Fic: 'These Remain Our Glory Days' (Jared/Jensen; NC-17) 2/3
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Artwork
PART TWO
(Jensen)
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
For a scientist, the fact that many of the important things in Jensen's life appeared to come by chance frustrate him.
Sure, there had to be a scientific explanation for his powers-no on radioactive bites or gamma rays, must be the genes-and yet the precise set of powers he had, well, there was no control over that. His parents had died early on, so he had very little to go on when it came to family backgrounds. Being thrust into the current life he has, as sidekick and heir to the throne of one of the greatest superheroes, Elastic Man, now that was also chance. The fact that he had no activities to get in the way of Saturday night watch tower duty, well, that was logical. He really did have no social life. But as chance had it, he's a last minute replacement when Frozone can't take his shift.
It's chance as to how he got his powers, chance how he got this calling and this life, and chance as to how one gangly young man is roped into sharing monitor duty with Jensen.
Jensen has read enough of Incredible Kid's personnel file to know that he's flashy and something of a delinquent, relying too heavily on his powers and his charms. All ego and none of the real effort behind it. Just a pretty face, and pretty hair, and sculpted abs on a lanky body just beginning to fill out, long and lean with muscle.
And ego. Lots of ego. Good to remember that.
"What do you think about Blazestone? Danneel? She's kinda hot," Incredible is saying, wiping bangs out of his eyes and away from his domino mask. Jensen looks over at the panels in front of him, keeping an eye on the sensor readings. Making conversation while on duty is a trait he's been taught to avoid. Keep your guard up. Don't talk. Don't socialize. Keep your head in your work.
The League would teach him how to work well with others, Elastic Man had said, a little wistful. So far, it's taught him that his co-workers could be restless and erratic or prone to hormone driven acts of insanity.
"I don't have relationships with my co-workers so I can't give an informed opinion on that," Jensen replies. He can feel Incredible's gaze and see his open mouth without even having to turn around.
"Dude, it's just… makin' conversation," Incredible says. "And that's bull. You have relationships!"
"Name one."
Incredible Kid pauses. "Well. Me."
"That's fraternizing," Jensen corrects, upping the sensor with a series of button presses. The readings aren't leveling out, a strange problem that has him stretching up, arms first and then torso, checking the ceiling cables and wires above. Twenty feet below, Incredible has his arms folded, a disinterested blur of light and dark blue material as Jensen moves quickly, fixing cables. "We're acquaintances."
"Last time I checked, I thought we were friends," Incredible Kid calls up, and now he's standing, idly running a gloved hand along the metal console surface.
"You've served three weeks of monitor duty with me and were in my team for five out of the last seven missions. All of those missions having you outside of your normal squad." Jensen frowns. "Are you trying to get extra credit for additional time served?"
Incredible Kid laughs shortly. "You are such a fuckin' robot, Cowboy."
The nickname is something that Jensen can't ignore, as Incredible-as Jared-has said it more than once, this twist of a smirk that follows it. They’re not supposed to know about each other’s backgrounds but the Incredible Kid pegged Jensen for a Texan the moment he spoke.
Jensen clears his throat, ignoring how it's still an illogical nickname-he's never stepped foot on a ranch-and strange because it's better than the other nicknames thrown his way. Stretch, Gumby, and the classic Freak. Perhaps they're not nicknames so much as they are taunts.
Biologically, he knows he's a freak of nature. Doesn't need to hear it, not when he can't get a solid grip on his body anyway. Always this rubbery quality to him, like he has no bones, and maybe he doesn't. Elastic Man hasn't revealed the extent of his medical records and tests-
"Seriously. Cowboy!" Jared shouts, poking at Jensen's midsection. "Can you come down?"
"You didn't answer my question," Jensen murmurs, slowly compressing back to normal height. The temptation to be taller than Jared is always there, but it would take too much energy to maintain it all the time. Besides that, there's always that sense in the back of his mind of maintaining accurate bodily composure, to keep that middle ground between solid and liquid. Feeling weak at the knees though, well that might be because of Jared's proximity to Jensen, tight and blue spandex covered muscle in front of him.
"You look like you needed a friend," Jared explains. "Y'know, someone to hang with when you're not in the Bat Cave."
"For your information, it's a sanctuary. There are no bats. That would not be sanitary."
Jared nods. "Right, right."
He licks his lips, which causes any explanation or thought to fly out of Jensen's brain, gaze focusing on the thin smirk that appears. "You're my friend, then."
"Yeah. If that's, uh, if that's okay with you. I kind of like you. I mean, hanging out with-"
"You're attracted to me," Jensen says incredulously. He raises an eyebrow, and then frowns, knowing the mask covers too much of his bewildered expression. "Why?"
Jared huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Come on, I wouldn't hang around here if I didn't like you!"
"But I'm-"
The kiss Jared gives is abrupt and quick, teeth clicking as Jensen isn't prepared for it. They both grunt, an awkward shuffle of feet as they try to figure out the situation. It's a matter of seconds as they get their bearings before Jared presses against him, hips against hips.
Gloved fingers trace the curves of the raised logo emblazoned on Jensen's chest, warmth spreading from the touch. His body feels warm at once, heart hammering, bending up into Jared's space, into his lips, kissing back.
Somehow, Jensen can feel his body going rigid, narrow torso solidifying into strong muscle under Jared's palms, gripping his solid sides, his sharp hipbones.
He arches up into Jared's embrace, twining fingers into his loose hair, before-
"Oh my God, I do not need to know that!"
"What?"
*
PRESENT DAY
Eve sits on one leg, the other dangling off her bed. Her room is a whirl of colors, bright artwork and bold posters, even though her personality tends to lean more toward the shy side. Jensen resists the urge to tell her to close her mouth, because he doesn't need to heap more of the parental correction urge on his plate.
He'd already come in straight after a hectic day of work to talk to her, sleeves rolled up and a look of concern, even though he wanted nothing more than to lose his composure and melt into a puddle in the bed upstairs.
But this is Eve. She'd asked him earlier if they could talk and he agreed to it, not expecting how hectic his first day back on the job would be. Super villains, explosions, hostage situations-those all seemed easier than trying to run experiments in a complex laboratory. Turns out that the months off the job have left him rusty, his focus less attuned to the precise details about mechanics and more attuned to the schedules of his three-or four, if counting Jared-kids.
So they talked. And Jensen decided to share some anecdotes, because those are good truth building exercises.
"Oh my God, I do not need to know that!"
"What?"
Eve scrunches her nose. "I don't want to think about you guys making out."
"It's important in the story," Jensen states. "I was lucky that your father helped me get out of my shell. Having powers isn't easy, Eve, but you shouldn't be ashamed of them. They're as part of you as anything else."
When she sighs, Jensen moves to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. Fifteen and she's already a few inches shorter than him. Soon enough he'll be dealing with two giants, plus there's always Zac and Areion. Then there's growing up and college… This is precisely why Jensen can sometimes understand Jared's complaints about him overanalyzing situations for every possible outcome.
"Yeah, but like… I don't want to turn invisible when I'm kissing some guy, you know? It's scary." Her breath hitches, posture going rigid, and it takes all that Jensen has not to hug her immediately.
Jared has always been the one for outright affection: small touches, hugs, pressing up close, clapping on the back. He's warmth and life, constantly moving, restless and needing to share that love, that excitement around. For all of Jensen's powers, the walls that he's built up have slowly lowered over time, but he's the serious one for the most part.
Still, he lifts her chin and says, "Who'd want to see through a pretty face like that?"
She smiles at first and then makes a face, shoving him away weakly. Jensen grins, standing up. "It's scary at first, but once you work on it, you can control your powers. Keep 'em secret."
"Shouldn't we tell the people we're close to, though?" Eve asks. "I mean, the real big stuff. The secrets."
Jensen clears his throat. Damn it. It's a loophole, but one that makes sense. Especially the way Jared's been acting lately. "For now, keep that secret. We'll talk about it when you're older. Besides, you're too young to date. You shouldn't be kissing any guys. Until you're 18. Like we were."
"But when did you first-"
"Make sure you're packed for tomorrow!" Jensen blurts, stretching immediately toward the bedroom door and out into the hallway in a single bound, Eve harrumphing behind him.
*
A few miles out, in a small suburb near San Antonio, is the Padalecki ranch. It's small and cozy, with an old front porch and clapboard shutters, this rustic look that Jensen has wondered on occasion why Jared's parents chosen to keep it. Why not rebuild and expand? They're retired now and other than the two dogs they keep, there's no one else to take care of. Jared's father had clapped Jensen on the shoulder, offered him a beer and said, "Preserving memories," by way of explanation.
He finally gets it when he sees Eve walking a narrow line on the wooden fence beam, clamping down the urge to tell her to get off, that she'll break her neck. His little girl is gone, grown into this teenager he's still adjusting to.
Briefly, she's back again, the little girl with wavy hair and crooked grin when she kisses him on the cheek, saying good night before heading off to one of the guest bedrooms. She passes Jared on the way, stepping up on tiptoes to get a hug as he holds two chilled beer bottles over her shoulder and tries not to get her wet.
"I put Zac and Areion to sleep," Jared says, offering one of the bottles to Jensen.
Jensen takes a long pull as Jared sits next to him on the porch steps. It's quiet, a little cold, the sky above a deep blue with pinpricks of stars. They finish their beers after a few silent minutes, both full and a little sleepy from Mrs. Padalecki's cooking. It's nice to be able to come out here for the weekend and get away from the stresses of work and everyday life.
"So, how's the new job?" Jared asks, clearing his throat. Whatever anger Jared might have had towards Jensen's new position seems to have gone after the past few days. His voice rises a little at the end of it, actually curious. Not just making conversation.
Sometimes Jensen thinks Jared is a little bitter that he's managed to hold down his jobs and continue his career without incident. The thing is, his job right now, it's safe. It won't have the kids traveling; it won't have them running from any danger.
It won't have them using their powers and being trained for combat.
Jensen almost snorts the last of the beer, coughing before he says, "Good, good. Schedule's a little hectic right now. Invention experiments."
"Oh. Like a laser or something?"
"I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Jensen responds, smiling. "Confidential stuff, dude."
"Hey, remember that time you made those rocket engine boots back at H.Q.?" Jared asks, a wistful grin around the bottle lip. H.Q. had been the nickname for the League headquarters building they had spent their time in when they weren't in their normal civilian lives: high school, then college. Or their jobs, or being superhero sidekicks…
Jensen spent a lot of time at H.Q. inventing things. He also spent a lot of time inventing really shitty things to try out with his secret boyfriend.
