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Crawling Back To You

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Jensen’s not the sentimental type. He doesn’t have keepsakes, memorabilia. He uses weapons how he needs them, replaces them when they jam or when he finds something better. The oldest thing he owns is his current pair of boots. He’s had them for three years now and the only reason why he hasn’t replaced them yet is that breaking in a new pair is a pain, especially because the roping scar tissue on his ankle chafes easily.

Anyway. Jensen’s not the sentimental type. And yet he’s here.

The planet’s cold, caught in an eternal winter. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Jensen knows winter as freezing, stormy, heaps of snow drifts, frost on the windows. Not here.

It’s cold, but dry. No wind. It’s an eerie silence, a sharp contrast to the life out there. Jensen’s life. A hard life, sure, but Jensen made it his own. He has a reputation, out there between the wild fringe planets of the collapsed empire, space without law where only guns and cunning rule. It’s neither a good life, nor honest, but there’s a deep satisfaction in clawing yourself out of whatever shit the universe dumps on you.

And yet.

Jensen walks the winding path between the large light gray stones, smooth surfaces stretching up elegant and slim towards the pale sky.

He reaches the lake, dark blue and quiet.

Jensen’s life isn’t quiet. There’s always a fight, a chase, the thrum of an engine, an oxygen system humming, clinking of metal, a gun charging. Space looks quiet if you stare at the vast darkness, but the life Jensen leads within it is anything but. He likes it that way.

And yet.

He puts his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the coin. It used to have a pattern on it, symbols bossed into the metal, but over the past year they’ve smoothed out, every time Jensen brushed his fingers over the soft metal.

He’s not sentimental, doesn’t hold on to thing.

And yet.

He walks along the lake. Ignores the suffocating quiet.

Behind a cluster of broad dark trees is the house. Small, built out of wood, not metal, and smoke rises from its chimney. It’s going to be warm in there.

Jensen pauses. Asks himself what he’s doing here. He pulls out the coin, let’s it dance across his fingers.

Thinks about the last time he was here, crash-landed after a fight gone wrong. He’d been in bad shape, tired after too many jobs, too many close calls, too many scars that were still pink.

He’d lain in the remnants of the ship and wondered if this was it.

Jared had found him. Had hauled him into his own bed. To heal, he’d said, after he’d caught Jensen staring at his ass.

To survive in space, you gotta be persistent. Jared and his pretty ass never stood a chance. As it turned out, neither did Jensen.

Jensen isn’t sentimental, doesn’t get attached. He never stays longer than one night.

And yet.

“You’re back.”

Slowly, Jensen turns. Jared’s standing between the trees, a bag slung over his shoulder. Out to get food then. Jared tilts his head, watches him silently.

Just as well. Jensen’s not really up to talking right now.

Jared’s hair is still shiny and Jensen remembers how it feels, silky soft when dry or heavy and slick when sticky with sweat.

Jared’s eyes, ever-changing color like the lake in front of his house, Jensen remembers how they look when they burn with desire or when they close in pleasure.

Pink lips, Jensen remembers how they taste.

This kid. Jensen’s not sentimental. But this kid.

Jared quirks his lips into a smile. He turns to the house and Jensen follows.

Inside, Jared dumps the satchel on his small table. Jensen wants to give him space, time to adjust, but then Jared turns, eyes big and curious, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Jensen’s over there in four steps, hands buried in Jared’s hair. Jared’s mouth falls open and Jensen sucks on his bottom lip so he can hear him gasp.

Jared’s wearing layers and Jensen takes his time peeling him out of all of them. Jared’s heavy coat, his scarf, his sweater. The undershirt and finally, there’s skin, warm and smooth, unmarked by the chaos out there. Jensen remembers marveling at it last time, and he drags his fingers down Jared’s ribcage, until his fingers catch on a slim line. He looks down, sees the pink ragged line right below Jared’s ribs.

“Slipped on a snowbank,” Jared murmurs.

Furiously, Jensen bites at the skin. That’s not supposed to happen out here.

Jared lets out a breathless laugh, fingers dragging through Jensen’s hair, pulling him towards the bed. “It wasn’t bad. I’m okay.”

When Jared’s legs hit the bed, Jensen lets him sit down, watches him as Jared lies down, spread out and unashamed. Jared reaches out a hand, beckons him, as if that were necessary.

Jared smiles when Jensen joins him again, smile too knowing for Jensen’s comfort. Jensen bites at his lips, kisses him thorough and deep, until Jared gasps for air and his fingers scrabble at Jensen’s shoulders. Jensen digs his fingers into Jared’s hips, makes his long body arch. He moves lower, gets Jared completely bare, enjoys the feeling of his warm body, the strong muscles moving under his skin.

“You should take off your clothes too,” Jared grumbles.

Jensen just shoulders between Jared’s leg. He toes his boots off in the process, strips off his sweater, but Jared’s body is calling him and Jensen can’t stay away.

Jared lets out something that’s half-laugh and half-groan and lets his legs fall open, lets Jensen explore and take him, lets his mouth and hands roam, just raising his hips in short aborted thrusts.

Jensen takes his time opening Jared up, listens to the noises he makes, the small gasps and moans, listens to the way Jared’s hands rustle the sheets when he clenches and unclenches his fists.

At some point, he gargles out Jensen’s name and it breaks the trance. Jensen stalks up Jared’s body and is greeted by Jared’s frantic hands, tearing off his worn undershirt, wrestling with his belt and pants.

