Redemption Chapter 2
Title: Redemption Chapter 2/?
Author: jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: J2, OMC/Jared
Rating: R (This Chapter NC-17 Overall)
Beta: glimmerella
Word Count: ~3600
Warnings: Overall: AU, dub-con, abuse, past MPREG,AU
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing with the pretty, pretty people.
Summary: I suck at these! Running from an abuive relatonship, Jared and his twin sons arrive in the small town of Wowakan, CO. Picking up the pieces, a complication comes in the form of Jared's ex-boyfriend, Jensen. A glimpse of the life of Jensen Ackles.
A/N & WARNING: Thanks to everyone for the kind encouragement. Y'al have been awesome. I hope I prove worthy of everyone's praise! Much love as always to my beautiful beta glimmerella and my partner in literary crime imogen_lily.
“Yes, momma, I ate the turnip greens you sent over.” Jensen’s nose scrunched up at the memory of the foul smelling vegetables his momma had made him take home the other night. He’d tried feeding them to Bronco, but even his dog’s tastes were too discerning for the bitter leaves. In the end he’d chucked them over the back fence, afraid they’d stink up the garbage can before he had a chance to make it to the dump.
“That’s my good boy,” she praised. “I’m pretty sure Austin threw his out. Oh, did I mention that the old McIntyre farm’s been bought?”
“No,” Jensen answered, maneuvering his car down Main Street. He waved at Misha, opening the General Store, and Sam, setting out a sign in front of the diner announcing it was Sandy’s birthday - Sakes Alive, She’s Twenty-Five!!!! “Didn’t realize that Mr. McIntyre’s son had it up for sale.”
“Yeah, Shane’s busy with his family in Philadelphia and wasn’t able to keep it up. The tax collector was threatening to sell it for back taxes so Shane decided to beat ‘em to the punch. I haven’t been by but supposedly it’s a nice young man.”
Pulling into a spot in front of a simple single story building, Jensen shifted the car into park. Chuckling, he turned off the ignition. “Is there anything you don’t know about the goings on in this town? I swear, Momma, you know more than I do half the time.”
“I can’t help it if I’m a friendly person and people like to tell me things,” she defended, laughing, “it’s not like I pry, they just offer. You know since your property backs up to that farm, it would be neighborly of you to go over and introduce yourself.”
Jensen groaned and swiped a hand over his face. “Momma,” he whined, “none of your matchmaking.”
“Who’s matchmaking?” she asked innocently, “I merely suggested that you go over and welcome a new family to the community. Prove to people that I raised you to have some manners.”
Shaking his head in defeat, Jensen pushed the car door open and climbed out of the seat. “I’ll stop by on my way home from work. Will that make you happy?”
“You do a mother proud,” she mocked. “I better go. You’re father wants to try to make some flavor he read about in a magazine so we’re heading to the parlor early today. Come over this afternoon and you can be our guinea pig, I mean, taste tester.”
“As long as it’s not bacon flavor again,” Jensen shuddered at the memory of his one and only sample bite of his father’s last creation.
“No, no more bacon ice cream. Your father promised after we ended up pitching out five gallons of that awful stuff.”
“Then I’ll come over after lunch with my fellow guinea pigs, I mean, taste testers,” he smirked.
“We’ll see you then, sweetheart. Be safe today,” she added her standard farewell for the days he worked.
“Always, momma,” he answered in rote, the same as every other shift morning. Ending the call, he tucked his cell in his front pocket and rounded the car, fingers trailing over the glossy black paint on her fender. As he passed, he rapped his knuckles against the wooden sign set in the ground at the head of the parking space, marking it as his.
Reserved
Chief deputy Jensen Ackles
He pushed open the glass door, emblazoned with the five pointed star that was the symbol of the Plains County Sheriff Department, and was greeted by heated air and the rich, inviting smell of brewing coffee.
He walked past the enlarged portrait of his grandfather, Jeremiah Ackles, hanging in the front lobby labeled with a placard that proudly detailed his years of service as the sheriff of Plains County, Colorado. Jensen smiled at the image of the man he remembered fondly from his childhood. It was because of his grandfather that he decided to study Criminal Justice at Mercer University and now he was following in his footsteps, protecting the town he’d grown up in.
Pushing past the waist high swinging gate, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Well, if this doesn’t paint a fine picture for the town of their public servants.”
Deputy Chris Kane was sitting on the corner of the secretary’s desk, body angled back to see the screen of her computer. Danneel was seated in her customary rolling chair, studying the monitor with an intense look of concentration, while Deputy Milo Ventimiglia looked on from over her shoulder. They all startled at the sound of his voice, Milo snapping to attention and Chris merely shrugging.
