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Dark of the Night by
brutti_ma_buoni for <user site="livejourna
Title: Dark of the Night
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Any warnings: none
Blinking in darkness. Jared can see Jensen’s eyes.
“Knew you weren’t sleeping,” he breathes. “I’ve told you-“
“I know. I know, it’s fine, you’re good. You don’t need me staying up all night for you. I should trust you. And, I do, babe.” Jensen’s voice is rusty-dry and rueful. “You know I do. But-“
Jared kisses him, to stop the ‘but’ in its tracks. He knows what comes next. Doesn’t need a refresh on all the reasons this isn’t easy, thank you. Trust only goes so far, when you’re two very different people, with very different lives. Or, that’s how it feels when you’re the one that is being trusted. Up to a point.
He tries, “I know you don’t understand, but-“ Jensen kisses him right back, palpably with the same intent. Don’t say it. Don’t say it aloud. Don’t give it the power of existing. Because if you do- If you do, we might not be ‘we’ at all.
*
Three nights later, and Jensen isn’t even pretending to sleep, though it's later than late and he has to be in the office tomorrow (which is today, now). He’s sitting up, resting on the couch, lights blazing, NFL replay blaring in the background with no sign he’s looked up from his editorial musing at any point. Jared wonders exactly how much Jensen’s getting ahead at work, if he’s staying up past 4am, but that isn’t the important thing here.
“You’re back,” says Jensen, not looking up.
“You knew I would be,” is all Jared has. It’s been a year. If Jensen doesn’t know it yet, hasn’t internalised it, can’t believe it- Well. He doesn’t know where that leaves them. He tries, again. “I’ll always come back to you.”
Jensen’s shoulders twitch, but, probably wisely, he says nothing in return. They turn in, still silently. Jared watches the wall long after Jensen’s breath slurs and slows. This….
This can’t go on.
But it’s late. He doesn’t have to say a word, and there are no listening ears to hear if he did. So he sleeps before the dawn’s sluggish break.
*
Twenty-two days later, when nobody is staying up past a sensible hour, the intervening weeks have pared back the jagged edges of everyone’s difficult feelings. Jared knows they can go on. Knows he wants nothing in the world more than that.
Except.
“Jen,” he says, tentatively, that quiet Thursday night when Jared doesn’t have early class and nobody felt like going downtown.
“Hmmm?” Jensen looks up at him, over the slip-sliding rims of his glasses. Cute enough that Jared is almost distractable. This is their last chance for a while, of course. He could bend, and kiss, and they could spend the evening getting as close as anyone can. This can wait.
This can’t wait.
Jared sits, carefully, at the other end of the couch. Touching no inch of Jensen. Jensen, in turn, goes still. Stiff, even. He may not have Jared’s specialist awareness of human behaviour, but he senses something’s going down.
“It’ll begin tomorrow night.”
“I know.” Jensen lays aside his papers. “Of course I know. You think I don’t keep track?”
Of course he does. Maybe not bred to it like Jared, but Jensen’s going to know, now, when the dark nights are. The dark nights, and the others.
“Full moon is Sunday,” Jared says.
It’s a resigned sigh, coming back. If you listen with hope, it could make the shape of an accepting, “Yyyeeeaah.”
Jared doesn’t want to say it. Every part of him is screaming not to open his mouth, to let well alone. But he’s always known this day would come.
His breath shudders in back of his throat as he tries to frame the words. Finally, he makes the syllables, “This isn’t working.” Watches the spasm of pain flash over Jensen’s face, followed by resignation. Like he’s always known this thing with Jared would come to this.
Jared always has known, of course. They teach you that early. Which is how he forces out the rest. The important part. The part they teach you never to say, but he has to at least try, before this all ends.
“You want to come with me?”
*
The moon is two days off full the next night, but it’s bright enough for Jared’s purpose. He can feel the change already.
“Come with me, down here,” he says, and Jensen follows him down the dark alley. Trustfully. That’s mostly when Jared knows it’s going to be okay. “It’ll hurt,” he warns. “But that’s okay. I’m used to it. Just- Make damn sure you don’t get hurt, too, Jen. This isn’t your world.”
