The Luck of Job Part 1

[dime_liora]

Babe, there's something tragic about you
Something so magic about you
Don't you agree?

Babe, there's something lonesome about you
Something so wholesome about you
Get closer to me

No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony
No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword
Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Babe, there's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this

Where to begin

Babe, there's something broken about this
But I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me
A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword
Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

“God and the devil walk into a bar-“

“You can’t start it that way”

“Of course I can. I can start it any way I want.”

“No. You can’t start it that way. You can’t start a new gospel with a joke.”

“It’s not a joke. It’s the facts. God and the devil walked into a bar.”

“It sounds like a joke.”

“Well it’s not.”

“Ok, even if it’s not a joke it’s not exactly a hundred percent factual is it? People will read that and think you mean the actual devil.”

“I do mean the actual devil.”

“No, Lucifer, cast down, the original devil. Which he isn’t.”

“This is why you’re not allowed to join softball games.”

“I’m not good at them anyway. Fix it.”

“Fine. God and the 179^th soul to hold the title of devil, once known as Jensen Ackles, walk into a bar. Are you happy now?”

“I’m never happy.”

“It figures.”


----

God and the 179^th soul to hold the title of devil, once known as Jensen Ackles, walk into a bar. Which is, as previously stated, not a joke but a statement of factual events. To be specific the events that started a new gospel, commissioned by God himself and written by the Angel Hesediel with editorial help from the angel Dumah.

The bar itself was nothing special. A local spot, small but well established and frequented with a variety of patrons. The jukebox was playing something a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll, and Wendy was flying drink orders out to everyone who asked. There were decorations left over from the video game themed night that had come before, and the only patron that seemed annoyed by this was a churlish doctor seated at the bar who had complaints about everything else as well.

Otherwise, it was a quiet Wednesday night and nobody seemed to be paying too much attention to anyone else. Not that they would have noticed the two that had just walked through the door.

Just as they wanted it.

“What are we doing here? You don’t drink.”

God turned to the devil and smiled.

“I want to suggest a wager.”

And just like that, God flummoxed the devil.

“A…bet. You asked me to meet you in a San Antonio bar to make a bet? Are you secretly a Spurs fan?”

God laughed at that, his eyes panning around the bar before settling on a table in the corner.

“Do you see that young man? In the scrubs?”

The devil lifted one eyebrow, following God’s line of sight before nodding once.





“Yes. I see him.”

“What do you see?”

The devil tilted his head, tongue wetting his lips briefly before he shrugged.

“One of yours. Very much one of yours. Jared Tristan Padalecki, age twenty-seven, son to Gerry and Sherri, brother to Megan and Jeff. Nurse anesthetist at Christus across the street, upstanding community member, congregant at-“

“No. I don’t want to know his statistics Jensen, I want to know what you see.”

“A man. A believer. Why?”

“I want you to go talk to him. Pretend to be human again and simply strike up a conversation.”

“No offense to your grand ineffableness, but no. That’s stupid.”

God sat very still for what, for most people, would seem far too long a time to be comfortable.

“Not many would call me stupid.”

“Not many are already the king of Hell and have no other place to be sent to be punished. Speaking of which, I have a job to do and this is taking up a lot of time I could be doing it.”

God snorted, eyes still locked on Jared as he drank his beer and flipped pages in his book.

“It runs itself, you and I both know that, and if you really think I can’t punish you further you are a fool. Something I have never thought of you.”

The devil didn’t let his gaze waver either, although he looked slightly less confident than he did a moment before.

“So you want me to go over there and talk to him? Why? He can’t be converted. I have no leverage and no desire. He’s one of yours.”

“No conversions. No seduction. Just a conversation Jensen. Consider it a work approved break.”

And here the devil gave God a very dry look, because he was not known for taking or enjoying breaks.  But, in the end, he walked over to the small table and joined Jared Padalecki because that was what God wanted. Even the devil must follow some commands.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Jared looked up, eyes bright and joyful, and he moved the book from the seat beside him and shuffled his own chair a length over to give the devil more room.

“Now there is. Howdy. Jared Padalecki.”

One big hand was extended, and the devil took it easily and shook it. Jared’s smile got brighter as he lifted his beer bottle and clinked the neck of it against the one that was suddenly sitting in the devil’s hand.

“Jensen Ackles. Howdy and thanks.”

Jared marked the page in his book with a cocktail napkin and looked Jensen up and down.

“I don’t recognize you. Have you been around here before?”

