Archive of Our Own

There are flowers everywhere. Tall bouquets of red, yellow, and white lining the aisle. It’s a gorgeous day in Dallas, and the sun is pouring in through the stained glass windows, throwing rainbows on the pews and across the altar.

More than half of today’s attendees are wearing dress uniforms despite the late summer heat, crisp blacks and blues, freshly pressed for the occasion, with vibrant ribbon bars and metallic symbols of rank. There are patches with familiar logos and shiny badges.

As far as funerals go, Jensen Ackles supposes it could be worse.

He’s lost count of the number of people who have come up and offered their condolences for his loss in the same somber yet respectful tone of voice. Jensen only recognizes a handful of faces, those of his brother’s closest friends from the fire station, or the members of his former SEAL team who used to drop by their mom’s house when Jensen was in high school and Josh was home from duty for a month or two. All of them have gone on to say something kind about Jensen’s brother as if he didn’t already know what kind of man Josh was.

He’d been the epitome of Local Boy Done Good.

Fire Captain Joshua Ackles met every challenge head-on. When he saw danger, his natural response was “how can I help?” instead of “how do I get away?” He was a hero, leading by example, whether it was growing up and making sure no one messed with his mom or his baby brother, or later when he signed up with the Navy and eventually applied to join the SEALs.

“Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen blinks and finds himself facing Deputy Fire Chief Jeff Morgan, his brother’s former boss and good friend.

“Sorry, Chief. I just got a little lost.”

“You don’t need an excuse with me. I know how tough this must be for you.”

“Josh would have hated this, you know?” Jensen muses, knowing the chief will understand. “The somber music, the stuffiness. He would have preferred shots of whiskey at the bar, or a backyard party where people could relax and feel happy for a while.”

Jensen would have also preferred a simple service where his grief wasn’t on display for close to two hundred attendees. Where were all of these people when his brother was dying in a burning building?

Morgan sighs. “The department wanted to honor your brother.”

“Right,” Jensen mutters, “for his sacrifice and the way he died. That’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. Josh would have wanted his friends to remember the good times instead of dwelling on the bad.”

Jensen looks around the church. The service is over, the casket has been removed, soon to be on its way to the cemetery for a private interment later this afternoon. Jensen is only sticking around until he can thank Father LaPlante for the service. After that, he plans on grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the liquor store two streets over and following the casket to the cemetery so he can say goodbye to his brother without the suffocating stares of the assembled first responders, many of whom are strangers to him.

“Some of the crew from your brother’s station were asking if they could join you at the cemetery for the burial.”

“I wasn’t planning on having company. It’s just so the Navy can send him off with a proper salute.”

“They were his crew,” Morgan points out gently. “You’re his brother, Jensen, but they were part of his family too.” The chief’s hand falls on Jensen’s shoulder. The touch is supposed to be comforting, but Jensen feels like the weight is going to push him straight into the ground. “I don’t think you should be alone right now, either.”

“Fine.” Jensen doesn’t bother arguing. He knows how close Josh was to the men and women at Dallas Fire & Rescue Station 15. Morgan using that bond against Jensen is rubbing salt in the wound. He and Josh were blood; didn’t that count for more?

Morgan takes a deep breath. His uniform is as crisp and spotless as the rest of them, no trace of the chaos and dirt that Josh talked about wearing after a full shift. Then again, Morgan spends most of his time behind a desk managing half a dozen stations on this side of the city. When Josh was on shift, he went out on nearly every call, working alongside his crew to save lives and keep people safe.

That’s the reason he’s dead.

“Look, Jensen, if you need anything—”

“I’ll be okay,” Jensen insists. Morgan suddenly switching to his first name feels invasive. Jensen was trying to keep a little distance between himself and the first responders who filled the church. It’s not that he dislikes them—quite the opposite. Jensen had the utmost respect for his brother’s job, but he doesn’t feel particularly close to any of them. They’re mourning the loss of their captain; Jensen is suffering the death of the only true family he had left.

“There’s going to be a lot to work through in the next few months,” Morgan points out. Whether he sees Jensen’s turmoil or not, he doesn’t comment. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back. Anything from bringing over dinner to helping out with the paperwork coming your way.”

“People have dropped off enough food to last me a month.”

“I’m sure the crew down at Station 15 would appreciate anything you don’t want.” Morgan smiles. Unlike most of those Jensen has seen today, this one seems genuine. “I don’t need to tell you how much firefighters can eat during a shift.”

Jensen’s not sure his own smile passes muster, but he tries. “I’ll drop off some of it.”

“Good. Can I give you a ride over to the cemetery? I’m sure Hilarie won’t mind.”

“Thanks, but I need to finish up here.” Jensen nods towards the priest. “It won’t take long.”

“Say no more.” In the middle of turning to walk away, the chief stops. “We take care of our own, Jensen. Just remember that, alright? You might not think you need the help right now, but facing this alone is tough.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll reach out, I promise.”

This time, Jensen is the one who walks away. He doesn’t want Morgan to read the look on his face and know that Jensen just flat-out lied.

Jensen stands a few yards away from the grave that’s been dug for his brother’s casket. To the left of the hole stands a pair of matching headstones bearing his parents’ names.

At least his mom and dad could be here for Josh.

On the other side of the small tent set up to shield the site from the sun, a small group of firefighters and paramedics are standing in a circle, talking quietly. Jensen had done his best to listen to their quiet, heartfelt goodbyes, each one placing a lily on top of the flag-draped casket. He tuned them out, too busy reliving his own memories of Josh: growing up, becoming closer after their dad was killed in a car accident when Jensen was only six years old, watching Josh embrace his role at the fire department after leaving military service behind.

Jensen held back his tears when a member of the Navy, a man who served with his brother almost two decades ago, handed him the folded flag before striding away as Taps was trumpeted solemnly.

One by one, the assembled mourners take off, walking slowly down the hill where the Ackles family are laid to rest. It’s not until Jensen’s alone that he can breathe again. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t left the bottle of whiskey in his car.

There’s another oversized floral arrangement set up beside the casket. They’d been sent by other fire stations, even the local police department sent one that was set up in the church. Jensen told Father LaPlante to keep them there for Sunday services.

“Figured you would have appreciated that,” Jensen slips from thoughts to talking out loud. “Could never have flowers around the house because of your allergies anyway.”

A pair of sturdy men are waiting on the far side of the hill. He knows they won’t be able to do their job, filling in the grave, until Jensen leaves. Now that he’s talking, however, he can’t seem to stop.

“This is so messed up, Josh. I knew the risks of your job, but it was never supposed to be you. You weren’t supposed to leave me like this, not after Mom and Dad.”

The tears he held back for so long finally begin to fall. At least here, surrounded by his family, Jensen is safe to just let go. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, crying on the hillside and clutching the flag. Eventually, he realizes he needs to let the poor men do their job. Jensen can come back and visit Josh tomorrow when the tent is gone and the dirt moved back into place.

Jensen wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, startled by the sound of someone stepping up behind him.

“Looks like you could use this.”

He turns and sees an outstretched hand holding a red bandana. Jensen takes it and uses the soft cloth to wipe the last of the wetness from his face. He sniffles, the combination of flowers and tears wreaking havoc on his sinuses, and looks up into a face he never expected to see again.

It would be impossible not to recognize Jared Padalecki.

He is standing there with a kind smile, his hazel eyes soft as he watches Jensen take in his abrupt appearance. The expression is a complete one-eighty from the last time Jensen saw him over three years ago. Back then, he’d looked at Jensen with frustration and disappointment before he had turned and walked out of Jensen’s life. For good, he’d thought at the time.

Jared breaks the silence with a single word. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jensen says awkwardly. He’s still holding the tear-stained cloth. “Sorry about your bandana.”

“You need it more than me right now, and I’ve got plenty at home.”

Like every other firefighter Jensen has seen today, Jared is wearing his dress uniform. Black jacket embellished with gold buttons, white shirt with a black tie, and black shoes. He’s wearing his badge on his chest and the emblem of the Dallas Fire Department on his left shoulder. He’s carrying his hat under his arm, leaving his chestnut brown hair to blow in the light breeze.

He looks good, but that’s not an appropriate thought for Jensen to be having right now amidst the hopelessness and grief.

“What are you doing here?” Jensen asks, confused. There’s no way Jared would have come for him; they simply never had that kind of relationship.

“I missed the funeral. Deputy Chief Morgan brought in a crew from the 2-7 to man the station. Since I’m the new transfer, he asked me to stay back and help. I thought I could make it here for the burial, but I guess I’m too late, huh?”

Jensen frowns as he puts the pieces together. “Transfer? You were working with my brother?”

Jared’s shoulders slump a fraction of an inch. “Yeah. I transferred in a couple months ago when a spot opened up at the 1-5. I figured you knew about that.”

“I never told Josh about us.” Even as he says it, Jensen remembers that there was no us back then. Not to Jared, anyway. “He never mentioned a new guy transferring in.”

“That makes sense.”

“Why did you transfer?” The last Jensen knew, Jared was working out of a fire station on the other side of the city. With the exception of the fire department connection, they lived in completely different circles, and in more than three years, they never ran into each other.

Jared scratches the side of his jaw. Jensen recognizes a nervous tic when he sees one. “The 1-5 is closer to my new place. I’d heard really good things about the captain and I was ready for a change.” He meets Jensen’s stare head-on. “I swear, Jensen, I didn’t know he was your brother until after I transferred.”

“But you figured it out pretty quickly.”

“Yeah. Cap talked about you a lot, and there was a photo of you guys on his desk.”

As Jared talks, Jensen is trying to work out how he feels about Jared being here. Everything in his head is scrambled. He wanted to be alone, especially here in the shadow of his parents’ graves. All day, he’s had to share his grief with other people and bear theirs in return. The weight is too heavy on his shoulders. Jared’s presence might not rise to the level of unbearable—at least he’s not offering more condolences—but it’s still a shock that he’s incapable of processing right now.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jared asks. “Do you want to go and grab a drink?”

“Look, Jared…”

“Not just with me,” Jared rushes to correct himself. “Some of the crew is getting together at Magnolia’s later. You should join us, maybe share some stories about Josh.”

“Thanks, but I’m not up for company tonight.”

“Shit, right.” Jared ducks his head. “Sorry, Jensen. Maybe some other time? Everyone would love to see you.”

“Sure, another time,” he agrees flatly. He can’t exactly admit to Jared that he doesn’t know when he’ll be ready to see everyone again. After today, he wants little to do with anyone from the fire department ever again. No matter how often he was reassured to the contrary today, they weren’t his family. Jared’s words sound just as hollow as all the others. No one cared about seeing him. “I’m gonna head home. Feel free to stay if you want.”

Jensen doesn’t wait for Jared to say anything else. With one last look at the freshly dug plot, he walks away, leaving Jared to mourn, or pay his respects, or whatever he came here to do.

By the time Jensen gets home, his only thoughts are for the bottle of warm whiskey he brought inside with him.

Jensen loses an entire day to his self-inflicted whiskey hangover.

Two days after the funeral, Jensen wakes up with a clear head for the first time since the night he came home from the hospital where Josh had passed away on the operating table. He’d been numbing the pain ever since, taking brief breaks for meetings with the funeral director and the memorial itself.

His sobriety certainly doesn’t feel like a blessing. Looking around the house, he sees just how much he’s let go over the last week. The laundry basket is overflowing, half of his plants have begun to wilt, and his mail is sitting in a precarious pile that’s about to tip over. Outside his front door, he finds three more wrapped bouquets from local florists and half a dozen containers of food.

Food. Jensen hasn’t felt like eating in days. Why doesn’t anyone ever think to leave booze?

He catches a whiff of ripe body odor courtesy of whiskey sweats and bitter tears, and forces himself into the shower. Jensen feels mildly better once he’s cleaned, but that only lasts until he checks his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks are faintly hollowed, his scruff has passed from rugged into unkempt territory, and his eyes are a dull greyish green.

Fortunately, there’s no one around to impress. He and his last boyfriend split up eight months ago and Jensen hasn’t even bothered to bring home a one-night stand in the time since.

Back in the kitchen, he brews a pot of Italian dark roast and takes stock. There’s an entire meadow of flower arrangements on his dining room table and a few vases on the counter. His refrigerator is full of unappetizing casseroles and desserts he doesn’t want to eat, with more dishes stacked on the kitchen island.

Every dish represents someone who cared about Josh. Jensen couldn’t avoid talking to a few of them, while others left the food at his door with a handwritten note. He preferred the ones who didn’t bother him, as he could only stand so many conversations about what his brother had contributed to the city, or how greatly he’ll be missed. Jensen would trade all of Josh’s accomplishments and heroics just to have him back.

The food is a reminder that people are putting their loss above his. Jensen doesn’t want them in his house anymore. Grabbing a few oversized grocery shopping bags, he packs up more than a dozen containers and heads out before he can second guess his decision.

Jensen needs to do this. Waiting would be worse.

When he pulls into the lot behind the firehouse, he spends another five minutes sitting silently in his truck while working up the courage to go in. He hasn’t been here in over six months.

Before his handyman business started taking off, Josh would invite Jensen to join him and the crew for meals at the station on a regular basis. He showed up a few times, feeling a little out of place amongst the first responders as they talked about the calls they’d responded to that day or people they met on the job, despite Josh treating them like they were all a part of the same family. Jensen preferred dropping by on his own when he knew Josh had endured a bad call and might need the support. That was Jensen’s way of paying Josh back for all the times he’d leaned on his big brother growing up.

Walking through the engine bay doors today, he feels like a stranger. The energy is different, colder.

Josh isn’t here.

He’ll never come striding out of his office with a smile and open arms ever again. Jensen’s breath catches in his throat. He shouldn’t have come here.

“Hey Jensen! What are—whoa, are you okay?”

He hears the voice, but doesn’t register anyone coming up to him until there’s a hand on his arm. Jensen recognizes Tahmoh Penikett, a man who’d worked with his brother for the last ten years, even before Josh was promoted to captain. He’s one of the few members of the 1-5 with whom Jensen is on a first name basis.

“I’m fine, I…” Jensen trails off. He can’t put what he’s feeling into words. “I need to sit down.”

With steady hands, Tahmoh takes one of the bags from his hands, guides him over to a bench, and sits down beside him. Jensen saw Tahmoh at the memorial—he delivered part of the eulogy—but they never got the chance to speak. Jensen knows, from things he overheard from some of the higher-ups that afternoon, that Tahmoh was serving as interim captain at the firehouse until someone could be promoted or transferred to fill the position.

After a few deep breaths, Jensen starts feeling more balanced. He takes in the familiar sounds of the firehouse all around him: the clang and pounding of truck maintenance, firefighters splitting up chores, and paramedics taking inventory in the ambulance. There’s no laughter. It’s too soon for that.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, being here is just—”

“I get it. This place doesn’t feel right without Josh. I still think he’s gonna walk in and start giving me grief about something.”

Jensen can’t manage a smile, though it’s soothing to hear that someone else is struggling, even if it’s barely a fraction of what Jensen feels.

“You know,” Tahmoh says, “the Deputy Chief told me to set up in Josh’s office, but I can’t bring myself to sit in there. I grab what I need and spread it out on one of the tables or on my bed. It’s gonna feel like his office for a long time.”

“Maybe they’ll bring in a new captain. Whoever it is won’t care.” Then Jensen realizes what he said. “Sorry, I know you’re in charge right now.”

Tahmoh waves off the apology. “Hey, it’s fine. Honestly, I never saw myself as a captain. That was always Josh’s role—he was the leader. I don’t know that I’m ready, but I knew Josh wouldn’t have wanted a stranger here running things while it’s so unsettled.”

Jensen nods. Josh used to tell Jensen how much he hated it when the department brass would send in someone from another station to assume command while he was either sick or traveling. A captain needed his crew’s trust, and that had to be earned.

“What’s in the bags?” Tahmoh asks, glancing down.

“A buffet.”

“Too many casseroles?” He laughs when Jensen nods. “Well, I know everyone here will appreciate the extra food. Your brother was usually the one who kept us fed. He was a damn good cook.”

“Our mom taught us.” The memory comes out of nowhere. Jensen speaks through the tightness in his chest. “She always told us that no son of hers would grow up to be useless in the kitchen.”

Tahmoh smiles. “Then she did a good job. Want some help carrying these inside?”

Jensen sets out a few of the cold dishes on the long community table while Tahmoh slides two of the casseroles into the oven. The remainder of the food goes into the refrigerator for later. As Jensen is pulling the lid off a Tupperware containing one of the many pasta salads he’s received, a blond man walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a smile, but as soon as he spots Jensen, it drops. Tahmoh looks over and waits, but the firefighter turns around and leaves before either of them can say anything.

Jensen sighs. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tahmoh says. “You have every right to be here. It’s just tough for some of them, you know? They might not know what to say yet.”

A few seconds later, another firefighter strolls into the kitchen wearing workout clothes. He doesn’t stiffen when he sees Jensen, though there’s a hint of sympathy shining in his eyes. Jensen recognizes him from a few of the meals he’d shared here at the station, though they’ve never talked.

“What’s up, Hodge?” Tahmoh asks. “Did you need something?”

“Just needed a couple of details for my report on the crash over on Laredo.”

Tahmoh nods. “Talk to Murray, he called dispatch when he was writing his AR earlier. He’s got all the details you need.”

“Will do, Moh, thanks.” Hodge takes a few steps before turning back to Jensen. “We’re all thinking about you,” he says solemnly. “You need something, you come to us, alright? We’ve got your back.”

And then he walks out, leaving Jensen staring after him. How can Hodge, a man about whom Jensen knows so little that he can’t remember if Hodge is his first or last name, make an offer like that? Why would anyone be thinking about him?

Tahmoh doesn’t say anything as he continues setting up the table for the feast Jensen has provided. When he’s finished, he offers Jensen a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Thanks, but I should probably get going.”

“Wait.” Tahmoh holds out his hand. When he continues, his voice is slow and hesitant. “There’s a lot of personal stuff in Josh’s office if you want to take a look.”

Fuck, Jensen never thought about that. He’s been occupied with taking care of things at Josh’s condo, which has been hard enough, but Josh’s office contains things like his commendations, personal photos, and mementos from his time on the job. Josh spent more time at the firehouse than he did in his own place.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Tahmoh nods sympathetically. “Okay, I’ll have someone box it up carefully so you can pick it up when you are ready.”

They both understand there’s no timeline for ready.

“You know,” Tahmoh continues, “you should let me send someone to help you out with whatever you might need this week. Errands, paperwork, moving furniture. Like you just heard, I’ve got a whole crew here who would be happy to volunteer.”

Jensen knows where this is going. Tahmoh’s tone is the same one Jeff Morgan used on the day of the funeral.

“I’m not a damn widow, Tahmoh.”

“I know, but you’re the captain’s family. We take care of our own.”

He’s getting sick of that phrase. Tahmoh and the Deputy Chief might have good intentions, but Jensen doesn’t need a reminder hanging around his house all the time, trying to fill his brother’s shoes as if that would make his pain easier to bear. Half of the men and women in the station right now were on his brother’s final call out, and would probably volunteer out of some twisted form of survivor’s guilt.

“I’ll manage,” he insists. “I just need some time, that’s all.”

“Chief Morgan told me I should assign someone. That’s protocol when something like this—”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s responsibility. I’m sure everyone here has better things to do, literal fires to put out.”

“All I’m saying is you should think about it, alright?”

Jensen crosses his arms defensively. Tahmoh takes it as a sign that the conversation is over.

“Let me walk you out, okay?”

They head back to the garage where the engine truck and the ladder truck are parked side by side, two gleaming red monstrosities. Jensen wonders which one carried Josh to his death. It’s too soon; he really needs to get the hell out of here.

Then, his gaze lands on the man standing beside the ladder truck across the bay. His back is turned, but Jensen sees long legs in dark blue uniform pants, a matching short sleeved shirt with the DFD emblem on the shoulder. The shirt is stretched across a broad back and around thick biceps, and his brown hair is gathered into a short ponytail, leaving the back of his neck bare.

“That’s our newest transfer,” Tahmoh says, mistaking Jensen’s stare for curiosity. “Jared Padalecki.”

Jensen doesn’t pick up on anything in Tahmoh’s body language that he knows about Jensen and Jared’s history, which makes sense considering Josh didn’t even know. And Jared certainly wouldn’t want anyone at the station figuring out that he once had a meaningless fling with the captain’s brother. It wouldn’t have earned him any brownie points, that’s for sure.

He plays along, feigning interest. “How’s he fitting in?”

“Pretty well. The guy’s a hard worker, really focused and smart as hell. He gets along with everyone, plays practical jokes when things get too serious. Cap liked him,” Tahmoh points out. “Brought him in a couple of months ago to replace Beaver when he retired.”

Jensen tries to reconcile Tahmoh’s description with the man he remembers. Jared was playful back then, too, but he never took anything seriously. He gorged himself on what life had to offer, never content with what he had. Jensen used to wonder how Jared made it as a firefighter with those kinds of commitment issues.

None of it matters, of course. Jared’s issues aren’t his problem anymore. He says goodbye to Tahmoh and hurries out of the station before Jared can turn around and see him there.

Death is paperwork.

That’s what Jensen learns over the next week as he’s forced to shift the majority of his workload onto his five employees so that he can file every form known to man, each one breaking him a little more.

Josh Ackles’ death was covered on every local news network; there were multiple articles about the fire and a front page obituary to which both Jensen and the Dallas Fire Department contributed. Isn’t that enough to satisfy the bank, the mortgage company, and the utilities that yes, his brother really did pass away?

Apparently not.

Jensen comes home too tired to cook and ends up eating a few of the dishes people left. Those deliveries have tapered off, fortunately. As bad as Jensen felt during the week of the funeral, it’s somehow even worse now, and he’s rarely up for talking to visitors. Emptiness has replaced the numbness he carried around since the memorial. Part of him wishes he could go back to feeling nothing, if only to escape the crushing depression that follows him around every waking moment.

Friday morning, he wakes up with the intention of getting back into some sort of routine, hoping to give his mind a break from the inexhaustible pile of paperwork involved in his brother’s estate. Jensen gets dressed and parks himself in his garage, which he’d converted to an office years ago when he started his handyman company. At first, it was only Jensen fulfilling service requests, but in the last two years he’s taken on five employees—four other bonded handymen and one coordinator, Misha, who is currently running their scheduling system and doing the accounting from his home while he looks after his newborn baby.

