Chapter Text
~~The Mathematician and the Agent ~~
By tcs1121
~~*~~*~~
Summary: Dr. Jensen Ackles was a brilliant mathematics professor and proud of his self-identified superpowers: He could detect unknown truths and ferret out deception in others. In other words, he knew when people were lying.
This made him a valued resource to the FBI when they needed help cracking difficult cases. Jensen was glad to help, as long as they realized his superpowers came with a caveat.
Special Agent Jared Padalecki was a respected agent and gifted FBI profiler, currently leading a team tracking a serial killer. When his boss, SAC Jeff Morgan, decided to call upon an odd mathematician for help, Jared was skeptical as to how a college professor could be of any assistance. However, the agent soon became intrigued by the mathematician, and learned to value Jensen for his instincts, insights, and superpowers.
~~*~~*~~
~~*~~*~~
Jensen rubbed his left ear, happily concentrating on the complex algebraic structures in front of him. Theoretical Mathematics was his passion and his profession. Numbers were his saviors and his friends. He was a bona fide genius with an IQ of 142, one of the youngest full professors at Regency University, and head of the prestigious Regency University Mathematics Lab.
He was brilliant, intuitive, and autistic.
There was a knock on his office door. "Are you available, Jensen?"
Jim had accidentally frightened him once when he came upon him too quietly, now he always let Jensen know when he approached.
Jensen adjusted the volume on his hearing-aid. "Come in, Jim."
"Afternoon, Jensen. Got a minute?"
Professor Jim Beaver was the head of the Applied Mathematics department at Regency University. He had hired Jensen and given him the Lab to run after Jensen obtained his doctorate here. Since then, they had become more than friends. Almost like family—although Jensen, himself, had no definition for his and Jim's relationship.
"It is technically early evening, and not afternoon anymore. However, I always have time for the head of the department." Jensen put down his reading glasses. "Otherwise, I could get fired."
Jim smiled and sat in the chair across from his desk. "I would never fire you."
"You should not fire me. I am very important to this department as I teach both undergraduate and post-graduate advanced mathematics, as well as oversee the Mathematics Lab."
"You do all that, indeed." Jim leaned in and spoke carefully. "Since it's after-hours, why aren’t you home?"
Jensen tilted his head to the right and gazed at the far wall. "It is a good thing I am conscientious and not at home, otherwise you would be sitting in my empty office right now."
"You know I can never tell when you're kidding."
"I am not kidding."
"Of course you're not," Jim chuckled. "So, I got a call from Jeff Morgan at the FBI. I believe you know him?"
"Yes." Jensen tapped his fingers on his thighs. "He was the Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge on the last case I helped them with. He's smart, handsome, and always nice to me."
"Everyone should always be nice to you," Jim said.
Jensen saw an emotion cross Jim's face. Usually, he would ask which emotion Jim was feeling, but, apparently, there was business to attend to. Also, Jim sometimes got emotional around him for no reason Jensen could fathom.
"Anyway," Jim continued, "the feds know about your special skills, and would like your help with another case. Are you up for demonstrating your superpowers again?"
"Didn't I just finish a case with them?" Jensen flipped through his desk calendar.
"That was almost nine months ago. Right now, they're at a crossroads and could use your input."
"Why do they always call you? If they have a task for me, shouldn't they be calling me? Sheesh."
"You never answer your phone."
"Wrong. Because it is difficult for me to hear on the telephone, I," Jensen put his fingers up and made air quotes, "seldom" answer my phone."
"Welp, because you seldom answer your phone, they called me. I always answer mine."
"Tomato, tomato," Jensen grumbled.
Dr. Beaver laughed at Jensen's attempt at a snappy comeback. Jensen smirked. He knew Jim wasn't being cruel. Jim was never cruel.
"Did they give you any details?" Jensen pulled out a yellow note pad.
"Very few. They're investigating a serial murder. They think they have the right perpetrator, but something about him makes them iffy on him. Before they put more resources into this suspect, they'd like you to talk to him. See if the guy's lying or not. You'll get a generous per diem, and all travel and lodging expenses paid."
"If you can give me the time off, I'll be happy to do it. It never takes me long. Besides," Jensen gave a coy smile, "I get to show off."
