NC-17 | Still Here We Are | J2 (1/2)
Foster brothers for four years. Estranged for fifteen. Not much has changed between them, really.
12,300 words. NC-17.
Written for spn_cinema, based on Four Brothers
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story or the movie.
♥ ♥ ♥ to kelleigh for a great beta, and to those on the flist who listened to me moan and groan for two months :-D
Note: Ages are mixed a bit for the sake of the story, Jared being the youngest here.
It’s not the ugliest scene they’ve ever approached. But the sight of what both these detectives know to be one of the prettiest women on the West Side now marred in a car accident? Having the steering wheel be the only thing that stopped her from being thrown through the front window? The loss of this life is more revolting than anything they’ve dealt with before.
The two detectives stand side-by-side. They stay quiet, and prayer could break out if any one of the crime scene techs would stop yelling at them to step out of the shot. They know they’re in the way, but they don’t move. There are quiet words floating into the atmosphere, ones where they both acknowledge the kind heart of the woman below them.
Mark Pellegrino pushes his hands further into his pockets and thinks about storied histories of families come and gone. And this one? This woman all tore up makes his heart hurt. During his street patrol days, he’d taken more trips up her front steps than of any other family in this neighborhood. That’s bound to happen when a young woman runs a house of fosters. He can’t forget four particular boys up to no good and utterly disastrous together.
“Last person you wanna see on the job,” he says.
Misha Collins, his partner, only nods in return, knowing much of the same. Pellegrino’s reminded of how little he had cared to deliver bad news at bad hours all those years ago. Especially to this woman’s always hopeful, forgiving smile.
After a few moments, he looks over to his partner with a wry twist of his mouth. Collins says, “The whole world’s gonna break loose about her.”
“You think those boys’ll come back?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t think of a worse thing to bring those kids home.”
“Better get our beauty rest.”
Samantha Smith was the worst woman to end up in the morgue. She was known for having a heart of gold and arms too small to hold all the love she had to give. Everyone knew Samantha for her instant emotional connection to children in the neighborhood. Hell, she took four boys in, one right after another, until two rooms on the second floor of her bungalow were filled with the noises of furniture being knocked around and constant bickering.
For a decade she watched over those boys, letting them leave when they were seventeen and insistent they didn’t need family anymore. The two eldest left first while the youngest hung around long after he hit adulthood, leaving once he found himself a steady job. Thanks to her, his bravado had ebbed into confidence, and general attitude made way for courtesy and thoughts before action.
But she didn’t save anyone. Hadn’t put them into college or given them a future. She’d shoved enough good love and common sense into them to slow them down a little and let their childhoods last a few more years. They each left town with something a bit better in their lives and in their souls.
The world itself, despite Pellegrino’s prediction, will not break loose. But her four boys… When they come home, they certainly will.
The neighborhood gathers at Samantha Smith’s now-lifeless home. There’s furniture, sure, but no one to permanently inhabit the home. Everything is exactly as it’s been for nearly two decades now: rose-patterned wallpaper from corner to corner on the lower level. Green, aged appliances keep the kitchen running, and three bedrooms remain upstairs; her room is very lived in, the other two not for quite a few years.
Samantha never was one for money - earning or keeping it. She shared as much as she had, supporting local youth centers, women’s shelters, and any other effort to preserve the dwindling community. There isn’t money for a funeral, and most everyone already knew she wasn’t one for wasted funds. She wouldn’t want to be put on display, especially not as she’d left this world. No, she’d rather people join together, pay their respects, relive memories.
So many memories gather dust on the mantel and a dozen wall shelves she’d packed full of photos and favors collected from weddings, baby showers, and charity functions leave behind marks from where they’ve been picked up and replaced.
Pellegrino and Collins stand in the corner of the dining room, holding small snack plates that don’t serve any purpose other than to make the detectives look interested. Collins is particularly drawn to watching guests come and go. At this moment, all words are lost on him as he keeps his eyes locked into the space just ahead of him where Samantha’s boys are expected to first be seen. He’s tense beside his partner, hoping to serve as an immediate warning to the four sons who are anticipated to come home and raise hell.
Matt and Aldis, the two middle boys, enter to much fanfare. They were always the friendliest, most helpful of the family, always offering a hand with groceries or holding doors open for their neighbors. That is, when they weren’t trashing alleys and charming girls in the park. Matt was always best at that, with a toothpaste smile and crystal eyes. Now, he’s dark-haired and even more broad-shouldered, standing tall next to his brother.
