#alpha reader program

If you’d asked him a few years ago what a good life looked like, he would have denied Cas’s place in it. There were just so many reasons why Cas couldn’t be a part of any picture he’d have painted back then. That was before, though. Before Cas told him, unequivocally, that he loved Dean in a way he thought he couldn’t have.

Maybe a year ago, if Cas had said those same words, Dean would have jumped into his arms and kissed the hell out of him. At that point, he’d finally admitted to himself that Cas was more to him. That Cas meant more than Dean’s fear of someone thinking he liked dick. Cas meant more than his hang-ups about how sex worked with a dude. Cas was more than a guy, and not simply because he wasn’t human. Angel or not, Cas was Dean’s person.

That was before, though. Before Mary died. Before Chuck had his little hissy fit. Before Dean acted like an ass… again. Before Y/N.

Now, Dean sits on his bed, not drinking the whiskey in his hand because he knows it won’t help. He needs to think clearly. He needs to decide how he feels. He’s loved Cas for years. But he’s beginning to think that maybe he loves her, too.

She appeared with the army of hunters that had arrived when Chuck opened Hell. She was relatively new to hunting, so when her partner died early on, she needed an experienced partner. With Dean barely speaking to him, Cas needed something to focus on, and he took her under his wing, so to speak. Which meant Dean barely spoke to her, either, outside of barking orders.

He was just so angry at the time, and it spilled onto her. Dean didn’t want Cas around him, but then he didn’t want Cas focusing on her, either. Or giving her that squinty head tilt. Hugging her while she grieved her partner. Talking to her about lore and weapons and sigils.

With Jack and Rowena dead, Y/N filled the fourth seat in the Impala just a little too quickly for Dean’s liking. And it had nothing to do with how fondly Cas looked at her when she fell asleep on his shoulder. Yeah, he understood that she needed training and experience, but there were a million other hunters fighting ghosts and zombies with them that she could have joined.

Dean was so mad, Cas left. And she went with him. And no, Dean did not spend several sleepless nights wondering about the sexual orientation of angels.

She and Cas were hunting partners for a while, but then Cas went to Heaven, so she moved into the bunker and never left. Dean tried not to dump his shit on her, knowing that it was his shit and not hers and he was being a dick, but she was everywhere—cooking in the kitchen, beating up the heavy bag in the gym, shooting curse words into the paper targets in the range. Dean didn’t want to laugh when she slapped one on his chest that read “DICK” as she walked out the door. He also didn’t want to deck Fancypants Dean from the other world when he asked her to go with them to Rio and then kissed her, dipped her like a 50’s heroine and everything, right in front of him!

And he definitely didn’t want to miss her when she left again with Cas. They were gone, again. Alone. Soon, he realized that he missed the smell of her cooking. He stared at the taped-over hole she left in the heavy bag when she tried attacking it while wearing heels. He tried to forget how lethal she was in the gun range. He failed to stop wondering how many beds were in the motel room they were sharing each night.

He got better about not being a dick to her when they returned. He even shared his pie. The first time she gave him one of her hundred-watt smiles, he nearly melted. She offered to help wash Baby, and he accepted. Not being a dick got easier as they became friends.

Then Chuck killed her. Just poofed her into nothing. A finger snap and Dean felt like he was back on the rack, a knife slicing into his heart. Why? Watching Cas mourn her was almost as hard as admitting that he felt the same way. He shouldn’t feel this way. They were friends. But the pain and grief in Cas’s eyes were mirrored in his chest. Not that he could say that to anyone. She was Cas’s… something.

Yet, before the Shadow swallowed him and Billie whole, Cas still said that his moment of complete happiness was loving Dean.

After Cas was gone, Dean sat on the floor in the dungeon and wondered at the complete lack of black goo anywhere. It had seemed to be everywhere but had left no trace. His mind bounced against the image of Cas getting swallowed whole and ricocheted into the image of Y/N poofing into thin air. Sam’s face when he picked up Eileen’s car keys, phone, and wallet. Jack’s face burning brightly when Chuck killed him in the graveyard. Mom’s face when he wrapped a shroud around the body that wasn’t hers. Charlie’s face as she lay in that awful motel bathtub. Bobby’s face as he called them idjits one last time. Dad’s face when the doctors tried to revive him, but he was already long gone.

Dean went on autopilot. He got up from the floor, drove to Sam and Jack, and then, he … did what needed to be done. On the drive away from Chuck’s defeat, Dean tried to imagine the life ahead of him without Chuck’s influence. Just him and Sam and Jack. He pictured them in the bunker, all in black and white like the old photos of the Men of Letters in the archives. Nothing big to fight, only little hunts. Maybe there would be the occasional trip to Hell to visit Rowena. Maybe Rowena could use a hand down there? Hell sounded nice, this time of year. You know, when everyone else is dead….

Dean didn’t let himself complete that thought. He still had Sam.

Then Jack brought back Y/N and Eileen. Color returned to Dean’s world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than Heaven or Hell. With Y/N in his arms, all he could think about was Cas. Dean needed Cas back, even if it meant watching them ride off into the sunset together. When Jack said he couldn’t get Cas as easily as he’d gotten Y/N and Eileen, she ended up crying in Dean’s arms, letting him comfort her. She comforted him. They comforted each other.

Before the big rescue, Dean decided that if Cas and Y/N chose to go off and live a happy life together, he’d wish them well, even if it meant drowning himself in whiskey.

But now they’re both here. When their departure was hypothetical, it was easy to convince himself that he could be supportive. Now that he was up against the reality of it, he could barely breathe. Yes, the two of them alive and happy together without him is better than the two of them dead, but….

Dean puts down the whiskey and grabs an open bottle of what is probably very stale water off his desk. He drinks it down and then stares at the whiskey bottle. He tries to breathe through the pain in his chest caused by the prospect of visiting Cas and Y/N in their little country cottage with the white picket fence and beehives in the backyard. Oh, how he wants to drink something stronger than water and make this pain stop.

No. He needs to say this to himself completely sober.

“I want them,” he announces to the room, quietly enough that no one outside could hear, but the words still echo in his ears. “No, I don’t just want them. I want a bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions and a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream on top. I need them. I need Cas, and I need her, and I need to stop acting like I don’t.”

Picturing the little country cottage once more, he shakes his head. “I have to try. Cas said he loved me. Y/N at least doesn’t think I’m a dick. I can’t do nothing, anymore. I have to try. I have to tell them both and at least ask them to give me a chance.”

Dean pulls at his hair and sighs. “But that’s not how the world works. I can’t have them both. I need to decide who to talk to first. I need to choose.”

The angel that literally saved him from Hell but wears a vessel Dean doesn’t know how to handle, or the woman who would be the complete package if he weren’t already in love with Cas.

“How do I choose?”

And that’s all assuming that either of them even (still) wants him. Cas may have changed his mind after Dean stood there stupidly and said freaking nothing while the Empty swallowed him whole. And she’s never really indicated that she wanted anyone but Cas. And Cas has always seemed perfectly happy to indulge her attentions. Hell, maybe they will go off together to that cottage in the country and leave him alone. After the way he’s acted, it’s the least he deserves.

“If I even have a choice, I can’t choose.”

Pacing the room, he kneads the problem in his mind like a baker would knead dough. After only a couple of minutes, he tires of rolling around a thousand “what ifs” in his head and stops in front of his bedroom door, hand almost grabbing the knob to turn it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asks himself, trying to give himself the courage to move. “They both say they don’t want me, they only want each other, and I’m left alone, like I’ve always been. Nothing changes for me.”

Swallowing down the blast of grief that idea causes, he takes a deep breath and watches from outside of his body as he turns the doorknob and walks down the hallway.

He hears her voice coming from her room long before he reaches it, but he’s almost in the doorway before he can make out the words she’s saying. She’s chattering in that way she does when she’s excited or nervous about something, and his heart clenches as he wonders what’s got her so jittery.

“It’s just that there’s so much to consider and so many possibilities and I’ve been waiting until now to think about it and oh god now I’m rambling and we really need to come up with a better phrase for that now that Chuck’s not in power andfuckinghellIthinkI’llstoptalking.”

Dean watches her put a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words and can’t stop his smile. She’s adorable.

Cas sees Dean in the doorway, gives her a gentle smile, and says, “That’s probably a good idea.” He nods his head towards Dean, and she turns to look at him. They’re both sitting on the side of the bed, one of her hands is encased in both of his, and Dean feels his heart wrench at what that might mean.

He tries to read their expressions, get a feel for what’s happening in the room, but his own feelings are overwhelming him. They’re both right here, staring at him, while he’s staring at them, and no one is saying anything!

“Uh,” he starts —oh, you’re doing great there, Dean, so eloquent— before clearing his throat and taking a steadying breath, “I don’t want to interrupt you guys?”

Cas smiles, but Y/N gulps and shakes her head.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says in that way that always makes Dean feel warm inside. “It’s okay. What do you need?”

Dean tries again to read their expressions, but all he can feel is tension. Is it coming from him? “I, uh, need you,” he says to both of them, bouncing his gaze back and forth between them.

Cas stands up, letting go of Y/N’s hands, and pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll let you guys have some time alone. We can finish this later, right?”

Y/N nods, but Dean stops Cas from leaving the room with a hand on his arm. “No, Cas, I mean both of you.” Wishing that he could simply snap his fingers and have both of them automatically understand, he stares into Cas’s eyes like he’s done so many times before, trying to will his jumble of thoughts into the angel’s head.

Cas must only get static, though, because he smiles his same old fond smile, puts his hand on Dean’s left shoulder like he always does, and replies, “Of course, Dean. I’m always here when you need me. How can I help?”

Dean groans, wiping down his face with his hand while his shoulders droop. “Fuck, this is hard,” he mutters, then leads Cas back to where he’d been sitting on the bed, drags over the desk chair, and sits facing them both. “Look, I don’t do chick flick stuff, and you guys both know that, so bear with me, okay?”

Cas and Y/N both nod, and Dean wishes he had the whiskey bottle with him. Maybe a little in vino veritas would help him get through this. Staring at the two of them, he doesn’t even know where to start. He looks back and forth at each of them again, noting that they’re holding hands once more, and focuses on that.

“Look, guys, I know you two are,” he waves a hand around trying to indicate what he means, “together? Involved? Whatever you want to call it since we’re not in high school and we’ve all worked to derail an apocalypse or two. And I don’t want to mess with that. Well, not exactly. Wait, that’s not what I meant.” He takes a steadying breath and mutters, “Fuck, this is hard,” yet again.

He looks up and finally notices that both Cas and Y/N are now considerably less relaxed than they were a minute ago. Both sit stiff-backed, trying to look at anything but each other, and their hands are no longer linked.

“Wait, you guys are together, right?” Dean asks, suddenly questioning every moment he’s ever seen between them.

Y/N clears her throat and replies, “Well, that’s kind of what I was trying to talk to Cas about when you came in.” Her eyes bounce between Cas and Dean nervously and she shifts her position on the bed a little so she’s facing towards Cas a little more. “Cas, part of what I was trying to say is that I have, you know, feelings for you, that are, well, more than friendship.” Her words rush faster and faster until she gets to the end. “I held it in for so long, and then I was dead, and you were dead, and it was all awful, but now we’re back, and we’re here, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel.” She ends with a small gasp of much-needed air and then stares fearfully at the angel while she carefully exhales.

Cas tilts his head and squints, and Y/N slowly deflates a little bit more with every moment Cas takes to reply. Dean had no idea what he was walking into but somehow feels a little better knowing he’s not the only one feeling the need to put things on the table. The only concern now is that he might be watching the two people he wants so very much get together right in front of him, without him. Well, I’ll always have Sammy and visits to Rowena in Hell, he thinks.

“Cas? Please say something,” Y/N pleads, the panic becoming clear to Dean as her breathing quickens and her hands fumble in her lap.

“I thought you were in love with Dean?” Cas blurts out, leaving all three of them exchanging looks between them.

