The happy feeling in Jensen’s chest evaporates, just like that. Steve. Steve who doesn’t like him. Steve who knows way more about him than he is comfortable with because Chris f*cking told the guy. Steve who calls Chris baby, who kisses and f*cks him on the couch, or, more likely, now that Jensen has his own room to go to, in Chris’s bed. f*cking Steve.
Chris seems oblivious to Jensen’s turmoil, like inviting your f*ckbuddy over when you’re making the move on someone new is just normal. Maybe it is. Maybe this is what it means, being gay, or queer or whatever. Just f*cking around with whoever you like. Maybe Jensen would know that if he knew anything. Maybe he’s the one being a goddamn idiot, thinking what they’re doing means anything special.
Maybe Chris tells everyone he kisses that he loves them.
“You comin’?” Chris looks back and frowns. “Your back hurtin’? Need help?”
“No, I’m good,” Jensen lies quickly and hurries over. His limp is a lot better, his arm too, it’s just his back that’s still giving him trouble. Shooting pain all the way up to his neck, giving him headaches.
“You look tired,” Chris says as soon as they get inside, kissing him softly. “You should lie down, darlin’, get some rest.”
“Maybe.” He slips away from Chris’s arms and heads for his room before he does something stupid, like ask Chris to uninvite Steve.
“Hey.” Jensen looks back and Chris is watching him, worried. “You’re alright, darlin’, you got that, right? Those tests all came back negative. That means you’re good.” Jensen nods and Chris smiles, eyes soft. “Damn lucky, son, but I’ll take that luck over money any day.”
Jensen nods again, and slips into his room, closing the door behind him.
Chris knocks on his door for lunch and they eat in relative silence, Chris giving him worried glances then looking away pretending not to, every time Jensen looks up. Jensen doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask what they’re doing, what it all means, but he feels like he should already know, like it’s just another part of queer culture he knows nothing about but should, and he’s kinda fed up with feeling stupid and naïve.
“So, Steve,” he says, trying to sound casual but probably failing. “You known him long?”
Chris shrugs. “Sorta. We met in college.”
Jensen stares at him. “You went to college?”
“Don’t look so shocked,” Chris huffs. “I went but they kinda threw me out.”
Jensen snorts without meaning to. “For what?”
“Weren’t much of a team player,” Chris dismisses. “Just liked doin’ my own thing. Anyway, we met, started talkin’bout music and ‘fore you know it, we’d formed a band and were playin’ all over.”
“What happened?”
Chris hesitates, then puts down his fork, face serious. “Me. My… thing. From how Steve tells it we were mindin’ our own in some dive bar – well, the alley out back – when some drunk asshole took offence to us bein’ closer than he figured we should. Had some choice words to say about the matter, then clocked Steve when he tried to calm him down. Apparently, I f*ckin’ lost it. Steve hauled me off the f*cker as I was tryin’ to strangle him.”
He grimaces. “Don’t really remember much of it. We packed up pretty quick and ran off. Ain’t too proud of that but the guy was a f*ckin’ bigot so…” He shrugs. “Anyway, after a couple more incidents I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My dad’s genes had finally kicked in. Had it checked out and sure enough. Was put on them pills, which lemme tell you, kicked my f*ckin’ ass. Took months for the side effects to tone down. Couldn’t really keep tourin’ after that, too stressful, so here I am.”
Jensen breathes out. “sh*t.”
“Yeah.” Chris picks up his fork again and stabs at his eggs. “You wanna ask about me and Steve? That it?”
Jensen’s face heats up. He hates that he’s so obvious. “Is there? A you and him?”
“Never serious.” Chris looks uncomfortable for a moment, like he’s thinking of something, but then he says, “Was like I said. We’re just friends but we like sex so…” He shrugs.
Jensen nods slowly. He doesn’t want to ask but he feels he needs to know. “And he’s coming tonight to…?”
Chris’s head jerks up. “What? No! That what you thought?” When Jensen averts his gaze Chris drops his fork and gets up, walking around the kitchen island to wrap his arms around him. “Darlin’, no. I ain’t f*ckin’ around on you. He’s just comin’ for dinner before tonight’s gig and I told him he could sleep over, after. On the couch. What, you think I invited him over for that, with you right here?”
“I don’t know,” Jensen mumbles into Chris’s hair. He feels stupid. “I don’t know how this works.”
“How what works, sweetheart?” Chris asks, pulling back to look at him.
“Guys. I mean, I know girls don’t wanna share but guys are kinda horndogs so…” Jensen shrugs, unable to look Chris in the eye. “I don’t know.”
Chris’s fingers still where they’ve been rubbing Jensen’s neck. “If you wanna meet other people…”
“No!” Jensen grimaces. “No, I don’t. I just want you.”
Chris smiles, the relief evident. “That’s good then. We’re on the same page.” He kisses Jensen and Jensen kisses back, his chest a lot lighter. Still…
“You sure he won’t mind?”
There’s that look again, like Chris would rather not think about something, but he just shakes his head. “It weren’t ever like that. I mean, I guess it might be a bit weird at first, but we’ve been friends forever and it’s always been more about the music. And the drinkin’,” he adds with a grin.
“Alright.” But Jensen can’t help thinking maybe it won’t be quite as simple as Chris likes to believe.
Steve shows up about two hours before showtime, with two bags full of groceries and a grin that seems genuine enough despite the coolness in his eyes. Turns out him and Chris used to cook up a storm when they lived together back in the day. Steve grins and winks and says he’s going to show Jensen what a fine little housewife he’s landed himself. Or something like that. Some of the innuendo goes right over Jensen’s head and again he feels naïve. There’s just so much he doesn’t know but he can guess plenty from the way Chris turns red and elbows Steve whenever he throws jokes at Jensen that he just doesn’t get.
“So, Jen, you feeling better? Heard you had a scare.”
Jensen shoots Chris a glare but he’s busying himself chopping onions, cheeks pink all the way to his ears. “It’s Jensen. And I’m fine. I got lucky.”
“I mean the other night, on stage,” Steve elaborates, suddenly serious. “Chris’s been really worried.”
“Oh. I’m okay. I guess I was just tired.” He feels uncomfortable under Steve’s intense gaze and slides off the stool, a little too fast. His back twinges painfully, making him suck in his breath.
Chris looks up, alarmed. “Easy, darlin’! You hurtin’? Go sit down, I’ll get the pills.” He throws down the knife and hurries to the bathroom, leaving Jensen and Steve to look at each other in awkward silence.
“I’m gonna…” Jensen says, but when he turns the twist shoots pain through his back again, making him falter in his steps as his vision goes hazy. Steve is there, lightning fast, with a hand under his elbow, helping him hobble over to the couch and sink down on the soft cushions. “f*ck,” he breathes out, feeling weak and humiliated.
“You took quite a beating. It takes time,” Steve says gently and suddenly Jensen sees the man Chris has been friends with all these years, the man he calls for advice and reassurance. The man Chris has no idea is so obviously in love with him.
“Yeah.” He wonders if Chris didn’t tell Steve about f*cking up his back further or if Steve is just loyal enough not to mention it.
Just then Chris hurries back with the painkillers and Steve hands him a glass of water. Chris strokes Jensen’s back, touch so light Jensen only knows from the warmth, radiating over his skin. He shivers without meaning to, which makes Chris look even more worried.
“Lie down,” he says, puffing up the pillow and placing it under Jensen’s head before covering him with the blanket. “There. Now just you rest until dinner’s ready, darlin’,” he says and kisses Jensen softly on the forehead. Steve turns his head away and Jensen feels a tightness in his stomach.
He lies watching them, working side by side, smiling and bickering like an old couple. Chris looking up to check on him every now and then, smiling when he catches Jensen watching them. Steve following his gaze, his smile dimming momentarily before he catches himself and continues pretending he’s having the time of his life. Jensen closes his eyes and feigns sleep. As soon as they notice, their voices lower, murmured words lulling him into a sort of slumber where he can’t seem able to open his eyes, but he keeps catching bits of sentences, whispered quietly.
“… never thought… settle down…” “… I just… happy…” “… were so terrible…” “… know it ain’t like…”
Then louder: “Then what the f*ck is it like?” “Steve, please…” “Don’t.”
It’s quiet for a while after that and Jensen sinks into oblivion.
Chris watches Steve pace the room, feeling like a complete asshole. He should have known. Why didn’t he know? They’ve been doing this for eight f*cking years. Goddammit! “I still love you, man,” he tries but the hurt look Steve sends him shuts him up. For a minute. “What you want me to say?” he tries again. “I do. I f*ckin’ love you. But…”
“Forget it.”
“This ain’t just on me, man.” He knows he’s whining but come on! “You never said. Not like we’ve ever been exclusive.”
Steve stops. He takes a deep breath before fixing his gaze on Chris, eyes burning. “I was. I never f*cked around. Never. And yeah, I know I never said. But you know why. Because you… you’re not that guy! You’re not the guy that settles down. And I was good with that. Except now it seems you are and… f*ck, Chris, it f*cking hurts, okay? It hurts that you never even considered doing that with me.”
“I never considered it ‘cause it weren’t supposed to happen!” Chris shoots back. “I’ve always known that ain’t for me. I can’t get serious, I can’t do the whole relationship thing. Not with this goddamn curse, makin’ me poison. Knowin’ what can happen...” He rubs a hand over his face. God, he’s so tired. “I tried to fight it, I did. But he just… sh*t, Steve, look at him!”
Steve rolls his eyes but looks over at Jensen who is fast asleep. Full lips parted, long eyelashes dusting his cheeks. He looks angelic. Absolutely breathtaking. Chris literally has trouble breathing, just watching him.
Steve sighs. “I never said he wasn’t pretty. I mean, I get it. No way I can compete with that.”
“That ain’t… No. Not just that.” Chris walks over to crouch by Jensen’s side, lovingly stroking the hair from his eyes, careful not to wake him. “Never believed in love, not that kind of love. Not this kind. Not for me. But he looks at me and I just… It hurts, Steve. It hurts my damn soul, just thinkin’ I might lose him. It hurts so goddamn much, and I think, I think if I did, I’d just as soon give up on it all.” He looks up at Steve, who is staring at him, stunned. “And whatever we had, man, whatever you still feel, I don’t think it was ever that.”
Steve swallows. He shakes his head. “I should go,” he says, turning away, but Chris shoots to his feet and catches Steve’s wrist, pulling him into a fierce embrace.
“Please, stay. Please. I know it ain’t fair, man, but I need you. And we already made all this damn food.”
Steve hesitates and for a moment Chris thinks this is it, they’re done. Then Steve huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, since we made food,” he relents. “But I’m not doing the damn dishes.”
“Pretty boy can do the dishes,” Chris says and laughs, relieved, even if they both know he’ll end up doing them himself, with Jensen’s back still too f*cked up for him to stand for any length of time.
He releases his tight grip but feels Steve’s reluctance to let him go and so holds on for a while longer, breathing in Steve’s familiar scent, the strong and soothing presence. When they finally break apart, they’re both careful not to look the other in the eye.
“We should eat,” Chris says, voice gruff, and goes to lay the table.
Steve doesn’t blink an eye when he pulls out beers for the three of them although Chris guesses he’s gonna hear about the whiskey he plans on drinking later tonight. He cuts the grilled chicken breasts into slices and lays them upon the salad beds, scatters bits of crisp bacon over before shaving parmesan cheese on top of each plate. When he turns around Steve is standing over Jensen and Chris feels a flutter of protective annoyance in his chest. Calm down, boy.
“He looks worse than last time,” Steve says.
“I know,” Chris says, arranging the plates on the table. “I know, alright?”
Steve nods at Jensen’s arms that rest on top of the blanket, painted in colors. “You really did a number on him.”
Chris stills. “I beg your pardon?”
Steve looks up at him and frowns. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean…” He sighs. “It’s just freaky seeing the aftermath. All those times I dragged you off some asshole, guess this was what we left behind, huh?” He shakes his head.
“I didn’t beat him!” Chris growls. “That ain’t what happened!”
Steve raises his hands, startled. “Jesus, I know! Calm down! I’m just saying…”
“What? You’re just sayin’ what?”
“I don’t know! It’s just disturbing, okay?”
“What you guys talking about?” Jensen mumbles, drowsy eyes blinking awake.
“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Chris says, glaring at Steve before turning to Jensen with a soft smile. “Dinner’s ready, is all.”
The conversation is stilted at first but when no one mentions things they’d rather not talk about, it starts to ease up. Steve and Chris share stories from gigs, both at Haven and other places, before Chris stopped touring. Jensen listens, grins and laughs, eyes sparkling when he looks at Chris, like he’s someone cool, someone actually interesting. Chris catches Steve watching them, sort of wistful, but when he sees Chris looking, he just grins, like it’s nothing. The food is good but Chris still doesn’t have much of an appetite so he pushes it around the plate, taking a few small bites when he can sense either of them watching him. They don’t say anything, but he can feel their worry, like an itch upon his skin. When he puts his fork down and sits back, he hasn’t made much of a dent, even if he made his portion considerably smaller than theirs.
When it’s time to head downstairs Jensen declares he wants to come with, saying he’s bored of sitting in the apartment every night, that he wants to see what all the fuss is about. “If you guys are any good.” With a grin that makes Chris want to drag him into the bedroom – now they’ve finally got the all-clear – and forget all about the gig and Steve and the many reasons why they should still be taking it slow.
Chris hesitates but Steve is looking at him, challenging, so he says alright and doesn’t mention that he wasn’t going to sing, not really, except maybe a couple of songs.