Aldis is even taller, well past the six-foot teenager he once was. His skin is smooth yet tight to a body he’s obviously kept in shape, and Collins remembers chasing the boy through a dozen different gangways the night he’d caught the few of them joyriding a cruiser. Collins twitches in memory and Pellegrino taps his elbow.
“Steady now,” he rumbles with a smirk. “Why not wait for all four to show up?”
“Cut ‘em off early,” Collins returns. His smile is lethal as he watches Matt step behind Aldis and smack his back while they grin at each other. “Divide and conquer, and all that.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for revenge.”
“I’m not looking for revenge,” Collins insists, eyes still on Matt hugging his way through the room. The brother’s got a sad smile in place, comforting all that he steps up to. But it makes Collins’ skin crawl as that same look had tricked him more than once when he was on the beat and first faced these boys.
“Would you prefer retribution?”
“I’d prefer to not have to worry about these assholes.”
Pellegrino hums as they both watch the youngest step through the front door. “They’re not kids anymore.”
Jared had always been a shy kid, saying less with his mouth than he did with his clumsy, lanky limbs. He’d fought Aldis for height back when all four boys lived here, but it’s now obvious that he shot up - and out. Six and a half feet of muscle, built out like a tank, but still with the sweetest eyes that dare to be genuine.
As he crosses the room, Jared’s gaze winds around all the guests, all while he hugs and shares soft words for all the kindness thrown his way.
Collins remembers a skinny, nervous boy who’d followed his big brothers around, who was always in tow but never in trouble. On more than one occasion, Collins had witnessed the eldest taking the heat for something as small as a shoplifted bag of chips from a grocer the boy had only seen once, just to send Jared home without penalty.
That’s who Collins’ gut burns to see, to catch in the act, and put behind bars for good. The kid who’d once stolen his patrol car, raced it through town with the sirens going to avoid all red lights, and then shot it right into the river seconds after jumping from the driver’s seat.
“Here we go,” Pellegrino mumbles.
When Collins looks up, the eldest stands in the living room.
Now six foot-plus, he’s no longer the shortest of the bunch, but the thinnest compared to how the other three have built their bodies. His hair is still a mess, disheveled in all directions, clothes layered like he couldn’t care what’s on his frame, and stroll lazy but confident. Once he approaches Matt, he nods with a raised eyebrow, takes Matt’s hand to shake then tugs him in to hug. He repeats the process with Aldis, huffing a laugh when his brother smacks his back soundly. Then his lips curl into a sharp smile when he faces Jared and tips his head up, purposely eying the height the youngest now carries.
His smirk makes Collins’ anger flash, for all the times he’d pointed it at judges in return for suspended sentences, all on the promises of community service and atonement.
God damnit, he hates Ackles, and he swears to take him down.
When Jensen catches Aldis’s grin, he’s reassured that coming home was the right decision. It’d been fifteen years since he last stepped foot in this living room. He’d just turned seventeen and was ready to bolt since thirteen. Not because Mom was bad or insufferable. More because she wasn’t, and Jensen felt guilty when she’d frown at him for yet another juvenile infraction.
Coming back felt like home, for sure, but in a strangely distant way. No one else in the room was excited to see him but his brothers, and even that was debatable given how slowly Jared moved towards him or how stiff the hug was. Despite all the times Jensen shoved Jared out of danger, the kid now stares at him like he’s a disgrace to be seen.
It all reminds him of their years together in this home, and he slips right into the taunting, older brother. He aims for Matt first, mocking his matured good looks by stroking over Matt’s cheek and combing through his hair, no matter how many times Matt smacks the hand away.
“Look at Clark Kent, here,” Jensen grins.
“Knock it off,” Matt sighs with an empty smile. It’s one Jensen remembers well from dull nights at home when they’d wrestle and tear apart the living room as they dug at each other’s greatest insecurities and fired one another up. He and Matt always fought the hardest, but always ended with laughter when they smashed another piece of furniture.
“You’re so pretty,” he coos, patting at Matt’s cheek. “Ain’t he pretty?” Jensen asks Aldis and Jared, both standing in close distance. “I bet he’d look good out on Sixth, bending over cars for fifty bucks.”
“Cut it out,” Matt grunts. He glares at Jensen, and the air crackles, a familiar sensation that makes Jensen’s stomach flip.
“Dude, it’s Mom’s service,” Jared whispers with an angry look.
Jensen drops it, living for the sharp look Matt fires at him without moving. He laughs lightly. “I’m just kidding, Matty. Gosh, you got soft.”