"I know, and you're such a good sport about it, too. So humble."
Jensen cocked his head to the left. "You know, I can never tell when you're kidding."
"Of course not," Jim teased. "Spring break is next week. Is that how you want to spend it?"
"Yes," Jensen nodded. "Bring it on."
"If it takes longer, I can swing it for you," Jim said, smiling.
Jensen knew to mimic Jim's smile back at him, even if he did not always understand the reason for the smiling. However, Jensen knew that smiling made people comfortable, and it made Jim happy. He smiled at Jim.
"I'll get the particulars and clear your schedule for the week after spring break, just in case." Jim patted his shoulder once. "Jensen, I think you're a…you're a…"
"I'm a what?" Jensen raised the volume on his earpiece. Sometimes Jim mumbled nice things to him, and Jensen didn't want to miss them.
"A wonder, Jensen. You're a wonder. I know it's not always easy for you to meet new people, and I'm proud of you for doing this, son." He patted Jensen's shoulder again.
Jensen blinked several times and swallowed the lump in his throat. Sometimes that happened when Jim called him son. "Thank you, Jim."
"Oh," Jim stood. "You’re flying out early Sunday morning. Red-eye early." He rushed out of Jensen’s office.
Dammit. He knows I hate early air travel.
Jensen sighed. Oh well. He accepted that he was uniquely qualified to work this job with the Feds. He also knew he could refuse, and neither Jim, nor the FBI, would hold it against him. Nonetheless, Jensen felt he should use his superpowers for good, because with great genius, came great responsibility.
~~*~~*~~
"What's it 'bout numbers you like so much, Jenny?"
Jensen looked up from his math book and momentarily stared his sister in the eye before looking at the wall behind her. "Math is truth. It's constant, and you c'n always rely on it. It never, ever lies to ya. Don't call me Jenny."
"You're such a dweeb, little bro'. No wonder you on'y got me for a friend." Penny snorted and ruffled his hair.
Jensen shook her hand off. "I have friends. Well, friend. I have a friend. Don' touch my hair."
"Sorry. I forgot."
Jensen shouldn't complain. Penny loved him, and always tried to make the world nice for him. Even so, he fixed his hair back the way it was.
"Oh, c'mon, Jens, I'm only playin' with ya. You know I love ya, even with your numbers thing, an your finger-tappin' thing. Hey, me and the girls are going bowlin' tonight. They love your cute little self. Why donch'a come with?"
Jensen stared down at the equations he was writing.
"No thanks.You may love me, but your friends don'. They think I'm a freak. I'd rather stay home with my friends." He indicated the outdated college textbook and a couple of well-read comic books.
Penny took a step closer, staying to his right side so he could hear her. "Daddy Carl's long haul is done. He's gettin' home tonight. Whyn't you come out with us, yeah?"
Jensen's heartbeat kicked up. He took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, unconsciously rubbing his left ear. After a moment, he shut the book and hid it under his ratty mattress.
"Yeah, okay." Jensen's hands shook as he got his sweater. "Okay, yeah."
Penny pressed down on his shoulder and squeezed. She knew that helped calm him down.
"Stay close to me tonight. You can bring your comics if you want. We'll bowl and eat chili fries. I'm buyin'. If'n anybody calls you out, I'll bitch slap 'em. See if I don't!" She smiled. "I'll get us home late, after daddy crashes for the night."
"Thanks, Pen. Thanks."
"Anytime. An' my girls do think you're cute. Well, some of 'em. Some of 'em think I'm cute! But, boy, Big Sheila would love to take you under her wing. Too bad you're into boys."
Jensen shuddered but took a step closer to her. "Boys an' girls. But not, uh, Big Sheila."
"Yeah, she's too much woman, even for me!" She patted his head and took him by the hand like a little kid. "I do love ya, kid. Any way you are is okay by me."
It should have bothered him when she held his hand, but Penny took her job as big sister seriously. Especially now that she was old enough, and big enough, to get in between Jensen and step-Daddy Carl.
~~*~~*~~
Packed and ready, Jensen tucked himself into his first-class seat. First-class made flying marginally better. Even though his hearing was poor, he could still hear with his right ear. Especially when his hearing-aid was volumed just right.
