White Wedding 2/5

[rose_the_hat]

Title: White Wedding
Author: rose_the_hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Words: 31,000-ish
Summary: In which Mob Boss Jensen finally marries his Enforcer Jared Padalecki
Notes: Third installment in my October Rust ‘verse. Set five years after the events in The Power Behind The Throne and King Nothing. You need to have read those to understand this as this references events that happened in the previous stories. I wanted to write something more light-hearted and fluffier with these ultra-violent characters.

Much love as always to jdl71 for being awesome and reading the same shit multiple times to help me keep my timeline straight. ♥

Fic title is the Billy Idol song.






-2-

There is no place on earth, save for Jensen’s delectable ass, that Jared loves to be in more than a tailor’s shop, and Sheppard’s is the finest. The owner and proprietor, Mark Sheppard, was based in London, having a shop along the prestigious Savile Row. He didn’t normally do tailoring personally at any of his US locations, but when he heard it was Jensen Ackles requesting him he was all too happy to accommodate. The ambiance, the fabrics, the variety of suits, even the process of being fitted was somehow relaxing.

“Mr. Ackles and Mr. Padalecki, how splendid to see you both again,” Mark Sheppard, a plump man with a receding hairline, greeted them as they entered the shop. His voice was unctuous and his manner smarmy but he was a fucking amazing tailor “Might I offer you some refreshment? Tea? Or perhaps coffee? A biscuit or two—or cookies as you Americans call them?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you,” Jensen said.

Jared strolled over to look at the waistcoats. He was getting a little thicker in the middle; his waist was thirty inches now instead of twenty-eight. He patted his midsection and decided to forego the delicious cookies Sheppard served.

“The happy day is approaching soon, I believe,” Sheppard said as he brought out their tuxes. “My notes say all that is left is a final fitting to make sure there are no last minute changes in cut or size.”

“Six days,” Jensen said, stepping onto the stool while Sheppard and his apprentice fluttered around Jensen, measuring and pinning and marking. “And that is correct.”

“On behalf of myself, and my employees, I wish you both a lifetime of health and happiness.”

Jared sat in one of the plush club chairs, right ankle resting over his left knee and sipped the superb coffee, not quite as good as the coffee Jensen had on hand at home but very very close, and waited his turn.

Twenty minutes later it was Jared’s turn to stand on the stool to be measured and pinned, Jensen was in the fitting room trying on his tux for the final time before their wedding. Wedding. It still seemed like something out of a dream that in less than a week he and Jensen would be married, legally joined together after twenty years together. Jensen would be his and everyone in the fucking world would know. He was so goddamn lucky. Jensen was an amazing man; powerful, loyal, and sexy as sin. He embodied the sophistication and masculine elegance of the mobsters Jared had always looked up to and strove to emulate. He wasn’t sure he really measured up but he tried his damnedest to be worthy of Jensen.

Hell, he and Jensen even had a surrogate son in Colin. Since the kid and the wedding were on his mind he’d better call the kid and make sure he had the date and arrival time for his flight. Jared pulled his phone out, brought up Colin’s contact info and dialed him. It rang once before switching over to voicemail. Jared’s brows drew together. It was unusual for Colin not to answer if either he or Jensen called. The kid was probably in class or chasing tail or whatever college kids got up to. Hell, maybe he was even hustling those Stanford stuffed shirts at pool. God knew the kid could play. Jared himself had taught him.



“Kid,” Jared’s voice cracks like lightning. Colin jumps and turns around, his face immediately flushing.

“Yes, sir.”

“I know I told you explicitly that this is mine and Jensen’s personal living space and no one is allowed up here without our permission. I don’t think Jensen has given you permission to be up here and I know I haven’t. What the fuck are you doing up here?”

Colin swallows convulsively. “I’m sorry, sir. I heard some of the other IC guys talking about the billiards room and I was just curious is all.”

Jared stalks closer, using his height to intimidate, but somehow the kid doesn’t seem to be, chastened, yes, but not intimidated. Good. Or if he is he isn’t showing it. Jared knows how to let the monster in him show and he’s doing so now, usually those that see it don’t live to tell about it.

