R | Secret Agent Man | J2 | Part Two
As soon as he’s home, he calls the store and finds out that it’s pretty messed up, but that all three kids had run after Jared. Sandy and Chad aren’t hurt, but both are pretty freaked out by the whole thing. He has no words for them, and no promises of returning to work, but he does tell them that they should definitely call the police and close up shop.
He eyes the blue globe and tries to figure out the best course of action. He can’t come up with one, but the only idea in his head is to try for the lab. It takes him most of the afternoon to even attempt to work his way back to that building, not remembering any details of the outside because it was just white cement buried among a half dozen other non-descript buildings, and he just stares up at each of them. He tries a few, but security in the lobbies won’t let him pass, and none recognize any mention of an Agent Ackles. He scoffs to himself when he exits the fourth building, figuring that even if he were right it’s unlikely anyone would acknowledge an FBI agent.
Ready to give up, Jared backtracks to the main intersection and jogs across the street to pick up the bus three blocks down. He’s walking swiftly, figuring one will come any minute. But then he gets this feeling, and he has no clue where it comes from. But he looks over his shoulder and spots one of the kids walking about fifty yards back. The teenager’s looking nonchalant, like he’s out and about on his own accord, but then he looks to Jared and smirks.
Jared keeps walking, getting a little quicker, and looks behind him every few storefronts. The teenager’s still following him, keeping the pace. He jogs the rest of the block and rounds the corner, breaking out into a run to reach the next alley. But the kid’s on his heels, matching each step, and when Jared races through the alley, the kid’s right on him, reaching out to grab hold of his shirt and tackle him to the ground.
They’re wrestling, getting dirty in the filth of the alley, and throwing elbows and knees, but Jared can’t get any leverage on the kid, even if he’s at least half a foot shorter and slim as a rail. Jared’s trying to fight back, trying so hard to grab hold of the kid, but when he grips onto his forearm, the skin is slippery and stretches with his fingers like rubber.
He stops moving, horrified, and staring at the way it pulls from the kid’s arm but never tears. “Oh, gross” Jared whines.
The teenager takes that moment to pound a fist into Jared’s jaw and pain breaks across his face as he groans. There’re more punches tossed between Jared’s upper cheek, his stomach, and a few to his upper arms as he’s trying to move away.
Seconds later, the kid’s flying away from him and when Jared can manage to figure anything out at all, it’s Agent Ackles forcing the kid down, knee to his back, and swiftly reaching for his gun. One quick fire immobilizes him, just like the teenager the day before.
Jared’s breathing hard through it all, but can’t manage to do anything but drop his head back down to the ground and rest palms at his chest. He stares up at the sky above him and keeps willing oxygen into his lungs and for his heart rate to slow down.
“You okay?” Ackles asks from his position, still holding the body to the ground even when it’s not moving.
“What? The Fuck?” he breathes out.
There’s a chuckle, but when Jared looks over, Ackles is shaking his head and staring down on the body with the strictest of faces. He uses his phone to call in the same details he’d used the day before, but doesn’t seem so hesitant to say it this time.
Jared turns over, rising to his feet and wiping down his dirty pants. “What the hell’s going on?”
The agent looks over with an odd glance, like he’s considering answering the question, but he just looks back down at the body.
He moves closer and stares down on the teenager, thinking of all that happened at the pet store, being chased to the bus, and now this. Tackled and rough housed, and basically beat up. Jared suddenly tastes bitter copper and he presses a thumb to the corner of his mouth, coming up with blood. He looks back down and kicks the kid in the shin. “Little shit.”
“You not much of a fighter?” Ackles asks with a tiny, barely-there smile.
“Kid’s half my size. Didn’t wanna hurt him.”
He nods back. “Looks like he did a number on you.”
Jared swipes his thumb again and finds more blood. He spits at the body and Ackles watches the red spit land on the kid’s jeans.
“Feel better now?”
He shakes his head, but won’t answer because then there’s an unmarked van pulling down the alley and Ackles rises to address the two suited men who come from the car. They all work together to get the kid into the back of the van and it seems to Jared like they restrain him to the floor of the empty back, and it’s still crazy in his mind that he’s in the middle of all this.
All three move to the side and whisper, low enough that Jared can’t make out any real words, but loud enough that he’s a little freaked by Ackles muttering Zorbet, and he’s instantly reminded of the pet shop. He tries to interrupt, but all he gets are three serious agent faces that look annoyed that he’s speaking. “Agent Ackles? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ackles works his mouth and glances back at the others before silently moving closer to Jared.
“That Zorbet thing?” Ackles visibly stiffens and takes a deep breath. “This kid was in the store earlier today with two others. And they said the same thing.”
His eyes go a little wide, like he’s surprised but trying to control it. He looks at the other agents then back to Jared. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“They said Zorbet?”
Jared gives a crabby voice, “Not likely to forget that.”
Hands go to his hips as the agent leans a little closer, fully interested. “What’d they say about it?”
“Why? What is it?”
Ackles answers quickly, but lamely. “Suburb about twenty miles north.”
Jared tips his head and purses his lips, so not believing a bit of it.
“What’d they say about it?” Ackles repeats.
“I don’t remember anything else. But they said they were looking for something, and then they shot up the place.”
His eyebrows crinkle, almost in concern. “Everything okay there?”
“They shot up the place,” Jared reminds him with a bit of a ‘duh’ sound there. “It’s wrecked. But Sandy and Chad are fine, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What were they looking for?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say. But they ran after me from the store. And then this here.”
“You didn’t hear them say anything else?”
He shakes his head, but then he remembers that morning and he reaches into his pocket. He shows the globe to Ackles without a word, because he’s not even sure how to explain it.
