In Times of Trial [1/1]
Betcha you didn't see this one coming. >)
Title: In Times of Trial
Rating: PG-13 for (implied) violence and sexual content
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, OCs
Pairings: All implied: JDM/JP, JDM/JA, JA/DH, pre-JA/JP
Word Count: ~4,668
Disclaimer: All actors mentioned therein (there's a bunch) own themselves.
Warnings: Second part of my Werewolf!AU. Sexual, violent and obsessive behavior, both implied and actually happening.
Summary: ly·can·thro·py [noun]: The ability of a person to assume the characteristics of a wolf.
***
In Times of Trial
Taken from butterfreid.tumblr.com/post/212567470/fuckyeahmeninsuits.
***
It was hot enough that Jensen started to sweat in his three-piece suit the moment he climbed out of the cab. His office was nice and cool, chilled to a level that allowed everyone to look absolutely pristine and professional even in the midst of New York summer. Outside of the glass-and-chrome tower he usually inhabited, however, sweat seemed to drip from every rooftop, run down the sheer façade of every high-rise, gather in the little cracks in the sidewalks.
He handed the cab driver two crisp new $20 bills and waved him off into mid-day traffic before he turned to face the entrance of Jeff’s hotel, wishing fervently that he were somewhere else. He liked New York City most of the time. Sometimes he even loved it, the hustle, the hurry, the sheer scope of it, well-tailored suits and ragged bums living side by side. Summer was not one of those times. He didn’t like heat, never had. He’d grown up in temperate regions where the summers where lukewarm and rain barely turned to slush in the winter, and he’d never really gotten the hang of weather. Jeff loved the fact that he could defy it, and Danneel enjoyed its reminder that the world would keep on turning with or without them, but Jensen just wasn’t a fan. He liked being comfortable. He liked feeling air in his face that didn’t seem to come straight from a furnace or the refrigerator.
The artificially cooled air that greeted him in the lobby was a welcome reprieve. He breezed past a uniformed older man who gestured him towards the reception desk with a pleasantly neutral smile and headed straight for the elevators at the far end of the hall. Besides the tasteful furniture and exotic plants, the entire hotel was decorated with the Sunset Industries logo. Big signs welcomed the company’s representatives to New York City and wished that they have a pleasant stay. It didn’t seem to have done much good, considering that Jeff had called him in the middle of a fairly important meeting to come take a crabby and bored Brother off his hands.
Elevator number 4 was waiting when he got there, the bellboy, neatly done up in his red-and-black suit with shiny golden buttons, almost lounging against the wall. He straightened when he caught sight of Jensen and scurried over to his spot at the controls. “Where to, sir?” he asked, head turned towards Jensen but eyes respectfully lowered.
Jensen stepped inside, looked up at the long string of lights above the door and sighed. “The top,” he said.
The bellboy bit his lip, no doubt picking up on the tension Jensen was fairly radiating, and touched the button marked ‘Sun Deck’ with a gloved fingertip.
The elevator doors slid shut with a sleek whirr. Jensen stared at the gently blinking lights and tried not to curse Jeff, Jared, or any combination thereof. He had better things to do than babysit Jared, no matter what Jeff thought, and a -small- part of him resented Jeff for the way he could still make Jensen drop everything and come running, never mind that he had been entirely independent for several decades. Why had Jeff even brought Jared? Jensen understood that it was hard for Jeff to leave the kid to his own devices, but if Jeff wasn’t going to have time to keep Jared busy, dragging him along would only mean that he was now unsupervised in a foreign, restricted environment instead of at home where he could at least entertain himself.
The doors slid open while he was still frowning to himself. Immediately, the temperature inside the small room seemed to climb a good thirty degrees or so. He could see the water of the pool glistening in the sunlight, but it seemed like a sad mockery of vacation rather than an actual place to relax and recoup.
Smiling uncertainly, the bellboy nodded towards the door. “The sun deck, sir,” he said.
Jensen smoothed down his blazer in a calming gesture and sighed once again. “Thank you,” he said.
“I hope you enjoy your stay with us, sir,” the bellboy added hesitantly.
Jensen doubted it, but he stepped outside and nodded anyway, waiting until the chrome doors had slid closed once more.
The sun deck was just as artfully designed as the lobby had been. Beyond the infinity pool loomed the Manhattan skyline, a row of pristine lounge chairs were set up next to the water, and a gleaming bar invited all guests to drown their free time in alcohol. Of course, from what Jensen could see, Jared was the only guest on the deck. Not that that was much of a surprise. Everyone who could afford a place like this was either busy or had better places to be than New York City in July, like Bali or the Hamptons. But Jared was stuck here, sprawled out on a tasteful cream-and-wood chaise lounge by the pool, in Armani swim shorts of course, white short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned, with a magazine and his iPod to keep him entertained. One headphone plug was in his ear, the other one rested on his bare chest, glistening with a film of sweat and suntan lotion. While Jensen watched, Jared shifted his legs, then yawned in a haughty, attractive sort of way, and slumped back into the cushions.
He looked bored out of his mind.
Jensen couldn’t help feeling bad for him. Jared was an adrenaline freak all the way. Jeff had taken him to O’ahu for Christmas, or rather, to a business conference with a few vacation days tacked on at the end, and the first thing the kid had done was throw himself out of a plane with a flimsy piece of fabric strapped to his back. Since Jensen had known him, he’d gone shark cage diving in South Africa, Bungee jumping in Macau, street luging in Australia - all in the span of less than a year. He had to be climbing the walls here, where he wasn’t allowed to even clear away his own dishes.
Jensen didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that that way lay trouble. Jared was just one of those people who, when bored, created their own entertainment. And since there was no one here besides the pasty-faced waiter and the bored barkeeper engrossed in the porn mag he’d stuck between the pages of a back issue of GQ, it was the waiter who was currently suffering.
