Fire In The Hole 2/6
FIRE IN THE HOLE 2/6
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4,666
Beta: candygramme
Disclaimer: There is absolutely no truth to this and I am not earning a penny.
Warnings: violence, adult, language, political themes, homophobia
Summary: At seventeen and growing up in a white supremacist camp, Jared's life is going nowhere fast. He doesn't feel like he belongs, but sees no way out - until the arrival of a new member shakes things up in the paramilitary group. Jared doesn't know whether he should be intrigued or afraid of Jensen Ackles, but when he gets caught in the power play around him coming to a head, he's left with little choice in the matter.
ART POST . STORY MASTERPOST
<< PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Part Two
The slide of the gun gave easily as he pulled it off with a metallic rasp to start cleaning the inside of the barrel. The smell of weapon oil and cleaning supplies was strong, and Jared tried not to breathe in too much of it as he grabbed the brush to properly get rid of the soot that had collected on the metal.
He was sitting in the grass in front of their cabin, an assortment of rifles and a revolver lying next to him on an old blanket. He preferred to do this outside where the fresh air could carry away the dirt and the smell. When he was done, he replaced the pieces of the gun with practised motions, a well known concert of clicks reassuring that everything was set in its place. He reloaded the magazine and slipped it in, cocking the gun and testing it before switching the safety securely into place.
The finished weapon was set aside on the blanket, and he grabbed a long Winchester hunting rifle to start the whole process again. A song was running through his head that he couldn’t quite remember the words to, and he nodded his head to the rhythm humming somewhat off tune while resuming his work.
He tried not to watch openly when he saw Jensen walk down to the main cabin a few stone throws down the street. The man was wearing ripped jeans and the familiar green parka, looking ruggedly handsome - and Jared didn’t just think that! - when he rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. Even though he did his best not to be seen looking, Jared’s work speed definitely slowed as his eyes kept jumping back and forth from his work to the man now talking to Clay, who emerged from the community hall with squinting eyes like some nocturnal animal.
They were quite a distance away, too far to hear even the rumble of their voices as they talked, but Jared could read their body language like an open book. Clay had his hands on his hips and an annoyed frown on his face, lips pursed as Jensen spoke. The younger man had his arms crossed in front of his chest, legs standing wide, in a stance that was broader than his hips, and the line of his back was tense. They didn’t look happy.
Jared physically flinched when Jensen spun around on the heel of his boot and stalked away from Clay with long strides. He was coming right towards their house, and Jared gave up all pretence of not watching to stare at the grim looking man as he stomped up the road.
“Is your dad home, Jared?” Jensen’s voice was strict but not as angry as Jared would have expected from the stony look on his face.
“Y-Yeah”, he stammered, a little floored by being pulled into something that seemed to be anything but good.
Jensen only nodded before making his short way to the door, hammering against it and throwing it open. He walked inside before there even was an answer, and Jared frowned, putting down the rifle he had been cleaning and following the man inside. As much as he didn’t want to get caught up in any of the militia’s activities, his curiosity and worry forced him to go and check anyway.
He bumped into Jensen when the man stopped abruptly as soon as he saw Jared’s dad on the living room couch. The teen caught himself with a hand on the man’s back and tried to ignore the memory of the last time they had bumped together. “What… Jensen, what’s going on?”
The man huffed loudly, eyes narrowing as he looked at the older man snoring away on the couch before skipping to the bottles that sat on the low coffee table. When he turned around Jared jumped out of the way instinctively and followed the man as he trudged back outside, still none the wiser.
“Jensen?”
“You know how to drive, Jared?”
“Yeah, I… of course.” He shrugged, bundling the guns he’d been cleaning into the blanket and stowing them inside the house to close the door. Something told him that he wouldn’t get to finish the job today anyway.
“Good. You’re coming with me then. Grab your jacket.” Jensen seemed in a hurry, and Jared obeyed without thought, but as he pulled the door closed behind himself and slipped his jacket on, his steps faltered.
“Where are we going?”
“I got some business to take care of.”
Jared swallowed, looking around as if to find an escape and did only see the same old town in the nowhere. “Shouldn’t you take one of the men then?”
“You are one of the men, Jared. Clay said to ‘take Padalecki,’ and since your dad is wasted on the couch, you’ll have to do.”
He waved for Jared to follow him, and the teen did, chewing his lip nervously. He never got to go with anyone for these kinds of things. They didn’t trust him to have the balls, and that was probably a good thing. “Are you sure?” It sounded a little plaintive, but he couldn’t help the discomfort that spread through his spine.
“Are you gonna make any trouble?” Jensen cocked an eyebrow at him, and Jared shook his head immediately. “Will you do exactly as I say and stay in the car when I tell you to?” He nodded just as quickly, knowing that he would actually prefer staying in the car.
“Then we’re good.” Jensen flashed him a grin, before grabbing the shoulder of his jacket and pulling him towards a car.
Jared stayed in the car as promised about an hour later and watched as Jensen walked into a house that looked like a weird mix of a taxidermist's home and a crackhouse. He was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable and counted the minutes until Jensen’s return - twenty-three for those who cared to know.
He didn’t know what was going on, or what Jensen was doing in there, but he didn’t ask and decided that he didn’t want to know either. When Jensen slipped into the seat next to him once more, the angry tension that had had his body tight as an bowstring seemed less pronounced, and for a moment Jared wondered if the man was high, but his eyes were clear, and his movements precise, and as Jared pulled out of the street to head back towards the next town, Jensen turned to him with a grin.