Ackles’ eyes blow wide and they go between the orb and Jared’s face, back and again. He visibly gulps. “Where’d you find that?”
With an awkward glance and tone, Jared says lamely, “In the alley. The one from yesterday.”
Ackles reaches out slowly, as if he doesn’t want to even touch it. But he finally plucks it from Jared’s grasp, rolling it into his palm and jamming it inside his jacket.
Jared sighs and rolls his eyes, because seriously what isn’t stored in there.
A hand goes to Jared’s back as Ackles turns to the other agents. “You guys bring the kid back to the office. I have something else to take care of.”
He knows he’s been questioning everything that Agent Ackles has been doing or saying since he met the guy two, three days ago. But with the guy’s hand at his back, firm and steady, he’s not going to complain. So he follows him a few blocks, walking in silence, until they reach an unmarked sedan and Ackles motions for him to take the passenger seat. But Jared can’t hold out for long and once in the seat, he gently asks, “What is that thing?”
Ackles seems to think carefully on his answer. He answers strangely, “Part of the case.”
Jared frowns and stares out the window, watching the passing traffic.
“You know, Jared,” Ackles starts oddly. “I’d tell you if I could. But I don’t need you getting into any trouble.”
Jared looks over with a small smile, still liking that the agent has ceased calling him Mr. Padalecki. “I’ve had rabid teenagers following me all morning. What constitutes trouble?”
He doesn’t find out immediately, as he’s debriefed at the office, which he finds out was a good mile from the buildings he’d been checking out before. So off, and Jared curses himself, because if he’d remembered correctly, he’d never have gotten attacked. But on the other hand, Ackles wouldn’t have found him and rescued him. So Jared considers it a win.
There are a zillion questions about the pet shop and the teenagers and the globe, but Jared has to answer I don’t know to a majority of them. He gives a few basic details about what he does know, but no one seems very impressed with any of it.
Ackles walks him back out to the lobby, and there’s much less to discuss in this goodbye because his face is stern and he gives one word answers, but he does issue Jared his business card. Which looks pretty damned plain and doesn’t even have the letters F, B, or I on it. Just Agent Ackles with a phone number.
The guy points a firm finger at it. “In case of emergencies.”
Jared holds it between two fingers and salutes in return.
*
There isn’t much he can do to will it all away from his brain. It works overtime in remembering the teenagers chasing him, the guns and lights, the floating orb within the blue ball he had to turn over to Ackles, getting his face beat to a pulp, and how he has no earthly idea what it’s really a part of.
He tries to escape from it all by heading to the movies, taking in a late night double feature of some old time pulp movies from the late fifties. They usually take his mind off so much, but when Manhunt features a damsel in distress being tormented by troublesome delinquents and chased into a nearly pitch black alley, Jared shuffles in his seat with a rough sigh as he recalls his own experiences in a similar set up.
Between films, he grabs some popcorn and a large soda in the lobby, and tries to ignore the notion that someone is again following him, or watching him. He’s not certain, really, and it’s likely just his nerves on edge from the whole thing. So he sucks down the food and drink at lightning speed and tries to ignore any noises around him. There’s a couple in front of him to the right who are cuddling, one a little further to the left who can’t stop necking, and a group of kids in the balcony who keep tossing popcorn over the edge as they laugh hysterically at all the bad puns and cheesy dialogue of Devil’s Highway.
Jared even rolls his eyes a few times at the film noir-ish narration, the cadence of the overwrought voice. But somehow, over all the noise of car chases and women screaming, he hears distinct words muttered somewhere above him. Like Lutron and Royal Sky, and it all just hits him deep in the stomach. He turns his head slowly, trying to figure out where it’s coming from, and he spots two teenagers, the others from the pet store that morning, watching the screen and then eventually staring right at Jared.
“Oh, come on,” he whispers with a whine, because really how and why do they keep tracking him down. He turns back to the screen, thumping his head at the back of the seat and cursing his luck to be involved in any of this.
At a particularly dark scene, out in a field where a deranged man is creeping up beyond a couple making out in a fogged up car, Jared slips from his seat and slinks up the aisle and into the lobby. In the light, he glances back and happily sighs at being alone, except when he turns back to the front door, one of the kids is inches from his face, gleaming with a smile.
“Oh, hey,” Jared chuckles nervously and sidesteps him. “How you doing?”
“How you doing?” the kid asks, voice tight.
“Just uh,” he laughs oddly. “Crappy movie, ya know?”
“That one’s my favorite by far,” the second kid says as he sidles up along the other one.
“Well, you don’t wanna miss it, right? Best part’s probably coming now.” Jared slowly makes his way to the front door, but the two are following at the same speed, keeping their eyes trained on his movements. “Gonna miss the lovebirds getting ripped to shreds by the maniac killer, you know? Hate for you to miss that,” and he just keeps rambling as he nears the front door, watching them follow. “Oh, fuck it,” he mumbles and shoves through the exit and runs down the street.
He’s tackled into an alley by both kids, and he tries grabbing hold of them, to stop the beatings, but again, the skin stretches far beyond the imagination and he can’t get any control of the fight. Jared finally tucks into a ball and protects his head, but then they push him to his stomach, one pressing hard into his back while the other pats down his entire body.
They’re no longer talking, but making noises of the beep and meep and squeak variety, and Jared’s more freaked out by it all. When he looks up, there are no longer two teenagers standing over him, but two … blobs? He’s not even sure what he’s seeing, but they’re fat and slimy and have heads the size of basketballs. There are sloppy arms that reach down to him and he huddles back into a ball as they push at his head, knocking it back into the cement. It’s so freaking gross and Jared’s whining through it all because they’re slippery and greasy and won’t stop touching him.
He hears a few zings that remind him of the guns from the store, and then a loud thump, followed by a second and he sees a waterfall of glop spread around him.
