i am not known for completing wips, so this is a miracle in itself.

the roaring conclusion! at long last! this took longer than i thought it would to post, but thank you so much to everyone who stuck it out till the end. i really appreciate all the comments and support!


full notes, disclaimer, etc. in the master post.






04
maybe it's time i settle




The day is bright but mild, and the trees pad the sound of his footsteps as he walks up to the house. He has spent the entire day driving around the city, from downtown to Echo Park, to Ventura, into the Hills. He has stopped for coffee three times and filled his tank once.

He has talked himself out of it, and then back into it, and has reasoned that this is the best thing he could give either of them. He is right. He has tried, but he can’t love her anymore.

For some reason, Jared doesn’t anticipate the tears.

It is a difficult thing to say, and Sandy has to stare at him for a long time before he is able to get the words out. Even then, it is difficult to look into her face, soft and clean from a shower while her eyes show a measure of wariness. Still, the words come, and from the start of I’m sorry, but, she lets the tears flow.

He stares at her, keeps a hand on her knee, watches them drip from under the hands that cover her eyes. He bites his lip, feels his face heat with the effort of keeping it together. The rush of guilt he feels turns his stomach to slop. He’d thought she felt it too; their passion was gone. Why would she want to marry someone without it?

He feels suddenly that he is breaking her heart; he feels it on the haste of the air that stirs against him when she starts up from her chair and hurries to the bedroom with the slam of a door. He sits alone in the kitchen like so many times before, and wonders why he has never just followed her.

I’m sorry, but.

That night Sandy calls his mother, and Sherri yells so loud that Jared can hear the cell phone in the next room. Then Jared hears his cell vibrating, and when he picks it up it’s his father, saying, what in the Hell are you thinking, huh? And Sandy is still in the bedroom crying to Jared’s mother so Jared just listens to his father, who yells and says how dare you and you’re ruining the best thing that ever happened to you. And Jared just takes it, because he is a dog, and he is selfish, and he deserves the anger.

He deserves it, because the truth happened four fucking years ago, with a handshake and a smirk, and he ignored it.

It seems disrespectful to occupy himself while Sandy is crying herself to sleep in their bed. He knocks on the bedroom door once, but he’s met with darkness and silence, not even a stir. He doesn’t turn on the television, or sign onto the internet, or eat, or call someone. What he is desperate to do is leave. He feels that what she wants is for him to leave her alone, to disappear, to die.

But if he ran, he would go home to Vancouver, and if he ran home to Vancouver he would hide in evergreens and mountains and exhaustion, and he would take solace in Jensen’s companionship, and he would never deal with breaking off his engagement to a woman he loved. So he stays, waiting for something, staring at nothing, picking at couch fibers, and not sleeping.

The next morning, the kitchen is positively acidic when he enters. He is still dressed in yesterday’s jeans. Sandy is sitting at the table with an untouched mug of coffee, staring blankly out the window. He slides into a chair and she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t acknowledge that he’s there. He is afraid to move, knots fingers against the denim on his thighs, and waits.

Then she asks, quietly, “What time is your flight?”

And he says, “Noon.”

And she says, “Good.”

“Sandy –“

“Jared,” she says sharply, and he falls silent. She looks at him then. “I can’t right now. Whatever you’re going to say, I fucking can’t. I’m not ready for anything else beyond ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ So just get your shit, go back to Vancouver, and we’ll talk when I’m ready to talk.”

Her mouth snaps shut as quickly as it had opened, and this is as much she’s said to him since he came home yesterday. Dozens of pleas and apologies spring to his tongue but he tightens his jaw, because she just looks so tired. He wants to touch the lines on her face, or smooth her hair back, or hug her, but is too terrified to do any of it. He hates himself for hurting her.

While they sit, she says sadly, out the window: “Goddamnit, Jared, you fucking ruined everything.”




When Jared gets back to Vancouver on Sunday, he ducks into his bedroom and doesn’t come out. After muscling through an hour by himself in the blue-tinted darkness of his television’s glow, he rustles Harley from his place on the floor and calls him up into the bed; they lay together and watch game shows and Jared lets his sadness escape into Harley’s fur. He misses his girls.

