J2 Big Bang Fic: Hewitched Part 3

[lizzywinks]

Back to Chapter 2

The solution to his problem comes two days later with the discovery of a note from his housekeeper, reminding him that she has a family wedding to attend, and asking if the replacement housekeeper Ms. Genevieve had arranged would be arriving before she'd left for the airport?

The fact that Jared found the note in the debris of an upturned ficus tree in a seldom-used room where Harley had plainly made another one of his half-assed attempts to bury his favorite toy-a plush honking pheasant that he seemed to love and hate in equal measure-made Jared realize that: a) he can’t actually remember the last time he saw his housekeeper, which would also explain the lack of coffee in the mornings lately and his microwave still looking like someone had exploded a pizza inside it, and b) it was pretty likely that in the midst of all the quitting and throwing around of insults, Ms. Genevieve hadn’t had time to arrange any actual cover for his housekeeper’s absence.

When he reports these fact to Jensen later that morning, Jensen just nods. "Okay, so I assume there's someone I should call?"

"That would be great," Jared says, studiously tapping out a message into his phone that he has no intention of sending . "Oh, or maybe... no, no. Never mind."

"What? Is there something else I should do? It's not a problem," Jensen says, little red book already in his hand.

"Well, I was just thinking that a lot of assistants actually live-in so that they can co-ordinate things like this. It would only be temporary, of course..." Jared trails off when Jensen frowns down at his book, pen tapping out an irregular beat on the hard cover.

"Forget it," Jared says hurriedly, "It was just a thought, man. I'm not even sure now who mentioned it to me, so you probably shouldn't... You know what, whoever they can send will be fine-"

"I have a cat," Jensen says over Jared's babbling.

Jared pauses and then nods, stomach still tight with embarrassment. "Um, okay?"

"No, I mean, would it be okay if he comes too? He gets kind of cranky if I go places without him, and the last time it was like this big thing when I got home; mice in my shoes, mice in my shower, mice in my bed. He always denies it's him, but c'mon-"

"What?" Jared lets out a huge, relieved laugh, and Jensen tilts his head quizzically. "Okay, well, yeah, that's fine. You should definitely bring your cat; I'm sure Sadie and Harley will love having him around. Also, may I suggest he never be allowed to watch The Godfather?"

Jensen shakes his head blankly, and Jared grins, happiness bubbling up inside him. "Man, you have got to get a TV. Seriously, sometimes it's like we're speaking another language."



The backpack that Jensen has hooked over his shoulder when he arrives later that night is disappointingly small. Jared reminds himself sternly that he already has a housekeeper who will presumably be returning at some point. He's already not sure how he's going to explain Jensen to her, so maybe it's just as well he hasn't arrived looking as though he's in it for the long-haul.

Once he's inside the door, Jensen glances around as though he's never seen Jared's house before. Which, Jared then realizes, except for media room, he hasn't.

"Hey, man, thanks again for this," Jared says, ushering Jensen out of the entrance hall and through to the kitchen. Half way there, he suddenly remembers the disaster area that is the microwave, and grabs hold of his elbow to change direction. "Um, let me show you to your room first and then we can do the tour," he says instead.

"Okay. Hey, where are the dogs?" Jensen asks as they're making their way up the stairs to one of the larger guest suites.

"Oh, I locked them in their room for now. Figured we'd better give your cat chance to settle in before we let them meet. It'll be fine," he hurries to add. "The kids are real friendly with other animals, but I thought if your cat-"

"Isis. My cat," Jensen explains when Jared frowns.

"Right, I figured Isis might be a bit wary. They are kind of intimidating at first glance. Um," Jared glances again at the small bag, "where is Isis?"

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Outside checking the perimeter."

"Okay, that's..." Jared blinks. "Aren't you afraid he might run away?"

Jensen lets out a little disparaging snort. "I should be so lucky."

Jared's prevented from asking anything more when they arrive at the door to the suite. He pushes it open and waves Jensen in before him. "I think you should be comfortable," he says, glancing around with a critical eye. The room is large and luxurious, plush carpets and muted colors on the walls contrasting with bright jewel colors on the bed covers and cushions. Ridiculously expensive original art shares wall space with more kitch, modern pieces. To the left is small living area with a cut down home theater system that's slightly set apart from a pair of deep cushioned armchairs beside a small bookcase filled with a mix of genres. A door to the right leads to the bathroom, and the far wall has a balcony that overlooks the pool.

Finding nothing amiss, he glances over at Jensen to gauge his reaction. Jensen drops his backpack onto the floor and heads over to open the balcony doors. "Wow, if this is the kind of living accommodation your help gets, I'm guessing your room is lined in gold?"