The devil tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow of the beer, enjoying the way the flavor burst on his tongue. The amount of hedonism he actually had time to take part in these days was quite slim.

“No, this is my first time. Are you a regular?”

Jared smiled brighter at that, eyes roaming the interior of the bar before coming back to settle on the devil.

“I’ve been coming here since it was called the Stinkery. Which was a good name. I mean it didn’t stink we just…just called it that. Yes. Is the answer to your question. I’ve been coming here since I was still in school.”

“A nurse?”

“Yep. Anesthesia. I put people to sleep for a living. Temporarily. You know. Not like vet put to sleep which is much more... Hey, what do you do for a living?”

The devil sipped his beer this time, tasted the lie, old and familiar.

“I’m a salesman. Luxury items mostly. The kind of useless shit you see in Skymall.”

Jared laughed, eyes sparkling, and tapped his beer bottle against the devil’s again.

“I bought a hammock from Skymall once. It was actually really nice. Super overpriced, but nice.”

“That’s what we specialize in. Nice and overpriced things. You like your job?”

“Yes. A lot of people can’t say that, but I’m kind of blessed in that respect. I have great coworkers, a good track record, and I get to honestly say I work to make people better. What about you? Do you like your job?”

The devil picked at the peeling edge of his beer’s label.

“Sure. I meet a lot of interesting people. Go to a lot of interesting places. And I learn something new every day.”

“What kind of things do you learn?”

His lips pursed briefly.

“All sorts of things. Nifty little bits of trivia about local life in different towns. The enduring and unending capacity of humans for pettiness and greed. That sort of thing.”

Now Jared’s smile dimmed a bit, and the light in his eyes changed in flavor and intensity.

“I don’t think that’s unending.”

“Most of your interactions are with people who are falling asleep. They’re afraid of their future, of what could go wrong in surgery, and they’re pretending to be good in the hopes that it will balance the scales. Deathbed conversions are still considered powerful.”

“Dude! That’s kinda fucking generalized don’t you think?”

The devil tipped his beer back and finished it off. How long was a conversation?

“I don’t think so. It’s based off long experimentation and data collection. There’s a lot of logic backing it up.”

The devil expected Jared, a good human being, to end it right there. Jared surprised him by laughing.

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re kinda fucking dark?”

“Yeah. Quite a few people actually.”

Jared leaned in.

“Did somebody take your candy when you were a baby?”

The devil huffed, fingers tightening on the now empty bottle.

“No. I’m just saying I’ve been everywhere and seen everything. The bad far outweighs the good when it comes to humanity. People are naturally, intrinsically geared towards doing bad things.”

At that Jared lifted a finger, waving it along with his beer bottle, eyes bright and sweet again.

“Ah. Yes. But you forget, humans have something that combats that.”

“Oh really? And what’s that?”

“Xboxes.”

And for the first time in a hundred and nine years the devil laughed.

And that, as the human writers say, was the beginning of the end.


----


“What do you think now?”

And Jensen is tempted, very tempted, to walk away. God looks smug, and he hates when God is smug. Hates it. To be fair Jensen feels honestly that with how powerful God is being smug is really a dick move, because honestly if the guy really knows everything as it was and will be why is it a surprise when he’s right?

It was a break, and Jensen did enjoy it. He enjoyed laughing, which he never really thought he’d do again once his new job started, and he enjoyed Jared. When it came to presiding over the Pit Jensen had found that the two things he could count on were terrible atmosphere and worse company. Every now and then there would be a demon that didn’t bother him much, but overall being devil meant both capturing new souls and babysitting demons galore.

Jensen spent years getting used to the idea that demons could be irresponsible children. He’d been raised to see them as monsters, bad to the bone, ultimately evil, limitlessly sly monsters. Instead in his first three weeks he had come up against an army of irresponsible and ridiculously ill prepared demons who managed to bungle half of the tasks they were given. On his second day as devil one of the bastards had lost the keys to the gates of Hell. Which, for a reason Jensen still didn’t understand, were the only copies.

That mess had taken forever to sort out.

On top of that there was an open door policy in Hell, and Jensen spent half his time listening to the complaints of lesser demons, and every now and then souls that thought they didn’t deserve to be there. Mix that with his duties above ground tempting assholes into being bigger assholes and you had a recipe for workplace stress unlike any other.

But Jensen took his job seriously. He believed in it. After all, once commissioned you were in until the end of the contract, and no one had ever clearly explained how that happened. Jensen knew it was possible, as he was aware that there were a number of devils before him, but every time he tried to get clarification they simply blew him off.

