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Silver Star, CWrpf, JA/JDM, NC-17, 2/2
Part 1
Jensen got that Jared had a protective streak a mile wide, and that being stuck in a bed wasn't helping with anything, but there were days when he could cheerfully strangle the guy, and getting hit with What the hell do you think you're doing? two seconds after he walked in the door was a little bit much.
"Really glad we didn't stop for coffee on the way over," he muttered as Morgan passed him. "He's wired enough as it is."
"Oh, for fuck's--you know what?" Jared demanded. "Anybody who agrees to such a monumentally stupid idea like using himself as bait does not get to comment on whether I do or do not need to calm down."
Jensen couldn't help rolling his eyes--which tended to really piss Jared off--and crossed his arms. "Jared--look, this is my new bestest buddy, Sergeant Morgan, of the Texas Rangers, okay? With me 24/7. Suspects everybody, including you, me, and Dani."
"Yeah?" Jared glared at Jensen, then over at Morgan, who nodded. "Well. Good." Jared laid his head back against the pillow and took a deep breath or two. "I still don't like it."
"I don't either," Morgan said, low and serious. Implacable, Jensen thought. "But I'm working with it."
"Jared," Jensen said. "We can't--I can't go and hide away here, for however long it's going to take them to figure this out. The company--Jay, come on, we can't take the hit of both of us being out of commission."
"It's not worth it," Jared said, stubborn to the end. Morgan stood off to the side watching with that particular intensity that Jensen knew meant he was cataloging and analyzing every word.
"Really?" Jensen asked. "It's not worth everything it took to get here? Every crap job you worked to get through school, all the strip malls out there with my name on the blueprints? Every sleaze who told Dani she'd be perfect for the job as long as she loosened up and wore her skirts a little shorter?"
"Speaking of Dani," Jared said, conversationally, which was never a good sign, Jensen knew. "She know about this?"
Jensen sighed. "Jare--"
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jared crossed his arms and glared again. "It's not going to make a damn bit of difference to you whether we have a company after this is over, because she is going to fucking rip your head off when she finds out."
"You think I like this?" Jensen snapped. "Lying to everybody I know but you? Because if you think I'm having a good time here, we have a hell of a lot more serious issues than how big of a fit Dani's gonna throw when this comes out."
"No," Jared sighed. "I know you don't, but…" He gestured down at the cast on his leg. "I just--you know I can't deal with being down like this."
"I know." Jensen sat on the edge of the bed, moving as carefully as he could. "You have to chill, man. Focus on getting better. Kane's gonna come give us a hand on the ramp up for the hospital atrium--"
"But you're covering Riverwalk." Jared sounded resigned. "Even after this."
"C'mon, Jay," Jensen said, shrugging helplessly. "I can't let anybody else go into that, not after everything that's gone down. And we're not letting it go, okay? We're not letting this son of a bitch shut us down, no matter how much it costs."
Jared looked at him for a long couple of seconds, but finally shook his head, and if he wasn't smiling, he was at least not yelling. "Kane, huh? Don't be letting him near my truck, you hear? I mean, here I was, thinking the only bright spot of all this is that it was your crappy old truck that got totaled, and now I have to worry about him getting his paws all over my GPS…"
"You think Dani's going to let him drive hers?" Jensen said, pretending a nonchalance he knew Jared could see right through. Jared wouldn't call him on it, though.
"Well, since she's the one who's always telling me that it's not really my truck, that it belongs to the corporation and I have to share, I'm thinking the same thing applies to the one she likes."
"It's usually easier to let the two of them fight over the newer trucks," Jensen said, to Morgan. "So the old one is mine, and Jared drives the tricked-out one, and Dani takes the extended cab, because she usually ends up taking clients out to job sites."
Morgan nodded, but he had that look, the one that Jensen already knew meant he was filing things away. He was surprised Morgan hadn't pulled out a damned index card and a pencil.
"But you weren't driving that one Wednesday?" Morgan asked.
"Nah, it needed an oil change and I didn't have time to wait around for it." Jared shrugged. "I grabbed the old one; I mean, they're all fine, I just like the bigger one. Little more space, you know? We joke about it, but really, we all drive whatever's around when we need to go out to a site. Jen spends more time in the office, so we stick him with whatever's left."
Morgan nodded again, but didn't say anything, letting Jensen fill Jared in on how they were going to get everything done in a little more detail. Jared had a couple of suggestions, but Jensen could tell it was stressing him out, to the point that he was almost rude to the tech who came in to check his blood pressure and pulse.
"Jay," Jensen said, after she was gone. "I know this is weird, but..."
"Yeah," Jared said. "I know. I'm trying; it's just..."
"Weird," Jensen repeated, in unison with him, and grinned. Jared smiled back, at something considerably less than his usual mega-watt smile, and Jensen cast about for something to talk about that wasn't going to give Jared any more ammunition to beat himself up with. "Speaking of weird," he said. "Morgan and I walked in on Weatherly, of all people, trying to convince Dani to let him help out."
It was a good distraction; Jared sat up and stared. "Michael Weatherly, Mr. I-don't-understand-how-you-can-waste-your-time-with-such-inferior-beings, wanted to help?"
"That's what he said." Jensen pointed at Morgan, who nodded. "In front of witnesses and all."
"Dude." Jared shook his head. "That's not weird; that's Bizarro World."
"Tell me about it," Jensen said.
"You sure he wasn't there to get his hands on next year's proposals, so he'd know how much to underbid us by?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Jensen answered. "Whatever--Dani wasn't letting him past the lobby even before we showed up."
"Man, that's still freaky."
Jensen started to answer, but Jared laid his head back against the bed and closed his eyes, looking suddenly worn out, so he stood up instead, nodding toward the door. Morgan nodded back, and stepped outside.
"We're gonna take off, Jay," Jensen said. "You look wiped."
"Hate the drugs," Jared breathed. "Can't think for more than ten minutes at a time."
"You just woke up yesterday," Jensen said, easing toward the door. "Give it a little time."
Jared nodded, not opening his eyes. "Misha came by," he said, his voice about as neutral as it ever got, which meant he must really have been feeling the pull of the drugs.
"Yeah," Jensen sighed. "He came by my place afterward."
"Jen," Jared said, opening his eyes but not moving his head. "You know I really like Misha. He's a great guy--except..."
"Yeah," Jensen said. "Except for the part where he's married, and I'm apparently not built for poly like they are, and no, that doesn't make them bad people, or me a prude, it just means I'm shit out of luck here. Did I miss anything?"
"Listen, I know it's your life, and you’re a grown man, and I'm the last person to be giving advice, but I'm stuck in here," Jared said. "Don't make me call in the big guns. You know I'll figure out how to make that PG enough to sic Mac on you."
