Fic: Seven Stars for the Heaven's Eyes, 1/1 (Deathknell!verse)

[beanside]

Title: Seven Stars for the Heaven's Eyes
Authors: nilchance and beanside
Pairing: Eventual JA/JDM/JP (and others)
Rating: R (future installments will range from PG-13 to NC-17.
Disclaimer: This never happened. Never will. No offense intended.
Summary: This is an RPS Post Apocalyptic AU, set 50+ years in the future.
Warnings: References to non-con and slavery. Violence.
A/N: There aren't enough words to thank the lovely mona1347 for the awesome beta. *MWAH* Also, to all the post-apoc whores for cheering us on. *grin*




This had all sorts of potential to be a massive train wreck.

It wasn't like he and Jared hadn't housed other tough cases, but Jensen was different. Maybe it was that they'd never had someone so broken before, maybe it was because Jensen had reacted to him so startlingly. Jeff wasn't sure. But there was something he couldn't put his finger on about their new houseguest.

Right now, said houseguest was hooked up to an IV, getting all manner of fluids, and antibiotics, and general supplements. The sedative that Christian had slipped him was kicking in, giving him the appearance of a sleepy three-year-old. Jeff fully expected him to start rubbing his eyes at any moment.

Most refugees weren't so dishearteningly cute. Yeah, Jensen smelled like he could use a bath or three, and his ragged hair looked like it might hold a small civilization of dirt and lice, but the bleary way he tried to focus made Je ff's hands itch to pet him down.

Out in the hall, Jeff could hear the murmur of conversation between Jared and Christian. They were debriefing right there, with the door cracked. Given what had happened the last time they left he and Jensen alone, they weren't taking chances.

Rubbing his hands restlessly together to keep them from touching anything, Jeff looked at Jensen. "How you doing, there?"

Jensen blinked slowly at him, like his eyelids were too heavy to lift. "'M okay," he said finally, the hint of a drawl thick in his voice. "You?"

It was a hell of an improvement over 'if it pleases you.' Jeff laughed. "I'm all right, thank you. Feeling any better now?"

"Hungry," Jensen muttered, letting his eyes close. "Christian dosed me."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"'M sorry." Jensen tipped his head back, baring throat as he looked at Jeff. "My fault. Shouldn't have-- my fault. Sorry."

"You said that." Jeff looked down at his fingertips, pressing them together. Touching was an old habit, learned from when Jared first dropped into his life. When he hadn't been raging, Jared had been starved for touches: leaning into Jeff's hand, curling up against him while they watched TV, sliding into bed beside him at night. It had been the only real way to comfort Jared. Promises meant nothing, but an easy touch without the expectation of rape or pain to follow...

Jared wasn't Jensen, or vice versa. Assuming so had only gotten Jeff in trouble so far. "Apology accepted," Jeff said. "Not necessary, but accepted. Let it go."

"'ll try," Jensen murmured.

"Can I ask you a question? Do you mind if I touch you?" Jeff blurted.

Jensen's eyes narrowed.

"No. Not like that. I mean, like this," Jeff said hastily, running his fingers over Jensen's hair. It was gritty under his fingers, though not nearly as bad as Jared had been when Jeff got him. Still, there was definitely a bath in Jensen's immediate future. "Not sexual. Jared said it was comforting. But if it bothers you, I won't."

Jensen shivered under his touch, and Jeff was pulling his hand back when Jensen stammered, "No. Don't--don't stop. It's. Good."

Jeff sat next to him, lightly stroking the younger man's hair, fingers brushing along high cheekbones. Jensen's skin was pale under the grime, strewn with-- freckles? Huh. Jeff shoved back another, deeper urge to sketch him. There'd be time for that later, if Jensen was willing. If not, Jeff's memory was damn near photographic when it had to be. "Good," he said softly. "It's going to be okay, Jensen. You're safe here."

Jensen nodded. "Yeah."

Jeff's laugh was without humor. Judging from the nervous look Jensen gave him, they both knew it. "Yeah. Easy for me to say, I know."

