Leap of Faith - Chapter 33
Apr. 7th, 2010 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
something_rareTitle: Leap of Faith
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki (eventually), Mentions of Jensen/OMC, Jared/OMC and Others
Other Characters: Tom Welling, Chris Kane, Danneel Harris, Misha Collins
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4,398
Disclaimer: 100% Pure Fiction
Note: None of this would be possible and readable without my awesome beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigj52 . I learn from you everyday.
Summary: AU / Everybody has a dream. Some people make their dreams come true. Some just let their life slip by thinking about it.
Chapter 33:
They say that you don’t really get to see what somebody is really like until you've actually lived with them. That was exactly Chris was going through. Living with Misha was more or less smooth sailing, but they had one major issue: Personal space. Although Misha’s apartment was big enough, they were still stepping over each other, and not in the way they had hoped for. It had started as a few minor irritations, like the way Misha would pick up after Chris. Chris would drop a towel on top of the hamper, and two seconds later Misha would be right behind him throwing it in. It steadily got worse, to the point where Misha was actually color coding and categorizing Chris’s clothes.
"How you find anything is beyond me," was Misha’s only comment.
After living like that for two months, Chris was slowly reaching boiling point, and he decided to call Misha on it as he watched him meticulously scrub a glass that Chris had just washed moments earlier.
"Are my dishwashing skills not good enough for you?" Chris threw out, hoping that he would reel in a satisfactory answer. Misha looked up from what he was doing and flashed Chris a strained smile.
"Of course not, Chris. It's just that I noticed that there was no soap on the sponge when you washed the glass, and you weren't exactly drinking water. You know I can't stand the smell of stale beer, and if you don't wash the glasses thoroughly, the smell will always be there."
Chris laughed at Misha’s precise explanation, right down to the last detail.
"You're so fucking uptight, Misha. Relax, man. So what if a glass smells like beer? We'll get a new one. And another thing, what's up with you ironing all my shirts?"
"I just thought you'd prefer them crisp, rather than crushed. It sure looks better when you're neat, sexier, too," Misha added, sending Chris a wink. To Chris, Misha seemed to be getting more aggressive in their relationship, making bolder moves on him in private, and a lot more in public. It was not that Chris had not enjoyed it, but it wasn't Misha. It was as if their roles in the relationship were changed. Chris seemed to be settling into the partner role, being more considerate of what time he came home, calling just to say, 'I love you', when the mood struck him, and making an attempt to be romantic by cooking without burning down the house. But, for every Misha-like thing that Chris did, Misha countered them with a Chris moment. It started with the public fondling, but then escalated to things like Misha wanting to take over Chris by controlling what Chris wore and what he ate. To Chris, the glass issue was just another prime example of how Misha had changed within those few months they had moved in together.
"Misha, not to be a jerk or anything but I like the way I look in my crushed shirts and I like my socks all mixed up and I like drinking beer from a glass and having the smell linger."
What Chris said, for a moment, seemed to bring forth no response from Misha, but then he spoke, "Fine. If you want to dress like a wilted vegetable, go ahead. I was just trying to help. Since we're not trying to be jerks, or anything, I want to let you know that I'd appreciate it if you'd cap the toothpaste when you're finished with it, put away your shoes when you get in, and not put a glass down on the furniture without a coaster," Misha’s voiced sounded strained as if he was holding back.
"I'm a grown man, Misha, and I don't need you to be acting like my mother. If I want to leave my fucking clothes around, and my shoes out, then I can."
"Well, not in my house, you can't. I pay the mortgage here, and I think I at least deserve some level of respect from you, Chris. I will put up with a lot of shit from you, but not this blatant disrespect of my home, which I have been more than generous in opening up to you," At the end of his little tirade Misha let out a deep breath, and his eyes refused to meet Chris’s.