“I’ll make sure you don’t drink too much,” Steve murmurs under his breath and Chris doesn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful so he just grunts and asks Jensen if he can borrow his guitar. “Wanted to play that thing since I saw it. Steve, look at this beauty.”
Jensen doesn’t even hesitate, which either means he doesn’t realize what a Picasso of an instrument he has, or worse, he’s too smitten to deny Chris anything. Chris suddenly regrets asking but he’s already got the Gibson in his hands and man, it sings to him like no other has, so he just kisses Jensen hard and pretends he can’t feel Steve watching them.
It's a typical Friday night, with the party already in full swing. It’s the first time Jensen’s been downstairs without being too drunk or too nervous to look around, and his eyes are huge, taking it all in. Chris wants to tell him not to stare, but it’s not like he’s hurting anyone. In fact, the ones that notice just grin and wink at him, making him blush a pretty pink that makes Chris’s heart jump.
They slide into the booth and Chris waves at Matt who comes over with the usual beers and bottle of Jack, plus a co*ke for Jensen. Matt looks awkward, there’s none of the leers and innuendos, and Chris notices Jensen sitting stiff until Matt’s gone back to the bar.
“Somethin’ you wanna tell me?” he asks Jensen in a low tone. “Matt’s been botherin’ ya?”
Jensen looks startled but he shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says, which means it’s something. “He was just worried,” he adds reluctantly when Chris continues to look at him but there’s something there, in the flush staining his cheeks and the way his face shuts down as he unconsciously wraps his arms around himself.
Chris shoots a glance at Matt, catching him watching them but quickly averting his eyes, a look of trepidation on his face, like he’s expecting retribution, no doubt remembering the last confrontation they had with fear. Goddammit! “He come on to you?” Chris asks, teeth clenching.
“No! No,” Jensen says more firmly when Chris glares, unconvinced. “He just… came up to check on me after you…” He hesitates, biting his lip, and Chris’s stomach twitches. When Jensen adds, “I was coming out of the shower and he saw… you know,” the twitch turns into a full-on clench. “I kinda freaked on him a little. I don’t like people looking at me,” he mumbles.
“f*ck.” Chris looks back at Matt who is pretending not to be watching them. No wonder Matt’s been eyeing him suspiciously the last few days. Chris thought it was just wariness after what had happened between the two of them. Honestly, he’d been surprised Matt didn’t hand in his resignation Tuesday morning. Him and Danneel. But they’d treated him pretty much the same as always, if a little guarded. Which is a lot better than he deserves.
“Wait here,” he says, sliding out of the booth despite Jensen’s panicked protest. “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna have a word,” Chris reassures him, which doesn’t calm Jensen down at all, quite the opposite. “Trust me.” On a whim he kisses Jensen quickly on the lips. Someone whistles behind him, and he has to force himself not to swing around with his fists raised. “I’ll only be a minute,” he says instead.
Matt looks wary but doesn’t budge when he sees Chris coming, just keeps on wiping the bar, although his back visibly tenses. “Hey, boss,” he says. “Get you anything else?”
“Just a word.” Chris slips behind the bar and this time Matt does take a step back. “Relax! I just wanna talk. Jensen was tellin’ me you came upstairs after it all went down on Monday.”
Matt raises his hands, eyes wide. “That wasn’t… No. It was just a misunderstanding. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. I wouldn’t!”
Chris frowns. “What the hell you on about? I’m talkin’ about you seein’ those bruises.”
Matt freezes. “Oh. No, nothing. Nothing.”
“That don’t sound like nothin’,” Chris says. He feels eerily calm. “What’d you do?”
“Nothing! I swear! I just… He was jumpy, probably ‘cause he wasn’t dressed, and I didn’t realize. I mean, I didn’t realize he felt threatened. I just wanted to check he was alright. I backed off as soon as it dawned on me. f*ck, Chris, I swear, I would never!”
Chris glares at him, silent. Matt is sweating but his eyes are open, earnest, despite his panicked body language. Thing is, Chris can easily picture it. Matt has no sense of personal space while Jensen is understandably wary of close contact. Not to mention that being confronted half-naked would make anyone feel intimidated. With Jensen’s history, Chris is just happy he didn’t have a complete freak out. And that Matt is only half the sleazeball he pretends to be.
“Alright,” he says and Matt sags with relief, wiping sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Chris can’t help quirking his lips. He should probably work on not looking like he’s ready to kill people all the time. “Now ‘bout those bruises. I know you saw ‘em, bargin’ in on him like that. He tell you what happened?”
Matt squirms. “We didn’t really talk. I mean, I tried but he just… wanted me to go. He was kinda terrified.” He winces, like he’s still expecting Chris to hit him. To be fair, Chris is seriously considering it. “I thought he was scared of you! I didn’t realize… Look, I’m sorry, but you were all crazy and an hour later he’s all covered in bruises. What was I supposed to think?”
Chris bristles. “Lemme get this straight. You thought I beat him, and you didn’t do sh*t about it? What the hell’s wrong with you, man?”
Matt blinks in surprise. “I, uh…” He licks his lips nervously. “He said he was fine.”
“Seriously? What, and you’ve just been down here, thinkin’ I’m up there smackin’ him around? And you do nothin’?”
Matt reels back. “No! Jeez, boss. Give me some credit. I just thought… it was one-time thing.”
Chris scoffs. “When’s it ever a one-time thing, huh? You should have done somethin’! Called the cops! At least confronted me!”
“Okay, I’m really confused,” Matt says, shaking his head. “So, you did beat him?”
“No! But I could have. And you, you’d have been an accomplice, not doin’ sh*t about it!” Chris huffs, disappointed. “We’re gonna have a real talk about right procedures.” He starts turning away, then remembers why he came here. “He held me down when I… I got real mad about ‘em guys who attacked him. I was tryin’ to fight him off to get to them. Bruises were from that. Alright?”
Matt nods. “Okay.”
“I wouldn’t beat him. But if I ever…” He presses his lips together, breathing in through his nose, then fixes his eyes on Matt. “If that ever changes, you make that call, okay? I hurt him, hurt you, hurt anyone that don’t come askin’ for it, you call and have ‘em take me. Alright?”
Matt swallows. “Alright.”
“Good. f*ck, I need a drink.”
He stomps back to the table where there is already a full shot glass waiting for him, along with Steve’s worried face and Jensen’s wary eyes, flickering between him and Matt. He downs the shot, closing his eyes at the familiar burn warming his throat. Damn, that feels good. He grabs the bottle and takes a swig straight from the neck to chase that burn with another. That’s the way to do it. The day he stops drinking is the day they’ll shovel over his damn grave. “We doin’ this or what?” he growls at Steve and grabs Jensen’s guitar.
Steve nods, rubbing Jensen’s shoulder reassuringly before sliding out of the booth. Jensen’s subdued face makes Chris hesitate. He leans over and palms Jensen’s neck, feeling the rapid pulse under his fingers and looks into those pretty green eyes, gazing at him anxiously.
“I ain’t mad. Okay?” He smiles softly and Jensen smiles back, if a little wary. God, he’s beautiful. The whiskey is already warming Chris’s cheeks, so he figures a little more heat won’t hurt. “I love you. Alright, darlin’?”
“Alright.” Jensen’s smile is absolutely blinding. Goddamn, it makes Chris weak in the knees.
“Now, you just sit here and enjoy the show, sweetheart. And if you get tired, you just run along upstairs, and I’ll check up on you before I go to bed. Different bed,” he adds when Jensen’s pupils instantly dilate. “Steve’s stayin’ over. On the couch. I ain’t startin’ nothin’ with him right there. Don’t mean that I don’t want to.”
He grins when Jensen blushes pink. He looks so sweet, Chris relents and pulls him in, kissing him long and hard, not even caring that there are wolf whistles and cheering and Steve yelling at him to get his ass on stage. When they part, Jensen’s eyes are shining, his lips spit-slick and puffed and his pulse pounding under Chris’s palm. Chris wants nothing more than to drag him upstairs this instant, to hell with the show.
“Chris, we’re gonna start without you,” Steve threatens through the sound system and Chris rolls his eyes. Yeah, yeah.
“I love you,” he says again, just to see that smile one more time before letting Jensen reluctantly go and straightening up. “I’m comin’!” he shouts at Steve and gives Jensen a grin before crossing the floor and jumping up on stage, guitar in hand. “Can’t a fella get some sugar without y’all moanin’ about it?” he says into the mic and gets a wave of raucous laughter in return. “Evenin’, fellow queers, and ain’t it a fine one?”
The crowd whoops and cheers but it takes him a minute to realize why. Huh. Guess he just came out. In case the floor show didn’t already get the message across.
“Calm down. We here to play music or to gossip like old ladies?” He takes a swig from the bottle of Jack before handing it over to Steve with a grin. Steve just rolls his eyes and takes a swig himself before putting the bottle down, a little out of Chris’s reach, something he doesn’t usually do until the second half of the show. But he did say he was gonna make sure Chris didn’t drink too much and Steve is nothing if not a man of his words.
“Alright. Let’s roll!”
If this is how they usually play, no wonder the crowd loves them so much. It’s less country than Jensen expected, guess Chris wasn’t kidding about Steve not being so much into that, but Chris is so much country all on his own, in his worn jeans and scuffed cowboy boots and belt buckle the size of Texas, he might as well be singing Willie Nelson. All he’s missing is a cowboy hat and Jensen knows he’s got one upstairs, worn enough to prove it’s not just for show. Jensen might have tried it on one evening when he was bored. Might have looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what it’s like to pop one of those on his head and don’t feel like a poser. Born and raised in Texas and he looks as much cowboy as Chris looks gay. Queer. Whatever.
Jensen sips his co*ke and sighs, staring up at the dynamic duo. It’s obvious they’ve been doing this for a long time, they play off each other like a married couple, joking and laughing and hanging off each other’s necks while stealing swigs of whiskey from the bottle that Steve keeps putting further and further away from Chris’s reach but somehow still ends up in his hand at regular intervals. Jensen can’t help the sting of jealousy every time Chris and Steve lean their heads together or laugh at inside jokes thrown between them. He knows it’s stupid but he wants to keep Chris to himself. Not forever but…
Did Steve have to come tonight? When they’ve finally gotten the all-clear and could do stuff? Even if the realization had made Jensen feel slightly faint and he’d had to excuse himself to have a small freakout in the bathroom. Feeling so stupid because he wanted to do all that stuff, he did, had been ready for it, before Chris told him he was possibly a living ticking time bomb of deadly diseases. It’s just…
That had been in the moment, the very horny, lust-filled moment, of which his upstairs brain took no part in whatsoever. But sitting in that doctor’s office, after days of thinking he might be dying, having been forced to talk about what had been done to him, while watching the growing fury in Chris’s eyes and deepening discomfort in the doctor’s – with them being gay, Jensen suspected, more than the sexual abuse, judging by the way he kept eyeing their clasped hands –suddenly the thought of Chris doing those things to him had made him a little sick in his stomach. Not that it’s comparable but still, same mechanism, right? He can’t help worrying that it will hurt like it’s always hurt, that he will just feel scared and degraded and–
A shadow suddenly settles over him and he jumps, startled. There’s a tall, beautiful woman looking down at him, face serious enough that Jensen sits back a little.
“Hey, honey,” she says in a husky voice. “Just wanted to tell you, you were amazing. We’re all still talking about it. And I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“I’m alright,” he says hesitantly.
She inclines her head toward Chris, smiling wickedly. “Never thought I’d see that grumpy man hitch himself a sweetheart. And the cutest of them all, at that. Whoo!”
Jensen blushes, not knowing how to respond.
“Listen,” she says, suddenly serious again. “We’ve been thinking we should have a talk with your strong and handsome about the state of things. Been too many of us had a run in with that gang.” She bites her lip, smearing lipstick on her teeth in her distress. “You’re lucky if all they did was beat you.” She must see something in his startled face because there’s a flash of fury in her eyes before they settle on genuine sadness. “Oh honey.”
He swallows, his throat so dry, he chokes on his own breath. “No. There wasn’t… no.”
“Hey, it’s alright. Ain’t no one gonna judge you. We’ve all been there. More or less. We all know the dangers that lurk out there.” She leans in, eyes kind and solemn. “I’ve been where you are. You ever want to talk–”
“No.” He shuffles further in on the bench. He can’t look at her. “Please, go.” sh*t, why is the air so damn dry? His throat is closing up, strangling him. “Please,” he forces out.
“What’s going on?”
Chris’s eyes are burning with fury, his hair is curly with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. The guitar is still slung over his shoulder. He looks ready to kill. sh*t. Up on stage the band keeps playing, with Steve singing solo, while shooting them anxious glances. From what it looks like, Chris leapt straight down from the stage to storm over.
“It’s okay,” Jensen says quickly, even if his breath is still stuck in his throat. “We were just talking.”
The lady takes a step back, looking down at Chris who is at least six inches shorter. Jensen is suddenly reminded of their talk about tall women, and he stares up at her, noticing the very prominent Adam’s apple. But… she looks real.
“Uh, he wants to talk to you,” he tells Chris whose furious glare suddenly snaps to him.
“She,” he hisses before looking up at the woman? Man? Jensen is so confused. “Sorry ‘bout him, ma’am. He’s new. He’s got a lot to learn still.”
Jensen flushes hot with shame, even worse when she looks at him and there’s real hurt there although she’s shaking her head and smiling like it doesn’t matter. “That’s alright. I’m used to it.”
“That don’t make it any better. Jensen, apologize.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says quickly, stinging from the use of his name. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I… I just don’t know how this works.”