Jared tries to jump up to all fours, but his back is killing him and his head throbs, and suddenly there’s blood dripping into one of his eyes. He blinks against it, wiping at the fluid coursing down his forehead, and he holds pressure there to stop it. Hands grab onto his arms and pull him up, and he’s cursing and fighting, but then there’s a voice trying to soothe. “Hey, Jared, come on.”
He knows it’s Ackles, and he’s even more surprised when the guy pulls him away but settles on the ground with Jared leaning on him. The hands go to his forehead, inspecting the injuries and the guy’s wincing for Jared’s pain, like he isn’t wincing enough himself.
“You okay? Everything feel okay?”
“I feel great,” he grumbles back.
Ackles pulls a handkerchief from inside his jacket - Jared groans at that, but doesn’t have enough brain power to even think further on it - and he presses it against Jared’s forehead to stop the blood.
“I even need to ask what’s going on?”
Muscles tense in Ackles’ face as he shifts away to look at the other side of Jared’s head and check for more injuries. “Was following you,” he mumbles, distracted.
Jared keeps his eyes to the ground with Ackles so close to him. But he still grumbles, “You know I’m not the bad guy?”
“Yes. I know,” he replies with a tense tone. “But the bad guys are also following you.” He stands in an instant, seemingly satisfied with Jared’s appearance, and pulls him up. “We have to get out of here.”
He looks over to the blobs and he’s surprised to see them melting, pooling into puddles of blue and green goop. Just like what he saw from the oranges a few days ago. “What the?”
Ackles sighs and grabs onto Jared’s arms to bring him away from the mess. “They actually die when they’re in their natural forms.”
“Natural?” Jared asks with a slight shriek to his voice.
There is a sudden pounding above them, and Ackles looks up to the sky, Jared following. They both spot flickering lights above them and a helicopter motioning a strobe around, narrowly missing them in the alley. “We have to go.”
“Wait, hang on, “Jared starts, trying to fight out of the agent’s grasp.
“You really wanna stay and debate the logistics of all this?” Ackles looks up again and when he faces Jared, he’s angry with fire in his eyes. Well, not literally, but Jared’s kind of freaked with the intensity. “Now of all times?”
Jared shrugs awkwardly but follows, letting the agent lead him out of the alley and quickly back to his car by the theater.
*
“So. Aliens.”
“Yeah,” Ackles answers plainly.
“Aliens.”
“Yeah.”
“On Earth.”
Ackles easily adds, “And Mars. Venus. Pluto once.”
“Just once?”
“Reason they took it off the Planetary Registry.”
Jared nods with wide eyes and a slightly cynical glare. “Right. Planetary Registry. Good to know.”
The agent keeps navigating through city streets and seems perfectly fine with the subject matter, which strikes Jared so strangely.
“So what? You’re like MIB or something?”
Ackles nods as he turns corners, not looking at Jared. “Basically. Yeah.”
“What was that green stuff? From the orange?”
He licks his lips, like he’s nervous to answer. But he finally does. “Amniotic fluid.”
Jared’s voice gets sharp. “Excuse me?”
His head dips a little and the agent looks uncomfortable with having to clarify, “From the fetus.”
Jared stares, unable to really formulate a response. He looks out the window, holding his breath as long as he can, then sighs it out, nice and loud. He turns back to the agent. His voice is low, but obviously annoyed. “Alien fetus?”
The nod is small and short, but Jared reads it loud and clear.
“I had alien baby. On my hands,” he complains, getting louder as he continues on. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”
Ackles works his tongue in his mouth again. “It was classified.”
He scoffs and looks back out the window. “Ohh, right. Classified. Let’s not tell Jared that he has alien fluid burning off his hands.”
“We got you CS-57 and TN-93. You survived.”
Another scoff and he waves a hand in the air. “Oh, so maybe I wouldn’t have otherwise?”
Clearing his throat, Ackles refuses to look over. “It has happened, yes.”
“Hah!” He crosses his arms and sulks for a few moments, not even knowing what else to say here. His breathing is loud and angry, and he starts shaking his head at the ridiculousness of this whole thing.
“Jared, I couldn’t say anything, okay?” The voice is careful and Ackles has lost all formality. “We’re undercover for a reason.”
He settles a little at the sound of his voice and he glances for a second to see the guy actually looks bothered by it as well. It makes Jared feel a little better. At a stop light, Jared looks around them, seeing how the blocks are slowly turning suburban and he wonders where they’re really heading and what’s going on. Instead, he asks carefully, “Can I call you Jensen?”
Ackles looks over before turning back to the street and following the green light with a tight hand on the wheel. “Pardon?”
Jared shrugs and watches the agent purposely keep his eyes anywhere but to the passenger seat. “You’re finally calling me by my first name. Figure it’s only right.” He sees how Ackles works his mouth, not really coming up with an answer, but Jared smirks anyway. “Unless Agent’s really your first name? Jensen the middle?”
It’s silent until the car comes to a stop in a driveway, Jared eyes the simple box house in front of them and follows Ackles out of the car and up the walk. “What’s going on?”
He swiftly works the lock and ushers Jared inside, flipping his keyring around his finger before dropping it on a side table. In seconds, Jared realizes that this is Ackles’ house, and he shoots the agent a hesitant glance, but the guy just nods down the hallway and leads the way to the kitchen. He digs a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it over. “Sit at the table. I’ll clean you up.”
Jared sits and just looks around the room, alone for a few seconds before Ackles returns with a few towels and a first aid kit. He puts everything on the table then slips out of his jacket, hanging it at a nearby chair before rolling up his shirt sleeves, folding them to the elbows. And the guy’s ridiculously hot this way, halfway between business and relaxed, but Jared tries to hide how heated he feels under his skin.
