PART TWO

Jensen claims the last available table in Troubadour’s, his favorite local coffeehouse, setting two cups on the scratched, well-loved wood. One a Cafe Mocha, sweetness hidden behind a plain paper mug. The other a hideously pink frap-something concoction involving cotton candy and caffeine near which Jensen is embarrassed to be seen.

Jared has the worst taste in coffee house drinks. He’s also late.

Pulling out his iPad, Jensen scans through his students’ essay submissions, taking notes separately. His back celebrates this kind of technology and not having dozens of paper assignments to carry to and from Hallgrove every day, but he’s always appreciated the simple sensation of putting pen to paper.

He gets through two assignments before Jared swings his bag onto an empty chair.

“Sorry, I had to call Robin’s parents about his missing papers. They had no clue he wasn’t turning in assignments.”

“Everything go okay?” Jensen asks.

Jared shrugs and pushes a lock of hair away from his face. “They gave me an excuse about the stress of college applications and I had to remind them that grades still matter.” The resignation in his voice is familiar to Jensen. They all have to deal with their share of college-hungry parents who hold college applications above schoolwork.

“Hey, you got my drink.” Jared sucks the straw between his lips while Jensen tries not to gag at the imagined taste. He’s just glad Jared’s here.

It’s been almost two weeks since Jensen’s blind date, nearly that long since he and Jared spent time together outside of Hallgrove. Jensen called him Sunday morning to tell him about the swim meet he’d gone to, but Jared never called him back. Texts went unanswered. Monday came with excuses—Jared said he’d needed to take care of something involving his family and promised he’d come to Jensen’s house that night to catch up on some DVR’ed episodes of their favorite show.

That never happened.

Jared wasn’t just dodging Jensen, either. Tahmoh’s texts were met with silence, too. He wasn’t as freaked out as Jensen, however.

“Maybe he thinks he’s being considerate,” Tahmoh speculated over the phone after Jensen asked if he’d seen Jared at the gym. “Giving us space, you know?”

Jensen didn’t respond to that. He supposed it was possible—Jensen wasn’t keeping his feelings for Tahmoh a secret—but Jared never acted this way when Jensen dated other guys in the past.

“I thought you were gonna stand me up again,” Jensen says.

“I said I was sorry about last week. Family stuff, you know?”

Jensen doesn’t mention that he'd texted Jared's brother and sister to make sure everything was okay with the extended Padalecki clan. According to Jeff and Megan, Jared was ignoring most of their messages, too. After that discovery, Jensen was determined to get Jared to hang out with him regardless of excuses. He aimed for Jared’s weakness: Jensen himself.

“You know I can’t go to Troubadour’s by myself,” Jensen had implored when he cornered Jared in the hallway outside the teacher’s lounge earlier that day. “You can’t leave me alone with my vices!” Which was true; without Jared there to curb him, Jensen would order enough coffee to power a small army.

Still, Jared tried to wiggle his way out. “I’m sure Tahmoh would go with you.”

“I’m asking you, dumbass,” Jensen cursed, fed-up yet keeping the annoyance out of his voice, “and we’re going this afternoon. I’ve got a lot of grading to do and I can’t get anything done at home.”

Now that he finally has Jared in front of him, Jensen’s not sure what to say. This is a complication he never expected. Their friendship has been free of bumps and sharp curves for years.

Jared starts pulling out his own work. “How’s Tahmoh?”

“Really good. Four more of his swimmers qualified for the state championships at their last meet. So now he’s qualified more swimmers this year than any other year in Calhoun’s history, and there are still three meets left this season.”

Jensen grins remembering how he and Tahmoh celebrated the achievement. Calhoun’s away meet was too far for Jensen to reasonably attend, but he told Tahmoh to come to the house no matter how late he got back. That was only the third time Tahmoh spent the night, but Jensen was already comfortable with Tahmoh in his house, his space, his bed.

The following morning, he and Tahmoh went to brunch where they ordered three full plates and split everything. Jensen pretended to swoon when Tahmoh left him the last piece of bacon (Jared would have never let Jensen have it). Rather than rushing off after eating, they sat at their table talking as the brunch rush slowly trickled to nothing around them. Conversation flowed from one topic to another. Jensen went on about his favorite satirical works, which somehow led to talking about comedians they both enjoyed. Tahmoh told him more about his twin sisters, and they spent half an hour swapping crazy sibling stories.

Jensen absorbed every detail, eager to learn.

