Or maybe Jensen wasn’t in as deep as Daniel was. Because Daniel sure as shit would care if Jensen was fucking other people. Which, fuck, he might be. They hadn’t ever defined what they were to each other. He’d been naively operating under the assumption that Jensen was falling for him. And if he wasn’t, well, Daniel wasn’t sure he could handle the rejection.
“What the fuck is this, Jensen?” he asked, not sure if he was angry or heartbroken or losing his mind, squished between hisbeat-up bed frame and secondhand nightstand and all the hopes he’d once had for his future. “You aren’t mad about my job? Does that mean you aren’t mad about me? Because I sure as shit haven’t been spending the last three weeks being fuckingcasualwith you.”
“Come spend the week with me.”
Daniel choked on his own spit. “What?”
“I’ll book your flights. Just tell me when you can leave and when you have to be back. But please come spend the week with me.”
“I don’t know,” he said, laying his heavy head on his blanket-covered knee. He was so tired. The roller coaster of emotions he’d experienced that day had taken everything out of him. Daniel couldn’t remember how he’d been able to detach himself from his work before now.
It seemed impossible that he’d flirted around and touched strangers for years without it affecting him. Of course, that thought only dumped more anger into the piss pot of sour emotions tunneling through him.
Why now? Why was he no longer impervious to all the negative mental side effects that made others quit after just a few months? He was stronger than this. He had to be stronger than this because he had no other options. If he couldn’t continue with sex work, he might as well sign into a homeless shelter now.
“Daniel,” Jensen whispered, the soft plea thundering through the syllables. “Come see me. I’m not good with words, so let me show you what the last few weeks have been for me.”
And just like that, all the worry and anger slipped through Daniel’s fingers, leaving him feeling hollow and aching for a simple hug. He was all over the place, and part of him knew he should refuse Jensen’s request. At least until he could get himself under control and figure his life out.
It wasn’t fair to dump all his burdens on the sweet man who had immeasurably brightened his days. Daniel should find a new job, figure out all his bullshit, pay off his debts, and then when he might actually be worthy of Jensen’s affections, he should resume this relationship. Right now, he had nothing to offer Jensen except for his body, which was barely worth his per-hour charge.
“I need you, Daniel. I need you in my life, and that’s why I’m okay with your job,” Jensen carried on, mistaking his silence for refusal. “If I get to hear you talk about the weather and get pictures of your iced coffee and watch while you brush your teeth from a few thousand miles away, then nothing else matters. I can handle anything as long as I get to hear your voice every day. If you told me you wanted to be a hit man, I would make you a house with a basement to keep all your victims’ bodies in.”
“You’d build me a house?” Daniel asked wetly.
“Oh, heavens no. I can’t stand sawdust. But I would pay someone to build a house I designed for you. Well, several people because anyone who says they can do everything from foundations to framing to plumbing to electrical all by themselves is a liar and should have their licenses looked at. I would hire a few teams, after a rigorous bidding process during which I’ll be reviewing their past work to make sure it’s up to my standards.”
“Jensen,” Daniel exclaimed with a laugh.
“Of course, I’ll need to get a real estate agent in the city, which I’m loath to do. I can’t tell you how much I hated working with one when I bought my house, but?—”
“Jensen,” Daniel interrupted again, “I’ll come visit you.”
“You will?”
“Why do you sound surprised?” He leaned back against the textured wall, the smallest of smiles on his lips.
That was the thing, though, wasn’t it? Moments ago, the world had felt like it was falling down around him, and now he was smiling, his eyes no longer wet and his body no longer aching. Sure, he was still exhausted and dreaded going back to work; that wasn’t going to go away after one conversation. But things weren’t so bleak. Daniel felt like he could handle all the bullshit he heaped on top of himself. Like the world and all his worries weren’t so bad because Jensen would build him a literal fucking house just to store all his burdens.
“I once had a man break up with me because we lived on the east and west sides of Los Angeles and he thought that was too far,” Jensen admitted. “But this is good. Really good. My mom is going to be so excited to meet you.”
“Your mom?” Daniel asked, his eyes going wide.
“There’s a flight going out at ten tomorrow morning, is that too early? Do you have a middle name? And I’ll need your birthday.”
Daniel answered Jensen’s questions on autopilot, going through the motions of booking a flight for Daniel to fly halfway across the country, and the only thought that cycled through his head wasHoly fuck, he wants me to meet his mother.
The phone call ended sometime later, Daniel still in a daze, and the silence in his bedroom was deafening.
He was going to meet Jensen’s mother. The woman who’d given birth to him and, according to Jensen, still fretted over him like he was a clumsy child. How much did she know about Daniel? Had Jensen told his parents about Daniel’s job?
A strangled sound left his lips as he jumped up from his floor and pushed open the doors to his closet. There had to be something in there that was appropriate for meeting parents. God, he had no idea what qualified as an appropriate outfit to meet someone’s parents. He hadn’t advanced to this level with any of his previous partners as he was more into casual hookupsthan committed relationships. And now he was flying across the country to meet the family of a man that thought showing collarbones was slutty.
Daniel threw a couple of shirts onto his unmade bed, then ripped open the dresser drawer that held all his pants. The bulk of his clothes had been purchased for work, since he mostly dressed in sweats and loungewear at home. This meant a good portion of his pants were either skintight or low-rise or otherwise inappropriate to meet his maybe-boyfriend’s parents in.
Finally, he came across a pair of khaki pants that were rolled up and pushed to the back of the drawer. He could make that work. Taking them over to the bed, he laid them out with the minuscule shirt options, just as someone knocked on his door.
“I’m coming in,” Casey said before doing just that.
