The Third Third 5/10+
Title: The Third Third 5/10+
Author: insane_songbird
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Words: ~4.400
Warnings: Violence (Hello, it’s Ice Hockey!), Language, NC17 later-on (that means sex, people!)
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad... It’s a lie, all of it.
Summary: Being a Texas boy Jared Padalecki couldn’t care less about ice hockey. So Jared is slightly lost, when his new roommate Chad is the biggest fan on campus. But when he gets to tutor the most infamous player of the college team, things start to get downright scary. Jensen Ackles has a reputation for aggression control problems and Jared has no idea how to get through the semester without either falling for the handsome man or ending up in a fistfight he’d be sure to lose.
Master Post
Okay, again thanks to mangacat201 , who bears the madness life and in color, to candygramme who is the most amazing beta, not complaining even when the page is nothing but RED, as well as magikalrhiannon , my hockey-beta - yes there is such a thing and it's very important! And of course all love to envious_ema as always!
Also thanks to all the readers, who flood me with comments. I luv ya, keep it up!
previous part
Part Five
Wilson was pulled back by his shocked teammates while everyone else looked or hurried towards Jensen. For a few seconds he did not move a muscle. But as the fallen man’s hand moved to his head, and he fumbled for a long moment before pushing off his helmet - if Jared wasn’t mistaken the fiber-glass of the helmet had split in half in the back - the masses left out a roar of relief. Jensen was still lying on the ice though, his messed-up helmet next to him, looking shocked and dazed. Still,the fact that he was actually conscious and seemed to be in control of his limbs allowed Jared to blow out the breath that had stuck in his throat as the whole madness had occurred.
Jared felt his heartbeat double its pace as Chris and the coach kept Jensen from sitting up, pressing his shoulders to the ice until a paramedic had hurried over bringing a neck-brace and fixing it under Jensen’s chin. The fallen player seemed to be talking, obviously finding this measure of care unnecessary, but the men around him would have none of it. Jared watched as they heaved him carefully onto a gurney and rolled him out. Once they were out of sight, Jared stared back at the broken helmet and saw a smear of red on the cold white of the ice. Oh god. He felt like fainting.
Up until this moment Jared had told himself that there was nothing wrong with Jensen but the shock of being attacked with a goddamn hockey stick. He had convinced himself that the helmet was the only thing that had been broken by the onslaught. Now there was a red blotch telling him just how naïve he had been.
Jensen could easily have died tonight. Had the stick hit his neck instead of his head, or had his helmet not been strapped on right… or, by god, had he turned around and the stick had hit his face instead of the helmet... Jared felt his stomach turn, and he flopped down on his seat in the ranks as his knees gave out.
He felt Chad sitting down next to him. The game was over. They'd won. Since one of their players had nearly been killed in an assault by one of their opponents the game had been stopped, and they were the winners. Jared couldn’t think of any victory tasting more bitter and foul. Outside Jared could hear sirens. Yes, he definitely thought that this was beyond a referee’s job-description.
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Jensen heard the huge machine hum and buzz around him. As soon as they'd got him in the ambulance, someone had pushed a needle into his arm, and then things got calmer inside his spinning mind.
By now he had been asked to wiggle his toes, follow that finger, tell them if he felt that, and all the other neurological tests you see on t.v. plus some extras. After they had stitched up the cut on the back of his head where a splinter of wood had ripped through and then stuck in, this was the only thing left for them to do.
The MRI (or was it CT?) was vibrating around him, and the hum and buzz of the machine would probably have sent him squirrelly - especially since his head and neck were fixed by a support frame, so he wouldn’t start wiggling around and ruin the pictures - were he not still on the anti-anxiety drugs they had given him during transport.
When the rumbling that enveloped Jensen finally stopped, he was pulled out of the dark tunnel. The doctors had decided that there were no spinal injuries, and he could take off the neck-brace if he felt the need to. His muscles had been strained by the whiplash trauma, and they thought that Jensen would probably prefer to keep it on during the first few days to ease the pain. He'd also been diagnosed with a concussion, which explained his nausea as the drug haze left him.
A nurse wheeled him into a room. He had to stay at least one or two nights for surveillance. The minute the nurse left him there was a knock on the door, followed by Jensen’s coach slipping in and closing it silently behind him. Jeffrey Morgan looked at his young charge with concerned eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Jensen wanted to nod, but the sting in the back of his neck, and the spinning feeling behind his eyes made him abandon the idea. “I’m fine. Just a concussion and a few stitches.”
“You were lucky.” Jeffrey had his hands shoved into the pockets of his sports jacket.
“Yeah, I guess.” Jensen fixed his coach with a long look. “Did you keep your promise, Jeffrey?” When Jensen was taken to the ambulance Jensen had asked him not to call his parents, or worse, his brother. He knew they would catch the next plane and come to see him, but he didn’t want them to worry. He hadn't been hurt worse than after some rough games in the past and disturbing his family’s peace without a single broken bone seemed wrong.
The older man nodded solemnly. “I did. But I can’t promise that Chris didn’t call your little sister… The police are outside. They want to take your statement when you feel up to it.”
Jensen looked at his hands resting on top of the blankets. “I don’t wanna talk to them.”
Jeffrey stepped closer. “Jensen, you need to make a statement to file charges.”
