fufaraw | more than words

TWENTY-FIVE

He was used to driving, he'd driven lots of times, but it was a little different without Jared in the car running his mouth about something or other. There was nothing really difficult about it. Walking alone into the lobby at Ackles' Ads was...harder than he had expected. A little scary, as stupid as that sounded. Intimidating. Jensen mustered a smile for the receptionist, hired since he'd been here last, and a nod for the scatter of people going about their business as he made his way to his dad's office. Alan was on his feet and around the desk, smile blindingly wide. He hugged Jensen tight, no tighter than Jensen hugged back, though. When they broke, there were tears, manfully wiped away and ignored. His dad grabbed him again, and this time pounded his back before he let him go.

"So. You ready to get back to some real work?"

Jensen snorted. "As if you haven't been a slave driver all this time. Work, work, work, you're never satisfied, are you?"

They agreed Jensen would come in to the office two days a week, and continue to work from home. Alan introduced him around the office to those with whom he'd only worked online till now. He said hello to people he'd known, before. And then he hugged his dad once more before he drove over to the Ackles house, and let himself in the side door. His dad had called ahead, so she wasn't taken completely by surprise. His mom was waiting; her embrace was like coming home.

They spent the afternoon together, she showing him over the house and the changes and improvements they had made, talking about their plans for a tour of Europe in the fall, would he like to come? He found himself hesitating. He should want to, shouldn't he? Why didn't he? The question simmered in the background of their visit while they talked. Every once in a while her hand would reach to touch him: his arm, his hand, his cheek. Tears flowed regardless of conversational topic, and were merely wiped away--they didn't dim the brilliance of her smile.

The sunlight was growing yellow and slanted when they heard the door, and Alan joined them in the family room. "You staying for dinner?"

Jensen stood, an excuse for another hug, as he smiled his regrets. "No, thanks. Not this time. I need to get home."

There was an abrupt silence, thick with meaning and possible misunderstanding. Jensen felt the urge to explain, but right then he wasn't sure what that would be. He stood for a last, long hug from his mom and promised both his parents. "I'll see you soon," he grinned in delight at the truth of it, and they couldn't help smiling back.

He showed up at a weekend get-together at Steve's, guitar in hand. Somebody took it and set it aside, and he was hugged and pounded and when he turned, Chris grabbed him and pinched his cheeks. "Jenny!" he grinned, adding his own hug and back-pounding. Steve pried him loose and stuck a beer in his hand and shooed everybody out the back to the deck.

There was music and laughter and lies and tall tales of beautiful women and gigs gone wrong, and gigs gone right, and cops, and more women--pretty much like always. Jensen found himself with a pretty nice buzz and a smile on his face, when a pretty little blonde plopped herself on his lap and started nibbling on his neck. He angled his jaw a little to give her room, and across the deck he caught Chris' grin. His eyebrows lifted along with his longneck in salute, and the grin stretched a little wider before he turned away.

Jensen squirmed in his chair. Things were getting interesting, and oh yes, right there--

But suddenly, everything felt wrong. Very, very wrong. He eased away from the really nice lips doing really--really--interesting things to his neck. He took the girl gently by her arms and set her on her feet as he stood up himself. She smiled up at him, that smile promising all sorts of more wonderful things, but he bent to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and turned toward the interior of the house with his phone in his hand.

"Jared?"

"Jensen? Something wrong?"

"Dude. I think I've had too much to drink. Can you come get me?"

Jared ran a finger up the length of Jensen's arm; the fine hair rose in its wake. Jensen had been frantic to get away from Steve's, had refused to say what had happened at the party. He manhandled Jared up the stairs and stripped him and himself in seconds, shoving him onto the bed and devouring him with kisses, biting, hands everywhere. Jared finally had enough, grabbed the lube and shoved a couple of fingers into him before he slicked himself and pushed in. Jensen arched beneath him, spilling a stream of filth from his lips, his hands everywhere: Jared's ass, his shoulders, his arms, his face, pulling him in, closer, closer. Jared rutted into him, giving him everything, and he took it all, mouth open and gasping, eyes wide and welling tears. Jensen convulsed, and came, and Jared pushed in again, and again, and spilled inside him, and eased down to lie covering him like a blanket, both of them breathing hard and covered in cooling sweat.

Jensen nosed at his jawline. "Love you."

Jared smiled. "I love you too. What was that all about?"

Jensen's head rolled back and forth a little on the pillow, and he gave a gentle snort. "Nothin'." Jared resisted the impulse to lean back and look into his face. He didn't reply; he waited.

