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Ain't It Driving You Crazy

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Jensen was trying to code.

Emphasis on trying.

He had this idea for an app and it was really sweet and it would sell like hotcakes—

Wait. Did hotcakes really sell? Jensen actually had no idea. He wasn't even really sure what hotcakes were. Pancakes, maybe? He could totally go for some pancakes right about now. Especially with some butter and a little maple syrup? Or, for that matter, a lot of maple syrup? Mmmmmmm, maple syrup.

Gah.

Anyway.

Coding. Right. Jensen was coding. He was totally trying to code and was not being distracted by thoughts of food or by Cougar. He was especially not distracted by the fact that Cougar was sitting on the other end of the couch engrossed in a book and totally ignoring him.

Well, not totally ignoring him, which was the problem.

Jensen was sitting on his side of the couch, his back against the arm, minding his own business. He was working hard, coding away, and since he was coding he had on lucky dinosaur boxers and was wearing his favorite pair of fuzzy socks (the pink ones, not the one with stripes- those lost favored status after the incident with the capybara that he never wants to think about ever again.). Because his left knee was bugging him he had that leg stretched out in front of him with a pillow under it. There was enough room on the couch that there were a couple of inches between where his foot ended and where Cougar's thigh began, so it should all be fine, right?

Right?

Except it wasn't because Cougar was a sneaky, sneaky bastard and he was stroking the sole of Jensen's foot as he read. Without looking at Jensen. Without seeming to be even aware he was doing it. Not that Jensen believed that because Cougar was never unaware of anything he did, but this time it almost seemed like that was what was going on- that Cougar was doing it without giving it any thought. There was no rhythm to it, Cougar simply had his hand wrapped around Jensen's foot and every once in awhile his thumb would go up, up, up the bottom of his foot, several times in a row, and then stop. Gently. Slowly. Not in any kind of ticklish way, but kind of almost… intimately?

It was distracting.

But the thing was, Jensen really, really, really did not want Cougar to stop. Coding be damned, it felt good.

"Cougs?" he asked eventually, a few minutes after Cougar added a light massaging of the top of his foot to the stroking of the sole.

Cougar replied with that vaguely agreeable slight humming noise of his but didn't look up from his book.

Jensen cleared his throat. "What'cha doing?"

Ever the verbose one, Cougar looked up from his book to raise an eyebrow at Jensen, pointedly looked back down at the book in his hand and then back at Jensen.

"Right," Jensen said, because really, what other kind of way could he respond? Technically, Cougar did answer his question. If it was an entirely unhelpful answer, that was sort of Jensen's own fault by not being more specific in the first place.

Mentally shaking his head, he got back to work.

Up, up, up.

Feather light touches.

Gahhh.

Right. Coding. With a ridiculous amount of effort Jensen turned his attention back to his screen and whatever the hell it was he just typed.

Whirly patterns of Cougar's thumb along his foot.

He was coding. Right. He could do this.

Soft, gentle squeezes.

Up, up, up.

Okay, that was fine. This was fine. Jensen was a grown man, a professional. He wasn't some kid who would be easily distracted by…

Stroke, squeeze, stroke.

Fuck this.

"Cougar?"

"¿Sí?"

"Want to go fool around?"

A devilish smile crept across Cougar's face. "I thought you would never ask."