PART FOUR

"You're still here."

Jared turns around, the coffee maker brewing noisily on the counter behind him.

"Thanks for taking care of me last night." Jared's voice shatters any apprehensions that Jensen has yet to wake up from his restless dreams. He'd tossed and turned all night, tormented by the possibility of being with Jared instead of Tahmoh.

"Pretty sure I would've felt ten times worse if you hadn't helped me out."

He leaves Jensen staring at the back of his rumpled t-shirt as he returns to making coffee. Jensen remains dumbfounded, never envisioning a scenario in which Jared was here when he woke up. Relief outweighs every other emotion, so thick in his chest that it almost hurts.

Jensen rushes forward and Jared turns just in time to gasp, “Jen—” before Jensen throws his arms around him. Jared shifts into the embrace without hesitation, his hold tight across Jensen’s back, a double band of warmth and strength.

The school day beckons, but Jensen has no intention of letting Jared go. He wants to hold his best friend until every painful moment between them has been forgiven. Until Jensen finds a way to make up for being oblivious to Jared’s internal struggle over his sexuality.

“Hey,” Jared soothes, “whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m sorry about last n—”

“Don’t,” Jensen snaps, “you have nothing to be sorry about.”

Jared holds him tighter.

The coffee machine reaches the end of its cycle with a cheery beep. Jared doesn’t let go. He lifts one hand to cup the side of Jensen’s face, holding gently beneath his jaw, bringing their mouths close together. The other is an anchor between Jensen’s shoulder blades, preventing him from drifting away. And Jensen knows that Jared’s about to kiss him.

Jensen has witnessed this before. In the darkness under flashing strobe lights and in the full light of the sun, with women who meant something to Jared and women he collided with for only a moment on the dance floor. He’s watched Jared guiding open, desperate mouths together, pressing himself into a kiss like he can’t get close enough. Deep and full of feeling, no matter how he felt about the woman he was kissing.

Over the years, Jensen found a way to deny and ignore the envy he felt when Jared kissed a woman. (Honestly, Jensen doesn’t think he would have survived seeing Jared kiss another guy back then.) Now it all comes rushing back. He wants to be the sole focus of Jared’s attention, the center-point of his universe. He yearns to cross the line he himself had drawn in the sand back when Jared’s sexuality wasn’t in question.

But he can’t.

“Jay—”

Jensen hears the break in his own voice. Jared’s eyes never leave his as he steps out of the embrace. Absent their breathing and the rumbling of the coffee machine, the kitchen is quiet until Jared tries to apologize again.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” Jensen says, “I meant it before. You have nothing to apologize for, okay?”

Jensen attempts to break the awkwardness by starting in on breakfast. Neither of them should be going to work with nothing but coffee burning in their stomachs. There’s also the issue of Jared’s clothes. He won’t have time to run to his place before work, meaning they’ll have to get creative with what’s in Jensen’s closet.

Because those jeans he wore last night are not proper work attire.

They manage to get ready and out the door on time, settling on ‘safe’ topics like their students and needing a new refrigerator for the teacher’s lounge.

After school, Jensen drives Jared to the Hill so he can pick up his car. Jared's wearing the shirt he picked out of Jensen's closet that morning—gray with a hint of a shimmer, something his parents gave him for Christmas which he hasn't worn yet—even though Jensen knows he usually keeps at least one spare hanging up in his classroom closet. Jensen refuses to name the feeling he gets when he sees how good Jared looks wearing it.

As they pull up next to Jared's car, Jensen asks, "Do you want to get together later?" Jared looks over, eyes wide. "I don't mean—not like that," he clarifies in a rush. "Tahmoh's at regionals for another night. I thought you might wanna hang out like we used to."

"I don't think I can."

It's difficult not to be frustrated; Jensen thought they might be past this. "Jared, come on..."

"I'm not avoiding you, Jen. I promise. It's not like the past few months."

"Then just come over," Jensen pleads. "Or we can go to the gym if that's what you want. I don't care. I miss spending time with you."

Jared's smile is the worth the embarrassment of admitting something so sappy. "Jen, I'm exhausted. Your couch is fine, but I didn't sleep well. I need to go home, take another shower."

"This has nothing to do with what you said last night?"

Jared sighs. "A little," he admits. "Things are hard enough without adding that kind of temptation. I don't want to make things difficult for you."

Jensen should insist there's no issue because he'd never do anything to hurt Tahmoh, but he can't.

"Things are gonna get better now that you know...well, now that everything's out in the open. I just need some time to figure things out, okay?"

Though he's disappointed to be going home alone, Jensen is hopeful. They're going to be alright.

When Jensen gets home, he pulls out his phone and watches all the videos Tahmoh sent throughout the day: clips of his swimmers winning races and receiving medals on the podium. The last one is a video Tahmoh sent him that morning.

"Morning, Jen. I hope you slept well." The generic painting behind Tahmoh and the color of the walls tells Jensen this was recorded in his hotel room. Jensen wants to reach through the phone's screen, touch Tahmoh's sleepy smile. "I kept waking up last night wishing you were next to me. Just thought you should know how much I miss you."

Jensen misses him, too. If Tahmoh were here—if Jensen could work up the nerve to tell him everything that's happened—he'd know what to do.

"I never heard from you last night, so I hope things are okay with Jared. You know I worry about him, too. Anyway, wish me luck. It'll probably be a long day, but I'll call you tonight as soon as I get a chance. Take care, Jen. I can't wait to see you when I get back, hopefully with a win!"

