Redemption Interlude - Nothing Comes From Nothing
Title: Redemption Interlude - Nothing Comes From Nothing
Author: jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: J2, OMC/Jared
Rating: R (This Chapter NC-17 Overall)
Beta: glimmerella
Word Count: ~4500
Warnings: Overall: AU, dub-con, abuse, past MPREG,AU
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing with the pretty, pretty people.
Summary: How Jared and Jensen from Redemption met.
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. The Plank is a place of my own creation, but the drink, Davy Jones' Locker, is eerily similar to a popular NewOrleans' drink.
Jensen and Chris had met while attending Mercer both studying criminal justice with the hopes of making a difference. They sat next to each other during their first class on the first day and became fast friends. After graduation they both accepted positions on the Savannah Police Department, working a beat in the historic district. They’d been on the force for almost two years when they got a call about a break-in with vandalism at one of the well-known college apartment complexes.
“I swear to God, Jen, if this is another hazing stunt gone wrong I’m gonna rip those fraternity peckerheads a new one,” Chris grumbled ascending the stairs to apartment 4D, the scene of the reported crime.
“Come on,” Jensen pushed his shoulder good-naturedly, “that one call with the naked guy tied to a chair with peanut butter spread on his balls was pretty good.”
“For his dog,” Chris shoved back, working hard to contain his smile. “God, the things we see during Pledge Week.”
Catching himself up against the wall, Jensen laughed. “Hey, man’s best friend is his dog. Who of us hasn’t needed a helping tongue - I mean, hand - from a friend?”
“You’re twisted, Ackles,” Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes, “And people think I’m the perverted one.”
“That’s because I’m sweet and innocent.” Batting his eyelashes, he stepped onto the fourth floor landing and pointed down the hall. “It’s down that way.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Chris rolled his eyes and headed in the direction Jensen indicated, stopping in front of a white door with the word WHORE written across it in black spray paint. “Something tells me this is it.”
“Figure that out there by yourself, Sherlock?” Jensen snarked, hand lifting to knock on the door.
“Suck my dick, Watson.”
The scraping of locks turning had them slipping on the professional masks they wore when dealing with the public just in time for the door to swing open. A tall man stood in the doorway, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s cradled to his chest. Pulling the spoon out, dragging it down across his bottom lip to scrape all the ice cream from the inverted bowl, the guy gave them an embarrassed smile.
“Hey,” he mumbled around the mouthful of ice cream, tilting his head back slightly to keep it in his mouth, “come in.” He stepped back to allow them to enter.
Exchanging a sidelong glance with Chris, Jensen led them into the apartment. “I’m Officer Ackles and this is my partner, Officer Kane. We received a call from a Mr. Padalecki saying that you had a break-in and some vandalism. Is the front door the only thing that was damaged?” Jensen looked around the living room and didn’t see any evidence that anything inside the apartment was damaged.
“Uh, no,” the guy said, setting the container of ice cream down, “and it’s Jared. The majority of it is this way.”
He motioned for them to follow and guided them down a short hallway to an open door. Reaching in, Jared flicked on the light and held out his arm in invitation. The room was in shambles. The sheets had been stripped from the bed and lay shredded on the floor. The mattress was gutted, tufts of stuffing poking out through the ripped cover. Pictures had been pulled from the walls, their frames bent and glass broken. The shattered remains of keepsakes littered the floor while the once pale blue walls sported the same spray painted slanders as the front door. Turning away from the three foot high COCKSUCKER on the wall over the bed, Jensen pulled a pad from his pocket.
“Your room?” He clicked his pen and started making notes.
“Yeah. I came home from school and found it like,” Jared flapped a massive hand to encompass the mess, “this.”
“Did you touch anything?” Chris walked around the room, glass crunching under his boots, to examine the mattress closer.
“Swept some of the glass to the side to make a path to the dresser, opened the middle and bottom drawers. I got drenched on the way home and honestly didn’t expect you guys for a while. Didn’t feel like freezing my nuts off waiting so I changed clothes.” He waved a hand at his body to show his t-shirt and lounge pants. Given the invitation, Jensen allowed himself an appraising look. Jared was definitely a tall drink of water and the way his clothes hung hinted at a strong, slender body. He had slanted hazel eyes that seemed to change when the light reflected off them at different angles and dimples that subtly winked at Jensen each time he talked. Jensen did a double take when he noticed Jared’s footwear. He was wearing giant fuzzy moose slippers.
“I see,” Jensen made another note and moved to the broken pictures, “I guess that explains the BJ.”
“E-excuse me?” Jared flushed.
Jensen turned around abruptly, realizing what he’d said. “B and J,” he clarified, “Ben and Jerry’s,” he added quickly.
“Oh, yeah,” Jared coughed nervously, “sweet tooth. Gets worse when I’m stressed.”
“So,” Chris segued, trying to steer the conversation back from a place that could possibly get both him and Jensen reprimanded, “do you have any idea why someone would do this?”
“I’m pretty sure it was my roommate’s ex-girlfriend.” Jared kicked the torn sheets with the antler of his slipper.
Crouching down, Jensen wasn’t listening to Chris’ questioning, too focused on the now marred picture on the ground. It was an enlarged photograph of the lighthouse on Tybee Island against the backdrop of a cloud filled sky. “This shot is amazing.”
“Thanks,” Jared replied warmly.
Chris cleared his throat forcing Jensen’s mind back to the investigation. “Anyway, roommate’s girlfriend?” He shot Jensen a curious look.
“Yeah. I don’t think she took the break-up as well as he thought.”
“Why do you feel that she’s responsible? If she was upset over their break-up then wouldn’t she focus her attention on his room?” Chris nodded to the SLUT on the back of the door.
“The reason Chad gave her was he’d realized he liked men. I guess it was his way of letting her down easy,” Jared shook his head in disbelief.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with your room being ransacked,” Jensen looked over at the younger man.
