lotrspnfangirl | Underneath the Oak Tree -- Chapter One (Reply)

June 14th, 1948
Austin, Texas

“But Dad, I don’t want to!” Jensen knew he was pushing his luck and stopped himself from stomping his foot as he met his father’s steely gaze. Alan Ackles was a patient man, to a point, and Jensen was on the verge of crossing that invisible line.

“Jensen. We are not having this discussion again. You know why you and Joshua are needed and it is not up for discussion. Now, make sure you have everything you need packed, because it’s going to be the last time you’re going to see your room for the next three months!” Jensen bit his tongue, staring hard at his father. It was Josh who broke the tension, reaching forward to twist Jensen’s ear painfully.

“Quit acting like a baby,” he teased, jumping out of the way as Jensen jumped to action.

“Enough!” Their father’s sharp voice cut through Josh’s laughter and made Jensen skid to a stop, spinning back around to look at this father. “Go and pack.”

“Yes, Sir.” Josh and Jensen both replied, leaving the room quickly to clamber up the steps into their shared bedroom, leaving their father with his head in his hands.

“Nice going,” Josh whispered when they were safely behind closed doors. “You made Dad angry.” Jensen didn’t know what to say to that.

His Dad was angry a lot lately; angry at his mother for fighting to keep her job, angry at Josh for being so noisy, and angry at Jensen for, well, Jensen didn’t really know why. Jensen had learned quickly not to ask why, and to never, ever mention the war.

Daddy was home, Daddy was safe, they were a family and that was all that mattered.

Except Jensen and Josh were being forced to leave their home for the entire summer. He didn’t want to leave Texas, he wanted to stay so he could play baseball with his friends and go swimming and fishing in the creek. He tried to pretend that the thought of escaping the house and being free from his parents wasn’t exactly such a terrible thought.

“Here.” Josh thrust a duffel bag into his arms and Jensen accepted it, grateful for the small distraction. He untied the drawstring, pulling it wide open before shoving in his entire sock and underwear drawer, then adding in his jeans and shirts on top.

“Do you think we’re going to have to sleep in a barn?” he asked, tying up the bag again and plopping down on top of the bed to watch as Josh folded each article of clothing before placing it carefully in his own bag.

“Seriously, Jense?” Josh gave him a strange look before starting to laugh. “You don’t remember the last time we went to see the farm?” Jensen screwed up his face, trying to think. “No, Jense. Grandma isn’t going to make us sleep in the barn. They have a big old farmhouse, with plenty of rooms. I bet you you’ll even get your own bed.”

Jensen’s eyes widened at that. He could spend an entire summer sleeping without Josh kicking him in the middle of the night. This summer was starting to look up already.

“Come on, boys! Get down here.” Jensen jumped as his father’s voice bellowed up the stairs.

“Ready?” Josh said, dragging his bag up over his shoulder and starting towards the door. Jensen sighed and took one last look around the room before following his brother out and down the stairs to where their father and their rusted old pick-up truck were waiting.

Jensen was suddenly nervous. He tossed a glance over at Josh who had curled himself up against the window, a book splayed out across his lap, and getting lost in the words. Jensen glanced at his bag for a moment, considering pulling out his own novel, but knowing that it would only cause him to get nauseous. He didn’t need Josh making fun of him for that…

He shifted in the seat, peering out the window and let his father’s last words roll through his mind.

“You boys sure are lucky.” Alan reached up to run a hand through Jensen’s hair, a small but sad smile on his face. “This is one of the first diesel fueled trains around here, no more coal and smoke making you smell like you’re wearing your best smoking jacket instead of traveling clothes.”

They were standing in the MoPac station in Austin, both Josh and Jensen still clinging onto their bags. Josh smiled up at his Dad, nodding excitedly and pretending he cared; both he and Jensen knew it was all an attempt to get their dad to smile, receive his praise, and provide him joy. Jensen made the mistake of rolling his eyes.

