Jensen
of Halloween weekend, Jensen promised himself to stay away from situations involving drunk people. Hayley did a number on him and Piper, sobbing about a situationship— whatever that meant—through mouthfuls of cookies, almost choking twice.
However, his luck barely lasted a week when a call from a friend decided to cash in a huge favor he owed. The favor? Being a designated driver for his friend’s bar-hopping birthday through Los Angeles.
That landed Jensen sitting shotgun in a van, cruising through the packed Los Angeles streets with the windows rolled down. Rock music blared from the stereo, booming over the November wind, the surrounding traffic, and the hollering from the Virginia Beach Foxhounds in the backseat.
“Turn right at the next light. We’ll be at the club,” Cal’s voice rumbled from the backseat. Through the rearview mirror, Jensen spied the cheesy cowboy hat with ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ embroidered in blue yarn on black felt. “We can skip the line, too.”
“You’re the best, man!” Mason, one of Cal’s teammates, hooted while recording the passengers of the van on his phone. The flash of his camera brightened the dark interior of the vehicle.
Cal chuckled, tipping his hat, and clicked his tongue for the crowd. The hat sat low on his medium brown hair, casting shadows over his more oblong features. But with enough light, cool green eyes emerged from the dark. “Anything for my team.”
Jensen met Callum Lambert, the Foxhounds' star center fielder, at a charity event some years ago. Five years ago, the Foxhounds were established as the first major league sports team in Virginia; their record proved stellar, as they made the playoffs every year and won one series championship.
The two became good friends after Hidden Oasis provided sponsorship funds to renovate the Foxhounds' Virginia Beach stadium. The Hounds, as Jensen affectionately referred to them, were good people.
“You happy to be back in Los Angeles for the night?" Jensen switched the station when a commercial break interrupted the steady flow of guitar solos and heavy drumming. Gage, another Foxhound, made the right hand turn mentioned by Cal, fighting for space on the crowded road.
“You know, I am. I miss LA, but Virginia Beach is my life now. Visiting the city helps keep the homesickness away. Nowhere does beaches quite like California.” Cal scooted forward, leaning over the center console.
He cut that thought off when he pointed through the windshield. "There it is! Cobalt & Neon. Try to find a spot closest to the club."
"Aye, aye," Gage whistled, guiding them through the hectic flurry of cars. Street parking in Los Angeles was another beast entirely, so Jensen witnessed a borderline miracle with how smoothly Gage slid their van between two gleaming sports cars.
As he climbed out of his passenger side, Jensen spotted bangles made of glowsticks and an ungodly number of chromatic outfits from the line of eager clubgoers.
Lost in thought, Cal almost knocked him over when tossing a casual arm over Jensen’s shoulder. He grinned when several people in the crowd murmured at his arrival. “Thanks for coming out tonight, man. You need some fun before you’re the big boss of your own company.”
"I'm a man of my word." Jensen nudged him with a laugh. "Besides, someone needs to ensure no drunk or disorderly charges are obtained. I remember your last birthday party in Vegas."
“I promise that no one is going to jailbreak a tiger this time,” Cal snorted as the other guys joined them, huddling up on the curb. “Alright, Gage and Jensen are the DDs on standby tonight. Additionally, I’m not date hunting either, so I’m your wingman.”
Mason and the other guys exchanged fist bumps, but Jensen shook his head. Even off-limits, Cal would have women clawing at his arms for attention. Lucky for Jensen, he wasn’t interested in finding someone at the club.
Together, the group of guys swaggered up to the bouncers at the door. One of them glanced at a tablet in his hands, returning to them with a flat stare. “Name?”
“Callum Lambert. I called your boss ahead of time for me and my guys.” Cal’s smile didn’t falter, even when the security guard consulted his VIP list. Quickly, he undid the rope stretched across the doorway.
“Go ahead, gentlemen.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.” Cal clapped his hands together, offering the onlookers a charming smile and wink.
