by Jerry Cole
***
Jensen arrived at Blake’s house right on time but found the house quiet and seemingly dark. The old truck wasn’t parked out front, but Blake said that he normally kept it in the garage, and there weren’t any tracks in the snow to show it had been driven out since that evening’s snowfall had begun. He rang the bell a few times and didn’t get an answer. Getting concerned now, he checked the knob, and it turned. He let himself in and toed off his boots.
“Blake? Blake, are you here?” he turned on the hall light and pushed through the door that led to Blake’s living room.
“Jensen? I’m in the kitchen…I…I fell.”
“Jesus Christ, Blake!” Jensen dropped the bags he’d been carrying on the floor and ran through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen. Blake was sitting against the cabinets in the corner, face contorted in pain. Jensen ran over to him, concerned. “Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“No! No, I’m…my hip is just playing up. I was doing too much earlier and it just…gave out.” He struggled to stand up, and Jens quickly crouched down to get his shoulders under Blake’s arm on his bad side. “I just need to get to the couch. I’m fine.”
Jens was looking up at him, skeptical, but he tentatively put an arm around Blake’s waist and helped him to the living room couch. Blake tried not to wince at the pain and stiffness, but it was a losing battle. The going was slow, but they made it, and Blake collapsed into the couch gratefully, then shifted around to put his bad leg up next to him. He looked embarrassed and unsure of what to say for a long moment. “Thank you, Jensen. I appreciate it.”
“You can call me Jens if you want. I kept meaning to say that before. And it wasn’t a problem.”
A clicking noise coming from the kitchen got louder and louder, and Ginger wandered into the room, looking offended and wearing, implausibly, a little Christmas sweater. She eyeballed the two of them for a moment, then climbed a Manzanita wood perch next to the window and settled down, fluffing up what remained of her feathers. “Rosso bad bird,” she stated with some finality, then investigated the food bowl on the perch and began to crunch on some pellets.
“She looks like an offended diva.”
“Her little sweater is very cute, though,” Jensen chuckled. “Did you buy that for her so she wouldn’t be able to pick at her feathers?”
“Jeanie made it from an old pair of socks. It seems to be keeping her warm if nothing else. And she doesn’t seem to mind it much. I don’t know if it will stop her from picking at her chest feathers, though.”
“Will her feathers ever grow back, do you think?” Jensen asked, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Blake. He ran a hand through Blake’s hair affectionately.
“Hard to guess. It depends on how long she’s been plucking them,” Blake murmured, leaning into the contact. If someone had asked him before if he’d missed being affectionate with another human, he probably would have said no. He would have been lying. Jensen wasn’t overly physically affectionate, but he wasn’t afraid of being close, and it was just nice to have someone act like that. It was just nice to know someone else cared. He moved so that Jensen could sit on the couch with him properly and put his leg on the coffee table instead. Jensen cuddled into his side, sighing, and Blake draped his arm over his shoulders.
“How did you fall?” Jens asked quietly, after a few moments. He opened his eyes and looked at him.
Blake sighed and looked to the side. “I pushed myself too much the last few days. Probably need to go in and get it looked at but…I really don’t want to. I haven’t gone to see my specialists in…longer than I want to think about. But my leg just collapsed when I turned to check the oven.”
“Is it likely to be something that gets progressively worse?”
Blake sighed again and shrugged. “In theory no. But my eye is a little worse recently, and the hip is killing me more often than not.” He looked at Jensen and smiled wryly. “I’m…what five years older than you? Something like that. And I’m falling apart like I’m 80.”
Jensen snorted. “You’re a mess physically, and I’m a mess mentally so between the two of us, there’s one un-fucked-up person.”
Blake kissed the side of Jensen’s head. “Seems like we’re well matched then.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled a bit. “I really love the color of your hair. It’s so…cheerful.”
Jensen felt himself blushing. “I hated it when I was a kid. All the teasing in the world, as you can imagine.”
“Hmm, yeah, I bet.”
