Gunshy - Part 4
Masterpost
Part 4
By the time Jared shows up, there are four agents going through Jensen's office.
"Katie says it looks like there might have been a struggle," Jeff says, quietly.
Jared goes to find Katie. "He called me last night," Jared says. "He said - he knew who had done it. We were supposed to meet, but he didn't show up, and I just assumed -" Jared swallows. "We've been fighting. I should have known something happened."
Jared spends the next three hours feeling utterly helpless. They find Jensen's car in the parking garage, obviously untouched, and the agents investigating Jensen's house don't find anything. The ME's office has security cameras in the lobby and the lab, but the video's been tampered with. Jared watches Jensen go into his office at 9 p.m., but there's nothing after that, and the feed goes abruptly into static at just past 3:30. Someone finds his cell phone in the parking lot, but it's shattered underneath someone's car, completely destroyed. Jensen's office is a mess, with papers on every surface, the chair and Jensen's flimsy asian coffee table tipped over. There's no blood, but someone finds Jensen's laptop behind the desk itself, dented but still functional. Jared runs through twenty-eight bones before he figures out the password, but there's nothing new on the desktop, just journal articles and folders of report photos.
"Jensen said he knew who it was," Lee says. "If we can…"
"Yeah," Jared says. "I'm on it."
Jared has a pile of papers - some of which probably aren't even related - and Jensen's laptop, which isn't much to go on, but if this is anyone's fault, it's his - for not having been honest with Jensen, for not getting to the lab fast enough, for walking away and going back to sleep. He sets himself up in one of the exam rooms, trying to ignore the agents walking back and forth across the lobby, and starts exploring Jensen's browser history. Twenty minutes later, Kristen pushes her way in.
"Jeff's still talking to the agents," she says, red-eyed and obviously shaken, "but we want to help."
Jared's worked best alone for his entire life, but somehow, he realizes, here, he wants help. Every extra set of eyes means catching something he might miss, and if he's honest, Jared doesn't have room to be proud.
"Sort these," Jared says. "Anything that's not obviously relevant, just - put to the side."
Twenty minutes later, Kristen's frowning at the stack of papers in front of her. "Half of these are office records," she says. "Purchase orders and autopsy schedules. There's no reason for Jensen to have them, he's not in charge of any of this."
"Keep them out," Jared says. Jensen's email is full of secure files from Westwick; there are employee lists for the museum and the free clinic, files on the victims, and a couple of police reports about medical record thefts.
"He was cross-checking," Jeff says, pulling up a chair behind Jared. "Looking for any overlap."
Just after midnight, when Jared's on his eighth cup of coffee and the screen's starting to blur, Jeff shoves a paper across the table at him. Kristen's letting the dogs out and picking up food, so Jared almost jumps; Jeff's quiet enough that Jared almost forgot he was there.
"Something's not right about this purchase order," he says. "These are sedatives, and we work exclusively with dead bodies. The ME's office wouldn't need these."
"Could they be for someone on staff?" Jared says, but Jeff's still staring at it.
"Prophylactics, maybe, if you encountered something while working with a corpse," Jeff says, "but not anesthetics. Lehne signed off on it, I could go ask."
Something doesn't feel right, and underneath the fog of caffeine and exhaustion, Jared's instincts are kicking over into full gear. "Wait a minute," Jared says, when Jeff pushes back from the table. "Where's the list of employees for the dental clinic?"
Jeff pulls it up on Jensen's laptop. "None of these names cross check with the Field Museum access list, aside from Beaver," he says. "We've run that scan three times."
"Is there -" Something's nagging at Jared, and it takes him a minute to remember the telephone directory lying on Jensen's desk. It's in a box with the journal articles Kristen found, and he pulls it out, sliding it across the table to Jeff.
"Start reading off free clinics near West Dental," he says, and Jeff thumbs through until he finds the right page.
"There are only two in that neighborhood," he says. "West Medical Services and Dennison Family Clinic."
West Medical Services doesn't even have a web page, just an online yellow pages listing, but the Dennison Family Clinic has its own site, complete with a list of practicing and consulting physicians. Six names down, in tiny print, there's an F. Lehne, consulting, courtesy of the city of Chicago.
"Jesus christ," Jared says.
"He has museum access," Jeff says. "They have to transfer any unidentified skeletal remains to storage at the Field, so he has security clearance." Jeff passes over the access list. "High level security clearance. He can get into any part of the museum."
"He's a doctor, he's -" Jared says, feeling sick. "He's been all over this investigation."
"He wasn't here today," Jeff says.
"I'll get - I need backup," Jared says, managing to get to his feet. "Call Kristen."
The next day and a half are the longest of Jared's life. Lehne's office is empty, all but a few current case files cleared out, and there's no one in his apartment. The evidence is there, though, and Jared spends ten minutes heaving into the bushes when he finds the medical records, the faces behind the skeletons spread out in the lab. Jared can't handle the idea of Jensen becoming one of them.
The problem is, Lehne is just like a ghost; there's no record of his car, no credit card usage or convenience store footage, and by the third day, Jared can't stop running statistics in his head. He's worked kidnappings, and the first forty-eight hours are critical; past that, the probability of finding someone alive starts to sink exponentially. Jared's checking the credit card tracer for the twentieth time, back from interviewing Lehne's entire apartment building, when Lee ducks into the command center.
"Lehne's brother has a storage unit near Oak Park," she says. "The owner has security footage of Lehne's car entering the complex three days ago, and he's been back a couple times since. Let's go."
Intellectually, Jared knows that the signs are good - nobody keeps going back to a dead body, and Jensen's worth more to Lehne alive than dead. The drive over is still terrifying, and for a long minute outside of the storage unit, Jared can't bring himself to open the door.
"Jared," Lee says, and it only takes a second for Jared to realize that the possibility of getting Jensen out alive outweighs anything he might see.
"Let's go," he says, and Westwick tries the lock with a pair of bolt cutters, but nothing happens. Jared finds crow bar in one of the FBI suburbans and just pries the goddamned lock loose, pulling the door a few feet off the ground. Jared takes Lee's flashlight and rolls underneath it, too focused to really pay attention to slicing his hand open on the edges of the padlock.