Once he’s in the garage, there are plenty of emails and jobs to distract him. He even makes it out to one appointment where he flushes and cleans a tankless water heater (and changes the filter in their air unit for free) for an elderly couple, beating his grand total of zero appointments the week before.

He’s on his way back to the house in his truck when he hears sirens. Instinct has him slamming on the brakes, screeching to a halt on the side of the road with the other cars as an ambulance screams by. Jensen can’t help but think about where it’s headed, how badly the person inside is hurt. His thoughts take a darker turn when he realizes he knows very little about what happened before Josh was taken to the hospital on the night he died. Who rode in the ambulance with him? Did Josh say anything before he was rushed into surgery? Someone must have the answers, yet Jensen doubts he’s strong enough to hear them.

It takes a full minute before Jensen’s pulse stops pounding in his ears and he pulls slowly back into traffic. Once he’s back home, he grabs a beer from the fridge and downs half of it in a matter of seconds. The siren is still ringing in Jensen’s ears, and he turns on the television just to have another sound in the house.

The knock at the front door catches him off guard.

Jensen’s employees work independently and they rarely stop by without calling first. He hopes to God it’s not an acquaintance of his brother’s bearing yet another tuna casserole.

When he opens the door, he reconsiders his stance on the casserole.

“Hey, Jensen. I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

Jared is standing on his front porch holding a banker’s box. He’s dressed in street clothes: boots, dark jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a nice black jacket.

“You remembered where I live?” Lord, Jensen’s mother would have had something to say about his rudeness.

“I’m good with directions, and I know this part of town pretty well now, driving the truck and all.” He shrugs like he hasn’t noticed Jensen’s attitude, yet his eyes are brimming with nervous energy. “Mind if I come in and set this down?”

Jensen steps back and lets him pass, trailing him to the kitchen where he sets the box on the counter. He hasn’t thought about Jared that often since their near-meeting at the station. When he does, it’s for strange reasons. Out of the blue, he’ll remember something Jared used to say, or catch a whiff of orange and chili pepper, scents he associated with their fling.

They stare at each other in silence; the moment is so awkward, Jensen swears he can hear the seconds tick by despite not owning a winding clock.

“What’s in the box?” he finally asks to break the shock of having his former fling standing in his house again.

“Oh.” Jared breaks eye-contact and looks down. “Tahmoh had to pack up the Captain’s things and he asked if I could drop them by on my way home.”

Jensen had purposefully forgotten about Josh’s office. He knows it’s a terrible idea, but he lifts the lid off the box and pulls out a framed photo of the two of them taken during Josh’s promotion ceremony. He’d been so proud of Josh that day; it showed on his face as he beamed for the camera. Confronting that memory leaves his eyes stinging. He quickly drops the photo back into the box, face down.

“Oh wow.” Jared took Jensen’s actions as an invitation to pry, and now he’s holding a framed newspaper article. “I didn’t realize the captain was at this fire.”

“It was his first major blaze.” Jensen recalls the fire that had nearly consumed a local hotel. Miraculously, everyone survived. According to the article, Josh had saved two lives that night.

“I lived right around the corner when it happened. Man, I think I was in high school!”

Jensen doesn’t need a reminder of their age difference. Granted, it was part of the appeal when they met. Jensen, nearing forty at the time, was flattered to have this gorgeous twenty-seven year old stud taking such an interest in him. It took a couple of months for Jensen to realize the interest was strictly physical and that Jared would rather run into a burning building than talk about his feelings.

“Are you moving?”

Jensen blinks. “What?”

Jared points to a pile of paperwork on the counter. “Checking out some condos?”

“That’s for Josh’s place,” Jensen tells him, sighing. Every time he pulls out the paperwork intending to push through, he’s overwhelmed with sadness. Selling Josh’s place feels like letting go even though he can’t afford a second mortgage. “I need to get serious about selling it, so I pulled some files from when he bought it, along with anything else I could find in his stuff.”

“Maybe I can help.”

Jensen doesn’t mean to laugh. “Firefighter by day, real estate agent by night?”

Jared lights up a bit at the teasing. “Hah, no. The woman who helped me buy my place last year is trustworthy. I bet she could help. I’ll have her email you, if you want.”

“Sure, why not. I’ve got a thousand other things to worry about anyway.” Jensen can’t understand why that statement seems to make Jared so happy; it’s better than the discomfort when he first walked in.

“Anything I can do?” he asks, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet like a labrador waiting to fetch. “My next shift doesn’t start until tomorrow afternoon.”

“And you have nothing better to do than help a guy get a handle on his dead brother’s affairs?” It comes out harshly; Jensen seriously needs to watch his mouth, but he lacks the emotional wherewithal to filter himself tonight. Jared, fortunately, doesn’t seem fazed.

“Nope, no plans tonight. What can I do?”

Jensen decides to humor him, figuring that Jared will get bored after half an hour and find some excuse to leave once he’s done his civic duty for the captain’s overwhelmed brother. Jensen hardly wants to play the man in distress, however, he’s hit a wall with Josh’s affairs and is desperate for some help.

“Let’s see, I’ve got utilities to deal with, a scholarship our old high school wants to set up in Josh’s name, and a lot of legal paperwork from the city and the department’s lawyers that I need to translate into readable English, so unless you also know a good lawyer…”

Jared winks. Winks. As if they’re two regular friends and there’s no three year void to worry about. “I happen to know a great lawyer. Hand me those.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You liked getting into trouble.”

Jared looks up. For a fleeting moment, the three years between who they used to be and who they are don’t exist. He didn’t mean for his words to sound flirtatious, but now that Jared is here, standing in front of him, Jensen can’t help it. There was always something utterly disarming about him. When that charm and confidence was focused on you, it was easy to forget about the consequences. Jensen mentally slams that door. He can’t handle any more heartache.

“Can you understand any of that?” Jensen asks when he sees that Jared isn’t merely skimming the legal documents. His brow is furrowed as he reads each page carefully.

“I hope so, or else my parents wasted a lot of money on law school.”

Jensen is speaking before his brain finishes processing the eye-opening revelation. “You went to law school?”

“Sure did,” Jared drawls with a cocky half-smile. “Even graduated and passed the bar, so you can pick your jaw up off the floor, Jensen. Anyway, I thought you knew that.”

“You never told me.”

“Huh.” Jared scratches his jaw in what’s becoming a familiar gesture. “It’s not a big deal or anything. My dad’s a lawyer, and it was always ordained that I’d follow in his footsteps, maybe even join the same firm. As long as they were paying for school, I didn’t mind. Hell, it’s not like I knew what I wanted to do with my life at that point.”

All of this is news to Jensen. Three years ago, if it didn’t come up immediately before or after they were having sex, it wasn’t something they wasted time on.

Now, Jared is sitting at Jensen’s counter studying each page thoroughly. His body is relaxed, yet his eyes are sharp and focused, and he’s not rushing through the documents. He genuinely appears to be taking his offer to help seriously, and Jensen wonders what else he missed when they ran so hot and heavy.

“Why the switch?” Jensen asks, sitting at the other end of the counter, unable to restrain his curiosity. “Why didn’t you go into practice?”

Jared takes a moment to ponder before he says, “I spent six months working as a first-year associate and I hated it. I started applying to other jobs, even the state police. Then, a friend of mine told me he was applying to the fire academy and I thought, why the hell not?”

He pulls his gaze away. There’s more to the story, Jensen realizes, but he has absolutely no right to push. The time for getting to know Jared has long passed.

“Plus, I was clearly meant to wear the Dallas Fire uniform.” There it is. That cocky smirk and unwavering confidence.

“I’m immune to it,” Jensen tells him.

“That’s not how I remember things.”

He can’t let himself get sucked back in, no matter how good it feels to talk about something other than death benefits and memorial funds. What Jensen and Jared had was hot, but it was nothing more than a brief spark. There wasn’t enough substance to catch fire. Jared made that perfectly clear when he told Jensen it was over.

Jared goes over the documents for nearly an hour while Jensen organizes Josh’s bank statements. He asks questions every so often or leans over the counter to point something out.

“I think I’ve got the basis of what’s here,” he says eventually, patting a thick stack of papers that Jensen has been avoiding. “The city wants you to waive your right to sue the department, but there’s also the matter of bringing a lawsuit against the building developers at the site.”

Jensen frowns. It never even occurred to him. “For what?”

“Wrongful death, negligence. If the building codes—”

“No,” Jensen interjects. His chest aches as he breathes fast and shallow. The thought of dragging Josh’s death through civil court induces immediate panic. “I don’t want any of that. Josh wouldn’t want any of that either.”

Jared pushes that particular stack to the side. “Okay. The rest deals with your brother’s estate, and I think that’s what you should focus on. He had a life insurance policy which pays out to you, plus his accounts and property.”

“Shit.” Jensen groans and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms. Although Jared sounds optimistic, it seems like an inexhaustible amount of work. “I mean, thanks, obviously. At least now I know a little about what I’m up against.”

“I’d be happy to help.” Jensen looks up and studies Jared’s earnest expression. “This is a serious offer, Jensen. I can’t cook you dinner or help you with your business, but I can totally do this. Put me to work, man.”

Despite what he told the Deputy Chief at the funeral and Tahmoh at the firehouse, now that someone is standing here sincerely offering a service, it’s difficult to say no. That that someone is Jared is a fact that Jensen is willing to overlook. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than having a stranger invading his space, and Jared seems to know what he’s doing. At least they won’t get attached to one another.

“Alright.”

“Great!” Jared exclaims, acting like he’s just aced a job interview. “I’ve got a couple of things I need to take care of tonight,” he says as his phone chirps on the counter. Jensen sees several notifications on the screen, but he’s not close enough to read them. “Tomorrow, before my shift, I’ll make a list of what we need to tackle first, alright?” He must see the skepticism Jensen can’t mask quickly enough. “I promise, Jensen, this is going to be okay.”

It’s nice to hear. Believing it is another thing.

“Do you want to take the files with you?”

“That would make it a lot easier.” Jared grins. “I guess that means you trust me.”

Jensen shrugs. He didn’t think of it like that. “You’re doing this for your captain. I’m pretty sure that means you won’t screw me over.” Jared opens his mouth to respond, but he shakes his head instead. “Besides,” Jensen adds, “I know where you work.”

He sees Jared out a few minutes later. There’s a box of files in his arms, and he turns back to Jensen and waves as soon as he sets it on the seat of his Charger. Jensen waits until he drives away, walks back into the house, and wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

“This place is very nice.”

Shoshannah Stern, Jared’s realtor friend, finishes her walk-through of Josh’s condominium. She circles back to Jared and Jensen who have been waiting and chatting about other legal matters in the kitchen.

“Thank you for taking a look.” Jensen follows Jared’s advice and makes sure he’s facing Shoshannah when he talks.

“What about the furniture?” she asks. “Do you want to keep it?” She signs as she talks. Earlier, she joked that doing so would help Jared improve his ASL skills, which from what Jensen’s seen, are fairly advanced.

“My grandfather is deaf,” he told Jensen after he introduced him to Shoshannah when they met outside the building. “He taught me, but there are always new signs and ones I totally forget.”

He also signs Jensen’s responses. “I’ll keep some things. The rest I can donate or sell. The appliances can stay.”

Shoshannah signs, and Jared says, “I’ll look up nearby sales and comps and let you know a good asking price. Move out what you want, and then we can stage it and take photos.”

“Is that okay?” she asks, and Jensen nods. “I’ll email you tomorrow.”

With a final handshake, Shoshannah gathers her things and leaves them in the condo. Jensen has been here several times over the last few weeks, and though it’s gotten slightly less painful, there are moments when he looks at something and comes close to losing his composure. Josh’s last load of laundry, folded on the bed and ready to be put away, causes a hitch in Jensen’s breath. The to-do list on his desk with one item crossed off—Oil change—nearly brings him to tears at the reminder that Josh will never cross off the rest. The clock that is ticking quietly on the wall, which Jensen gave him for Christmas last year, drowns out other sounds, leaving Jensen feeling like he’s drowning.

“So, what do you think?” Jared’s tentative voice breaks through as he awaits Jensen’s verdict on his friend.

“I like her,” Jensen says.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you know someone that nice and professional.”

Jared grins. “Hey, I’m a professional! I’m your lawyer.”

“I’m paying you in beer and shitty company,” Jensen points out.

It’s been almost two weeks since Jared first sat in his kitchen and offered his legal expertise. Since then, he’s been over to the house three times to go over paperwork. With the potential lawsuits out of the way and no longer an issue, they’ve moved on to the life insurance policy and the sale of Josh’s condo. Each time, Jared accepts Jensen’s meager offering of beer and takeout food in exchange for his guidance.

Outside of work, Jensen’s social life has been non-existent since before Josh died. He’s humble enough to admit to himself that the nights he spends with Jared at the house have been the easiest to bear. Jensen forgot how nice it was not to be alone. It hasn’t been entirely smooth-sailing however. Not a night goes by that Jared doesn’t say or do something to remind Jensen of the way things ended between them, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What are you gonna do with all this furniture and stuff?”

“There are certain things I want to keep.” He’s thinking about the clock and a few items from their mom’s place that Josh inherited when she passed away. “I guess I can rent a storage unit for the rest, or I could sell the furniture with the condo,” Jensen muses dejectedly. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Jared trails Jensen into the living room where they stare at the various pieces of furniture. “You could have a sale for the crew at the station,” he suggests. “They’d love to help out, and they could bring their family and friends. If you don’t care about the money, you could put it towards something.”

Jensen hides his surprise. It’s not an idea he would have come up with—he tries not to think about Josh’s former crew that often—but it’s not a bad one.

“I can help you pack up and move whatever you want to keep.”

“You’re already doing so much,” Jensen tells him, not wanting Jared to resent offering his assistance. “I can ask one of my guys to help. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

Jared steps around the couch and places his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen doesn’t have a chance to shift away. It’s the first time Jared has touched him in over three years.

“Jensen, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. But if you don’t want my help, because of what...because of our history, I’d understand.”

It’s one of Jensen’s unspoken rules: they don’t talk about the past. For years, he’s held onto his resentment over the way things ended. On the rare occasions he thought about Jared, he pictured the brash, cocky firefighter—the man who was always chasing the next rush, whether it was a person, a place, or a thing. Jared used Jensen’s infatuation to get what he wanted before tossing him aside without a second thought.

Over the last two weeks, however, Jensen has begun to see that Jared has changed. Physically he’s the same, if not more attractive than when Jensen first met him. His hair is longer and he appears slightly leaner. (He can’t exactly ask Jared to take off his shirt and check.) No doubt he works out at the station between call-outs, and the demands of his job will always keep him in shape, but Jared lacks the sheer bulk he used to have.

It’s his attitude that has really surprised Jensen. The Jared he knew back then had time for dancing, drinking, and sex, usually in that order. They hit it fast and furious. But ever since they met again at the cemetery, Jared has been calm, patient, and more considerate than anyone else in Jensen’s life. Jensen’s animosity and cynicism are locked in a constant battle with the relief he feels having someone who’s unquestionably on his side.

That’s a dangerous road for his thoughts to travel, and the last thing he wants is for Jared to think that Jensen’s going to start hitting on him. It’s better to leave that all in the past, no matter what kind of ideas creep into Jensen’s mind in the middle of another sleepless night.

Jensen shakes his head. “It’s fine, Jared. I’m over it.”

Jared drops his hand. “Oh, okay.”

“Are you working this weekend?” Jensen is desperate to change the subject and dispel the sudden awkwardness.

Jared puts some distance between them, his expression carefully neutral, and says, “I’ve got an overnight shift until Saturday morning. I can help you out after I’ve gone home and gotten some sleep. I’m off Sunday too.”

“I don’t want to wear you out.” Just because Jensen doesn’t have a life at the moment doesn’t mean he wants to consume Jared’s with his neediness.

“Cook me a decent meal on Sunday, and I’m all yours.”

As much as Jensen wanted to put a stop to the flirting, it’s in Jared’s nature. He tamps down on his body’s reaction. “Sunday it is. I promise to actually cook this time.”

Jared’s smile returns. “I get an honest-to-God Ackles meal. Damn, the rest of the crew is gonna be so jealous. Tahmoh’s a great interim captain, but he can’t cook the way your brother could.”

Jensen’s cheeks are warm as the emotions well up at the mention of Josh’s family-style meals: a tradition he’d started in high school to feed Jensen, their mom, and any friends that happened to follow him home from school.

“Well I haven’t cooked anything in weeks so don’t expect anything miraculous, and please don’t let me find out that you invited the whole shift to my house for a meal.”

“I’ll keep it to myself, I promise,” Jared says, pulling out his phone “I’ve got an hour before I need to head to the station. Want to take a look around and give me an idea of some of the things you want to move out?”

They spend the next forty-five minutes wandering through the condo. Jared looks at every photo, asking questions, while Jensen tries to decide what he wants to keep and tells Jared stories about his brother and their childhood. By the time they part ways, Jared bound for the station and Jensen heading off to an appointment, Jensen realizes he made it through an entire afternoon talking about Josh without crying once.

After a full day of appointments and an hour spent looking over the quarterly profit and loss statements Misha sent earlier, Jensen collapses on his couch and groans. He’s missed the feeling of a full day’s work, the bone-deep contentment combined with satisfied exhaustion. The last time he worked a day like this was the one before he got the phone call from Deputy Chief Morgan telling him that Josh had been rushed to the hospital after a structure fire and that he needed to hurry.

Jensen and Josh had been raised to work hard. Following their father’s death, they stepped up to help their mom manage things while she continued to work full time. Josh got a job as soon as he could get a work permit while Jensen kept himself busy at the house. By the time he was thirteen, Jensen could already handle most of the plumbing, landscaping, and heating issues that came up, teaching himself by reading manuals and learning from patient neighbors.

A good day’s work meant a lot to both Ackles boys, and that never changed as they got older. Jensen tells himself that Josh would be proud of him for getting back to work.

As promised, Jared helped him pack up some of Josh’s things on Sunday afternoon. They got sidetracked when Jared wanted to hear a story about the captain, or about some shit Jensen had pulled as a teenager, and Jensen found that he liked sharing things with Jared. Unlike other members of Station 15, Jared hadn’t known Josh for very long and his grief, though very much real, didn’t hit as hard. It wasn’t another burden for Jensen to shoulder. Jensen even found himself smiling as he shared some of his happier memories.

Back at his house, Jensen cooked for Jared once the boxes were safely in his spare room. The Dallas Cowboys were playing the Eagles, and Jensen left Jared on the couch with a beer while he seared a couple of steaks and oven-roasted some of his favorite vegetables. Once Jared had a plate in front of him, he couldn’t stop raving about the food. For the first time in weeks, Jensen felt good about what he’d accomplished.

But every day came with a new challenge.

After exchanging several emails with Shoshannah, they eventually agreed on an asking price for the condo. Jensen e-signed the contract while he blinked away fat tears and wondered if he was moving too fast. After taking that step, it was up to him to sell the remaining furniture and have the place cleaned.

Jared kept working. He provided Jensen with a list of tasks in regards to collecting the life insurance, transferring the title for Josh’s truck, and settling his bank account, which Jensen was trudging his way through. He can’t imagine how in-over-his-head he would be without Jared. Misha had offered to help with any financial snags, but with a new baby, he already had his hands full.

Jensen makes himself a small meal, sits back down on the couch, and tries to enjoy the feeling of having no immediate demands on his attention. He eats and watches a baseball game, yet his mind refuses to settle. He finds himself thinking about Jared, wondering how his shift is going. At one point, he considers texting Jared—he got his number after Jared agreed to help with the legal paperwork—like he would any other friend.

Is that what they are now? Friends?

Jared is generous with his free time, and Tahmoh was right: he’s smart as hell, always ready with a solution to Jensen’s latest problem. Not once has he complained or backed out of helping. If anything, Jared seems willing to take on more if Jensen needs him.

That was hardly the case three years ago when wanting more is what cost them a future.

They met at a music festival. It was fall in Texas, and the weather was still scorching. The attendees found some relief in the form of cool breezes that picked up when the sun went down. Jensen had gone to the festival with friends, two couples who ditched him halfway through the headlining performance, leaving Jensen to watch alone. With a Jack & Coke in his hand, he turned his attention to the crowd around him. That was the moment Jared came into view, gorgeous and carefree, with suntanned skin and sweat soaking through his thin T-shirt as he danced in front of Jensen.

Their eyes met, intentions made clear in an instant. An hour later, Jensen found himself at Jared’s apartment enjoying the ride of his life.

One night turned into weekly You up? texts and drinks out at bars they enjoyed. Jensen couldn’t believe the odds when he discovered that Jared was a DFD firefighter like his brother. By then, he was already addicted to the sex and having a blast, so he let it go.

For weeks, it ran hot and heavy. The sex was mind-blowing in a way Jensen thought was reserved for over-exaggerated scenes in romance novels. Jared fucked as if he had something to prove, and when the tables turned, he begged Jensen to take him hard, to make it rough. It wasn’t what Jensen usually enjoyed, but there was no resisting Jared when he became needy and wanton. He could seduce Jensen with a coy look or a deliberate touch, and he used that to his advantage. When Jensen attempted to slow things down, turn a quick fuck into something more meaningful, Jared flipped the script. He would get down on his knees and blow Jensen until he couldn’t remember his own name, let alone his romantic plans.

Given the amount of time they spent together, Jensen thought it was inevitable that they would make the leap from casual to serious. Jared was exciting and wild; Jensen enjoyed being around him and he had no desire to date anyone else. The few quiet moments they shared gave him hope that a deeper intimacy was possible, so he didn’t push.

Those dreams crashed and burned the moment Jared admitted that what they had was nothing more than an arrangement of convenience. He couldn’t see the same future Jensen envisioned, and worse, he wasn’t interested in trying to make it a reality. It was fun, Jared could admit that much, but it was nothing more than physical attraction.

Adding insult to injury, he asked Jensen if they could keep the sexual arrangement going. They were having fun, Jared claimed, so why ruin the best part? When the next Hey, you awake? text popped up on his phone, Jensen silenced it and went back to sleep. A few days later, he deleted Jared’s number.

He has it now though.

The reckless part of his brain wonders what would happen if he sent Jared one of those texts: one with an unmistakable meaning. He’s tired enough that borrowing trouble seems like it could be a good idea. Jensen hasn’t dated in months, and the thought of hooking up with a random stranger leaves him cold and strangely empty. He wants to be touched again, wants to feel a warm connection, and this is Jared. It would be a hell of a lot better than good.