The timer started beeping from the kitchen, and Jensen hopped up before Blake could. “Is that the casserole?”
“Yeah, I can—”
“Sit. I’ll take care of it. Do I just need to take it out of the oven?”
“Yeah, and the plates and knives are already out…”
“Good.” Jensen walked into the kitchen and removed the casserole from the oven, then turned it off. He found a spatula in a drawer next to the oven and spooned up large portions for both of them. He wandered back into the living room with the plates.
“You didn’t have to do that…”
“Yes, I did. You said yourself you overdid it the last few days.” He set everything down on the table. “Oh, I brought some beer and wine. I forgot it in the entryway, but they should still be pretty cold. Do you want anything to drink?”
“Yeah, a beer would be great.”
Jensen dealt with the rest of the contents of the bags he had brought, then returned with two cold beers, and they settled in to eat on the couch. Ginger wandered over a few moments later to investigate their dinners, and Blake gave her a bit of his food, though he scolded her and reminded her that she couldn’t tell Mich that he was feeding her garbage twice in one day.
Jensen just laughed. He watched Blake carefully pick some chicken out of the enchiladas and push it to the side of the plate that Ginger was eating off of. Blake looked and acted so gruff, but secretly he was a sweetheart who couldn’t say no to people or animals. He had chatted with Beth before Blake had been able to break away for lunch, and the older woman had given him a stern look and asked him to ensure Blake was eating whenever possible. She mentioned that Blake had lost weight, and skipped a lot of meals. It was obvious she worried about Blake a lot.
***
Once they finished eating, Blake got up long enough to light a fire and make them both some very alcoholic hot chocolate. Jensen was curled up in the armchair by the fire, hands cupped around his mug, looking like he had always belonged there. He was wearing his glasses instead of his contacts, which made his face seem a little older and more world-weary, though he still seemed far younger than he was. Jensen had been worrying about him while Blake was lighting the fire and preparing their cocoa, and while it was a bit annoying, he understood the fussing.
“You can ask, you know,” Blake said quietly. “Unless someone in town already told you the story.”
Jens shook his head. “No, Angie just said there was a car accident. I figured you would tell me when it suited you.”
Blake huffed his breath out. “I appreciate that.” He paused, looking down at his jeans where he knew the scar tissue was the worst. “I was out in Denver on Halloween twelve years ago, and a motorcyclist lost control and hit me while we were walking between bars in LODO. It was rainy, and the roads were wet, and he was going way too fucking fast, and there was nothing I could do to get out of the way. He wasn’t hurt at all, and I nearly died.”
Jensen’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God, Blake, that’s horrible…”
“It was…bad. I don’t remember most of the first month or so. I was already a vet at that point, but the hit to my head was hard enough that it scrambled everything. My mom had to look after me like I was a small child for months. I’m lucky that things got better, and my eye is really the only neurological symptom that never went away.”
“Well, I was a developer. Mostly I did stupid database work for an insurance company with
a lot of SQL stuff, but sometimes I got to do something interesting. I made plenty of money doing that. And my family is…not poor. So yeah, I’m living off of a barista’s salary, but I have a lot in savings.”
“That explains the fancy car, I guess. I was wondering if you just inherited it from a relative or went into a ton of debt or something.”
Jens chuckled and shook his head. “No, I bought it with a Christmas bonus one year.”
“So, if you were making bank and doing well…how did you end up here?” Blake asked, dreading the answer.
Jensen shrugged. “I met…a guy. And fell hard. Didn’t realize he was an abusive sack of shit until it was too late. By the time I got away from him, I was a nervous wreck. Came up here to work for Angie because she’s an old friend of my mom’s, and I needed to be somewhere away from everything.” He was looking into his mug of cocoa, and Blake realized his hands were shaking slightly. “I…that’s why I freaked out…before. On the couch. It wasn’t anything to do with you. And it isn’t that Eric ever actually forced me…it was just…I haven’t been with anyone since then. I had a moment where everything kind of blended together and it just hit me hard. You’re nothing, nothing like him and I know that. It was just…something I had to push through.”
