Jared/Jensen | PG | ~650 words
When they go out for the first time, on a date, Jensen keeps the label of one of his beer bottles. It’s not that Jensen’s sentimental. He just wants to remember certain things.
When they go out for the first time, on a date, Jensen keeps the label of one of his beer bottles.
He nods and continues to listen to Jared talk about global warming-- for fuck’s sake, as if everyone isn’t talking about that all the time already— eyes drifting down to his beer bottle as he peels at the corners of the label with care. It’s wet around the edges, and later, when Jared stands to turn and pay the bill, Jensen slips it into his back pocket.
It’s not that Jensen’s sentimental. He just wants to remember certain things.
Certain things, like: his graduation, his sister’s bicycle accident, finding out that he got the part for Supernatural. These things were important, and few and far between. Jensen’s life had always been uncluttered--- he knew what to keep and what to throw away, which things were useful and which were just a waste of space. He discarded things he didn’t need, and didn’t make an effort to keep in mind things that were irrelevant.
Except when he wakes up and sees Jared in the morning, sleep-warm and hair all over the place, he feels his stomach twist and thinks this, as he rests his chin on Jared’s chest. Remember this.
It seems important somehow, like a framed picture that can be placed on the same shelf as his diploma, his first script; he tucks the moment into his memory, like folding the corner of a page to look back on.
And when Jared kisses him, Jensen wants to memorize the exact curve of his mouth, wants to map out the places Jared’s hands go— from his face to his arms to his waist, the precise pattern. He wants to playback Jared’s voice when he says things like You should stay when Jensen is about to leave, or Just shut up when he finds Jensen’s hand in the movies and clasps them together with a determined look on his face, eyes trained on the screen, or when he laughs like Jensen’s the funniest person on earth when Jensen knows for a fact that his jokes fall flat most times—
They all seem vital.
And there used to be some kind of difference, a distinction, a little red flag that said ‘this is something to remember.’ But with Jared it’s like everything is a fucking quotable quote, every place a landmark, and in the end Jensen’s folded every page of the book.
When Jared finds the small old cellphone box in his room where he keeps all the stupid, useless stuff to remind him of the most trivial things (movie tickets, receipts, fucking post-it notes), Jensen’s stomach pretty much drops.
“What the fuck,” Jensen says, snatching the box away.
Jared stays seated on the bed, smiling up at him, and Jensen's simple wish is for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “What?” he finally snaps, when Jared doesn’t say anything.
Jared just shakes his head and tugs him by the wrist, hard, and after a minor struggle with Jensen trying to stay upright and Jared using both his hands, he somehow ends up on Jared's lap, clutching the box to his chest.
“You’re a thirteen-year old girl,” Jared says, and Jensen’s about to punch him in the face when Jared pulls him down and kisses him thoroughly, and really, that kind of takes the fight out of a man. Jensen holds the box tighter against his chest as his other hand comes up to Jared's hair.
When they break apart, breathless, Jared says, “Considering I’m probably gonna end up marrying you, I think you’re gonna need a bigger box.”
“What,” Jensen says, still a little dazed. Damn it. "Why?"
Jared’s grinning like an idiot when he replies, “So you can fit your gown in it.”
"Oh, ha-ha," Jensen mutters as he pushes off him. “Fuck you, fuck you so much.”
"Or your bouquet--" Jared goes on, laughing.
Still, even as he’s fending off Jared’s arms trying to pull him back down, he wants to keep this moment—- after all, it’s Jared’s very first informal semi-marriage proposal.
we'll check the belly of the sun
to know exactly where we're from
- i've been a fool for lesser things
- Yeah, no, I have no excuse for the ridiculous amount of schmoop in this one.