For a minute, he thinks there's nothing, just furniture stacked all across the front of the unit, dusty underneath his flashlight beam, but then he hears something. It's dark, and maybe too close to fire, but Jared keeps a hand on his gun just in case.
"Hello?" he says, and behind a couple of antique chairs, he sees something move. It takes a minute to place what he's seeing as someone's feet, underneath a wrought iron bed.
"Jared?" Jensen manages, finally, and Jared stands up fast and shoves aside the chairs, falling to his knees.
"Are you hurt?" Jared says, because he can't see and Jensen's not moving. He hears a soft, hysterical laugh.
"Just tied under here," Jensen says, his voice hoarse and broken. "Don't push the bed, I'll go with it."
Jared gets down on his stomach, quickly guiding the flashlight off Jensen's face when Jensen winces, and pulls his knife out, sawing through the plastic restraints holding Jensen's left wrist to the bed.
"Jared?" someone yells from outside, and Jared rubs at Jensen's hand. It's too pale, but Jensen winces again when Jared touches it, so he moves on to Jensen's ankle.
"Call 911," he yells, "and get the damn door open."
"I'm fine," Jensen says, and Jared doesn't even dignify it with a response. The top of the bed is covered in dust, but the other side is free except for a chest, which Jared pushes aside so he can get to Jensen's other wrist.
"Can I move the bed?" Jared says, tightly, when all the plastic restraints are cut off.
"Just go slowly," Jensen says, and he rolls out as Jared stands up and pushes the bed aside.
"Hi," Jensen says, covered in dust and god knows what else and too pale in the dim light of Jared's flashlight, and Jared kneels and pulls him in close.
"I got you," he says, quietly. "I -"
"Yeah," Jensen says, grabbing on to Jared's jacket, "yeah, I - god, I know."
Jared's pulled enough people out of really dangerous situations over the course of his career to know what kind of reaction to expect, but Jensen shuts up after that. His grip on Jared stays firm until the ambulance pulls up and the paramedics take him, but he stops talking. He's quiet, too quiet, and Jared comes back from getting five stitches put in his palm in the second ambulance and sits on the ground next to the rear tire, trying not to think of all the things that could be wrong.
"Jared?" Jensen says, finally, just out of sight, and Jared ducks past the paramedics milling around outside of the ambulance and climbs in the back.
Jensen has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and an IV in one arm, still damp from the makeshift shower some of the paramedics rigged up, and he's shaking, hard enough that Jared knows it doesn't have anything to do with cold. He looks confused and exhausted and more than a little afraid, and Jared's never needed anything more than he needs to touch Jensen again, right now, more than he needs to make sure he's okay.
"Right here," he says, and sits down beside him on the seat, spreading a palm out against the small of Jensen's back, and Jensen turns and leans into him.
"Oh, god," he says, and Jared lets him push in close, his face up against Jared's shoulder, hands in Jared's FBI jacket again, and just keeps him there until his breathing evens out, starting to match Jared's, slowing until Jared realizes he's starting to fall asleep.
"Hey," he murmurs, "I think they'll let you go home tonight, if you want to."
"Don't have my car," Jensen murmurs, sleepily, and Jared tries not to laugh.
"I think we've got it covered," he says.
Jensen's asleep when Kristen climbs in through the front of the ambulance.
"They said he's clear to go as soon as the IV fluids are done, as long as he gets his shoulders checked tomorrow, so Jeff's ready to take him," she says, and Jared only realizes how tight his grip has gone on Jensen when he feels him start to wake up.
"No," Jared says. He can dismiss the voice in the back of his head that's telling him that Jeff and Kristen can't possibly keep Jensen safe, but he can't push away everything else, and Jared knows himself well enough to be pretty damn sure that he won't let Jensen out of his sight, at least not tonight.
Jared's used to Kristen reading him, but she doesn't even look at him, just at Jensen. "He wouldn't let them give him an IV until Jeff made sure someone was looking at your hand," she says, like she's trying not to laugh. "We're just going to give you a ride to your apartment and come back in the morning."
"Oh," Jared says, abruptly feeling like an idiot.
"Try to actually let him get some sleep tonight," Kristen says, actually laughing now, and Jared finally gives in to relief and lets himself relax, even if he's not entirely positive what the hell Kristen's laughing about.
Jensen doesn't even wake up when the paramedic slides the IV out, and Jared has to fill out ten separate sheets of paper while Jeff gets him in the car. He notices Jensen starting to wake up half way through sheet seven.
"Sorry," he says to the paramedics, "I'll bring it back," and fills out the last three sheets on the inside window of the car with the door open, leaning close enough that he can press his hip against Jensen's side. He's almost positive it's all illegible anyway - Jared's never been all that great at writing with the wrong hand.
"You're stubborn," Jensen murmurs, watching him, and Jared rolls his eyes.
"I'm sticking it to the medical system for all this paperwork," he says, and Jensen laughs. Jared feels himself starting to relax.
It's a little weird when they're suddenly alone in his apartment and Jared remembers that Jensen hasn't really been speaking to him for a week, but Jensen just watches him cautiously for a minute, then holds out a hand from where he's lying on the couch.
"Come on," Jensen says, and Jared settles in behind him as Jensen turns the TV on, and keeps his face against the back of Jensen's shoulder until he can think again. He's grateful for the background noise, making everything less stupidly intense, and Jensen rolls over after a couple minutes with a tentative smile.
"I'm -" he says. "Uh. The last time I ate was three days ago."
"Jesus, sorry, I'll make you some dinner," Jared says, laughing, and almost knocks Jensen over in his haste to get into the kitchen. He heats up some soup from the freezer and when he comes back into the living room, Jensen's on the floor with the dogs, buried underneath them.
"Hey," Jensen says, looking suddenly uncomfortable, "I haven't been home -"
"It's cleared," Jared says. "We've got agents posted there. I didn't check it myself, but," he passes over the bowl, sliding down beside Jensen. "I haven't been home either. I didn't really think about -"
"Uh, Jay," Jensen says, nudging his shoulder against Jared's with a grin. "I was tied underneath a bed for three days, can you hold off until I'm done with the soup?"
