Daisy, Daisy 1/3
Title: Daisy, Daisy
Rating: R/NC-17 for non graphic sexual contact and themes
Summery: Set in Austin Texas in 1977, Jared and Jensen are both homeless, Jensen making money as a hustler and Jared just existing for the two years it will take for him to turn 18, the two meet up and this is their story.
Warning: Character Death, mainly Gen, dirty old men.
Jensen was only a few months older then him. But he’d been alone for a few more years. That fact had scared Jared, that the other boy had been alone since he was thirteen. They don’t talk about before. The first group of kids he had hooked up with had spent all their time talking about how much they missed home, how much they wanted to get back. Jared hadn’t had much to say to them. They left, slowly with money wired from parents who were desperate to have their babies back, who were worried sick for the months that their children left.
Jared wasn’t one of them, He wasn’t one of the boys who left for kicks. But he didn’t want to forget his mother’s gentle hands on his forehead when he was sick, or the sweet tea she made on hot days. But sharing the small details with these people who talked about homes full of people begging them to come back seemed to ruin them in his memory. He held to memories of his mother and father like giving them away would kill him. As the group got smaller, fluxuating with other kids who came and went weeks later he left, left the children who left angrily, slamming white picket fences shut over small details only to return to cookies and mothers hugging them.
He left them, left them looking for people who were permanent, left looking for family. The next group had all been about what they were going to do. He’d heard about boys who were going to become playboys, rich with women drooling after them, heard about more then a few girls and boys who were going to go to LA, Hollywood and be discovered, how the few months on the streets would give them an edge. There were quite a few who wanted to leave Austin and head to San Francisco.
They didn’t talk about how they survived, didn’t talk about the world that they were in. They didn’t talk about how bad they smelled how much they hated Austin, they didn’t say a word about the homes they left. They arrived battered and bruised and angry. They arrived with blood from their mouths and tears swallowed back into their throats. They looked forward, always moving, going from place to place, hearing about new places, some place better then where they were. Some place where they could do more. They looked down on the rich kids who escaped suburbia for a vacation. They looked down on anyone who bent over to survive. They worked through smarts, stealing and running, laughing, devil may care.
They left one by one, in a van destined for California with fellow idealists, looking for hedonistic paradise. They left in he back of police cars, caught for living for nothing except themselves and anger at those who had money.
And Jared left for his sanity.
He slept alone in a park, not the smartest thing to do by any stretch of the imagination, but it felt safe, it was open, the hot air didn’t stifle him in the night and he could listen to what was going on around him, no one wanted to bother the boy who towered over them. He lay on a bench, feet hanging over the edge and looking up at the stars. Jensen has sat down in front of him. Back pressing lightly against the wood of the bench he looked back at Jared, who had bunched his hoodie up and was using it as a pillow to protect against the feeling of the decorative iron arms. Jared looked down and raised an eyebrow, he’d seen Jensen around. Seen him get into fancy cars that trawled along the sides of the park, slowly moving along for the pretty young boys and haggard older men, willing to do anything for a fix.
A car drove past, the beams lighting up the other boys face and Jared could see the bruise flowering over his eye and the puffy red cut on his lower lip. The light was gone, a young boy sliding into a car and the night was only beginning.
Jared lay back, not making a sound, waiting to hear why the other boy has come over, and sat, why he isn’t standing on a corner waiting for a car to bring him money for a night, for a day.
“I can’t work if I get busted up every night” the boys voice was surprisingly sharp, and deep, not the lilting cute tone he heard a lot of the boys use. “I think the guy who jumped me works for this pimp that wants me to work for him.”
Jared nodded, remaining silent, waiting to hear more, to find out what was going to happen. Find out why this boy was looking over at him like he was supposed to do something about it.
“I don’t like pimps”
Jared agreed, the first few weeks he’d been on the street were tough, and there had been an abundance of men who had offered him food, shelter and the stipulation that he would work for them. He’d starved and begged rather than do what they asked. Put up with the quarters given to him with the high holy looks and the angry “Why don’t you just go home” that had been spat at him as he curled in on himself asking for money.
Now he didn’t do that. Now he just stole what he needed and lay up at night looking at the stars.
The boy licked his lips, not to attract Jared’s attention to them, though it did anyway. Jared looked down at the other boy, the street lamp hardly illuminated his face, the passing cars lit him so brightly that he couldn’t really see. He could see the rough imprint of a ring the darkest bruises over it. In the occasional flashes of cars he could see that the blood on his lip was dried, that the attack wasn’t so long ago.
“And I see you here, every night. And you aren’t hustling, well at least I never see you.” The boy took a deep breath in, “And you don’t get bothered.”
Jared shrugged, it was true, six foot five inch boys don’t get bothered. And he’s got a chip on his shoulder and anger about him that can make him look taller, stronger.
“I want you to protect me” The voice he used was small, tight because the other boy had to swallow his pride.
“What?” Jared asked confused, looking over at the other boy and raising an eyebrow.
The other boy had gulped “Tricks know if you’ve got someone waiting, if you have a friend, that they can’t just take you, fuck you and leave you, or worse kill you. My last partner got picked up by the cops, and I figured I was doing okay with out but then I got jumped.”
Jared nodded slowly, it made sense, he’d seen the boys with partners, often both hustlers, one turning a trick the other getting in the car presumably for safety.
“I’m not a hustler” He said softly. “I don’t do that”
“I just need someone who looks like they can do harm, and so that people know I’ve got someone waiting for me, who will notice if I don’t show up after a trick.”
Jared sat up, he could feel the other boy moving away, aware of how much risk he’d put himself in didn’t know if Jared would be angry that he’d considered asking him, would try and kill him for being a whore or gay, or would even just take him, use him and leave.
“I’m Jared” He said softly instead, “And you are?”
“Jensen” The boy smiled, slightly relieved, his hair was matted, Jared could see from an upright angle, long and caught in blood probably.
“Mkay, Jensen, what’s in it for me?” Jared tries to pitch his tone just right, tries to convey what he doesn’t want. Unfortunately he either isn’t trying hard enough or Jensen doesn’t have anything else to give.
Jensen turns, moving easily from a seated position to his knees, sliding between Jared’s long legs his mouth on the dirty leg of his jeans, pressing kisses gently to his thighs. Jared had to slide his hands down, spread his legs farther, cup Jensen’s face in his hands. “Not that” was all he said, cradling Jensen’s head in his hands, he could feel the slight stubble barely there under his thumbs.
And Jensen looks up, leaning back, legs spreading offering, confused at Jared’s shaking head. He can see as a car passes the looks that he’s getting from Jensen.
