J2 Big Bang Fic: Two Cures for Love Part 1

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Two Cures for Love
     1. Don't see him. Don't phone or write a letter.
     2. The easy way: get to know him better.
~Wendy Cope

*~*

It's hot. Texas is always hot, but today Jensen's really feeling it; He-Man t-shirt sweat-sticky against the small of his back and hair curling damply at the nape of his neck.

Time for a hair cut, baby his mom had said just that morning. He'd shaken away the soft fingers running through his hair to scratch at his scalp-he was eight for cripes sake, way too old for all the hugging and petting mush his mom loved-but otherwise Jensen agreed. He's spent most of the day staring blankly at the chalkboard, Mrs. Carlyle's words filtering slow and indistinct into his brain through a mist of heat and a distant ache that started out in his head and spread down through his limbs until now even his toes hurt.

All he can think about is getting home and grabbing a soda from the fridge. Maybe he'll fill a glass with ice, drink it down with one of McKenzie's stupid crazy straws; he never admits it when she insists she can't drink her chocolate milk without one, but he thinks they're kind of cool.

The problem is that when he glances up, he sees that he's still got another four blocks to go, and thinking about the ice-cold drink has only made him even hotter.

Mitchel Harris's mom had been supposed to collect them both from school, but Mitchel had fallen off the monkey bars at recess. The sick crack of bone and the blood and snot from Mitchel's tears trickling sluggishly from his nose had nearly caused Jensen's stomach to revolt, but he'd managed to hold it back just in time.

Afterwards, everyone had been sent back to the classroom early, and Jensen guesses his ride home had been forgotten in the upheaval. By the time his muddled thinking had figured it out, he'd missed his bus, and landed himself with a forty minute walk. Normally, he can make it in twenty minutes easily if he runs, but today it's just beyond him.

Now though, legs heavy and head pounding, he wishes he'd gone back to the office, asked them to call home for him; he could already be lying in his bedroom deliciously chilled from the air conditioning and waiting for his mom to bring him his soda and a snack.

Jensen's stomach gurgles warningly. Ugh maybe not a snack.

He's lost in thought about how soon he can strip out of his sticky clothing and rest his aching legs, when a flash of light catches his attention. He pauses, glances over the high grass edging a ramshackle house, and squints into the bushes surrounding it.

The air is heavy and still, birdsong and a distant lawnmower the only sound breaking the silence. He pushes the first few spindly branches out of his way, but sees nothing, nothing that would shine like that, anyway. He's just about to turn away and restart his slow trudge for home, when the glint comes again. This time, Jensen is close enough that he knows where to focus his search.

He's buried up to his shoulders in soft grass and prickly bushes when he realizes he's caught the edge of his t-shirt on something. He tugs carefully, because it's one of his favorite t-shirts, and then more firmly when it doesn't budge. He's progressed to frantic flailing when the gleam catches his eye once more, and he freezes, eyes roving over the shadowed lumps of dirt and foliage, and there, just a fingertip further than he’s able to reach, he can see something gold and gleaming from under the cover of a huge fronded plant.

Jensen forgets all about his struggles to free himself, his aching bones and the sweat drenching him, and edges forward; right arm extended painfully, shoulder muscles screaming at the stretch until with a low, tearing sound of fabric he pulls himself loose and crawls hurriedly toward the soft light ahead.

He hesitates once he's close, and then slowly stretches his arm out, fingers ghosting over the surface of the object. It's smooth and warm to the touch, like a rock baked hot in the summer sun. He's almost got it in his grasp, pads of his fingers running curiously over it, when he feels a soft vibration start up, and jerks hurriedly back on his heels.

A thorn drags across the skin of his cheek, and Jensen hisses, bringing up his palm to press against the sore flesh, and then pulls it quickly away when the loose dirt stings the fresh cut.

The pounding in his head sparks suddenly hard and heavy and Jensen looks behind him to where he can see the sidewalk bright and inviting. It's probably just a piece of glass anyway, reflecting the sun, nothing worth getting scratched up over, and his mom's gonna be mad about his shirt too.

But then, he is already here... Jensen glances back, the gloom under the bushes seeming to lighten as he watches, and, with a shrug, he crawls forward again, more careful this time of the thorns and branches surrounding him.