“I don’t wanna file charges.” Jensen looked up to see Jeff’s jaw set. He knew the other man would not let it go easily, but Jensen really didn’t want to deal with the police.
“He could have killed you, Jen. If that stick had hit you only a few inches lower…”
“I KNOW, Jeff.” Jensen felt his temper rise, and his teeth grinding against each other, causing the nauseating swirl behind his eyes to break into a painful spin that made him close his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“I don’t get you, boy.” Jeffrey shook his head and sat down on the edge of Jensen’s bed.
Jensen shrugged, and, yes, it hurt. “He'll probably never play hockey again, so what good would it do?”
Jeffrey laughed, and Jensen couldn’t look at him, because there was no humor in it. “Kid, there'll be nothing but a slap on the guy’s wrist. He’ll be off the team but there won’t be any legal aftermath. You will file charges.”
The last had been an order, and Jensen had never disobeyed his coach's orders, but today was different.
“And if I don’t?”
The older man huffed and stood back up. “If you don’t, then you’ll never play on my team again.”
Jensen’s head turned fast, driven by shock. The sting that shot up his neck muscles and right into the base of his skull made his stomach clench, and he hissed. It took Jensen a moment to focus his eyes on Jeffrey. “You can’t do that, Jeff. I’ll lose my scholarship if I can't play. You can’t do that to me.”
The determined expression on his coach's face was set in stone and Jensen felt his stomach drop. “There is only one thing that I can't do, Jensen, and that would be watching you die out there. If this guy is let off the hook with nothing more than the referee’s penalty, it’s an open invitation for all the other dicks out there. I can't guarantee what'll happen then, and I sure as hell can't guarantee your safety any more, kid. I will not have that.”
Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm down the feeling that was trying to force its way out of his eyes again, biting his lip until he tasted blood. “I can't talk to them, Jeffrey.”
“Why the fuck not?” Jeffrey’s voice had risen in volume, and Jensen cringed away from it.
“Because they'll ask me what he said, and they... they'll ask me what I said… and then…” Jensen hesitated for a moment, his fingers pulling on the corner of his blanket. “Then they won’t care any more, and I don’t think I could take it, Jeff, so why go through all that trouble?”
Jeffrey was silent for a moment before he sat down on the corner of Jensen’s bed once more, his hand coming to rest on Jensen’s shoulder. “Is that really what you think? That the police won’t go after him when they know that a gay man told him to suck his cock, before he got bashed with a hockey stick?”
Jensen nodded, a tear rolling out of his eyes, and he hated the fact that he always had to cry when Jeffrey was around. He felt like a little boy again.
The older man’s hand squeezed his shoulder supportively, and Jensen couldn’t help himself any more. He put his hand over his eyes, hiding the tears that found their way out between his lashes and choked down a sob. He found himself pulled into an embrace by his coach, resting against the older man’s chest, while a strong hand smoothed over his hair. Jeff let him cry, tears soaking into the man’s shirt, and sobs shaking the young man in his arms.
When Jensen had calmed down at last, Jeffrey gabbed his shoulders with both hands and pulled away far enough to look at the heap of misery that sat on the bed before him. “Jensen, listen to me carefully.” The young man nodded, sniffing, but his eyes were drying already. “You will talk to the police. You will give a statement, and you will file charges. I think you are expecting too little from them… but if they really try to let Wilson off the hook, because it was ‘just’ some gay-bashing, I will personally wreak havoc in the police station. If I need to go to the commissioner himself, I don’t fucking care. Do you understand, Jensen?”
Jensen nodded. There were times when he really didn’t understand why Jeffrey cared that much, but he never even once wanted it to change.
Jensen was back in classes on Wednesday. The day after the game the gossip was already running high, and Jared felt his stomach churn at the mention of whiplash, trauma and concussion. But his breath eased when every version of the story ended with Jensen not having sustained any permanent damage, and that, in a matter of weeks, the man should be back to his former glory. There was no mention of the blood Jared had seen on the ice, but he was sure it had been there.
The one thing that really disturbed him was the talk about how this whole incident had come to pass. Word had it that Jensen had accused the other player of being a fag and told him to suck his cock. It made Jared’s stomach turn, and he felt sick, unable to swallow any more of his lunch. Chad told him that it seemed to be Jensen’s trademark answer to any verbal attack.
Now it was official. Jared was in hell. Maybe Jensen didn't deserve to be attacked like that, no matter how malicious his words had been, but the implications of Jensen’s words were enough to rob Jared of his sleep. Jensen hated homosexuals. To him it was the worst of insults, and he used it with gusto.
At night when Jared lay in bed, he stared at the dark ceiling and blinked away tears of frustration and anger. How dare he? Jared asked himself. He had no right to defame other people’s life choices - even though for Jared it had never been a choice - like that? There were few things that Jared could not tolerate. One of those things was the word “fag,” and Jensen seemed to use it bigtime.
Where Jared had been scared of the possibility of homophobia in the other man before, he was now enraged by the proof of it. He didn’t know how he could get through any more tutoring sessions with Jensen. He might either run away screaming, or he would actually let out his rage and pick a fight, ending up as a bloody blotch on the wall.
