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fufaraw
NINETEEN
He thought it was cramps, something he'd eaten, since nothing seemed to sit comfortably in his stomach anymore. He felt vaguely nauseous--again, nothing new or unfamiliar--but never quite sick enough to throw up. He paced up and down his office for a while, then went outside. Walking on the grass in the shade felt better, by a little. He eyed the pool, and decided the water would be buoyant enough to relieve some of the cramps, so he eased in, trying not to cringe in shock at the chill. He adapted soon enough, and the water did ease the weight of his stomach. He was more than perturbed to see the water ripple in response to a particularly vicious poke from its occupant. He eased down to sit on the steps at the shallow end, and tried to relax in the sun. Jared found him there, shivering. He'd been alternating between hot flashes and bouts of chills for a while now, but the cramps seemed to have gotten worse, and he hadn't been able to summon the motivation to get to his feet and get out of the water.
As Jared helped him to his feet and then up the stairs to the apron of the pool, Jensen registered an ache in his back that went down the backs of both legs all the way to his knees. An ache so deep and heavy that it made him dizzy, even before the ache clamped down, moving to tighten around his abdomen, squeezing in an inescapable grip. He stood in the circle of Jared's strong arms, unable to move on his own, while Jared uttered a stream of incomprehensible words into his hair and his neck. The ache eased off, back to a bearable presence in his back and legs, but the echo of how bad it had been lingered, and almost before he drew breath enough to start to recover, he felt it getting stronger again.
His knees buckled at the onslaught and he would have fallen had Jared not had hold of him. Jared led him toward the house, and into the garage. They had to stop twice before Jared helped him up into the car and buckled his belt. Jared ran around the car, got in and cranked the engine while he grabbed his phone.
"Marta? Jensen's in labor. I found him in the pool, and he seems to be pretty far along. We're on the way to the hospital now, just so you know what's going on. I'll call you when I know more, okay? Thanks."
Jared had Mark on speed dial, and he was able to get straight through to him. Mark promised to meet them and to have things streamlined for an urgent delivery by the time Jared got Jensen to the hospital. He was as good as his word. A gurney and a team of nurses was waiting at the entrance, and they made quick work of getting Jensen transferred from the car.
Jared strode alongside the gurney, Jensen's hand held tight. "It's gonna be okay, Jensen. I know it hurts. I'm sorry, man, but we're almost there. Mark's here already, and it's not going to be long, now. Just trust him, okay? And I’m gonna be right there with you the whole time."
Which was a lie, Jensen thought, when he was able to think, because the first thing that happened when the elevator doors opened was that somebody peeled Jared away and Jensen was rushed headlong toward some unknown destination, some fate he didn't want and would have done anything to avoid. They had strapped him down, which was a good thing. Otherwise he'd have rolled off this damned table and--
Another contraction took him and he lost the thought. Jared. Where was Jared? He promised. He promised to be here. Where--
"Jensen?" Not Jared, it was Mark. "Jensen, we're going to transfer you now, just hold tight. We know what we're doing."
What? Transfer? He felt himself lifted, moved sideways and lowered again before he could think about it. It made him dizzy, but another contraction hit and by now he was screaming. Was that his voice?
"Jensen." Jared. That was Jared.
"Jensen, I'm here. Mark's here, and it looks like we're getting ready to do this."
"Can't." He rolled his head from side to side. Did that come out? Was that his voice? "Can't," he insisted.
"Yes you can."
Damn Jared anyway. "That's what you always--" The contraction took his breath, and when he got it back, all he could do was whisper. "Don't want to."
"I know," Jared's hand stroked his hair. A cool damp cloth wiped his face. "But we don't have a choice. You can do this, man. I promise."
Jared's last words were lost in Jensen's scream of pain. Jensen clenched down tight on his hand and hung on. "Drugs, Jared," he yanked on Jared's hand to bring his face down to the same level. "Give me drugs and cut the damned thing out of me," the next contraction hit before he could finish the sentence. "Please!"
"Now, now," Mark's calm, reassuring voice penetrated the tension in the room. Jensen hated him and wanted to smash his smug handsome face in. "Jensen, you're doing fine. There'll be no need for drugs, nor for cutting."
All Jensen could manage in answer was a "Fuck you!" in a scream-roughened rasp, before he was screaming again.
"Mark," Jared couldn't stand watching and listening to Jensen in so much pain. "Can't you give him something? He's hurting pretty bad."