Ackles moves close with a wet rag, swiping at Jared’s forehead, dragging it carefully up to his hairline and clearing all the dried blood. There’s no way to ignore how close the agent is, standing between Jared’s spread legs, and Jared can only stare at the plain black tie and the expanse of white shirt that covers Ackles’ stomach. He wants to lean forward, just get a little closer and maybe trail his hands up the back of the Ackles’ legs, but then he shifts away to grab something else at the table and works quietly. “Here, stand up,” Ackles says quietly, nudging at Jared’s arm. When Jared does, Ackles lifts the shirt sleeve up and cleans up more cuts, from Jared being tackled to the ground. Again, he works silently, just taking care of the deepest gashes with ointment and band-aids, and clearing away any of the dried blood from the skin.
It’s awkward. Awkward as hell. At least when they were crabbing at each other and Jared was convinced Ackles didn’t give a crap about him, they were talking and he was willing to say whatever he thought. But here, Jared can’t manage to get the words out that are coursing through his brain. The ones that make him think of Ackles’ able hands or the juicy lips or the way his eyes darkened in his dream that morning.
“Middle name’s Ross,” Ackles says gently, and a bit strangely, really.
“Hmm?” Jared asks, looking over his shoulder to see the agent still cleaning up his shoulder.
“First name’s Jensen.” He looks up for a second, so quickly, but enough that Jared sees that he’s not mad or tense or being as utterly professional as he’d been over the last few days. “Middle is Ross.”
Jared smiles a little, and turns forward, head dipping down. “Noted,” he smirks.
“You can say it. I won’t deck you.”
When he looks over, Ackles is letting the sleeve fall back and he’s turning to collect the supplies. But Jared can see a tiny smile there. “Promise?”
He turns slightly, enough to watch Jared for a few moments before he says anything. The quiet is making Jared nervous, but he likes that they’re being civil and dare he say … flirting? “Promise to not deck you.” Jared nods, and Ackles adds, “For using my first name. Anything else is always a possibility.”
Jared chuckles and leans against the nearby kitchen counter, sipping water and waiting for Ackles … Jensen his mind says gently, happily … to return. In the time that he’s gone, Jared runs fingers over his bandages, and starts picking at a corner of tape on his forehead that has hair stuck to it, pulling tight and hurting.
It’s then that Jensen returns and frowns as he crosses the room. “Like a child. Can’t leave well enough alone.”
He groans a little at being caught, but then he whines. “It’s got hair. Hurts, man.”
Jensen moves close, reaching up to the bandage. He holds bits of Jared’s hair while he tugs the tape off and tries to resettle it. And while the notion is nice and thoughtful, Jared’s kind of cursing the guy for standing so close, having his head and mouth so near his own. The eyes flicker for a second to Jared’s and now Jared curses him for having such clear green eyes that fit so perfectly on his face, and that keep glancing back at Jared while he fixes the tape. The hands give up and drop, and Jensen asks with gruffness in his voice, “You doing okay?”
A few times he has to blink away the thickness he feels surrounding him, and he swallows it down as he nods.
His eyes make a quick drop down Jared’s face before they meet his eyes, and he slowly edges in closer. Jared doesn’t move aside from clenching his fists open and closed, trying to will himself to just reach out and touch Jensen, but he’s frozen, waiting, wanting him to lead it because going too far too soon will likely land him in a pit of trouble. Then Jensen does, for his mouth grazes Jared’s, hesitant, barely there even while the lips open and gently grab onto Jared’s bottom lip for a quick second before he begins to move back. Jared finally leans close, his lips pulling Jensen’s mouth right back to his, and he can finally manage his hands, each grabbing at Jensen’s bare elbows, fingers sliding under the folded cuffs. Jensen moves in, his palms slipping to Jared’s back and keeping him close.
They’re kissing, with Jensen leaning into Jared’s body, pressing him to the counter as he forces his tongue in, and they’re pushing back on the other’s mouth, trying to control it all. They fight for leverage, and Jared tries well enough, one hand going to the back of Jensen’s head and the other gripping tight at his back. And while neither of them rightfully take control, Jared reels at the fact that they’re kissing, and he considers it a win-win situation.
His arm winds around Jensen’s neck, the other around the back, pulling him in even tighter, practically hugging him to his body. But they just keep going, never breaking, not getting too needy, but not slowing down at all. Jared’s reminded of lazy make outs in high school, when he was almost too afraid to go to the next base, too afraid to scare off his date. And Jared feels exactly like that.
The first to pull back is Jensen, winded and huffing air like he’ll die. His eyes are blown and darker than even Jared remembers from his dream, but he loves them and can’t stop staring right into them. “I’m sorry,” Jensen mutters as he steps back and releases Jared.
Jared just shakes his head a little and smiles gently as he sees Jensen nervously stand before him, not touching but not moving away. “Jensen,” he says quietly.
His head picks up. “Yeah?”
And for the first time Jared’s ever seen … Jensen’s face is open. Just watching and waiting for Jared to speak. So he says the exact thing on his mind. “Just wanted to say it.” Jensen raises an eyebrow and Jared smirks a bit more. “You know, the name. Just wanted to actually hear it.”
Jensen smirks and rubs at the back of his neck while glancing away and finally taking a step out of the space.
There’s nothing to do but let Jensen move away. Jared refuses to apologize for any of it, and instead he asks casually, “So what’s the protocol on being involved with someone involved with a case?”
He swipes a thumb at his bottom lip and Jared’s sure it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. “Pretty sure it’s prohibited.”
With a slight frown, Jared looks down to his feet and when he looks up again, Jensen’s moving over to his jacket at the table. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.” Jared says while watching Jensen lift his jacket from the chair then sift through a few pockets and comes up with his phone, wheeling through a few displays and Jared crowds him for a second. “Can I just?”
