![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Caught Inside, 4/4
-- 4 --
Jared does come by that night, not that anyone has time to do more than slap a bottle of his Redoak on the bar for him. The weather's picking up off-shore, Jensen gathers, which corresponds to the north shore breaks getting pounded, which sets up some kind of an alert, which means an entirely new set of tourists, the ones who aren't totally into it and haven't been there waiting around already, flooding into town.
"Good Christ," Chris says, elbowing his way up to the bar. Jensen digs out the bottles of water they keep buried in the ice machine and shoves them in Chris's direction along with a bottle of Wild Turkey. If there's one thing he's sure of, it's that Chris and Steve can pour their own shots. "If I wanted this level of crazy, I'd have stayed in LA."
Jensen's saved from having to actually agree with Chris in front of witnesses by the arrival of yet another wave of orders from the floor. Jeff's trading insults with a dozen different guys, barely looking at what he's pouring, but Jensen hasn't seen him miss yet, which is probably a decent talent to nurture when you run a bar.
Jensen hasn't quite gotten to that level of expertise, so he's looking down at the rum going into the glasses he's got lined up on the bar when the shit hits the fan, in the form of Sandy throwing a tray of empties against the door to the kitchen. It's noisy enough in the room that it probably doesn't even register more than 10 feet away, but Jensen's right there on that end of the bar.
"Oh, hell," Jeff mutters, and Jensen's first thought is that some dick made a grab for her, but then he realizes the only guy near her is Zack or Zeke or whatever the hell his name is, and her fury is clearly focused on him. Jared's on his feet and moving through the crowd, and Jensen can see the start to a serious brawl in his eyes, which suits the crazy energy that's crawling under his own skin. Jensen looks across the bar and smiles at Chris. Chris smiles back and if things don't change soon, Jensen might have to admit he likes the guy.
"We got it," Jensen calls down to Jeff, picking up the Louisville Slugger Jeff really does keep propped against the dishwasher and ducking under the short end.
"I got first dibs on Prince Charming; I've had to listen to him longer," Chris says to Jensen. "You go deal with the kid."
Jensen nods and peels off at an angle that'll let him intercept Jared.
"Not now, Jensen," Jared says. Jensen's pretty sure he's not drunk, but he's not taking his eyes off Sandy and it's crystal clear he's seeing everything through a red haze.
"You," Jensen says, getting right up in Jared's face, "Do not need assault charges filed against you tonight, not with fifty media outlets set up a couple of miles from here with live satellite feeds."
Jared pushes into him, but Jensen's got his feet set and isn't giving an inch. "I'm not gonna do anything stupid--"
"It doesn't matter," Jensen growls. "You get within ten feet of that ass, and I guarantee he'll file charges." Jared hesitates and Jensen presses him back. "I swear, we'll get him out of here." When Jared opens his mouth, Jensen adds, "And I'm pretty sure Kane isn't going to pass on a chance to raise a little hell, so he'll probably end up with a black eye or two."
Jared holds firm for another couple of seconds, but then finally backs off.
"Okay," Jensen says, taking a deep breath. "Go give Jeff a hand while I take out the trash." Jared doesn't smile, but he lets Jensen shove him in the general direction of where Jeff's pulling beers, at the opposite end of the bar. Jensen watches to make sure he isn't going to double-back and end up undoing everything. Jared's still glaring, but Jensen figures Jeff'll keep him from doing anything too stupid.
Chris has Z-Boy halfway through the kitchen door; Jensen can see a nice shiner starting, which Jensen is betting came from Sandy, if the way Sandy's cradling one hand in the other is any indication. It hasn't shut the jerk up, though. "Sandy, honey, come on. Let's go somewhere more private and I can explain--"
"What's to explain, Zack, honey?" Sandy demands, clearly still riding the adrenaline rush of fury. "Also, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm working right now, but I forgot, waiting tables, that's just code for so fucking desperate for someone to take care of me, I won't notice that you never, ever take my calls."
"Married," Chris mutters to Jensen, under the general noise.
"Nice," Jensen drawls. "Boring and unoriginal, too."
"I was too stupid to figure it out before now," Sandy spits out. "But hey, I finally clued in, so no, I don't want to go someplace more private with you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you."
"And, that's our cue," Jensen says, pointing at Zack with the bat. "Exit, stage left."
"The pretty boy over there? He's an actor," Chris says, dragging Zack the rest of the way into the kitchen. Mike looks up from the grill, but doesn't slow down. "He knows all about exits and entrances."
"Get your fucking hands off me," Zack snarls, but Jensen was right about Chris: he's having a damn good time manhandling the jerk through the kitchen and out the back door with a final push that has him stumbling against the dumpster.
"Look, dickhead," Jensen says, once they're all outside. "The two of us? We're your best friends here. If you want to take your chances with the rest of them, feel free to loop right around and come back in the front door."
"Yeah, go on," Chris says. "That'd be a real good time."
Zack mutters and mumbles, but turns and stomps off.
"Damn," Chris drawls. "I wasn't kidding. That really would have been a good time. "
"Lunatic," Jensen mutters, but there's a spike of adrenaline still in his own blood and Chris's smirk says he knows it.
They catch a few looks from the tourists when they come back into the main room, but nothing major. Jensen doesn't see Sandy, but Jeff has Jared still at the other end of the bar. Chris grabs the water and the Wild Turkey and heads toward the stage; Jensen ducks back under the bar and starts pulling beers, since things are really backing up.
"Lover boy all taken care of?" Jeff asks.
"Yeah," Jensen smirks. "And he broke Kane's heart by not putting up a fuss, so there was no bloodshed."
"Too bad," Jared growls, but Sandy comes up right then with another set of orders and he turns his attention to her. "Sandy, are you sure--"
"Yes," she snaps, glaring at him, and then Jeff, and then Jensen. "I'm sure. I'm fine. I do not want to take a break. I don't want to go home. I'm going to do my job and make my rent, and if you say one word about how you've got that covered, Jared, I will never speak to you again."