"It'll be over before you know it, Jared. And once he sees this little man, he'll forget all about the pain."
There was a lot of blood. And a lot more screaming. Jensen cursed both of them many times. Many, many times, before the baby made his appearance, and in a few seconds he was screaming, too. Weighed and wiped down a bit and wrapped in a blanket, the baby was laid in Jared's arms as Mark finished tidying Jensen up. He stood close beside the delivery table and leaned down so Jensen could see the baby's face.
"Look, Jen. Look what we did. He's perfect!" Jensen didn't reply. His eyes closed and his head rolled on the pillow, facing the blank wall. If Jared hadn't known better he would have thought it was just fatigue.
* * *
The light for room 807 blinked, and Sarah went to see what the patient wanted. As she approached, she could hear the baby howling--either wet or hungry. The parent probably wanted help or advice addressing either problem. Sarah knew it was his first child, and smiled at how anxious first timers were. The room was dark and she thought at first the bed was empty, but a voice rusty with tension and complaint said, "Can you move that thing out of here? I can't sleep for the noise, and the smell is about to gag me."
"Well," she flipped on the overbed light and the man ducked away, blinking. She made sure the cheer in her voice didn't falter. "He needs a change, that will take care of the smell. And he probably needs feeding. That will take care of the noise."
"Fine." The man turned his back to her and the light. "You just take it somewhere else and take care of that, okay? I need sleep."
Sarah was a little nonplussed by the attitude. She pulled the covers down off the man's shoulders and stepped on the control to raise the head of the bed so he could sit to nurse. "You're the parent. It's your job to 'take care of that.’" He didn't reply, and as he began to sit up, she backed away a little, intending to fetch the baby for him. But he slipped his feet into the waiting slippers and struggled into his robe. Instead of heading for the cradle, though, he grabbed his pillow and started for the door.
"Wait--where are you going?"
"If that's staying here," he muttered, "I'm not. I need sleep." And he walked out. A little slow and unsteady on his feet, but determined. She followed him, confused and a little alarmed. "You can't--where do you think you're going?"
"The lounge?" he asked. "Somewhere there's a couch? I don't care, as long as I don't have to listen to--that. Or smell it."
"Wait--Mr., um." She stumbled over the unfamiliar and hyphenated name. He didn't offer her any aid with it, but he did pause. There was no challenge in his gaze, but there was no doubt he was serious. "I suppose I can move the baby into the nursery until morning. But only until morning. I'll give him a bottle of water, and that should hold him for now. But he'll need feeding in a few hours."
He didn't respond, so she smiled and tried another tack, hoping to appeal to his own comfort. "And you'll probably be uncomfortable by then and ready for him to relieve some of that pressure, too."
"Great," he muttered. "Thanks." He didn't move, and she realized he was waiting for her to retrieve the bassinet and move it out. She did that, noticed particularly that he looked away as she rolled the baby past, waiting till they were in the hall before he moved back into the room. She waited to check as he snapped off the light and climbed into the bed, fumbling for the control to flatten the mattress.
"Jensen!" Jared's panicked voice roused him from the depths of dreamless sleep. He cracked his eyelids and then squinched them tight closed again. The room was flooded with sunlight. Too bright.
"What?" he mumbled.
"Where's the baby? What happened? Is he sick? Jensen!" He felt the head of the bed start to rise and fumbled for the controls.
"Nnnuh!" he slapped at the button to stop the movement. "I don' know. Go ask nurses. Lea' me 'lone. Sleeeeep, Jared. Please."
His eyes were stubbornly still shut, but he felt Jared spin and dash out of the room. There was going to be hell to pay, but meanwhile, he could grab another few minutes of precious sleep. They didn't last long. He could hear the squalling as it approached, and his breasts ached in response. He could feel the wetness welling from the nipples, soaking his shirt. The squalling was in the room now, and he could smell Jared's aftershave. Hell, he could practically feel the angry indignation radiating off Jared.
"Jensen!" Jared had never snapped his name out like that. Hell, he was in it now.
"What?"
He'd been right. Jared's face was all concern and disbelief and indignation as he cradled the bundle in his left arm while it yelled its imperious demands. "He's hungry!"
"Your kid, your problem," Jensen yawned, completely unaffected by either the yowling or Jared's upset. But of course Jared wasn't put off in the slightest. He started toward the bed, bending to lower the bundle toward Jensen.