When Jensen could be seen between classes, he was usually flanked by Chris and another man, who Jared thought must be Steve Carlson.They were probably there to save him from the onslaught of fan-girls who wanted to shock their parents by dating a real bad-ass and wanted to ask Jensen to show them his scars. He was still wearing a neck-brace on Wednesday, but when Jared entered the study on Friday the collar was gone, and the only thing to hint at the incident that had happened less than a week ago was Jensen’s rigid posture, and the fact that he would turn his whole body to look at Jared instead of just turning his head.
“Hey”, was the only thing Jared could think of saying. His book bag hit the top of the desk, but he didn’t sit down. Jensen was standing by the window, and Jared would not sit before Jensen did and lose the advantage of his height. He knew that was ridiculous, rather childish actually, especially since Jensen could probably take Jared on whether he was standing up or sitting down.
“Hey.”
Jared took a deep breath when he realized that it was going to be one of Jensen’s not-talking-much days.
“How’s the head?”
The other man shrugged and thankfully walked over to the table, sitting in his usual chair. “Sore.”
Jared nodded and took his own seat. “I guess you didn’t do the essays then?” He thought that would be the easiest way to keep a fight from bubbling up. If he gave Jensen the impression he did not expect the work to be done, it was probably for the best. But once more Jared was surprised when Jensen pulled a stack of papers from his bag and laid them smoothly on the table.
“I guess I did”, Jensen said in a slightly too calm voice.
Jared nodded his acknowledgment before diving into this session’s topic. He talked for nearly an hour, and Jensen didn’t even look at him this time but kept staring at his hands. In between sentences, Jared pondered whether the other man might actually be asleep with his eyes open. When Jared was done with his lecture, he let out an irritated sigh and followed his impulse to snap his fingers before Jensen’s face. As an afterthought he slapped himself mentally for doing something like that, but then again Jensen’s behavior had asked for it.
Green eyes snapped to his face with an irritated look.
“Look, Jensen, I know that you probably still have a concussion and all, and that’s the only reason why I'll let your mental absence slide for today. But next week I expect you to at least listen to what I say if you have to do the silent warrior routine again, or else this is just a huge waste of my time.”
Sometimes Jared wondered where his huge pair of balls came from when Jensen strained his nerves. With all the panicked fear and dread that seethed inside Jared whenever he thought about this scary man, it was a real miracle that he had the guts to talk to Jensen this way - and an even bigger one, that Jensen hadn’t skinned him alive, yet.
“I waste your time, huh?” Jensen gave him a deadpanned stare. “Did you even SEE the game?”
Jared snorted at all that arrogance and crossed his arms. “Yes, Jensen. I saw the game. I even saw the blood on the ice. But you know what? I also heard why the guy slugged you… I mean it was a really bad move on his part. But it wasn’t completely uncalled for.”
Jensen stared at him with his mouth agape for a moment. “What?” His voice was but a whisper. “What did you hear, Jared? What did I say to deserve it?”
Jared took a deep breath. There was no backing out now, and he knew that. “You called him a fag and told him to suck your cock, right?”
Jensen’s jaw set in a tight line. “Yes, and?”
Jared’s laugh was anything but humorous. “AND? God, you’re a dick, Jensen.”
The other man let out a snort and stood up, Jared mirroring him. He wouldn’t be caught off guard. If there was going to be a fight, Jared would stand up for himself.
“I thought YOU of all people might understand, Jared.” Jensen’s words were low and tinged with bitterness and cold. So this was Jensen’s real face, Jared thought.
“Yes, Jensen. I know EXACTLY what you meant, and it makes me SICK!”
“Fuck you, Jared! You don’t know me…”
“I don’t want to!” Jared shook his head, anger spreading through him. “You know what? I don’t want to spend any more time with an asshole like you!” Jared bit his tongue before he could spit in Jensen’s face and call him the homophobe he was. “Our lessons are OVER. You never wanted tutoring in the first place. Why don’t you just write a goddamn essay about the rest of the chapters, and I'll tell Kripke that you're ready to take that fucking exam. We’d both be happier!”
“Fuck you!” Jensen grabbed his bag and pushed his chair over in the progress. He stormed towards the door and turned to Jared. “You’ll get your fucking essays… God, will I be happy if I don’t have to look at your goddamn face all the time.
The door slammed behind Jensen, and Jared felt his knees give out. He hit the chair hard and felt himself hyperventilate. He thanked all gods he could possibly think off that Jensen had obviously been still too hurt to remodel Jared’s face with his knuckles.
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Jensen chewed on his nails until there was nothing left to bite on. By that time, Chris had come back early from a Friday evening out with some of the guys (that meant mainly Steve and Tom.) Before the door clicked closed again his best friend knew that something was very wrong. Jensen didn’t even try to hide the fact anymore. He was just tired of it. Why did everything just have to be so hard lately? In his previous years in Massachusetts he'd lived the same life, had the same friends and the very same problems. The only thing that had changed this year was Jared. How could a single person, someone he only saw for one hour once a week, make everything that much harder?
It was just unfair. Jared should not have that much control over Jensen’s life, over his feelings, but apparently he did, and Jensen hated him for it. But that was part of the problem, right? Jensen hated Jared, but at the same time he had fallen hard for the other man. It didn’t matter that Jared was a dick to him half the time, because the other half he was just so awesome Jensen couldn’t keep his eyes of him.
For a while Jensen pondered if he maybe should see a shrink, because this whole masochistic falling in love with the one person who hates you to your face instead of hating you behind your back thing must be proof that there was something seriously wrong with him.
