NC-17 | In This Hell of a Season 1/2

[dugindeep]

Jared hits snooze four, five times, ignoring his alarm as much as he can, but it’s the persistent knocking at his front door that finally drags him from bed. He grabs his cell on the way up, wiping sleep from his eyes, trying to read the unread texts, and stumbling down the hallway all at once. When he opens the front door, he’s a mess and knows it, and he doesn’t really care.

Until he looks up to Jensen, showered, clean-shaven, sharply dressed in a suit and tie. Jensen’s put together and ready for work. Jared is … not.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Jensen says with a smirk. Then his eyes slowly travel down Jared’s body, and that’s when Jared feels even more ridiculous. “What’s up?”

He’s in just boxer briefs thanks to the way his air conditioning unit cut out in the middle of their last case, and with as little time he’s been spending at home lately, he can’t bother to care too much. Sleeping near-nude is better than sweating through everything he owns.

To make matters worse, he can see Jensen’s eyes flick further down, and when Jared glances with him, he notices that he’s sporting morning wood.

Jared hides a bit behind the door, trying like hell to not be obvious about it.

Jensen clears his throat, looks wholly uncomfortable, and slips his hands into his pants pockets as he shifts to the side to stare down the hallway. “How much time you need? I can come back.”

“Not much,” Jared mumbles, earnestly trying to bypass the awkwardness. And embarrassment. This moment does not help anything, given how tense things have been between them for weeks now. Months, really. Or hell, a year or so.

But Jared’s a professional, and he tells himself that as he moves out of the doorway and motions Jensen inside as if there’s nothing wrong at the moment. “You want coffee?”

“Had it on the way in, thanks,” Jensen replies, and he sounds surprisingly level. It’s a slow stroll through Jared’s front room, and Jared realizes for all that they’re in each other’s back pockets, working all hours of the day and night, picking one another up at their respective apartments, they’ve never set foot inside the other’s homes. “Nice place,” Jensen murmurs. “Always wondered what goes on up in Printer’s Row. Obviously not air conditioning.”

Jared nods with a smile and moves into the kitchen, starting up the coffee pot. He needs a few cups himself, and once it’s brewing, Jensen is likely to get on board. “Went out last week, but hasn’t been replaced yet.”

“Gotta love that,” Jensen says dryly.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Just a small price to pay for the location.”

“Neighborhood doesn’t get noisy in the mornings? When the print shops start up?”

He chuckles as he sets out two coffee mugs and makes one last check that the pot’s beginning to brew. “You think I’m here much in the morning?”

When he steps into the living room, Jensen is back to staring, eyes roaming a bit over Jared’s bare shoulders and stomach before resolutely moving back up to his neck.

“I’m always with you,” Jared adds on dumbly. Then he gets lost in a tense silence, one that’s been more prevalent lately.

“Yeah, like gum on my shoe,” Jensen replies quickly. His smile quirks as he turns to take in more of Jared’s apartment.

Jared breathes easily, thankful for Jensen redirecting his attention. As Jared passes him on his way out of the kitchen, he pats Jensen’s shoulder then playfully shoves him away. “I should be just a couple minutes.”

“Is that really all you need?”

The play is still there in Jensen’s voice and when Jared glances back from halfway down the hall, Jensen’s seeming to be halfway interested … in something about him, and it makes Jared’s stomach burn. He really wishes there was a way to nip this all in the bud, but that’s highly unlikely. For all that Jensen’s charming and whip smart, he’s incredibly private about all else in his life. They’ve been partners for two years now and Jared still can’t get a great read on him. Isn’t that just sad? Considering it’s Jared’s job to figure out what people aren’t saying up front, it really fucking sucks.

“Such a waste,” Jensen adds on with one quick, warm look before he moves to the couch.

This isn’t the first time for double entendres, but it’s the first time for them to be tossed around Jared’s apartment while he’s in a serious state of undress.

“Don’t take too long,” Jensen says, voice back to something resembling work. “We’ve got a body that won’t be warm for much longer.”

“It’s 150 degrees out there,” Jared calls from his bathroom as he turns on the shower. There’s not much time for the regular morning routine, but he could use a quick, cold rinse, if the dampness along his hairline and back is anything to believe.

“You’re so overdramatic,” Jensen yells back, though it’s just barely heard over the shower.

“How the hell you gonna function in that suit?” Jared shouts as he quickly scrubs down with what’s left of his bar of soap. “When you start bitching about polyester suffocating you, you’ll get no sympathy from me.”

“It ain’t polyester, you savage.”

Jared starts at the sound of Jensen’s voice clear and close. Through the thin, white shower curtain, he can make out the outline of Jensen at the doorway to the bathroom and he shivers in a way that he can’t blame on the cold shower. Jared turns to face the stream, letting the freezing water run down the front of his body and relishing the instant relief over his belly and down, cooling all parts of him that are heating up with the thought of Jensen standing so near while he’s fully naked. While he’s in the shower and all slicked up.

He pushes hair of his face and grabs tight, groaning at the image of them in here, together.

It’s not the first time Jared’s imagined it.

“You okay?” Jensen asks slowly.

It is, however, the first time that he has to tamper it down, that he can’t expand on the thoughts that he regularly has about Jensen, all because Jensen is still right there.

