raeschae

Title: Priorities
Author:

raeschae
Wordcount: ~4000
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen

Summary: Jensen thinks he’s doing alright; he’s got a lot of successful business ventures, a hot boyfriend, and a cool kid. It takes a dangerous fight and a night in the ER to convince him it may be time to reevaluate his definition of ‘alright.’

“You heard from Bray?”

Jensen looks up from his desk and then instinctively checks his phone. No texts or voicemails. “Nope.” He returns his attention to the proposal Tom highlighted for him earlier today, but when Jared fidgets in the doorway, he looks up again. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Nothin',” Jared shakes his head and pushes off the door frame. “You eatin' soon?”

When he checks the clock on his phone, Jensen is surprised to find that it's after eight already. “Yeah. You wanna go pick it up?”

With a half-chuckle that's less-than-humored, Jared says, “Already ate, like an hour ago.” He disappears down the hall before Jensen can ask him if anything's wrong.

Jensen knows Jared enough to know that something is bothering him, but he's got a few deadlines that are piling up and he's too busy to chase after him at the moment. They can talk about it later.

Fifteen minutes later, Jared returns with turkey sandwich on a plate and a bottle of Sam Adams. Wordlessly, he drops both on the edge of Jensen's desk and runs his fingers through his hair. At the door, he calls over his shoulder, “I'm headin' out.”

Torn, Jensen looks from his dinner to the door and back again. It's not like it's unusual for Jared to head out on his bike for awhile when he needs to clear his head. Besides, he brought Jensen dinner, so it would be rude not to eat it, right?

He's just taken the first drink of his beer when a door slams and he hears Jared bellow, “JEN!”

In the six years that he and Jared have been together, he's never heard the guy sound terrified in one syllable before. Jensen is out of his office and into the kitchen before he processes the movements, his heart hammering his chest before it drops to his toes at the sight awaiting him.

Jared is leaning Brayden against the counter, carefully positioning him to make sure he doesn't fall over. His eye is swollen shut and his lip is cracked, the front of his shirt smeared with blood spatters and dirt. At his side, Jordan is holding his own shoulder, wincing when Brayden leans against him. His face isn't as bad, but there's a bruise on the side of his jaw that is going to look worse before it gets better.

“The fuck happened?” Jensen asks, stepping up to Brayden's side before he tips over on the floor. It's not the first time this house has seen the aftermath of a fight, but neither of them has ever come home looking this bad. It's unsettling, and Jensen can't decide if he's angry or scared to death. “Jay, we should get his head checked.”

Brayden grunts and takes the ice pack Jared is offering. He dabs it to the corner of his mouth and then cringes before handing it to Jordan. “Shoulder,” he manages to mumble, though his words seem bigger than his mouth at the moment.

Jared hands a bag of frozen peas to Jensen, who promptly sets it over Brayden's eye. They're not exactly the healthiest eaters in the world, but they do have a stock of frozen meat and vegetables on hand for occasions such as this. Brayden tries to shy away, but Jensen just puts a hand on his back to hold him in place.

Jensen is dying to know what the hell happened, but it seems that Jared only has one question. “Who?”

Opening his mouth to answer, Jordan slumps back against the counter when Brayden elbows him in the side and tries to shake his head. The slight motion nearly knocks him over.

“Goddammit, Brayden, tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Really, an angry Jared is going to make this situation ten times better. With a roll of his eyes, Jensen reaches an arm out and takes a deep breath, fighting to be reasonable. “Let's just go get them checked out, and we can worry about what happened later.” It's not as important as making sure the boys are alright. “We need to call your mom,” he says to Jordan.

“Can we just...not?” Jordan's face twists at the suggestion, but he nods anyway and walks down the hall to call his mom in private, hand still clutched tightly to his shoulder.

When they're alone, Jensen lets himself look at Brayden again. He looks bad. Really fucking bad. “Jesus, man, talk about battle scars,” he mutters to himself, resting his hand on the top of Brayden's head to tilt it to the side. There's a jagged cut near his ear, blood dried and crusted against his bruised skin. “The hell happened to you, Kid? Huh?”