He was barely more than a child, younger than Jared, and still green enough that the sight of topless trophy wives sunning themselves far above the roar of Manhattan probably sent him into a stuttering frenzy. He wasn’t even a looker, let alone Jared’s usual tall, dark and handsome type - a pale redhead with freckles scattered over his nose and cheekbones. He looked highly uncomfortable in his stiff uniform, like he would do anything to be anywhere else. Jensen wasn’t sure how he’d gotten hired at a place like this in the first place. They usually required competence, along with a fairly high level of attractiveness for their visible staff, so at least no one could accuse Jared of being shallow. Cruel, though, that was another matter entirely. He was playing with the boy the way a feral cat would a frightened and somewhat slow field mouse. He teased and toyed, poked and prodded, pretended to look and then pretended he hadn’t. He was so engrossed in his little game that he never even noticed Jensen standing over by the bar, all too focused on the waiter who helplessly clenched his hands around his tray and squeezed his eyes shut.
Jensen fished his Ray Bans out of his chest pocket and pushed them onto his nose, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure how the waiter managed to navigate over to Jared’s chair without tripping or spilling the frilly drink on his tray, but he did, offering it to Jensen’s brother with an awkward little bow. Jared took a small sip, smiled brilliantly, and set it on the ground next to him. Jensen couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was made the waiter blush dark red and beat a graceless retreat. Jared returned to his magazine as if the exchange hadn’t even happened, didn’t bother to watch the boy go.
Jensen shook his head once more. When the waiter was close enough to hear him past the blood that was probably roaring in his ears, he raised his voice a little and said, “Excuse me.”
The boy whirled around. He seemed startled to see Jensen, then clutched his tray in fright when Jensen beckoned him over with two fingers. “Can I, can I get you anything, sir?” he stuttered.
Jensen felt bad for him. He probably thought it was just some harmless, hopeless celebrity crush he was harboring. How was he supposed to know the can of worms he was about to open?
“A glass of water would be great, actually. Slice of lemon?”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter said, bobbing his head dutifully. He hurried off to bar, where the barkeeper closed his magazine with a sigh and slipped off his stool to collect a spotless glass from the shelf. Jensen didn’t bother to watch him make it. Instead, he pretended to be entranced by Jared’s long legs, like he’d never seen before how Jared could flirt with just his body.
The waiter - Robert, his name tag said - approached him carefully, concentrating far too much on the tray balanced on the palm of his hand. “Here’s your water, sir,” he said. “Slice of lemon.”
“Thank you ever so much,” Jensen said.
Robert nodded but apparently couldn’t resist sneaking a look back at the pool, so Jensen pasted a conspiring smile on his face. “Hot, huh?” he said.
Robert blinked at him with a distinct deer-in-the-headlights look.
Jensen gestured in Jared’s general direction. “You know. Him.”
The wide-eyed look disappeared, only to be replaced by a scarlet flush. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Sure you don’t.” Jensen added a condescending little chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t put you on the spot. I just wasn’t expecting to find something out of a Vogue photo shoot here.” Jensen smiled nonchalantly. “Although I guess you’d have to be, to shack up with Jeff Morgan.”
The dreamy expression instantly melted from the waiter’s face, only to be replaced by wide-eyed horror. “What?” he breathed.
Jensen waved a dismissive hand. “Jeff Morgan,” he repeated. “You’ve probably never heard of him. He’s big in the broadcasting business.” He took the glass from Robert’s tray and raised it into the air in salute. “I think he’s here for the conference.”
“He’s with Jeff Morgan?” Robert squeaked. Jensen had no doubt he’d had both name and face drilled into him relentlessly by his superiors. Jeff was not someone anyone wanted to offend, but definitely no one whose professional reputation was on the line. The hotel management would have taken every precaution to prevent a faux-pas.
Jensen nodded cheerfully. “Oh yes,” he said. “They’ve been all over the papers. It’s a shame. I’d probably be tempted to have a go myself, otherwise.”
He watched the boy turn slightly green and tried not to feel like too much of an asshole. It was for his own good, really. Nothing positive ever came of someone eyeing Jeff’s possessions, no matter how hot they were. And Jared was hot. He had big soulful eyes and the devil’s smile, and now that Jeff had gotten him out of the Rainbow flip flops and into some Versace, he looked like he just stepped off the cover page of Forbes Magazine. His snow white collar made his tan even more pronounced, his eyes just a shade darker, a honey-colored poster boy for the rich and infamous. Jensen couldn’t blame the waiter for hoping, dangerous as it was.
But he also refused to feel bad for scaring him. No matter how much Jared might try to buck Jeff’s control, his era of free, careless choices and casual recklessness was over. Because Jared sold his soul to Jeff the moment he accepted his proposal. Jeff might as well have tattooed his name all over Jared’s body, because there was no way Jared was getting away from him now. He just had to realize it.
Jensen set the still mostly-full glass back on the waiter’s tray and smiled. “But enough chitchat. I’ve kept you long enough.”
“Not at all, sir,” Robert said, still a little pale, still a little shell-shocked. He looked like he might throw up any minute, and Jensen conjured up a concerned expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked. He let his hand rest on the boy’s shoulder, watched his eyes dart to Jensen’s fingers and back to his face like a frightened rabbit. “You’re not looking too good. Maybe you should go downstairs and tell them that you’re going home for the day.”
The boy nodded, looking dazed, and Jensen sent him on his way with a light push towards the elevators. “Go on,” he said with an encouraging smile. The expression vanished the moment Robert disappeared behind a door marked ‘Employees Only,’ and he let himself scowl for a moment.
Now for the hard part.