"Is that how you really feel now?" Chris questioned, “That I'm some sort of leech? That I'm here to use you? And another thing, I thought this was our home. I was under the distinct impression when I moved in here, that we were going to be in this as equal partners. As I remembered, you told me not to worry about the mortgage until I could find a steady job,-"
"Which you haven't," Misha piped in. It was as if something in Chris finally snapped. He had had enough. He got up from his chair and walked away from Misha into his bedroom. Chris flung open the closets with so much ferocity that the door almost came off its hinges, and pulled a suitcase down from the top shelf. He began throwing clothes into it, without much thought, and as it filled up quickly, his thoughts reverted to the next issue. Where would he go?
"What are you doing?" Misha’s voice broke Chris out of his thoughts for a moment, and he turned to face Misha. Misha leaned against the door, and his eyes darted back and forth between Chris and the suitcase on the bed.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Chris spat, not caring if he was the cause of the hurt expression that adorned Misha’s face.
"Come on, Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean all the things that I said in there. It's just that this has been hard on me, too. I'm not used to all of this, especially from you," Misha’s voice sounded somber, and for a split second, Chris was tempted to throw himself into Misha’s arms, but he didn't.
"It's not gonna work out, Misha. I can see it your eyes, and I can hear it in your voice."
"It was just a stupid argument, Chris. It meant nothing."
Chris sighed, "Just because this is the first time we've argued about this, it doesn't mean that it hasn't been a problem. This has been brewing below the surface for a damn long time. The glass was just the thing that finally brought it to the surface."
"So you're just gonna leave? Walk away from everything we've spent months building up? Don't you love me, Chris?"
Chris ran his hand through his hair, and turned away from Misha, "Love is not enough, Misha. We're just way too different. I like to be messy, you like to be neat. I like beer, you like water. There's just not enough holding us together."
"Well, I'll change," Misha finally said. The desperation in his voice was clear as day, and Chris was afraid to turn around to face him, for fear that he would falter in his decision to leave.
"Just stop it, Misha. You don't need to change. OK? I don't either. We're just not compatible," And with that, Chris closed his suitcase, picked it up, and walked past Misha to the front door. He stopped and turned around at the sound of Misha’s voice.
"I don't care, Chris! Please, I'm sorry I said the things I said. I'm sorry I am the way I am. I tried to change, I really did, but it's like everything I try to do to get you to love me backfires. I thought, maybe if I tried to be more like your type, I could make you stay."
Misha’s last statement caught Chris attention, big time. "Is that where all this aggression is coming from?”
"Well, uh, yeah. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that who you wanted me to be?"
"No. No! If that was what I wanted, Misha, I would have gone out and found it. I never wanted you to change. How could you even think that?"
Misha didn't answer immediately, but instead cast his eyes downward.
"I chose you, Misha,-" Chris started and stopped as Misha intervened.
"Then, if I'm such a good choice, why are you leaving me? I obviously did something wrong if you'd rather walk out than work it out," Misha said in a hushed whisper that sent chills down Chris’s spine.
"It's not you, Misha. It's just that I think we need some space away from each other. We're falling apart at the seams here."
"And you think leaving will help the situation any? You think that's the answer to everything," and in a more somber tone he added, "You think walking away will solve anything? Please, Chris, don't do this to us. Please, I'm begging you."
Against his better judgment, Chris walked over to Misha, and allowed Misha to throw himself into his outstretched arms. Misha held on to Chris as if his life depended on it, and once again begged Chris not to go.
"Something has to change, Misha. We can't keep living like this."
"I know," he whispered, "I know."
"I don't want to break up."
They had come too far to turn back now and Chris had invested so much emotion into them, that to turn back now, without a fight, would have been a travesty.
"Neither do I, but I don't know how to change things, how to make them better."
"We need help," Chris stated, plainly. They needed outside help, and Chris found that he wasn't ashamed to admit that they couldn't do it on their own.
"We can see a therapist over at the hospital."
"Fine," Chris whispered, leaning into Misha even more, and kissing the top of his forehead. Relief was running through Chris at that very moment, for even though he was more than prepared to walk out, he was more than happy that Misha had asked him to stay, giving them a chance to get the help they so desperately needed. Just holding Misha in his arms, cradling him like a baby, it made Chris realize how much Misha had come to mean to him, and how much the thought of losing Misha sent an unnerving pain to his chest.
