And Then Again Tomorrow...

Fandom: RPF

Category/Rated: NC-17 Slash

Year/Length: 2006/~4,775 words

Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Steve Carlson

Disclaimer: Of course it never happened. I'm just pretending.

Author's Notes: This is for Steve Carlson fans, in particular the lovely dingoespain who can now stop tapping her foot.

Beta: My gratitude goes to impala67 and lorelei633 for rising above and beyond the call of duty to make this better than it was.

It had been over a year. He'd almost gotten to the stage where he could think about Jensen without feeling moisture prick behind his eyes and fill his sinuses.

Almost.

He'd kept himself busy, and things were looking good for him on the career front. His guy Chris was looking out for him, and they'd been all over the world together. He'd even landed a part in the movie Chris was making. He wasn't entirely sure that acting was for him, but the experience had still been way cool, and he had enjoyed learning about the process, building on skills learned the year before.

Playing the part of Furnace had taken him out of himself for a short time, although he wondered if anyone had actually gone to see "Keep Your Distance" when it came out. He sure hadn't! Still, he'd found himself having fun a couple of times through the summer, touring the world with Chris, and was starting to think that there might just be life after Jensen.

And now, here he was, back in LA. He was ready to sing his heart out, looking forward to the music in the best possible way, because music made him come alive, pulled all the strings in his psyche. Music was who he was, where he lived.

The club was filling up. Couples sitting close together, tables full of girls dressed in brightly colored, skimpy tops designed to show off their tans, and everyone chattering, drinking, laughing, there for one purpose – to see him.

He should have been elated. He'd worked for this, and it was all coming together in the best way imaginable. He was going to be a star, get that recording contract, make it, and that was fine. He owed it to Chris to help get them both there. He should be walking on air with all the folks sitting here waiting for him to get up on that stage, so why wasn't he? Why was he lurking in the very far corner of the bar, nursing one more beer and wishing he could go home right now?

The answer was sitting down close to the front, sharing a table with the blonde du jour and a couple of folks he didn't know. He was wearing a cap and sporting a goatee, but the heavy lidded, thickly lashed eyes were as brilliant as ever. His handsome face was dusted with freckles, golden from the sunshine. The compact body he remembered so well was lounging right there in front of him, draped at ease in his seat, confident and charming as ever.

Steve felt his own charm and confidence slipping south as the minutes ticked by and the time for him to take the stage approached.

He picked up his beer and tipped it back, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat, and tried to gather his thoughts. He was good at what he did. He was going to give it all to them, make them laugh, make them cry. He was going to make them realize that he, Steve Carlson, was the man.

Only right now, knocking back a Corona as he crouched in the shadows beside the bar, he didn't feel like the man. His insides were quivering, and he felt like shit.

"Steve? How's it going?"

The well remembered voice from right beside him made him jump. Jensen stood at the bar next to him, brows raised in polite inquiry, slight smile on his face as he gestured to the bartender. He hadn't seen Jensen approach, and now he was trapped, every nerve twanging like a poorly tuned guitar, and the smile on his own face feeling as if he'd scraped it out of the bottom of the sack.

"Jensen. Long time no see." He held out his hand, taking Jensen's warm in his and shaking it, because there was no way that he could hug the man standing in front of him and not break down. "How's the frozen north treating you?"

"Oh, not so bad. The show's going well, and I got a movie I was absolutely aching to do. You should see my hair! Maybe after the show I'll let you peek under my hat; it'll give you a chuckle." Jensen was smiling, his eyes alight with good humor, and for a second it just felt good to talk to him, almost as if they'd never said goodbye. "So what've you been up to?"