Jared squirms. His housekeeper doesn't actually live-in, but it suddenly doesn't seem wise to share that little fact, so he says instead, "It was, but a mattress stuffed with diamonds and precious metals is actually more uncomfortable than you'd imagine. In the end the lack of sleep just wasn't worth it, so I had them ripped out and replaced with shredded hundred dollar bills."

"Nice." Jensen reaches over to pat at his own bed. "Guess I'll be sleeping like a king tonight."

"Well, maybe a duke," Jared allows. "I only use twenty dollar bills in the guest rooms."

Jensen tsks. "Cheapskate."

"Hey, I'm a TV star now. Gotta economize." A noise from the balcony has him jerking toward it, heart rate jumping into a shuddering gallop in his chest. Instead of the masked intruder he's half-way expecting-a lifetime spent inhabiting fake worlds bleeds over on occasion-he sees a small cat, blue fur tipped in silver like a halo, drifting nonchalantly through the gap in the door. He lets out a huffing breath of relief and turns toward Jensen. It's only when he finds the spot beside him empty, that he realizes that he must have stepped up in front of him when he first heard the noise.

Jared bites down on his lip, and turns sheepishly around to find Jensen standing behind him, a wide grin of amusement on his face. "My hero?"

"Damn right," Jared agrees, fighting embarrassment. "If that cat had been packing, you'd be kissing my ass right now. Speaking of which-Isis?"

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, smile dropping from his face to be replaced by a scowl.

Jared is about to ask what's going on, but he's distracted by the cat that's made a beeline for him, and is now winding his way between his ankles, pausing occasionally to rub his face against the raised heel of his shoe. "Huh, friendly." Jared drops down onto his haunches and holds his fingers out. Isis, however, needs barely any coaxing and immediately butts the soft fur of his forehead against his hands. Jared chuckles and scratches his fingers gently down under the cat's pointed little chin. Isis's huge green orbs of eyes drop closed in ecstasy, heart-shaped face tilting upward as a loud buzz-saw of a purr escapes him. "Really friendly," Jared revises, and looks up when Jensen makes a snorting sound.

"What?" Jared asks, rising to his feet. "Is this unusual?"

"No." Jensen shakes his head, and then changes it midway into a nod. "Well, maybe a little. Right now though, he's just trying to prove a point," he says, eyes narrowed on the cat who seems to be giving Jensen an unnecessarily wide berth as he abandons Jared's attentions to make his way across the room and leap lightly up onto the bed like he's on springs.

"He is?" Jared asks, but in truth he's not overly surprised; Sadie and Harley often seem almost human in their moods, especially when he's had to kennel them when he's going out of town for any length of time.

"Yeah," Jensen growls. Isis hops off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. He doesn't immediately come back out. Jared tries not to worry that it means he's going to need new towels. "He found out recently that Isis is a girls name, so now he's pissed at me. I tried to tell him," he adds, voice raised pointedly loud, "that Isis was worshiped by millions as the protector of the dead and goddess of nature and magic," his voice drops back to normal levels, "but he's just focusing on the female part."

Huh. Okay, that's a little... odder. Until Jared remembers the current fashion for carrying around tiny pets in designer luggage, the women generally treating their animals better than they do humans, and Jensen's anthromorphizing of his pet isn't quite as weird. Plus he pretty much regards his dogs as his kids, so he's not really in a position to judge either way.

"Um, sorry man?" Jared offers a little uncertainly. "I'm sure he'll get over it soon."

"Yeah." Jensen nods, and then leans in a little closer. "As long as he doesn't find out I actually named him after Catwoman's favorite cat, who is also female," he whispers, "because then the shit will really hit the fan."

Jared can't quite hold back his snort of laughter, and Jensen glances up at him uncertainly. In that second, his eyes are huge, as green and glowing as his cats, mouth slightly open, lips dry and a little cracked, and Jared is suddenly hit with the desire to duck down and capture them with his own. The urge is unexpected, but there's no immediate rejection, and he's actually bending down toward Jensen when he feels a tug at the hem of jeans. He gaze drops and catches on a pair of matching green eyes. Isis lets out a soft, questioning chirp, and the spell is broken.

Needing a moment to pull himself together, Jared bends down and scoops Isis up. Used as he is to Sadie and Harley's bulk, the cat is impossibly fragile in his hands, almost weightless. Isis settles fearlessly easily against him, his unblinking gaze mysterious and knowing and fixed intently on Jared.

"Traitor," Jensen mutters beside him. Snuggled contentedly in Jared's arms, Isis purrs.