“Oh!” Danneel clicked a mouse button - to no doubt close whatever window they were viewing - and blushed to the roots of her red hair, “Good morning, Jensen. Coffee’s ready.”
Shoving away from the wall, Jensen peeled off his coat and tossed it at the coat rack in the corner then made his way to the coffee pot at the back of the bullpen, conveniently adjacent to the door of his office. There were perks to being Chief Deputy and having one of the only two offices in the building was among them. “You do know that Sheriff Jones will have your hides if he finds out you were surfing for porn on the county’s equipment, right?” he kidded, reveling in the crimson stain that crossed over Milo’s cheeks.
“Yep,” Chris answered without missing a beat, “That’s why I went out and bought the new iPhone. I can sit at my desk and look at cocks all day and nobody is the wiser. Granted you have to blow them up to appreciate them properly, but, hey, it passes the time.” He stood and patted Milo on the shoulder as he made his way to his desk, chuckling as the boy turned a deeper shade of red.
Taking a sip of his coffee, black and strong like he liked it, Jensen smirked, “What does Steve think about you looking at other men’s dicks all day?”
Winking, Chris leaned forward and mock whispered, “Who do you thinks sends me the best links?”
“Okay, y’all enough,” Danneel petted Milo’s arm consolingly, “I think you’ve sufficiently embarrassed the boy.”
Laughing, Chris and Jensen tipped their heads in defeat and Milo blew out a grateful breath, plopping into the chair at the desk he shared with Mike.
“If you must know,” Danneel artfully changed the subject before they could think of another way to torment Milo, “we were pulling up the property appraiser archive to see if they’ve recorded who bought the old McIntyre farm yet.”
“Seems to be the talk of the town, “Jensen mused, perusing the selection of bagels on the counter, “Momma mentioned it when I talked to her this morning. She wants me to go by and welcome them to the town.”
“Of course, it’s a big deal when fresh meat arrives. This is a town of three thousand people, most of who were born here. The last outsider to move here was Chris, four years ago, and his secrets are old news by now.”
“That might be true, but, man, they sure riled people up when I arrived.” He settled back in his seat with a pleased smile and kicked his feet up on the desk, thick soled boots crinkling the papers left there by Tom the night before.
Deciding against a bagel in favor of a raspberry filled donut, Jensen rolled his eyes at his friend, “Just the long hair. Most folks thought you were a really beefy woman for the first week. Mmm,” he moaned, taking a bite of the jelly pastry, “Speaking of women, I almost forgot. Let’s see it, Milo.” Jensen raised his mug to his lips again.
“See what?” Milo looked from Jensen to Chris to Danneel then back to Jensen. He was the rookie and they took all forms of pleasure from mercilessly teasing him.
“The gift, that’s what. I’m sure it’s something romantic and sentimental, you Romeo you.” Jensen leaned against the doorjamb to his office with an expectant look on his face.
“I don’t…,” Milo looked dumbstruck.
“Sandy’s gift,” Jensen clarified. Milo stared at him, brows wrinkled in confusion and head shaking back and forth. “For her birthday,” Jensen elaborated slowly. Surely he hadn’t forgotten.
Milo’s confused expression morphed into wide-eyed terror. “Her birthday’s not today!”
The kid was so screwed. “It is according to the big sign Sam was tacking up in front of the diner when I pulled in.”
“Aw hell, son,” Chris dropped his feet to the floor and sat up, “y’all haven’t been together that long for you to be forgetting important dates already.”
“Oh God!” Milo moaned, head thudding painfully on the desk. His close up examination of the blotter lasted a few seconds then he lifted his head and looked to them beseechingly. “What do I do? Has this every happened to you before?”
Danneel sniffed disdainfully, affronted on Sandy’s behalf. “Just once, and I dumped him. I figure if a guy can remember who won the 1968 Superbowl, he should be able to remember my birthday.”
Milo groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
“Helpful, Danneel,” Chris snarked. When Milo turned his gaze to him, he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, kiddo. Steve may joke he has my balls in a box behind the bar, I don’t need to give him a reason to consider it seriously.”
Hands covering his face, Milo splayed his fingers and peered through the slots at Jensen. “Don’t look at me,” Jensen licked powdered sugar from his fingers.
Milo dropped is hands to his desk. “Forgot, you don’t believe in love,” he mumbled miserably.
“Never said I didn’t believe in love,” Jensen muttered. “Guess I should go see what the sheriff left for me.”
“He all right?” Milo whispered.
Chris watched Jensen disappear into his office. “Better’n you,” Chris answered, tossing a phone book at Milo. “Make reservations at D’Angelo’s in Sioux River. Steve is buddies with the owner. I’ll have him call Tony and set up something to save your sorry ass.”
Relief washed over Milo’s face and he jumped up from his chair moving toward the older deputy. “Chris, you’re the best. “
Chris raised a staying hand, flipping his cell open with the other. “Not my type, dude. Save it for your girl.”