"You bring that thing near me," Jensen growled, pushing himself up to sitting and preparing to launch himself off the bed. "And I'll strangle it. Or throw it across the room."
That had the desired effect, at last. This was Jensen's line in the sand, and he wasn't prepared to back down from it. "I can't sleep for the noise, Jared, and I can smell it from here. Take it back where you got it."
"But Jensen, you have to feed him--"
"No. I don't. And short of tying me down and strapping a pump on me, there's no way you can make me. And that's going to take more than you to do it, even in the shape I'm in right now." He saw Jared register the wet patches on his shirt. Jensen could smell the milk, and it nauseated him, as much as the poop and pee smells did. He grabbed the robe and pulled it on, wrapping it tight about him to hide the stains. Jared stood there, jiggling the bundle a little to try and quiet it, as he worked through Jensen's ultimatum.
"Jen," he said softly. "He's your son. He needs you."
"It's your sprog, Jared. You wanted it, you got it. Nothing to do with me. And it's still yowling, so I suggest you find another solution for that, 'cause I'm not it. I can smell it, and if you don't get it out of here right now I really may puke."
Jared stepped close enough to reach the nurse call button and away again. She must have been lurking outside the door, because her appearance was almost instantaneous. Jared laid the bundle in her arms and tucked the blanket a little closer around it. "Go ahead and give him a bottle," he told her. "And keep him in the nursery for now. We have things to talk about."
She nodded, and the noise receded as she went away.
Jared moved the visitors' chair closer to the bedside and sat down. He didn't try to touch Jensen, but he regarded him with a soft and loving look. "How can you say he's nothing to do with you, Jen? He's half your genes. You're why he's here; you're the miracle that made him possible. He's ours—yours and mine. He's your little boy, and he needs you."
Jensen didn't reply for long minutes, and Jared let him take as long as he needed, and once Jensen started, Jared didn't interrupt. He didn't meet Jared's eyes, and his voice was level, unemotional when he did speak. He had obviously been thinking about this for a while.
"This is not the life I wanted to lead. You know, I'd have offed myself dozens of times over, except for one thing." His gaze sharpened from middle distance to here in the room and swung to focus on Jared. "You, Jared."
Jared's breath caught at the intensity of that gaze. "You made me fall in love with you. And I do, I love you. So much that if I were free, I would still stay, if you wanted me."
Jared shifted, a response on his lips, but Jensen shook his head and Jared subsided to listen.
"I'm legally required to bear you offspring. So I'll be your bucket, your broodmare." Jensen looked away again, back to the unfocused distance. "God knows you've been as caring and supportive as anyone could possibly be through all this," he glanced at Jared then, meeting his eyes, attempting to soften truth with a joke, "Even though it was all your fault to begin with." At Jared's sheepish smile he glanced away again. "Even though the thought of sex has just been…well, disgusting, and for a while all I've been able to feel was anger, I couldn't help loving you. I don't think that's ever going to change. Sometimes I get a thrill looking at girls in bikinis, I do. But you're it for me. Despite everything, I fell in love with you, and you're the one I want."
He fixed Jared with an immovable gaze, and waited for him to say something.
Jared nodded. "I love you too, Jensen. So much. If there was a legal way for you not to have to go through pregnancies and births, I'd make that happen. I've always wanted children. I love you and want your children, as many as we could have. But if there was a choice I wouldn't put you through that when you hate it so much."
A smile touched Jensen's features, and tears threatened for a moment, but they were gone in a blink and his expression was serious again. "Thank you. Thank you, Jared. This is why I love you, you're a really good man."
Jared grinned and ducked his head in that characteristic way that went straight to Jensen's heart--and his dick, surprising him. Well, they'd get to that, soon. Maybe, depending on how the rest of this talk went.
"There's more, though, and you're not going to like it."
Jared sat back and braced himself a little. "Hit me."
"I'll give you the kids. I'll get through the pregnancies, I'll keep myself healthy, do all the right things, give you the best little piglets I can manage. And then they're yours to deal with. I want no part of their upkeep. I don't want to see them. I don't want to hear them, so if we share a bedroom, no baby monitor. And I don't want them close enough to smell. You hire nannies and wet-nurses, or prepare to bottle feed, because I'm not going to be part of that equation."