"Oh, got me some good new songs laid down," he said, smiling, looking laid back now as he adjusted to the inevitability of the conversation and slipped into his stage persona, bland smile and gentle delivery masking inner turmoil. "Went down to South America with my boy Chris and made a movie." He gave a satisfied nod at that. It ought to hurt Jensen a little, because, hell, it's Chris whose name Steve had just thrown at him, and he knew how Jensen used to feel about Chris. Score one for me, he thought, but a moment later he shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts were bad karma, and he didn't want to start feeling ugly again, the way he had back when he and Jensen had been together. "Good that you're here. Think you'd like to come up and do ‘Alabama' with me later?"

"Uh… you know how I feel about getting on stage, dude." Jensen looked a little stunned at the request.

"And you know how I feel about that song. Would be an act of kindness, man." Steve smiled – a real smile this time, the pangs he felt for Jensen temporarily eased by the fact that his object of desire was here with him.

"Well, okay, then. You got it. Just let me have a couple beers first, an' I'll get up and jam with ya." Jensen's smile was surprisingly bashful, and there was a sweetness to it that felt like a sucker punch to Steve's gut. He played for time, tilting his beer against his lips while his heart slowly resumed its regular rhythm. Finally, he nodded.

"Got it. Two beers and then you perform for me, superstar. Thanks, man, I'll catch you later, k?" Walking back to where the others awaited him, he sat down and began the business of tuning his guitar.

Tim came over to him and asked him something, but he was far too high to process the question. Jensen was going to get up on stage with him. He felt incredibly pumped.

His belly was flip-flopping as if they were going to have sex rather than merely singing together, and he lifted his hand. "Later, dude, unless it can't wait."

Tim made a sarcastic comment about how Steve was getting too Hollywood for words, but he ruffled Steve's dirty blond locks and retreated, leaving Steve to get it together, if he could.

When the MC finally got up on stage to introduce his band, he'd managed to quell his butterflies, tame the erection that had been threatening to interfere with his calm thinking, and felt as good as it was possible to feel. This was his turf, his night, and he had it made.

He started with ‘Dynamite', then followed up with ‘Radio In My Head' and ‘Without You'.

He knew audiences, and this one was rockin'! Right where he wanted them. He leant forward to speak into the microphone at last, welcoming his fans and announcing his new song, ‘Now That My Love Is Gone.'

The song went down as well as he'd known it would. He couldn't keep his eyes off that table just in front of the stage, the one where Jensen was sitting. When he'd started to sing the song, Jen had lifted his head, obviously interested to hear the new material, and Steve had almost faltered as he saw understanding suddenly reflected in Jensen's eyes. It was obvious that he knew what that song was all about.

He could see into Steve's heart, and Steve felt suddenly naked.

The song ended to loud applause, and the moment passed. Before long, Steve was telling the audience that he was going to bring someone special up on stage, and everyone fell silent, wondering who it would be. He could see people looking around to see if Chris might be in the room, and he strung his intro out for a little longer, enjoying the tease. When he finally named Jensen, the crowd went nuts.

When Jensen stepped up to share his microphone with him, Steve felt that old familiar shiver of lust.

Jensen closed his eyes to sing – hung his head as if he was ashamed. That was something he'd always done. Watching him, Steve felt the same old urge to protect that he'd always had when watching him sing.

Steve couldn't stop looking at him, all golden skin and freckles and thick, dark lashes curling on his cheeks. He couldn't help remembering the handful of other times he'd managed to get Jensen up on the stage with him, and all the other times he and Jen had jammed, just the two of them. Two guitars, a case of beer and so much sweet, sweet music that there was no way he'd ever be able to forget loving him.

So here they were, and despite the crowded room, the audience was silent, listening to the way their voices blended. Steve could feel his belly warm, and loose and fluttery as they sang together.

It was when he reached the line, "'Cos you're tangled in my thoughts these days, if only I could make you stay…" and Jensen suddenly opened his eyes, and they met Steve's, that everything else faded away, dreamlike.

Steve found himself gazing into Jensen's eyes, found himself showing Jensen all the things he'd never told him. With a sinking feeling, he realized then and there that it was too late to escape with any kind of dignity intact.

