more than words

[fufaraw]

THIRTEEN

"So where are we going?" Jensen was a little excited about going out. But he was also a little diffident about spending Sunday afternoon watching football on TV with strangers.

"My friend Gordon asked a few people over for the game this afternoon," Jared repeated the information he'd given Jensen earlier, aware of his ceiver's jitters. "Gordon and his ceiver have been together about eight years now, I think. Richard's coming, and he's bringing his ceiver, too."

Jared took the freeway onramp and merged smoothly into traffic, checking his mirrors and keeping an eye on traffic ahead and to the side. Jensen's fingers twitched. It had been more than two months since he'd driven. He missed it.

"Richard's older, our dads' age," Jared continued. "He and his wife were married for more than twenty years. She wasn't fertile, and she didn't want to have kids with a ceiver, so Richard just accepted there wouldn't be children in his life. Marion died a year ago, and Richard decided he wanted kids after all. He applied for a ceiver a few months after she was gone, and Daniel was assigned to him about six weeks ago." Jared grinned. "It's a real May-December kind of thing."

Jensen nodded. "Must be."

"There are a couple of other peres who will be bringing their ceivers," Jared continued. "I thought it would be a chance for you to meet some of the others, maybe talk over some of their experiences, and your concerns?"

Jensen's throat tightened. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to meet or get to know other ceivers. On the other hand, maybe it could be helpful. He felt Jared's gaze, and managed a nod and a half smile. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe."

The house was bigger than Jared's, and in a more expensive neighborhood. They drove through the heavy iron gated entrance into a walled courtyard. The wall extended all the way around the house, and there were wide sweeps of lawn as far as Jensen could see. He could hear the sounds of children's laughter and splashing at a distance--there must be a pool in the back yard. Jared parked and they walked up to the door, which opened before they could knock.

"Come in, come in!" Gordon grabbed Jared in a brief hug. "Glad you could make it, man."

"Thanks for having us," Jared smiled. Gordon gave Jensen a toes-to-hairline assessing glance before telling Jared, "Ames is in the den. Back that way." Jared glanced at Jensen and nodded in the direction Gordon had indicated, waiting till Jensen started to move that way. Jensen could hear football on the TV coming from another room, and hesitated, thinking to go in and watch, but Jared's hand fell on his shoulder and turned him toward the den. "I'll see you in a while Jensen. Enjoy yourself." He and Gordon obviously had no intention that Jensen should join them, so he moved on toward the doorway and the quiet conversation he could hear as he moved away from the TV.

The room's lighting was subdued, but there were comfortable chairs and couches, and lamps on the tables. Jensen hesitated in the doorway, and a man in traditional ceiver dress rose and came to meet him. "Hi, Jensen?" Jensen nodded. "Gordon said you and Jared would be coming. Come in, meet the guys." A hand on his back gently ushered him into the room and indicated places to sit.

"I'm Ames, Gordon's my pere." He turned to another man dressed as a ceiver, seated in a deep club chair. "This is Marty, he's with Ed, and that's Carl over there, he's with Drew." The other ceivers nodded. Jensen felt a little out of place in his jeans and t-shirt. But he found a seat and settled in.

"I've got snacks, let me get those," Ames said. "Jensen? What are you drinking?"

Beer, Jensen wanted to say. And to watch the game, but he answered, "What do you have?"

"Um, apple juice, cranberry, and OJ--I can cut those with water or seltzer for those of us watching the sugar. And I have herbal tea, and plain seltzer or water. What'll it be?"

"Just water," Jensen said. "Can I help you with anything?"

"No, no," Ames reassured him, sweeping the others with a glance. "I can get it. Anybody need a refill?" Nobody took Ames up on it, so he disappeared to get the refreshments.

The ceiver introduced as Marty turned to Jensen. "So, you're new, huh?"

"Uh. Yeah," Jensen nodded. When no one spoke, he added. "I've been with Jared about two months now."

"Three years for me," Carl chimed in from across the room, and Marty said, "I've been with Ed for nearly five years."

Jensen nodded. He couldn't really think of anything to say. Carl didn't have that problem. "So, you're the one, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't find out you're a ceiver till now?"

Jensen stared. How did he know? And what business was it of his?

Marty spoke, "You never had any training? Is that true?"

"Yeah." Jensen didn't want to make any enemies, here, he didn't want to lie. But he wasn't comfortable being the topic of conversation, either.

"So, what do you do? I mean--you were never taught--"

"Here we are!" Jensen was saved by Ames' return, laden with a tray, which Jensen moved to clear a space for on the coffee table. He glanced at the offerings. Raw vegetables, apple slices, a bowl of what looked like hummus, and another of cottage cheese. Ames handed the glass of water to Jensen and smiled before he took a seat on the sofa with Carl. There was an odd noise, a kind of squeak, and Marty reached down beside his chair and lifted something into his lap.

