Work Text:
"Rough night?"
Jared grunts something inarticulate and hands Sandy her usual vanilla cappuccino. "I'll take that as a yes. What happened? You look like you're about to collapse."
"Never, ever accept shots from Chad," croaks Jared. "I don't even know whose apartment we were in. Chad woke me up wearing a rainbow clown wig and told me he couldn't find his car keys. And then I couldn't find my coat and we had to walk all the way back here to get Chad's extra key."
"Oh, poor baby," she retorts. "That'll teach you not to go drinking with Chad." She leans back against the counter and takes a sip of her drink. "And what's with the marshmallow man look?"
"We walked for an hour. I'm freezing!"
She laughs. "It's, like, 50 degrees outside."
"I'm from Texas!" Jared protests. His voice cracks on the last word, making him sound like a little kid. "This is arctic."
"You're gonna have fun in January," says Sandy, smirking and crossing her arms. "Blizzards, ice storms, below zero wind chill..."
"Ugh, don't remind me." Jared leans on the bakery case. He's smudging the hell out of the glass doors, but he can't bring himself to care. "I'm just gonna hibernate in the dorm till April."
She laughs. "Good luck with that." Something catches her attention and she turns around to look. "You've got a customer," she whispers. "And he's hot."
Jared tries to look less hungover and more helpful and attentive, but Sandy shoots him a glare that lets him clearly know he's not pulling it off. The guy sets a messenger bag down in one of the booths and leans over the table to lay his jacket on the seat. Jared's bleary eyes focus long enough to get a fantastic view of the guy's tight, perfectly-sculpted ass. Then he turns around and walks toward the counter and Jared completely forgets to breathe when he gets a close-up look at the guy's face. He could be a model.
Fuck that, he could be a Greek god.
Obscenely full lips, cherry red from the early morning chill, turn up in a hesitant smile as he approaches the register. As he comes closer, Jared can't help but notice his striking green eyes and the freckles sprinkled like cinnamon across his cold-flushed cheeks.
"What can I get you?" asks Jared, absurdly proud of himself for putting a whole sentence together when he still has a bitch of a headache and his brain feels like it's working at half speed.
"Uh...what's good here?" he asks quietly.
"I'm a big fan of the white chocolate mocha," Jared replies, attempting a flirty smile.
He smiles shyly back. "Sounds good."
Jared turns to make the drink and notices Sandy out of the corner of his eye. She's beaming and giving him two thumbs up. He nods in the direction of the entrance, hoping she'll make herself scarce so as not to scare him off. Her lips slide into a sly grin and she scurries off toward the stairs.
"Here you go," says Jared, slipping a blue sleeve onto the cup and setting it down.
The guy raises an eyebrow. "You look like you need this more than I do."
"I've already had two," Jared answers, inadvertently telling the truth.
"Good night, bad morning?" The guy pulls out his wallet and hands Jared a five-dollar bill.
"Something like that." Jared turns around to hide his disappointment; he was hoping to get the guy's name off his student ID. If he's using cash, he's got to be at least a junior, possibly even a grad student or junior faculty. Fuck.
Jared hands the guy his change. "Enjoy it," he says with the biggest grin he can muster.
"I, uh...I will," he replies with a soft smile. He takes the cup to his booth and slides in.
A small tour group comes in, led by Julie from Jared's psych class. The parents both order plain coffees but the prospective orders the most elaborate drink on the menu. He vaguely listens to Julie's spiel on work-study jobs and meal plans as he blends and whips and drizzles. Once they're gone he cleans up and sets out pastries for about five minutes, after which Jared expects the cute guy to be gone. He looks out at the seating area, bracing himself to see the booth empty. But the guy is still there and he's...no, he can't be.
He's knitting. Knitting! Jared's seen some weird things at college, but a totally hot guy sitting in the Union knitting like a little old lady in a nursing home is one of the weirdest.
Strong, dexterous fingers fly around the points of two wooden needles, moving faster than Jared would ever think possible. Jared can't take his eyes off of the hypnotic motion of the guy's hands. Curiosity is fast getting the better of him; he wants to understand what the guy's doing with his needles and yarn and his fucking amazing hands. And then Jared wants those fucking amazing hands on him.
A gaggle of female athletes comes in then, clad in matching jackets and knee socks. They drop their gear beside the condiment station and order just about everything on the beverage menu, which keeps Jared busy for a good half hour. A heavyset woman, presumably some kind of coach, marches in and yells at them and they all take off for their bus. Another tour group comes in, then a bunch of guys from the weight room, and it takes him a good ten minutes to clean everything up afterwards. By the time he turns back around, the booth is empty.