"Promise me you won't leave me tonight, please, Chris, promise," Misha looked up at Chris and awaited a response.
"I promise," were Chris’s only words before he lifted Misha’s lips to his and kissed him with all the passion he possessed, knowing that that would get the message across clearer than any words ever could.
_______________________________
Jensen watched from his spot in the corner as Jared took his first steps unaided, and like a proud father, he couldn't contain the tears that he felt falling from his eyes. They had been waiting for that moment, and Jared had been working towards it, for over a year and finally, there was something to show for it. It was just a few steps but to Jensen, it was a few steps towards the road to recovery and towards their newfound life, together. When Jared saw Jensen watching him, he sent a small smile his way, along with a wink. Jensen smiled back and mouthed the words `love you' just as the therapist turned around to face him.
"Enough cooing you guys. Jared, you're doing great but you better pay attention to what you're doing rather than sending kisses over to Casanova there."
Jared looked down at her innocently, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
"What?" Jared asked, "I'm not doing a damn thing." He could have almost gotten away with it, too, except for that smirk that seemed to have permanently pasted itself onto his handsome face.
"Uh-huh. Just keep moving," she chanted, looking over at Jensen and shaking her head, a smile plaguing the corners of her mouth.
Jensen watched as Jared took two more steps before grabbing onto the bar for support and letting out an exasperated breath. The therapist walked over to where he stood and held his waist.
"You OK, Jared?" she asked.
"Yeah, just seemed to lose feeling in my legs all of a sudden. I think I need a break."
"OK, let me get your chair," And while she walked over to retrieve it from its place in the corner, Jensen walked over to Jared.
"I can't believe it," Jared said, just before leaning slightly forward and kissing Jensen on the lips. Jensen could not help but get lost in the moment and kiss him back. When they pulled apart, Jared began to tell Jensen and the therapist how he was feeling.
"I can't even put into words how I feel right now. I never thought that I'd be able to come this far."
"Didn't I tell you all those tedious exercises would pay off, Jared? All of the time you've spent working out, sweating, dealing with the discomfort, the pain, didn't I tell you it would be worth it someday?"
Jared looked at his therapist as he eased into the chair and smiled.
"I didn't think that it would feel like this...I mean I knew that you said there was a chance, but wow...I never expected this. I feel like I'm ready to just can this contraption and walk out of here on my own, you know."
"Yeah, I know Jared," she started, "but remember, this is just a first step. We still have a long way to go but that attitude of yours is going to make it easier to get there. You should be proud of yourself, Jared."
With that, she leaned over Jared and kissed his cheek.
"Well, I've got another patient so I've got to fly; I'll see you on Thursday. OK?"
"Ok," Jared replied. Jensen watched as she walked over to Jared and whispered something in his ear. They both then turned to look at Jensen. She then walked out, that grin still in place.
When Jensen was sure she was out of earshot, he asked Jared about it. "What was that all about?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"So you're not going to tell me," Jensen prodded.
"There's nothing to tell, babe."
By the look on Jared’s face, Jensen knew that he was lying. He could also tell from that look that Jared was playing him, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him, but Jensen was not going to make it easy for him.
"Fine. Well, I guess I won't tell you the good news I got today,” The pout that instantly appeared on Jared’s face told Jensen that Jared was on to him.
"So, it's gonna be like that?" Jared asked in mock anger, “You are not gonna let me in on your little piece of news."
"Nope. Inside news."
"That's cold, Jensen, real cold," With that Jared tried his best to look as hurt as possible.
"Don't even try it, Jared. I'm not falling for that pathetic victim bit. You've gotta give to get, so give me a little and you'll get a little," Jared seemed to take a long time to think it over and finally came back with an answer.
"All right. Alright, you got me. But if you wanna know what's up, you have to close your eyes."
"Why?" Jensen questioned.
"Because you won't appreciate this with your eyes opened, OK?"
"OK," Jensen conceded and closed his eyes. He felt Jared take his wrist and ever so slowly lead it to his chest.