So Jensen didn’t get a lot of breaks, and he didn’t ask for them.  He was too worried about the mess that would be waiting for him when he returned.

“I think he’s very charming. Congratulations on having him on your side.”

God’s face settled further into smug, and Jensen wondered what would happen if he pretended there was a Pit related emergency that he had to go handle immediately.

“He is rather wonderful isn’t he? You know he also works with animal charities and donates money regularly to homeless shelters?”

Jensen felt the muscle under his eye twitch, and he tried hard to keep a good poker face.

“Yes. He’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“He’s a good man. Kind. Thoughtful. Incorruptible.”

“Yes. I get it. You have a great follower. Wonderful.”

Jensen felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his muscles go tight. This was exactly the tone God had had when he originally enlisted Jensen to be the devil. Although, to be fair, when that happened Jensen had thought God was a barber and had talked a lot more than he should have.

“So wonderful that I feel like he could not be improved upon at all.”

“Unless humans are suddenly allowed to be perfect there’s something he can improve on.”

God turned then, putting his attention fully on Jensen, and the victorious look on his face told Jensen that this was his simple haircut turned eternity of devilhood all over again.

“So you think that he’s not as perfect as he seems.”

“I think. What is your angle?”

“I want to make a bet with you.”

And suddenly Jensen remembered how this strange night started.

“No. What? No.”

“I have a wager, and I think you’ll agree.”

“I really won’t. I don’t have time for this. I can’t delegate like you.”

“If you win I’ll free you from your contract.”

Jensen felt his hand tighten into a fist, his fingers going instantly numb with the force of it. He could hear something creak in his neck as he turned his head to look at God.

“What?”

“If you win the bet I will free you from your contract. No more unruly demons, complaining souls, hellfire or brimstone. If you win you are free and I will pick a new devil. Are you interested now?”

He didn’t even have to consider it.

“What’s the bet?”



-----



Sariel sat in the throne room, little feet dangling over the arm of the chair and eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jensen knocked her ankles hard enough to turn her sideways and cause her big grey eyes to land on him with distaste.

“Get up. We have a problem.”

The former angel lifted one eyebrow, mouth curling and fingers tapping on the arm of his throne. A thing that probably should bother Jensen more than it did. Then again, she was the only one that he could even vaguely trust to run his kingdom when he was gone.

“Is the problem your attitude? Because I have been here all day dealing with your job. A little thanks wouldn’t be out of order.”

“Thanks? You’re the second in command. This is your job. Has been since the Fall.”

“And since the Fall no one has ever thanked me.”

“Well that’s not changing now. Get up.”

She muttered darkly while rising, and Jensen took her spot on the uncomfortable throne. He hated this chair.

“Have I mentioned lately that you used to be more fun? Because you did.”

If that was true Jensen couldn’t remember, and with the fallen angels it was always hard to tell what was true or not. God had put him in charge, but Jensen was eons younger than any of them and the bitterness that came with following a younger former human was not something most of them hid. On top of being actually competent, Sariel was typically something bordering friendly.

“God gave me the exit clause.”

Her eyes went comically wide, and Jensen didn’t even bother to hide the snort. In response the angel knocked his ankle cruelly into the metal of the throne and watched as he hissed and gripped the delicate bone.

“What is it?”

Jensen would never forgive God for leaving him with human pain. It was ridiculous to have a devil that could crack his funny bone and then have to shake it off.

“A bet. A really simple, childish, stupid bet. An incredibly simple, childish, stupid bet. One he’s done before which I totally should have realized was a good way to get out of this fucking contract.”

“You’re making less sense than Arakibal. And that’s a feat. Pull it together fearless leader.”

“Job.”

The fallen angel blinked, once, twice, and then tilted her head slowly and surely to the right.

“Job?”

“Job. He is reenacting Job. And if I win I get out of Hell. I get away from every fucking lousy damned soul and all the idiot demons and lunatic fallen angels and this goddamn smell.”

If she was offended that Jensen lumped her in with the rest of his problems she didn’t say it.

“Job? As in the Righteous Man Job? Who was tested on every level and won the test? Never turned from God? Job?”

Jensen stopped. Felt his lips thin.

He had, to be fair, never really read the Bible.

Had fucking Job won?

“Do we have a Bible down here?”

Her response was simply a look that made Jensen feel three inches tall and dressed in his mother’s underwear.

“Ok. So step one, you’re my lackey. Get me a Bible.”

Her laughter shook the rafters of the throne room.


