Chapter Text
"And just what was wrong with that one?" Jim Beaver stabbed at a finger at the closing door to make his point. "He seemed kinda nice." It was the end to a very long day and Jim was tired and frustrated.
"He looked at me funny," the voice behind him said. The tone was sulky but Jim could hear an element of defeat and hurt and it made his heart ache for his friend. But it didn't stop him from being angry and frustrated. Jim whirled on his friend glaring at him. "He looked at you funny? Is that it?" he said angrily. Jim scrubbed a hand over his face trying to calm himself down. He stared at the younger man sitting behind the desk idly scribbling in his notebook avoiding looking at him directly. Jensen Ackles, son of his best friend, was being awkward, hard-headed and stubborn. He was definitely his father's son Jim thought with a sigh. But Jim knew why Jensen was being stubborn, even understood why but it didn't make things easier or lessen his frustration.
Jim slumped down in the chair by the desk and stared at his friend moodily. Jensen ignored him still scribbling in his notebook. Jim sighed. Jensen Ackles was going to be the death of him. Jim let his mind wander as he fought the urge to strangle his friend for being so stubborn. His eyes roamed around the room smiling as they settled on the black letters etched into the glass of the window behind Jensen - AB Detective Agency. His best friend, and Jensen's father, had started the detective business the year after Jensen had been born. Back then it had just been him and Philip Ackles taking on the cases others wouldn't touch, the darker and more dangerous cases. They had built up a reputation of sorts and had made a decent living for themselves. But then Philip had gotten sick and Jensen had taken six months leave from his own career in the police department to help Jim with the Agency. It had been a temporary measure but Philip had deteriorated suddenly and died leaving all his assets to his only son. Instead of selling the Agency, as Jim had expected and going back to his own career, Jensen had resigned from the police force turning his efforts to making the Agency the best in a hundred mile radius and he had succeeded. Three years later the business was extremely successful, had a reputation second to none and it was all down to Jensen's stubborn and focussed determination. Including Jim, who Jensen had immediately made an equal partner something Philip Ackles had never considered in over twenty years, the Agency employed eight detectives, all from different walks of life, and all contributing their own skills and unique talents to the renown and success of the business.
Jim shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced up at Jensen again who was now staring at his computer screen, no doubt scanning his eyes over the accounts or something similar. The last eighteen months had been tough for the younger man but his problems hadn't deterred Jensen from concentrating all his efforts on the business. If anything he had become even more focussed on the Agency and building its reputation, becoming a workaholic, and ignoring Jim's pleas to relax and take it easy. Jim knew why, even understood why - Jensen needed to prove to others and himself that he was capable. It frustrated the hell out of Jim and he was concerned that Jensen was working himself towards an early grave.
Jim sighed again trying not to be irritated with his friend and his behaviour. But it didn't change the fact that Jensen needed an assistant. Jensen knew it. Jim knew it. But so far their search had been fruitless and it hadn't helped that Jensen had moodily glared and scowled at every prospective employee. He had hardly said a word leaving all the talking to Jim. They had spent the day interviewing, ten people in total, and Jensen hadn't liked any of them for some reason or another and it was beginning to get Jim down. He and his new wife, Samantha, were leaving on a month long trip and he needed to know that Jensen would be looked after when he was gone. Jim couldn't help worrying about Jensen. He knew that the younger man could look after himself but some of his needs were even beyond his pig-headed stubbornness. Frustration and worry battled each other in his head making Jim feel slightly dizzy. Jim blew out a long calming breath. "Jensen," he said patiently. "We have to find you an assistant. I'm gonna be gone in two days."
"I know that," Jensen looked up irritated. "I didn't like any of them. OK?" he snapped.
"If we can't find an assistant," Jim said calmly. He left the silent threat in the air.
"I can look after myself," Jensen interrupted with a pout. He knew he was being unreasonable but he couldn't help himself. He felt trapped. On one hand he wanted Jim to go on his trip and wasn't so selfish to deny his friend his vacation but on the other hand Jensen didn't want a stranger helping him. It made his blood run cold and he shivered slightly. He only really trusted Jim and he didn't want or need anyone else. "You're only gonna be away for a month."
"I know," Jim said patiently. "But I'll feel better if you have the help. Humour an old man."
Jensen glared at Jim. "I don't need a baby sitter," he persisted scowling. "And I'll manage." In truth, Jensen wasn't so sure that he could cope entirely on his own but he was determined. Hard-headedness ran in his family and he was determined to show everyone that he wasn't as helpless as they all seemed to think. He scowled at Jim again.