Dean sits up straighter and glances between Cas and Y/N, but focuses more on Y/N. “Really?” He can’t stop the word from leaving his mouth. He’s too excited by the possibility. Doing the math in his head, his heart starts to race happily. Half a chance Cas really loves him like he said, half a chance Y/N loves him like Cas said, that equals a whole chance he might actually get at least half of what he wants.

Completely ignorant to the social graces surrounding admitting other people’s feelings for other people to those other people, Cas just keeps going, turning to Dean. “Yes. I’ve noticed her engaging in some of the social actions that usually indicate romantic affection towards you. I assumed that meant she had feelings for you.”

Dean looks at Cas, then throws his hands up in the air. “Well, I’ve been watching the two of you cuddle up together all the time like two peas in a damn pod, so I knew she had feelings for you! And you’ve been cuddling right back, so I figured that meant the two of you were a thing, no matter what you said!”

Face glowing a bright red, Y/N interrupted the staring contest between the two men. “Well, I’ve been watching all the eye-fucking between you two since day one, so I thought you two were a thing! I mean, seriously, you two need to kiss or fuck or something so the rest of us can breathe clear air, again!”

Both Dean and Cas turn to stare at Y/N.

“What? You two had no problem talking about my feelings! Turnabout’s fair play!”

Cas takes hold of Y/N’s hand to ground her and says, “So, you have romantic feelings for both of us, then?”

Fear washes over her face as she nods, nervously glancing between the two of them.

Cas smiles. “And I have romantic feelings for both of you,” he states. The two of them smile at each other for a moment and then turn to Dean in unison. Their hands are clutched together, knuckles white with tension.

With two pairs of striking eyes staring at him, Dean squirms.

“Dean, we would very much appreciate you telling us what you’re thinking and feeling, right now,” Cas said, using his calmest and most caring voice. “I believe the phrase is, ‘this is a safe space.’”

Dean takes a steadying breath, looks at each of them individually, and decides there’s no use running now. He’s here. He knows there will be a soft landing when he jumps. He’s jumped into worse with less and come out winning. He can do this.

Dean takes Y/N’s free hand in one of his and squeezes it while he decides what words to use. She relaxes, her shoulders dropping, but Dean notices Cas stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Dean stiffens right along with him, bringing his eyes up just in time to see the flash of disappointment in Cas’s eyes before it disappears.

Fuck, he’s screwing this all up, already.

Words are still foreign things he can’t seem to grasp, so he decides to act instead. Still holding Y/N’s hand, he reaches with his other hand to grasp Cas’s neck and pull him in.

The kiss is awkward as hell. Cas’s eyes are wide open when Dean closes his, and then teeth clash, and Cas stays frozen while Dean tries to gently kiss some life into him. Right before Dean is about to pull away and question all his life choices, Cas melts. Cas’s hand is suddenly in Dean’s hair, pulling Dean closer as the kiss turns into the warmest, loveliest kiss Dean’s ever experienced. Cas’s lips are as soft as Dean ever imagined, the little bit of rough stubble a new but not awful feeling, and Dean’s pretty sure he could do this for hours and never come up for air. Maybe it would kill him, but he’d be okay dying this way.

Eventually, the kiss turns to little nibbles, and then they simply sit there for a moment, foreheads together and eyes closed, feeling the warmth of each other.

“I didn’t think you could feel what I feel,” Dean whispered. “And then you said you could, and you did, and then you were gone, and it was too late.” He shifts only enough to press his lips to Cas’s again one more time. “You can have everything you want, angel,” he says, pulling back enough to look Cas in the eyes.

Cas’s smile is as wide and happy as Dean’s ever seen it. They stare at each other for another one of those long moments where Dean swears Cas must be able to freeze time. Cas’s eyes shift away from Dean, and he’s reminded that he’s staring at only half of his happiness.

The other half is still holding his hand, watching him and Cas with wide eyes and a shy smile. With nothing left to lose, Dean leans in and feels the rest of his world click into place as his lips settle perfectly on hers. The kiss with her is different, and yet also the same in how right it feels. She opens her mouth a little, and their tongues slide together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. When they finally break apart, he doesn’t know what to say, so he just lets his smile loose. She smiles back, and he knows she understands.

Everything in him wants to keep going back and forth, kissing them both, but there’s always that little voice inside his head —which sounds a bit like Chuck, these days— that tells him that this isn’t real. It makes him slow down a bit, lean back in his chair, and enjoy looking at the two people in front of him. He watches the two of them kiss and is surprised when his gut doesn’t churn with jealousy this time.

Each time he had imagined what they did behind closed doors, he was miserable. Yet, here he is, watching them kiss, feeling happy. The part of him that was jealous and hurt now knows that they both want him, too. He’s not on the outside looking in, anymore.

The little voice that sounds like Chuck gets a little louder. ‘What is this, a three-way roll in the hay like with the Doublemint twins back before Hell, or those triplets with Lee? Yeah, this isn’t how real life works, pal.’

Cas and Y/N finally pull away from each other but continue to stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Now, Dean knows how other people have felt while he’s stared at Cas in the past. Part of him wants to laugh at that, but that evil little voice has convinced him that this is temporary. They’re all holding hands, now, like some kind of hippie prayer circle or Zen meditation thing, grinning like idiots at each other, and it can’t last.

Dean’s smile falters, and he looks down at their hands, trying to memorize this moment before it all comes crashing down. Before he has to choose. Before they have to choose. Before he loses everything.

Cas lets go of his hand and uses it to lift Dean’s chin so he sees Cas’s face again. “You can have this, Dean. We can have this, exactly like this. We don’t have to choose. It won’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is, right?” Cas’s hand drops down and grasps his hand, again. “Polyamory is not unheard of and is accepted in many cultures.”

Dean looks back and forth between Cas and Y/N, gauging their feelings about this from their expressions.

Y/N giggles and shrugs when Dean looks at her, questions in his eyes. “I’m game to try if you are. I’m guessing it’s going to involve a lot of honesty and talking, but I could never choose between you.”

Dean’s shoulders relax and he takes what feels like the first deep breath of his life. He’s fallen, hard and fast, expecting the pain of a crash landing, but found a safety net instead. It’s thrilling, it’s scary, and his heart wants to burst out of his chest, but it’s all good.

Squeezing both of their hands, he grins. “Let’s do this, then.”

Click here to find out exactly what an alpha reader is!

Here’s how the program works:

Below, you will find information from the alpha for this month. This information should help you determine if this month’s alpha is someone you could work with.

If you are interested in working with this alpha, you will fill out this application form. (Pond members only. Joining is easy! Check out the Start Here link!)

Only the Pond admins will be able to see your username. The alpha will not know who you are. We hope this brings together people who maybe wouldn’t otherwise find each other, so this application process will be blind.

DEADLINE TO APPLY IS MIDNIGHT, PACIFIC TIME, ON THE LAST DAY OF THE MONTH!

Based on the application information, the alpha will pick a mentee. Only after the mentee is chosen will the alpha know who they have chosen.

The pair will decide if they want a list of prompts to choose from, or if they want to work on a story idea the mentee has had on the back burner.

Together, they will create beautiful words.

The mentee will post their work on their own blog and submit it to the Pond for posting and to be added to the Program masterpost.

If there are any questions or concerns throughout, @mrswhozeewhatsis will be the point person/mediator!

Story requirements/parameters:

Must be SPN fan fiction.

All ships/pairings/kinks/genres allowed. The only restrictions are those set by the alpha and the mentee.

Use a Keep Reading cut if your story is more than 500 words.

Tag your story with the appropriate trigger warning tags and list them in the author’s note.

Our preferred header format is here.

There is no minimum or maximum word count for this. We don’t expect a novel, but hope for a one-shot.

The story idea MUST be something the mentee has not written or posted, yet. Ideally, to get the most out of this experience, the mentee will only have a couple of sentences about a vague idea, at most. We will provide a list of prompts if you like.

We would prefer that this not be Part 1 of a series. We don’t want to ask the alpha to commit to something larger than a one-shot. If the idea turns into more, and the mentee is willing to continue without the alpha, or the alpha is willing to continue working on the story after the month is done, then that is up to the alpha and the mentee.

​Use the hashtag #alpha reader program when you post your story and tag the @spnfanficpond, your alpha reader, and @mrswhozeewhatsis.

And now, a bit about our alpha for this month:

What is your username?

@roseszain

Are you a writer, yourself?

Yes

Are you an experienced beta? (Have you beta read for more than five people, reading more than one story for at least 1 of them?)

Yes

What is your turnaround time for a typical one-shot? (This will not be a typical situation, but this answer will give everyone an idea of how long to give you after they send you something.)

24 hours

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “English is my second language,” and 5 being, “I have a degree in English or professional editing experience,” how confident are you with your grammar skills?

4

What time zone are you in?

US - Mountain time

Is there anything you won't read? Ships/pairings, smut, non-con, dub-con, slash, AU, etc.

Ships: no wincest, prefer not m/f unless minor, mostly prefer destiel, but I'm up for other ships. Regular no's: major character death (unless they come back to life), mpreg, suicide, extensive self harm or attempted suicide, unhappy ending, permanent break up, infidelity (between main ship), non con, detailed torture or abuse. Smut or Similar: non con and/or rape, not enough lube, unsafe bdsm, under-negotiated scenes, degradation, scat and watersports, bestiality/ certain xeno, underage

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “Please don’t make me drink the demon blood again,” and 5 being, “Easier than Dean’s pie,” how comfortable would you be checking for story elements such as continuity errors, characterization, and canon compliance?

4

Brainstorming ideas will require you both to be free at the same time. When is the best time for you?

Best time for my undivided attention is after 7pm my time most days except Tuesdays. But I've gotta a pretty loose schedule most days from like 10am on, so I can make most anything work.

How long of a story are you willing to read for this project?

10,000 - 19,999 words

Do you use Google Docs?

Yes

Please write a couple of sentences to give writers a feel for your style and approach to alpha reading. For example, what is your main focus when it comes to storytelling (i.e. details, feelings, actions)? Are you willing to help with flow or pacing? If a writer is having trouble with a certain sentence, are you willing to offer rewording/restructuring suggestions? Do you feel comfortable offering notes on the story if you feel like something is missing or needs more work?

I read with readers in mind and what would bother or confuse me if I were to read for fun. Does the wording and phrasing make sense? Am I confused by a sudden change in where people are in a room or in a fight scene? I tend to offer rewording or restructuring when I think something is off so that the writer knows what kind of changes I'm thinking of.

What do you feel your weaknesses are when writing or alpha reading? For example, do you have trouble with dialogue or action scenes? Is there a particular grammar aspect you have trouble with?

Writing wise, I've never been strong with dialogue but I've been working on it. Alpha reading, hmm I think I mostly struggle with technique, like figuring out how to suggest more complex changes while not wanting to sound rude. Also maybe smut cause I haven't worked on that as much, and semicolons

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

An add on to my style as a beta reader: I do my best to get a feel of the writer's style and try not to critique or suggest a change when it's something that the writer seems to do a lot (excessive ands in a description, short and abrupt sentences, spelling the UK way instead of the US way, etc). That's also why I'm more than okay with talking outside of the doc or having the writer go thru my edits around the time I do them (if they end up doing so), cause I may miss something or misinterpret and it's great to get feedback if I'm on the same wavelength with them on certain things. I pretty much go with what the writer asks for, help wise, and go from there.

There you go! If you are interesting in working with our alpha this month, go fill out this application here and we will let you know if you are chosen!

When the snake was far enough away that they couldn’t hear the telltale shaking of its rattle any longer, Jensen let out a heavy sigh of relief and let the tension melt out of his body, collapsing forward and resting his forehead on the nearest surface – which just so happened to be Jared’s naked collarbone. Jensen could smell the sweat and fear that he was positive came from his own body as well as Jared’s, but he was also keenly aware of some deep scent of wood and musk and man that was unfamiliar, and he assumed it was all Jared. Unconsciously, his head rolled to the side a little, and his nose pressed against the crook of Jared’s throat, and he breathed deeply.

“Ackles,” Jared’s voice was soft and calm, but it sounded like the crack of a whip to Jensen’s ears, breaking him out of the incredibly inappropriate reverie into which he had fallen.

