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raeschaeTitle: Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . 4/7
Author:raeschae
Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Chad, OMC
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: Still just the language, which is probably a given by now but, ya know, I live life on the safe side.
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Especially the J's, who would totally be inked like they are in the graphic if I did. :)
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
There's a reason Jensen likes to stay in bed until well into the morning, or early into the afternoon. California's not exactly frigid in the mornings, but the thick layer of covers wrapped around his shoulders feels like a cocoon that he's not willing to withdraw himself from. Ever. Or, at the very least, until he absolutely has to.
If he believed in fate or destiny, he would have believed that he and Jared were meant to be the first morning they woke up together. See, Jensen loves his covers way too much to be any good at sharing, and Jared is kind of like his own heat source. He barely covers himself with a sheet most nights and still manages to radiate more warmth than the blankets themselves. So he lets Jensen have all of his covers, and they both wake up well-rested and happy with the arrangement.
It takes him a few minutes to realize that he's not alone in the bed when Jensen wakes up on Thursday morning. A few more to feel the arm draped over his stomach, and just a few seconds to comprehend the steady fall of breathing against the back of his neck.
“You're here,” he mutters, eyes still squeezed shut as he burrows his face into the pillow and his hip into Jared's thigh.
The only response he receives is a grunt and the press of Jared's lips against his shoulder.
It's the only explanation he'll get, and Jensen knows it. Jared's not one to discuss his feelings, and that's okay. Especially at . . . whatever time it is. The only thing that really matters is that Jared came back some time during the night, which means he probably spent a total of twenty minutes in TJ, if he ever made it to the border in the first place. Chad has a surf shanty down in San Diego, and it's far more likely that Jared parked his ass on the sand floor, drank a Corona, and then came home.
He probably wasn't thrilled to find Brayden's shoes still sitting by the front door when he stumbled in, but one thing at a time.
Jensen bolts upright in the bed and lets out a string of curses normally reserved for the moments just before he shoots off. “Brayden!” he finishes his litany as he rolls out of the bed and pulls his jeans on, stumbling out of their messy bedroom with another whisper of curses.
The guest room bed is made, albeit not so tidily, and there is no sign of the kid anywhere.
“Motherfucker!” Jensen calls out, turning back down the hall and running down the stairs. It's kind of a wonder he doesn't end up on his face in a heap at the bottom.
Brayden's shoes are gone from the front door and it's pretty obvious that the kid left at some point. During the night, or the morning, Jensen's not sure.
What is it that everyone's been saying from the get-go? Letting the kid stay with them is a bad idea? Clearly, his friends all know a shitload more than he does.
Jared's making his way lazily down the stairs, scratching his bare belly and carding his other hand through his disheveled hair. “You need to calm the fuck down,” he advises, smile of amusement on his lips.
“Calm down?” Jensen asks, his voice edging toward completely hysterical as he pulls at the short spikes of hair atop his head. “You want me to calm the fuck down? How in the fuck am I supposed to do that, Jared? Chris is gonna fuckin' kill me! I didn't even leave the house and I managed to lose the damn kid!”
Jared's eyes dance as he stops on the third step and leans his shoulder against the wall. “You didn't lose anybody,” he assures Jensen, who's eyes only double in size, if that's even possible. “Sandy took him to school a couple hours ago,” he adds.
The adrenaline and the panic don't really slow down as Jensen shrieks, “Why the hell would she do that?”
“Because I asked her to?” Jared says, all zen and calm in a way that pisses Jensen off. He continues past his boyfriend and through the entry toward the kitchen. “It's a whole long fuckin' thing, man, but Tom went to Mike's last night, and Mike called Danneel, who told Sophia. Chad called me, and I was already on my way back, so I just called Sandy and had her pick him up.” He shrugs as if it's no big deal.
And finally, finally, Jensen lets himself breathe. “Y'all knew I was gonna fuck it up and oversleep, didn't you?” Jared just shrugs, reaching for two coffee cups from the cabinet. “Man, I don't know what I was thinkin', but you were right. We have no business takin' care of a kid,” he shakes his head, guilt swimming in his gut at the fact that he would be totally sunk, were it not for the fucked up phone-tree of friends that they share.
“Actually,” Jared says, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on his fingers before returning to Jensen's face. “I was thinkin' about it. About the whole thing, and I think,” he stops and shakes his head, smiling in that easy way that only Jared can really smile. “I don't know, man, maybe it's all fucked up. Maybe we can only fuck the kid up more than he already is, but,” he stops and leaves the statement hanging, waits to see if Jensen catches up to the sentiment.
He does, and he's shaking his head vehemently. “No fuckin' way. It took me two hours, a hell of a lot of take out, and a video game marathon not even you would sit through just to make him talk to me. I'm not about to live with that level of awkward on a daily basis, okay? And the whole 'forgetting about him while I sleep' thing?” He swallows hard, and can feel his eyes growing wide at the sheer ridiculousness of this whole, fucked-up situation. “That's not good, Jay. Not to mention the panic when I thought he ran away! Fuck that shit, man. I ain't cut out for this shit, and you don't wanna be, either. Just,” he stops and shakes his head. “Fuck it all.”
Through Jensen's entire tirade, Jared just sits back and watches. He doesn't want to say I told you so, but it kind of applies. He did tell Jensen so, that they weren't cut out for this life. So why is it only slightly more annoying than amusing to see Jensen giving up? Throwing in the towel?
He's spent the whole of his adult life convincing himself that his past doesn't define him. That who he was has no bearing on who he is. He's tried to pretend, for the better part of the last ten years, that it doesn't matter that he grew up without ever really knowing his birth parents. That the only person who ever showed even marginal interest in him was the older son of one of his foster parents who taught him how to tattoo. And Jared kind of ended up teaching himself anyway, being as the kid was high off his ass and talking about how aliens were going to come back to Earth and save us all from Satan some day most of the time.
Jared has always needed to believe that none of that bull shit matters. That it never really did. That he's above it, and he's moved beyond it, and that being the random, mostly unwanted, house guest with a different bunch of strangers every few months had nothing to do with shaping him into the guy he is now. That the kid they all thought he was is nothing but dirt on the shoe of the guy he has become.
But the truth, as he realized it while flying 120 down the 5 last night, is that everything about the way he was raised contributed to who he is now. Everything he never wanted to become, and everything he wanted to prove that he could be is wrapped up in the way people saw him back then.
Nuisance.
Inconvenience.
Trash.
He was never the kid they wanted around, and nobody ever really cared what he was up to as long as he stayed out of their hair and they were able to collect their government check for being such great caretakers. Even when he tried to be in the way, he wasn't. Because they just didn't see him.