He answers the phone only for Kim, who calls to elaborate on the schedule he’d laid out for Jared earlier this morning while Jared took up three seats at his flight gate in LAX. Jared had barely listened, Kim had called him out on his lack of professionalism, and Jared had quickly apologized and snapped to attention. Genuine fear had coursed through him then: he had to rest and then get a grip. He’s back to work.

“Everything all right, Jared?” Kim asks now, gruff, and he sounds like he’s trying to make himself not ask it.

“Yeah, Kim,” Jared says. He taunts, “Listen: I love you, man.”

“Shove it, kid,” Kim says, and hangs up.

Jared grins, feels better, tosses his phone to the floor and finally lets himself fall asleep.

He feels rested in the morning, drags himself out of bed early enough to toast six pieces of Italian bread and douse them in butter. He’s just locking his door when the big black Suburban parks at the curb for him; he will always have perfect timing in the morning, and a surge of comfort starts in his chest and rolls outward.

He slides in next to Jensen, who looks up from where he was dosing against the passenger window. Mornin’, he says, and thanks, when he takes the cooling toast that Jared offers him (are we okay?).

And Jensen has this tiny smile on his face, studying Jared carefully, and Jared feels the corners of his mouth hitching up despite all the reasons they shouldn’t. Jensen takes an animal bite, shoves half the toast in his mouth without preamble, and Jared laughs out loud.

“Nice,” Jared says, and Jensen talks with his mouthful, but he is already back to dosing, eyes closed, temple against the glass while he chews.

We are fine.




A week later, and Jared has used over 900 minutes on his cell phone. He has talked his mother down from the edge of who-knows-what, has reasoned with his father, has tried to explain to Jeff that, yeah, that’s really it. I really just fell out of love. And everyone wants to know why, and why, and why? And Jared gets panicky, and he just says I don’t know, I don’t know, because he’s not ready for that part of the equation yet.

And Megan, bless her Heart, she is the only one who has a clue, because she just says, “Jared, I really, really want you to be happy.”

And he starts to cry. “Megan,” he says.

And she says, “You know you’re my hero, right?”

And then he can’t stop, and says, “I love you, Megan, I love you.”

He waits and waits for Sandy to call, but she doesn’t. She consumes his every thought for an entire month. He wonders how badly she hurts now, who she’s been talking to, what jobs she’s been taking. She doesn’t even email, and it drives him insane.

He wonders if she thinks about him, wonders in an obsessive way that reminds him of when he first met her, an age ago. Is she thinking about him trying on jeans in wardrobe, or digging half-heartedly into a Mediterranean lunch spread, or playing basketball with Nick the intern between takes? Does she still care about him?

The fact that she doesn’t have anything to say to him hurts more than anything. Sandy has always been a friend, even when they’ve fought. She’s always at least heard him out. Sandy doesn’t ignore phone calls; she doesn’t ignore fights; she doesn’t ignore people. He wonders, what has he done to her?

Jared gets by the only way he knows: he dives into the job. He sinks his frustration and his anger and his sadness into Sam Winchester and lets it all escape onto film.

He is focused to a point where others step around him, afraid to disturb the fine-tuned control he’s exhibiting. They are impressed, and nervous. He knows they look at each other over his head in question. He knows they assume the worst, and they are right, but he is not ready to discuss it.

At times he floods a scene with emotion and it’s cathartic, and he comes off the film day feeling so energized he could run into the cold winter sea and back. After a day like that, Jensen asks, how are you doing? Want to get a beer?

He doesn’t ask, want to talk about it? But Jared knows the offer is there.

Jared declines, over and over. He spends his time with Harley, or at the gym, and he keeps his phone with him but Sandy never calls, never offers any chance for him to explain himself, never gives him the opportunity to help her resolve the ugly frayed thing that’s unraveled between them.

He wants to tell her that he is just crazy, that she is beautiful and radiant and full of love, but it’s not enough for him, and that’s not her fault. He wants to tell her he’s afraid of forever, and that’s not her fault either. He thinks of a hundred ways to tell her it’s not her fault, but in the end every single one of them still equals out to, I don’t love you.

And after an entire month his strength wanes and he thinks, all right. You win. I’ll stop waiting for you.




Things get a little better after Jared has made peace with his family. It was important for him to talk them through their anger and know that he still has their support. Even his mother had sighed tiredly at Jared’s begging and said, “Baby, don’t be a fool. You know I love you.” And that had settled into Jared’s heart and comforted him something fierce.

