Sneaking Out, Part III

[raeschae]

When Jensen doesn't show up at school on Friday, Aldis assures him that it's probably nothing and that he shouldn't worry; sometimes Jensen just skips because he's tired or he doesn't feel like showing up. It's not a big deal. The fact that he's not answering any text messages and all of Jared's calls go straight to Jensen's voicemail isn't, either, according to Danneel. Apparently, Jensen loses his phone three or four times a year. She says she's sure Jared will be the first one he calls as soon as he finds it again.

By Sunday night, Jensen still hasn't called and Jared worries that maybe Genevieve was right.

It's like they're only looking out for themselves and if you trip, if you can't make it on your own, then it's your own damn problem, ya know?





Jensen's back at school on Monday. The first time Jared sees him, though, is after third period. He's got an arm around Misha's shoulder and he's laughing at something Katie is telling him, like nothing is wrong in his world at all. Jared can't decide if he'd rather throw his arms around him and never let go or punch him in the jaw.

When he turns and gives Jared a giant grin without taking so much as a step toward him, Jared thinks maybe punching is the way to go.

“Hey, Padalecki,” Jensen greets, pointing a finger at him with the arm still around Misha's shoulder. “How's it goin'?”

Just like that. Just like he talks to everyone else, Jensen is addressing him as though Jared is just any other guy in their class, as though they've never been anything more than friendly acquaintances. It's almost as though he's using Misha as a shield.

Jared's chest feels like it's going to collapse and he wishes that he could just go back to bed and start this day over. Nobody else is talking, the tension stretching tight and settling heavy around and between them. Jared should probably just walk away, but his feet are frozen in place.

“Come on, J. Pad,” Aldis finally says, stepping around Jensen and Misha to wrap an arm over Jared's shoulders. “We gotta get to Trig, my friend.”

They walk in silence. Well, Jared is silent; Aldis is chattering about the party at Danneel's that Jared had to miss and the football game he played with his brother and uncles on Sunday. He's pointedly ignoring any mention of Jensen and it only makes Jared feel worse about the whole situation.

Finding his seat near the back of the room, Jared slumps low and just prays that Ms. Smith doesn't call on him. He was supposed to spend his weekend catching up on homework, but he was too busy thinking about the train wreck that his life has become to worry about actually doing the equations she assigned.

Jared is staring at his open textbook, giving no illusion of paying attention, when a folded scrap of paper lands in front of him. He raises an eyebrow toward Aldis, but he's flipping the back of Alona's blond hair with the end of his pencil, winking when she turns to giggle over her shoulder in his direction.

You should check your phone for calls from last Friday morning.

Jared waits until the bell signals the end of the class period before making his way to the bathroom. Aldis doesn't try to stop him.

His hands are shaking when he flips his phone open. Somehow, he already knows what he's going to find. He just doesn't know what he's going to do about it.





“Was it my mom or dad?” Jared asks, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the side of Jensen's truck after school.

Slowing to a stop, Jensen sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. He doesn't quite meet Jared's eye when he says, “You didn't tell me you failed two of your midterms.”

“You never asked.”

“Jared,” Jensen starts, tugging on the strap of his messenger bag, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Your folks are just lookin' out for you, okay? And they're probably right. If you're not actin' like yourself lately, it's probably because of me. It's just. I think it's better if we just cool it for awhile, ya know?”

Shaking his head, Jared pushes off the door of the truck and balls his hands into fists at his sides. He's hurt, but he's more angry. It's easy for people to think he's some kind of doormat because he's quiet and he keeps to himself, but he has a breaking point. Jensen just keeps pushing him closer to it all the time.

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath as he walks by, making sure to push Jensen's shoulder with his own as he passes.

Jensen grabs his wrist, tugging when Jared's arm is extended as far as he can get without breaking contact. “Hey,” he says, pausing as though he's waiting for Jared to say something.

“Look, if you don't wanna be with me, it's fine. I'll get over it. Just lemme go.”

He tries to yank his arm back, but Jensen is strong and he's not ready to let Jared go just yet. “Look at me.”

Everything inside of Jared wants to do just that. Hell, everything outside of him wants to look at Jensen, to take him in and memorize every last detail. But if he does that, Jensen is going to see how much this is tearing Jared apart, how not fine it really is, and Jared's not sure he can handle that.

“Jared, come on.”

It's the broken, pleading tone in Jensen's voice that finally draws Jared's eyes from the ground between them.