"I know you don't need a baby sitter," Jim responded patiently ignoring the look on Jensen's face. "But you do need an assistant. Someone to help you out. Don't be so damn stubborn and pick one," he poked a finger at the pile of applications.
"I told you," Jensen's green eyes flashed with anger. "I didn't like any of them. They all sucked," he pushed the pile of applications to one side glaring at them as if pulling a face at them would make them disappear. He had seen it, seen it etched on every face that they had interviewed - pity. Jensen shouldn't have been surprised - he had become used to seeing the pity and sympathy on strangers' faces. They judged him before he had even opened his mouth and it still hurt, still made him feel useless and broken. He hated it but it made him even more determined to prove that he was capable and self-sufficient and he had the bruises to prove it. Jensen grimaced at the thought. He scowled at the pile of applications again. He had wanted to scream at them all but had resisted the urge settling for glaring and remaining silent instead. Jensen was tired and he scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked back at Jim.
Jim leaned over the desk pushing the applications back in front of Jensen. "Choose a damn assistant," he said. "Or I'll choose one for you," he threatened. "And I know some great female mud wrestlers."
Jensen ignored the threat of the mud wrestlers. "Don't treat me like a child," he snapped. "I hate it when you do that. I'm not a child."
"Well you're kinda acting like one now," Jim accused. He could feel his temper boiling. "I gave you the choice. Either you pick one... or I will." He knew, deep down, that Jensen wasn't being unreasonable on purpose, knew that the younger man had trust issues and if he was really honest with himself none of the candidates really impressed him and probably wouldn't have lasted a day with Jensen and his acidic tongue.
Jensen's snarky reply was interrupted by a knock on the office door. "What?" Jim yelled as he turned towards the door. "This isn't over," he threw over his shoulder at Jensen.
"Sorry," the young man at the door apologised. "Your secretary Mrs Devine said it was OK to come in.... I'll come back later," he started to back out of the door.
"No. No," Jim smiled at the young man who was nervously shifting from foot to foot in the doorway. "Loretta's just gonna love you if you keep using those nice manners and calling her Mrs Devine," he waved the young man into the room. Jim narrowed his eyes as he studied the young man carefully. He was freakishly tall and rangy looking and it appeared that a decent meal wouldn't go amiss. Dressed casually in worn jeans, a t-shirt and sweater with a light summer jacket, Jim had the feeling that the young man was carrying his whole life in the two bags he had with him, one slung over his shoulder, the other clutched in one hand. He had kind pale coloured eyes and an untidy mop of brown hair which framed his angular face. "Don't mind me. Mr. Ackles and I were just having a difference of opinion. He could use some of your manners," he said ignoring the death glare Jensen shot his way. "What can we do for you?" Jim asked.
"Mrs Devine said you were looking for help," the young man explained biting at his lip nervously. "And..... well I need a job." His expression was earnest and for some reason Jim wouldn't be able to explain to anyone he immediately warmed to the younger man.
"What's your name son?" Jim asked kindly.
"Jared," the young man smiled boyishly as he pushed his hair back from his eyes. "Jared Padalecki," he stuck his hand out towards Jim with another smile.
"Jim Beaver," Jim said with a smile shaking the younger man's hand. "And my scowling friend is Jensen Ackles," he nodded towards Jensen. He smirked at the thunderous look on his friend's face.
"Good to meet you both," Jared smiled again. He decided against offering his hand to the younger man behind the desk and wondered idly if the scowl was a permanent feature because Jared had a feeling that if he smiled it would be beautiful. He shook off the thought turning his attention back to Jim.
"Well Jared," Jim said waving Jared towards the chair by the desk. "This is your lucky day."
"It is?" Jared said puzzled as he flopped down into the offered chair.
"Sure is," Jim nodded. "Because you're hired."
"What?" two voices chimed.
Jim chuckled looking from one man to the other. He really didn't know what had made him say the words but the look on both young men's faces was priceless, made it worth it, and Jim really wished he had a camera with him. "You're hired," he repeated. "Jensen meet your assistant Jared," he chuckled at the horrified look on Jensen's face. "Jared meet your boss Jensen."
"Really?" Jared said and Jim didn't miss the hopeful expression on the younger man's face. "Don't you wanna read my resume... or something," he offered rummaging in one of his bags.
Jim put up his hands. "No need," he said. "You're hired and yeah I mean it. Jim Beaver don't go back on his word," Jim nodded ignoring the glares that Jensen was aiming at him.
Jared jumped to his feet and shook Jim's hand again. "Wow... thanks... just thanks."
