Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You really deserve this, Jensen."

His imitation of his commanding officer needed work. Jensen knew that well enough as he walked up the stairs to his new unit's barracks, designed to house less than a full squad. So far they numbered four, with a fifth in the process of acquisition.

Muttering under his breath again, he shuffled the duffle across his body. "Sure, you basically blew up the unit a few months ago, but water under the bridge. You're ready for the next step in your career- new rank, new assignment. Not many captains under the age of twenty-five, you know, you should be proud of yourself."

He'd enlisted when he was seventeen. By the time he was twenty, he had a bachelor's degree in three fields and the rank of second lieutenant. Twenty-two had seen him to first lieutenant, and now he was a captain, just so his old unit could be rid of him.

The NCOs didn't mind him much. They were used to lieutenants fresh out of school trying to give orders to sergeants who'd been in the Army since before the newly-minted officers were born. Jensen had known better, deferring openly to their experience, and listening to their suggested orders to keep his company in good shape.

It was the other officers that couldn't handle him. He talked too much, too quickly, out of turn, with no regard for tone or timing. He questioned orders in front of the whole battalion, questioned the other company commanders, questioned the staff of the battalion. To add insult to injury, he could and did find ways to access information above his pay-grade, and used that to try to get his way.

He was making their unit look bad, and they were sick of it.

Now, he was assigned to a Special Ops detachment that had, preemptively, been called The Losers. Of all the derogatory names they could have, he was sure this was the laziest, though probably the most apt. His new CO, a colonel called Clay, had been on the edge of a dishonorable discharge for disobeying orders in the field. He'd managed to prove he was justified every time, but he'd run out of units willing to take him in.

He'd heard of the other captain in the unit, guy named Roque- his reputation was not quite so respectable as Clay's, filled with questionable engagements that had led to his own men falling as much as the enemy. He still needed to check out the sergeant that Clay was working on transferring from Springfield, Porteous or something like that, but Alvarez-

When he opened the door to the common area, he expected to be the only one there- Clay had said Alvarez had already reported but rarely spent time in the unit area except to sleep. Finding him on the couch watching some kind of Spanish soap opera was unnerving, especially with the look he fixed Jensen with.

Alvarez had a very distinguished history as a long-distance asset- a sniper. He was good at what he did, though the shots he took were often not to regs. Jensen hadn't been able to find a reason in his personnel file for his reassignment here, but he had his theories. Alvarez's confirmed kills weren't unreasonable in number, but the shots he made were often impossible, and precise, and eerily consistent. It had his unit scared that he was going to snap and engage them with friendly fire. They wouldn't stand a chance against him.

Jensen knew he wouldn't, unarmed and hindered by his pack while Alvarez was lounging across the length of the couch. His back had been to the door, which more thoroughly explained the animosity in his stare as Jensen walked in. There was also the presence of the soap opera, which could incur some kind of judgement if Jensen were a lesser man.

Instead, he glanced at the screen, realizing he recognized this particular drama.

"Wasn't she murdered last week?"

Alvarez raised an eyebrow at him, and Jensen couldn't decide if that was a cue to shut up, or explain himself, or really just walk away before something bad happens. Jensen had never been the best at eyebrows, or most facial expressions.

He took a few steps in, meaning to cross the room to get to where he thought another room had to be, explaining as he goes, "I'm serious, she was fighting with Consuella about whether or not the drapes went with the dishes, and then Consuella told Bernardo that Josephina was carrying his baby so he threw her off the balcony to hide the shame from his brother Bob."

The door was within reach when Alvarez finally spoke. "You are making fun of me."

"I'm making- no, I'm not! That's what happened!"

As he turned back, Jensen thought he saw a shift in Alvarez's expression, though he wasn't sure what it meant. There was less danger in it, a softness to dark edges of his face. The file had Alvarez's physical description, but no pictures; Jensen wasn't sure how he imagined him, but this lithe, angular Spaniard with something like hesitation on his face was not it.

After a moment, he rubbed the back of his neck and explain, "Okay, I don't actually know what happened. I don't speak Spanish, and they don't have subtitles, I just kind of make it up as I go. I'm really starting to think Bob isn't Bernardo's brother, I think they might be married, but then I don't understand how Josephina factors into-"

The sound of an indignant snort cut him off, and he was sure he heard Alvarez mutter something sounding remarkably like gringo under his breath. There seemed to be less tension in his shoulders, though, so Jensen assumed this was his chance to escape.

Before long he found himself wandering back out, despite the ridicule and aggression he knew was waiting for him. Alvarez didn't say anything, which seemed to be a theme for him, so Jensen took up residence on the loveseat that faced the door, trying to pick up where the plot left off from what he last imagined.

He intended to do so silently. He should have known better.

"Why is Consuella's hair red now?"

Alvarez shot him another look, and Jensen still had no idea what it meant. He was pretty sure he was going to get shot, or at the very least one of those very sturdy looking boots were going to be thrown at his face. He attempted to not flinch, tensed in expectation.

"She is disguised."

