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moosesal (moosesal69)

fluffyllama (Llama)


Jared Padalecki/Christian Kane


Abuse of 2nd person POV.


How the boys met intertwined with them coming together now after a being separated by work. Inspired by the prompt "Having someone wonder where you are when you don't come home at night is a very old human need."

You’re leaning against a support post on the front porch when he finally pulls up the driveway. You watch him park and see him grin as the dogs run to meet him before he can even get out of his truck.

“God I’ve missed this,” you hear him say as he scratches your babies behind the ears. He doesn’t make any of his usual “fuck” or “ick” comments when Harley smears drool all over his pant leg. Just a soft “come on, let’s go inside” as he looks up at you and smiles.

You’ve missed this too. Missed him. Three months on tour. Before that you were in Europe shooting a movie. You only had four days together in between. Phone sex just isn’t the same.

You turn and head into the house right before he comes up the porch steps, knowing that if you start your reunion on the porch you might not make it inside before the clothes come off. And even though the house is in the middle of nowhere, your closest neighbors four miles away, you’re momma taught you better than to do such things on the front porch. The back yard, of course, is a different story.


It started something like this… shooting had ended early, Danneel was out of town, and Jensen was lonely. He called you to come over to hang out. You showed up with a couple pizzas in one hand, a case of longnecks in the other ready to play Madden or watch some crappy horror movie. He was slipping a DVD into the player when you walked through the door. “What are we watching?”

“Uh… Chris’s new show.”

That didn’t mean much. If it wasn’t on the CW or filmed in Vancouver, it wasn’t really on your radar.

Two discs, half the pizza, and several beers later, you knew the following: that Aldis was a better actor than his bit part on Supernatural had shown; that the tiny blonde chick on the show was awesome; and that Christian Kane wasn’t too bad an actor, but he needed a haircut.

You actually said that last bit out loud.

“What?” Jensen asked; he was looking at you like you’d lost your mind.

You pushed your bangs out of your eyes and said, “Chris. He needs a haircut.”

Jensen snorted and said, “That’s rich, coming from you.”


“Never mind.”


Fuck. His hands are everywhere -- on your cock, in your hair, on your arms, your back, your hips, holding you up, pulling you to him. You want to touch him everywhere too, but then he shifts and presses deeper and it’s all you can do to collapse to your stomach as he fucks you. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even fuck back. All you can do is take it.

He whispers “missed you” and “need you” along with “fuck, so tight” and “shit, Jare, not gonna last.”

He’s draped over your back, his breath hot against your spine. You feel the shape of “I love you” against your skin when he comes inside you. If you hadn’t already come all over the floor beneath you, the words alone would set you off. Somewhere along the way he turned you into a girl. Somewhere along the way you decided you didn’t really care. This is too good.


A few months after the DVD viewing, you’re reminded of your comment about Chris’s hair. Jensen dragged you out to a bar with several of his friends.

“Heard you think I need a haircut.” A hand dropped onto your back; you looked over your shoulder to be greeted by a cowboy hat. Then the head tipped back and Chris’s familiar mug was grinning at you from under the brim.

You shrugged. “Doesn’t it get in your face during fight scenes?” Yours certainly did.

“Not like it does when I’m fucking someone.” His grin turned into a smirk and you wondered if the glint in his eye was an invitation.

Two hours later found your fist tangled in those long locks as he pressed you against the wall of his living room. You’d barely made it inside the apartment. “Like… my hair… now?” he asked as he ground his dick against your hip. You didn’t get a chance to reply before he shoved his tongue down your throat again. Saved you having to admit the answer was yes.


The hardwood floor is, well, hard. And a tiny part of you regrets that you didn’t make it upstairs to the bedroom. Your knees can’t take this shit anymore. He knows what you’re thinking before you can say it. “Give me food and an hour to recover. Then we’ll do this again upstairs. Slow and comfortable.”

Dinner’s waiting in the oven, the temp set low just to keep things warm. You’ve been here before, you know how this goes. You spent the afternoon cooking before he got home so you could spend the evening getting reacquainted.

“Let’s eat,” you say as you heave yourself up from the floor. The dogs meet you both in the kitchen and start drooling before you open the oven door. You know Chris will slip them bites under the table and you don’t care. He’s home.


