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om_mainJensen's drinking at the party finally catches up to him and Shaun helps a very drunk Jensen back to their room. There is talking and cuddles and Jensen finally admits that he isn't okay with being kicked out.
Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse.
Jensen was suddenly not feeling so good. The room was spinning and so was his stomach (seemingly in the opposite direction) and he had a headache. When had the party become so loud? He dropped down into the first empty chair he could find and leaned forward, dropping his head between his knees because that’s what you were supposed to do when you were dizzy, right? Nooope. No good. He sat up, slumping into his seat, and tilted his head back, neck cradled on the top rail of the chair back. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t stop the room from spinning. He opened them again and his fingers slipped under his glasses, rubbing at them as he let out a slow breath.
Lights glowed a soft, white light against the black of the ceiling and Jensen stared up at them. That awesome feeling—warm and weightless and numb--that had come with being drunk was slowly dripping away. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it left him feeling sick and hollow. He didn’t like how that weightlessness turned heavy and how the feeling of letting go was less nice when you couldn’t control it. Maybe if had another drink, or danced again he’d feel better. He couldn’t bring himself to move though and he wasn’t sure if it was the spinning room that stopped him or because he just didn’t have it in him to try.
Shaun did another scan of the room, just like he'd been doing every ten minutes or so since Jensen and him had separated. He was acting different tonight, reckless in a way he wasn't normally, and with what he'd been through lately, Shaun wasn't willing to just brush it off as having fun.
When he spotted him across the room, twisting uncomfortably in a chair, and he knew he'd been right. He excused himself from his conversation and headed over, squatting next to his chair, close but giving him room. "Hey babe," he said softly, giving him a small smile. "How're you doing? You don't look so good."
Without lifting his head, Jensen turned it to look at Shaun. “That obvious, am I?” he asked, a slur dragging out the words. “I’ll be fine. M’totally fine. I just need to get moving or something.” He sat up and gripped the chair arms as the room tilted violently, face paling. Okay, so maybe he should move more slowly. “I might go outside. Get some air.”
"It's only because I know you so well," he teased back, the corner of his tugging up into a smile, though his heart wasn't in it. He stood quickly when Jensen looked unsteady, putting his hands out at the ready, then just offering them to him.
"Why don't we go to bed, babe?" he offered, his voice soft and coaxing, like talking to someone half-asleep. "You could take a shower, or we could open a window. Get into something more comfortable?"
Jensen wanted to refuse. Leaving the party meant going back to reality. But he was tired and he felt sick and Shaun’s offer sounded too good. “Okay,” he answered, taking Shaun’s hand. He stood, swaying on his feet, and tugged his tie even looser. “I don’t know where my jacket is.” He’d taken it off at some point in the evening and he couldn’t remember what had happened to it.
"It's fine," Shaun reassured, holding on to Jensen's elbows to steady him. "We'll find it in the morning."
He slowly walked Jensen out of the room, trying to go along the back wall so that maybe not many people would see him, even though he wouldn't be the only one with a hangover in the morning. Once they were outside the room, he let Jensen brace himself on him even more, and headed over to the elevator. "Are you alright, baby?" He combed his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, something that always made him feel better, when he used to be able to feel sick.
Jensen let out a humorless chuckle at the question. He didn’t even feel close to alright. The fingers in his hair felt good though and he rested his head on Shaun’s shoulder while they waited for the elevator, his eyes closed. “M’drunk,” he answered, the words a slurred mess. It seemed like a good answer. He was drunk and his level of drunkness was definitely related to his state of alright.
The elevator doors pinged open and Jensen opened his eyes, lifting his head. He turned to it and stumbled as he stepped away from Shaun to get into it, putting out a hand to catch himself. His hand missed by a good three inches and he started to pitch forward.
“Shit!” Shaun lunged forward, stepping forward quickly to catch him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against him. “Easy, babe.”
Keeping an arm wrapped firmly around his waist, he pressed the button for their floor, passing a hand over Jensen’s neck in a way he hoped was soothing.
