Title: Not a Word
Rating: Hard R for language and some naughty business
Length: 3,130 words
Summary: When Jared can’t speak, he and Jensen have to figure out new ways to communicate.
Disclaimer: I’ve tried, people. They do what they want, okay? The story below is just a suggestion.
Author’s Note: Written for my day of Cliche Week in the rps_advent community. My prompt was ‘Loss of One of the Senses.’
“You have got to be shitting me.” Jensen looked from Eric to Jared and back again.
Jared shook his head vigorously, gestured at his throat again as Eric re-explained that the doctor had sent a note with Jared saying his hoarseness the day before was laryngitis and it was progressing. And that Jared shouldn't talk.
“Not at all?” Jensen lifted both eyebrows, questioning.
Jared shook his head once more, a little sadly, eyes wide.
Jensen put his hand to his mouth and turned his back to Jared, shoulders shaking almost immediately. He nearly got whiplash when Jared’s huge hand grabbed and spun him around. A huge guffaw of laughter flew out of his mouth, which he quickly covered again.
“You know this is funny, right? And incredibly ironic?”
Jared frowned, fingers digging into Jensen’s shoulder. His eyebrows drew into a straight line even as his mouth turned down almost comically. Eric told them they would suspend filming for two days or until the doctor cleared Jared. He walked off, muttering about accident- and illness-prone actors and being way behind schedule.
“Oh, your Sam bitchface is not going to save you now, Padalecki. This is damn funny and you know it.” Jensen was very close to chortling with glee.
Jared crossed his arms on his chest, tried to talk and failed utterly, mouth opening and closing with no sound. He clutched his throat in alarm. It seemed Jared was not only not allowed to talk, but he actually couldn't.
The amusement dropped from Jensen's face. "Wait, you can't talk? You're not able?"
Jared shrugged his shoulders, hands palm up. He mouthed the words, Looks that way.
"Does it hurt?"
Jared waved his hand in the air, giving the so-so gesture and Jensen nodded. He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. This was less funny now and more weird. He wasn’t used to being able to get many words in edgewise with Jared and now Jared was just looking at him, expectantly.
"Do you...want to get out of here? Grab some food?" Jensen jerked his thumb toward the parking lot and Jared nodded enthusiastically. It was dinnertime and Jensen had never known Jared to miss a meal. He didn't figure he was going to start now, mute or not.
Halfway through dinner, Jared was still pouting because Jensen had ordered him light beer, telling the waitress that Jared was trying to watch his boyish figure. It turned out that Jared's middle finger was working just fine. At the murderous look in Jared's usually playful eyes, Jensen had refrained from ordering Jared the steamed chicken and vegetables plate, and let Jared jab at the full rack of ribs and several enormous side dishes on the menu. They were eating now and Jensen was running out of yes or no questions to ask Jared and really starting to think this wasn't funny at all. Jared, for his part, was listening intently when Jensen spoke, nodding along. The undivided attention was starting to get to Jensen and he couldn't even finish his steak.
They left the restaurant and looked at each other over the roof of Jensen’s car. Jensen couldn't remember the last time it had seemed so quiet. He could hear everything around them, from the wind in the trees, the buzzing of the streetlamp overhead, the whoosh of cars going by on damp asphalt. It had not occurred to Jensen until just now how much Jared filled his ears with sound, with his whooping and laughing and talktalktalking.
He missed it.
"Uh...do you want me to take you home?"
Jared nodded his head and Jensen tried to ignore the snap of disappointment in his chest. Being around Jared was never something he wanted to end, much less this early. Nodding, Jensen pulled his car door open and then jerked his eyes back to Jared's when he tapped the top of the car. Jared was pointing at Jensen insistently and mouthing something.
Jensen pointed at himself. "What about me?"
Head shaking, Jared pointed again and mouthed two words that made Jensen's stomach knot. Your house.
"Oh. Yeah, sure, man. Hop in."
