NC-17 | Broken Bone | Part 2
Previous
On Monday, Jensen stands on the front stoop and knocks a few times to no answer. He considers the fact that Jared can’t walk or take the long flight of stairs, but it’s really not Jensen’s fault that Jared hasn’t accounted for the fact that Jensen needs to get into the house.
He waits another minute before he smiles that he can leave and heads back down the walk. When he’s opening the driver’s side door, his phone rings. He doesn’t know the number, but he recognizes it’s a local area code. “Hello?”
“You’re not getting out of this that easy.”
And shit, that’s Jared. Jensen turns back towards the house and sees the guy in a second-floor window, waving and grinning. Jensen groans in lieu of speaking.
“Head around back and up the deck. I’ll let you in there.”
The call’s dropped and Jared’s gone from the window. Jensen figures he doesn’t have much of a choice after traveling nearly an hour just to show up. It’s a long walk across the grounds, and Jensen has to admit the place is landscaped nicely, grass a bright green and flowers an even brighter rainbow of colors. Out back, there’s a gravel walking path that splits to the house and further back to a basketball court, large stone patio, and a gazebo just off the side. Jensen nearly rolls his eyes with the extravagance of it. But it makes sense, of course.
He takes the deck stairs two at a time, figuring the sooner he gets the session started, the sooner he can leave. It’s a good plan, and he’s feeling a bit optimistic about it, until Jared yanks the patio door to the side and smirks at him.
“So, you came back.”
Jensen nods a little and Jared grins a lot.
“They always come back.”
Jensen stops in the middle of the deck and takes a deep breath. “Can we lay a few ground rules here? Like, you don’t get up and walk around until you’re fit to?”
Jared leans forward and Jensen realizes he’s using the walker for support, keeping his foot off the ground and knee slightly bent. At least Jared listened to something from their last session. Jared nods and keeps on smirking. “I can try. What else you got?”
“Keep your hands to yourself and the dirty talk to your maid.”
“Well then how’m I to have any fun?”
Jensen sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s physical therapy, not an after party.”
“I bet you’d like some of our after parties,” Jared insists with a sideways look.
“Mr. Padalecki-”
Jared stands a little straighter, but Jensen can see the twist of his forearm flexors as he puts most of his weight forward; Jensen’s happy to at least see that effort. “Alright, I’ll try to follow your rules if you follow mine.”
Jensen shifts his weight and snorts. “Your rules?”
“Yeah, for starters, it’s Jared. And I’ll give you a key to come and go so long as you don’t share it, obviously. And anything that happens inside this house stays inside this house.”
Jensen laughs again, looking away as he considers that to be a pretty twisted rule. As if he’s opening himself up to more lewd comments and wayward touches so long as they’re indoors.
“You said it’s not impossible for me to recover and play in October.” For the short amount of time they’ve been around each other, this is a first: Jared looks serious, concerned. “I’m a free agent next year, and if I can’t play, if I’m not around the whole season and back to form, there’s no way they’ll pay to keep me or that I get a say in where I’m shipped off to.” He tips his head, eyes intent on Jensen, and he licks his lips with worry. “If you can get me back for the pre-season, and you keep quiet on how bad my knee is, then I’m fully committed to whatever you say.”
Getting the Bulls All-Star back on the court, 100 percent, in four months? Jensen has his reservations, sure, but there’s a fine dare stewing here between them. If there’s ever a thing Jensen hates backing away from it’s a challenge. “Whatever I say?”
Jared bites his bottom lip then pushes it out with a long breath. “Can you do it?”
Jensen shrugs. “The question is can you?”
He nods firmly and slowly says, “I’m fully committed.”
Nodding with Jared, Jensen steps up to him. “Then yeah, I can do it. But first?” Jensen puts his hands over Jared’s as they keep supporting him on the walker. “You gotta stop walking around on it, you idiot.”
Jared chuckles, but there’s a broken quality to it, like he’s nervous and relieved at the same time. “Alright, then what do you suggest?”
Jensen looks up at the house. “You got a hot tub in this palace, right?”
“That’s a very nice suggestion.” Even as Jensen glares at him, Jared goes on with a raised eyebrow. “You can just go with what you got on. Or nothing at all.”
“Jared.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and move out of the way,” Jensen says tightly, rattling the walker a little.
+++
The upside to sticking to this assignment is Jensen gets himself some fresh air as they spend an hour in the hot tub that’s tucked inside the teak gazebo next to the house. He starts showing up in khaki shorts, loses his socks and shoes, and rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders as he joins Jared in the tub and slowly maneuvers the knee in the heated water.
Jared listens to him when he talks about proper muscle movement and angles for his knee when he’s resting or even when he must move about the house.
The downside is Jensen finds himself running into girls on the way in or out each day, and he’s sure it’s more awkward for him than it is for them. Different colors and shapes, and Jared’s always grinning for or after them. Katie returns in another wicked outfit. She looks like a waitress in high class-joint that shows a lot of skin. She still grins and calls him “Jensen Ackles, Physical Therapist,” like it’s his formal name.
It’s not awful to witness Jared’s revolving door. But it is fairly uncomfortable, especially when Jared continues to drop innuendos at every turn.
Jensen’s only response, “You better not be fucking up your knee more.”
Jared smirks at him. “I’m fucking something. You wanna hear about it?”