*****
Jensen turned down the drought-dry driveway, tires running roughly over deep ruts and dust pluming up behind him like a rooster tail. He stopped near the front porch, the sandy cloud continuing forward to fully envelope the black vehicle. Grimacing at the wash his girl was going to need, he peered up at the two-story farm house and waited for the dust to settle. His momma had heard right, Shane McIntyre had not been able to keep his childhood home up and the building had fallen into disrepair. The once white house was now a mottled gray where rain and snow and sun had worn away the milky paint to reveal the weathered boards beneath. Faded burgundy shutters lay in the recently mowed grass, near the base of the porch, next to a stack of freshly purchased lattice work. Dark black shingles contrasted sharply against the muted ash colored siding, clear signs that the roof had been recently replaced.
There wasn’t a car to be seen, but he decided since he was here it couldn’t hurt to see if anyone was home. He made his way up the wide steps to the porch and picked a path around miscellaneous tools and supplies to the front door. A new bench swing sat to the right, the chains still encased in brown paper and cushion wrapped in plastic, waiting to be hung, a baseball glove, ball tucked snugly in the woven pocket, and a football on the seat.
Huh, guy must have a kid.
He knocked on the door, peering through the large window that monopolized the upper half of the entrance. Empty boxes were piled in the hallway, crumpled paper spilling over the open flaps. It looked like a few of the interior doors had been removed and were leaning against the stairwell. Frowning, he knocked again and moved to the large picture window, slinking behind the swing to see in the glass. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a new looking couch in the center of the room that faced an old television balanced precariously on a milk crate. A couple of Tonka dump trucks were parked in front of the couch, multicolored Legos filling the beds and peppering the scarred hardwoods floors around them.
Still not receiving an answer, Jensen shrugged and headed back to the car. He’d have to try another day, but at least he could truthfully tell his momma he’d tried when she undoubtedly called to ask about the new neighbor. One lie a day was enough. He frowned at the once picturesque farmhouse as he settled in the driver’s seat, wondering if the man knew the amount of work it needed when he purchased it. Shaking his head, he started the engine.
He sure as hell hoped so.
*****
Jensen was very much a creature of habit and his days passed one after the other in a familiar routine. Friday started out much like all the ones before it. He talked to his mother on the way to work, disappointing her when he wasn’t able to fuel the town’s gossip machine with information on the new arrivals. He laughed as Chris squirmed uncomfortably at Milo’s continuous words of gratitude and dodged the younger man’s attempts for a hug. Apparently Steve’s buddy had come through, not only saving Milo’s budding relationship with Sandy, but also, if the kid’s face was any indication, helping it move on to the next level. At noon, he ambled toward the diner to pick up the office’s lunch order, ducking quickly into Collins’ General Store for a box of laundry detergent knowing he’d forget by the end of his shift.
“Hey Misha,” he greeted the man behind the counter, receiving a wave in return, and navigated around various displays of different wares to the aisle containing the cleaning supplies. He crouched down and examined the boxes of detergent; the brand he used had recently changed its packaging and he’d accidentally bought the wrong kind the last time. Unfortunately, it had been some tropical guava mango scented stuff and he’d spent the previous two months listening to Chris tell him how ‘purty’ he smelled. He kept meaning to buy a box of his regular unscented kind, but never remembered until he was pouring the fragrant powder in the washing machine. The only reason he was here now was he’d used the last of it and was down to one pair of clean underwear. Nothing like the promise of going commando in polyester blend pants to jog the memory.
Selecting the appropriate box, double checking it was unscented, he grunted when something knocked into him from the side. Falling on his ass, he reflexively grabbed the person’s legs to steady them when it appeared they were going to follow him down.
“Oh, God. I am so sorry. Are you okay? I’m such a klutz. I never watch where I’m going and I didn’t see you there,” the man babbled, hand extending down to help Jensen from the ground.
Wiping his hands together to rid them of dirt, Jensen stopped at the sound of the guy’s voice. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. His eyes travelled up a set of long, thin legs to an even skinnier torso finally landing on…
“Jared?”
“J-Jen-sen?” Jared gasped his name, eyes comically wide. He retracted his extended hand and wiped it nervously on his jeans. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I was born here,” Jensen answered, getting to his feet. It was Jared. A little taller than he remembered and a whole lot thinner, but it was unmistakably Jared Padalecki. “What are you doing here?”
“I-I just moved into town,” Jared’s raised himself onto his tiptoes and peered over the shelves on both sides of him. Dropping back down, he sighed. “I thought you were in Chicago.”
Jensen hesitated for a minute. “Didn’t work out.”
“Oh. Sorry.” His eyes flicked to the security mirror in the corner. “Your boyfriend move here with you?”
