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Entry tags:
The Second Man, NC-17, Jensen/Jared, 9/9
<<--Back to Part Eight
A/N:So, here it is. The end. This part was the shortest but the hardest to write. I have endingophobia. Final word count, 86,022. So, I can't make any predictions. I just really hope you like it. Many thanks to my cowriter,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
captcrashsc and to ysbail for the banner. This last part is not beta'd. Surprise!
A/N2: A lot of Air Supply lyrics used in this part, obviously without permission. No copyright infringement intended. Also, lyrics from "Again" by Needtobreathe might be scattered in there at the beginning.
--Part Nine--
“Jared, sweetheart, don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?” His mom moves to pick the twenty dollar bill off the table where he left it for the waiter just a said waiter, a charming (and completely straight) young guy named Grant, returns with his credit card. Jared plucks the bill out of her grasp, choosing to ignore the ‘sweetheart’ she’s been tagging onto his name ever since he got control of his trust fund, and tucks it into Grant’s hand.
“No, mother, I don’t.”
“But our bill was only...” blah, blah, blah. Jared’s heard it all before. He’s too loose with his pocketbook. He’s going to run the family into the ground with his cockamamie schemes. He needs to be more frugal. Statements always served up with a healthy dosage of condescension in the form of one of the pet names she (and to a lesser extent, Daddy) have become so fond of. He doesn’t give a damn. It’s his money, and he has more of it than he’ll ever need. If one of their grand plans for the future should fall through the cracks, that’s not his problem anymore. He busies himself straightening his coat and retrieving his briefcase off the floor, finds himself trying not to listen too closely to the VIP lounge’s house musician. Jared’s been able to separate his memories of Jensen and those long nights on the porch with his guitar and raspy voice from the actuality of this somewhat older and more rehearsed dude strumming away on the tiny stage. But the guy’s just started doing a cover of a Needtobreathe song, and the lyrics keep prying into Jared’s thoughts, disrupting whatever stodgy professionalism he tries to maintain outside the comfort of his house and his sewing room.
Maybe I’m a fake, maybe you’re a lie.
Maybe our last chance died with last night.
Someone might as well have lit a fire under Jared’s chair. He lurches up abruptly, because, oh yeah, their car is probably waiting by now. He speeds things along by grabbing his mother’s purse off the table and heading for the door. “C’mon, Mom, the valet’s supposed to have the car ready in five minutes.
“I can carry my own purse,” she snaps, yanking it free of Jared’s clutches so the clasp pops open and all of her personal items fall out onto the floor. Great. The world really needs to know that his mother keeps Beano in her purse, or that she, apparently has not yet entered menopause. It’s no small feat to get down on his knees and retrieve all the --unmentionable-- items, but it’s obvious his mother’s not going to stoop that low, and the waitstaff, though ready and willing, shouldn’t have to do it.
I won’t be the first one you think to call.
You won’t be the regrets, that I can’t live with.
Fuck. Maybe it’s just being back in Austin again, knowing Bear Creek and Jensen are just a hop, skip, and a jump down the highway, but the lounge singer’s really got Jared’s number. He needs to get the fuck out of here, back to the life he’s building for himself, and far, far away from the never never land of Bear Creek, Texas.
Cause I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall in love
With you again.
Stupid singer. Stupid song. Random. Coincidence. No way that will ever happen. That was never real. This --VIP lounges and briefcases, business meetings and private planes-- is real. This is true. That’s lies. The end.
His phone vibrates in his breast pocket, an incoming text message, and he’s just preoccupied enough with swimming that river in Egypt that he jumps and whacks his head on the bottom of the table before sliding out and handing his mother her purse. He has no idea who the hell would be texting him. Most of his contacts would rather play phone tag with twenty different voicemail services than try to work that tiny keyboard. Glancing at the phone, he turns the display off, spins around, every hair on his body zinging to attention, glares into every corner of the room in search of whatever trickster is trying to sabotage his cool. There’s no one there that he can see, just some George Clooney wannabe at the bar with a woman in a Pretty Woman getup that’s probably not his wife.
Jared swallows, turns his gaze back down to his phone in halting increments, gripping it so tightly he feels the case start to give beneath his fingertips. He’s crazy. That’s all. His mother’s tweaked his last nerve, and that, on top of three major business meetings in as many days has made him hallucinate. He had amnesia once. For all he knows, that makes him predisposed to other... issues. Turning the screen back on full, he glances down again.
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
The lounge singer’s found his groove, starts to rail on his guitar, his voice a moaning whine layered over a desperate growl.
I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall.
I don’t wanna have to see you leave me.
Dropping the phone in his pocket, Jared takes his mother’s wrist and physically drags her out of the lounge.
Cause I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall in love...
They’re almost to the upper level and the valet station when his phone gets another text.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” his mother asks.
“No, I’m not.” He can’t. He really, really can’t.
--
“You’re sure this is the right number?” Jensen asks, ducking down to address Jeff Morgan, the limo driver, through the passenger door.
“Sure, I’m sure,” Morgan huffs. “You didn’ t really expect him to reply did you?” Checking his watch, Jeff says, “Look, he’s expecting me on the upper level in five minutes. You sure you wanna go through with this?”