“You’re the one who knows all about gettin’ it on Sixth,” Matt taunts. “Bet you made a pit stop. Is that why you’re late?”
He grows quiet, staring right at Matt with the dig hitting him in the gut.
“Or are you gonna head there after all this? Like a little homecoming tour?”
In a second, Jensen’s punched Matt square on the jaw, knocking him to the ground. The guests react loudly, shoving each other away from the scene and Collins and Pellegrino rush in, even as it goes no farther. Aldis and Jared grab Jensen and nearly throw him down the basement stairs. Jensen only stays upright with quick hands around the handrail after stumbling a few steps.
The door slams and he hears the familiar snap of the lock sliding into place. His very own dungeon, one his brothers had tossed him into when fights got too rough, too soon. As he had so many times in the past, he stomps to the bottom of the stairwell and sits on a step, staring at the unfinished basement packed with crates and baskets. There are a dozen or so boxes with their names on the sides. He’s never seen these before, but Mom’s handwriting is all too familiar.
He sighs and looks away.
When Jensen had first heard the news, he upended a bookcase.
His roommates jumped him, tearing him away from the TV before he could toss that across the room, too. When they finally released him, he marched out the front door, down a block, turned a corner, and dropped to the curb. He didn’t cry, which still bugs him to think about. But he sure gave himself one hell of a headache as the want to release something overwhelmed him.
He’d then grabbed the next Greyhound up north, which brought him to town two days before the memorial, and a rental car got him around. He sat at a motel outside of town and, after half a bottle of Jack, he’d kicked the dresser, sure that he’d broken a few toes but ignoring that pain for something deeper.
Mom wouldn’t want him to break anything he could get his hands on or toss chairs through windows, and she sure as hell wouldn’t want him to fight his brothers when he was supposed to be honoring her.
With that, he decides to meet them at the bar, like he’d overheard them discussing while he stayed locked in the basement. The same window at the back of the house is loose, one he’d snuck in and out of a hundred times after Mom had fallen asleep and trouble still called his name.
When he’s within sight, he sees Matt tense up with a harsh stare. Jensen wants to frown at that, dole out apologies like a deck of cards; he knows he owes them all too many sorries, but he can’t muster the courage and, instead, he slips into the same mold he’d carved out in his teens.
“Chill out, Matilda,” Jensen says as he takes a chair across from Matt. “I’m just here for the liquor. And maybe the women.”
“When’s the last time you took a girl home?” Aldis smirks with a long look.
Jensen’s jaw clenches and his eyes slide over to Aldis then farther yet to the tall, trim blond next to him. He smiles at her. “Can’t tell ya, but maybe tonight’ll be lucky.” He leans back in his chair, running his hands down his chest as he looks right at her. “And you are?”
She answers, “Katie,” just as Aldis says, “Taken,” and tugs her chair closer.
“Just askin’ if-”
“And I’m just sayin’,” Aldis cuts in.
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Alright, touchy.” He claps his hands and clears the tension with a light smile and voice. “Who’s thirsty?”
“Like you’re buying?” Matt asks.
He nods and manages to be sincere, wanting less to fight with his brothers the more he sits. “I would.”
Matt seems to settle at that and relaxes his shoulders. “Jay’s buying, so you can grab the next one.”
“Where’s the boy?” Jensen laughs. “I hardly got to talk to him at the house.”
All eyes turn to the bar where Jared leans over the oak counter with a twenty between his fingers and waits for the bartender to serve him. Jensen takes the time to really consider his younger brother, to figure out all the ways this isn’t Jared anymore, at least not the one who followed Jensen all around town.
Aldis, Matt, and Katie carry on their own conversation, laughing hysterically at some memory Jensen can’t place. Especially as he’s distracted by Jared’s long legs, the firm angle of his back, and the cut of his shirt across broad shoulders. Kid got big, he thinks, and ponders the many ways Jared could fold him in two as payback for all the times Jensen mocked and belittled him when he was just a gawky shadow.
When Jared turns away from the bar with four bottles in his giant paws, Jensen sits up and cocks his head. Jared’s expression is still shut off like it was when they were young, but something else flickers on his face as their eyes meet, like another shield slides into place and Jared’s even more guarded.
“Looking good, slim,” Jensen smirks when Jared sets the beers onto the table.
“Oh God, no,” Jared grumbles as he drops into his chair.
The brothers break into laughter at Jared’s morose look, and Katie sits forward. “Slim?”
“Slim Jim,” Matt says before draining a third of his beer.