Invisible.
He got tired of nobody noticing him, of nobody asking how his day went or how his grades were. He got tired of nobody caring if he didn't take a shower for a week, or if his jeans were three inches too short. He got tired of disappearing into the background.
The tattoos make him visible. Even if people are scared of him, they definitely see him. Hanging out with celebrities ensures that he'll be seen. Even if nobody really knows his name and he's always credited as “. . . and friend,” his reputation is out there and people in high places recognize it. Though it's kind of a coincidence, hanging out with a group of people who are all shorter than he is also solidifies the idea that he can always be found in the crowd, that anyone can look up at any given moment and know exactly where Jared is.
He's always kind of known that stuff about himself, but never really admitted it. Until last night. And it wasn't so much the kid or any of that other stuff that made it crystal fucking clear, either. It was Jensen.
Because it's always Jensen. Since day one, it's been Jensen turning his head around and illuminating the darkened corners that he tries to forget. Jensen, who never says a word about Jared's past or anything else in Jared's life until he's ready to talk about it. Jensen, who just stands there and listens when Jared's stupid ideas take on a life of their own, or when his bitching is just this side of whining.
Last night, half way to Mexico, he realized that Jensen is right. Taking this kid into their home is the right thing to do. For Chris. For the kid. Hell, even for them, if he's honest with himself. Because they've always just kind of accepted that they'll grow old together, but there's always been this unspoken bond that they would never grow up together.
Jensen's voice echoed in his ears all the way down the coast. It's not my job. I choose to. Because my friends? That's all I've got. That's all we've got. And he might deny it now, seeing as he seems to be searching for the other head Jared clearly must have sprouted overnight, but Jensen was sounding pretty damn grown up last night.
Jared's pretty apathetic about anything outside of drawing, drinking, and fucking. The little boy locked away in the darkest parts of his psyche kind of runs his life, convincing him that caring about anything makes him that much more vulnerable to losing that something. But he can't help thinking that maybe Jensen's right this time. That maybe it's not the worst idea in the world to actually care about something outside of his own comfort zone and pleasure.
Of course, he came to that conclusion alone in the middle of nowhere last night. And now Jensen is taking something that Jared is ready to admit he needs, and he's ready to toss it aside like it doesn't mean anything. Like a fucking kid doesn't mean a goddamn thing. And Jared will be damned if he came to terms with all this emotional bull shit that he's been running from for a decade, just so Jensen can throw in the towel at the last minute. Fuck that.
“Option one,” Jared holds up a finger, voice holding no sway one direction or the other. “Tom takes him back. Great, except that Tom's wife kicked him out and now he's staying with Mike for the time being. And I think you and I both know what a great situation that's gonna be for the next little while.”
Jensen's face scrunches at the thought of Mike and Tom actually trying to co-habitate.
“Option two?” Jared raises another finger. “Sophia's pretty sympathetic to the kid, so I could probably get her to agree to take him. But she lives with Chad most of the time, and he's, like, the king of indescretion. Also, he has no qualms about offering alcohol to minors and taking embarrassing photos of them when they do stupid things like pass out with their faces in his dog's dishes.” Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but Jared just shakes his head. “Don't ask me, ask the high school girls at the pier.”
At this information, Jensen's eyes double, horrified.
“Option three? Um . . . Sandy? Danneel? Either or.” He rests his arms back against the counter and inclines his head as he considers the option. “Both good choices as far as maternal and organized, but really? We both know neither is going to be comfortable letting a hormone-laden junior high boy in their house. Even if either of them could kick his ass into next week if he ever tried anything.”
Jensen's brain runs through the options Jared has laid out so far. Danneel, Mike, and Tom are all out, which eliminates his own staff. Chad, Sophia, and Sandy pretty much take care of Jared's crew, too. “Genevieve?” he names the only one they haven't mentioned.
Jared shakes his head. “She'd probably chain him up in the back yard like a puppy and maybe take him for walks on the weekends. Besides,” he smiles fondly, “There's a pretty good chance she'd try to turn him into either a pot head or a lesbian, and I'm not entirely sure either is the way to go.”
Jensen shakes his head slowly. “So what you're telling me is that you and I are the best hope this kid has of surviving unscathed until Chris gets back?” He huffs a laugh. “The world is a fucked up place.”
“Oh, we're not,” Jared smiles, reaching out one long arm to draw Jensen into his personal space. “Mike and Chad are pretty much the only worse options than you and I in this whole scenario. We're just the most circumstantial choice at the moment.”
Circumstantial choice? Jensen wants to laugh, but instead presses his hand to Jared's mouth. “Stop talking,” he instructs, and Jared gladly dips his head to make better use of his lips.
Technically, they're supposed to be in Mexico. And even though everyone knows that Jared and Jensen are still in town, they don't bother going to their respective offices. The whole point of taking a day off was to unwind and spend a little bit of uninterrupted time together, after all. And being as they're going to let Brayden stay with them for an undetermined period of time, Jensen kind of figures they need to get as much noisy, nasty, dirty sex in as they can before he gets home from school. Not like he can fully utilize half the shit in the box under his bed while there's a kid sleeping down the hall.
“I'm goin' to the grocery store,” Jared announces upon entering Jensen's office, dressed only in a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops.
Jensen looks up from the sketch he's been half-heartedly working on since Jared passed out an hour and a half ago. Kid just can't hang sometimes. At least, that's how Jensen teases and prods him into another round most of the time.
“You know, they require shirts there,” he points to Jared's bare chest and can't help smiling at the bite marks and bruises dotting his skin. “I know it's been awhile since you stepped inside one, but . . . “
Jared just flips him off and pulls a white tee shirt from the back of his shorts. “I was gonna ask if you wanted anything specific, but fuck it now, man. You're eatin' what I buy.”
Which means that he'll be dining on frozen dinners and whatever candy Jared wants for the next however long his boyfriend stocks up for, but Jensen's okay with that. He's not really a picky eater, and it's not like they won't end up ordering in, or grabbing something on the way home anyway. “Make sure you get cereal or some shit for breakfast,” he reminds as Jared turns to leave the room. “And maybe some vegetables or somethin'? Those are s'posed to be good for kids, right?”
His shoulders are shaking when he stops short in the hallway. “D'you just tell me to buy vegetables? Seriously? You?” Jared looks over his shoulder and catches his lip between his teeth. “Man, look at ya . . . less than twenty-four hours and this kid's already got ya whipped into eatin' your broccoli. It's cute.”
