The American Bachelor (3/3)

[dugindeep]

Previous







When Jared returns from a late dinner with Aunt Sam, he’s too distracted to notice the black limousine parked in front of his building until he realizes there are two secret service agents up on the front porch flanking the door.

He stops at the foot of the steps and spots another few agents up and down the sidewalk in either direction. His palms begin to sweat and his mind races because these aren’t agents he’s seen before … and after nearly four weeks of spending time … seeing? … dating? … Jensen, Jared has seen his fair share of men in black.

His mind reels for brand new reasons as he imagines any one of Jensen’s footmen—maybe the chief of staff or the communications director, hell, even the head of the CIA—showing up at his place to head off his association with the President of the United States.

Jared wouldn’t be all that shocked; worse things happen in the movies, often based on true stories.

The agents don’t budge when Jared takes the first step, so he boldly takes two more, and another two, until he’s in the lobby of his building and finds another two agents outside the door to his apartment.

“Is there a problem?” he asks as evenly as possible.

“No, sir,” the one on the right says, and then turns the knob on Jared’s door and pushes it open for Jared to go on in.

He slowly enters as he combs for anything out of place, but most of the lights are still out, like he left them this morning. Nothing seems out of place, though a sudden voice makes him jump.

“It’s nice in here. Comfy.”

“Jesus!” Jared shouts then flinches when the agents at the door step inside his apartment.

Jensen holds a hand up and tells the men, “Stand down. No fuss here.” He adds, “And get the door,” once they’re back in the hallway.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Jared yells, a bit quieter, yet still forceful. Jensen simply smiles and takes a seat in the corner of the sectional couch. “Why are you here? And why is there a detail hovering around my place?”

“I can’t really get around on my own, you know.”

Jared sighs at how casual Jensen sounds, even when he’s beginning to feel a light quiver of excitement that Jensen has shown up at Jared’s, instead of summoning Jared to the White House whenever and however.

(Email, text, phone, even a messenger service has hailed Jared. If Jensen hadn’t been working hard on courting Jared once in his presence, Jared would begin to question if he’s more than just a Presidential booty call. Which is definitely not a title Jared ever imagined on his resume.)

“But you’re here …” Jared sits at the edge of a cushion next to Jensen, turns to face him, and keeps his hands clutched together in his lap. There is enough firepower outside to take him out for one stray touch. “In my place?”

Jensen smirks. “Glad I didn’t get the address wrong.”

“How did you get inside?”

Now he tips his head with drawn eyebrows, a whole come on vibe growing strong. “I’ve got the NSA on speed dial. You think I can’t manage getting past a couple of deadbolts?”

Jared finally relaxes and leans back into the cushions, and he feels further comfort in Jensen’s arm lifting up and around Jared’s shoulders. “I was afraid you’d sent the CIA to kill me instead.”

Through a small chuckle, Jensen tilts Jared’s head closer and kisses him tenderly. It’s happened more than enough times, but having it happen here, in Jared’s home, feels even more surreal than having dinner in the Residence. “I would never,” he softly insists when he pulls back. Then he nudges Jared’s shoulder. “How was work?”

Jared shrugs, frowns. There’s a lot weighing on him, but he’s not sure it’s something to really share with Jensen (who will always be the President to Jared, no matter what happens between them when they’re alone).

“Tell me,” Jensen murmurs.

It takes time to formulate an answer. Aunt Sam discussed selling the business, and Jared suggested buying it himself. It’s a huge decision either way and he doesn’t want Jensen influencing him. “I don’t wanna worry about that right now.”

“Okay, then what do you want to do?” Jensen asks so casually that Jared is shocked that Jensen’s letting it go.

“Uh …”

“Watch TV?”

Jared shrugs and grabs the remote, settling closer to Jensen on the couch. “Sure, what do you want to watch?”

Jensen chuckles. “I don’t really know what’s on this time of night.”

“Or ever?” Jared jokes.

“I know when Meet the Press is on, and when Sarah Mason appears on Fox Friends & Family to light my ass.”

“Which is all terrible, all around.”

Jensen smirks as he combs some hair away from Jared’s face. “Preaching to the choir here.”

