weekend was a wine and dine.”

With a nod, Jared moves closer and leans against the window. “I kinda figured.” He studies his hands, his brow furrowed, and then speaks without looking at Jensen. “What's the deal?”

“Three installation pieces for this theater he just bought. And a showing at his gallery for the duration of the job.” It's an opportunity most artists in his position would sell their souls for, everything he's been working toward for seven years now. He would be an idiot to turn it down.

Finally, he lifts his eyes to Jensen's face. “How long?”

“Four to six months.” They both know the chances of him returning are slim, no matter how long the job lasts.

Jensen has spent the last twenty-four hours trying to predict how Jared is going to react to this news. He would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping for disappointment or even anger. At least then he would know that Jared is as invested in this thing as he is. Of all the possible reactions he considered, though, sarcastic laughter was not one of them.

Shaking his head, Jared leans his head back against the window, crosses his arms over his chest, and takes a deep breath. “I have an interview with an aerospace company next weekend.” There are no aerospace companies around here, as far as Jensen knows. “It's in DC.”

His stomach drops. It's not fair to expect Jared to be excited for him when he can't return the favor. Rationally, he knows that Jared needs to get out of the coffee shop and start exploring his options. He needs it like Jensen needs to go to San Francisco to do the same. That doesn't make the growing distance any easier to accept.

“So,” Jared finally says, stepping up to rest his hands on Jensen's hips. “What's this mean for us?”

The most honest answer is one that Jensen is not ready to give, so he just he presses a kiss to Jared's throat and says, “I don't know yet.”

No Touching
Desire

Jared didn't realize how accustomed he had grown to mild winters until he stepped off of the plane in Washington, DC. In the back of his head, he knows he was looking for excuses to turn this job down. December snow and ice fit nicely on the list of cons.

Unfortunately, it was the only thing that didn't live up to, or exceed, his outrageous expectations. The salary and benefits package are more than a guy straight out of college with no experience can realistically expect. Company management was cool, the work environment relaxed, and the facility state-of-the-art. By the time he got back on the plane to come home, the pro side of the list was far longer than the con.

Of course, one con on the list is pretty fucking huge. Even though Jared had considered the possibility of Jensen leaving when he agreed to take the interview, he wasn't expecting it to happen so quickly. He also wasn't expecting to miss the guy so damn much after only forty-eight hours apart. That doesn't exactly make him optimistic for the future.

Choosing to ignore that in favor of the present, he parks his truck in the lot next to the coffee shop and jogs across the street, taking the stairs up to Jensen's studio two at a time. He doesn't bother stopping to knock.

Jensen doesn't look up from the sheet of plywood he's measuring, but Jared can see the smile on his lips from the doorway. “Honey, you're home,” he greets.

It's kind of a miracle that Jared doesn't trip over his own feet in his haste to get his hands on Jensen's bare torso and shoulders. He's so much worse off than he thought he was. He should not be this desperate after just two days.

Laughing, Jensen digs his fingers into Jared's sides and leans in to bite playfully at Jared's bottom lip. “Miss me?” he asks, moaning when Jared grabs his face with both hands and kisses him with all the finesse of a junior high kid at his first make-out party.

“Come on,” Jared breathes against Jensen's cheek before scraping his teeth along his jaw. “Been waitin' to get my hands on you all damn day.”

The plywood against Jensen's back wobbles on the table when he pulls back a little and draws a jagged breath. “Twenty minutes, then I'm all yours.”

“Now.” Jared accentuates his order with a swipe of his tongue against Jensen's neck. He doesn't usually get this aggressive, but dammit, he wants Jensen and he really doesn't think he can wait.

With a raised eyebrow, Jensen looks Jared up and down while he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Alright, how 'bout this? I'm gonna keep working on this, but feel free to try to change my mind. With one condition.” Jared slumps a little, but he's curious. Jensen always finds a way to keep him on his toes. “No touching.”

Jared kind of wants to scream, but he manages to shrug and look reasonably calm. “Oh, I don't need to touch you to make you crazy, Sweetheart.”

The look Jensen shoots his direction is priceless. “Sweetheart? You're starting with negative points there, Sugar.”