Jensen stared at Jim for a moment horrified at what his friend had done. He finally found his voice. "Don't you think I should have a say in this?" he interrupted even though he knew it was a lost battle. Jim was a man of his word and wouldn't go back on it for anything, not even to spare Jensen's feelings. Jensen sighed but decided to put up a fight anyway, his stubborn streak getting the better of him.
"No," Jim turned to his friend, his face determined and his voice firm. "You don't. I gave you the choice," he waved a hand at the abandoned applications. "You didn't make one.... so I have."
Jensen glared at Jim. The older man meant the world to him, had known him all his life. They weren't just business partners, they were friends. Jensen owed him so much especially in the last eighteen months and despite his horror at the situation, Jensen didn't want to hurt Jim's feelings. They stared at each other for a moment each daring the other to say something. Finally Jensen sighed in defeat dropping his head slightly. They had just hired Jared Padalecki as his assistant.
"You win old man," Jensen mumbled reluctantly. "This time," he made it sound like a challenge and smirked at Jim.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Less of the old man," he chided but couldn't keep the triumph out of his tone. He winked at Jared before turning back to Jensen. "And stop your damn pouting... it don't suit you."
Jared had watched the exchange between the two men in silence wondering what he had let himself in for. His grandfather had died two months previously, his best friend in the whole world, and ever since Jared had been aimlessly wandering the country picking up jobs here and there to keep him going. He was searching but Jared admitted to himself that he didn't really know what he was searching for. He just got on a bus and travelled to the next stop or the next. His life, without his grandfather, had no purpose and Jared was lonely, the ache of being all alone in the world filling him, surrounding him like a dark cloak. Jared had been on his way to San Francisco, just another bus stop, but something he couldn't explain had made him get off the bus that morning. Some research on his laptop, over a lukewarm coffee in a small diner, had given him several job options and he had wandered along the main street finding himself at the door of the detective agency. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, that may be he could do some background or research work for the detectives, Jared had enquired about jobs and had been directed by the secretary towards an office where raised voices were shouting at each other. It then struck him - he hadn't asked what he had been hired to do. "Excuse me," Jared interrupted shyly. "Ummm... I was wondering.. well you know.... just what have I been hired to do?" he blushed at the admission.
"That would be looking after my useless ass," Jensen moved around to the side of the desk.
"Jensen," Jim snapped in warning. "Can the attitude."
The snapped warning distracted both men away from Jared just giving him enough time to compose himself and wipe the surprised look off his face. He had expected to come face to face with the younger man - instead Jared found himself looking down at Jensen as he rolled forwards in his wheelchair. Jensen gave Jared a hard appraising stare as if expecting some kind of negative reaction, as if he was used to being treated as flawed because of the wheelchair. Jared had a feeling that the next words he said would be important, that he wouldn't be forgiven for sympathy or pity. He ignored the wheelchair and looked directly at Jensen holding his irritated stare. Shaking off the thought that Jensen had the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen, Jared took a calming breath. "So what kind of duties does looking after your useless ass entail?" he asked simply, resisting the urge to smirk. Jared knew immediately that he had said the right thing nearly missing the flash of pleased surprise on the other man's face - but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Jim chuckled and Jensen shot him a warning glance. "I'm sure Jim here will tell you all about it," Jensen said waving a hand at the older man.
"Don't worry Jared," Jim gave a small laugh. "He comes with a manual."
Jensen glared at Jim again. Jim ignored the look continuing to chuckle as he gathered up a pile of papers stuffing them untidily into his brief case. Jensen rolled his eyes as he turned back to Jared. He quirked an eyebrow managing to conceal the surprise he felt at the lack of pity he read in the younger man's eyes and body language. Instead Jensen saw veiled amusement and a steely determination and stubbornness that probably matched his own. Jensen was so used to people that didn't know him treating him like he was somehow defective, had gotten used to them judging him by his wheelchair and his useless legs that it was a refreshing change to be treated normally by a stranger. But even so he resisted the temptation to smile at Jared. He grabbed his own over-stuffed brief case and laid it across his lap. Putting his hands on the top of each wheel Jensen pushed himself towards the doorway narrowly missing Jared's toes. Instinctively Jared jumped back. "Good reflexes," Jensen smirked as he rolled out of the door. "You coming or what?" he shot over his shoulder.
"I think he likes you," Jim whispered as the door closed behind Jensen. He stuffed his brief case under one arm.
"Yeah right," Jared retorted but gave the older man a small smile. He hoped that he hadn't made a mistake in accepting the job but even though Jensen had yet to smile at him, Jared found himself, for some reason, liking his new employer. "How can you tell?"
Jim snorted. "He didn't run over your toes," he said with a knowing smile.