Smoke & Lightning: City Of Angels (22/?)
Title: Smoke & Lightning : City Of Angels (22/?)
Authors: eviltwin and bloody_adorable
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki.
Wordcount: 3,567
Rating: Adult.
Summary: Jared gets an unwelcome visitor at the bar.
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
MASTER POST
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jensen didn't like it. Not one bit.
Jared could see that he was pouting. He sighed and, helmet in hand, walked over to him. He leaned down enough so that his forehead gently bumped up against Jensen's. Jared was silent for a second or two, just looking at him, even though Jensen wouldn't look at him. Instead, Jensen just stood there at the side of the road with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Jen," Jared finally spoke, his voice soft. "I can't live in a bubble forever."
Jensen knew that, he really did, but it didn't mean he had to like it. "But do you have to go out so soon on another bike?" he asked.
"What 'another bike?'" Jared returned, straightening to his full height. "This is your bike. You're done for the night, right?"
"Yes. But what if I'm called in?"
"You're not on call, Jen, or I wouldn't take it."
Dammit, Jensen grumbled internally. "Well, what if something comes up? An emergency at work?"
"Then find a way to work," he said. "Hell, call me and I'll come get you. But you've gotta let me go."
Jared started to move away. Before he could stop himself, Jensen reached out and grabbed hold of the helmet, stopping him. "Wait."
Jared refrained from sighing, even though he was admittedly a little annoyed.
Jensen looked up at him, his eyes searching Jared's for any unsure feeling he had about getting on a bike again. "You're not healed yet," he reminded him. But he knew that Jared wouldn't care. He was of the mindset that if you fell off the horse, you got back on and tried twice as hard as you did before. Jensen admired it, and agreed, but that didn't stop him from worrying. "You'll call as soon as you get there?"
Jared nodded. "Yes, Jen," he said.
"Just..." Jensen stammered for a moment, trying to put his feelings into words. "We've had such a bad run of luck lately. And then, with the apartment getting broken into...I just worry."
"I know you do, Jen." The police had been called to the apartment. They'd dusted all the windows for fingerprints, since Jared and Jensen had used their key to enter the place. Nothing had been stolen, not that they could tell, and that unnerved both of them more than anything else. They had a lot of money in the place. Televisions, the 360, laptops, bike gear, and not to mention the paperwork to the Blue, which had credit card and payroll information.
Jensen watched Jared swing his good leg over the bike, favoring it just slightly, and settle down upon the seat. He slipped his helmet on, a brand new one that Phin had purchased for him when he’d visited. Jensen hated it. It had a skull emblazoned on the front, with long Vampire-like fangs. Jared had come so close to becoming nothing but a skeleton, which was Phin's point, but Jensen hated to see that figure.
The bike roared to life, and Jared looked over at Jensen. "I'll call, okay?"
Though his voice was just barely audible over the thunderous motor, Jensen nodded. He felt lost, afraid. It was ridiculous, he knew. Jared was a big boy, capable of making his own decisions. He waited, though, until Jared was out of sight, having turned the corner and kept on his way down the road, to work. He took a look around outside, but didn't see the rental car that he feared would be there. He closed the downstairs door and headed back up to the apartment.
As promised, Jared called Jensen when he got to the bar. It was already crowded and the sun was just starting to set in the west, making the darkening sky look like it was nothing more than a painting, not something real.
Sitting on his bike, Jared smiled as Jensen answered. "I'm here, Mom," he teased.
Jensen didn't laugh. "Okay," he said. "Thank you for calling. I know I'm a pain."
Jared chuckled. "You're not a pain, Jen," he corrected. "I love that you're so worried. You wouldn't be you, if you weren't."
This time, Jensen laughed. Jared could hear that he sounded a little bit more relaxed. "Okay, have a good night," he said. "And if you get tired--"
"I know," Jared nodded. "I'll tell Rob I need to call it quits." He was quiet for a moment more, worried suddenly. "You have the bat with you, right?"
Jensen paused before answering. "Yeah," he said. "It's here."
"Fucking use it, if you have to," Jared told him. "I don't like leaving you alone when we know jack shit about the break-in."
Jensen laughed again. "Then why did you leave, you idiot?"