Jared was in the car and seated before Jensen managed to bend his legs and slide in himself. It's not like it was unheard of or even unusual for Jared to come over to his house, but something felt different tonight aside from the obvious of Jared having to mime his way through the evening. There was this look he caught in Jared's eyes a couple times over dinner that made Jensen pray for looser-fitting pants.
They drove to Jensen's apartment in silence as Jensen couldn't dig his way out of his own head long enough to make even one-sided small talk. Once inside, Jensen snagged a few cold beers from his fridge and handed one to Jared. He hesitated. "Should I be letting you drink beer or do you need hot tea or something?" Jensen mentally checked his pantry, thinking there just might be a half-used box of tea bags in there somewhere.
Jared pursed his lips and took the beer, head shaking.
"Alright, dude. Just checking."
They sat down on the couch as Jensen absently flipped through the channels and Jared drained his beer in close to two swallows. When he came back with two more a few minutes later, Jensen said, “What’re you doing, dude? Trying to get me drunk?”
Jared shrugged, completely noncommittal, and held the beer out. Jensen watched as a cold drop of condensation ran off and splotched on his jeans, eyes scanning Jared’s for some kind of answer to his question. Because things felt...odd. Like, if he touched Jared right now, he’d get a static shock. Jensen resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his own inane thoughts and snagged the beer, draining the one already in his hand.
A few beers later, Jensen was feeling pleasantly warm and buzzed all over, skin tingling. His eyes felt heavy, the remote lying loosely in his hand as he and Jared sort of watched the Canucks beat the Flames.
Jensen didn’t know he had fallen asleep until he felt a warm weight on his wrist, then a gentle shake. He blinked, wiping his eyes, drugged by sleep and hops. The hand on his wrist tightened once and then released and he finally looked over.
And there was Jared, not looking sleepy in the least. Nor even really drunk.
“Fucking hell, you have the tolerance of a wildebeest or something. Padalecki.”
Jared snorted, but couldn’t quite manage a laugh. Regardless, the smile and the gleam of the light from the TV on his eyes and face revealed his amusement just as well. Jared curved his arms in and lifted his shoulders, trying for some kind of strongman pose.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a big boy.” Jensen felt his cheeks heat a little at his offhand comment and tried to hide it by focusing on his watch. “’m too buzzed to drive you home yet, man. You okay sticking around a bit? I promise not to punk out on you again.”
Jared nodded, still smiling.
There was this flutter low in Jensen’s belly that really liked that smile. A lot. Jensen glanced at the TV, saw that the channel was off the air. It was getting late, he guessed.
“What d’you wanna do?”
When Jared didn’t answer, Jensen tilted his head for a moment, studying him, and then shook it in realization. “God, it’s so fucked up that you can’t talk, Jared. I’m not...I’m not used to it. I keep expecting you to launch into some soliloquy on the awesome chili fries at some bar in San Antone and...you don’t.”
Jensen drank a swallow of lukewarm beer from the bottle by him, then grimaced at the bitter taste. Jared tugged on his sleeve, pulling him back into the moment.
Jared pointed at Jensen and then at his own mouth, nodding.
“You want to eat me?” Jensen then wondered if dying of embarrassment over five little words was truly possible. Because he was so very close. He stammered to cover his blunder as Jared shook with silent laughter.
Jared held up a finger to stop Jensen and tried again. He pointed at Jensen and then bent his hand, touching fingers to thumb repeatedly. It hit Jensen finally.
“Ohhhhh. You want me to talk?” Jensen furrowed his brow. “What am I doing now?”
Jared made a rolling gesture with his hands, indicating he wanted more and honestly, Jensen was still coming down off the mortification of asking if Jared wanted to have him for a snack. This was maybe a little more than he could handle. He played it dumb to see if Jared might let it drop.
“I don’t know what to talk - what do you want me to -“ For an actor, Jensen hated the spotlight. And even with just Jared sitting there staring at him, he felt like he was sweating under a thousand watt bulb with a million eyes watching his every move. It was nervewracking and why couldn’t he have been the one to lose his voice? Everyone was used to Jared yammering along while Jensen nodded. It was just...easier.