"Little blonde," Jensen's voice was low, and Jared could hear something--guilt? uncertainty?--in it. "She. She was ready to go, man. Wanted me." He moved restlessly beneath Jared, and when Jared didn't move he could feel the tension in Jensen's body. Jared rolled enough for Jensen to slide out from underneath. He sat up on the edge of the bed, facing away, but he didn't go any further. "I wanted her, too." His voice was barely a whisper. "I was ready, bedrooms right upstairs. Wanted it. Been a long time."

Jared swallowed, but he didn't move, didn't say anything, and suddenly Jensen turned to face him, eyes blazing, face bright like it was lit from within. "And then all I could smell, and hear, and see--all I could feel, was you. Wanted your hands on me, your taste, my hands in your hair. Your goddamned long legs wrapped around me, the way you smell..." He made no move toward Jared, except for one hand reaching to stroke the back of his fingers along Jared's cheek. "...your fucking dimples, man." And Jared smiled, and produced the dimples. "I couldn't wait. It hurt not to have you right there in front of me, not to breathe your air."

Jared snickered.

"Yeah, cupcake, go ahead, laugh. I'm the girl," Jensen smiled. "I just--"

Jared reached out a long arm and dragged him back into bed, rolling him under and smothering him in kisses. He ran long fingers up and down his sides, tickling, and added a pinch here and there for good measure. Jensen giggled and squirmed and laughed till tears came. "Fucker! Get off me! Jared, Jared--ow, quit!" He howled with laughter and bucked hard, then Jensen suddenly got both hands free and grabbed Jared's face, gentling his grip as he stared up into his eyes. Jared looked back down, and stilled.

"You and me, man," Jensen stretched up for a kiss.

"Yeah," Jared agreed, kissing him back.

* * *

Crowds still made him anxious, but he was getting better. Driving in to work two days a week was old hat, now. He'd called Jared to meet for lunch a few times, and at least once a week he drove by and spent an hour or two with his mom. MacKenzie had flown in just to be there when he visited, and Josh brought the family by. His mom wanted to plan a family dinner, but he didn't accept right away.

"Is there a problem, Jensen?" his mom wanted to know.

"Just--" he took a deep breath. "I'd like to bring Jared."

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, and he stepped into the silence. "Think about it. We'll do something soon."

She leveled a look at him. "You could always come downstairs when we're at Jared's."

It was his turn to be silent.

The doors to his rooms were still locked. Occasionally he could hear running small feet, distant shouts of laughter or indignation or temper. But mostly he kept occupied with his music or his ad work. He thought he heard noises on the other side of the door while he worked on a song, but he wasn't curious enough to open the door to check it out.

Jared came every night: sometimes he brought supper for them to share, sometimes he came later. He stayed most nights, but sometimes he was tired and didn't stay.

* * *

He shopped for weeks until he found exactly what he wanted. He checked that Cecile would be in for the evening, asked Jared to dinner, and ordered the wine in advance. The food was excellent, the music was tasteful, the wine was wonderful. Both of them were replete, and Jared was relaxed and happy.

Jensen put his hand in his pocket, and cleared his throat. He pulled out the little velvet box and opened it to reveal the identical bands inside. Jared's eyes grew wide, and he searched Jensen's face to see if he was serious.

"Jared, we came to it by a rough road, lots of trials and troubles, not the usual way people find each other. But the simple fact is, you are the love of my life. There's never going to be anybody I'll love more. Marry me. Say yes."

Jared took the box and set it down on the tablecloth. There was a glint of tears in his eyes as he took both of Jensen's hands in his, squeezing a moment before he released them. He smiled, but it wasn't that joyous grin Jensen had expected, and he didn't meet Jensen's eyes.

"I want to say yes, right now, of course I do. Jensen, I love you. I never want to be without you, you know that. But--" He stopped, apparently unable to find the words. Or afraid to voice them. "Maybe we should talk about this at home," he suggested, and Jensen nodded. The evening hadn't gone with the wild joy and celebration he'd planned on, and there was a sense of anticipatory dread about what Jared would have to say. Jensen wanted whatever it was, and the consequences, safely in private.

Neither of them spoke on the drive home. Jensen headed toward the weight room and the stairs out of habit, and he paused when he realized Jared had hesitated at the door to the downstairs hall, his hand on the knob.

"Jared? You coming?"