Jared rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He mighta, sorta told Janie that I was the one that opened his eyes to the ‘joys of buttsex’,” he smiled sheepishly, fingers making air quotes.
“Did you?” Jensen was suddenly, insanely curious about the answer. His entire focus was on the younger man even though he kept his eyes focused on the pad in his hand - the pad he’d been writing random words on for the last few minutes.
“Me? With Chad?” Jared laughed heartily, head tipping back as the sound bubbled up his throat. Jensen glanced up and stood mesmerized by the sight of Jared’s exposed neck and the sound of his unrestrained happiness. He managed to pry his eyes away before Jared noticed. “Dude’s my best friend, but I wouldn’t touch Chad with someone else’s…” he trailed off, wide eyed and blushing.
“I still don’t see what makes you think this Janie is responsible. Isn’t it just as likely that this was done by someone you’ve dumped?” Chris took out a small digital camera and began taking pictures of the destruction.
“Gotta have someone to dump them,” Jared mumbled, “I think when you see Chad’s room, you’ll understand.”
Jensen and Chris followed Jared to Chad’s room. His things seemed to have fared better than Jared’s, but Jensen mainly contributed that to the piles of dirty clothes on the floor that cushioned any falling objects. The mattress was sliced just like Jared’s except here you could clearly see that the slashes formed the name ‘Janie’. On an undamaged patch of fabric a note was written in Sharpie.
Think of me when you’re fucking your cumslut.
Taking a picture, Chris lowered the camera. “That’s a lot of anger. It should make pressing charges easy, though.”
“Oh,” Jared sounded surprised, “I don’t want to press charges.”
“You don’t?” Jensen’s hand hovered over the pad where he’d been copying the note on the mattress.
“No,” Jared replied like it should be obvious. When the two officers didn’t seem to get it, he sighed. “I don’t want Janie to get in trouble. She’s pissed and has a right to be. Chad treated her pretty bad. We have renter’s insurance to pay for the damages.”
“And they won’t process the claim without a police report,” Jensen finished for him.
“Right,” Jared smiled wide and bright.
And just like that, staring into the blinding force that was Jared’s smile, Jensen knew he was done for.
After leaving that night, Jensen found himself making excuses to drop by Jared’s apartment - checking that the guys were okay, making sure that the insurance had all the information they needed. Unfortunately, each time he stopped by Jared wasn’t home. Jensen was frustrated, but determined that sooner or later luck had to be on his side. It was on his fifth attempt that things came to a head.
The door was answered by Chad, who ironically always seemed to be home when Jensen came by, bare-chested with a fleece blanket wrapped around his waist, the ends clutched tightly in his fist. His cheeks were rosy and his blonde hair was tousled.
“Why am I not surprised?” Chad growled slightly.
“Uh, hey, I wanted to make sure you guys weren’t having any more problems with Janie?” Jensen blushed under Chad’s skeptical gaze.
“Chad? Come back!” Looking over Chad’s shoulder, Jensen saw a leggy brunette leaning against the back of the couch. She had on a men’s button up shirt, unbuttoned to her naval and revealing her deeply tanned stomach.
“Just a minute, babe,” Chad called over his shoulder. Turning his attention back to Jensen, his face grew serious. “Look, dude, I get that you’re obsessed with my boy and til now it’s been kinda cute in a stalkerish sorta way. But your crush is cockblocking me,” he jerked his head back in the direction of the scantily clad co-ed, “and that ain’t gonna happen. Jared works weekends at The Plank down on River Street. It’s one of those pirate themed places that the tourists love so much. Why don’t you do us both a favor and just go ask his ass out? Lord knows the boy needs to get laid.” With that Chad stepped back and slammed the newly painted door in Jensen’s face.
*****
River Street was only a few blocks from Jared and Chad’s apartment and Jensen allowed himself to be absorbed in the crowd that descended on Savannah’s historic district nightly in search of one of the many watering holes that made the town famous. It took him a few minutes to find The Plank, as he usually avoiding the more tourist tailored bars in favor of hole-in-the-wall haunts that only the locals knew and patronized.
He chuckled at the six foot wooden pirate standing sentinel outside the front door and pushed his way into the dimly lit tavern. Shouldering his way past the throngs of people, he finally spotted Jared behind the bar and his steps stuttered to a stop.
Jared was dressed like the other bartender in fitted black pants and a satin black button up shirt, undone enough to reveal tanned skin and a muscular chest. A black bandana was tied around his head and black kohl rimmed his eyes. The billowy sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow exposing strong forearms and slender wrists adorned with thick black leather cuffs. When the younger man leaned over the bar and tilted his head to hear a customer’s order better, a gold stud glinted from the lobe of his right ear. Jensen tried to reconcile the innocent man he’d met, dressed adorably in flannel pajamas and moose slippers, with the epitome of sex serving drinks behind the bar. Surreptitiously he adjusted his suddenly too tight jeans and made his way to the bar, noticing the number of patrons vying for Jared’s attention.
He waited patiently until Jared moved to his end of the bar to get a Heineken for one of the waitresses. When he stepped back to the bar, hands deftly removing the bottle cap with a practiced twist of the opener, Jared’s eyes finally fell to Jensen.
“Hey,” he grinned, “give me a sec. I’ll be right back.” Jared handed the bottle to the waitress with a wink. Wiping his hands on the black apron around his waist, he headed back to Jensen.
“Officer Ackles,” he beamed. Taking in Jensen’s casual appearance, he quirked an eyebrow, “You’re not here in an official capacity, are you?”
“Nope, and it’s just Jensen tonight,” he smirked, leaning on the bar.
“Great,” Jared held a finger out to another customer rivaling for his attention, “Wet your whistle?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one of these,” Jensen pointed at a laminated card sitting in a holder on the bar advertising The Plank’s signature drink, Davy Jones’ Locker. He’d been fiddling with the card while waiting for Jared to notice him and was intrigued by the pub’s claims that it was the most potent drink in Savannah.
