Life For Rent

Chapter 20 : Taction

Author's Notes :
- Spoilers for S1E15.
- Taction : touch, contact
- I messed with the timeline a little bit. The Lakers/Knicks game was on a Friday, I think, and since Sam was going to eat with them on a Monday, I made it so that S1E15 happened the same week, just a few days later, than S1E14. It's great to write fan-fic where you can just manipulate the timeline however you want. Haha. Oh, the power!
- Thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. You really do brighten my day.

"How was the game?" Jared murmured sleepily.

Callen felt his eyelids go heavy as he slid into bed behind Jared. He hooked an arm over Jared's waist.

"Good. Lakers won."

"What was the score?"

"Don't remember," Callen mumbled. "Ask me in the morning."

Jared shifted backwards, further into Callen's arms. "Okay. Goodnight, G."

"Night."

"What are your feelings on a Michael Jackson glove?"

Jared looked up from the omelet he was making. He covered his mouth and yawned. He'd gotten up early for deliveries and had rushed back so that he could make G breakfast before his boyfriend had to go to work.

"A legit one?" Jared asked.

G grinned, "I love when you say 'legit'."

"I know," Jared said with a laugh. "What I don't know is why…?"

G paused and then, "Back to the glove…"

Jared shook his head and turned back to his omelet, watching the cheese melt.

"You didn't answer my question," Jared said to G who was currently trying not to look like he was sneaking some white chocolate. Jared had a small bowl of white chocolate truffles for G that sat on the counter. There was another small bowl on the coffee table and a smaller one in the bedroom.

"Yeah, very legit one. Thrown by Michael Jackson at a concert."

Jared raised an eyebrow and slid the first omelet onto a plate. He resisted adding the normal decoration of parsley to the top and then turned around and set the plate down in front of G.

"Toast? And I don't really have any feelings on a Michael Jackson glove."

"Really? And no toast, thanks," G answered.

"You should eat more and yes, really."

"I eat plenty," G countered. He used his fork to cut a small end off of the omelet before stabbing it. "You just want me to get fatter so that you can be the hotter one."

"I thought I already was the hotter one," Jared answered, turning back to pour some egg into the pan.

"Oh yeah?" G challenged.

"Yep."

"And why would you think that?"

"Probably had something to do with you yelling my name at the top of your lungs and telling me how hot I am," Jared said smoothly.

G coughed behind him and Jared hid his smirk.

"You really don't play fair," G complained.

"Nope."

A few minutes later, Jared's omelet was done and he took the seat at the counter next to G. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company before Jared frowned and sniffed lightly.

"What's that smell?"

"What smell?" G asked.

"I don't know…" Jared leaned over and sniffed the air closer to G. "Your jacket reeks of it."

G looked at him and then raised an arm to his nose and inhaled.

"Oh, that smell."

"Yes, that smell," Jared concurred. "What is it?"

"You'll probably freak out a little bit if I tell you."

"I'll freak out a little bit if you don't," Jared countered.

"Hmm."

G gave him a speculative glance and then a sheepish look crossed his face.

"It's gunpowder."

"Gunpowder," Jared repeated dully. "As in the stuff that guns leave behind."

"Pretty much," G agreed with false levity.

"G."

"Jared."

Jared pushed away what was left of his omelet and watched as G ate the last piece of his own breakfast. Jared reached over and took G's free hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"G."

"Yeah?" G asked softly.

"I… promise me you'll be careful."

G pushed away his plate and then turned to face Jared, an unrecognizable look on his face.

"I promise," G said quietly, meeting Jared's eyes.

Jared nodded and wrapped his other hand around the hand he was holding, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you."

The corner of G's mouth quirked up just ever so slightly and Jared recognized the beginning of a smile.

"No problem."

"Why the rush to get out of here?" Kensi asked, late Monday afternoon.

Callen typed a little faster and glanced over at Sam who was writing something out into a file.

"Got plans."

"With the sexy boyfriend?" Kensi asked. It was what she had taken to calling Jared. Callen thought it was accurate, despite it being weird.

"Yup."

"What're the plans?" She asked, perching on the edge of Callen's desk.

"They're a secret."

"A secret?"

"Yup."

"You finished, G?" Sam asked, standing up.

Callen filled in the last line and hit 'save'.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

Kensi looked back and forth between the two men.

"Sam gets to play with the sexy boyfriend but I don't?" She asked innocently.

Callen wasn't falling for it. "Yep."

"I don't bite," Kensi said with a mock pout.

Sam laughed as he stepped up behind Kensi.

Callen smirked, "Now why don't I believe that?"

"I don't!" Kensi defended. She paused and thought better of it. "Unless you ask really nicely."

Callen laughed and stood up. He pulled on his jacket.

"Later Kensi."

She sighed, "Try not to have too much fun."

"We will," Sam promised with a grin. He slung an arm across Callen's shoulders and led them out of the building. "You excited, G?" He asked, unlocking his car.

Callen shrugged and dropped into the passenger seat, shutting the door and pulling the belt buckle across his torso. He thought of the fajitas that Jared was making for them and smiled.

"I guess."

"Well, I for one am excited. You've been talking about his food like it's God's gift to the world."

"I have?"