“Thanks for the cover, but I’m gonna need you to get your ass up and in my office now,” Jared’s words sent a crash of ice through Jensen’s overheated veins as he scrambled off his superior.

He’d forgotten, temporarily, why he’d been out in the paddock in the first place, and why Jared had rushed out to the yard despite being only half dressed. They’d been fighting – him, Baxter and Cameron – and Jared had made it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any more screw ups from them. They’d all had their warning; even if it hadn’t been Jensen’s fucking fault this time either, why would Jared believe him? He couldn’t keep telling Jared the same sob story of the other guys calling him names and trying to provoke him, and he knew that wouldn’t be the way Cameron and Baxter would tell it. It would be the words of two against one, and then they’d all be shipped back north to that fucking prison. At least Cameron and Baxter would be getting locked back up too. Those pricks fucking deserved it, especially after what they’d been doing to Baby. Jensen still couldn’ believe they’d stooped so low.

“Boys!” Jared hollered, and Jensen turned to see Cameron and Baxter casually walking towards the other end of the paddock, as if they were hoping in the excitement of everything, Jared had forgotten they were there. “Get your asses up to the ranch house and in my office! Now!”

For a moment, Jensen thought they might try to make a run for it, but the pair exchanged a look between themselves, and then slowly turned, trudging through the dust back towards the house.

“C’mon son, you too,” Jared shot him a stern expression and held out an arm to Jensen, gesturing for him to lead the way and indicating that he would follow. With a heavy heart, Jensen spun on his heel, his boot carving a dent in the dust, and led the way towards his own execution.

The first thing Jared did when he followed Cameron, Baxter and Jensen into his office was go to his wardrobe and pull out the spare shirt hanging there, sternly telling himself not to look over at the chair next to it where his dirty, cum stained t-shirt was still lying. He quickly did up the snaps while he was facing away from the boys and cleared his throat, turning and sitting down behind his desk, and summoning as much authority as he could muster.

“Which one of you would like to tell me what happened?” he asked gravely, eyes darting between each young man in front of him, all of whom looked shifty as hell. Jensen looked down dejectedly, refusing to meet Jared’s eyes, in what he hoped was shame at being here in this position, again.

“Ackles threw the first punch, sir,” Baxter said after a moment.

Jared raised a brow, not wanting to believe that was true.

“I see,” he mused, still examining the boys closely. “And Ackles just decided out of the blue that he’d like a punch up? Two against one isn’t a very fair fight.”

“He went at Cam, would have beaten him into dust if I hadn’t stepped in too,” Baxter objected earnestly, looking to his companion, who nodded vehemently in support of this narrative.

“Is this true Ackles?” Jared asked seriously, and only now did Jensen look up at him, meeting his gaze with angry green eyes. “Did you start the fight with Cameron?” The boy sighed shakily, red blazing up on his sun-freckled cheeks.

“Technically yes,” he admitted, “but Cameron started it. Him and Baxter had Baby out of her stall and they were messin’ her around!” Jensen started to explain as quickly as he could, but Baxter and Cameron cut across his story in their own defence.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong!” Cameron insisted with plaintive eyes.

“We were just walking her around,” Baxter argued. “We was mucking out the stall next to her an’ she was nearly kicking the door down ‘cause she wanted out so bad. We wasn’t ridin’ her or nothin’.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jensen turned on the other two, seething mad. “You weren’t even on stable duty today, you took her out because you were gonna set her loose. I heard you joking about it at dinner last week. And I saw you kicking at her hooves an’ her legs tryin’ to get her to take off! I had to stop ‘em, sir,” he looked back at Jared imploringly. “They were hurtin’ her, I had to stop ‘em.”

“We wasn’t doin’ none of that,” Baxter growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and Jared was half afraid he might start throwing punches again right here in the office.

“He’s just making that up to get us kicked out!” Cameron complained. “He’s already got one warning for fighting. And he’s one of the only violent offenders we got in our group, he can’t help himself.”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know shit about,” Jensen growled, stepping into Cameron’s space and staring him down. Baxter made a move as if he were going to dive between them and Jared decided he’d heard enough.

“Alright!” he shouted, shoving back from his desk and effectively shocking the boys into calmer temperaments again.

“All three of you have had your one warning already, so doesn’t really matter who says what, I should have you all out on your asses and shipping back up to Gainesville first thing tomorrow morning!” There was a stony silence between all the occupants of the room, and Jared swallowed heavily.

“Baxter, Cameron; upstairs and pack your bags,” he said solemnly, nodding his head towards the door. “Clearly you can’t be trusted not to get into trouble in each other’s company, so you’ll stay in separate singles tonight, is that understood?”

“What about him?!” Cameron demanded angrily, pointing at Jensen, who was resolutely staring at the floor.

“I’m not done with him yet.” Jared’s voice was deep, and croaky, like he had gravel caught in his throat, and he saw Jensen flinch in reaction to his words. “Go on now, get,” he pointed the duo towards the hall, and they morosely left to pack their things.

Jared reached for the phone on his desk and pressed the speed dial for José, telling him to supervise their packing and get them into their solitary rooms, then call the corrections facility and arrange for a trooper to come down first thing tomorrow.

“When they’re out of our room, I’ll go pack my things,” Jensen said in a hushed tone after Jared hung up and had sat back down behind the desk with a heavy sigh.

“Huh?” Jared looked up, not quite registering what Jensen had said, his own mind whirring a bit too fast and clouding his thoughts.

“To go back to Gainesville,” Jensen muttered. “I’m uh… would it be alright if I saw the horses one more time, before I left? Don’t know when they’ll let me back out, after this.”

Jared’s heart broke for the kid standing in front of him. He knew Jensen had been growing to really like it here, even if never would have thought the boy would admit it; and he knew he shouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, that everyone should be treated equally, given the same chances, but he just had a feeling that Jensen hadn’t truly been to blame for any of the shit he’s been involved in, maybe not even what he went to Juvie for in the first place. He had to be sure, though. He needed to hear Jensen’s side of it – of all of it.

“Not so fast,” Jared reached across the desk and grabbed Jensen’s wrist as he turned to leave the office. The boy looked up at him with startled eyes, and Jared saw goosebumps standing up on his arm, the sun-bleached hair sticking up like someone had shocked him with a cattle prod. “Take a seat son, and tell me one more time what happened today.”

Jensen raised a brow at Jared sceptically, but took a seat nonetheless. He had been positive that that was it, his ass was being handed to him and by this time tomorrow he’d be back under lock and key, waiting for the judge to schedule him a hearing date.

“I told you everything that happened,” Jensen said slowly, feeling uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of Jared’s hazel eyes.

“Now, I think that right there was the first lie you’ve told me all day,” Jared fixed him with a small smirk, the first crack in his otherwise authoritarian exterior. “Jensen...” he started, but then paused again, considering his words very carefully.

The boy looked up abruptly at the sound of his first name being used, it wasn’t a form of address he’d come to be used to at the ranch, or any time in the past couple of years, actually. His name sounded gentle on Jared’s lips, also not something he was used to, considering the majority of his time at home had been spent with one or both of his parents shouting it at him instead.

“Jensen,” Jared started again, shifting awkwardly in his chair, clearing his throat. “You hear things, running the kind of facility I do, and most of them are straight up bullshit. I know how teenage boys operate, and I know the kind of pressures you’re all going through, being cooped up in such close quarters with a lot of – quite frankly – volatile personalities.” He exhaled lightly, and Jensen chanced a half smile in acknowledgement. “I hear what the guys say about Baxter and Cameron, and I got no issue if it’s true or if it’s not, doesn’t concern me.”

Jensen hardened at that, beginning to sense where Jared might be going with this little speech. He knew the whispers about his roommates too; he’d never spread them, never said anything to confirm or deny what he suspected was actually spot on truth.

“I also know what guys your age fall back on when they’re scared,” Jared continued, a look of empathy clear in the lines around his eyes. “They lash out, and they project their own insecurities onto whoever’s around them. And in this case, I think that’s been you for quite a long time, hasn’t it?”

Jensen’s lips sat in a thin, straight line as he tried not to react, but Jared was right on the money with that one, and Jensen suspected that Jared knew he was.

“It used to be me,” Jared admitted with a tight smile, clearly trying to force different words out of his mouth but not quite saying what he wanted to. “I used to be right where you are. They used to call me everything that they call you: faggot, fairy boy, butt buddy… and a hell of a lot worse,” he admitted, and Jensen swallowed nervously. “And I fought back, just like you did.” the older man took a deep breath, and Jensen’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Because I was terrified that if I didn’t fight back, they’d know that everything they were accusing me of was true.”

Jensen let out a deep, shaky breath as his heart skipped once, twice; stumbling back into a rhythm eventually as Jared let his statement sit between them in silence.

“I–” Jensen’s voice cracked embarrassingly when he tried to speak, but Jared didn’t react, just waited patiently for him to start again. “Do you think they did know? That it was true?” he finally asked, his voice still shaking nervously. “Or did they just say that shit because they knew it would make you fight back?”

“I don’t really know,” Jared admitted sadly. “Is that what happened again today, Jensen? The same thing that happened with Anderson?”

Jensen nodded weakly.

“They were messin’ with Baby,” he repeated. “That’s why I went over to ‘em in the first place. They were talkin’ at dinner last week about lettin’ all the horses out, driving ‘em crazy, make ‘em all skip out. I told them to shut it when I heard, told ‘em I’d beat the shit out of ‘em if they even went near the stables. So when I saw they had Baby out in the paddock, no harness no nothin’ I ran in there and–” Jensen broke off, taking a breath to steady himself, trying not to let his anger seep through to the surface, trying to sound neutral and unaffected, so Jared might, maybe give him another chance here.

“They started calling me horsefucker, ‘cause I like being around ‘em so much,” he scoffed, and Jared’s brows rose towards his shaggy, chestnut hair in surprise. “But then they uh, they said no, I wouldn’t fuck with Baby because she’s a girl. I’d be the one bending over for the stallions. Said I didn’t want to go back to Gainesville because I only had the guards to fuck me there, and I liked the horse cocks better,” he finished bitterly, his heart rate already jumping up in anger again.

“Jensen, none of the guards at Gainesville… They didn’t, did they?” Jared asked with obvious concern.

“Oh uh, not um, not ever with me,” Jensen admitted awkwardly. “There were rumours, I mean, about others, older guys from a while ago, y’know. But they uh, they never tried anything with me.”

Jared nodded in relief and took a deep breath. He looked like he’d swallowed something incredibly sour, and Jensen couldn’t blame him. Most of his own memories made him feel the way Jared looked right now.

“I don’t know why I keep doin’ it,” Jensen said quietly, almost more to himself, an inner lament that happened to make it past a crack in the wall he usually kept all these thoughts penned behind. “I mean, I know where it started,” he kept speaking, looking up at Jared, and he didn’t know why but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop talking. Maybe it was the fact that Jared had opened up to him first, that he knew, with an astonishing amount of confidence, that Jared would never rat him out for this.

“When I was fourteen, I started dating um, this guy,” Jensen flicked his eyes up to Jared’s face, but there wasn’t any visible reaction, no shock, no disgust, just a mild, curious patience behind kind and honest eyes. “Me and him were uh, the only ones at our school, I think, anyways. And we never told anybody but somehow, someone found out. And one day the whole school was talking about it, and this other guy, Travis, he started sayin’ a bunch of shit to us. Said he’d tell the principal, get us expelled, said he’d tell our folks. Said he’d…” Jensen felt his throat close around the words, but he forced them out. “Said he’d knife us, and it would be doing the world a favour.

“I never believed him, thought he was just talking a big game to look tough at school, you know. But then, he followed us out one night, at the movies, then the bowling alley, we couldn’t shake him. And I got fucking sick of it and did the dumbest fucking…” Jensen wiped the moisture that was gathering in his eyes away, refusing to let it fall. “I kissed him, right there in front of Travis. Hoped it would scare him off. I didn’t see he had a knife in his pocket.”

“Fuck,” Jared swore under his breath, looking as if he might be on the verge of tears himself.

