PART THREE

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have ordered a pizza.”

“After all that work you just did?”

“Exactly,” Jensen points out, “that’s why I deserve pizza.”

Tahmoh sets the bags of food on Jensen’s kitchen counter. “I thought you liked Graze?”

“I like pizza more.” Already a little worn down, Jensen leans his forehead against Tahmoh’s shoulder. He feels a slight jostling before Tahmoh’s raises his other arm and sets a warm hand against Jensen’s cheek.

“I can’t believe you would fall asleep before food.”

Jensen soaks up the touch. His mind is disordered. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of it. Tahmoh warns that their food is getting cold (or warm in the case of Tahmoh’s protein-heavy salad) and they move to the couch. Tahmoh brings them each a glass of ice water and grabs two of Jensen’s coasters from a box on the coffee table. There's barely any room on the table between the books, Jensen's iPod, the first two seasons of Community that Jared loaned him, and one of Tahmoh's binders, but he manages to set the glasses down.

“Damn, you’re perfect.” Jensen says more to himself than anything. If Tahmoh’s casual smile is anything to go by, it wasn’t quiet enough.

“You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I feel fine.”

“You look like you’re about to slip into a coma.”

Tahmoh is right, though. The food restores some of the energy that seeped out between finishing his workout, picking up dinner, and driving back to his house. Tahmoh invited Jared to come along, but he gave the excuse that he had too much grading to catch up on. So does Jensen, to be honest. Unlike Jared, he’s willing to procrastinate.

“Hey,” Tahmoh nudges Jensen’s shoulder, drawing his eyes away from his iPad where he’s been creating lesson plans for the rest of the week. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

Tuesdays aren’t their usual sleepover night. “Don’t you have an early practice?”

Tahmoh groans. “Six a.m.”

“Sure. You can make sure my legs still work in the morning.”

“If I do my job right, you won’t be able to move anything tomorrow.” The flirty words are punctuated with a yawn, dampening their effect. They both sink further into Jensen’s couch.

Ten minutes have passed before Tahmoh speaks up again.

“Mind if I ask you something kinda weird?”

“Are we talking about kinks already?” Jensen teases.

"You mean your thing about my bronze medal?" Tahmoh laughs at Jensen's wide-eyed look and shakes his head. “We’ll save that for another night.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jensen mutters, setting his tablet aside. “What’s up?”

“You and Jared…” Tahmoh hesitates, and Jensen tries to be patient but his knee begins to shake. His stomach twists unpleasantly. “Have you guys ever hooked up?”

The question kicks Jensen in the chest. His response is honest and immediate. “No. No way—that’s never happened.” Tahmoh lets go of the breath he’s holding. “We’re just friends. Close friends, but you already know that.”

A vivid yet long-buried memory rises in the back of Jensen’s mind, but he ruthlessly shoves it back down.

“Jared’s straight,” Jensen tells him. Tahmoh makes a noise like he’s not sure whether he agrees or disagrees. “Why are you asking now?”

“Honestly? I’ve wondered for a while. And it’s not because I’m suspicious or anything,” Tahmoh clarifies. “It’s just that I’ve never seen a friendship like yours.”

Jensen’s nervous to ask, “Is it a problem?”

“Of course not.” Tahmoh grabs the front of Jensen’s hoodie and pulls him close. Jensen holds his tense frame for only a heartbeat before accepting the kiss for the apology that it is.

“I envy what you guys have,” he continues, arms keeping Jensen within reach of his lips. “I don’t have anyone like that.”

Jensen runs his fingers along the sharp cut of Tahmoh’s jaw, light brown scruff tickling his skin. He maps those strong cheekbones before leaning in again.

Their kisses wander. Tahmoh’s lips brush over his cheek before closing around the shell of Jensen’s ear, warm puffs teasing sensitive cartilage. Jensen clings to Tahmoh’s shoulders throughout the sensual assault, deep breaths knocking hard against his ribcage. When he gets the chance to turn the tables, he takes it, catching Tahmoh behind the legs and flipping him down onto his back. The bare skin between Tahmoh’s collarbones begs to be marked, and that’s where Jensen’s lips fall.

Fortunately the couch is big enough for men their size. (Jared used to complain about not being able to fit on Jensen’s old sofa—he was ecstatic when Jensen asked him to help pick out a new one.)

Suddenly Jensen remembers what prompted this make-out session. He straightens his arms and raises himself up as far as he can without actually moving off Tahmoh. His cock throbs at the sudden withdrawal of pressure.

“What would you have done if I said yes?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Tahmoh admits, voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have been upset. Part of me assumed that you and Jared had that kind of history, too. I figured things didn’t work out and you decided you were better off as friends.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Mmm yes, I’m a very lucky boyfriend.”

Realizing what he’s said, Tahmoh stiffens. Jensen could let the moment pass to give them more time to deal with the slip, but he’s unable to ignore the swell of emotion rising.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

Tahmoh turns his face into the couch cushion. “I knew you weren’t gonna let that go.”

Jensen draws Tahmoh’s gaze back to his own. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t want to see anyone else.” Tahmoh’s pale eyes are clear and focused, speaking more to Jensen’s heart than the words themselves. “I was going to bring it up this weekend.”

“Should I wait until then before I say yes?”

Evidently not. Tahmoh’s hands grip the back of Jensen’s neck and draw him into the kind of kiss that speaks volumes. Deep and confident, this kiss leaves nothing to chance or misunderstanding. Jensen returns it eagerly, tongue dancing along Tahmoh’s as their bodies respond to the mounting sensations.

Jensen wants this no matter what doubts still remain in the back of his mind. He may be over-romanticizing, but Tahmoh has brought a new kind of light into his life over the last month. He wasn’t unhappy before their blind date, but loneliness was beginning to weigh on him. Jensen doesn’t know what his life would be like right now if Jared hadn’t brought them together.