After a quick cuff to the side of the head, Jensen met his father’s deep green eyes, so much like his own but hiding so much pain. “Maybe your grandfather can teach you some manners, boy. Send you back home as a man.” Fumbling in his vest pocket for the train stubs, their father then shoved Josh’s hand full of the tickets, and without another word he left them, leading their mother away and back to the pick-up truck.

“God dammit, Jensen...” Josh hissed as he shoved him forward towards the train, sighing as he did so. “You never learn, do you?”

His heart skipped a few beats as he watched the trees roll by them, the train carrying them far away from home. What if he did change? Another skip of his heart. What if he returned to Texas as a new person, a ‘man’ as his father suggested. He shivered involuntarily. What if he came back as hard and cold as his father did when he returned from the war?

June 16th, 1948
Boston, Massachusetts

Inside the great train, Jensen’s youthful eyes grew huge as they entered the city limits of Boston. He didn’t know exactly what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Thanks in part to the increasing number of Texas oilfields and the earlier industrial needs fostered by the war effort, Austin was well on its way to becoming a city worth something, in Alan Ackles’ words anyways, but Jensen knew that their home was quickly becoming a large city. Farm lands were being plowed under to make room for more store fronts, office buildings and manufacturing plants that were pumping out jobs and projects that were seemingly more important than another field of corn.

Jensen had always been certain that Austin was one of the biggest cities in the United States, it sure seemed to be bigger than any city he could remember being in Texas. But here, moving into the center of South Station, bustling with men in pressed suits and women in their office or travel attire, with the thrum of their movement washing over him, Jensen wasn’t so sure Austin was that big in comparison.

After disembarking from their train, the boys had been slowly making their way towards the main doors of the great station to await their grandfather’s arrival at the chosen meeting place. Jensen’s bewildered eyes flitted about taking in all the foreign sights of the strange city.

From against one station wall, a young boy, no older than Josh, stood tall while bravely crying out to the passersby in hopes of selling his newspapers to anyone who had a nickel to spare. Stopping to stare at the sight Jensen was nearly run down in the crush of rushing adults. In a panic he stumbled frantically forward trying to catch up to Josh. He knew he was supposed to stick close to his older brother, painfully aware that if he was separated from Josh that would be the end.

“Come on,” Josh urged impatiently, reaching back to grab Jensen’s shirtsleeve and tug him forward. “Papa said we would have to meet Grandpa by the harbor…” Jensen nodded quickly, allowing his brother to drag him along through the throngs of people and out onto the just-as-busy street. The buildings around them were tall, glass windows glistening in the morning sunlight, and Jensen heard himself gasp. There were definitely not buildings this big in Austin… “Jensen!” He snapped to attention and looked guiltily up at his brother.

Josh had already spun around and was adjusting his bag over his shoulder, knowing Jensen would soon be trailing after him. Jensen wasn't sure how Josh knew where he was going -- as far as he knew, they'd never met their Grandfather in Boston before. He could barely remember the large farm, except for the picture in his mind of a large, white farmhouse surrounded by fields and fields of corn and pasturelands. Jensen wanted to ask him how he knew where to go. The streets around them seemed to curve and jut off into every direction, and just looking around was starting to make him feel dizzy. But Josh had a determined expression on his face, causing Jensen to push his questions aside and follow along obediently.

Jensen gave a sigh of relief when he saw the ocean in the distance; the water in the harbor area was a deep, grey-green color, the sun reflecting off of the surface and Jensen swore he could see every ripple and every wave.

"Come on," Josh urged, unnecessarily. "We don't want to keep Grandpa waiting..." Jensen rolled his eyes, glad Josh hadn't turned around to speak to him. Instead, he doubled his efforts to keep up with his older brother's longer strides and they soon spilled out onto the large, cobblestoned area edging along the harbor.

The smell of rotting fish and sewage hit him instantly, and Jensen wrinkled his nose and took the few steps forward to peer over the wooden fencing to look down at the water. Here, it lost its deep green color and looked dark and brown, thick ropes of seaweed were climbing up, their slime covered leaves reaching for the sun. Jensen turned away from the water at the sound of laughter.

