strangeallure | Fic: Candy Talks, J2, PG-13

Title: Candy Talks
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jensen can tell Jared's moods just from the type of candy he's eating.
Word Count: ~2,300
Warnings: sweetness, candy, commas
Disclaimer: In an alternate universe, this is exactly how it happened.

A/N: Written for

dugindeep's PostSecret comment fic meme Can You Keep A Secret? Because I suck at short and sweet, this grew beyond comment-fic size. Prompt can be found here, where

itskaylie already wrote fic for it.

Feedback is much appreciated. Happy SPN Day, everyone!

Candy Talks

Most people think Jared is just this friendly, laid-back guy, who’s always relaxed, always happy, never thinking too much. That he’s content to be muddling and flirting his way through life with a grin on his face and a bag of candy in his hand.

But Jensen knows better.

Over the years they've lived together, Jensen realized two main things about Jared: one, that Jared’s personality is, indeed, not stuck on naïve and happy – and two, that you can tell Jared’s moods without even talking to him.

All you need to do is pay attention to all the candy disappearing into Jared’s mouth every day. Jensen’s not always the most sociable guy, but he’s pretty observant – and after two years of being roommates, Jensen knows Jared's candy language pretty well.

When Jared's happy, he eats Twizzlers, making funny faces and fashioning them into weird shapes or gummy teeth hanging from his mouth.

When he's bored, Jared likes Skittles, popping one after the other into his mouth in quick succession, sorting them by color, throwing them into the air and catching them with his mouth.

Jared stacking up on Coffee Candy and Snickers Marathon bars means he forgot yet another deadline and has to pull an all-nighter again.

When he's worried, like when his dog had to undergo surgery and they waited for hours at the vet clinic, Jared opts for LifeSavers – no lie –, if possible in butter rum flavor.

And when Jared's stressed, it's either Jawbreakers (which always makes Jensen fear for Jared’s molars) or peanut M&Ms.

So yeah, when Jensen comes home and sees Jared munching on a bag of Baskin Robbins Smooth & Creamy, he knows Jared is going on a date.

It’s not that it’s out of the ordinary, really. Jared has his fair share of first dates, but pretty much no thirds. He’s picky that way, and Jensen doesn’t think it’s a bad thing. Jensen’s picky, too. He hasn’t even bothered going on a date in a long while.

“Hot date tonight?” he asks as he toes off his shoes.

“The candy psychic strikes again,” Jared grins and pops another piece into his mouth.

There was one tequila-heavy night where Jensen might or might not have explained his candy language theory to Jared – very earnestly and in great detail, insisting that Jared’s subconscious was trying to communicate with the surrounding world via sweets consumption.

At first, Jared had laughed it off – “Jensen, I don’t even think I have a subconscious. I’m a what you see is what you get kind of guy.” – but after a while, when he realized how good Jensen really was at reading his moods, Jared had to concede the point. Jensen still remembers the smug, even proud, feeling when Jared admitted that he might have a subconscious after all, and that it might be having a candy addiction, too.

So anyway, when Jared goes out with Genevieve for the first time, it doesn’t bother Jensen at all. Jared’s young and attractive and trying out his options. But then there’s a second date and a third – and even a fourth, which surprises Jensen more than it maybe should.

Soon enough, Jared is throwing several bags of marshmallows into their shopping cart when they do their grocery run on Saturday.

Jensen can’t help raising his eyebrows. The last time he saw Jared eating marshmallows, they hadn’t even been roommates yet. It had been when they first met, when Jared was still together and still happy with Sandy. Marshmallows, Jensen knows that much, are commitment candy.

“What?” Jared smirks. “Do the marshmallows say something awful about me? Are you afraid I’ll murder you in your sleep once I eat them or something?”

“No,” Jensen replies, “no, of course not. It’s just that …” And he should probably not say anything more, but somehow, there are more words coming out of his mouth: “It’s just – Genevieve didn’t strike me as marshmallow material.”

“What?” Jared’s confused, and Jensen can’t blame him.