"Big surprise," Jensen stated sarcastically. Of course Jared’s chest had gotten bigger but Jensen had known that, he had felt that happening over the past several months.
"Just wait," was Jared’s reply, and with that, he drew Jensen’s hand along his clothed chest, down to his abs and then into his lap, where Jensen felt something that he found hard to believe.
"Oh my God," Jensen whispered, slowly opening his eyes and looking at what his hand had already grasped, "When?" Jensen started, as Jared pulled him into his lap and onto his budding erection.
"It's been happening infrequently for the past couple of days. It comes and goes but today is the first time it's been like this. The therapist thinks it probably came back with the feeling in my legs," Jared then took a deep breath and in a deeper, sexier tone of voice he said, "Feels good, doesn't it, baby?"
If Jensen thought they could get away with doing it right there in the therapy room, he would have suggested it. But they both knew that soon the therapist would be back, patient in tow.
"Yeah, it does. I can't wait to get you home," Jensen whispered huskily, leaning into Jared more and kissing him with all that he had.
"I love you," Jared whispered, taking Jensen’s hand in his and squeezing it. When Jensen looked into his eyes, the intensity of the desire and love that he saw gave Jensen a warm feeling inside, and it reminded Jensen of their first few blissful weeks together.
"I love you, too," Jensen whispered back, barely able to keep his emotions in check. It was what they had spent months working towards: That peaceful equilibrium. As Jensen stood up and looked down at Jared looking up at him, a smile plastered over his face, Jensen couldn't help but thank God for giving him the strength it took to stand by Jared.
"How fast do you think we can make it home?" Jared asked with a hint of mischief etched into his voice. Jensen picked up on it immediately and grabbed the back of his chair and wheeled it out of the room as fast as he could, not wanting to waste another minute in that place, not when they had more pressing matters to handle. All thoughts of what they had bargained for fled from Jensen’s head.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki (eventually), Mentions of Jensen/OMC, Jared/OMC and Others
Other Characters: Tom Welling, Chris Kane, Danneel Harris, Misha Collins
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4,398
Disclaimer: 100% Pure Fiction
Note: None of this would be possible and readable without my awesome beta,
bigj52 . I learn from you everyday.Summary: AU / Everybody has a dream. Some people make their dreams come true. Some just let their life slip by thinking about it.
Chapter 33:
They say that you don’t really get to see what somebody is really like until you've actually lived with them. That was exactly Chris was going through. Living with Misha was more or less smooth sailing, but they had one major issue: Personal space. Although Misha’s apartment was big enough, they were still stepping over each other, and not in the way they had hoped for. It had started as a few minor irritations, like the way Misha would pick up after Chris. Chris would drop a towel on top of the hamper, and two seconds later Misha would be right behind him throwing it in. It steadily got worse, to the point where Misha was actually color coding and categorizing Chris’s clothes.
"How you find anything is beyond me," was Misha’s only comment.
After living like that for two months, Chris was slowly reaching boiling point, and he decided to call Misha on it as he watched him meticulously scrub a glass that Chris had just washed moments earlier.
"Are my dishwashing skills not good enough for you?" Chris threw out, hoping that he would reel in a satisfactory answer. Misha looked up from what he was doing and flashed Chris a strained smile.
"Of course not, Chris. It's just that I noticed that there was no soap on the sponge when you washed the glass, and you weren't exactly drinking water. You know I can't stand the smell of stale beer, and if you don't wash the glasses thoroughly, the smell will always be there."
Chris laughed at Misha’s precise explanation, right down to the last detail.
"You're so fucking uptight, Misha. Relax, man. So what if a glass smells like beer? We'll get a new one. And another thing, what's up with you ironing all my shirts?"