+++
His coworkers are still all over him for gossip. He makes up the most ridiculous stories, like that Jared has a circus on the non-existent fourth floor of the house with his very own female lion tamer that works Jared over when the animals aren’t enough for her. It’s not too far from the truth, though, given Katie’s costumes.
Samantha overhears a few of his stories and shakes her head, fully embarrassing him with her judgmental looks. But she also laughs it off and constantly checks on how treatments are going.
He assures her they’re getting there and he’s committed. He says they both are.
For all the torture he accepts dealing with Jared, he’s certain he should be committed to a mental hospital. They both should.
+++
Another Monday and Jared winces to a quick twitch of his knee. He reaches for Jensen’s calf and first squeezes through the pain, then tries to massage it, slow and easy, as if Jensen wouldn’t figure out what he was doing. Jensen’s tempted to yank on the guy’s leg and put him in misery, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Tuesday, Jared flicks fingers at the surface of the water as Jensen stands before him and leans down to flex Jared’s knee out. Jared accidentally gets an incredible amount of water on Jensen’s shorts and sadly smiles. “Man, that’s a lot of water. Should probably lose your shorts.” Jensen only rolls his eyes and keeps working.
On Wednesday, Jensen massages Jared’s tensors, focusing on the thigh muscles that must be tightening up from so little use after so much pressure put on them while playing ball. Jared groans and murmurs more than is really appropriate, and Jensen miraculously ignores it. Or at least, he lets the moment pass.
By Thursday, nearly three weeks in, there’s some progress when Jared’s wincing is kept to a minimum and angles that used to make him whine can be made with only moderate grunts.
“You know,” Jared says through gritted teeth. “I’m not sure I’m getting my money’s worth.”
“How so?” Jensen says, distracted by the turn of Jared’s knee when he tests the mobility.
“You come around for an hour, but half of that is spent trying to get me from the house to the tub and back.”
Jensen steps to the side and lifts Jared’s leg up with a hand under his thigh and the other at his calf. He brings it up to the water level and slowly bends it down. “It’s not my fault you’re an invalid.”
Jared’s face twists with the new angle, and his voice wavers when he says, “I get why I need hot water, but can’t we do this inside?”
He pats at Jared’s thigh then squeezes lightly. “Ease up here.”
Following Jensen’s orders, Jared shifts in his seat and takes a sharp breath. “I mean, I got a huge bathroom, Jacuzzi tub. There’s plenty of room for us in there.”
Without a second of thought, Jensen drops Jared’s leg and sweeps the surface, soaking Jared. He’s breathing heavy and pissed off, far beyond tired of all the advances, and he’s ready to jump out of the tub and quit, no matter the consequences of telling Samantha the real reasons.
Jared blinks and spits water back into the tub then licks over his lips as he stares at Jensen with hardly any emotion on his face. “Well,” he says plainly.
Sticking his finger in Jared’s face, Jensen lets it out. “I’m so fucking tired of this. You said you were serious and on board. You agreed, no more talking or touching or any bull shit if I could help you.”
“I just meant we could do this inside.”
“What?” Jensen harps.
“In my tub, do this, just the way you do it out here. Then we wouldn’t waste time crawling in and out of the house.”
After an uncomfortable silence, Jensen chances, “So, you weren’t …”
“Hitting on you?” Jared supplies. “No, I wasn’t.” He runs one hand down his face to clear water and the other over his hair, pulling it away from his forehead before he shakes his head back. He sighs when he looks back at Jensen. “I’m getting a little tired of being rejected.”
Something pitiful washes over Jensen and he’s about ready to release a tiny Oh. He swallows it down in favor of the satisfaction for finally cutting into Jared. Even if it was badly timed, at least he finally said it.
Jared spreads his arms over the side of the hot tub and shrugs with another sigh. “So, we gonna finish up here or are you running off again?”
Jensen crouches down and pulls Jared’s leg back up. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Jared allows with a nod.
He keeps his eyes on his hands manipulating Jared’s knee to bend down. “For yelling at you. And the water.”
Jared lightly laughs and taps at the top of the tub. “I’m not used to it, but I’m sure I deserve it.”
Still focusing on the way Jared’s leg twists underwater, Jensen dares to ask, as level as possible, “You’ve got a different girl here every day, why do you keep saying shit to me?”
There’s no answer for so long, Jensen figures it’s it an untouchable subject. He’s fine with that; he’d rather not attempt to understand his patient. He’d like to go on for the next few months, get Jared back in shape, and walk away with the pride and reputation that he returned Chicago’s son to its waiting arms.
“Ask me inside.”
A quick glance up and Jared’s staring intently on his knee, and he’s even pushing back on Jensen’s hands to test the knee himself. “You gonna say more shit inside?” Jensen says.
“Does your vow of secrecy extend to my yard?”
Jared sounds … nervous, and Jensen’s shocked by it. And also terribly curious about this crack in Jared’s armor. “Forget it. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”
“Does it?” Jared pushes.
Jensen shakes his head and refocuses on the stretches. “Man, say whatever you want. So long as you’re not all over me, I don’t care.”
Jared’s sigh whistles through the tight circle of his lips. “It’s not easy being me,” he says with a flat chuckle.
Looking over the grounds, from the hot tub to the basketball court and the in-ground pool, not to mention the spread of the deck across the entirety of the three-story monster of a home, Jensen shakes his head and barely contains his laughter.
