It's Gonna Take A Lot [To Drag Me Away From You]



May 5, 1998
Austin, Texas

In Jared Padalecki's small apartment, things were a mess. A black graduation cap and gown set was thrown haphazardly over a chair while books and notes covered most available surfaces. Posters of landscapes and photographs of two young men were taped to cracked walls, closet doors, and kitchen cabinets.

Final exams were nearly over but instead of studying, Jared was glued to his computer, constantly checking and rechecking his email and news feeds. With every glance, he willed his silent phone to ring.

Nothing. Still nothing.

Jared knew, despite the lack of complete news in front of him, that something was wrong. J.D. Morgan knew it too but faced the same shortage of information.

He refreshed the BBC news page, but the headlines didn't change. "Mugabe Designates Hundreds of Farms for Repossession" he kept reading, though he'd more than memorized the short and sparse article. No new information there. In this case, Jared was pretty sure he knew more background than the journalist who authored the piece.

Outside his windows, the graduating senior could hear the jubilant shouts of students finished with exams celebrating the end of their school year. The minds of his fellow seniors would be preoccupied with partying, packing, and figuring out just what their places in the world would be as soon as they left campus.

Summer beckoned - an irresistible call.

For Jared, however, all he could think about was that half a world away people he cared about could be in danger.

And there was nothing he could do but wait for further news that might never come.

Please, let him be all right.

<><><><><><><>

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning.

<><><><><><><>

June 12, 1997
35,000 ft. above the African Continent

The noise on the plane was deafening, the constant drone of the prop engines and air system coming together so loudly in Jared's head that he was almost unable to think. In the small, coach seat there was no outlet for his nervous energy. He'd already looked out the window dozens of times - land looked the same at 35,000 feet no matter what continent you flew over. He couldn't stand to read, sleep was beyond him, and he couldn't talk to J.D., for whom sleep was not a problem.

He pulled out his new portable CD player, a gift from his parents right before his departure, and fit the headphones over his ears. The Smashing Pumpkins only added to the din in his head, but Jared figured that kind of noise was better than the overwhelming beat of the plane.

Billy Corgan's voice helped calm Jared enough to think about where he was - where he was going.

He still couldn't believe his luck. Granted, J.D. Morgan was his academic advisor and favorite professor at the University of Texas (not to mention his career idol), but he hadn't imagined the kind of opportunity he'd been given at the end of his junior year - the chance to be J.D.'s research assistant for the summer.

In Zimbabwe.

"Freakin' Zimbabwe!" His friends had shouted drunkenly during his impromptu goodbye party. Apparently doing something for the summer besides taking more classes or going home to work the ever-mundane summer job was a reason to party.

Jared Padalecki, who'd previously thought Disneyworld was the ultimate vacation, was going to Africa.

Professor Morgan stirred next to him, cracking his spine with a sound that made Jared shudder, as the pilot's heavily accented voice came on the intercom informing them that they were about two hours away from landing in Harare.

Oh God, oh God.

Two hours before Jared's summer really began. Two months in Africa, working with his mentor and researching the growing unrest in Zimbabwe for J.D.'s upcoming pieces. Jared had tried to read all of the articles his professor had given him before the trip, giving him a vague idea of exactly what was starting to happen there, but anticipation and preparation prevented him from getting to everything. It wasn't as if he could turn on CNN and see the stories there - Jared had been sure that since it was of interest to J.D. Morgan, he'd be able to find information in mainstream media - but there was hardly a note.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the reclining of the seat ahead - Jared's tall frame scrunched in protest - and he tried to dispense the nervousness that had consumed him.

Zimbabwe. A country, according to J.D., on the cusp of all encompassing turmoil. A summer in the African plains.

How the hell did I get here?

The plane shook.

Oh God.

<><><><><><><>

"Huh."

Jared huffed as he got his first glimpse of the Harare International Airport.

"What's wrong?" J.D. asked as he glanced around for signs - surprisingly most all of them in English - towards their baggage.