“Boyfriend?” Jensen actually jerked back at the thought.
“Sorry, your…partner?” Jared scanned the small store, eyes constantly moving like he was searching for someone.
“Jared, I don’t have a boyfriend or a partner. My last serious relationship was with you. What made you think I had someone?”
“I’d heard,” Jared, puzzled, focused on him for the first time and Jensen swore he saw a flash of realization followed swiftly by hurt flitter across the younger man’s features.
“Heard from whom?” Jensen was curious who Jared had asked about him.
“Doesn’t matter anymore. Apparently, I was misinformed.” Jared smiled weakly, eyes going back to roving over the store’s patrons.
Jensen tracked Jared’s gaze around the store then blurted out the question he’d being dying to ask since looking up to see this ghost from his past. “Timothy with you?”
Jared’s face paled and his body tensed. His eyes tightened and he stood on his toes again to peer over the shelves. “No.”
“Oh,” Jensen was taken aback by the terse response.
Jared must have realized how his tone came across and sighed. Shoulders drooping, he picked at the hem of his shirt. “Didn’t work out,” he repeated Jensen’s earlier response. The bell over the front door tinkled and his gaze snapped to the mirror again to see who’d entered.
“So,” Jensen started, tossing about in his mind for a topic, “you bought the old McIntyre farm?”
“How did you…” Jared rolled his eyes, “Of, course, small town. “
“Yeah, not much goes on that the whole town doesn’t know about,” Jensen smiled. “I drove by the other day, but no one was home. Place sure needs a lot of work.”
“It’s getting there slowly, but surely. My dad was in construction so I get to use some of the things he taught me growing up.”
“That’s great. If you need any…”
“Daddy!” A small boy, around five or six, came running down the aisle toward Jared. He stopped abruptly when he noticed Jensen standing there. “Sorry,” he mumbled quietly.
Even though he’d seen the evidence at the house the day before, Jensen’s mind was caught in a loop of JaredhasakidJaredhasakid.
Jared set the basket he’d been holding down on the ground next to Jensen’s forgotten detergent and picked the boy up. “It’s okay,” Jared reassured. “Next time let’s try not to scream, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy,” the boy intoned.
Jensen snapped out of his daze and examined the child. Kid was cute - wide mouth and expressive green eyes. His hair was perfectly styled, at complete odds with Jared’s tousled locks, but his clothes showed the telltale signs of hard played wear. Jared smiled at the boy, warm and fond, before nervously turning his attention back to Jensen.
“Jensen, I-I’d like you to meet my son, Benji. Benji this is an old friend of mine, uh, Deputy, “Jared shot Jensen a quizzical look, continuing when he got confirmation of Jensen’s rank, “Ackles.”
“Nice to meet you, Benji.” Jensen held out his hand and was surprised when Benji shook it without prompting.
Gaze taking in Jensen’s uniform, Benji’s face brightened. “You’re a police officer?” At Jensen’s nod, Benji’s eyes went round in awe. “Cool,” he breathed.
“Yeah? Maybe your dad can bring you by the station sometime and I’ll show you around,” he smiled, completely smitten with the young boy.
“You may not realize it, yet, but you’ve just made yourself a best friend.” Jared shook his head, chuckling. “So,” he tickled his son’s tummy, “what did you need that was so important?”
“Teddy!” Benji startled so hard his small body jolted in Jared’s arms. His eyes darted around the store in stunned shock like he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I can’t find him.”
Jared placed a bracing hand on the wiggling boy’s back and shushed him softly. “Did you look everywhere?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Benji’s voice was pitching higher and higher, a hysterical edge creeping in, “I looked. He’s gone!”
“You look in the books?” Jared jerked his head in the direction of the next aisle over.
Benji stretched his little body, Jared moving onto his toes to help the boy see over the items on the top shelf, and renewed his squirming. “There he is!”
Smiling, indulgently, Jared set the boy on his feet and watched him scamper down the aisle. Jensen opened his mouth to comment on how good Jared was with his son when his radio crackled to life.
“Ackles?” A gruff voice filtered through the static.
Tugging the hand-held radio free of his belt, Jensen shot Jared an apologetic look. “This is Ackles.”
“Sheriff says forget lunch. Mr. O’Leary’s cows are out again and backing up traffic. He wants us to drive out there.”
“10-4,” Jensen rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “Headed back now.” Clipping the radio back on, he looked over at Jared. “Listen, I gotta’ go,” he tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll, um, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Jared answered, head nodding, “Uh, good luck catching the cows.”
“Thanks,” he groaned, starting for the door. He stopped a few steps away, “It was nice seeing you again, Jared.”
“You too, Jensen.”
Nodding once, he exited the general store, detergent-less, to save the good people of Plains County from wayward cows.