Something tears when Jensen gets off his pants, then his thigh holster clatters to the floor, but Jensen doesn’t care because he’s between Jared’s long legs, finally sinking inside, all the way, and Jared pulls him down and kisses him so sweetly.

Jensen holds on, shoves his arms under Jared’s shoulders, grips him tight, doesn’t leave any space between them. Jared’s skin is sweat slick, his hairs dark against his neck, and Jensen licks up his neck, tastes salt and smoke and Jared.

Impatiently, Jared throws a leg around Jensen and digs a heel into his ass. Jensen gets a hand into his hair, draws his head back, stretches Jared’s body long, exposing his neck. He bites at it while Jared just holds on and breathes.

“Please.” Jared breaks so beautifully. “C’mon, fuck me, please.”

Jensen sits up on his haunches and pulls Jared closer, ass over Jensen’s thighs, no leverage and Jared smiles through the sweaty strands of his hair, licks his lips, wraps his tongue around a canine.

Jensen groans, grips Jared’s hips tight and starts fucking him. He gets a foot on the floor for leverage, taking Jared deep and hard, watching his pretty pink lips shape soundlessly around Jensen’s name, again and again. Jensen doesn’t need to hear it, can see it, right there, and it makes his heart tight in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar.

Jared throws his head to the side, eyes screwed shut, trying to match the rhythm of Jensen’s hips and Jensen’s getting close, can’t stop the pressure building with Jared so hot and tight around him, perfect and pretty.

He takes Jared in hand, hard and leaking, and Jared’s eyes fly open to stare at Jensen, irises eaten up by the dark of his pupils. Jensen strokes him, watches his breathing speed up, his pulse hammer away at his neck until Jared’s whole body arches into a beautiful curve and he comes all over Jensen’s fist.

Jensen leans down, kisses the choppy breaths out of Jared’s mouth, and shoves inside of him, as deep as he can, and his release surges violently through his body, making him weak and shaky. He collapses on Jared, lets himself lie on his chest, just listening to Jared’s erratic heartbeat slowly calming down.

Jared hums and puts a hand on Jensen’s back, slowly strokes up and down, drawing a pattern Jensen doesn’t understand.

It’s quiet in the cabin, the silence only broken by the sounds of their breathing and the rustling of the sheet. Jensen closes his eyes and falls asleep.


He wakes to sunshine on his face. The curtains are drawn back and light filters in through the windows. Jensen’s alone in the bed. He feels the other pillow and it’s still warm, looks around the cabin, but Jared’s nowhere to be found. Though Jensen can hear the sound of running water from the bathroom at the other end of the cabin.

Jensen gets out of bed, thinks of Jared naked under the shower and makes his way over there.


After, Jared makes him breakfast, meat and bread and some dried fruit. It’s delicious.

“So,” Jared says afterwards. “I know you're not the chatty type, but can you give me something here?”

Jensen eats the last of the fruit, chews slowly. “What do you want to hear?”

Jared shrugs. “I don’t know. How long you’re planning on staying maybe? What you've been up to in the meantime? Why you came back?” Jared’s lips quirk. “Or you know, your last name if you want to start with the basics.”

“I don’t know,” Jensen says. “Too much. I don’t know.” He smirks at Jared. “And my last name is not part of the basics.”

Jared laughs and shakes his head. “Okay fine, be that way. But as long as you’re here, you’re pulling your weight.”

They spend the day outside collecting firewood. Jensen helps Jared chop down a tree. It takes a long time to get through the thick part and the wide trunk, but when the tree falls, it’ll give Jared wood for weeks.

They fish and hunt, and at night, they fuck. Once, they fuck outside. Jensen freezes his ass off, but he can’t resist Jared anymore when the kid stands in the snow with a red nose, glinting eyes, and pure innocent joy as he watches a group of rabbits jump through the snow.

Jensen takes him right there in the snow and when they get back to Jared’s cabin, they’re wet and cold, and Jared drags him in front of the fire. They take off their soppy clothes and Jared gets them a thick blanket. They share body heat and bask in the warmth of the fire and they kiss, until they fall asleep curled up around each other.

The next morning, it’s too quiet. Jensen stares into his bowl and feels the itch build. He doesn’t get it, why this here isn’t enough, doesn’t know why he misses the noise and the violence, but he doesn’t want to go down the dark hole of examining it either.

Jared takes his hand, looks at him with kind eyes. “Go.”

“Why?” Jensen asks.

Jared’s lips twist into a broken smile. “I like my peace and quiet.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

Jensen stays the rest of the day and they don’t leave the bed. Jensen commits Jared’s body to memory, kisses every inch of it, takes him again and again until they’re both exhausted and the bed stinks of them.

The next morning, he packs his bag. It’s a long trek back to where he landed his ship.

Jared walks him to the door. He’s holding something in his hand.

“Found this on the floor.”

It’s the coin. The last time, when Jensen had nothing, Jared had given him a pouch of hard currency. Jensen had spent all but one. Slowly, Jensen takes the coin.

Jared's smile is bright. A lot happy and a little smug. “Safe travels.”

Jensen steals one last kiss, warm and soft, and leaves.

Jensen isn’t a sentimental person. And yet.

He puts the coin into his deepest pocket and he thinks he’s going to keep it for a while longer.