“I panicked, obviously,” Jensen scoffed and Jared nodded in understanding, but didn’t interrupt. “Kicked his feet out from under him, he fell back and cracked his head on the side of the curb and just like that it was over. He was in a coma.

“My parents didn’t know I was… y’know,” Jensen gulped. “And when I told them my side of it, and they got me the lawyer, they said I had to plead guilty, because if I pleaded self-defence in open court I’d have to tell them why Travis attacked us. The knife went down the gutter, there was no proof he ever had one. They were more ashamed to have a son who is the way I am than a son who was convicted of aggravated assault and locked up in juvie,” he scoffed, the reality of his life still unbelievably absurd, even to his own ears.

“So, here I am,” Jensen shrugged, clearing his throat. “They didn’t want me back when I was paroled, so this place was the next best thing.”

“I am so sorry, Jensen,” Jared grimaced, leaning forward on his forearms. “You never deserved any of this.”

“God might see it differently,” Jensen attempted a joke to lighten the mood.

“Fuck God,” Jared rolled his eyes, and Jensen let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. “It’s okay, you can laugh,” Jared smiled at him kindly, and Jensen let himself smile just a little. “Thank you for telling me, I know how hard that must have been for you.”

“Thanks for not pulling a knife on me when you found out,” Jensen smirked, and Jared laughed this time, throwing his head back wildly, his eyes lighting up in joy.

“Hey, same to you,” Jared grinned, and Jensen had almost forgotten for a moment that Jared had made the same admission. The man that he had been lusting over for the past six weeks had told him that they were the same. All of a sudden Jensen felt his heart in his throat because all he could think about was how he’d been lying on top of Jared in the yard, the stunningly attractive man shirtless and sweaty beneath him, and how he had most definitely felt himself popping a semi before he’d gotten his thoughts under control.

Fuck, what if Jared felt it? It’s one thing having Jared know he’s into dudes, it’s a whole other thing for Jared to know he’s into him.

Jensen leapt to his feet without really knowing where he was going, but just knowing he couldn’t sit here with Jared for one moment longer or his heart might actually beat so hard it exploded.

“I, uh… should I still go pack my stuff?” Jensen asked awkwardly, realising that despite the reasoning behind all of his violent behaviour, he had still broken Jared’s rules.

“No, Jensen, I’m not sending you back to Gainesville,” Jared shook his head. “But you’ve gotta stop beating up the other guys, even if they fucking deserve it, okay? Just get yourself out of the situation, and if you want, you come and tell me, and I’ll take care of it. If you keep kicking the shit out of people, they’re gonna start asking why I haven’t shipped you off yet, you understand?”

“Yessir,” Jensen nodded immediately, relief flooding every vein in his body.

“Okay, get yourself upstairs. You’re gonna have dinner in your room and stay inside until Baxter and Cameron are gone tomorrow. If we make it look like you got house arrest for the fight today hopefully that will keep the guys off your back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jensen nodded gratefully, edging towards the door, desperate to escape and be alone with the tirade of thoughts that are spinning through his mind right now, becoming more and more inappropriate by the second.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jared smiled softly, nodding towards the door, and Jensen recognised the dismissal, shooting out the door and down the hall before Jared had the chance to notice that his downstairs brain had taken a keen interest in the topic of Jared’s sexuality.

Jared could have let one of the other boys bring the tray of dinner up to Jensen in his room, he could have even asked one of his other staff to do it, but here he was bringing it up the stairs himself. He told himself that he was thinking of Jensen’s best interests here, that the boy had had a difficult and emotionally exhausting day, and wouldn’t want anyone butting into his business. There was certainly some truth in that, but Jared knew that on the whole, his reasons were entirely selfish. He wanted to see Jensen again. He wanted to be near him again.

Since Jensen had left his office that afternoon, Jared’s mind hadn’t been able to pull itself out of the goddamn gutter. Sure, he’d had his suspicions, but actually getting the confirmation that Jensen was gay had set the gears in his mind spinning, and absolutely nothing he had done managed to slow them down. It was like his brain had forgotten every other reason that he and Jensen could never be involved with each other – their age difference, the fact that Jensen was technically in his care, the fact that being gay was still fucking illegal – and had decided to focus on the one reason why it might be possible: Jensen was gay, just like him.

And if Jensen was gay, that could mean that maybe, if the universe was interested in cutting either of them a fucking break for once, he might have the same inappropriate feelings for Jared that Jared was having for him. Jared knew how unlikely that was, but it didn’t stop him wanting to be around Jensen, because apparently he’s a giant masochist.

All the other boys were still downstairs in the canteen, and the hallway upstairs was eerily quiet. Jared could hear the floorboards creaking under his boots as he pushed off the top step and rounded the corner. As he came up to Jensen’s door, he realised he had a small problem: he couldn’t knock or open the door while he was holding the tray of dinner. Momentarily flummoxed, Jared looked between the tray and the doorknob, wishing he’d put tables in the hallway or something. He’d have to look into that. As he came to the conclusion that he could just knock with the toe of his boot, an odd sound reached his ears.

There was a creak of wood, then a groan of metal, and then a grunt of a far more human variety. Jared paused, listening curiously, and there it was again – that low, breathy moan, long and drawn out; at the same time conveying both aggravation and relief. A dull thumping started up, rhythmic and soft, and the blood in Jared’s body separated: half to his face, turning his cheeks beet red, and the other half to his cock, which went instantly stiff the moment the realisation of what Jensen was doing in his room crashed over him.

Jared had no idea what to do. Did he knock and interrupt the boy? Did he leave the tray of dinner outside for Jensen to find? Did he leave and come back with the food later? He was impossibly frozen. He didn’t want to knock and interrupt Jensen, that would be wildly inappropriate, because the only reason Jared was even contemplating that course of action was because he wanted to see what Jensen looked like when he was getting off.

Would he answer the door without a shirt, trousers hastily done up, skin flushed with the colour of his arousal? Would he be embarrassed? Or would he be able to brush it off and hide what he had been doing? No, Jared couldn’t invade his privacy like that. Not to mention, these poor boys barely got any time to themselves, living with roommates like they had at Gainesville, and now here at the ranch. This was probably the first time Jensen had had an opportunity to take care of business in ages.

Just as Jared had almost decided on leaving and coming back later with the tray of food – if he left it now, Jensen would know that he’d been overheard, and that whoever brought it up hadn’t knocked because they knew what he was doing inside – the low knocking of the bed frame against the wall, and the occasional soft groans, were eclipsed by a new sound; a whining, desperate, breathless sound. A word, actually. A name.

“Jared.”

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He’d hoped his parents would come to his hearing. He’d hoped they would have come to take him home. He’d hoped they might have decided they gave a damn after not seeing him for three years. He wasn’t gonna hope anymore. There wasn’t any reason Quarter Creek Ranch would be better than Gainesville State School had been. Juvie was juvie, as far as Jensen was concerned, this new one just came with horses. Well, that was a little better, Jensen admitted to himself, the bitter taste of the dust settling through the open windows and onto his tongue spurring on his bitter thoughts.

Jared watched from the barn door as the rickety shuttle sputtered to a halt in the yard, kicking up dirt in swirling clouds. The door wrenched open with a raking creak of un-oiled metal and a stream of boys filed out of the dust; an army of clones in thin white t-shirts and rough hewn jeans, matching denim shirts, some slung over their shoulders, some tied around waists, some sticking out of the front pockets of their identical, black canvas backpacks, state issued work boots dragging over the earth. Most of their expressions were identical too, excitement shining as luridly as the sweat on their brows after the stuffy shuttle ride down a Texas highway.

The last boy to file off the bus looked like he’d swallowed the diesel fuel the shuttle runs on. Jared managed to choke down his laugh but he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. There’s always one who came into the program who’d already decided that it would be the worst experience of their life. As long as the kid didn’t cause any trouble for the others, or the horses, Jared didn’t mind.

The officer that had driven the shuttle down from Gainesville waddled off the bus behind the cargo of boys, stretching his limbs out, stiff from the long drive.

“Howdy!” he raised his hand in greeting, joviality at odds with what Jared expected from a juvenile prison guard. He raised his hat briefly in a return greeting, pushing off the weathered wood of the barn door he’d been leaning on and swaggering forwards into the yard to meet his new ranch hands.

They’re a pretty rowdy bunch – Jared expected that. Open air that’s not stunted by ten foot chain link fences would be a refreshing change of pace for anyone who had been shut away in a state facility for as long as these boys had been. They’re all jostling together in a bundle, knocking shoulders and kicking shins as the officer herded them toward Jared. The sullen one hung at the back of the throng, a deep scowl on his full, pink lips. The boy’s tongue darted out to rehydrate them in the dry heat, and Jared wanted to kick himself just for noticing that this eighteen year old kid was attractive – even if he was attractive as hell.

Jared wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Alright!” Jared shouted and clapped his hands to get their attention, his voice booming out of his chest a little lower than its standard pitch, establishing his authority out of the gate. “My name’s Jared, I’m the owner of Quarter Creek Ranch, where y’all have elected to spend your rehabilitation.”

The officer finally made it to the front of the crowd and handed over a clipboard of names, which Jared took with a grateful smile.

“We’re gonna do a roll call twice a day,” he waved the clipboard at the group eyeing him suspiciously, “until I get to know all your names, and until I feel like I can trust you not to run off.”

There’s a discontented groan from the collective, which Jared was expecting, but he doesn’t let it stop his speech.

“This is not our first time running this program, and you will not be the first group to have a couple of runners.” Jared’s eyes couldn’t help but flick accusingly towards the disgruntled boy at the back. “Let me tell you, we’re about five miles of nothing from anywhere that even resembles a real road and almost no one drives by this way, so I guarantee me and my boys will find you before you find any way outta here.” Jared looked back at the kid again, but his expression hadn’t changed.

“You’re all in rooms of four up at the house,” Jared jerked his thumb behind him toward the sandy sided farmhouse with the big wrap-around porch, “and each room of four has their own bathroom. I’m gonna call off your names, then y’all can go inside and get cleaned up, then I expect y’all downstairs again at six-thirty for dinner.”

There were general rumbles of hushed chatter at the prospect of a shower and food and Jared cleared his throat again so he didn’t have to talk over them.

“Ackles!” he started at the top of the list, and heard a shuffle as ‘Ackles’ moved to the front of the crowd. Jared looked up to see the boy he’d been having trouble keeping his eyes off of. He looked back down at his list. Jensen. No chance he’d be forgetting this kid’s name.

“Anderson!” A lanky, greasy looking teen stepped forward and stood next to Jensen.

“Baxter!” A broad kid with a severe buzz cut that showed off the tattoo on his scalp joined the line.

“Cameron!” Jared finished, watching the last boy join his new roommates. “Okay y’all, room one, up you get,” he pointed them towards the house and they trudged off, Jensen glancing back at Jared as he passed, his reliably stoic expression faltering almost imperceptibly before the mask was back up and he looked away again, following his new roommates.

Jared watched the group until Jensen was out of sight, filing up the porch behind the others. The shift he’d seen in those eyes when they’d met his had him worried. It had been so brief, so well controlled, that he couldn’t interpret whatever starburst of emotion had flashed through that cold, deep green. It had sent an uncomfortable prickle down his spine, and settled low in his gut. He’d be keeping a close eye on Ackles, that’s for sure.

Jensen kicked his boots off unceremoniously when he and the others reached their new room. One landed under the single bed to the right of the door, and he took it as a sign that that space would be his now. He nudged his other boot under the bed to join the first and dropped onto the mattress with a shuddering creak; he couldn’t tell if it was coming from the bed frame or his bones.

“I got first shower!” Anderson didn’t even bother claiming a bed before he rushed past them all into the small en suite at the back of the room, heavy wooden partition sliding closed behind him with a thunk. No one argued with him – Anderson stunk – poor guy always looked like he’d taken a swim in the runoff from a fry up joint.

Baxter looked around the space measuredly before stomping over to the bed next to Jensen’s, and only then did Cameron step forward and pick one out for himself. Cameron had kept close to Baxter ever since he’d been brought into the system. He was a weedy guy, with a gap in his teeth the width of the Mississippi and a lisp that made him sound like he’d been out picking cotton all day and inhaled more of the product than he’d harvested. Kids like him didn’t do well in juvie without someone higher up the food chain watching their back.