“You did good, Jared.”
“I didn’t do anything.” He frowned at the steering wheel and set the indicator to change lanes.
“Exactly, and that’s how it was supposed to be… you want some ice cream? I could definitely go for some ice cream.”
Jared shrugged, looking at the older man with wide eyes. For a moment he wondered if Jensen was bipolar, but all he saw was the cheeky smile that he knew well enough by now, before he was told to park the car by the general store down the street. Jared shrugged off his worry and this time got out the truck when Jensen inclined his head for him to tag along.
It was weirdly comfortable to stand in front of the long row of freezers with Jensen, trying to decide what he wanted and exchanging light-hearted banter over the different flavors and their implications on the character. Obviously Jensen believed that people liking “Rocky Road” must be closeted masochists - and topped that one up by saying that it would only be in style with whipped cream. Jared laughed heartily even though he knew that it really wasn’t that funny. But simply sharing something so normal with the first guy in ages that Jared genuinely wanted to get to know better was pure joy to him.
After taking way too long to decide they walked back to the cashier in satisfied silence. Jared’s happiness only went as far as the door, because his heart dropped into his pants when he saw the Sheriff’s car parked right next to theirs, and the uniformed man leaning against it.
He could feel Jensen bristle next to him, muscles stiffening and back straightening from his comfortable slump to full height. His steps didn’t falter as he made his way back to their truck.
“Afternoon, Sheriff”, Jensen nodded at the man with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Anything the matter?”
Jared wanted to slink away to the passenger side of the car but was rooted to the spot by Jensen’s shoulder.
“I don’t think we know each other. I’m Sheriff Morgan, and this is my town. I need to see your licence, please.” The Sheriff didn’t even pretend his smile to be a friendly one.
Jensen raised an amused eyebrow for a moment and Jared found himself wondering what on earth could be funny about this. Sheriff Morgan didn’t like the Brothers, had made it his personal vendetta to make their lives as hard as possible.
“Why, Sheriff? I’m not even inside that car yet.”
“Don’t think I’m a fool. I know exactly what you are, Mister, and I’d like a name to put to that face of yours.”
Jensen snorted a little but nodded, pulling his wallet out of his jeans and handing the man his licence. “You do? You must be a mind reader, Sir.”
Sheriff Morgan’s eyes narrowed as he tried to stare Jensen down. “No. But I know your kind, and I know that you’ll be trouble. Just like the owner of that truck, and just like that boy’s old man.” He nodded a sharp nod towards Jared, who held his breath under the scrutiny.
“It’s easy to judge a man simply by association.”
“You white nationalists have been around here for a while, Mr. Ackles, and so have I.” He handed the licence back to Jensen who took it with a sneer.
“I’m a patriot, sir. I served my country, I killed for my country, and I am living my life the way I want. The constitution of the United States of America gives me freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right to own a gun and defend myself. I don’t do anything wrong, so unless there's anything you need, I’d appreciate it to not be harassed by you any longer… my ice cream is melting.”
Jensen’s smile had vanished, and Jared admired the Sheriff a little for not shrinking away when Jensen was standing defiantly right there in his face, more than ready to pick a fight. After they had stared at each other for a few agonizing seconds, Morgan cracked a humorless smile before putting his hat back onto his head and tilting it in goodbye. The man walked around his car and got in behind the wheel. Jensen didn’t move until the Sheriff’s car had pulled away.
When the tension drained away from the man’s shoulders, Jared finally dared move. He was a little startled when Jensen frowned for a second before physically shaking off the grimness to smile up at Jared once more, hand clapping onto the teen’s shoulder.
“Come on, open that ice cream before it melts, Jared.”
- -
This new guy didn't sit well with JD. Jensen Ackles was bad news, he could feel it. He was spouting the usual nationalist ideology Jeff had heard so many times before. But something was odd about the man. He was almost aggressive in his behaviour, but somehow he seemed more witty than the usual inbreds JD had to deal with when it came to the Brothers. Of course there were other clever ones in that group. Clay Cooper, their leader, wasn't a complete idiot either.
But intelligent fanatics are a lot more dangerous than stupid ones, and Jeff really didn't need another big player in town. So he decided to learn more about this man who was giving him such a bad feeling.
As it turned out Jensen Ross Ackles, 26 years old and born in Texas, did have a file, and it didn't make JD feel any better about the man. He was the poster boy for a dysfunctional and possibly violent young man: a father with a record for domestic abuse, a mother with several drunk disturbances on her slate. If their son had a juvenile record, it was sealed by now. But he had signed up with the Army right out of high school and served five years and two tours in the middle east.
JD assumed that there would have been a violent pattern in the man's service record as well, but he didn't have the strings to actually look into that or find out the reason for the man's discharge. Until that point Ackles' life could have been that of a good kid rising from the ashes of a bad childhood. But then things had turned ugly.
Jeffrey reread the priors again and felt his stomach sink. Why did a sociopath from Texas with a dropped bomb charge - due to a mess-up of the prosecution, not the man's innocence - end up in his town of all places? JD had followed the Texan case closely, followed all public cases like this closely... but now he had one of them living only a few miles away from his own home. This was bad.