"Just, I dunno."

His professor smiled. "Thought all airports looked the same, huh?"

Jared shrugged.

"You just wait, Jared," the older man replied as he started following the other disembarking passengers. He gestured around himself. "All of this is tamer than anything you'll see in the next few days. You'll be wishing you were someplace as normal as this."

'Normal' was not a word Jared would have used.

"I'll be fine," he muttered, slightly affronted that J.D. expected him to freak out fairly soon. His professor laughed and just motioned for Jared to follow. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder, silently thankful that J.D. had been too tired to catalogue his myriad of nervous habits on the plane.

Glancing out the terminal's windows, if it could even be called a terminal, Jared stopped for a moment and watched as the sun started to set - turning the sky amber and gold. He couldn't help but think for a moment that he might as well have been home in San Antonio, watching the Texas sunset before heading out to a bar with his friends.

But J.D.'s yell across the crowds, and the all the languages being spoken around him which Jared could never expect to identify, brought him back to his senses. Catching up with his professor, Jared shook his head and tried to imagine what Harare would look like outside these walls.

<><><><><><><>

Matabeleland North Province, Central Zimbabwe

Jensen Ackles watched the same sunset as Jared Padalecki.

The only difference was the view. In Harare, halfway across the country, Jared would watch the sunset illuminate rickety flea market stalls and concrete city buildings. Here in the Zimbabwean countryside the view was magnificent - reds and golds as far as the eye could see across Jensen's family's farmland. Most of the farm's buildings and his family's house were behind him, leaving nothing to obstruct his vista.

He'd missed these sunsets while abroad, simple and frequent as they were. He hadn't seen many in North Carolina, too busy studying that the hours flew by. Even if the library hadn't been his second home, Jensen knew the sunsets there couldn't have been this amazing.

The countryside was quiet and Jensen was tempted to stay out here as long as he could, but there was always more work to be done. Growing up, he'd been sure farming was all manual labor and simple satisfaction of a day's hard work. His father had been smart enough to put Jensen's talents to use when he returned from Duke University - a business degree not something to be wasted in the fields.

There was no shortage of desk work for the Ackles' large commercial tobacco farm and Jensen happened to be very good at what he did, grateful for his father's constant teachings and advice.

This wasn't where he'd seen himself ending up after college, but some things were more important than Jensen's aspirations.

It was much darker when he finally got up and made his way back to the houses. Tomorrow would be hectic enough; his father was hosting an American journalist friend and guests were always a big deal for the Ackles.

<><><><><><><>

June 13, 1997

Jared woke up early, something he was terrible at but couldn't help today. The combination of the strange room and the excitement still running rampant in his head made it impossible to go back to sleep. He guessed J.D. was still asleep in the next room. If he could manage on the noisy plane, then a bare hotel room shouldn't be a problem.

After staring at the cracked ceiling for close to an hour, he got out of bed, his spine and muscles protesting each movement. A day of air travel, a harrowing car ride from the airport, and a rag thin mattress were an unfortunate combination. Jared had been mildly surprised that he fit in the hotel's beds.

A few hours later after a barely effective shower and an interesting, but fairly decent breakfast, Jared was in a modified utility vehicle with J.D., being driven out of Harare. As soon as they were out of the city's center the view changed drastically.

In the heart of Harare, Zimbabwe's capital, the scenery was as foreign to Jared as bouillabaisse, but there were more than enough hints and examples of Western culture everywhere. Modern corporate buildings, mobile phones, western businesses, Mercedes sedans - albeit with darkly tinted windows. Even the hotel could have easily passed for one of those nameless inns in America's heartland if you didn't realize the culture shock waiting outside.

But now, with fewer and fewer modern buildings and less that Jared could recognize, the true reality of where he was hit him. The streets became more dusty and rough. Groups of people stood and sat in groups along the curbs and on street corners. There was more bare concrete here on the outskirts; less glass and gleaming metal that were the trademarks of modernized cities. Alleyways and open spaces were filled with shacks. Most everything looked dry and weathered, a yellow-ochre dust covering roofs and streets.