There were a few months of random hookups interspersed with phone conversations about nothing important. Somewhere along the way something started to form between you that you couldn’t quite define. It was always the same until it wasn’t. You’d stare at his name on your phone then sigh and hit SEND.



“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Was watching you on Angel earlier.”

“Oh Jesus.” You could hear him suck in a breath like he was arming himself for battle. “And?”

“And I think I like the hair.”

“’M not cutting it like that again… unless it’s for a job.”

You smiled at the misunderstanding. “No. I mean… I like it like it is. Long. Something to hold onto when you’re fucking me.”

“This where we give up the attempt at small talk and get to the phone sex part?”

“Yeah. Wanna suck you.” You settled back on your couch and pictured him doing the same. This conversation became habit, formula. But it slowly changed, bit by bit, line by line, over months and years, until the only habit was “good night” and “love you” at the end.


It’s slower now. Face to face. The bed soft beneath your back. This is what they call making love, you think. And it’s not like it’s never been like this before, but it feels new. Absence and all that. It feels special tonight. The way you arch into each other, the way you both stop moving so you can kiss and just look at each other.

Part of you wants to turn over, to get on your knees, to take it hard and fast like earlier. You want to pretend it doesn’t mean something, that it’s just another fuck. You want it to be strange and new. You want it to be the first time you’ve let someone inside you, not the billionth time because what does that make you?

But you love it like this and you know tomorrow morning Chris will be the one rolling over and asking for it because it’s been so long and every once in a while that’s what he wants. What he needs. What you want and need. And it’ll be hard and fast and will reaffirm that you’re not the girl even though you spent the afternoon cooking and cleaning and standing on the porch waiting for your Prince Charming to rescue you from this solitary life of the last several months.


“Chris is coming up this weekend. You should come over.”

Jensen looked at you like you had two heads. “Wait… Are you fucking him?” He sounded truly surprised.

“Uh… yeah?” You wondered who looked more confused: you or him. “Did you really not know that? It’s been months, dude.”

“You’re serious.” Statement, not question.

“Uh… yeah.”

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?”


“The hair. Girls always go for the hair.”

“You did notice I’m not a girl, right?” You ignore that fact that more than once you’ve wondered if Chris has turned you into one. Things with Chris are different, changing. You with Chris are different.

“I don’t want to know who’s the girl.” Jensen said, shaking his head. “I should have known when we were watching his show and you made that comment about him needing a haircut… Oh fuck, were you already--”

“No. Not till later.”

“And now you’re okay with the hair? Because before…”

“I’m good with it. Something to grab--”

“I don’t need the details.”


“So it’s serious?”

“Yeah.” You had to look away; you swallowed and closed your eyes for a second before you could meet his gaze again. Then you nodded and said “yeah, it is” because it was.

That weekend Chris came up and when he headed back to LA he left his toothbrush and razor in your bathroom. The next few months saw dresser drawers and the left side of your closet fill up with his stuff.


Chris doesn’t know how it got to this point. Not just letting you fuck him -- you don’t do it this way often, but the novelty wore off a few years ago -- but letting you in. And letting himself out. Calling you baby and telling you his deepest thoughts and fears, his oldest secrets. Telling you he loves you before he can even think about whether or not it’s true. And knowing, the minute it’s out of his mouth, that it is. Everything’s happened so fast and he doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to slow down, but sometimes he wishes he’d paid more attention to what was going on along the way.

Coming home to you last night, being reminded of what home is… he feels like he must have missed some important moment, some turning point that brought you here. He wants every moment with you.


 Left By:
fluffyllama (Llama)

2009-12-27 07:19:14

Oh, this is lovely! Thank you so much for writing this pairing, it's hard to find for really obvious reasons, I suppose, but I find it strangely appealing. I would love to see them interact, but heh, the hair may well play some part in my enjoyment of them together. I can't deny having a slight hair fetish *g*Thanks again!

 Left By:
Guest (Brenda)

2010-01-03 00:22:13

Oh, Jared, I love that you're too polite to fuck on your front porch, even though that really IS what all good Texas boys do. I also can't quite deciAde if I love Jensen's obliviousness more or that Jared totally isn't a girl even though he really, really is. *g* Good job on this one, hon.