Later that week, Tahmoh came over despite being exhausted from pushing himself a little too hard between the pool and the gym and a suboptimal amount of sleep. It didn’t bother Jensen that they never got around to having sex that night, happy to order take-out and watch television. Although Tahmoh still had enough energy to make out with Jensen on the couch after dinner until he needed to leave.

He looks over to see if Jared’s noticed the way his thoughts have drifted, but Jared’s eyes are on his papers, the end of his pen pressed to the corner of his mouth. A common habit, but Jensen finds himself drawn to the way Jared’s lips are slightly parted, the unconscious movement of his pen slowly being drawn across his bottom lip.

Looking at his best friend, Jensen starts to feel guilty. There were plenty of opportunities when he could’ve made plans with Jared over the last week instead of seeing Tahmoh, but Jensen's been in the glow of a new relationship. And Jared hasn’t exactly been knocking down his door. Still, perhaps it’s not Jared’s fault...

His thoughts are given voice before Jensen can hold them back. “Do you think I’ve been avoiding you?”

“Hmm?” Jared meets his eyes. The furrow between his brows deepens. “What are you talking about?”

“With Tahmoh,” Jensen explains. “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

He sees Jared’s defenses go up, gaze sharpening. “I never said that. I’m not a kid whining for attention, Jen.”

“Whoa, Jared…” Jensen holds his hands up to deflect, surprised at how quickly Jared jumped to the incorrect conclusion. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Is that why you wanted to meet me here? To make sure I was okay with your new relationship?”

“I invited you because I wanted to see you,” Jensen hisses in an attempt to keep from being overheard. Troubadour’s is full this time of the afternoon, but still… “Call me fucking crazy, but I miss you.”

“I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, a lot you’re not telling me about, Jay.” The nickname slips out whenever Jensen’s feeling emotional over his best friend, with now standing as a perfect example. “You’ve always been able to talk to me, so what’s changed?”

Jared drops his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“That’s ridiculous. You know I’m gonna worry anyway,” Jensen assures him. “Is this about me dating again? You had to figure there was a chance of that happening when you set me up with Tahmoh.”

“It’s not about Tahmoh.”

“Good, because I really like him.” Jensen can’t fight the smile the admission brings to his face. “I hated the idea of a blind date when you brought it up, but you did a damn good job. He’s a great guy, but it seems like you don’t want me to talk about him. He was your friend first,” Jensen reminds him, “I don’t want to come between you guys.”

Jared’s stony expression softens. He reaches for Jensen’s hand across the table. “You haven’t.”

“Then tell me how to fix whatever this is, and I’ll try to do it. If you want me to make plans with you before Tahmoh—”

“Jen, stop it. You don’t need to do anything for me.” The strain in Jared’s voice is obvious to Jensen, but he doesn’t comment. “I knew you and Tahmoh would hit it off. That’s why I set you up with him.”

“Sounds like you had to convince him.”

“I had to convince you, too,” Jared points out, “but I wasn’t trying to convince him. If he said no, that’s his loss. But I like talking about you, and Tahmoh wanted to hear it. I’m glad it’s working out,” he adds, “and maybe I’ve been giving you a little bit of space so that I’m not getting in the way.”

Seems like Tahmoh had the way of things after all.

“Like I said, you’re crazy. I don’t need space from you, and I definitely don’t want to keep you and Tahmoh in separate corners of my life. I thought going out with him would be easier since y’all were already friends.”

Jared leans back in his chair. Their work lies ignored on the table. So much for grading.

“I’ve really messed things up, huh?”

Shaking his head, Jensen says, “It’s a weird situation.”

“Is it? This isn’t the first time you’ve dated a guy I know.”

“Tahmoh’s your friend, not just a guy in one of your classes or a random coworker. Things are bound to be a little weird.” Jensen grins. “At least we’re dealing with this now and not further down the road. Just...just promise me that you’ll say something if things get weird again, okay?”

“You just seem really happy,” Jared says, “I didn’t want to distract you from that.”

“How happy do you think I can be when you’re not around?” Jensen points out. He’s never gone more than two weeks without seeing Jared since he moved into Jensen’s apartment when they started going to the same grad school. “And you haven’t agreed to my promise yet.”

Jared concedes easily, his smile finally reaching his eyes. “Fine, I promise not to be a shithead about your relationship.”

“And to talk to me before you start avoiding me again.”

“That too.” Stretching his arms, Jared hauls himself out of the chair.

“Wait, are you leaving?”