“I don’t want you like that” Jared said, his voice gentle, realizing how skittish Jensen was with simply the way he had so eagerly sunk down, how quickly he lay back, and how uncertain he looks in the passing car lights. Jared looked down at Jensen. “What else can you give me?”
“I have an apartment” He said in a thin voice, worried. “I guess you could stay there, with me.”
Jared nodded, sliding off the bench so he was in front of Jensen, sitting between his knees. “I’ll protect you” He said, offering the boy his hand. He hunched down, trying not to look tall trying hard not to threaten the other boy. Jensen gripped his hand looking up at him with wide green eyes, waiting for the next moment, waiting to see what would happen.
Jared gently tugged his hand pulling the other boy up. Taking the other boy’s hand, ignoring the ripped, jeans. Chosen so no one could ignore what he was selling, what would be freely given. But Jared ignored it “Come on” he said softly “lets go.”
Jensen looks over at him, wondering why this tall boy won’t take what he offers, why he won’t let Jensen just suck him. Get it over with, if he has this idea about being boyfriends, scrimping together moments which won’t be tainted with Johns, talking about their history like it’s a lifetime movie. Or if he’s just made the worst mistake of his life and Jared is preparing to rape and kill him. Wondering if it would actually be the worst mistake of his life.
They walk from the park, walk through the tall buildings of the business district where the men who Jensen kneels for work, where they bring home money for their wives who drink too much and dream of something more then their mother’s had.
Jared is quiet, walking with sure feet, only half a step behind Jensen following him without ever leaving his side. The business district is silent, only the occasional car driving through, forced laughter of trophy wives coming from important functions drifting out from the cars driving too fast on almost empty roads.
There is something comforting about the fact that Jared is there, tall towering over him, Jensen never topped six feet, even though the doctors when he was a kid said he would, never bulked up, keeping his slender frame because customers wanted that. There is something foreign about it, about the arrangement how it wasn’t sealed with a kiss, with his lips wrapped around Jared’s cock, or bent over the park bench whimpering as he was fucked hard. How instead he has a silent giant who is keeping the coke heads who sleep on the park benches from calling out at him.
They reach his apartment, the cool of night making the long walk easier. Jensen bent down sliding his shoe off, half expecting Jared to take the moment to touch him, but Jared’s huge hands were securely in the pockets of his hoodie, not touching him.
They walked up the stairs and the same key opened the apartment, the door swung open to reveal a small studio apartment with a mattress on the floor and a ratty couch, both claimed on trash day and dragged up the stairs.
Jared walked in easily, looking around at the place, not judging just silently looking, there was a small kitchen attached, there were a few dishes piled up on one side of the sink, they were clean, mismatched as though pawing through the salvation army had given only incomplete sets. There was a bookshelf, which leaned slightly to the left, but held the thin paperbacks of poetry and a few tattered novels. The sheets of the bed were neatly made, poor quality and obviously used.
Jensen stood against the door, this was the first person he’d ever brought into his apartment, and it made him nervous showing someone else the place he’d carved out in his life.
“Its not much, but the guy rents it to me without checking how old I am” Jensen said, his voice a little more comfortable then before, still nervous, wondering when Jared would prove to want more then he’d originally stated.
“S’nice. Clean” Jared said, looking over his shoulder and smiling, the smile was totally different from his height, childish and free.
“Thanks.”
They stood staring at each other, and the moment was broken by Jared carefully unzipping his hoodie, folding it carefully and putting it on the arm of the sofa, Jensen shook his head, hair sliding into his eyes as he smiled moving to the other man, looking up at him through impossibly long lashes, one hand sliding down his skinny frame raising his shirt. When he looked up at Jared he could see the man’s hand darting out, pushing on his shoulder.
“No” Jared said easily laying back on the couch stepping away from Jensen. His feet dangled over the couch and his was almost comically tall for the sofa but Jensen was completely relived. Not only was his bed, which he took an inordinate amount of pride in, going to remain only his but Jared was obviously not interested in him.
With that he was able to fall asleep, hearing the city of Austin waking up for work.
They both woke around noon. Jensen wincing as he sat up, having forgotten to wipe the blood that had dried off his lips he slid out of his bed crawling a step or two before pushing himself up wincing at the soreness in his legs from running the moment he’d had a chance to get away from the men who’d tried to push him into the rough concrete of the building, tried to get his pants around his ankles. And not pay.
Jared was still asleep on the couch, one leg had fallen off the faded flower patterned arm of the couch and he was in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable angle. He walked past him into the bathroom, washing the dried blood off his face and splashing water over his face, trying to scrub it clean wincing as his rigorous motions touched bruises. As soon as he felt he had scrubbed enough he looked up, water dripping from his bangs onto his nose. He winced, seeing the dark purple bruising around his eye, the cuts on his cheekbones and the disturbing yellow of the rest of his face.
“Fuck” He muttered, unsure how he was going to work until it was healed, sure it was dark when they picked him up but he often went to hotels, went to apartments, parked under streetlamps. He slid into the shower, trying to wash off the grime from the night before, from before he got jumped. He come out, wrapping a towel around his waist, Jared was still asleep on the couch, his face buried in the hoodie.
Jensen stood awkwardly moving over to his bureau and grabbing a shirt, an army shirt, bought from the army navy surplus store for under a buck, Jensen wonders if some poor sod died in it, or if he just hated the army that much after coming home. If the shirt had gone far past Texas and into Vietnam or the other side of the world. He looks back over at Jared, who burrowed into the couch even deeper as if he could feel Jensen looking at him.
Jensen pads over to the kitchen area, his feet are quiet against the cheap, roll out, imitation, linoleum. Opening the fridge and looking at the meager assortment of food he keeps in it and evaluating choices he grabs a bottle of orange juice, unscrewing the lid at taking one gulp directly from the bottle, then grabbing a glass and filling it.
There was a window in the kitchen, small barely two feet wide and a foot tall, but it allowed for at least some looking out into the world as Jensen slowly drank his orange juice.
Suddenly he looked over and saw Jared standing, leaning on one arm against the bare wall that ran from the living room to the kitchen area.
“You’re up.” Jensen said softly.
“Yeah, couch wasn’t so bad.” Jared was trying not to look intimidating as he stood, trying not to scare Jensen. “Man those look bad” He said, wincing as Jensen turned to face him.
Jensen shrugged “I’ve had worse.” He said honestly. “It was just some jackass. But it’ll probably cost me at least three days work.”
Jared paused looking over at him “I don’t mean to sound like a jack ass, but are you bruised on your body”
“Yeah, but those always heal quicker, not cuts as well” He sighed, the hand not holding the orange juice gestured to his face, small triangular cuts over his cheekbones, bruises blossoming over.