“What’s wrong, Jensen?” Chris looked at him, more sober and serious than he should be allowed to be on a Friday night.
Jensen’s eyes flicked up before he stared at his gnawed off nails. “Me.”
His friend frowned, and he sat down next to Jensen, his eyes following Jensen’s gaze as his frown deepened. Jensen was usually not one to gnaw his fingernails.
“D’you wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” Jensen pulled his legs up onto the bed and rested his chin on his knees, arms hugging his shins.
Chris nodded and slung his arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t have left you alone that long so early, huh?”
Jensen huffed and shook his head. “No. That’s not it. You being here wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Really? You’re sure there’s nothing I could have done?” Chris pulled back a little, looking at him.
Jensen gave him a weak smile. “Not unless you think it a good idea to kill Jared…”
Chris’ eyebrows rose. “Uhuh?” Chris went rigid next to him, and Jensen closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry.”
“So you didn't hurt him?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly is this all about?”
Jensen shrugged. “Just me being stupid.”
“How so?”
Jensen ducked his head and gave Chris the abridged version of his argument with Jared, how the man hated his guts, and had told him to get out of his sight.
Chris sat there for a moment.
“I might have to sleep on that ‘not killing Jared’ thing…”
“Don’t, Chris.”
“Well, if the dick wasn’t interested or anything, he could have made that clear in many ways that did not include the sentence, ‘you make me sick’.” Chris fumed but kept his voice to a low growl instead of an angry scream, and Jensen was thankful for that. “I mean that fucking hypocrite doesn’t know anything about you!”
“I know. I told him so.”
“And?”
“And he said he didn’t want to, and that as a matter of fact he didn’t want to meet with me ever again.”
“That settles it. I’m gonna tear that fucker a new one…”
If Jensen had ever had doubts, this evening would have erased them. Chris really was his best friend in the world. Especially when he called Jensen’s sister and made her listen to his boy-troubles for hours when Chris’ inner straight boy hit his borders.
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When Jared took his seat next to Chad at lunch, he couldn’t help looking at Jensen for a long time. He sat, as always lately, huddled between Chris and Steve, Tom across from them.
Chad leaned into Jared’s personal space, while he followed the taller man’s gaze. “You know that Tom is my lab-partner right? He told me that Jensen was on the phone with his little sister every night for the last two weeks… Boy-trouble.”
Jared shrugged. So Jensen’s sister had boy-trouble.
“I mean it must be pretty heavy to phone her all the time, what with the time difference and all…”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s Texas not Belize.”
Chad chuckles. “Jared, you never listen when I’m talking gossip, do you?” Jared shrugged, knowing that he didn’t. “Jensen’s family lives in Spain.”
“Spain?”
“Yeah, that’s why they weren’t here when Jensen was in the hospital. Tom said that he didn’t want them to come, but you know what I think? I think that’s exactly what I’d tell my friends if my parents didn’t show up when I was hurt.”
Jared frowned, processing the information and putting one more piece to the painful puzzle he found Jensen to be. So the other man came from an obviously anything but poor background, his family cruising Europe at the moment, too busy to visit when he was injured. That explained a lot of things. It was classic, kinda like in one of those cheesy teenage movies. The rich kid that got his parents attention only in the form of money, acting out, getting aggressive, being the bad kid.
The stroke of sympathy that tried to latch onto Jared’s conscience was squashed by the memory of hateful words.
Jared was silent for the rest of lunch. He hadn’t told his friends everything that had gone down in this little private war between him and Jensen. They only knew that they didn’t get along well, that Jensen thought he was a geeky idiot, and that they'd come to an agreement to skip personal sessions in favor of essays about the topics. Jared hadn’t mentioned the fights they'd had, nor that Jensen had been gunning for Jared, because he was gay. What good would it be? They might fret over him and make him feel more miserable with their pity. They might share ideas about what kind of wood to order for his coffin, and that definitely would not be helping.
Jared managed to stay clear of Jensen, who didn’t even look at him when they passed each other in the hall, but the looks Chris Kane kept giving Jared were frightening. It meant that this was not a private matter anymore. Jensen had talked to Chris, and it made Jared’s stomach clench in fear. How many more jocks were out on the hunt for Jared, the gay piñata?
When Jared left the library late one evening he saw Chris standing across the corridor and turned to the opposite direction. It was actually completely the wrong turn and led him away from his dorm, but he didn’t care as long as he got away from Kane and his mean stare.
“Wait!”
Jared ducked his head and sped up his steps. A hand clenched down on his shoulder and Jared spun around. “What?” He decided to go for his old tactics, the one that had already worked back in high school. Jared straightened up and gave Chris his best death glare, his voice as steady as his body could manage with his heart thundering at double its normal speed.
“We need to talk.” Chris took a step back, leaving Jared’s personal space.
“I wouldn’t have thought that there was anything we had to talk about.”
“Really?” The other man raised his eyebrows in a mocking gesture, and Jared felt sweat running down the back of his neck. He needed to get away as fast as possible. “Jensen might not agree with you there.”
“I don’t give a shit. You and Jensen go straight to hell and stay the fuck out of my business.”
Jared shoved by Chris and took off down the corridor, hoping that his fighting back had surprised Kane long enough to get his ass to safety.
Thankfully the other man did not follow.