“That’s not for landlubbers,” Jared warned with a teasing smile, dimples indenting his cheeks deeply, “You sure you’re up for it?”
Snorting, Jensen rolled his eyes, “Just make the damn drink, Jack Sparrow.”
Jared smiled mischievously and spun around. “We have someone going down to the locker!” Jared screamed above the music and conversations, ringing a bell bolted behind the bar.
The entire bar chorused back, “Dead men tell no tales!”
Jensen’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, it was the alcoholic’s version of having the wait staff sing Happy Birthday to you in a restaurant. He glared at Jared who only laughed, pulling bottles off the back shelf. Jensen eyes widened as he watched as the young bartender poured gin then rum then vodka in a tall glass. Setting the bottles back on the shelf, he grabbed a square bottle of green liquid from under the bar and added it to the mix. Finally, he snatched a brown jug, marked with three Xs, from a shelf where it sat by itself in a place of honor, people whooping as the clear liquid within was added to the glass. Jensen glanced down at the plastic encased card to see what the last ingredient had been only to find it listed as ‘mermaid tears’. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness, he wondered if the tourists really fell for this kitschy crap.
Jared picked up a treasure chest, about the size of an old time lunchbox, and Jensen’s drink then headed back to the off duty cop. Setting the chest on the bar, drink still in hand, he opened the lid.
“Keys, Officer Ackles.”
“What?” Jensen frowned, peering into the chest to see several sets of keys gathered at the bottom. “Sorry, Jared. I’m not into key parties.”
Jared chuckled, jostling the chest to make the keys rattle. “Sorry, Officer. Its house policy for anyone ordering the DJL that you hand over your keys. This way we can make sure you’re safe to drive when you leave. No keys, no drink.” Jared moved his hand so the drink was hidden behind his back.
“How community minded of you,” Jensen dug into his pocket and tossed his keys in the chest. He didn’t plan on getting drunk, but it gave him an excuse to talk to Jared again so he could retrieve his keys.
“More like legally minded,” Jared winked, setting the drink on the bar.
Jensen sniffed at the fruity smelling drink and took a tentative sip. The liquor went down easily, the sweetness negating the harsh burn of the alcohol.
“Good?” Jared held the closed treasure chest under one arm, the bottom edge propped on his hip.
Smiling in surprise, he took a large gulp. “Yeah. Not bad for a girl drink.”
“Careful, tiger. That girl drink packs a delayed punch. We’ll be scooping you up off the floor.” Jared smiled and returned the chest to its place under the bar, moving away to help the other customers.
Jensen lost track of time, the first drink was quickly followed by a second and third. Jared came over as often as possible to check on him and chat when he had a spare minute - which wasn’t often. He was popular eye candy for both sexes, the women hoisting their boobs up on the bar for easier viewing and the men shooting lecherous glances. He had a vague notion that the alcohol was affecting him when his trip to the restroom after his second drink was markedly more staggering than the one after his first. He tried to order a fourth, but Jared shook his head and pushed a large glass of water in his direction. Shrugging, too mellow to really care, Jensen picked up the glass and drank the cool liquid.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned considerably, allowing Jared more time to talk. Jensen learned that Jared worked at The Plank on Friday and Saturday nights and one of the old time photo studios Monday through Thursday. He was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design and, like Jensen, was the middle child with an older brother and younger sister. He groaned when Jared’s bartending partner, Kevin, yelled out for last call, not ready for the night to be over.
Pointing at the treasure chest beneath the bar, Jensen snapped his fingers. “Keys.” He hefted up from the stool and staggered when his brain decided to let his legs work without any direction. Grabbing the edge of the bar for support, he blinked his eyes hard trying to clear the dizziness from his vision.
“Uh-uh, Officer,” Jared waved his finger back and forth. “You’re toasted. You got someone you want me to call or should I get you a cab?”
“J’rd,” he slurred, his voice pitching into a whine as he dropped back on the stool.
“No can do. I’d be heartbroken if something happened to you,” that dimpled smile was back, dazzling Jensen with its brilliance, “So what will it be, a friend or a cab?”
Sighing, Jensen tugged his cell phone from his pocket, fumbling with it twice before he got it free, and handed it over to the younger man. “Crishun,” he flapped his hand at the phone, “he’ll come,” he nodded for emphasis.
“Crishun,” Jared repeated, thumbing through the contacts until he found ‘Christian’, “You mean Christian?”
“Crishun,” Jensen nodded his head once sharply in agreement.
Jared hit the button to call Jensen’s friend, hoping the man didn’t mind being woken up at three in the morning. Moving to the entrance to lock the door to keep any new customers out, Jared listened to the phone ring. When he was certain this Christian’s voicemail was going to pick up, the phone was answered by a gruff voice.
“ ‘lo.”
“Hey, is this Christian?” Jared gathered a few empty glasses from the tables dotting the establishment and carried them to the bar.
“Yeah. Who the fuck is this?”
“This is Jared down at The Plank. Jensen,” even though Jared hadn’t called the other man by his first name, opting instead to refer to his as ‘Officer’ all night, he’d heard Jensen say it earlier, “is here and needs a ride home. He said I should call you.” Jared moved to the wall and flipped a switch that cut the power to the neon signs that hung on the walls.
There were some growled mumbles that sounded like ‘fucking idiot’ and the rustling of fabric. “Fuck. Okay. I’m getting up.” Then something seemed to occur to the other man. “Jared?” The voice was questioning, like Christian was trying to place him.
“Yeah?” Jared went back to the door and let out the few straggling customers, relocking the door once he ushered them outside. Jensen was the only remaining patron and he was leaning heavily on the bar, eyelids drooping.
