our parts are slightly used | part one

[kelleigh]

"Hold the elevator!"

Jensen's shoes squeak in staccato as he hustles towards the sliding doors. Briefcase bumping on his hipbone, he stops just in time to see the elevator doors slide closed.

"Dammit."

The lobby is quiet and calm, belying the chaos of the upper floors. Jensen leans his umbrella against the wall, raindrops sliding down to pool in little puddles on the marble floor, and relights the UP button. When a full minute passes with no elevator appearing, Jensen irritably stabs the button again and again.

"Shit!" The digital displays show every elevator on or above the sixth floor. It's already past eight and Jensen's got a client calling in less than half an hour. Another minute passes and Jensen resigns himself to taking the stairs up to the seventh floor.

The stairwell door is right across from the security desk; the lone guard stands when Jensen stalks past. Jensen attempts a double-take because it's a man he's never seen before. However, the floor is slippery from the rain being tracked inside and Jensen nearly slips trying to twist around for a look. His Monday is going to be bad enough without falling and breaking his back just to scope out a guy.

Jensen hip checks the door to the stairs and smiles at the guard. His initial report is confirmed; the guy is tall, leaning slightly to the left as the security monitors flash in gray-scale behind him. Cinnamon colored hair with a dash of natural waviness finger-combed away from his temples, the tiniest shadow of a cleft in the middle of his chin. Jensen notes his prominent brow and high cheekbones. The guard is dressed in the familiar black suit, cut a little square for the build Jensen's imagining underneath, with a dark green tie that matches the Ross Building's exterior awnings. The outfit does much more for him than it ever did for Gary, the squat and stocky guard Jensen's used to rushing past five days a week.

Jensen jokes at his own plight. "Guess I could use the exercise anyway.”

There’s no real reaction from the guard, just a polite smile and a nod. Jensen sighs. Maybe he’s just not that funny this morning.



"Ally said he was a Marine or something."

"How the hell would Ally know that?" Cindy scoffs. She swings her dark brown hair over her shoulder as she waits for her lunch to finish microwaving.

Melanie, the firm’s in-house accountant, shrugs. "I think she said her brother knows him-he was overseas last year."

"Whatever." The buzzer dings; Cindy pops the microwave door and the bland scent of over-steamed vegetables hits Jensen. The break room's empty but for the three of them and Jensen feigns a compelling interest in the office's new single-serving coffee and espresso machine. "He's hot for a security guard."

"Have you talked to him yet?" Melanie's eyes are wide and curious, her wedding ring tap-tapping on her Nalgene bottle which is filled with a god-awful looking murky liquid. Probably the newest 'cleanse.' It has Jensen craving a medium-rare burger and chili fries.

"Haven't had the chance, but I might," Cindy says before taking her soggy broccoli and Diet Coke with her out of the break room.

"Sorry, Jensen. You probably don't want to hear all that nonsense," Melanie apologizes. "Weren't you in the Navy?"

"Oh, no," he fumbles with a plastic pod of hazelnut creamer. "I went to the Citadel, but then I got a job instead of going into the military."

Melanie shrugs and grabs her Nalgene, covetously eyeing Jensen's coffee. "Have you met the new security guard?"

"Nope." Unless witnessing Jensen's elevator plight counts. “Why?”

She smirks. “No reason. Just a hunch.”

“Fine,” he says. “Keep your secrets. Enjoy your, um, lunch?” he adds, side-eyeing the bottle in her hands.

"See you at the meeting!" she chirps.

As Jensen's leaving, he sees her slink over to the coffee machine. That'a girl.



A week later, Jensen has graduated to greeting the new guard with a sunny, "Good Morning," each time he passes through the front door. It's awkward trying to walk and sneak glances towards the security desk at the same time. Luckily for Jensen, the new guard is always at his post. The man hasn't spoken to him, but he grins politely at Jensen whenever he passes through the lobby. First lines and ice-breakers never make it past Jensen's lips no matter what clever little openers he comes up with.

When he stops to take lunch that afternoon, the break room smells like blueberry waffles, toaster still warm on the laminate countertop.

"That smells so good, you don't even know." Melanie's right behind him with a bag of rice crackers. Jensen grabs his turkey sandwich-which is very clearly labeled-from the fridge, but he’s suddenly craving a stack of pancakes, blueberry syrup drizzled over the entire tower. Maybe some whipped cream.

Cindy strides in, an invisible cloud of perfume trailing along with her, and grins at them both.

"His name's Jared."

"Whose name?" Melanie's trying not to look at the candy bar in Cindy's long fingers.

"The guard downstairs. He was in the elevator with me and I saw his name-tag."

"Good job," Melanie says, shrugging. "Did he talk to you?"

"No, but I'm getting there."

Jensen knows that's a lie without pressing; he hasn't heard the new guard talk to anyone. Which is ridiculous-he must be able to talk or the radio clipped to his belt would be useless. Heading back to his office is more appealing than the gossip flying back and forth, so Jensen takes his turkey and flees. He thinks of new, clever openings while he savors the deli sandwich and drifts into the afternoon lull. At least he finally has a name go to with his crush.

All of his work to be clever comes to nothing late on Tuesday afternoon.

As Jensen’s gets caught in the press of office workers passing through the lobby, there’s a sudden clamor by the revolving doors. Like a slow-motion movie sequence, he sees Jared stand and force his way into the middle of the commotion. Jensen catches a dark blur rushing towards him out of the corner of his eye, and before he can turn, someone collides with his shoulder and sends him sprawling onto the tile floor. The crowd parts around him; Jensen watches Jared wrestle a man in a hooded sweatshirt, a white patent handbag lying on the tile next to them.

Handcuffs and a strong voice come out of nowhere. "Stay down or this'll be worse." Jared's growling in the man's ear loud enough for Jensen to hear. A guard in a uniform matching Jared's rushes onto the scene and hauls the cuffed man up and away after a few clipped words into his radio. Jared grabs the handbag, passing it over to a petite brunette standing stricken to the side.