“Nothing wrong with being curious, Chevy, but you show respect to Jensen and I and ask our permission to come up here in the future. Understand?”

Colin nods gravely. “Yes, sir.”

“Respect and loyalty are the tenets the Organization is built on and they mean everything to the Big Boss Man. You give us those two things and anything in the world can be yours.”

“I never meant any disrespect. It’s kinda surreal that I live here now and that Mr. Ackles is gonna pay for me to go to that fancy prep school.”

“Jensen sees a lot of potential in you, Chevy.” Jared softens his tone and puts the monster away. “And so do I.” Twin spots of color rise in the boy’s cheeks and he ducks his head, reminding Jared of Jensen for a moment. “For the record, it’s okay for you to use the billiards room. The IC and I play poker a couple of times a month. Sit in with us if you think you can handle it.” He winks and turns to go.

“Sir.”

Jared turns, brow lifted in askance.

“I heard Kane once say that you used to hustle pool.” The kid’s eyes drift over to the pool table, a little longingly.

Jared’s own eyes move over to the table. He thinks of all the times he and Jensen have fucked on it. God, Jensen’s pale skin against the green felt, the way it makes the green in his eyes so, so dark and deep, like a rainforest at dusk. Shit. He’s gotta get off that train of thought. Can’t be poppin’ wood around a kid. “I did; when I was a little younger than you.”

“Do…. Would…. Can you teach me to play?”




“Jesus Christ, Little Jay, you’re not fleecing Chevy, are you?” Kane says sauntering into the Billiards room two weeks later. It was the IC’s usual poker night, but Jared and Colin were getting in some more practice on the pool table. “Talk about pickin’ low-hanging fruit.”

“No. He’s teaching me,” Colin chirps.

Fuck yeah he was teaching him and the kid was a goddamn genius at the game. He had come a long way in just two weeks. He wasn’t as skilled as Jared, who admittedly was a little rusty when they started, but it all came back. Chevy could hardly be called “novice” anymore either; he seemed to have a real grasp of the angles and geometry that were key to mastering the game. Jensen himself was very good at pool and Jared thought the kid on par with Jensen’s skill level.

“Oh, fuck me. I’m never playing pool with either of you shits.” Kane strolls over to the wet bar.

“He learned the hard way,” Jared informed. “I took him for ten thousand dollars in five minutes. Didn’t believe I was as good as I said I was.”

“First and last time. Never again.” He pops the cap on an MGD and takes a pull.

Colin grins and winks at Jared. “I’m a pretty poor student, I’m afraid.”

Jared gives a subtle understanding nod to the kid. “Nah, Kid. You’re smart. You just need a lot of practice before you’re a real challenge to someone. Even a shitty player like you, Kane.”

“Oh no. Uh-uh. Not gonna fall for that, Little Jay.”

“Pussy,” Jared taunts. “You afraid you can’t beat a seventeen year old kid who has only been playing two weeks?”

“A seventeen year old who has been under your tutelage, you fuckin’ grifter.” Kane takes his beer and strides over to the poker table.

“Howdy, young blood and old blood,” Lazy Jase greets as he enters. “We shootin’ pool tonight instead of poker?”

“Hell fuckin’ no,” Kane says opening a deck of cards.

Jared and Colin’s gazes connect. They are on a wavelength here. They are both gonna fleece Kane. A little uptick of Colin’s brow is the only expression that mars his innocent angelic naive mask. His eyes though. His eyes are glassy chips of ice.

“Because Kane’s a chicken shit and is afraid he can’t beat a kid who barely learned how to hold the cue.”

“Yeah?” Jase says, brows raised in amusement “You scared of Chevy?” He’s behind the wet bar opening bags of snacks and pouring them into walnut bowls.

“Fuck you, too, Jase.”

“Who’s fucking who?” Mike asks as he and Tommy walk into the billiards room.

“Well, you two are fuckin’,” Stevie Guitar says as he comes in. “Jared and Jensen are fuckin’. That’s all I know.”

“And that ain’t much,” Kane says shuffling the cards.

