thecatinahat | (no subject)

Cougar has the letter in hand in a manila small rectangular envelope. It has no more than 5 words inside with no actual address. Once he arrives at Jake's doorstep, he picks up the package that has the cross-stitch inside, leaning on the porch and buzzing his way inside.

He greets Julie and talks to her a little while he gathers up the courage he's going to need for this conversation, which is far from anything he's ever thought he'd need to do in his life. Once she has to leave, he heads upstairs with both packages in hand, rapping his knuckles on the door.

"Busy?" is all he asks, stepping inside and sitting on the bed.

Jake had been occupying himself with fanning the flames of an argument on Reddit when Cougar arrived, which is why he hadn't bothered to come downstairs to check out who was at the door.

"Oh hey dude," is his distracted reply when his door opens as Cougar slinks through. "I didn't know you even knew where Jules lived."

Still typing one-handed, he absently holds out the other with his fingers curled in towards his palm, angling for a greeting fist-bump as Cougar makes himself comfortable on the bed. "What's up?"

"You gave me the address," is all he says, giving him a hum of a noise, extending first the package with the postage stamps all over it. "Found this on your door." And he'd known it would come today because he's been the one tracking the number and figuring out when it would show up. He gives no fist bump because that is completely against what he's here for.

Both himself and A, neither of them want such a casual greeting.

"What did you get?" he prods, as if he doesn't already know exactly what it looks like.

"Did I?" He doesn't remember doing that, but then again, he and Cougar have become more or less attached at the hip as of late, so it's entirely possible that he did. "Cool. Did you say hi on your way up?"

He's a little miffed that his fist bump is ignored, but then again, he really needs to use both hands to type, so he returns his hand to the keyboard.

"Dunno," he says, sparing half a glance to the packages Cougar's holding out. "Open it," he continues, still mostly focused on his laptop. "Oh, it's probably from my pen pal, he said He'd send me a cross stitch."

"Julie and I talked for a half hour," Cougar replies, because he really does like Jensen's sister. And more than that, if all things go well, he's going to want to get even closer to her because they're going to be family, aren't they? At least, in his very hopeful mind.

He mutters a Spanish curse about how Jake is ignoring all the hard work he'd done, thinking of the months and the pricked thumbs of this. He neatly, cautiously tears it open and draws it out reverently. "This pen pal, you talked about him a little in Bolivia," he mentions, off-hand. "You sound like you really like him."

He laughs. "She must really like you," he jokes. "I'm the motor mouth in this family." Julie is much more reserved than her half-brother, quieter and more serious. She had been quite a bit older when their mom gave them up, and shed become and adult almost immediately. No sixteen year old should have to be an adult like that, Jake can attest to that fact.

It's only when he hears the rustle of papers being ripped away that he finally turns away from his laptop properly. "Lemme see!" he demands, holding out his hand. "Yeah, he's my friend. Probably my best friend, apart from you."

"We understand each other." They're both quiet and reserved and they both have a great love for the man sitting right in front of him. "It looks very nice," he says softly, because it does. He'd spent weeks on this and the final result is beautiful, with the words 'sometimes what you want is right in front of you' woven in amidst patterns and colours.

He rubs his thumb tenderly over the pattern before he has to give it up, knowing it will be hard.

"You going to replace me?" he wonders, as if he doesn't already know how this will go. After all, the manila envelope in his hand proves that.

Jake rolls his chair closer to the bed before giving up and lifting himself out of it to go sit down beside Cougar, reaching for the hoop frame of the cross stitch and holding it reverently in his hands as he looks down at the colorful pattern.

"Holy shit, this is beautiful," he says quietly, carefully tracing the letters of the phrase. It's kind of an odd thing to embroider, and he frowns down at the fabric in his hands. "What do you think he meant? Did it come with a letter?"

Cougar's question gets an offended look. "Please. I never pegged you as insecure."

Cougar sort of wants to know. If there had been an actual other man named A and Jake had to choose between the two of them, would he have lost? It's the sort of thing he doesn't want to linger on, but he doesn't have to, luckily. "There was also this," he says, handing over the manila envelope to Jake as he sits on the edge of the bed, watching him without flinching.