Shaking his head, Jensen notices that his briefcase landed a few feet away. He reaches for the leather handles when a shadow falls on his legs.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Jared's hovering over Jensen, red stripes of exertion painted over his cheekbones, breath easing back from a pant. Jensen takes the hand he's offering and levers himself off the floor.

"You can talk." Even to his own ears, Jensen sounds annoyingly surprised. Despite all his work to come up with something witty, it has to be the worst opening line ever.

"Um, yeah. Of course I can."

"Sorry, I mean..." What the hell does he mean? "I don't think I've ever seen you talk to anyone."

Jared grins and his shoulders shrug off that tense set. "No one ever talks to me. I figured no one was interested, or I made them nervous."

Neither option affects Jensen. Standing face to face, Jared's a few inches taller than Jensen, but he wears the height well, his shoulders thick like a wall. He’s a solid guy-no wonder the purse-snatcher went down hard.

"Jensen. Jensen Ackles." He holds his hand out for a proper introduction. "I work for EKI on seven."

"Oh yeah, the PR firm, I've heard a lot about y'all. I'm Jared Padalecki." Jared gives Jensen's hand a quick shake and moves slowly towards the security desk. There's a definite hitch in Jared's step, a stiffness that's easy for someone like Jensen to pick up on.

"Did you pull something?" He's concerned, but Jared shakes his head, propping himself against the counter.

"An old injury. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but thanks for asking." Sirens break into the conversation and Jared stands straight again, sighing. "Listen, I've gotta go help Rich hand that guy over to the cops."

"Sure-I mean, good job with, you know."

Jared's laugh sounds like a thank you, and then he limps out of the lobby.



There's regular coffee, mocha latte, and dark roast espresso capsules in a little basket next to their new machine.

After five minutes of hard thinking, Jensen finally decides on one latte and one regular coffee, brewed into a pair of disposable mugs, plus a bevy of creams and sugars just in case.

The lobby is quiet after the lunch crowds have gone and come. Jared's leaning forward in his chair over a computer monitor set into the desk. Impromptu coffee dates are hardly original, but Jensen reassures himself that this is not a date-more like an information-gathering session. And only one of the drinks in his hands can technically be considered coffee.

"What's this for?" Jared looks between the two cups and Jensen's face.

"Afternoon tea," Jensen smiles. "Only 'tea' in this case means coffee, if you want it."

"You didn't have to do this," he says as Jensen takes the plastic lids off both cups. Jared slides his chair forward and inhales.

"Figured I needed to make up for being one of those awful people who never talked to you.” Jensen points to the steaming drinks. “This one's regular coffee, and this one's some sort of a caramel latte. I don't really know."

Jared's eyes go bright, focused on the latte, and Jensen nudges it forward.

"Thanks. I used to get these all the time in college, but I wasn't able to after I deployed." Jared takes a long sip after blowing on the white whip. "Man, that's good. Is there a Starbucks upstairs I don't know about?"

"Nope, just a new coffee machine."

Two well-dressed women cross the lobby towards the elevators. Jared nods politely, turning quickly back to Jensen. "You must love having this in the office all the time. I'd probably spend the company's entire budget on gourmet coffee if they let me."

"So you're a serious caffeine junkie?" Jensen appreciates the aroma of the plain roast, lifting the lid and letting the steam waft up into his nose. "Don't they have rehab for that now?"

"I wish." Jared scoots his chair closer to where Jensen's leaning. "Our camp coffee was so bad in Afghanistan, but it was that or nothing. Most of the guys mainlined the stuff just for the kick."

Jensen's always felt strange around soldiers and veterans. His own fleeting brush with the military makes him feel inadequate when faced with someone who fought overseas. But Jared's manner is easy and Jensen doesn't feel that shaky tic in his gut; his curiosity gets the better of his nerves.

"How long have you been out of, what, the Army?"

"Yeah, I was part of the 81st armored division." Jensen recognizes pride tilting the corner of Jared's mouth before it turns down. "I’ve been out for about six months. I kind of lucked into this job. I didn't have anything else going for a while, but my uncle knows the owner of the building."

"After yesterday, I'm sure they're grateful to have you."

Jared shifts, leaning his elbow on the desk and stretching his side. "I paid for it this morning-almost fell out of bed when my leg didn't want to hold me up."

Jensen recalls Jared mentioning an ‘old’ injury. The physical tells he's caught in the last two weeks make sense. "Did it happen in Afghanistan?"

"Yeah, about eight months ago actually, when we-"

Jensen's phone chooses that moment to start vibrating in his pocket, and Melanie's text message berates him in capslock.

-EK WANTS 2 DISCUSS MARCH EVENTS IN 5MINS. GET BACK HERE.

"Duty calls?"

"I'm sorry," Jensen says with sincerity. He's not usually one for small talk, but Jared makes it less of an effort. "Boss is calling a meeting without warning."

"I think they're allowed to do that," Jared responds with a smirk.

"Want me to bring you another latte tomorrow? I usually take a break around this time.”

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." The hint of flirtation in Jared’s voice answers one of Jensen’s questions. He’s definitely not barking up the wrong tree, so to speak.

Jensen hurries off with a wave, throwing Jared one last smile before ducking into the elevator.



"I had no idea if he was trying to lecture me for doing my job, or congratulate me."

"And he just kept talking?" Jared asks disbelievingly.

"Yeah," Jensen chuckles, cheeks hot with humor. "That was the funniest part! Everyone else at the meeting was half asleep, and he just kept going on and on."

"Man, I would’ve laughed so hard."

"My face hurt so much from trying not to!" Jensen’s laughter is loud in the middle of the wide-open lobby. The two of them get a few looks from the maintenance men grabbing sodas from the vending machines.