Just hearing Tahmoh's voice eases some of the weight Jensen's carrying. Based on the rest of the videos, Calhoun's team fared pretty well today. Jensen's positive he'll hear more when Tahmoh calls.

For once, Jensen's happy to have enough work to distract him for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. He doesn't want anything hanging over his head when Tahmoh calls. With any luck, they'll be able to finish what they (barely) started last night...

~~~~~

“What are we doing shots of?”

“Shots?” Jensen parrots. “You never do shots!”

“It’s not every day that I’m celebrating a regional win,” Tahmoh points out.

Jensen laughs while their bartender pours two shots of Fireball. The hot cinnamon whisky burns Jensen's throat on the way down, but it swirls warmly in his stomach, heat finding its way onto his cheeks. He's never seen Tahmoh so happy, so carefree. Jensen adores his quiet strength and gentle humor. Seeing him like this adds a new dimension to his feelings.

Tahmoh’s been a whirlwind of excitement ever since the Calhoun girls won regionals (the boys put up a truly spectacular fight to place second against another behemoth swimming program). Going out to officially celebrate was his idea. Felicia is here along with her girlfriend, another assistant coach and his wife. The four of them are gathered around one of the pool tables while Tahmoh and Jensen handle drinks from the bar. Tahmoh even invited Jared.

No one is more surprised than Jensen when Jared shows up.

"Did I miss the shots?" Jared asks, stepping up to the bar. He looks rested, more color in his cheeks than when Jensen saw him the day before. His hair shines, brushed away from his face, and though he's not wearing Jensen's clothes, he looks amazing in a soft gray sweater over one of his many brightly colored plaids, dark-wash jeans and his customary boots.

“You only missed the first round!”

Jared leans in when Tahmoh hugs him. Their heads remain close together for a moment as Tahmoh whispers something in his ear. Jared’s expression tightens for a split-second before the grin is back. Tahmoh waves down their bartender, making room for Jensen to tuck close and give Jared a hug, too.

It’s the best night out Jensen’s had in a while. There are smiles, jokes, and stories. Jared acts like he hasn’t missed a step, throwing back the shot Tahmoh gives him and laughing at the burn. After a few drinks, Tahmoh is giddy. He deserves to be, Jensen thinks. His boyfriend looks like a fucking movie star: sleek leather jacket over a crisp white t-shirt, chiseled jaw accentuated by the reddish-brown scruff that’s grown in as a result of not shaving since before the regional meet.

“I’ve never seen you let loose like this,” Jensen comments. With Tahmoh pressed against his back, they attempt to defend their seats at the bar against the swelling Saturday night crowd. Jared’s beside them talking to Felicia about an app to which they’re both addicted. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Tahmoh wraps one arm around Jensen’s waist. “It’s easy ‘cause you’re here,” he says like it’s that simple. “And Jared’s here. Feels pretty good to be together again.” His words brush lightly across the curve Jensen’s ear. “Whatever happened, I’m glad you guys worked it out. Seeing you without Jared was tough—I know how much you love him.”

This thing between Jensen and Jared is far from worked out. He’s been debating whether or not to tell Tahmoh what happened with Jared the night Jensen picked him up from the Hill. Tahmoh was so excited when he came back; Jensen hasn’t found the right moment yet.

After the next round of drinks, Tahmoh’s public displays of affection are no longer limited to Jensen. He hangs off Jared, their arms thrown around one another’s shoulders. Jensen follows their lead and hooks his arm around Jared’s elbow so he can’t run away. Tahmoh reaches past Jared’s chest to steal the cherry from Jensen’s amaretto sour (for which they both mock him). The alcohol is a blessing and a curse, because no matter how good Jensen feels right now, the problems will be there tomorrow.

Felicia talks Tahmoh into a game of pool, leaving Jared and Jensen watching from the bar.

“I’m really happy you’re here, man.”

Jared’s expression falters when he turns his head towards the pool tables. “Have you said anything?”

Jensen swallows the extra cherry he sweet-talked the bartender into giving him. “About what?”

“Jen—you know what.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jared. We didn’t do anything. Can we just not—can we just enjoy ourselves tonight? For Moh?”

Jared nods, but the truce only lasts a few minutes.

“He’s your boyfriend—you should be honest with him.”

“Are you planning to say something if I don’t?” Panic grips Jensen by the throat. Jared backtracks before he can freak out.

“I’d never do that to you,” he assures. “I just—I want things to be okay. I’d understand if you want to tell him. It’ll suck to lose Tahmoh as a friend, but—”

“That wouldn’t happen,” Jensen insists. The different kinds of alcohol are beginning to mix unpleasantly in his stomach. “Even if I do tell him, if he can’t get over what happened, I’ll—”

“You’ll what,” Jared presses, “break up with him? Don’t even go there. I know how you feel about him even if you haven’t said anything.”

Jensen sputters. If he's that transparent, then what has Tahmoh seen? Fortunately the man in question returns, sliding between them before he can respond. Felicia and her girlfriend squeeze their way up to the bar on Jared’s other side.

“Apparently I’m only good in the pool, not playing it.” Tahmoh pouts on Jared’s shoulder, earning himself a gentle pat on the back.

While Felicia fills Jared and Jensen in on the game, Tahmoh's hand slips into Jensen's back pocket, tempting him with a flirty squeeze when Jensen pushes into the touch.

Suddenly, Jensen wants to be out of this bar. Arousal supersedes everything else. He hasn't gotten off since the night before Tahmoh left for the meet, and he welcomes the distraction of sex. He doesn't want to think about Jared, his feelings, or the guilt.

Tahmoh’s touches straddle the line between affection and lust. Jensen's need is at an all-time high, so when Tahmoh leans over and kisses him, Jensen doesn’t temper his response. His tongue is halfway in Tahmoh’s mouth when Felicia clears her throat. Jensen breaks away and finds Jared and Felicia staring at them.

“Do us all a favor and get out of here,” she says, “before everyone gets a free show.”

Jared throws down some money for his share of the tab. “I’m gonna head out, too.” Jensen shoots him a look, to which Jared responds by adding, “Got a hot date with my DVR.”

Relieved that Jared’s not going someplace questionable like the Hill, Jensen lets Tahmoh settle their tab and follows him through the crowd. He tries not to look back, but he turns around when they reach the door and catches a glimpse of Jared hanging his head.