Looking up from the phone, Jensen asks oddly, “Can you what?”
Jared doesn’t even pause, but grabs at the jacket and starts going through it. “What in the hell do you keep in here?” He hears Jensen chuckle, so he goes on with an easy voice. “I mean, seriously. Every time I see you, you’re throwing something in and taking something else out.”
On the table, he lays out a second cell phone, the mini camera he saw that first day, a leather-bound notepad, a few pens, glasses case, two guns, business card holder, second holder with the lab cards, a GPS-looking display gadget, handcuffs, sunglasses, and his badge. Jensen looks at it all on the table and just shrugs. “I have to carry a lot of stuff.”
“People use pants pockets on occasion.”
Jensen leans close and grabs the coat from Jared. “I bought a good jacket for a reason.”
He crosses his arms and just smirks. “Yeah? How much it cost you per pocket?”
Shaking his head, he moves away, but Jared spots the smirk there. And he has to admit that it feels it pretty darned good to make Jensen smile. Finally.
Jared’s left in the kitchen alone while Jensen puts his jacket away, and when he comes back, Jared casually leans back on the counter where they’d just made out. It feels awesome to think about that fact. “So, what do we do next?”
With a look to his watch, he shrugs. “We got plenty of time for you to take inventory of my closet. See how much crap I cram in there.”
“That sounds like a fun game.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.
*
They wind up on the couch, watching TV, not sitting too close, but not too far away. And after all that they’ve both been involved with over the last few days, it doesn’t take long for them to drift off into sleep for bit of a nap.
Jared rouses at some loud noises on the TV and finds that it’s clearly the middle of the night with how dark the room is. When he shifts up a little, there’s a weight at his shoulder. He looks down to Jensen’s head resting at the very edge while the guy’s turned into himself, arms crossed tightly and body leaving just enough space between them to not touch but to be right there. Jared smiles and leans further into the cushions and a little closer to Jensen.
But it doesn’t last long because Jensen’s phone’s beeping with intent, constantly and quickly, so they both sit up and while rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jensen reads. Then groans. He motions to tuck the phone into his jacket by habit, but he’s still in the suit shirt with a loose tie, so it doesn’t work. He leans forward with another groan, resting elbows at his knees then his forehead at his fist, still holding the phone. “Have to go into the office.”
Jared focuses more on stretching at the couch than at reaching for Jensen, or even reacting to the thought of having to be apart after finding this comfortable thing between them. He shrugs, “I can come.”
He tips his head towards Jared but keeps it against his hand, staring then frowning a little. With a deep breath, he says sarcastically, “Yeah, and ask a bazillion questions?”
With a smirk, Jared asks, “When have I ever done that?”
Jensen just quirks an eyebrow then turns forward and rubs hands over his thighs. “Although … not sure I want to leave you alone.”
Jared shifts forward on the couch to sit like Jensen. “Sure it’s not just that you don’t want to leave?” he asks with a friendly bump of his knee. And when Jensen turns towards him, he doesn’t even think, just moves forward and kisses him. It goes on for a bit with Jensen reaching a hand up to touch his face, but it’s the one with the phone so it doesn’t do much but just land at Jared’s shoulder.
Pulling back, Jensen looks down at their knees touching. “You can come if you can behave.” He looks back up with a high eyebrow, “Okay?”
He nudges his head to Jensen’s. “Not impossible.”
Jensen taps the side of Jared’s head with the phone and smirks before rising from the couch to gather up everything Jared had dumped on the kitchen table, and then retrieve a fresh jacket. It has just as many pockets as the one before and Jared wants to laugh at it, but Jensen issues him a stern glare, and Jared realizes they’re slipping into Agent Mode, and he should really mind himself.
*
They enter the lobby and walk with purpose to the elevators, Jensen in his typical agent suit, and Jared with a fresh white tee and a button-up shirt kept open - both from Jensen’s closet, and neither fitting very well. But Jensen had insisted he not show up to the office in a bloody shirt. Despite being pretty ill-fitting, Jared likes the smell of Jensen’s laundry detergent and it feels so high school to wear the guy’s clothes, and he knows it’s ridiculous and a little too fluffy for everyday standards, but he’s made out with Jensen. Twice. So he thinks it’s all just awesome.
Jared does a good job of not embarrassing himself, or Jensen, and keeping quiet. When they’re on their own in empty hallways, he asks little questions, like what a highly secure door leads to, or if he can see the alien holding cells. Jensen smarts off with a clipped voice, The disco lounge, and Only if you’re good and don’t touch anything.
No one really questions his presence, even while Jensen leads him to an interrogation room and combs through some files, satellite images, and cues up video from the alien they’d taken away from the alley when Jared was first attacked.
But then Danneel rushes into the room with a thick file and starts talking without looking up. “Jensen, there was a 74-19 on the third panel. Think we should isolate - ” And when she does finally see the entire room, she spots Jared and stalls. She stares between the two, then succinctly says, “Oh.”
Jared offers a tiny wave and smile while Jensen stands and immediately moves closer, looking over her shoulder to see the graphs in her folder. “How long’s it been above 70?”
She looks at Jared for a bit longer then up to Jensen, who just shakes his head and repeats his question. Her head tips and she glares at him. And he pretty much does the same back before moving his head to the other side like he’s trying to say something with his eyes and she’s not listening.
He barks, “Danneel. No.”
“Jensen,” she says sternly, then tips her head again and keeps staring.
Jared stands and nervously rubs his palms at his jeans. “Uh, should I leave you two alone?”
“No, it’s fine,” Jensen replies, motioning a hand at him to sit back down.