Jensen's spent the last three afternoons avoiding the break room in favor of hanging out with Jared. Melanie tries to ask what he's up to when he pops in to grab coffee, but he dashes out before she can finish.

He’d been wrong when he pegged Jared as the ‘quiet type’. Their conversation flows as if they've been hanging out for years. Jared always has another story on the tip of his tongue. Jensen's learned that Jared packed a lot of life into his first twenty-nine years, and though there are still plenty of gray areas, he's curious to know more.

"Hey, do you ever watch the UT games?"

"Whenever I can," Jared answers, smiling fondly. "My brother played for the Longhorns way back when. I don't think I mentioned that."

"Was he drafted?"

Jared laughs. "Nah, he polished the bench. Still meant he could go to town on me whenever we played. Why?"

"They're playing Kansas tonight." Jensen puts his plan into action. "I know this great little sports bar and I was thinking we should give beer a try after all this coffee."

"That sounds awesome." Jared sighs. "But I can't make it tonight."

"Got a favorite show you can't miss?"

“You know me,” Jared grins, “I can’t miss an episode of Real Housewives!” Jensen laughs along with the joke, noting the way humor turns Jared’s expression into something rapturous.

When they calm down, Jared says, “Actually, a buddy of mine and I teach a self-defense class over at the university's Wellness Center on Friday nights. College girls learning to kick some ass. They take it pretty seriously. Roller would kill me if I left him alone to fend off fifteen coeds."

"Roller?"

"Army nicknames-always terrible and stick like glue for the rest of your life."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen's interest piques. "You have one?"

"Not one I'm going to admit to in public." Jared winks, the moles on his face accenting his dimples.

"I'll find out someday."

"I'm sure you'll try."

There's a moment where Jensen remembers he's supposed to be disappointed that his proposition led nowhere, but Jared's good attitude makes up for it. Jensen swirls the last dregs of his cool coffee while Jared helps two visitors, handing them temporary badges and directing them to the bank of elevators.

"Hey, do you play?" Jared asks as soon as the visitors are gone. "Basketball, I mean."

"I haven't played a formal game in years, but my neighborhood has a couple of courts I play on every so often."

"Awesome. You look like you're in decent shape," Jared teases, and Jensen hides his blush behind an affronted scoff. "I play with a group of friends, mostly vets, at the VA hospital’s rec center on Saturday mornings. We're short a man for five-on-five this week. It's casual-just a lot of trash talking and goofing off. You interested?"

"Definitely." Jensen tries not to sound too eager. "I'm no Steve Nash-"

"Eh, you'll do.”

Jensen rewards him with a big grin. He makes it upstairs just in time for his weekly strategy session with Cindy, sliding into her office where she and the rest of the event team are waiting.

"Where have you been?" Cindy groans. "I paged your office five minutes ago."

"Sorry," he directs his apology to the event staff. As he brushes past Cindy’s desk, he quietly adds, "I got caught up talking to Jared."

"The security guard?"

"Yeah. Man, can he talk!" He grabs the last chair and pulls up the outline Cindy had sent him earlier on his tablet. "I saw what you all came up with for the Miller launch. Very impressive..."

Cindy doesn't say a word for the next ten minutes.



The gymnasium to which Jared had given him directions is attached to the Veterans' Affairs rehab center. Jensen makes it there ten minutes early. He'd considered showing off with tighter shorts, but had no idea what Jared's buddies would make of him. So he’d settled on an old, comfortable pair of basketball shorts and a gray Longhorns tee, happy with the Texas victory over Kansas last night.

The gym is surprisingly full for a Saturday morning. Small groups sit and chat on the bleachers, and there’s already one pick-up game being played at the far end of the court. Closer to the door, Jensen spies Jared standing amongst a small group of people. He’s wearing far less than usual, drab suit and tie exchanged for black tee and matching black track pants with long white stripes.

"Jensen, hey!" Jared waves him over. "Drop your bag anywhere.”

With high spirits, Jared introduces Jensen to his friends. Mark is shorter than Jared but possesses the same goofy grin. His girlfriend Jamie is even shorter with a natural tan, bouncy auburn ponytail, and freckled cheeks. DJ, Lincoln, and Ben all sport the same military-issue haircuts and bandages somewhere on their bodies: around a knee, shoulder, or thigh. Caitlin's the opposite of Jamie; she’s tall with short, spiky blonde hair and a serious game face, but she smiles when Jared nudges and teases her. The last two players roll in together-one literally rolling towards them in a slimmed-down wheelchair, black gloves protecting his hands as they skim over the wheels.

"This is Jimmy," Jared introduces the man in the wheelchair, "and Blake."

"Sorry man." Jimmy slaps Jared's hand in a low-five. "P.T. ran a little late today."

"’Cause this guy was flirting with Mandy again," Blake clarifies, walking up to Jared and slapping him on the shoulder. His height’s a match for Jared’s but his features are more rounded, a few days’ worth of light brown stubble shadowing his jaw. Like Jared, his eyes are bright and filled with good humor.

"So who's ready?" Jared claps for everyone's attention and divides the teams, handing out red and yellow wrist bands. As the yellow team-Mark, Jamie, Lincoln, Jared and Jensen-gathers to strategize, Jared bumps shoulders with Jensen. "Nervous?"

"I wish you were on the other team so I could kick your ass," Jensen ribs him.

"In your dreams! But we sort of have an unofficial rule about that."

"Huh?"

"Well, like, Mark and Jamie have to be on the same team-they're a couple, you know? DJ and Ben too, only they just flirt like crazy. They're not dating."

Jensen scrunches his nose.

In the huddle, Lincoln laughs. "It’s the groping, man. Blake brought this girl once, and they got on opposite teams. All they did was feel up on each other when they were supposed to be guarding."

