on 2007-01-28 11:39 pm (UTC)
I said pick one - greedy h00r :p

You'll only get this one, because I might have gone on a bit... Er. Yes. But this is how it happens.

sleeping in the hay
so, they're on this road trip, which was totally Jensen's idea and Jared wasn't going to do it because a week alone with Jensen's smile and his 'fuck me' eyes and that little dip at the back of his neck that Jared absolutely did not want to nuzzle and smell first thing in the morning like a goddamn girl, would be just too fucking much. But it's not like he's ever been able to say no to Jensen so they're on a road trip, okay? And maybe it's kinda cool, with just the car and the two of them, quiet drinks in skeevy bars, singing along to radio, Jensen's freckles becoming more and more prominent from the sun. And if Jared's hand strays to Jensen's skin a bit more often than usual, neither of them is talking about it, so it's all fine, really.

Then one day there's a rain storm. Jared loves storms, ever since he was a little boy, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Jensen goes white and tight-lipped, clenching the steering wheel until Jared's afraid he's going to snap the thing in two. They're in the middle of nowhere and Jensen insists on driving until the next town but Jared thinks they might not make it that far if the way Jensen keeps flinching and swerving the car every time there's a lightning is any indication. So. He does what in retrospect is a really fucking stupid idea, and tells Jensen to stop the car on the side of the field because they're going to spend the night in the derelict barn that droops in the distance. Jensen looks at him like he's lost his marbles, but then there's another roll of thunder and he kills the engine without a word.

They cross the field in what Jared would call a flat-out run, if they weren't too manly for that sort of thing. The barn's old and musty, but it's relatively dry. Jensen strips off his outer layer, and proceeds to curl up in the nearest hay pile, still clearly freaked out. The tense line of his shoulders says 'back off' but Jared's never been good with keeping away, even when it would be the best thing for everyone. He sits down, arms around his knees, almost but not quite touching, and starts on a long rambling tale about his grandpappy and that one time the neighbour's bull got loose.

Eventually the storm passes and in the silence Jared can hear Jensen snoring softly. He stays awake for a little while longer, just listening to Jensen breathe, head in his hands, because jesus could he be any more pathetic? This thing moved from lust to something else, something indefinitely worse, a long time ago and now it's too late for Jared to back out and equally impossible to move forward, so he's stuck like this, aching and hollow and stupid in love.

In the morning Jared's the first one to wake up. The sunlight is streaming through the gaps in the wall, the dust particles dancing in the pale golden dawn. He sits up, stretches, looks around, eyes landing on Jensen's still sleeping form. And that's when it all goes to hell. Because Jensen looks like a fallen angel, his long eyelashes casting sweeping shadows across his face, fingers splayed over his stomach like an invitation, and Jared is so, so fucked.

He doesn't know he's moving until he feels the rough sting of stalks against his palms. Palms which are resting on either side of Jensen's head. He's hovering above him, mesmerised by the play of shadow and light, by the rise and fall of his chest, desperately trying to pull off because this isn't- he shouldn't- just this once-

And that's when Jensen opens his eyes.
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