"I'm good, Jay." Jensen kept everything as low-key as he could, even without the threat of little sisters who thought they knew everything on the table, because Jared didn't need to be taking any attention away from getting better. "Misha came by to make sure I was okay. One night, and he's back out doing his thing, and you need to rest."
Jared still had that stubborn glint in his eyes, so Jensen added, "Don't make me call in the big guns, because I've seen your charge nurse in action."
"Yeah, go on, threaten the guy in the cast." Jared's smile was dimmed, but still impossible to resist. "Real hero, aren't you?"
"I'll come back by later," Jensen said, and closed the door quietly on Jared's nod.
Morgan looked like he was giving the cop on duty outside Jared's room a pep talk, but he broke away as soon as he saw Jensen and they fell into step together.
"So," Jensen said. "That's Jared."
"Pretty young," Morgan said, as they reached the elevators.
"Yeah," Jensen sighed. "A lot of people thought I was nuts, going in with him instead of somebody with more experience, but we… clicked. I don't know--it's, we work hard, harder than I ever expected, but…"
"It works," Morgan said, like he knew exactly what Jensen was saying, all the layers and meanings.
"Yeah," Jensen said. There was a soft ding as the elevator stopped on their floor and the doors opened. "It does."
Even on a Sunday morning, there were people in the elevator, men and women in scrubs, a little boy holding on tight to a balloon with one hand and his grandmother's hand with the other, his t-shirt proclaiming I'm the Big Brother, so Jensen waited until they were back down in the parking garage and walking to Morgan's Bronco, just the two of them, before he finished.
"What I said back there, in Jared's room," he said, and Morgan turned to face him. "I'm not letting some random asshole ruin that. It's one thing if we go under because of something we did--I get too ambitious or Jay doesn't run the sites well enough or Dani underbids a project and we can't turn a profit--that happens all the time, it's a killer business. But this isn't that. It isn't even dealing with the crooked shit that's always out there. This is--this is--"
"Wrong," Morgan said, in little more than a growl. "It's some little shit who can't show his face and thinks he's getting away with whatever he wants, and it's wrong."
"Yeah," Jensen said, swallowing hard. "It is. Thanks. I know this is your job and all, but thank you for getting that--"
The Bronco wasn't far from the elevators, only around the bend in the parking garage, and Jensen hadn't exactly been paying attention as they walked, too intent on everything he'd been keeping bottled up inside, so the pickup that came flying down the ramp from the upper level took him by surprise. It was taking the corner a little wide, but Jensen was a step too far away from the parked cars, so it took him a split second to realize that even though he'd automatically stepped back, out of the traffic lane, the truck wasn't doing the same, but was actually following him.
Jensen stumbled sideways, slamming hard up against the back of a van, and there was no place left to go. His momentum was forward and sideways; he knew he wasn't going to make it, knew that the truck was going to pin him against the van, even before his feet slipped out from under him as he tried to throw himself backward, away from the truck. He had a wild thought that maybe, if he hit the ground perfectly right, he might be able to roll part of the way under the van, but then he was being jerked backward, far enough that when the truck scraped along the edge of the van, it missed Jensen by an inch.
Jensen fell awkwardly, tangled up in somebody else, hitting the concrete hard enough to knock the rest of his breath out of his body. The truck tore off with a final screech of tires, and Jensen came back into his body with a jolt, aware that he was sprawled on the ground, half on somebody else, so that there was a knee in his back. Slowly, like he was moving through water, he managed to drag himself up into a sitting position.
"Jensen," a voice--Jeff, Jensen thought, placing it finally, Jeff Morgan--was saying. "Jensen."
"Yeah," Jensen said. "I'm okay." He took a breath, and then another, and yeah, he was okay, nothing broken, nothing worse than maybe a couple of bruises. He repeated himself, to be sure. "I'm okay."
He turned around enough to make eye contact with Jeff, nodding slightly, and then put his head down between his knees. Jeff laid his hand on the back of Jensen's neck, warm and steady. Jensen stayed where he was, breathing as evenly as he could, and listened to Jeff call everything in.
He sounded pissed, Jensen thought, as he snapped out a quick summary of where they were and what had happened in a coldly furious voice. Jensen wasn't particularly surprised to hear that he'd kept his head enough to have gotten a partial license plate number on the truck. Jensen didn't have anything to add, at least until he heard Jeff say that they'd be heading to the ER, just to be on the safe side.
"No," Jensen said, lifting his head. "I told you, I'm okay."
"You need to get checked out--"
"There's no time," Jensen said. "I need to be at this fundraiser; Dani could only stay for a little while, and they're expecting us to be a presence." He stood up, and his legs didn't do anything stupid like go out from under him or anything, so he squared his shoulders and dusted himself off. "I am not letting this son of a bitch win. Not even on something like this."
He met Jeff's eyes and said it again, "I'm not letting him win."
Jeff gave it his best glare, but Jensen met him straight-up, not giving an inch, and Jeff knew he wasn't going to get any support from official channels, not with them being the ones who thought up this idiotic scenario in the first place.
"Fine," Jeff bit out. "We'll do it your way, but the first hint of anything not right and we'll be out of there so fast you won't know what fucking hit you."
"Great," Jensen muttered. "It'll be a theme."
Jeff pretended like he hadn't heard, going back to finish off the call to his Austin PD contact while they drove back to the condo, and then starting the whole thing over again with his lieutenant while Jensen changed. Jeff's suit wasn't in great shape, but it would have to do. Jensen put the address they needed to be at straight into the GPS without saying a word, and Jeff followed the directions equally quietly.
"Thank you," Jensen said, after a couple of miles of nothing but the automated voice of the GPS to break the silence. "I didn't think I--that was close."
"You're welcome," Jeff answered, shoving down the replay of that endless second before he could get a grip in the back of Jensen's shirt. "And yeah, too fucking close. Are you sure--"
"I'm fine," Jensen said. "I mean, I've probably got a dent in my back that matches up to your knee, and I slammed my elbow pretty good, but that's it."
"Yeah, you say that now," Jeff said. Jensen shot him an annoyed look; Jeff didn't bother to hide his grin. "Once that adrenaline wears off, you'll be lucky if you even remember your back and elbow." Underneath it all, though, Jeff could admit, at least to himself, that he goddamned well liked the idea of whoever was doing this getting no satisfaction from forcing Jensen out of his life.
"Before we get to this shindig," Jeff said. "Something Jared said--it started me thinking, and the, uh, incident in the parking garage hasn't changed anything, but, how often do you drive the truck Jared rolled?"
"Pretty often," Jensen said, quietly. "I hardly ever take any of the others."
"Would you have had reason to have been out on that construction site?"
"I didn't, but it wouldn't be all that unusual for me to go out there."
"So, what I'm left with is that somebody took out Jared in the middle of the night, in a vehicle that you're almost always seen driving. Add that to them having to know who they were aiming at today, and I don't like the way the chips are falling."