Danneel’s head moves forward, like she’s asking another question and Jared can see how her jaw is clenching. “You sure?”
“It’s fine.” Jensen points back at the graph and his eyebrows go high. She sighs and looks down on it, staying silent, and Jensen replies tiredly, “You’re kidding me?” She flips a piece of paper and there are more moments of quiet until Jensen sighs. “Two, and no, I don’t know.”
“What?” Jared squawks softly, utterly confused.
Jensen looks up to Jared, still so straight faced but then it eases a little and he points back at the papers, even though Jared can’t see them. “She said their ESA … DNA …” He waves a hand, like he’s excusing something that Jared wouldn’t understand. “Is splitting.”
“What?” he squawks again.
His hands go together then apart a few times. “Splitting. Like reproducing.”
“She said that?”
“Yeah.” Jensen turns back to Danneel, who’s staring and looking horrified at Jensen saying so much right there.
Jared clears his throat. “When exactly she say that?”
He looks caught for a second, looks at Danneel, a little guilty really, and then turns to Jared. “She, uh … ” and he just flicks a finger between their heads.
“Jensen,” she hushes at him.
Jared crosses his arms, standing firm but feeling so awkward right here. “You saying she's a mind reader?”
“Not quite. She also plants thoughts.” Jensen cringes when Danneel smacks his face with the file. “Jesus! Sorry!” He motions a hand at Jared. “The guy knows, okay? He saw them transform.”
His mouth drops and then his tongue works in his mouth and his eyes go quickly between the both of them. “You read minds?” Jared asks gently. “What? Like a psychic?”
No one says anything, and Jensen finally replies, quite uncomfortably. “Not quite.” Jared’s head pops forward with interest, waiting for him to say more. “She’s from Fuzine. They read minds.”
“Fuzine?”
“It’s the furthest state in the Royal Sky.”
Jared scoffs and crosses his arms. “What the hell is Royal Sky?”
Jensen looks uncomfortable, looking between Danneel and Jared, and wanting to answer more, but pegged by her harsh glares and the words screaming in his head to not say more about her background. “Another Milky Way.”
She groans and roughly pushes at Jensen’s arm.
“You read minds?” When Danneel faces Jared, he smirks and nods. “Okay, what’m I thinking now?”
She stares at Jared then uses the file to smack Jensen in the face again. He grumbles and holds her arm away but then he crabs at Jared. “Couldn’t think of something else?”
Jared shrugs with a blush while she complains to Jensen, “You should know better!”
Jensen leaves with Danneel to discuss things without Jared’s presence, and it takes longer than even Jared had figured it would, and he’s bored out of his mind for the time. So when Jensen returns and insists Jared stays put while he goes out to check on a lead, Jared disagrees.
To make his point, Jensen checks everything in his pockets, taking his time with the guns and eyeing Jared while he does it. “This isn’t the same thing as the teenagers kicking the crap out of you, okay?”
“I held up fine there,” Jared argues lamely.
Jensen points at his own forehead and gives a sarcastic glance. “Right. You’re a hundred percent.”
Jared touches the bandage at his hairline and frowns, but still says, “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. This isn’t a place for you to tag along.”
He moves closer with his face and voice showing that he’s listening and a bit concerned with the situation. “What’s going on?”
Jensen sighs, tucking his second gun back into his jacket. He rights his clothing and buttons the suit closed before he can give Jared a settled look. His voice is mechanical like he’d been in the beginning of knowing each other. “The purple globe gave us the coordinates and specs for their trip.”
“That’s good right? You can get that Zorbet thing, or whatever?”
He’s chuckling and shaking his head. “It’s not a thing. Zorbet’s High Commander of Lutron. A few months ago he sent a carriage to test landing points, and we intercepted them with inside intel. But the second carriage, early this week, we didn’t spot it. We thought there were just five kids this week. The two we trapped, plus the two tonight. And then just one more we were tracking. We thought they were all there was.”
With a rough swallow, Jared’s face drops. “And they’re not?”
“Oh, no,” he nods with a crabby smile. “They were. But they’ve already started splitting, and with one on the loose, it’s trouble.”
“Trouble like?”
“Like a hundred and one Dalmatians trouble. But a lot less cute.”
An eyebrow goes high on Jared’s head and he eyes Jensen. “Dalmatians?”
He shrugs, “You work in a pet shop. Thought it was a good analogy.”
Jared chuckles, shaking his head. “So where’re all the pups at?”
“Clear across town, settling at a baseball diamond.” Jensen plants his hands on his hips and breaths deep. “Just … go home. Stay outta trouble, alright?”
It doesn’t really compute for Jared, so he just shrugs with his shoulders and his face. “Yeah, but don’t you need, like, backup or something?”
Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “You are not backup.” He turns towards the door, opening it and ready to step out. “I’ll … I’ll find you when it’s done.”
Suddenly, things feel tiny and warped in Jared’s mind, and he wonders what’ll happen when Jensen doesn’t need to keep track of him, or when Jared has no globes or information to hand over. He’s awkward and surprisingly insecure about this whole thing between him and Jensen. “When’s that?”
He hesitates, staring and barely moving except for his breathing. There’s a quick blink of his eyes and he seems to wake up then slip into Full Agent Mode when his shoulders straighten and he stands tall. “When it’s over.”
*
He’s almost not surprised that on his walk back to his apartment, he’s being followed. Again. And he’s really not surprised that no matter how many turns he takes, he can’t shake the kid, even when he breaks out into a sprint and takes dark alleys, side streets, busy intersections. The kid’s right behind him all the way and eventually grabs tight to the back of his shirt, yanking him with enough strength to slam Jared into a wall and effectively knock him out.