"And not insecure. I just know I could lose you to someone else, if you really feel that deep." He withdraws the envelope from Jake's reach. "Would you leave me?"

Cougar tries to snatch the envelope away, but Jake is taller than he is, and his arms are longer. He just leans over and grabs at the envelope anyway, sending Cougar a dirty glare for trying to keep it from him.

"I can't leave you," he protests. "You're my family."

Jake doesn't talk about it much, but Cougar knows how important that word is to him. His family has been a complete shit show his whole life, abandoning him when he was a child. He decided very young that he'd have to choose his family, if he wanted one. And he's chosen Cougar. They're in it for the long haul.

Cougar lets him have it, settling back at the safe distance he sits from Jake, waiting for him to open it up and understand what Cougar is to him, really. He's known for so long because Jake is so open in his letters. Cougar? He's not. He's never been that able to give himself over and let himself be heard.

"Good," he says firmly, taking off his hat and setting it on the nightstand as he braces himself for Jake opening that letter. "No postage," is what he says of the envelope. "Strange. Your man, local?"

"He's not my man," he protests, fighting the urge to blush. Cougar is so effortless when it comes to romance and his conquests, but Jake feels like an awkward little boy. He hasn't had many relationships at all in his life, and he's certainly never felt torn between two men before.

The envelope, and its lack of postage, gets a confused frown. "I don't think so..."

Carefully, he slides his finger beneath the flap and eases it open, not wanting to rip the paper. He's always careful of his letters, keeping them in his computer case as much as possible so they don't get creased or crumpled.

The letter has one line, in A's looping cursive. My name is Carlos.

He can't help himself, his eyes immediately lift to find Cougar's.

He raises both eyebrows when Jake meets his gaze, trying to ignore the part where his calm is ruined by the fact his heart is pounding in his chest, trying madly to escape given that Cougar is desperately worried that he's been wrong to keep things so quiet, but Bolivia hadn't been good and before that, DADT had also been a problem.

"I thought maybe now was a good time to introduce myself," is his hushed comment. "Especially now that we are out of the Army."

"Are you fucking serious?" he breathes, still staring at Cougar with a slack expression on his face, clutching the paper between both hands.

After a few more seconds, he launches himself to his feet and starts to pace, rubbing a hand over his hair, the other still clutching A's — no, Cougar's — letter. "Are you fucking serious??" He brandishes the letter at him, thrusting it in his face. "How long have you known? That it was me?"

He starts pacing again, feeling a buzzing under his skin, needing to move. "How long have you—" he breaks off, slapping a hand to his face and rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses, his grip crumpling the letter in his free hand.

"And you didn't say anything?"

"You talk about your niece," Cougar reminds him. "Lots." He could guess that it was Jake from the talk of code, from his manner of speech, but he'd known it was him when the details had started to come in about his family and his past and the man he is today. He digs his hands into the edge of the bed, knowing that he's a coward for having held out for so long, but they couldn't have done anything before, not really.

"Couldn't be with you. DADT," he says quietly. "And I told you. I'm broken. I still am broken, worse than ever." His gaze never slips away from Jake, not for a single second. He does eye the paper, though, and the way it's crumpled so easily.

"Of course I fucking—!" he starts at a shout, then immediately cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, continuing in a harsh whisper so he doesn't alert the rest of the house to this drama unfolding. "Of course I fucking talk about her," he hisses, "I love her. She's my family."

It's not that he wants to crumple Cougar's letter, but it's better to crush the letter between his fingers than Cougar's throat.

"I told you everything," he continues, feeling hurt and betrayed and angry for reasons he can't quite fathom. "All those pathetic sob stories about my stupid fucking life, stories about us, stories about them," he gestures towards the door to indicate his sister and niece, "and you never said a word."

He throws the letter at him, watching it hit him in the chest and fall with a sad little whisper to his lap. "I don't give a damn about Don't Ask, Don't Tell!" he continues, forgetting not to shout. "You think I wouldn't have liked knowing I could confide in you without having to write it down first? You weren't the only one who needed help in Bolivia, Cougar! I needed you. You were right there and I spent weeks torturing myself with the assumption that you probably hated me because I disappeared on you and you were right fucking there the whole time!"