“Oh, honey.” She pats his cheek and gives him a smile. “Just don’t be an asshole and we’ll be fine.” She turns to Chris, face serious. “A few of us would like to have a word with you after the show. About those attacks that have been happening.”
He nods. “Alright. I’ll try not to get too drunk.”
She laughs and Chris grins up at her, all smooth sexy charm, like she’s just any other woman. And it hits Jensen that she is. She is a lady and he just insulted her. His mother would be horrified.
He must look wretched because Chris sighs and leans over to kiss him as soon as she’s gone. “It’s alright, darlin’. We’ll get you educated soon enough. Just… be polite and don’t be callin’ anyone names.”
“I should go,” Jensen mumbles.
“No. No, sweetheart. Stay. We’ll be takin’ a break soon. Stay.”
Jensen relents, even if he feels like everyone is looking at him. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, he was just… surprised. She’d looked so normal, especially compared to some–
He drops his gaze to the table, cheeks burning, as he realizes what he’s doing. He’s been silently judging so many of them for being different. Like they’re not real people with real feelings. It’s a grim wakeup call. Seems he is his father’s son after all. His stomach churns. He’s never felt so ashamed in his life. If the floor swallowed him right now, he wouldn’t even try to crawl out.
He sits still, backed into the shadows, while Chris and Steve play two more songs before announcing they’re taking a break. Chris waves at Matt as they jump off the stage and they’re not even at the table when Danneel appears with a couple of beers and another co*ke for Jensen. The bottle of Jack in Chris’s hand is already half empty. He slides into the booth until he’s pressed up against Jensen’s side and slings an arm around him, pulling him even closer. “You alright, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Chris gazes at him, those piercing blue eyes going soft. “Alright, darlin’,” he says before kissing him on the ear, whispering, “Don’t worry, she ain’t mad. You still got a loyal fan.”
Jensen cringes. Now he feels even worse. “Don’t care about that. I hurt her feelings,” he whispers. “I feel awful.”
Chris nods. “I know. Think I always said the right thing when I first got into this business? With my f*ckin’ mouth? I was lucky I only got slapped once.” He juts out his lower lip, rubbing his chin. “She’d a right hook on her too. Muscles like a miner.” He frowns. “Might have been one.”
“What happened?”
“Happened? Nothin’. I apologized. I educated myself. And I got better.” He squeezes Jensen tight. “Be better. That’s all you gotta do. Be better and be kind. Just ‘cause some don’t look like the girls back home don’t make’em any less women. Just like it don’t make’em any less men who still got a rack.” At Jensen’s despairing look Chris pats his arm and says, “When in doubt, just ask, ‘What should I call you?’. It’s alright.”
“They won’t get mad?”
“Nah. Long as you’re not an asshole. Rule number one.” Chris points to the bar rules he’d asked Jensen to honor, his very first day.
“Okay.” He still figures he’s better off just keeping his stupid mouth shut.
“How you enjoyin’ yourself so far?” Chris asks, elbowing him gently. “We sound alright?”
“Sound better than alright,” Jensen says, grateful for the change in subject. “Look pretty good, too.”
“Yeah? Me or Steve?” Chris asks with a grin, then pulls Jensen in for a growly kiss when he deadpans, “Oh, Steve, definitely.”
Jensen laughs into his mouth, for a while forgetting all about his troubles. Chris tastes like whiskey, his lips softening as the kiss lingers, his growl turning into a low happy sound that makes Jensen’s stomach swoop.
Steve clears his throat and Chris waves him impatiently off but after a second loud reminder he pulls away with a sigh. “Sorry, sweetheart. We need to get back up there. You wanna join us for a song or two?”
Jensen glances at Steve, who is trying but failing miserably at not looking annoyed. “Maybe some other night,” he says. “Think I just wanna sit and listen.”
“Alright, darlin’.” Chris kisses him again, all soft and sweet. “You don’t have to sit here all night though. You can walk around, get to know people. Just no drinkin’,” he says, giving him a stern look. “No matter how nice they’re bein’. You never know. And you’re still underage.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He’s not planning to move at all, except maybe to slink upstairs because he still feels stupid and ashamed and that lady keeps looking over at him, and what if she’s telling everyone what he said? “I’ll be fine,” he adds when Chris keeps gazing at him in concern. “Go, before Steve finishes off your whiskey.”
The scowl is instant. “The f*ck he will!” Chris swirls around and stalks toward the stage, waving his fist. “Steve, you motherf*cker, lay off my Jack.” He gives Jensen a wink over his shoulder, then jumps up on stage and grabs Steve in a head hold, stealing the bottle before kissing Steve noisily on the cheek.
“Just doing my part in keeping you from passing out piss drunk before you can take your pretty boy to bed,” Steve says dryly and the crowd laughs as Chris’s face turns bright red.
Jensen sinks into his seat. f*ck. Chris looks over at him. A soft smile takes over his face, his eyes crinkle, and there’s so much love there, Jensen’s heart stutters. “I ain’t never gonna be that drunk, man,” Chris says, patting Steve on the back. “Now lay off the jealousy and let’s play some music.”
Steve presses his lips together but then he shakes his head and shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for feeling neglected.”
There’s a wave of “Aaww,” from the audience as Chris pulls Steve in and embraces him, holding him long enough that Jensen starts to fidget. When they break apart they’re both smiling and Steve looks a lot happier.
Jensen is itching to know what was said. Looking at them, he can’t help feeling like an outsider. This is all new to him and he feels unsure about everything. Even Chris. Especially Chris, despite having been given no reason to. It’s just… Chris and Steve have been friends for so long and f*cking each other for most of that time, it sounds like. It’s just weird, watching the man he’s in love with, who says he loves him, being so close to an ex.
Then again, with this being the only queer bar in town, that probably happens a lot in here. Running into your ex with someone else. Where else are they gonna go?
He’s so deep in thought he doesn’t even notice her until she’s sliding into the booth, right next to him. He jerks back, fists up, before he realizes who it is, and she backs away instantly. “Hey, no, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He blinks rapidly. “You just startled me, is all,” he chokes out.
“Well, I don’t blame you for being jumpy,” she says, eyes kind and understanding. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m Lorna.”
She offers her hand, big and strong with bright pink fingernails, and he kisses the back of it dutifully, just like his mama taught him.
“Well, ain’t you a proper gentleman.” She laughs, looking delighted, before turning serious again. “I was just watching you over here, all by your lonesome, looking kinda down, and wanted to ask if you’d like to come over. Get to know a few people. We don’t bite,” she says then winks. “Unless you’re into that kinda thing.”
He swallows. “Uhm. I don’t know. What if… what if I say something wrong again?”
Her smile turns soft. “Honey, that’s what you’ve been worrying about?”
“I hurt your feelings,” he says, dropping his gaze. “I don’t wanna do that again. To anyone.”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings, sweetie,” she says gently. “You just poked a few bad memories. It happens. There are so many of them, they’re hard to avoid. But I don’t blame you, I blame the ones that caused them. So come on, let me introduce you to some friends of mine. I’ll make sure to tell you who’s what, then all you gotta do is remember, and don’t be an asshole.”
“Rule number one,” Jensen says, risking a small smile.
She smiles back. “Exactly. What do you say?”
She holds out her hand and he only hesitates a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull him out of the booth. He glances up at Chris as she leads the way across the room and is relieved to see him smile, making a shoo motion, like go ahead, have fun. So he does.
“I told you no drinkin’!” Chris growls, prying Jensen’s eyes open. f*ck, his pupils are swimming.
“I didn’t!” Jensen giggles. “We just had a few smokes. Outside.” He waves flamboyantly at the back door.
Chris groans. He’d noticed, he’d just thought they’d gone out to smoke, you know, tobacco! Didn’t really like Jensen disappearing from his sight but he’d trusted the ladies to not let anything happen to the kid. Except this, apparently!
He pretends he can’t hear Steve laughing behind them and pulls Jensen to his feet. “Thanks, ladies,” he deadpans, and they do have the decency to look slightly chagrined. “Our meetin’s gonna have to wait.”
“Sure. And I’m sorry, honey. Well, no, I’m not,” Lorna says. “He was feeling all strung up, poor thing, and look! He’s happy now. Aren’t you, honey?”
Jensen smiles, his eyelids drooping. “Yeah.”
She smiles, patting his hand. “Night, sweetie.”
“Night, mama.” Jensen mumbles, eyes closing. “’M sorry I ran off and left you with Dad.” He sighs and Chris only just manages to wrap his arms tight around him before Jensen goes slack in his arms. Great.
Lorna puts a hand to her chest, tears glittering in her eyes. “Oh, you sweet thing.” She looks up at Chris, fixing him with a stern stare. “You better take care of that boy, mister, or I’m gonna slap your other cheek!”
“Thought I recognized you,” Chris mutters. He gestures at Steve who steps up and slips one of Jensen’s arms over his shoulders, balancing him between the two of them. “Don’t you worry,” Chris assures her. He kisses Jensen on the cheek, smiling when he just mumbles incoherently. “Figure I’m too far gone to hurt his heart without breakin’ my own.”
They drag Jensen upstairs and deposit him on his bed, dead to the world. Chris tugs off his sneakers but waits until Steve has backed out of the room before pulling off Jensen’s jeans.
“This how it’s gonna be?” he chastises as he tucks Jensen in. “You passed out from drinkin’ or smokin’ every other night? You’re gonna be the death of me, son.” Jensen doesn’t even stir. Chris sighs. “Not like I can say much. Was doin’ the same thing your age. That and worse. At least you got me to care for you.”
“Your uncle cared,” Steve says from the doorway. “In his way.”
Chris stops breathing. “My uncle beat my hide more often than not,” he hears himself say. He breathes in. Breathes out. “Didn’t really appreciate me whorin’ my way through his church.”
“Whoring?” Steve repeats, coming up to stand behind him. “Really? Is that what you were doing?”
“Everythin’ but the money,” Chris echoes. He blinks slowly. “That’s what he kept tellin’ me.”
“From what I remember you telling me,” Steve says softly, warm fingers sliding into Chris’s hair, “those women were a lot older than you. And you were a lot younger than you should have been.”
“Yeah, well.” The air feels heavy in his lungs. “Not gonna say no, was I?”
“Jesus,” Steve sighs. He sounds tired. “You’re so screwed up, you know that? Those women, they–” Steve’s fingers still, buried in Chris’s hair. “Just women, right?”
Chris shoots to his feet, twisting away from Steve’s touch. “I’ll lend you a pillow,” he mutters and stalks into the bedroom.
“Hey!” Steve hurries after him and grabs him by the wrist. “Chris, talk to me, man.”
“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Chris growls. “Now, you want that pillow or not?”
Steve gazes at him. Chris can feel his chest seize up, but he tells himself to calm the f*ck down and just continue breathing. Eventually Steve lets go off his wrist and steps back.
“Thanks,” he says and accepts the pillow from Chris’s hand. He looks over at the bed and Chris can tell he wants to ask to be allowed to stay. Even if he wasn’t having a silent freakout, there’s no way Chris is doing that. He promised Jensen.
As he lies under the covers, listening to Steve toss and turn on the couch and Jensen snore in the other room, heaviness descends on him like a thick blanket. It had been something they used to laugh about, him and Steve, when they were high on weed or drunk stupid. His old conquests. Emphasis on ‘old’. Old enough to be his mother. At least. Which he supposes was the whole point in them pursuing him, and him letting them. Now, thinking of Jensen – eighteen and still so damn young, so damn innocent despite everything – Chris feels sick to his stomach, acknowledging he was himself a kid at the time. And they were adults. And he never should have been the one punished for it.
Chris wakes up feeling strangely heavy. Like there’s lead in his bones, in his veins. Even the air in his lungs feels dense, like fog. It takes him a long time just to be able to open his eyes. He finally drags himself out of bed after telling himself that no, he can’t just stay put all day. Steve is still buried under the blanket on the couch, but he’ll wake up soon enough and then he and Jensen will both be wanting breakfast. Even if the thought of food makes Chris want to hurl.
He shuffles into the bathroom, eyes staring blindly at the wall as he empties his bladder. He feels gritty and gross, his hair is a greasy mess after last night’s sweaty performance, but he just can’t muster up the energy for a shower. He turns on the tap instead and runs a wet palm over his face then just leans on the sink, head hanging between his shoulders, and breathes for a long time before looking up to face himself in the mirror. Then looks away again, unable to hold his own gaze for more than a second.
He eyes the medicine cabinet because all of this feels familiar and he knows, he knows that he’s heading for trouble. But he also knows what the pills do to him and the thought of kissing Jensen and not feeling the wonder and joy it should give him is devastating. He’d rather feel a little down, a little worthless, a little unsure of life being worth it in general, than loose that. For all he knows this might just be passing. Just a little Saturday blues.
He's pouring himself some much-needed coffee when arms wrap around him from behind and he’s just tired enough to tilt his head back before he realizes he’s got it wrong and by then Steve is kissing him, soft and warm and tasting of sleep. He jerks away, quickly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. sh*t.
“The hell, man?” He glances nervously at Jensen’s door which is thankfully still closed.
Steve steps back, a look of hurt in his eyes. “So, not even this?” he asks. “Eight years and suddenly that’s where we’re at?”
“Steve, we talked about this.” Chris rubs a hand over his face. f*ck, he can’t deal with this on top of all the other sh*t. “Look, I’m sorry. I love you, man, but I can’t. It’d break his heart.”
“Sure. Sure,” Steve says, face closed off. “Can’t have that.”
Chris sighs. “Steve…”
“I should go,” Steve says and turns away.