Jared. He’s the last person Jensen wants to think about right now. He throws up a wall in his mind, leaving Jared and what happened at the gym on the other side. Tonight is about Tahmoh and the acknowledgement of something special.

Tahmoh protests when Jensen moves to roll off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure that there’s nothing preventing us from spending the rest of the night in my bedroom.”

Tahmoh concedes the point. His hips knock into Jensen’s as they get to their feet; Jensen feels the hard line of his erection behind the layers of denim and cotton.

“I need to grab my bag from the car.”

“You were thinking ahead.”

“I did ask if I could spend the night,” Tahmoh points out.

Jensen locks up the house as soon as Tahmoh returns with his overnight bag.

“I’ll take care of the leftovers,” Tahmoh offers, dropping his bag by the counter. “You go relax.”

Unable to argue with an offer like that, Jensen heads upstairs. His desire surges with every step he takes towards the bedroom. It’s hardly the first time they’ve been together in Jensen’s bed, but he knows tonight is different. Arousal outweighs his nerves, both making it difficult for Jensen to concentrate on getting ready for bed.

After grabbing a specific pair of boxer briefs from his dresser (nothing wrong with wanting to show off), Jensen steps into his bathroom. He brushes his teeth and pulls a bottle of mouthwash from deep in the bathroom cabinet for good measure. He took a shower at the gym (fortunate enough to finish before Jared and Tahmoh walked in after their cool down routines, otherwise both men would’ve seen just how affected Jensen was after his workout). He washes his face anyway hoping the cool water will take some of the color out of his cheeks.

He pulls open the middle drawer and grabs the box of condoms he bought last week. No telling yet whether or not they’ll make it that far tonight—Jensen’s already wound up and ready to spring—but he’s prepared either way.

There’s a gentle knock at the bathroom door. “Falling asleep in there?”

“Be right out.” Jensen strips out of everything but his t-shirt and trades soft boxers for the form-fitting boxer-briefs. He checks himself out in the bathroom mirror, approving of the way the stretchy fabric flatters his ass. Just in case that’s Tahmoh’s objective.

Tahmoh’s slouched against the wall when Jensen steps out.

“Damn,” he curses, eyeing Jensen from head to toe. “My boyfriend is ridiculously hot.”

“Gonna keep me waiting?” Jensen asks, nodding towards the bag at Tahmoh’s feet.

“Not if I can help it.” He leans down for a kiss. Feeling playful, Jensen ducks out of the way and avoids Tahmoh’s hands.

“Don’t take too long.”

Heeding Jensen’s warning, Tahmoh disappears into the bathroom. Jensen sets the condoms on the nightstand. Deciding that might be presumptuous, he moves them to the drawer with the lube. Fuck it. He reconsiders and pulls both out.

Jensen pulls the comforter and sheet back from the head of the bed. Lying down, he gets comfortable against the pillows and does his best to relax. The thought of what might happen when Tahmoh comes out of the bathroom is enough to bring Jensen to hardness, and he rubs himself through his underwear to encourage blood flow in the right direction.

Patience is not something Jensen possesses in great quantities on a good day. Tonight, it’s nonexistent. He’s desperate for Tahmoh to join him, about to get up and barge into the bathroom to ravish him then and there.

The door opens seconds before Jensen hauls himself to his feet. He’s ready to tease Tahmoh for taking so long, but he promptly chokes on his own words.

Jensen has seen Tahmoh naked; he’s seen him aroused. But staring at him like this takes his sexiness to another level. Tahmoh stands in the doorway without a single piece of clothing on his Olympic medal-winning body. His cock is fully hard between his legs, thick with blood. Jensen could drop to his knees then and there to thank the universe for bringing this man into his life.

Tahmoh waits for his reaction, but Jensen’s speechless. He can’t stop staring at those hipbones and the smooth skin over them where Jensen enjoys laying his mouth. The valley between his abs where Jensen’s fingers like to walk. The rounded mass of his shoulders where Jensen’s teeth have left countless marks during moments of passion when he’d otherwise be screaming.

“Is all that for me?” Jensen asks when his tongue unknots itself.

Tahmoh stalks forward. “If you want it.” He crawls onto the bed, all grace and power compared to Jensen who lies there like prey.

Don’t mind him. He’s just the idiot still wearing clothes.

“Do I get to decide what I want to do with it?”

Straddling Jensen’s thighs, Tahmoh shakes his head. “I had an idea,” he says. “I thought I could do all the work tonight.”

Tahmoh takes one of Jensen’s hands and guides it around to his ass, letting Jensen’s fingers grope and knead their way in between until he feels the artificially slick and stretched skin around his entrance.

Robbed of breath, Jensen manages to ask, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” A primal urge to claim has him pressing two of his fingers into Tahmoh, finding more lube and slippery walls. The lack of resistance means Tahmoh didn’t waste his time in the bathroom.

“You don’t need to do that,” Tahmoh mutters, dropping his chin, yet he sinks ever so slightly onto Jensen’s fingers when he pushes them deeper.

“You want me to fuck you?” Jensen is so turned on, he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this.

“Figured that was pretty obvious, Jen. I meant what I said—I don’t mind doing all the work.”

He strips Jensen so they’re both naked, knees and elbows knocking together because Jensen can’t stand not touching Tahmoh for even a moment. Tahmoh uses his albatross-like reach to grab the supplies from the nightstand, sliding a condom down Jensen’s cock before applying a generous amount of lube. It’s impossible for Jensen’s cock to get any harder. Tahmoh torments him with several twisting strokes.

Jensen looks down between their bodies to where Tahmoh’s cock is leaking precome and licks his lips.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

Tahmoh kisses the offer from his mouth, tongue tracing the seam before pressing inside.

