The first time it really worked for them, before it all went wrong, she felt like a goddess.
In L.A., sometime between series six and series seven, stung, Danneel had said "Yeah, we play with toys," across the table and straight to Jared's eyes, while beside her Jensen dropped his head in his hands. "We have a normal, loving relationship," Danneel said.
And Jared had lent back and grinned.
"I've got something for you," Jared will say, three years later, and Jensen will glare at him. "What, babe?" Jared will say, so very, very innocent, and Jensen will groan and say, "This never ends well." But he will be smiling. They can, then. There will be a tattoo on Jensen's hip that he'll never show his mother and a ring on his finger he never thought he'd wear.
When it started, he was wearing a different ring.
"Is there something... " Danneel said carefully, "Something I'm not doing for you, hon?" It was two weeks after Jared, in a bar, in public, had overshared on the subject of his latest girl's box of tricks.
"What?" Jensen asked her blankly. He had his glasses on and a script on his lap, a red pen in his hand. Shoes off, Danneel was curled up on the couch, glass of wine in her hand.
"In bed," Danneel said.
After their first date, Jensen's and Danneel's, Jared had said, "So... " dirty voiced low in the booth of a Vancouver bar, and Jensen had flipped over his beer mat and said, defensive, "It's not like that." Danneel had been different.
She had had a mouth on her, Danneel, like no other woman Jensen had ever slept with. "Hon," she had said, "Let's cut the bullshit. Show me what you got."
Later, and Jensen did get down on one knee, she said yes. She'll say no, too, but that's later.
They had a year, after the wedding.
After the divorce, Jared will not be so easy. After the year when they didn't speak, Jared and Jensen, after the disaster of the end of series seven, Jensen will spend twenty minutes stumbling through apologies and half-baked explanations, ueasily perched on the end of a king-size bed. It's taken five weeks of third party negotiations and Chad Michael Murray's next marriage to get them both in the same room."I'm not sure," Jensen will say, "If we can be friends-" and there will be a but and a wedding that he never says, because Jared will say "Then strip," leaning against the wall in a motel in DC with his arms folded.
"You should come over," Danneel had said, flushed with alcohol, at a season seven party. Thinking of Jared's hands, of Jared's sheer size. Of how Jensen looked, spread out on bed, waiting, every muscle tight.
Jared was sober. "Maybe I should," he said, and his eyes had slid to Jensen's flushed and laughing face, across the room.
In L.A., before season seven, Jensen had put the script down. "Something you want to tell me?" He had been smiling, his eyes crinkled.
"I wondered," Danneel answered him, and then she said, "You wanna pick me something special, hon?"
She kept the store's web page open on Jensen's lap top when she left LA for San Francisco, where she was trying out for a pilot for some NCIS spin-off. Sentimental attachment: she'd bought her first vibrator there, and when the parcel arrived at home just after she did the packaging was familiar. It was addressed to her, but she waited until Jensen got back from the Empire photo shoot to open the box. The lubricant was predictable, and the gag gifts, and possibly the dildo: it was the harness that made her blink. "Jen."
"You asked," Jensen said, and grinned at her over their kitchen table, mischievious. Danneel thought then, not without affection, but as abstractly as if Jensen was not her husband but a familiar stranger, 'He's such a boy sometimes.'
He doesn't look like a boy when Jared has him pinned to the bed. He looks like a man.
Years later, Danneel will say, "Yeah, that's Jensen. He was my starter husband." She'll smile when she says it, because the one she has then, that one she'll keep.
Both of her marriages will last longer than Chad's three.
The first night she pegged Jensen, though, Chad was still on his second marriage, and Jared his first, although Jared wasn't talking and Gen wasn't in L.A. The harness was awkward and stiff, the straps unfamiliar, and Jensen had bought a pink dildo to go with - not flesh pink, but California pink, pink as a Sunset Strip Cadillac. Wearing it, she felt absurd and oddly self conscious, despite that she and Jensen had done everything bar swing from the chandeliers and she knew it was okay, they were more than comfortable enough to laugh at each other as well as with.