When he wakes, he’s staring up to the dark sky and lying on an uneven surface. He blinks quite a few times to get clear sight, and when he stands, it’s unsteady as his feet are slipping amongst garbage and he realizes he’s been deposited in a dumpster, and it makes him moan with complaint at just how much crap he’s been through - now literally - since he stole those stupid oranges. He climbs out, trying so hard to ignore the pain in his head from the unfortunate collision he had with that brick wall. Though he’s happy to find there’s no blood - fresh or otherwise. But he’s terribly unhappy at figuring out that the dumpster he’d been so kindly placed in is at the corner of the baseball field where the whole Masters of the Universe Battle Royale is taking place. Surprising him more is out how numbered the agents are. About twenty to … yeah, a hundred, like Jared had thought Jensen was joking. But he sees that it was quite accurate.
The aliens are transforming from young human shapes into neon-colored blobs, and while it seems like that would leave them open to injury and death, it actually just elevates the whole fight. Not only are they growing taller than the human form, but their strength is increased tenfold. Jared watches as they toss agent after agent clear across the field. There are red bursts of light, shooting from different edges of the park, from behind trees, bleachers, wherever. Some peg aliens, and those unfortunate victims willow down to gel, spreading into wide, colorful pools that the agents slip through as they try to get closer to other aliens.
Jared hauls himself up and out of the dumpster then mentally stutters through the whole show, trying to find a place to run away, but every path he seeks will leave him out in the open. Instead, he settles behind the dumpster and watches from there, waiting for a bit of it to die down before making a break, because this is absolutely the worst thing he’s ever been involved with. Even if it brought Jensen into his pet shop, and even if the kissing is freaking awesome, and the guy seems to actually like him back, this is seriously the worst shit Jared’s ever been in.
The alien numbers are dwindling, but some agents are falling, too. Not dead, so much, but just out of it … unconscious, injured beyond ability to fight back, weaponless. He frowns and really wishes he had a point in this fight, to help out even if it was just to call Jensen’s office and get backup. Then he laughs at himself. He said he could serve as backup, and here he is, hiding behind a giant garbage receptacle and watching a fruitless battle.
It’s through this pessimistic train of thought that he feels a tap at his shoulder and when he turns, there stands the kid again. He whines, because he really wants to know who signed him up for all this. Jared sighs with a muttered, “Oh, no, man,” before a tight fist blasts beneath his chin. The force shoots him a good fifty or so feet into the air then he crushes back to the grass. His whole body tingles from the impact and some of the earth, being relatively soft, thankfully, is disturbed by his body, enough so that there’s a ring of dirt surrounding him.
He tries to lift his head because the rest of his body is failing him in the moment, but then the kid is standing above him, smirking and turning his hands into each other before leaning down to grab Jared by the edges of his open shirt.
“Come on,” he complains. “Why me?”
The kid chuckles and just heaves Jared up, holding him a few inches above the ground. “Where’s the glubis?”
He sighs wearily, “The what?”
“You stole it from Timble.”
Jared sighs and his body sags, only being kept upright by the kid’s hands in this shirt. “Dude, I don’t know no Timble.”
The kid swings Jared, wrapping his arm around Jared’s neck and squeezing tightly, blocking any air from entering his lungs or blood from reaching his brain. He’s quickly feeling lightheaded and makes tiny gasping noises. “Where’s your agent friend,” the kid says tightly at Jared’s ear as he drags him across the field and checks out each agent on the ground.
It’s not working, but Jared at least feels like he’s doing something when he swings his long arms up and behind him to smack the kid in the head. The arm loosens enough to allow Jared to breathe, but it’s still extremely tight and not letting him go. He coughs out a pathetic, “I don’t know where he is.”
“I want my glubis,” he grunts at Jared’s ear again.
“I ain’t got it.”
The arm tightens again, crushing Jared’s windpipe. There’s a smirk in his voice, “Wrong answer.”
There’s no point, he figures, in whining or fighting or arguing. So he just closes his eyes and waits for darkness, but he suddenly drops to the ground, the sound a quick flame eating up the space around him. When he smacks the earth, his eyes open and the kid is on the ground, and footsteps close on him quickly. Jared raises an arm for protection, but it’s grabbed instantly and he’s hauled to his feet. “What the hell,” Jensen grunts as he tugs Jared across the grass, leading him to the food stand beside the baseball diamond. They settle behind the structure, hiding for the moment, seated on the ground. “What,” he asks forcefully, “are you doing?”
Jared reaches to his shoulder, rubbing where the pain just won’t stop shooting beneath the skin. He grumbles, “Right, like I wanted an invite to your crazy Lutron party.”
For the moment, Jensen’s distracted with checking his weapons, but then he glances at Jared and sees the wincing and hears the slight groans. He tucks them both back into his jacket and crouches next to Jared. “You okay?” he asks, hands going to Jared’s neck and pressing lightly.
He hisses in return and shifts away. “No, not really.”
Jensen grabs Jared’s face tightly and gives him the angriest glare possible. “What are you doing here?”
With a slight whimper, Jared replies, “That guy attacked me and dragged me here.”
His hands loosen up, but stay. “Zorbet?”
Jared’s eyes widen to saucers and his heart launches to a million beats a second. “That’s the guy?”
The hands at Jared’s face tug for attention and Jensen’s voice is quick. “Jared, what does he want? Why’s he here?” Jared shakes his head and Jensen tries again, his voice getting even more panicky. “Why’d he go after you?”
“Because I have a freaking target on my back? I don’t know.” He sighs then quickly adds, “I “think the kid wants his toy back.”
“Toy?”
“He said glubis?” Jared rubs at his throat, reminded of how tight the kid had been choking him. “The globe, maybe?”