He loosens up after that, becomes more approachable on set. He hadn’t realized until now the wide breadth of space he’d been given from just about everyone on the crew. He begins sidling back up to them – lighting guys, caterers, the wardrobe girls, PA’s, even the producers. He asks questions, makes jokes, smiles again. And Jensen is always at his elbow, quiet, laughing with him, picking up the stories Jared trails off on.

One afternoon they have some downtime, and Jared is sitting with Jensen at a picnic table under a makeshift tent by a clear lake in the foothills north of the city. It’s cold but dry, and the noontime sun is bright and Jared can feel it on the top of his head.

They’re playing poker with Cait, and Cait is one tough kid at the card table. But today she’s distracted, sitting next to Jensen, elbowing and showboating and sneakily trying to look over Jensen’s shoulder at his cards.

And Jared is grinning, and trying not to think on it for one second, but the truth is that it’s prickling the back of his neck like a fever. He remembers that conversation, on a night where nothing made any sense, until now, where Jared remembers, Are you jealous of Cait? And finds he can answer the question honestly.

So it helps when Jensen looks right at him, over their cards, and says, “I have a surprise for you.”

And Jared’s stomach clenches involuntarily but he raises an eyebrow, all casual, says, “Oh?”

“Yeah. Somewhere to take you next week. If you’re ready.”

“If I’m ready,” Jared scoffs. “I’m always ready.”

But Jared smiles for real, and lets Cait flirt and flirt with Jensen to her heart’s content.

He stares at his cards, and looks up at Jensen, and Jensen’s looking up at the same time, their gazes catch and Jensen looks away quickly, that small smile playing as Cait nudges him and says, pony up, cowboy.

Jensen’s got nothing, and Cait’s got three queens, so when Jared lays his cards down they all laugh, because he’s been so quiet that no one saw it coming. Straight flush.




A week later, they have two days off and Jared climbs into Jensen’s leased Altima without the slightest idea where they are headed.

“Bigger than a bread box?” he tries, staring at Jensen’s clean cut profile with some secret measure of indulgence.

Jensen just smiles, shakes his head, casts a sidelong glance over to Jared. Jared heats beneath his collar, and looks away, and something has cracked open between them to electrify the winter air.

Jensen is driving to the other end of the city, a section they rarely visit because there isn’t much there. The day is dreary as Canada can get; bitter cold and damp, with icy winds that come off the ocean and roll right over the city. These are the things that make up tundra, Jared thinks, and he watches the dead, unfamiliar streets pass with some bizarre sense of pride.

This is our place.

Jensen pulls into a parking spot on the street and cuts the engine. Jared looks around for a moment, studies the quiet street through the frosted windshield. He stares at the building they’re in front of, and then looks at Jensen in disbelief.

“Animal Rescue,” he says dumbly.

“Are you ready?” Jensen asks.

Jared stares for a second, marveling a little, feeling in love a little, watching Jensen’s face as it grows more and more cautious, like maybe he made a mistake. You didn’t, Jared wants to say.

He smiles. “I’m ready.”

And Jensen smiles. I know.

Inside, the dog handler is a pretty teen with a long blonde ponytail who lets Jared stand in a pen with twenty-five dogs who all want a little piece of him: his fingers, his legs, his lap, his cheeks, his hair. It is a matter of minutes before he is laid out in the straw like an offering, with twenty-five snouts nosing him excitedly.

He hears Jensen’s laughter somewhere outside the circle, and he opens his eyes to follow it, but all he sees are wiggling backsides and wagging tails blocking out the room. It’s enough to make a grown man emotional, damnit.

Then Jensen is there above him, hovering into that tiny space between dogs, holding a hand out to pull him up out of the melee. They spent the next half hour scrubbing at heads, playfully tugging tails, asking the girl: How old is this one? Does this one do alright with other dogs? Does this one always pee herself when she sees new people?

Jared’s on his knees wrestling with a big black lab when he notices that Jensen has been spending a lot of time with one shaggy-coated mutt with dark coloring and big, floppy ears.

“Who’s that?” he asks the handler, who is trying to pull a male rottweiler off the back of an offended-looking retriever.

“That’s Jackson,” she replies. “Two years old, his family left him here because they were moving into a smaller place and believe me – he’s not an apartment kind of dog. Energy to the max: once he gets going, he’s hard to pull in.”