“Dude, I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jensen replies with an angry smile. He’d almost prefer the guy go back to building his own ego and legacy, bragging about his sexual conquests. Humble doesn’t fit Jared.
“I’m not exactly straight,” Jared argues. “Can’t be open about that and be where I’m at.”
Jensen stops moving and watches Jared dodge his look. “Really?” he asks, skeptical and slow.
“Yeah.”
“So all the women are just for show?”
“Well,” Jared smirks a little. “They get the job done.”
“Right,” Jensen chuckles, still bitter and skeptical.
“People see me with a new girl all the time, they’re more interested in the player than what I’m really looking for.”
He laughs and shakes his head, getting back to work. “So the big ape doth protest too much?”
Jared laughs, too, and flicks water at Jensen. It’s more in playful retaliation and nowhere near as bad as earlier in the week.
“All this time, you weren’t just being a dick, but actually hitting on me?” Jensen asks, joking a little.
“Have you seen you?” Jared laughs again. After a bit of quiet, Jared asks, “Are you gonna freak out now? Go run and tell everyone?”
“No,” he responds slowly. It feels a little uncomfortable really, as if Jared is accusing him - or expecting - a show of unprofessionalism here.
“Guy could get a lot of money for leaking that info.”
Jared’s voice is sharp, but Jensen’s look is sharper. “Are you looking for someone to? ‘Cause this is a pretty shitty way to be outted.”
“Like you’d really care.”
Trying unbelievably hard to not roll his eyes, Jensen shifts back to focus on the slide of Jared’s knee in his hands, because otherwise he just might swipe Jared with another fistful of water.
Jared sighs and eases up on the tension in his legs, allowing Jensen to work easily. It’s bad enough, Jensen figures, that Jared has to be vocally challenging, but to also let it bleed into his therapy is a nightmare. “You’re not gonna tell everyone?” he asks quietly.
Jensen lets out an awkward smile and shakes his head. “That’d be a little hypocritical of me.”
“Oh,” Jared breaths, shifting to sit straighter.
He stands and wipes his hands on the sides of his shorts. “You’re good.”
“Jensen, look,” Jared starts, but Jensen waves him off.
“It’s not a big deal.” Something warms Jensen and he feels comfortable enough to talk easy. He’s not sure why, but he figures Jared’s got enough going on to not worry about the orientation of his physical therapist or bother telling anyone about it. “I don’t talk about me with anyone, and I won’t be telling anyone about you. We’ll just chalk it up to a nice, little understanding, alright?”
“Really?”
The kicker is that Jared seems honestly hopeful right here, like he wants someone to know his secret and keep it to themselves. Like he’s been dying for someone to hear it and understand it all. Jensen gets it, and he’s happy to accept the subtle, low-key version of Jared that’s peeking through. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he says with another simple wave. “Just, stop being so fucking gross about it, alright?” he asks, playfully offended.
Jared’s eyes widen and he slowly puts his hand out to Jensen. “Deal.”
+++
By the time Jensen shows up for the regular Thursday drink night, his friends and coworkers have already commandeered a corner with three tables pulled together, and not a single chair for him.
Kristen and Jessica shoot him a look he can’t decipher as they huddle closer together and talk. A handful of others he doesn’t bother interacting with very often are zipping through video trivia. Chris, Danneel, and Justin are in a heated debate over the seriousness of various shoulder injuries. This scene isn’t all that unfamiliar.
Jensen heads to the bar for a beer and, as he waits for service, he drops onto a stool and drums his fingers on the counter. He had a full shift at the clinic, one patient right after another and enough new notations to make his hand cramp. He was so busy he’d been able to put any thoughts at bay about what happened at Jared’s house this morning. Yet, the moment he got into his car, done with his workday, everything slammed right into the front of his brain.
Jared - Chicago’s newest crowned prince, alpha male of the NBA, and Jensen’s newest client who seems to have himself the healthiest libido in the world - is gay, and has now confirmed that he’d rather be fucking his physical therapist than the long line of women coming through his home.
What a way to mess with a guy’s head.
Jensen sits a while, still waiting, and normally he wouldn’t mind given the number of filled tables in the place. Except his mind now stumbles down a terrifying road that begins to recount the time he’s spent with Jared. That first day in Jared’s bedroom with the sheets down low to show off the spread of Jared’s broad, tan chest and the dip of his hipbones. The times in the hot tub when Jared’s soaked from the shoulders down, water glistening on his skin under the bright sun, damp hair tucked behind his ears. Any slip of the tongue - both intended and not - that make Jared smirk and grin with dimples popping in his cheeks.
He pushes his elbow onto the bar and buries his face in one hand, trying to ignore the images that make his stomach twist and his nerves wake up. He never thought Jared was a bad-looking guy by any means and, as a physical therapist, he’s able to truly appreciate the physical form of an athlete. But dealing with Jared, his extreme perversion and ,wayward hands had been enough to turn Jensen off.
Now … Jensen recalls the moment Jared shared his secret and how Jensen vowed to not tell a soul. Jared put his hand out, Jensen nodded, and they shook on it. And there is no way in hell Jensen felt anything from the simple press of Jared’s palm to his or the honest way Jared was smiling at him.
Fuck.
“Heyo!” Danneel says loudly as she pushes into Jensen’s side.
He flinches away in surprise then settles on the stool again, but not without a scowl in her direction.
She smirks and elbows him. “How’s the stud doin’?”