A baby. It was an infant, maybe a couple of months old. Jensen hadn't even known it was sleeping there in the basket Jensen now noticed beside Marty's chair. Marty was cooing to it now.

"Did we have a good nap, did we? Are we hungry? Ready for some food, boo?" As Jensen watched, Marty held the baby in one arm while he pulled his vest back on one side and lifted his tunic before settling the baby at his breast. The child fastened on the nipple, making little grunting noises as it sucked.

Marty turned back to the conversation. Jensen didn't hear what the others in the room were saying. His stomach rolled, and he tore his gaze away, tried to shut out the noise. He couldn't think about this, even with it right there in front of him. Especially with it right in front of him.

"...Jensen?"

His eyes snapped to Ames' face, and he lifted an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

They went on talking, and Jensen did his best not to pay attention to the noises the baby was making, did his best to deal with a man breastfeeding, did his best to keep from putting himself in Marty's place before too long.

Carl groaned, and moved to stand, placing a hand on his hip as he arched his back, stretching. The vest and full tunic did nothing to disguise the round swell of his stomach. "I've got to pee again. Kid's romping on my bladder." Ames and Marty smirked in sympathy. It was all Jensen could do to keep from running from the room. He made an attempt to actually listen to the conversation, which appeared right now to be about diaper detergents and second-grade homework, but his hands were knotted into fists, and his nails cut into his palms. He didn't notice at first, but then the pain helped keep him grounded. He tried to ease up a little--didn't want to bleed on the furniture.

Movement at the door drew Jensen's eye. He assumed it was Carl returning. But it was a kid, a young boy who looked about sixteen or seventeen. He wore the tunic over his pants, but no vest. And while Marty, Ames and Jensen watched, the large older man with him cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply, then drew back to pepper tiny kisses on his nose, his chin, his forehead. The man whispered something in the boy's ear, and gave one ass cheek a squeeze before moving away toward the sound of the TV.

"Daniel!" Ames called, and the boy turned in answer. His expression was soft and unfocused; his lips were swollen and red from kissing. "Come and sit down." Ames patted the sofa beside him. As the boy brushed by Jensen, he smelled like sex.

Marty raised the baby to his shoulder and began to pat its back. The infant belched, and the other men chuckled indulgently. Daniel reached both hands toward Marty. "Oh, can I hold her?"

Marty wiped her mouth with the corner of her blanket and handed her over. Daniel accepted the baby like she was made of glass, but quickly cuddled her to his body like she was a missing part. While the rest of the room looked on, smiling, Daniel talked in a low voice to the infant, who regarded him with a stare that could have been either blank, or wise.

Carl was back, and he wheedled until Daniel surrendered the baby to his arms. She seemed to snuggle in atop his bulging belly, and he focused on her little face to talk nonsense to her.

Marty regarded him with a reserved expression. "Won't be long before you and Jared have one of your own," he said. Jensen didn't answer, and Marty didn't push. None of the others in the room seemed to notice Jensen's lack of response. "You want to hold her next?"

"What?"

"The baby. You want to hold her?"

Jensen shook his head. He was paralyzed at the very idea. "No, that's all right."

"Suit yourself," Marty told him. "But you have the look of someone who's never had much exposure to children. A little practice might not go amiss."

Jensen just smiled tightly and didn't say anything else. The conversation seemed to flow on around him without any input from him, and he was fine with that. In less than an hour, the man Jensen realized was Richard was at the door again. "Daniel."

The boy leapt to his feet, his face alight, and rushed to the arms of the older man. The two of them disappeared. But then Daniel was back twenty minutes later, flushed and glowing. During the following hour and a half, Richard called for Daniel twice more.

He couldn't recall later what they had talked about in that room. But when Jared appeared at the door, Jensen scrambled to his feet and quickly went to Jared. "Time to go?"

Jared ducked down to eye level. "Are you okay, Jensen? Are you not having a good time?"

"It's been fun," Jensen turned to Ames, and each of the others in turn. "It was nice to meet you all."

Ames nodded, as did Carl. Marty said, "We'll have to get together again soon."

Jensen just nodded, and turned back to Jared. "Now, please? Can we go?"


Jared tried to start a conversation in the car on the way home, but Jensen only answered in monosyllables. He was out of the car and in the house before Jared even had the garage door down. He followed Jensen more slowly, wanting to know what had gone on at Gordon's that had Jensen so rattled.

Jensen had a beer in his hand, half of it gone. He took another long pull and met Jared's quizzical gaze. "What was that, Jared?"

Jared got his own beer out of the fridge and popped off the cap. "I thought it would be good for us to get out of the house for a change. Spend some time with friends, give you a chance to meet some new people."