"You're just mad ‘cause you were on Blake's team and y'all got your asses kicked." Jared pushes Lincoln and avoids the hand swiping back to retaliate. "You're sort of my guest," he adds to Jensen. "So it's like an extension of the rule."

The red team shouts across the gym and everyone grabs their spot on the court. Jensen's brain finally catches up. They have a 'couples rule'. And he and Jared are playing on the same team. His brain's so busy devouring the idea, he almost misses the first pass.

"Don't let Jimmy fool you, and don't feel bad getting in his face," Mark points out after Jensen dribbles and avoids a steal from Ben. The rest of the gang laughs, even Jimmy. "He'll run over your toes to get the ball-the man's a monster and a cheat."

Half an hour later, Jensen's covered in sweat and his cheeks hurt from laughing. Jimmy has only run over his foot once and Jensen learns not to underestimate him-the man has an ace shot. Jared wasn't lying, there's a lot of trash being slung between the teams, playful shoves and digs traded back and forth. Despite attempts to keep groping at a minimum, Jensen finds ways to sidle up next to Jared. Brush of an arm here, a sweaty touch there. Lingering handshakes after someone on the yellow team scores.

Jensen doesn't feel too bad about his skills, but Jared's moves on the court are a little stilted. He’s clearly guarding his left leg-Jensen wonders again exactly what kind of injury he sustained-but nothing tempers his enthusiasm.

The hour passes quickly. Too soon, Mark is grabbing the ball after the red team gets their twenty-first point, bringing the overall game score to one apiece.

"Guess we're settling for a tie!" Mark shouts, slightly winded, and everyone seems happy to end the competition there.

"Feel like grabbing lunch?" Jared catches Jensen on the way to their bags. "I'm starving."

"Oh, sure. I brought a change of clothes, thinking I'd grab something afterward."

Mark and Jamie take off right away, along with Blake, Caitlin, and Jimmy. The rest of them head for the locker room, though Jensen and Jared are the only ones who don't bother with a shower.

"I'm too hungry," Jared says. "You'd hear my stomach rumbling all the way in here."

Jensen dresses efficiently after toweling the sweat from his body. He tries not to look Jared's way, but he can't help it.

There's nothing to notice at first. Jared is shirtless, pulling boxers on under his towel, and Jensen’s eyes linger fondly on the definition in his chest, the bitable thickness of his upper arms. He’s fucking gorgeous, and Jensen’s taste buds scream for the chance to sample Jared’s flat brown nipples. As his gaze travels downward, however, Jensen sees the discoloration. He can only make out a small piece of the scarring above Jared's hips, curling over his abdomen like the first hints of a tattoo. What really snags Jensen is what he sees below Jared's boxers after the towel's pulled away: puckered, dark skin that wraps around his thigh and fades out above his knee. The evidence of Jared's misfortune can't be hidden.

Jared isn't turning away or covering up. He's giving Jensen plenty of time to look, to get the staring out of the way. Waiting for Jensen to decide if it matters.

It doesn't.

Jensen slips back into his sneakers and hoists his duffel over his shoulder. Jared's dressed and smiling.

"Ready?"



"You held up pretty well out there for a suit."

Jensen swallows a bite of his chicken salad. "Gee thanks, jerk."

The small cafe is packed for Saturday lunch. Jared had snagged a corner table when they walked in, keeping them away from most of the hustle and bustle.

"Seriously!" Jared's laughing over his hot sub. "Do you have a treadmill in your office or something? Hit the gym every day?"

"I used to work out a lot,” he says, “but now I just run every other morning and try to play a round of golf at least once a week.”

The Citadel had given Jensen the fitness bug, enforcing a certain regime to keep their cadets in shape between classes and tight schedules. When he wasn't running through downtown Charleston in the afternoon, wearing his navy blue shirt and shorts, he was biking the diamond-anchored span of the Ravenel Bridge early in the morning while the cargo ships sailed smoothly on the Cooper River beneath. The workouts started as a chore but became a time for Jensen to delve into his own headspace while his feet pounded the pavement.

“A golfer, huh?”

Jensen shrugs. “I like the outfits.”

"That's a lot more than I can do."

"You didn't look too bad."

Jared's not really the blushing type, though his eyes go soft and his dimples come out of hiding. Jensen likes that reaction even more.

"You can join us next weekend, too, if you want," Jared says.

"Are good players that hard to come by that you're giving me a second try-out?" Jensen laughs, polishing off the crunchy blue potato chips on his plate.

"Just want to see if this week was a fluke or not," Jared teases right back, elbows resting on the small table. "We went easy on you today."

"Jimmy ran over my toes and Caitlin tried to pants me. That was easy?"

"Trust me." Jared's voice lowers in mock-seriousness. "This was nothing. You in?"

"Definitely."



Sunday morning, Jensen tees off at eight o’ clock sharp. The weather’s favorable, mild for February, meaning the course is busier than it’s been in months.

Behind him, Warren whistles as he watches Jensen’s tee-shot sail straight over the fairway. “Nice shot, kid. You’re going to cost me some money today.”

Despite being in his late forties, Warren Creavalle is a handsome man. Chestnut waves (lightly salted), thick enough to book hair commercials, combed away from a wide face featuring dark, expressive eyebrows and a piercing gray gaze. Jensen had met him years ago at a black-tie charity function; the attraction was immediate. Warren was one of the charity’s top-tier donors-his money was dripping in oil-but he’d been happy to skip the majority of the function in favor of stripping Jensen out of his tuxedo in a lavish, private bathroom.

For a short time, Jensen had glimpsed a future for the two of them, but Warren wasn’t looking for commitment. The end of their short relationship didn’t hit Jensen as hard as it could have, and they’d decided to remain friends. Infrequent lunches turned into weekly appointments. Well aware of Jensen’s golfing abilities, Warren eventually invited Jensen to his country club. Their routine had gone unbroken ever since.