If Jared was honest with himself, this is what he'd expected to find all along, what came to mind first when he heard Africa. He couldn't look away from the windows, rolled down for lack of air conditioning and mild weather, and he was sure he'd be covered in the yellow dust before their trip was over.

J.D. kept mostly silent as their driver, someone sent by the family they'd be staying with, Jared had been told, navigated the tight streets and narrowly avoided pedestrians.

The scenery stayed the same for miles outside of Harare and Jared was too enthralled to add anything to the quiet and infrequent conversations between the two other men.

Jared wasn't aware he'd nodded off until he woke up to a completely different vista. For all he knew he'd gone to sleep in Africa and woken up in Nebraska - there was farmland all around him. The bumping and jostling of the vehicle on the barely paved road must have been what woke him.

"Not much going on for most of these farms right now."

Crap, J.D. was talking to him. A short grunt told his professor he was listening.

"It's fall here, and going on winter, you realize, so most of these tobacco farms are busy with their post-harvest business and dealings. Selling their yields and preparing fields for the next season, unless they're planting winter crops."

Tobacco farm, right. Like the one they'd be staying at.

"Aren't we going to be bothering them, then?"

J.D. shook his head. "No, Alan's run that place for years. He knows what he's doing. His sons run a good deal of the business for him too, Josh and Jensen. We shouldn't really be in the way once we're there. Speaking of that," J.D. addressed their driver, "how far out are we, Mike?"

"Probably a few hours yet," Mike, the hearty Zimbabwean, guessed. "Have to travel where the roads are - makes it longer than it should be."

Jared nodded in the backseat, dreading the next few hours. He'd never been a very good road tripper - too impatient for stationary travel.

J.D. was no longer talking and Mike didn't appear to be interested in further chit chat. Relieved for that at least, Jared dug out his CD player and let Dave Matthews provide the soundtrack for the remainder of the ride.

<><><><><><><>

Jensen's father hadn't told him what to expect from their guests. He'd never met J.D. Morgan, but he'd pictured a stuffy and impatient type of man from what he remembered of his college professors. On the contrary, J.D. was more like Alan Ackles - laid back and bursting with stories. His father and J.D. and been talking up a storm since he'd arrived half an hour ago. Their deep voices and laughter had drawn Jensen from his office.

If J.D. was a surprise then Jensen would call Jared an electric shock. He stood taller than Jensen with eyes the color of prairie grass and shaggy brown hair that was far too long for Jensen's own taste. He hadn't had a chance to imagine what J.D.'s research assistant would be like, but if he'd had this would not have been the picture he came up with. Guys looking like Jared Padasomething ­(Jensen couldn't be blamed for zoning out during introductions) didn't show up in Africa, at his doorstep, every day.

Or ever.

Shit.

Just what Jensen needed this winter, an enormous distraction. He'd made peace long ago that his attraction to other men was not just a college 'phase', but in Zimbabwe the pickings were nonexistent and therefore a non-issue. With a tall, dark, handsome and are-you-fucking-serious college kid in his house, Jensen would have to get a grip. Maybe Jared would largely ignore him in favor of trailing J.D. around all the time. Wasn't that what assistants did?

"Hey."

So much for not zoning out again.

Jared stood alone in the room with Jensen; J.D. and Alan Ackles had disappeared. Apparently Jared wasn't tagging along after his professor just yet.

"It's Jensen, right?" Jared had what Jensen assumed was a Texas accent, drawled vowels and a casual manner.

"Right, my brother Josh won't be back around here for several weeks."

"Ah." Jared didn't really sound interested but Jensen's brain wasn't firing on all cylinders either so he didn't mind. The kid looked awkwardly around the room. "I think Mike took all my stuff to a room, but I have no idea where he went. Mind showing me around?"

