J2 fic: The Whole Kit and Caboodle

[withdiamonds]

Title: The Whole Kit and Caboodle
Pairing: J2
Word Count: 9500ish
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for j2_everafter. Movie: The Apple Dumpling Gang. Thanks as always to topaz119, especially for listening to me say "Omg, why aren't I writing?" ten times a day.
Summary: Oh, wow, how do I even summarize this. Based on one of the worst movies ever made? I'm afraid this is kid!fic? Jared and Jensen are not Don Knotts and Tim Conway, or even the characters they played in this movie. Thank goodness. Okay, here goes. Forced to stop for a day or two (by the fact that the stagecoach is uncomfortable) on his journey out West, Jensen Ackles finds himself in a small, dusty Nevada town. Passing the time (and trying to win enough money to buy a horse so he never has to take the stagecoach again) with a very lengthy poker game, Jensen soon finds himself in possession (don't ask) of three orphaned children. With the help of the tall, handsome owner of the General Store, (very convenient, since it takes a lot of supplies to wrangle children) Jensen makes a home in Red Gulch. Will he and Jared find a way to save the children from their evil uncle and fall madly in love in the process? (What do you think?)

AO3



Jensen Ackles asked himself for the hundredth time why he had thought traveling by stagecoach was a good idea. He'd been less seasick the last time he was on a ship than he was now. The coach rocked and rolled over the dusty, rutted trail that had the nerve to call itself a road, and if it didn't stop soon, he wasn't going to be responsible for where the contents of his stomach ended up.

The stagecoach driver seemed to be aiming right for the biggest of the ruts left over from the spring rains, and if Jensen had been the owner of the poor, struggling horses who were trying to pull the coach along while not breaking their legs, he'd have had the man's hide.

One particularly hard jounce had Jensen clutching his hat with one hand and his stomach with the other. The rest of the passengers didn't look any better pleased, and in fact, one formidable looking woman of uncertain age banged on the roof of the coach with her parasol in protest.

By the time they arrived in Red Gulch, Jensen had had enough. He was no namby-pamby, but his days as a stagecoach passenger were at a definite end. He was ready to throw in the sponge.

The dusty little frontier town wasn't his final destination, but when he disembarked for the very brief rest stop allowed by the impossible schedule the driver was keeping to, he realized there was no power in Heaven or Hell that was capable of getting him back on that stagecoach.

Standing motionless on unsteady legs, Jensen tried with some effort to get his stomach to stop turning cartwheels. He shook his head at the driver when the man pulled out a pocket watch and waved it at Jensen impatiently.

"I think I'm going to enjoy whatever attractions this lovely little town has to offer for the time being," Jensen said, hoping his voice didn't convey how very nauseous he was.

The driver shrugged, shooed the rest of the unfortunate passengers back into the coach like wayward ducklings, and was off down the street in a cloud of dust.

Jensen, having vowed never to set foot on a stagecoach again, was determined to purchase a horse and continue on to Reno on horseback. His business in Reno wasn't pressing; in fact, one could say it was more hopeful in nature, rather than urgent. As in, Jensen hoped there was actual business to conduct once he arrived. His brother - no, that was all water under the bridge and there was no use in thinking of it.

He therefore turned his attention to his current surroundings, hoping that somewhere in town was a reputable dealer of horseflesh.

Red Gulch was aptly named, as there appeared to be red dust covering every available structure. The wooden facades of the buildings had a sad kind of air about them, as if they had given up hoping for a new coat of paint a long time ago.

Far off in the distance, the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains shimmered in the heat of the afternoon, and the sun glinted off the snow that capped the highest peaks.

All in all, Jensen decided there were worse places to be.

He picked up his valise and turned in a slow circle, smiling to himself when he found what he was looking for.

The swinging doors of the Bighorn Saloon beckoned welcomingly. With any luck, Jensen would find a card game where he could win enough money to buy a decent nag.

"Howdy, stranger," the bartender said, as Jensen's eyes adjusted to the dim interior. "What brings you to these parts?"

"My backside couldn't take the stage for one more mile," Jensen admitted, smiling ruefully. He nodded at the bottle of whiskey sitting on the bar. "Make it a double." He just hoped the stuff wasn't cut with turpentine or any such similar rotgut. When the bartender slid a shot glass full of amber liquid in front of him, Jensen sipped it cautiously.

The bartender chuckled. "That whiskey's as fine as cream gravy, son, don't you worry 'bout that."

Jensen's tongue hadn't shriveled up or fallen off with his first sip, so he figured it was safe to swallow. He acknowledged the quality of the drink with a nod, then turned to lean back with his elbows on the bar, surveying the place.

It looked like any other saloon that could be found in a burg such as Red Gulch. Polished wood bar, brass spittoons, tables scattered around the place. There was a piano against the far wall, next to a staircase with a carved wooden railing.

About a half a dozen men hung around in various stages of sobriety. Not a bad crowd for mid-afternoon, Jensen thought. At one table sat four men playing poker - what looked to be five-card draw.

There were three saloon girls grouped around the piano, and they all aimed identical coquettish smiles in Jensen's direction. He smiled back but made no move in their direction. The blonde looked disappointed, the brunette tried not very successfully to hide her relief, and the redhead tossed her curls, turning away and looking over her shoulder at Jensen with disdain.

He threw back the rest of his whiskey and motioned to the bartender for another. Picking up his glass, he headed toward the card game.




Two days later, Jensen was still playing poker. Well, he'd taken a few breaks, had a meal or two, slept a bit in one of the rooms that were for rent over the saloon, but for the most part, he'd been playing poker. It was a way to pass the time, and to tell the truth, he'd wasn't exactly flush with winnings yet. That was kind of putting a spoke in the wheel of his plans to buy a horse and head on out of town.

Around about mid-afternoon, a well-dressed man got off the stage, headed straight for the saloon, and made his way into the ongoing poker game in no short order. He had a shifty look about him, but Jensen couldn't quite catch him cheating.