"I'm not real wild about it either," Jensen said. "Jared got a good number of calls, though. Some to his private number, same as me."
"Yeah," Jeff said. "I'm not saying I'm on the right track, I'm just saying it's something that's sticking out when I look at everything."
"And you don't like things that stick out," Jensen said.
"I do not," Jeff agreed. "Hate them all--anomalies. Breaks in a pattern. Weird shit. Like your buddy Weatherly."
"Michael and I were a lot of things, but buddies isn't even close." Jensen laid his head back against the seat. Jeff wondered if the adrenaline was fading already. "You don't think he has anything to do with any of this?"
"I think whoever this is knows you." Jeff said it straight-up and matter-of-fact. "They know your company vehicles. They knew where you were this morning."
"Yeah," Jensen said. "I hadn't missed that part either."
Jeff made the final turn in the directions, into what turned out to be the front entrance to a country club and politely declined the valet parking. "Sorry," he said, as the kid parking cars waved him off to some lower parking area. "Too much ordinance in the back to be letting anyone in this thing."
Jensen snorted, and shook his head. "Just thinking how I used to hate riding around with my cousins, all pick-up trucks and gun racks," he said when Jeff cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Sometimes the universe has a really odd sense of humor," Jeff answered.
"I guess," Jensen said, eyeing the hill back up to the front door with something less than enthusiasm, but when Jeff was about to offer a quick trip to the ER again, Jensen gave him that look that said not to bother. "Everything's gone stiff anyway; at least this gives me a couple hundred feet to loosen up before I have to put on my company manners."
Jeff nodded and hauled himself out of the Bronco, his own muscles complaining from the inactivity on the drive over as well. He tried to settle on some kind of a neutral expression that would let him get away with spending the next few hours in polite society.
"Did I mention there's always lots of alcohol at these things?" Jensen said, as though he could read Jeff's mind.
"Good to know," Jeff said. "Except for that part where they frown on that kind of thing. Rangers drinking on duty."
"Guess you'll have to console yourself with the quiche then," Jensen answered, with an echo of what might, on a less crazy day, have been an evil smirk. "They don't fine you guys for that kind of thing, do they?"
"Smart ass," Jeff said, but under his breath, because they were back up to the front door and there was already a woman in a silk suit and pearls calling out to Jensen. Jeff took that as a cue and did his best to stay out of the picture. It turned out to be fairly easy--there was an actual bar where Jeff could stay, not just a table set up to serve the alcohol--but mostly, though, he could fade out because Jensen was the golden-boy star of the show. Jeff sat with a never-ending club soda and a twist and watched Jensen charm everyone who approached him.
It was a hell of an act, but Jeff could still tell it was a show, and an exhausting one at that. He wasn't surprised when Jensen showed up two hours into the whole deal and dropped into the seat next to him, just caught the bartender's eye.
"Whatever he's drinking," Jensen said, motioning toward Jeff. "It's not alcoholic, right? Because the way I feel right now, one drink might put me under."
"Nah, you're good." Jeff felt around in his pockets and pulled out a couple of single-dose packs of ibuprofen. "Here, see if that helps," he said, and tried not to wince when Jensen swallowed them dry.
"Thanks," Jensen mumbled, draining the glass the bartender put in front of him in a single long swallow. "There's still another hour on the silent auction before we can get out of here." He nodded to the bartender for a refill, and one for Jeff, too.
"Who are you, by the way," Jensen said, quietly. "So I don't contradict the story."
"Nobody's asked," Jeff said. "And I'm not really trying to make conversation. The bartender saw me walk in with you, and I doubt anybody else has noticed."
Jensen looked at him, sharp and questioning. "That doesn't bother yo--"
"Jensen!" A woman's voice cut through the noise of the crowd in the other room.
"Oh, shit," Jensen breathed, even as he was standing up and pasting a smile on his face.
Jeff stood, too, and turned to see yet another perfectly-groomed woman in a suit and pearls bearing down on them, which was about as routine as it got for this particular event, at least until Jensen leaned down so she could kiss him on the cheek and said, "Hi, Mom. I didn't know you were driving down for this."
"Well, of course, I was driving down, darling." She reached up and took care of an imaginary smear of lipstick on his cheek. "You know I'm on the board."
"Of course," Jensen echoed, in a perfect deadpan, before he took a deep breath and turned to Jeff. "Mom, this is Jeff Morgan. Jeff, my mother, Donna Ackles."
"Mr. Morgan," she said, cool and collected, holding out her hand with exquisite poise and dismissing him completely in the same motion. Jeff had to admire the style.
"Ma'am," Jeff answered, taking her hand and keeping a straight face, as though he hadn't noticed he'd just been bitchslapped into next week. Jensen looked resigned, like he knew there was no point in saying anything, which bothered Jeff a whole lot more. He let a little of the stone-face slip into a smirk, one that slid into more of a genuine smile when he saw Jensen's shoulders relax a fraction.
He wrenched his attention back to the conversation, but it was proceeding quite nicely without him, Jensen's mother almost a completely different woman as she asked about Jared and whether he would be up to receiving visitors. She edged back into the glacial tone when Jensen asked if she'd been making calls--Of course I've been making calls, Jensen; don't pretend naïvete. I know that you understand perfectly well how to make things happen most effectively.
Despite the wild swings in temperature, to Jeff's eye, it looked as though Jensen was holding his own, but then the playing field reversed when she reached into her purse and took out a small package, wrapped in tasteful, pastel paper, holding it out until Jensen took it, handling it as though it were a bomb as he leaned down to let her kiss him good-bye.
Jeff shouldn't have been surprised to be included in a polite, if cool, farewell--good manners would, of course, dictate that--but the reaction to the incident in the parking garage was settling in and he was a little slow on the uptake. Jensen stood next to him, turning the little package over and over in his hands, his face blank.
"I, ah, wasn't paying real close attention there--" Jeff started, and Jensen snorted.
"Best move you've made all day, and that includes pulling me out from under that damn truck."
Jeff hesitated, but finished his thought, as quietly as he could. "What is that?" he asked.
"This?" Jensen held out the box. "This is for an old friend, one who happens to be the only woman I ever took home to meet the family, even though we both knew it was because I was too freaking scared to tell them the truth." He stopped and took a long, slow breath. "She's married now, just had her second baby, and this would be a subtle reminder of all the things my 'lifestyle' is keeping me from."
Jeff stayed quiet, and Jensen finally sighed and met his eyes.
"Or, it's just that my mother is a stickler for the social niceties and she wanted to send a little something for the baby. She knows we keep in touch." Jensen said it like he couldn't really bring himself to believe it, but even putting the possibility out there was some sort of progress.
"Maybe a little of both," Jeff offered, thinking about the extremes in the conversation.