Jared flinches at the tickle each touch brings about and even shifts to the side. “Stop, that—”

“Tickles?” Jensen asks in a soft, warm voice.

It does, but he insists, “No, it’s distracting.”

Jensen runs his finger around the shell of Jared’s ear, eyes watching the movement the whole time, which seems even more distracting than before. “Distracting you from what?”

Jared moves a full cushion over and blurts out, “You have a dozen guys outside and you’re finally going to seduce me?” When the words register to his ears, he slaps a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes in horror and shame.

Jensen shuffles next to Jared again, dipping to look up at Jared’s bowed head. “Do you want me to seduce you?”

He opens one eye, thankful Jensen seems terribly amused rather than confused or annoyed. “Like I’d say no to that?” They chuckle together, but Jared holds firm to his seat when Jensen tries to pull him forward. “But, again, there are like 15 agents outside, not to mention right there, behind that door.”

“They’re there to protect me, Jared. Not listen in on anything.”

Jared knows that, it makes perfect sense; however, he can’t get his mind past the idea that the Secret Service will soon find out what they sound like the first time they make love.

… Make love.

That stalls Jared. Stalls him hard.

It’s been two months of seeing one another and Jared would like to consider it dating, as each evening progresses beyond the one before. They’ve had long conversations about their youth, education, even Jensen’s late husband and Jared’s intentions to own his own shop someday. There’ve been an uncountable number of kisses at the beginning of dinner, at the end, just before being interrupted by any number of Jensen’s staff. Every evening they’ve seen one another has been crashed by a very important meeting, phone call, or press release to rake through …

And here they are finally alone without interruption. Jared’s head immediately spins, worse when he tries to stand and collect his thoughts.

Jensen rises and stands before him, and now Jared can aptly see beneath the smooth, professional armor of America’s most well-known politician, and detect the vulnerability of a man Jared could have met anywhere in the world.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says quickly, determined, so unlike the helpless way he shifts in all kinds of directions. “This was ridiculous, and I didn’t mean to assume anything, or push you into something that—”

Just like the third dinner, when Jared learned he had to take charge to show his true feelings, he pulls Jensen in with hands framing his face, and takes over his mouth. It’s quick and frantic at first then mellows out to something more intimate and imploring.

Continuing to show Jensen how he feels, rather than telling, he slides his hands up beneath Jensen’s coat, moving over his ribs then back down to his hips. He moves around to Jensen’s back and drags his hands up and down before tugging Jensen along to the bedroom in the furthest corner of the apartment.

Without switching on any lights, they undress in between deep, wet, sucking kisses, and before long, they’re both naked on the wide mattress. Jensen leans over Jared, brushes errant bangs away from his forehead, while Jared runs his hand up and down Jensen’s arm that’s resting across Jared’s chest.

Slowly, Jensen’s lips tip up in a soft smile and Jared returns it. He thinks he reads a lot in Jensen’s wide eyes and the slight tilt of his mouth, but he doesn’t question it right now. Not when Jensen is leaning forward to trail a path down Jared’s chest with his wet, plump lips. Jared arches into the kisses and cups the back of Jensen’s head, guiding but not forcing, as Jensen licks a stripe up the length of Jared’s already extremely hard dick. He taunts and tempts Jared for far too long with just long runs of his tongue from the base to the tip, closing his eyes and letting out tiny noises of ecstasy that drive Jared crazy enough to twist the bedsheets in his hands and stretch his body as far as possible in trying to maintain some restraint.

The last thing he wants to do is totally jump the President’s bones.

Except, he is asked to do exactly that.

In more proper terms, sure, but Jared is just as rattled when Jensen quietly asks, “I want you … to take me … okay?”

Unfortunately Jared’s brain has already short-circuited, especially with the view of Jensen running his lower lip over the top of Jared’s hard-as-nails dick. “Take you where?”

Thankfully, Jensen laughs then comes up to Jared’s level for a smattering of kisses until he turns them over so Jared now rests over him. Jared’s brain shifts back into gear, and now he’s got this right where he wants it, along with Jensen’s dick, which is firm and warm and a nice weight in his palm. He strokes Jensen a few times, wrenches his wrist just right to hear Jensen whine and see him squirm. Moments later, he’s got lube and a condom out, and gets his fingers ready to open Jensen.