Cougar lets Jake lash out without giving away anything on his face. He shuts down so no expression shows because it's not fair to Jake for him to look wounded or upset or anything. Jake's not wrong. He could have told him at any point, but he couldn't because he didn't know how to be that person. Without the letters, Cougar had slipped into a strange half-state where he couldn't really function apart from the doll factory and going home with Jensen.

He hadn't even written a single letter that whole time.

"I like hearing about her," Cougar finally speaks. It's not an accusation that Jake talks about her, only the reminder that it's why he'd figured it out. "And no, no words. I didn't have them. Not good with words," he admits, knowing that Jake's reaction is completely valid. "But now, now I want you to have the truth." Even if it's done nothing but drive a wedge between them, separating them further.

He bends to pick up the letter, blank expression masking the way he feels his chest ache like a heart attack of grief. He folds it, neatly, and pockets it away before he rises to his feet. "You could have still confided in me," is all he says, on his way out. "I was still Cougar, still your best friend." Because Cougar might be bad with words, but Jake isn't -- he never has been.

He can see Cougar shutting down, going into his uber-zen robot mode, and it just makes him angrier. Jake has never been able to shut down, not properly, and it infuriates him that Cougar does it when he himself feels like he's going to explode with feelings.

"You're such a fucking liar," he accuses. "Not good with words. Yes you are! I've kept every single one of your letters, goddammit, I know how good you are with words when you put your mind to it."

Cougar stands, picking up the letter and putting it in his pocket, before he tries to leave. Oh no. Jake is not having that.

"You, sit down," he orders, stepping in front of him and jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "I'm not done with you. You don't get to run away from this. And give me back my letter."

He snatches it from Cougar's pocket, smoothing it out against his chest, and then goes to carefully put it away in the drawer he keeps all the other letters in.

Sitting on the bed, sitting next to him, is too much. So Jake settles down in the computer chair again, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands for a moment before he sits up, scrubbing his palms over his face before letting his hands drop. "No I couldn't," he insists, finally at a normal volume and not half-shouting. "You were falling apart in front of me, Cougs, I was so fucking scared I'd lose you if I even breathed wrong. I couldn't dump my problems on you like that." So he had kept his mouth shut, tried to project 'obnoxious cheerful Jake' as much as possible, and poured his heart out into his notebook late at night when everyone was supposed to be asleep.

"I don't know anything about you," he points out, nearly whispering now. "Without the letters, that is. You never tell us about your family, about your hobbies, nothing. I talk, and talk, and talk, and sometimes you grunt at me, but you don't open up to me. You don't open up to any of us. And in Bolivia... You were a shell of a person. Why didn't you confide in me?" He frowns, looking stricken. He feels startlingly close to tears, and he doesn't like it. "You said you felt like you could tell me anything. Why didn't you?"

"You threw it at me," Cougar replies, irritably, because what was he supposed to think when Jake crumples up his confession and throws it away. He could say so much more, like how letters can take hours if not days and how he can get the right words on the page instead of a conversation. He could point out that his letters had still been brusque and to the point, at times.

Instead, he follows orders and sits back down, raising his brow when Jake keeps the letter. He tries not to let the guilt overwhelm him when Jake talks about how he hadn't felt like he could talk to him, which only gets worse when he brings up that Cougar hadn't told Jake about his personal life, which is true.

"Because I was telling you everything," he points out. "Because when I wrote you letters, I could hide under them and not have to drag out the words," he says, with a gesture that pulls from his core. "English, talking, it's hard for me. Writing? Easier. And when I started to fall for you, I couldn't tell you without you understanding how much I felt."

"Because I'm mad at you!" he points out, throwing up his hands. "You lied to me for god knows how long! I think I can be a little angry right now!"

He's not doing this to hurt Cougar. Watching how unhappy he looks doesn't make him feel good. But it's important that Cougar realize just how upset Jake is by all this deception, how hurt he feels that he never knew that his main confidant had been sleeping across the room from him for years.