-----







“Steps covered in butter? What the fuck are-why? Why would he want steps covered in butter? How is that a better life?”

The man on the rack, a serial adulterer and a fan of dog fighting in life, groaned in confusion and pain. Sariel stood before him, head tilted again in consideration this time as she held his intestines in her hands.

“It’s probably a metaphor. I don’t know Lord. The writers of those books took a lot of hallucinogens.”

“This is sacred scripture. Isn’t it accurate?”

Sariel twisted her hands and the man on the rack screamed hideously and tried to pull back before realizing his mistake.

“No. That is human garbage. For example, it says that I fell teaching men about the moon. What sort of sense does that make? One of us is listed as being damned for talking about makeup. Do you, in your extensive experience with him, believe that God gives a shit about makeup?”

And Jensen had no good retort to that. Instead he found himself flipping more pages and studying more and more of the scripture as Sariel finished her work and then banished the soul back to its cage. He looked back up in time to see her scrubbing her delicate looking little hands.

“So. God wins after he makes Job feel like shit?”

“Is that what it says?”

“Yes it-why are you asking me? Weren’t you around back then?”

Sariel’s mouth curled into something like a smile, and she dropped her hand towel on the ground carelessly and shrugged.

“Yes and no. I was there. I saw many things and heard many more. But I was only assisting the devil who persecuted Job. And I wasn’t even Earthside when God laid down the law about complaining.”

Jensen hated that she was going to make him ask for it. He hated even more that it looked like she wasn’t going to be picking that towel up anytime soon. Hell was cluttered and dirty enough.

“What actually happened Sariel?”

And then the fallen angel was leaning against him, wings brushing his back and shoulder pressed firmly into his elbow.

“Lord Jensen, I would like very much to have an Earthside pass. You know I haven’t had one in many many years. I think it would only be fair, for assisting you so well and faithfully, that I get a day or twenty-eight off.”

Jensen thought of what his life would be like without his right hand for a month.

Then he thought of what it would be like to hand over the keys to Hell and hightail it out of here like his predecessor.

“Done.”

Sariel’s face lit up, grey eyes going luminous and silver, and she shook Jensen’s hand before skipping off in the direction of the palace.

Jensen, a being of infinitely more decorum if not age, followed behind. Let her lead him up the stairs, into the grand library, and to a huge book that she lifted with no issues and opened to exactly the page she wanted.

Which made him question several things about both the fallen angel and the situation at hand.

“Here it is. Job. That was the 13^th devil, a man once named Hezekiah. He was devil for forty-eight years.”

It took everything in Jensen not to scream. Forty-eight? Forty-eight lousy years? If Jensen had known he could have been out of here in under a hundred he would have taken God up on more social calls.

“So if he lost the bet how did he get out of the deal with God?”

Pages flipped, and she pointed to an elaborate portrait of a hunch-backed man walking out of the gates of Hell.

“See? There’s him leaving. That little shadow you see in the corner there is Jacob, the 14^th devil, who reigned for three hundred and five years before his contract was deemed finished.”

“You skipped a bit.”

She looked up, eyebrow lifted again, and then put on an innocent mask that could not have fooled the dimmest bulb on the planet.

“Did I? I don’t remember that. So, anyway, God came down here to Hell and spoke with Hezekiah about a way out. He said that he would like to set up a wager with Hezekiah to test a righteous man. That at the end of it if Hezekiah could turn the righteous man than he would win the bet, but if he couldn’t then he would stay the devil. Hezekiah was a very lousy devil, not nearly as organized or efficient as you, and kinda hideous. Actually, now that I think about it, he may be the reason everybody thinks you’re going to be hideous. After all his predecessors were all very attractive and-“

“Sariel!”

She looked up from the book, surprise honest this time.

“Focus.”

“Oh. Yes. Anyway. They started the bet, and Hezekiah began plaguing Job. He took his lands, his money, his farm animals, and his family. Then he took his health. So. Literally plagued him I guess. Job suffered every loss imaginable. And then God won and got to have a really great story written about him that basically taught man to stop fucking complaining because it can always get worse. Because God really likes teaching by anecdote.”

“But Hezekiah got out anyway.”

Head tilt. Thoughtful. And then Jensen watched the light bulb come on for her.

“Oh! Yeah! That. Well, see, halfway through Hezekiah started to back out. Said that he couldn’t handle torturing poor Job.”

“A very unusual position for a devil.”

Jensen watched Sariel’s face flicker, an expression he’d never seen crossing it for a brief moment before she settled into something a little bit like dismissal and a little bit like distaste.