He loved listening to music, but, since he didn't want to associate his favorite songs with the trauma of take-off, he used noise cancelling headphones instead.
He'd tried just removing the hearing-aid, but because he could still hear, his fear of catching screams of terror had him investing in a top-notch set of Bose headphones.
He read his itinerary and found that Special Agent Jared Padalecki would be meeting him at the airport. Jensen went through all his exercises to tamp down his neurodivergent behaviors and spoke softly to himself to rid himself of his rapid and clipped way of speaking. Sometimes people mistook him for being mentally challenged when, in fact, he was a genius.
As a genius, he knew it was important for the people working with him to be able to relate to him. Hence, the exercises. Fortunately, once they got to know him, he could forgo many of these superficial behaviors.
Sometimes Jensen wished people knew how difficult it was for him to speak slowly, keep his hands and feet still, and look them in the eye.
The jet streamed down the runway and up into the dark Sunday morning. Jensen lay back and closed his eyes, visualizing:
Leonhard Euler's most elegant equation. Euler's Identity always fascinated and calmed him.
~~*~~*
"Why you like that, Jen-sen? I din’t raise you to be like ‘at."
Daddy Carl dropped the empty Wild Turkey whiskey bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He shambled over to where a very young Jensen was reading a college math book.
"Gimme that."
Jensen jumped up and put the book behind his back. "Why? Why, Daddy Carl?"
"You gotta be a man. A man! Youse always reading girly shit comic books and looking girly as shit. Put 'at away and be a man."
"You're not making sense." Jensen knew his stepfather would burn his books, and he'd just found this one at a school sale. "Look, look, it's not a comic book, daddy. It is a math book, see. Math is science."
"Math is science," his step-dad sing-songed. Daddy Carl swayed on his feet and lumbered right up to Jensen.
"Your momma gave you a girly name, too. I don't know why she did 'at."
"Yes, you do, Daddy Carl. Yes, you do. She gave me her maiden name. You know that Jensen is her maiden name."
Quick as a flash, his right fist came up and boxed Jensen's left ear. Boom! Boom!
"Don't sass me, boy."
The pain brought Jensen to his knees. "What you want from, from, from me? What do you want me to do, to do, to do?"
"Be normal! Look at me for one thing, you moron. Youse always looking over my head or at my shoulder. Why the goddam hell can't you look me in the goddamn eyes?"
Jensen's fingers began tapping. He knew to put his hands behind his back and tap his fingers out of sight.
"I can. I can. I will." Jensen stared into Daddy Carl's steel blue eyes and forced them to focus until his own eyes teared up. "I will try. I will. I'll practice. Every day, daddy. Days are twenty-four hours long and a little bit more, thas where the leap year comes in, but I'll work most of the day—most of them twenty-four other hours, 'cept I gotta sleep…"
Carl's fists came down hard on his head and upper back.
Jensen's arms came up to protect himself. "Stop, daddy. You're hurtin' me."
He used the back of his hand to slap Jensen's face. "You're useless. You're a runt with big girly eyes and little tappy fingers. What the hell is wrong with you, tappy boy?"
"Wrong? I'm wrong?" Jensen's voice was weak, and his nose was bleeding. "Why am I wrong?"
Daddy Carl leaned in. His whiskey breath made Jensen gag and turn his head away.
"Look at me, dumbass. You dumb joke of a stepson." Carl's fetid breath blew into Jensen's face. "You don't matter. An' your books don't matter. Nuthin' bout you matters to nobody."
Jensen took a step backwards, fingers madly tapping together, eyes blinking at the wall behind his stepfather.
Carl's calloused fingers closed around Jensen's chin, forcing his head up. All the air left Jensen's lungs and he was trapped. All his carefully crafted control flew away and he couldn't hold on. A high-pitched scream wailed out from deep within his soul.
"Shut up, you idiot! Shut the fuck up." Carl's other hand, the one not holding Jensen's chin, came up and punched the left side of Jensen's head. Punching and slapping until blood seeped from his ear.
"Why you can't be normal? Why you gotta be a sideshow freak?"
Jensen's mother and sister ran into the room, but Carl was on a roll. Jensen's ears and face took the brunt of Carl's wrath. Daddy Carl's fist came down hard, breaking Jensen's nose.