Jared shuts off the water and clears his throat, running hands over his hair to squeeze out the excess water. “Yeah. Can you pass me the towel there?”

There’s shuffling, a few little hmm noises, and Jensen snorts. “You don’t have a single clean towel in here.”

“There’s gotta be one,” Jared insists as he peeks from behind the shower curtain. “That one, there,” he says, pointing at one on the sink.

Jensen raises an eyebrow as he, too, points at a balled up piece of terrycloth.

Jared chuckles then reaches forward with his fingers wiggling. “You gonna help me out or what, man?”

A smile flickers over Jensen’s face as he raises both eyebrows and grabs the towel. He snaps it near Jared’s face. “How much help you need?” he taunts while laughing. “Little Jared can’t dry himself off?”

“I ain’t so little,” he taunts.

Jensen folds the towel over his crossed arms. “Really now?”

Jared grins, but still whines. “Dude, c’mon. Gimme the fucking towel.”

“Or else?” Jensen grins right back, practically holding the towel hostage.

It’s a bit of a standoff with Jared trying like hell to not smile, but failing so badly when he can’t resist Jensen’s playful look.

Finally, Jared whips the curtain open and steps up to Jensen as if there’s no issue that he’s ass naked and soaking wet. He yanks the towel from Jensen’s hands, taking full advantage of the way Jensen stalls and focuses on Jared’s closeness, and wraps it around his waist.

“That wasn’t so hard was it,” Jared complains as he turns to the mirror and finger-combs through his hair.

Jensen turns away, but Jared can see in the mirror that on Jensen’s way out of the room, he takes one quick look at Jared, eyes never going higher than his waist.





Jared and Jensen stroll across the lawn off of Columbus Drive, doing their best to avoid the crowd of workers who are doing anything but working. The park is littered beyond belief from a weekend music festival, but the Chicago Park District crew is gathered around the ring of yellow police tape that blocks off the crime scene instead.

Jensen pulls up on the tape, just a foot or two, but it gives Jared room to slip under with Jensen following.

“What d’we got?” Jared asks as they approach Medical Examiner Samantha Ferris crouching over a male body. Immediately, Jared logs the overweight victim as mid-30s, Hispanic, married or divorced given the tan line on his left ring finger, and that he must be part of the clean-up crew with a bandana across his forehead, worn-down Dickies pants, and construction boots.

“Not a whole heck of a lot,” Ferris replies without looking up. She turns the victim’s hand over and inspects the stretch of tan skin then checks the other arm. She breathes upwards, air flicking the hair falling loose from her ponytail, then gives Jared a tired look. “It’s damned hot out here.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad murder don’t take a vacation,” Jensen says with a smirk as he crouches near the foot of the body.

“I’m not so sure it’s murder yet,” she says strangely, and Jared wants to groan.

These days, it’s not uncommon for hapless accidents to look like gruesome murders and vice versa. Jared sometimes feels like they spend more time debunking murder than actually tracking down criminals.

“Then why’re we here?” Jared asks.

“Because I thought it’d be good for us to share the heat,” she replies, going back to assessing the victim’s hands. “Misery loves company and all that.”

“When Jared’s miserable I usually leave him at home,” Jensen jokes.

When Jared looks at him, the fucker winks at him and of course, as Jared can’t ever stop looking at Jensen, he almost reads more into it. Almost.

“So, we got a case or what then?” Jared asks. “Because if not, then I’m more than happy to leave you miserable nut jobs out here in the heat.”

Jensen snorts. “Where you gonna go? Back to that sauna of an apartment?”

“I’ve got places I can go,” Jared fires back. Then he feels ridiculous for arguing the point, because it’s not like he’d actually leave. He and Jensen would head back to the station and pick up threads on someone else’s case or clear paperwork. On the other hand, maybe they should find something better to do with their time; he really fucking hates paperwork.

“It’s so cute how much you two are in love,” Ferris mumbles.

Jared frowns at that, wondering if it’s obvious that he maybe looks at Jensen a little too often and for a bit too long. Then he wonders if there’s something from Jensen’s side as well.

“Yeah, he’d make a great wife,” Jensen says. Jared’s about to reply, but Jensen motions at the body and shrugs. “So whose jeans am I staring at?”

“Jesse Aguilera,” Ferris says then rattles off, “Thirty-seven years old, five-foot-nine, 255 pounds. Chicago Park District employee, lived at 43rd and Washtenaw, and apparent victim to a heart attack.”

“Apparent?” Jensen asks.

“His coworkers saw him grab his arm and say he complained of chest pains,” she explains. “And then he dropped and has been out ever since.”

“But you say apparent,” Jared points out.

Ferris leans up to reach the head and slides one eyelid up to show the eyeball with excessively red vessels. “This is a bit extreme for a heart attack, but you never know.”

“Overdose,” Jensen tries.

“Labs will tell,” she says.

“What else you got?” Jared asks as he steps next to her. He leans down to watch her pick under Aguilera’s fingernails with a plastic pick. When she comes up with a mixture of brown and black grime, he frowns. “It’s just dirt, right? From working and all?”

“He’s got abrasions on his left hand and knuckles,” she points out as she bags the pick for evidence.