The softness of his voice surprised Jensen. He continued to expect some hardness to his voice, an edge that was meant to shut Jensen up, though Alvarez wouldn't know how pointless his actions were. Jensen didn't read voices any better than he did faces.

But he spoke softly, and presented with a chance to know what was going on, Jensen asked, "Why?"

Clearing his throat, Alvarez explained, "Because when Yadrira died- you call her Josephina- it was supposed to be Celia."

Jensen assumed Celia was Consuella's real name. "Okay, but what about Bernardo-?"

"Celia told Yadrira about his affair with Ramon. He was protecting his honor."

Over the next hour, Jensen asked so many questions that eventually Alvarez went online and found episode summaries to catch Jensen up with the current season. The camaraderie was strange to him, but it felt good to be allowed to talk without feeling guilty. Alvarez didn't even seem to mind all the questions, though once or twice he went back to muttering under his breath in a way that Jensen knew was derisive.

It felt good, though.

When the day's episodes were over and the hours of daytime game shows had started, Jensen suddenly realized that most people didn't know how to find and read personnel files.

"So now that you know my weakness," He offered as Alvarez muted the television, "I guess you should probably have a name to go with it. You know, for when you decide to paste it all over the barracks so I can get my ass handed to me by new and exciting team members."

Alvarez suddenly had that look again, a dark, metallic glint in his eye that made Jensen wonder what he'd done wrong. The list was long, he had to admit, but he didn't think any would warrant such a cold, punitive stare.

Then it was gone. "Well?"

"Well- oh, right!" Managing a sheepish laugh, he offered, "Jensen. Name's Jake Jensen."

Alvarez's hand moved towards his head, and for a moment Jensen was sure and worried that he was going to throw a salute at him. The worst thing that had ever happened to him was outranking an NCO and requiring them to salute him.

Instead, Alvarez stopped, as though suddenly realizing his mistake. After a pause, he stood, walking over to the- oh, so Jensen was sharing a room with this guy. That's cool.

When he returned, Alvarez was wearing a hat that looked like it belonged in the sun, no matter what climate, and that belonging echoed across his gaunt shoulders. Once he was seated again, he repeated the movement, dragging his fingertips along the bottom of the brim in a field hand's salute. Somehow, this was the safer option.

Jensen ended up bringing his laptop out to the loveseat, stretching out with the machine on his belly. He was still looking into the other sergeant who was being acquired for their mismatched unit, but he sounded like a decent guy. His buddies from BCT called him "Pooch", which gave Jensen a good feeling. How bad could a guy named Dog be?

He didn't realize he was falling asleep until he felt the computer sliding from under his hands. In a panic, he clutched at it, eyes flying open to keep it from falling.

It wasn't falling, though; Alvarez was pulling it away from him, looking at him with another unreadable expression. Jensen would guess it was close to skeptical, but in this context he couldn't really be sure. The panic turned to embarrassment, then back to panic at the idea that Alvarez was taking his machine- his machine!

He allowed it, though, glad when Alvarez closed it without so much as glancing at the screen before setting it on the table in the middle of the room. He extended a hand to-

Oh man.

Jensen's dirty secret was being offered, a throw blanket covered in pink and blue elephants. It matched the one he bought for his sister when he found out she was pregnant four years ago, and it lived with his three-year old niece in New Jersey. He kept this one with him so he didn't feel like he'd totally abandoned them with his sister's husband.

It had been tucked away under the standard-issue blankets on his bunk; Alvarez must have found it when he pulled back the carpet scrap the Army called a blanket. Jensen didn't know what to do, how to defend himself, how to stop the inevitable ridicule he'd earned.

His thoughts were shut off quickly when Alvarez gave up handing Jensen the blanket and just tossed it towards his face. He returned to his couch, turning now to point his boots- and eyes- to the front door. It was dark outside by that point, and since the lights hadn't been turned out, the room was dimly lit by the now muted television.

There seemed to be a message for Jensen, though he had never been good at body language or facial expressions or anything that wasn't staring him in the face. Regardless, he thought he understood that Alvarez had no interest in making a fool of him. Instead, he was making sure Jensen didn't break his equipment, and had his comfort, and it was- it was strange.

Better not to think on it too hard, he decided. Alvarez certainly didn't seem to be. Jensen arranged the blanket over him, tucking the soft material against his cheek and curling on his side to stare at the television screen. Spanish news had started, and though he was completely clueless as to the content, it was still comforting to have the noise and light.

---

Colonel Clay walked back into the barracks after spending an afternoon trying to convince a general that he needed Roque out of lockdown to report to the unit. He was pretty sure he would be finding either Alvarez cleaning his weapon, as was his way, or his new captain hacking into some classified file- which was in fact, Clay understood, his way. Based on reports from their individual units, he wasn't sure the two would mix well.

Instead, he found Alvarez stretched out somewhat lazily on the couch, eyes locked on Clay as he walked through the door. Jensen was likewise prone on the loveseat, wrapped in a brightly colored blanket, fast asleep.