The last notes faded away, and without missing a beat, Steve segued into 'Wasted Jamie' – anything to keep Jensen there at his side, gazing into his eyes like that. He felt strangely light - as though a passing breeze might float him away.

His eyes yearned, met Jensen's. Jensen looked faintly shocked at first, and then somehow pleased. That sent Steve's stomach melting out of control. He felt infinitely grateful for the guitar that he could keep placed just so in front of his groin, because he was hard as iron, and Jensen's knowing eyes were doing him in.

They finished with 'Hummingbird Billy', and Jensen ruffled his hair before returning to the table where his blonde was waiting. Steve found that his mouth was too dry to even speak and gestured for a beer, grinning as one was handed up to him. The concert was almost done, and the crowd was giving him gratifying amounts of applause. He ended his set with 'Pinata Novia' to calm them down and send them home, hopefully tingling, and then he was done.

Jensen was fussing over something, signing an autograph here and there, and showing no signs of leaving yet. Steve took his courage in both hands and laid his guitar back in its case, then straightened up and sauntered over to where Jen was standing. "Problems?" he asked. "Anything I can do?"

"Wouldn't call it a problem, precisely, thanks, Steve. Just got to get a friend home. She's been left behind by her date." Jensen was looking worried, and Steve frowned, wondering why Jensen couldn't just give the woman a ride, if she was a friend. "I didn't come by car." It was as if he'd heard Steve's thought and answered it. "I don't drive when I'm drinking; you know that."

Steve nodded. He did in fact know that. He was about to turn and go, feeling slightly stupid, when he suddenly decided that he was going to try one last time. "I had fun tonight. You were awesome, Jen; you always were."

"Ya think?" There was a faint flush to Jensen's cheeks, barely visible in the club's low lighting. "I'm glad it wasn't a total mess. I like the new song."

I wrote it for you, Steve wanted to say. It's always been you. Aloud, he said, "Wanna come over tomorrow and jam a little, for old time's sake?" And there it was, the gauntlet thrown; the cat out of the bag, or whatever other crazy aphorisms he might think of. Steve held his breath, waiting for the refusal he knew would come. Jensen would be going home with Blondie there, and he'd be holing up with her, no doubt pounding the mattress ‘til it was time to go back up north to work.

"Where are you these days?" The words weren't what he'd been expecting to hear, and they didn't sink in right away.

When he did finally manage to assimilate what had been said, his eyes flew to Jensen again, and the bastard was smirking, realizing somehow that he'd made Steve feel foolish.

"Same place. Don't think I'll ever move, the acoustics are too good."

Steve was finding breathing difficult. He felt as if he were dreaming and surreptitiously pinched himself just in case he actually was.

"Well, okay, I've fixed it up a bit since you were last there, but it's the same old place really."

"Cool. Tomorrow afternoon?" Jensen beamed and Steve felt as if he'd died and gone to heaven. "I'll be there with my guitar and a raging thirst."

As Steve watched him go, somehow he didn't mind so much that Jensen had his arm slung loosely around the blonde's shoulders. Tomorrow, Jensen would be knocking on his door. He watched them until they were out of sight and stood gazing after them, lost in thoughts of his own until at last he turned to help pack away the equipment.

When his doorbell rang at around two the following afternoon, Steve was writing. He cursed, frustrated by the interruption, then he recalled who he'd invited over and felt a flood of warmth pool deep in his belly.

Scrambling to his feet so fast that he sent the chair he'd been sitting on flying, he laid his guitar down and raced for the front door.

Jensen was still wearing his baseball cap, and he was toting his guitar case and a twelve pack. Steve stood for a second, drinking in everything about him, the freckles, the ratty "Cry Wolf" T-shirt and faded jeans, and Jensen himself. Then he realized how rude he was being and stood aside to let him in.

"Hey," Jensen murmured, his voice soft and smile slightly uncertain.