Fortunately, the larger part of his brain reminds him that yeah, this is Jared, the man who crushed his hopes. The man he’d thought about with resentment and shame in the intervening years.

He doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. The notion that he could have sticks with him until he goes to bed.

“The best thing about selling all this stuff to firefighters is that everyone has their own truck.”

Jared looks over at Jensen and laughs. “I told you this was a good idea.”

The two of them are standing in the condo’s kitchen watching the last few pieces of furniture being carried out. Jensen’s offers to help had been kindly brushed aside by men and women who were used to carrying much heavier loads on an almost daily basis.

Jared was right about the response to the sale. Firefighters, paramedics, and their families showed up, along with a few other members of the community who knew Jensen’s brother. He was apprehensive about being around so many of the same first responders who came to the funeral, but the mood is completely different; Jensen finds it easier to talk to people here while they’re all doing something productive. There’s less grief clouding the air and more acceptance. Fewer condolences and more anecdotes of station life that Jensen finds himself enjoying despite the pangs of sorrow.

Everyone is grateful for the low prices Jensen set on the furniture, electronics, books, and small appliances. A few people insist on giving him a little extra since he mentioned putting the money towards something Josh would have appreciated.

“Thanks again for doing this, Jensen,” Tahmoh said when he showed up earlier. He claimed two bookshelves and a lamp for himself. He decided to stick around when Jensen told him that he could take his pick of whatever was left for the firehouse common areas—free of charge—before he donates the remainder.

He shook Tahmoh’s hand once the deal was struck. “Y’all are doing me a favor. Now I won’t have to hire movers.”

Once the furniture is gone, Jensen can start fixing the handful of maintenance issues himself. He’ll slap on a fresh coat of paint, hire a cleaning service, and finally let Shoshannah take the reins.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jensen says to Jared as they’re watching a paramedic and her husband carry out the last two dining room chairs. “I know you’ve got to work tonight.”

“It’d be shitty to set this up and then bail,” Jared points out. All afternoon, he’s helped Jensen take money, introduced him to a few new faces, and directed traffic as people tried to leave with their purchases.

“Hey Jared!” A blond guy Jared introduced earlier as Chad calls out. “Come give me a hand with this!”

Jared grins. “Duty calls.”

Once he’s gone to help Chad dismantle the entertainment center to fit it through the front door, Tahmoh comes over and pats Jensen on the shoulder. He and Josh had been close since they were first assigned to the same station as probies. Jensen would see him on occasion—holiday parties and fundraisers—but they had never talked much. Now that they’ve spent a little time together, Jensen can see why Josh was so fond of the guy.

“Seriously, Jensen, nice job today.”

“I’m just happy it’s all going to people Josh knew.”

“Have you decided what to do with the money?” Tahmoh asks.

“Not yet.” Jensen had been too focused on the sale itself to think about anything else. “Let me know if there’s anything y’all need at the firehouse, alright?”

“Not that we wouldn’t be grateful,” Tahmoh declares, “but you could always put it towards a permanent memorial in one of the city parks. I’m sure Morgan could help you set something up.”

That wasn’t among the ideas he’d considered. He’s got Josh’s headstone to visit, a clean piece of stone that matches the one marking their parents’ graves, but maybe members of the fire department and the community at large would appreciate something more accessible.

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

Right then, Jensen hears Jared laugh from across the room. It’s a clear, bright sound to which he’s slowly becoming accustomed. He watches Jared tease another firefighter, his body language open and relaxed, and endure a ribbing in return. Jensen is starting to understand why Josh called them his second family. The bonds between the men and women of Station 15 are crucial, and getting to be a part of it, even a small part this afternoon, feels unexpectedly good.

“A little extra help makes all the difference in the world, doesn’t it?”

He could be referring to any one of a dozen things, and Jensen says, “It’s better than trying to tackle everything on my own.”

Tahmoh’s expression is soft, almost fond, when he looks over at Jared. “I wasn’t sure how the two of you were going to get along,” he says, further confusing Jensen. “I know Jared can be a lot to handle in large doses, but I’m glad to see it’s working out between you guys.”

The statement is like a shot of ice water in Jensen’s veins. He’s suddenly cold from head to toe.

“I know how reluctant you were to have someone checking in with you,” Tahmoh continues, oblivious to Jensen’s shock, “but this is why the department does it. It’s too easy to push people away out of pain and anger. This way, you have someone making sure you’re not overwhelmed and we’re honoring our brother by supporting you, because you’re part of the family. It goes both ways.”

The implication hits him with the force of a firetruck. All this time, Jared was doing his job. Jensen was his assignment.

“Excuse me.” He tries to be polite when he slips out of the kitchen and shuts himself in the bathroom.

As his breathing gets faster, Jensen plays Tahmoh’s words over and over again in his mind. That first night, when Jared stopped by unannounced, Jensen thought he was running a simple errand for the interim chief. Bringing Josh’s things was merely his way of getting through the door.

And Jensen, like a sucker, had thrown the door wide open and welcomed him back into his life.

He wants to be angry with Tahmoh, but Jensen is almost positive that he’s unaware of the history he’s meddling with. Jared is at the center of everything, inserting himself into Jensen’s life under false pretenses. It makes sense now, why his offer to help came so quickly—it was just another part of his job.

Jensen was his latest emergency, and Jared would do whatever was needed to see it through.

He stays in the bathroom until he can look at himself in the mirror without scowling. His eyes are red where he’s rubbed them out of frustration and anger. He knows he has to face Jared and the other firefighters. They must all know what Jared’s been doing, why he’s at Jensen’s side today. Do they see him as being so fragile, so consumed by his grief, that he needs Jared’s constant support? Was Jared assuaging his guilt while pitying Jensen at the same time for clinging to what he thought was sincerity and support? He knew Jared was overextending himself on Jensen’s behalf and, once again, Jensen read too much into the situation.

God, he’s pathetic.

Jensen takes a deep breath and steels himself. Now isn’t the time to fall apart. All he has to do is go back out and pretend everything is fine. That the last few weeks of getting to know Jared all over again meant nothing. Pretend he hasn’t thought about what it would be like if he and Jared weren’t burdened by their past and had met instead under happier circumstances. But that’s a fantasy that will never play out, and Jensen needs to figure out how to move forward without Jared.

No matter how much it burns, he can do this.

There’s a very common saying about fools and shame. Jensen spends the next several days living with that shame and wondering how he could have been so blind.

He let himself indulge in the idea that he and Jared could eventually be friends once Jensen’s grief had subsided enough to let other emotions back into his heart. Jared has changed so much, and Jensen foolishly allowed himself to believe that meant something. All it’s done is prove to Jensen that he’s the one stuck in the past, not Jared.

His resolve is tested, however, by the fact that Jared can’t take a hint. He calls, leaves messages, and texts, trying to set up another meeting. He suggests they have dinner to go over the next steps Jensen needs to take. Each time, Jensen turns him down politely, because the last thing he wants is for Jared to think that there’s something wrong. He’s trained to respond to people in trouble, and Jensen refuses to show weakness.

He’s trying to give Jared a way out: an excuse to drop this charade of helping the captain’s poor, pathetic brother. He doesn’t want to have to look at Jared and wonder if his actions are being driven by guilt, which is what Jensen was afraid of when the Deputy Chief made his suggestion, or pity, which might be worse.

To keep himself from stewing in betrayal and disappointment, Jensen spends the next few days throwing himself back into his business. He puts in long days on calls and in his office and manages to get A+ Handyman Services operating at the same level as before he took personal leave and left everything in Misha’s capable hands. Over the weekend, he fixes all the minor issues in Josh’s condo and paints the walls so that Shoshannah can take over on Monday. Every so often, a text from Jared pops up on his phone—plus two missed calls—but Jensen sticks to his resolve. Jared will give up eventually.

As hard as Jensen tries, he can’t stop thinking about Jared. His thoughts circle back to the time they spent together, analyzing those moments for any sign that Jared wasn’t as sincere as he appeared. He must have missed something, yet all he can think about are the moments when Jared offered more time, more help, more compassion than anyone else. Jared went out of his way to make sure Jensen had what he needed, and Jensen took that as evidence of how much he’d changed.

Lying in the dark in the middle of another sleepless night, Jensen wonders what Jared saw when he looked at Jensen. Did he think about the ways Jensen had changed too? Did Jared even care, or were his efforts about duty and nothing else?

When the sun comes up, Jensen considers visiting Josh and their parents, but he decides against it. He’s angry and alone, pissed off at himself, and he doesn’t want to bring that kind of turmoil to the cemetery.

On Tuesday, Jensen realizes that Jared hasn’t reached out in two days. Either his job is keeping him too busy to check in with Jensen, or it means that he’s finally accepted that Jensen doesn’t need him anymore. Maybe he’s relieved that his assignment is over. It’s a painful thought, for reasons Jensen tries to block out, yet it’s a necessary step if Jensen is going to finally be able to rebuild his life without the Dallas Fire Department pulling the strings.

Then, on Wednesday night, a week and a half after the sale at Josh’s condo, Jensen is on his couch, half-paying attention to the movie he’s streaming, when there’s a series of loud, sharp knocks at his front door.

His mind is thrown into a chaotic storm when he opens it and sees Jared standing on the other side with his arms crossed and a steely gaze.

“Good, you’re alive,” he says curtly before Jensen can open his mouth. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Jared—” he begins, but Jared talks right over him.

“I couldn’t come up with another reason why you would suddenly stop answering my texts.”

Jensen shrugs. “I was busy.”

Jared’s laugh comes out as an angry bark. “See, that’s what I thought at first. I told myself that you probably needed some space, or that I was pushing you to get through everything too quickly and you needed to take a break. But if that was the case, you would have told me. Because you’re not a dick. That’s when I realized you were ignoring me.”

“It’s not like that,” Jensen defends, despite Jared hitting the nail on the head.

Jared sighs, uncrossing his arms. “Are you at least gonna invite me in so you can tell me what it was like?”

He steps back and lets Jared in, just like he had that first night when Jared showed up, box in hand. Jared walks straight into the kitchen before spinning and fixing Jensen with an impatient stare.

Knowing it’s up to him to break the silence, Jensen says, “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Jared insists. His posture is less defensive now that he’s inside. “You started acting weird back at the sale. Did something happen?”

“No, everything is fine.”

“Come on, Jensen. You were obviously upset. Even Tahmoh noticed that you barely said a word when he left.”

Jensen had just wanted to be alone; he’d hustled everyone out of the condo to have his breakdown in solitude. “The sale was fine. We got a lot done and I appreciate the help. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to keep coming over here, checking up on me.”

“You make it sound like helping you is a chore.”

“Isn’t it?” Jensen’s tone is biting as frustration bleeds in. “Tahmoh told me that you were assigned to me. I’m just a duty you have to check off your list before you get to go home at the end of the day.”

“Is that what you think?” Jared’s voice is faint, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I told everyone that I didn’t want to be treated like that. I don’t need someone who’s forced to be here, holding my hand!”

Jared throws his hands in the air. “Jesus, Jensen! I haven’t been holding your hand all this time. I was responding to what you needed, not offering empty gestures.”

“Well, thanks, but I’m saying you can stop. I’m sure you have better things to than waste your time making sure I’m not—“

“For fuck’s sake, Jensen, I volunteered!”

The exclamation cuts through the room, followed by a stunned silence. Jared’s eyes are pleading with him to understand, but Jensen is at a loss.

Jared must realize that explanation isn’t going to cut it. “Tahmoh mentioned that you came by the station when you brought all that food,” he says. “I heard him say that Chief Morgan was going to send someone to help you officially. I know you weren’t exactly close with anyone at the station, and if it was me, I wouldn’t want a stranger around. So, I volunteered to deliver that box when Tahmoh was packing up Josh’s office. I didn’t have a plan. Hell, I figured you’d take one look at me and slam the door,” he admits, shaking his head. “When I saw those legal papers, I saw a way I could actually help.”

Jensen is starting to see the bigger picture. “This isn’t pity?”

“God, no. I can’t believe that’s what you were thinking. I’m grateful that I found a way to make things easier for you and that you let me stick around. I was afraid you’d think I was useless and push me away.”

This is some serious emotional whiplash. “I ended up doing that anyway.”

“I’m sorry you misunderstood. I should have come over to talk to you sooner. It just didn’t work out with my shifts.”

“No, I cut you out after what Tahmoh told me.” Jensen sighs. “I was angry at the whole situation. I never wanted someone stuck with me, but honestly I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m glad it was you and not a stranger.”

Jared blushes. That’s definitely a new sight. Jensen knows what Jared looks like when he’s horny, desperate, wild, and more recently, determined and friendly. He’s never seen Jared bashful before.

“Like I said, I’m just happy you let me in that day. You had every right to tell me to get lost, especially after the way things ended between us. But that’s all in the past now, right?”

That catches Jensen off guard. “Right.” It’s a lie; Jensen has been thinking about the past more and more. Now is not the time to go down that road.

His ambush having proved successful, Jared smiles. Jensen takes a closer look at his appearance, admiring Jared’s slightly damp hair hanging loose instead of tied back like it is when he’s on duty. He’s in comfortable clothes and his favorite black jacket. He must have come straight from the station after showering.

“Now that that’s settled, I think you owe me.” Jared’s smile gains an edge that has Jensen shifting in place.

“Owe you what?”

“A night out,” Jared says, “and right now, I’m thinking that I know the perfect place.”

It takes a few days for their schedules to line up, but Jared eventually gets Jensen to join him for that promised night out.

“I’m not a shut-in,” Jensen defended himself when they met for coffee the day after Jared showed up at his house. “I don’t need a movie night or a walk in the park to feel better.”

Jared, doing his best to seem enigmatic, grinned over his cafe mocha. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Those cryptic words are why Jensen finds himself standing outside a place called Fracture on Saturday night.

Jensen looks at the name printed on the door and frowns. “It sounds like a club.”

“Trust me,” Jared says, “it’s definitely not.”

Several other firefighters arrive at the same time. Jensen recognizes Chad, Hodge—who tells Jensen to call him Aldis—and Tahmoh, in addition to a few others he remembers meeting at the condo sale or seeing at the memorial.

“Who’s manning the firehouse?” Jensen teases, when he sees that most of Jared’s shift is here. “The dalmation?”

Jared grins, but it’s Chad who responds first as they head for the door. “I used to beg Cap for a dog for the station,” he says. “All I got was Jared. He does have the best puppy-dog eyes though!”

He darts out of reach just as Jared swipes at him. Privately, Jensen agrees with Chad.

The whole group is dressed casually, including Jensen. He gives Jared a once-over, impressed by his understated look: a merlot-colored henley, black jeans, and boots. His hair is free from its professional tie-back, swinging against the top of his shoulders.

When Jensen knew him before, Jared dressed and acted like an overgrown frat boy. Messy hair, faded tees, tight polos. He didn’t take anything seriously, not even the things he wore. Back then, he never saw the point in acting like an adult. Jensen wonders, not for the first time, what happened to Jared in the last three years.

As the group walks into Fracture, Jensen’s jaw drops. “A rage room?” he exclaims.

“Hell yes!” Jared yells. There’s loud music, bright paint, and tons of noise. Everyone around them is grinning.

“Don’t you get to break enough stuff on the job?” Jensen points out over the chaos he can hear coming from nearly every direction.

“Not like this, and not guilt-free!” Tahmoh, who walked in after them, shouts. He slaps Jared on the back. “Thanks for arranging all this, man.”

After checking in at the front counter where Jared hands over his credit card, the group splits and gets set up in several different rooms where everyone dons protective suits, thick gloves, and face shields. Jared and Jensen end up together in a room with chain-link fencing over concrete walls that’s filled with salvage furniture, barrels, old televisions and computers that have been stripped of hazardous materials, cinder blocks, and other kinds of crap.

“So, we just get to break everything?” Jensen has never been to a place like this, though he has heard about the trend. “No rules?”

“Just have fun!” Jared tells him, grinning behind the shield. “Trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

In that moment, he does trust Jared. When they get the green light, Jensen lets go. He’s got a bat in his hands and tons of things to smash. He’s hesitant at first, but as soon as he takes that first swing and decimates a row of wine bottles, shards of glass flying everywhere, something inside him detonates.

It’s an unbelievable rush. He can hit shit as hard as he needs to while, across the room, Jared laughs and swings his own bat at a lopsided table. Everything Jensen has kept a lid on for weeks comes pouring out—all of his frustration, anger, and helplessness.

Josh dying in a hospital while Jensen fought Dallas traffic to get there.

Swing. Shatter.

Feeling like an outsider at his own brother’s funeral.

Swing. Crunch.

His grief and depression rise up like they’ve been summoned, and each time they threaten to overwhelm him, Jensen takes another swing and lays waste to the darkness.

Pitying stares. Smack. Misunderstandings. Crash. Weakness. Bang. Alone. Slam.

Jared showing up again after all these years.

Jensen raises the bat to obliterate an old dresser and suddenly the anger isn’t there to feed off of any longer. An extraordinary emotion rushes through the hole left by the explosion. It’s a need he’s never felt before and it’s absolutely terrifying.

He drops the bat and sobs as the emotions fight their way out of his chest. Thanks to trained reflexes, Jared rushes over in an instant and grips Jensen as his body is wracked with half-sobs and half-choked laughter. Jensen feels freer than he has in months. His muscles are sore and his joints are aching, yet he doesn’t mind the pain, and he clings to Jared like a rock in the storm.

“Pretty cathartic, huh?” Jared asks when Jensen calms down enough to pull back and look him in the eyes. Jared’s gaze is full of compassion and true understanding, as if he has been the one in Jensen’s place.

This spirit, this kindness, wasn’t present in the man he knew three years ago. Where had he been hiding? Did Jared change, or was all of this simply buried beneath an immature facade?

“Who are you?” he asks without thinking.

Jared’s laugh is bright and loud over the bass beat. “I’m the guy who’s gonna buy you a drink later. After that, I think we could both use one!”

The rage room is one thing; Jensen wasn’t expecting to go anywhere else. Not with his brother’s former crew, at least. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asks Jared when their session is over and they’re removing their protective gear.

Instead of laughing or brushing aside the question, Jared’s gaze turns soft and understanding. “We all want you there, Jensen. I know it’s probably tough because we remind you of Josh.”

“That’s part of it,” Jensen admits. “I know I’m a shitty replacement for him.”

“Don’t say that. They like you. You’d like them, too, if you started hanging out with them more. Whether you decide to come out tonight or not, you should start coming by the station. Talk to everyone. If anyone could understand the love you had for your brother, it’s this crew.”

For the second time tonight, Jensen finds himself placing his trust in Jared.

Once everyone is finished, they agree to meet up at a bar called Stix. There are a few cheers and plenty of smiles when Jared announces that Jensen will be joining them. He follows Jared’s Charger for the ten minute drive, reassuring himself that he’s doing the right thing by going. Jensen recognizes Stix as being one of the 1-5’s usual haunts—a real badge-and-ladder joint. Most of them are welcomed by name when they pony up to the bar, including Jared, who grins at the redhead slinging drinks and proceeds to order a round of domestic beers for the group.

Some of them stay at the bar, others like Tahmoh join friends already there, while Chad and Aldis hit the pool tables. Jared and Jensen claim a tall table for themselves, grinning at the antics of those around them enjoying their Saturday night.

“I had no idea the rage room would be like that,” Jensen comments halfway through his first beer. “I had a lot of pent up frustration.”

“Me too,” Jared agrees, setting down his empty bottle and waving at the bar for another round. Jensen wasn’t totally paying attention to what Jared was doing while he rampaged through the room, and now he’s wondering what he missed. “Are you feeling any better?”

Jensen ponders the question as he finishes his beer. The redhead from the bar—Jared introduces her as Danni—delivers two more bottles with an easy smile.

“I feel more like myself.” He shakes his head. The emotional release had taken its toll, but Jensen is more ground than he felt earlier. The dark fog that he’d been fighting through is getting brighter, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the rage room or present company. “Does that make any sense?”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Jared tells him. “I’ve been there. We all have”—he gestures to the first responders around them—“at some point or another. I’m not saying we hit the rage room all the time.”

Jensen laughs. “No?”

“Nah, that was a first for most of us. But we all cope in different ways.” He starts nodding to members of the 1-5. “Tahmoh trains in an MMA gym and teaches free self-defense classes to kids in the neighborhood. Donovan is prepping for her first full triathlon, and Chad… actually, I don’t know what Chad does, but I’m sure it’s something crazy like making his own soap at home.”

Jensen chuckles at the mental image of Jared’s fellow firefighter mixing soap and essential oils when he’s wound up after a rough shift.

“And what about you?”

Jared takes another sip and looks over. “Hmm?”

“What do you do to cope?”

“I’ve tried a lot of things since I joined the department.” Jared starts picking at the label on the bottle. “Back in those days, I thought I was invincible and I acted accordingly. I went out almost every night, partied because I was young and strong and I wanted to take a bite out of everything.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows. “Ah, so that’s why.”

The label comes off and Jared flicks it onto the table. “Those weren’t my best years.”

“I don’t know.” Jensen wants to wipe that doleful look off his face. He didn’t think his question would draw out such melancholy. “It was pretty fun.”

He’s not expecting Jared’s expression to drop even further. “I was an ass back then. Trust me, I’ve been told many times.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t, but I heard it loud and clear.”

Jensen doesn’t like where the conversation is heading, wishing he could rewind the last few minutes. “Hey, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not,” Jared tells him reassuringly. “If anyone deserves an explanation, it’s you.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that; he’ll listen if Jared’s offering. Jared has earned that and so much more.

“The 1-5 is my third station,” he says. “I was assigned to the 2-7 as a rookie and I thought it was a good fit. I loved the job and I thought I was finally in the right place after law school and quitting the firm. I was happy for the first time in a long time, and I went a little wild. The more I went out, the more I started slipping. Came in later, missed a couple of shifts because I was hungover, got in a few fights with guys on my shift. My captain almost cut me.” Jared sighs as if he’s annoyed by his own recollections. “I managed to get through my probationary period and become a full firefighter, but the damage was done. I put in for a transfer a few months later and I ended up over at Station 11, where I kept my head down and focused on the job.”

“No more wild nights?” Jensen asks, voice teasing so Jared won’t think he’s being scolded.