Author: jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: J2, OMC/Jared
Rating: R (This Chapter NC-17 Overall)
Beta: glimmerella
Word Count: ~3600
Warnings: Overall: AU, dub-con, abuse, past MPREG,AU
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing with the pretty, pretty people.
Summary: I suck at these! Running from an abuive relatonship, Jared and his twin sons arrive in the small town of Wowakan, CO. Picking up the pieces, a complication comes in the form of Jared's ex-boyfriend, Jensen. A glimpse of the life of Jensen Ackles.
A/N & WARNING: Thanks to everyone for the kind encouragement. Y'al have been awesome. I hope I prove worthy of everyone's praise! Much love as always to my beautiful beta glimmerella and my partner in literary crime imogen_lily.
“Yes, momma, I ate the turnip greens you sent over.” Jensen’s nose scrunched up at the memory of the foul smelling vegetables his momma had made him take home the other night. He’d tried feeding them to Bronco, but even his dog’s tastes were too discerning for the bitter leaves. In the end he’d chucked them over the back fence, afraid they’d stink up the garbage can before he had a chance to make it to the dump.
“That’s my good boy,” she praised. “I’m pretty sure Austin threw his out. Oh, did I mention that the old McIntyre farm’s been bought?”
“No,” Jensen answered, maneuvering his car down Main Street. He waved at Misha, opening the General Store, and Sam, setting out a sign in front of the diner announcing it was Sandy’s birthday - Sakes Alive, She’s Twenty-Five!!!! “Didn’t realize that Mr. McIntyre’s son had it up for sale.”
“Yeah, Shane’s busy with his family in Philadelphia and wasn’t able to keep it up. The tax collector was threatening to sell it for back taxes so Shane decided to beat ‘em to the punch. I haven’t been by but supposedly it’s a nice young man.”
Pulling into a spot in front of a simple single story building, Jensen shifted the car into park. Chuckling, he turned off the ignition. “Is there anything you don’t know about the goings on in this town? I swear, Momma, you know more than I do half the time.”
“I can’t help it if I’m a friendly person and people like to tell me things,” she defended, laughing, “it’s not like I pry, they just offer. You know since your property backs up to that farm, it would be neighborly of you to go over and introduce yourself.”
Jensen groaned and swiped a hand over his face. “Momma,” he whined, “none of your matchmaking.”
“Who’s matchmaking?” she asked innocently, “I merely suggested that you go over and welcome a new family to the community. Prove to people that I raised you to have some manners.”
Shaking his head in defeat, Jensen pushed the car door open and climbed out of the seat. “I’ll stop by on my way home from work. Will that make you happy?”
“You do a mother proud,” she mocked. “I better go. You’re father wants to try to make some flavor he read about in a magazine so we’re heading to the parlor early today. Come over this afternoon and you can be our guinea pig, I mean, taste tester.”
“As long as it’s not bacon flavor again,” Jensen shuddered at the memory of his one and only sample bite of his father’s last creation.
“No, no more bacon ice cream. Your father promised after we ended up pitching out five gallons of that awful stuff.”
“Then I’ll come over after lunch with my fellow guinea pigs, I mean, taste testers,” he smirked.
“We’ll see you then, sweetheart. Be safe today,” she added her standard farewell for the days he worked.
“Always, momma,” he answered in rote, the same as every other shift morning. Ending the call, he tucked his cell in his front pocket and rounded the car, fingers trailing over the glossy black paint on her fender. As he passed, he rapped his knuckles against the wooden sign set in the ground at the head of the parking space, marking it as his.
Reserved
Chief deputy Jensen Ackles
He pushed open the glass door, emblazoned with the five pointed star that was the symbol of the Plains County Sheriff Department, and was greeted by heated air and the rich, inviting smell of brewing coffee.
He walked past the enlarged portrait of his grandfather, Jeremiah Ackles, hanging in the front lobby labeled with a placard that proudly detailed his years of service as the sheriff of Plains County, Colorado. Jensen smiled at the image of the man he remembered fondly from his childhood. It was because of his grandfather that he decided to study Criminal Justice at Mercer University and now he was following in his footsteps, protecting the town he’d grown up in.
Pushing past the waist high swinging gate, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Well, if this doesn’t paint a fine picture for the town of their public servants.”
Deputy Chris Kane was sitting on the corner of the secretary’s desk, body angled back to see the screen of her computer. Danneel was seated in her customary rolling chair, studying the monitor with an intense look of concentration, while Deputy Milo Ventimiglia looked on from over her shoulder. They all startled at the sound of his voice, Milo snapping to attention and Chris merely shrugging.
“Oh!” Danneel clicked a mouse button - to no doubt close whatever window they were viewing - and blushed to the roots of her red hair, “Good morning, Jensen. Coffee’s ready.”
