TKO, 7/8, R, J2
Title: TKO 7/8
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Word Count: 6000+/-
Summary Jensen is an ex-con with a clean slate. Jared owns an MMA gym. They like each other, a lot.
A/N: This fic is complete in eight parts. I will post on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
TKO One ~ TKO Two ~ TKO Three ~ TKO Four ~ TKO Five ~ TKO Six ~ TKO Seven ~ TKO Eight
Thanks to: passing_through for the beta work. Even when you didn’t get it, you were there for the story. Thank you darlin’
Graphics by: Raeschae
TKO
Round Seven
Jensen let himself into his apartment. His landlord was at his door in seconds. Jensen paid him for the previous week and the upcoming week and winced. Having missed that much work was a problem. He smiled to the landlord who craned his neck, looking for a rental agreement violation. Jensen knew there weren’t any.
He fell back on his bed, and when he woke up it was twenty minutes later. He grabbed all of his clothes, pushed them into an old duffle and headed to the Laundromat. He’d moved everything but his new dress pants, which said “do not put in dryer” into the dryer when his phone rang.
“You okay?”
“You just dropped me off an hour ago. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I just wanted to check.”
“Jared, what’s going on?”
Jared was silent for a few moments. “The last time you were out of my sight, you made yourself sick running around trying to leave the city. I want to make sure you’ll be here tomorrow to work out in the morning.”
“I will, but I’m out of practice after four days. I’m going to have to do some serious weight training.”
“No problem. Where are you, it sounds weird.”
“I’m at the Laundromat. Some of us like to smell like something other than an old gym.”
“Hey!”
Jensen smiled at Jared's amused indignation, and realized that everyone’s talk about progress was starting to sink in. He actually felt comfortable joking with Jared, and Jared felt comfortable letting him.
“I have to get my stuff out of the dryer, but… I’ll be by tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
“Yeah.”
Jensen got to work a half hour early and was immodestly hugged hard and long by Amy. “Jensen, I was so worried. Thank you so much, I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. Just… thank you. Benny says dinner, whatever you want.”
“What’s the regular staff dinner?”
“Fettuccini Alfredo.”
“That’s fine, I can…”
“Jensen, you saved my life, get a steak!”
Jensen turned to Benny. “Hi.” He hunched his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“You eat salad?”
Jensen nodded.
“How about green beans?” Jensen nodded again.
“Potatoes?” Jensen nodded again, not sure where this was going.
Benny turned to Amy. “Get him the rib-eye, medium rare with all the trimmings. Jensen and I are going to sit down and have a talk.”
Jensen let Benny lead him to a table in the back. Amy brought him tonic water with lime, his usual, and Benny had a scotch and soda. “So, Lizzie doesn’t think I’m taking care of you.”
“You are. I mean, I don’t need taking care of.”
“So how do you like working the door?”
Jensen could feel the cold trickle of sweat run down his back. “It’s what I’m good at.”
“No doubt, but how do you like it.”
“I’m just… I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”
“Well, good, I don’t want you to hurt anyone. You know that, right? I fired Donny because all he wanted was to beat on people. You, you do everything you can to avoid that. You’ve only had to lay hands on customers a couple of times. That’s what I like.”
Jensen felt himself relax a little as Amy brought out their salads and bread. “You’re doing a good job here kiddo. You know that, right?”
Jensen shrugged and Benny held up his glass. Jensen held his up to clink them. “To you, best bouncer I’ve had in a while.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, you’re the one not beatin’ the snot outta my customers.”
Jensen ducked his head and focused on the salad.
By the end of the night he was tired. More tired than usual, the flu apparently having taken more out of him than he’d thought.
He walked home slowly, listening for echoing footsteps, paranoid. But he got home safely and didn’t even bother to open a book, just fell asleep fully clothed.
The next day he went to the gym but his stamina was shot to hell. A half hour into practicing his kick boxing accuracy Jared sent him to the showers, well, Jared's showers, in Jared's house, but the upshot was the same. Jensen emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I should… “He stopped; Jared hated sentences that started with ‘should’. “I um… I’m still weak.”
“From being sick. It’s expected. I got some new training discs in, wanna watch?”
“I gotta get to the library, I skipped a few days.”
“Lizzie knows why, knows you’re okay.”
“Yeah but… I mean, I can’t…”
“Hold up. You think that because you’re not up to sex, I don’t want you hanging around?”
Jensen had a feeling that an honest answer was gonna get him a lecture so he remained silent, but he could hear Jared’s frustrated sighs anyway. “I like you here, sick or healthy, naked or clothed, so just decide where you want to be. If you want to go to the library, I get it. You like it there, and I want you to have that. I won’t be mad.”
Jensen sat down. “I wanna see the new training methods.”
By two Jensen was waking up from where he’d dozed on Jared's shoulder. “Shit, I’m so…”
“Do not fucking apologize.”
“I’m not allowed to be sorry?”
“Not for everything, no.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, so, you want something for lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“I think I should go to the library, and tomorrow I have to go see my PO.”
“On a Saturday?” Jared's forehead wrinkled.
“Saturday? Today’s Thursday.”
“Nope, it’s Friday.”
“Oh my god, Oh god, Oh god, I was supposed to see him at nine thirty, it’s… almost three, oh god, he’s gonna, I’m…”Jensen looked up at Jared, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m going back to prison.”
Jared grabbed his shoulders. “Listen to me; that am not going to happen, okay. No way, not because you got sick, and missed one appointment.”
“That’s all it takes, one appointment and then you’re done. Back inside. Back to…”
“Let’s go.”
‘Where? You want me to run?”
Jared actually did want him to run, but knew it was the same panic that was overwhelming Jensen at the moment.
“Jensen, get in the car. We’ll go, you’ll be late, you’ll give a urine sample if you have to, and you’ll see, they won’t send you back to jail. They let you out for overcrowding, they’re not gonna put you back in for having a cold.”
Jensen looked unconvinced but followed Jared out to the car. He fidgeted for the first mile until Jared gripped his hand. “Breathe, you’ll be okay.”
The complex was crowded and loud and Jared started to really understand how disoriented Jensen got in this environment. He was shaking, and reached for Jared's hand twice before snatching his hand back quickly, afraid of people’s reactions.
They waited in line and Jared could hear the PO from across the room.
“You’re late; I can violate you for that. You’re lucky you showed up at all, you don’t, I’ll find your ass and throw it right back inside. Probably not so bad in there for you huh, you can fight; you got that girly face, probably just what they’re looking for.”
Jared's fists balled. He remained leaning against the wall, not saying a word. But it was a close call.
“You give me a sample, show me you ain’t been wasting your time gettin’ high, and proof you’re still employed and we’ll keep this as a note in your file and nothing else.”
Jared let out a breath and Jensen followed the man off to a separate room. When he came back he handed a sheet of paper from his wallet to his PO. A copy was made, and Jensen was free to go. When they got halfway down the hall Jensen stopped, gripping the side rail tightly. His face was gray, his knuckles were white.
“Jensen?”
Jensen opened his mouth, and then his legs buckled. Jared caught him quickly. “Hey, Jensen, c’mon.”
Jensen opened his eyes and stood up, walking a little crookedly, swaying slightly. Jared hung close and inhaled deeply, guiding Jensen back to the car.
