Year/Length: 2007/~4925 words
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Steve Carlson
Spoilers: If you've seen the preview for "All Hell Breaks Loose" you're fine, otherwise there's a spoiler here for part 1 of the finale.
Disclaimer: I merely play with the toys of others. I mean no harm and make no money.
Summary: As so often happens, when they touched down in Vancouver at last, it was raining. Fat raindrops bounced off the tarmac, drummed on the flimsy roof of the cab he'd hired. He frowned, annoyed at the poor visibility, wanting to see the route that Jen took every day to the studio.
Beta: the beautiful lorelei633
Christmas was long gone. Steve had thought that Jen would be back in L.A. for his birthday, but it didn't happen. Steve had been working on the album, and it hadn't left him much time to hunt Jen down. Even so, he'd resisted the approaches from folks interested in bedding him, images of Jen floating up unbidden in his mind even while he was considering their offers.
At first, Chris was inclined to laugh at him – snickering when he'd shake his head, say thanks but no thanks and head for his hotel room, alone again. It didn't take long, though, before Chris started to worry, and soon after that, he began to take Steve to task.
"It's just not healthy," was his refrain. "Look at all the gorgeous ass you're turning down, son. You'll kick yourself forever when you look back on this time and realize just what you missed. I'm astonished that your dick hasn't curled up and dropped off from lack of use."
"How do you know it hasn't?" Steve shot him a long, level look that was calculated to end the conversation.
It didn't work.
"Because I was sitting beside you the other night when you were watching Supernatural," was the annoying response. "You even got hard watching your precious Jenny stuff his face full of those caramels or whatever the hell they were. Me, I think that's a perversion, but each to his own."
Steve could only decline to answer with as much dignity as he could muster, because it was true. Sometimes it wasn't easy, hanging with Chris.
And so Steve, increasingly desperate to spend some time with Jensen, decided to visit him up in the frozen north rather than waiting for him to come home.
LAX was a nightmare. Steve breathed a sigh of relief when he was actually on the plane, his guitar nestled safely beside him in its very own seat. He checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, drumming his fingers anxiously on the armrest. Now he'd finally decided to take the plunge and head up to Vancouver, he was jittery with excitement. He could hear the makings of a new song in his head, although he knew that he'd have to wait 'til he saw Jen before he knew exactly how it was going to end.
The three hour plane ride was a nightmare of longing, of needing to get there and find Jen. To hear his voice, to see his sweet smile and know that it was all for him.
As so often happens, when they touched down in Vancouver at last, it was raining. Fat raindrops bounced off the tarmac, drummed on the flimsy roof of the cab he'd hired. He frowned, annoyed at the poor visibility, wanting to see the route that Jen took every day to the studio.
The ride over the Arthur Lang Bridge made the cab seem as if it were suspended in space. Heavy rain and fog rising from the Fraser reduced visibility to almost zero, while the spray from the heavy traffic along Marine Drive drenched the world and turned it grey and sad. Steve finally arrived at the studio tired and grouchy, through an almost Biblical deluge of rain. An assistant producer checked his name off on the list and led him through the maze of corridors to the set, putting his finger to his lips in warning as he pointed to the area where he'd find Jensen.
Even before he saw the actors, he felt the tension. There was smoke from the machines sending swirls of opacity out to fill the huge sound stage and the silence was complete, the tension amongst the crew a living thing that stung the senses and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His first sight of the man he'd come so far to see was when Jensen – as Dean – fell to his knees, sobbing, cradling the limp body of his brother.
Steve had watched Jensen's performances on TV – indeed, he would never willingly miss an appearance, however dire the show – but this was the first time he'd ever seen him work. The power of the performance and the depth of the emotion he was witnessing rendered Steve absolutely speechless. He watched, spellbound as he saw Jensen help Jared up out of the mud. The two of them stood talking a moment, Jared stooping so that his face was close to Jensen's, face earnest, his hand squeezing Jensen's shoulder. He was quiet as the two actors came off the set to greet him.