"Curtis Fuller," the man said, nodding at Jensen with a knowing smile. For some reason, the very look of the fellow set Jensen's teeth on edge. "Be much obliged if you'll allow me to bend an elbow with y'all, maybe join in with your game."

The afternoon advanced, as did the game. Jeff, the bartender, lit the oil lamps, his wife Samantha dished up supper from the kitchen to anyone who wanted it, candles guttered in their holders, and the piano player, a thin man name of Stephen, started in playing. The saloon girls, whose names Jensen had discovered were Alona, Genevieve, and Danneel, sat about looking pretty.

Jensen was aware of the Sheriff and a couple of the town's men folk having a drink at a table nearby, but nobody seemed inclined to nose into anyone else's business.

The game went on long into the night, and when he stumbled upstairs to his rented bed, Jensen was in possession of a sizable sum of money and the papers to some kind of deed he was a little fuzzy on the details of.

The details became clearer when he emerged from the Bighorn shortly after eleven the next morning. Hardworking folks around here probably didn't cotton to people who stayed in bed past noon, which is why he'd gotten up so early, but he wasn't that surprised when he set his bleary eyes on Sheriff Beaver and the man nodded at him and said, "Finally."

"Um," Jensen said eloquently. He squinted at the bright sun shining high in the sky. "Mornin', Sheriff. What can I do for you?" Half the townsfolk appeared to be gathered on the sidewalk. Curious.

"Best head back inside and pull up a chair, son," the Sheriff said cheerfully. "You might need to be settin' down for this."

Jensen stared at the Sheriff nervously, then shrugged and turned back into the saloon, followed by Beaver. He glanced around the barroom, and found, to his surprise, that three neatly dressed children had accompanied them inside and were at present peering out from behind the sheriff.

Jensen frowned and pulled out a chair. He wondered idly if there was any coffee to be had.

"I understand you had quite a night last night. Won quite a pile of cash," Beaver began. "Pretty flush, I reckon."

Jensen nodded. He was curious as to whether someone had been passing counterfeit money while playing. That might explain the sheriff thinking Jensen would need to sit down for whatever information he had to impart.

"Bully for you, son. Won yourself something else, too, I hear." Jensen didn't understand the undercurrent of amusement in the Sheriff's voice. His need for coffee grew more acute.

"Some kind of deed," he admitted. "I - well, I didn't exactly examine it too close, so I'm not really sure what it is." His cheeks felt warm at the possibility of being played for a fool.

"No, I don't imagine you did. That fella was mighty slick," Beaver said. The amusement was more pronounced this time. "He plum euchered you, son."

"Which fella was that, exactly?" Jensen asked uneasily.

"The one you were playing poker with last night." Jensen appreciated that the Sheriff hadn't yet come right out and called him a greenhorn, although for all his experience, Jensen was beginning to feel like one. "Curtis Fuller" Beaver continued. "Appears he left you the deed to his nieces and nephews."

He gestured to the children still clustered behind him, encouraging them to come out. They slowly emerged, looking up at Jensen with identical expressions of anxiety.

It took a minute for the words to sink in, and when they did, Jensen had to ask the Sheriff to repeat them.

"I don't understand," he said. "I don't know this man. I never even heard his name before today."

Sheriff Beaver shook his head, peering at Jensen from under the brim of his hat. "I don't know what to tell you, son," he said. "Mr. Fuller left town on the stage this morning, and left you -" he pointed at the three children clustered around him "- these adorable moppets. He went to a heap of trouble to do it, too, said all the paperwork was in order."

"I don't want those adorable moppets!" Jensen said with revulsion. There was a collective gasp from the townsfolk who had followed them in to the saloon to get the scuttlebutt on what that apparent four-flusher Fuller had been up to. "I mean," Jensen amended hastily, "What am I supposed to do with them? I'm not equipped to take care of them!"

"There's a vacant house right at the end of the Main Street," the sheriff said in a tone that suggested the matter was closed. "You all can settle in there, nice and cozy-like."

Jensen stared at him helplessly. He'd had no intention of staying in this scrubby little town for more than a few days, and now here he was, stuck with three children? He had no way out of town, and even if he'd had, he had a strong feeling the Sheriff would make sure he didn't get very far.

He was having a hard time trying to pinpoint the exact moment he'd lost control of his life.

Sinking back into his chair, Jensen inquired faintly, "Is there any coffee?" It was the only question that seemed to make any sense to him at all.




A house? Seriously, this is what they called a house around here? More like an abandoned shack, Jensen thought.

He studiously ignored the three children who were crowding around him in the doorway.

The children had apparently arrived on the stagecoach that had subsequently taken their uncle out of Jensen's reach. Jensen briefly entertained the idea of buying that sweet looking mare he'd had his eye on from Miss Cassidy, the schoolteacher, and heading after him.

He'd been discouraged from following that course of action by virtue of the fact that firstly, Miss Cassidy had already refused to sell him the horse, and secondly, Sheriff Beaver told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't about to allow Jensen to pass the buck on his responsibilities.

"But they're not mine!" Jensen practically whimpered. No one seemed impressed by this argument in the least. Jensen sighed and looked down at the three children, who looked back at him curiously. They were probably wondering why a grown man was wailing and pulling his hair out, at least metaphorically.

Jensen straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Hello," he said, holding his hand out to the children and smiling nervously at them. He didn't have any idea how one talked to children. "My name is Jensen Ackles. Uh, you may call me Mr. - um, Mr. Jensen."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen could see Sheriff Beaver nod his head approvingly.

All three children shook his hand in turn.

"My name is Rebecca," the eldest girl said. "I'm twelve years old and I know how to cook."

Thank Jesus, Jensen thought, and his smile widened.

"My name is Robert," the boy, shaking Jensen's hand firmly. "I'm ten years old. You can call me Robbie."