Jared's expression twisted in a rueful smile, and he followed Jensen up the stairs, into his studio-office. Jensen shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of his desk chair. Jared shed his as well, throwing it over the arm of the sofa.

"Okay," Jensen braved the silence. "What's up?"

Jared studied him for a few seconds, then moved to run his fingertips over the surface of the door to the hall, finally flattening his palm against the painted wood. "This."

At Jensen's blank look of incomprehension, he dropped his hand and faced Jensen. He didn't come closer; he spoke from where he stood. "I'm tired of living in a divided house, Jen. I understood, before. I agreed to it then, because that's what you needed, and I wanted you to have whatever it took to make it better."

"But that's all over now. You've got your life back, your freedom. You're not--living in purdah, thank god. You know I love you, you know I want you, more than anything. But how can you ask me to go on living this way, with my house sectioned off? My family separated, under the same roof? It's not right. It's harder than it has to be, than it should be.

"I'm a package deal, you get that, right? I have kids. I can't marry you unless you're ready to accept my kids as well. To get to know them, learn to take care of them, be a second parent figure to them."

Jensen was silent. Stunned, a little. He hadn't expected this, hadn't really considered it. It was Jared he loved, Jared he wanted to be with. But Jared had other obligations, and other people to love. He was asking Jensen to love them, too, to share the obligation. Jensen's knees threatened to buckle, and he found the nearest chair.

"So it's up to you," Jared said. "Whether I say yes, or not."

Jensen nodded. "I don't--" His eyes sought Jared's. "I don't know if that's something I can do," he confessed.

Jared nodded. "I know. But are you willing to try?"

* * *

Jared had arranged for Cecile to keep the two younger children occupied. Jared himself observed from the nursery doorway as his son noticed the door, the one that had been shut his entire life. It was open. Tired but beloved 'Nochio clutched in one arm, the boy hurried along the hallway toward the irresistible lure of the unexplored, and hesitated cautiously at the threshold, leaning forward a little to peer inside.

"Okay, I'll look forward to hearing from you. I hope your client's pleased with the new song." Jensen listened to the other man chortle over his new acquisition until he signed off, and then folded the phone shut. A small sound made him turn.

Standing in the doorway, a limp Pinnochio doll cradled in an arm, was a little boy. Five years old, Jensen knew instantly. His hair was ashy blond, long enough to fall in unruly curls on his forehead and over his ears. "Hello," Jensen said. Green eyes looked up, and up, from where they'd been focused on the floor, until they met Jensen's own. "And who are you?"

"I'm Alan MacKenzie Ackles-Padalecki," the boy carefully enunciated. "But my Papa calls me Mac."

EPILOGUE

Mac was a serious little dude, Jensen discovered, with an urgent desire to know how things worked, a demanding quest for logic. Jensen was bemused to observe a beginning grasp of sarcasm, and felt vaguely responsible for that. But there was also Mac's ability to fall into giggle fits that Jared exploited mercilessly by tickling, and a love for stories. At five, he was beginning to read, and would climb into Jared's lap with a book or three almost anytime he found Jared sitting down, or could coax him to sit down, willing to attempt to read or be read to, either, as long as there was a story to share.

Shannon Rose was named in combination of their mothers' names, Sharon and Donna, Jared told him, and Rose for Ross. Jensen smiled his approval at the first and was surprisingly touched by the second. Physically she was Jared's child, long of limb, with skin that tanned easily and well, with tumbled chestnut curls and tip-tilted eyes. Those eyes, however, did not hold Jared's easy warmth and humor. They were assessing, as though she expected to be disappointed, and they were vivid green. Shannon was demanding, imperious, bossy with her brothers, and with any adults who let her get away with it. She was a far more difficult and prickly child than Mac.

But it was Shannon, Jared said, who, as soon as she could crawl, would sit beside the door at the end of the hall, rocking on her diapered butt to the music she heard through the door, and patting the wooden surface.

JJ, not named for Jared and him as Jensen had supposed, but Jeffrey Joshua, for their older brothers, was the one who had Jared's smile, his dimples, and the changeable cloud-colored eyes. His laugh was Jared's, easily triggered and infectious. He was a cuddler, and he immediately decided Jensen was a new adult to conquer. Jensen found himself with a lapful of sweaty-damp two-year-old, apparently content to be in contact with another human. JJ was easygoing and easy to please. Shannon's attempts to dictate rolled off him without making a mark, and he was as likely to follow Mac around and "help" with whatever his elder brother was doing as he was to attach himself to Leslie, Cecile, Jared, or Jensen. Jensen had yet to see JJ in meltdown. He didn't know if the kid ever did melt down.

