NC-17 | In This Windy City (4/8)

[dugindeep]

The picture burns in his pocket but he hasn’t had a chance to mention it; having arrived at the scene separately, they left separately.

When they reach their desks, Jared can’t hold onto it anymore, and despite the way Jensen’s been more closed off than usual and has barely offered up his own conversation, Jared leans close and puts a hand to Jensen’s back with a soft, “Hey, we have to talk about something.”

“Not right now,” Jensen says as he flicks through a few papers at the top of his desk.

“Back at the scene,” he starts, but Jensen’s sharp glare shuts him up. He’s tempted to pull the picture out, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it in the bullpen, surrounded by other officers and detectives. When he looks down to Jensen still rifling through paperwork, Jared’s eyes catch one particular sheet. He grabs it and looks over Gina Murray’s Room and Board registry. “What the-”

“She wasn’t getting married.”

“Yeah, I see that,” he mumbles when the words rocking chair and bonnet jump out at him. “Ferris have any DNA on it?”

“No, I looked for myself.”

Jared is terrified at the idea of Jensen stepping into the morgue and doing any sort of investigation on a dead body that’s already half open.

Jensen rolls his eyes as he drops into his chair. “Christ, you’re dramatic.” He tosses photocopies of credit card bills at the edge of the desk for Jared to look at. “She’s been shopping around. Not too hard to figure it out.”

A combination of Master Card and Discover bills show purchases at Babies ‘R Us and Land of Nod, and suddenly Jared feels incredibly stupid for assuming Jensen either would have been professionally inept to not find this or that he could’ve found Gina Murray’s pregnancy in a less dignified manner.

“At the scene, I found a picture,” Jared mumbles with his eyes still raking over the credit card statements.

“What kind of picture,” Jensen asks without pause, continuing to dig through another stack of mail from the apartment.

“The kind with you and the victim.”

They stare at each other long enough that Jared has to swallow down his nerves, hoping he doesn’t say anything before Jensen can offer an explanation.

There’s a bustle behind Jared, loud voices in the hallway getting nearer and a few detectives gathering at the doorway. The fuss of people at the door go on for a few moments before they part and allow Alderman Price and his wife to enter. Her hand is wound tight into the back of the Alderman’s jacket and he’s staring right at Jared and Jensen, but no one says a word.

Jensen rises and stands close to Jared, enough that his shoulder brushes Jared’s back, and there’s an inkling of their camaraderie coming to the surface as Jared leans into to the touch.

“What in Sam’s hell is goin’ on?” Beaver’s door swings open with his complaint but he’s silenced from further complaints at the sight of the Prices. He bows his head in greeting. “Mrs. Price. Alderman.”

Jared’s fingers twitch; if they were anywhere else than the station, far away from coworkers, he’d reach for Jensen in a second, for both their comforts. He does glance over his shoulder to see Jensen’s chest rise and fall with deep breaths and his eyes suddenly look tired and guilty.

As the Lieutenant and Alderman start a quiet discussion with Beaver motioning into his office, Mrs. Price breaks away and stalks right up to Jared and Jensen.

“I thought you caught him,” she says with just the right amount of nastiness to put Jared on guard.

“Ma’am, if you will,” Jared starts, pointing beyond her to his boss and her husband stopped in the doorway across the room. “We can sit and talk about this.”

“I don’t want to sit-”

“We can all talk about it with Lieutenant Beaver,” Jared interrupts gently. “If you want to take a moment-”

“What I want is for you to find out who killed my daughter!” she shouts up to him, and the whole room goes silent.

“June,” Jensen says, voice thick before he clears his throat and steps around Jared to greet her. “June, please, let’s go into the Lieutenant’s office and we’ll-”

“I don’t want to go into the Lieutenant’s office,” she yells, but her voice starts to drop as tears fill her eyes. “I just want to know who took my baby girl from me.”

Without hesitation, betraying the nerves that had locked him up just a minute ago, Jensen wraps his arms around her and lets her sob into his shoulder.




“We’re not certain it’s tied to your daughter,” Beaver’s saying as Jared leans against the wall and tucks his hands tighter into his pants’ pockets, trying to remain calm following the Price’s dramatic entrance. “It’s still mighty early and we’re now processing an entirely different crime scene.”

“But the news said the girl looked like-” Mrs. Price starts before Beaver puts a careful hand up to interrupt.

“There are similarities between this and your daughter. You’re right, there are. But we don’t know what exactly we’re dealing with just yet.”

“What do you know?” the Alderman asks with a hard edge to the words.

Beaver flashes Jared and Jensen a look. While Jared figures he’s looking for help, for someone to support the possibility that nothing’s connected even when it seems that there’s something there, he can’t help but stare at the parents of the first victim in what Jared suspects is their unsolved double homicide.

“We know that we have two cases that look, on the surface, to be quite similar,” Beaver says firmly. “And in due time, with our crime scene report finished in the next few days, we’ll have more to say at that time.”

“Jensen,” Alderman Price practically barks, and Jensen jerks up from the wall to stand at attention.

Jared’s pretty sure if it weren’t incredibly tense or about the death of someone Jensen knew, he’d later laugh at the matter. Instead, he looks down and hears the Alderman ask Jensen what he knows.

Jensen clears his throat, tucks his hands behind his back, and as leans forward to speak. “There’s not much here yet. Like Lieutenant Beaver said, you have to give us time.”

“What about the guy who was following Samantha?”