Jared nods, but he's got a stubborn glint in his eyes that Sandy's not likely to miss--or appreciate--so Jensen smacks the bar to get her attention and drawls, "If you're here to work, how about dropping the orders and letting the rest of us do our jobs…"
Jeff chokes back a laugh, which earns him a long, thoughtful look from Sandy and a glare from Jared, but she snaps out a list of drinks in a steady, clear voice. Jensen gets to dealing with them, and the night rolls on.
Jensen does his usual set with Steve and Chris, and comes back for one more round, late, when nobody cares how rough they sound, and then helps Jeff start closing down for the night. He's a little surprised--they're still pulling in a lot of orders, Jeff could stay open longer, but then he catches Jeff watching Jared watching Sandy.
"He's not leaving until she does," Jeff mutters. "Idiot."
Sandy hangs in there until it's just them, until Jeff's locked the door before she sits down at the table in the corner and covers her face with both hands.
Jared crosses the room in a couple long strides and scoops her up and she finally breaks down. Jared settles down in the chair with her curled on his lap and Jensen can hear him crooning to her.
"Shit, should we go find Dani?" Jensen murmurs to Steve.
"I think Jared's got it covered," Steve answers. "But..."
"She'd gut us if we went and woke up Danneel tonight," Jeff adds. "She's set for the early group tomorrow morning."
"You guys are total pussies, you know that, right?" Chris rolls his eyes at them. "Just clean the place up so when she comes up for air, she won't have any reason not to get the hell out of here."
Jensen's tempted to ask if it's the blue moon or just sunspots, but for whatever reason, he's agreeing with Chris. Again.
"Fine," Jeff mutters. "Get on it, then."
None of them are particularly up for scrubbing the place down, but if they don't, Jensen knows Sandy will come in early the next morning to take care of it before she goes out to watch Danneel. He’s still not really happy about the job, but hell, if Chris can do it, so can he.
He’s bone-tired by the time they finish up, though. Jared’s spread out across three chairs, Sandy still curled on his lap. Somewhere in the firestorm of tears, her hair came down from her usual ponytail and it’s hiding her face. Jensen can see the occasional hitch in her breathing but the real sobs are gone and what Jensen can see of her looks relaxed, maybe asleep.
"She okay?" Jeff keeps his voice low and quiet, and Jared nods, his hand never stopping the slow, soothing strokes up and down her back.
"Think so," Jared murmurs. "This one really did a number on her, though. Married, two kids, and--"
"Bored," Sandy says into Jared's shirt. "Coming down from up-country to find a little surf-betty to play with." She shakes her head as she looks up at Jeff. "Hi, I'm Sandy, and sometimes I check my brain at the door." Jared tsks at her, but she rubs her eyes and slides off his lap. "I'm fine, Jay. At least I'm not the one married to the cheating son of a bitch."
Her voice is steady, but when Jeff gives her a hug, she clings to him, longer and tighter than she usually would and she sniffles a little when she pulls away. "Okay, stop being sweet to me, before I start crying again."
"You earned it, Sandy-girl," Jeff says. "That was a nice right cross you laid on him."
She holds her hand out so he can see the bruised and swollen knuckles. "You never told me it would hurt me."
Jeff laughs. "Put some ice on it and wear it like a trophy, girl."
Sandy smiles at him and turns back to Jared. "I'm going to go to the bathroom and not look in the mirror while I wash my hands, because I do not want to see what my face looks like after all that crying, and then I'd really appreciate it if you'd take me home so I can go to bed and this day can finally be over."
"You got it, sweetheart," Jared says, sitting up to press a kiss to her forehead as she slides past him. "Fuck," he adds, once she's gone.
"She leads with her heart," Jeff says, reaching for the bottle of rum.
"I know, it's just..."
"Yep." Jeff pours with a deliberate hand, three fingers for the rest of them and a shot glass for Jared. "Some of us don't have to be on our best game tomorrow," Jeff says, when Jared opens his mouth to complain.
"Fine," Jared mutters, and Jensen deliberately doesn't look at anyone, so he won't lose the battle to keep a straight face. Seriously, he thinks. Who does Jeff even think he's kidding?
Sandy comes out, twisting her hair back through itself in a messy knot, rolling her eyes when Jared grabs her backpack from her. She lets him take it, but looks straight at Jeff and says, "Okay, you know what? I'm way too tired to be subtle or tactful--" she shoots Steve a pointed glare when he can't quite choke back the snicker, but then goes right back to staring Jeff down. "Are you going to go watch everyone tomorrow? Because if you are, stop pretending like you're not, and just come out with Jensen and me in the morning."
Jeff turns a little red under his tan, and he pays way more attention to pouring the next round than he needs to. "I'll be around," he says, finally. "Probably best if I drive out myself, though."
Sandy snorts, but lets it go, and doesn't resist when Jared starts steering her toward the door. "I'll come get you," she says to Jensen. "We can see how many people feel the need to find me and tell me they knew he was married all along."
"And here I didn't think there was an ounce of snark in there." Jensen laughs. "Wouldn't miss it. We can run an over/under on it."
"Out," Jeff growls, mostly at Jared and Sandy, but the rest of them get moving, too. Jensen sprawls out in the back seat, willing himself to keep awake for all of the three-minute ride to Steve's.
"Shit," Chris says, as they haul all the amps and shit into the house and dump them by the front door. "Long fucking day."
"What the cowboy said," Jensen says, leaning against the wall and debating if it'd really be worth it to make it to his bedroom. At the moment, the couch is looking damn good. "When you kept telling me I should visit, I wasn't thinking I'd be scrubbing down a bar every goddamned night."
"Yeah," Steve says, smiling. "I didn't really expect that either." He leans against the wall next to Jensen and shakes his head. "Hell--I didn't expect any of this, starting with you ever coming, much less.... "
Even in the dim light from the single, low-watt bulb they leave on in the kitchen, Jensen can see how serious his eyes are. "Much less, what?" Jensen asks.
"You being here," Steve says, finally. "Settled in."
"I'm not--"
"Yeah, you are," Steve says, right before he fits his hand on Jensen's jaw and draws him into a kiss that's long and slow and so damn right Jensen can't help kissing him back, even with Chris right there.
"Steve--" The words are sticking hard in Jensen's throat, but it doesn't matter, because Chris interrupts him before he can even start.
