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fufarawMORE THAN US
chapters 1-2
one
There was a knock on the doorframe, and his nearly-15-year-old leaned into the room. "Dad?"
"Yeah, bud?" He was pretty much done for the day, anyway. He swiveled his chair to face his son.
"Okay if me and Robby go swimming?"
The rule was that nobody was to go in unless there was someone watching. And no friends in the pool, unless there was an adult around. "Sure, dude. I'll be right down."
The grin flashed the proprietary Padalecki dimples before JJ disappeared. There was a herd of elephants with size 13 feet charging downstairs, the sound of the glass doors sliding open and shut, and then muted shouts and a mighty splash as somebody cannonballed into the pool. Jensen smiled to himself as he tidied away the sheets of music he'd been working on--or, not working on, as it happened. This song wasn't going anywhere. At least not today, he thought, sighing and pulling the door closed behind him as he headed downstairs. A gale of giggles and high-pitched voices drifted from the other end of the hall.
"Shannon?" he called. The voices shushed each other.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"You girls want a snack?"
A hurried consultation resulted in a, "No, thanks," so he continued down the stairs. Mac and his girlfriend were in the corner of the sofa in the living room, their heads together, his arm around her, her legs tucked up. Their voices were quiet, absorbed in each other; Mac didn't even lift his gaze to acknowledge his dad. Jensen didn't intrude as he continued into the kitchen. He started laying out prep for supper, and putting together some snack food while he was at it. JJ and Robby were having some sort of fight over a ball in the pool, laughing and splashing and calling each other ridiculous names as they swam and battled and swept gouts of water at each other. Jensen couldn't help his grin as he listened to their insults.
Jared was back east, somewhere in Rhode Island, looking at the construction of a new building he'd designed for a college campus dating back to the post-Civil War era. He'd been gone three days, expected to be back in two more. But it felt longer to Jensen. He missed his husband, missed talking over their days, and discussing their kids. Missed having Jared under his hands, too, but that didn't bear thinking about right now, with a houseful of impressionable teenagers. He let go of the thought, though the grin lingered a bit.
He'd had doubts about coming back to this house. It hadn't always been a place of happiness and peace for him; in fact, his first year here had been the worst year of his life. But their last two years in the house had been happy ones, with family nearby and friends, weekend cookouts, a houseful of people coming and going. Leaving had been hard; it had taken a lot of time and thought to make the decision to go. But Jensen couldn't regret it.
It had taken multiple trips overseas before they'd settled on what they wanted for their kids and themselves. They found a farmhouse in Ireland, walking distance from a village of modest size, with a couple of pubs, bookstores, a post office, and good schools. Despite the world's declining birth rate, this area had been less hard hit than many. There was a sizeable number of kids in and around the village, the schools were excellent, and there were lots of activities for children.
So eleven years ago, they bought the farmhouse, applied for Irish citizenship, and moved their family to Ireland. There were three unoccupied bedrooms they fitted up as Jared's office and Jensen's studio, with the best internet connection available. The third was a formally recognized guest room, though both offices could sleep guests at need. And there was need, as their family members visited often. Their friends came to stay too, especially when the members of the band Jensen wrote for and did occasional studio work with were touring in Europe or the UK. The Ackles-Padalecki kids got to know their cousins and their grandparents, their aunts and their uncles, both actual and courtesy ones, quite well over the years.
Most days after school would find a gaggle of youngsters doing homework, playing videogames, acting out adventures or plotting them with drawings and paints and markers on reams of pulp paper. More often than not, there were extras for dinner; Jared or Jensen would look up to find one or more of their own was missing, gracing someone else's dinner table, their seats here filled with other people's kids. It was a great time for their family, and it left them with mostly happy memories.
The reason for their move to Ireland was suddenly manifest the year Mac turned twelve. Ireland's screening for ceiver males was no less exacting than the same screening in the US, but the results were simply that, a question answered. Though parenthood was strongly encouraged, any action taken was up to the child and his family; there was no forced compliance. It was this practice that had prompted the men to move their family away from the US and home.
Jensen, Jared, and the kids had dual citizenship, it was a mere matter of filing some final papers to become exclusively Irish. They never actually got around to that, since Mac tested negative as a ceiver, and life went on pretty much as usual. Jensen couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief, even though there would be no pressure on Mac had he tested positive. Their boys knew about ceivers, and they knew what the testing meant. Before Mac's screening Jared had talked to Mac about it--had he thought about what it would mean to be a ceiver, if he tested positive? And though in Ireland he could still do other things as well, how did he feel about becoming a ceiver--was it something he might choose to be? He had that discussion again more recently, when it was JJ who was twelve, and whose turn it was for screening. JJ had tested negative as well, and those questions had never needed to be answered. Life moved on, and the kids were happy among their friends, were doing well in school, and were reasonably well-behaved, for intelligent, high-spirited offspring.
Things would have continued in their happy, familiar bywater if they hadn't gotten news last fall that Gerry was in the hospital undergoing tests. Jared had flown home right away to be with his family, and when the tests came back with troubling results, he realized that living half a world away wasn't close enough when his dad's time might be limited. He and Jensen had some heart to heart talks late into the night, and more discussions with the kids. They decided to move back to the US.
Jared hadn't sold his house, but had leased it out through the Ackles' interest group. Another family had lived there for a while, but more recently it had been used as a guest residence and conference center for small groups; the pool and gym, the number of bedrooms, and the open kitchen and gathering area made it well-suited for that use.
Jensen had wanted a new place--new to them--with no lingering bad memories, where the family could make new memories of their own. But two trips to their hometown had not resulted in any houses they liked enough to raise their kids in. They toured Jared's old house, and Jensen found himself remembering the good years before the move to Ireland, and letting go of the painful memories of his first years in the house. It was the right place for the family.
So here they were. With a pool full of teenaged boys, a clutch of teenaged girls upstairs, and a quiet young man whose attention was solely focused on the girl beside him. Who, Jensen now noticed, seemed to be sobbing quietly.
He grabbed a box of tissues and approached the pair, catching Mac's eye as he offered the box. Mac smiled his thanks, but didn't indicate a need for parental assistance. Sophie was a sweet girl, usually laughing and teasing Mac and his siblings whenever she was around. He'd never seen her upset like this before. He wouldn't intrude, but he'd ask Mac about it later.
"Soph," he said softly, and waited till she'd wiped her eyes and blown her nose before she looked up at him. "You staying for dinner? You know you're welcome."
She nodded. "Yes, please."
"Okay," he smiled. "You gonna call your folks, or you want me to do it?"
That got a watery smile. "You?"
He grinned and nodded. "You got it."
Checking again on the pool through the glass, he headed up the stairs to tap on Shannon's doorframe. "Nonni?"
The chatter subsided. Three young bodies in positions it hurt him to think about trying to achieve were draped over bed and chair and floor, with books and notebooks and pens strewn about them, and three pairs of eyes surveyed him.
"Are either of you girls staying for supper? I'm glad to call and ask, if you want me to," he offered. Both of them looked tempted, but they were each expected at home. So it would be five for supper, then, unless Robby wanted to stay. Jensen headed back downstairs to check on the guys in the pool.
* * *
"Her little brother's a ceiver. He's been gone about six months," Mac told Jensen. The other kids had gone up to bed, and when Mac got back from seeing Sophie home, Jensen asked why she had been crying. The news sent an atavistic shiver up Jensen's back. But this wasn't, ordinarily, bad news.
"Yeah, okay," Jensen nodded. "But that doesn't seem like something that would have her so upset, unless she's just missing her brother?"
Jensen could see Mac hesitate. His kid had to know he could trust him, it wasn't that. This was Sophie's secret, and he was wrestling over whether or not he could share it.
Finally, he met Jensen's eyes. "You know they're allowed to send mail, right?"
Jensen didn't know, his experience had been different, but he nodded.
"Even email, after a while. I'm sure it's read--even censored," the kid cocked a look under his brows that was surprising in its cynicism. "But Sam and Sophie have had a code since they were little. And Sam says he's not happy. That he doesn't want to be there. He wants to come home."
Jensen's heart sank. Poor Sam. "Aw, gee, Mac. I'm sorry."
"She can't stand it, Dad. She says he sounds really bad. ...And she wants to help him, but her parents don't believe her."
Jensen hesitated. He really didn't want to get too deeply into this, but Mac needed to be aware of how implacable the Department of Reproduction was when it came to ceivers. He clasped his son's shoulder and met his eyes.
"Mackie, I don't know how much good it would do, even if they did believe her."
"What do you mean?"
Jensen's gaze slipped away. "Once Repro gets their hands on somebody, they don't let go. Not unless there's a really good reason, like bad health or something."
"But that's not right--"
"Mac, listen to me." Jensen stared straight into the boy's eyes, willing him to hear what he had to say, and he tightened the hand on his shoulder, shook him, just a little, to enforce his words. "You do not, under any circumstances, want to say anything or do anything that will get Repro's attention. Do you hear me? Mackie, people--whole families' lives have been ruined for trying to fight the Department. Once they find a ceiver, there's no getting him back."
Mac's eyes went wide, staring at Jensen. His dad was usually pretty easygoing about stuff, ready to see both sides of an issue. This intensity was completely out of character for him, and Mac couldn't help but wonder why that was.
"It's a fight you can't win, bud," Jensen's hand loosened, lifted, and clapped Mac's shoulder. "I know you care about Sophie, and I could see she's upset. But--promise me." He ducked down a little to catch Mac's eyes. "Promise me you won't get involved."
Mac wasn't sure he could keep such a promise, not when he was with Sophie again and felt how upset she was over Sam. But he had to give his dad some sign of agreement, so he nodded, and hoped it would be enough.