“What? He’s not my stud,” Jensen insists.
“He who?” she asks, eyeing him oddly.
“No one.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“What’re you talking about?” he asks as he turns and waves at the bartender. Anything to distract him from Jared, or the potential to discuss such things.
Her eyebrows go high as she sighs, “Ohh-kay,” and puts her empty bottle to the bar top. “So, you’re crazy as ever, huh?”
He finally gets the bartender’s attention, points at Danneel’s bottle, and signals for two more. They both follow the track of the bartender at the cooler and heading towards them, and Jensen asks as level as possible, “What stud’re you asking about?”
“You,” she laughs, elbowing him again. “Who’d you think I meant?”
“No one. I was just thinking about work.” There’s a flash of Jared damp in the hot tub, lips turned painfully with Jensen’s stretches, but the sight is a bit tantalizing … “At the clinic,” Jensen specifies as she raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Patients from this evening.” He busies himself by paying for their beers then taking a healthy sip of his.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“Did something happen at work?” she asks slowly.
“Like what?” he asks airily.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs and drinks from her bottle then eyes him again. “Things going okay with Padalecki?”
“Of course.” He laughs, then ignores how it sounds forced. To distract himself, he takes an even longer drink. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Danneel turns against the bar, watching him intently. “Because you once said he was a dick and you dreaded having to go over there every day.”
Jensen stays quiet, well aware it’s true. He hates that she’s remembered and is holding him to it now.
“And today’s the first day you’re not looking like you want to hang yourself or quit. Or both.”
“So because I’m in a good mood, something must be wrong?”
She laughs and punches his shoulder. “This is you in a good mood?”
“God,” he groans and nudges her away. “Leave me alone.”
“That sounds more like you,” she replies.
Thankfully, she does move away and return to the table. Bad news is she and Chris keep talking and eying him as he finishes his beer. He’s determined to relax before he joins them.
But given the odd smirks Chris aims at him and the way Danneel gives him sideways glances, he bails before they have a chance to ask him what the hell’s wrong with him. He has no clue what to tell himself.
+++
Jensen’s grateful that Jared’s finally ready for full muscle movement. This means no more time in swim trunks or the hot tub, and means he’s carrying his tri-fold table into Jared’s house.
Jared meets him at the bottom of the stairs, albeit slowly, and smirks as Katie shuffles out the door. She’s plain clothed but caring a pretty full duffle, waving at them with a broad smile and kick to her step. He doesn’t want to guess what sort of get-up she’s got in the bag.
After a moment of watching Katie tromp down to her car, Jensen stares at Jared, but Jared just smiles in return.
“And what is this?” Jared asks.
No matter how comfortable Jared looks - in training shorts and a snug v-neck tee with freshly showered, barely drying hair making the collar damp - Jensen sticks to the resolution he set for himself this past weekend.
Jared is his client, and that’s it. Jensen’s here to do a job, and when he’s done in two months, Jared will be back on the court and Jensen will be back at the clinic full-time. That’s it.
“Are we up to massages now?” Jared asks. He smirks as he tilts his hips against the banister for support, but damn, it’s a little tempting as well.
Jensen sets his table to the floor and takes a deep, calming breath. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“We’re done with the hot tub and-”
“That sounds like bad news, Jensen,” Jared says with a wink.
“You’re ready for some longer sessions,” Jensen finishes.
Jared hops a little when he leans further against the banister. “And what’s the bad news?”
“I have to put up with you for longer sessions,” he replies. It sounds a little like a joke, but Jensen feels a sliver torment for having to actually spend more time here.
“Then let’s go!” Jared starts limping towards the hallway that leads to his gym, and Jensen groans.
“You know, now would be a good time for you to actually use that stupid cane.”
“Yeah, I forgot it upstairs.” Jared keeps pushing against the wall with one of his huge hands as he slowly ambles to the last room down the hall. “Figured it out when I was halfway down the stairs, and I doubt you’d be happy with me taking the steps twice.”
“That’s the first good thought you’ve had since I met you.” Jensen smiles, but he ignores the way Jared’s chuckling because it’s annoying how it digs into his chest.
“Where do you want me?”
He shoots Jared a flat look then gets to propping the double-wide table open and flipping it upright.
Once Jared’s up on the table, Jensen joins him, wrapping light weights around his ankle and positioning himself alongside. He immediately bends Jared’s knee to his chest, and through Jared’s practiced breathing, Jensen leans on Jared’s shin to force a deeper stretch then pulls it back. “You feeling anything?”
“Yeah, a little,” Jared replies.
Jensen watches Jared’s face. In place of the typical leer, Jared’s staring at his knee and biting into his lip with some pain. Jensen shifts back to stretch Jared’s leg out then pushes it back up to Jared’s chest, slower this time. “Is it too much?”
“I can deal.”
They pace the stretches for a good ten minutes, switching up positions to get Jared’s knee loose. Jensen’s attention is on Jared’s leg, and he falls into the routine and the easy silence as comfortably as any other patient.
Jared’s breathing becomes more natural and his face loosens up. He tips his head up to an odd angle to watch, and his voice comes out tense. “We’re not moving too fast, right? You’re not gonna bust my knee again?”
Jensen smiles and turns Jared’s knee over his other leg, testing the range of Jared’s muscles. “I won’t bust your knee again.” He brings the leg upright then does it again. “But don’t force it either.”