"You know boy, if you keep that sour expression on your face too long it's gonna end up sticking that way!" A tall, white-haired man was standing with a large hand clasped over Josh's shoulder, his green eyes shining as he gazed at Jensen. Jensen didn't recognize him at all, but his eyes and face undoubtedly showed 'Ackles' traits and he could almost see his father staring down at him. "Aren't you going to come and give your granddad a hug?"

Jensen stumbled over his own feet as he pushed himself forward and into the outstretched arms of his grandfather. The man curled his arms around both of the boys, his laughter shaking both of them to their very bones. He smelled of tobacco and sunshine and Jensen found the fears that had started to curl in his gut, at seeing the strange man, begin to dissipate. At home there had been too little laughter since his father’s return and the older man’s warm laughter stirred up sweet memories of days the boy had thought were long gone.

"Come on, boys," Grandpa Ackles pulled back and ran a hand through Jensen's hair, the act kinder and lacking the condescension he felt when his father did it. "I told your Grandma we would get home in time for supper. Jensen, you look like you've shot up more than a few inches since I saw you last, how old are you now? Six? Seven?"

"Eight," Jensen answered with a proud grin and let himself fall in step with his grandfather as Josh walked on the opposite side.

"Eight! Well, don't I feel old." His laughter was contagious and Jensen found himself giggling as well. They made their way down the pier, stopping at a large dock where a tall man, around his father's age if Jensen had to guess, was leaning against a post, watching them. "Hold on, boys," their grandfather said softly before pushing forward to speak to the man. They were talking quietly, all nods and smiles, and then he was back, the tall stranger following slowly with his own duffel bag over his shoulder.

"This is Gerry," Grandpa introduced the man, who smiled and held out his hand for them to shake, even young Jensen. "He's going to be heading back to the farm with us to help us out this summer. You boys make sure you listen to what he tells you, just like you would me or your Grandma. I don't want to hear about any disrespect."

"They'll be fine, Albert," Gerry shrugged, winking at Jensen. Jensen smiled back at him.

They fell back in stride, Jensen and Josh now walking side by side a little behind the two men, and headed towards where their grandfather had parked his old Ford Pick-Up truck. When they reached it, Jensen watched his grandfather slap the side and wipe the rust now on his hand on the thigh of his jeans.

"She's a beaut," he said, opening up the door and letting the boys clamber in after they tossed their bags in the bed of the truck. "It's what's inside that matters, and this old girl’s never ever let me down."

"Hey, I ain't gonna complain!" Gerry laughed as he placed his own bag in the back and took his spot in the passenger seat. "It's not like I even own a vehicle!" Both of the men laughed at that and Jensen looked at Josh; he thought everyone owned a vehicle... Everyone around them in Austin did, anyways. Josh just shrugged and shoved an elbow into Jensen's side, making him scooch over a bit on the wide bench seat.

Although the Ford was wide, and Jensen was small, the ride was tight sitting four abreast. Josh had determined that since he was now twelve, he deserved most of the leg room. Here in the close quarters of the old truck, they were failing at keeping their ‘silent’ fight for more room silent.

"Jesus… boys!" their grandfather's voice was loud in the cab, causing Jensen to freeze where he had his fingers ready to pinch the soft spot under Josh's upper arm. "I thought your daddy was joking when he said you two got along as well as oil and water."

Gerry laughed beside Jensen, shaking his head. "I bet my boys will end up being like this soon," he snorted, a funny sound that had Jensen turning to stare at him. Jensen's expression only made Gerry laugh harder and reach down to pull Jensen up onto his lap. "There, that better?" He asked, looking between the two boys. Jensen could feel himself blush, but Josh immediately moved into the extra space with a sigh of relief. Defeated, Jensen nodded and turned to look out the window while Gerry continued to chuckle.

June 24th, 1948
Somerset, Vermont

Jensen was in heaven.