“Yes, well, Hezekiah was only half the devil you are. So God changed the deal. If Hezekiah could see it through to the end so that God would get his anecdote then he would get out. And Hezekiah held to the deal and finished the bet. Thus.” She gestured to the image of the hunch-backed devil leaving through the gates again.

“So all I have to do is either win, or promise to hold steady?”

“Looks that way Lord. It’s a win win either way really. You’re way tougher than Hezekiah. I seriously doubt you won’t win.”

Jensen doubted it too.

“Take your Earthside days. When you get back I’ll be free.”

And at that Sariel smiled, face full of honest and open joy. A thing Jensen wasn’t sure he had really seen on her before.

It was a little creepy.

“I’m sure you will.”

With that she disappeared, and Jensen was left alone to stand in his library staring at the true account of Job, and all his predecessors.

Each one ending their interminable contract with a simple bet.


-----


Jared stretched slow and long, listening to his back pop in multiple places as he stood for the first time in four hours. He hadn’t expected the surgery to take that long. Dr. Cortese stepped back and pulled her gloves off, eyes crinkling above her mask in joy at the finished product of all her hard work.

The two of them walked out into the scrub room together, and Jared pulled his mask off and took a deep breath of fresh air before turning the water on to wash his face and hands.

“You still haven’t gotten that sweating under control. You know, with a little snip here and there I can cut those glands out for you and save hundreds of future white shirts and scrubs.”

Jared laughed splashed water in her direction, and then focused on bathing some more in the cool sink.

“You must have missed the part in med school where they explained why sweating is natural and healthy. Lots of people like my sweat. Makes up my distinctive musk.”

Gen rolled her eyes and pulled her own mask off. She joined Jared at the sink and started washing her hands briskly.

“Yeah. Distinctive. Like a skunk.”

“Hey now!”

The head nurse joined them at the sink, laughing and Jared was pretty sure he was going to have to soak both of them before they learned their lesson.

“I’ll have you know many a man and woman has been lured in by smell.”

“Like Pepe LePew?” Gen dodged his next spray and danced out of the scrub room laughing with her head tilted back.

It was easy for her to laugh. They had successfully pulled off yet another serious heart surgery, and that meant Gen was going to head into the waiting room and tell the nervous family members that they were getting their mother back with no complications or issues.

They all lived for that moment.

Jared wouldn’t be joining her this time though. He had an appointment at a bar with his new novel and at least three good IPAs. Maybe six if he felt like taking a cab home. The Safe House was close enough he could leave his car in the secure parking garage tonight and come back for it in the morning when his next shift started.

“You going back to that dive tonight Jared?”

He turned from the sink to see Danneel studying him, her hand discarding a towel in the big bin and eyes considering and suspicious.

“I. Maybe. Why?”

Her lips curled devilishly, and Jared knew instantly that he was going to regret staying behind with her.

“Can I come?”

Yep. Regretting it already.

“Danni. Look. I’m just going to read my book.”

“Uh-huh. Read your book. Alone. In a bar.”

“Yes.”

Victory. Her expression was victory, and Jared felt a cold chill climb down his spine.

“What’s the book about?”

And sure enough, like a magic trick, Jared couldn’t remember.

“It’s a fantasy novel.”

“Oh. That’s descriptive. What else is it about?”

He cast out in his memory to try to dig up the details, but he had just been starting it a few nights ago and he hadn’t really managed to focus on it since then. A thing that Danneel, witch that she was, had somehow figured out.

“Dragons.”

“And knights and wizards? Yeah. Gen and I will see you there Jared.”

She went up on her tiptoes, lips pressing against his cheek, and Jared couldn’t curse at her the way he wanted.

“Ok. See you two there.”



----



Jared was a lucky man. More so than he ever could thank anyone for. He had a good job that allowed him to help people without any fear of it being repetitive or soul-crushing. He had an excellent success rate, and worked in a hospital with doctors that were all devoted to their cause.

He had family that he loved more than anything, and that loved him too. Any time he wanted he could go see his sister or brother and know that they were also doing alright. His mother and father lived close too, and they were both healthy and happy. Every Wednesday they still had family night, and Jared could count on any one of them being there if he needed them.

The shelter was doing amazing, and Jared was getting back some of his free time now that they had a better support staff and a strong donor base. He still went weekly to take time washing and exercising the animals, caring for their pens, and assisting with off-site adoptions.