"Pleased to meet you, Robbie," Jensen said.

"My name is Abigail," the youngest said with a sunny smile. "I'm eight years old and I'm the youngest, but I'm not a baby."

"I'm sure you're not," Jensen assured her solemnly.

They were adorable and charming, and Jensen had no idea what in the hell he was supposed to do with them.

And now they were all staring in the doorway of the house at the end of Main Street, a house that Jensen would wager good money had been abandoned since the day it was built.

"Where are we going to sleep, Mr. Jensen?" Abigail asked, looking around at the place critically. Jensen certainly couldn't blame her for the look of worry on her face.

Good question, he thought. There was one big room, with a beat-up wooden counter along one wall. Stuck in the middle of that was a tin sink and a water pump that looked completely rusted over. In another corner stood a run-down looking bed, with a dusty cover - so dusty in fact, that Abigail could be excused for not realizing there was even a bed underneath it.

There was a smaller room at the back that had obviously been used as a storeroom, with a narrow door that opened into a miniscule yard where an outhouse stood, looking supremely uninviting.

Robbie tugged on Jensen's sleeve, and Jensen looked down to discover wide eyes set in a pale face.

"I'm hungry, Mr. Jensen."

Oh, god. Jensen looked frantically around, but saw nothing that in any way resembled a way to procure supper.

Rebecca was looking around with the same expression, and Jensen hoped between the two of them, they could scare up something to fill three - make that four - hungry bellies before it was time to tackle the bed in the corner.

But the place was completely devoid of anything in the least bit useful.

"I think we're going to have to go to the Bighorn for a bite to eat before we do anything else," Jensen declared. "And we'll follow that up with a visit to the General Store."

This pronouncement was greeted by three voices raised in a deafening cheer.

It was very heartening.

Maybe Jensen could do this after all.




Jensen stopped dead in his tracks when he set foot in the General Store. The children bumped into him, one by one, and Robbie looked up at him, confused.

"Mr. Jensen?"

Jensen blinked, letting his eyes adjust to both the dim interior of the store and the sight of the seriously tall man standing behind the counter, biting his lip over some figures, pencil scratching across the paper.

The man looked up at their entrance, and he smiled in amusement when Abigail pushed Robbie out of the way and darted into the store past Jensen's legs.

Damn. There were dimples out in full force.

Jensen was a sucker for dimples.

"Can I help you?" The man's smile was warm and friendly, and Jensen felt it deep down in his belly.

"I -" Jensen said helplessly. He didn't even know where to start. "We're going to need some supplies."

It only took two days to have the house looking downright inhabitable, thanks to Jared.

Jared Padalecki, that was the fellow with the dimples' name, and he owned the General Store. He'd taken pity on Jensen and had gone above and beyond the call of duty to help Jensen and the children fix the place up.

"We'll have this place in apple pie order before you know it," he'd said, smiling at Jensen. That was pretty much the moment Jensen was lost.

Now Rebecca looked around, seemingly impressed in spite of herself.

Two smaller beds, one for the girls and one for Robbie, were arranged on adjacent walls so that the head of each met in the corner, replacing the dusty bed that stood there before. It had been beyond salvaging and would make good kindling for the fireplace.

Jared made short work of chopping it into tinder with the brand new ax he'd sold to Jensen, placing the worn-out wood in the kindling box next to the stove.

Jensen had stared, mesmerized, at the play of muscles in Jared's back and shoulders as he swung the ax. He'd had to turn and go into the house before the heat in his belly crept up to his face and gave him away.

They'd cleared out the small storeroom and set up another bed in there, along with a small chest of drawers for Jensen's belongings. Fresh sheets and brand new coverlets adorned all three beds.

The tin sink and rusty pump had been cleaned and oiled until they shone. There were plates and cups on the shelves and a cast-iron stove, ready and waiting with pots and pans for someone - Jensen was really hoping it would be Rebecca, to cook a fine meal.

"Um, beans?" Jensen said, looking at the shelf stocked with various canned goods. He had no idea what to make.

Jared rolled his eyes. "There's fresh elk - Jim and Rufus shot a big one the other day, enough for me to trade some tools Rufus's been wanting for a haunch." Jensen looked at him blankly. "For stew," Jared said, like he was talking to somebody real slow in the head.

"Oh," Jensen said, nodding intelligently.

Jared nodded at a big bin next to the sink. "And there's potatoes and onions and a handful of carrots," he added. He looked at Jensen in amusement. "Don't you even know what you purchased in my store today, Mr. Ackles?"

"Hush up," Jensen said, unable to resist smiling back. "I don't know anything about cooking."

"Ain't that as plain as the nose on your face," Jared said, eying Jensen in a way that Jensen found very disconcerting. "Tell you what, I'll make us up some supper, and maybe later you can pay me back with some of that fine whiskey I know you bought from Miss Sam over at the Bighorn."

His voice was warm and dark with something that made Jensen feel a sudden need for more air, and his smile held a promise of things Jensen hadn't even known he'd craved.

And then he was just Jared again, looking around until he spotted Rebecca. "Mr. Jensen bought cornmeal today, even if he didn't know it," he said, grinning. "Do you know how to make cornbread?"

Rebecca nodded, smiling up at Jared as if he were the most wonderful person she'd ever met. Jensen could certainly sympathize. Jared apparently had that affect on people. "I do know how, Mr. Jared."

"Then it's settled - Miss Rebecca and I will make supper," Jared said. "Jensen, you and Robbie go on out of here, make yourselves useful clearing a path to the outhouse back there."

Jensen made a face and wondered just when Jared had taken over control of things.

"You'll be glad you did, come the middle of the night. It gets mighty dark around here. Now go, supper will be ready directly."

"What should I do, Mr. Jared?" Abigail piped up. She'd been so quiet Jensen had almost forgotten she was there.

Jared put a finger on his chin and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm. How would you like to help me with the stew?"