Blake reached over and pulled the mug away before Jensen could drop it, then put his hands around both of Jensen’s. “Hey, I get it. It’s okay. We can go however fast or slow you need to. It’s been…way longer than a year for me. I’m not going to end anything over you needing a little more time to adjust.”
“I’m sure my therapist would tell me to slow it down if I’m uncomfortable but the truth is that I need to push through sometimes because if I don’t, that means I’m still giving him real estate in my head that he doesn’t deserve. And, honestly? That handjob on your couch did more to push him out of my head than anything else has. Something about you is just…” he paused for a long moment and took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I know this probably sounds insane, and you probably don’t want this much drama…” Tears welled up in his eyes again.
“No, Jens, no. I promise I understand. It’s okay.”
Jensen sniffed, still not looking up, and hot tears leaked out and hit both of their hands entwined on his lap. “It isn’t, though. I fucked up. Two of my best friends in the entire world told me he was bad news, and I drove them away because I didn’t believe them. They… they tried to be there after I got away, but I wouldn’t pick up the phone. I can’t… I can barely talk to my family. They hated him too. Why didn’t I just fucking listen, Blake? Why did I have to be so stubborn…”
Blake moved to the end of the couch, ignoring the protest in his hip, and pulled Jensen toward him until the redhead was practically on his lap. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. The other guy fucked up, not you.” He didn’t know what else to say, and that made him feel awful, but what could he say? “Assholes like that mess with your head. It isn’t your fault you couldn’t bust away from it. You said yourself you’re doing better now. You’re making progress.”
“But—”
“How many times have you run through this in your head? All the ‘buts’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘I should haves’? Probably as many as I have, thinking that I should have just stayed home that Halloween instead of going out to try and hook up with someone. But at the end of the day…my leg is still fucked up, and you’re still giving bandwidth in your brain to an abusive bastard who isn’t worth it.” He rubbed Jensen’s back and shoulder gently.
Jensen sighed. “I’ve run through the whole thing a thousand times, probably. And a few hundred out loud with my therapist. And with Angie. They’ve told me to work on not dwelling on it. Alex tries to get me to go out. I’m just really bad at calming down and recognizing when I’m getting into a rut like this.” He still wouldn’t look up at Blake.
“I’m not telling you I don’t want to hear about this stuff. That’s not it at all. What I’m trying to tell you is that the past is what it is, and the future could be a lot better if you let it.” He sounded gruff.
Jensen shifted to look at up at him. “Is that a future with you in it?”
Blake tensed, then forced himself to relax. “Maybe so. Though why the fuck you’d want to be saddled with a grumpy old bastard like me is beyond me.”
Jensen laughed. “Because it’s a front, Blake. Under all the bluster and bullshit, I think you’re actually the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And you are not old.”
Blake blushed all the way down his neck and looked out the window. “Don’t be silly, I’m a jackass. And old.”
“You’re not. You wouldn’t have helped Ginger if you were a jackass. And you’re barely older than me so shut up about that one.”
The bird in question opened one eye to look at them, then fluffed her feathers and settled back down on her perch, clearly having decided they were not up to anything involving food.
Both men snorted.
The snow was still falling outside, harder now, and the sun was completely set. The fire was still going. It was cozy. Jensen moved, so he was more draped over Blake’s lap than actually putting weight on the other man, and buried his face in the other man’s neck. He had stopped crying, and the despair and confusion had retreated back to the corner of his brain where they usually lurked. He had noticed that the darkness went away faster and faster now. He still had moments where everything looked bleak, but they were shorter, and he returned to feeling like himself a lot faster.
“You want some more cocoa?” Blake asked a few moments later, running a hand over Jensen’s shoulders.
“Yeah, though I better not have any more of the rum unless you don’t want me to drive home…” Jensen looked up at him, expression sly.
