Reunion (J2), NC17

[runedgirl]

Title: Reunion
Author: runedgirl
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC17
A/N: Not historically accurate as far as pandemic timelines but hey, it's fiction. For smpc

Summary: It's been a long time, and Jared really wants to see Jensen.



Reunion

“Heard you were bored,” the text says. Jensen rolls his eyes, scratching at the overgrown beard that’s driving him crazy. He’s finally finished filming the sequences that require him to look like a castaway tomorrow and can’t wait to get rid of it. He’s even hoping his character will stay clean shaven for a while.

“Thanks for rubbing it in,” he replies.

Jared sends a smiley face emoji back, and Jensen sighs. Sure, it’s exciting starting a new project, but it’s been lonely up here in Canada, without his family, without his best friend. Partner in crime. Whatever they are.

There’s a pause, and Jensen thinks Jared’s had to go back to filming or is dealing with something else, then his phone buzzes again.

“Be home tomorrow at 9 pm.”

“Why?”

“You still trust me, right?”

It sounds like a serious question. It’s been a long year of being mostly apart, but some things will never change. That’s one of them.

“Always. Like Dean trusts Sam.”

It’s a private joke, nothing he’d say out loud to anyone else. Jared texts back an emoji that may not be the one he intended, a blushing grin that’s nevertheless endearing.

It helps get through one more day with the beard, wondering what Jared’s planning for 9 pm. He waits for a zoom link or some more information, but nothing comes, so he’s home (at the condo that won’t ever be that) when his phone buzzes at 9:10 pm.

“Buzz me up.”

What the hell? There’s no way, he’s in fucking Canada and the pandemic restrictions have only been released for a week. There’s no way Jared is at his door.

“I know you’re up there, Ackles. Buzz me in!”

Jensen’s wearing a pair of way too worn sweatpants and a tee shirt, and he hasn’t had a chance to shave and his hair looks – well, it looks like he’s been living the kind of circumstances his character has for  years. It’s… not attractive.

He buzzes the front doors anyway. Two minutes later, sure as fuck, there’s a knock on his door. Jensen swings it open, half expecting it to be a delivery guy with a bottle of scotch, but no. It’s Jared, all six foot plus of him and a smile that lights Jensen up from the inside until he can’t help matching it.

“Holy shit, you crazy motherfucker,” he gets out before he’s grabbed and pulled into an embrace that has Jensen crashing against Jared’s chest, barely able to breathe within the strong arms pressing them together with all the force of a year of mostly separation.

“Missed you, Ackles,” Jared whispers against Jensen’s ear. He ducks his head down, lets Jensen hold him too. He feels like Sam like this, like the little brother no matter how big he is. Jensen cups the back of Jared’s head, pulls him closer.

They probably hug for way too long, but they’ve always been like this with each other, physical and just not caring. Bob rolled his eyes at them filming the finale of the show they did together for fifteen years, but he didn’t try to dissuade them from making Sam and Dean every bit as close as the men who play them are.

“Missed you too, brother,” Jensen returns, and he hears Jared sigh.

They put a little space between them with some effort, Jared finally walking into the room enough that Jensen can close the door behind him.

They’re both giddy for a while, catching up on the events of the past few days since they last talked, finishing each other’s sentences because the closeness always comes back, no matter how much time they spend apart. Jared is eager to talk over some issues on his new show that he doesn’t trust anyone else to hear, and Jensen is eager to admit that he’s nervous, the new guy for the first time in a long time. As much as Sam and Dean were everything to each other because nobody else could ever really hope to understand their lives, Jared and Jensen pretty much feel the same.

They’re on their third drink when Jared reaches over and grabs Jensen’s overgrown beard, giving it a little tug, chuckling.

“That’s some facial hair you got there,” he teases, but his eyes are twinkling, playful.

Jared has got a nicely trimmed bit of beard slash scruff going, his new character’s look so different from Sam.

Jensen reaches up and pushes Jared’s hair back behind his ears, a gesture that’s familiar to both Dean and himself. It’s weird that there’s not much hair to push anymore.

“You lost some, I gained some.”

Jared’s hand slips up the side of his face, pushes the long lock of hair that keeps falling in Jensen’s face back into place.

“I like it,” he says softly. “The hair anyway.”

Jensen snorts, lets his hand fall back to the couch. “Can’t wait to get rid of the rest of it,” he admits.

Jared’s eyes twinkle a little more.

“No time like the present then,” he suggests. “You got some scissors? And a good razor?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Jared does not look like he’s kidding.

“You said you trusted me,” Jared points out, and it’s true, Jensen does. There’s just something very…intimate…about what Jared’s suggesting. They haven’t been like that, done anything like that, in a long time. Not since the last night of filming, when the emotions were too much to handle and they reached for each other in a way they hadn’t all that often in recent years, though there were no secrets among all of them and no judgments. Life was complicated, but life was good, and their friendship was solid and that was often enough. That night, though, they’d needed the reassurance that they were both alive. It was a lot to know that they’d be separated too once the show ended, even if not for decades like Sam and Dean.

“With my life,” Jensen answers finally, and gets a soft smile in return.

“Okay then, come on.”

Jensen settles on the closed toilet seat while Jared runs the hot water, the steam filling up the small room, the mirror fogging over. He has to look up more than usual to see Jared, who’s looking down at him with an odd expression on his face. Tender, maybe.