Jared was as full of enthusiasm as ever, talking a mile a minute; greeting Steve, calling on everyone in the studio to acclaim Jensen's performance and generally being his usual, exuberant self. Jensen followed behind, uncharacteristically subdued, his head bowed and his eyes a little swollen from the hours of sobbing. He went and stood a little way from the applauding crowd, obviously still in Dean's headspace.
Steve waited, watching Jensen closely, admiration in his eyes for all to see. At last, Jensen gave him a wan smile and pushed away from the wall he was leaning against to make his way over.
"Sorry, man. That was hard to do." Jensen punched Steve's shoulder gently, trying for a smile and missing. His heart shaped lips curled the right way, but there was no spark in his eyes, and Steve's heart ached as he watched the performance.
"You did it." Steve gave him his own version of a forced smile. "No one could have done it better. You're world class, Jen."
His words earned him a shy smile, one that actually reached Jensen's eyes this time. "Are you playing somewhere in town?" Jensen sounded enthusiastic for a moment, seemingly eager to hear Steve play.
"Nah. I just came to see you, Jen." Steve's words were soft, voice huskier than usual, the need right there between them, solid as a wall and just as hard to break through. As Steve watched, Jensen seemed to shut down, his face assuming the bland expression he saved for importunate fans and chat show hosts.
"Steve, I..." Jensen seemed as though he was about to brush Steve off. Steve took a deep breath and dove in quickly, unsure why this was happening, only that he needed to stop it before it was too late.
"I'll sing for you, Jen." Steve held his breath. All he would ever have to offer Jen was his music, and the day that wasn't enough would be the day that he'd lose everything he'd ever wanted. "I'll sing you the song I've been writing for you." His voice caught and he looked into Jensen's eyes, searching for something he'd traveled a thousand miles to see. "I just wanted to see you. It's been a long time since Christmas." He knew that he was begging. He could hear the need in his own voice, hated the sound of it, even though he knew that he couldn't stop.
Jensen smiled again, still pale and tense, but suddenly less closed off. "Yeah, man. I think I'd like that." Steve let out a sigh of relief. Then Jensen spoke again, voice soft and pained. "Jesus, I just want to go back to being me and get Dean Winchester out of my head. He's hurting so bad, Steve. I'm finding it hard to keep him out."
"What can I do, man?" Steve felt his heart sink as he thought about how much of Jensen went into the character of Dean Winchester. He'd been around actors before, after all, he hung out with Chris all the time. But Chris didn't ever put the same kind of emotional strain on himself that Jensen seemed to when he was Dean. It was almost as if he inhabited the character rather than played him.
He never heard what Jensen would have asked him to do, because Jared chose that moment to return to their side, his usual jovial self, larger than life and determined to make them all cheer the fuck up.
There was no further chance of private conversation, and shortly after Jensen was called back to do pick up shots. Steve was left to stand and watch with Jared, about whom he was beginning to feel rising pangs of jealousy.
"He's good, isn't he? He really is. And he's hot. He's gonna be a big star, you know?" Jared was talking, obviously under the impression that Steve needed to be entertained. Steve smiled politely, but all he wanted was to stand quietly and drink in Jensen, watch the way he moved, the way he changed when he was in front of the camera, and listen to the melody that was taking form inside his head.
It was after eleven when they finally let Jensen go. Jared was crowing, elated because it was an early wrap for them. The weekend was beckoning, and he was full of plans. "You wanna go down and hit the Stone Temple?" he asked Jensen, one hand on the other man's shoulder and the other massaging little circles into the back of his neck. "Dude, you're tense, and you've got Steve here desperate to see what the club scene is like in Vancouver."
"Yeah?" Jensen didn't look enthralled, and as his eyes met Steve's, there was a visible plea in the depths of them. "Not tonight, man, please. I'm completely useless until I can get some sleep and maybe send Dean somewhere to recover. Wanna do it tomorrow? There's the Arctic Monkeys playing the Commodore."
Steve felt himself relax a little as Jared nodded and didn't argue. "Take it easy, Jen. You put a lot of yourself into that scene today. Give me a call if you need to be reminded that I'm still alive, you know?"