For a moment, he considered raising questions. The common area was no place for Jensen to be sleeping. Alvarez shouldn't be staring at Clay like he wanted to pick a fight. If the kid had rubbed Alvarez the wrong way, Clay wasn't going to be held responsible.

Then he noticed the softly droning voice in the background. His Spanish was rusty, but he knew it by the music in the speaker's voice. He glanced between the screen, his computer-savvy captain, and his sniper sergeant. Alvarez still looked ready to scrap, but he was dead silent, and Clay knew it wasn't for his benefit.

Considering his options, he nodded to Alvarez, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and headed towards his bunk. He considered learning to stay in his own lane an improvement.

Chapter Text

Their first training mission as a team went about as well as expected.

It should have been a milk-run. Surveillance, reconnaissance, and extracting the target without being detected by the rest of the baddies. Jensen was set up to review security feeds and disable alarms as needed, Alvarez had a nest to observe and provide long-range support. Pooch was sent in as ground support, with Roque following for any necessary assistance.

Jensen had to admit, Clay had a good plan.

Problem was, Roque picked a fight with one of the baddies, and the baddies went into lockdown with Pooch inside, and suddenly they had to deal with a hostage situation on top of everything else. Alvarez kept eyes on Pooch as much as he could while Jensen got past the locked security (again), and they had to do a full-on assault to complete the mission.

Jensen was relieved that Clay didn't seem inclined to chew them out. After their official debrief, which prompted a lot of questions Clay told them not to answer, they went back to the unit area to figure out the whole clusterfuck. True to form, Alvarez didn't say much; Roque was the same way, but the way he looked at Clay suggested the Colonel should have known better.

Roque was much less intimidating in person, which wasn't saying much. The man was built like a tank and looked like he would picked a fight with one and win. He and Clay seemed to have some history, though, and it helped him appear human enough that Jensen didn't always feel like he had to watch his back around him. He still felt it more often than not, which was just how he was around other officers. There was just something about Roque that wasn't right.

On the other hand, Jensen liked Pooch immediately; they both enjoyed taking things apart and putting them together better than before, though their definition of 'better' usually went against the SOP. The week between Pooch's reassignment and Roque's release was spent investigating the microwave which had two settings: frozen in the middle, or tarmac.

Pooch had plenty to say in their debrief, but most of it had nothing to do with the mission itself.

"Look, Colonel, this is a matter of life and death here. I have to go to Springfield."

It was a lot easier for Jensen to understand Clay's expressions: there was always an exhausted undertone to them. "You're trying to tell me that they can't handle you not being home for less than two weeks, Sergeant?"

"Okay, here's the thing-"

Pooch pulled out his phone, flicking through screens until he found his destination. Jensen caught sight of a woman's face as the phone passed to Clay; Pooch had already shown him pictures of Jolene, so he wasn't as surprised as Clay was.

Pooch continued, "If I'm not back in Springfield to go to her sister's wedding in two days, I'm dead. She doesn't care that I was a hostage, sir, all she cares about is me being her plus-one."

"Damn," Roque mumbled, looking over Clay's shoulder to see. "You sure she's not just fucking with you, man? Like no offense, but she is way out of your league."

Pooch grinned, dopey and smitten, and Jensen was almost jealous. "Trust me, I know, but she's been putting up with me since high school. At this point, I'm figuring she's serious."

Handing the phone back, Clay studied Pooch's face; there was still that exhaustion to him, but Jensen could see the fondness there, too. He and Roque had gotten into long stories about the things Clay had done for love, or lust, or whatever it was that got his blood pumping. He probably wanted to say that's all this was, but he knew better.

He glanced at his watch, then sighed. "We've got a week before the next mission. Get out of here, all of you. I've gotta figure out how to not get us killed next time."

Pooch vaulted over the couch to the room he shared with Roque to grab his gear and go. Roque didn't seem to inclined to hurry, though Jensen didn't remember a next-of-kin in his file so maybe he wasn't planning on going anywhere. He and Clay would probably end up in one of the bars just off base chasing skirts, as was their way.

That was a secondary consideration, though; Jensen knew where he was going. It was ten hours to New Jersey, and yeah, he hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, but he could make it.

Pooch narrowly avoided slamming into Jensen as he danced out of his room with his duffle.

"Whoa, sorry about that, Jay," He slapped a warm hand on Jensen's shoulder, grinning still. "You heading up to Jersey?"

That's probably the reason Jensen liked Pooch so much; he listened to what Jensen was saying, same way Alvarez did, and took the time to care. This was the part of being on a team that Jensen hadn't had before, the part everyone said was important. Now he understood.

Grinning himself, Jensen agreed, "Yeah, gotta check on Jess and Livia. Have fun at the wedding, don't do anything I wouldn't."

"No danger of me hacking into DoD restricted files," Pooch said with a knowing tone, probably because he didn't believe Jensen could do it until he showed him.

He was still grinning, though, and it was weird to think that Jensen wasn't in trouble for it. Well, maybe he would be later when Clay found out, but not at the moment.