“Pada-something, right?”
“Padalecki,” Jared offered, wiping down the bar with a rag. He gently touched Jensen’s arm, motioning for the older man to move back so he could clean the area in front of him.
There was more grumbling then Jared heard the jingling of keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you meet me out front at like three-thirty so I can get the moron?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ve got a few more things to finish up anyway. See you then.” Jared set the phone next to his own on the shelf behind the bar, “Christian will be here in a little bit so you’re stuck with me for a few more minutes.”
When he didn’t get a response he looked over to see Jensen dozing, head nestled on his folded arms. Smiling fondly, Jared quickly took care of this end of the night duties.
Gathering his and Jensen’s things, he came up behind Jensen, patting him gently on the back. “Come on, Officer. Up you go. Let’s get you outside so your friend can come collect you.” He waved at Kevin when he called a good night on his way out.
“Crishun awsum,” Jensen stumbled into Jared’s chest, deeply inhaling the scent of sweat and alcohol with a hint of something more underneath, “He m’bes frien.” Somewhere in his hazy mind, Jensen knew that his words were missing consonants, losing them somewhere on the path from his brain to his mouth, but Jared seemed to understand.
“I’m glad. Friends are important and Christian must be a great one.” He steadied Jensen with an arm around his waist. He guided the inebriated man to the door, hitting the switch for the lights and inserting the key in the lock. Pulling the door closed, he twisted the key hearing the slide of the deadbolt engaging. “Here we go,” he cooed, leaning Jensen against the wall.
Jensen settled his head in the crook of Jared’s neck, breathing deep, “Smell g’d,” he hummed. “Should go out, J’rd,” he tipped his head back until it met the wall, smacking his numb lips, “Chad says you need laid.” The words came out lazily and Jensen sighed, eyes sliding closed.
“Did he, now?” Jared chuckled, “Sounds like something Chad would say. When did you talk to him?” He glanced at his watch. Christian should be here any minute.
“Been by,” Jensen mumbled, “Ne’er home, J’rd. Can’t go out if you’re ne’er home.” Jensen slid down the wall, body too heavy for his shaky knees. Large, warm hands cupped his hips and braced him.
Jared started to answer when headlights bathed them in a soft glow. An older model pick-up truck pulled up to the curb and a stocky man climbed out of the cab. “Can he walk?”
“Officer Kane?” Jared hadn’t placed the man’s voice on the phone, but it made sense that Jensen would call his partner. It also explained why Christian knew his last name.
“In the flesh. Help me get him loaded, would ya’?” Christian moved to Jensen’s side, dragging the drunk man’s arm over his shoulders.
“Of course.” Jared mimicked Christian’s position and together they got Jensen in the passenger seat of the truck. Jared reached across Jensen and buckled the seatbelt. He startled when a wet kiss was pressed to his cheek.
“Date?” Jensen mumbled, his glazed eyes sleepy and hopeful.
“Sure, Jensen. You get some sleep, okay?” Jared patted his leg and shut the door carefully.
Christian leaned against the fender, arms folded over his chest and ankles crossed. When Jared closed the door, he pushed off. “Thanks for staying with him. You’re a good guy.”
“Sure,” Jared stared through the passenger window at the man. Jensen had his eyes closed and mouth open, snoring softly on each exhale. “Hey, you mind doing me a favor?” Jared dug his wallet out of his pocket.
“Depends?”
Pulling a receipt from the leather billfold, Jared snagged the pen from his shirt pocket. “Give this to Jensen.” He placed the scrap of paper on the passenger window and scribbled a quick note.
Regarding Jared skeptically, Christian deliberated for a minute before nodding. “Yeah. I can do that.” There was a thud and they both looked to see Jensen had slumped over, his face pressed against the glass. “I’d better get him home. Night, Jared.”
“Night, Christian,” Jared patted the hood of the truck twice and stepped back. He waited for the truck to pull away before he headed to the stairs that led to the Bay Street.
*****
Jensen woke up the next morning, head pounding out a throbbing bass and mouth filled with cotton. He hadn’t been this hung over since the Kappa Sig’s graduation party. God, those drinks needed to come with a warning from the Surgeon General. His stomach roiled dangerously and he jerked up, barely making it to the bathroom in time.
Slumped back against the tub, head lolled back on the edge, Jensen dug through his clouded memories of last night. There was a half-naked guy and pirates? A treasure chest and Jared? Oh, God. Jared. Banging his head against the porcelain, groaning as it shot pain through his aching head, he tried to remember what he said to the gorgeous bartender. Thinking actually hurt - he couldn’t even recall how he’d gotten home - and Jensen gave up after a few minutes. Sighing, he got to his feet and rinsed his mouth, then brushed his teeth. Stumbling to the kitchen, he swallowed two pain killers and chugged a bottle of water. Making his way back to the couch, he dropped down and flung an arm over his eyes.
His phone vibrated on the coffee table, dancing across the wooden surface, and Jensen slapped his hand out. Lifting it up, he read the text message from Christian.
U owe me, asshole.
Well, that explained how he got home. His phone vibrated again and he read Christian’s next message.
Read the note.
Note? Turning his head to the coffee table, he reached over and picked up a folded rectangle of paper tucked under his keys. It was a receipt for Twizzlers and Mountain Dew from a gas station on Bay Street. Wrinkling his forehead, he flipped it over to find something scrawled on the back.
Officer,
If you wake up alive and want to make good on your offer, give me a call.
Jared
There was no number. He turned the slip of paper over, but the only thing there was the digital itemization of Jared’s purchase. How was he supposed to call Jared if he didn’t have his number? Dropping his hands to his stomach, they connected with the hard plastic of his phone. Raising his eyebrows, he picked up the device and scrolled through his contacts. In the list between Home and Joseph was Jared.
Smiling despite the drumbeat in his head, Jensen lurched up. Rushing to the bathroom, Jensen thought Jared might be worth the hangover.
