Jays2 (12/?)
Title: Jays2 (12/?)
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings (overall): Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’ (wait, what kind of warning is that?)
Word Count: ~ 3,850
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos, the Toronto Star, or Rogers Sportsnet. This is for fun, not profit.
A/N: Umm...*bites lip* I’ll just wait over there... *Runs for cover*
Enjoy! Comments = Love!
Summary: In the aftermath of an epic kiss, the Texas Rangers breeze into town, too bad that it's upon an ill-wind.
( 1 ), ( 2 ), ( 3 ), ( 4 ), ( 5 ), ( 6 ), ( 7 ), ( 8 ), ( 9 ), ( 10 ), ( 11 )
TWELVE: IT’S NOT PERSONAL, IT’S BUSINESS
Jared practically shoved Jensen into his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, just as Jensen said, “Asshole.” They stared at each other for about ten seconds before their faces broke out into almost identical, maniacal grins.
“You with me?” Jensen asked, holding out his fist.
Jared’s fist bumped his. “All the way, baby.”
|*|*|*|
About an hour later, everyone saw the adoration on their faces as they leaned into each other, but no one saw the mischievous glint in Jared’s eye or the roguish quirk to Jensen’s mouth just before Jared cupped his face and kissed him.
About two minutes after that, they pulled apart as they heard the front door close with a quiet snick. They shared a look, mouths valiantly fighting the urge to smile, before Jared snorted and Jensen lost it, and they collapsed against each other, laughing uproariously.
“We’re so hot, we totally turned them on,” Jared smirked at him when they could breathe and talk at the same time again.
“Totally. All of them, too,” Jensen had to agree. There was no need to mention that he was a little turned on too. No need at all. “Halo?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jared went to the television to set up the game while he cleared away some of the empty bottles from around the living room. When Jensen settled down on the couch next to him, Jared turned to him in consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10.”
“Six.”
Jared sputtered indignantly. “A six? That’s insulting! I’m insulted!”
“And I’m being honest,” Jensen insisted, not quite meeting his friend’s eyes, “there’s room for improvement.”
“Improvement?” Jared looked comically outraged and Jensen tried his damndest to keep it together. “Dude, girls have swooned at my feet after I’m done with them! Do you hear me, Jen? They’ve swooned.”
“I think the whole floor heard you, man,” Jensen bit his lip to keep from smiling at the pout on Jared’s face. “All right, maybe a seven.”
“I don’t want your pity point! I demand a do-over.”
“Demand away, doesn’t mean you’re gonna get...” Jensen was cut off by Jared glomming onto him, his wide mouth latching onto Jensen’s as he smothered him into the couch, kissing him senseless.
Jensen tried not to react to it. This was a guy was kissing him after all. And the guy was Jared, of all people. This was ridiculous. And maybe a little hot. But mostly it was ridiculous. He was pretty positive, and when he was able to breathe again, he was going to revisit that debate.
Jared pulled off with a soft plop. “Well?”
“Eight.”
“Eight? That was an eleven and you know it!” He yelled hysterically, ready to argue his point when he suddenly stopped, narrowing his eyes at Jensen. “Okay, hotshot. You think you can do better?”
“Dude, I know I can do better,” Jensen spoke before thinking. That was a rather common occurrence in conversations with Jared. Still, a challenge had been issued, and how could he not rise to it? “Pucker up, princess.”
“Oh no, I did my bit, now you do all the work. I’m not gonna...”
Jensen kissed him. Really just to shut him up. It was a highly effective manoeuvre. Huh. He wondered if he could get away with shutting Jared up like this on a regular basis. The idea had its merits. Also, there was the kissing itself. Because the kissing wasn’t bad. So there were side-benefits to the shutting up. Pleasant, tingly side-benefits.
He pulled back, and merely raised a questioning brow at his challenger.
“Meh.”
“Meh?”
Jared shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh.”
Well, that was just unacceptable.
He fisted his hands in Jared’s t-shirt and yanked him close, their chests colliding as he covered Jared’s mouth with his, cutting off Jared’s sound of surprise with his tongue. Jared hadn’t used his tongue, but Jensen was way more devious than Jared, and decided to employ his entire kissing arsenal. It was all about winning after all and Jensen liked to win. The kissing itself was superfluous, and had nothing to do with anything else, except that he was like any other red-blooded male - he liked to kiss - and he maybekindasorta liked kissing Jared, but that was irrelevant right now. There was a distinct possibility it may become relevant at a later time, but Jensen didn’t dwell on that.
No, Jensen just focused on kissing Jared... er, on winning. On winning this kissing competition. But how was he supposed to take control when Jared’s tongue was suddenly in his mouth? When had that happened? Jensen pushed at Jared’s tongue with his own, and the duel began.
En garde.
Thrust, parry, riposte, retreat, feint, reprise. Sometimes with Jared dominating, and sometimes with Jensen getting the upper hand. Someone moaned. Jensen thought it might have been him, but he couldn’t be sure, not when Jared was sucking on his tongue like it was a popsicle.