Jensen tries a smile, half-successfully. He knows, for sure. “You’re the boss.”
“Not for much longer,” says Jared, and it’s blurring, slurring, fuzzing even as he says it.
Everything changes. Smaller. Stronger. Sharper. Furrier. He keeps fixed on Jensen throughout, because he has to remember if this is going to work. Has to show Jensen it’s okay.
When it’s done, and his howling stops, he scooches over to Jensen’s ankle. No words, obviously, but he tries to show Follow. And Jensen does. So it’s okay.
*
It’s different, getting home together. Jared’s human form starts in a full two hours before it’s technically dawn, so it’s still worth them staggering back to their apartment and collapsing into bed together for hours. Lost sleep has to be regained, and they’ve both lost plenty over this, lately.
In the morning, Jared wakens to coffee-smells. Jensen’s usual routine after one of Jared’s nights out. He tries to breathe steadily, but it’s tough. This can’t be just another morning after. Has to make a change.
In the kitchen, Jensen’s humming. Some of Jared's tension abates.
“Morning,” says Jared. Jensen turns, snuggles into him, breathes him in deep, and reciprocates with a kiss.
It’s – probably – going to be okay. The tightness of Jared’s chest abates enough that breakfast can happen. And, maybe, life together can happen too.
*
“So I liked that place, where you go to sleep,” Jensen says, apropos of nothing, except maybe sandwiches and relaxation, some hours later.
“The den?” Jared smiles. “Me too. Everything seems better since I built it.”
“It was you?”
“Yeah. Human me has to look out for fuzzy me, you know?”
It looks like Jensen never thought that through. His jaw waggles a little, before he nods. "I guess so. Or-" He pauses. "I could help too, you know?"
Jared nods, shrugs, doesn't quite know what to do with that – and is duly grateful when Jensen picks up the conversational baton again. "I never knew," he starts. Stops. Tries again, "You don't have to hide from me. Do you know that? You could change in the apartment. I'd- Would that work for you?"
Oh. Oh. That's really not how Jared has been conceptualising this situation. Not even a little bit. "I'm a rat, Jen. Most people don't want them around the house."
"But you don't need to be outdoors? Call of the moon, making little rat babi- rat buddies?" Jensen slips, and covers it so badly Jared almost laughs.
"No, babe. None of that. Or, maybe sometimes. Nice summer nights, you know? It's pretty cool, being outside. But I don't have rat buddies. They can smell I'm different. And they don't live so long, honestly. Probably a different rat every time I meet one. So, no, Jen. I'm not pining for the rat life." He stops, because this is something he never says. "Can I- I wish I wasn't a were-rat, Jen. That's the truth. But if you can deal, then-"
The way Jensen's looking at him, this one's going to turn out okay. Like Jensen's been staying up all night waiting for the night rat!Jared runs off to live his heart's desire rat!life that Jensen can never follow. "Oh," he says, startled, because that's exactly it, isn't it? And Jensen's so wrong, and now they both know it.
"You're a very cute rat," Jensen says, after a while has passed, and they're still holding each other closer than mealtime usually encompasses. "You don't have to hide from me, ever. We could make you a den, in the office. Healthy food. Maybe some toys, like a run-"
Jared thinks that all sounds just fine (rat!Jared is internally skipping with excitement and ignoring practicalities about litter trays and forgetful gnawing of Jensen's notebooks, and other such things that will have to be worked out). But the important thing isn't rat practicalities at all.
"Even if I want to be outside sometimes," he says, "This is me. Okay? You and me. I never forget that. Even when I'm a rodent. Never forget it, never plan to. I'll always come back to you, babe."
Jensen smiles, big and wide and happier than Jared’s every truly known. “Okay, then. Okay.”
Maybe it’s not the most articular description of perfect happiness. But Jared knows it when he sees it; when he feels it. Tonight, he’ll still change, and probably chew something terrible, and he’ll still wish this wasn’t coming between him and Jensen spending the night together the way they prefer. But he guesses Jensen will sleep, tonight. So Jared can crawl into their warm bed come the half-morning, and know he’s welcome.