It takes some time from there—more like, Jared takes his time to get Jensen riled up and ready, but once he is, Jared takes even more time to slide himself in. Inch by inch. All the way to the base. He sets his palms to the mattress on either side of Jensen’s head and watches as Jensen’s eyes clench tight then slowly open to reveal arousal and hunger. Jared tests a few shallow thrusts and continues to watch Jensen’s pupils narrow then grow wide when Jared follows through, getting a bit deeper each time.

As Jensen adjusts and widens his knees, Jared settles into an easy tempo and relishes every noise coming from Jensen’s mouth, every touch of the man’s hands on his body, and every single twitch and shiver he makes when Jared hits the right spot. Jared pushes in a bit further and grinds his hips into Jensen’s, drops himself so they’re touching from the shoulders on thighs, and weighs Jensen down so Jared has full control … just as Jensen pleads for him to take.

Obviously, the man in control likes to relinquish that every now and again, and Jared smiles and kisses Jensen as he continues to slowly fuck him into another world. He’s glad to have some leverage here, happy to make Jensen blissful and sated, which happens much quicker than he had planned. Jensen, too, given the way his wide eyes now show fear and embarrassment once he’s quickly come between them with only one quick shout as warning.

Jared chuckles then kisses Jensen again, and again, and again. And all while they separate to reposition on the bed and Jensen fists him to the end.

After, Jared is tired, groggy, and a bit shell-shocked that this actually happened. Jensen doesn’t seem to be, for he settles comfortably along Jared’s side, shoulder tucked beneath Jared’s, head resting on Jared’s arm, and watching the same shifting shadows on the ceiling when cars pass under streetlamps outside.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says quietly. “It’s been a while.”

Jared thinks on it, searches for the appropriate reply, and ends up laughing and turning into Jensen. He buries his head right alongside Jensen’s, still snickering, and kisses Jensen’s ear. “Don’t even. It just boosts my ego.”

“Glad it worked out for you.”

Snuggling in closer, Jared slings his arm over Jensen’s chest, fingers just barely tapping along Jensen’s side. “It definitely did,” he murmurs before falling asleep completely satisfied.







Jensen stands in the East Sitting Halls, hands tucked into his pants’ pockets, and watches Nola stretch her arms out like a product model and tell Jared all about the Lincoln Bedroom.

“This was his actual bed,” she says before sitting on the mattress and bouncing up and down.

Jared moves to the southeast wall and nods while looking at the painting of Lincoln hung just above the vanity. “You know, he was a pretty tall guy?” he asks her, but it sounds more like a joke than any real inquiry.

“Taller than you.”

“There aren’t many like that out there, you know?”

“That’s too bad.”

Jensen covers his mouth to stifle laughter and continues to watch Jared take in the whole room, including glancing out the golden-draped windows, flicking the edges of the plant in the corner, and running his fingers over the dark rosewood headboard. “Is it really haunted in here?”

Nola rolls over to her stomach to watch Jared. “I dunno. They keep saying to stay out of here at night, but I haven’t gotten any on tape yet.”

“You try to tape them?”

“A couple times. Daddy doesn’t know yet.”

Of course, Jensen finds this a particularly perfect time to interrupt, even if he’s grown to adore eavesdropping on Jared and Nola’s meet-ups. “Daddy knows now.”

Nola bolts upright and runs to him. “You’re home!”

He pulls her up into his arms, which is becoming a tougher feat each time. She’s growing like a weed, or maybe he just doesn’t see her enough to witness the growth spurts himself. He’s been gone for a week and a half now, traipsing up and down the eastern coast of South America, with a few days spent visiting teams at the World Cup. Diplomacy does have some perks, and he rather loved watching the professionals out on the field.

But he never misses his daughter more than his time abroad, so he hugs the daylights out of her, ignoring her choked pleas to let her go. “Missed you, pumpkin.”

“Missed you, too,” she whispers at his ear.

He leans back to eye her. “It’s well past your bedtime, ain’t it?”

“I was just keeping Jared company.”

“Yeah, I heard.” He now takes in Jared, who’s gently smiling in return. “You did a great job of that.”

“She really did,” Jared agrees.