- -
They sat on the hood of the car in the parking lot, Jensen seemingly unbothered by the hostility he had just encountered. Either he didn’t notice the stares he got from the passersby, or he simply didn’t acknowledge them. People had probably either seen the stand-off between them - or rather Jensen, really - and the Sheriff, or simply recognized Jared or the beat up truck with the bumper stickers that left no doubt about its owner’s political orientation.
Jared kept his eyes to the ice cream as he spooned it into his mouth while Jensen was humming beside him. When a hand closed around Jared’s wrist, stopping his hand halfway to his mouth, the teen blinked up to see green eyes watch him intently.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Jay. Can I call you Jay?”
Jared shrugged, not really used to being called by any nickname other than “boy” or “kid,” but not really minding Jensen choosing one for him. Actually it was weirdly exciting to think about it. Only friends had nick names for one another, and Jared didn’t really have any friends. Jensen might sometimes scare the crap out of him - and hello, the guy just practically picked a fight with a cop! - but he was always nice to Jared, and that went a long way in the teen’s mind.
“Why do you look like I make you eat lemons instead of ice cream, Jay?” An eyebrow rose inquiringly, but the small upward tilt of Jensen’s lips made it clear that he wasn’t making accusations.
“Nothing, I just…” He sighed, blushing at being such a baby sometimes and dipped his head down again.
“You’re uncomfortable with that dickhead cop, and the way all of the sheep are staring at us like we’re gonna eat them, right?” Despite the phrasing, it was obvious that Jensen wasn’t voicing a question but a statement. He saw right through Jared, and it made the younger man’s heart beat a little faster with a mix of excitement and fear.
He didn’t deny it, instead shrugging while smiling sheepishly at the man beside him. Playing dumb would only make him seem like a tool, and somehow it mattered to him what Jensen thought about him a lot more than it did with most people.
Jensen didn’t chide him, instead slinging one arm around Jared’s shoulders in a man hug, grabbing Jared’s wrist once more and pulling his hand up to lick the half-molten ice cream off Jared's abandoned spoon, smacking his lips with a satisfied grin. Jared found himself mesmerized, eyes glued to Jensen’s lips as he flicked his tongue over pink skin to catch a stray drop of liquid vanilla. He felt a lot warmer than the weather should permit and was pretty sure that he was blushing furiously, but if Jensen noticed, he probably attributed it to Jared’s embarrassment over their topic of conversation, rather than his unfavorable reaction to Jensen’s mouth around Jared’s spoon - and when did that start sounding dirty anyway?
“Don’t let them get to you, Jared. They are just scared. Scared of new ideas and of the possibility of change, that someone stronger could take over, and they wouldn’t be able to scrape by any longer as the lemmings they are.” Jensen squeezed Jared’s shoulder for a moment before plucking the spoon out of the teen’s fingers and helping himself to more ice cream.
Jared didn’t really have the capacity to argue politics with Jensen when the man was so close and so... uninhibited. Instead he just shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s scared of me.”
Jensen chuckled for a moment, eyebrow rising as his eyes sized the younger man up with a few precise sweeps. “Why not? You’re tall, you’re young… and other than those puppy eyes and the weird hair, you look like more of a man than most of those morons.”
Jared frowned self-consciously pushing his bangs out of his face, lip between his teeth. He didn’t expect Jensen to ruffle a hand through his hair with a bellowing laugh. “Oh, C’mon, Jay! I’m just poking fun at you.” Green eyes sparkled, and Jared stared at the man who had him running hot and cold like nobody’s business. “Don’t worry. I like your hair.”
He received a green-eyed wink and felt his mouth go dry at the things it did to him, swallowing hard before pushing a smile onto his face and taking a big spoon of melting ice cream into his mouth to get rid of that dry feeling and save himself from having to come up with any kind of answer.
It was weird, sitting there on the hood of the truck in a parking lot where everybody could see them, exchanging easy banter and careless physical contact. Jared hadn’t known that he craved this, wanted it so much that it hurt when Jensen pulled his arm away and slipped off the hood, telling Jared that they’d better start heading back with a lopsided grin. The teen just nodded, smiling back and slipping back to his feet with a silent sigh. He didn’t know how long Jensen would be around, if he had come to stay or just as a pit-stop on his way to another chapter, different Brothers. The thought made Jared frown as he slipped into the passenger seat, because, for once, Jared cared about someone enough to hope they would stay around.
It was an unwelcome realization, making Jared’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He didn’t like depending on other people for his own happiness, because he had learned at the age of eleven that people didn’t care if you loved them. They still left you behind.
“Where have you been?”
Jared stopped in the doorway, pulling off his jacket, lip pulled between two rows of white teeth. He shrugged hanging his jacket onto the hook in the hallway.
“Jensen needed someone to drive with him to do some kind of business.”
“And he took you of all people?” Jared’s father snorted, getting off the couch and wandering into the kitchen a little unsteadily to, no doubt, grab himself another beer.
Jared bit the inside of his cheek, keeping the words that were on the tip of his tongue in check. He knew that his dad would not react favorably at being told that at least Jared wasn’t completely shit-faced in the middle of the day. “There wasn’t really anything to do. I just sat in the car and waited for him to come back.”
“Did he buy you flowers, too?” The grin on his father’s face was mocking at best, and Jared frowned knowing that it was just trash-talk, because if his father really suspected Jared of any gayness, he would react quite differently. He was just being mean, and Jared should let it pearl off him, but he couldn’t, rather feeling that sting of rejection that he should have gotten used to a long while ago but never really had.