Jensen throws a pencil across the room and Jared catches it easily. No satisfaction in that. “Go,” he points to the door and then back to his paper. “Be a good little housewife while the man of the house finishes his work.” Barely glancing up from his sketch, Jensen adds, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Think about brushin' your hair, too, wouldya? Wouldn't kill ya to put a little effort into bein' pretty for your family, ya know?”
Jared's growl is all that precedes him crossing the room and spinning Jensen in his chair. “You think you're funny, don't ya?” Jensen just leans back and smiles the most shit-eating grin Jared's ever seen in his life. “Fucker.”
“Yeah? Again?” Jensen asks, his hands trailing over the back of Jared's shorts as he moans into the kiss being dropped on his lips. Before things have a chance to go too far, though, he pushes Jared back and nods toward the door again. “Go if you're gonna go. He's gonna be back in a few minutes.”
With a resigned sigh, Jared stands and second-guesses his decision to let this happen in the first place. He knows there's a reason he said yes. He just can't really remember now that he's been cock-blocked by a kid he's barely even looked at. “Alright, fine,” he sighs, allowing his shoulders to sag as he slinks back toward the door. “You should probably clean the kitchen 'fore Soph brings him back, though.”
“What? Why?” Jensen's never cleaned a kitchen in his life. Why the hell should he start now?
Jared just shrugs and taps his fingers against the top of the door jamb as he calls back over his shoulder, “Cause I'm pretty sure cum stains on the floor are almost as traumatic as finding us fucking in your chair, dumbass!”
With a groan, Jensen lets his head fall back against his chair when he hears the door slam shut. They have a system, dammit. When it comes to sex, Jensen's in charge of cleaning accessories and Jared's in charge of cleaning locations. Jensen doesn't mop the floors because Jared decides to go buy their live-in house guest some fucking fruit roll ups. That's not the way it works.
His cell phone rings as he's elbows-deep in dishwater, trying to clean up the mess he made while cleaning up. “Yeah?” he barks into his blue tooth, only to hear a crackle and a pause on the other end. “What the . . . “ he stops when a slow, Southern drawl comes through the line.
“Can you hear me, man?” Chris's voice is there, like he's standing right beside Jensen.
“Now I can,” he answers without a greeting of 'hello' . . . doesn't need it with Chris. “Where are you, man? Still in Vegas?”
They talk about the tour for a few minutes, about the show and how Steve lost his place in a song last night because he was too busy flirting with some chick front row, stage left. Jensen thinks Chris sounds a little jealous, but he knows Chris well enough to know he'll never get an admission out of the older man, so he doesn't say anything.
“So,” Chris finally leads the conversation in the direction he intended the call to go, Jensen's pretty sure. “I talked to Tommy today.”
“Yeah,” Jensen nods.
Chris is quiet for a minute and Jensen's pretty sure he's going to tell him not to be an idiot. That he's in no shape to care for a child. Instead, he chuckles. It's an easy Chris sound that reminds Jensen of home in the best possible way.
“You sure, man?” Chris doesn't mention the fight they all overheard the other night, but he doesn't really have to. Jensen knows what he's getting at. “Cause, I mean, I know it's not exactly makin' shit easy at your place.”
Jensen shrugs his shoulders and tosses the dishtowel onto the counter. What time is Sophia supposed to be bringing Brayden by again? He thinks the kid gets out of school at three, but it could be three thirty or four. Or two fifteen, for all Jensen knows. “It's cool, man. You know I got your back, right?”
“I owe you one,” Chris says, voice intense and serious. “I mean, I barely know the kid, but I feel like we owe it to him, ya know? Like I do.”
He may play 'tough as nails' to most of the world, but Jensen knows the kind of commitment Chris feels to his family. Lindsay may be a ginormous fuck-up of epic proportions, but she's Chris's little sister, and that means something to him. Jensen doesn't come from a family who gets him, or even wants to, but Chris loves his. And even if he doesn't get it, he kinda loves the guy for it.
“It's cool, man. I mean, it's only for a couple weeks, right?” There's a long pause on the other end of the line and Jensen feels his heart speed up. They might be okay with Brayden staying until the end of the month, but longer than that is probably going to be a problem. “Chris?”
“Yeah, man, just a couple weeks,” Chris finally answers, but his voice is pretty much tipping Jensen off to something and he says as much. “I don't know. I mean, I've been talkin' options with Dave, and I'd have to postpone a couple shows to come back, but I'm thinking about filing for permanent guardianship.”
“Which is convenient for you, Chris,” Jensen says without thinking. He's not bitter – it's respectable that his friend wants to help. But his friend is also criss-crossing the country and leaving the rest of them to actually take care of the kid he wants to adopt. “Being as you're wherever the fuck you are.”
The silence that follows is thick with tension and Jensen hears another crackle. “Man, I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not making any definite decisions just yet, but . . . I'm just puttin' it out there as a possiblity, ya know?”
Jensen knows there's no point in arguing the matter any further, and he finds that he really doesn't want to. Instead, he says, “Look, I'll make sure he's all in one piece when you get back, okay? What you do from there is all on you.”
They're still talking about the band's next port-of-call when the front door bangs open and Chad announces his presence with a flourish of both arms thrown wide.
Jensen all but hangs up on Chris, dries his dishpan hands, and tosses his blue tooth onto the kitchen counter. “The fuck are you doin' here?” he asks, eyebrow raised as Brayden shuffles through the door behind the boisterous loud older man.
“A favor for you, dickweed. Be polite,” Chad snarks in return, grin on his full lips as he nods toward Brayden. “Soph got a last minute tribute for some grieving mother,” he rolls his eyes as though it's the most ridiculous thing ever.
Jensen casts a look at Brayden, who rolls his own eyes at the man who just dropped him off. He can't help smirking at the reaction. “Your compassion is overwhelming, douchebag,” he tells Chad, who just nods like he thinks so, too.
“Where's Jay?” he asks, letting himself further into the house.
Jensen just ignores him and makes his way across the entry to the place where Brayden is fidgeting near the door. “Dude, I'm so sorry about this morning,” he starts, but Brayden rolls his eyes again.
“It's cool,” he says, unaffected tone firmly in place.
Something in the tone tells Jensen that it's really not, but Brayden's trying to believe that it is, so he lets the subject go. Doesn't really have time to offer much else when Jared comes bursting through the kitchen door anyway.
Arms loaded with plastic grocery bags, he moves slowly toward the kitchen island and drops them in a pile, bottles and cans clunking against one another. “The fuck are you doin' here?” Jared mimicks Jensen's earlier question when he sees Chad peering into the empty refrigerator.
