Chapter Seven

Aftermath

Jared floats, at least that's what it feels like, but when he opens his eyes he's flat on his back in a hospital bed. It's better with his eyes closed, the light doesn't hurt then and he feels as if he's flying. He's pretty sure they gave him something for the pain; he's not sure what pain that might be since nothing hurts in the floatiness, but maybe he would be hurting if he wasn't flying.

Jensen's sleeping in a chair beside the bed, one hand resting over Jared's wrist, warm and heavy, making sure Jared doesn't fly too far away. He's very pretty, even with white tape on his forehead and the early stages of a bruise discoloring his cheek. Jared doesn't want to wake him, even if it would be cool if Jensen could come flying with him.

He must be drifting in and out of consciousness. At one point when he looks up he's sure he sees Morrison at the door, but when he blinks he's gone again. The only constant seems to be Jensen and the comforting weight of his hand, hot and slightly sweaty, over his wrist. He has no idea what time it is but it feels late, as if it's in the middle of the night.

There's no window that he can see, in fact there's not that much to see at all. Just bland apricot walls, a fugly painting, and Jensen's slumped form. He spends most of his time looking at Jensen, trailing the lines of his face, wondering if he should make fun of him at some point for the thin line of drool trailing from the corner of his mouth. His left shoulder feels stiff and with time it starts to ache. He would peek under the covers to see what they've done to it, but that would mean moving and moving would mean waking Jensen and after a while he falls asleep again.

When he wakes up next Jensen's awake, staring at him wide eyed and alert, the drool wiped from his chin, but Jared can still see a wet spot on his shoulder. He locks eyes with Jensen for a moment, but his eyes slide shut again, still heavy with sleep.

"Jared," Jensen calls his name like a prayer, fingers tightening on his wrist.

He blinks his eyes open again, forces them to stay that way and smiles. "Hey," he says.

Jensen exhales with a whoosh, fingers loosening their grip of his wrist without letting go. "You're awake," he says, eyes trailing over Jared's face.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

Jared blinks and gives it some consideration. He feels weird, not as floaty as before, a little achier, but mostly he feels detached, like he's waiting for the penny to drop. "Odd," he answers.

Jensen smiles. "Yeah," he says. "Me too."

Jared turns his hand over, links his fingers with Jensen's, gripping them tight; they survived.



Two Months Later

Jared sprawls in one of the lounge chairs on the sundeck overlooking the garden, tired and a little mellow. He's got a beer clutched in his left hand, resting it against his stomach, and any minute now he's going to fall asleep and spill it all over himself. There's music coming from the open doors to the living room, something slow and sultry, and every now and then he hears glasses clinking together as Jensen clean up after the housewarming party.

He should get in there and help Jensen, but the chair is comfortable and there's a faint scent of lilacs hanging in the balmy air. Besides, the clock passed midnight an hour ago which means it's officially his birthday now. He sips from his beer that turned lukewarm an hour ago, and stares into the garden. There's not much to see in the dark, just the grey shapes of trees and the thick hedge separating their yard from the neighbor's, but it's a garden and it's theirs.

He still hasn't gotten used to the fact that they are house owners now, sickly sweet and domestic (if you ask Chris), or responsible adults (if you ask his mom). His dad keeps calling him to remind him to mow the lawn and keep the thermostats down, and every time he hangs up he just can't stop smiling.

It's hard to imagine that only two months ago he was discharged from the hospital with his arm in a sling and demons in his head. The first week back in the real world was harsh and surreal, the two of them clinging to each other as if they'd been shipwrecked, uneasy with Jensen apartment, uneasy with everything but each other. It was obvious that they had to move, but they had no idea where.

Then things started falling into place. They house more or less fell into their laps when two old friends of Jensen's family wanted to move back to Texas, looking for a quick sell. Jensen's mom tipped them off and once they'd gotten a good look at the sprawling bungalow they fell in love with the potential of the place. Two days later they signed the contract and less than a week after that they were able to start renovating.

The three bedroom one-story house was in good shape, but they wanted everything to be just right. So they let a crew of handymen loose, paying them enormous amounts of money to get it done quickly and as soon as the walls where dry in the master bedroom they moved in, spending almost one month living in a construction site and sleeping on a mattress on the floor, but anything was better than staying in either of their apartments that held nothing but bad memories.

They had the bedroom of Jared's old apartment renovated, erasing all traces of the crime scene and sold it to the first bidder for way more money than they ever expected. Jensen's apartment was put on the market next and with all the publicity they got in the first month with Jensen's very vague celebrity status, they found a buyer within a week.