"Asshole," Jared says, affectionately, and watches the rest of Jeopardy with Jensen leaning against his side. It should feel weird, too normal, but Jared knows that it sometimes takes people a while to come to terms with trauma, and that normality is the best he has to offer right now.
"I wasn't that scared," Jensen says, finally. "I know I should have been, but - I didn't think he was going to kill me, and I knew -" Jensen's watching Sadie sleep, looking anywhere but at Jared. "I knew you'd find me."
"Yeah," Jared says, voice rougher than he wants it to be. "I'd have turned over Chicago."
"It was different," Jensen says, finally. "We deal with death every single day, dead people every single day, but this - it was different, I was - I would have fought for it."
"Yeah," Jared says, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes closed, because that's the difference; Jensen dying wouldn't have been another case, another victim. "I - that night, I'm sorry, I thought -" Jared swallows. "We could have been looking sooner if I'd trusted you."
"It wouldn't have made a difference. I kept thinking -" Jensen laughs, softly. "You didn't even know I wasn't mad at you. I thought maybe Jeff would tell you, if anything happened."
Jared's always been good at knowing what to say, how to comfort people, but here, he doesn't have the faintest idea, and the thought of Jensen shutting him out again is almost too much to handle. "I don't even know -" he says. "I'm sorry for not telling you."
"No, I was -" Jensen trails off for a second, and when Jared looks up, he realizes he's flushed, shifting like he's not sure. "I should tell you something, but it's not - you don't have to worry about it."
"Okay," Jared says, cautious, and Jensen buries his hands underneath Sadie's collar and doesn't look at him.
"I didn't know," Jensen says, "that you were interested in men at all, and it was - easier when I thought you were straight, I thought I'd just -"
Jensen breathes out, slowly, and Jared lets him finish. "I wasn't mad at you, I just couldn't watch you with somebody else."
"Somebody else," Jared says. Jensen's cheeks go an even deeper shade of red.
"Jealousy is a biological imperative, it's hardwired," he says, "and I - I like you, so it's logical that -"
Something clicks, in the back of Jared's head, and he's abruptly aware of all the signs he hasn't been paying attention to, how Jensen's been, the past few months, and Jared knows he should say something, but he suddenly knows what the unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling under his skin every time Jensen gets too close is, why his stomach drops out every time Jensen smiles at him a certain way, and why he's sleeping better than he has since college and dealing with an overwhelming compulsion to learn every bone in the human body. Jared's never fallen in love without noticing before, but laid out in front of him, it's obvious.
"I can go," Jensen says, finally, and Jared knows exactly what he wants, but he doesn't have the faintest idea how to tip this thing over, or even whether he's ready to do it, so he leans his forehead against Jensen's shoulder and wraps a hand around his wrist. He feels too tight in his own skin, unsure, but he knows a hell of a lot better than to let Jensen think he's upset about the idea.
"No," he says, and climbs to his feet, keeping his hand against Jensen's wrist for a second. "Come on."
Jared's half way through making the coffee when Jensen comes into the kitchen. It's instant, not the greatest, but Jared needs something to do with his hands.
"Hey," Jensen says, quiet, leaning up against the kitchen table. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Jared murmurs, and lets himself step forward into Jensen's space, spreading his palms out across the table on either side of Jensen's hips. It's easy, way less tense than it should be, and when Jared meets Jensen's eyes, he realizes he's really over thinking the entire conversation.
"I like you back," he admits. "I'm just not used to it yet."
Jensen's face warms, until he's close to smiling. "And I'm so familiar with falling for FBI agents," he says, sliding a hand up to the back of Jared's neck, and Jared lets his head fall forward and his eyes close, just breathing.
Jensen doesn't say anything for a few minutes, in close, but Jared feels it when he starts to pull away.
"I should -" Jensen says, letting his hand fall, reaching up to nudge Jared back. Jared doesn't let him finish the sentence, just closes his hands in Jensen's shirt, pulls him in, and kisses him.
Jared's not expecting it to be heart stopping - it's just a kiss - but there's a moment in the first press of Jensen's mouth underneath his where something falls into place. He's seen Jensen kiss, thought about the abstract once or twice, and in the past ten minutes, his mind's gone a hell of a lot further, but he's not entirely prepared for the heat that flares in his stomach and settles in everywhere else. It's good, heated and a little deeper than Jared means for it to go, but the awareness of just how close Jensen's standing hits him hard, and he's suddenly too distracted to really hold the kiss.
He's never thought about sex with Jensen, but Jared's mind has enough information to put together a pretty clear picture of what it would be like, and he can't stop the thought process. Jensen's hands are steady on his hips, warm, and Jared feels his whole face heat when he follows that train of thought to its logical conclusion. His heart's racing, his hands too tight on Jensen's shoulders, and he's half-hard from just a kiss. Jared's tense, abruptly embarrassed, and he's still trying to figure everything out when Jensen takes his hand and pulls him toward the living room. They're stretched out on the sofa before Jared can think about it, Jensen lying on top of him, and he almost stops breathing until Jensen eases onto his side, putting some distance between them, and spreads his palm out against Jared's shoulder.
"Hey, relax," Jensen says, and the soft kiss he presses up against the curve of Jared's jaw startles him.
"Sorry," Jared manages, and his hands unsteady against Jensen's side.
"Your pupils are completely dilated," Jensen says, laughing softly, and wraps a hand around Jared's ribcage. "And your heart rate has got to be over a hundred. I was trying not to add any more adrenaline to your system, but you -" Jensen grins, looking dazed and kind of pleased, and it goes a long way toward calming Jared down to realize that Jensen's happy because of kissing him. "You're just impatient."
"I meant it, that I liked you," Jared says, watching Jensen's face, and it's easy to find exactly what he needs in the curve of Jensen's smile.
Jensen doesn't say anything for a minute, just strokes his palm down Jared's side, back and forth until Jared actually starts to relax. "You want to try that again?" he murmurs, finally, and it's somehow okay to lean up on his elbows and meet Jensen for another kiss.