“Kane was so traumatized by Little Jay beating him at pool all those years ago he won’t even play a game with Chevy,” Jase says.

Kane’s fists clench on the leather tabletop and he exhales sharply. “I was not traumatized. And that bastard has been teaching him, fuck you very much.”

Colin shrugs a shoulder. “Jay is trying to teach me. I’m not a very good student.”

“Ah, Kid, you are, too. You just don’t have enough patience.” Jared takes a cue and with his back to the IC, winks at Colin. He racks the balls and positions the cue ball. “You break and remember what I said.”

Colin fumbles with the cue stick before flashing an eager grin. He bends over the table, fidgets, shrugs his shoulders, changes the grip on the cue stick a few times before he lines up and goes for the break and scratches. The cue ball sails into the left pocket. He huffs angrily and slams his stick down onto the felt, acting every bit the immature kid he is not. “Jay, man, you tried. I’m just no good at this game.”

Jared’s eyes lock with Colin’s and he shakes his head a fraction of an inch. Scale it back a bit, Kid. Jared plucks the cue ball from the pocket and places it back on the table. “What did I say? Patience. You can’t expect to become a shark in a couple weeks, Chevy.”

“Honestly, Kane? You’re afraid to play a game with a kid who can’t even break?” Stevie says bringing the snack bowls over to the poker table while Jase opens beers for everyone.

“I am not afraid,” Kane snaps.

Jared and Colin’s eyes connect once again. Kane is on the hook. They gotta reel him in. Jared almost forgot how much fun it could be to hustle someone.

Jared’s brow twitches. “Try again and hold the cue the other way. See if that makes a difference.”

Colin gives a petulant sigh and takes up the cue again. He shifts his stance and shoulders, changes his grip and lines up. Jared wonders if he’s the only one that can see how contrived it is. Or maybe because he himself used to hustle and knows all the tricks to lure in a mark is why he can see it.

Colin breaks and the balls go all over. Colin drops his cue as he cheers. “Yes!”

Jared plucks the 8 ball from the pocket and holds it up. Colin’s shoulders slump. “Oh.”

The IC all guffaw and cat call.

“That? You’re afraid you can’t beat that!” Mike howls. Tommy is chuckling in a more subdued fashion, arm slung across Mike’s heaving shoulders.

“I. Am not. Afraid,” Kane states.

“Prove it then. Play the kid. Beat him. Then we can play poker and gossip like we always do,” Tommy says.

Jared and Colin say nothing, to encourage now would only give the game away. All eyes swing to Kane. He tosses the deck of cards down with a loud slap and stands. “Fine. One game.”

The sharks immediately start to circle.

“Thousand bucks,” Mike says. “On Kane.” He pulls out his wallet.

“Hey, no one said anything about betting,” Kane says hesitating, cautious, like an animal scenting danger.

Jared and Colin, still on the same wavelength, lock eyes again. “Yeah, I don’t wanna be responsible for costing anyone money,” Colin says. It’s very well done, Jared thinks. Just the right amount of hesitation and anxiety.

“You assume anyone is actually gonna bet on you, Chevy?” Stevie says. “I doubt even your teacher would.”

Jared shrugs. “I’ll cover y’alls bets,” Jared says feigning exasperation. “Just beat the kid so I can get back to Jensen.”

That seems to ease Kane and he struts over to the rack of pool cues and selects one. “See? Even Jared knows you’re gonna lose.”

Colin bows his head. “I never said I would win,” he says sounding a little distressed, sending Jared a pleading look.

“Take your medicine, Chevy,” Mike says. “Bets here. I got a grand on Kane.”

The others all pull out their wallets and slap wads of bills into Mike’s hand, stating their wagers.

“Gonna cost you eight grand, Little Jay,” Kane says. “Finally gonna get a little of mine back by beating your Mini-Me.”

“Whatever. Just break.”

It’s a close game, Jared will give Kane that. Overconfidence takes over and Kane misses a tricky shot, allowing Colin his chance at the table. The kid goes to work, no reticence or awkwardness as he takes his stance and sinks every shot. Kane watches with dawning horror realizing that he has been suckered again.