"Yes, sir," Jensen muttered.

Oddly, the undercurrent of bitterness and anger cheered Jeff immensely. If Jensen could still be angry, there was hope. It certainly didn't mean that things would be easy. But it meant that Jensen stood a chance. The slaves who had forgotten what it was like to have their own feelings and emotions were the toughest ones.

Still, he had a nasty suspicion that Jensen was going to be a real bitch when he finally cracked. Probably would make Jared's plate throwing habit look minimal, Jeff thought, touching the scar on his cheek where he'd gotten sliced by flying shrapnel. Was it too soon to suggest that Jensen take up knitting?

"Jeff?" Jensen ventured.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking." Jeff shrugged, smiling sheepishly at Jensen. "So, you like dogs?"

A soft smile touched Jensen's full lips. "Yeah. I love dogs."

"We'll get along just fine. Jare and I both love animals. I have my baby girl, and I wouldn't be surprised if Jared shows up with his own mutt one day and tries the old "he followed me home" routine. Which is cool. Always room for one more. Not sure how much Bisou will like not being the sole queen of the household, though."

The smile brightened a little, and Jeff found himself catching his breath. When he smiled, even through the dirt and despite his skinniness, Jensen was beautiful. "What would you call this?" Jensen asked. "I followed him home."

"I'd call it serendipity," Jeff said. He meant to sound teasing, but Jensen stared at him anyway.

Thankfully, the door creaked back open and Jared poked his head in. From the weary look on his face, he'd gotten a new dressing down from Christian to ignore. As many times as Christian warned Jared not to liberate slaves without authorization, Jared would ignore him. Jared was too good of a person not to. It made him a lousy field agent, but Jeff wouldn't change it. Even if it worried the hell out of him.

"Hey," Jared said softly, all but scuffing the ground with his shoe. "You guys ready to head out?" Sandy brushed past him, unhooking Jensen from the IV line and pressing a bandaid over the small wound.

Jeff nodded, glancing at Jensen. "What do you say? Ready to go home?"

Jensen tilted his head at the word home. Like he'd never heard it before. Maybe, Jeff thought, he hadn't. Not in relation to himself at least.

So many others that they couldn't save. So damn many who would never know that there was a place for them. So many dead. The weight settled back on his shoulders as Jeff stood. One at a time, he thought. And one day, he'd find the one he'd been looking for. Even if it was in an unmarked grave.

One day, he'd make up for his lack.

But first, it was time to get Jensen settled in. He helped Jensen to his feet, noting that the other man wasn't that much shorter than Jeff himself.

Fairly tall for one of the Lost Children. It was rare that one of them got enough protein--hell, enough food-- to hit their top height. That Jensen had topped five seven meant that he'd had at least one owner who had seen to his care, whatever else they'd wanted him for. That was good. Maybe that explained why he wasn't broken.

Or maybe it was just his nature. His grandmother had always said that some people are just too stubborn to break when the Good Lord told them to. Those, she'd always say, were the ones to watch for. The cracks ran deep, and when they gave, ugliness was sure to follow.

His grandmother was a nutjob, Jeff thought fondly. He wanted to be just like her when he grew up.

As they headed out, Chris tapped him on the shoulder, and Jeff turned. "I'll be right there, Jare. Go ahead and get Jensen settled in the car."

When they had gotten out of earshot, Jeff turned back to Christian. "What's up?"

Christian rubbed a hand over his hair, smoothing it down. The neat ponytail he normally wore at work was loose, allowing his dark hair to fall like a cobra's hood around his head. Jeff smiled, thinking privately that it wasn't a bad comparison. Christian was, without question, always dangerous.

"I'm a little concerned about your new houseguest. Jonas is cracking way faster than he should." Kane glanced out the front door at Jeff's personal transport, where Jared was helping Jensen in.

"Maybe he's hoping for a deal," Jeff shrugged. "Doesn't mean there's something going on."

"Doesn't mean there isn't something going on, either." Chris looked down for a moment, then glanced up. "Have you told Jared yet?"