Jared finally smiles again. “Maybe one or two, here and there.”

Jensen knows the risks of being too curious, but he can’t help himself. “What about relationships?”

There’s no way to decipher the expression on Jared’s face. “Nothing serious. Nothing at all for a while now, actually. I’m sure you know that relationships aren’t exactly easy for firefighters and paramedics. Not a lot of people understand the demands of the job—the situations we get into and the stress we deal with on a daily basis—much less accept them.”

Josh used to say the same thing to Jensen. He dated off and on for years, hoping to find someone special. His relationships lasted a few months, tops, or until his girlfriend decided she couldn’t handle sharing Josh with a second family. Once Josh was promoted to captain, his personal life was pushed to the side. There was never anyone serious after that.

“I’m sure you could get back out there if you wanted,” Jensen encourages, testing the waters. “I bet the uniform helps.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jensen grins and gestures to his own chest. “I’m immune to those pheromones in the fabric, remember?”

Jared throws his head back and laughs. “That’s awesome. Chad’s gonna love that.”

He’s still laughing softly when he signals for another round, which Jensen swears will be his last. They toast with fresh beers, enjoying the sounds of life going on around them. Everyone from the 1-5 is having fun, getting back to the good times after what’s been a rough few weeks.

When Jensen shifts his gaze across the table, he watches Jared converse with people as they walk by. He has a smile for everyone, generous with pats on the back and chest slaps. Most of the firefighters seem physically affectionate towards one another; Josh had been the same way. Jensen imagines that’s another aspect of the bond they all share, living and working in such close quarters.

Eventually, Jared feels him watching and looks up. There’s a light in his eyes that Jensen doesn’t remember seeing before.

“I’m good,” he says out of nowhere. “You know, with what you said earlier about getting back out there.”

“You’re not looking?”

He appears to think about it, then tells Jensen, “I am, but I want more than someone who’s crushing on the uniform.”

There’s so much Jensen could say in response to that. Jared is worth more than the uniform, more than his profession, and Jensen desperately wants to know who made him feel like he wasn’t. But he keeps his mouth shut—uses his beer to make sure he doesn’t slip up and say something careless—because now isn’t the right time.

“Even though I know how good I look in it,” Jared teases, and the moment is gone.

An idea has slowly been taking shape in the back of Jensen’s mind. Jared might have had a point earlier when he told Jensen that he should embrace the love and admiration that the crew had for his brother instead of resenting it. Spending time with Tahmoh, Chad, and the others might prove to be as cathartic as venting his misery and pain in the rage room. If he wants to honor his brother’s life and memory, he needs to start with them.

“Alright,” he says, catching Jared’s attention, “now that you’re officially my personal fire department liaison…”

Jared leans across the table, that multi-hued gaze focused on Jensen. “Yeah?”

“I need your help with something.”

It takes over a week for Jensen’s plan to come together. He uses the money from the sale at the condo to buy what he needs while still having plenty left over. He feels good about what he’s doing. It’s difficult to wait, but he wants to do this right. If Josh were still around, he would definitely approve.

Embracing his role, Jared drops by every couple of days either to help or to grab a beer from Jensen’s fridge and relax on the couch while Jensen makes arrangements and pulls everything together, occasionally offering his two cents when Jensen needs a second opinion.

“You’re sure about the time?” Jensen asks him on Sunday afternoon, double checking that he has everything he needs while Jared looks on from where he’s leaning across the counter.

“Tuesday’s great,” Jared reiterates, “and if you do it while there’s a shift change, almost everyone will be there.”

With Jared stopping by on a regular basis, Jensen gets used to having him around. He takes up space that has felt empty since before Josh passed away. Some nights, he works on the remaining legal issues hanging over Jensen’s head, brow furrowed as he pours over documents and asks questions. The rest of the time, he seems content to just be there, telling stories from old call-outs or listening to Jensen talk about one of his clients.

Jensen had something similar to this easy domesticity once before. A year and a half after things with Jared fell apart, Jensen was back in the dating scene, enduring a series of once-and-dones until he met Christian Keyes. The handsome doctor was driven and funny, and he seemed to want the same things as Jensen. It was a relief to find someone who wasn’t spooked at the idea of commitment. Eight months in, they were spending most of their time at Christian’s place, and things between them seemed comfortable. Jensen thought he had finally found a meaningful relationship.

It took a few more months for Jensen to realize that comfortable wasn’t an ideal state of affairs, and that his happiness with Christian seemed to have peaked. They liked one another, but Jensen pined for more. Desperate for advice, he spent hours talking it over with Josh, wondering if he was insane to even consider breaking up with such a decent guy and losing hope that there was someone out there meant for him. He asked Josh if he should stick it out in case things changed, and his brother didn’t hesitate to point out that it wouldn’t be fair to either him or Christian.

Not long after that epiphany, Jensen packed up whatever had migrated over to Christian’s place and went home, a newly single man.

The idea of dating no longer appealed to Jensen after that. He was tired of putting himself out there and ending up with a bruised heart. Every now and then, he’d reminisce about the gorgeous firefighter with the wild streak and the captivating eyes, wondering where he was now. On those nights, Jensen would give in and let his imagination run rampant, blending memory with fantasies of a future they never got to have.

Never in a million years could Jensen have predicted that he and Jared would be here, hanging out as friends after the way they fell apart. It’s better than comfortable—it’s beginning to feel significant.

If only that voice inside Jensen’s head would stop bringing up the sex they used to have. It’s hard to have Jared leaning over his shoulder when he’s cooking, or sitting beside him on the couch, legs sprawled, when all he can think about is what the man can do with his cock. If Jensen was dealing with the version of Jared he knew three years ago, he’d say the moves were deliberate, and that Jared was teasing him to wear down his defenses.

“Need a hand with that?”

Jared’s voice startles Jensen so much, he nearly drops the pan he’s holding. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. They’re so close, Jensen can smell the eucalyptus from Jared’s shower gel. As Jared’s words sink in, Jensen wishes he could turn around and say, “Yes, please!”

“I’m good, but thanks,” he croaks, blaming it on the fact that his pulse is skipping. “Actually, I think we’re all set for Tuesday. I already told Misha I’m taking the day off.”

Jared claps once. “I can’t wait. This is gonna be awesome, Jensen. Everyone is gonna be so surprised.”

“If I don’t mess everything up.”

“You won’t.” Jared’s faith in him helps, allowing some of Jensen’s apprehension to melt away. “Now, since you worked all afternoon, dinner is my treat.”

“Deal. You okay to order while I take a quick shower?”

He almost misses the way Jared’s chest rises abruptly. Jensen chalks it up to hunger, or Jared repressing his natural instinct to flirt. That only works until he’s in the shower, replaying that sharp inhale over and over again and wondering what it means.

“Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Chad is the first person to walk into the spacious firehouse kitchen after Jared called everyone up. Jensen and Jared are standing beside a table that’s full-to-bursting with food, enough for two crews of hungry first responders.

Tahmoh walks in along with several others, eyes wide as he takes in the feast laid out before him. “No way. Is that—”

“Our mom’s famous fried chicken?” Jensen laughs. “You bet it is. Josh told me how y’all couldn’t get enough.”

Word spreads quickly through the station, and anyone not already in the kitchen hustles up. Soon, the kitchen and tables are packed with members of the 1-5, sitting and standing in groups.

Tahmoh was aware of their plan, though not the specifics of what Jensen was making. Jared had cleared it with his interim captain before agreeing to help, and Tahmoh in turn agreed to coordinate with the captain of the earlier shift to keep people out of the kitchen for a few hours while Jensen got everything ready. It was worth the effort he put in over the last few days of preparations to see the looks on everyone’s faces.

Jensen wonders if this is what Josh felt whenever he cooked a large shift meal, providing for his crew and taking pride in what he made. For a moment, Jensen feels close to his brother again, quickly ducking his head so no one will catch the lone tear that runs down his cheek. He likes to think he can thank Josh for the fact there are no call-outs during dinner. His brother is looking out for the people he cared about.

Jensen figured he cooked enough for an army, so he’s surprised to see how quickly the food is disappearing. There are platters of fried chicken, Josh’s special baked Mac & Cheese with a breadcrumb crust, homemade coleslaw, pecan bars, and a few other sides he knew would be popular. At the table, Chad and Aldis are fighting over a particularly thick drumstick while Genevieve, one of the EMTs, helps herself to a second heaping spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes.

Jared was the only person allowed in the kitchen during prep, donating several hours of his free time to the endeavor, and he took full advantage by sneaking samples. Which is why he’s standing with Jensen now, watching everyone else eat and laugh.

“We’re gonna make this a regular thing, right?” he asks. “None of us can cook the way Cap did.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Jared shifts a little closer, fixing Jensen with that wide, puppy dog stare. The sight leaves Jensen a little hot under the collar. Years ago, Jared broke those out whenever he was trying to convince Jensen to go another round. Not that Jensen needed a hell of a lot of convincing; he just liked to tease.

“Please? You don’t want all these poor, starving firefighters on your conscience, do you?”

“None of you look like you’re starving.”

If anything, it’s the opposite, Jensen thinks as he glances around the room. Strength is part of the job requirements around here, and Jensen feels a nagging urge to lift a weight or attempt a pull-up. His business requires physical labor, too, but he’s got nothing on the men and women of the 1-5. Even Genevieve looks like she’d have no problem hoisting Jensen in a fireman’s carry across the room.

Jared shrugs and pats his stomach, drawing Jensen’s eyes lower. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Don’t let him guilt you,” Tahmoh says as he circles the table to grab more food. As interim captain, people let him through. “You’re welcome here anytime, Jensen, whether or not you bring food. Though, if you do feel like cooking for a rowdy, hungry crew, just know it’ll never go unappreciated here.”

Jensen hopes this won’t be the last time he cooks for them, though maybe not on this scale. He’s glad he saved himself a plate before Jared summoned the masses. As he eats, several people come up and thank him for the meal. A few firefighters from the D-shift, who only knew Josh in passing, also offer their condolences in gentle tones. The gestures don’t rattle him the way they would have a few weeks ago. Instead, it’s almost soothing to hear the brief stories and memories they share.

Every so often, he seeks out Jared wherever he happens to be, whether it’s in the kitchen telling someone about one of the dishes, or moving from table to table where people are spread out to eat. He thinks back to what Jared told him about not fitting in at his last two stations. It seems as if he’s found his place here, and Jensen is glad that he and Josh were on the same crew, if only for a short time. Josh may not have known about their past, but Jensen takes some comfort in the fact that his brother liked Jared enough to welcome him onto his team.

But every time he looks at Jared, he almost wishes he’d kept his eyes down. Since Jared is coming on shift, he’s wearing his uniform, complete with badge, nametag, and radio. It highlights his mile-long legs and shows off his ass, and the matching shirt is tucked in, drawing attention to his narrow waist, and the sleeves are rolled up below his elbows. The poor shirt looks like it’s struggling not to come apart across his biceps and shoulders when he moves.

Jensen knows the feeling. Turns out, he might not be as immune to the DFD uniform as he claimed. On the other hand, when he checks out others around the room, Jensen doesn’t feel that same gut-punch. Tahmoh’s a good looking man; he certainly fills out the uniform. Aldis isn’t bad either, though he’s almost certainly straight given the way he’s looking at Genevieve. There are half a dozen other men who would turn heads on the street. Twice as many when they were in uniform. Just not Jensen’s.

When dinner finally wraps up, Tahmoh insists that the crew will handle the monumental clean up. “We’ve got this,” he swears. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Without another task, Jensen has no excuse to linger around the station. Jared is working for the next 24 hours, so Jensen can’t even suggest a celebratory drink for pulling this off.

Maybe that’s for the best. Time apart might be what his mind needs to disconnect from its one-sided fixation on Jared. They’re friends, that’s all. He knows from hands-on experience that when Jared wants to sleep with someone, he’s not shy about it. Aside from some harmless flirting that may have been more reflexive than deliberate, Jared hasn’t come onto him.

Jensen tells himself he’s not disappointed by that. The friendship they’re building means too much; he doesn’t want to ruin it with this ironic crush of his.

Once Jensen has said his goodbyes and promised multiple times to come back, Jared walks him out of the station, enjoying his exemption from clean up duty.

“I’m helping to cover C-shift this week. My hours are gonna be all over the place.”

Jensen already knows, but he can’t resist teasing Jared. “You’re saying that cooking was too much work and you don’t want to get roped back in anytime soon?”

Jared grins and rubs the back of his neck. They’re standing beside Jensen’s truck in the lot behind the station. Street lights buzz and flicker to life around them as the sky grows dark.

“Don’t get me wrong, I had a lot of fun, but clearly you saw that I’m more of an assistant than a chef.”

“That’s alright, I’ll handle the cooking.”

“Thank God,” he laughs, clearly relieved.

“Seriously, Jared, thanks again for helping me set this up.”

“I told you it would be great.” He taps Jensen’s arm with the back of his hand. “And it felt good, didn’t it?”

Jensen nods. He wasn’t sure how he would react to being at the firehouse all afternoon and most of the evening, but he’s breathing a little easier.

“Listen, I’ll keep working through those estate documents for you. I might not be able to get anything finished until—”

Jensen finds himself reaching out, setting his hand on Jared’s shoulder and squeezing, cutting him off. “It’s okay, Jared. You’re the who’s going above and beyond with all of this. Hell, most days I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“That’s not...you know I like helping.”

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, trust me on that. But I know you’ve got a life, too, and you don’t need to drive yourself crazy working on something that we can get back to later. I’ll be okay without your stellar legal advice for a week, I promise.”

Jared accepts, placing his hand over Jensen’s. It only lasts for a second, but the touch is unexpected, and at the same time so familiar, that the synapses in his brain get crossed for a moment and he leans in slightly. In slow motion, he watches Jared’s eyes flash wide, hazel swallowed up by a simmering heat, as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Jensen’s mind is rushed back to the moment they met at the music festival—Jared had the same look on his face moments before lust consumed them. Jensen unconsciously licks his lips.

Jared drops his hand. “I’ll text you, okay?”

He’s gone before Jensen can finish processing what happened, left standing with his hand in midair and Jared’s name on his lips.

Jensen spends the next few days resolutely not thinking about what happened. The moment his thoughts begin to veer in that direction, there’s an uncomfortable flutter in his chest and he’s forced to distract himself.

Misha books extra service appointments at his request. Between those and a few complimentary inspections for prospective clients, Jensen’s days are booked solid. There’s no time to dwell on that charged scene in the parking lot while he’s installing new bathroom fixtures or putting up crown molding in a client’s dining room.

In spite of his determination not to focus on Jared, there’s a steady stream of texts going back and forth between them. Jensen always responds, sending memes he sees on Facebook or asking how the shift is going, because the last thing he wants is for Jared to think anything is wrong again.

When Jared calls to update him on a couple of estate matters, Jensen notes the exhaustion in his voice.

“It sounds like you just came off a 24-hour shift.”

“I might’ve worked an extra twelve so Jimenez could go visit his mom in the hospital, so...yeah.”

“Jesus, Jared.” Jensen drags his hand down over his face. “Don’t worry about this stuff right now. Go get some sleep.”

Things seem normal between them. There’s a chance that what happened between them the other night was merely a product of proximity and memory blurring the lines.

Fortunately, the week goes by quickly. With Jared at the station and nothing else to stop him, Jensen accepts Misha’s offer to meet for a drink on Saturday night. The bar Misha invites him to is off the beaten path, yet charming and not nearly as crowded as other hotspots would be tonight.

Misha arrives armed with plenty of stories and pictures on his iPhone of his three-month old, which occupy them for well over an hour while they share tapas and drink delicious cocktails with fancy names he’ll never remember. He texts a photo of his gin and cucumber drink—a house specialty—to Jared, swearing he’ll never go back to cheap beer.

“It seems like you’re doing alright,” Misha observes later on in the evening.

“Things are better,” Jensen admits. “There are still moments every day when I see or do something and my first thought is that I should tell Josh about it.”

“You’re always going to have that. My father’s been gone for a decade and I still want to tell him about his grandkids.”

Jensen looks down at the table, idly stirring his drink with a cocktail straw. “It hurts when I remember he’s not here.”

“That part gets easier,” Misha says. “You can always talk to your brother. Who knows, he might even answer, just not in ways you’ll be able to hear.”

A few hours into their night, Misha sighs and says he needs to head home. After thanking Jensen for the grown-up night out, he gets into a Lyft, leaving Jensen with the cocktail he intends to finish before he calls it a night himself. He’s lulled by the rhythm of the bar, the natural rise and fall of conversations around him. There’s an empty seat beside him, and when someone sits down, Jensen doesn’t bother to look over.

“Now that you’re alone, I thought I’d come over and take my shot.”

It takes Jensen a few seconds to realize the low, unfamiliar voice is addressing him. He turns and finds a guy grinning at him. Average-looking, a few years older and a couple inches shorter than Jensen. There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the bar in front of him.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” the guy apologizes with a chuckle. “You can’t be surprised that I noticed you. You’ve been turning heads all night, including mine.”

Jensen is surprised. Knowing he’d only be out with Misha, he didn’t put a lot of thought into his appearance beyond changing out of his A+ Handyman Services polo shirt and work pants. He hasn’t shaved in a few days either, and it shows in the scruff along his jawline.

“I’m just sticking around to finish my drink.”

“I can’t interest you in another?”

“I’m good with what I’ve got.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The man shrugs it off, yet doesn’t move on to someone else. “I’m David, by the way.”

His smile is an attempt at being charming, as if he’s confident Jensen’s going to change his mind. Who does this guy think he is, Cary Grant? Jensen couldn’t be less interested. It’s been a while, and he’s out of practice, but he wants to get the point across.

“Trust me, I’m not what you’re looking for.”

David puts his hand up. “I’m just looking for tonight,” he says. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Jensen frowns. One night with anyone other than the man he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about would be a disappointment. There’s no comparison. The memories he has of being with Jared are vivid and intense—years later, and he can still remember the energy that pulsed between them, how thrilling it was. He wouldn’t mind a dose of that right about now, but definitely not with this guy. Jensen would inevitably regret it in the morning (and probably during too).

“Look...I’m involved with someone.” Jensen figures it’s closer to the truth than any other excuse he could use.

It seems to do the trick. “They’re very lucky.”

Jensen doesn’t know about that. He forces a smile. “Sorry you struck out this time.”

“The night is still young,” David says as he tips back his drink.

Not for Jensen, it isn’t. He’s wiped all of a sudden, so he settles his tab and makes his way to his truck without finishing his drink.

Sleep is hard to come by that night. Jensen’s body is worn out, but his mind continues to spin long after he climbs into bed.

Though he’s not second-guessing his decision to turn down David’s unappealing proposition, the whole idea left him wondering if he should at least try to start meeting guys again. It doesn’t have to be serious, he tells himself, just someone to help him break his fixation on Jared Padalecki.

After all, if their friendship keeps growing the way Jensen hopes, he’ll eventually have to endure hearing about Jared’s dating life. No way a man like Jared will stay single for long, despite his current lifestyle philosophy. Jared might claim he’s waiting for more, yet for all Jensen knows, he’s getting laid on a regular basis.

Jensen might as well get a head start on his own stories, if only to show Jared that he’s fine, he’s getting better, and it doesn’t have to be weird between them.

It’s for the best, but even thinking about it turns Jensen’s stomach and that’s not bringing him any closer to sleep. Pushing it all to the side, he starts methodically going over his brother’s chili recipe in his head, one ingredient at a time, wondering idly if he should cook up a huge batch for the 1-5 someday, until he falls asleep.

A few days later, Jensen finds himself walking into the firehouse in the middle of the afternoon. Tahmoh had called and asked him to drop by the next time he was on shift. The engine truck and ambulance are missing, probably on a call, leaving the station strangely empty.

He bumps into Aldis as he passes into the kitchen.

“Hey Jensen. Here to cook for us again?” he asks, looking hopeful.

Jensen smiles. “Not today, but I’ve been thinking about making a big batch of Josh’s chili when it gets a little colder.”

Aldis claps once and rubs his hands together. “I’ll be looking forward to that. Were you looking for ‘Moh?”

“Yeah, is he out on a call?”

Aldis shakes his head. “He’s up in the captain’s office.”

Jensen thanks him and heads up the stairs. He hasn’t set foot in Josh’s office since before he died, and every step he takes feels heavier than the last. It’s not the same as hanging around the kitchen and the common areas where there are plenty of distractions.

“Thanks for coming, Jensen,” Tahmoh says when he sees Jensen outside the open door. “Want to come in? We can head back down to the kitchen if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Jensen assures him. He looks around the office, but there’s not much of his brother left. The furniture and the shelves are the same, even the chair Tahmoh is sitting in. Everything personal was in the box Jared brought him. “What’s up?”

Tahmoh gestures to the seat across from him where Jensen has sat many times before. “The Deputy Chief has been talking to the city council about a permanent memorial for your brother. It’s just in the preliminary stages right now,” Tahmoh explains, “but Morgan is really pushing it through. I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

Jensen has given it some thought over the last few weeks, ever since Jared brought up the idea at the condo sale. “Yeah, I think that would be nice. Something simple that anyone could visit. Do they need anything from me?”

“I’m sure Morgan wants to run any potential plans by you.”

Once that’s been dealt with, they spend a few minutes talking about the firehouse before Jensen tells Tahmoh that he’s got a service appointment to get to. Tahmoh walks him out of the office, past the bunk rooms for each shift, and back downstairs, stopping Jensen before he can leave.

“Listen, Jensen, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jensen turns around. He can hear more noise coming from the truck bays—the rest of the crew must have just returned. “What’s that?”

“They’re still looking for a new captain.” Given that Tahmoh was still filling Josh’s post in the interim, Jensen figured as much. “I thought you should know that I applied for the job.”

Tahmoh shifts nervously. Jensen walks over and claps him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you did.”

“Really?”

“You were there with Josh from the beginning,” Jensen reminds him, “and I know how much he respected you. He’d want you to throw your hat in the ring.”

Tahmoh looks down, a blush on his cheeks. Figuring he doesn’t need to say anything else, Jensen heads out through the garage where he immediately runs into Jared.

“Hey!” Jared grins when he sees who’s in front of him. “I didn’t know you were coming by today.”

“Tahmoh called me. Did you just get back?” Jensen asks. There are smudges of dirt on Jared’s face and he’s still wearing half of his turnout gear. It’s impossible not to notice the way the wide, red suspenders exaggerate the breadth of Jared’s chest, or how the turnout pants make his legs appear even bigger. He forces himself to look away—he’s trying to stay out of trouble.