He didn’t know how long they had been at it, but somewhere along the line, the kiss changed. It was no longer a battle for bragging rights. Instead, it became something hotter, slower, softer, sweeter.
It became a make-out session.
And it lasted until they both kind of dozed off on the couch just like that: arms entwined, legs entangled, pressed up close and very personal, breaths mingling, bodies snuggling close, both of them far too comfortable to move.
“That was like a twenty,” Jensen whispered on a sigh.
“Yeah, better than ‘meh’,” Jared agreed breathlessly, “more like ‘hallelujah’.”
|*|*|*|
“So you knew?” Tom asked in exasperation.
“Uh huh,” Jensen smirked.
“And you played us?” Chad demanded.
“Yup,” Jared grinned.
“Shit,” Mike shook his head as Chad smacked his own face with his palm.
“I kissed dudes for you assholes,” Chad whined and Jared laughed.
“We know...”
Jensen chuckled, “Yeah, we were there. It was very entertaining.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh well,” Mike muttered, “back to square one.”
“Oh no,” Tom argued, “I’ve had enough of your brilliant ideas!”
“If I recall correctly, that part was your brilliant idea...” Mike’s voice trailed off as he and Tom walked away. Chad groaned and thumped his head against his locker a couple of times.
Jared playfully bumped shoulders with Jensen as they stood by their lockers, and Jensen winked at him, a blush staining his cheeks. It was five hundred kinds of adorable, and Jared had to stifle the urge to sigh like a girl. He settled for throwing his arm around his best friend, hauling him close, and kissing the top of his head, because: one, he could; and two, he couldn’t resist. He squeezed a little harder when Jensen all but melted into his side.
“Texas in da house tonight,” Jared said, mostly to distract himself from kissing Jensen, and from thinking about kissing Jensen.
Christ. He was so fucked.
Jensen smiled and opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the clubhouse door banging open and a booming voice calling out, “Welcome back, boys!”
Both of them grinned as Jays GM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, strode into the room as if he owned the place - which he didn’t but he was their badass boss, so he had the run of the place. Kripke smiled and held out his hand to the other man.
“Krip! You look relaxed,” JD smirked, shaking the manager’s hand and slapping him on the back.
“I haven’t had to see your ugly mug for over a week, so... yeah,” Kripke grinned right back, and JD chuckled before addressing the room. “Hope everyone enjoyed their break. Tom, Mike - great innings pitched at the All Star Game.”
Tom and Mike called out their thanks and JD took a moment to chat with the coaches before there was a knock on the door and one of his assistants poked his head inside. He nodded at the GM and JD turned to look at Jensen, a broad smile on his face as he approached them.
“We have talked on many an occasion,” he told a slightly bemused Jensen, “but never once did you mention that you were one of the Texas Ackleses.”
Jensen stilled beside him, the reaction so odd that Jared was immediately concerned. He could see Jensen’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.
“What do you mean?” he asked JD, his voice deeper, gruff, and a little cold. Jared blinked in surprise.
JD didn’t know Jensen well enough to notice anything unusual about his behaviour, so he just plowed on. “Got a surprise for you,” JD winked and bellowed at everyone else. “Get decent, women up!” Since most of the team was already in uniform, there was no real movement, everyone a little too interested by JD’s cryptic remark about Jensen. The Texas Ackleses? Even Jared was curious.
Then the clubhouse door opened and a large man walked in looking like the epitome of a Texan oilman: suit, bolero tie, and Stetson. It would have made Jared a little homesick had it not been for the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach at the blanched look on Jensen’s face.
“Gentlemen,” JD called out, “I’d like you all to meet GM and owner of the Texas Rangers, Jed Harris.” Introductions to the coaches were quickly made but it wasn’t long before the man turned to Jensen with a smile on his round, ruddy face.
“You just gonna stand there, boy?”
Jensen moved out from under Jared’s arm, but it wasn’t his usual lithe, easy motions. He seemed so wooden. Jared wanted to pull him back and hug him close and then get him the hell out of the clubhouse. Jensen shook the other man’s hand as he got patted on the back.
“Looking good, son,” Harris told him with a smile, and Jensen quietly thanked him, but just then the clubhouse door opened again and a group of people filed in. Jensen’s face broke out into a genuine smile.
“Momma,” he went up to a beautiful older lady and pulled her into a hug.
“Jensen, it’s so good to see you, baby.”
“Good to see you too, Momma. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I didn’t know until the last possible minute,” Jensen’s mother told him, and even Jared could tell from the tight, forced smile on her face that she wasn’t happy about that. “Think of it as a surprise.”
Jensen nodded in seeming understanding and looked at the man and young woman who stood behind his mother. He kissed the girl on the cheek and shook the man’s hand; his actions cursory and dutiful. “Mackenzie, Joshua.” They both murmured rote responses, and what in hell was going on, Jared wondered. With the exception of Jensen’s greeting to his mother, he had never seen the other man act so cold. Not since the day they had first met, anyway, and even that had lasted just ten minutes, tops.