(A 'secret' that lasted all of three weeks, because Jared was terrible at not staring at Jensen lovingly all of the time. Jensen still isn't sure if Jared was joking or not.)
"Yeah, and you zoomed right through a plate glass window, twenty floors up," Jensen says, shaking his head. "I thought you were dead."
Jared shrugs, getting to his feet. He pulls at his baggy hoodie awkwardly, like he's uncomfortable. "You caught me."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. I found out just how far I could stretch from that experiment."
Jared laughs before he's heading out to the wooden fence, climbing up. He's a shadow of light blue in the moonlight, hair glinting lighter, wild and in his eyes. With the hoodie and jeans, for a second, Jared looks like the gangly teenager Jensen met years ago, before he turns and shows him the man he's filled out and grown into.
A warm and pleasant buzz of alcohol goes through Jensen, not enough to inebriate him, and nowhere near enough to keep away that nervousness he feels at watching Jared balance on the fence. He can already feel his body tightening like the coil of a spring, ready to stretch forward if Jared loses his balance.
"I wanted to try and be as fast as you are, remember?" Jared says softly.
"I kept practicing. It's like a muscle. You have to concentrate and keep doing it."
Jared closes his eyes and swallows, and Jensen feels too tight, too constricted. "What if you're out of practice?"
"You keep trying."
Jared hesitates, looking like he wants to say something else, but he stops. He takes a step forward into the empty air, and for the split second Jensen can swear that he's levitating.
"Be careful!" Jensen snaps as Jared falls off the fence and lands on one knee. He heads towards Jared, ready to stretch a hand out to Jared for support, stopping when Jared scowls, dusting off his knees.
When Jensen asks if he's all right, Jared nods quickly, jaw tight. He heads up the porch steps and lingers with the screen door open, Jensen collecting the bottles behind him. Jared is bathed in the orange porch light, sudden change that isn't an illusion: it shows the lines on his face and how he's older, but not as worn out as he's looked in the past.
He takes a breath and exhales, saying, "I got a promotion at work."
"What? That's… That's great!" Jensen exclaims, hesitating before he moves to hug Jared, clapping him on the back hard. "This is awesome, man. You deserve it."
Jared looks at Jensen strangely for a second, then his lips quirk into a smile. "Yeah… It's gonna be harder, but it should be worth it."
"I'm so proud of you," Jensen says, and this time, the hug he gives Jared has him lingering, sinking into him. Jared buries his nose into Jensen's neck and breathes out his thank you, his mouth curving into a smile against Jensen's collar.
*
If asked, Jensen is an expert when it comes to change. He's taken classes on it, read the books and did the training: how to adapt to any situation. He'd make MacGuyver cry in wonder. He'd make his kids cry in wonder too, if they actually knew who MacGuyver is, and really, that's the downside of television today. Less syndicated classics.
Anyway, he's an expert on change. His old mentor, the first behind the mask of Elastic Man, Jeff Morgan, had left him with a costume, an array of weird sci-fi equipment, and a set of rules. By the time the superhero ban came into place, Jeff had left his work to become a comedian, so Jensen wasn't entirely sure if his advice was accurate.
But he made it through those awkward teenage years-when he'd be that kid in the back of class, head down and drawing diagrams about lasers-and through those awkward young adulthood years, until he passed those stages and settled into husband and father. He's good at those. Jared would say as much, having helped him the whole way. Gone through the ups and downs of the superhero ban, been at Jensen's side since they've met, since they were teenagers, practically.
When he was young, Jared had been lanky, coltish, strong and still growing, unable to wield his body, let alone his powers. Over time his body filled with muscle, solid and strong, the quarterback for the league.
He stayed that way for a long while, and then the ban came in, kids came in. The stress of it and his depression after the baby lead to overeating, and with less time and less motivation, Jared looked more like a linebacker, solid and thicker. Jensen doesn't mind it, because hey, he's used to change. He's grown a little softer himself, too, and if Jared's constant touches are anything to go on, he doesn't mind it either.
Jensen adds revisions to the maps in his mind, the dips, curves, and plains of Jared's flesh that he memorizes with every touch of his hands and every swipe of his tongue.
But soon enough, after his promotion, Jared starts waking up at the crack of dawn, slipping out for a morning run. He laughs softly whenever Jensen grabs for him, groggy, wanting that source of warmth and comfort to stay next to him. He comes back every morning red faced and sweaty, gulping down water like there's no tomorrow before he gets dressed and heads out for work.
Whatever he's doing-the running, the "company, uh, gym"-is working well, because within a few weeks, he's added definition to his stomach. The lines of his muscles stand out firm, years melting away, profile leaner, stronger.
What's surprising though, is how Jensen isn't prepared for Jared's moods to change. He's always been a laidback, funny kind of guy, but now, it's like a mental weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
Or maybe he's just really horny.
Whatever it is, it has Jared dragging his face along Jensen's arm and bicep, slow kisses that begin to linger at the crux of Jensen's neck. "Morning."
It's too early for more than one syllable. Jensen grunts, sucks his teeth as Jared pushes the sheet down, pushing a hand under the waistline of Jensen's boxers.
"Now?" Jensen frowns, turning into the warmth of Jared, long lines of muscles pressed against his side. "Gotta get the kids ready for school."
"Five minutes late won't hurt," Jared drawls, licking his lips as he thumbs the slit of Jensen's dick. "Five minutes."
Jensen groans. "You're going to wear me out."
"Losing your elasticity so soon, old man?" Jared purses his lips, bangs falling in his eyes. He doesn't have a super power of persuasion, but Jensen sometimes thinks it comes part and parcel with being Jared Padalecki, frustrating, restless, and god, it's too early for the wrist flick-
Jensen can feel his leg wrapping four times around Jared's own legs, effectively pulling him tight and pressed against him. The move makes Jared's fist jerk, a sudden pull along Jensen's dick that makes this weird embarrassing noise come out. The sound is muffled by the taut muscle of Jared's shoulder, and Jared feels warm, firm, and good.
Except the kids really do have school. Morning sex doesn't count as an excuse for being late.
"I… can't?" Jensen yelps, getting a shrug from Jared.
"Have a good day at work, babe," Jared says easily, then he drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups. Shirtless push-ups.
It really isn't fair.
*
"Jared, time for dinner!"
Inside of the Gaming Room, there's muffled noises, a shuffling of papers. Jensen sighs, trying to keep an eye on Zac running back and forth down the hallway.
"I'm…"
More noises.
"Are you eating the whole jar of peanut butter again?" Jensen pauses, frowning.
He sighs, watching Zac zip upstairs and hearing an indignant scream of teenage rage above from Eve.
"Then we can only make jelly sandwiches…" Jensen trails off, the door opening, broad expanse of Jared's chest in front of him. "Hi."
"Hi," Jared says, tucking his hair behind his ear. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I was, uh… putting up some new frames."
Jensen stretches a few inches, brow furrowing. "I thought you had the TV on. Thought I heard voices."
"You do hear voices," Jared says lightly, one arm bracing against the doorframe. The snug t-shirt manages to show off his biceps, a sight for sore eyes. After a few years, it had been either hoodies or ill-fitting suits, Jared keeping his body covered, no longer showing off. Nowadays though, the t-shirts are back, and the jeans have made an appearance too, the old ones, tight and hanging off slimmer hips.
And before Jensen can retort, Jared's adding, "Voices that are telling you that we need to fuck."
Jensen stares at him for a moment, getting only a smirk and raised eyebrows, expectant and snarky. "No peanut butter?"
"Unless you wanna lick it off me this time," Jared's saying, already rucking up his shirt on his forearms, material twisting up to reveal the definition that's reappearing, the six pack. New lines to be charted and memorized.
The hallway is empty, but Jensen does a double check anyway, barely getting a foot in the door as Jared tugs on his tie, pulling him inside of the room. They're alone for a while, the kids upstairs and the baby asleep. Then there's Jared, all encompassing, shoulders hunching forward, crowding Jensen.
Sex is not a rare commodity for them, but it's been too long that Jensen has felt this need flare up in him, too long since Jared's gaze has been hot and dark, want in his eyes. His hands fumble for Jared's jeans, clumsy and awkward, feeling like he's a teen again, unable to control his limbs.
But Jared does it for him, fingers working Jensen's belt and slacks, popping each button of his dress shirt with a swipe of his hand. And soon enough, Jensen's hips grind against Jared, body going slack as his legs wrap around Jared's waist, too.
Jared bears Jensen's weight easily, like he's light as a feather, breathing heavy against Jensen's neck. No longer ducking their heads, trying to undress as quietly as possible. Their lips match, fit easy and perfect, the kisses short and sloppy. His fingers twine in Jared's hair, tugging as he holds on, Jared carrying them both to the desk, a thump of noise as Jared clears the surface and deposits Jensen on the desk. It's graceless and it's perfect.
Things get a little uncoordinated from there-with Jensen lying out on the desk, and Jared fishing through junk and candy bars for the spare lube he keeps there for precisely these kind of emergencies.
"Didn't think you… thought you were busy," Jensen's saying, can't quite believe there's room in his lungs for talking, urge to shut up rising as Jared yanks of the rest of his clothes, time thankfully slowing down as he strips off his shirt.
It's a little hard to concentrate, blood rushing from his head and straight to his dick, the pale hues of newspaper clippings and memorabilia surrounding them, almost watching.
Little disconcerting, too, always has been, to see that scrawny, pretty twink version of himself in the photographs, that person he hasn't been for years.
"Not anymore," Jared grunts, slicking up his fingers, involuntarily thrusting against Jensen’s thigh.
"Oh, that's good. Great," Jensen lamely corrects as he barely has enough presence of mind to pull his slacks off. His mind then dies when Jared rolls the condom down his cock, slicking the lube down his shaft.
Jared leans over Jensen, spreading his thighs. "Ready?"
Jensen groans, nodding his yes, a hand snaking up to pull Jared head down, kissing his jaw, his neck. Half of his vision is a blur, glasses crooked on his nose, fireworks dancing behind his eyelids as Jared pushes in a slippery finger, then another.
It's habit that they do this, because he doesn't need to-Jensen is pliant and arching up under Jared, ready to take all of him right now, body flexing. It's almost teasing Jensen, carrying this on like he can't take it all at once.
And then Jared nods, bangs brushing Jensen's forehead as he braces a hand on the desk edge, the other on the round of Jensen's hip, lining them up. Pushing him just so, until he pushes in, slowly, Jensen clenching around him.