“We were called out to a backyard burn that got a little out of control. No big deal.”

“Back on regular shifts?”

Jared nods. “I still haven’t caught up on sleep and I’ve still got five hours before I can head home and crash.”

Jensen is waiting for the conversation to shift back to what happened into the parking lot, for awkwardness to creep into the moment. When nothing happens and Jared keeps smiling at him, Jensen wonders if he imagined the entire scene.

“Call me when you’re rested and we can get a drink,” Jensen suggests, testing the waters. If Jared balks, he’ll know something’s up.

Instead of hesitating, Jared lights up. “Definitely. You can take me to that bar where you and Misha got the fancy drinks.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Jensen’s driving home from his last appointment of the day with the windows down, taking deep breaths of cool, early evening air. There is a line of storms rolling through the area, dropping temperatures to where it’s downright comfortable, and Jensen’s making the most of the weather even as he notes the rumbling skies and distant flashes of lightning.

He’s looking forward to cracking open a beer when he gets home and sitting on his back porch for the rest of the night, taking some time for himself. He’s been covering for one of his guys who’s out sick, keeping him out later than normal and cutting into his free time. He hasn’t seen Jared since they grabbed drinks at that little bar earlier in the week.

Jensen is idling at a red light when he hears an alert from his phone. The harsh double beep is a sound he hasn’t heard in over two months. He almost doesn’t place it at first amongst all the other notifications he receives in a day, but when he remembers what it is, his blood turns to ice in his veins.

The last time he heard it was the night the 1-5 and other stations responded to the fire at the building site. Josh Ackles’ last call.

Honk! Honk!

The light has turned green and the driver behind Jensen is laying on the horn. Realizing that he’s been holding his breath, Jensen accelerates through the intersection and takes a swift right turn into an empty parking lot. The truck is barely in park before he’s reaching for his phone where it’s stuck under his bag in the passenger seat.

[5:48 CST] Major fire reported Bandolier Ave. Multiple crews on scene.

Jensen reads the local fire alert three times, pulling up city streets in his mind. Bandolier is a residential street only a few miles from Station 15.

The words on the screen are blurry and difficult to read, because Jensen’s hands are shaking. Before he can think about what he’s doing, he shifts the truck into drive and pulls out of the parking lot heading in the opposite direction towards Bandolier Avenue. Less than five minutes later, he passes the 1-5 and sees that both bays are empty.

Jensen presses harder on the gas.

He doesn’t make it very far. As he goes to take the final turn onto Bandolier, he’s stopped by a makeshift police barricade where two uniformed officers are turning traffic around. Through his windshield, Jensen can see smoke rising up into the sky and merging with the low, gray clouds. There’s a flash in the distance and, a few seconds later, a resounding clap of thunder.

“Sorry, sir. Road’s closed!” one of the officers calls out as Jensen approaches the barricade. “You’ll have to turn around!”

He can’t tell them why he rushed here, why the billowing plume of smoke fills him with more dread than he’s ever felt before.

Hands trembling on the steering wheel, Jensen turns his truck around and heads for home, barely registering the traffic or the sounds around him.

By the time he makes it back to the house, Jensen’s anxiety has bloomed into panic. He turns on the news as soon as he walks in, but turns it off just as quickly when he sees they’re only covering the storm. His next stop is Twitter where he scrolls through feeds from the local stations, each post more alarming than the one before.

@FirstAlert3Dallas: Multiple DFD crews responding to a house fire on Bandolier Ave after reports of a lightning strike. The house is almost completely engulfed in flames.

@Live5KDLN: Our reporter on the scene of the Bandolier fire tells us that there’s an attempted rescue in progress. Stay tuned for updates as Live 5 receives them.

@FirstAlert3Dallas: Bandolier Ave. blocked to traffic as DFD personnel attempt to contain the massive blaze. Please use alternate routes. Follow us for more updates.

@Live5KDLN: Additional fire crews responding as Bandolier fire spreads to a neighboring home. Other homes on the street have already been evacuated as a precaution.

Below the most recent update is a picture taken by someone close to the scene. Orange flames and dark smoke appear to be pouring out of the roof of a two-story house. Jensen recognizes the familiar shapes of the engine and ladder trucks in front of the house, but the photo is too blurry to make out any further details.

Jensen refreshes the feed, but there are no more reports coming in. The house is oppressively silent around him. The storm has moved on to the east, and Jensen feels the panic tightening his chest each time he takes a breath. The longer he stands here, the more ridiculous he feels.

What the hell was he thinking, driving to the scene like that? What was he going to do if the police hadn’t turned him around? Josh never would have condoned his actions.

“Let the professionals handle it,” Josh would have told him. Jensen can almost hear his voice. “They know what they’re doing.”

This hysteria never affected Jensen before. Josh had been a firefighter for so long and nothing bad had ever happened. Even the alerts were something Josh set up on Jensen’s phone to make sure he was informed; he told everyone to download the app. There weren’t a lot of major fires on this side of the city, and Jensen forgot about the app most of the time.

Things are different now. He’s painfully aware that it’s possible for a firefighter to rush into a building and never walk out. Twenty years of experience, an office full of commendations—none of it mattered the night Josh when back into that unfinished building. Jensen is as helpless now as he was then.

There are two new updates when he checks his feed.

@FirstAlert3Dallas: Several people being treated for smoke inhalation and minor injuries at the scene of the Bandolier house fires. Ambulances on scene.

@Live5KDLN: We are awaiting a statement from Deputy Fire Chief Jeffrey Morgan. Our own Alona Tal will be reporting live on the scene.

In the photo attached to the second post, Jensen spots two ambulances pulled up alongside the fire trucks, flashes of red light caught by the onlooker’s camera. Jensen searches ‘Bandolier fire’ and even more pictures pop up. Most are grainy, distorted by the rain that passed through, and taken well away from the scene, yet Jensen studies each one for familiar faces. The post with the most views is a video shot by a neighbor. It shows fire trucks arriving at the scene, coming to a stop, and the crew jumping out. The video cuts off seconds after that, but it ran long enough for Jensen to make out the reflective lettering on the back of one of the coats.

PADALECKI

Jensen drops his phone on the counter and walks away, pacing back and forth across his living room. It feels like he’s going to burst if he doesn’t do something with this frantic energy. He rushes back to his phone and texts Jared. One message turns into nine as Jensen wavers between trying to come off as calm and pleading to know that everyone is okay.

The danger of the job has always been there, almost as an abstract idea. Josh’s death made it real. He thinks about Tahmoh and how happy he looked when he told Jensen about applying to be captain. Chad’s enthusiasm and Aldis’ warm welcome. Genevieve and Donovan and Jimenez. Jared, who’s somewhere in that fire putting his life on the line for complete strangers. The thought of losing him—losing any of them—sends him reeling.

Jensen desperately needs to calm down, so he does the next best thing and grabs a bottle of bourbon from the shelf in the dining room and pours himself a glass. The Woodford Reserve only comes out for special occasions, or when Jensen needs a quick escape from reality.

Ten minutes later, the bourbon in his glass is gone, yet Jensen is still conjuring every worst-case scenario. He pours a second glass and is about to start drinking when his phone rings.

Seeing Jared’s name on the display is equal parts reassuring and terrifying.

“Jensen?” Hearing Jared’s voice sends relief rushing throughout his body. “Are you there?”

“I’m here.” Jensen’s own voice is deep from the bourbon. “I saw the alert about the fire.”

“God, I know. We were first on the scene. Another crew just took over so we could catch our breath. My phone was in the truck. I’m sorry I couldn’t text you back sooner.”

“You didn’t have to call.”

“I wanted to.” There’s a lot of noise in the background, people shouting and machinery grinding. “Normally, I’d wait ‘til I was back at the station, but we could end up being here for a while. Tahmoh told me I could take a few minutes when I told him I needed to call you.”

Jensen detects a note of understanding in his tone; he is a special circumstance. There was a time not so long ago when he would have resented that distinction. Tonight, he’s grateful to be an exception.

“The news said there was a rescue.”

Jared understands what he’s really asking. “We’re all okay, Jensen.”

“It also said something about injuries.”

“A couple of residents breathed in smoke, and Booker fell and rolled his ankle when he tripped over a tree root while helping someone out. That’s all.”

“Okay, good.” There’s a pause, and Jensen picks up on the sound of Jared’s breathing on the other end of the line, slow and steady.

“Listen...it could be awhile before I’m done here. Can I call you when I’m back at the station?”

“You don’t have to go out of your way.” Jensen tries to come off as even-keeled. “I’m just glad everyone is alright.”

“Thanks Jensen. I’ll check in later, alright?”

When the call ends, Jensen attempts to let go of the panic. He takes deep, measured breaths, shaking less with each repetition. He makes himself something to eat to take his mind off the fire, but that’s a short-term fix. Once the apprehension dies down, it leaves an empty space in Jensen’s chest where another, more dangerous emotion creeps in and takes hold.

The despair sets in when he starts thinking about Josh and what happened that last night. How Jensen didn’t even get the call from Jeff Morgan until his brother was already at the hospital being prepped for surgery. When the fire alert had sounded on his phone earlier that night, Jensen hadn’t even read it.

He wonders if Jared was on that same call. They’ve never talked about it, and Jensen doesn’t remember much from his time in the hospital. Those long hours remain a blur. He can’t recall who was there besides Jeff. He’d been the one to tell Jensen, “Josh went back into the construction site to rescue two firefighters who were pinned down. Part of the structure collapsed, and…”

Beyond that moment, Jensen only retained flashes of the surgeon coming out to talk to him; he had known the news was bad by the expression the doctor wore.

Jensen’s solution for keeping his thoughts from drifting any further down that road is another drink. He loses hours in a waking daze; thinking about nothing is better than revisiting either fire.

When the house is dark, he changes into pajamas and brings another glass of bourbon into his bedroom. He’s had enough alcohol to dull the pain of memory, but there’s another more imminent fear that continues to pierce the fog. No amount of bourbon will help Jensen shake that one, no matter how many times he replays Jared’s voice telling him that everyone was fine.

He must doze off at some point, because he wakes up with a pounding in his head. No, not in his head, at the front door. Jensen stumbles out of his bedroom and makes it all the way to the door just as another round of knocking begins.

“Jared?” Jensen is shocked to see him waiting on the front steps, the porch light casting him in a warm glow. “What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way home and I couldn’t stop thinking about how you sounded on the phone,” Jared says in a rush. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. Shit,” he curses, looking down at his feet, “you were probably asleep.”

The emotional whiplash and the alcohol left Jensen feeling disconnected from what happened earlier. It feels like the fire happened days ago. “Not really,” he says. “You didn’t need to come all this way.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t.”

The stark honesty hits like a bolt of lightning left over from the storm that rolled through. He doesn’t know what else to do other than invite Jared in. Jensen has the strongest urge to hug him, to feel Jared breathing against his chest. They haven’t had that much physical contact in years though; Jensen wonders if it would send him over the edge.

They wind up in their usual spot: Jensen in the kitchen with Jared leaning against the counter. Though he clearly took a shower before coming here, there’s a hint of smoke clinging to the firefighter. He’s in faded jeans, a Dallas Fire + Rescue T-shirt, and his usual jacket. His damp hair is pulled back, sharpening his facial features. Jared hasn’t taken his eyes off him. After everything Jensen’s been through tonight, the scrutiny doesn’t unnerve him.

The silence is weighted. Between that and the leftover humidity, Jensen’s responses are sluggish. He needs to say something.

“Coffee?”

“That’s probably a terrible idea.”

Jensen agrees and grabs two bottles of water instead, needing something to occupy his hands. “Did something happen after I talked to you earlier?” he asks, handing one over to Jared.

“What?” There’s a flash of alarm on his face that’s quickly doused. “No. I mean, not really. It was tough, but nothing we aren’t trained to handle. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Earlier, on the phone, you sounded shaken up.”

“I panicked,” Jensen admits quietly, afraid he’s revealing too much yet too tired to care.

“It couldn’t have been easy to hear about a fire like that. Trust me, I get it.” Jared aims right for the heart of the matter. “It’s only been a couple of months.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you or Tahmoh or Chad running in and getting caught, just like…” He can’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“We felt it too,” Jared tells him. “Even I had a moment of looking into the house and wondering if we would all make it out. But we did our jobs, because that’s what the captain would have told us to do.”

The words are so close to what Jensen imagined Josh would have said that his eyes begin to sting. He rubs them hard to ward off any stray tears, hoping Jared doesn’t notice.

“Hell, maybe Cap was looking out for us, making sure we all got home alright.”

“I like that idea,” Jensen replies, voice thick with emotion.

They share a smile. Seeing Jared in person is more reassuring than hearing his voice. Although the more Jensen looks, the more he notices details like the slump in his posture or the way he’s blinking slowly. Exhaustion is written in every line of his body. Jensen is used to Jared’s vitality, his bottomless well of energy. He’s never seen him this drained, making him feel ten times guiltier about the fact that Jared drove here instead of going straight home after such a challenging shift.

It begs the question why. He’s accustomed to Jared going the extra mile, overextending himself, yet tonight has nothing to do with his brother’s estate or Jared’s good will. Whatever is driving this is personal. Jensen’s pulse jumps out of its resting rate, pushing back some of the lassitude.

“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep on your feet,” Jensen says softly.

Jared looks Jensen over in his old T-shirt and long plaid pajama pants, small steps bringing him around the counter and closer to Jensen. “I could say the same about you.”

“You could have been in bed by now if you hadn’t come over.”

“I already told you, I needed to see you,” Jared admits. Jensen was right about tonight being much more than a courtesy. “Besides, it’s not far out of my way.”

“Next time, I won’t freak out.” Even as he says it, Jensen knows it’s a lie.

“No one expects you to be okay with situations like this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

“I just...I don’t want to lose you too.” Jensen is careful to avoid a confession he can’t take back or explain away. Jared is standing beside him, and Jensen looks up into wide, sympathetic eyes.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Jensen. I promise, okay?”

He doesn’t need to answer. Worn out and tired, Jensen feels too big for his own skin. He wishes he could decipher what’s going on behind Jared’s expression. His lips are parted, shoulders rising as if he wants to say something to Jensen but is unable to find the right words.

Jared claimed that he wanted to check on Jensen for his own peace of mind, yet he’s more rattled now than he was when Jensen opened the door. Still, Jensen takes comfort in the fact that he’s here. His defenses are thin, a side effect of the alcohol and the emotional tidal wave, and he wonders what would happen if he threw caution to the wind.

Jared breaks the silence before Jensen can work out what to say. “I should go, let you get back to bed.”

“You can stay.” Jensen knows how the offer sounds.

Jared takes a step back. “Jensen, I—”

“I have a guest room,” he hastily adds, “in case you don’t want to drive home. I might sleep a little better if I’m not alone.”

In the seconds that follow, Jensen feels like he’s being appraised. He didn’t mean to blurt that out, but if Jared is as concerned as he said, it might work in Jensen’s favor.

“Alright, but only if you don’t mind,” Jared says. “Lead the way.”

It doesn’t take long to set up the guest room. Jensen is grateful to have something else to focus on besides the sight of Jared getting ready for bed in his house for the first time in years. Jared sets his phone on the stand beside the bed, already stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers.

There’s electricity in the air; Jensen feels it in the tips of his fingers. He wants to reach out and touch Jared to see if it would ground him or set off sparks. Jared looks him up and down slowly, eyes raking over every inch as he attempts to translate Jensen’s body language.

Jensen aches to stay with him—the offer is already on the tip of his tongue. They could lose themselves in each other and forget everything else until the sun comes up. What’s left of the bourbon urges him to say it, while his sense of self-preservation pushes him in the opposite direction.

Jared takes the decision out of his hands. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning. Well, later in the morning.”

Jensen swallows and nods, turning to leave.

“Jensen?”

He glances back over his shoulder. There’s a comforting warmth to Jared’s gaze. It’s not the heat of lust Jensen remembers from before, but he recognizes desire. At least, he thinks he does.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me in.”

He’s probably talking about tonight, yet Jensen’s thoughts are thrown all the way back to the night Jared stood outside his door with a box of painful memories, asking to come in. The past no longer matters; Jensen never stood a chance. All he can do is hope for the future.

“Always.”

In hindsight, Jensen should have stayed in bed with his glass of bourbon.

Thanks to his strong Ackles’ constitution, he wakes up with only a minor headache the next morning. He brews a strong pot of coffee and is already pouring himself a second cup when Jared emerges still yawning half an hour later. He’s wearing the same T-shirt and jeans despite Jensen leaving a clean shirt and track pants outside the guest room door. Jensen wordlessly hands him a steaming mug and points him towards the sugar.

The sight of Jared preparing his coffee makes Jensen smile. They rarely shared morning-after moments like this when they were together, and while they might not have slept together last night, Jensen thought they shared something intimate.

Jensen offers to cook up some breakfast when he hears Jared’s stomach growling.

“Did you even eat last night before you came here?” he asks as he’s scanning the refrigerator for ingredients.

“I didn’t really have an appetite,” Jared tells him, which is surprising, since he and the other firefighters usually behave like ravenous beasts around food. “You don’t have to make me anything.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I should head home. I’m sure you have to get to work.”

Jensen shrugs. “I’ve got a little time.”

There’s a sad, half-smile on Jared’s face. “I don’t really feel up to breakfast right now, but I definitely appreciate the coffee.”

“At least let me get you a travel mug to take.”

Jensen doesn’t want him to rush out. Whenever Josh left the station after a rough call, he would invite Jensen over for cheesy sci-fi movies and beer until he could bring himself to talk about whatever happened. There were times when he was never ready, but Jensen was there for him all the same. He wants to know what Jared needs too, although that’s going to require more patience.

He finds an extra mug in a cupboard above the counter and fills it with fresh coffee. “My last job will probably end around 4:30 if you want to come back for dinner. I was thinking pork chops on the grill?”

It’s either an illusion cast by the sun angling through Jensen’s kitchen window, or there’s a flash of interest in Jared’s eyes. Whatever it is, it disappears quickly.

“After the last couple of weeks, I have a lot to catch up on at home.”

“Anything I can help with?” Jared has been so generous with him; Jensen wants to return the favor. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of handy.”

He laughs at his own joke. Jared smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I appreciate that, but I think I can handle it. I’ll call you later, okay?”

He lets Jared go, watching him drive off with a wave. Jensen finishes his second cup of coffee, showers and dresses for work, and pulls up that day’s log from Misha before heading out to his truck.

While he’s sitting in his truck between jobs, Jensen attempts to work out the strange vibe he got when Jared left. He writes it off as residual stress from the fire; they were both out of sorts after wading through so many emotions. They can talk about it the next time Jared drops by the house.

A few days pass, and Jensen assumes Jared is busy playing catch up from the two weeks when he worked almost non-stop. Jared texts him regularly, but when Jensen calls to make plans, hoping to give Jared a break from whatever stress he’s under, Jared sighs and asks for a raincheck.

He starts to worry when a week goes by and Jared is still making excuses. Jensen considers swinging by the station when he knows Jared is working, but quickly dismisses the idea. If something is wrong, the last thing he wants is to cause a scene.

Over the weekend, Jensen is in the process of cleaning his house before he falls too far behind on his routine. As he’s organizing miscellaneous items on top of his dresser, he comes upon a plain envelope. Inside, Jensen finds the red bandana Jared handed him over two months ago at the cemetery. Jensen had washed it and placed it in the envelope for safekeeping until he could return it to the station. Given everything that’s happened since, Jensen simply forgot.

With the bandana in his hands, he thinks about how it felt to see Jared standing on the hill that day. He recalls an ache that was separate from his grief, though he’d been too consumed by his depression to see the pain for what it was: a combination of regret and bitterness. In spite of what he’d told himself throughout the years, Jensen never got over Jared. There was something about his spirit Jensen could never find in another man, no matter how hard he looked.

It’s becoming obvious to Jensen now that Jared ran out on him again the morning after the fire. He should have seen the signs; Jensen pushed him to stay and Jared bucked every suggestion. He had come over that night to make sure Jensen was alright, the way a friend would, and Jensen fell back into old habits. No matter how desperately Jensen wants a second chance, Jared isn’t in the same place.

Crumpling the bandana in his fist, Jensen isn’t sure whether to be sad, angry, or a mixture of both, shaken and spilled all over the place. He has slipped up one too many times, given away his feelings too easily, and now he’s facing the consequences. At least they didn’t sleep together that night. Jensen can’t imagine how far and fast Jared would have run if they had.

Jensen is a handyman—he fixes things for a living—yet as he stares at the rumpled bandana in his hand, he questions his ability to repair what he’s damaged. Considering the way Jared has been avoiding him, Jensen wonders if there’s anything left to fix.

Jensen isn’t looking forward to spending another night at home alone, so he heads to a bar he and Josh used to frequent when one of them wasn’t in the mood to cook. It’s close to Jensen’s house, unpretentious, and plays music that doesn’t assault his eardrums.

He orders a burger and a beer and sits in relative peace, staring absentmindedly at the basketball game on one of the bar televisions and occasionally glancing at the other patrons. No one bothers him, hits on him, or reminds him of all the crap going on in his life, until the door opens halfway through his meal and the last person Jensen expects to see is walking towards him.

So much for peace and quiet. “How’d you find me?”

“I didn’t,” Tahmoh says as he pulls out the barstool beside Jensen. “Josh brought me here a few times and I was craving a bacon cheeseburger.”

Jensen glares at him as the bartender comes over to take Tahmoh’s order. He’s unaffected by the withering stare, grinning when he finally has a beer in his hand.

“It’s good that I ran into you actually. I was gonna call to ask you why one of my best guys has been moping around the firehouse this week.” Tahmoh fixes Jensen with a curious look. “Now I’m thinking that maybe his bad mood is connected to that scowl on your face.”

Jensen tilts his face away. He never used to be this easy to read. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Tahmoh cuts back. When Jensen doesn’t respond, he sighs. “Look, if something happened between you and Jared, and I need to step in—”

“What?” Jensen leans back so fast, he nearly topples his barstool. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

Tahmoh appears skeptical. “Really? Because I’ve seen it happen before in situations like this. A guy at our old station ended up falling in love with the widow he was supposed to be helping. It didn’t sit right with the rest of us at first—that’s not why the department has this tradition. I guess it ended up working out, but that...that’s not what’s going on here, is it?” he asks, finally noticing the horrified expression Jensen is wearing. “Sorry, I was just worried when Jared wouldn’t talk to me about why he’s been so upset.”