Jared sighed quietly at him. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do," he agreed. "And don't worry about me. I'll be okay."
"Alright, I'm outta here."
"Okay, love you."
"Love you," he returned. Swinging his leg over the bike, Jared stood and stretched the stiffness out of his healing limb, and then moved to the back door to the bar.
He never noticed the rental car pull around to the back of the building. It came to a stop, watching Jared slip inside the back entry, then backed up and moved to the very end of the lot, the furthest spot away from the building. To wait.
* * *
It was customary for the front door to be locked after hours, but Jared hadn't gotten to it yet. Artie had left only moments ago. Jared should have headed over to the door right after he'd gone, but he had gotten caught up in cleaning. It had been a little crazy during the night, but Jared had made it through. When he got tired, he sat down on a stool behind the bar and served people. It worked out quite well.
Wiping down the last table, Jared scrubbed off yet another night of alcohol and partying. He was tired, and his leg hurt. It made him limp when he got too worn out. His head pounded, something that he'd learned to live with since the accident. Lucky for his job, he didn't sleep overly well these days, so staying up late to clean up didn't bother him. And he felt proud of himself that he'd made it through another night of work so soon after getting out of the hospital.
The sound was soft, the door squeaking as it opened and closed. Jared turned for a moment, seeing a shadow step into the room. "Bar's closed," he called out to the person.
"Hello, Jared."
For a moment, he froze, immediately recognizing the voice. He clutched his cleaning rag in his hand and turned to look at his biological father. "What?"
Smiling, Amos stepped closer. "I heard it was you that managed this place," he said. "Guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree."
Turning, Jared grabbed the spray bottle of cleaning fluid off the table he'd been scrubbing and moved behind the bar. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He opened his arms in a non-threatening manner. "Only that I used to work in a place just like this."
"You got a reason for being here?" he asked. "The bar's closed."
"I heard you," Amos returned, nodding his head. "I don't drink anymore, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," Jared said. He leaned down to put the cleaning supplies away in their place under the bar. "Let me get out the medal of valor."
Amos chuckled, seating himself at the bar. "You have your mother's sense of humor," he said.
Instantly furious, Jared straightened and slammed his fist down on the bar, glaring over at the man. Uncomfortable silence settled between them for a handful of seconds. "You don't get to talk about her," Jared finally spoke, pointing a warning finger at him.
"Alright," Amos returned, hands in the air. He let Jared's temper cool somewhat before he spoke again. There was the clink of glass as Jared finished up what glasses there were to wash. "What am I allowed to talk about?"
"Nothing, get the hell out of here." Up to his elbows in hot water, Jared nodded to the door, not at all joking.
It was quiet for a split second, Amos frowning. "Jared."
"Look, you live in LA," he began. "Where you went all those years ago is finally clear. You did Mom and I a favor."
"She was going to leave me anyway," he almost interrupted. "I just left her before she could leave me."
Jared nodded. "Mature. We live in the same city. Big deal. It's a big place. That doesn't mean we have to be pals and go on fucking picnics together. Catch up on shitty times. I don't want anything to do with you. Can I say it any simpler than that?"
"Come on, Jared," the man said. "I'm trying to make amends here."
"You've said your piece," he returned. "I'm done talking, get out."
Amos laughed softly, shaking his head. "You're mad at me, I get it."
Jared met his eyes. "M...Mad at you?" He almost laughed. "No, I'm not mad at you. I'm over you."
"Come on, work with me," Amos complained. "This is for my A-A shit. I just want to get to know you a little before I have to walk out of here."
"Didn't want to get to know me before you walked out on me twenty-some years ago." Jared set the last two glasses on the rack beside the rinse water and reached into the sinks to pull the plugs, draining either side of the double washtub.
Amos nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "That was my bad."
"No, as far as I'm concerned, that was the one and only thing you ever did right." Jared could almost hear Jensen's voice in his head, telling him to cut the man some slack. After all, he was trying. But Jared wondered if Amos would be trying so hard to find him and apologize, if he hadn't found his son in the hospital. If Jared was still in Texas. He couldn't picture his biological father traveling all the way from LA to Texas just to catch up on times neither one really cared to remember. Hell, he couldn't imagine him calling.