Shoving away from the wall, Jensen peeled off his coat and tossed it at the coat rack in the corner then made his way to the coffee pot at the back of the bullpen, conveniently adjacent to the door of his office. There were perks to being Chief Deputy and having one of the only two offices in the building was among them. “You do know that Sheriff Jones will have your hides if he finds out you were surfing for porn on the county’s equipment, right?” he kidded, reveling in the crimson stain that crossed over Milo’s cheeks.
“Yep,” Chris answered without missing a beat, “That’s why I went out and bought the new iPhone. I can sit at my desk and look at cocks all day and nobody is the wiser. Granted you have to blow them up to appreciate them properly, but, hey, it passes the time.” He stood and patted Milo on the shoulder as he made his way to his desk, chuckling as the boy turned a deeper shade of red.
Taking a sip of his coffee, black and strong like he liked it, Jensen smirked, “What does Steve think about you looking at other men’s dicks all day?”
Winking, Chris leaned forward and mock whispered, “Who do you thinks sends me the best links?”
“Okay, y’all enough,” Danneel petted Milo’s arm consolingly, “I think you’ve sufficiently embarrassed the boy.”
Laughing, Chris and Jensen tipped their heads in defeat and Milo blew out a grateful breath, plopping into the chair at the desk he shared with Mike.
“If you must know,” Danneel artfully changed the subject before they could think of another way to torment Milo, “we were pulling up the property appraiser archive to see if they’ve recorded who bought the old McIntyre farm yet.”
“Seems to be the talk of the town, “Jensen mused, perusing the selection of bagels on the counter, “Momma mentioned it when I talked to her this morning. She wants me to go by and welcome them to the town.”
“Of course, it’s a big deal when fresh meat arrives. This is a town of three thousand people, most of who were born here. The last outsider to move here was Chris, four years ago, and his secrets are old news by now.”
“That might be true, but, man, they sure riled people up when I arrived.” He settled back in his seat with a pleased smile and kicked his feet up on the desk, thick soled boots crinkling the papers left there by Tom the night before.
Deciding against a bagel in favor of a raspberry filled donut, Jensen rolled his eyes at his friend, “Just the long hair. Most folks thought you were a really beefy woman for the first week. Mmm,” he moaned, taking a bite of the jelly pastry, “Speaking of women, I almost forgot. Let’s see it, Milo.” Jensen raised his mug to his lips again.
“See what?” Milo looked from Jensen to Chris to Danneel then back to Jensen. He was the rookie and they took all forms of pleasure from mercilessly teasing him.
“The gift, that’s what. I’m sure it’s something romantic and sentimental, you Romeo you.” Jensen leaned against the doorjamb to his office with an expectant look on his face.
“I don’t…,” Milo looked dumbstruck.
“Sandy’s gift,” Jensen clarified. Milo stared at him, brows wrinkled in confusion and head shaking back and forth. “For her birthday,” Jensen elaborated slowly. Surely he hadn’t forgotten.
Milo’s confused expression morphed into wide-eyed terror. “Her birthday’s not today!”
The kid was so screwed. “It is according to the big sign Sam was tacking up in front of the diner when I pulled in.”
“Aw hell, son,” Chris dropped his feet to the floor and sat up, “y’all haven’t been together that long for you to be forgetting important dates already.”
“Oh God!” Milo moaned, head thudding painfully on the desk. His close up examination of the blotter lasted a few seconds then he lifted his head and looked to them beseechingly. “What do I do? Has this every happened to you before?”
Danneel sniffed disdainfully, affronted on Sandy’s behalf. “Just once, and I dumped him. I figure if a guy can remember who won the 1968 Superbowl, he should be able to remember my birthday.”
Milo groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
“Helpful, Danneel,” Chris snarked. When Milo turned his gaze to him, he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, kiddo. Steve may joke he has my balls in a box behind the bar, I don’t need to give him a reason to consider it seriously.”
Hands covering his face, Milo splayed his fingers and peered through the slots at Jensen. “Don’t look at me,” Jensen licked powdered sugar from his fingers.
Milo dropped is hands to his desk. “Forgot, you don’t believe in love,” he mumbled miserably.
“Never said I didn’t believe in love,” Jensen muttered. “Guess I should go see what the sheriff left for me.”
“He all right?” Milo whispered.
Chris watched Jensen disappear into his office. “Better’n you,” Chris answered, tossing a phone book at Milo. “Make reservations at D’Angelo’s in Sioux River. Steve is buddies with the owner. I’ll have him call Tony and set up something to save your sorry ass.”
Relief washed over Milo’s face and he jumped up from his chair moving toward the older deputy. “Chris, you’re the best. “
Chris raised a staying hand, flipping his cell open with the other. “Not my type, dude. Save it for your girl.”