Jensen fell to the back of the group while Cal and the others rushed forward into the darkness. But that was for the tunnel inside. Eventually, every color visible to the human eye illuminated the club's walls. The bass cranked to an almost headache-inducing volume by the technicolor dance floor. Bodies packed on top of the shifting floor, illuminating the silhouettes in the rainbow as they danced. The dance floor and bar occupied polar opposite sides of the room stuffed to the brim with people.
“Drinks first! We need one shot to get the party started!” Mason bellowed over the music, playing some EDM mash-up of pop hits that Jensen vaguely recognized.
“Agreed!” Cal threw his hands into the air as his friends carried him to the bar. Jensen followed behind them, hands tucked into his pockets. He probably stuck out like a sore thumb without all the sparkly attire or glow sticks. But he rocked the dress shirt and the dark pants everywhere.
Cal’s group crowded in an empty space at the bar. As Jensen stepped behind them, he overheard loud whispering from Cal and Gage.
“Do you see her? In the red?” Gage’s voice pitched a little higher than its usual baritone, following the tense line drawn by his pushed-back shoulders.
“The blonde?”
“That’s the one.”
“I can see why you like her. Those legs look a mile long.”
Jensen inserted himself between Cal and Mason, who leaned over the bar for some shots. His eyes scoured the crowd until he landed on a blonde with her back facing them. Red ruched fabric kissed every inch of her body before abruptly stopping before the middle of her thighs in a tight, short skirt.
But while he watched her, Jensen’s head buzzed like he took a couple of shots. Why did she feel familiar?
Before either Cal or Gage said anything, she spun around, revealing none other than Daisy Riggs.
Daisy, wearing the sexiest dress Jensen had ever seen her in, nursed a sparkly cocktail with a quiet frown. Her eyes scanned the dance floor before she hoisted herself onto the nearest stool, stretching out her legs.
"Oh, Jesus," Gage panted, reminding Jensen that he wasn't the only one with his eyes on Daisy. Something hot prickled inside his chest, jamming up against his lungs and stomach. Each breath he took came with a sharp, painful sensation like someone decided to shove needles into his skin. "I'm going to be such an idiot talking to her."
“No way, man!” Mason shook his head. A tray of neon green shots sloshed in his hands when he stood up too fast from leaning against the bar's counter. "You're a catch, and girls dig athletes! You don't have to work too hard for it!"
“Don’t listen to Mason. He’s chronically single. You want me to hype you up?” Cal slapped Gage’s chest while Mason scowled.
“I’ll get you back for that one, Lambert.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“You two can finish your pissing contest later,” Gage interrupted. But Jensen almost opened his mouth to suggest otherwise. Let them get distracted, squabbling amongst each other instead of eye fucking Daisy from across the bar. “I’ll talk to her, but I need a good opener.”
Mason clapped his hands. “Atta boy! Alright, how about-?”
The Foxhounds huddled up again, forgetting about Jensen while they brainstormed Gage’s plan of attack. However, with their attention off Daisy, Jensen broke from the group.
He strode past the stares of strangers until he reached Daisy, still lounging at the bar with her crisp white Louboutins and her fucking scarlet dress like sin personified. He leaned a hand against the edge of the bar. “Starting to think I can’t let you out of my sight.”
Daisy’s eyes jolted away from the dance floor, but they softened when seeing him standing there. She laughed, head rolling back. “I can never get a break from you, can I?”
“Nope,” Jensen grinned. “You’re stuck with me for another month until one of us gets promoted.”
“One month too long. Anyways, what are you doing here? Clubbing doesn’t seem like your thing.”
“Oh, and why’s that?”
“You have the personality of a wet noodle. You look like you just came from the office with that outfit. Oh, and you’ve mentioned how you’re not one for clubbing.”
Jensen sighed. “You could’ve started with that instead of insulting me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Daisy smirked while she brought the straw of her drink against those sultry red lips, sipping slowly. “You and I aren’t us without a few insults thrown at one another.”