When he's finally cleared a path and can see the thing fully at last, he lets out a soft sound of awe.

It's an egg. A huge one, nearly as big as the ostrich egg Daisy Allcock brought in for show and tell. There's no light coming from it now that Jensen has it fully uncovered, and he's not sure how the sun could have caused a reflection all the way back here in the first place, but the vague thought is drowned out by how pretty the egg is; misty gray at the base bleeding into soft greens and blues toward the top, and all of it glowing with a soft, lustrous sheen, like it's been varnished.

Now that he’s holding it, there’s no hint of the vibration he thought he’d felt before so he figures he must have just imagined that, too, but it's warm and heavy in his hand, fragile and solid all at once.

Jensen edges carefully back out and clambers to his feet as soon as he can stand. He feels a little dizzy from the hot, cramped jungle he's just crawled from, but the discomfort fades into the background when he gazes down at his prize.

The egg is awesome, special he's sure. At school, they've just finished a project on the rain forests. Maybe, somehow, Jensen has found a parrot egg, or something even more exotic, like a giant lizard or a crocodile! He remembers a picture of eggs soaking up the heat under a sunlamp, and wonders if maybe his bedside lamp would work, wonders if his mom would let him keep whatever hatches.

He holds the egg gently in his hand for a moment longer, feels a soft quiver against his palm, and then tucks it carefully into his backpack.

The journey home seems suddenly easy as pie.



"But, Mom, I don't want to go out and play!"

Chad isn't Jensen's favorite playmate at the best of times, but their moms are friends so Jensen often has little choice. Normally, he doesn't mind so much because Chad actually has some pretty cool toys, even if he doesn't like to share them, but he's busy right now.

Several books are spread open across his bed, his dad's encyclopedias and a couple of Josh's school science and biology books, along with some drawings he's been working on. His favorite is a bright green crocodile, scales sketched out in gold with huge brightly coloured wings spread open behind him as he swoops through a jungle forest of trees.

The egg is nestled snugly in his ruined He-Man t-shirt on Jensen's bedside table, both of his bedside lamps balanced on it and shining down brightly onto the colorful shell. His dad had helped him set it up while his mom warned him gently not to be too disappointed if it didn't hatch.

Jensen isn’t worried; his mom had refused to let him leave his lamps on all night, and despite his best arguments, she couldn't be budged. When he was sure his mom wouldn't be back in to check on him, he'd moved the egg into bed with him and slept with it tucked safely in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. The shell had felt warm and silky against his skin, and he'd woken a few times to a soft vibration rumbling through him, like when their old cat, Ming, had curled up on his lap, rasping rattle shaking his fury chest when Jensen had petted him.

Protected, safe and warm inside it's shell, Jensen knows his egg is just waiting to hatch. The only thing he isn't sure of is what it will be. He's had no luck identifying the egg, but he thinks he'd prefer a reptile of some kind to a bird, which would be kind of hard to hide. A crocodile would be best. He knows from his dad's books that caiman crocodiles inhabit the rain forest, but even dwarf caiman grow as big as 5 feet long.

His mom won't even let them get a dog; there's no way she's going to let him keep a crocodile, no matter how awesome it would be or how much he promised he would be the one to take care of it. Jensen shrugs-he'll worry about it once the egg has hatched.

The sound of the doorbell ringing sets Jensen's face into a ferocious scowl.

"That will be Chad; be nice, Jensen, you know he doesn't have many friends."

Jensen wants to tell his mom there's a reason for that, but he stifles the urge; there's every chance talking back could earn him a sleepover, and there's no way he's risking spending any more time in Chad's company than he absolutely has to.

He adjusts the lamps, wraps his t-shirt a little more securely around the egg, and looks forlornly behind him one last time before he follows his mom down the stairs.



Chad's been missing for about ten minutes when Jensen feels a weird prickle inching it's way down his spine. He looks up from the Hot Wheels cars he's been revving around the huge track they've laid out and tilts his head to one side, listening.