Jensen didn't reply, merely nodded and gave Jared a wan smile. Jared raised one large paw in farewell and then turned to head out to his car. "See you tomorrow, okay? I'll call you."
After Jared had gone, Jensen turned to Steve. "You coming with me?" he asked, softly.
"Do you want me to?" Steve held his breath. It was late, and he didn't really want to be looking for a hotel at eleven at night, but Jensen seemed to be so closed off that he wasn't sure that his attentions would be welcome.
"Come on." Jensen pursed his lips in thought. "Help me get out of this funk, dude. That'd be so good." He punched Steve's shoulder gently and gave him a smile that fell just short of convincing. "Bring that guitar, man. You don't get in the room without it."
"Hell, boy, you know me." Steve flashed him a grin that was at once happy and relieved. "Wherever I go, the guitar goes. It's an unwritten law." He followed Jensen to his car and stowed his guitar on the back seat, then slid into shotgun beside the man he'd come so far to see.
The suite was obviously Jensen's. He'd lived there long enough to put his stamp on the rooms – books and music, photographs and of course his guitar were all visible, and the photography equipment he had recently bought sat on the table alongside his computer.
A set of prints lay on the bed, scattered like leaves on the bedspread. Steve watched Jensen gather them together and toss them on the table, then moved over to pick them up and examine them. "Hey, these are good. Did you take them?" Jensen nodded as Steve looked up from his perusal of a snapshot that depicted a laughing Jared waving a hockey stick wildly. "You've caught him perfectly, big kid that he is."
Jensen had toed off his boots and socks and was now lounging against the headboard. At first glance he appeared relaxed, but when Steve looked closely, he could see that Jensen's muscles were clenched tight and he was trembling.
Steve didn't quite know what to do, and after looking helplessly at Jensen for a few supercharged moments, he turned to take his guitar out of its case. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to work on it, fingers caressing the strings as he brought it back into tune.
Jensen said nothing, merely let loose a shuddering sigh and relaxed just a fraction, his eyes fixed on Steve's fingers. Steve was aware of the tense green gaze, almost too aware. He shivered, felt Jensen's intense stare like a living creature gliding over his skin and shook his head at the fanciful notion.
Tuning completed, he strummed a couple of chords, just for the sheer joy of hearing the silvery tones ring out in the quiet room. Then he looked at Jensen, lounging beside him, freckles standing out sharply against pale skin, luminous eyes watching him, and he began to sing.
Pinata Novia had always gone down well, and from the corner of his eye he could see Jensen start to relax a little more, moving a little closer and finally humming a harmony as the song progressed. So far, so good, Steve thought, moving swiftly on to Spot in the Corner and from there to Happy Hour.
"That one's new," murmured Jensen, leaning forward to watch as Steve turned his guitar flat for Happy Hour. "I like it."
"Here's the one I wrote for you," Steve murmured, wondering if he actually had the nerve to sing it, now that the object of his desire was right here listening to him. He started to play the opening bars to "Don't Move On."
"Get out!" Jensen's tension had drained away. He was grinning now, the haunted look temporarily subsumed by his excitement and Steve was so captivated that he stopped playing to gaze at him.
"Fuck, man, you know that most of my songs are about you, don't you? You're it for me." And there it was, out in the open. Steve wondered if he should get up and go, throw down his guitar and dive onto Jensen, or pretend he was joking. He did none of them, but merely sat there, feeling frighteningly exposed, wishing that he had a cloak of invisibility so that Jensen couldn't see how much he was blushing.
"Play it?" Jensen's eyes were veiled, his head lowered so that Steve couldn't see, couldn't tell what he was thinking. Steve felt cold, then he started to play, warmed again by the music and the love that had given it life.
"Missing you brings me down..." As ever, once the music took him, he was free of the fear, free of his own mind, soaring as he let the song pour out every little worry and hurt he'd imagined. He didn't wait when he'd finished, because he didn't dare. He launched into "I'll Remember You, "starting to smile as Jensen joined in, singing the harmonies and leaning in close.