“Clubbing isn’t my thing, but I owed a favor to my friend, Cal, who brought all his teammates to celebrate his birthday. One of them thinks you’re hot, by the way.” Jensen coughed. He felt the eyes of Cal and his friends piercing holes into his back without even looking at them.
“Oh? Which one?” Daisy’s brow arched, somehow treading the line between amused, elegant, and shocked.
Jensen pointed over his shoulder. “Tall, black curls, and the bomber jacket.”
Daisy peered around him at the guys, giving a slightly flirty wave to them. Or at least, the soft wiggling of her fingers screamed flirty to Jensen.
When she leaned back, Daisy laughed, "He's a cutie but not my type. I don't go out with athletes."
“Dare I ask what your type is, then?” Jensen asked, unable to stop himself. His face heated when Daisy caught his eyes before he could avert his gaze, and he was stuck without the alcohol excuse to save him.
“That’s confidential.” Daisy’s lips twitched. Yet her eyes flicked over him with confidence, like when she negotiated with contractors on muted phone conversations that Jensen watched from his office. "Maybe I'll spill with a little incentive."
“How about we start with something easier then? What brings you here tonight? I didn't peg you as the clubbing type either."
“I’m not. But one of my friends, Giselle, is celebrating her engagement. She and her fiancé were surprised by some of their college friends with an impromptu outing.”
"So, you're here as a favor, too?"
“Yes. Giselle is normally more introverted, so I worried the club might be too much for her. But she took a shot of Pink Whitney and should be with Jude in the crowd. Maybe they're dancing or making out in some dark corner, but they're celebrating."
Jensen’s eyes dropped to the glass in her hand, sporting something ridiculously blue and glowing under the light. “What number are you on?”
“One. My one and only for the night,” Daisy promised, holding her glass out to him. Jensen shook his head, knowing better than to let himself try whatever heinous concoction someone cooked up behind the bar. He might start tasting colors.
"I'm taking all drinking easy after last time."
“Smart choice.”
“Not that this conversation isn’t enthralling, but it looks like your friends are coming over.”
Jensen almost did a double take when seeing Cal and the others striding toward them, all curiously glancing between him and Daisy. Jensen stepped around to stand at her side, facing them.
“Gentlemen, this is Daisy. She and I work together," Jensen remarked as Cal's mouth opened to say something. The guys immediately shifted their posture.
“Oh! Nice to meet you,” Cal chuckled, grasping Daisy’s hand to shake. “We didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.”
“It’s alright. I had been pestering Jensen for a dance,” Daisy lied between sips of her drink, batting her lashes to sell it.
Jensen gripped onto his poker face for dear life as a nervous chuckle escaped him. “I told her that I have two left feet, but she’s very persuasive.”
“It’s wrong to deny a dance from a beautiful woman,” Mason remarked, stone-faced. Even Gage, who had been debating the best method to score Daisy's affection mere minutes before, nodded solemnly. "If you don't, one of us will take her to the floor."
“I hear you, loud and clear.” Jensen snaked an arm around Daisy’s waist as she slid from the stool. She rested her hands on his shoulder and nudged him with her hip, prompting a quiet stutter from Jensen. “Be right back.”
He guided Daisy into the throng of bodies—grinding and rocking to the beat of a slower song—as the lights dimmed. The dance floor switched to a deep magenta pink, illuminating the shadows with a seductive undertone.
Once they vanished far enough from the eyes of the Foxhounds, Jensen’s arm around Daisy’s waist became two hands gripping her hips. He pulled her close, bringing her chest-to-chest to a gasp.
"If you wanted to get me alone, there are easier ways," Jensen murmured into her ear as they began to sway to the music. Their bodies melded together, pushed closer by the people surrounding them, lost in the rhythm.
“Maybe,” Daisy panted, running her hands along his spine to shivers. “But I saved us both the trouble of letting your friend flirt with me and the awkward denial I planned.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to that.”
“I noticed.”