Abigail's eyes widened. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Yes, really. Now, I think there's an apron or two in this pile of linens. We don't want to get your pretty dress dirty, do we?"

And right then was the moment Jensen began to fall in love.




"What the hell are you talking about?" Jensen really didn't think he needed any more complications in his life. It just didn't seem fair. First he'd been saddled with three orphans, who, however engaging they were, were not his, then a run-down shack masquerading as a house, and to top it off, an overgrown goof with floppy brown hair and hazel eyes who -

This train of thought wasn't going to get him anywhere. He made himself focus on the matter at hand.

"A gold mine? These children own a gold mine?" He tried not to boggle. He suspected he failed, if the twinkle in Sheriff Beaver's eye was anything to judge by.

"Yep. Their daddy left it to them when he died. That's why they landed here in the first place," Sheriff Beaver said. "It's the only thing they own. And that's why Curtis Fuller landed here, too," he added darkly. "He expected to take charge of them, and they'd just fork it over."

"What are they supposed to do with a gold mine? Wait, is there any gold in it?" Jensen was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the whole concept.

"Nope. Played out years ago. But that damn fool Fuller didn't know that until he got out here. Once he realized it'd come a cropper, he lost all interest in being an uncle." Beaver patted Jensen on the shoulder. "Lucky for him, you came along."

"Son of a bitch," Jensen said. He found himself looking around, waiting for Abigail to inform everyone within earshot that Jensen had said a bad word. He wondered idly how she knew all those cuss words to begin with, but then he quickly turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

There turned out to be not much that could be done with an abandoned gold mine. It wasn't as if it came with a house they could live in, which would have been right handy. No, it was just a useless piece of land marked with caves and tunnels, all of which were probably too dangerous for him and Jared to get near, let alone the children.

"By the way," Jensen said that night at supper. He passed the plate of biscuits to Jared, after making sure that Abigail got one first. He spread butter on it for her and then said, looking innocently around the table, "Did you children know that you own a gold mine?"

He didn't miss the guilty look Rebecca shot Robbie, or the way Abigail shrunk down in her seat just a bit.

Jared turned his head to gape at Jensen so quickly Jensen was afraid he'd wrenched his neck for sure. "A gold mine? What are you talking about?"

"Maybe Rebecca can tell us," Jensen said sweetly.

Robbie scowled at him. "It's not Rebecca's fault."

"Well, while I agree it's not Rebecca's fault that you own a gold mine -" and Jensen felt ridiculous just saying the words "- did any of you think to mention this to me? Think that maybe I might have been interested to know that you own a gold mine?" His voice had risen at the end of his words, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Abigail's lower lip begin to tremble.

"Jensen," Jared said softly. Jensen looked at Jared, and Jared shook his head with a slight frown. "Pull your horns in."

Jensen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He reached out and gently stroked a hand over Abigail's messy braids. He felt lower than crowbait when she gave a quiet little sniff.

"Hey," he said softly, tugging on a braid. She turned to him and gave him a tiny smile.

"So," Jared said, when the silence around the supper table had become more than awkward. "A gold mine?"

"I guess the jig is up, now that you know. Our daddy left it to us," Robbie said defensively.

"There's no more gold," Rebecca said quietly. "The mine's played out."

"It was the only thing he had to leave us, Mr. Jared," Abigail said sadly, turning her big eyes on Jared. Jensen felt a cowardly sense of relief that he wasn't the focus of that particular gaze. It would have undone him. "The only thing he had to his name when he -" she hiccupped and Jared swallowed.

"Do you know where it is?" Jensen asked, trying to lighten the mood.

The three children exchanged glances that Jensen couldn't decipher. Finally, Robbie nodded. "It's just over yonder about three miles," he said, pointing north. "Lots of rocks and scrub, is all."

"You are not to go there," Jensen said, doing his best to sound stern. "Abandoned mines are dangerous places."

Jared nodded his agreement with this decree. "There'll be a heap of trouble if you do," he warned.

Of course, that didn't stop the children from heading off on their own to explore it the very first time Jensen and Jared's backs were turned. They returned home covered in dust and dirt and dear god, was that blood?

"A cave-in? The mine caved in? While you were in it? It just - caved in?" Jared seemed to be having trouble wrapping his mind around what had happened.

"I thought I told you to stay out of that mine," Jensen scolded. The three of them looked completely unrepentant, even as Rebecca was wrapping a clean rag around Robbie's knee, and Abigail was picking brambles out of her hair.

Jared, who had turned a very unflattering shade of whitish-green when the children walked in and he saw the condition they were in, sank down onto one of the chairs gathered around the kitchen table. "Dammit," he said faintly. "You scared the hell out of us."

"You said a bad word," Abigail said gleefully. "Two of them."

"I don't care!" Jared yelled, and three pairs of blue eyes immediately filed with tears. No one had ever heard Jared yell before, including Jensen. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," Jared said. "But you could have been hurt - you were hurt. You could have been kil-"

"Jared," Jensen said calmly. "Hobble your lip and see if there's any of that ointment left from when Robbie skinned his elbow last week, please."

Jared just stared at him, then nodded jerkily and went to rummage through the things in the cupboard by the kitchen sink.

"But look what we found!" Robbie interrupted. "That's what we've been trying to show you."

"I don't know, Robbie," Rebecca said. "Maybe we should just -"

"No! I know it would be okay to show them! They won't kick up a row."

Jensen had no idea what they were talking about, and then Rebecca nodded reluctantly and pulled what looked like a big rock, wrapped in Abigail's filthy shawl, out from under her own shawl.

Slowly she unwrapped it, revealing a gold nugget the size of Jensen's fist. He stared. No, it was the size of Jared's fist.

"Holy moly," Jared breathed, his quest for the ointment forgotten. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Gold," Abigail nodded. "When the mine caved in -"

"Lalala, I can't hear you," Jared said, poking his fingers in his ears. "We're pretending that didn't happen."