"Good man," his dad smiled a little, accepting the nod, and dropping the subject. "You got all your homework done?"
"Just calc left," Mac told him, and started upstairs to finish his assignment before bed. He hooked an arm around his dad's neck as he went. "Thanks, Dad."
"Love you Mackie. G'night."
* * *
The wheels barked a couple of times on the tarmac, and then Jared relaxed as they slowed to taxi. As often as he flew, landings still made him a little anxious. He'd planned to take a cab home, but Jensen was waiting, his wide grin a warm welcome. He hugged Jared and took the garment bag and briefcase, leaving Jared to shoulder the backpack and trundle the suitcase behind him. They stowed the baggage and Jensen pulled out into the stream of traffic. "Your mom called this morning."
Jared's expression was a little apprehensive. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, she called you first but you must have been in the air. Your phone was off, so she called the house. Your dad had his check-up yesterday. His numbers are great, she said."
Jared grinned. "Oh, that's good!"
"Yeah," Jensen nodded. "He played the back nine yesterday afternoon, and he's almost back to his regular handicap, she said." His husband's smile was wide, but there was a little glisten in his eyes, too. It had been a long while since Gerry had been able to play a full round of golf. He gave Jared a minute, and then while he was merging onto the expressway he asked how the job had gone.
They talked about the building progress, and the songs that were currently giving Jensen trouble, and then talk inevitably shifted to the kids. Shannon was acing all her classes, and had decided to go out for debate team again.
"Good," Jared commented. "Put that fast-talking sarcasm of hers to good use."
Jensen snickered. "JJ's shot up three inches since you left."
Jared quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Three whole inches?"
"Well, seems like it. The shoulders on that kid--they just keep getting broader, and Jared?" Jensen paused for dramatic effect. "He's in the shower 20-30 minutes, sometimes twice a day." His brows went up, and he waited, straight-faced, till Jared barked out a laugh and shook his head.
"Well, I guess it's about time," he grinned. Their youngest was a late bloomer, and the Ackles-Padalecki males, all four of them, had started voicing concern that puberty might have passed him by.
Jensen snickered. "Yeah, no kidding. We gotta have the talk with him, though. His room is pretty rank."
He clicked on his turn signal and checked the mirrors. "We may have to get a firehose in there to scrub those shower walls." Turn completed, he jabbed a finger at his husband. "I tell you what else, he's washing his own goddam sheets. Eugh."
JJ was in the kitchen, and he lunged at Jared for a hug, which was eagerly returned. "Hi, runt," Jared set his youngest at arm's length to look him over. "My god, you have grown."
Jensen nodded, "Told you," he said, opening the oven to check on dinner. "About ten minutes. Where is everybody?" he asked JJ.
"Nonni's in her room, practicing her debate stuff." JJ reached for an apple from the bowl on the bar, but Jared's hand tapped his knuckles: too close to supper. "Sophie called, and Mac went out. He said to tell you he'd be home early."
Jared exchanged a glance with Jensen. "He knew you'd be home," Jensen told him. He felt a little uneasy. He hadn't wanted to bring up in the car the conversation he'd had with Mac the other night, or the fact that Sophie's brother was asking to come home. They'd have to get into that before Jared saw Mac--the two of them needed to present a united front.
Jared shrugged. "It's okay. I'll see him before bed."
Dinner was fun, the kids were glad to have their Pop home, and Jared was happy to be back, so there was lots of teasing, lots of catch-up conversation, and lots of lame jokes, before the kids said goodnight and wandered off to get ready for bed.
Jared was loading the dishwasher while Jensen put leftovers away. He thought about making up a plate for Mac, but the kid had most likely eaten while he was out.
Their hands had that tendency to linger, to maintain contact, when they touched as they worked. They hip-checked each other as they passed, and finally, chores incomplete, their lips met, even as their bodies arched away from each other and toward their own unfinished tasks. "Nngah!" Jared's voice was ragged. "Finish up here. I can't wait any longer!"
Jensen was about to respond when there was a knock at the door.
There was a pair of uniformed officers on their front porch, between them, the eldest Ackles-Padalecki child.
"Mr. Ackles? Mr. Padalecki?" the larger and apparently more senior of the two asked, his hand on Mac's shoulder. Mac was trying hard to school his expression, but it wavered between apprehension, embarrassment, and anger. "Is this your son?"
Jared stepped forward with a grim sort of smile. "Yes, officer, he belongs to us."
The hand lifted and Mac stepped into the foyer, stopping between his parents and unable to meet the eyes of either of them.
"He was with a bunch of kids down at the old high school, the one they closed down a few years ago when they consolidated?" The men nodded. There hadn't been enough students to keep all the schools in the city open and over the years the older facilities had been closed, one by one, and stood abandoned, for the most part. The tennis and basketball courts were used by the surrounding neighborhoods, and occasionally some group would ask to use a theater or a cafeteria for a community play or a meeting.
"They had a bonfire going, and there were some activists down there," the officer went on. "Talking all kinds of trouble. Not the sort of place a kid like him needs to be hanging around."
The other officer, younger, blond, shifted his weight. "Kids can get into a lot of trouble listening to the kind of things they were saying out there," he sent a look at Mac, and then at each of his parents. It was neither a kind nor a pleasant look. "Anti-Repro scum."
Jensen glared at Mac; it was Jared who spoke to the officers. "Well, we appreciate you bringing him home."
"Yes, thanks," Jensen stuck out a hand for the older officer to shake. "Rest assured, we'll see it doesn't happen again." Mac cringed a little at Jensen's tone, and Jared glanced at him, surprised.
Once the door closed behind the cops, Jared grabbed Mac in a hug. "What were you thinking?"
"Hi, Pop. Glad you're home."
Jensen let them have a moment, and then he stepped in. His voice shook with anger and with fear, and he couldn't hide it completely. "Mackenzie, get upstairs. Go to bed."
Jared turned, brows raised in surprise. Jensen flashed a glance at him, and then focused back on Mac. "You come straight home from school tomorrow, no friends, no side trips."
"I've got--"
"Not tomorrow you don't. Straight home. We'll talk about this then. Now go to bed."
Jared just stood and nodded, silently backing Jensen up. He did give his eldest a quick hug before Mac headed up the stairs to bed. He locked the front door, set the alarm, and then followed Jensen into the kitchen, where the last of the leftovers was disappearing into the fridge and the dishwasher was starting its cycle. Jared got the rest of the lights while Jensen finished up, and stood waiting until Jensen pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge.
"I wanted to talk to you before either of us said anything to him," Jensen sat down at the dining table, and Jared joined him.
"Okay," Jared agreed. "What's going on?"
"His girlfriend, Sophie? Her little brother, Sam, was taken as a ceiver a few months ago."
The back of Jared's neck prickled a little in apprehension. "And?"
"Mac says apparently Sam's teachers--trainers--whatever they are, read the kids' mail, so they can't say too much about their training. But according to Mac, Sam and Sophie have a code they've used since Sam was little, and he's getting messages to Sophie that he's not happy, and he wants to come home."
"Oh, crap."
"Yeah."
"So Mac wants to make Sophie happy and rescue her little brother?"
"Pretty much, yeah. I think that's the idea."
"Crap."
"Jared, I had this talk with him the other night. He promised me he would not get involved in anything that would get Repro's attention on him. He promised."
Jared's hand went out to cup the back of his husband's neck, squeezing at the tension there. "Jensen, it's gonna be okay. We'll talk to him together. We'll get the point across, how important this is."
Jensen sighed, and relaxed a little against the warmth of Jared's hand. "He's a stubborn kid."
"Yeah, but he's not stupid," was Jared's reply, and Jensen had to agree.
"Okay." He pushed back his chair and stood, hauling Jared up beside him. "Okay, tomorrow we lay down the law. But tonight?" Stretching up a little, he caught Jared's lower lip between his teeth, bit down gently and tugged a little before a quick lick and letting go. "I still have plans for you."
His hands wanted to shake as he shucked Jared out of his clothes, leaving them strewn on the floor where they would no doubt trip him, or Jared, when one of them got up to pee in the middle of the night. But once they were on warm, smooth skin, they settled, as did he, and he proceeded to take his husband apart, kissing every inch, licking all those secret spots known only to the two of them, murmuring a running torrent of filthy words and narration of what he was doing to make Jared come undone.
For his part, Jared was half-gone before Jensen ever laid a hand on him. He shouted when Jensen licked over his neck, behind his ear, huffed a scalding breath on the wet streak and then bit, hard, on the sensitized spot. He cried out when Jensen wrapped warm, strong fingers around his cock and jacked him, none too gently. And he rose off the bed to curl up and look into Jensen's face as he swallowed him down, one hand already slicked with lube and stroking the fine, soft skin behind his balls. Jared tangled his fingers in Jensen's short hair, gripping hard, tugging at his scalp, as Jensen hummed and sucked hard, two slick fingers and then three opening Jared up. Jensen pulled off and muscled up close, Jared's legs sliding up his arms to hook over his shoulders as his cock pressed against Jared's ass, and he pushed in, slow at first and then bottoming out in one long thrust. Jared shouted again, his back arched, head thrown back against the pillows while Jensen leaned over him, watching Jared's face as he fucked into him again and again.
Jensen watched him greedily, and when Jared was close, Jensen folded those clever fingers around his cock, stripping it and, eyes gleaming in the scattered streetlight, moonlight through the window, muttered, "Come on, Jared." And he did, shuddering with it, crying out again hoarsely as Jensen rode his own release.
Jensen eased out and off of him to lie, sated, beside him in the bed. Jared gathered him in close, Jensen's head on his shoulder, Jared's arms wrapped around him. "I have to leave home more often." He kissed the top of Jensen's head. "If this is the welcome home I get."