“Just grabbing you another cup of coffee,” Jared says. “We’re gonna be here awhile and I’m pretty sure yours has gone cold.”

“Nothing crazy,” Jensen tells him as he heads for the counter. “And nothing pink!”

~~~~~

Jensen is held prisoner by the pressure of pink lips around his cock, strong hands kneading the back of his thighs. If he looks down, he won't be able to last: the sight of a tall, beautiful man kneeling before him would unravel him faster than a tongue slipping beneath the crown. Proving to Tahmoh that he has stamina seems like the better option.

Tahmoh takes this as a personal challenge, applying every skill he's learned and treating Jensen to the filthiest, wettest blowjob he's ever received. Jensen's not really a fan of unenthusiastic head (well, he likes it less than other pleasures), but it's as if Tahmoh is seeking to erase every other experience from Jensen's mind.

And fuck if he's not succeeding.

The bathroom counter assaults his spine, but Jensen barely notices the cold granite cutting into his skin. He'll take the certain bruise as a memento on which to think back. A draft from the open bathroom door rushes over Jensen’s shoulders causing him to shudder. His skin hasn’t even dried from his shower—Tahmoh swept him up as soon as Jensen stepped out of the glass stall with only a towel around his waist.

Tahmoh mistakes the shiver for discomfort and pulls his mouth away. “Should I do something else?”

Jensen drops his chin and tries not to fucking whine at the hazy arousal in Tahmoh’s eyes. “If you don’t keep going I’m going to drown you in the bathtub.” An empty threat since his bones have the consistency of Jell-O right now, but Tahmoh teases him for it regardless. Jensen’s cock on his lips makes for a pretty picture, and this is exactly why Jensen was trying not to look. He remains on edge even without his dick hitting the back of Tahmoh’s throat. Broad shoulders bare beneath Jensen’s hands, Tahmoh is only half naked, loose flannel bottoms cushioning his knees from the rough weave of the bathroom rug.

It's strange to feel the wet rub of Tahmoh’s bottom lip against the underside of Jensen’s cock. Like a tongue only softer, not as deliberate. Jensen wants to be back in the molten heat of his mouth before the rush in his blood ebbs away. Quick half-thrusts of his hips must get the message across because within the next breath Tahmoh sucks him down. Further than he did before, Jensen’s thrust combined with an open throat. Jensen sends a quick hallelujah skyward when Tahmoh not only doesn’t gag, but keeps pressure on Jensen’s ass preventing him from pulling away.

The meaning is clear.

Jensen starts fucking his mouth as gently as possible, slow undulations that give Tahmoh plenty of time to adjust if he needs it. Stamina be damned, Jensen won’t last long. Not with Tahmoh moaning each time Jensen fucks deep, his fingers curling into the cleft of Jensen’s ass once he no longer needs to encourage with firm hands.

They haven’t progressed to full penetrative sex yet, and Jensen is perfectly content to wait. Especially since what they have done has been fantastic, worthy of a standing ovation if Jensen could ever manage to use his legs after Tahmoh gets him off.

One hard suck hits Jensen exactly in the right spot, and suddenly he’s cresting. “‘-moh, I’m gonna…” he warns, forcing Tahmoh to pull off seconds before Jensen comes all over his chest. Jensen’s surprised he has anything left after the night before, but the sight of white drops staining Tahmoh’s smooth skin is almost enough for Jensen to wish he could get hard again.

Though another orgasm would probably kill him.

Jensen wonders what it means that Tahmoh already knows to stand up and wrap his arms around Jensen before his knees buckle. As miraculous as the blowjob was, swaying lightly in Tahmoh’s arms takes his breath away.

“Did you call me Moh?”

It takes a few heartbeats for Jensen’s brain to come back online. “Hmm?”

“When you came, I thought I heard…”

“Oh.” Jensen remembers trying to say Tahmoh’s name when his breath got in the way. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tahmoh whispers, turning his mouth to rub delicately across Jensen’s cheek. “I don’t mind. Tahmoh can be kind of a mouthful.”

Jensen rocks his soft cock against the front of Tahmoh’s pants. “Yeah, you are.”

Suddenly Tahmoh’s shoulders are shaking. Not with lust but with amusement. “You couldn’t let that one go, huh?”

Not a chance, Jensen thinks. “You gonna shower?”

Tahmoh leans back so that Jensen can see the shiny streaks of come remaining on his skin.

“Obviously.”

Jensen lets him step out of the embrace. “I’ll make breakfast. Want some coffee? I bought more French roast.”

Tahmoh smiles. “Definitely.”

After throwing on a clean t-shirt and boxers, Jensen heads downstairs to start breakfast. Poached eggs over turkey sausage and whole wheat English muffins: easy and filling for the both of them, and definitely better than the green juice Jared leaves in his fridge for when he stays over. Jensen refuses to drink anything that smells like freaking compost.

Since Tahmoh doesn’t schedule practice on Friday mornings, Thursday has become their unofficial sleepover night. Jensen’s happy to have Tahmoh spending the night at his house. He's been to Tahmoh’s apartment (and touched his Olympic bronze medal, which raced straight to the top of Jensen's list of kinks he refuses to acknowledge), but they’re more comfortable in Jensen’s space.