Today, they catch up over the first nine holes, sharing news from the week. On the back nine, Jensen tells Warren about Jared.

“You’re sure he’s gay?” Warren asks as they’re walking up to the green on twelve.

“Positive.”

The signs are fairly obvious-he and Jared shared an instant rapport-but Jensen doesn't have enough experience to know whether it's friendship or something more. Nevertheless, the possibility makes Jensen feel light, like his heart’s filled with helium.

Jensen’s ball is away, so he putts first, well aware of Warren’s friendly scrutiny.

“What?” he asks after his putt misses to the left.

Warren’s expression is subtly devious. “Nothing, my dear.” He meticulously lines up his putt and sinks it on the first try. Warren’s not the type to gloat out loud; his smile says enough. “But you’ve known Jared for a week. How has he been able to resist you this long? Now, when I met you-”

Jensen laughs. “I know, I know. But I’m okay with it,” he says truthfully. “I like the anticipation.”

Blocking out Warren’s smug expression, Jensen sinks his second putt. Tilting his face towards the sun, Jensen basks in the warmth. Even living in Texas, he’s ready for winter to be over.

“Ah, now I understand.”

Shouldering their bags, Warren and Jensen walk to the next tee.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Warren says nothing, pulling a 3-wood from his bag.

“Warren…”

“Jensen, my dear, if you have to ask…”

Warren tees off, stepping aside once his ball lands just off the fairway. He continues to watch Jensen with an all-knowing grin, refusing to say more. Jensen plays the rest of the round with an edge. If Warren’s going to continue acting superior, Jensen’s going to deliver on his earlier prediction. He intends to make sure Warren loses a fat wad of cash.

That’ll teach him not to mess with Jensen’s head.



Walking into the Ross Building on Monday morning, Jensen discovers Cindy leaning over the security desk. She holds Jared's attention only until he notices Jensen across the lobby, and his eager wave nearly knocks Cindy over. That smug feeling stays with Jensen all day and he brings Jared a chocolate chip muffin with his latte that afternoon.

During the week, he and Jared continue their routine of coffee and conversation. Jared is curious and asks about the Citadel, though they skim over Jensen's decision to move into the corporate world instead of enlisting, and Jared shares more stories about his time overseas with Mark, Blake, and DJ.

Jensen's week flies by. Warren invites him to have drinks at a downtown lounge on Wednesday night. He apologizes for his behavior during their golf game, taking it one step further by listening to Jensen talk about Jared. This is new territory in their friendship; Jensen hasn’t dated much since he and Warren broke up, but he’s never found someone like Jared. He wants to share his happiness.

On Friday, Jared invites him for another round of basketball with his buddies.

"If you want us to go easy on you again, we will."

"No way," Jensen laughs, spinning his empty coffee cup on the desk. "Whatever you've got, I want to see it."

"Oh really?" Jared teases, setting off a new bout of laughter from both of them.

"Skills, man. Don't know why you think I meant anything else." Jensen's never been able to flirt so effortlessly in his life. If this is what it's supposed to feel like, he's been getting it wrong for years.

"Hey, do you want to catch a movie after the game? I haven't gone in ages so I'd be up for anything."

Jensen agrees before he can blink, and then Jared gives him something he didn't have: his phone number.

"Just in case you change your mind."

Not a chance of that happening, but Jensen gladly takes his number, scribbled on a little neon green post-it that Jensen sticks to the face of his cell phone. When he reverted back to being a high-schooler with a crush, Jensen's not sure, but for the rest of the afternoon it gives him a little thrill every time he pulls out his phone and sees the bright note.



"You are welcome back here any time, man." Lincoln pats Jensen on the back, sharing the sweet taste of victory. Jensen and Jared had teamed up with Lincoln, Caitlin and Blake to wallop the red team two games to nothing.

"We’ve gotta break up the Jays though," Ben complains. "I don't care about the rules, that's just unfair."

"You're talking about Jimmy and I, right?" Jamie joins in, holding Mark's hand as they all congregate in the VA's lobby. "'Cause we're totally awesome."

"Hell yes." Jimmy wheels over and holds his fist out. "Punch it, girl."

Ben laughs. "Y'all are great, but I was totally talking about Iron Man and Jensen."

That starts a debate on the court legality of the 'couples rule'. Jensen calmly backs away and bumps into Jared's side.

"Thought about what movie you want to see?"

"Oh crap," Jensen sighs. "I don't even know half of what's out. You?"

"How about The Avengers?” Jared hoists his bag higher on his shoulder where it had slipped. "Unless you've already seen it."

"Nope, that sounds good,” Jensen tells him, hiding his excitement. He loves Marvel movies, but rarely knows anyone willing to go and see one.

"Want to grab snacks at the theater? There's a nice one right off the next exit if you jump on the highway."

"You guys are going to a movie?" Mark's voice cuts in. The debate's clearly over and half the group is heading out the doors, but Mark, Jamie, and Caitlin are hanging around. "Awesome, I haven't been in forever. Cait, you wanna come? Wait, what are we seeing?"

Just like that, Jensen's date turns into a group outing. Jared gives him a timid smile while they all walk out of the rec center to grab their cars; Jensen can see he doesn't have it in him to tell his friends to bug off. He grins back to show that he doesn't really mind even as his brain's telling him to grab Jared and abscond with him. Jensen kicks his brain to the curb and follows Jared's truck all the way to the theater.

Afterward, Jensen can admit he had a good time. He and Jared were never alone, but the five of them crowded into a middle row in the half-empty theater-Jensen, Jared, Mark in the middle with Jamie, and Caitlin on his other side-and provided their own commentary. The girls plowed through more nachos and cheese than the guys could manage while Jensen concentrated on keeping Jared's wandering hands away from his bag of Swedish Fish. Jensen was disappointed that those same hands didn't attempt to wander in more interesting directions, but their fingers brushed softly every now and then to keep Jensen's hopes alive.