Jensen slides his hand up to cup Jared's face, spreading his fingers out against his jaw, and licks into Jared's mouth, soft pressure and heat. The kiss never really ends, just lasts until Jared can't breathe and then slides over into Jensen exhaling against his lips, starting all over again. Jared pulls Jensen down, closer, with a hand against the back of his neck, and grins when Jensen finally breaks the kiss to laugh.
"This really wasn't what I was expecting tonight," Jensen says, face against Jared's shoulder, like he's trying to muffle laughter, and Jared realizes that Jensen's spent the past few days just as scared as he was.
"Yeah," Jared says, grinning, and pushes Jensen until Jensen's stretched out on top of him, hands tangled in Jared's shirt. "I know you only came over here for the pizza."
"Which I notice you haven't provided," Jensen points out, nudging his nose against Jared's jaw, and Jared laughs again and relaxes, all at once.
"Play nice and I'll get you another bowl of soup," he says.
Jensen doesn't say anything back, face up against Jared's neck, and it takes Jared a minute to realize that Jensen's muffling a series of yawns against his collar.
"Soup sounds good," Jensen says, finally shifting for another kiss, and Jared breaks it off and laughs when Jensen yawns against his mouth.
"Hey, as much as I like making out on the couch," Jared murmurs, reaching to wrap a hand around the back of Jensen's neck. "You've got to be exhausted. Bed?"
Jensen grins. "So all those rumors about you putting out before the first date -"
"You wish," Jared says, laughing, and pushes Jensen off to go lock up.
Jensen's in the shower when Jared gets back from letting the dogs out and turning out the lights, and the fact that he's gotten something like six hours of sleep in four days hits him all of five seconds after he sees the bed. Jared doesn't even bother to find something to sleep in, just throws his clothes somewhere in the vicinity of the dresser and remembers to crack the door for the dogs. He's almost asleep when Jensen climbs into bed and settles in against his chest, and Jared barely manages to get an arm around him before he's totally and completely under.
Jared wakes up early to Sadie whining at thunder. Jensen's still passed out in the other half of the bed, sprawled out over the blankets, and Jared covers him up again and finds a leash for the dogs. It's raining too hard to really walk them, so Jared lets them out and shuts the bedroom door before Harley can get any bright ideas about soaking the bed.
He's half way through his first cup of coffee, staring absently out the kitchen window at the rain, when he feels Jensen's hands on his shoulders.
"Hey," Jared says, leaning back against Jensen's chest, hands still wrapped around his coffee mug, and lets his eyes close when Jensen kisses the curve of his neck.
"Come back to bed," Jensen suggests, voice lower than Jared's used to, close enough that he can feel it against his skin.
"Yeah, okay," Jared agrees, hoarsely. The entire idea of it is stuck somewhere in his chest, making it hard to breathe, because Jared's been in love before, or at least he thought he had, but he's never felt about anyone the way he feels about Jensen. He's never wanted anyone like this, desire like a solid hit to the solar plexus, a feeling that could knock him out if he let it get that far.
Jensen doesn't wait for him, but he's stretched out across the bed when Jared nudges the bedroom door open. He's wearing a pair of Jared's pajama pants, too long and barely covering his hips, and Jared gets stuck for a minute at the door. He can't bring himself to look away long enough to cross the room.
"It's okay," Jensen murmurs, low, and Jared gets there, because that's really not the issue.
He goes down hard onto the bed, no pretense, moving so Jensen's spread out underneath him and they're tangled up together. Jared runs his hands up Jensen's chest, trying to get used to all that skin, and Jensen tangles a hand in his hair and pulls him down for a kiss. It's messy and uncoordinated, Jensen's hip digging into his stomach, his grip too tight, but it's good, and it only takes a minute before Jared laughs and relaxes into it.
"Hey," he murmurs, warm, and Jensen leans up, sliding his free hand underneath Jared's t-shirt to stroke across his lower back.
"Finally," Jensen says, and Jared leans back just long enough for Jensen to pull his t-shirt over his head, following it up with his hands. Jared's not expecting it when Jensen pushes up and over, pressing him back down into the bed with a grin, but Jensen's weight is solid, grounding, and when Jensen spreads a hand out against his jaw and tilts his face up, Jared goes with it.
It only takes Jared a couple of minutes to realize that Jensen's a little bit of a tease. They're trading slow, deep kisses, ones that leave Jared following Jensen's mouth back with his own every time Jensen breaks for air, his shoulders up off the bed, and every time Jensen slides his hands over Jared's skin, spread open and warm, Jared thinks maybe it's going somewhere, but it doesn't happen. It's been a long fucking time since he just made out in bed, and Jared's so caught up in it that he barely notices when Jensen relaxes down onto him.
Jensen strokes a hand up and down Jared's side, easy, fingers nudging over his stomach, and Jared's arching up into the pressure before he can think about it, breathing hard between kisses. Following Jensen's touch is instinct, but the sudden rush of warmth when Jared pushes his hips up is incredible, almost startling. Jared wraps a leg around Jensen's hip and repeats the motion, rubbing up against Jensen's stomach, and Jensen leans down and kisses him, stretching out, slow friction exactly where Jared wants it.
"Feel good?" Jensen murmurs, and when Jared looks up, flushed, he looks self-satisfied, warm and too amused for his own good.
"Jackass," Jared manages, and when Jensen grins, he goes from half-hard to all the way just like that, rocking his hips up against Jensen's stomach involuntarily. He's suddenly embarrassed, all too aware of exactly how many layers of clothing are between them. Jared's thinking about pulling back when Jensen makes a soft noise and leans in.
"Hey," he says, "stop thinking so hard," and kisses him. Jensen spreads a hand out against the small of his back and presses in close, keeping Jared's hips pinned between his hand and his stomach. Jared can't help the noise he makes against Jensen's mouth, because jesus, it's not exactly a fair trick.
There's pressure exactly where he wants it, and Jensen moves just enough that Jared's cock is pressed up between the curve of his hip and his stomach. Jensen's stomach muscles go tight when Jared's hips stutter up, and when Jared exhales, unsteady, Jensen lifts a hand from Jared's hip to his face, forcing Jared's jaw up until Jared can't look anywhere else. Jared's not the kind of guy who likes to turn the lights off, but Jensen watching him like this is almost too much, exposed and more intimate than he knows how to handle.