He took Jensen back to his place.
Jensen was groggy and a little pale the whole ride. “He could still violate me. All that cold medicine. Looks like crank in the system.”
“Jensen! Stop! You didn’t do crank. You had a cold. I know you’re scared, but it’s okay. I promise it’s okay.”
“You can’t promise that.” But Jensen's skin was white as paper, his freckles dark, almost black against his skin, and his voice was slurred so Jared ignored the statement, made sure Jensen didn’t try to climb out of the truck himself and helped Jensen inside, putting him to bed.
At five Bowie came by. “Haven’t seen you much lately.”
“Yeah, Jensen's been sick. Sorry. We still on for Monday?”
“Yeah, you get Ronnie anything?”
“Day at a spa to act like a girl. You?”
“New weight training belt.”
“Perfect. So, what’s up?”
“Nothing, you gonna invite me in?”
“Jensen's sleeping and he’s kinda…”
“He thinks I want to kick his ass.”
“No, but I think I want you to let him try.”
“What?”
“He needs to fight, not just spar, and there’s no way he’s gonna take a shot at me. I need you to fight him, I mean, in a ring, rules and rounds and points.”
“I’ll tear him apart.”
Jared smirked, “you can try, but everyone in the club who’s seen him fight wants a piece of him, they’ll go for blood. I want you to go for the TKO.”
“And if I draw blood, you gonna get upset?”
“Nope. If you win, fair and square, then we’re all good.”
“And if he does?”
“Also all good. I just need someone he trusts, someone I trust.”
“Yeah, okay, let me know when, but you know I still think this might be a huge mistake, right?”
“I’ve heard your objections, and they have been noted and considered.”
“Fuck you.”
“I think that’s what I just said.”
Bowie laughed. “So, you comin’ back to work anytime soon?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Cool.”
Jensen listened and blinked, trying to focus. When he heard the door roll shut he slid out of bed and into a pair of sweats from the floor. He tied the knot tight but they still rode low on his hips. He yawned and Jared was at his side in seconds. “You should probably get back in bed.”
“Was that Bowie?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to fight Bowie?”
“Well, this wasn’t how I was going to bring it up, but, yes.”
“Like, in a ring?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll kill me, he’s better than I am.”
“That’s not what you’re afraid of.”
Jensen leaned against the wall. “He’ll get hurt, what if… what if I can’t stop?”
“Jensen, listen to me, you are not some mindless killing machine. When you took down Amy’s ex, you hit him three times. Once in the gut, once on the shoulder and then a clean shot to the jaw. I know, I asked her. So, why are you so sure that if you ever fight anyone you’ll kill them?”
“Some things you just know.”
“Do you get angry, like you want to hurt someone, or something?”
“God, no, I would never want to hurt anyone.”
“So what makes you so afraid of your own temper? I’ve only ever seen you take it out on the heavy bag.”
“But if I didn’t do that, I’d never be okay in public.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I used to be angry all the time!” Jensen launched himself off the wall. “I would just fight. A ‘scrapper’, my dad called me, just a little kid hurling himself into the middle of a mess of trouble. When I came home with a bad report card, a broken hand and a black eye my dad started to teach me how to box. Then I got good, so when people wanted to fight me… it’s like they would come at me in slow motion, I’d just see their next move, block it.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you in the zone.”
Jensen nodded. “So then everyone wanted to fight me. To prove I wasn’t so great. Not just kids in my grade. I was in junior high, and kids in high school were trying to take me on.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, so every afternoon I was waling on some kid, just protecting myself. My dad said if I tried to run or hide, they’d find me and I’d be running forever.”
“This happened all through school?”
“No, like a year later it stopped and then everyone just… it was like those old westerns where everyone moves aside and refuses to look the bad guy in the eye. Well, I was the bad guy. No one talked to me. Girls who went for the bad boy did, but…”
“You’re not really into girls.”
“No, or boys then; I just wanted to be left alone, so it was okay. I knew I shouldn’t, couldn’t fight anyone. Everyone was so sure I was gonna really hurt someone. I’d put on six inches and 50 lbs and I must have looked kinda rough in old hand-me-downs and I was always looking out for someone to ambush me. So I guess I figured they were right. I mean, I was always wrong, and everyone else seemed to get through life without fucking up like I do, they must know something I don’t.
”That was years ago. Before my dad got sick, before I wrote those checks.”
“But you’ve never actually hurt someone seriously while fighting?”
“Just one guy in prison, but he had a shiv.”
“He was trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know, but he tried to stab me between the ribs, so I broke his arm.”
“Christ. I’m glad you had the training.”
“If I didn’t have the training he wouldn’t have taken me on. I wouldn’t have had to fall in with the group I did.”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know, probably just paired up with someone in a gang, stayed safe.”
“How is that different than what you did/”
“I was with the head of the gang. They thought I had power.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Being the slave of a powerful man still makes you a slave, and that’s what I was. He didn’t listen to me. I was a tool. He used me for the jobs I could do. I don’t want to go back.”
“You’re not going back.”
“If I oversleep again, or fuck up once. If I lose my job, or my room.”
“Well, we won’t let that happen. How much longer do you have 'til you’re clear?”
“About 13 months.”
“We can do that, right?”
“I’ll try.”
“We’ll try”
“We’ll try.”
“Better. Now do you want to go to the library?”
Jensen shrugged. “Lizzie’s gone for the day. She’s gonna be mad at me, and I can’t see her again 'til Monday, but I’m still tired. I should go home and sleep.”
“You can’t sleep here?”
“I…” Jensen thought about what he was going to say and the possible reactions. He tried his next sentence out experimentally.
“I can stay here and just sleep.”
Jared looked like he’d won the lottery. “Goddamned right you can. I’ll call Benny; tell him you won’t be in tonight.”
“Mmmm… I…” Jensen was asleep before he finished his sentence.
Jensen went back to the library and work the next day and over the weekend he gained some strength and recuperated.
By Monday he was back to forty minutes of mindless violence in the morning followed by two hours of weight training. Then showering and sex, lots and lots of sex.
Jared tried to see that followed by some sleep. He knew Jensen wasn’t sleeping at home much, but Jensen was too nervous about tonight. Drinks for Ronnie’s birthday, nothing major, but Jared knew that telling that to Jensen would be pointless. Instead he tried to distract him with anything he could think of: blowjobs, movies where things blew up. Jared even put in the UFC game on his X box. Once Jensen learned the moves he was good, but not as good as he was on the floor. His training didn’t reach as far as his instinct.
After his fifth straight loss to the game he dropped the controller and looked over at Jared. “I think we should just forget about tonight. You go, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jared didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Bullshit. You’re going. I’m not gonna be the only single guy there.”
“Jared, this is… this isn’t the kind of thing I’m good at.”
“Really, because I’ve always considered you such a social butterfly.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little, yeah. You think I don’t know you don’t want to go, and that you’re scared?”
“’M not scared, just… don’t want to embarrass you.”
“This is Ronnie and Bowie, both of whom have seen you go into a blind rage over a tackling dummy. And two people who choose to live with Ronnie and Bowie. I think you’re safe.”