Jared regards himself in the three-angled mirror with a critical eye, from the black trousers, up to the coat that hugs his broad shoulders, and the black damask patterned waistcoat. All of it exquisitely tailored and the material buttery soft. Somehow it seems wrong but he can’t figure out why. He pokes his head out of the fitting room. Jensen is seated in the suede club chair sipping coffee and perusing the Wall Street Journal. “Jense?” He calls. “Babe, come in here a sec.”

“Something wrong?” Jensen asks, slipping into the fitting room, closing the partitioned door behind him. He had changed out of his tux and back in his Hugo Boss slacks and button up shirt.

“Think this looks okay?”

Jensen’s eyes move over Jared and he feels it like a caress. Really, Jared should have more control over himself now that he is on the other side of forty but when it comes to Jensen he just can’t. His man is delicious and irresistible and everything he does is effortlessly sexy. “Very dashing,” Jensen confirms with a decisive nod of his head.

Jensen’s right of course but Jared turns back to his reflection in the mirrors. Yes, he does look very handsome but somehow it doesn’t fit. It’s excellent tailoring and fabric; very elegant and understated but that isn’t Jared and never has been. That’s Jensen’s style. “It’s all very plain. Black and white. Traditional.” His forehead crinkles as he realizes that is exactly what is wrong with it.

“You don’t like it,” Jensen states.

“It’s not me, Jense.”

“Well, this is your wedding as much as mine. You should have whatever color tux or suit you want.”

A horrified expression slides over Jared’s face. “Oh God. Does this mean I’m a Groomzilla?”

Jensen busts out laughing, his crow’s feet beside his sparkling eyes popping. “Oh shit! That’s hilarious!” He fumbles around, looking for his phone, between wheezing laughter. He locates his phone and begins tapping something out.

“Jensen?” Jared asks, brows drawing together, tone cautious. His man looks like an imp, a gleeful Rumplestilskin, as he types whatever he’s typing to whoever. A dawning horror hits Jared then. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jensen’s laughter has tapered off to giggles but he’s still tapping away. “Telling the guys I’m marrying a Groomzilla!”

Jared crowds up against Jensen. Jensen ceases his lightspeed texting and gazes up at him, eyes going dark. Jared cocks a brow and sinks to his knees. Though the fitting rooms are large it’s still a tight fit because both he and Jensen are big guys.

“Jared?”

Jared leans in and nuzzles Jensen’s cock. “If you send that text I won’t blow you,” Jared says in a hot whisper against Jensen’s rapidly filling cock. “Or, I’ll blow you but not allow you to come.”

Jensen bites his lip and his phone, group text not sent, falls from his hand as he grips Jared’s shoulder.

“Everything all right, gentlemen?” Sheppard asks from the other side of the door.

“Fine. I just wanted Jensen’s opinion. I want to make some changes, Mr. Sheppard. Give us a few minutes, please,” Jared’s voice is calm, impassive, as if he isn’t on his knees ready to swallow Jensen’s cock.

“Of course, sirs. Whatever you ask, I can accomplish.”

Jared unzips Jensen’s slacks and pulls out his fat, hard cock, a bead of moisture leaking from the tip. Jared has never seen a more beautiful cock in his life. His mouth waters and his own cock stiffens in his slacks. “Gonna be good, baby, and stay quiet?”

Jensen’s mouth opens to answer, but snaps it shut to nod his answer.

Jared’s tongue snakes out to lick away the drop of precum.


Jensen gasps and his hips buck. Jared grips Jensen’s hips, fingers digging into the bone. He fixes Jensen with a stern gaze and shakes his head. Jensen bites his bottom lip and stares down at him with pleading apologetic eyes. When Jensen looks at him like that he could never deny him anything.

He flicks his tongue repeatedly over the head rapidly, being as obscene about it, giving Jensen a show. It’s warm in the confines of the fitting room and sweat has broken out on Jensen’s forehead, shimmering in the light. Jared curls his tongue around the tip, pressing against the sensitive nerves on the underside.