Leslie Baxter scared the shit out of most of the residents from Gainesville, even made one of the corrections officers cry once, or so the rumour went. The good thing about that: having him as a roommate meant the other boys weren’t much likely to mess with the rest of them.

Secretly, Jensen would bet all the money he didn’t have that there was another reason Baxter and Cameron stuck so close together, but if you went around calling guys named Leslie and Taylor a couple in a boys correctional facility in North Texas … well, you just didn’t do that. At least, Jensen would never do that – could never do that – to somebody.

Anderson wandered out of the shower a couple minutes later, dingy white towel tucked high and tight around his waist, hiding the abs Jensen knew he didn’t have. He’d never been one for exercise or manual labour, Anderson. He preferred lounging around the yard they’d been let out in twice a day, sneaking cigarettes as soon as he was old enough to get in with the senior crowd at the facility.

Jensen pulled himself off his bed, legs swinging around to the side closer to the shower, and toed off his socks. He could see the floor of the small bathroom shining with water and soap suds, curls of steam rising off the tiles as the hot water met the slightly cooler draft from the air conditioned bedroom. Thank god for the small mercies that it was actually down as inhumane to lock them up in Texas without at least a fan or something to move the air around. The little window unit sat humming away between Jensen and Baxter’s beds.

Cameron started to get up from his bed at the same time as Jensen did and tried to slip into the bathroom ahead of him, but Jensen’s long legs caught up to him quick, and he yanked Cameron back by the scruff of his shirt. “Not a chance, short stuff,” Jensen grunted, hauling him back onto his bed. Cameron looked to Baxter, asking for permission to turn this into a tussle, but Baxter just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“It’s a shower, dude,” he scoffed. “Ackles’ll be two minutes, you know the guy don’t bother to wash his junk.”

The occupants of the room all laughed, and Jensen rolled his eyes, but nodded to Baxter in acknowledgement that he hadn’t okay’d anyone taking a swing at him. They both knew it was just for appearances. Jensen didn’t have any reason to be grateful, he could have squashed Cameron like a cowpat, easy, and Baxter knew it. He was saving Cameron the embarrassment, not sparing Jensen a beating.

Most of the crew that had come down to the Ranch for their rehab hadn’t been inside as long as Jensen. Baxter was one of the few who’d arrived in the same crop of delinquents they’d shipped out from Dallas five years ago. Baxter’d done a lot of his terrorizing once he’d been sanctioned, Jensen had done his before. It’s what landed him there, and the rumours that landed with him were enough to keep guys off his case – even guys like Baxter. No one was quite sure if it was true or not, but the story was some twink was laid up in Dallas County Hospital with a ventilator and no sign of brain function thanks to him.

Jensen never cared to comment.

True to reputation, he was only in the shower a couple minutes; scrubbing the dust clouds off his skin and out of his scalp, and he did drag the bar of soap down under his balls and up the crack of his ass after he noticed there was only one. A special present for Cameron, who was sure to jump in next.

Jared surveyed the canteen and its new bundle of occupants apprehensively. Taking in a crowd of sixteen to nineteen year old juveniles was a risky venture he’d inherited from his Daddy. They hadn’t had a new crop since a few years ago when his father had had that fall and gone into the old folks home; the ranch had been too big and too stairs-based to make it worth trying to outfit the whole operation as handicapable.

When Jared moved back home to look after the place, he wasn’t ready to jump into running a youth program on top of the actual ranching business so they’d had to take a pause while he got his bearings. His Daddy died last year, but Jared’s dying promise to him was that he’d get The QCR Juvenile Rehabilitation program back up and running. Looking around at the room full of young, cautious faces, Jared prayed this would all be worth it.

As they settled down on their benches, plates brimming with beans, rice, and their slabs of grilled chicken, the boys started to drop their masks and stopped looking around so suspiciously. Cool air and warm, full bellies had a way of helping teens drop their guard a little bit.

Jared started to see the cliques that had migrated with them from the detention center. The boys weren’t sitting with their roommates, except in a couple select cases. He couldn’t help his eyes wandering toward the four boys he’d put in the first room. The big one and the little one, Baxter and Cameron he thought, were sat together. The stringy one that he couldn’t remember the name of was off with another group across the room. It took another minute for him to find the one he was looking for, Jensen, sat at the back table, in the corner farthest from Jared.

Ackles wasn’t sitting alone exactly, there were other kids on either side of him, but he wasn’t speaking to any of them. He wasn’t participating. It was like he was off in his own head, like he didn’t need the social interaction the others craved.

Jared thought back to what he’d been told in his course about antisocial behaviour in juvenile delinquents. Reluctance to interact with their peers is often a precursor to further issues with aggression when the delinquent is released back into civil society, his head quoted the handbook back at him. Now vaguely concerned by what he observed of Ackles thus far, Jared sought him out again and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Jensen wasn’t in the seat he’d been in just seconds before.

Panicking, hopefully invisibly, Jared’s eyes swept the room, looking for that sandy brown hair shot through with sun or the freckled face or the striking green eyes, any feature he could remember. He finally hit upon Ackles, passing behind a group of boys that had just stood up with their empty plates and in his breath of relief it struck him; that had been a strange set of traits for his brain to pick out about one of his juvenile detainees. So far he mentally identified most of them as: ‘the one with the eagle tattoo’, ‘the one that needed a haircut’, ‘the one that looked like he could bench press 200 pounds’. Ackles, despite his stern gaze and aloof attitude and altogether unnerving presence, had somehow found himself with the label of ‘the incredibly fuckable one’.

Jared flinched at his own thoughts, ashamed that he could even be attracted to someone in his care like these boys were, someone half his age. Heart sinking, Jared recognised that he’d already crossed a line without realising what his motivations were; he knew Ackles was half his age because after he’d done the roll call in the yard he’d gone inside and pulled out the file on ‘Ackles, Jensen’ to check him out. At the time he’d told himself he needed to read up on the kid because he’d already presented as a concern but the reality of the situation couldn’t be avoided now he recognised the path his thoughts had turned down. Jared was loath to admit that maybe it was men like him that gave the gay community a bad reputation. Admiring Jensen, even from afar, had to be treading the line of predation, didn’t it?

A crash and a cacophony of shouts pulled Jared from his contemplation of his young charge. In his preoccupation, Jared hadn’t noticed Jensen’s smallest roommate, Cameron, stand up from his bench and make his way down towards Jared’s end of the room. He hadn’t seen what happened, but Cameron was now squaring up to one of the other guys – one of the ones that looked like they could bench press him, easy.

Jensen and Baxter looked up towards the commotion and Jared saw both roll their eyes. Apparently this wasn’t unusual. The sound of an actual punch being thrown broke Jared out of his second reverie and spurred him towards the ring that had begun to form around the spectacle. The fighters were pretty well walled in, and Jared had trouble breaking through. Baxter appeared in his line of sight amidst jeers from the crowd, easily pushing in and stepping in front of Cameron to defend him from the other boy.

“Your little butt buddy started it,” he growled in Baxter’s face, not backing down.

“Yeah, and I’m finishing it!” Jared shouted, finally pushing through and inserting himself in between them. “That’s my first warning for all three of you,” Jared pointed sternly at Baxter, Cameron, and Sanchez (he finally remembered the name of the other kid). “We’re not playing baseball here either fellas. Any of y’all start something again you’re going back North, no third strike necessary. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” they all grumbled reluctantly, Cameron and Sanchez still seething.

“Everyone back to your rooms now, get!” Jared ushered them towards the exit to the canteen, watching the crowd mosey out, chattering away. It was like the fight had broken some kind of tension and helped them all relax. Maybe now it felt more like home, what they were used to before. Jared looked around helplessly at the smiles, despairing a little inside. That facility in Gainesville must have been a hell of a place.

Jared was about to exit himself and lock the door behind him when he spotted Jensen still sat quietly in the corner, leaning back off the bench to rest against the wall behind him and mindlessly flicking through the pocket Bible they were required to provide in each room by the state. Being alone in the room with him made something queasy stir in Jared’s stomach, and he was surprised at the edge in his own voice when he spoke.

“Ackles,” he barked roughly, sound coming out scratchy and low. The boy flicked his eyes up from the Bible in his hands to look at Jared, bright green peeking through unfairly pretty eyelashes. “You uh, you can’t stay here. Back to your room,” Jared jerked a thumb down the hall in the direction all his fellow residents had just gone.

Jensen got up without speaking, tucking the Bible into the back of his jeans and moseying forward – towards Jared rather than the door. He stopped just short of him, looking up the couple of inches Jared had on him. For a moment, too long really, Jensen just stared at Jared, implacable. Jared only stared back helplessly.

“Yessir,” Jensen finally spoke, voice heavy with Texas and sarcasm, tilting an imaginary cowboy hat in deference to Jared before he brushed past him and walked down the hall to the dormitories without a backward glance.

The work Jensen is rotated through on the ranch gets duller by the day. He didn’t know how the head honcho was selecting who got which assignments, and it was probably random, but Jensen felt like he was being personally singled out with the worst jobs there were.

Anderson had been on the same duties in the stables since day one. He and a few others were learning how to groom the horses from some of the permanent, non-delinquent hands they had on staff. Cameron and Baxter had somehow wound up in the same group, despite that being one of the worst ideas ever, because they never got anything done when they were together. Or at least never got it done well. They had been out in some of the back fields mending fences and burning down some of the old grass. And what guy doesn’t want to mess around with fire all day and then hit some stuff? That sounded like a great way to spend the day if you asked Jensen.

But he had been stuck inside the whole friggin’ time he’d been on this goddamn ranch; right under the nose of the top gun himself. Jared wouldn’t. Leave him. Alone. Everywhere he went the guy was watching him. He tried to do it surreptitiously, but Jensen had spent the past five years watching his own back in juvie; he knew how it felt when someone had their eyes on him.

Today, Jensen was stuck in the kitchen on prep duty with Rocco and DJ, another pair that happened to get stationed with their buddies. Jensen swore he was the only one who kept winding up on his own. Though, he reflected on his dissatisfaction, maybe that was because he didn’t really have any friends among this group of guys in the first place.

He wondered idly, as he tore lettuce into chunks (they weren’t allowed knives), why it seemed to bother him so much more here than it had back in Gainesville. Maybe it was because they were out, but not really out. The ranch felt a lot closer to the real world, so Jensen had subconsciously expected to start plugging in again like he had the last time he’d been free. Expected it to feel more like highschool had, maybe, back when he’d actually had friends. When he’d had a boyfriend.

But it was useless thinking like that, Jensen realized. This place was just another kind of prison. Albeit – Jared walked through the kitchen door right on cue – one with much better eye candy than juvie had had. As irritating as it was to have him looking over his shoulder all the friggin’ time, Jensen could still admit that the owner of Quarter Creek Ranch was smokin’ hot. Like, hotter than Texas at the height of summer, hot.

Yesterday, Jensen had seen Jared ride into the stables while he’d been mucking out stalls – the closest he’d gotten to the horses the whole time they’d been here – and he damn near had heart palpitations. The sight of that man with his thighs spread wide across the animal’s back and sweaty from the baking sun was something else. Jensen had actually choked on his own breath for a moment when he’d caught sight of the way the leather reins were tangled in Jared’s long, rough fingers. He couldn’t tell which he wanted more: the leather straps wrapping around his neck, or Jared’s hands.

Juvie had given him some kinks; sue him. He’d had to make do with the skin mags he could pinch from the guards and none of them were particularly his thing, so he’d settled for imagination, and he’d had a ready memory of the feel of handcuffs sinking into his flesh.

Jensen was distracted now by Jared’s fingers flying in front of his face, and he jumped back reflexively before he registered what he was doing. He hadn’t been in any danger, he realized. Jared was just reaching for a chunk of lettuce from the growing pile Jensen had in front of him. The man popped the piece into his waiting mouth, stubbled chin working methodically as he chewed, Adam's apple bobbing as the vegetable made its way down his throat.

