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“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye” ― Jimi Hendrix
Jensen rubs the grit from his eyes on his way out the airport and idly wonders how many people are writing and drawing versions of what is about to go down. Which is enough to make him realize how stunningly jet-lagged he is, because the idea does not freak him out nearly as much as it used to. Besides, he’s pretty sure none of them are going to get it exactly right.
Contrary to the expectations he knows are out there, he does not break the door down to Jared’s first thing. He’s so tired he can barely see, his ears hum with the whine of too many consecutive hours in recycled air, and he stinks of too much airplane and not enough toothpaste.
Seriously, no one deserves that.
So he resists the urge to wake his daughter who, fuck, has grown in just two weeks. All curled over her favorite bear in her cot, thumb in her mouth, and looking like every reason in the world to stay right where he is. He can hear Danneel down in the kitchen, singing softly to something on the radio. She’d waved him off when he held her a little too long and hard, swatting him and wrinkling her nose, but still allowing him to lean on her, as ever, for just the right amount of time. He’d closed his eyes, breathed her in, and felt his headache finally retreat. Despite what many think they know about their marriage, Jensen loves her. She’s known them both for a long time now, she’s sharp to every insecurity he has, and if none of that were true it wouldn’t even matter because she’s the mother of his child. And right now, goddess that she is, she’s down there making Jared’s favorites; banana cupcakes with peanut better frosting. He’d made sure to kiss her cheek before dragging his tired, tired ass up the stairs to his daughter, a shower, and a much needed power nap of some kind.
Then it’s going to be Jared, cupcakes with peanut butter frosting, and all will be well with the world.
Only his perfectly planned time frame is complicated by a power nap turning into an old man coma of nearly five hours. His daughter wakes him by patting his face with suspiciously sticky fingers, and then takes off in a cascade of giggles when he grabs hold and squeezes the stuffing out of her. Then it’s another shower to truly wake up, a chase with Oscar and a squealing JJ, which becomes a near thing when he almost careens all three of them into the pool table. Oscar and JJ clearly think this is the best thing ever and holy hell the noise is deafening. Well and truly awake, he’s hefting one over-excited kid onto his hip when his phone buzzes.
I know about the cupcakes. JJ gets one and that2s all xx
Jensen smiles at the phone, stupidly relieved. It’s not like he and Jared haven’t been texting and talking, but this is different. This is being home, with Jared texting from next door.
None left. On my way anyway
“Dude, two? Two?”
“Shut up.”
As a first exchange after nearly two weeks apart, it probably lacks something. But they’re both smiling, one at the other, as Jared reaches up for one of two JJ-frosted cupcakes Jensen brought with him. When Jensen arrived he let himself in and followed the noise to where Jared, Shep, a guitar, and a dog are all hanging out on the oversized sofa in the game room. And it’s not like the cupcakes and Jensen’s sudden presence are Jared’s cue to leap up and get first hug, either. That honor goes to Shep, who demonstrates his ‘Uncle Jensen yelp’, as Genevieve calls it, at an ear piercing pitch while launching himself off the sofa and into Jensen. Then the dog joins in and for a while it’s good-natured chaos as Jared alternates the cupcakes with strumming, and Jensen picks Shep up so Shep can tell him all about his fingers. Or maybe about the ceiling fan? And one point Jared stops playing and Jensen hears what he’s been humming to himself, back and forth on his feet for the last five minutes. He looks back over his shoulder at Jared. “Is he..?”
Jared swallows and nods, gestures to where Shep is now a warm and silent weight on Jensen’s neck. “Yeah. You, uh, want me to..?
“Nah, I got it.”
Jared is waiting for him when he gets out of Shep’s room. He’s hanging back, though, a little curled in on himself. “You good, Jensen?” he asks quietly.
Jensen knows what this is. He also knows they are not going to do this in whispers outside a sleeping toddler’s open door. Instead of answering, he takes hold of Jared’s wrist and tugs until they get to their room. Which he hasn’t been in for two long weeks, with or without the man clearing his throat behind him.
“Jensen, I—“
“C’mere.”
They’re still whispering, which is stupid because the door is now closed. But maybe that’s okay, thinks Jensen, when he simply turns and pulls Jared into his arms. Sometimes the only way to make Jared truly be still and quiet, is to literally shut everything else out for a while.
It takes a second, but Jared hugs him back, hard, breath noticeably hitching. Jensen hangs on and breathes deep. Jared smells like apples and frosting and home, and this and JJ patting his face will undo him every goddamn time. A minute or two passes before Jensen exhales “Now you can speak,” he tells Jared, still keeping him close. “As long as it’s not to say something dumb like you’re sorry.”
Jared pulls back at that, and Jensen finally gets a good look at him. Jared’s eyes have lost the puffiness that had become more or less constant by the time anyone noticed. He’s put some weight back on, and Jensen hasn’t heard any of the hoarse scratch in his voice that actually had doctors talking about stress-related pneumonia at one time.
“I am, though,” says Jared, ever the stubborn one.
“I know,” says Jensen easily. He flicks his gaze from Jared’s eyes to his mouth and back again, moistens his lips.
“Jensen...”
It’s not a protest, not really. Jared is starting to smile as Jensen sets about walking them both toward the bed. Jared is so like Sam sometimes, it’s not even funny. Always thinks he has to make a speech before he can have anything, clear the air, make sure the other person isn’t mad at him, or some such therapist bullshit. And it is bullshit when that other person is Jensen.
Jensen stops them just as they get to the bed, because what the hell, he can give Jared his character bleed moment. “You put the brakes on this time, Jared. You. No one had to hit you over the head and hate themselves until you listened. Do you have any idea how fucking happy that makes me?”
“Yeah?” That’s better, a slow smile and laser attention right where Jensen wants it. “Happy, huh?” says Jared, teasing now, the fucker, as he rolls his hips into Jensen’s just so.
Jensen groans. “Not that happy. Well, not yet anyway.” The bed is right there, why the hell they’re still upright and fully clothed at this point, is beyond him. He tugs again, just as Jared slides a hand into Jensen’s hair. “Hey,” says Jared, “look at me.”
Jensen does, powerless not to. Jared’s gaze is warm, his hold firm. “Thank you,” he says, simple and heartfelt, and Jensen swallows, the weight of all the worry and crap of the last month acknowledged and let go. He leans in, kisses Jared, sweet and strong like he’s been wanting to for days.
“You’re welcome, you idiot,” he mutters, loving the breathless laughter he gets back when they finally tumble sideways onto the bed. He gets up on his elbows, scrabbling back to the headboard and heeling his boots off as he goes. “Thirty minutes max, Padalecki, before the pitter patter of tiny feet come to find us, so get to it. Make me that happy.”
One thing Jensen has always liked about Jared, is never having to ask his boy to do anything twice.