Jared snorts. “From the fall?”

“Maybe. But they look like they’d started to heal, so I’m tempted to say not.”

“So, semi-recent fight, a day or two back,” Jared says with a shrug.

“How is that related to a heart attack?” Jensen asks skeptically.

“Gimme time, boy,” Ferris scoffs. “Then I’ll tell you.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stands. He smiles when he faces Jared. “You ready to work?”

Jared shrugs, but he’s smiling as well. “If we must.”

From there, Jared and Jensen split to interview the crowd dwelling beyond the yellow tape. Over and over again, Aguilera’s coworkers tell the same story of the man stretching out his left arm, wincing, then tapping his chest without breath before falling to the ground just minutes after they started working.

Jared figures it’s not uncommon with a man Aguilera’s size in this kind of heat.

“Did he have any previous medical conditions, medications, regular doctors’ appointments?” Jared asks one of the bystanders, a Mark Courtland who’s worked with Aguilera for six months.

“What do I look like?” Courtland complains. “His friggin’ wife?”

“No, of course not,” Jared says with a light laugh. “Just figured, you’re out here all hours of the day with the guy, you might’ve talked a bit about a thing or two.”

“Yeah, and that thing or two is usually about the chicks in the tiny shorts and bikinis, ya know?” he says with a nudge at Jared. When Jared fails to reply, Courtland adds, “It’s the one upside to working the summers.”

Jared clears his throat and glances towards the group Jensen’s working and wonders if he’s got any better information coming his way. He grips his notepad and releases it quickly so he doesn’t ruin it with his sweaty palms. “Yeah, alright, so you check out girls and clean the park. Anything else?”

“Happy hour every day or so.”

That makes Jared perk up, thinking of the marks on Aguilera’s hands. “That a regular thing for you guys?”

Courtland shrugs. “Yeah, pretty regular. Cold beer on a hot day is better than water in the desert.”

“How much cold beer?”

The guy laughs like he wants to brag about how much but quickly sobers up, and Jared imagines Courtland suddenly remembers he’s talking to a cop. “We’re responsible drivers.”

“I’m sure,” Jared mutters. “Look, I’m not gonna lecture you on drinking and driving. I’m more interested in your dead buddy and how much he’s putting back at the end of the day. Enough to start fights?”

“Oh, no, never,” Courtland defends instantly and there’s something soft in his voice that begs Jared to believe him. “Jesse’s the happiest-go-luckiest guy I’ve ever met. He’s a pretty happy drunk, and when he’s sober, man, he’s the best guy to have on your side.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Jesse would cut off his leg for anyone. Fix cars, mow lawns, help ya move. I knew the guy for just three weeks when he came over and helped me haul a new dresser up to my third-floor walk-up.”

“So, you know him pretty well then?”

“Fairly, sure,” Courtland agrees.

“He have any other vices besides the drinking?”

Courtland eyes Jared sharply then barks out, “Like what?”

Jared holds in his sigh, looking up at the sun beating down on him, and wiping some sweat from his temple with the cuff of his suit jacket. He’s about fry out here, sun or not, so he tries to sound a little playful to ease the accusation. “Maybe trouble with some other friends or people in his neighborhood?”

“What’re you thinking, huh?” he asks, sounding haughty and offended on his deceased coworker’s behalf. “Jesse is a good guy. Just ‘cause he lived in a shit neighborhood doesn’t mean he’s shit, too. He was laid off from his fancy Downtown job and has been doing this just to put bread on the table, and you’re gonna accuse the man of – ”

“Alright, okay,” Jared says carefully, hands up between them. “I’m just asking, okay?”

“He had a heart attack, why the hell does all this other shit matter?”

“We’re the police. We have to ask the tough questions.”

Courtland sighs like he’s tired and has run out of steam. He waves his hand at Jared as he turns away. “Man, ask someone else. I ain’t got shit to say.”

When Jared and Jensen meet back up and head back to the car, Jared asks, “Hopefully you got something good? All I seemed to do was walk all over a dead guy’s grave.”

“Nothing major,” Jensen says with a shrug. “He was a decent guy, lending a helping hand all the time, his kids and wife at home –”

“Kids and wife?” Jared asks quickly. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jared glances around, mindful of the crowds gathered on the edge of the crime scene, and he waits until they’re inside the sedan to talk. “Mark Courtland sounds like one of his good buddies, and he says they always checked out the,” Jared pauses to check his notes and repeats, “chicks in the tiny shorts and bikinis.”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head as he starts the car up, hot air forced through the vents before the air conditioning can run. It’s blowing hard and stifling, shoving Jared’s hair off his face, and the only good point is that the sweat all over his face, in his hair, and along his neck can dry. Jensen’s still laughing, but Jared’s sure it’s now due to his hair suddenly sprouting wings.

“You don’t think married guys suddenly go all monogamous and celibate now do ya?” Jensen asks.

“No, I’m just saying …” Jared drifts off when he realizes he has no concrete point here. In their job, they see plenty of cheating and backstabbing between husbands and wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, crushes, whatever. Love can make people do crazy things, or can be lost entirely too soon. “If he’s such a good guy, why’s he looking?”