His ass is numb by the end of the movie, but Jared's worse off, walking gingerly through the parking lot.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Jared says with a grimace showing how bad of a liar he is. "Guess I'm just a little sore after playing and sitting on my ass for hours."

"You guys sure you don't want to come grab dinner and a couple beers?" Mark's arm is slung over Jamie's shoulders. Caitlin had taken off a few minutes earlier.

"Nah, I'm gonna head home and soak in the shower."

Jensen declines as well, worried about Jared.

"Don't worry, I'm good. Seriously, Jensen." He grins, leans against his truck bed. "That was fun though. Maybe we can do it again next weekend."

"Or this week," Jensen's quick to suggest. Less chance of extra wheels. "Will you call me tonight when your leg's feeling better?"

"Why? Are you gonna come over and rub it for me?"

Nothing dampens their flirting for long, it seems, and Jensen fires back. "Hey! I studied Physical Therapy for a while. These hands can still work wonders."

"I'll bet."

"Seriously though, call me?" Jensen wants to make sure before Jared hops up into the truck and speeds away.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks for coming today. I had-you know."

Jensen smiles. "Yeah, me too."



"God, you're so cheery. Can't you turn it down a notch?"

Jensen's grin gets wider and Cindy cringes. He can see the hangover in her bleary eyes and pale temples. "Too many mimosas at brunch yesterday?"

"Don't even," she groans, her ballet-pink nails digging into her forehead. "Just leave or something."

"This is my office."

She opens one eye, but then scrunches both tightly. "I hate Mondays."

He lets her sink into a daze while he reviews his ideas for an event they're supposed to be working on. Jensen could be reciting explicit gay porn and Cindy wouldn't catch on; she's practically asleep.

Jared had called on Saturday night and the two of them had talked for nearly an hour. Wrapped up in his comforter with Sportscenter muted on his bedroom television, Jensen had listened to more of Jared's stories until he couldn't hold back the yawns. Falling asleep to the sound of someone else's voice was a novel experience.

Sunday dawned cloudy, rain pattering against Jensen’s windows. Instead of playing golf, Jensen met Warren for a late lunch at the country club. Back at home, he’d called Jared. That conversation lasted throughout the rest of the afternoon. It was light and casual, forcing Jensen to the realization that he needed to get his act together and make a move.

Cindy flees for an early lunch as soon as Jensen ends their meeting. After she leaves, he gets down and dirty with the rest of his work.

Jared's waiting behind the security desk when Jensen gets his break, lighting up the lobby with a wide smile.

"Thank God, you brought coffee."

"I see how this works. You only want me for my coffee."

"Don't forget your court skills," Jared adds, snatching the latte and blowing the whip. "Those too."

"Hah hah," Jensen mutters. Jared smiles, teeth as bright as the white foam. "You feeling any better?"

"Yeah." Jared doesn't get up, leaning further back in his chair. "Still a little sore, you know? But definitely better."

"Next time you should let me come home with you." Jensen keeps the offer casual. "Because with your legs, I really could help."

Jared takes a careful sip of his coffee, licks his lips to catch all the stray whip. "Well then, next time I will."

The way Jared says it, low and nuanced, plays over and over in Jensen's head when he catches the elevator back to his office, smiling at his reflection the entire ride. Maybe Jensen's not the only one trying to get his act together.



"I'm cashing in my rain check."

"For what?" Jensen's been trying to fill in the last squares of Jared's sudoku from the newspaper for ten minutes. Damn these extra-hard puzzles!

"You, me, a bar and a basketball game, remember?" Jared watches him erase a pair of fours that are frustratingly occupying the same set of squares. "The Vols are playing Georgia Tech at eight."

"Don't you have your class?"

Jared shakes his head, loosening the hair tucked behind his ears. "There's some big campus festival tonight, so the girls asked us to bump the class to five-thirty instead of seven-thirty. I've got plenty of time if you want to meet up. You said you knew a good place, right?"

That's how they end up at JR's on Friday night, a pitcher of beer nearly empty on the table between them. Tennessee's wiping the court with Tech so they're paying more attention to their conversation than the game. Jared's fussing at the remains of their nachos, forking stray bits of chicken and cheese.

"How was your class?"

"Those girls worked me out so hard." He sits back rigidly. "I think they like it when I'm sore. Makes 'em feel good when they can knock me around once in a while."

He's amused by the mental picture of Jared set upon by a dozen bubbly coeds, but then he realizes they're supposed to play basketball tomorrow.

"I'll make it. I hate canceling on those guys," he says after Jensen asks if he's up to it. "It gets me out of bed in the morning."

"But if you're hurting-"

"I'll be fine."

Jensen doesn't act on the prickle of annoyance that follows Jared's brush-off. It’s good that nothing gets him down, even circumstances that would force anyone else to take a day off.

"We're gonna be on opposite teams, remember? I want to make sure I've got the best competition."

Jared rallies. "Don't worry," he says. "There's no way you're walking off that court a winner."

"That's pretty big talk, Iron Man."

"What did-" Gaping disbelief is not a good look on Jared, Jensen decides. "Who told you?" Jared demands, but before Jensen works out how to curb his anger, Jared relaxes. "Fuck, it was at the game last week, wasn't it?"

"Ben let it slip, yeah."

"That fucker." Jared pulls a long swallow from his pint glass, Jensen doing the same as if thirst is contagious. "You've been waiting all week to throw that out, haven't you?"

Jensen had and he mentally high-fives himself at the timing. "I'm guessing you don't have a mechanical heart, so where's the name come from?"

"Trust me," Jared says, "the name's much cooler without the story."

"Suit yourself."

Their server, decked out in a faded gray Cowboys t-shirt, drops two plates on the table. She gives them a grin. "Anything else, guys?"