As Jared shifted and started to protest, Jensen raised a hand. "I'm not required to. I don't want to be a parent. I'm doing this under protest, because otherwise I'd end up in a facility somewhere bred by force. Or dead."
His eyes fastened on Jared again, and his voice sharpened to steel. "If it wasn't you, Jared, I'd be dead long ago, believe that. You're the only thing that's kept me here.
"Legally, I'm required to give birth, but I'm not legally bound to parent the result. I don't want it, I don't want them. So you keep them away from me, and we can go on being together, and I can love you. If you hate me for this, I'm sorry. But you have three choices: you can terminate my contract and send me back to Repro, wash your hands of me and ask for another ceiver, one who'll bear your kids and wipe their butts and suckle them like good ceivers are supposed to do. Or you can find somebody to help you care for the sprog and spend whatever time with me you need to knock me up and we'll call it good."
"What's my third choice?"
"We go on as we have been—together, in love, screwing each other sideways and enjoying it. I get through the pregnancies, we keep Repro happy, but in the meantime I get at least some of my life back. I want the two bonus rooms. I'm already set up in there, but I want to do it right. I need sound equipment, better than I have now. I need a couple of good computers, and Internet—high-speed and reliable. I can work by phone and Skype and Internet. I won't be doing anything illegal as long as it's okay with you. I don't have to meet people in person, so no chaperone, and no coming and going at the house. You told me a long time ago that you were glad I was a guy, not just a ceiver, not just a babymaker. So I get a job, something real that I'm good at, and some mental challenge and freedom. You get the kids."
The sound of Jensen's gulp could be heard in the silence of the room. "So, what do you say? You need some time?"
TWENTY
Jensen did a little dance step when he opened the envelope: his first royalty check! The song he had co-written and Jason had recorded had taken off like some sort of phenomenon, and he and Jason were already collecting royalties on the sales. It wasn't a large check, but it was enough to take Jared out to dinner, and celebrate.
He made a note to find a frame and mat online so he could hang the check replica: the cash had already been deposited in Ross Jensen's account. Arthur Clark had been only too happy to help Jensen set up his business in a way that wouldn't attract Repro's attention, or if it did, wouldn't bring repercussions down on Jared. It was a good feeling to have a successful career again, doing something he loved. There were three original songs in various stages of completion right now, plus the seven or so he'd co-written with Steve, Jason, or both of them. So far he and Chris hadn't been able to agree long enough to collaborate, even by Skype or webcam, but he hadn't given up on that. He'd even done backup tracks on a few songs, and even if he could never acknowledge them, it felt good to work with the guys again. Hell, it felt good just to work again.
He reached for the phone to call Leslie and make sure she was on nanny duty tonight, so he could lure Jared out for the evening. Once she was confirmed, he called Jared's office, and got his secretary to put him through.
Jared sounded tired. "Hey, what's up?"
"Hey yourself, good-lookin'. How's about you pick me up about seven o'clock? I want to take you out to dinner. You got a preference? Steak sound good? You want suits and nice wine? Or jeans and nice beer?"
Jensen could just about hear the dimples in Jared's smile. "What's the occasion?"
"Got my first royalty check, want to take my man to dinner."
"Well, all right. How big's the check?"
"What?"
"Can you afford nice wine, Jensen?"
Jensen snickered. "Shit yeah, man. Nothing but the best for you."
He was rewarded with a full-bellied laugh. The change in Jared's voice made him proud. He'd done that. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll shed this monkey suit and relax for the evening. All right?"
"Done. Reservations at Murphy's. See you at seven."
Jensen made the call to Murphy's, and then had a nice long think about Jared getting comfy. Maybe the two of them could get comfy together. He made a little face, resigned to the fact that Jared would be doing all the drinking tonight. But hey, if it loosened him up, then it would be easier for Jensen to take advantage of him.
The steaks were excellent, and Jared appeared to enjoy the beers he had, but he cut himself off at three, making mournful eyes at Jensen. "You takin' advantage of me, man?"
Jensen grinned till his face hurt. "Tryin'. I'm a bona fide pro songwriter now, deserve me some hot young thing ready to put out." He put a hand on Jared's thigh, leaned in and nosed under his jaw, behind his ear, breathing out slowly and deliberately against the heated skin. "You up for the job?"
Jared's eyes were heavy with promise, and he shifted so Jensen could feel his interested cock. "Oh, I'm up for it."