They had been at the farm for a week, and already Jensen wanted to beg his Grandfather to let him stay at the farm all year round, wanted to plead for him not to send him back to Texas at the end of the summer. His father's voice, cold and disappointed, in the back of his head had him biting his tongue to keep from speaking any of his thoughts out loud. But that didn't stop him from wishing and wanting.

Every morning they were woken up by their grandmother at four am, the sun still hiding in the sheath of darkness. That morning, Jensen hardly needed to rub sleep from his eyes as he bounced out of the bed and slipped thick, wool socks onto his feet to pad into the kitchen where Gerry and his Grandfather were already sitting at the table, hands wrapped around mugs of hot coffee.

Grandma would smile at him and then Josh, who always took longer to get out of bed, before bringing them plates full of eggs, bacon and sausage, thick cuts of homemade bread toasted just right and slathered with homemade strawberry preserves, bowls of roasted potatoes and onions, and a large glass of milk. Jensen had never seen so much food in his entire life. Gerry must have felt the same, because even that morning, his eyes were as big as Jensen's post-breakfast stomach.

"Martha, you're trying to fatten me up!" Gerry teased but Grandma just chuckled and poured him more coffee.

After their breakfast, Jensen went with Gerry while Josh went with their Grandfather. Grandpa and Josh tended to the pigs, sheep and horses while Gerry always had something new for them to attend to in the mornings.

"Have you ever milked a cow, Jensen?" Gerry asked, grabbing a large metal pail from the side of the house. He had it swinging at his hip as he smiled down, large hazel eyes shining in the approaching sunrise.

"No!" Jensen gasped, excitement fluttering through his stomach. Yesterday morning Gerry had showed him how to set smoke-pot traps in order to cut down on the amount of bugs invading the corn fields. When Gerry had gotten a lungful of the smoke, he had started coughing and sputtering and swearing that he would convince Albert to try out 'those damned pesticides yet!' Jensen didn't really know what he meant -- he was just shocked and thrilled that Gerry had trusted him enough to light a match and set one of the traps up all by himself.

Last night at supper, when Grandma had talked about the eastern fence needing repairs, Jensen had assumed that's what they would be working on today before the sun came up. So now when Gerry offered to let him help with the milk cows the boy was too excited to even speak. He hadn’t actually handled any of the animals yet, short of dodging the chickens that were always scattered across every single path Jensen tried to walk down, and he was excited at the idea of doing so now.

"Well, if you're going to be spending some time on a farm, don't you think you should?" Jensen nodded and raced ahead, leaving Gerry laughing in the dust behind him. When Gerry finally caught up, Jensen was already standing at the wooden door of the big red barn, eyes wide as he stared at the cows still locked in their stalls. Their soft mooing and the scent of manure had already become a thing of comfort to the boy and Jensen turned to Gerry, all smiles.

"What do we do first?" Jensen was excitedly bouncing about on the balls of his feet, causing the cows to moo louder at the disruption of their early morning routine.

"Alright, alright, calm down there, kiddo!" Gerry pulled him off the door and pushed the metal pail into his arms. "Let's start here with Mary Lou." He moved into the barn, stopping at the first stall to swat the large, black and white cow affectionately. "She's usually the most impatient, doesn't like being made to wait."

Jensen nodded, agreeing with Gerry, because really, what did Jensen know? Gerry opened up the stall and got the cow onto a lead, the large animal snorting in protest as it was lead out into the open area of the barn and tied to a hitching post. Gerry then produced a small stool and set it down, motioning for Jensen to sit.

"Now, first and most important rule?" he waited for Jensen to meet his eyes, a serious look on his face. "We don't pull or twist or yank on the teats, got it? You do that and she's got every right to kick you and your milk pail right over. She's a hell of a lot bigger than you and I and we don't want to get kicked." Jensen nodded eagerly, crossing his legs tight under the stool’s splayed legs. "Now, first thing…. first is we want to warm up her udder," Gerry reached forward to cup the bulging, pink sack under the cow, rubbing in small circles. Jensen watched with rapt attention.