When his dad didn’t say anything else but just brushed past him to sit on the couch once more, Jared simply shook his head, reigning in the sigh that wanted to bubble up. A simple thing like a sigh could be enough to tick his father off these days, especially after a day with that much beer and that little productive energy. So Jared kept quiet, packing up the bundle of half-cleaned guns that lay by the door, still untouched, and putting them safely away. It wouldn’t do to have his dad shoot himself - or Jared - when too drunk to know which way was up.
Jared didn’t want to start watching Jensen, actually he planned to ignore the man as much as he could, to spare himself the complications that were sure to arise with any extra minute he spent contemplating him. However, to his own frustration he caught himself watching pretty much every time Jensen was around, which was quite frequently, since the community consisted of only a few dozen people, and Jared spent most of his time sitting outside when the weather permitted it, reading, drawing or doing chores. He had started doing his readings and school work on the porch outside, if only to avoid any and all conflict with his dad. The less they interacted the better, and with Jared’s growing wariness of the whole situation he was in, he had tried to minimize conflict as much as possible. Even teenage rebellion just wasn’t worth some things.
But as effective as this strategy was for avoiding his father, being outside meant that Jared saw Jensen practically every time he would walk through the community. Sometimes Jensen would come over and chat, even sit with him for a bit when he wasn’t busy doing whatever it was that he did - and Jared was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.
In any case, his plan of avoiding Jensen to stop the seriously inappropriate feelings that swirled though him whenever Jensen laughed with him or put an arm around his shoulders, was not working out. Maybe part of that was due to the fact that Jared just wasn’t trying hard enough. Although he was more than aware on a rational level that he was digging himself in deeply at quite a pace, he enjoyed the way he felt around Jensen and the way they were becoming friends at least as much as it scared him.
So he didn’t really protest when Jensen started sitting next to him during community dinner. Even though they didn’t really talk much at the dinner table, just the man’s presence on his left made the whole thing less wearing than it had been in years. Usually Jared sat next to his dad with his eyes on his plate and his mouth shut, only really acknowledging anything or anyone when directly addressed. He knew that some of the men actually thought that he was a little retarded, because he didn’t say much, while others just thought that he was pussy, too shy to really be good for anything.
Shy wasn’t the right word though. Scared might be better, or simply introverted as a reaction to the insecurity he felt towards himself and his environment - and really, he should not have read that psychology book last month. However Jared didn’t care enough to correct them. If they thought he was as dumb as a box of rocks the only thing they’d do was pick on him. At least they wouldn’t expect anything from him, and that was the reason he didn’t mind playing the idiot every now and again.
Boots on the floor behind him made Jared duck his head hiding the small smile that pulled on his mouth when someone slipped into the seat next to his. Their elbows brushed, and Jared could feel the heat of another body so close it felt like Jensen was radiating at one hundred-thirty degrees. Maybe Jared’s hormones would soon kill all that was left of his sanity, and he could die in peace from his own imagination.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Hey.” He looked up, unable to keep from returning the smile Jensen gave him.
They didn’t say anything more, since the community had assembled, and Clay was standing at the head of the front table. “My brothers and sisters, let’s praise the Lord for this meal…”
Jared switched off after that, knowing that there would be no significant difference between this prayer and the ones he had heard over the last years. They would thank god for the constitution and this country and pray for the end of the current presidency that the Brothers thought was an illegal act of treachery or something like that.
“Amen.” Jensen’s voice alerted him to the end of the ritual, loud and deep-pitched as ever. Jared glanced sideways, wondering if Jensen spoke with as much conviction as his clear voice expressed, or if he was just a lot better trained than Jared.
Sometimes Jared couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had brought a guy like Jensen to the Brothers. It wasn’t that his story didn’t meet all the places that made him perfect militia material, but the thing that bothered Jared in all this wasn’t his military service record or his obvious grudge against society and politics, but his character.
Jensen didn’t strike him as a man of hatred. He was good to Jared, the only person here who made an effort, despite Jared’s well practised isolation, and the fact that he just really didn’t fit in. Jensen was befriending the weird kid, but then he seemed to befriend pretty much everyone. He could be seen chatting with everybody throughout the week, and even Clay seemed to take a liking to the young man. That was even weirder when Jared thought about it. Clay didn’t like nice people. Most of the guys who he took to were complete douche bags.
“So Jensen, Carl told me that you had a small misunderstanding with the Sheriff yesterday.” Will, who had lived in the community all thirty-something years of his life, had a lopsided grin on his face as he bit into the bread roll he had just pulled through some gravy. Jared lifted his attention away from the food to look at Jensen with more interest than he usually showed for anything. He could still remember the run-in with Sheriff Morgan they had had a while ago, and he knew that the man was probably not happy to see Jensen again.
The chuckle next to him was deep and throaty. “Yeah. The dickhead swept the truck. I think he called some people after our first encounter to ask around about me.”
“What do you think he found?”
Jensen rolled his eyes, waving Will off with a shrug. “Nothing in the truck, and those bomb charges never made it in front of a judge, so he can kiss my ass… But then he just might want to the way he seemed to enjoy patting me down against the car hood. Fucking pervert.”
The men around them started to laugh and joke quite happily, but Jared had to swallow hard around that lump in his throat. Maybe he had been wrong. Jensen fit in just fine.