Jensen jams his fist in his own mouth to stifle his moans. Jared is enough of an exhibitionist that he wants Sheppard to know what they are doing, but not so much that he hears all of Jensen’s sweet noises. Those are for Jared alone.

Jared takes the tip into his mouth, winks, before swallowing Jensen down to the root, nose being tickled by Jensen’s trimmed pubes. He goes to work, hollowing his cheeks to apply pressure, bobbing his head, making wet sloppy noises. Spit and precum coat Jensen’s shaft, and escape from the corners of Jared’s mouth. Jensen fingers knotting in Jared’s hair the closer he gets to orgasm.

It’s not long before Jensen tenses and floods Jared’s mouth with bitter come as a deep rumble of satisfaction sounds from his throat.

Jared doesn’t swallow. He holds Jensen’s load in his mouth and pushes to his feet. He cups Jensen’s chin, Jensen already tilting his head up for the kiss and parting his sweet lips. Jared covers Jensen’s mouth with his own and feeds him his own come. Jensen clutches at him and shudders. His tongue invades Jared’s mouth to completely lick away the taste of himself.

Jared pulls back and gazes at his fiancé, his eyelids are heavy, and his cheeks are so red. “So good for me, baby.”


***


“Does this look okay?” Jared asks stepping out of the en suite in yet another suit. This one a conservative single-breasted wool silk blend Armani; basic black and very understated.

Jensen sighs. “Jared, it looks fine, just like the other four you’ve tried on. All your clothes are fabulous and you know it. I don’t get why you’re freaking out about this.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Jared proclaims defensively. “I just want to make a good impression on your mother.” Jared spins in a circle as if trying to check out his own ass. “Maybe the Versace.” He heads back into the en suite.

Jensen sighs and sits back down on the bed, grabbing his phone and dialing Colin.

“Hey, it’s Colin. Leave a message.”

“Hey Col. It’s Dad. I’m just calling to remind you that you’ll need to go to Sheppard’s to make sure your suit still fits for the wedding. Call me when you get this, okay?” Jensen disconnected the call and listens to Jared muttering from the en suite.

He shakes his head and pockets his phone. It’s a little odd that Colin hadn’t answered his phone. Usually he picks up on the first ring if Jensen or Jared called. He didn’t want to worry about Colin, not with his mother’s impending arrival and Jared stressing about it, not to mention their fucking wedding five days away. He absolutely was not nervous. Why should he be? He and Jared had been together for twenty years. They were Gibraltar solid.

He wandered out onto the veranda, pulling his shades from his pocket, and slips them over his eyes. Colin had been so eager to prove himself, always at Jensen’s side soaking up whatever knowledge Jensen imparted like a sponge committing everything Jensen said to memory. Neither Jensen nor Jared had ever told the kid that his presence at the Compound and in their life had caused them the only serious rift they ever had between them.


Jensen fists his hands in the lapels of Jared’s ten thousand dollar suit and throws him, not easily, up against the wall. He presses his forearm hard across the impressive breath of Jared’s shoulders. “You fucking talk to me. Now. What’s your problem?”

“Jensen, get your hands off me, or I will break them,” Jared’s voice is glacial, his face expressionless. This is the remorseless killer, the torturer, the executioner addressing him. Jensen swallows hard as the flash of the monster that lurks inside the man he loves comes to the surface. Unlike other times, it doesn’t disappear back into the depths like Nessie. Jensen’s gut tightens with nerves. He knows everything Jared is capable of, the things he’s done. Jared once told Jensen that he had nothing to fear from Jared, but now…. For the first time in their sixteen years together, he’s scared of Jared.

Jensen has never felt less like the Big Boss Man; still, he marshals his remaining courage and does not let go. He tightens his hold and slams Jared into the wall again. “Fuck you, Padalecki. Something has gotten into you and it sure as shit ain’t me.”

“Jensen,” warning and regret thread through Jared’s voice. He stiffens, readying himself for a fight.