Jared laughs, but waits until Jensen is facing the table to rip his tee shirt over his head and step in as close to his back as he can possibly get without touching him. Jensen's shoulders stiffen, but he silently continues marking the wood with his pencil. Jared breathes against the back of his neck, watches the hairs stand up, and smiles to himself. Lifting one hand, he runs it the length of Jensen's shoulder and bicep, less than an inch away from the skin.

Tilting his head, he watches over Jensen's shoulder while he jots down a few measurements. Next to his ear, Jared whispers, “This isn't fair, ya know?” Jensen shudders. “Been waitin' to spread you out on my bed. Wanna suck you down. Finger you open. Fuck into you so crazy slow you think you're gonna lose your mind.”

Stilling, Jensen clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, forcing Jared to back up a little. “I gotta use the jigsaw,” he points toward the wall. “You don't wanna spend the rest of the night in the ER, you might wanna take a breather.”

As much fun as this game is turning out to be, Jared would still rather follow through on the teasing instead of waiting for a surgeon to re-attach one of Jensen's fingers. “Why? Am I getting to ya, Jen?”

With a lazy, knowing grin, Jensen brings the jigsaw over and sets it up. “Dude, everything about you gets to me.” Every time he says something like that, all casual and throwaway, Jared thinks he might explode. How is it possible for him to be even hotter when he's not trying to be? Before Jared can respond, Jensen adds, “Ya know, I said you couldn't touch me. Never said anything about touchin' yourself.”

Jared walks around the table, standing across form Jensen now, and trails his fingers down the center of his chest. “You said no touching, period. But I'm not gonna say no.” He flicks the button open. “Won't take me long.” Inching the zipper down, he waits for the saw to whir to life.

It never does. With a groan, Jensen steps away from the table and crosses to Jared, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back to lick at the column of his throat. “Let's get outta here,” he practically pants against Jared's neck.

While he considers it, Jared decides against gloating about winning this round. It would just waste valuable time he could be spending naked with Jensen.

Second Verse, Same as the First
Trust

It's been a long time since Jensen thought about high school without thinking about that night. Somewhere along the way, he forgot what it was like to kick back with Chris, watching some game neither of them cared anything about while Chris shared the beer he stole from his dad's cooler in the garage.

This isn't exactly the same thing – the beer is Chris's now, as is the house – but it's pretty damn close. They're sprawled at opposite ends of the couch, bottles clutched loosely against the arms while they pass a joint between them. They don't know shit about soccer, but the game's not really the point right now.

“So, when d'ya head out?”

Jensen shrugs in response to Chris' question, puffing before he passes. “I don't know yet.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, shooting Jensen a pointed look. “Don't know 'cause y'all haven't worked out the details yet? Or don't know because you're thinkin' 'bout doin' somethin' dumb?”

“Define 'dumb.'”

“Passin' on the chance at the career you been bustin' your ass for 'cause you wanna stay home and fuck your boy toy is fucking dumb.”

“Then no worries.” Jensen isn't going to stay home; that's ridiculous. Jared's going to DC, so what good would it do him to stay here? “I'm thinkin' maybe New York.” It's close enough to visit more often without actually looking like he's following his boyfriend.

Taking a pull from his bottle, Chris swallows loudly before he asks, “What happens if he doesn't take the job?”

“Then he's an idiot,” Jensen answers without hesitation. Of all the things he's considered in this situation, whether or not Jared should take the job in Washington is not one of them. It's perfect for him. He has to take it.

For a long time, Chris stares at the television. Jensen starts to think that maybe he's actually watching the game. “How long we known each other?”

“Are we countin' the lost years?” Chris huffs a laugh but doesn't turn his head. “Almost twenty years, man,” Jensen supplies, though saying it out loud makes him feel a little old.

Nodding, Chris says, “And in that almost twenty years, have I ever held your hand and cuddled you?”

“No,” Jensen answers. “Thank fuck.” Chris is his best friend, but their relationship has never even gotten close to blurring that line. Ever.

Chris flips him off with a lazy hand. “I ain't about to start strokin' your giant ego today, either.”

Before he can stop himself, Jensen smirks. “What? You wanna stroke my giant...”

“And we're twelve again. Awesome,” Chris cuts him off, like hearing any talk of Jensen's dick might make him physically ill or something.