Blake shifted uncomfortably for a second. “Well, you don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
Jensen looked up at him. “Oh really? You sure?”
“I meant what I said before. I’m… this means something. And I don’t want you to leave.” He was watching the fireplace, refusing to meet Jensen’s eyes again. Whenever Blake was uncomfortable, he would find something to stare at, and Jensen had noticed that anything involving emotions or feelings made Blake very uncomfortable.
“I’d be happy to stay here,” Jensen gently nudged Blake’s face away from the fire. Their eyes met, and it was painful how much hope and uncertainty there was in Blake’s expression. Jensen leaned in and kissed him.
It was as though the floodgates had opened because Blake immediately deepened the kiss and pulled him closer. He tasted like rum and cocoa and marshmallows and smelled like sandalwood. He wasn’t aggressive, but there was an insistence there that made Jensen’s blood warm. His tongue slide into Jensen’s mouth slowly, and only when Jensen moaned in response did he pick up the pace. One hand found its way into Jensen’s hair, the other to his back. Jensen just threw both of his arms around Blake’s neck and maneuvered until he had a better angle.
This was less rushed than the last time. Calmer and more familiar now as well. Jensen was half-hard in his jeans, and wondering about the mechanics of how they would do this. If Blake just wanted to go for blow-jobs, or if he was looking for more than that. If he were honest, he’d fantasized about both options since their last encounter.
“Fuck…” Blake muttered, pulling back slightly. His eyes were glazed, and his face was red again. “Fuck, Jens…I…” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fuck me, please…I’m losing my mind here.”
Jens paused, slightly startled. He had assumed that Blake usually topped, which, he supposed, wasn’t exactly fair. They hadn’t discussed it, but men usually assumed Jensen bottomed because of his stature, and Jensen was amiable to either one, so he rarely argued. He had never topped in the entire period he’d dated Eric. He gathered himself, then grinned and leaned in to nibble at the spot being Blake’s ear. “Only because you begged so nicely…”
Blake pulled him closer and slid a hand under Jensen’s
shirt. “I’m happy to switch later, believe me, but right now I just want your dick in my ass…I couldn’t stop imagining it after I saw you come on the couch.”
Jensen nibbled at Blake’s neck for a second, careful not to mark him up. “Oh really? You couldn’t stop thinking about me fucking you?”
Blake sighed and pulled lightly on Jensen’s hair, then nodded.
“We should move upstairs…” Blake murmured, running his hand up and down Jensen’s spine, feeling the bones. “It’ll be easier on my leg…”
“Yeah, lead on.” Jensen nodded, carefully getting off of Blake’s lap. Both of them were visibly hard in their jeans, and Jensen’s shirt was completely disheveled.
Blake glanced over to Ginger. “Let me put her to bed real quick.” He stood up and put an arm out for Ginger, who stepped up. He then carefully settled the cockatoo into her cage and shut and latched it. “Night, Ginger.”
The cockatoo grumbled, and Blake pulled the cover down over the cage. Then he looked back to Jensen with pure heat in his eyes. “I already put the supplies upstairs…”
Jensen grabbed his hand and practically dragged him toward the stairs. Blake was startled into a laugh, though he had to be careful once they were actually going up the stairs. His leg wasn’t up to much, and he knew he wasn’t going to be up to any acrobatics in bed either, but he really just wanted to be close to Jensen, and if he were honest, he was horny. Their last encounter had been enough to have his libido back.
They got upstairs, and Blake led the way into his room, which was at the back of the house and had several large windows looking out onto the woods and mountains.
Jensen looked back at him, eyes narrowed, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and grabbed his face to kiss him again. Blake seemed far less sure of himself at that moment, and that was what seemed to galvanize Jensen’s own resolve. They both had hang-ups, and they both had issues, but they were both adults, and they both wanted this, and maybe he was worried about flashing back to see Eric again, and maybe Blake was worried Jensen would freak out at the gnarled mess on his leg, but they could handle this.