Jensen laid an arm across Jared's chest and nosed into his neck. "Or you could just stay home and have this all the time." His voice was soft and fading toward sleep. Jared smiled and closed his own eyes. It was good to be home.
The talk went about as well as expected. Mac sullenly agreed to stay away from anything having to do with anti-Repro activism, and he was grounded for a week, on pool-cleaning and laundry duties to keep him busy in his extra hours at home. Jensen grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and touched their foreheads together. "Kid. Kid." He shook Mac a little, gently. "You know we're only trying to protect you, right?"
Reluctantly, Mac nodded, and Jensen went on. "I know how wrong it feels not to act on this boy's behalf, not to be the hero for Sophie. But you gotta trust us on this." He dropped his hand and Mac pulled away, finally meeting Jensen's eyes.
"Yeah, Dad. I know."
"Okay, then."
Jared snagged Mac in for a quick hug, and then they turned him loose to go do homework. Jared sighed.
"He's a good kid. His heart's in the right place."
"He's just better off as far away from Repro as possible," Jensen responded. "All of us are."
two
Jared caught the officer's eye, and went over to say hello. "Hey. Jared," he stuck out a hand.
"Malik," the man offered, shaking it. About the same height as Jensen, Malik was broad and solid, a very intimidating figure, or a reassuring one, Jared thought, depending which side of the law you were on.
"Thanks for bringing our son home a few weeks back. He's at that age, wants to be a hero for his girlfriend, fight for a cause or something."
Whitfield smiled briefly. "Yeah, it's a tough age. They think they're grown, they know everything."
Jared nodded, with an exaggerated sigh. "Adults are stupid. They don't understand."
Malik laughed out loud. "If I had a nickel for every time--"
"You could retire early," Jared grinned. "Hey, are you off-duty?" When Malik nodded, he asked, "You got some time? Want to stop for a beer or something?"
Malik looked him over, assessing. "You got something you want to talk to me about, Jared?"
"What?" Jared's confusion was genuine. "Hey--no. I just, um. Wanted to say thanks, I guess."
"You already did that," Whitfield pointed out.
Jared nodded. "Yeah. Okay, sure. Well," he stuck his hand out again. "Nice to see you again. And thanks for coming out to talk to us."
Malik shook again, briefly, and Jared turned away to say goodbye to a few other people. Odd, he thought, walking out into a rain-washed evening. He wasn't sure what he had expected an off-duty cop to be like, but Whitfield wasn't it. Maybe cops just never did turn off that part of themselves.
* * *
He hung out in the garage after supper, pretending to sort through some old stuff for donation. Sure enough, Mac left about ten minutes after excusing himself from the table. He walked quickly down the sidewalk, unencumbered with basketball, mitt, or bookbag. Jared followed him, staying well back and mostly in the shadows. He paused to let Mac get far enough ahead not to hear, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
"Jensen?"
"Jared? Where are you?"
"I went for a walk, but I suddenly remembered I didn't close the garage door. Sorry."
"'s okay, I'll get it." The voice held a note of concern. "You okay? You want some company?"
"Nah," Jared was quick to reassure him. "I just need to work up a sweat, do some thinking. I may be an hour or two."
"Okay," Jensen sounded fine with it. "Call me if you want me to meet you. You know, come and pick your ancient ass up and cart you home."
Jared grinned. All was well between them. "You wish. I'll see you in a while."
Mac wasn't far ahead, and Jared easily caught up enough to keep him in sight, more than curious, needing to see where his son had been spending his evenings and weekends. Once he was no longer grounded, Mac was barely at home anymore. He made it to dinner maybe two nights a week. Sophie never seemed to stop by, nor did any of his school friends. Unless he and Jensen made a point of insisting Mac be present at a weekend gathering with extended family coming, Mac was out of the house and gone all weekend, "at friends'." He neglected to specify, or wasn't sure just which friends, or exactly where he'd be. He always answered his phone, though, and came home when he or Jensen insisted, so Jared didn't suppose they needed to crack down on him. Yet.
Mac had left the familiar neighborhood and Jared followed him, keeping his distance. He was headed toward downtown, moving through an area that was increasingly industrial, where the streetlights were farther apart, some of them broken and dark. The back of Jared's neck prickled with apprehension--where was Mac going? What had the kid gotten himself into?
A glow up ahead resolved itself into an oil drum fire in an empty lot, around which a crowd had already gathered, milling as more people arrived. Jared saw Mac cross the open area at the center, heading for the far side of the fire's glow, saw him envelop Sophie in a hug, and kiss her on the forehead. The girl leaned into Mac as though he was her source of strength, and he appeared pleased and familiar with the role of support for her. Arms about each other, they turned to face the fire and the crowd that was beginning to slow the moving about and the babble of talk, the calls of welcome and recognition.
Jared sought the shadow of the building diagonally across the street from the gathering as a vantage point to watch from. Stragglers continued to arrive, joining the fringes of the crowd. Now and then someone would call out in recognition and join another person, or a smaller group, whom they obviously knew.
The crowd quieted as a man stepped out from the people around him to stand alone in the light of the fire. All eyes were on him as he started to speak.
"You all know why we're here tonight. All of us have someone--someone in our family, a friend, or maybe a friend of a friend, who's been taken into servitude."
There was a quiet murmur of agreement, a nodding of heads, from those assembled.
"This is a custom that's been going on for generations, and our nation has just accepted that this is the way things have to be."
The man was average height, nondescript in appearance. But his voice was deep and rich, and there was a compelling note in it that commanded the attention of those gathered here.
"Well, it's time to stand up and say, 'This is not the way things have to be. This is not how they should be!'"
The murmur of agreement was louder this time.
"There is a crisis, we all know it. There aren't as many babies being born as there used to be, as there should be to keep us going, to keep the world going. We need to do all we can to increase the odds in favor of the human race. We need to see to it that more babies are born. We need to do aaall we can to care for and raise our babies."
Several voices in the crowd cried agreement out loud.
Jared had seen video footage of great public speakers like JFK and Martin Luther King, Jr. He had heard tales from his parents of going to church when they visited cousins who attended every Sunday, and he'd seen old-time preachers in movies. This speaker had, whether naturally or by cultivation, adopted that cadence and rhythm to his speech. Jared had to admit, it was effective. Even from this distance, he could feel the spark of electricity among the crowd, and see the excitement that was building. Mac and Sophie stood shoulder to shoulder, her arm around his waist, his about her shoulders, and both of their faces were rapt as they listened to the speaker.
"Not just the newborns, no," the man went on. "Not just the ones born today, or yesterday, or next week. No, we need to take care of the ones born years ago. The ones that are being taken from their families and forced into a life they didn't choose. A life they have no alternative to, no power to refuse."
More voices shouted agreement, and there was sobbing, here and there among the crowd.
"We have to protect our sons, and our brothers, our neighbors, that little boy that played on the swingset in our backyard with our own kids. We have to rescue the ones who are being held as prisoners of the state, trained as slaves, and awarded to rich men who can buy the privilege of continuing the line of their genes."
Comments had grown more frequent and louder as he spoke, and in response to his last exhortation a roar came from the crowd.
"I say we take back our sons, our brothers, our neighbors!"
The crowd shouted agreement.
"I say we rescue them from the hands of the government and the rich men who buy their servitude!"
Jared was growing increasingly concerned. The mood of the crowd was escalating past agreement and into dangerous arousal. He watched as Mac started to ease Sophie toward the fringes of the group, and suddenly became aware of distant sirens, fast approaching. He started to cross the street to get to Mac, but saw him scurrying away with Sophie by the hand, urging her along the back wall of the building that edged the open lot until the pair of them disappeared around the corner into the darkness.
The crowd continued to shout and the speaker kept exhorting them to action as Jared eased backward into shadow himself, and walked back the way he had come, toward the street corner. He saw Mac and Sophie further down on the other side of the street, coming his way, and wondered why they hadn't just kept going away from the rally. But then he took a good look at the couple. They walked hand in hand under the streetlights, just a boy and a girl out for an evening stroll.
The sirens grew louder and flashing red and blue lights came into view, and the young couple watched with mild curiosity when the cop cars streaked past, obviously not at all involved in whatever was going on. They continued on their stroll, definitely unconcerned and uninvolved, and Jared was impressed at the way they'd hidden in plain sight. He didn't look back to see what became of the speaker and the crowd that had gathered to hear him. He followed a block or so behind Mac and Sophie, just to see that they got home all right.
Mac walked Sophie to her house; they lingered on the lawn just outside the reach of the porch light. If they'd stood any closer they'd have been one being, Jared thought, remembering well how strongly intoxicating that feeling was. She raised her face and Mac kissed her with, Jared noted with a little grin, pretty practiced technique. Or maybe it really was just honest emotion. They broke apart, unwillingly, and Mac waited until she'd climbed the porch steps, gone inside and closed the door behind her. Only when he saw the light come on in an upstairs window did he move toward the sidewalk.
Jared hesitated. Should he catch up to the kid and let him know he'd been followed and watched? Or would it be better to lay back and continue to observe from a distance? As much as Jared's nature wanted to have things out in the open, discretion won, for now. He'd wait. And watch.
* * *
Jared tried to be aware of Mac's comings and goings. He had a real uneasiness about letting the boy attend the rallies. He knew following him was no real kind of protection, but at least if he was there, Jared felt, he might do something to keep Mac from getting arrested.
Things went on pretty much as normal, day by day. Jensen was deep into a new album with Carlson and Kane, and he had a couple of songs he was co-writing with Manns as well. He disappeared into his studio every morning after breakfast and the kids went off to school. Jared spent his days in his office, working on plans for a new Civic Center in Montgomery, Alabama. He'd been out to survey the site, but he was having some difficulty adjusting for elevation while preserving the view, and providing accessibility, all within the budget. He couldn't take time from Jensen and the kids--especially Mac--to go back to Montgomery, so he sent an intern with the latest video gear to create a virtual tour of the site for him. So far it seemed to be working. The plans were coming more into line with his vision. Just talking the committee down from using the most top-of-the line materials list where possible would bring the project in near, if not below, budget.
