Where the laws of physics... Have no Meaning

epicallytired @ 2013-10-03T16:36:00

2013-10-03T20:37:05Z

I'm reviewing Top Chef Season 11 each week for Phoodie Phoodie the Philebrity.com Food Blog
check it out, it's still me so there's like typos and tangents and stuff.

I miss my flist. I know we've all moved on, such is the nature of fandom.

Yay?

I did a new thing. It's scary, hold my hand, please.

2013-07-29T22:17:45Z

Philebrity.com has a red sauced stepchild called phoodie.info. My brother does a bunch of stuff on there and when I ran across Supermarket Superstar, on Lifetime networks I asked him if he wanted me to review it.

He said yes.

and here is my review, snarky, informative, and as surreal as the show itself. Please to be enjoying and increasing traffic so I look good to my big brother.

Life goes on

2013-07-25T05:04:50Z

Turns out I was epically tired because I stopped sleeping 37 x an hour. So now i sleep like Darth Vadar and am tired because I adopted

This little girl:

her name is Maggie May
She'll be a year old on Oct 1st
She's a terrier/miniature schnauser mix. ie Mutt.
she weighs 15 lbs and is full grown
Crash loves her
Twink's still deciding
Yeah, she has an underbite. wanna make somthing of it?

Loss

2013-06-15T03:32:57Z

Jack Died on Sunday June 2nd.

He is missed.

Indigo Repost

2013-06-05T17:15:09Z

This fic used to be up at a community that is now defunct
it was written by myself and raeschae

Being a hotel manager isn't exactly the career every little boy dreams of when he's growing up. Jensen Ackles knows that, but he likes his job. It's never boring, for one thing. There's always new and exciting people to meet, issues and concerns to deal with, and interests and hobbies to cater to. His best friend, Chris, says that he's crazy for taking a job where he does nothing but bend over to satisfy other people. Says he might as well just become a prostitute – could probably make more money that way.

Of course, there are times when people get on his nerves, but Jensen's never had a problem keeping himself distracted. His new gig at the helm of the swanky Hotel Indigo in downtown Houston provides more distractions than most. There are people further down the food chain that he could order to handle the task at hand but Jensen really doesn't mind. Quiet time alone is good, too.

Now, if he could only get these bows to look even. He's seen rooms like this before: bed filled to overflowing with gift baskets and boxes from whatever company is bringing this guy in, already appreciating everything he's going to do for them. There is fruit, and shower products, and candy, and alcohol. Jensen's seen it before, but never quite like this. He doesn't know who Jared Padalecki is, but if someone's grateful enough to make sure his entire king-sized bed is covered in gifts, then the least Jensen can do is make them look presentable.

Which is how he finds himself in the midst of the madness, bottle of champagne in one hand, and a block of gold foil-wrapped chocolate in the other. The red bow that he ripped off of the wire basket is draped loosely around his neck, and he'll re-attach it just as soon as he figures out how to fit everything back inside the piece-of-shit-passing-for-modern-art container. And this time, the damn bow won't look like someone stepped on it first.

The plan is good, but when he hears the front door of the suite crashing open and a heavy sigh from who he can only pray is Mr. Padalecki, Jensen kind of panics a little bit. Pushing baskets out of the way, he ambles off the bed and barely makes it to his feet, before he hears a deep, “Hello?” from the front room of the suite.

Eyes wide, he searches for a place to set the bottle, but he's too late. The shadow falls and Jensen looks up, expression guilty, to find the biggest fucking brick house of a man grinning wildly in his direction.

“Well, hell,” the man laughs, shrugging out of the blazer he's wearing and letting his eyes rake unabashedly over Jensen's body. His own jacket is back at the front desk, and he feels half-naked under the hazel gaze of the Adonis checking him out. “You sure are prettier than the usual guy,” he winks.

There's no time to so much as process the words before Mr. Padalecki is pressing him back against the bed, pulling the champagne and chocolate from his hand and sweeping half of the baskets Jensen's already arranged onto the floor with his long arms.

His fingers deftly untie the bow from Jensen's neck and he blushes down to his toes when Mr. Padalecki says, “Best fuckin' present they ever sent over.”

He's naked with three of those long, strong fingers between his lips and there's a faint nagging in the back of his mind that this is fucking weird and he's supposed to be working and he doesn't know shit one about this guy pawing at him and sucking the side of his neck. But before he can process the thoughts, his brain shuts down completely at the overwhelming sensations of hard, sweat-slicked skin and soft, spit-slicked lips sliding all over his body, so he doesn't really have time to think beyond, 'yes' and 'fuck' and 'sweetJesusgood.'

In fact, it's not until he's lying boneless under this guy's enormous frame, having come hard and fast like a cheap whore, that Jensen realizes that's exactly what Mr. Padalecki thinks he is. Prettier than the last one. Present they sent over. He thinks Jensen is a motherfucking prostitute.

When Mr. Padalecki rolls to his side and chuckles to himself, hand trailing his own stomach as he catches his breath, Jensen takes the opportunity to scramble to his weak legs and grab his pants from the floor. His eyes catch on the long, tanned lines of the man's thighs he blinks and shakes his head to chase off the errant 'stay' thought that wanders in from some dark corner.

“So much better than the last one,” Mr. Padalecki chuckles again, having hoisted himself up onto his elbows to watch Jensen scramble around the room.

He knows that his cheeks are blazing, though he's not sure if it's because this guy thinks Jensen's the best prostitute he's ever had, or if it's because he thinks Jensen's a fucking prostitute in the first place. For a brief moment, he wonders if the last manager experienced this on his third day at Indigo.

“Um,” he stammers when he's managed to button his shirt, hands smoothing over his hair. There is not a chance in hell he's going to look like he's been arranging gift baskets by the time he gets the lobby. “Enjoy your stay at Hotel Indigo, and let us know if we can be of any further assistance,” he says in a rush, fighting to keep from running to the front door.

As it slams behind him, all Jensen can hear is the bellowing laugh of the man on the bed, and he can only hope that nobody stops him between here and his office.

Jensen takes a moment in the elevator to check his hair, (it’s thrashed), check his tie, (he has to retie it three times with shaking hands before it looks right), and check his general, just fuckededness, (it’s there in spades, his lips are swollen, there’s a hickey on his neck and he’s got stubble burn on his face.) He smoothes his shirt with his palms, straightens his shoulders and tries to bypass his head concierge to get to his office. He’s never been that lucky.

“Jensen, what the hell happened to you?”

Jensen leans over the front desk, letting it support some of his weight. “That’s what I’d like to know. I was arranging the gift baskets for Mr. Padalecki and then…”

“You fucked Mr. Padalecki?”

“Well, technically he… wait, how do you know?”

“First, you look about as freshly fucked as any human I’ve ever known and second, Tom was late.”

“Tom?”

“Mr. Padalecki’s usual.”

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “Usual what?”

Danneel just stared at him, tilting her head like she thought his naïveté was cute.

“We do that?”

“Of course we do. You’re the one who wanted to leave the corporate shoebox of well known chains, well, welcome to the seedy underbelly of boutique (she used air quotes) hotels. We provide a (air quotes again) Complete Experience of Unparalleled Customer Service.”

“Stop quoting the brochure to me. Who is this Tom guy and are there others?”

Danneel laughed and waved at a tall man with broad shoulders and an angry expression. “He slammed the door in my face. I’m not gonna get paid.”

“You were late. We had to go with someone else.”

“Someone else? Who? I’m always called for Mr. P.”

“Well, we found someone who can say his whole name. Now go home. We’ll call if we need you.”

“But…”

Danneel glared and Tom left.

Jensen, whose ass was starting to hurt, and was having an odd moment of being turned on by the just got laid smell that Mr. Padalecki had coated him with, stared at her. “We do this? This is something we do? Provide people”, he lowered his voice, “prostitutes for our clients.”

“Yes, we do this, and we do it well we match what he wants and what the client is willing to pay, you were a generous gift from a major employer in our fair city.”

“Danneel!”

She looked up at him. “Yes?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, just… don’t get caught.”

“Please, I use one of the most discreet escort services in the area. Now why don’t you go get cleaned up. Your assistant has been looking for you; I think you have a meeting.”

“Oh shit, Junecorp! I’m on my way.”

Jensen leans against the front desk; there are no guests in the lobby and he’s been working non stop for the last four hours trying to organize the Miller-Blanchard rehearsal dinner. His event planner got engaged to the groom from the last wedding and everything’s more of a mess than even Danneel can sort out on her own. As a result he hasn’t checked recently to see if a certain Mr. Padalecki has a reservation. Today seems to be all groups of rooms for companies and events. He turns to tell Danneel something and feels a large hand wrapping around his tie.

“Thank god they sent you again; I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

Jensen yelps. It’s not something he’s proud of, but it’s absolutely what he does, and then Mr. Padalecki’s mouth is on his and no sound is forthcoming as he’s bent backwards over the desk. He can hear himself blushing. He can feel Danneel staring at him and smirking.

He doesn’t even try to say anything as he’s pulled by the tie twisted twice around Jared's hand. In the elevator Jared presses him against the wall, his knee in interesting and important places, his hands already starting the process of removing Jensen's clothes.

By the time they’re in the suite Jensen's shirt is unbuttoned, his jacket is half off his shoulders but the tie is still there, tethering him to Jared almost as much as his dirty wrong desire is.

Mr. Padalecki tosses him on the bed and stands over him. “You’re so fucking hot, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Right here.” Did that just come out of his mouth? Jensen wonders what the hell is happening to him and then Mr. Padalecki is naked and he doesn’t care about anything but what’s happening to his body.

It’s better than it was before, like Mr. Padalecki has cataloged the things Jensen likes, and now it’s nothing but the top ten of everything Jensen wants. Hands, mouth, hot, soft, sharp and sudden, slow and sultry, all combined until he’s face down and whimpering into the pillow with his ass in the air like the whore he’s pretending to be. He considers for a minute how much money he wasted on college if this is what it’s like to be a whore.

But once he comes, and Mr. Padalecki has as well, and tossed the condom, he feels a sharp slap on his ass and comes back to reality, retrieving his clothes and pulling himself back together. The hotel manager in him comes back online. “Would you like something from our…*ahem* the room service menu?”

“Naaah, I’ve got a booze and snooze later. I’m gonna sleep for a couple hours before I head back out. “You were great” Mr. Padalecki waves at an envelope on the table. “That’s for you.”

Jensen's face turns, he’s sure, some shade of red heretofore only seen on pomegranates and bricks. “Thank you sir but I’m already adequately compensated.”

Mr. Padalecki raises an eyebrow. “An escort turning down money? That’s new.”

“Thank you sir.” And Jensen leaves, taking a moment to lean against the wall and catch his breath before he heads out the back door and bums a cigarette off of one of the catering staff. He quit smoking years ago but Mr. Padalecki is changing all the rules.

They say that insanity is repeating the same actions and expecting different results. Well, despite the fact that he’s pretending to be a hooker for sex with a really fucking hot guy he still refers to as ‘mister.’ Jensen’s not insane. So he’s not going to fight with the baskets all over Mr. Padalecki’s bed on an afternoon in early October. Experience has taught him that all of his hard work will not be appreciated when the Mr. Padalecki pushes them all onto the floor.
So he sets about meticulously moving each basket from the thick comforter to the marble top of the bar on the opposite side of the room. Why he didn’t think of this the first time, he doesn’t know. Though he suspects it could have something to do with the way he didn’t realize he’d be thrown onto said bed and ravished like a buffet before a starving man.

The layout is pretty spectacular this time, if he does say so himself. Arranged by size, color, and content, Jensen has spent the better part of fifteen minutes making sure that everything is in place and nothing has been forgotten. And before anyone asks, he absolutely does this for every guest at Indigo.

“Thank God you’re already here,” the exasperated voice sounds behind him as he’s fixing the last basket to the exact perfect angle.

The 'Welcome back, Mr. Padalecki' is on the tip of Jensen's tongue, but it catches there when he turns to see Mr. Padalecki throw his jacket onto the bed and rip his tie from beneath his collar. Then it's all groping and lips and there are bottles falling, fruit thudding, and cellophane crinkling as it hits the floor. So much for the bar, Jensen thinks, just before the buttons of his shirt scatter and he finds himself twirled as though he weighs nothing and pressed hard into the cold marble.

"Just arranged those," he grits, eyes falling on the crushed and broken baskets.

"Fuck 'em," is the response growled in his ear, and it's hard to think about baskets of bath soap when there's an enormous palm cupped around his rapidly hardening cock. "Been thinkin' about you for the last three hours," Mr. Padalecki growls, and Jensen doesn't think about the fact that he's naked and sprawled, face first, over the bar in his own damn hotel. Because if he thinks about that, he will tell this pushy fucker to get off of him so he can go back to work, and frankly, Jensen doesn't want to go back to work. Not when Mr. Padalecki's lips are pressing hot and wet against the back of his neck, and he's interrupting his own kisses to say things like, "So fuckin' hard thinkin' 'bout fuckin' this tight ass."

It's not the most comfortable position Jensen's ever been in, but there are enough positives to this scenario that he doesn't think about the way his left knee keeps knocking the bar's wooden base, how his chest will probably be bruised all the way across from the way he keeps getting pushed into the smooth top. In fact, by the time he's been fucked, lifted onto the bar and fucked again, and then joined up there and fucked some more? Jensen can't even remember where he is, let alone how uncomfortable he was a few minutes ago.

When he's regained reasonable use of his legs, he slides from the bar and sets about gathering his clothes again. He has a job to do, after all. Isn't actually a hooker, though it's really hard to remember that with the soreness in his ass and the dried come on his belly. "Alright, well," he starts, stepping into his boxers and looking anywhere but up at the man who is peeling a chocolate orange from one of the baskets they managed not to send over the edge of the bar. "Enjoy your stay," he mutters, hopefully somewhat cheerfully. He still is all about customer service.

But as Jensen turns to go, Mr. Padalecki grabs his wrist and spins him back, pulling until Jensen's standing directly between his spread, naked thighs. “What's your hurry?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he considers Jensen's face. “You're always so quick to run the fuck outta here.”

Without warning, he leans forward and thrusts the half eaten section of chocolate between Jensen's lips.

Sweet Jesus. He thought that being fucked by this perfect specimen of a man was going to be the highlight of his day, but this candy? Fuck all, it's orgasmic. The low rumble of a moan that escapes from his lips proves as much. He can feel his eyes roll back in his head as it melts against his tongue and then slides back down his throat.

“Fuck,” Mr. Padalecki groans as Jensen's tongue pushes the chocolate back into his mouth and his lips wrap around the other man's fingers to keep them in place until he's swallowed. “Prettiest lips I've ever fuckin' seen on a whore,” he mumbles when Jensen releases his hand.

Mr. Padalecki leans in, possibly to share the flavor of the chocolate from Jensen's tongue, when his words sink in. “Hey!” he exclaims, and when the fuck did he brace his hands against the hard lines of this guy's legs anyway? Prettiest lips I've ever fuckin' seen is not the worst compliment he's ever gotten. It's the on a whore that Jensen doesn't really know what to do with.
“You prefer 'escort'?” Mr. Padalecki asks, amused. “Maybe prostitute? Lady of the night?” When Jensen just rolls his eyes, the other man laughs. “What's your name?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” he answers and then thinks maybe he's taking this 'playing a hooker' thing a little too far.

Mr. Padalecki laughs from deep in his belly – Jensen knows because his eyes are kind of fixated on the way the taut muscles of his abdomen roll beneath his tight skin when he does it. “That's terrible,” he finally says.

“Jensen,” he concedes when their eyes meet again. “I prefer Jensen.”

A long, thick thumb swipes over his bottom lip, and if he was both stupid and insane, Jensen might think it was something other than humor in the Mr. Padalecki’s hazel eyes. “I prefer Jensen, too,” he winks, dipping his head to nip at the skin of Jensen's shoulder, not even bothering to blush when Jensen rolls his eyes and points out that his line was slightly better than that bull shit.

