A Summer Day - one-shot
Title: A Summer Day
Beta: unbeta'd
Rating: PG-13 (see warnings)
Genre: AU
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Spoiler/Warnings: Mentions of: drug use, non-/dub-con pornography & child abuse
Word Count: 5.900
Summary: A chance meeting at a deserted motel pool. A lesson in swimming, a white shirt and a name. Sometimes it's the small things that have the greatest impact...
A Summer Day
"We can do no great things, only small things with great love."
~ Mother Teresa
Jared
A fan rotates slowly on the ceiling. Rat… rat… rat… Dying noises. No air circulation. Jared blinks at it, disdainfully. He rises on the squeaking couch he slept on until moments before. Sweat trickles down the small of his back. The air around him is filled with heat. It seems to flicker even in the dingy motel room, making it look like the wallpaper is throwing blisters. Or maybe it really is. The curtains are drawn, a futile effort to block out the sun. The beds are made, the shoes gone. He is alone. His parents left him a note on the table.
Mornin’ Jared.
We went to town to stock up on water and
other things for the rest of the trip.
Didn’t want to wake you. We’ll be back by noon.
Left you some money for icecream.
Love, Mom
Jared lays the paper back down and picks up the money. Fetches the second key and heads out. He hadn’t thought it possible, but outside it is even worse. The Nevada sun is beating down unrelentingly on this middle-of-nowhere motel. He squints against it, as he makes his way to the small motel shop. There is no shadow in sight. A vulture circles the sky above him. The asphalt road seems as vast as the sea. Just as empty.
Jared idly kicks at the dusty ground. The sand settles quickly, not even the faintest breeze disturbing it. And still, the dry, scratchy feeling of dust in the air lingers.
He enters the small motel store. The air conditioner has given out. Flies are whirling infinite eights over some of the items on sale. Jared scrunches up his nose, walks quickly down to the back. The ice cream box is empty. He sighs, heads for the register. The hefty lady behind it looks like she’s melting. She sits, engrossed on a soap-opera on a ratty TV that has already been out dated 20 years ago. There’s a cardboard sign on the counter in scratchy handwriting. ‘No ice at all. Don’t bother askin’!’
“Super,” Jared mumbles and turns on his flip flops. The sound catches the fat lady’s attention. In the mirror above the exit, Jared can see her look at his back. Then down at his flip flops. Her eyes narrow and she sneers. Probably spotted the Nike logo on the soles.
“You got a problem?” He asks.
“With spoiled brats I sure do.” She shoots him a final, scornful look then turns back to the TV. “Get outta my store.”
Rat hole is more like it. So what if his family is doing well? Should they not enjoy the money? He flips her the double bird and exits the store backwards.
Outside he slumps against the wall, already regretting his attitude. It’s not like him. He’s a good boy. Serious about school, always nice, always polite, always helpful. But the heat and boredom have gotten to him. Lately, he feels like his live isn’t going anywhere. Not that it hasn’t all been planed out: after school on to Harvard, then join his Dad’s business. Take it over after he retires. Retire at 65, himself, hand it over to his own son (or daughter). Eventually die in his bed next to his wife. Be mourned and missed by children and grandchildren. The end.
But he is about to start his freshmen year of high school and the story begins to feel like a movie script. It’s not a bad one. He just isn’t sure he wants the part anymore. He’s starting to feel dead before his life has even started. He feels like he’s missing something in the grand scheme of things.
Weary, Jared pushes off the wall and stumbles back to the room. His eyes land on the sign pointing to the motel adjacent pool. Might as well try it. Not that he has much hope of the pool being filled with anything, much less water. He was against spending the night here, anyway. But his Dad said the hotels in town were too far from their route. Now they had gone to town anyway.
In the room he quickly changes into his swimming trunks. Armed with a too warm soda, a towel and white velvet shirt for later, he goes out the back door. The pool area isn’t all that big. Just the size of a large private pool, about 20 by 40 feet, but at least there seems to be clean water in the pool. The chairs can’t account for that much. Jared picks the most clean looking one, takes a sip from the already stale tasting soda then dumps his stuff.
He is alone out here, except for another boy about four or five years older than him. The guy sits at the far end of the pool, dangling his feet and calves in the water. Jared nods at him. The guy returns the greeting with a brief, lopsided smile. Then resumes staring at the water.