“Stay still,” Jared warns, and then starts in with the scissors, curls of reddish hair streaked with a little gray falling onto the towels he’s laid beneath them. Jared holds his chin with authority, tilting his head this way and that as he works, until he nods and says phase one accomplished. Jensen feels lighter already.

Jared moistens a washcloth and lays it on his freshly shorn face, pushes Jensen’s head back until he’s resting against the sink counter.

“Here,” he says, and puts a folded towel beneath Jensen’s head, and Jensen feels like Dean all of a sudden, Sam taking care of him, familiar hands making sure he’s okay. Jensen closes his eyes, emotions swirling back – affection mixed with a sharp pang of loss. They’re not those people anymore; so who are they to each other? Who will ever get him like Jared does, like Sam did?

He startles a little when Jared’s fingers caress his hairline, stroking down his temple, pushing the long hair back again.

“Feel good?” Jared asks, and his voice is deeper than usual, pitched low and soft in the small room. It’s hot, the steam making him sweat, the damp cloth warm on his face and he knows he’s pink underneath.

“Yeah,” is all he manages. Their voices are too loud in here, breaking a spell that Jared’s weaving that Jensen doesn’t want to end.

Jared rubs the shaving cream on next, fingers sure and steady stroking over his close cropped beard, and Jensen wonders what he looks like to Jared looking down on him. He’s suddenly aware that his dick isn’t exactly soft anymore; he’s been up here for a month untouched except for his own hand and everything is familiar about Jared – the warmth of his big fingers, the way he has his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration when Jensen opens his eyes for a second. The smell of him, sweating in the too-warm bathroom, the two of them too close. Jensen drinks it in, wants to have that again, wants to remember.

Jared’s gentle but his fingers are proprietary on Jensen’s jaw, his chin, tilting his head to the angle Jared wants it at as he slowly and methodically scrapes his face clean.  Jensen shifts a little, dick shifting with him, half hard now and he wonders if Jared’s noticed yet; what he’ll feel if he does.

He keeps his eyes closed the rest of the time, putting himself in Jared’s hands like Dean would with Sam, the feel of Jared’s fingers now warmer, skin to skin now that Jensen’s bare under his hands.

“Yeah,” Jared says softly, and Jensen looks up into Jared’s sparkling eyes, dark and serious. “There he is.”

The deliberate reference undoes Jensen’s calm; he can feel his eyes tearing up and swallows hard, caught in Jared’s gaze and not knowing where this is going.

“Missed you,” Jared says again, and then he pulls Jensen to his feet and puts his mouth on Jensen’s face, his lips moist on the newly revealed skin of his chin, his cheeks, his throat.

Jensen doesn’t mean to moan but that’s how it comes out, the shock of his cock pressed up against the firmness of Jared’s jeans sending a wave of pleasure through him. He gets his arms up and wrapped around Jared so he’ll know this isn’t a one sided idea, and Jared bites across his jaw and gets to his mouth, his tongue hot and insistent and kissing Jensen just the way he remembers.

It’s muscle memory almost, to rut with hips and get hands on each other, Jared plunging eager fingers down the front of his sweats while Jensen works the snap and zip of Jared’s fly, the familiar feel of Jared’s big dick in his hand a bigger turn-on than Jensen admits out loud. They’re both leaking, slick and hot and easy to manhandle, and this is something they never forget, the rhythm that the other likes, the twist just so and the pressure that makes the other one groan.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Jared growls against Jensen’s mouth, his arm long enough to wrap around Jensen and get a hand down the back of his sweatpants to push inside him just a little, just enough to make Jensen think about what they’ve never done but what it might be like, how much he sometimes wants this man to fucking take him apart. He comes at that, fingers squeezing Jared’s cock harder with the spasms, and the little bit of pain pushes Jared over too. They gasp into the kiss they’re reluctant to end, uncoordinated as they wring the last bits of pleasure from each other, hands sticky, the tiny room filled with steam and the smell of them.

“Missed you too,” Jensen says when he’s caught his breath. He uses the damp washcloth to clean up a little; Jared isn’t squeamish about using the same one for himself. Jensen lets himself watch as Jared wipes his cock off, still big even soft in his hand as he tucks it away.

Jared wants to say something about it, he can tell, maybe I know you like my dick, but he doesn’t.  He runs the back of his hand over Jensen’s cheek instead, feeling the smoothness of the skin there. Jensen nearly closes his eyes again, the touch so welcome.

“Thanks,” Jared says, though it’s clearly a mutual feeling.

It’s easy – it’s always easy – to sprawl out on the couch after and watch Netflix and enjoy each other’s company. They miss half the movie constantly remembering things they have to tell each other, but it’s usually that way between them anyway. They fall asleep there in the wee hours of the morning, Jared with a hand still on the bowl of tortilla chips between them, their bare feet entangled on the floor. In the morning they’ll go get fast food and drink coffee and laugh at stupid shit that nobody else would find funny, and Jared will catch an Uber to the airport after because he’s got to film on Monday and lots of other responsibilities that will kick in long before that.

Jared turns before he gets into the car and cups Jensen’s face again, smiling with his mouth and his eyes.

“Good to see you again,” he says, and the tip of his finger brushes over Jensen’s bottom lip, deliberate.

Jensen keeps smiling all the way back up to his condo. He feels like himself again – and it’s not because he’s clean shaven.

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