“But…”
“You’re going.” Jared leaned forward into Jensen's space, kissing his mouth, his temple, his ear. “I can leave it on.” He pressed his fingers around the wrist band. “Would that make you feel safer?”
Jensen nodded against Jared's shoulder. “Means you won’t leave me there.”
“I wouldn’t anyway, but yeah, if you need it.”
“I do, tonight I do.”
“Okay then.”
Jensen tried to convince himself that if he could make it through a year in prison, he could make it through drinks with three people he knew and two he didn’t. Sometimes he believed it. Sometimes he didn’t.
They went back to Jensen's to get the sweater from Thanksgiving. He paired it with jeans and felt like a fraud. Jared kissed him stupid against the door to his apartment and Jensen almost succeeded in derailing the evening and just getting them naked in bed until his landlord knocked. He groaned but grabbed his cash and handed it to him, taking his receipt.
“Rent’s going up after the first by ten bucks a week. I’ll have a new lease for you to sign.”
Jensen exhaled slowly and nodded. He’d have to make some financial adjustments. Forty bucks a month. He couldn’t leave the gym. He’d just have to be more frugal about food and clothing and other non-necessities.
Jared was staring at him as he tucked his money back under the drawer. “What?”
“You’re gonna be paying $640.00 a month for this shithole. You know you could get a real apartment, or even rent a house, for less than that.”
“It wouldn’t include utilities.”
“It wouldn’t smell like cabbage and mold.”
“You want me to move?”
Jared shook his head. “No, you’re fine. You like it here, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s an address. I had to have one. Rules of Parole.”
“Well, okay, let’s go to the bar, have a few drinks and wish Ronnie a happy birthday.”
“I can’t drink. Might show up on the test.”
“But you’re allowed to drink on parole.”
“I don’t want to risk it.”
“Tonic with lime it is.”
Jensen smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Putting up with me.”
“Oh, that, yeah, believe me when I tell you it’s my pleasure”
The bar was around the corner from the gym. As a result, a lot of members were there. Some stopped by to wish Ronnie a Happy Birthday; others were there for their own reasons.
They grabbed a table in the back and placed their orders. Jensen was jittery.
Jared put a hand on his knee under the table. “What’s up?”
“All of these people and… don’t touch me, they’ll know. They’ll…”
“Shhh, they either already know, or they’ll never put it together. Anyone who’s seen us at the gym has to know that at the very least, you’re my personal project.”
“Yeah, but that’s different from…”
“Jensen, relax. We’re okay. They’ll just assume we’re out with friends, which, by the way, is true.”
Jensen looked around, didn’t see anyone staring and nodded, taking a long drink from his glass.
They all started with a round of wishing Ronnie a happy birthday, and then moved on to a round to wish Ronnie many more. Then they did a round celebrating how many on their roster qualified this last go round, (4) and that they were getting a higher caliber fighter in the club. Jared tipped his drink to Jensen on that one.
Then there were shots.
Then there were gifts, and laughs and more shots and Jensen was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. He’d never really seen Jared out of control and if something happened now, Jared wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Jensen's eyes scanned the crowd the same way they did at work, looking for one person breaking off from a group. One group moving in unison towards them, one glint of metal that could mean trouble. He leaned forward, his shoulder in front of Jared's, making sure the first thing they saw, or hit, was him.
He waited, but as his table mates got drunker, and he got more vigilant, nothing happened.
Bowie almost lost his hand when he dropped it heavily on Jensen's shoulder. “So, you and me, we’re gonna dance.”
“That’s what I hear.” Jensen drained his tonic water.
“Probably gonna wipe the floor with you.” Bowie was slurring his words.
Jensen nodded. “Probably.”
Bowie laughed, almost a cackle, his head thrown back, his blond hair falling behind him. He grinned. “Fun.”
“Yep.”
When they finally left, Jensen was glad they were in walking distance. He didn’t have a driver’s license and Jared was difficult enough to steer when he was walking drunk.
Ronnie had called a cab, and Michelle, Bowie’s girlfriend, had a friend pick them up. Jensen, his due diligence done, walked Jared home.
“Terrible boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Supposed to help you meet my friends. Got drunk. I’mmmm drunuck”
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”
Jared nodded seriously. “Tottalllllly shifasssssedd. Waaaaasted.”
Jensen dug the key out of Jared's pocket and unlocked the door. “Yeah, I think you are.”
“Was supposed to take care of you.”
“I’m a grown man.”
Jared mentioned something about Jensen needing him and getting scared and being a bad Dom, a terrible boyfriend and being sorry.
Jensen handed him a large bottle of water.
“Drink this and then pass out, we’ll worry about the rest later.”
“Gotta worry. Love Jensen, so gotta worry. Jensen's worrisome. Worrisome Jensen. Didn’t have to worry before. Didn’t love Jensen.”
Jared moaned and opened his eyes slowly, only to slam them shut again, and even the noise of his eyelashes hitting his cheeks seemed loud.
“Here.”
His eyes flew open this time. Jensen was holding out a cup of coffee and aspirin. “I got donuts.”
Jared struggled to sit up; fuck, how much had he had to drink? He took the coffee gratefully and gulped it down with the pain killers. He had a few questions, but took a couple minutes to come back to the land of the living. When he tried to stand up Jensen put a hand on his chest. “Waddaya need?”
“To pee and maybe hurl.”
Jensen blushed. “Oh.” And took a step back, letting him up.
When Jared came back he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and grabbed a donut. “Thanks for these.”
“Anytime.”
Jared sat at the table. “You know, I really didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“You’re always taking care of me. Figured I could return the favor.”
“Thank you.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, then, have a donut and relax. You look like you think I’m gonna kick you out.”
“No, just… you think I’m worrisome.”
“Is that news?”
“I don’t want to be just a responsibility.”
“You’re not. You’re much more than a responsibility.”
“But…”
“Trust me. You’re my favorite part of every day.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
“Oh. Well… I was going to go…”
“Beat up on some equipment?”
“Yeah.” Jensen ducked his head.
“Well, Ronnie’s probably there already, she’ll let you in. I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Sure.”
Late in the afternoon on Sunday, Ronnie and Jared were acting as corner men for Bowie and Jensen, respectively.
The gym was mostly empty, and this was nothing more than an academic exercise at this point, or so Jared kept saying. Jensen wasn’t sure what that even meant.
He met Bowie in the middle of the ring and the match began. Jensen felt that same panic rise up as he always did when faced with the need to defend or protect himself, but this time Jared was in his corner.
Bowie came towards him and Jensen landed two fast kicks to his thigh and then swung a punch to his face. While Bowie straightened his head and squared his shoulders, Jensen took him down, hooking his legs around Bowie’s torso and holding tight.
Bowie fought back, using his solid but surprisingly agile frame to twist away from Jensen’s leg hold and wrap his own arm around Jensen's neck, putting pressure on his artery.
Jensen felt the world gray out, and in his panic ripped Bowie away from him and landed him on his back, Jensen's arms holding Bowie in a full guard.
Bowie flipped them both over, using his legs to hold Jensen to the mat. Jensen countered and so it went.
The round was three minutes long. At 2:58 Bowie tapped out, with Jensen's knee pressing into Bowie’s neck.
Bowie stood up, blood covering his teeth, sweat in his eyes, and tapped gloves with Jensen. “Good control.”