He was going to play something else when Jensen's hand shot out to hold his against the neck of his guitar and his music faltered into silence.
Jensen said nothing. He leaned in close, touched his lips to Steve's and that was enough for Steve. He turned his head so that he could capture the mouth so sweetly offered, letting his lips affirm what his songs had suggested while his cock moved from sleeping to full on lust in 0.6 seconds.
If anyone ever tells you that it's easy to make love with a guitar on your knee, Steve can tell them it's a lie. He couldn't move, couldn't respond the way he wanted to, because his guitar was there between them, delicate and needing to be protected. He could only put whatever soul Jensen hadn't taken from him already into the touch of his mouth, the caress of his tongue and the husky moan he couldn't hold back as Jensen claimed him again.
When Jensen finally pulled away, a tender smile lighting his eyes, Steve pulled the strap over his head swiftly and set his guitar aside with a sigh of relief. "You could've been the reason for the day the music died," he growled. "Was about to sacrifice my guitar for the cause."
"Oh?" Jensen wasn't looking guilty, if anything he seemed pleased with himself, a little smile quirking the corners of his lips as he leaned back on his elbows again. "Your self control is a wonder of nature, Stevie-boy. I'm just wondering what's keeping you now."
"Just wanted to look at you first, before I mess you up," said Steve, smirking as he gathered himself for the pounce. "Tryin' to get my head around the way you always manage to make me tongue tied an' stupid. Wonderin'..."
"...How I'm gonna make it through another day without you?" sang Jensen. There was a gleam in his eye that was just plain wicked, and that did it for Steve. He was toeing off his sneakers even as he dove forward to carry Jensen back onto the pillows, arms sliding under the other man's shoulders so that he covered him, pinned him and captured his mouth again.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Steve growled, licking around those heart-shaped lips, pressing down to part them and delve into the sweetness inside.
"Not me, dude. You're thinking of Jared," spluttered Jensen, when he was able to talk again. "I'm the quiet one."
"You're the one that I love," murmured Steve, head spinning. Jensen was wearing some kind of spicy cologne, the scent rising with the warmth of his body and suffusing the air with fragrance that seemed to be underlain by the tang of Jensen himself. Heat and lust and want chased each other around in Steve's head and he didn't fight them. He didn't give Jensen a chance to answer, just leaned down and claimed that mouth again.
There was no more room for talking, no more uncertainty as Steve, for once, took what he deserved. Knowing, nimble hands banished clothing, fingers traced, mapping out their territory, claiming it all as they touched each new patch of silken flesh.
There was a hint of desperation in Jensen's hands as they wound themselves into Steve's thick, blond hair, tightened and pulled him down. There was pain, and Steve drew his breath in sharply, wanting it. Jensen suddenly licked along his neck from collarbone to chin, nipping the loose flesh there with sharp, white teeth and leaving small marks in his wake. Steve growled, rolled them both so that Jensen was on top, circled him with arms that held him fast. "You wanna lead, baby," he murmured, husky and wanting. "Well, fuck it, I can dance, so do it."
Laughing a little wildly, Jensen kissed him again, mouth working against his, tongue flicking in, teasing, until he sucked and captured it, claimed it.
"You always did make me feel better about things, Steve." Jensen's voice was soft and low, vibrating against Steve's chest as they lay pressed together, sending a shuddering thrill through him.
"Always want to do that for you, Jen. You mean a lot to me." Steve raised his knees, wrapped a leg around one of Jensen's, pulling him ever closer, and writhed, grinding them together so that he could feel the solid heft of Jensen's cock against the crease of his thigh. "Gonna have your way with me?" he asked, hopefully.
"You got it," growled Jensen, fighting his way into Steve's jeans, wrestling with the shirt he was wearing, exposing Steve's skin to his gaze as he tore them off and tossed them to the floor.
"Now you!" Steve was doing his best, pulling at Jensen's jeans, getting them open and reaching in to take hold of his cock, hearing the hiss of Jensen's breath like the music that never left him for very long. It seemed to him that Jensen was being more assertive than usual, but he was far too desperate for the contact to puzzle over that right now.