"Yeah," Jensen said. "Maybe."
Luckily, Jensen could deal with the rest of the afternoon on autopilot. He could feel Jeff's eyes on him, as though the other man was gauging exactly how long it was going to take before he totally lost it, but Jensen had his eye on the prize--getting the hell out without anyone the wiser to the day's dramas--and whatever other issues he had, he could focus when he needed to.
The only time he even had to engage his brain was running into Tom and Jamie on the way out. Everyone had heard about Jared's accident and wanted to know how he was doing, but most of the conversations Jensen had had were little more than fishing expeditions, everyone wanting the gossip scoop. Tommy, on the other hand, knew them both, had worked with Jared back in the day, and deserved more than the standard line Jensen had been feeding people. In some ways, it sucked worse, having to skim around the truth with people who actually cared about Jared, but at least Jensen knew they were asking because they cared.
"We won't keep you," Tom said, once Jensen had assured him that Jared, while banged up and likely to be riding the bench for a while, was going to be fine. "I meant what I said, though--both on your voicemail and to Dani. You need anything, call."
"Of course," Jensen said. He was acutely aware of Jeff in the background, and of the curious looks Jamie was giving the two of them, but Tom had her by the elbow and got her away before she could actually say the Jensen, you've been holding out on us--how long have you been seeing each other? Jensen could see in her eyes. The last thing he felt like doing was adding to the lies he was already throwing out there.
Of course, when he looked at Jeff on their way back to the Bronco, it was the cop looking back at him--and at Tom and Jamie, assessing them and the conversation--and it slammed home the point, yet again, of how fucked up this whole situation was.
"That doesn't bother you?" Jensen sounded like a petulant child even to his own ears, but somewhere in this entire clusterfuck, he'd lost the ability to care. "Tossing out one lie after another? That was Tom and Jamie Welling, by the way. Tom's in the business, too; Jamie…I don't exactly know what Jamie does. You'll have to check that one out yourself."
Jeff took his time answering, unlocking the Bronco and swinging up into the driver's seat before he said, "That's not the question you really want to ask, but, yeah. It bugs the shit out of me, not being truthful." He waited until they were back out on the road to add, "It bugs me a hell of a lot more to see a kid like Jared getting cut out of his truck and airlifted into surgery because somebody thought the rules didn't apply to them."
Jensen could practically feel the fury in his voice, like how he'd sounded earlier, in the hospital parking garage, with Jensen on the ground next to him, but it didn't do anything to settle the knots twisting Jensen up. If anything, it twisted them tighter, like a lecture that left Jensen feeling like a silly, naïve kid, whining about how unfair life was.
Jeff didn't bother asking, just pulled into the first McDonald's he saw, and Jensen unclenched his jaw long enough to put an order in for a combo meal he knew was going straight into the trash as soon as he got home. Jeff followed him silently, still radiating that icy control. Jensen itched to shatter it.
Instead, he swallowed a couple more ibuprofen and booted up his workstation. If he had to spend his weekdays out on job sites, he was going to have to figure out some way to finish off the stuff he had in process, too. Sitting down and thinking through specs for a project usually was one of his failsafes, the reason he did what he did. Dani would shove him off to do exactly that when he was making her crazy at the office, but whatever equanimity he found evaporated as soon as his cell rang, and the caller ID showed up as blocked.
"Answer it on speaker," Jeff said, his voice smooth and calm, nothing like the intensity in his eyes. Jensen took a deep breath and nodded, thumbing the phone on--and then shook his head when Mackenzie's voice came blasting out at him.
"I knew I should have come down with Mom, but I figured you'd be your usual nose-to-the-grindstone genius self and I wouldn't get to see enough of you to balance out six hours in a car."
"My little sister," he murmured to Jeff, reaching for the phone. Jeff smiled a little and started to leave the room, but not before Mac said, "She said you were there for a while, though, and that you were there with a guy, an older guy, and you are totally holding out on me, aren't you?"
"Mac--"
"Look, I know it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to tell them, and I get why you don't live here now, but I thought you knew I was okay with you being ga--"
"Mac!" Jensen couldn't look up, but there was no way Jeff hadn't heard everything. "It's not what you're thinking, okay? I love you, but I'll call you back later."
Jensen hung up before she could say anything else, and sent his calls straight to voicemail. Jeff had only made it as far as the kitchen; he stopped half-turned back toward him when Jensen dropped the phone on the table.
"She sounds…"
"Like the cheerleader she is," Jensen sighed.
"I was going to say like she cares," Jeff said. "But I'll go on record as saying I'm not surprised she's a cheerleader."
The silence that fell was more like it had been earlier.
"That doesn't bother you?" Jensen probably should keep his mouth shut, because at least the tension had broken, but the words were out before he could apply what was left of his common sense. "She just assumed… She's not the only one"
Jeff did him the favor of not pretending like he didn't understand. "No more than it would if it was Dani I was shadowing."
Jensen looked at him for a long time, Jeff looking back strong and direct, no bullshit, no pretense. It was Jensen who dropped his eyes first. He fumbled his phone back into his pocket and stood up.
"More work?" Jeff sounded vaguely disapproving, as though Jared had somehow rubbed off on him in the short time they'd met.
"I should," Jensen answered. "But that thing you said earlier, about how I only thought I was okay…? I mean, I'm fine," he said quickly, because he could see Jeff gathering for another ER, NOW pronouncement. "But… Judging from all the places that hurt, I think I must have bounced a couple of times when you grabbed me."
"I'd say I'd be more careful next time," Jeff said. "But I'm working on there not being a next time."
"You're not going to get an argument on that from me." Jensen thought he'd boxed things up pretty neatly in his mind--he'd managed to get through the entire day without drinking himself into oblivion, after all--but he could feel the walls he'd built starting to waver. "I'm going to shower," he said, as much to set a plan for himself as to communicate with Jeff. "Probably just crash after that."
"Good." Jeff nodded. "You'd be surprised how much sleep helps."
"I'm prepared to be amazed," Jensen said, shutting everything down and tidying his desk. Jeff looked settled in at the table in the dining area, papers strewn everywhere and laptop open. Jensen tried not to think about how right that felt.
Jeff more or less gave up on getting anything that resembled quality sleep when his cell rang at midnight with a call from the analysts to tell him they were emailing a list of names, people who had vehicles registered that matched on the partial license plate number Jeff had called in. If he was smart, he told himself, he'd leave combing through the list of names and makes and models for somebody with fresh eyes and a non-fogged brain, but there was no way he was going to be sleeping, not knowing that the list was sitting there waiting for him.
He had no idea what the deal was with the coffee maker in Jensen's kitchen, but he found a stash of Red Bull in the refrigerator and that fit his mood more than coffee did anyway. He'd managed to get three numbers and the general body type and color; the list they emailed him had already been broken out by make and model, with everything not a truck or on the lighter end of the color spectrum held in reserve. Anything registered in the general area was flagged highest, but, like the email said, that was just so they'd have someplace to start.