They tossed well-wishes over shoulders as Pooch headed out and Jensen continued to his bunk to pack. He took his time, hoping that the others will have dispersed to avoid any further questions. Pooch's questions he didn't mind, nor Alvarez- but then, Alvarez rarely asked questions unless Jensen initiated things. That happened a lot, though.

By the time he made his way back to the common area, Clay and Roque had indeed found better things to do. Alvarez was still sitting on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions, eyes slowing opening as Jensen inevitably smacked into the doorway of their shared quarters. An eyebrow raised ever so slowly, questioning.

Jensen was getting better at reading the sniper's body language. Times when it was just the two of them were much easier, with Alvarez less inclined to hide and Jensen more able to focus on him. It seemed obvious that he was exhausted, prepared to accept the quiet of the barracks for a week while everyone else left.

It sat badly with Jensen.

He made a gesture that he hoped would convey his departure, though he had no doubt it would be awkward. Alvarez mirrored the motion in a way that looked far more graceful, and for once Jensen didn't feel like he was being mocked by it. He thought it was almost permission to leave, which, given the difference in their ranks, should probably have been insulting.

Instead, there was guilt. It followed Jensen all the way out to his reasonably shitty car, and despite his best efforts he wasn't able to stow it in the backseat with his duffle. He ignored it long enough to get his seatbelt fastened and the engine started, but he couldn't get any further.

Alvarez didn't have any next-of-kin listed either. He very obviously wasn't in a hurry to get away from base. He'd probably spend the whole week alone, sitting on the couch watching his telenovelas. Maybe that's what he wanted, Jensen argued with himself, but it didn't stick.

He ended up stalking back up the stairs, intended to say something ambiguously suggestive regarding Alvarez's plans for the week. By the time he opened the door, finding Alvarez in the same position he left him in, watching him with that exhausted look- everything he'd planned, all the words he'd prepared, deserted him.

With an edge of panic in his voice, Jensen offered, "Okay, so funny story- I got all the way down to my car, was totally ready to go, and out of the blue I realize I have no idea how to get to from South Carolina to New Jersey. Now normally I would just grab a map and improvise but I also haven't slept in a couple of days and I'm not exceptionally good at multitasking when that isn't the case, so I was wondering if you'd mind right-seating for me on the way down."

The sniper had only raised an eyebrow as Jensen began, and now both were higher than even Jensen managed to inspire. He assumed that would mean no at the very least, or worse if Alvarez didn't take kindly to- whatever it was that Jensen meant to do. Mollycoddle? Is that a word? Coddle is definitely a word, but what does the molly part-

"Up."

For a moment, Jensen just stared at Alvarez, his mind in a perpetual state of buffering.

Alvarez rolled his eyes a little bit. "Jersey is up from here. Not down."

"Up- right, yeah, we'd be- it's north." Shaking his head clear, Jensen managed, "See, this is why I need supervision. A chaperon, as my sister likes to say, she's convinced I shouldn't be left alone for more than an hour at a time. Honestly, she's probably right, Jess usually is."

With a slight nod, Alvarez glanced away from Jensen, focusing on the dark TV screen. Jensen couldn't decide if that was dismissal, or refusal, or- he'd never been good at faces, or body language, and Alvarez was exceptionally good at making them impossible to read.

After a moment, Alvarez cleared his throat, flicking his eyes back to Jensen. "I'll be fine."

So it was refusal. Jensen nodded glanced down at his hands, realizing for the first time he'd been aimlessly gesturing the whole while. Of course it's refusal, why would Alvarez want to spend a week with Jensen with a ten-hour car ride on either end of it-

I'll be fine. Alvarez wasn't saying Jensen didn't need help. He was saying that Alvarez didn't need to be looked after. It was barely a difference, but it was there.

"Of course you'll be fine. That's not in question here, Alvarez." Jensen focused on his hands, his arms, trying to keep them from gesturing even more wildly to make his point. "The concern is that I may not in fact be capable of navigating this great country without assistance. Really, it's in the best interest of the unit if you keep an eye on me, the Colonel would definitely agree."

Alvarez was still staring at him, still exhausted- Jensen was pretty sure that's what the emotion was, he knew that one pretty well. It looked different on Clay's face than it did on Alvarez, but it had similar shadows, an ache that resounded through the whole body.

In a moment of what he hoped was clarity, Jensen murmured, "Look, I just- we both know you've got a bag packed. Spending a week in Jersey with me can't be that much worse than sitting here waiting for shit to hit the fan so you have to run, right?"

Something changed in Alvarez's face; another layer, another expression Jensen didn't know how to interpret. This time, he didn't even try, knowing it would just start the panic again. If Alvarez gave any kind of hedging response again, Jensen would just- go, and lick his wounds on the way back to his family. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten shot down.

Might be the first time he'd been rejected in this kind of situation, but that's a minor detail.

"Okay."