“I am awesome. It's okay to be jealous.” Jensen's not really even paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth, but this feels so much like the old days, he can't help slipping back into the flow.

Standing with a groan, Chris twists at his waist until his back pops. “That doesn't even make any sense, fuckwad.” He heads into the kitchen for more beer, shaking his head as he walks.

Jensen calls after him, “Then it describes you perfectly.”

“Know what I love about you, Jenny?” Chris is smiling – one of those shit-eating grins that says he knows just how much Jensen hates that nickname – when he returns and offers Jensen's another beer. “It's your genius comebacks. They're...wait for it...awesome.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I hate that I don't hate you.”

“Fair enough.” Chris sinks back to the couch and runs a hand through his hair. “What was I talkin' about again?”

Jensen shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Not like I listen when you talk.”

“Fuck you, I'm brilliant.” Rolling his eyes, Chris drinks half of his new beer in one long gulp and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand – classy, like always. “Now shut up and listen. You need to trust Jared.”

Maybe it's the alcohol, but the only thing Jensen can think to ask is, “Huh?”

“Man, you don't want him to take this job.” When Jensen opens his mouth to retaliate, Chris holds up a finger. “Shut up, you don't. You won't tell him, though. Second verse, same as the first, man. Same damn thing you've always done.”

Jensen has played dumb many times in his life, usually when confronted with his own stupidity. This time, though, he really doesn't know what Chris is talking about. “Because I want him to do what's best for him?”

“Because you want him to do what you think is best for him. Why don't you just tell him the truth and trust him to make the right call?”

He feels stupid asking, but if anyone can assure him without sugar-coating anything, it's Chris. At least, it used to be Chris. Jensen's pretty sure that hasn't changed. “And if the right call is that we end up on opposite coasts?” God, he sounds like such a little kid.

“Fuck if I know, man. What I do know is I don't want your bitch ass parked over there a year from now, cryin' about a buncha coulda, woulda, shoulda's. You love the guy? You want this one to turn out different?” Reaching over to clap a hand on Jensen's thigh, he winks. “Trust him. Hell, trust yourself, man. You are capable of makin' a good decision now and again.”

Coming from anyone else, those words would sound trite. From Chris, they mean a whole fucking lot. As soon as he's sober enough to drive, Jensen might just take his advice.

In a Heartbeat
Heart

As far as ways to spend a Thursday night go, spread out on his hands and knees, stuffed full of Jensen's cock is not the worst one that comes to Jared's mind. The stretch and the pressure feel amazing, and Jensen is working himself in and out so slowly. Jared can't decide if he'd rather do this forever or scream for Jensen to hurry the fuck up already.

With one hand on his hip, Jensen presses his fingers along the curve of Jared's spine and weaves his fingers into his hair. He pulls his head back and leans forward to bite at the side of his neck, panting harsh and heavy against the skin with little grunts that sound needy and desperate. “Feels so fuckin' good,” he growls between nips.

It does, but Jared can't find the words to agree. He moans, presses his head further into Jensen's hand, and thrusts his hips back a little faster. His own cock is painfully hard, but he knows he won't last long once he touches himself, so he closes his eyes and revels in the ache for a little while longer.

“Lean forward,” Jensen orders, pushing on the back of Jared's head until he collapses onto his forearms. His muscles are sore from the strain and it feels good to rest for a second. Releasing Jared's hair, Jensen pulls at his hips with both hands until he can sink even deeper.

“Jesus, yeah,” Jared moans, breath catching his throat when Jensen's hands glide back over his ass, spreading his cheeks and rubbing his stretched rim with one thumb. He can all but feel Jensen's eyes, watching his dick slide in and out of Jared's slick hole, and it sends a spike of heat through his chest and straight to his own cock. “Fuck, Jen, please.” He doesn't even really know what he's asking for, just that he needs.

Jensen's voice comes out ragged and amused as his fingers tease the cut of Jared's hip bone again. “Don’t,” he warns, stroking calloused fingers over Jared’s skin. “Not yet.”

A rebellious voice in Jared’s head wants to argue, but he shoves it down and fights the urge to finish himself off in favor of whatever Jensen has planned. Still, he can’t help flexing a little, squeezing as Jensen ruts forward, causing his fingers to stutter against Jared’s waist.