Jared nods, considering. He likes the look of obedience, the way he sits impatiently and just stares, full of love, waiting for Jensen to make the moves. “Gets on with other dogs?” he asks.

“He’s been great here with these guys, was real good with the family’s kids too. You could swing by with Harley sometime this week if you want, see how they do together.”

“That’d be great.”

Jared walks over to them, where Jackson’s rolled over, tongue lolling into the straw while Jensen scratches his belly. Jensen looks up and he is clearly insane about this dog, a big dumb grin lighting his eyes.

“So, Jared, Jensen, and Jackson, huh,” Jared says, kneeling down to join them. He puts a hand on Jackson, who welcomes him with a friendly head butt.

Jensen’s eyebrows go to his hairline and he says, “Yeah? You think? Cause man, this dog’s got me talkin’ baby talk here. Huh? Whosa big wittle man.”

The dog is positively wriggling at the sound of Jensen’s voice and Jared thinks, well, Jesus. If that ain’t love.




The shooting schedule continues to make up for lost time and runs Jared and Jensen completely ragged. They spend three days in a row doing 5am to 10pm, going slap-happy and dumb with exhaustion. Again and again they ruin takes with uncontrollable laughter, or they forget lines, or they can’t get their bodies to do something as simple as sliding into a diner booth.

Drinking coffee makes them insane; not a nice, focused alert but tense, which is great on film but fuckssake they are crawling out of their skins by the time they get off this stint.

On the last night they pull themselves miserably into the Suburban, backed away from the proverbial cliff by the knowledge that they have tomorrow off. Jensen closes the door behind them and collapses back into the bench. Jared lies down with his head against Jensen’s thigh, and at this level of exhaustion, it’s as simple as: I want this, so I’m going to do it. Jensen slides fingers into Jared’s hair without so much as opening his eyes.

“We just did fifty hours in three days,” Jared mumbles, eyes closing, fingers warm, wedged beneath Jensen’s thigh and curling.

Jensen hums a quiet agreement, a hand settling over Jared’s shoulder, his other fingers lazily moving against Jared’s forehead.

When they pull up to Jared’s house, Jensen has to wake him up. Jared blinks sleepily and says, “Come in with me,” and Jensen looks at him for a moment, hesitating, and Jared feels a completely unwarranted panic rising up inside him. What if, what if, what if –

But then Jensen nods, and climbs out behind him into the cold night, feet dragging while Jared fumbles with the keys.

Inside, Jackson and Harley fall over themselves to get lazy, half-hearted ear scratches. There’s a note from Annabelle by the door that makes Jared smile: the dogs are fed and happy, get some rest!

He texts her immediately, you’re my favorite person, and then opens the backdoor to let them out for a few minutes anyway. She replies while he waits for the dogs to come back, No I’m not, but thanks, and he nods because she’s right, as always.

Jackets get draped over the recliner in the living room, shoes toed off in the hallway, and jeans last, when they reach the bedroom. The dogs settle in their separate beds on the floor by the window. Jensen slides between the sheets, under the moonlight, beside Jared, and goddamn, does this feel right.

Jared reaches out, fingertips skimming Jensen’s spine, and it’s enough of an invitation to make Jensen turn into him, and then Jared’s arms come out and wrap around him, mouth resting against Jensen’s temple, and that’s it. There’s no getting out of this now.

“Is this, okay, now?” he asks into Jensen’s hair. “Are we ready for this?”

He doesn’t say, this feels better than I thought it would.

And Jensen says, “Are you?” Then he asks, “Have you talked to Sandy?”

And Jared thinks about this, isn’t sure what to say, and he knows he’s ready, but doesn’t know what it’s going to take for Jensen to believe him.

“I haven’t. She’s not ready, she might never be. But I’ve made peace with myself for now. I did the right thing, and I’m ready to be exactly here.”

“Okay,” Jensen says.

I knew how good this would feel.

And when Jared looks down into Jensen’s face he is smiling to himself, so Jared leans in. His nose brushes Jensen’s cheek, nudging him to look up, to turn his mouth up, to find Jared, and their lips catch, and fuck this is sexy, Jared thinks, because in this hesitation, Jensen’s breathing has gone rough, holding in and then rushing out, hot over Jared’s mouth.