He manages to mumble something that sounds like 'assholes talkin' shit’. Jensen kind of figured as much, seeing as it's the number one reason most guys get into fights in the first place. When Brayden leans heavily against his side, head falling against Jensen's shoulder, he doesn't think about the way his fingers scratch at the back of Brayden's head until Brayden jerks away and then settles back against him again.

“We should go before he falls asleep,” Jensen says over the top of Brayden's head.

Jared is seething on the other side of the island, hands clenched into fists as he leans his weight against the counter top. The thick muscles in his arms strain and bulge, and Jensen would normally find that hotter than hell, but right now it's not going to help anything. “I'm gonna kill somebody, Jensen,” he announces, voice calm and far too rational for Jensen's liking.

“You're not gonna kill a sixteen-year-old, idiot. We are gonna take our son to the hospital, get his head scanned and make sure he's not gonna go blind in one eye, and then we're gonna come back and make sure his brain doesn't start hemorrhaging overnight. Tomorrow, we'll figure this shit out and we'll take care of it, but you are not goin' to jail for kicking your mammoth foot through the skull of some punk ass kid. Are we clear?”

It's not often that Jensen tries to be authoritative outside of the bedroom, so Jared takes the cue and stalks across the kitchen to grab his keys from the bowl by the door. He won't say anything else until they know Brayden's going to be okay, but he'll refrain from doing anything irrevocably stupid until then, too.

Jordan comes back down the hall, tear tracks on his face that he's pretending don't exist. Jensen doesn't call him on it as he helps Brayden to the back door. “You tell your mom to meet us there?” Jordan nods and pulls the door open. Jensen claps him on the shoulder while tightening his arm around Brayden's waist and leading him to the car.

Jared holds the door for Jordan while Jensen helps Brayden into the backseat. When he says, “It's gonna be okay, Kid,” none of them know exactly who he's addressing. Maybe all of them at once.

*

Tracy, Jordan's mom, is waiting for them at the ER. She's panicked, but lets Jensen hug her anyway, sniffling into his shoulder when she sees Brayden roll out of the backseat and stand shakily to his feet.

When the boys are situated on side-by-side beds, Jared looks at Jensen and then back to Brayden. “I can take it from here.”

“Take it where?” The thought of leaving doesn't even occur to Jensen. Why would he think about leaving? They haven't even seen a doctor yet.

Leaning against the wall, Jared rakes his fingers through his hair and then rests his hands on his waist. “You've got a ton of work to do, Jensen.”

The suggestion that he would rather be working than here offends Jensen more than Jared probably meant for it. “And I got a kid with a jacked up face right here. I'm fine. Work can wait.” When Jared rolls his eyes, Jensen feels his shoulders tighten. “You got somethin' you wanna say to me, Jay?”

Jared opens his mouth to speak and then snaps it shut again when the doctor rounds the corner. Whatever's been bothering him all day can wait until Brayden is home safe.

*

In the end, the doctor pops Jordan's separated shoulder back into place and sends him home with his mother before he stitches Brayden's bottom lip and recommends that he keep ice on his swollen eye. The CT scan indicates a concussion, but the doctor doesn't predict any long term damage. The laceration near his ear wasn't too deep, doesn't require stitches, and he has a few bruised ribs. He'll live, but he's going to feel this one for a few days.

Back home after a quick stop to the pharmacy, Jared helps Brayden up to his room while Jensen calls Mike and Chad to fill them in. While they were waiting on the prescriptions, Jared said that he's planning on taking tomorrow off in case Brayden needs anything. It's a good idea; one of them needs to be around.

Jared is standing at the refrigerator, staring into the freezer, when Jensen comes out of his office. “Chad's gonna give you a call in the morning.” Jared doesn't reply, instead pulling a carton of milk from the refrigerator before crossing to the cabinet and grabbing a glass. “You gonna stay up with him tonight or do you want me to?”

Ignoring Jensen until his milk is poured, Jared takes a drink and then says, “I got it.”

