#cowboy!jared

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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