One – ring.
Jensen isn't a guy that needs rings and vows and promises—Cougar's fingers tangled in his when he wakes up is more than enough.
Two – hero.
Uncle Jake has always been the love of her life, until the day she meets Cougar and he plants his hat on top of her head—then all bets are off.
Three – memory.
Somewhere buried in Cougar's family home are pictures of his parents laughing and dancing together in some of their happiest moments, and one day he wants to be able to look back and remember times like that with Jake.
Four – box.
It'll be fine, he tells himself, he'll take all these stupid feelings and lock them away in a box—in a safe!—and bury it six feet under and surround it with landmines and alligators and dingoes and no one will ever know how his stomach tightens or his heart flutters or palms get sweaty 'cause they don't so just fuck off already!
Five – run.
Even before he was Special Ops, Jensen was a runner—and Cougar has never really appreciated rooming with the hacker more until the first time he gets to ogle sweat-slick skin from under the safety of his hat.
Six – hurricane.
Former lovers have tried to tame him—tried to calm the wild energy that flows through his soul and blood and fingertips; but Cougar just sits in the middle of the storm and lets it wash over him with a small grin.
Seven – wings.
It's the stupidest and corniest saying ever invented and every time he hears/says/friggin' thinks it he can feel his balls shrivel up—but every time Cougar whispers those three words into his ear, his heart soars.
Eight – cold.
It's not a secret that Jensen is a walking, breathing furnace, so no one blinks when Cougar (who has notoriously poor blood-circulation) starts crawling into his sleeping bag during the ops situated in the more—"motherfucking freezing my balls off here!"—chilly areas of the world.
Nine – red.
Cougar's vision hazes over every time someone lays a hand on Jensen, and he may or may not go out of his way to make sure those people die a little slower.
Ten – drink.
He secretly hates it when Jensen drinks; all the ridiculous chatter and ADD-ness falls away, leaving behind a suave and charming figure wrapped in golden skin and muscles—and it's not so bad when it's just the five of them, but when they're out on the town he's like a fucking magnet to every single and not-so-single person out there and as badass as he is it's kind of hard to glare at four people at the same time.
Eleven – midnight.
Their first New Years together they're in the middle of a three-way gunfight; naturally they miss the countdown and Jensen totally isn't pouting about it later or anything, especially when Cougar finally rolls his eyes, hauls him over and kisses him in front of the whole team—catcalls and jeering be damned.
Twelve – temptation.
Jensen is of the opinion that DADT was created by people that have never seen Cougar—especially in those fucking jeans.
Thirteen – view.
He's following Jensen through his scope—making sure he gets to the warehouse without being caught—when the hacker gets tangled in the barbed wire halfway over the fence; and if Cougar spends a few extra seconds admiring the view, no one has to know.
Fourteen – music.
Jensen is the only one outside the Alvarez family who knows that Cougar can sing—and well, too.
Fifteen – silk.
Aisha's hair is like silk—a fact he only knows thanks to a few joints and a whole lot of whiskey—but Jensen prefers the feel of Cougar's thick and heavy in his hands any day.
Sixteen – cover.
In all his years, he hasn't ever felt safer then when he's facing down heavily-armed terrorists with unnecessarily large guns pointed at his face, with the knowledge that Cougar has his back.
Seventeen – promise.
"We'll put pants on if you swear to knock first next time—it's called common courtesy, Aisha, really."
Eighteen – dream.
Jake dreams in Technicolour and explosions and chocolate and cowboy hats.
Nineteen – candle.
Every year on the anniversary, Jensen sneaks off from wherever they are and sets twenty-five scraps of paper on fire—candles aren't usually on their packing itinerary—and when Cougar finds out, he doesn't say a word, just kisses the hacker on the forehead and is there the next year when Jensen goes to sneak off again.
Twenty – talent.
There's an old piano tucked in the corner of the Jensen living room—Cougar assumes it's for Beth—until one night while they're visiting, he hears gentle melodies and crescendos wafting up the stairs, and wanders down to see Jake sitting on the bench, his niece curled in his lap as she watches her uncle's nimble fingers dance up and down the keys through half-lidded eyes.
Twentyone – silence.
In three years, he's only ever had to give Cougar the silent treatment once.
Twentytwo – journey.
"DON'T STOP BELIEVIN'!—aw, c'mon Cougs! You know the words!—HOLD ON TO THAT FEELING! STREETLIGHT—ow! What the fuck was that for?"
Twentythree – fire.
The first time Cougar ever kisses him, his blood ignites and Jensen knows this is it for him.
Twentyfour – strength.
Cougar might be lithe and wiry, but there's a surprising strength coiled beneath his frame—showcased each time he manages to flip Jensen over and get him pinned.
Twentyfive – mask.
Pooch is the one to find him after he loses it—crumpled on the floor of the bathroom, hands tangled in his hair, struggling to breathe—but it's Cougar who crawls into his lap and cradles him, murmuring nonsense into his ear until he can pull himself back together.
Twentysix – ice.
He tries to ignore it—tries to keep his heart iced over to the bright grin and obnoxious t-shirts, tries to ignore the wide blue eyes and nonsensical chatter—but keeping out Jake Jensen is like locking a blind, three-legged puppy outside in the cold and Cougar's willing to bet even fucking Wade isn't that much of a douchebag.