Jared's tour of the house finishes in the kitchen. He'd given Jensen a chance to settle into his room while he dashed back down to attempt to hide the evidence of his battle with the pizza. The microwave, however, is a lost cause in the short amount of time he has, so he throws the cheese encrusted spatula and scissors inside, and slams the door shut; he'll tell Jensen it's broken.

It's while Jensen is studying the contents of the fridge that a thought occurs to Jared that sends ice crawling through his veins. "Shit, Jensen, I never thought-I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if this was going to be a problem for you, y'know with a... boyfriend?"

Jensen closes the fridge and moves across the room to duck his head into the door that leads to the laundry room. "Oh, no, no problem. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

"Okay. Okay, that's good," Jared says. Perhaps a little too happily, because Jensen turns back toward him, eyebrows raised curiously. Jared winces, and rushes into speech. "Not good that you're alone, obviously, just good that there's no heartbroken boy waiting at home."

"Boy? Dude, I'm not twelve," Jensen mutters. "Also, I definitely won't be missing the kind of men I usually date."

"Jerks?"

"Jerks," Jensen confirms. "It's all about total instant gratification with war- ah, the, um, the guys in my... community. It's another reason why I decided to come here; I don't want that anymore. I'm ready for a change."

"Wait, you're dating women now?" Jared squawks, the recent almost kiss uppermost in his mind. He wonders if Jensen would have kissed him back. He wonders if Jensen realized what he'd been about to do.

"No, not women," Jensen says, staring at Jared as though he's a moron. "Because that's pretty much the fundamental principle of gayness; no girls allowed. Unless you're a girl, in which case... you know what? I think you've probably got the concept from here, but feel free to shout out if anything isn't clear."

"Man, you are such a dick-"

"You know," Jensen interrupts, his tone thoughtful. "I'm feeling very downtrodden right now. In fact, I've been doing some reading, and I think this may actually be a hostile work environment."

"I'm so sorry," Jared says, forehead wrinkling with concern. "That was very wrong of me. You aren't a dick, Jensen. You're an enormous dick."

Jensen nods graciously. "See? How was that hard?"

"Not hard at all. Thanks for making me a better boss."

"Thank you for wanting to be a better boss."

Jared stretches out his leg and aims a small kick at Jensen's ankle. "Yeah, so if we could back up a little; my point was what exactly does a change entail if you're not, um, putting in a transfer request?"

Jensen shrugs. "Danni's been telling me for years it's different here."

"I'm not sure how true that is, Jen," Jared cautions. After all, he's kind of a prime example of the sort of man mothers warned their daughters about. He's not particularly proud of it, but he's never seen the sense in lying to himself either.

Jensen shrugs again. "I guess we'll see."

Jared scowls. Even from the little Jensen has said, it's obvious he's been burned in the past. Danni might think dating is better here than in their former life somehow, but then it's Danni; he can't imagine anyone getting the better of her, whatever the situation. Jensen is different, or maybe Jared just feels differently about him, but either way he doesn't want to watch Jensen wander into a new dating arena wearing borrowed, rose-tinted glasses. In fact, he's not sure he wants Jensen dating, period. He's just formulating his argument, when Jensen snaps his fingers in front of his face. From his expression, it's clear he's been waiting for a response for a while.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"I was just asking what it is I'm doing here? Is there a cleaning schedule or-"

"No!" Jared says in instant rejection. "Just... hire a service in, you don't have to-I don't need you to do that."

"Uh, okay so... what do you need me for? Cooking?"

Jared pauses, because seriously, he really needs to stop and think before this all gets more awkward than it is already. "Yeah, cooking. Or we could order in? No, that doesn't make sense. Cooking is fine and, um, keeping track of things around here; you know, the day staff, that kind of thing."

Jensen purses his lips, and then nods. "Okay, I can do that." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself, and Jared hesitates.

"You sure? Because you don't sound sure."

"Yeah, this is what I wanted." He nods again, more certainly this time. "It'll be good."

Jared's hoping the same thing. He's very aware though it's probably not for the same reason.



Jared has had a long-standing deal with his kitchen appliances whereby he agrees not to touch the huge, ridiculously expensive coffee machine and in return it doesn’t dispense foul tasting beverages at ass-o’clock in the morning. Instead, he’ll grab one of his largest mugs, dump in an ever-changing amount of instant coffee, two packs of sweetener, and a splash of milk, and he drinks the resulting scalding, gag-inducing brew while imagining what his first real coffee of the day will taste like. In truth, his instant coffee has tasted no worse than his experiments with the space-age coffee machine, but it does involve significantly less cleanup and steam burns.

