kellifer | "And Paid For"

Title: And Paid For (Part Two of Two)
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: RPS
Category: Jensen/Jeff, Milo/Adrian, Milo/Jared (implied)
By:

kellifer_fic
Words: 1,694
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Notes: Part of

poisontaster's A Kept Boy universe. Written with permission.

Part One | Part Two

Jeff doesn’t see Jensen when he emerges from the bathroom clad in only suit pants and rubbing a towel over his head, so when Jensen clears his throat gently Jeff startles, one hand going to his chest. “Jesus, Jensen, make some noise or something would you?” Jeff says, sounding a little breathless.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen apologizes quickly, making to go to his knees but Jeff is there before he can complete the maneuver, catching him under the armpits and hauling him back upright.

“No, it’s okay, really. It’s just, the way Sam reckons, I’m one snack cake away from a heart attack. No need to help it along,” Jeff says, making sure Jensen is going to stay on his feet before stepping away again. He goes back to rubbing over his head, then raises the towel long enough to look over at Jensen. “Was there something you needed?”

“I just wanted to…” Jensen makes a helpless gesture with his hands because he’s not entirely sure how to raise this particular subject. Jeff is always plain spoken and Jensen is learning that it’s the easiest way to deal with him. “I just wanted to ask if you would let me prepare Jared.”

“Prepare him for what?” Jeff asks. Everything about his body language says he’s unconcerned. He’s moved over to the small desk at the side of the room and is paging through a folder of papers Kane left behind. He has one final dinner with Pasdar before the whole retinue leaves his house and Jensen gets the very real impression that Jeff is just plain relieved.

“For when he’s sold.”

Jeff stills and turns slowly, hands now gripping the end of the towel that’s slung around his neck. “Excuse me?”

“From what I can see he’s actually cleverer than he looks so he’ll take to it quickly but I really need to start now because he’s completely untrained and I just don’t want to-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Jeff says, holding up his hands, palms out. “I’m getting the feeling you’re halfway through a game I haven’t even started playing yet. What’s this all about?”

“Master Pasdar’s… companion. He told me.”

“Told you what?” Jeff presses and now Jensen can hear exasperation in his tone.

“That you were selling Jared,” Jensen says and then blinks because Jeff pales and his mouth drops open like the hinge is broken.

“I’m what?”

“He said negotiations had started and I just wanted time to prepare him. I’m hoping you’re going for a long cooling off period because Jared is definitely rough around the edges, well, rough clear on through his middle too and-,”

“Jensen, stop,” Jeff says and years of training make Jensen’s mouth shut so fast he nearly bites clean through the tip of his tongue. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not selling Jared!”

“But he-”

“Jensen,” Jeff says gently, coming forward again until he can drop hands on Jensen’s shoulders. He kneads his thumbs into the wings of Jensen’s collarbones briefly and then gives him a little shake, a gentle back forth like maybe he can rattle something loose that’s stuck wrong. “I’m not selling anyone to Adrian. I know him, I wouldn’t ever do that. I don’t think I’d do that to my worst enemy.”

“His companion-” Jensen tries again but Jeff skates one of his hands up Jensen’s neck and then his fingers are over Jensen’s mouth, lips pinched between his forefinger and thumb for a second before he lets go.

“Milo? I don’t know what his deal is but I’m pretty sure he’s a few cards short of a full deck. Gives me the heebies.”

“He wants Jared.”

“Strange as it is to fathom, plenty of people want Jared,” Jeff says, chuckling lightly. “I’ve had offers before. Attractive offers, especially when he was younger. I always thought he was a goofy lookin’ kid but there’s no accounting for taste I guess. I haven’t sold him off before and I’m not likely to now.”

“But it’s different,” Jensen insists because he can’t really believe that Jeff is this clueless or this dismissive of the notion. Maybe, just maybe Milo had been messing with him but he’d gotten the feeling that he’d meant what he’d said.

That Milo meant to have Jared.

“How so?” Jeff asks, moving back to his bed to retrieve the button-down that’s been laid out on top of the covers. Jensen himself had picked it out a few hours before, knowing how important the final dinner was, how crucial. Jeff infuriatingly casts aside the leather shoes Jensen had buffed to a high shine however and steps into a ratty pair of sandals that Jensen had thought he’d gotten rid of.

Jensen isn’t sure how to answer Jeff’s question without revealing that he knows just what kind of relationship Jeff has with Pasdar.

“Look,” Jeff says, stepping back into Jensen’s space, again resting his hands on Jensen’s shoulders. “It’s sweet that you’re worried but sooner or later you’re just going to have to trust that I don’t just sell off anyone on a whim. Jared’s… well, he’s-”

“Property,” Jensen interrupts and then ducks his head. He doesn’t know why he did it, mainly he didn’t want Jeff to actually say what he thinks Jeff was going to because it’s wrong in so many ways and gives Jared and by extension Jensen a false sense of security.

He doesn’t want to believe he’s safe because the moment he starts to, he won’t be.

He’s not family.

000

“Who’s that?”

