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Jensen lets his car idle in the driveway. He has half a mind to back out and drive straight out of Texas, but the single, red rose sitting on his passenger seat stops him from going anywhere.
The hospital gift shop was out of roses when he checked during a break. (What was he even thinking?) All they had left were sweet, pastel bouquets filled with baby’s breath for new parents and soft yellow arrangements meant to comfort loved ones when hope was lost. Fortunately Lisa, one of the ER attendings, had received a gorgeous bouquet of premium roses from her husband and she didn’t mind Jensen plucking one for his own purposes.
“He’ll have to do a lot better than flowers,” she said when Jensen asked, and he backed away with his single stem before he could ask any stupid questions.
It’s as if the ruby petals are judging him, waiting for him to work through his indecision. At least there hadn’t been time for him to overthink matters during his shift. Jensen’s been a nurse for over a decade—he’s used to the chaos of Austin General’s emergency department—but the last two years have been nonstop insanity. It’s only now that he’s five yards away from his front door that the panic sets in.
Jensen shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s just Jared. The guy he’s been rooming with for three years. What started as a temporary cohabitation when Jared needed a place to live for a couple of months became permanent thanks to the pandemic wreaking havoc on the rental market. Before that, the two of them had been casual acquaintances, drawn together by group outings and the fact that Jensen’s brother had married Jared’s childhood best friend. These days, there was nothing that could shake their rock solid friendship. Jared was…gentle. Big, strong, and caring. At home, he was a wall between Jensen and the horrible things he saw nearly every shift in the ER. Instead of collapsing under the weight of his responsibilities (and in the midst of a global pandemic), Jensen felt more stable than ever before.
The rose could change everything; Jensen may as well be bringing home a sledgehammer.
Cursing himself for being melodramatic and ridiculous, Jensen grabs the rose and gets out of the car.
Inside, the house is warm. The air is sweetened with the scent of baked sugar, a good indicator that Jared made cookies at some point. He baked to relieve stress and always found a willing taste-tester in Jensen, who was usually famished and dealing with low blood sugar when he got home.
But Jensen’s roommate isn’t in the kitchen, though he finds a plate of semi-warm chocolate chip-toffee cookies on the counter. Clutching the flower, Jensen decides he’s too nervous to eat. His carefully rehearsed words about feelings and taking chances, repeated over and over on the drive home, evaporated as soon as he walked in the door. The feelings are there, kicking his pulse up a notch and leaving his stomach twisting uncomfortably, but his tongue won’t cooperate.
How is he supposed to tell Jared that he’s falling in love with him?
Falling was the easy part. Easier than Jensen thought it would be whenever he imagined finding that person. And why shouldn’t it be easy when Jared treats Jensen better than anyone he’s ever dated? Even before the pandemic turned Jensen’s already stressful job into a battleground, Jared was able to sense what Jensen needed when he came home after a grueling shift.
When Jensen needed to get out of his own head, Jared provided distractions in the form of movie marathons, impromptu cooking lessons, or beers and sports talk on the back porch. If Jensen came back itching to vent about the injustices of the healthcare system, Jared listened to his woes and empathized as much as he could until Jensen was settled. Jared learned how to diffuse Jensen when he was angry, invigorate him when he was down, and buy tacos when there was nothing else he could do. Sometimes, it took a lot of tacos.
And then there were the physical comforts, like how Jared offered massages, the therapeutic kind, when Jensen could barely move. How the shower in Jensen’s bathroom was suddenly stocked with the nicest, organic products that made Jensen feel like he was living at a spa, and how Jared insisted on running him a bath on those rare nights Jensen came home too numb to say anything at all.
Obviously, Jensen was going to fall in love with Jared. The problem was that no matter how strong Jensen’s feelings were, he had no way of knowing for sure if Jared felt the same. Jared was a genuinely good person; he could have been doing these things for Jensen out of friendship and compassion, not romance.
This has gone on too long. Jensen doesn’t want to jeopardize their friendship, but he has to know. And what better time than Valentine’s Day?
“Jensen?” Jared’s voice from the hallway snaps him out of his musing. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til later.”