"Jared," Jensen says, finally, and Jared breaks eye contact just long enough to realize he's almost smiling, the corner of his mouth pulling up in the exact same way that it does whenever Jared misses something that Jensen considers stupidly obvious.
"Hi," Jared says, mostly because he can't think of anything else, and when Jensen laughs, he's surprised to find his body relaxing involuntarily.
"Hi," Jensen says, and Jared watches him smile and realizes that there's probably nothing to be afraid of.
It's better, even, to watch the way Jensen's cheeks flush when Jared rubs up against him, and it takes all of twenty seconds for Jared to find a rhythm that feels unbelievably good. It's slow, easier than he's used to, mostly Jensen shifting down into the way Jared's rolling his hips, but it feels incredible, slow heat and building pleasure. He goes warm all over when Jensen kisses him again, open-mouthed and off center, and when Jensen licks along his lower lip and holds Jared steady with the hand he's got spread out against his lower back, he comes almost without thinking about it, in a wave that doesn't really end. Jensen runs his thumb across Jared's cheekbone, kissing him again, and it's good enough to feel like an aftershock, hot in the pit of Jared's stomach.
"Normally I try to get out of my clothes," Jared murmurs, when he can think again, trying not to laugh, and Jensen grins, cheeks still flushed.
"Technically, I shouldn't get naked with you until you buy me dinner -" he starts, and Jared shoves him, hard enough that Jensen falls over, laughing.
"Stop using your brute strength against me," he says, and Jared manages to hold off on tackling him until he can get undressed.
He falls down on Jensen hard, still laughing, and Jensen pushes back, starting to squirm.
"Unfair height advantage," he says, breathless, and Jared can't exactly miss the fact that he's flushed all over.
"Quit whining," Jared teases, rolling off to the side, and watches Jensen stretch out. Jared's never looked much, before, at least not consciously, but like this, Jared's suddenly struck with the knowledge that they're having sex, the kind of thing that best friends don't do, and that yesterday, Jared didn't know if he'd see Jensen again. Jensen's watching back, fidgeting just enough that Jared knows he's feeling self-conscious, but it's not an awkward pause. Jared isn't reconsidering, isn't having second thoughts, and for the first time in longer than he can remember, he doesn't feel rushed or uncertain. This isn't going to be the only time they do this, and the thought is reassuring.
"I'm starting to feel like I'm fifteen again," Jared says, reaching to slide his palm across Jensen's stomach, and Jensen jumps before he relaxes and leans into the touch.
"I can't believe I'm having sex with someone who was getting laid in high school," Jensen says, and Jared grins, still stroking small circles with his fingertips.
"Helps if you like girls," he says. "Also, the speaking english thing is a plus."
"I speak english," Jensen protests.
"Yeah, secretly," Jared teases, grinning, and when Jensen starts to laugh, Jared settles in against his side and slides a hand down into his pajamas. Jensen goes tense, startled, and Jared realizes he's probably moving too fast and gives him time to get used to it, nudging kisses along the curve of Jensen's jaw.
"Sorry, just - relax," Jared murmurs, pressing his mouth against Jensen's shoulder, and surprisingly, Jensen listens, leaning up against him.
Jared wraps his hand around Jensen's cock, taking a minute to let Jensen relax into his touch, to map out the heated weight of it. Jared catches Jensen's shaky exhale and the soft noise he makes when Jared readjusts his grip, cataloging them both, and settles his forehead against Jensen's collarbone. Clavicle, Jared thinks, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, he's willing to let this go really damn slow.
Jensen turns his head, just enough that he can press his nose against Jared's jaw, and closes his hands around Jared's shoulders. "It's been a while," he says, still sounding unsteady, and Jared kisses the hollow of his throat.
"Yeah," he says, tightening his fingers and rubbing his thumb just beneath the head until Jensen inhales again. "But I might just be willing to let it slide."
He feels Jensen smile before he turns his head to look, and when their eyes meet, Jared stops bothering to look at Jensen's mouth. "Thanks, asshole," Jensen says, sliding a hand up to run his fingers through Jared's hair, and Jared lets his head fall again, breathing into the warm curve of Jensen's neck.
"I don't do this," Jared admits, still barely stroking with his fingertips, and Jensen lifts his hips into the touch and smiles again.
"Me either," he says, "but I want to."
Jared's kiss is half off, almost missing Jensen's mouth, and Jensen's soft laugh when he wraps a hand around the back of Jared's neck and pulls him down is everything Jared needs to be sure.
"Stay up here," he suggests, finally, taking his hand back so he can put his thumbs in Jensen's waistband and get him significantly more naked. Jensen laughs again as Jared slides down, burying a hand in his hair.
"You better not think that counted toward second base," he says, sounding warm and almost drowsy, and Jared bites a little at his hipbone in retaliation.
"Overrated," he murmurs, stretching out, and licks up the underside of Jensen's cock, hard against his stomach.
Jensen doesn't say anything, but his hand goes tighter in Jared's hair, and the noise he makes when Jared rubs his mouth up against the head suggests that it's possible Jared's managed to shut him up for good.
Jared explores, kissing down the shaft, shifting enough so he can cup Jensen's balls in his free hand, but Jensen's breathing slides over to really damn uneven fast, and Jared's never been all that into teasing. Jensen jerks up when Jared swallows him down, hard enough that Jared has to get a forearm across his lower belly just to hold him in place.
"Jay," Jensen says above him, desperately, "Jared."
Jared wraps a hand around the base and slides up and down a couple of times, until everything's slick and easy, just the way he wants it. Jared makes a low, warm noise in the back of his throat, just enough vibration that he knows Jensen can feel it, then lets his cheeks hollow out and starts to suck. Jared's more than willing to keep at this for a while, but a couple seconds after he runs his tongue over the ridge, Jensen closes a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm," he says, "jesus," and Jared pulls back and jerks him the rest of the way through it, until Jensen stops breathing and comes between them, hand still tight against Jared's skin.
"Nice aim," Jared says, finally, grinning, and wipes his shoulder off on the sheets.