Once in a while he would go upstairs and knock on Jensen's door, or Jensen would appear in the doorway of Jared's office, and they'd go for a run, or walk down to the food court for a takeout lunch. In the sun, in the park where they'd settled on a bench today to sip their coffee, Jared noticed there was a scattering of silver among the close-cropped hair at Jensen's temples. The crows feet at the edges of his eyes were deeper, but no less heart-stopping when he smiled. The years had not been unkind to the man, Jared noted, unsure if it was love, won through years of working at it, adapting to each other, accommodation and making room for each other in their lives, their plans, their hearts, that made his breath catch and his dick swell, or just pure lust. Jared suddenly hated the fact they were right out here in bright daylight in a public park. He wanted to swarm all over his husband, wrap him up in a cage of his arms and kiss him senseless, before he peeled him out of his clothes and taught Jensen what smiling like that did to Jared.
Jensen's conversational patter stuttered to a stop as he faced Jared, finally, and took only an instant to decode the look in his eyes. "Or, we could race each other home," he offered, jumping to his feet and flinging his half-full coffee into the nearest trash receptacle. "And you could tear all my clothes off before the kids get home."
Jared didn't bother replying; he just surged to his feet and ran. He heard Jensen swear as he took off after him. Jared's longer legs were an advantage, but Jensen was a fast runner. And the man had stamina. They were pretty much head-to-head as they pounded up the driveway and into the house.
They were wrapped around each other, breathing each other's air and biting at lips and necks and pulling at each other's clothes almost before they got the front door closed behind them.
"Kids still at school?" Jared mouthed Jensen's jaw, and felt his swollen dick leap in response where it rubbed against Jared's hip.
"Got an hour and a half," Jensen gasped into his mouth, hands tugging frantically at his shirt, trying to pull it off him.
Jared palmed him, and pulled away, a dancing stagger toward the stairs. "Upstairs!" he gasped, as Jensen's hand dove down the front of his pants. How the man had gotten the button popped and the zipper down with Jared unaware he didn't know. But if Jensen hit bare skin, Jared would throw him down right on the flagstone floor of the foyer and teach him what lack of restraint was all about.
"Yeah?"
Oh god, he must have said that out loud. Jensen grinned, gnawing at Jared's Adam's apple and inching his fingers under the elastic of Jared's boxer briefs. "Gonna teach me? Right here on the floor?"
Jared practically lifted his husband by his clothes and hustled him toward the first step, a hard swat to his ass that turned into a squeeze as he bulled his way up after him, pushing Jensen ahead of him. "Bedroom. Now."
They made it inside the room, but not all the way to the bed. Jared pressed Jensen hard up against the dresser, planted a hand between his shoulders and bent him forward, reaching around to undo his pants and push them down past his knees. Snatching a tube of lube out of the sock drawer, Jared slicked his fingers and breached Jensen: one finger, two.
"Come on, come on, man. I'm good," Jensen panted, wiggling his ass back on Jared's hand. "Enough with the foreplay. Fuck me! Fuck me now." And Jared did, lining up and nudging into that heat, then pushing forward with one long stroke. Jensen's knees buckled at the intrusion, but Jared had a hand low on his belly, between his hips, and he held Jensen up until he got his feet under him again. Jensen grinned at him in the dresser mirror, feral, and Jared took that wild-edged grin as a challenge, pulling back and slamming in again, and again. Jensen's eyes were closed now, all his concentration on what he was feeling, what Jared was giving him, and as Jared gave and Jensen took it all, they sped toward their climax.
On the last ragged edge of control, Jared opened his eyes to see Jensen watching him, his mouth open to gasp for air, his lips round and wet. Jensen met his gaze and on Jared's next stroke, Jensen tightened down, just that little bit extra, and Jared yelled and came. Jensen's hand was flying on his own dick and he came a few seconds after, both of them blowing like racehorses at the finish line.
Jared lay forward over Jensen's back, coming down and slowing his breathing, till Jensen wiggled in protest.
"Hey. Sasquatch. Man, you weigh a ton. Stagger your happy ass over to the bed and flop there." Jared shuffled, not even bothering to remove his jeans or shoes, just flopping back, arms over his head, on top of the duvet. Jensen yanked his own underwear and pants up one-handed, high enough not to trip as he stepped into the bathroom to wash off. Tucked away and zipped, he came out of the bath with a warm washcloth, and gently wiped Jared down, planting a kiss right above his cock when he was done. "You napping or getting up?" he asked.
"What are my options?" Jared murmured, tempted toward sleep.
"Well, nap, I pull off your shoes and pants and tuck you under the covers," Jensen responded. "Getting up, I figure you can handle your own pants, right?"
"We got an hour?"
"Yeah, about that."
Jared patted the duvet beside him. "Come nap with me."
Jensen grinned and stood to fling the washcloth into the bathroom sink, pulled off Jared's shoes and pants, and then stripped down his own jeans and toed off his shoes.
"Mmm," Jared mumbled. "Set the clock. Don' want the kids thinking we sleep all day."
Jensen snickered. "Pretty sure that wouldn't be their first assumption." He set the alarm and crawled into bed, pushing the duvet aside and pulling up the top sheet to cover them both. He grinned a little at the quiet buzz of snores already coming from Jared.
* * *
It was unsettling when a voice at his shoulder spoke without warning.
"Keeping an eye on your boy?"
Jared couldn't help the startled flinch before he turned to recognize the officer, out of uniform and, Jared hoped, off-duty.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You here to arrest him?" He indicated with a nod the group gathered close around the speaker.
"Them?"
Whitfield smiled, dimples apparent. "Nah. Not tonight." At Jared's look of inquiry, he elaborated. "Just here to keep an eye on things. Keep things quiet and…not let 'em get out of hand."
Jared nodded, and swept the fringes of the group where the light didn't reach as well. "Your partner here?"
"Jake? Nuh-uh. Wouldn't find him here except to bash some heads." Whitfield leveled a look at Jared. "Jake's not as…tolerant…of these folks and their issues as some of us."
"And you are?" Jared's question was an invitation, and after a minute, Whitfield gave a sad little smile.
"You might put it like that."
When he didn't add any more to the reply, Jared said, "Maybe you'll tell me about it sometime."
Surveying the small crowd and not meeting Jared's eye, Whitfield nodded once. "Maybe I will."
* * *
"Where is that little friend of JJ's that used to hang around all the time?" Donna asked Jensen. "Bobby? Robby?"
"Yeah, Robby," Jensen confirmed. "I haven't seen him in a while. He and JJ have been friends since JJ started school here. I think they kind of support each other, watch each other's backs. Neither one of them is the biggest or the toughest kid in the class, and I guess having a wingman is good for avoiding pranks and stuff. " Jensen took another look around the back yard and pool, but JJ seemed to be talking with his cousins, and Robby was nowhere to be seen. "I don't know where he is today, though."
"JJ's really growing up," Jensen's mom said, a note of approval in her voice.
Jensen grinned. "Yeah, we were starting to worry a little bit, he's such a late bloomer. You watch, though. He'll wind up as tall as Jared."
Donna nodded, "You're probably right."
Gerry eased up behind them, holding out a plate for one of the burgers Jensen was just taking off the grill. "How's my granddaughter doing?" he wanted to know. "Is she still singing?"
Jensen picked out a particularly symmetrical and evenly-done patty for his father-in-law and slid it carefully onto the mustard- and ketchup-spread bun. "Not so much right now," he answered. "She seems to be concentrating on her new love for debate."
Gerry slapped on a slice of cheese and closed the bun, smiling in anticipation. "Ha! I'll bet she's good at that, fast-talking argumentative little--"
"--Independent-minded, self-sufficient, opinionated, and articulate young woman?" Jensen offered, with a smile of his own.
Gerry snorted. "Exactly so." He patted Jensen on the shoulder as he moved off toward the potato salad and deviled eggs.
Megan and her husband stopped by, and though Jeff was on call, he and his family came by to hang out for a little while, and Josh and his wife came by, too. Mackenzie was in Prague at the moment, the only family member absent. The party went on till shortly after nightfall, when the relatives began taking their leave. Mac, Shannon, and JJ stayed long enough after everyone had gone to help clean up, but once the trash was bagged and the dishwasher on its second load, JJ asked to go over to a friend's house to work on a science project. Assuming it was Robby, Jensen agreed. Jared said he was going for a run, and took off without asking Jensen if he wanted to come along. Not long afterward, Mac left to spend the evening at Sophie's.
Jensen looked across the breakfast bar at his daughter. "You taking off?"
"No?"
"Jason's playing downtown. It's a supper club, I can get you in if I promise you won't drink. Want to go?"
A grown-up club? And a chance to see her courtesy uncle Jason? "Sure! Do I have time to change?"
"Half an hour. No more!"
"Okay!" Shannon raced up to her room, no doubt to try on a half-dozen outfits before she picked out one to wear. Jensen grinned. He was going to have the prettiest girl in the room on his arm tonight. And it would be great to see Jason; it had been a few months.
go to part two
chapters 1-2
There was a knock on the doorframe, and his nearly-15-year-old leaned into the room. "Dad?"
"Yeah, bud?" He was pretty much done for the day, anyway. He swiveled his chair to face his son.
"Okay if me and Robby go swimming?"
The rule was that nobody was to go in unless there was someone watching. And no friends in the pool, unless there was an adult around. "Sure, dude. I'll be right down."