Jeff shook his head, rubbing a hand over the scrape of his beard. "No."

"You need to. Soon."

"I know that!" At the stares of the people around them, Jeff lowered his voice. "How exactly do you start that conversation? 'Hey, Jare? I've been lying to you for the last five years.' Yeah," Jeff hissed. "That'll go well."

"You're going to have to tell him sooner or later. And one of these days, they're going to find you."

"Yeah." Jeff felt his shoulders fall. "Look, I'll think about it."

"Okay. And watch your six." Christian slid a pen-sized plastic device in his hand. "Hold on to that."

"What the fuck?"

"Mini-taser. It runs on a nuclear battery, so it's got a good twenty charges. It'll drop just about anyone in their tracks. Keep it handy. Just in case." Christian thumped him on the arm. "I'll call if we get anything more on Jensen."

"Thanks."

"And remember what I said."

"Yes, Mommy," Jeff muttered. "God, did you come wired this paranoid?"

"Apparently." Christian turned back towards his office. In his absence of roughly thirty seconds, something had apparently come up; there was already an aide hovering in the doorway. "Don't bitch, man, it's kept you breathing."

There was no arguing with that, so Jeff settled for making at face at him. He nodded a hello to Zach, who quickly ducked back in his office. Little bastard still owed him twenty dollars on that last hockey game.

Then, his legs were carrying him out to his transport, a four wheel drive ethyl-burner that could handle the ice and snow that came with living in the foothills of Whistler.

Jensen looked up, eyes wide as Jeff slid in. "It's a shame you won't be able to see much heading home. Tomorrow, we'll have to take you out so you can see the area," Jeff murmured.

"Oh yeah," Jared said. "It's awesome! We're on the side of a mountain, and you can see all the way down into the valley!"

Jeff relaxed as Jared chattered away, seeing the tight line of Jensen's shoulders start to droop. The drugs, the hum of the road and Jensen's full stomach took their toll. Jensen was blinking sleepily before they even got to their exit. As they hit the highway, Jensen's eyes were half-lidded and distant.

Nudging Jared, Jeff tipped his head towards the backseat. Jared glanced in the rearview, mouth quirking.

By the time Jared finally pulled into their driveway, Jensen was out cold, head lolling gently on the headrest.

"That is way cuter than it should be," Jared observed.

"Yeah." Jeff tossed Jared the keys. "I've got him. You let the girl out."

Jeff crouched next to the open door and carefully undid the safety restraint. "Jensen?"

"Mmm?" Sleepy green eyes blinked at him owlishly.

"We're home. C'mon, sweetheart."

Jeff could see the moment Jensen was able to focus again. His shoulders tensed, his eyes dropped, and he started to get up. Judging from his wince, he moved too fast.

"Sorry," Jensen apologized quickly.

"Shh. It's a comfortable seat and a long damn drive. I've dozed on it more than once." A string of barks split the quiet night, and Jeff grinned. "Hey, baby girl! How's Daddy's favorite puppy?"

Bisou wagged over to them, yodeling a hello. She stopped a foot away, staring at Jensen.

"Hey, baby. This is Jensen. He's going to be staying with us." Jeff glanced back at Jensen only to find him already extending his hand for a sniff, a delighted smile on his face.

"Hi, honey," Jensen murmured. "Aren't you a pretty girl?"

Bisou, never one to shy away from adoration, wriggled happily, licking Jensen's fingers before shoving her sturdy body between them, begging for scritches.

"Daddy's girl is such a whore for love, isn't she," Jeff cooed.

"She knows she's got you wrapped," Jared called.

"True. Once we get inside, she'll be doing the 'you never, ever feed me' dance," Jeff drawled.

Jensen wrinkled his nose at her. "Um, yeah. I don't think she's missed many meals, Jeff."

Jeff laughed, delighted. "Are you sayin' my dog is overweight? Look, you can still see her ribs!"

"Those are rolls of pudge," Jensen said, risking a smile, looking up at Jeff through his lashes.