“I meant what I said. We're gonna get through this,” Jensen assures him. “Just, let's give it some time, okay? You do your thing, get your grades back on track and show your parents that you're still their golden boy. I'll do my thing. Then we'll see what happens, alright?”

“No, not alright,” Jared insists, taking advantage of Jensen's surprise to free himself from the hold. “Ya know what? I'm sick of this bull shit. I wasn't happy before I met you and I'm not fucking happy now. Everything in between was awesome, but that doesn't seem to be enough for anybody, so just,” he huffs, blinks back the angry tears that are threatening to fall, and rakes his hands through his hair before throwing his arms out in defeat. “Fuck all of y'all,” he finishes, spinning on his heel and stalking toward the road.

He's already missed his bus and he's going to have to walk the mile and a half to his house, but Jared just doesn't care anymore. He's not going to sit at home and wonder what Jensen's doing out there, how drunk he's getting, who he's making out with and what party, and then magically pretend like everything's cool in a couple of months when his parents decide to loosen the leash.

He doesn't realize how short of breath he is until he's three blocks away from the school, doesn't notice the strain in his muscles or the sweat that's breaking out around his collar and hairline. He's in shape enough to walk three blocks quickly and not feel like he's just run a marathon. But his heart is racing and he has to stop long enough to collect himself before he can go on.

His entire life has been about keeping his emotions in check, trying so hard to follow the rules and not cause any waves. All Jared has ever wanted is to make sure that nobody notices him; they can't pick on or ridicule someone they don't even see. He has plenty of thoughts and opinions, but he's always convinced himself that they don't matter enough to voice them.

And then Jensen walked in and blew the lock off of Jared's cage. Everything he kept pushing down, the risks he'd always been too scared to take and the words he'd been too afraid to say started clawing their way to the surface. Somewhere along the way, without some grand epiphany or flashing neon sign, Jared started to let himself out. He's not sure when it happened – he can't remember an exact moment when it clicked – but somewhere along the way, Jensen became the safe place for Jared to express himself.

A couple weeks ago, Genevieve told Jared that she didn't want him to lose himself in Jensen. As Jared rounds the corner, onto his street, he shakes his head. He hasn't lost himself in Jensen at all. He's found himself through Jensen.

His mom is waiting for him when he walks in the door, the scent of dinner already filling the house. “How was your day, Sweetie?” she asks in a sugary sweet voice that brings Jared's new-found enlightenment into crystal clarity.

“Terrible,” he mutters, continuing on to his room without bothering to look at her.

He's still grounded. His parents still think he's acting out. On the day that Jared realized he's in love for the first time, Jensen broke up with him. None of that bull shit he was thinking on the way home matters at all. In the end, the only feelings and opinions that matter to anyone are their own.

Crawling onto his bed, Jared grabs his pillow and releases the anger that's been wracking his body since he stepped into that bathroom after Trig this morning, since he realized that someone used his phone to call Jensen on Friday and spoke with him for a minute and twelve seconds. Instead of the fury, he feels the crushing weight of loss and sadness and longing, stealing his breath and forcing tears until his body shakes with the ache of it all.

The next time his parents want to punish him for something, he really hopes they'll just hold him down and beat him to death. It couldn't possibly hurt as much.





As far as Jared is concerned, the worst thing about high school is that you can’t just break up with someone and walk away. Avoidance is impossible, especially since Jensen is in three of his classes and they share the same friends.

Genevieve was very wrong when she predicted that everyone would up and leave Jared if he couldn’t hang with them anymore. Since he’s been grounded, Aldis still pops up in time to walk to the classes they share, Katie and Misha still eat lunch with him, and Danneel still invites him to every party, even though she knows he can’t actually go.

Jensen is the only person who won’t talk to him, won’t even look at him, which sucks because Jensen is the only one that really matters.

Six weeks into what he likes to refer to as his extended sentence – a month for the fight, and an undetermined number of extra weeks for sneaking out - his dad comes into his room while Jared is reading about the shift in social consciousness in the 1960’s. He barely spares a passing glance toward the door; it’s still hard to look at his dad, knowing that he sabotaged Jared’s relationship with Jensen and that he truly believes it was the right thing to do.

“Did you need something?” Jared finally asks when his father doesn’t speak. His dad seems far more interested in studying the photographs of Jared and his friends on the bulletin over Jared’s desk.