The grin flashed the proprietary Padalecki dimples before JJ disappeared. There was a herd of elephants with size 13 feet charging downstairs, the sound of the glass doors sliding open and shut, and then muted shouts and a mighty splash as somebody cannonballed into the pool. Jensen smiled to himself as he tidied away the sheets of music he'd been working on--or, not working on, as it happened. This song wasn't going anywhere. At least not today, he thought, sighing and pulling the door closed behind him as he headed downstairs. A gale of giggles and high-pitched voices drifted from the other end of the hall.
"Shannon?" he called. The voices shushed each other.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"You girls want a snack?"
A hurried consultation resulted in a, "No, thanks," so he continued down the stairs. Mac and his girlfriend were in the corner of the sofa in the living room, their heads together, his arm around her, her legs tucked up. Their voices were quiet, absorbed in each other; Mac didn't even lift his gaze to acknowledge his dad. Jensen didn't intrude as he continued into the kitchen. He started laying out prep for supper, and putting together some snack food while he was at it. JJ and Robby were having some sort of fight over a ball in the pool, laughing and splashing and calling each other ridiculous names as they swam and battled and swept gouts of water at each other. Jensen couldn't help his grin as he listened to their insults.
Jared was back east, somewhere in Rhode Island, looking at the construction of a new building he'd designed for a college campus dating back to the post-Civil War era. He'd been gone three days, expected to be back in two more. But it felt longer to Jensen. He missed his husband, missed talking over their days, and discussing their kids. Missed having Jared under his hands, too, but that didn't bear thinking about right now, with a houseful of impressionable teenagers. He let go of the thought, though the grin lingered a bit.
He'd had doubts about coming back to this house. It hadn't always been a place of happiness and peace for him; in fact, his first year here had been the worst year of his life. But their last two years in the house had been happy ones, with family nearby and friends, weekend cookouts, a houseful of people coming and going. Leaving had been hard; it had taken a lot of time and thought to make the decision to go. But Jensen couldn't regret it.
It had taken multiple trips overseas before they'd settled on what they wanted for their kids and themselves. They found a farmhouse in Ireland, walking distance from a village of modest size, with a couple of pubs, bookstores, a post office, and good schools. Despite the world's declining birth rate, this area had been less hard hit than many. There was a sizeable number of kids in and around the village, the schools were excellent, and there were lots of activities for children.
So eleven years ago, they bought the farmhouse, applied for Irish citizenship, and moved their family to Ireland. There were three unoccupied bedrooms they fitted up as Jared's office and Jensen's studio, with the best internet connection available. The third was a formally recognized guest room, though both offices could sleep guests at need. And there was need, as their family members visited often. Their friends came to stay too, especially when the members of the band Jensen wrote for and did occasional studio work with were touring in Europe or the UK. The Ackles-Padalecki kids got to know their cousins and their grandparents, their aunts and their uncles, both actual and courtesy ones, quite well over the years.
Most days after school would find a gaggle of youngsters doing homework, playing videogames, acting out adventures or plotting them with drawings and paints and markers on reams of pulp paper. More often than not, there were extras for dinner; Jared or Jensen would look up to find one or more of their own was missing, gracing someone else's dinner table, their seats here filled with other people's kids. It was a great time for their family, and it left them with mostly happy memories.
The reason for their move to Ireland was suddenly manifest the year Mac turned twelve. Ireland's screening for ceiver males was no less exacting than the same screening in the US, but the results were simply that, a question answered. Though parenthood was strongly encouraged, any action taken was up to the child and his family; there was no forced compliance. It was this practice that had prompted the men to move their family away from the US and home.
Jensen, Jared, and the kids had dual citizenship, it was a mere matter of filing some final papers to become exclusively Irish. They never actually got around to that, since Mac tested negative as a ceiver, and life went on pretty much as usual. Jensen couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief, even though there would be no pressure on Mac had he tested positive. Their boys knew about ceivers, and they knew what the testing meant. Before Mac's screening Jared had talked to Mac about it--had he thought about what it would mean to be a ceiver, if he tested positive? And though in Ireland he could still do other things as well, how did he feel about becoming a ceiver--was it something he might choose to be? He had that discussion again more recently, when it was JJ who was twelve, and whose turn it was for screening. JJ had tested negative as well, and those questions had never needed to be answered. Life moved on, and the kids were happy among their friends, were doing well in school, and were reasonably well-behaved, for intelligent, high-spirited offspring.
Things would have continued in their happy, familiar bywater if they hadn't gotten news last fall that Gerry was in the hospital undergoing tests. Jared had flown home right away to be with his family, and when the tests came back with troubling results, he realized that living half a world away wasn't close enough when his dad's time might be limited. He and Jensen had some heart to heart talks late into the night, and more discussions with the kids. They decided to move back to the US.
Jared hadn't sold his house, but had leased it out through the Ackles' interest group. Another family had lived there for a while, but more recently it had been used as a guest residence and conference center for small groups; the pool and gym, the number of bedrooms, and the open kitchen and gathering area made it well-suited for that use.
Jensen had wanted a new place--new to them--with no lingering bad memories, where the family could make new memories of their own. But two trips to their hometown had not resulted in any houses they liked enough to raise their kids in. They toured Jared's old house, and Jensen found himself remembering the good years before the move to Ireland, and letting go of the painful memories of his first years in the house. It was the right place for the family.
So here they were. With a pool full of teenaged boys, a clutch of teenaged girls upstairs, and a quiet young man whose attention was solely focused on the girl beside him. Who, Jensen now noticed, seemed to be sobbing quietly.
He grabbed a box of tissues and approached the pair, catching Mac's eye as he offered the box. Mac smiled his thanks, but didn't indicate a need for parental assistance. Sophie was a sweet girl, usually laughing and teasing Mac and his siblings whenever she was around. He'd never seen her upset like this before. He wouldn't intrude, but he'd ask Mac about it later.
"Soph," he said softly, and waited till she'd wiped her eyes and blown her nose before she looked up at him. "You staying for dinner? You know you're welcome."
She nodded. "Yes, please."
"Okay," he smiled. "You gonna call your folks, or you want me to do it?"
That got a watery smile. "You?"
He grinned and nodded. "You got it."
Checking again on the pool through the glass, he headed up the stairs to tap on Shannon's doorframe. "Nonni?"
The chatter subsided. Three young bodies in positions it hurt him to think about trying to achieve were draped over bed and chair and floor, with books and notebooks and pens strewn about them, and three pairs of eyes surveyed him.
"Are either of you girls staying for supper? I'm glad to call and ask, if you want me to," he offered. Both of them looked tempted, but they were each expected at home. So it would be five for supper, then, unless Robby wanted to stay. Jensen headed back downstairs to check on the guys in the pool.
* * *
"Her little brother's a ceiver. He's been gone about six months," Mac told Jensen. The other kids had gone up to bed, and when Mac got back from seeing Sophie home, Jensen asked why she had been crying. The news sent an atavistic shiver up Jensen's back. But this wasn't, ordinarily, bad news.
"Yeah, okay," Jensen nodded. "But that doesn't seem like something that would have her so upset, unless she's just missing her brother?"
Jensen could see Mac hesitate. His kid had to know he could trust him, it wasn't that. This was Sophie's secret, and he was wrestling over whether or not he could share it.
Finally, he met Jensen's eyes. "You know they're allowed to send mail, right?"
Jensen didn't know, his experience had been different, but he nodded.
"Even email, after a while. I'm sure it's read--even censored," the kid cocked a look under his brows that was surprising in its cynicism. "But Sam and Sophie have had a code since they were little. And Sam says he's not happy. That he doesn't want to be there. He wants to come home."
Jensen's heart sank. Poor Sam. "Aw, gee, Mac. I'm sorry."
"She can't stand it, Dad. She says he sounds really bad. ...And she wants to help him, but her parents don't believe her."
Jensen hesitated. He really didn't want to get too deeply into this, but Mac needed to be aware of how implacable the Department of Reproduction was when it came to ceivers. He clasped his son's shoulder and met his eyes.
"Mackie, I don't know how much good it would do, even if they did believe her."
"What do you mean?"
Jensen's gaze slipped away. "Once Repro gets their hands on somebody, they don't let go. Not unless there's a really good reason, like bad health or something."
"But that's not right--"
"Mac, listen to me." Jensen stared straight into the boy's eyes, willing him to hear what he had to say, and he tightened the hand on his shoulder, shook him, just a little, to enforce his words. "You do not, under any circumstances, want to say anything or do anything that will get Repro's attention. Do you hear me? Mackie, people--whole families' lives have been ruined for trying to fight the Department. Once they find a ceiver, there's no getting him back."
Mac's eyes went wide, staring at Jensen. His dad was usually pretty easygoing about stuff, ready to see both sides of an issue. This intensity was completely out of character for him, and Mac couldn't help but wonder why that was.
"It's a fight you can't win, bud," Jensen's hand loosened, lifted, and clapped Mac's shoulder. "I know you care about Sophie, and I could see she's upset. But--promise me." He ducked down a little to catch Mac's eyes. "Promise me you won't get involved."
Mac wasn't sure he could keep such a promise, not when he was with Sophie again and felt how upset she was over Sam. But he had to give his dad some sign of agreement, so he nodded, and hoped it would be enough.
"Good man," his dad smiled a little, accepting the nod, and dropping the subject. "You got all your homework done?"
"Just calc left," Mac told him, and started upstairs to finish his assignment before bed. He hooked an arm around his dad's neck as he went. "Thanks, Dad."
"Love you Mackie. G'night."