Watching his son dry off his hands with a bar towel, Amos stood from the barstool. "Just hear me out for a little while, Jared," he offered. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
Jared shook his head, tossing the towel down by the sink. "Not interested," he said. He started around the bar again, his boots clomping on the solid flooring. "You have ten seconds to get your ass out that door."
"I'm dying, Jared."
He wasn't sure how to react to the words. He wanted to laugh, wondering what fucking lame soap opera he had fallen into. He wanted to feel bad for the man that used to beat him. He wanted to not care. The tough side of him told him to brush it off. Fuck it, his mind told him. He deserves it.
"I have cancer," the man continued.
It was quiet for a second more, Jared absorbing the information. He remembered how horribly painful the disease had been for his mother and, for a moment, he hoped the man suffered a million times more than she had. "It's time for you to go."
"Are you even listening to me?" Amos asked, his voice raised. "I am dying."
It was then, for some reason, his caring side kicked in. The side that Jensen had nurtured and gotten to be in the foreground more often just lately. "I know," he said with a gentle nod of his head. "And I'm sorry. But do you really think making amends is going to clear you with God?"
"I'm hoping."
Jared smiled and shook his head. "Maybe," he agreed. "But it doesn't clear you with me."
"You won't even listen?"
"Nope."
Amos sighed and shook his head, obviously annoyed by his son's attitude. "Still the same stubborn little bastard, I see."
Scratching at his cheek, beard stubble rasping against his fingers, Jared just looked at him for a moment. His apathetic nature had returned quite easily around Amos. "Only this time, you can't just beat the insolence out of me, can you? I'm not the same kid you hit in the face with a fucking axe because I broke your cigarette lighter." He could still remember the feel of the flat side of the axe hitting him across the jaw. It had been bruised for weeks, miraculously not broken, and Jared's mom had cried for a month straight. It was then that she had finally gotten some information out of Jared. Once he told her some of what had been going on, she started looking for a place for them to hide. Only it happened that Amos left them well before they got a chance to flee.
"I might be dying," Amos said, "but I can still kick some ass." He reached out to angrily poke Jared with one finger, but his plans backfired.
The instant Jared saw the hand coming at him, he thought old habits would kick in. He thought he would cringe away from the fist that had caused him so much pain. Instead, his fight instinct came to life. He grabbed hold of Amos' hand and twisted him around. The man's back was at his chest and his arm around his own throat.
"You can't kick mine," Jared growled into the man's ear. "Now get the fuck outta my bar." He let go of him, shoving him away. He watched as Amos stumbled over a table. Because of his unsure footing, he knocked a chair to the floor from where it had been stacked atop the table. Raising his arms in the air, Amos backed away. His hand throbbed with pain, and his pride had taken a considerable bashing.
"Jesus Christ," Amos grumbled. He pushed his longish hair off his forehead and took a deep breath, straightening his jacket. "Alright," he nodded. "Just remember how you treated me when your place is broken into again. No one got hurt this time, but there's no saying that won't happen next time."
Anger made Jared's eyes flare. "You were the one that broke into my place?"
"You and that guy you're living with," Amos nodded. "But there's only one bed, so where the fuck does he sleep?"
Jared smiled. This would be the perfect way to get back at his biological father, someone who was a manly man, that was painfully homophobic. "With me," he answered.
"Fuck you," Amos returned. "No kid of mine is a fag."
Jared dug into his pocket and found his cell phone, holding it out to the man. "Call him and ask," he offered. He watched Amos glance from him, to the phone, then back again. "And, as I've said before, I ain't your kid."
After regarding him for a few seconds more, Amos decided to let the matter slide. Jared was obviously lying. "Where's your mom's red bank book?"
It was so off-topic that it took a moment for the question to sink in. "What?"
"Her red bank book, where is it?"
"How the fuck would I know?"
"She left it to you when she kicked it, didn't she?"
"Fuck you," Jared snarled. "No, she didn't."
"Bullshit," Amos argued. "She left you a shitload of money, I know she did, you little prick."
"Is that what you want from me?" Jared almost smiled. "Money? Hell, I'll rob a fucking bank if it means getting you out of my life."
"That was my money she left you," Amos warned. "I want it back."
"Are you even dying, you lying asshole?"
"I want my money, Jared."