“That’s a really nice offer, but I don’t think I can last through one of your blowjobs. And that’s more of a compliment to your skills than an insult to my stamina.”

Jensen smirks. “Flatterer.”

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he adds, words trailing off into a whine as the head of Jensen’s cock flirts with his slicked hole. “Can I?”

Jensen manages to nod before his brain is overloaded with one sensation after another. Tahmoh’s sure hand gripping his cock steady as he lowers himself. Maddening constriction as the head slips through the ring of muscle to start the slow slide into Tahmoh’s body. Relief when he’s fully seated, hands swinging up to grab Tahmoh’s face and pull him into a kiss. No movement yet, only pressure—a chance for them to savor the way they fit together, filling and taking, while they write their desires into each kiss.

“Jen,” Tahmoh gasps, breaking away, “I’ve gotta move.”

Jensen has no problem with that. His head hits the pillows with a feathery thump when Tahmoh starts to ride him, muscle-bound thighs flexing with every thrust. True to his word, most of the effort belongs to Tahmoh. He controls the pace, the depth, the pressure, and Jensen doesn’t care because it’s all fucking perfect. Jensen could easily become addicted to being worshipped like this; he vows to give as good as he’s getting the next time they fuck.

He melts under Tahmoh’s attention, his cock held tight as Tahmoh drops his hips over and over. Tangling his fingers in the sheets isn't nearly as satisfying as he wants it to be, so he grips Tahmoh's thighs, kneading and flexing each time Tahmoh comes down. The dull slap of skin hitting skin fills the bedroom accompanied by Tahmoh’s ragged panting and the moans Jensen’s unable to pin behind his teeth.

Eventually, Tahmoh has Jensen so wound up with pleasure, he has to touch the man's cock before he succumbs to insanity. With one hand, he takes possession of Tahmoh’s bouncing erection, more than enough sweat and precome to make his stokes frictionless, while the other grabs Tahmoh behind the neck and draws him down.

“I can tell you’re close,” he pants, breath hitting Tahmoh’s cheek. There’s just enough room between their stomachs for Jensen to continue working his cock. Tahmoh’s chest vibrates as he tries to hold in a moan. “I want to feel you come with me inside you.”

Jensen’s never had a problem being vocal in bed, unwilling to censor himself when he feels the words on his tongue. He doesn’t need Tahmoh to respond in kind, but he’s pleased when Tahmoh arches against him, clearly affected.

“C’mon, ‘Moh. Let me feel it. You’re so fucking tight around me, driving me crazy…”

That’s all it takes. Tahmoh roars when he comes, sound hitting the walls and coming back to strike Jensen right in the chest. Before Tahmoh loses all sensation, Jensen draws from the last of his waning strength and flips them, driving his cock back into Tahmoh’s slick opening with no resistance. With Tahmoh’s body still riding the wave of orgasm, rippling around Jensen’s cock, it’s a matter of seconds before Jensen fills the condom, elbows shaking so bad he almost collapses on top of his boyfriend.

Tahmoh doesn’t appear to mind, arms winding around Jensen’s back.

“Was that my reward for going to the gym?” Jensen asks once he’s caught his breath. “If so, I can see myself working out a lot from now on.”

“If that’s the motivation you need…”