~~~~~

Locks, furniture, stairs. Jensen curses the existence of all three as they do their damnedest to hinder Jensen and Tahmoh on their way to Jensen’s bedroom.

Jensen is so horny, his brain has rerouted its capabilities to make sure he doesn’t come before he’s even naked. Unbuttoning his jeans is more of a hassle than it should be, but with Tahmoh’s help, they finally manage to undress each other.

“Guess you really missed me,” Tahmoh says. Jensen doesn’t bother denying it, too busy fumbling through his bedside drawer to pull out lube and a condom.

Despite his guilt over keeping secrets from Tahmoh, Jensen knows what he wants. Top or bottom, Jensen has no complaints with Tahmoh either way, but tonight he craves control. Needs to be inside his boyfriend, feeling him come apart. They rush through prep, skipping their usual foreplay, and it’s Tahmoh who insists that he’s ready.

“I can wait if you need me to,” Jensen assures, voice stretched.

“I don’t want you to,” Tahmoh gasps, Jensen’s fingers relentless against his rim, scissoring and gliding. “I’m good—I’m ready.”

Jensen’s shaking when he sinks his cock into the rippling heat of Tahmoh’s body. Tahmoh mistakes his shivering for intensity of sensation, soothing with gentle strokes down Jensen’s arms and across his shoulders. Pulling him down for a slow kiss while pushing down with his hips, taking every last inch.

It’s fear sending these quakes throughout Jensen’s body. He was afraid his feelings for Tahmoh might change after learning Jared’s secret. The word love has been on the tip of Jensen’s tongue more than once; Tahmoh deserves to know how much Jensen cares for him. Would those feelings be lessened, now that he knows what Jared was hiding?

The answer hits Jensen when Tahmoh reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together and placing joined hands over his heart. It wrecks Jensen’s rhythm, nearly pulls him off balance, but looking down at Tahmoh’s pleasure-slack face, Jensen knows.

He loves Tahmoh. Every fiber is soaked with it. He doesn’t say it—not yet, not when it could be confused for sex-emotions—but he rejoices. Jensen throws himself into the moment with renewed passion, spreading his knees on the bed for a better angle. Tahmoh’s moans come one after another, breath seizing in his chest when Jensen strikes his prostate with a hard thrust.

Jensen lasts longer than he thought he would, losing himself deep within Tahmoh’s body. He barely touches Tahmoh’s cock before his boyfriend’s coming, too.

“I don’t think I can get up,” Tahmoh says. “You fucked the energy right out of me.”

“Means I did something right,” Jensen teases, his own legs protesting any kind of movement as he tosses the used condom.

“You definitely did.”

They’re covered in sweat but Jensen lies close to Tahmoh, sheets kicked down around their ankles. A post-sex haze descends over both men; they’re content to hold each other in silence, touches too light to spark another round this soon.

Jensen realizes Tahmoh has fallen asleep when his breathing deepens. Not a surprise given how much he drank and the way Jensen wrung that orgasm from his body. Jensen fights sleep a little longer, anxiety no longer held back by arousal.