“Would you stop doin’ that, man?” God, he’s so goddamn tired of it all. “Would you stop runnin’ off all the time?”
Steve spins around, glaring at him. “Seriously? f*ck you, man!” He looks furious. Steve, who hardly ever even gets annoyed. “You’re the one who asked me over but all last night, you were wrapped up in that boy. Hardly said a word to me. I had to spend the break watching you two canoodling like teenagers. For f*ck’s sake, Chris, we’re supposed to be friends!”
Chris deflates. Steve’s right. Usually they spend the breaks talking and laughing and shooting the sh*t between drinks. This time he’d been too busy with Jensen to give Steve even a glance. Chris rubs his face again. If he only weren’t so damn tired.
“’M sorry. I…” he starts but gives up. There’s not enough air in his lungs to explain.
“Literally turned your back on me,” Steve mutters.
He supposes he did. “Sorry,” he repeats. Words seem suddenly too complex, it’s a struggle to move them from his brain to his mouth. “An’ I’m sorry ‘bout… us. Never meant to hurt ya.”
“Jesus. You sound like a bad country song.” Steve sighs. “And you look like hell. For Christ’s sake, man, go take a shower. I’ll fix us breakfast.”
Chris runs trembling fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”
Steve frowns. “Hey, you alright?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound it,” Steve says, eyes narrowing. “Did you call your therapist yesterday?”
He thinks about lying but what’s the point? “I’m gonna. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“I do worry about it. Chris, look at me.” Steve palms Chris’s cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. Frowns when Chris’s gaze slides away. “Hey, look at me. What’s happening?” He steps closer, his thumb stroking Chris’s cheek. “Is this because of what we talked about last night?”
“Will you… Stop.” Chris jerks back, batting his hand away. “’M fine. Tired, is all. Jus’… leave me alone.”
He ignores Steve’s worried look and makes his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sits down on the toilet and stares at the shower. He’s only wearing boxers and a t-shirt but somehow it feels insurmountable to strip them off, turn on the water, step in the shower, wash his hair, his body, and then have to dry off and get dressed again. The thought alone is enough to make him feel a thousand pounds heavier. Like he’d need a crane to heave himself to his feet. He blinks slowly. He’s just so damn tired.
He probably should have taken the antidepressants.
It doesn’t normally hit him this fast. Typically, it happens so gradually he doesn’t realize what is happening until suddenly it’s been two weeks and he hasn’t changed his clothes, hasn’t showered, hasn’t thought of anything, done anything, but work and sleep and drink and by then it takes him weeks to crawl back out of the hole. A crash like this hasn’t happened since…
Since his uncle died.
Oh.
Trigger, that’s what his therapist called it, when Steve finally called her for him and put her on speaker and forced him to listen to her even if he didn’t have the energy to say much back. Like someone flipped a switch, bringing all the sh*t he’d buried deep in the darkest corner of his f*cked-up mind right into the spotlight.
It checks. Steve bringing his uncle up last night. Must have triggered something. Made him think about… Chris squeezes his eyes shut. He shakes his head. Stop. f*ck.
He needs to take his meds.
He’s just gonna sit here for a little while first. Gather his strength. He’s just so f*cking tired.
“Chris? Can I come in? Chris? Is it alright if I come in? Hey.”
A warm hand palms his cheek and he opens his eyes. Jensen is smiling down at him, a worried look in his beautiful eyes. Chris smiles back, or at least he thinks he does, except Jensen just looks more worried.
“Hey,” Jensen repeats, voice soft. “Good thing you never lock the door.”
Hmm? Oh. He lives alone, or he did for so long, he got out of the habit. Has to remind himself to even close it now Jensen’s living here.
“Steve says you might be feeling a bit down. He says you need to take your meds. Have you?”
Chris frowns. Did he? No, he was going to take a shower first. He shakes his head.
“Alright, I’ll find them for you. Wait here.”
Jensen disappears and Chris hears a murmured conversation before Jensen reappears with a tall glass of water. Chris watches him in silence open the medicine cabinet, rummage around until he finds the right bottle, then shake a pill out into his hand.
“Did you take your anger pills? Sorry, I don’t know what to call them, I can’t pronounce Pre… Pre… ugh, you know what I mean.”
Anger pills is as good a name as any. Chris shakes his head.
“Alright, let’s take one of those, then. Antianxiety pills? That’s what these are, right? I don’t know, are you taking them too?”
Chris closes his eyes.
“Hey. Chris, I need you to take these for me. Can you do that?”
He opens his eyes. Jensen is gazing down at him, smiling. He looks like an angel with the bathroom light burning like a halo behind his head. So beautiful.
“Beautiful.” Chris’s voice sounds rusty. Head feels like it too. Full of rusty nails and scrap metal.
Jensen’s smile widens and he laughs. It sounds a little broken. “Good to know you’re still in there.”
Chris frowns. Huh?
“Can you take these pills for me?”
Jensen takes Chris’s hand between his very warm ones, turns it palm up and puts a couple of pills there. Chris instinctively starts to curl his fingers but Jensen pries them gently open again.
“No, you need to take them. Here.”
A cold glass is put into his other hand and he frowns, missing the warmth of Jensen’s fingers. He looks down at the pills in one hand and the glass of water in the other and it still takes him a moment to figure out what he’s supposed to do with them. He swallows the pills, one at a time, gulping down water after each one. It feels good. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty.
“Good. That’s great. You want to come lay down?”
Sure. He can do that. He stands up and is surprised by how much his body aches, enough that he stumbles and would have fallen if Jensen hadn’t been right there, ready to catch him.
“It’s alright. You’re just stiff from sitting so long.”
Huh? Didn’t he just sit down a minute ago? Confused he shuffles to the bed and lies down. Closes his eyes.
“No, under the covers. You’re cold, we need to heat you up. Chris? Okay, I’ll go get the blanket.”
Warmth settles over him. He sleeps.
Chris opens his eyes and Jensen is asleep beside him, huddled under the blanket. It takes him a moment to remember and when he does, he wants to close his eyes and just continue sleeping. He feels empty, like he can’t quite remember who he is supposed to be. His thoughts are slow, his emotions… not there. Not really. He looks at Jensen and he knows he loves him, but that overwhelming, almost painful feeling of love he remembers is missing.
He must have made a distressed sound because Jensen jerks awake, blinking those long eyelashes that he seems to hate and Chris loves so much.
“Hey, you’re up. How are you feeling?” Jensen asks, voice slow with sleep. His breath smells of coffee and pancakes so Steve must have kept his word and made breakfast.
“Alright,” Chris lies.
Jensen smiles. “That’s good.” His hand slips out from under the blanket and brushes Chris’s hair behind his ear. “I didn’t know you got like this.”
Chris flushes warm. “Sorry.” He seeks out Jensen’s t-shirt under the blanket, sliding his hand underneath to feel the warmth of Jensen’s skin against his palm. Jensen snuggles closer, feet entangling. “Didn’ mean to scare ya.”
“Not scared, just worried. It was like you shut down.” Jensen worries at his lip with his teeth and Chris wants to kiss the small dents they leave in the soft flesh. “I thought you were taking antidepressants. I mean regularly.”
Chris sighs. “I ain’t that good at takin’em. Don’t like how they make me feel.”
“Like now?”
“Mhmm,” he agrees but doesn’t have the words to elaborate further. “’M sorry, darlin’. I’ll be better.”
“I just want you to feel better,” Jensen says.
He sounds anxious and his lips are tugging down so Chris leans forward and kisses him, remembering too late that he never brushed his teeth. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind, he kisses him back easily enough. His fingers tug at Chris’s hair. Chris thinks of the grease staining Jensen’s delicate fingers, smearing into his soft skin, and he pulls away, grimacing at how sweaty and disgusting he feels. Filthy.
“What’s wrong? Chris, look at me.”
He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly. The air feels thick, in his nose, his throat, his lungs. Weighing him down. “Nothin’. Jus’…” Jensen strokes his hair and Chris scrunches up his nose.
“You want to take a shower?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.
“Now?”
He closes his eyes.
“Chris, hey.” Soft lips kiss the tip of his nose. “You with me?”
Yes. No, not really.
“We don’t have to take a shower now. You want to sleep more first?”
“Mmm.”
“Alright. A little while longer.”
Jensen slips out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He’s surprised to find Steve still there, sitting on the couch reading one of the novels from Chris’s bookcase. From Jensen’s room. Jensen opens his mouth, then decides it’s not worth starting another argument over. “Didn’t know you were still here,” he says instead.
Steve looks up, startled, like he’d been too engrossed, or possibly too lost in thought to hear him approach. “He’s my best friend, kid. You think I’d just leave him like that?”
“No, of course not. Sorry.” Jensen goes and pours himself some coffee. It’s steaming hot so Steve must have made a fresh batch. “He woke up for a moment but then he fell asleep again.” Steve nods but doesn’t comment, just resumes reading. “I didn’t know he got like that,” Jensen repeats since he never got a decent answer out of Chris and he wants to know.
“You don’t really know him at all, kid,” Steve says but for once it sounds more tired than disdainful. “It doesn’t usually happen like that. And he’s supposed to be taking meds for it.”
“He hates the meds,” Jensen says even if he doesn’t quite understand why. Aren’t they supposed to make him feel better?
“I know, but he doesn’t exactly make it easy on himself. He needs to take them every day, not when he’s already fallen down the rabbit hole. He keeps kickstarting the side effects. And with all the drinking and not eating enough…” Steve sighs. “I love him but he’s a dumbass, okay?”
“Yeah.”
They share a smile and Jensen is just starting to think maybe they can find a common ground after all when Steve adds, “You being here doesn’t help.”
Jensen’s smile drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Steve shrugs. “You tell me, kid,” he says, eyes back on the book. “He’s been fine and suddenly here you are and he’s having rage attacks and depressive episodes again. Not exactly hard to do the math.”
“Well, you’re clearly sh*t at math,” Jensen snaps even if Steve’s not saying anything he hasn’t thought himself. “Maybe, before I came along, his life was f*cking boring and he had nothing to get upset about because he didn’t f*cking care about anything? Maybe that’s why he’s a little f*cked up right now because he actually loves me, and he’s never felt that way before? And maybe that’s why you’re being such an asshole, because you’re jealous he never felt that way with you!”
Steve glares at him, face like thunder. He throws the book down and stands up. “You’re a little punk, you know that?”
Jensen instantly backs away, but he just can’t keep his mouth shut. “I’m a punk? You’ve been a jerk to me from day one! I never did anything to you!”
Before he has time to run, Steve is in his face, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and slamming him up against the wall. sh*t!
“f*ck you! You come in here with your pretty face and your pretty little mouth and your f*cking doe eyes and he runs after you, like the f*cking horndog he is. You think this is love? Huh? You think this is forever?” Steve scoffs. “Some girl winks at him, some guy with a nice ass comes along, he’s gonna forget all about love, all about how special you made him feel.”
Steve’s breath blows hot and heavy in Jensen’s face, his eyes flickering to Jensen’s mouth and back to his eyes, pupils wide and dark. They’re pressed so close the heat radiating off Steve is like a furnace against Jensen’s body. Jensen’s own breath is coming short and fast. He can’t move, he can’t look away, it’s like his blood is frozen in his veins, turning his limbs to stone.
“Look at you! Just because you’re so damn pretty, because you’re so f*cking beautiful, you think you’re something special? You’re just, just– f*ck!” Steve yanks him forward and kisses him, hard enough that their teeth click.
Jensen SCREAMS into Steve’s mouth, his fists flailing, pounding, pushing at Steve’s chest, fighting to get him off, off, OFF!
Steve jerks back, shocked. There’s blood on his lip. “sh*t! I didn’t mean to…” Jensen draws in a sharp breath and Steve slams his hand over his mouth. “No! Please! Don’t! I’m sorry! Jensen, please!”
Jensen’s eyes go wide with terror. His head is locked in a vice between Steve’s strong hands, one gripping the back of his neck, the other covering his mouth, his nose! Steve is staring at him, frantic. His body shifts, just a little. Just enough that Jensen feels him, hard and warm, pressing against his thigh. Steve’s pupils explode in his eyes as his lips part on a sharp inhale.
Jensen closes his eyes. Tears well over at the corners as a muffled sob jerks his body. No! Please.
Steve lets him abruptly go with a hissed curse, jumping back with his hands held up, palms facing forward. “f*ck, I’m sorry! Please, don’t scream. He’ll f*cking kill me!”
Jensen frantically sucks in air through his nose, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. He feels faint, like his legs might give out any second. Steve reaches for him, eyes still pleading, but Jensen twists away and stumbles to his room. He falls back against the door as it shuts behind him and sinks to the floor, arms around his knees. He’s shaking so hard his teeth rattle in his mouth. He thought– He thought Steve was gonna–
He’s been pushing away what happened to him, telling himself it didn’t matter, he’s had so much worse, but the truth is… The truth is he thought he’d escaped from all that when he left and came here. Turns out it was just waiting for him. New town, same sh*t. And so he’d just taken it. Had just gone down on his knees and done as they told him, because it doesn’t matter where he goes, this is what he is. This is what he’s good for. And there’s no escaping it, anywhere.
“Jensen, please,” Steve’s subdued voice sounds through the door. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna do anything, I swear. Please, can I come in?”
The handle rattles and Jensen presses his back against the door, his socked feet slipping on the slick floorboards. “No!”
The rattling instantly stops.