Jared pushes off the wall at Mrs. Price’s question.

“John said Gina knew him, too,” she adds.

“What guy?” Beaver asks quickly yet calm enough to not warrant worry with the Prices.

Mrs. Price looks around the room to catch each man’s eyes. “Samantha said there was a guy near the train station who would walk with her for a few blocks, trying to talk to her.”

Jared shifts with a small sigh and tries not to glare at either Jensen or Beaver as he regards them. “This never came up before?”

“And John’d been saying that someone was pestering Gina. Surely John told you,” Alderman Price says, looking right at Jensen.

Jensen shakes his head. “No. Detective Morgan handled John’s questioning.”

“But just last week, you saw him-”

“I haven’t seen him in years,” Jensen cuts in.

“John said he saw you at the District Fundraiser,” the Alderman pushes with a nod.

With another shake of his head and bringing his shoulders up high, Jensen insists, “No, I didn’t see him.”

“But you were there, weren’t you?” Mrs. Price asks.

The conversation carries on as Jared’s attention kicks between the members of the group, with Jensen insisting he hadn’t seen John Murray since they were in college and the Prices continuing to question it. He knows he should focus on it, but it’s impossible at the uncomfortable way Jensen won’t meet anyone’s eyes, or how his voice is becoming more restless and impatient as it goes on further.

“Alderman,” Beaver cuts in loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Mrs. Price. Do you know who was following Samantha?”

Mrs. Price shakes her head. “She never said a name.”

Jared clears his throat and steps forward. “Alderman, what about your situation?”

“What about it?” he asks tightly.

“With you possibly bringing down cops with bad reps and informant issues?”

“This couldn’t have anything to do with Samantha,” Mrs. Price immediately says.

Jared takes his time with the silence covering the room. He glances at Jensen then gives as straight a look to the Alderman as he can. “It could.”

“How on earth?” the Alderman asks, voice rising with irritation.

“Sir, the woman we found this morning was Gina Murray.” The Alderman’s eyes drop immediately and Mrs. Price looks confused. “You worked with her on Friends of the Parks, correct?”

“Yes, yes, I did.”

“We talked to a witness who’d talked to her and she knew about the cops you were gunning down.”

Price shakes his head then looks up to Jared, suddenly tired. “I wasn’t gunning people down. But there were a lot of problems concerning my residents and mistreatment or complete ignorance of neighborhood issues. Then we were having trouble with patrols near the new park site. That’s how Gina knew.”

“Do you have any names?”

“Of the cops?” he asks with a short chuckle.

Jensen grabs at Jared’s elbow, tugging enough to disrupt the conversation. “We don’t need the names. It’s fine.”

Jared yanks his arm away. “What do you mean, it’s fine?”

Beaver clears his throat. “Detectives, if you don’t mind.”

Watching Jensen, Jared does his best to not put the others in the room on edge but he can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head, why he’s not exactly pushing the bit of evidence they got from Bell just a day ago.

“I’ll finish this with the Prices. Can you give us the room, please?”




Jared pushes Jensen into the changing area then all-but kicks the door shut, shoving a folding chair under the handle to keep anyone from entering without some major force.

Jensen spins back to him, annoyed but not looking at him.

With his hands out, Jared gives a harsh smirk and a bitter tone. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

“With what?”

He points behind him to the door. “The Prices. Or the Murrays? Or our two murders that you seem to be inexplicably linked to but can’t bother to talk about? I’ll even accept you explaining why you’re being such a dick today.”

Jensen groans, pushing past Jared with an “Oh, come on,” but Jared pushes him again, slamming him into the lockers lining the nearest wall.

When Jensen doesn’t bother to fight back, Jared breathes hard and waits for him to speak.

Finally, Jensen says, “I didn’t see Murray at the thing.”

“Funny, because they seem to think so.”

“Goddamnit, Jared,” he huffs and shoves a locker door closed with a loud clank.

“Were you there?” Jensen doesn’t answer and Jared’s voice rises. “Were you there?”

“Yes! I was there, but I didn’t see him.” Jensen huffs a few times then settles with a hand out to ease the situation. “I didn’t see him, okay? I swear. I didn’t know he was there.”

Jared glares at him. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

After a few moments of just staring at each other, Jared pulls out the photograph of Jensen with their two victims and holds it up. “What’s this?”

“I don’t,” Jensen argues before stopping and actually looking at the picture. “Where did you get that?”

Jared lets Jensen take the photo then runs a hand through his hair while the other lands on his hip and he turns away. “It was in the locked box.”

“I don’t … I don’t know,” Jensen mumbles. “I don’t know what to say.”

Closing his eyes, Jared says, “You knew both the girls, knew their families years ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

“They were being followed by someone they knew.”

“What’re you saying?” Jensen demands, glaring at Jared.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s getting pretty suspicious.”

Jensen shoves Jared away and marches to the door. Jared grabs his shoulder but Jensen shrugs out of it. “Back off, alright! I don’t wanna deal with you.”

“Jensen, just a-”

“No!” he shouts, pointing a finger in Jared’s face. “You were all about trying to stick with it last night and now you’re shoving evidence in my face.”

“What’m I supposed to do?”

A split second later, Jensen’s fist connects with Jared’s face, knuckles tight against his cheekbone. Jared flinches away, bending over and holding his face, watching the picture flutter to the ground at his feet.

“You could stop being such a dick.”