“Jensen,” Harris gripped him tightly by the shoulder, and was about to say something when the door opened again and a drop-dead gorgeous redhead walked in. Chad gasped at his side and Jared had to whack him on the stomach to keep him quiet. Harris beamed as he looked at the immaculately dressed woman who, quite frankly looked like a supermodel. An exceedingly bored supermodel. Jared felt every shackle in his body rise as she sauntered close to Jensen.
“Danneel,” Jensen murmured, so quietly that Jared wouldn’t have heard it had he not been standing nearby. “When did you get back?” He asked, leaning in to perfunctorily kiss the fuschia-pink lips that she tilted up at him. She smiled and shrugged delicately.
“I had a photo-shoot in New York, and Daddy asked me to fly up here for the game...”
“Plus, I thought we could celebrate the fact that we’ve finally decided on a date,” Harris told him.
And if Jensen had been acting weird before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked now. It was as if a mask had fallen across his face, every line of his body tense. He looked at his mother.
“I didn’t know,” she muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. He nodded curtly.
“Did you not know either, Jensen?” Harris asked, his brow furrowed.
“I wasn’t...” Jensen was cut off when the door opened and three other people walked in, and Jared hadn’t thought it possible but Jensen’s form became even more rigid, “... informed,” he finished.
“Alan,” Harris addressed the new arrival who dragged his eyes away from his iPad with a questioning look. “Jensen didn’t know about the date being finalized.”
“Oh?” the man’s gaze flickered over to Jensen in an almost dismissive manner that annoyed Jared. “JR.”
“Sir.”
“You’re weak from the left side of the plate. Either improve your swing or quit claiming to be a switch-hitter,” the man sneered, as Jared bristled. Heck, the entire team bristled. Except for Jensen. Jensen just lowered his head.
“Yes, sir.”
“Margaret, I thought I asked you to send out a memo about the date?” He asked the harried looking woman next to him.
“I did, Mr. Ackles, I sent it to Alona,” she said turning a stern look to the younger woman standing next to her. Holy fucking shit, Jared suddenly realized; the man whose ass Jared really, really wanted to kick, was Jensen’s father. The woman - Alona’s - anxious gaze darted to Jensen, who merely nodded at her.
“Alona has been on vacation for the past two weeks...”
“That’s no excuse; her replacement should have taken care of it.”
“Considering my hiatus from the company,” Jensen told the older man, “I chose not to get a replacement, and we requested that Margaret inform me directly of any urgent matters.”
“Ah, well, I hadn’t classified this as urgent,” Jensen’s father brusquely informed him. “But we have had to do a lot of finagling to get this date, and everyone else has cleared their schedules, so you will accept it.”
Jensen’s mouth tightened but he just nodded. “What is the date?”
“December 22nd. You will report to headquarters as soon as you finish this baseball thing,” Ackles spat derisively, “Danneel will still be in Paris, so you’ll need to take care of a few legal matters personally.”
“Of course,” Jensen mumbled as his father re-focused his attention on the iPad in his hand. Harris cleared his throat.
“Well, good luck in the game tonight, son,” he patted Jensen’s shoulder, “we’ll be seeing you afterwards. We’re sitting in the owner’s box; come find us after the game. I’ve made dinner reservations at the Royal York Hotel.”
“As you wish.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Harris said far too jovially, “JD - why don’t you show us around this place? Oh, and Jensen...” he turned back, “feel free to invite your teammates to the wedding.” Jared started in shock as Chad gripped his shoulder.
Jensen didn’t even flinch. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take it under consideration.”
“Jensen,” Danneel turned to him just before leaving, “Jean-Marc is designing my dress, and I’ve convinced him to do your tux. My assistant needs to know exactly where you are so Jean-Marc’s people can find you to do the fittings. He has to do it now, because he’s be working on his summer line in the fall and he’ll be in hysterics, and I want all his focus on my dress.”
“Alona will know where to find me.”
Danneel nodded regally and then in a flurry of movement, suddenly the only visitor left was Alona, and she quietly walked up to Jensen. She reached out a hand to touch him but then changed her mind. Smart move, Jared thought to himself, for Jensen looked brittle, like he would shatter by touch alone.
“I’m so sorry, Jensen...”
Jensen blinked and took a deep breath. “You were on vacation; forget it. Why is he here?”
“A meeting with the Jacobson Group, which he wants you to attend. It’s tomorrow.”
“Richard Jacobson?”
“That’s him.”
“No wonder he wants me there. He’s a good friend of James Proctor.”
“Absolutely; Proctor recommended you, and just like him, Jacobson won’t deal with anyone else in the company. Also, Margaret was talking a mile a minute about the wedding arrangements, so there’s a lot of stuff I have to look through, not to mention the updates on the Proctor Report. Let me play catch up during the game and I’ll get back to you. Margaret reserved a room for you at the Royal York for the three nights that your family and the Harrises are in town...”