"So swallow next time," Jensen replies, shoving at Jared.
"I'm just not that kind of prom date," Jared says, and Jensen laughs as Jared slides back up for a kiss, settling in on top of Jensen.
Jared's more than happy with the idea of never moving again, especially when Jensen pulls the comforter back up and slides an arm around his shoulders.
"Coffee?" Jensen murmurs, wrapping his palm around Jared's shoulder, and Jared shakes his head, already drowsy.
"You should sleep," Jared says.
He takes Jensen's soft, sleepy noise as something like agreement, and five minutes later, he's almost under when he hears the front door open and feels Jensen tense underneath him. Jared doesn't even have to think about it; he's got the gun off the bedside table in under five seconds. He's considering his next move when he recognizes Kristen's voice, and Jensen's face becomes an entirely different kind of horrified.
"Please tell me you weren't stupid enough to give Kristen your keys," Jensen says, and Jared puts the gun back onto the bedside table and leans off the edge of the bed in an attempt to find his boxers.
"She was feeding the dogs," he says, then freezes when the bedroom door swings open.
"Rise and shine," Jeff says. "We brought at least fifteen breakfast sandwiches, so I hope you're -"
"Hi," Jared says.
"I'm really regretting not knocking right now," Jeff says.
"I can't imagine why," Jensen says. "Please just get out before Kristen -"
"Is Jensen being a pain in the ass?" Kristen says, from somewhere in the hallway. "Come on, Jeff, you know he won't get up unless -"
"Hi," Jared says.
"So we're going to go wait in the kitchen," Jeff says. "Now."
"But -" Kristen says.
"Now," Jeff says, and pulls the door firmly shut behind him.
"Well," Jared says. "I guess that eliminates that particular awkward conversation."
Jensen buries his face in his hands, and Jared's on the verge of becoming seriously concerned when he realizes Jensen's trying to muffle laughter.
"Oh my god," he says, and then gives up and laughs so hard Jared's afraid he's not getting enough oxygen.
"You okay?" Jared says, when he's pretty sure Jensen is done, and leans in to press his forehead against Jensen's temple.
"It's just - normal," Jensen says. "It's really normal."
"Yeah," Jared says. "Yeah, I know."
"Thank you," Jensen says, finally, leaning until he can press their foreheads together. "Just - thank you. For -"
Jared kisses him before he can say anything else, drawing it out until he's at least reasonably certain Jensen's not going to keep trying.
"Let's go eat," Jared says, nudging his nose against Jensen's one last time.
"Okay," Jensen says, then smiles. "Wouldn't want to keep the fifteen breakfast sandwiches waiting."
After breakfast, when Jared calls to let Katie know he won't be coming in, she doesn't sound particularly surprised.
"We've had agents posted at the front entrance to your building all night," she says. "Jensen's house too."
Jared's on the balcony, watching Jensen in the living room with Kristen and Jeff. He's laughing, but he looks exhausted, and Jared slides the door shut with his hip, leaning back against the railing.
"You think he's coming back," Jared says, matter of fact, and he hears a long pause.
"Zach thinks so," Katie says.
"I think we should do this on our terms," Jared says, finally. "And I'm giving Jensen my M&P 9. He knows how to use it."
"We've got six agents posted," Katie says.
"If it were Lee?" Jared says, quietly.
"Yeah," she says, finally. "Give him the gun."
A few hours later, Jensen flips off the ESPN and rolls over. Jared's behind him on the couch, trying to ignore the way his hand is persistently throbbing.
"Round two?" he teases. "Who knew you were so into hockey."
"Shut up," Jensen says, but his smile fades. "You should be at work."
"That's gotta be the first time anyone's ever said that to me," Jared jokes, but he wraps his hand around Jensen's hip, pulling him in.
"Seriously, Jared -" Jensen starts.
"I'm good right here," Jared says, firmly.
Jensen meets his eyes for a minute, then buries a hand in his t-shirt. "I was hoping," he admits, looking away.
"We'll get him," Jared says. "He's going to slip up, get careless. They always do."
"That's not good enough," Jensen says, quietly. "I'm - I can't stay within six feet of you forever."
"That's why I've got a plan," Jared says, and pulls Jensen back against him, turning the game back on.
That night, Jared lets Jensen close his hands in his coat and pull him in for a fourth or fifth kiss, standing on Jensen's front porch. The FBI agents sitting on the front steps look amused, which Jared's starting to consider tacit approval of their current breech of partnership protocol. Jared knows how to be discrete, knows how to keep a relationship under wraps, but here and now, not kissing Jensen goodnight seems like the worst thing he can think of.
"It's going to be fine," he murmurs, against Jensen's mouth, with a smile that's more sure than he feels. "I'm just going in for a couple hours. They've swept the house, you've got six agents."
"Heigl's definitely a better shot than you," Jensen says.
"You're in good hands," Jared says, cupping Jensen's face for a second, pressing their foreheads together. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."
"Thanks," Jensen says, but he leans in for a final kiss and reaches behind him to pull open the door, pulling Jared's FBI jacket tighter around himself. "You've got the spare key?"
"Right here," Jared says. "Home before midnight."
Jared takes the front steps nice and easy, lifting a hand to the agent at the back door, and climbs into the Altima, tossing his coat in the passenger seat. The kevlar is more than warm enough. Jared's really not planning on getting shot again - one broken rib is more than enough - but Jensen insisted, and even Jared wasn't stupid enough to disagree.
Westwick and Lee are waiting around the block to switch cars.
"A volvo?" Jared says. "Seriously?"
"You said nondescript," Westwick says, defensively, and Lee laughs and hands over the keys.
"Don't try braking too quickly," she says. "This thing wasn't designed for any high speed chases."
"God, I hope not," Jared says.
Five minutes later, he backs the car into a driveway next to a minivan, kills the lights, and settles in to wait.