He feels tight and loose all at once, tense around Jared's dick, his own cock rubbing against Jared's belly. Jared's hand adds to the friction, his slow pulls becoming erratic and fast. Loose, as his legs go slack, wrapping around Jared's, pulling him tighter and deeper.
But Jared still knows the right angle, the last few strokes teasing, then pushing, tension building in Jared's body. It's a tightness that Jensen feels he's fighting against as he can't take it. One more stroke against his prostate and he's a goner. It's too much, and Jared sucks his tongue between his lips then bites Jensen's bottom lip.
"It's okay, Jensen," he says. "Let go."
It isn't long before Jensen's going off, feeling anchored by Jared's grip and gaze, body completely solid for once, spurting come on his belly. And Jared is pretty much gone after that, his kiss dragging along Jensen's jaw, an exhale of breath against his neck.
Jared rests his weight on an elbow, barely able to stand if it wasn't for Jensen's legs wrapping him tight. His fingertips ghost along the curve of Jensen's cheekbone, smiling down at him.
"You good?" he asks.
Jensen looks over the rims of his glasses, which have completely steamed over from perspiration, trying to look nonchalant. Meanwhile, his body doesn't agree with him, about to turn into a puddle as Jared pulls out. "Yes-Yeah, I'm… I'm great."
Jared grins devilishly and helps Jensen to his feet, biting back a laugh when Jensen wobbles forward.
*
The Gaming Room has never looked better when it's only them, sitting on the floor and laughing their asses off at old stories and pictures. It's the kind of laughing fit that only comes every so often, until their sides are hurting, the aches inside of him just as pleasing as the ache of a full belly laugh.
And when there's Jared to lean on, Jensen can't ask for anything better.
Maybe a better public image representative, for one thing. This minute, it's action figures. Before, it had been a cereal box with their faces plastered on the aged surface.
Jared gingerly tugs at the action figure's rubbery arms, his breathing evening out. Jensen tries to clamp down the giggles, sucking in a breath and coughing. He can feel the shift of muscles in Jared's arms, how his head turns, hair in his eyes.
"Eve has a boyfriend, doesn't she?" Jared says, his voice small. "I heard you two talking."
Jensen whistles as he straightens. "Eavesdropping?"
"Come on, man."
"Sorry."
"Does she, though?"
With Jared still and quiet at his side, it's hard to pull away from the source of support and warmth. But Jensen does, turning to look Jared in the eye. "She's… interested. Didn't think it would be this soon."
"Pretty soon Zac's gonna borrow the SUV. Cruise for chicks," Jared says with a laugh, knowing it'll make Jensen roll his eyes.
"They turned out to be pretty good kids," Jensen says, looking up at Jared's desk.
It's one of the few pieces of furniture that's not steeped in the past in this room, the surface haphazardly covered with the usual office supplies, Jared's laptop, and small framed photos. Everything that Jared had knocked over in the heat of the moment that they then scrambled to put back on afterwards.
One of the framed photos is as close as they've ever gotten to a family portrait, this geeky photo of the four of them at Disney World: the adults making faces, and their kids grinning wide, Mickey Mouse ears at an angle. Only a few years old and yet it seems like a lifetime ago-it's before Areion and this new neighborhood. Before the last time there were problems and they needed to be relocated.
Jared seems to notice Jensen's staring, hand reaching out to grab at his thigh.
"They are. Is this kid good enough for our Eve?" Jared asks, his eyes widening. "Oh, crap. We've got a teenager. How did we get a teenager?"
"Cloning?"
Jared pushes his hair off his face, more sarcasm than worry. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
*
The changes get even weirder.
What pass for routines and schedule in the household exist so that Jensen isn't driven insane. He's a little meticulous, a little overanalyzing, a little OCD and… okay, fine, he might be a little insane, but he has reason to be. An unstable molecular structure. Three kids: a teenager, an eight year old, and a kid still potty training. A busy job, a mortgage, PTA meetings, house problems that never get fixed because he'd rather be solving computer equations than cleaning out the gutters.
He has schedules for exactly these reasons.
Only over the past few weeks, it's become the opposite.
Jared starts to pick up the kids from school-not only on the random day he's gotten out of work early. He takes Zac out to the track field on weekends to practice, as though he's satisfied with that now instead of pushing for their son to try out for the team. Other times, it's going to museums with Eve and buying her paint supplies. And Areion looks delighted at having another person to feed him and make faces basically all of the time.
It isn't like he didn't do these things before. It's just that Jensen doesn't have to ask him to do them, and they're a little more regimented now, less haphazard and on a whim.
It's weird.
And on one hot Saturday, it starts to get distracting.
"He mowed the backyard," Jensen says, his tone clipped as he looks over the latest project reports. From what little he can glean off the recent classified experiments, they've been costly and slow going.
It's a lot of numbers that swim in his head, making it hard to concentrate on the phone call he's on.
Over the phone, he can hear Areion make gurgling noises, which either indicates he needs to be changed or he might've eaten something weird again. Jensen wouldn't put it past him to eat Play-Doh again.
"What?" Misha says as he wrangles the phone out of Areion's reach.
"You asked me what's wrong with me and I'm telling you. He mowed the yard," Jensen replies dryly, eyes darting left and right as he stares at the computer screen.
Jensen doesn't have that much privacy in the facility, but for once, there's a lull in work, people in lab coats scattered here and there, talking, checking computers. His desk is somewhere beneath the mound of papers and folders, the messiness in his office work one vice he's never been able to shake. Being neurotic and keeping everything labeled and in order in the home comes naturally, but when it comes to his work, Jensen has a tendency to like the pack rat messiness of his cubicle. It's ordered in its own way: this tangle of objects that only he can navigate.
"Actually, I asked you how was your weekend?"
"So usually I mow the yard-" Though Jensen admits that this time it was trimmed nice and even-unlike Jensen's admittedly lazy stretching-an-arm-to-steer-while-typing-inside technique. "-but he wanted to, so I took a break with Areion."
This break involved stretching himself like a hammock between the trees out back, with Areion napping on Jensen's chest. He murmurs the detail under his breath so those around him can't hear, though he isn't sure Misha can either over the noise of Areion laughing.
"This is bad how?" Misha sounds confused.
"There was iced tea and tight jeans involved afterwards."
"You are acting like a teenager, you realize."
Jensen resists the urge to stretch his arm and bring over a stack of papers on the other side of the cubicle. He pushes off and rolls in his chair, keeping the cell tucked against his ear. "I'm well aware of that."
"Your interest in Jared shouldn't be detrimental. He is your husband after all."
"I think he's having a midlife crisis," Jensen insists. "And it's going to break my dick at this rate."
"Lovemaking should not be viewed as-"
"Oh, God, now I know what Eve felt."
Misha sighs, murmuring to Areion and likely shifting him from arm to arm. "Look, how is renewal in your relationship a bad thing?"
"We were supposed to get married and live in the suburbs and have three kids and grow old together, and now he's… Acting all weird. Like a teenager again."
"Is that so wrong?"
Jensen feels his composure threatening to slip, and so he straightens, glancing at his surroundings before whispering, "We're not supposed to make waves."
"But is it wrong, Jensen?" Misha repeats.
He feels relaxed all of a sudden, wondering whether it's due to mulling things over in his head or because of Misha's powers.
It isn't wrong. None of it is. It's great, actually. Jared is spending more time with the kids, no longer keeping to himself. They haven't been fighting for the longest, practically unable to keep their hands off each other. There's more bounce to Jared's step, more flashing his dimples, more laughing, this ease of mind and body that Jensen didn't know he missed.
It's not supposed to be weird-it's only surprising, is what it is, after all this drab and mundane for a while.
"No. No, you're right. I'll give him a call now. Thanks," Jensen says, hanging up. He dials Jared's office number, knowing his cell might be turned off, especially after the last time they called-and the phone sex had been hard to explain-and he gets the receptionist.
"Can I speak to Jared Padalecki? It's his husband."
"Jared Padalecki?" There's a pause on the other end, before the woman says, "I'm sorry, but Mr. Padalecki is no longer employed at Insuracare. He left the company three months ago."
The steady beep of call waiting and the group of scientists chatting nearby prevents Jensen from letting a litany of curses out, because he can only maintain civility for so long before he snaps.
"My mistake," he bites out before ending the call and answering the new call coming through.
"Jensen? It's Misha. I just got a call from a collectibles store about Jared's order being expanded on?"
Once Misha says 'collectibles store', everything starts to make sense.
*
It turns out that the fashion maven responsible for the superhero look of yesteryear is still in business and operates out of an old and musty collectibles store.
The place would be fitting if it wasn't so weird when Jensen strolls in, Eve and Zac following him into this slice of the past with complete disinterest. To the young customers already browsing in the store, he looks like a parent, or some middle aged 'old guy', which isn't helped when he's wearing baggy jeans (in all the wrong ways) and an old t-shirt of the local basketball team, confirming his uncool status.
The grey in his hair doesn't do much for the image either. Still, he used to be the subject of those action figures the kids are now examining, Eve pointing out one of Jensen's old enemies in miniature size.
Thing is, the collectibles are still living that life, snapshots of another time. Their bodies gleaming pristine and ageless in print and encased in glass, figurines that the kids pick up for a brief moment before dropping in favor of the next shiny toy.
Jensen makes his way to the back register, tapping his fingers on the countertop. The office door swings open, revealing a tiny, drab office, and a short, middle aged man who's slightly balding, staring at Jensen with wide eyes.
"Jensen?"
"Hey, Eric," Jensen replies warmly, feeling his mouth twist into a fake smile that doesn't meet his eyes. It happens when he's resisting the urge to squirm at how Eric scrutinizes him.
"Oh, wow, you got old."
Jensen frowns, opening his mouth to respond but Eric's already hustling him into the office, barking at the only other worker there to mind the store as he deals with one of his 'top customers.' He doesn't even get a chance to explain what he's doing there, not when Eric pushes one book spine in the tiny bookcase set inside the hideous '70s inspired wood-paneled wall and there's a secret passage in front of them.
Jensen has to admit that it's pretty cool.
One long elevator ride and a few hundred feet later, when they enter the secret space or hideout or whatever it is, underground, Jensen needs to revise the sentiment. It's awesome and slightly overwhelming, to see the large metal statues of heroes and panes of clear, lit up glass and computer panels.
The room is half battle station and half fashion factory, with rolls of silk, leather, and rubber line up against the walls, mannequin heads wearing different sized masks as a silent, faceless audience.