“Like you never look? Never check out a girl in a bar or just walking down the street?”

Jared’s ready to say no, but that’s more because they’re not his type and he spends most of his time checking Jensen out.

Even so, he’s never gotten an honest answer on Jensen’s preference, though his occasional wayward glances seem to say he returns Jared’s feelings. Based on that Jared challenges right back, “When’s the last time you checked some girl out? Went after her and took her home?” Instead of replying, Jensen lets out a short laugh, and Jared tries another avenue. “Maybe a guy?” he asks flatly, but carefully watches Jensen’s expression.

Jensen narrows his eyes before putting on a smile that’s likely too forced, then puts the car in gear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And damn, if that ain’t the burning question.





As soon as Jensen pulls the sedan into a parking spot a few doors down from Aguilera’s home, Jared notices the few gatherings of neighbors on various front steps are quieting up and staring. Their watchful attention remains on Jared and Jensen as they take the stairway up to the raised front porch and Jensen knocks.

Jared pushes his damp hair off his forehead and takes in the neighborhood as they wait for someone to answer the door. Many of the homes have shingling for siding, and most are worn down without proper fixes. He then notices that a few of the neighbors scatter from their groups, heading back inside or moving further away to continue whispering to one another.

It’s par for the course, though perhaps worse than normal. Jared hopes these people will talk when if the need arises.

The door slowly slides open and they can barely see a dark head above the lower frame of the screen door. Jared steps closer and realizes it’s a young girl, 10 at least, maybe 12, and he immediately drops his voice, soft and caring. “Hi there. Is your mama home?”

When the girl looks up, her eyes are rimmed red and the end of her nose blotchy. Before Jared can ask if she’s okay, another woman, presumably her mother or aunt given her young looks, rushes to the door and tugs the little one away. “Lo siento,” she says immediately, then turns behind her to tell the girl, “Regresate a la cama” When she turns to the door again, she’s frowning and obviously frazzled. “Lo siento, agentes.”

“De nada,” Jensen says lightly. “Perdon, pero es usted Sofia Aguilera?”

“Si, si” she replies softly while placing her hand over her heart. “¿Qué pasa?”

Jensen glances at Jared, widens his eyes for a second, and Jared shakes his head a little, unsure why Jensen’s not continuing on. Jensen glances back over his shoulder and mumbles, “I’m blanking.”

Jared rolls his eyes and snorts before moving closer to the screen. He’s not great at this, either, but he’ll try and shamelessly fail. “Senora, esposo … es Jesse?”

Here she pauses and looks between Jared and Jensen each for a strange amount of time until she replies. “Yes, Jesse.”

“Ma’am, por favor, uh … entre?”

“What’d he do?”

“Oh thank God,” Jensen sighs.

Jared does, too, murmuring, “She speaks English.”

“What happened? Did Jesse do something?” she asks quickly with a slight accent.

“Ma’am, can we come in and talk to you?” Jensen asks kindly.

They can see her hand come up to the door handle, but she doesn’t open the screen just yet. “¿Por qué?”

“Mrs. Aguilera,” Jared starts softly. “Your husband died this morning.”

Jared has seen all sorts of responses to this kind of information. A majority of the time it’s instant crying, disbelief and yelling, or quiet shock. Slowly, Sofia glances over her shoulder, tucks dark strands of hair behind her ear when she looks at Jared again, and offers a small smile and nods as she lets them inside.

Jensen and Jared share a look as they enter the small raised ranch. In seconds, the widow is clearing a handful of empty beer bottles from the kitchen table and motioning them to sit on the nearby couch. The furniture is fairly nice considering the state of the outside of the home and this neighborhood. Jared remembers Courtland saying Jesse had been laid off and only started working for the park district six or seven months back.

Sofia sits at the edge of a nearby arm chair, hands loosely clutched in her lap. She has that same awkward smile on her face when she asks, “What happened to Jesse?”

“We think it was a heart attack at work,” Jared says carefully.

“It’s very hot out today.”

“Yes, it is,” he replies slowly. “Mrs. Aguilera, did your husband have a heart condition or other medical conditions?”

Her face is still simply controlled, nothing slipping past to show pain or trouble with the news, and Jensen glances at Jared before he asks his own questions. “Ma’am, was that your daughter who answered the door?”

“Yes, Rosa.”

“Is she feeling well? She looked kinda,” and he motions at his face.

“Oh, yes,” she says quickly, nodding. “She has a cold, but she’s okay. She’ll be better now.”

Jared freezes, feeling his breath catch at that. It’s an odd thing, a cold in this heat, and how quickly she’s responding. Sure, this woman is facing the news that her husband is dead and probably compartmentalizing everything, but the air feels thick even with the air conditioning keeping the room a cool. “Now?”

“Yes, she has medicine, and she’s feeling better. She slept a lot today.”

Jared smiles and nods. “That’s good to hear.”

“Mama,” the little girl says from the hallway, forcing all three adults to look over. “Jesse is gone?”

“Oh, mija,” she coos as she goes to her daughter. She pulls her up into her arms, kisses her cheek, and insists she goes back to bed.

Once they’re left alone again, Jensen asks the question burning in Jared’s brain. “She calls him Jesse?”

“Yes. He is their step-father. Was their step-father,” she corrects quickly.