“That’s fine. Although I need a few things from my apartment.”
“I’ll take care of your personal items. Don’t worry about clothes. Danneel’s people have interviews set up so she can show you off, and you have an entire designer wardrobe at your disposal.”
Again, Jensen just nodded, his jaw so tense, it hardly moved as he spoke. “Are you rooming with Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Get your own room, but put it on my personal account.”
“Thank you, Jensen. I appreciate not having to share a room with that shrew.”
“No problem. Do you think you can give me a quick briefing tonight? I don’t want to go in blind tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Dinner reservations are late; I can meet you afterwards?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. I’m sorry for the late hour...”
“Anything for you, Jensen.”
“Text me with the details.”
“Will do,” Alona smiled up at him and turned to look at him just before walking out the door. “I like you from the left side. You’ve gotten better.”
Jensen didn’t even smile.
And that night, he played his worst game ever.
|*|*|*|
Jensen moved on automatic pilot, his every motion stiff, his mind miles from where it should be focused: on the game. The Jays had lost, and while he hadn’t been the sole reason for the loss, he had certainly played a key role in it, going 0-for-4 at the plate and committing an error on a routine ground out that allowed the Rangers to score a run.
He wished he could say he was happy to see his family, but in reality, he wasn’t. And that made him feel like a horrible person, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He really couldn’t bring himself to feel anything with the cold, hollow emptiness that had permeated his body ever since JD had referred to him as one of the Texas Ackleses.
The team gave him a wide berth after the game; he wasn’t surprised - they had all witnessed the Ackles Family hour and now he was probably being pitied for being that poor little rich kid, and God, how he hated that. He didn’t know how to face them again.
He didn’t know how to face Jared.
Jared. Who always knew when not to approach him, and he was so grateful for that; he felt so on edge right now, that the last thing he wanted to do was snap at his best friend.
Jensen shook his head to clear it as he approached the owner’s box, dread forming a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He just wanted to get through these three days with his dignity and his sanity still intact. He was surprised to see Alona and Margaret leave the box.
Alona came up to him as Margaret bustled away with an absent nod in his direction. “Everyone’s left for the hotel already to dress for dinner,” she informed him, “but your father is still here. He wants to talk to you alone.”
Jensen nodded tightly as Alona sighed and walked away.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” he got straight to the point when he walked into the owner’s box. Might as well get this over with; it might not be painless but it would be quick. He hoped.
“You gave up everything to play like that?” His father asked him, a sneer curling his lips, making him look ugly. Jensen mentally berated himself for thinking it, but it didn’t make it any less true. He held his tongue. “That was pathetic. You’re a disgrace to your team, just like you’re a disgrace to this family. Although, I can't really say I'm surprised.” He studied Jensen’s stoic features hoping to get some sort of reaction, but Jensen had had a lifetime of remaining impassive in the face of his father’s scathing insults; that wasn’t about to change any time soon. Too bad his armour had several chinks in it from disuse; each disparaging word hurt him. Finally, Alan Ackles spoke again. “Do you remember our deal?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One season in the majors, if you ever made it that far, and then you return to your rightful place in the company.”
“Yes, but...”
“There are no buts, JR. We had an agreement and you will stick to it. No extensions, no exceptions,” his father told him, his tone hard, his voice cold. “I’m counting on you to bring Jacobson on board. I know it’s too much to expect from you,” he stated caustically, “but try not to let me down this time.”
Jensen felt that jab too, this one sharp and deep, because it had a ring of truth to it. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Alona is briefing me tonight.”
“Good. The season finishes - when? September? I expect you in the office soon after your last game; you need to get started on the merger with Harris. It is vital that we...”
“One more season.” The words slipped from Jensen’s mouth as the thought sped through his mind.
“What?”
Jensen went for broke. “One more season and I will return to the company.”
His father smiled, a diabolical gleam in his eyes, and Jensen cursed himself for his weakness. Now, his father knew exactly how to hit him where it would hurt the most. “Absolutely not. There is no room for negotiation on this, JR. You are marrying Danneel, and we are moving forward with the Harris merger. End of discussion.”
“Just...”
Alan Ackles’ face flushed angrily as he advanced on Jensen, a long thin finger pointed in his face as he growled, “You have wasted enough of your life on this... this hobby. You disobeyed me; you spat in the face of your heritage for this fucking game. Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re actually my son; you’ve been a disappointment since the day you were born. To me, to this family. You wanted to play baseball? To get it out of your system? You did it. Now, it’s time to grow up and take responsibility of your legacy, JR. It’s time to stop being such a worthless waste of space,” the older man huffed as he again flayed Jensen with his words and the bitter look in his eyes. “Enough screwing around. I’ve reached the end of my patience with you. You will return to the company and you will prove yourself worthy of the Ackles name.”