Jared shifted awkwardly, his feet were covered in ragged canvas topped shoes, making them look bigger than they were. Somehow in the light of day Jensen can see that he probably made the right choice wanting Jared to protect him. There’s something about how carefully he moves, how carefully he talks that makes Jensen feel safe. Jensen can’t even remember the last time he felt almost this safe.
“You want something to eat?” Jensen asks, “I mean I don’t have much… and sorry but money’s gunna be a little tight till the bruising fades.”
Jared shrugged “I can get money.” He said it easily casual about how it would happen, even though he’d made it clear that he didn’t go down on his knees for old men.
Jensen nods, and turns back to the fridge opening it. “So, breakfast, lunch what ever this is.” He laughs awkwardly.
“Do you have any make up?” Jared asks.
Jensen turned, a bright red flush flying up his cheeks and it isn’t all embarrassment, its shame and anger mixed in. “Why would I?”
Jared smiles easily, it isn’t mocking, its trying to relax Jensen. “Cause it sucks, but it hides the bruising.” And he pushes off the wall, his hand spread and pushing off, fingers lingering, sliding against the off white of the wall. “If you want, I can help you put it on.”
And it isn’t in Jensen’s plan to learn everything about this tall boy, but he learns something then. Jared didn’t run away to piss off his parents, and no one is looking for him.
Jensen shakes his head, the ratty edges of his hair brushing against his cheekbones against the bruises. “I dun need to.” He says, unsure what their arrangement is, if Jared will kick in for the apartment or if he’ll simply follow Jensen when tricks pull up, a silent force whom Jensen can tell where he is, can show the men who pick him up that he will be missed if he doesn’t show up, that he has a 6’5 man who can hurt them waiting.
Jared nods, and smiles, falling back onto the couch. “So how’s this gunna work?”
Jensen gulps. “Well, if they want to go into the park, follow me, make sure they don’t… You know. And that they pay after.” He takes hold of his orange juice and moves over to his bed, unmade from the night before. He sits on it and looks up at Jared. “If it sounds like they’re hurting me just get me out of there.”
Jared nods, his head is slightly off the couch, long hair falling to gravities forces as blood flows to his face. “Mkay. And if they get in a car?”
Jensen gulped, “Just be there, Let them know you’ll be waiting, that I’m not alone.” The last words sounded desperate. “That someone will know. Even if they think you’re my pimp or something.”
“I’m not though” Jared said. “I just need a place to stay, not your money.”
And for a second Jensen wonders how the hell the boy survived for as long as he did. “Why you got parents to call?” He asked, angry that he could survive without, that there was a possibility that he hadn’t, that he could have been spared them men fulfilling fantasies too depraved to ask anyone who wasn’t guaranteed to agree. .
Jared snapped his head up. “If I did I wouldn’t be crashing on your couch.” He said, hair falling almost violently against his forehead.
The question hung in the air and Jensen wished he could retract it, whished he didn’t have to depend on someone else so much and that he wasn’t so many things. Jared stood up, and Jensen bit his lip stepping back against the wall. Jared towered over him, he was barely 5’10 and while it made him look younger he was also vulnerable for it. Jared just smiled.
“Sorry” He said softly and leaned against the wall. “I just… really hate pimps.”
Jensen nodded. “Yeah, they’re fucked up.”
Jared laughed, a shaky laugh which didn’t seem like it was really resonating. “The whole waiting at the bus stop thing” he said, curling his back, dropping his height a few inches. “Thinking they could get us that easy.” He shook his head, “I ‘m not your pimp. But I have no issue scaring people into thinking it.”
Jensen relaxed slightly and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” And he had the overwhelming feeling of relaxation as he smiled at Jared. “If it looks sketchy… can you… follow me?” He asked “make sure that you know where I am.”
Jared nodded and sat up “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
That night Jensen sat across for Jared, a container of make up sitting between them, Jared lightly covering the bruising on Jensen’s face with gentle fingers. “You sure you want to go out tonight.”
Jensen nodded, keeping his movements still as Jared smoothed out the chunks, his other hand holding the tube of foundation.
“Just blowjobs” He said softly “I’m gunna keep it to the park. So…”
Jared looked over his work, the dim lighting in Jensen’s apartment almost the same as the streetlights would offer in the park.
“I’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry.” Jared smiled and Jensen returned it, he could feel how large Jared’s hand was on his face, how gently he cupped his face.
“Thanks” Jensen said, still confused by the gentle touches that didn’t lead to anything, the way that Jared had simply laid out on the far too small couch instead of forcing his way into a bed. Nothing was matching up with his expectations. Nothing followed the patterns that he had figured everything followed, there were no impatient tugs on his arms causing Jensen to spill into the other man’s lap or looks sliding up and down his body as he walked. Instead there was Jared, simply sitting and being there, existing.
It was odd, odd to have someone who had no expectations on him, who didn’t want him. He didn’t remember that in this city. This city where he’d been thrown into far too young.
As he stood, later that night with his jeans far too tight and a shirt that was nearly constricting he could feel Jared’s reassuring presence never to close that he was intrusive but close enough that Jensen always felt him.
Men were rough, but nothing he couldn’t handle, they fucked his mouth, whispered the dirtiest things they could think of, talked about his lips, how they just knew. Jensen let the words wash over him, ignoring them, ignoring the men and ignoring everything around him. He knew he was part of an elaborate fantasy these men allowed themselves. That they called him those names because they had nothing else to say. That they couldn’t be sweet, be tender.
Even with the queens dancing down the streets in heels and hot pants and with the men dancing with men, grabbing each other and practically fucking on the street, this was Texas.
And Texas is nothing but repressed. Full of men who are men and who come to the parks for dirty guilty sex. Texas is full of men who stand in bathrooms sizing each other up, looking around the greyhound bus depot standing next to the pimps and collecting young boys.
And Austin, caught in the midst of music that pours out and the men who would fuck as much as fight each other. Caught between the rock and roll and free love and the country and crosses that are raised on everyone’s back. Between love and guilt. Austin, where the lost boys of Texas go. The stepping stone between Richardson and anywhere else. Fifty dollars thrown at the youth the thrown away sons of religious men.
Fifty dollars doesn’t get you much. And then full circle onto Jensen on his knees, a man thrusting into his mouth, gag reflex gone when he was fourteen, a man’s hands in his hair, kept long just because they liked it. They liked his girly mouth, his slim form, the things that got him beat by older boys when he was so much younger now sustained him, allowed him to live the life he did.
