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Jared fills Max’s bowl with kibble. Max dances around Jared’s legs, and Jared has to hold him off with one hand in order to get the bowl onto its mat. Jared steps back and checks the time on his phone. Jensen should have been home by now. It’s already 5:30. Jensen usually gets through the rush hour traffic in Hummelstown by 5:20 at the latest.
Jared’s phone chimes in his hand, startling him badly enough to nearly drop it. It’s a text from Jensen: Sorry, it’s gonna be a while till I get home. Eat whatever you want, I’m gonna grab McDonald’s from the truck stop.
Jared frowns. Is he being vague for a reason, or can he simply not spare the time to explain? Jared types a reply. Everything ok?
Not really, no. Sorry, can’t talk now. The response comes more quickly than Jared was expecting. Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t sound good.
Jared opens the pantry door and glances over the contents. His eyes land on a box of garlic and olive oil vermicelli. It’ll do. He sets the box on the counter and opens the freezer door. Great, it’s still here. He retrieves the box of frozen broccoli-and-cheese-stuffed chicken breasts and takes one out. He finds the oven temperature on the back of the box and sets the oven for 375. The chicken bakes for 15 to 18 minutes, but the pasta only needs 8 to 10 after the water boils. So he’s got some time to wait.
Max finishes his kibble and ambles over to the back door. Jared grabs his leash and takes him out into the backyard. It’s been so hot that he and Jensen have had to walk Max practically at dawn to avoid the superheated concrete and asphalt of midday.
Jared lets Max sniff around behind their unit for a little bit, catching up on all the “news” from the other dogs in the complex as well as the squirrels and chipmunks. Then Jared steers Max back toward their own porch. He lets Max in and gives him a Milk-Bone, which Max happily devours while Jared’s hanging up his leash. The oven beeps, signaling that it’s fully preheated. Jared sets the frozen chicken breast on a stoneware baker and puts it in the oven. He sets the microwave timer for 16 minutes. Then he sets a timer on his phone for 5 minutes so he’ll actually get up and get the noodles going.
20 minutes later, Jared sits down to a decent-enough dinner considering the situation. He could turn the TV on for company, but Jensen hates when he does that so he’s gotten out of the habit. Jensen didn’t even like having the news on during meals. Now it felt unnatural to even consider it. Jared turns on the newest Behind the Bastards podcast instead.
Jared’s just finishing up the dishes when he hears the door open and Max’s nails clinking against the laminate. “Hey, buddy,” Jensen says, barely audible to Jared over the running water.
Jared turns off the sink and wipes his hands on a dishtowel. “Hey, I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time,” Jensen calls back hoarsely. He must have had to talk a lot, which was really tiring for him.
Jared walks into the living room just in time to see Jensen collapse on the couch. His messenger bag and lunch cooler are sitting on the floor next to the front door. Max sniffs Jensen’s lunch bag with rapt attention, so Jared rescues it and sets it on the dining table, well out of Max’s reach. He returns to the living room and sits down next to Jensen. “That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea.” Jensen drops his head back against the couch cushion. “I had to make a mandatory report.”
Jared’s eyes bug out in shock. “No fucking way. What the hell happened?”
“Long story short… an autistic girl had a meltdown during therapy… and her dad put hands on her… in multiple unacceptable ways.” He raises his head and meets Jared’s gaze. He looks exhausted.
“Jesus Christ. Did you see it?”
“No, Kat and Kurt went upstairs…and they witnessed one act. A bystander…who was up there with his young daughter…witnessed a different act. He came and got me…while Kat and Kurt were upstairs…asking them to take it outside.”
“Holy hell. Did you call the cops on them or just report to DCFS and ChildLine?”
“It was quiet by the time…I got involved. So I talked to my staff…and the therapist... called ChildLine and DCFS…and wrote up an incident report. Kat and Kurt had both left…so I have to get their reports tomorrow.”
“So it happened right at the end of the day?”
“Yeah, around 4:45. That’s why I was so late.”
“That’s not a problem,” Jared replies, his voice gentle. He places one supportive hand on Jensen’s knee and squeezes. “I can’t believe your first mandatory report was at Middletown and not Kline.”
Jensen manages a small smile at that. “I had that thought too.”
Jared stands up and extends a hand to Jensen. “Come on upstairs. You look beat.”
“That’s an understatement.” Jensen accepts the help. Jared ends up having to do most of the work to lift Jensen to his feet, but he doesn’t mind at all. He wraps one arm around Jensen’s shoulders to support him and they slowly make their way to the bedroom.
Jared eases Jensen down onto the edge of their bed. “I got this,” he murmurs with a small smile. He takes Jensen’s shoes and socks off first and sets them near the hamper. Then he unbuttons Jensen’s short-sleeved dress shirt and removes that as well. He drops it on the bed next to Jensen and goes to work on his belt and slacks. One corner of Jensen’s mouth quirks up as Jared strips off Jensen’s gray trousers, leaving him in only his white tank top and royal blue boxer-briefs. Jared puts Jensen’s work clothes in the hamper. When he turns around, he sees that Jensen’s taken off his undershirt. Jensen weakly tosses it at the foot of the bed. Jared deposits it in the hamper and gets Jensen settled on his side of the bed. He turns down the summer-weight bamboo blanket and flat sheet.
“You don’t have to stay,” says Jensen.
Jared nods. “I know. Sit tight; I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”
Jared goes to the bathroom and fills a tumbler with tap water. Luckily, their tap water is just as drinkable as the filtered water from the refrigerator. He walks back into the bedroom to see Jensen yawn so widely that most of his face is hidden from Jared’s view.
Jared walks to Jensen’s side of the bed and hands him the tumbler. “Thank you,” he says, and drinks from it with obvious gratitude.
“You can go to sleep,” says Jared. “I don’t mind. I’ll take Max out once the sun sets.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Jensen’s eyelids droop with exhaustion. He won’t be awake for much longer.
Jared shakes his head, smiling softly. “Not at all.” He perches on the edge of the bed and strokes Jensen’s hair, which is now long enough that one rogue lock always falls over his temple. Jared brushes that lock back and presses a soft kiss to Jensen’s temple. “Rest. I’m here.”
Jensen smiles sleepily and lets his eyes fall closed. It isn’t long before his breathing grows deep and even with sleep. The lines of stress that were etched around his eyes and mouth when he came home finally disappear. Jared waits a few beats longer and then rises carefully from the bed. Jensen doesn’t stir. Jared quietly pads out of the room and heads down the stairs. It’ll be another hour until the sun goes down enough to take Max out for a short walk.
Max is lying on his back with a stuffie squirrel in his mouth. Jared grins and takes his phone out of his pocket to snap a quick photo for his Instagram, which is 95% dog content at this point. The other 5% is library content. It works for him. Max has a ton of fans among the #dogsofinstagram. Jared has tried to get Jensen on board with Instagram, but Jensen doesn’t really understand the appeal. He has a Goodreads account and a Beanstack account, which he says is all he needs.
Jensen’s been listening to audiobooks in the car and at meals to try to get books finished for the Summer Reading Program. He says he’d look bad if he was the only staff member who didn’t participate, even though he’s incredibly busy trying to keep MDT running. Jensen has a lot more responsibility than he did at Kline. Things like grant applications, fundraising, and maintenance are now entirely under Jensen’s purview. It’s a big change, and Jared knows that’s part of why Jensen’s always so tired—it’s not just the stress, it’s also the continuing lack of proper oxygen intake. Jared worries that Jensen’s going to land himself in the hospital again if he doesn’t start taking it easier.
But right now, things are basically okay, Jared reminds himself. And he’ll do everything he can to keep it that way.