“Goddammit,” he curses, rhythm stammering erratically as he grips Jared tight enough to bruise when he comes.

Jared doesn’t have time to complain about how fast Jensen pulls out before he’s being tugged and flipped, barely rolling onto his back before Jensen is shoving his legs apart and fucking two fingers back inside him while he sucks Jared’s dick like he’s starving for it.

It’s not enough but it’s all too much, and Jared finds himself coming before he can process every sensation. Jensen smiles when he pulls back, wiping the corner of his mouth against his shoulder while he gives Jared’s spent cock a couple of lazy strokes.

When Jared blinks the ceiling back into focus, Jensen is laying at his side, hands drifting over his stomach, breathing uneven. Sex was good before, but in the last couple of weeks, it’s been kind of insane. There’s this desperate, who knows how much more of this we get urgency between them that makes it pretty awesome in the moment, but then sets the atmosphere a little on edge when it’s over.

Opening his mouth to speak, Jared gets a little distracted by something on the table next to Jensen’s bed. “What the hell is that?” he nods over Jensen’s shoulder.

Rolling his head in the direction Jared is pointing, Jensen laughs, grabs the ball and hands it over. “Misha’s birthday present.”

It’s very clearly supposed to be a human heart, fashioned from plaster, glass shards, and tiny scraps of metal. Judging from the tube sticking out of the hole in the top, Jared assumes it will eventually pump “blood.”

“Do I even wanna know?” Most of what Jensen’s friends say and do has some deeper meaning or significance, but Jared has learned that sometimes it’s better to just let them have their inside jokes.

“Probably not,” Jensen chuckles, shaking his head a little. With a heavy sigh, he turns his face on the pillow and kisses Jared’s shoulder. “Tomorrow’s the big day,” he says, as though Jared has somehow forgotten that he has to call the company in DC with his answer about the job in less than twelve hours.

“What do you think I should do?” It’s the question he’s avoided asking for fear of the answer he knows he’ll get.

Jensen doesn’t disappoint. “Whatever’s best for you, man.” His eyes are more serious than Jared’s ever seen them. “Ideally? I’d want you closer to me, but I can’t promise you a job in San Francisco. I can’t ask you to give up a sure thing for me, Jared. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Would you?” Jared doesn’t even know where the question comes from. “If I asked, would you?”

Without hesitation, Jensen nods his head and rolls off his side of the bed. “In a heartbeat.” He nudges Jared’s foot as he rounds the end. “You want a sandwich?”

“Sure.”

When he’s gone, Jared thinks about the situation like he hasn’t really allowed himself to do yet. He knows Jensen can’t ask, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing that he would. Stupid as it may be to follow a guy he’s only been dating for six months across the country, Jared would do it if Jensen asked him. Genevieve said that he should take Jensen out of the equation when he makes his decision, but Jared is finding that more and more difficult to do. Maybe that means something.

Returning with a plate and two sandwiches, Jensen eases onto the mattress and hands Jared a beer bottle. Nodding toward the heart Jared’s still holding, he says, “You better not fuckin’ break that.”

Jared’s not sure, but he thinks the warning is supposed to be a metaphor.

So This is How It Ends
Ending

Jensen should really start thinking about packing soon. He promised that he would be in San Francisco by the end of the month and, if he doesn't want to end up spending his first check replacing all of his equipment, he's going to have to spend more than one night getting ready to leave.

Somehow, getting wasted and staring at the wall seems like a better idea right now. Jared should be done with his shift at the coffee shop, and he'll be on his way over as soon as he talks to the guys in DC. Being drunk seems like the best way to handle that at the moment.

Unfortunately, Jared shows up before Jensen is anywhere near drunk enough. Slipping his key into the lock, he shoulders into the living room and stops short at the sight of Jensen in his underwear on the couch. “Jesus,” Jared breathes, shaking his head a little when Jensen slowly turns his head and offers him a half smile. “What the hell happened to you?”