Jared takes a breath, it’s more of a hitch, and kisses Jensen, and it is slow and tired but charged, and Jensen grazes Jared’s bottom lip with his teeth, and kisses him deep, mouth open, tongue curling lightly.

And that kiss goes straight to Jared’s dick and he groans, and edges himself over Jensen’s chest, pressing him into the sheets, loving the sharp intake of breath against his mouth and the way Jensen’s back bows to press up into him.

Jensen slides an arm around Jared’s neck, pulling Jared’s mouth hard against his with the bend of his elbow. And Jensen’s mouth is open wide and they kiss hungry, and Jared really starts to ache, and the blood starts to rush anxiously because their thighs are slotting into place, one between the other then another then the other, and Jensen says fuck, I am too tired for this, and Jared laughs because, yeah, honestly.

But he presses his hips into Jensen anyway, rutting against him once and twice, and Jensen makes a harsh gasping sound with his mouth against Jared’s ear, says, Jesus it’s been a while, and that makes Jared press against him harder, and turn his face to suck a mark just below Jensen’s jaw, and then run his teeth over it so that Jensen shakes against him.

And they are moving together unconsciously, without even trying, the rhythm has found itself and they just keep kissing, and their bodies do the rest, until they are panting into each others’ necks and Jared says I really fucking want this, so Jensen slides a trembling hand into Jared’s boxers and against his dick, his other fist gripping tight in Jared’s hair. He rolls his hips in time with the motion of his hand and Jared follows along until he can’t anymore because he is hissing and saying fuck, fuck, ah, fuck, until he tightens up, curls his toes and comes.

He takes a half second to catch his breath and re-orient, but fights the heaviness that pulls him down to sleep and rolls a palm over the front of Jensen’s boxers and under. Jensen keens, wordless, just air rushing into his lungs and tripping over his vocal chords on the way out.

Jared gets him off slow, makes him sweat for it, until Jensen is leaving fingerprints in Jared’s biceps, fucking his fist, and begging for it. And then Jensen is saying, Now, now, now and Jared gets the idea and goes all out, hard and fast, and Jensen cries out, muscles bunching, back arching, and he’s saying fuck, fuck, ah, fuck, too, and he pulls himself up against Jared and comes on Jared’s stomach.

While Jensen is shaking and slipping into that yawn of post-orgasm space, Jared shucks his tee shirt and cleans them quickly before sliding back under the sheets and pulling Jensen into his side.

“Wasn’t too tired,” Jensen murmurs.

Jared laughs. “I knew you weren’t.”

“Kiss me,” Jensen says softly.

And Jared says, “All right,” and they’re up for another hour.

Jensen is breathing hard, weakly pressing his face into the side of Jared’s neck when he grits out, “Well, when I said ‘kiss me,’” against sweaty, bruising skin.

And Jared is laughing, hands brushing through Jensen’s mussed hair, on his elbows staring down into Jensen’s face, positively dying to kiss him again, and this is how it is supposed to feel.




Jared is awake early the next morning, which is the habit he has that most reminds him he is a dog owner.

He stretches in the sun and rolls over in his bed to face Jensen, still full-on asleep. He edges closer on the pillow, slips an arm around Jensen’s waist. Jared noses at him lightly, nips at his jaw, draws a smile to the softness of his face.

Jensen murmurs, mornin’, and rolls to pull Jared against him. He slips a leg over Jared’s hip and sighs, says, kiss me, and Jared thinks he will always heat at the sound of Jensen demanding to be kissed.

Sloppy lazy kisses lead slowly into Jensen’s face pressed against Jared’s neck. Jared lies there for a minute, warm and tingling from head to foot, before he realizes Jensen’s on his way back to sleep. He looks at the clock and it’s only 7:30; Jensen has plenty of time.

“I’m getting up,” Jared says, lips against the warm shell of Jensen’s ear.

“’m not,” Jensen says, brushing the stubble of his chin against the side of Jared’s face, nuzzling, Jared thinks.

“Lemme go,” Jared continues, tapping lightly at the arms locked around his shoulders.

“Hm, no.”

“I gotta take care of the beasts, and then we can stay in bed all day.”

Jensen opens his eyes then, smiles up at Jared like he can’t wait to have all day. He loosens his grip in consent, but says, “One more.”