And in the middle of it all, Eric beams at him, that same guy who twenty five years before, presented Jensen and many others with their costumes with the same enthusiasm and reverence he's always had.
"Eric."
"Glad you're here! I'm not sure if I have the measurements right, since I did base it on seventeen year old figures when it came to you and guesstimated with the kids, and obviously your body has, uh, changed in the meantime." Eric nods, pressing his thumb against a panel and typing in a series of codes with his other hand. "It's ninety five percent spandex. Stretches. Other five percent's cotton. Cotton breathes."
Trying to interrupt Eric Kripke is a lost cause, especially when he has the ability to take words and thoughts away as easily as pressing a button. A button that involves walls sliding away to reveal a tableau of suspended costumes of different sizes, all in red material and black leather gloves and boots. Each mannequin has a raised 'I' logo emblazoned on the chest in leather, and the black domino masks all look like Jared's old mask.
A teenage girl, a young boy, and even a red onesie.
The fact that the adult male costume is being pulled and twisted into lengthy directions by robot arms doesn't throw Jensen. What throws him is the flamethrower that starts to charbroil the baby outfit as Eric's saying, "…impervious to up to a thousand degrees!"
"What the fuck is going on here?" Jensen finally sputters.
"I know!" Eric exclaims, waving his arms at the costumes. "They're all works of art! Perfection! Words fail me too."
"This… I… It's invisible?" Jensen's voice rises as he sees the girl costume shimmer and disappear for a second, before becoming visible again. "Why did you make these? We're civilians now! Jared and I don't do that any more. It's in the past."
"I felt compelled to expand on his order. It's a challenge! Oh and don't worry about paying, I put it on Frozone's tab. He owes me big time for recommending the nipples on the Clooney Batsuit. I'll never live that job down," Eric sniffles.
As though he can tell how desperately Jensen needs a drink right now, Eric presses another button and a floor panel rotates out of the ground to reveal two chairs and a table with glasses and scotch. Jensen ignores the glass and heads right for the bottle, sucking down a gulp before wiping his mouth and pointing at Eric. "So, Jared did come by. And short sentences, Eric, otherwise we'll see the return of ElastiBoy. Starting with an elastic fist to the face."
Eric immediately sits down, posture straight. For all his talk, he's still able to get nervous.
Jensen wasn't always the science and tech geek. He's known for getting his way, whether it involved negotiation by talking or by force.
"Jared was so excited about it-he had big plans and, of course, I listened but you know how he is, he likes pink and plaid and it's… a mess. So I went with the red. Bold without coming off like a jerk. Maybe a little Flash in there too-" Off Jensen's glare, Eric starts to hurry, continuing, "I thought you knew! Unless he's doing some covert ops, which is lame because I totally would've gone with the camouflage and upped the invisible print."
Jensen rubs the bridge of his nose. "He's doing missions? For what…"
The wheels start to click into place. Fast.
"It's not a midlife crisis. He's doing missions! He's…" Jensen takes another gulp of the scotch. "That's why he's gotten back into shape. That's why we keep having all the sex. That's why he's-I'm going to kill him."
"For the sex?"
"No!" Jensen barks, standing up abruptly. "And now he's going to get himself killed."
"Actually, he seems pretty stationary to me," Eric says, his gaze focused on one of the glowing computer screens above. It's a map of the coast, with a huge compound near the water, and right in the middle of it, a glowing red dot.
If Eric happens to fall over when Jensen shoves him out of the way to look, well, that's punishment for enabling Jared to return to super heroics. Without telling Jensen.
"You put a tracking device on him?"
Eric shrugs. "I like to know where my work is. And where any super heroics occur, there's always a need for a tailor."
He gestures at the panel, but Jensen is already moving closer. Now everything else seems to fade in the background, all his focus on that blinking little light, the one that will lead him to answers.
"Uh, you know, if you want the coordinates, you just need to press the button."
So he does.
And that's how it all goes to hell.
*
Whenever they had done group missions, ElastiBoy was always the Tech Support. Part of it had been because his powers didn't make him one of the heavy hitters, and the other part being that he liked being in the background, keeping his shyness private.
Part of it also had to do with how, being the Tech Support, he didn't have to fly the league jet. That was always Jared's job.
Except one called in favor and three hours later, he's feeling green around the gills and fighting the urge to vomit all over the flight controls of the loaned jet. Thankfully, knowing how to control it comes to him easy enough, like riding a very expensive, very technical, very enormous bicycle. His arms stretch up and twist fast enough to reach all the controls.
Outside, the weather is clear and free of clouds, the horizon turning pink and orange from the setting sun. Hills and grey lengths of highway stretch out beneath before he's heading out over the coast, water rippling below. The radio silence is strange and unnerving, before he starts to hear rustling.
There are little shuffling noises nearby. Maybe it's the voices that Jared had joked about. Perfect. Delusions as a side effect from nausea.
Jensen dials Misha's cell, skipping the pleasantries once he picks up. "Are the kids okay?"
"Hello to you too," Misha replies dryly. "I'm just watching the little one. After you dropped off Even and Zac, Eve said that you were supposed to take them to a museum exhibit that opens today. The new dinosaur on display? Anyway, Ben came by and picked them up."
Jensen's brow furrows, not from the readings on the screen, but from Misha's statement. "What? That exhibit opened last week and who the hell is Ben?"
"Ben Edlund? He works with Kripke. He had some kind of power but he liked to use it for behind-the-scenes stuff. Can't remember what it was."
"Imagination. He came up with the most cracked out ideas," Jensen answers through gritted teeth."
So, he's definitely hearing voices. He says a hurried goodbye and hangs up before turning around to see a flicker of movement back in the rear cockpit passenger seats. An arm stretches out, meaning to pass through air but it just misses his son and daughter, materializing into view suddenly. Gleaming red and black, their costumes fit them perfectly, black masks making their eyes stand out brightly.
It's a testament to Jensen's sanity that the first thing he thinks is wondering how Eve can project her invisibility now, shielding Zac from view.
He follows the thought with saying, "How did you get your brother to stand so still?"
"Hey!" Zac pouts, arms folding. "I can totally stay still!"
"You are totally grounded," Jensen snaps, gritting his teeth. It explains how he felt weird getting the jet, feeling like he'd been watched-and he was, managing not to notice his two kids tagging along for the ride. "You shouldn't be here! I can't believe you'd go and-"
"We're family," Eve says, bracing an arm against Jensen's chair. She looks up at the horizon outside, eyes vibrant green and looking older than she is. "We do this together."
"I can't even believe this-damn it, Ben."
"Don't blame Mr. Edlund," Eve interjects. "He said we were supposed to be doing this."
"He explained it with these puppets," Zac agrees. He punches his first into his palm, ready to take on the world. "We gotta save Dad."
Jensen can't deny that he feels a flare of pride deep down, heart clenching. But this is not the time for junior heroics. Not when lives are at stake. "No, that is not what we're doing. You two are going to-"
He stops short, a loud series of beeps on the radar coming on. "What the-Abort, abort! Friendly approaching, abort-Kids, put your seatbelts-shit, abort, there are children aboard!"
They don't get a chance to lock the seat belts. Not when a missile plows into the jet.
They don't get to do much of anything else after that.
*
The drop feels endless, but in reality it's a few seconds. His body goes on overdrive, forming a parachute and pulling the kids to safety in his arms, the ground rising up quickly beneath them. He catches a gust of air and manages to slow their descent into a thicket of trees. Shrapnel rains down, the flaming chunks of aircraft barely missing them as they run, Zac pulling Eve and yelling at her to run faster.
A few hundred feet and seven unconscious henchmen later, Jensen is slinking through the compound, trying to not to vomit from air sickness or get caught by guards. Getting caught is a little more difficult when wearing bright red spandex that's very unflattering on his midsection-or his legs, because knee high boots? Really? Emphasizing his bow legs, awesome.
The compound itself looks like the standard empty warehouse fare with a dash of douchebag condo thrown in. Huge trucks with tarps and some small jets are parked around the area, to add to the Hollywood action movie and militaristic feel of it. It's sturdy walls and only one floor, something Jensen doesn't get until he spies the large elevator inside of the building, leading right down to what has to be an underground complex.
"Dad?"
Jensen jerks, hitting his head on the wall beneath the window he'd been looking through. The air shimmers in front of him, revealing Eve and Zac crouching near him.
"I want you both to stay in the shadows, all right? Eve, do me a favor and watch your brother. Don't touch anything and don't you dare follow me," Jensen instructs, shushing Zac as he groans. "Stay together. If they see you, I want you to run."
"Why can't we fight?" Zac says, craning his neck as though he's looking for someone to practice this urge on.
"Because if you fight, there's a chance you're going to get hurt. This isn't like the movies. Bad guys don't fight fair. They could… I couldn't live with myself if you two-" Jensen swallows audibly. "Just. Listen to me. Stay hidden and you'll stay safe."
Eve nods, pulling Zac to stand near her. The air shimmers again and both of the kids are invisible save for the light footprints they leave as they run for the cover of the nearby forest.
And he's alone.
Jensen hates leaving the kids behind, chest feeling too heavy and tight. He doesn't want to bring them into this. To have to watch their eyes, how the world shifts as they realize it's not a game. It's real and he's lived it, and now he's raising his kids to do the same.
However, as much as he hates how easily he snaps back into his mindset of days long gone by, now is not the time to dwell.
Now is the time to get to work.
*
As impenetrable as the compound should be with all its henchmen and surveillance, it is surprisingly easy for Jensen to bypass security. He might not have used his powers for this particular purpose in years, but all it takes is stretching that old muscle. Or all of his muscles in order to fit through the cracks and edges of doors, stretching himself paper thin to get past.
Jensen slinks through the passages, slipping down into the elevator chute when a guard looks the other way. He presses himself flat against the elevator car once it begins to move down. Convenient.
Turns out he's still good at doing this. Even if the paper thin stretching is wearing him out a bit. He holds his breath, face inches away from the rough stone walls that zoom by as the elevator glides down.
The elevator slows to a stop and Jensen hustles himself out. It's a stone hallway with thick steel doors, technical readouts with red and green lights glowing. Right behind this door though, the energy levels are off the charts.
The two henchmen are knocked down in mere seconds, barely getting out shouts of surprise as Jensen shoots his fists out in the convenient shape of hammers. He whips his fists into their faces, hard. The old 1-2 knockout.
Jensen has never been one to rely on luck or chance. But he murmurs under his breath, please be okay, once he swipes one of the henchmen's key cards and the doors slide open.