* * *
The wheels barked a couple of times on the tarmac, and then Jared relaxed as they slowed to taxi. As often as he flew, landings still made him a little anxious. He'd planned to take a cab home, but Jensen was waiting, his wide grin a warm welcome. He hugged Jared and took the garment bag and briefcase, leaving Jared to shoulder the backpack and trundle the suitcase behind him. They stowed the baggage and Jensen pulled out into the stream of traffic. "Your mom called this morning."
Jared's expression was a little apprehensive. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, she called you first but you must have been in the air. Your phone was off, so she called the house. Your dad had his check-up yesterday. His numbers are great, she said."
Jared grinned. "Oh, that's good!"
"Yeah," Jensen nodded. "He played the back nine yesterday afternoon, and he's almost back to his regular handicap, she said." His husband's smile was wide, but there was a little glisten in his eyes, too. It had been a long while since Gerry had been able to play a full round of golf. He gave Jared a minute, and then while he was merging onto the expressway he asked how the job had gone.
They talked about the building progress, and the songs that were currently giving Jensen trouble, and then talk inevitably shifted to the kids. Shannon was acing all her classes, and had decided to go out for debate team again.
"Good," Jared commented. "Put that fast-talking sarcasm of hers to good use."
Jensen snickered. "JJ's shot up three inches since you left."
Jared quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Three whole inches?"
"Well, seems like it. The shoulders on that kid--they just keep getting broader, and Jared?" Jensen paused for dramatic effect. "He's in the shower 20-30 minutes, sometimes twice a day." His brows went up, and he waited, straight-faced, till Jared barked out a laugh and shook his head.
"Well, I guess it's about time," he grinned. Their youngest was a late bloomer, and the Ackles-Padalecki males, all four of them, had started voicing concern that puberty might have passed him by.
Jensen snickered. "Yeah, no kidding. We gotta have the talk with him, though. His room is pretty rank."
He clicked on his turn signal and checked the mirrors. "We may have to get a firehose in there to scrub those shower walls." Turn completed, he jabbed a finger at his husband. "I tell you what else, he's washing his own goddam sheets. Eugh."
JJ was in the kitchen, and he lunged at Jared for a hug, which was eagerly returned. "Hi, runt," Jared set his youngest at arm's length to look him over. "My god, you have grown."
Jensen nodded, "Told you," he said, opening the oven to check on dinner. "About ten minutes. Where is everybody?" he asked JJ.
"Nonni's in her room, practicing her debate stuff." JJ reached for an apple from the bowl on the bar, but Jared's hand tapped his knuckles: too close to supper. "Sophie called, and Mac went out. He said to tell you he'd be home early."
Jared exchanged a glance with Jensen. "He knew you'd be home," Jensen told him. He felt a little uneasy. He hadn't wanted to bring up in the car the conversation he'd had with Mac the other night, or the fact that Sophie's brother was asking to come home. They'd have to get into that before Jared saw Mac--the two of them needed to present a united front.
Jared shrugged. "It's okay. I'll see him before bed."
Dinner was fun, the kids were glad to have their Pop home, and Jared was happy to be back, so there was lots of teasing, lots of catch-up conversation, and lots of lame jokes, before the kids said goodnight and wandered off to get ready for bed.
Jared was loading the dishwasher while Jensen put leftovers away. He thought about making up a plate for Mac, but the kid had most likely eaten while he was out.
Their hands had that tendency to linger, to maintain contact, when they touched as they worked. They hip-checked each other as they passed, and finally, chores incomplete, their lips met, even as their bodies arched away from each other and toward their own unfinished tasks. "Nngah!" Jared's voice was ragged. "Finish up here. I can't wait any longer!"
Jensen was about to respond when there was a knock at the door.
There was a pair of uniformed officers on their front porch, between them, the eldest Ackles-Padalecki child.
"Mr. Ackles? Mr. Padalecki?" the larger and apparently more senior of the two asked, his hand on Mac's shoulder. Mac was trying hard to school his expression, but it wavered between apprehension, embarrassment, and anger. "Is this your son?"
Jared stepped forward with a grim sort of smile. "Yes, officer, he belongs to us."
The hand lifted and Mac stepped into the foyer, stopping between his parents and unable to meet the eyes of either of them.
"He was with a bunch of kids down at the old high school, the one they closed down a few years ago when they consolidated?" The men nodded. There hadn't been enough students to keep all the schools in the city open and over the years the older facilities had been closed, one by one, and stood abandoned, for the most part. The tennis and basketball courts were used by the surrounding neighborhoods, and occasionally some group would ask to use a theater or a cafeteria for a community play or a meeting.
"They had a bonfire going, and there were some activists down there," the officer went on. "Talking all kinds of trouble. Not the sort of place a kid like him needs to be hanging around."
The other officer, younger, blond, shifted his weight. "Kids can get into a lot of trouble listening to the kind of things they were saying out there," he sent a look at Mac, and then at each of his parents. It was neither a kind nor a pleasant look. "Anti-Repro scum."
Jensen glared at Mac; it was Jared who spoke to the officers. "Well, we appreciate you bringing him home."
"Yes, thanks," Jensen stuck out a hand for the older officer to shake. "Rest assured, we'll see it doesn't happen again." Mac cringed a little at Jensen's tone, and Jared glanced at him, surprised.
Once the door closed behind the cops, Jared grabbed Mac in a hug. "What were you thinking?"
"Hi, Pop. Glad you're home."
Jensen let them have a moment, and then he stepped in. His voice shook with anger and with fear, and he couldn't hide it completely. "Mackenzie, get upstairs. Go to bed."
Jared turned, brows raised in surprise. Jensen flashed a glance at him, and then focused back on Mac. "You come straight home from school tomorrow, no friends, no side trips."
"I've got--"
"Not tomorrow you don't. Straight home. We'll talk about this then. Now go to bed."
Jared just stood and nodded, silently backing Jensen up. He did give his eldest a quick hug before Mac headed up the stairs to bed. He locked the front door, set the alarm, and then followed Jensen into the kitchen, where the last of the leftovers was disappearing into the fridge and the dishwasher was starting its cycle. Jared got the rest of the lights while Jensen finished up, and stood waiting until Jensen pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge.
"I wanted to talk to you before either of us said anything to him," Jensen sat down at the dining table, and Jared joined him.
"Okay," Jared agreed. "What's going on?"
"His girlfriend, Sophie? Her little brother, Sam, was taken as a ceiver a few months ago."
The back of Jared's neck prickled a little in apprehension. "And?"
"Mac says apparently Sam's teachers--trainers--whatever they are, read the kids' mail, so they can't say too much about their training. But according to Mac, Sam and Sophie have a code they've used since Sam was little, and he's getting messages to Sophie that he's not happy, and he wants to come home."
"Oh, crap."
"Yeah."
"So Mac wants to make Sophie happy and rescue her little brother?"
"Pretty much, yeah. I think that's the idea."
"Crap."
"Jared, I had this talk with him the other night. He promised me he would not get involved in anything that would get Repro's attention on him. He promised."
Jared's hand went out to cup the back of his husband's neck, squeezing at the tension there. "Jensen, it's gonna be okay. We'll talk to him together. We'll get the point across, how important this is."
Jensen sighed, and relaxed a little against the warmth of Jared's hand. "He's a stubborn kid."
"Yeah, but he's not stupid," was Jared's reply, and Jensen had to agree.
"Okay." He pushed back his chair and stood, hauling Jared up beside him. "Okay, tomorrow we lay down the law. But tonight?" Stretching up a little, he caught Jared's lower lip between his teeth, bit down gently and tugged a little before a quick lick and letting go. "I still have plans for you."
His hands wanted to shake as he shucked Jared out of his clothes, leaving them strewn on the floor where they would no doubt trip him, or Jared, when one of them got up to pee in the middle of the night. But once they were on warm, smooth skin, they settled, as did he, and he proceeded to take his husband apart, kissing every inch, licking all those secret spots known only to the two of them, murmuring a running torrent of filthy words and narration of what he was doing to make Jared come undone.
For his part, Jared was half-gone before Jensen ever laid a hand on him. He shouted when Jensen licked over his neck, behind his ear, huffed a scalding breath on the wet streak and then bit, hard, on the sensitized spot. He cried out when Jensen wrapped warm, strong fingers around his cock and jacked him, none too gently. And he rose off the bed to curl up and look into Jensen's face as he swallowed him down, one hand already slicked with lube and stroking the fine, soft skin behind his balls. Jared tangled his fingers in Jensen's short hair, gripping hard, tugging at his scalp, as Jensen hummed and sucked hard, two slick fingers and then three opening Jared up. Jensen pulled off and muscled up close, Jared's legs sliding up his arms to hook over his shoulders as his cock pressed against Jared's ass, and he pushed in, slow at first and then bottoming out in one long thrust. Jared shouted again, his back arched, head thrown back against the pillows while Jensen leaned over him, watching Jared's face as he fucked into him again and again.
Jensen watched him greedily, and when Jared was close, Jensen folded those clever fingers around his cock, stripping it and, eyes gleaming in the scattered streetlight, moonlight through the window, muttered, "Come on, Jared." And he did, shuddering with it, crying out again hoarsely as Jensen rode his own release.
Jensen eased out and off of him to lie, sated, beside him in the bed. Jared gathered him in close, Jensen's head on his shoulder, Jared's arms wrapped around him. "I have to leave home more often." He kissed the top of Jensen's head. "If this is the welcome home I get."
Jensen laid an arm across Jared's chest and nosed into his neck. "Or you could just stay home and have this all the time." His voice was soft and fading toward sleep. Jared smiled and closed his own eyes. It was good to be home.
The talk went about as well as expected. Mac sullenly agreed to stay away from anything having to do with anti-Repro activism, and he was grounded for a week, on pool-cleaning and laundry duties to keep him busy in his extra hours at home. Jensen grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and touched their foreheads together. "Kid. Kid." He shook Mac a little, gently. "You know we're only trying to protect you, right?"