Again, Jensen wasn't sure he heard Alvarez's response. It wasn't until Alvarez moved towards their shared bunk that he realized that was a yes. The reality of that choice was still processing, but even so, Jensen grinned widely when Alvarez walked out of their room wearing his own duffle and his leather hat.

"Okay," Jensen repeated back to him, leading the way to the car.

---

"Listen, all I'm saying is, Pooch has a really good nickname."

Alvarez rolled his eyes somewhere in the middle of Maryland, having heard this point for most of the last hour or so. Jensen knew it was probably a sign to move on to another topic, but this one was what was stuck on his mind.

"We can't have just one good name on the team. Everyone needs a code name. Clay could be- okay, gimme a second for Clay, but Roque- scratch that, Roque needs some thought, too. Shit, and I don't think I'm allowed to give myself a name. So that means you have to be-"

"Cougar."

That stopped Jensen, so much so that he considered pulling over just to process it. He looked over at Alvarez, his eyebrows high above his glasses in an expression he'd thought was even appropriate for this situation.

With a small smirk, Alvarez continued, "In sniper school, my team- I was the fastest, and the quietest. They called me Cougar for it."

"...That- is great." Jensen grinned, pumping the gas pedal in his glee. "Oh, that is so much better than Pooch. As soon as we get back, I'm telling everyone. That's perfect."

Chapter Text

Jensen talked most of the ten hours it took them to get to New Jersey. The range of topics was rather astonishing, as was the way he moved easily from one topic to the next.

He talked about one of the guys he knew at BCT, could run a mile in three- and a half minutes. He brought up that one of the reasons cheetas were so fast is they used their tail as a rudder so they didn't have to slow down as much to turn. Of course, cheetas in captivity almost never mate because they're so nervous, so lots of zoos and rehab centers are giving cheetas service dogs- "Oh, Cougar, have you seen those weird-animal-friendship posts?"

Cougar found he didn't really mind.

He used to, when his old team couldn't keep quiet. Cougar wasn't stupid; for them, the silence was awkward, and even awkward small talk was better than awkward silence with a sniper. They tried to talk to fill that emptiness, to make Cougar prove that he was human, that he saw them as the same kind. That somehow made them feel safer, but it just grated on Cougar's nerves and made him withdraw further into himself.

With Jensen, it was different- it was better. For as much as Jensen was filling the silence, he was actually trying to make conversation with Cougar. Even then, he didn't seem to expect Cougar to put any work into it. He was content to just keep throwing things into Cougar's lap until he found something that was interesting to the sniper. When that happened, or when Cougar actually had something to add, Jensen would smile just a little wider.

They ended up in a decent neighborhood somewhere in a town called Manasquan. Cougar had never been so far north by choice, and never in such a sparsley populated area- Fort Jackson had more people. It was quiet, though, and as they walked up to an apartment building, Cougar could see the appeal.

He could also see a fatal flaw in Jensen's plan as he knocked on what Cougar assumed was his sister's door. When the door opened, the woman on the other side seemed drawn and nervous until she saw Jensen; then, immediately, the look returned as she flicked her eyes to Cougar. He was unexpected, and unknown, and she was clearly trying to decide if he would be allowed into her home.

The reason for her concern came tittering into the room on unsteady feet, followed by a happy squeal that must have been Jensen's name judging by how he rushed in to meet the ball of noise. Cougar watched as the sister steped out of the way, smiling ruefully and, in the end, gesturing for Cougar to come in as well.

Jensen was engaged in gleeful conversation with his niece. She was small for her age, her pale blonde hair sticking out in short, sharp angles from her round face. She was animatedly describing her day, brown eyes wide and excited, hands pressing to Jensen's cheeks and shoulders now that he'd scooped her up.

Cougar hadn't seen such a smile on Jensen the whole time they'd known each other.

It took a moment for the little one to notice Cougar. Once she did, she tucked her face into Jensen's shoulder a bit sheepishly, watching him from a distance. Jensen seemed confused for a moment before realizing the flaw that had already occurred to Cougar.

"Livia," He offered, speaking softly but with that continued note of excitement, "This is my friend Carlos. We get to call him Cougar. Do you know what a cougar is?"

She blinked at Cougar for a moment before answering brightly, "Lion."

"Si, a mountain lion," Cougar smiled, walking a little closer. "You are very smart, Miss Livia."

Livia gave him a smile back, though she was still happily tucked against Jensen's throat.

"Weren't you saving something from school for Uncle Jake?"

Again, a brief pause before Livia started to push away from Jensen so she could be put down. Once released, she walked slowly down the hall to retrieve whatever treasure she'd kept hidden for her uncle's delight.

Jensen grinned, turning to his sister. "She's not in school already, is she? She's only three."

"She is three, but daycare is for babies," She answered him in a way that suggested the words came from Livia herself. Turning to Cougar, she continued, "Hi, Jessica- everyone calls me Jess. Jake called you Cougar?"

Cougar took the hand she'd extended. Si, nice to meet you."

He congratulated himself on remembering how to meet new people- new civilians, what's more. That was perhaps what had surprised him most about Jensen inviting him along for the week, that he assumed Cougar would get along with his sister and niece.