Which means it’s all good.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Any warnings: none
Blinking in darkness. Jared can see Jensen’s eyes.
“Knew you weren’t sleeping,” he breathes. “I’ve told you-“
“I know. I know, it’s fine, you’re good. You don’t need me staying up all night for you. I should trust you. And, I do, babe.” Jensen’s voice is rusty-dry and rueful. “You know I do. But-“
Jared kisses him, to stop the ‘but’ in its tracks. He knows what comes next. Doesn’t need a refresh on all the reasons this isn’t easy, thank you. Trust only goes so far, when you’re two very different people, with very different lives. Or, that’s how it feels when you’re the one that is being trusted. Up to a point.
He tries, “I know you don’t understand, but-“ Jensen kisses him right back, palpably with the same intent. Don’t say it. Don’t say it aloud. Don’t give it the power of existing. Because if you do- If you do, we might not be ‘we’ at all.
*
Three nights later, and Jensen isn’t even pretending to sleep, though it's later than late and he has to be in the office tomorrow (which is today, now). He’s sitting up, resting on the couch, lights blazing, NFL replay blaring in the background with no sign he’s looked up from his editorial musing at any point. Jared wonders exactly how much Jensen’s getting ahead at work, if he’s staying up past 4am, but that isn’t the important thing here.
“You’re back,” says Jensen, not looking up.
“You knew I would be,” is all Jared has. It’s been a year. If Jensen doesn’t know it yet, hasn’t internalised it, can’t believe it- Well. He doesn’t know where that leaves them. He tries, again. “I’ll always come back to you.”
Jensen’s shoulders twitch, but, probably wisely, he says nothing in return. They turn in, still silently. Jared watches the wall long after Jensen’s breath slurs and slows. This….
This can’t go on.
But it’s late. He doesn’t have to say a word, and there are no listening ears to hear if he did. So he sleeps before the dawn’s sluggish break.
*
Twenty-two days later, when nobody is staying up past a sensible hour, the intervening weeks have pared back the jagged edges of everyone’s difficult feelings. Jared knows they can go on. Knows he wants nothing in the world more than that.
Except.
“Jen,” he says, tentatively, that quiet Thursday night when Jared doesn’t have early class and nobody felt like going downtown.
“Hmmm?” Jensen looks up at him, over the slip-sliding rims of his glasses. Cute enough that Jared is almost distractable. This is their last chance for a while, of course. He could bend, and kiss, and they could spend the evening getting as close as anyone can. This can wait.
This can’t wait.
Jared sits, carefully, at the other end of the couch. Touching no inch of Jensen. Jensen, in turn, goes still. Stiff, even. He may not have Jared’s specialist awareness of human behaviour, but he senses something’s going down.
“It’ll begin tomorrow night.”
“I know.” Jensen lays aside his papers. “Of course I know. You think I don’t keep track?”
Of course he does. Maybe not bred to it like Jared, but Jensen’s going to know, now, when the dark nights are. The dark nights, and the others.
“Full moon is Sunday,” Jared says.
It’s a resigned sigh, coming back. If you listen with hope, it could make the shape of an accepting, “Yyyeeeaah.”
Jared doesn’t want to say it. Every part of him is screaming not to open his mouth, to let well alone. But he’s always known this day would come.
His breath shudders in back of his throat as he tries to frame the words. Finally, he makes the syllables, “This isn’t working.” Watches the spasm of pain flash over Jensen’s face, followed by resignation. Like he’s always known this thing with Jared would come to this.
Jared always has known, of course. They teach you that early. Which is how he forces out the rest. The important part. The part they teach you never to say, but he has to at least try, before this all ends.
“You want to come with me?”
*
The moon is two days off full the next night, but it’s bright enough for Jared’s purpose. He can feel the change already.
“Come with me, down here,” he says, and Jensen follows him down the dark alley. Trustfully. That’s mostly when Jared knows it’s going to be okay. “It’ll hurt,” he warns. “But that’s okay. I’m used to it. Just- Make damn sure you don’t get hurt, too, Jen. This isn’t your world.”
Jensen tries a smile, half-successfully. He knows, for sure. “You’re the boss.”