“You sure? Cause I can -,”

“Jensen, stop,” Jared interrupts. “You're working tomorrow. You need to sleep. I got this.”

He's staring out the window, back to Jensen, his shoulders tense. It's not often that Jensen feels uncomfortable around Jared, but this passive-aggressive silent treatment is not what they do. “Man, what the fuck is goin' on with you lately? You've been a pissy bitch all week.”

“Man, how would you even know?” Turning, he crosses his arms over his chest and levels Jensen with one of those glares that scares other people. “It's not like you've been around to notice.”

With a sarcastic chuckle, Jensen runs his hand over the top of his head. “Seriously? What are you, feelin' like some desperate fuckin' housewife? You need some special attention, Sweetheart?”

The mocking only pisses Jared off further, evidenced by the way he grabs his milk glass in his fist so tightly Jensen's surprised it doesn't break. “Ya know what, Jensen? Fuck you. Just,” he shakes his head and throws the glass into the sink, ignoring the sound of the shattering glass. “Go to bed.”

Jensen grabs his wrist as he passes, feeling Jared tense as he spins on his heel. “Don't you fuckin' walk away from this. You got a problem with me, fuckin' talk about it.” He's always believed that the reason they work as well as they do is that they're honest with each other, all of the time, no exceptions. Jensen's not interested in changing that now.

“Where do you want me to start, Jen?” Jared rips his arm out of Jensen's grasp and puts a few feet between them. “How 'bout the fact that we haven't been to TJ in, like, six months? Or, I don't know, the fact that you decided to stay in San Diego for four days last week on a fucking whim? You go to the park, work for fourteen hours, and then come home and work for four or five more. I see you in the morning, while you're still sleeping, and we haven't had an actual conversation in, like, three weeks!”

“Man, that is not fucking fair and you know it. Yeah, I've been busy, but it's not like you've been around, either.” He can't think of any specific examples right now, but Jared is blowing this way out of proportion. Isn't he? Jensen doesn't actually know if Jared has been around because, as he so succinctly pointed out, Jensen has been working pretty much non-stop. “You take off at the drop of a hat all the time, dude. Don't act like I'm the only one who's not around.”

It's a weak argument, and Jared doesn't even bother stopping to consider it. “Yeah, I do. But when I come home, I come home, Jensen. Man, I know I work a lot, and I know you have to. But I know how to leave my work at the shop, too. It's like you don't even have a fucking 'off' switch anymore.” He rolls his shoulders and drops his head back to blink at the ceiling. When he looks back at Jensen, his expression is blunt, matter-of-fact. “There's a reason I didn't hook up with some fuckin' corporate drone, man.”

If there was ever a doubt that Jared knows exactly what makes Jensen tick, he alleviates it with that statement. Call Jensen a workaholic – he can deal with that – but referring to him as, in any way, corporate is leaning hard on a surefire hot button.

“Fuck you,” he spits, taking a step forward. “What do you want me to do, Jared? Drop everything and cuddle on the couch with you for awhile?”

“No, asshole,” Jared fires back as he points toward the door. “But I would like it to take less than our kid getting the shit kicked out of him for you to get the hell out of your office and hang the fuck out with us occasionally. Though right now, I'm having trouble remembering why I want you around at all.” He recoils at the weight of his own words, fingers tearing at his hair in frustration.

It hurts, like a sucker punch to the gut, and Jensen scrubs his hands over his face to give himself some time before he says something he's going to regret. “I'm gonna go check on Bray,” he says, pivoting on his heel.

Jared's the one that reaches out this time, less fury in his eyes when Jensen turns around. “You don't get to walk away from this, either.” He wraps one hand around the back of Jensen's neck and closes the distance between them. “Take tomorrow off. One day, that's all I'm asking. Show me, show Brayden, your family is as important as your fucking job, man. Please.”

It's not often that Jared asks Jensen for anything, let alone begs for it. Jensen has a deadline tomorrow, and he's supposed to have a meeting with an international distributor. Taking Ollie global is the biggest fucking thing that has ever happened to him professionally.