Jared laughed. "He's got your number."

Grinning, Jeff looped an arm carefully around Jensen's shoulders, avoiding the raw whip marks. "So. How does a nice bath sound?"

Jensen nodded. "That... yeah. I would like that, please."

Jared headed into the house, smiling. "I'll get it started."

"Thanks," Jeff called. "Okay, Jen. I'll give you the quickie tour while the bath fills." He led Jensen into the house, watching his eyes widen. He'd bought an old chalet-style log cabin that perched on the foothills of Whistler. It was perfect for his needs; great inspiring views, far enough away from the city for privacy, and wide open floor plan to help combat Jared's occasional bout of claustrophobia.

Jensen's head was nearly coming off, the way he was trying to see everything at once. "This is the living room, obviously," Jeff murmured. "The kitchen's through this way."

He flipped on the light, and watched Jensen's eyes get even bigger. The gourmet kitchen was kinda lost on Jeff, since his cooking abilities extended about as far as cooking pancakes and bacon. Or grilling. He was pretty good at grilling.

Bisou danced around them, whining her displeasure at her empty food bowl. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll feed you." Jeff pulled out a chair. "Have a seat while I get her food together. You want something to drink? We've got milk, juice, soda and beer."

"Milk?" Jensen asked hopefully.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." Grabbing a big, brightly colored glass from the cabinet, he headed to the cooling cabinet and pulled out the bottle of milk. "Here you go. You want chocolate syrup in it?"

"I--don't know." Jensen eyed the little brown bottle curiously.

"Ah, yeah. Hershey in the US shut down, didn't it? Here, stick out your finger," Jeff instructed. When Jensen complied, he squirted a line of the syrup onto it. "Take a taste, see what you think."

Jensen slid the finger in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little as he sucked. From the way Jensen's eyes fluttered closed, savoring the sweet flavor, it was a sure bet that Jeff had another chocoholic on his hands. The blissed out look on his face made Jeff want to glance away and keep watching, all at once. He settled for asking, "Want some of that stirred into the milk?"

"Um. Yes. If it pleas--" Jensen broke off, shoulders slumping. "Please," he amended softly. "I would like that very much."

Eyeing the fine shivers sliding through Jensen's body, Jeff smiled. "How about we make that hot chocolate, then?"

"Why don't I do that, and you show Jensen the bath?" Jared asked, wandering in. "That way, it'll actually be drinkable."

"Eh, bite me," Jeff shot back, laughing as Jared pressed in behind him and did just that, nipping at his throat. "Okay, fine. You ready for that bath?"

Jensen nodded, standing and following him through the living room to the back hall. "Once you're settled, this'll be your room," Jeff murmured, pointing to the first doorway, before turning to the one across the hall. "The bathroom is there, but the shower's kinda shitty."

"My room?" Jensen asked.

"Yeah. We've got an air mattress that we'll blow up for you until we can get you a bed. For tonight though, if you'd like, you're welcome to stay with Jared and I. No sex," Jeff said quickly. "But I know the first couple nights are hard, and if you don't want to be alone..."

For a moment, Jensen didn't reply and Jeff started to get nervous. Then Jensen nodded his head hesitantly. "If it's all right with you. I can sleep on the floor, or the foot of the bed."

Fighting the instinctive wince, Jeff shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Plenty of room up on the pillows. It's a custom bed, fricking enormous. Our friend Katie has to make the sheets." He guided Jensen through the last doorway. "This is Jared and my room. Bathroom's through here."

The bathroom had been the selling point on the house for Jeff. Deep, wide sunken tub and a double shower both big enough to accommodate Jared and him.

To Jensen, it must have looked like something from another world. Judging by how big his eyes were, he'd never seen anything quite like it. The tub was already filled, bubbling gently with the recirculating system. It had been a lifesaver when Jeff had brought Jared home. He wasn't sure he would have ever gotten Jared clean otherwise.