"Your call, Jensen." It's one of the only times Chris has ever called him that--not Hollywood or Jenny or prettyboy, but Jensen; it's one more thing that's tilting the real world out from under him.
Steve's eyes are still serious, pupils big and dark in the lighter iris, and his hand's still cupping Jensen's head. It's all Jensen can do not to turn his face into the familiar touch, feel the way the calluses from years with a guitar will catch on his skin. Somewhere in there, Chris has stepped up close, not touching, not crowding, but close enough that Jensen can feel the heat from his body.
"What is this?" Jensen makes himself stay still, wills his brain to focus. "Tag team?"
"You mean, did we write out who says what, when?" Chris asks. "Because that's a little too structured for Carlson. But, yeah, we've talked about it. Been thinking about it for a long time."
"No pressure," Steve says, and Jensen wonders just how freaked out he looks. Because he sure as hell never saw this coming and there's a part of him--a really big part--that's screaming at him to move, to take it, take Steve, but the rest of him doesn't trust that part, at least not right now, in the middle of the night.
"I--don't know." Jensen closes his eyes, so he doesn't have to see himself do it. He manages to take a step back, and then another, but when he opens his eyes, Steve's still right there--Chris, too--and all Jensen knows is that he somehow said the literal truth. He doesn't know anything. He shakes his head, as if that's going to help, and says, "What do you want from me?"
"Whatever you want to give." Steve doesn't smile, at least, not until Jensen rolls his eyes, because really, did he expect Steve to say anything but that?
"Open offer," Chris adds, and there it is again, Chris with no smirk, no smart-ass crack, looking at Jensen not quite the way he looks at Steve, but close enough that Jensen can't not take him seriously.
"What do you get out of this, Kane?" Jensen's mouth is moving before he thinks about it; that's no surprise.
"You're kidding, right?" Chris runs his eyes over Jensen, and his smile is as sharp and hungry as his look.
"No, I'm really not," Jensen says. "I mean, what? You didn't get to go at it earlier, so this is a good substitute for raising a little hell?"
"If that makes it easier for you," Chris says. He's back to the smirk, but there's nothing mocking in his eyes, and that's where Jensen focuses when he takes that first step toward them. Chris's grin slides into something easy and appreciative and when Jensen flicks a glance at Steve, he sees the same expression mirrored in Steve's eyes.
He can do this, Jensen tells himself, leaning in to find Chris's mouth with his own. He's far enough away from where he was when he got here, who he was, to deal with the difference between what he thought he was getting then, and whatever it is he's being offered now.
Chris meets Jensen halfway, focused and intent, kissing Jensen like there's no one else in the room even while Steve's hands slide up under Jensen's shirt, long, slow strokes along his spine that settle him at the same time they hint at so much more. He edges Jensen's shirt up with his hands, pressing close, the worn cotton of his own shirt soft against Jensen's skin.
"Christian," Steve murmurs. "Stop for a sec, let me…" Chris shifts his attention from Jensen's mouth to working his way along and under Jensen's jaw, backing off just enough that Steve can drag Jensen's t-shirt up and over his head. Jensen hisses as Chris's teeth close over his collarbone, not quite enough to break the skin, but fucking perfect, like Chris knows how that jolt of pleasurepain goes straight to Jensen's dick.
Jensen gets his fingers twisted into Chris's hair, pulling hard until Chris looks up, grinning. "Bed," Jensen says, licking back into Chris's mouth, and then groaning as Steve presses close and bites a line of kisses across the top of Jensen's back. For every bit of progress they make toward the bedroom, another piece of clothing hits the floor: Steve's shirt in the hall, and Chris's jeans at the bedroom door, and Jensen's twisting around to get at Steve's cargoes, his fingers not quite working right because of Chris's hands moving low in on his belly, quick, impatient jerks at the waistband undoing the snap and sliding underneath.
"God, yeah," Steve whispers, watching as Chris wraps his hand around Jensen's dick and starts jerking him, slow and nasty.
"Don't stop," Chris growls, his mouth right against Jensen's ear. "Let me see you get him naked." Jensen doesn't stop, but Steve finally has to help, because there's no way Jensen can deal with a button fly while Chris's mouth is running nonstop, fuck, yeah, want to see the two of you, so fucking gorgeous, much less while Chris is working him with both hands.
"Fuck," Jensen chokes out, dragging air into his lungs like he's been held down by an endless cycle of waves. "Does he ever shut up?"
Steve grins, and, fuck, slides his hands down to join Chris's, and Jensen honestly doesn't care that his knees are about to go. "Sometimes," Steve says, leaning in to bite at the same spot on Jensen's collarbone. "Occasionally."
"If you make it worth my while," Chris says, trying for smug--and mostly getting there--but just hoarse enough that Jensen isn't buying it. He wants to answer, has a snappy comeback all planned, but then Steve's mouthing over where he--where he and Chris both, Christ--have marked Jensen, and it's all Jensen can do to not give up right there and start begging for it. Chris is still jacking him, one rough stroke after another, slow and deliberate, like Chris is telling him that it's just the start, and when Jensen makes himself open his eyes, Steve is back to watching, his eyes dark and possessive in a way Jensen doesn't ever remember seeing before.
"God, that's--I could watch that all night," Steve says.
"Fuck, yeah," Chris agrees, adding a wicked twist at the top of every stroke, and Jensen chokes back the whine that's caught in his throat. He can't help shuddering, though, and Chris laughs, soft breath of air against Jensen's neck. "I think it's unanimous; get us to a bed, man."
"Yeah," Steve breathes. "Yeah."
Chris hisses once, scraping his back on the doorframe as they go through at an awkward angle, but they're close enough then that their combined momentum carries them along until they can fall onto the bed. The windows are cracked open, and the never-ending Maui wind plays cool and fresh on Jensen's skin where Steve and Chris aren't, a constantly shifting pattern of sensation. It's darker in the bedroom, especially at first, until his eyes adjust to the light, but Jensen never doubts who it is kissing him, or who he's touching and tasting in return.