NEXT CHAPTER >>
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4,666
Beta: candygramme
Disclaimer: There is absolutely no truth to this and I am not earning a penny.
Warnings: violence, adult, language, political themes, homophobia
Summary: At seventeen and growing up in a white supremacist camp, Jared's life is going nowhere fast. He doesn't feel like he belongs, but sees no way out - until the arrival of a new member shakes things up in the paramilitary group. Jared doesn't know whether he should be intrigued or afraid of Jensen Ackles, but when he gets caught in the power play around him coming to a head, he's left with little choice in the matter.
ART POST . STORY MASTERPOST
<< PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Part Two
The slide of the gun gave easily as he pulled it off with a metallic rasp to start cleaning the inside of the barrel. The smell of weapon oil and cleaning supplies was strong, and Jared tried not to breathe in too much of it as he grabbed the brush to properly get rid of the soot that had collected on the metal.
He was sitting in the grass in front of their cabin, an assortment of rifles and a revolver lying next to him on an old blanket. He preferred to do this outside where the fresh air could carry away the dirt and the smell. When he was done, he replaced the pieces of the gun with practised motions, a well known concert of clicks reassuring that everything was set in its place. He reloaded the magazine and slipped it in, cocking the gun and testing it before switching the safety securely into place.
The finished weapon was set aside on the blanket, and he grabbed a long Winchester hunting rifle to start the whole process again. A song was running through his head that he couldn’t quite remember the words to, and he nodded his head to the rhythm humming somewhat off tune while resuming his work.
He tried not to watch openly when he saw Jensen walk down to the main cabin a few stone throws down the street. The man was wearing ripped jeans and the familiar green parka, looking ruggedly handsome - and Jared didn’t just think that! - when he rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. Even though he did his best not to be seen looking, Jared’s work speed definitely slowed as his eyes kept jumping back and forth from his work to the man now talking to Clay, who emerged from the community hall with squinting eyes like some nocturnal animal.
They were quite a distance away, too far to hear even the rumble of their voices as they talked, but Jared could read their body language like an open book. Clay had his hands on his hips and an annoyed frown on his face, lips pursed as Jensen spoke. The younger man had his arms crossed in front of his chest, legs standing wide, in a stance that was broader than his hips, and the line of his back was tense. They didn’t look happy.
Jared physically flinched when Jensen spun around on the heel of his boot and stalked away from Clay with long strides. He was coming right towards their house, and Jared gave up all pretence of not watching to stare at the grim looking man as he stomped up the road.
“Is your dad home, Jared?” Jensen’s voice was strict but not as angry as Jared would have expected from the stony look on his face.
“Y-Yeah”, he stammered, a little floored by being pulled into something that seemed to be anything but good.
Jensen only nodded before making his short way to the door, hammering against it and throwing it open. He walked inside before there even was an answer, and Jared frowned, putting down the rifle he had been cleaning and following the man inside. As much as he didn’t want to get caught up in any of the militia’s activities, his curiosity and worry forced him to go and check anyway.
He bumped into Jensen when the man stopped abruptly as soon as he saw Jared’s dad on the living room couch. The teen caught himself with a hand on the man’s back and tried to ignore the memory of the last time they had bumped together. “What… Jensen, what’s going on?”
The man huffed loudly, eyes narrowing as he looked at the older man snoring away on the couch before skipping to the bottles that sat on the low coffee table. When he turned around Jared jumped out of the way instinctively and followed the man as he trudged back outside, still none the wiser.
“Jensen?”
“You know how to drive, Jared?”
“Yeah, I… of course.” He shrugged, bundling the guns he’d been cleaning into the blanket and stowing them inside the house to close the door. Something told him that he wouldn’t get to finish the job today anyway.
“Good. You’re coming with me then. Grab your jacket.” Jensen seemed in a hurry, and Jared obeyed without thought, but as he pulled the door closed behind himself and slipped his jacket on, his steps faltered.
“Where are we going?”
“I got some business to take care of.”
Jared swallowed, looking around as if to find an escape and did only see the same old town in the nowhere. “Shouldn’t you take one of the men then?”
“You are one of the men, Jared. Clay said to ‘take Padalecki,’ and since your dad is wasted on the couch, you’ll have to do.”
He waved for Jared to follow him, and the teen did, chewing his lip nervously. He never got to go with anyone for these kinds of things. They didn’t trust him to have the balls, and that was probably a good thing. “Are you sure?” It sounded a little plaintive, but he couldn’t help the discomfort that spread through his spine.
“Are you gonna make any trouble?” Jensen cocked an eyebrow at him, and Jared shook his head immediately. “Will you do exactly as I say and stay in the car when I tell you to?” He nodded just as quickly, knowing that he would actually prefer staying in the car.
“Then we’re good.” Jensen flashed him a grin, before grabbing the shoulder of his jacket and pulling him towards a car.
Jared stayed in the car as promised about an hour later and watched as Jensen walked into a house that looked like a weird mix of a taxidermist's home and a crackhouse. He was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable and counted the minutes until Jensen’s return - twenty-three for those who cared to know.
He didn’t know what was going on, or what Jensen was doing in there, but he didn’t ask and decided that he didn’t want to know either. When Jensen slipped into the seat next to him once more, the angry tension that had had his body tight as an bowstring seemed less pronounced, and for a moment Jared wondered if the man was high, but his eyes were clear, and his movements precise, and as Jared pulled out of the street to head back towards the next town, Jensen turned to him with a grin.