Sam laughed and turned the car on, putting it into reverse. He slowly backed out as he confirmed, "For weeks."

"Huh. I don't remember doing that," Callen remarked.

"Sure, G. Whatever you say."

Callen rolled his eyes as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"Jared's been excited. I think he likes you."

"Am I sensing a bit of jealousy?" Sam joked.

Callen snorted, "Hardly. I think he's just excited to have someone else to cook for."

"Doesn't the man cook for like, a hundred people every night?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but he rarely gets feedback."

"I'm supposed to give him feedback?"

Callen looked at Sam. "You? Feedback? No. I'll give him feedback for you."

Sam looked at him with an eyebrow raised, stopping the car at a red light. "So I tell you the food was good and you tell him?"

"Something like that," Callen said with a touch of mystery.

Sam shook his head and laugh. "You're somethin' else, G."

Callen grinned, "I know."

Sam observed the couple in front of him. Jared was cooking some chicken in a skillet and G was slicing red peppers for him. It had been a shock to see G in the kitchen at all considering the last Sam knew G couldn't even boil water.

He'd never observed them alone. Even at the pub there had been people around, and what Sam could see now was very telling.

G was comfortable. Jared casually--and often--would brush his hand lightly across G's hip or shoulder and G, in response, would step closer to Jared, into his personal space. They exchanged small looks and unasked questions about food and other things--an unspoken language that came with knowing someone. But most of all… there was a smile on G's face. It wasn't huge or goofy or fake, it was small and real and innocent and just a little bit fragile.

Sam wondered if G knew how deep in love he was. Sam had never seen his partner like this. There had been girls, yes, and now Sam knew there had probably been a guy or two (but Sam never asked and G never told) but G had never looked as relaxed as he did now. Never looked as happy.

It was a nice look on G. G had been alone so long that Sam was beginning to worry just a little bit. He didn't want G to be alone forever, everyone deserved someone. Jared was a nice guy, great by all accounts and Sam couldn't really picture anyone better for G.

"Can you set the table?" Jared asked softly.

G nodded and set the cutting board with the sliced peppers on it next to the stove. The scene was very domestic.

"You want another beer, Sam?" G asked, pulling down some plates.

"Sure," Sam answered.

G set the plates down at the dining room table before going back to the fridge and opening it up. He pulled a bottle out and handed it to Sam. Sam accepted the brown bottle and reached for the bottle opener next to him.

"Wine, Jared?" G asked.

Jared glanced over at G and nodded. "Red, please."

Sam watched as G selected an opened, but re-corked, bottle of red wine and poured some in a wine glass. He handed the glass to Jared who accepted it with a small smile and soft words of thanks.

G finished setting the table with silverware and napkins before pulling down a glass for himself. Sam watched as G pulled a pitcher of something out of the fridge and poured himself a glass. Sam looked at it curiously and then looked at G.

"It's iced tea."

"It's pink," Sam stated, looking at the drink.

"It's pomegranate iced tea."

"You hate iced tea."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," Sam countered. "I've never seen you drink it. Ever."

"Well, I like this iced tea," Callen responded. "Jared brews it."

Sam glanced over at Jared who was stirring something in the skillet.

"Hmm."

G let out a small laugh and took a sip of his drink.

"Food ready?" He called over to Jared.

"Almost, G. Keep your pants on," Jared answered with a grin, looking over his shoulder at them.

"That's not what you said last night," G countered and Sam choked on the beer he was swallowing. G shot him a smirk.

"No traumatizing your co-worker, G." Jared admonished lightly, but Sam could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Sam's heard worse."

"Not by much," Sam muttered and took another sip of beer.

"You know… I can change that," G offered with another grin and a twinkle in his eyes. Sam had really never seen him this happy.

"Ignorance is bliss, G."

"Suuure it is," G answered with a laugh.

"Stop moving," Jared mumbled.

Callen froze and held his breath on instinct. After a minute he let it out very slowly and took another deep breath, trying not to move.

"I didn't mean freeze up, G," Jared said apologetically, sounding more awake.

A warm body pressed up behind Callen's and a hand drifted down Callen's bare chest and the hand moved lower to gently fondle more sensitive areas. A knee pressed between Callen's bent legs and Callen slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. It took a minute to relax into Jared's embrace, to let himself feel Jared's hands on him, to feel the warm breath on the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Callen offered quietly.

"What's keeping you up?" Jared whispered.

Callen closed his eyes and tried to forget about the nightmare he'd just had. A combination of his childhood and getting shot.

"Nothing."

"G…" Jared pressed a kiss to Callen's bare shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know."

Callen thought that if there were ever someone he could talk to, it would be Jared. But he didn't want Jared to know how messed up he was. He didn't want Jared to know about the people Callen had killed or about the people who had tried to kill Callen.

"Just a bad dream," He said at last.

"Want to talk about it?" Jared offered softly.

"Not really," Callen answered truthfully.

"Want me to help you take your mind off it?"

Callen smiled to himself and pressed his hips back against Jared's pelvis in a definite yes. Jared rolled them over until he landed on top of Callen and as Jared's lips gently closed over his own, Callen wondered, once again, how he had ever gotten so lucky.

Rule number eight: never allow yourself to become distracted.