Steve remembers everything, knows exactly where and how hard to touch to make Jensen twist, exactly where a kiss will make him shake, but Chris figures things out in a flash, things Jensen's doesn't think anyone else even knows.
Chris never stops running his mouth, Yeah, like that, show me how much you want it, let him see you work for it, no, don't stop those noises, so fucking hot between us. Steve presses close, whispering Jensen's name over and over, voice easing low and sweet under Chris's, thighs and bellies and dicks slick with sweat and pre-come, touching, sliding against each other, until Jensen doesn't know anything else, can't know anything else.
He knows it's Chris who fingers him open, slick, cool pressure sliding into him, warming little by little as Chris fucks in and out, two fingers, then three, enough that Jensen groans at the stretch and burn, knows it's Steve who's holding him steady, fingers biting into Jensen's hips hard enough to leave marks.
Chris pushes into him slow and deep, fucks him like there's nothing else in the world; Steve breathes with him, licks into his mouth and steals it for his own, tells him he's gorgeous, teases him with slick fingers on his dick, his balls. Jensen gets a hand up, tangles it in Steve's hair and lets himself go where they're taking him, too far out of his head to care that the high, needy whine he hears is coming from his own throat.
"So good," Steve murmurs against Jensen's skin. "So good, so fucking beautiful like this."
Chris settles into a rhythm, still not as fast as Jensen wants, needs, but steady and hard, rocking Jensen into Steve with every thrust, dicks sliding together, slick and hot, enough friction to make Jensen crazy, not ever enough to let him come. Steve lets it spin out until Jensen can barely remember how to breathe before he wraps his hand around both their cocks, stripping them rough and fast, sweet aching pressure building low in Jensen's gut.
"Do it," Chris growls, and Steve drags his nails up and over the head of Jensen's dick, a bright, sparking path that hurts like hell and sends Jensen's every nerve screaming into overdrive, again and again, no breaks in between for Jensen to think or breathe or even be, everything about him shattering out in a million tiny pieces that he knows he's never going to put together again in the same way.
It's light when Jensen's phone rings--and rings, and rings, because he can't find it on the bedside table, because there isn't a bedside table, at least not where he's used to there being one… Because he's not in his room, he's in Steve's room, in Steve's bed, still tangled up with Steve and Chris, which is more than enough to scramble the few brain cells he generally has functioning in the morning anyway.
"Somebody answer the fucking thing," Chris mumbles, all but crawling under the pillow he and Jensen have been fighting over all night. Steve just groans and flails around with the arm he doesn't have thrown over Jensen, until he manages to grab Jensen's cargoes from where they fell on the floor when he'd stripped them off Jensen the night before.
The phone stops ringing for a second, but then starts right back up again, like whoever's calling knows there's no fucking way Jensen's going to check messages at whatever-the-hell time it is. Jensen snatches the shorts out of Steve's hand, and manages to flip the damn phone open.
"Thank you," Chris snarls. "Christ."
Jensen grunts into the phone; Sandy's voice comes back at him, and if she's not exactly in top form, she's still about a thousand times too goddamn cheerful for the morning. "I'm on my way down from Jared's. Fifteen minutes, tops. If you're not waiting for me, I'm coming in to get you."
Jensen tries to say something about it having been a long night, but it comes out little more than a high-pitched whine and the phone goes dead anyway. He flops back down and considers not moving.
"Your call," Steve says, obviously way too awake if he's reading Jensen's mind. "But she's got our spare key."
"Hell," Jensen groans, crawling out from under the sheet and over Chris.
"Not dug in here, my ass," Chris says. Jensen pretends not to hear him.
The shower helps, some, and when he stumbles down the hall, Sandy's already sitting on the bar, with giant travel mug that proves to be full of Jeff's double-strength Kona. She hands it over wordlessly, and Jensen could kiss her, except for how it's all her fault he's standing here way too fucking early in the morning, his hair dripping into the collar of his t-shirt and an empty space waiting for him in bed, even if it is between Steve and Chris.
He'd ask why they have to be leaving so goddamned early, but as soon as they get back out on Hana Highway, he gets it: tons of traffic already and it'll only get worse as the day goes on. He'd like some recognition for not whining, but given the shitty night Sandy had, he doesn't think he should count on it.
Jensen catches Sandy watching him out of the corner of her eye, but it takes nearly the whole cup of coffee before his brain's working well enough to for him to say, "What? I put my shirt on inside out?"
Sandy smiles. "No," she says, shaking her head. "But a turtleneck probably wouldn't have been a bad idea." Jensen's about to tell her she's not making sense--why on God's green earth would he want to wear a turtleneck on Maui--when she reaches over and touches his collarbone, right where Steve and Chris had decided they had a fetish the night before.
"Damn it," Jensen says, blushing harder than he has for years. "Watch the road, woman." Sandy laughs, but she drops her hand and turns back to negotiating the traffic. "You should be careful not to hang out with Morgan so much," Jensen grumbles. "You already have that fucking evil smirk of his; it'd be a shame if you ended up with the rest of his ugly mug."
He could say more, but Sandy's going off-road to get around the line of cars backed out onto the highway as people--idiots, fucking tourists--can't fucking pay attention to the LOT FULL signs and insist on trying to pull into the parking lot at Ho'okipa.
"See?" Jensen yells. "You're driving like him, too!"
Sandy flips him off--which has Jensen yelling, "Hands! Hands!" and all but grabbing for the steering wheel--and somehow manages to cross back over the road and snag a reasonable place to leave the car on the other side of the park.
"Everybody wants to be down on the beach," she says, pulling a daypack out of the back seat and handing it to Jensen. "Come on, before they figure out they can't see shit down there and try to get up on the lookout."
"Yes, ma'am," Jensen mutters, but since it's his own damn fault for agreeing to this whole thing, and since she's right, and since if he's going to be here, he might as well be somewhere that he can actually see what's going on, he follows along obediently. Plus, he has a feeling that if they don't get cliffside, he's going to end up with Sandy on his shoulders so she can see, and yeah. No.
Sandy moves fast, but Jensen's right there with her, and they manage to get a pretty decent spot staked out, a little further away than they've been before, but still good enough. Sandy's got all kinds of stuff in the daypack: sun block, and more coffee, and water, and a ton of stuff to eat--none of it healthy or organic in any way, shape, or form.