"Okay, when the thing that didn't happen happened, when the rocks kind of moved around, we found this."




It was in all the papers.

Naturally, the children's uncle heard about it - it was big news all over the territory, and Fuller showed back up a week later.

"I didn't even know this town had a newspaper," Jensen said, aggrieved. "Why is a nugget front page news?"

"Because there isn't any other news," Jared said, shrugging.

The Red Gulch Weekly Reader must have had pretty impressive circulation, because the news of the nugget spread far and wide - or at least far enough to bring Fuller running.

He accosted Jensen and the children as they were crossing the street to the Bighorn Saloon. Alona had been teaching Rebecca to play the piano and sing when she wasn't working, and they had a lesson this morning.

Danneel was going to take Robbie out back for some target practice with her prized Winchester rifle.

And Genevieve was helping Abigail with some stitchery.

Jensen was fully aware that when he picked them up at noontime, Robbie would be singing with Alona, Rebecca would be working on a new embroidery piece with Gen, and Abigail would be out back with Danneel, learning to shoot a rifle.

And Jared would throw back his head and laugh happily when they told him all about it at suppertime.

It struck Jensen then how much he loved his life. In fact, he was pretty much rendered speechless at the realization that what had seemed like a huge burden such a short time ago had become something he valued beyond anything.

Certainly beyond a great lump of gold.

And no man, not even Curtis Fuller, was going to take that away from him.

Fuller was a tall man with silver hair, what he no doubt thought was a winning smile, and the coldest eyes Jensen had ever seen.

"Ah, Ackles," he said, smiling broadly, holding out his hand in greeting. "I do so want to thank for looking out for my darling nieces and my dear nephew. I do hope they weren't too much trouble."

Jensen didn't shake his hand, just stood and looked at him, and he watched as the man's eyes narrowed in annoyance at being snubbed in such a way.

Good, Jensen thought, grimly pleased to have gotten under his skin so easily.

The darling nieces and dear nephew scowled at hearing themselves thus described. Jensen applauded Robbie's effort to land a surreptitious kick to Fuller's shin even as he placed a restraining hand on his thin shoulder and shook his head warningly. This was going to require delicate handling.

It was probably best Jared was busy at the General Store.

"They were no trouble at all," Jensen said smoothly, falling into step beside Fuller and walking down the street, discreetly guiding him in the direction of the jailhouse. "I was happy to take them off your hands and would be well-pleased to continue to do so."

"No, no, my good man, I wouldn't dream of imposing on your generous nature any longer," Fuller said unctuously. "I'll be taking them off your hands as soon as I've arranged passage for them on the stage."

Rebecca gasped, and Jensen felt Abigail's fingers tighten around his. Only Jensen's other hand on Robbie's shoulder kept him from stopping to challenge his uncle in the middle of the sidewalk.

Seeing as Red Gulch was such a small town, they arrived at the jailhouse in no time at all. Jensen gestured for Fuller to enter first, and Fuller looked up in surprise at the sign over the doorway, apparently having been too busy being charmingly threatening to have realized where they were heading.

Sheriff Beaver looked up from his desk and frowned when they all crowded into his rather undersized anteroom. Deputy Turner turned from the coffee pot on the stove with an identical frown on his face.

"Gentlemen," Beaver said. He tipped his hat to Rebecca and Abigail. "Ladies." Abigail giggled.

"Jim," Jensen started, but Fuller interrupted him.

"Hello, Sheriff Beaver," he said smarmily. "It's good to see you again. I believe I left something here the last time I was in town, and I've come to collect it." He sent a cursory glance the children's way." Er, them."

"Best I can recollect," the Sheriff drawled, "Paperwork was in order for the children to stay with Mr. Ackles here." He jerked a chin in Jensen's direction. "You passed the buck all legal and proper-like."

Jensen nodded.

Fuller waved a hand. "Legalities can be gotten around. Besides," he said, looking at Jensen with thinly veiled contempt, "I wouldn't think a city-slicker like Mr. Ackles would be interested in playing nursemaid to a handful of ungrateful whelps."

That was it, Jensen saw red. But before he could launch his fist at Fuller's smug face, the door burst open, and the crowded room was made even more crowded by the addition of over six feet of angry General Store owner.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jared growled, fiercely enough that Fuller took a step backwards.

"Easy tiger, I got this one," Beaver said.

"You damn well better," Jensen said.

"Yes sir, you'd better," Jared echoed, fists clenched at his sides.

"The children will remain in the custody of Mr. Ackles, period," Jim pronounced with all the authority of his office. "I'm the judge around these parts, and what I say goes. You skeedaddled on out of here, and if it weren't for that nugget, we'd 'a never seen your face 'round these parts again. Mr. Ackles's been taking excellent care of these children, and that's good enough for me." The sheriff produced a wooden gavel from somewhere and banged it on his desk, making them all jump.

Fuller's face was red, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "We'll just see about that," he snarled, turning on his heel and marching out of the jailhouse.

Jensen and Jared exchanged long looks over the children's heads. Jared was obviously furious, and while Jensen was too, it would do no good to further upset the children. Jensen sent a small smile Jared's way and after a moment, Jared's shoulders relaxed.

"Well, I think we'd better get along to the Bighorn," Jensen said. "The ladies must be wondering why you're all so late. I shouldn't wonder if Miss Danneel hasn't used up all her bullets already, waiting for you."

Jared scrubbed a hand over his face and gave the children a shaky smile. "I could hear Miss Alona already singing when I passed by on my way here," he agreed.

Jensen looked over his shoulder at Beaver as he herded his family out the door. "Fix this," he said.

Jim nodded. "I will."

"Mr. Jared, you and Mr. Jensen each said a bad word," Abigail was saying when Jensen shut the door to the jailhouse behind him.

"No, did we?" Jared asked, sounding appalled. "How naughty of us." He grinned at Jensen.