God, it would be easy to stay. He really wishes he had a reason to, other than the shouting of do it, do it, do it, in the back of his brain, but Jensen can't deny that it wouldn't suck to spend his afternoon here, eating chocolate and fucking around with this business man from fuck knows where. Easy, but a really, terribly awful idea.

“I better get going,” he smiles when he pulls away, eyes fixed on the man staring back at him.
“Why?” Mr. Padalecki asks, refusing to fully release his grip on the Jensen’s wrist.

“Mr. Padalecki, please,” he begs, though he hopes it doesn't sound like begging. Because that would be kind of embarrassing. If he doesn't let go soon, Jensen's not going to be able to walk away. And he really needs to get back to the front desk. He hasn't seen enough of Danneel's knowing looks to last him quite an entire lifetime yet.

The only response is Mr. Padalecki staring at him until Jensen lifts his head and meets his eyes. “Call me Jared,” he says. “Do you have another appointment?”

Does he have another . . . he's not a fucking prostitute! Except that, for some reason, he can't say that, and he has no fucking idea why. Instead, he shakes his head. “No, but,” he starts, only to have another piece of chocolate orange pressed smoothly between his lips. Dirty, dirty pool.

He can't help wondering if the orange-infused candy tastes better because he doesn't normally allow himself obscenely expensive candy for no reason, or if it's because Mr. Pada – Jared – is feeding him, fingers brushing over his lips, smearing chocolate there and promising to lick it off later.

It's a pretty heady sensation, what with the adrenaline and the endorphins, and the contracting thighs beneath his flexing fingers. Add the chocolate and it's no wonder Jensen doesn't so much realize that Jared is leading him toward his lap like a puppy with a treat. When he does figure that out, he wonders if it's more or less demeaning than being treated like a prostitute.

Of course, when Jared wipes his chocolate-slicked fingers against the inside of his thigh, Jensen's licking and sucking at the sweetness without preamble or consideration, and he has to admit that he's kind of dog-like in his exuberance. He's not wagging his tail or anything, but there's definitely licking, and possibly drooling as he savors the flavor of the candy against the saltiness of Jared's skin. If he did bother to stop and think about what he was doing, the hand on the back of his head is pretty much all the confirmation he needs of what’s expected of him.

Now, Jensen? he asks himself. Is now the time he lets Jared know that he's not actually the hooker Jared thinks he is?

“Come on, Jen,” Jared protests, hips sliding forward until the head of his cock rubs over Jensen's lips. “Yeah. Now, man. C'mon.”

Fuck protesting. Maybe Jensen missed his motherfucking calling in life. He's whimpering and writhing and following directions from the man seated in front of him, the weight of Jared on his tongue even more exquisite than those chocolate oranges. It should be weird – blowing a guy he doesn't even know and has only seen three times in his life. It's not.

Or, if it is, Jensen doesn't notice because his brain overloads and short-circuits and he's being pulled off with a fucking whine, as Jared slips from his mouth and strokes himself to completion.

Leaning forward, weight almost completely supported by the bar, he mumbles. “You're killin' me, man.”

Jared just smirks and slides off the bar, patting Jensen's ass on his way toward his suitcase. “You takin' off now or stickin' around for awhile?”

He needs a shower. Desperately. But he's not about to ask a guest if he can use the shower to clean himself up. Even if a hooker would. Which, he doesn't know, because he's not a fucking hooker.

Instead, he shakes his head and gathers his clothes, hoping he can make it to the laundry room without anyone noticing. He really should remember to bring a change of clothes to the room with him next time, instead of leaving it in his office. “See ya 'round, Jared,” he smiles briefly, aiming for aloof, cooler-than-you hooker. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure it sounds more like a crushed-out schoolgirl.

As the manager, checking for high profile reservations is part of his job. Jensen takes it a step further and checks daily for new reservations for Mr. Padalecki. It’s six weeks before the name pops up. He stares at it for almost a full minute, biting his nail and debating what to do before he calls the spa and books an appointment for himself. Full body wrap, pore cleansing and a wax. After all, he owes it to his client, erm, patron, erm, Mr. Padalecki, to look his best.

He’s in the room arranging gift baskets and wondering what the hell it is Mr. Padalecki, Jared, does for a living that earns him more peanut brittle and sandalwood body wash than he can carry.

He spends almost an hour after the arranged check in time in the room. Mr. Padalecki never arrives.

He makes himself visible in the lobby, adjusting and arranging displays and inspecting the area, hoping he doesn’t look like what he feels like, a hooker trying to look casual while waiting for his John. Jared never shows. Jensen goes home at midnight.

The next day he feels oddly dejected and entirely stupid. Hookers do not get upset when a client doesn’t show. He is convincing himself of that, reminding himself that he is not a hooker and debating ordering his usual working dinner, (turkey on rye with mustard and a pickle) when Jared blows in, grabs Jensen's hand and drags him to the elevator.

Jensen is naked, and covered in his own come while Jared is tossing the condom, before Jensen really has a chance to say anything.

“You were scheduled for yesterday.”

“New assistant, he’s still learning the ropes. Doesn’t think to call the hotel and let them know. They would have let you know, I guess.”

“Um, yeah, just, I guess I waited.”

“I’m sorry. You still got paid, right? I mean…”

“What? Yeah, it’s not about the money.”

Jared's mouth twitches in a way Jensen is learning means that he is trying not show his amusement. “You feeling neglected? ‘Cause last time I checked, you’re kind of doing this for the money, right?”

“What? Yeah? Just… I waited, and… you never showed.”

“If it were a date you’d have every right to be mad, kinda why I don’t date.”

“Yeah well…” Jensen stands up, reaching for his pants, ready to go order his turkey sandwich.

“Hey, since there’s no way you have another appointment tonight…”

“You don’t know that.”

Jared stars at him 'til he slumps.

“No appointments.”

“Well, I’m starving, and the Rangers are playing the Astros so, I can order some room service and we can, you know, eat, and watch the game. You look a little tense.”

“What would you like?” Jensen falls quickly into hotel manager mode.

“I’ll call; just tell me what you want.”

“Really?”

“Really, couple of steaks? I think I can swing the cost.”

Jensen blushes; he doesn’t know why he is so surprised. Even if the cheapest steak on the menu is a $75.00 Kobe beef strip steak, he guesses Jared can probably afford that and an ala carte potato.. Seeing Jared’s questioning look, he nods. “Medium rare, fries, not the baked potato.”

“Excellent. See if anyone sent those chocolate oranges you like so much.”

Jensen doesn’t know who he is, because even in his regular normal sex life in his own apartment he doesn’t walk around naked but here he is, in his motherfucking place of employment rifling through a bunch of gift baskets, naked, looking for chocolate oranges.

He checks his watch. Jared orders at eight twenty two. The food shouldn’t take more than twenty five minutes. They sit in bed, Jensen showing Jared how this TV remote works, the same way he’d learned when he’d done his two weeks as a bellman. He hears the knock on the door, at eight forty nine, someone’s getting written up, and he disappears into the bathroom to “freshen up”. There’s no reason for the kitchen staff to see him naked and in a guest’s bed.

There’s no reason for him to be naked and in a guest’s bed, but that’s a different issue entirely.

He takes a whore’s bath, (never a more accurate phrase) and emerges in one of the hotel robes.

Jared had the food set up on the bed, but pulls on the tie of Jensen's robe and then tugs once in just the right spot so it slithers off his shoulders and onto the floor. “Much better. C’mon, food’s getting cold.” He slaps Jensen's ass. Jensen yelps but joins him on the bed where Jared feeds him steak and French fries and generally is astoundingly good at getting forgiven for standing Jensen up.

When they’re done, and Jared has licked the last drip of steak sauce from Jensen's lips, they turn their attention to the game. Well, Jared does. Jensen spends the time studying Jared's body. Long and muscular sort of go without saying but there’s more to his appeal than the time he spend at the gym, or his god given wide mouth, big hands and really to be fair, amazingly proportional cock.

Jared is so comfortable in his own skin Jensen wants to ask how he does it. How he sits naked next to a virtual stranger, running a hand through his sex tousled hair without a bit of self consciousness. Is it just because he thinks Jensen's paid to deal with it?

Jensen is about to ask him when Jared's hand lands high up on Jensen's thigh. It’s not, Jensen knows, a precursor to sex, at least at the moment, it’s just a comfortable spot. Jensen feels his body respond, his thighs creep open a little more, and his cock gets a minor blood rush, filling half way at the possibility of more contact. The heat from Jared's hand radiates through his thigh until Jensen feels boneless and sinks a little deeper into the mattress.

Jared looks over at him, smiling. “Tired huh? Did I wear you out?”

Jensen thinks now might be a good time to assert his ability to do more than show up naked and speak occasionally between sex, and steak and the glorious feel of Jared's hands on him; what he comes up with is, “mmmphf.” He hears Jared chuckle before his eyes close.

When he wakes up it’s almost an hour later and he’s somehow migrated 'til his head is on Jared's chest and his body is using Jared as a pillow.

He sits up quickly and Jared smiles. “I wore out a professional, should I be impressed with myself of complaining to your supervisor?”

“Mmmph? What?”

Jared coats Jensen's lips with a wedge of orange chocolate and Jensen's tongue comes out to trace the line while trying to find a way to right himself without becoming Mr. Grabby Hands with Mr. Padalecki. Eventually Jared helps him and they sit and watch the game. “Astros are up 7 – 4 “.

“Good, kinda hate the Rangers.”

“Doesn’t everyone.”

“So um, what do you do?”

“Huh?”

“For a living. How come people send you, you know, gift baskets and liquor, and… me?”

“Oh, I consult on organizational development of functional fields and sectors.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t mean anything, so don’t feel bad if you can’t make those words make sense.”

“So what do you do?”

“I do consulting for companies with more money than sense. I have a bit of a rep so they go out of their way to be nice to me. Trust me... it’s pretty much the same thing you do, only your job is more straightforward.”

“I just make sure that each guest is satisfied with their experience.” And Jensen bites his lip, that’s what he does as a hotel manager… that’s not what Jared meant.”

“Exactly. So, this can’t be what you set out to do.”

“Well, no, but I went to college.”

“You did?” And Jensen is once again hit with that urge to smack the back of Mr. Padalecki’s head. “I did.”

“What was your major?”

“I was undeclared but then I found out about the hospitality industry…”

“Perfect fit.” Jared's dimples are really deep. Jensen can’t help smiling.

“I guess, and here I am.”

“Well, I’m actually glad you’re here.”

“What do you do with all this stuff when you leave, it won’t all fit on a plane?”

“I just leave it. I figure housekeeping can use it.”

“You should donate it to a charity, housekeeping gets paid but there are kids who don’t get presents.”

“And they should get martini glasses and bottles of gray goose?”

“Those can go to staff but…”

“Okay, I’ll tell them to donate it on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You take the chocolate oranges. I wanna think of your tongue following the line of one of those things when I’m in Cleveland next week.”

“Cleveland, huh?”

“I traveled forty three weeks last year. I know every city in the US at this point.”

“You got a hooker in every port?”

“Not every port.”

And Jensen's flare of jealously is insane. Knowing that doesn’t make it die down. Instead he rolls over on top of Mr. Padalecki and kisses him, sharing the last bite of chocolate orange.

Jensen sneaks out of the room at four in the morning.

When he returns to the hotel at noon he makes sure that there is a note to donate the stuff from Mr. Padalecki’s Room to Star of Hope. He snags the chocolate oranges and splits the alcohol between Danneel, himself, and the staff who gets the gifts to the program.

Jared has already left but not without, according to Danneel, stopping at the front desk to make a reservation for the middle of November, just about a month from now. She mentions three times that he came to the desk and made the reservation himself, something he apparently never does.. Jensen wants to blame Jared's new assistant’s incompetence equally as much as he wants to think it had nothing to do with that.

Jensen makes note of the date and focuses on his real job.

Jensen put Jared out of his head for a while. The situation was ridiculous, the sex was great but no matter how much fun they had watching the game or eating chocolate together, it wasn’t a ‘relationship’ and so there was no need to dwell. The next several times Jared, Mr. Padalecki is in Houston they have a good time, fucking, and laughing and eating and leaving. Mr. Padalecki is excellent at all of them. Even when his stay is over a week long and covering several companies, and things start to feel comfortable, when it’s time to check out, he does so without hesitation, and Jensen tells himself that it’s the best thing for them and that he has no lingering thoughts either.

He tells himself that over and over again as he deals with guest complaints, watching Tom come in and out of the hotel, clearly at the behest of someone, for the relief of someone else, and of course overseeing fucking Indigo, one of the top rated high end Houston hotels. Nope, he doesn’t think about it at all and if he makes a particular effort to this time stack the gift baskets on the dining table that never seemed to get used? That was just good organizational skills, the kind he learned in college where he got his degree in hospitality and hotel management. Thank you very much.

He also did not, not at all, not even a little bit, notice that a lot more of the baskets seemed to contain fruit infused chocolate, nope.

He also, just for the record, isn’t waiting for Jared in his room; he is simply checking the room for guest satisfaction and setup. He’s almost finished when Jared arrives. Instead of the usual boisterous greeting followed by a playful mauling and some quite enjoyable manhandling… with maybe a side of ravishment there is just a weary sigh. Jensen turns, his smile, the one meant to match Jared's, dies right there. Jared isn’t smiling. He’s standing like his arms weigh a thousand pounds each and his coat is too heavy a burden to bear, his shoulders hunched, his face a little flushed and, as Jensen steps forward he realizes it’s also covered in a sheen of sweat.

He doesn’t hesitate; sliding Jared's coat off of him, and then removing his shirt, making quick work of his belt and pants, feeling the heat radiating off the man as he does it. He pulls the covers back and bustles Jared into bed.

Jared reaches out for him, croaking out something about rescheduling and Jensen can’t help it, he rolls his eyes and then tucks Jared in with the blankets tight around him. Once he’s convinced Jared's in a good place to sweat out the fever he calls down for some chicken soup, juice and ginger ale, crackers and Tylenol. Jared's asleep long before he’s done with his exacting orders to the staff.

It’s not some server who brings the items up though, and Jensen will admit that he was expecting this. It’s kind of Danneel's job to handle things like this, both for guests and as his friend, for Jensen. He is cowed by her disapproving look, though.

“So you’re not just his handy piece of ass, now you’re his nursemaid?”

“He’s sick; I’m just helping a guest.”

“A guest who keeps fucking you because he thinks some company is providing you for just that service.”

“That’s not entirely his fault.”

“Oh for the love of… you’d be better off letting me hire Tom for you. At least that would be more honest.”

“Danneel. Did you bring the thermometer?”

Danneel sighs and hands him the box of disposable thermometers. He breaks it open and holds tone against Jared's forehead. “102.3, so just leave us alone; he’ll probably be fine in a couple of days. Can you call his assistant and have whatever meeting he has scheduled for tomorrow postponed, or cancelled?”

Danneel stares at him and he can see the wheels turning as she goes through the things she wants to tell him but in the end, she nods, rolls the cart just inside the room and leaves.

Jensen breathes a sigh of relief when she’s gone and goes back to the master bedroom.

“Jared. Jared.” He singsongs it, trying to wake the man gently… he ends up shaking his shoulder so hard that if this suite were sharing a wall someone would get the wrong…or usually right but wrong this time, idea about what was going on in here.

Jared finally wakes up, grumpy, groggy, and green around the edges.

Jensen gets the Tylenol into him with some ginger ale, and moves the soup aside.

“I’ve gotta…”

Jensen smoothes Jared's hair off of his forehead and shushes him. “You’re sick. Just sleep for a while okay?”

Jared nods and practically passes out once his head hits the pillow. Jensen thinks maybe he should go downstairs, go to work, but he’s worried about Jared, about his fever spiking, about how it seems like maybe he’s been working through this flu/cold/plague thing for a while now. He lies down next to him with his hand splayed across Jared's heart, so he’ll feel it when he wakes up.

There’s a throbbing in his head, a dull ache in his arms and legs, and the weight of something settling on his chest. Groaning at the effort it takes to pry an eye open, Jared lifts his head from the pillow and the sound bites off when he realizes that Jensen is tucked in close to his side, hand resting heavy against Jared’s chest.