Apparently moving elevator was not a great thing when the floor already felt like it was moving. Jensen rested his head on Shaun’s shoulder again and closed his eyes. It didn’t help; everything still felt like it was spinning. His fingers closed around the front of Shaun’s jacket and he exhaled slowly. “Don’t feel good,” he mumbled. “Can we sit down?”
Shaun thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, looking regretful even as he did. "Not yet, babe. Just a minute, and then we can sit." The elevator would be there in moments, and the act of sitting and standing back up would probably be harder than just standing.
Fortunately, the doors opened up soon, and he supported Jensen's weight with one arm as he fished their keys from his pocket with the other. Once they were in, he helped sit him on the edge of the bed, rubbing his back a little. "There you go, babe."
“Thanks.” Jensen felt better here in the dark, cool room. His head was spinning less and that rolling feeling of nausea didn’t seem as strong. Maybe all he really had needed was to step out of the party for a little bit.
And then Jensen’s insides decided they wanted to crawl out of his throat. He paled suddenly and rocketed to his feet, quickly stumbling his way to the bathroom. The door was shoved open, left open behind him, and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. Lifting the lid, he leaned over and lost the entire contents of his stomach.
"Oh, fuck, Jay," Shaun said, hurrying in after him. He knelt down next to him and rubbed his back, trying to help him feel less nauseous. "Just get it out, you'll feel better afterwards, babe."
Once he seemed to have gotten through the worst of it, he flushed the toilet and grabbed a washcloth, wetting and ringing it out before pressing it to the back of Jensen's neck. "There, is that any better?"
Jensen that out a shaky exhale and the walls of the bathroom trembled with it. His shoulders started to shake, slowly at first and then harder as he was overcome with sobs. He hunched forward, arms wrapped around himself, hands clenched so tight on the sleeves of his shirt that his knuckles were white. “She was the only person who ever loved me,” he choked out. “She took care of me and now I won’t be able to be there for her.”
Shaun exhaled slowly in something that was almost relief. Ever since Jensen had been kicked out, after that first night...he'd seemed fine. Fine to the point where it was almost scary, chatting about costumes and parties and Christmas and seemingly anything and everything but the fact that he couldn't see his sister again, wouldn't see her until he was twenty-two. He'd been waiting for the fallout, and apparently, it was going to happen now.
"I'm so sorry, Jay," he said quietly, slowly moving his hand so his arm wrapped around his shoulders. He kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back in soothing circles. "I wish I could fix it."
The gentle touches, the fucking kindness that he didn’t deserve, only had Jensen crying harder. It was as if now that he’d hit that breaking point he couldn’t stop and all of it, getting kicked out, being torn from his sister, and years of living under his dad’s hand, was pouring out at once. He drew in a rough breath, trying to stop it, trying to get a hold of himself, but it only became a hard, choked sound. No one could fix this. He was a fuck-up and a loser and his dad may have kicked him out, but it was all his fucking fault.
Jensen leaned into the arm around him, a hand going out to grip Shaun tight by the front of his shirt. He cried until the sobs slowed, quieted, and then stopped. Distantly, he knew he should be embarrassed, fucking mortified, but he was too tired to care. His chest ached and he felt hollow, like someone had scooped out everything inside of him like some kind of fucking macabre pumpkin. His head dropped, forehead on Shaun’s shoulder, and he drew in a breath that hitched, then exhaled slow and shakily.
Shaun dropped back onto his ass, sitting awkwardly on the floor and bringing Jensen with him, so that he was pulled in against his chest. "There you go," he said softly, wiping Jensen's cheeks with the palm of his hand and kissing his forehead. "It's okay, it's okay." Which, no, it really wasn't. He had a feeling things wouldn't really be okay for a long time, but maybe things could be okay here, for just a little bit.
"Do you want some water, babe?" he asked, smoothing his fingers through his hair.
Jensen shook his head a little. “In a minute,” he answered, voice muffled. He wasn’t ready to move just yet. Closing his eyes, he breathed Shaun in, his soap and his sweat and his skin, the comforting smell that was all him. His fingers closed tighter around Shaun’s shirt.