Jensen nodded. "New people. People like me, you mean?" At Jared's puzzled look, he asked, "Is that what you want, Jared? Is that what you expect of me?"

Jared's arms rose in a helpless shrug. "Help me out here, man. I don't know what's got you so upset. Did something happen? Somebody say something..?"

"Did you have fun this afternoon, Jared? Watching the game with friends, drinking a little bit? Telling jokes, catching up with the guys? Betting on plays, maybe? Chowing down on game food? Pizza? Salty, fatty stuff you're going to have to work off in the gym the next few days?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Yeah. We could hear you, a little bit. That house has pretty good soundproofing, but the doors were open, so sound carried a little bit. We could hear the mumble of the TV, and you guys laughing and talking. Sounded like you were having a good time."

"It was fun, okay? It was just a game with the guys. What are you making such a big--"

"Did you look in that room when you came to pick me up? Did you get any impression at all, anything you remember?"

Jared thought a minute, and then shook his head. "It was--nice? I mean, it was kind of--dark. And--"

"Quiet?"

Jared nodded, understanding beginning to dawn. "Yeah."

"I'm not--" Jensen set his empty bottle carefully on the counter and took a step back. "I can't. Those guys-- Is that what you expect me to be? I'm not like that. I can't be like that."

Jared stepped toward him, getting hands on his shoulders, keeping him from retreating any further. "Jensen. Jensen. I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I was stupid and I didn't think. Forgive me.

"Of course you're not like those guys. We're not like that." He felt the tension ease a little in Jensen's body, and risked pulling him closer, getting arms around him, but gently, loosely, reassuring rather than restraining. He dipped to nuzzle against Jensen's neck, begging forgiveness and offering reassurance.

"That's not what I want. I want you. Just you. You don't have to be anything or anyone other than who you are right now. I won't ask it."

Jensen leaned into him, his arms coming up around Jared's back, a step to get his leg between Jared's, a slight pressure there, increasing the longer they stood embracing. "I can't be like them."

"I know. I don't want you to be. Just want you, just you."

Jensen dropped his arms, stepped back out of Jared's embrace, nodded. "Yeah, okay, good. But I'm here to get pregnant, Jared. If this works, I'm going to look just like Carl. I--" He wrapped his arms tight around his middle, wouldn't meet Jared's gaze. "I don't think I can do this."

Jared held himself still with an effort, not wanting to crowd Jensen, letting him have his space, work things through. "We'll work it out," he promised. "The two of us, we'll work it out."

FOURTEEN

Jared stopped running in the mornings before work. He left Jensen sleeping in, dressed and slipped out without waking him. When he got home, Jensen was dressed out and ready to go. Jared would rather have showered and stretched out for a little bit before dinner, and afterward some TV, or a few games of COD before bed. But he was well aware that Jensen had been cooped up all day, and after a quick greeting, he changed into running clothes and the two of them headed out. It was good time spent together. Jared wanted to make up for his screwup with the football party, and prove to Jensen that they were different than those guys. They didn't talk a lot, until they got to the halfway point and slowed to a walk, had a mouthful of water. They ambled a while, Jensen taking note of people in the park or moving through the shopping area, eyes bright with interest. They ran back toward home, taking it easy. Then it was a shower, a blowjob, perhaps a reciprocal one, or a handjob, a few minutes kissing, dressing in sweats, and downstairs for dinner and time on the couch in front of the TV.

Jared was busy getting back up to speed at work, and fielding questions from his friends and coworkers about his new status and his ceiver. Chad kept complaining. "Man, you never want to come out for drinks anymore. You're turning into a pussy. An old pussy, man, just stay by the fire and let your wife keep you warm and entertained." Chad didn't back off at Jared's frown. "How is the ball and chain, anyway? What's he doing with himself all day while his sugar daddy's out making a living? When are you gonna ask us over to beat your asses at COD?"

And oh yeah, that was a good idea—not! Jared just shook his head and promised to get away after work for drinks with the guys...soon. He felt obligated to rush home after work, knowing he was Jensen's only company and contact, other than Marta. He worried about that a little. But as long as Jensen seemed to be settling in at home, Jared really hadn't given a lot of thought to how Jensen was occupying himself during the day.


Jensen was trying, he really was. He slept as late as he could make himself stay in bed, took his time showering and dressing. He lingered over breakfast, talking with Marta, until she excused herself to go do laundry or something. He swam, he worked out, he played a few sessions of one-player. He surfed the net, read the news.

He had started emailing his family and some of his friends, he just wasn't ready to face them yet, still unsettled and unsure in his new life. But it helped to ease the feelings of isolation to email back and forth.