Jared once told him that he could lose his show, his business, and all of his contacts tomorrow and, as long as he still had Jensen and Brayden, he'd be okay. Jensen thought he agreed, but he hasn't exactly been living that out lately. He's been spending eighteen hours a day fortifying and expanding his brand, because he doesn't want any of his stores to fail, assuming his family will be fine without the time or effort.

Reaching into his back pocket, he leans into Jared's touch at his neck and hits a button on his phone. When Mike answers, he just says, “Store's yours tomorrow. Tell Tom to take care of the meeting.” Mike only assures him that it'll be fine, and when Jensen hangs up, he turns his attention back to Jared. “I'm all yours.”

*

It's nearly nine o'clock the next morning when Jensen wakes up to the scent of fresh coffee under his nose. They've taken turns all night, waking Brayden up every four hours to make sure that his concussion isn't adversely affecting his brain or whatever, and he'd like some uninterrupted sleep time now that the sun is up. Jared, apparently, has different plans.

“Go 'way,” Jensen mumbles into the pillow. He's all for family time, if it starts after noon.

Sinking to the edge of the mattress, Jared grabs the back of Jensen's neck and pulls. “Get up,” he commands. He's not exactly smiling when Jensen pries one eye open and pulls his arm free from his mountain of covers to reach for the coffee. “Come on. Brayden's up, eatin' breakfast.”

Which means that they can talk to him about what happened. That's more motivating than the coffee, but Jensen takes the cup gratefully and gulps from it before swinging his feet to the floor. “Alright, let's move.”

Jared watches him stand and huffs a chuckle. “Kid's had enough trauma in the last twenty-four hours. You might wanna put some pants on.”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen grabs a pair of shorts from the chair near the bed and passes his cup off to Jared while he drowsily wrestles his way into them, settling them low on his hips before he raises an eyebrow at Jared. “Am I decent enough for you now?”

Jared considers him, eyes trailing slowly over Jensen's torso and then back up to his face. “You'll do,” he shrugs, leading the way into the hall and down to Brayden's room.

“Hold on,” Jensen stops outside the door and rests his hand on Jared's arm. “We gotta be cool. Don't freak him out by goin' all hulk-smash on this one, okay?”

Letting out a slow breath, Jared cracks his knuckles. “Somebody beat the hell outta my kid, Jen. Ain't exactly easy to let that shit go.” Jensen just keeps watching him until he nods. “I'll try.”

When they step into his room, Brayden is sitting up on his bed, watching television and trying to eat yogurt out of one side of his swollen mouth. He doesn't look as bad as he did last night, but he doesn't look good, either. Not even close.

He tries to smile, but it falls short of reaching his eyes. Jensen grabs the remote from Brayden's side and turns the television off before he sinks to the end of the bed and motions for Jared to find someplace to land. Pacing isn't going to make any of them more comfortable.

Brayden doesn't wait for them to ask; he just starts answering. “There were four of 'em. We tried to walk it off at first, but they just kept followin'. Talkin' shit. Comes a point when you just can't listen anymore, ya know?”

Jensen does know. He's been in his fair share of fights, but he's never tried taking on four guys by himself. Brayden has put on a little muscle in the last year or so, but he's still skinny. Jordan is even more scrawny, if no less scrappy, so there's no way this could have gone in their favor. “They were talkin' shit about Jordan?”

Brayden's best friend hasn't been out of the closet for long, but Jensen knows how fast word can spread in a high school. While Brayden and the rest of their friends don't seem to have a problem with it, there's a whole lot of the student body who probably do.

When Brayden shakes his head, Jensen is a little surprised. Jared doesn't seem to be, though, when he deduces, “They were talkin' shit about you.” His fists ball at his sides and he practically growls, “About us.”

They've never hidden who they are, from Brayden or anyone else. Hell, Jared's out and proud on national television. He knows that Rick always had a problem with them being gay, but it's never bothered Brayden so Jensen has never considered how it might affect him outside of their home.