“I hate him,” Jensen said quietly. “I hate him so fucking much I feel like I’m going to fucking choke on it.”
"I know, I know you do." He held Jensen tighter, and he closed his eyes and shifted his breathing, trying to keep his anger towards his dad from letting something in his powers slip. The last fucking thing Jensen needed tonight was Shaun inadvertently getting him sick.
When he had better control, he slowly threaded is fingers through Jensen's short hair, making small, soothing sounds. "I'm so sorry, baby. I hate him too. You deserve so much better than him."
It helped hearing that. Even if Jensen wasn’t entirely convinced it was true, it was nice to be told he was worth something. He wet his dry lips and then swallowed, throat sore and swollen from crying. He wanted to tell Shaun that he did have better, that he had him, but he’d already bared too much tonight and he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he just lifted his head to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.
Then, after a few minutes more of letting himself just be held, Jensen slowly untangled himself from Shaun. “I need to brush my teeth.”
"Okay." Shaun helped him stand and got his toothbrush ready for him. It might be too much, but drunk people's hand-eye coordination wasn't exactly known for being good. While he brushed, he got the washcloth and wet it again, giving him a little smile after wringing it out. "Wash your face when you're done, you'll feel better."
“Thanks,” Jensen said with a thin smile, taking the washcloth and rubbing it over his face. It did feel good. He wrung it out after and hung it over the edge of the sink.
Still drunk, Jensen swayed on unsteady feet as he turned to the door and headed for it and their room. An arm wordlessly went around him, giving him support, and he leaned into Shaun, grateful for the help since the whole world still seemed tilted on its fucking axis. He was lowered onto his bed and he flopped back, hoping that would help. There was a tug at his feet and he started to make a sound of protest at Shaun helping him with his shoes, but it stopped when he found he just didn’t have the fucking energy to argue and he wasn’t even sure he could get them off on his own anyway.
This was the third time Shaun had taken care of him. Jensen wasn’t used to this--Having someone help him and caring about him. No one outside of Jacks ever gave a fuck if he was even breathing, but Shaun... Jesus, he put up with so fucking much from him and he still cared. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know what Shaun saw in him and he hoped to fucking God he didn’t get sick of this, sick of him. Because he was so fucking grateful for this, for Shaun, more than he would ever be able to say.
Shaun gave Jensen a little smile as he tucked him in his bed. He looked so fucking miserable like this, and he wished there was something he could do, something more useful than this. Jensen was safe, sure, but it was so unfair, that his father could this, just hurt Jensen for years and then keep hurting him, even after he'd gotten free. It felt like he was winning.
He sighed and ran a hand through Jensen's hair, frowning at how sweaty it was. "Want me to get Josh, babe?"
Jensen shook his head, “He’s at the party. I don’t want to ruin it for anyone else.”
“You gonna stay?” Jensen didn’t want to ask Shaun to stay, not after he’d already done so much for him, but he didn’t want him to leave either. He wanted him here in bed with him, so he could curl into him and forget everything. “M’sorry you had to bring me up here.” He felt awful about it. Lately it seemed like all he was doing was dragging Shaun into this stuff.
"Of course I 'm staying," he said, putting a careful hand on his arm, not wanting to do something to make him feel sicker. "You didn't ruin it for me babe. This is what boyfriends do. And even if it wasn't, I'd still stay. I want to take care of you."
How the fuck had he gotten so lucky?
Jensen took hold of Shaun’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss. He shifted over to make room for him, pulling the covers back. “Come on,” he said and he reached out, fingers hooking in the loops of his pants. “Take care of me.”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sad ghost of the smile as he shucked off his shirt and tie, leaving it in a pile with his shoes. Next went his belt, so he was dressed only in pants and a undershirt tank, and he crawled in behind him, wrapping himself against his boyfriend. "Is this alright?" he asked, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, hoping to ease some of his nausea.
“Mhm.” But after a moment, Jensen turned so he could curl into Shaun, his head tucked against his neck. He kissed him there and his hand slipped under his shirt where it rested on the flat of his stomach, fingers curling and uncurling slowly.
