#but just like a week of Jared walking around puffing his chest out…. Jesus be a fence

[sexologii]

apparently Jared won hoh

[impala-dreamer]

The Touch of Your Hand

SPN FanFic

Jared x Reader

2,049 Words

Warnings: Panic Attack.

A/N: This is what I think about when I’m about to snap.

Feedback is GOLD ~ My Masterlist

Jared fit his key into the front door and gave a little push. The portal resisted him, pushing back as the door got stuck on something left in the arc of its swing. He exhaled in annoyance and gave another shove, managing to open the door enough to slip through. When he emerged from the gap, he looked down to find the toe of your snow boot jammed under the door.

With a laugh, he kicked the shoe over towards the closet, shaking his head at your typical forgetfulness. When he looked back up, however, the scene around him was far from typical.

The small living room was cluttered with stuffed animals and baby toys. The long couch held piles of laundry in various states, only half sorted and folded. On the usually pristine hardwood floor, lay a trail of Cheerios from the entertainment center straight back towards the kitchen.

Jared sighed and pressed his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose. However hard his day had been, it appeared that yours had been worse.

A long clang of metal sounded in the kitchen, followed quickly by a slew of expletives, and Jared rushed towards the swinging door.

“Son of a fucking whore!” You turned from the stove and threw the spatula across the room in an explosion of anger, sending it smashing into the wall next to the door just as Jared stuck his head in.

He ducked and looked to you with giant eyes. “Um… Hi, honey; I’m home!” He tried to inject a bit of comedy into his voice, but it quickly faded when he saw the tears welling in your eyes. “Y/N?”

Your chest puffed up with a deep breath and you spun around to hide your face from him. “Hi.” It was all you could muster, and while you were glad that he was home, it did little to fix the shit storm that was your day.

“Rough day?” he asked with a sympathetic smile as he entered the kitchen. Just like the living room, the place was a mess. The sink was piled high with dishes and cups, the island slathered in flour and bowls; a sprinkling of red and green sugar coated the tile floor. The oven door was ajar, and a deep acrid stench wafted out from inside.

“It was fine,” you lied and wiped your eyes, turning to greet him with a forced smile.

“Looks it,” he said under his breath, eyes darting about the room.

You knew he meant nothing by it, but his comment ripped through you like a knife to your heart. Your chin quivered with the promise of tears, and you clenched your jaw to steady it. Your fists tightened at your sides and you closed your eyes, fighting the wave of aggravation that pushed and pulled at your insides.

After a moment, you felt him at your side, and Jared lay a firm hand on your shoulder. “What happened?”

You shrugged his hand away and walked to the door to retrieve your spatula, ignoring his question. As you bent to pick it up, you cleared your throat and tried to veer the conversation away from you. “How was your day?” You forced a smile as you turned back to him, but your eyes gave away the lie.

Jared nodded, understanding your reluctance to talk, and gave you a little shrug. “It was alright. Jay got hurt doing the fight scene, but otherwise it was uneventful.”

Panic turned in your stomach. “What? Is he OK?”

Jared crossed his arms and leaned back against the messy counter. “Yeah, he’s fine; just rolled funny when he went down and tweaked his back a bit.”

“Huh, well, I’m glad he’s OK,” you said softly and turned to busy your hands with the mess on the island. Your phone buzzed loudly from your pocket and your shoulders tensed at the sound. “Jesus Christ, five fucking minutes, that’s all I ask,” you mumbled and pulled it out to silence the alert.

“Busy day at work?”

“Ya think?” you snapped as your eyes scrolled through a message from your boss, needing some pointless bit of information immediately, even though you’d been off the clock for three hours.

“Y/N/N…”

You set the phone down and looked up to see bright hazel eyes staring at you in concern. Jared dipped his chin and waited for you to reply, clearly not going to let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry, Jare,” you sighed. “Did you eat? I was making pancakes…” Your phone buzzed again and your eye twitched.

Jared smiled and looked over his shoulder at the ruined cake on the griddle. “Breakfast for dinner. My favorite.”

It was not his favorite, you knew, and guilt settled like a rock in your gut. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was going to make the ribs we picked up the other day, but they didn’t smell right, but I put them in anyway, but the pie gunk on the bottom of the oven started burning because I never had a chance to clean it up, because I suck…” Words tumbled from your mouth in a rolling rant that had no beginning or end. “…and then whole kitchen started filling with smoke, and the alarm went off. Which woke Mickey up from his nap, and he started screaming and I couldn’t get to him because I was trying to shut off the alarm, but I couldn’t reach the damn thing, and he got so upset he threw up all over himself. And the playpen, and the floor, and me when I picked him up. So then he needed a bath and my phone hasn’t stopped ringing for like, ever, and everyone fucking needs something from me and I just don’t know how to help anyone. Lindsey has called me four times about her boyfriend and they’re in some kind of fight, but what do you want me to do? And my mother… Goddamn it, it’s like nonstop with her! ‘What’s happening for Christmas?’ ‘What time are we eating?’ ‘When is your flight?’… It’s three weeks away, we don’t have to do this right now!” You had more, but ringing from both your cell and the landline cut you off and you let out a shriek through clenched teeth. “Why!”