Author: jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: J2, OMC/Jared
Rating: R (This Chapter NC-17 Overall)
Beta: glimmerella
Word Count: ~4500
Warnings: Overall: AU, dub-con, abuse, past MPREG,AU
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing with the pretty, pretty people.
Summary: How Jared and Jensen from Redemption met.
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. The Plank is a place of my own creation, but the drink, Davy Jones' Locker, is eerily similar to a popular NewOrleans' drink.
Jensen and Chris had met while attending Mercer both studying criminal justice with the hopes of making a difference. They sat next to each other during their first class on the first day and became fast friends. After graduation they both accepted positions on the Savannah Police Department, working a beat in the historic district. They’d been on the force for almost two years when they got a call about a break-in with vandalism at one of the well-known college apartment complexes.
“I swear to God, Jen, if this is another hazing stunt gone wrong I’m gonna rip those fraternity peckerheads a new one,” Chris grumbled ascending the stairs to apartment 4D, the scene of the reported crime.
“Come on,” Jensen pushed his shoulder good-naturedly, “that one call with the naked guy tied to a chair with peanut butter spread on his balls was pretty good.”
“For his dog,” Chris shoved back, working hard to contain his smile. “God, the things we see during Pledge Week.”
Catching himself up against the wall, Jensen laughed. “Hey, man’s best friend is his dog. Who of us hasn’t needed a helping tongue - I mean, hand - from a friend?”
“You’re twisted, Ackles,” Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes, “And people think I’m the perverted one.”
“That’s because I’m sweet and innocent.” Batting his eyelashes, he stepped onto the fourth floor landing and pointed down the hall. “It’s down that way.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Chris rolled his eyes and headed in the direction Jensen indicated, stopping in front of a white door with the word WHORE written across it in black spray paint. “Something tells me this is it.”
“Figure that out there by yourself, Sherlock?” Jensen snarked, hand lifting to knock on the door.
“Suck my dick, Watson.”
The scraping of locks turning had them slipping on the professional masks they wore when dealing with the public just in time for the door to swing open. A tall man stood in the doorway, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s cradled to his chest. Pulling the spoon out, dragging it down across his bottom lip to scrape all the ice cream from the inverted bowl, the guy gave them an embarrassed smile.
“Hey,” he mumbled around the mouthful of ice cream, tilting his head back slightly to keep it in his mouth, “come in.” He stepped back to allow them to enter.
Exchanging a sidelong glance with Chris, Jensen led them into the apartment. “I’m Officer Ackles and this is my partner, Officer Kane. We received a call from a Mr. Padalecki saying that you had a break-in and some vandalism. Is the front door the only thing that was damaged?” Jensen looked around the living room and didn’t see any evidence that anything inside the apartment was damaged.
“Uh, no,” the guy said, setting the container of ice cream down, “and it’s Jared. The majority of it is this way.”
He motioned for them to follow and guided them down a short hallway to an open door. Reaching in, Jared flicked on the light and held out his arm in invitation. The room was in shambles. The sheets had been stripped from the bed and lay shredded on the floor. The mattress was gutted, tufts of stuffing poking out through the ripped cover. Pictures had been pulled from the walls, their frames bent and glass broken. The shattered remains of keepsakes littered the floor while the once pale blue walls sported the same spray painted slanders as the front door. Turning away from the three foot high COCKSUCKER on the wall over the bed, Jensen pulled a pad from his pocket.
“Your room?” He clicked his pen and started making notes.
“Yeah. I came home from school and found it like,” Jared flapped a massive hand to encompass the mess, “this.”
“Did you touch anything?” Chris walked around the room, glass crunching under his boots, to examine the mattress closer.
“Swept some of the glass to the side to make a path to the dresser, opened the middle and bottom drawers. I got drenched on the way home and honestly didn’t expect you guys for a while. Didn’t feel like freezing my nuts off waiting so I changed clothes.” He waved a hand at his body to show his t-shirt and lounge pants. Given the invitation, Jensen allowed himself an appraising look. Jared was definitely a tall drink of water and the way his clothes hung hinted at a strong, slender body. He had slanted hazel eyes that seemed to change when the light reflected off them at different angles and dimples that subtly winked at Jensen each time he talked. Jensen did a double take when he noticed Jared’s footwear. He was wearing giant fuzzy moose slippers.
“I see,” Jensen made another note and moved to the broken pictures, “I guess that explains the BJ.”
“E-excuse me?” Jared flushed.
Jensen turned around abruptly, realizing what he’d said. “B and J,” he clarified, “Ben and Jerry’s,” he added quickly.
“Oh, yeah,” Jared coughed nervously, “sweet tooth. Gets worse when I’m stressed.”
“So,” Chris segued, trying to steer the conversation back from a place that could possibly get both him and Jensen reprimanded, “do you have any idea why someone would do this?”
“I’m pretty sure it was my roommate’s ex-girlfriend.” Jared kicked the torn sheets with the antler of his slipper.
Crouching down, Jensen wasn’t listening to Chris’ questioning, too focused on the now marred picture on the ground. It was an enlarged photograph of the lighthouse on Tybee Island against the backdrop of a cloud filled sky. “This shot is amazing.”
“Thanks,” Jared replied warmly.
Chris cleared his throat forcing Jensen’s mind back to the investigation. “Anyway, roommate’s girlfriend?” He shot Jensen a curious look.
“Yeah. I don’t think she took the break-up as well as he thought.”
“Why do you feel that she’s responsible? If she was upset over their break-up then wouldn’t she focus her attention on his room?” Chris nodded to the SLUT on the back of the door.
“The reason Chad gave her was he’d realized he liked men. I guess it was his way of letting her down easy,” Jared shook his head in disbelief.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with your room being ransacked,” Jensen looked over at the younger man.