Jensen knows he has a precious few seconds before Jared breaks his hands. He lets go, feeling bereft and terrified. Things have been so off between them lately; Jared withdrawing from him a little more each day in small ways: eating alone, turning away when Jensen tries to kiss or touch him, sleeping with his back to Jensen, and more recently leaving their bed when Jensen tries to initiate sex.

“Jared, please, talk to me,” he begs and Jensen “Ice-Cold” Ackles does not fucking beg. “Please.”

With a few quick movements Jared’s suit, which Jensen had wrinkled, is back in its usual pristine condition. “Now you’ll deign to talk to me? What’s wrong? The kid can’t offer scintillating conversation?”

Jensen has no idea what Jared is talking about, who he is talking about. The kid? Does Jared mean Colin? Realization races through him like floodwaters through a gulch. “You’re jealous,” he says stunned. He honestly hadn’t thought Jared capable of that particular emotion. If he still wasn’t a little scared he would laugh.

Color suffuses Jared’s angular face. He turns and heads for the door. Oh hell no. Jensen was not going to let Jared run from this. He reaches out and grabs Jared’s arm. “Jare… You can’t possibl—”

Jared snarls and wrenches his arm from Jensen’s grasp. “Can’t what?” He violently shoves Jensen back. Color is still high in his cheeks; his eyes are hard but not the cold disconnected face of the unrepentant killer.

Jensen takes a breath. “You can’t possibly think I could ever be interested in Colin. He is straight. But more than that, he is a child.”

Jared shoves him again. Jensen can’t help but notice there is very little of Jared’s power behind this one. He only stumbles back a few steps. “I have never even looked at another man since you came into my life. I love you, Jared. Only you. You know that.”

“Do I?” He shoves Jensen again. This one weaker still.

“Yes, you do.”

“How do I know that after sixteen years you don’t want a little something different? You’ve been spending all this fucking time with him. Can he dick you down like I can? Do you call him Sir?” Jared shoves him once more. This one the weakest yet. Jensen barely moves. He knows Jared isn’t really angry at him. He isn’t angry at all. He’s jealous but has turned it into anger because anger is easy for Jared to deal with.

“I am training him, Jared. I have to teach him. Especially since he’s talking about wanting to go away to college.” And Colin is a fast and eager learner. Jensen himself had been just as eager when his father had decided it was time for him to take a bigger role in the Organization. He really sees so much of himself in the young man, had ever since he first talked to him and of course he saw Jared in him as well. He had Jared’s hunger and ruthless potential.

“Oh? And Kane or any of the other fucking guys can’t teach him?”

“No, because they do not run this shit, Jared. I do.” He sighs. He needs to get to the bottom of Jared’s jealousy and insecurity. Thinking it safe to approach Jared, he reaches out and runs his fingers through Jared’s hair. Jared jerks, as if from an irksome fly, but doesn’t move away, nor threaten any violence.

“Jared, you and I have been together for sixteen years and you have never acted like this. What is it about Colin that’s getting to you?”

Jared raises his eyes and Jensen can see uncertainty, sadness, and regret in them. “Because I look at him and I see me. Only a me that’s not fucked up. Or not as fucked up. And you deserve better than me. And he is.”

“Jared, you don’t get to tell me what I deserve. You are what I want. All that I want. Just the way you are, fucked up monster that you are.” Jensen takes a few deliberate steps toward his man, keeping their gazes locked, keeping his back straight and shoulders, slipping into his Ice Cold Big Boss Man persona, but under it all was Jared’s “baby”.

“I know exactly who and what you are. It winds me up and turns me on. The darkness in you calls to the darkness in me. You make me feel safe.” Jared’s mouth opens, to refute the last part. Jensen knew Jared still carried a shit-ton of guilt about Jensen’s abduction and captivity last year. No matter how many times Jensen assured him he was not to blame, Jared would not let it go. “No. You make me feel safe because I know you would let the world burn for me. Let go of what happened a year ago.”

Jared bows his head and his shoulders slump. He exhales and all the fight goes out of him. When he lifts his head he looks devastated and Jensen aches for him.

“Can you forgive me for the shit with Misha?”

That puts Jensen totally off balance. “There is nothing to—”

“Just say it. I need to hear you say it.” His voice wavers dangerously.