"I just thought you'd prefer them crisp, rather than crushed. It sure looks better when you're neat, sexier, too," Misha added, sending Chris a wink. To Chris, Misha seemed to be getting more aggressive in their relationship, making bolder moves on him in private, and a lot more in public. It was not that Chris had not enjoyed it, but it wasn't Misha. It was as if their roles in the relationship were changed. Chris seemed to be settling into the partner role, being more considerate of what time he came home, calling just to say, 'I love you', when the mood struck him, and making an attempt to be romantic by cooking without burning down the house. But, for every Misha-like thing that Chris did, Misha countered them with a Chris moment. It started with the public fondling, but then escalated to things like Misha wanting to take over Chris by controlling what Chris wore and what he ate. To Chris, the glass issue was just another prime example of how Misha had changed within those few months they had moved in together.
"Misha, not to be a jerk or anything but I like the way I look in my crushed shirts and I like my socks all mixed up and I like drinking beer from a glass and having the smell linger."
What Chris said, for a moment, seemed to bring forth no response from Misha, but then he spoke, "Fine. If you want to dress like a wilted vegetable, go ahead. I was just trying to help. Since we're not trying to be jerks, or anything, I want to let you know that I'd appreciate it if you'd cap the toothpaste when you're finished with it, put away your shoes when you get in, and not put a glass down on the furniture without a coaster," Misha’s voiced sounded strained as if he was holding back.
"I'm a grown man, Misha, and I don't need you to be acting like my mother. If I want to leave my fucking clothes around, and my shoes out, then I can."
"Well, not in my house, you can't. I pay the mortgage here, and I think I at least deserve some level of respect from you, Chris. I will put up with a lot of shit from you, but not this blatant disrespect of my home, which I have been more than generous in opening up to you," At the end of his little tirade Misha let out a deep breath, and his eyes refused to meet Chris’s.
"Is that how you really feel now?" Chris questioned, “That I'm some sort of leech? That I'm here to use you? And another thing, I thought this was our home. I was under the distinct impression when I moved in here, that we were going to be in this as equal partners. As I remembered, you told me not to worry about the mortgage until I could find a steady job,-"
"Which you haven't," Misha piped in. It was as if something in Chris finally snapped. He had had enough. He got up from his chair and walked away from Misha into his bedroom. Chris flung open the closets with so much ferocity that the door almost came off its hinges, and pulled a suitcase down from the top shelf. He began throwing clothes into it, without much thought, and as it filled up quickly, his thoughts reverted to the next issue. Where would he go?
"What are you doing?" Misha’s voice broke Chris out of his thoughts for a moment, and he turned to face Misha. Misha leaned against the door, and his eyes darted back and forth between Chris and the suitcase on the bed.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Chris spat, not caring if he was the cause of the hurt expression that adorned Misha’s face.
"Come on, Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean all the things that I said in there. It's just that this has been hard on me, too. I'm not used to all of this, especially from you," Misha’s voice sounded somber, and for a split second, Chris was tempted to throw himself into Misha’s arms, but he didn't.
"It's not gonna work out, Misha. I can see it your eyes, and I can hear it in your voice."
"It was just a stupid argument, Chris. It meant nothing."
Chris sighed, "Just because this is the first time we've argued about this, it doesn't mean that it hasn't been a problem. This has been brewing below the surface for a damn long time. The glass was just the thing that finally brought it to the surface."
"So you're just gonna leave? Walk away from everything we've spent months building up? Don't you love me, Chris?"
Chris ran his hand through his hair, and turned away from Misha, "Love is not enough, Misha. We're just way too different. I like to be messy, you like to be neat. I like beer, you like water. There's just not enough holding us together."
"Well, I'll change," Misha finally said. The desperation in his voice was clear as day, and Chris was afraid to turn around to face him, for fear that he would falter in his decision to leave.
"Just stop it, Misha. You don't need to change. OK? I don't either. We're just not compatible," And with that, Chris closed his suitcase, picked it up, and walked past Misha to the front door. He stopped and turned around at the sound of Misha’s voice.
"I don't care, Chris! Please, I'm sorry I said the things I said. I'm sorry I am the way I am. I tried to change, I really did, but it's like everything I try to do to get you to love me backfires. I thought, maybe if I tried to be more like your type, I could make you stay."
Misha’s last statement caught Chris attention, big time. "Is that where all this aggression is coming from?”
"Well, uh, yeah. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that who you wanted me to be?"