Without another word, Jensen shoots up, yanking guns from his jacket and aiming out into the space on the other side of the food hut. Jared shifts to watch him leave then he curses, not sure what the hell to do, other than stay put. But that scares Jared, too, because that kid found him behind the dumpster, and he’d for sure find … “Not getting away that easy.”
Jared looks up and doesn’t even have time to complain about being found, instead he jumps to his feet and races around the edge of the structure and clear across the field. The kid’s chasing, keeping up, and just as he’s about to jump at Jared, well, Jared trips. He’s not even sure what on, but he tumbles to the ground, rolling over and trying to get back to his feet, but then the shadow looms close and the kid has instantly morphed into a fat, ten-foot tall blob. The slimy arms reach out for Jared, shoving with enough power to shoot him clear across the ground, rolling over the entire field and feeling the burn on his lower back with the shirt riding up, and all across his forearms and face.
One more roll and Jared’s looking up to the sky, coughing up the red dust of the baseball field and wincing with all the pain. His head falls back to the ground when the blob stands over him, leaning close and ready to shove him back across the earth.
“Hey, Jell-O Jiggler!” he hears Jensen call out.
The blob freezes and then there’s a burst of red light, a half-dozen zings, and a giant pop as the blob explodes and all the gel dumps right on Jared.
He’s silent and motionless, just trying to ignore all the pink, cold goo soaking into his clothes, his hair, slipping into his ears. His breathing is pretty steady considering, and the only thing he finally manages to control are his fingers, which reach out then back in, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Because this is the fucking grossest thing he’s ever dealt with. And considering he’d just gotten over the idea of alien fetus in his orange, just two seconds from being in his mouth and actually burning up his hands … it really says something for how disgusting this moment truly is.
Jensen appears over him, a slightly satisfied smile on his face. “Got Zorbet.”
Jared blinks. “I see that.”
“You okay?”
A deep breath almost settles him. Jared says airily, “You know, you keep asking that, and it just keeps getting worse for me.”
Crouching beside Jared, he carefully reaches forward with a hand pushing some of the goop off Jared’s forehead, off his cheeks, and then his chin. The corner of his mouth picks up. “Just an FYI. Adult alien is not even half as dangerous as the fetus.”
“Awesome.”
While Jensen smirks harder and shoves more of the sludge through Jared’s hair, down and off his neck, over his arms, Jared smarts off, “Don’t you have a resistance to fight off.”
Jensen shifts from his crouch and looks across the field, spotting about a hundred other puddles of neon liquid and some of his fellow agents taking care of the incident. He turns back to Jared. “We’re good.”
Jared pushes himself up to sit before rolling to his side and slowly rising to his feet. “Well, I’m glad y’all are good.” When he stands and stretches with pain and kinks, he gripes, “This has all been fantastic for me, in case you were wondering.” The muscles are tense and the bones ache, but Jared’s pretty surprised that his entire skeleton hasn’t turned to jelly. Jensen’s jacket comes off quickly and he begins to wipe Jared down before Jared can snatch it away and gripe, “Think I can handle this myself.”
A hand wipes at his back as Jensen leads him away from the field, still smiling at the whole thing. When they’re at the car, he holds the passenger side door open and just grins. Jared wants to grumble back, but the grin reaches Jensen’s eyes and there’re tiny crinkles at the corners, and he wants to just kiss the guy. But not when Jensen mocks him with, “You’re really great at this backup thing, you know.”
“Oh, shut up,” Jared groans anyway, launching himself into the seat and biting down his smile. Jensen settles into the driver’s seat and Jared watches him. “How’m not dead?”
Jensen looks over oddly. “Huh?”
He motions back to the field, looking and sounding confused. “That kid tossed me around the whole place.”
“Yeah?”
Jared leans a little closer with an odd voice to make his point. “Didn’t break my neck. Or my back. Ribs didn’t fracture and pierce my heart.”
Busying himself with putting the key in the ignition and turning the car on, Jensen answers a bit distractedly. “They’d pierce your lung first. And then you’d die of internal bleeding.”
“Thanks for the anatomy lesson,” Jared replies in a flat tone.
Jensen looks over, carefully regarding Jared, like he doesn’t want to really answer. They stare for a few, long moments, until he finally lets out uneasily, “TN-93 isn’t really for infection.”
His eyebrows crinkle together as he stares right back. “What is it?”
Jensen shrugs. “I mean, it does fight infection, but it’s mostly for protection.”
“From what?”
Another shrug, but then he motions out past Jared. “This. This kind of fight and danger.”
“But,” and Jared stalls, looking out his window to the twenty or so agents taking care of the scene and how they’re all moving quite ably, when just minutes before, half of them looked like they were suffering from extreme internal injuries.
“It’s … hard to explain. But there’s this thing with fortifying your bones. Creating extra layers of epidermis …”
Jared eyes Jensen, and just breathes, unable to really formulate words at this time. It really is just the craziest thing in the world to comprehend. A pill created extra layers within and around his body, keeping him from major harm, and letting him survive this fight.
The car’s leaving the field, heading into the barely-breaking dawn, and Jared breathes out a tiny sigh. A few minutes pass and he glances over to Jensen, who’s watching what little traffic there is, pressing his head back into the headrest and gripping the wheel.
“Thanks,” Jared says gently. “For … the drugs and all that?” he adds with a question in his voice, because it seems strange to thank him for that. But it obviously saved his life.
Jensen’s head lolls over and watches Jared for a few seconds before turning forward. He smiles a tiny bit as his hand reaches across the console and creeps into Jared’s, fingers spreading between his and folding down. “Welcome.
Jared smirks as he looks back out his window and he replays all that’s happened over the last few days, but just one thing really stands out. He nods a little while squeezing Jensen’s hand, and Jensen squeezes in return. Fucking awesome he grins to himself.