Face drawn in mild frustration, Jared stood up and looked around. His eyes lit on the bookshelf across the room and a smile split his face. Jensen watched him cross to the shelf and drag his fingers along the book spines until he found the leather bound one that Jensen had been secretly willing him to forget about or not notice or just not bring over and put in Jensen’s lap. Unfortunately, Jared did not cooperate with Jensen’s attempt at mind control and now Jensen had a lapful of family photographs and he was definitely starting to sweat.
Jared dropped to the couch again, but this time much closer and Jensen was starting to think this night was some kind of hallucination. Maybe he had hit his head onset and was actually in a hospital right now imagining all this. Because Jared slung his arm up on the couch behind Jensen and nudged in closer and the incredible heat of him and the musky sweet smell of Jared so very close was wreaking absolute havoc on Jensen’s willpower.
Gesturing with one of his unexpectedly graceful hands at the album, Jared actually bumped into Jensen’s hip. Where Jensen expected Jared to retract, in reality he pressed a little harder, sending waves of warmth through Jensen.
And now, with 200 pounds of Jared close enough that Jensen could almost taste his aftershave, Jensen was supposed to talk?
Jared flipped the album open and pointed at a picture of the front of Jensen’s house, some kind of sign hanging on it. Then he waited. Jensen cleared his throat and finally figured out that Jared was not letting this go. He launched into the story of the day he first came back to Richardson after being on Days and all about the banner his Mom had hung on the front porch and the huge barbecue they had to celebrate. He could feel Jared laughing, the shaking transferring to him through their hip-to-hip connection.
By the time Jensen finished the tale of his little sister dragging him to her middle school so all of her little friends could have pictures taken with a real honest-to-god soap star, he had lost track of time and Jared was bent over, hand slapping his knee as he tried to laugh, but really just gasped. When he sat back up, his cheeks were flushed red, fingers covering his mouth. He rolled his other hand, indicating Jensen should keep going.
Jensen stood up to get another beer, not because he needed to be any more drunk at this point, but because sitting right next to Jared, regaling him with tales of his childhood and family and early career was completely overloading him. His throat was dry, his face was hot and yeah, his cock was hard. He had moved quickly away, hoping for all he was worth that Jared had not noticed.
When he returned to the living room, Jensen choked on the beer in his mouth, some of it dribbling down his chin. Jared was sprawled out full-length on the couch, Jensen’s photo album standing up on his stomach as he slowly turned pages. His shirt was rucked up below the book, revealing several inches of golden skin as well as the waistband of his boxers. Jared’s eyes lifted to Jensen’s over the top of the book at that exact moment, and there was something positively molten there. It made Jensen pause mid-step, and his heart thudded to somewhere in his stomach, still beating wildly.
What in fuck was going on here?
Jared sat up, hiding that tantalizing bit of skin as he waved Jensen over. He jabbed at a somewhat recent picture of Jensen, clearly taken in the summer. Jensen grinned, the memory flooding back. He was standing on the back porch of his parents’ house, laughing, hand actually clutching his bare stomach, he was laughing so hard. He had on just his swim trunks, hair still wet from the pool that shimmered cool blue behind him. Summer brown freckles stood out on his shoulders, scattered on his face.
He started talking again, smooth and easy. Jensen was halfway through the story of the new pool he bought his parents and how he had shoved his older brother in fully clothed just before the picture was taken when he realized several things all at once:
1. He had slipped all the way back into his Texas drawl, words rolling from his tongue, unhurried and smooth.
2. Jared was not looking at the picture in the album anymore.
3. Jared was, in fact, watching Jensen like he was a t-bone steak and Jared hadn’t eaten in....well, an hour or so. Boy got hungry fast.
4. Jared’s hand, his fucking gigantic hand, was actually on Jensen’s back.
5. No, on his back. As in, under his shirt. Touching his skin with rough fingers and smooth palm.
The words in Jensen’s throat died slowly and he turned to Jared.