“I’m glad to hear.” Jensen smiles at each of them then puts on a playful pout for his daughter. “But I think it’s about time you get put to bed.” He adds over her whining, “Of course, with another Abe the Vampire Slayer tale to get you right into dreamland.”

She relents on that, waving good night to Jared as Jensen walks them across the hall and to her bedroom. He reads her two entries tonight, on account of how closely she’s tucked up against him, fingers lightly scratching at the cotton of his U.S. Air Force polo. He strokes her now mousy brown hair, whispers I love yous in a variety of ways, then tucks her into bed and shuts off the lights.

He stays in the doorway and watches her for a few extra moments until she is completely engulfed in blankets and turned to her right, the way she’s slept ever since she was a young toddler.

When he joins Jared in the Lincoln Bedroom, they’re both quiet even with Nola’s and the Lincoln door closed.

As he closes the distance between them, Jared smiles and licks his lower lip. “So,” Jared asks, “all your duties are done for the day?”

“Almost done,” he murmurs, running his hands down Jared’s arms. He closes his hands around Jared’s hands then walks him towards the bed. “Presidential duties? Check. Daddy duties? Check. Taking care of the common man? Almost check.”

Jared nervously chuckles and sits at the edge of the mattress when Jensen bumps him up against it. Once Jensen is down on his knees and going for Jared’s belt and fly, Jared sucks in a quick breath and his eyes widen almost comically. “Seriously? In the Lincoln Bedroom?”

“Did you want to try another room? The Truman Balcony or the Treaty Room?” Jensen’s only partly joking; he does wonder if it really is going to be an issue for Jared to mess around in the White House … or maybe at all. Maybe that night at Jared’s was a one-time thing that won’t go anywhere else.

“God, that sounds even worse,” Jared replies with a quick, loud breath. “I just thought it might be inappropriate?”

The way Jared’s voice rises makes Jensen laugh, and he goes on to rub Jared through his pants. In seconds, Jensen can feel Jared’s dick fattening up and getting some added length to it. “We’re in the White House. It’s all kind of inappropriate. Kennedy, Clinton, Roosevelt …”

“Which Roosevelt?” Jared asks around a sigh.

Jensen grins at how quickly Jared has gone from worried to blissed out. “Probably both.”

Jared’s hips slowly shift into Jensen’s hand, so Jensen increases the pressure, especially when Jared falls back onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling. “What if it really is haunted?”

Jensen takes this as a sure sign to keep going, to give them another good night together, even when it’s tucked between his always-busy schedule. He pulls Jared’s zipper down, slips his hand inside, and watches Jared bite his bottom lip and shiver with every touch Jensen makes. “You keep an eye out for that, and I’ll take care of business here.”

A quick moan precedes Jared’s hips lifting up off the mattress. “It’s a deal.”







“So you’re at the magic number,” Danneel says as she steps up to Jared at the floral counter.

He’s spreading a few deep purple dahlias with lilacs and white carnations for a birthday arrangement. He narrows his eyes to the exact positioning of each flower, as well as at her comment. “Magic number for what?”

“For you and the Prez, for when you guys figure out if you’re just fucking around or really want to do something.”

“Danni,” he sighs and rolls his eyes, “how many times do I have to tell you? Watch your language around the children.”

“This child looks a little dull,” she replies, tugging a small carnation out of the vase. “But seriously. Three months is when it happens … when you decide if you’re gonna really give it a go.”

“Says the girl who sleeps with half our customers.”

She swats his shoulder. “Don’t shame me because I have a healthy appetite. When I meet a good guy, I’ll be good and ready to settle down.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Jared winks at her to cut through the comment then stares at the flowers as he thinks over what she’s saying. “I don’t know what’s really going on,” he admits. “I mean, it’s not like I imagine us living together in the White House or anything.”

“But you would if he asked …”

Jared laughs. “Of course I would, dummy. It’s the White House.”

“And it’s the President of the United States,” she adds on.

“And … he’s pretty awesome, otherwise.” He finds himself aimlessly smiling while touching a number of petals, admiring his work and trying to see if there’s anything out of place in the arrangement. And maybe even in his relationship with Jensen.

“You’re smitten,” Danneel sing-songs.

He scowls instantly and moves the vase out of his sight. “Am not.”

