Can't you see we're meant to be: Frankie the Turtle strikes again 1/7
"So, Jared, I was wondering, wanna go out? We've been--ugh, no."
Jensen is going completely insane right now in the confines of his own home, pacing his bedroom.
He racks his brain for something more substantial to say than that. Surely he can come up with a better way to pop one of the biggest questions in a relationship.
If you can even call what he and Jared have a relationship.
It's been two months since Jensen nearly ran Jared over as he was trying to save a damn box turtle in the middle of the road, and things have taken quite the turn. It started with hanging out nearly every day since the almost-accident, and Jensen has the Best Fur-ends Forever t-shirts to prove it. The tight-knit group of volunteers had welcomed him like a long lost friend, and he looks forward to his daily visits.
Especially since every day after locking up for the night, Jared and Jensen walk a few blocks to Jared’s favorite hot dog stand and get their respective meals while they talk more. It's pretty much perfect. Or would be, if Jensen had even the slightest idea what the fuck he and Jared are to each other.
Friends? Certainly--there's no denying that one.
Dating? That's up for debate.
They're definitely not boyfriends, that's for sure.
But it's not for lack of trying, at least on Jensen’s part.
They share these moments--these short, tender moments in time where all they can see is each other. Jensen can’t look away, mesmerized, gripped with the feeling that Jared can’t possibly be real, that he might disappear if Jensen takes a breath or blinks his eyes. Jared teases him about it, but he’s doing the same thing, blushing even as he teases Jensen.
Jared also holds his hand in public whenever they're together, and yes, Jared hugs Jensen whenever they’ve been apart, pulling him close enough for Jensen to feel the solid muscles of his chest and smell his aftershave and the warm, sunshine scent that Jensen thinks is uniquely Jared. But that's usually where everything just stops.
Meanwhile, Jensen has been trying to subtly convey his attraction to Jared in return--slight touches, the lingering hugs, the actual fucking batting of his eyelashes. None of it works on Jared, which is so far outside Jensen’s experience that he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.
One moment Jared’s pressing his face into Jensen’s neck affectionately during a hug, and the next he treats him like they're nothing more than best friends. Not that Jensen minds the burn of Jared’s scruff against his throat, of course. He’d just like to feel it in some other places as well, and he’s starting to think that subtle just isn’t going to cut it.
"So, listen," Jensen says to himself as he gets his suit tie situated, rehearsing. "I like you. A lot. Let me take you downtown. I'll get a reservation to a nice spot I know, maybe have a little wine, some music--what the actual fuck, Ackles."
It only ends with Jensen growling, frustrated with the way his mind is working. He straightens his posture, glaring into the mirror within his walk-in closet, and clears his throat, trying again.
"I got this. Okay. Ahem. Jared, you and I have been together every day for 2 months. Crazy, right? So I was thinking…maybe we could take this further. Okay?"
Jensen looks at the reflection of himself, growing increasingly angry with his thought process.
"Who am I fooling?" Jensen says with a frustrated sigh. “This is not going to end well.”
He eventually pulls himself together, going through his usual walletkeysphonebriefcase routine as he heads out the door. Jensen is determined to see this through...somehow. He has to speak to Jared about this. Hot dogs are all well and good, but he wants an actual date, preferably sometime this decade.
Jensen grips his steering wheel tighter, trying to calm down by thinking of Jared’s smile and the way his hair flips up at the ends and how it’s impossible to describe his eyes rationally only to find himself trying to drive with his dick half hard.
This is going to be harder than he thought, pun so intended.
****
He’s in a meeting, listening with half an ear to the third revision of a proposition he has no intention of approving, thinking about this evening, when his phone dings. He takes a peek, hoping it’s Jared, and smiles when he sees familiar floppy hair and dimples.
"Dogs are wonderful creatures. You know what's NOT wonderful? Letting them dogpile onto you. It's a sure way to get peed on."