He calls back, “I got out a bit early.”
Slow, socked footsteps mean that Jared is heading for the kitchen, most likely from his office, giving Jensen only a few seconds to work out what to say.
“Great, I was thinking about putting together a pizza,” Jared says, getting closer. “Want me to wait until you get cleaned up?”
“I showered at the hospital.”
“Then I hope you’re hungry, because I was thinking I’d make that deluxe meat-lover’s you li—” Jared rounds the corner and stops mid-word. He takes in Jensen’s appearance, pausing when his eyes hit the one thing out of place: the rose. His smile falters. “Oh…um, is that from someone at the hospital?”
Shit. “No. I mean, sort of.” Jensen has barely started talking and he’s screwing it all up. “I brought it home because I wanted to talk. To you.”
“To me? About what?”
Jensen fiddles with the rose, hoping the right words will suddenly appear in his mind. He doesn’t realize the silence is dragging out until Jared asks, “Did you bring that home for me?”
“I know it’s Valentine’s Day and it’s probably cheesy, but I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Jensen holds out the rose and waits for Jared to take it.
“So, it’s a thank you?” Jared’s voice is difficult to read, which leaves Jensen floundering.
“Yeah, but not just a thank you, you know?” That earns him a partial smile from Jared along with a slight shake of his head. “You take such good care of me, Jared, and I thought—” This definitely isn’t the heartfelt speech he’d rehearsed, and it suddenly hits Jensen how crazy he sounds. Because Jared takes care of him, not the other way around. What has he done for Jared besides selfishly soak up every kindness and scrap of comfort?
Jensen doesn’t deserve him.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, chest beginning to hurt. “This is a mistake. I didn’t mean to make things weird. Just because I have feelings for you, doesn’t mean—”
“Whoa, Jensen.” Jared has somehow moved closer without Jensen really noticing. “Stop and take a deep breath for me, okay?” He takes the rose and sets his other hand on Jensen’s shoulder. The touch is immediately grounding, and Jensen breathes a little easier. He glances up and finds Jared looking back, eyes bright. “You said you have feelings for me.”
For the first time tonight, Jensen has the right words. “I love you.”
Jared’s lips are parted around a silent oh. Jensen starts to panic again, reconsidering his plan to flee the state.
Finally, Jared asks, “You do?”
“God, yes,” Jensen declares. There’s no point in ‘playing it cool’ now. “I don’t know when it happened, because you have this way of making me feel so good all the time. The last couple of years have been the happiest I can remember being, which sounds insane because my job has gotten ten times harder. But I know that you’ll be here when I come home, and somehow that makes everything better. And then one day I woke up and I realized there was a name for what I was feeling.”
Jared is looking down at the rose, hypnotized by the soft petals as he twirls the stem slowly. Despite his silence, Jensen presses on, unable to stop talking now that the gates are open. “You probably don’t feel the same way, and that’s alright, I totally understand that, but—”
“Understand what?”
Jensen blinks. “What?”
“What would you understand?” Jared asks.
Jensen has to back his thoughts up. “I understand if this is just a friendship for you. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I’m bad at taking care of myself, I vent too much—”
“And you’re completely crazy,” Jared points out.
Jensen smirks. “Probably.”
“You’re crazy if you think I don’t love you, too.”
Jensen’s mind stalls as he has his own oh moment. The tingling starts at the back of his neck as his body realizes what’s happening. He can’t speak, can’t react, until he catches Jared biting his lip. Then he’s launching himself forward into Jared’s open arms, the rose pressed between them as their lips meet. The kiss is hard (good) and awkward (not so good) until Jensen plants his feet and wraps one hand around the back of Jared’s neck. Pieces line up the way they’re supposed to after that, and Jensen is treated to the best first kiss of his life.
Jared has touched him hundreds of times, yet there’s a new weight where his hand drops on Jensen’s hip. Possessive, worshipful, and those are two very promising sensations. The idea of experiencing more where that comes from leaves Jensen panting when they separate to breathe.