"No. No! If that was what I wanted, Misha, I would have gone out and found it. I never wanted you to change. How could you even think that?"
Misha didn't answer immediately, but instead cast his eyes downward.
"I chose you, Misha,-" Chris started and stopped as Misha intervened.
"Then, if I'm such a good choice, why are you leaving me? I obviously did something wrong if you'd rather walk out than work it out," Misha said in a hushed whisper that sent chills down Chris’s spine.
"It's not you, Misha. It's just that I think we need some space away from each other. We're falling apart at the seams here."
"And you think leaving will help the situation any? You think that's the answer to everything," and in a more somber tone he added, "You think walking away will solve anything? Please, Chris, don't do this to us. Please, I'm begging you."
Against his better judgment, Chris walked over to Misha, and allowed Misha to throw himself into his outstretched arms. Misha held on to Chris as if his life depended on it, and once again begged Chris not to go.
"Something has to change, Misha. We can't keep living like this."
"I know," he whispered, "I know."
"I don't want to break up."
They had come too far to turn back now and Chris had invested so much emotion into them, that to turn back now, without a fight, would have been a travesty.
"Neither do I, but I don't know how to change things, how to make them better."
"We need help," Chris stated, plainly. They needed outside help, and Chris found that he wasn't ashamed to admit that they couldn't do it on their own.
"We can see a therapist over at the hospital."
"Fine," Chris whispered, leaning into Misha even more, and kissing the top of his forehead. Relief was running through Chris at that very moment, for even though he was more than prepared to walk out, he was more than happy that Misha had asked him to stay, giving them a chance to get the help they so desperately needed. Just holding Misha in his arms, cradling him like a baby, it made Chris realize how much Misha had come to mean to him, and how much the thought of losing Misha sent an unnerving pain to his chest.
"Promise me you won't leave me tonight, please, Chris, promise," Misha looked up at Chris and awaited a response.
"I promise," were Chris’s only words before he lifted Misha’s lips to his and kissed him with all the passion he possessed, knowing that that would get the message across clearer than any words ever could.
_______________________________
Jensen watched from his spot in the corner as Jared took his first steps unaided, and like a proud father, he couldn't contain the tears that he felt falling from his eyes. They had been waiting for that moment, and Jared had been working towards it, for over a year and finally, there was something to show for it. It was just a few steps but to Jensen, it was a few steps towards the road to recovery and towards their newfound life, together. When Jared saw Jensen watching him, he sent a small smile his way, along with a wink. Jensen smiled back and mouthed the words `love you' just as the therapist turned around to face him.
"Enough cooing you guys. Jared, you're doing great but you better pay attention to what you're doing rather than sending kisses over to Casanova there."
Jared looked down at her innocently, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
"What?" Jared asked, "I'm not doing a damn thing." He could have almost gotten away with it, too, except for that smirk that seemed to have permanently pasted itself onto his handsome face.
"Uh-huh. Just keep moving," she chanted, looking over at Jensen and shaking her head, a smile plaguing the corners of her mouth.
Jensen watched as Jared took two more steps before grabbing onto the bar for support and letting out an exasperated breath. The therapist walked over to where he stood and held his waist.
"You OK, Jared?" she asked.
"Yeah, just seemed to lose feeling in my legs all of a sudden. I think I need a break."
"OK, let me get your chair," And while she walked over to retrieve it from its place in the corner, Jensen walked over to Jared.
"I can't believe it," Jared said, just before leaning slightly forward and kissing Jensen on the lips. Jensen could not help but get lost in the moment and kiss him back. When they pulled apart, Jared began to tell Jensen and the therapist how he was feeling.
"I can't even put into words how I feel right now. I never thought that I'd be able to come this far."
"Didn't I tell you all those tedious exercises would pay off, Jared? All of the time you've spent working out, sweating, dealing with the discomfort, the pain, didn't I tell you it would be worth it someday?"
Jared looked at his therapist as he eased into the chair and smiled.
"I didn't think that it would feel like this...I mean I knew that you said there was a chance, but wow...I never expected this. I feel like I'm ready to just can this contraption and walk out of here on my own, you know."