Seeing Tahmoh’s coffee mixed in with Jensen’s sweeter varieties reminds Jensen of the mini breakdown he suffered in the grocery store when he realized he was buying food specifically for Tahmoh. Not like he hasn’t bought stuff for Jared before, but this is someone he’s dating. It’s a big deal, okay? He texted Jared from the store (all caps to prove that he was freaking out) and was grateful when Jared responded.

Just buy the stupid coffee you moron.

Best friends. So goddamn supportive. Jensen figured that since he already kept food for Jared around the kitchen—ridiculous things like pressed ginger and mango juice and a bag of sour gummy worms—Tahmoh's coffee wasn't a big deal.

Jensen hears the shower cut off. Tahmoh usually dresses quickly, so Jensen throws one of his pods into the Keurig. It finishes brewing as Tahmoh steps into the kitchen wearing jeans and a Calhoun Swimming t-shirt that’s deliciously tight across his shoulders.

In the middle of eating, Tahmoh looks up from his phone. “Has Jared said anything to you about changing gyms?”

That’s news to Jensen. “He changed gyms?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he started going at a different time.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me,” Jensen admits. “You haven’t seen him there?”

“Not in the last couple of weeks. I’m used to seeing him three or four times every week. Just thought he might have said something to you.”

Jared hasn’t been deliberately avoiding Jensen since their talk at Troubadour’s, but maybe things aren’t back to normal yet.

“I’ll ask him.”

“If he’s got an injury, tell him that I can teach him plenty of exercises depending on what hurts. He mentioned that he hyperextended his knee back in college…”

Jensen doesn’t mean to tune Tahmoh out, but his mind keeps coming back to Jared’s inexplicable behavior. Obviously Jensen needs to arm himself with more than cotton candy frappuccinos to get to the bottom of the issue.

“Jensen?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to remember if Jared mentioned anything.”

His lapse doesn’t bother Tahmoh. “I said I’ve got to get going. Coaches meeting with the athletic director this morning.”

Tahmoh doesn’t have a meet tonight, so Jensen feels confident asking him to go out later.

“Yeah, I can do something after practice. Text me with what you have in mind, okay?” Tahmoh rinses his plate and drops it in the dishwasher (further evidence that he’s actually the perfect guy). “You should tell Jared to come. Unless you want something private, of course,” he adds with a smirk.

Tahmoh kisses him at the threshold and Jensen can’t help thinking it’s an ideal way to end a near-perfect morning.

Unfortunately, his near-perfect morning turns into a shit-storm of an afternoon. The fire alarm starts to flash during Jensen’s lunch period, and since every drill is preceded by an announcement (and at least a dozen email reminders), Jensen figures it’s the real deal. Less than a minute later, the lights flicker for a few seconds before the power cuts out completely.

Jensen joins Hallgrove students and other teachers in the hallway as they start to file out of the English building.

“It just had to go off when it’s raining outside,” Jensen hears Hallgrove’s journalism teacher Boyd complain, and suddenly things seem so much worse.

Jensen endures nearly an hour outside in the cool rain while he helps corral students away from the building. Eventually it’s deemed safe for the students to move to other buildings, but Jensen and his fellow teachers are stuck talking to firefighters and dashing between buildings. By the time the firefighters determine that the culprit is an overloaded electrical panel that had sparked and smoked, Jensen is cold, wet, and ridiculously uncomfortable. When classes resume, his students are restless and basically useless. Jensen can’t keep them focused, so he gives up twenty minutes before the final bell and lets them use their phones. From the constant chorus of beeps and chimes, Jensen’s fellow educators had the same plan.

Jensen seizes the opportunity to text Tahmoh from his tablet hoping for some sympathy. Pressure is building behind his eyes. Between that and the stress, Jensen figures he’s in for an epic headache later. He pops two Motrin from the locked drawer in his desk.

Tahmoh texts back within a few minutes. You deserve a stress free night. Made plans yet?

Haven’t had a chance. Wanna come over and finish Daredevil?

You read my mind. I’ll hit the gym before practice so I can come right over. Food?

Definitely food. Surprise me :-)

With the day thrown out of whack, Jensen never finds time to talk to Jared in person. They text after school about the non-fire (Jared was lucky enough to be on lunch duty in the atrium when the alarm went off), but Jensen decides not to invite him over. He needs to figure out the next move where Jared is concerned, and he won’t be able to do that with a headache.

Regardless, later that night while Jensen’s curled up on his couch, treated to Charlie Cox’s masterful Marvel performance on-screen and a neck rub from Tahmoh, there’s a part of him that remains antsy, unable to relax.

He tries not to think about it.