When Jared rights himself and leans against the lockers, he rubs a thumb over the reddened, pursed skin and thinks over the times they’ve fought. They’ve never landed hits and it’s never been this tense.

The look they share doesn’t last long, nor does it make Jared feel anything but guilt and anger over the whole thing, because Jensen’s eyes are fierce and daring him to say or do anything.

Jared doesn’t move, not even when Jensen jerks the chair from under the door handle and it clatters to the ground as he yanks the door open and leaves. He stays against the lockers but keeps his eyes on the photo facing up. Jensen’s carefree there with a wide smile that opens his face up and shows off shiny, youthful eyes. Through the few years of their partnership and the last year of them together, he’s seen Jensen as a lot of things. This capture of pure joy is foreign to him.

With that thought consuming his brain, he doesn’t immediately react to the door opening or Officer Collins entering the Locker Room. “Hey, Padalecki? You okay?” he asks, eyes locked in on the red bloom already forming high on Jared’s cheek.

He looks down and away and mumbles, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Collins bends down to grab the photo with a casual, “This yours?” But his hand stalls in the air as he looks at it, curious then suddenly apprehensive. “What’s this?”

“Just a picture,” Jared replies, as nonchalantly as possible, but it appears Collins doesn’t buy it because he won’t return the picture.

“This from your case?”

“What?” he tries to dismiss with a careful shrug, but even he can hear the nerves in his voice.

“Isn’t this the girl from the park?”

Right then, Jared knows that the picture belongs anywhere but with him. Really, he knew it the second he saw it but had been trying to figure it out on the side.




For all of Sunday and Monday, they split up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal; they’ve split up for efficiency before, but never like this. Without a word spoken or a plan made to meet up later and discuss.

They each take to interviewing family members and coworkers that Morgan doesn’t have the manpower or time for. It’s mostly a bust because, of course, the senior detective is handling people who better knew Gina Murray while Jared talks to the Left Bank doorman who can only say, “Pretty, tall brunette? Yeah, she just moved in last month. Great legs.”

Jared sends Jensen a few texts throughout the day, trying to gauge his mood and success with his own work but nothing is returned until after Jared is already done for the day and collapsing into bed.

Nothing is Jensen’s texted response.

at all?? Jared replies.

That’s what I said

Jared pauses, sighs, and runs a hand over his face. He’s close to hitting send to have this conversation with an actual voice and inflections. Instead, he texts, we should talk

About what?

us, the case, etc

The response doesn’t come quickly, but it’s enough to send Jared’s heart racing. When the case is over

Jared’s fingers fumble out an answer and he takes even longer to correct it than he does to think about it. could be months

Yeah

There are so many bitchy remarks spinning in his brain, along with even more upset, offended, sad thoughts to Jensen putting them on hold right now and effectively ending what they have.

Not that it’s a solid relationship, or anything they can boast about – being police officers and partners discounts that possibility. But Jared can’t imagine working with Jensen, facing him most of his waking hours, without thinking more of it.

Before he can manage to come up with a response that isn’t angry, pathetic, or dismissive, he falls asleep.




Jared can’t figure out what he feels when he sees Jensen’s car in the station parking lot that morning. Thankful comes to mind, happy that Jensen’s still coming in and willing to sit in the same room. Maybe they can take a moment to discuss this logically and maturely, figure out what’s going on and how to deal with it.

Except there’s definitely a bit of anger and bitterness in his system at the sight of Jensen’s desk turned away from his. He wants to laugh at the pettiness of it, but in a way, he’s glad that he knows where they stand for the moment.

He drops into his seat, hand automatically reaching for the white, covered coffee cup at the edge of his desk. It’s Jensen’s thing, always brings coffee in the mornings, and it seems off base right here, but Jared grabs it anyway. Then he shakes it when he realizes there’s less than a third in there and likely was left behind by someone else. He pitches it into the garbage can then leans back in his seat and signs into the Police Department’s system.

The first few messages in his work email are alerts ones he’d caught on his phone but barely paid attention to. Now, there’s Benedict rambling on about evidence from the case, followed by a rather nasty toned message from Morgan about tampering with items in an investigation and fucking over my scene.

As if Jared hadn’t felt like it was enough betrayal to turn in the photo, he’s now facing the fact that he has to explain why his, Jensen’s, and Collins’ fingerprints are there.

His desk phone rings and he rolls his eyes before picking it up and tucking it into his shoulder as he begins typing a response to Benedict. “Homicide. This is Padalecki.”

“At the risk of you spoiling yet another part of my case and you fucking me-”

Jared rolls his eyes yet again at the pissy tone from Detective Morgan on the line. “Hate to tell you, but you’re not really my type.”

Morgan continues on, “Completely sideways, maybe you two asses could help me cruise Union.”

“I’ve never needed a wingman, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Just as Morgan rants in return for Jared’s smart mouth, Jensen turns in his seat. At first Jensen’s eyes go wide and he subconsciously rubs at his brow; Jared figures he’s staring at the nice beet-red blotch that’s formed under Jared’s eye, a mark that also holds a nicely centered purple patch.

But then Jensen’s eyes scroll over Jared’s whole face before he looks to the side. There isn’t much, but there’s enough in the profile to see that Jensen’s listening in and ready to be part of the conversation. Jared’s heart speeds up at the thought of them talking, or at Jensen fighting with him more. He’s not sure which he really expects to happen. Except, Jensen stays silent through Jared’s conversation with Morgan.

“What’re you looking for at Union anyway?” Jared asks with a flat tone.

