You were doing the best you could with the cards you got, and still, it never seemed to be enough for Jensen.

He didn't have the time that he wanted to help you watch over his infant twins, a baby girl and boy, due to him needing to keep working to be able to support them and pay you, so naturally, his disdain for you was evident and unwavering. But you were doing great. All of his complaints centered around the fact that he wouldn't have done something that way, or ridiculous stuff like that.

No matter what you did, Jensen would find something to nitpick. And you didn't complain, not usually, because you knew how stressed he was. He came back to a house that was only his when he was filming in Canada, the kids were reaching milestones that he kept missing, and you got to witness it all. You knew what was in each of his cabinets, knew what food his twins liked, and he kept finding himself asking you about his babies.

It was another round of this same, endless routine, when Jensen came home that night. You could always tell he was home by the way the door latched like a soft whisper, but the sigh that followed was harsh and irritated.

You'd just gotten the twins to sleep, two little patterns of soft snores echoing around the pale blue nursery, when the door whispers shut and Jensen sighed heavily, like the weight of the world was a physical thing on his shoulders.

Jensen's eyes flick up to meet yours as you come down the stairs, bags under his eyes but eyebrows raised in that way that showed no sympathy besides a gentle scrutinization. "They go down okay?" he asks, peeling his coat off of his shoulders and draping it over the back of the couch. "Know y'said last week that they were gettin' fussy."

No complaints yet, but just when you think you might be free as he kicks off his boots, he circles around you to head up the stairs, more than likely to assess the work you'd gotten done. He'd always find something, even when there wasn't anything you thought was off.

"Anything I should know about?"