Jess, however, seemed likewise unconcerned, though she did turn to Jensen with a look. "It would have been nice to know we were having company tonight."

"Well- yeah, okay, I could have called." Jensen looked sheepish, but he was still excited to be scolded all the same. "We've got a week of leave between training runs, I figured it'd been a while since I really had time off- and Cougar had nothing better to do, so-"

Rolling her eyes, Jess smiled anyway as she wrapped her arms around Jensen. "It's good to have you home. We missed you."

"I missed you, too. Both of you," Jensen agreed, holding her tightly. After a moment, he asked, his voice suddenly worried, "Jess, what- you're shaking, what's wrong?"

She stepped back, glancing down the hall towards where Livia had disappeared. With a sigh, Jess walked towards the kitchen, Jensen and Cougar in tow.

Cougar was a little reluctant. This had a scent of familial issues all over it, and he was almost certainly going to be an intrusion. That being said, it seemed like it would be worse to just turn tail and leave, especially since Jensen had gone out of his way to bring him here. There was no good options, so he took the best one he had and followed the Jensen pair.

"Jess."

She cleared her throat, making a vague gesture towards the dining room table. The three of them sat, Cougar closest to the door, even though that meant his back was to it.

"You didn't call," Jess explained, her voice quiet and void of anything like anger. "You never do, so I'm not really- but when you knocked, I thought it was- I just worried you were-"

Suddenly Jensen looked around, as if realizing. "Ivan's not here."

"No, he's not." Jess was rubbing her arms slowly. "About two weeks ago, he um- he came home in the middle of the day in one of his moods, and he grabbed me and- I guess he had the idea he was going to throw me off the deck, but he didn't get that far."

Jensen was frozen, trying to process what his sister was telling him. Cougar was likewise concerned and now even more aware of his back being pointed towards the door. He didn't have a weapon on him, nor did Jensen- but surely between the two of them they could handle someone who thought a man should terrorize his wife.

"How did you-?" Jensen finally managed to ask, though the sentence broke before he could finish.

Jess cracked a small smile. "Miss Simone, from down the hall- she'd heard us fighting. Everyone has, the walls are so thin here- and she came over one day and gave me a brand new, bright yellow frying pan. And she looked at me, and told me that I shouldn't worry about it breaking from being used. So I used it."

"....You didn't."

"Livia was at daycare still, so she doesn't know." Jess shrugged a bit. "I told her that Daddy slipped in the kitchen, smacked his head on the counter, and that's how he broke his nose and fractured his eye socket. And he's got a big project at work, so he's staying in a hotel that's closer to work in case he needs to work late at night."

Jensen rubbed a shakey hand over his face, sighing quietly. "Jesus- Jess, why didn't you call?"

"You're active-duty, Jake," She answered, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a mug from the sink to wash. "You could have been in the middle of something important for all I knew, and it's not like you could have helped. We've got a restraining order, working on a divorce, Ivan gets supervised visits on Wednesdays and Saturdays- I handled it."

Jensen didn't seem too pleased with that, but accepted it. He moved on to ask, "So when Livia gets home from school, who watches her?"

"Bruce, next door- or Clint, Livia adores his dog." She sighs, starting to rinse her dish. "She has a half-day tomorrow, I was going to have Ivan's mom watch her until I got home, but I'll just- tell her caretaker that you can pick her up."

Jensen waved that off. "She can just stay home tomorrow, it's not gonna be a big deal to miss-"

"She needs stability, Jake."

There was an edge to her voice, and it was matched as Jensen responded, "What she needs is to feel like someone actually cares about-"

Jess dropped the mug into the sink with a loud clatter, shaking visibly now as she turned to look at her brother. Jensen stared back, but he seemed to realize his mistake, and had the grace to drop his eyes.

Cougar decided now was the time to step in.

"Jake," He started, hoping the given name was allowed, "Why don't you see what your sobrina has to show you?"

Jensen glanced at him; Cougar pressed a hand to his shoulder, knowing that his face was hard to read and hoping Jensen would know that Cougar wasn't shaming him. It seemed to work, and Jensen gave a short nod and saw himself past the kitchen and down the hall to Livia's room. His voice was bright and excited as he entered, closing the door behind him.

Moving a bit more boldly now, Cougar stepped over to Jess, leading her back to the table and sitting her down while she worked on getting her breathing under control. He picked up where she left off, rinsing the cup once more and assuming she wanted some of the clearly hot coffee on the counter.

Rather than trying to guess, he asked, "How do you like your coffee?"

"Blonde and sweet," She answered, rubbing a hand over her face now as Jensen had done before. Siblings after all, Cougar thought to himself, never mind the fact that Jensen drank his coffee the same way.

She accepted it with a tired smile as Cougar sat next to her, still between her and the door but now better positioned to see it. She took a small sip before setting the cup down with a sigh.