“Gina Murray’s stalker.”

Jared sits up, chair squeaking with the quick movement, and Jensen turns a bit more at the sound. “How’d you know about that?”

“How’d you?”

“The Prices said someone was following her and Samantha.”

“When’d you hear this? Christ,” Morgan sighs angrily. “You keeping this info in your pocket with a bunch of photos?”

Jared licks his bottom lip then bites it to stop any smart remarks.

“Better late than never, I suppose. Christ, you kids are messes with cases. Maybe you need yourselves a mentor,” he suggests, more than smug.

Jared looks to Jensen with a raised eyebrow and mouths Morgan. Jensen shakes his head in sympathy then shifts more to watch, though he still seems awkward to be bothering with Jared.

“Don’t know how you do things over there, but in the 21st, we actually log evidence and welcome a group effort to rule out suspects.”

“Suspects?” Jared asks icily, unnerved that Morgan’s beat them to the punch.

“Yeah, like ones who show up in pictures with our victims?”

He shifts in his seat, putting an elbow on the desk and looking down at his fingers flipping through the edges of papers stacked to his left. “What’re you thinking?” he asks as level as possible.

“I’m thinking that I’ll share when I’m ready.”

“If you’re going down that road, why bother with Union?”

Morgan chuckles and Jared hates imagining how much longer they’ll have to deal with him. “Because unlike you kids, I like to rule out all options.”

Jared snorts into the phone, unable to come up with a good comeback, and more annoyed at that fact than Morgan’s words.

“So you comin’?”

He pushes a hand over his face, wincing with the pressure at his budding bruise then looks right at Jensen, who doesn’t appear to care about either the bruise or the phone call anymore as he’s turned right back around. “Morgan’s going to Union,” Jared calls to him. Jensen tilts his head and stretches his neck in return. “You good to go?” Jensen drops his head to focus on something at his desk and Jared calls out, “Hey, you wanna go?” After a few moments, he complains, “Jen-”

“Yeah, fine,” Jensen replies moodily without moving.

“We’ll see you fifteen,” Jared says into the phone.

“And you can bring some coffee while you’re at it,” Morgan suggests. “Two creams and a sugar.”

Jared can hear the smile there, and replies, “You can eat me,” before hanging up.




Morgan is grinning underneath his graying beard when Jensen hands over a large coffee. “I see you’re not so incapable of following instructions.”

“Hope you’re happy with yourself,” Jared grumbles at Jensen as he surveys the outdoor pavilion of Union Station, running along the river between Adams and Jackson streets. It’s not as crowded as early mornings or the evening rush, but still has some pedestrians milling around. “He’ll expect you to do it every time.”

“What happened to you?” Morgan asks sharply, eyes right on Jared’s cheek.

“Fell down the stairs.”

With a glare, he replies, “That ain’t funny to a Violent Crimes Detective.”

“What’re you working with?” Jensen asks, cutting Jared off from any sort of comeback.

“To be honest, not a whole lot,” Morgan says with a grimace. He surveys the crowd as he walks north, crossing Adams and walking in front of the CDW building with Jared and Jensen following. Morgan looks up at the mid-rise office building and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Some people in Gina’s office said she’d complained about someone hanging around out here and giving her trouble. Figured we’d see if there’s anyone here.”

“Yeah, but,” Jared starts with an awkward laugh. “If it’s our guy, he wouldn’t exactly have a reason to hang around here anymore.”

Jensen flashes him a look then one at Morgan, and it’s flat like all the other ones have been so far this morning, but it’s not angry. Jared has to wonder if Jensen’s planning to finish this investigation without sharing another word.

“It’s just a thought, alright?” Morgan complains then motions between them. “Maybe you do shit differently, but I look at possibilities.”

Jared doesn’t have any reply that wouldn’t involve drawing attention from the thin crowd passing them so he just tilts his head in offense. It’s Jensen who steps up and pats at Jared’s shoulder as he moves closer to Morgan. “You got a description or something we can look for?”

“Yeah,” Morgan says, shifting focus to Jensen. “Six foot or so, medium build, blonde hair.”

Jensen’s nodding then looking across the plaza but Jared catches how Morgan’s staring at Jensen, assessing even. And now Jared’s assessing Morgan and that long gaze on his partner.

“Split up?” Jensen suggests. “I’ll go this way and we round back up in a lap or two?”

The way Morgan grins forces a chill down Jared’s back. “That sounds great. Real team player.”

Jared moves to Morgan and first takes his time to think over his words but then he has to follow Morgan’s eyes that watch Jensen walk away. “What’s your deal?” Jared asks, barely containing his attitude.

“Keeping all my options open.”

“You think he has something to do with it?”

“That really a question?” Morgan smirked, barely looking at him. “I’m curious, he got an alibi for the mornings of the murders?”

Jared’s eyes narrow, instantly recalling that Jensen had been gone in the morning both times.

“And what’s his story for how he knows both the victims?”

“He grew up with them,” Jared says tightly, crossing his arms and widening his stance. Even when he has to question Jensen’s involvement, he’s not about to let someone else step in and make Jensen a suspect without due process.

“Yeah, funny that.”

“What?” Jared asks, eyes tight on Morgan to catch every expression.

“The families are all Gold Coast, corporate and public service types. The Ackles aren’t exactly much more than help, right?”

He does his best to not overreact. He knows Jensen didn’t grow up with money, and he’s generally spoken of his mother working for the Prices, leading to him knowing the family. But it wasn’t ever a big conversation considering everything else they’ve had to do deal with.