The clock beside his bed says that it’s 2:30 in the morning. And while it’s not unusual that Jared fall into bed with a hooker, waking up next to one six hours after arriving isn’t exactly his M.O. “Jensen,” he says, but the word makes his throat burn, and it sounds like someone’s been standing on his windpipe for an hour or twelve.

Shifting when he receives no response, Jared blinks his eyes slowly open to stare at the ceiling above him, and wills himself not to think about how stiff his left arm feels under Jensen’s weight. The weirdest part is that he doesn’t care. He’d rather let this guy sleep than pull his arm back and kick him out of bed, like he would with any other prostitute his clients send him.

He wasn’t supposed to become the guy who travels 43 weeks out of the year and sleeps with hookers in every town. This wasn’t his dream growing up or anything. Being successful, and having more money than he really knows what to do with is nice. He’s built a reputation for himself, and it’s an impressive one. He’s proud of his accomplishments, and of the perks that those accomplishments bring him.

In order to bring Jared into a company, he has to be booked almost a year in advance, and always with the understanding that he won’t be able to stay for more than a week. Occasionally, if the incentive package is tempting enough, he can be goaded into two, but he tries to spread himself out as much as possible, to meet the demand.

If he’s honest with himself, that’s probably why he’s shivering, sweating, and aching now. His mother says he works too hard, that he doesn’t stop long enough to take care of himself and that he’s going to make himself sick someday. If he called her right now, he’s sure she’d have that stupid ‘I told you so’ dance ready for him,.

He misses them. His parents live in San Antonio, only about ten minutes away from his house, but Jared was only home for nine weeks out of the last 60 and most of that he spent enjoying the comfort of his own bed. He has a routine there, and it just doesn’t involve spending a lot of time with his folks. Or anyone, really.

At his side, Jensen huffs in his sleep and rolls his face, his stubbled cheek pressing against Jared’s shoulder. It’s strange that this random hooker in the middle of wherever the fuck he is takes better care of him than anyone he knows, right? That’s not normal hooker behavior.

Of course, Jared’s learning that Jensen’s not the average hooker. With his other, er, gifts, Jared walks into the room, places his order (not at all unlike room service), and then kicks back to enjoy the night that his company of the week is providing. Tom used to be an excellent part of the package he had here. But Jensen? Jensen’s in another league entirely.

Jared’s never really been the kind of guy who gets attached. It’s probably why he’s been able to adapt to the traveling consultant lifestyle so easily. He doesn’t really need a set routine for stability in his life or anything, so he doesn’t get used to the specific men waiting for him in hotel rooms around the country. They’re not only interchangeable, they’re also about as mobile as the television stand mounted to the floor. His brain knows that he can’t actually have them, and his body seems to follow suit with that understanding.

And now this guy, who really doesn’t act like any hooker Jared’s ever fucked around with, is making Jared stay in bed while he calls the kitchen and demands soup and juice. He’s pretty sure he heard Jensen ordering the concierge to keep the hallway clear of noise and guests so that Jared could get some uninterrupted sleep. It’s possible that Jensen isn’t real at all. That he’s some kind of angel. And that Jared’s meant to marry him.

Of course, he’d have to stop being a hooker for Jared to marry him. He has standards, after all. Or, rather, his mother does. It wouldn’t be that hard to get Jensen to quit, though, he figures. He’s a good guy, and he seems to like Jared. He could propose, over dinner, that Jensen leave his current pimp, or handler, or whatever the fuck he calls the guy who books his appointments. He could offer to buy out Jensen’s contract, all romantic-comedy, grand-gesture style, and then rip it up symbolically, just before sweeping Jensen up in his arms and carrying him over the threshold of the house that once felt too empty, and is now full of Jensen and love.

“Fuck,” Jensen growls at his side, and Jared didn’t even realize the guy was awake. “You’re still burning up.” His hand presses against Jared’s forehead and cheeks, and he chases the touch with his face when Jensen pulls back.

He doesn't say anything, though. Just lays back and fights to keep his eyes opened. The fever is clearly making him delusional (he can't marry a hooker - this isn't Canada), and he’s wasted too much time sleeping already today. “Meeting,” Jared croaks and Jensen shakes his head, fingers trailing over the slick skin of Jared’s chest.

“At three in the morning?" Jensen challenges. Jared can feel his lips quirk at the sarcastic tone in Jensen's voice.

He's really pretty, Jensen is, and Jared figures he should know that. "You're hot," he slurs, eyes closed as Jensen keeps trailing fingers over him arm. "Hottest fuckin' hooker I ever seen."

Thanks," Jensen mutters and then stops the journey of his hand over Jared's forehead. "Wait," he says. "The fuck," and then he stops himself again. He looks flattered and confused at the same time, but being as Jared's out of his head, it's possible that he's seeing things. "Go back to sleep, Jared," he says before sliding out of the bed

When Jared wakes the second time, sunlight is pouring through the windows of his room, and his body feels like it weighs a metric ton. His tongue feels thick and there might be someone trying to pound their way out of his skull. "Fuck . . . me," he growls, the words scratching at his vocal chords, and the cough takes him over before he has a chance to realize it's coming. He pulls himself up in the bed and accepts the glass of water being offered him before he sees that it's attached to Jensen. "You're still here." He tries to smile, but it's possible he just looks insane.

Jensen's smile, on the other hand, does not look insane. He's wearing the same perfectly-tailored pants he always wears for their appointments, and a soft-looking white dress shirt hangs open, revealing a hint of tanned, shower-fresh skin. If he didn't feel like absolutely shit, Jared would think that he had lucked out and ended up in heaven overnight.

He struggles out of the covers and manages to sit up and get his feet on the floor before a round of dizziness catches him off guard and sends him wobbling. At least, it feels like he's wobbling. "Hey," Jensen's there, on his knees in front of Jared, with his hands anchored on Jared's thighs. "Take it easy, man," his voice is velvety smooth and soothing. "Lay back, okay?" He's pushing and Jared's body is following as though he doesn't have important business to attend to or something.

"Meeting," he protests.

Jensen shakes his head and sits on the side of the bed, manhandling Jared into a semi-seated position against the headboard of the bed. "Don't worry about the meeting, alright?" Jared raises an eyebrow, and it feels like it's trying to rip a hole in his face. "I, uh," Jensen stammers and looks at his hands and then back up. "I had the manager call your assistant and tell them you were going to be out of a commission for a few days."

He's been every bit a man since the moment Jared met him, but right now? Jensen looks like a small child, a little boy hoping his mom doesn't get mad at him for bringing her tulips, even though he ripped them out of her flower bed. "You . . . assistant. . ." he stops trying to make sense of the words and looks at Jensen with a furrowed brow. "No work?"

Standing, Jensen points to his chest. "I have to work. You have to lay here and get some rest." With a soft smile, he grabs something from the table and tosses it. Jared's not so much aware of what's going on, so the television remote drops to his side with a soft thud, and it makes Jensen grin bigger. "I'll stop in later tonight and see how you're feelin', okay?"

The squeeze in Jared's chest is either jealousy over the fact that the guy is leaving to go suck someone else's dick while Jared lies here suffering, or it could be because everyone caters to his every desire, but nobody's really given a damn about his needs in a long fucking time. It's most definitely because Jensen's unlike any other prostitute Jared's ever met. Or it could be he's coming down with an upper respiratory infection.

Yeah, it's definitely the last one. For sure.

Once Jared is fully recuperated from what turned out to be a mild case of pneumonia, he leaves, packing up everything including his house call prescribed antibiotics and disappearing without so much as a goodbye.

Jensen tells himself that it’s okay, because really, who stays to say goodbye to their hooker?

He’d think about it more but the holiday season is upon them all and Jensen spends most of his days overseeing large events planned by corporations and families who don’t feel like handling the clean up themselves.

He marvels at the insanity of the request. “No ma’am, we can’t allow monkeys or a pony inside the hotel. Yes, it is the holidays, but we still have to follow health codes.”

“Of course we can do a holiday party with no theme of holiday, winter, religion or the colors red, green, blue, silver, gold, orange or purple.”

“Of course sir, only top shelf liquor and four bartenders.”

He’s so busy he almost doesn’t notice that he’s worried about Jared but when he does he realizes he’s been ignoring his personal life in order to stay available as the hooker in Houston for Jared. It sounds fucked, even to Jensen, who‘s doing it, so he accepts the offer of dinner from Paul, who runs the linen service he uses.

On the third date, when he has no excuse not to take things beyond after dinner groping in the car or by the door, he calls an audible, claiming an early morning racquetball match. He spends a lot of time making sure someone else deals with the linen delivery from then on. He goes out once with a guest who owns some major company across town but can’t help wondering if it’s one that Jared consults for. He never returns that guy’s calls either.

He’s heading towards his office with a sandwich when he gets shanghaied by Danneel who’s glaring at him and refusing to allow him to get by. “You’re holding out for a guy who thinks you’re a hooker.”

“I am not.”

Her eyes narrow and he drops his head a little. “A guy who’s as much fun and as interesting as Mr. Padalecki, not necessarily Jared himself.”

“So what are you gonna do the next time he shows up here?”

“Hide and have the service send someone else.”

‘Someone else? You think he won’t notice?”

“He didn’t seem to care I wasn’t Tom. We can send Tom back.”

“Tom?”

“Tom.”

“Tom went back to school. He’s getting his master’s in history.”

“Really?”

“All that paid time you freed up for him made him think it was time to do what he always said he would.”

‘Well then, who else does the service have?”

‘I don’t know, you talk to Chad more than I do lately.”

“Chad? Michael Murray? Chad? What’s he got to do with…?”

“Chad runs MaleMaster.”

“Wait, M – A – L – E master? I thought it was M – A – I – L like, postage and shit.”

“You think he can afford only top shelf liquor, the platinum hors d’oeuvres package and a sit down surf and turf on mail? No, he’s also the owner of BeaverDam but they have their party next week.”

“Chad, skinny blonde kid, that’s who my pimp’s supposed to be?”

“Kid’s a marketing genius, by the way. You want me to ask him or do you just want to peek into the party and pick someone out for Jared yourself.”

“We’re throwing a party for hookers, a whole room full of hookers?”

“And bookers, and assistants and admins, and how is that different from what we usually do?”

“Just… never mind. Just get someone else for Jared.”

“Uh huh.”

Jensen peeks into the party to make sure one of their most upscale events of the year is going well. Chad is standing on chair.

“Shut up. Listen you mother fuckers!” He whistles between two fingers. “Whores! Listen up. There are kids who need stuff. Put the money or the presents over there. You get paid to take a dick up your ass, don’t cheap out now.” After a moment he nods. “I return you to the open bar and free grub. Ya mooches.” And the music and revelry starts again.

Jensen shakes his head. The best party of the year is held by, and for, hookers.

He spends New Years Eve making sure no one is choking on their own vomit.

He spends New Year’s Day nodding determinedly as he reminds himself that this year he will not sleep with anyone who thinks he’s a prostitute.

Turns out, it’s not really an issue. All of January passes without a single booking for Mr. Padalecki. Valentines Day goes by in a flurry of hearts and flower themed champagne engagement dinners for guests. Tom occasionally takes an old guy out to dinner but there’s a new MaleMaster catering to the upscale business client and Jensen is settling back into the job he loves.

It’s all going as planned, sort of.

Jensen doesn't want to be flattered by the fact that Jared grabs his wrist and drags him through the lobby when he finally decides to make an appearance in mid-March. He doesn't want to feel the thud of his heart in his chest and the spike of adrenaline running through his veins. He doesn't want to feel fucking relieved that Jared is growling filth in his ear during the entire elevator ride. And he sure as hell doesn't want to be this fucking hard by the time Jared rips his shirt and shoves him, face down, on the bed.

Danneel's getting fired. She was supposed to find someone else for Mr. Padalecki if he ever decided to stay with them again. She was supposed to make sure that Jensen knew Mr. Padalecki was checking in, so that he could lock his office door and hide under his desk until time to go home for the night. She was supposed to do her fucking job, and her ass is getting fired.

Of course, he's not really thinking about firing her when Jared lays back on the bed, naked as the day he was born, and winks in Jensen's direction. “You have any idea how many times I've thought about you in the last couple months?” he asks and Jensen flushes.

He wants to admit the same, but then Jared goes on to talk about how hard it is to find a decent whore in fucking Toledo, and Jensen remembers exactly why he's not supposed to be doing this anymore. Almost spills the whole truth.

And then Jared says, “So why don't you come over here and remind me why I love that tight little ass so much,” and it shouldn't make him stutter, but Jensen can hardly remember his own name. Really only remembers the feeling of Jared inside him, and he's working himself open with three fingers while Jared jerks him slow and mutters dirty things in that low voice again. Maybe one last good-bye isn't the worst thing in the world.

When he's come so hard he's pretty sure his legs won't work for the next week, Jensen rolls onto his own side of the bed and fixes his eyes on the ceiling. Would it be so terrible if he kept the charade up a little bit longer? Really? It's not like he can't plan some parties and check on other guests while occasionally spending a few extra hours with Mr. Padalecki whenever his schedule allows him time to blow into town. I mean, what's a few extra hours?

“So, I wanted to, um,” Jared starts at his side, pushing himself up onto an elbow and looking intently at Jensen. “I wanted to thank you. For making sure that I was taken care of back when I was sick.” It seems like Jared is maybe a little bit better at taking gratitude from other people than he is as giving it. “I know that's not part of your job description or whatever, but it was . . . it was nice.”

Jensen wants to tell Jared that it was nothing, but he can't. It is above the call for most people in Jensen's chosen profession (the one he didn't chose), but he wasn't just going to let the guy pass out, or worse, either.

Instead, he just shrugs his shoulders. “Not that nice, really,” he plays it off. “I mean, you die and I get no more chocolate oranges, so . . .”

“So you're just using me for my candy then?” Jared's eyebrow shoots up, crooked smirk on his lips.

“Well, obviously,” Jensen replies. “What? Did you think it was because of your awesome body and your perfect cock? C'mon, man.”

Jared laughs, and it's this amazing sound that Jensen can't even describe. There are low chuckles against his skin during sex that turn him inside out, but then there's this full-belly, shoulder shaking laugh that bounces off all four walls in the room. That's the one that he can't tell Danneel about. That's the one that has him in deeper than he's willing to admit, even to himself.

“You're somethin' else, you know that?” Jared angles his muscled body toward Jensen and rests a hand on his thigh. “You should come with me.”

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. “To work?”

“Yeah,” Jared huffs a laugh. “Cause I'm sure the suits at Telecom wanna see how I play with the toys they send me,” he rolls his eyes and goes on. “What I meant is that I have this ball-numbing trip coming up in the Midwest. Contrary to what you may think, being spanked with the Bible belt is not sexy or remotely exciting.” When Jensen doesn't speak, Jared squeezes his thigh. “Come on. What do you say? Six weeks with me? Get you outta here for awhile? I'll buy you all the chocolate oranges you can choke down.”

“I can't,” Jensen answers, eyes fixed on the hand resting against his skin. Fuck if he doesn't want to, but he just can't. “I have to work.”

“Well, I'm not askin' you to do it for free,” Jared scoffs like that much should be obvious. “I can afford you on my own, ya know?”

And just like that, the house of cards crumbles. Pulling himself out of the bed, Jensen can't meet Jared's eye as he begins to gather his clothes from the floor. “I'm not a hooker, Jar . . . Mr. Padalecki,” he mumbles as he bends over to retrieve his shirt.

“What?”

Straightening, Jensen steps into his pants and pulls them over his hips. This conversation was never going to be easy, but naked would be a thousand times worse. Probably. “I'm not a hooker, okay? I don't . . . What we do . . . I don't,” he stops and sighs, running his hand over his face before slipping his arms into the sleeves of his shirts. “I don't get paid to have sex with men for a living.”

The expression on Jared's face can only be confusion. “I don't understand,” he says.