"Yeah, I know Jared," she started, "but remember, this is just a first step. We still have a long way to go but that attitude of yours is going to make it easier to get there. You should be proud of yourself, Jared."
With that, she leaned over Jared and kissed his cheek.
"Well, I've got another patient so I've got to fly; I'll see you on Thursday. OK?"
"Ok," Jared replied. Jensen watched as she walked over to Jared and whispered something in his ear. They both then turned to look at Jensen. She then walked out, that grin still in place.
When Jensen was sure she was out of earshot, he asked Jared about it. "What was that all about?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"So you're not going to tell me," Jensen prodded.
"There's nothing to tell, babe."
By the look on Jared’s face, Jensen knew that he was lying. He could also tell from that look that Jared was playing him, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him, but Jensen was not going to make it easy for him.
"Fine. Well, I guess I won't tell you the good news I got today,” The pout that instantly appeared on Jared’s face told Jensen that Jared was on to him.
"So, it's gonna be like that?" Jared asked in mock anger, “You are not gonna let me in on your little piece of news."
"Nope. Inside news."
"That's cold, Jensen, real cold," With that Jared tried his best to look as hurt as possible.
"Don't even try it, Jared. I'm not falling for that pathetic victim bit. You've gotta give to get, so give me a little and you'll get a little," Jared seemed to take a long time to think it over and finally came back with an answer.
"All right. Alright, you got me. But if you wanna know what's up, you have to close your eyes."
"Why?" Jensen questioned.
"Because you won't appreciate this with your eyes opened, OK?"
"OK," Jensen conceded and closed his eyes. He felt Jared take his wrist and ever so slowly lead it to his chest.
"Big surprise," Jensen stated sarcastically. Of course Jared’s chest had gotten bigger but Jensen had known that, he had felt that happening over the past several months.
"Just wait," was Jared’s reply, and with that, he drew Jensen’s hand along his clothed chest, down to his abs and then into his lap, where Jensen felt something that he found hard to believe.
"Oh my God," Jensen whispered, slowly opening his eyes and looking at what his hand had already grasped, "When?" Jensen started, as Jared pulled him into his lap and onto his budding erection.
"It's been happening infrequently for the past couple of days. It comes and goes but today is the first time it's been like this. The therapist thinks it probably came back with the feeling in my legs," Jared then took a deep breath and in a deeper, sexier tone of voice he said, "Feels good, doesn't it, baby?"
If Jensen thought they could get away with doing it right there in the therapy room, he would have suggested it. But they both knew that soon the therapist would be back, patient in tow.
"Yeah, it does. I can't wait to get you home," Jensen whispered huskily, leaning into Jared more and kissing him with all that he had.
"I love you," Jared whispered, taking Jensen’s hand in his and squeezing it. When Jensen looked into his eyes, the intensity of the desire and love that he saw gave Jensen a warm feeling inside, and it reminded Jensen of their first few blissful weeks together.
"I love you, too," Jensen whispered back, barely able to keep his emotions in check. It was what they had spent months working towards: That peaceful equilibrium. As Jensen stood up and looked down at Jared looking up at him, a smile plastered over his face, Jensen couldn't help but thank God for giving him the strength it took to stand by Jared.
"How fast do you think we can make it home?" Jared asked with a hint of mischief etched into his voice. Jensen picked up on it immediately and grabbed the back of his chair and wheeled it out of the room as fast as he could, not wanting to waste another minute in that place, not when they had more pressing matters to handle. All thoughts of what they had bargained for fled from Jensen’s head.
Chapter Thirty-Four
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 03:53 pm (UTC)Aww, *hugs* I am gonna miss your comments too. Thank you for sticking around through this journey. :*
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 08:00 pm (UTC)Only 2 more chapters left :( That's so sad!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 08:26 pm (UTC)That's a happy chapter! What a joy to read!
Love, Robin
no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-08 05:51 am (UTC)Is that a slutty, non-romantic thing to say?
no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 03:50 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading and for the comment. ; )