“You’re smitten like a kitten!”

Jared can see through the open window that a few customers have turned their way. Aunt Samantha even pops her head into the opening to shush them.

“See,” he whispers, “now you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“You love him,” Danneel quietly sings, “you want to marry him, and have his babies.”

Even as he shushes her up, he has to admit he goes on for a few hours with a warm smile.







“Send him on in,” Jensen tells Felicia and puts the phone down with a smile.

Jared’s shown up at the front entrance on an impromptu visit … well, as impromptu as three security checks and a sit-down in the Roosevelt room can be. Maybe he’ll bring Jared into the Oval and check out the view of the garden or the massive eagle seal in the center of the room.

At the thought of having Jared in here, Jensen looks up to the center of the ceiling where he knows a tiny camera keeps an eye on the room, protecting and spying on him in equal measure.

He rises from his desk and buttons his suit jacket over his vest when he hears Katie’s outrageous shouting somewhere beyond the thick Oval Office walls, which tells him they’re all in great trouble.

“He what?” she yells again, followed by heavy footsteps out in the main hall, drawing near to his office. “Tim, did you know about this? Did you, Dick? Did anyone? If this is true then we need to get out ahead of it and fast. Get him on film and present it right.”

He opens the door between the Oval and the Chief of Staff’s office and glares at Katie’s aggressive stance over Tim’s desk with her hands planted on the surface. “Is there a problem here?” he asks quite harshly. He knows they’re all a bit of a rag-tag bunch, but he’s always wanted to put on a professional front to the rest of the White House.

Katie quickly stands at attention while Tim leans back in his chair and strokes his beard. “Go on, Katie, why don’t you ask the President yourself.”

When she remains quiet, biting into the corner of her cheek with anxiety, Jensen glances around the room and motions at Richard sitting on Tim’s leather couch. “Do you know what she’s going on about?”

Richard points back to Katie, and Jensen’s not up for any bullshit right now.

“The next time you want to have a tantrum,” he insists, “I suggest you do it on your own time and in your own office, not steps away from mine.”

Katie opens her mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.

“Yes, Katie?”

“Nothing sir. I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be … acting like a lunatic.” He sighs and turns back to his office when she clears her throat.

“But, sir?”

He slowly turns around, shocked by the insistence covering any kind of humility in her prompt. He eyes her for a long, quiet moment to purposely unnerve her. “Yes, Ms. Cassidy?”

“My apologies, in advance,” Katie says slowly, as if building up the confidence to ask a real question. “But Thompson from the Cole Hart show has a lead on some personal information.”

He’s not sure if he should be bothered or bored of this conversation already. Cole Hart is a useless radio joke, and keeps Sarah Mason employed and on TV with her violent drivel. Thompson is almost as awful a reporter, except that he actually thinks he’s fighting the good fight with truth and kindness. “Are we supposed to be worried?” he asks with a laugh.

“He says you’ve been …”

The way Katie trails off and refuses to return his stern look aggravates him even more. “I’ve been what?” He glances at his Chief of Staff and his Head Policy Writer. “Anyone want to help her out? What does Thompson think I’ve been doing?”

Tim lifts his chin, lightly smirking behind the tufts of his overgrown beard. “He thinks you’ve been bedding someone.”

Jensen narrows his eyes to cover up the heavy thump in his chest and the swirling of his stomach. He thought he’d been smart about keeping Jared close, yet not too close, insisting on the Local Business Owners Symposium lie, scheduling their meet-ups later in the evenings and mostly at the Residence. But maybe not.

“Excuse me?” Jensen asks after a long silence.

Richard leans forward, and even with his head bowed he boldly says, “He thinks you’re screwing around—”

“Yeah, I get it!” Jensen yells to shut him up. “It’s just the most ridiculous thing to say.” He laughs to further ignore the shock filling his system. “If Thompson is publishing it in those words, then I’m not worried at all.”

Katie clears her throat. “Sir, he says he has sources close to the White House who have seen you two together.”

“Like who?”

She shrugs. “Anonymous sources. Ones who say you’ve had a man here for dinner and you’ve gone out to see him.”

Jensen bitterly laughs again. “You think I’m getting out of here without someone noticing? Wouldn’t it be much bigger news by now?”