…next part…
FEEDBACK equals love, people. Everything is allowed in love and war... so you better leave me some comments, yeah?
Author: insane_songbird
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Words: ~4.400
Warnings: Violence (Hello, it’s Ice Hockey!), Language, NC17 later-on (that means sex, people!)
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad... It’s a lie, all of it.
Summary: Being a Texas boy Jared Padalecki couldn’t care less about ice hockey. So Jared is slightly lost, when his new roommate Chad is the biggest fan on campus. But when he gets to tutor the most infamous player of the college team, things start to get downright scary. Jensen Ackles has a reputation for aggression control problems and Jared has no idea how to get through the semester without either falling for the handsome man or ending up in a fistfight he’d be sure to lose.
Master Post
Okay, again thanks to mangacat201 , who bears the madness life and in color, to candygramme who is the most amazing beta, not complaining even when the page is nothing but RED, as well as magikalrhiannon , my hockey-beta - yes there is such a thing and it's very important! And of course all love to envious_ema as always!
Also thanks to all the readers, who flood me with comments. I luv ya, keep it up!
previous part
Part Five
Wilson was pulled back by his shocked teammates while everyone else looked or hurried towards Jensen. For a few seconds he did not move a muscle. But as the fallen man’s hand moved to his head, and he fumbled for a long moment before pushing off his helmet - if Jared wasn’t mistaken the fiber-glass of the helmet had split in half in the back - the masses left out a roar of relief. Jensen was still lying on the ice though, his messed-up helmet next to him, looking shocked and dazed. Still,the fact that he was actually conscious and seemed to be in control of his limbs allowed Jared to blow out the breath that had stuck in his throat as the whole madness had occurred.
Jared felt his heartbeat double its pace as Chris and the coach kept Jensen from sitting up, pressing his shoulders to the ice until a paramedic had hurried over bringing a neck-brace and fixing it under Jensen’s chin. The fallen player seemed to be talking, obviously finding this measure of care unnecessary, but the men around him would have none of it. Jared watched as they heaved him carefully onto a gurney and rolled him out. Once they were out of sight, Jared stared back at the broken helmet and saw a smear of red on the cold white of the ice. Oh god. He felt like fainting.
Up until this moment Jared had told himself that there was nothing wrong with Jensen but the shock of being attacked with a goddamn hockey stick. He had convinced himself that the helmet was the only thing that had been broken by the onslaught. Now there was a red blotch telling him just how naïve he had been.
Jensen could easily have died tonight. Had the stick hit his neck instead of his head, or had his helmet not been strapped on right… or, by god, had he turned around and the stick had hit his face instead of the helmet... Jared felt his stomach turn, and he flopped down on his seat in the ranks as his knees gave out.
He felt Chad sitting down next to him. The game was over. They'd won. Since one of their players had nearly been killed in an assault by one of their opponents the game had been stopped, and they were the winners. Jared couldn’t think of any victory tasting more bitter and foul. Outside Jared could hear sirens. Yes, he definitely thought that this was beyond a referee’s job-description.
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Jensen heard the huge machine hum and buzz around him. As soon as they'd got him in the ambulance, someone had pushed a needle into his arm, and then things got calmer inside his spinning mind.
By now he had been asked to wiggle his toes, follow that finger, tell them if he felt that, and all the other neurological tests you see on t.v. plus some extras. After they had stitched up the cut on the back of his head where a splinter of wood had ripped through and then stuck in, this was the only thing left for them to do.
The MRI (or was it CT?) was vibrating around him, and the hum and buzz of the machine would probably have sent him squirrelly - especially since his head and neck were fixed by a support frame, so he wouldn’t start wiggling around and ruin the pictures - were he not still on the anti-anxiety drugs they had given him during transport.
When the rumbling that enveloped Jensen finally stopped, he was pulled out of the dark tunnel. The doctors had decided that there were no spinal injuries, and he could take off the neck-brace if he felt the need to. His muscles had been strained by the whiplash trauma, and they thought that Jensen would probably prefer to keep it on during the first few days to ease the pain. He'd also been diagnosed with a concussion, which explained his nausea as the drug haze left him.
A nurse wheeled him into a room. He had to stay at least one or two nights for surveillance. The minute the nurse left him there was a knock on the door, followed by Jensen’s coach slipping in and closing it silently behind him. Jeffrey Morgan looked at his young charge with concerned eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Jensen wanted to nod, but the sting in the back of his neck, and the spinning feeling behind his eyes made him abandon the idea. “I’m fine. Just a concussion and a few stitches.”
“You were lucky.” Jeffrey had his hands shoved into the pockets of his sports jacket.
“Yeah, I guess.” Jensen fixed his coach with a long look. “Did you keep your promise, Jeffrey?” When Jensen was taken to the ambulance Jensen had asked him not to call his parents, or worse, his brother. He knew they would catch the next plane and come to see him, but he didn’t want them to worry. He hadn't been hurt worse than after some rough games in the past and disturbing his family’s peace without a single broken bone seemed wrong.
The older man nodded solemnly. “I did. But I can’t promise that Chris didn’t call your little sister… The police are outside. They want to take your statement when you feel up to it.”
Jensen looked at his hands resting on top of the blankets. “I don’t wanna talk to them.”
Jeffrey stepped closer. “Jensen, you need to make a statement to file charges.”