Part Three
PART TWO
(Jensen)
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
For a scientist, the fact that many of the important things in Jensen's life appeared to come by chance frustrate him.
Sure, there had to be a scientific explanation for his powers-no on radioactive bites or gamma rays, must be the genes-and yet the precise set of powers he had, well, there was no control over that. His parents had died early on, so he had very little to go on when it came to family backgrounds. Being thrust into the current life he has, as sidekick and heir to the throne of one of the greatest superheroes, Elastic Man, now that was also chance. The fact that he had no activities to get in the way of Saturday night watch tower duty, well, that was logical. He really did have no social life. But as chance had it, he's a last minute replacement when Frozone can't take his shift.
It's chance as to how he got his powers, chance how he got this calling and this life, and chance as to how one gangly young man is roped into sharing monitor duty with Jensen.
Jensen has read enough of Incredible Kid's personnel file to know that he's flashy and something of a delinquent, relying too heavily on his powers and his charms. All ego and none of the real effort behind it. Just a pretty face, and pretty hair, and sculpted abs on a lanky body just beginning to fill out, long and lean with muscle.
And ego. Lots of ego. Good to remember that.
"What do you think about Blazestone? Danneel? She's kinda hot," Incredible is saying, wiping bangs out of his eyes and away from his domino mask. Jensen looks over at the panels in front of him, keeping an eye on the sensor readings. Making conversation while on duty is a trait he's been taught to avoid. Keep your guard up. Don't talk. Don't socialize. Keep your head in your work.
The League would teach him how to work well with others, Elastic Man had said, a little wistful. So far, it's taught him that his co-workers could be restless and erratic or prone to hormone driven acts of insanity.
"I don't have relationships with my co-workers so I can't give an informed opinion on that," Jensen replies. He can feel Incredible's gaze and see his open mouth without even having to turn around.
"Dude, it's just… makin' conversation," Incredible says. "And that's bull. You have relationships!"
"Name one."
Incredible Kid pauses. "Well. Me."
"That's fraternizing," Jensen corrects, upping the sensor with a series of button presses. The readings aren't leveling out, a strange problem that has him stretching up, arms first and then torso, checking the ceiling cables and wires above. Twenty feet below, Incredible has his arms folded, a disinterested blur of light and dark blue material as Jensen moves quickly, fixing cables. "We're acquaintances."
"Last time I checked, I thought we were friends," Incredible Kid calls up, and now he's standing, idly running a gloved hand along the metal console surface.
"You've served three weeks of monitor duty with me and were in my team for five out of the last seven missions. All of those missions having you outside of your normal squad." Jensen frowns. "Are you trying to get extra credit for additional time served?"
Incredible Kid laughs shortly. "You are such a fuckin' robot, Cowboy."
The nickname is something that Jensen can't ignore, as Incredible-as Jared-has said it more than once, this twist of a smirk that follows it. They’re not supposed to know about each other’s backgrounds but the Incredible Kid pegged Jensen for a Texan the moment he spoke.
Jensen clears his throat, ignoring how it's still an illogical nickname-he's never stepped foot on a ranch-and strange because it's better than the other nicknames thrown his way. Stretch, Gumby, and the classic Freak. Perhaps they're not nicknames so much as they are taunts.
Biologically, he knows he's a freak of nature. Doesn't need to hear it, not when he can't get a solid grip on his body anyway. Always this rubbery quality to him, like he has no bones, and maybe he doesn't. Elastic Man hasn't revealed the extent of his medical records and tests-
"Seriously. Cowboy!" Jared shouts, poking at Jensen's midsection. "Can you come down?"
"You didn't answer my question," Jensen murmurs, slowly compressing back to normal height. The temptation to be taller than Jared is always there, but it would take too much energy to maintain it all the time. Besides that, there's always that sense in the back of his mind of maintaining accurate bodily composure, to keep that middle ground between solid and liquid. Feeling weak at the knees though, well that might be because of Jared's proximity to Jensen, tight and blue spandex covered muscle in front of him.
"You look like you needed a friend," Jared explains. "Y'know, someone to hang with when you're not in the Bat Cave."
"For your information, it's a sanctuary. There are no bats. That would not be sanitary."
Jared nods. "Right, right."
He licks his lips, which causes any explanation or thought to fly out of Jensen's brain, gaze focusing on the thin smirk that appears. "You're my friend, then."
"Yeah. If that's, uh, if that's okay with you. I kind of like you. I mean, hanging out with-"
"You're attracted to me," Jensen says incredulously. He raises an eyebrow, and then frowns, knowing the mask covers too much of his bewildered expression. "Why?"
Jared huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Come on, I wouldn't hang around here if I didn't like you!"
"But I'm-"
The kiss Jared gives is abrupt and quick, teeth clicking as Jensen isn't prepared for it. They both grunt, an awkward shuffle of feet as they try to figure out the situation. It's a matter of seconds as they get their bearings before Jared presses against him, hips against hips.
Gloved fingers trace the curves of the raised logo emblazoned on Jensen's chest, warmth spreading from the touch. His body feels warm at once, heart hammering, bending up into Jared's space, into his lips, kissing back.
Somehow, Jensen can feel his body going rigid, narrow torso solidifying into strong muscle under Jared's palms, gripping his solid sides, his sharp hipbones.
He arches up into Jared's embrace, twining fingers into his loose hair, before-
"Oh my God, I do not need to know that!"
"What?"
*
PRESENT DAY
Eve sits on one leg, the other dangling off her bed. Her room is a whirl of colors, bright artwork and bold posters, even though her personality tends to lean more toward the shy side. Jensen resists the urge to tell her to close her mouth, because he doesn't need to heap more of the parental correction urge on his plate.
He'd already come in straight after a hectic day of work to talk to her, sleeves rolled up and a look of concern, even though he wanted nothing more than to lose his composure and melt into a puddle in the bed upstairs.
But this is Eve. She'd asked him earlier if they could talk and he agreed to it, not expecting how hectic his first day back on the job would be. Super villains, explosions, hostage situations-those all seemed easier than trying to run experiments in a complex laboratory. Turns out that the months off the job have left him rusty, his focus less attuned to the precise details about mechanics and more attuned to the schedules of his three-or four, if counting Jared-kids.
So they talked. And Jensen decided to share some anecdotes, because those are good truth building exercises.
"Oh my God, I do not need to know that!"
"What?"
Eve scrunches her nose. "I don't want to think about you guys making out."
"It's important in the story," Jensen states. "I was lucky that your father helped me get out of my shell. Having powers isn't easy, Eve, but you shouldn't be ashamed of them. They're as part of you as anything else."
When she sighs, Jensen moves to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. Fifteen and she's already a few inches shorter than him. Soon enough he'll be dealing with two giants, plus there's always Zac and Areion. Then there's growing up and college… This is precisely why Jensen can sometimes understand Jared's complaints about him overanalyzing situations for every possible outcome.
"Yeah, but like… I don't want to turn invisible when I'm kissing some guy, you know? It's scary." Her breath hitches, posture going rigid, and it takes all that Jensen has not to hug her immediately.
Jared has always been the one for outright affection: small touches, hugs, pressing up close, clapping on the back. He's warmth and life, constantly moving, restless and needing to share that love, that excitement around. For all of Jensen's powers, the walls that he's built up have slowly lowered over time, but he's the serious one for the most part.
Still, he lifts her chin and says, "Who'd want to see through a pretty face like that?"
She smiles at first and then makes a face, shoving him away weakly. Jensen grins, standing up. "It's scary at first, but once you work on it, you can control your powers. Keep 'em secret."
"Shouldn't we tell the people we're close to, though?" Eve asks. "I mean, the real big stuff. The secrets."
Jensen clears his throat. Damn it. It's a loophole, but one that makes sense. Especially the way Jared's been acting lately. "For now, keep that secret. We'll talk about it when you're older. Besides, you're too young to date. You shouldn't be kissing any guys. Until you're 18. Like we were."
"But when did you first-"
"Make sure you're packed for tomorrow!" Jensen blurts, stretching immediately toward the bedroom door and out into the hallway in a single bound, Eve harrumphing behind him.
*
A few miles out, in a small suburb near San Antonio, is the Padalecki ranch. It's small and cozy, with an old front porch and clapboard shutters, this rustic look that Jensen has wondered on occasion why Jared's parents chosen to keep it. Why not rebuild and expand? They're retired now and other than the two dogs they keep, there's no one else to take care of. Jared's father had clapped Jensen on the shoulder, offered him a beer and said, "Preserving memories," by way of explanation.
He finally gets it when he sees Eve walking a narrow line on the wooden fence beam, clamping down the urge to tell her to get off, that she'll break her neck. His little girl is gone, grown into this teenager he's still adjusting to.
Briefly, she's back again, the little girl with wavy hair and crooked grin when she kisses him on the cheek, saying good night before heading off to one of the guest bedrooms. She passes Jared on the way, stepping up on tiptoes to get a hug as he holds two chilled beer bottles over her shoulder and tries not to get her wet.
"I put Zac and Areion to sleep," Jared says, offering one of the bottles to Jensen.
Jensen takes a long pull as Jared sits next to him on the porch steps. It's quiet, a little cold, the sky above a deep blue with pinpricks of stars. They finish their beers after a few silent minutes, both full and a little sleepy from Mrs. Padalecki's cooking. It's nice to be able to come out here for the weekend and get away from the stresses of work and everyday life.
"So, how's the new job?" Jared asks, clearing his throat. Whatever anger Jared might have had towards Jensen's new position seems to have gone after the past few days. His voice rises a little at the end of it, actually curious. Not just making conversation.
Sometimes Jensen thinks Jared is a little bitter that he's managed to hold down his jobs and continue his career without incident. The thing is, his job right now, it's safe. It won't have the kids traveling; it won't have them running from any danger.
It won't have them using their powers and being trained for combat.
Jensen almost snorts the last of the beer, coughing before he says, "Good, good. Schedule's a little hectic right now. Invention experiments."
"Oh. Like a laser or something?"
"I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Jensen responds, smiling. "Confidential stuff, dude."
"Hey, remember that time you made those rocket engine boots back at H.Q.?" Jared asks, a wistful grin around the bottle lip. H.Q. had been the nickname for the League headquarters building they had spent their time in when they weren't in their normal civilian lives: high school, then college. Or their jobs, or being superhero sidekicks…
Jensen spent a lot of time at H.Q. inventing things. He also spent a lot of time inventing really shitty things to try out with his secret boyfriend.