“This could be a big deal,” Richard points out.

“I do not believe any of this shit,” Jensen announces. He rolls his eyes and returns to the Oval. They all follow him and he can feel the anxiety pooling right between his shoulders and lower back. “This is ridiculous. We’re not discussing it.”

“Sir, if there is someone, we can get you two out there together.” Katie goes on with a softer approach, as if she’s ready to send out wedding invitations and hang hearts all around the White House. “We can get some pictures, a few interviews with him? We just need to set the tone that it’s not just screwing around, but play it like finding your next love.”

“No, absolutely not!” he barks while sifting through items on his desk to avoid the insistent stares of his staff.

“Some strategically set dates won’t hurt,” Richard suggests. “A little wining and dining. Fake dating is better than no dating.”

“I’m not fake dating anyone!” he shouts and drops a file to his desk before glaring at them. “No dating of any kind.”

There’s movement, something brown then something red, from the corner of his eye and he prays for a great distraction from this topic. Standing in the doorway from the Secretary’s Office are Felicia and … Jared, who could have been here for the whole conversation or only the last statement of a President intent on keeping his personal life personal.

He’s certain he sounded like a raving, heartless man who isn’t thinking of the man he’s spent the last few months with more often than not. Even in between staff meetings and briefings with Admiral Morgan and dedicating more time to reading with Nola, Jared’s still in his mind, and maybe in another place as well …

They stare at one another, and Jensen can’t find the words to explain what’s happening, or even to dismiss his staff and get about his day.

“Uh, bad time,” Felicia mumbles then tugs Jared back into her office and shuts the door.

Jensen watches the door for a few more moments, dying to figure out what he should be doing now … protect himself from his meddling staff, talk with Jared, pretend none of this has happened and that he has more important items on the docket.

Slowly he turns to his staff, eying them one by one. No one says a word; it’s quiet enough, they can hear beyond the door, where Felicia tells Jared he can wait to see the President. Her gloomy apology for the mistake in schedules and a quick goodbye informs Jensen that Jared is not about to wait around.

Jensen grits his teeth, unbuttons his suit jacket, and takes a seat behind his desk. “What’s next?”







Jared ignores his phone for a few days, refuses to answer the one at the shop. The gladiolas Danneel brought him to arrange are anything but glad as he glares at them. At least, he likes to imagine the flowers feel his pain at this time.

But then he grumbles, not wanting to give Danneel the satisfaction of being right about that three-month rule. Apparently this was the time when Jared decided he was up for a cross-country trip and Jensen wanted off at the next stop.

He should’ve known better, really. Dating the President, making some kind of relationship with one of the most powerful men in the world, was dreaming big. And now Jared’s clouds are popped and he’s floating back down to reality.

“Oh God,” Danneel sighs as she steps up to him. “Even the flowers look depressed. You’re contagious.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Gee. Thanks.”

She hip-checks him out of the way, which is just as pathetic as Jared is feeling because he is literally twice her size. She shouldn’t be able to move him an inch, let alone a few feet away. “I’ll finish this. Why don’t you go up front or something?”

Now he frowns even deeper, and quite pitifully. “Aunt Sam said my sadness was driving customers away.”

Danneel laughs and teasingly sulks with him before trying to cheer him up with a bear hug. Again, she’s half his size and it can’t do much good. “It’ll be okay.” She rocks them from side to side then shakes him a bit. “It was fun while it lasted, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a small smile. “I know I’m overreacting, but it would’ve been nice to find out in a more private way rather than him yelling about it in front of everyone.”

“At least he didn’t come into the shop with his fiancée,” she jokes, reminding them both of Matt the hot trainer with a wandering eye.

Jared nods then sees Danneel’s doing a much better job than him sprucing up the gladiolas, so he leaves her to it and joins Aunt Sam in the front of the store.

“Hey, sweetpea,” she says with a quick pinch to his side.

He smiles at the childhood nickname, albeit woodenly, and rings up the next customer. Aunt Sam takes care of a very, very pregnant woman looking to brighten a soon-to-be-filled nursery, and Jared glances around the store when the bell over the door rings out.