Jensen turned to face the neatly arranged rows of tasteful lounge chairs and swallowed. For a moment, he considered calling Daneel. She was Jensen’s best friend as well as their Sister, and somehow she just had a way with Jared. With a few quiet words and a sugar-sweet smile, she could have him curled up in her lap and purring like an overgrown kitten. But no, she was in Beijing for a medical convention, and even if he somehow managed to get her on the phone, she would tear his head off for interrupting her few hours of sleep.
No, Jensen was on his own here. He sauntered along the pool casually, not at all like he was a man on a mission, and managed to get close enough to read the sleepy boredom on Jared’s face, and the magazine in his hands, before Jared noticed him. It was The Economist. Either Jeff had decided that the kid needed to expand his horizons, or Jared was trying to impress the man. Knowing the two, either option was equally likely. Jensen couldn’t help wishing that they would put as much energy into communicating with each other as they did trying to be blasé and understated. Goodness knew all their lives would be a hell of a lot easier if they did.
“Morning, Jay,” he said.
Jared looked up, surprised at first, then a delighted smile spread across his face. “Jensen!” he said. He shifted his feet, clearing part of the lounge chair in invitation. “What are you doing here?”
Jensen sat. He tilted his Ray Ban’s into his hair and ran one hand up Jared’s calf, then down again and around to the sole of his foot, smiling when Jared giggled and tried to twitch away. “Keeping you out of trouble, apparently,” he said.
Jared scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jensen,” he said. Judging by the tone, he might as well have been protesting an early bedtime.
Jensen ran the tip of his finger along the crease between foot and toes just to see the kid bite his lip in the effort not to smile. “Jeff seems to think so,” he said. Jeff had even said it outright, flat out told Jensen to cancel two meetings with potential clients so he could rush over and avert the coming disaster. So yes, Jared probably needed a babysitter.
Trouble was, the kid didn’t seem to think so. In an instant, the amusement hiding in the creases of his eyes had faded away, only to be replaced by little-boy hurt. “He sent you to keep an eye on me?” the kid pouted.
“He sent me to keep you entertained,” Jensen corrected.
Jared scowled. “I can entertain myself,” he said.
Jensen curled his hand around Jared’s ankle and gripped it tightly. He met the kid’s gaze. “Not with the waiter, you won’t.”
“What, Bobby?” Jared let his magazine drop onto his chest and craned his head around. Jensen followed his gaze back to the bar, but as expected, the waiter was nowhere in sight. Jared pursed his lips. “You scared him off,” he said, mildly accusing.
“I did you a favor,” Jensen replied.
Jared rolled his eyes and lifted the magazine in front of his face once more. “If that’s what you want to call it,” he muttered.
He made an indignant little noise when Jensen reached over, pulled the magazine from his grasp and dropped it on the tiles next to them. “You’d think Jeff would have taught you better manners,” he grumbled.
Jared rolled his eyes at him. “What Jeff doesn’t know, won’t hurt me,” he said.
It was Jensen’s turn to roll his eyes. He reached over and tugged the speaker out of Jared’s ear without even acknowledging the kid’s protesting squawk. “Jeff will know,” he said. “He’ll know. And trust me: You think you know what’ll happen when he finds out, that you know what he’s like when he’s angry, but you really, really don’t.”
“Sheesh,” Jared said. He rubbed along the shell of his ear. “The way you’re going on, you’d think Jeff was about to drop my body in the Hudson.”
Which was unlikely, Jensen had to admit. Jeff was far more likely to flay the skin from Jared’s back and then keep him chained to his bed for a couple of years. He was far too attached to any of them to let them go like that. When it came to the waiter, on the other hand, Jensen wasn’t so sure.
Jared glared at him when Jensen didn’t respond. “Did you want something,” he asked, “or are you just here to lecture me?”
Jensen resisted the urge to smack him. Jared was upset, that was all it was. There was a perfectly acceptable explanation why he was acting like such a brat. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Tinny techno filtered out of Jared’s speakers, interrupting the silence, and Jensen pointed his finger at them. “Turn that thing off,” he told Jared, voice stern.
Jared pressed his lips into a thin line, half sheepish and half annoyed, and picked the machine up, thumb on the white circle. After a moment, the screen went black. It made no sense to Jensen, but then most technology didn’t. He’d finally learned how to use a cell phone a few years ago, but that was mostly just to make Jeff happy. He had never been as obsessive about keeping up with the times as his Father had, and he honestly didn’t see why he needed to know how to text people. Wasn’t that what emails were for? His secretary was in charge of those.
But with Jared, things like knowing how to turn off iPods would probably come in handy. Jensen would have to ask him how to do it at some point, one day when they weren’t on the verge of all-out fighting.
Jared raised his eyebrows at him, as if to say, ‘Happy now?,’ and Jensen leaned forward, right into his personal space.
“You can keep up your little games if you want,” he said. “No one’s stopping you. But trust me when I say that if you take this too far, Jeff will tear you apart.”
A flicker of uncertainty found its way into Jared’s eyes, but then his jaw set stubbornly and he shrugged. “I’ll live,” he said easily.
Jensen fought the urge to sigh, or do something stupid, like clock him. Jared was getting overconfident. It was bound to happen eventually - it had to all of his Siblings, including Jensen - but Jensen still ached for him. It was easy to underestimate Jeff. His sleepy eyes, his easy smile, the lazy twang in his voice.
Jared was going to get a harsh wake-up call in the near future.
But that wasn’t Jensen’s problem to deal with. “And the kid?” he asked, swallowing down his own anger. “The waiter? Did you think about what Jeff would do to him?”
From the startled look on Jared’s face, he honestly hadn’t. And had he or had he not spent the better part of a year at Jeff’s side? The man didn’t tolerate defiance from anyone, however unwittingly done. And Jeff was not the kind of Father who’d send you to your room to think about what you had done.
“Jeff doesn’t care what I do,” Jared mumbled after a moment.