His own dogs were well-behaved and loving, and greeted him every night when he got home. His neighbors were excellent, his landlord was friendly and responsive about issues, and Jared was one door down from his best friends.

And on the friend front. Well. Jared had plenty of those. He worked with a fair number of them, but he was still in close contact with high school friends, and he never lacked for companionship. Truly, Jared was blessed. He believed that. He wasn’t about to go around preaching to strangers about the goodness of God, but the many joys of his life were example enough of the belief system he had been raised with paying off.

The only thing Jared was lacking was someone to share it all with. It wasn’t that he didn’t get hit on, or that he didn’t hit on others. It was that Jared hadn’t found the right one yet. He’d tried singles meetings in his church to no avail, tried looking at other people that were dedicated to the cause of needy animals, or attached to the healthcare profession, and had no luck.

Jared had even done a speed-dating event for video game players. That had been…interesting. But nothing had come of any of it. Jared had met a large number of people who had the same values and beliefs as him.

And had been bored with all of them.

Sometimes he thought that he was simply flawed somehow, that he was always going to be looking for something over the horizon that didn’t exist. It wasn’t that he felt wanderlust in any other aspect of his life, but he certainly couldn’t seem to be settled and happy with any of the potential partners that he had met.

Until the other night.

Jared liked the Safe House. On nights when he felt like blowing off steam and having a beer alone it was one of his top three choices. It was quirky, small, and close to work. Still he usually only went there once or twice a month.

He had been every night for the last two weeks.

Every time he would sit down at the same table, same beer in front of him, and open his book.

And then sit staring at the door.

There was no hope of lying to himself. He was waiting for Jensen. That weird, somewhat jaded, rather dour guy that had wandered up to his table and started the most bizarre conversation Jared had ever had.

He didn’t think they had much in common, the conversation had basically proved that, but he did think there was something about the other man besides him being ridiculously handsome, that made Jared want to see him again. And again. And again.

Jared was still kicking his own ass for not asking for Jensen’s number before he left the bar, but he had an early surgery and he couldn’t stay any later.

Instead he was having to rely on the supposition that if the man came to the Safe House once he would come again. He’d said he liked the place, and he’d said it while staring at Jared’s mouth.

Those seemed like pretty good odds.

He had been very careful to not explain to Gen and Danni why he was spending so much time at the little bar, and only half because he thought that he would jinx himself. His good-hearted friends were so happy together they were a little fanatical about making sure everyone else around them was happy too. Jared had noticed it was a condition common in both recovered addicts and people in love.

This had led to them engineering several “meet cutes” between Jared and potential life partners. He had dodged dates with two nurses, an obstetrician, a professional gamer, and a lacrosse player. The last one had been a patient of Gen’s, and Jared had found it very hard to say no to the man.

Very hard indeed.

If there was something there between him and Jensen he didn’t want the two of them forcing the issue and making it explode before it was even formed. He wanted to give this thing the best chance he possibly could.

That being said, he couldn’t retract his invitation now. They would show up whether he wanted them there or not. Better to have them sitting at his table in a good mood then standing at the bar in a mischievous one.

And at first it seems to have been the better choice. Gen and Danneel are perfectly balanced. They are a team, both in the hospital and outside of it. For every bit of flamboyant and loud behavior that Gen lavishes on anyone around her Danneel is balanced and calm. Quiet. Not to say that she is any less a ball of trouble than Gen, but she’s sneakier about it.

They keep him distracted, entertained, and laughing all through the long wait. Which would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that they also get him totally plastered by twelve o’clock.

And Jensen walks through the door at twelve twenty.

Something happens when the man enters the room. It could be the four car bombs that Jared has consumed, but he is pretty sure the air changes when the door swings shut behind him. Green eyes scan the room, land on Jared, and then Jensen is crossing the floor with a smile on his face.

Gen looks up from the shot she was pondering, her smile wavering for half a second before becoming solidified, and then she nudges Jared not too gently in the ribs.

“That’s him right? That’s him. I can tell that’s him.”

It’s so him.

“Yeah Gen.”

“Well he’s headed this way.” Danneel takes her shot and then licks her lips. “And he’s perfect for you.”

Jensen stops right in front of their table, smile lingering on his lips, and then points to Jared’s drink.

“Would you like another one of those? On me?”

And Jared thinks it’s a dream. He’s just as handsome as he was last time, seems just as charming, and has already managed to not piss off Gen or Danneel in the first five seconds. The night is full of promise.

“You’re so pretty.”

This is the worst night of his life.

Danneel’s mouth opens in horror even as Gen bursts into laughter.