“Of course I forgive you. I’d forgive you anything.”

Jared’s Adam’s apple jumps as he swallows. His ever changing eyes shimmer over-bright. “I’m sorry for being a jealous asshole.” He sniffs and blinks rapidly. “I should find the kid. Play a game of pool with ‘im or something.”

Jensen smiles. “I think he’d like that.”



“I fucking give up!” Jared’s explosive voice from the bedroom. Jensen turned away from their past and toward their future as Jared storms out of the en suite in his boxer briefs.

Fucking hell. He had no right still looking that good. Jensen had gotten a little softer in the middle and was insecure as hell about it. No matter how many crunches he did or how much he watched his diet—cutting out his beloved dessert of pie—his tummy still remained paunchy. Jared didn’t care so Jensen tried not to let it bother him. But seriously, fuck Jared for still looking like a carved-from-granite Adonis. The bastard.

Jensen sighed and walked over to his fiancé, looped his arms around his neck and kissed his pouting mouth. Jared’s arms came around him and pulled him close.

Jensen broke the kiss and strode into the closet—they had to have it expanded when Jared moved his extensive wardrobe into the master suite—and selected a blue slim-cut Dior suit. “Wear this. It’ll make your eyes look even more amazing.”

Jared flashed a grateful smile and went into the en suite to change. Jensen grinned and shook his head. He pulled out his phone and dialed Colin again. Once more he only got Colin’s voicemail message. Jensen hung up without leaving a message. It wouldn’t do anything to leave him redundant messages. Colin would call whenever he got done doing whatever it was that was taking his attention. Probably a girl. Colin has seemed particularly distracted since beginning his senior year and there was nothing more distracting than falling in love. Jensen hoped whoever the girl was was worthy of a man like Colin.

Wait. Did he need to have a Father-Son talk with Colin, like Alan had done with him? He was soon to be a husband but wasn’t he also a father, of a sort? Okay, maybe he might be stressing about things in his own way.

At first it was strange to have someone calling him ‘Dad’ considering he never thought he would be a parent or a parental type figure to someone but he was. He would never forget the first time Colin called him ‘Dad’, but that was mostly because you don’t forget when you get shot.


Colin didn’t like guns, but it was important he knew how to properly use one. Usually Jared taught the kid, but today he and Jensen were out at the Ranch doing a little target practice. It was an isolated spot so there was no one around to hear or report their gunshots. Jared was in one of the interrogation chambers questioning someone who had been caught talking with a cop. Colin himself was eager to learn the art of interrogation but Jensen still didn’t think he was mature enough yet but he was getting there. He had graduated from Chilton Prep as Valedictorian and was going on to Stanford in the fall. Jared and Jensen were effusively proud of the kid.

He had also graduated within the Organization as well. For the last year he had worked on DJ Qualls’ bookmaking crew, and Jensen had recently assigned him to Kane’s loan sharking and collections crew. Colin was good at it, had a real taste for it. The kid had a darkness in him, and affection for violence. Jensen surmised Colin a well of anger in him, anger at his father for dying, and his mother for drinking herself into a stupor and neglecting him, and he tapped into that when shaking people down.

“I just think its chicken shit. To shoot someone from a distance. I’d rather look into their eyes, see their regret. Can’t do that on the end of a gun.”

“You sound like Jared,” Jensen said, shaking his head. “Sometimes expediency is called for, so we use guns. Now, take up your stance.”

Even if he didn’t like guns, he was still a quick study as he was with everything, be it academics or learning the ins and outs of the rackets. Jensen had taken him through all the stances: the Weaver, the Chapman, and the Isosceles. Now, he was working with him on close quarters stances, the Strong Hand retention and the Power Point stance.

“Here, try mine. It has a bit more recoil, so allow for that.” Jensen took the Taurus nine millimeter and handed over his Desert Eagle .45.

The report of the gun was explosively loud. Jensen felt immediate pain in his thigh and went down.

“Motherfuck!” Jensen howled, slapping his hand on the pant leg that was steadily darkening with his blood.