And Jared laughs, eyes on Jensen’s as he gives a soft brush of their lips. He moves to slip away but the arms around him tighten.

“Nope,” Jensen says sleepily, lifting his chin in defiance. “A real one.”

“Oh, a real one,” Jared says like he suddenly understands. He makes a show of warming up, positioning himself back over Jensen, squaring his shoulders, taking Jensen’s face easily between two warm palms. His thumbs run over Jensen’s jaw and asks, “Like this, you fucking sap?”

And Jensen smiles bright and says, “Exactly like this.”

So Jared leans in slow, gives a soft invite of a kiss, the barest edge of teeth running against Jensen’s lip, before nudging their mouths apart with a gentle tongue. Jensen sighs into him, angles his head, trails fingertips up Jared’s back until Jared shudders.

When Jared pulls back, he looks to Jensen expectantly, leaning on his forearms and brushing thumbs over Jensen’s forehead.

And Jensen gives a smile that curls Jared’s toes, and he says, “Perfect.”




So it’s eight o’clock and Jared’s kneeling in the cool damp grass, keeping an eye on his dogs as they fight and chase each other in the morning dew and soft light. They disappear into the woods and reappear at the sound of his sharp whistling, bowl him over, and run off again.

He thinks, this is his family; these two dogs, that sleeping figure in his bed. They have the love he craves.

The air is dry and brisk, a cool breeze against his sweatshirt, and the grass feels tough against his palms. He is thinking, this is a beautiful, beautiful morning while the sun warms his face and the top of his head, giving a slant to the yard with its long pink rays.

When his phone rings in his pocket, he imagines it is Jensen while he fumbles for it. Your whistling is keeping me awake, cut it out.

It’s Sandy. Jared stares at the display, and it takes all his strength to answer the phone, because he doesn’t want to do this now. Things are too right, he feels too good, the morning is too nice. He doesn’t want to be talked out of all of this right now.

He answers the phone, because he promised her.

“How are you, Jared?” she asks tentatively, like she’s sorry she’s calling. But she knows him; knows that he’s up and alone and greeting the day.

He tells her he’s good; briefly about getting a new dog, and being murdered by the shooting schedule. Then he asks why she really called, and she sighs.

“I just wanted to say. I understand, alright? And I have been hating you, hating you so much. Hating that you’re right. I know you, okay? And I know you were telling the truth. I am not enough for you, and that fucking hurts, it hurts something awful.”

“Sandy,” he says helplessly.

“Just listen, Jared. It’s taken every ounce of me to figure this out, so just listen. I don’t want you. You need too much from me. You want stars in my eyes, and hearts around my head, you want me to swoon when you walk through the door. And I love you, but I can’t do it, Jared. I don’t feel like that.”

“I never meant to ask so much of you,” he says. “I just can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t, idiot. I don’t think you even realized what you were looking for until we said the big “M” word, you know? Forever’s a long time, I get it. You wanna find someone who greets you at the door every day, jumps up on you, licks your face …”

And Jared busts into laughter, and there are definitely tears in his eyes and his voice, because leave it to Sandy to understand exactly what he needs, and completely accept that it’s as insane and ridiculous as he feels it is.

She is laughing with him, and it’s sad. “Shit, Jared. I don’t know if I can give anybody what you’re asking for. It makes me hate you, makes me jealous of you. When you find someone that’s gonna love you the way you love them, I think the world is going to end.”

“I hope it does, Sandy. Then I’ll know I’m doing it right.”

She ends off with call me, and he will, when he’s ready. He thinks, if ending a relationship like they had could go that well, then anything is possible. He thinks Sandy is the most beautiful, graceful woman he has ever had the pleasure of knowing.

He calls the dogs back to him and the three of them head inside. He makes half-formed plans for a late breakfast as he fills their food bowls. He goes to the doorway of the bedroom and leans a hip against the frame, arms crossed, a smile on his face.

Jensen is spread out in the middle of the bed like he already owns it, on his belly with his limbs in all directions and his face mashed into Jared’s pillow. His mouth is open and he is totally snoring.

The sight really drives Jared wild. It is something new, but it comes with the butterflies that have been flapping around in his stomach since their first words exchanged, and that first moment when they looked at each other just a second too long, and Jared had felt his cheeks warm as he quickly looked away and nodded to the meeting room they were supposed to be in.