"I feel like the useless appendage, here," Jensen says, looking at all the crap.
"Oh, no," Sandy says, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before the wind whips it into a frenzy. "You're vitally important--I'm gonna be here all day and somebody needs to save my spot when I have to go pee."
"I'm honored," Jensen says, dryly.
"I'm sorry," Sandy sighs. "That... didn't come out right. I just..."
"I'm fine," Jensen says, laughing a little. "Trust me, that's not even close to the worst thing someone's said about me, even without having had a craptastic night." Sandy shrugs a little, and Jensen tucks a bit of hair that she missed back behind her ear. "How's it going?"
"Is it stupid to wish I'd kept my mouth shut for another day, so I wouldn't have to sit here and pretend I'm fine?"
"Nah," Jensen says. "But you'd have been sitting here pretending anyway, so at least this way you're a step closer to being done with it all."
"He was supposed to be different," Sandy says, staring off at the ocean and sky. "He wasn't a flake who was going to go find himself on some feral surf trip. He had a job; he wasn't always asking me for money or not calling me because his phone got turned off."
"It works like that sometimes. I wish it didn't." Jensen shifts the backpack around and gets settled. "If you want to zone out, I'll make sure nobody steps on you."
Sandy nods and curls up, her head on the backpack. When she takes her sunglasses off to get more comfortable, Jensen can see her eyes are still puffy and red.
"Thanks for coming up here with me," she says.
"Thanks for asking me," Jensen answers, watching the ocean and finally admitting that not thinking about the night before is probably not going to happen, and that he should probably start by admitting that he's less freaked about what had actually happened than he is about the way it happened. Somehow, he thought the night was going to be about him and Chris sharing Steve, rather than the way things went down.
Even then, he'd thought getting fucked by Chris was going to be easier--no ghosts, no memories, no used-to-be--but he guessed he'd missed the part about how that meant Steve was going to be seeing everything, even the stuff Jensen's been hiding from himself.
"Third is good, right?" Jensen is grateful he's never had claustrophobic tendencies, because having to fight their way to the competitor's area down on the beach is like swimming upstream against the lemmings. "If we ever fucking get there, I don't want to open my mouth and say the wrong thing to Dani."
"No, third is great," Sandy says. "I mean, Jared would be moping for a week, so it's good he won, but Dani was working on cracking the top ten, so third is so awesome, I can't even tell you."
"So if I grab her and spin her around until she throws up...?"
"That'd be perfect," Sandy says, with an almost-normal smile.
"Please tell me this is it," Jensen says, looking out at the crowd that's already packed into Jeff's place, all of Jared's crew and Danneel's, and half the Kaanapali coast, it looks like, and he doesn't begrudge them the party, but it's not even five and Steve's already working on a second round of kegs for the on-tap beers. "They all go home tomorrow?"
"Most of them," Jeff says, throwing a bag of trash into the back hallway. "The ones who are hanging around for the good shit up at Pe'ahi will still be around, but that's a whole different vibe."
"Thank fucking god," Jensen mutters. "Let's hope we make it through the night." Sandy's got one friend, Joanna, working, and the two of them are calling everyone they know, trying to get extra help, but Jensen isn't counting on it.
Jared's fighting his way through the crowd, his face flushed and his hair even more out of control than usual, getting stopped every step by someone who wants to shake hands or hug or tell him what he should be doing next. Jensen fills three orders before Jared makes it the last two feet.
"Holy shit," Jared says, laughing and just climbing over the bar. Jensen makes flapping motions to get him away from where all the glasses are and keeps filling orders. "This is nuts."
"Crazier than all the other times you've won?"
"Never won at home before," Jared says, grinning even bigger. Jensen hands him a beer and high-fives him. "Hey, Jeff--tell Sandy and Joanna I got this tonight. Run a tab and let me know."
"Ooooo," Jensen says. "Big man."
"Name me a better reason to party," Jared says, and Jensen can't help but laugh, because the kid is practically glowing.
"Hell, no," Jeff says, and Jensen's impressed at how fast the friendly, slightly crazed atmosphere behind the bar goes freezing.
"Come on, man." Jared keeps his voice even, but his hand tightens so hard around the beer he's holding that Jensen can see his knuckles go white. "It's a private party, no big deal."
"Ten seconds after Sandy opens her mouth to tell someone it's on the house and every deadbeat on the island'll be in here."
"I doubt they'll make it in the door," Jared says, gesturing out at the packed room. "And even if they did, it's no big deal."
"Your suits okay with this, Jay?" Jeff turns around and makes a show of looking. "Because I can't say as they're doing you any favors if they are."
"I'm not seeing where that's any of your business," Jared bites out.
"No," Jeff says, in an even more bull-headed tone. "I don't guess it is." He turns away and calls to Sandy, telling her to fill Joanna in. "What?" he asks, when Jared's still there after.
"I got this," Jared says, quietly. "I know you've seen guys blow it all, but I'm good, I swear."
"Like you said, none of my business."
"Make up your fucking mind," Jared says, low and furious. Jensen takes a step back--all he can do in the cramped space behind the bar, but he doesn't think either Jared or Jeff is noticing anything but the other. "I ask you, and it's the biggest fucking imposition ever. I don't ask you, and you can't wait to tell me what a stupid fucking kid I am."
"Jared--"
"You know, just forget it." Jared rubs one big hand over his face. "I'm happy to throw some business your way, and I'll be gone next week. Sorry to bother you; it won't happen again."
Jeff grabs for Jared as he goes to duck under the short side of the bar and for a second, Jensen thinks Jared's going to turn around and start swinging. He catches Sandy's eyes across the bar; she looks about as exasperated as he's ever seen her, so at least it's not just him who wants to knock some heads together.
"Jay," Jeff says, and something--maybe something in his voice--stops Jared's hand. "Do we have to do this here?"
"Do what?" Jared asks. "This--It's the same thing we always do. Nothing changes."
"I didn't--" Jeff stops, and swallows hard. "Why would you want it to change?"