Jared's heart sinks, but then he notices the dark shape on the corner of the counter. It's a hat, a good winter hat with a thick brim to cover his ears. He tries it on; it fits perfectly, even on his freakishly large head, and the surprisingly soft yarn might even be real wool. He takes it off and is about to put it under the counter when he notices a scrap of paper pinned to it. It's a note: For your next walk of shame.
"Is that his number?"
Jared jumps. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me."
"Please tell me you got his number," says Sandy. "If not for you, then for me."
"Sorry," says Jared, not even pretending to mean it. He holds up the hat. "Just this."
She frowns. "He gave you a...hat?"
"He knitted me a hat. While he was sitting here." Jared can't help sounding a little bit smug.
She holds out a hand and Jared hands her the hat. "He knitted this. Himself. Today?"
"Yup," Jared replies with a grin.
"Huh." She turns the hat over in her hands. "This is really nice. God, you have a ridiculously huge head."
He grins. "That's because I'm so smart. My head has to be huge to contain all the brainpower."
"All the bullshit, you mean," she teases, but she's smiling. "So if you didn't get his number, you had to get his name. Right?"
Jared frowns. "He paid with cash. No ID."
"Damn." She hands the hat back to him. "Although, a gorgeous mystery man who knits in public can't be that hard to find."
As it turns out, Sandy is completely wrong. The guy doesn't come by the coffee bar during Jared's next Saturday morning shift and Jared doesn't see him during his weekday shifts in the dining hall either. He takes to wandering the Union and the library during his free time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mystery knitter, but two weeks go by and Jared never sees him once.
A few days later, Jared stops by his mailbox and finds a small box inside. It's too small to be a care package from home, and there's no return address which means it was sent by campus mail. He takes the box to a nearby lounge and opens it.
Inside is a pair of hobo gloves--the kind with no fingers--made out of the same navy blue yarn as his hat, and they fit really well, snug in all the right places but stretchy enough to be comfortable. A note falls out of the box and Jared grins when he reads it: Didn't want your hat to be lonely. His face falls when he realizes that once again, there's no name or contact info of any kind on the note or the box.
The next Saturday, Jared returns from his shift to find something hanging from the doorknob of his dorm room. It's a navy blue scarf which, when he unwinds it, turns out to be about five feet long and a good six or seven inches wide, with a pattern of tiny holes throughout. This time the note is pinned to the garment itself: Figured you might as well have the whole set. Hope you like it. As usual, there's no name, no number, no hint of Knitting Guy's identity whatsoever.
This guy is going to drive Jared crazy.
Jared's breakthrough comes in the beginning of November. During one of his Saturday morning shifts, a girl comes to the counter wearing a clearly hand-knitted scarf and hat. "This is gonna sound really weird," says Jared, "but do you know a guy--tall, dark hair, ton of freckles--who can knit?"
The girl looks up. "You mean Jensen? Uh, yeah, I know him...oh, you must be Jared!"
"Y-yeah, that's me," replies Jared. "But how do you--"
"Jensen talks about you all the time!" she chirps. She takes a step backward and looks Jared up and down in a way that makes him feel a little uneasy. "And I can see why. We've been trying to get him to talk to you for weeks."
"He keeps leaving me stuff," Jared explains. "I just want to thank him."
She beams. "Come to the ARC tomorrow night between 8:00 and 10:00."
"He'll be there?"
She nods. "Definitely. Our Stitch 'n Bitch club meets every Sunday night."
Jared bites back a laugh. "Well, thank you, um..."
"Danneel," she replies. "See you tomorrow!"
Sunday evening Jared changes his shirt four times, asking Chad's opinion of each. Finally, Chad snaps. "I'm not your fucking fag hag. I'm trying to do my calc homework and I can't concentrate for shit."
"Why am I friends with you?" Jared grumbles, buttoning the last few buttons on his green shirt, which is a tiny bit too small now that he has access to a 24-hour gym. He shrugs on his gray down jacket and wraps his scarf around his neck. He debates wearing the hat but eventually decides that since he's having a pretty good hair day he'll skip it. He does put on the gloves even though they are a little too skimpy for a night like this. Why the hell did he ever think that going to college in New England was a good idea? It always looked so pretty in the brochures--none of them showed icicles and frosted windshields.
He finally decides he can't wait any longer and heads over to the Union at 8:02. The Allies Resource Center (or as it's known to most people, the Rainbow Room) is on the second floor next to Res Life. As Jared passes the Res Life outer office, he can hear giggling and music coming from the ARC's open door. He smoothes his hair, tugs on the hem of his shirt, and steps into the doorway.
The room falls silent. He glances around and sees Jensen sitting on a couch in the corner next to a petite blonde girl, demonstrating something on her needles. A second later, he looks up. "What's goin--" His eyes fall on Jared. "On," he finishes in a barely audible voice. "What are you doing here?"
Jared grins and tries to look gay, single, available, and charming. "A little birdie told me you might be here."