“The only thing you got in here's some Reece Cups, dude,” he answers and Jared huffs, rolling his eyes in Jensen's direction and causing Brayden to chuckle at Jensen's side.
“Get your ass out here and help me carry in the rest of this shit,” he commands.
Another one of those joyful, awkward silences fills the space between Jensen and Brayden and he can't help thinking about last night. When he thought that having Jared around would make things easier. Guess he was wrong.
“You have homework?” Jensen asks and Brayden just shrugs again. “Dude, you're here for, like, three weeks at least. You're gonna have to give me more than a fuckin' shrug occasionally, okay?” Anticipating the next move before it comes, he holds a finger up. “And eye rolls do not count as an alternative form of communication! Words,” he smiles and Brayden returns the look. “Words are good.”
“I'm stayin' with you guys?” he asks skeptically.
Jensen nods. “That okay with you?”
There's a nod and something that looks like hesitation, but Brayden kicks his shoes off and drops his backpack to the ground. “Can I finish my game from last night?” But he takes off before Jensen can demand he do his homework first, or remind him that Jared brought food. And then he realizes he's about to sound like his mother again, and he's kind of glad that Brayden's already gone.
With a sigh, he heads back into the kitchen to watch Chad and Jared stare at the mountain of food Jared brought home. “You leave anything at the store?” he asks, popping a grape into his mouth from the bunch sticking out of the bag on the end of the counter. Have they ever actually had grapes in their house? Jensen's pretty sure the answer is no.
The easy, trademark shrug that Jared gives him reminds him a little bit of Brayden, but Jensen doesn't say anything, Pretty sure that comment would strike up a conversation he doesn't want to have. “Like I know what the kid likes,” he excuses his actions and leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I barely know what you like and I been eatin' with you for the last three years.”
Jensen sticks his tongue out and Chad reaches into a bag to withdraw a package of Oreo cookies. “But you do know what I like!” he exclaims, tearing the bag open to stuff two cookies into his mouth before giving Jensen a dirty, black-toothed grin. “You're welcome, ya know,” he nods graciously.
“For what?” Jensen huffs, crossing the kitchen to help Jared put the groceries into various cupboards. There's a better than good chance they'll never find half of this stuff again, being as they rarely ever put anything other than dishes in the cabinets, but it seems like the domestically right thing to do.
“Taking time out of my busy schedule to pick your kid up from school,” Chad says, as though it should be obvious what a saint he really is. “You got milk?” he asks, searching through the bags.
Before Jensen can retort, Jared turns and rips the package from Chad's hands. “Get the fuck outta here, asshat,” he orders. “I'm on vacation. Not s'posed to have to look at your ugly mug 'til tomorrow.”
Chad gapes like a fish out of water. If fish had facial hair and a mouthful of Oreos. “I can't believe I take this goddamn abuse from you fuckers. Shit, try to do a guy a favor,” he mumbles to himself, flipping Jared off before turning and exiting with the same flourish he entered with.
“Do we need to have the conversation about choosing the right friends again, Jay?” Jensen asks when Chad has slammed the front door.
Jared just rolls his eyes and sets a jar of spaghetti sauce onto the counter. “Anyone who considers Tom Welling and Mike Rosenbaum friends? Doesn't get to question Chad,” he points out, smiling when Jensen rolls his eyes.
He doesn't protest when Jared pulls him forward by his belt loops and kisses him, quick and deep. “Do you know how to fix any of this shit you bought?” he asks when they finally part.
Eyebrow shooting up, Jared purses his lips and casts a glance around the mess they've made in unpacking the kitchen. “What do you think are the odds the kid knows how to cook? I'll pay him, so it's not, like, slave labor or whatever.”
For a second, he contemplates not even breaching the subject, but not talking to Jared about something that's bugging him is kind of impossible for Jensen. “You're not actually going to spend the next three weeks calling him the kid, are you?”
Jared winces and pulls back. See, the thing is, he's come to terms with the idea that having Brayden with them is the right thing to do. He's even accepted that maybe it's going to be good for them. But he just can't bring himself to form any kind of connection with the kid. Doesn't trust that things are going to work just yet, and doesn't want to feel the twinge of disappointment he used to feel when something that seemed good didn't work the way he wanted it to.
“Maybe,” is the only answer Jared gives before rolling his hip away from the counter and walking to the door of the kitchen. “HEY KID!” he calls out in exactly the way he calls to Jensen from the bedroom to the theater. No house needs an intercom if it's got a Jared Padalecki.
Brayden rounds the corner, sliding on the tile floor in his sock feet, eyes wide in something that looks like fear. Jensen thinks Jared should maybe apologize for putting that look on the kid's face, but he's not about to say it. Not right now.
“You hungry?”
Brayden's eyes dart to Jensen, like he's looking for permission to answer the question, so Jensen nods instead of launching into a diatribe about how the kid's welcome to speak as freely as he damn well pleases in this house. He and Jared do it all the time, after all.
When the kid nods, Jared mimics the gesture and walks to the freezer, pulling a frozen pizza out. “Pepperoni or cheese?” Brayden looks seriously unsure, and maybe still a little scared, but Jared thankfully seems to notice it this time. “How 'bout both?”
“That's great, Jay,” Jensen encourages, noting that his voice sounds a little too happy, and a little too forced, even to his own ears. “And what are you makin' for me and Bray?”
Jared rolls his eyes. “You're funny,” he teases, turning to throw the pizzas into the oven.
Jensen thinks maybe he notices Brayden's shoulders relax a little bit, and he lets himself believe that maybe things will be okay after all.
Chapter 5
Author:
raeschae Rating: R
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Chad, OMC
Summary: Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.
Warnings: Still just the language, which is probably a given by now but, ya know, I live life on the safe side.
Word Count: 5500 (give or a take a word or two)
Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Especially the J's, who would totally be inked like they are in the graphic if I did. :)
Graphic under the cut again, so beware if you, ya know, need to beware of that kind of thing. Alright:
There's a reason Jensen likes to stay in bed until well into the morning, or early into the afternoon. California's not exactly frigid in the mornings, but the thick layer of covers wrapped around his shoulders feels like a cocoon that he's not willing to withdraw himself from. Ever. Or, at the very least, until he absolutely has to.
If he believed in fate or destiny, he would have believed that he and Jared were meant to be the first morning they woke up together. See, Jensen loves his covers way too much to be any good at sharing, and Jared is kind of like his own heat source. He barely covers himself with a sheet most nights and still manages to radiate more warmth than the blankets themselves. So he lets Jensen have all of his covers, and they both wake up well-rested and happy with the arrangement.