~~~~~

“You wanna grab seats while I get popcorn?”

Jensen doesn’t know why Jared’s even asking; this is routine for them. But he answers anyway. “Extra butter this time?”

Jared throws him a look while Jensen stands his ground. Movies are meant to be watched with salty, buttery goodness in hand. End of story.

“Fine,” Jared concedes. “Try to grab seats in the middle, not too far up.”

The theater is already crowded, people beginning to sit down in the buffer seats usually left between the groups who got there early. Jensen lucks out with a pair of seats just below the middle, slightly to the left. He sets his jacket on the empty seat so no one gets any ideas and waits for Jared.

He was shocked when Jared called and invited him to see a movie, but since Tahmoh had prior plans with his assistant coach Felicia, Jensen had no problem saying yes.

Jared sidles his way past people’s legs until he reaches his seat. In addition to the bucket of popcorn in his hands, he’s got a bottle of water and a box of Swedish Fish candy. Typical Jared.

Jensen scoffs. “And you got on my case about the butter?”

“Shut up, man. I can cheat for one day.” Jared slouches in his seat.

“Speaking of cheat days, have you been to the gym lately?”

Jared pauses with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. He looks at the massive screen in front of them, pretending to be interested in the pre-trailer ads. In other words, guilty as hell.

“I wasn’t feeling well last week,” he claims, “and something funky’s been going on with my knee. I figured I’d take some time off. Why?”

“Tahmoh mentioned that he hadn’t seen you there.”

“Tahmoh talks about me?”

“Of course, he’s your friend. I think he’s missed seeing you.”

“I’ll text him,” Jared says, continuing to avoid Jensen’s stare. “Maybe we can figure out a time to work out together next week.”

Jensen wants to make sure. “What if I offered to go with you?”

That gets Jared’s attention. “To the gym? Are you serious?” His smile stretches wider as he tries not to outright laugh.

“Why is that so crazy?” Jensen demands. “I can go to the gym.”

“Yeah, but you don’t. You hate working out.”

“Yeah, well you’re always telling me that I need to do more than running.” He pulls out his phone and double checks his schedule. “How about Tuesday?” he asks. If they pick a day and put it in the calendar, Jared might be more inclined to show up.

“Tahmoh and I used to meet there around six. That okay?”

Jensen nods. “If I have both of you there, I’m twice as likely not to die from some weight-related mishap.”

Jared winks, giving Jensen a much longed for glimpse of his old, carefree self. “We’ll take care of you.”

The screen goes green announcing the first of many previews. Plenty of people are still talking amongst themselves and playing on their phones.

Jared leans over the armrest so that Jensen can hear him without speaking too loud. “You could have invited Tahmoh tonight.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I know I could’ve invited him,” Jensen says. “He had plans anyway, but I told him where we were going.”

“What about grabbing a drink after the movie?”

“Pretty sure Tahmoh was gonna head home. It’s just us tonight, okay?”

“Just making sure you know that you can invite him. I don’t mind being the third wheel.”

“You’re not.” Trusting his gut, Jensen grabs Jared’s non-butter covered hand and curls their fingers together. “That’s ridiculous, so don’t say that again. You’re not interfering, or causing problems, or whatever you’re thinking inside that Cro-Magnon skull of yours.”

Jared leaves his hand in Jensen’s. They might as well be the only people in the crowded theater.

“It’s weird, Tahmoh said almost the exact same thing about not wanting to come between us,” Jensen muses aloud. “He’s always telling me to invite you whenever we go out. He knows you’re a priority for me. But seriously, you both need to stop.”