Aunt Sam brings the expecting mother to the counter for Jared to ring up, and he does with happy smiles and congratulations then, once she’s gone, his whole demeanor drops with a new customer standing in front of him. It’s Jensen. Jensen is the next customer. Jensen is standing right in front of him, looking much the same as the day they first met … running suit, ball cap, sweat streaking down his deliciously taut neck.

He removes his hat, leaving a mess of bed-head in its wake, and bites the corner of his lower lip. He remains silent, and Jared spots Aldis and Tom taking up opposite corners of the place, just like they did before.

Jensen clears his throat and puts on a smile, his fake one, the one for the cameras and the general public. “I was wondering,” he starts softly then clears his throat, “if you could help me pick out some flowers. For a friend. A guy. I need flowers for this guy I know who I care about very much.”

Jared gulps, not believing this scene for even a second. He pinches the top of his hand, but he’s still standing in the shop, staring at Jensen.

Jensen’s smile turns softer and seems more honest. “But not roses. I’ve heard they’re really overused.”

He remembers telling Jensen that when trying to find something for Nola, for the President’s precocious daughter, for one of the smartest 12-year-olds Jared has ever met and wanted to get to know even better. Just like he really wanted to get to know Jensen better.

Jensen bites his lower lip again. “Maybe you could recommend something to get my message across?”

Jared clears his throat, finally ready to talk. “And what message is that?”

Meeting Jared’s eyes, Jensen’s voice is low yet full of meaning when he says, “That I care about him very much. And that I’m sorry that he overheard a bad conversation. And that I really want to see him again, even if he refuses to answer my calls.”

Jared stares back at Jensen, searching for a flaw in that soft, determined plea. “But you said no dating.”

“I said no fake dating,” Jensen clarifies. “I told my staff I didn’t want to fake date you, and parade you all over town just to detract from the Russia discussion. I didn’t want to satisfy Sarah Mason and Cole Hart, and his talentless writers, who all think they can peg me with some kind of controversy for actually trying to make my own life.”

The whole shop is silent, and Jared and Jensen continue look at one another until Jensen clarifies: “I don’t want to fake date you because I want to really date you.”

Jared’s chest tightens, worse than when he’d walked in on that conversation in the Oval Office and felt his good mood crushed and blown away with the wind. Because he now feels like he’s caught in a vise grip of going with what he has wanted the whole time he’s been around Jensen versus protecting himself from the whirlwind of attention if he actually says yes.

“We already were,” Jensen points out. “Already dating, together, whatever you want to call it, and that’s it for me.”

Jared looks to Aldis and Tom, who are both quick to dodge his gaze. He chuckles to himself and takes a deep breath.

“Well … ” Jared takes a deep breath and thinks. “Purple hyacinths are meant to express sorrow and regret.”

Slowly the line of worry across Jensen’s brow disappears and his lips turn up into a beautiful smile, and Jared finds himself smiling as well. “I’ll take ten dozen,” Jensen says brightly.

“And, you know … dinner wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll fly in any chef you want,” Jensen insists. “Wolfgang Puck, Gordon Ramsey, even Guy Fieri.”

“No, not the last one,” Jared says quickly.

Jensen quickly nods. “He’s already off the security list.”

Jared hears a light sigh to his right, and he finds Danneel and Aunt Sam leaning against the counter and holding hands, with wet eyes apiece. Danneel winks at him and he does so back before looking to Aldis in the far left corner. “And Hodge’s number.” When the bodyguards and Jensen all lose their happy smiles, Jared adds, “For Danneel. She deserves a good guy, too.”

Aldis’s eyes widen then and he smirks at Danneel. But Jared doesn’t notice because in one beautiful moment, Jensen’s smile turns truly transcendent with his cheeks going pink and crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. “You said too. A good guy, too.”

“Well, yeah,” Jared says airily, “I mean, you’re a guy, and you’re pretty good, and so—”

He’s cut off when Jensen tugs the middle of Jared’s apron and pulls him across the counter for a long-overdue reconciliation and a rather inappropriate kiss in front of Jared’s aunt, his friend, and the Secret Service. Jared feels the strength in Jensen’s apology and decides he’ll make out with his boyfriend all day long, any damn place he likes.

Even if his boyfriend is the President of the United States of America.

Especially if he is.