He let out a quiet, inebriated chuckle. “You smell good.”
Shaun chuckled and rested his chin against Jensen’s forehead, combing his fingers through his through his hair. “I took a shower before we went to the party.” Jensen didn’t smell great himself, but he didn’t give a fuck. There wasn’t anywhere he would rather be than right there.
Jensen hummed at the fingers in his hair. “I remember,” he said, grinning like they were talking about secret things. They’d showered together and it had been, as always, awesome. Best way to shower was to shower with Shaun if you asked him. “You always smell good though.”
"You're awful," Shaun said with a chuckle, and he kissed the top of his head, hardly able to believe Jensen was able to flirt, as wrecked as he was.
"And even when I just finished a parkour workout in the middle of summer? Because I'm pretty sure I would have to disagree with you there, sweetheart." He didn't call him pet names often, nothing but Jay, but he figured he could make an exception.
Jensen snickered into Shaun’s neck, “Even then. I mean, I’d still make out with you. You can disagree all you want, but I’m right because I’m right and I smell you all the time.” He kissed his neck and then snickered again and tilted his head to look up at his boyfriend, grinning. “You called me sweetheart. You liiiike me. You like me like me.”
Shaun actually blushed- he'd hoped that Jensen wouldn't catch him with the pet name while he was this drunk. He should have known better.
"What gave me away?" he asked, rolling his eyes, but his voice was all fondness. "Was it when I asked if we should start dating, or the fact that you've been getting it regular for half a year?"
Jensen tucked his head back into Shaun’s neck as he answered, “The first. Anyone can have sex, but dating means relationship which means liking liking someone. S’not everyone who is gonna wanna be boyfriends. Or be my boyfriend.”
“I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” He was tired and talking was taking a surprisingly lot out of him.
"Okay, babe," he said, kissing his forehead fondly and stroking his hair; he must be exhausted. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Jensen’s answering sleepy smile was fond and trusting, “I know.” He snuggled in closer, tucking himself in against Shaun. “Night,” he murmured and was asleep almost instantly.
Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse.
Jensen was suddenly not feeling so good. The room was spinning and so was his stomach (seemingly in the opposite direction) and he had a headache. When had the party become so loud? He dropped down into the first empty chair he could find and leaned forward, dropping his head between his knees because that’s what you were supposed to do when you were dizzy, right? Nooope. No good. He sat up, slumping into his seat, and tilted his head back, neck cradled on the top rail of the chair back. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t stop the room from spinning. He opened them again and his fingers slipped under his glasses, rubbing at them as he let out a slow breath.
Lights glowed a soft, white light against the black of the ceiling and Jensen stared up at them. That awesome feeling—warm and weightless and numb--that had come with being drunk was slowly dripping away. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it left him feeling sick and hollow. He didn’t like how that weightlessness turned heavy and how the feeling of letting go was less nice when you couldn’t control it. Maybe if had another drink, or danced again he’d feel better. He couldn’t bring himself to move though and he wasn’t sure if it was the spinning room that stopped him or because he just didn’t have it in him to try.
Shaun did another scan of the room, just like he'd been doing every ten minutes or so since Jensen and him had separated. He was acting different tonight, reckless in a way he wasn't normally, and with what he'd been through lately, Shaun wasn't willing to just brush it off as having fun.
When he spotted him across the room, twisting uncomfortably in a chair, and he knew he'd been right. He excused himself from his conversation and headed over, squatting next to his chair, close but giving him room. "Hey babe," he said softly, giving him a small smile. "How're you doing? You don't look so good."
Without lifting his head, Jensen turned it to look at Shaun. “That obvious, am I?” he asked, a slur dragging out the words. “I’ll be fine. M’totally fine. I just need to get moving or something.” He sat up and gripped the chair arms as the room tilted violently, face paling. Okay, so maybe he should move more slowly. “I might go outside. Get some air.”