Jared laughs, short and sharp, nothing at all like his real laugh, the one that can take down an entire room even if nobody has a clue what's so funny. "You really aren't kidding, are you?" He shakes his head once, like he's trying to talk himself out of something, but then shrugs. "Because I've been in love with you since before I knew what that even meant."
"I know that," Jeff says, his voice as rough as Jensen's ever heard it. "Doesn't mean you should settle--"
"Oh, fuck that," Jared snaps, but he's not totally out of control. Jensen doesn't think anyone on the other side of the bar can hear him. "You don't want me, fine, but don't give me that crap."
"It's not crap--"
"Right," Jared says. "Tell me again how this isn't the same shit we always do?"
"I would," Jeff growls. "But you can't keep that mouth shut long enough for me to get a sentence out." Jared stays quiet; Jensen would kill to see the expression on his face, but he keeps his back turned and pretends he can't hear a thing.
"It's not nothing," Jeff says, finally. "You don't need to be tied down to a dive like this--not to mention all the exes who'll cross the street to deck me when they see me--not when you've got everything breaking your way."
"No," Jared says. "I don't need to be--" Jeff starts to interrupt, and Jared talks right over him. "I want to be. And you can tell me I shouldn't want it, but that's just BS. If you don't want me, tell me, and I'll get over it, but shut up about what I do or don't need, because I am sick of that dodge."
Sandy covers her mouth, but her eyes are dancing as she loads up her tray. Jensen's way behind on orders, but the entertainment value is outstanding, so she's not fussing at him.
"Fucking hell, Jared," Jeff sighs. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
"You already know the truth."
"No," Jared says, so quietly Jensen almost misses it. "I know what I want it to be, but I really don't know."
"Yeah," Jeff says. "You do."
"You really," Jared laughs again, still not his regular laugh, and just as raw as before but there's something so hopeful in it that Jensen can't breathe for a second. "You really aren't going to say it, are you?"
"Not standing in the middle of a crowd of drunk tourists, I'm not," Jeff says.
"If I come back later, are you gonna bail on me?"
"No," Jeff says, and Jensen catches sight of Jared's smile as he ducks under the bar and heads back to his table. To be honest, they're probably catching sight of Jared's smile three islands over, but Jensen and Sandy are the only ones who know what it's really about.
Jeff comes back up to the bar; Jensen gets one look at his face and reaches for the rum. "Easy there, big guy."
"Fuck," Jeff mutters, downing the double-shot Jensen pours in one gulp. "'M okay, I just... fuck."
"Here." Jensen hands over fistfuls of beer mugs. "Pull some drafts and breathe for a while. Sandy'll take my head off if I come up empty the next time she's back here."
"Wouldn't be behind if you hadn't spent the last ten minutes eavesdropping."
"Some things are just worth risking Employee of the Week for. It's too damn bad I didn't have a recorder going," Jensen says, setting up a line of shooters and nodding out to where Danneel's having way too much fun deciding which of the Pro-Fun boys she's taking home later. "Dani's gonna be all annoyed that she missed your little scene."
"You could do a dramatic re-enactment," Sandy says, coming up just in time to hear the end.
"Oh, excellent idea," Jensen purrs. "I can do the voices and everything."
"Sweet Jesus, shut up," Jeff says, trying for a growl and missing by a mile.
The shower at the house isn't big enough for two, but Jensen's not going to say no when Chris crowds in on top of him. Or when Steve joins them a couple of minutes later. They're not going to kill themselves making out in there and nothing much else is likely to be happening, not with how worn down they all are.
"Some fucking paradise," Chris mumbles as they stagger out of the bathroom, Steve's arm slung around Jensen's neck as though the last year hasn't happened at all. "Christ, I feel like I went ten rounds with Tyson."
"Not paradise." Steve doesn't let go when Jensen starts off down the hall to the lanai. "Reality."
Jensen stops, and he really wants to ask what exactly is going on, but Chris pushes up against him and Steve, shoving them both toward the bedroom.
"If you say so." Chris yawns and pushes harder, until Jensen gives up and just goes with it.
"Yeah," Steve says softly, when they're settled in the bed, Chris still stealing the fucking pillow. "I do."
Steve doesn't do anything but slap the alarm off the next morning, so when Jensen finally wakes up on his own there are still three of them in bed, same as there had been in the shower, except it's day now and there's no place to hide with the sun streaming in through the half-closed blinds.
Jensen slides off the edge of the bed and finds some clothes. He could use some coffee, but Chris has his own system and Jensen doesn't want to mess with it. He ends up sitting on the steps in front of the house. It's quiet; the neighbors have all left for work and there's just the faintest hum from cars going by out on the highway. The house behind him is small and ordinary; the concrete he's sitting on is crumbling along the edges.
There's nothing that says he's anyplace special, so he's not sure why he thought the regular rules didn't apply. Fucking around with Steve and Chris is one thing, but that wasn't what had happened the night before.
"Bro, stop thinking so hard," Steve says, from behind him. "I can hear the gears grinding from inside."
Steve's leaning against the doorway, tan and blond, wearing nothing but jeans and a thin leather cord around his wrist and Jensen's right back to walking into the house that first day. The only difference is that he'd been a hell of a lot more practiced at keeping shit off his face then.
Steve turns his head and calls back, "Don't drink the whole damn thing yourself," as he rolls off the side of the doorframe and takes the two steps to get to Jensen. "Shift over," he says, dropping down to sit on the steps. His shoulder brushes Jensen's, warm, dry skin roughened in places by the scratches and cuts he's picked up in the mornings.
"How's this gonna work?" Jensen doesn't look at him, as though not-looking now is going to erase everything he knows Steve saw ten seconds ago. "Real world. Not whatever fantasy we've been floating along in."
"I don't know," Steve says. "I just know I want it to."
"Wait," Jensen says, looking up, surprised enough to forget about keeping any kind of distance. "That's not your line. See, I say something like that, and you say it's all good, however things work out."
Chris laughs from just inside the door, juggling three mugs.
"Yeah, well." Steve shrugs. "That's all I've got, today."
Jensen takes the mug Chris holds out to him and lets what Steve said settle a bit. "So, what...? We just close our eyes and make a wish?"
