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The Ones Who've Come In Late
Natalie 'verse, J2, PG. Jensen gets a letter.


When Jared gets home from work, Jensen is sitting on the couch, holding a piece of paper and staring at it with unblinking intensity.

Jared has never come home to find Jensen in his apartment before--he's had a key forever, but he rarely uses it except to lock the apartment in the morning if he's stayed over and Jared has had to leave early. He doesn't usually just come in uninvited.

He doesn't look up as Jared takes off his shoes and drops off his messenger bag, doesn't do anything until Jared sits down next to him and says, "What's wrong?"

Even then, Jensen doesn't say anything, just leans against him and hands the paper over.

It's pink construction paper, folded into a card. There's a picture on the front, disproportionate people--a girl in a triangle of a dress with big beefy arms and a bow on her head, and a man in a Santa hat. Jared swallows, opens it up and sees Daddy thank you for the prezint love Natty written on the inside in big, uneven font.

She's five now, Jared thinks. She must be in kindergarten. Learning to write.

"Jesus," he says, on an exhale.

"Her mom sent a note," says Jensen. His voice is creaky, like he hasn't used it in a while. It's clear he's been crying. He lets out a shaky breath. "Says she made it in school and wanted to send it, but I shouldn't think--you know. That I can have anything to do with them."

"Fuck," Jared murmurs. He pulls Jensen in, and Jensen comes willingly, unashamed of his own sadness. "I'm sorry."

Jensen lets out a shaky breath. "I don't--I don't even--"

Jared pulls him closer, kisses the top of his head. "She loves you," he says.

"Until her mom gets to her."

Jared pulls Jensen actually into his lap, putting the drawing down on the table. He doesn't often take advantage of his size, doesn't manhandle Jensen, except during sex occasionally. But this is important.

"Sorry, I'm not--I don't want to start thinking that she'll--give me a chance, or something." Jensen laughs, the most pained sound Jared's heard in a while. "I just can't get my hopes up. I can't live my life just waiting for--" his voice hitches.

"I know," Jared says quickly. He doesn't, not really--he knows that Jensen's pain over this is so big it's actually incomprehensible to him. But he's trying.

Jensen curls into him, taking the comfort Jared's offering.

Jared swallows. "You should move in with me," he says.

It's not actually spontaneous--he's been thinking about it for months, but Jensen's lease isn't up yet.

Right now, he does not care at all. He doesn't want Jensen to be sad when he's not around. He doesn't want Jensen to have to sit alone in a dark apartment because he still doesn't feel comfortable at Jared's place.

"Yeah?" Jensen asks.

"I don't have a bedroom for you, but I figure we could convert the office," says Jared, teasing, and Jensen laughs.

"The office? You mean that room with the workout stuff and the playstation?"

"Whatever," says Jared. "My job is being a sexy actor. Workout stuff is very important. Way better than a desk."

Jensen snorts. "Sure it is." He flexes his fingers. "Yeah. I'll move in." He climbs out of Jared's lap, wiping his eyes with his sleeves, and he gives Jared a watery smile. "So this is my fridge now, right?"

"Yeah," says Jared, a little surprised.

Jensen nods, once, like he's making his mind up about something, and picks up the drawing. Jared follows him into the kitchen, watches him stick it up on the fridge.

"That's what you, do, right?" Jensen asks.

"Yeah," says Jared. "That's what you do."

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