Now, two months later, they've finally put it all behind them. The last handyman walked out the door two days earlier and their bed was finally delivered this morning, just in time for the housewarming party. They got whatever answers they're ever going to get about the case and why Kacmarek and her brother targeted psychics. It was a sad story that unfolded when the FBI started going through the house; Kacmarek and her siblings suffered through years of abuse at the hands of their grandfather, their mother's father, with the mother turning a blind eye.

Once the grandfather, at one time a wealthy man, died, leaving nothing but he house for his only child, their mother became obsessed with the idea that he had hidden his money on the property, unable to deal with the fact that she'd let her children suffer for nothing. She consulted psychics by the dozen and they either led her astray, or quite rightly told her to stop looking because there was nothing there, but she didn't pushing on, not even the suicide of the youngest daughter slowing her down. Then the mother died and the only thing left for the children to direct their anger towards were the psychics.

A few of the early victims, such as Emma Waltmann's mother, had been in direct contact with the Kacmarek's mother, but over the years they started targeting others that called themselves psychics, most of which acted underground, as not to draw attention to the motive or to themselves. Jared and Jensen learned most of this through Bloom, or Orlando as they call him now, who had become a friend and a welcome guest in their home, even if Jensen still glares when he thinks Jared is being too friendly.

"There you are," Jensen says, coming out on the sundeck "I thought you'd gone to bed."

Jared turns his head to look at him and smiles. Jensen's wearing a short sleeved white shirt and dark jeans, at some point he undid the top three buttons of the shirt, showing more than a sliver of his tanned chest, and he must have kicked off his shoes and socks when he started cleaning up, his bare feet hardly making a sound against the worn wood as he walks closer.

"Nah, I've been here," Jared says. "I was gonna help you but... I got lazy."

Jensen laughs. "At least you're honest," he says, sitting down on the edge of the lounge chair next to Jared's.

Jared puts his beer down and reaches out to touch Jensen's knee. Jensen covers his hand with one of his own and they sit in silence for a moment. Jared can tell Jensen got something on his mind, but he's content with waiting for him to get it out.

"Come here," he says instead, scooting over to make room for Jensen on the chair. "I'm cold."

Jensen snorts. "It's like eighty degrees still," he says, but he obediently moves to Jared's chair, cuddling up close with his head against Jared's shoulder. "This okay?"

"Yeah," Jared answers, turning his head to nuzzle Jensen's hair. His shoulder only hurts when he overexerts himself now, the dull ache that was his constant companion for weeks and weeks finally gone.

Jensen toys with the edge of his shirt, winding it around his fingers only to let it go and smooth it out before starting over again. Jared watches the way his fingers move, feels the tenseness of his muscles and wonders why Jensen's nervous and also if he's aware that his fingers are doing a tap dance over Jared's cock, making it swell with interest, which would be awesome if he didn't think Jensen had something else on his mind.

"I have something for you," Jensen says, breaking the silence with a sudden rush of words. "I was saving it for tomorrow but then I realized it is tomorrow and... uhhh... Happy Birthday."

Of course, Jared should have guessed; for some reason giving stuff away is a source of discomfort for Jensen. He's not sure why, but it's like Jensen expects people to throw his gifts back into his face and stomp off in anger. Stupid, because Jensen always come up with the best gifts, probably because he angst so much over them.

"Thanks," Jared murmurs.

Jensen wriggles, shoving his hand into his pocket and coming out with a closed fist. He holds his hand out to Jared who pretends he can't see the way Jensen's hand is trembling.

"I... uh... hope you like it," Jensen says, letting the object drop into Jared's hand.

Jensen pulls his hand away and Jared looks down, a simple thick gold band is resting on the flat of his hand, hot with the heat from Jensen's body, heavy with the meaning that it carries. He blinks and licks his lips, but the view doesn't change, it's an engagement ring.

"I know we haven't really talked about it, but I wanted you to know that I meant it when I said yes and we don't really have to do it if you changed your mind, it's just a symbol after all and we already have the house and that's a commitment too and we don't really need a priest to tell us we belong together and..." The words tumble over each other in one long nervous exhale until Jensen runs out of air, the sudden silence heavy between them.

Jared slips the ring on, holding his hand up to admire the way it gleams with the light spilling out from the living room and the lone tea light still burning in its holder on the sundeck railing. Taken, it's says silently. Loved.

"I..." Jared doesn't know what to say, biting down on the inside of his cheek trying to find a way to phrase how much this means to him, how much Jensen means to him. "I... Jen... Jesus."

