The crux of the matter is this, Chris decides, as he chucks his bag into the rental car and slams shut the trunk, Jensen just has lousy taste in guys.
The guy who'd tried to tie Jen up whilst he was sleeping- no prior warning or discussion of safe words- when they'd only been seeing each other for a week and a half? Creepy.
The two separate boyfriends who'd managed to crack Jensen's ribs on three occasions- all during what Jen had blushingly described as rather energetic sex- and then not troubled themselves with sticking around the ER when Jen was getting them wrapped? Bastards.
The seven guys Chris knew had cheated on Jensen- two with ex-girlfriends, four with random men picked up in clubs, and one with Jensen's own cousin- and then had the gall to call Jen a slut? Piece of shit scum the lot of them.
So, it is only reasonable, hell, it is only goddamn necessary that as soon as Chris realized that Jen's voice turned soft and warm whenever he spoke about this kid, Jared, that he haul ass and get himself up to Canada to see what's doing.
It's not a long ride from the airport to the hotel Jen's booked into, but it gives Chris enough time to come up with some ideas as to what he's going to do to Jared if he turns out to be another fucking asshole who treats Jensen like shit and breaks the boy's heart.
Some of Chris's ideas are even pretty inventive.
His thoughts of what to do with Jen if he's gone and fallen for another goddamn bastard son of a bitch are a little more muddied.
He's not sure Jen will let him vet everyone he meets in future.
Or, let him lock him up in a safehouse, where he can keep a damn eye on him.
Truth is, Jen hates to feel handled, or protected, or looked after. And the boy can be a damn stubborn son of a bitch when he wants to.
Chris pulls up outside of the hotel entrance and let's the valet take the car. Squaring his shoulders he goes to the check-in desk to ask what room his boy is in. It is slightly gratifying that the desk-clerk doesn't just give him the room number, that they insist on calling ahead and seeing if Jen is happy to receive him; but Chris still worries if he couldn't have just found out the info with the judicious slipping of a hundred dollar bill.
On the elevator ride up he takes the time to breathe deep and smooth his hair.
Jensen's already got the door open to his suite by the time the elevator doors slide open, and it's two steps before he's wrapped in a tight hug, Jen whispering 'Damn, man! Christ, was not expecting you!' in his ear.
"Yeah, well…" he finds he's at a loss for words now he's here. Jen looks good. Grinning bright and wide, eyes clear, not as scrawny as Chris has seen him sometimes, a little more colour to his cheeks. "Thought it about damn time I check on m'boy!"
"Jesus," Jensen shakes his head. "You make me sound like I'm all of six years old and need someone to hold my damn hand."
"Not here to hold your hand, Jenny-darling. Happily drink your beer though."
"Shit," Jen laughs, and Chris find himself smiling to hear it. "You don't change, do you?"
"Nah," Chris quiets.
"Come in then," Jen grabs his arm, tugs him into the hotel suite. "Got some Molson's if that suits? Jared's gonna drop by later, he'll bring fresh supplies so help yourself, man."
The room is a mess. Books on the floor, a couple pairs of jeans draped over the couch, scattered pages from a script. Three empty mugs are standing on the coffee table and Chris has to bite his lip from laughing.
Jen, bless his heart, has always been a predictable soul, and a Jen that feels comfortable enough to be a complete slob is a happy, contented Jen.
"I see the maid has the day off."
"Fuck you, Chris."
"All you had to do is ask, sweetheart."
"In your dreams, Kane." Jen steps over to the mini-fridge and grabs a couple bottles of beer. "So what the fuck are you doing all the way up here anyway, dude?"
"You not happy to see me, Jen?"
"Didn't say that." Jen flops down onto the couch, and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. "But as spontaneous as you like to pretend you are, you don't normally fly a few hundred miles to see a friend on a whim. You alright?"
"Yeah," he sits himself on the little coffee table so he's facing Jensen. "Yeah, I'm doing alright. How about you? Everything bright and sunny with you?"
"Yeah, it's all cool."
"That's good, man." He nudges Jen's foot with his own. "That's real good."
Jensen shakes his head and leans in close, voice dropping down low, full of Texan warmth and venom. "Do not tell me you came all of the way up here just to check on me?"
"Don't know what you mean, Jenny."
"Bullshit." Jensen slaps a hand down hard onto Chris' thigh. "You little fucker… you did, didn't you? You came all the way up here 'cause you thought I needed a damn rescue. Shit, man! I am not some dumb kid that needs you to watch over me."
"No." Jensen stood, knocking away Chris's hand when it reached for his elbow. "Jesus, you are worse than my mother." He took a long swig of his beer, "You wanna play at being my daddy, Chris? Get the shotgun out for every boy that looks at me twice?"
He'd actually hoped it wouldn't get to this quite so quick. Had hoped Jensen would just be pleased to see him and not question the reason for his unexpected visit. Should have known better.
"Thought about it a time or two," Chris leans back lazily, looking up at Jensen. "Thought about getting a shotgun out last time I saw you in hospital, or you had yourself a black-eye, or you got shitfaced on my couch 'cause some boy had screwed you over." He shrugs, smiling slow and just a little nasty, "So, yeah, thought about spilling some blood."
"And you think…" Jen stalks off, over to the window, glaring out at the city-lights. "You actually think I can't take care of myself, just another punching bag, yeah?"
Bile rises in Chris' throat, and he swallows hard before answering. "Nope, just think you don't act too smart when it comes to boys that smile prettily at you."
Chris waits a beat or two.
Jen's still standing at the window, shoulders a tense, angry line.
"Everybody's got their blindspots. You know you can't pick a decent man out of a lineup- you're bang on with friends, and when it comes to business, but when it comes to a guy to go home to you always pick the shits that'll fuck you, fuck you over, and fuck you up." Chris takes a long sip of beer, there's a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wishes Jen had offered him something stronger so they could do this whilst wasted, the way men did.
"Ain't gonna stop checking up on you. Checking you're okay." Jen still hadn't turned around or answered. With any luck it meant the stubborn little bitch was actually listening to what he had to say. "Just like the next time you see me out of my head on whiskey and party favours I'm gonna expect a lecture from you in the morning along with a bottle of water, a bacon sandwich, and a bottle of aspirin."
"You're gonna kill yourself with that shit, you know?" Jensen hasn't moved at all, but his voice is soft.
"Uh huh, and you're gonna bust yourself up over some boy that don't know how to treat you right, and I'm going to have to pick up the pieces and put you together again. Way it goes."
Jensen pressed his forehead to the glass for a moment before twisting round. "You scare Jared off, and I swear on the bible I'll call up your Momma and tell her all about her son's dissolute life. Might even send her a plane ticket to come visit you."
"And proud of it." Jensen stepped over to the mini-fridge and snagged a couple more bottles of beer.
Chris smiled up at him, "So, how long 'til this Jared of yours arrives and the interrogation can begin? I promise not to push bamboo under his finger nails unless I really don't like him."
Jensen laughed. "Over-protective asshole."
"Yeah," Chris grinned, throwing his arms wide, "But I'm your over-protective asshole."
"Guess you are at that."
"Way it is, Jenny-love, way it is."