They’re tempted to lie there and bask, but clean-up trumps the afterglow. Afterward, Jensen barely makes it back to the bed before his legs give out, muscles one hundred percent done after everything he’s put them through tonight. Tahmoh slips between the sheets beside him, rolling one of Jensen’s pillows and tucking it behind his neck. Jensen can’t resist his pull. He falls asleep rolled against Tahmoh’s side, one arm over his chest.

~~~

In the morning, Tahmoh tries to slip out of bed without making a sound. Jensen must notice the shift of the mattress, because when opens his eyes expecting to see weak sunlight slanting into his bedroom, he's greeted by the dull halogen tones of the streetlight cutting through the darkness.

"I can get out through the garage," Tahmoh says quietly. "You don't need to get up."

Jensen communicates back in low non-verbal tones. Thankfully, Tahmoh gets the message.

"I'll text you after practice."

He sends Jensen back to sleep with a weightless kiss and closes the bedroom door behind him.

Jensen drifts in and out of shallow dreams for the next hour before he gives up on anything significant.

He thinks back to the night before. Not the spine-melting sex or the way it felt to fall asleep with his new boyfriend beside him, but all the way back to Tahmoh's question earlier in the evening. He never said it, but Jensen wonders if Tahmoh saw what happened at the gym last night. Jensen’s the first to admit that there was nothing innocent about the moment he and Jared shared, but Tahmoh’s timely appearance prevented the tension from turning into something none of them would be able to brush aside.

Jensen didn’t lie to Tahmoh: he and Jared have never hooked up. The guilt he feels stems from the memory he smothered last night. It occupies a hole dug deep in Jensen’s mind, buried there years ago for the sake of his friendship with Jared, but he can’t help brushing off the dirt and thinking about it now...

“Don’t worry, my roommate had to work tonight,” Jensen says as he leads the man into the apartment he shares with his best friend.

They’ve barely been able to keep their hands off each other on the five-minute walk from the bar to Jensen’s place, and that continues while Jensen tries to lock the door and toe off his shoes at the same time. Once that’s accomplished, he spins the man towards the sofa, clothes shed along the way. Jensen has no patience for drawn-out foreplay tonight. He craves what this man’s mouth promised him back at the bar: his lips around Jensen’s cock. The cheap couch creaks under their combined weight when they fall back onto it. Jensen holds the man’s head in his lap and thrusts, no thought to be gentle and the man all but demands the rough treatment. It’s not perfect, and it’s not what Jensen usually prefers. It is what he needs tonight.

When he’s close to coming, Jensen rubs one of his nipples in an attempt to sweeten the encounter. The man has a decent mouth, wet and firm and eager to take Jensen all the way down. His tongue swipes over a particularly sensitive spot and Jensen drops his head against the back of the couch. Opening his eyes, he glances towards the kitchen and feels his heart freeze in his chest.

Standing beside the counter, Jared stares back.

Breath stalls in Jensen’s lungs. The man on his knees takes it as a sign that he’s ready to come and doubles his efforts. Unable to speak beneath the weight of Jared’s stare, Jensen’s body takes what it needs, thrusting until he spills in quick spasms. The man never pulls off, just as Jensen’s eyes never leave Jared’s face. It’s too dark to make out his expression, but there’s no mistaking the placement of Jared’s hand over his dick.

Finally spent, Jensen opens his mouth to say something—he has a troubling feeling that nothing he says would help the situation. Jared has turned from him, long legs taking him down the hall towards his bedroom. Jensen picks up on the soft, telltale creak of Jared’s door shutting; the man between his legs notices nothing.

The next morning, Jensen wakes up early and makes an extra-large pot of coffee. After the blowjob, Jensen saw the man off after a quick handjob to return the favor. No plans were made to see one another again. All Jensen could think about was Jared.

His roommate shuffles into the kitchen still wiping sleep from his eyes. Minutes silently tick by as Jared pours himself a cup of coffee with his back to Jensen. Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns around.

“Sorry about last night, man.”

“I thought you were working.”

“Ivy called me at the last minute begging me to switch shifts with her,” Jared explains, “so I’m working tonight instead.”

“Oh,” Jensen says inadequately.

“Yeah, um...so I didn’t mean to, you know, last night.” Jared gestures towards the sofa.

Heat rushes to Jensen’s cheeks. “I’ll take it to my room next time.”

Jared waves off the suggestion. “I should’ve said something when I heard you come in. Or, hell, not stood there and watched.”

“Why did you?”

“Couldn’t help it,” Jared says casually. “No offense, but it was kinda hot seeing that guy blow you. Was he any good?”

“Jared—”

“Right, sorry.” Jared holds his hands up. “Looked like you were enjoying it though.” Jensen might burst into flames, he’s so embarrassed. Jared keeps pouring fuel on the fire. “Had to take care of myself after seeing that, you know what I mean?”

He pictures Jared rushing into his room, shoving his pajama pants down until he’s able to wrap one of his big hands around his dick. Would he go slowly, draw out his pleasure? Or would he fuck his hand with a purpose, so aroused after seeing Jensen that all he needs are a few rough strokes before…

Oh God. Jensen is actually going to die.

He digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of his palm, hoping the pain will interrupt the flow of blood down to his dick. He will not get turned on in their damn kitchen.

“Are you bi?” Jensen’s genuinely curious. He’s only witnessed Jared being sexually interested in women. After what he saw last night, he might need to reexamine the evidence.

Jared shrugs. “I don’t think so. I mean, yeah I was turned on—who wouldn’t be? I don’t suddenly want to, like, go out and hook up with any guys right now.”

Jensen pretends to be relieved. It’s easier than trying to figure out where his disappointment is coming from.

“Good,” he says, “‘cause I don’t need you out there stealing my dates. I’ve got enough competition on this campus as it is.”

“Shut up, Jen,” Jared teases, slapping him on the back of the shoulder as he leaves the kitchen to get dressed. “You know you’re still the prettiest.”

The man Jensen brought home was forgotten soon after the incident—his face and name lost to the passing of time. Jensen remembers the rest like it was yesterday.

By the time he’s finished reliving the memory, the sun is assaulting Jensen’s eyes and the alarm on his phone forces him to roll out of bed. He sets one foot on the floor and nearly collapses.

Everything hurts.

Fuck it. This is why Jensen never goes to the gym.

~~~

“Congratulations!” Jensen draws Boyd into a one-armed hug after he finishes telling Jensen about proposing to his longtime girlfriend the night before. “You’re a lucky man. Erica’s awesome.”

“I knew she’d say yes, but that didn’t stop me from sweating it all night.”

Usually a quiet man, Boyd’s been a fountain of excited words ever since Jensen stepped into the teacher’s lounge during his free period.

“Erica doesn’t want a long engagement,” Boyd tells him. “Between last night and this morning she already picked out the venue, the photographer, and the caterer.”

“Just leave it all up to her,” Jensen suggests. His sister had single-handedly planned their older brother’s wedding and her own within a span of less than two years. He’s well aware that men just get in the way. “It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re definitely invited. I hear you’re dating someone now, too.”

Jensen startles. “How’d you hear about that?”

“Jared mentioned setting you guys up on a blind date,” Boyd tells him. “Is it serious?”

“Yeah, Tahmoh’s my boyfriend now—”

Something ceramic clunks against the counter in the lounge’s kitchenette. Jared sticks his head around the cabinets. Jensen shakes his head. What is it with his best friend and hiding in fucking kitchens? Seriously.

“Sorry, dropped my mug,” Jared says, holding up the offending item.

“I didn’t know you were back there.”

“Needed some caffeine. Worked it a little too hard at the gym last night—couldn’t get much sleep.”

Jensen swallows. Boyd doesn’t pick up on the static between his fellow teachers.

Jared finds his voice once Boyd’s gone. “Guess I need to congratulate you, too. You and Tahmoh made it official, huh? That’s great.”

He looks and sounds genuine. Jensen has a hard time finding something that would give Jared away. He finally sees it in the white-knuckled grip Jared’s got on his mug.

“It just kind of happened,” Jensen admits like nothing’s wrong. If he stays the course, maybe everything will go back to normal. “Tahmoh didn’t mean to bring it up, but I was happy that he did. It’s been official in my mind for a while now anyway.”

“So I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night either,” Jared teases, taking the same road to denial as Jensen. “Are you sore?”