“Uh, Jared? What’s going on?”
Jared tipped his head to the side slightly, pointed at his mouth and shrugged. Then, he pointed at Jensen’s mouth.
“Dude, I’ve been talking for hours. I’m about to lose my voice.” Jensen’s breaths grew shorter as Jared moved perceptibly closer, as his hand made a slow circle over Jensen’s ribs.
Jared shook his head no.
“No, what? No, you don’t want me to talk? You gotta make up your mind, Jar-“
Jensen never got a chance to finish his retort, because Jared’s mouth suddenly touched his. And Jared’s lips were even softer and warmer than he expected. Jensen took in a breath, the realization of what was happening hitting him sharply.
“Oh.” Jared’s signal made perfect sense now. He wanted to kiss Jensen. And yeah.
Jensen pointed at his own mouth again. He could get used to this.
Mouthing the words carefully, silently, gaze alternating between Jensen’s eyes and his mouth, Jared answered: You sure?
And Jensen still had his voice, but he didn’t need any fucking words to show Jared he passed sure about three exits back. Jensen had wanted this, wanted Jared for far too long to question the whys and wherefores of tonight.
He pushed Jared back with both hands on his chest, until Jared’s back hit the armrest of the couch. Jared’s eyes widened, then tipped slowly up at the corners as he smiled. He pulled his legs back up on the couch and Jensen slid his knee between Jared’s legs, pressing up against his crotch. Jared’s mouth opened wordlessly, his fingers curled into the groove of Jensen’s spine.
Jensen kissed him then and if Jared had been wondering if Jensen was actually sure, any trace of doubt should have been erased when Jensen’s tongue chased Jared’s, slip-sliding over it. They kissed until Jensen was dizzy with it, thoughts spinning and heartbeat racing. He pushed away from Jared’s mouth once, but then went back for a quick kiss, then another. One on Jared’s jaw, his neck, along the muscle that ran in a tight curve from shoulder to neck. He wanted to taste every last inch of Jared, which he rightly figured might take awhile.
And then Jensen stopped. He sat up, tried to slow his breathing, to calm down. Jared’s hands, now grasping Jensen’s hips and tugging him closer, tightened.
His face looked scared, worried even. Jensen smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, but he was so keyed up, it was hard to say how it came off.
Jared pulled himself up into more of a sitting position, Jensen’s knees straddling his hips now. He frowned.
“God, I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this, but I don’t think...I don’t think we should go any further.” Jared’s mouth flew open and Jensen hurried to continue. “Tonight, I mean. Not tonight.”
Jared looked around, grabbed an empty beer bottle and waved it back and forth.
“No, it’s not the alcohol. I’d fuck you sober or trashed, Jared. Trust me.”
And that was a tiny bit blunter than Jensen had been going for. He could almost feel his skin bruise under Jared’s hands.
“It’s just that...” Jensen rubbed the edge of Jared’s shirt between his fingers, the worn cotton soft and faded.
Jared looked up plaintively, wetting his lips repeatedly.
Jensen leaned forward, bracing himself on Jared’s chest so he could bring his mouth down close to Jared’s ear. He exhaled once, felt Jared convulse under him.
“Jared. It’s just this. I fully intend to make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name, dude. And I want to hear it.”
Jensen stayed where he was for another few seconds, heard a choked little sound from Jared. And then there were hands on his pants and fingers moving nimbly over his belt buckle and jeans and the fabric was being shoved out of the way and before he knew it, Jared had Jensen’s cock in hand, as well as Jensen’s undivided attention.
He sat up, met Jared’s gaze, laughed when Jared’s eyebrow hooked high. “You make an excellent point, Jared.”
If Jared had ever hoped that Jensen would call out his name when he came, would breath it out over and over like a mantra while his hand stroked hard cock, well, he got his wish that night.
And Jensen was sure that if Jared did have that now-fulfilled fantasy, he would hear all about it.
In about two days.
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