Twentyseven – fall.
He knows the first time he ever laid eyes on the sniper, most of the blood in his body migrated south—he knows that the first time he ever saw Cougar smile, his heart stopped beating for three seconds—he knows the first time they couldn't find him after a botched mission, his knees threatened to give out and he nearly puked—what he doesn't know, or more exact, can't figure out, is the exact moment he knew he was in love.
Twentyeight – forgotten.
Sometimes when they're curled together and Jensen is muttering about cabbage and algorithms in his sleep, Cougar can almost forget the insane asylum that is his life.
Twentynine – dance.
He's supposed to be charming their mark out of info on her sleazy drug-dealing boyfriend, but he keeps catching glimpses of Cougar's lean form twisting and writhing out on the crowded dance floor, and really—how is anyone supposed to ignore that?
Thirty – body.
Cougar prides himself on being a good soldier—cool, calm, controlled—but the first time Jensen strips off his shirt and the sniper gets a good look at the corded muscles rippling under golden skin, he walks into a wall.
Thirtyone – sacred.
It wasn't hard to figure out that something was going on between their hacker and sniper the day Jensen accidently burnt off a piece of Cougar's hat—and the world didn't end violently and suddenly.
Thirtytwo – farewells.
Nobody says anything as Jensen stares silently out the back window to where his niece and sister are waving from the end of their driveway—and if he sighs and slumps a little closer to Cougar, nobody bats an eye.
Thirtythree – world.
In the stillness of the night, the world narrows down to the feel of Jensen's comforting bulk pressed against him and his lips flirting with his pulse.
Thirtyfour – formal.
Clay pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a harsh sigh, "So let me get this straight—you're asking for my permission to… to court Cougar?"
Thirtyfive – fever.
They're naked and trembling and the slide of Cougar's chest against his back has Jake absolutely burning.
Thirtysix – laugh.
Sometimes he thinks it's a good thing Cougar is quiet—the first time Jensen ever heard the husky rumble that was the sniper's laugh he'd tackled him into the nearest corner and practically mauled him.
Thirtyseven – lies.
Cougar's convinced that Jensen would give a speech on how the sun revolves around the earth just to hear himself speak.
Thirtyeight – forever.
It takes a nuke to wipe out Jensen's visions of forever.
Thirtynine – overwhelmed.
His whole body is numb and he's trembling so badly he can practically hear his bones rattling and there's this odd feeling in his chest like his heart and lungs are trying to make a break for it and he wants to say something anything and the words are all fighting over each other trying to be the first up and out of his throat but what the fuck do you even say when you just watched twenty-five kids snuffed out in an explosion of metal and fire?
Forty – whisper.
They're naked again and he's writhing and panting and Cougar is moving so fucking slowly over him with that smug little grin and he's sososo close but all he can really focus on is the accented murmur in his ear—"te amo, te amo, te amo, Jake."
Fortyone – wait.
He tries to wait before making a move—cause sure he's seen Cougar flirt with men and women but besides being overly protective he's never really made a move towards him so the last thing he wants to do his scare him off cause yeah Jensen's in love with him but Cougar is also his best friend and he's pretty sure that if Cougar completely turns him out he'll die.
Fortytwo – talk.
Jake Jensen is a talker—he chatters during the day, monologues under his breath while in the shower, mumbles in his sleep, and begsdemandspleads when Cougar has him pinned to the mattress.
Fortythree – search.
Jensen is gone—Jensen is gone and missing and Cougar hasn't slept in four days and when he finds the people that took his Jake he's going to tear them apart with his bare hands.
Fortyfour – hope.
There's blood in his ears—and eyes, mouth and nose—but he's 89% sure he can hear screaming, and he's really hoping it means Cougar's here and it's not actually himself.
Fortyfive – eclipse.
"So… so I have decided that we—we are an astra- astronomical event and by which I mean an eclipse—but the one with planets and shit not those fucking books… vampires...—an eclipse is a type of sy- siz- motherfucker… syzygy which in the broadest sense of the term means unity… expe- especially when you're talking about like, alignment and coordination which is so us Cougs cause we are united and aligned like shit man… ohmigod I want a cheeseburger so bad!"
Fortysix – gravity.
Even Roque can't deny that there was always a pull between the sniper and hacker from Day One.
Fortyseven – highway.
"LIFE IS A HIGHWAY! I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!"—"Cougs? Best shut your boy up before the Pooch does it for you."
Fortyeight – unknown.
He doesn't know what's going to happen to them, where they're going to end up or even if they're all going to make it, but as long as Jensen keeps grinning at him like that he'll follow him to anywhere.
Fortynine – lock.
"Aw, c'mon Cougs! I said I was sorry—lemme in already, it's freezing out here!... or at least throw me some pants!"
Fifty – breathe.
They're covered in blood and ash and he can hear sirens in the distance, but he can't be bothered to care because as of this very moment, the rise and fall of Jake Jensen's chest is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
a/n: say it with me now, "d'awww!" who doesn't love our favourite boys? this was done based on the 1sentence prompt over at ElJay.
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