Jeff traded in his dress shirt and slacks for track pants and a t-shirt and dug in.
He was still there two hours later when the door to the master suite opened and Jensen stumbled out, wearing only sleep pants and a thin t-shirt. He jerked to a stop when he realized Jeff was there, before making it the rest of the way into the kitchen and filling a glass with water.
"Rough night," Jeff said, not exactly a question.
"I see that damn truck every time I close my eyes," Jensen admitted, drinking the water quickly and refilling it. "What are you doing?"
"Presents from the analysts." Jeff turned his laptop to show him the list of names and makes and models, and Jensen nodded slowly.
"They're still working on it, focusing on the ones registered around here," Jeff said. "Do you recognize anyone?"
Jensen stared at the screen, hard enough that Jeff figured everything had to be blurring together.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know--should I?"
Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not, but it's not something we can afford not to look at."
Jensen nodded again, not moving away from where he stood next to Jeff, close enough that Jeff could feel the warmth of his skin.
"At two in the morning?"
"They're good--the support staff we have," Jeff said. "They're smart and dedicated--"
"Yeah, I guess, since this came in in the middle of a Sunday night," Jensen said.
"But, it's just another case to them," Jeff said. He pushed back from the table, a little appalled that he'd just said what he'd said, and needing to get a little space, but Jensen moved with him, and Jeff couldn't not look at him, no matter how much he was giving away.
"Jeff," Jensen breathed, his hand coming up to wrap around Jeff's arm. Jeff went as still as he could, hardly able to breathe with everything he was seeing in Jensen's eyes. Jensen dropped his eyes, finally, broke the connection, but Jeff still couldn't make himself move, because Jensen had shifted his grip on Jeff's arm so his thumb could follow along the edge of Jeff's cross, pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up to see more, let his finger trace higher.
His touch was feather-light and Jeff felt it with every nerve in his body, every brush of Jensen's skin on his own. Jensen kept his head down, watching his hands move, and Jeff couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted something so badly.
"Jen." Jeff wanted to close his eyes, so he wouldn't have to see when he tugged his arm free, but the least he could do was face up to reality. Jensen let him go, and Jeff made himself take a step back, too. Jensen stayed where he was, standing easy and relaxed and still, very still, as though any movement might send Jeff running. It wasn't, Jeff thought, a particularly wild assumption. "This is--I can't--"
"I'm guessing they frown on this sort of thing, too," Jensen said, and something--resignation, inevitability--in his voice snapped Jeff right out of how he'd been wrapped up in himself. "Way more than a martini or two on duty, right?"
"They frown on it no matter who's involved," Jeff said, half-amazed at how calm he sounded, half-disappointed in it. "And there's good reason for it. The ethics of me letting something like this happen right now are… It wouldn't be right."
"Yeah," Jensen said, after an endless few seconds. He couldn't have been more clear that he didn't believe Jeff if he'd been carrying a flashing neon sign, but maybe that was for the best, Jeff thought, because he wasn't sure if he could stick to his guns if Jensen was determined to see how far he could push it. "Sure."
He stepped back, away from Jeff, and when he looked up, there was nothing in his eyes but that cool distance that had been his default when they'd first met.
"I told Dani I'd be in early, before I have to go out to the construction site," Jensen said, as though the last few minutes had never happened. "Leave here around 6:30, if that's okay with you."
"It's your schedule," Jeff said, half-wishing he had something he could punch. Jensen only nodded and closed the door behind him.
Jensen didn't even try to sleep, just showered again and changed and made sure he had all the crap he was going to need at the site--steel-toed boots and wrap-around sunglasses and the high-level project plan--ready to go out with him later in the morning. There wasn't any use thinking about what an idiot he'd just made of himself. He didn't have the time anyway, not if they were going to pull this off and not lose everything.
He read through Jared's notes--again--and wrote some of his own, and when the sky finally started lightening, went out to the kitchen and coaxed the Capresso his parents had given him as a housewarming present into making something he could call coffee, even if it was more like espresso on speed. It wasn't like his brain wouldn't appreciate the extra jolt this morning.
Jeff came out as soon as Jensen started making noise, shrugging into his shoulder holster and allowing Jensen to avoid his eyes. Or, hell, maybe he didn't want to look at Jensen any more than Jensen wanted to be looking at him. Jensen wasn't much of a fan of mornings to begin with; this one was looking to set the all time record for bad.
The silence lasted the entire way over to the office, up until Dani breezed in, dressed for client meetings later in the morning, sharp-cut black suit, with sheer black stockings and the wicked heels that got her up out of Munchkinland, as Jared would have said.
"Starbucks in the break room," she called as she went by. "Got all of them with an extra shot and two of everything they had in the bakery case."
"Genius girl," Jensen responded automatically.
"Caffeine and sugar, still the best way to deal with Monday that doesn't need somebody at the door checking IDs." Her voice faded down the hall and for a second, Jensen forgot the rest of the mess.
Just for a second, though, because his phone had started ringing. "Blocked," he said to Jeff, and answered it on speaker.
"Ackles," he said, and knew right away from the odd, faded crackling in the background that it was one of the bad ones. He nodded to Jeff, who already had his own phone out.
"Stall," Jeff mouthed at him, dialing quickly.
"How's Jared?" the synthesized voice asked. "Must have been hard for you, seeing him laid up like that."
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want, Jensen. Back off the Riverwalk development. You already got paid for your pretty design. Just back off now, and nobody else'll get hurt."
Jensen kept his eyes on Jeff's, steady and calm. Tell him a story, Jeff mouthed, cupping his hand over his mouth to speak softly into his own phone.
"We're not sure what we're doing now," Jensen lied. "Jared drives the construction side, but you knew that already."
"You wouldn't be telling me a lie, now, would you? Because I'd hate for your crew to accidentally trigger anything … explosive on the site."
Jensen closed his eyes for a second. "None of my crew is part of this. They're just doing their jobs and in this economy, you can't fault them for that."
"Well, it's too bad you can't tell me what to do, now isn't it. Tell Dani she shouldn't wear black; it washes her out too much."
The call went dead, and Jeff's voice cut through the sudden silence, reeling off his badge number into the handset of the landline, before Jensen could even take a breath. "Bomb squad to--what's the address on the site?"
"No address--we're still working off undeveloped land." Jensen tore through his desk and shoved the surveyor's map at Jeff, pointing at the coordinates, and then stopped cold and said, "Jeff--he knew what Dani was wearing today."
He didn't wait for an answer, just took off, rounding the corner to Dani's office, and then the break room when there was nobody there. The break room was empty, too; Starbuck's bags piled haphazardly on the counter and a dozen coffees still sitting on the table. He looped back up to the front, almost skidding into the lobby as he went by and saw her at letting someone in the front door, the big lanyard of keys in her hand.