“Why would you—”

“From the gym, Jen. Your legs probably feel like slow-drying cement right now.”

Their workout. Right. “Kinda feels like my entire body is bruised.”

“Work through it a little bit tonight,” Jared suggests. “Lots of stretching and maybe a light run, nothing strenuous. Just enough to keep your muscles loose.”

The thought of more exercise makes Jensen want to cry. He nods. “Feel like hanging out tonight?”

“You and Tahmoh aren’t going out to celebrate?”

“He’s driving down to Monroe after practice tonight for a regional coaches meeting in the morning, so I’m free to do whatever.”

“Put me down as a definite maybe,” Jared says, grinning. He pours himself some coffee before offering the carafe to Jensen.

Jensen texts Jared throughout the afternoon during lunch and between classes, and they agree to meet at Troubadour’s to catch up on work before anything else. He’s thought up a whole evening’s worth of potential plans. When he asks Jared to come over for pizza and a movie, Jared claims he has to grade assignments from the previous week.

“Go for a jog, do not eat pizza, and text me later. Okay?”

There’s nothing Jensen can do so he agrees, but he doesn’t feel good about it. A quick jog around his neighborhood does make him feel a little bit better (especially since he didn’t think his legs were going to cooperate) and he texts Jared a quick thanks before he orders a pizza—about which he definitely does not text Jared or Tahmoh.

Told you so, Jared texts back, and that’s the last time Jensen hears from him for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Jared calls out sick.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Jensen’s life is a progression of highs and low, both personally and professionally.

Four of his favorite students are accepted into Ivy League schools, while another loses their mother to breast cancer and is forced to move away to live with his father and stepmother. Tahmoh is there for Jensen after the funeral, countering the sadness with the story of his teammate’s full recovery from testicular cancer. Jared, along with several other teachers, attends the funeral, but he begs off plans for the same night.

Once Jensen’s muscles have recovered from the initial strain, Tahmoh convinces him to visit the gym again. Slowly but surely, he’s starting to enjoy the workouts, thanks in no small part to being able to watch his ridiculously hot boyfriend work out at the same time. Jensen fends off any desirous glances with well-timed displays of affection.

Jensen’s never dated a man who’s so comfortable showing affection in public, and he seizes opportunities to touch his boyfriend. Tahmoh is the complete opposite of Aiden, who refused to let anyone find out he liked guys. Jensen adores how Tahmoh is always willing to show Jensen how he feels, whether they're with other people or alone in a world of two. The only other person Jensen’s ever been that affectionate with is Jared.

“I’d tell you if I didn’t like it,” Tahmoh promises when Jensen asks him about it. “I grew up with my team, you know? I had to get comfortable being around so many people. Are you comfortable with it?” he asks. “I’m willing to keep my hands to myself if that’s what you prefer.”

Jensen’s kiss is the equivalent of saying don’t you dare.

One of the reasons Jensen doesn’t say no to the gym—one he won’t admit to Tahmoh—is that it’s one of the few times he can see Jared outside of Hallgrove. He’s not always there, but it’s enough to keep Jensen from sinking too severely into best friend withdrawal. Unlike the first gym visit, however, Tahmoh is the only one getting up close and personal with Jensen when he tries a new machine. Probably for the best. Jensen continues to watch Jared, though, ready to pounce if he shows any sign of wanting to talk about what’s gotten him so unnerved lately.

Tahmoh cautions him. “He knows you’ll be there for him,” he tells Jensen as they’re sitting in his car. Again, Jared snuck out of the gym without saying goodbye to either of them. “He must not be ready to open up about whatever it is.”

“But you’re worried, too. Right?”

Tahmoh assures Jensen that he is. Jared’s been responding to texts that Tahmoh sends him. His answer’s always the same whenever Tahmoh brings up potential plans.

Jared continues to visit Jensen’s classroom once a week to share a takeout lunch. Fearful of saying something that might cause Jared to pull further away, Jensen keeps the conversation superficial. Jared asks about Tahmoh. Jensen assumes he’s trying to be polite. He has a strange feeling that Tahmoh is involved in whatever is affecting Jared.

He even invites Jensen to meet him at Troubadour’s for coffee and mutual procrastination. Sitting at their favorite table, poking fun at each other’s drinks, everything feels like it’s back to normal. Jensen’s merely a guy hanging out with his best friend, thinking about what he’s going to do when he sees his boyfriend later that night. When it’s time to leave, Jared’s mood is darker than the coffee Jensen drinks. It makes Jensen want to kidnap him, take him home—at least then he’d be able to keep an eye on Jared, see what the hell’s going on.

He lets Jared go, smile feeling false on his face, and calls Tahmoh on the way home.

Less than a week later, one of Tahmoh’s friends invites them to the VIP opening of his new bar. When Tahmoh picks him up for the upscale affair, Jensen reconsiders going. Wearing a sleek gray suit over a crisp white shirt, Tahmoh looks edible. His collar’s open so Jensen can see the edge of a bruise he left below his scapula the night before.

“Think your friend will mind if we’re a little late?” Jensen asks. Tahmoh grins and follows Jensen back into the house.

They do arrive late, but Tahmoh’s friend Jamie doesn’t seem to mind. The handsome, wavy-haired bar owner greets Tahmoh with a back-slapping hug, welcomes Jensen with a firm handshake.

“Tahmoh’s told me a lot about you,” Jamie says, blue eyes sparkling. Like Tahmoh, Jamie’s voice carries the hint of an accent. “You two enjoy yourselves tonight, alright? For you, it’s all on the house.”

Jensen can see himself coming back to Jamie’s place in the future. The vibe is definitely gay-friendly, though there are more than a few women amongst the VIPs wearing clothing and jewelry that probably costs more than Jensen’s yearly salary. He and Tahmoh enjoy craft cocktails made with freshly pressed juices and laugh with the other guests. Little by little, the dance floor begins to fill up, and Jensen’s had just enough to drink to want to get out there.