There’s no way around it now: if Jensen loves Tahmoh, he needs to tell him what happened. Their relationship is strong—Tahmoh will understand. He falls asleep holding that thought in his mind. If he grips Tahmoh a little tighter throughout the night, they’re none the wiser.

~~~~~

Jensen almost tells Tahmoh the next morning. Instead, he takes pity on his hungover boyfriend and makes pancakes topped with fruit. They spend most of Sunday doing work in between cuddle-heavy naps on Jensen’s couch until Tahmoh has to leave.

“You could stay.”

“I haven’t slept at my place since I got back.” Tahmoh reminds him. “I like spending time here, but I’m out of clean clothes and I’ve gotta get up way too early in the morning.”

“Back to regular practices?”

“State meet’s in two weeks.” Tahmoh groans. “It’s gonna be rough.”

Jensen goes for a run before the sun sets that night. He loops around his neighborhood twice—a good three miles—trying to pound his worries out on the pavement. He still comes home restless, pressure behind his ribs not solely from the exertion.

Tahmoh’s busy for most of the week with two practices every day for his swimmers who qualified for the State Championship meet. He and Jensen do manage to grab dinner together on Wednesday. Felicia’s there, too, helping Tahmoh arrange buses and hotel rooms for Calhoun’s team. Tahmoh makes it up to Jensen later, following him back to the house and fucking him slow and deep against the kitchen counter. Consider that room christened.

At Hallgrove, Jensen’s relationship with Jared is more stable. They order lunch from a couple of new places, help Erica narrow down venue options for the wedding, and try to make one another laugh out loud with cat gifs on their phones during a staff meeting. Outside of the school, they can’t avoid the reality of their situation. Jared brings it up at Troubadour’s on Thursday afternoon.

“I’m waiting for the right time,” Jensen says when Jared asks if Tahmoh knows.

“It’s just a conversation.”

“Just a—Jay, he could break up with me.”

“He won’t.” Abandoning his papers, Jared leans back in his chair. And then, because Jensen can’t help himself, he asks the question that’s been tormenting him.

“Do you want him to?”

Jared’s fists clench on the table, his jaw clenched. He studies Jensen with an unwavering gaze, expression unreadable. Eventually, he sighs and says, “I didn’t tell you how I felt so that you and Moh would break up. I told you because keeping it a secret was like slowly dying from poison I took every day, and because you deserved to know.”

Sounds like a familiar argument, Jensen thinks. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Jared said yes.

“If breaking you up was my goal, I could’ve done it before now.”

Jensen’s nerves are being trampled. “What are you talking about?”

Jared’s fingers rub in circles over his temples. Whatever he’s about to say comes at a cost.

“Tahmoh and I talked one night a few weeks ago, back when I didn’t see you guys much.” It was one of the rare times Jared went to the gym during those couple of months, he explains. Tahmoh cornered him in the empty locker room, pressing for answers about why Jared was avoiding them.

“He called me a dick.”

Jensen smirks half-heartedly. “You deserved it.”

Tahmoh demanded to know why Jared had pulled away. “I couldn’t tell him the real reason, so I said it was personal. That’s when he sort of, I don’t know—I guess he shut down.”

“What did he say?” Jensen prompts, desperate to put pieces together.

“He asked if he was the reason I’d stopped hanging out with you. He thought I’d changed my mind and that I didn’t want you two together anymore. He didn’t say it, but I think he knew what I was going through, trying to work out my feelings towards you.”

Jensen barely manages to swallow around the lump in his throat, emotions threatening to choke him.

“And then Moh said he couldn’t stand to see you hurting because of me,” Jared continues. “He wanted you to be happy, and he would’ve done anything, including stepping aside for your best friend.” More frantic now, his gaze never wavers from Jensen’s. “I couldn’t let him do that, Jen. Even then I knew how good you were for one another. I could see it.

“He brought it up again at the restaurant the other night.” Jensen flashes back to the scene: Tahmoh and Jared’s chairs pulled close together, heads bent in conversation. Words they obviously didn’t want Jensen to hear. “Tahmoh was making sure I was still okay. I told him he was the better man for you.”

When did Jensen’s life veer so far off course? A few weeks ago, he thought he finally achieved the happiness he wanted. Now it’s as if someone threw Jensen’s plans in a box, shook it up, and dumped the pieces out on the floor, all scrambled and out of order.

Completely out of steam, Jensen mutters, “Did he offer to break up with me then, too?”

This time, Jared’s smile is genuine. “Just the opposite. He said he couldn’t let you go even if I asked him.”

He’s finally pushed Jensen off the emotional cliff.

“I need to get home,” Jensen says in a rush, gathering his work without bothering to mark how far he got with his grading.

“Jen, wait—”

“No, I can’t take any more. How could you guys not talk to me? I was right there the whole time!”

“I don’t think any of us were ready.”

“So this is better?” Jensen hisses. He’s not angry, he just needs to talk to Tahmoh before his head spins off. Standing, he slings his bag over his shoulder. Before he can take a step, Jared reaches for his hand.

“Hang on, there’s one more thing,” Jared says. “At the bar the other night, Tahmoh warned me not to pull away from either of you again, that I meant too much to both of you, and he wouldn’t stand for it if I hurt you all over again.”

He sighs. “So I’m trying, Jen. I promise. I’m not hiding anything anymore. And I thought you should know that he cares enough about to you to stand up to me, even if he hasn’t told you yet.”

~~~~~

Tahmoh walks in at a quarter after eight, one arm weighed down with grocery bags. Jensen took the next step in their relationship by giving him a key almost two weeks ago so he could come and go as he pleased. Tahmoh has taken particular delight in sneaking over on his way to an early practice, waking Jensen up with slow, wet head in the dark before sunrise.

Jensen is starting to like mornings again.

“Trader Joe’s had these almond crusted chicken breasts pre-made, so I picked up a couple.” Tahmoh sets the paper bags on Jensen’s counter. “I thought we could pop them in the oven while we—Jen?” He stops and moves around towards Jensen who’s been sitting silently at the kitchen island. “What’s wrong?”

Jensen’s been waiting there since he got Tahmoh’s text letting him know he was on his way over. Fifteen minutes spent wondering where to begin. He’s been so worried about telling his boyfriend about Jared’s confession, he never considered that Tahmoh might already know.

“Can we talk?”

They end up at the counter after Tahmoh gets the chicken in the oven. Jensen hopes his body language doesn’t read as hostile.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he begins. “At first I felt bad about keeping it from you, but now I’m thinking you know how that feels.”

Tahmoh sighs. “You talked to Jared.” His broad shoulders are curled in resignation. “I figured something happened between you guys while I was gone—you were both different when I got back.”

Jensen relays the story of that night as best he can, leaving out his own history at Diamond Hill; that’s a tale for another time. He tells Tahmoh how Jared was too drunk to drive himself home, how he brought Jared back here thinking he’d pass out on the couch and that would be the end of it.