Repression causes the curses that men scream as the come to be directed not at Jensen the 16 year old twink who swallows with out thinking, they scream at themselves, wondering how the hell they can scream like this with their cock in the mouth a boy the age of their son. And they throw the money at him, angry with themselves and only able to be angry at him. Jensen doesn’t care as they jerk their pants shut and he stays on his knees and grabs the money. He can feel the bundle of bills growing in his back pocket and as he rests back on his heels, head reeling, face painfully reminded moments after of them man’s rough hands and his throat sore.
“Jensen, you have to stop now” Jared said softly, appearing and leaning against a tree that looked out onto the bushes. “Seven guys in one night., you’re hurt.”
And Jensen nods, his ribs hurt, his make up is smeared he can tell and he’s tired and Jared is right, and he knows he has to go back home and he doesn’t want to stay any longer but he can’t imagine going back. “I’ll be fine.” And he can hear how stressed his voice is and Jared can too and he gently bends down and helps Jensen up.
They walk back and it becomes a pattern, days of sleeping while the rest of the world was awake and Jared heading out, sometimes cooking, sometimes coming back with money that he wouldn’t say how he got but wouldn’t mind putting into food, and the rent and the electric bill.
Then Jared would follow him, a silent shadow, a feeling in the back of his mind a comforting feeling. He would relax a little more knowing that the other man was there. The dates he went on, sliding into lives, staying for a moment or two and then leaving his throat raw and ass sore.
Jared would walk with him home, allowing Jensen to lean against him, supporting him as they walked back. Then the day would start again with Jared quietly making breakfast far too late in the day and slipping out as Jensen sits with a book and reads, quietly.
They don’t have much to say to one another. Neither had a job they wanted to talk about, and Jensen wasn’t ever in the mood to discuss why he was here. Jared had a few anecdotes that he handed out like they were party tricks. They were light and unrevealing, stories about a neighbor who did this or that.
Jensen can’t even remember what his neighbors looked like, if they were blonde, men , women. But he remembers the feeling of normality, of the traditions that his family sat through and the way that the church pews felt after hours of jumping up and down and singing. Of the exhilaration of feeling Christ’s love which is now denied to him.
He looks up as Jared comes in, a fistful of dollar bills spilling out onto the top of the bookshelf, the now traditional dumping grounds for cash. A show of honesty that neither will take it until Jensen slides over and orders it, large bills in back, serial numbers alphabetized.
Jared doesn’t mind. They keep the money in a hollow book, Jensen doesn’t trust banks, and Jared trusts Jensen, and Jensen trusts Jared.
Jensen’s curled up on his bed, it’s a little uncomfortable, but he likes the feeling of his back against the wall and curled into the mattress his book nestled into the crook of his elbow, hair falling into his face, strands moving in time with his breath.
“What are you reading?” Jared asked suddenly sitting on the couch with a can of soda, something miraculously back in the house since two incomes were supporting them.
Jensen looked up “Robert Frost.” He said uncertainly, wondering why now of all times Jared had taken an interest, they’d sat like this for weeks, Jared eating and maybe picking up a book of his own, Jensen curled into his bed reading slowly, his lips following the words.
Jared sits forward. “That poet?” He looks interested. “Two roads in a wood…” He smiled easily, “Wait, no that’s not right” He screwed up his face slightly, his face still a grin. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference” His voice dropped slightly
Jensen blinked, flipping to that poem, he’d glanced through the poems when he’d found it in the nickel box of the book store, the line stuck out in his head. The whole imagery of the poem stuck out in his head.
“I wonder if we took to road less traveled.” Jensen said before he could stop himself. “You know leaving.”
Jared slid off the couch, his long legs nearly reaching the bottom of Jensen’s mattress. “I dunno, I remember just knowing that if I didn’t leave I would be stuck forever.” And Jared doesn’t look too angry, doesn’t look like he’s sixteen and living with a hustler because its better then living on the streets. “The poem refers to a distinct decision, of standing and looking down two paths, but I just remember more of a road, and if I stayed I’d always be there. There was only once choice.”
Jensen thinks on that. “I guess. I think about it sometimes. You know. If I hadn’t made that choice.” He thinks about other choices. Because he can’t ask Jared what he does during the day because it opens up the possibility that Jensen could have been doing that. Jensen could have changed, but fifty dollars and a one way ticket doesn’t allow him to change.
Jared looked over at Jensen “Hey, we make the choices available to us.” He says it gently, like he knows Jensen’s mind.
Jensen doesn’t know how he does it but when Jared looks at him just then he doesn’t feel so bad. Doesn’t think that Jared has ever thought badly of him has never rolled his eyes as Jensen leads a man so much older then him into the bushes. And it makes Jensen so happy to finally realize this that sits up entirely.
“So the choices we make aren’t our fault?” He can’t keep the hope from his voice.
“We’re sixteen. What choices can we have?” Jared asked.
“Thirteen.” Jensen said, “I was thirteen.”
Jared paused and looked over at Jensen. “Then they weren’t your choices to make.”
And Jensen feels absolved.
The routine changes, Jared still goes out in the mornings brings home cash which Jensen lets sit for a while before he organizes it easily. He organizes it while they talk, animated about what ever they want. Jared likes talking about the books that Jensen is reading. Starts bringing ones he likes, classics far from the realm of what Jensen was exposed to. When Jensen finds something he likes he’ll read it out loud. Jared doesn’t seem to notice the halted way that he reads.
Jensen was never the best reader in his class, instead having to go off to the side and work with a special group. But unlike the rest of the group he loved the words that he read, no matter how long it took to get them out or how annoying the order seemed to him. No one had ever talked with him about what he read like Jared did.
The words were suddenly exciting and Jensen’s ideas about them got Jared even more excited then the original. Eventually the books were discarded and the two would sit on the edge of their seats throwing ideas back and forth,
It suddenly didn’t matter that it took Jensen twice as long to read aloud as it took Jared. All that mattered was after he read. How much they could talk about.
It was weird. Jensen hadn’t ever been listened to, his family had never really been interested in books, only that their children grow up to be good Christians and Jensen ruined that. He’s never had a teacher who fostered questions and discussion. There was a science teacher, a few weeks before he left Richardson, who questioned the pastor’s daughter about creationism. But no one wanted to argue with her in class, even if Jensen had to admit that it didn’t make as much sense as evolution.
But Jared is happy to have someone to talk to, and Jensen wonders, why is he out here. Jared is smart, smart in a way Jensen never realized from their earlier conversations. Before that day, Jensen never though of Jared as anything besides the muscle that didn’t get fucked for money.
But now Jensen trusts Jared with so much more, he trusts him with the stuff he doesn’t really want to say, trusts Jared to chase after a trick who beat Jensen and refused to pay, trusts him to help Jensen walk home after being fucked so hard he doesn’t think he can walk at all, let alone properly.