“I won’t say no to that,” Tahmoh says when Jensen poses the idea.

The beat is heavy and seductive, not fast and frantic like some of the clubs Jensen’s hit up in the past. Everyone on the dance floor is paired up, drawn together by the music or something stronger. Jensen seeks no further than Tahmoh’s arms around his waist, his own wrapped over Tahmoh’s shoulders, completing the circle.

They sway with the music, hips brushing now and then, never more than a tease. Thanks to their pre-VIP activities, Jensen can afford to be patient. He enjoys being this close to Tahmoh, letting the weight of the last few weeks drain away. Staring into his boyfriend’s eyes, nothing but desire and admiration gazing back, Jensen’s happy.

And he has Jared to thank for it.

Jensen has fond memories of dancing in clubs with Jared, going back to a time when they lived together. Sometimes they went out with the intent of getting laid—other times they were too restless to stay in their apartment and study. They always had fun whether they flew as wingmen for one another or just let loose for the night.

Jared was a great dancer, graceful despite his height and general ridiculousness. When Jared was aiming to hook up, he never had a problem finding a willing partner. Jensen preferred the kind of night when all he and Jared wanted was a release from the pressures of grad school or job searches or teaching. Those were the nights he had Jared all to himself; his best friend would shrug and say he wasn’t interested in meeting anyone, dancing long past midnight, holding Jensen against his solid, sweaty chest whenever someone attempted to come between them.

Those were good nights when they let the alcohol mellow their stress until they cared about nothing but each other. Jensen used to wonder why Jared was willing to give up the near-guarantee of sex to dance with him. He put it down to the bond of best friends and more than a few beers.

Tonight, the chest pressed against his back is just as solid, albeit not as sweaty. Tahmoh’s lips at his ear bring him back into the moment.

“We should go dancing more often,” he says. The beat downshifts to a slower throb and he leans closer. Other couples do the same until the dance floor is a gently moving wave. “You’re unbelievably sexy when you dance.”

You should see Jared, he wants to say.

Later, after Tahmoh drives them back to the house and they succumb to the fire that dancing ignited in the privacy of Jensen’s bedroom, Jensen revisits the memories of nights out with Jared. The wild fun they used to have; the way they didn’t need anyone outside of one another to have a good time, no matter where they were.

In that moment, with Tahmoh sleeping beside him, Jensen vows to do whatever it takes to show Jared that he loves him, values him, and desperately misses his presence. He has to try, because Jared is worth it.

Jensen puts his plan into action the next day at Hallgrove. When he finds Jared in the lounge before first period, Jensen teases him about the lavender shirt he’s wearing.

“Does that shirt smell as pretty as it looks?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Jared asks, pouring a cup of coffee. He takes Jensen’s mug and starts filling it without asking. “The guy at the store said it was a hot new color.”

“For babies’ rooms and nail polish,” Jensen counters. “You look like a Hallmark sympathy card.”

“So you’re saying I’m sensitive and poetic?”

Jensen laughs, touches Jared’s arm while he prepares Jensen’s coffee exactly the way he likes it, and asks Jared if he received Erica and Boyd’s ‘Save the Date’ card yet.

It’s a start.

He tries to be more affectionate, flirting with Jared the way he used to before he started dating Tahmoh. Back when he never gave it a second thought—it was just the way they were. He invites Jared to dinner, to the movies, to coffee, accepting whatever excuse Jared gives him with a smile and a promise that they’ll go out some other time. Only Tahmoh sees how disappointed Jensen is whenever Jared turns him down.

His persistence pays off a week later when Jared texts Jensen and Tahmoh about a new restaurant near his place. They’re seated on the wide patio, colorful umbrellas shielding their skin from the late afternoon sun while they split a bottle of red wine—Jared’s choice—and a plate of Thai-spiced wings.

It’s exactly how Jensen used to imagine them spending time together after he started dating Tahmoh. Just the three of them. Jensen doesn’t want to explore why, but he’s always assumed that Jared would be wherever he was, no significant other in the picture.

The only odd moment comes after they’ve eaten. There’s a little wine left in each of their glasses when Jensen excuses himself to go to the men’s room, leaving Jared and Tahmoh talking about the new equipment being installed at their gym. When Jensen returns, he sees his boyfriend and his best friend turned towards one another, closer than they were sitting when Jensen walked away. Tahmoh’s hand rests on Jared’s shoulder, his head bowed while he listens to what Tahmoh is saying.

Whatever is passing between them must be serious. Jensen hasn’t seen Jared’s expression this flat all night. Tahmoh’s gaze is soft and sympathetic, but his other hand is clenched tightly on his lap underneath the table. Jared mutters something too low for Jensen to overhear, causing Tahmoh to shake his head and squeeze Jared’s shoulder. Jensen wants to know what they’re saying, why their expressions are so deflated, and their gestures cautious.