If he doesn't think, this will be easier. Standing, Jensen sets his liquor bottle onto the coffee table and turns his full attention to Jared, who still looks a little shell-shocked. “I've been thinking,” he announces, feeling just loose enough. There's still plenty of whiskey left to erase the memories of tonight, if it goes like he think it will.

“About?” Jared quirks an eyebrow and rests his hip against the side of the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

Gesturing between them, Jensen says, “You and me. Me and you. California and Washington and everything, man.” He's rambling, but if he lets Jared interrupt him, he'll never say what he needs to say. “And I think that we, you and me, should just cut our losses and end this thing.”

Jared stumbles a little bit, but regains his balance fairly easily. “You what?”

“You're twenty-two, man. DC's gonna be full of hot political interns and shit. You're gonna wanna get laid. There's no reason for you to settle down yet.”

Jared's brow furrows when he says, “You're going to San Francisco, Jensen. If either of us is gonna be tempted, it's probably gonna be you.”

In all fairness, Jared probably doesn't mean it as an insult, but Jensen's interpretation of the words stings. “You're right. I'm gonna screw this up, Jared. Nobody's gonna be there to stop me and I'm gonna fuck it all up. So we should just,” he stops, his words running too far ahead of his brain. “We should just end it now.”

Stalking across the room, Jared catches his shoulders with both hands and bends his knees just enough to make sure they're eye-to-eye. “I didn't take the job.”

“You what?”

“Turned 'em down. Wasn't the right job for me.” He shrugs like he just decided not to buy milk this week or something.

Jensen can feel his mouth fall open and then snap shut again before he reaches out to cuff the back of Jared's head with his open palm. “It was the perfect job for you, asshole!”

Flinching away from the hand, Jared rolls his eyes and grasps both of Jensen's wrists. “It's the perfect job for somebody else. And before you ask, this isn't only about you. It's about this gut feeling I have. This isn't the job for me, Jensen, and I'm not taking it.”

“But you still don't know where you're gonna end up, right?” Jared shrugs again, allowing Jensen to pace across the room. “So we're still in the same long-distance boat here, man. I just. I don't know, Jared. I think it's smarter to end it now.”

When Jared looks at him, he's angry. There's no other way to spin it. “You don't wanna try to make this thing work. Why don't you just say that?”

“Jared, long distance relationships rarely, if ever, actually work. There's just too much outside interference.”

But Jared isn't budging. With a shake of his head, he runs his hand through his hair and then laughs, cold and sarcastic. “Fuck that. I'm not letting you off the hook because you're afraid this might not work. You think we might get tempted by other people when we're apart? I'm pretty sure we will. But I believe that we can get around that until we figure out a way to be in the same place at the same time. I'm willing to try. I would have been, even if I had taken that job.” He slumps back against the couch. “Can't believe you thought breaking up would make it easier. Idiot.”

Sinking to his side, Jensen isn't sure what to think. Jared could be right, maybe. He could also be incredibly wrong, probably. “What if the next job you find is in New York?”

“What if it's in Sacramento?” is Jared's counter.

For that, Jensen doesn't really have an argument. “I'm leaving in a week,” he says, leaning over to bite the swell of Jared's shoulder. “We should probably have a lot of sex between now and then.”

Jared is laughing when he wraps a hand around the back of Jensen's neck and bites his earlobe playfully. “See, now you're thinkin' like a rational person,” he teases, standing to let himself into Jensen's bedroom.

He still has doubts, but they don't really seem all that important right now.

The Final Countdown
Comfort

“Here.”

Barely glancing up from the book he’s been pretending to read for the last two hours, Jared shoots Sandy a look that hopefully conveys how he just wants to be left alone.

Sandy, however, is not easily deterred. “But it’s got whipped cream. And sprinkles. And chocolate sauce.” She’s playing dirty, making Jared’s favorite drink, but she’s never been good at subtlety. “Just take it, please? You’ve got 'kicked puppy' face and it’s killin’ me.”

Pushing himself off the counter with a growl, Jared takes the steaming hot chocolate and reaches into his pocket to grab his phone as vibrating against his hip. He checks it, stuffs it back into his pocket, and then drinks from the mostly-sugar concoction Sandy makes better than anyone else. “Hand me a cup,” he motions over her head and grabs a syrup bottle.