He'd had it. Jared stomped closer to the man, his jaw set in anger. Amos must have realized he'd pushed a little too far and backed away. Jared followed the man, using his size to intimidate. His limp was gone for the time being, as he moved towards the door, forcing the man out. When Amos was out the door, Jared slammed it closed and locked it.
He didn't know if Amos had been telling the truth or not, but he knew for a fact that the man was more coward than anything else. That would be the last he would see of him.
* * *
The house had very little furniture in it. So that meant that their heavy breathing and moans echoed off the blank walls. They'd had a small picnic in the kitchen, after moving in some of their furniture. Jensen still couldn't believe that they had a house. The yard was fenced in, and Maya was having a blast running around. She hadn't even wanted to come in for dinner. Maybe she knew what Jared had in mind for afterwards. She tended to make herself scarce when it got heated in the room.
They had talked during dinner. Jared told Jensen what Memo had wanted to see him about. Apparently, someone came into the shop, asking questions about Jared. Memo hadn’t told the mysterious man that Jared was working next door, not really trusting him, but said that one of the other guys had let slip that Jared was going on vacation. It was that, more than likely, that had given the guy an idea of when to make his move. Memo felt terrible.
Jared had Memo describe the guy to him and, sure enough, he was positive it was Amos. Jared told Memo to stop feeling bad about the break-in, it wasn't his fault. He did, however, tell him that if he ever saw Amos again, Memo had his okay to beat the shit out of him.
Picking up after the picnic, Jensen asked again about the story Jared had told him, about Amos showing up at the bar.
"I don't want to talk about my father any more," Jared said, shoving the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator. Jensen stood by the kitchen island, watching him.
"But you said he came to see you and wanted money."
"So?"
Jensen shrugged. "What if we gave him some?" he offered. "Maybe he would leave us alone."
Jared shook his head. He leaned one hand at either side of Jensen's body, caging him there against the kitchen island. "You give a guy like that any money, and you'll never be rid of him. He's a crook, plain and simple. I told you, I talked to the cops, and pointed them in the right direction. They just gotta find him and we'll be out one less headache."
Jensen tried not to frown, nodding his head. "Okay."
It was then that Jared had made his move. It didn't take Jensen any time at all to figure out that they were first going to christen the kitchen, right there on the island, with the shutters slanted so that the sun fell down to the floor in perfect rectangles and Maya running around the backyard, barking at God-knew-what. And he let him.
Finally their clothes were shed, they were sweaty and breathing hard. Their muscles shook from exertion, and there were sore spots on their bodies from fingers grasping, teeth biting, and mouths suckling. Jensen was having a hard time keeping his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. His legs were wrapped around Jared, his back pressed against the island. Jared was thrusting into him as hard as he could, rocking both their bodies. Jensen was glad that the island was secured to the floor, else he had a feeling they would have rolled all around the kitchen from Jared's rocking hips. Both of Jared's hands were caressing the dusky flesh beneath Jensen's cock, massaging and squeezing. Jensen worked at stroking himself, the combination of moves making him grit his teeth to keep himself in check.
He never could hold himself off too long, when Jared decided that it was time. He tried to savor the feeling of being pushed over the edge, of coming undone. The world stopped, his mouth gaped open, and there was a deep pull at his stomach. He felt warmth spread across his belly and chest, and heard his own voice cry out as Jared kept up with his almost brutal pace. He wasn't far behind Jensen, feeling the man's muscles tighten around him. He moaned Jensen's name, maybe a swear word or two, and then shuddered violently. His hands moved to clamp down on Jensen's hips so that he could thrust hard a couple more times, keeping the man stationary, and then he stopped.
Breathing hard, they met each other's eyes, smiling at one another. Not caring about getting sticky, Jared leaned down, his chest pressing up against Jensen's, and kissed the man. "How many more rooms do we have?"
Jensen laughed, nodding his head. "A lot," he agreed.
"And we're doing something horribly filthy in each one of them, right?"
He chuckled again, with yet another nod. He reached up and set a hand against Jared's cheek. "You got it," he agreed.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hm?"
"You know we're gonna be okay, right?"
Jensen loved it when Jared tried to reassure him. He smiled brighter and nodded. "Yeah," he returned. "I know."
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