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“I did a thing,” says Jensen and Cougar stops mid-step in the hallway.
The interesting thing - or one of many - about Jensen is that for all of his complaining about Cougar’s ‘sneakiness,’ this is not the first time the tech has gone completely unnoticed, his presence only apparent at the exact moment he chooses to reveal himself, even to a career sniper’s sharp, almost legendary senses.
But it wouldn’t do to say any of this out loud and possibly contribute to Jensen’s ego so Cougar merely schools his expression to calm curiosity and arches an eyebrow, his aborted step turned into a casual lean against the wall.
In his own defense, even the well-documented paranoia and hyper-awareness that keeps a Loser alive is soft and sleepy right now. They’re on leave, for one, which isn’t a definite sign of safety but certainly helps. And for two, these days were gifted last minute and without warning, the team grateful but leaving Cougar with no time to arrange anything in particular. He took what time he did have to call his sister but she reported, with much annoyance to mask her disappointment, that she was coming up on a due date for a paper for an incredibly strict professor and even if he would let her neglect her studies, kipping on the floor of her dorm and pretending not to notice her roommate’s flirtations are Cougar’s least favorite reasons to visit New York. He had reassured her, wished her well with her work, hung up the phone, and had only just begun to feel his brows furrow when Jensen offered him a ride and a trundle bed in New Hampshire.
Cougar will never admit this, least of all where his baby sister can hear, but that trundle bed might be his favorite place in the world.
The drive from base is never too terrible. Even with highway traffic and long stretches of nothing to see, there is still Jensen’s music in the borrowed Jeep’s speakers, his slightly off-key singing and constrained bopping, dancing in the seat. The first few times they made this drive together, there were books on tape and now there are podcasts, teammates finding over the years that they had more in common than mathematical skills, beloved sisters, and the satisfaction of a target well-spotted through a scope, of one kind or another. A couple hours of companionable noise as they leave the Army far behind them and they are pulling into the driveway of a tidy house in a tidy neighborhood, the glass of the front window often untidily decorated in hand-drawn pictures and cling decals of cartoon characters. When they arrive, Cougar never recognizes these cartoons, but by the time they leave, he is thoroughly educated in their names, history, and goals for the future.
Because when they arrive, Jensen transforms into Jake, a man with easy shoulders and a bright smile, raucous colors and fluid movements to complement, but not entirely match, the only other Jensens Cougar knows and loves.
Jesslyn Call-Me-Jess, Don’t-Tell-Him-My-Middle-Name-Jakie Jensen is Cougar’s age, or thereabouts, but gives off such a strong maternal energy that it took near a week of his first visit to her home before Cougar’s perception shifted one day to realize: Oh. She’s quite attractive. Then she had offered him an extra sweater and topped off his coffee before turning her back on him to lecture Jake about how he hadn’t separated the laundry and Cougar’s libido hadn’t really spoken up again since. No offense intended or received, she had never treated him as anything less than her annoying baby brother’s good friend and Cougar, who is very good at watching people, had never caught her looking at him in anything more than a friendly, occasionally concerned manner.
Jake says that is normal. Jake says that Jess was born concerned, exists in a constant state of concern, and it is his life’s work to make sure she forgets how to worry at some point.
Jess and her brother could almost be twins, at least are very clearly related when standing next to each other. Tall and broad-shouldered, grace in her step probably learned from dancing around clumsy charges, clever hands and eyes that flash with intelligence, if it weren’t for generous curves, the description alone would be identical to Jake. But Jess is certainly blessed in her endowments and Cougar considers his willingness to ignore them the greatest testament to his respect for the entire family. Jess’ hair is blonder than her brother’s, naturally where Jake will sheepishly admit to bleached tips, and she prefers contacts over glasses. Her wardrobe is flattering and attractive, high waisted jeans and fitted t-shirts, sharp lined slacks and soft looking blouses on work days, and the highest heel Cougar has ever seen her wear has been smaller than his own cowboy boots. She isn’t as prone to bright colors as her brother, but only in her closet - stepping into her house for the first time, to Cougar, was very similar to opening the door to Jake's closet back on base.