Without turning, his dad says, “You look happy here,” while pointing to a picture of Jared, arm slung over Jensen’s shoulder on the massive deck behind Katie’s house. “And here,” he moves on to another photo, one of Danneel about to fall off of his back in Jensen’s basement.

“They’re my friends,” Jared answers with a shrug. It’s nice that his father is finally seeing what is, quite literally, right in front of his face, but Jared told his parents that he was happy months ago and they didn’t want to listen.

Sighing, his dad sinks to the end of the bed. “You’ve been working hard lately,” he commends. At least, Jared thinks it’s supposed to be a commendation. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. “Your mother and I have talked it over and we’ve decided that you’ve earned a little more freedom. We still want to know where you’re going and who’s going to be there but, effective immediately, you’re no longer grounded.”

Jared looks up for the first time, curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

His dad just nods and stands, running his hands over the pleats in his pants. “You’re probably gonna wanna call Jensen,” he says, offering what Jared assumes is supposed to be a small smile of apology, or maybe a truce.

“We’re not really,” he starts to say before he remembers he’s not supposed to be talking to either of his parents. “We don’t talk anymore.”

He interacts as politely as he can to get by, but sometime in the last six weeks, he’s decided that he’s going to act like an immature brat if they’re going to treat him like one. It makes more sense in his head.

“I’m sorry, kid,” his dad says, taking a step closer to the bed so he can pat Jared’s shoulder. “Jared?” When Jared looks up, finds his dad looming like the giant he used to seem to be when Jared was younger, his dad’s frown deepens. “I’m really sorry.”

Jared doesn’t need a pie chart and translator to figure out what his dad is saying. Maybe he’s just tired of being angry all the time – the constant roll of his thoughts and feelings, from miserable to okay to pissed off and back again - has proven to be draining and a little nauseating, sort of like emotional seasickness or something. Who knows? Maybe, on some kind of subconscious level, Jared needs his dad more than he thinks he does.

Instead of analyzing it to death, he just shakes his head and says, “Thanks.”

If only his relationship with Jensen were so easily repaired.





“What the hell are you doing?”

If Jared wasn’t so distracted by the feeling of strong fingers digging into his hip and hot lips against the column of his throat, he would definitely be answering Danneel. Instead, he just grins and turns his attention back to this guy who swears he goes to Jared’s school. Jared’s pretty sure he’s never seen the kid before in his life but he’s drinking for the first time in two months, so maybe Jared is wrong.

“Jared,” Danneel tries again, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking until Jared has to wrench away from his new friend in order to free himself. “Listen to me.”

He tries. Really, Jared does try to listen to Danneel, but over her shoulder, he can see Jensen making out with fucking Matt Bomer on the couch. It’s really fucking hard – pun totally intended – to pay attention to much of anything else when that’s playing in the background.

Jensen’s head tips back, his hand buried in the back of Matt’s hair, and he turns his head. When his eyes open, they fix with laser precision in Jared’s direction and Jared’s heart leaps into his throat. Jensen just watches him until Matt apparently finds exactly the right spot on his neck and Jensen’s eyes close, his groan loud enough for Jared to hear it across the room and above the sound of the driving bass rhythm on the stereo.

“Come on,” he says to his own companion for the evening. He doesn’t know the guy’s name, but that doesn’t seem important right now. What’s important is the way Jensen watches him leave with someone else.

Jared just hopes it makes Jensen as crazy and Jensen is making him.





On Monday morning, Aldis tells him that Jensen took Bomer home on Saturday night and that they went to some skeet shooting range with Matt’s dad on Sunday afternoon.

Awesome.

Jared doesn't admit that he left his guy high and dry in an upstairs bathroom because the thought of anyone but Jensen shoving a hand down his pants made Jared want to throw up.





To cap off an awesome week, Jared's regular lunch routine is disrupted by a torrential downpour. Since he's not about so sit through twenty minutes of Jensen and Matt slobbering all over each other, he heads for the library with Genevieve. She's been on his nerves lately, constantly asking him how he feels and what he's thinking, but she'll have to tone it down in the library. That almost makes eating in there worth it.

“Jared! Man, wait up!”

It's the last voice he expects to hear calling his name down the near-empty hallway.

Slowing to a stop, he waves Genevieve on before he turns. “What's up, Bomer?” He doesn't bother trying to appear congenial. What's the point?

Matt runs a hand through his thick hair and Jared thinks it would be easy to see why Jensen likes the guy if, ya know, Jensen didn't like the guy. His smile alone is electric.