He explored the house, finding three more empty bedrooms on the second floor, with a shared bath. There was a door at the end of the hall where the bedroom he shared with Jared was; it opened onto the bonus room above the garage. Beyond that was another bonus room, built when the weight room had been added on. The rooms were finished, dry-walled and carpeted, but empty. Jensen looked out the windows and saw only treetops, and a slice of the pool. It was quiet up here, not that the house was noisy, but sounds of traffic and neighbors didn't seem to reach these rooms.

His folks had sent the rest of his things, his guitars, both electric and acoustic, his amps, his rudimentary recording and playback equipment. There were a few things he'd collected on vacations, gifts from family and friends: a piece of carving, a painting, a couple of prints and some posters he'd had framed or mounted, a horse blanket, a wooden ship's model he had worked on for two years and was quite proud of, other things. Everything had been stored in the garage, and Jensen set about bringing it upstairs and arranging it around one of the empty rooms. When he started, he just wanted to go through it all, but then it became important to be able to see all of it, and once he had it arrayed, it felt familiar, somehow comforting. He wouldn't keep it all, of course. There was no need to hang onto the duck he'd carved from a tree branch at scout camp--especially as it looked more like a lizard than a duck. But as he winnowed and arranged, the room started to feel more and more like a den, a retreat, a place of his own.


He heard the key in the lock, heard Jared go into his office to leave his laptop and other stuff, heard him make his way to the stairs. Jensen had made sure Marta would be gone this evening, and as Jared reached the top of the stairs, he struck, and struck hard, pushing and shoving at Jared, up against the wall, an ambush, giving no quarter.

Jensen wrenched the tie loose and scattered a button or two as he yanked the shirt collar open.
"--Jensen--"

"No talking." Jensen bit down hard on the side of Jared's neck, tongues and lips and teeth and stubbled skin of necks and jaws. Chests shoving closer, no air between, hips and thighs bumping, rubbing, pushing. Jensen's hipbone and thigh pressed hard against Jared's slacks-covered cock, Jensen's own finding friction against Jared's splayed thigh. "Want you," he muttered into Jared's mouth, tugging Jared's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Got me," Jared's dimples flared as the words, hoarse and breathy, fell against Jensen's lips.

"Wanna fuck you," Jensen yanked up Jared's shirt, getting hands on skin before thumbing open his suit pants and shoving a hand down the front to cup Jared's rapidly filling cock.

"Thought you'd never ask,'' Jared groaned, and Jensen grabbed him by hip and shoulder, shoving, pushing, manhandling Jared away from the wall, down the hall toward the bedroom.

"Bed. Now!"


Things were better. Four months at Jared's, and things were definitely better. The sex was still weird, but it was sex, and he got off, and more important, he felt like a hero, like he had some sort of enormous power, whenever he got Jared off. He'd gotten addicted to the gasps and the slack mouth, the filthy language and the miles-long limbs of Jared in bed, at Jensen's mercy. He supposed he could give up tits for Jared, he grinned to himself.

He had shown Jared what he was doing with the bonus room, and Jared had given him free rein. There was still money in Jensen's account, saved for the trip to England and Europe, and credit on his VISA, and he mentioned maybe ordering furniture, paint colors, shelving. Jared and he went shopping on weekends, when Jared had time, and the room had started coming together. Jensen decided to paint the second room as well, and was deciding how he wanted to use it. It was absorbing and fun having a project to work on. Jared asked for the credit card bills so he could pay them. It was awkward, but Jensen had no income, and Jared was responsible for him--and for making him happy. Jensen was working on being okay with that. Things were definitely better than Jensen had believed they were going to be. He was--if not actually happy, then he was okay.


"Jared, I'm not peeing on a stick." If Jensen's voice wavered a little, it was from the nausea he'd been having for the last week. And some annoyance at the hopeful grin and glances Jared couldn't help throwing his way.

"Come on, Jen. We need to know!" Jared wheedled, waving the piece of pink and white plastic in his hand.

"I don't need to know," Jensen grumbled, halfway to resuming his seat and unsure if he was going to bolt to the bathroom again.

"Then you need to see the doctor. There's something wrong--you shouldn't be throwing up for this long over a bad taco."

"I told you," Jensen eased himself down, trying not to jostle his iffy insides. "Once I get an upset stomach, they tend to stick around for a while. Hand me that ginger ale." He put out a hand toward the soda can. "And make me some toast."

Jared handed his ceiver the ginger ale and headed for the toaster. "You gonna keep it down this time?"

Jensen emitted a loud belch, and then grinned unrepentantly at his own rudeness. "Gonna try," he promised.

An hour later the toast had made a reappearance and the ginger ale was all gone. Jared volunteered to make a convenience store run for more, and Jensen was alone. His eye fell on the stick from the pregnancy test, forgotten on the end table. He picked it up, and the box it came in, and read the instructions.