Daisy grinding up against him sent Jensen’s mind into a tizzy, spinning to the thumping bass while searching for her eyes in the dark. He found whiskey irises drinking him in while the magenta of the floor deepened, painting her features in its shade of desire.
"Keep looking at me like that, and we might start making out on the dance floor," Daisy whispered, but she inched closer.
“You say that like you’re not pushing me into you with your hands on my back,” Jensen murmured, feeling the run of his tongue over his lower lip. Daisy’s eyes followed its movements, which was all the confirmation Jensen needed.
But as he went to lean in, the sudden flash of copper curls and a giant, albeit drunken smile right next to them preceded an excited shout of “Daisy!”
Daisy scrambled backward while Jensen witnessed everything happen in slow motion. The jostle backward knocked Daisy off-kilter, and when she tried to right herself, one of her legs twisted hard.
She slipped with a cry, but Jensen didn’t stand around. His arms shot out and caught Daisy by the waist, holding her off the ground. He looked down, seeing the frantic rising of her chest in shallow breaths.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I should be,” Daisy stammered but struggled to stand up. Jensen’s hands stayed close when righting her, but his eyes landed on the way she hovered her left leg off the floor. “I think I messed up my ankle.”
“Daisy, I’m so sorry!” The girl hiccupped, covering her mouth. The poor thing looked devastated, swaying a little drunkenly and wearing a sparkly sash with ‘Just Engaged’ on it. That must be Giselle. “Thank goodness for. . . Jensen?”
"Uh, hello." Jensen cleared his throat, aware of the shocked stare from Giselle.
"I don't believe we've officially met."
“Giselle, it’s not your fault. I made a bad footwear choice for the club. And yes, this is Jensen. Jensen, this is Giselle.”
"Congrats on your engagement." Jensen went to offer Giselle a hand to shake but stopped when he remembered his arms remained the one thing between Daisy and the ground.
“Thank you.” Giselle chewed her lip, and her eyes darted to Daisy. Unlike Daisy, who has a refined poker face, poor Giselle wore everything on her tipsy sleeve. “You should get that checked out.”
"I will," Daisy promised.
Jensen nodded. “She will. I’ll take her right now since she’s in no shape to be driving. I can stay with her at urgent care.”
Giselle glanced into the crowd as a tall guy strode toward them with a fiercely stoic look. Ah, the fiancé. She reached for him, prompting a rumbling voice out of Jude. “What’s going on?”
“Daisy slipped. Her coworker is taking her to the hospital. ” Giselle turned from Jude to Jensen in a split second, pleading with her eyes. “Take care of her?” Her lip trembled, and the guilty doe eyes she flashed almost made Jensen feel bad.
“I’ve got her. Try to enjoy the rest of your night,” Jensen remarked. He leaned into Daisy. With a hand under her thighs, he scooped her into his arms. Well, at least urgent care would be quiet.
“On the count of three, I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Jensen opened the passenger side door of Daisy’s car, greeted by the exhausted flutter of Daisy's eyes. After three hours spent at urgent care and one diagnosis of a sprained ankle later, Jensen expected Daisy to fall asleep sooner. "One. . . two. . . three.”
Jensen scooped her from her seat, careful with her head and the top of the door. Daisy clung to him, her arms wound around his shoulders and her non-injured leg wrapping around his waist.
“Mmph," Daisy mumbled into his shoulder. Jensen stopped by the hospital gift shop while waiting for the doctor, purchasing an oversized sweater to swap with her dress and some make-up wipes. "Sorry if I’m heavy.”
“Daisy, I could carry you all day. I do lift sometimes,” Jensen murmured, leaning down to grab the crutches off the floor. He had already stuffed her phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket.
No response from Daisy, but the slight tightening of her arms around his shoulders told Jensen she heard him.
With a light kick, Jensen shut the door to Daisy’s car before heading into the apartment building. He marched across the threshold with Daisy in his arms, dragging the crutches along the carpet.
Jensen tipped his head to the doorman, whose agape mouth and startled eyes almost made him laugh. “Evening.”