"I think I can manage a tour," Jensen said, relieved that his head was catching up with current events. "And we can figure out where my dad is putting you up. I have no idea - planning like that is best left to my dad and sister."

Jared smiled at that, a big goofy smile that awed Jensen. He motioned for Jared to follow him out of the hall.

It was going to be a long winter.

<><><><><><><>

Jared flopped down on the double bed and nearly groaned with pleasure. The firm mattress, thick and comfortable, called to his aching limbs. He wanted nothing more than sleep but his mind was racing.

The end of the car ride had been a blessed relief, Mike turning the vehicle onto a long drive lined with low scrub vegetation. There had been nothing but open land for hours, some areas greener than others. The cluster of buildings representing the Ackles' property appeared at the end of the drive. Jared had seen some individuals moving in and out of some of the more commercial looking buildings but as J.D. had said, there was no major flurry of activity as Jared might have expected.

Alan Ackles had greeted them when they entered the large ranch style house. He was J.D.'s age, dressed in worn jeans and a clean, tan button down shirt. The two older men had immediately started talking after a welcoming bear hug, excited to catch up. Jared had stood there awkwardly, not really listening, until a younger man entered; one of Ackles' sons from the way he closely resembled J.D.'s old friend.

After Alan had made the necessary introductions he and J.D. were off and yammering again. Jared rolled his eyes and focused on Jensen Ackles. The other man hadn't said anything yet; he just stood there looking amused at his father's and J.D.'s enthusiastic hand gestures.

Lying on his bed now, Jared closed his eyes and recalled their uncomfortable first exchange; Jared had been afraid that anything out of his mouth would only sound like gibberish. It had been a wild few days, and throwing someone like Jensen into the mix only made his mind spin even more out of control.

The 'tour' Jensen had taken him on was more a feat of finding Jared's things which, to even Jensen's surprise, had been taken to Josh Ackles' room in a separate, smaller ranch home. According to his new housemate, Josh was away on business and wouldn't be back until August.

There hadn't been much time for more conversation as they made their way back to the main house for dinner, an event dominated by sensational stories from Jared's professor and Jensen's father. It did serve to break the ice, however, the stories giving the two young men ideal blackmail material to use against their elders should the occasions ever arise.

He'd come back to his room alone, Jensen excusing himself after dinner to finish up some work. Jared figured he'd hear Jensen come in if he was even still awake later. Now the day just replayed in Jared's head. He thought about Jensen; he'd met and slept with several very attractive men already in his college experience, but their faces faded compared to his new acquaintance.

Jensen was gorgeous, that couldn't be ignored; Jared hadn't figured on meeting anyone like that this summer, but the other man was also a complete mystery - something Jared wasn't really used to. He fully intended to change that, though. Regardless of how Jensen felt in the matter, Jared's curiosity was very much piqued. And three months was a long time. He was bound to learn so much before he went back to Texas.

<><><><><><><>

June 28, 1997

In his typical 'office' attire, a long sleeved t-shirt and old basketball shorts, Jensen sat in the large, cluttered office that he technically shared with his father.

As the common family joke went, the office belonged to Jensen but the clutter belonged to Alan. His father was rarely in the office, preferring hands-on activities, as Jensen's older brother did. It left the majority of the paperwork to Jensen, but he didn't mind all that much. It was enough to keep him busy and it wasn't as if a social life was possible here. He appreciated all the work and he was good at it - his business degree more than coming in handy. It also kept his mind off all the things he could have been doing if...well, best not to think about it.

It had been a little over two weeks since the Americans had arrived, but Jensen had barely seen either of the men since that first night. J.D. and Jared had been given a crash course on commercial tobacco farming in Zimbabwe - more for Jared's benefit than J.D.'s, he imagined.