"Jensen?" Dani eyed his entrance like he was out of his mind, then turned to the guy she'd just let in and said,. "He really wasn't supposed to drink all the damn coffee."
"You didn't even save one for me, did you," Tommy said, smiling at Jensen's open mouth and then down at Dani. "I told you he forgot we were meeting this morning."
Jensen shook his head, like that was going to help make sense of the whiplash. "Um, yeah, I did, totally, sorry. Dani--" He took her elbow; if nothing else, she could give Jeff whatever information he needed, and faster than Jensen could, probably. "We've got--I need to talk to Dani for a minute, real quick, okay?"
"Sure," Tom said. "I know you guys are really slammed. Not to be all up in your face about it, but you both, you're really looking kind of worn down. Washed out."
Jensen froze at the words, his hand tightening on Dani's arm until she hissed. He looked at Tom, and Tom smiled back, just like usual, except his eyes were flat and cold, and he nodded almost imperceptibly at Jensen. He put his hands in his pockets, pushing his suit jacket back just enough that Jensen could see the gun he had tucked into the side of his waistband.
"Jensen," Dani hissed. "My arm. What the hell is up with you?"
"Sorry, hon," Jensen said, glancing at her and trying to think of something, anything. "I'm going in ten different directions this morning, and Tom's right, I forgot we were meeting and double-booked myself." He kept hold of her elbow and half-dragged her across the lobby; Tom followed, of course, but Jensen hadn't really expected anything else. "Could you do me a favor and call Jeff Morgan--his number's on my desk--and tell him I'm not going to make it this morning?"
He could see the are you out of your fucking mind building in her eyes, but there wasn't time to try anything else.
"Thanks, hon." He shoved her back toward his office, and turned to face Tom. "Tommy and I can take the big conference room, okay?"
"That works just fine for me," Tom said, and gestured for Jensen to lead the way.
"Okay," Dani snapped, charging into Jensen's office without knocking, the force of her rush taking her all the way up to his desk, where Jeff still was trying to make sure the tactical squads had the right information to get them out to the construction site. "Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on around here, and since Jensen just shoved me out of the lobby so he could go pal around with Tom Welling, that somebody is going to be you and, please, let's just drop the story about you working for Donna, okay?"
"Jensen's where?" Jeff came around the desk, not caring how he sounded for a second. Dani took a half-step back, and Jeff got a grip and dialed everything down a notch. "I need you to tell me what's going on."
"What's going on?" Dani snapped. "You tell me. First off, Tom shows up with some cock-and-bull story about having an appointment with Jensen that he'd forgotten--which, hi, have you ever met Jensen? Mr. Anal Retentive? Forget a meeting? Yeah, I don't think so, I don't care how freaked he is about Jared. Then Jensen drags me--drags me, like a caveman--out of the room, and wants me to call you and tell you he's not going to make it. So, hey, here's your call: Jensen's not going to make whatever meeting--also not on the books--you were supposed to be having."
"Where did they go?" Jeff asked, shoving down everything that wasn't this exact moment. "Are they still here?"
"They're in the big conference room," Dani said. "Seriously. What the hell is going on?"
"Can you get around to the front of the building without going by any of the windows in that conference room?" Jeff grabbed a pen from the desk and wrote his badge number as neatly as possible on it. When Dani nodded, he gave her Jensen's phone and the paper and herded her out of the room. "I need you to do that, and while you're doing it, call 911, and tell them the number on that paper, Code 30, okay? 30."
"This really isn't answering even one question," Dani said, but she kept up with him as he hurried her down the hall to the back door of the building. "Code 30?"
"Officer needs assistance, emergency," Jeff said, sliding his badge out of his pocket and showing it to her. "The badge number will tell them Ranger, so they won't be looking for a uniform." He got her to the back door and stopped for a second. "I need you to stay outside, Dani. You meet the Austin cops when they get here, point them to that conference room, but you do not come back in, okay?"
"Here." She looped the lanyard over her head and held the heavy key ring out to him, shaking free a gold key. "This is the key to the conference room door, if you need it."
"Okay." Jeff got her outside the door; she had the phone to her ear before he turned around. He made one fast call to the DPS dispatch, to lay out what was going down, and then dropped the phone in his pocket and left the call connected. The lights were on in the conference room; but the blinds were drawn so he stuck with his initial assessment. Whatever had happened, Jensen had gotten Dani out as fast as possible, and Jeff didn't think that was just because of the telephone threat, which meant a weapon, probably a gun, because nice, All-American guys like Welling didn't like to get their hands dirty with knives.
As he stepped up to the door, he could hear raised voices; two voices and one of them definitely Jensen. Jeff breathed a small thanksgiving.
"--get it," Jensen was shouting. "You've known Jared since he was a kid--were you the one who sat out there and shot at him, or did you hand that off to somebody else, make it easier on yourself?"
"No," Welling snarled, and Jeff didn't like that barely-in-control sound to his voice. "You don't get it. It's gone--everything. It's all gone, and you--if you'd just dropped out of the construction phase, we had the second bid, that would have been enough to get us through. If you'd just backed down earlier, none of this would have happened."
The key Dani had given him fit smoothly into the lock, and with one quick breath, Jeff pushed the door open and stepped in.
Both men turned to stare at him; Jensen recovered more quickly, but Welling threw everything up in the air when he pulled a .32 out from under his suit jacket. Jeff held his hands out, away from his sides, open and easy and as unthreatening as possible.
"Easy, now," he said, with one quick glance at Jensen, before he focused everything back on Welling. "Everything's going to be okay, as long as we all keep calm." He eased a step closer, and again. Welling was all over the place with the pistol; Jeff had been counting on that, but it was still like walking the knife's edge.
"Just… don't," Welling said. "Don't play hero, okay?"
"I'm not playing hero," Jeff said, low and calm. "I don't want anybody getting hurt, so if you can put down the gun, we can all breathe a little easier."
"I think it's too late for that," Welling said, and brought his second hand up to brace his shooting wrist. Jeff reacted instinctively, moving fast enough that he had pretty decent momentum by the time Welling fired. The first shot went high--if you didn't have practice with live ammunition, it was easy to forget how much of a recoil there was, even with something small like a .32--but the second one caught Jeff high on the left shoulder, enough to knock him back a step or two, even as quickly as he'd been moving.
Dimly, Jeff heard Jensen yelling, but Jeff was focused on Welling and how he was fumbling with the gun, his hands shaking so hard Jeff was betting he'd drop it before he'd get another shot off.