Over the years Jared's investigated crime in Chicago, he's found that a surprising number of houses and apartment buildings don't have basements. Whether it's a function of a high water table, cold winters, or backwards design principles, Jared doesn't really know, but Jensen's, custom built in the late 1990s, is technically no exception. The house Jensen's was built over, however, had an impressive root cellar. A trap door in the corner of Jensen's office, hidden under a layer of carpet, is its only connection to the house. The only connection out is a set of storm doors buried underneath Jensen's neighbor's rosebushes - Jared has the scratches to confirm that particular avenue of investigation - and so it's not hard to know where to look. Jared watches Katie take the ten o'clock sweep of the perimeter. It only takes another two minutes for a shadow to appear around the corner of the house next door, and the porch light is just enough to illuminate the faint shudder of the bushes.
Jared watches Lehne open the storm door, feeling his pulse pick up, and then watches it swing closed again. He counts to fifteen, slowly, then picks up his radio.
"He's in," he says. Twenty seconds later, he watches three agents open Jensen's neighbor's back door, guns trained on the doors. One bends to slide a crowbar through the handles - low tech but not ineffective - and Jared opens the car door, checks his gun, and heads for the house.
Setting this particular trap is all about timing; Jared hates the idea of Lehne in Jensen's house, their house, but the storm cellar is dark and tight, and Jared's not getting another agent shot out of squeamishness.
The front door isn't latched, and when Jared nudges it open, Katie's already in the hallway, her hands braced on her gun. She looks at him for a second then motions him forward; Lee's further down, almost into the living room, with Westwick on her other side. Over the silence, Jared can hear Jensen in the kitchen, on the phone with Jeff. It's only the knowledge that Jensen's faking it, surrounded by four FBI agents, that lets Jared ignore the fact that it's Lee and not him who's between the office and the kitchen.
Jared hears a thump, the rip of carpeting, and he braces himself further against the staircase, waiting. Fifteen seconds later, the door swings open, and Lehne takes a step forward.
"I wouldn't," Jared says, quietly, and the startled surprise on Lehne's face would be comical if they were anywhere else. He turns around fast, but the two agents in Jensen's office bathroom are already between him and the trap door.
"Put your hands above your head and drop the gun," Agent Cortese says, her assault rifle firmly trained on Lehne's chest. "Now."
Jared's not expecting the first shot, which sinks into the plaster somewhere above his shoulder, or the second, which hits him square in the chest. He hears the answering gunfire and lasts just long enough to see Lehne stagger and go down before he feels something heavy underneath his ribcage and everything goes dark.
He wakes up to Jensen crouched over him.
"Ow," Jared says, faintly.
"Just hold still," Jensen says, frantically. "We called 911."
"Jensen," Jared manages, and tries to sit up. It's not the best idea he's ever had, considering Jensen and four FBI agents all start yelling simultaneously and his entire chest suddenly feels like someone else tried to put another bullet into it.
He can see Lehne, lying in a pool of blood, and Jensen's white face, hovering.
"I think you should listen to him," Katie suggests. She's pale, too.
"Goddamn it," Jared says. "Why do I always get shot?" and passes out again.
When Jared wakes up for the first time in the hospital, there are three doctors bent over him, and he can't feel the vast majority of his chest. "Just count backwards from ten," someone says, and by the time Jared gets to eight, his entire body feels heavy.
When he wakes up again, a few hours later, the first thing he sees is Jensen, holding a set of x-rays up on a light board.
"Jensen," he hears, and watches Jeff put a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "He's stable. He's going to be fine."
"He's not awake," Jensen says, his face drawn. "He was supposed to be awake two hours ago."
Jeff laughs, softly. "He was under anesthetic for a couple hours, he's on a morphine drip, and in case you missed it, he's barely slept in the past week. Come get some coffee."
"Yeah," Jared says, drowsily. "And bring me back a cup."
"Hi," Jensen says, crossing the room to lean over the rail of Jared's hospital bed, reaching out to cup his face. Jared feels Jensen rub his thumb over his cheekbone and leans into it, watching relief wash over his face.
"Hi," Jared says. "You can't be mad, I was wearing my vest."
"You were going to stay in the car," Jensen murmurs, stroking his fingers through Jared's hair. "I'm going to be unbelievably pissed at you in the morning."
"That's okay," Jared says. "What happened?"
"You suffered blunt force trauma to -" Jensen pauses, then leans in to kiss Jared's temple. "Your fractured rib broke all the way through from the force of the gunshot, and the edges caused some internal bleeding. You were in surgery for a couple hours, but they repaired the damage."
"That was the worst stakeout ever," Jared says. Jensen puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place when he tries to sit up. "What kind of serial killer just shoots someone without - trying to get away or - some elaborate speech or something. Now we don't even have a motive. And I didn't even get to shoot him. I was going to shoot him. For kidnapping you."
"And I thought the vicodin was entertaining," Jeff says.
"Shh," Jensen murmurs, but he's smiling. "Go back to sleep, Jared."
Jared's going to protest - he's not tired, exactly, just drowsy - but he's out before he can really argue. When he wakes up again, it's the middle of the night; the hallway outside his window is dimmed, and most of the lights are off in Jared's room. Someone's warm against his side, and when Jared rolls over, he can see Jensen, reading with the book light Jared got him the month he had to take six red eye flights.
"I thought visiting hours ended at midnight," Jared says, still drowsy but clear headed, and Jensen sits up.
"They found me a cot," Jensen says. "I'm not supposed to be in bed with you, but I - couldn't sleep."
"It's okay," Jared murmurs, shifting to take the pressure off his chest, and nudges his shoulder against Jensen's. "What time is it?"
"Four?" Jensen says, glancing at his watch in the dim glow of the book light. "Four fifteen."
Jared reaches over and turns off the book light. "Come on," he says, and Jensen puts the book aside and slides down. Jared wraps an arm around him and listens to the soft hum of the monitors in the dark.
"You scared the hell out of me," Jensen says.
"I know," Jared says. "But I had to go in. I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."
Jensen laughs, softly, and Jared feels it when he tangles their hands together. "I'm really in love with you," Jensen admits, quietly.
"Me too," Jared says, pressing his face against the curve of Jensen's neck, eyes closing.
"It's a little terrifying," Jensen murmurs, softly. His fingers tighten, and Jared pulls him closer.