"Hey yourself," said Steve, when he was finally able to be coherent. "I got an idea for a song," he said, ushering Jensen into his den. He glanced at the beer. "Want me to put those on ice for ya?"

Jensen nodded, handing over the beer and looking around, taking in the changes that Steve had made since he was last there. "Wow, you got a new piano."

"Yeah. Can't beat the real thing." Steve grinned over his shoulder as he stacked the beer in the fridge in the corner. "Here – you want a cold one?"

He popped the top on two of the bottles and crossed back to hand one to Jensen, then sat down and grabbed his guitar again without waiting for Jensen to find a chair. "Sorry – got to get this committed to memory before it goes again. Won't be a second."

He played softly, pausing every minute or so to jot down a chord progression, and after a moment or two, Jensen opened his guitar case, got out his guitar and began to tune it.

"Wait a minute. Play that bit again." Jensen's voice stirred Steve out of his daze, and he looked up, smiled and did as he'd been asked. "Shouldn't go down at the end of the line like that," murmured Jensen. "Should go like this." He demonstrated, and Steve set his guitar down and applauded.

"Jeez, dude, I've been trying to get that line the way I want it since eight this morning. Now in you come and there it is." He picked up his beer and took a swig, letting it trickle down his throat to cool him.

Jensen laughed. "I know how you work, don't I?"

"Yeah, you do." Steve sounded slightly unhappy as he said it. "You always did." He turned away for a moment, feeling emotion well up to clog his throat. "You wanna hear it all? I'd value your input."

"Sure." Jensen had picked up on Steve's little hitch and was frowning now, apparently puzzled. As Steve started to play and sing his song, he slowly relaxed, listening intently as the blond haired man sang his song of lost love and loneliness. By the third chorus, he was joining in, playing along, and raising his tuneful voice in a poignant harmony that seemed to fit perfectly. Steve started to play it again, giving Jensen the opportunity to take it again from the top, and then held up his hand, leaning forward to click on his recording machine.

"Again?" he said, softly, strumming his intro. He didn't give Jensen a chance to demur, he merely started over and trusted that his companion would join in. Jensen grinned at him, rolling his eyes, but he played along, giving Steve the opportunity to extemporize a little, getting in some clever guitar licks. When they finally finished singing, the two of them were flushed with excitement, and as Steve clicked off his recording, Jensen crowed!

"Way cool!" He'd got his head thrown back, and he was laughing, the high of the moment written in the way he held himself, and the joy on his face. Steve felt his heart lurch, and his mouth go dry. Swallowing thickly, he laid his guitar down and sat, staring.

Slowly, Jensen noticed, his eyes widened and his glee fled, leaving him baffled. "What, dude? Angel of death suddenly mark me, or something?"

Steve shook his head. "I never stopped wanting you, Jen," he murmured. "Still love you."

"What about Chris?" asked Jensen, after a pause during which his expression had turned blank.

"He knows," said Steve. "Poor Chris hears about nothing else."

"I still don't think it's gonna work, dude, because nothing's changed. I'm still heading back up to Vancouver in a week or two, and you – you're still gonna be all over with the band." Jensen set his guitar down, propping it up against the edge of Steve's desk. "You'll end up hating me, because I want to act rather than sing."

"I don't hate you yet, Jen," murmured Steve, spreading his hands. "I've never stopped loving you. You're in everything I do."

Jensen shrugged, folded his arms and sat studying Steve as if seeing him for the first time ever. He made as if to speak, but then didn't, merely settling back to gaze helplessly at Steve.

The atmosphere grew uncomfortable, and Steve thought that Jensen would probably get up and leave. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something – anything - to make him stay, and the irony of that suddenly made him smile.

Reaching for his guitar, he began to sing, softly crooning the familiar words.

"Speak to me, quietly and clearly…" The smile that crossed Jensen's face then was sudden and brilliant, and Steve's answering smile was tender as he watched the actor reach to recover his own guitar and join in.

