Routine
"I might be late, man, so just go on in, okay?" Jared had said. "Make
yourself at home." Then he'd laughed, his smile wide, teasing. "Like
you wouldn't anyway…" And for that, Jensen had been forced to flip him
off.
But that was how Jensen found himself standing on Jared's front stoop,
turning the key in the lock, jiggling it just a bit—as you had to,
because the thing was pretty ancient and pretty much crap—so he could,
you know, actually open the door. But then the key was moving and the
door was opening, and Jensen was closing it even more quickly as he
stepped inside and found himself surrounded by a sea of dogs.
So, yes, there were only two of them, but Sadie and Harley didn't
believe in personal space, and were also maybe part sheepdog, the way
they were circling him, rubbing up against his knees, pushing at him
until he actually got the hint and knelt down to say hello.
The problem with having two dogs, Jensen had decided a long time ago—or
maybe the problem with *Jared's* two dogs—was that there were never
enough hands to go around. Like, say, he could give Sadie the
ear-scratching she was so desperately asking for, but that didn't leave
him with any way to defend himself against Harley's snuffling nose
moving on it's quest from Jensen's ear down to his pockets (both jacket
and pants) in case he'd hidden hamburgers or chew toys or possibly
milkbones anywhere on his person. Or, if he transferred his attention
to Harley, that left the back of his hand open to Sadie's very wet
tongue.
So yeah, two hands were not enough. Four might have been. Six would
have been better.
But then the greeting was out of the way and the dogs let him stand up
again, let him open the door again to grab his bag off of the front
steps, and then they were leading him through Jared's house, moving
slowly, keeping step with him, tails thwapping against his knees with
enough force that he was pretty sure he was going to have bruises
tomorrow.
The dogs knew the routine by now, though: front door, then upstairs to
Jared's bedroom so that Jensen could drop his bag off.
As soon as they were in the room, Sadie jumped up on the bed and cocked
her ears in a questioning manner, as if asking, *Naptime? Now? Yes,
yes. Now?* and Harley picked up a knotted tug-toy from somewhere and
bumped his nose at Jensen's hand until he actually grabbed one
end of it. Once he did, though, Harley bared his teeth, growled
and dropped his weight onto the floor before scrabbling backwards,
actually pulling Jensen a step towards him before Jensen could catch
his balance. After that, Jensen dropped down to the floor, too, and
pulled back just as hard. And, well, while he wouldn't admit to it,
well, ever, he might have growled back. Just a little. On the bed,
Sadie started barking, happy sounds, looking back and forth between
them, as if she was trying to figure out which of them to root for: her
canine companion, or the one who could actually reach the treats Jared
kept up in his kitchen cupboards.
Again Harley pulled on the toy, strongly enough that when Jensen let go
he fell down, but when he scrambled to his feet again, he was wagging,
barking joyfully, and then Sadie was joining in.
"All right, all right," Jensen said. "Come on, calm down, unless you
want that cranky neighbor of yours calling in a noise complaint to the
cops. Because yeah, wouldn't that be a fun one to try to explain to
Jared. 'Yeah, man, I'm interrupting your shoot so you can explain to
the nice policemen at your door that I'm really not trespassing, I
promise.'"
Sadie barked once more, but Harley had picked up his toy again and was
currently backing away from Jensen, as if he could entice Jensen into
chasing him. Indeed, when Jensen took a step towards the door, Harley
took off running, nails skittering across Jared's hardwood floors, then
back down the stairs. Jensen was almost out the door when Sadie jumped
off of the bed and hurried to catch up, struggling to squeeze through
the doorway just as he did.
She knew the next part of the routine as well: kitchen, so Jensen could
check their food bowls, because one time—one time—Jared had asked him
to make sure his babies got their dinner, and once had been enough. Now
Jensen, too, was a giver of food, and the fact that he was there must
mean it was time to eat. And possibly for treats, because he hadn't
been there earlier, when Jared had given them their morning milkbones
(as Jensen knew he always did) so Jensen must not know they'd had them.
Harley apparently knew the routine too, because he was already nosing
his bowl around the kitchen when Jensen got there, whining pitifully,
so Jensen opened the closet that Jared kept the food in and filled
their bowls up. He watched them for a minute, big tongues gulping down
the food, bowls already sliding across the floor, before he continued
on with his routine: living room, couch, TV. Because that was about as
'home-like' as he felt comfortable making himself without Jared being
there to encourage it.
Without Jared being there to kick Jensen's shoes underneath the couch
in the middle of the inevitable post-Jensen-kicking-Jared's-ass at the
video game of the night wrestling match.
Without Jared being there to pull Jensen into his arms, making Jensen
not be able to remember the next day where he'd left whatever book or
magazine or whatever it was he'd been reading just a moment before.
Without Jared being there to leave Jensen's sweatshirt (and possibly
his belt, too) in a crumpled heap on the floor of whatever room they
happened to be in, saying, 'yeah, not really interested in neat and
tidy right now, man.'
Just… without Jared being there.
Yeah.
So Jensen went into the living room, sat down on Jared's couch, and
turned on the TV. It was that crap hour right after dinner where
nothing was on unless you wanted to watch *Entertainment Tonight* or
*Wheel of Fortune* or *Law & Order* reruns, but with 250 channels,
Jensen thought he should be able to find something. Something. Any
channel now. Really.
But then the dogs were clicking into the room, slowly now, licking
their lips, looking at him and Jensen knew this part of the routine
too, so he lay down on the couch. It was a big piece of furniture, long
and deep, and so there was room, if he bent his knees a little, for
Harley to curl up at the end, and Sadie to curl up in front of him.
Harley got up first, turning in a circle three times before finally
flopping down with his paw resting over Jensen's ankle, and then it was
Sadie's turn. She got up more carefully, then curled up, pressing
herself against Jensen's chest, her front paws and her head hanging
over the edge.
The first time she'd tried that with Jensen, he'd told her to get down,
but she'd been persistent, and he'd spent enough time with Jared over
the last few years—in hotel rooms in Vancouver and in the house here in
LA—to be used to it. To say, yeah, okay, when she looked up at him
asking, begging.
To fall asleep on the couch like that, *Jeopardy* playing in the
background, and only realize that he had fallen asleep when he woke up
to the sound of a key jiggling in the front door, to the feel of Harley
leaping off of the couch (and completely crushing Jensen's ankle in his
quest to go greet Jared *nownownow*).
He felt Sadie lift her head, looking in the direction of the door, and
she gave a soft sort of *whuph* of a bark, before she settled back down
again, and that was the reason that Jensen stayed where he was, too.
Because he was warm and comfortable and it wasn't like Jared didn't
know the routine, too.
He even let his eyes drift shut again, only to open them again when
Sadie's tail started thumping against his leg, and there Jared was,
standing just inside the living room door, his grin wider and brighter
than Jensen thought it should be after a full day of filming.
"Hey," Jared said softly, walking across the room, in front of the TV
with—well, Jensen had no clue what was on right now, actually—and then
he didn't care, because Jared was crouching down in front of the couch,
reaching out a hand to scratch Sadie's ears, then to give Jensen's
shoulder a squeeze.
"Hey," Jensen said.
"So I see you made yourself at home," Jared said, and Jensen said,
"Yeah, well. I tried."
Then Jared was shooing Sadie off the couch and leaning in, slowly, nose
bumping at Jensen's before their lips finally touched, parting, and
Jensen thought, Home, yeah. Home.
End.