“Okay, I’ll just talk here then. Alright? I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so damn angry. And not even at you, I’m angry at him. And myself for thinking… Doesn’t matter. I’m a goddamn idiot. I just wanted to… I don’t even know. You’re just…” Steve groans and it vibrates through the door, as if he’s leaning his head against the other side. “You’re so damn beautiful and I’m… I’m just me and he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees you and I got so mad and I just… I didn’t think. I didn’t remember. Not that it would ever have been okay but… I was never gonna hurt you. I wouldn’t, I swear!”
“It’s all I’m good for,” Jensen recites, voice shaking. “It’s all I’m good for. I know, I know. But I don’t want it.”
Steve makes a pained sound. “Jesus, kid, no! No. I’m so sorry for what I did and I’m so sorry those people hurt you but it’s not on you, baby. It’s not on you. Please, can I come in? Please, Jensen. I’m not gonna do anything, I swear.”
Jensen hesitates then shuffles away from the door against his better judgement, just far enough for Steve to slip through the crack and crouch down in front of him. Jensen is surprised to see Steve’s eyes are glittering with tears. He keeps still as Steve reaches out hesitantly and lays a hand on his arm, then moves it up to his shoulder when Jensen doesn’t jerk away. Jensen’s lower lip starts to tremble and he bites it hard, squeezing his eyes shut. Steve moves to sit beside him and puts an arm hesitantly around his shoulders. Jensen hitches his breath and then it’s like the strings holding him together just snap. He crumbles, burying his face in Steve’s chest as he cries.
“Sshh. Sshh, kiddo. It’s alright. It’s alright.” Steve rocks him gently, stroking his back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It never stops!” Jensen sobs. “They just keep… And no one even cares!” He covers his mouth with his fist, trying to muffle his crying. If Chris hears him, if he wakes up, he’ll be furious.
“Sshh. We care.” Steve’s warm hand slides up to rub his neck. “Chris cares so much he’s going crazy over you.”
Jensen shakes his head. “I could, I could have gotten all kinds of sick,” he whispers into his fist. “Did you know that? They made me swallow. I tried to spit it out but he put his hand over my mouth and I couldn’t–” He sucks in a wet breath. “They laughed. They laughed and… I just gave up. I didn’t fight. I didn’t do anything! I just took it cause, cause that’s all I’m good for. It’s all I’m good for.”
Steve’s warm hand presses Jensen’s face to his chest, kissing the top of his head as he continues to rock him. “No. No, that’s not true,” he soothes. His voice shakes. “That’s not true at all. You’re a great kid and you’re a wonderful singer and I’m sorry I was such a f*cking jerk to you. I was just jealous.”
“Wha’s goin’ on? Jesus, darlin’, wha’ happened?”
Chris drops heavily to his knees before them, foggy eyes blinking as he gently pulls Jensen into his own arms, while shooting Steve a bewildered glare.
Steve jumps to his feet and backs away. “It’s my fault. I got mad and kissed him,” he blurts out. “I’m sorry.”
Jensen’s head snaps up. He was all ready to make something up, anything, didn’t matter, as long as Chris never found out what happened. Never in a million years did he expect Steve to confess. Panicked he looks up at Chris whose face is blank, the only hint of what he’s feeling a slight flush in his cheeks.
“What’ya say?” Chris’s voice sounds eerily calm even if his words are slurred.
“Chris, it’s okay,” Jensen says quickly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was nothing!”
But Chris doesn’t even seem to hear him. “You kissed‘im?” He looks at Jensen, nostrils flaring as he runs his thumb gently over Jensen’s lip. It comes away bloody. “Kissed? You f*ckin’ attacked ‘im!”
Jensen says, “No!” just as Steve admits, “Yes. f*ck. Yes. I did. I wasn’t thinking. I just– I’m sorry. Please believe me, I’m so f*cking sorry.”
Chris detangles himself gently from Jensen’s desperate grip and gets slowly to his feet, a murderous glint in his eyes. “Sorry? Y’any idea what he’s been through? Huh? Do ya?”
Jensen catches Chris’s wrist as he lurches forward, almost causing him to lose his balance. He seems to be running on nothing but rage and Jensen fears it’s only a matter of seconds before he collapses.
“I do,” Steve says. He’s still standing firm, but Jensen can see his hands are shaking. “And I’m so damn sorry, but Chris, please, calm down. You’re gonna have another attack.”
Chris shakes his head. “This ain’t my f*ckin’ disorder, man, this is me,” he growls. “This is me, Steve, and I’m so f*ckin’ furious, I’d be f*ckin’ killin’ you right now if I weren’t drugged to my f*ckin’ eyeballs!”
Again he tries to rush forward but Jensen yanks him back, grip tight around his wrist. It’s frightening how easy it is, like he’s handling a child and not someone who on a good day could easily sweep the floor with the both of them.
Steve steps back, swallowing rapidly. “I might just let you. You wanna take a swing, you wanna beat the sh*t out of me? Go ahead. I deserve it.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Jensen stumbles to his feet, making sure not to loosen his grip. “Chris, it was just a kiss!”
“Weren’t just a damn kiss! A damn kiss wouldna’ve you cryin’ like that.” Chris wraps a protective arm around him. Jensen can feel tremors running through his body. “Cryin’ like your heart were breakin’.”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Jensen says, thankful his voice is finally steadying. “It wasn’t like that."
“Like hell y’ain’t hurt! Your lip’s all bloody,” Chris insists, nostrils flaring.
Jensen runs his tongue over his lips but there’s no sting. “It’s not mine. It’s his. I must have bit him. Chris, I’m okay.” Well, no, clearly he’s far from okay. But if they don’t solve this right now, things could get so much worse. “I swear, it was just a kiss, Chris. I overreacted. And he already apologized. Alright?”
“Alright?” Chris shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Darlin’, he–”
“Made a mistake,” Jensen cuts in. “He’s your best friend, Chris. You really gonna threaten your best friend with murder for stealing one lousy kiss?” He scoffs. “You wanna blame someone, blame me. My f*cking face for asking for it."
“Jesus, kid,” Steve whispers, sounding pained. “No.”
“Don’t ever talk like that,” Chris growls, pressing his lips to Jensen’s mouth. His breathing is slowing down, his arm around Jensen’s shoulders growing heavy enough to make Jensen stagger. “You’re f*ckin’ beautiful, boy. Ain’t a damn thing wrong with that.” Chris lifts his head, glaring at Steve. “See what ya did?”
“Think I don’t know?” Steve says anguished. “Dammit, Chris, I f*cking hate myself!”
Chris huffs, stumbling slightly on his feet. “Well, you f*ckin’ should!”
“Will you two give it a rest already?” Jensen snaps. “For f*ck’s sake! It was one goddamn kiss and it ain’t worth all this trouble. I only freaked out ‘cause I thought–"
He cuts himself off before he says something that will set Chris off again, but he can tell from the stricken look on Steve’s face he knows exactly where that sentence was heading.
“Can we please just drop it?” He wraps his arm around Chris’s waist to steady his increasingly heavy body. “You need to eat something. You look like sh*t, and you have a gig tonight.”
Chris frowns, blinking rapidly. His eyes are quickly losing focus. Jensen drags him over to the bed and nudges him to sit down. “Hey, you with me? Your gig. Today is Saturday, remember?”
Chris shakes his head as if to clear it. “I know what day it is,” he grumbles although Jensen is pretty sure he’d forgotten. “I’m no good, darlin’. I’m sorry. Steve, you, you... bastard, you take it.”
Steve nods, taking the insult in stride. “Sure. Of course. But you still gotta eat something. And shower.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Chris closes his eyes, his body sagging. Jensen nudges him to lie down on the pillow before he topples over on the floor. “Chris, he’s right, you need to eat. You haven’t had anything since yesterday.”
“Ain’t hungry,” Chris mumbles. “Ti’ed."
“I’ll make him an omelet,” Steve says, clearly glad for an excuse to leave. “He can rest until it’s ready.” He slips quickly out of the room.
“Chris?” Jensen says, stroking Chris’s hair back. “Scoot over.”
“Mmm?”
Jensen nudges him until he gets with the program and wriggles over to the other side of the bed, making enough room for Jensen to slip in and wrap his arms around him. Chris is warm, his t-shirt damp with sweat, his breath smells of stale coffee and sleep. His hair is limp and greasy. Jensen doesn’t care. He snuggles close and kisses Chris gently on the lips. Chris kisses him back, hesitantly at first then with more conviction when Jensen doesn’t pull away. Jensen slides his hand under Chris’s t-shirt that’s clinging to his clammy back. Chris hums and runs his leg over Jensen’s thigh, hooking his foot behind Jensen’s calf and pulling him close enough that Jensen can feel Chris’s dick, half-hard against his hip.
“You want…? I can–” Jensen starts, reaching for it, but Chris fumbles for his hand, halting it.
“Nuhuh.” He kisses Jensen softly. “Not now.”
“I’m okay,” Jensen protests. “I wasn’t lying. I can do it.”
“Sweetheart,” Chris says, blinking his eyes open. “You ain’t okay. And I ain’t okay, I’m dealin’ with, with… some stuff. But it’s alright. We’ve got time.”
His blue eyes are clouded with sadness and Jensen’s stomach tightens with a twinge. “What stuff?” he asks hesitantly. “Is that why… Did something happen?”
Chris shakes his head. “Long ago. Was young an’ stupid.” Chris blinks repeatedly, as if he’s trying to stay awake, or maybe keep the memories at bay. “Made some bad choices. f*cked… f*cked the wrong people.”
Something in Chris’s voice, in the faraway look in his eyes makes Jensen uneasy. Young? How young? “Okay. Wrong how? How were they wrong?”
“Fine folks. Upright. Church goin’.” Chris frowns. “Bored, I guess.”
“Okay,” Jensen repeats. He has a bad feeling about this. “Older than you?”
“Yeah.”
“A lot older?”
“Mhmm.” Chris licks his lips. “M’uncle beat my ass for, for whorin’.” He frowns again. “Weren’t. I’s… I’s jus’ lonely.”
“And a kid.”
Chris sighs. “Yeah. That too.”
“They abused you,” Jensen says softly. “Those churchgoing fine folks.”
Chris frowns. “No… Was my choice.”
“Was it?” Jensen brushes his hair gently behind his ear. “Or did you just not say no?”
The frown deepens. “I… Uh…”
“Couldn’t say no,” Jensen continues quietly. “‘Cause they were adults and you were a kid and supposed to respect your elders.” He can so easily imagine it. After all, that’s how he was raised. Never question anything, just shut up and do as you’re told. “And maybe you liked that they were nice to you and maybe even felt a little special that they wanted you. And then you couldn’t back out ‘cause… Well, you just couldn’t. And you told yourself it was alright because it did feel good, some of it, and the stuff that didn’t, you blamed yourself ‘cause you can’t say yes to one thing and no to another. No backing out now, right? And so you f*cked them or let them f*ck you and when you got caught they all blamed you ‘cause they were fine folks and you were just a good-for-nothing kid.”
“That’s… that’s…” Chris licks his lips, blinking as his eyes water. “Mrs. Davis. She made a casserole. For me an’ my uncle. I’s returnin’ the dish. Was a fine one, white with, with blue flowers. She pulled me inside an’ hugged me. An’ I, I just…” He breathes out. “Ain’t no one hugged me since my ma died. Was nice. Soft. Warm. An’ then…” He shakes his head, frowning. “She kissed me an’ I’s thinkin’ I should say no an’ jus’ leave but… it’s still nice, jus’ different. Didna mean to get hard, got all embarrassed, but she, she jus’ laughed an’ said it’s alright. Said it’s natural. Pushed me over on the couch an’ put her mouth on me. I jus’… right away. Thought she’d be mad but she jus’ told me it’s alright, long as I returned the favor. So I kinda had to.” He frowns again. “Didna really like it.”
Jensen nods with an encouraging smile. His heart hurts.
“Lots of nice ladies brought us food after that. Told m’uncle jus’ send me over with the dishes soon’s we’d finished. Said I was, I was such a nice young man.” Chris’s eyes slip closed. He exhales softly. “Got real good at eatin’em ladies out. And, and f*ckin’.”
Jensen hesitates. “You said folks. That they were fine folks. So not just ladies?”
Chris’s lower lip quivers, his eyes still pressed closed. “Were some, some others. Didna like them as much.” The corners of his mouth turn down. “I jus’ missed my ma,” he whispers.
“I know,” Jensen says softly around the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it were. It were.” Chris covers his eyes with his hand, his breath shaking. “I shoulda said no. I should...” He breathes out, hand sliding off his face.
“Like I should have said no?” Jensen asks him, throat so tight he can hardly get the words out. “You know that ain’t right.”
But Chris is already asleep.
Jensen blinks the tears out of his eyes and leans over to kiss Chris gently on the cheek. He hears a soft sound and looks over his shoulder to find Steve standing in the doorway, face ashen. Jensen has no idea how long he’s been there but clearly long enough.
“We used to laugh about it,” Steve says, voice hoarse. “Chris’s old lady conquests. I mean, it always felt kinda icky but I never really… sh*t.”
“How old was he?” Jensen asks as he detangles himself from Chris’s embrace and stands up.
“Fifteen when it all blew up,” Steve says. “But from what I gather it had been going on for a while, so maybe fourteen when it started? His uncle beat the crap out of him, then made him stand up in church and repent in front of everyone.” Steve grimaces. “Just about the women, don’t think he knew about any men. This is the first I’ve heard of those. But I had my suspicions. When we got together… Fresh out of Bumf*ck, Nowhere, he was way too good at–” Steve’s face turns red. “Well, you know.”
“Yeah.” Jensen was a quick learner himself. The better he is, the faster it’s over. “This why he gets like this?”