"I know," Jared says. "But I want - to move in to your house and have Jeff and Kristen over a couple of times a week and to have - you know, two point five dogs and a lawn I hate mowing and just - you."
"Two point five dogs is a scientific impossibility," Jensen says, but Jared can feel him smiling.
"Three dogs, then," Jared says, and Jensen laughs.
"Three dogs," he agrees, and Jared falls asleep smiling.
By the next afternoon, though, Jared's seriously beginning to consider breaking out of the hospital, since Jensen won't let him move. He's been sent to radiology three times, but Jared's doctor won't tell him if his release is imminent, and there's only so much bad television Jared can take. It's almost a welcome distraction when Special Agent In Charge Britton shows up at his hospital room.
"Dr. Ackles," she says. "Would you mind giving us a minute?"
"I'll go get some coffee," Jensen says.
"So," Agent Britton says, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Jared winces.
"How long?" Jared says.
"Excuse me?" she says.
"How long am I going to be suspended?" Jared says. He's startled when she laughs.
"Lehne was a trial run," she says. "We put you in charge to see how you'd handle the reins."
Jared winces again, and she leans back, propping her heels up on the plastic hospital chair.
"Admittedly," she says, "there were some issues. I'm going to have to cite you for becoming romantically involved with your partner, which I assume clouded your logic about using ten agents to investigate a storage locker with very little evidence, and let's just state for the record that we're all well aware you're never going to be an agent who goes through the proper channels for allocating people. But Special Agent Heigl has been leading the investigation of Lehne's house in your absence, and her findings have been - unsettling, to say the least."
"Jensen was the one who figured it out," Jared says, quietly, and Agent Britton smiles.
"Jensen figured it out under your leadership," she says. "This isn't common knowledge, Agent Padalecki, but I'll be taking over D.C. at the end of the month. That leaves a vacancy here. Heading this office involves a great deal of coordinating people, but you won't be entirely out of the field, before you attempt to lodge that particular argument again."
"I -" Jared says.
"Let me put it this way," she says, mildly. "You broke FBI protocol countless times, endangered innocent bystanders, and put one of our most valuable consultants at risk. I can suspend you, pending a formal investigation by the D.C. office that's unlikely to go in your favor, or you can take the promotion."
"I need to talk with Jensen," Jared says.
"This possibility has already been proposed to your partner," Agent Britton says. "He was… particularly unamused to learn of your failure to accept the D.C. promotion last spring. I believe you might not want to imply that you're considering not taking this one."
Jared's really not looking forward to that conversation, but the truth is that he already knows he won't be able to continue working as Jensen's partner. This time, though, there's not any danger of losing Jensen, so he holds out a hand.
"Thank you," Jared says. "I accept."
Agent Britton shakes it with a grin. "Confirmation in writing by the end of the week," she says. "I'd recommend Special Agent Meester for promotion into your office, and Jared?"
"Yes?" Jared says.
"I suggest you locate a very thorough secretary," she says. "I don't want to be handling your paper trail from Washington."
When Jensen comes back fifteen minutes later with two cups of coffee, Jared's still staring at the door.
"I think I just got blackmailed into a promotion," he says, faintly.
"For the record," Jensen says, "if you ever turn down a job because you don't like office work again, I'm going to be incredibly angry."
Jared blinks at him for a second, trying to put everything together, then laughs. "It wasn't because I don't like desk work," he says. "It was because it was in Washington."
"What, you had a serious problem with working with politicians?" Jensen says.
"No," Jared says. "I had a serious problem with leaving you."
"Oh," Jensen says. Jared swipes a cup of coffee from the bedside table.
"So apparently the FBI is still in need of a forensic anthropology consultant, since our last one broke protocol and started dating his partner," Jared says, finally. "Got any suggestions?"
"I guess I could think of a few names," Jensen says, grinning, and settles in at the end of the bed.
Three weeks later, Jared takes over Connie Britton's office and six boxes of evidence from Fredric Lehne's apartment. Jared's well aware that he could delegate, that Katie or Leighton could bag and process the photographs and journals, but in some ways, it's always been Jared's case, and he wants to see it through to the end. Most of the evidence isn't worth looking at, just credit card statements and Christmas cards, but there are carefully highlighted articles on things that make Jared shudder, and x-rays from the low cost health clinic where Lehne picked his victims. Worst of all are the photographs; hundreds of shots of the women whose bones are in storage at the Field, waiting for the official closure of the case. Jared knows their faces better than he's ever wanted to, and he's going to be glad when the last of the evidence is documented and the media frenzy fades so they can bury the women and put the evidence away.
Jensen and the new ME, Misha Collins, are matching the stray x-rays and copies of medical files to the bones. The last box is almost all of the files, paperwork and medical histories, just enough to demonstrate how Lehne picked his victims, so on a Tuesday afternoon in early April, Jensen's there when Jared pulls out the last of the files.
"Samantha Taylor," Jensen reads, flipping through the folder. He holds an x-ray up to the light pouring in through Jared's window. "Healed tib-fib fracture. We don't have this body."
There are photographs underneath the files - a smiling girl in her twenties. She's beautiful, blond, just like all the other photographs, and Jared's stomach sinks.
"One we didn't find?" Jensen says; they've already recovered two more bodies from the notes in Lehne's journals, and the idea of another victim is almost too much. Jared drops the photos back in the box.
"I'll check missing persons tomorrow," he says, reaching for his jacket. "Let's go home."
On Friday afternoon, Jared parks his car near the ME's office. "Come for a ride with me," he suggests, when he finds Jensen in his office, and Jensen looks at him for a long moment before he grabs his keys.
The drive over is quiet, easy, and when Jared parks his car at the end of a long row of houses, Jensen doesn't say anything, just shades his eyes against the late afternoon sun and follows Jared down the block. People are coming home from work, checking their mail and bringing in groceries, and half way down the street, a pretty blonde woman is playing catch with a little girl in the driveway. Jared pulls a photograph out of his wallet and passes it over, but he knows Jensen doesn't need to see it. Laughing on the front steps, she looks better, somehow, clearer.
"Sometimes," Jared says, "we win some."
When Jensen slips a hand into his, Jared smiles.
THE END.