Jensen’s response was borne of habit, drilled into him from the time he had been old enough to speak. “Yes, sir.”
|*|*|*|
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Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings (overall): Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’ (wait, what kind of warning is that?)
Word Count: ~ 3,850
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos, the Toronto Star, or Rogers Sportsnet. This is for fun, not profit.
A/N: Umm...*bites lip* I’ll just wait over there... *Runs for cover*
Enjoy! Comments = Love!
Summary: In the aftermath of an epic kiss, the Texas Rangers breeze into town, too bad that it's upon an ill-wind.
( 1 ), ( 2 ), ( 3 ), ( 4 ), ( 5 ), ( 6 ), ( 7 ), ( 8 ), ( 9 ), ( 10 ), ( 11 )
TWELVE: IT’S NOT PERSONAL, IT’S BUSINESS
Jared practically shoved Jensen into his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, just as Jensen said, “Asshole.” They stared at each other for about ten seconds before their faces broke out into almost identical, maniacal grins.
“You with me?” Jensen asked, holding out his fist.
Jared’s fist bumped his. “All the way, baby.”
|*|*|*|
About an hour later, everyone saw the adoration on their faces as they leaned into each other, but no one saw the mischievous glint in Jared’s eye or the roguish quirk to Jensen’s mouth just before Jared cupped his face and kissed him.
About two minutes after that, they pulled apart as they heard the front door close with a quiet snick. They shared a look, mouths valiantly fighting the urge to smile, before Jared snorted and Jensen lost it, and they collapsed against each other, laughing uproariously.
“We’re so hot, we totally turned them on,” Jared smirked at him when they could breathe and talk at the same time again.
“Totally. All of them, too,” Jensen had to agree. There was no need to mention that he was a little turned on too. No need at all. “Halo?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jared went to the television to set up the game while he cleared away some of the empty bottles from around the living room. When Jensen settled down on the couch next to him, Jared turned to him in consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10.”
“Six.”
Jared sputtered indignantly. “A six? That’s insulting! I’m insulted!”
“And I’m being honest,” Jensen insisted, not quite meeting his friend’s eyes, “there’s room for improvement.”
“Improvement?” Jared looked comically outraged and Jensen tried his damndest to keep it together. “Dude, girls have swooned at my feet after I’m done with them! Do you hear me, Jen? They’ve swooned.”
“I think the whole floor heard you, man,” Jensen bit his lip to keep from smiling at the pout on Jared’s face. “All right, maybe a seven.”
“I don’t want your pity point! I demand a do-over.”
“Demand away, doesn’t mean you’re gonna get...” Jensen was cut off by Jared glomming onto him, his wide mouth latching onto Jensen’s as he smothered him into the couch, kissing him senseless.
Jensen tried not to react to it. This was a guy was kissing him after all. And the guy was Jared, of all people. This was ridiculous. And maybe a little hot. But mostly it was ridiculous. He was pretty positive, and when he was able to breathe again, he was going to revisit that debate.
Jared pulled off with a soft plop. “Well?”
“Eight.”
“Eight? That was an eleven and you know it!” He yelled hysterically, ready to argue his point when he suddenly stopped, narrowing his eyes at Jensen. “Okay, hotshot. You think you can do better?”
“Dude, I know I can do better,” Jensen spoke before thinking. That was a rather common occurrence in conversations with Jared. Still, a challenge had been issued, and how could he not rise to it? “Pucker up, princess.”
“Oh no, I did my bit, now you do all the work. I’m not gonna...”
Jensen kissed him. Really just to shut him up. It was a highly effective manoeuvre. Huh. He wondered if he could get away with shutting Jared up like this on a regular basis. The idea had its merits. Also, there was the kissing itself. Because the kissing wasn’t bad. So there were side-benefits to the shutting up. Pleasant, tingly side-benefits.
He pulled back, and merely raised a questioning brow at his challenger.
“Meh.”
“Meh?”
Jared shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh.”
Well, that was just unacceptable.
He fisted his hands in Jared’s t-shirt and yanked him close, their chests colliding as he covered Jared’s mouth with his, cutting off Jared’s sound of surprise with his tongue. Jared hadn’t used his tongue, but Jensen was way more devious than Jared, and decided to employ his entire kissing arsenal. It was all about winning after all and Jensen liked to win. The kissing itself was superfluous, and had nothing to do with anything else, except that he was like any other red-blooded male - he liked to kiss - and he maybekindasorta liked kissing Jared, but that was irrelevant right now. There was a distinct possibility it may become relevant at a later time, but Jensen didn’t dwell on that.
No, Jensen just focused on kissing Jared... er, on winning. On winning this kissing competition. But how was he supposed to take control when Jared’s tongue was suddenly in his mouth? When had that happened? Jensen pushed at Jared’s tongue with his own, and the duel began.
En garde.
Thrust, parry, riposte, retreat, feint, reprise. Sometimes with Jared dominating, and sometimes with Jensen getting the upper hand. Someone moaned. Jensen thought it might have been him, but he couldn’t be sure, not when Jared was sucking on his tongue like it was a popsicle.