It was impossible. It wasn't something that could happen to him. Never in a lifetime.

Was it? That's why he was here, after all, wasn't it? Did he want to know? He wanted to know it was a false alarm. He wanted to know this was just a random stomach bug--that's all this was. He'd prove it.


Jared came home to an empty house. "Jensen? Jen, I got the ginger ale. You want some now?" Jensen wasn't in the den, nor in the living room. Maybe he'd gone up to bed. He'd been feeling pretty lousy for the last week. Jared opened the two-liter, put ice in a glass and filled it with the soda. It was pretty late, so he checked the doors, set the alarm, and turned out the lights before he headed upstairs.

"Jen? I brought your soda, man," he called quietly. If Jensen had managed to fall asleep he didn't want to wake him. There were no lights on in the bedroom, nor in the en-suite. Familiarity and streetlight glow took him across the room to set the glass on the bedside table. "Jen?" He reached out to find Jensen, but the pillows were smooth, there was no indentation where someone had lain. He snapped on the bedside lamp and saw the room was empty. "Jensen?" Alarm spiked his voice, and he turned to the bathroom, flipping the light switch on another empty room. He turned to search the rest of the house, but a flash of pink from the trashcan caught his eye. He moved to retrieve it--it was the box from the test. Under it was the stick, two blue lines drawn plainly across the indicator.

Positive. He'd taken the test, and it was positive. Jensen was pregnant! Jared's heart leapt with excited joy, before he was compelled to confront the fact that Jensen didn't share his elation.

Oh god. Where was he? What had he done--had he--? Jared didn't allow that thought to complete itself, he just dropped the evidence back in the trash and spun to begin looking for Jensen.


He wasn't in the house. Jared had searched the upstairs first, Jensen's old room, the bathroom, the other guest rooms, closets. He even searched the empty bonus rooms above the garage and weight room before searching the ground floor. There just weren't that many places to hide--and it made Jared's heart hurt that Jensen wanted to hide.

This wasn't something he could hide from. But Jared would help him face it. They would be together in this, Jensen wouldn't be alone. They would make plans, and read to each other about stages, and about raising kids. It would be okay, it would. Jared just had to find him. He wasn't in the office, or the laundry room, or the garage. He wasn't in the weight room, the cabana kitchen or the changing room, Jared checked every shower stall.

He couldn't be gone, he couldn't. Jensen would never run away. Aside from the relationship he and Jared had forged, Jensen would know that running would put his family in jeopardy, and he would never do that. So if he wasn't in the house, then he had to be outside.

Oh god, the pool. Jared shut off the alarm, hit the outside lights and sprinted out to the pool. Which lay blue and calm and thank god empty under the lights. The shadows of the trees were black and solid, and he needed a flashlight, but he couldn't take the time to go back to the garage to get one. He had to find Jensen. He started at the corner of the weight room and worked his way along the fence to the back of the property. His eyes were adjusting a little, but he should have turned off the floodlights--the shadows were so dense he couldn't see into them from six feet away. He kept to the fence, walking the back edge of his yard, his heart in his throat at every step. He'd been listening so hard he realized he hadn't spoken since he'd left the garage.

"Jensen?"

There was a soft scuffling ahead of him. Oh god, "Jensen? Is that you?" He felt along the fence, blind in the darkness, and then the branches overhead parted in a breeze and moonlight slanted down. There, huddled on the ground into the corner of the fence, as far from the house as he could get and still be on Jared's property, was Jensen.

He shook violently when Jared stooped to gather him in his arms, and resisted Jared's pull. But Jared wouldn't be denied, and he manhandled his lover up onto his feet, though most of his weight leaned on Jared.

"Jensen, thank god. Let's get you into the house." Jensen shivered, and Jared tried to chafe his arms as he steered him toward the lights.

"Jared?" he sounded confused and uncertain, almost dazed.

"Yeah, Jen."

"What're we doing out here?"

Jared snorted a little relieved laugh. "I don't know, man. You tell me."


He got Jensen inside, got the locks, the lights, and the alarm reset, then manhandled him up the stairs. Jensen still seemed a little shocky, so Jared sat him on the bed and put the glass of ginger ale in his hand and ordered him to drink it. When he stopped halfway, Jared tipped the glass up with a finger until Jensen finished it. He stripped him down to his boxer briefs, and put him to bed, quickly undressing himself and climbing in to spoon up behind him.

"You're all right now," Jared nosed at the hair on his crown. "Sleep, Jensen." Jensen pressed back against him a little more, sighed in what sounded like relief, and was asleep almost in the next breath.

Jared took a slow breath and let it out almost as slowly. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day. He made a mental note to call in to work for the day off. He and Jensen had to talk. And there were other things that needed to be done, none of them that Jensen was going to welcome.