It really didn't help that Jensen was sprawled out comfortably on their bed, grinning at her. "You remembered the lube, right? Tell me you remembered the lube," he said.
"Oh, fuck off," Danneel said crossly, and told him, "Roll over. I can't do you from there."
A year later, Jared manhandles Jensen into place. His knees force Jensen's apart, one hand fastened on his hip, holding his ass high; the other, after the two seconds it takes Jared to force himself home in an elegant, ugly, powerful thrust, between Jensen's shoulderblades, pressing his face down into the pillows. Jensen's hands clench white-knuckled on Danneel's sheets. His back is desperately arched, but not in rejection, and he's shaking. He's never looked like that for Danneel, never, as if nothing mattered but sex.
She was so careful with him. Lube, and more lube, and then the awkward fumbling as she manoeuvred to lie on top of him, weight on one elbow as she watched the dildo slide in. "That all you got, babe?" Jensen had said. She'd have loved to have shut him up, but she wasn't balanced right, her elbow gave, the dildo slipped out, Jensen was laughing too much to stay still...
Jared is neither careful nor gentle.
He can be. In a hotel in DC, Jared will be heart breakingly tender, but that Danneel will never see. She'll catch glimpses, years later, after four pre-printed Christmas cards and two hand written ones and a bouquet of flowers at a first night that matters; a wedding present and an unexpected invitation to a Sunday afternoon barbeque she will, unexpectedly, accept.
She issued an unexpected invitation herself, at a season seven party. "You should come over," she said to Jared. "You should come. He looks... "
"You're shitting me," Jared said. The expression on his face is half heated curiousity, half something she can't name.
With Jared, she'd always felt, with no reason, she had something to prove. At that moment, Danneel wanted him, badly, to see what she saw, when Jensen gave it up for her, sweat slicking his back, when he came for her and her alone. Her husband.
Jared didn't ask if Jensen knew. He said, "Call me."
She did. She called, quietly, him two weeks later, when Jensen was already naked on their bed. Before she put the blindfold on.
It's Jensen, a year later, who will call Danneel to tell her he and Jared are back in L.A. Not together, but, he wants her to know... It's not a conversation she'll ever want to have again.
Conversation is not what Danneel does, in bed. She does dirty, and likes it. "You want me, Jen? Want me fucking you, want me making you take it? You feel my big cock in you? You like that, huh? Bet you'd like someone watching, see you taking it from me? See how pretty you look? You gonna come for me?"
Half way through season seven, Danneel said, almost as a joke, "What if it was Jared - " and Jensen came, pushing back into her, begging for it, an edge to his voice she had never heard before.
It's nothing like the noise he makes when Jared fucks him for the first time. Nothing at all. That noise, it's desolation and love and fear and a utterly abandoned, desperate want.
But it's Jensen coming Danneel was thinking of when she said, "Hey, Jared." She was so deliberately not quite sober at that party, question waiting to happen. She had thought, then, it was no more than the last remnants of a crush, Jensen, Jared. She's no fool. She'd seen them together. "Can I ask you something?"
When Jared arrives, padding quietly up the stairs, shirt and trainers off by the time he gets in the bedroom door, there's nothing left to say. "You should fuck him," she'd said.
Jared comes with his own lube. Strips his sweatpants and boxers in the doorway, lubes his cock with casual expertise. He doesn't even watch himself do do it: he watches Jensen, flat out on the bed, and Danneel watches Jared. Her hips are still working, gently, but she's kneeling up. Holds out a hand. She doesn't know what she's asking, then: join us. Be kind.
But Jared's face. Jared's face...
Danneel will never, has never, doesn't, want Jensen that badly.
She stumbles, getting off the bed. And then Jared is on it.
The bed dips when Jared drops a knee between Jensen's thighs, and Jensen will begin to look up, start to reach a hand to the blindfold, but Jared is quicker. Jared pins her husband down to fuck him and Jensen will love it, and Danneel will replay that first moment over and over again. If Jensen had been quicker. If he'd known. If she'd said no. If she'd never said yes, come over.