"It was always you, Jen," murmured Steve, when they were done, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and cup Jensen's cheek, tugging him over until he could kiss those soft, plush lips.

Jensen sighed, opened his lips to Steve, and Steve felt the blood sing in his ears as he slipped his tongue into Jensen's mouth. Gently, very gently at first, their lips met, slowly brushing to lock and hold as they fell into the kiss. Jensen slid his tongue along Steve's, permitting him to explore the recesses of his mouth, and only after an eternity spent delving into the moist depths of it did he put up his hand to Steve's face, stroking his cheek gently as he maintained that tender kiss.

The sound of a guitar protesting brought them back to themselves. They parted for a moment, hastily setting aside the delicate instruments to ensure their safety.

Steve knelt, head lowered as he closed up his guitar case, wondering if he dared kiss Jensen again, afraid to look up in case he saw Jensen getting ready to get out while the going was good.

Suddenly, Jensen's lips were there, against his, and Steve gasped. He opened his mouth to the invasion, and their bodies came together easy and slow. Steve put his arms around Jensen, holding him tight against his straining body.

His hand buried itself in Steve's hair, tangling in unruly, cornsilk locks, so that Steve thought he might be lost and gone, dizzy with the scent of musk, overloaded by silk-soft lips glued to his, wet tongue drawing ripples of sensation inside his mouth.

"Come on."

Stumbling to his feet, Steve tugged on Jensen's hand, pulling him up to follow. Jensen didn't say anything; he merely rose and followed with a faint smile on his face.

Towing Jensen through the door into his bedroom, Steve felt as if he were floating, light-headed and high. Lust pooled in his belly, strange creatures shifting there as though attempting to fly. He turned by the bed, looking at Jensen, drinking in the sight of him, lips and lashes and flushed, freckled skin. Jensen's breath was sweet on his cheek. He looked into shining green eyes, and felt himself shiver again as his hands went up to his face to lay the palms along his cheeks.

Holding him like that, while his lashes fluttered and fell, his lips parted, Steve could hear Jensen's breathing change. He drank in the sight of him, for once exposed in his need, and then slowly, impossibly slowly, savoring every last second of a moment that might never be repeated, he leant forward to bring their lips together and gasped as he felt them touch.

For a second he was tentative, trying to evaluate the effect he was having on Jensen, but then he found himself swept into sensation, his lips pressing down, his tongue sneaking between Jensen's lips to search for the sweetness within. Fingers groped, burying themselves in Jensen's hair as he responded, clinging to Steve like a drowning man.

Jensen's hand slipped under Steve's thin shirt, feeling its way down around his waist. Steve's belly leaped and fluttered as the two of them pressed together. His eyes closed, and he lost himself in the sweet, soft stickiness of the embrace, his spine filled with warm, sweet molasses and his breathing labored as he struggled for air that was suddenly way too thick.

Jensen's golden in the syrupy sunlight that's streaming through the bedroom window. His eyes were closed, his face turned up and his neck arched back as if to greet the sun.

Steve gasped at the way Jensen looked and kissed him again, his tongue running over Jensen's as they sought closeness. Jensen's tongue swirled around Steve's, stirring up an electricity that surged and tingled between mouth and groin. Those soft lips slid over Steve's face, easy and slow like silk on silk. He could feel those creatures inside him again, dancing now as they melted into trickling warmth that filled his cock. He slid Jensen's T-shirt up and off, Jensen raising his arms as obediently as a child, his own fingers unfastening the buttons of Steve's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

As they kissed, Steve's hands found Jensen's nipples, rolling them between his fingertips. His lips traveled down from mouth to neck, pausing to dip into the hollow above Jensen's collarbone, then from neck to chest, nibbling, licking and nipping at Jensen's skin. He could taste the slightly salty tang of arousal as his mouth closed on a nipple, suckling and kissing it while Jensen leant back, eyes closed, moaning slightly. All that Steve wanted was right there in that moment, and all the songs he would ever write rose up as a symphony in his head.

"God, Jensen," he whispered, and there was music in his voice, music in the moan that was the response to his words.

Nipping hard, Steve heard Jensen yelp, then chuckle as he started work on the buckle of Steve's belt, sliding gentle hands down the length of his thighs, smoothing the fabric of his jeans as they fell to lie around his ankles.

"Off," growled Steve, fighting with the faded denim of the jeans that Jensen wore. And then somehow Jensen's jeans were on the floor, kicked across the room as they stood together, naked apart from Jensen's stupid hat.

"Off," Steve grabbed the offending garment and threw it behind him, then began to laugh as Jensen's bright green Mohawk was revealed.

"Told you, it's an interesting part, dude," said Jensen, his smile wide and wicked.

"Shut up, mood wrecker!" Steve was still grinning as he dropped to his knees, sliding down Jensen's body, amazed at the beauty of him all over again. His cock was standing straight and tall, shining with the droplets of liquid that their embrace had smeared across it. Steve touched the head of it with his tongue, nodding with satisfaction when Jensen gave a breathy little cry. He licked, tasting moisture and adding his own, then took hold of it, squeezed it briefly and fed it into his mouth, sucking and feeling it pulse under his tongue.

Steve sucked, fingers stroking around Jensen's balls, squeezing Jensen's ass cheeks, pulling him deeper into his greedy mouth. Jensen's legs had parted as much as they could, and he had both fists curled into Steve's hair as he sobbed for breath. He tried to pull Steve's head away from his cock, but Steve clung, swallowed, then swallowed again as the drool ran from the corner of his mouth. Jensen cried out and came, back arched, hand clutching Steve's hair as his hips bucked wildly.

As Jensen's cock softened, Steve continued to tease at it with his tongue, licking it clean, and finally, reluctantly, allow it to fall from his mouth. Jensen fell to his knees to recapture Steve's mouth, bending down to kiss him hard, tongue thrusting and swirling, then moving to kiss Steve's eyelids, licking along the line of his jaw and lowering his head still further to suckle Steve's neck.

"C'mon." Steve was the first to move, half rising to help Jensen lie back on the bed. He followed Jensen down onto it, finding his mouth again, claiming it, his own body urgent now as he stretched out over Jensen's, long and smooth and infinitely desirable.

"C'mon," he said again and gasped as Jensen reached for his cock and stroked it, smirking as he got the reaction he was looking for.

"I got you," whispered Jensen, rolling him over onto his back.

It had been a long time, and Steve had forgotten how Jensen looked when he was on top. He'd forgotten how Jensen's lips curled, how his eyes gleamed, and above all, he'd forgotten how his voice sounded, low and rough and uttering soft obscenities as though he wanted to get Steve off from that alone.

Jensen stroked Steve's cock in all the right places. When he bent to suck at it, the sight of him, his spine curving around, his skin dusted with freckles, body finely muscled, gave Steve a shock of pleasure that cut like the edge of a knife.

Jensen was perfect, even with the silly green hair. Thick lashes fanned his cheeks, and his beautiful mouth stretched around Steve's dick, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. It didn't take long. All it took was for Jensen to aim that green-eyed stare at him and swirl his tongue around the ridged head of his cock, and Steve was gone, body jittering as the wildfire ignited, and he gave it up to Jensen, burning in the sweet, hot, tingling pleasure that coursed through him, filling his bones with liquid honey.

The aftermath seemed to last forever; Jensen licking him clean and then sliding up to cover him and kiss him, messy and moist.

"Still love you," he whispered, and knew he was heard as Jensen laid his head down on Steve's shoulder and cuddled up close. "Nobody else has this."

"Only us," whispered Jensen. "You an' me; I promise."

---

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