“Is your name really Jim?” she asks oddly.
“No,” Aldis laughs, reclining in his seat and resting his arm across the back of hers. “It’s ‘cause he’s so skinny.”
She looks at each of them, eyes staying on Jared longer than the others. “No offense, but I wouldn’t exactly call you skinny.”
Jensen settles forward on his elbows, mouth cocking a smile as he regards Katie for a long moment. “He also smells like beef jerky.”
“I do not,” Jared argues.
“Dude, I did your laundry,” Aldis laughs. “You never had to smell your own drawers.”
Jared’s face tightens up and he seems to be less horrified and more pissed off. “Dude, shut up.”
Jensen sits up and gives Aldis a quick look. “Hey, c’mon.”
“You started it,” Aldis complains.
“Yeah, well,” Jensen says as he ropes his arm around Jared’s neck, pulls him in, and slaps at his chest. “No one makes fun of my sister but me.”
Jared elbows at Jensen, forcing him away. “You know…” Jared huffs.
“What?” Jensen asks sharply. Jared doesn’t answer, but he does ease up from being so aggravated and quietly sighs. Jensen goes playful when he pats at Jared’s chest and nods at him. “You want a shot?”
“No.”
“C’mon. Let’s drink together.”
Slowly, Jared says, “You never let me drink. You always sat with them in the garage and got wasted but kicked me out.”
“First time for everything.” Jensen shrugs. “I wanna buy my baby brother a shot. Lemme do it.”
Matt kicks Jensen under the table. “You can buy your other baby brothers shots.”
“Yeah? You let me know when they show up,” Jensen laughs as he stands and then goes to the bar.
He’s sifting through his wallet when Jared bumps into him with a light elbow. “You don’t have to buy us shots to show off.”
“I’m not showing off,” he argues immediately.
Jared motions at Jensen’s wallet, with only a few bills in the center fold. “Looks like you’re light anyway.”
Jensen reaches into an inner fold and pulls a fifty out, putting it on the bar next to the shot glasses the bartender lines up. “Why don’t you stop worrying about me and stick to looking pretty?” Jensen slides a shot in front of Jared and nods with one in his own hand. “Bottom’s up.” Even though Jared moves slowly, they knock them back together and take another round back to the table.
A few hours pass as they all put away enough beer and shots to make them loose and rowdy, shouting over each other and laughing uncontrollably. More than once, they’re served dirty looks from other patrons, but the only response is to taunt each other more, getting louder and louder.
When Jensen catches sight of Pellegrino and Collins heading their way, he nods at them with a crooked smile. “Hey there, officers.”
“Detectives, thank you very much,” Collins says with attitude.
“Oh, that’s exciting. They give you training wheels with that promotion?” He hears Jared groan but doesn’t bother stopping with the attitude. “How’s tricks?” He nods at Collins. “You still buying dates out on Sixth?”
Collins glares at him. “That was a sting opera-”
“You boys playing nice?” Pellegrino asks as he steps in front of his partner and taps at the table. “I’d hate to put a damper on your family reunion because you kids never grew up.”
Jensen tugs Jared in with an arm around his neck. “We always play nice. Except when your sister asked for it dirty.”
Jared groans again and pushes Jensen away before putting a hand out towards Pellegrino, whose dark stare is locked onto Jensen. “We’re fine. And he’s kidding.”
Collins points right at Aldis and Matt. “You all better be on your best behavior.”
“Or else what, daddy?” Matt asks with a pout. “No dessert after dinner?”
Pellegrino glares at them all in turn. “We’re watching you, alright? One little misstep and you’ll be in handcuffs in the back of my car.”
“Man, I wish, Marky,” Jensen says with a tsk. “But you’re just not my type.”
Collins smacks his lips together then smirks. “Get a few drinks in you and I bet anyone is.”
Jensen grows quiet, and it’s Jared, again, trying to soothe the mood. “Message received. Everything’s good.”
A short stare-down passes before Collins and Pellegrino smile genially and nod at them. “Have a good evening, boys.”
“We’ll certainly try,” Jensen replies. He watches until the detectives grab a table in the corner and keeps his eyes locked on them.
Jared sighs. “Why do you always gotta start shit with them?”
“What?”
“Not home for a day and you’re getting them on our ass.”
Jensen smirks as he glances around Jared to see his backside. “You just might like that.”
“Jensen,” Jared says sternly.