Reluctantly, Mac nodded, and Jensen went on. "I know how wrong it feels not to act on this boy's behalf, not to be the hero for Sophie. But you gotta trust us on this." He dropped his hand and Mac pulled away, finally meeting Jensen's eyes.
"Yeah, Dad. I know."
"Okay, then."
Jared snagged Mac in for a quick hug, and then they turned him loose to go do homework. Jared sighed.
"He's a good kid. His heart's in the right place."
"He's just better off as far away from Repro as possible," Jensen responded. "All of us are."
Jensen was working on a song that had been giving him trouble for a while now. He seemed to have cracked it, and didn't want to stop while he was making progress, so Jared attended the monthly neighborhood association meeting alone. The association wasn't a formal group, just residents getting together to discuss relevant neighborhood issues, such as burnt-out or broken streetlights, broken playground equipment at the park, potholes in a street, or clogged storm drains. It was a good group, and someone always volunteered to get the matter resolved, and then report progress at the next meeting. There had been some vandalism and even a rash of break-ins in the area, and a guest had been invited to this evening's meeting to offer advice on securing your property. Jared recognized Sergeant Whitfield as one of the pair who'd brought Mac home a few weeks ago. Whitfield outlined some commonsense rules for safety and prevention, and answered a few questions, before he was thanked for coming. With no further business, the meeting was adjourned and, as usual, neighbors mingled a bit before heading home.
Jared caught the officer's eye, and went over to say hello. "Hey. Jared," he stuck out a hand.
"Malik," the man offered, shaking it. About the same height as Jensen, Malik was broad and solid, a very intimidating figure, or a reassuring one, Jared thought, depending which side of the law you were on.
"Thanks for bringing our son home a few weeks back. He's at that age, wants to be a hero for his girlfriend, fight for a cause or something."
Whitfield smiled briefly. "Yeah, it's a tough age. They think they're grown, they know everything."
Jared nodded, with an exaggerated sigh. "Adults are stupid. They don't understand."
Malik laughed out loud. "If I had a nickel for every time--"
"You could retire early," Jared grinned. "Hey, are you off-duty?" When Malik nodded, he asked, "You got some time? Want to stop for a beer or something?"
Malik looked him over, assessing. "You got something you want to talk to me about, Jared?"
"What?" Jared's confusion was genuine. "Hey--no. I just, um. Wanted to say thanks, I guess."
"You already did that," Whitfield pointed out.
Jared nodded. "Yeah. Okay, sure. Well," he stuck his hand out again. "Nice to see you again. And thanks for coming out to talk to us."
Malik shook again, briefly, and Jared turned away to say goodbye to a few other people. Odd, he thought, walking out into a rain-washed evening. He wasn't sure what he had expected an off-duty cop to be like, but Whitfield wasn't it. Maybe cops just never did turn off that part of themselves.
* * *
He hung out in the garage after supper, pretending to sort through some old stuff for donation. Sure enough, Mac left about ten minutes after excusing himself from the table. He walked quickly down the sidewalk, unencumbered with basketball, mitt, or bookbag. Jared followed him, staying well back and mostly in the shadows. He paused to let Mac get far enough ahead not to hear, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
"Jensen?"
"Jared? Where are you?"
"I went for a walk, but I suddenly remembered I didn't close the garage door. Sorry."
"'s okay, I'll get it." The voice held a note of concern. "You okay? You want some company?"
"Nah," Jared was quick to reassure him. "I just need to work up a sweat, do some thinking. I may be an hour or two."
"Okay," Jensen sounded fine with it. "Call me if you want me to meet you. You know, come and pick your ancient ass up and cart you home."
Jared grinned. All was well between them. "You wish. I'll see you in a while."
Mac wasn't far ahead, and Jared easily caught up enough to keep him in sight, more than curious, needing to see where his son had been spending his evenings and weekends. Once he was no longer grounded, Mac was barely at home anymore. He made it to dinner maybe two nights a week. Sophie never seemed to stop by, nor did any of his school friends. Unless he and Jensen made a point of insisting Mac be present at a weekend gathering with extended family coming, Mac was out of the house and gone all weekend, "at friends'." He neglected to specify, or wasn't sure just which friends, or exactly where he'd be. He always answered his phone, though, and came home when he or Jensen insisted, so Jared didn't suppose they needed to crack down on him. Yet.
Mac had left the familiar neighborhood and Jared followed him, keeping his distance. He was headed toward downtown, moving through an area that was increasingly industrial, where the streetlights were farther apart, some of them broken and dark. The back of Jared's neck prickled with apprehension--where was Mac going? What had the kid gotten himself into?
A glow up ahead resolved itself into an oil drum fire in an empty lot, around which a crowd had already gathered, milling as more people arrived. Jared saw Mac cross the open area at the center, heading for the far side of the fire's glow, saw him envelop Sophie in a hug, and kiss her on the forehead. The girl leaned into Mac as though he was her source of strength, and he appeared pleased and familiar with the role of support for her. Arms about each other, they turned to face the fire and the crowd that was beginning to slow the moving about and the babble of talk, the calls of welcome and recognition.
Jared sought the shadow of the building diagonally across the street from the gathering as a vantage point to watch from. Stragglers continued to arrive, joining the fringes of the crowd. Now and then someone would call out in recognition and join another person, or a smaller group, whom they obviously knew.
The crowd quieted as a man stepped out from the people around him to stand alone in the light of the fire. All eyes were on him as he started to speak.
"You all know why we're here tonight. All of us have someone--someone in our family, a friend, or maybe a friend of a friend, who's been taken into servitude."
There was a quiet murmur of agreement, a nodding of heads, from those assembled.
"This is a custom that's been going on for generations, and our nation has just accepted that this is the way things have to be."
The man was average height, nondescript in appearance. But his voice was deep and rich, and there was a compelling note in it that commanded the attention of those gathered here.
"Well, it's time to stand up and say, 'This is not the way things have to be. This is not how they should be!'"
The murmur of agreement was louder this time.
"There is a crisis, we all know it. There aren't as many babies being born as there used to be, as there should be to keep us going, to keep the world going. We need to do all we can to increase the odds in favor of the human race. We need to see to it that more babies are born. We need to do aaall we can to care for and raise our babies."
Several voices in the crowd cried agreement out loud.
Jared had seen video footage of great public speakers like JFK and Martin Luther King, Jr. He had heard tales from his parents of going to church when they visited cousins who attended every Sunday, and he'd seen old-time preachers in movies. This speaker had, whether naturally or by cultivation, adopted that cadence and rhythm to his speech. Jared had to admit, it was effective. Even from this distance, he could feel the spark of electricity among the crowd, and see the excitement that was building. Mac and Sophie stood shoulder to shoulder, her arm around his waist, his about her shoulders, and both of their faces were rapt as they listened to the speaker.
"Not just the newborns, no," the man went on. "Not just the ones born today, or yesterday, or next week. No, we need to take care of the ones born years ago. The ones that are being taken from their families and forced into a life they didn't choose. A life they have no alternative to, no power to refuse."
More voices shouted agreement, and there was sobbing, here and there among the crowd.
"We have to protect our sons, and our brothers, our neighbors, that little boy that played on the swingset in our backyard with our own kids. We have to rescue the ones who are being held as prisoners of the state, trained as slaves, and awarded to rich men who can buy the privilege of continuing the line of their genes."
Comments had grown more frequent and louder as he spoke, and in response to his last exhortation a roar came from the crowd.
"I say we take back our sons, our brothers, our neighbors!"
The crowd shouted agreement.
"I say we rescue them from the hands of the government and the rich men who buy their servitude!"
Jared was growing increasingly concerned. The mood of the crowd was escalating past agreement and into dangerous arousal. He watched as Mac started to ease Sophie toward the fringes of the group, and suddenly became aware of distant sirens, fast approaching. He started to cross the street to get to Mac, but saw him scurrying away with Sophie by the hand, urging her along the back wall of the building that edged the open lot until the pair of them disappeared around the corner into the darkness.
The crowd continued to shout and the speaker kept exhorting them to action as Jared eased backward into shadow himself, and walked back the way he had come, toward the street corner. He saw Mac and Sophie further down on the other side of the street, coming his way, and wondered why they hadn't just kept going away from the rally. But then he took a good look at the couple. They walked hand in hand under the streetlights, just a boy and a girl out for an evening stroll.
The sirens grew louder and flashing red and blue lights came into view, and the young couple watched with mild curiosity when the cop cars streaked past, obviously not at all involved in whatever was going on. They continued on their stroll, definitely unconcerned and uninvolved, and Jared was impressed at the way they'd hidden in plain sight. He didn't look back to see what became of the speaker and the crowd that had gathered to hear him. He followed a block or so behind Mac and Sophie, just to see that they got home all right.
Mac walked Sophie to her house; they lingered on the lawn just outside the reach of the porch light. If they'd stood any closer they'd have been one being, Jared thought, remembering well how strongly intoxicating that feeling was. She raised her face and Mac kissed her with, Jared noted with a little grin, pretty practiced technique. Or maybe it really was just honest emotion. They broke apart, unwillingly, and Mac waited until she'd climbed the porch steps, gone inside and closed the door behind her. Only when he saw the light come on in an upstairs window did he move toward the sidewalk.
Jared hesitated. Should he catch up to the kid and let him know he'd been followed and watched? Or would it be better to lay back and continue to observe from a distance? As much as Jared's nature wanted to have things out in the open, discretion won, for now. He'd wait. And watch.
* * *
Jared tried to be aware of Mac's comings and goings. He had a real uneasiness about letting the boy attend the rallies. He knew following him was no real kind of protection, but at least if he was there, Jared felt, he might do something to keep Mac from getting arrested.