“Thank you Jared. I think you’re pretty too. Maybe I should get you a glass of water.”

Jared manages to shake his head even as his hand extends itself, open, and he’s not even sure what he’s asking Jensen to hand him. Whatever it is Jensen disappears to the bar, and then comes back and deposits a glass of water in Jared’s hand. He immediately lifts it and says one slurry “Salut” before pouring it down his shirt.

Gen pulls off being human, a mighty feat for her, and immediately attempts to distract Jensen while Danneel attacks Jared with the biggest glob of napkins the world has ever seen.

He’s never been this drunk he’s pretty sure, and there’s Jensen, his potential soul mate, watching the whole thing with a little twinkle in his pretty green eyes that Jared is fairly certain is the death of anything they could have.

To be fair it has been a while since Jared pulled off a real relationship, but he is ninety percent certain that you don’t attract a mate by being a laughingstock.

Jensen finally steps around Gen and takes Jared’s hand gently.

“Let me help you.”

And then they’re walking into the bathroom where Jensen is leading Jared, firmly and quietly, to the hand dryer.

“Shirt off Jared.”

And this, Jared thinks, is finally a leg up because even drunk as shit and unable to say anything with the slightest hint of intelligence Jared knows that being shirtless is a big point grabber for him. He strips with a tiny bit of finesse and hands Jensen the shirt with a little drunk flourish. Jensen smiles in response, eyes lingering on Jared’s chest and stomach as he runs the shirt under the hand dryer for what seems like way too little time before holding it back out.

“All taken care of.”

And sure enough it’s dry. Jared lets Jensen lead him back to the table, and when a second glass of water appears Jared holds it carefully with both hands. Jensen is talking to Gen, eyes lit up from the inside and mouth curled into a smile. They appear to be talking about some kind of TV show that Jared doesn’t recognize, and he’s ok with just watching as his tongue reconnects with his lost and drunken brain.

“He is really good looking.”

Jared looks over at Danneel expecting to see her trademark smirk. Instead she seems pensive.

“Yes?”

“And charming.”

Jared nods, not sure why these positives are making her look this way.

“And Gen really likes him.”

“Are you jealous?”

It’s said with incredulity, because there’s nothing on this earth that could split apart Gen and Danni and both of them know it.

“No. No I’m not jealous. It’s just…there’s something. Something’s off about him. You don’t think there’s something off about him?”

And yes, Jared does think there’s something off about Jensen. Namely that Jensen who has been utterly perfect so far has walked in at just the right time to put the finishing touches on Jared’s perfect life. It’s just the right time for Jared to meet someone like Jensen.

But why look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Not really Danni. I’m kinda missing your point.”

Danneel’s mouth purses and relaxes, words forming in her brain that Jared can see her turning over and dismissing, and then she shakes her head and lets out a forced laugh.

“Never mind. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Jared! Jared I love this guy! He watches Crossing Jordan!”

Jared doesn’t know what that means, but Jensen slips onto the stool beside him and their shoulders brush and he feels a bolt of electricity.

“That’s great!” Jared is pretty sure that’s great. “So Jensen, where have you been?”

Jensen’s eyes roam the bar as his fingers play with the neck of the beer bottle he’s picked up at some point.

“I had some work stuff to deal with, but it’s taken care of now. I thought I would come back around and see if I could find you again.”

“You found me!” It sounds too excited, too childlike, so Jared tries to cover it up with a sexy smile and is only fairly certain he doesn’t look like an idiot. “What was the problem?”

“My boss dropped a huge project on me and then my second in command took a vacation. I had to find someone to handle things while I was out and about taking care of the project.”

“What’s the project?”

Jensen sipped from his beer.

“It’s…hard to explain. I told you I sell luxury items right?”

“Right.”

“Doing that is easy. Those people want that stuff. They’re geared towards it. Selling a greedy businessman a gold-plated car is child’s play. But my boss wants something different. He’s picked this guy, crazy rich but not greedy or proud, and he wants me to sell him something pretty big. Something I’ve never had to sell before.”

Jared can’t help the way his head tilts a little, even though he knows that Gen calls it his confused puppy dog face.

“You sold somebody a gold-plated car? How does that work? That would be awful.”

Jensen laughs, that smile that Jared fell for the first night reappearing on his face. It’s an odd little thing, nothing like the one that he was giving Gen when he was talking to her or the one he had when he walked through the door tonight. There’s something confused in it, as if Jensen doesn’t know how he’s smiling.