He drops it and looks right at Matt and Aldis before giving a brief head nod that sets them both in motion, Matt heading out the front door with Aldis reluctantly following. Jensen stands, tugs on Jared’s shirt for him to come with, and walks casually to the back of the bar and into the mediocre kitchen with Jared on his heels.
“What’re you doing?” Jared asks.
“Just having a little family fun,” he replies idly, searching through the industrial fridge. He grabs a handful of bananas and when he steps back, the cook is standing on the other side of the door. Jared makes a nervous noise and Jensen just smiles. “Hey, Luis.”
“Jensen,” the cook smiles easily, just like they did years ago when they crossed paths. “What’re you up to?”
“My doctor says I need more potassium.”
“I’ve got a pie to make.” He reaches forward and snags a banana back. “I think four’s enough for you.”
“We’re growing up to be big strong boys,” Jensen replies happily as he moves through the kitchen and out the back door.
He finds Matt and Aldis by the police sedan and tosses two bananas to Matt, who catches them easily and jogs around the other side of the car.
“Man, c’mon, what’re we doing?” Aldis asks with a sigh.
“Just serving the boys in blue a nice present,” Jensen replies, peeling a banana before smashing it under the door handle.
Jared huffs but keeps look-out for the front door. “I can’t believe you’re still doing this stupid shit.”
Aldis rolls his eyes. “You and me both.”
Jensen tsks. “It’s just a li’l harmless fun, Slim.” He stuffs the other banana under the back door handle and stands with a put-on disappointed look. “Why can’t you let me have some harmless fun?”
“Because it’s never harmless,” Jared argues back.
“Yeah, it always ended with me running my ass off and hiding in garbage cans,” Aldis says.
“Hey, Aldis?” Jensen asks. “Why don’t you go nail your girl down before you have yourself a coronary.”
“Whatever,” he sighs. “Y’all are on your own.”
As Aldis goes back to the bar, Jensen shuffles around to the driver’s side door and Matt to the passenger side, both looking inside. “Blinking light,” Matt says.
Jensen looks at Jared. “Might wanna cover those elephant ears of yours.”
Before Aldis can make it inside or anyone can cover their ears, Jensen moves to the front of the car and kicks at the front bumper. One, two, three times to dent the thing in and trigger the car alarm.
Aldis and Jared freak immediately, but not much else is said as Matt and Aldis race to the left and Jensen yanks on Jared’s shirt to pull him to hide around the side of the building. They watch Pellegrino and Collins rush from the bar, shocked at the busted bumper and shrieking alarm, looking around the parking lot. Simultaneously, they reach for the door handles and cry out in disgust with the mashed fruit on their fingers.
With one quick look, Collins eyes Jensen around the corner. He shouts and points at them, and Jensen jerks Jared with him to run down the alley. The alarm quiets just as police sirens wail, and Jensen shoves Jared as they speed up and take residential gangways and more alleys to outrun the detectives who can’t track them as they follow escape paths Jensen’d used far too often years ago.
When the siren fades, now moving away rather than towards them, Jensen slows to a jog and glances over his shoulder to Jared coming up behind him, chest heaving with great effort. They pull up behind a rusted tool shed and lean against the metal siding, trying to catch their breath, and the second Jensen starts laughing, Jared surprisingly joins him.
“Man, their faces,” Jared wheezes as he sags against the shed. “Bananas?” he asks before breaking into harder laughter.
“Good to see you loosen up.” Jensen keeps grinning as he smacks at Jared’s stomach. Suddenly, Jared lurches forward and vomits right at Jensen’s feet. Jensen shuts his eyes and does his best to not groan or get sick himself at the wetness seeping into his jeans. He grudgingly rubs over Jared’s back and grits his teeth. “You feel better now?”
“A little, yeah,” Jared says pathetically. “I think I drank too much.”
“Yeah, I’d say.”
Jensen dumps Jared onto his old bed, and it squeaks under the strain of his larger body, which barely fits on the mattress. His legs hang off the side and he nearly smacks his head into the wall.
“Gonna make a mess of yourself?” Jensen asks, and Jared shakes his head. “You want a bucket just in case?”
Jared clears his throat, wincing at the foul taste of alcohol and bile. “I could use some water.”
A minute later, a glass is set at the desk next to the bed, and the mattress across the way whines as Jensen sits on the edge, watching him with a tired look.
As Jared rises to his elbow and sips water, he looks at Jensen. “S’all your fault.”
“It’s my fault you can’t handle your liquor?”
“Wanted your li’l brother drunk,” he grumbles before dropping back to the mattress and shutting his eyes against the spinning room.
“Yeah, drunk. Not wasted.”