“Oh my God! Shitshitshit!” Colin collapsed next to him. “Dad, Dad, I’m sorry! Please don’t die!”

It felt like Jensen’s leg was on fire but the thing that cut through it was that word: ‘Dad’. He gripped Colin’s hand. His face was milk-white and his big eyes full of regret and glazed with a film of tears; his chin was trembling as he struggled not to cry.

“Jensen?” Jared must have heard Jensen’s scream and was coming to investigate. Jensen had thought that Colin was white before, but his complexion was damn near translucent as Jared began running flat out toward them.

“Oh, God,” Colin moaned looking as if he would either vomit or faint. “He’s gonna kill me. Dad, please. He’ll kill me.” He gazed at Jensen with terrified eyes.

Jensen understood the reason for Colin’s abject fear. Anyone who hurt Jensen, caused him any pain, Jared made sure to pay it back tenfold.

Jensen wondered if Colin even registered he was calling Jensen “Dad” with all the stress.

“Jensen!” Jared’s shout was enough to shake the ground. He grabbed Colin by the scruff of his shirt, hauled him up, and violently shook him. “What the fuck did you do?”

Jensen reached out and clutched Jared’s calf. “Jare. Jared, stop. Let him go.”

Jared’s face was a mix of emotions: murderous rage, worry, and shock. “He shot you!”

“It was an accident. I’m not hurt too bad. Let Colin go.”

“Accident!” Jared shouted, shaking Colin again. Colin seemed paralyzed or in shock.

“Yes, and it’s my fault. I gave him my gun and it has a hair trigger. Let him go.”

Jared releases his hold on the boy and Colin collapses like a puppet and promptly vomits up his breakfast.

“Call Doc Morgan. Really, Jared. I think I’m just grazed.”

“Grazed! Your pant leg is soaked in blood! What if he hit your femoral artery?”

“I’d be passed out by now. And it’s not that high up. Call Doc Morgan, now, Jared.”

Jared yanks his phone out and dials their personal doctor and rambles off the pertinent information.

“Colin?” Jensen reaches out, grasps Colin’s wrist. “Colin, son? You with me?”

Colin’s wiping his mouth and tears have finally started to fall and race down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dad.” He throws his arms around Jensen’s neck.

Jared gazes at the two of them, looking stunned. “Dad?” Jared mouths.

Jensen flashes a pain-filled bemused smile but his heart is warm and full, as he gives his boy a one-armed hug. “I’m all right, Colin.”

“Doc Morgan is coming. He says to put pressure on the wound and get Jensen to the house. Colin,” Jared’s voice is gentle as is his touch when he puts a hand on Colin’s shoulder to get his attention. Colin jumps a mile, lets out a frightened yelp, and pulls from Jensen’s embrace.

“Colin,” Jared strips out of his shirt and hands it to the pasty young man. “Wrap this around Jensen’s leg and tie it off. Can you do that, Kid?”

“Please don’t kill me. I didn’t mean it. I would never—” Colin gags again but doesn’t vomit.

“Colin, do what I asked. We got to get the bleeding under control.”

Colin wipes his eyes, seems to gain control of himself. “Jared…do you hate me now?”

Jensen has gazed into that face for eighteen years now and thought he knew every expression but the one that passes over his face as Colin asks his question is entirely new. Its soft hurt expression washes over Jared’s angular face, it’s so soft with affection and looks almost foreign on his face. “No, Kid. We’re cool.”

“Hello, bleeding here,” Jensen says, feeling a little lightheaded, adrenaline wearing off.



Jensen stares at his phone where Colin’s voicemail greeting plays again. What the hell is up with that kid? He always answers his call. He’s trying not to worry, Colin has his own life out in California, friends and engagements, classes to attend, even his own small rackets to run: a little gambling ring and betting business. Jensen has just been conditioned within their lifestyle that when someone doesn’t answer their phone they are in trouble. Jared’s probably talked to him, or one of the other guys. He’s probably with a girl somewhere and his phone is on silent in a pile of discarded clothes. He’ll see that Jensen has called a few times and return as soon as he can.


CH 3