They couldn't pay and get out of the place fast enough. Jensen drove, not a hardship at all. He drove most of the time now whenever he and Jared went out together. It made Jared happy that driving made Jensen happy. Of course this evening they were both going to be even happier, just as soon as they got into the garage and up the stairs into Jensen's bedroom and he got to strip Jared. He was thinking it over on the way, mulling whether to take it slow and drive Jared crazy by removing his clothing piece...by...piece, having him beg before Jensen had him naked, or just ripping everything off him and ravishing him. Jensen cast a sidelong look, and Jared was grinning back at him. Okay! Ravishing it would be!
When he was balls-deep, with Jared's legs hooked over his shoulders and his gorgeous cock in hand, pulling along with every stroke, he got to watch Jared come apart. He loved this. He loved being able to give this to the man he was so in love with he couldn't see straight some days. Jared, skin flushed, his hair sweat-damp, his eyes fallen shut and mouth open, gasping profanities every time Jensen stroked over his prostate, was a glory and a wonder, and Jensen couldn't believe he got to have this. "Come on, sweetheart, give it up. Come for me, man." And at the same moment Jared tightened down, squeezing Jensen's climax out of him, he spilled over Jensen's hand.
Jensen brought a warm wet cloth to clean them both up, then spooned up behind Jared, pulling up the sheet to cover them both, too warm yet for blankets.
"You going to tell me?" his lips brushed the nape of Jared's neck as he spoke, and Jared couldn't repress his shiver in reaction.
"Tell you what?"
"What's got you wound so tight? Working late so much lately. What's going on, Jared?"
" 'S nothing. Just a client being a pain." He didn't want to bother Jensen with a problem he should have been able to resolve weeks ago. The design should have been simple, elegant, but the client was the problem. The infernal woman kept requesting changes on the building she'd commissioned as a gallery for the local arts college. First she wasn't happy with the "flow" of the first of Jared's designs, then she wanted different heights for different exhibits: up two steps, down three, up two, up another five, then down two. He tried to explain that a design like that didn't meet legal disability accommodation requirements, but she effectively shut him down. Then a few days later, after talking over her plans with her bridge group, one of her friends had told her the building codes wouldn't allow the multi-step design because of access problems. She shared this information while glaring at Jared as though he had tried to put one over on her.
But the partners had palmed her off on Jared, and how he handled her had a huge impact on his being given larger accounts and more responsibility. So far he hadn't found an effective way of dealing with her irrational and swift-changing demands.
"Tell me."
"You don't need to know--"
"Dude, I'm feeling really good right now. I'm loving you a lot. Don't make me beat you."
Jared snorted, sleepily. The warmth and the comfort were lulling him towards sleep. "As if," he challenged.
"Don' make me pull this bed over," Jensen threatened, voice going soft and slurred. "I want to know what's going on with you. 'M Serious, man. Spill."
So he did. And by the time he was done, Jensen wasn't even asleep yet. He hugged Jared tight, and kissed him behind his ear. "Sucks, man. I think I know somebody. Lemme work on it." Jensen was snoring in the next breath.
Jared smirked to himself. "You 'know somebody'? Gonna put a hit out on her on my behalf? That's really sweet, man." A gigantic yawn overtook him, and he reached down and snagged the blankets, pulling them up and snuggling back into Jensen's warmth.
* * *
The weight gain and the swelling of his feet and ankles were the same as last time; his body growing clumsier and slower as the weeks wore on. He still felt like he was sharing his body with an invader, but the alien was important to Jared, so Jensen tried to work around the conditions he hated and resented. The nausea was much lighter after the first few weeks this time, and his appetite was better. His body was achier, though, like a tired rubber band, he thought. Still, he had his work, and things were good between him and Jared, and that was the important thing.
Mark was pleased to see them back, and though Jensen was no more interested in the second pregnancy than he had been in the first one, he was far less tense about it. He still brought his iPod to exams, and Mark addressed his comments, advice, and information to Jared.
On the weekends when Jared's family was in the house, the door at the end of the hall stayed locked. Few people wandered into the weight room, but a swimmer looking for a place to change would occasionally get sidetracked, or go exploring. The door that apparently led to a closet was also locked, and few people were even aware that the weight room had been shortened by four feet along one wall; they never knew the stairs were there. The door stayed locked anyway though, unless Jensen was sure he was alone in the house with the staff and Jared.
