Healing a Headache

[Xander]

Jensen was not wrong. It would be better to do this elsewhere. He was trying to keep this a secret. And Xander might want to exploit it in the future. Or maybe…

There was no telling what might happen. 

They pulled up to Jensen’s building and Kristian paid the driver sliding out after his new friend. It was a nice place. Better than living in a hotel. But that was part of the whole gig. Xander had places all over the city.

Scandle had desired career. That wasn’t what Xander wanted to do. So he didn’t give the driver any ideas
 though he would have if things were different. But Kristian was not looking for scandle.

Kristian followed Jensen through the lobby and to the elevator. He was grateful that he was willing to try. Xander had seen strange things but still he wondered if it would work at all.

In the elevator Kristian stirs to the side space between them, “well then maybe just dinner or a drink, not  payment or a bribe?”

[Jensen James]

The elevator doors closed with a muted hum, brass trim glinting under warm overhead light. Kristian’s reflection stood beside Jensen’s in the mirrored wall, bow tie untied, mask discarded, fingertips still pinching the bridge of his nose against whatever storm pressed behind his eyes.

Following Kristian's offer, Jensen’s smile was small but genuine. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice steady, his words rolling with the faint cadence of Texas. “But it’s not a debt to settle. If I can help, I will. That’s the whole of it.”

The loft opened the moment the steel-framed door slid inward. Exposed ventilation stretched overhead while brick walls were worn smooth with age. A run of windows stretched the far side, their dark glass reflecting city lights. The kitchen was tucked into one end, cabinets of dark wood beneath a slab of marble, and the rest of the space flowed easy from living to sleeping, all of it tied together by a mix of sleek modern pieces and older treasures.

“It's not mine,” Jensen said easily, anticipating a comment about the space after setting his things on a narrow antique table near the door. “Fellow by the name of John Doulou owns the place. I just keep it in good order while he’s gone.”

He slipped out of his coat, hung it neatly, and gestured toward a deep, low-armed sofa in the center of the room. “Have a seat if you don't mind. It’s easier when people are comfortable. Not because it changes anything, not really-" his mouth curved faintly perhaps in memory, perhaps in fascination, “but because tension has a way of getting in the way.”

Jensen joined him, then close enough for conversation but not crowding. He turned slightly, hands open on his knees, palms angled toward Kristian. “One thing,” he said, tone gentle but unambiguous. “It helps if I’m in contact with you while I'm-- um, you know...” He didn’t move yet only lifted his brows in silent question, giving Kristian space to agree before a single touch was made.

[Xander]

It was really hard to hit on a guy who totally missed the context. Xander sighed. But Kristian smiled through it all. Everything was nice. Jensen didn’t claim any of it.

Kristian sat down as he took his coat off and draped it over the arm of the couch. He smiled as Jensen acted embarrassed about healing him. Like touching him was more than it was. So maybe there was some chance. "Touch me all you like."

All he liked. Xander braced himself for whatever was about to come. It wasn’t the touch he was leery of, it was the power. What would it feel like? Would it hurt? It was the unknown. And Xander didn’t much like the power. He didn’t trust it.

[Jensen James]

Despite the pain that Kristian seemed to be experiencing, his body language was otherwise full of ease and charming confidence. His comment was issued light and teasing, and Jensen felt a slow warmth rise to his face, not from offense, but from that familiar ripple of discomfort that came whenever someone stepped too close to a part of himself he preferred left quiet. If there was awkwardness here, he was certain it lay with him, not the other man. Kristian was clearly comfortable in his own skin, and if Jensen ever once was, well… he wasn’t sure he’d ever be that man again.

The temptation was to laugh it off, to deflect, but instead he let the moment pass without comment. Tonight wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about untangling his own knots or dwelling on Jessika’s face. The unexpected collision at the ball with a past he’d thought half a world away. Those things could wait. Tonight was about the one thing he knew was right. The thing that felt like it had been stitched into him before birth, the thing that made all the noise of the world fade to nothing.

He didn’t take Kristian's hand. Nor did he settle for the safe, neutral press of palm to shoulder. Instead, he leaned in slightly and rested his hand against the man’s cheek. His fingertips met warm skin, the faint rasp of stubble, the underlying tension in the jaw. The placement wasn’t born of intimacy. It was precision, an instinct to put the Gift exactly where it was needed most.

The moment the power moved, the world changed. Breath, sight, heartbeat. Everything slowed, deepened. His pulse fell into a meditative rhythm, steady and certain. Details rose to meet him: the flecks of color in Kristian's eyes, the way lamplight played along the line of his face, the texture of skin warmed by living heat.

And the Gift filled him. Not as something apart, but as something that was him. It flowed without effort, without hesitation, until there was no division between will and action. To be in that moment was to be entirely himself without doubt and faltering.

For Kristian, the sensation would be like a tide of warmth pulling the ache away, settling the pain until it slipped into nothingness. For Jensen, it was absolute clarity. He kept his palm there a moment longer than strictly necessary, letting that rightness linger. Because here, doing this, he was exactly what he was meant to be, and it was hard to part with the moment.

[Xander]

There was a raw sort of intimacy about the touch. His hand pressed gently against his cheek. The way the other man stared into his eyes. But there was no desire or lust lingering behind the wide eyes just power -- confidence that previous interactions seemed to lack. Jensen was at home with what he was about to do. Which made Xander all that more attracted to him in the moment.

And then the pain vanished, proceeded by a sense of warmth that radiated through his body. It was relief like none other. It was just gone. and Xander felt energized. Xander hadn't looked away when the pain drifted from his head; he didn't see the images dancing in the aura. He blocked it out, blocked any lingering pain that might come from looking too deep at the man before him. He was special. He knew that.

Xander might have taken advantage of the intimacy remaining, but Kristian was a gentleman. He played the part well. He put his hand on top of Jensen's and pressed his palm against his cheek nuzzling against it for a moment before speaking softly, "Thank you. That... was amazing." There was a moment of pause as he held Jensen's hand to his cheeck. Desire filled the low baratone of his voice. "I can go." Kristian paused dramatically, "Or you can offer me a drink and we can see where it goes." Kristian pulled Jensen's hand from his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to the palm of it then let it go. Neither answer would offend him. This was a man who had an image before, and now and Xander understood it. And being outted hadn't done him any good.