"It's only because I know you so well," he teased back, the corner of his tugging up into a smile, though his heart wasn't in it. He stood quickly when Jensen looked unsteady, putting his hands out at the ready, then just offering them to him.
"Why don't we go to bed, babe?" he offered, his voice soft and coaxing, like talking to someone half-asleep. "You could take a shower, or we could open a window. Get into something more comfortable?"
Jensen wanted to refuse. Leaving the party meant going back to reality. But he was tired and he felt sick and Shaun’s offer sounded too good. “Okay,” he answered, taking Shaun’s hand. He stood, swaying on his feet, and tugged his tie even looser. “I don’t know where my jacket is.” He’d taken it off at some point in the evening and he couldn’t remember what had happened to it.
"It's fine," Shaun reassured, holding on to Jensen's elbows to steady him. "We'll find it in the morning."
He slowly walked Jensen out of the room, trying to go along the back wall so that maybe not many people would see him, even though he wouldn't be the only one with a hangover in the morning. Once they were outside the room, he let Jensen brace himself on him even more, and headed over to the elevator. "Are you alright, baby?" He combed his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, something that always made him feel better, when he used to be able to feel sick.
Jensen let out a humorless chuckle at the question. He didn’t even feel close to alright. The fingers in his hair felt good though and he rested his head on Shaun’s shoulder while they waited for the elevator, his eyes closed. “M’drunk,” he answered, the words a slurred mess. It seemed like a good answer. He was drunk and his level of drunkness was definitely related to his state of alright.
The elevator doors pinged open and Jensen opened his eyes, lifting his head. He turned to it and stumbled as he stepped away from Shaun to get into it, putting out a hand to catch himself. His hand missed by a good three inches and he started to pitch forward.
“Shit!” Shaun lunged forward, stepping forward quickly to catch him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against him. “Easy, babe.”
Keeping an arm wrapped firmly around his waist, he pressed the button for their floor, passing a hand over Jensen’s neck in a way he hoped was soothing.
Apparently moving elevator was not a great thing when the floor already felt like it was moving. Jensen rested his head on Shaun’s shoulder again and closed his eyes. It didn’t help; everything still felt like it was spinning. His fingers closed around the front of Shaun’s jacket and he exhaled slowly. “Don’t feel good,” he mumbled. “Can we sit down?”
Shaun thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, looking regretful even as he did. "Not yet, babe. Just a minute, and then we can sit." The elevator would be there in moments, and the act of sitting and standing back up would probably be harder than just standing.
Fortunately, the doors opened up soon, and he supported Jensen's weight with one arm as he fished their keys from his pocket with the other. Once they were in, he helped sit him on the edge of the bed, rubbing his back a little. "There you go, babe."
“Thanks.” Jensen felt better here in the dark, cool room. His head was spinning less and that rolling feeling of nausea didn’t seem as strong. Maybe all he really had needed was to step out of the party for a little bit.
And then Jensen’s insides decided they wanted to crawl out of his throat. He paled suddenly and rocketed to his feet, quickly stumbling his way to the bathroom. The door was shoved open, left open behind him, and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. Lifting the lid, he leaned over and lost the entire contents of his stomach.
"Oh, fuck, Jay," Shaun said, hurrying in after him. He knelt down next to him and rubbed his back, trying to help him feel less nauseous. "Just get it out, you'll feel better afterwards, babe."
Once he seemed to have gotten through the worst of it, he flushed the toilet and grabbed a washcloth, wetting and ringing it out before pressing it to the back of Jensen's neck. "There, is that any better?"
Jensen that out a shaky exhale and the walls of the bathroom trembled with it. His shoulders started to shake, slowly at first and then harder as he was overcome with sobs. He hunched forward, arms wrapped around himself, hands clenched so tight on the sleeves of his shirt that his knuckles were white. “She was the only person who ever loved me,” he choked out. “She took care of me and now I won’t be able to be there for her.”
Shaun exhaled slowly in something that was almost relief. Ever since Jensen had been kicked out, after that first night...he'd seemed fine. Fine to the point where it was almost scary, chatting about costumes and parties and Christmas and seemingly anything and everything but the fact that he couldn't see his sister again, wouldn't see her until he was twenty-two. He'd been waiting for the fallout, and apparently, it was going to happen now.