“I know the feeling,” Jensen mutters, fiddling with the knife sitting beside his plate.

“I thought you guys were doing alright.”

“We were,” Jensen admits. He’s willing to trust Tahmoh with the history between him and Jared, but he has no idea how to condense the story into a few sentences. “Jared and I...we actually met a few years ago. I wouldn’t exactly call it dating, but we were definitely seeing each other for a while.”

Tahmoh sits there speechless for a moment. He doesn’t even react when the bartender brings over his bacon cheeseburger. Jensen has to wave the poor guy away.

“Shit,” Tahmoh curses once he’s over the shock. “You should have told me!”

Jensen sets his hand on Tahmoh’s arm. “Relax, Tahmoh. We both got over it, and we’re good now. I mean, we were good until I pushed for more and fucked everything up.”

It takes a few seconds for Tahmoh to understand what he’s not saying. “Oh,” he whispers.

Jensen’s laugh is bitter and short. “Sorry it’s affecting the firehouse though. I’ve tried calling Jared to explain, but he doesn’t seem interested in talking to me right now.” He holds his hand up when it looks like Tahmoh is about to say something else. “Don’t let that burger get cold, man.”

Tahmoh frowns, but he picks up his burger and takes a large bite. Jensen watches him chew thoughtfully before turning back to the remains of his own dinner. His appetite has disappeared, and he pushes the plate away in favor of his beer.

Halfway through his meal, Tahmoh turns back to Jensen. “Jared’s a good guy to have on the crew. He’s funny, outgoing, and he works his ass off…”

“You don’t need to sing his praises. I get it.”

“He keeps his emotions to himself though,” Tahmoh continues, undeterred by Jensen’s sour attitude. “That can be pretty tough to do when you’re around the same people all the time. I don’t think he’s used to talking about his feelings.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You also know that he volunteered to help you out, right?”

Jensen doesn’t want to revisit the way he’d misjudged Jared’s intentions. “It came up.”

Tahmoh’s smile is too smug for Jensen’s liking. “He seemed really happy after that.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not saying anything that a grown man shouldn’t be able to figure out on his own.” Tahmoh waves the bartender over and asks for a to-go box and his check. Jensen watches him pack up the rest of his food and slip a few bills into the folio to settle his tab. “You’re not the only one who’s miserable right now,” he adds in a soft voice. “Think about that, alright?”

Jensen nods curtly. His mind is already working overtime. Tahmoh pats him on the back as he stands up.

“I’ll see you soon, Jensen.”

With that, Tahmoh leaves him to work out the question of why Jared would be so upset. He’s the one avoiding Jensen. It plagues him all the way home and throughout the rest of the night. Each time he comes up with a possible answer, he dismisses it for one reason or another.

By the time he falls into a restless sleep, he’s more confused than ever. And unless Jared is willing to talk to him, Jensen might never know the real reason.

Jensen stops at the grocery store between jobs on Wednesday afternoon, figuring he’s got plenty of time to shop and run the food back home before his next appointment, sparing him from the ordeal of rush hour traffic.

His cart is half full and he’s turning down the next aisle when he stops short at the sight of two men wearing familiar uniforms. Fate is certainly testing Jensen’s sanity these days.

“Jensen, hey!” Chad comes over and bumps Jensen’s shoulder. “Shopping for the next big meal you’re gonna cook for us?”

Chad is oblivious, fluttering his lashes and grinning, while Jared shifts his stance beside him and eyes Jensen with trepidation. Neither of them predicted this ambush.

Jensen recovers first and says, “I haven’t worked out a good time to come back yet.”

“Better make it soon. I mean, look at me! I’m wasting away.”

“That’s because you won’t make your own meals,” Jared points out calmly. Hearing his voice is like a warm breeze after winter. Even after days spent second-guessing the way he feels, determined to protect himself from getting hurt again, Jensen slides back into a state of longing. No amount of time can diminish the effect Jared has on him.

He and Chad are in dark pants and matching shirts, with their radios strapped across their chests. They’re each pushing a full cart of groceries.

“We volunteered to make this week’s shopping run,” Jared explains when he catches Jensen checking out the carts. “If we let Chad go unsupervised, we’d end up with cupboards full of tortilla chips and energy drinks.”

Jensen chuckles at Chad’s offended scoff and the matter-of-fact way he says. “Salt, carbs, and caffeine. What else do you need?”

They move aside to let other shoppers pass. When Jensen glances up, he finds Jared is watching him with a steady gaze. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who’s been ‘moping’ for over a week. The eye contact between them is ardent and consuming; neither one of them breaks away until Chad spots something on a shelf.

“Jared! We need Pop Tarts!” he shouts, darting halfway down the aisle.

They watch him go, amusement on their faces as Chad decides which artificial flavor he wants most.

Jared is the first to turn back. “Look, Jensen, about the other night—”

“Don’t.” Jensen heads him off at the pass. He can’t endure being brushed off in public. He hasn’t been able to figure out why Jared is upset, so he offers a blanket apology. “I get it, okay? I messed up last time you came over, and I want you to know that it won’t happen again.” Words kept stored for days come pouring out. “If you need some time, I’d understand, but I...I miss hanging out with you.”

They’re in their own little world for a moment after Jensen speaks his peace. Jared is staring at him as if he hasn’t gotten over the shock of running into him here. Jensen hopes Jared is willing to give him another shot if they can put the night of the fire behind them.

Jared stands in the middle of the aisle with his lips parted, caught around something he can’t quite manage to say. Jensen is hopeful, given the way his hazel eyes soften and his shoulders relax.

“I think—”

“Bring the cart down here, man!” Chad bursts their bubble, and the noise of the store rushes back. Whatever Jared was going to say is lost for the time being.

“Go help Chad before he drops six boxes of Pop Tarts,” Jensen says when Jared appears indecisive. He hopes his smile is encouraging. “I’ve got to run.”

The rest of his grocery list forgotten, Jensen checks out and carries his bags outside. In the parking lot, he walks past the gleaming #15 Engine truck that’s parked off to the side, standing sentinel and serving as a reminder of what Jensen stands to lose.

Unless Jensen underestimated Tahmoh’s love of bacon cheeseburgers, he figures it’s safe to go back to the bar. The items Jensen needed to make himself a decent dinner turned out to be on the abandoned half of his grocery list, meaning he could either sit home alone with disappointing take out, or venture out and hope that Tahmoh doesn’t get another craving.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Someone pulls out the stool beside him, legs scraping on the floor, and signals the bartender for a beer. Jensen glances over and groans. Talk about an ambush.

“Did you put a tracker in my shoe or something?”

Jared accepts the beer the bartender brings and tips the bottle up to his lips. “I stopped by the house and when you weren’t there, I asked Tahmoh if he had any idea where you might have gone. This was the first place I checked, so I got lucky.”

Instead of his usual jacket, Jared is wearing a gray sweater that hugs his muscular frame. His jeans are faded and Jensen can see the tips of old boots beneath the frayed hem.

“You tracked me down, so this must be important.” Hope presses against the inside of Jensen’s chest, though it’s caged in by reality. Jared could be here to cut ties for good now that he’s taken time to realize the mess he’d be stepping into. He didn’t want Jensen before, and for all the changes he’s gone through over the last few years, that might not be one of them.

“You ran out on me at the store, so I didn’t really have a choice,” Jared points out. “Chad was bummed. He was gonna try to convince you to come back to the station and cook him something.”

He appreciates Jared’s attempt to lighten the mood. Jensen misses visiting the station and seeing the crew.

“Are you doing okay? The night of the fire was kinda rough….”

“If you wanted to know, you would have answered my calls.”

“Right…” Jared trails off, lowering his gaze. Jensen regrets snapping like that, but he doesn’t want to rehash it all right here. He’s either had too many or too few beers for that. “You said some things at the store that got me thinking.”

The bartender chooses that moment to walk over and ask Jared if he wants anything to eat. Jared glances idly at the menu before ordering a steak salad.

“You didn’t mess anything up, Jensen,” Jared tells him once the bartender walks away. “Hell, it felt like I was the one who needed to apologize.”

Jensen is thrown for a loop. Given everything he’d done and said that night, he wouldn’t have blamed Jared if he only came here to tell Jensen he needed time to work through it before they could be friends again.

“I was more of a wreck that night than I realized,” he divulges, spinning the bottle between his palms. “That fire was a hell of an ordeal, and I didn’t handle it very well. I’m sorry I brought all that to your doorstep.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Jared appears to consider it before shaking his head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to lay any of that on you. I’ll work through it.”

He wants to say that Jared can tell him anything; he shouldn’t have to work through his burdens alone. But Tahmoh was right about one thing the other night: Jared has never been forthcoming with his emotions.

The bar door swings open, drawing both of their gazes. A group of three women walk in and head straight for a booth in the corner. There’s a brief flurry of noise before it dies down to the weeknight calm Jensen’s used to. His eyes are drawn back to Jared, the way he’s almost hunched over the bar.

“Can I ask you something?” He waits for Jared to nod. “Were you there the night Josh…” It’s still difficult to say out loud, even after all this time. “The night Josh died?”

“I wasn’t at the fire,” Jared replies in a hushed tone. “I was still relatively new and I was the first one asked to cover the swing shift that week. I made it to the hospital later.”

The answer makes Jensen feel slightly better. He hopes this means he’ll stop picturing Jared running into that unfinished building alongside his brother. In his nightmares, neither one of them comes out. The other possibility—that Jared had been one of the firefighters Josh rescued in his final moments—would have been devastating.

A waitress in heavy black boots and eyeliner drops off Jared’s salad and utensils. When the bartender checks in, Jensen orders another round for both of them. Jared eats loaded forkfuls of greens and medium-rare sliced steak while Jensen spends a few minutes watching the game.

When Jared has inhaled half of his salad, he sets his fork down. “Shit, I was hungry.”

“Glad to see you’ve got your appetite back.”

Jared grins and takes a swig of his fresh beer. Slowly but surely, Jensen is starting to feel better. Maybe all they needed was time to shake out whatever weird, charged energy had built up between them and find their balance again.

“You know, I almost didn’t approach you the day of the funeral.”

The non-sequitur catches Jensen off guard. Fair is fair, he supposes. “Why not?”

“I figured seeing me might make things worse, considering how things blew up between us.”

Jensen frowns. He always thought Jared saw their break up as an inevitable yet necessary conclusion; Jensen was the one left behind with a broken heart.

“When I found out you and the captain were related, I figured we’d meet again eventually. For a while, I even thought you knew that I had transferred in and you were avoiding me on purpose. I hate that it happened like this.” Jared sounds tormented, as if he’s struggled with this for months. “I never wanted you to think that I was using Josh’s death to try and force myself back into your life.”

Jared pauses and takes a deep, steadying breath. Jensen, too, needs a moment to process. He is stunned—Jared has never revealed this much to him at once.

“I could barely breathe when I saw you at the cemetery,” Jared admits. “I thought it might be better if I turned around and left before you ever saw me. Maybe we could have met again under different circumstances. But when I saw you crying—”

“I’m glad you were there,” Jensen cuts in. If nothing else, that meeting led to the brightest moments he’s had in months. “Maybe I wasn’t thinking that at the time, but we’re good now, right?”

Jared lets out a long breath. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Jensen is breathing a little easier as well. Next to him, and in between bites, Jared comments on the basketball game. Just like that, things seem normal again. If he catches Jared studying him out of the corner of his eye, it’s only because he’s relieved they’ve put the weirdness behind them too.

Saturday night, Jensen finds himself hanging out at Stix with Jared, Tahmoh, Chad, and a few other members of the 1-5. Jensen is drinking for free, thanks to the fact that he delivered a massive pot of chili to the firehouse that afternoon. It was his way of making up for his absence.

Returning to the station had done wonders for Jensen’s mood. Tahmoh had smiled knowingly when he walked in with the oversized pot, keeping his mouth shut as the crew filed into the kitchen to see where that delicious smell was coming from. Jared was the last to walk in, but the joy on his face was hard to miss. When Chad cornered Jensen to insist that he come out after their shift, he didn’t want to refuse.

Knowing how much Misha craved time around grown-ups (relatively speaking), Jensen decided to invite him along. He and Chad are currently at the next table having a serious, in-depth discussion about making soap at home.

“Introducing those two might have been a mistake,” Jared remarks as he delivers a plate of wings to their table.

“We might all be getting weird smelling soap for Christmas!”

Jared and Tahmoh laugh, causing the two new friends to pause their discussion of essential oils and scowl at the group. Jensen is glad he didn’t lose this. This crew of first responders, with Jared at the center, is becoming important to him. They’re a link to his brother, bonds that were literally forged in fire, and he enjoys the stories they tell about their former captain. Instead of dwelling on the ache that comes with reminiscing, Jensen focuses on the pieces of his brother he didn’t know as well.

“Hey, I meant to tell you earlier...” Tahmoh nudges Jensen’s elbow to get his attention. “The Chief called and said the proposal for Josh’s memorial was fast tracked. They’ve already been approved by the city council.”

“That’s amazing. I figured it would take a lot longer.”

“Morgan has some pull, and I don’t think this is the kind of thing anyone wants to leave hanging.” Tahmoh studies Jensen for a few seconds before adding, “We’re planning to have something made for the firehouse too. A plaque or a framed photobox as our own memorial. That way, Cap can be there every time we roll out on a call.”

The beer might be to blame for Jensen being more emotional tonight; his eyes sting when Tahmoh shares the plan.

“I—that’s…” Jared’s hand settles on his shoulder, anchoring Jensen in the moment so the emotions don’t sweep him away. “I think that’s an amazing idea. Let me know if you need any of Josh’s things for the display. He’d want me to give you whatever you need.”

Jared doesn’t move his hand right away. Either he senses the turmoil Jensen is feeling, or he notices the way Jensen leans into the contact. He leaves it there even after Tahmoh moves on to telling Jensen about their latest unbelievable rescue of a man who tried to jump off a low bridge to avoid a run-in with his ex-wife.

Eventually, Jared is roped into a game of darts with Genevieve, the bartender Danni, and Jimenez, while Jensen circles one of the pool tables opposite Misha.

“That’s the guy, huh?”

Jensen glances up from envisioning his next shot. “What guy?”

“The guy you’re into—the really tall firefighter.”

“I’m not...we’re...it’s not like that.”

Misha chuckles as Jensen misses the pocket. “Seriously? I’ve known you long enough to recognize your flirty face.”

“My flirty face,” Jensen scoffs. “We’re friends, that’s all. Jared’s been helping me out with some things.”

“I’ll bet,” Misha mutters as he leans over and takes his shot, pocketing another solid ball.

“Don’t start, man.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. You left that doctor ages ago. It’s about time you found someone else.” Jensen can feel Misha watching him line up a shot. “Besides, I can already tell that you and Jared are much better suited for each other.”

Jensen flinches and scratches the shot. Misha has only known Jared for a couple of hours—Jensen didn’t hire him until a few months after their fling ended. Not that they were together long enough for Jensen to introduce Jared to anyone back then.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like that.” Jensen looks across the room to where Jared is throwing darts with the others, carefree and laughing. He’s been trying to keep his desire in check, making an effort not to fall even harder, but that’s a bigger challenge than anticipated. Jared is especially breathtaking tonight and there’s a light in his eyes that Jensen has missed. Physically speaking, he’s always been weak for Jared; the effect is greater now that he knows more about the man beneath the blatant sex appeal.

“Fine,” Misha says, unconvinced, and bringing his attention back to the game. “You might think it’s not like that for you, but it definitely is for him.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I spend most of my time talking with a four-month old who can’t talk back, so I’m certainly going a little crazy. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong about this, Jensen.”

He’s about to argue when Jared appears on the other side of the table groaning about losing his game and sticking close to Jensen as he ends up on the loser’s podium as well. With his victory, Misha tells him that he needs to head home, leaving Jensen with a long, knowing look.

Jensen finds it impossible to block out Misha’s words throughout the rest of the night. It’s crazy, yet he can’t stop following Jared with his gaze, waiting and wondering. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in his behavior. Now that they’ve cleared the air, Jared is back to normal. Misha doesn’t know Jared well enough to understand that he’s affectionate and teasing with nearly everyone on his crew. What he has with Jensen isn’t particularly special—that’s just who he is.

It wouldn’t matter anyway. After what happened the night of the fire, Jensen is determined not to cross the line again. Romance is messy, and a one-night-stand is absolutely out of the question.

Every time Jared parks his fit body too close, or reaches out to touch Jensen’s elbow or shoulder, Jensen repeats it like a mantra. This is who he is. No matter how long it takes, he’ll keep repeating the words until they stick.

The abrupt buzzing of his cell phone wakes Jensen as he’s dozing in front of the television on Thursday night. Yawning, he stretches forward to grab it as it’s vibrating on his coffee table, grinning when he sees Jared’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” he answers with a drowsy drawl.

“Hey, Jensen.” Jared sounds distant, unsure. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nope, another thrilling night at home for me. Are you just getting off shift?” Things between the two of them have settled into a nice routine the last week and a half: regular chats and Jared taking advantage of Jensen’s culinary experiments as he plans what to cook next for the firehouse.

There’s a heavy pause before Jared answers. The longer it stretches, the faster Jensen’s heart beats.

“Jared? Are you okay?”

He hears a bitter sound—not quite a laugh or a scoff—on the other end of the line. “What would you do if I said no?”

Pulse thumping, Jensen sits up fully awake. “Tell me what’s going on, Jared.”

There’s a heavy sigh that makes Jensen’s chest ache. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

Jensen has never heard a more obvious lie. “You can’t call me like this and then say it’s nothing. You’re scaring the wits outta me, man.”

“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to panic you. It’s just…” Jared hesitates. Jensen can almost detect the internal debate over how much Jared wants to reveal. “Look, I have no right to ask you this, but can I come over?”

The yes is on the tip of his tongue. Jensen wants to see him, hear him breathing in person. This isn’t about him though. “Are you on your way home?”

“I just got home, but I don’t mind heading back out.”

“No, stay put. I’ll come over there.”

“Are you sure?” Jared asks cautiously.

“Don’t ask ridiculous questions,” Jensen reprimands gently. “Give me your address and I’ll be right over.”

Twenty minutes later, Jensen pulls up in front of a small, ranch-style home in a quiet neighborhood. It’s not at all what Jensen expected. When they were hooking up, Jared lived in a larger house with four other firefighters who were all on various shifts. It was haphazard, messy, and basic—a bachelor pad with too many bachelors who acted like they still lived in dorms.

Jensen wonders if he got the address right when Jared opens the front door. He’s barefoot in jeans, a T-shirt, and an open gray button-down, and he welcomes Jensen in with a tired wave.

Once inside, Jensen turns to him. “Before you say anything else, you had every right to call me.” Jared’s jaw snaps shut. “We’re friends and you’d do the same for me.”

“Fair enough.” Jared’s voice is low and scratchy.

Jensen follows him further into the house and finds himself standing in a large, open room. There’s a living area towards the front with an overstuffed couch and matching chairs, while the back is dominated by a large kitchen. Dividing the space is a long table filled with papers and Jared’s laptop.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Just water,” Jensen says, watching Jared move around. He recognizes that telltale combination of restlessness and weariness. “Was it a bad call?”

Jared slumps over the counter as if he can’t bear to maintain the illusion any longer. He carries two glasses of water to the long couch against the wall, inviting Jensen to sit first and then arranging himself at the opposite end. It’s wide and comfortable, plenty of space for two men, yet Jensen wishes he had an excuse to bring Jared closer.

Jared sighs. “It was a traffic accident. We respond to dozens every week, and I thought I’d seen everything at this point.”

“Josh used to tell me that doing heroic things all the time meant that you also had to see new and terrible things.”

“I wish he’d been there today.”

Grief swells, yet doesn’t spill over. Jensen can’t help if he’s breaking apart too. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Guess that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Talk it out?

“If you’re not ready, we can watch a show or something. Josh and I used to find the worst movies and watch for hours when he had a bad shift. I know there’s no right way to deal with things like this, but if you want to tell me what happened, I’m here to listen.”

Jared’s mouth curves up slightly when Jensen offers him an out. The next moment, his expression hardens to steel. “Usually, I can shake this stuff off before I get home.” The bitterness returns to his voice. “You’ve gotta be able to distance yourself or you’ll go crazy.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Jensen reiterates in a near-whisper. He won’t force Jared to open up. “Whatever you need, Jared. Okay?”

Jared nods and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly how it happened, but a car rolled over on an exit ramp and caused a lot of chaos. Six more cars were involved, and one was carrying a family of four.” He’s staring at his hands, which are twisted together in front of him. Jensen doesn’t like where this is going; he wants to stop Jared from saying any more, but he promised to listen. “We were the first ones on the scene. The driver’s side was totally crushed. We got the mom out okay, but the dad refused to let us look at him until we took care of his kids. By the time we got them out and went back for him”—another long, steadying breath—“he barely had a pulse, he’d lost too much blood. They got him in another ambulance, but Tahmoh called the hospital for the report. The dad didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jensen doesn’t know what else to say at first. While he’s waiting on the words, he reaches out and places his hands over Jared’s. “You didn’t make the choice not to help him. He wanted to make sure his kids were safe.”

“He knew he was going to die. His family was all he cared about.”

“You probably saved the lives of one if not both of his kids. Any parent would make that choice.”

Jensen isn’t expecting to strike a nerve.

“Would they?” Jared’s laugh lacks all humor. “My dad hasn’t spoken to me in five years. Once it was clear that I wasn’t going back to practicing law, he didn’t want to bother with me anymore.”

Jensen realizes this isn’t about the car accident or the loss of someone Jared was trying to save. While both are terrible, neither is what’s ripping Jared apart from the inside.

“This guy was lying in a wrecked car, bleeding out, thinking about nothing but his family, and they’ll never see him again,” Jared goes on. His hands have gone still beneath Jensen’s. “How is that fair?”

“It’s not. I’m sure you know that. And it’s not right that your dad won’t talk to you because of your job. He should be proud of you, and that’s his loss. Having his approval wouldn’t make you a better firefighter, would it?”

Jared shakes his head. “I just wish he knew that I didn’t choose this path to spite him.”