"You always wanna keep an eye where her legs are and her tail; getting stepped on or smacked ain't any fun. Put that pail down there," Gerry pointed and Jensen obliged. "Now, your hands are a lot smaller than mine, so you're gonna just work on one teat at a time." Slowly, and with more patience than Jensen was sure any adult had ever used on him, Gerry explained how to coax the milk from the teats, how to tell when a quadrant of the udder was 'dry', and how to clean and take care of the animal's udder before and after he milked them. It took him almost six times to get a stream of milk out of his first cow, but when he finally did, the white hot stream splashed noisily into the bottom of the metal pail, without a thought the little boy let out a jubilant cry of triumph that startled the cow into kicking out and knocking the pail over.

Jensen's cheeks burned as Gerry laughed and moved to soothe the cow. "Don't worry, son…" he consoled Jensen, smiling down from behind the cow's large, wet snout. “Happens to the best of us..." Jensen felt better after that.

July 1st, 1948
Somerset, Vermont

"Boys!" Josh stopped, mid-splash and stood up straight, water rolling down his chest in thick rivulets. "Boys! Come on! Lunch time!"

"Lunch!" Jensen echoed, gasping as Josh shoved him hard and he splashed back into the cool water of the creek. He sputtered, coughing up water he had swallowed, and raced up the embankment, hot on Josh's heels.

They had gotten the afternoon off -- Albert and Gerry had gone into town after their morning chores and since the fence had been mended, and the crops would be watered later in the afternoon once the threat of the high noon sun was gone, there was nothing left for Jensen and Josh to do. They had hung around the house for a while, helping their grandmother cut up some fresh strawberries and picking apart raspberries from their stem segments so she could make preserves, but soon they were more in her way than they were helpful and she sent them off outside to play like 'proper boys their age'.

The small creek ran by the edge of the property, separating the corn field from the dense forest. Jensen loved sitting on the side of the bank, letting his feet dangle in the cool water while minnows nibbled at his toes before they were chased away by him kicking up a current. His eyes were always trained on the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of a fox or rabbit or maybe even a deer coming to the bank for a sip.

Josh, however, was never patient enough and after five minutes, complaining constantly about the sun beating down on his back, he had torn off his jeans and cannonballed into the water, drenching everything Jensen was wearing. As far as Jensen was concerned, that was a declaration of war.

He hadn't even realized how much time had passed or how hungry he was until he was racing towards the house. The small dust cloud he and Josh kicked up was clinging to their damp skin and Jensen laughed joyfully as he ran, happy and free. When they came skittering around the corner of the corn field, the stalks now almost taller than Jensen, they slammed to a halt as they saw Gerry and their grandfather shaking hands with some man who had just dropped off the biggest tractor Jensen had ever seen. As they moved towards the men, the stranger climbed into the passenger side of old Ford and the car sped away down the dirt road. As the automobile disappeared the boys giggled when they saw their grandpa dancing a happy little jig.

Josh's eyes were probably just as wide as Jensen's own as they walked up and were greeted with huge smiles from both of the men and then were each swept up gleefully into their grandfather's strong arms.

"Boys! This is going to change everything!" Grandpa declared, grinning and laughing like a kid at Christmas, and suddenly Jensen felt his feet lift off the ground as the old man swung him around in a huge circle. "Let's go show your grandmother." And the next thing he knew they were all racing for the house.

Martha apparently approved, planting a huge kiss on her husband’s lips, and tears were in her eyes. Jensen didn't think the tractor was worth crying over, but he was happy because his grandparents and Gerry were happy.

"Things are looking up, Martha," he heard his grandpa whisper into his wife’s ear, leaning forward to kiss the side of her face. "We'll get some money back into this farm yet, you just wait and see." She smiled, nodded, and took his hand between her own as tears slipped down her cheeks. Albert seemed to find her crying was a good thing, another thing that had Jensen looking between them all with confusion. When he saw Josh's face he felt his spirits soar when it seemed his older brother was just as confused by this reaction as he was.

