whitereflection | few minutes between one thing and the other (Reply)

Little background on this. Thought of this scene when Bebop-cat died a few weeks back. Just wasn't something I was up to working with then.

So it's sad, and deals with, at least in a short way, the loss of and grief for animal-family. There's another half I want to do involving the time coming when a person chooses to bring another pet into their life--which I think is why I could finally write this out--but I didn't get to that bit today, ran out of time and energy. I'd like to do that other bit tomorrow.

Anyway, vaguely J2, death of pets implied.

Day 28 11/28/10

"It isn't supposed to be quiet out here," Jared says.

Sitting out on the back steps, looking out at the yard, he's holding the old tennis ball, rolling it slowly back and forth from one hand to the other. He doesn't throw it; there isn't anything--anyone--to throw it to, anyway.

Jensen sets a bottle of beer, companion to his own, down on the deck next to Jared, but the other man doesn't open it. He doesn't even notice it's there.

"It seemed like they'd always be here, you know?" Jared's voice is quiet, raw, tight. "I mean, I understood logically that they wouldn't be. I just...it just felt like they would."

They'd been prepared for this to happen for one of them, sort of; or as prepared as anyone could ever truly be for such a thing. But for it to happen to both, one almost right after the other?

He sits beside Jared, one arm going around his waist. The other man cradles the tennis ball between his palms, gazing out at the yard, unblinking, as if seeing only what used to be there.

"They should still be here," Jared whispers thickly.

"I know." Jensen squeezes his lover gently, holding him close, and strokes a comforting hand over his side. "I know."

(214)

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