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Jensen’s lips were moving, but Jared couldn’t hear what he was saying. The carpet had to be rough on his knees -- his worn gray pants offering little protection -- but it didn’t show on his solemn face. Those expressive eyes were closed, hiding whatever Jensen might be feeling, but it was probably for the best: Jared was scared to know. Jared was too much of a coward to tell Jensen that if either of them were going to go to Hell, it would be Jared. No man should be so aroused to see his lover on his knees in prayer. He shouldn’t even be watching Jensen at this moment, nonetheless staring at his full lips as they moved in silent supplication. Finally, Jensen’s lips stopped moving, and he rested his forehead on his clasped hands. Jared hesitated in the doorway. Even after two months of sharing a bed, over a year living in the same house, he still wasn’t sure if he should intrude. “I sometimes feel weird kneeling beside the bed like this,” Jensen admitted quietly, and Jared took that as his cue to step forward. “I feel childish, but I guess that’s part of the point.” Still a little hesitant, Jared rested a hand on Jensen’s shoulder. He didn’t share with Jensen his thoughts about seeing him on his knees. Unlike what everyone thought, he could occasionally hold his tongue. By Jensen’s small smile, though, Jared thought Jensen probably knew. He brushed the crinkles beside Jensen’s eyes with a loving finger. “My mom asked me why I still pray,” Jensen said abruptly. It was by force of will that Jared kept up his casual movements. Jensen made no move to get up. “She said that it didn’t make sense that I still pray when I’m…” With you, Jared finished with a flinch. He squeezed Jensen’s shoulder but said nothing. Jensen sighed. Finally, he looked up, eyes soft. “There was a lot I could have said back,” he said quietly. “But you don’t say that type of stuff to your mama.” Jared bit back how you weren’t supposed to say stuff like that to your son, either, but he knew that Jensen knew, anyway. Falling to his knees, he pulled Jensen into his arms. Jensen just fell into him, eyes distant. Words tickled the inside of Jared’s mouth like Jensen’s hair tickled his nose. He breathed into the scent of vanilla shampoo, felt Jensen warm and solid in his arms. He wanted to kiss Jensen’s bared neck, press his lips to each of Jensen’s freckles. He wanted to hold Jensen’s clasped hands in his own, kiss each knuckle. “I love you,” Jared said simply, but he knew Jensen heard more than that. I believe in God, but you’re the one I worship. Jensen was the first to lean forward to press their mouths together. Jensen could speak without words, too.