“I'm the manager of Indigo,” Jensen gestures with wide arms to the room around him. “I manage this hotel. I have an graduate degree in Hotel Management and Hospitality. That's why I'm always here when you show up. Why I'm always running out when we're done.” Somehow, he thought that telling the truth was going to be easier. That it wouldn't matter. And maybe that Jared wouldn't look like a kicked puppy. “I never meant for this,” he starts and then stops himself because there's really no excuse for what he's been doing.

“But you were here,” Jared says, brow furrowed as he works through the information Jensen's giving him. “That day . . . with the champagne . . . and the gift baskets.”

Nodding, Jensen tucks his shirt tails into his pants. He wants to point out that Jared never bothered to ask him if he was actually a hooker. Didn't bother with small talk at all. But ultimately, he knows that he was the one who was responsible for ending this charade. And he just never did.

“I was,” he can't help chuckling a little bit, “I was making sure the baskets were arranged. I was going to welcome you to Hotel Indigo and introduce myself. And then you were,” he bites his lip and takes a breath. “Things moved so fast, and I should have told you a thousand different times, but I just . . . I don't know why I didn't.”

Jensen's not sure if Jared even hears him. He just sits there, looking confused and hurt, possibly betrayed. Could be a little bit angry, but Jensen realizes that he doesn't really know what Jared looks like when he's hurt, betrayed, and angry, so maybe he's way off the mark. Maybe he's thinking about something completely different. Like work. Or something.

“I need to get back to work,” Jensen says, smoothing his hand over his hair. He smells like sex and the soreness in his ass is making the walk to the door difficult, but he knows that he can't stay. Turning, he throws one last look at the man on the bed. The man he's had a hell of a good time with over the last nine months, for whatever it's worth. “I'm really sorry, Mr. Padalecki. Please continue to enjoy your stay at Hotel Indigo.”

He kicks himself in the hallway for being a complete ass. That last line was ridiculous, but Jensen's a little bit more concerned with the fact that there are tears pricking the backs of his eyes, and a pain in his chest that has nothing to do with the way Jared left him breathless just a few minutes ago. Walking away shouldn't be this hard. But it is.

Jared checks out at six forty-five the next morning. From his office, Jensen watches him amble through the parking lot, load his suitcase into the back of his rental, and then peel out like a high school kid with mom's car for the weekend. He sinks to his chair, cradles his coffee, and resolves to try and believe he did the right thing.

By ten o'clock, he's up to his eyeballs in an over-booking situation, the lobby filled with enthusiastic high school cheerleaders and costumed Star Trek fans.

At five thirty, he's ready to find a bar, a drink, and a warm body to take his mind off the suck-fest that has become his day. His life.

“You should go,” Danneel advises at 7:30, when the cheerleaders are at the university for their competition and the Trekkies are loaded into the main conference room for the night. “I'll call you if we need you,” she adds.

With a nod, Jensen pulls his car keys from the pocket of his wool coat and tells his concierge to have a good night. But when he turns, his breath hitches in his throat.

Jared is there, and Jensen almost offers his hand so that Jared can pull him away. Instead, he stuffs both into his pockets and waits. Doesn't even flinch away when Jared's hand rests on his shoulder. He can do this. He can be a big boy.

“Come with me,” Jared says, eyes boring into Jensen's with an intensity that almost knocks him back.

“Mr. Padalecki, please. I told you,” Jensen starts to repeat everything he said back in Jared's room.

But the finger pressing over his lips shuts him up pretty quick. “To dinner,” Jared clarifies. “Come with me to dinner.”

Dinner? “Like a date?” Jensen asks, and yes, he's aware that he sounds like a moron. But it's a little bit weird, isn't it? The guy who thought he was a hooker, and now knows that he's just a liar, wants to take him to dinner? What the fuck?

“Nah,” Jared shakes his head and runs his fingers down Jensen's arm, wrapping them gently around his wrist. “Not like a date. An actual date. Where the only way I pay for sex is buying you dinner and pretending to listen to what you have to say about yourself.”

He can't help it. Jensen smiles, pulls his hand from his pocket and squeezes Jared's. “Yeah. Okay.” He tosses a look over his shoulder to find Danneel leaning her elbows against the counter, watching with a shit-eating grin on her lips. “Where do you wanna go?”

Jared shrugs and follows Jensen to the sliding doors at the hotel's entrance. “The only places I go in this town are the offices I work in, and suite 1120. You're gonna have to show me around a little bit.”

Jensen leads the way into the slight chill of the Houston spring time, smiling again when his shoulder bumps against Jared's and the warmth shoots to his toes.

“What's funny?” Jared asks, unlocking his rental with the key fob.

“Nothin',” Jensen answers as he pulls his own door open. “Just thinkin' we have pretty much the best 'this is how we met' story ever.”

HELP!

2013-04-05T03:03:49Z

My external Hard Drive died today and had to be reformatted. But see, when i backed up all my stuff on it in December so I could get a new computer, i never moved the stuff BACK onto my actual computder Hard drive.

Most of what I lost was useless, But now my fic is out there on the internet but i don't have the single file versions I usually make to store in case i need them.

So if a site goes down *cough*bjfic.net*cough* it'll be gone forever.

If you have a Doc file or a PDF file of any of my stuff, QAF or SPN, just email it to me. I'll be forever in your debt.

Thanks in advance.

This is all because i changed my name isn't it? It's some sort of sign or Karma or something, i just know it.

Hi, It's Vamphile

2013-03-31T01:51:01Z

So, Yeah, I changed my name, after fourteen years. It was time.

All my fic is still there, all my bookmarks and tags still work, blah blah blah.

So now you know.

I am now and for the forseeable future

EpicallyTired.

Little bit of this and a little bit of that.

2013-02-21T00:10:20Z

I'm having a mixed episode. That means i'm depressed, but also aggravated, having trouble sleeping and impulsive.

So, Two weeks ago the UPS guy dropped off a couple of packages that I never ordered. One was a bunch of vitamins and the other was a Xbox 360 game. I took the game to gamestop and they told me if i opened it they'd give me twenty bucks for it but they could not take it back unopened. Huh?

I took it to walmart, in the same parking pad and they gave me a store credit for 62.xx bucks. YAY. I also had a Better Homes and gardens brand comforter and two shams. I bought them before I painted my room. The set has never been opened and is a deep burgundy color with embroidered brown flowers. In my new pale green room it'd look like a fucking christmas scene, and we all know how i feel about Christmas.

So i took it back to walmart today along with a sheet set i got but didn't realize was 60% poly.

I received a $72.00 credit for all this stuff.

I was kindly told that no returns from me would be honored without a reciept for a year. I'm okay with that, i'm not a big returned.

the point of this is, after i got my gift card, i scurried my fat ass back to the electronics department and plunked them down on a Nook HD 7" tablet. My out of pocket cost for this was 66. that's not bad, as i've been wanting one for three years.

A lot of the television i watch is now offering "dual screen viewing" and i want to see what that's about, plus, because i have minor cataracts and I have difficulty seeing small print, (forties are when it all starts to go, right?) i can now read books again.

It's charged and now i'm going to set it up. I ordered a case and screen/glare thingy on amazon, so i should have them soon.

I'm kinda excited.

SUN

Sad but True

2013-02-01T06:59:06Z

valerie_z Died last week.

This is tragic for so many reasons that I can't even enumerate them.

That's not why I'm posting.

It stands to reason that her site, (where some of my QAF fic) and much better stuff written by her will eventually disappear. (her sister can hold her in her heart, but she doesn't have to also be her webmaster yo)

So, you might what to back up her brilliant works while you can.

I have no idea how to make this post sound appropriate because well, i have no idea how to express how much i cried my own tears and although i've known her forever we weren't what you would call close. I just think the world was a better place with her in it, and i know her literary brilliance was one i was have enjoyed for like, ever, since we wrote a stupid BtVS story together at a party.

Anyway go to http://www.valerielewis.net/bj/ at the top there's links to stories, her vids, her BtVS fanfiction, probably her band slash and whatever else. I'm just sayin'

picked a paint color

2012-08-25T04:32:06Z

it's the second to the last one, the pale green, called aurora borialis.

compared to my very greek/mediterainian saturated blue, i think it will be calming and lovely.

the saga of my bedroom continues.

Painting will be done next weekend.

My Mother

2012-08-17T20:38:38Z

It's August 17th, which means it's time for my annual salute to my dead Mommy.

She was mean, and angry and half the reason I'm so fucked in the head that I think anyone who loves me must be fucked in the head themselves.

And although she died in 1999, She'd have been 72 years old today. And she would have nursed my Father through his hip replacement without being resentful of me (unlike his current wife)

She was smart, and occasionally fun but mostly, she was my Mommy and even on the days when i remember all the reasons I used to yell at her to Fuck off and die! at the top of my lungs. I still miss her because a piece of my life, of my self is missing without her.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY

The continuing saga of a clean bedroom

2012-07-31T13:36:47Z

So, as i mentioned in this post Cleaning out three years of not ever tidying up my room has been harrowing.

This morning I woke up and realized that the the sliding glass door that leads to my room's slip was showing. As a reult there was a sharp and painful shaft of light directly in my eyes.

I tried to fix it. The whole damn thing came down. I tried to put it back up... Dead curtain rod.

I texted my houseboy and told him it was an emergency. He's gonna call me on his lunch break from work. I'm seriously considering boarding this door up. I never use it and it's fifty feet from my neighbor's driveway...with no fence. AAAArgh.

So I went online to find room darkening curtians that will cover a patio door, Oh and a new curtain rod that will hold that kind of weight.

I found some pretty ones but i don't want to commit to a color or pattren because i'm seriously gonna get my bedroom painted in the fall so...

Beige curtains, rod pocket and the rod wih a cut little silver domed finial at the end... for the low low price of 102.36

That's including shipping, O.co yo. 1.00 shipping at the moment.

so, that's done.

so is the face plate problem. (i've never had one so when you walk in, it's just a bare switch, not even a fifty cent white cover.

It's expensive to have things organized and pretty.

Tomorrow, or maybe later today I'll regale you all with the story of the stolen blender.

My new Switchplate, (my design style is eclectic shabby chic

Update

2012-07-30T22:29:41Z

so here in this post from yesterday I mentioned all that laundry to be done. I went to wal mart today because i pretty much tore through my cleaning supplies yesterday. I needed more trash bags, some pledge, some lemon scented floor cleaner, straight up bleach, color safe bleach etc.

Because of my back, (one of the reasone i got into this mess in the first place) I have to use one of those motorized carts at walmart because the one near me is HUGE. I also needed groceries so i figured i'd pick up some staples as well and then you know, not leave the house again for about a year.

I also needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions and a blender (my dr. said to drink less water and if my mouth was dry, suck on crushed ice)

so i got the blender, my drugs, and a new tooth brush and blah blah blah and as I got to the cleaning and grocery section the cart started beeping.

OH NOES!!!! battery's dying. I got it to the front of the store right before it went kaput. They didn't have any more carts on either side, so the primary purpose of my walmart trrip was now an impossibility for me. GRRRR.

So i went to Kroger where they have carts and food, and i went down their SINGLE aisle of cleaning supplies. The main thing I needed was color safe bleach because every article of clothing had been an area rug for the last two years. Stains, yo.

I had three options. THREE! Oxysomething, clorox2 or the store brand.

I ended up calling my fastidious and wonderful best friend in a panic, sitting there in the middle of the store and asking him what works. (yeah, i don't usually give a shit about laundry, i do it, the clothes aren't that dirty to start with and end up clean and smelling nice when i'm done) but this is industrial level laundry.

turns out, he uses clorox2 for some stuff and oxy for other stuff, but i don't think he understands that they're not made for different stuff, or maybe I don't understand.

Laundry has literally been the hardest part of adulthood since i got my own place. If you asked me if i'd be willing to go through the year my mother died again if it meant my laundry would always be done and folded I'd do it. Seriously, there has been NO TIME since i was sixteen that i didn't have five or six loads pending.

I have so much laundry because I'm so bad at it, so i lose things in the piles, and then just buy new things. I found things today i didn't know i owned and that was in my recently worn shit.

so, yueah, this cleaning thing is going to be an ongoing process.

If you've read this far, wow... you really care about my laundry, that's um... flattering?

But I was in hell for two and a half years, and now it's taken me six months to sort of peep my head out... excuse me if there are still some visible singe marks on my clothes.

Oh, and a bonus question or two.

1. best laundry tip

2. best color safe bleach

3. best spray on stain remover (I love Zout)

Holy Shit I'm s Slob

2012-07-30T02:20:17Z

So after a mean boy told me he had no interest in fucking me again because my house was a pigsty (he spelled pigsty wrong btw) i gave some real consideration to the fact that for the last 18 months if not more my therapist has been telling me to hire someone to clean my bedroom as it was making me miserable.

I went crazy(er) and my chronic back problems got worse at the same time, (about three years ago)

for the first year it was messy, and i'd take the trash out occassionally, but it soon fell into full on disrepair, like that show about earth without people where the whole thing just crumbles, or you know, that show hoarders, where bags of trash and new items snuggle deep under a layer of paper plates and takeout boxes.

So I finally broke down, (or manned up) and asked the kid who does work around my house and mows my lawn (by kid i mean 21, with a daughter and a girlfriend) so yeah, kid. So texted him to as for help because I was too chicken shit to ask out loud.

he respoonded with, "that's what i'm talkin' bout" because he's cleaned my kitchen, loves my dogs, and has seen my room.

Six hours of the both of us working, (him much more than I) and the floor is clear, swept and mopped.

All the cobwebs, (all seven years of them, nope, i have never dusted that room since i bought the house) have been removed.

15 Lawn and leaf bags of trash, mostly from the floor

8 Lawn and Leaf bags of laundry to do. (kinda made me rethink my online shopping cart. Maybe i DON'T need a new pair of... anything)

We're not totally done. I need to change the curtains, they're gross if you know how dusty they are, and the room really would look better painted.

but for now, If a boy decides not to fuck me again, It'll be because I suck in bed and not because you have to walk over a shifting landfill to get to my room. Pictures might come later but probably not.

The room isn't exactly pretty, it just isn't really Gross anymore.

I swear I'm not gonna take a new pic and post it every day

2012-07-22T02:41:00Z

but here are three pics of my dogs.

they're big and i don't feel like re-sizing so they're behind a cut

TWINK I swear he's not fat, he is just cuter in person

CRASH- he only weighs seven lbs but it's all attitude. (here he looks like a muppet)

JACK - 20 lbs and a big baby. I've had him since he was six weeks old. I once posted a pic of him from his second day at home, that was three phones and two fandoms ago... time flies.

Also, I think it's clear I'm a terrible photographer and and even worse photo editor. So, this is really just boredom talking.

There must be a reasonable alternative

2012-07-20T22:51:22Z

I have recently been reminded exactly how stupid boys are. I'm middleagedish, and the men I seek and talk to are in the same age bracket. And yet they're still acting like high school buffoons with no social graces or skills in the sack. (shouldn't we all get better at this stuff as we get older?)

Full disclosure: I did the lesbian thing for almost a year after I graduated college and found out that girls may be smarter but they're crazier and they don't have those shoulders and arms and hands that make me shiver, so yeah, sorry, can't switch teams, Don't judge me, I was born this way.

What's my point.

Someone give me a reasonable alternative, time killing wise, to being in a relationship. The last month has proved to me, definitively that a relationship is not a viable option for me. I am usually okay with this, and I'm sure I'll be okay with this again soon but right now, I'm a little crushed, and my muse is still frozen under ten feet of solid ice.

So... What do you recommend ?

if anyone cares...

2012-07-07T06:21:24Z

and I have to admit I barely care right now. I have, through some fault of my own, I am falling into a deep and clinical depression.

This will not effect my writing as I haven't been able to write in about a year.

I could give you all the particulars, but the gory details don't change the fact that a good nineteen to twenty hours of sleep and disappointment at waking up are draining the last of my energy.

So, um, yeah. Only posting this because it's two in the morning, I've slept all day, and have nothing better to do, apparantly, than share my misery.

That WIP meme thingy

2012-02-02T02:25:00Z

It's everywhere:

Post a few sentences from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!

So, I'm verbose and even my "first couple of lines are actually practically whole conversations. sorry.