“You’re the one doing this,” Jared replies, biting again into his lip. “You’re the one who’s gonna screw it up.”
“I won’t screw it up. You have to trust me.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you pay me a lot of money to do this.” Jensen sits back and drags Jared’s leg straight with a hand under his knee and one wrapped around his ankle. “Seems pretty stupid to not have a little faith in me.”
“I have faith in you,” he says quite seriously. “It’s more like having no faith in my knee.”
Jensen keeps going with the stretches and shoots Jared an annoyed look. Jared’s insecurity is starting to get annoying. “Try thinking about something else.”
Jared sighs. “Like what?”
“How about your maid?” Jensen asks with a bit of attitude.
Chuckling, Jared adjusts his free leg. “You want me to tell you how that went this morning?”
Jensen licks his lips and purses them, tugging on Jared’s knee with more force than he knows he should.
With a sharp inhale, Jared awkwardly laughs. “And she’s not my maid anymore. Did you know there’s such a thing as a slutty taxi? It was the longest ride-”
He presses down on Jared’s knee, a valid exercise, but he’s aware it’s more pressure than Jared can likely take right now.
Jared yelps and shuffles away from the pain and when Jensen eases up, Jared turns his cheek to the table. “Okay, I got it.”
Jensen doesn’t reply and, when Jared doesn’t speak further, Jensen covertly watches Jared stare across the room.
His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “So, why on the table?”
“Where would you rather?” he asks before he can help it. He immediately tenses at Jared’s possible response.
“I don’t know, the floor? Then you wouldn’t have to lug the table around.”
“The table’s staying here, and I’m not up for kneeling on your hard floor all afternoon.”
“You don’t have to stay on your knees - ow!” he winces and pulls away when Jensen twists his knee a little.
“Maybe you should think about something else,” Jensen insists. He shuffles and gets back to turning Jared’s knee in different directions.
“You’re brutal.” Jared huffs, leaning up a little to stare at his knee as Jensen moves it. “Alright, fine, other topics. What about your other patients?”
“What about them?”
“You have other patients at the clinic.”
Jensen nods and his mind stays on the task of Jared’s knee. “I do.”
“And they’re okay being pushed aside?”
“I’m sure they’re fine. They’re still being treated, just by someone else.”
Jared laughs lightly and puts his head down on the table, eyes up to the ceiling. “So I’m your most important patient?”
Jensen bites the inside of his cheek just so he won’t smart off, or smile. “You’re my highest paying client.”
“Sounds about the same to me.”
There’s still the slight turn to Jared’s tone, but Jensen powers through the session with as little flinching as possible.
When he leaves, he’s drained beyond belief.
+++
“Why’d you get into physical therapy?” Jared asks the next day.
Jensen’s pressing Jared’s knee into his chest again and realizes their faces are pretty close. The way Jared’s eyes track Jensen’s movements instead of looking at his face makes Jensen smile and relax as he pulls back with Jared’s leg then does it again. “I wanted to help people,” he replies on reflex. It’s the statement he gives everyone who asks.
“You could’ve been a doctor. Or a nurse. A cop.”
“Why’d you go into basketball?” Jensen asks stupidly, deflecting attention. He’s sure he could read that answer in any Sports Illustrated.
“Because I was good at it and I wanted as little school as possible.”
Jensen chuckles and presses forward again with Jared’s shin digging just a little uncomfortably into his chest. “Same here.”
“So, you lack the dedication for a real degree?” Jared jokes.
“I have a masters, I’ll have you know,” Jensen returns playfully, and Jared lights up with a genuine smile. Jensen purposely changes positions to keep working without looking at Jared’s face.
They keep working through the stretches, transitioning to a few that Jared has to maneuver himself, pulling his knee to his chest with Jensen leading the movement. They’re quiet and moving in repetition, but Jared slows down and then completely stops as he picks his head up and stares across the room.
Jensen looks over his shoulder to the flat screen hanging on the wall, always queued to ESPN. This time, however, it’s not a rundown of the Top 5 sports plays or talking heads bickering over preseason football. It’s a replay of a news conference with men in suits seated at a table, grinning together as the one in the middle fields questions. The ribbon on the bottom details some free agent worth millions.
“Motherfucker,” Jared mumbles, pulling himself up to sit on the table.
Shifting back, Jensen looks between the TV and Jared. He’s confused by Jared’s scowl and how intently he watches the screen. “What?”
“That’s,” he groans while shoving a hand through the air angrily. “Christ.”
Jensen watches the TV for a few seconds, but has no better clue on what’s going on. “That’s what?”
“Anthony Burton, that’s who it is.”
“And?”
Jared’s face sets hard and his nostrils flare. “And my agent.”
Jensen tries to pay better attention to the screen. Even as the volume’s set pretty low, he can start pulling the pieces together. Apparently, Jared’s agent has just masterminded one of the biggest signings in the NBA, landing Burton $35 million for a move to New York.
“Shut it off,” Jared instructs.
They’re both on the table, far from the remote or the screen itself, so Jensen makes an odd noise and shrugs.
“Shut it off! I’m not jumping off this table right now.”
Jensen slowly gets to the floor and grabs the remote from a nearby shelving unit and flicks the TV off. “Everything okay?”
Jared flops back on the table and pivots his hips, stretching his leg out. “Where were we?” he asks tightly.