“Look, man, I know I'm probably the last person you wanna talk to right now. I get that. I know how it looks or whatever, but Jensen and I. Dude, we're not together.”

Shaking his head, Jared prays that he looks more apathetic than he actually is. “Whatever. You don't owe me an explanation, man.” More than he ever wanted Jensen's mouth on his dick, Jared wants Matt to stop talking about his relationship with Jensen right now.

“I'm not tryin' to give you one,” Matt assures him, holding his hands up in surrender. “Look, I love that guy, okay? Our dads have been business partners since before we were born. We grew up together. Sure, he gives really fantastic head, but otherwise, we're kind of like brothers, ya know?”

Jared holds a hand up to stop Matt from lodging his foot any further down his own throat. “Is there a point to all of this?” he asks.

With another dimpled grin, Matt rests a hand on Jared's shoulder like they're best friends or something. “Look, we have an awesome time together, Jensen and I, but I've kinda got this other thing I been workin' on for awhile, this guy at Central, and I can't get back to that until you take Jensen back.”

It's so absurd that Jared can't help laughing. He's spent the last week thinking about how happy Jensen looks with Matt and how perfect Matt is for Jensen. He's convinced himself in every possible way that Matt is better for Jensen than Jared is. Now Matt is telling him that he's wrong? What kind of bizarro world is this?

“He wants me back so bad that he sent you to beg for him?”

Shaking his head as though Jared is ridiculous, as though he didn't just do that very thing, he says, “No. He thinks I had to piss. Just. Okay, look,” he says, body shifting as he tries another angle, “Jensen is very intelligent, but he's also an idiot. He's not gonna tell you that he misses you since you broke up with him because he thinks he'll look pathetic. I don't know. If you ask me, pretending to be in love with somebody to make your ex jealous is pretty fucking pathetic anyway, but you didn't ask me. So just think about it okay?”

He leaves Jared standing in the middle of the hall, holding an apple in one hand and a Hostess cherry pie in the other, staring at the lockers lining the wall and wondering what the hell just happened.

Genevieve is pretending to read when Jared finally makes his way to the library and sinks into the chair at her side. “Was Bomer a total dick?” she asks, slamming her book shut immediately. “Please say 'no.' He is way too pretty to hate.”

“He wasn't a dick,” Jared assures her. “He just wants me to get back together with Jensen so he can go hit on some guy at my old school.”

Genevieve opens her mouth to speak and then snaps it shut again. “Oh,” she says dumbly. “I would not have guessed that.” She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts and then asks, “What do you wanna do?”

The problem is that Jared doesn't know. Sure, he's spent a lot of time in the last couple of months thinking about Jensen, but he hasn't really let himself believe that there might be a chance they could get back together. “I should be over him by now.”

With a soft hand on his forearm, Genevieve gives him a look that says he's the cutest kitten at the shelter. “Jared, this is your first big love. You're never gonna be over this one.”

“You're a terrible friend,” he says, wiggling his toes inside his sneakers just to make sure that his body isn't as numb as his brain feels.

She leans her head against his shoulder and sighs. “You want me to hate him for you? I will if you want me to.”

Jared has to smile a little at that as he sinks back into his chair and shakes his head. “Nah. He's way too pretty to hate.”





When Aldis asked Jared if he wanted to come over and play Call of Duty tonight, Jared figured there would be other people here, too. He just didn't expect to walk into some kind of fucked-up intervention.

“What's goin' on?” he asks, cautiously slipping out of his jacket as Danneel, Katie, Aldis, and Misha stare back at him from the couch in Aldis' living room.

Danneel hitches a thumb over her shoulder and says, “Go talk to him before he jumps.”

Eyes shooting to the sliding glass door wall, Jared sees Jensen sitting at the edge of Aldis' little brother's tree house. He's kicking his feet and staring at the ground, red plastic cup forgotten at his side. It's simultaneously adorable and pitiful.

“Why me?” Jared asks, rolling his eyes when they all shoot him the same, bewildered look. “I'm kidding. Jesus, fine.”

He's not ready for this. He hasn't even thought about what he would actually say if he got the chance to talk to Jensen alone. He's been so busy avoiding that very thing that it hasn't seemed relevant until now.

Climbing carefully up the ladder and onto the tree house platform, Jared takes a second to think that this is not like any tree house his dad ever built for him. It's like a mini-mansion in the middle of the biggest tree Jared's ever seen outside of the forest.