Sunlight filled the room when he opened his eyes. His body felt languid and easy, the way it hadn't for the last few days. A solid weight behind him radiated warmth, and Jensen squirmed back into that warmth and closed his eyes, planning to doze for a while.

"Get up." A large hand shoved gently at his shoulder, but he ignored it. "Get yourself in the shower," Jared's voice buzzed in his ear, his whiskers brushing the skin and making him flinch. "We have an appointment at 10:00."

The sunlight went harsh and all the warmth bled away. A heavy lump of ice settled in his stomach, radiating cold out into the rest of him. "What kind of appointment?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Dr. Stephens needs to examine you, make sure everything's okay. And we need to set up a timetable of exams and labs and appointments for you." Jared threw back the duvet, leaving him exposed and chilled. "Vitamins, diet, exercise, need to get all that in gear. And as soon as we get the all-clear, we need to call our families and let them know."

On his side, his face pressed into his pillow to block out sight, Jensen pulled his knees up to his chest, balling his body into as small a shape as he could. Jared pushed at his shoulder again, and when Jensen only curled tighter, Jared shook him. "Jensen. Get up."

"Go without me."

"What would be the point in that?"

"This is your party, Jared, your grand plan. Nothing to do with me."

"Wrong." Jared crawled over him to stand at the bedside and manhandle him up to a sitting position. Jensen's stomach rolled and clenched at the change in position. He clamped his lips shut, but the effort was futile. He pushed Jared aside and sprinted for the toilet.

He managed to nibble some dry toast, and drink some club soda. He brought the bottle with him as Jared herded him into the car. Jared knew better than to try and make conversation, and just left Jensen alone as he navigated through the streets, but Jensen could feel him vibrating with tension and excitement. He shared the tension, but the only other things he could feel were alternating waves of dread and panic, laced with a tinge of nausea. More than once his left hand strayed to the buckle of his seat belt, his right to the door handle. Then he heard the click as Jared engaged the child-lock, and almost snickered.

"It's going to be fine, Jensen," Jared's voice was firm and sure, with a happy undertone that made Jensen's panic flare even higher. "You'll see."

FIFTEEN

He got through it, mainly by keeping his eyes closed, or at least not looking at anybody, and humming lyrics in his head to block out the questions Dr. Stephens, "Hi Jensen, call me Mark," fired at him. Jared answered them. He had to lie down while Mark pressed hard enough to leave bruises in tender places on his belly, and then gloved up for a quick and dirty internal. Then there were the stirrups and the speculum and the spelunker's headlight. Mark kept up a running commentary the whole time. Jensen wished he'd thought to bring his iPod.

Jared conversed eagerly with the equally enthusiastic doctor about prescriptions and instructions and advice, and carefully made notes of it all. Jensen worried at a lyric line in his head for a song he'd been working on, trying this combination of words, and then that, substituting nouns and verbs till one combination felt right.

"...Jensen?" Another bunch of words he hadn't heard. He looked up at the sound of his name, and Mark pushed a sheaf of booklets and handouts into his hands. "These will help you understand the changes you're going through. I can imagine it's hard for you to deal with all this information, these things that are happening, especially when you never had the training and the education in at least knowing what to expect." Mark tried for eye contact, but Jensen laid the stack of slick paper with its colorful fonts and photos down on the exam table, let his focus slide away again. Jared could deal with it.

Jared was good at that. He took Jensen straight home and turned him over to Marta with strict instructions to eat something, before running back out to fill the prescriptions and pick up the supplements Mark had recommended. Jensen nibbled at his lunch and went upstairs, crawled into bed to nap.

He woke late in the afternoon, cocooned in the warmth of Jared spooned up behind him. Sensing Jensen was awake, Jared nibbled on his shoulder, his neck, sucked an earlobe between his teeth and tugged and sucked at it. Jensen's cock stirred, and he relaxed and pressed back into the warmth. Jared's hand stroked his flank, his hip, and Jensen expected to feel it wrap around his filling cock. Instead, the fingertips stroked low across his belly, and then the flat of Jared's hand settled there in a gentle caress.

Jensen stiffened, and pushed himself up, away, and onto his feet, grabbing his boxer briefs and heading into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Jared heard as he relieved himself, washed his hands, splashed his face. He came through the bedroom, scooping his discarded jeans and tee off the floor without looking at Jared, who said from the bed where he lay waiting for Jensen to return, "You feeling better?"

Jensen tugged his jeans up, fastened them, threw his tee on and headed out the door. "Yeah."


Jared stared at the doorway Jensen had just left. He'd laid down with him hoping for a little snuggle time, and maybe even sex. Jensen had seemed into it, but then suddenly couldn't get away fast enough. Jared sighed and stretched, before getting up and finding his own clothing. He had the whole rest of the afternoon off, and he'd planned for them to spend it together.