A selfie of Jared is attached that shows him giving the camera a tight lipped smile, baby blue t-shirt soaked with what Jensen can only assume is dog urine. It's both cute and disgusting, but Jensen can’t help an answering grin. He texts Jared back quickly.
"Please, for the love of all that is holy, take a shower before I come down."
Not even 20 seconds go by before his phone dings again.
"Don't worry, I'll get all cleaned up for you, okay? You won't hug me otherwise."
"Damn straight."
"You give the best hugs, Jack."
Jensen can feel himself flushing as he reads the last message. Jared had given him that nickname, a combination of his first and last names, and the intimacy of Jared having a name that’s just for him to use, no one else, leaves Jensen heart aching along with his dick. He wants Jared to whisper that name as he comes, wants to hear it again when they wake up in the morning, sleepy and half hard. Wants to see Jared’s dimples as he says it over breakfast, lunch and dinner. The thought makes him smile wistfully, until he’s yanked out of his fantasies by the sound of someone clearing their throat impatiently.
When Jensen glances up, all eyes are on him. Waiting. His smile dissipates, replaced with that classic workroom scowl he's perfected over the years.
"I apologize, there was a minor emergency at home. Could you repeat that, please?” Jensen pastes on his politely, coldest smile, the one that frequently sends newer employees fleeing in terror of his wrath.
Christian Kane, a close colleague who knows better, just laughs, shaking his head. "We're discussing the Fairpoint deal. Collins just gave us his revised pitch, and now we're waiting on you to say yes or no so we can go to lunch."
Jensen forces himself not to grimace. Collins is a slimy little weasel whose proposals always sound good, but inevitably end up being an enormous waste of time and money. However, he’s familiar enough with the Fairpoint deal, and with Collins’ plans for it, that he has no problems offering an opinion.
"My thoughts on the Fairpoint deal haven’t changed, Misha. It's attractive, up to a point, but in the long run it offers nothing substantial enough to overlook the potential pitfalls. The shortcuts and end runs that barely skirt legality and morality are not what this company needs to move forward.”
Rage flickers across Collins’ face before he quickly schools his expression into an ingratiating smile. Both expressions remind Jensen that he needs to look harder for a replacement--Collins brings a lot of clients and money into the company, but too many of them are shady and questionable. After this Fairpoint mess, Jensen’s decided he’s not worth the risk to their reputation.
Once the meeting is over, Jensen retreats to his office where he quickly snaps a picture of himself behind his desk, trying to look stern and professional even though he’s a ragged bundle of nerves and happiness inside. He sends the picture to Jared with a caption.
"Almost lunch time. Kinda bored, wish you were here."
Dog pee and all?
Jensen"s just about to respond when there's a knock at his office door. He shoves his phone aside and flips open the nearest file, pretending to study the contract inside, then curses internally at his anxious insecurity. He's the boss. If he wants to text his hopefully soon to be boyfriend on his lunch break, that's his prerogative, damn it.
"Come in," he says, voice exuding authority.
In steps Christian Kane, the grinning bastard. Jensen sighs as his best friend swings the door shut with a thud and slouches bonelessly into the chair in front of Jensen's desk. They've been working together for years, ever since they met at a local dive and Kane dragged Jensen up on stage to sing with his band. Jensen had recommended him for a job as soon as his hangover subsided, on the grounds that anyone who could get him on a stage with a mic in his hand was someone they needed on board. Many people have come and gone since then, but Christian has stuck by his side through thick and thin. No one else gets him regarding business matters like Chris does, and there's no one he trusts more with his personal life, either.
"By the look on your face, I'd say I'm interrupting something," says Chris, smirking gleefully as he kicks his boots up onto Jensen's desk in a move designed to get under Jensen's skin. "I am, aren’t I?"
Jensen huffs, ducking his head to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. "No. Not at all. Just reviewing some files. What's up?"
"You tell me. You've been a little...distracted lately." Chris sounds serious now, and Jensen winces a little internally. This business is his baby, and he owes it to Chris and everyone else employed here to give one hundred percent. But surely he hasn’t been that distracted.