Jared rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He mighta, sorta told Janie that I was the one that opened his eyes to the ‘joys of buttsex’,” he smiled sheepishly, fingers making air quotes.
“Did you?” Jensen was suddenly, insanely curious about the answer. His entire focus was on the younger man even though he kept his eyes focused on the pad in his hand - the pad he’d been writing random words on for the last few minutes.
“Me? With Chad?” Jared laughed heartily, head tipping back as the sound bubbled up his throat. Jensen glanced up and stood mesmerized by the sight of Jared’s exposed neck and the sound of his unrestrained happiness. He managed to pry his eyes away before Jared noticed. “Dude’s my best friend, but I wouldn’t touch Chad with someone else’s…” he trailed off, wide eyed and blushing.
“I still don’t see what makes you think this Janie is responsible. Isn’t it just as likely that this was done by someone you’ve dumped?” Chris took out a small digital camera and began taking pictures of the destruction.
“Gotta have someone to dump them,” Jared mumbled, “I think when you see Chad’s room, you’ll understand.”
Jensen and Chris followed Jared to Chad’s room. His things seemed to have fared better than Jared’s, but Jensen mainly contributed that to the piles of dirty clothes on the floor that cushioned any falling objects. The mattress was sliced just like Jared’s except here you could clearly see that the slashes formed the name ‘Janie’. On an undamaged patch of fabric a note was written in Sharpie.
Think of me when you’re fucking your cumslut.
Taking a picture, Chris lowered the camera. “That’s a lot of anger. It should make pressing charges easy, though.”
“Oh,” Jared sounded surprised, “I don’t want to press charges.”
“You don’t?” Jensen’s hand hovered over the pad where he’d been copying the note on the mattress.
“No,” Jared replied like it should be obvious. When the two officers didn’t seem to get it, he sighed. “I don’t want Janie to get in trouble. She’s pissed and has a right to be. Chad treated her pretty bad. We have renter’s insurance to pay for the damages.”
“And they won’t process the claim without a police report,” Jensen finished for him.
“Right,” Jared smiled wide and bright.
And just like that, staring into the blinding force that was Jared’s smile, Jensen knew he was done for.
After leaving that night, Jensen found himself making excuses to drop by Jared’s apartment - checking that the guys were okay, making sure that the insurance had all the information they needed. Unfortunately, each time he stopped by Jared wasn’t home. Jensen was frustrated, but determined that sooner or later luck had to be on his side. It was on his fifth attempt that things came to a head.
The door was answered by Chad, who ironically always seemed to be home when Jensen came by, bare-chested with a fleece blanket wrapped around his waist, the ends clutched tightly in his fist. His cheeks were rosy and his blonde hair was tousled.
“Why am I not surprised?” Chad growled slightly.
“Uh, hey, I wanted to make sure you guys weren’t having any more problems with Janie?” Jensen blushed under Chad’s skeptical gaze.
“Chad? Come back!” Looking over Chad’s shoulder, Jensen saw a leggy brunette leaning against the back of the couch. She had on a men’s button up shirt, unbuttoned to her naval and revealing her deeply tanned stomach.
“Just a minute, babe,” Chad called over his shoulder. Turning his attention back to Jensen, his face grew serious. “Look, dude, I get that you’re obsessed with my boy and til now it’s been kinda cute in a stalkerish sorta way. But your crush is cockblocking me,” he jerked his head back in the direction of the scantily clad co-ed, “and that ain’t gonna happen. Jared works weekends at The Plank down on River Street. It’s one of those pirate themed places that the tourists love so much. Why don’t you do us both a favor and just go ask his ass out? Lord knows the boy needs to get laid.” With that Chad stepped back and slammed the newly painted door in Jensen’s face.
*****
River Street was only a few blocks from Jared and Chad’s apartment and Jensen allowed himself to be absorbed in the crowd that descended on Savannah’s historic district nightly in search of one of the many watering holes that made the town famous. It took him a few minutes to find The Plank, as he usually avoiding the more tourist tailored bars in favor of hole-in-the-wall haunts that only the locals knew and patronized.
He chuckled at the six foot wooden pirate standing sentinel outside the front door and pushed his way into the dimly lit tavern. Shouldering his way past the throngs of people, he finally spotted Jared behind the bar and his steps stuttered to a stop.
Jared was dressed like the other bartender in fitted black pants and a satin black button up shirt, undone enough to reveal tanned skin and a muscular chest. A black bandana was tied around his head and black kohl rimmed his eyes. The billowy sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow exposing strong forearms and slender wrists adorned with thick black leather cuffs. When the younger man leaned over the bar and tilted his head to hear a customer’s order better, a gold stud glinted from the lobe of his right ear. Jensen tried to reconcile the innocent man he’d met, dressed adorably in flannel pajamas and moose slippers, with the epitome of sex serving drinks behind the bar. Surreptitiously he adjusted his suddenly too tight jeans and made his way to the bar, noticing the number of patrons vying for Jared’s attention.
He waited patiently until Jared moved to his end of the bar to get a Heineken for one of the waitresses. When he stepped back to the bar, hands deftly removing the bottle cap with a practiced twist of the opener, Jared’s eyes finally fell to Jensen.
“Hey,” he grinned, “give me a sec. I’ll be right back.” Jared handed the bottle to the waitress with a wink. Wiping his hands on the black apron around his waist, he headed back to Jensen.
“Officer Ackles,” he beamed. Taking in Jensen’s casual appearance, he quirked an eyebrow, “You’re not here in an official capacity, are you?”
“Nope, and it’s just Jensen tonight,” he smirked, leaning on the bar.
“Great,” Jared held a finger out to another customer rivaling for his attention, “Wet your whistle?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one of these,” Jensen pointed at a laminated card sitting in a holder on the bar advertising The Plank’s signature drink, Davy Jones’ Locker. He’d been fiddling with the card while waiting for Jared to notice him and was intrigued by the pub’s claims that it was the most potent drink in Savannah.