"Hold hands and sing Kumbaya?" Chris offers.
"Thanks, Kane," Jensen snaps. "That was helpful."
"Hey, Carlson basically says I got nothin' and it's okay. I offer entertainment value for your freak-out and I get snark. I think I'm detecting a theme here."
Jensen rolls his eyes, but it doesn't escape him that Chris isn't blowing off the idea.
"You're here for the duration," Jensen finally says, to Steve. "You come and go." Chris nods. "That leaves me and fuck if I know what I do."
"Yeah, see, that'd be where you're dancing around shit you already know," Chris says. "Again."
"Maybe," Jensen sighs.
Chris snorts and taps Jensen on the top of the head. "'M goin' back to bed. Maybe you two could actually talk, y'know, instead of just sayin' words at each other."
He doesn't slam the door behind him, but it's close.
"Hell," Steve says, and Jensen agrees. Granted, he's only known the guy for a couple of months, but he's got a feeling it doesn't get much more ironic than Christian Kane telling you to talk.
"It doesn't matter," Steve says, unexpectedly. "What you said earlier--you don't know where you are, what you're doing." He leans back on both arms and tilts his face up to look at Jensen. "It doesn't matter. Not to me, and not to Chris."
"It matters to me," Jensen answers, and Steve nods.
"I know," Steve says, simple statement of fact. "I don't know that I got that, when I left, but... It--I had a lot of time to think about it, before you came."
"I'm not trying to jerk you around." Jensen looks at the smudgy green of Haleakala in the distance. "I just don't know." Steve doesn't say anything, but he doesn't leave either and when he finishes his coffee, Jensen takes the empty mug and pushes it out of the way so he can lean in and kiss him in the breezy quiet.
Jensen could go crash for a while once Steve leaves, thinks about it for a couple of minutes, but even as tired as he is, he's got a feeling he's not going to sleep. Plus, picking a bed seems like making a statement, one he's not ready for. In the end, he figures he can eat something and if he falls asleep on the couch, well, that'll mean he really was tired enough to ignore the stuff running around in his head.
Chris comes in while Jensen's trying to decide between heating up whatever's in the shelf full of takeout boxes or going all out and scrambling eggs.
"That's stuff Sandy's trying out," Chris says. "Good, but..."
"High chance of stealth tofu," Jensen finishes, putting it back in the fridge. "Eggs?"
"Only if I'm making them."
Jensen could be offended, but then again, he could just hand over the frying pan and get fed.
He ends up on the couch, his feet up and the last of the coffee cradled in his lap, watching Chris do his thing with the usual bitching and moaning. It's the standard refrain of the kitchen being a fucking museum piece--which it is--and the stove having only two settings, char and off--again, true--but since it comes with eggs scrambled with onions and peppers and tomatoes and dumped out onto the plates at the exact right second of doneness, as opposed to his own version of you're-lucky-if-they're-not-crispy-shut-up-and-eat, Jensen's okay with letting it all wash over him, especially since it tends to end once there's actual food to be eaten.
"You're here, Steve's down at Jeff's…" Chris says, dropping his plate into the sink with a clatter. " I'm guessing nothing got decided."
"We talked." Jensen shrugs. "More than you and I've talked, anyway."
"You and me, we're not the issue." Chris turns away and starts fiddling with the remains of the peppers and onions.
"Yeah? Why's that?" Jensen drags himself up off the couch and crosses the ten feet over to the edge of the bar. Chris shoots him a look that says he doesn't exactly appreciate being blocked in the tiny kitchen, but since that was the point, Jensen ignores it. "Seriously. I'm not allowed to want you, too?"
"Makes things a hell of a lot less complicated if you don't."
"Dude," Jensen laughs. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I think we're a little too late for that."
"Look," Chris says. "The two of us just have to tolerate each other. You and Steve? You two still haven't gotten through the part where he walked and you stopped talking to him, let alone the part with me or the stuff with Jeff."
"We're working on it," Jensen says. "Doesn't mean you get a free pass on the figuring things out part."
"Your mama never taught you to share?"
"Just that easy?" Jensen asks.
"Hell, no," Chris says. "But… You got a better idea, now's the time to put your cards on the table." He looks at Jensen, and for the first time, Jensen sees a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
Jensen sighs. "I'm just going on the record right now as to how this wasn't my idea in the first place."
"Yeah, well, somebody's gotta think of the big picture."
"And that's what, exactly?"
"That this wasn't some spur of the moment thing he just threw out there," Chris says. "First time you sang with us--you remember?"
"Yeah," Jensen says, quietly. "I remember."
"Everything kinda went sideways after that. Maybe we all would've ended up fucking around no matter what, but that's not how he went into it." Chris gets quiet for a couple of seconds, before he finishes with, "Me either."
"Then it's probably good it took this long to happen," Jensen says. "We're in a better headspace now."
"Or, y'know, we're plain crazy from start to finish."
"You're just now figuring that out?" Jensen says, and Chris smiles for real.
Jensen does, in fact, crash out on the couch for most of the afternoon. He swims up toward consciousness a couple of times, thinking vaguely about moving, but never quite waking enough to follow through. He knows Chris is in and out, and at one point he hears Steve's voice, but mostly he's just out cold, no dreams, nothing nagging at his subconscious. It's dark when he wakes for real. His back isn't too happy with him, and his eyes are dry from sleeping in his contacts, but it's nothing that a shower and his glasses can't fix.
Jared's back at the corner table when Jensen finally manages to wander down to the cafe, Jeff's coffee and a pack of cigarettes on the table next to his own beer, nothing changed on the surface. Jeff's shooting the breeze with a couple of guys Jensen recognizes from around town, so Jensen grabs a bottle of water out of the ice and drops down next to Jared.
"He bail?" Jensen can't actually see Jared still being on the island if that had happened, but he figures it'd be rude not to ask.
"Nah," Jared drawls, cat-eating-the-canary smug dissolving into another smile they can probably see on the mainland. "He really really didn't."
"Excellent."
"Yeah, except for the part where I'm out of here for Australia next Monday, at the latest." Jared picks at the label on his beer. "It figures we'd get things sorted out right in the middle of the season."