Despite his fears and misgivings, Jensen had to conclude they were neat kids. Jared and the nannies got all the credit for that, no argument. But Jensen couldn't help watching each of them, realizing one day that he was searching for bits of himself in them: behavior, attitude, a flash of a pout or a grin. He saw his dad in Mac, the way he quietly kept a protective eye on his siblings, and his mom in the way he managed them, and the nannies if they let him, using charm and benevolent manipulation. Shannon had his dad's exacting standards about things. JJ had a little of Mackenzie's joy and anticipation, but it was hard to see much of anybody else past Jared's dimples and smile. But eventually Jensen was so intent on getting to know them, in learning who they were, he stopped searching for comparisons. He read to Mac, and asked the boy to read to him. It wasn't long before it was a toss-up whose lap Mac would head for if Jensen and Jared were both seated. Either was good with Mac.

The day he brought his guitar out to the back yard and sat in the shade to play, Shannon came and sat right in front of him, watching his fingers as they moved over the strings, and rocking a little. As soon as he'd played through the first verse, he heard her humming the melody. A little afraid he might not meet her standards, he sang the lyrics in harmony. She picked them up the next time, and kept solid on the melody. A little thrill went through him. He wished his friends could be here to see, his kid! Singing, and with no training. He couldn't wait for them to hear her!

Mac and JJ gathered near him, too, JJ collapsed on Mac's lap, since Jensen's was full of guitar. They hummed along a little. Mac had a decent enough voice; it would be better if he practiced, Jensen knew. JJ couldn't seem to find the tune, but that didn't seem to bother him. He was just happy to be included in this new thing with his brother and sister.

Jared met him at Murphy's; Jensen offered to buy. After steaks and piles of garlic fries and a couple of beers, Jensen waited until the table was cleared to pull the box out of his pocket. He set it, open, on the table, and leaned back to wait for Jared's reaction.

Jared's hand went out to stroke a fingertip over the curve of one of the bands. His eyes were clear and serious when they met Jensen's. "You sure, Jen?"

Jensen nodded. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And the kids? They're great kids, Jared. You've done a wonderful job with them. But I think it's time I picked up my share of the weight."

They watched Mac and Shannon playing in the grass under the trees. JJ was trying to settle for a nap on the blanket Cecile had spread in the shade, but Shannon insisted on "decorating" him with blades of grass and the odd clover and dandelion blossoms. Mac watched them both, ready to intervene if Shannon got too rough.

"He's very protective," Jensen smiled, and Jared nodded agreement.

He seemed to hesitate, but then he took a breath and continued, not meeting his husband's curious glance. "I've been kind of thinking about that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mac's kind of a quiet kid. He is very nurturing. He takes on the responsibility of the younger ones like it's his job."

"And that's a bad thing, how?"

"I don't-- No, it's not a bad thing, but..."

There was obviously something bothering Jared, and just as obviously he was having a hard time talking about it. "Spit it out, Jared. What's bothering you?"

"Jen, we know there's a good chance either of them could be ceivers."

A little chill ran up Jensen's spine, but he said nothing, waiting for Jared to go on.

"And, if it turns out Mac is, well, it sort of seems like he'd be good at it, you know? The way he's quiet, and how much he looks after the littler ones." Jared waited, but Jensen didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"Well, that would be a good thing. Right?" Jensen's voice was a little shaky, his tone uncertain. He sought Jared's eyes, but Jared's gaze was lost in the middle distance.

"That's just it. Is it a good thing? I mean, what if he wants to do something else? What if he's good at something else? Shouldn't he get to choose?"

Yes! Jensen agreed vehemently, but he kept his features impassive, wanting to know what Jared was thinking, how he felt. "What are you saying, Jared?"

"Jen, I know this is just how things are supposed to be." Jared fidgeted, the unfamiliar ideas making him uncomfortable and unsure. "We grew up knowing how things work, just accepted it." He looked at Jensen then, met his eyes and searched his expression for understanding. "I remember how things were for you--"

"We'd have him tested, both of them, when it's time," Jensen spoke reassuringly, playing devil's advocate, keeping to the government's policy line. "He'd have the training. It wouldn't be hard on him, it would be--normal, for him. It wouldn't be like it was with me."