There's no sound coming from the kitchen where Chad had disappeared to get a soda, or from the bathroom off the family room they're currently occupying. In fact, there's no sound coming from anywhere. Jensen pushes himself up to his feet and wanders toward the kitchen; no Chad, and no sign of his mom either, just the bubbling hiss of the large soup pot on the stove.

Jensen purses his lips and considers hunting Chad down (which he knows his mom would say he should do), versus the obvious benefits of heading back to play some more without him.

He's half turned back toward the family room when a sudden thought occurs that sets Jensen's heart pounding and sends him flying away from the room and down the hallway.

"Chad! Why are you up here?" he demands breathlessly when he finds the other boy at the top of the staircase. "What were you doing?" He doesn't pause to give him chance to answer and pushes past him into his bedroom. Everything seems to be where he left it, but there's no reason for Chad to have ventured up to the first floor alone unless he'd been snooping, and Jensen swings back round, gaze fixed accusingly.

"Nothing." Chad shrugs, looking equal parts sullen and shifty. "I just came to see if you had anything we could play with, but you didn't; your toys are all lame, Jensen."

"Did you touch anything?" Jensen makes his way across his room. On his bed, his drawings are all still there, but they've definitely been moved; his box of art supplies is also looking a little worse for wear. Jensen freezes and darts over to his bed and the small table next to it. He holds his breath as he approaches and then lets out a howl of anger when he finds the t-shirt where he left it, but the egg very definitely gone.

"Where's the egg, Chad?" he shouts, rounding on Chad, who's looking more guilty by the second. "Give it back! Right now!" Jensen's chest is tight with anger and he can feel hot tears threatening, because if Chad has broken his egg...

"I don't have your stupid egg! And it's no use putting it under that dumb lamp anyway; it won't hatch. Eggs in cartons are just dead baby chickens, Jensen! My brother told me!"

"It didn't come from a carton!" Jensen chokes out. "And it isn't a chicken! It's gonna hatch into something else, a parrot or a lizard or...or something better! A crocodile!"

Chad laughs. "You're so stupid, Jensen! Crocodiles don't come from eggs."

Jensen rushes forward and shoves Chad as hard as he can. Chad stumbles and hits the floor with a thud, where he sits looking up at Jensen, his cheeks flushed red in anger. "I'm telling your mom on you! You aren't allowed to push!"

"Where's my egg!" Jensen shouts. From downstairs he can hear footsteps as his mom heads toward them. Jensen grabs the collar of Chad's shirt and shakes him. "You'd better give it back, Chad, or you'll be sorry!"

Chad pushes him off and scrambles to his feet, already running for the staircase and the safety of Jensen's mother.

"I told you, I don't have your dumb egg, Jensen. I put it somewhere safe-you should thank me, now you don't have to worry about it breaking!"

"What-" Jensen starts, but suddenly he sees again the pot bubbling furiously on the stove in the kitchen and he already knows.

~*~

"It probably wouldn't have ever hatched, baby."

Jensen buries his head in his pillow and resolutely refuses to turn round. He holds himself stiffly from the hand smoothing soft circles on his tense back.

"I bet Chad just thought he was helping-" Jensen growls low in his throat and hears his mom sigh. "Okay, okay, we don't have to talk about it right now. Your dad and I were discussing earlier though about getting you a pet. Not a dog," she adds hurriedly, "but maybe something smaller? A turtle or an iguana? I think you're old enough now to be responsible for taking care of an animal of your own, if you’d like?"

Jensen bites his lip and hunches his shoulders until his mom's hand drops away. It leaves him feeling cold and guilty when he hears her sigh again, sounding much sadder this time.

"Okay, honey, well you think about it and we can go to the pet store at the weekend if you want."

He feels the bed shift as his mom gets to her feet, and then silence as she stands there, the back of his head tingling from where he can feel her staring down at him.

"How about I take this down with me-" she begins, and Jensen flops over onto his side like a fish trapped in a net to see his mom reaching out toward his egg.

"No!" he says hurriedly, and she snatches her hand back as he grabs for the egg, back sitting nestled on his t-shirt under the darkened lamps. "I just-I may as well keep it now," he says, suddenly afraid she might insist, want to flush it down the toilet like they'd done with Mackenzie's goldfish. "Like a-a souvenir, or something."