“I don’t wanna file charges.” Jensen looked up to see Jeff’s jaw set. He knew the other man would not let it go easily, but Jensen really didn’t want to deal with the police.
“He could have killed you, Jen. If that stick had hit you only a few inches lower…”
“I KNOW, Jeff.” Jensen felt his temper rise, and his teeth grinding against each other, causing the nauseating swirl behind his eyes to break into a painful spin that made him close his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“I don’t get you, boy.” Jeffrey shook his head and sat down on the edge of Jensen’s bed.
Jensen shrugged, and, yes, it hurt. “He'll probably never play hockey again, so what good would it do?”
Jeffrey laughed, and Jensen couldn’t look at him, because there was no humor in it. “Kid, there'll be nothing but a slap on the guy’s wrist. He’ll be off the team but there won’t be any legal aftermath. You will file charges.”
The last had been an order, and Jensen had never disobeyed his coach's orders, but today was different.
“And if I don’t?”
The older man huffed and stood back up. “If you don’t, then you’ll never play on my team again.”
Jensen’s head turned fast, driven by shock. The sting that shot up his neck muscles and right into the base of his skull made his stomach clench, and he hissed. It took Jensen a moment to focus his eyes on Jeffrey. “You can’t do that, Jeff. I’ll lose my scholarship if I can't play. You can’t do that to me.”
The determined expression on his coach's face was set in stone and Jensen felt his stomach drop. “There is only one thing that I can't do, Jensen, and that would be watching you die out there. If this guy is let off the hook with nothing more than the referee’s penalty, it’s an open invitation for all the other dicks out there. I can't guarantee what'll happen then, and I sure as hell can't guarantee your safety any more, kid. I will not have that.”
Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm down the feeling that was trying to force its way out of his eyes again, biting his lip until he tasted blood. “I can't talk to them, Jeffrey.”
“Why the fuck not?” Jeffrey’s voice had risen in volume, and Jensen cringed away from it.
“Because they'll ask me what he said, and they... they'll ask me what I said… and then…” Jensen hesitated for a moment, his fingers pulling on the corner of his blanket. “Then they won’t care any more, and I don’t think I could take it, Jeff, so why go through all that trouble?”
Jeffrey was silent for a moment before he sat down on the corner of Jensen’s bed once more, his hand coming to rest on Jensen’s shoulder. “Is that really what you think? That the police won’t go after him when they know that a gay man told him to suck his cock, before he got bashed with a hockey stick?”
Jensen nodded, a tear rolling out of his eyes, and he hated the fact that he always had to cry when Jeffrey was around. He felt like a little boy again.
The older man’s hand squeezed his shoulder supportively, and Jensen couldn’t help himself any more. He put his hand over his eyes, hiding the tears that found their way out between his lashes and choked down a sob. He found himself pulled into an embrace by his coach, resting against the older man’s chest, while a strong hand smoothed over his hair. Jeff let him cry, tears soaking into the man’s shirt, and sobs shaking the young man in his arms.
When Jensen had calmed down at last, Jeffrey gabbed his shoulders with both hands and pulled away far enough to look at the heap of misery that sat on the bed before him. “Jensen, listen to me carefully.” The young man nodded, sniffing, but his eyes were drying already. “You will talk to the police. You will give a statement, and you will file charges. I think you are expecting too little from them… but if they really try to let Wilson off the hook, because it was ‘just’ some gay-bashing, I will personally wreak havoc in the police station. If I need to go to the commissioner himself, I don’t fucking care. Do you understand, Jensen?”
Jensen nodded. There were times when he really didn’t understand why Jeffrey cared that much, but he never even once wanted it to change.
Jensen was back in classes on Wednesday. The day after the game the gossip was already running high, and Jared felt his stomach churn at the mention of whiplash, trauma and concussion. But his breath eased when every version of the story ended with Jensen not having sustained any permanent damage, and that, in a matter of weeks, the man should be back to his former glory. There was no mention of the blood Jared had seen on the ice, but he was sure it had been there.
The one thing that really disturbed him was the talk about how this whole incident had come to pass. Word had it that Jensen had accused the other player of being a fag and told him to suck his cock. It made Jared’s stomach turn, and he felt sick, unable to swallow any more of his lunch. Chad told him that it seemed to be Jensen’s trademark answer to any verbal attack.
Now it was official. Jared was in hell. Maybe Jensen didn't deserve to be attacked like that, no matter how malicious his words had been, but the implications of Jensen’s words were enough to rob Jared of his sleep. Jensen hated homosexuals. To him it was the worst of insults, and he used it with gusto.
At night when Jared lay in bed, he stared at the dark ceiling and blinked away tears of frustration and anger. How dare he? Jared asked himself. He had no right to defame other people’s life choices - even though for Jared it had never been a choice - like that? There were few things that Jared could not tolerate. One of those things was the word “fag,” and Jensen seemed to use it bigtime.
Where Jared had been scared of the possibility of homophobia in the other man before, he was now enraged by the proof of it. He didn’t know how he could get through any more tutoring sessions with Jensen. He might either run away screaming, or he would actually let out his rage and pick a fight, ending up as a bloody blotch on the wall.