“Yeah, that’s how he knows the Alderman,” Jared says lightly, trying to deflect Morgan’s intentions to rile him up.

“Right. And Sophia, too.”

“Yeah, and your point?” Jared asks, intent on glaring at Morgan.

Morgan leans to his right, keeping his eye on Jensen then mumbles, “The Murrays are top dogs at CDW.”

On a reflex, Jared looks up at the building. “And?”

“They run the whole business from up top.” Morgan finally looks at Jared and nods up the building. “Why do you think Gina kept the last name even when they’ve been divorced for a few years?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Why?”

“Maybe she wanted to stick with the money and all that the name gives? And maybe she’d offer a childhood friend, one who’s in law enforcement, to help with that? But then he gets greedy?”

Jared’s mind spins, remembering all the deposits, and tries to lock all these pieces of information together, keep them there to later think over. After a few moments, he sees Jensen coming back into view and it reminds him of all the other things he has to sort out: Jensen’s involvement, that picture, Morgan’s suspicion. Hell, his own suspicions have been getting him into trouble.

As if making up for that and, again, protecting Jensen, Jared puts on a smart look and tone when he regards Morgan. “That sounds like a real interesting lead. Why don’t we follow the money and stop worrying about how my partner grew up like a pool boy?”

“Aren’t you interested to know how he’s so involved?”

Jared flinches with the thought that yeah, he so does, but he doesn’t want Morgan to be part of that digging. Even with their relationship currently failing, Jared can’t help but continue to defend and protect Jensen.

Morgan is waiting on Jared’s answer but he doesn’t have one for him. Just then, Jensen’s close enough to nod in their direction and Jared can’t take his eyes off Jensen: he looks tired, stressed, tight, closed off. But he also looks like he’s trying to not look it at all, with the way his eyes keep running between Morgan and Jared.

“Aren’t you?” Morgan repeats, and Jared has to come up with something before his silence says more than he can.

Jensen looks right at Jared and something in his eyes tells Jared he knows there’s nothing good in this conversation. Jensen opens his mouth to talk when someone bumps into him. It isn’t a terribly rough hit, but he’s distracted long enough that Jared can take an easy breath and step away from Morgan, refusing to answer the question.

“You see anyone?” Jared asks, even while both he and Jensen stare at the guy walking away.

Then something flickers in him, because the guy was just over six foot, blond hair, medium build.

Jensen’s still turned towards the blond walking away but he readjusts his jacket and tie from the bump. “Lotta guys fitting that description around here.”

Jared just stares at Jensen, thinking, yeah, you but then reels at the fact that Jensen is speaking to him.

“He actually think we’ll just find the guy standing around, waiting to be interrogated?” Jensen asks quietly, still sounding annoyed and tired.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jared returns oddly, unsure how to deal with Morgan trying so hard to plant seeds, and also how much Jensen is saying compared to the last twenty-four hours.

Jensen looks up to Jared, eyes steady for a few moments, but not saying more until he looks over to Morgan and nods with a tight smile. “When you get something more concrete, give us a call.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rise and he grins. “I surely will.” As Jensen steps away, he keeps looking for Jared to follow but Jared takes a few seconds to just stare at Morgan, who’s grinning right back. Then he shoots out, “Padalecki? Be more careful on the steps.”




Despite Jensen’s moments at Union, there’s no talking for the rest of the day. As they rake over more paperwork and electronic files, they’re mostly silent, though Jared does attempt to raise questions based on things Morgan had mentioned.

When he asks about Gina Murray’s ex-husband and intention on keeping her last name, Jensen shrugs and grumbles affirmatives or confusion, still intent on his own research. Once in a while, Jared mentions items he’s uncovered – such as Gina’s mass deposits in her savings account matching withdrawals from John’s – but Jensen simply nods without looking at him.

“We should talk to John,” Jared says low, distracted with how nearly a dozen transactions match to the penny. He hears Jensen’s loud inhale and looks over. “What?”

Jensen remains quiet but he twists at the waist and his eyes hit Jared’s shoulder, resolutely avoiding his face.

He’s close to joking Lassie, did Timmy fall down the well again?, but he knows Jensen’s irritation would just ramp right up. Instead, he imagines having the actual conversation, pre-fight, pre-case, and in the end he says, “Yeah, Morgan already talked to him. But you think he knows or asked about the bank accounts?”

There’s a quick flick of Jensen’s eyes near his face and he knows Jensen’s fighting himself to speak and actually have this conversation.

Right when his mouth opens, Officer Harris strolls up, handing over an evidence box and a few files. She smiles sweetly and nods to Jensen, who spins his chair in the space between their desks to look at her and the box she sets on Jared’s desk. “Morgan from the 21st sent this over,” she says, “Navens asked me to bring it on up.” When she gets a good look at Jared, she sucks in a breath. “What happened to you?”

“Walked into a door.” Then he moves on with an easy smile. “Julie’s down in the booth? Where’s Lon? Ain’t seen that girl in ages.”

“Still on the graveyard shift,” Harris replies with a twist of her mouth and her eyes won’t leave the mark on his face. “I can send her your regards.”

Jared takes a second to look at Jensen, who’s watching him but then Jensen turns to Harris when Jared catches him. “Nah, just curious.”

“She’ll be out tonight. You can bother her all you want then.” With Jared’s odd look, she continues, “Misha’s anniversary. Fifteen years on the force.”