His mom is watching him closely, worry and uncertainty warring in her expression. Jensen tries to straighten his own expression out, and it seems to work because after a minute she shrugs and reaches over to smooth her fingers through his hair again.

"I guess that would be okay." She gazes over at the egg thoughtfully. "It is unusual; such pretty patterns. I wonder what type of egg it was?" Jensen feels his lip wobble, and bites down hard on it again when his mom looks back over at him. "We could go to the library tomorrow after school and look it up. Would you like that?"

Jensen's pretty sure the only thing he'd like less is Chad being allowed back. He doesn't think he can face finding out what magical creature he nearly had.

"Thanks, mom, but you don't need to. I can check it out at the library at school-they have lots of nature books."

"That sounds good," his mom says, pleased. Jensen nods and allows her to tuck him back into bed. Even though he's much too old now to be tucked in, and he's still kind of mad with her about Chad, but his chest feels tight, achy, like when grandpa Ackles died, or when they moved from their old neighborhood to this one, and he had to leave all his friends behind. He wishes suddenly that she would sit back down on the bed, and rub his back some more until he fell asleep, but she's already heading for the door.

"Night, baby," she says.

"Night, Mom." Jensen coughs hard to cover the roughness of his voice, and then the room is plunged into darkness, only the dim glow of his nightlight left to illuminate the far side of his room. Jensen reaches over and plucks the egg from its nest and hugs it close, the shell cool and smooth against the warm skin of his neck.

Jensen closes his eyes, and lets the hot tears spill free.



Jensen wakes to a sharp pain in his side, and the sensation of sunlight burning through his closed eyelids. He feels like he's only been asleep for minutes, and he struggles blearily to surface.

"Mom," he mumbles groggily, wondering why she let him sleep so late. "Have I missed the bus?" he asks, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Except when he finally drags his eyes open, the curtains are still drawn at his windows, and the rest of the house is silent and still. What his bedroom isn't, however, is dark.

He blinks, confused, waiting for his vision to clear from what feels like the after-burn from staring too long at the sun, and pushes himself up on his elbow. He hisses when something sharp drags at the tender skin of his arm, and glances down to find he's leaning in the shattered remains of shell, the edges jagged and sharp.

Jensen lets out a soft moan of distress and begins frantically gathering the pieces together, vague thoughts of Krazy Glue running through his head. It’s clear almost immediately though that it’s an impossible task; most of the shell fragments are too small to see let alone to attempt to repair.

Jensen lets out a shuddering breath and fights down the tears he can feel building again, letting the pieces in his hand drop back down on to the bed.

The realization that maybe now he can find out what was inside the egg distracts him, but he’s still not sure whether or not he wants to know what he lost, except there isn't really a choice any more.

He sets his hands reluctantly down to begin a slow sweep of the wreckage left in his bedsheets, when a soft, chirruping sound breaks the silence. Jensen pauses, and then blinks away the still too bright light that's allowing him to carry out his search and reminding he still doesn't know where it's coming from.

Jensen lifts his gaze, nervous suddenly, and blinks bemusedly when he finds himself staring back into the slanted eyes of a tiny, green dragon peeping out at him from the corner of his bed.

It isn't a lizard, definitely not a crocodile; Jensen's spent a lot of time researching them since he found the egg, and enough time watching cartoons and fantasy shows to know the small, winged creature looks nothing like anything he's ever seen before in real life.

There's also the fact that it's glowing, a soft golden yellow shining out from it's scales, but fading away in front of him until the room is left shadowed again. Jensen lets out a shocked word that he knows his dad would tan his hide for if he heard him, and pulls himself up the bed until he's half kneeling, half standing at the head of it, clutching tight at the headboard.

"Dad!" he whisper shouts, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the creature. "Dad, can you hear me? I, there's a―just, come in! Dad? Josh!, Josh, are you awake?" he tries instead, and then clamps his mouth shut when the little creature begins working it's way over the crumpled comforter toward him.

Jensen scrambles even higher up in his bed, and grabs a pillow to brandish at the advancing-impossible-dragon. "Shoo! Get away from me!"

The dragon comes to a halt, head cocked to one side curiously, and Jensen pauses in his attempt to tunnel into the drywall.