Steve grimaces. “He’s got plenty of other issues but yeah, this time I’d say it was this. I mentioned his uncle last night. Guess that set him off. It’s a trigger.”
“Oh.” Jensen frowns. “That what happened with me earlier? A trigger?”
Steve drops his gaze. “Ah, no, I don’t think so. I think I just really f*cking scared you.” He presses his lips together, swallowing. “Thank you for defending me earlier, kid, but I did assault you. I did. I’m so damn sorry. You should have let him just beat me.”
Jensen looks away. “I didn’t do it for you. He needs you, you’re his best friend.” He lifts his head. “But if you ever touch me again–”
“I promise. Jesus, I swear upon my life.” Steve looks like he’s about to cry. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m gonna go. I’ll play tonight but I won’t stay over.”
“It’s okay if you do,” Jensen says quickly, and it feels almost true. He’s still rattled and would rather put a million miles between them, but Chris is more important. What if he needs help and Jensen doesn’t know what to do? “You can have my bed, I’ll sleep in his. I don’t wanna leave him alone,” he mutters when Steve raises an eyebrow. “That’s all.”
“Not sure I’m welcome,” Steve says but he looks relieved. From what Jensen gathered from listening to him and Chris talk, he lives at least an hour away.
“Well, this is my home, too, so I say you are,” Jensen says with more conviction than he feels. “Did you cook him something?”
“An omelet. We should make him eat or he might get sick. You need help getting him up?”
“Don’t know. I’ll holler if I do.”
He sits down on the bed, stroking Chris’s hair. He hates to wake him up but Steve is right, they need to get some food in him. Part of why the drugs are f*cking with him so badly is probably because there’s hardly anything in his system but booze. “Chris? Hey, wake up. Food’s ready.”
Chris frowns before slowly blinking his eyes open. “Ain’t hungry.”
“I know, but you need to eat something. And drink some water.” When Chris looks ready to argue, Jensen adds, “For me? Please,” and kisses him.
Chris smiles, all soft and warm. “Anythin’ for you, love.”
“Okay. Come on then.”
Chris grunts as he struggles to sit, with Jensen finally hauling him up and to his feet by grabbing him under his armpits. Chris sways on his feet and for a moment Jensen is afraid he’ll topple over but then he shakes his head and squares his shoulders and together they shuffle out into the living room where Jensen lowers Chris down on the couch.
When Steve puts the plate in front of him, Chris mumbles, “Thanks, man,” sounding genuinely grateful, like he’s already forgotten their fight earlier. Maybe he has. Jensen fetches him water and then he and Steve stand and watch Chris painstakingly work his way through the small meal, like every bite is a torture.
“Might not keep it down,” he mumbles, apologetic.
“Then we’ll just try again later,” Steve says gently.
“Sorry for bein’…” He frowns, like he can’t quite remember what’s going on. It’s goddamn frightening. He looks up, smiling hesitantly at Jensen before looking at Steve. “You know.”
“I know, babe,” Steve assures him. “It’s okay. You just had a bit of a downturn. You’ll be alright soon as you get some rest.”
Chris nods and continues eating, looking like he’s gonna hurl as he carefully chews and swallows each bite. When he’s finally done, he breathes out and leans back on the couch, closing his eyes. “Tired,” he says. His skin is tinted grey, the eyes still rimmed red since earlier. Frankly, he looks like hell.
“I changed the sheets in his room,” Steve tells Jensen in a low tone, “but he’d feel so much better if he takes a shower.”
Jensen nods. “I’m on it,” he says. He turns to slip past Steve, meaning to find Chris a clean towel and some soft clothes, just as Steve steps forward, right into his path. Jensen jerks and Steve instantly steps back.
“I’m sorry. sh*t.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen says quickly. “Just… tense, I guess.” He doesn’t really believe Steve will try again but he’s made the mistake of trusting people way too many times. “I’m gonna…” He waves his hand toward the bedroom, hating how shaky he sounds. Nothing happened! Relax!
“Sure. I’ll go let Matt know the change in schedule.”
“Okay.” Jensen hurries into the bedroom. By the time he comes back, Steve is gone and Chris is fast asleep on the couch. Jensen sighs. His back already hurts from hauling Chris around earlier, helping him shower is not going to do it any favors. But if it makes Chris feel better…
“Hey,” he says, stroking Chris’s hair from his eyes. “You with me?”
“Mmm?” Chris mumbles, opening his eyes. “Sorry, love. Tired,” he says once again, like he’s given up on understanding what’s going on and latched on to the only word that comes close to describing how he’s feeling.
“I know. But you’re starting to smell. You need to take a shower. I’ll join you,” he adds with a grin when Chris looks like he’s going to argue.
Chris blinks. “Yeah, okay,” he says and struggles to his feet. Once they reach the bathroom he comes to a stop, frowning. “No. No, darlin’, that ain’t…” he says. “I’m fine. I’m…”
“Chris, shut up. I want to. I’ve been wanting to get you naked for days now.”
Chris blinks. “But–” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m no good, love. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about that. It’s just a shower.” Jensen smiles and kisses him lightly. “I just really wanna wash your hair.”
Chris chuckles, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “That so?”
“Yeah, that’s so. You gonna let me do that?”
“Yeah, okay.” He shuffles into the bathroom and sits down on the toilet while Jensen turns on the shower to warm the water. Chris obediently raises his arms so Jensen can pull off the t-shirt but when it comes time to tug down his boxers, he blushes deep red and shoos Jensen’s hands away. “I can do that.”
“Alright.”
Jensen turns around and starts stripping off his own clothes, flushing warm when he hears Chris make a soft sound behind him as he steps out of his sweats.
“I ain’t lookin’,” Chris mumbles and when Jensen turns to face him, he’s covered his eyes with his hand while using the other to steady himself on the sink. It still doesn’t keep him from swaying on his feet. It’s damn adorable. And wow, Chris naked is a sight to behold. All muscles and sinews, covered in soft tanned skin. And, uhm, yeah. Nothing wrong with that part either. Damn. As if on cue, Chris’s dick twitches and he huffs an annoyed curse.
Jensen grins, his shyness evaporating. “C’mon, stud. Let’s get you nice and wet.” He laughs when Chris stumbles, hand feeling blindly for the shower curtain. “Chris, you can open your eyes, it’s okay.”
“You sure, darlin’? Cause I can keep’em closed if you’d rather.”
“I’d rather see your pretty eyes,” Jensen says, grinning when Chris’s cheeks turn pink. See, he can flirt! “C’mere.”
He takes Chris’s hand and waits patiently for him to lower the other one, blinking into the light. His gaze darts down then quickly up again, the blush travelling all the way up to the tip of his ears. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind you looking,” Jensen reminds him, stepping in close for a kiss. “If you like what you see.”
“You know I do,” Chris murmurs, kissing him back. “Damn beautiful, that’s what you are.”
And it’s strange, for all he’s hated it when people comment on his looks, from Chris’s mouth the words sound different now. They sound honest. They make his heart flutter. Doesn’t stop him feeling self-conscious though. “You wanna keep the braids in while I wash your hair, or you want me to take them out?” he asks to change the subject.
Chris reaches up to awkwardly touch one of the thin braids. “Didn’t know you’d noticed ‘em. People usually ask stupid questions when they do.”
“I just figured they were private,” Jensen says, even if he’s damn curious. “So, in or out?”
“Better take’em out.” Chris’s ears turn pink. “Was thinkin’ it be nice to put beads in anyway. I do that sometimes.”
“Bet it looks real good,” Jensen says, gently slipping off the rubber bands and untangling Chris’s hair. “C’mon.”
Jensen nudges Chris under the now warm spray, not caring that only a little of it lands on himself. He can shower later. This is about making Chris feel better. The tension in Chris’s shoulders visibly drains away as the warm water falls upon them. Chris lifts his face and lets the water rush over it before bowing his head again, his hair soaked through. When he reaches for the shampoo bottle, Jensen beats him to it.
“Let me,” he says. “I want to. Please,” he adds when Chris tries to argue and Chris instantly relents, turning to brace himself on the shower wall.
Jensen would never have believed it could be so sensual to wash another man’s hair. Granted, Chris does have exceptionally nice hair, soft and down to his shoulders. Jensen has sometimes wondered what it would be like to have Chris rest his head in his lap so he can run his fingers through all that softness. It’s different when it’s wet, not to mention while it’s still greasy, but soon as Jensen’s lathered it up with Chris’s shampoo, the silkiness returns.
Chris hums when Jensen starts massaging the lather into his scalp, a low vibrating sound that turns into soft moans the longer he keeps at it. Jensen’s dick really likes that sound. Likes it so much that Jensen has to take a step back so it doesn’t accidentally poke Chris in the back. Embarrassed, he directs Chris under the spray to rinse out the shampoo, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the sight of him where he stands with his eyes closed, head thrown back so the water can run unhindered through his hair. Chris is half hard, his dick thick and beautiful like the rest of him. Jensen doesn’t put much stock in its reaction though; having someone, anyone, take care of you, probably just feels good.
“Now, conditioner,” he says, and Chris turns around again, leaning heavily against the wall. His knees have started to shake so Jensen does a quick job of it, smearing the conditioner thick into Chris’s hair before nudging him to move under the water again. Even if he didn’t give it time to sink in properly it still takes a while to rinse out, and by then Chris is clearly flagging. He pulls his head out of the stream and blinks his eyes open, water clinging to his eyelashes, the eyes so damn blue and tired Jensen can’t help but step forward and kiss him. Chris makes a happy sound, one hand coming up to cup Jensen’s face, fingers sliding along his jaw and over his ear, thumb stroking his cheek, the other hand heavy on his hip, gripping him tight.
“Love you,” Chris murmurs into Jensen’s mouth, nibbling his lower lip with his teeth before tilting Jensen’s head slightly to the side for better access and then they’re kissing for earnest, tongues sliding into each other’s mouths. Jensen quickly gives in to Chris’s more experienced moves and lets himself be kissed like he’s always wished to be, loving and gentle despite the obvious need and hunger that’s making Chris practically tremble. Or that might be the exhaustion, Jensen realizes as Chris slowly starts sliding down the wall, pulling Jensen along until they’re sitting at the bottom of the shower stall, Jensen half in Chris’s lap, the water cascading upon them like a soft rainfall.
Again Jensen reaches down but Chris shakes his head, mumbling, “Just this, sweetheart. Just want this,” so Jensen rests his hand upon Chris’s thigh instead. All the while they never stop kissing.
Jensen figures they’re more than clean enough by the time the water starts to cool down so he reaches up and turns it off. He kisses Chris for a few more minutes before pulling away with a sigh. “We need to get you dry before you start freezing.”
“Mhmm,” Chris mumbles, leaning forward to steal a few more kisses. Jensen is almost tempted to just stay there but Chris has already started to shiver. He kisses Chris one last time before struggling to his feet, drying himself quickly before helping Chris stand up. Chris seems to have given himself over to being coddled for once, he stands swaying as Jensen rubs first his body with the fluffy towel, then pushes him down on the closed toilet and moves on to his hair.
Chris’s hair curls as it dries. It’s glorious. Jensen wants to bury his face in all those curls, just breathe in the smell of him and burrow in the safe jungle of his mane. But first he better get Chris back to bed before he falls asleep. He helps Chris put on the t-shirt and underwear he’d gotten ready earlier then wraps a towel around his own waist and helps Chris to his feet.
Chris is half comatose by the time Jensen has tucked him in, but he still reaches for Jensen’s hand as he turns to leave, mumbling, “C’mere,” and “Just one more,” and there’s no way Jensen can say no to that. He slips under the covers, wriggling out of the damp towel and dropping it on the floor by the bed before snuggling in close. Chris pulls him in for a kiss, ending up dragging Jensen half on top of him. They kiss until Jensen starts feeling out of breath and lets go of Chris’s lips, kissing his way to his neck, and then finally he’s nuzzling into the soft nest of Chris’s curly mane. Chris wraps his arms around him, humming happily into his ear, quieter and quieter until he falls silent, his breathing slow and steady, his heart beating a soothing lullaby under Jensen’s ear.
Jensen keeps telling Chris he’s alright, he doesn’t need a chaperon, he’s gonna be on stage most of the time and he’ll just take his break by himself, it’s fine. His eyes blinking rapidly and hands twitching by his side.
“An’ I’m gonna be right there to make sure you do,” Chris soothes him.
When Jensen opens his mouth as if to argue again, Chris shuts him up with a kiss. Not that he can blame the kid for being worried, yesterday is a foggy memory of sleep and nausea and fighting with Steve over… something. He can’t remember. Steve was on edge this morning before making a hasty farewell, so Chris guesses it had something to do with his relationship with Jensen, even if he thought they’d sorted that out already. He’s still tired – Oh god, so tired! – and everything is a little fuzzy around the edges. Just getting dressed was an ordeal. But sleep and food (and not being allowed a single drink) helps the meds not kick his ass quite as spectacularly. He still f*cking hates them.
“I’m fine, darlin’,” he reassures Jensen, lingering a few steps ahead of Chris in the spiral staircase, ready to catch him if he should lose his footing and tumble down.