"I'm so sorry, Jay," he said quietly, slowly moving his hand so his arm wrapped around his shoulders. He kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back in soothing circles. "I wish I could fix it."
The gentle touches, the fucking kindness that he didn’t deserve, only had Jensen crying harder. It was as if now that he’d hit that breaking point he couldn’t stop and all of it, getting kicked out, being torn from his sister, and years of living under his dad’s hand, was pouring out at once. He drew in a rough breath, trying to stop it, trying to get a hold of himself, but it only became a hard, choked sound. No one could fix this. He was a fuck-up and a loser and his dad may have kicked him out, but it was all his fucking fault.
Jensen leaned into the arm around him, a hand going out to grip Shaun tight by the front of his shirt. He cried until the sobs slowed, quieted, and then stopped. Distantly, he knew he should be embarrassed, fucking mortified, but he was too tired to care. His chest ached and he felt hollow, like someone had scooped out everything inside of him like some kind of fucking macabre pumpkin. His head dropped, forehead on Shaun’s shoulder, and he drew in a breath that hitched, then exhaled slow and shakily.
Shaun dropped back onto his ass, sitting awkwardly on the floor and bringing Jensen with him, so that he was pulled in against his chest. "There you go," he said softly, wiping Jensen's cheeks with the palm of his hand and kissing his forehead. "It's okay, it's okay." Which, no, it really wasn't. He had a feeling things wouldn't really be okay for a long time, but maybe things could be okay here, for just a little bit.
"Do you want some water, babe?" he asked, smoothing his fingers through his hair.
Jensen shook his head a little. “In a minute,” he answered, voice muffled. He wasn’t ready to move just yet. Closing his eyes, he breathed Shaun in, his soap and his sweat and his skin, the comforting smell that was all him. His fingers closed tighter around Shaun’s shirt.
“I hate him,” Jensen said quietly. “I hate him so fucking much I feel like I’m going to fucking choke on it.”
"I know, I know you do." He held Jensen tighter, and he closed his eyes and shifted his breathing, trying to keep his anger towards his dad from letting something in his powers slip. The last fucking thing Jensen needed tonight was Shaun inadvertently getting him sick.
When he had better control, he slowly threaded is fingers through Jensen's short hair, making small, soothing sounds. "I'm so sorry, baby. I hate him too. You deserve so much better than him."
It helped hearing that. Even if Jensen wasn’t entirely convinced it was true, it was nice to be told he was worth something. He wet his dry lips and then swallowed, throat sore and swollen from crying. He wanted to tell Shaun that he did have better, that he had him, but he’d already bared too much tonight and he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he just lifted his head to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.
Then, after a few minutes more of letting himself just be held, Jensen slowly untangled himself from Shaun. “I need to brush my teeth.”
"Okay." Shaun helped him stand and got his toothbrush ready for him. It might be too much, but drunk people's hand-eye coordination wasn't exactly known for being good. While he brushed, he got the washcloth and wet it again, giving him a little smile after wringing it out. "Wash your face when you're done, you'll feel better."
“Thanks,” Jensen said with a thin smile, taking the washcloth and rubbing it over his face. It did feel good. He wrung it out after and hung it over the edge of the sink.
Still drunk, Jensen swayed on unsteady feet as he turned to the door and headed for it and their room. An arm wordlessly went around him, giving him support, and he leaned into Shaun, grateful for the help since the whole world still seemed tilted on its fucking axis. He was lowered onto his bed and he flopped back, hoping that would help. There was a tug at his feet and he started to make a sound of protest at Shaun helping him with his shoes, but it stopped when he found he just didn’t have the fucking energy to argue and he wasn’t even sure he could get them off on his own anyway.
This was the third time Shaun had taken care of him. Jensen wasn’t used to this--Having someone help him and caring about him. No one outside of Jacks ever gave a fuck if he was even breathing, but Shaun... Jesus, he put up with so fucking much from him and he still cared. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know what Shaun saw in him and he hoped to fucking God he didn’t get sick of this, sick of him. Because he was so fucking grateful for this, for Shaun, more than he would ever be able to say.