Jensen couldn’t help the eyebrow climbing up his forehead. Jeff, not care what Jared was up to? Maybe he left his older Children to their own devices most days, but Jeff kept an eye on all of them, and three on Jared. Jensen was willing to bet Jeff hadn’t had a real conversation with Jared in several days, and yet he’d known instantly when Jared was about to get himself into serious trouble.
“He cares enough to call me when you’re bored,” Jensen pointed out.
Jared frowned, forehead creasing unhappily, and Jensen knew what he was thinking. Having Jensen around was all well and good, but it was Jeff Jared wanted. Jensen couldn’t compare. He couldn’t say he minded. It stung a little, sure, but only in the generic sense that Jared preferred someone else’s company to Jensen’s. None of Jensen’s siblings could ever hope to take Jeff’s place in his mind, so he couldn’t really expect any of them to feel differently. And he deferred to Jeff anyway, did his bidding, worshipped the ground Jeff walked on, he knew that, so he could appreciate the sentiment.
Daneel had called him a wuss once, a daddy’s boy, back when she was still a grimy little street rat who thought defiance was a way of life. Jensen had just smiled weakly in reply. He’d spent decades alone with Jeff, with no one to distract him from Jensen, and he’d learned the hard way when to wheedle and manipulate, and when to simply bow your head in submission. He knew what it was like to dread Jeff’s attention. He remembered the despair he’d felt when it was no longer on him. He’d gone through an entire myriad of emotions with the man, and he’d seen nine of his siblings go through the same realizations, whether he’d warned them beforehand or not. And now that Jared was doing the same, Jensen might stick around to pick up the pieces, but he refused to meddle. Best case scenario, it wouldn’t do any good at all. And in all the other cases…
Jeff was a scary, scary man. Jensen had known that from the moment he first laid eyes on him, a scruffy, malicious bear of a man, with a grin so cunning and a proposal so heinous that it made even someone as godless as Jensen cross himself in fear. He was an enigma that you had to figure out for yourself, and no matter how much Jensen warned and preached, no one ever learned unless they had their mistakes taken out of their hides.
Jared, no doubt picking up on Jensen’s strained mood, smiled a little helplessly. “Do you want a drink? It gets charged straight to Jeff’s credit card.”
Jensen blinked away the memory of the dark, damp prison cell. Of Jeff’s hand extended towards him, palm up, just waiting for him to sign his life away. “No, thank you,” he said.
“You sure?”
He wasn’t. In reality, Jensen wanted a drink very badly, preferably straight. He also wanted to go home to Danneel, and he wanted Jeff to not be too busy to fix this himself. But as it was, the second two weren’t about to happen and the first was a bad idea, so he shook his head. “How are you liking New York?” he asked instead, determinedly cheerful.
Jared’s answering smile was just as fake. “The hotel is very nice,” he said.
Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Have you been out to the city at all?”
Jared dropped his gaze. He reached over and picked at a loose thread in the lounge chair’s upholstery. “Jeff took me to dinner at La Fonda Del Sol on Sunday,” he said quietly. “But he had dinner meetings the last two days.”
Jensen let his hand rest on Jared’s bare, sun-warmed knee. “You haven’t seen Jeff since Sunday?” he asked, guessing correctly, if the look on Jared’s face was anything to go by.
“I was awake when he came back on Monday,” he muttered, growing quieter with every word. “But he was tired and wanted to go straight to sleep, and then he was gone when I woke up. And I haven’t seen him since.”
Jensen tried very hard not to sigh. Jeff just… It was no wonder Jared’s temper was slipping. He didn’t deal well with being on his own in the first place, always managing to get himself into some trouble or other, but this was Jeff. Jensen remembered all too well what the first couple of years on his own had been like. How he’d missed Jeff like breathing, how he’d wanted to drop everything and get on the next train just so he could see him and smell him and beg him for forgiveness and never leave again. And he’d had Jeff to himself for decades. He’d had time to grow quietly frustrated with the man’s ways, to feel confined, to grow to want independence. All Jared had had time to do was to get used to Jeff’s watchful eyes and his steady, constant presence. Being left on his own like this had to feel like rejection, and no one did rejection as well as Jeff. No wonder Jared was slowly going off the rails.
No wonder he looked like he might cry.
“Poor Jay,” Jensen said quietly. He leaned in, ran his hands over Jared’s abs and up to the side of his neck, to the bite marks that were just barely starting to scar. “All alone in the big city. No wonder you’re so crabby.” He kept his tone light, mocking, but didn’t give Jared a chance to respond.
“I’ll talk to Jeff, okay?” he said. He tightened his fingers, lightly massaged Jared’s stiff neck. “We’ll go to dinner tonight, just the three of us. No business, all pleasure. And then when I have to go back and catch up with my own work, maybe you and Jeff can do something fun. What do you think?” Jared ducked his head away, but Jensen just followed him so the kid was forced to meet his gaze. “Does that sound good?”
“It’s not going to happen,” Jared said quietly. Quietly, but he couldn’t deny the hopeful look in his eyes.
Jensen chucked him under the chin. He laughed when Jared scowled. “Don’t underestimate me,” he said.
Jared smiled a little, almost as if against his will. “If you can pull that off, I’ll tell everyone you’re my coolest big Brother.”
Jensen couldn’t help laughing at that. People called him a lot of things, but ‘cool’ usually wasn’t one of them. “Don’t let the others hear you say that,” he warned.
“And what are they gonna do, huh?” Jared asked. “Glare real hard?” He stretched lazily. “Jeff wouldn’t let them touch me.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Jensen agreed. “And neither would I.”
“Aww,” Jared chuckled, but when Jensen simply held his gaze, dead serious, a slight flush found its way across his cheeks. “I know,” he said quietly. He looked off to the side. “I know that.”
“Good.” Jensen smacked his thigh lightly. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Jared echoed even as he sat up obediently.
Jensen used the opportunity to press a quick kiss to the kid’s forehead, and smiled. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you New York City.”