(A 'secret' that lasted all of three weeks, because Jared was terrible at not staring at Jensen lovingly all of the time. Jensen still isn't sure if Jared was joking or not.)
"Yeah, and you zoomed right through a plate glass window, twenty floors up," Jensen says, shaking his head. "I thought you were dead."
Jared shrugs, getting to his feet. He pulls at his baggy hoodie awkwardly, like he's uncomfortable. "You caught me."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. I found out just how far I could stretch from that experiment."
Jared laughs before he's heading out to the wooden fence, climbing up. He's a shadow of light blue in the moonlight, hair glinting lighter, wild and in his eyes. With the hoodie and jeans, for a second, Jared looks like the gangly teenager Jensen met years ago, before he turns and shows him the man he's filled out and grown into.
A warm and pleasant buzz of alcohol goes through Jensen, not enough to inebriate him, and nowhere near enough to keep away that nervousness he feels at watching Jared balance on the fence. He can already feel his body tightening like the coil of a spring, ready to stretch forward if Jared loses his balance.
"I wanted to try and be as fast as you are, remember?" Jared says softly.
"I kept practicing. It's like a muscle. You have to concentrate and keep doing it."
Jared closes his eyes and swallows, and Jensen feels too tight, too constricted. "What if you're out of practice?"
"You keep trying."
Jared hesitates, looking like he wants to say something else, but he stops. He takes a step forward into the empty air, and for the split second Jensen can swear that he's levitating.
"Be careful!" Jensen snaps as Jared falls off the fence and lands on one knee. He heads towards Jared, ready to stretch a hand out to Jared for support, stopping when Jared scowls, dusting off his knees.
When Jensen asks if he's all right, Jared nods quickly, jaw tight. He heads up the porch steps and lingers with the screen door open, Jensen collecting the bottles behind him. Jared is bathed in the orange porch light, sudden change that isn't an illusion: it shows the lines on his face and how he's older, but not as worn out as he's looked in the past.
He takes a breath and exhales, saying, "I got a promotion at work."
"What? That's… That's great!" Jensen exclaims, hesitating before he moves to hug Jared, clapping him on the back hard. "This is awesome, man. You deserve it."
Jared looks at Jensen strangely for a second, then his lips quirk into a smile. "Yeah… It's gonna be harder, but it should be worth it."
"I'm so proud of you," Jensen says, and this time, the hug he gives Jared has him lingering, sinking into him. Jared buries his nose into Jensen's neck and breathes out his thank you, his mouth curving into a smile against Jensen's collar.
*
If asked, Jensen is an expert when it comes to change. He's taken classes on it, read the books and did the training: how to adapt to any situation. He'd make MacGuyver cry in wonder. He'd make his kids cry in wonder too, if they actually knew who MacGuyver is, and really, that's the downside of television today. Less syndicated classics.
Anyway, he's an expert on change. His old mentor, the first behind the mask of Elastic Man, Jeff Morgan, had left him with a costume, an array of weird sci-fi equipment, and a set of rules. By the time the superhero ban came into place, Jeff had left his work to become a comedian, so Jensen wasn't entirely sure if his advice was accurate.
But he made it through those awkward teenage years-when he'd be that kid in the back of class, head down and drawing diagrams about lasers-and through those awkward young adulthood years, until he passed those stages and settled into husband and father. He's good at those. Jared would say as much, having helped him the whole way. Gone through the ups and downs of the superhero ban, been at Jensen's side since they've met, since they were teenagers, practically.
When he was young, Jared had been lanky, coltish, strong and still growing, unable to wield his body, let alone his powers. Over time his body filled with muscle, solid and strong, the quarterback for the league.
He stayed that way for a long while, and then the ban came in, kids came in. The stress of it and his depression after the baby lead to overeating, and with less time and less motivation, Jared looked more like a linebacker, solid and thicker. Jensen doesn't mind it, because hey, he's used to change. He's grown a little softer himself, too, and if Jared's constant touches are anything to go on, he doesn't mind it either.
Jensen adds revisions to the maps in his mind, the dips, curves, and plains of Jared's flesh that he memorizes with every touch of his hands and every swipe of his tongue.
But soon enough, after his promotion, Jared starts waking up at the crack of dawn, slipping out for a morning run. He laughs softly whenever Jensen grabs for him, groggy, wanting that source of warmth and comfort to stay next to him. He comes back every morning red faced and sweaty, gulping down water like there's no tomorrow before he gets dressed and heads out for work.
Whatever he's doing-the running, the "company, uh, gym"-is working well, because within a few weeks, he's added definition to his stomach. The lines of his muscles stand out firm, years melting away, profile leaner, stronger.
What's surprising though, is how Jensen isn't prepared for Jared's moods to change. He's always been a laidback, funny kind of guy, but now, it's like a mental weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
Or maybe he's just really horny.
Whatever it is, it has Jared dragging his face along Jensen's arm and bicep, slow kisses that begin to linger at the crux of Jensen's neck. "Morning."
It's too early for more than one syllable. Jensen grunts, sucks his teeth as Jared pushes the sheet down, pushing a hand under the waistline of Jensen's boxers.
"Now?" Jensen frowns, turning into the warmth of Jared, long lines of muscles pressed against his side. "Gotta get the kids ready for school."
"Five minutes late won't hurt," Jared drawls, licking his lips as he thumbs the slit of Jensen's dick. "Five minutes."
Jensen groans. "You're going to wear me out."
"Losing your elasticity so soon, old man?" Jared purses his lips, bangs falling in his eyes. He doesn't have a super power of persuasion, but Jensen sometimes thinks it comes part and parcel with being Jared Padalecki, frustrating, restless, and god, it's too early for the wrist flick-
Jensen can feel his leg wrapping four times around Jared's own legs, effectively pulling him tight and pressed against him. The move makes Jared's fist jerk, a sudden pull along Jensen's dick that makes this weird embarrassing noise come out. The sound is muffled by the taut muscle of Jared's shoulder, and Jared feels warm, firm, and good.
Except the kids really do have school. Morning sex doesn't count as an excuse for being late.
"I… can't?" Jensen yelps, getting a shrug from Jared.
"Have a good day at work, babe," Jared says easily, then he drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups. Shirtless push-ups.
It really isn't fair.
*
"Jared, time for dinner!"
Inside of the Gaming Room, there's muffled noises, a shuffling of papers. Jensen sighs, trying to keep an eye on Zac running back and forth down the hallway.
"I'm…"
More noises.
"Are you eating the whole jar of peanut butter again?" Jensen pauses, frowning.
He sighs, watching Zac zip upstairs and hearing an indignant scream of teenage rage above from Eve.
"Then we can only make jelly sandwiches…" Jensen trails off, the door opening, broad expanse of Jared's chest in front of him. "Hi."
"Hi," Jared says, tucking his hair behind his ear. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I was, uh… putting up some new frames."
Jensen stretches a few inches, brow furrowing. "I thought you had the TV on. Thought I heard voices."
"You do hear voices," Jared says lightly, one arm bracing against the doorframe. The snug t-shirt manages to show off his biceps, a sight for sore eyes. After a few years, it had been either hoodies or ill-fitting suits, Jared keeping his body covered, no longer showing off. Nowadays though, the t-shirts are back, and the jeans have made an appearance too, the old ones, tight and hanging off slimmer hips.
And before Jensen can retort, Jared's adding, "Voices that are telling you that we need to fuck."
Jensen stares at him for a moment, getting only a smirk and raised eyebrows, expectant and snarky. "No peanut butter?"
"Unless you wanna lick it off me this time," Jared's saying, already rucking up his shirt on his forearms, material twisting up to reveal the definition that's reappearing, the six pack. New lines to be charted and memorized.
The hallway is empty, but Jensen does a double check anyway, barely getting a foot in the door as Jared tugs on his tie, pulling him inside of the room. They're alone for a while, the kids upstairs and the baby asleep. Then there's Jared, all encompassing, shoulders hunching forward, crowding Jensen.
Sex is not a rare commodity for them, but it's been too long that Jensen has felt this need flare up in him, too long since Jared's gaze has been hot and dark, want in his eyes. His hands fumble for Jared's jeans, clumsy and awkward, feeling like he's a teen again, unable to control his limbs.
But Jared does it for him, fingers working Jensen's belt and slacks, popping each button of his dress shirt with a swipe of his hand. And soon enough, Jensen's hips grind against Jared, body going slack as his legs wrap around Jared's waist, too.
Jared bears Jensen's weight easily, like he's light as a feather, breathing heavy against Jensen's neck. No longer ducking their heads, trying to undress as quietly as possible. Their lips match, fit easy and perfect, the kisses short and sloppy. His fingers twine in Jared's hair, tugging as he holds on, Jared carrying them both to the desk, a thump of noise as Jared clears the surface and deposits Jensen on the desk. It's graceless and it's perfect.
Things get a little uncoordinated from there-with Jensen lying out on the desk, and Jared fishing through junk and candy bars for the spare lube he keeps there for precisely these kind of emergencies.
"Didn't think you… thought you were busy," Jensen's saying, can't quite believe there's room in his lungs for talking, urge to shut up rising as Jared yanks of the rest of his clothes, time thankfully slowing down as he strips off his shirt.
It's a little hard to concentrate, blood rushing from his head and straight to his dick, the pale hues of newspaper clippings and memorabilia surrounding them, almost watching.
Little disconcerting, too, always has been, to see that scrawny, pretty twink version of himself in the photographs, that person he hasn't been for years.
"Not anymore," Jared grunts, slicking up his fingers, involuntarily thrusting against Jensen’s thigh.
"Oh, that's good. Great," Jensen lamely corrects as he barely has enough presence of mind to pull his slacks off. His mind then dies when Jared rolls the condom down his cock, slicking the lube down his shaft.
Jared leans over Jensen, spreading his thighs. "Ready?"
Jensen groans, nodding his yes, a hand snaking up to pull Jared head down, kissing his jaw, his neck. Half of his vision is a blur, glasses crooked on his nose, fireworks dancing behind his eyelids as Jared pushes in a slippery finger, then another.
It's habit that they do this, because he doesn't need to-Jensen is pliant and arching up under Jared, ready to take all of him right now, body flexing. It's almost teasing Jensen, carrying this on like he can't take it all at once.
And then Jared nods, bangs brushing Jensen's forehead as he braces a hand on the desk edge, the other on the round of Jensen's hip, lining them up. Pushing him just so, until he pushes in, slowly, Jensen clenching around him.