"Mr. Jensen," Robbie said. "Can Uncle Curtis really -"

"No!" Jensen and Jared said in unison. "He can't."




Three pairs of angelic blue eyes stared up at Jensen. He didn't think Rebecca's eyes could get any wider, and Abigail's were swimming with clear crystalline tears. Robbie blinked manfully, trying to disguise a sniff with a cough.

It was one of the most impressive performances Jensen had ever seen. He bit his lip to hide a smile.

Jared, however, was completely swayed by the waterworks and wide gazes. He turned to Jensen, looking wide-eyed himself.

"Jensen? Maybe we could -"

"No way in hell, Jared. It'll never happen," Jensen said gruffly. He saw Rebecca's eyes narrow for an instant before she recovered and gave Jared a wobbly smile.

"You said a bad word," Abigail interjected, and Robbie elbowed her surreptitiously. She elbowed him right back, and a fight began to look imminent.

"Oh, but Mr. Jared, we're desperate," Rebecca said breathlessly, working hard to keep Jared and Jensen's attention on herself and not her unruly siblings. Jensen had to hand it to her; she was a damn fine actress for a twelve year old. "It's the only reason Uncle Curtis wants us back. If someone stole the nugget, then we wouldn't be rich anymore and we could stay with you." She brought out the big guns and let a tear or two escape and slowly trickle down her cheek. "Don't you want us to stay with you, Mr. Jared?"

Jared looked like he'd been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four.

"Uncle Curtis isn't nice to us like you are, Mr. Jensen," said Abigail, forgetting about cuss words, suddenly remembering to play her part. Her lower lip crept out, and she sniffed sadly.

"Jensen -" Jared sounded like he was being strangled.

"What if he doesn't remember to feed us? We'll starve to death, Mr. Jared!" Robbie said.

"Jensen!"

"Oh, for - no one is going to starve to death, all right?" Jensen snapped. "Sheriff Beaver isn't going to let Fuller have them."

"Does that mean you'll help us, Mr. Jensen?" Rebecca asked, smiling shyly up at Jared. Jensen watched him practically melt where he stood.

This was getting out of hand.

"Absolutely not," Jensen said, trying to ignore Jared when he turned those sad, pleading eyes on Jensen. "No one -" and he pointed at Jared "- and I mean no one is going to break into the bank and steal that nugget. That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard."

There had been some preliminary legal maneuverings on the part of Fuller's lawyer, some fellow with an office in Reno. That was a bit too close for Jensen's comfort, but he didn't know what to do about it except put his faith in Sheriff Beaver and hope for the best.

Jared was in favor of finding Fuller and trying to scare him into forgetting the whole thing.

"He wouldn't even want them if it wasn't for the gold," Jared said indignantly. "That damn nugget is causing all sorts of problems."

It was true. A few of the women in town had even hinted that they'd be happy to take the kids off Jensen's hands, which was rich, considering he'd been completely on his own when he'd first acquired them in that damned poker game.

He'd caught the amused glances the townsfolk had thrown his way, waiting for him to admit defeat and no doubt slink away in the middle of the night, but he'd shown them all. He'd stuck it out, with Jared's help, and no power on earth could make him leave those children now.

"But if we steal the nugget and hide it, they'll think a real outlaw took it," Robbie said, apparently thinking that if he just explained the plan to Jensen enough times, Jensen would agree to go along with it. "And then we'll be poor again, and Uncle Curtis won't want us anymore."

"And we can stay with you and Mr. Jared forever," finished Abigail brightly.

Jensen realized that Rebecca was watching him, her eyes uncertain. He smiled at her reassuringly. "You're staying with us no matter what," he assured her, and her face cleared.

"So it's settled, then," Jared said. "Now we just need to figure out how and when to do it."

"Nothing is settled!" Jensen protested, but he could see that he was fighting a losing battle, especially when he was once again treated to that sad, pleading look on Jared's face, the one he was trying so hard to ignore.




It turned out that Jensen was incapable of ignoring Jared, especially that sad, pleading look, and again he wondered when his life had gotten so completely away from him.

That was how he found himself planning a bank heist with the help of three delinquent orphans and one overgrown man-child.

Jared's enthusiasm for robbing the bank was unnerving, to say the least. It brought out a side of him Jensen was uneasily shocked to find out existed.

"No, here, we can put the dynamite at the door and the windows both," Jared said, with what Jensen thought was unwonted enthusiasm. "See?" He pointed to a spot on a floor plan of the bank. Jensen didn't need to ask where he'd gotten it - Rebecca had obviously drawn it.

Abigail thought very highly of the plan. "Oh, yes, Mr. Jared, that's a swell idea. And maybe we could even put some over by the vault."

"Now there's an idea," Jensen muttered to himself. Dynamite where the actual thing they were trying to steal was located. Could they be any more inept at this robbery business?

On the other hand, that was probably a good thing. It wasn't something they were going to make a habit of.

Oh, God, he certainly hoped they weren't.

"The vault! That might work!" Jensen looked over at Jared suspiciously, but he seemed sincere enough. Not a hint of the sarcasm that surely should have been there. It was only when he shot a wink in Jensen's direction that Jensen realized he was playing with the children, leading them to think they were actually going to attempt to steal the nugget, when in fact, he knew Jensen had no such intention.

Jensen felt weak with relief and just a bit guilty for thinking Jared was actually crazy enough to go through with this.

"Yes, certainly," Jensen said, deciding to play along for now. "We'll even put two sticks by the vault instead of one."

Abigail nodded thoughtfully. She was watching him closely, and Jensen had the uncomfortable feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"We can do it tonight," Abigail said. It felt very much like a challenge.

"We don't actually have any dynamite," Jensen pointed out. That was what he was counting on to nip this whole thing in the bud.

"Well, then, we'll just have to find some, won't we?" Jared said. Jensen glared at him. That wasn't a helpful thing to say at all.