Jensen nodded and returned to his own corner, to Jared, taking a long drink from the water bottle, the metallic taste of blood still coating his mouth after several gulps.
Jared's hands were on his shoulders. “You did great. That was… amazing. Good control, textbook maneuvers. You’re a natural born fighter.”
Jensen nodded, wiping the sweat off his face where it was stinging his eyes.
“I’m good at hurting people.”
“Hey, that’s not what I said.”
“True though.” He motioned with his head to Bowie. “You picked him because I shouldn’t have been able to do more than a couple minutes with him.”
‘True.”
“And I won on a TKO.”
“Yes, you did.”
“So, good at hurting people.”
“Jen.”
“I’m going home now.”
Jensen changed quickly and left, the cold December air buffeting him as he walked home. The whole time he ran through what he’d done what he’d fucked up, how he could have done it better and tried to forget how it felt to have a man pinned down and at his mercy. The panic had never receded. He hated that part.
He wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t focus on a book; instead, he just paced the small room back and forth until the adrenaline receded and he tried to get some sleep. Four hours later he was awake and reading at the table. He never got back to sleep again that night.
The next day he went to the gym, afraid Jared would know how freaked out he was if he didn’t.
Jared seemed to know anyway, and after two hours of working out he showered and dressed quickly.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“You left your jacket here last night.”
“Oh.”
“So you walked home wet and sweaty in below freezing temperatures. Kind of makes me think I missed something.”
“I just forgot my jacket. It’s not a sign of the apocalypse.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so, see you tomorrow?”
“What? Maybe. I um, have stuff to do.”
“Yeah, okay, can I have a kiss before you leave?”
“If you want one.”
Jared pulled him in by his jacket; the one Lizzie had given him like he was a charity case. He kissed him and Jensen couldn’t help but respond. “Mmmm, that’s nice.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah.”
Jensen left.
Three weeks later Jensen had fought at over a dozen fights, some against Bowie, some against other gym members. He was undefeated and it all had a very familiar feel. People staring at him, trying to get him to take them on in a fight, watching him every time he worked out, following his routine. He could barely touch Jared in public, they were too public, and it didn’t help that he always seemed to have a black eye, a large bruise, a cut or gash somewhere.
He came into the library and Lizzie gasped. “Jensen, what are you doing to yourself?”
Jensen shrugged. “Ain’t me. It’s the guys trying to pin me that are doin’ this.”
She put a hand over his. “Go sit down, I’ll get you some books.”
“I thought you weren’t gonna do that anymore.”
“Well, today I think it’d be a good idea if you sit down. Does that boyfriend of yours think this is okay?”
“It’s his gym, Lizzie.”
She came back twenty minutes later with four books and sat in the carrel next to him, turning her chair to face Jensen. “So, I guess you got over your fear of fighting.”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Still worried?”
“A little, but I haven’t hurt anyone too bad, yet.”
“Well, if you’re willing to fight, to face that fear, maybe you’ll think about taking that GED class that starts after the New Year? Anyone who reads as much as you should love learning.”
“I don’t hate learning. It’s classrooms. The teachers are always mean.”
“Jensen, that’s not fair, and you’re an adult now, this is a class for adults. Will you at least consider it?”
He sighed. “Print the registration form and I’ll talk to Jared about it.”
Lizzie handed him the form, which was already folded on top of his books. “Give it the benefit of the doubt.”
He nodded.
Jared watched Jensen pace, biting his nail. He was wearing nothing but an old pair of Jared's fleece pajama bottoms and the wrist bands.
“So?”
“So?”
“Should I take the course?”
“I can’t tell you what to do on this one.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to be able to make some decisions on your own, and this is one of them. Do you want to get your GED?”
“I don’t know. I just… there’ll be a classroom, and a teacher, and maybe like, chalk. I hate all that.”
“Because when you were a kid your life sucked in and out of the classroom?”
“Well, yeah, plus, it’s from nine to twelve every day for six weeks. When am I gonna work out?”
“After twelve, or like you do every day, way before nine.”
“But...”
“Okay, here, grab that tablet and make two columns, pros and cons.”
“Which ones are the good ones again?”
“Okay, yeses and nos. “
“Fine. What goes under yes?”
“You tell me.”
“Something to do during the day.”
“Good point.”
“Can change my PO appointment because it’s allowed if you’re getting your GED, or going for training; I looked it up.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I don’t test well.”
“Okay, a no. Who said you don’t test well?”
“My mother.”
Jared knew better than to argue that. Besides, he really had no idea how Jensen tested.
“Could get a different job, maybe.”
“Okay, we’ve got a lot of yeses and the only no seems to be that you’re afraid you won’t do well, or like it.”
“That’s a big no.”
“It’s your decision. Can you afford it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of grand saved up and it’s only $250.00.”
“What?”
“Is that too much?”
“You have a couple of grand? Please tell me it’s not taped under a drawer in your room.”
“It’s safe there, and I don’t trust the banks.”
“Jensen. What do you spend your money on?”
“Food, rent, I buy a bus pass and the minutes for my phone every month.”
“And that’s it.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to lose my address. If you lose your job you get a few weeks to find another one, but you can’t be homeless. So…”
“Okay, so you tell me what you want to do about the GED, but you and me, we’re going to the bank tomorrow to get you an account.
“But…”
“This one I can’t leave up to you. Jensen, you need to have your money someplace more secure than your room. You don’t have to get a debit card or anything. Just a regular account and maybe an ATM card.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re pouting.”
“Am not.”
Jared kissed him, pushing him backwards toward the bed with the force of his body, his lips, and his desire. “Are too.”
Jensen fell back onto the bed and Jared followed him. “Can I see if I can make you smile?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Pouting again.” He tugged at Jensen's lip. “It’d be cute except you’re angry over something that’s for your own good. I’m not backing down on this one.”
“Why do you even care?’
“Because I care about you.”
“You do?”
“I do. Have I made that unclear? Christ.” Jared pushed himself up on an elbow and ran a hand through his hair. “Have I really made that unclear? I care about you. I fucking think about you all the time. I thought I told you I loved you when I was drunk.”
“People don’t always mean what they say when they’re drunk.”
“I fucking love you.”
“Oh.”
Jared noticed that Jensen didn’t say it back, and held out hopes that he’d say it in his own time but for now, Jensen wasn’t trying to run away, and that was more important. He went back to kissing Jensen until all that he could reasonably expect from him were moans and pleas.
Jensen went to Shoney’s for Christmas. It was the same salty over-processed food he remembered. He did his best not to let emotion overwhelm him 'til he got home, back to his one room apartment.
Jared was with his family. Lizzie’s sister had hosted Christmas Eve, and Christmas day was all about the kids. Jensen had bought Lizzie a gift, and one for each of her kids. He’d been stumped as to what to buy Jared but had eventually settled on the official replica of Muhammad Ali’s first robe. Lizzie had showed him how to order it with his new checking account. He wouldn’t be able to give it to him 'til after the holidays, which would be the first chance they had to be together in almost a week.
He came home and turned on the television. There was nothing on TV but Christmas specials. Nothing to do. He picked up one of the three extra books he’d checked out of the library and tried to read and pretend that the rest of the world wasn’t with their family today and that he wasn’t the only one left reading alone in his room.