They pull apart before Jensen can read anything else from their body language, and the two of them are nothing but smiles when Jensen gets back to the table.

~~~

“Please tell me that I’m not the worst role model in history." Even over the phone, Jensen can hear the frustration in Tahmoh's voice.

Jensen switches his phone from his right to left hand. “I think it’s actually pretty smart of you. I know exactly what high school students are capable of when left alone in hotel rooms on an overnight trip.”

“I’m just waiting for a parent to call the school because their kid ratted me out.”

“I don’t think any of your swimmers would admit to getting condoms from their swim coach,” Jensen tells Tahmoh. “And you’re not the one handing them out, right?”

“I gave them to Nolan and Trix,” he says. Jensen knows those are the captains of the boys’ and girls’ teams, respectively. “I trust them.”

“Even if someone did tell their parents, it’s a hell of a lot better than a parent figuring out their son or daughter had unprotected sex during a swim meet trip.”

He hears Tahmoh sigh. “You’re right, thanks.”

It’s been almost a full day since Jensen spoke to his boyfriend courtesy of the regional swim meet taking Tahmoh out of town for a few days. Jensen doesn’t envy him or Felicia (along with two other assistant coaches and four parent chaperones) having to keep an eye on nearly fifty swimmers for three days and two nights. He was happy to see Tahmoh’s name and photo pop up on his caller ID while he was grading pop quizzes.

Tahmoh tells him about the bus ride and having to share pool space with three other Class A teams during a limited practice session. A group of swim parents that drove up with the caravan were nice enough to arrange a casual buffet dinner in one of the hotel’s conference rooms for the whole team, saving Tahmoh from figuring out how to feed fifty carbo-loading high school students.

“So everyone’s in their rooms?”

“They should be,” Tahmoh mutters. “Curfew was twenty minutes ago. I’ll roam around in fifteen minutes or so, make sure no one’s trying to sneak out.”

“How about I help you relax a little ‘til then?” Jensen offers. He discovered his kink for phone sex when he was dating Aiden, but it’s been years since he’s done it with anyone and he’s eager to put rusty skills to use.

“Wow.” Tahmoh sounds breathless. “Are you kidding with me?”

“Not at all, I really want–”

Jensen’s phone vibrates against his cheek. When sees Jared’s name flashing on the screen, his heart immediately skips a beat.

“Hey Moh? Jared’s calling me.”

“Do you need to answer it?”

“I do. He always texts—he hates calling people.”

Tahmoh sounds hopeful. “Call me back later?”

“Definitely.”

Jensen quickly accepts Jared’s call before he’s redirected into voicemail.

“Jared?”

“I need you t’come pick me up.” His voice is slow, like he’s trying to enunciate, but heavily slurred.

Jensen is already on his feet, quizzes falling to the floor. “What happened? Where are you?”

“Mack took m’keys,” Jared whines. “I don’t wanna take a cab.”

“Mack?” Jensen only knows one guy named Mack—a bartender at one of clubs Jensen and Jared used to hit up together. Decent guy, but ugly as sin. “Are you at Diamond Hill?”

Jared makes a sound that could be construed as a yes. “Mack’s such n’asshole, he—hey!” There’s a scuffle on the line before Jensen hears a different voice. “Is this Jensen?” Mack’s smoker’s growl is easy to recognize. “Jared’s had a few too many to drive, and he won’t let me call him a cab. You mind coming to get him?”

“It’s only 10:30. How long has he been there?”

“Since 7:00. Came in just after we opened. Gotta say I was surprised to see him,” Mack says. “Though a few of his guys were pretty happy to see him again.”

Jensen pauses as he’s reaching for his car keys. “Wait. What guys?”

“Drinking buddies. A couple of ‘em that he used to hook up with, I think.”

Jensen’s entire body goes cold. He stays on the phone long enough to tell Mack he’ll be there as soon as he can and not to let Jared leave. The only thing that keeps Jensen from losing it in the car on the way over are the deep, even breaths he forces on himself.

~~~

“Help me out here, man,” Jensen groans, attempting to kick his front door shut with 200 pounds hanging on his shoulder. (Thank god for those gym sessions.) When he manages that, he shuffles as quickly as he can towards the couch where he dumps Jared.

Jensen pins his rant behind his teeth in favor of bringing Jared a bottle of water and two ibuprofen. Sitting on the coffee table, he spends a few moments watching the rise and fall of Jared’s chest.

Diamond Hill—just the Hill to most of its customers—has a certain reputation. No one went to the Hill for their drink selection. You went there to get laid.

Walking in triggered a cascade of hazy memories. Jared never let Jensen go to the Hill alone; it didn’t matter whether he was looking for a date to take home or something as simple and mindless as decent head in the men’s room. Sometimes Jared found a hook-up, too—the Hill wasn’t strictly a gay scene—but he mostly went to make sure Jensen made it home alright.

Why Jared went there tonight, Jensen has no idea. He’d changed since the last time Jensen saw him at Hallgrove. Slacks traded for worn jeans—Jensen knew that pair in particular was threadbare around the back—and button-down switched out for a faded band t-shirt that used to fit Jared before he started hitting the gym so much.

It was an outfit Jensen might’ve worn back in the day when he was looking to let off a little steam. Seeing it on Jared, Jensen wanted to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out of the club. How dare he come to a sleazy place like this? And what the hell was he looking for dressed like that?

This brought Jensen back to what Mack told him over the phone.

“What’s going on with you, Jay…” Jensen whispers, fingers playing with a loose thread of worn denim over Jared’s knee. Given that Jared doesn’t seem to recognize where he is, Jensen assumes he’s talking to himself. He’s surprised when Jared starts to mutter.

“‘s this your couch, Jen?”

“Yeah, Jay. I brought you home with me.”

“Mmkay,” Jared sighs, “tha’s good. I like being here.”

“That’s good.” Jensen tries to soothe him. Pushes hair away from Jared’s face with gentle fingers. “You wanna talk about it?”

“‘bout what?”

“For starters, why were you at the Hill tonight?”

“Figured I’d meet someone,” Jared says. He rolls his face away from the cushion and accepts the water and pills. Once he’s swallowed, he blinks and looks around the room. “Moh here?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Regional meet. He won’t be back for a couple of days.”

“Won’t he mind that ‘m here?”

“Of course not,” Jensen insists. “He likes you, Jay. We’ve both missed hanging out with you.” Emotion crests over Jensen like a wave. He wants to wrap Jared in his arms and keep him right here, safe. He hangs his head, defeated, feeling like the worst friend in the world.

A wide palm settles on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jen.”