"Carl, leave the boy alone," Jensen's mother pleaded.
"Daddy Carl, stop. Stop." Little Penny shouted.
"Useless wimp." Slap.
Jensen stopped wailing and concentrated on taking one breath after another. Sound was muffled on the right and absent on the left. Blood dripped from his nose. He looked past his family and into the bright, white light where he often went when this world got too tough. In the light were numbers, equations, superheroes, and kind faces. A place where he mattered. It was happy and warm here. All else faded away, and here Jensen stayed for as long as he could.
~~*~~*~~
Jensen shook himself awake.
He pulled off his headphones and took several deep breaths.
His fingers tapped against the armrest, and he whispered to himself, "You'd think I'd be over it by now."
He took another breath and scratched his silent left ear.
I am not that poor, scared, weird kid anymore. I have a Ph.D. after my name. The FBI wants me to work with them. I matter now.
He looked out the window and into the darkness at 30,000 feet.
Dead. He's dead. He can't hurt me. He can't hurt Penny. He can't hurt m-momma.
He tapped his heels and his fingers but shielded them in case the person seated next to him woke up.
Can't hurt momma. Momma's dead. Momma's dead, too. Can't hurt me. Can't hurt me…
Jensen made a fist and brought it to his mouth, stifling the desperate howl that threatened to escape. Because of his poor hearing, he couldn't tell how loud he was. He didn't want the passengers complaining about that weird guy in 3A.
He leaned his head on the window and held in a sob.
Daddy Carl died of a bad liver, and momma died, too. He can't hurt you, and momma can't let him hurt you no more.
Jensen sniffed and clasped his hands tight to keep his fingers still.
"Any more," he whispered aloud. "They cannot hurt you anymore."
He calmed and settled. Taking stock of himself and centering his mind, Jensen looked at the travelers who were either sleeping, watching movies, or reading off their tablets.
He closed his eyes, inhaled, held it for several counts, then let it out slowly.
His parents were gone, but Penny was alive. She made a living driving Carl's big rig, and always kept in touch, sending him little gifts from around the country.
Penny loved him unconditionally, and he loved her to the moon and back.
If Penny loves me, I do matter.
~~*~~*~~
The jet began its descent. Seatbelts were fastened, seat backs were in their upright position, tray tables were up and secured, and all electronic devices were properly stowed.
Don't put your phone in the seat pocket, don't put your phone in the seat pocket. You could forget your phone if you put it in the seat pocket.
Jensen's mantras helped with his nerves, taking his mind off the fact that most aircraft incidents happened during takeoff and landing.
When you land, take the phone out of airplane mode. Find the baggage carousel for this flight. Baggage carousel is on the ground floor. Ground floor. Look for Special Agent Jared Padalecki at the baggage carousel.
Jensen took in a lungful of air.
Don't think about the past. Don't believe the false stories in your head. Stay in the present. Stay in control. You have nothing to prove. You are good the way you are.
Taking this time to actively review his emotions, he started over, revised his thinking, and acted as though his inner tantrum had never happened.
Maybe that wasn't the healthiest way to handle it, but it worked for him.
Jensen scoffed at himself. It was the air travel, that's all. Flying threw off his morning rituals. He was in control now.
He wiped his eyes and allowed himself one last thought:
So much effort…I put so much effort into just living around neurotypical people every day.
It was worth it in the long run. He was Jensen Ackles, Ph.D. Professor and head of the Mathematics Lab at Regency University, teaching Theoretical Mathematics. Occasionally, he was asked to consult with law enforcement, including the FBI because of his special talents. He was a valued colleague at work, he had real friends, understanding friends, and a sister who loved him.
All the effort he put into living must have paid off, because, well, here he was.
"So, what about this guy we're flying out here?"
Agent Padalecki of the local field office loaded his coffee with sugar and creamer. It didn't make the coffee taste better, but he put in the effort for the caffeine payoff.
SAC Morgan pitched his empty coffee cup. "I've worked with Jensen before and he's a genius at scoping out the truth."
"We know the truth, Jeff."
"Do we? Jared, we need to be sure we have the right suspect, or we're wasting valuable time. This guy has murdered four people that we know of. This needs to get locked down tight, and we've got to be right."