He didn’t know how long they had been at it, but somewhere along the line, the kiss changed. It was no longer a battle for bragging rights. Instead, it became something hotter, slower, softer, sweeter.
It became a make-out session.
And it lasted until they both kind of dozed off on the couch just like that: arms entwined, legs entangled, pressed up close and very personal, breaths mingling, bodies snuggling close, both of them far too comfortable to move.
“That was like a twenty,” Jensen whispered on a sigh.
“Yeah, better than ‘meh’,” Jared agreed breathlessly, “more like ‘hallelujah’.”
|*|*|*|
“So you knew?” Tom asked in exasperation.
“Uh huh,” Jensen smirked.
“And you played us?” Chad demanded.
“Yup,” Jared grinned.
“Shit,” Mike shook his head as Chad smacked his own face with his palm.
“I kissed dudes for you assholes,” Chad whined and Jared laughed.
“We know...”
Jensen chuckled, “Yeah, we were there. It was very entertaining.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh well,” Mike muttered, “back to square one.”
“Oh no,” Tom argued, “I’ve had enough of your brilliant ideas!”
“If I recall correctly, that part was your brilliant idea...” Mike’s voice trailed off as he and Tom walked away. Chad groaned and thumped his head against his locker a couple of times.
Jared playfully bumped shoulders with Jensen as they stood by their lockers, and Jensen winked at him, a blush staining his cheeks. It was five hundred kinds of adorable, and Jared had to stifle the urge to sigh like a girl. He settled for throwing his arm around his best friend, hauling him close, and kissing the top of his head, because: one, he could; and two, he couldn’t resist. He squeezed a little harder when Jensen all but melted into his side.
“Texas in da house tonight,” Jared said, mostly to distract himself from kissing Jensen, and from thinking about kissing Jensen.
Christ. He was so fucked.
Jensen smiled and opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the clubhouse door banging open and a booming voice calling out, “Welcome back, boys!”
Both of them grinned as Jays GM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, strode into the room as if he owned the place - which he didn’t but he was their badass boss, so he had the run of the place. Kripke smiled and held out his hand to the other man.
“Krip! You look relaxed,” JD smirked, shaking the manager’s hand and slapping him on the back.
“I haven’t had to see your ugly mug for over a week, so... yeah,” Kripke grinned right back, and JD chuckled before addressing the room. “Hope everyone enjoyed their break. Tom, Mike - great innings pitched at the All Star Game.”
Tom and Mike called out their thanks and JD took a moment to chat with the coaches before there was a knock on the door and one of his assistants poked his head inside. He nodded at the GM and JD turned to look at Jensen, a broad smile on his face as he approached them.
“We have talked on many an occasion,” he told a slightly bemused Jensen, “but never once did you mention that you were one of the Texas Ackleses.”
Jensen stilled beside him, the reaction so odd that Jared was immediately concerned. He could see Jensen’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.
“What do you mean?” he asked JD, his voice deeper, gruff, and a little cold. Jared blinked in surprise.
JD didn’t know Jensen well enough to notice anything unusual about his behaviour, so he just plowed on. “Got a surprise for you,” JD winked and bellowed at everyone else. “Get decent, women up!” Since most of the team was already in uniform, there was no real movement, everyone a little too interested by JD’s cryptic remark about Jensen. The Texas Ackleses? Even Jared was curious.
Then the clubhouse door opened and a large man walked in looking like the epitome of a Texan oilman: suit, bolero tie, and Stetson. It would have made Jared a little homesick had it not been for the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach at the blanched look on Jensen’s face.
“Gentlemen,” JD called out, “I’d like you all to meet GM and owner of the Texas Rangers, Jed Harris.” Introductions to the coaches were quickly made but it wasn’t long before the man turned to Jensen with a smile on his round, ruddy face.
“You just gonna stand there, boy?”
Jensen moved out from under Jared’s arm, but it wasn’t his usual lithe, easy motions. He seemed so wooden. Jared wanted to pull him back and hug him close and then get him the hell out of the clubhouse. Jensen shook the other man’s hand as he got patted on the back.
“Looking good, son,” Harris told him with a smile, and Jensen quietly thanked him, but just then the clubhouse door opened again and a group of people filed in. Jensen’s face broke out into a genuine smile.
“Momma,” he went up to a beautiful older lady and pulled her into a hug.
“Jensen, it’s so good to see you, baby.”
“Good to see you too, Momma. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I didn’t know until the last possible minute,” Jensen’s mother told him, and even Jared could tell from the tight, forced smile on her face that she wasn’t happy about that. “Think of it as a surprise.”
Jensen nodded in seeming understanding and looked at the man and young woman who stood behind his mother. He kissed the girl on the cheek and shook the man’s hand; his actions cursory and dutiful. “Mackenzie, Joshua.” They both murmured rote responses, and what in hell was going on, Jared wondered. With the exception of Jensen’s greeting to his mother, he had never seen the other man act so cold. Not since the day they had first met, anyway, and even that had lasted just ten minutes, tops.