Jensen just stood there in bristly silence as Jared stared him down for a moment, simultaneously reaching for a second piece of lettuce. What the hell was his deal? Jensen wondered.

“You got something you wanna say there, Ackles?” Jared raised an eyebrow and stole another piece of lettuce.

Jensen felt his hands ball into fists at his side. It wasn’t like Jared was doing anything particularly malicious, or even that annoying, except that Jensen could tell he was doing it to mess with him, to see if there was some way to get him riled up and push him into lashing out. What the fuck was this guy’s problem?

“Do you like the lettuce, sir?” Jensen asked dryly, because he didn’t know what the fuck else to say, but he sure as hell knew he wasn’t going to rise to this bait.

“Good work on the tearing,” Jared smirked and moved on to inspect Rocco and DJ’s work, but not before Jensen caught a glimpse of something cagey behind the dark of his eyes. He was confused for a moment, he could have sworn Jared had lighter eyes than that – all blue and hazel and gray warped together – but then he realized it must have been Jared’s pupils, dilated far beyond reason for someone who was hanging out in a kitchen stealing bites of poorly prepared raw vegetables.

“Good work over here too, guys,” Jared nodded approvingly, looking over the rest of the food prep. “Go on and wash up, then head outside and help José unload the feed bags for the horses.”

“You got it boss,” DJ gave Jared an insincere salute and shot out the door with Rocco close on his heels. Jensen turned to trudge after them when a thick forearm blocked his path.

“Not you, Ackles.” Jared’s expression as he looked down at him was unreadable. Jensen met his stare evenly, trying not to let his irritation become visible.

“Something else you need, sir?” he forced himself to ask politely.

“Since you did such a good job with the lettuce, we’re gonna move you on to bigger and better things.” Jared spun around, and Jensen watched him suspiciously as moved back to the kitchen counter. Using a key he had on a loop of his belt, Jared unlocked a drawer and pulled out a, clearly very dull, knife. Jensen’s brow shot up in surprise.

“You trust me with that?”

Jared looked back at him quizzically, dropping a bag of potatoes on the counter next to where he’d set the knife.

“You gonna give me a reason not to?” Jared’s brow quirked up to match Jensen’s.

Jensen didn’t answer the question. He stomped up to the kitchen counter and picked up the knife, grabbing a potato in the other hand.

“What shape am I cutting these into?” Jensen’s voice was monotone, unemotional. He wasn’t going to be grateful to Jared for the extra work when the other boys got a break, but he wasn’t going to give him a reason to regret this decision to take a chance with him either.

“What shape am I cutting these into, sir,” Jared corrected, and though Jensen couldn’t see him he could hear the cocky smirk the man was wearing, loud and clear.

“Yessir, sorry sir,” Jensen spoke through clenched teeth. He refused to turn around to see the glee that he was sure must be on Jared’s face.

“Better,” Jared confirms. “Long and thick, Ackles.”

Jensen spluttered, choking on thin air. He’d been wondering just a second ago if Jared’s cock was as big as his attitude; how had he known what Jensen had been thinking?

“I’m sorry sir?” Jensen’s cheeks were flaming red, he couldn’t turn to look at Jared to see if the man’s expression gave anything away.

“The potatoes, Ackles,” Jared answered evenly, and Jensen blushed even deeper.

“Oh, uh, right. Yessir.” Fuck, he hated Jared.

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They were both in the stables today, Jared and Jensen, though Jensen wasn’t actually working with the horses. Jared and José were working on Champion, carefully de-shoeing the old stallion, after he’d managed to dent one of them quite badly on his last ride out. This wasn’t anything Jared trusted the new hands to help with so soon after their arrival, so he offered to give José a hand himself. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that Jensen was set to be mucking out the stalls that same morning.

Nope. Not a thing.

Jared could feel Jensen’s eyes on his back from across the expanse of the stables, but he couldn’t turn to look back, nervous he’d spook Champion while he was holding his hoof steady. The de-shoeing process was tedious, as Champion wasn’t being overly cooperative. His favourite mare, Baby, was kicking up a fuss too; knocking against her stable walls impatiently, trying to get to Champion, who was tethered in the center aisle of the barn.

“Baby, settle on down girl,” Jared cooed while he tried to get a more firm grip on the hoof with the damaged shoe – this would be the tough one. “You’re gettin’ Champ all riled up now and I need him to stand still, huh mister?” Jared patted Champion’s flank comfortingly before he tried to go for his hoof again, José standing back, clinchers at the ready.

Baby wasn’t settling down, and the longer she tossed around in her stall, the antsier Champion got too. Jared could feel Jensen staring their way again, and since he had to drop the leg he was holding to avoid Champion kicking him in the nuts, Jared figured he’d take his momentary freedom to turn and tell Ackles to get back to work.

As Jared suspected, Jensen had set down his stall rake and given up the pretense of working, but he wasn’t watching Jared, his eyes were fixed cautiously on Baby. Slowly, he crept forward, making his way to the stall door before the mare took any notice of him. Jared wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell Ackles to stop – he should have – Baby was a temperamental animal, and Jensen could just as easily wind up getting hurt himself. But, he was being very careful in how he approached her, palm stretched out flat in greeting, and Jared felt a shocked laugh squeeze out of his throat when he realised there was a small sugar cube sitting in the boy’s palm

That sneaky bastard must have brought some out from breakfast.

Baby had noticed Jensen and his sugar cube now, and with a whinny she tossed her head and bent in his direction. She nuzzled her dark auburn head against his hand, knocking the sugar to the ground and bending to retrieve it. When her head popped back up over the stall door, Jensen had another sugar cube ready to replace the first. Baby snatched this one right off Jensen’s hand, chewing against his palm and licking the skin to pick up every trace of sweetness she could.

Jared watched in awe as Jensen brought his other hand up, still clearly harboring a bit of trepidation, and laid it gently over the white diamond patch on the crown of her head. Baby whickered a little, shaking her head, and Jensen pulled his hand off the horse but didn’t move too far. He hovered there until she settled, then gave her another experimental stroke down the length of her face.

“There’s a sweet girl,” Ackles murmured gently to the creature, reaching up to brush through her main soothingly. “Good girl,” he cooed again, continuing his languid strokes down her neck.

Stunned into an impressed silence, Jared allowed himself a few more moments to gawp at the pair before seizing the opportunity Jensen had provided them, and turning his attention back to Champion and José.

“Right, let’s do this quick,” Jared nodded at his rancher, and they set about un-nailing the broken shoe from Champion’s hoof. When all the iron was finally off, Champion pranced in place for a moment, celebrating the lightness of his foot. “Good job buddy, good job,” Jared praised him, petting down his glossy coat happily.

José unhooked Champion’s bridle from the rings keeping him in place and walked him back to his own stall a few doors down. Attention now free, Jared turned to Jensen curiously. His gut reaction was to scold, and be harsh, but he bit it back. Maybe he had been wrong about this guy. Maybe Jared could trust him.

“You like horses?” Jared asked instead, and Jensen nodded cautiously.

“Yessir.”

“Okay then,” Jared nodded, considering his options. “You want to swap teams with Sanchez? They keep spookin’ him out,” he chuckled to himself at the memory of Sanchez accidently jumping backwards into the feed trough the previous week when a horse had neighed in his face.

“I– uh…” Jensen’s mouth opened and closed comically while he found his words, and for a second Jared thought he might reject the offer out of rebellion or spite. “Can I trade after lunch?”

Jared let out a deep booming laugh, remembering that after lunch, Jensen was meant to be back on the food prep rotation with Rocco and DJ. Collecting himself, Jared gave the boy an obliging nod.

“Yeah, you two can swap after lunch. Go on, get yourself fed,” he jerked his chin in the direction of the farmhouse, smiling to himself as Jensen walked back with the first show of genuine emotion Jared had ever seen from him. He decided he liked the look of happiness on Jensen.

Baby whinnied excitedly as Jensen approached her, bucket full of cool, sudsy water in one hand and sponge in the other. Anderson followed behind him, scuffing his boots along the cement floor of the stable, kicking up hay and dust the whole way.

“Would you cut it out man?” Jensen complained, waiting for Anderson by the stall door because he didn’t have any free hands to open it.

“Oh, sorry, did I get dirt on you, pretty boy?” Anderson sneered cruelly, purposefully kicking up a clump of hay as he pushed his way into Baby’s stall.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Jensen mocked with a false seductive glare. “Better not let any of the other guys hear that. They’ll tie you to the back of a horse and yell ‘giddy up’!” Anderson mumbled something under his breath in response but Jensen didn’t care enough to ask him what he said. Dipping his sponge into the bucket, he set about the task of rinsing Baby down from her ride earlier.

Anderson stayed quiet as they worked, brushing inattentively at the mare’s main, eyes wandering everywhere other than his current task. Even his sour mood couldn’t dampen Jensen’s spirits today though. Baby was his favorite horse out of all of them, and Jensen thought he might have been her favourite out of all the ranch hands – even Jared.

“Man, why do you like this shit so much?” Anderson piped up from the opposite side of the horse.

“Like what?” Jensen asked absentmindedly, still focusing on Baby.

“Workin’,” Anderson scoffed. “Even back at the lockup you were always workin’ on school and shit. I figured you thought you were better than all’a’us, but here you’re doing the same boring shit as every other motherfucker here and you’re smiling away like your Daddy came home for Christmas.”

“I don’t know,” Jensen shrugged, not particularly inclined to have any kind of meaningful discussion with Anderson. Plus, Jensen knew there was a very good reason for his recent improvement in mood, and he wasn’t about to admit that out loud to anyone, or he’d wind up being the kid dragged behind a horse. His recent move to the grooming team had actually resulted in seeing Jared even more than he used to on his old rotation. And spending all day around horses and a smokin’ hot guy was a recipe for a good time in his book.

“That’s all you’re gonna say? I don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen shrugged again, grinning inwardly. He knew it was childish, but for some reason, he couldn’t resist the temptation to wind Anderson up a little. He would have to tread carefully though, because Jared was in the stables too, a few stalls down. He’d caught Jensen’s eye and gave him a cordial nod on his way past Baby’s stall a few minutes earlier.

“Dude, you’re touched in the head or somethin’, ain’t ya,” Anderson didn’t pose it as a question, more like a lament, but Jensen took it like he was expecting an answer anyhow.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, stifling his laughter as he bent down to douse his sponge in the bucket for fresh water. He wasn’t laughing a moment later when Anderson stomped around Baby and gave Jensen a kick, sending him sprawling head first towards the ground. Somewhat luckily, his head was cushioned by plunging into the pail of water, rather than smacking face first into the concrete beneath his feet, but he wasn’t wholly unscathed. A bit of rusty metal snagged his ear on the way out of the bucket and sent a trail of blood streaming down the side of his neck.

“What the fuck was that?” Jensen shouted angrily, shaking his head so water and blood flew in all directions as he tried to clear his eyes.

“You were bent over, homo, figured you were asking for it,” Anderson shot back with a nasty grin, stepping forward to shove at Jensen’s chest.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Jensen let himself stumble back, hesitant to rise to the bait knowing that Jared was close by. Surely he’d heard the commotion and he’d be storming in any second to break up the fight.

“You too pussy to fight back Ackles? You’ve always looked like a fuckin’ pussy,” Anderson sneered.

“Funny,” Jensen puffed himself up and fixed his position, ready to stand his ground this time, “I wouldn’t think any girl would’a let you near her pussy before, how do you know what they look like?”

“I know better than you, you fucking faggot!” Anderson took a swing, and Jensen managed to duck just in time, but he didn’t anticipate the knee that came up to his crotch in the same motion. He howled in pain, jumping back.

All the noise was making Baby anxious, and she’d started to knock herself around her stall, hooves stamping furiously in the dust. Jensen smiled in satisfaction when he saw Anderson’s toes get stepped on. While he was jumping up and down in pain, Jensen lunged, pinning him against the slatted wooden wall of the stable partitions and punching the idiot squarely in the jaw.

There was an indistinguishable cacophony of noises ricocheting around them; horses, delinquent teens, ranch hands – Jared.