“Damn straight, I’m sure,” Jensen says. Turning to Danneel, he adds, “Thanks for helping us set this up. You don’t know what it means.”
She rests one hand on his shoulder, smooths over his bicep with the other, stopping to pick at the short sleeve of his tee the way she always used to when he was about to go onstage. “I’m just glad I could help. Lucky for you I work here, airport security being what it is.”
“Lucky doesn’t even begin...” Jensen shakes his head. He can’t believe all the seemingly insurmountable obstacles that have seemed to magically vaporize to make all this possible, beginning with a call to Jeff Morgan and ending with his ex getting all of his people planted inside the parking garage. Danneel always did have a thing for fast cars, but still, he never pictured her working as a valet. The Gods of Serendipity are either smiling on him or laughing their asses off for having put him through the Hell that got him here. Either way, he’s not complaining. At least, not until after this is over.
“I only ever wanted you to be happy,” she says, kissing him on the cheek.
“I know that now.” Jensen ducks his gaze.
“C’mon. Let’s go get your boy back.” She tosses her head toward the service entrance of the parking garage.
“God, yes.” Leaning into the open limo, Jensen shakes Jeffrey’s hand, feels his eyes start to crinkle in the corners as he smiles. “Give us twenty minutes, then,” he jerks a thumb upward, “top level. Got it?”
“You got it,” Jeff agrees, tipping his cap. He turns the key in the ignition, reaches for the gear shifter, pauses. “Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let him tell you no. I’ve never seen him happier than he was with you. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” Jensen smirks. “I kicked Kane’s ass enough for both of you. And believe me, I know when something’s too good to let go.” He leans out, smacks the roof of the car, and slams the door. When he turns around, Danneel’s holding the garage door open for him, the wind streaming her long hair across her face so she has to pull it back with long, painted fingers. Ever the gentleman, he takes the door from her, shields her from the wind so she can go in ahead of him.
“Let’s do this,” she says, and takes him up the stairs.
--
I was down my dreams were wearing thin.
When you're lost, where do you begin?
Jared reaches across the dash and changes the radio station. He so doesn’t need to be listening to Air Supply. He normally wouldn’t sit shotgun in the limo, but he has a deep and abiding urge to put a sheet of safety glass between himself and his mother. For her own protection. Speaking of whom, he can’t for the life of him figure out what’s taking her and Jeffrey so long to get all of her bags loaded in the trunk. He knows she’s particular, but they’ve been at it ten minutes already. Long enough for his phone to field three more text messages. Rather, three occurences of the same message. He just... He’s not going to reply. It could be anyone. Hell, it’s probably Chad. It’s not like everyone hasn’t seen those damned commercials. “Can you hear me now?” is just part of the vernacular these days. It’s stupid that he’s somehow let it become more than that. But if it’s not Chad texting him... Jared can’t reply. Not when he’s this close.
Besides, he can’t reply. He’s too busy changing the radio station. Huh. The radio station doesn’t switch. If anything, it gets louder. He reaches around Jeffrey’s cell phone where it’s mounted on the dash and hits a few presets. More of the same. He finally just turns the volume down so he can’t hear it anymore and slouches against the door.
Jeffrey slides in a minute later, promptly turns the volume back up again.
That the right time was so far away
To tell you the things I knew.
“What is this? Air Supply satellite radio?” Jared doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Hell, he had most of these songs on his iPod the last time he checked, but it seems the airwaves are determined to twang at a frequency only raw, exposed nerves can detect. Oh yeah, he’s detecting.
“It’s my phone,” Jeffrey shrugs. “Got one of those new jacks that wires the phone sound through the car speakers. Nifty gadget.”
“And your phone is playing music?”
“I’m on hold.”
They seem to be taking the long way around the terminal, or maybe they’re lost, spend another five minutes ignoring text messages and going nowhere, tuning out the lyrics of sappy love songs that make him want to go in for voluntary root canal, when Jared notices they’re following the signs into the secured private parking garage. “Didn’t we sign up for valet parking so we wouldn’t have to go through the garage?”
“Road construction all around the airport. This is the best exit. Don’t worry. I have friends who work here. We won’t get charged for driving through.”
“Good to know.” Jared massages his temples as another song streams through the speakers.
Sometimes I feel just a word away
You’ll say, oh how I miss you, too, I do.
When they hit the first roadblock and detour arrow, Jared’s willing to over look the inconvenience. When they run into two more and have to keep circling up to higher floors, he can’t help but point out. “I thought we came this way to avoid the roadblocks?”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jeffrey says. “Let’s see if this guy knows something.” By now they’re on the top level, and if the rest of the garage was mostly empty, there seems to be an unusual number of people just loitering around up here, valets if their attire is any clue. Jared finds it hard to believe it takes several dozen valets to manage the private parking, but what does he know? The closest one’s turned away from them, a tallish guy with sandy blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Jared can’t decide if he looks familiar or just cliche enough to seem so. Jeffrey rolls down the windows to get the dude’s attention, and it’s like the whole garage is supercooled from the icy chill that snakes down Jared’s spine.
Hold me in your arms for just another day
I promise this one will go slow...
Jeffrey’s cell is broadcasting over the PA system?