Part 2
Rating: R/NC-17 for non graphic sexual contact and themes
Summery: Set in Austin Texas in 1977, Jared and Jensen are both homeless, Jensen making money as a hustler and Jared just existing for the two years it will take for him to turn 18, the two meet up and this is their story.
Warning: Character Death, mainly Gen, dirty old men.
Jensen was only a few months older then him. But he’d been alone for a few more years. That fact had scared Jared, that the other boy had been alone since he was thirteen. They don’t talk about before. The first group of kids he had hooked up with had spent all their time talking about how much they missed home, how much they wanted to get back. Jared hadn’t had much to say to them. They left, slowly with money wired from parents who were desperate to have their babies back, who were worried sick for the months that their children left.
Jared wasn’t one of them, He wasn’t one of the boys who left for kicks. But he didn’t want to forget his mother’s gentle hands on his forehead when he was sick, or the sweet tea she made on hot days. But sharing the small details with these people who talked about homes full of people begging them to come back seemed to ruin them in his memory. He held to memories of his mother and father like giving them away would kill him. As the group got smaller, fluxuating with other kids who came and went weeks later he left, left the children who left angrily, slamming white picket fences shut over small details only to return to cookies and mothers hugging them.
He left them, left them looking for people who were permanent, left looking for family. The next group had all been about what they were going to do. He’d heard about boys who were going to become playboys, rich with women drooling after them, heard about more then a few girls and boys who were going to go to LA, Hollywood and be discovered, how the few months on the streets would give them an edge. There were quite a few who wanted to leave Austin and head to San Francisco.
They didn’t talk about how they survived, didn’t talk about the world that they were in. They didn’t talk about how bad they smelled how much they hated Austin, they didn’t say a word about the homes they left. They arrived battered and bruised and angry. They arrived with blood from their mouths and tears swallowed back into their throats. They looked forward, always moving, going from place to place, hearing about new places, some place better then where they were. Some place where they could do more. They looked down on the rich kids who escaped suburbia for a vacation. They looked down on anyone who bent over to survive. They worked through smarts, stealing and running, laughing, devil may care.
They left one by one, in a van destined for California with fellow idealists, looking for hedonistic paradise. They left in he back of police cars, caught for living for nothing except themselves and anger at those who had money.
And Jared left for his sanity.
He slept alone in a park, not the smartest thing to do by any stretch of the imagination, but it felt safe, it was open, the hot air didn’t stifle him in the night and he could listen to what was going on around him, no one wanted to bother the boy who towered over them. He lay on a bench, feet hanging over the edge and looking up at the stars. Jensen has sat down in front of him. Back pressing lightly against the wood of the bench he looked back at Jared, who had bunched his hoodie up and was using it as a pillow to protect against the feeling of the decorative iron arms. Jared looked down and raised an eyebrow, he’d seen Jensen around. Seen him get into fancy cars that trawled along the sides of the park, slowly moving along for the pretty young boys and haggard older men, willing to do anything for a fix.
A car drove past, the beams lighting up the other boys face and Jared could see the bruise flowering over his eye and the puffy red cut on his lower lip. The light was gone, a young boy sliding into a car and the night was only beginning.
Jared lay back, not making a sound, waiting to hear why the other boy has come over, and sat, why he isn’t standing on a corner waiting for a car to bring him money for a night, for a day.
“I can’t work if I get busted up every night” the boys voice was surprisingly sharp, and deep, not the lilting cute tone he heard a lot of the boys use. “I think the guy who jumped me works for this pimp that wants me to work for him.”
Jared nodded, remaining silent, waiting to hear more, to find out what was going to happen. Find out why this boy was looking over at him like he was supposed to do something about it.
“I don’t like pimps”
Jared agreed, the first few weeks he’d been on the street were tough, and there had been an abundance of men who had offered him food, shelter and the stipulation that he would work for them. He’d starved and begged rather than do what they asked. Put up with the quarters given to him with the high holy looks and the angry “Why don’t you just go home” that had been spat at him as he curled in on himself asking for money.
Now he didn’t do that. Now he just stole what he needed and lay up at night looking at the stars.
The boy licked his lips, not to attract Jared’s attention to them, though it did anyway. Jared looked down at the other boy, the street lamp hardly illuminated his face, the passing cars lit him so brightly that he couldn’t really see. He could see the rough imprint of a ring the darkest bruises over it. In the occasional flashes of cars he could see that the blood on his lip was dried, that the attack wasn’t so long ago.
“And I see you here, every night. And you aren’t hustling, well at least I never see you.” The boy took a deep breath in, “And you don’t get bothered.”
Jared shrugged, it was true, six foot five inch boys don’t get bothered. And he’s got a chip on his shoulder and anger about him that can make him look taller, stronger.
“I want you to protect me” The voice he used was small, tight because the other boy had to swallow his pride.
“What?” Jared asked confused, looking over at the other boy and raising an eyebrow.
The other boy had gulped “Tricks know if you’ve got someone waiting, if you have a friend, that they can’t just take you, fuck you and leave you, or worse kill you. My last partner got picked up by the cops, and I figured I was doing okay with out but then I got jumped.”
Jared nodded slowly, it made sense, he’d seen the boys with partners, often both hustlers, one turning a trick the other getting in the car presumably for safety.
“I’m not a hustler” He said softly. “I don’t do that”
“I just need someone who looks like they can do harm, and so that people know I’ve got someone waiting for me, who will notice if I don’t show up after a trick.”
Jared sat up, he could feel the other boy moving away, aware of how much risk he’d put himself in didn’t know if Jared would be angry that he’d considered asking him, would try and kill him for being a whore or gay, or would even just take him, use him and leave.
“I’m Jared” He said softly instead, “And you are?”
“Jensen” The boy smiled, slightly relieved, his hair was matted, Jared could see from an upright angle, long and caught in blood probably.
“Mkay, Jensen, what’s in it for me?” Jared tries to pitch his tone just right, tries to convey what he doesn’t want. Unfortunately he either isn’t trying hard enough or Jensen doesn’t have anything else to give.
Jensen turns, moving easily from a seated position to his knees, sliding between Jared’s long legs his mouth on the dirty leg of his jeans, pressing kisses gently to his thighs. Jared had to slide his hands down, spread his legs farther, cup Jensen’s face in his hands. “Not that” was all he said, cradling Jensen’s head in his hands, he could feel the slight stubble barely there under his thumbs.
And Jensen looks up, leaning back, legs spreading offering, confused at Jared’s shaking head. He can see as a car passes the looks that he’s getting from Jensen.