Leslie was the weekday nanny. She lived in four days a week, on call 24 hours, and then off three. Jared hired a weekend nanny, too, Cecile, who was on call 24 hours the other three days. They time-shared one of the three bedrooms on the opposite end of the upstairs hall. Jensen had never met either of them, but he occasionally spoke with one or the other on the phone to coordinate an evening out with Jared, or some other event.
Jared continued to hold family get-togethers about once a month; his family came, not all of them every time, but there were usually more than a dozen. Jensen's family started coming, too, and Jensen would get very absorbed in constructing a melody during the hour or two of the party when his parents might be just on the other side of that locked door. He wanted to see them, to hug them and feel their arms around him. But he couldn't bring himself to unlock that door.
Jensen flatly refused to make appearances at the gatherings. He had allowed everyone the opportunity to track visual progress in the first pregnancy--it had seemed to be a requirement. But they now had the baby to appease them, and he'd proved his worth as a brood mare. He told Jared no, and after a couple of arguments, Jared backed down.
The best times, the times Jensen looked forward to, that made him happiest, were in the evenings. After Jared got home from work, had his dinner, and spent some time with his son, there would come a tap at Jensen's door. At his "come in," the key would turn in the lock, and Jared was his alone for the time, whether it was a quiet conversation on the couch, or a game of COD, some kissing and cuddling, or the whole night together in Jensen's bed.
At the end of Jared's day, after he'd played with the baby and talked to Leslie, or Cecile, about how his day had gone, after he'd had supper and, sometimes, showered and changed into sweats or lounge pants, or sometimes he just went with his tie loose and his collar button undone, and knocked on the door and waited for Jensen to welcome him in. Stepping into the sanctum, with its studio at one end and office-living room arrangement at the other, he immediately left his troubles and concerns at the door. Jensen's rooms were almost another world, and he sat and listened to the music Jensen was writing, or just sometimes old songs he played and sang. And then Jensen would lay the guitar aside, turn off the recorders and the computers and turn to Jared with that slow, sexy smile.
"Can you stay?"
And if the answer was "yes," then Jensen would kneel by the chair, or sit on his lap, or stand behind him and lean forward over his shoulder. He'd pull off the tie and unbutton the shirt, slip off the shoes and socks, flip open the belt, undo the button and slide the zipper down before helping Jared to stand and shed the clothes stained with the day's wear and tear, shedding the day's troubles along with them. Jared had to do nothing but let him. Sit, stand, sway in his direction, secure in the strength of Jensen's arms to right him if fatigue tipped him too far. Jensen might run them a bath, sitting behind Jared, cradling him skin to skin while he washed him with gentle swipes of the cloth, cupping warm water in his hand to stream down Jared's chest, or his shoulders, his back, or his belly. Or Jensen would lead him into the shower and wash him head to toe under the streaming water, rubbing him dry afterward with big soft towels. In Jensen's bed Jared would kiss and kiss those lips, those eyes, and Jensen would kiss right back: fingers, toes, ears, neck, navel, nipples, ass cheeks, thighs, the hidden places behind his knees, his belly, his groin, his balls, and finally, finally, take his hard and weeping cock into the warm wet cavern of his mouth and take his time to utterly destroy Jared.
TWENTY-ONE
The band asked Jensen to write liner notes for the CD cover, and copy for the press releases. He insisted he was a lyricist--it had been more than a year since he'd done any ad work, but Jason had a talk with him on IM one night, and convinced him to give it a try. The results were nothing special that he could see, but everybody else seemed enthusiastic, and the stuff Jensen had written became official band promo material.
His dad had a couple of new campaigns he emailed Jensen about, and they got on webcam to talk about them. One of the companies had images they insisted on using, and Alan was hoping Jensen could come up with a signature melody, and lyrics too, that would fit the images. He sent them in email and told Jensen to take a look and see what he could do. The second account direly needed copy, and a slogan that would set it apart from the other companies in the field, and Jensen said he'd work on that one as well.
Jensen and his dad seemed to recover their easy working relationship, almost as though they were in the same room. The give and take, the exchange of jokes and teasing went a long way to reestablishing "normal" for both of them. And when Jensen's projects turned out better than expected, Ackles Advertising started throwing accounts Ross Jensen's way, and the bank account just kept growing.