"But you--I never told you who I was!"
"Your friends clearly have your best interests at heart," Jared replies.
Jensen glares at Danneel. "I will kill you. Slowly. In your sleep."
"He wanted to find you," Danneel points out. "He asked me if I knew you."
Jensen turns to Jared. "You did?"
Jared nods. "I did." He grins. "I wanted to say thank you. You know, for all the stuff you made me. I love them; you're really talented."
Jensen looks away, blushing. "The patterns were really easy," he mumbles. "I just had to adjust the size from child to very large adult."
"Well, they all fit perfectly, so you did a good job," Jared replies over a few giggles.
"So, um...is that it?" Jensen meets Jared's gaze and the naked hope in his eyes is almost painful to see.
"Well, I was hoping you would teach me how to knit," says Jared. "Maybe with a...private lesson or two?" He raises one eyebrow and grins suggestively.
Jensen blushes so red he matches the AIDS ribbon on the wall. "I, um, guess that could be arranged..."
"You know, we're pretty good here," says a dark-haired girl. "If you, y'know, wanted to step out for a bit."
Jared shoots her a grateful smile. Jensen picks up a plastic jug with an oblong ball of yarn inside. "Well, I've got most of my supplies at my apartment, so..."
"Lead the way."
Ten minutes later, Jared finds himself in Jensen's apartment--more specifically, Jensen's bedroom. It's obviously meant for two people; there are two beds pushed together to make a double and a desk twice as big as the ones in Jared's room. Across Jensen's bed lies what looks to be a crazy quilt made out of yarn--the squares are all different sizes, colors, and textures. At least half of the squares are solid red or blue; the rest are other solid primary colors and a few are striped with different colors. A blue scallop pattern edges the entire blanket.
"This is amazing," Jared says, fingering a diamond-patterned square. "You made this whole thing?"
"Someone else crocheted the edge and helped me sew most of the seams," replies Jensen. "But other than that, yes."
"Wow." Jared looks up at Jensen, who's hovering in the doorway. "How long did it take?"
"Not as long as you think," answers Jensen, a hint of darkness in his eyes and voice. "Pull the chair up to the bed with the back against the mattress." Jared complies, then watches Jensen pull a pair of blue metal needles and a long ball of garish safety-orange yarn from a crate in the corner. Jensen points to the chair with the needles. "Sit down."
Once Jared is seated, Jensen hands him the end of the yarn and then climbs on the bed behind him. Jared feels the point of Jensen's chin touch his shoulder, then Jensen reaches his arms around so his hands mirror Jared's. Jensen is so close that Jared can smell toothpaste and aftershave. "Okay, hold your hands out, palm up."
Jensen shows him how to grasp the needles and tie the slipknot to make the first stitch. Jared tries to focus only on Jensen's words and not on Jensen's hot breath on his cheek or Jensen's firm pecs on his back, but it's no use; he's getting hard already.
"Now, there are two ways to cast on," Jensen continues, seemingly unaffected. "I encourage beginners to use the two-needle method because you don't need to know in advance how much yarn you need."
"Okay," Jared murmurs.
"Now, take your right needle and slip it under the yarn and behind the left needle, like this." Jensen wraps his hand around Jared's and pushes the needle through the loop.
This is not helping! Jared's upstairs brain cries. His cock strains painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Jensen wraps the yarn around the tip of the right needle, Jared's hand still firmly in his grasp, and manipulates the two needle points so that the new loop ends up on the right needle. Jared just about loses it.
"Jesus Christ," Jared hisses. He tips his head back and kisses Jensen's jaw, hoping he'll get the hint and angle his head so that Jared can kiss those fucking perfect lips he's been dreaming about since day one.
He does.
Jensen trails his hand down Jared's chest, flipping buttons open with a single practiced flick of the wrist. Jared turns and, in one smooth motion, kicks over the chair and steps between Jensen's spread legs, pressing his cock into Jensen's stomach. Jensen pulls Jared's shirt free and then slips off his own, tossing them both aside. Jared helps Jensen out of his jeans and shorts and then shucks his own before bodily shifting Jensen to the middle of the bed.
"You have no idea," Jared breathes. "Wanted this for so long." He straddles Jensen's hips and presses their cocks together. Jensen moans and jerks his hips upwards.
"Want you in me," murmurs Jensen. He gestures to the bedside table. "Top drawer under the directory."
Jared crawls toward the head of the bed and Jensen captures his cock with lips seemingly bestowed upon him for just this type of sin. Jared reaches into the drawer while Jensen licks and sucks and flicks his tongue over Jared's slit in such a way that he literally goes weak in the knees and has to quickly grab the edge of the table to keep from losing his balance. He scrabbles for the supplies he needs and finally grasps them. Jensen releases Jared's cock with this succulent pop that nearly makes Jared come right then and there.