***
Feedback is, as always, love. :)
Title: In Times of Trial
Rating: PG-13 for (implied) violence and sexual content
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, OCs
Pairings: All implied: JDM/JP, JDM/JA, JA/DH, pre-JA/JP
Word Count: ~4,668
Disclaimer: All actors mentioned therein (there's a bunch) own themselves.
Warnings: Second part of my Werewolf!AU. Sexual, violent and obsessive behavior, both implied and actually happening.
Summary: ly·can·thro·py [noun]: The ability of a person to assume the characteristics of a wolf.
***
In Times of Trial
Taken from butterfreid.tumblr.com/post/212567470/fuckyeahmeninsuits.
***
It was hot enough that Jensen started to sweat in his three-piece suit the moment he climbed out of the cab. His office was nice and cool, chilled to a level that allowed everyone to look absolutely pristine and professional even in the midst of New York summer. Outside of the glass-and-chrome tower he usually inhabited, however, sweat seemed to drip from every rooftop, run down the sheer façade of every high-rise, gather in the little cracks in the sidewalks.
He handed the cab driver two crisp new $20 bills and waved him off into mid-day traffic before he turned to face the entrance of Jeff’s hotel, wishing fervently that he were somewhere else. He liked New York City most of the time. Sometimes he even loved it, the hustle, the hurry, the sheer scope of it, well-tailored suits and ragged bums living side by side. Summer was not one of those times. He didn’t like heat, never had. He’d grown up in temperate regions where the summers where lukewarm and rain barely turned to slush in the winter, and he’d never really gotten the hang of weather. Jeff loved the fact that he could defy it, and Danneel enjoyed its reminder that the world would keep on turning with or without them, but Jensen just wasn’t a fan. He liked being comfortable. He liked feeling air in his face that didn’t seem to come straight from a furnace or the refrigerator.
The artificially cooled air that greeted him in the lobby was a welcome reprieve. He breezed past a uniformed older man who gestured him towards the reception desk with a pleasantly neutral smile and headed straight for the elevators at the far end of the hall. Besides the tasteful furniture and exotic plants, the entire hotel was decorated with the Sunset Industries logo. Big signs welcomed the company’s representatives to New York City and wished that they have a pleasant stay. It didn’t seem to have done much good, considering that Jeff had called him in the middle of a fairly important meeting to come take a crabby and bored Brother off his hands.
Elevator number 4 was waiting when he got there, the bellboy, neatly done up in his red-and-black suit with shiny golden buttons, almost lounging against the wall. He straightened when he caught sight of Jensen and scurried over to his spot at the controls. “Where to, sir?” he asked, head turned towards Jensen but eyes respectfully lowered.
Jensen stepped inside, looked up at the long string of lights above the door and sighed. “The top,” he said.
The bellboy bit his lip, no doubt picking up on the tension Jensen was fairly radiating, and touched the button marked ‘Sun Deck’ with a gloved fingertip.
The elevator doors slid shut with a sleek whirr. Jensen stared at the gently blinking lights and tried not to curse Jeff, Jared, or any combination thereof. He had better things to do than babysit Jared, no matter what Jeff thought, and a -small- part of him resented Jeff for the way he could still make Jensen drop everything and come running, never mind that he had been entirely independent for several decades. Why had Jeff even brought Jared? Jensen understood that it was hard for Jeff to leave the kid to his own devices, but if Jeff wasn’t going to have time to keep Jared busy, dragging him along would only mean that he was now unsupervised in a foreign, restricted environment instead of at home where he could at least entertain himself.
The doors slid open while he was still frowning to himself. Immediately, the temperature inside the small room seemed to climb a good thirty degrees or so. He could see the water of the pool glistening in the sunlight, but it seemed like a sad mockery of vacation rather than an actual place to relax and recoup.
Smiling uncertainly, the bellboy nodded towards the door. “The sun deck, sir,” he said.
Jensen smoothed down his blazer in a calming gesture and sighed once again. “Thank you,” he said.
“I hope you enjoy your stay with us, sir,” the bellboy added hesitantly.
Jensen doubted it, but he stepped outside and nodded anyway, waiting until the chrome doors had slid closed once more.
The sun deck was just as artfully designed as the lobby had been. Beyond the infinity pool loomed the Manhattan skyline, a row of pristine lounge chairs were set up next to the water, and a gleaming bar invited all guests to drown their free time in alcohol. Of course, from what Jensen could see, Jared was the only guest on the deck. Not that that was much of a surprise. Everyone who could afford a place like this was either busy or had better places to be than New York City in July, like Bali or the Hamptons. But Jared was stuck here, sprawled out on a tasteful cream-and-wood chaise lounge by the pool, in Armani swim shorts of course, white short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned, with a magazine and his iPod to keep him entertained. One headphone plug was in his ear, the other one rested on his bare chest, glistening with a film of sweat and suntan lotion. While Jensen watched, Jared shifted his legs, then yawned in a haughty, attractive sort of way, and slumped back into the cushions.
He looked bored out of his mind.
Jensen couldn’t help feeling bad for him. Jared was an adrenaline freak all the way. Jeff had taken him to O’ahu for Christmas, or rather, to a business conference with a few vacation days tacked on at the end, and the first thing the kid had done was throw himself out of a plane with a flimsy piece of fabric strapped to his back. Since Jensen had known him, he’d gone shark cage diving in South Africa, Bungee jumping in Macau, street luging in Australia - all in the span of less than a year. He had to be climbing the walls here, where he wasn’t allowed to even clear away his own dishes.
Jensen didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that that way lay trouble. Jared was just one of those people who, when bored, created their own entertainment. And since there was no one here besides the pasty-faced waiter and the bored barkeeper engrossed in the porn mag he’d stuck between the pages of a back issue of GQ, it was the waiter who was currently suffering.