Tahmoh reaches the conclusion before Jensen gets there. “He told you how he feels about you, didn’t he? I’m glad, actually,” he says when Jensen nods. “I think it was killing him that you didn’t know.”

“But you did.”

“I have the benefit of an outsider’s point of view.” Jensen feels a pang hearing Tahmoh refer to himself as an outsider. “Thinking back, it should’ve been obvious given the way he used to talk about you.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Jensen asks, trying to imagine how he’d feel in a similar situation.

“It did at first,” Tahmoh says. “I couldn’t understand why he set us up if he liked you. But then I figured it was probably something you two had talked about and dealt with years ago. Didn’t take me very long to realize that he never actually told you.”

“And then you thought he regretted setting us up on that blind date.”

Tahmoh looks over. “Jared told you about that, too?” He sounds surprised. “He asked me not to say anything.” On the one hand, Jensen’s pleased that he kept his word to Jared, but on the other, Jensen is his boyfriend.

“Why did you tell him that you’d step aside if he asked you to?”

“We hadn’t made it official yet. I know that’s not a reason, but you should know when it happened. It was before I acknowledged how much I care about you, but even then I don’t know that I could’ve walked away. I never had to make the choice. Jared wouldn’t let me. And the next time he and I talked about it, stepping aside was no longer an option.”

With an earnest smile, Tahmoh turns on the stool, knees knocking Jensen’s (clearly his kitchen island wasn’t built with men over six feet tall in mind), and reaches for Jensen’s hands.

“Did Jared tell you what else I said?”

“You were doing it because wanted me to be happy,” Jensen recalls.

“I wanted both of you to be happy. Jared’s a good friend, and he was suffering, too.” Tahmoh squeezes Jensen’s hands. “God, I remember thinking that if I was the reason you were both so miserable, I needed to change something. Can you blame me for saying what I did?”

Jensen can’t, and he says as much before pulling Tahmoh forward by the hands and seeking his lips. It’s a quiet, unhurried kiss with little intent behind it, but Jensen welcomes the rush of affection that comes with it. He wishes Tahmoh said something earlier, if only to save Jensen from the maddening confusion of the last few weeks, but saying so would make him a hypocrite. He needs to come clean, too.

“Jared almost kissed me.”

In the ensuing silence, Jensen tells him when it happened, how it was only the once. Tahmoh takes his time before saying anything. When he does, it’s a question that sinks Jensen to the lowest he’s felt all day.

“Did you want him to?”

“I wouldn’t have let him,” Jensen says.

“That’s not what I was asking.” Tahmoh hesitates before adding, “It’s okay, Jen. We’re being honest.”

Jensen has replayed that moment in the kitchen many times over since it happened. He knows what he felt. “I’ve seen him kiss a lot of people,” he admits, “and it wasn’t the first time I wanted it to be me. But nothing happened, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Tahmoh says, gazing at Jensen like he knew the answer all along. “And it is okay. There was a time I wanted to kiss him, too.”

The oven beeps, counting down the minutes until their dinner is ready, but they ignore it.

“When?” he asks, genuinely curious and surprised to find he’s not upset.

“Before he set us up.” Tahmoh lets go of Jensen’s hands and stands, grabbing potholders to take the chicken out of the oven before the beeping drives them insane. He goes on to explain that when he and Jared started talking to each other more often at the gym, he had considered asking Jared out.

“He’s a flirt, you know that,” he tells Jensen. “I guess I assumed he was bisexual, at least, given that and the way he talked about you. I thought you were his boyfriend at first, not his best friend.”

Before Tahmoh had the opportunity to ask Jared out for a drink, Jared beat him to the punch. Except, he wasn’t asking for himself.

“Before I said yes to the date with you, I asked Jared if he was into guys at all. Maybe I was wrong about the flirting. I kinda had a hard time believing it when he told me he was straight, but I decided to let it go when he brought up the blind date. And once I met you, it didn’t matter anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tahmoh stops arranging their dinners on two plates and circles around the island. Steps between Jensen’s legs and curls his hands around Jensen’s nape, leaving him no choice but to look up and meet Tahmoh’s gaze.

“You changed everything, Jensen.”

Screw dinner.

Jensen surges off the stool, Tahmoh catching him before they lose their balance and go toppling to the floor. He's rarely so aggressive, snagging Tahmoh's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging until Tahmoh whines. Jensen spins them until Tahmoh’s back hits the counter, assailing his boyfriend's wide open mouth, fumbling fingers trying to find the button on Tahmoh’s pants without breaking their kiss.

“Fuck,” Tahmoh curses. “Just pull them down!”

Track pants. Right. Issue resolved, Jensen drops to his knees and whets his raging appetite by coaxing Tahmoh’s cock to hardness with tongue and touch, sucking him off right there in the middle of the kitchen while their dinner cools on the counter behind them.

In Jensen’s enthusiasm, he takes Tahmoh too deep, only just avoiding being choked when Tahmoh involuntarily bucks forward.

“Sorry,” he coughs.

“Easy, Jen,” Tahmoh says, hands combing through Jensen’s hair in soft counterpoint to his ragged breathing. “I’m already close.” He hauls Jensen to his feet, muttering, “Pants down, now,” so that he can wrap his hand around both of their cocks. Jensen’s fully hard and desperate—the same as Tahmoh—and it only takes a few minutes for them to make a mess of one another.