When Jensen could be seen between classes, he was usually flanked by Chris and another man, who Jared thought must be Steve Carlson.They were probably there to save him from the onslaught of fan-girls who wanted to shock their parents by dating a real bad-ass and wanted to ask Jensen to show them his scars. He was still wearing a neck-brace on Wednesday, but when Jared entered the study on Friday the collar was gone, and the only thing to hint at the incident that had happened less than a week ago was Jensen’s rigid posture, and the fact that he would turn his whole body to look at Jared instead of just turning his head.
“Hey”, was the only thing Jared could think of saying. His book bag hit the top of the desk, but he didn’t sit down. Jensen was standing by the window, and Jared would not sit before Jensen did and lose the advantage of his height. He knew that was ridiculous, rather childish actually, especially since Jensen could probably take Jared on whether he was standing up or sitting down.
“Hey.”
Jared took a deep breath when he realized that it was going to be one of Jensen’s not-talking-much days.
“How’s the head?”
The other man shrugged and thankfully walked over to the table, sitting in his usual chair. “Sore.”
Jared nodded and took his own seat. “I guess you didn’t do the essays then?” He thought that would be the easiest way to keep a fight from bubbling up. If he gave Jensen the impression he did not expect the work to be done, it was probably for the best. But once more Jared was surprised when Jensen pulled a stack of papers from his bag and laid them smoothly on the table.
“I guess I did”, Jensen said in a slightly too calm voice.
Jared nodded his acknowledgment before diving into this session’s topic. He talked for nearly an hour, and Jensen didn’t even look at him this time but kept staring at his hands. In between sentences, Jared pondered whether the other man might actually be asleep with his eyes open. When Jared was done with his lecture, he let out an irritated sigh and followed his impulse to snap his fingers before Jensen’s face. As an afterthought he slapped himself mentally for doing something like that, but then again Jensen’s behavior had asked for it.
Green eyes snapped to his face with an irritated look.
“Look, Jensen, I know that you probably still have a concussion and all, and that’s the only reason why I'll let your mental absence slide for today. But next week I expect you to at least listen to what I say if you have to do the silent warrior routine again, or else this is just a huge waste of my time.”
Sometimes Jared wondered where his huge pair of balls came from when Jensen strained his nerves. With all the panicked fear and dread that seethed inside Jared whenever he thought about this scary man, it was a real miracle that he had the guts to talk to Jensen this way - and an even bigger one, that Jensen hadn’t skinned him alive, yet.
“I waste your time, huh?” Jensen gave him a deadpanned stare. “Did you even SEE the game?”
Jared snorted at all that arrogance and crossed his arms. “Yes, Jensen. I saw the game. I even saw the blood on the ice. But you know what? I also heard why the guy slugged you… I mean it was a really bad move on his part. But it wasn’t completely uncalled for.”
Jensen stared at him with his mouth agape for a moment. “What?” His voice was but a whisper. “What did you hear, Jared? What did I say to deserve it?”
Jared took a deep breath. There was no backing out now, and he knew that. “You called him a fag and told him to suck your cock, right?”
Jensen’s jaw set in a tight line. “Yes, and?”
Jared’s laugh was anything but humorous. “AND? God, you’re a dick, Jensen.”
The other man let out a snort and stood up, Jared mirroring him. He wouldn’t be caught off guard. If there was going to be a fight, Jared would stand up for himself.
“I thought YOU of all people might understand, Jared.” Jensen’s words were low and tinged with bitterness and cold. So this was Jensen’s real face, Jared thought.
“Yes, Jensen. I know EXACTLY what you meant, and it makes me SICK!”
“Fuck you, Jared! You don’t know me…”
“I don’t want to!” Jared shook his head, anger spreading through him. “You know what? I don’t want to spend any more time with an asshole like you!” Jared bit his tongue before he could spit in Jensen’s face and call him the homophobe he was. “Our lessons are OVER. You never wanted tutoring in the first place. Why don’t you just write a goddamn essay about the rest of the chapters, and I'll tell Kripke that you're ready to take that fucking exam. We’d both be happier!”
“Fuck you!” Jensen grabbed his bag and pushed his chair over in the progress. He stormed towards the door and turned to Jared. “You’ll get your fucking essays… God, will I be happy if I don’t have to look at your goddamn face all the time.
The door slammed behind Jensen, and Jared felt his knees give out. He hit the chair hard and felt himself hyperventilate. He thanked all gods he could possibly think off that Jensen had obviously been still too hurt to remodel Jared’s face with his knuckles.
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Jensen chewed on his nails until there was nothing left to bite on. By that time, Chris had come back early from a Friday evening out with some of the guys (that meant mainly Steve and Tom.) Before the door clicked closed again his best friend knew that something was very wrong. Jensen didn’t even try to hide the fact anymore. He was just tired of it. Why did everything just have to be so hard lately? In his previous years in Massachusetts he'd lived the same life, had the same friends and the very same problems. The only thing that had changed this year was Jared. How could a single person, someone he only saw for one hour once a week, make everything that much harder?
It was just unfair. Jared should not have that much control over Jensen’s life, over his feelings, but apparently he did, and Jensen hated him for it. But that was part of the problem, right? Jensen hated Jared, but at the same time he had fallen hard for the other man. It didn’t matter that Jared was a dick to him half the time, because the other half he was just so awesome Jensen couldn’t keep his eyes of him.
For a while Jensen pondered if he maybe should see a shrink, because this whole masochistic falling in love with the one person who hates you to your face instead of hating you behind your back thing must be proof that there was something seriously wrong with him.