He smiles to cover up his forgetting the night out he had long-ago promised to be a part of. It’s been a little while since they all socialized. “Yeah, okay. Tonight it is.”

Harris taps the edge of Jared’s desk then looks at Jensen with his desk still turned away at a 90-degree angle. “What’s up here?”

“Just a little tai chi,” Jared smirks.

“It’s feng shui,” Jensen replies flatly with barely a glance at Jared.

Harris smiles at them both. “You guys’re coming tonight, right? Misha doesn’t take kindly to cancellations. I think he’s already planning to work a little Nair and Lysol into the bathrooms.”

“That don’t sound half bad,” Jared chuckles.

“To the men’s rooms.” Jared gives an odd look and Harris adds, “It’s Misha. It’s always bad and never what you expect.”

“He once traded my toothpaste for foot cream,” Jensen grumbles, shifting back to his desk.

She smiles at him then rubs a hand over his shoulder. “And he loves you for not reporting him for the snake in the car, too.” Jensen chuckles and rubs over his brow. She squeezes his shoulder, and Jared can’t not watch, not quite liking the exchange for a second even when he knows they’re just friendly. “But tonight, yeah?” she asks with a look to them both.

Jensen glances over his shoulder but it’s more a gesture than an actual look for Jared. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Hours later, when Jared’s wrapping things up and decides to head home for a shower and change, he pauses in pulling his suit jacket on, watching the curve of Jensen’s back as he’s still arched over his desk and combing through more of Gina Murray’s electronic past.

He’s sure to be disappointed in the response, but he still asks, “You wanna head over there together? Grab some dinner first?”

There’s a long moment before Jensen shakes his head and continues scrolling down the screen.

Jared sucks in his lower lip, biting then flicking it out with a pop. “’Kay. I’ll see ya there.”

Jensen’s hand comes up but it doesn’t wave; it holds his head up with the elbow on his desk.




Jared spends the first hour at the bar watching Jensen talk, joke, and laugh. Basically, doing all the things he hasn’t done with Jared in two days, things he’s adamantly not doing.

In between his glances to Jensen at the long line of tables, surrounded by Harris, Collins, Hodges, Kane, and a few others, Jared does his best to keep up other conversations. He catches up with Tal, who’s spent the last month working nights and takes the time to complain about the lack of excitement from Crawford and Nichols, other beat cops who assist in major investigations. And he makes time for sociology with Collins’ wife, playfully arguing with her over expert theories and a few she’s concocted on her own.

But, he’s mostly watching Jensen light up with everyone around him. A few times, Jensen looks his way, keeps a bit of sparkle in his eyes, but his mouth usually falls into a line before he goes back to his conversation. It kills Jared to see it, especially given how easy they’ve always been, and how Jensen won’t give him a second to even discuss what’s going on with them and the case.

Jared doesn’t deny Vicki the honor of doing a shot together. Nor does he ignore Tal’s not-so-subtle push of her empty bottle towards him and he buys the next round. He’s not drunk, but he has enough to feel loose and consider talking to Jensen, to push the point. It’s obvious that Jensen, too, is drinking, relaxing from all they’ve been shouldering this week.

“You boys have a lover’s spat?” Tal smirks up at him.

“Fifth person to ask me that,” Jared returns with a tip of his beer. “You’re not as original as you think.”

“And what’d you tell the other four?”

“That we didn’t. And we’re fine.”

She hums and looks around him to find Jensen looking more than fine; he’s fully engaged in a laughter-filled conversation with Harris burying her head at his shoulder as she breaks out in hysterics.

“See?” Jared says with a fake smile. “He’s perfectly okay.”

She takes a moment to consider him then says, “Yeah, but you look like shit.”

“What? These are totally clean clothes.” She chuckles and he adds on, “And I even showered before I came. C’mon, Lon, I look pretty damned good.”

“Okay, this,” she laughs, gesturing from his neck down to his waist. “This is fine, more than fine. You know that because you’ve got that big gorilla head and you know people think you’re pretty to look at. But that?” she says, motioning at his face. “Not so great.”

He chuckles with her because it’s apparent their last round is contributing to her drunken rambling. But he stalls when she asks, “Is it because Jensen’s all wrapped up in something?”

“Wrapped up in what?” he says, trying like hell to keep his tone level.

“I dunno, but he comes down a lot to check out records. Or not check out. Sometimes he just sits there on the floor while going through evidence cases.”

Jared can’t come up with an answer to that, other than tough case, but he’d tried that with Beaver earlier that morning and the Lieutenant had just replied had a lotta tough cases before.

“World just seems off-kilter when you two ain’t BFF all over the place, ya know?”

He cracks a smile, forced along with a head nod, and he can’t care when she turns to Hodge to discuss another round.

His mind won’t stop spinning at everything with their case. That Jensen knows everyone, he’s got a finger in all the evidence whenever Jared’s not around him, he’s pushing Jared away, and there’s the pesky part of Jared’s brain that’s trying to ignore the fact that the mornings of these two murders, Jared’s woken up to an empty bed that Jensen does little to explain.

Jared’s convinced they need to talk, and tonight. It’s stupid to force it, but he doesn’t want it to go any longer, and he hopes Jensen will be more open to a conversation after the handful of drinks he’s had. Though Jared considers all the possible reactions Jensen could have to Jared even saying his name in opening, and wastes nearly an hour just studying his partner.