"For Christ's sake, Jeff. We've got the goods on Richard Speight. We've got talented people right here trained for this, so why do we need this, what…?" Jared looked through the file, "theoretical mathematician, to come in and tell us what to do?"
"Yes, he's a math professor, but he's not going to be telling you what to do."
"Why do we need him, then? What's he going to do that we haven't already done?"
Jeff stood silently until Jared looked up at him. "Speight hasn't confessed, we have no witnesses, and none of his victims are alive. We need his confession to make our case air-tight, and he won't give it. We can't be wrong about Speight being the perp or more people will die."
"We're not wrong."
"Do you want to bet more lives on that, agent?"
"Do you think this guy can make him confess?" Jared was skeptical, and a tad worried about Jeff.
"No. But he'll know if Speight is lying when he says he didn't do it."
"Shit, Jeff, I already know he's lying."
"No, you suspect he's lying. Jensen Ackles will know."
Jared shook his head. "Nobody can know."
"Jensen can. He's got a knack for it—a gift."
"What kind of gift? Is he psychic?" Jared made jazz hands.
"Can the attitude, Padalecki. Ackles is a paid consultant for the FBI and has assisted us on several cases. Been right every time."
"Then what? What gives him this ability?"
"He's…" Jeff paced around the room. "Jensen is intuitive. Profoundly, almost preternaturally so. I have seen him suss out liars at first glance. He's good and he's right. He's also on the autism spectrum."
Jeff stopped pacing. "He would want you to know that before meeting him. Plus, he's partially deaf."
Jared slapped the file down. "Let me get this straight. You want me to go to the airport, pick up a genius mathematician who is autistic and deaf, so that he can magically tell if a perpetrator, whom we already believe committed four murders and have in custody, is lying about his crimes?"
"Yeah," Jeff smiled. "You got it in one."
"That's nuts."
"Perhaps."
Jeff sighed. "Look, I know it's unorthodox, I know he's unorthodox, but that's what I want you do to. If Dr. Ackles says Speight is lying—which would mean Richard is guilty—then we put all our effort into convicting him. If not, we might need to change course before more bodies show up."
"Okay, okay." Jared let out a huge breath. "It seems you have a tremendous amount of faith in this guy's ability."
"I do. But Ackles' won't have the last word. He's a resource, that's all."
"Anything else I should know?"
Jeff looked sheepish. "I've worked with him a couple of times, and he's an acquired taste. He's nice, though. I like him. He's refreshingly honest."
"Well, if the acquired taste part is because of the autism, my cousin, Marie, is severely autistic. I grew up with her. She's special, but I love her. That part won't bother me."
"It's not the autism I'm warning you about." Morgan chuckled, "Or maybe it is, I don't know."
He shook his head and walked out of Jared's office.
Jared was puzzled by Jeff using the word "warning." Anyway, this professor's plane would be landing shortly, so Jared checked the flight times, retrieved his files, and drove to the airport to collect this mathematics genius for God only knew why.
At the baggage carousel, Jensen saw an obvious FBI agent walking toward him. A tall, gorgeous FBI agent.
That made Jensen a happy man. Although he would never object to a petite blonde sharing his bed, tall, dark, and handsome men were equally welcomed.
And, damn, this one was a scorcher.
The agent smiled, stood in front at arm's length, and addressed him in slow, precise speech.
"Doctor Ackles? I'm Agent Padalecki from the local FBI office."
Jensen smirked. "So, Jeff Morgan filled you in about me. That was a nice gentle intro. Friendly but not jarring. Words clear and separate. No touching. Good job. And, my goodness, you are hot. I mean, hot like hell on legs."
Jared turned a cute shade of red. "Sir?"
Jensen rolled his eyes. "I guess Jeff didn't fully inform you about me. Don't worry, I am harmless, but I say what I mean."
He looked appreciatively up and down Jared's body until his eyes reached high enough to look into Jared's eyes. He blinked several times, trying to hold his gaze before looking at the baggage carousel behind Jared's shoulder.
"Don't worry about looking me in the eye, Dr. Ackles. My cousin is on the autism spectrum too, and I know how difficult that can be for you."