1. an atmospheric character study

Jensen was lost. It was something he’d never admit to. Not to Chris, not to Danneel, not even to Jared. He had plans, one year plans, five year plans, ten year plans. They required revision, cost-benefit analysis and constant vigilance and they kept him moving forward. His plans were clear and neat, like long flat stretches of Texas highway, but lately his plans were resembling the PCH, curvy, with sharp bends that lead blindly forward into god knows where, and diverting seemed like it might lead to sudden death.

2. a dumb ass fic that should never be seen or worked on again:

“Really, what’s this say?” He held the book over Jared's elevated foot. Jared squinted past his leg, encased in plaster from his hip to his instep and tried to focus on one of the large print words but the fucker was moving the book, just enough to make it impossible.

“I can’t read that.”

“So you do need help. See. Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

“No, why are you here.”

“I’m a volunteer aide.”

“Volunteer? Really?”

“Well, community service.”

“And you got assigned to me?”

“No, just to this building but hey, beats washing fire engines.”

3. Jensen as a supermarket manager?:

Jared came in at the end of march with another stack of flyers. His sixth since the original one. “hey, so there’s a glass blowing exhibit at the Blue Cloud Gallery. Wine, bad puff pasteries, good cheese and you know, some really kick ass art.”

“sure.”

“really?” Jared looked excited. Jensen tilted his head.

“really. Go ahead and put the flyers up. I just cleared to board so there’s plenty of space.”

Jared looked disappointed. He took a step closer, Jensen fiddled with the packages of sugary ducks he was setting out for Easter. Holding it in both hands and then turning his attention and body back towards the shelf.

“I was hoping you’d come with me.”

And the kicker was, Jensen wanted to go with him. loved art, loved hand made pieces. Used to create stuff back, a lifetime ago, when he had space and time and hadn’t given up on it. He wanted to go. “okay, yeah, we can go but…”

“but what?”

“nothing just… yeah, blown glass and good cheese. Yeah.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“cool, so, here.” Jared handed him a flyer. “can I pick you up at your place?”

“can I meet you there?”

Jared nodded. “yeah, absolutely. You will be there, right?”

“yeah, I said I’d go so… I’ll go.”

“awesome.”

Jared walked away smiling and Jensen felt a sinking in his stomach. This is how it started. Fun and interesting and with a little flutter low in his belly. It always ended badly.

4. A mid season two parody wincest curtain fic i have like four chapters done

“Yeah, and buy some candles while you’re there.”

“Emergency candles? I thought we bought those last time we stocked up on batteries.”

Sam stood up and Dean shook his head, his body now sprawled bonelessly on his back. “I’ll do it later.”

Sam shrugged. “K.”

He was dressed, his hair still damp. Dean took a step forward to wrap his arms around him and only because Sam yanked Dean to him and ducked his head, did the bullet miss.

Instinctively Dean hit the floor, Dean's arms still wrapped around him. “What the fuck was that?”

Another bullet plowed through the house exiting the far wall. “Either someone’s on our lawn shooting at us, or it’s a big gun, Sam. Let’s get to the basement.”

The basement was cinderblock, and there was, Sam noticed, a devil’s trap on the ceiling. Sam was pretty sure there was one under the small rugs by the front and back doors too. Dean paced. “Fuck!” His hands running over Sam in a purely military manner now, checking his head and then over his shoulders, making fast clean sweeps. Sam twisted away. “Dean, if I’d been hit, we’d know. It went through the house.

“Yeah, who wants you dead that bad?”

“This week? They could have been after you.”

“Okay, who wants us dead that bad?”

5. Nanowrimo 2011 that i haven't even edited for grammar yet:

“you’re kinda gross you know that right?”

Jensen nodded against Jared's collar bone and Jared laughed. “c’mon, let’s get this done. That sex isn’t gonna have itself.”

Jensen nodded and took Jared's alarm clock off the bed along with his own toiletries. “I’m keeping this so that you’ll have to come see me again at least once.”

“I have a cell phone, I can use that.”

Jensen's eyes narrowed and Jared took a bottle of shampoo from Jensen's hand. “just to make sure that you have a reason to come see me.”

Jensen smiled and turned to leave. “you know half my shirts are in your drawers.”

Jared sighed. “we’re going to have to untangle ourselves one of these days.”

Jensen headed towards the front door and Jared swore he heard him mutter. “but not today.”

Hooker!Fic, J2, R(ish)

2011-11-17T20:39:18Z

Hooker!Fic

2011-11-17T01:18:47Z

Title: Hooker!fic
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2
Rating: R(ish)
Word Count: 13K +/-
Summary Jared's a Hooker. Jensen works at the local outreach center. They like each other… a lot.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago. I’ve been working on something else since and keep forgetting to post this. So, now I’m remembering to post it. Feedback’s nice, if you’re into that kind of thing

Thanks to: passing_through and candygramme and raeschae for the beta work, (yes, it took three people)

Jensen was working on next weeks schedule at one of the tables in the cafeteria. He technically had an office but rarely used it, he needed to be available in case someone came in looking for services or one of the many people already receiving services needed something. He was trying to figure out how to give Stephanie the three days off she needed for her sister’s wedding without working six twelve hour days in a row when a family walked in, their movements awkward, not sure where to go. He’d seen it a hundred times, or more. He’d lost count.

The man, boy really, couldn’t be out of his teens and a young woman, a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her jeans were all sort of staring at the floor. Eventually the father squared his shoulders. He was taller than Jensen had originally estimated. Jensen stood up and smiled, walking towards them. “Hi. He crouched down to meet the child’s eyes. “How are you doing?”

The kid, a boy by the looks of his clothes, but that was still just a guess, hugged tighter to his mother’s leg and Jensen stood up. “I don’t think I’ve seen you guys in here before.” The mother shook her head. “We were staying with my sister but her new boyfriend…” she shook her head and Jensen understood. “Well, c’mon back to my office, we can do a little intake paperwork and get you some help, okay?”

She nodded and Jensen ushered them towards the back where they’d have some privacy. He was surprised when the father turned around to leave but the mother didn’t seem surprised so he figured he’d find out what that was about as soon as he could.

He pulled out the basic intake form, staring with the names and ages of all the members of the family. The mother was 19, the kids 3 and 6 months, and the father…?

She shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since my first trimester. When he found out I was pregnant again he left.”

“But…the man you came in with…” Jensen left it open waiting for her to fill in the blanks. She seemed genuinely confused and then suddenly her expression cleared. “Oooh, him, he was just showing me where you were. I thought you were on the other block. I don’t know him, but he said the area wasn’t so good to be walking around with two kids.“

Jensen nodded and continued gathering information. Belinda’s story was one he’s heard before. Kicked out by her mother for getting knocked up by a black boyfriend, moved in with her sister, who was living in a section eight apartment and on TANF. Between the two of them they had five kids and four adults in one two bedroom apartment. Sister gets a new boyfriend, he comes with a drug addiction and a criminal record and Belinda is now on the streets. He takes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the kitchen for the three year old boy, Malik, and makes sure she’s already signed up for WIC and Famis. “We’ll be able to give you a cubicle with two cribs for about a month while we get you lined up for something more permanent. We have some daycare for six months while you conduct a job search, and we have someone who’ll help you with that as well.”

She nodded and he introduced her to Danneel who ran the women’s shelter, handing off her paperwork and went back to scheduling. Next week was going to be a long one at this rate. He moved to the kitchen to grab an apron and give the volunteers a hand. He lost himself in the rhythm of cutting up the vegetables for the salad and making the macaroni and cheese. He was about to grab a spoon to start serving when Danneel grabbed his arm. “It’s almost five.”

“I know.”

“You got here at six this morning.”

“I know.”

“You’re going home now.”

“I…” she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Know”

“I promise, lots of people will need your help tomorrow too.”

“Okay, just… I left next week’s schedule on my desk.”

“I’ll post it after the dinner rush slows down. Go home.”

Jensen nodded and left, saying hi to some of the regulars on the way out.

~*~*~*~

Jensen unlocked his ten year old Subaru hatchback, got in and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. It had actually been a good day all things considered. They’d served over two hundred breakfasts, three hundred and fifty lunches and it looked like they’d be over two hundred for dinner as well. Shamika and her daughter had reunited with her mother, and would be back for interview and job skill training, The Center had received a donation from a local market of enough diapers to keep them going for at least a month, and an interested citizen had chaperoned a family in need to the shelter. He wished he’d had a chance to thank the kid. Jensen started his car and used the west entrance. He’d go home but first he wanted to do a quick sweep of the neighborhood, do the outreach part of his job.

He cruised down Main St. Making a right onto C Street, driving slowly so he could glance down the alleys. He found Sean at the corner of 29th and D and handed him a couple of long strips of condoms. Sean leaned back against the wall and waited impatiently for him to go away and stop ruining his after work business. Jensen conducted similar transactions as he crisscrossed the neighborhood. He was back on Elm heading home when he saw the kid who’d helped Belinda. He watched him duck his head into a car and Jensen was pissed. So, not just a helpful citizen, also a hooker. He honked, loudly and the car sped away, barely leaving the kid time to back his head out of the front window.

He pulled up slowly. The kid was scowling at him. “What the fuck was that for?”

Jensen looked at him, feigned wide-eyed innocence. “I just wanted to thank you for helping with Belinda.”

“Who? Oh, that girl, yeah, well, she was looking for you guys.”

“But you’re not?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because you’re new around here. And you haven’t been on the streets long.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your clothes are still pretty clean, and in good shape.”

“Maybe I have a sugar daddy.”

“Who sends you out to solicit on a high traffic corner where you’ll get picked up by the cops before dark?”

The kid crossed his arms.

Jensen sighed. “Hi, by the way, I’m Jensen.” And then he waited. The kid didn’t leave, but he refused to make eye contact. Finally he sighed and said “Jared.”

“Jared, nice to meet you. Why don’t we go back to the shelter and we can work something out.”

“You want to fuck me on retainer?”

“No.” Jensen worked to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I thought maybe we could find someplace for you to stay, some other line of work.”

Jared shook his head. “I’m good.”

Jensen stared at him for a few seconds trying to keep in mind what his director had taught him on his first day, and repeated often “don’t spend too much energy on the ones who don’t want the help. There are plenty of people who do.” he knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier to drive away from a kid who was headed for trouble. He reached into the large box on the passenger seat and held out two strips of condoms and a pamphlet on safe sex to Jared. “At least be safe.”

Jared rolled his eyes, holding up the condoms “these things cut into my profit margin.”

Jensen gripped the steering wheel tightly to prevent himself from dragging Jared back to the shelter by the scruff of his neck. He handed Jared a card. “Call or come by if you need anything, we can help.”

Jared walked away and Jensen drove home. So, maybe today hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped.

~*~*~*~

Jensen tossed his backpack onto the couch, microwaved a frozen burrito grabbed a beer and spread out the forms and information sheets that needed to go into the outreach packets. He started to assemble them while he watched some crappy reality television. He’d missed the last few episodes, but he didn’t really care what happened so that all balanced out.

He was so engrossed in getting all 150 packets done he honestly didn’t notice that Misha had emerged from his room 'til he propped his feet up on top of a stack of CDC STD sheets. “Hey!”

“Sorry, I thought you were done working for the day.”

Jensen just glared. He was really tired. Everyone said he worked too much but he knew he didn’t. He worked as much as he needed to in order to get the job done. That’s how work…worked, right?

“Don’t glare at me.” Misha ran a hand through is hair, which was sticking up as if this was the first time he’d gotten out of bed… ever. He was wearing a pair of lounge pants, and nothing else. It was seven at night.

Misha finished Jensen's beer and shrugged, plucking the remote from beside Jensen and beginning his seemingly never ending quest for something better on TV.

~*~*~*~

Jensen took a similar route home every day, giving him a chance to hand out more condoms and emergency contact cards. He hadn’t seen Jared again. Maybe that was a good thing and Jared had found a better way to earn money. But Jensen knew there were a million or so other reasons that a street kid disappeared and going home to his loving but misguided family was the not the most common reason.

Two or so weeks later it was starting to get cold. Fall was blowing in fast and harsh. The center had started their winter coat drive and changed their menu to reflect the weather. Jensen turned the heat in his car up as he kept the driver’s side window down and drove around each block handing out supplies when he came across Jared. “hey.”

“hey.”

“haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

Jared's arms were crossed against him, in deference to the cold, or in a defensive posture, Jensen wasn’t sure. “you been okay?”

“yeah. Fine.”

“well, the offer still stands, you know, for help, from the center.”

“nah, I’m good.”

“well, okay, then, at least take these and…”

Jared nodded and snatched the strips of condoms out of Jensen's hands. “bye”

Jensen drove home.

~*~*~*~

In the middle of the next week Jared walked a young boy, couldn’t be more than fourteen, limping, and with a fresh cut on his face, into the center. Jensen came over to help Jared. “what happened?”

Jared shrugged. “he was fine this morning. You said you could help.”

“don’t need any fucking help.” The kids mumbled through a swollen lip and bloody at the corner of his mouth and an eye that would be swollen completely shut by nightfall.

“yeah, you’re doin’ so well on your own.” Jared interjected, walking the kid over to one of the chairs that lined the room and sitting him down. “this is Jensen. He’ll help.”

Jared was gone before Jensen could turn to retrieve the first aid kit. He wanted to say something but Jared didn’t want his help and this kid clearly needed it.

It took him three days to straighten the whole thing out. Get the kid, Calvin, back to his grandmother’s house, arrange some family counseling through city social services, and clear his desk of the whole mess. He drove by Jared's usual spot on the way home. Jared wasn’t there.

He was there the next day though. “Calvin went home. Thank you for your help. He needed it.”

“no shit.” Jared's hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his voice quaked just a little. He was cold.

“Car’s heated. Have a seat for a minute. I promise I won’t try and convert you or anything.”

Jared seemed to be considering it and then shook his head. “I’m not that cold.”

Jensen nodded. “yeah, it hasn’t really gotten cold yet. But here, I’ve got sandwiches and I’m just gonna have to throw them out if I don’t find someone to take a couple” he held out two ham and cheese sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. Jared grabbed them fast, as if the offer might be rescinded. “yeah, I guess no one ever got converted by a sandwich.”

Jensen nodded and finished his slow, circuitous route home wondering how long he could hand sandwiches and condoms to kids that were probably not gonna make it past twenty-one and wondering why he bothered at all.

He spent the night writing notes he hadn’t had the time to write that day because Betsy’s husband found out where she was staying. He’d burst in threatening and yelling. He broke a chair, a crib and Betsy’s heart before the police escorted him out of the building. Thankfully that fell under Danneel's jurisdiction and it was her Serious Incident Report to complete and not his. He just had to track down another crib. They were already short on them.

He stared at the name at the top of the next note. Jamar Latimer. Jamar… Jensen thought. He knew he’d been staying in the men’s shelter for almost a week. He knew he’d eaten breakfast with him yesterday, but today… had he even spoken to Jamar today? Had he even seen him? He was on the list so clearly he had been there but Jensen had no idea how to write a note on a man he didn’t know, had shared a table with once and had done nothing for. He had done Jamar’s intake but for the life of him couldn’t remember a single goal they’d set, or how he’d ended up at the shelter in the first place.

He grabbed another beer and pushed the pages aside with immaculate timing. Misha came home just as the pages were fluttering to the other side of the couch. “problem?”

Jensen glared at Misha who took his beer and sat back on the part of the sofa not covered in client notes. “You know, your glare resembles that of a pouting four year old faced with a plate of broccoli.”

Jensen gave him the finger.

“ahh, clever.”

They sat in silence for a while, and Jensen knew he had to leave or talk. Misha could withstand silence for days, weeks even. “I don’t even know my fucking clients.”

“do you know the ones who aren’t sex workers?”

“funny.”

“Jensen, you can’t know all of them.”

“the ones sleeping there… I could bother to know a thing or two about them.”

