Genre: J2 RPS
Word Count: ~500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no more, no less.
Summary: Jared is drawn to a sleeping Jensen. In other words, I cannot really summarize this one, it is both sad and a little hopeful.
A/N: Basically I could not sleep last night for a number of reasons, and this just sort of popped out of nowhere. I awoke this morning, read it over and figured I'd delete it, and then changed my mind. This is unbeta'ed, therefore feel free to point out any errors.
Feedback: Any and all comments and constructive criticisms are welcome and more than appreciated, tell me what you liked, tell me what you did not like, and make me a better writer!
Jared’s feet led him unbidden to the slightly cracked door across from his own. He pushed it slowly open.
Jared watched for uncounted minutes, breath coming slow and silent, in rebellion against the rapid rush of blood in his veins, its movement sounding loud and intrusive in his ears. Jensen was asleep on his stomach, blankets pooled around his waist, his face buried in the crook of an elbow. Jared stared at Jensen as he slept--his eyes slip sliding across the muscular planes of strong shoulders, his back tapering in a ‘V’ down to his waist. The line of his spine, the projection of his shoulder blades, every tendon was as familiar to Jared as his own. Jared knew intimately how each ridge and dip felt under his curious fingers; he remembered the vibrant feeling of smooth skin and muscles, remembered their movement under his hands.
He questioned why things had gone so far and wondered how everything had unraveled. Perhaps because of proximity, or familiarity, or shared experience. Jared mused that these were the possible answers to both questions, the how and why not. There had been no misunderstandings, no fights, and no blame, nothing but an indistinctly understood necessity, a reality. Not a requirement, only a necessity. There was somehow a difference.
Staring at Jensen, Jared could no longer resist the pull; it felt like a sort of imperative born of some instinct to push away this feeling of aloneness. He walked silently on bare feet toward a bed that was too small for both of them. Lifting the blankets, he slipped in, and lay down on his side, placing a hand on Jensen’s back as it moved up and down in the constant rhythm of breathing.
He listened as Jensen breathed in, a heavy rush of air through his nose, and Jared read the signs of Jensen’s emergence from sleep. Without a word, Jensen turned to his side, facing Jared with eyes still closed. He slipped a leg between Jared’s, as Jared wrapped his around Jensen’s hip. It was a familiar movement, a habit that had been repeated a hundred times on a hundred nights. A habit that had not yet been broken.
Jensen placed Jared’s hand to his chest, covering Jared’s hand with his own, tangling their fingers loosely.
After several long minutes, Jared whispered, “I love you. I wanted you to know, before… you should know that.” He was sure that Jensen has slipped back into sleep.
“I love you more, Jared.” Jensen replied, and Jared was surprised at how lucid, how awake he sounded.
“Thank you.” It was all Jared could think to say.
In the darkness, things could be confessed in a way that the reality of daylight never allowed.