He feels tight and loose all at once, tense around Jared's dick, his own cock rubbing against Jared's belly. Jared's hand adds to the friction, his slow pulls becoming erratic and fast. Loose, as his legs go slack, wrapping around Jared's, pulling him tighter and deeper.
But Jared still knows the right angle, the last few strokes teasing, then pushing, tension building in Jared's body. It's a tightness that Jensen feels he's fighting against as he can't take it. One more stroke against his prostate and he's a goner. It's too much, and Jared sucks his tongue between his lips then bites Jensen's bottom lip.
"It's okay, Jensen," he says. "Let go."
It isn't long before Jensen's going off, feeling anchored by Jared's grip and gaze, body completely solid for once, spurting come on his belly. And Jared is pretty much gone after that, his kiss dragging along Jensen's jaw, an exhale of breath against his neck.
Jared rests his weight on an elbow, barely able to stand if it wasn't for Jensen's legs wrapping him tight. His fingertips ghost along the curve of Jensen's cheekbone, smiling down at him.
"You good?" he asks.
Jensen looks over the rims of his glasses, which have completely steamed over from perspiration, trying to look nonchalant. Meanwhile, his body doesn't agree with him, about to turn into a puddle as Jared pulls out. "Yes-Yeah, I'm… I'm great."
Jared grins devilishly and helps Jensen to his feet, biting back a laugh when Jensen wobbles forward.
*
The Gaming Room has never looked better when it's only them, sitting on the floor and laughing their asses off at old stories and pictures. It's the kind of laughing fit that only comes every so often, until their sides are hurting, the aches inside of him just as pleasing as the ache of a full belly laugh.
And when there's Jared to lean on, Jensen can't ask for anything better.
Maybe a better public image representative, for one thing. This minute, it's action figures. Before, it had been a cereal box with their faces plastered on the aged surface.
Jared gingerly tugs at the action figure's rubbery arms, his breathing evening out. Jensen tries to clamp down the giggles, sucking in a breath and coughing. He can feel the shift of muscles in Jared's arms, how his head turns, hair in his eyes.
"Eve has a boyfriend, doesn't she?" Jared says, his voice small. "I heard you two talking."
Jensen whistles as he straightens. "Eavesdropping?"
"Come on, man."
"Sorry."
"Does she, though?"
With Jared still and quiet at his side, it's hard to pull away from the source of support and warmth. But Jensen does, turning to look Jared in the eye. "She's… interested. Didn't think it would be this soon."
"Pretty soon Zac's gonna borrow the SUV. Cruise for chicks," Jared says with a laugh, knowing it'll make Jensen roll his eyes.
"They turned out to be pretty good kids," Jensen says, looking up at Jared's desk.
It's one of the few pieces of furniture that's not steeped in the past in this room, the surface haphazardly covered with the usual office supplies, Jared's laptop, and small framed photos. Everything that Jared had knocked over in the heat of the moment that they then scrambled to put back on afterwards.
One of the framed photos is as close as they've ever gotten to a family portrait, this geeky photo of the four of them at Disney World: the adults making faces, and their kids grinning wide, Mickey Mouse ears at an angle. Only a few years old and yet it seems like a lifetime ago-it's before Areion and this new neighborhood. Before the last time there were problems and they needed to be relocated.
Jared seems to notice Jensen's staring, hand reaching out to grab at his thigh.
"They are. Is this kid good enough for our Eve?" Jared asks, his eyes widening. "Oh, crap. We've got a teenager. How did we get a teenager?"
"Cloning?"
Jared pushes his hair off his face, more sarcasm than worry. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
*
The changes get even weirder.
What pass for routines and schedule in the household exist so that Jensen isn't driven insane. He's a little meticulous, a little overanalyzing, a little OCD and… okay, fine, he might be a little insane, but he has reason to be. An unstable molecular structure. Three kids: a teenager, an eight year old, and a kid still potty training. A busy job, a mortgage, PTA meetings, house problems that never get fixed because he'd rather be solving computer equations than cleaning out the gutters.
He has schedules for exactly these reasons.
Only over the past few weeks, it's become the opposite.
Jared starts to pick up the kids from school-not only on the random day he's gotten out of work early. He takes Zac out to the track field on weekends to practice, as though he's satisfied with that now instead of pushing for their son to try out for the team. Other times, it's going to museums with Eve and buying her paint supplies. And Areion looks delighted at having another person to feed him and make faces basically all of the time.
It isn't like he didn't do these things before. It's just that Jensen doesn't have to ask him to do them, and they're a little more regimented now, less haphazard and on a whim.
It's weird.
And on one hot Saturday, it starts to get distracting.
"He mowed the backyard," Jensen says, his tone clipped as he looks over the latest project reports. From what little he can glean off the recent classified experiments, they've been costly and slow going.
It's a lot of numbers that swim in his head, making it hard to concentrate on the phone call he's on.
Over the phone, he can hear Areion make gurgling noises, which either indicates he needs to be changed or he might've eaten something weird again. Jensen wouldn't put it past him to eat Play-Doh again.
"What?" Misha says as he wrangles the phone out of Areion's reach.
"You asked me what's wrong with me and I'm telling you. He mowed the yard," Jensen replies dryly, eyes darting left and right as he stares at the computer screen.
Jensen doesn't have that much privacy in the facility, but for once, there's a lull in work, people in lab coats scattered here and there, talking, checking computers. His desk is somewhere beneath the mound of papers and folders, the messiness in his office work one vice he's never been able to shake. Being neurotic and keeping everything labeled and in order in the home comes naturally, but when it comes to his work, Jensen has a tendency to like the pack rat messiness of his cubicle. It's ordered in its own way: this tangle of objects that only he can navigate.
"Actually, I asked you how was your weekend?"
"So usually I mow the yard-" Though Jensen admits that this time it was trimmed nice and even-unlike Jensen's admittedly lazy stretching-an-arm-to-steer-while-typing-inside technique. "-but he wanted to, so I took a break with Areion."
This break involved stretching himself like a hammock between the trees out back, with Areion napping on Jensen's chest. He murmurs the detail under his breath so those around him can't hear, though he isn't sure Misha can either over the noise of Areion laughing.
"This is bad how?" Misha sounds confused.
"There was iced tea and tight jeans involved afterwards."
"You are acting like a teenager, you realize."
Jensen resists the urge to stretch his arm and bring over a stack of papers on the other side of the cubicle. He pushes off and rolls in his chair, keeping the cell tucked against his ear. "I'm well aware of that."
"Your interest in Jared shouldn't be detrimental. He is your husband after all."
"I think he's having a midlife crisis," Jensen insists. "And it's going to break my dick at this rate."
"Lovemaking should not be viewed as-"
"Oh, God, now I know what Eve felt."
Misha sighs, murmuring to Areion and likely shifting him from arm to arm. "Look, how is renewal in your relationship a bad thing?"
"We were supposed to get married and live in the suburbs and have three kids and grow old together, and now he's… Acting all weird. Like a teenager again."
"Is that so wrong?"
Jensen feels his composure threatening to slip, and so he straightens, glancing at his surroundings before whispering, "We're not supposed to make waves."
"But is it wrong, Jensen?" Misha repeats.
He feels relaxed all of a sudden, wondering whether it's due to mulling things over in his head or because of Misha's powers.
It isn't wrong. None of it is. It's great, actually. Jared is spending more time with the kids, no longer keeping to himself. They haven't been fighting for the longest, practically unable to keep their hands off each other. There's more bounce to Jared's step, more flashing his dimples, more laughing, this ease of mind and body that Jensen didn't know he missed.
It's not supposed to be weird-it's only surprising, is what it is, after all this drab and mundane for a while.
"No. No, you're right. I'll give him a call now. Thanks," Jensen says, hanging up. He dials Jared's office number, knowing his cell might be turned off, especially after the last time they called-and the phone sex had been hard to explain-and he gets the receptionist.
"Can I speak to Jared Padalecki? It's his husband."
"Jared Padalecki?" There's a pause on the other end, before the woman says, "I'm sorry, but Mr. Padalecki is no longer employed at Insuracare. He left the company three months ago."
The steady beep of call waiting and the group of scientists chatting nearby prevents Jensen from letting a litany of curses out, because he can only maintain civility for so long before he snaps.
"My mistake," he bites out before ending the call and answering the new call coming through.
"Jensen? It's Misha. I just got a call from a collectibles store about Jared's order being expanded on?"
Once Misha says 'collectibles store', everything starts to make sense.
*
It turns out that the fashion maven responsible for the superhero look of yesteryear is still in business and operates out of an old and musty collectibles store.
The place would be fitting if it wasn't so weird when Jensen strolls in, Eve and Zac following him into this slice of the past with complete disinterest. To the young customers already browsing in the store, he looks like a parent, or some middle aged 'old guy', which isn't helped when he's wearing baggy jeans (in all the wrong ways) and an old t-shirt of the local basketball team, confirming his uncool status.
The grey in his hair doesn't do much for the image either. Still, he used to be the subject of those action figures the kids are now examining, Eve pointing out one of Jensen's old enemies in miniature size.
Thing is, the collectibles are still living that life, snapshots of another time. Their bodies gleaming pristine and ageless in print and encased in glass, figurines that the kids pick up for a brief moment before dropping in favor of the next shiny toy.
Jensen makes his way to the back register, tapping his fingers on the countertop. The office door swings open, revealing a tiny, drab office, and a short, middle aged man who's slightly balding, staring at Jensen with wide eyes.
"Jensen?"
"Hey, Eric," Jensen replies warmly, feeling his mouth twist into a fake smile that doesn't meet his eyes. It happens when he's resisting the urge to squirm at how Eric scrutinizes him.
"Oh, wow, you got old."
Jensen frowns, opening his mouth to respond but Eric's already hustling him into the office, barking at the only other worker there to mind the store as he deals with one of his 'top customers.' He doesn't even get a chance to explain what he's doing there, not when Eric pushes one book spine in the tiny bookcase set inside the hideous '70s inspired wood-paneled wall and there's a secret passage in front of them.
Jensen has to admit that it's pretty cool.
One long elevator ride and a few hundred feet later, when they enter the secret space or hideout or whatever it is, underground, Jensen needs to revise the sentiment. It's awesome and slightly overwhelming, to see the large metal statues of heroes and panes of clear, lit up glass and computer panels.
The room is half battle station and half fashion factory, with rolls of silk, leather, and rubber line up against the walls, mannequin heads wearing different sized masks as a silent, faceless audience.