“but you don’t sleep there. So what, you can’t remember the name of some guy who checks in at four thirty, which is, I might add, right before you’re supposed to be leaving for the day, and checks out after breakfast, which is over about when you’re supposed to be coming in. You work too many hours, and maybe it’s taking its toll on all that individualized customer service you like to provide.”

“or maybe I just suck at this job because I…”

Misha was staring at him now, waiting.

“never mind.”

“okay, but you love this job. You turned down far more lucrative offers after grad school to take a job on the front lines. So if that’s changed… well, we could use a new microwave, so I’d be psyched if you wanted to go the lucrative route.”

Jensen slammed his bedroom door and tried not to think about it, or about the fact that he was jerking off because his low-paying front-line job left him zero time for something even resembling a social life, let alone time to actually develop a relationship. Although at this rate, a random one night stand might be what he needed. He pictured the perfect guy in his head, came, and then fell asleep feeling guilty and not at all satisfied.

~*~*~*~

Over a week later he was helping to serve dinner when Samantha came in. She was what they kindly called a “frequent flyer.” She was a tiny thing, no more than five foot two, couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, in love with an asshole three times her weight and a good foot taller than she was. He got angry and violent, she got hurt and then used the center as safe place to heal before she went back to him. When Jensen had first met her, a couple of years ago he’d tried, hard, to find her someplace else to go. He’d connected her with a job coach and a woman who was looking for a roommate, she could have escaped this part of her life, but she chose not to. She always chose not to. Jensen nodded to her as she filled her tray.

“Back again.”

“You know how it goes.” She had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“I guess I do.” he dumped some cauliflower on her plate and watched as she walked with a slight limp to the far table. Once all the meals were served he took his own tray and joined her. Willing to listen, or try again, or just do something today that might feel like he was more than a glorified custodian.

“So, how’ve you been?”

She smiled and it looked real. “good, I’ve been good. I was working for awhile, but Anton called about a hundred times a day, so that didn’t last long.”

Jensen nodded and did even consider giving her some more pointless and sage advice.

“then I got some good news.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“I’m gonna have a baby.”

Jensen almost choked on his rice. How, in her situation, is that good news? He plastered on a fake smile. “Congratulations. We’ve got some parenting classes, you should…” fuck, she was crying.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

The crying got worse and he ignored her food, putting an arm around her and leading her back to his office for some privacy.

“Mr. Jensen…”

Jensen waited sitting next to her rather than across the desk from her. His office door was open, standard policy when he was alone with anyone. Danneel ducked her head in, surveyed the situation and then pointed back out to the dining room, indicating where he could find her if he needed her. He moved a box of tissues closer to Samantha. She took one, wiped her eyes and started shredding it in her hands.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“well, what do you want to do?” Jensen had a bunch of pamphlets with options from termination to adoption to witness protection like programs in order for the mother and child to leave the abuser. he wasn’t so soul dead yet that he was ready to just shove pamphlets at her. Instead he waited.

“I gotta have it. I’m already five months along.”

Jensen tried to wrap his brain around that. She wasn’t showing… at all. Tight jeans, a t-shirt and sweater and not a single sign that she was more than halfway through her pregnancy.

Samantha looked up at Jensen. “he’s getting worse, and I’m worried for the baby.”

“Have you been to a doctor. Are you taking prenatal vitamins? Are you receiving WIC?” he was asking pointless questions because the big one… “is he gonna beat you so badly you miscarry or die?” just couldn’t make it past his lips. “we can get you…”

“…away from him. I know, you all think that’s what’s best.”

“I just think you’d be happier if you felt safe.”

She shrugged. “I love him.”

He shrugged. “okay, so, are you okay now, physically?”

“kinda, I think he messed up my arm.”

She had a purse hanging off of her shoulder, it was large and when she used her other hand to remove it Jensen saw the odd angle. he’d dislocated her shoulder.

“we’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay. get you and the baby checked out and then we’ll take it from there.”

“you’re always so calm. Why can’t other men be so calm in a crisis.”

Jensen didn’t answer. He knew why he was calm. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care like that anymore.

They were heading back out to the dining room where a staff member would accompany Samantha to the ER when they heard a loud bellow followed by a clattering that Jensen recognized as chairs being tossed across the linoleum floor. He pushed Samantha behind him and walked forward in time to see… Jared? Jared body checked the guy and had him pinned to the ground. “calm the fuck down.”

“get off me before I kill you.”

Jensen wasn’t sure exactly how Jared's long but narrow frame was keeping Samantha’s boyfriend down that effectively but it was. Jamal was struggling, but couldn’t quite get free. He got an arm loose and managed to make contact with Jared's face, but just as quickly Jared had him pinned again, Straddling Jamal’s wider body with his own.

Mark, a volunteer staff member took Samantha out through the back to get her to the hospital. Jensen stepped forward and was about to assist Jared when the police arrived. They cuffed Jamal and pushed him into the back of the car. Two other officers, both familiar with the center, stayed to take statements from those willing to give them, which consisted mostly of staff. Not a lot of clients really wanted their name on any type of police report.

Jensen grabbed the first aid kit and some ice pushing Jared into a seat while he was trying to slip out the front door.

“uh uh, park it.”

“just a split lip, I’m fine.”

“yeah, let me get a look at that before you head off into the night.”

“you make it sound so theatrical.”

“well, you swooped in to save the day, so…”

“I didn’t swoop in, I saw him three blocks away, I followed ‘cause he looked like he was gonna hurt someone.”

Jensen pressed the ice pack against Jared's lip, effectively shutting him up. “you know, most people would move in the opposite direction of someone his size looking to make some noise.”

Jared shrugged. he tried to talk but all that came out was a muffled sound through the ice pack.

“you could have gotten hurt.”

Jared shrugged again and mumbled something. Jensen removed the ice pack. “what?”

“didn’t pick this job for it’s safety.”

“so what, you’re out there selling your ass to be closer to damsels in distress?”

“haven’t you ever heard of the whore with the heart of gold?”

Jensen laughed. “yeah, in fictional accounts of whores.”

Jared took the ice pack out of Jensen's hand. “I may be a whore, but it doesn’t make me a bad person.” He walked out, taking the ice pack with him.

Jensen ran the ten feet across the room and stopped Jared. “hey I didn’t… I mean… we serve hot meals here, three times a day. He grabbed a schedule off the cork board by the front door. “free food. Better than the sandwiches in my car, right?”

Jared put the ice back on his lip and walked off. he didn’t drop the meal schedule though… so there was that.

~*~*~*~

Jared started to come in for breakfast after that. Not every day, not on any kind of schedule but still, he came in, ate like someone was going to snatch the food from him before he finished and then left without saying a word to anyone. Jensen attempted, twice to sit next to him but Jared just slid down the table and away from him. Jensen tried to make contact with the other clients instead. Maybe he could write a better note if he spoke to them rather than just observed. He didn’t quite remember when he’d stopped really talking to them but he realized that he had, and it wasn’t good for the center or for the clients.

It was mid afternoon, just after the lunch rush. Usually a quiet time at the center. The young kids all down for naps, the school aged kids still in school, crisis happened in the early morning, or late at night, not usually in the middle of the day. This was a time for restocking shelves, fundraising and paperwork. He just couldn’t face any of it. Instead he sat in Danneel's office while she convinced a local retailer to donate three cribs and a bunch of onesies to the mother and infant program. When she was done and had texted Teresa to take the van and pick them up before he changed his mind she closed her door put her hair back in a pony tail and stared at Jensen. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing I’m just…”

“Burning yourself out.”

“No, I think I did that already.”

Danneel slumped. “You’re quitting?”

“What? No? Who said that? I’m not quitting.”

“But you’re burnt out.”

“I just… Samantha, she’s…”

“Making bad choices, Jensen, she’s a human, and she’s making really bad choices. You can’t take that personally.”

“I don’t, I don’t take any of it personally, that’s the problem.”

“The new kid.”

“What new kid.”

“The street kid. You’re taking him pretty personally.”

“What are you insinuating?”

Danneel sat back, hands up, shaking her head. “I’m not insinuating a damn thing, but you’re trying with him. The way you used to try with everyone. What’s up with that?”

“He’s still got potential. He’s… everyone one here is so steeped in their miserable situation all we’re doing is managing their comfort level.”

“Is that really what you think, that this is all bullshit. We’re nothing but a glorified soup kitchen?”

Jensen thought about it; really thought. “No. I know we’re not. I think I am. I think I’m just… I don’t believe I can help people affect a real change in their life. I’m spinning my wheels and handing out pamphlets and condoms.”

“What would make you feel better?”

“A single success story.”

Danneel laughed. “You want someone to become the CEO of a major corporation and start giving back to those who helped her get there? Jensen. We have success stories here every day. Samantha is in the hospital until the baby’s born, at which point she comes back here for parenting lessons and job training. Her boyfriend spent ten days in jail. How is that not success?”

“He’s out.”

“Yes, bad people will continue to exist. Did you know Betsy got a job at a day care center so she can have her kid with her all the time? She’s talking to one of the women there about possibly rooming with her. Do you remember Betsy when she came in? That’s success. Oh, and Calvin, he’s slept here for the past five nights, and he doesn’t seem to be sick or hurt. So maybe he’s off the streets, maybe he’s not pedaling his ass for cash. That’s success.”

“I guess.”

“Jensen. There’s success in this building, in this neighborhood every day, and you used to see that. You used to be that. You’ve got your supervision time in; you know Celia will sign off on it. If you want to go be a Licensed Professional Counselor, go, hang a shingle and do it. You’ll be great. You’re one of my best friends and this place will miss you like crazy but don’t be here if you don’t want to, that’s not success.

Jensen left Danneel's office feeling less sure than he had when he’d walked in. Betsy had weighed every word she’d said when she’d first gotten here, a year on the streets, seven months of it pregnant and now she had a job paying minimum wage, so… success. He sat at his desk shifting through his paperwork, filling it out mindlessly; it wasn’t hard when every day felt pretty much the same. He logged out and headed home, still circling the blocks and handing out condoms and lube packets to anyone who would take them.

It had gotten even colder. Jared was wearing a sweatshirt over his t-shirt and Jensen could still see he was shivering. He made a motion with his head. “Get in, just to warm up.” Jensen took his hands off the wheel to show his sincerity.

Jared seemed to think about it and finally walked around the car climbing into the front seat. Jensen was moving the box of supplies to the back as Jared pulled the door closed. “That must be hard to explain on a date.”

“I just let them think I’m really easy. It works surprisingly well with men. I suppose if I were straight it would take more explanation.”

Jared looked surprised for a second. “You’re not straight?”

“Nope. Why, does that make you feel less safe in the car with me?”

Jared seemed to be biting back a half smile. “I think I could probably take you if I had to. I was just surprised they let you work at a place like that with, you know…”

“My big fat gayness?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You know it’s not a disease right?”

“That’s not what that nasty little pamphlet you handed me said.”

“Hey, that was about unsafe sex, not about being gay.”

Jared shrugged. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Not really, no. I mean, I’m assuming you’re gay, but are you… just gay for pay?”

“Hard to tell. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you brought it up and I’m a nosy bastard.”

“You really are, you know that, right.”

“I just said it. Have you ever had sex with a girl?”

“Once, but… nothing to write home about.”

“And if you were to write home, where would that be?”

Jared was out of the car and down the alley almost before Jensen realized what was happening.

“Well fuck” Jensen drove home and stared unseeingly at the television until it didn’t seem completely pathetic to go to bed.

He woke up somewhere around three and considered trying to go back to sleep but decided to just get the day started instead.

The sun wasn’t out yet and the streets were a little more crowded than at six when he usually hit the corners. It was cold, but most people he saw weren’t exactly bundled up. He stopped at the alley Jared had bolted down but it was deserted. Three streets over Jared was shoving money into his pocket and getting into some guy’s car. He didn’t honk, but he didn’t move his car either. He watched as Jared's head disappeared below the rear windshield, occasionally bobbing into view. Less than ten minutes later Jared got out of the car and was leaning against a wall again, the car drove off and Jensen wondered who the fuck drove around looking for a blowjob at four in the morning.

He was deeper in thought than he’d realized when someone banged on the window. “What the fuck are you watching, you perv.”

Jensen recognized him. He’d given him pamphlets and Trojans before but never gotten his name. He wasn’t a big one for talk and had never seemed open to a frank discussion about the dangers of his chosen profession. The guy was banging harder and Jensen couldn’t drive away without possibly running over this guy’s foot. He just sat, numb, wondering if insurance covered some psychotic-should-be-client battering in your driver’s side window. The banging stopped and Jared was looking at him. Then he knocked once and came around to the passenger side. Jensen let him in. He started to move the car but Jared put his hand on the gearshift. “ If we drive out of sight they’re going to assume it’s so I can blow you, or so you can fuck me”.

Jensen put the car back in park.

“What are you doing here?”

“Heading in to work.”

“At four in the morning.”

“You were working.”

“Jensen, I’m a hooker. I have different hours than you do.”

“Yeah.”

“What.”

“I forget sometimes.”

“Forget what?”

“What it is you guys do. How do you do that, just… turn off the part that feels something?”

“Same way you do I guess.”

“I don’t…”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “You care, no doubt, but you don’t… I don’t know… sometimes you’re going through the motions. I get it. your job is probably hard too, I guess.”

“This from a kid who sells his body for money.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid, I’m legal, which, I know, is not always a selling point but I’m my own man, what I do, it’s up to me, not some power tripping social worker, or foster parent or older sibling. It’s my call. Remember that.”

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“Nothing really. I forgot I could still be surprised.”

“Yeah well, my story isn’t exactly rare.”

“No, no it isn’t.”

“You okay?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

Jared laughed. “Welcome to the rest of the world. Now why don’t you go back to your sunny happy world at the center and make every day a success!” It was Jensen's turn to laugh. Jared got out of the car and Jensen drove to the Sunshine Center, the same way he had for over two years.

Cont.

Hooker!Fic Cont.

2011-11-17T01:15:35Z

Hooker!fic 2

Jensen was scheduled to work that weekend. He didn’t see Jared, not in the center, and not on the streets. He was sitting on the couch on Monday morning, his two days off stretching in front of him, no plan, no crisis to handle, and no intention of even checking in at the center. It would be the first time since he’d started there that he stayed away for two days in a row. He considered calling friends; making plans for the evening but everyone he knew worked the same kind of crazy hours he did. In the end he spent the day getting stoned with Misha and watching football.

He had crashed on the couch and could feel Misha staring at him as he sat up, his mouth tasting like a three year old tuna sandwich wrapped in a dirty sweat sock. He came back from the kitchen with a bottle of soda, drank half of it in one pull and was less disconcerted than he should be that Misha still had that contemplative look on his face. “What?”

Misha tilted his head to the other side and tucked his legs in a position Jensen was pretty sure he’d never be able to get into, let alone get out of. “Something’s up with you.”

Jensen felt something inside him flare and break. “No shit.”

“No, I mean… something’s up with you.”

“Two master’s degrees, one and a half doctorates and the best you can come up with is “something’s up with me?” I could have told you that.”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t say anything about that.”

“Hmm, and why is that do you suppose?” Jensen had stopped paying attention and was now just staring at the television, flipping through the channels looking something to which he could pretend to pay attention.

“I think you usually begin one of our deep spiritual discussions when you already have your mind set on a specific answer. I don’t think you even know what the question is this time.”

“Well, that’s great. So my guru, professional student/roommate doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s wrong with me.”

“I usually get a lot from what I observe. Quite honestly the only thing I’m observing lately is that you need to get laid, and that’s not something I can help you with. Well I could, I mean, you’re not unattractive but I think it might make things awkward afterwards. For you, I mean. You’re sort of emotionally needy.”

Jensen stared at him. “You’re telling me I need a boyfriend.”

“No, I’m telling you that you need to get laid. You’re hearing that you need a boyfriend because those are synonymous to you.”

“Have I mentioned this kid?”

“Um… kid? Jensen I understand sometimes do-gooder types like yourself feel the need to break free at times but I don’t think pedophilia is a good way to let off some steam.”

“No, not kid, like illegal, kid like this 18 year old hooker.”