He knows he should stop right there, knows he shouldn’t say it – but there’s this strange feeling in his gut, and he thinks there’s probably a headache coming on, and he can’t stop himself.

“She’s nice and all, but I didn’t think it’d be a long-time thing. I thought you’d go for someone else, someone who shares more of your interests and stuff …” He trails off, Jared’s face telling him what a bad idea it really was to say this.

“What the fuck, Jensen?” Jared’s standing next to their shopping cart, arms spread and forehead scrunched up, looking angry and bewildered at the same time. Jensen can’t blame him.

“I. I’m sorry, Jared. I shouldn’t have said this. It’s none of my business, I just …” Jensen stammers out. He doesn’t even know why he said it himself. Doesn’t even know where the thoughts and words came from. He feels strange and awful, not okay. He has to get away.

“You know what,” he rushes out, “I forgot something. It’s important. I’ll give you the money later. Gotta run.”

And he literally runs from the store, runs from Jared.

--

They don’t talk about it, pretend it didn’t happen, and after a few days, Jensen can finally believe that Jared will let it slide. It helps him to really relax again.

A week later, they sit on the couch and play Mario Kart like nothing ever happened.

Jensen kicks Jared’s ass, which he almost never does, and he jumps up and hoots and crows, rubbing his victory in Jared’s face. “Take that, Donkey Kong!”

After he’s finished with a little impromptu dance routine, Jensen finally takes a real look at Jared, only to see that he’s gone quiet, face earnest.

“I broke up with Genevieve yesterday,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen sits down. He doesn’t really know how to react to that, so he settles for “I’m sorry,” and an awkward pat on Jared’s knee.

“You were right, you know? Even if you were an asshole about it.” Jared huffs a laugh. “She wasn’t what I really wanted. We weren’t really … compatible. Not enough in common, even though she’s a great girl.”

Jensen just sits there, watching, waiting.

Jared puts his controller on the coffee table and looks down at his hands. “I want someone who likes barbeque and Mario Kart and the Cowboys, even when they break their heart,” he starts, and he sounds a little weird, tentative. “I want someone who doesn’t mind dirty dishes in the kitchen or cold pizza for breakfast.” Jared looks up at Jensen as he continues, his voice soft but steady. “I want someone who’ll watch bad horror films and mindless action movies with me.”

Jensen thinks he’s starting to get it, like he has a sense of where this is going, but he really can’t believe it, can’t believe it’s happening. All he can do is keep listening, keep watching Jared.

“I want someone who likes country rock, but hates alternative boys with guitars. Someone who won’t mind if I burp or am too loud or that I have no fashion sense.”

Without conscious thought, Jensen’s lips tug up a little at that, because yeah, Jared’s always a little too loud, too enthusiastic, and not exactly Miss Manners material. It’s not like Jensen would mind.

Jared glances up at Jensen and takes his hand. “I want someone who’s really interested in me, who wants to figure me out.” Jared smiles almost shyly, cocking his head in that way that makes him seem so much younger. “Someone who knows me so well he can tell my mood from the candy I eat.”

Their eyes are locked, and Jensen can’t look away. He can’t do anything. He never … It’s not like …

Jared laughs, a little nervously, and runs his hand through his hair – the one that’s not holding Jensen’s right now, that is. The one that’s not making his skin feel warm and tingly. The one that doesn’t feel heavy and solid and good in his palm.

Jensen still hasn’t said anything, hasn’t reacted, he knows, and finally Jared clears his throat.

“In case you missed it: I just said that I want to … you know, be with you.” There’s another nervous smile, but his eyes are bright and kind of hopeful.

“Jared,” Jensen says, the word tumbling out of his mouth, rougher and more brittle than ever before. “I … You … I’m not sure that’s …” he’s anxious, almost panicky, and the way the light in Jared’s eyes starts to fade doesn’t make it any better.

Jensen needs to think. He needs air. He needs to leave.

“It’s probably not …” he disentangles his hand from Jared’s, and Jared lets him.

Quickly, Jensen walks to the door, grabbing his keys and sneakers.