He rolls to his back, stretching his limbs out and almost wishing he were a kid again. Not just so he could fit on the damned bed, but also so he could go back to more innocent thoughts and have less to worry for. Back when Mom was still alive and would coddle him up in her big bed and wipe away any wayward thoughts.
“I should’ve seen her more,” Jared mumbles.
It stays silent for a while before Jensen clears his throat. “We probably all should have.”
He fumbles to reach up and rub his face, dizziness overtaking him with the movement. “I miss her.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Jensen whispers, and it forces Jared to turn his head and stare at him. “What?” Jensen says with a strange smile. “I can’t have feelings once in a while?”
Shuffling to kick his shoes off, Jared sighs before twisting and dragging the blanket over him as he looks at Jensen, who just sits at the edge of the bed Matt had used for the handful of years Jared had to share the room. Jensen’s leaning forward with his hands clasped together and watching Jared.
“Everyone leaves,” Jared grumbles. “I thought she’d always be here, but no.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I was the only one who stayed,” Jared says. “You left, then Aldis, and even Matt. I stayed.”
Jensen shrugs and looks away. “People grow up.”
Jared hums as his eyelids droop but he doesn’t fall asleep just yet.
“You gonna be okay to sleep?” Jensen asks. Jared barely nods, but Jensen must see it because he shifts down to unlace his boots and tugs them off. “Last time I buy you liquor,” Jensen chuckles as he stands, undoes his jeans, and pulls them off. “You just wasted a good forty bucks tossing your cookies.”
Jared finally chuckles with him, and Jensen’s under the covers of the other bed, arm tucked under the pillow beneath his head.
After some time, Jared closes his eyes and he’s just starting to fall asleep when Jensen murmurs, “People come and go. You can’t blame yourself.”
Jared’s eyes open and he blankly stares at Jensen, who keeps his shut like he never said anything at all. Jared turns to his stomach and shucks the pillow to fit better under his cheek. He keeps watching Jensen, just watching him sleep, or try to, or maybe just pretend. With a deep breath, Jared asks, “Remember when you took the fall for the food I lifted from Hofferman’s?”
“Yeah. I spent a weekend in Juvie.” A beat later, Jensen adds, “Little punk.”
“I took it for Mom. She promised sandwiches for a study group I had.”
Jensen’s eyes slide open for a second before he mumbles, “Yeah, I know.”
“Two days to payday and she couldn’t buy bread.” Jensen doesn’t respond and Jared says, “You took the blame for it.”
“I was there, Jared,” he replies angrily. “I remember it just fine.”
“Why?”
“Why do I remember Juvie? Because Dan Parker shoved my head into a door.”
Jared stares at Jensen, recognizing the hard line of his brow and mouth as his temper begins to flare. “Why’d you say you did it? You weren’t even there.” He goes on when Jensen is strangely silent. “You hadn’t even been in the store, and Collins already had you on the line for stealing Parker’s bike.”
“Probably why he made me kiss that door,” Jensen mumbles.
“You knew you’d go to Juvie because you already had Collins on you.”
Jensen turns onto his back and sighs, pushing a hand over his face and resting it at the top of his head. “You wanted food for your friends and Mom couldn’t do it. No reason for you to start a record.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Go to sleep,” Jensen sighs again.
“Jensen, I-”
“Sleep, Jared.”
Jared drags his eyes open to dull sunlight coming in through the thin curtains, but it’s enough to pierce his brain. His head pounds and his mouth is full of sand, and he turns his face into the pillow with a groan. When he can’t manage to fall back asleep, he shifts to his side and grabs the glass on the desk, draining what’s left of the water.
His limbs are sluggish as he picks himself up to sit, feet smacking the ground, hand scrubbing through his hair. When he sits upright, his back jerks, muscles sore from the old, lumpy mattress and never moving after he’d passed out.
He stands, intending to hit the bathroom and then the kitchen to fill his growling stomach, but he trips first, going down hard to his knees and cracking his head against the dresser just next to the door. Groaning, he slides to the side and then kicks Jensen’s boots out of the way and hauls himself up and out of the bedroom.
Fucking Jensen, Jared curses. Buying all that alcohol, tossing him into a shitty bed, and leaving shit on the floor to make him trip. Jared’s gonna kill that guy.
After pissing for what feels like all morning, he raids the fridge and downs orange juice straight from the carton, and gets smacked at the back of the head for it. He sputters juice across the closed freezer door and hears Matt laughing as he goes to the cupboards.