Jared lubes up his fingers and gently presses one into the cleft of Jensen's ass. He's pretty damn tight, so Jared wraps his lips around the head of Jensen's cock to distract him. As Jared runs his tongue around the sensitive ridge, Jensen relaxes a bit and Jared presses further in. He teases Jensen with his mouth as he slowly stretches Jensen to fit his above-average girth. Jensen keeps letting out these little breathy moans that make Jared's cock pulse with want.
"Do it," Jensen gasps.
Jared slips the condom on and spreads a generous amount of lube over it. He enters Jensen slowly, fractionally, until Jensen arches his hips in invitation. Jared drives inward and fists Jensen's cock in one massive hand. "More," Jensen demands. Jared brushes Jensen's prostate and Jensen's hips buck; Jared uses the reaction to his advantage, inching back and then thrusting as deep as he can. Jensen drops his head back, exposing the full expanse of his glistening neck. Jared licks a trail down Jensen's throat, nipping gently at the hollow there. He bites Jensen's shoulder as he buries himself in Jensen and Jensen comes with a bitten-off groan, clenching down on Jared hard enough to make Jared come as well.
Jared collapses on the bed next to Jensen and takes care of the condom. As soon as he's done, Jensen cuddles up to him, resting his head on Jared's shoulder and laying one arm across Jared's stomach. "I should have known you were a cuddler," Jared whispers in his ear.
"What's wrong with that?" Jensen asks sleepily.
"Nothing," Jared replies. "Nothing at all."
"Okay, so this time you really are going to learn," says Jensen, sitting at the table next to Jared. After two more "private lessons" that were anything but, Jensen moved the lessons to the ARC, where they're surrounded by other people. Granted, these other people are straight and bisexual girls who are probably fantasizing right now about the two of them making out, but still, it's the principle of the thing.
Jensen goes over two-needle casting on and tells Jared to cast on 16 stitches. At first Jared has trouble getting the tension right, but Jensen shows him what he's doing wrong and after a few minutes Jared casts on all 16 stitches by himself. Jensen's proud grin is a little blinding.
Next, Jensen shows him the knit stitch. At first, Jared's stitches are too tight, then he overcorrects and makes them too loose. It takes about twenty minutes for him to produce a whole row of even stitches.
It definitely helps that Jensen kisses the back of Jared's neck every time he gets it right.
"Are you going home for Thanksgiving break?"
Jensen looks up from the afghan square he's making but never stops knitting for a second. "Nah, I'm not flying back to Texas just for a week."
Jared's eyes widen. "You're from Texas?"
Jensen laughs. "Yeah, I'm a gay Texas boy who knits. I can see where you wouldn't have put that one together."
"I'm from San Antonio," Jared replies.
That's enough to make Jensen stop knitting in the middle of a row. "Seriously? I'm from Richardson. That's so...awesome but bizarre."
"So how does a gay Texas boy learn to knit, anyway?" asks Jared.
Jensen stops knitting at the end of a row and sets his needles down. "When I was 13, I got hit by a car and broke my right hip and leg pretty badly. I had to have a couple surgeries and I wasn't allowed to get out of bed for three months. One of the social workers taught me to knit just so I'd have something to do besides watch TV. By the time I finished physical therapy I had all the squares in that blanket done, so she helped me sew it together."
"Wow." Jared doesn't really know what else to say.
Jensen takes his knitting back up. "So now most of the stuff we knit at Stitch 'n Bitch goes to hospitals. We send the individual squares to a volunteer group that puts them together into afghans for kids, and we knit hats for people with cancer. Sometimes the girls feel like making baby clothes and those go to the teen mothers program."
Jared sighs. "I think I have to break up with you."
Jensen's head snaps up, eyes wide with panic. "What?" he sputters.
"You're too good a person. I don't want to corrupt you."
Jensen grabs a row counter and chucks it at Jared's head as Jared laughs. "Bastard!"
"You should have seen the look on your face."
Jensen frowns. "That wasn't funny. I told you something personal, something that only my closest friends and family know, and you used it to fuck with me."
"I'm sorry." Jared reaches across the table and covers Jensen's hand with his own. "Really. That was a dick move and I'm really, really sorry."
Jensen is silent for a long moment. "Just don't ever do it again."
"I could make it up to you," offers Jared, waggling his eyebrows. "Chad's got lab until 4:00, so we could go back to my room."
"I am not letting you off that easy," grumbles Jensen.
"How about I throw in an off-campus lunch first?"
Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Anywhere I want?"
"Name it." Jared smiles. "I did a couple sub shifts last week, so I've got some extra cash."
Jensen grins wickedly. "I've got plenty of scrap in my bag...how do you feel about role-playing?"