Good thing almond-crusted chicken tastes decent when it’s cold, too.

~~~~~

Jensen doesn’t notice the shift at first.

His time with Tahmoh is cut in half over the next week as his boyfriend prepares for States. When they do see each other, it’s intense. Not that Jensen’s complaining—it’s the good kind of intense where their bodies are hotwired to one another. Conversation is secondary; sometimes Tahmoh barely makes it into the house before Jensen is racing him to the bedroom. Only after fucking themselves into an exhausted heap of sweaty limbs on Jensen’s bed do they slide back into benign kisses, trading stories from the day.

The sex is so good, Jensen fears for his brain cells. It's as if they're fucking with something to prove. When they're together, nothing else is important.

Jensen finds himself thinking back to what Tahmoh said on Thursday night. That Jensen changed everything. He hasn't told Tahmoh yet, but it's the same for him. He's no longer anxious about his future. As far as Jensen's concerned, he's found what he was looking for, and because of that, he doesn't let himself analyze the fleeting sense that something's off.

Jared has pulled a one-eighty. Instead of avoiding Jensen and Tahmoh, he's everywhere. At Troubadour's with Jensen after school, overdosing on caffeine as they try to stay ahead of the end-of-term craziness. With Tahmoh at the gym, where they push one another with good-natured competition, from which Jensen reaps the benefits when Tahmoh comes over afterwards, flush with endorphins and eager to sweat some more. Jared even accepts an invitation to join them at Jamie's new bar for stress-relieving drinks.

Jensen expects some weirdness after last week’s revelations, but the three of them slip seamlessly into conversation. Jared smiles without being prompted—Jensen finds himself drawn to the sight—and there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s not from the bar lighting.

Tahmoh is a bridge between them, touching Jared’s elbow with one hand while the other finds Jensen’s on top of the bar. Jensen watches them trade easy smiles and affectionate gestures. It raises his spirit to see their friendship growing into its full potential, no longer stunted by Jared’s self-imposed exile. The sight causes a spike in his pulse; there's not a man or woman in the bar who isn't affected by the two handsome men. For Jensen, who's intimately familiar with both in various ways, it's stirring.

The only odd moment of the night comes when one of Jamie’s friends, a handsome man with dark, wavy hair and a London accent draws Jared into conversation. Apparently the man, Oliver, shares Jared’s passion for modern literature, and it’s not long before they’re deep in discussion over a particular author.

Jensen hates him immediately.

Tahmoh leans in to ask Jensen, “Think he’s interested in Jared?” Based on Oliver’s body language, the answer is yes, though Jared is tougher to read. His expression is open and there’s plenty of eye contact, but that could be Jared’s excitement at being able to talk about his favorite subject. (Jensen likes to pretend he can't tolerate modern lit for more than five minutes and Tahmoh completely glazes over.)

Ten minutes later, though, Oliver has disappeared and Jared’s standing between Jensen and Tahmoh ordering a second drink. Jensen feels like crowing. Tahmoh meets his gaze and smiles, easing his stance.

These are the moments when the buzz under Jensen’s skin is hard to ignore.

Two days before Tahmoh leaves for States, Jensen invites Tahmoh, Felicia, and the rest of Calhoun Swimming's staff, along with Jared, to a pub he and Jared discovered when they'd first moved to town. After eating, they split up into smaller groups to play pub games or drink at the bar.

“Gonna miss Moh this weekend?” Jared asks, sidling up next to Jensen. Beside the indoor shuffleboard table, Tahmoh’s talking to the athletic director while they slide their pieces across the sandy surface.

“It’ll be weird without him at the house,” Jensen admits. “I’ve gotten used to someone else being there.”

Jared buys the next round, handing Jensen a fresh beer. "It makes me happy to see you guys together.”

Jensen braces himself for another confession—he hasn’t had nearly enough to drink for that.

“I can’t explain it,” Jared tells him, “but I feel good when I look at you. Like there’s hope, you know?”

Jensen frowns. “Hope for what?”

Before Jared can sate Jensen’s curiosity, he’s being tugged away from the bar by Felicia who claims him as her partner for darts.

Two games later, Felicia gives up and comes to sit by Jensen (who couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn) while Tahmoh and Jared keep playing. She’s smiling and pink-cheeked, red curls tucked behind her ears. She laughs off her failure at darts and thanks Jensen for treating them to a night out.

“I didn’t know how stressed I was until I tried to relax,” she says. “I’ll be glad when the season’s over and we get a break.”

Jensen’s looking forward to that, too. Tahmoh has two weeks off before he starts coaching a summer league. He can’t wait to sleep in with his boyfriend. Sex is awesome, but nothing beats lazy morning cuddling.

A booming laugh draws Jensen out of his thoughts. Tahmoh’s head is thrown back as he reacts to whatever Jared has said, one hand firmly gripping Jared’s shoulder. His full-bodied laugh is one of Jensen’s favorite sounds in the world; it’s rare but beautiful.

Felicia sighs. “Those two are awesome together,” she says dreamily. "Makes you wish you could have them both, huh?" Jensen’s heart skips back over its own rhythm. “I guess you kinda do. Best friend, boyfriend. I mean, wow! That must be awesome for you.”

Felicia keeps talking, deaf to the fact that she’s taken a fucking sledgehammer to Jensen’s frame of mind. The pieces are everywhere—jagged edges and sharp splinters Jensen can’t begin to clean up.

Both of them. A piece too deadly to handle.

Somehow Jensen manages to survive the next half hour at the pub, though he’s oblivious to anything he says or does before Tahmoh calls it a night. They head out to the parking lot, Jared and Tahmoh bickering about their last game of darts.

“You know I’m a better player,” Tahmoh’s insisting. “That’s one of the reasons you like me so much.”

Jared scoffs. “Right. I almost asked you out because of your skills at a fucking bar game.”

It hits Jensen and Tahmoh at the same time, both pulling up short. But it’s Tahmoh who says, “I almost asked you out, man. Get it straight.”

Jared shrugs it off, three beers loosening his tongue. “Yeah, I never told you, but I definitely thought about it.” He keeps walking towards his car like it’s no big deal, leaving Jensen and Tahmoh standing speechless in the middle of the lot.

People need to seriously stop fucking with Jensen’s mental health.

They drive to Jensen’s in separate cars. The mood is subdued unlike the last several nights Tahmoh has spent at Jensen's house when their clothes would be on the floor by now and the nearest piece of furniture would be forced to bear the brunt of two men fucking. Tahmoh didn't drink enough to account for the glassiness in his eyes. They don’t say much while they’re going through their nightly routines, taking turns in the bathroom and coming to stand on opposite sides of Jensen’s bed.

Tahmoh sinks onto the mattress, shoulders dropped. "You knew."

Dragging his palm down the side of his face, Jensen sighs. “He told me he liked you, but he thought you and I would be a better fit. He never said anything to you?”

“He flirted with me, but I thought it had all been on your behalf.” Tahmoh’s voice is thoughtful. “After he set us up, I tried not to think about it. I never imagined he had feelings for me.” He says it like he assumes Jared's feelings burned out at some point. Jensen has seen enough to disagree. “What if he had asked me out?”