“You did it because you were miserable,” Jensen recalls. “My opinion might not count for much, but I think you made the right choice. I’m sure there are people who are still here today because you were there to help when they needed it most. I don’t think Jared Padalecki, the lawyer, would have been able to say that.”

Jared’s smile is small and trembling, yet genuine. He flips one of his hands and squeezes Jensen’s before letting it go.

“Besides, who says you can’t be both?” Jensen points out in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re my lawyer, remember?”

“You’re not paying me, remember?” Jared shoots back.

“It’s pro bono work. That still counts.”

“Fair enough.”

Now that there’s less of a slump to Jared’s posture, Jensen can begin to relax. His heart, which had been pounding since Jared’s phone call, settles into a slower rhythm. Although it’s getting late, Jensen doesn’t plan on going anywhere until he knows Jared is going to be okay.

“So, Chad has his soap making and Tahmoh has his self-defense classes,” Jensen says when curiosity gets the better of him, “and I know you used to party, but you never told me how you handle rough shifts these days.”

Jared side-eyes him. “I didn’t?”

“Nope, which means it must be something embarrassing,” Jensen teases. “Parkour? Giant puzzles? Do you go to karaoke bars and sing badly on purpose to punish yourself?”

“Actually, I took a job as an exotic dancer over at 'The Wild Stallion.' The pay sucks, but damn, the benefits are great.”

Unfortunately, Jensen chose that moment to take a sip of his water and he promptly chokes on it. Jared looks worried for a second until Jensen gets his breathing under control.

“You’re fucking with me,” he mutters roughly, meeting Jared’s barely contained amusement.

“Of course I’m fucking with you.”

Jensen’s only response is a glare. His cheeks are burning, and he knows full well that the mental image of Jared dancing on stage—in a skimpy fireman’s outfit, obviously—is one he’s going to revisit in his dreams.

“Guess I never really landed on anything,” Jared admits. “If you hadn’t come to my rescue tonight, I probably would have zoned out playing Call of Duty or lost myself in those.” He waves at the papers sitting on his table. Jensen can’t read anything from the couch, but he thinks he recognizes a few of those folders as ones he gave Jared.

“Oh no, we can’t have that.” He stands up and holds out his hand.

“What are you doing?” Jared’s expression turns wary.

“This is me coming to your rescue.”

Jensen takes his hand and leads him towards the kitchen, leaving him at the counter while he snoops through the refrigerator and the cupboards, humming and muttering to himself. Once he’s seen it all, he starts pulling things onto the counter while Jared looks on with a furrowed brow.

“You’re gonna cook.”

“We are gonna cook,” Jensen corrects. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two to keep Chad and the others from starving.”

Jared looks skeptical, yet he follows the instructions Jensen gives him for cleaning and chopping, slicing and stirring. Once the breakfast casserole is in the oven, they turn on the television and settle on House Hunters so they can curse at the picky buyers and their ridiculous requirements. Each time Jensen glances over at Jared, the worry lines on his face are not etched as deeply. No matter how the food turns out, Jensen will consider his distraction successful.

He’s in the kitchen checking on the casserole’s progress when Jared calls him over.

“The husband in this episode is a firefighter.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen stands beside the couch. Sure enough, he sees a few shots of the husband outside a station in Kansas City. “Turn it up.”

Jared does, just in time to hear the wife describing their relationship for the camera. “I always wanted to marry a fireman. They’re wild, more alive…it took me a while to tame this one, but now we need extra space for a family…”

The two of them share a look before bursting into laughter.

“I can’t imagine where she got that idea,” Jensen teases. “Y’all are a pretty dull bunch.”

“That’s only because there’s no mystique for you anymore,” Jared says with a wide smile. “Everyone else thinks we’re pretty damn irresistible.”

Jensen presses his lips together. He happens to find one firefighter in particular very difficult to resist.

Once the breakfast casserole is done, Jensen walks Jared through baking walnut brownies from scratch. He’s leaning against the counter, watching Jared stir the batter vigorously with a silicone spoon, when he’s struck by a bolt of pure, white-hot lust. The intensity almost knocks him off his feet. He clenches his fists and tries not to give anything away as Jared continues talking, unaware of the heat coursing through Jensen’s body.

He’s never wanted anyone this much, but the scene unfolding here tonight is about comfort and companionship; there’s no sex on the table (or the counter, or the couch).

He’s been deluding himself. There’s no scenario in which he doesn’t fall in love with Jared Padalecki. If he accepts that, it’s going to be even more painful when Jared eventually tells him that he doesn’t feel the same. Jensen will never be fully prepared for that day, but he intends to survive it just so he can have moments like this.

“Anything else before this goes in the oven?”

Jared’s voice is the hook that drags Jensen back to the moment. Looking up, he sees Jared has already poured the batter into the greased pan. “Nope, looks good. You’ll be cooking at the station in no time.”

They return to the couch to wait on the brownies, switching channels to watch a replay of a Rangers game. Jared starts talking about other dishes he wants to try his hand at making, and somehow that leads to Jared telling Jensen about meeting Chad when he was transferred. They were rivals at first; Chad was defending his territory from the hot-shot (in Jared’s words) newcomer. It took a few weeks before they figured out that teaming up to prank their coworkers was a much better use of their time and energy than taking out their aggression on one another.

Jensen finds himself completely relaxed, making himself comfortable on the couch while Jared tells stories of some of his and Chad’s epic firehouse pranks. He’s thankful that Jared hasn’t hinted that he ought to leave. The worries and fears that prompted him to call in the first place might not be banished, though they’ve certainly subsided enough for Jared to project a sense of calm that Jensen is drawn into.

He only means to close his eyes for a moment, but the next thing Jensen knows he’s blinking awake in the hazy, half-darkness of early morning.

When he can fully open his eyes, he notices that he’s horizontal on Jared’s couch and, to his surprise, there’s a blanket spread over him and a soft pillow under his head. Jensen spots his phone lying within reach on the coffee table. It’s almost seven in the morning, which means Jensen still has a couple of hours before his first scheduled service call.

Knowing he won’t be able to go back to sleep, Jensen sits up and looks around, discovering details he hadn’t noticed the night before. The woven blanket draped over him is bright and colorful, a contrast to the earth tones Jared seems to prefer. There are framed art posters on the wall from various exhibits and music festivals. Jensen’s eyes are drawn to one in particular: a green and gold print from the music festival where they first met. The poster’s placement, and the fact that Jared has it at all, must be coincidence. Anything else would unravel Jensen’s entire being.

After visiting the bathroom and attempting to tame his couch-hair into something presentable, Jensen heads to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. A few minutes later, Jared shuffles in with bleary eyes. When he sees Jensen standing at the counter, he smiles.

“I tried to wake you up after you fell asleep on the couch, but you sleep like a rock,” Jared comments. “Why didn’t I know that?”

Jensen shrugs. “We never did much actual sleeping when we were together.”

Jared opens his mouth to respond, but decides against it, shaking his head instead. Jensen pours him a cup of coffee from the pot—thanks to his snooping last night, he knows where Jared keeps everything in his cupboards.

“It’s too bad,” Jared says once he’s had a few sips of coffee, “about the sleeping thing, I mean. You made the funniest sounds when I put the blanket over you. It was like all these little mumbles.”

Jensen is not caffeinated enough for this. “I don’t mumble in my sleep.”

“You do, and it’s adorable.”

If he didn’t know better, Jensen would say Jared is flirting with him. Except, Jensen does know better and he still can’t find another word for it.

Jensen’s phone chimes. It’s his weekday morning alarm going off. He sighs, hating that he has to cut the morning short. “I should head home and grab a shower before work. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch though.”

“Anytime.” Jared pauses, silence hanging heavy between them as Jensen tries to work out his meaning. “What I’m trying to say is that it was nice not to be alone after what happened.”

“Right.” Jensen lets out the breath he was holding. “And hey, you learned a few new tricks in the kitchen you can take back to work.”

“I won’t show off too much. I don’t want to end up being the guy who has to cook, but at least I won’t starve.”

Once Jensen finishes his cup of coffee, he uses that as his cue to leave. Jared walks with him to the front door and holds it open. Just as Jensen is about to step off the concrete stoop, Jared stops him with a softly spoken question.

“Are you doing anything on Saturday night?”

“I haven’t made any plans.”

“Tahmoh told Chad and I about a new Honduran place over on Dorado, and we talked about trying it on our next full day off. Do you want to go with me?”

“I’d be up for that,” Jensen says. Adding Chad as a buffer between Jensen and acting on his feelings is even better. “Text me the details?”

Jared smiles and runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “Yeah, absolutely.” Everything about him this morning is so soft; Jensen needs to leave before he does anything stupid.

“I’ll see you then. Stay safe, Jared.”

“Will do, Jensen.”

As he’s pulling away from the curb, Jensen looks back and notices that Jared is still standing in the open door, watching Jensen drive off.

Throughout the remainder of the week, Jensen attempts to wrangle his wayward emotions. He needs to keep them in check if he’s going to survive the dinner on Saturday night.

Months ago, when Jared showed up at his door for the first time, Jensen was barely staying afloat as wave after wave of grief threatened to drag him under. He accepted Jared’s offer to help as the lifeline it was, unaware of where they would end up. Back then, getting attached to Jared was the last thing on Jensen’s mind. He’d been down that road before; he knew it led to heartbreak. Once the estate was taken care of, they could go their separate ways.

He curses the irony. Jensen’s finally gotten what he wished for all those years ago: a deeper relationship that went beyond sex. The only problem is that he’s craving the sex now, too. The more time he spends with Jared, the more he aches with unfulfilled need. Fantasy just won’t cut it anymore.

By the time Saturday rolls around, Jensen is no less antsy. He takes his bike out for a twenty-mile ride in the morning, enjoying the crisp air as fall creeps into Texas, and when that doesn’t wear him out, he takes two separate emergency repair calls forwarded by Misha’s automated system. When he’s finally back at home, he has just over ninety minutes to shower the grease and dirt off his skin and change before he needs to head out to the restaurant. He opts for something a little less casual than he would normally wear. A guy can dream, right?

Jensen pulls on his darkest jeans, a clean, navy blue henley, and tops it all with a leather jacket, soft, black, and collarless. The jacket had been a special purchase months ago, before Josh passed away, when Jensen intended to dip his toe back in the dating scene. The woman at the store said it made him look hot. From the look in her eyes, she hadn’t been lying. He checks himself out in the mirror and hopes he’ll turn one head tonight.

When Jensen arrives at the restaurant, he discovers that it’s more upscale than the firefighters’ usual fare. A quick glance through the windows reveals colorful decor, dim lighting, and tables occupied by couples or smartly dressed groups. Thank God he didn’t wear a flannel shirt.

“Jensen, hey!” He turns and spots Jared striding up the sidewalk towards him. The sight robs him of breath.

His eyes don’t know where to land first. On Jared’s tan and black striped sweater, or the crisp lines of his tailored pants that make his legs look impossibly long. He’s wearing leather shoes and his hair is full and loose. As far as Jensen is concerned, Jared could have stepped straight out of the pages of an Italian fashion magazine. The entire effect is devastating. Jensen’s plan is crumbling before his eyes. How is he supposed to withstand Jared when he shows up looking like a model?

“I’m glad you could make it,” Jared says, once they’re side by side. There’s an attractive flush to his cheeks. His dimples are out in full force when he smiles. “You look great, by the way.”

“You too,” he stammers, buying a few seconds until he can figure out how to respond. “Do you...should we wait for the others or do you want to go ahead and grab a table?”

Jared’s smile drops slightly. “It’s just us tonight. I made a reservation.”

“You made—” It clicks into place, cutting Jensen off mid-thought. The choice of restaurant, the way Jared asked him about dinner. Combined with the way Jared is dressed and how he’s acting, it’s not difficult to put the pieces together. “This is a date.”

“Yeah.” Jared rubs the back of his neck.

“With me?” There’s a small part of Jensen that can’t believe this is real, insisting that Jared made the effort for someone else.

“I thought that was obvious when I asked you out.”

“I, uh...I didn’t realize that’s what actually happened.”

Jared goes silent like he’s thinking back to the other morning, which is exactly where Jensen’s mind is right now. A few people pass by them on their way into the restaurant, prompting them to shift further down the sidewalk.

“Is this okay?” Jared asks hesitantly. “Do you want to go on a date with me?

Jensen is shell-shocked. He spent days psyching himself up for another night out as friends, and he’s having trouble switching gears. He ought to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“I’m still stuck on the idea that you asked me out,” Jensen tells him, feeling off-kilter.

Jared sighs. “I thought you were okay with this, especially after everything we’ve gone through over the last few months. I was finally ready to put myself out there.” He shakes his head. “I thought you had forgiven me.”

“Forgiven you?” Jensen frowns, more confused than ever. He can’t fathom why Jared sounds upset when he’s giving Jensen everything he wants. “For what?”

It’s as if Jared can’t hear the question. He rolls on, voice low and coarse. “I’ve been waiting months for you to see me as who I am now, Jensen. Not the dumbass guy I used to be.”

“I know, Jared,” Jensen says softly. “We’ve both changed.”

“And I was trying so hard not to mess anything up, even when all I wanted—” Jared shakes his head out of frustration, leaving Jensen hanging on the last word. “But I didn’t give in, I didn’t cross that line, all so you would know that I was serious about this.”

Jensen puts a hand up. “Hang on, Jared. Slow down, please.” Seeing Jared nervous and rambling has thrown him. Jensen wishes they were anywhere but out on a public sidewalk. “What are you talking about? You never crossed any lines with me.”

“I know, that’s what I’m trying to say. Fuck, do you have any idea how hard it’s been, being around you again?”

Jensen swallows, throat suddenly dry. He fights the urge to lick his lips, not knowing what kind of chain reaction that would set off. He understands the want Jared is talking about—it’s the same pull he feels whenever he and Jared are in the same room. It’s the urge to start something and the intention to finish it. So yes, he knows exactly how hard it’s been.

Still, he can’t reconcile what Jared’s saying with what has happened between them.

“You ran out,” Jensen says slowly. “The morning after the fire, after we almost...you just left. I thought we wanted the same thing.”

Jared’s shoulders sag. “That night scared the hell out of me, Jensen. Something could have happened to me in that fire, and you would never know how I felt about you.”

“Jared…”

“I came over because I needed to see you. I wanted to tell you then, but you were so freaked out that I couldn’t. I knew what you wanted,” he admits, a flush creeping up his neck the longer he talks. “I wanted it too, but neither one of us was thinking straight.”

“Why didn’t you say anything afterwards?” Jensen asks, stepping closer so he can see the way Jared’s eyes shine in the light from the restaurant behind them.

“I wanted to make sure I was ready. The last thing I wanted to do was make any more mistakes. You got over me once, I needed to do things right this time.”

Jensen’s heart is soaring. He looks Jared in the eyes and chooses his words carefully. “I never got over you, Jared. It’s not that simple.”

The next moment should mark a new beginning for both of them. Jensen wants to follow Jared into the restaurant so they can have their first real date.

But life, with all its entropy and chaos, gets in the way.

At first, Jensen thinks the screeching is in his own head. As overwhelmed as he feels, it wouldn’t surprise him. Then comes the crash, the ear-splitting grind of metal warping and the crescendo of auto glass shattering.

With his heart slamming against the inside of his ribs, he spins just in time to see a modified pickup truck slam into a sedan, leaving another car mangled and smoking in the intersection. There’s a weight against Jensen’s chest, and it’s not until he looks down that he realizes Jared has stepped in front of him and put his arm out across Jensen’s body.

The truck comes to a stop in the middle of the road, its front end crushed where it impacted the second car.

“Stay here!” Jared is shouting, already in motion. “Call 9-1-1!”

Frozen with shock, Jensen stands and watches Jared dash towards the intersection. A few other drivers have already stopped and stepped out of their cars to cautiously survey the scene. Jared runs straight up to the first car, shouting for everyone else to stay back. From one breath to the next, Jensen is spurred into action, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing with shaking fingers as he carefully makes his way closer to where Jared is checking on the driver.

Jensen can barely make out someone moving behind the spiderwebbed windshield.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

“I—I’m at the corner of Dorado and, um, Mason, and there’s been a car accident,” Jensen says in a rush. “Two cars were hit by a pickup truck. I think it ran a red light!”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Jensen. Jensen Ackles.”

“Alright Jensen, I’ve dispatched emergency services to your location. Can you tell if anyone is injured?”

“I can’t see inside the cars, but no one has gotten out. I’m with a firefighter. Jared Padalecki of Station 15. He’s at one of the cars now!”

“Is there any chance you could put him on the phone, Jensen?”

“Jared!” he calls out, carefully stepping up to the first car where Jared is speaking to the lone occupant, a young woman who’s conscious and nodding. “The dispatcher wants to talk to you.”

Jared takes the phone from Jensen. “This is firefighter Padalecki of the 1-5.” There’s a brief pause as he listens to the dispatcher. “We’ve got a multi-vehicle incident, three or possibly four persons with moderate injuries. Roll multiple ambulances to this location.” He slips the phone down below his jaw and fixes Jensen with a look that means business. “Can you stay with her, Jensen? I killed the ignition and the airbag already went off, so it’ll be okay. I need to check the other cars. Just keep her calm, I’ll be right back.”

Jensen follows the order without thinking, leaning closer as Jared jogs to where the truck and the other sedan have formed a twisted wreck of metal, Jensen’s phone pressed to his ear.

“That truck came out of nowhere,” the woman is saying, eyes straight ahead. There’s a bit of blood at her temple and powder all over her from the airbag. Otherwise, she appears unharmed. “I think I’m okay though. Should I get out of the car?”

“I’m not a firefighter, Ma’am, but if Jared told you to stay, that’s probably for the best. Alright?” She nods. If Jensen was the one sitting in the car, he wouldn’t be nearly as calm. “What’s your name?”

“Dara.”

“I’m glad you feel okay, Dara.” Jensen’s knees feel slightly wobbly, so he braces himself with one hand on the roof of her car. Ahead of them, Jared moves back and forth between the truck and the sedan. He manages to pop the hood on the sedan and reach inside for something Jensen can’t see before checking underneath the vehicles for leaking gas and fluids. Jensen watches him slip the phone into his pocket.

“So, your boyfriend is a firefighter?”

“I, um…” Her question catches Jensen off guard. His heart is still racing. At last, he hears sirens in the distance. “Yeah, he is.”

“He seems nice.”

“We were about to have dinner.” Jensen figures he should keep her talking. That’s a thing, right? Hopefully it will distract him from the fact that Jared has been leaning into the sedan for a few minutes. “I guess it was a date.”

Dara offers him a half-smile. “Sorry you got interrupted.”

“It’s no big deal. They’ve probably given away our table by now.”

The repeating drone of the sirens is getting closer. When Jensen cranes his neck to look down the street, he sees flashes of red and yellow glancing off the windows of nearby buildings. Help is coming.

“I hope he makes it up to you,” Dara tells him as a firetruck and an ambulance pull up to the scene with a rumble. First responders pour out just as another ambulance rolls up from the opposite direction.

Jared is in the street, waving and calling out. “Padalecki from the 1-5,” he introduces himself as he shakes the hand of the captain, marked by the red decal on his helmet. “Driver of the truck is pinned by the steering column and there are two more in the sedan, one with a fractured arm and another with possible head trauma. Airbags have been deactivated in these two vehicles. There’s a ruptured gas tank under the truck, so watch out.”

Jensen watches him relay information in a calm, even tone. Exactly the opposite of how Jensen feels. It’s fascinating to see this side of Jared. He remains with his fellow firefighters at the T-boned sedan while two medics usher Jensen away from Dara’s car so they have space to check her over.

Feeling superfluous, Jensen hangs back, eyes darting between the three vehicles as the rescue teams go to work. There’s a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk behind him, made up of other drivers, passer-bys, and diners coming out of the restaurant. A patrol car arrives on the scene a few minutes later and two officers start rerouting cars and clearing the street just in time for the first ambulance to pull away, carrying Dara to the nearest hospital.

“Jensen?” He doesn’t even notice Jared walking up to him until he hears his name spoken softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah, I’m good. What about them?” He tilts his head towards the other two vehicles. “Is everyone gonna be alright?”

Jared takes another step closer. “I think so. They’re all in good hands now.”

The tension eases within Jensen’s chest; he takes a long, bracing breath and realizes his hands are trembling. He goes to stuff them into his pockets, but Jared reaches out and grabs them, squeezing once before holding them loosely.

“I don’t know why I’m shaking.”

“It’s the adrenaline leaving your system,” Jared explains gently. Behind him, Jensen sees the passenger of the sedan being helped out of the car. “It’ll go away soon, I promise.”

Jensen can feel each individual nerve in his body as his system withdraws from high alert. This must be what Jared and the rest of the crew experience on every single call, and yet they do it over and over again, rolling out whenever and wherever they’re needed. Jensen always thought highly of his brother’s dedication, but watching a scene unfold in front of his eyes is much different from hearing the censored play-by-play over dinner and bad movies.

Jared is stroking the back of Jensen’s hands with his thumbs. Despite the chaos around them—bright, strobing lights, shouts between the firefighters and medics, the whir and shear of the jaws being used on the pickup truck—Jensen is grounded by that small touch. A shiver moves through Jensen’s body that has nothing to do with the car accident, or even the discussion they were having before the crash.

“Jared—”

He must notice the desperation in Jensen’s eyes. “We could still try to get our table, but I don’t think they’d let me in.”

Glancing down, Jensen sees dark stains on Jared’s pants: oil, or grease, or something Jensen doesn’t want to dwell on. His hands, which are still grasping Jensen’s, are slightly scraped and red from his efforts.

Jensen acts on impulse, moving before his brain fully comprehends his actions. Jensen pulls Jared in by their joined hands, chests colliding as their lips meet. Three years and hundreds of moments since their first kiss, yet this one hits differently than all the others. Jensen is buzzing from the crash and the aftermath, and having Jared’s mouth against his kicks everything up a notch.

Jensen remembers the pressure, the heat, the way Jared turned the simple act of kissing into something that was all-encompassing like a blazing wildfire. He feels that same intensity here and now, but there’s more behind this kiss. Before he can put his finger on what that is, Jared is breaking away.

“We should go somewhere else,” he says without easing his grip on Jensen’s hands. He bites his bottom lip and it takes a great deal of willpower for Jensen not to rush right back in to redden those lips even further.