It takes him a few minutes to realize that he's not alone in the bed when Jensen wakes up on Thursday morning. A few more to feel the arm draped over his stomach, and just a few seconds to comprehend the steady fall of breathing against the back of his neck.
“You're here,” he mutters, eyes still squeezed shut as he burrows his face into the pillow and his hip into Jared's thigh.
The only response he receives is a grunt and the press of Jared's lips against his shoulder.
It's the only explanation he'll get, and Jensen knows it. Jared's not one to discuss his feelings, and that's okay. Especially at . . . whatever time it is. The only thing that really matters is that Jared came back some time during the night, which means he probably spent a total of twenty minutes in TJ, if he ever made it to the border in the first place. Chad has a surf shanty down in San Diego, and it's far more likely that Jared parked his ass on the sand floor, drank a Corona, and then came home.
He probably wasn't thrilled to find Brayden's shoes still sitting by the front door when he stumbled in, but one thing at a time.
Jensen bolts upright in the bed and lets out a string of curses normally reserved for the moments just before he shoots off. “Brayden!” he finishes his litany as he rolls out of the bed and pulls his jeans on, stumbling out of their messy bedroom with another whisper of curses.
The guest room bed is made, albeit not so tidily, and there is no sign of the kid anywhere.
“Motherfucker!” Jensen calls out, turning back down the hall and running down the stairs. It's kind of a wonder he doesn't end up on his face in a heap at the bottom.
Brayden's shoes are gone from the front door and it's pretty obvious that the kid left at some point. During the night, or the morning, Jensen's not sure.
What is it that everyone's been saying from the get-go? Letting the kid stay with them is a bad idea? Clearly, his friends all know a shitload more than he does.
Jared's making his way lazily down the stairs, scratching his bare belly and carding his other hand through his disheveled hair. “You need to calm the fuck down,” he advises, smile of amusement on his lips.
“Calm down?” Jensen asks, his voice edging toward completely hysterical as he pulls at the short spikes of hair atop his head. “You want me to calm the fuck down? How in the fuck am I supposed to do that, Jared? Chris is gonna fuckin' kill me! I didn't even leave the house and I managed to lose the damn kid!”
Jared's eyes dance as he stops on the third step and leans his shoulder against the wall. “You didn't lose anybody,” he assures Jensen, who's eyes only double in size, if that's even possible. “Sandy took him to school a couple hours ago,” he adds.
The adrenaline and the panic don't really slow down as Jensen shrieks, “Why the hell would she do that?”
“Because I asked her to?” Jared says, all zen and calm in a way that pisses Jensen off. He continues past his boyfriend and through the entry toward the kitchen. “It's a whole long fuckin' thing, man, but Tom went to Mike's last night, and Mike called Danneel, who told Sophia. Chad called me, and I was already on my way back, so I just called Sandy and had her pick him up.” He shrugs as if it's no big deal.
And finally, finally, Jensen lets himself breathe. “Y'all knew I was gonna fuck it up and oversleep, didn't you?” Jared just shrugs, reaching for two coffee cups from the cabinet. “Man, I don't know what I was thinkin', but you were right. We have no business takin' care of a kid,” he shakes his head, guilt swimming in his gut at the fact that he would be totally sunk, were it not for the fucked up phone-tree of friends that they share.
“Actually,” Jared says, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on his fingers before returning to Jensen's face. “I was thinkin' about it. About the whole thing, and I think,” he stops and shakes his head, smiling in that easy way that only Jared can really smile. “I don't know, man, maybe it's all fucked up. Maybe we can only fuck the kid up more than he already is, but,” he stops and leaves the statement hanging, waits to see if Jensen catches up to the sentiment.
He does, and he's shaking his head vehemently. “No fuckin' way. It took me two hours, a hell of a lot of take out, and a video game marathon not even you would sit through just to make him talk to me. I'm not about to live with that level of awkward on a daily basis, okay? And the whole 'forgetting about him while I sleep' thing?” He swallows hard, and can feel his eyes growing wide at the sheer ridiculousness of this whole, fucked-up situation. “That's not good, Jay. Not to mention the panic when I thought he ran away! Fuck that shit, man. I ain't cut out for this shit, and you don't wanna be, either. Just,” he stops and shakes his head. “Fuck it all.”
Through Jensen's entire tirade, Jared just sits back and watches. He doesn't want to say I told you so, but it kind of applies. He did tell Jensen so, that they weren't cut out for this life. So why is it only slightly more annoying than amusing to see Jensen giving up? Throwing in the towel?
He's spent the whole of his adult life convincing himself that his past doesn't define him. That who he was has no bearing on who he is. He's tried to pretend, for the better part of the last ten years, that it doesn't matter that he grew up without ever really knowing his birth parents. That the only person who ever showed even marginal interest in him was the older son of one of his foster parents who taught him how to tattoo. And Jared kind of ended up teaching himself anyway, being as the kid was high off his ass and talking about how aliens were going to come back to Earth and save us all from Satan some day most of the time.
Jared has always needed to believe that none of that bull shit matters. That it never really did. That he's above it, and he's moved beyond it, and that being the random, mostly unwanted, house guest with a different bunch of strangers every few months had nothing to do with shaping him into the guy he is now. That the kid they all thought he was is nothing but dirt on the shoe of the guy he has become.
But the truth, as he realized it while flying 120 down the 5 last night, is that everything about the way he was raised contributed to who he is now. Everything he never wanted to become, and everything he wanted to prove that he could be is wrapped up in the way people saw him back then.
Nuisance.
Inconvenience.
Trash.
He was never the kid they wanted around, and nobody ever really cared what he was up to as long as he stayed out of their hair and they were able to collect their government check for being such great caretakers. Even when he tried to be in the way, he wasn't. Because they just didn't see him.
Invisible.
He got tired of nobody noticing him, of nobody asking how his day went or how his grades were. He got tired of nobody caring if he didn't take a shower for a week, or if his jeans were three inches too short. He got tired of disappearing into the background.
The tattoos make him visible. Even if people are scared of him, they definitely see him. Hanging out with celebrities ensures that he'll be seen. Even if nobody really knows his name and he's always credited as “. . . and friend,” his reputation is out there and people in high places recognize it. Though it's kind of a coincidence, hanging out with a group of people who are all shorter than he is also solidifies the idea that he can always be found in the crowd, that anyone can look up at any given moment and know exactly where Jared is.