He found Jensen in the living room, in the middle of a one-player. Jared picked up the other control and waited for an opportunity to join the game. The silence was oppressive, though. "So, Mark's nice," was the conversation opener he chose. Jensen killed somebody onscreen. "I got your 'scrips and your vitamins and things. I thought you should probably start taking them at supper." Another character met a spectacular end. "Some of them need to be taken with food." The game ended, and Jensen waited silently for Jared to log on.

"Jensen?"

His character was overcome by a vicious attack, but Jared was a master at this game, and he fought off all but the two or three assailants who ran away. "Jensen, come on, talk to me."

"Nice move, Jared."

"Thanks!" He waited a beat or two before nudging the conversation back on track. "Did you get a chance to look at any of the information he gave us?"

Silence. And then two of his henchmen were pinned down by a hail of gunfire. "Some of it's really interesting. I think if we learn more--"

Jensen threw down his control, rose, and stalked off toward the sliders, and out onto the patio. Jared shut down the game and stowed the controls, giving the man some time before going after him. As he approached the glass doors, though, Marta announced, "Dinner."

"Would you mind calling Jensen?" he asked, and when the housekeeper nodded, he went to measure out the doses of the vitamins, supplements, and prescriptions Jensen would be taking for the next few months. There were a number of them. No wonder hospitals put meds in those little plastic cups. Not having one of those, Jared took down a shot glass from the cupboard, and put Jensen's pills in that, and set the glass by his plate.

Things were not much better, if at all, during dinner. Jared attempted to make conversation, Jensen let him. Jensen’s eyes were on his plate, or on his hands, anywhere but on Jared, except when his lips twisted at the sight of the shot glass. He raised it in salute, his green gaze blazing at Jared, an expression more sneer than smile on his face. “Bottoms up!” He tossed it back like a shot of liquor, and chased it down with a swallow or two of water.

Jared smiled in approval, but Jensen’s gaze had fallen again, and he wouldn’t engage in conversation. He pushed the food around on his plate, but Jared noticed he didn’t eat half of it. He opened his mouth to encourage Jensen to eat more, and then thought better of it. When Jensen was obviously finished, fork down in spite of a half-full plate, Jared suggested, “Movie?”

Green eyes flickered to him briefly, and away, and Jensen shook his head. “I’m a little tired. I’m just gonna go on to bed.”

“I’ll come too,” Jared offered, but Jensen shook his head.

“To sleep, Jared. You...watch some TV or something. I know you, and you’re not ready to go to sleep.”

Jared grinned. It was the first time Jensen had actually said something normal, all day. He took it as a good sign. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed,” he promised, intending in that moment to keep it.

“Probably take an army,” Jensen muttered as he headed to the stairs. Jared cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher before he settled by himself on the sofa and reached for the remote. The DVR had been neglected for a few days; it probably needed clearing off.


Pregnancy wasn’t fun for the dad, either, Jared found out in the next few days. Jensen wasn’t interested in sex. He was touchy and cranky and while he made no advances himself, he allowed Jared to find release, even accepted an infrequent hand job or a blowjob. But just as often, he would roll out of Jared’s arms and hurry to the bathroom, and Jared would lie and wince in sympathy as Jensen retched into the toilet. Jensen seemed to find comfort, though, in Jared’s arms, little-spooned into the curve of his body.

There were times Jensen rolled out of bed to use the bathroom, or to wander downstairs to watch something off the DVR or a DVD, or to load up a game because he “couldn’t sleep”, only to be found in the morning curled under the sofa quilt. It took a little while for Jared to realize that those were the times Jared’s hand had gently stroked, or had settled in a flat caress low on Jensen’s abdomen, where their baby was growing inside him. The pile of booklets and information Mark had given them lay as Jared had left it on the end table, untouched. As were the books he had ordered on ceiver anatomy and management of pregnancy.

Jensen slept late, as he had done since Jared went back to work. But he was taking afternoon naps now, Marta reported. And he was in bed and asleep not long after dinner. His appetite was low; he seemed nauseous much of the time, and random, unexpected, often tiny things would trigger bouts of vomiting. Jensen spent a lot of the time he wasn’t in bed on the couch in front of the TV. Mark assured him that it was all pretty normal when Jared called, and suggested he back off as much as possible and just let Jensen get through it as easily as he could. The symptoms would ease during the second trimester, the doctor promised.

He also indicated Jensen was past the “risky” part of pregnancy where miscarriages were most likely. They were into the traditional “announcement” time of Jensen’s pregnancy, and Jared was drawing up the guest list for the party.

“Who do you want to invite, Jensen?”

“What?”

“Who do you want to come to the announcement party?”