“This is real, right?” Jared asks quietly. “I haven’t just fallen asleep reworking next quarter’s budget?” Jensen pinches him lightly on the arm and he yelps, laughing, “Okay, okay, I believe you.”
The wonder in his voice causes a pang in Jensen’s chest. “I promise I’ll do more to take care of you,” he says, refusing to let Jared out of his arms. They must paint a strange picture, pressed together in the kitchen, a plate of untouched cookies on the counter next to them, and a partially crushed rose between their chests.
Jared tips his head to the side. “You don’t think you take care of me?”
“It’s not the same. The food, the baths, the massages…”
“I like doing those things,” Jared points out, squeezing Jensen’s hip gently. “Just because you do things differently doesn’t mean I haven’t felt cared for. Although,” he adds as his fingers slip lower and farther back, “I wouldn’t mind a nice, long massage one night soon.”
That suggestion has Jensen yanking Jared in for another kiss. This time, tongues are involved and Jensen nearly melts at the spine-shuddering enthusiasm Jared works into every move. It’s a damn good thing there are two beds in the house, because they’re definitely going to destroy one of them.
At some point during the kiss, they start shuffling out of the kitchen towards the living room and it’s wide, comfortable sofas. Jensen doesn’t feel anything when he bumps into a wall, too busy trying to figure out how to put Jared’s tongue to other uses. Their bodies know what they want even if their hearts need to work out a few more details.
Jensen fails to stifle his groan when Jared pulls away again. Right…talking.
“You take care of me, Jen,” Jared tells him, crowding him up against the half-wall that divides the kitchen from the open living room. Jensen drags his gaze away from Jared’s friction-pink mouth and meets his eyes. “You listen to me. It doesn’t matter if I’m ranting about my job or unloading hours worth of information on you about my favorite things…you always pay attention. You’re always willing to watch these obscure shows and movies with me, and you laugh at my jokes—”
“That’s because you’re funny.”
Jared smiles. “Not all the time. Sometimes I’m joking because being serious hurts too much, and you let me do it. You know when I need it.”
Dozens of past conversations surface in Jensen’s mind: Jared hesitating before telling Jensen about a new show, or cutting himself off when he thought he’d been talking for too long. In the words of one of his exes, Jared was gorgeous, but exhausting. That guy (good riddance, seriously) had obviously never worked in an emergency room, because Jensen knows what exhausting really feels like, and Jared’s personality doesn’t even come close. He and Jared are different, but they’re harmonic frequencies: unique but meeting at the same points without disrupting one another.
He’ll have to share that idea with Jared soon. Right now, he can’t do anything but watch the heat rising in Jared’s eyes. Jared must be thinking along the same lines. He carefully sets the rose on the coffee table before pushing Jensen back onto the sturdier of the two sofas.
“Did you steal that from a patient?” he asks, glancing between Jensen and the flower.
Jensen shakes his head. “From Lisa’s bouquet.”
Jared breaks into a laugh. Jensen loves the way it moves his entire body. “Her husband got her flowers? He’ll have to try a lot harder than that.”
“How do I miss all the good gossip?” Jensen starts to complain until he’s distracted by a lapful of eager Texan.
Kissing Jared is even better when he’s pressed against his chest, knees wide around Jensen’s thighs. Jared’s narrow hips are a perfect place for Jensen’s hands, and he lets his thumbs rub teasingly across the waistband of Jared’s jeans. Jared is groping his chest, stretching Jensen’s T-shirt out of shape to get underneath. Air rushes out between their lips as they attempt to breathe without breaking the kiss. They’re veering into couch-desecrating territory, and as good as that sounds, there would be serious repercussions later.
Jensen leans back before he can get carried away. “You said something about a meat-lover’s?”
“I’ll give you all the meat you want, don’t worry.”
This time, Jensen is the one laughing like an idiot, comforted by the weight of Jared on his chest. Otherwise he’d burst from happiness. “I can’t believe I love you so much.”
Jared grins and pushes himself up off the couch, holding his hand out for Jensen. “No take-backs.”
“Never,” Jensen agrees, and grabs his hand.