Jensen smiles, but it trembles around the edges and shoves his hand into his other pocket, coming up with a matching ring for himself. He's about to slip it on but Jared stops him with a hand around his wrist.

"Let me," he whispers, his voice thick with repressed emotion.

Jensen meets his gaze and Jared slips the ring onto his finger, closing Jensen's hand between both of his. Jensen looks shell shocked, eyes wide open and lips parted in a surprised o.

"I couldn't decide on an inscription," Jensen says, looking down on their clasped hands. "So it's just our names. It's a bit lame, I know, but..."

"Jen," Jared says, interrupting him. "It's perfect."

Jensen blinks, swallowing. "I love you," he croaks and then he's moving, closing the space between them and pressing their lips together.

Jared pretends he can't taste the salt on Jensen's lips, pretends even harder that he's not adding his own to the mix, but he can't help it. He's feeling too much, as if his chest is expanding to accommodate for his swelling heart, every thump making him shake with the intensity of emotion.

He wonders if he'll ever come down from this high, if he'll ever look at his ring and it'll be just another piece of jewelry. It's hard to imagine when the weight of it on his finger is enough to make his dick harden and his heart beat faster. He pushes Jensen away, captures his face between both of his hands, distracted for a moment by the sight of the ring gleaming against Jensen's skin.

"I love you," he says, low and serious, trying to put everything Jensen means to him into those three words.

He's not sure he succeeds, but Jensen's eyes swim over, tears trailing down his cheeks, over his kiss-swollen, smiling mouth, to slowly drip from his chin, tiny spots of wetness landing on Jared's chest.

"Forever," Jensen whispers and it's a question as much as a statement, a shadow of doubt clouding his expression.

"Yeah," Jared promises, pulling Jensen in for a desperate kiss, their teeth clashing with urgency.

Jensen lifts his head again, eyes dark with arousal and lips shiny with spit. He presses one hand against Jared's chest as if to hold him off and sits back on his haunches.

"I just want to..." Jensen trails off and stares helplessly at Jared. "There's this thing I've wanted to tell you for a while and I don't know how to say it."

"Try," Jared murmurs, moving his hands to frame Jensen's hips.

"I love you."

Jared blinks. "I know."

"No," Jensen says, shaking his head in frustration. "You don't get it. I love you."

"Jen, I hate to break it to you but it's been kinda obvious for the last, I dunno, six years?"

Jensen sighs as if Jared's somehow retarded. "Just let me get this out, okay?"

Jared nods, pressing his thumbs into the warm flesh of Jensen's hips.

"It's... What I'm trying to say is... everything I am is thanks to you. I'm not always open about who I am or how much I love you, but I always feel it. There's... You're... I'm completely fucking lost without you and I just... I want it to be us. Always. I want to grow old with you and live with you and I'm going to haunt your sorry ass when I die, because I don't ever want to be without you. I'm just... You're my life, Jared. My One and I want you to know that."

Jared swallows past the lump in his throat, because he knows all of this, he does, but Jensen never really said it out loud before. He says I love you and he means it, but he never opened up like this, stripping down and baring his heart for Jared's greedy eyes to see.

"Jesus, Jen," he says, shaking his head because there are no words to express what he wants to say.

"Seeing you on the floor of that basement was the scariest thing that ever happened to me," Jensen elaborates. "I thought I was going to lose you and I mourned for all those things I never got to say to you, all those things we never got to do and I never want to feel like that again."

Jared leans forward, knocks their foreheads together and breathes Jensen in for a moment, eyes closed. Then he tilts his head to the side and presses a kiss to Jensen's half open mouth, the slight touch sending a thrill down to his toes. Forever has a good sound to it, as has lost without you and you're my one. There are no surprises, no earth shaking revelations, but there's the quiet certainty that they'll never end up on opposite sides of a river again.

"Canyon," Jensen whispers close to his ear, his lips touching Jared's earlobe, making him shiver. "We decided to go with canyon."

Jared grins and wraps his arms around Jensen, hugging him close. "Just so you know, I would so not end up hopping over to someone else. There's never been anyone but you."

Jensen delighted laugh is something like love and a lot like forever. He bends further forward, lips gracing the shell of Jared's ear again.

"Just so you know," he murmurs. "I'm wearing panties under my jeans."

From the living room The Bangles sings Eternal Flame and Jared slides his hand down the back of Jensen's jeans. They got through it, alive and together, and they will never be parted again.

The End