Jensen silently counted the suitcases as they passed by.
"Is that why they chose you to work with me? Because of your cousin?" Jensen tried and failed to keep his fingers from tapping the tips of his thumb.
"No, sir. They chose you to work with me because this is my case, and I want to put it to bed without any possibility of a screw up. I understand you can help."
"Yes, I can. Yes, I will. I am sorry if I sounded rude and inappropriate, but, frankly, I am rude and inappropriate." He looked at Jared's chin and smiled broadly.
Agent Padalecki chuckled.
That was a nice sound.
Jensen continued, "I will do my best to rein it in around you, but could you be any sexier? Holy smokes. Don't call me sir. Call me Jensen or Dr. Ackles."
Jensen glanced aside, "This is mine, and that one coming out is mine. The one with the red and yellow markings. Go get that one."
Jared lifted the large, wheeled suitcase off the conveyer. He started to speak, but he was at Jensen's left side.
Jensen poked him on the shoulder. "Another thing, agent. I am deaf in my left ear. My right's not so great either, but I can hear you if you are on my right. If not, stand in front of me so I can see you when to speak."
"Copy that." Jared extended the handle. "Please remind me if I stray to the wrong side, or if I'm speaking too softly or too quickly, sir, I mean, Dr. Ackles."
"I will. I am not shy. Although I've worked on my neurotypical mannerisms, because of your knowledge about them, I probably won't fool you." Jensen's eyes wondered over Jared's head to the light fixtures above.
"Don't worry about trying to fool me, professor." Jared moved over to Jensen's right side. "Just be yourself."
Jensen scoffed. "None of us want that."
Jared stopped and stood in front of him. Jensen's eyebrows went up.
"Seriously, professor, don't wear yourself out with your neurotypical mannerisms. It won't matter to me."
"Don't call me professor. I'm only "professor" in the classroom." Jensen used his quotey fingers to make the point. "I prefer Jensen. Using first names makes people feel comfortable." Jensen licked his lips. "Believe me, I want you to feel comfortable around me."
"Professor…"
"Jensen." He shook his head. "Gosh, Agent Padalecki, not only are you lovely, you're polite, too. We have all my luggage. Time to go."
Jensen arranged his carry-on on top of one wheeled case and handed the other to Jared. "You lead the way."
"Um, Jensen, I would appreciate it if…"
"Come closer, agent." Jensen took his arm and drew him in. "Do not be shy, and don't forget to speak up."
Jensen tried a bit harder this time and held Jared's gaze for a few seconds before drifting to his left shoulder.
Jared leaned in, "As flattered as I am with your compliments, I hope we can remain professional."
"I am professional, but I also appreciate handsome men." Jensen said good-naturedly. "I can be a bit much, but once we get started, you will be glad I'm here. It won't take long for me to get your answers. But, honestly, it's not my fault you're so attractive."
Jared sighed and Jensen shrugged. "However, since it makes you uncomfortable, I will keep it down as much as I can. I want us to get along, even if we will only be together a short while. I want to help you solve your case."
Jensen let go of Jared's arm, threw him a small smile and pointed to the EXIT sign.
"This way?"
"This way." Jared smiled. "You are unorthodox."
"Unorthodox?" Jensen smiled at the floor as they rolled along. "Jeff Morgan say that about me?"
"Yes, and that you're an acquired taste."
Jensen snickered. "See, I am already improving. I didn't say anything about the way I taste."
Jared laughed out loud. Jensen beamed and tried again to look into Jared's eyes.
"What?" Jensen asked.
"Jeff warned me about you, but I didn't know why. Now, I do."
"Forget what Jeff told you. I'm harmless. Besides, if I don't make an impression on you, you'll forget all about me after I leave."
Jensen winked and pushed the door open. "And we can't have that."
On the drive to the Westin International Hotel, Dr., call-me-Jensen, Ackles was non-stop chatter. Surprisingly, Jared was not only unbothered, he was charmed.
"So, you asked," Jensen raised his hands and made air quotes, "why mathematics?" I'll tell you, but remember, you asked for it."
"Actually," Jared interrupted, "I asked why theoretical mathematics. I mean, what does the term "theoretical" even have to do with math? Isn't math, like, the only thing in the universe that isn't theoretical?"