"Jensen? he hears a voice say, and he jolts, peering into the gloom that’s fallen to track down his savior. "Jensen, what's wrong?" the voice asks, surprise and the beginnings of hurt in the tone.

"Who is it?" Jensen hisses, only half of his attention now on the dragon as he edges his leg out from under him. He’s not waiting around any longer for rescue; what if dragon bites are poisonous, like a rattlesnake. "Who's there?"

"It's me! Jared!" the voice comes again, definite hurt now. Jensen wonders if he's dreaming. "I hatched," the voice continues glumly. "Like you wanted."

Jensen collapses back down on the bed, no strength suddenly in his legs. "You're my egg? A dragon?" Jensen edges back up onto his knees, still far enough away that he can drop to the floor and make it―hopefully―to the door before the dragon gets him. But the dragon is very small. Jensen doesn't think he could eat him, and, really, how much poison could there be in such a little body? "Is that―is that really you?"

The dragon takes a few careful, stumbling steps toward him, and sinks down onto his haunches. "Yes, it’s me. I thought you’d be glad," he says glumly. His eyes, Jensen realizes, are a swirling mix of greens and blues fading into gray, just like the patterns on the shell.

"Wow," Jensen breathes. "I knew you wouldn't be a chicken!" He feels a grin creeping over him; wait till Chad finds out. "Oh, hey, how come you already have a name?" Jensen asks suddenly, a little disappointed―he'd been planning a much cooler name for whatever hatched out of his egg.

"From my shell." Jared’s little snout twitches over to his right.

Jensen frowns over at the spot Jared had indicated, and reaches down to pick up one of the few remaining larger shell fragments left there. Inside, he can see the name Jared written in a swirling golden script, that fades and reappears almost faster than he can read.

"Huh, okay," he finally concedes. Maybe Jared isn't such a terrible name.

Jared’s wings fluff out behind him. They look a little stiff, and gooey, like they're covered in slime. Jensen reaches forward to touch them, and the dragon shies away, folding them in tight against the row of quills along his spine.

"You mustn't touch," the dragon says quickly. "They have to dry first."

"Oh,right." Jensen pulls his hand back awkwardly to rub at his face. "Sorry." And now that he knows that it's the dragon talking to him, Jensen can suddenly hear him clearly, even though his mouth doesn't seem to be moving with his words. "How are you talking to me?"

"I’ve been talking to you since you found me," the dragon says, surprised. "Couldn't you hear me?"

Jensen shakes his head, and the dragon―Jared―frowns, brows crumpled in confusion or distress. It's hard to tell for sure, Jensen doesn’t have much experience with talking animals outside of cartoons, and he’s not sure a dragon even falls into that category anyway.

"But then how did you know to heat me up so I could hatch?" Jared asks, distracting Jensen from his thoughts.

"I didn't!" Jensen blurts out, anger boiling up inside him again. "Chad stole you and put you in with my mom's soup! He was trying to kill you!"

Jared suddenly seems to puff up to twice his small size, the soft little spines along his back standing upright briefly before flopping sadly back down against his scales as if they needed to dry out too.

"Then I will kill him first!"

"What?" Jensen says, suddenly cautious. "No, he's a jerk, but you can't kill him. My mom would kill me. I don't think he would have boiled you if he knew you were a dragon, anyway," Jensen admits reluctantly, because he has no doubt Chad would have stolen the egg if he'd have imagined for even a second it contained a real live dragon, especially one that belonged to Jensen. "He just thought you were a chicken."

Jared scrunches up his snout in disdain, and a tiny puff of smoke mists out from between his pursed lips. "Is he our enemy?"

"Um, yeah, I guess, but we still can't kill him," he adds hurriedly. "We can't kill anyone." Jared lets out a small growl, and Jensen grins. "You're kinda bloodthirsty, huh?"

Jared shrugs a tiny green shoulder, the look in his eye cunning. "Dragons are warriors! This Chad should be taught a lesson, and death is an excellent lesson. Are you sure we can't kill him? Just a little?"

"I'm sure," Jensen says, briefly distracted by thoughts of what being a little bit dead actually entails. "But yeah, we should teach him a lesson! He'll totally freak out when he sees you. Um, maybe you'd be scarier if you were bigger though―will you get bigger?"