Jensen has always made Jared excited, has always invited Jared to be himself, and has accepted every inch of Jared that he has extended. Jensen has been afraid, but has always loved Jared in his own quiet way, and Jared has never been more grateful to anyone.

He stares for a minute longer, and then he takes a few steps back. He uses the space for a couple of quick sprints and launches himself up onto the bed, arms and legs landing on either side of Jensen, jostling him awake with a flutter of bed linens and loud cursing. The sudden movement gets the dogs barking and they leap up onto the bed, prancing and stepping on them both, licking faces and ears and hands.

And Jensen is just grinning, shifting to roll onto his back and stare up at Jared and shove at the dogs.

“Asshole,” he says affectionately, shoving Harley’s face into his armpit.

“Welcome to the rest of your life,” Jared responds teasingly, giving Jackson a noogie.

“Can’t wait,” Jensen says, pulling Jared down by the back of his head. They kiss while the dogs dance around them, and then Jensen pulls away fast and shoves his tongue in Jared’s ear.

Jared shoves off quick, yelping in disgust, and Jensen takes the opportunity to shoot out of bed, pushing Jared over and laughing a crazy laugh, taking off through the house and out the back door with the dogs on his heels. Jared leaps up and chases him out through the cold backyard, tackles him in the grass, thinking, Jensen’s in love with me. This is Jensen in love.

Jensen is laughing, out of breath, and it makes Jared’s heart pound. He kisses Jensen and never wants to stop. When he pulls off, moves to get them up and back to the house, Jensen uses the leverage to shove Jared and pin him back down into the grass, mouth on Jared’s and he isn’t done here yet. And Jared thinks, this is what I needed, this is forever, this is why I gave it all up.

“You love me,” Jared whispers, grinning hard.

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees mildly, considering. “But I’m holding back.”

And Jared goes absolutely mad inside, kisses Jensen fierce, loves him crazy, says, “Give it all to me.”

“Only if you’re ready for it,” Jensen warns, smirking, leaning in with a tease in his eyes. But Jared sees the truth there, the hesitation that’s a bad habit Jensen’s been holding onto since Richardson.

“Honest to god, Jen,” Jared says. “I’ve been waiting my whole life, I think.”

And when Jensen doesn’t have a snappy comeback, when he lets himself absorb the meaning of what Jared’s saying, he goes loose and soft, staring at Jared with bright eyes like he can’t believe what’s being said. Jared sees in Jensen’s eyes the second he lets it happen; the second Jensen lets himself really feel what he feels for Jared. His gaze is full of the bits of a million moments spent together, where they were building what is coming together right now.

“You love me too,” Jensen says finally, with a little bit of awe, and Jared nods with his face in Jensen’s hair. “More than anyone else,” Jensen continues, and Jared nods again.

“I’d write an ode to it,” Jared says seriously.

“More than anyone?”

“Anyone. I’ll be the guy who puts it on the screen at the ball game.”

“You’d write an ode? Do you even write?”

“I’ll write it in the sky.”

“The whole ode?”

“I’ll write it on the moon.”

“Jared.”

“I’ll write it all over your body.”

Jensen is laughing, clutching at Jared, starting to squirm with embarrassment. But he is smiling the type of smile that says he really believes it. He asks, “Are we gonna be this lame all the time? I’m starting to feel gross from all the cheese.”

Jared raises an eyebrow, shrugs, climbs up off Jensen and to his feet. “Hey, if it’s too much for you,” he says, and turns to head back the house.

He makes it about four steps before he feels the entire weight of Jensen slam into his back with enough force to knock them both back to the grass. He laughs until his sides ache, and Jensen is lying across his back, shaking with it.

“Oh baby,” Jared says. “You know what I like, and you love it. Just deal with it.”

Jensen shifts so that his head is between Jared’s shoulder blades, looking up at the sky. He slaps Jared’s ass, sighs, lets out the last notes of his laughter, and says, “Let’s just stay out here a while.”

Jared grins, rests his cheek against a forearm and stares out across the yard. He likes the weight of Jensen on his back, likes to see his dogs wrestling at the mouth of the woods, likes the mountains on the horizon beyond. He is tired and sore from work, and his heart hurts for Sandy, but he feels some warm feeling sloshing around inside and just lets it take over.

“We can stay here long as you want,” Jared says.