“I am so sorry, Bray,” he says without really considering the words. He's not apologizing for what he is, but rather, for the way it hurt his son. He's been through enough without adding even more fodder to the rumor mill.

“Dude, they don't like me for a buncha reasons,” Brayden waves a hand like it doesn't even matter to him. “My dad’s in jail for bein' a junkie. I've slept with half their girlfriends. My best friend and my other dads are giant homos. I'm on TV sometimes. We've got a lotta money. There's a whole laundry list of shit they hate me for. Y'all just happened to be the one reason they picked this time, 'cause,” he stops and tries to lick his lip, but cringes when his tongue touches his stitches. “''Cause they know my family's the one that gets to me fastest.”

It's visible, the way Jared goes from tightly strung to loosely defeated. Neither of them can argue with that or feel bad about the fact that Brayden will stick up for his family even when the odds are stacked against him. They both do the exact same thing.

When he can find his voice again, Jensen says, “Well, we're not gonna beat up a bunch of high school kids, but -,”

“Chad might,” Jared interjects thoughtfully.

He's probably not wrong, but that's not exactly the point Jensen was going to make. “You want help some other way with this one, you let us know.”

Brayden huffs and carefully scoots toward the edge of his bed. “I might stick close to home for awhile, but I'll be alright. You guys don't have to hover,” he rolls his eyes and then looks from Jensen to Jared and back again. “Go to work.”

The fact that he's looking at Jensen when he says it tells Jensen just how right Jared was last night. Rounding the bed to walk behind Brayden into the hall, making sure that he's not going to fall on his face or something, he says, “Man, you took one hell of a beating for your family. The least I can do is take a couple days off for mine.” The expression on Brayden's face is worth the decision.

*

After nearly six hours of watching movies and throwing Gummie Bears at Jared's head, Jensen is staring out the kitchen window, immersed in thought while he watches the sun burning high over the ocean in the distance. It's barely three in the afternoon, but he feels like he could sleep for a week or more. It's been far too long since he let himself relax and just let go of everything.

A thick arm loops around his neck and for a long time, Jared just holds Jensen against his chest, face buried in the back of his hair while his hand flexes against Jensen's shoulder.

“I thought we were making his life better,” Jensen says, voice quiet like Brayden might overhear.

Jared huffs and pulls him tighter. “We are. Some people are just assholes.”

It really is just as simple as that, Jensen realizes. They do their best to be good people, to be there for their friends and give Brayden the best life that they possibly can, but in the end, they can't protect him from everything and everybody.

“Come on,” Jared says, kissing the side of his neck before he takes his arm back and offers his hand to Jensen. “We're gonna order pizza and start another movie.”

Jensen nods and scrubs his hand over the top of his hair and then his face. “I'll be there in a second,” he assures Jared, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Jared's eyebrow shoots up, and Jensen shakes his head. “It's not work, I promise.”

He's not entirely sure that Jared is convinced, but he leaves the room and Jensen hits a few buttons on his phone. When the voice on the other end sounds in his ear, he takes a deep breath and sags against the counter. “Hey, Mom,” he greets as easily as he can. “No, everything's cool. I just. I was thinking about you.” He doesn't say that he's never appreciated the way she feared and worried about him as much as he does right now, but something tells him that she knows it anyway.

By the time he gets back into the theater, they've already started the movie. Jensen eases into his place between Jared and Brayden and tries to focus on the screen instead of the looks they're both shooting his direction.

A few minutes later, Jared leans over and whispers, “You okay?”

With a nod, Jensen lets his hand rest on the inside of Jared's thigh. “Yeah.” He tosses another Gummie Bear and laughs when Jared catches it between his teeth. “My mom says 'hi'.”

There are no more words between them, but the way Jared throws his hand over the back of Jensen's chair and scoots a little closer says everything Jensen needs. His family is here and, for the moment, they're both safe. That's all that matters, and he's going to try his damnedest to remember that when a thousand other obligations clamor for his attention. His business could fall apart tomorrow, but someone could break his boys just as easily. Jensen knows now which one of those scenarios he wouldn't be able to survive.