Jensen had been cleaned up for auction. Okay, he was grimy, sweaty and raw from a recent whipping, but he wasn't caked with filth. When Jeff had bought Jared off his owner, Jared's face had been smudged with bruises, charcoal, paint and clay. Jared had kept himself dirty, smearing on garbage and dirt to dissuade his owner from touching him. It had taken two hours in the tub to get rid of whatever had snarled in his hair, and they still had needed to cut off hair that had gotten too matted to salvage. That'd been the roughest two hours of Jeff's life since the plague years, half in the tub, trying to wrangle Jared without spooking him or touching infected old wounds.

Still, Jeff couldn't quite be grateful that Jensen was so submissive. It hurt his stomach to look at Jensen standing there, quiet, staring at the bathroom with-- Jesus. Awe, maybe, and something darker under that. A flicker of anger that echoed what Jeff felt everytime he went from the Agency to this house.

Even if Jeff handed over every check he earned, even if he took in every slave, it would never be enough. The fact was, Jeff was here in his gorgeous house with his wonderful boyfriend. He'd never scrounged for food. He'd never been raped. He didn't know why half of the Lost Children they found would never get past working in community centers, making wallets and macaroni collages, broken deep and smiling. He didn't know why so many of the ones they should've saved ended up swallowing pills, slashing their wrists, trying to get out any way they could.

It would never be enough. So Jeff gave what he could, stood back, and watched. If so many people had to live through that horror, he could damn well look at them, listen to their stories, and remember them.

Yeah. At least he knew that pathetic rationalization for what it was.

Jensen was watching him, suddenly wary.

Forcing a smile, Jeff said, "Sorry. My grandmother used to tell me that the key to stopping to think is remembering to start again."

Jensen gave him a pale smile, averting his eyes. Before Jeff could say anything else, Jensen slid the sweatpants off his hips. A moment later, more gingerly, Jensen peeled the sweatshirt off. Under the loose clothes, he was brutally skinny. Jeff had seen worse scars, deeper marks, but there was something profoundly disturbing about the way the smooth, untouched skin of his face, throat and chest gave way to the patchwork of whipmarks and furrowed scars on his back. The freckles continued all the way down.

There were still bruises in the shape of fingers on Jensen's hips.

Tearing his gaze away, Jeff turned and gathered up the soap, shampoo and towels. "Go ahead and get in," he said, more abruptly than he intended to. "Be careful of your back."

From behind him came the soft sound of Jensen sliding awkwardly into the tub. Jensen inhaled, hitching, then held his breath in silence.

Jeff glanced up. In the steamed mirror, Jensen was a blur of pale skin. "You okay?" he asked.

Hissing a breath out through his teeth, Jensen murmured, "Yeah. Yes. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, sweetheart." Jeff risked looking over his shoulder, confirming that Jensen was mostly hidden in the water, and turned. Jensen blinked at him, balanced tensely on the bath's corner perch, looking like he expected Jeff to kick him.

"Water okay?" Jeff asked instead.

"Uh, yeah. It's good."

"I have some oils I can put in after you're cleaned up. They'll soothe your back a little." Thankfully, Jeff'd kept them after Jared. The oils came in handy for nights that Jared came home from the field banged up. Scooping up the oil, the shampoo and a cup to rinse with, Jeff knelt next to the tub. "If it's all right, I'm going to wash your hair. Trying to put your arms up right now would hurt like hell."

"Fine," Jensen said softly, but he tensed even further.

Jeff reached out, awkwardly petting his shoulder. Jensen twitched at the touch, wound up tight. Afraid of Jeff. Jesus, Jeff hated that.

"I've got you, Jensen. Just relax." He tilted Jensen's chin up with a light touch and poured the water over Jensen's hair, making sure to wet it thoroughly. The water was gray as it coursed down Jensen's back, clouding the bath. Jensen flinched as the cuts stung, his grip tightening on the rim of the bath. Jeff would have to disinfect his back again once they were done. Jeff said, "I know. I'm sorry, this might hurt some. It'll get better."

Jensen nodded, the tight line of his shoulders not changing a bit. "Thank you."