“You did good, Jared.”
“I didn’t do anything.” He frowned at the steering wheel and set the indicator to change lanes.
“Exactly, and that’s how it was supposed to be… you want some ice cream? I could definitely go for some ice cream.”
Jared shrugged, looking at the older man with wide eyes. For a moment he wondered if Jensen was bipolar, but all he saw was the cheeky smile that he knew well enough by now, before he was told to park the car by the general store down the street. Jared shrugged off his worry and this time got out the truck when Jensen inclined his head for him to tag along.
It was weirdly comfortable to stand in front of the long row of freezers with Jensen, trying to decide what he wanted and exchanging light-hearted banter over the different flavors and their implications on the character. Obviously Jensen believed that people liking “Rocky Road” must be closeted masochists - and topped that one up by saying that it would only be in style with whipped cream. Jared laughed heartily even though he knew that it really wasn’t that funny. But simply sharing something so normal with the first guy in ages that Jared genuinely wanted to get to know better was pure joy to him.
After taking way too long to decide they walked back to the cashier in satisfied silence. Jared’s happiness only went as far as the door, because his heart dropped into his pants when he saw the Sheriff’s car parked right next to theirs, and the uniformed man leaning against it.
He could feel Jensen bristle next to him, muscles stiffening and back straightening from his comfortable slump to full height. His steps didn’t falter as he made his way back to their truck.
“Afternoon, Sheriff”, Jensen nodded at the man with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Anything the matter?”
Jared wanted to slink away to the passenger side of the car but was rooted to the spot by Jensen’s shoulder.
“I don’t think we know each other. I’m Sheriff Morgan, and this is my town. I need to see your licence, please.” The Sheriff didn’t even pretend his smile to be a friendly one.
Jensen raised an amused eyebrow for a moment and Jared found himself wondering what on earth could be funny about this. Sheriff Morgan didn’t like the Brothers, had made it his personal vendetta to make their lives as hard as possible.
“Why, Sheriff? I’m not even inside that car yet.”
“Don’t think I’m a fool. I know exactly what you are, Mister, and I’d like a name to put to that face of yours.”
Jensen snorted a little but nodded, pulling his wallet out of his jeans and handing the man his licence. “You do? You must be a mind reader, Sir.”
Sheriff Morgan’s eyes narrowed as he tried to stare Jensen down. “No. But I know your kind, and I know that you’ll be trouble. Just like the owner of that truck, and just like that boy’s old man.” He nodded a sharp nod towards Jared, who held his breath under the scrutiny.
“It’s easy to judge a man simply by association.”
“You white nationalists have been around here for a while, Mr. Ackles, and so have I.” He handed the licence back to Jensen who took it with a sneer.
“I’m a patriot, sir. I served my country, I killed for my country, and I am living my life the way I want. The constitution of the United States of America gives me freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right to own a gun and defend myself. I don’t do anything wrong, so unless there's anything you need, I’d appreciate it to not be harassed by you any longer… my ice cream is melting.”
Jensen’s smile had vanished, and Jared admired the Sheriff a little for not shrinking away when Jensen was standing defiantly right there in his face, more than ready to pick a fight. After they had stared at each other for a few agonizing seconds, Morgan cracked a humorless smile before putting his hat back onto his head and tilting it in goodbye. The man walked around his car and got in behind the wheel. Jensen didn’t move until the Sheriff’s car had pulled away.
When the tension drained away from the man’s shoulders, Jared finally dared move. He was a little startled when Jensen frowned for a second before physically shaking off the grimness to smile up at Jared once more, hand clapping onto the teen’s shoulder.
“Come on, open that ice cream before it melts, Jared.”
- -
This new guy didn't sit well with JD. Jensen Ackles was bad news, he could feel it. He was spouting the usual nationalist ideology Jeff had heard so many times before. But something was odd about the man. He was almost aggressive in his behaviour, but somehow he seemed more witty than the usual inbreds JD had to deal with when it came to the Brothers. Of course there were other clever ones in that group. Clay Cooper, their leader, wasn't a complete idiot either.
But intelligent fanatics are a lot more dangerous than stupid ones, and Jeff really didn't need another big player in town. So he decided to learn more about this man who was giving him such a bad feeling.
As it turned out Jensen Ross Ackles, 26 years old and born in Texas, did have a file, and it didn't make JD feel any better about the man. He was the poster boy for a dysfunctional and possibly violent young man: a father with a record for domestic abuse, a mother with several drunk disturbances on her slate. If their son had a juvenile record, it was sealed by now. But he had signed up with the Army right out of high school and served five years and two tours in the middle east.
JD assumed that there would have been a violent pattern in the man's service record as well, but he didn't have the strings to actually look into that or find out the reason for the man's discharge. Until that point Ackles' life could have been that of a good kid rising from the ashes of a bad childhood. But then things had turned ugly.
Jeffrey reread the priors again and felt his stomach sink. Why did a sociopath from Texas with a dropped bomb charge - due to a mess-up of the prosecution, not the man's innocence - end up in his town of all places? JD had followed the Texan case closely, followed all public cases like this closely... but now he had one of them living only a few miles away from his own home. This was bad.