Jared, who had been silently observing you from across the room, now rushed to your side and set his hands on your upper arms. You tried to push him away, but he held tight, and you screwed your eyes shut against his comfort.

“I just can’t fucking do this anymore!” You panted; your breath picking up speed with each passing second. Your heart was racing, fireworks crackling in your head. “I can’t! I can’t do anything! Everyone needs something, but I have nothing. There’s nothing left! I’m done. I can’t!” Your shoulders began to shake, burdened by the weight of life; your responsibilities, both real and imagined, pushing down on you like anvils. “I can't…” you said again and again in gasping breaths as your head began to feel fuzzy.

“Hey! Hey, hey…” Jared’s fingers pressed into your arms, but you could barely feel them. His voice was steady and soothing in its depth, but your heavy breaths blocked his words. “Relax, Baby. It’s ok.” He pulled you forward, trying to force you into a hug, but you pulled back, fighting him as you hyperventilated; your chest tightening, throat closing in.

“I…can’t…I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he told you quickly and finally managed to pull you against his chest. He was hot and sweaty and all the things you loved, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Your eyes twitched back and forth as your mouth gaped for air, but Jared held you tight.

“You need to breathe, Y/N/N. Come on…”

You shook your head and looked up at him, suddenly unable to remember how. You couldn’t move, yet your muscles were twitching; couldn’t think, yet your mind raced. Tears fell from your open eyes and dripped like salted rain into your mouth.

Jared bent down, pressed his forehead to yours and closed his left hand around the back of your neck.

“Take a breath, Y/N. Deep breath.”

You shook your head again as white lit the edges of your vision.

“Do it,” he said firmly. “Deep breath.”

Somehow, your chest rose as the air flowed in, and Jared’s fingers tightened at the nape of your neck. “Now let it out,” he whispered, and you did, oblivious to the absurdity of your husband needing to instruct you on how to breathe. It helped, though, and once the air was gone, you pulled in more through your nose, and let it seep out from between your lips. “That’s good, Baby,” Jared said with a faint smile. “That’s good. Keep breathing.”

As soon as you started to relax, another tidal wave of panic slammed into you. Your body tensed and you struggled to pull away.

“Jared, please!” There was no real question, nothing you were asking for other than help, but he knew what you needed.

“You feel my hand?” he asked as he pressed a little harder on your neck. “Do you feel me?”

You nodded, biting your lip to stop from shouting.

“Say it, tell me you feel me.”

“I…” Your voice cracked, your throat so tight it was hard to speak. “Yes.” It was a tiny whisper, but it was there.

Jared closed his eyes in a moment of relief and pressed on. “My fingers, do you feel them?” Lightly, he pressed down against your skin, each finger in turn. “Focus on my fingers.” One by one they pulsed on your neck and you set your mind upon their movements, trying to map their journey. “Do you feel them?”

“Yes,” you sighed as your throat relaxed.

“My hand, do you feel it? Can you feel my palm? The base of my fingers and the heel of my hand? Can you feel it?”

You swallowed and took a slow breath. “Yes.” With the word, you felt your shoulders drop and you kept your mind on the comforting pressure of his hand.

Jared felt you relax and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before leaning back down. “That’s good, Y/N.” He kept his hand in place, his fingers dancing in alternating firmness. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” From the top of your head, straight down to your toes, every muscle released its tension and you breathed deep and steady.

“Listen to me,” he said gently. “You are an amazing person. You give and give and never ask for anything. But you don’t have to give until you are empty.”

You opened your eyes at last and lifted your chin to look into his.

“I love you. I don’t care what the house looks like, or if the oven goes up in flames. I don’t care of there’s baby puke and cereal all over the living room.” He paused and your lips turned upwards at his little joke. “I love you,” he went on, his voice filled with sincerity and love. “Let me help you. You’re not alone in this. This is our life. Our fight. Do you hear me?”

You stared up at your gorgeous husband, wondering how on earth you had ever talked him into falling in love with someone like you. He was brimming with light and love, pure and true, and somehow, by some miracle, it was all focused on you. You were a wreck from the day you’d met, but he saw passed it all. Even when his own light was dimming, he could bring you back from the edge with the touch of his hand.

Jared tilted his head and smiled sweetly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, I asked you a question.”

You laughed and nodded, still locked into those incredible eyes. “Yes, I hear you.”

His kiss was gentle but full, and you crashed in his arms, exhausted but somehow renewed.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Love you more,” he teased and gave you a final squeeze. “Now, can we order a pizza, please? I’m starving.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, tossing him your phone. “Yes.”

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