"That's it!" their grandmother exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "We're celebrating. Come on! Go inside and wash up!" She swatted playfully at Josh and Jensen and then turned to do the same to Gerry and Albert, ushering all of the men into the house. While they all washed the dirt and smell of the farm from their skin, she packed up the lunch she had prepared and met them all outside when they were dressed in their Sunday best.

Jensen and Josh clambered into the bed of the truck while the adults crammed into the cab. Jensen couldn't hear anything that was being said over the sound of the wind rushing past his face. Sitting with his back resting against the rear of the truck cab, he closed his eyes, turning his face towards the sun, and smiled. They drove into town and when they finally reached their destination and the truck engine was shut off the little boy once again opened his eyes. Jensen heard a squeak pass his lips before he could register it. The truck was parked before a movie theatre with huge colored movie posters plastered against the brick walls outside the entrance. He turned to Josh in awe.

Only once had they ever been to a movie down in Austin, and it was in preparation for their Dad to leave -- one last family event, just in case Dad didn't come home. Jensen had hated it. Their Dad sat stiffly in his seat, their mother crying softly beside him and Jensen couldn't concentrate on anything happening on the screen before him. Now, he would get to have this treat in celebration, instead of goodbye, and his heart was soaring.

"The Best Years of Our Lives," Gerry had stepped up to the widow and was purchasing their tickets with his own money, despite the protests from both of Jensen's grandparents. He shrugged them off, and winked down at Jensen stating he was just happy to 'be a part of the family'. Jensen smiled back at him and wondered why Gerry couldn't be his father instead... Smiling, happy Gerry who held him during thunderstorms and told him stories of the children he had back home in Boston with their mother. Gerry who taught him how to fly fish in the creek and didn't smack him when he got his line tangled in a low-hanging branch. Gerry who slipped him the crust from his slice of apple pie or gave him the first cup of ice cream or butter from the vat on Grandma's dairy days.

Jensen wondered if he should feel guilty. But soon they were ushered into the dark theater and Jensen was sinking into a plush, red chair that was ten sizes too big, and the movie was starting and thinking and talking were a thing of the past.

August 28th, 1948
Austin, Texas

Jensen was taller, tanner than he had been at the start of the summer. His hair had lightened and he had way more freckles than he cared to admit, but he felt stronger and better than he ever had. Now, he could almost outrun long-legged Josh when they raced to the creek after morning chores. He could climb up onto the barn roof easily if a baseball they'd hit flew up too high. He could help carry in firewood to stack for the winter without having to pause and take a breath as often as Gerry or his grandfather did.

But now he was home. There would be no more creeks or fishing or milking the cows. Dinner would be served promptly at six and there wouldn't be any more nights spent on the front porch listening to Gerry read from Animal Farm: A Fairy Story, or listening to his grandfather sing along as he strummed on his guitar. If they had been very lucky, Grandma had told her own story, weaving a web of a tale that was more intricate than the blankets she was knitting. Now, there was silence.

"I don't want to go," Jensen heard himself whine and he looked up quickly to meet Gerry's eyes, glad to see he was still smiling and not frowning. "I don't know why I can't just stay on the farm."

"Your parents have probably missed you, Jense," Gerry replied, ruffling Jensen's overgrown mop of hair. "Your momma can't wait to get you home, you read her last letter didn't you?"

Jensen shrugged and leaned against the wall of the barn, glad for the shade that was protecting them from the midday sun.

"Besides, I'll be leaving here with you. Have to get home and see my own boys," Gerry had a smile on his lips, and Jensen looked down at his feet.

"Do you think we’ll get to come back next summer?"

"I think your Grandad would appreciate the help," Gerry nodded and sunk down into a crouch, resting his elbows on his knees. "I told him I would be more'n happy to lend a hand next summer too. Probably bring my boys along, if he agrees. I think you would get along with them just fine."

"I think so too," Jensen finally smiled and reached up to wrap his arms around Gerry's neck, squeezing as he buried his head into the man's shoulder. "Promise you'll come back?"

"Promise," Gerry laughed and Jensen, regretfully, let go.

“Jensen, help you mother set the table,” Alan’s voice was gruff and he hadn’t bothered to peel his eyes from the paper spread before him or remove the pipe from between his lips.