It takes him a second to still his pounding heart, his palms sweating against the thighs of his jeans, and then Jared figures he's got nothing to lose. It's not like he can have less of Jensen when this conversation is over.

“Some unsolicited advice, dude?” Jared starts with a smile, sinking to the floor and dangling his legs next to Jensen's. “Easier to make friends if you actually move closer to the people.”

Though he cracks the slightest hint of a smile, Jensen doesn't say anything right away. When he does, his gaze is fixed somewhere in the distance, shielded by those stupid aviators. “What're you doin' here?”

Jared figures he should probably tell Jensen the truth, just come clean right here about missing him and being miserable without him. That feels like giving in, though, and Jared's still not sure he's the one that should be apologizing here.

“Where's Bomer?” he asks instead, knowing full well it's a douche move.

Jensen doesn't look surprised, just rueful. “I know he told you the truth.”

“So all this moping,” Jared leads, gesturing vaguely with a finger in Jensen's general direction, “is because I now know about your pitiful attempt to make me jealous?”

He doesn't know why he's pushing. Jensen just ignites something in Jared that wants to fight, wants to press and argue and feel something more intense than the everyday apathy of being seventeen.

Jerking sharply, Jensen raises an eyebrow and says, “Oh, like it wasn't working.” The accusation is clear as he shifts his body toward Jared. “You wouldn't even look at me!”

“You weren't lookin' at me, either!” Jared huffs an incredulous laugh and turns just enough to face Jensen before he rakes his fingers through his hair. “You're the one who wanted space and distance to go back to doin' what you were doin' before you met me. You don't get to pin it on me because it didn't pan out the way you wanted it to.”

“I'm the one that wanted space? Dude, you're the one that left me in the parking lot with a 'fuck you' and not so much as a 'have a nice day.' If anyone is to blame here, it sure as hell isn't me.” Jensen's hands are shaking when he jumps to his feet and clenches his fists at his sides. “Nobody wanted this to work more than I did,” he adds.

Standing just as quickly, Jared shakes his head and jabs a finger against his own chest. “What about me, Jensen? You don't think I wanted this to work? You don't think you're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me? You're the one who sent me to my room when I couldn't hang out with you in the middle of the night anymore!'

As quickly as his anger had flared, Jensen's shoulders deflate. “Is that really what you think? That I just didn't wanna wait for you?” With a frustrated shake of his head, he adds, “You're a fucking idiot.”

“Well, what was I supposed to think? You have a reputation.” It's a weak argument and Jared knows it as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“I stand corrected,” Jensen concedes with a scowl. “I'm the fucking idiot here. I'm the one who actually let myself believe you were different, that maybe you saw past all that bullshit everybody thinks they know about me.”

Jared deserves that, but it still hurts to hear the disappointment in Jensen's tone. “So remind me,” he suggests, anger ebbing as Jensen's shoulders stiffen. It's an unspoken challenge, an impasse, and Jared will be damned if he's going to back down like he does with everyone else. “Take off those damn glasses for a second and show me who you are again.”

It feels like a stupid request, but it feels important right now.

Hesitating, Jensen pulls the glasses off with both hands and the bloodshot ache in his eyes surprises Jared. “Jesus, you look like shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

It makes Jensen laugh, short and unamused. “Yeah, well,” he finally says. “It's your fuckin' fault.”

Jared probably shouldn't take pride in that statement, but he does anyway. He likes knowing that Jensen is this fucked up over him, as fucked up as Jared is over Jensen. Suddenly, this whole thing is the funniest thing Jared has ever been a part of and he can't stop himself from bellowing a loud laugh into the silence of the evening.

“Sure,” Jensen says, a smile cracking the corner of his lips. “Go ahead and mock my tragic heartbreak, Jared. That's really nice.”

“How many dark poems did you write about your epic manpain?” Stepping closer, Jared reaches out to hook his finger through one of Jensen's belt loops. “C'mon. You can tell me.”

Eyes narrowing, Jensen's struggle to look unaffected is written all over the scrunched expression on his face. “Probably not half as many as you wrote about yours,” is his response.

Jared can't help feeling like the three-ton elephant that's been sitting on his chest for weeks just got up. Throwing his head back, he laughs for what feels like the first time.

While Jared has missed joking around with Jensen in the last couple of months, he wants more than just the friendship they built when they met. Jensen teases everyone; Jared doesn't want to be just another guy to him.

Jensen isn't going to take this further. He's not going to take the next step, so Jared licks his lips, swallows his pride, and says, “I miss you.”