"I think we'll use Jared's shampoo on you. Mine's got peppermint oil in it, and I think that might sting," Jeff murmured, pouring a generous amount of shampoo into his palm. The warm sandalwood scent filled the air, and Jeff shifted a little closer, rubbing his hands together before he slid his fingers into Jensen's mop of hair.

One thing he'd learned, Jeff thought, was that he was a tactile person. He loved touching and being touched. Not a huge shock considering the relative sterility of his life until Jared. But yeah. He liked the feel of things: the slope of Jared's shoulders, the smooth grip of a paint brush, slippery lube and the cool metal of their headboard.

Right now, at the top of the list of things he liked feeling was Jensen's hair, the coarse feel of the dirt gave way under the shampoo-- no. What he liked was Jensen relaxing, shivering slightly as Jeff's nails scraped lightly over his scalp. There were a few tender places on his scalp, spots where Jensen shied away from his touch, but Jeff got the feeling that he was earning trust every time he let Jensen turn away from him. Every touch that didn't hurt, every second he didn't try to restrain Jensen, he was gaining ground.

After a second rinse, Jeff cupped the back of Jensen's head, pressing his fingertips against the taut muscles of Jensen's nape. Jensen stiffened, eyes opening to stare up at Jeff.

Jeff held his eyes, kneading gently at the knots of old tension. "Easy. Just let me hold your head up."

Jensen made a soft sound, eyes sliding shut again. Haltingly, he let his head drop back into Jeff's hands. Quiet fell, broken only by the burble of the recirculator and the deepening rhythm of Jensen's breathing. Jeff touched him, reading the lines of taut muscle like braille, stroking until they released. Jensen seemed to melt into his hands.

Jeff had forgotten how intimate this could be. His wrists ached from holding one position, his legs were going numb under him, and yet he wanted to do this all night. Just watching Jensen learn that Jeff wouldn't hurt him, the way Jensen's eyes went lazy and dark, the way his lips parted...

Oh God, this needed to stop.

"While we're in here, do you like your hair this length, or do you want a trim?" Jeff asked softly, voice hoarse.

Jensen glanced up through slitted green eyes, and reluctantly raised his head out of Jeff's hands. He wobbled a little coming up. "It could be shorter, if it-- if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not." Reaching out, Jeff considered. Some of the hair was too badly tangled to salvage. "How short?"

"Um." Judging from Jensen's expression, that had never occurred to him. He shrugged. "About your length?"

Jeff grinned. "We can do that. One more rinse." He scooped up the cup again and let the warm water sluice down Jensen's shoulders and chest, carrying dirt and grime away. The worst of it was gone now. "You gonna be okay with scissors that close, sweetheart?"

Giving him a puzzled look, Jensen said, "I can hold still."

"That's not-- never mind. All right. Might let Jared handle that part, if you don't mind. He usually cuts mine for me, so he's better at it." Jeff shifted back, wincing as the feeling returned to his legs, and grabbed the bottle of oil. He poured a generous amount into the notch of the recirculator, and in moments the warm scent began to fill the room. Jeff smiled and nudged the bar of soap towards Jensen. "I'm going to call Jared in to help you from here. You go ahead and soak for a while."

"Yes, s--" Jensen caught himself, swallowing and gave Jeff a pale smile. "Jeff."

Managing to smile back, Jeff pushed himself back to his feet and went to the door of the bathroom. He kept one eye on Jensen. This early in rehab, everyone was a suicide risk. "Jare?" he called. "Jensen needs a haircut that doesn't look like he got in a fight with a landscaper."

Jared laughed, stepping out of the kitchen doorway and wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "So you're not doing it."

"Nope. I'm going to let the dog out." Jeff mimed smoking. "Call me if you need anything."

Rolling his eyes, Jared moved to put Jensen in his line of sight before pushing Jeff towards the backdoor. "Go on and brood, old man."