Making progress, Jensen thinks. Not just on Jared’s knee, but in actual conversation and concentration until Jared was distracted by the TV. He’s not about to point that out, so he takes a steady breath and puts on his best smile. Nudging Jared’s leg back into position, he murmurs, “We were about here.”
“Right. Thanks.”
+++
“How do you not care?” Jared nearly shrieks. The way he pulls back from Jensen is more in offense than pain, and it’s proof of how shocked he is that Jensen pulling on his leg to bring him back into position isn’t creating an ounce of a reaction.
“I just don’t,” Jensen shrugs, then lightly tugs on Jared’s ankle.
Jared doesn’t budge. He remains up on his elbows, left knee bent up and right stretched between them with his eyes wide enough it could be comical. Except he’s honestly offended. “You live in Chicago.”
Quite evenly, Jensen replies, “I live in the suburbs.”
“You live in the Chicago area, and you don’t give a shit about our sports?”
“I live in Geneva,” he specifies with the same controlled voice. “And I work in Batavia.”
Some tension leaves Jared’s body, mostly his face, and while he still looks insulted, there’s a trace of something else coming through. “So, you don’t give a shit if I’m back on the court in October.”
“Of course I do.”
“You don’t care if I’m back in action and the team pulls itself together.” Jensen’s about to argue, but Jared pulls a deep, whistling breath and goes on, “You couldn’t care less if we win a championship because you hate Chicago sports and basketball and the Bulls. What the fuck are you doing here then?”
Jensen starts to laugh, ready to huff out God, you’re a child, but he’s not sure that’s the best way to deal with a frustrated client. Beneath all of today’s bravado and Jared’s eagerness to fling shit on his physical therapist, Jensen has spent most of their session reading how Jared’s eyebrows have been drawn together and he’s been clamping his lips together while twisting his knee away from every stretch. Jared’s in pain and instead of acknowledging it, he’s picking fights.
He sits back on his haunches, lets Jared’s leg go, and takes a deep breath. “You’re my patient,” he says calmly, then dips his head to meet Jared’s eyes with the best of intentions. “I care that you’re back on the court because it says I did my job and I helped someone bounce back from a pretty messed up injury.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jared mumbles, looking away.
Jensen kneels up again and softly presses his fingertips around the edges of Jared’s knee. He feels some push back and sees a muscle in Jared’s thigh twitch as he must be fighting to keep his leg from moving. “Why didn’t you tell me it hurt?”
“It doesn’t,” he says, stiffly.
“Yeah, okay,” Jensen laughs back, purposely mocking both Jared and his own bitchy mumbles from seconds ago.
Jared barely smiles, quickly looking away with his cheeks beginning to go pink. “Alright, it kinda hurts. A little.”
Jensen keeps assessing the swelling, pushing fingers against the ligaments to feel a bit of give in the inflammation. “For how long?”
“A couple days.”
“Anything specific happen?” he asks awkwardly. He’s afraid Jared’s going to detail some highly complicated set of pulleys and levers he and Katie were using - though he’ll admit he’s been waiting for this kind of thing to happen since Jared’s been up on his feet more often. Maybe it was the brunette Jensen passed in the hall last Wednesday.
“I woke up sore yesterday and it’s been worse this morning.”
Jensen defiantly keeps his head down so he doesn’t have to witness Jared’s response. “And you didn’t do anything … out of the ordinary?” There’s no answer and Jensen looks up to Jared, chuckling awkwardly. “I don’t really wanna hear it any more than you wanna say it, but I have to know what you’ve been doing to your knee. It’s swelling up and you’re obviously in pain.”
“I didn’t do anything. At all,” Jared pushes on. “Like, literally, I did nothing. It hurt yesterday so I told Katie not to come. Same thing today.”
He’s beginning to imagine more of Jared’s crabbiness is related to not getting laid in two days when he’s been getting it daily for Lord knows how long.
Jared thunks his head to the table and takes a long, noisy breath. “How about we call it a day?” he asks rather pathetically.
Jensen’s not about to argue, especially with Jared in this mood, so he pats Jared’s thigh and moves off the table. He unwraps the Velcro weight from Jared’s ankle and packs his bag up. “Make sure you ice it when you’re resting and wear your brace, even to bed.”
“It’s annoying to sleep in,” Jared mumbles.
“I know, but it helps. And do an hour in the hot tub tomorrow before I come.”
“I did thirty this morning.”
Jensen nods and puts more force into his voice. “And tomorrow, do an hour, even two, with all your exercises. It won’t hurt to let it work in the heat.”
Jared sighs and closes his eyes before Jensen can say more, so Jensen leaves.
+++
Jensen knows he’s early, but given how yesterday’s session went, he wants to make sure Jared actually listened to him and put some time in with his exercises. The house is empty and after a long walk through the place, he finds Jared out back in the hot tub.
“How long you been in there?” Jensen asks as he approaches.
Jared flinches at Jensen’s voice, then laughs to himself. “God, you could kill a man sneaking up behind him.”
Jensen toes off his shoes and socks, rolls his pants up to his knees, and steps up and over the side of the tub, sitting on the top edge. “How’s it feel?”
“Better,” he says, but it sounds like a question. “I’ve been out here nearly two hours and I’m starting to prune, but I didn’t want you to accuse me of not following through.”
There’s a definite show of self-deprecation that’s foreign coming from Jared. Jensen taps his foot at Jared’s hip for attention. “Everything okay?”