He's always kind of known that stuff about himself, but never really admitted it. Until last night. And it wasn't so much the kid or any of that other stuff that made it crystal fucking clear, either. It was Jensen.
Because it's always Jensen. Since day one, it's been Jensen turning his head around and illuminating the darkened corners that he tries to forget. Jensen, who never says a word about Jared's past or anything else in Jared's life until he's ready to talk about it. Jensen, who just stands there and listens when Jared's stupid ideas take on a life of their own, or when his bitching is just this side of whining.
Last night, half way to Mexico, he realized that Jensen is right. Taking this kid into their home is the right thing to do. For Chris. For the kid. Hell, even for them, if he's honest with himself. Because they've always just kind of accepted that they'll grow old together, but there's always been this unspoken bond that they would never grow up together.
Jensen's voice echoed in his ears all the way down the coast. It's not my job. I choose to. Because my friends? That's all I've got. That's all we've got. And he might deny it now, seeing as he seems to be searching for the other head Jared clearly must have sprouted overnight, but Jensen was sounding pretty damn grown up last night.
Jared's pretty apathetic about anything outside of drawing, drinking, and fucking. The little boy locked away in the darkest parts of his psyche kind of runs his life, convincing him that caring about anything makes him that much more vulnerable to losing that something. But he can't help thinking that maybe Jensen's right this time. That maybe it's not the worst idea in the world to actually care about something outside of his own comfort zone and pleasure.
Of course, he came to that conclusion alone in the middle of nowhere last night. And now Jensen is taking something that Jared is ready to admit he needs, and he's ready to toss it aside like it doesn't mean anything. Like a fucking kid doesn't mean a goddamn thing. And Jared will be damned if he came to terms with all this emotional bull shit that he's been running from for a decade, just so Jensen can throw in the towel at the last minute. Fuck that.
“Option one,” Jared holds up a finger, voice holding no sway one direction or the other. “Tom takes him back. Great, except that Tom's wife kicked him out and now he's staying with Mike for the time being. And I think you and I both know what a great situation that's gonna be for the next little while.”
Jensen's face scrunches at the thought of Mike and Tom actually trying to co-habitate.
“Option two?” Jared raises another finger. “Sophia's pretty sympathetic to the kid, so I could probably get her to agree to take him. But she lives with Chad most of the time, and he's, like, the king of indescretion. Also, he has no qualms about offering alcohol to minors and taking embarrassing photos of them when they do stupid things like pass out with their faces in his dog's dishes.” Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but Jared just shakes his head. “Don't ask me, ask the high school girls at the pier.”
At this information, Jensen's eyes double, horrified.
“Option three? Um . . . Sandy? Danneel? Either or.” He rests his arms back against the counter and inclines his head as he considers the option. “Both good choices as far as maternal and organized, but really? We both know neither is going to be comfortable letting a hormone-laden junior high boy in their house. Even if either of them could kick his ass into next week if he ever tried anything.”
Jensen's brain runs through the options Jared has laid out so far. Danneel, Mike, and Tom are all out, which eliminates his own staff. Chad, Sophia, and Sandy pretty much take care of Jared's crew, too. “Genevieve?” he names the only one they haven't mentioned.
Jared shakes his head. “She'd probably chain him up in the back yard like a puppy and maybe take him for walks on the weekends. Besides,” he smiles fondly, “There's a pretty good chance she'd try to turn him into either a pot head or a lesbian, and I'm not entirely sure either is the way to go.”
Jensen shakes his head slowly. “So what you're telling me is that you and I are the best hope this kid has of surviving unscathed until Chris gets back?” He huffs a laugh. “The world is a fucked up place.”
“Oh, we're not,” Jared smiles, reaching out one long arm to draw Jensen into his personal space. “Mike and Chad are pretty much the only worse options than you and I in this whole scenario. We're just the most circumstantial choice at the moment.”
Circumstantial choice? Jensen wants to laugh, but instead presses his hand to Jared's mouth. “Stop talking,” he instructs, and Jared gladly dips his head to make better use of his lips.
Technically, they're supposed to be in Mexico. And even though everyone knows that Jared and Jensen are still in town, they don't bother going to their respective offices. The whole point of taking a day off was to unwind and spend a little bit of uninterrupted time together, after all. And being as they're going to let Brayden stay with them for an undetermined period of time, Jensen kind of figures they need to get as much noisy, nasty, dirty sex in as they can before he gets home from school. Not like he can fully utilize half the shit in the box under his bed while there's a kid sleeping down the hall.
“I'm goin' to the grocery store,” Jared announces upon entering Jensen's office, dressed only in a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops.
Jensen looks up from the sketch he's been half-heartedly working on since Jared passed out an hour and a half ago. Kid just can't hang sometimes. At least, that's how Jensen teases and prods him into another round most of the time.
“You know, they require shirts there,” he points to Jared's bare chest and can't help smiling at the bite marks and bruises dotting his skin. “I know it's been awhile since you stepped inside one, but . . . “
Jared just flips him off and pulls a white tee shirt from the back of his shorts. “I was gonna ask if you wanted anything specific, but fuck it now, man. You're eatin' what I buy.”
Which means that he'll be dining on frozen dinners and whatever candy Jared wants for the next however long his boyfriend stocks up for, but Jensen's okay with that. He's not really a picky eater, and it's not like they won't end up ordering in, or grabbing something on the way home anyway. “Make sure you get cereal or some shit for breakfast,” he reminds as Jared turns to leave the room. “And maybe some vegetables or somethin'? Those are s'posed to be good for kids, right?”
His shoulders are shaking when he stops short in the hallway. “D'you just tell me to buy vegetables? Seriously? You?” Jared looks over his shoulder and catches his lip between his teeth. “Man, look at ya . . . less than twenty-four hours and this kid's already got ya whipped into eatin' your broccoli. It's cute.”
Jensen throws a pencil across the room and Jared catches it easily. No satisfaction in that. “Go,” he points to the door and then back to his paper. “Be a good little housewife while the man of the house finishes his work.” Barely glancing up from his sketch, Jensen adds, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Think about brushin' your hair, too, wouldya? Wouldn't kill ya to put a little effort into bein' pretty for your family, ya know?”
Jared's growl is all that precedes him crossing the room and spinning Jensen in his chair. “You think you're funny, don't ya?” Jensen just leans back and smiles the most shit-eating grin Jared's ever seen in his life. “Fucker.”
“Yeah? Again?” Jensen asks, his hands trailing over the back of Jared's shorts as he moans into the kiss being dropped on his lips. Before things have a chance to go too far, though, he pushes Jared back and nods toward the door again. “Go if you're gonna go. He's gonna be back in a few minutes.”