"You're not planning on skipping out on the tour or anything, right?" Jensen eyes Jared. "'Cause if you are, let the rest of us know so we can be out of the blast radius when Jeff finds out."
"Fuck," Jared sighs. "I should record this, I've said it so many times. I'm not going to fuck things up. It's only a couple of months and I'm not pulling out of anything." He looks up at Jensen. "Trust me, I grew up around here, watched all the guys who've screwed themselves over come in and out, talking about how they could have been big. And all the guys who are big, talking about how they've fucked over everyone around them."
"Tightrope, huh?"
"Yeah." Jared quits playing with his beer and tilts it back to finish it off. "I just wish I didn't have to skip town quite so fast, that's all. It's not the end of the world or anything."
Jensen catches Jeff's attention, cocks an eyebrow to see if he needs any help behind the bar, but he'd been right the night before. It's not just locals now--there are still a fair number of unfamiliar faces--but the vibe is completely different.
Steve's voice is rough, and Chris's isn't much better, but that kind of fits the scene, too. Jensen still has a thing for Steve's voice; after everything, maybe it's time to admit that's not going away. Sandy flits by occasionally, and Jeff wanders over more often than he usually does, and doesn't seem to notice how he always ends up with a hand on Jared.
"Radar says there's a mother of a storm brewing up," Jeff says. "One, two days out."
"Jaws?" Jared smiles. "Hell, yeah."
"Maniac," Jeff mutters.
"Like you wouldn't be out there if your knee could take it," Jared says. "But it'll shred Hook, too." Jared's smile gets even bigger as he reaches for his phone. "Awesome send-off." He gets up to go outside to call and leaves Jensen alone with Jeff.
"This is where I give you the 'looking good' pep talk, right?" Jensen smirks. "Or should I just start pouring the rum?"
Jeff growls something under his breath, but it's definitely for show.
"He's not real happy about leaving," Jensen continues. "Your timing really sucks, man."
"Seeing as how this wasn't ever supposed to happen, period, I'm guessing we'll deal," Jeff says, shaking his head like he's still not sure how he's ended up here. Jensen thinks about explaining Jared and stubborn in words of one syllable or less, but if Jeff hasn't figured that out, Jensen's not about to kill off a rich and valuable source of entertainment. "I'm not real happy about it either," Jeff mutters.
"Go with him," Jensen suggests. "You'll make a fetching boy-toy."
Jeff shoots him a dirty look, but all he says is, "Too much shit here to take care of."
"Steve--"
"--knows a lot, a hell of a lot, but he hasn't been around for that long." Jeff shrugs. "I've always been a one-man show; it's not Steve's gig."
"It doesn't have to be a one-man show," Jensen hears himself saying. He waits for that familiar voice in his head to start screaming at him to shut the fuck up, but there's nothing but quiet.
"What doesn't have to be a one-man show?" Steve asks, walking up behind Jensen and reaching over to steal his water. Jeff quirks an eyebrow at Jensen, but doesn't say anything.
"You," Jensen says. "Running the empire for a couple of weeks."
"Sandy's got too much on her plate--" Jeff starts.
"Which she would rearrange in a heartbeat," Sandy says, on her way past the table to the bar. "And you know it."
"I wasn't actually talking about Sandy," Jensen says. Steve goes still against him, like he knows what Jensen's going to say. "I can handle the bar and stuff--"
"Jen," Steve interrupts. "You don't have to do--"
"I know," Jensen interrupts right back.
"Listen up," Jeff says to Jensen. "It's not doing anyone any good if you end up in the same damn place you were when you walked away from everything."
Jensen looks at Jeff and shrugs. "I think it's a break."
Jeff nods, but opens his mouth to argue again, Jensen can tell, so he doesn't give him the chance. "Suck it up, Morgan. Go be a kept man for a couple of weeks and try not to fuck things up before you get back." He takes a deep breath before he continues, "I can go find Sandy's friends and see if they still need a massage therapist. Or go up to Haiku and talk to Alex, see if he can use an extra pair of hands with the construction stuff until I figure out things for real."
Once he's saying things out loud, ideas start bubbling up, crazy things that he has no idea where they're coming from, things like music and photography and he doesn't even know what else. From the little See, I told you so glint in Sandy's eye, she knows exactly what's going on.
"Hey, Jeff," Jared calls from the door, holding his phone away from his mouth. "It's looking like a 20-foot face by tomorrow morning. They're hitting it at sun-up; two hours there and I still can get some serious work done down here at Hook."
Jeff glances at Steve and Jensen before he answers, "Pour that goddamned beer out, if you're hitting Jaws tomorrow." Jared grins and hands the beer to Danneel as she walks in.
"Jaws?" Dani says, not really asking, and hands the beer to the next guy walking in behind her. "You're on."
Steve puts both hands on Jensen's shoulders; Jensen relaxes into the touch. "I can FedEx Josh my keys and a ticket," he says, more thinking out loud than anything. "He'll bitch about it, but he'll get my car from LA. Mac isn't going to say no to a car of her own."
When Jensen tilts his head back, Steve's smile is all about the eyes.
"What?" Jensen says.
"Nothing," Steve says, smiling a little more. "It just sounds like a plan."
"Yeah," Jensen says, smiling back. "It does."
***
Notes and Thanks
Lots and lots of people took a crack at this one, starting with
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
withdiamonds, who read it when it was barely there and then let me whine at her for months on end. maschalismos read and poked and made suggestions and was generally an all-around good egg who let me bounce ideas off her randomly. gracecourage took on the first draft and talked out all the things that didn't work for her, and then did it again, even with computer problems. aquamia dug in and helped focus me on character motivations. wendy read a later version and pointed out where I still needed paper over some of the cracks. And
without_me is really to blame for all of this. She got me started on all this, though I doubt she thought it was going to take this long to finish. She deserves some kind of medal for that, PLUS the big shiny gold star for reading for grammar and such, as well as characters and what little plot there is. The cover art comes from
feyuca and the collages were done by theantimodel -- please go tell them how wonderful they are, because they captured the mood I had in my head so perfectly.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 3