It’d been two weeks since the Pasdar party had left and Jensen was starting to think that just maybe Jeff had been right and he’d been able to gently knock back the offer to buy Jared. The man standing in their foyer, currently inspecting his nails and looking impeccable and almost shark-like in a neat gray suit, makes Jensen realize that it was particularly naïve for him to believe that.

“Neil Patrick Harris,” Jensen answers, tilting his head enough to see Chad by his shoulder. They’re concealed around a corner and watch as Sam emerges with a pot of coffee and a tray of biscuits and set them on the table in the waiting area. Harris merely raises an eyebrow at her but makes no move towards the couch she waves a hand at or the proffered refreshments.

“Who?”

“He’s a Buyer,” Jensen says, shuffling backwards a little and therefore herding Chad further into concealment because the younger man had been leaning around him like a keen puppy.

“Of what?”

“People,” Jensen clarifies.

Jensen watches Harris brush an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder and adjust his grip on his briefcase as Sam retreats. Harris’ presence is a reprimand, an announcement that Pasdar is displeased with negotiations and that they’re willing to take it to the next level.

Harris specializes is hostile purchases.

“Jeff buying someone new?”

“No,” Jensen sighs and then turns to Chad. “Look, do me a favor and keep Jared away from the house for a little while?”

“Why?” Chad asks, but his eyes narrow and Jensen thinks that maybe there’s someone else that he’s misjudged in this household, that Chad has a kind of low-cunning that makes his eyes immediately track back to Harris and concern flood his features.

“For once in your entire existence would you please just do something someone asks you to?” Jensen hisses, exasperated. Chad for another few seconds looks like he’s going to argue but then his lips thin down and he nods.

000

Jensen finds Jeff in his rooms later, pacing the floor like a caged tiger. He’d sought Jeff out because Sam had told him that Jeff had been unceremoniously ejected from the meeting with Harris after he’d offered to clean his clock or ring his bell or whatever other socially backward metaphor it was he’d landed on to basically kick Harris’ ass.

The only reason it wasn’t a social faux pas of the worst kind for Harris to deal solely with Kane was because Harris was a slave himself, purchased by a corporation instead of a person and with only one task. He was a slave others envied and feared in equal measure.

“Goddamn cheek of that asshole,” Jeff is muttering as Jensen enters, being careful to actually make noise this time and his presence known. “Should’ve kicked Adrian out on his narrow, pampered ass the minute he rolled it up to my gates.”

“You have to sell him.”

“Like hell you say!” Jeff yells, turning and Jensen flinches because this is the first time he’s actually seen Jeff angry. Frustrated, worried, about to keel over from exhaustion yes, but never angry. At Jensen’s flinch, and he would kick his own ass if he could because he’d certainly been trained out of that long ago, Jeff slumps. “We’ll get through this. Might not come out smelling like a rose on the other side and the road might be bumpier for a while but we’ll get through this.”

“You have to,” Jensen repeats, gentler now like he’s treating with a wounded animal. “Just let me prepare him. He’s been luckier than most to have at least this much time. He’s strong, he can handle it.”

“Jensen,” Jeff sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to get it through to you that it’s not an option for me. It’s not even a question. I know you’ve been handed around like a party favor but I won’t… I can’t do that. There’s no other boot to drop here. That’s what you’re waiting for, isn’t it?”

Jensen feels his stomach plummet because Jeff is right. It would’ve been almost a relief to find out that Jeff was like every other Master he’d ever had. That if he could sell Jared, he could sell anyone.

“He’s safe, you’re safe. Not just for now either, but for as long as I’m around. We’re going to have problems with Adrian, it’s true, but I can take a few lumps. I have friends he doesn’t know about and depths he couldn’t dream of. He can throw all the Buyers and lawyers and threats he likes at me.”

000

Jensen wants to tell Jared how close he’d come, how he might not even be safe yet, but he just can’t do it.

He watches Jared from the house, flat on his back in the sunshine with Bisou flopped over his stomach and drooling all over the right leg of his jeans. Jensen walks down to where Jared’s lying and looks down at him.

“What does that look like to you?” Jared asks, pointing up into the sky. Jensen cranes his head back and then looks down at Jared again. He might’ve been giving the kid too much credit.

“Um, clouds?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Geez you’re hopeless,” Jared sighs, and reaches up before Jensen can react. He manages to get Jensen flat on his back before he knows what’s happening. “I think it looks like a squirrel holding a banana.”

“Why would a squirrel be holding a banana?” Jensen asks, grinning despite himself.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s low on potassium. C’mon, man. You can’t tell me you never played this game.”

Jensen thinks about what his life was like, what his childhood was like, and what it must have been like for Jared. “Looks more like car to me,” Jensen says.

“Oh yeah, what kind?” Jared asks, tilting his head sideways and squinting and Jensen knows even if it’s dangerous, even if it would prepare him, would in some ways protect him, he’s not going to tell Jared a thing.

“Nah, you’re right. Squirrel with a banana for sure,” he says instead and Jared’s laugh is enough.