“Ma taught you better than that, you slob,” Matt says as he digs out a box of cheese crackers.
“Shithead,” Jared whines. “My head fucking hurts enough already.”
Matt laughs harder this time, shoving at Jared’s shoulder. “Ain’t my fault babygirl can’t handle her liquor.”
Jared pushes back, roughly forcing Matt into the dining room even though Matt just keeps laughing. “I’m not a fucking baby anymore!”
“Sure sounds like it!” they barely hear from below.
Shutting his eyes and resting his forehead on the freezer door, Jared steadies his breathing. He thinks back to something more calming, like the view from the balcony of his tiny apartment. It’s not much, but he can catch a sliver of the ocean from it and he focuses on that. It’s better than the instant defensive stance he always takes with his brothers.
He never wanted to come back, had no intentions of reviving these relations. But with the way he’d cried all night when he heard Mom was gone, he knew he couldn’t ignore what she meant to him. He couldn’t not show.
He’s really regretting that he cares so much.
“Always so sensitive, Slim,” Matt taunts, fluffing Jared’s hair.
Jared stays put, even while his mind relives all the jabs and smacks his brothers had served him for the years they were all together. He also remembers the hostility that brewed below the surface because he couldn’t manage to fight back. He was never the biggest; not with Aldis around. He was far from being the strongest; Matt’s always worked his muscles up and been physical, pushing and slapping when he got the chance. He didn’t have the sharpest tongue; Jensen talked enough for them all. They never really let up on him over it all, or would wholly ignore him for being unable to keep up.
But he’s not all those things anymore. He knows he’s taller, stronger, and has a spine these days. So, when Matt nudges him into the fridge again, still chuckling, Jared pushes him back into the dining room table, which rattles under Matt’s weight. Jared points at him with a glare. “Stop fucking around with me.”
Before Matt can answer, Jared heads down the basement stairs, not thinking of anything but getting away, and he always did in the basement. He’d look through boxes Mom had stowed away, chock full of old magazines, photo albums of other children she’d helped over the years, and mementos of her own family.
When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Jensen’s sitting on the floor near a stack of boxes he doesn’t remember in the front of the basement, and Jensen’s eying him. Then Jensen looks up to the ceiling and smirks. “What kind of shit you starting up there?”
“Matt’s being a dick,” he answers tightly.
“When is he not a dick?” Jensen asks as he turns back to the box open in front of him.
Jared joins Jensen near the boxes, crossing his legs as he leans over the top of the one Jensen’s riffling through. “When I don’t have to see his face?”
“And you wondered why I clocked him yesterday?”
“Not anymore,” he says. He reaches over Jensen’s arms and grabs a plaque from within the box. It has a raised form of a baseball player and a gold tag reading Most Valuable Player. “What the hell is this?”
Jensen looks over but then focuses on whatever papers he’s sifting through. “I dunno.”
Jared flips it and there’s a gold sticker there; it’s already peeling at the edges and the black print is worn and scratched. “Is this yours?”
“I probably stole it from someone,” Jensen says distractedly, still working through the forms in his hands.
“No, it’s like-” Jared’s sidetracked by a trophy with a baseball player on top, engraved with League Champions, and he nudges the box to the side to see Jensen’s name in Mom’s handwriting across the side. “These are all yours.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
As Jensen shifts to the side and drags another box over, Jared grabs the papers from his lap and starts combing over the words. Jensen snags them right back and gives him a sharp look, but Jared sees enough. “You’re looking for your mom?” Jared asks.
“No,” Jensen insists quickly.
Jared reaches into the box again. “Then why’re you-”
“My mom’s dead,” he snaps as he pulls the box away from Jared. “So no, I’m not looking for her. I know exactly where she is.”
Suddenly, Jared’s headache returns and his eyes start to itch. Maybe it’s the basement dust hitting his hangover, or maybe it’s the aggravation of dealing with Jensen all over again. The mood swings and Jensen’s flaring temper had never been anything Jared could stand as a kid. They’re even more intolerable as an adult.
“Well then what’re you doing?” Jared asks tightly. “’Cause it looks like you’re digging up your past.”
Jensen blinks a few times then puts most of the items back into the box. “I was just curious what Mom had on us.” He pushes both boxes as far as his arms reach then nudges them to the wall with his feet. He settles back on his palms and crosses his ankles as he look over Jared. “You don’t look too good, Slim.”
“Could be all that liquor you tossed down my throat,” Jared mumbles as he rolls his eyes.