Skin against skin was more satisfying. Jensen's cock slid against Steve's, and Jensen began to talk, low voiced and sensual as he told Steve just what he was going to do to him. The soft, deep tones tingled along his skin and tightened his balls. "You and me are gonna get it on, Steve. I'm gonna give you what you want, you can count on it." He reached for lube, pulled it out of the drawer and began to slick up his fingers. "Gonna do everything to you, man. You won't be able to walk when we're done."
Moving down between Steve's legs, Jensen began to slide his fingers along the crevice between Steve's cheeks, stroking with sticky, slippery fingers as he felt for the small pucker there. He ducked his head and licked around Steve's balls, nibbling and nuzzling, mouthing them gently. Steve had widened his eyes at Jensen's words. It was out of character for Jensen, who was never usually so determined, so uninhibited. Steve couldn't hold back his moans as Jensen sucked his balls gently into his mouth and swept his tongue over them so that they tightened under his ministrations. He moved down to explore Steve's perineum; head cocked to one side as he listened to Steve's gasping breaths. He laughed as Steve desperately clawed at him, trying to get the friction he craved. He laughed again as he moved further down, parting Steve's cheeks to reveal the opening between, stiffening his tongue and pushing it home. Steve began to whimper and jerk as Jensen tongue-fucked him.
Withdrawing his tongue for the moment, Jensen slowly pushed one slippery finger into Steve's tight ass, twisting and sliding it in and out. It was obvious when he finally hit Steve's sweet spot, because Steve cried out "Oh, God, Jen!" and thrashed his head wildly against the pillow.
Jensen lifted his head and smirked at Steve, a most un-Jensen-like expression, and Steve, shaking aside the lust that was clouding his head, frowned, an uneasy suspicion that there was something wrong. "This isn't like you, Jen. You okay?"
"I... yeah, I'm okay. It's Dean. He gets to me, and to tell the truth, sometimes I kinda like him." Jensen gave him a faint smile and then smiled again as he studied Steve's dick, nuzzling it. Jensen raised his eyes to look at his lover again. "Jesus, Steve! That thing is huge. How do you stop it from taking bites out of people's sandwiches and things?" It didn't seem to register with him that he was the cause of Steve's discomfort. He rubbed his cheek on it again, and then said, "I think you're going to need some help with it? It's angry, I can tell." And he sucked it into his mouth.
Well, it seemed as though he was going to get fucked by Dean Winchester tonight. The idea was surprisingly appealing. He ran his fingers through Jensen's short hair and laughed softly. "You don't need to worry about it. It won't hurt you, baby. It loves you." He gave a gasp as Jensen's tongue performed a wicked circuit of his cockhead. "You're gonna kill me, Jen," he whispered, wondering if it was truly Jensen that wanted him, or if he was just going to be another notch on Dean Winchester's bedpost.
The cocky smile Jensen gave him then was purely feral. "You just bet I am. Gonna dehydrate you, Steve; gonna suck the juice right out of you and substitute it with mine."
Lips and tongues, fingers sliding over skin, the heady scent of Jensen, musk and sweat and sweet oil, and Steve was gone, lost in the heady delight of having this, being the one in Jensen's arms again. "I wanna stay up late and celebrate the dawn with you," he murmured. "And celebrate the night, the day, your fine ass, everything."
"Hush..." Jensen looked up and smiled at him for a brief instant before his mouth came down on Steve's cock, causing all his blood to rush south and making him gasp. Jensen's smile burned itself into his mind, the huge, lustrous eyes, fixed unblinkingly on his sent butterflies racing through his belly, and he bucked, once, twice and came, fists pounding back into the mattress as he shot.
"God, Jen..." Steve's voice cracked, and he lay gasping, trying to recover. Jensen, eyes still fixed on his, slid up to cover him, pressing him down against the bed, owning him.
As Jensen gave him back the taste of himself in a long, hard, open-mouthed kiss, Steve could only whimper, and hang on for the ride.