“Get the hell off’a him!” Jared’s voice shouted right against Jensen’s eardrum, and then he felt his arms being pulled roughly behind his back as he was hauled away from Anderson, who slumped dramatically down the stable gate. “What the fuck was that Ackles?” Jared shook him, the hold putting a painful strain on his shoulders, and there were a million different thoughts swirling through Jensen’s mind: anger at Anderson, anger at himself, anger at Jared, sympathy for the horses they’d disturbed, and a thousand other things. So why, for the love of all things holy, were the thoughts that managed to push to the forefront – Fuck yes. Hold me tighter, Jared. Make it hurt.

Jensen had gotten comfortable far too quickly. He should have known better, he should have kept his guard up. He really should have fucking known better.

Jared was shouting at them. He’d been shouting for a long time now. After they’d been hauled out of the stables and someone had found Anderson an ice pack and gotten Jensen a bandage for his ear, Jared had marched the boys up to their shared room and unleashed hell.

Anderson was packing.

Jared had warned them all their first night here that you only got one fuck up. Your second mistake and you were gone, bundled back on a bus to Gainesville for however long your renewed sentence would be. Bitterly, Jensen hoped Anderson got at least a couple more years for this; something that would land him in an actual prison, not just the juvie center.

Jensen knew it had been stupid, moronic, to get into a fight, especially in the stall with a fucking horse. He felt awful that their idiocy had put Baby in danger, even for however brief a period the fight had lasted. He wanted to apologise to Jared, but it didn’t look like the man was going to run out of breath or things to shout about any time soon, so he held his tongue, sitting awkwardly on the bed while he waited out the storm with trepidation.

He wondered if this incident had been bad enough to warrant him being sent back as well, even though he hadn’t gotten into trouble up until now. He’d even thought Jared was starting to like him lately. Guess he’d ruined that now too, just like everything else in his life. It would be a miracle if he was allowed close enough to the horses to muck out the stalls after what had happened today.

Jensen heard Anderson snap weakly towards Jared’s tirade at him, bringing him out of the reverie he’d suspended himself in, letting Jared’s displeasure wrap around him in its entirety. Anderson wasn’t so ready to take the verbal consequences of his actions.

“That faggot started it,” he snapped weakly at Jared, stuff the last of his things into his backpack roughly.

“I did not!” Jensen shouted, jumping off his bed in defense, at the same time that Jared hissed: “What did you just say?”

Jensen was astonished to see Jared storm forward, grabbing Anderson’s backpack in one hand and the boy’s shoulder in another.

“I will not tolerate that kind of language here, son,” Jared growled threateningly, more serious than Jensen had seen him all day. Anderson was steered harshly out of the room and down the stairs. Jensen followed, curiosity getting the better of him. “You’re staying in solitary tonight, and someone from Gainesville will be here tomorrow to collect you.” Jared pushed Anderson into one of the two single rooms that lined the corridor to the canteen. The boy tried to protest but he was easily overpowered, and Jared pulled the door to the solitary room shut behind him. The lock made a satisfyingly sharp click when it engaged.

Jensen stood at the base of the stairs, blinking in amazement. He’d never seen anyone in a position of authority stand up for him like that. Back at Gainesville, no one got so much as a slap on the wrist for using that language. Hell, Jensen used it himself, sometimes, just to blend in. But Jared had jumped down the kid’s throat with way more ferocity after he’d heard the slur than when he’d only been telling them off for throwing punches.

Did that mean that Jared… Jensen didn’t let himself entertain that question for too long. The prospect of Jared being gay, too, was not something his imagination was equipped to handle at the present moment.

“Hey, I’m sorry he was talkin’ to you like that,” Jared approached Jensen, now considerably calmer, hands resting on his hips like his torso needed the support. “Was that why you were fighting? He was callin’ you that kinda stuff?” Hesitantly, Jensen nodded, and he saw understanding and sympathy flood Jared’s face. “I’m sorry,” Jared apologised again. Jensen shrugged, tried to make out it wasn’t a big deal, but his face must have still looked worried, because Jared gave him another sad smile. “Look I get why this happened, but I’ve gotta be fair. I still have to give you a warning.”

“You mean you’re not sending me back?” Jensen’s head shot up, surprised.

“No, I’m not sendin’ you back, kid,” Jared reassured him, giving Jensen’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“Jare! Jared!” José burst through the front door of the farmhouse and into the hallway, shouting urgently. “Saddle up man, we got runners.”

“Shit!” Jared swore vehemently. “Yeah, throw my saddle on someone, I'll be out in a minute. Do you know who ran?” he asked, hands combing through his hair in nervous aggravation.

“Those two you always got on kitchen duty?” José clearly couldn’t remember their names. “Some of the guys said they saw ‘em go off with some extra bags, they must have been stockpiling food and decided to try their luck while we were all distracted with those two,” the ranch hand motioned callously in Jensen’s direction, and Jensen grimaced.

Jared rolled his eyes, digging the heels of his hands into the sockets in frustration. “Right, let’s try to get them back before it gets too dark out. Ackles, back up to your room, you’re in for the night,” Jared pointed him away, and Jensen nodded meekly.

“Yessir.”

He trudged back up the stairs, feeling horrible, and not just because his head and hands hurt from the fight. If Jared didn’t manage to find DJ and Rocco before nightfall, and something happened to them, that was kind of his fault. He shouldn’t have fought back the way he did, he should have just toughed it out and waited for Jared to turn up. Fucking stupid, Ackles. Now this whole mess was on him.

The window in his room looked out over the stable yard, facing the barn, and Jensen looked down to see Jared swing himself gracefully up onto a stallion, thighs flexing as he settled against the animal. He wheeled his horse around, checking he had everyone he needed, then gave an order Jensen couldn’t hear and spurred the party forward into the prairie, his outline shrinking against the backdrop of the setting sun.

-

The empty bed wasn’t something they talked about. By the time they’d arrived back in the shared room that night, Cameron and Baxter had already heard what had happened to Anderson – what Jensen had done to him. Whispers were flying through the dormitories, renewed gossip about the incident that had gotten Jensen thrown in Juvie in the first place, each version of the story more violent and ridiculous than the last. But anyone who had caught a look at Anderson the next day, before he was unceremoniously pawned off to a state trooper for the trip back to Gainesville, got a pretty good look at Jensen’s handiwork.

Jensen had watched him leave from the safety of his bedroom window, looking down at the boy whose face was a patchwork of yellow, brown and blue, the bright red of his split lip standing out amongst the palette of bruises. Jensen wasn’t particularly sorry for what he’d done, Anderson had had it coming, he was just sorry for all the trouble he’d caused for Jared.

So fuckin’ soft, Ackles. Get your shit together.

Things on the Ranch settled back into the familiar routine after a few days, the excitement of Anderson’s expulsion finally losing its potency. Jared hoped that would be the last he’d hear of it.

DJ and Rocco were still in isolation rooms after their attempt at a prison break, but, despite the stupidity of their transgression, Jared had still left them with their one warning. He didn’t think they’d try to run again, the boys had been exhausted and dehydrated when he and the ranchers found them, collapsed against some gopher holes not even two miles out from the farmhouse. They’d returned home without any fight.

Boy Scouts they most certainly were not, Jared thought wryly.

For the moment, any time either one left their room they had to be supervised, which meant Jared had been spending much more time with DJ and Rocco the past few days, and much less time with Jensen. Maybe that was good, he reflected. He was becoming too attached to the boy; he knew he was. He’d been drawn to Jensen since he stepped off that damn shuttle on day one. And maybe now he knew why.

From the sound of it, there was a more than decent chance that Jensen was actually gay. It would never have occurred to Jared outright. Jensen had always seemed like this tough, dangerous, devil-may-care sort of guy, and in Jared’s experience those things always tended to be accompanied by a taste for bad beer and big boobs. Then again, that was probably unfair of him to assume. Maybe this was what Jared had been picking up on this whole time, what had made him want to get closer to Jensen. Well, that and his very obvious physical attraction to Jensen. Fuck, sometimes it still took him by surprise, how completely captivating Jensen was.

There were moments, sometimes, usually when they were working outside or in the stables, where Jared could feel his eyes on him; he wondered what the kid was thinking at those times. Was he attracted to Jared, too? Jared didn’t think he was bad to look at, overall. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

He took a moment to look up at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall across from his desk. His hair was pushed back off his face, showing off the freckles on his forehead and cheeks that had been showing up more clearly every day of the summer that passed. He’d let his stubble grow out, too busy to shave the past few days, and he thought it gave him a little grit to his appearance; a little more strength, and maybe even a little more sex appeal.

Jared looked back down in exasperation at himself, and caught sight of the grubby vee-neck he was wearing, stained with dirt and still a little sweaty from his morning in the stables. Jensen had been there too. Jared had wanted to stay longer, find a reason to loiter, just so he could watch Jensen grooming the horses. Watch as his shoulders flexed beneath the thin white tank he had on, strong, sinewy muscles bulging out with every pass of the sponge along the animals’ bodies. Jared could even pretend that he didn’t think about fucking the guy every time he bent over to dunk that damn sponge back in the bucket. Jensen’s ass was beautifully defined, firm, and it pressed invitingly against the straining denim every time he leaned over. Jared couldn’t help but stare – and it’s not like Jensen would ever notice, he was always facing the other way.

Remembering that morning proved to be a problem for Jared, and as he was looking at his soiled clothing something else caught his eye. His dick had begun to swell up in his jeans at the mental images of Jensen that were running through his mind’s eye. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it had been happening more and more lately.

Jared dropped the pen he was holding and pressed his chair back from the desk, groaning in discomfort when his fly dug into the tender flesh at his crotch. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Hell, he should be getting hard thinking about a nineteen year old fucking kid in the first place but here he was, and his problem was getting bigger by the second. Having a reason to think that Jensen was gay made it even worse, because for some small sliver of his mind that meant there was hope – hope that his thoughts didn’t have to remain a fantasy. That was a dangerous possibility. No matter how wrong it was for him to want Jensen, if Jensen wanted him back? Yeah, he could have him.

Jared’s hand dropped to his lap, squeezing the bulge that was now at full mast beneath his jeans. He felt himself throb beneath his fingers, and he knew he was too far gone for this problem to solve itself on its own. He’d never let himself do this – jerk off when he knew for a fact that Jensen was the cause of his erection – but something felt different this time. He didn’t care to examine it too closely, because he knew he’d talk himself out of it, and right now he didn’t want to be reasonable, he wanted to get off.

Clumsily undoing his belt, Jared shoved his hand into his pants and took hold of himself, going straight for the tip and rolling it between his fingers. He made his grip as tight as he could stand and pulled his hand hard and slow down his shaft, imagining that it was Jensen’s ass he was pushing into, rather than his own palm. He wondered idly if the boy was a virgin. An image of Jensen on his hands and knees on one of those tiny prison beds sprang to his mind, some anonymous body in a jumpsuit pushing into him. Or maybe Jensen liked to be on top?

Jared smirked to himself as he continued to jerk his cock quickly, the waistband of his boxers and jeans pushed down below his balls now so he could move how he wanted. His hips jumped off the chair as he pistoned himself up into his grip. God, he wished Jensen were on top of him right now. He could picture it so clearly, the boy’s thighs straddling him, hands behind him, holding his ass open for Jared to pound into. What sort of sounds would he make? High, whimpery, needy? Or would he sound more like Jared, groaning low and desperate, lungs beating against his ribs unable to hold onto the breath they so desperately needed.

He spit in his hand, needing something for lube so he could quicken his pace. Already, he could feel his completion beginning to pulse low and heavy in his gut. Jared thought about how Jensen would want to be jerked off, would he like it slow and dirty, fast and slick? Does he like having his balls played with? Jared hoped he would, he would love to suck them into his mouth, bet they would be so pretty. His lips fell open in a groan, and his tongue flicked out of its own accord, like he was going to lick Jensen’s balls, hold them on his tongue.

Jared’s hand flew faster and faster, the spit pooling on his tongue dripping down onto the head of his cock, his mouth braced open like there was a cock down his throat keeping him that way. He shoved three fingers from his free hand into the space, pressing down against the back of his tongue and resting easily at the top of his throat. The finger gag helped muffle his shout when he came, hips bucking up as he leaked out across his fingers, dripping messily onto the leather seat of the chair beneath him.