And in the middle of it all, Eric beams at him, that same guy who twenty five years before, presented Jensen and many others with their costumes with the same enthusiasm and reverence he's always had.
"Eric."
"Glad you're here! I'm not sure if I have the measurements right, since I did base it on seventeen year old figures when it came to you and guesstimated with the kids, and obviously your body has, uh, changed in the meantime." Eric nods, pressing his thumb against a panel and typing in a series of codes with his other hand. "It's ninety five percent spandex. Stretches. Other five percent's cotton. Cotton breathes."
Trying to interrupt Eric Kripke is a lost cause, especially when he has the ability to take words and thoughts away as easily as pressing a button. A button that involves walls sliding away to reveal a tableau of suspended costumes of different sizes, all in red material and black leather gloves and boots. Each mannequin has a raised 'I' logo emblazoned on the chest in leather, and the black domino masks all look like Jared's old mask.
A teenage girl, a young boy, and even a red onesie.
The fact that the adult male costume is being pulled and twisted into lengthy directions by robot arms doesn't throw Jensen. What throws him is the flamethrower that starts to charbroil the baby outfit as Eric's saying, "…impervious to up to a thousand degrees!"
"What the fuck is going on here?" Jensen finally sputters.
"I know!" Eric exclaims, waving his arms at the costumes. "They're all works of art! Perfection! Words fail me too."
"This… I… It's invisible?" Jensen's voice rises as he sees the girl costume shimmer and disappear for a second, before becoming visible again. "Why did you make these? We're civilians now! Jared and I don't do that any more. It's in the past."
"I felt compelled to expand on his order. It's a challenge! Oh and don't worry about paying, I put it on Frozone's tab. He owes me big time for recommending the nipples on the Clooney Batsuit. I'll never live that job down," Eric sniffles.
As though he can tell how desperately Jensen needs a drink right now, Eric presses another button and a floor panel rotates out of the ground to reveal two chairs and a table with glasses and scotch. Jensen ignores the glass and heads right for the bottle, sucking down a gulp before wiping his mouth and pointing at Eric. "So, Jared did come by. And short sentences, Eric, otherwise we'll see the return of ElastiBoy. Starting with an elastic fist to the face."
Eric immediately sits down, posture straight. For all his talk, he's still able to get nervous.
Jensen wasn't always the science and tech geek. He's known for getting his way, whether it involved negotiation by talking or by force.
"Jared was so excited about it-he had big plans and, of course, I listened but you know how he is, he likes pink and plaid and it's… a mess. So I went with the red. Bold without coming off like a jerk. Maybe a little Flash in there too-" Off Jensen's glare, Eric starts to hurry, continuing, "I thought you knew! Unless he's doing some covert ops, which is lame because I totally would've gone with the camouflage and upped the invisible print."
Jensen rubs the bridge of his nose. "He's doing missions? For what…"
The wheels start to click into place. Fast.
"It's not a midlife crisis. He's doing missions! He's…" Jensen takes another gulp of the scotch. "That's why he's gotten back into shape. That's why we keep having all the sex. That's why he's-I'm going to kill him."
"For the sex?"
"No!" Jensen barks, standing up abruptly. "And now he's going to get himself killed."
"Actually, he seems pretty stationary to me," Eric says, his gaze focused on one of the glowing computer screens above. It's a map of the coast, with a huge compound near the water, and right in the middle of it, a glowing red dot.
If Eric happens to fall over when Jensen shoves him out of the way to look, well, that's punishment for enabling Jared to return to super heroics. Without telling Jensen.
"You put a tracking device on him?"
Eric shrugs. "I like to know where my work is. And where any super heroics occur, there's always a need for a tailor."
He gestures at the panel, but Jensen is already moving closer. Now everything else seems to fade in the background, all his focus on that blinking little light, the one that will lead him to answers.
"Uh, you know, if you want the coordinates, you just need to press the button."
So he does.
And that's how it all goes to hell.
*
Whenever they had done group missions, ElastiBoy was always the Tech Support. Part of it had been because his powers didn't make him one of the heavy hitters, and the other part being that he liked being in the background, keeping his shyness private.
Part of it also had to do with how, being the Tech Support, he didn't have to fly the league jet. That was always Jared's job.
Except one called in favor and three hours later, he's feeling green around the gills and fighting the urge to vomit all over the flight controls of the loaned jet. Thankfully, knowing how to control it comes to him easy enough, like riding a very expensive, very technical, very enormous bicycle. His arms stretch up and twist fast enough to reach all the controls.
Outside, the weather is clear and free of clouds, the horizon turning pink and orange from the setting sun. Hills and grey lengths of highway stretch out beneath before he's heading out over the coast, water rippling below. The radio silence is strange and unnerving, before he starts to hear rustling.
There are little shuffling noises nearby. Maybe it's the voices that Jared had joked about. Perfect. Delusions as a side effect from nausea.
Jensen dials Misha's cell, skipping the pleasantries once he picks up. "Are the kids okay?"
"Hello to you too," Misha replies dryly. "I'm just watching the little one. After you dropped off Even and Zac, Eve said that you were supposed to take them to a museum exhibit that opens today. The new dinosaur on display? Anyway, Ben came by and picked them up."
Jensen's brow furrows, not from the readings on the screen, but from Misha's statement. "What? That exhibit opened last week and who the hell is Ben?"
"Ben Edlund? He works with Kripke. He had some kind of power but he liked to use it for behind-the-scenes stuff. Can't remember what it was."
"Imagination. He came up with the most cracked out ideas," Jensen answers through gritted teeth."
So, he's definitely hearing voices. He says a hurried goodbye and hangs up before turning around to see a flicker of movement back in the rear cockpit passenger seats. An arm stretches out, meaning to pass through air but it just misses his son and daughter, materializing into view suddenly. Gleaming red and black, their costumes fit them perfectly, black masks making their eyes stand out brightly.
It's a testament to Jensen's sanity that the first thing he thinks is wondering how Eve can project her invisibility now, shielding Zac from view.
He follows the thought with saying, "How did you get your brother to stand so still?"
"Hey!" Zac pouts, arms folding. "I can totally stay still!"
"You are totally grounded," Jensen snaps, gritting his teeth. It explains how he felt weird getting the jet, feeling like he'd been watched-and he was, managing not to notice his two kids tagging along for the ride. "You shouldn't be here! I can't believe you'd go and-"
"We're family," Eve says, bracing an arm against Jensen's chair. She looks up at the horizon outside, eyes vibrant green and looking older than she is. "We do this together."
"I can't even believe this-damn it, Ben."
"Don't blame Mr. Edlund," Eve interjects. "He said we were supposed to be doing this."
"He explained it with these puppets," Zac agrees. He punches his first into his palm, ready to take on the world. "We gotta save Dad."
Jensen can't deny that he feels a flare of pride deep down, heart clenching. But this is not the time for junior heroics. Not when lives are at stake. "No, that is not what we're doing. You two are going to-"
He stops short, a loud series of beeps on the radar coming on. "What the-Abort, abort! Friendly approaching, abort-Kids, put your seatbelts-shit, abort, there are children aboard!"
They don't get a chance to lock the seat belts. Not when a missile plows into the jet.
They don't get to do much of anything else after that.
*
The drop feels endless, but in reality it's a few seconds. His body goes on overdrive, forming a parachute and pulling the kids to safety in his arms, the ground rising up quickly beneath them. He catches a gust of air and manages to slow their descent into a thicket of trees. Shrapnel rains down, the flaming chunks of aircraft barely missing them as they run, Zac pulling Eve and yelling at her to run faster.
A few hundred feet and seven unconscious henchmen later, Jensen is slinking through the compound, trying to not to vomit from air sickness or get caught by guards. Getting caught is a little more difficult when wearing bright red spandex that's very unflattering on his midsection-or his legs, because knee high boots? Really? Emphasizing his bow legs, awesome.
The compound itself looks like the standard empty warehouse fare with a dash of douchebag condo thrown in. Huge trucks with tarps and some small jets are parked around the area, to add to the Hollywood action movie and militaristic feel of it. It's sturdy walls and only one floor, something Jensen doesn't get until he spies the large elevator inside of the building, leading right down to what has to be an underground complex.
"Dad?"
Jensen jerks, hitting his head on the wall beneath the window he'd been looking through. The air shimmers in front of him, revealing Eve and Zac crouching near him.
"I want you both to stay in the shadows, all right? Eve, do me a favor and watch your brother. Don't touch anything and don't you dare follow me," Jensen instructs, shushing Zac as he groans. "Stay together. If they see you, I want you to run."
"Why can't we fight?" Zac says, craning his neck as though he's looking for someone to practice this urge on.
"Because if you fight, there's a chance you're going to get hurt. This isn't like the movies. Bad guys don't fight fair. They could… I couldn't live with myself if you two-" Jensen swallows audibly. "Just. Listen to me. Stay hidden and you'll stay safe."
Eve nods, pulling Zac to stand near her. The air shimmers again and both of the kids are invisible save for the light footprints they leave as they run for the cover of the nearby forest.
And he's alone.
Jensen hates leaving the kids behind, chest feeling too heavy and tight. He doesn't want to bring them into this. To have to watch their eyes, how the world shifts as they realize it's not a game. It's real and he's lived it, and now he's raising his kids to do the same.
However, as much as he hates how easily he snaps back into his mindset of days long gone by, now is not the time to dwell.
Now is the time to get to work.
*
As impenetrable as the compound should be with all its henchmen and surveillance, it is surprisingly easy for Jensen to bypass security. He might not have used his powers for this particular purpose in years, but all it takes is stretching that old muscle. Or all of his muscles in order to fit through the cracks and edges of doors, stretching himself paper thin to get past.
Jensen slinks through the passages, slipping down into the elevator chute when a guard looks the other way. He presses himself flat against the elevator car once it begins to move down. Convenient.
Turns out he's still good at doing this. Even if the paper thin stretching is wearing him out a bit. He holds his breath, face inches away from the rough stone walls that zoom by as the elevator glides down.
The elevator slows to a stop and Jensen hustles himself out. It's a stone hallway with thick steel doors, technical readouts with red and green lights glowing. Right behind this door though, the energy levels are off the charts.
The two henchmen are knocked down in mere seconds, barely getting out shouts of surprise as Jensen shoots his fists out in the convenient shape of hammers. He whips his fists into their faces, hard. The old 1-2 knockout.
Jensen has never been one to rely on luck or chance. But he murmurs under his breath, please be okay, once he swipes one of the henchmen's key cards and the doors slide open.
Part Three