"I know- Jake means well, I know he does." She glanced back towards where she could hear her daughter giggling in her room. "He and Livia are off in their own little world, most of the time, and he wants to make her happy, but I just-"

Cougar nodded, choosing his words carefully. "He can't always be here. And she needs to know that life keeps going, even when he's not here."

Jess sighs again but it seems to be in relief now, that at least one person doesn't think she's a monster for her choices. After a moment, she excused herself to call out for pizza, and before long Jake and Livia surfaced with a movie to watch on the couch.

Cougar was invited to watch with them, which was nice. Jake- and it was around this time that he realized he'd stopped thinking of him as Jensen and starting with Jake- stretched out on the couch the way he often did, with Livia curled up on his chest. Cougar took his place on the floor, leaning against the couch, boots pointed to the door.

Just in case, he decided.

When the pizza arrived, they migrated to the table. Livia didn't seem inclined to detangle from Jake, and judging by the look on Jess' face it was an argument they'd had before.

Thankfully, Jake set her gently in the chair between himself and her mother, adding, "There, now you get to be between your two favorite people while we eat, okay?"

Jess gave him a small smile, which Jake returned; Cougar was impressed with how much more comfortably Jake was able to read his sister's body language than he could with the rest of the team, save for maybe Pooch.

"After dinner, you and Uncle Jake can do your reading for the night," Jess offered, which sounded to Cougar like a truce. Jake didn't seem to mind.

---

"That didn't take long."

Jess and Cougar were standing in the doorway to Livia's room, observing the scene. Jake had managed to curl up on the toddler-sized bed with his niece, folded into a double of the blanket Jake had tucked into his pillow on base. There was a DVD menu playing perpetually in the background, but Jess just closed the door and left them to it.

"This is Jake's room- well, Ivan called it the guest room, but all Jake's stuff ends up here," Jess explained, opening the first door in the hall. "He'll regret sleeping with Livia in the morning, but he's not gonna move from that spot until then, so the bed's all yours."

Cougar nodded, managed to thank her before she turned and headed back towards when he assumed was her own room. Looking around, he could see a touch of Jake in most corners of the room. It was a comfortable look, though- lived in, not like most of the spare rooms Cougar had slept in over the years.

He stowed his bag between the bed and the end table, pressing his knife between the mattress and the wall- just in case. He checked the window on the opposite wall, glad it faced the front street and gave him a chance to see if someone was approaching. He'd watched Jess lock the door twice, and the windows were likely all locked since they were on the second floor.

Cougar checked anyway.

By the time he crawled into the bed, one hand resting just above the hilt of his knife, it was obvious how tired he was. He hadn't slept in two days, much like Jake, but he was more or less used to that by now; he shouldn't be so tired, so suddenly.

It was the smell of the pillows, he decided; rosemary and mint, like Jake's shampoo.

Chapter Text

The next day was quiet, and simple, and Cougar still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Jake slept most of the morning after seeing Livia and Jess respectively off to school- because daycare was, in fact, for babies- and work. Cougar had stretched out on the couch with one of the various books left on the tables in the apartment, and only managed to rouse Jake when he made lunch.

They'd both gone to pick up Livia from school. She seemed far less shy around Cougar now, and informed them both of her activities for the day. As best as Cougar could tell, her time was spent exclusively in arts and crafts due to the partial day. Livia, and consequently Jake, were immensely pleased with the development.

Cougar's afternoon was spent watching Jake and Livia pretend to clean her room, which mostly amounted to them finding things that led to games. He opted to do dishes, though there weren't many; he'd been raised by working women, and knew the last thing they wanted was to come home at the end of the day and do housework.

Jess was reasonably impressed with their progress that evening. She and Jake made dinner together, leaving Cougar and Livia to quietly discuss the evening's entertainment, The Magic School Bus. After dinner, Jess and Livia settled for their usual routine of folding laundry while watching musicals, which nearly led to Jake being banished for being off-pitch.

It was the domesticity of it that would echo in Cougar's chest later. The whole time they were there felt like some strange dream where he had a home again. It had been a long time since he'd felt that, since before he left home for the Army. This might have been what he was looking for when he joined, but to think he'd find it here-

Livia crashed out early, and Jess insisted that Jake sleep in an adult-sized bed.

"I'll take the couch," Cougar offered, more than aware of how much room there wasn't in Jake's bed. He'd slept in smaller spaces with more people, but Jake likely had not.

However, Jake waved the idea off. "Trust me, that couch is just- it's perfect for naps but once you try to sleep on it, something goes wrong and it doesn't wanna work. I'll take the couch."

Cougar tried for an obviously skeptical look, though based on Jake's reaction it didn't quite connect properly. "You think I would let you sleep on the couch after saying all that?"

"Well, I mean, short of sharing the bunk, those are the options, Cougs."

Giving something of a vague gesture, Cougar popped off with, "Bien, vamos a compartir."

He turned Jake back towards the room and started marching, pleased that Jake didn't put up a fight despite the concerned tone in his questioning.

"Coug- Cougar, I don't speak- I don't understand what you just said but may I remind you there is a child and my sister under this very roof-"

--

Livia jumped awake in the middle of the night, searching the dim corners of her room.