He doesn't expect Jensen to return the sentiment, but he has to admit that it feels good to see him nod and then shrug his agreement. When he tangles a hand in the back of Jared's hair and pulls him forward, it feels even better.

It's easy to forget that they're not totally alone when Jensen kisses him, the familiar taste of Jensen's tongue exploding against Jared's as Jared grips Jensen's hips tight and pulls him in tight against Jared's chest.

Fortunately, the catcalls and whistles from the house remind him.

“You wanna get outta here?” Jensen asks him.

Jared doesn't even have to think about his answer. “More than anything.”





“What time do you have to be back again?”

Jared rolls his eyes and stretches against the sleeping bag Jensen has laid out in the bed of his truck. “Midnight,” he answers for the third time, folding his arms behind his head.

The moon is full overhead, filtering through the trees in silver threads that wash the color from everything around them. It's a little cold, but Jared has a feeling that's not going to be a problem for long. At least he hopes it's not.

Draping his legs over Jared's, Jensen leans his back against the truck's side wall. “You're supposed to be at Aldis',” he points out.

“Dude.” Jared props himself up on his elbows and levels Jensen with a flat glare. “Let me worry about my parents, okay?”

“I did. Until your dad called me at seven-fucking-thirty on a Friday morning to tell me to stay the hell away from you.” He says it like it's supposed to be a joke but Jared can tell that it still bothers Jensen.

With a sigh, he sits and rests his arms against his upturned knees. “I'm really sorry about that,” he apologizes. “That was between me and him. They never should have dragged you into it.”

“You wanna know somethin' really fucked up?” When Jared nods, Jensen goes on. “Don't get me wrong, I don't ever wanna have that conversation again or anything. But, I don't know, he said somethin' that kinda... He told me that you were -” Jensen stops, eyes squinting as though he's trying to find the exact words in his memory, “incapable of thinking rationally when it came to me.”

Jared snorts because it certainly doesn't sound like the kind of thing that would make him react like Jensen is right now, biting his lower lip like he's trying to hold back a smile.

“Maybe I'm just fucked up, man, but I think it's kinda cool that you're all irrational and illogical about me.” He looks up just enough to find Jared with the corner of his eye. “I don't know. That's kinda what I think love is supposed to be, ya know?”

For a word that's so small, it sure packs a hell of a punch.

“My dad played football in college,” Jared finds himself saying, never stopping to wonder if this is going to make sense outside of his head. “You know how big he is, right? My mom has this picture of me and my brother wearing his jersey, like at the same time. My brother was eight, I think. I was, like, three. It just totally swallowed both of us up. Went all the way to the floor. You can barely see the top of my head in it.”

Jensen doesn't push for an explanation, but he doesn't look like he's getting it, either.

“It's like that, I think.” Jared looks straight into Jensen's eyes even though he can feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck and into his ears. “Love, I mean. Like it feels too big or something. We tripped up every time we tried to move in that thing, man. But I remember thinking that it was so cool that we were in there at the same time, that we both fit in it together.” He laughs at himself humorlessly before he lays back down and stares up at the splash of stars against the black sky. “Or maybe I'm just bein' a melodramatic bitch. I don't know.”

He feels Jensen's hand on his stomach just before he feels the length of his body settling in next to Jared's. He hooks one leg over Jared's and presses his lips to the side of Jared's neck. “I missed you, too,” he confesses in a voice so low, Jared thinks maybe he misheard.

Turning his face, Jared brings one arm up between them to brush his knuckles over the warm skin exposed between Jensen's tee shirt and his jeans. “Yeah?”

Eyes drifting closed, Jensen nods. His eyelashes brush against Jared's jaw when his fingers slip under Jared's shirt and skim lightly against the soft hair beneath Jared's navel. He doesn't speak; he doesn't have to when he lifts his head to suck Jared's bottom lip between both of his.

Jared shifts to his side, causing Jensen's thigh to press tighter between Jared's legs as Jared grips the sides of his head and takes control of a kiss that feels like he's been waiting an eternity to have. It's different now than it used to be.

When Jensen's hand slides around Jared's waist, his hand firm against Jared's back, Jared pulls away. “If I get a flashlight in the face this time, I swear to fuck all, Jensen.” His voice is barely audible above his jagged breath. He wants this, isn't sure he can wait anymore. If they get interrupted, Jared might have to kill someone.