Next
Previous
Free Counters
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Word Count: 6000+/-
Summary Jensen is an ex-con with a clean slate. Jared owns an MMA gym. They like each other, a lot.
A/N: This fic is complete in eight parts. I will post on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
TKO One ~ TKO Two ~ TKO Three ~ TKO Four ~ TKO Five ~ TKO Six ~ TKO Seven ~ TKO Eight
Thanks to: passing_through for the beta work. Even when you didn’t get it, you were there for the story. Thank you darlin’
Graphics by: Raeschae
TKO
Round Seven
Jensen let himself into his apartment. His landlord was at his door in seconds. Jensen paid him for the previous week and the upcoming week and winced. Having missed that much work was a problem. He smiled to the landlord who craned his neck, looking for a rental agreement violation. Jensen knew there weren’t any.
He fell back on his bed, and when he woke up it was twenty minutes later. He grabbed all of his clothes, pushed them into an old duffle and headed to the Laundromat. He’d moved everything but his new dress pants, which said “do not put in dryer” into the dryer when his phone rang.
“You okay?”
“You just dropped me off an hour ago. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I just wanted to check.”
“Jared, what’s going on?”
Jared was silent for a few moments. “The last time you were out of my sight, you made yourself sick running around trying to leave the city. I want to make sure you’ll be here tomorrow to work out in the morning.”
“I will, but I’m out of practice after four days. I’m going to have to do some serious weight training.”
“No problem. Where are you, it sounds weird.”
“I’m at the Laundromat. Some of us like to smell like something other than an old gym.”
“Hey!”
Jensen smiled at Jared's amused indignation, and realized that everyone’s talk about progress was starting to sink in. He actually felt comfortable joking with Jared, and Jared felt comfortable letting him.
“I have to get my stuff out of the dryer, but… I’ll be by tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
“Yeah.”
Jensen got to work a half hour early and was immodestly hugged hard and long by Amy. “Jensen, I was so worried. Thank you so much, I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. Just… thank you. Benny says dinner, whatever you want.”
“What’s the regular staff dinner?”
“Fettuccini Alfredo.”
“That’s fine, I can…”
“Jensen, you saved my life, get a steak!”
Jensen turned to Benny. “Hi.” He hunched his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“You eat salad?”
Jensen nodded.
“How about green beans?” Jensen nodded again.
“Potatoes?” Jensen nodded again, not sure where this was going.
Benny turned to Amy. “Get him the rib-eye, medium rare with all the trimmings. Jensen and I are going to sit down and have a talk.”
Jensen let Benny lead him to a table in the back. Amy brought him tonic water with lime, his usual, and Benny had a scotch and soda. “So, Lizzie doesn’t think I’m taking care of you.”
“You are. I mean, I don’t need taking care of.”
“So how do you like working the door?”
Jensen could feel the cold trickle of sweat run down his back. “It’s what I’m good at.”
“No doubt, but how do you like it.”
“I’m just… I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”
“Well, good, I don’t want you to hurt anyone. You know that, right? I fired Donny because all he wanted was to beat on people. You, you do everything you can to avoid that. You’ve only had to lay hands on customers a couple of times. That’s what I like.”
Jensen felt himself relax a little as Amy brought out their salads and bread. “You’re doing a good job here kiddo. You know that, right?”
Jensen shrugged and Benny held up his glass. Jensen held his up to clink them. “To you, best bouncer I’ve had in a while.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, you’re the one not beatin’ the snot outta my customers.”
Jensen ducked his head and focused on the salad.
By the end of the night he was tired. More tired than usual, the flu apparently having taken more out of him than he’d thought.
He walked home slowly, listening for echoing footsteps, paranoid. But he got home safely and didn’t even bother to open a book, just fell asleep fully clothed.
The next day he went to the gym but his stamina was shot to hell. A half hour into practicing his kick boxing accuracy Jared sent him to the showers, well, Jared's showers, in Jared's house, but the upshot was the same. Jensen emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I should… “He stopped; Jared hated sentences that started with ‘should’. “I um… I’m still weak.”
“From being sick. It’s expected. I got some new training discs in, wanna watch?”
“I gotta get to the library, I skipped a few days.”
“Lizzie knows why, knows you’re okay.”
“Yeah but… I mean, I can’t…”
“Hold up. You think that because you’re not up to sex, I don’t want you hanging around?”
Jensen had a feeling that an honest answer was gonna get him a lecture so he remained silent, but he could hear Jared’s frustrated sighs anyway. “I like you here, sick or healthy, naked or clothed, so just decide where you want to be. If you want to go to the library, I get it. You like it there, and I want you to have that. I won’t be mad.”
Jensen sat down. “I wanna see the new training methods.”
By two Jensen was waking up from where he’d dozed on Jared's shoulder. “Shit, I’m so…”
“Do not fucking apologize.”
“I’m not allowed to be sorry?”
“Not for everything, no.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, so, you want something for lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“I think I should go to the library, and tomorrow I have to go see my PO.”
“On a Saturday?” Jared's forehead wrinkled.
“Saturday? Today’s Thursday.”
“Nope, it’s Friday.”
“Oh my god, Oh god, Oh god, I was supposed to see him at nine thirty, it’s… almost three, oh god, he’s gonna, I’m…”Jensen looked up at Jared, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m going back to prison.”
Jared grabbed his shoulders. “Listen to me; that am not going to happen, okay. No way, not because you got sick, and missed one appointment.”
“That’s all it takes, one appointment and then you’re done. Back inside. Back to…”
“Let’s go.”
‘Where? You want me to run?”
Jared actually did want him to run, but knew it was the same panic that was overwhelming Jensen at the moment.
“Jensen, get in the car. We’ll go, you’ll be late, you’ll give a urine sample if you have to, and you’ll see, they won’t send you back to jail. They let you out for overcrowding, they’re not gonna put you back in for having a cold.”
Jensen looked unconvinced but followed Jared out to the car. He fidgeted for the first mile until Jared gripped his hand. “Breathe, you’ll be okay.”
The complex was crowded and loud and Jared started to really understand how disoriented Jensen got in this environment. He was shaking, and reached for Jared's hand twice before snatching his hand back quickly, afraid of people’s reactions.
They waited in line and Jared could hear the PO from across the room.
“You’re late; I can violate you for that. You’re lucky you showed up at all, you don’t, I’ll find your ass and throw it right back inside. Probably not so bad in there for you huh, you can fight; you got that girly face, probably just what they’re looking for.”
Jared's fists balled. He remained leaning against the wall, not saying a word. But it was a close call.
“You give me a sample, show me you ain’t been wasting your time gettin’ high, and proof you’re still employed and we’ll keep this as a note in your file and nothing else.”
Jared let out a breath and Jensen followed the man off to a separate room. When he came back he handed a sheet of paper from his wallet to his PO. A copy was made, and Jensen was free to go. When they got halfway down the hall Jensen stopped, gripping the side rail tightly. His face was gray, his knuckles were white.
“Jensen?”
Jensen opened his mouth, and then his legs buckled. Jared caught him quickly. “Hey, Jensen, c’mon.”
Jensen opened his eyes and stood up, walking a little crookedly, swaying slightly. Jared hung close and inhaled deeply, guiding Jensen back to the car.