Now that Jensen has moved in, the coffee situation has improved immensely. Unfortunately it's come with a trade-off-mostly in sleep.

Jared scrubs the heels of his hands into his stinging eyes in an attempt to improve his blurry vision. It's been a week of late nights introducing Jensen to his favorite movies, bars and video games, and increasingly early mornings when Jensen introduces Jared to his... unique style of food preparation.

This morning, he'd woken with a jolt to find Isis sitting on his pillow, glowing, green-eyed gaze fastened unblinkingly on Jared's face. His panicked yell had brought Sadie and Harley running, ready to protect their master. They'd circled the room frantically before ascertaining that the problem related to the tiny furry creature taking up a corner of his bed, and the rescue mission had turned instead into them fixing him with twin stares of canine contempt.

"C'mon, guys, don't look at me like that!" Jared groans, flopping back down into the previously warm comfort of his awesome bed that's now slightly tainted by his cowardice. Not that he's calling it that out loud. "I defy anyone not to be freaked out waking up to that." Sadie lets out a little wuff of what he decides is agreement, and exits the room. Jared turns on his side and glares over at the cat who looks back at him unimpressed. "Have you been here all night? Wait, how did you even get in? I'm sure my door was closed last night," he mutters, trying to think back. "Pretty sure."

"If you're planning on lying there till you get an answer," Jensen voice comes from the foot of the bed, "we're going to need to look into moving the bathroom closer to the bed."

Jared jumps and lets out another strangled yell, and this time Isis is offended enough by the ruckus to hop lightly down off the bed. Harley, who knows full well he isn't allowed on the bed, is delighted by the move and dances happily around the cat, lowering his head to drop a welcoming lick to Isis's head. Unfortunately, Harley's tongue and Isis's head are about the same size; Isis lets out a hissing warning at the drool attack, and stalks out of the door, tail thrashing angrily behind him. Harley's head droops at the rebuke, and he follows behind at a respectful distance.

"So it was you that let him in?" Jared turns to Jensen to demand. "You do know I have an alarm clock, right? I don't need an extra one on legs." The room is dark, shadows lurking in the corners, and the only real light is coming from the open doorway he can't quite see from his current supine position. Jensen sinks down onto the bed beside him, and Jared is abruptly grateful that he's wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt. The mixture of Jensen, soft sheets and even softer lighting is having a confusing effect on Jared's currently half-asleep mind.

He wants to reach over the few inches separating them and pull Jensen down beside him, wrestle him into position so he can use him as a human pillow to catch a few more hours sleep wrapped tight around him, and then later, when his head isn't buzzing with exhaustion, tire them both out in entirely more pleasant ways.

"I know," Jensen says, jolting Jared out of his daydream. Jared reaches down with studied casualness to rearrange the sheets over his hardening cock, not willing to trust the gloom to hide the effects the images of Jensen naked and spread out across his bed have caused. He wonders if he'd be more freaked out if he wasn't so damn tired. Jensen's next words though manage to distract him totally from the much more pleasant fantasy world he's been inhabiting: "But it won't be going off for a few more hours yet."

A few more hours? Jared lurches up to snatch his cell phone from the bedside table-checking out the time on his actual alarm clock would involve leaning over Jensen, too risky given his current half aroused state-and pulls it toward him. He has to blink twice before he's sure he's not misreading what he sees. "Four AM?" he asks anyway, just to be sure.

Jensen glances at his bare wrist, frowns and then nods. "Um, yeah, probably about that."

"Is the house on fire?"

"What? No. I mean, there was a small fire earlier." He lifts his hand from where it's resting on the bed, tantalizingly close to Jared's thigh, and holds it up, thumb and forefinger bare millimeters apart to indicate how insignificant the fire apparently was. "But it was completely containable. And it's out now," he hurries to assure at Jared's small gasp of horror.

"Okay, well, that's... good, but what's with the early wake up call? Is there a problem? Did the studio call?"

"No, it's just," Jensen hesitates, apparently only then picking up on Jared's less than enthusiastic reception. "Breakfastisready," he finishes in a rush.

"Jen, it's four AM. I, we, went to bed like two hours ago," Jared says as calmly as he can manage. He's naturally an early riser, his personal trainer has told him he has a near perfect circadian rhythm, up and ready for exercise with the dawn, but this was nowhere near dawn, and exercise, apart from one, very specific, Jensen-related, form of exercise, is the last thing on his mind right now. The only thing less appealing, in fact, is food.

"I made coffee," Jensen says hopefully.