“Oh, a young professional, well, I can see why the removal of the emotional element by virtue of the financial aspect of the transaction could help you to keep those boundaries between getting laid and having a boyfriend.”

Jensen nodded. That’s not at all what he meant but what he meant, well, he couldn’t say it out loud. The truth was Jensen was fucked. He could go, work someplace else, do something else, be a therapist, be a case manager in a small well funded area, work with kids, but what he wanted was something else and it was something he could absolutely not have. Not at all, not even a little. This was not something he could do. He would not fuck a kid; he would not have these conversations with Misha anymore.

He took a long pull from the bong that seemed to live on the coffee table and let his brain be wrapped in a hazy cloud for the rest of his weekend.

When he went in on Wednesday it was with a brand new resolve. He would be positive. He would be involved. He would not try to help the ones who didn’t want it and that included Jared.

He was done with that. He would not burn himself out but he would give of himself. He had more self affirmations than any good 12 step program needed and he would use them until he was back on track.

Danneel was off on Wednesday and Thursday and Jensen was able to keep his resolve and his positive attitude. There were a few dozen intakes. Several hundred meals were served there was almost no drama and a few minor moments when the whole ‘seeing the positive’ thing worked. On Friday Jared was at his regular corner as Jensen drove around the neighborhood. Jared leaned into Jensen's car. Jensen didn’t make eye contact. Didn’t react to Jared's warm breath by his ear, or his mouth so close. He turned away and riffled through the box, transferring the rainbow colored condoms and small packets of lube to Jared's hand, careful not to make skin to skin contact. He drove off as soon as Jared stepped away from the car.

And so it went, for a couple of weeks, he wasn’t thinking about Jared. Jared wasn’t thinking about him, and Jensen was able to focus on the people who actually wanted his assistance. Who were actually willing to admit that they needed some help.

It was going fine until the weather took a turn for the worse. Right before Thanksgiving the nights were almost below freezing. Jensen tried to get the image of Jared, in jeans and a sweatshirt, no jacket, no hat, out of his head, but he recognized that he was completely fucked when his fantasies about Jared, the ones he pushed into the back of his brain and didn’t even admit to himself changed from being about taking his clothes off to putting him in something warm.

The next day when he was handing out more condoms he also pushed a thick black parka at Jared. “So you don’t die of hypothermia.”

“It hasn’t even hit freezing temperatures yet.”

“Take the fucking jacket.”

“Only if you’ll talk to me again.”

“What?”

“You… I know you help people but, I don’t know what I said that made you hate me.” and Jensen then remembered something else he’d pushed to the back of his head. Jared was just a kid. Just an 18 year old boy who thought Jensen had stopped liking him. If this were college he’d be a freshman, mooning over some upperclassman and living in the dorms and… Jensen shook his head. This was not college, and Jared was not mooning.

“I’ll talk to you; if you want you can come to the center. I can see you for an hour a week. We can link you to some services.” Jensen used his most professional voice, the one he’d learned years ago, and had mostly stopped using about a week after starting at the center.

Jared shook his head. “Nevermind. Thanks for the coat.” He wrapped his long fingers around the jacket, squishing the thick down together so he could carry it in one hand and walked away, shoulders slumped.

Jensen watched him go. Fuck.

~*~*~*~

The holidays came with lots of donations, but still never enough, and lots of drama both with staff and clients. It was their busiest time of the year, and the easiest time to get volunteers. It was, ironically, also when they lost the most paid employees. Apparently visiting home with siblings who made a living wage with their college degrees was demoralizing and made people rethink their career choices.

In all, they got through without significantly more damage than they’d expected although Grant had worked for them for two years, been an awesome group facilitator and integral to the smooth day to day running of the men’s shelter… and now he was gone, off to work at a private substance abuse clinic. Jensen was shocked… and jealous, but now it was early January, they were looking to hire someone who could take Grant’s position and things had calmed down with clients for the most part. Many had gone home, the holidays magnifying the crises to undue proportions and the reality of everyday life on their own more daunting than dealing with whatever family drama had erupted sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Things were heading back to an even keel. Jensen was filling out census reports in the dining room between lunch and dinner service when Jared walked in with a kid, a real kid, couldn’t be more than fourteen at his side. The kid looked like he might bolt but Jared seemed to have a firm grasp on his elbow. He stared at Jensen who raised an eyebrow. “New friend?”

“Thought he’d take up residence on my corner.”

“That’s probably not his first mistake.”

“Can’t you… he’s fourteen.”

Jensen nodded and shifted eye contact to the kid. “What’s your name?”

“Jack Meoff” and the kid started laughing, his blond hair falling over his face a little, his haircut recent, his clothes still in one piece. He was a runaway. “Well, Jack, why don’t we go back to my office and talk.”

“No fucking way. You pervy creep. If I was gonna give it away I wouldn’t need a corner.”

Jensen looked up at Jared and they shared an almost amused smile. “Would you feel more comfortable if Jared came back with us?”

“What’s the difference? He goes here. He has to say what you want.”

Jensen's temper flared but for entirely different reasons than one might expect when a fourteen year old rent boy kept calling him a pedophile and corrupted sexual degenerate. “Jared is in no way a client of the Sunshine Center, I can assure you.” Jared tilted his head in question and Jensen shook him off, letting Jared frog march the kid back to his office.

“Holy shit. You have this many condoms in your office and claim not to be a perv? Liar!”

Jensen nodded. “Excuse me for a second”. He slid out of the small office for a moment, told Danneel to call CPS ASAP, someone was probably missing this kid. Those sneakers were expensive and the Jeans were higher end than Jensen could afford. Street kids don’t buy jeans for a hundred and fifty bucks a pop.

He tried to get some information out of the kid, name, something, but mostly he was killing time until the authorities came, which they did. The kid put up a fight. His name was Peter; he was from the suburbs about ten miles out of the city. He’d failed his entire semester and his parents were frantic. No charges were pressed, but the police did have to cuff him for his own safety to return him to his family.

Jared and Jensen sat, awkwardly, surrounded by boxes and boxes of prophylactics and piles of pamphlets and tear sheets about the dangers of unprotected sex. “So, that kid owes you one.”

Jared gave a half laugh. “Somehow I doubt he sees it that way.”

“Yeah, not yet, give it time.”

“He didn’t fit, ya know? If I thought he was just another kid, tired of giving it away, someone who’d rather at least get paid if he’s gonna… well, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Jensen sat and considered his next statement carefully. He wanted, so much, to tell Jared that he could help, that there was hope, even for kids who did fit, even for Jared but if all he ever did was lecture… Jared would stop talking to him, and once the lines of communication are cut, it’s really hard to reestablish them. “It wouldn’t be wrong for you to be a client here; you know, for some services, whichever ones you’re interested in.”

“I don’t need any services. Okay, maybe a couple of scrambled eggs occasionally, but really, I’m good.”

“I was just saying, that I didn’t yell at the kid because he said you were a client. That’s…”

“Dude, the kid was calling you a pedophile and then pretty much insinuating that you had some kind of stable of street whores at your beck and call. Yelling made sense.”

Jensen nodded. But that still wasn’t the reason. If Jared were a client here, Jensen's life would be simple. He could put him in that box, the people he cared about, enough to help them, but not enough to get personally involved in their life. But Jared wasn’t a client, and Jensen wanted to be more involved with Jared and that right there, that was the motherfucking problem. He sighed and Jared stood up.

“Well, I gotta… so I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.”

“Jensen.”

“Yeah?”

“The kid, he’d… he was a virgin. That’s no way to get started with this shit, I mean, this had to be the right thing…right?”

Jensen nodded seriously and wondered how Jared could even doubt that. “Yeah, this was the right thing.”

Jensen saw Jared ducking into a car while he was taking his outreach route home that night.

The next evening Jared wasn’t encumbered by a customer and he needed very little persuasion to climb into Jensen's car. By now he knew how to arrange everything Jensen usually kept on the front seat, (boxes, folders, and pamphlets) carefully on the backseat to make room for his legs, which still ended up kind of folded by the time he was fully inside.

They talked and seemed to be getting along. Jensen thought it was probably because although he hadn’t given up on the idea, he had stopped constantly bringing up the possibility of Jared getting some sort of assistance, taking a step away from this life. As a result Jared opened up to him a little more.

“Yeah, I’ve always been a faggot.”

“You know it’s not a curse or a disease though, right?”

“Yeah, well, I mean, I know, God probably doesn’t hate me any more than he hates most people but then again, he did seem to have a soft spot for hookers.”

Jensen chuckled.

“It’s a problem when you’re in the system though, they consider it an issue, like being violent, or a fire starter, makes you hard to place so I ended up in some sketchy places before I settled for the last six months in a group home.”

“Christ I’m…”

“Don’t be sorry, I got through it, and hell, one of the guys at the group home, he’s the one who taught me just how much money could be made doing something that was a hell of a lot easier than working the drive through.”

“Hmmm, remind me to find that guy and thank him for you.”

“He learned it from someone who learned it from someone… it’s called the world’s oldest profession, so seriously, you want to go beat up the first hominids who traded beef jerky and decorative rocks for sex, ‘cause I gotta tell you, I don’t think the result would be any different. We’d still both be sitting here, you with a gross of condoms and me with fifty bucks in my pocket and a nasty aftertaste in the back of my throat.”

Jensen had no response to that so he sat in silence for a little bit. “Can I ask a question without you bolting?”

“Maybe.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“In the villages.”

Jensen nodded. The villages was an old complex of row homes that had been falling down for years. They’d been condemned and the city made promises to tear them down, put up affordable housing or a park, but for now it was full of squatters, Jared apparently one of them.

“You know if you sleep in the shelter we provide showers.”

“How am I gonna do my job if i have to be in line by four for a five thirty check in, and I lose my spot for a month if I leave in the middle of the night. I can usually find someplace to shower, get some guy to put up for a Palm Tree room, twice a month, around paydays.”

The Palm Tree motel was a flophouse, disgusting rooms that were rented by the night or the month. Jensen wanted to say so but this was the most Jared had ever shared with him and he didn’t want it to stop so he said nothing., Jared seemed to have run out of steam.

A few moments later Jared got out of the car, sliding his jacket down his back leaning against the wall, putting himself on display for his next customer.

Jensen stared because he liked talking to Jared. The kid was smart and funny, he was honest and good and Jensen was fucked because he didn’t just kinda like him. He wanted. Jared spoke and Jensen wanted, Jared walked and Jensen wanted, Jared shared his tragic life story and Jensen knew that he was a sick fuck because even then, he wanted.

~*~*~*~

Valentine ’s Day was not a big holiday at the center. A few foil cupids taped to the wall, a crepe paper heart dangling from the ceiling and groups on healthy relationships and good boundaries pretty much summed up the whole thing. Jensen barely even remembered it was Valentines Day until he saw Jared, who was wearing a red t-shirt easily two sizes too small. No embellishments just red.

He climbed into Jensen's car, holding his hands in front of the heater. “It’s fucking cold out there.”

“Wear a jacket.”

Jared tilted his head; they’d had this conversation more than twice before. “Doesn’t work like that.”

“Right, it’s important that you be on display, I forgot.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

They sat in silence again. Jensen had become used to it. Jared needed the heat of the car. Jensen liked to think he also needed to know someone gave a shit about him as something other than a way to get off. He was considering the possibility of both when he felt Jared lean in and then there was a warm press of lips against his. A soft wet tongue pressing for entrance and Jensen wanted to pull back, to get out of the car, to run, but instead he moaned which allowed Jared just that much further into his mouth, and his head and then they were kissing. Jensen knew he should stop, knew he had to figure out what this was but Jensen, the Jensen that was an outreach worker, that got a master’s degree and took entire courses on professional ethics, that Jensen had left the fucking building and the only one left was the one with his hands fisted in Jared's hair and his eyes closed to any of his clients who might wander by and see him making out with a street kid.

Jared's hand moved lower until it grazed Jensen's cock, which is when reality hit, hard. He pulled back. “Jared.” Jared's eyes were dark, his breathing rapid, so was Jensen’s. “Jared, we can’t. I mean… I can’t.”

“But… I thought you liked…”

“I do, I do like you, that’s why I can’t just… I can’t…”

Jared looked hurt. “Can’t what? You’re not protecting my virtue. I promise I got rid of that when I was fourteen.”

Jensen banged his head against the steering wheel. Oh god

“Jensen, I thought you… wanted me.”

“Christ, Jared, I do, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“This is wrong? Are you sure this is wrong?”

“It has to be wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels way too good, and I’m supposed to HELP you for chrissake, not just take advantage of you.”

“Oh please, you never would have made the first move, you’re not taking advantage, trust me. I want you.”

“Jared I need, Christ, I’m sorry, but I need to go. I’ll be back tomorrow, can we talk then, just talk?”

Jared nodded and got out of the car and Jensen replayed the whole thing a thousand times before he fell into a fitful sleep somewhere after two in the morning.

~*~*~*~

Jared was nowhere to be found the next day, and Jensen looked. He ran his usual route, and then ran it backwards, he circled further out, and down streets that didn’t really cater to Jared's purposes and after three days of still not having seen him anywhere he did something he hadn’t done since his first week at the center when he’d gotten his very first lecture on not chasing after clients and how those who wanted help would reach out.

He went to the villages.

It was dark inside, even at noon. Slightly warmer than the frigid February air. Some of the interior walls were crumbling, the space was damp in places, covered with cracked plaster and concrete and old shipping pallets that seemed to be doubling for beds. He moved through, using his cell phone as a flashlight and trying not to make too much noise. He found Jared curled up on a pile of old blankets, covered by his black coat in the third house he tried. “Jared.”

Jared looked up, gave Jensen the finger and pulled the coat over his head. “Fuck off.”

“Jared, c’mon man, I just want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, talk, that’s all you want to do.”

“Jared, can we… look, can we just not do this here?”

Jared sat up, keeping the coat pulled around him. “What, my place isn’t good enough for you? You wanna take me back to your place?”

He heard a couple of suggestive hoots and whistles from another room and realized he was gonna have to write an incident report about this fast before it became part of the neighborhood rumor mill and his job became someone else’s. “Jared. Please.”

Jared stood up. “You’re bringing me back here when we’re done talking. ”

“Yeah, fine, c’mon.”

They walked in silence for a while, the cold buffeting them both. “What do you want?”

“Jared, if I knew, this wouldn’t be so dangerous.”

“How is it dangerous? I’m not a client; you can’t lose your job.”

“Maybe not, but then again, you’ve been hurt.”

Jared tried to interrupt him and Jensen shook his head. “Let me finish. You’ve been hurt, whether you realize it or not, and I feel like I’m taking advantage of that.”

“Fine, so stay away from me.”

“Okay, but to do that, one of us has to change professions. I nominate you.”

Jared laughed. “So was that the plan, you seduce me and then finally get what you want, me off the streets.”

“Wasn’t the plan but I’d take it. Also, you kissed me. I haven’t been seducing you, at least not on purpose.”

“I’m fine where I am and I don’t think you’re giving yourself credit for how hot your disapproving glare can be.”

“Okay, so…”

“You can’t leave the center. Everyone knows that you and that Danielle chick are the only two people who can get shit done there. The rest of them are useless.”

“Her name’s Danneel and I’ll tell the rest of them you said so.”

“You know what I mean.”

“They’re young. Give them time and they’ll get old and tired just like Danni and I are. They’ll stop hassling you and being so enthusiastic with their outreach.”

“You act like you don’t give a fuck, but it’s so obvious you do.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So you’re not leaving, and I’m not leaving, where does that leave us?”

They had stopped walking now and were standing in front of Jensen's car. “Maybe it leaves us where we were three days ago.”

“Before or after I kissed you?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

“Really?” Jensen felt he had good reason not to be sure.

“No, really I want a whole lot more than that but I have a feeling your conscience would explode if I told you what I really wanted.”

“So okay, rules and boundaries.”

“Isn’t that a group at like five thirty on Saturdays?”

Jensen laughed, “yeah, but these are for us. It’s not going to go any further for right now, kissing, yeah, but nothing you’d actually charge money for, and you don’t disappear.”

“Fine, but you know we can’t keep doing this in your car. Everyone knows your car, so, that would blow the whole DL factor.”