Shaun gave Jensen a little smile as he tucked him in his bed. He looked so fucking miserable like this, and he wished there was something he could do, something more useful than this. Jensen was safe, sure, but it was so unfair, that his father could this, just hurt Jensen for years and then keep hurting him, even after he'd gotten free. It felt like he was winning.
He sighed and ran a hand through Jensen's hair, frowning at how sweaty it was. "Want me to get Josh, babe?"
Jensen shook his head, “He’s at the party. I don’t want to ruin it for anyone else.”
“You gonna stay?” Jensen didn’t want to ask Shaun to stay, not after he’d already done so much for him, but he didn’t want him to leave either. He wanted him here in bed with him, so he could curl into him and forget everything. “M’sorry you had to bring me up here.” He felt awful about it. Lately it seemed like all he was doing was dragging Shaun into this stuff.
"Of course I 'm staying," he said, putting a careful hand on his arm, not wanting to do something to make him feel sicker. "You didn't ruin it for me babe. This is what boyfriends do. And even if it wasn't, I'd still stay. I want to take care of you."
How the fuck had he gotten so lucky?
Jensen took hold of Shaun’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss. He shifted over to make room for him, pulling the covers back. “Come on,” he said and he reached out, fingers hooking in the loops of his pants. “Take care of me.”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sad ghost of the smile as he shucked off his shirt and tie, leaving it in a pile with his shoes. Next went his belt, so he was dressed only in pants and a undershirt tank, and he crawled in behind him, wrapping himself against his boyfriend. "Is this alright?" he asked, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, hoping to ease some of his nausea.
“Mhm.” But after a moment, Jensen turned so he could curl into Shaun, his head tucked against his neck. He kissed him there and his hand slipped under his shirt where it rested on the flat of his stomach, fingers curling and uncurling slowly.
He let out a quiet, inebriated chuckle. “You smell good.”
Shaun chuckled and rested his chin against Jensen’s forehead, combing his fingers through his through his hair. “I took a shower before we went to the party.” Jensen didn’t smell great himself, but he didn’t give a fuck. There wasn’t anywhere he would rather be than right there.
Jensen hummed at the fingers in his hair. “I remember,” he said, grinning like they were talking about secret things. They’d showered together and it had been, as always, awesome. Best way to shower was to shower with Shaun if you asked him. “You always smell good though.”
"You're awful," Shaun said with a chuckle, and he kissed the top of his head, hardly able to believe Jensen was able to flirt, as wrecked as he was.
"And even when I just finished a parkour workout in the middle of summer? Because I'm pretty sure I would have to disagree with you there, sweetheart." He didn't call him pet names often, nothing but Jay, but he figured he could make an exception.
Jensen snickered into Shaun’s neck, “Even then. I mean, I’d still make out with you. You can disagree all you want, but I’m right because I’m right and I smell you all the time.” He kissed his neck and then snickered again and tilted his head to look up at his boyfriend, grinning. “You called me sweetheart. You liiiike me. You like me like me.”
Shaun actually blushed- he'd hoped that Jensen wouldn't catch him with the pet name while he was this drunk. He should have known better.
"What gave me away?" he asked, rolling his eyes, but his voice was all fondness. "Was it when I asked if we should start dating, or the fact that you've been getting it regular for half a year?"
Jensen tucked his head back into Shaun’s neck as he answered, “The first. Anyone can have sex, but dating means relationship which means liking liking someone. S’not everyone who is gonna wanna be boyfriends. Or be my boyfriend.”
“I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” He was tired and talking was taking a surprisingly lot out of him.
"Okay, babe," he said, kissing his forehead fondly and stroking his hair; he must be exhausted. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Jensen’s answering sleepy smile was fond and trusting, “I know.” He snuggled in closer, tucking himself in against Shaun. “Night,” he murmured and was asleep almost instantly.