Jared glances at Jensen at that.

“Their? You have other children?” Jensen goes on as Jared’s eyes comb the wall for other family portraits.

Just as Sofia Aguilera describes her son, a sophomore in high school, Jared notices the school picture framed near the kitchen along with a smattering of other family photos. It takes just a few seconds to realize that the two kids are grinning brightly in pictures with their mother or on their own, but any that also have Jesse Aguilera are toned down.

“Was Jesse a good father?” Jared finds himself asking before he can consider how to best phrase the question. He shrugs off Jensen’s sharp look and adds, “It must’ve been hard for them to have a new dad in their lives.”

“Jesse provided for us,” she replies. “He was a responsible man.” Before anyone can say more, she pops up and claps her hands. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to offer you something to drink. Maybe lemonade? It is so very hot outside.”

Jared takes the opening and nods happily even though Jensen’s eying him strangely. “Yes, we’d both love some.”

Once she’s gone from the room, Jared whispers to Jensen, “The photos on the wall. No one smiles with Jesse in the picture.”

Jensen instantly picks up on it, and once they have their drinks in hand, he smiles charmingly and starts talking. “I know how hard it is to bring a new parent into a family. My parents split when I was real young and both remarried. Always hard on the kids.” He softly laughs. “I know it was for me.”

“Rosa and Chris are good kids.”

Jared nods slowly. “I’m sure they are.”

“Never any trouble,” she insists.

There is no way Jared can shake the quick flare beneath his skin for how this conversation is going down, so he clears his throat and decides to keep going. “You mind my asking what happened to Rosa and Chris’s father?”

Here, she freezes, eyes wide and lips turning down in worry. Jared’s ready to jump onto her silence because it’s the first true emotion she’s shown since they arrived, but then she sadly sighs and finally responds. “He and I, we were very young.” She shakes her head. “It just wasn’t meant to be. High school sweethearts shouldn’t last much past high school.”

“How long were you and Jesse married?” Jared prods.

“Five years.” She glances across the room towards the photos on the wall and softly smiles.

“How did you meet?”

“I was a legal secretary, Jesse was a paralegal. Love in the workplace, you know?”

There’s a small nagging feeling on her saying so, as Jared thinks of him and Jensen, constantly circling but never moving forward. He shoves that feeling down and goes on, hoping to get her to open up more the longer they sit. “And he was laid off recently?”

“I quit once we got married and then he was let go two years ago. It’s been very hard to find new work, so we moved here.” Her eyes flick around the living room, and Jared wonders what their last home was like. Maybe oversized rooms and larger, brighter yards. “Things have been … difficult since then.”

Before they can ask what difficult means, the screen door noisily scrapes open and the front door pops in to show Chris, her son, entering. He’s a bit tall for his age, rail thin with his broad shoulders hunched in like he has no confidence.

The teen’s eyes widen at the sight of Jared and Jensen, suited-up cops on the couch, but what Jared notices immediately are the bruises sweeping under his left eye and across his temple. There are a red few marks across his neck, and if Jared could get a closer, long look, he’s certain he’d see the outline of fingers and a thumb.

Jared instantly imagines the fit of the abrasions on Jesse Aguilera’s hands to Chris’s face, and maybe Rosa and Sofia have a few matching marks as well. His stomach bottoms out at the thought of this kid – both of them, this family – being hit by the step-father.

It’s a flurry of Sofia introducing them, apologizing for her son interrupting their talk, and then an awkward silence when the boy keeps his head down and tries to shuffle closer to his mom.

“You okay there?” Jensen asks the son, and Jared watches for the mom’s reaction.

“Yeah, a fight in school,” Chris mumbles.

It’s the tail end of summer, so Jared asks, “Taking extra credits?”

“No,” the boy replies softly.

“Summer school?” Jensen tries.

Sofia runs a hand over her son’s head and softly smiles. “Chris is very smart. He really likes to study.”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris mumbles. Then his voice gets stronger when he asks, “What’s wrong? Is Rosa okay?”

“Rosa is fine. She’s in bed, still sick. Very sick,” she adds on quickly.

Jared just barely pays attention to Jensen explaining the circumstances; he’s too honed in on Chris’s face tensing with the news of his step-father before the boy’s expression eases up with some sort of relief.

“You don’t look too surprised,” Jensen asks slowly.

Chris shakes his head and asks what happened, fumbling with words along the way.

“He had a heart attack,” Jensen explains.

“I better check on Rosa,” Chris says immediately, sliding past his mom to the hallway towards the bedrooms.

Jared doesn’t care how obvious it is that he and Jensen check on each other; he’s interested in how Sofia Aguilera will react to their suspicion.

Finally, Jared clears his throat and offers her a small smile. “Ma’am, you mind if we look around a little?”

“For what?” she asks, startled for the first time since they showed up.

“It’s procedure in homicides,” he explains then instantly wants to swallow the words back up.

“Jesse had a heart attack. Why do you say homicide?”

Jensen pats Jared’s back as if acknowledging the small slip-up without reprimanding him for it. “My partner misspoke. We just like to make sure everything’s okay at home before we move on. In all cases of death.”