“Jensen,” Harris gripped him tightly by the shoulder, and was about to say something when the door opened again and a drop-dead gorgeous redhead walked in. Chad gasped at his side and Jared had to whack him on the stomach to keep him quiet. Harris beamed as he looked at the immaculately dressed woman who, quite frankly looked like a supermodel. An exceedingly bored supermodel. Jared felt every shackle in his body rise as she sauntered close to Jensen.
“Danneel,” Jensen murmured, so quietly that Jared wouldn’t have heard it had he not been standing nearby. “When did you get back?” He asked, leaning in to perfunctorily kiss the fuschia-pink lips that she tilted up at him. She smiled and shrugged delicately.
“I had a photo-shoot in New York, and Daddy asked me to fly up here for the game...”
“Plus, I thought we could celebrate the fact that we’ve finally decided on a date,” Harris told him.
And if Jensen had been acting weird before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked now. It was as if a mask had fallen across his face, every line of his body tense. He looked at his mother.
“I didn’t know,” she muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. He nodded curtly.
“Did you not know either, Jensen?” Harris asked, his brow furrowed.
“I wasn’t...” Jensen was cut off when the door opened and three other people walked in, and Jared hadn’t thought it possible but Jensen’s form became even more rigid, “... informed,” he finished.
“Alan,” Harris addressed the new arrival who dragged his eyes away from his iPad with a questioning look. “Jensen didn’t know about the date being finalized.”
“Oh?” the man’s gaze flickered over to Jensen in an almost dismissive manner that annoyed Jared. “JR.”
“Sir.”
“You’re weak from the left side of the plate. Either improve your swing or quit claiming to be a switch-hitter,” the man sneered, as Jared bristled. Heck, the entire team bristled. Except for Jensen. Jensen just lowered his head.
“Yes, sir.”
“Margaret, I thought I asked you to send out a memo about the date?” He asked the harried looking woman next to him.
“I did, Mr. Ackles, I sent it to Alona,” she said turning a stern look to the younger woman standing next to her. Holy fucking shit, Jared suddenly realized; the man whose ass Jared really, really wanted to kick, was Jensen’s father. The woman - Alona’s - anxious gaze darted to Jensen, who merely nodded at her.
“Alona has been on vacation for the past two weeks...”
“That’s no excuse; her replacement should have taken care of it.”
“Considering my hiatus from the company,” Jensen told the older man, “I chose not to get a replacement, and we requested that Margaret inform me directly of any urgent matters.”
“Ah, well, I hadn’t classified this as urgent,” Jensen’s father brusquely informed him. “But we have had to do a lot of finagling to get this date, and everyone else has cleared their schedules, so you will accept it.”
Jensen’s mouth tightened but he just nodded. “What is the date?”
“December 22nd. You will report to headquarters as soon as you finish this baseball thing,” Ackles spat derisively, “Danneel will still be in Paris, so you’ll need to take care of a few legal matters personally.”
“Of course,” Jensen mumbled as his father re-focused his attention on the iPad in his hand. Harris cleared his throat.
“Well, good luck in the game tonight, son,” he patted Jensen’s shoulder, “we’ll be seeing you afterwards. We’re sitting in the owner’s box; come find us after the game. I’ve made dinner reservations at the Royal York Hotel.”
“As you wish.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Harris said far too jovially, “JD - why don’t you show us around this place? Oh, and Jensen...” he turned back, “feel free to invite your teammates to the wedding.” Jared started in shock as Chad gripped his shoulder.
Jensen didn’t even flinch. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take it under consideration.”
“Jensen,” Danneel turned to him just before leaving, “Jean-Marc is designing my dress, and I’ve convinced him to do your tux. My assistant needs to know exactly where you are so Jean-Marc’s people can find you to do the fittings. He has to do it now, because he’s be working on his summer line in the fall and he’ll be in hysterics, and I want all his focus on my dress.”
“Alona will know where to find me.”
Danneel nodded regally and then in a flurry of movement, suddenly the only visitor left was Alona, and she quietly walked up to Jensen. She reached out a hand to touch him but then changed her mind. Smart move, Jared thought to himself, for Jensen looked brittle, like he would shatter by touch alone.
“I’m so sorry, Jensen...”
Jensen blinked and took a deep breath. “You were on vacation; forget it. Why is he here?”
“A meeting with the Jacobson Group, which he wants you to attend. It’s tomorrow.”
“Richard Jacobson?”
“That’s him.”
“No wonder he wants me there. He’s a good friend of James Proctor.”
“Absolutely; Proctor recommended you, and just like him, Jacobson won’t deal with anyone else in the company. Also, Margaret was talking a mile a minute about the wedding arrangements, so there’s a lot of stuff I have to look through, not to mention the updates on the Proctor Report. Let me play catch up during the game and I’ll get back to you. Margaret reserved a room for you at the Royal York for the three nights that your family and the Harrises are in town...”