Jess is subdued where Jake doesn’t even try. Like her brother, she is more than capable of a competent grift, and the armor she wears for the world is neutral tones and natural makeup. Where Jake is constantly on the move and must keep his true personality on his person, Jess can keep it safe behind the doors of her home, can let it thrive in patterned furniture, stacks of quilts and afghans, splashes of color on the walls, and her daughter’s presence proudly displayed in every available nook and cranny.
And Beth.
Oh, Beth.
Little Bethy Jensen, who called him ‘Tee Coo’ for the first year of their acquaintance, whose mastery of the multi-syllabic ‘Tio Coo’ over base wi-fi brought tears to a weathered sniper’s eyes, who throws herself into his arms these days with squeals of happiness and demands for play. Bethany Jacqueline, ‘Because Jess wanted to make me cry’ Jake says, the only child to love Cougar since his own sister had stamped her foot and insisted ‘I am eighteen, Carlos, my name is Maria, not Marita.’ A love he never asked or hoped for and now cannot bring himself to imagine life without. How could any birthday be complete without a letter scrawled in crayon? How could spring pass without waiting hopefully to hear how a little girl liked the birthday present he picked out while overseas? How could he turn on a Los Tri game without comparing it wistfully to warm summer mornings and the scents of mud and grass while Petunias and Daisies battle for the ball?
Marigolds are not welcome in these musings.
These musings are also getting off track.
Cougar adjusts his lean against the wall into one just slightly more relaxed, dropping his shoulder ever so slightly until the soft sleeve of his t-shirt bunches. It draws Jensen’s gaze but that’s standard for this shirt, one of the few prints Cougar owns and a recent gift from Maria. The look on Jensen’s face when he discovered Cougar had an appreciation for David Bowie had been priceless.
But apparently, Jensen has ‘done a thing’ and when further explanation isn’t forthcoming, Cougar arches a curious eyebrow.
Jensen squirms, like Bethy after she’s been asked if she brushed her teeth.
“It was a… normal thing,” Jensen says, a line appearing between his brows, his nose wrinkling slightly as he avoids Cougar’s gaze. “Probably. But then it wasn’t.”
This is normal. Jensen gets an idea in his head, a good idea, Jensen has a lot of good ideas. But the more he works on it, the more the good idea becomes an overblown, overdramatic idea. It’s why Jensen is the smartest man Cougar has ever met and he will follow him anywhere, but at the end of the day, they’ll both agree they’re grateful for Clay, who sees Jensen’s ideas and cuts and carves until it’s basic and adaptable and allows room for the inevitable disaster the Losers have to improvise their way through.
Cougar once agreed to help Jensen to celebrate Pooch’s birthday and what had started as picking up a pre-decorated cake from the base grocery turned into an entire box of cocoa powder exploding over a kitchen already wet from the keg of Pooch’s favorite beer Jensen had insisted he knew how to tap while Cougar attempted to shut off a malfunctioning helium tank that wouldn’t create a seal for even one of the fifteen foil balloons stuck by moisture and drying cocoa powder to the walls, rickety kitchen table, and - somehow - the slowly rotating ceiling fan.
Cougar has been under strict orders not to help with Jensen’s ideas without Clay’s approval ever since. He’s only disobeyed a little, here and there.
Today, though, the abnormal part is that Jensen appears to be coming to him only after the idea has turned into a situation and Cougar keeps his expression placid while the tech fidgets.
He will examine that initial wave of hurt at not being included later. Perhaps never.
Jensen has not continued, so the next step of encouragement is for Cougar to tilt his head in the direction of the gaze Jensen is hiding from him. For this, he receives an awkwardly cleared throat.
“So, I know you hate being cold.”