*****
Jensen turned down the drought-dry driveway, tires running roughly over deep ruts and dust pluming up behind him like a rooster tail. He stopped near the front porch, the sandy cloud continuing forward to fully envelope the black vehicle. Grimacing at the wash his girl was going to need, he peered up at the two-story farm house and waited for the dust to settle. His momma had heard right, Shane McIntyre had not been able to keep his childhood home up and the building had fallen into disrepair. The once white house was now a mottled gray where rain and snow and sun had worn away the milky paint to reveal the weathered boards beneath. Faded burgundy shutters lay in the recently mowed grass, near the base of the porch, next to a stack of freshly purchased lattice work. Dark black shingles contrasted sharply against the muted ash colored siding, clear signs that the roof had been recently replaced.
There wasn’t a car to be seen, but he decided since he was here it couldn’t hurt to see if anyone was home. He made his way up the wide steps to the porch and picked a path around miscellaneous tools and supplies to the front door. A new bench swing sat to the right, the chains still encased in brown paper and cushion wrapped in plastic, waiting to be hung, a baseball glove, ball tucked snugly in the woven pocket, and a football on the seat.
Huh, guy must have a kid.
He knocked on the door, peering through the large window that monopolized the upper half of the entrance. Empty boxes were piled in the hallway, crumpled paper spilling over the open flaps. It looked like a few of the interior doors had been removed and were leaning against the stairwell. Frowning, he knocked again and moved to the large picture window, slinking behind the swing to see in the glass. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a new looking couch in the center of the room that faced an old television balanced precariously on a milk crate. A couple of Tonka dump trucks were parked in front of the couch, multicolored Legos filling the beds and peppering the scarred hardwoods floors around them.
Still not receiving an answer, Jensen shrugged and headed back to the car. He’d have to try another day, but at least he could truthfully tell his momma he’d tried when she undoubtedly called to ask about the new neighbor. One lie a day was enough. He frowned at the once picturesque farmhouse as he settled in the driver’s seat, wondering if the man knew the amount of work it needed when he purchased it. Shaking his head, he started the engine.
He sure as hell hoped so.
*****
Jensen was very much a creature of habit and his days passed one after the other in a familiar routine. Friday started out much like all the ones before it. He talked to his mother on the way to work, disappointing her when he wasn’t able to fuel the town’s gossip machine with information on the new arrivals. He laughed as Chris squirmed uncomfortably at Milo’s continuous words of gratitude and dodged the younger man’s attempts for a hug. Apparently Steve’s buddy had come through, not only saving Milo’s budding relationship with Sandy, but also, if the kid’s face was any indication, helping it move on to the next level. At noon, he ambled toward the diner to pick up the office’s lunch order, ducking quickly into Collins’ General Store for a box of laundry detergent knowing he’d forget by the end of his shift.
“Hey Misha,” he greeted the man behind the counter, receiving a wave in return, and navigated around various displays of different wares to the aisle containing the cleaning supplies. He crouched down and examined the boxes of detergent; the brand he used had recently changed its packaging and he’d accidentally bought the wrong kind the last time. Unfortunately, it had been some tropical guava mango scented stuff and he’d spent the previous two months listening to Chris tell him how ‘purty’ he smelled. He kept meaning to buy a box of his regular unscented kind, but never remembered until he was pouring the fragrant powder in the washing machine. The only reason he was here now was he’d used the last of it and was down to one pair of clean underwear. Nothing like the promise of going commando in polyester blend pants to jog the memory.
Selecting the appropriate box, double checking it was unscented, he grunted when something knocked into him from the side. Falling on his ass, he reflexively grabbed the person’s legs to steady them when it appeared they were going to follow him down.
“Oh, God. I am so sorry. Are you okay? I’m such a klutz. I never watch where I’m going and I didn’t see you there,” the man babbled, hand extending down to help Jensen from the ground.
Wiping his hands together to rid them of dirt, Jensen stopped at the sound of the guy’s voice. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. His eyes travelled up a set of long, thin legs to an even skinnier torso finally landing on…
“Jared?”
“J-Jen-sen?” Jared gasped his name, eyes comically wide. He retracted his extended hand and wiped it nervously on his jeans. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I was born here,” Jensen answered, getting to his feet. It was Jared. A little taller than he remembered and a whole lot thinner, but it was unmistakably Jared Padalecki. “What are you doing here?”
“I-I just moved into town,” Jared’s raised himself onto his tiptoes and peered over the shelves on both sides of him. Dropping back down, he sighed. “I thought you were in Chicago.”
Jensen hesitated for a minute. “Didn’t work out.”
“Oh. Sorry.” His eyes flicked to the security mirror in the corner. “Your boyfriend move here with you?”