He was barely more than a child, younger than Jared, and still green enough that the sight of topless trophy wives sunning themselves far above the roar of Manhattan probably sent him into a stuttering frenzy. He wasn’t even a looker, let alone Jared’s usual tall, dark and handsome type - a pale redhead with freckles scattered over his nose and cheekbones. He looked highly uncomfortable in his stiff uniform, like he would do anything to be anywhere else. Jensen wasn’t sure how he’d gotten hired at a place like this in the first place. They usually required competence, along with a fairly high level of attractiveness for their visible staff, so at least no one could accuse Jared of being shallow. Cruel, though, that was another matter entirely. He was playing with the boy the way a feral cat would a frightened and somewhat slow field mouse. He teased and toyed, poked and prodded, pretended to look and then pretended he hadn’t. He was so engrossed in his little game that he never even noticed Jensen standing over by the bar, all too focused on the waiter who helplessly clenched his hands around his tray and squeezed his eyes shut.
Jensen fished his Ray Bans out of his chest pocket and pushed them onto his nose, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure how the waiter managed to navigate over to Jared’s chair without tripping or spilling the frilly drink on his tray, but he did, offering it to Jensen’s brother with an awkward little bow. Jared took a small sip, smiled brilliantly, and set it on the ground next to him. Jensen couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was made the waiter blush dark red and beat a graceless retreat. Jared returned to his magazine as if the exchange hadn’t even happened, didn’t bother to watch the boy go.
Jensen shook his head once more. When the waiter was close enough to hear him past the blood that was probably roaring in his ears, he raised his voice a little and said, “Excuse me.”
The boy whirled around. He seemed startled to see Jensen, then clutched his tray in fright when Jensen beckoned him over with two fingers. “Can I, can I get you anything, sir?” he stuttered.
Jensen felt bad for him. He probably thought it was just some harmless, hopeless celebrity crush he was harboring. How was he supposed to know the can of worms he was about to open?
“A glass of water would be great, actually. Slice of lemon?”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter said, bobbing his head dutifully. He hurried off to bar, where the barkeeper closed his magazine with a sigh and slipped off his stool to collect a spotless glass from the shelf. Jensen didn’t bother to watch him make it. Instead, he pretended to be entranced by Jared’s long legs, like he’d never seen before how Jared could flirt with just his body.
The waiter - Robert, his name tag said - approached him carefully, concentrating far too much on the tray balanced on the palm of his hand. “Here’s your water, sir,” he said. “Slice of lemon.”
“Thank you ever so much,” Jensen said.
Robert nodded but apparently couldn’t resist sneaking a look back at the pool, so Jensen pasted a conspiring smile on his face. “Hot, huh?” he said.
Robert blinked at him with a distinct deer-in-the-headlights look.
Jensen gestured in Jared’s general direction. “You know. Him.”
The wide-eyed look disappeared, only to be replaced by a scarlet flush. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Sure you don’t.” Jensen added a condescending little chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t put you on the spot. I just wasn’t expecting to find something out of a Vogue photo shoot here.” Jensen smiled nonchalantly. “Although I guess you’d have to be, to shack up with Jeff Morgan.”
The dreamy expression instantly melted from the waiter’s face, only to be replaced by wide-eyed horror. “What?” he breathed.
Jensen waved a dismissive hand. “Jeff Morgan,” he repeated. “You’ve probably never heard of him. He’s big in the broadcasting business.” He took the glass from Robert’s tray and raised it into the air in salute. “I think he’s here for the conference.”
“He’s with Jeff Morgan?” Robert squeaked. Jensen had no doubt he’d had both name and face drilled into him relentlessly by his superiors. Jeff was not someone anyone wanted to offend, but definitely no one whose professional reputation was on the line. The hotel management would have taken every precaution to prevent a faux-pas.
Jensen nodded cheerfully. “Oh yes,” he said. “They’ve been all over the papers. It’s a shame. I’d probably be tempted to have a go myself, otherwise.”
He watched the boy turn slightly green and tried not to feel like too much of an asshole. It was for his own good, really. Nothing positive ever came of someone eyeing Jeff’s possessions, no matter how hot they were. And Jared was hot. He had big soulful eyes and the devil’s smile, and now that Jeff had gotten him out of the Rainbow flip flops and into some Versace, he looked like he just stepped off the cover page of Forbes Magazine. His snow white collar made his tan even more pronounced, his eyes just a shade darker, a honey-colored poster boy for the rich and infamous. Jensen couldn’t blame the waiter for hoping, dangerous as it was.
But he also refused to feel bad for scaring him. No matter how much Jared might try to buck Jeff’s control, his era of free, careless choices and casual recklessness was over. Because Jared sold his soul to Jeff the moment he accepted his proposal. Jeff might as well have tattooed his name all over Jared’s body, because there was no way Jared was getting away from him now. He just had to realize it.
Jensen set the still mostly-full glass back on the waiter’s tray and smiled. “But enough chitchat. I’ve kept you long enough.”
“Not at all, sir,” Robert said, still a little pale, still a little shell-shocked. He looked like he might throw up any minute, and Jensen conjured up a concerned expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked. He let his hand rest on the boy’s shoulder, watched his eyes dart to Jensen’s fingers and back to his face like a frightened rabbit. “You’re not looking too good. Maybe you should go downstairs and tell them that you’re going home for the day.”
The boy nodded, looking dazed, and Jensen sent him on his way with a light push towards the elevators. “Go on,” he said with an encouraging smile. The expression vanished the moment Robert disappeared behind a door marked ‘Employees Only,’ and he let himself scowl for a moment.
Now for the hard part.
Jensen turned to face the neatly arranged rows of tasteful lounge chairs and swallowed. For a moment, he considered calling Daneel. She was Jensen’s best friend as well as their Sister, and somehow she just had a way with Jared. With a few quiet words and a sugar-sweet smile, she could have him curled up in her lap and purring like an overgrown kitten. But no, she was in Beijing for a medical convention, and even if he somehow managed to get her on the phone, she would tear his head off for interrupting her few hours of sleep.