Jared grinned ear to ear at the change in the man he loved. This was as close as he'd ever seen Jensen to the man he'd glimpsed in the photos Repro had sent before they had ever met, and he was happy and relieved Jensen's depression seemed to have lifted.
* * *
Jared called it an early night, complaining of fatigue and achiness. The next evening, he'd developed a cough that didn't sound good. Jensen urged him to go to the doctor, but there was an important deadline looming, and he just didn't think he could spare the time right now. Soon, he promised Jensen.
He got absorbed by the plans, forgot and worked through lunch. Chad and the guys tried to tempt him out for drinks after work, but Jared just wanted to go home. Marta had a nice supper for him, and he should have been hungry, but nothing tasted good. He peeked in on the baby, but he was already asleep, and Leslie said he'd been fine all day, so Jared decided not to go in and kiss him goodnight. If this cough was contagious, he sure didn't want his little one catching it.
He felt like crap. He ought to avoid Jensen, too. And he would have just gone straight to bed, but he was just going to peek in and say goodnight. Jensen hugged him, sat him down on the couch and took his shoes off, put a pillow under his head and pulled the quilt off the back of the couch to cover him. "Just rest," Jensen told him, kissing his forehead before he went back to his guitar and the line he was trying to fit to the melody Jared had been hearing for about a week. Of course he dozed off, lulled by warmth and the sound of the music and Jensen's voice.
He woke up choking. He sat up, as a series of wet, heavy coughs tore out of him, leaving him wheezing for breath before another bout of coughing left him dizzy and sick. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs, and he couldn't stop the coughing.
A cool wet cloth swiped across his forehead, down one cheek and then the other, and around the back of his neck. It felt good, but he was still trying to choke back coughs.
He heard phone noises. Jensen was beside him on the couch, an arm around his shoulders to brace him as he coughed.
"Jeff? It's Jensen."
Jared tried to speak, but the effort was lost in coughing. He reached for the phone, but Jensen moved it out of his reach.
"Listen, Jared is really sick. Can I ask you to come take a look at him?"
Jensen listened to Jeff for a moment before he spoke again. "Yeah, that may be the best thing. But if I do that, can you meet the ambulance, or at least go by the hospital? He shouldn't be alone." Another pause while Jeff spoke. Jared did his best to hold back, but the coughing shook him, and left him gasping. He couldn’t stop it. Jensen's expression was worried, and he kept a hand on Jared's back in an attempt to soothe and support. "Well, you know I would, in a heartbeat. But, see, I can ride in the ambulance with him, but once they take him back for treatment, I'm not allowed to be in a public place, you know, by myself. They won't. I mean--" Jensen's features twisted in frustration and worry, "Fuck, Jeff, it's all fucked up. He's really sick. I can't send him off by himself unless I know you're going to meet him there."
The frustration was giving way to pissed off, now. "I hate to ask you to come out, but you're the only choice I have. And if you have to go out to get to the hospital, you might as well just come by here. There may be treatment we can manage at home--" Jared did his best to nod. He didn't want to go to the hospital; he wanted to stay here.
Jeff apparently agreed. Relief swept over Jensen's features, and his hand tightened on the back of Jared's neck. "Thanks, man. I'll get Marta to let you in."
"Bronchitis," Jeff diagnosed, phoning in prescriptions for delivery. "Keep him in bed tomorrow, and if he isn't noticeably better, the next day, too."
Jared started to protest, but Jeff wouldn't let him. "Do what Jensen says, or your ass is going to wind up in a hospital bed. You want that?"
Jared emphatically did not, so an hour and a half after Jensen's call, Jared let himself be tucked into Jensen's bed and dosed up with heavy-duty cough meds and antibiotics.
"Lots of fluids, rest, stay on schedule with the meds. And if he's not better in two days, call me." He clapped Jensen on the shoulder as he turned to leave.
Jensen looked at him so sternly that Jared apologized by reflex. "I'm sorry, Jensen."
"Dude, you should be. I had plans for us tonight!" He crawled up on the bed to sit propped against the headboard and pulled Jared into his arms, Jared's head on his shoulder.
"Oh," Jared said carefully, attempting to avoid coughing. "Now I really am sorry."
"Ass," Jensen kissed him on the forehead. "It'll keep. Go to sleep."
"Work," Jared reminded him.
"Already called. Left voicemail for your secretary."