“You don’t need to stay?” Jensen asks, eyeing the police officers taking statements behind them. The last thing he wants to do is stick around with this fire in his blood.

Jared quickly shakes his head. “I gave them my name and station. They know where to find me.”

“Do you want to come back to my house?”

“My place is closer,” Jared cuts in.

Jensen can’t resist the smoldering look in Jared’s eyes or the flush in his cheeks. “I’ll meet you there.”

They walk quickly back to the parking lot where they left their cars, bumping shoulders along the way. The transition into uncharted territory looms like a stormcloud, full of electricity. There’s so much left to say, but words aren’t going to cut it. Tonight, Jensen needs to feel.

The sound of the door slamming behind them is covered by the thump of Jensen’s back hitting the wall. Jared crowds closer, surrounding him and consuming each of his five senses all at once.

As soon as their eyes met outside Jared’s front door, whatever plans they had were incinerated by a deeper, more carnal need. He’s reluctant to break away for any reason, even to take a breath, afraid that it will shatter the moment. All that matters is that Jared wants him, and Jensen is going to do whatever it takes to show him that this is where they’re supposed to be.

They push and stumble their way to Jared’s couch, hands fighting to gain more territory as they drop and roll onto the thick sofa cushions. Jensen winds up on top by chance and presses the advantage it gives him, dragging one hand down Jared’s chest until he finds the bottom of Jared’s sweater and slips beneath it. He wants bare skin, wants to feel Jared’s muscles bunch and ripple.

Jared’s mouth is relentless as Jensen explores skin he hasn’t touched in years. Even that wasn’t long enough for Jensen to misplace his memories of long, sweaty nights and explosions of heat. Each kiss takes him back while making him curious about the tricks and preferences they’ve picked up in the meantime. Neither of them are the men they used to be, and Jensen is eager to see how their new dynamic plays out in the bedroom. If they even make it that far.

Jensen’s glad he left his jacket in the truck. As hot as it made him look (though he barely got to enjoy the effect it had on Jared before the crash), he wouldn’t want that extra layer impeding Jared’s hands, which are blazing paths up and down Jensen’s back and venturing lower. When he grips Jensen’s ass and pulls him forward in a half-thrust, they groan into each other’s mouths. Jared is hard inside his pants—there’s no disguising a cock like his—and Jensen is in a similar state, raring to go.

On the next pass, Jared grabs hold of Jensen’s shirt and begins working it off him. Jensen has to sit up and break the kiss to strip it off, but it’s worth pressing pause to see the flash in Jared’s eyes and know they’re riding this wave together.

“Your turn,” Jensen growls, balancing on his shins so he can tug Jared’s stained sweater up his torso, desperate for access to more skin. After tossing the sweater aside, he finds himself staring down at an unexpected sight. Jensen traces dark ink with hungry eyes, jumping between the tattoos that definitely weren’t there three years ago.

Jared follows Jensen’s gaze down to his own chest, offering a low, breathy laugh. “After I had the first one done, I got a little addicted.”

The black lines and lettering create a gorgeous contrast to Jared’s golden, end-of-summer skin. The symbols and words don’t mean anything to Jensen yet. Each one is a small work of art and he wants to know their significance, what Jared was thinking when each line was set into his skin. But now is not the time for that. They’re bound for more physical pleasures.

Jensen leans down and finds Jared’s mouth open and waiting. The sensation of skin-to-skin contact kicks things up a notch. If they don’t move soon, they’re going to defile Jared’s couch. Jared spreads his palms wide around Jensen’s ribs and pushes him up, fluidly rising to his feet, never letting Jensen move more than a few inches away. Progress is slow; there’s too much skin to touch, too many things Jensen wants to experience. He’s imagined a night like this for so long, and he can’t shake the thought that he needs to cram every suppressed desire into the span of a few hours.

Eventually, after multiple stops for thorough kissing against walls and kitchen counters, kicking off their shoes before one of them trips and ruins the night with a bloody nose, they make it into Jared’s bedroom. One of Jared’s hands is warm and heavy against Jensen’s neck, angling his face to deepen their kiss, while the other holds Jensen close by the small of his back. Jensen has both of his hands around Jared’s waist, feeling every shift of muscle along his sides.

“What do you want?” Jensen manages to ask between assaults on his lips, which are wet and tingling. He knows what he wants—the list outnumbers stars in the sky—but he’s not alone tonight.

“Probably the same thing you want.” Jared punctuates his ballsy statement with a roll of his hips and drops his forehead against Jensen’s. It’s intimate and obscene at the same time, a combination that’s lethal for Jensen’s self-control.

With a hard shove, Jared ends up on his back, looking up at Jensen from the bed with a wicked grin and putting himself on display. His confidence—what Jensen used to call cockiness—is now a quality Jensen admires. He enjoys seeing just how much Jared desires him, and he’s hardly shy about showing it.

Jensen crawls slowly onto the bed, one knee on either side of Jared’s thick right thigh, dropping a hand to his zippered fly. “What do you want?” he repeats, this time with a sharper edge, captivated by the way Jared’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

“That,” Jared gasps, “more of that. Fuck, Jensen...I remember the way you used to take me apart and work out exactly what I needed. Slow or hard, you always knew.”

Holy fuck. Jensen has never been particularly affected by dirty talk from his partners. Coming out of Jared’s mouth, however, the effect is instantaneous: a wave of arousal that rampages through his body. It’s crazy that Jensen ever thought he could let this go. He’s always known that their connection could be stronger than pure lust, and now he’s staring down at the proof. It’s a heady thing to have Jared laid out, pliant and needy, spread out like a feast. Jensen doesn’t know where to go first.

He could start with Jared’s chest to see if he’s still sensitive along his ribs, if he’ll squirm when Jensen sets his mouth and fingertips to that smooth skin. He could explore those tattoos and listen to Jared describe their significance in a hushed, blissed out voice. Or, Jensen could begin with Jared’s legs, stripping off his pants and teasing a little. He wants to see if Jared is hiding any more ink under his clothing. Then, he could push Jared’s knees apart and drag his tongue up his soft inner thighs. Maybe he’d get his mouth around Jared’s balls, rolling and sucking gently while Jared’s cock rests tantalizingly close to his cheek, inches from where Jared wants it the most.

Jensen could delve even further between Jared’s legs, back to the ass that could have been sculpted in marble. Get between thick muscles to open Jared up with his fingers or, if he’s feeling particularly naughty, his tongue. Whip-fast and thorough, he’d prepare Jared for his cock, because he knows how much Jared wants it when he’s writhing and moaning like this.

All of these possibilities, yet one transcends the rest. Jensen raises his eyes to Jared’s lips, pink and smirking as if he’s aware of what’s running through Jensen’s mind.

Jensen drops down before that smirk grows any wider. Jared arches his spine and meets him halfway, hands running up Jensen’s arms before wrapping around his back. They roll across the bed as kissing morphs into grinding, a horizontal dance that leaves sweat beading on Jensen’s forehead and all along Jared’s neck.

“Gonna make me wait all night?” Jared taunts, squeezing Jensen with his thighs. Jensen is surrounded by Jared’s scent: his room, his sheets, his skin. It fills his lungs and settles old hurts.

“No more waiting.” He doesn’t fumble with Jared’s zipper like a nervous lover; he’s fixated on one thing. Jared moves up the bed to finish shimmying out of his pants, and Jensen watches him reach for the drawer beside the bed, retrieving lube and condoms.

“I know we’d stopped using condoms before,” Jared says, eyes on the way the sheets have swirled beneath Jensen’s elbow, in a moment of uncharacteristic shyness. “I wasn’t exactly a saint after you left.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen insists, breathing faster now that Jared is entirely naked. “None of it matters, okay?”

Jared throws his head back. “Fuck, I want you so much.”

He’s more beautiful in Jensen’s eyes than ever before. A V-shaped torso lined with lean muscle, extra bulk in his arms and thighs from the rigors of the job. Jensen wants to drag his tongue along the cut of Jared’s hips and follow it down to the end of his dark treasure trail.

But he can explore later. With Jared undulating beneath him, pressing that exquisite body against Jensen’s, he can’t hold out much longer. He’s never been more aroused in his life; his jeans are suddenly too restrictive, and he pushes away to strip them off. Jensen might not be in the same kind of shape—there has always been a softness to his strength—though it’s clearly not a problem for Jared, who’s devouring Jensen with his gaze as he steps out of his underwear and moves back over him. When his eyes drop to Jensen’s heavy cock, he licks his lips in a subliminal invitation.

“Slow and sweet?” Jensen taunts, grabbing the lube and warming it between his fingers. “Is that how you want it?”

Jared moans and wraps one hand around his dick, pulling slowly and spreading his legs even wider. His upper chest is sex-flushed and sweaty, abdominals rippling as he begs with his body.

“Come on, Jensen,” he pleads, adding fuel to the fire.

“I’m thinkin’ slow, but maybe not so sweet.” Jensen walks his lubed fingers down below Jared’s balls and back across his perineum, teasing his hole. He waits until Jared is bucking before sliding his finger in all the way to the last knuckle.

Jared hisses, spine tensing. He takes a few long breaths before relaxing into the stretch. Fingering Jared was always a heady, powerful experience, the way he rocks into it with his entire body, gasping and desperate. If Jensen had all night, or more patience, he would get Jared off just like this, one finger at a time. He never had the time before, always rushed to cram as much pleasure into the precious hours they spent together.

He opens Jared up on two, then three fingers, running his free hand up and down the inside of Jared’s thigh to feel the tautness of his muscles and the way they shake as he tries to fuck himself on the intruding digits.

“Too slow,” he complains breathlessly, though he’s betrayed by the way his cock leaves wet streaks across his skin. Jensen knows what he needs.

“It’s been too long. Let me savor this.”

Jared huffs, turning his face away. Jensen can’t have that—he wants to watch every desire and emotion come to life in those eyes—so he has mercy, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the condom with his clean hand. His impatient lover beats him to it, tearing open the foil package and pulling Jensen between his legs. Jared rolls the condom down, bottom lip between his teeth, letting Jensen add more lube.

There’s a moment, just as he’s positioned to push into Jared’s body, when the weight of the last few months threatens to crush him. It’s the culmination of grief and need and love gathering like a storm before being blown away by the warm press of Jared’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss that never breaks even as Jensen holds his cock and steady and opens Jared with the tip.

Nothing in his memories or fantasies compares to the feeling of being inside Jared. Their mouths move together as Jensen seats himself fully after a long, slow slide that leaves their chests heaving. He doesn’t move until Jared nudges him forward with his knees, careful as he pulls back for the first time.

One of Jared’s huge hands winds around the back of Jensen’s head, raking softly through his hair in counterpoint to the urgent rhythm set by Jensen’s hips. His other hand skims possessively down Jensen’s flank, compelling him to move faster. They’re kissing so deeply, Jensen almost gets lost, drifting away from his body’s demands, until Jared nips at his jaw and brings him back.

Jensen leans back, enjoying the sight of Jared in the midst of his pleasure. He adjusts his angle, shifting from side to side, until Jared gasps and throws his hips up.

“There we go,” he whispers, doubling his efforts. One of Jared’s legs is bent back so far, his knee is nearly brushing his shoulder. As fast as Jensen’s hips are moving, Jared wants more, clawing and clinging with all of his strength.

Jensen braces himself on the bed and gazes down at Jared’s slack-jawed face. He’s panting and tossing his head back and forth as Jensen ravages him, his hair tousled and fanned out on the sheets. Neither one of them objects to the rough thrusts; Jensen needs to stake his claim as badly as Jared needs to feel it.

No longer able to hold on, Jared drops his arms and reaches for his cock. It’s red and straining, thrusting in and out of his grip, when Jensen glances down. Next time, he vows to finish Jared off with his mouth, eager to tease him within an inch of his life. Every sound he wrangles from Jared’s throat winds Jensen tighter. He could come just like this, hard and fast, but he reaches for Jared’s empty hand instead, breaking his own rhythm to wind their fingers together.

Jared squeezes back, muttering, “Please Jensen, please…” over and over, while continuing to stroke himself.

That small point of extra contact means everything; this moment transcends anything that came before. Jensen watches Jared fall apart, muscles locked in pleasure as semen splashes between them. His red lips are parted in ecstasy, and Jensen is compelled to lean down and cover them with his own as he thrusts once, twice, before reaching his own climax.

They continue kissing while their bodies ride out their orgasms. Jared shudders through the aftershocks, breathing erratically against Jensen’s mouth. Jensen keeps his mouth soft and gentle as his limbs start to feel heavy. He stays pressed against Jared until he has to pull out, securing the condom with one hand and trying not to crush Jared as he rolls to the side.

Jensen feels each and every one of his forty-two years when he stands up to dispose of the condom and wash his hands. Yet he wouldn’t trade a moment of what they just shared, he thinks as he walks back into the bedroom to find Jared waiting for him with a sleepy grin. The top sheet has been stripped off and tossed aside for the time being.

Jared looks up through hazy, half-lidded eyes and reaches out. Jensen takes his hand and climbs back into bed, pulling the comforter up and settling in with his head on one of Jared’s pillows.

They’re both still naked. If they stay that way, Jensen has a feeling that won’t be their only trip around the bases tonight. He already misses having Jared’s skin against his, and he rectifies that by pulling Jared close enough to run his fingers over the closest tattoo: thick, intricate script below his ribs on his left side. Jensen is too tired to ask what it says, and he’s going to need an hour or two of sleep for the inevitable second round.

“Stay,” Jared whispers, something he’d never said three years ago. With that one word, Jensen knows they’re finally heading in the right direction.

“I will.”

Jensen has always been an early riser. He likes taking care of things before the day really gets going. That’s not what rouses him on this particular Sunday morning though, blinking awake to weak light peeking through unfamiliar curtains and falling on a broad set of shoulders.

He smiles before carefully sliding out of the warm bed, trying not to disturb Jared while he uses his bathroom. He slips into his henley from the night before as well as a pair of clean knit pants he finds in a basket in the laundry room attached to Jared’s bathroom. When he comes out, he lingers at the side of the bed, soaking in the view. Jared is fast asleep, face relaxed, chest slowly rising and falling. All evidence points to him not being a morning person, which isn’t a surprise. Neither was Josh. Jensen supposed it had something to do with firefighters being home in their own beds and being able to fall asleep without the threat of a station alarm calling them out in the middle of the night.

Jensen leaves him sleeping peacefully—he’s certainly earned the rest, Jensen reminisces with a satisfied smirk. In Jared’s kitchen, he starts a pot of coffee, leaning on the counter while the machine brews with a comforting gurgle and drip.

He hasn’t felt this good in months.

Mug in hand, he finds himself drawn out to the little deck outside Jared’s backdoor. His yard is small, yet neat, and fenced in to provide plenty of privacy unlike Jensen’s open space. Jensen leans on the railing, savoring the cool air as the sun rises and turns the clouds pink against the brightening sky. The morning air feels wonderful on his skin, and the sounds of nature waking up are soothing.

Without the distraction of shock, or chaos, or sex to keep him occupied, Jensen’s thoughts wander back to scene on the street last night. Watching Jared rush into action should have caused him to spiral into a panic. Even without a fire, the situation could have been dangerous between the leaking gasoline and the potential for more vehicles to become involved. Jensen’s adrenaline had spiked, but it wasn’t because of fear. He’s grateful they were there so that Jared could help Dara and the others as much as he could—being a first responder is truly his calling.

Jared finds him outside twenty minutes later, stepping onto the deck with his own cup of coffee. He’s no longer naked, which is a shame, though it’s probably for the best that they allow themselves some time to recover.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” he asks. His smile is warm and inviting, as is his hand at the small of Jensen’s back, yet it doesn’t cover the hint of apprehension in his voice. Jensen has some work to do if he’s going to prove to Jared that he’s in this too, one hundred percent.

“I was thinking about last night,” Jensen admits, leaning slightly into Jared’s touch.

“Good things? Bad things?”

Jensen turns his head and smiles softly. “Just...things.” He knows he won’t get away with such a brief explanation. He could wait, tell Jared later, but there’s something about the cool, quiet morning that makes talking easier. “I’ll always be afraid of losing you like I lost Josh,” he says, “especially now that we have this.”

It helps to feel Jared pressed up against his side, a pillar of silent support.

“Watching you try to help everyone last night...I understand why you do it, okay? I want this, Jared. I’m not saying I won’t freak out next time you rush into a fire, but I swear I’ll do my best not to let that fear get the best of me.”

He leans even farther into Jared’s warmth, relieved to finally say all of that out loud. When he glances to the side, Jared is looking back with an expression Jensen’s never seen before. He’d call it admiration, but that’s only part of the story.

“I know that fear too,” Jared says after a moment. “The fire last month was the first time I realized I had something to lose if I didn’t walk out.”

He turns to face Jensen, his coffee cup forgotten on the railing. Jensen finds it difficult to breathe, his heart racing, knowing that this is the moment that will make them or break them.

“For years, after a bad call, I wished I had someone to come home to, and I used to think about how you were the only guy I’d been with who wanted to know who I was beyond the sex and the uniform. It freaked me out, because I didn’t even know who I was back then, and I was an asshole when you asked for more. I missed you, after you were gone.” He sighs, and Jensen waits. They’ve earned patience from one another. “I’m glad you understand how important my job is—I can’t give that up. But I can’t give you up either, Jensen. You see all of me now.”

“I know,” Jensen manages to say, with relief filling his chest. They’re pressed together, no way to hide what they’re feeling. Jared leans down for a kiss, and it’s as gentle and warming as the sunrise behind them. In some ways, Jensen realizes, this moment may be more intimate than what they shared last night.

Jared’s eyes are full of wonder when he draws back. “I can’t promise that nothing’s ever gonna happen to me, but I can tell you ‘I love you’ every morning that I’m lucky enough to wake up beside you.”

There was a time when Jensen thought he’d never hear a confession like that from Jared. The words are simple, yet they mean everything to Jensen. His shock is exceeded by pure delight. “What about right now?” he asks, tilting his chin for another kiss.

Jared’s smile outshines the sun. “Well, you weren’t in bed when I woke up, so I guess you’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“The morning’s not over yet,” he points out, pulling Jared back in and whispering against his lips, “so let’s go back to bed.”

“Am I late?” Jensen asks as he rushes into the station where Jared is waiting for him. “The traffic was terrible.”

“You’re just in time.” Jared leans in for a kiss that’s too brief. They’d agreed it was best not to scare Chad with anything too hot and heavy after he caught them enthusiastically making out against Jensen’s truck a week into their relationship. “How’d the closing go?”

“Smooth sailing, just like Shoshannah promised.” He knows Jared is asking about more than the paperwork involved in selling the condo. Jensen had expected to be more of an emotional wreck as he handed over the keys to Josh’s place to the new owners, yet all he felt was relief once it was finished. “Just a few more things to take care of with the mortgage, and we’re all set.”

“Good.” Jared wraps him up in a comforting hug before they make their way out into the engine bay.

Jensen lingers a step behind to admire Jared in his uniform—he’s definitely not immune to the sight anymore. Jared’s pants and shirt are clean and freshly ironed, badge shining like it’s been polished recently, and his hair is carefully pulled back. Jared is even wearing a matching tie to complete his spiffed-up appearance. As Jensen looks around, he realizes the rest of the crew has done the same. It makes sense; they want to impress their new captain.

The engine and ladder trucks were moved outside for the afternoon, leaving plenty of room for the tables and chairs that have been set up. There’s a buffet with food and non-alcoholic drinks to one side where the small catering staff is making sure all the first responders and their families are taken care of. Jensen is doubly glad that he didn’t have to cook for this particular occasion, given the number of people around.

Jensen remembers the ceremony to commemorate Josh’s promotion to captain and the pride he felt when his brother took command of the 1-5 for the first time. When he looks across the bay now and recognizes so many smiling faces, soaking in the joy of the moment, Jensen understands that his brother’s legacy is going to live on in these remarkable men and women.

His fingers are caught and squeezed in a reassuring grasp. Jared is smiling encouragingly when Jensen looks up from their joined hands.

“You okay?”

“I’m good,” Jensen admits. He can sense Josh’s spirit throughout the firehouse, and with Jared standing beside him, his heart is full.

For the first time in months, his happiness outweighs his grief. What he and Jared are building is richer than anything Jensen could have imagined. Their passion for one another hasn't flickered one bit in the six weeks they've been together, but it's so much deeper than lust. Jensen lives for the mornings when he wakes up beside Jared and hears those three words and finding the perfect moments to say them back. It's not comfortable, it's real, not based on a fantasy Jensen constructed out of loneliness. They've shared more of their lives with one another, talked through the misunderstandings that plagued them in the months after Josh passed away. When the grief comes back, rolling over Jensen like a wave, Jared is there to anchor him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen catches Tahmoh heading their way. Unlike the rest of the crew, he’s wearing his full dress uniform. Jared notices him approaching and waits for Jensen to nod confidently before heading across the room to help Aldis set up the last of the chairs.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Jensen says, reaching out for a handshake. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous as hell,” Tahmoh says. “I didn’t think there would be a ceremony.”

“We have to celebrate. You deserve this, Tahmoh. Aren’t you happy?”

The soon-to-be-captain sighs. “I am, I only wish…”

Jensen empathizes. “I know, but Josh would be thrilled for you. He wouldn’t want anyone else stepping into his shoes. I’m proud of you too,” he adds softly.

Tahmoh’s smile is a little more robust after hearing that, and he pulls Jensen in for a firm, one-armed hug. He doesn’t get a chance to respond before Deputy Chief Morgan, here to oversee the ceremony, is calling him over.

Jensen takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He’s got a few minutes until the festivities officially begin, and he finds himself drawn to the near side of the engine bay. There on the wall between the turnout lockers hangs a new addition to Station 15. The plaque was finished last week, and while Tahmoh sent photos of the final design, Jensen has yet to see it in person. It was something personal for the crew here, one they would pass by every day, whereas the memorial bench in the nearby city park will eventually stand for the public to visit.

Josh’s smile beams out from his official DFD portrait, placed in the center of the framed and matted collage. Surrounding that are photos of the former captain with his crew, with his friends, and with Jensen. One big family. Jensen is grateful to be a part of it.

“I’ll keep an eye on them for you,” he vows with a whisper.

“As long as I get to keep an eye on you,” he hears as Jared steps up behind him.

Jensen doesn’t need to turn around. He leans back against his boyfriend’s chest and smiles.

“Deal.”

FIN.