“Moh—”

“I’m serious, Jen. What if he never set us up?” Despite being exhausted, there’s an edge to his voice; he’s terrified. “I like him—I would’ve said yes.”

Jensen notes the present tense; he doesn't call Tahmoh on it.

“Neither of us could have seen this coming,” Jensen admits, crossing to sit beside him. It's difficult for him to imagine a scenario in which he wouldn’t be drawn to Tahmoh, including the one where he’s dating Jensen’s best friend.

He whispers as much to Tahmoh and earns a half-smile.

“You could’ve been with Jared.”

Jensen sighs. “So could you.”

Sitting next to Tahmoh, their hands clasped between them, Jensen draws invisible lines. From himself to Jared—the longest line. So much history, so many emotions that Jensen has ignored or set on a shelf for the good of their friendship. From himself to Tahmoh—the boldest line. A strong foundation, the promise of a future. Jensen sees confidence, happiness along that path. And from Tahmoh to Jared—once the faintest, now gaining solid form. There are no gaps, no breaks in the lines. Only potential.

“This is what Jared was afraid of,” he muses aloud. “He never wanted to come between us.”

Tahmoh pulls Jensen sideways until they’re aligned from shoulder to thigh. “I’m committed to you, no matter how Jared feels. Do you feel the same way?” Jensen nods and Tahmoh continues, “I don’t think either of us can walk away from Jared, though. Right?”

Jensen looks down at their hands. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything yet.” Tahmoh laughs once, dryly, as if he can’t believe his own words. “I’m still afraid of what’s going to happen when I do.”

Jensen kisses him to stay his tongue, a forceful meeting of lips that lacks tenderness until Tahmoh’s free hand settles around the curve of Jensen’s jaw. He’s tamed through the touch, fear easing its hold on his mind. Parting his lips, Jensen invites Tahmoh’s tongue to twine with his, heat building until it spills over.

He doesn’t mean for the kiss to lead to more, but when Tahmoh pulls him down onto the bed, Jensen goes willingly. Clothes are removed piece-by-piece rather than in a rush. Jensen’s mouth falls to Tahmoh’s chest and he takes his fill of muscle and skin, winding down until he can take Tahmoh’s cock into his mouth. He doesn’t try to take too much, or rush Tahmoh’s pleasure; Jensen wants Tahmoh to feel everything. The mounting pressure, the wetness of Jensen’s mouth, every flick of his tongue.

Jensen ignores the guilt that comes from knowing that part of him is trying to impress his boyfriend, afraid Tahmoh won’t want him anymore now that he knows how Jared feels—now that Jensen knows that Tahmoh wanted Jared first. But when he finally slips his cock into Tahmoh’s thoroughly prepared ass, his thrusts are longer and deeper. Once he finds the right angle to hit Tahmoh’s prostate and hears his boyfriend cry out, every drive forward is precise and intentional to drag more of the same sounds from Tahmoh’s mouth. When Jensen kisses him, the taste is unbearably sweet.

Tahmoh holds Jensen afterwards, their arms wrapped around one another. It’s as if the earth is constantly shifting beneath their feet. As soon as Jensen thinks he’s found solid ground, that's when the next quakes hits. It leaves him wondering if there’s such a thing as safe ground out there. One thing Jensen does know: they can’t stay where they are.

“Why is this so difficult?” he asks looking down at where their forearms cross over Tahmoh’s chest. Jensen feels like his heart is curling in on itself.

Tahmoh takes several deep breaths, Jensen’s cheek rising and falling with each exhale. “Maybe we’re not where we’re supposed to be right now,” he says.

Jensen rolls up so he’s sitting over Tahmoh, the sheet falling until it barely covers their thighs. “How can you say we’re not supposed to be together? I thought—”

“Jen, that’s not what I’m saying.” Tahmoh sits up, too. “I meant what I said before. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. That’s what scares me so much about this whole thing.”

“Why?”

Tahmoh smiles, but it doesn’t reach his sleepy gaze. They’re both exhausted. “I could fall in love with you, Jen. I’m pretty sure I already have. I’ve never said it to anyone before, but with you…”

Jensen has to keep his mouth shut. The words he’s been holding close to his heart for weeks are on the tip of his tongue, but this isn’t how he wants to give them life. Not in a moment like this. And he knows Tahmoh didn’t say them expecting a response.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from falling for you even if I was with Jared. But he’s a great guy,” Tahmoh continues, “and I still like him. I wouldn’t be able to leave him, either.”

Suddenly the ground stops shaking and Jensen finds his footing. “And I wouldn’t let you,” he says. “I’d probably be going crazy, falling for the guy my best friend was dating.”

Tahmoh’s hand covers his knee. “You’d stay away because you felt guilty, but I wouldn’t allow that to happen. Neither would Jared.”

Jensen meets Tahmoh’s pale gaze and understands what his boyfriend is trying to tell him. That Jensen would do exactly what Jared did if their positions were reversed. Except Jensen doesn’t think he would have been able to withstand the pain of seeing Tahmoh and Jared together for as long as Jared has—he would have broken a long time ago. What can he say about that kind of strength?

“Jared should be here,” Jensen says, surprising himself. Tahmoh, too, based on his wide-eyed look. “I mean, I need to apologize. I didn’t understand what he was going through. Now we do.”

Sensing they each need space, Jensen throws on a pair of flannel pants and the first t-shirt he finds—a Calhoun Swimming shirt Tahmoh brought him—and goes to make two cups of decaf coffee. When he gets back, Tahmoh is dressed in pajamas as well, though Jensen doubts they'll be getting much sleep.

“I texted Felicia,” he tells Jensen, taking the steaming mugs so Jensen can climb onto the bed. “She’s gonna run morning practice for me.”

“Probably a good idea.”

They’re quiet for the next few minutes. Jensen’s thoughts are circling the possibility Tahmoh has yet to say out loud, trying to gauge how he feels. He’s not against the idea—if he wasn’t so tired, Jensen might even be excited—but it’s difficult to think about. He weighs the love he has for Jared against what he feels for Tahmoh and realizes there’s little separating the two.

“Is this something we’re considering?”

Jensen sighs. “I think we have to. We know how we feel about each other,” he says, matching Tahmoh’s smile with one of equal warmth, “and I know how I feel about Jared. Do you like him enough to see this through?"

Apprehension wipes the smile from Tahmoh's face. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

Jensen isn’t, and he says as much by leaning forward and stealing a light kiss. “I only want you to be honest with me,” he whispers against Tahmoh’s lips.

“Then yes, I think we should try.” Tahmoh pulls back, eyes searching Jensen’s. He opens his mouth as if to add something, but he reconsiders. Jensen files it away for later. Instead, Tahmoh sets his mug on the nightstand and rubs Jensen’s shoulder. “How about we try to get a little bit of sleep?”

“I doubt that’ll help.”

“Still, we could use it.”

Jensen can’t think of a good argument, so he sets his mug aside as well. They don’t break apart to their regular sides of the bed, meeting in the middle and cuddling up to one another like they would after sex. Jensen doesn't mind; they could both use the comfort.

It doesn’t escape Jensen that neither of them has put into words, specifically, what it is they’re considering.