“It’s not getting better is it?”
“Of course it is,” Jensen says immediately.
Jared frowns and looks away, face now shrouded in anger. “It’s hurting again and I’m back to the hot tub after just a week.”
“You’re up and walking-”
“Slowly,” Jared laughs bitterly.
“You’re up and walking,” he repeats. “It’s been a little over a month and you’re on your feet. Another few weeks, you’ll be on the treadmill, and after that, you’ll be close.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
Jensen sighs because Jared’s a petulant child right now and he has no patience for it. “I thought you were dedicated to this?”
“I am,” he mumbles.
“Sure doesn’t sound like it. And now this attitude? I’m starting to question what you’re really getting out of this, aside from abusing me.”
Jared bites his lip and drums his fingers along the rim of the tub. One long arm almost reaches Jensen’s side, and somehow, neither of them seems to care. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Jensen snorts lightly, because Jared’s been shitty for a few days now.
“Matt won’t return my calls,” Jared grumbles. He’s nearly seething if Jensen looks closely. Jared sighs and nods to himself. “Sends me texts saying he can’t wait ‘til I’m on the mend. Meanwhile, he’s running the circuit with Anthony fucking Burton.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Jensen murmurs. At the moment, Burton’s deal is the hottest news buzzing through the clinic. He’s felt odd for the past few days knowing how pissed Jared is about it while his coworkers are excited about the prospect.
Jared watches him, then eases up. “I was a dick about the sports thing. But I really care about this. My knee and my career and this city. I don’t wanna burn out because I twisted my knee and be known for ruining the best team this city’s seen.”
Jensen laughs, shocked and insulted. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“Okay, you’re my patient and you pay me and all, but fuck you and your ‘best team this city’s seen’ bull shit. I lived through the eighties and nineties and no one - no one - is gonna replace 72-10.”
Jared is the one to laugh now, bright and taunting. “I knew it! You’re such a dirty liar saying you don’t care about sports.”
Jensen smacks Jared’s shoulder and shakes his head, chuckling, “You can’t live in Chicago and not give a shit about Michael Jordan.”
“But you don’t give a shit about it now.”
Rolling his shoulders into a stilted shrug, Jensen slowly, stupidly explains, “It’s just not the same as it was.” Jared’s nodding, but Jensen can read the awkwardness of the conversation. “I was a kid with nothing but the Bulls to watch, and you threw up three pointers like Kerr and Paxon, and a half dozen others dunked like Jordan and Pippen, or whoever. And then it all fell apart, and I-”
“You’re bitter?”
Jensen looks at Jared; he’s smirking at Jensen, but Jensen can feel the challenge. He also feels the rise of memories from long ago that contribute to his opinions. “Yeah, I am,” he admits.
“So you’re bitter about the Bulls ending their championship run and because of that you’re always shooting me down and keeping me at arm’s length?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m shooting you down because you’re kind of disgusting.”
“Am not,” Jared insists. “You’ve only seen me at my worst.”
“And you’re not really my type,” Jensen says, just so he doesn’t have to consider what Jared at his best would really be.
“Multi-millionaire, NBA All Star is everyone’s type.”
“Stubborn, spoiled kid is more like it.”
Jared splashes water at Jensen’s leg, soaking his pants and laughing. “You’re an asshole.”
Jensen kicks water up at Jared’s face, proudly grinning when Jared sputters and wipes down his face in rush.
It only takes a few seconds for Jared to respond and next Jensen knows, they’re slapping water at each other. He feels it seep through his clothes and dampen his skin and his neck, getting up in his hair, but he keeps swinging right back tit for tat with Jared. Until Jared launches himself up and curls an arm around Jensen’s neck, tugging him down towards the surface and slushing water right in his face. It’s comical and Jensen’s laughing, he really is, but in between splashes, he sees Jared bending his bad knee back and hopping on his good leg.
Jensen grabs Jared’s arms and wrenches one away as he shouts to stop. Jared’s fighting him back, but the moment Jensen winds Jared’s arm behind his back, Jared yelps and twists away. Jensen lets him, backing way as well and pulling his hand down his face to clear water from his eyes.
As Jared scrambles back to sit, Jensen leans forward to support his knee with another hand under Jared’s arm. “This is why you shouldn’t be screwing around.”
Jared grunts as he settles comfortably. “Literally, too, huh?”
Jensen chuckles lightly and pulls Jared’s leg up, massaging Jared’s vastus muscles, kneading into his thigh to loosen up the tension. “Sorry to say, but yeah.”
“We still have to work on the table, don’t we?”
He works his hands down over Jared’s knee, thumbing along the joints and pressing his fingers into the top of the calf. “Yeah, but I’ll go easy on you.”
“That’ll be a nice change of pace.”
Jensen smiles and straightens Jared’s leg, easily bending it back and forth like it should move at this point in therapy. “You’re doing good, Jared. Don’t let a little pain get to you. It’s part of the process.”
After a sharp inhale, Jared asks, “No pain, no gain?”
“Cliché, but yeah. A little bit.” Jensen moves back to Jared’s vastuses, kneading with the pads of his thumbs and sliding down to Jared’s knee again.
Jared breaths deep again and pushes his back against the tub. “That feels good.”
Jensen smoothes the heel of one hand over the narrow part of Jared’s thigh then grips around the muscle and rubs into it. “I’m not all bad.”
“No, you’re not. You’re good at this.”