“I don’t want you like that” Jared said, his voice gentle, realizing how skittish Jensen was with simply the way he had so eagerly sunk down, how quickly he lay back, and how uncertain he looks in the passing car lights. Jared looked down at Jensen. “What else can you give me?”
“I have an apartment” He said in a thin voice, worried. “I guess you could stay there, with me.”
Jared nodded, sliding off the bench so he was in front of Jensen, sitting between his knees. “I’ll protect you” He said, offering the boy his hand. He hunched down, trying not to look tall trying hard not to threaten the other boy. Jensen gripped his hand looking up at him with wide green eyes, waiting for the next moment, waiting to see what would happen.
Jared gently tugged his hand pulling the other boy up. Taking the other boy’s hand, ignoring the ripped, jeans. Chosen so no one could ignore what he was selling, what would be freely given. But Jared ignored it “Come on” he said softly “lets go.”
Jensen looks over at him, wondering why this tall boy won’t take what he offers, why he won’t let Jensen just suck him. Get it over with, if he has this idea about being boyfriends, scrimping together moments which won’t be tainted with Johns, talking about their history like it’s a lifetime movie. Or if he’s just made the worst mistake of his life and Jared is preparing to rape and kill him. Wondering if it would actually be the worst mistake of his life.
They walk from the park, walk through the tall buildings of the business district where the men who Jensen kneels for work, where they bring home money for their wives who drink too much and dream of something more then their mother’s had.
Jared is quiet, walking with sure feet, only half a step behind Jensen following him without ever leaving his side. The business district is silent, only the occasional car driving through, forced laughter of trophy wives coming from important functions drifting out from the cars driving too fast on almost empty roads.
There is something comforting about the fact that Jared is there, tall towering over him, Jensen never topped six feet, even though the doctors when he was a kid said he would, never bulked up, keeping his slender frame because customers wanted that. There is something foreign about it, about the arrangement how it wasn’t sealed with a kiss, with his lips wrapped around Jared’s cock, or bent over the park bench whimpering as he was fucked hard. How instead he has a silent giant who is keeping the coke heads who sleep on the park benches from calling out at him.
They reach his apartment, the cool of night making the long walk easier. Jensen bent down sliding his shoe off, half expecting Jared to take the moment to touch him, but Jared’s huge hands were securely in the pockets of his hoodie, not touching him.
They walked up the stairs and the same key opened the apartment, the door swung open to reveal a small studio apartment with a mattress on the floor and a ratty couch, both claimed on trash day and dragged up the stairs.
Jared walked in easily, looking around at the place, not judging just silently looking, there was a small kitchen attached, there were a few dishes piled up on one side of the sink, they were clean, mismatched as though pawing through the salvation army had given only incomplete sets. There was a bookshelf, which leaned slightly to the left, but held the thin paperbacks of poetry and a few tattered novels. The sheets of the bed were neatly made, poor quality and obviously used.
Jensen stood against the door, this was the first person he’d ever brought into his apartment, and it made him nervous showing someone else the place he’d carved out in his life.
“Its not much, but the guy rents it to me without checking how old I am” Jensen said, his voice a little more comfortable then before, still nervous, wondering when Jared would prove to want more then he’d originally stated.
“S’nice. Clean” Jared said, looking over his shoulder and smiling, the smile was totally different from his height, childish and free.
“Thanks.”
They stood staring at each other, and the moment was broken by Jared carefully unzipping his hoodie, folding it carefully and putting it on the arm of the sofa, Jensen shook his head, hair sliding into his eyes as he smiled moving to the other man, looking up at him through impossibly long lashes, one hand sliding down his skinny frame raising his shirt. When he looked up at Jared he could see the man’s hand darting out, pushing on his shoulder.
“No” Jared said easily laying back on the couch stepping away from Jensen. His feet dangled over the couch and his was almost comically tall for the sofa but Jensen was completely relived. Not only was his bed, which he took an inordinate amount of pride in, going to remain only his but Jared was obviously not interested in him.
With that he was able to fall asleep, hearing the city of Austin waking up for work.
They both woke around noon. Jensen wincing as he sat up, having forgotten to wipe the blood that had dried off his lips he slid out of his bed crawling a step or two before pushing himself up wincing at the soreness in his legs from running the moment he’d had a chance to get away from the men who’d tried to push him into the rough concrete of the building, tried to get his pants around his ankles. And not pay.
Jared was still asleep on the couch, one leg had fallen off the faded flower patterned arm of the couch and he was in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable angle. He walked past him into the bathroom, washing the dried blood off his face and splashing water over his face, trying to scrub it clean wincing as his rigorous motions touched bruises. As soon as he felt he had scrubbed enough he looked up, water dripping from his bangs onto his nose. He winced, seeing the dark purple bruising around his eye, the cuts on his cheekbones and the disturbing yellow of the rest of his face.
“Fuck” He muttered, unsure how he was going to work until it was healed, sure it was dark when they picked him up but he often went to hotels, went to apartments, parked under streetlamps. He slid into the shower, trying to wash off the grime from the night before, from before he got jumped. He come out, wrapping a towel around his waist, Jared was still asleep on the couch, his face buried in the hoodie.
Jensen stood awkwardly moving over to his bureau and grabbing a shirt, an army shirt, bought from the army navy surplus store for under a buck, Jensen wonders if some poor sod died in it, or if he just hated the army that much after coming home. If the shirt had gone far past Texas and into Vietnam or the other side of the world. He looks back over at Jared, who burrowed into the couch even deeper as if he could feel Jensen looking at him.
Jensen pads over to the kitchen area, his feet are quiet against the cheap, roll out, imitation, linoleum. Opening the fridge and looking at the meager assortment of food he keeps in it and evaluating choices he grabs a bottle of orange juice, unscrewing the lid at taking one gulp directly from the bottle, then grabbing a glass and filling it.
There was a window in the kitchen, small barely two feet wide and a foot tall, but it allowed for at least some looking out into the world as Jensen slowly drank his orange juice.
Suddenly he looked over and saw Jared standing, leaning on one arm against the bare wall that ran from the living room to the kitchen area.
“You’re up.” Jensen said softly.
“Yeah, couch wasn’t so bad.” Jared was trying not to look intimidating as he stood, trying not to scare Jensen. “Man those look bad” He said, wincing as Jensen turned to face him.
Jensen shrugged “I’ve had worse.” He said honestly. “It was just some jackass. But it’ll probably cost me at least three days work.”
Jared paused looking over at him “I don’t mean to sound like a jack ass, but are you bruised on your body”
“Yeah, but those always heal quicker, not cuts as well” He sighed, the hand not holding the orange juice gestured to his face, small triangular cuts over his cheekbones, bruises blossoming over.