With a small moan, Jared pulled his hand out of his mouth and wiped the dripping fingers on his shirt. His chest heaved with the effort of his breath while he leaned back in his chair and let himself sink into the feeling of his orgasm for a few moments longer. When he had collected himself a little more, he pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe his hand clean of his release, tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

Standing up to stretch, Jared threw his dirty t-shirt across the room to one of the chairs in the corner. He had a spare shirt and flannel in the wardrobe anyway, which he moved toward now as he buckled his belt back up, he could toss the old shirt in the laundry later.

“Yo, boss!” One harsh knock was all that preceded José barreling into Jared’s office, breathing heavily. “Out–outside,” he was panting, pointing through the window toward the outdoors, and Jared sprinted across the room to look around the curtain. In the distance he could see a lot of dust kicking up, the shadow of a horse, and the figures of three boys, apparently beating the shit out of each other.

“Fuck!” Jared shouted, sprinting past José and down the hall, all but jumping off the porch rather than running down the stairs. He could hear José running right behind him, keeping pace. He’d been right to come get back-up before he tried to break up this fight. When they’re close enough to make out the identities of the fighters, Jared’s heart sinks.

Baxter, Cameron, and Jensen are all over each other. It was two against one, and Jensen was holding his own, but Jared can see the other two have already gotten some shots in. Jensen’s shirt is torn at the shoulder, and he has a cut across his lower lip that has dripped blood down his chin.

Not bothering to stop or think about how it would look, Jared threw his body between the tangle of boys, effectively tackling Jensen to the ground and putting himself in the way of any further attacks from Cameron or Baxter. Somewhere nearby, Jared could hear the horse stomping and whinnying, loud and frightened.

“Look out!” Jensen shouted, terrified. He lurched beneath Jared, forcing his body up and over, rolling them across the ground. Jared felt the hot gravel digging into his back like needles.

“What the fuck?!” Jared hollered, trying to fling Jensen off of him, but the boy was heavier than he looked.

“Stay still!” Jensen seethed, plastering himself firmly over Jared’s body and holding his arms down. Their faces were barely an inch apart. Jared could feel Jensen’s breath rushing over his cheeks, his chest heaving against Jared’s own bare skin. He was suddenly keenly aware that he’d run out to break up the fight without a shirt. Thank fuck he’d just beaten off or he would be in an unavoidably awkward situation right now with Jensen pressed on top of him like this.

“Wha–” Jared began to protest again but the word caught in his throat and his body froze when Jensen forced his head to the side and he saw why the younger man had forced them out of the way. A threatening hiss rattled down Jared’s spine as the diamondback slithered across the yard, steady and slow. It wasn’t trying to run away, it was hunting.

“Stay. Still.” Jensen breathed against Jared’s ear, and this time Jared listened.

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Story Tags: @durinsbride @maliburenee @mrswhozeewhatsis @epiclovestoryj2

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @jackandthesoulmates @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @drakelover78

Click here to find out exactly what an alpha reader is!

Here’s how the program works:

Below, you will find information from the alpha for this month. This information should help you determine if this month’s alpha is someone you could work with.

If you are interested in working with this alpha, you will fill out this application form. (Pond members only. Joining is easy! Check out the Start Here link!)

Only the Pond admins will be able to see your username. The alpha will not know who you are. We hope this brings together people who maybe wouldn’t otherwise find each other, so this application process will be blind.

DEADLINE TO APPLY IS MIDNIGHT, PACIFIC TIME, ON THE LAST DAY OF THE MONTH! MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 5TH!

Based on the application information, the alpha will pick a mentee. Only after the mentee is chosen will the alpha know who they have chosen.

The pair will decide if they want a list of prompts to choose from, or if they want to work on a story idea the mentee has had on the back burner.

Together, they will create beautiful words.

The mentee will post their work on their own blog and submit it to the Pond for posting and to be added to the Program masterpost.

If there are any questions or concerns throughout, @mrswhozeewhatsis will be the point person/mediator!

Story requirements/parameters:

Must be SPN fan fiction.

All ships/pairings/kinks/genres allowed. The only restrictions are those set by the alpha and the mentee.

Use a Keep Reading cut if your story is more than 500 words.

Tag your story with the appropriate trigger warning tags and list them in the author’s note.

Our preferred header format is here.

There is no minimum or maximum word count for this. We don’t expect a novel, but hope for a one-shot.

The story idea MUST be something the mentee has not written or posted, yet. Ideally, to get the most out of this experience, the mentee will only have a couple of sentences about a vague idea, at most. We will provide a list of prompts if you like.

We would prefer that this not be Part 1 of a series. We don’t want to ask the alpha to commit to something larger than a one-shot. If the idea turns into more, and the mentee is willing to continue without the alpha, or the alpha is willing to continue working on the story after the month is done, then that is up to the alpha and the mentee.

​Use the hashtag #alpha reader program when you post your story and tag the @spnfanficpond, your alpha reader, and @mrswhozeewhatsis.

And now, a bit about our alpha for this month:

What is your username?

@deansbxtch

Are you a writer, yourself?

Yes

Are you an experienced beta? (Have you beta read for more than five people, reading more than one story for at least 1 of them?)

Yes

What is your turnaround time for a typical one-shot? (This will not be a typical situation, but this answer will give everyone an idea of how long to give you after they send you something.)

2-3 days

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “English is my second language,” and 5 being, “I have a degree in English or professional editing experience,” how confident are you with your grammar skills?

1

What time zone are you in?

Pacific Time, US

Is there anything you won't read? Ships/pairings, smut, non-con, dub-con, slash, AU, etc.

Heavy smut or angst.

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “Please don’t make me drink the demon blood again,” and 5 being, “Easier than Dean’s pie,” how comfortable would you be checking for story elements such as continuity errors, characterization, and canon compliance?

3

Brainstorming ideas will require you both to be free at the same time. When is the best time for you?

Depends on how much work I have to do but mainly in the late afternoon and evening

How long of a story are you willing to read for this project?

2000 - 4999 words

Do you use Google Docs?

Yes

Please write a couple of sentences to give writers a feel for your style and approach to alpha reading. For example, what is your main focus when it comes to storytelling (i.e. details, feelings, actions)? Are you willing to help with flow or pacing? If a writer is having trouble with a certain sentence, are you willing to offer rewording/restructuring suggestions? Do you feel comfortable offering notes on the story if you feel like something is missing or needs more work?

My main focus is on the little (repeating) details no one else will pay attention to and feelings. I also focus a lot on the plot, making sure it runs smoothly and understandable, avoiding plot holes or jumping around with POV's or places during the setting. I’m comfortable with leaving notes and feedback in the story but I’m also able to do this over message if someone is more comfortable with that.

What do you feel your weaknesses are when writing or alpha reading? For example, do you have trouble with dialogue or action scenes? Is there a particular grammar aspect you have trouble with?

Smut scenes since I haven’t written any of them yet and only beta-read two of them so far.

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

I’m moving in early September (Sep 4th) so I might not answer directly for a day or two because of the traveling and getting used to the new time.

There you go! If you are interesting in working with our alpha this month, go fill out this application here and we will let you know if you are chosen!

Click here to find out exactly what an alpha reader is! Here’s how the program works:

Below, you will find information from the alpha for this month. This information should help you determine if this month’s alpha is someone you could work with.

If you are interested in working with this alpha, you will fill out this application form. (Pond members only. Joining is easy! Check out the Start Here link!)

Only the Pond admins will be able to see your username. The alpha will not know who you are. We hope this brings together people who maybe wouldn’t otherwise find each other, so this application process will be blind.

DEADLINE TO APPLY IS MIDNIGHT, PACIFIC TIME, ON THE LAST DAY OF THE MONTH!

Based on the application information, the alpha will pick a mentee. Only after the mentee is chosen will the alpha know who they have chosen.

The pair will decide if they want a list of prompts to choose from, or if they want to work on a story idea the mentee has had on the back burner.

Together, they will create beautiful words.

The mentee will post their work on their own blog and submit it to the Pond for posting and to be added to the Program masterpost.

If there are any questions or concerns throughout, @mrswhozeewhatsis will be the point person/mediator!

Story requirements/parameters:

Must be SPN fan fiction.

All ships/pairings/kinks/genres allowed. The only restrictions are those set by the alpha and the mentee.

Use a Keep Reading cut if your story is more than 500 words.

Tag your story with the appropriate trigger warning tags and list them in the author’s note.

Our preferred header format is here.

There is no minimum or maximum word count for this. We don’t expect a novel, but hope for a one-shot.

The story idea MUST be something the mentee has not written or posted, yet. Ideally, to get the most out of this experience, the mentee will only have a couple of sentences about a vague idea, at most. We will provide a list of prompts if you like.

We would prefer that this not be Part 1 of a series. We don’t want to ask the alpha to commit to something larger than a one-shot. If the idea turns into more, and the mentee is willing to continue without the alpha, or the alpha is willing to continue working on the story after the month is done, then that is up to the alpha and the mentee.

​Use the hashtag #alpha reader program when you post your story and tag the @spnfanficpond, your alpha reader, and @mrswhozeewhatsis.

And now, a bit about our alpha for this month:

What is your username?

@negans-lucille-tblr

Are you a writer, yourself?

Yes

Are you an experienced beta? (Have you beta read for more than five people, reading more than one story for at least 1 of them?)

Yes

What is your turnaround time for a typical one-shot? (This will not be a typical situation, but this answer will give everyone an idea of how long to give you after they send you something.)

Other: I aim for between 1-2 days, but I give an accurate time frame at the time as it depends greatly on my shift pattern/home life.

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “English is my second language,” and 5 being, “I have a degree in English or professional editing experience,” how confident are you with your grammar skills?

4

What time zone are you in?

London, BST

Is there anything you won't read? Ships/pairings, smut, non-con, dub-con, slash, AU, etc.

The only slash pairing I read is Wincest/J2, I won't read underage, toilet stuff, and prefer to avoid pregnancy and children in general.

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being “Please don’t make me drink the demon blood again,” and 5 being, “Easier than Dean’s pie,” how comfortable would you be checking for story elements such as continuity errors, characterization, and canon compliance?

4

Brainstorming ideas will require you both to be free at the same time. When is the best time for you?

I'm usually able to reply to messages throughout the day, but for my undivided attention, that's better after 8pm.

How long of a story are you willing to read for this project?

2000 - 4999 words

Do you use Google Docs?

Yes

Please write a couple of sentences to give writers a feel for your style and approach to alpha reading. For example, what is your main focus when it comes to storytelling (i.e. details, feelings, actions)? Are you willing to help with flow or pacing? If a writer is having trouble with a certain sentence, are you willing to offer rewording/restructuring suggestions? Do you feel comfortable offering notes on the story if you feel like something is missing or needs more work?

I love finer details in a storyline - hidden agendas, plot twists, deeper meanings, character motives etc etc I would describe myself as a brutal alpha. If something doesn't flow or work or it seems unrealistic, I will tell you (politely). But, I also realise this is ultimately YOUR story, so I am happy to be as hands on or off as the writer needs me to be. As a writer myself, I know we thrive on feedback, so I try to give this as I go too, and I like to explain my reasonings for suggesting changes to help the writer understand better.

What do you feel your weaknesses are when writing or alpha reading? For example, do you have trouble with dialogue or action scenes? Is there a particular grammar aspect you have trouble with?

Canon is a big weakness for me, having only seen the show through once with a bad memory. Anything to do with lore, hunt elements etc I struggle with as a writer and Alpha. I feel I do have a good understanding of the characters though, so I thrive in AU. I also struggle to read large chunks of text because of my disassociation. I'd rather read smaller chunks of, say, 500-1K words as we work our way through the fic, rather than be given 5K to edit in one go.

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

My strengths are definitely smut and dark elements, so any one looking to work on those areas, I feel I'm going to be better suited to. I'm so excited to work with someone and make something amazing 🥰

There you go! If you are interesting in working with our alpha this month, go fill out this application here and we will let you know if you are chosen!