This is also normal. Cougar is very good at his job, at the equator or near the poles, and he obeys his orders, but that doesn’t mean he’s shy off the clock how he feels about the weather. It is a shame that New Hampshire is such an inconveniently located state and that this surprise leave has fallen so terribly close to the New Year, but the Jensen house is always worth it. If asked this morning, Cougar would have been certain that his teammate already knew that.
He purses his lips and drops his brows.
Jensen shuffles his feet.
“This is a great house, Jess loves it, it’s got a room for me, Bethy gets a yard, great neighborhood, all that stuff.” Jensen shifts again and the lenses of his round glasses catch the hallways light overhead and flash annoyingly, allowing Cougar less of an inspection of his friend’s face. “That’s the stuff she wanted to prioritize when we were looking around and there was a budget and shit, duh, so it’s not perfect-”
“It is perfect,” Cougar says, out loud, because this conversation seems stupid at this point.
It gets Jensen to look at him and smile, warm and pleased, so it was clearly the correct response. “Right. Yeah, it is. But like, so far as dragging you here - willingly, I know, willingly dragging - in winter an’ feeling kind of bad about that, I remembered Jess has a tub. I don’t use it,” he adds quickly, and if Cougar squints he could imagine a light flush on Jensen’s cheekbones, “there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just like a standard builder-grade thing, Jessie barely fits in it.”
Cougar nods. They might look alike but Jake has a good few inches on his sister, not to mention his shoulders or layers of muscle. There is a connection to be made here but the tech is, as usual, speaking more quickly than his listener can fully process and respond.
“But she does the spa thing sometimes and says it’s still good for the cold and there’s stuff that makes it more comfortable and I looked up what she told me and I bought some things and I just looked at it and I think I went too far.”
Cougar blinks, mild, allowing himself a moment to make all the necessary connections. It will be too long for Jensen and he will go back to fidgeting but Jensen is used to that, and clearly wants Cougar to have some sort of reaction, so he may as well go about having one.
But the conclusions Cougar begins to draw from this explanation are making an increasing amount of static in his mind and he knows he is frowning.
Now Jensen is not only flushed and avoiding his gaze; the tips of his ears are red.
“Show me,” says Cougar, because his imagination is not a limited one but he is having trouble finding a conclusion that lines up with the relationship he and Jensen have.
Friendship. The friendship they have.
About sixty seconds later, standing in the doorway of the bathroom attached to Jess’ master bedroom, Cougar knows his brow is furrowed, his lips are pursed, his head tilted, and he could not smooth his features if he tried.
The bath, as Jensen had said, is builder-grade. A molded tub-shower combination in off-white, laminate flooring instead of tile, walls painted a calming blue. The toilet is white but the seat-lid is off-white and clearly purchased separately, same with the shower hardware that is a shiny chrome and the paper and towel rolls in a nickel finish. The organizer hanging from the showerhead is mostly full of products and soap, none of which smell overpowering. There is an extremely fluffy bath mat in the shape and color of a bright yellow seashell and on the wall is a framed poster of a goat staring head-on at the viewer with the text ‘Nice Butt.’
It is an extremely Jess-Jensen sort of space.
But these are not the ‘things’ Jake Jensen has ‘done.’
Those, Cougar can tell by the lack of wear on each item, would begin with the black tray that hangs cantilevered off the side of the tub, holding the book Cougar had packed - in his duffel - for the trip and a glass of water. Closer to the tap end, a bag of Epsom salts is balanced on the edge of the tub with, of all things, a candle and long-handled lighter. Inside the tub and presumably attached by suction cups is in inflatable back pillow with a sort of hinged, smaller pillow attached where one might rest their neck. There is some sort of clear plastic round… thing covering the overflow drain directly below the tap, covering the lever that controls the stopper in the bottom. There are two fluffy towels neatly folded and sitting on top of the toilet tank and also.
Also.
A scrunchie.
The scrunchie is red.