“Boyfriend?” Jensen actually jerked back at the thought.
“Sorry, your…partner?” Jared scanned the small store, eyes constantly moving like he was searching for someone.
“Jared, I don’t have a boyfriend or a partner. My last serious relationship was with you. What made you think I had someone?”
“I’d heard,” Jared, puzzled, focused on him for the first time and Jensen swore he saw a flash of realization followed swiftly by hurt flitter across the younger man’s features.
“Heard from whom?” Jensen was curious who Jared had asked about him.
“Doesn’t matter anymore. Apparently, I was misinformed.” Jared smiled weakly, eyes going back to roving over the store’s patrons.
Jensen tracked Jared’s gaze around the store then blurted out the question he’d being dying to ask since looking up to see this ghost from his past. “Timothy with you?”
Jared’s face paled and his body tensed. His eyes tightened and he stood on his toes again to peer over the shelves. “No.”
“Oh,” Jensen was taken aback by the terse response.
Jared must have realized how his tone came across and sighed. Shoulders drooping, he picked at the hem of his shirt. “Didn’t work out,” he repeated Jensen’s earlier response. The bell over the front door tinkled and his gaze snapped to the mirror again to see who’d entered.
“So,” Jensen started, tossing about in his mind for a topic, “you bought the old McIntyre farm?”
“How did you…” Jared rolled his eyes, “Of, course, small town. “
“Yeah, not much goes on that the whole town doesn’t know about,” Jensen smiled. “I drove by the other day, but no one was home. Place sure needs a lot of work.”
“It’s getting there slowly, but surely. My dad was in construction so I get to use some of the things he taught me growing up.”
“That’s great. If you need any…”
“Daddy!” A small boy, around five or six, came running down the aisle toward Jared. He stopped abruptly when he noticed Jensen standing there. “Sorry,” he mumbled quietly.
Even though he’d seen the evidence at the house the day before, Jensen’s mind was caught in a loop of JaredhasakidJaredhasakid.
Jared set the basket he’d been holding down on the ground next to Jensen’s forgotten detergent and picked the boy up. “It’s okay,” Jared reassured. “Next time let’s try not to scream, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy,” the boy intoned.
Jensen snapped out of his daze and examined the child. Kid was cute - wide mouth and expressive green eyes. His hair was perfectly styled, at complete odds with Jared’s tousled locks, but his clothes showed the telltale signs of hard played wear. Jared smiled at the boy, warm and fond, before nervously turning his attention back to Jensen.
“Jensen, I-I’d like you to meet my son, Benji. Benji this is an old friend of mine, uh, Deputy, “Jared shot Jensen a quizzical look, continuing when he got confirmation of Jensen’s rank, “Ackles.”
“Nice to meet you, Benji.” Jensen held out his hand and was surprised when Benji shook it without prompting.
Gaze taking in Jensen’s uniform, Benji’s face brightened. “You’re a police officer?” At Jensen’s nod, Benji’s eyes went round in awe. “Cool,” he breathed.
“Yeah? Maybe your dad can bring you by the station sometime and I’ll show you around,” he smiled, completely smitten with the young boy.
“You may not realize it, yet, but you’ve just made yourself a best friend.” Jared shook his head, chuckling. “So,” he tickled his son’s tummy, “what did you need that was so important?”
“Teddy!” Benji startled so hard his small body jolted in Jared’s arms. His eyes darted around the store in stunned shock like he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I can’t find him.”
Jared placed a bracing hand on the wiggling boy’s back and shushed him softly. “Did you look everywhere?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Benji’s voice was pitching higher and higher, a hysterical edge creeping in, “I looked. He’s gone!”
“You look in the books?” Jared jerked his head in the direction of the next aisle over.
Benji stretched his little body, Jared moving onto his toes to help the boy see over the items on the top shelf, and renewed his squirming. “There he is!”
Smiling, indulgently, Jared set the boy on his feet and watched him scamper down the aisle. Jensen opened his mouth to comment on how good Jared was with his son when his radio crackled to life.
“Ackles?” A gruff voice filtered through the static.
Tugging the hand-held radio free of his belt, Jensen shot Jared an apologetic look. “This is Ackles.”
“Sheriff says forget lunch. Mr. O’Leary’s cows are out again and backing up traffic. He wants us to drive out there.”
“10-4,” Jensen rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “Headed back now.” Clipping the radio back on, he looked over at Jared. “Listen, I gotta’ go,” he tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll, um, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Jared answered, head nodding, “Uh, good luck catching the cows.”
“Thanks,” he groaned, starting for the door. He stopped a few steps away, “It was nice seeing you again, Jared.”
“You too, Jensen.”
Nodding once, he exited the general store, detergent-less, to save the good people of Plains County from wayward cows.