He glances up and catches Jared’s easy face, the way he’s just looking at Jensen without anything but respect and maybe wonder. Jensen doesn’t bother questioning it, or how it makes his chest tight and his fingers fumble as he continues working Jared’s leg.
+++
“So how’s megastar training going?” Chris asks as he puts a few bottles of beer down to the table.
Jensen grabs one and sips instantly, purposely dragging out time to think up the best answer. He fishes for one that won’t tell of Jared’s typical demeanor, how he goes between entitled come-ons and sullen worry about the state of his knee. Jensen has the attention of his coworkers, no matter which Cubs reliever is making an appearance or how close the Sox are to a ninth-inning comeback on the big screens.
“Yeah, how’re his muscles?” Kristen asks with a grin.
“It’s going good,” he says to Chris. “And they’re healing,” he says to Kristen. “He’ll be running suicides in no time.”
“It’s good?” Danneel asks, leaning across the table. She’s watching him with her head tipped to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Really?”
Jensen chuckles and nods, doing his best to stay cool. “Yeah, it’s moving along fine. He’s totally dedicated.”
“Who’s he seeing?” Jessica asks excitedly.
He thinks about the fact that Jared said he’d stopped having Katie visit. Not to mention that none of the girls he’s ever encountered at Jared’s house seem like they’re there to date. “No one, I guess?”
Jessica tsks. “You guess? He doesn’t talk about it?”
“I’m his physical therapist, why would he tell me?” Jensen figures it’s a good enough line considering it should be true.
“You don’t see anything around the house?” Kristen asks. “Or hear who he talks to?”
“Uh, no,” he drags out. “We work on his leg and I come back the clinic.” He shares a look with Danneel and can see Chris watching him from the corner of his eye. He ignores them both and laughs as he leans back. “Seriously? Is this all we’re gonna talk about?”
Jessica sighs and drops miserably into her seat. “You barely talk about it as it is. It’s been over a month, you’ve got to have some good gossip.”
“I would assume this is why Sam didn’t choose you,” he says into the lip of his bottle before drinking.
Another sigh and Jessica gets up and corrals a handful of coworkers into a round of darts. Jensen watches them go, then finds Chris and Danneel still staring at him. “What?”
“What kinda trouble you getting yourself into?” Chris asks.
Jensen shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”
Danneel sits up and motions at Jensen. “Weeks ago you hated going there and lately you’ve been strangely … happy.”
“I can’t be happy that my patient’s progressing?”
“You’re often very happy your patients are progressing,” Chris agrees. “But not this one. Any time we ask you about him, you sigh, roll your eyes, and change the subject.”
“You hated going there,” Danneel points out.
Jensen’s a few bottles in, having downed beers while his coworkers rattled on about the Cubs’ position in their division while he waited for better conversation - namely Chris and Danneel - to arrive. That coupled with the fact that he’s sitting at the table with his two closest friends, he lets a rush of air out through his nose before he laughs at himself. “Okay, so it was miserable in the beginning. He’s crude and incredibly pushy, but it’s fine now. He has decent moments.”
Chris makes a face as he brings his bottle up to drink. “Sucks that it’s finally working when you’ll be done soon.”
He thinks about how bad Jared’s knee really is and how slowly therapy is moving to ensure the muscles are ready for some real work. He told Jared it would remain their secret and no matter how loose his lips feel right now, he’s set to keep that part under wraps. “Yeah, that sucks,” he mumbles, then takes a long drag from his beer.
Danneel shifts so they’re turned into each other. “You keep saying he’s sleazy and offensive.”
“I do not,” Jensen insists.
“You’ve said it a few times,” she says. They sit in a strange silence, commentary from the Sox game overhead and bunches of people across the bar cheering with a routine single bringing a runner in. Danneel fusses as she tries to put words together and finally asks, “Is he hitting on you?”
“No,” Jensen nearly shouts in defense.
“Oh, my God,” Chris exclaims.
“No, he’s not!” Jensen yells back with his hands out towards them.
Danneel’s mouth drops ridiculously wide as she stares at him. She mouths Chris’s exact words and can’t take her eyes off of Jensen.
Jensen fights for the right response, but he figures the time it takes to come up with one is enough of an answer.
Danneel and Chris share a long, shocked look and then bust into surprised laughter. “Je-sus!” she shrieks. “No wonder you keep going!”
Chris rises to smack Jensen on the shoulder. “Christ, boy, you really did get some good dirt.”
“No, come on, seriously,” Jensen argues, but it’s futile given how excitable his friends are. “I didn’t say anything.”
They settle down a bit, but are still grinning and struggling to drink without spilling beer over the lips of their bottles. “No, no, it’s okay,” Danneel says, nodding. “Secret’s safe here.”
Jensen shakes his head, doing all he can to not watch them be this way. “No, really. It’s a big deal. We have this understanding-”
“Oh, I bet you do!” Chris crows.
“Not like that!”
“What happens in Padalecki Palace, stays in Padalecki Palace?”
“Not like that!” Jensen repeats louder. “There’re women there all the time. He’s extremely healthy in that regard. Well, not lately, but there were!”
Chris and Danneel look at each other and laugh all over again.
Jensen gets a solid promise from the both of them to keep their traps shut, though they’re still hysterical over the whole matter.
He supposes it’s better than nothing.
NEXT
Originally posted at http://www.dreamwidth.org/12345.html