“What’s? What’s going on?” Jared’s hands fist in his slacks, convulsing tighter as the car stops and shuts off. The automatic door locks pop open, and the valet they were trying to flag down, turns. Shit, Jared knows him from... somewhere. The guy certainly seems to know him when he bends down and opens the door, holds it wide like he’s expecting Jared to get out. Jared whips his head around, finds Jeffrey slouched back against his door.
“I think this is your stop, kid.” He jerks his head toward the open door. “Go on. I don’t think he’ll bite.”
“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?”
It’s not a text message this time. It’s... everywhere. In the speakers of the car. On the PA system. Echoing off the walls. And the voice is...
Jared blinks hard, already know he’s losing the battle with his emotions, feels the next breath shudder its way down his windpipe as he stretches out one leg then the other, and steps out.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, the entire place comes to life.
When love is new,
and the world is not reaching for you.
The ‘valets’ he’s noticed loitering about the garage, suddenly come together in pairs, waltz across the floor, whirling and twirling like music box dancers.
You try hard to hold it all in your hands
but it slips through like soft drifting sand
Jared stands agape, hand pressed over his mouth, fighting to keep his legs from buckling under him. He loses the fight when someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns to find... Jensen. Jensen standing there in Jared’s space for the first time in five months, and Jared suddenly unable to remember why he can’t be there, why they can’t be here, or anywhere, together. He starts to tip back against the car, but Jensen braces him up with one hand clasped in Jared’s and the other strong against Jared’s shoulder blade, classical ballroom stance. “Can you hear me now?”
And counting the years,
is all I want to do.
Jared can’t find the words, probably because there are none. First time ever, he’s completely speechless. Instead he nods, a quick up and down, then lets Jensen sweep him away, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, into the throng of dancers.
Now and forever,
Remember the words from my heart will always be true.
And that’s it, isn’t it? Everything that’s gone down between them. Everything they’ve been through together. No matter what the pretense of it all, Jared knows, he just knows Jensen never wanted to hurt him, the same way he knows he’s a better person than he was before they met. He hears that. Loud and clear.
The song ends with Jared backed up against a pillar, his hands on Jensen’s hips, the applause of Jensen’s cast of dancers barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears as Jensen kisses him slow and deep. When they draw back, Jensen sheepishly sweeps a wrist across his swollen mouth, kicks his toe against Jared’s right ankle.
“You dance a lot better with two good legs.”
“It’s all about having the right partner,” Jared grins.
“Marry me?”
“Now and forever,” Jared whispers. And then it’s his turn to sweep Jensen off his feet.
--
“Fuck!” Jensen’s whole body seizes, fingers slip-sliding against the skin over Jared’s ribs, his thighs slick against Jared’s waist. His chest heaves, sucking in hot, moist breath against the crook of Jared’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. They were doing so well, managed to get this far without any awkward moments, and now he’s gone all... delicate or something. He just, hadn’t really expected...
“It’s all right,” Jared soothes, withdrawing his finger as he presses kisses against Jensen’s temple. And he means it. His hands massage their way up Jensen’s back, pull Jensen against him before Jared whispers into his ear. “So, um, you’ve never done this before?”
Jensen sighs, braces himself up enough so he’s looking down into Jared’s eyes, can’t resist tasting the sweat pooling in that little divot above his lip, brief nipping kiss kiss before he nods.
Jared slips his hands around Jensen’s waist, squeezes gently. “Dude, that’s nothing to be sorry for. Actually, I...” He ducks his eyes, sheepish grin that brings a blush to his cheeks. “I think it’s kinda hot.”
“You would, you toppy bastard,” Jensen retorts. And because he can, he slides his hands up Jared’s chest, tweaks his nipples before leaning back down and nipping along the edge of that strong jaw line while Jared moans and tips his head back. Jensen’s cock throbs where it’s trapped between them, and Jared’s butts up against him from behind, slick and insistent.
Rocking his hips, Jensen starts to lose himself in the ebb and flow, slides back a little farther, the small of his back hollowing out as Jared takes him by hips and nudges upwared in shallow thrusts along the crease of Jensen’s ass. It’s... fuck, it’s good, and Jensen’s bites move up until he’s nipping his way into Jared’s mouth, swallowing around that long, muscular tongue in time with the coil and recoil of their bodies.
Jared breaks it first, thrusting up with a gasp before he rasps out, “You know, I can... if it would be easier... you could.”
Jensen shakes his head, and, prying Jared’s fingers loose from his hips, he slides Jared’s hands back behind himself, presses his ass into them so he’s spread out and begging, cock giving a half-hearted spurt of pre-come against his belly. “When...” he pants, “When have I ever done anything half-assed?”
Jared squeezes, groaning as he drags Jensen’s ass back against his cock for better friction, all the while shaking his head. “Dun wanna hurt...” hard swallow that looses a trickle of sweat over his Adam’s apple, “It’ll hurt.”
“I don’t care.” Jensen punctuates with a hard press back, sits up to brace his hands against Jared’s thighs, and rolls his hips, cock slapping against his stomach while Jared’s slides against his ass. He opens his eyes fully from slits and pauses, waits for Jared to meet his gaze. “I don’t want any barriers between us ever again. No lies. No fear. No pain. Okay?” Jared’s fingers tighten and release, massaging deep into Jensen’s ass cheeks, eyes bright with emotion before he finally nods.
“Okay.” A grunt as he tosses his head back, stills the thrusting with considerable effort. “O-okay.”
Everything blurs from there, into sweat-stung eyes, twisting, groping fingers, push and pull and stretch, all balancing on a the razor thin line between pain and pleasure. Too much to press farther. Too little to stop. And when it finally happens, hot, tight flesh spread wide over slick latex, Jared’s holding Jensen up, won’t let him slide down too fast, strong hands at the end of bulging forearms, biceps and chest tight and straining, his eyes soft and wide.
Jensen trembles, thighs quivering as he tries to brace himself up against the intrusion, ice, ice, ice, all the way up in his chest, his whole body shivering, torn between withdrawing and drawing in, pulling tighter and letting go. Halting, minute increment by gradual inch, he bottoms out, and takes ever deepening breaths as the glacier recedes from his chest, trickling down as the heat rises. Finally he moves, just an inch up and down, then a little more, and Jared cants his hips, smooths a hand over the tight muscles in Jensen’s stomach, encircles his flagging cock. Eventually the fire’s stoked beyond capacity, makes the leap up his veins, crackling along his spine, and the rhythm takes over.
Jensen’s thankful for the twenty racks of clothing packed into Jared’s room when he can’t squelch the moans ripping from his throat. He drives harder and faster, the muscles in his legs and hips burning with exertion, bottom lip bitten to near bloody. Suddenly the world spins, and he’s pinned underneath Jared his knee tight against his chest, and Jared’s sweat-soaked bangs dangle against Jensen’s forehead. He never imagined himself in this position, has half a mind to protest, but then Jared starts to move.
Jensen doesn’t know how Jared does it, keeps building that roiling pounding motion without barely any air squeezing between them. “God, fuck!” Every squeak of the mattress elicits another exploding jolt deep inside that pings around between Jensen’s hip bones before reverberating through his entire body, keeping him gasping and writhing, begging without words, his jaw drawn open, chin tilted toward the ceiling. He feels like every hair on his body’s a lightning rod, and the air’s crackling with positive charge. Just. One. More.
“Aaah...” Jared rears forward, Jensen’s leg high over his shoulder, Jared’s hand tight behind his knee as his face pinches tight along the leading edge of his orgasm, his thrusts growing shallow and stilted. Through hot, panting breaths, he says, “Come with me. C’mon, Jensen. Wanna see you,” and out of nowhere a thumb presses into the divot behind Jensen’s balls, into skin already stretched tight and aching. It might as well be the detonator switch on a ton of C2.
Jensen arches up, “gh, gh, nngh,” comes in long spurts against Jared’s chest while the world slips out of focus.
He opens his eyes to Jared kissing the moisture from his cheeks, teasing at the corners of Jensen’s swollen lips. Jensen smiles, loose and blissed out, swipes weakly at Jared’s shoulder. “One crack about popping my cherry, and I’m never cooking for you again.”
“Just admit it,” Jared chuckles against the shell of his ear, still rolling languidly between his legs, dick spent and flagging against Jensen’s thigh. “Mmm, you always wanted to be the mommy.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hmm, anytime. Just give me a little time to recover first.”
Jensen stretches out, slides his arms around Jared’s shoulder. “Tell you what? I’ll give you until morning.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jensen’s almost asleep when the words rumble up his throat. “This is really all yours, huh?”
“It is now,” Jared snuffles against his neck. Then he adds, “Ours.”
“Y’know Indy’s gonna love swinging from that chanedelier in the main house.”
A mufled laugh. “I hope he does.” Then, after a pause. “You think the kids will like it here? They’ll be leaving their home.”
“Home’s just the place you park your family,” Jensen sighs into Jared’s hair. “As far as we’re concerned, that’s wherever you are.” The next part’s half snore, half mumble, but entirely sincere. “Can you hear me now?”
“I love you, too.”
banner by the lovelyysbail.
A/N: So, there you have it. The end. A whole year of pulling out our hair and putting it aside for other projects, a week or so of torture for all of you, and this is how it ends up. *shrugs* I know it's cheesy. C'mon, you saw the movie, right? The whole, "Katarina!"... "Arturo!" exchange just wouldn't work here. The actual idea for the parking garage scene came from a video one of my friends sent me the link to on Youtube wherein a whole transit station breaks into song and dance, and sap that I am, I totally teared up watching it. I figured, with the popularity of Glee, High School Musical, etc, etc, and so forth, it couldn't hurt to at least try the big Hollywood musical ending here. That being said, I've never loved a story more or had the most doubt about how it would go over as I do this one. So, if you have a minute...
That being said, thanks to everyone who's been following along as I post. I'll wait on y'all's verdict before I crosspost, and if you feel it's safe to crosspost, I'll probably do that tonight or tomorrow. I want to compile a more complete author's note and possibly a soundtrack before I finish the master post. Also, it's probably going to take me awhile to get the Dreamwidth posts caught up, because hubby wants to go visiting again today.
Thanks so much for all your support. Any and all criticism appreciated. Anonymous comments are welcome. They will just be screened until I reply.
A/N:So, here it is. The end. This part was the shortest but the hardest to write. I have endingophobia. Final word count, 86,022. So, I can't make any predictions. I just really hope you like it. Many thanks to my cowriter,
captcrashsc and to ysbail for the banner. This last part is not beta'd. Surprise!A/N2: A lot of Air Supply lyrics used in this part, obviously without permission. No copyright infringement intended. Also, lyrics from "Again" by Needtobreathe might be scattered in there at the beginning.
“Jared, sweetheart, don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?” His mom moves to pick the twenty dollar bill off the table where he left it for the waiter just a said waiter, a charming (and completely straight) young guy named Grant, returns with his credit card. Jared plucks the bill out of her grasp, choosing to ignore the ‘sweetheart’ she’s been tagging onto his name ever since he got control of his trust fund, and tucks it into Grant’s hand.
“No, mother, I don’t.”
“But our bill was only...” blah, blah, blah. Jared’s heard it all before. He’s too loose with his pocketbook. He’s going to run the family into the ground with his cockamamie schemes. He needs to be more frugal. Statements always served up with a healthy dosage of condescension in the form of one of the pet names she (and to a lesser extent, Daddy) have become so fond of. He doesn’t give a damn. It’s his money, and he has more of it than he’ll ever need. If one of their grand plans for the future should fall through the cracks, that’s not his problem anymore. He busies himself straightening his coat and retrieving his briefcase off the floor, finds himself trying not to listen too closely to the VIP lounge’s house musician. Jared’s been able to separate his memories of Jensen and those long nights on the porch with his guitar and raspy voice from the actuality of this somewhat older and more rehearsed dude strumming away on the tiny stage. But the guy’s just started doing a cover of a Needtobreathe song, and the lyrics keep prying into Jared’s thoughts, disrupting whatever stodgy professionalism he tries to maintain outside the comfort of his house and his sewing room.
Maybe I’m a fake, maybe you’re a lie.
Maybe our last chance died with last night.
Someone might as well have lit a fire under Jared’s chair. He lurches up abruptly, because, oh yeah, their car is probably waiting by now. He speeds things along by grabbing his mother’s purse off the table and heading for the door. “C’mon, Mom, the valet’s supposed to have the car ready in five minutes.
“I can carry my own purse,” she snaps, yanking it free of Jared’s clutches so the clasp pops open and all of her personal items fall out onto the floor. Great. The world really needs to know that his mother keeps Beano in her purse, or that she, apparently has not yet entered menopause. It’s no small feat to get down on his knees and retrieve all the --unmentionable-- items, but it’s obvious his mother’s not going to stoop that low, and the waitstaff, though ready and willing, shouldn’t have to do it.
I won’t be the first one you think to call.
You won’t be the regrets, that I can’t live with.
Fuck. Maybe it’s just being back in Austin again, knowing Bear Creek and Jensen are just a hop, skip, and a jump down the highway, but the lounge singer’s really got Jared’s number. He needs to get the fuck out of here, back to the life he’s building for himself, and far, far away from the never never land of Bear Creek, Texas.
Cause I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall in love
With you again.
Stupid singer. Stupid song. Random. Coincidence. No way that will ever happen. That was never real. This --VIP lounges and briefcases, business meetings and private planes-- is real. This is true. That’s lies. The end.
His phone vibrates in his breast pocket, an incoming text message, and he’s just preoccupied enough with swimming that river in Egypt that he jumps and whacks his head on the bottom of the table before sliding out and handing his mother her purse. He has no idea who the hell would be texting him. Most of his contacts would rather play phone tag with twenty different voicemail services than try to work that tiny keyboard. Glancing at the phone, he turns the display off, spins around, every hair on his body zinging to attention, glares into every corner of the room in search of whatever trickster is trying to sabotage his cool. There’s no one there that he can see, just some George Clooney wannabe at the bar with a woman in a Pretty Woman getup that’s probably not his wife.
Jared swallows, turns his gaze back down to his phone in halting increments, gripping it so tightly he feels the case start to give beneath his fingertips. He’s crazy. That’s all. His mother’s tweaked his last nerve, and that, on top of three major business meetings in as many days has made him hallucinate. He had amnesia once. For all he knows, that makes him predisposed to other... issues. Turning the screen back on full, he glances down again.
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
The lounge singer’s found his groove, starts to rail on his guitar, his voice a moaning whine layered over a desperate growl.
I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall.
I don’t wanna have to see you leave me.
Dropping the phone in his pocket, Jared takes his mother’s wrist and physically drags her out of the lounge.
Cause I don’t wanna stay, I don’t wanna fall in love...
They’re almost to the upper level and the valet station when his phone gets another text.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” his mother asks.
“No, I’m not.” He can’t. He really, really can’t.
--
“You’re sure this is the right number?” Jensen asks, ducking down to address Jeff Morgan, the limo driver, through the passenger door.
“Sure, I’m sure,” Morgan huffs. “You didn’ t really expect him to reply did you?” Checking his watch, Jeff says, “Look, he’s expecting me on the upper level in five minutes. You sure you wanna go through with this?”
“Damn straight, I’m sure,” Jensen says. Turning to Danneel, he adds, “Thanks for helping us set this up. You don’t know what it means.”
She rests one hand on his shoulder, smooths over his bicep with the other, stopping to pick at the short sleeve of his tee the way she always used to when he was about to go onstage. “I’m just glad I could help. Lucky for you I work here, airport security being what it is.”
“Lucky doesn’t even begin...” Jensen shakes his head. He can’t believe all the seemingly insurmountable obstacles that have seemed to magically vaporize to make all this possible, beginning with a call to Jeff Morgan and ending with his ex getting all of his people planted inside the parking garage. Danneel always did have a thing for fast cars, but still, he never pictured her working as a valet. The Gods of Serendipity are either smiling on him or laughing their asses off for having put him through the Hell that got him here. Either way, he’s not complaining. At least, not until after this is over.
“I only ever wanted you to be happy,” she says, kissing him on the cheek.
“I know that now.” Jensen ducks his gaze.
“C’mon. Let’s go get your boy back.” She tosses her head toward the service entrance of the parking garage.
“God, yes.” Leaning into the open limo, Jensen shakes Jeffrey’s hand, feels his eyes start to crinkle in the corners as he smiles. “Give us twenty minutes, then,” he jerks a thumb upward, “top level. Got it?”
“You got it,” Jeff agrees, tipping his cap. He turns the key in the ignition, reaches for the gear shifter, pauses. “Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let him tell you no. I’ve never seen him happier than he was with you. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” Jensen smirks. “I kicked Kane’s ass enough for both of you. And believe me, I know when something’s too good to let go.” He leans out, smacks the roof of the car, and slams the door. When he turns around, Danneel’s holding the garage door open for him, the wind streaming her long hair across her face so she has to pull it back with long, painted fingers. Ever the gentleman, he takes the door from her, shields her from the wind so she can go in ahead of him.
“Let’s do this,” she says, and takes him up the stairs.
--
I was down my dreams were wearing thin.
When you're lost, where do you begin?
Jared reaches across the dash and changes the radio station. He so doesn’t need to be listening to Air Supply. He normally wouldn’t sit shotgun in the limo, but he has a deep and abiding urge to put a sheet of safety glass between himself and his mother. For her own protection. Speaking of whom, he can’t for the life of him figure out what’s taking her and Jeffrey so long to get all of her bags loaded in the trunk. He knows she’s particular, but they’ve been at it ten minutes already. Long enough for his phone to field three more text messages. Rather, three occurences of the same message. He just... He’s not going to reply. It could be anyone. Hell, it’s probably Chad. It’s not like everyone hasn’t seen those damned commercials. “Can you hear me now?” is just part of the vernacular these days. It’s stupid that he’s somehow let it become more than that. But if it’s not Chad texting him... Jared can’t reply. Not when he’s this close.
Besides, he can’t reply. He’s too busy changing the radio station. Huh. The radio station doesn’t switch. If anything, it gets louder. He reaches around Jeffrey’s cell phone where it’s mounted on the dash and hits a few presets. More of the same. He finally just turns the volume down so he can’t hear it anymore and slouches against the door.
Jeffrey slides in a minute later, promptly turns the volume back up again.
That the right time was so far away
To tell you the things I knew.
“What is this? Air Supply satellite radio?” Jared doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Hell, he had most of these songs on his iPod the last time he checked, but it seems the airwaves are determined to twang at a frequency only raw, exposed nerves can detect. Oh yeah, he’s detecting.
“It’s my phone,” Jeffrey shrugs. “Got one of those new jacks that wires the phone sound through the car speakers. Nifty gadget.”
“And your phone is playing music?”
“I’m on hold.”
They seem to be taking the long way around the terminal, or maybe they’re lost, spend another five minutes ignoring text messages and going nowhere, tuning out the lyrics of sappy love songs that make him want to go in for voluntary root canal, when Jared notices they’re following the signs into the secured private parking garage. “Didn’t we sign up for valet parking so we wouldn’t have to go through the garage?”
“Road construction all around the airport. This is the best exit. Don’t worry. I have friends who work here. We won’t get charged for driving through.”
“Good to know.” Jared massages his temples as another song streams through the speakers.
Sometimes I feel just a word away
You’ll say, oh how I miss you, too, I do.
When they hit the first roadblock and detour arrow, Jared’s willing to over look the inconvenience. When they run into two more and have to keep circling up to higher floors, he can’t help but point out. “I thought we came this way to avoid the roadblocks?”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jeffrey says. “Let’s see if this guy knows something.” By now they’re on the top level, and if the rest of the garage was mostly empty, there seems to be an unusual number of people just loitering around up here, valets if their attire is any clue. Jared finds it hard to believe it takes several dozen valets to manage the private parking, but what does he know? The closest one’s turned away from them, a tallish guy with sandy blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Jared can’t decide if he looks familiar or just cliche enough to seem so. Jeffrey rolls down the windows to get the dude’s attention, and it’s like the whole garage is supercooled from the icy chill that snakes down Jared’s spine.
Hold me in your arms for just another day
I promise this one will go slow...
Jeffrey’s cell is broadcasting over the PA system?
“What’s? What’s going on?” Jared’s hands fist in his slacks, convulsing tighter as the car stops and shuts off. The automatic door locks pop open, and the valet they were trying to flag down, turns. Shit, Jared knows him from... somewhere. The guy certainly seems to know him when he bends down and opens the door, holds it wide like he’s expecting Jared to get out. Jared whips his head around, finds Jeffrey slouched back against his door.
“I think this is your stop, kid.” He jerks his head toward the open door. “Go on. I don’t think he’ll bite.”
“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?”
It’s not a text message this time. It’s... everywhere. In the speakers of the car. On the PA system. Echoing off the walls. And the voice is...
Jared blinks hard, already know he’s losing the battle with his emotions, feels the next breath shudder its way down his windpipe as he stretches out one leg then the other, and steps out.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, the entire place comes to life.
When love is new,
and the world is not reaching for you.
The ‘valets’ he’s noticed loitering about the garage, suddenly come together in pairs, waltz across the floor, whirling and twirling like music box dancers.
You try hard to hold it all in your hands
but it slips through like soft drifting sand
Jared stands agape, hand pressed over his mouth, fighting to keep his legs from buckling under him. He loses the fight when someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns to find... Jensen. Jensen standing there in Jared’s space for the first time in five months, and Jared suddenly unable to remember why he can’t be there, why they can’t be here, or anywhere, together. He starts to tip back against the car, but Jensen braces him up with one hand clasped in Jared’s and the other strong against Jared’s shoulder blade, classical ballroom stance. “Can you hear me now?”
And counting the years,
is all I want to do.
Jared can’t find the words, probably because there are none. First time ever, he’s completely speechless. Instead he nods, a quick up and down, then lets Jensen sweep him away, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, into the throng of dancers.
Now and forever,
Remember the words from my heart will always be true.
And that’s it, isn’t it? Everything that’s gone down between them. Everything they’ve been through together. No matter what the pretense of it all, Jared knows, he just knows Jensen never wanted to hurt him, the same way he knows he’s a better person than he was before they met. He hears that. Loud and clear.
The song ends with Jared backed up against a pillar, his hands on Jensen’s hips, the applause of Jensen’s cast of dancers barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears as Jensen kisses him slow and deep. When they draw back, Jensen sheepishly sweeps a wrist across his swollen mouth, kicks his toe against Jared’s right ankle.
“You dance a lot better with two good legs.”
“It’s all about having the right partner,” Jared grins.
“Marry me?”
“Now and forever,” Jared whispers. And then it’s his turn to sweep Jensen off his feet.
--
“Fuck!” Jensen’s whole body seizes, fingers slip-sliding against the skin over Jared’s ribs, his thighs slick against Jared’s waist. His chest heaves, sucking in hot, moist breath against the crook of Jared’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. They were doing so well, managed to get this far without any awkward moments, and now he’s gone all... delicate or something. He just, hadn’t really expected...
“It’s all right,” Jared soothes, withdrawing his finger as he presses kisses against Jensen’s temple. And he means it. His hands massage their way up Jensen’s back, pull Jensen against him before Jared whispers into his ear. “So, um, you’ve never done this before?”
Jensen sighs, braces himself up enough so he’s looking down into Jared’s eyes, can’t resist tasting the sweat pooling in that little divot above his lip, brief nipping kiss kiss before he nods.
Jared slips his hands around Jensen’s waist, squeezes gently. “Dude, that’s nothing to be sorry for. Actually, I...” He ducks his eyes, sheepish grin that brings a blush to his cheeks. “I think it’s kinda hot.”
“You would, you toppy bastard,” Jensen retorts. And because he can, he slides his hands up Jared’s chest, tweaks his nipples before leaning back down and nipping along the edge of that strong jaw line while Jared moans and tips his head back. Jensen’s cock throbs where it’s trapped between them, and Jared’s butts up against him from behind, slick and insistent.
Rocking his hips, Jensen starts to lose himself in the ebb and flow, slides back a little farther, the small of his back hollowing out as Jared takes him by hips and nudges upwared in shallow thrusts along the crease of Jensen’s ass. It’s... fuck, it’s good, and Jensen’s bites move up until he’s nipping his way into Jared’s mouth, swallowing around that long, muscular tongue in time with the coil and recoil of their bodies.
Jared breaks it first, thrusting up with a gasp before he rasps out, “You know, I can... if it would be easier... you could.”
Jensen shakes his head, and, prying Jared’s fingers loose from his hips, he slides Jared’s hands back behind himself, presses his ass into them so he’s spread out and begging, cock giving a half-hearted spurt of pre-come against his belly. “When...” he pants, “When have I ever done anything half-assed?”
Jared squeezes, groaning as he drags Jensen’s ass back against his cock for better friction, all the while shaking his head. “Dun wanna hurt...” hard swallow that looses a trickle of sweat over his Adam’s apple, “It’ll hurt.”
“I don’t care.” Jensen punctuates with a hard press back, sits up to brace his hands against Jared’s thighs, and rolls his hips, cock slapping against his stomach while Jared’s slides against his ass. He opens his eyes fully from slits and pauses, waits for Jared to meet his gaze. “I don’t want any barriers between us ever again. No lies. No fear. No pain. Okay?” Jared’s fingers tighten and release, massaging deep into Jensen’s ass cheeks, eyes bright with emotion before he finally nods.
“Okay.” A grunt as he tosses his head back, stills the thrusting with considerable effort. “O-okay.”
Everything blurs from there, into sweat-stung eyes, twisting, groping fingers, push and pull and stretch, all balancing on a the razor thin line between pain and pleasure. Too much to press farther. Too little to stop. And when it finally happens, hot, tight flesh spread wide over slick latex, Jared’s holding Jensen up, won’t let him slide down too fast, strong hands at the end of bulging forearms, biceps and chest tight and straining, his eyes soft and wide.
Jensen trembles, thighs quivering as he tries to brace himself up against the intrusion, ice, ice, ice, all the way up in his chest, his whole body shivering, torn between withdrawing and drawing in, pulling tighter and letting go. Halting, minute increment by gradual inch, he bottoms out, and takes ever deepening breaths as the glacier recedes from his chest, trickling down as the heat rises. Finally he moves, just an inch up and down, then a little more, and Jared cants his hips, smooths a hand over the tight muscles in Jensen’s stomach, encircles his flagging cock. Eventually the fire’s stoked beyond capacity, makes the leap up his veins, crackling along his spine, and the rhythm takes over.
Jensen’s thankful for the twenty racks of clothing packed into Jared’s room when he can’t squelch the moans ripping from his throat. He drives harder and faster, the muscles in his legs and hips burning with exertion, bottom lip bitten to near bloody. Suddenly the world spins, and he’s pinned underneath Jared his knee tight against his chest, and Jared’s sweat-soaked bangs dangle against Jensen’s forehead. He never imagined himself in this position, has half a mind to protest, but then Jared starts to move.
Jensen doesn’t know how Jared does it, keeps building that roiling pounding motion without barely any air squeezing between them. “God, fuck!” Every squeak of the mattress elicits another exploding jolt deep inside that pings around between Jensen’s hip bones before reverberating through his entire body, keeping him gasping and writhing, begging without words, his jaw drawn open, chin tilted toward the ceiling. He feels like every hair on his body’s a lightning rod, and the air’s crackling with positive charge. Just. One. More.
“Aaah...” Jared rears forward, Jensen’s leg high over his shoulder, Jared’s hand tight behind his knee as his face pinches tight along the leading edge of his orgasm, his thrusts growing shallow and stilted. Through hot, panting breaths, he says, “Come with me. C’mon, Jensen. Wanna see you,” and out of nowhere a thumb presses into the divot behind Jensen’s balls, into skin already stretched tight and aching. It might as well be the detonator switch on a ton of C2.
Jensen arches up, “gh, gh, nngh,” comes in long spurts against Jared’s chest while the world slips out of focus.
He opens his eyes to Jared kissing the moisture from his cheeks, teasing at the corners of Jensen’s swollen lips. Jensen smiles, loose and blissed out, swipes weakly at Jared’s shoulder. “One crack about popping my cherry, and I’m never cooking for you again.”
“Just admit it,” Jared chuckles against the shell of his ear, still rolling languidly between his legs, dick spent and flagging against Jensen’s thigh. “Mmm, you always wanted to be the mommy.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hmm, anytime. Just give me a little time to recover first.”
Jensen stretches out, slides his arms around Jared’s shoulder. “Tell you what? I’ll give you until morning.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jensen’s almost asleep when the words rumble up his throat. “This is really all yours, huh?”
“It is now,” Jared snuffles against his neck. Then he adds, “Ours.”
“Y’know Indy’s gonna love swinging from that chanedelier in the main house.”
A mufled laugh. “I hope he does.” Then, after a pause. “You think the kids will like it here? They’ll be leaving their home.”
“Home’s just the place you park your family,” Jensen sighs into Jared’s hair. “As far as we’re concerned, that’s wherever you are.” The next part’s half snore, half mumble, but entirely sincere. “Can you hear me now?”
“I love you, too.”
The End
banner by the lovely
ysbail.A/N: So, there you have it. The end. A whole year of pulling out our hair and putting it aside for other projects, a week or so of torture for all of you, and this is how it ends up. *shrugs* I know it's cheesy. C'mon, you saw the movie, right? The whole, "Katarina!"... "Arturo!" exchange just wouldn't work here. The actual idea for the parking garage scene came from a video one of my friends sent me the link to on Youtube wherein a whole transit station breaks into song and dance, and sap that I am, I totally teared up watching it. I figured, with the popularity of Glee, High School Musical, etc, etc, and so forth, it couldn't hurt to at least try the big Hollywood musical ending here. That being said, I've never loved a story more or had the most doubt about how it would go over as I do this one. So, if you have a minute...
That being said, thanks to everyone who's been following along as I post. I'll wait on y'all's verdict before I crosspost, and if you feel it's safe to crosspost, I'll probably do that tonight or tomorrow. I want to compile a more complete author's note and possibly a soundtrack before I finish the master post. Also, it's probably going to take me awhile to get the Dreamwidth posts caught up, because hubby wants to go visiting again today.
Thanks so much for all your support. Any and all criticism appreciated. Anonymous comments are welcome. They will just be screened until I reply.
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