Suddenly, the table stills when Jensen freezes, eyes locked just beyond Jared, and he mouths a distinct, “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

Jared turns and sees Morgan ordering a drink just five feet away, and when the detective faces him, a grin is firmly in place.

“What’re you doing?” Jared asks.

Morgan raises his pint. “It’s a bar. I ordered a drink.”

“Here, huh?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip. “It’s a cop bar, kid. Gimme a break.”

Jared refuses to do such a thing, especially when Morgan’s eyes lock onto Jensen and he moves that way. He locks a hand around Morgan’s bicep. “You walk over there, it’s the last thing you do before getting tossed outta here.”

“Quite the temper, huh? And here I thought Jensen was the angry one. Your face is looking better in this light, by the way.” Jared’s fingers flex around the arm and Morgan twists it but Jared won’t let go. Morgan lifts an eyebrow.

“What’re you up to?” Jensen asks from Jared’s side. “Besides ruining our friend’s party?”

“Just checking on your partner’s injuries. Seeing if he needs to file a report,” Morgan says with a small smile, obviously goading them both.

Jensen looks tense, more so than when dealing with Jared lately, which would seem impossible, Jared thinks. But it’s there, and Jared puts a hand at Jensen’s chest, carefully moving him away with a look. Because he’s seen this from Jensen before and, while it’s usually on a hard case with a harder suspect, it’s never pretty.

“I’m gonna go drink with my buddies there,” Morgan says, motioning his glass behind him where Jared and Jensen can see a few other guys – cops, likely, given their firm stares and rigid stances. “But if something comes up, be sure to let me know.”

As soon as Morgan’s out of earshot, Jensen grumbles, “God, I hate that dick.”

“Funny, after you bringin’ him coffee this morning,” Jared says before thinking twice on it.

Jensen pushes at him; it’s not hard or anything as bad as the punch two days ago, but it’s enough to mean something.

Jared tugs at the back of Jensen’s shirt before he gets too far then raises his hands in peace when Jensen throws him an ugly look. “Just … as warning? He’s thinking worse of you than I am right now, okay?”

“What’s that mean?”

“He’s asking questions,” Jared says, low and moving closer to keep it quiet between them. “And he’s trying to get under my skin and make me think more.” Jensen rolls his eyes and huffs, turning away but not leaving. Jared reaches to grab Jensen’s arm for attention but then lightens up and just holds his shoulder. He’s thankful when Jensen doesn’t shrug away from it, and he tries to speak lightly. “I’m not trying to throw you under the bus. But he might. You tell me what’s going on and I can be on your side.”

“Noted,” he mumbles, and moves back to the table.

The next chunk of time is spent much like past few hours were, Jared watching Jensen talk to everyone in their group. But his mind is particularly stuck on how Harris slides closer to Jensen and he seems to go right with it, leaning in, smirking and making low jokes that no one else can hear but always make her laugh and smile right back. A time or two he winks at her, sending her into a blush, and Jared’s lungs almost don’t work.

It’s near closing time when Harris packs up her purse, finishes her drink, says something that makes Jensen’s eyebrow rise, and leaves the table. Jensen’s eyes follow her but Jared’s stay with Jensen. Then Jared and Jensen are looking at each other, and Jensen takes a long moment of just watching before polishing off his drink and standing. He doesn’t follow Harris out, and he doesn’t approach Jared; he moves to the other end of the bar to order another drink from the girl behind the counter.

Jared can see the bartender saying no, and then another patron next to Jensen argues with her for one, too. The guy gets angry, trying to reach over the bar, and Jensen stretches to keep the guy back.

In seconds, there’s shoving and missed punches, and Jared’s pushing people out of the way to get in there, but fails. Jensen’s quick with the defense and punches the guy a few times, but he’s no match for the weight this guy’s bringing, and the bulk of the other patron forces Jensen away before landing a few hits to Jensen’s face.

No one else is getting in, not any of their friends or staff, mostly because of the solid crowd forming around them to gawk at the fight. After throwing some people away and calling out, “Police, out of the way!” Jared finally breaks through, looping an arm around Jensen’s neck and another at his waist to tug him away.

Jensen’s wrestling against him, but Jared’s close to his ear, shouting, “Hey, it’s me, it’s okay,” and Jensen goes easy with him, all the way out the bar and onto the sidewalk.

“Damnit!” Jensen shouts with a hand against his face, and bends at the waist.

Jared comes up next to him, with a hand at his back and one reaching for the hand on his face, but Jensen smacks it away angrily and Jared loses it right there. “Would you fucking stop and let me help you?”

He shoves at Jensen’s shoulder to get him upright and assess the damage to his face: he’s got blood at his mouth and above his eye, and despite how his lips are turned into a sneer, his eyes are dazed. “You’re such an asshole!” Jared barks at him but keeps inspecting the cuts. “I fucking saved you in there and you’re still pushing me away.”

The anger in Jensen falls away and he breathes heavy while Jared wipes some blood away with his thumb. “Just stop,” Jensen croaks.

“Fuck you, I’m not!” There’s a roll of Jensen’s eyes, and Jared goes on, still loud. “You’re no people person. You’re an asshole, and I can’t believe I even deal with you or care about you. Because you obviously don’t.”

When bodies spill out of the bar, especially with off-duty officers-cum-security eying them, Jensen tugs Jared’s arm to leave. He goes rather willingly just to avoid more trouble.