He took Jensen back to his place.
Jensen was groggy and a little pale the whole ride. “He could still violate me. All that cold medicine. Looks like crank in the system.”
“Jensen! Stop! You didn’t do crank. You had a cold. I know you’re scared, but it’s okay. I promise it’s okay.”
“You can’t promise that.” But Jensen's skin was white as paper, his freckles dark, almost black against his skin, and his voice was slurred so Jared ignored the statement, made sure Jensen didn’t try to climb out of the truck himself and helped Jensen inside, putting him to bed.
At five Bowie came by. “Haven’t seen you much lately.”
“Yeah, Jensen's been sick. Sorry. We still on for Monday?”
“Yeah, you get Ronnie anything?”
“Day at a spa to act like a girl. You?”
“New weight training belt.”
“Perfect. So, what’s up?”
“Nothing, you gonna invite me in?”
“Jensen's sleeping and he’s kinda…”
“He thinks I want to kick his ass.”
“No, but I think I want you to let him try.”
“What?”
“He needs to fight, not just spar, and there’s no way he’s gonna take a shot at me. I need you to fight him, I mean, in a ring, rules and rounds and points.”
“I’ll tear him apart.”
Jared smirked, “you can try, but everyone in the club who’s seen him fight wants a piece of him, they’ll go for blood. I want you to go for the TKO.”
“And if I draw blood, you gonna get upset?”
“Nope. If you win, fair and square, then we’re all good.”
“And if he does?”
“Also all good. I just need someone he trusts, someone I trust.”
“Yeah, okay, let me know when, but you know I still think this might be a huge mistake, right?”
“I’ve heard your objections, and they have been noted and considered.”
“Fuck you.”
“I think that’s what I just said.”
Bowie laughed. “So, you comin’ back to work anytime soon?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Cool.”
Jensen listened and blinked, trying to focus. When he heard the door roll shut he slid out of bed and into a pair of sweats from the floor. He tied the knot tight but they still rode low on his hips. He yawned and Jared was at his side in seconds. “You should probably get back in bed.”
“Was that Bowie?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to fight Bowie?”
“Well, this wasn’t how I was going to bring it up, but, yes.”
“Like, in a ring?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll kill me, he’s better than I am.”
“That’s not what you’re afraid of.”
Jensen leaned against the wall. “He’ll get hurt, what if… what if I can’t stop?”
“Jensen, listen to me, you are not some mindless killing machine. When you took down Amy’s ex, you hit him three times. Once in the gut, once on the shoulder and then a clean shot to the jaw. I know, I asked her. So, why are you so sure that if you ever fight anyone you’ll kill them?”
“Some things you just know.”
“Do you get angry, like you want to hurt someone, or something?”
“God, no, I would never want to hurt anyone.”
“So what makes you so afraid of your own temper? I’ve only ever seen you take it out on the heavy bag.”
“But if I didn’t do that, I’d never be okay in public.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I used to be angry all the time!” Jensen launched himself off the wall. “I would just fight. A ‘scrapper’, my dad called me, just a little kid hurling himself into the middle of a mess of trouble. When I came home with a bad report card, a broken hand and a black eye my dad started to teach me how to box. Then I got good, so when people wanted to fight me… it’s like they would come at me in slow motion, I’d just see their next move, block it.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you in the zone.”
Jensen nodded. “So then everyone wanted to fight me. To prove I wasn’t so great. Not just kids in my grade. I was in junior high, and kids in high school were trying to take me on.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, so every afternoon I was waling on some kid, just protecting myself. My dad said if I tried to run or hide, they’d find me and I’d be running forever.”
“This happened all through school?”
“No, like a year later it stopped and then everyone just… it was like those old westerns where everyone moves aside and refuses to look the bad guy in the eye. Well, I was the bad guy. No one talked to me. Girls who went for the bad boy did, but…”
“You’re not really into girls.”
“No, or boys then; I just wanted to be left alone, so it was okay. I knew I shouldn’t, couldn’t fight anyone. Everyone was so sure I was gonna really hurt someone. I’d put on six inches and 50 lbs and I must have looked kinda rough in old hand-me-downs and I was always looking out for someone to ambush me. So I guess I figured they were right. I mean, I was always wrong, and everyone else seemed to get through life without fucking up like I do, they must know something I don’t.
”That was years ago. Before my dad got sick, before I wrote those checks.”
“But you’ve never actually hurt someone seriously while fighting?”
“Just one guy in prison, but he had a shiv.”
“He was trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know, but he tried to stab me between the ribs, so I broke his arm.”
“Christ. I’m glad you had the training.”
“If I didn’t have the training he wouldn’t have taken me on. I wouldn’t have had to fall in with the group I did.”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know, probably just paired up with someone in a gang, stayed safe.”
“How is that different than what you did/”
“I was with the head of the gang. They thought I had power.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Being the slave of a powerful man still makes you a slave, and that’s what I was. He didn’t listen to me. I was a tool. He used me for the jobs I could do. I don’t want to go back.”
“You’re not going back.”
“If I oversleep again, or fuck up once. If I lose my job, or my room.”
“Well, we won’t let that happen. How much longer do you have 'til you’re clear?”
“About 13 months.”
“We can do that, right?”
“I’ll try.”
“We’ll try”
“We’ll try.”
“Better. Now do you want to go to the library?”
Jensen shrugged. “Lizzie’s gone for the day. She’s gonna be mad at me, and I can’t see her again 'til Monday, but I’m still tired. I should go home and sleep.”
“You can’t sleep here?”
“I…” Jensen thought about what he was going to say and the possible reactions. He tried his next sentence out experimentally.
“I can stay here and just sleep.”
Jared looked like he’d won the lottery. “Goddamned right you can. I’ll call Benny; tell him you won’t be in tonight.”
“Mmmm… I…” Jensen was asleep before he finished his sentence.
Jensen went back to the library and work the next day and over the weekend he gained some strength and recuperated.
By Monday he was back to forty minutes of mindless violence in the morning followed by two hours of weight training. Then showering and sex, lots and lots of sex.
Jared tried to see that followed by some sleep. He knew Jensen wasn’t sleeping at home much, but Jensen was too nervous about tonight. Drinks for Ronnie’s birthday, nothing major, but Jared knew that telling that to Jensen would be pointless. Instead he tried to distract him with anything he could think of: blowjobs, movies where things blew up. Jared even put in the UFC game on his X box. Once Jensen learned the moves he was good, but not as good as he was on the floor. His training didn’t reach as far as his instinct.
After his fifth straight loss to the game he dropped the controller and looked over at Jared. “I think we should just forget about tonight. You go, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jared didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Bullshit. You’re going. I’m not gonna be the only single guy there.”
“Jared, this is… this isn’t the kind of thing I’m good at.”
“Really, because I’ve always considered you such a social butterfly.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little, yeah. You think I don’t know you don’t want to go, and that you’re scared?”
“’M not scared, just… don’t want to embarrass you.”
“This is Ronnie and Bowie, both of whom have seen you go into a blind rage over a tackling dummy. And two people who choose to live with Ronnie and Bowie. I think you’re safe.”
“But…”
“You’re going.” Jared leaned forward into Jensen's space, kissing his mouth, his temple, his ear. “I can leave it on.” He pressed his fingers around the wrist band. “Would that make you feel safer?”