"Yes! I think so. I'm not sure," Jared finally admits. "I believe my brother is big."

"Don't you know?"

"I'm newly hatched. I haven't seen any other dragons."

"But if you're only a baby then how do you know all this stuff about dragons?"

"I'm not a baby!" Jared stamps his little front legs, claws digging holes into Jensen's Batman sheets and then sinks down onto his rear end, shoulders slumped. "But I am just a hatchling. The nursery is close to the school room though, and I can hear the dragonling lessons sometimes so I know all about our history, and we are warriors!"

"Okay, okay," Jensen says quickly. He doesn't know if anyone else can hear Jared, but he's getting kind of loud now. "I believe you. Doesn't matter anyway how big you are; Chad will probably pee his pants when he sees you."

"Good, then we should go now and I will defend you from The Chad."

"I don't need defending," Jensen huffs out. "I can totally kick his ass myself!"

"You're a warrior too?" Jared asks. He looks a little unhappy at the prospect.

"Well, no, but I know how to fight. Who do dragons fight anyway? Humans?" he asks a little more cautiously.

"I don't think so," Jared says slowly. He begins pacing around the bed, wearing a little pathway as he wanders in a meandering figure of eight pattern that brings him closer to Jensen's foot. He pauses to contemplate Jensen's bare feet, and then his tongue flickers out to lick a wet stripe along his big toe. Jensen bites back an instinctive giggle and crosses his legs to tuck his feet up underneath him.

"There are no human where I come from. Not anymore."

"Where did they all go? You didn't eat them, did you?" Jensen pulls his feet a little closer to his body until not even a sliver of bare skin is within biting distance.

"Of course not! A dragon would never eat a human," Jared says as if it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "Do humans eat dragons?"

"No, dragons aren't real."

"I am very real!" Jared growls, offended, and then scampers up Jensen's leg to perch on his shoulder before Jensen can even consider pulling away. Jensen's eyes cross as he tries to focus on the little head so close to his own, and he gives up to tilt his head away so he can see all of Jared at once.

"I know! I mean, I think I know. I'm sorry," Jensen says when Jared lets out another, gruffer, growl. "It's just, this is all kind of crazy. Maybe I'm dreaming," he mumbles, the idea taking seed. "Josh says if you pinch yourself when you’re dreaming, you wake up. I don’t want you to go, but this is so weird..."

Beside him, Jared's tail thrashes and he propels himself forward, sharp little claws scratching at Jensen's collar bone until Jared is tucked in under his chin, only a flash of green at the edges of his vision, and the hot, heavy weight against his skin to to tell him were Jared is.

And then, abruptly, he knows exactly where Jared is because he feels a searing pain as Jared's sharp little teeth clamp down on the fleshy lobe of his ear. Jensen lets out a howl of protest and the pressure is gone, Jared darting back down his arm to sit gazing up at him from his thigh. There's a smear of blood on his nose and he looks exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Jared! Not cool! Why did you―" Jensen begins, but then his room is flooded with light, much brighter than when Jared had first appeared, and a sharp, screeching cry rings out.

Jensen jerks, the hand he has held up to his torn lobe shifting to cover his ears in an attempt to muffle the terrible sound. Jared is looking around, terrified, little puffs of smoke and sparks erupting from his flared nostrils. Jensen wants to reach out a hand to try to comfort him, but the sound is reverberating through his chest, making his whole body vibrate; even his teeth ache, and he can't risk moving his hands and letting any more of that horrific sound in.

In front of him, the air starts to swirl, like water draining away out of the bathtub. Jared opens his mouth wide and lets out what Jensen at first thought was a panicked screech, but that he eventually makes out over the other, louder screeching, as Jensen's own name.

Jared's eyes lock with Jensen's, bright with fear, until a blinding white explodes in front of them.

It's the last thing Jensen sees for a while.

*~*

When he next opens his eyes, he's sitting in the back of an ambulance oxygen mask clamped over his face, and the smouldering ruins of the roof of his house just visible over a uniformed shoulder.

He doesn't bother to try and explain. No one will believe him.

Chapter 2