No, Jensen was on his own here. He sauntered along the pool casually, not at all like he was a man on a mission, and managed to get close enough to read the sleepy boredom on Jared’s face, and the magazine in his hands, before Jared noticed him. It was The Economist. Either Jeff had decided that the kid needed to expand his horizons, or Jared was trying to impress the man. Knowing the two, either option was equally likely. Jensen couldn’t help wishing that they would put as much energy into communicating with each other as they did trying to be blasé and understated. Goodness knew all their lives would be a hell of a lot easier if they did.
“Morning, Jay,” he said.
Jared looked up, surprised at first, then a delighted smile spread across his face. “Jensen!” he said. He shifted his feet, clearing part of the lounge chair in invitation. “What are you doing here?”
Jensen sat. He tilted his Ray Ban’s into his hair and ran one hand up Jared’s calf, then down again and around to the sole of his foot, smiling when Jared giggled and tried to twitch away. “Keeping you out of trouble, apparently,” he said.
Jared scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jensen,” he said. Judging by the tone, he might as well have been protesting an early bedtime.
Jensen ran the tip of his finger along the crease between foot and toes just to see the kid bite his lip in the effort not to smile. “Jeff seems to think so,” he said. Jeff had even said it outright, flat out told Jensen to cancel two meetings with potential clients so he could rush over and avert the coming disaster. So yes, Jared probably needed a babysitter.
Trouble was, the kid didn’t seem to think so. In an instant, the amusement hiding in the creases of his eyes had faded away, only to be replaced by little-boy hurt. “He sent you to keep an eye on me?” the kid pouted.
“He sent me to keep you entertained,” Jensen corrected.
Jared scowled. “I can entertain myself,” he said.
Jensen curled his hand around Jared’s ankle and gripped it tightly. He met the kid’s gaze. “Not with the waiter, you won’t.”
“What, Bobby?” Jared let his magazine drop onto his chest and craned his head around. Jensen followed his gaze back to the bar, but as expected, the waiter was nowhere in sight. Jared pursed his lips. “You scared him off,” he said, mildly accusing.
“I did you a favor,” Jensen replied.
Jared rolled his eyes and lifted the magazine in front of his face once more. “If that’s what you want to call it,” he muttered.
He made an indignant little noise when Jensen reached over, pulled the magazine from his grasp and dropped it on the tiles next to them. “You’d think Jeff would have taught you better manners,” he grumbled.
Jared rolled his eyes at him. “What Jeff doesn’t know, won’t hurt me,” he said.
It was Jensen’s turn to roll his eyes. He reached over and tugged the speaker out of Jared’s ear without even acknowledging the kid’s protesting squawk. “Jeff will know,” he said. “He’ll know. And trust me: You think you know what’ll happen when he finds out, that you know what he’s like when he’s angry, but you really, really don’t.”
“Sheesh,” Jared said. He rubbed along the shell of his ear. “The way you’re going on, you’d think Jeff was about to drop my body in the Hudson.”
Which was unlikely, Jensen had to admit. Jeff was far more likely to flay the skin from Jared’s back and then keep him chained to his bed for a couple of years. He was far too attached to any of them to let them go like that. When it came to the waiter, on the other hand, Jensen wasn’t so sure.
Jared glared at him when Jensen didn’t respond. “Did you want something,” he asked, “or are you just here to lecture me?”
Jensen resisted the urge to smack him. Jared was upset, that was all it was. There was a perfectly acceptable explanation why he was acting like such a brat. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Tinny techno filtered out of Jared’s speakers, interrupting the silence, and Jensen pointed his finger at them. “Turn that thing off,” he told Jared, voice stern.
Jared pressed his lips into a thin line, half sheepish and half annoyed, and picked the machine up, thumb on the white circle. After a moment, the screen went black. It made no sense to Jensen, but then most technology didn’t. He’d finally learned how to use a cell phone a few years ago, but that was mostly just to make Jeff happy. He had never been as obsessive about keeping up with the times as his Father had, and he honestly didn’t see why he needed to know how to text people. Wasn’t that what emails were for? His secretary was in charge of those.
But with Jared, things like knowing how to turn off iPods would probably come in handy. Jensen would have to ask him how to do it at some point, one day when they weren’t on the verge of all-out fighting.
Jared raised his eyebrows at him, as if to say, ‘Happy now?,’ and Jensen leaned forward, right into his personal space.
“You can keep up your little games if you want,” he said. “No one’s stopping you. But trust me when I say that if you take this too far, Jeff will tear you apart.”
A flicker of uncertainty found its way into Jared’s eyes, but then his jaw set stubbornly and he shrugged. “I’ll live,” he said easily.
Jensen fought the urge to sigh, or do something stupid, like clock him. Jared was getting overconfident. It was bound to happen eventually - it had to all of his Siblings, including Jensen - but Jensen still ached for him. It was easy to underestimate Jeff. His sleepy eyes, his easy smile, the lazy twang in his voice.
Jared was going to get a harsh wake-up call in the near future.
But that wasn’t Jensen’s problem to deal with. “And the kid?” he asked, swallowing down his own anger. “The waiter? Did you think about what Jeff would do to him?”
From the startled look on Jared’s face, he honestly hadn’t. And had he or had he not spent the better part of a year at Jeff’s side? The man didn’t tolerate defiance from anyone, however unwittingly done. And Jeff was not the kind of Father who’d send you to your room to think about what you had done.
“Jeff doesn’t care what I do,” Jared mumbled after a moment.