“I need to go out.” It’s wrong and mean and some part of Jensen knows that he can’t just leave Jared like this. He throws a smile into the general direction of Jared, not able to look at him right now, not willing to risk making eye contact.

“I’ll be back,” he says. It’s all he can give right now.

He goes to the stairwell and sits down on the steps to put on his shoes; his thoughts swirling inside his head, fast and jumbled and not making sense.

As soon as he’s left the house, he starts walking, quickly falling into a light jog. He breathes in the mixture of night air and exhaust fumes, and his thoughts circle and circle as his body moves.

He thinks of all the time he and Jared spend together, of all the little things they do. Watching football, going to concerts, playing videogames. Groceries on Saturday, laundry whenever.

Jared’s the only person Jensen doesn’t really get tired of. The only person who always lets him be when he’s in one of his strange moods or if he just doesn’t feel like explaining himself.

With Jared, everything’s always so relaxed, good and easy and fun. And Jensen doesn’t want to risk it, doesn’t want to lose it.

He keeps running.

--

It’s almost an hour later when Jensen comes home. The lights are out, and for a moment he thinks that Jared went out or is in bed already, but then he sees light coming through the crack under Jared’s door.

Jensen’s a little uncertain, a little afraid of talking to Jared. He knocks on his door anyway.

When Jared opens, he looks tired and a bit rumpled, like he was trying to sleep, even though the lights were on.

“Hey,” he says in a scratchy voice, holding the door open with his arm. He doesn’t let Jensen in, he doesn’t kick him out.

Jensen feels like it’s all on him now, like it’s his responsibility to fix things.

His hands are fists as he starts to talk. He tells Jared how surprised he was earlier, how confused, how good it is what they’re having, and that he doesn’t want to risk it, doesn’t want to not have it anymore.

Jared nods slowly, pressing his lips together.

“I was running, and I was thinking all these thoughts,” Jensen says. “Down at the corner of Wiltshire, Wegman’s was still open. So I went in to get a bottle of water, and there was the candy aisle and …” He shrugs helplessly, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

“And I thought of how I felt when you bought the marshmallows. And how there will be someone else in the future. Someone who likes Mario Kart and horror movies and the Cowboys.” The smile on his face doesn’t feel quite right, and he fixes a spot over Jared’s shoulder with his eyes.

“And maybe, you know, maybe it’s not such a big risk. Not when you know someone and when you like someone and want to spend all your time with someone.” He tries to be honest and explain his thoughts the best he can.

He can’t look at Jared, but he can stretch out his hand to him.

“I looked for this – and they only had it in a huge variety pack, and it’s a crappy gesture, I know. But it’s still candy, and I thought …” He breaks off and opens up his hand.

Slowly, he looks up at Jared.

Jared, whose hand is reaching out, too, and who’s taking the piece of candy from Jensen’s palm.

It’s kitschy and heart-shaped and probably a little sweaty from Jensen’s tight grip. But that’s not important. What’s important is that it says, “Be mine.”

And what’s even more important is that Jared pops it into his mouth and moves closer.

His hands slide onto Jensen’s waist and pull him in. He puts their foreheads together and smiles, giving Jensen a small peck, then another one and another. It’s easy and feels good.

Jensen doesn’t even make a conscious decision, he just winds his arms around Jared, just so, just right, and he pulls until they’re flush together, touching as much of their bodies together as possible.

He opens his mouth a little and seals it over Jared’s, lips sliding together with a little wetness and only a touch of tongue. Jared’s hands rub over his back lightly, and he begins licking into Jensen’s mouth.

Jensen can taste the sugar-sweetness of the candy dissolving in Jared’s mouth, and he smiles into the kiss.

Jared must understand why, because he smiles, too, and then deepens the kiss.

After a long while, Jared pulls away a little, still holding Jensen tight.

His eyes are soft and a little unfocused, and he smiles, dimples and white teeth and reddened wet lips that make Jensen think, I did that.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes against Jensen's mouth. “What the candy said.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

dugindeep.livejournal.com

Ooooooh! I loved this! I love that Jensen returns it with the candy. Sigh, boys!

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Fic: Candy Talks, J2, PG-13

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