He felt limp and boneless as Jensen arranged his limbs so that he was open wide, and he moaned as he felt Jensen's fingers slide inside him, burn and heat and the dull ache of entry dragging a gasp from him.
Jensen kissed the gasp away from his lips, chased it with sloppy tongue kisses, fingers working to stretch Steve while his mouth dragged sensation through the musician. Miraculously, Steve felt himself hardening once more, cock rising as fingers pressed in deep and found his sweet spot again.
"Oh, fuck," whispered Steve.
"You've got that right," murmured Jensen, lips grazing Steve's rough chin as he reached around to grab the lube and slick up his cock ready. "Your ass is mine. You'd better believe it."
Rolling back over onto Steve, Jensen hooked Steve's leg with his arm, putting it over his shoulder and kneeling up to gaze down on him, lips curled in a smile. "Easy, dude. Here we go."
Fingers are suddenly gone, to be replaced by Jensen's cock, thick and hard, slick and insistent, pressing in to stretch Steve until he truly believes he'll split in two. There's a moment of pain, and then a give, and he feels Jensen take him, fill him, own him all over again.
Watching Jensen's face reflect the pleasure is worth everything. The burn and the sting fade, and Jensen raised his eyebrows, mutely asking for permission.
"Do it, dude." Steve could hear the growl in his voice, knew the urgency of his lover's need in the fine trembling he could feel in his thighs. He knew that he wanted this, right here and now, and he would do it for Jensen even if it was painful to the end.
It wasn't. Jensen's thrusting began to drag across the delicious little nub deep inside him, rekindling the fire, first a smolder, then suddenly, as Jensen began to move faster, a conflagration.
He couldn't look away from Jensen. He was gorgeous, a debauched angel. Eyes closed, head tipped back, white teeth sunk into the plush lower lip, neck arched as he shuddered with pleasure. Steve wanted to photograph him like this, just like this, so he would have the moment captured forever once he was back in L.A.. He threw Jensen's camera a longing glance as it sat on the dresser across the room, wishing he could reach it, capture this moment and savor it when he was alone again – to have this moment forever.
Jensen grabbed for Steve's cock just then, and Steve almost came up off the bed as the rough caress sent tingles through him. "You're gonna come for me," said Jensen, dark mirth gleaming from filthy bedroom eyes. "You're gonna come when I do, because feeling your ass squeezing my dick is gonna be the best thing ever, and you want me to feel good, don't you?"
Beyond speech again – and it seemed to Steve that he was almost always that way around Jensen – Steve could only nod, then moan, and then, as Jensen lost his rhythm and his hips started to stutter, obey.
Jensen's face when he came was beautiful. Steve would have reached for him if he'd had the energy, but as it was, all he could do was fist the sheets and moan as he felt Jensen's juices fill him, felt himself ripple and pulse around Jen's cock.
It wasn't long before Jensen toppled forward to lie, half on and half off Steve, body limp and warm. Then Steve could hold him, press his lips against the pad of muscle on Jensen's shoulder and think the words he was so scared to say.
I love you.
"Sleep now. We can talk tomorrow, but I'm beat right now." Jensen's deep voice heralded the extinguishing of the lamp beside the bed, and Jensen turned to return Steve's kiss, pressing soft lips to sweaty hair and sighing happily. "Glad you came."
"Oh, so am I, Jen. So am I."
Missing you brings me down
So sad when you're not around
In the night
While someone holds you tight inside your room
I'm all alone til the afternoon arrives
And you drive into the space I hold for you
But you just drive through
I want to stay up late
And celebrate the dawn with you
I wanna chance to make
Every dream you've had come through
Not showing you is tough
Cos what I know of you is enough to make me say
I think of you more times than I can count each day
So please stay
Cos it rains up there and it's not where I belong
Don't move on
And what I'd give to wake beside
The one I thought I'd never find
And oddly enough you found me
Cos I was lost in hiding
In a passage I was lying silently
So don't move on
Don't go, I don't want you traveling on.