“He was an idiot. A lot of them are. All you have to do is find their weakness and exploit it. For him it was a combination. He wanted everyone to know that he was rich and crazy masculine. What displays that better than gold and sports cars?”

And he’s got a point, but Jared still wonders about a company that would make a gold car. It doesn’t sound like something that would be mass produced. When Jared first met him Jensen was talking about Skymall, but Skymall definitely didn’t make to order items.

“So. You guys make specialty shit to sell to greedy people? They don’t ask you for it you just sell them on something expensive and make it then?”

Jared sees it for only a second, a hesitation, something drawn and withheld in Jensen that Jared has never seen before. He’s not sure what it is or why it happens, but he remembers what Danni said before about her reservations about Jensen. It’s gone when Jensen smiles again, one hand landing on Jared’s elbow and fingers curling to cup the bone gently.

“Like I said before, luxury items. We have a very strong network of artisans that can do anything we need, so we can sell anything we want. To a targeted audience.”

And then he feels the strength of Jensen’s fingers flex as a voice draws his attention away.

“Jared? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Jared doesn’t know the guy. Doesn’t know why he’s there or why he knows Jared’s name. On the other hand he doesn’t want to embarrass the guy or make the moment weird. Everything is going so well.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He follows the guy away from the table, smiling at Gen’s questioning look and Danni’s concern.

When they finally stop, halfway across the bar, Jared is pretty sure that he’s about to have to decline an advance. The guy is smiling, but it’s not reaching his eyes. It’s weird. Everything is suddenly weird. Jared feels slow and drugged.

“I need a new shipment.”

Jared feels the world shift a little, the booze must be hitting him hard again because everything is wobbling and confusing.

“You need a what?”

“You owe me another shipment. I want it.”

“What the hell are you talking about man?”

The guy grabs Jared’s shirt, and Jared reacts on instinct, knocking the hands off and pushing the jerk away. He falls backwards into another patron, mouth open in shock and rage, and then Jared is planting his feet firmly when the stranger springs forward and drives a fist into his stomach.

A fight.

Jared hasn’t been in a fight in years and it’s all muscle memory for how to hold his fist, how to take the hits that are coming at him, and how to return them with as much power as he can.

And then hands are pulling them apart, and Gen is yelling but Jared can’t understand her. He’s too busy looking around, trying to figure out what is wrong with the world he’s found himself in. How much did he drink?

On one hand Jared can count the number of times he’s gotten physically violent, and each of them ended in hugging it out after some pushing. He’s never done this. Never. Gen is looking at him like he’s an alien and Danneel’s face has closed off entirely. Jensen steps past the two women, taking Jared’s elbow again and leading him out of the bar at the direction of the bouncer.

He’ll be banned from the Safe House for a while. Which sucks, but also he’s pretty sure he scared his two best friends in the whole wide world and he’s pretty sure he just broke a guy’s nose. All in all, Jared has royally screwed up everything.

Danni approaches them in the parking lot where Jared is breathing the cool clear air and trying to figure out how to salvage just a little bit of this.

“Jared. We’re gonna go home. We’ll see you tomorrow ok?”

“Danni. Danni I’m sorry it just-that guy. That guy was so- I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He can’t make his tongue work right, can’t tell her everything that happened and all of his confusion. All he has is useless platitudes and confusion.

“It’s ok Jay. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She leaves, and Jared hopes that using his nickname was some sign that they won’t be totally pissed at him for going barbarian for no logical reason at all.

Jared only gets to wallow in his misery for a few seconds before that warm, firm hand lands on his shoulder and grips him again. Jared is turned and finds himself facing Jensen, who looks wholly understanding and kind.

“What an asshole that guy was. Good on you for putting him down a peg.”

Again, something vicious and a little foreign rests in Jensen’s face, mixed up with the rest of it, and Jared feels that disquiet again.

“No. Not good for me.”

Jensen’s surprise is honest and sudden.

“What do you mean? You stood up for yourself. Showed him who was-“

“No. No Jensen. That may matter to you but it far from matters to me. I’m a nurse. I work to save lives and heal pain. I don’t cause it. That’s why Gen and Danni are so angry, and that’s why it’s bad. You may buy into that machismo bullshit about asserting yourself, but I don’t. And I think I need to say goodnight.”

It’s the last ending to this night Jared ever pictured. He leaves Jensen, handsome face confused, standing in the parking lot as he makes his way back to the hospital. He’ll sleep it off in the lounge and start again tomorrow.

Still single.

Part Two
MasterPost