"I think we're good," Jensen says. "Thanks, Andee." She’s his favorite around here for a reason: there are extra pickles and a side of honey mustard already on his plate. Food takes the place of conversation, cheers and whistles from the game in the background. It's entertaining to watch Jared attempt to eat his Buffalo wings and keep up with the game at the same time. Jared licks the spicy red sauce from his lips and from his fingertips, making Jensen forget all about Jared’s mysterious nickname.

Andee comes back around to take their plates after Jensen's picked up every drop of honey mustard with his sweet potato fries. Jared's got a pile of napkins stained with hot sauce on his plate; he's patting his stomach contentedly through his dark olive shirt.

"You weren't kidding about this place," Jared says. "I'm gonna get fat if I keep eating out like this."

"It's fucking worth it," Jensen says and laughs.

"I wish I was still in the service. I could eat as much as I wanted even if the rations were crap."

"Do you want to go back?"

Jared glances away when a roar goes up from the game. No big surprise, the Vols are jumping around the court in victory and the mostly-orange crowd swells around the players.

"I can't go back," Jared says, "but I would if I could. It just fit for me, you know? The Army's been my life since I was nineteen and I never figured I'd have to find something to replace that."

"Can you go back to school or something now that you're out?"

“I'm not there yet,” he admits, “and I wouldn’t know what to study anymore.”

Andee drops the check directly in the middle of the table. Jensen snags it first. "It's only fair since you got beat up by a bunch of girls today."

"Ass." Jared leans back to stretch out his chest. There's a moment where his face goes tight, all movement stopped like a cord pulled past its breaking point, then he relaxes again. Jensen's old PT training rushes back, pin-pointing the likely places on Jared's body where the pressure's built up.

"Are you up for another drink?" Jensen asks.

"You want me to be a mess out on the court tomorrow, don't you?"

"Hey, no," Jensen says. "I want you to be one hundred percent when I kick your ass."

Jared shakes his head, eyes momentarily soft and thoughtful, reminiscent of a time Jensen's not privy to. "In that case I should head home and plan my strategy for tomorrow. You, on the other hand, should get some beauty sleep. At the very least you'll look pretty when I'm wiping the court with you."

"You are so dead."

The laughter and ribbing continue all the way out into the parking lot, but Jensen keeps his mouth shut when Jared steps up into his truck. Not a fluid motion-half of Jared's body is stiff as a board-but he manages and rolls down the window once the door shuts.

"Thanks for dinner, man," he says.

"Catch you in the morning." Jensen waves and the truck revs out of the parking lot.



With the 'couples rule' off the table, there's mayhem on the basketball court. Mark and Jamie are tasked with picking teams; Jensen ends up on the yellow squad along with Jamie, Ben, Lincoln, and Jimmy.

"Those bitches are going down," Jimmy chants, rolling into their huddle.

Jensen knows he's supposed to be guarding DJ, but after Ben lets Jared score two from a layup, the match-ups get switched around and suddenly Jared's right in Jensen's face. Jensen gets a short, low pass from Jamie and tries to dribble around the human brick wall.

"Why isn't your nickname Sasquatch?" Jensen fakes left and quick-steps around Jared's right side. "It would have fit better 'cause you're a fucking house."

"My mom says I'm perfect just the way I am!" Jared laughs after Jensen manages to find an opening and get the ball away to Jimmy who, after running over Mark's toes, takes it to the net.

"Yeah, well your mom also says-" Jensen starts, but Jared gets the ball on an inbound throw from Caitlin and they're back on their game.

An hour and a half later, Jensen's panting on the sidelines. Jared is already sitting on the bleachers, one leg bent and the other straight out in front of him. His head's fallen back, nose tipped towards the ceiling, and his lungs expand with every deep breath.

"Dude"-Mark sucks in a lungful of air-“was it just me...or was that game ridiculous?"

The entire group is more winded than usual. They'd ended with a draw-one game apiece-but Jensen feels like he's gone five rounds with a freight train. Sure, he'd flirted with Jared and used the opportunity to press himself as close to Jared as possible while they played, but no one had wanted to lose.

Lincoln raises his hand. "I vote the couples rule back in effect next week."

"Second!" Blake adds, bent double with his hands on his knees.

Ben rubs his shoulder where white bandages are wrapped thick around his joint. "I won't make it through another Saturday like this." He's smiling, but Jensen spies the twinge of pain in his expression.

The group divides towards the locker rooms, making slow progress. Blake's leaning heavily on Jimmy's lightweight basketball chair as they go. On the bench, Jared hasn't moved.

"You doing okay?" Jensen takes a seat next to him.

"I'll let you know in a minute."

A minute passes, then two. After three, Jensen sighs. "I'm helping you up, you're getting changed, and then we're going back to your place."

Jared tilts his head around and grins. "I didn't know you could be so bossy."

"You have no idea. Now, up!"



Jared's place is a cookie-cutter apartment in a stuccoed complex ten minutes from downtown, shade trees planted strategically around the buildings. The few rooms are sparely decorated. Either Jared hasn't had the apartment for very long or he's not one for mementos. Instead of a tour, Jared leans on the counter and points Jensen in various directions.

"Got a guest bedroom over there, but I don't have any furniture for it yet," he says. "I'm sort of collecting things as I go. I've never really had much in the way of stuff."

"You've got a couch, that'll work."

"Hmmm," Jared hums. "Sounds kinky. You're not even buying me lunch first."

"Dick," Jensen laughs, knocking lightly at Jared's arm so not to jostle him. "Change into something comfortable-"

Jared's eyebrow cocks straight up.

"Oh no," Jensen says, "I didn't mean get naked. Get comfy and I'll give you a massage."

"Sweet." Jared's voice is eager but his body lags behind as he disappears into the main bedroom.