Sandy finds one of the biggest cups, sets it next to Jared, and starts preparing the coffee for the base of his drink. “Done with his friends, huh?”

Katie insisted that Jensen spend his last night in town with his friends since Jared had to work. Jared wanted to argue but, being as he’s monopolized most of Jensen’s time this week - and also doesn’t want him to spend the whole night bored out of his mind in the coffee shop when he could be out partying with his friends - he decided to spend the night moping instead.

Jared watches Sandy dump four espresso shots into the bottom of the cup while he’s steaming the milk to pour over them. “What time is it?” Jared asks, though he could just as easily look at the clock on the opposite wall. That seems like too much effort tonight.

“Almost eleven.” She hip-checks him and steps out of the way to let Jared finish the drink. “Hey, do you want me to switch shifts with you tomorrow? That way you don’t have to be here so early.” She's pretty transparent in her attempts to comfort him, but he appreciates it anyway.

He starts to answer when the bell over the door chimes. Jared can’t help wondering if there will ever be a time that just the sight of Jensen, standing there in jeans that hang low on hips and hug the curve of his ass just right, won’t make him light up. Right now, he feels less like smiling than he ever has, but he can’t seem to help it. Not when Jensen runs his hand over his hair, shaking some of the glitter from the club free with a laugh.

“Jensen, hey,” Sandy smiles, rounding the corner to hug him quickly. “Jared was just tellin’ me that he needed to take off a little early tonight.” Jared shoots her a confused look, but she just rolls her eyes and takes her place behind the counter again. “Go.”

Without waiting around to be told twice, Jared hands Jensen his coffee and leads the way to the stairs. God, there are too many things to do and less than twelve hours to do them all. It’s not like they’re never going to see each other again, but it’s not going to be the same now.

“Bedroom?” It seems stupid to ask, but he feels awkward and lost in the moment.

Jensen just sets his coffee down and reaches for the back of Jared's neck. He looks so good – touchable, lickable, fuckable – and then he smiles.

It's not one of those smiles he gives the guys who watch when they’re at a club. It’s not even one of those full-bodied, head-thrown-back laughs that he gives when Katie or Misha says something that cracks him up. Jared doesn’t know how to describe this one; he only knows that it’s all for him. It’s soft and endearing, starting at his mouth and reaching all the way to his eyes.

“Relax, okay?” Jensen whispers against his mouth before he sucks Jared's bottom lip between his.

The kiss is agonizingly slow, with just enough pressure for Jared to feel it all the way to his toes. If Jensen wants sex, Jared isn't going to object, but he wouldn't mind doing this all night, either.

Jensen pulls away first, his forehead pressed against Jared's while his thumb strokes softly along Jared's jaw. “I love you, Jay,” he says, his voice ragged and stretched.

“Don't,” Jared shakes his head and pulls away completely, feeling like his chest is about to break open. “Jensen, I can't. Kiss me, or fuck me, or let's go get pizza. I don't care, but I can't do this. I can't sit around all night, staring at you with this fucking countdown clock inside my head.”

“I want you to come with me.” When Jared stares, mouth gaping, Jensen chuckles a little and shakes his head, hand on the back of his neck as he throws the arm out to his side. “I keep tellin' myself not to say it, that it's selfish and I shouldn't. But dammit, man, I want you to come to California with me.”

Unsure of whether he should laugh and hug Jensen or scream and punch him, Jared stares at the floor. “I can't. I just.” He doesn't bother looking up to see Jensen's reaction. “Man, you're leaving in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, like he knows it's ridiculous.

But Jared can't fight the smile when he finally raises his eyes and says, “If I give Sam my notice tomorrow, I can meet you in a couple weeks, though.”

Eyebrow shooting up, Jensen's smile fades instantly. “You're serious?”

“What's keepin' me here?”

Sure, he has friends and family here, but he also has a hundred résumés floating around out there with no real leads. In San Francisco, he'll have Jensen and a new world of possibilities. The choice seems pretty simple.

Back to Basics
Beginning

Jensen isn’t a big fan of clichés and adages, but he has to kind of agree with the one that says ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same.’ Life in the last three months has changed more than he could have ever predicted, but San Francisco feels familiar and comfortable. Already, it feels like he’s right where he belongs.

