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Jared hesitantly opens the door to Jensen’s bedroom. “Jensen? You up?”
“Yeah,” answers Jensen, his voice rough and strained.
Jared sits down on the edge of the bed. “I just checked the weather.”
“Anything good?”
“Storm’s coming,” Jared tells him with a small smile. “Not a supercell, but should be a humdinger of a thunderstorm.”
Jensen’s eyes light up with interest. “I wanna go to the living room,” he says, pushing himself up on one elbow.
Jared slips a hand behind Jensen’s back and eases him up to sitting. He’s had an infection for almost a week now, but the antibiotics started working a couple days ago and he’s gaining strength every day. Still, he needs help doing almost everything, and he’s in a lot of pain.
Jensen’s wheelchair is parked at the end of the bed, so Jared brings it close and locks the brakes. As gently as he can, he scoops Jensen up and sits him in the chair, which has one leg rest stretched straight out to keep his injured foot elevated. Jensen nods, which is as close to an expression of gratitude as Jensen will ever give him, and Jared wheels him out to the living room.
“Open the blinds,” commands Jensen.
“Gimme a minute.” Jared parks Jensen next to the couch. “You wanna get out of the chair or not?”
“I wanna get out,” says Jensen. “But do the blinds first.”
“You got it.” Jared raises all the blinds to the top of the windowsill and locks them in place. The sky is almost black already; it’s too dim in the living room to see Jensen’s photos on the walls.
Jared eases Jensen onto the couch and pulls an ottoman over to support Jensen’s left foot. It’s the skin graft that’s infected, so Jared knows that Jensen suffers severe pain every time that leg is moved, but he endures it with a silence and stubbornness that Jared both admires and despises.
“How’s the pain?” asks Jared in a low voice.
Jensen just shrugs. “About a 7.”
“When did you last take your meds?”
“Two hours ago,” answers Jensen. “Too early.”
Jared pulls his phone out of his pocket and sets a timer for two hours to let him know when he can give Jensen another pill. “You want anything to drink?”
Jensen nods. “I’d love some coffee, but I think I’ll stick with tea.”
Jared smiles softly. “You got it.” He goes and retrieves the teabags—chamomile for Jensen, Earl Grey for himself—and fills the electric kettle with water. Once it boils, he pours out two mugs and adds a generous dollop of honey to each.
When Jared returns to the living room, it’s raining. Big fat drops spatter the picture window. Lightning flashes, but the answering thunder is low and far away. It’ll be awhile till it gets to them.
He hands Jensen the mug of tea and sits down on the couch next to him. He sets his own tea on the table and grabs the blue and white afghan that Alona’s grandmother made for him when he was in the hospital. It’s soft and lightweight, perfect for rainy spring days. He puts his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and pulls the afghan over both of them.
Jensen sips his tea. “I missed this.”
“Watching storms?”
“Not just that,” replies Jensen. “Time with you.”
Jared sighs. “I know. But I don’t want to smother you. I want you to have your space.”
“Don’t always need space.” Jensen leans into Jared and nestles his head between Jared’s neck and shoulder. “Sometimes I wanna be close to you.”
“You need to tell me these things,” Jared admonishes him lightly.
Jensen shrugs, and Jared feels it against his side. “Not good at that.”
“Something to work on, then.”
“I’ll try.”
The thunder rumbles, a little bit closer than it was, and the rain streams down the glass, blurring the house across the street into an unrecognizable swirl of color. Lightning flashes once, then twice, and more thunder follows.
“I dream about it,” says Jensen after a long moment’s silence.
“About what?”
“Storms.” Jensen sighs. “Chasing. Normal life.”
“You’ll get back to it,” Jared assures him. “Not this year, probably, but next year for sure.”
“So I got a year to whip you into shape,” teases Jensen, smirking.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about that,” says Jared.
Jensen’s eyes narrow. “What?”
Jared takes a deep breath. “I applied to OU for the fall semester. I never technically graduated, and some of my credits will transfer. I’m gonna get a meteorology degree, if I ever get out of prereq math.”
Jensen’s silent for a long moment, and Jared frowns, worried that Jensen disapproves. But then Jensen nods. “Good. You love school, and it’ll be nice to share the workload.”
Jared smiles. Classic Jensen. “I only love school because I’m so good at it. This is my chance to be good at something else.”
“Well, you got a good start.” Jensen smirks. “I made sure of that.”
Jared nudges Jensen’s shoulder with his own. “Your teaching skills are absolute crap, but I still learned a lot from you anyway.”
“Just don’t expect me to help you with your homework.”
Jared chuckles. “Duly noted.”
The lightning flash is longer and brighter this time, and the thunder louder and longer. It’s getting closer, close enough to really give them a show. Jared grins. “It’s almost here.”
“Good.” Jensen’s hand closes around Jared’s underneath the afghan. “Thank you for this.”
Jared smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“I love you,” Jensen murmurs, almost too low to be heard over the pounding rain and thunder.
Jared squeezes Jensen’s hand. “I love you, too.”
The lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, and for a moment, everything is right with the world.