Jensen shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ll meet in the parking lot of the federal financial building.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty safe; we can go wherever from there.”

Jensen nodded and watched as Jared's tongue traced his lower lip and he groaned. “I haven’t felt like this since high school.”

Jared shrugged. “I’ve never felt like this.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, at eight thirty, after your shift ends.”

“You know my schedule?”

“And I’m blowing off a regular for you. You’d better be worth it.”

Jensen really really hoped he was.

~*~*~*~

It was awkward, like, first date awkward, which was stupid because they’d known each other for months, they’d already made out once, and they both knew what was and wasn’t on the menu, but still, Jared looked like he could be anybody as he walked past the Pizza Piazza and then across the lot of the Federal Financial before he climbed into the already cleared front seat of Jensen's nine year old car.

Jensen started driving and realized he hadn’t really planned anything beyond this, for two good reasons. The first, he hadn’t been 100% sure Jared would show up and the second was that each time he thought about it he wanted it more, and wanted more so he found himself driving down the main drag of the city and looking over at Jared. “Did you want to go get some food, eat?”

“This isn’t a date. You don’t have to feed me.”

“So where do you want to go?”

Jared shrugged. “There’s a park behind the Kennedy High football field.”

Jensen nodded and wondered if Jared had attended Kennedy High. They parked, and things were no less awkward. Jensen turned towards Jared to make eye contact. “Look I…” was as far as he got before Jared was kissing him again, pushing his jacket off his shoulders.

It was a small car and they were sizable men, both of them, but somehow they managed to get Jensen's seat almost entirely back and their jackets off. Jared's hands were running along Jensen's body until Jensen pulled them back towards his shoulders and the entire dance was so wrong, Jensen acting like the virginal teenager, trying to protect an innocence Jared had lost years ago and still it felt good, and almost right, because he knew going further would be wrong, wronger than wrong and no matter how much it might feel like he wanted it now. He’d hate himself five seconds later. The glory of not being a teenager, Jensen contemplated during a moment of separation from Jared's lips, was that you could actually keep some kind of balance between what you wanted and what was right.

~*~*~*~

It was April, Jensen hadn’t mentioned Jared to anyone and their relationship had actually flourished. Jared did let Jensen take him to a restaurant occasionally. They talked sometimes, instead of just making out, but they were, in the privacy of Jensen's car, always touching. The forbidden factor probably added to the heat but the truth was they liked each other. They joked, they laughed, Jensen was constantly surprised by Jared who had a quick wit and a sharp intelligence and Jared was surprised by Jensen, by the fact that he really did care what happened to the people at the center, to his friends, to Jared. It was all going really well so it was no surprise to Jared or Jensen when a problem occurred. They were both surprised later for different reasons.

They’d still never gotten their hands down each other’s pants, although Jensen had offered to do Jared's laundry a couple of times feeling responsible for the sudden need for his jeans to see the inside of a washing machine. And even so, it still felt real, and intimate and so Jensen was surprised that Jared seemed nervous and like his ears might be turning an alarming shade of red. “What’s up?”

“I’m…I think… I’ve got… I’m sick.”

“What?” It was short and sharp but Jared clearly wasn’t talking about a cold here.

“Look, it’s probably nothing, okay. Maybe I’m just, I don’t know, allergic to something.”

“You have a rash.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad, see.” Jared held up his hand showing the reddened rough skin on his palm. I just… you know what, never mind. Forget it.”

Jensen was bloody well not going to forget it. The rash could be signs of several different things. “What else.”

“I don’t want to...”

“Not up for discussion, what else?”

“I keep getting headaches, like bad ones, and I’ve dropped a little weight.”

“And you’ve had sores.” Jensen didn’t know what they were dealing with but unless it was diabetes, it would come with sores.

“Just like, cold sores, one or two but that was months ago.”

Jensen wanted to vomit, and cry, and scream, but instead he just nodded. “You have to go to the clinic to get bloodwork done tomorrow. We can’t do anything 'til we know what it is.”

“But you know what it is.”

“I swear to Christ I know what it sounds like but it could be one of twenty different things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look, we’ll just…”

“No, I mean, you told me, and I was too worried about it cutting into my profits to…”

Jensen had been quiet, and calm and professional but now Jared was looking at him and pleading for forgiveness for having unprotected sex with the creepy pedophiles who hired him. He lost his shit.

He yelled, he lectured, his voice echoed through the car, bouncing against the glass and coming back, it was ugly as was every nasty and accurate thing he said to Jared and he was, somewhere, in the rational part of his brain, surprised that Jared didn’t get out, leave, or at the very least respond, but he didn’t. He just kept still while Jensen unloaded all the self loathing he’d been hiding from himself, all the fears and concerns he’d had about this relationship, on Jared's head. When he’d run out of steam he was also out of breath. He took a long pull from his Big Gulp and exhaled slowly. “We’ll go to the clinic tomorrow.”

Jared nodded, suddenly a cowed three year old and Jensen had a feeling he’d just done as much damage as any damn disease might.

“I’ll meet you there at seven am.”

Jensen nodded and drove home, and if he let a couple of tears escape it was just a result of so much emotional release, that’s all, nothing else.

~*~*~*~

Jensen didn’t sleep that night and he was pacing in front of the clinic at six thirty. They had walk in hours, but if you didn’t come in before seven and get an appointment, the odds were you’d spend the day waiting. Jared probably hadn’t slept either, he met Jensen at a quarter to seven, he was assigned a nine AM appointment and given some forms to fill out. He took the clipboard over to the corner and Jensen sat next to him. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“No, just… um… are there gonna be needles?” Jared looked pale.

“Probably, blood work, so, yeah.”

“Okay, um, see, this is embarrassing…”

“This is embarrassing? The whole, hooker slash STD thing is no big deal but…”

“I’m afraid of needles okay? Blood should be Inside the body, that’s where it belongs, not, you know, outside of it, especially when they’re like, drilling for oil to get it. I mean, she’s just gonna take one of those long thick needles and jam it in my arm and…”

Jared looked green. Jensen grabbed the clipboard and ushered him out of the building into the fresh air. “Breathe.”

“Can’t. Can’t do this. Gonna have to…”

He’d have bolted if Jensen hadn’t had a strong grip on his shirt. “Jensen…”

“Yeah, I get it but c’mon, you do scarier stuff than this on a regular basis. You’re a goddammn badass; you can handle a little blood work.”

“I don’t, I know you think what I do is like scary or something but it’s so very much not. Like at all.”

“You get in cars with strangers with no idea what they might do.”

“They usually just unzip their fly and pay me for a blow job. It’s really a lot more mundane than television and movies make it out to be.”

Jared was actually calming down so Jensen kept the conversation going, although he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear most of it.”

“Really, I mean, maybe some places there are pimps or whatever but mostly, it’s just a straight up business transaction. They guys know what they want, they generally know what it costs and I can make about a two hundred dollars on a weekend night, less on a week night.

“Lucrative.”

“Pays better than flipping burgers.”

“Did you know there are other jobs than those in the fast food industry?”

“There aren’t even those. You need a computer to apply at any fast food place these days.”

“The center has computers, so does the library.”

“I have a job.”

Jensen opened his mouth to say something but Jared's name was called. “Come back with me?”

Jensen nodded. “If they’ll let me.”

Jared looked tense and nervous and the nurse allowed Jensen to sit with him through the first part, while she gathered vitals and found out what the problem was. The doctor came in twenty minutes after the nurse had left, looked at Jared's hand and then dismissed Jensen so he could do a more thorough physical. Jensen stood in the hallway, trying not to be in anyone’s way. The doctor left and half an hour later the nurse went in. He heard Jared's voice, moving at a million miles an hour, higher pitched than usual. The door opened and the nurse waved to Jensen.

Jensen walked in and took Jared's hand, the one that didn’t have a rubber tourniquet on it. “Okay, this is no big deal. Just look at me.”

Jared ran his free hand through his hair and shook his head. This is a huge deal, what if they hit an artery, what if they find something really wrong with me, what if’ it’s, you know, gonna kill me?”

Jensen squeezed his hand and ran a hand through his hair, knowing the nurse was watching, possibly even judging. Jensen didn’t care, they needed the blood drawn and for that Jared had to calm the fuck down.

Finally Jared just stared at Jensen and listed to a long boring story about this time Jensen and his friends had gone to the river one summer weekend and how he’d broken his arm and as he detailed the pain of his friends trying to help him hike back to the car the nurse pulled the blood she needed.

“You can check out at the front desk.”

They nodded and Jared kept staring at the cotton ball taped to his arm.

At the front desk another nurse pulled Jared's file. “The doctor needs to see you in five days to go over you lab results. In the meantime, here’s a three day dose pack of antibiotics. Make sure you take them for all three days.

“How can he treat it if he hasn’t even run the blood work?” Jensen was confused.

“We’ve seen over three hundred cases of syphilis in the last five months. He’s pretty sure that’s the primary diagnosis at this point. “

“Syphilis?” Jensen repeated dumbly.

Jared pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go before you talk them into taking more blood.”

Jensen nodded and drove Jared back to the center. Jared took off towards his usual alley and Jensen called after him. “Remember to take those pills.”

Jared nodded.

Jensen never went back to the bank parking lot, or the high school field. He focused on his work and sent out almost forty resumes to any job for which he might be remotely qualified. He told Danneel and helped her interview for his replacement.

He saw Jared occasionally on the street but he never allowed him in he car again, and Jared never asked. He still pushed condoms at him because… because he didn’t want Jared to die.

He went on interviews, wearing his only suit and borrowing a tie from Misha. He got a job and gave Danneel a week’s notice which was plenty of time to train the new guy, he was smart and funny, and Danneel had a small crush on him. Jensen honestly hoped it turned into more. Danneel deserved a life too.

On his last day he tried to find Jared but he was nowhere to be found. Jensen once again ventured into the villages and found Jared there, sleeping on his coat.

“What do you want?”

Jensen shook his head. “A lot of things but mostly, I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Yeah, you’re leaving. I heard.”

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t.”

“Tough, you’re gonna get one anyway. I closed my eyes to all the negatives, all the reasons you were a bad idea because I just wanted you so fucking much. Still do, actually. Reality is that I can’t have you, not this you. And if I couldn’t save the one thing I really wanted to rescue, the rest of it seemed pointless.”

“Bullshit. You were burnt out before I even met you; don’t lay that shit at my door.”

“You don’t even have a door.”

“Nice deflection.”

Jensen tilted his head. “Someday you’re gonna tell me where you’re epic vocabulary comes from.”

“There is no someday Jensen. There’s today, and today, you’re leaving for a cushier job.”

“I’m gonna be a case worker for a private foster care agency.”

“Good. Just do them a favor and leave before you stop caring.”

“Low blow.”

“True though.”

“So, I’m leaving, but I wanted to give you this.” Jensen held it out to Jared

Jared laughed. It was Jensen's new business card and a packet for GED enrollment. “Man, you just don’t stop.”

Jensen shrugged. “If you ever want to stop this shit, you can contact me there.”

Jared nodded and shoved the card in his pocket. “Good bye Jensen.”

Jensen reached out a hand and Jared took it, letting Jensen pull him up. The shared one last embrace, both of them burying their faces in the other’s neck, not kissing, just losing themselves to the feeling of having the other close and then Jared broke the contact and Jensen walked out, blinking at the bright sunlight outside, he put on his sunglasses, got in his car, and drove away.

~*~*~*~

Jensen had been working for the foster care agency for over a year. He spent a lot of time driving from one foster home to another but he got to spend quality time with the kids, advocate for them when it came to the state and county social workers and he even got along well with the other case managers. He was sitting in the office they all shared, pulling kid’s case files and typing up progress notes when he did a double take. The office was located in an office park; they shared their particular building with an insurance agency, a psychologist and a temporary staffing service. So seeing Jared getting out of a late model miniature SUV, wearing dress pants and a tie was more than surprising, it was just… fucking weird is what that was.

Jensen literally blinked. It obviously wasn’t Jared, it was just a guy who… ran his hand through is hair in that same nervous way that Jared did, and… Jensen's brain wasn’t processing much anymore. He heard someone ask him a question and by the time he turned to even try to respond he was out the door and standing in front of what may or may not, but absolutely had to be, but no way could it be, Jared.

“Hi.”

Jensen stared at him. “Hello.”

“I um…”

“Did you get a job through the temp agency?”

“What? Um, No, I… Danneel hooked me up with a training program. I’m a copier repair guy.” Jared blushed staring at his feet, more embarrassed by this than by his previous gig as a sex worker.

Jensen knew his mouth was moving but he didn’t seem to be able to get all his motor functions on line at the same time, pushing breath and moving vocal cords in the right direction was beyond him. He snapped his mouth shut and just stared, he could feel his eyes crinkle and knew he was smiling, like really hard, sort of freakishly, but he didn’t care.

Jared put a hand over Jensen's chest. “It’s good to see you man.”

“If I thought too hard about it, I had to assume you were dead.” Jensen said it in a whisper.

“Yeah, that makes sense, but… I’m not dead.”

“And you’re here to fix someone’s copier?”

Jared stared at him like he’s spoken another language and then it seemed to click. He laughed, more of a chuckle. “No, man, I’ve tried before, come here to see you, picked up the phone to call but… I was more afraid of your response than I am of needles. Didn’t know if I could take you telling me I still wasn’t good enough.”

“That wasn’t the problem Jared, that was never the problem.”

“I know.”

“So what changed today?”

“Nothing. I still wasn’t sure I was going to contact you; I just liked seeing your car, knowing you were still around, somewhere. So I guess what changed today is that you saw me.”

“I saw you.”

“And you came out here.”

“Would have gone a lot further if I’d had to.”

“So um…” Jared rolled back on his heels. “Now what?”

Jensen thought about it for a second, Jared, the copy repair guy, with a car, and probably even a place to live. Jared who probably didn’t sell his body for money anymore. Jared, still funny and smart and so fucking beautiful.

Jensen considered carefully and then threw himself at Jared, pinning him to his stupid little miniature SUV and kissing him the way he’d been missing for the last eighteen months.

Jared was kissing him back, his hands sliding down Jensen's body, cupping his ass as Jensen moaned a little, his eyes fluttering shut and then he pulled back.

“We’re um, in the parking lot of my office.”

“Yeah, what say we like, go make out someplace that doesn’t involve car door handles in uncomfortable places?”

Jensen smiled. “Gimme five.”

He came back out with his messenger bag full of paperwork and his keys. “So…”

Jared was already in his car, unlocking the door for Jensen. “My place is closer.”

Jensen got in and leaned over to kiss Jared one more time. “Drive fast.”

~Fin

epicallytired @ 2011-09-11T13:18:00

2011-09-11T17:18:36Z

For the record...

I was asleep.

Beta Needed, (story and grammar)

2011-08-29T21:14:55Z

So I have two stories I'm working on and I'm not sure where to take them. It's unlike me but then, I'm unlike me lately so...

I need a story beta, someone with time and interest and a phone.

I also need someone to then go over the whole fat mess and make it pass muster in a seventh grade essay contest... something I wasn't able to do in seventh grade, or graduate school.

so um, yeah, volunteers welcome.

epicallytired @ 2011-08-29T11:29:00

2011-08-29T15:30:02Z

I live in Richmond.

We got some wind and rain.

Anyone who makes it out to be more than that needs to actually pay attention to real weather.

Wind and rain. Didn't even wake my dogs.

Please STFU about OMG there's water outside.

Sincerely, a non hysterical member of fandom.

August 17th, On this day in History

2011-08-17T18:56:26Z

today is August 17th, my Mother's birthday.

She's been dead since October 1999, She'd have been 71 toay.
I only got to see her get to 59(she'd have had at least two face lifts by now too)

I barely even miss her anymore but when my dad is on a Caribbean cruise with his new wife and his 12 +/- Grandchildren and my Brother is gearing up for the Philly Folk Fest, and um... yeah, that's all the family I got... Well, today I guess I miss her because it seems like I'm the only one left to do so.

If you get a chance. Hug your mother today.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM