Fic: Fire at Midnight
Title: Fire at Midnight
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural RPF
Rating: PG13
Length: 5.4k
Warnings: None
Community: SPN J2 Xmas Exchange 2022
Tags: Grief, healing, pagan themes
The solstice is meant to be shared. Jared's gran had been fond of saying that. "The light comes from our hearts as much as the sun, Jay. When it's darkest, that's when we need the most light. We share it with each other to keep the fires burning until the sun returns."
Jared's gran wouldn't have approved of him spending the solstice alone, not in the slightest.
But that was kind of the point, wasn't it? Jared's gran wasn't there, and she wouldn't ever be there again. He'd set the Yule bonfire in her memory, but when it came to arranging the party that should have accompanied it, he just couldn't. The very idea of it seemed interminable. Hours of small talk, countless people telling him how sorry they were, awkward pagan hippie songs about nature and the goddess and the horned man that he wasn't sure he even believed in anymore – he just couldn't face it.
No, this year the vigil would just be him and the darkness, a sole flickering hope for the light to return. It felt appropriate.
Well, mostly him and the darkness. Honey and Bear, his grandmother's dogs – his now – were there to keep him company. When he'd called the circle around the clearing earlier, they'd followed him dutifully from point to point, just as they'd done for her. Now they were curled up on the blanket he'd brought for them, dozing next to his chair and the small cooler of cider. Well into their golden years, the mutts would spend most of the night like they did every night – napping, occasionally waking up to snuffle after some scent or sound that caught their attention.
He hadn't originally planned to be alone. His brother Jake and Uncle Tim were supposed to have flown in that morning, but it had all been pointless. Their flight had been delayed, cancelled, rescheduled and then delayed again. And even if they'd managed to catch a late flight like Tim swore up and down they would, none of the car rentals would be open. The best they could do is grab a hotel room near the airport and come over the next day, weather permitting.
Which was fine. He'd be okay.
Jared was used to being alone. When he was twelve, he'd been alone for two months after the terrible accident, the car crash that had taken Jared's mom and dad and unborn sister. Finally, Gran had swooped in like a rebel angel and rescued him from the foster home where the social workers had stashed him, and taken him home to live with her and Uncle Tim in the mountains of Vermont.
In the ten years that followed, she'd been more of a parent to him than either of his biological ones ever had. For one thing, Jared hadn't even known he'd had an uncle until then. Tim had just laughed and said that his dad wasn't fond of the company he kept. Men, Gran had explained later, because Tim was "that way" and Jared's parents, rest their souls, hadn't been the most understanding. Jared soon came to the traitorous conclusion that his dad must have been an asshole, because Uncle Tim was brilliant, and funny, and so were his friends. And besides, Jared thought sometimes, he might be a little "that way" himself.
Five years later, Jared got proof that his dad was an asshole when Uncle Tim got called away in the middle of the night, only to show up two days later with Jake in tow. Jake was a snotty ten-year-old who hated Jared on sight, and the feeling was mutual. He was apparently the result of his dad stepping out on his mom not one night, or one week, but every month, right up to the day when he just stopped coming entirely, When Jake's mom tried to call him, she found the phone had been disconnected. Then she found the obituary and realized that Jared's dad had had a whole other life, with a wife and a child and everything, and washed her hands of the whole thing. And then she'd caught cancer, stage 4, and there was no one she could find who could take Jake in except for his deadbeat dad's family.
It had taken him and Jake the better part of a year to bury the hatchet. Jared had resented Jake because their dad had set up a trust fund for him, which meant that Jake got to go to a fancy private boarding school. Meanwhile Jared went to a public school – which he didn't hate but still, it was the principle of the thing – because his dad had mismanaged his real family's money enough that they'd had to sell off the furniture and car just to pay for the funeral. Jake was angry because even without the furniture and the car, Jared still had all kinds of keepsakes of their father – clothes, pictures, golf clubs and everything, while all Jake had was one framed photo of them at a ballgame. Jared had days, weeks in a row of having time with their dad. Jake had one day a month.
One day Gran had had enough and sat them both down one day and told them it was okay to be upset at their dad, but she wasn't about to put up with a second set of brothers who wouldn't talk to each other. Family was important, and all they had was each other. And things hadn't been exactly okay afterwards, but they got better. Jared started looking forward to Jake coming home at the end of the semesters, and Jake started being happy to see him. And Gran's smile made it all worthwhile. There were more bonfires, and parties, and friends, and even college.
And then she had died.
Jared hadn't been there when she'd passed. His friends had invited him out on an overnight trip, and she'd pushed him to go – "it's a gardening weekend, Jay, just me and the grass. I'll cut a little, smoke a little, maybe have dinner down at the diner. Go have fun. It's fine."
Except when he'd returned, it hadn't been.
It'd been fast, the authorities said. She probably never even woke up when her heart gave out. Small mercies, they said, a kindness to go so peacefully and so quickly.
It didn't feel kind or merciful from where Jared was standing. It just felt… cold.
Jared tossed another log on the fire vengefully, enjoying the way the flames sparked angrily back at him. The ferociously flickering orange-and-red beacon jumped higher in response, forcing back the winter's biting cold even further. He took off his parka and tossed it carelessly nearby, shuffling his chair a little bit closer to the fire. The heat would leave him a little bit sunburnt tomorrow, but right then, he didn't care.
He reached into the cooler and retrieved one of the ciders he'd brought, popping off the lid and raising it in a toast.
"Here's to you, Gran. The greatest woman I've ever known. May your next adventure return the love you gave me threefold. I'll keep you in my heart until we meet again, and look for you when the veil grows thin." He took a sip of cider, enjoying the way the alcohol warmed his system. "One for me" – he took another sip – "one for you" – and then poured the rest of the bottle onto the ground, just like Gran would have done – "and one for the horned man."
Around the clearing, the shadows pressed in, even more oppressive under the dark of the new moon. Somewhere in the woods an owl hooted, and the weird yattering barks of a fox rang out in response. Honey's ears perked up, contemplating the chase, but the cry didn't repeat. A few minutes later, she drifted back off to sleep.
It seemed like a good idea, Jared thought. Maybe he'd just close his eyes for a second, too.
Just for a second.
* * *
*snap*
He woke to the break of a twig.
It shouldn't have been enough to wake him, not with the fire still crackling away, but somehow the sound of it shot through his dreams like a bolt of electricity, sending him scrambling out of his chair. Beside him, Honey and Bear clambered to their feet, staring across the bonfire at the stag that stepped into the clearing.
It was majestic – almost as tall as Jared himself when he stood, with broad antlers that spread out to the sky. Its coat shone a pure, brilliant white like freshly fallen snow, a sharp contrast to its eyes, which gleamed red in the firelight. It must have been drawn in by the warmth, he thought absently.
The stag's gaze met Jared's. It felt deep and wise and somehow sad, as if it had been drawn in by Jared's mourning. For a moment, the world froze–
-and then, moment over, the stag pivoted with a bounding leap and bolted back into the darkness. Bear and Honey immediately gave chase, baying and barking like they were puppies as they pursued it into the woods.
Jared stood there, gormlessly blinking until his brain confirmed that yes, he was awake and yes, that had really just happened – and yes, the dogs were gone.
Shit. The dogs were gone.
"It's not safe," he murmured to himself. It wasn't deer hunting season, but still – there were dangers in the woods. Hunters sometimes left traps behind in the mountain, and there were places where the trail suddenly gave way to rocks and a ravine. They could be hurt- or worse-
It wasn't safe.
And then he was chasing after them, the bonfire a flickering light behind him before he'd even realized that he'd left without his jacket. He could go back… but the dogs were just ahead…
"Bear!" he called out. "C'mon boy, get back here!"
The trees seemed to press in around him as he ran, dodging left – no, right – to follow the sound of the barking.
"Honey!" he tried again. "Leave that deer alone! He's got as much right to be here as you!"
Pine needles crunched underfoot as he ran, their aroma crisp and sharp on the breeze. Somewhere ahead of him a fox barked out a territorial warning as small eyes stared up at him from the bushes before scattering.
No matter what he did, he couldn't close the distance to the dogs. In fact, he was falling behind. Their barking faded away, along with the yip of the fox and all the other nightlife Jared had undoubtedly frightened with his passage. His lungs burned from the cold night air.
A stitch seared through his side, and he pulled up short, panting.
It was pointless. The dogs would find their way back, but if he went any further, the same couldn't be said of him. And all the things he was worried about, like the traps – those could hurt him, too. What had he been thinking?
He looked back the way he thought he'd come, and realized something worse: He couldn't see the bonfire or his camp.
That was okay, though, he wasn't lost in the dark woods under a new moon on the longest night of the year, he just had to retrace his steps and… He shivered, sweat chilling against him as he turned around and to backtrack his path.
Nothing seemed familiar. He wasn't certain – no, it was… he changed direction and walked for a bit, only to second guess himself a minute later and stop before he could get himself any more lost.
Before things could get any worse.
As if on cue, a large snowflake drifted lazily down in front of him, followed by another, and another.
Gran would have had some choice words for the predicament he was in right now. Take your time, she'd always said. Listen and look before you act. Don't go running off half-cocked like a hen on market day. And what had he done? Cluck, cluck, cluck.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, slowly holding and then releasing it. Then he opened them and turned in a circle, looking for any sign of his clearing.
There!-
He could see his bonfire. He hadn't gone as far as he'd thought.
The light flickered again in the distance, hidden behind three pines. He hoped it wasn't going out.
He tugged his shirt closer around him and headed in that direction. It was funny how much thicker the trees seemed from this side of the clearing. He could barely see the fire, even as its light grew brighter and closer. Right before he passed through the trees, the wind shifted sharply, carrying with it a cloud of smoke so thick he had to feel his way forward. It was weird, now that he thought about it, that he hadn't smelled the smoke before this, he-
And then the smoke was gone, and the first thing he felt was relief – there were Honey and Bear, sitting next to the fire, tails wagging, like they hadn't just led him on a wild goose chase.
The second thing he felt was confusion, because this wasn't his bonfire.
His bonfire was weird, and a little lopsided, because he'd built it out of the wood gran had gotten to rebuild the porch and then forgotten to tarp before a rainstorm, and by the time it had dried out again there'd been a strange fungus on it she didn't like the look of.
This bonfire… this bonfire was like the platonic ideal of a what a bonfire should be. It was made out of logs – actual logs, birch his mind supplied – some with moss still growing on the bark. It was perfectly shaped, low enough that you could jump the fire if you wanted to but high enough that you'd want to take a decent run at it first. It was hot, he thought gratefully, huddling closer to its warmth, but not like a real fire, more like standing in a perfectly lit and heated clearing that never got too hot or too cold.
A perfectly lit, heated and inhabited clearing.
There were birds here, he realized – crows, blinking sleepily, and owls, and cardinals. A small family of foxes rested under one of the pine trees, maybe even the ones he had startled earlier on his frantic run, and across from them, a huddle of rabbits, placidly chewing on fern fronds. On the other side of the rabbits, he could see a small pack of wolves, tongues lolling out like they were nothing more dangerous than huskies. And facing him, from the other side of the fire, was the stag.
Only it wasn't the stag anymore. It was a man, tall and muscular and… objectively smoking hot, with green eyes and brown hair streaked with hints of blonde and green. Ivy wrapped around his broad shoulders and chest, trailing down his sides and across his abdomen to become a makeshift kilt around the man's thighs, which in turn became bow legs with… with hooves, Jared thought absently, hooves and furry calves and- And antlers, his brain supplied helpfully. Eyes up top, now, mustn't forget the antlers. They were large, impossibly larger than the stag's had been, taller than they were broad, and coated with ivy and moss and holly berries.
He should- he should say something, Jared thought, and then just stood there gawking, because really, what do you say when you meet a honest-to-god god? Hiya, Herne, howzit hanging? A little to the left I see.
"Hi," he finally managed. "I'm Jared."
The man smiled then, and it was the most beautiful smile in the world.
"I'm Jared," he said again, "And you're… Herne? Cernunnos?"
The man nodded. "Well met," he said in a baritone rich and thick like honey. "Come, share my fire."
"Thanks," Jared said dumbly, stepping closer. "I, uh, got turned around a bit, I think."
The man cocked his head, sending a flurry of petals adrift from his antlers. Somehow, despite the smoke, Jared could smell their gentle perfume in the air, blended with the rich loam of turned earth and melting ice. "It's a cold night to wander so far from your light, Jared."
Jared huffed out a half-laugh, nodding at the dogs. "Well, these two decided to take off on a chase, and I- I just followed after." He lifted his hands to the fire, letting the last of the icy cold melt away from his joints.
"You have a kind heart." The man smiled, walking forward. "She would not want to see you alone tonight, you know."
Jared shrugged. "She'd understand." Gods, he sounded like a petulant child.
"Yes, she would," the horned man agreed, walking around the fire until he stood face to face with Jared. He smelled like newly mowed grass and wind and honeysuckle. "But she'd rather see you surrounded by people who love you."
"It's just – I hate it," Jared said, almost relieved to say the words out loud. "If I had to hear one more person tell me it was good she died so quickly, I'd-" he sighed, hugging his arm to himself. "She's always been here for me and now she's just – gone. I wish she'd taken ages and ages to die, I wish it had been something slow that would take years, and I hate how selfish it makes me, I should be glad she died peacefully and happy but I- I just want her here. With me. And she's gone."
And it hurt, he thought, to turn around to say something and remember she wasn't there. To pour two glasses of water for dinner and realize he only needed one. To see her boots by the door and not be able to give them away yet, even though she'd never wear them again.
"Grief is a part of the natural order, too." The horned man crossed his arms solemnly, and a breath of falling leaves and wood fires drifted past. "But remember – nothing under the heavens is ever really, truly gone. It may change state, become part of the earth, or the water, or even another living creature, but it is still here, waiting until you change, too." He touched his palm to Jared's temple. "She is still here." His palmed moved down to Jared's chest, over his heart. "She is here, too. And she will always be there. You are never really alone."
Jared swayed suddenly, his exhaustion suddenly catching up with him. Instantly Honey was at his side to steady him, licking his hand in a guilty apology for running off. He wanted to sit down, he thought, so he did.
"On the days when everything seems darkest," the horned man continued, "that's when you need the light the most. You just need to have faith that it will return. It always does."
Jared yawned and curled an arm around Honey. Behind him, Bear curled anxiously against him. He wanted to talk more – he had so many questions – but he was also so, so tired-
"Will you do that for me?"
"Do what?" Jared asked sleepily.
The man reached up to his antlers and plucked a sprig of green from it. Tiny white buds poked out between the leaves. Mistletoe. He handed it to Jared, who took it with clumsy fingers.
"Keep your faith in the light. Let your fires burn bright."
Jared tucked the flowers into his shirt pocket. "Reckon I always have."
"That's good." The man – god – stood up again, leaving the crisp smell of snow and bark and moonlight in his wake. He paused for a second, then smiled. "Your gran asked me to pass on a message from her."
Jared yawned again. He was so sleepy, and the fire was low now, the man's face and antlers the only source of light. "Y-yeah?" He closed his eyes, just for a second he thought-
Gentle lips brushed a kiss against Jared's forehead. "She says hearts are like the sun. They may go dark for a while, but the light will return if you let it. You've just got to take a leap of faith and believe that it will."
"Oh," Jared said, "that's nice."
The man chuckled. "And she also said you're an idiot, and you need to wake-"
* * *
"JARED!"
Someone was calling his name.
"Wha-?" Jared said muzzily, looking around. He was… he was under a tree, why was- where was-
"Hey, fucker, where'd the fuck you wander off to?!"
Chad. That was Chad. Wait-
"That's right, Bear, go find your idiot owner. We'll get everything set up here."
Genevieve.
Where was the bonfire- what had-
The bonfire. The man. Antlers. Except there was no clearing here, no wolves – just Jared, who had apparently gotten himself lost and passed out from the cold so he could nearly die of hypothermia under a goddamn tree.
"I'm over here!" he yelled. A second later, Bear came barreling up to him, Honey just a second behind.
"THERE you are, fucker." Steve and Danni showed up a moment later, walking behind the dogs at a more sedate pace and holding hands. "You had us worried."
Danni took his hand, pulling him all the way to his feet as she yelled back a triumphant, "FOUND HIM!"
He could hear the sound of cheers in the distance.
"You good?" Steve asked quietly as they made their way back to the clearing.
Jared thought about it for a second, before realizing, "Yeah. I wasn't but I- I am now."
It was a madhouse back by the fire. There were chairs and people everywhere, laughing and smiling. Tom and Mike were dragging a huge green cooler over to dwarf Jared's tiny cooler, and Aldis was staking tiki torches into the ground at the edges of the clearing, with Lisa trailing along behind him to light them once they were secure. Chad and Chris were having some kind of serious argument over the boombox, probably the same one they had every year that never mattered because – yes, that was Genevieve swooping in and stealing the tape player and slipping in the tape that Jared's gran always preferred, and he'd never been so grateful to hear Jethro Tull singing about songs from the wood in his life. Kim and Briana were allegedly getting out marshmallows to cook over the fire for s'mores, but there was a lot more kissing than cooking going on.
He staggered over to the fire, the journey taking twice as long because everyone apparently had to hug him when they saw him – and then lecture him.
"Jesus, your hands are like ice." Chad, always the diplomat. "Where the fuck were you, anyway? We gonna need to put a leash on you to keep you from wandering out into the ice?" His smile was bright, but his eyes were sharp.
"Hopefully not," Jared smiled, grateful that he had friends who cared what happened to him. "I stepped away from the fire for a moment and just got turned around." It was probably better to skip the whole nearly-freezing-to-death-and-hallucinati
"Good," Chad said decisively. "You know your gran would kick your ass otherwise."
Jared laughed. "Yeah, she would." He looked around. "Where's Sophia?"
Chad's face fell. "Yeah, about that… she kinda dumped me. But I deserved it. And I just met this new chick, Sarah-"
And that was Chad, all over.
And even if Jake and Uncle Tim couldn't make it – this was good.
Stop being an idiot.
As always, gran was right.
By midnight the clearing was overflowing with of the scent of mulled cider and burnt marshmallows. Jethro Tull had given way to a singalong full of rock, country, and even Christmas songs. Jared was ready when the infamous Fairytale of New York verse came around, stomping on Chad's foot at the right moment so it went "-you scumbag you maggot you cheap lousy-" *stomp* ow! while Gen and Danni drowned him out with "braggart!"
He grinned unrepentantly when Chad scowled at him – "Happy Christmas you ass" – and then smiled back at him and joined in – "I pray god it's our last!"
"The boys of the NYPD Choir still singing Galway Bay, and the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day." A deep baritone that Jared had never heard before but thought that maybe he had heard just a few hours ago rolled out over the chorus.
Jared's head whipped around to find the newcomer, his heart leaping as he saw – a complete stranger. Tall and well-built, with a warm smile, his brown hair lit with a flickering light from the tiki torch behind him. For just a second, he thought he saw antlers. But that was just a trick of light, it had to be-
A second later, a more familiar face stepped out into the clearing with a cheeky grin. "Don't look at me, asshole, you know I don't sing."
"JAKE!" Jared was up out of his seat like a shot, arms wrapped around his brother and spinning him around in a bear hug before he could squirm out of his grasp.
"Sorry for the delay, Jared." Uncle Tim was last into the clearing, his grey hair dusted with white speckles from the snow, looking ridiculously dignified despite leaning heavily on the cane he'd had to use since a minor stroke two years back. "We thought we'd be shut at the airport, but we found a good samaritan!"
"Hi, I'm Jensen."
Jared shook his hand. The man had a good grip, and very green eyes, the kind you could get lost in. Almost like-
"Not that good a samaritan," Jensen said. "I was getting off shift when I saw these two, and they promised me drinks and a bonfire if I could get them up the mountain. That sounded a hell of a lot better than going back to my lonely hotel room and drinking a beer while I looked at rental listings."
"So," Jared said, "you just moved here."
"Yep," Jensen smiled.
"And we've never met before."
Jensen raised an eyebrow as he popped the top off the cider he'd just been handed. "I don't think so, no."
"Are you sure?" Jared asked. "Because you look really familiar to me."
"That's funny," Jensen took a swig of the cider, "because you look like someone I'd like to get familiar with."
Jared blushed bright red. But he didn't disagree.
* * *
As the hours passed, the party died down to a fond murmur. Jake helped Uncle Tim into bed – "rheumatism's a bitch, lads, I don't recommend it" – and not long after, Danni and Steve headed inside. Then it was all the couples in turn – Tom and Mike, Kim and Briana, Lisa and Aldis, Gen and Sandy. Chris was passed out in his own chair by the fire, a thick patchwork quilt on top of him spilling down to cover Chad as well, who'd fallen asleep leaning against his shoulder only a half hour after he'd drunkenly protested that he would stick with Jared "until the sun came up and beyond!"
And then it was only him and Jensen awake, sitting and talking as the night slowly turned into morning. Somewhere along the way, Jensen had wound up sitting on the log by the fire, gently plucking out notes on Chris's guitar while Jared lounged in his chair nearby. They talked about one thing after another – his gran, and Tim, and Jake, and Jared's friends and Jensen's new job and how the last three places he'd looked at to rent had turned out to be less than habitable – and then suddenly the sky over the trees was lightening into the dawn.
"I need to thank you," Jared said abruptly. "I thought this was going to be my loneliest solstice ever, even with my friends around, and then you just came waltzing in and brought my family back to me. It wasn't until you walked in here with them in tow that I realized how much I needed them here."
Jensen paused. "Until I ran into your uncle, it was fixing to be the same for me. I really wasn't joking about not knowing anyone here yet, and now-" he gestured around him.
Jared laughed. "And now a whole mess of reprobates and troublemakers have attached themselves to you and you'll never be able to escape them. They'll hunt you down even if you get lost and almost freeze to death in the woods!"
"That's… oddly specific," Jensen said. "But if I'd had to endure another night of late-night talk shows and heating up hot pockets in my microwave, that might have sounded pretty tempting."
They watched the shadows recede in companionable silence.
"You know," Jared said finally, "this might be the dumbest thing I've ever done, but – if you're looking for someplace to live, gran and I – I've got a spare room, you see, gran always kept one hand in case someone was in trouble, and I might be nuts, but I think she'd approve if I kept that tradition going."
"I don't know," Jensen said with a smirk. "You might be nuts for offering a place to someone you just met, but then again, I might be nuts for turning you down-"
Jared's heart fell.
Jensen stropped strumming, "Don't get me wrong, this place is awesome." He leaned forward. "But you see, what I'd really like is to ask you on a date, and if I have to choose between the room or the date, well, I reckon the hotel's not so bad."
It was Jared's turn to smile then. "Who knows? If the date goes well, you might not have to choose." He poked at the remnants of the bonfire, watching the embers fly. "I have it on good authority that some risks are worth taking."
"Oh yeah?" Jensen leaned forward, and for a moment Jared thought he was about to kiss him, and then-
"WHO WANTS COFFEE?!?!" Gen yelled from the house.
"GODDAMN IT GENEVIEVE IT'S TOO EARLY FOR THAT CRAP" Kim bellowed back.
They both pulled back like guilty kids caught in their room with the door shut.
"Reprobates and troublemakers," Jared shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Hey, look," Jensen pointed at the horizon. "The sun came back."
"Yay, the Hogfather made it," Chris muttered blearily. Then he sat up straight. "Wait, did someone say coffee?!"
Next to him, Chad waved vaguely in the direction of the shouting. "Gen- house- murrrglebleh."
"Is he still asleep?" Jensen asked, a little in awe.
Chris chuckled. "It's one of his talents." He carefully extricated himself from Chad's arm and draped the quilt fully over the sleeping blonde man. "Coffees all around, yeah?"
"Sounds good," Jared agreed, watching him stagger back towards the house. Then he hopped out of his chair and sat down right next to Jensen. "Hey, don't stop playing. Night's not over yet. You gotta play back the sun with your music."
"Oh, is that how it works?" Jensen smiled. He ran his fingers idly across the strings. "Let's see, you like Jethro Tull, right?"
"Yeah." Jared wove his arm loosely through Jensen's, careful to leave him room to play. "They were one of gran's favorites."
"Okay, I can work with that." He strummed a set of chords and began to sing.
"I believe in fires at midnight when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle, a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken mist outside the window, frogs and newts slip in the dark.
Too much hurry ruins a body. I'll sit easy, fan the spark."
Jared listened to Jensen's rich baritone and thought about the house, imagining his friends slowly coming to life inside. He thought about the porch swing gran had loved and how Jensen would look sitting on it with a guitar of his own. How it would feel to sit on it with him, the way gran had done with her husband for many years.
"Kindled by the dying embers of another working day
Go upstairs, take off your work clothes, fold your things nearly away
Me I'll sit and write this love song, as I all too seldom do
Build a little fire this midnight, it's good to be right here with you"
"You changed the words," Jared said.
"You didn’t seem like the make-up wearing type," Jensen smiled back.
"You changed the end, too," Jared said, snuggling a little closer.
"It felt a bit presumptuous, singing about being back home with you," he said, "seeing as how we just met and all."
"Who knows?" Jared took a breath and a leap of faith. "Maybe next year it won't."
Inside his shirt pocket, a forgotten gift of mistletoe agreed.
~fin~For the curious, Jensen's song is Jethro Tull's Fire at Midnight.