Jensen doesn’t care that they’ve missed an entire preview—certain things needed saying. He already feels less tense. Jared, too, looks like he’s carrying less weight on his shoulders.

It’s not until the lights dim all the way that Jensen realizes he’s still holding Jared’s hand. He looks over, strange feelings swirling somewhere around his stomach. Jared gives him an easy smile, slipping his hand free to offer Jensen the bucket of popcorn.

~~~~~

There’s a daunting amount of work waiting for Jensen on Sunday afternoon. No doubt Jared’s busy doing the same thing, and Tahmoh is planning his practices for the week. Jensen thought about inviting Tahmoh over so they could get their work done together, but Jensen’s glad to have time alone.

What happened at the movies was strange. Far from the first time he’s held Jared’s hand, but there was something weighted about the entire conversation that he’s having trouble thinking about.

Jensen’s relationship with Tahmoh has obviously put a strain on his friendship with Jared. He hasn't been able to trace the cause. Until last night, he thought it was simple petulance—nothing more than the bitterness of a friend being ditched in favor of a new relationship. Right now, he’s not sure of anything.

Jared’s been there through nearly all of Jensen’s significant relationships, and vice versa. Whatever jealousy or resentment develops is usually brushed aside within a couple of days. They’re best friends—they get over shit like that. So why isn’t it working this time?

Jensen recognizes that what he has with Tahmoh could be special. He hasn’t felt this attached to a guy since he dated Aiden during grad school. He also knows that Tahmoh and Aiden, the most serious boyfriends Jensen’s ever had, are nothing alike. Meaning the chances of Jensen’s relationship with Tahmoh going up in flames are significantly less.

Jared was there to pull Jensen out of the rubble when his relationship with Aiden collapsed. It wasn't easy to overcome the pain of realizing that Aiden would never acknowledge their relationship in public or even to his own family, despite seeing Jensen for almost fourteen months. The fallout prevented Jensen from dating for more than a year, but it was Jared who finally convinced him to attempt something more than one-night stands with guys he met at clubs and bars. And it was Jared who continued to drag his ass off their couch when those attempts led nowhere.

His thoughts are running in circles, creating a furrow in Jensen’s mind that’s so deep, he needs to stop before he’s unable to climb his way out.

An hour into grading, Jensen’s phone chimes. Only two people would be texting him this afternoon.

FML I hate grading. Why did we decide to become teachers again?

Jensen laughs. The distraction is a relief.

Because nothing else in our major paid well.

We should write novels.

Too much work, Jensen types.

Jared’s response comes quickly. Then we should write ONE novel and split the work.

Thirty minutes later, they’re trading absurd novel ideas back and forth. Jensen critiques his students’ outlines in between sending Jared thoughts about their future steampunk-slash-werewolf-slash-erotic murder mystery novel.

This is gonna be a masterpiece. At least two sequels.

And a movie deal, Jensen types. Who are you bringing to the red carpet premiere?

You, obviously.

You, me, and Moh, right? Jensen adds a wink, a star, and a clapperboard emoji.

He expects a funny response. Something about scandalizing the media with such a sexy threesome, but it never comes. Jensen sets his phone on the table and glares as if the device has offended him. Minutes drag by, and Jensen’s about to text Jared apologizing for whatever made the conversation go sideways when it finally chimes.

Sorry, I’ve still got a lot of grading to do. Nothing like procrastinating, huh?

Jensen feels the dismissal as keenly as if they were face to face.

~~~~~

“You don’t have to do this.”

Tahmoh’s using what Jensen refers to as his zen-voice. Combined with his soft accent, it has a tendency to entice Jensen into a state of relaxation (or extreme arousal depending on the circumstances). By chance or luck, the three of them are alone in the well-appointed locker room of Jared and Tahmoh’s expensive gym. Jensen wishes he could say that he's not trying to psych himself up, but it would be a lie.

"You stretched, right?"

And there's Jared chiming in with his I know we're making a huge mistake, but I'm just gonna go with it tone. Jensen can't decide which man is more annoying at the moment.

"I've been to this gym before!"

"It's been a while," Jared points out. "There's a smoothie bar around the corner from the front desk..."

"Don't you dare," Jensen hisses. He blocks out the sound of Tahmoh chuckling behind them. "I am not drinking a fucking smoothie, Jared. Do you guys not want me at your beautiful-people gym or something?"