With a resigned sigh, Jared stands and second-guesses his decision to let this happen in the first place. He knows there's a reason he said yes. He just can't really remember now that he's been cock-blocked by a kid he's barely even looked at. “Alright, fine,” he sighs, allowing his shoulders to sag as he slinks back toward the door. “You should probably clean the kitchen 'fore Soph brings him back, though.”
“What? Why?” Jensen's never cleaned a kitchen in his life. Why the hell should he start now?
Jared just shrugs and taps his fingers against the top of the door jamb as he calls back over his shoulder, “Cause I'm pretty sure cum stains on the floor are almost as traumatic as finding us fucking in your chair, dumbass!”
With a groan, Jensen lets his head fall back against his chair when he hears the door slam shut. They have a system, dammit. When it comes to sex, Jensen's in charge of cleaning accessories and Jared's in charge of cleaning locations. Jensen doesn't mop the floors because Jared decides to go buy their live-in house guest some fucking fruit roll ups. That's not the way it works.
His cell phone rings as he's elbows-deep in dishwater, trying to clean up the mess he made while cleaning up. “Yeah?” he barks into his blue tooth, only to hear a crackle and a pause on the other end. “What the . . . “ he stops when a slow, Southern drawl comes through the line.
“Can you hear me, man?” Chris's voice is there, like he's standing right beside Jensen.
“Now I can,” he answers without a greeting of 'hello' . . . doesn't need it with Chris. “Where are you, man? Still in Vegas?”
They talk about the tour for a few minutes, about the show and how Steve lost his place in a song last night because he was too busy flirting with some chick front row, stage left. Jensen thinks Chris sounds a little jealous, but he knows Chris well enough to know he'll never get an admission out of the older man, so he doesn't say anything.
“So,” Chris finally leads the conversation in the direction he intended the call to go, Jensen's pretty sure. “I talked to Tommy today.”
“Yeah,” Jensen nods.
Chris is quiet for a minute and Jensen's pretty sure he's going to tell him not to be an idiot. That he's in no shape to care for a child. Instead, he chuckles. It's an easy Chris sound that reminds Jensen of home in the best possible way.
“You sure, man?” Chris doesn't mention the fight they all overheard the other night, but he doesn't really have to. Jensen knows what he's getting at. “Cause, I mean, I know it's not exactly makin' shit easy at your place.”
Jensen shrugs his shoulders and tosses the dishtowel onto the counter. What time is Sophia supposed to be bringing Brayden by again? He thinks the kid gets out of school at three, but it could be three thirty or four. Or two fifteen, for all Jensen knows. “It's cool, man. You know I got your back, right?”
“I owe you one,” Chris says, voice intense and serious. “I mean, I barely know the kid, but I feel like we owe it to him, ya know? Like I do.”
He may play 'tough as nails' to most of the world, but Jensen knows the kind of commitment Chris feels to his family. Lindsay may be a ginormous fuck-up of epic proportions, but she's Chris's little sister, and that means something to him. Jensen doesn't come from a family who gets him, or even wants to, but Chris loves his. And even if he doesn't get it, he kinda loves the guy for it.
“It's cool, man. I mean, it's only for a couple weeks, right?” There's a long pause on the other end of the line and Jensen feels his heart speed up. They might be okay with Brayden staying until the end of the month, but longer than that is probably going to be a problem. “Chris?”
“Yeah, man, just a couple weeks,” Chris finally answers, but his voice is pretty much tipping Jensen off to something and he says as much. “I don't know. I mean, I've been talkin' options with Dave, and I'd have to postpone a couple shows to come back, but I'm thinking about filing for permanent guardianship.”
“Which is convenient for you, Chris,” Jensen says without thinking. He's not bitter – it's respectable that his friend wants to help. But his friend is also criss-crossing the country and leaving the rest of them to actually take care of the kid he wants to adopt. “Being as you're wherever the fuck you are.”
The silence that follows is thick with tension and Jensen hears another crackle. “Man, I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not making any definite decisions just yet, but . . . I'm just puttin' it out there as a possiblity, ya know?”
Jensen knows there's no point in arguing the matter any further, and he finds that he really doesn't want to. Instead, he says, “Look, I'll make sure he's all in one piece when you get back, okay? What you do from there is all on you.”
They're still talking about the band's next port-of-call when the front door bangs open and Chad announces his presence with a flourish of both arms thrown wide.
Jensen all but hangs up on Chris, dries his dishpan hands, and tosses his blue tooth onto the kitchen counter. “The fuck are you doin' here?” he asks, eyebrow raised as Brayden shuffles through the door behind the boisterous loud older man.
“A favor for you, dickweed. Be polite,” Chad snarks in return, grin on his full lips as he nods toward Brayden. “Soph got a last minute tribute for some grieving mother,” he rolls his eyes as though it's the most ridiculous thing ever.
Jensen casts a look at Brayden, who rolls his own eyes at the man who just dropped him off. He can't help smirking at the reaction. “Your compassion is overwhelming, douchebag,” he tells Chad, who just nods like he thinks so, too.
“Where's Jay?” he asks, letting himself further into the house.
Jensen just ignores him and makes his way across the entry to the place where Brayden is fidgeting near the door. “Dude, I'm so sorry about this morning,” he starts, but Brayden rolls his eyes again.
“It's cool,” he says, unaffected tone firmly in place.
Something in the tone tells Jensen that it's really not, but Brayden's trying to believe that it is, so he lets the subject go. Doesn't really have time to offer much else when Jared comes bursting through the kitchen door anyway.
Arms loaded with plastic grocery bags, he moves slowly toward the kitchen island and drops them in a pile, bottles and cans clunking against one another. “The fuck are you doin' here?” Jared mimicks Jensen's earlier question when he sees Chad peering into the empty refrigerator.
“The only thing you got in here's some Reece Cups, dude,” he answers and Jared huffs, rolling his eyes in Jensen's direction and causing Brayden to chuckle at Jensen's side.
“Get your ass out here and help me carry in the rest of this shit,” he commands.
Another one of those joyful, awkward silences fills the space between Jensen and Brayden and he can't help thinking about last night. When he thought that having Jared around would make things easier. Guess he was wrong.
“You have homework?” Jensen asks and Brayden just shrugs again. “Dude, you're here for, like, three weeks at least. You're gonna have to give me more than a fuckin' shrug occasionally, okay?” Anticipating the next move before it comes, he holds a finger up. “And eye rolls do not count as an alternative form of communication! Words,” he smiles and Brayden returns the look. “Words are good.”