Jensen preferred to follow a more rigid schedule than his father - meaning that he had a schedule. Alan Ackles worked on his own time. The farm and its operations were his entire life but he functioned best doing things in the order he saw fit, leading his American friend and guest around at all hours and stopping for drawn out discussions in random locations. Two days ago Jensen had walked in on the three men talking over recent governmental changes in the kitchen while Alan stood at the sink washing things for dinner.

Jared had looked up as he entered the room quietly, his eyes meeting Jensen's. The younger man had given him a quick smile as Jensen grabbed a drink before leaving the room.

Jensen regretted that he hadn't spent time with Jared, or even J.D., but the young man was eager with his research - there whenever he was needed. He'd caught Jared several times late at night in the small den of the siblings' house. His large frame would be hunched over books and newspapers from Alan's small library. They'd exchanged a few words but Jensen hated disturbing people and had never stayed for long.

He was certain Jared would search him out at some point; the other man's small but genuine smiles led Jensen to believe that Jared truly was interested in getting to know him.

Heavy footsteps brought Jensen back to the present and he sat up straighter as his door opened, revealing a hassled looking Jared. He couldn't help but laugh softly as the other man made a dramatic display of huffing, sighing, and flopping down in one of the empty chairs. Another exasperated groan and Jensen gave in.

“All right, I'll bite. What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Jensen really laughed at that and Jared's expression cracked into a smile.

“Fine. I think I need a break.” Jared paused as Jensen stared and gestured to all of the papers on his desk.

“Not from 'working',” he motioned. “It's been a crazy few weeks for me and I haven't really had a chance to just stop, you know?”

“I know?”

“Jen, I know you don't work all the time,” Jared surprised him by using the shortened version of his name, one normally only used by his father and siblings. “What can you do around here for fun?”

“Go running or something.” The annoyed look that flashed across Jared's face nearly made Jensen crack a smile, but he kept his poker face.

“Running...”

“I hear it's fun," he shot back, the straight face remaining.

“I hear people on acid think running in front of oncoming traffic is fun but you don't see me trying that.”

“There's no traffic around here.”

Jared just gaped at him and Jensen broke after a few seconds of silence. The younger man started laughing along with him.

“Jesus, I thought you were serious for a minute, dude.”

“Dude?”

“Dude.”

“Are you a surfer or something?” Jensen asked, confused, while Jared looked at him with wonder, as if he were studying an alien life form.

“Dude!”

Jensen huffed and glared at the amusement on Jared's face.

“Well, I still have work to do, so if you'll excuse me...”

“Jensen! Chill out!”

He couldn't believe his ears.

“Chill out?” Jensen started laughing, and now Jared was the one who looked confused. “I don't think anyone's told me to 'chill out' in years!”

“Surprising.” Jared sounded surly.

“Who around here would say that to me? My dad? My absent brother and sister?” He smiled. “I don't think I've heard that since Duke.”

Jared still didn't look thrilled. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Jared." Jensen leaned back. "It was just unexpected - and funny," he added.

The younger man's expression shifted quickly again - Jensen was beginning to notice Jared's short attention span - and he was looking earnestly at Jensen.

"So seriously, I don't think I've studied and read this much since history class. I have to get out and do something. Just not running!" He appended quickly.

"You could sit there and watch me work. I still have plenty to do." Jensen was smirking but Jared didn't seem impressed by the suggestion. "Sorry. All right, no sitting and no running."

His eyes were drawn to Jared's leg; his right was bouncing up and down as if he were barely able to stay sitting still in his chair. The quick motions gave Jensen a brilliant idea and he wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it immediately.

"How about a game of one-on-one?"

"One-on-one on what?"

Jensen got up, stretching as he straightened.

"I'll show you."

Twenty minutes later Jensen had forgotten all about his unfinished work.

Outside on the Ackles' makeshift basketball court, both men were already sweating from playing hard and goofing off in equal measure. The 'court' was more of a concrete slab, half the size of the street courts Jensen remembered from North Carolina. Part of an old driveway that was no longer used, Josh and Jensen had begged their dad to install a basketball hoop when they were younger - Michael Jordan fever in full effect for both kids.