"But." Jared was struggling, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from his son. From both his boys. "He should be able to choose. If that's what he wants, I think I'd be fine with it. But if he wants to play baseball, or be a world champion skier, or a marine biologist, he should get to do that." Jared's eyes found his husband's, and every bit of his uncertainty and emotion was apparent. "Shouldn't he get to do that?"

Jensen had a hard time speaking. There weren't words adequate enough to express how much he agreed, but he hadn't ever dared to believe Jared would arrive at this point of view. He was grateful for it, but it was also a frightening concept to think about.

"I think so, Jared," he said softly. "But what can we do? If he's--if either or both of them are ceivers?"

He waited, but Jared just stared at him, as though reaching here was hard enough, he'd never thought beyond this point.

"As I see it," Jensen offered, struggling to contain his emotions, to keep his voice neutral, to let Jared have the chance to think things through on his own. "We have three choices: we obey the law, give him--or both of them--over to the training and hope he's assigned to a good man, who'll be kind to him. If he's very lucky, his pere will love him, and be someone he can love in turn."

Jared nodded. This is how his world had always been ordered. It's what he'd always believed was normal, the way things were supposed to work. But he realized it was always someone else's sons becoming ceivers. He wasn't sure how he felt, now that his--that their--own children could be involved. His expression conveyed his uneasiness with this path.

"We can leave," Jensen produced a second option, and Jared's attention was caught. "I have relatives in Europe, in Ireland. We could relocate there, where their ceiver program is different. It's voluntary, not mandatory, and a ceiver can retire when he wants, after one baby or a dozen, it's up to him. And even if he's identified, whether or not he has the training and becomes a ceiver is up to him, not the government."

Jared nodded slowly, frowning. "But our families, our friends, everybody we know," he mused. "It would be a whole new environment, a different culture. If we moved there, wouldn't you miss, I don't know, home?"

"Well, yeah," Jensen agreed. "But that's what we need to decide--what's most important to us? And how much are we willing to give up to keep it?"

Jared sighed, and nodded again. "You said there are three choices. What's the third?"

Jensen hesitated, then shrugged. "We fight."

"What?" Jared wasn't entirely sure he'd heard right.

"Surely we're not the only parents who are... who don't want to surrender their child and his happiness, his chances to achieve something he enjoys and is good at, to the purposes of the state. We can't be the only ones. So we find others, and we organize, and we get the laws changed."

Jared stared at him, speechless. The idea was treason, they could be arrested, jailed, and they would be if they did this and were discovered. He meant to reject the idea and respond angrily to Jensen for even mentioning it. He took a breath to say something harsh, but Mac's giggle reached him from across the lawn, and abruptly, his voice didn't work.

Jensen watched him with understanding in his eyes. "What are you willing to do?"

End

Author's note

First, I want to thank

wendy and

thehighwaywoman for all their hard and wonderful work organizing this beast and herding all the participants. It's a superhuman effort, and you guys make it look easy.

I am forever grateful for the two best betas in the world.

mickeym 's deep and empathetic response to the beginnings of this story and its projected storyline, and her insistence that it was Big Bang worthy--well, y'all have her to blame, that's all I'm saying. And we all have

spn_j2fan to thank for reassurance, hand-patting, and the hard job of nudging back on track a storyline that wanted to wander. More than once. Without their investment and support, none of us would ever have seen the middle, much less the end, of this story.

I owe

sophiap grateful thanks for a fast and dirty, remarkably sane POV check.
And my wonderful artist

bflyw emailed me less than 24 hours after I sent her the rough draft, excited and emotionally engaged, and already with a vision. That vision has stayed true, and only been refined and perfected since then. I'm so grateful for that vision, and for her generous, gorgeous expression of it attached to this story. Go tell her how much you love it! Her guidance to this first-time Big Bang poster has also been invaluable. The .pdf file is entirely thanks to her.

This story rose out of my personal unease with the status and the plight of women world over, and increasingly in the US. I have personal knowledge of the world before Roe v. Wade and ERA. I've confronted HR over wage discrimination, sexual harrassment, and dress codes. I've watched as the rights women so recently fought for and won have been eroded since by government and by intent of those in power and indifference of those affected, with younger generations of women unaware or unconcerned with what they're losing. Fearing where this erosion will lead, Jensen is my avatar for women: stripped of autonomy and ambition, kept separate from the world by restrictions and convention, hidden from public view and marked as separate, lesser, as owned property, by the clothing that identifies him and the purpose that remains for him.

But it's also a story about how love can happen even in unexpected ways and times, and what love means.

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