Because Jared was driving, he was on Jensen's left, so the professor had turned as far as his seatbelt allowed to catch what Jared was saying.
"Such good questions! Brains and beauty. Let me give you a simple example. Theoretically, according to math, we could never reach our destination to the hotel. That is because we could halve the distance from our point, in the line of travel to the Westin International Hotel, to infinity. You know—we are one mile from the hotel, a half a mile, a quarter mile, etc. We all know that, unless you crash and roll the vehicle, we will reach our destination, but mathematically, we cannot. Like, ever."
Jared raised his voice. "So what good is that? What does a theoretical mathematician do with that information?"
"What does a theoretical mathematician do?" Jensen pointed to himself. "We identify unexplained issues and seek to resolve them. Like in the example I just presented, we discover how we can use that kind of math to solve problems, but we aren't burdened by considering its practical use."
Jared waited for a red light to fully face him.
"So, does that kind of math help anything?"
"Of course." Jensen's eyes were shining as they stared past Jared. "The knowledge we've developed from theoretical mathematics has led to many scientific and engineering achievements. Like space travel, for example."
"Wait, if you use it in space travel," Jared grinned, making a soft left turn, "doesn't that mean you would never get to where you were going? We're fifty light years from Ceti Alpha Five, we're twenty-five light years from Ceti Alpha Five, etc.?"
Jensen threw his head back and laughed. "I've created a monster."
Jared couldn't help but smile at the professor's bright and happy laugh.
Jensen's hands flapped as he spoke. "When creating a starship, for example, before boldly going where no one has gone before, the designers would need to use math for calculating the ship's mass, distance, speed, velocity, safety factors, etc. Since we currently have no actual starship, all that math would be theoretical."
Jensen expounded on his favorite subject in quick, clipped speech.
"Mathematics is the guide, instruction manual, and road map for all space travel, past, present, and future. Theoretical math is also used in drone development, medical innovations, and advanced warfare techniques, to name a few. For this line of study, my line of study, one must think outside the box. It's a perfect profession for me as I already live outside the box."
That struck Jared as interesting, but also kind of sad. Jensen separated himself, readily placing him apart from the rest of the world.
"You make outside that box sound pretty interesting."
"I love numbers," Jensen said agreeably. "They don't lie. They may be tricky to calculate correctly sometimes, but they do not lie. Integers have been my friends my whole life."
Jared drove, silently studying the road ahead.
"You got quiet," Jensen began tapping his thighs with his fingers. "Did I say something wrong? Did I go on too long? I don't always know if I say the wrong thing, or if I should stop talking. You said to," Jensen used his fingers to air quote, "be myself", but I am not good at catching non-verbal cues, like, if I should slow down or change the subject."
"No. No, nothing like that." He turned as far as he could while driving. "You made me stop and think. In a good way. I like your math enthusiasm, and I'm glad you're feeling comfortable."
"It certainly makes it easier, so thanks for that. But you can tell me if I go off the rails. I won't mind, as long as you're not trying to be mean. On the other hand, I may not even know if you are trying to be mean. Sheesh."
Jared chuckled. "I'll let you know, and I won't be mean on purpose."
"I figured. You appear to be a considerate person." Jensen tapped his toes. "I try to gauge the comfort level of others so as not to make neurotypical people wary of me. I can come across as insensitive. Because I'm a genius, I can appear overly self-important when, in fact, I'm just more intelligent than most people."
"Well, I like your honesty. It's refreshing."
"Thanks. You are nice. I suspect you're nice to everyone, until you find out they're jerks."
Jared laughed out loud.
"But," Jensen continued, "I like that you're nice to me even though I come across a little bossy. Since you like my honesty, I want to say something honest but inappropriate. You make me feel inappropriate, so it is your fault."
"What?" Jared smiled. "What's my fault?"
Jensen laughed as his fingers happily tapped together—his speech becoming quicker. "I said you're nice, and you are. You are also handsome and smart. Intelligence is my Kryptonite."
Jared chuckled. "Thank you?"
"You're welcome. Being kind and intelligent and hot, is an irresistible combination for me. So, sometime before I leave, I would like to have sex with you. I am fairly certain you would like to have sex with me, as well."