Jensen nodded against Jared's shoulder. “Means you won’t leave me there.”
“I wouldn’t anyway, but yeah, if you need it.”
“I do, tonight I do.”
“Okay then.”
Jensen tried to convince himself that if he could make it through a year in prison, he could make it through drinks with three people he knew and two he didn’t. Sometimes he believed it. Sometimes he didn’t.
They went back to Jensen's to get the sweater from Thanksgiving. He paired it with jeans and felt like a fraud. Jared kissed him stupid against the door to his apartment and Jensen almost succeeded in derailing the evening and just getting them naked in bed until his landlord knocked. He groaned but grabbed his cash and handed it to him, taking his receipt.
“Rent’s going up after the first by ten bucks a week. I’ll have a new lease for you to sign.”
Jensen exhaled slowly and nodded. He’d have to make some financial adjustments. Forty bucks a month. He couldn’t leave the gym. He’d just have to be more frugal about food and clothing and other non-necessities.
Jared was staring at him as he tucked his money back under the drawer. “What?”
“You’re gonna be paying $640.00 a month for this shithole. You know you could get a real apartment, or even rent a house, for less than that.”
“It wouldn’t include utilities.”
“It wouldn’t smell like cabbage and mold.”
“You want me to move?”
Jared shook his head. “No, you’re fine. You like it here, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s an address. I had to have one. Rules of Parole.”
“Well, okay, let’s go to the bar, have a few drinks and wish Ronnie a happy birthday.”
“I can’t drink. Might show up on the test.”
“But you’re allowed to drink on parole.”
“I don’t want to risk it.”
“Tonic with lime it is.”
Jensen smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Putting up with me.”
“Oh, that, yeah, believe me when I tell you it’s my pleasure”
The bar was around the corner from the gym. As a result, a lot of members were there. Some stopped by to wish Ronnie a Happy Birthday; others were there for their own reasons.
They grabbed a table in the back and placed their orders. Jensen was jittery.
Jared put a hand on his knee under the table. “What’s up?”
“All of these people and… don’t touch me, they’ll know. They’ll…”
“Shhh, they either already know, or they’ll never put it together. Anyone who’s seen us at the gym has to know that at the very least, you’re my personal project.”
“Yeah, but that’s different from…”
“Jensen, relax. We’re okay. They’ll just assume we’re out with friends, which, by the way, is true.”
Jensen looked around, didn’t see anyone staring and nodded, taking a long drink from his glass.
They all started with a round of wishing Ronnie a happy birthday, and then moved on to a round to wish Ronnie many more. Then they did a round celebrating how many on their roster qualified this last go round, (4) and that they were getting a higher caliber fighter in the club. Jared tipped his drink to Jensen on that one.
Then there were shots.
Then there were gifts, and laughs and more shots and Jensen was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. He’d never really seen Jared out of control and if something happened now, Jared wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Jensen's eyes scanned the crowd the same way they did at work, looking for one person breaking off from a group. One group moving in unison towards them, one glint of metal that could mean trouble. He leaned forward, his shoulder in front of Jared's, making sure the first thing they saw, or hit, was him.
He waited, but as his table mates got drunker, and he got more vigilant, nothing happened.
Bowie almost lost his hand when he dropped it heavily on Jensen's shoulder. “So, you and me, we’re gonna dance.”
“That’s what I hear.” Jensen drained his tonic water.
“Probably gonna wipe the floor with you.” Bowie was slurring his words.
Jensen nodded. “Probably.”
Bowie laughed, almost a cackle, his head thrown back, his blond hair falling behind him. He grinned. “Fun.”
“Yep.”
When they finally left, Jensen was glad they were in walking distance. He didn’t have a driver’s license and Jared was difficult enough to steer when he was walking drunk.
Ronnie had called a cab, and Michelle, Bowie’s girlfriend, had a friend pick them up. Jensen, his due diligence done, walked Jared home.
“Terrible boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Supposed to help you meet my friends. Got drunk. I’mmmm drunuck”
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”
Jared nodded seriously. “Tottalllllly shifasssssedd. Waaaaasted.”
Jensen dug the key out of Jared's pocket and unlocked the door. “Yeah, I think you are.”
“Was supposed to take care of you.”
“I’m a grown man.”
Jared mentioned something about Jensen needing him and getting scared and being a bad Dom, a terrible boyfriend and being sorry.
Jensen handed him a large bottle of water.
“Drink this and then pass out, we’ll worry about the rest later.”
“Gotta worry. Love Jensen, so gotta worry. Jensen's worrisome. Worrisome Jensen. Didn’t have to worry before. Didn’t love Jensen.”
Jared moaned and opened his eyes slowly, only to slam them shut again, and even the noise of his eyelashes hitting his cheeks seemed loud.
“Here.”
His eyes flew open this time. Jensen was holding out a cup of coffee and aspirin. “I got donuts.”
Jared struggled to sit up; fuck, how much had he had to drink? He took the coffee gratefully and gulped it down with the pain killers. He had a few questions, but took a couple minutes to come back to the land of the living. When he tried to stand up Jensen put a hand on his chest. “Waddaya need?”
“To pee and maybe hurl.”
Jensen blushed. “Oh.” And took a step back, letting him up.
When Jared came back he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and grabbed a donut. “Thanks for these.”
“Anytime.”
Jared sat at the table. “You know, I really didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“You’re always taking care of me. Figured I could return the favor.”
“Thank you.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, then, have a donut and relax. You look like you think I’m gonna kick you out.”
“No, just… you think I’m worrisome.”
“Is that news?”
“I don’t want to be just a responsibility.”
“You’re not. You’re much more than a responsibility.”
“But…”
“Trust me. You’re my favorite part of every day.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
“Oh. Well… I was going to go…”
“Beat up on some equipment?”
“Yeah.” Jensen ducked his head.
“Well, Ronnie’s probably there already, she’ll let you in. I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Sure.”
Late in the afternoon on Sunday, Ronnie and Jared were acting as corner men for Bowie and Jensen, respectively.
The gym was mostly empty, and this was nothing more than an academic exercise at this point, or so Jared kept saying. Jensen wasn’t sure what that even meant.
He met Bowie in the middle of the ring and the match began. Jensen felt that same panic rise up as he always did when faced with the need to defend or protect himself, but this time Jared was in his corner.
Bowie came towards him and Jensen landed two fast kicks to his thigh and then swung a punch to his face. While Bowie straightened his head and squared his shoulders, Jensen took him down, hooking his legs around Bowie’s torso and holding tight.
Bowie fought back, using his solid but surprisingly agile frame to twist away from Jensen’s leg hold and wrap his own arm around Jensen's neck, putting pressure on his artery.
Jensen felt the world gray out, and in his panic ripped Bowie away from him and landed him on his back, Jensen's arms holding Bowie in a full guard.
Bowie flipped them both over, using his legs to hold Jensen to the mat. Jensen countered and so it went.
The round was three minutes long. At 2:58 Bowie tapped out, with Jensen's knee pressing into Bowie’s neck.
Bowie stood up, blood covering his teeth, sweat in his eyes, and tapped gloves with Jensen. “Good control.”