“That’s fine. Although I need a few things from my apartment.”
“I’ll take care of your personal items. Don’t worry about clothes. Danneel’s people have interviews set up so she can show you off, and you have an entire designer wardrobe at your disposal.”
Again, Jensen just nodded, his jaw so tense, it hardly moved as he spoke. “Are you rooming with Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Get your own room, but put it on my personal account.”
“Thank you, Jensen. I appreciate not having to share a room with that shrew.”
“No problem. Do you think you can give me a quick briefing tonight? I don’t want to go in blind tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Dinner reservations are late; I can meet you afterwards?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. I’m sorry for the late hour...”
“Anything for you, Jensen.”
“Text me with the details.”
“Will do,” Alona smiled up at him and turned to look at him just before walking out the door. “I like you from the left side. You’ve gotten better.”
Jensen didn’t even smile.
And that night, he played his worst game ever.
|*|*|*|
Jensen moved on automatic pilot, his every motion stiff, his mind miles from where it should be focused: on the game. The Jays had lost, and while he hadn’t been the sole reason for the loss, he had certainly played a key role in it, going 0-for-4 at the plate and committing an error on a routine ground out that allowed the Rangers to score a run.
He wished he could say he was happy to see his family, but in reality, he wasn’t. And that made him feel like a horrible person, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He really couldn’t bring himself to feel anything with the cold, hollow emptiness that had permeated his body ever since JD had referred to him as one of the Texas Ackleses.
The team gave him a wide berth after the game; he wasn’t surprised - they had all witnessed the Ackles Family hour and now he was probably being pitied for being that poor little rich kid, and God, how he hated that. He didn’t know how to face them again.
He didn’t know how to face Jared.
Jared. Who always knew when not to approach him, and he was so grateful for that; he felt so on edge right now, that the last thing he wanted to do was snap at his best friend.
Jensen shook his head to clear it as he approached the owner’s box, dread forming a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He just wanted to get through these three days with his dignity and his sanity still intact. He was surprised to see Alona and Margaret leave the box.
Alona came up to him as Margaret bustled away with an absent nod in his direction. “Everyone’s left for the hotel already to dress for dinner,” she informed him, “but your father is still here. He wants to talk to you alone.”
Jensen nodded tightly as Alona sighed and walked away.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” he got straight to the point when he walked into the owner’s box. Might as well get this over with; it might not be painless but it would be quick. He hoped.
“You gave up everything to play like that?” His father asked him, a sneer curling his lips, making him look ugly. Jensen mentally berated himself for thinking it, but it didn’t make it any less true. He held his tongue. “That was pathetic. You’re a disgrace to your team, just like you’re a disgrace to this family. Although, I can't really say I'm surprised.” He studied Jensen’s stoic features hoping to get some sort of reaction, but Jensen had had a lifetime of remaining impassive in the face of his father’s scathing insults; that wasn’t about to change any time soon. Too bad his armour had several chinks in it from disuse; each disparaging word hurt him. Finally, Alan Ackles spoke again. “Do you remember our deal?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One season in the majors, if you ever made it that far, and then you return to your rightful place in the company.”
“Yes, but...”
“There are no buts, JR. We had an agreement and you will stick to it. No extensions, no exceptions,” his father told him, his tone hard, his voice cold. “I’m counting on you to bring Jacobson on board. I know it’s too much to expect from you,” he stated caustically, “but try not to let me down this time.”
Jensen felt that jab too, this one sharp and deep, because it had a ring of truth to it. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Alona is briefing me tonight.”
“Good. The season finishes - when? September? I expect you in the office soon after your last game; you need to get started on the merger with Harris. It is vital that we...”
“One more season.” The words slipped from Jensen’s mouth as the thought sped through his mind.
“What?”
Jensen went for broke. “One more season and I will return to the company.”
His father smiled, a diabolical gleam in his eyes, and Jensen cursed himself for his weakness. Now, his father knew exactly how to hit him where it would hurt the most. “Absolutely not. There is no room for negotiation on this, JR. You are marrying Danneel, and we are moving forward with the Harris merger. End of discussion.”
“Just...”
Alan Ackles’ face flushed angrily as he advanced on Jensen, a long thin finger pointed in his face as he growled, “You have wasted enough of your life on this... this hobby. You disobeyed me; you spat in the face of your heritage for this fucking game. Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re actually my son; you’ve been a disappointment since the day you were born. To me, to this family. You wanted to play baseball? To get it out of your system? You did it. Now, it’s time to grow up and take responsibility of your legacy, JR. It’s time to stop being such a worthless waste of space,” the older man huffed as he again flayed Jensen with his words and the bitter look in his eyes. “Enough screwing around. I’ve reached the end of my patience with you. You will return to the company and you will prove yourself worthy of the Ackles name.”
Jensen’s response was borne of habit, drilled into him from the time he had been old enough to speak. “Yes, sir.”
|*|*|*|
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