At his words, Jared's nose abruptly picks up the aroma of deep, rich coffee that he knows from experience will be sweet and hot with the perfect amount of cream, and just a hint of vanilla. He blinks when Jensen holds out the mug, but the questions are a lot less important than taking his first sip of the day. He feels significantly more mellow immediately after, and scoots up in the bed to rest against the pillows piled behind him.

"Thanks," he says, and sighs when Jensen continues to watch him. "Okay, give me five minutes and I'll be down."

Jensen leaps to his feet, beaming grin on his face. In the distance, a smoke detector begins to shrill.



By the time Jared has joined Jensen in the kitchen, the second, apparently equally containable fire, is nowhere in evidence. What is apparent, is that Jensen has used every cooking pot and utensil that Jared owns, and several that he didn't know he did, all of which are spread over every single inch of the counter-top.

The juicer has been running since he sat down, no end in sight, until with a small pop and the smell of burnt-out electronics, it grinds to a halt. There's a few muttered curses, and then a glass with a dribble of juice appears at Jared's elbow. Jared picks it up, shoots a smile of thanks at Jensen who's watching him worriedly, and lifts it to his lips. The orange juice is bitter and mostly pulp, so he has the unpleasant sensation of chewing when he expected to be drinking, and for a worrying second the pulp refuses to go down at all. He swallows manfully and looks up to find Jensen watching him anxiously.

"Thanks, Jen. It's good."

Jensen lets out a sigh of relief. "It's fresh squeezed," he says, already moving over to the stove and a pan that's spitting furiously. "Sorry there wasn't much. I could probably make more," he says, brows creased in concentration.

"No," Jared says hurriedly. Jensen glances sharply over at him, and Jared smiles. "Don't want to be too full for breakfast." He pats his morning-sensitive stomach gingerly to show he's serious.

"Right, great," Jensen says, "and speaking of which..." He spins round, a serving platter in his hand that's about the size of a garbage can lid, that he places in front of Jared with a flourish.

Jared stares down at the mountain of food; bacon, sausages, eggs (scrambled and fried), steak, potatoes, ham and pancakes are all arranged haphazardly on the plate, swimming happily in oil. He takes his fork to probe gently at the tip of the mountain where all the most burnt breakfast meats seem to have congregated, and then lifts an edge of a gooey pancake midway down to discover a piece of raw bacon peeping back at him.

"Wow, this is a... lot of food," he says, trying to surreptitiously urge the bacon back into the middle of the pile.

"Yeah, I had some problems with portion size initially," Jensen says cheerfully, because apparently he considers he's found the perfect ratio now of man to meat, "and my timings were a little off the past couple of days, too," he reminds. "That's why I decided to get an early start today. I think it really paid off."

"Definitely," Jared says. He glances at the clock high up on the kitchen wall. It's almost 4:30 now. He has to leave for the studio at 8:00. "Um, aren't you having any?"

"Nah." Jensen slides into the chair beside him, a sturdy, earthenware mug of tea in his hand. "I'm not really a big breakfast eater," he says, eying Jared's plate with satisfaction. "Not like you."

Jared sighs and takes a firmer grip on his fork, willing his stomach to cooperate.

A sound provides a welcome diversion, and Jared turns to watch Harley pad in through the open french doors, water glistening on his coat from the light drizzle that's falling. Isis is sitting on his back. He looks like a tiny furry general, riding into battle on an equally furry horse.

"Jensen," Jared uses his fork to point over at the two of them. "Is your cat riding my dog?"

Jensen spares them a brief glance, obviously far more interested in watching Jared traverse Mount Doom. "No. He's a cat, he can't ride. How would he hold the reins?"

"I'm sorry, is your cat balancing on my dog?" Jared waits, eyebrows raised for Jensen to catch up.

There must be something in his tone that alerts Jensen, because he straightens, looking back over at Isis and Harley to examine the scene much more closely this time. "I-that's a thing, right? Dogs and cats do this kind of stuff all the time?"

"What? Ride each other around the house? Uh, no, not often. In fact, I'm gonna have to go with never."

"Oh, you little..." Jensen trails off into furious muttering, and raises an accusing finger to his pet. "Get off the freaking dog, you trouble-making little-" He stands up, and Harley, always up for a game of chase, makes a dash for door, Isis hanging on with no discernible effort, and Jensen hot on their heels.

When he's sure they're out of sight, Jared jumps to his feet and grabs his plate. He has a lot of food to hide.



"Jen, you here?" Jared calls out as soon as he enters the house. Jensen's answering response comes from the kitchen and Jared suppresses an instinctive shudder. Balancing the pile of slippery, glossy car magazines in his hand, he shuts the door and reluctantly heads toward the back of the house. Thankfully, he can detect no smells of cooking, or the more usual burning, along the way, and he enters the room to find Jensen seated at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea next to him and Jared's laptop open in front of him.