And he is, mostly. The only thing really bothering him is the cool knowledge of love in his head whenever he looks at Jensen, instead of the warm all-consuming emotion that should be in his heart. He’s been down this road before – well, not with love but with other feelings becoming but a dull memory of what they should be – so he knows it will get better. Still, he can’t help fearing, what if it won’t? What if this is how it has to be if he’s to keep his brain from crashing all the time? He hates that he can’t function unless pumped full with chemicals. Every time he thinks he can do it on his own, sooner or later the truth knocks him over. This time he got a nice run, he’d gone off the antidepressants because he’d wanted to be able to feel properly again, to see Jensen smile and feel this warmth in his chest, knowing he’d do anything for that boy. Or watch him cry and know he’d kill for him if that’s what it comes to. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. This, this scares him. This numbness, this absence of emotions, when Jensen deserves to have someone love him completely, constantly, with nothing holding them back.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says when he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, panting from the exertion.
“For what?” Jensen asks, looking genuinely bewildered.
“This damn mess. You deserve better.”
Jensen just looks at him. “Sometimes you make me wanna cry, you know that?”
“What? Why?”
Jensen shrugs. “You just do. You say stuff like that and…” He breathes out. “What I’ve been told I deserve… Well, I’m not gonna repeat it but it sure wasn’t good, let alone better. You… You’re the only one who seems to think I’m worth a damn thing.”
Well, f*ck, now Chris wants to cry. “Ain’t your fault people are stupid so don‘t you listen to them. I say you’re worth a hundred of any of those sorry ass bastards that tried to put you down. Alright?”
Jensen grins and ducks his head. “Alright.” He looks up, eyes suddenly serious. “You too. f*ck those fine folks.”
Before Chris can ask him what he means they’re out in the throng of people, pushing their way slowly but steadily to the booth. Lori comes over with a co*ke for Jensen and a whiskey for Chris which he waves off, to her astonishment, and asks for a soda. It’s worth the embarrassment for the proud look on Jensen’s face.
This time Jensen is the one to help Chris on stage. It’s damn humiliating but apart from a few curious glances no one seems to notice. He really should see about fixing an easier way up there. While Jensen hauls the stool over and gets out his guitar, Chris taps the mic, looking down at the sea of excited faces. He swears there are even more than last time. The kid is becoming a real superstar. In the tiny queer community this cruel city hasn’t managed to chase away, but still.
“How y’all doin’, my lovelies?” he says into the mic, cringing over his weak voice. “Sorry for last night, was feelin’ a bit under the weather. I trust my man Steve took good care of you.” He nods when the crowd applauses.
“Missed you, hotshot!” someone yells and he can’t help the smile splitting his face.
“Missed you sad f*ckers as well.” He glances back at Jensen who gives him a thumbs up even if he looks a bit nervous. “Maybe I’ll join our new favorite for a couple of songs after the break, if that’s alright?”
The crowd breaks out in cheers and his heart clenches in his chest, even more when he looks at Jensen whose smiling from ear to ear, like it’s his dream come true. Chris has to clear his throat before he turns back to the crowd.
“But y’all ain’t here to see my sorry old mug. He’s been a bit battered, like you know, but now he’s ready and good to go. Same rules as last time. Rude motherf*ckers will be thrown out, preferably with my foot up their ass. And that ain’t an invitation for those of y’all who like that sort of thing!” He grins when people laugh. “Alright, alright. Settle down. I’m gonna get off stage and let y’all enjoy the show.”
He adjusts the mic for Jensen, squeezing his shoulder lightly before jumping off stage, which is a stupid move because he stumbles and would have fallen on his face if Lori hadn’t been there to catch him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but she just smiles like it’s nothing.
“Hi again,” Jensen says into the mic, blushing and ducking his head when the crowd whistles and applauds. “Hope you don’t mind me starting a bit easy. Been told you liked that last time. Can’t remember much of it myself but… yeah.”
Chris sits sipping his soda while gazing at Jensen with what he will happily admit are unashamed heart-eyes. God, he’s just so beautiful, with the soft light caressing his face, his long eyelashes casting shadows upon his cheeks, full lips glistening from his tongue occasionally darting out to wet them. Chris wishes he was an artist so he could capture that beauty in some form. Maybe he can write a song. And yes, he’s fully aware of how sappy that sounds but guess that’s what he is now, a big old sap.
He's so mesmerized he almost snaps in anger when Lorna slips into the booth, startling him. Probably would have if he weren’t so damn doped up. Can’t she see he’s busy?
“You stood me up,” she says, giving him a speculative look. “But I forgive you, seeing as you‘re a right mess. And I’m not talking about your obvious love for that pretty, pretty boy.”
“I’m fine,” Chris grumbles. He’s not discussing the other thing.
“Sure you are.” She tilts her head, studying him. “Judging from your pupils I’d say you’ve got one hell of a co*cktail in your system.” She smiles when he frowns at her. “I’m an ER doctor. Not dressed like this obviously,” she says, waving at herself. “They’d fire my fabulous ass if they knew. Outside these walls I’m as dull and drab as a f*cking accountant.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Chris says, hating this damn world and all its f*cking bigots. “That’s their loss. Although I bet you look fabulous however you dress.”
She smiles. “Ain’t you sweet.” She grins. “Bet you’d be fabulous yourself in a dress and a pair of heels.”
He laughs, cheeks turning slightly warm. “Don’t know ‘bout that. I’m more of a jeans and boots kinda guy.” He glances up at the stage where Jensen is singing a sweet country song, and smiles.
She follows his gaze. “Mhmm. Now there’s a boy who’d look beautiful in anything. Or nothing.”
He scowls. “Watch it.”
“Relax, honey,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I don’t play for your team. He’d make a beautiful girl but he ain’t one as far as I know so he’s all yours. Now about those attacks…”
Chris frowns. “I don’t know much. Just heard stuff. And then… yeah. Jensen.”
He looks back up at his beautiful boy. Just thinking of what they did to him makes him wish he wasn’t on all those f*cking meds because he wants to feel the rage rush through his veins, feel it burn in his chest as he beats those f*cking rapists into a bloody pulp. Just feel their bones snapping under his knuckles, blood vessels burst from the force of his fists. See the light go out in their eyes as–
“You okay, honey?”
He snaps back to the present, noticing his harsh breathing, how his fingers are curled into fists, the knuckles white. Guess the drugs can’t keep it all down. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “’M fine. What you know?”
She sighs. “Too much. You don’t wanna hear what I’ve seen brought in. Let’s just say, your boy was lucky. Some of them…” She looks away. “Well, we won’t be seeing them in here ever again. Too badly broken, inside out, or just plain dead. And the cops care f*ck all.”
Chris’s nostrils flare. Now he’s thinking about what could have happened to Jensen. What did happen to him when he was too young and small to fight back. And the ‘others’ Jensen had mentioned but not elaborated on, what the f*ck had they done to him? If Chris could only get his hands on them…
Except, he had, hadn’t he? And he’d let them get away with just a few f*cking bruises when he should have f*cking killed them! Then they wouldn’t have been able to go after Jensen again and they wouldn’t have, they wouldn’t …
“Hey! Are you with me?” Lorna snaps her hand back from his arm when he snarls, startled by her touch, and accidentally knocks his drink, spilling it across the table. “Whoa, calm down! You look like you’re gonna burst a goddamn vessel.”
He curls his hands into fists, screwing his eyes shut as he tries to breathe himself calm. In, out. In, out. It doesn’t work. f*ck! What the f*ck is happening to him? He was supposed to have it under control. He was supposed to be better!
“You need to get away from him,” he hears Matt say and then Lorna’s sliding quickly out of the booth, like she’s being pulled. When Chris opens his eyes and looks up, Matt has shoved her behind him, which on any other day would have been hilarious because she’s got at least six inches on him, not counting her heels. “Boss, calm the f*ck down!”
Chris snarls, furious by the implication that he might hurt her. How dare he? Chris has never in his life hurt a woman. Never! But f*ck does he want to put his fist in Matt’s stupid face right now. His heart is hammering really fast. It’s starting to hurt. He presses his fist against his sternum, eyes blinking furiously.
“You okay?” Matt asks, sounding alarmed. “Boss?”
He shakes his head. f*ck, it hurts! He closes his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose, afraid that if he opens his mouth he’ll throw up.
“Chris, sshh, it’s alright. I’m right here. Breathe with me.” He’d know that voice anywhere, and he’d know those fingers, uncurling his fists, holding him gently by the wrists and pressing one palm to a skinny chest. “In, out. In, out.”
He breathes and fights the urge to jump up, run out and find something to punch, even if it’s just a wall. He can hear Matt and Lorna talking, his voice anxious and angry, hers calmer and reassuring. All the while Jensen breathes slowly and murmurs loving encouragements into his ear. When he finally dares open his eyes, Jensen is sitting pressed up against him, smiling softly, Matt is gone, but Lorna sits on the other side of the booth, watching them.
“There you are,” Jensen says and tucks Chris’s hair lovingly behind his ears. “Feel better?”
Chris nods. He’s still breathing a little too fast, but his heart is slowing down, and his muscles are gradually uncoiling. “How d’you know?”
Jensen shrugs. “Was keeping an eye on you, just in case.”
“For me goin’ f*ckin’ crazy,” Chris rasps.
“You had an episode,” Jensen rectifies. “That’s all it is. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”
Chris drops his forehead into the palms of his hands, his elbows soaking up the spill on the table. The adrenaline crash is coming on fast. He might need to lie down. “f*ck. I’m sorry, darlin’. I ain’t good. I ain’t good at all.”
“You’re plenty good,” Jensen soothes him. “We just need to get your meds balanced. And maybe try and stay away from things that make you lose your temper. What was it this time?”
“Nothin’,” Chris lies instantly, horrified by the idea of Jensen knowing what he’d been thinking about.
“We were just talking about the attacks,” Lorna unhelpfully shoots in. “Think he’s taking them a bit personally.”
Damn.
Jensen looks at him, eyes gone sad and guilty. “So, me again?”
Chris grabs his hand, kissing the knuckles of each finger. “Not you, darlin’. Them. Makes me hoppin’ mad, is all, thinkin’ about’em out there, what they might do to you, to any of them people in here.” He looks up at Lorna. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Think I might not be the best person to do… whatever it is you think we can do. Like you said, I’m a f*ckin’ mess.”
“Hmm.” She tilts her head, studying him. “This why you were ‘under the weather’? I am a doctor,” she reminds him when he scowls. “Nothing you tell me will go further.”
He hesitates but at Jensen’s encouraging nod he relents with a sigh. “Sort of. And, and depression,” he adds reluctantly when Jensen nudges him. “Kinda crashed.”
“Hmm,” she says again. “Acquired or genetic? Your mood disorder, I mean.”
“Genetic. My old man. I take pills,” he says, feeling defensive the way she’s watching him, like he’s a damn specimen under a microscope. “Just sometimes they don’t quite cut it.”
“What are you taking?” When he tells her she frowns. “Okay, you might need to switch,” she says and Jensen’s head snaps to her, eyes bright with hope. “Been taking those long?”
Chris shrugs. “Six years. On and off,” he admits grudgingly. “I don’t like how they make me feel.”
“How do they make you feel?” she asks curious.
“Sick, dizzy, dog-tired.” He swallows. “Dead.”
“Hmm. Well, not my field of expertise, but I know there’ve been advances in treating this kind of disorder. Have you talked to your doctor recently?”
Chris shakes his head. “Been a few years. Six,” he admits when she raises her eyebrow.
She stares at him. “You telling me you just took the first drug they handed you and never went back?”
He squirms. “Saw no reason to. They work.”
“But he hates them,” Jensen pipes up. “He hates the antidepressants, too. He says they make him feel empty.”
Chris drops his head on the table, remembering too late the puddle of soda. Grumbling he wipes his forehead on his sleeve.
“Sorry,” Jensen says, not sounding sorry at all, “but that’s what you told me. He’s got almost no appetite and he drinks way too much. He’s supposed to be taking antianxiety meds as well, I think. And he hasn’t seen his therapist in months. I’m sorry,” he says again when Chris glares at him. “But you need to take better care of yourself. I need you to take better care of yourself.”
Chris’s annoyance deflates. “I know, darlin’. I’m sorry.” He sighs. “You really think somethin’ else might work better?” he asks Lorna.
“I know most people have to try a few different medications before they find their right fit. And even then they might have to change again later. Brains are complicated, there’s no one-size-fits-all solution.”
“Huh.” He can feel a spark of hope in his heart and carefully quells it, for now.
“But your boy is right, you need to see your therapist. Let them know what’s been going on. Talkative therapy is crucial in treating mood disorders.”
He sighs again. “I know. I will. Thank you.”
“No problem. Consider it a freebee,” she says and winks.
“None of that.” He waves Lori over. “Get this lady whatever she wants. On the house.”
Lorna grins. “Even better. The most expensive co*cktail you’ve got,” she tells Lori who looks to Chris for confirmation.
He nods. It’s worth it. Worth a dozen of them if she’s right.
Lorna leans over and covers Chris’s hand with her own. “We’ll talk later, alright? You’re the only one we’ve got,” she adds quietly when he makes to argue that he’s no good for whatever she’s thinking.
He gives in and nods, but he has his doubts. What the hell is he supposed to do? Prowl the streets, like a goddamn vigilante? Capes aren’t exactly his style.
“You alright?” Jensen asks, fidgeting beside him. “Want me to help you upstairs?”
Chris shakes his head. He’s tired, drained even, but he’s not leaving Jensen here on his own. Plus, he doesn’t want to miss the rest of the show. Speaking of which. “You just ran off stage in the middle of your gig?”
Jensen looks at him like he’s stupid, which sure, he is, most of the time. “Well, duh! Could see you were heading into trouble, even without Matt jumping over the bar and bulldozing his way over. Wasn’t gonna let you deal with that on your own.”