“Won't,” Jensen promises, thumb teasing the skin under Jared's waistband. “My dad owns this land,” he explains, lifting one hand to push Jared's hair out of his face. “Private property. No cops. Didn't wanna risk it this time.”

It's probably the first time Jensen has ever not wanted to take a risk. It's probably the first time Jared's been glad about that.

He's thought about this more times than he wants to admit, peeling his sweatshirt over his head while Jensen strips out of his own tee shirt. He's imagined what it would look like to see Jensen laid out, chest flushed and eyes fixed solely on Jared. Jared's imagination is for shit, though. Jensen has never looked this good in Jared's head.

Jensen's legs fall open to cradle Jared, his arms wrapping around Jared's back until Jared falls against him. The air around them is chilled but their skin is warm, causing a shiver to shoot through Jared's spine, though he's not entirely sure it's the weather that's making him shake.

One of Jared's favorite things is that Jensen kisses like he might never get another chance to do it, totally abandoned to any inhibitions, as though he needs to make this the best kiss he's ever had, just in case he’s right. His hands grip at Jared's hips and he moans low from the back of his throat, like the sound can't be held in his chest anymore.

Jensen's voice is ragged when he pulls back to ask, “What do you wanna do?” against Jared's jaw.

Everything pops into his head, but Jared doesn't say it. He's too busy trying to maintain contact with Jensen's bare skin while avoiding the throbbing ache of his dick, hard and desperate for friction. The most humiliating thing in the world would be for his first time to end before it even starts.

Instead, he groans as Jensen buries one hand in his hair and yanks his head back. “Come on, Jensen. Don't be that guy,” he pleads softly.

“What guy?” It irritates Jared that Jensen's breathing has evened out enough to form a two-word sentence without panting. “The guy who gives a fuck that he's taking your virginity? Sorry, man,” he apologizes with a bright smile. “I'm totally gonna be that guy.” He lifts his head far enough to press a quick kiss to Jared's chin before he lays back and guides Jared's face to the bend of his neck. “I give a fuck about you. Sue me.”

Jared has to chuckle; he's afraid he might cry if he doesn't. It's more frustration than actual emotion, if that counts for anything. “I don't even care,” he whines. “Just get a hand on my dick and I don't care what you do with it from there, please.”

He can feel Jensen smile against his cheek, his hands trailing Jared's side slowly. If he didn't know better, if Jensen hadn't done this a hundred more times than Jared already, Jared might think that Jensen's hand feels like it's trembling by the time it reaches Jared's belt.

“Roll over for me, okay?” Jensen says.

This time Jared knows that he's not imagining things. Jensen's voice is shaking along with his fingers. “Are you okay with this?” he asks, the terrible thought that maybe Jensen doesn't want this with him flooding over him.

Tongue trapped between his lips, Jensen fumbles Jared's belt and button open. When he looks up, his nerves are showing. Sliding Jared's zipper down, Jensen nods. “I'm good.”

It's difficult to be worried about anything when Jensen slips his hand over Jared's underwear, cupping his dick and rubbing his palm over it softly. “Oh, god,” he groans, eyes clenching shut because no amount of willing it away is going to drag this out long enough. “Stop.”

Jensen draws his hand back like Jared's dick is made of fire. He doesn't speak, only gapes with wide eyes as though he's broken a valuable heirloom or something.

Breathing heavy through his nose, Jared rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. “This is gonna suck,” he says. When he manages to lift his arm far enough to see Jensen's mortified expression, he bolts upright. “God, not you. You're, shit, Jensen, you're perfect. Maybe just a little too perfect, ya know?”

He can see the moment that his meaning dawns on Jensen, can tell from the broad spread of Jensen's mischievous grin. “Sit up,” he orders, nodding toward the side of the truck. “Lean back over there.”

Though moving is a little painful, Jared does as he's told, doing his best to look anywhere but at Jensen. It's embarrassing enough to have called it off in the middle, but to see Jensen laughing at him is worse.

“Hey,” Jensen whispers, hands on Jared's shoulders as he slides in between Jared's spread knees. “Look at me, Jared, it's fine.”

Jared's eyebrow shoots up incredulously. “There's no way your first time was this awkward.”

With a shrug, Jensen reaches back into Jared's jeans and lets his gaze drop between them as he pulls Jared's dick out, head shining obscenely wet in the pale light from the moon. “Dude, my first time was so cliché, it's embarrassing,” he admits.