"Hey, great, you decided to brave it at last! How're you getting on?" he asks, pleased. He's been trying for a few days to convince Jensen to at least try using the computer, but so far Jensen has been reluctant, insisting he doesn't need it.

"Okay," Jensen says, reaching up as if he's going to snap the lid closed, when a familiar voice calls out from the speakers:

"Hey, Jared!" Jared walks around behind Jensen's chair, and drops his hands down onto Jensen's shoulders to peer down at the image filling the screen.

"Danni? Wow, Jen," he adds, surprised and maybe a tiny bit disappointed that Danni is the one who's been helping Jensen figure things out. "Looks like you really got he hang of this quick."

Jensen shrugs, and Jared can feel the muscles in his arms bunch and shift with the movement. He presses his fingers deeper into the surprisingly tense muscles and Jensen breathes deep, and then lets his head loll back until it's almost resting on Jared's midsection. A small cough reminds him they aren't alone, and Jared freezes and forces himself to pull slowly away. For a moment, he has no idea what to do with his hands so he stuffs them both into his pockets. It's uncomfortable, and he know he looks stiff and unnatural, so he backs up a few paces and attempts a nonchalant lean against the center island.

The new position doesn't help, and now Jared just feels like he's about to drop into a Zoolander pose. The only consolation is that Jensen won't know what that is, so he forces himself to grit his teeth and hang in there.

"I was just looking up your movies," Jensen says, a little guiltily. "Danni was helping."

"Hey, by the time I showed up, Jensen was managing fine all on his own," Danni says, a half grin on her lips. "I told him, he wouldn't believe how much information is out there with just a few quick clicks."

Jared jerks upright, and nearly overbalances when he discovers that at some point his hands have curled into two tight fists in his pockets that won't come out now. His brain goes into panic mode trying to figure out what exactly Jensen would have found by Googling his name, and he curses himself for pushing Jensen to go online in the first place. Not that he has anything to hide exactly, but the gossip sites hadn't been particularly forgiving of his numerous break-ups, and Jared's the first to admit that he hasn't always used the best judgment in all his relationships, or in his photoshoots. Oh, crap, his photoshoots.

All attempts at a casual sprawl forgotten, he yanks his hands free and strides over to drag out the chair next to Jensen. Jensen shoots him a surprised glance, but he pretends not to notice as he busies himself finding the minimized web page and reaches over to scroll down it with the mouse. The screen opens up to reveal that the first open tab is the IMDb, which is mostly fine, although the message boards before he stopped reading them always seemed to contain a very special brand of crazy. The second tab opens to a search engine he doesn't recognize: Witchfinder General, complete with a tiny witch roving across the top of the page wearing purple, sparkling robes and a deerstalker. It's otherwise set out a lot like Google, so the search results are topped by images of him, all in varying degrees of undress, and then directly underneath it-

Jared closes the browser, and sits back in his chair. "Cool," he forces himself to say into the silence that's fallen. "Just, uh, checking you found me."

"Yeah," Danneel says, but her voice is more gentle teasing than mocking, "because Padalecki is such a common name."

A cup is pushed into his hand, and Jared glances up to find Jensen watching him. "Thanks," he says, welcoming the warmth. He takes a sip, and glances back over at the laptop. Danneel is back to being fullscreen, although he doesn't actually remember doing it. She's wearing a red satin robe that keeps sliding artfully from one shoulder, and she's petting a familiar blue-black bundle of fur.

"Hey," Jared says, leaning forward. "Is that-wow, that cat looks just like Isis."

Jensen shakes his head. "Yeah, same litter," he says quickly, "different cat."

The cat lets out a chirruping sound and stands up, only to lose his footing on the slippery surface of Danni's robe. He makes another, much louder protesting sound, and Harley appears in the open doorway, announcing his arrival with a deep bark. He dashes across the room, jumping up at the last second so that his paws are resting on the edge of the table, head cocked and sniffing at the air frantically.

Jared watches confused as the cat gives another little chirrup and crouches low, entire rear end swaying as if he's readying himself to pounce.

"I think we'd better cut this short, guys," Danni says, and reaches forward to grab the Isis-alike, who hisses. The sound sets Harley off who begins howling mournfully and scrabbling to actually get up on the table. By the time Jared has managed to coax him down, Danni is gone and Jensen is closing the laptop lid.

"Sorry, boy," Jensen says, scratching Harley's head. The dog gives one last mournful whine and slinks under the table to rest his head across Jensen's feet.