Somehow, she keeps with the calm façade and sadly apologizes for her son’s behavior, and then insists she must be with her children.

“Mrs. Aguilera,” Jared tries kindly.

“Lo siento, pero … mija is so sick. I must help her.”

Even with the funny feeling burrowing in his gut, Jared doesn’t want to push just yet. Not until they have more than intuition leading them.

Jared and Jensen each offer her a business card, insisting she call for any reason at all, and leave the home. Just a few steps towards the sidewalk and Jensen insists, “I’ll take the house to the left, you go right.”





Even with the state of Chris Aguilera’s face and a damn good hunch, Jared and Jensen get little to no information from the neighbors. Very few would open their doors more than half a foot to even look at their badges. After a long day interviewing, they’d decided to hit the database for anything on Jesse Aguilera in the morning.

Jared drums his fingers on his desk and sighs when his search again comes empty of anything useful. “I just wanna get in that guy’s room.” Jensen lifts an eyebrow and Jared rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Patience, grasshopper.”

“I don’t have patience. Or evidence. Or even a lead to walk with.”

“Hey, I got an idea.” Jensen doesn’t bother looking away from his research, but he does point towards Jared as he continues. “How about you tap your fingers on those keys and try to finds us one?”

“I hate your attitude today,” Jared mumbles.

“Just today, huh?” he asks, distracted still by his work.

Jared has to admit that being cooped up in the station is never any good for either of them. Short fuses in small places, 90-100-degree temperatures outside, and no one’s in a good mood. “It’s not like you’re doing any good over there either.”

“Bar brawl in 2005,” Jensen says slowly as he keeps reading the screen in front of him. “Disorderly conduct in 2007.”

Jared leans around his own monitor to watch Jensen. “And?”

“And,” Jensen sighs. “It states a pattern of violence.”

He’s not sure there’s much to it; Jared’s been following Aguilera’s educational and professional life for the past three hours and nothing pops. Still, he asks, “What happened in ’07?”

Jensen looks back at his screen, eyes moving side to side as he reads, and Jared takes the moment to stare and appreciate the angle he gets of Jensen’s nose, cheekbone, and jaw.

“You boy scouts got anything?” Lieutenant Beaver asks as he appears at their desks.

Their boss is eying Jared oddly, but Jared brushes it off and motions towards Jensen. “He’s got something on disorderly conduct and a bar fight.”

Beaver’s still watching Jared, and God, Jared’s really gotta cut this shit about Jensen out if his boss is paying any attention.

“What’s the deal with those two?” Beaver asks, finally looking at Jensen.

“In 2005, he got clocked while hitting on a bartender. Assailant was the bartender’s brother, and then everything flew.” He glances up to Beaver with a small smirk. “Punches and barstools.”

“And our guy was at the center of it?”

“More or less,” Jensen says quickly. “Then two years later, he’s picked up on drunken disorderly at the park near his house – ”

“Really?” That really piques Jared’s interest, but Jensen gives him an odd look.

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised,” Jensen smarts off. “His buddy on the park crew told you he was a drinker and his wife is clearing beer bottles off the table in the middle of the afternoon.”

Jared puts his arms out in the air as he glares at Jensen and is ready to defend himself. He’s getting pissed and annoyed with Jensen’s insistence, been dealing with it all morning, but Beaver gives them each a stern look, so he drops his arms and listens for more.

“What about domestic disturbance?” Beaver asks.

Jensen waits a few beats before he admits, “Nothing yet.”

“What about the wife? The kids? Any trouble there?”

“I’m about to get into that,” Jared offers. He wasn’t, really, but it’s a good diversion at the moment.

Beaver seems to believe him and knocks on the edge of the desk before he grumbles something about them bickering like an old couple then heads to his office, shutting the door behind him.

Jared doesn’t waste time getting into medical records for hospitals in the Aguileras’ neighborhood, and soon enough, he’s got a few dozen hits on the last name at Holy Cross Hospital, two to three miles south. Once he rules out mismatched addresses and names, he finds something for Christian Aguilera from 2006.

He sucks in a breath when he reads the words Proximal Humerus Fracture and rolls his own shoulder in sympathy, daring to imagine how that boy had survived a broken shoulder when he was just 12.

That would explain what Sofia Aguilera meant by the last three years being difficult.

Leaning forward on his desk, elbow on the surface and hand covering the lower part of his face, Jared flips through a handful of other hospital records that cover the last three years. There are reports of a visit where Chris had three broken fingers on the same hand, another was diagnosed as a Grade II concussion with associated loss of consciousness and a head wound.

“What is it?”

Jared is startled from the lengthy files that detail the injuries and each emergency room doctor’s suspicions for abuse. Jensen’s watching him carefully and then his eyes go soft for a few moments.

“What’d you find?” Jensen asks, further prompting Jared.

He bites his bottom lip then sighs. “Three years of documented abuse.”

Jensen’s face morphs between surprise, sympathy, and then disgust. “On Chris?”

“Yeah,” he says, dropping his head with a small nod.

“What about the other two?”

“Nothing that I can see.”

Jensen runs a hand over his head, scratching at the base of his skull as he mutters a few angry curses.