Jeff aimed a swat at Jared's backside and missed utterly, then clucked his tongue at Bisou and headed onto the back porch. It was chilly outside, the night air carrying the scent of woodsmoke from some of their neighbors. He lit up a cigarette, adding his own smoke to the mix

Neighbors. Right. The woodsmoke carried on the breeze, but there was no one within a mile of this cabin. If anyone approached it, alarms would trigger and they'd know. His paranoia was still mostly intact.

Maybe Chris was right. Maybe Jeff'd gotten soft after all this time. Maybe he was going to be suckered by a pretty face. Maybe he should be more careful. Maybe, Jeff thought--his mouth twisting--he was letting his dick make decisions for him.

He'd love to say that it was all because of Jared, that he was welcoming Jensen in because it made Jared happy. That'd be another goddamn lie. The second he'd walked into the shoddy little examining room and saw Jensen there, he'd felt--

He had a sick hard-on for a mostly broken sex slave. It was no more complicated than that.

His reaction to Jensen bothered him a little. He loved Jared, no question. He would spend the rest of his life making Jared happy. But Jensen was attractive, too. Jeff'd spent years looking for that one damn slave, and of all the ones he'd found, Jensen came closest to matching the physical description. It was no surprise that his body would respond.

Bisou brought him a stick, and he tossed it. She dove after it, tail wagging violently.

Then there was the other issue.

Time was ticking away. Gran had always been able to tell when the winds were shifting, when it was time to go deep or run. Jeff had never been quite as good, but an idiot could tell that he was running out of time to tell Jared the truth. Which might explain why Kane had mentioned it.

Ha.

There was no way of knowing how Jared would react. Maybe he'd be okay with it, maybe he'd go off like a roman candle. It was always hard to tell. Even after all the therapy and anger management, Jared still had an unpredictable temper. He could be as patient as a saint when it came to rehabbing ex-slaves, but every once in a while, something would push Jared past his breaking point. That was usually when Jared ended up locking himself in the gym with a punching bag.

"I have to tell him," Jeff murmured, rubbing Bisou's head. "But it scares the hell out of me. I don't want to do this anymore. Don't want to run again. I'm not sure I could anymore."

She whined, resting her head on Jeff's knee. Her big soulful eyes seemed to remind him that he wasn't alone. "I know, baby. It's just hard. I'm not sure Jared's going to take it as well as you did."

Probably not. Licking his face and offering him a paw was probably out of the question for Jare.

Though, honestly, with Jared you never knew.

With a last drag, Jeff stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and headed inside, pausing to lock the doors and set the alarms.

Jared was already in bed, talking quietly to Jensen. At the moment, Jensen only vaguely looked like the scrawny, dirty, feral-looking mess who they'd brought home. He was clean, for one. Jeff could see his face now, the keenly defined features almost scary pretty under short, tawny hair. The cheekbones were a little sharp, but there was definite potential there once Jensen filled out. He'd be a heartbreaker.

Jensen looked up, wide-eyed as Jeff slipped into the room, then relaxed. He was half in one of Jeff's old painting t-shirts, Jared helping him ease the fabric down over his back. The air smelled sharply of antiseptic cream. "Hi," Jensen whispered. "Jared said it was okay if I borrowed your shirt?"

"It's fine," Jeff agreed. "The hair looks good like that."

"Of course," Jared said, tousling Jensen's hair. "I know what I'm doing. And Jensen doesn't squirm."

Jensen ducked his head, but there was a smile on his lips.

"I'm going to grab a shower," Jeff murmured. "Be right out."

Jared gave him a knowing glance, which Jeff returned with his best clueless smile before ducking into the bathroom. The shower came on cold, but warmed quickly enough. Jeff braced himself against the wall and leaned into the spray. The multiple heads pounded sore muscles, rinsing off the smell of sweat and smoke. It was one of Jared's rules: that Jeff not come to bed smelling like tobacco.

They both knew it wasn't the tobacco that was the problem. It was the smoke, too much like Deathknell's last pyres. Bad memories. God knew, Jared was entitled to his issues.