"I didn't know it was you! Cougar..." He sighs, pulling his glasses off his face so he can rub his palms over it all the more effectively. "I know English is hard for you. I know. And if it's easier for you to write... You could have still written to me, even if I was in the room with you. I don't want you to become me, talking a mile a minute. I know I'm annoying, I talk too much, words just fall out of my mouth without thought. You don't need to be me. But you like me? You want to make me happy? I need to know how you're feeling. Talk to me. Write me notes. Whatever works. But I need to know."

He knows that he had lied, for his own sake and cowardice. He knows this, and yet he still feels like he doesn't know that he could have done it any other way. After all, he'd been too broken and scared and hadn't ever lied in the letters. He doesn't think he could have been there for Jake, not in the way that he wanted. "Not annoying," he says firmly, which is something he's said in the letters. He's known it was Jake the whole time, so he had written to him like Jake did know it was him.

He had never held back like that. The only difference is that he never talked about it when they were in a room together. "I want you. I love you." He shrugs, like it's the simplest thing in the world to say. "I want you happy. And, it's important for you to know that I'm still broken."

"You want to be happy?" He shakes his head, regretfully. "Not with a broken man like me. You will just cut yourself on my sharp edges, trying to make me better. It's why I'm telling you. You deserve to know," he says quietly. "And I want you, selfishly. But I also want you to move on, be happy."

Jake was about to open his mouth to try and argue with Cougar some more when he drops the L-bomb, and for once in his life, Jake Jensen is found speechless.

He just gapes for a little while, something that has the unfortunate side-effect of allowing Cougar to carry on with his stupid martyr routine, but he's too stupefied by the revelation that Cougar loves him for some godforsaken reason to do anything to cut him off before he builds up enough steam to convince himself to walk away.

"Carlos," he whispers, completely ignoring the idiotic speech Cougar is apparently determined to give. "You're such a fucking idiot, man."

Lurching out of the computer chair, his sudden movement sending it spinning drunkenly out from beneath him, Jake lands with a heavy thump on his knees in front of Cougar, reaching up to grab his hands in both of his and hold on tight. He's forgotten his glasses by his laptop, which means the stare he's giving Cougar is a little unfocused around the edges, but hey, this gives him a great view of Jake's baby blues.

"I'm still mad at you, for the record," he says, but the little smile curling his lips belies that statement, as does the way he lunges forward to press a clumsy kiss to the corner of Cougar's mouth.

How can this be a shock? Cougar is confused, because he'd thought that he'd been extremely clear in his letters and his actions that he values Jake above everyone else. Maybe he should have cross-stitched that into a pattern, because he's not sure how 'I want to take you home to my family' somehow translates to this.

He still thinks that it would be a mistake to do this, but he's shaking a little as he lets Jake wind closer, reaching out to stroke his thumb up and down Jake's cheek when he kneels in front of him. He leans back when Jake lunges up, tugging him with him onto the bed in one smooth little yank.

"Te amo, querido," he exhales against that little chaste kiss, turning to steal a little bit more of one.

But Jake didn't know the letters were Cougar!

Jake lets Cougar yank him up onto the bed with him, a little clumsy and uncoordinated but happy to go along for the ride. Especially when the ride includes more kissing.

He uses his bulk to press Cougar down onto the mattress, pleased beyond measure that his sister's guest room has a queen sized bed and there's no Army-issued barrack bunks in sight, and plants a hand beside his head so he can hold himself up enough to look down at his best friend and confidant. "I can't believe I'm in love with such a moron," he breathes with a little laugh, leaning in to kiss him again. "And people call me stupid."

He makes a noise of objection in the back of his throat to be called a moron and stupid, but his cowardice might be better seen as exactly those things when looked at in this light. He lies flat on the bed and allows Jake to push him down, letting his knees fall apart and his shoulders dig into the bed.

"I meant all the words," he says, grasping Jake by the chin to stop the kisses, for just a moment. "About my family. And you. And how I want to take you to my mother."

He gives him a rueful smile. "I asked you for advice on how to woo you, but you never gave it."