rodrikstark's headcanons (part 3)

j. jensen + "i fooled myself into thinking i was enough for you."

you almost don't hear him as you kick a rock halfway across the parking lot. "what?" he launches off the back of your minivan, marching to the main entrance. "jake, come on."

"i'm gonna convince them to let you back in," he barks over his shoulder.

you yank the handle to shut your trunk. he's surprisingly far, and it requires a good jog to catch him. "hey, stop." you spin in front of him, pushing his chest. "we can't embarrass the girls any more than we already have."

the words are meant sincerely, endearingly, but he glowers at them.

your palms drag down his waist, finding their home at his narrow hips. "plus, i don't want you to have to wait out here all alone."

he rolls his eyes. "i'll be fine."

an affectionate squeeze calms him, marginally. "i'm not concerned about your safety, jake, i just don't want you to... wallow."

his shoulders tense. "i don't wallow."

you laugh, nudging his glasses further up the slope of his nose.

finally, he acquiesces, going soft and letting you coax him towards the car. "you'll miss the game."

"it's one game." as you walk him back, arms folded, your mind races to compose a response to what he said before. by the time you look up, he's sitting in the back of your van again, legs dangling. moping.

"you know you're it for me, right?"

he winces. "you look like a real idiot right now, being in love with me."

you stare at the ground.

no. the idiot move was letting yourself sit in that twenty-foot deep pit of despair your ex abandoned you in, after leaving you and your daughter without a shred of regret.

over the last year, jake, and his goofy sense of humor, his affection, his generosity—even his occasional outbursts of over-protectiveness—rescued you from that, brought you light and laughter again.

god, you don't know where you'd be without him.

maybe, still inside that field to watch your girl play goalie. instead of getting ejected for attempting to pull jake off that poor, defenseless guy.

at least it's peaceful out here.

"and you looked like an idiot yelling at that innocent middle school soccer coach." you brace yourself on his knees, kissing his stubborn frown. "we're the same."