Easy enough for Jeff to clean up, and it wasn't like Jared ever asked for much. Jeff couldn't have imagined that the ball of fury he'd brought home would turn into such a generous, amazing person. It was no wonder he'd fallen in love. Helping Jared move out into a small apartment near the college had been the hardest thing he'd ever done, but it had been the right thing to do. Jeff was in love, sure. But Jared needed time to be out in the world, to find his way for himself without Jeff holding his hand.

Nine months later, Jared had moved back into the house. From there, it hadn't been long before Jared moved into Jeff's bed.

Five years had passed since then, and Jeff couldn't imagine a world without Jared's smile. He would beg, crawl, do anything, if it meant that Jared would stay after Jeff finally told him.

Damn Christian, anyway! Fucking paranoid bastard. Five years of peace, and it had to come up now? It was as though Jeff wasn't allowed to be happy. Not lasting happiness, at least.

Five years of happiness built on lies.

Fuck. This wasn't helping. Relax.

Jeff sighed, closing his eyes and focusing on Jared, only Jared. His smile, his gorgeous body, his mouth. His hand slid down, curling around his vaguely interested cock, and started stroking quickly. Jared on his knees, the sweet feel of his tongue teasing, Jared pinning him to the bed and biting marks in Jeff's skin, Jared's hard cock fucking him so good--

Biting his lip against a low groan, Jeff leaned against the shower wall, pumping his cock through his orgasm. It wasn't what he really wanted, but it would do. No post-mission, wild sex with Jared tonight. Jensen didn't need them fucking like bunnies around him.

Sliding his fingers off with a last apologetic pat, he rinsed off and brushed his teeth. He had to remind himself to pull on sweats before heading back out. They had company again, so no more sleeping naked for a while. Probably a long while.

Jared had tucked Jensen in the middle of the bed, where he was perched like a virgin sacrifice. Jeff towelled his hair off, flashing Jensen an easy smile. "You okay, sweetheart? You need another pillow?"

"N-no, I'm fine." Jensen stared, white showing around his eyes. "Thank you."

"No problem." Jeff slid into bed, slowly, no sudden movements. A moment later, Bisou landed next to him, tongue lolling out as she wriggled up between him and Jensen. Good; a furry buffer wouldn't go amiss.

Cautious, Jensen reached out and stroked Bisou's head. Bisou snuggled into him, making herself welcome on Jensen's pillow. Jeff would've moved her if Jensen had seemed to know what to do with a pillow in the first place. Cracking a smile, Jensen murmured, "Pretty girl."

"Spoiled bitch," Jared drawled, easing into the bed on Jensen's other side. He tugged the covers up, smoothing them over Jensen's shoulder. "Don't let Jeff steal these."

"Yeah, like I'm the one who steals them." Stretching out on his back, Jeff folded his arms behind his head. Look, my hands aren't free. I won't hurt you. Trust me. "You want the light on, Jensen?"

Jensen let his head rest on the pillow, shifting to lay on his belly. His eyes darted to Jeff's hips, a silent question; Jeff shook his head, hoping like hell he took no for an answer this time. Jared watched them both, fingers resting on Jensen's arm, ready to restrain if he had to.

A hard expression flickered across Jensen's face, there and gone before Jeff could react. Then Jensen was smooth again, sleepy from the full belly and the sedative. "It doesn't matter," he said, eyes drifting closed.

Jeff glanced at Jared, who shrugged and reached for the light. Darkness closed around them. Jared reached above Jensen's head to tap Jeff's nose, a quick and silent 'I love you' before Jared settled in.

At least Jared could sleep.

As their breathing eased out and deepened, Jeff stared at the lines on the ceiling. There was a tightness in his belly, a feeling of wrongness that wouldn't go away. It was the feeling that came just before he had to run. He hadn't missed it.

Jeff braced himself for a long, restless night.

Comments

[snowphilosophy.livejournal.com]

Ooh, this is so good! I can't wait to find out what Jeff's secret is. And Jensen, aww, honey. I was happy to see Bisou too.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*grin* More to come soon!

Thank you!