Jared shifted awkwardly, his feet were covered in ragged canvas topped shoes, making them look bigger than they were. Somehow in the light of day Jensen can see that he probably made the right choice wanting Jared to protect him. There’s something about how carefully he moves, how carefully he talks that makes Jensen feel safe. Jensen can’t even remember the last time he felt almost this safe.
“You want something to eat?” Jensen asks, “I mean I don’t have much… and sorry but money’s gunna be a little tight till the bruising fades.”
Jared shrugged “I can get money.” He said it easily casual about how it would happen, even though he’d made it clear that he didn’t go down on his knees for old men.
Jensen nods, and turns back to the fridge opening it. “So, breakfast, lunch what ever this is.” He laughs awkwardly.
“Do you have any make up?” Jared asks.
Jensen turned, a bright red flush flying up his cheeks and it isn’t all embarrassment, its shame and anger mixed in. “Why would I?”
Jared smiles easily, it isn’t mocking, its trying to relax Jensen. “Cause it sucks, but it hides the bruising.” And he pushes off the wall, his hand spread and pushing off, fingers lingering, sliding against the off white of the wall. “If you want, I can help you put it on.”
And it isn’t in Jensen’s plan to learn everything about this tall boy, but he learns something then. Jared didn’t run away to piss off his parents, and no one is looking for him.
Jensen shakes his head, the ratty edges of his hair brushing against his cheekbones against the bruises. “I dun need to.” He says, unsure what their arrangement is, if Jared will kick in for the apartment or if he’ll simply follow Jensen when tricks pull up, a silent force whom Jensen can tell where he is, can show the men who pick him up that he will be missed if he doesn’t show up, that he has a 6’5 man who can hurt them waiting.
Jared nods, and smiles, falling back onto the couch. “So how’s this gunna work?”
Jensen gulps. “Well, if they want to go into the park, follow me, make sure they don’t… You know. And that they pay after.” He takes hold of his orange juice and moves over to his bed, unmade from the night before. He sits on it and looks up at Jared. “If it sounds like they’re hurting me just get me out of there.”
Jared nods, his head is slightly off the couch, long hair falling to gravities forces as blood flows to his face. “Mkay. And if they get in a car?”
Jensen gulped, “Just be there, Let them know you’ll be waiting, that I’m not alone.” The last words sounded desperate. “That someone will know. Even if they think you’re my pimp or something.”
“I’m not though” Jared said. “I just need a place to stay, not your money.”
And for a second Jensen wonders how the hell the boy survived for as long as he did. “Why you got parents to call?” He asked, angry that he could survive without, that there was a possibility that he hadn’t, that he could have been spared them men fulfilling fantasies too depraved to ask anyone who wasn’t guaranteed to agree. .
Jared snapped his head up. “If I did I wouldn’t be crashing on your couch.” He said, hair falling almost violently against his forehead.
The question hung in the air and Jensen wished he could retract it, whished he didn’t have to depend on someone else so much and that he wasn’t so many things. Jared stood up, and Jensen bit his lip stepping back against the wall. Jared towered over him, he was barely 5’10 and while it made him look younger he was also vulnerable for it. Jared just smiled.
“Sorry” He said softly and leaned against the wall. “I just… really hate pimps.”
Jensen nodded. “Yeah, they’re fucked up.”
Jared laughed, a shaky laugh which didn’t seem like it was really resonating. “The whole waiting at the bus stop thing” he said, curling his back, dropping his height a few inches. “Thinking they could get us that easy.” He shook his head, “I ‘m not your pimp. But I have no issue scaring people into thinking it.”
Jensen relaxed slightly and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” And he had the overwhelming feeling of relaxation as he smiled at Jared. “If it looks sketchy… can you… follow me?” He asked “make sure that you know where I am.”
Jared nodded and sat up “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
That night Jensen sat across for Jared, a container of make up sitting between them, Jared lightly covering the bruising on Jensen’s face with gentle fingers. “You sure you want to go out tonight.”
Jensen nodded, keeping his movements still as Jared smoothed out the chunks, his other hand holding the tube of foundation.
“Just blowjobs” He said softly “I’m gunna keep it to the park. So…”
Jared looked over his work, the dim lighting in Jensen’s apartment almost the same as the streetlights would offer in the park.
“I’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry.” Jared smiled and Jensen returned it, he could feel how large Jared’s hand was on his face, how gently he cupped his face.
“Thanks” Jensen said, still confused by the gentle touches that didn’t lead to anything, the way that Jared had simply laid out on the far too small couch instead of forcing his way into a bed. Nothing was matching up with his expectations. Nothing followed the patterns that he had figured everything followed, there were no impatient tugs on his arms causing Jensen to spill into the other man’s lap or looks sliding up and down his body as he walked. Instead there was Jared, simply sitting and being there, existing.
It was odd, odd to have someone who had no expectations on him, who didn’t want him. He didn’t remember that in this city. This city where he’d been thrown into far too young.
As he stood, later that night with his jeans far too tight and a shirt that was nearly constricting he could feel Jared’s reassuring presence never to close that he was intrusive but close enough that Jensen always felt him.
Men were rough, but nothing he couldn’t handle, they fucked his mouth, whispered the dirtiest things they could think of, talked about his lips, how they just knew. Jensen let the words wash over him, ignoring them, ignoring the men and ignoring everything around him. He knew he was part of an elaborate fantasy these men allowed themselves. That they called him those names because they had nothing else to say. That they couldn’t be sweet, be tender.
Even with the queens dancing down the streets in heels and hot pants and with the men dancing with men, grabbing each other and practically fucking on the street, this was Texas.
And Texas is nothing but repressed. Full of men who are men and who come to the parks for dirty guilty sex. Texas is full of men who stand in bathrooms sizing each other up, looking around the greyhound bus depot standing next to the pimps and collecting young boys.
And Austin, caught in the midst of music that pours out and the men who would fuck as much as fight each other. Caught between the rock and roll and free love and the country and crosses that are raised on everyone’s back. Between love and guilt. Austin, where the lost boys of Texas go. The stepping stone between Richardson and anywhere else. Fifty dollars thrown at the youth the thrown away sons of religious men.
Fifty dollars doesn’t get you much. And then full circle onto Jensen on his knees, a man thrusting into his mouth, gag reflex gone when he was fourteen, a man’s hands in his hair, kept long just because they liked it. They liked his girly mouth, his slim form, the things that got him beat by older boys when he was so much younger now sustained him, allowed him to live the life he did.