“That’s not for landlubbers,” Jared warned with a teasing smile, dimples indenting his cheeks deeply, “You sure you’re up for it?”
Snorting, Jensen rolled his eyes, “Just make the damn drink, Jack Sparrow.”
Jared smiled mischievously and spun around. “We have someone going down to the locker!” Jared screamed above the music and conversations, ringing a bell bolted behind the bar.
The entire bar chorused back, “Dead men tell no tales!”
Jensen’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, it was the alcoholic’s version of having the wait staff sing Happy Birthday to you in a restaurant. He glared at Jared who only laughed, pulling bottles off the back shelf. Jensen eyes widened as he watched as the young bartender poured gin then rum then vodka in a tall glass. Setting the bottles back on the shelf, he grabbed a square bottle of green liquid from under the bar and added it to the mix. Finally, he snatched a brown jug, marked with three Xs, from a shelf where it sat by itself in a place of honor, people whooping as the clear liquid within was added to the glass. Jensen glanced down at the plastic encased card to see what the last ingredient had been only to find it listed as ‘mermaid tears’. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness, he wondered if the tourists really fell for this kitschy crap.
Jared picked up a treasure chest, about the size of an old time lunchbox, and Jensen’s drink then headed back to the off duty cop. Setting the chest on the bar, drink still in hand, he opened the lid.
“Keys, Officer Ackles.”
“What?” Jensen frowned, peering into the chest to see several sets of keys gathered at the bottom. “Sorry, Jared. I’m not into key parties.”
Jared chuckled, jostling the chest to make the keys rattle. “Sorry, Officer. Its house policy for anyone ordering the DJL that you hand over your keys. This way we can make sure you’re safe to drive when you leave. No keys, no drink.” Jared moved his hand so the drink was hidden behind his back.
“How community minded of you,” Jensen dug into his pocket and tossed his keys in the chest. He didn’t plan on getting drunk, but it gave him an excuse to talk to Jared again so he could retrieve his keys.
“More like legally minded,” Jared winked, setting the drink on the bar.
Jensen sniffed at the fruity smelling drink and took a tentative sip. The liquor went down easily, the sweetness negating the harsh burn of the alcohol.
“Good?” Jared held the closed treasure chest under one arm, the bottom edge propped on his hip.
Smiling in surprise, he took a large gulp. “Yeah. Not bad for a girl drink.”
“Careful, tiger. That girl drink packs a delayed punch. We’ll be scooping you up off the floor.” Jared smiled and returned the chest to its place under the bar, moving away to help the other customers.
Jensen lost track of time, the first drink was quickly followed by a second and third. Jared came over as often as possible to check on him and chat when he had a spare minute - which wasn’t often. He was popular eye candy for both sexes, the women hoisting their boobs up on the bar for easier viewing and the men shooting lecherous glances. He had a vague notion that the alcohol was affecting him when his trip to the restroom after his second drink was markedly more staggering than the one after his first. He tried to order a fourth, but Jared shook his head and pushed a large glass of water in his direction. Shrugging, too mellow to really care, Jensen picked up the glass and drank the cool liquid.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned considerably, allowing Jared more time to talk. Jensen learned that Jared worked at The Plank on Friday and Saturday nights and one of the old time photo studios Monday through Thursday. He was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design and, like Jensen, was the middle child with an older brother and younger sister. He groaned when Jared’s bartending partner, Kevin, yelled out for last call, not ready for the night to be over.
Pointing at the treasure chest beneath the bar, Jensen snapped his fingers. “Keys.” He hefted up from the stool and staggered when his brain decided to let his legs work without any direction. Grabbing the edge of the bar for support, he blinked his eyes hard trying to clear the dizziness from his vision.
“Uh-uh, Officer,” Jared waved his finger back and forth. “You’re toasted. You got someone you want me to call or should I get you a cab?”
“J’rd,” he slurred, his voice pitching into a whine as he dropped back on the stool.
“No can do. I’d be heartbroken if something happened to you,” that dimpled smile was back, dazzling Jensen with its brilliance, “So what will it be, a friend or a cab?”
Sighing, Jensen tugged his cell phone from his pocket, fumbling with it twice before he got it free, and handed it over to the younger man. “Crishun,” he flapped his hand at the phone, “he’ll come,” he nodded for emphasis.
“Crishun,” Jared repeated, thumbing through the contacts until he found ‘Christian’, “You mean Christian?”
“Crishun,” Jensen nodded his head once sharply in agreement.
Jared hit the button to call Jensen’s friend, hoping the man didn’t mind being woken up at three in the morning. Moving to the entrance to lock the door to keep any new customers out, Jared listened to the phone ring. When he was certain this Christian’s voicemail was going to pick up, the phone was answered by a gruff voice.
“ ‘lo.”
“Hey, is this Christian?” Jared gathered a few empty glasses from the tables dotting the establishment and carried them to the bar.
“Yeah. Who the fuck is this?”
“This is Jared down at The Plank. Jensen,” even though Jared hadn’t called the other man by his first name, opting instead to refer to his as ‘Officer’ all night, he’d heard Jensen say it earlier, “is here and needs a ride home. He said I should call you.” Jared moved to the wall and flipped a switch that cut the power to the neon signs that hung on the walls.
There were some growled mumbles that sounded like ‘fucking idiot’ and the rustling of fabric. “Fuck. Okay. I’m getting up.” Then something seemed to occur to the other man. “Jared?” The voice was questioning, like Christian was trying to place him.
“Yeah?” Jared went back to the door and let out the few straggling customers, relocking the door once he ushered them outside. Jensen was the only remaining patron and he was leaning heavily on the bar, eyelids drooping.
“Pada-something, right?”