Jensen couldn’t help the eyebrow climbing up his forehead. Jeff, not care what Jared was up to? Maybe he left his older Children to their own devices most days, but Jeff kept an eye on all of them, and three on Jared. Jensen was willing to bet Jeff hadn’t had a real conversation with Jared in several days, and yet he’d known instantly when Jared was about to get himself into serious trouble.
“He cares enough to call me when you’re bored,” Jensen pointed out.
Jared frowned, forehead creasing unhappily, and Jensen knew what he was thinking. Having Jensen around was all well and good, but it was Jeff Jared wanted. Jensen couldn’t compare. He couldn’t say he minded. It stung a little, sure, but only in the generic sense that Jared preferred someone else’s company to Jensen’s. None of Jensen’s siblings could ever hope to take Jeff’s place in his mind, so he couldn’t really expect any of them to feel differently. And he deferred to Jeff anyway, did his bidding, worshipped the ground Jeff walked on, he knew that, so he could appreciate the sentiment.
Daneel had called him a wuss once, a daddy’s boy, back when she was still a grimy little street rat who thought defiance was a way of life. Jensen had just smiled weakly in reply. He’d spent decades alone with Jeff, with no one to distract him from Jensen, and he’d learned the hard way when to wheedle and manipulate, and when to simply bow your head in submission. He knew what it was like to dread Jeff’s attention. He remembered the despair he’d felt when it was no longer on him. He’d gone through an entire myriad of emotions with the man, and he’d seen nine of his siblings go through the same realizations, whether he’d warned them beforehand or not. And now that Jared was doing the same, Jensen might stick around to pick up the pieces, but he refused to meddle. Best case scenario, it wouldn’t do any good at all. And in all the other cases…
Jeff was a scary, scary man. Jensen had known that from the moment he first laid eyes on him, a scruffy, malicious bear of a man, with a grin so cunning and a proposal so heinous that it made even someone as godless as Jensen cross himself in fear. He was an enigma that you had to figure out for yourself, and no matter how much Jensen warned and preached, no one ever learned unless they had their mistakes taken out of their hides.
Jared, no doubt picking up on Jensen’s strained mood, smiled a little helplessly. “Do you want a drink? It gets charged straight to Jeff’s credit card.”
Jensen blinked away the memory of the dark, damp prison cell. Of Jeff’s hand extended towards him, palm up, just waiting for him to sign his life away. “No, thank you,” he said.
“You sure?”
He wasn’t. In reality, Jensen wanted a drink very badly, preferably straight. He also wanted to go home to Danneel, and he wanted Jeff to not be too busy to fix this himself. But as it was, the second two weren’t about to happen and the first was a bad idea, so he shook his head. “How are you liking New York?” he asked instead, determinedly cheerful.
Jared’s answering smile was just as fake. “The hotel is very nice,” he said.
Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Have you been out to the city at all?”
Jared dropped his gaze. He reached over and picked at a loose thread in the lounge chair’s upholstery. “Jeff took me to dinner at La Fonda Del Sol on Sunday,” he said quietly. “But he had dinner meetings the last two days.”
Jensen let his hand rest on Jared’s bare, sun-warmed knee. “You haven’t seen Jeff since Sunday?” he asked, guessing correctly, if the look on Jared’s face was anything to go by.
“I was awake when he came back on Monday,” he muttered, growing quieter with every word. “But he was tired and wanted to go straight to sleep, and then he was gone when I woke up. And I haven’t seen him since.”
Jensen tried very hard not to sigh. Jeff just… It was no wonder Jared’s temper was slipping. He didn’t deal well with being on his own in the first place, always managing to get himself into some trouble or other, but this was Jeff. Jensen remembered all too well what the first couple of years on his own had been like. How he’d missed Jeff like breathing, how he’d wanted to drop everything and get on the next train just so he could see him and smell him and beg him for forgiveness and never leave again. And he’d had Jeff to himself for decades. He’d had time to grow quietly frustrated with the man’s ways, to feel confined, to grow to want independence. All Jared had had time to do was to get used to Jeff’s watchful eyes and his steady, constant presence. Being left on his own like this had to feel like rejection, and no one did rejection as well as Jeff. No wonder Jared was slowly going off the rails.
No wonder he looked like he might cry.
“Poor Jay,” Jensen said quietly. He leaned in, ran his hands over Jared’s abs and up to the side of his neck, to the bite marks that were just barely starting to scar. “All alone in the big city. No wonder you’re so crabby.” He kept his tone light, mocking, but didn’t give Jared a chance to respond.
“I’ll talk to Jeff, okay?” he said. He tightened his fingers, lightly massaged Jared’s stiff neck. “We’ll go to dinner tonight, just the three of us. No business, all pleasure. And then when I have to go back and catch up with my own work, maybe you and Jeff can do something fun. What do you think?” Jared ducked his head away, but Jensen just followed him so the kid was forced to meet his gaze. “Does that sound good?”
“It’s not going to happen,” Jared said quietly. Quietly, but he couldn’t deny the hopeful look in his eyes.
Jensen chucked him under the chin. He laughed when Jared scowled. “Don’t underestimate me,” he said.
Jared smiled a little, almost as if against his will. “If you can pull that off, I’ll tell everyone you’re my coolest big Brother.”
Jensen couldn’t help laughing at that. People called him a lot of things, but ‘cool’ usually wasn’t one of them. “Don’t let the others hear you say that,” he warned.
“And what are they gonna do, huh?” Jared asked. “Glare real hard?” He stretched lazily. “Jeff wouldn’t let them touch me.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Jensen agreed. “And neither would I.”
“Aww,” Jared chuckled, but when Jensen simply held his gaze, dead serious, a slight flush found its way across his cheeks. “I know,” he said quietly. He looked off to the side. “I know that.”
“Good.” Jensen smacked his thigh lightly. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Jared echoed even as he sat up obediently.
Jensen used the opportunity to press a quick kiss to the kid’s forehead, and smiled. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you New York City.”
***
Feedback is, as always, love. :)