Repression causes the curses that men scream as the come to be directed not at Jensen the 16 year old twink who swallows with out thinking, they scream at themselves, wondering how the hell they can scream like this with their cock in the mouth a boy the age of their son. And they throw the money at him, angry with themselves and only able to be angry at him. Jensen doesn’t care as they jerk their pants shut and he stays on his knees and grabs the money. He can feel the bundle of bills growing in his back pocket and as he rests back on his heels, head reeling, face painfully reminded moments after of them man’s rough hands and his throat sore.
“Jensen, you have to stop now” Jared said softly, appearing and leaning against a tree that looked out onto the bushes. “Seven guys in one night., you’re hurt.”
And Jensen nods, his ribs hurt, his make up is smeared he can tell and he’s tired and Jared is right, and he knows he has to go back home and he doesn’t want to stay any longer but he can’t imagine going back. “I’ll be fine.” And he can hear how stressed his voice is and Jared can too and he gently bends down and helps Jensen up.
They walk back and it becomes a pattern, days of sleeping while the rest of the world was awake and Jared heading out, sometimes cooking, sometimes coming back with money that he wouldn’t say how he got but wouldn’t mind putting into food, and the rent and the electric bill.
Then Jared would follow him, a silent shadow, a feeling in the back of his mind a comforting feeling. He would relax a little more knowing that the other man was there. The dates he went on, sliding into lives, staying for a moment or two and then leaving his throat raw and ass sore.
Jared would walk with him home, allowing Jensen to lean against him, supporting him as they walked back. Then the day would start again with Jared quietly making breakfast far too late in the day and slipping out as Jensen sits with a book and reads, quietly.
They don’t have much to say to one another. Neither had a job they wanted to talk about, and Jensen wasn’t ever in the mood to discuss why he was here. Jared had a few anecdotes that he handed out like they were party tricks. They were light and unrevealing, stories about a neighbor who did this or that.
Jensen can’t even remember what his neighbors looked like, if they were blonde, men , women. But he remembers the feeling of normality, of the traditions that his family sat through and the way that the church pews felt after hours of jumping up and down and singing. Of the exhilaration of feeling Christ’s love which is now denied to him.
He looks up as Jared comes in, a fistful of dollar bills spilling out onto the top of the bookshelf, the now traditional dumping grounds for cash. A show of honesty that neither will take it until Jensen slides over and orders it, large bills in back, serial numbers alphabetized.
Jared doesn’t mind. They keep the money in a hollow book, Jensen doesn’t trust banks, and Jared trusts Jensen, and Jensen trusts Jared.
Jensen’s curled up on his bed, it’s a little uncomfortable, but he likes the feeling of his back against the wall and curled into the mattress his book nestled into the crook of his elbow, hair falling into his face, strands moving in time with his breath.
“What are you reading?” Jared asked suddenly sitting on the couch with a can of soda, something miraculously back in the house since two incomes were supporting them.
Jensen looked up “Robert Frost.” He said uncertainly, wondering why now of all times Jared had taken an interest, they’d sat like this for weeks, Jared eating and maybe picking up a book of his own, Jensen curled into his bed reading slowly, his lips following the words.
Jared sits forward. “That poet?” He looks interested. “Two roads in a wood…” He smiled easily, “Wait, no that’s not right” He screwed up his face slightly, his face still a grin. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference” His voice dropped slightly
Jensen blinked, flipping to that poem, he’d glanced through the poems when he’d found it in the nickel box of the book store, the line stuck out in his head. The whole imagery of the poem stuck out in his head.
“I wonder if we took to road less traveled.” Jensen said before he could stop himself. “You know leaving.”
Jared slid off the couch, his long legs nearly reaching the bottom of Jensen’s mattress. “I dunno, I remember just knowing that if I didn’t leave I would be stuck forever.” And Jared doesn’t look too angry, doesn’t look like he’s sixteen and living with a hustler because its better then living on the streets. “The poem refers to a distinct decision, of standing and looking down two paths, but I just remember more of a road, and if I stayed I’d always be there. There was only once choice.”
Jensen thinks on that. “I guess. I think about it sometimes. You know. If I hadn’t made that choice.” He thinks about other choices. Because he can’t ask Jared what he does during the day because it opens up the possibility that Jensen could have been doing that. Jensen could have changed, but fifty dollars and a one way ticket doesn’t allow him to change.
Jared looked over at Jensen “Hey, we make the choices available to us.” He says it gently, like he knows Jensen’s mind.
Jensen doesn’t know how he does it but when Jared looks at him just then he doesn’t feel so bad. Doesn’t think that Jared has ever thought badly of him has never rolled his eyes as Jensen leads a man so much older then him into the bushes. And it makes Jensen so happy to finally realize this that sits up entirely.
“So the choices we make aren’t our fault?” He can’t keep the hope from his voice.
“We’re sixteen. What choices can we have?” Jared asked.
“Thirteen.” Jensen said, “I was thirteen.”
Jared paused and looked over at Jensen. “Then they weren’t your choices to make.”
And Jensen feels absolved.
The routine changes, Jared still goes out in the mornings brings home cash which Jensen lets sit for a while before he organizes it easily. He organizes it while they talk, animated about what ever they want. Jared likes talking about the books that Jensen is reading. Starts bringing ones he likes, classics far from the realm of what Jensen was exposed to. When Jensen finds something he likes he’ll read it out loud. Jared doesn’t seem to notice the halted way that he reads.
Jensen was never the best reader in his class, instead having to go off to the side and work with a special group. But unlike the rest of the group he loved the words that he read, no matter how long it took to get them out or how annoying the order seemed to him. No one had ever talked with him about what he read like Jared did.
The words were suddenly exciting and Jensen’s ideas about them got Jared even more excited then the original. Eventually the books were discarded and the two would sit on the edge of their seats throwing ideas back and forth,
It suddenly didn’t matter that it took Jensen twice as long to read aloud as it took Jared. All that mattered was after he read. How much they could talk about.
It was weird. Jensen hadn’t ever been listened to, his family had never really been interested in books, only that their children grow up to be good Christians and Jensen ruined that. He’s never had a teacher who fostered questions and discussion. There was a science teacher, a few weeks before he left Richardson, who questioned the pastor’s daughter about creationism. But no one wanted to argue with her in class, even if Jensen had to admit that it didn’t make as much sense as evolution.
But Jared is happy to have someone to talk to, and Jensen wonders, why is he out here. Jared is smart, smart in a way Jensen never realized from their earlier conversations. Before that day, Jensen never though of Jared as anything besides the muscle that didn’t get fucked for money.
But now Jensen trusts Jared with so much more, he trusts him with the stuff he doesn’t really want to say, trusts Jared to chase after a trick who beat Jensen and refused to pay, trusts him to help Jensen walk home after being fucked so hard he doesn’t think he can walk at all, let alone properly.
Part 2