“I'm stayin' with you guys?” he asks skeptically.
Jensen nods. “That okay with you?”
There's a nod and something that looks like hesitation, but Brayden kicks his shoes off and drops his backpack to the ground. “Can I finish my game from last night?” But he takes off before Jensen can demand he do his homework first, or remind him that Jared brought food. And then he realizes he's about to sound like his mother again, and he's kind of glad that Brayden's already gone.
With a sigh, he heads back into the kitchen to watch Chad and Jared stare at the mountain of food Jared brought home. “You leave anything at the store?” he asks, popping a grape into his mouth from the bunch sticking out of the bag on the end of the counter. Have they ever actually had grapes in their house? Jensen's pretty sure the answer is no.
The easy, trademark shrug that Jared gives him reminds him a little bit of Brayden, but Jensen doesn't say anything, Pretty sure that comment would strike up a conversation he doesn't want to have. “Like I know what the kid likes,” he excuses his actions and leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I barely know what you like and I been eatin' with you for the last three years.”
Jensen sticks his tongue out and Chad reaches into a bag to withdraw a package of Oreo cookies. “But you do know what I like!” he exclaims, tearing the bag open to stuff two cookies into his mouth before giving Jensen a dirty, black-toothed grin. “You're welcome, ya know,” he nods graciously.
“For what?” Jensen huffs, crossing the kitchen to help Jared put the groceries into various cupboards. There's a better than good chance they'll never find half of this stuff again, being as they rarely ever put anything other than dishes in the cabinets, but it seems like the domestically right thing to do.
“Taking time out of my busy schedule to pick your kid up from school,” Chad says, as though it should be obvious what a saint he really is. “You got milk?” he asks, searching through the bags.
Before Jensen can retort, Jared turns and rips the package from Chad's hands. “Get the fuck outta here, asshat,” he orders. “I'm on vacation. Not s'posed to have to look at your ugly mug 'til tomorrow.”
Chad gapes like a fish out of water. If fish had facial hair and a mouthful of Oreos. “I can't believe I take this goddamn abuse from you fuckers. Shit, try to do a guy a favor,” he mumbles to himself, flipping Jared off before turning and exiting with the same flourish he entered with.
“Do we need to have the conversation about choosing the right friends again, Jay?” Jensen asks when Chad has slammed the front door.
Jared just rolls his eyes and sets a jar of spaghetti sauce onto the counter. “Anyone who considers Tom Welling and Mike Rosenbaum friends? Doesn't get to question Chad,” he points out, smiling when Jensen rolls his eyes.
He doesn't protest when Jared pulls him forward by his belt loops and kisses him, quick and deep. “Do you know how to fix any of this shit you bought?” he asks when they finally part.
Eyebrow shooting up, Jared purses his lips and casts a glance around the mess they've made in unpacking the kitchen. “What do you think are the odds the kid knows how to cook? I'll pay him, so it's not, like, slave labor or whatever.”
For a second, he contemplates not even breaching the subject, but not talking to Jared about something that's bugging him is kind of impossible for Jensen. “You're not actually going to spend the next three weeks calling him the kid, are you?”
Jared winces and pulls back. See, the thing is, he's come to terms with the idea that having Brayden with them is the right thing to do. He's even accepted that maybe it's going to be good for them. But he just can't bring himself to form any kind of connection with the kid. Doesn't trust that things are going to work just yet, and doesn't want to feel the twinge of disappointment he used to feel when something that seemed good didn't work the way he wanted it to.
“Maybe,” is the only answer Jared gives before rolling his hip away from the counter and walking to the door of the kitchen. “HEY KID!” he calls out in exactly the way he calls to Jensen from the bedroom to the theater. No house needs an intercom if it's got a Jared Padalecki.
Brayden rounds the corner, sliding on the tile floor in his sock feet, eyes wide in something that looks like fear. Jensen thinks Jared should maybe apologize for putting that look on the kid's face, but he's not about to say it. Not right now.
“You hungry?”
Brayden's eyes dart to Jensen, like he's looking for permission to answer the question, so Jensen nods instead of launching into a diatribe about how the kid's welcome to speak as freely as he damn well pleases in this house. He and Jared do it all the time, after all.
When the kid nods, Jared mimics the gesture and walks to the freezer, pulling a frozen pizza out. “Pepperoni or cheese?” Brayden looks seriously unsure, and maybe still a little scared, but Jared thankfully seems to notice it this time. “How 'bout both?”
“That's great, Jay,” Jensen encourages, noting that his voice sounds a little too happy, and a little too forced, even to his own ears. “And what are you makin' for me and Bray?”
Jared rolls his eyes. “You're funny,” he teases, turning to throw the pizzas into the oven.
Jensen thinks maybe he notices Brayden's shoulders relax a little bit, and he lets himself believe that maybe things will be okay after all.
Chapter 5
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 12:56 am (UTC)I feel bad but really I wanna know, Did Mike really forgive Tom that easy?
Anyway, I'm really in love with this story. Love the way brayden is already leaning more towards Jensen.
Great job!
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 06:55 am (UTC)*smiles shy;y*
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:07 am (UTC)Great chapter
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:13 am (UTC)Thank you so much for your faithful reviews - they really mean a lot to me.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:45 am (UTC)For the record, I'll take Brayen if they can't. Alternatively, I'd like to be adopted by the J's if Chris takes him back. Just sayin.
I love love it I love it I LOVE IT!
*note the AWESOME ICON MADE OF AWESOMENESS*
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 02:56 am (UTC)And I'll be sure to pass your offer along. Provided the boys still want to adopt, should anything happen to Brayden in the future, I'm sure they'd be happy to welcome you into one of their guest rooms. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 03:31 am (UTC)LOVED when Jared came back with all the groceries! haha Jared is such a tool! But we love him!
And the moment between Jensen and Brayden...when Jensen asked him if it was alright with Brayden if he stayed with them for awhile...priceless! Jensen just maybe might have grown up a tad bit right there...maybe. lol!
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 04:19 am (UTC)I think Jensen wants to be the grown up - I'm just not entirely sure he knows how to do that just yet. He's workin' on it, though! He'll get there! I hope.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 08:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 10:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-20 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 06:30 pm (UTC)Looking forward to more.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 01:55 am (UTC)*laughs* I like their division of labor! And yeah, they DO need to make a few changes with a kid around, huh?
So far, looks like it's taking a village to get this kid through the day. Or at least the combined staff of two small Santa Monica pier businesses.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 01:58 am (UTC)