“Padalecki,” Jared offered, wiping down the bar with a rag. He gently touched Jensen’s arm, motioning for the older man to move back so he could clean the area in front of him.
There was more grumbling then Jared heard the jingling of keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you meet me out front at like three-thirty so I can get the moron?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ve got a few more things to finish up anyway. See you then.” Jared set the phone next to his own on the shelf behind the bar, “Christian will be here in a little bit so you’re stuck with me for a few more minutes.”
When he didn’t get a response he looked over to see Jensen dozing, head nestled on his folded arms. Smiling fondly, Jared quickly took care of this end of the night duties.
Gathering his and Jensen’s things, he came up behind Jensen, patting him gently on the back. “Come on, Officer. Up you go. Let’s get you outside so your friend can come collect you.” He waved at Kevin when he called a good night on his way out.
“Crishun awsum,” Jensen stumbled into Jared’s chest, deeply inhaling the scent of sweat and alcohol with a hint of something more underneath, “He m’bes frien.” Somewhere in his hazy mind, Jensen knew that his words were missing consonants, losing them somewhere on the path from his brain to his mouth, but Jared seemed to understand.
“I’m glad. Friends are important and Christian must be a great one.” He steadied Jensen with an arm around his waist. He guided the inebriated man to the door, hitting the switch for the lights and inserting the key in the lock. Pulling the door closed, he twisted the key hearing the slide of the deadbolt engaging. “Here we go,” he cooed, leaning Jensen against the wall.
Jensen settled his head in the crook of Jared’s neck, breathing deep, “Smell g’d,” he hummed. “Should go out, J’rd,” he tipped his head back until it met the wall, smacking his numb lips, “Chad says you need laid.” The words came out lazily and Jensen sighed, eyes sliding closed.
“Did he, now?” Jared chuckled, “Sounds like something Chad would say. When did you talk to him?” He glanced at his watch. Christian should be here any minute.
“Been by,” Jensen mumbled, “Ne’er home, J’rd. Can’t go out if you’re ne’er home.” Jensen slid down the wall, body too heavy for his shaky knees. Large, warm hands cupped his hips and braced him.
Jared started to answer when headlights bathed them in a soft glow. An older model pick-up truck pulled up to the curb and a stocky man climbed out of the cab. “Can he walk?”
“Officer Kane?” Jared hadn’t placed the man’s voice on the phone, but it made sense that Jensen would call his partner. It also explained why Christian knew his last name.
“In the flesh. Help me get him loaded, would ya’?” Christian moved to Jensen’s side, dragging the drunk man’s arm over his shoulders.
“Of course.” Jared mimicked Christian’s position and together they got Jensen in the passenger seat of the truck. Jared reached across Jensen and buckled the seatbelt. He startled when a wet kiss was pressed to his cheek.
“Date?” Jensen mumbled, his glazed eyes sleepy and hopeful.
“Sure, Jensen. You get some sleep, okay?” Jared patted his leg and shut the door carefully.
Christian leaned against the fender, arms folded over his chest and ankles crossed. When Jared closed the door, he pushed off. “Thanks for staying with him. You’re a good guy.”
“Sure,” Jared stared through the passenger window at the man. Jensen had his eyes closed and mouth open, snoring softly on each exhale. “Hey, you mind doing me a favor?” Jared dug his wallet out of his pocket.
“Depends?”
Pulling a receipt from the leather billfold, Jared snagged the pen from his shirt pocket. “Give this to Jensen.” He placed the scrap of paper on the passenger window and scribbled a quick note.
Regarding Jared skeptically, Christian deliberated for a minute before nodding. “Yeah. I can do that.” There was a thud and they both looked to see Jensen had slumped over, his face pressed against the glass. “I’d better get him home. Night, Jared.”
“Night, Christian,” Jared patted the hood of the truck twice and stepped back. He waited for the truck to pull away before he headed to the stairs that led to the Bay Street.
*****
Jensen woke up the next morning, head pounding out a throbbing bass and mouth filled with cotton. He hadn’t been this hung over since the Kappa Sig’s graduation party. God, those drinks needed to come with a warning from the Surgeon General. His stomach roiled dangerously and he jerked up, barely making it to the bathroom in time.
Slumped back against the tub, head lolled back on the edge, Jensen dug through his clouded memories of last night. There was a half-naked guy and pirates? A treasure chest and Jared? Oh, God. Jared. Banging his head against the porcelain, groaning as it shot pain through his aching head, he tried to remember what he said to the gorgeous bartender. Thinking actually hurt - he couldn’t even recall how he’d gotten home - and Jensen gave up after a few minutes. Sighing, he got to his feet and rinsed his mouth, then brushed his teeth. Stumbling to the kitchen, he swallowed two pain killers and chugged a bottle of water. Making his way back to the couch, he dropped down and flung an arm over his eyes.
His phone vibrated on the coffee table, dancing across the wooden surface, and Jensen slapped his hand out. Lifting it up, he read the text message from Christian.
U owe me, asshole.
Well, that explained how he got home. His phone vibrated again and he read Christian’s next message.
Read the note.
Note? Turning his head to the coffee table, he reached over and picked up a folded rectangle of paper tucked under his keys. It was a receipt for Twizzlers and Mountain Dew from a gas station on Bay Street. Wrinkling his forehead, he flipped it over to find something scrawled on the back.
Officer,
If you wake up alive and want to make good on your offer, give me a call.
Jared
There was no number. He turned the slip of paper over, but the only thing there was the digital itemization of Jared’s purchase. How was he supposed to call Jared if he didn’t have his number? Dropping his hands to his stomach, they connected with the hard plastic of his phone. Raising his eyebrows, he picked up the device and scrolled through his contacts. In the list between Home and Joseph was Jared.
Smiling despite the drumbeat in his head, Jensen lurched up. Rushing to the bathroom, Jensen thought Jared might be worth the hangover.