Jared drops his head to catch Jensen’s eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies instantly, popping up to watch his screen intently. Before Jared can argue, Jensen offers, “Lunch on me? Then we can hit the neighborhood again and ask about Chris’s last three years.”

There’s likely no good to pushing Jensen on his disappointment over Chris Aguilera’s medical records. And it certainly couldn’t hurt to get back to the neighbors now that there’s something concrete to ask about, so Jared nods and stands up. “Yeah, sure.”





They’d been brushed off time and time again by neighbors, everyone insisting the family was good, friendly, respectable. When either Jensen or Jared asked someone about Chris’s injuries over the years, responses were typically short and simple; Jesse was a good man, took care of his home and his yard, and lent a helping hand whenever for whatever. A few at least attempted to lie, insisting Chris was tall and gangly, a klutz.

Even though Jared had been skeptical of it doing any good, they stopped at the Aguilera’s church. The monsignor had nothing to report except that all four were in attendance every Sunday, which apparently absolved Jesse from being physically abusive.

“I just hate the idea that this asshole can tap holy water on his forehead and everyone looks the other way,” Jensen rants, ending with a tired sigh.

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir,” Jared says. “I’m none too happy that everything just got ten times more complicated. We can’t just have a clean heart attack and close the books.”

“You’re pissed about paperwork when we’re dealing with an abused kid?” Jensen asks wildly.

“No!” he replies quickly, trying to calm Jensen with an easier tone. “I’m just saying, everything’s all messed up here.

“Well, I’ve got something simple for you,” Ferris insists when she enters the room with a file of paperwork. “Jesse Aguilera’s cause of death is myocardial infarction.”

“Wow, thank you,” Jensen complains with a roll of his eyes.

Ferris glares at him, which gets Jensen to ease up and drop his crossed arms. He then flips his hand in the air for her to continue. “Okay, grumpy, how about the myocardial infarction was caused by high levels of diacetylmorphine.”

Jared’s mouth pops open and Jensen looks to him for more explanation. “Are you for real? Heroin?”

“Science don’t lie sweetie. And neither does this man’s ass.” Ferris moves to the covered body, flipping the sheet up and pointing at a tiny pinprick with a pale bruise flaring out. It’s just behind the man’s hip, angling towards his back.

Jensen sighs. “God, this guy’s reputation just keeps falling further. Child abuser and now drug addict.”

“Not so fast. I didn’t say addict,” she corrects. “I only found one hole on him. I’m pretty sure this is it.”

“So, what?” Jared asks with a laughable snort. “Guy tries heroin on a whim? Five years in narcotics and I’ve never seen heroin on a first go-round.”

“How about with a drunk who likes to beat kids?” Jensen offers, still haughty.

“I’d say you could be looking for someone who fed it to him.” Ferris taps Aguilera’s back then motions at herself with her fist striking an odd angle. “I don’t know many people who’re willing to crazy eight themselves, especially on a first try.”

“You know many recreational heroin users?” Jared asks with an odd smile and high eyebrow. Before his current two-year stint in homicide, he’d spent time on the drug unit. He knows enough people to connect the dots for something like this in their case.

Ferris laughs sharply. “None that I’ll tell you about, kiddo.”

He chuckles to her smirk then sighs when he considers their new evidence. He glances at Jensen, because he still looks pissed off for whatever reason all of a sudden. “So, what d’you think? Mom got him because he hit Chris?”

Jensen shrugs stiffly. “I’m not sure I see her as the drug buying type.”

“It wouldn’t be so hard to find in that area. Just a few friends of friends or something.”

“The bigger question is many friends have access to true poison?” Ferris asks.

“What?” Jared asks.

“Jesse Aguilera’s labs also show traces of the Victorian’s favorite stimulant, arsenic.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen bursts out.

Ferris mocks her fingers like a gun and pulls the trigger. “Ten cent pistol. The heroin slips through the system and a few hours later, the arsenic gets ya. You’re looking at him getting stuck about in the middle of the night.”

Jared thinks on it and lets out an awkward laugh. “I didn’t realize people actually still did that.”

“Yeah, well,” Jensen sighs. “The guy’s smacking his step-son around, I wouldn’t be surprised that someone nailed him good.”

“You think the kid did it?” Jared asks awkwardly. He knows it’s looking possible, but he hates the thought.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he complains. “I’m not saying I wanna haul a 15-year-old in here and give him the Spanish Inquisition.”

“I didn’t say that!” Jared defends instantly. The room’s feeling charged and even Ferris is smiling oddly and backing out of the room with a mumbled excuse.

“Then what are you saying?”

“I don’t know … how about let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

Jensen spins out of the room with a huffy, “I’m not jumping to conclusions, Jesus Christ.”

Jared thanks Ferris, accepts their copy of the preliminary labs, and follows Jensen down the hallway, trying to calm him down. This morning, Jensen was all fun and games, even mocking him about being a good wife, and now he’s picking fights. “Then what’re you saying?”

As Jensen walks briskly, he talks without one look in Jared’s direction. “I’m just saying, you push someone around enough, they’ll push back.”

“Hey, c’mon,” Jared insists as he nudges Jensen and forces him against the tiled wall near the stairs down to the lobby. There’s something strange here and Jared’s hesitant to get to it, but he wants Jensen to let it out and let it go. “What’re you talking about?” he asks quietly.