- -
They sat on the hood of the car in the parking lot, Jensen seemingly unbothered by the hostility he had just encountered. Either he didn’t notice the stares he got from the passersby, or he simply didn’t acknowledge them. People had probably either seen the stand-off between them - or rather Jensen, really - and the Sheriff, or simply recognized Jared or the beat up truck with the bumper stickers that left no doubt about its owner’s political orientation.
Jared kept his eyes to the ice cream as he spooned it into his mouth while Jensen was humming beside him. When a hand closed around Jared’s wrist, stopping his hand halfway to his mouth, the teen blinked up to see green eyes watch him intently.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Jay. Can I call you Jay?”
Jared shrugged, not really used to being called by any nickname other than “boy” or “kid,” but not really minding Jensen choosing one for him. Actually it was weirdly exciting to think about it. Only friends had nick names for one another, and Jared didn’t really have any friends. Jensen might sometimes scare the crap out of him - and hello, the guy just practically picked a fight with a cop! - but he was always nice to Jared, and that went a long way in the teen’s mind.
“Why do you look like I make you eat lemons instead of ice cream, Jay?” An eyebrow rose inquiringly, but the small upward tilt of Jensen’s lips made it clear that he wasn’t making accusations.
“Nothing, I just…” He sighed, blushing at being such a baby sometimes and dipped his head down again.
“You’re uncomfortable with that dickhead cop, and the way all of the sheep are staring at us like we’re gonna eat them, right?” Despite the phrasing, it was obvious that Jensen wasn’t voicing a question but a statement. He saw right through Jared, and it made the younger man’s heart beat a little faster with a mix of excitement and fear.
He didn’t deny it, instead shrugging while smiling sheepishly at the man beside him. Playing dumb would only make him seem like a tool, and somehow it mattered to him what Jensen thought about him a lot more than it did with most people.
Jensen didn’t chide him, instead slinging one arm around Jared’s shoulders in a man hug, grabbing Jared’s wrist once more and pulling his hand up to lick the half-molten ice cream off Jared's abandoned spoon, smacking his lips with a satisfied grin. Jared found himself mesmerized, eyes glued to Jensen’s lips as he flicked his tongue over pink skin to catch a stray drop of liquid vanilla. He felt a lot warmer than the weather should permit and was pretty sure that he was blushing furiously, but if Jensen noticed, he probably attributed it to Jared’s embarrassment over their topic of conversation, rather than his unfavorable reaction to Jensen’s mouth around Jared’s spoon - and when did that start sounding dirty anyway?
“Don’t let them get to you, Jared. They are just scared. Scared of new ideas and of the possibility of change, that someone stronger could take over, and they wouldn’t be able to scrape by any longer as the lemmings they are.” Jensen squeezed Jared’s shoulder for a moment before plucking the spoon out of the teen’s fingers and helping himself to more ice cream.
Jared didn’t really have the capacity to argue politics with Jensen when the man was so close and so... uninhibited. Instead he just shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s scared of me.”
Jensen chuckled for a moment, eyebrow rising as his eyes sized the younger man up with a few precise sweeps. “Why not? You’re tall, you’re young… and other than those puppy eyes and the weird hair, you look like more of a man than most of those morons.”
Jared frowned self-consciously pushing his bangs out of his face, lip between his teeth. He didn’t expect Jensen to ruffle a hand through his hair with a bellowing laugh. “Oh, C’mon, Jay! I’m just poking fun at you.” Green eyes sparkled, and Jared stared at the man who had him running hot and cold like nobody’s business. “Don’t worry. I like your hair.”
He received a green-eyed wink and felt his mouth go dry at the things it did to him, swallowing hard before pushing a smile onto his face and taking a big spoon of melting ice cream into his mouth to get rid of that dry feeling and save himself from having to come up with any kind of answer.
It was weird, sitting there on the hood of the truck in a parking lot where everybody could see them, exchanging easy banter and careless physical contact. Jared hadn’t known that he craved this, wanted it so much that it hurt when Jensen pulled his arm away and slipped off the hood, telling Jared that they’d better start heading back with a lopsided grin. The teen just nodded, smiling back and slipping back to his feet with a silent sigh. He didn’t know how long Jensen would be around, if he had come to stay or just as a pit-stop on his way to another chapter, different Brothers. The thought made Jared frown as he slipped into the passenger seat, because, for once, Jared cared about someone enough to hope they would stay around.
It was an unwelcome realization, making Jared’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He didn’t like depending on other people for his own happiness, because he had learned at the age of eleven that people didn’t care if you loved them. They still left you behind.
“Where have you been?”
Jared stopped in the doorway, pulling off his jacket, lip pulled between two rows of white teeth. He shrugged hanging his jacket onto the hook in the hallway.
“Jensen needed someone to drive with him to do some kind of business.”
“And he took you of all people?” Jared’s father snorted, getting off the couch and wandering into the kitchen a little unsteadily to, no doubt, grab himself another beer.
Jared bit the inside of his cheek, keeping the words that were on the tip of his tongue in check. He knew that his dad would not react favorably at being told that at least Jared wasn’t completely shit-faced in the middle of the day. “There wasn’t really anything to do. I just sat in the car and waited for him to come back.”
“Did he buy you flowers, too?” The grin on his father’s face was mocking at best, and Jared frowned knowing that it was just trash-talk, because if his father really suspected Jared of any gayness, he would react quite differently. He was just being mean, and Jared should let it pearl off him, but he couldn’t, rather feeling that sting of rejection that he should have gotten used to a long while ago but never really had.