"You're gonna be fine." Tahmoh cuts in before Jensen can unleash another tirade. "Jared and I came up with a light circuit for you."

"Circuit Training for Dummies, huh?"

This time, it's Jared who laughs. "Do you want to be sore tomorrow, Jen? You haven't done most of this stuff for a while. If you push too hard on the first day, you're gonna be hurting all week."

Jared turns to secure his bag in one of the empty lockers, giving Tahmoh the opportunity to bend down and whisper in Jensen's ear. "I really don't want you to be sore later. I've got plans." Jensen doesn't make a sound, but his heart races. Tahmoh's mouth curves against his cheek. "And don't worry, you're definitely going to be most beautiful guy out there."

Jared slams his locker shut. He busies himself with his shoelaces even though Jensen swears he tied them a few minutes ago. Tahmoh steps back to give Jensen some space.

"Ready?"

"As a heart attack," Jensen grumbles.

Jared's smile returns. "Let's hope you don't have one of those."

Twenty minutes later, Jensen is seriously considering faking a heart attack. The vital muscle is about to pound itself right out of his chest.

"I've made a huge mistake," he mutters in true Bluth style. Next to him, Jared snorts. They'd marathoned Arrested Development many times while they lived together.

"Ten more lunges, Jen," he instructs. "Then water."

Readjusting his grip on the kettlebells in his hands, Jensen steps back into the lunge. His quads protest the strain, but he pushes through, lowering himself so that his back knee nearly touches the floor while keeping his support leg steady. He alternates legs until he hits ten, then drops the kettlebells at his feet and heads for his water bottle.

Jensen is positive he's already sweated out twice as much water as he's taken in, but the liquid feels amazing as he swallows it down. His gaze finds Tahmoh across the room where he's occupying one of the fancy rowing machines, too focused on getting his reps in that he doesn't notice Jensen's attention. Jared remains with the kettlebells watching himself in the mirror as he lifts two (twice the size of the ones Jensen was using, obviously) in a double shoulder press.

This was a horrible idea. And not because of the way Jensen's legs feel like burning, melting plastic. No, it's horrible because working out with Tahmoh and Jared means he's forced to look at them the entire time.

Sure, Jensen's pleased that his plan to restore Jared to his routine is working. Back in the locker room, Jared seemed happy, mood lighter than it's been, and Tahmoh was definitely excited to have his workout buddy again. But for Jensen, this is fucking torture.

Tahmoh and Jared look like extras straight out of Spartacus (only clean-shaven and not nearly as naked). As a gay man, Jensen has come to see gyms as giant shops filled with sweaty eye-candy, so long as you go to the right gym, of course, but Jared and Tahmoh are in a different arena of hotness.

Tahmoh glides back and forth on the rowing machine, powerful legs extending as he works the muscles across his upper back. He's barely broken a sweat; Jensen suspects Tahmoh's sticking to an easier routine tonight because of him. This is crazy, because if their places were switched, Jensen’s arms would’ve given out by now. At least he gets to watch and savor the fluid movement of Tahmoh's body, the way the sweat gathers at his temples and along his throat.

Thank god for the other people scattered around the gym; if they were alone, there'd be nothing preventing Jensen from climbing onto Tahmoh's lap and pressing up against every glistening inch of his magnificent form. His thighs bracing Jensen from behind while arms capable of winning Olympic glory circle Jensen and hold him close.

Jensen needs to get a grip on himself before he does something obscene. (Though not a literal grip, of course, because that would definitely be obscene.)

He tears his eyes from Tahmoh only to find Jared doing his own set of lunges. Unlike Jensen’s struggling, Jared knows what he’s doing. Balancing on some kind of half-ball, half-platform, Jared steps back and lunges with kettlebells in his hands. The combination of holding his balance and sinking down at the same time must be hell on his muscles, yet he manages to make it look easy. Each lunge is slow, deliberate, but requires more effort and coordination than a dozen regular lunges.

Jared’s legs are a sight to behold, quadriceps thick over his knees. Jensen can just imagine what those moves do for his ass. No wonder Jared always looks so good in his jeans.

“Jen!” Jared’s shout catches him off-guard. He’s smirking; Jensen doubts he got away with ogling. “Get back here, you’ve been standing there long enough.”

“Do I have to?” He’s only half-joking. He’d rather be anywhere but here for reasons of a physical nature.

“Ten more minutes of kettlebells and then I’ll send you over to Moh, okay?”

Jensen sighs and gives himself over to the torture.