Jared heaved a sigh and settled in more comfortably. "'kay," he mumbled before he allowed himself to sleep.
* * *
"Hey." It was a little unusual for Jared to call so late in the day.
"Hey yourself. What's up?"
"Matt asked me and Chad and a couple more of the guys over to his place tonight. Pizza and a few rounds of HALO, or something." Jared paused, but there was no reply from Jensen. "Jen, is that okay with you?"
"Um. Sure, Jared. So, I'll see you tomorrow night, then?
"What? No, wait."
"Well, I'll probably be in bed before you get home, and you'll be gone in the morning when I get up, so I'll just plan on seeing you tomorrow evening, right?"
Jared sighed. "Yeah, okay." Late pregnancy was taking a toll, and Jensen seemed to be sleeping whenever he could.
Jared could hear the indulgent grin. "Have a good time. It's about time you had some fun with your boys. I'll see you tomorrow."
He sighed. "Okay, man. You feeling all right? Anything you need me to bring you? Rocky Road? That juice mix you like?"
"Yeah, I'm good. And we've got Rocky Road in the freezer—Marta never lets me run out."
"Okay," Jared still felt obscurely guilty for leaving Jensen alone all day and all evening too. But Jensen was insisting he go. "You call if you need anything, or just if you want me to come home," he instructed.
"Jared, I'll be fine," Jensen insisted. "You go, have fun. There's a Bruce Willis marathon on—bet me how far in I fall asleep."
Jensen recognized the signs of labor the second time. He anticipated how much it could hurt, and delayed calling Jared until the contractions were past uncomfortable and bordering on actually painful. He almost left it too late. Mark delivered Jared's daughter less than an hour after Jensen arrived at the hospital. "Next time," Mark admonished them both, "Get here sooner. Or he'll deliver in the parking lot."
Something like despair crossed Jensen's features at the words, "Next time." He watched Jared with the baby, but refused to hold her, or even look closely at her. Jared arranged for a private room with no visitors for Jensen. The baby was cared for in the nursery, where the nurses doted on her and her grandparents made faces through the glass.
They kept Jensen an extra day, and then let Jared take him home. He helped him up the stairs to his rooms, and got him settled in. Marta had put a handheld walkie-talkie on his bedside chest, which made him laugh. "You call me if you need some juice, or your pillow fluffed," she grinned at him, and left him to Jared.
Jared stretched out beside Jensen, head on his shoulder, nose snuffling his neck. "Missed you," he said.
"I can tell," Jensen grinned, leaning a little into Jared. "I missed you too." He dropped a kiss on Jared's hair, and shifted slightly in discomfort. Jared eased off the bed.
"You should sleep," he told Jensen. "I'm gonna be right over here, watching this awesome movie."
"Jared, you don't have to stay."
"I want to."
"You want to watch me sleep?"
He nodded emphatically, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest while he grabbed the remote with his other hand. "Tell me if this is too loud."
Ten minutes later, Jensen was snoring softly, and Jared lowered the volume nearly to mute, kissing Jensen on the top of his head before he slipped out to go check on the baby.
Jared had brought her home the day before, where her brother and her extended family waited to welcome her. After a while, partied out, she settled quickly to sleep in the nursery, watched over by Leslie, while her brother basked in all the attention, now that the interloper was gone. Jared spent a lot of time reassuring his not-quite-two-year-old he was going to be the best brother ever, before he took him upstairs and tucked him into bed as well. He stood watching his children sleep, and his mom came up behind him, slipping an arm around his waist.
"Wasn't so long ago you and Jeff were that small. Or you and your sister."
He grinned down at her from his great height. "And look at me now."
"Yes. Oaf." She reached up to pat his cheek. "Are you happy, honey?"
His smile spilled over with joy and pride. "I never thought I'd have this. Sometimes I can't believe they're mine."
She nodded agreement. Since Jared came out, she hadn't ever expected he would have children of his own, either.
"I wish—" He didn't finish his thought, and she prompted him.
"What, son? What do you wish?" Searching his expression, it wasn't hard for her to guess. "Is it Jensen?"
Jared nodded, tears sparkling a little at the one flaw in his happiness. "Yeah." He tipped his head down to rest against hers. "I love him, Mama. I love him so much, and I know he loves me. I just wish we could be a real family, all of us."
"He'll come around, eventually," she patted his arm in reassurance.
"No," Jared knew better. "He won't."