Jensen hadn't played in a while, especially with his brother gone, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. He knew Jared was enjoying himself - the constant banter and instant rivalry between them was something Jensen hadn't experienced in so long. He made a valiant grab for the ball, which had seen better days, but missed. Jared yelled triumphantly as he passed Jensen and made a clean shot. Jensen put his hands on his knees to catch his breath and listened to Jared dribble the ball around him; it was the only sound Jensen could hear besides his breathing.

"Tired, old man?"

"Shut up."

"Nice come back." Jared dribbled some more and made another perfect basket. "Maybe a game of P.I.G. is more your speed."

"I said shut up, it's been a while."

Jared seemed to agree that it was time for a short break. He flopped down on the court and let the ball roll away from him. Jensen followed his example and sat down across from the sprawled out man.

"Guessing you play a lot back home," he began, his breathing much calmer.

"Only for fun. People always tell me I have the height to be a great player, but I never really got into basketball the way my coaches wanted me to." He paused, taking in the scenery - the African plains were a strange view for a simple game of one-on-one. "During high school, I just stopped wanting to play, but I can still hold my own."

"So I see," Jensen conceded.

"Seems like you might have played at one time or another," the younger man added, his eyes focused now on Jensen. "Just a little out of practice."

"I don't have anyone to play with if I wanted to, besides Josh. I played a bit at Duke, but just I.M. and a little on the weekends for fun."

"Hah, so you do know how to have fun!"

Jensen shot him a look and got back on his feet. "I hope you've had your fun then, because that was just a warm up for me."

Jared smiled at him, another of those bright, genuine ones, and Jensen lost himself for a moment in its warmth. Then he shook his head, silently telling himself to get a grip.

It was just a smile.

<><><><><><><>

July 3, 1997

"Thank god, Jen. I was beginning to get bored with winning every night."

Jared yelled from where he was laid out comfortably on the larger of the two couches in Jensen's den. They'd just finished another basketball game - now becoming a habit for the two of them when the calls of research and paperwork died down.

Or when Jared got bored. Or restless.

He'd wind up pestering Jensen in his office until the other man gave in and they'd wander out to the court, Jared talking a mile a minute the entire time. He wasn't exactly sure why he couldn't shut up around Jensen, especially when he adored hearing the quieter man speak.

In their games, Jared would hardly let the older man get a word in, a combination of nerves and energy severing the connection between brain and mouth. Jared hoped he made up for it during what was fast becoming another habit - sharing drinks together in the den on the nights when Jared wasn't busy with J.D. or didn't have to get up early in the morning. Tonight, his professor and Alan Ackles were away from the farm for the night, and Jared was looking forward to sleeping in the next day.

Jensen appeared in the room with a beat up cooler filled with ice and a bottled beer Jared had never heard of. He took the one Jensen offered him and watched the other man take his place on the smaller sofa.

"I told you I'd beat you one of these nights, not counting the time you let me win," Jensen said before taking a long draw off the beer bottle.

"How do you know I didn't just let you win tonight?" Jared took his own sip of beer, the flavor different from any bottle of Budweiser or the like he'd ever had.

"Don't start,” the older man shot back curtly, but Jared could see the hint of a smile at the corner of Jensen's mouth. He decided not to push it.

There were a few minutes of quiet as each man drank their beer, simply relaxing. Jared was beginning to love the evenings here, despite the routine being the same. He still spent the majority of the day with J.D., though less than he had during his first couple of weeks, helping the older man with his research, driving out with J.D., Mike, and Alan to surrounding properties to interview other farm owners, and reading up on anything that caught his attention.

His 'work' time had been spent mainly on historical research, filling in the gaps in both J.D.'s and his own knowledge. Jared felt he could probably pass any exam on Zimbabwean history and government, colonial and modern. It all interested him, but he liked the chances he got to learn about the Ackles family in more depth.