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen replied, making his way to the kitchen. Donna Ackles was bent over the oven door, checking the roast inside of the oven. Jensen inhaled deeply, smiling when he met his mother’s eyes. “Smells good, Mama.”

“Thank you Jensen. Did you wash your hands?” She moved quickly, batting his hands away from the stack of plates on the counter and gave him a look. He shrugged, looking away from her and moved around to the sink. “Good boy, now go on!” Donna nudged the plates towards him and kissed the top of his head as he went to dry his hands. “Tell your Father and Josh that dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Jensen set the table quickly and collected his brother and father just in time for Donna to be bringing food to the table. Alan said grace quietly, and soon they were relaxed into comfortable conversation over their meal. Jensen found himself content, cutting up his roast as he listened to his brother talk about the possibility of starting to work at the pharmacy down the street when his father cleared his throat.

Jensen froze and his eyes flashed up at Josh. They all knew what Alan clearing his throat meant; someone was in trouble. Jensen swallowed instinctively and slowly raised his eyes in his father’s direction, relief washing over him when he realized Alan’s steely gaze wasn’t pinned on him.

“Donna,” the old man cleared his throat a second time and Jensen found his relief slowly ebbing away and being replaced, again, by fear. His mother, however, seemed completely unfazed and continued buttering her dinner roll, raising an eyebrow in her husband’s direction. “What was happening at that job of yours today?”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Donna waved her hand, dismissing their father, and Jensen felt his eyes widen.

“Nothing? I’ve never seen Jeffery Dean move so fast in his life. I’m sure whatever it was will be plastered in that rag they call a newspaper by tomorrow morning. I’m also sure it will sound much better coming from you.”

“Oh, Alan,” Donna sighed and placed her roll down, fixing her husband with a stare. “It’s not the best dinner conversation.”

“What else should we talk about?” Alan asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “We’re a family; we talk about work and our days. Jensen! Do you have anything you want to talk about?” Jensen shook his head and looked down at his plate, his ears turning pink. “And Josh already shared his day. I think that makes it your turn.”

“Seriously, Alan! You expect Jensen to share anything with you while you’re acting like that?” She laid her hand over Jensen’s arm and it took everything he had not to pull it back and bolt. He was less than grateful at being put on the spot, but thankfully, his mother gave in. “There was just a bit of trouble with one of the men I work with… He had been caught with… another man.” She paused and raised an eyebrow. Across the table Josh coughed.

“You’re joking.” Alan’s voice was cold and Jensen looked up, confused. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about two men being together… He remembered his father had had guys he’d been friends with before the war. Jensen had plenty of boy friends that he and Josh hung out with all the time.

“No, I’m not... there had been rumors but nothing more than that. He had really only—"

“You have been working with… with… faggots, Donna?” Alan slammed his hands down so hard on the table, Jensen jumped again and looked across the table at Josh who looked just as surprised at their father’s outburst. “And you’re going to make excuses for them? I did not risk my life securing our freedom for people to throw that away living in sin and being… abominations. We lost good men, real good men.”

“Alan, I never—"

“I don’t want to hear it, Donna! We will not be associated with that kind. And if your so-called employer has no qualms against hiring a bunch of women and queers? You’re not going in tomorrow.”

Silence fell over the table as Alan shoved his chair away from the table and stormed from the room. Jensen didn’t understand what his dad had meant, but recognized the anger well enough. Josh sniffed once, kicked the chair beneath him as he shifted his legs and picked at his food. Jensen just swallowed hard and wondered if he should ask…

“Jensen, eat your potatoes.” Donna’s voice made him jump but the look on her face made him nod and push his questions back. It didn’t matter anyways. Not really. Jensen glanced at his mother again and hoped she would listen to Alan, wondered if he would wake up in the morning to find Donna setting the breakfast table and cooking the way she used to before she’d taken this job. He would love to have his mother’s sweet words and encouraging smiles, instead of the stony silence and glares they’d been greeted with from their father as of late.