"I guess Danni's cat sounded like Isis as well as looking like him," Jared says thoughtfully. His dog has become rather embarrassingly attached to Jensen's cat, to the point that Jensen had given in and placed Isis's cat bed in Harley and Sadie's room. Apparently it was easier than having all three animals in with him every night. Unfortunately, Harley's devotion didn't seem to be entirely returned, and when Isis went on one of his walkabouts that often lasted hours or whole days, Harley was left wandering the house morosely. Lately, it had gotten so bad that not even his honking pheasant could console him. In fact, if he'd been a human, and Isis wasn't an entirely different species, Jared would have said he was in love.

Sometimes, he worries that his own behavior with Jensen is a little too like Harley's for comfort.

"Must have," Jensen says dismissively, but he reaches out his hand to rub soothing fingers along Harley's fur, until the dog looks calmer, if not totally settled.

Seeing that Jensen's mug is almost empty, and that he's currently trapped by Harley's moping head, Jared goes over to the stove for the tea kettle. He grabs a fresh mug and one of the weird teas that Jensen favors and digs out a lemon wedge from the fridge. When he gets back to the table, mug balanced carefully in his hand, Jensen has the magazines and brochures fanned out in front of him.

"Shopping for a new car?" Jensen asks, flicking through the closest one.

"No, it's my sister's graduation in a couple of weeks and I'm getting her a car. I thought you could help me whittle down the choices."

"I can't drive and I know nothing about cars," Jensen points out. "So you were wise to come to me for advice."

"Don't be a smartass; I don't need you to repair it or chauffeur her around in it, just help me pick out the one most likely to appeal to a teenage girl."

"You know being gay doesn't make me a girl, right? Because that's kind of un-PC thinking, dude."

"I know, but you're so pretty and sparkly." Jared grins and pushes the mug forward in apology. "It makes it hard to remember sometimes."

"I prefer 'handsome' or 'dashing' in a pinch, but pretty is also acceptable," Jensen says begrudgingly.

"Duly noted."

"Okay," Jensen says, frowning down at an open page, "so, there's a lot to choose from here. Hasn't she ever mentioned what kind of car she'd like?"

"Um, I'm not-we don't really talk all that much," Jared admits.

"You don't?"

"We didn't grow up together." Jared crosses his arms across his chest, and feels himself sitting straighter in his seat. "We're family and we love each other, but I guess we don't have that shared history siblings usually do."

"I'm sorry, that must be tough. My family is close-too close, sometimes, but I can't imagine what it would be like not to have them around."

"Yeah, well, it is what it is."

"Did you ever wish it was different? That you'd just had a normal childhood?"

"It nearly was," Jared says, then holds his breath as Jensen reaches for his tea. He feels a little jolt of pride when Jensen takes a sip and nods his approval. "When Meg was eight, she got sick," he says, the warm feeling of pleasure from moments ago abruptly draining away. "Up till then, Mom was traveling with me most of the time, on modeling assignments, TV sets, that kind of thing, and my dad and aunt Clare looked after Meg and Jeff. We came home though as soon as we knew. At first, it was just supposed to be for a couple of weeks until she got better. No one realized how ill she was, and by the time we found out, there was no way my mom would leave her."

"What about you?"

"Everything got put on hold; I went back to school, we concentrated on Meg getting well, on keeping each other afloat. But then the hospital bills started coming, and the insurance wouldn't cover it all. My folks tried to pretend we were okay, but Jeff and me knew it was getting bad. We were close to losing our house when I got offered a show of my own. I won't bother telling you what it was," Jared says, fond grin briefly tilting his lips, "but it was a huge career break. Before that, it'd just been bit parts on other people's shows, so it was a big deal, not just because of the money. We couldn't turn it down."

"Wait, how old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Shit, you did that on your own?"

"Pretty much. I mean, we had to hire a chaperone because I wasn't old enough to be legally emancipated then."

"That's just-I can't-"

"It was worth it," Jared says quietly. "The money, what we could do with it. It was worth it."

"Yeah," Jensen says. He reaches over and pats Jared's shoulder. His hand lingers, cupping the curve of bone and muscle. The warmth of the touch travels down Jared's arm and warms him from the inside. "They're lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have them. Really lucky," Jared says, remembered terror that they were going to lose Meg roughening his voice.

"Jay," Jensen begins, and Jared tenses. He tells himself he doesn't know why. "On the computer, I wasn't looking, I swear, but I saw some stuff from back from when you were a kid. About your agent."