“What’s wrong, Jensen?” Chris looked at him, more sober and serious than he should be allowed to be on a Friday night.
Jensen’s eyes flicked up before he stared at his gnawed off nails. “Me.”
His friend frowned, and he sat down next to Jensen, his eyes following Jensen’s gaze as his frown deepened. Jensen was usually not one to gnaw his fingernails.
“D’you wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” Jensen pulled his legs up onto the bed and rested his chin on his knees, arms hugging his shins.
Chris nodded and slung his arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t have left you alone that long so early, huh?”
Jensen huffed and shook his head. “No. That’s not it. You being here wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Really? You’re sure there’s nothing I could have done?” Chris pulled back a little, looking at him.
Jensen gave him a weak smile. “Not unless you think it a good idea to kill Jared…”
Chris’ eyebrows rose. “Uhuh?” Chris went rigid next to him, and Jensen closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry.”
“So you didn't hurt him?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly is this all about?”
Jensen shrugged. “Just me being stupid.”
“How so?”
Jensen ducked his head and gave Chris the abridged version of his argument with Jared, how the man hated his guts, and had told him to get out of his sight.
Chris sat there for a moment.
“I might have to sleep on that ‘not killing Jared’ thing…”
“Don’t, Chris.”
“Well, if the dick wasn’t interested or anything, he could have made that clear in many ways that did not include the sentence, ‘you make me sick’.” Chris fumed but kept his voice to a low growl instead of an angry scream, and Jensen was thankful for that. “I mean that fucking hypocrite doesn’t know anything about you!”
“I know. I told him so.”
“And?”
“And he said he didn’t want to, and that as a matter of fact he didn’t want to meet with me ever again.”
“That settles it. I’m gonna tear that fucker a new one…”
If Jensen had ever had doubts, this evening would have erased them. Chris really was his best friend in the world. Especially when he called Jensen’s sister and made her listen to his boy-troubles for hours when Chris’ inner straight boy hit his borders.
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When Jared took his seat next to Chad at lunch, he couldn’t help looking at Jensen for a long time. He sat, as always lately, huddled between Chris and Steve, Tom across from them.
Chad leaned into Jared’s personal space, while he followed the taller man’s gaze. “You know that Tom is my lab-partner right? He told me that Jensen was on the phone with his little sister every night for the last two weeks… Boy-trouble.”
Jared shrugged. So Jensen’s sister had boy-trouble.
“I mean it must be pretty heavy to phone her all the time, what with the time difference and all…”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s Texas not Belize.”
Chad chuckles. “Jared, you never listen when I’m talking gossip, do you?” Jared shrugged, knowing that he didn’t. “Jensen’s family lives in Spain.”
“Spain?”
“Yeah, that’s why they weren’t here when Jensen was in the hospital. Tom said that he didn’t want them to come, but you know what I think? I think that’s exactly what I’d tell my friends if my parents didn’t show up when I was hurt.”
Jared frowned, processing the information and putting one more piece to the painful puzzle he found Jensen to be. So the other man came from an obviously anything but poor background, his family cruising Europe at the moment, too busy to visit when he was injured. That explained a lot of things. It was classic, kinda like in one of those cheesy teenage movies. The rich kid that got his parents attention only in the form of money, acting out, getting aggressive, being the bad kid.
The stroke of sympathy that tried to latch onto Jared’s conscience was squashed by the memory of hateful words.
Jared was silent for the rest of lunch. He hadn’t told his friends everything that had gone down in this little private war between him and Jensen. They only knew that they didn’t get along well, that Jensen thought he was a geeky idiot, and that they'd come to an agreement to skip personal sessions in favor of essays about the topics. Jared hadn’t mentioned the fights they'd had, nor that Jensen had been gunning for Jared, because he was gay. What good would it be? They might fret over him and make him feel more miserable with their pity. They might share ideas about what kind of wood to order for his coffin, and that definitely would not be helping.
Jared managed to stay clear of Jensen, who didn’t even look at him when they passed each other in the hall, but the looks Chris Kane kept giving Jared were frightening. It meant that this was not a private matter anymore. Jensen had talked to Chris, and it made Jared’s stomach clench in fear. How many more jocks were out on the hunt for Jared, the gay piñata?
When Jared left the library late one evening he saw Chris standing across the corridor and turned to the opposite direction. It was actually completely the wrong turn and led him away from his dorm, but he didn’t care as long as he got away from Kane and his mean stare.
“Wait!”
Jared ducked his head and sped up his steps. A hand clenched down on his shoulder and Jared spun around. “What?” He decided to go for his old tactics, the one that had already worked back in high school. Jared straightened up and gave Chris his best death glare, his voice as steady as his body could manage with his heart thundering at double its normal speed.
“We need to talk.” Chris took a step back, leaving Jared’s personal space.
“I wouldn’t have thought that there was anything we had to talk about.”
“Really?” The other man raised his eyebrows in a mocking gesture, and Jared felt sweat running down the back of his neck. He needed to get away as fast as possible. “Jensen might not agree with you there.”
“I don’t give a shit. You and Jensen go straight to hell and stay the fuck out of my business.”
Jared shoved by Chris and took off down the corridor, hoping that his fighting back had surprised Kane long enough to get his ass to safety.
Thankfully the other man did not follow.
…next part…
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