~~~~~

They don’t talk much in the morning. Jensen wakes up late and has to rush through his shower. Tahmoh has his coffee in a travel mug by the time he gets downstairs. Thanks to Felicia covering practice, he could’ve slept for another hour, but he insisted on getting up with Jensen.

If that’s not love, Jensen doesn’t know what is.

“Are you gonna be here tonight?” Jensen asks while waiting for the toaster to pop.

“I don’t think I can,” Tahmoh says. “I’m giving Felicia the night off, and the buses are leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“So I won’t see you until Sunday night?”

“I wish that wasn’t the case.”

Jensen butters his toast, sprinkles a mixture of cinnamon and sugar over the bread. It’s been a comfort food for Jensen since college.

“Are you gonna hang out with Jared this weekend?”

Jensen looks up. “Do you not want me to?”

Tahmoh shakes his head. “I think it’s a good idea. You guys probably need to talk.” His voice lacks texture and warmth. Jensen could put it down to a lack of sleep, but he’s not convinced that’s the cause. There’s something Tahmoh isn’t telling him, some misgiving that involves Jared.

“You want us to talk without you?” That doesn’t seem right, either.

“You and I are talking without him,” Tahmoh points out. “You and Jared should do the same thing without me getting in the way. Or, just spend time together like you used to. It’s okay, I promise. Just don’t—” He cuts himself short, stares down at the floor.

Jensen should be rushing out the door. Instead, he takes two long strides and ends up in Tahmoh’s arms. “I would never,” he swears, “not without you.”

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” Tahmoh mutters into Jensen’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to see Jared, that’s fine, too. Maybe we could all use a little time apart to get our heads on straight.”

Jensen leans back to look Tahmoh in the eye. “You don’t know what you want?”

“I do, I’m just afraid it’s not the same thing you want. Or that Jared will want.”

“Moh…”

“You’re gonna be late.” Tahmoh hands Jensen his mug and pushes him towards the door, giving Jensen no time to question his behavior. “Call me at lunch if you can.”


PART FIVE.