Leaning closer, Jensen pats Jared’s cheek and smiles. “Aww, baby’s first hangover.”
Jared slaps his hand away and glares. Jensen smirks and reaches forward, Jared slapping him away again and kicking at his knee. Jensen doesn’t even pause before jumping right at Jared and tackling him to the ground. Arms fly and they struggle to grab at each other as they keep twisting until Jared turns over Jensen and wraps his arms around Jensen’s chest, legs locking around his knees to keep him in place.
“You crazy goatfucker,” Jared grunts at his ear, feeling all anger slip back to when he was twelve. Jensen laughs but keeps struggling in the hold and gets an arm loose to reach back and yank on Jared’s hair. Jared groans with the sharp pain. “Ass-faced dick,” he pants out. He struggles to keep Jensen restrained, mistakenly allowing Jensen to kick out and ring his arm back around Jared’s neck, tugging on as much hair as he can get at.
Jensen frees his shoulders enough to wedge himself around and then he groans in Jared’s face. “Oh my God. You smell like rotting ass. Did you throw up in your mouth?”
Just like that, Jared snaps his mouth shut and stares at Jensen, who starts chuckling. A low rumble in Jensen’s chest rolls into full, hilarious laughter that becomes so infections Jared starts laughing with him as he shoves Jensen away, kicking his ass for good measure. Even as the mood is lightened, Jared complains, “Why do you assholes keep fucking with me?”
As Jensen gets to his feet, he leans over and pinches Jared’s cheek. “’Cause you’re so pretty.” When Jensen steps away, Jared slaps his ass. Jensen startles then smiles at him. “Just how I like it, baby.”
“God, you’re a prick.” Jared scrambles to stand and pushes Jensen away as he goes to the stairs. They fumble up them together, Jensen trying to shoulder his way forward, but Jared makes it to the kitchen first then races to the second floor. Jensen is right behind him, tugging on Jared’s shirt and jeans along the way. But Jared soldiers on, slams the bathroom door in Jensen’s face, and locks it.
Jared’s grinning as he drags his shirt over his head and drops his pants, and Jensen’s pounding at the door. Once Jared starts the shower, Jensen’s banging gets louder and he yells through the door, “C’mon, you asshole. I gotta piss.”
“Use a tree outside!” Jared yells back, stepping into the shower. He smiles to himself as he washes his hair and nearly giggles at the jangling of the doorknob.
Just as he’s washing down his chest, the door pops open to Jensen’s triumphant laughter. “You never could remember where the key was.”
“You’re a dick,” Jared yells.
“Tell someone who cares,” Jensen replies. He lifts the toilet seat, pisses, and flushes the toilet, which sucks all warm water from the shower.
Jared shouts and forces the showerhead at the wall, shivering from the ice cold water shocking his body. Probably should’ve seen that coming. “I will kill you!”
The edge of the curtain is tugged back and Jensen leans against the edge of the wall right there. “You always say the sweetest things to me.”
Before Jared can come up with the right response, Jensen’s eyes slip down Jared’s body and his eyebrows rise as he smiles lightly.
“What?” Jared grumbles.
Jensen nods with an impressed glance. “Looks like you grew all over.”
Jared rolls his eyes closed and pulls the showerhead back into place with the water warming again. He doesn’t bother answering or forcing Jensen away; he pretends it wasn’t said and that he doesn’t care Jensen said it. Because he doesn’t … really.
Jensen snorts. “Alright, princess. I’ll let you be in peace.”
He keeps his eyes shut as he finishes cleaning, at least until he hears the door open and shut, and he’s left alone.
In a way, he’s ungrateful for it. There go all distractions from his crazy thoughts. They all wander back to those years when he looked up to Jensen, wanted to be cocky like him, wanted Jensen to drag him along instead of push him away. If he’s being honest, that day he stole from Hofferman’s, he did it with Jensen in mind, knowing just how much bullshit Jensen got away with, and Jared wanted that high. But when he was caught and Jensen showed at the store, it all went wrong. Jensen looked at him like he was an alien, disappointment and disgust evident in every word he fired at him while they stood in the alley, Jensen muttering fucking idiot before the cops had arrived, far sooner than either had expected.
And when Jensen turned seventeen and walked out that front door, Jared sulked on the sofa by the window, watching it happen but wishing he had the nerve to ask him to stay. He was only thirteen and had no business thinking of anyone the way he did of Jensen, let alone his foster brother. But he couldn’t help the worship or want that brewed below the surface.
Coming back, having this reunion, had never been something he sought out, but now he’s not so sure.