Jared barked a laugh. "And why would you think I'd want to have sex with you?"
All the mirth drained from Jensen's face. His body stiffened, and his face paled to white. His hands flapped and his fingers were tapping a mile a minute.
"I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry I said that, Agent Padalecki. I should not have said anything like that." Jensen began rocking and pulling his pantlegs. "And I was trying so hard not to. I talk too fast. I talk too much. I talk too fast."
"Jensen," Jared asked carefully. "What just happened?"
"Number one: I should not have said I wanted to have sex with you. That was crass. Number two: I should not have said that you wanted to have sex with me. Should not have said that. Not. Not. I should not have said that. Please. I'm sorry, Agent Padalecki. I'm very sorry."
Jensen assumed a defensive posture, curling in on himself with his hands over his head.
"Jensen," Jared was getting concerned now. "Everything is fine. You don't have to be sorry for anything."
Jensen eyes were blinking out of rhythm, and he was humming and whispering under his breath.
"Never say things like that. He doesn't know you. Jared doesn't know you. But you know better. What is wrong with you?" he whispered, fiercely. "Slow your brain down, stupid. Stupid, stupid. Don't let things like that slip out, dumbass."
He began pinching his inner thighs.
Something suddenly went terribly wrong in Jensen's mind. Jared pulled into a McDonald's parking lot and cut the engine.
"Jensen, what's wrong? Why are you upset? Did I do something? It goes both ways, man. You gotta tell me if do something wrong."
Jensen's breathing was choppy, and his eyes were scared. "I am sorry about my behavior, Agent Padalecki. I did not sleep well last night. I don't ever sleep well before a flight, and I hate to fly, even in first class, so I am not quite myself. Please don't…" He hummed and looked away, pinching his legs with both hands. "I won't do it again. I mean I'll try not to, but I might..."
Jared got out, went around and opened Jensen's door. Jensen flinched and looked everywhere but at him.
"Hey, Jensen. You're calling me Agent Padalecki, but is it okay if I keep calling you Jensen?"
Jensen hummed and nodded.
"So, Jensen, all's well on my end. Inappropriate subjects don't bother me. Neither does harmless flirting. I don't want you to be self-conscious talking to me. I meant it, I enjoy your playfulness. You looked frightened. Did I…did I do something to scare you?"
"No." Jensen hummed softly under his breath. "No."
Jared sighed in relief. "Then tell me what happened, and please," he paused, "please don't hurt yourself."
Jensen folded his hands on his lap. His eyes darted back and forth. "Not you at all, Agent. Jared. Not you. Me. Always me. Don't worry, I won't do it again." Jensen huffed out a sob but quieted his fingers and stopped pinching. "I mean I'll try not to. I can't always help it."
Jared knew that a soft touch would not be appreciated, and a firm hold could be seen as hostile. "Jensen, you did nothing wrong, but maybe I did. Can we talk about it?"
"Yes. I owe you an explanation and an apology. But, please, Agent Jared, continue driving to the hotel. I will tell you. But can we go there now?"
"Yes, we're less than a mile away. Is there anything I can do to put your mind at ease right now?"
Jensen shook his head. "You are extremely considerate of me, and I thank you. However, you may not like me very much after we talk. I will continue thinking you are nice even if you change your mind about me."
"I'm sure I'll still like you, and I'll forgive you if you need to be forgiven."
Jensen appeared to calm a little.
Jared got back behind the wheel and pulled them back out on the road.
"Still like me?" Jensen took in three big breaths. "How can you like or dislike me? You don't know me. You just met me."
"Of course I like you," Jared replied lightly. "Why wouldn't I? A genius professor who loves theoretical numbers and wants to have sex with me, is sitting in my passenger's seat."
Jared wasn't sure how appropriate that was, but he must have said the right thing because Jensen suddenly appeared relieved, slumping in his seat.
Jared relaxed a bit. "I'm sorry. That wasn't very professional of me, was it?"
Jensen cleared his throat. "I…I won't tell anybody."
Jared pushed the accelerator a little harder to get to the hotel. He wanted to know what upset him but was also curious about what made Jensen tick.
Jared was fascinated by his new, albeit temporary, colleague.
~~*~~*~~