Gone. Uncle Jake is gone. He never leaves without saying goodbye but he's gone.

Tears well over her cheeks, despite her best effort to keep them in. Her teacher had told her that big girls shouldn't cry and she didn't much anymore, but her dream had been- and Uncle Jake isn't there anymore, when he said he would be.

She climbed from her bed and worked her door open, trying to keep her cries soft. She couldn't wake up Momma, she has work in the morning. Getting by her room was easy enough; crossing the living room showed that the couch was empty- no Cougar either, were they both-?

The door to Uncle Jake's room was bigger than hers, and heavier, but it made less noise; as Livia peered into the dark, she couldn't decide if someone was in the bed or not. There were lumps in the blankets, so she started closer, clutching at the blankets with difficulty, unable to pull herself up.

As the frustration and exhaustion became too much and her sobs drifted out of control, the form on the bed moved. Livia reached up immediately, only realizing then that this was not Uncle Jake- it was Cougar, blinking down at her sleepily.

Before she could decide what to do about her mistake, he reached out for her. "Come here, chica, it's okay."

Livia allowed herself to be scooped up, lifted over Cougar and finding Uncle Jake tucked against the wall. She immediately flopped onto his chest, digging her fingers into his tee shirt and holding on desperately.

In Jake's defense, he did surprisingly well for someone waking up to a sobbing ball of baby girl on his chest. "Livi- hey, sweetie, it's okay, I'm right here. I've got you, it's okay. Bad dream?"

She nodded against him, her sobs coming more fully now that she'd found him. She couldn't even remember what the dream was, but it was bad, and Uncle Jake was good, and he wasn't where he was supposed to be, and-

"Okay, alright, let's get some sleep, okay? Sleep right here with me and Cougar, that's my girl."

Jake flashed a look to Cougar he hoped was apologetic- sharing a bunk with him was one thing, but him and a sobbing toddler was something entirely different. Cougar held his gaze for a moment, then turned the bedside lamp on and shifted to get the blankets loose enough to tuck Livia in again.

She fell asleep again pretty quickly with Jake rubbing a hand over her back, humming soft melodies against her ear. Cougar watched as Jake drifted, startling awake from time to time if Livia shifted, or began to fuss. The last time it happened, he sighed, glancing over to Cougar again with a sheepish smile.

"So this- she has nightmares, sometimes, you know- kids do when they get stressed-"

Cougar reached over, pulling Jake's glasses from his face; Jake was amazed when he didn't flail and panic, and decided it had to be instincts about letting Livia sleep. Cougar set the glasses beneathe the lamp before turning it off and leaving them in the darkness again.

"Si. She will feel better in the morning."

Jake sighed and rubbed at his face. "Yeah, I just- I wanted her to have better than Jess and I had, you know? Didn't want her to have this."

For a moment, all that greets him is silence. He decided Cougar probably just fell asleep; the sniper had shown quite an affinity for falling asleep within moments of being given the chance. Then the quiet sound of shifting- so quiet that Jake would have missed it if he wasn't so nervous- and a warm palm is pressed to his cheek.

"But she knew to come find you, hm? And you were here to make her safe. So maybe that is better than what you had?"

Jake considered that, and tried to come up with a response but then Cougar's hand was gone. LIvia mumbled something in her sleep, rubbing her face against Jake's chest before drifting back to sleep.

Later, he'd reflect on the strangeness of the situation. Here he was, sharing a bed with a sniper with his niece tucked between them, and somehow it was the most comforting place he'd been since- probably ever.

--

Some months later, the team was on their first proper mission. The night was spent in rotating shifts of watch, with three beds and a couch between the five of them. Each hour, one would come off guard and wake the next, taking his bunk.

Jake was third watch, which was perhaps ill advised. He managed to stay awake for his hour without incident and went to wake up Clay. The problem was, he was supposed to be waking up Roque; Clay had been on first watch.

Clay didn't exactly give Jake shit for the mix-up, but there was a degree of exasperation in his voice as he mumbled, "I'm gonna remember this in two hours, Jensen."

Roque didn't complain too much, taking his position at the southern window to watch the street outside. Jake stared down at his bunk, the couch- a generous term for what felt like a pillow on wooden crates.

After a moment of consideration, he walked away from it and towards the bunk where Cougar was currently sleeping. Roque raised one eyebrow, expecting some sort of altercation in short order; Cougar had only been asleep the past hour, and only had three before he was up again.

Instead, Cougar shifted closer to the wall to make space. Jensen scrambled under the blanket after kicking off one boot, apparently forgetting the other and focusing on sleep instead. For a moment the sniper propped himself up, glancing at Roque, the still-awake Clay, and Pooch, asleep in his bunk; then he settled back onto the mattress, setting an arm over Jensen's back, as if to hold him still.

Roque glanced at Clay, who just blinked blearily before shaking his head.

"Oh no," Clay rolled onto his other side, facing away from the situation. "Not even thinking about touching that one."