Jensen made his objections known. He didn’t want a party. He didn’t want an announcement made. He intended to keep the news and the reality a secret until the baby was born. And if he had his way, was his parting shot as he stormed out of the room, forever. Later, when Jensen had calmed down, Jared patiently informed him that the announcement party was an expected event, not something either of them could avoid. It was going to happen. Now who did Jensen want to invite? Did he want to tell his parents ahead of time, or wait until the formal announcement at the party? It had been extremely hard for Jared to keep the news from his family so far, but he had waited for the party, because such wonderful news deserved a party. His family--their families--were going to be overjoyed, and wasn’t it wonderful for the two of them to be bringing so much happiness to their families?

Jensen refused to invite anyone. He refused to attend himself, but Jared made clear that wasn’t an option. He tried to talk Jensen into inviting his whole family and his friends to share the wonderful news, but Jensen was adamant. Jared was equally insistent that Jensen could not avoid being there--not even nausea and sickness could excuse him. He had to attend.

They argued long past Jensen’s early bedtime, and Jared could see the fatigue beneath Jensen’s stubborn determination. But this was important, and Jared wouldn’t compromise this time. Finally, Jensen won as much as Jared was willing to concede. Jared’s friends and family would all be at the party to celebrate. Jared was to call and inform Jensen’s parents, and leave up to them how widely they shared the news. Jensen would appear at the party, but Jared would not insist he converse with anyone present. Most importantly to Jensen, nobody was allowed to touch him, and there would be no cameras or cell phones allowed. Jared thought Jensen was being incredibly silly, but on those terms, Jensen agreed without further fuss to appear at the party, to be there when the announcement was made, to be seen. Jared couldn’t budge him beyond that, but he’d work on it for the future. Because his parents would of course want to see Jensen often, to track the course of the pregnancy, to share the anticipation and the preparation for the arrival of their new grandchild. Jared was sure the Ackles would feel the same way, but he had to let Jensen handle his family the way he wished.


It was a giddy afternoon, and Marta had once more surpassed her usual genius with the party food. Everyone suspected the reason for the party, but Jared was being cagey, even while the news was easily read in his dimples and blinding smile. Jensen was nowhere to be seen, but Jared had his promise, and exactly on the stroke of 2:00, the babble of conversation subsided and, in an eerie throwback to their previous party, Jensen stood on the stair landing, dressed in the clothing he had worn when he left the Ceiver Home, and had worn only once since then. He met no one’s gaze; his stare was unfocused and aimed above the heads of everyone there. Jared crossed the room and climbed to stand at Jensen’s side, one arm about his waist as he faced the people assembled in their house and told them he and Jensen were expecting a child. A cheer went up, and glasses were raised, toasts were given. Jared’s smile was blinding, and he hugged Jensen to him, kissed his cheek.

Jensen stood unmoved and unmoving. When Jared dropped his arm, he stepped away toward the second floor, leaving the party behind. “Jensen?“ He stopped, but he didn’t turn, didn’t meet Jared’s eyes. “Stay? Please? This is for you, too. For us, for the baby.” He shook his head and left Jared alone on the landing. Jared waited until he heard the bedroom door close before he shook off the wistful feeling and turned to rejoin the celebration.

Jensen slipped out of the ceiver’s clothing and hung it in the guest room closet. He hadn’t wanted it in the closet he shared with Jared, so it was here, with a few of Jensen’s own things he hadn’t moved over yet. He put on the jeans and tee he’d worn in here to change, and was lacing up his sneakers when the door opened and one of Jared’s cousins smiled tipsily at him.

“Oh, excuse me!” she grinned. “I was looking for the little girls’ room!” He stood and pointed toward the en suite, but her gaze fastened on him, and she obviously didn’t care about the bathroom. She greedily took in every detail as she came closer, her gaze on his crotch and his belly. Her hand went out to pat at his stomach. “I remember what those early months are like. Whoopsing every time you even smell food, right?” He ducked away and around her, not bothering to answer. She might think him rude, and report his behavior to Jared; he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be pawed, he wouldn’t be gawked at, and he would not stand still and listen to baby talk. He left her and darted down the hall to the door at the end, slipped through and latched it behind him.

He had ordered the lockset, had it delivered and installed it himself. He hadn’t known why at the time, but he had felt the need of a place where he could have a locked door between him and the rest of the world. He was glad now he’d listened to that impulse. He leaned against the locked door and heard the cousin in the hall, calling for him. Let her. Let the whole swarm of them come looking. He wouldn’t dance to their tune. Let Jared entertain them--they were his friends and family, nothing to do with Jensen. He let his knees buckle, and sat down on the floor, his back against the door. His grandmother’s quilt spilled out of a box and he reached for it, wrapping it around himself. He lay down on the carpet, the murmur of the crowd below a distant, muted thing. Eventually he fell asleep.

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