"Oh, you're going to have to do better than that, sweetheart," Jeff said, looking Welling straight in the eye as he took the last few steps and knocked the gun away with a quick, hard chop. He might have broken Welling's wrist at the same time, but finesse wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list, especially not with the delayed reaction to the bullet in his shoulder slamming into him. He caught Welling on the point of his jaw with an elbow, putting as much weight into it as he could, and Welling went down like a sack of potatoes.
Jeff would've felt a lot more satisfaction if the conference room wasn't going fuzzy around the edges of his vision; the shot had been high and clean, he knew, but it must have nicked an artery. He stumbled back a step, but Jensen was there to catch him.
"Fucking hell, Jeff," Jensen said. "I thought Rangers were supposed to be smart. The best, right?" He'd pulled his suit jacket off and was folding it up into a square. "Shouldn't you have, I don't know, at least found some Kevlar before you came strolling in here?"
He got Jeff down on the floor and pressed the folded-up jacket against his shoulder, hard, like every Red Cross class said, and most people didn't have the stomach for, but then Jensen wasn't most people, Jeff reminded himself. Jensen leaned down harder; Jeff grunted at the pressure, and felt things go a little grayer.
"Rangers," Jeff said. "We're the craziest ones of the bunch. One riot, one Ranger; right?" He was breathless but otherwise it didn't come out too badly, he thought. "Didn't you know that?"
"I do now," Jensen said, and farther away, Jeff could hear sirens. "Hey, stick around, okay? Don't make me explain this all by myself."
"Yeah, trying," Jeff said. "Talk."
"I think you missed your guess about the trucks being important," Jensen said. "I don't think Tom cared."
"Some theories are better than others," Jeff said. "Still was worth thinking about." He bit down hard on his bottom lip, and added, "Be nice, though. Don't make me think about how fucked-up this whole case has been while I'm still bleeding."
"Okay, yeah, so, so, that first night, you said you painted, landscapes," Jensen said, and that was good, something to focus on. "Any place in particular?"
"Have a house," Jeff said. "Up on the Brazos. Always something I want to get on canvas there."
"And I'm guessing it's not watercolors." Jensen said it with at straight face, but even with everything going blurry, Jeff could see the laughter in his eyes.
Jeff smiled, or at least tried to--he didn't think it worked too well, judging from the expression on Jensen's face.
"It's that peer pressure thing again, isn't it?" Jensen said, and Jeff huffed out a small laugh.
"Oils," Jeff said. "And you're right. Bad enough I paint; watercolors would be really frowned on."
Jensen nodded and said, "So you paint the river?"
Jeff focused and got his brain to talk to his mouth and tried to tell Jensen about the riverbanks and how the light caught them differently at different times and the sirens got louder and louder.
Jensen waited six weeks. He ran around from construction site to construction site five days a week, and split his weekends between hanging out with Jared as much as possible and getting as much of his own work done as he could. He called his parents at least once a week, and Mac every day, because they were all freaked out by the news, especially when he admitted that most of the stories he'd seen or read weren't all that sensationalistic. He went down to police headquarters whenever they needed a statement, and went over almost as often to the Ranger headquarters, and gave them whatever they needed for their reams of paperwork.
He worked out that Michael had been sniffing around because he'd gotten wind of the threats and thought it'd be a good time to make a move for a buy-out; Jensen shook his head when Michael admitted all of that--it was an anomaly, just not the one they'd been trying to figure out. Jensen didn't bother with any of the social niceties beyond telling him to get out.
He crossed his 'i''s and dotted his 't's and flossed and did all the things good guys were supposed to do, and worked on fixing the really big issue: Dani.
He and Jared had both been wrong, completely and totally off the mark, and Jensen was going to be kicking himself for it for a long time. Dani hadn't pitched a fit or tried to decapitate either one of them. Jensen wished that she had. Instead, after they'd come clean on everything, she'd turned away from them with so much hurt in her eyes that Jensen was afraid it wasn't ever going away. It had taken her almost a month to really speak to him again, beyond anything that was necessary for work, and when she had, she'd laid it all out for him, all nice and neat, everything from how she understood that things weren't entirely in his control right on up to how they'd done what every other guy had always done: closed ranks against her and left her by the side of the road.
Jensen had stopped pretending that things were okay at that point; ironically, that had actually gotten things to be more okay than they'd been.
So.
Jensen did all the things he was supposed to do, and when he needed a break, he spent his days with a plat book of the land along the Brazos, searching county deeds until he found what he was looking for.
After six weeks, when the DA's office called to say that Tom had taken the plea bargain for multiple counts of aggravated assault, and Jared was out of the hospital and almost out of the cast, and Dani had point-blank told him he was making her crazy and she was getting past things but she might kill him before she got there, Jensen finally threw a change of clothes into the back of his car and headed out to track down the parcel of land he'd found deeded to Jeffrey Dean Morgan.
It only took him a couple of hours to get there, but the last fifteen miles were no picnic in the 'Vette--the roads were barely paved, and the car definitely wasn't built for that, but the view grew steadily more beautiful.
He wasn't surprised to see Jeff standing on the edge of a small, neat cabin when he finally pulled into the clearing. Jeff had to have heard him coming; Jensen took it as a good sign that he came out to meet him. And that he hadn't turned right back around when he figured out who it was for sure.
Jensen cut off the engine and got out of the car slowly, waiting for the Too little, too late greeting he was halfway expecting. Jeff watched him without changing his expression. Jensen stayed by the car, and after a bit said, "I came to the hospital to see you but it was kind of a zoo."
There had always been people there--half the retired Rangers in Texas showed up, as near as Jensen could tell--and it had been busy and both times, they'd said Jeff was sleeping, so Jensen had left without leaving a name, because he wasn't sure if that wasn't frowned upon, too, visiting with a Ranger who'd gotten shot taking care of you.
"And you checked out really fast." Jensen wanted to ask what the doctors had to say about that, but he didn't see where he had the right, no matter how much he wanted it.
"I hate hospitals," Jeff said, with a sigh. "I figured it was you. I don't know too many other people who fit the description I got from all the old-timers." He leaned back against one of the porch columns and studied Jensen for a few more minutes. "I was wondering if you were ever going to show up, but I have to admit, I was more expecting you down in McAllen."
"I tried there," Jensen said. "The lady who's keeping an eye on your house said you were up here for a while."
Jeff looked good, Jensen thought. Tan and relaxed in jeans and a henley, his feet bare and a big, black dog nosing around his legs. He looked great, if you could ignore how his left arm was up in a sling. That didn't even look bad, not unless there was a fair chance that you were the reason it was there.
"You brought the wrong car," Jeff said. "You're lucky you didn't break an axle on the way up."
"Trust me," Jensen said. "I thought about walking in the whole last part, but I'm not really keen on ten mile hikes. Besides," he added, taking a deep breath. "I owe you a look up under the hood, now that we're not on the clock."