Cougar could not ignore a body that is directly behind him if he tried, so he is fully aware of Jensen’s fitful fidgeting behind him. It simply extremely hard to stop looking at the scrunchie. The first five attempts merely result in a frozen gaze as his mind’s eye tries to show him the process Jensen went through to choose a scrunchie for his hair.
The word ‘scrunchie’ is beginning to lose all meaning in Cougar’s mind. When he does finally tear his gaze away, it is to the second most baffling item in the room. It will probably upset Jensen to call attention to it. Cougar has no control over this.
He picks up the candle.
Behind him, there is a sound not unlike the helium escaping from Pooch’s foil balloons.
The candle is called ‘Mountain Lodge.’ This explains exactly zero things about the situation to Cougar.
So he falls back on the only words he can count on: he repeats what Jensen has said.
“You did a thing.”
“And… then I looked at it.”
And believed he had gone too far with 'the thing.'
Cougar pops the top off the candle with minimal effort. He has been on many mountains, if never a lodge, and none of them smelled like this. But he can’t deny, it is a deeply calming smell.
The helium noise isn’t happening anymore but he can still feel Jensen fidgeting behind him.
“What did it?” Cougar asks, candle in one hand and lid in the other, lifting his gaze to the tub again, the pillow, the tray, the book-
“The water.” Jensen’s voice is small.
Cougar narrows his eyes at the water glass, which sits innocently on the tray, accepting no responsibility. He hums quietly, considering.
The weather is not so bad today. Fifty Fahrenheit, which is not comfortable and Jensen says it is because the Earth is dying, but there is no snow or howling wind.
Cougar tilts his head back slightly, not enough to look behind him, but the motion snaps Jensen’s attention to him immediately, which was the point. “Jess?”
“…cool with it. I asked this morning when I got the last thing.”
Jensen had walked outside after breakfast with Bethy dangling down his back, arms locked around his throat, and Cougar had not loved that but had also seen Jensen tense his neck and spend the entire trek to the mailbox referring to his niece ‘avenger of wrongs,’ ‘goody-goody superhero,’ his ‘great nemesis,’ and when they had arrived back in the house with a stack of envelopes and a package with a blue smile on the side, had collapsed flat on his face to the floor and sworn vengeance.
Cougar and Jess had dutifully hailed the conquering hero.
Jensen had an idea, collected his supplies, arranged them as necessary, and considered the results. Jensen is the smartest man Cougar knows and he would follow him, unquestioningly, into any situation Jensen deemed worthy enough to throw himself into. Jensen’s ideas, if often overblown, are generally very good ones.
“Go away.”
Jensen’s silence is one thing. The way he freezes, however, is very loud. “What?”
“Irse,” Cougar replies, Spanish for emphasis, and his brow finally smooths as he sets the candle down, the lid off but settled quietly next to it on the edge of the tub. He slides a foot back, easy with the laminate floor and his thick wool socks, and nudges the door a little. Possibly into Jensen’s face.
“Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah! Okay, yeah, I’ll just- yeah, I’ll do the thing, the new thing, the ear-say thing,” and Cougar snorts because much as he loves to play dumb, Cougar at least knows that Jensen has a decent grasp of Spanish. “I’ll do the- I’ll be downstairs.”
Cougar hums agreeably, reaching back to push until the door clicks. He feels his lips curve into a smirk without really consulting his brain when there’s one beat, then two of silence, followed by footsteps leaving the bedroom just a little too fast to be casual.
This is, perhaps, not something friends or teammates do for each other. He cannot imagine himself accepting these gestures from Pooch, much less Roque. But when he turns on the tap and the hot water begins to flow with the dull roar of pipes, Cougar finds himself lighting the candle, taking a drink from the glass, measuring out the salts that will help with the joints that ache in the cold.
The round plastic thing, he realizes, will allow the water to get much higher than the drain overage would normally allow.
Cougar smiles and ties up his hair with a red scrunchie.