Robbie looked up at Jared with the kind of faith that said he thought Jared could do anything, including make the sun come up in the middle of the night. Jensen didn't think he was wrong, but he felt it better to put those thoughts aside for later.

"Maybe there's still some in the old mine," Rebecca said, with the air of one who had just discovered the answer to all of life's questions. Leave it to her to come up with the one place where they would no doubt find dynamite. Jensen foresaw that he was going to have his hands full with this particular young lady as she approached womanhood. He had a sudden terrifying vision of young men flocking from all over the territory just to court her, and he had to swallow hard to shake it off.

"There's no way any one of us is going back into that mine," Jensen said, his tone brooking no arguments. Robby looked mutinous for a moment, then his expression turned calculating.

"I could do it," he said eagerly. "I could fit into one of the shafts real easy."

"No."

"And I could watch and listen for any more cave-ins," Rebecca said. As if that was going to make Jensen agree to this. Even Jared blanched at that.

"And I could -"

But Jensen had no desire to hear what Abigail thought her part in this should be. He drew himself up to his full height and pronounced, very sternly, "I said no."

And then he turned deaf ears to any further arguments. He was roundly abused by them all for being so faint-hearted, but he stood firm.

It came as no surprise to him, however, on the next day, when he stupidly thought that the children were happily ensconced at the Bighorn for their daily singing and shooting lessons, and that Jared was busy selling his wares in his General Store, that they were all actually clambering around the depths of the old mine, foraging for dynamite.

And once they had the dynamite, there was no way he was letting the children help rig the bank, and Jared certainly couldn't do it alone, so once again he found himself participating in something he'd sworn he wouldn't.

It was the work of a minute to pick the lock on the bank's door. The look Jared sent his way was both impressed and inquiring.

"Mysterious secret past?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in amused curiosity.

"I'll never tell," Jensen answered distractedly, looking quickly around, getting the lay of the place. "There," he said, pointing to the far wall. "There's the vault."

He made his way over, while Jared hung back by the door, watching Jensen with a strange expression on his face. Now it was Jensen's turn to raise his eyebrows. "You know we don't actually need to blow up the door and the window, right?"

Jared laughed and came out of his momentary trance. "No, I know," he said. He reached Jensen and handed him the two sticks of dynamite they'd found in the mine. "Do you know how to do this?" He seemed very interested in the answer.

"It's not that hard," Jensen said. "You stick it where you want it, you light the fuse, and then you run like hell."

"I suppose," Jared said doubtfully.

"Jared, just because I know how to light dynamite doesn't mean I'm secretly a bank robber," Jensen said.

"No, I know," Jared said, smiling at him. "Let's do this."

Jensen wedged the two sticks of dynamite in a crevice on the floor by the vault, made Jared go over by the door, lit the fuse - Jared was less than impressed that it took him three tries, and seemed to lose some of his wariness - and then they both ran like hell.

The explosion was enormous. It didn't just blow the door off the bank vault, no, it blew the door off the actual bank.

"All right, so you're not exactly the smooth criminal I was beginning to suspect you were," Jared gasped as he grabbed Jensen by the hand and hauled him to his feet.

Jensen brushed dirt and pieces of the bank off his waistcoat, and then pushed Jared around the corner of the General Store, which was next to the bank. "That dynamite was old - it must have been more unstable than I thought," he panted. He stopped then, and picked something off the front of Jared's jacket. Jared was covered in debris, but this was something else.

"Look," he said, holding a small gold nugget between his thumb and forefinger. He looked down at himself again and said, "There's more."

There were flecks of gold scattered on Jensen's front and all across Jared's shoulders. Jared stared.

"Oh, my God," he breathed. "Jensen, I think we blew the nugget into a million pieces."

By that time, the noise from the explosion had woken up the entire town, so Jared and Jensen did a slow fade around the building and crept quietly back to Jensen's house.

The children were waiting eagerly for them, their faces shining in the light of the fire that crackled merrily in the fireplace. Rebecca had lit the oil lamp on the kitchen table, and Jensen basked in the warm glow as he entered his home.

His and Jared's home, he prayed. Their home together with the children.

"Well? We heard the explosion!" Robbie said eagerly.

"I would imagine they heard it halfway to California," Jensen said. "My ears are still ringing."

"Did you get it?" Abigail asked, her eyes bright.

"Are you all right?" Rebecca wanted to know, as she took in their disheveled appearance.

"We're fine," Jensen assured her. "But -"

"But we blew the nugget to smithereens!" Jared said in a rush. He brushed more gold dust off his shirt. "It's in about a million pieces."

"Woke the whole town up," Jensen added. "By this time, every man, woman and child in Red Gulch has got themselves a piece of gold for their very own."

Three pairs of blue eyes stared up at them, stunned. Then Rebecca smiled, wide and beautiful. Robbie whooped and started to dance around the room in his nightshirt. Abigail threw herself at Jared's legs, hugging his knees.

Jared and Jensen looked at each other, and Jared shrugged.

"I guess it's okay with them."




After the children had calmed down, which took some doing, and been tucked into bed, Jensen poked around in the cupboard over the sink and pulled out the whiskey bottle he kept hidden there. He obviously needed to find a better hiding place soon - a mere cupboard was no match for such enterprising children.

He nodded to Jared and jerked his chin toward the back room. Moving through it and out onto the stoop, he didn't even look behind him to see if Jared followed - he knew he was close on his heels.

Settling down on the bench that set alongside the house, Jensen stretched his legs out in front of him and waited for Jared to take a seat next to him.

The whiskey went down smooth, warming him, although the heat coming from Jared, where their arms and legs brushed close, was better than any warmth that liquor or firelight could provide.

Jensen passed the bottle to Jared. Jared took a swig then rested his head back against the wall of the house and stared up at the starlit sky.