Jensen’s eyes are right on Jared, but after a few seconds, they drop off and he pulls Jared’s hands off his shoulders so he can head down the stairs. “Nothing. Let’s get outta here. I’m done with this for today.”

As Jared keeps up with Jensen, he tries, “Hey, good news, though. Ferris says homicide, making the house a crime scene, and we can finally get inside to search.”

“Not until Ferris’s exam is final,” he complains. “And the D.A. gets the paperwork moving.”

“Yeah, but that’ll only take what? A day or two?”

Jensen doesn’t reply, just shoves the front door open and keeps walking.

They’re silent to the car and once Jared’s in the passenger seat, he flips through the file from Ferris. He’s reading quick, so absorbed in her notes on the first pass over Aguilera that he doesn’t realize Jensen hasn’t even started the car until Jensen clears his throat.

Jared glances across the space to find Jensen eying him oddly. Jensen’s hands are poised like he’s ready to drive, one hand wrapped around the top of the steering wheel and the other holding the key in the ignition.

“Yeah?” Jared asks carefully.

Jensen’s eyes run over Jared’s face and he licks the corner of his mouth with a sigh. “You wanna get a drink? I could use something to take the edge off.”

Any other day, Jared figures he would, but despite the sight of Jensen staring him down, licking over his lips and all, Jared’s mind is somehow firmly on the case. He doesn’t know what it is, but something in Chris’s abuse is hitting Jensen hard, and Jared would love to wrap this case up as soon as possible to take away the tension.

“I know this guy,” Jared explains. “He should have a clue on lacing arsenic.”

“At nine o’clock at night?”

Jared’s contact isn’t exactly legal, but he’ll have leads Jared couldn’t get above ground, and the guy owes Jared a favor or two over the years from turning the other way for just a small bit of information on bigger dogs. “He doesn’t exactly keep banker’s hours.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows quickly, and it seems like he’ll sigh again. Instead, he turns the ignition and drives off to drop Jared back at the station to fetch his car.





Jared’s running on steam. He was up half the night, tracking down his guy, who’s been in hiding after a bad deal with a major drug runner. It was after three in the morning when he was finally face-to-face with the contact and able to drag even an ounce of information from him.

After that escapade, he’d gone home and decided to nap for just half an hour, then got back up, showered, and is now on Jensen’s doorstep with two fresh coffees and a caffeine-induced smile to get them started on the day before the sun makes it unbearable.

It takes a few knocks until the door is pulled open and Jensen is standing in just a pair of boxer briefs, hair messy and eyes barely open against the light from the hallway. “What’re you doing here?” he asks, voice groggier than ever.

Jared tries not to stare, or drool, or something more pathetic like moan at the sight of Jensen half-naked. His breath catches to the point that he almost gargles out his answer. He needs a quick cough to clear himself and he’s back in business and smiles, offering the cup through the foot of space between the door and its frame.

“I’ve got coffee. And a lead. Go on and get ready so we can get a jump on it.”

Jensen accepts the coffee, but barely responds, suddenly distracted by something behind him. When he looks at Jared again, he seems awkward. Nervous even. “I’ll just meet you at the station.”

“Everything alright?” Jared asks carefully. He tries to spy beyond Jensen. All he can spot are clothes strewn across the living room, pants and dress shirts. And then there’s an arm reaching down to grab one of those shirts and tug it onto a decidedly male body.

Jared’s gut drops. It turns over and then seems to drop again for how heavy it feels.

“Sorry,” the guy can be heard mumbling from across the room. “I’ll be out in a few.”

Jensen barely meets Jared’s eyes, mostly looks over his shoulder and back behind him, like he’s unsure who to talk to, or what to say.

Jared’s just as speechless, air stuck in his chest and making him lightheaded. Last night, Jensen had asked him out for a drink, said he had to take the edge off, and he did. With some guy he must’ve picked up from the bar.

On the one hand, Jared’s grateful to be proven that Jensen is into guys and all the tension of the last two years hasn’t been entirely one-sided. But … now Jared’s faced with Jensen ending his one-night stand when it could’ve possibly been Jared inside Jensen’s apartment like this.

Jared shakes his head and turns away to grant Jensen some privacy to end the moment. He even moves a few feet down the hallway, away from the stairway to the front door so the guy can leave without them facing off.

He tries to ease himself from the moment by reminding himself that he’s got his own stupid little code about sex during a case, and he wouldn’t have let it go this far. But just the opportunity to try …

“Sorry about that,” Jensen apologizes, but it’s tense as hell.

Jared schools his expression into something even. He doesn’t have the energy to play it up happily and he certainly doesn’t want to give away his disappointment here. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Jensen pulls his door open and motions Jared in with the coffee still in hand. “Just, hang for a few, and I’ll get ready.”

It’s likely all heightened by his emotional attachment to this moment, but Jared is certain the apartment reeks of sex. He’d rather not stew in the scent of Jensen and someone else for a second longer, so he takes another step away. “It’s fine. I’ll just meet you down at the station.”

A staring match starts up, neither giving anything away, until Jensen nods shortly. “Alright. Fine.” He shuts the door without another word or look, and Jared heads out.

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