“You’re doing awesome,” Jared tells him in the middle of his next set. Fortunately for Jensen’s legs, Jared has shifted focus to his arms. “You should definitely come to the gym more often.”

Jensen flexes his bicep to lift the weight. “And embarrass you guys? No thanks.”

“What are you talking about? You’re making us look good.”

He scowls. “Because I’m such an amateur? Everyone in here looks like they’re training for freakin’ American Ninja Warrior, Jared.”

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant,” Jared explains. “I’m saying you elevate our status just by association.”

Jared’s words don’t connect to meaning until he leans a little closer, hand on Jensen’s elbow to keep it tight against his side, making his bicep curl more effective. “You’re hot, Jen. And you know it.”

Jensen might’ve been blessed with attractive features, and he doesn’t mind hearing it from someone whose opinion he values, but no matter what Jared says, Jensen’s not the one drawing stares from all corners. Jensen’s caught more than a few men and women ogling his friends, some more intensely than others. Tahmoh, in particular, has been the recipient of hungry gazes. Some of the attention comes from his title as Olympic medalist (his autographed photo is framed above the check-in desk along with other famous current and former clients), but it’s not the only reason. He’s captivating to watch.

And then there’s Jared with his boyish charm and enthusiasm. When he laughs at Jensen’s grumpiness, the sound spreads throughout the spacious gym. He’s friendly and open, and Jensen wonders if he would be flirting with any of the other members if Jensen wasn’t there hoarding his time.

The swift fire of possessiveness blazes through Jensen. It comes out of nowhere, but the most shocking thing is that it’s not reserved solely for the man he’s dating. Jensen wants to claim both of them—call out to everyone else that they’re his.

It may be the craziest thought Jensen has ever had, but at the same time, it quells a certain craving within him, one he’s never dared to acknowledge before now.

“Alright, switch it up to your triceps,” Jared says once he’s satisfied with Jensen’s bicep curls. “Arms up—grip your opposite elbow. Hang on, not like that.”

Jensen’s eyes are fixed on their reflections as Jared steps up behind him, moving Jensen’s arms where he wants them. He speaks in low tones while he instructs Jensen on the proper way to isolate his triceps. He barely grants Jensen any space, observing carefully.

“Keep your abs in, Jen. Chest lifted.” He lowers his hands to Jensen’s back. “Don’t want to strain your spine at all.”

Jensen follows the instructions as well as he can, but his body is drawn to Jared’s. He sways almost unconsciously, feels Jared’s chest at his back. Jared answers by sliding one hand around Jensen’s waist, pressing in.

“Stay put,” he whispers, tremor evident in his voice. He meets Jensen’s eyes via the large mirror in front of them. Jensen can easily imagine the same words being whispered in a different situation. No one else around, heat pressing in on them as they trade touches in Jensen’s bed…

Jensen closes his eyes before Jared can read too much from their reflection. He feels sweat running down his spine, overheating not from the exertion in his muscles, but from the proximity of his best friend.

“Jen…”

He opens his eyes. The longing in his own expression is obvious, but he’s not alone. Jared is watching him with a look that’s nearly devastating. Terrified about what Jared is going to say, Jensen steps forward and prays that the space between them in enough of a buffer

Jared’s expression crumbles.

“How’s it going over here?”

Jensen’s not sure whether he’s relieved or irritated when Tahmoh appears. He’s leaning towards the former, the tension present only a moment ago dispersing quickly. Jared ducks away as Tahmoh steps up to Jensen’s side and teasingly grabs his bicep.

“Damn,” he says, “feels pretty good.”

“Hey,” Jensen feigns offense, “I have great arms already.”

“I know you do.” By way of apology, Tahmoh brushes his mouth along Jensen’s forehead: an affectionate gesture Jensen would have no problem with if the moment with Jared had never happened. He accepts the near-kiss, glancing to the side where Jared shuffles awkwardly.

“Feel like trying the ropes?” Tahmoh asks.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Because nothing could go wrong there.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jared says, wiping his face with a towel. “Go on.”

Jensen waits for him to look up—he wants to see what’s going on in Jared’s head and the only way to do that without saying anything is to look in his eyes—but he never does. Tahmoh’s already walking in the opposite direction, and after few seconds, Jensen gives up and follows.

Turns out the heavy ropes are a welcome distraction. Jensen’s too busy trying not to give himself first degree rope-burn or thwap Tahmoh in the legs to worry about what passed between him and Jared.


PART THREE.