"It's not just me, is it?" Jensen finally said. Of all the ways there were to start this conversation, this was the one that made the most sense. Find out straight off if he was just whistling in the wind, or if he and Jared were on the same page with this thing between them.

Jared took a moment to answer, and for that brief instant, Jensen's heart pretty near refused to beat.

"No," Jared said finally, his voice quiet. "It's not just you.

Jensen nodded. "What are we gonna do about it?" It would be thought of as strange, two men living together as more than friends, raising three children together.

"My life before you and those brats came along didn't hold a candle to what it is now," Jared said, still making a study of the stars. "I don't see as how any of the folks around here are gonna kick up a row about this." He shrugged. "None of them have so far," he pointed out. Then he chuckled. "And especially not after we were so generous as to share that damned nugget with the whole town."

Jared carefully set the bottle of whiskey on the ground at his feet and at long last turned to look at Jensen. "I want this, the whole kit and caboodle. Do you?"

Jensen took a deep breath and looked into Jared's eyes. What he saw there reassured him as nothing else could. He nodded. "The whole kit and caboodle," he agreed.

They grinned at each other like the biggest fools on earth.

"C'mere," Jared said, wrapping his hand around Jensen's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Jensen met him halfway, and the feeling he'd had earlier of being truly home was multiplied tenfold.

The moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the curve of Jared's smile. He was beautiful.

"What do you say we move this shindig inside?" Jared said. "Think we can be quiet enough not to wake the young'uns?"

"We're gonna have to get good at it, so we might as well get started with learning how," Jensen said.

Jensen's bed wasn't made for two full-sized men, one of whom was taller than average, but it didn't seem very important at the moment. Maybe someday down the road they could get a bigger bed, Jensen thought idly as Jared unfastened his pants and pulled them down his thighs. Jensen lifted his hips helpfully, and then grabbed Jared by the front of his shirt and pulled him down for another kiss.

Things were about as awkward as one might expect, seeing as how neither one of them was an expert at this sort of thing, but Jensen thought he'd never experienced anything quite like it.

Jared's hands were big and gentle, and his mouth laughed even as it left a trail of pleasure across Jensen's shoulders and along the sensitive skin over his ribs.

Jensen rolled them until he was on top, taking care not to roll them directly onto the floor. He pushed Jared's shirt up his body, until it rucked under his arms, exposing his chest. Skin and muscles gleamed in the moonlight, and Jensen took his time exploring them with his lips and fingers.

Jared's breath was harsh as he got a hand between them, pushing his own clothing down and out of the way, until their cocks were touching, rubbing next to each other with the sweetest friction imaginable. Jensen swore and rutted against Jared, and he couldn't imagine that anything in the world could possibly feel better than this.

Jared groaned, his hips stuttering, and there was a sudden wet heat between them. Jensen gasped and felt his own release, moving from the base of his spine through his entire body, leaving him without breath in his lungs or a thought in his head beyond, I want this right here for the rest of my life.




"Mr. Jared?" Abigail said a few weeks later, craning her neck to meet Jared's eyes. "Are you and Mr. Jensen going to get married? I saw you kissing last night after we went to bed, and when people kiss each other, they usually get married." It wasn't clear if she was worried about the impropriety of unmarried people kissing or about having a home with the people she loved.

Jensen knew that his face was the color of ripe tomatoes, but to his surprise, Jared didn't seem embarrassed in the least.

"No, Miss Abigail, we are not." His eyes darkened as he looked at Jensen. "Not that I don't want to. I'd marry you in a heartbeat if it was proper, you know that," he said, directing his remarks to Jensen.

Jensen blushed ever harder. "I know you would, Jay." He cleared his throat as Jared smiled at him, a smile both pleased and predatory. It made him shiver. "Hey, kids, I have an idea," he said, not sure if he was trying to distract the children or himself.

"What is it, Mr. Jensen?" Rebecca asked.

"I think it's time we decide on something else for you to call us. Now that all of us are going to be living together for good, Mr. Jared and Mr. Jensen seems like quite a mouthful."

Jared choked, turning his back on them. Jensen watched his shoulders shake with laughter, and then his own words caught up to his brain.

"Oh, damn," he said.

"Mr. Jensen, you said -"

"Yes, Abigail, I know I did. How about you call me just Jensen, and you can call Jared here plain old Jared."

"Just Jensen and Plain Old Jared. I like that," said Robbie, a mischievous smile on his face.

Jared turned back around and ruffled Robbie's hair. "Hardy har, very funny," he said. He looked over at Jensen and smiled. "I think that's a good idea."

Rebecca and Robbie nodded in agreement, but when Jensen looked at Abigail, he thought she looked a little sad.

"What's up, apple dumplin'?" he asked, bending down to her level so he could look at her eye to eye.

She didn't look at him, though. She was studying her shoes very carefully when she whispered, "I wish you were my papa. You and Mr. Jared, both."

A lump made a sudden appearance in Jensen's throat, and he swallowed around it with difficulty. Jared frowned at him.

"What?" he asked.

"She -" Jensen started, but his voice seemed to be stuck.

"Can't you be our papas?" Abigail said, fixing Jared with a gaze that Jensen could see immediately melted him into a big puddle of goo.

Rebecca looked thoughtful, and Robbie looked surprised.

"Yeah," Robbie said excitedly. He grinned. "How about it, Plain Old Jared? We could call you 'Paw' and Jensen could be 'Pa.'"

Abigail giggled.

"If we call you Papa, does that mean you'll always stay?" Rebecca asked. Jensen blinked, and Jared smiled softly.

"We'll always stay. It doesn't matter you call us," Jensen promised.

Jared frowned and shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling. "I don't know. If anybody calls me 'Stinky,' I might have to hightail it on out of here."

Abigail giggled again, and Rebecca laughed. "That's silly, Paw."

"Now that's settled, come on, let's get a wiggle on," Jensen said. "We have work to do. This house isn't going to grow an extra bedroom all by itself, you know."