“Good evening, sir.”
“You know which floor is mine, right?”
Jensen glanced at Daisy in his arms, humming, “Yes. I know what floor your apartment is. We’ll take an elevator up.”
“Good call.” Daisy yawned while Jensen strode toward the elevator. “I can’t believe I sprained my ankle. This is why I avoid wearing heels taller than two inches.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Jensen promised. He tapped the button for the elevator a couple of times, watching it glow bright orange. The doors opened, revealing a semi-packed carriage of people.
They all gawked as Jensen stepped onto the elevator with Daisy and her crutches balanced in his grip. He tapped the fourth floor with his elbow before pushing Daisy higher into his arms.
A quiet hiss buried into his shoulders brought his attention to her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, accidentally grazed someone. My ankle hurts,” Daisy whispered while the elevator doors closed.
The elevator reached the first stop on the second floor, causing a flood of people to rush to the front. Jensen narrowly dodged a few collisions from the careless strangers itching to get off the elevator.
Jensen backed him and Daisy into the corner of the less full elevator, watching the doors close. The elevator's ascent was short-lived, stopping on the third floor for another person. He kept himself calm with a quiet count under his breath.
One more floor. Only one more floor.
Once the elevator doors closed, its ascent crawled up to the fourth floor. Jensen beelined out of there with Daisy. The rattle of the crutches echoed off the ground, muffled in the carpeting as Jensen marched down the hallway.
He knew Daisy’s apartment number from the last time he visited, staying long enough to remember the deep cerulean carpeting and the perfectly white walls lined with warm wooden doors and golden brass knockers. However, the inside of her apartment existed as a vague blur in his memories.
He remembered the matching purple set she wore to the door when greeting him, though. He still needed to replace it for her after he got eager with his hands.
Jensen leaned the crutches up against the wall when outside Daisy’s door, using his newly freed hand to rifle around his pockets. He found her keys and let them into her apartment, taking it all in.
White walls to match the exterior sported a few rogue paintings to throw the room together, all soft grays and tans. The apartment didn't have much life beyond the woman who lived there, a copy and paste of the units around it.
Jensen set her down on the couch, propping her ankle up. “Let me grab your crutches and some ice. The doctor suggested icing it for a little while.”
“I don’t want to,” Daisy groaned, slumping back into her throw pillows shoved to one side of the long loveseat. “Do we have to?”
“At least give me five minutes instead of twenty?”
“Fine. Five minutes only.”
Jensen jogged back to the door, gathering Daisy’s crutches and the deadbolt lock. He set the crutches against the kitchen counter and swapped them for a bag of frozen veggies in the freezer. Those would work.
He yanked a dish towel from the stove, wrapping up the frozen bag in the cloth, and knelt down at Daisy’s feet. Careful not to harm her more, Jensen lifted her ankle and slid the ice underneath.
Daisy’s face screwed up when her bare skin met the wrapped ice pack. She squirmed a little, but Jensen held her ankle still. “Shit, this sucks.”
“Yeah, you’re going to be out of commission for a while,” Jensen murmured, rubbing a feather-light touch over her ankle. He hovered over the skin, too worried to even touch. “How are you feeling otherwise?”
“Tired. So tired.”
"I bet. I'll get you to bed. Then, I'll crash on the couch. Do you have some extra pillows or a blanket I could borrow?
“Jensen, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Right, but you shouldn’t worry about locking up behind me. That would be counterproductive to me helping you to bed.”
Daisy sat up, scowling at him. But the harshness of her expression faltered around her eyes. She sighed, “I’m saying that the couch won’t be comfortable for you. My bed is big enough for two people.”
“Oh.” Jensen’s throat dried while confronted with Daisy’s quiet stare, head cocked to the side and brows knit—from pain, expectation, or both. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that? We’ve never done that.”
"Jensen, sleeping in the same bed as me for one night isn't a big deal. You've seen me naked more times than I can count and have done things to my body that would scandalize our entire workplace,” Daisy deadpanned.