When his dad didn’t say anything else but just brushed past him to sit on the couch once more, Jared simply shook his head, reigning in the sigh that wanted to bubble up. A simple thing like a sigh could be enough to tick his father off these days, especially after a day with that much beer and that little productive energy. So Jared kept quiet, packing up the bundle of half-cleaned guns that lay by the door, still untouched, and putting them safely away. It wouldn’t do to have his dad shoot himself - or Jared - when too drunk to know which way was up.
Jared didn’t want to start watching Jensen, actually he planned to ignore the man as much as he could, to spare himself the complications that were sure to arise with any extra minute he spent contemplating him. However, to his own frustration he caught himself watching pretty much every time Jensen was around, which was quite frequently, since the community consisted of only a few dozen people, and Jared spent most of his time sitting outside when the weather permitted it, reading, drawing or doing chores. He had started doing his readings and school work on the porch outside, if only to avoid any and all conflict with his dad. The less they interacted the better, and with Jared’s growing wariness of the whole situation he was in, he had tried to minimize conflict as much as possible. Even teenage rebellion just wasn’t worth some things.
But as effective as this strategy was for avoiding his father, being outside meant that Jared saw Jensen practically every time he would walk through the community. Sometimes Jensen would come over and chat, even sit with him for a bit when he wasn’t busy doing whatever it was that he did - and Jared was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.
In any case, his plan of avoiding Jensen to stop the seriously inappropriate feelings that swirled though him whenever Jensen laughed with him or put an arm around his shoulders, was not working out. Maybe part of that was due to the fact that Jared just wasn’t trying hard enough. Although he was more than aware on a rational level that he was digging himself in deeply at quite a pace, he enjoyed the way he felt around Jensen and the way they were becoming friends at least as much as it scared him.
So he didn’t really protest when Jensen started sitting next to him during community dinner. Even though they didn’t really talk much at the dinner table, just the man’s presence on his left made the whole thing less wearing than it had been in years. Usually Jared sat next to his dad with his eyes on his plate and his mouth shut, only really acknowledging anything or anyone when directly addressed. He knew that some of the men actually thought that he was a little retarded, because he didn’t say much, while others just thought that he was pussy, too shy to really be good for anything.
Shy wasn’t the right word though. Scared might be better, or simply introverted as a reaction to the insecurity he felt towards himself and his environment - and really, he should not have read that psychology book last month. However Jared didn’t care enough to correct them. If they thought he was as dumb as a box of rocks the only thing they’d do was pick on him. At least they wouldn’t expect anything from him, and that was the reason he didn’t mind playing the idiot every now and again.
Boots on the floor behind him made Jared duck his head hiding the small smile that pulled on his mouth when someone slipped into the seat next to his. Their elbows brushed, and Jared could feel the heat of another body so close it felt like Jensen was radiating at one hundred-thirty degrees. Maybe Jared’s hormones would soon kill all that was left of his sanity, and he could die in peace from his own imagination.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Hey.” He looked up, unable to keep from returning the smile Jensen gave him.
They didn’t say anything more, since the community had assembled, and Clay was standing at the head of the front table. “My brothers and sisters, let’s praise the Lord for this meal…”
Jared switched off after that, knowing that there would be no significant difference between this prayer and the ones he had heard over the last years. They would thank god for the constitution and this country and pray for the end of the current presidency that the Brothers thought was an illegal act of treachery or something like that.
“Amen.” Jensen’s voice alerted him to the end of the ritual, loud and deep-pitched as ever. Jared glanced sideways, wondering if Jensen spoke with as much conviction as his clear voice expressed, or if he was just a lot better trained than Jared.
Sometimes Jared couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had brought a guy like Jensen to the Brothers. It wasn’t that his story didn’t meet all the places that made him perfect militia material, but the thing that bothered Jared in all this wasn’t his military service record or his obvious grudge against society and politics, but his character.
Jensen didn’t strike him as a man of hatred. He was good to Jared, the only person here who made an effort, despite Jared’s well practised isolation, and the fact that he just really didn’t fit in. Jensen was befriending the weird kid, but then he seemed to befriend pretty much everyone. He could be seen chatting with everybody throughout the week, and even Clay seemed to take a liking to the young man. That was even weirder when Jared thought about it. Clay didn’t like nice people. Most of the guys who he took to were complete douche bags.
“So Jensen, Carl told me that you had a small misunderstanding with the Sheriff yesterday.” Will, who had lived in the community all thirty-something years of his life, had a lopsided grin on his face as he bit into the bread roll he had just pulled through some gravy. Jared lifted his attention away from the food to look at Jensen with more interest than he usually showed for anything. He could still remember the run-in with Sheriff Morgan they had had a while ago, and he knew that the man was probably not happy to see Jensen again.
The chuckle next to him was deep and throaty. “Yeah. The dickhead swept the truck. I think he called some people after our first encounter to ask around about me.”
“What do you think he found?”
Jensen rolled his eyes, waving Will off with a shrug. “Nothing in the truck, and those bomb charges never made it in front of a judge, so he can kiss my ass… But then he just might want to the way he seemed to enjoy patting me down against the car hood. Fucking pervert.”
The men around them started to laugh and joke quite happily, but Jared had to swallow hard around that lump in his throat. Maybe he had been wrong. Jensen fit in just fine.
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