For the first two weeks, he worked sixteen hour days and slept in Ben’s, the gallery owner’s, guest room. By the time Jared arrived, he’d sold his first piece for enough cash to put down the security deposit and first month’s rent on a decent studio apartment, and his savings account is padded now with the sales of a few more. All in all, it’s going better than he could have expected.


Today, for instance, he’s finishing a public art project that he started last week in an empty lot a few miles from Ben's gallery. It’s been nice to let his imagination run for a few days, to expose his work to a whole new audience, while having fun with his art like he did when he was seventeen, stealing bit pieces from his dad’s tool box in the garage to create something abstract and beautiful.

“Now that is some beautiful art.”

Pivoting, Jensen smiles when Jared walks toward him. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, a sweating plastic cup in his hand. “You like it?”

Jared isn't looking at the sculpture when he nods. “Gets better every time I see it,” he says, kissing Jensen before he offers him the cup. “Rumor has it you like strawberry banana smoothies when you’re working in the heat.”

He steals another kiss before taking the drink from Jared's hand and letting himself fully appreciate the sight before him. He never really got the chance to see Jared dressed for a job interview when they were back home, which is a damn shame. The navy pants make his ass look amazing, and the tie he's wearing brings out the colors in his eyes in a way that Jensen will never admit to noticing. He's not sure he's ever wanted to drag the guy home and tie him to the bed quite like he does now.

“How'd it go?” he asks, resting one hand on his hip while he lifts the cup to his lips, if for no other reason than to keep himself from groping Jared out here in public.

He tries to fight it, but Jared's smile nearly swallows his face. “I got it.”

Interviewing non-stop since he got here, Jared hasn't really been excited about a job like he is about this one. Jensen can see it every time he talks about the possibilities, and the announcement excites him just as much as it does Jared. “Man, I knew it!” When he kisses Jared this time, he doesn't really care how carried away he gets.

“I start Monday,” Jared says, breaking the kiss just before Jensen almost tips his cup against the white fabric at Jared's shoulder. “You think you can be done out here a little early? I wanna go celebrate somewhere.”

Jensen nods. “Man, I can go now if you want. Celebrate at home first.” The idea of stripping Jared out of that shirt and tie is really starting to appeal to him.

Distracted with smoothing his hands over Jensen’s bare shoulders, Jared falls quiet for a minute. “Uh, what?” With a shake of his head, he laughs at himself and meets Jensen’s eye. “Dammit, I have errands to run.” He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes downcast as he runs his index finger over the cut of Jensen’s hip, just above his jeans. “Meet me at home in a couple hours?”

It’s ridiculous how that one simple touch, just one finger ghosting over his skin, turns Jensen inside out. “Definitely,” he nods, swallowing hard. “You should go.”

“Yeah,” Jared doesn’t make much effort to move. “Why do I wanna do that again?” When his tongue darts out to lick his lips, Jensen can feel the hint of it against his own.

“Because, if you don’t,” Jensen breathes against Jared’s jaw, “we’re gonna put on more of a show than I’m usually comfortable with.” He presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

On a shaky laugh, Jared steps back and clears his throat. “Errands. I have errands to run.” He kisses Jensen again quickly and then hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “You need anything from the drug store?” Jensen wiggles his eyebrows and Jared just rolls his eyes. “Besides that?” Jensen just takes another drink of his smoothie. “Alright, cool. Meet me at home in two hours?”

Jensen wants to agree, but Jared is wearing a fucking tie. His shirt is tucked in. His shoes are shiny and pointy-toed. These are things that should not appeal to Jensen’s casual, artisan sensibilities. Apparently, he has a previously undiscovered attraction to corporate attire. Or, at the very least, Jared in corporate attire.

“Make it one hour,” Jensen corrects. Hell, he’ll be impressed with himself if he can manage to make it an hour.

Jared calls over his shoulder as he’s turning to walk away. “I’m gonna grab coffee, and then I’m goin’.”

Jensen watches him go, pointedly ignoring the three guys sitting by the window of the coffee shop across the street. After Jared places his order and turns, hip leaned against the counter and eyes trained solely on Jensen, he peels his tank top over his head and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans.

This show’s really only been for him since the beginning anyway.