Jensen nodded and returned to his own corner, to Jared, taking a long drink from the water bottle, the metallic taste of blood still coating his mouth after several gulps.
Jared's hands were on his shoulders. “You did great. That was… amazing. Good control, textbook maneuvers. You’re a natural born fighter.”
Jensen nodded, wiping the sweat off his face where it was stinging his eyes.
“I’m good at hurting people.”
“Hey, that’s not what I said.”
“True though.” He motioned with his head to Bowie. “You picked him because I shouldn’t have been able to do more than a couple minutes with him.”
‘True.”
“And I won on a TKO.”
“Yes, you did.”
“So, good at hurting people.”
“Jen.”
“I’m going home now.”
Jensen changed quickly and left, the cold December air buffeting him as he walked home. The whole time he ran through what he’d done what he’d fucked up, how he could have done it better and tried to forget how it felt to have a man pinned down and at his mercy. The panic had never receded. He hated that part.
He wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t focus on a book; instead, he just paced the small room back and forth until the adrenaline receded and he tried to get some sleep. Four hours later he was awake and reading at the table. He never got back to sleep again that night.
The next day he went to the gym, afraid Jared would know how freaked out he was if he didn’t.
Jared seemed to know anyway, and after two hours of working out he showered and dressed quickly.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“You left your jacket here last night.”
“Oh.”
“So you walked home wet and sweaty in below freezing temperatures. Kind of makes me think I missed something.”
“I just forgot my jacket. It’s not a sign of the apocalypse.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so, see you tomorrow?”
“What? Maybe. I um, have stuff to do.”
“Yeah, okay, can I have a kiss before you leave?”
“If you want one.”
Jared pulled him in by his jacket; the one Lizzie had given him like he was a charity case. He kissed him and Jensen couldn’t help but respond. “Mmmm, that’s nice.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah.”
Jensen left.
Three weeks later Jensen had fought at over a dozen fights, some against Bowie, some against other gym members. He was undefeated and it all had a very familiar feel. People staring at him, trying to get him to take them on in a fight, watching him every time he worked out, following his routine. He could barely touch Jared in public, they were too public, and it didn’t help that he always seemed to have a black eye, a large bruise, a cut or gash somewhere.
He came into the library and Lizzie gasped. “Jensen, what are you doing to yourself?”
Jensen shrugged. “Ain’t me. It’s the guys trying to pin me that are doin’ this.”
She put a hand over his. “Go sit down, I’ll get you some books.”
“I thought you weren’t gonna do that anymore.”
“Well, today I think it’d be a good idea if you sit down. Does that boyfriend of yours think this is okay?”
“It’s his gym, Lizzie.”
She came back twenty minutes later with four books and sat in the carrel next to him, turning her chair to face Jensen. “So, I guess you got over your fear of fighting.”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Still worried?”
“A little, but I haven’t hurt anyone too bad, yet.”
“Well, if you’re willing to fight, to face that fear, maybe you’ll think about taking that GED class that starts after the New Year? Anyone who reads as much as you should love learning.”
“I don’t hate learning. It’s classrooms. The teachers are always mean.”
“Jensen, that’s not fair, and you’re an adult now, this is a class for adults. Will you at least consider it?”
He sighed. “Print the registration form and I’ll talk to Jared about it.”
Lizzie handed him the form, which was already folded on top of his books. “Give it the benefit of the doubt.”
He nodded.
Jared watched Jensen pace, biting his nail. He was wearing nothing but an old pair of Jared's fleece pajama bottoms and the wrist bands.
“So?”
“So?”
“Should I take the course?”
“I can’t tell you what to do on this one.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to be able to make some decisions on your own, and this is one of them. Do you want to get your GED?”
“I don’t know. I just… there’ll be a classroom, and a teacher, and maybe like, chalk. I hate all that.”
“Because when you were a kid your life sucked in and out of the classroom?”
“Well, yeah, plus, it’s from nine to twelve every day for six weeks. When am I gonna work out?”
“After twelve, or like you do every day, way before nine.”
“But...”
“Okay, here, grab that tablet and make two columns, pros and cons.”
“Which ones are the good ones again?”
“Okay, yeses and nos. “
“Fine. What goes under yes?”
“You tell me.”
“Something to do during the day.”
“Good point.”
“Can change my PO appointment because it’s allowed if you’re getting your GED, or going for training; I looked it up.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I don’t test well.”
“Okay, a no. Who said you don’t test well?”
“My mother.”
Jared knew better than to argue that. Besides, he really had no idea how Jensen tested.
“Could get a different job, maybe.”
“Okay, we’ve got a lot of yeses and the only no seems to be that you’re afraid you won’t do well, or like it.”
“That’s a big no.”
“It’s your decision. Can you afford it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of grand saved up and it’s only $250.00.”
“What?”
“Is that too much?”
“You have a couple of grand? Please tell me it’s not taped under a drawer in your room.”
“It’s safe there, and I don’t trust the banks.”
“Jensen. What do you spend your money on?”
“Food, rent, I buy a bus pass and the minutes for my phone every month.”
“And that’s it.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to lose my address. If you lose your job you get a few weeks to find another one, but you can’t be homeless. So…”
“Okay, so you tell me what you want to do about the GED, but you and me, we’re going to the bank tomorrow to get you an account.
“But…”
“This one I can’t leave up to you. Jensen, you need to have your money someplace more secure than your room. You don’t have to get a debit card or anything. Just a regular account and maybe an ATM card.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re pouting.”
“Am not.”
Jared kissed him, pushing him backwards toward the bed with the force of his body, his lips, and his desire. “Are too.”
Jensen fell back onto the bed and Jared followed him. “Can I see if I can make you smile?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Pouting again.” He tugged at Jensen's lip. “It’d be cute except you’re angry over something that’s for your own good. I’m not backing down on this one.”
“Why do you even care?’
“Because I care about you.”
“You do?”
“I do. Have I made that unclear? Christ.” Jared pushed himself up on an elbow and ran a hand through his hair. “Have I really made that unclear? I care about you. I fucking think about you all the time. I thought I told you I loved you when I was drunk.”
“People don’t always mean what they say when they’re drunk.”
“I fucking love you.”
“Oh.”
Jared noticed that Jensen didn’t say it back, and held out hopes that he’d say it in his own time but for now, Jensen wasn’t trying to run away, and that was more important. He went back to kissing Jensen until all that he could reasonably expect from him were moans and pleas.
Jensen went to Shoney’s for Christmas. It was the same salty over-processed food he remembered. He did his best not to let emotion overwhelm him 'til he got home, back to his one room apartment.
Jared was with his family. Lizzie’s sister had hosted Christmas Eve, and Christmas day was all about the kids. Jensen had bought Lizzie a gift, and one for each of her kids. He’d been stumped as to what to buy Jared but had eventually settled on the official replica of Muhammad Ali’s first robe. Lizzie had showed him how to order it with his new checking account. He wouldn’t be able to give it to him 'til after the holidays, which would be the first chance they had to be together in almost a week.
He came home and turned on the television. There was nothing on TV but Christmas specials. Nothing to do. He picked up one of the three extra books he’d checked out of the library and tried to read and pretend that the rest of the world wasn’t with their family today and that he wasn’t the only one left reading alone in his room.
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