“Not for much longer,” says Jared, and it’s blurring, slurring, fuzzing even as he says it.
Everything changes. Smaller. Stronger. Sharper. Furrier. He keeps fixed on Jensen throughout, because he has to remember if this is going to work. Has to show Jensen it’s okay.
When it’s done, and his howling stops, he scooches over to Jensen’s ankle. No words, obviously, but he tries to show Follow. And Jensen does. So it’s okay.
*
It’s different, getting home together. Jared’s human form starts in a full two hours before it’s technically dawn, so it’s still worth them staggering back to their apartment and collapsing into bed together for hours. Lost sleep has to be regained, and they’ve both lost plenty over this, lately.
In the morning, Jared wakens to coffee-smells. Jensen’s usual routine after one of Jared’s nights out. He tries to breathe steadily, but it’s tough. This can’t be just another morning after. Has to make a change.
In the kitchen, Jensen’s humming. Some of Jared's tension abates.
“Morning,” says Jared. Jensen turns, snuggles into him, breathes him in deep, and reciprocates with a kiss.
It’s – probably – going to be okay. The tightness of Jared’s chest abates enough that breakfast can happen. And, maybe, life together can happen too.
*
“So I liked that place, where you go to sleep,” Jensen says, apropos of nothing, except maybe sandwiches and relaxation, some hours later.
“The den?” Jared smiles. “Me too. Everything seems better since I built it.”
“It was you?”
“Yeah. Human me has to look out for fuzzy me, you know?”
It looks like Jensen never thought that through. His jaw waggles a little, before he nods. "I guess so. Or-" He pauses. "I could help too, you know?"
Jared nods, shrugs, doesn't quite know what to do with that – and is duly grateful when Jensen picks up the conversational baton again. "I never knew," he starts. Stops. Tries again, "You don't have to hide from me. Do you know that? You could change in the apartment. I'd- Would that work for you?"
Oh. Oh. That's really not how Jared has been conceptualising this situation. Not even a little bit. "I'm a rat, Jen. Most people don't want them around the house."
"But you don't need to be outdoors? Call of the moon, making little rat babi- rat buddies?" Jensen slips, and covers it so badly Jared almost laughs.
"No, babe. None of that. Or, maybe sometimes. Nice summer nights, you know? It's pretty cool, being outside. But I don't have rat buddies. They can smell I'm different. And they don't live so long, honestly. Probably a different rat every time I meet one. So, no, Jen. I'm not pining for the rat life." He stops, because this is something he never says. "Can I- I wish I wasn't a were-rat, Jen. That's the truth. But if you can deal, then-"
The way Jensen's looking at him, this one's going to turn out okay. Like Jensen's been staying up all night waiting for the night rat!Jared runs off to live his heart's desire rat!life that Jensen can never follow. "Oh," he says, startled, because that's exactly it, isn't it? And Jensen's so wrong, and now they both know it.
"You're a very cute rat," Jensen says, after a while has passed, and they're still holding each other closer than mealtime usually encompasses. "You don't have to hide from me, ever. We could make you a den, in the office. Healthy food. Maybe some toys, like a run-"
Jared thinks that all sounds just fine (rat!Jared is internally skipping with excitement and ignoring practicalities about litter trays and forgetful gnawing of Jensen's notebooks, and other such things that will have to be worked out). But the important thing isn't rat practicalities at all.
"Even if I want to be outside sometimes," he says, "This is me. Okay? You and me. I never forget that. Even when I'm a rodent. Never forget it, never plan to. I'll always come back to you, babe."
Jensen smiles, big and wide and happier than Jared’s every truly known. “Okay, then. Okay.”
Maybe it’s not the most articular description of perfect happiness. But Jared knows it when he sees it; when he feels it. Tonight, he’ll still change, and probably chew something terrible, and he’ll still wish this wasn’t coming between him and Jensen spending the night together the way they prefer. But he guesses Jensen will sleep, tonight. So Jared can crawl into their warm bed come the half-morning, and know he’s welcome.
Which means it’s all good.
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<3
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Thanks for sharing this lovely piece :)
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I love how it was so dark and then sweet and hopeful at the end.
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