Things went on pretty much as normal, day by day. Jensen was deep into a new album with Carlson and Kane, and he had a couple of songs he was co-writing with Manns as well. He disappeared into his studio every morning after breakfast and the kids went off to school. Jared spent his days in his office, working on plans for a new Civic Center in Montgomery, Alabama. He'd been out to survey the site, but he was having some difficulty adjusting for elevation while preserving the view, and providing accessibility, all within the budget. He couldn't take time from Jensen and the kids--especially Mac--to go back to Montgomery, so he sent an intern with the latest video gear to create a virtual tour of the site for him. So far it seemed to be working. The plans were coming more into line with his vision. Just talking the committee down from using the most top-of-the line materials list where possible would bring the project in near, if not below, budget.
Once in a while he would go upstairs and knock on Jensen's door, or Jensen would appear in the doorway of Jared's office, and they'd go for a run, or walk down to the food court for a takeout lunch. In the sun, in the park where they'd settled on a bench today to sip their coffee, Jared noticed there was a scattering of silver among the close-cropped hair at Jensen's temples. The crows feet at the edges of his eyes were deeper, but no less heart-stopping when he smiled. The years had not been unkind to the man, Jared noted, unsure if it was love, won through years of working at it, adapting to each other, accommodation and making room for each other in their lives, their plans, their hearts, that made his breath catch and his dick swell, or just pure lust. Jared suddenly hated the fact they were right out here in bright daylight in a public park. He wanted to swarm all over his husband, wrap him up in a cage of his arms and kiss him senseless, before he peeled him out of his clothes and taught Jensen what smiling like that did to Jared.
Jensen's conversational patter stuttered to a stop as he faced Jared, finally, and took only an instant to decode the look in his eyes. "Or, we could race each other home," he offered, jumping to his feet and flinging his half-full coffee into the nearest trash receptacle. "And you could tear all my clothes off before the kids get home."
Jared didn't bother replying; he just surged to his feet and ran. He heard Jensen swear as he took off after him. Jared's longer legs were an advantage, but Jensen was a fast runner. And the man had stamina. They were pretty much head-to-head as they pounded up the driveway and into the house.
They were wrapped around each other, breathing each other's air and biting at lips and necks and pulling at each other's clothes almost before they got the front door closed behind them.
"Kids still at school?" Jared mouthed Jensen's jaw, and felt his swollen dick leap in response where it rubbed against Jared's hip.
"Got an hour and a half," Jensen gasped into his mouth, hands tugging frantically at his shirt, trying to pull it off him.
Jared palmed him, and pulled away, a dancing stagger toward the stairs. "Upstairs!" he gasped, as Jensen's hand dove down the front of his pants. How the man had gotten the button popped and the zipper down with Jared unaware he didn't know. But if Jensen hit bare skin, Jared would throw him down right on the flagstone floor of the foyer and teach him what lack of restraint was all about.
"Yeah?"
Oh god, he must have said that out loud. Jensen grinned, gnawing at Jared's Adam's apple and inching his fingers under the elastic of Jared's boxer briefs. "Gonna teach me? Right here on the floor?"
Jared practically lifted his husband by his clothes and hustled him toward the first step, a hard swat to his ass that turned into a squeeze as he bulled his way up after him, pushing Jensen ahead of him. "Bedroom. Now."
They made it inside the room, but not all the way to the bed. Jared pressed Jensen hard up against the dresser, planted a hand between his shoulders and bent him forward, reaching around to undo his pants and push them down past his knees. Snatching a tube of lube out of the sock drawer, Jared slicked his fingers and breached Jensen: one finger, two.
"Come on, come on, man. I'm good," Jensen panted, wiggling his ass back on Jared's hand. "Enough with the foreplay. Fuck me! Fuck me now." And Jared did, lining up and nudging into that heat, then pushing forward with one long stroke. Jensen's knees buckled at the intrusion, but Jared had a hand low on his belly, between his hips, and he held Jensen up until he got his feet under him again. Jensen grinned at him in the dresser mirror, feral, and Jared took that wild-edged grin as a challenge, pulling back and slamming in again, and again. Jensen's eyes were closed now, all his concentration on what he was feeling, what Jared was giving him, and as Jared gave and Jensen took it all, they sped toward their climax.
On the last ragged edge of control, Jared opened his eyes to see Jensen watching him, his mouth open to gasp for air, his lips round and wet. Jensen met his gaze and on Jared's next stroke, Jensen tightened down, just that little bit extra, and Jared yelled and came. Jensen's hand was flying on his own dick and he came a few seconds after, both of them blowing like racehorses at the finish line.
Jared lay forward over Jensen's back, coming down and slowing his breathing, till Jensen wiggled in protest.
"Hey. Sasquatch. Man, you weigh a ton. Stagger your happy ass over to the bed and flop there." Jared shuffled, not even bothering to remove his jeans or shoes, just flopping back, arms over his head, on top of the duvet. Jensen yanked his own underwear and pants up one-handed, high enough not to trip as he stepped into the bathroom to wash off. Tucked away and zipped, he came out of the bath with a warm washcloth, and gently wiped Jared down, planting a kiss right above his cock when he was done. "You napping or getting up?" he asked.
"What are my options?" Jared murmured, tempted toward sleep.
"Well, nap, I pull off your shoes and pants and tuck you under the covers," Jensen responded. "Getting up, I figure you can handle your own pants, right?"
"We got an hour?"
"Yeah, about that."
Jared patted the duvet beside him. "Come nap with me."
Jensen grinned and stood to fling the washcloth into the bathroom sink, pulled off Jared's shoes and pants, and then stripped down his own jeans and toed off his shoes.
"Mmm," Jared mumbled. "Set the clock. Don' want the kids thinking we sleep all day."
Jensen snickered. "Pretty sure that wouldn't be their first assumption." He set the alarm and crawled into bed, pushing the duvet aside and pulling up the top sheet to cover them both. He grinned a little at the quiet buzz of snores already coming from Jared.
* * *
It was unsettling when a voice at his shoulder spoke without warning.
"Keeping an eye on your boy?"
Jared couldn't help the startled flinch before he turned to recognize the officer, out of uniform and, Jared hoped, off-duty.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You here to arrest him?" He indicated with a nod the group gathered close around the speaker.
"Them?"
Whitfield smiled, dimples apparent. "Nah. Not tonight." At Jared's look of inquiry, he elaborated. "Just here to keep an eye on things. Keep things quiet and…not let 'em get out of hand."
Jared nodded, and swept the fringes of the group where the light didn't reach as well. "Your partner here?"
"Jake? Nuh-uh. Wouldn't find him here except to bash some heads." Whitfield leveled a look at Jared. "Jake's not as…tolerant…of these folks and their issues as some of us."
"And you are?" Jared's question was an invitation, and after a minute, Whitfield gave a sad little smile.
"You might put it like that."
When he didn't add any more to the reply, Jared said, "Maybe you'll tell me about it sometime."
Surveying the small crowd and not meeting Jared's eye, Whitfield nodded once. "Maybe I will."
* * *
"Where is that little friend of JJ's that used to hang around all the time?" Donna asked Jensen. "Bobby? Robby?"
"Yeah, Robby," Jensen confirmed. "I haven't seen him in a while. He and JJ have been friends since JJ started school here. I think they kind of support each other, watch each other's backs. Neither one of them is the biggest or the toughest kid in the class, and I guess having a wingman is good for avoiding pranks and stuff. " Jensen took another look around the back yard and pool, but JJ seemed to be talking with his cousins, and Robby was nowhere to be seen. "I don't know where he is today, though."
"JJ's really growing up," Jensen's mom said, a note of approval in her voice.
Jensen grinned. "Yeah, we were starting to worry a little bit, he's such a late bloomer. You watch, though. He'll wind up as tall as Jared."
Donna nodded, "You're probably right."
Gerry eased up behind them, holding out a plate for one of the burgers Jensen was just taking off the grill. "How's my granddaughter doing?" he wanted to know. "Is she still singing?"
Jensen picked out a particularly symmetrical and evenly-done patty for his father-in-law and slid it carefully onto the mustard- and ketchup-spread bun. "Not so much right now," he answered. "She seems to be concentrating on her new love for debate."
Gerry slapped on a slice of cheese and closed the bun, smiling in anticipation. "Ha! I'll bet she's good at that, fast-talking argumentative little--"
"--Independent-minded, self-sufficient, opinionated, and articulate young woman?" Jensen offered, with a smile of his own.
Gerry snorted. "Exactly so." He patted Jensen on the shoulder as he moved off toward the potato salad and deviled eggs.
Megan and her husband stopped by, and though Jeff was on call, he and his family came by to hang out for a little while, and Josh and his wife came by, too. Mackenzie was in Prague at the moment, the only family member absent. The party went on till shortly after nightfall, when the relatives began taking their leave. Mac, Shannon, and JJ stayed long enough after everyone had gone to help clean up, but once the trash was bagged and the dishwasher on its second load, JJ asked to go over to a friend's house to work on a science project. Assuming it was Robby, Jensen agreed. Jared said he was going for a run, and took off without asking Jensen if he wanted to come along. Not long afterward, Mac left to spend the evening at Sophie's.
Jensen looked across the breakfast bar at his daughter. "You taking off?"
"No?"
"Jason's playing downtown. It's a supper club, I can get you in if I promise you won't drink. Want to go?"
A grown-up club? And a chance to see her courtesy uncle Jason? "Sure! Do I have time to change?"
"Half an hour. No more!"
"Okay!" Shannon raced up to her room, no doubt to try on a half-dozen outfits before she picked out one to wear. Jensen grinned. He was going to have the prettiest girl in the room on his arm tonight. And it would be great to see Jason; it had been a few months.
go to part two