Jared considers lying for a second, telling Jensen the Internet's filled with crap, which it is, and downplaying the whole thing as no big deal, which it wasn't. But Jensen would know. He might not call him on it, but he'd know. Jared stands, takes a few steps with no real destination in mind, and then circles the table to sink back down onto the chair he's just vacated.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that was pretty messed up; not long after the first episode aired, my agent was arrested. His agency represented a lot of child actors back then, so it was big news. A couple of his old clients had come forward. They were adults by then, and said they were going public about what his... commission actually was."

"Fuck, Jared, fuck," Jensen, mutters. "What happened?"

Jared taps his foot against Jensen's ankle, and Jensen leans in to him. It helps a little. "Well, first off, my mom freaked out," Jared says. "She came swooping down and threatened to pull me off the show. Actually, she kicked up such a stink the network were close to dropping me even without all the news stories springing up and making it worse."

"Worse?"

Jared nods. "When shit like that starts flying around, the network's first reaction is to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the bad publicity. When it's a kids' show and there's suddenly the possibility the twelve-year-old star is going to start making some revelations of his own, they don't even want to be in the same hemisphere."

"God, it was true? The things they said about him?"

"I don't know," Jared says, eyes dropping to trace the patterns he's swirling through the coffee cup ring on the table. He really should use a coaster. "It never went to court. He had a stroke while he was out on bail, and never regained consciousness. He died a few weeks later."

"No, not what they said," Jensen shakes his head. Jared notices distantly he looks unwell, pale and sickly under the harsh kitchen lights. "I was asking about you. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing. I mean nothing really. He was creepy, and okay maybe sometimes he said some stuff... Anyway, right up until Meg got sick, my mom was with me pretty much all the time, so whatever might have happened-" Jared pushes the chair away from the table, away from Jensen. "Look, this is stupid. Nothing happened; no point dragging up ancient history."

Jensen nudges his own chair closer, ducks his head so he can see Jared's face. "What about after Meg got sick?"

"Fuck," Jared hisses. "You just can't-nothing happened, okay? He just got a little more...detailed in the stuff he was saying, and sometimes he got a bit handsy, but, seriously, that's it."

"How often were you alone with him?"

Jared considers protesting again, but Jensen is focused on him with laser-like intensity. He doesn't think anything short of an explosion is going to distract him, and even then only long enough to dig themselves free of the rubble. "Enough," he finally says. "When my career took off we had more meetings, coaching sessions, sometimes just going over lines. Nothing happened, I mean, nothing more than I already told you. He was old by then, too old I guess and, I think as far as he was concerned, so was I."

Jensen shakes his head. His lips are set in a thin, tight line, and there's a dull flush of heat edging his cheekbones. Jared absently notes it really brings out the color of his eyes. "What did you tell the cops?"

Jared startles. "Are you kidding? I told you about my mom-if I'd come forward, said anything... Man, the show would have been toast for sure. Hell, I probably wouldn't have worked again or not till I got past that awkward, illegal stage anyway."

"Wait, your family went along with it?"

"What? No, I didn't tell them any of this. I-I've never told anyone," he says slowly, that fact somehow escaping him till then. He'd always told himself it was no big deal, that Monroe had been a fucking pervert, sure, but Jared had been spared any real damage. Lucky, compared with the kids who went before him.

As an adult, Jared could view Monroe and his filthy mouth and wandering hands, aged and weak, as laughable and pathetic. As a child, it had been terrifying. He'd believed for the longest time the insidious whispers; he can still remember every single one. It had taken years before he could push them out of his mind whenever he felt a flare of attraction, years before sex and the sensations of dirty and wrong didn't have to be navigated as cautiously as an icebound mountain pass.

Now though, he wonders if he ever really overcame it or if he just buried it deep enough that he could fool himself into believing it never happened at all.

"I'm glad you told me," Jensen says, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Jared says. He feels lighter, stupidly giddy. "Yeah, me too."

"I just wish you hadn't had to deal with it on your own, that your sister didn't get sick, that I'd known you then-" Jensen pauses, and then shakes his head. "Never mind. If wishes were thrushes, right?"

"Thanks, man. For what it's worth, I wish I'd known you then, too. And it's horses."

"What?"

"The saying-it's if wishes were horses, not thrushes."

"Not the version I know, but yeah, if wishes were horses, I'd make sure I transformed him on gelding day. No, strike that," Jensen says, eyes flashing like green fire. If he'd had a tail like Isis, Jared's pretty sure it would have been flicking furiously side to side behind him, "glue factory day."

"Thanks, Jen," he says. "For-y'know, everything, and also for keeping your threats appropriately magically themed."

Jensen blinks, looks up at him, and the fire banks, glowing warm now, but not dangerously hot. "Any time, man, any time."

Chapter 4