Jensen hears drawers opening, the sound of a faucet a few minutes later. He rolls up his sleeves and toes off his shoes, leaving them on the tile by the front door. Pushing Jared's coffee table away from the couch, Jensen kneels down and waits.

"Hey, I-whoa." Jared comes out of the bedroom and stops, staring at Jensen. "You…um, are you okay?"

"Just waiting for you to get your ass over here."

Jared squeezes between Jensen and the couch. "I really appreciate this, man. I don't get this sort of treatment every day."

"Maybe you're faking your pain to get me to do this."

"I want your hands on me that badly, yeah," Jared jokes even as it takes him a full minute to sit down. "How do you want me?"

The question hangs heavy between them. They've flirted non-stop for weeks and Jensen could take full advantage of the situation, but he's not going off some cheap porn script. Jared's in genuine pain. Advantage-taking might just have to wait a little longer.

"You're good," he says, scooting forwards so that he's kneeling at Jared's left side, the puckered scarring visible below Jared's soft cotton shorts.

Jared keeps his eyes averted, pupils slowly losing focus as he stares off towards the television. "I think I made it worse today," he admits. "Do you need lotion or anything?"

"We're not at a spa," Jensen says, grinning. "All I need are these." He flexes his fingers. "Where's the worst of the pain?"

"Hmm?" Jared blinks back to Jensen's face. "Oh, definitely my lower back, but it's all kind of...spreading, I guess."

Now that Jared's sitting, Jensen wants to keep him off his feet. He gauges where to start, forces his mind to look at Jared's body from a clinical perspective-it's not entirely possible but he makes a good effort. His fingers ring Jared's ankle; he feels the strain in the tendons.

"Take a deep breath and relax your muscles as much as you can. Just let 'em go limp."

There's little improvement when Jared exhales. Jensen has his work cut out for him. Starting at the ankle, Jensen kneads his fingers into weary muscles, imagining he can reshape them under his palms, soothing strains and easing the kinks two days of physical activity have given Jared. Moving up Jared's calf, Jensen's pulse kicks up a notch. Jared has led a physical life and it shows, appealing to Jensen's libido, but there are unavoidable signs of wasting: Jared’s left leg shows far less muscle tone than his right.

Jared barely hisses when Jensen's fingers manipulate a palpable knot behind his left knee. Either his touch is divine or…

"Are you okay?"

"Startin' to feel no pain," Jared drawls, syllables sticking together like molasses on his tongue. "You're good."

"I'm not this good," he mutters, seeing Jared's eyes roll lazily in their sockets.

Things get complicated above Jared’s knee, the scarring under his hands evident and almost untouchable. Jensen slides his fingers around the inside of Jared's lower thigh where the skin is intact and unblemished, gaining a feel for the man beneath the warped muscles. He gets a sense of how intense Jared's pain must become and how easily that must happen through every-day activities. And the inevitable questions follow in his mind about what happened to leave Jared like this. He floats his fingers over the lowest curl of the scar, edging closer...

"You don't-" Jared tries to sit up, muscles going lax from the waist down to hamper him.

"I won't," Jensen says, immediately grasping Jared's meaning. "There a lot I can do to help without touching it if you'd rather I didn't."

"It can be weird, you know?"

There's a line between vanity and trust they haven't crossed yet. Jensen is patient; he's seen the damage, but touching is clearly an issue.

"I get it, stay comfy if you need to," he says. "But if you can move a little, I'll get your lower back since you said it was pretty bad."

Jared turns as if there are bags of sand tied to his limbs, legs heavy with the weight, but he gets his right hip up against the back of the couch, right leg bent semi-comfortably underneath him. His left is as straight as it can be, foot on the floor, though Jared displays more flexibility now than when Jensen began. Jared's neck goes loose, head dropping forward and bringing his spine into a convex position.

Jensen allows his touch to become more forceful-a push instead of a gentle guiding motion. This is where Jared needs the relief and as he works, Jensen feels the difference. It's been too long since he's done this, helped someone through nothing but his hands, and it’s heady and gratifying to see Jared loosen a little with every stroke along his spine, going deeper into the knotted tissue of his lower back.

And then Jared goes boneless, melting into the cushions like soggy Jell-O. Yeah, like Jensen thought before, he's not that good.

"Dude-" Jensen pulls Jared around by the shoulder until he's leaning back into the couch. It's a few seconds before Jared's eyes come around to Jensen's and it hits him. "What did you take?"

"Muscle relaxant." The words are a jumble for Jensen to pick apart. "Got 'em for the worst of it."

"You should've told me," Jensen says quietly.

"Somethin' gonna go wrong?"

"No, you'll be fine. I needed to work out the tension and get your blood flowing again." Jensen settles against Jared's left shoulder; he doesn't appear to notice the proximity. "But you're gonna get all loopy on me now and you won't be able to say ‘thank you’ for all of my hard work."

Jared's laugh is sincere, albeit drowsy and slow. "Thanks. You can kiss me if you want, 'cause I can't really move."

Jensen's breath brakes hard in his throat. "I'm not gonna kiss you when you're all dopey."

"But I wanna thank you," Jared sighs, twitching his fingers towards Jensen's legs. That’s the extent of his ability to move.

"Thank me later."

Jared blinks, eyelids slow to come up again. "Wanna stay 'n watch TIVO? I got the Florida game from last night."

"Then it's my turn to take a rain check." Jensen's embarrassed by his own decidedly non-clinical response to touching Jared and by the looks of things, Jared's only going to be awake for another two and a half minutes anyway. "I've got some work to finish up. Don't you dare move off this couch unless you're going to bed."

"M'kay."

By the time Jensen picks up his stuff and turns around at the front door, Jared's already out. He laughs quietly, but there's an odd pinging in his chest when he shuts the door behind him.

Of all the ways Jensen thought today could have ended, leaving Jared to sleep off his muscle relaxant-induced coma never even made it onto the list.

PART TWO.