“For what?” Even to his own ears, Jensen’s voice sounds wrecked.

“For messin’ stuff up,” he says. “For getting in the way.”

Jensen leans into Jared’s touch, their knees knocking together between the table and the couch. “You haven’t messed anything up, Jay. Why would you think that?”

“Kept you all to myself.” He hesitates as if Jensen’s supposed to know what that means. “It was good though, wasn’t it? Just you ‘n me?”

Jensen nods.

“Things’re different now, y’know?” He’s still slurring some of his words, though his eyes have begun to clear. He looks earnestly across at Jensen. “You were spending so much time w’me, I felt bad.”

“I like spending time with you,” Jensen points out. “I always have.”

Jared smiles. “Then I got to know Moh.” He follows the nickname with a wistful sigh. “Thought I could make it up t’you.”

Jensen gasps, putting pieces together. “You set me up with Tahmoh as an apology? Jared, that’s—” He doesn’t know what to say. That it was crazy? Jensen didn’t need dates to make up for faults only Jared sees.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

For a moment Jared sounds like he hasn’t spent the majority of the night drinking at a club notorious for its easy patrons. This brings up another point…

“You said you wanted to meet someone tonight. Were you talking about a woman, or—”

Jared slumps. “Think you already know the answer.”

“A guy,” Jensen says with barely any breath in his lungs. “You wanted to hook up with a guy. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Danger signs flash in Jensen’s head as he shifts from sitting on the coffee table to the couch. He ignores the warnings. Pressed against the side of Jared’s body from knee to shoulder, Jared uses Jensen as an anchor.

“I remember everything you told me ‘bout Aiden. How he never got over his confusion ‘bout whether he wanted to be with a guy or not. Stupid closeted fuck," Jared hisses. "I know how much that hurt, Jen. When y’all broke up, I swore I’d never let anyone do that t’you ever again.”

“Jared—”

“Even if that guy was me.”

Jensen’s ready when Jared falls into his arms, chest heaving. He’s not crying. More like swallowing too much air with every gasp. Jensen holds Jared until he calms, stroking one hand through his hair the way he used to when Jared had a rough night out.

He’s so thrown he can barely hold a thought in his head. Jared isn’t straight, and he never told Jensen. What’s worse, Jensen never noticed. The curiosity stabs him through the heart.

“How long?”

“Couple a’years,” Jared tells him. “Not all the time.”

The second question is more difficult. “Was there ever anyone serious?”

Jared turns his head against Jensen’s shoulder and gazes up. “Never. I liked it, but I only did it when I felt restless, or—”

He cuts himself off, but Jensen knows what he was about to say.

“Or when you were around Tahmoh and me too much. I’m so sorry, Jared. I never knew.”

“I wanted to keep it that way.” Jared attempts to sit up under his own power. He half-succeeds, swaying a bit until Jensen nudges him towards the cushions. “That’s part of the reason I set you up with Tahmoh, y’know? I knew you were kinda lonely and it was only a matter of time ‘til I caved and tried to start something.”

That sets Jensen’s thoughts swirling again. If Jared hadn’t set Tahmoh in his path, he and Jared might have—

Six months ago, Jensen would have celebrated this information. His feelings for Jared were a part of him, though he’d learned to live without thinking about them every day. He never stopped hoping that one day Jared would realize they were perfect for one another. Or that neither one of them would find a partner who loved them as all-encompassingly as they loved each other. Jared used to joke about being Jensen’s platonic life-partner; Jensen figured it was more of an actual possibility.

Until Tahmoh. Jensen’s self-aware enough to know that he’s a hair’s breadth from falling in love with the man.

The man he hasn’t so much as texted since Jared interrupted their phone call.

“Promise me you’re not gonna let this mess up your relationship with Moh,” Jared pleads, suddenly earnest. “He’s a good guy.”

“I know.”

“You’re much better for him than I would’a been.”

Jensen’s going to die right here on his own couch. “You were interested in Tahmoh?”

Jared frowns at him. “Figured you knew that. He’s the first guy who made me feel even a fraction of what I feel about you. But it was never gonna work.”

“How do you know?” Jensen has no idea why he’s encouraging this line of discussion. Is he really asking his best friend why he didn’t hook up with his boyfriend when he had the chance?

What would that have done to Jensen? Just the thought of seeing Jared with a random guy brings Jensen to Hulk-smash levels of rage. But knowing Tahmoh as well as he does, Jensen understands that he would’ve been good for Jared, leaving Jensen out in the cold.

And suddenly Jensen is sickeningly attuned to how Jared must’ve felt over the last few months.

Oh my god.

Jared never responds. With a long yawn, he drops his head against the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut. Jensen knows from experience that he’s not long for consciousness. One minute, it’ll seem like Jared has rallied—awake and engaged—and the next he’ll be asleep on the nearest horizontal surface. Sure enough, he begins to topple off the couch. Jensen grabs him before his head hits the table.

Without Tahmoh, there’s no way he’ll be able to get Jared upstairs to the guestroom on his own, but since he bought this couch with Jared in mind, he doesn’t have to fold his friend’s monster limbs to lay him out straight. After pulling off Jared’s boots and setting his watch and cell phone on the coffee table, Jensen makes a quick stop upstairs for a down comforter and a couple of squishy pillows. He’ll do what he can to make Jared comfortable in preparation for the hangover he’s bound to have tomorrow.

By the time Jensen makes it up to his own bed, it’s well past midnight. Though he's drained both physically and mentally, sleep is a long way off. Part of him wants to text Tahmoh; his phone is in his hand before he decides against it. He'd feel terrible if he woke Tahmoh up with everything he's got going on tomorrow with the swim meet.

Jensen suffers alone, separated from the two men he cares most for in the world—one halfway across the state and the other a staircase away, yet still unreachable.


PART FOUR.