Jensen’s been sniffing and wiping at his nose, his mouth, his eye, clearing away blood that he just wipes across his palm. In the kitchen, Jared turns on the sink and nods at it so Jensen will clean his hands, and then Jared wets a clean dishtowel and gets to working on Jensen’s face.

“Ow,” Jensen says rather pathetically as Jared tries to clear away the just-drying blood.

“Shut up,” Jared grumbles and keeps going, only letting up a little pressure.

Jensen sighs then shifts to lean against the counter, and when Jared glares at him, he lifts his head with a hand between them. “Go on.”

Jared moves close and wipes at his brow, but goes easy, because while the cut isn’t particularly deep, it’s rather long and ugly.

“Wasn’t my fault,” Jensen sighs. Jared pauses for a second before clearing blood from Jensen’s cheek. “Just helping the bartender and the guy started in on me.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Jared returns, still focused on Jensen’s injuries.

It’s quiet beyond their labored breathing as Jared works. Then Jensen murmurs, “I do care.”

Jensen’s looking right at him. But Jared can’t take it, and is unsure what to say because he’s still beyond pissed that he almost hates himself for standing here and helping Jensen after the last two days of being frozen out. “No, you don’t,” he mumbles back.

“Yeah. I do.”

He says, “Okay,” but it’s obvious he doesn’t mean it. Instead of going further with the conversation, he drops the towel on the counter. “You look awful.” After another moment, he steps away to leave.

Jensen grabs his wrist, has to pull hard to bring him back, and Jared rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Fuck you, no,” he says, and it’s actually got a bite of emotion behind it that’s not angry.

There’s a bubble of blood reforming at Jensen’s brow, and despite his thoughts on it, Jared reaches up, thumbs it away, and wipes it on the towel. “This is so fucked.”

“I know them, that’s it. I’m not part of anything else.”

Jared looks right at him, not knowing what else to do, not even with Jensen finally saying the words.

“Of all people, you’re the one that was suspecting me of something, and you wouldn’t let it go when I kept saying so.”

“You weren’t exactly coming right out,” Jared argues, a little shocked by his own anger coming back to the surface, like when they first left the bar. “I wanted you to say this the first time it came up.”

Jensen rubs at his mouth, wincing when he hits the wound at the corner, and it opens back up. He grabs the towel and dabs, then looks at the bloodied towel and chucks it into the sink. “How do you think it felt that you thought I would be a part of this?”

“How do you think I felt that it was looking that way?”

His eyes narrow, but more in pain than accusation. “You really thought I could’ve done that? Hurt someone? Kill someone?”

“It’s just,” Jared sighs and looks up to the ceiling before letting it all out. “You went after that kid so fast and cornered him. Then you know everyone involved but weren’t admitting it upfront, and the picture comes out. And,” he sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “You start all this shit between us and push me away. You never had an explanation for not being accounted for. How could it not make me think you were hiding something.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen murmurs, eyes just as soft as his voice.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes out, unable to say more at the moment.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jared can’t look at the pain in Jensen’s eyes, focusing instead on the cabinet knob just beside Jensen’s head. “I don’t know what to do,” he says with quiet emotion.

“Well, neither do I.”

“Morgan really thinks I’ve got something to do with it?”

Jared pushes the heel of his hand against his eye. “He thinks something.”

Jensen sighs and mumbles, “Shit,” before slumping against the counter, hands hanging low.

“You just,” Jared says, but cuts himself off.

“What?” When Jared won’t speak or look at him, Jensen stands up and pushes on, “No, c’mon. Say it. Whatever it is, I deserve it.”

He bites his lip and catches his breath, then finally just says it. “I hate you so much right now for all this. You do all this bullshit, and even beyond the case. The fucked up shit between us that you’re pulling. I’m trying so hard to keep it together when you’re just trying to walk away.”

Jensen shakes his head and murmurs, “I’m not walking away.” Jared huffs and Jensen reaches for his shirt, pulling him close but not so much that Jared has to force himself away. “I’m not, okay? But you were … Jared, for all that we are, partners, this, everything … you were honestly asking me if I did something. I was pissed as hell at you for that.”

“And I’m pissed as hell that you didn’t say it.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“Okay, and thank you for that,” Jared huffs then tries to steady his voice. “Seriously, thank you for finally saying it. But I can’t just step back into everything and pretend you weren’t doing all you could to stay away from me instead of work this shit out.”

“So, what now?”

Jared shrugs a little and stretches his neck, trying to ease away some tension. “I don’t know. Finish the case? Get Morgan off your back?”

“I mean us.”

Rubbing his hands over his face, he mumbles, “I don’t know.”

Looking resigned, Jensen glances across the kitchen. “The other night,” he says low, voice getting scratchy with fatigue. “When I said I didn’t want both, be this and be partners, it’s not that I don’t wanna be with you. I just wish it were easier.”

“It’s not.”

Jensen nods and looks even worse than any feeling he’s shown in this conversation thus far. “Yeah.” After a few moments, he says, “I’m not good at compartmentalizing.”

“I know,” Jared replies, because he really does, and it was never more obvious than this week. “I should go,” he says suddenly.

“No, it’s late. You should stay,” Jensen tries, then adds, “Or you wanna crash on the couch?”

“Yeah,” he says, because he kind of does, but his head is also starting to pound from everything they’ve gone over. “I have to go home, though.”

“Alright, yeah.”

Before more can be said, Jared gets to the front door, Jensen just behind him. He looks back for a moment then forces himself to walk out.