"Yeah," Jeff said, with a small smile. "You do." He rolled off the column and turned back toward the door. "Later, though. After dinner."
Jensen followed him into the cabin. It was as small as it looked from the outside, but everything was in perfect proportion and while it wasn't decorated, it was lived in and comfortable, and Jensen could tell that it was someplace Jeff thought of as home.
He leaned against the small bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house and watched while Jeff did something complicated to a stew already on the stove and, judging from the smell, almost ready to be eaten. Jensen had planned to wait, see how the day went, ease into things, but standing there, he needed to know before things went any further.
"Is this--you have to tell me if this is okay," Jensen said. "Or if it's never going to be okay. Do they frown on this now, with everything all taken care of, Tom pleading down, and the case closed?"
"Jen--"
"You know, I'm pretty sure this isn't something where I'm blinded by hero worship. I really am grateful for you getting me out of the way of that truck, but I'm still pissed at you for charging in and getting yourself shot."
Jeff snorted. "You're not the only one." He picked up a big wooden spoon and gave the stew a few stirs, but it was just to give him something to do other than looking at Jensen. Jensen wasn't going to dwell on how much he liked knowing Jeff's tells, except that it was a lot. "As far as DPS and the Rangers are concerned, the ethical issues are done."
"And you?"
"Well, there, you'd have a hard time saying. Most of me is saying okay, fine, you met him how you met him. But the rest of me is saying that the other part wants you so fucking bad, I shouldn't trust it. And all of me is wondering if you really want to deal with having a cop in your life. Bad hours, worse pay, no guarantees at all."
Jensen walked into the little kitchen, five normal steps taking him right up against the stove, and took the spoon out of Jeff's hand. "Yeah, I get the part about no guarantees." He made himself touch the sling, run his fingers down the edge of it. "I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't okay with it." He shrugged. "So, here I am."
Jeff let him draw his head down, and the first careful brush of his mouth against Jensen danced along Jensen's nerves like electrical pulses. Jeff let him get away with two more like that before he cupped Jensen's face in his good hand and growled, "You want to kiss; let's kiss."
Jensen wanted to do a lot, but kissing was just fine, especially when it turned out that Jeff liked it slow and rough, teeth biting along Jensen's mouth and jaw just hard enough to bruise. Jensen tilted back his head and Jeff took the invitation, moving along his neck with more and harder bites.
A timer went off behind them; Jeff took one last kiss before he stopped to turned it off, and then turned off everything. "It'll hold until later," he said, steering Jensen out of the kitchen and fetching up hard against the wall to the bedroom. "This needs to happen now."
"I'm not going to argue with you," Jensen said, rubbing his hips up hard against Jeff's. Jeff worked a hand between them and both of them groaned at the added pressure. "Bedroom?"
"Maybe." Jeff played with him a little bit more, letting Jensen grind against his hand before finally steering him in the right direction. The bed was huge and covered with a quilt, and the sheets under it were soft with repeated washings. Jensen sat on the bed and took his clothes off, his eyes locked on Jeff's the whole time. Jeff stayed leaning against the door frame, watching with that sharp intensity Jensen had come to associate with him, just never quite like this, until Jensen was naked, sprawled out on Jeff's bed, jerking himself slowly.
"Don't stop," Jeff said, crossing the room and sitting on the bed. He reached out and ran the edge of his thumbnail in a long, slow path from Jensen's throat to the base of his dick. The second time, he detoured to tease at Jensen's nipples, left, then right, then left again, and ending with sharp, twisting pinches that sent bright, sparkling shocks over and along nerves Jensen had forgotten he had.
"That's it," Jeff said, adding his hand to Jensen's, casually handling Jensen's dick as though it belonged to him. Jensen twisted and writhed on the sheets, already so out of control he couldn't recognize himself. "That's it," Jeff growled. "Show me how much you want it."
"Fuck, Jeff," Jensen gasped. "Finish it, fuck, please."
Jeff smiled down at him and tightened his fingers around the base of Jensen's cock, until Jensen keened high in his throat.
"Over," Jeff said. "On your belly."
Jensen gasped and panted, but moved as quickly as he could. Jeff helped with a couple of stinging slaps to the inside and back of this thighs, slaps that Jensen could still feel even after Jeff had him the way he wanted him. Jeff opened him up with care, taking his time even when Jensen pushed back and demanded more. That got him another slap or two, enough that his whole ass throbbed as Jeff pushed into him, low warm ache from Jeff's hands riding easily under the sweet sharp burn of Jeff's dick.
Jeff moved steadily, every thrust that much quicker, that much harder, like a freight train slamming down a hill, the brakes already burned out and useless. Jensen got his hand on his dick, working it as hard and rough as Jeff was working his ass, and it took no time at all before orgasm ripped through him, fast, hot waves that dragged him under and held him down, so that he could barely stay up long enough for Jeff to follow.
Jensen would have been happy to have stayed where he was all night, but Jeff had him up and moving, the shower calling his name, as soon as they could breathe again. Jensen considered complaining but Jeff pinned him against the wall and started with the kissing again, so Jensen let it slide. This time.
He ignored the bitching and growling that came when he piled all the stuff on the stove onto a couple of plates and tossed them in the microwave, rather than going through and doing it the "right" way, which apparently involved bringing everything to a simmer on the burners and dishing from there.
The coffee situation--an ancient Mr. Coffee--was really the only thing that was unacceptable. Jensen made a mental note to at least get a French press up there. Jeff let him complain about it for about a minute, but then shut him up with more kisses, and a whispered promise to see how he liked a gag.
"You done with the alpha routine?" Jensen asked, once they were actually back in bed, and yes, it felt very nice to be there clean and fed and all, but that wasn't something he was going to admit. At least not until Jeff pressed the issue--which he would, at some point; Jensen was under no illusions about that.
"For now," Jeff admitted. "But, it, uh, maybe comes with the badge."
"Really?" Jensen said, a little bit of laughter spilling over into his voice, and Jeff grinned at him, dug his hand in under Jensene's ribs until he squirmed. That was good, that was the other part of why he was here, not just how fucking intense it was between them, but that spark of laughter that hadn't gone away even when Jensen had all his weight leaning on Jeff, trying to keep him from bleeding out before the EMTs got to him. "It comes with the star? I hadn't noticed."
***
Thanks to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
thehighwaywoman and wendy for organizing the challenge and finding a prompt so super-awesome that I braved my phone's web browser on my way to work to claim it (and for extending the deadline by a week because I barely made it even then.) Also, many thanks to 1orelei who (sight unseen) volunteered to be a first reader when I signed up for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
ficfinishing and who kept on cheerleading even when I was just sending a scene here and there, whenever my schedule let me get an email off. And love always to
withdiamonds who listened to me whinewhinewhine about this and kept telling me she couldn't wait to read it even though she had to be sick of hearing about it. =)![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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