From Alan, with a little help from Jensen, Jared heard of Alan's father, an English colonist who'd come with his parents to Zimbabwe, then still known as Rhodesia. Here, he learned a trade and saved to buy his own land, legally and fairly, one day. Alan Ackles had been raised on this farm, teaching the trade to his own children. But where Alan had known he would inherit the commercial farm from his father, Jensen and Josh Ackles were not guaranteed the same.

But as the afternoons wore on, Jared found himself increasingly looking forward to seeing Jensen. Their basketball games were gradually becoming more and more intense as Jensen's once rusty skills were honed. Once their competitiveness wore out, they'd sit on the court and watch the sun set over the fields. Jensen had insisted over a week ago that Jared stay outside with him to see the sunset, claiming it was unlike anything Jared would have seen in Texas. He refrained from commenting on that, well aware that he'd seen some amazing views back home, but Jensen had been partially right. There was something about watching the sun go down here, filled with the knowledge of where exactly on the Earth he was and who he was sitting next to. They'd talk quietly as the sky got darker and darker, the orange light fading around them before they'd stand up and make their way inside.

Relaxing now with Jensen, like this, was Jared's favorite part of their time together. At first, Jensen's personality had remained subdued, seemingly content to let Jared do all the talking. Bit by bit, to Jared's pleasure, he'd become much more open and the two men could stay up for hours just talking. Sometimes it would be 'easy chatting'; Jensen's years at Duke, or Jared's childhood growing up in Texas. Other times their conversations were more serious. Jensen had talked about his fears for the future of his family's property and of the things he already knew his government was doing in the name of industry and change.

Tonight, the fare seemed to be lighter as Jensen started to talk about his younger sister, Mackenzie, who was currently at the University of Florida.

"She says she wants to be a doctor, and I imagine she'll go through the same struggles that Josh and I did," he was saying.

Jared knew he was referring to the fact that both of Alan Ackles' sons had tried to stay in the United States after they'd graduated, each unwilling to return to the life they'd known since they were born. Jared also knew, without Jensen saying, that it had been much harder on Jensen than on Josh. He kept meaning to ask, but Jared was sure that his new friend still struggled with the way his life had turned out - ending up back here, working for his father.

Children growing up to work for their parents wasn't an uncommon story in life, but Jared sensed that Jensen's predicament was wholly different. He didn't know Jensen's motivations but he was determined to be there, listening if it was ever brought up.

"She always sounds so happy when I talk to her," Jensen continued. "Everything she says to me sounds so much like what I'd always tell Josh when I was at Duke."

"You know exactly what she's going through, and it can't be easy," Jared said quietly. Jensen shook his head, and then started relaying more of his most recent conversation with his baby sister.

Jared felt a quick pang of homesickness - talk of Mackenzie and Josh inevitably reminded him of his own family in Texas. He let the other man's voice lull him away from the negative emotions. He couldn't get enough of Jensen's quiet accent. It was unlike anything he'd heard before and it affected him more than the deepest Southern drawl ever could.

Jensen's voice was soothing, and Jared closed his eyes. He couldn't place the accent. There were subtle hints of an English heritage and a slight formality to his speech that time in the U.S. hadn't erased, for which Jared was grateful. There were times he wished he had a tape recorder so that he could hear Jensen's voice whenever he liked, but he made due with the time they spent together.

Eventually, the older man's voice quieted. Jared opened his eyes and saw that Jensen had actually fallen asleep on the sofa; his beer bottle fortunately empty. He smiled to himself and stood, picking up the bottle and throwing it in the trash along with his own. He couldn't resist just watching Jensen sleep for a few minutes. The man looked completely relaxed - the long game they'd played tonight, combined with the beer had done Jensen in. It wouldn't be the first time one of them had fallen asleep there.

A long yawn told Jared that he wouldn't be too far behind.

"I guess that's g'night, Jen," he said very softly as he turned off the light in the den and left the room.


[ Part Two ]