“Fair point. Any chance you have something I can wear for sleep?” Jensen asked.
“You want to borrow the red lace number?” Daisy’s lips twitched, fighting off an evil smirk from how fast Jensen’s nose scrunched up.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I have some leftover clothes of yours in my bathroom drawer. Now, let’s put the ice away so I can sleep.”
Jensen lifted the ice from Daisy’s reddened skin, which was cold to the touch even with the insulation of the dishcloth. He moved between the kitchen and the couch, tidying up along the way.
Daisy’s arms held out for him when he returned, prepared as Jensen scooped her off the couch. The two limped into the bedroom. Much like the living room, there was little personality on display with pre-arranged furniture.
But if Daisy liked it, Jensen would keep his thoughts to himself.
He brought them to the bathroom, where he seated Daisy on the closed toilet and passed her a toothbrush. Before he could ask for a spare brush or some clothes, she pointed to the bottom drawer of the sink.
Jensen opened the drawer and found spare toiletries like deodorant, a toothbrush, and soap, alongside a pair of his sweatpants and his favorite gray henley shirt. So that’s where it went.
Daisy leaned over to brush her teeth, flashing Jensen a quiet thumbs-up. “I’m not completely useless. Look at that.”
Jensen didn't reply, midway through stripping off his club clothes. Somehow, he failed to notice the tiny specks of glitter from Cobalt & Neon stuck to him, feeling ages ago instead of a few measly hours. He should probably text Cal in the morning and promise to repay the favor another time.
He tossed his clothes into the laundry basket resting against the nearby wall, sinking into the comfort of the sweatpants. Soon, the bathroom filled with the quiet scraping of the toothbrushes and the gargling of mouthwash.
Neither he nor Daisy said a single word while they hobbled back to the bedroom, lights still off beyond the moonlight filtering through the window. Jensen set her into bed first, easing Daisy to lay on her side.
As he pulled the duvet over her, he sighed, “So, for the next few weeks, the doctor said that you can’t put too much pressure on your foot. That includes driving.”
“I remember. I’ll call a car for the mornings and evenings. There are plenty around,” Daisy mumbled through a heavy yawn, struggling to keep her eyes open.
Jensen stepped back toward the window, drawing the curtains shut. In the dark, he felt for the edge of Daisy’s bed while heading to the other side.
“Yeah, that’s not feasible,” he remarked when finding the open spot across from her. Jensen climbed into the bed, ignoring his stomach drop harder than the mattress dipping under his added weight. “I’ll come get you every morning and take you home. It’ll save money.”
“Jensen, I don’t need—”
"Yeah, we're not debating about this. You do need help, and it's okay to ask for help. No one will think less of you if you do."
“That’s not what this is about!”
Daisy’s voice huffed indignantly in the dark, but Jensen wouldn't back down no matter how hard she protested. Not tonight.
"Maybe so. But I'm going to help you, Daisy. Let me be helpful," Jensen murmured in the dark, rustling deeper into her duvet. Warmth inched up his legs with a slow, welcoming weight pressing down on him.
There was silence for a while after Jensen spoke. He waited for a response from Daisy, torn between calling her name and letting her drift off to sleep. But, as he went to close his eyes, noise from her side of the bed startled him.
"You need to say something mean to me," said Daisy.
“And why’s that?”
“You being so nice without a snarky comment is throwing me off.”
Jensen blinked, thrown for a loop. Daisy knew how to keep him on his toes. "Alright, then. Goodnight, asshole."
"You too, asshole," Daisy murmured, not missing a beat of their favorite sign-off for their texts.
“No, you’re supposed to call me something else. It always starts with goodnight asshole from you and a sarcastic ‘Your Highness’ from me.” Jensen clutched his pillow tighter under his head.
From somewhere in the darkness, Daisy giggled while burrowing in her spot. “If you say so, Princess.”
“I hate you.”
“Good. It’ll help when I’m your boss in a month.”
"Yeah, right."