Jared chuckles, tries to zero in on Jensen's words instead of the ridiculously smooth feeling of his thumb rolling over the head of Jared's dick. If he can do that, maybe this can last more than a minute.

“I'm serious. I was at summer camp, for one thing. And I was with Bomer, who was my best friend, so you can tick that box, too.”

He doesn't mean to tense his shoulders at the mention of that name, but Jared thinks maybe it's understandable that it bothers him a little.

Jensen just leans in and kisses him, a slow, lazy roll of his tongue along Jared's lower lip. “I came in my pants and he made fun of me for the next three weeks.” Sliding his hand down Jared's cock, he whispers, “Your first time is better, believe me,” against his ear.

That's all it takes. One pump and a little breath against his ear and Jared can't hold it. He's spurting against Jensen's fist, his face buried against Jensen's shoulder in humiliation while he mutters, “shit, shit, shit,” against Jensen's skin.

Chuckling, Jensen continues to stroke Jared through his orgasm. When he pulls back, he grabs Jared's chin with his free hand and forces Jared to look at him. “Hey, guess what?” Jared can only imagine how disbelieving his face must look when Jensen kisses him and then pulls back to run a thumb over Jared's lower lip. “You are so fucking hot when you come.”

He flushes, face so hot he has to look away. “Shut up.”

“No, you are,” Jensen insists. “Which just means that we're gonna have to do this a lot more, 'cause I gotta see that again.” He licks his lips and slinks back a little bit. “Come here. Lie down with me.”

Jared hesitates. It's not because he doesn't want to believe Jensen, but he still feels raw and a little overwhelmed, exposed. “Jensen.”

“I'm serious,” Jensen interrupts him. “Get over here. Lemme suck you 'til you're hard again. Then I can show you what I get off thinkin' about.”

He wiggles his eyebrows in the most idiotic way and Jared can't help releasing a tense breath in loud laughter. “You're a dork,” he says as he makes his way back to Jensen's side.

With a nod, Jensen pushes Jared's thighs apart and positions himself between them. “I am,” he agrees with another blinding grin. “And you're stuck with me. So get used to it.”





Common sense dictates that Jared pack up his books and haul his ass inside. The clouds overhead are dark, the wind is picking up, and the cold is biting through the three shirts that he's wearing under his jacket. There's just nowhere else on campus that he's found he studies as effectively.

He's read three pages of Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House when a shadow falls over his book and a pink highlighter drops onto the page. He looks up to see Jensen sinking to the grass at his side, pushing his sunglasses onto his head.

“It's cold as balls out here, man,” Jensen announces.

Jared just shakes his head and uncaps the highlighter. “So go inside,” he suggests, though he's leaning into the warmth of Jensen's side as he says it.

After a long beat of silence, Jensen responds with, “Or you could warm me up,” his voice low and dripping with intent.

It used to turn Jared inside out. Now it just makes him roll his eyes and turn reluctantly, kissing Jensen as though it's some kind of chore. “That's all you get for now. I have to finish reading all of Act One,” he explains, holding the book up for Jensen to see the title before he nods toward his backpack. “Then I gotta study for my Trig final.”

“I aced my Trig final,” Jensen tells him, smug and grinning. “Last year.”

As infuriating as it can be to watch Jensen hide his brains and act like an idiot frat boy, it's equally frustrating to Jared when he flaunts it. “You should tutor me then,” he says. It's supposed to sound disgusted but it's hard to find the bite behind the words when Jared can't stop smiling every time he sees Jensen's face.

“Tell ya what,” Jensen answers, groaning as he makes his way to his feet. “You come inside with me right now, I will help you study for Trig. You can do the reading at home later and bring my highlighter back at Danneel's tonight.”

“Dude, it's, like, fifty-eight degrees out here. You're such a bitch,” Jared teases as he's packing his book away and standing to hitch his bag over his shoulder.

Jensen reaches over to press one cold hand to Jared's cheek. “I'm like a fucking Twilight vampire out here.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jared levels Jensen with a glare. It's a glare that Jensen responds to with a raucous chortle. “That book is totally on your shelf at home, isn't it?” Jensen just shrugs and offers no other explanation. “I can't believe I'm sleeping with you.”

Throwing an arm around Jared's shoulder, Jensen smacks his lips against Jared's cheek, loud and obnoxious. “I know, right? You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Jared would disagree, but he can't. Six months ago, he was sure that his senior year was going to be like every other year of high school had been, something to endure and survive. He's lucky that he was wrong.

Bonus Outtake