The warm feeling in his chest is almost enough to make him tear up. “Thank you, darlin’. But I’m alright now. I’m just gonna sit here, enjoy the show. But you better get up there again ‘fore your fans revolt.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “You’ve got no idea how much these folks love you, man. If I went up there and told them sorry, I have to take you home to rest, not a one would have a problem with that. No, really,” he insists when Chris huffs in disbelief. “You’re their goddamn hero.”
“I ain’t no one’s hero,” Chris grumbles.
“You’re mine,” Jensen says and kisses him, one hand on his neck, tugging at his hair. “My big goddamn hero,” he breathes into Chris’s mouth and God, that’s it. Chris pulls him as tight as he can manage in the confined space of the booth, kissing him hard and needy, his heart thumping in his chest when Jensen melts into his arms, into his mouth, breathing out small noises between kisses like he’s begging for more. He forgets where they are, that there are people watching; in his mind they’re alone and nothing else matters.
It isn’t until Jensen starts laughing breathlessly while pushing weakly against his chest, saying, “Chris, I need to get back. Chris! We can’t! Not here!” that he comes back to his senses, flushed and embarrassed, and pulls back his hand that was heading down Jensen’s pants.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry. You just…” He breathes out. “Later?”
“You bet,” Jensen says, grinning. “I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time. You, me, naked in bed,” he whispers into Chris’s ear and then he’s gone, bouncing up on stage like he didn’t just cause Chris’s brain to leak out his ears.
The next hour is a bit of a blur because he just can’t stop thinking about it. Jensen naked, Jensen sprawled out on his bed, grinning up at him, Jensen wide-eyed, skin glistening with sweat. He imagines what Jensen will sound like when Chris takes his dick into his mouth, when he licks his balls, when he breeches him with his fingers, when he pushes into him for the first time, when he f*cks him slowly, carefully, when he comes… Oh God, what will Jensen sound like when he comes? The same as when he got himself off or will it be louder?
He's so lost in his fantasies Jensen has to yell his name a few times before he realizes he’s being called up on stage.
“Stop the dirty daydreaming for a moment and come up here and sing with me. You promised,” Jensen says in a stern voice when Chris tries to protest. “Right?” Jensen asks the crowd that hollers and cheers in agreement, even if Chris did no such thing. He said maybe, and that was before he had his freak out. “We’ll do a slow one,” Jensen promises, like he can tell what he’s thinking, and then he’s giving Chris those big puppy eyes that he's probably figured out by now that Chris can’t say no to. Beautiful little f*cker.
Chris slides out of the booth, grumbling that he hasn’t even had any whiskey, but Jensen’s smile as he watches Chris approach the stage is enough to make him forget all about how tired he is, how out of sorts, how goddamn sober. He accepts Jensen’s hand, helping him up on stage, giving Jensen a quick kiss that has the audience whistling, before sitting down on the extra stool Jensen dragged over.
“We can share the mic,” Jensen says, bright with excitement. “What you wanna sing?”
“Nothin’ too demandin’,” Chris begs. “And don’t blame me if I’m sh*t.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jensen assures him. He starts strumming, the first keys to More Than I Deserve[g1] and Chris can’t help smiling.
“You feelin’ romantic, darlin’?” he asks, forgetting the mic is picking up everything they say.
“When I’m with you,” Jensen answers, smiling so widely Chris’s breath stutters in his chest.
The resulting cheers and wolf whistles make him blush, and he glowers out at the room, growling, “Behave, y’all!” which only makes them cheer louder. Well, if there were some that hadn’t quite gotten the message, guess they have now. He’s queer as hell and madly in love with a beautiful boy with the voice of an angel.
Jensen starts, all quiet and slow. Chris joins in when it’s his turn and damn, they do sound good together, as far as he can tell. Jensen’s liquid voice against Chris’s rougher one, torn up by years of whiskey running down his throat. When it’s time for the chorus they both lean into the mic, so close they might as well kiss, so when the opportunity rises, with a slight pause before the next verse, Chris snatches it, kissing Jensen softly, smiling when Jensen laughs happily into his mouth.
And Chris thinks, whatever he has to do, whatever drugs he has to take, he’ll do it all if he can just have this for the rest of his life.
They stumble to the bedroom, laughing and jittery with nerves, at least Jensen is. He feels like he’s just drunk fifteen cups of coffee, half of them laced with bourbon. Every nerve in his body is tingling, his heart is hammering in his chest and his stomach keeps threatening to crawl its way up his throat. But f*ck, his dick is not backing down at all, which made the short trek up to the apartment an uncomfortable and embarrassing affair.
“f*ck, darlin’, so beautiful, so damn hot,” Chris keeps murmuring between kissing him frantically. “Love you so much. Wanna show you. Lemme, lemme…”
Chris pulls off Jensen’s t-shirt, slipping it up his torso, hands running up Jensen’s arms, the palms warm and gentle and maddening. He kisses Jensen’s shoulder, his collarbone, the line of his jaw, so softly it feels like petals falling on his skin. Even when he’s unbuttoning Jensen’s jeans, unzipping his zipper, tugging his jeans down past his hips, he touches each inch that becomes accessible so gently, as if Jensen’s fragile, as if Chris might tear holes in Jensen’s skin if he’s not careful and God, Jensen loves him for it but he’s not fragile, he’s not brittle. These are the bruises that he’d carry with pride: Chris’s fingerprints on his wrists, the mark of Chris’s tight grip on his shoulder, his hip; the souvenir from Chris’s lips, sucking on his neck.
“So beautiful,” Chris repeats and he sounds reverent, awestruck, lips parted as if on a prayer. “f*ck, darlin’, I love you so much.”
Jensen gasps, feeling like he’s on fire and Chris’s touches are cool streams of water, running over his skin. He whispers, “Want you,” into Chris’s hair and Chris pushes him back with a growl. Jensen is still bouncing on the bed when Chris slips to his knees and warm moist air engulfs Jensen’s dick through the thin layer of cotton.
Oh God! Hot and wet and soft licks and suction and…
Jensen mewls, hands fisting the covers because, oh God it’s so good, so goddamn f*cking good. Chris straightens up and pulls Jensen’s boxer briefs down in one swift motion and then he’s swallowing Jensen’s dick into the hot wet cavern of his mouth and oh God, oh God, oh God…. Jensen can’t think, he can’t do anything but gasp and moan in wonder. He never imagined it felt like this! Oh God. No wonder everyone keeps wanting him to–
He jerks back, gasping, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but Chris either doesn’t understand or doesn’t hear him because he just swirls his tongue around the head of Jensen’s co*ck in the heat of his mouth and it’s so good, so damn good, Jensen stops breathing. Through a haze he feels Chris rolling his balls in the palm of his hand, his warm fingers so gentle, like he knows how sensitive they are. There’s a shock of cold air as Chris lets Jensen’s dick slip out of his mouth, then incredible wet heat surrounds Jensen’s balls as they’re sucked into Chris’s mouth and rolled around on his tongue.
Jensen’s brain short-circuits.
When he comes back, Chris’s thumb and index finger are circling the base of his co*ck, stroking lightly as Chris sucks on the head, tongue prodding the slit. He hums, laughing softly when Jensen whimpers, then keeps stroking and sucking until Jensen is sure he’s going insane. He’s babbling, begging for more, please, please. Forgetting in his need why it’s all wrong.
Chris’s fingers curl into a fist, tightening the grip, jerking him for earnest, just like Jensen told him he liked it, before swallowing Jensen’s dick and sucking it hard, deep into his throat. It’s the fact that Chris listened and remembered, as much as how incredibly, amazingly, heavenly good it all feels, that pushes Jensen over the edge. He doesn’t even have time to warn Chris, suddenly he’s just arching off the bed, crying out as he’s coming down Chris’s throat. Chris doesn’t pull back, he just keeps on, sucking and then licking, lighter and lighter, kitten-licking the head of Jensen’s dick until, finally, even that becomes too much and Jensen whines as he fumbles to put his hand between himself and Chris’s mouth.
Chris moves down to kiss Jensen’s inner thigh. “Use your words, darlin’,” he murmurs, sounding only a little out of breath. “Gotta learn to tell me what you want.”
“Too much,” Jensen whimpers.
“Alright, baby. You just taste so sweet, I could lick you all night.” Chris crawls up on the bed and leans over him, cradling Jensen’s head in his strong hands before kissing him soft and deep. He tastes terrifyingly familiar, and shame crashes into Jensen with such force, tears spring into his eyes.
“Hey, no. Sshh, sshh. So good, you were so good, darlin’,” Chris soothes, his voice sounding a little broken, kissing Jensen’s neck, his ear, his shoulder. “So sweet, my boy, taste so damn good.”
Jensen shakes his head. This time he’s the one who made… He… Oh God.
Chris kisses him gently. “Baby, talk to me.” He sounds worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“I’m sorry.”
There’s a brief silence. “What?”
Jensen swallows. It was so good and he’s a f*cking monster! “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’m sorry.”
This time the silence is longer and when Chris finally speaks his voice sounds strangled. “Darlin’, I didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t want to, alright?”
Jensen blinks his eyes open, confused. “Why would you want to?”
Fierce hatred flashes in Chris’s eyes, then pain, grief, sadness, before finally settling on something Jensen can’t interpret, like Chris is keeping his feelings carefully in check.
“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “Why wouldn’t I? I love you. I want to make you feel good. Why’d you think I did it?”
“I don’t know.” Jensen bites his lip. “Because you thought I’d like it?”
Chris breathes in carefully. “You didn’t like it?”
“No, I did! Of course I did! It was… God, I’ve never felt…” He pulls in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know it felt like that. Should have, why else would they– But I never meant to make you do it.”
“You didn’t make me do anythin’, alright?” Chris says, voice gentle but firm. “I did it ‘cause I wanted to. ‘Cause I wanted to make you feel good, ‘cause I like it, alright? I like havin’ your dick in my mouth, I like suckin’ you. I goddamn love it.”
“But it’s...” Jensen falters. “You don’t feel… degraded?”
“No. No, I don’t.” Chris brushes his cheek, eyes soft and sad. “But I get if you do. Your experience is goddamn awful, sweetheart. And I promise you, you never have to do it, ever again, if you don’t want to.” Chris kisses him softly. “Alright? You never have to do anythin’ you don’t want to.”
“It’s just…” Jensen bites his lip, shame coloring his cheeks. “I hate when they, when they just shove it down my throat and… It hurts, you know.”
Chris’s eyes cloud over for a moment. “Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely. “I know.”
“But when…” Jensen swallows. “When they let me… when I can… myself. I’m good at it. I’m good. And I… I don’t hate that. Even if I hate them, I don’t hate that. And I want to… for you.” He presses his lips together, cheeks burning.
“Sweetheart…” Chris pauses. He lifts himself up on his elbow, looking down at Jensen with concern. “You feelin’ ashamed ‘cause you wanna blow me?”
Jensen squeezes his eyes shut. Of course he’s ashamed. They all told him he was good for one thing and guess what, they were right.
“God, I could…” Air brushes his cheek as Chris breathes out violently through his nose. Jensen can hear him grind his teeth, can feel the tension run through his body before settling with a shudder. Then soft lips kiss his, light and careful.
“I’m glad you do,” Chris says quietly. “I’m glad they didn’t ruin that for you.” He runs his fingers through Jensen’s hair, sighing softly. “You know, I’ve had my bad run-ins,” he says and Jensen blinks his eyes open in surprise. He didn’t think Chris would ever mention that again. “Not like you but… Took me a long time to sort out in my head that I could like things that, that I hadn’t before. Makes all the difference bein’ in control. Doin’ things ‘cause you want to, not ‘cause… ‘cause someone else makes you.”
“I want to,” Jensen mumbles. The tight feeling in his chest is slowly loosening. “I wanna suck you. I’ve wanted to ever since I saw you on stage.”
A smile tugs at Chris’s lips. “I know. You told me. Repeatedly.”
Jensen blushes hot. God, he knew he’d been drunk but… “sh*t. I did?”
“Yep. You were real eager. So you wantin’ it don’t exactly surprise me.” Chris’s face softens. “And it definitely don’t shock or disgust me. Sex can be an amazin’ experience, darlin’, if you do it with the right people. I’m lookin’ forward to showin’ you just how amazin’ it can be.”
“I’m kinda scared about, about that,” Jensen admits. He wants to be good for Chris. He wants to be good. But…
“You set the pace. We just do whatever you feel like. You wanna f*ck me?” Chris asks him, like it’s nothing. “I love gettin’ f*cked. I don’t care if I never f*ck you. All I care about is you feelin’ good and safe and happy. Alright?”
Jensen stares at him. He feels hot all over. Somehow he never imagined… “But… I’ll hurt you.”
Chris shakes his head. “You won’t. I’ll show you how it’s supposed to be done. It will be fun.”
Jensen really doubts that. “I don’t know.”
Chris smiles. “You got plenty time to figure it out. There’s no rush. C’mon.” He drags Jensen with him higher up on the bed so their legs aren’t dangling over the edge. “I could do with some more kissin’, if that’s alright?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with time getting lost in the taste of lips and the heat of each other’s mouths. They kiss and Jensen feels Chris’s soft dick resting against his thigh and thinks, yeah, he does want. He wants to swallow Chris down, show him all the tricks he’s learned, feel him get hard in his mouth, feel the taste of him coating his tongue, because doing it for someone he loves – and God, Jensen does love him! –will make all the difference. He trusts Chris on that. Just like he trusts him with all the other stuff, when they get to that. He does. He just wishes he wasn’t so damn scared.
![Haven - felisblanco - Supernatural (TV 2005) RPF [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)