Jared keeps an eye on him, as he slowly descends a ladder into the pool. The guy is pale, his skin lightly freckled. He wears plaid shorts that look like they’ve seen better days. So does the guy. Jared can spot bruises all over the guy’s torso. The crooks of both his elbows are almost black, marred with needle marks. Jared has never seen someone this careless about displaying himself as a junkie. Then again, he has never seen a junkie at all. But the guy doesn’t seem dangerous or wacky. Just weary. Sad. Under dirty blonde hair, in a cut that tries hard to be a fake-Mohawk but fails, sits a hollow face. He is thin, almost skinny. His eyes, underlined with dark shadows, stare into nothingness. He looks about close to the end of his life. Or maybe it ended a long time ago. Suddenly Jared feels silly for complaining about his life. But underneath the battered features, something else is visible. Symmetric bone structure. High cheeks, straight nose. Strong jawline. More freckles. Indicators of boyish handsomeness beaten into submission. A star whose light never reached the earth.
Once he’s entirely in the water, Jared pushes off the edge and dips under. Blends out the guy and enjoys the touch of the water on his skin.
Jensen
Jensen chews the inside of his cheeks. One of his teeth aches. He flicks at it with his tongue. It’s loose. He rocks it in rhythm with his heels that he drums against the pool wall.
One, two, one, two… A kid shows up at the other end. Jensen follows his movements from the corner of his eyes. The kid sees him. Acknowledges his presence. Jensen gives a tilted smile.
The kid is drenched in sweat. It glitters on his body in the sunlight. He’s got a nice body. Young, about 15 or 16. Smooth, tanned skin. Muscular. On top of that, a smart face. Bright eyes, fluffy brown hair. A constant smile on his face that he seems unaware off. Jensen doesn’t think it’s a mask. He knows masks.
He watches the kid swim rounds along the wall of the pool. But only to the middle, then the kid crosses to the other side. Keeps his distance or doesn’t want to disturb him. Jensen doesn’t know. He scratches at his elbows. It’s almost time, but he doesn’t want to go back in. Roy’s still sleeping. Jensen rarely gets to enjoy some peace and quiet.
He plucks a bended pack of smokes from his back pocket, lights one and sets the tools down next to him. Contents himself with the smoke filling his lungs. It calms him somewhat. Delays the inevitable by maybe five more minutes.
The kid looks calm as he swims. Graceful as he dives. Purposeful as he does his rounds. Like he’s swimming towards something.
Jensen gives a sad smile. He’s more of an in the moment kind of guy. Not much future left, anyway. So why not enjoy what he’s got? He takes another drag of the smoke. It suddenly tastes bitter.
Jared
After a while Jared notices the guy is watching him. He lit himself a cigarette. When he sucks on it his cheeks hollow out even further.
Jared does some more rounds. Dives under again. The eyes of the guy keep following him. Their look is of curiosity. Tinged with a sadness that seems to be chronic.
Jared wads to the middle of the pool. “Why don’t you come in? It’s nice.”
The guy seems startled at first, apparently not expecting to be addressed. He averts his face. Shrugs. Another drag on the smoke, then on the exhale, “I can’t swim.”
Jared is surprised at the mellow rumble of the guy’s familiar Texan drawl. A singer’s voice. But on the last word, his voice cracked, coming out hoarse. Jared notices purple stripes on the guy’s throat. Tries not to imagine what happened there.
On a whim, Jared says, “I can teach you.”
That gets him wary attention. The guy looks at him sideways. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jared says and leans backwards, floating, toes poking through the surface.
The guy licks his lips. Raw at the corners but otherwise they look full and smooth. “You ain’t gonna drown me, are ya’?”
Jared shakes his head, laughs. Thinks it’s a joke. It’s not. He sets his feet back on the ground, stands up straight. The water reaches just up to his chest. “No, I won’t.”
The guy eyes him suspiciously. Then nods and stubs out his smoke. “Alright, what the hell‘s it matter anyway...”
Jensen
He slowly lowers himself into the water. His arms tremble under the strain of his own weight. But once he’s completely in, it’s worth it. He feels light, wriggles his toes on the ground. The water is nice against his heated skin. A shiver even goes through his body.
“Don’t be scared,” the kid says. “I got you.” He has inched closer, hands reaching out for him. The kid’s tall for his age.
“I ain’t scared of nothin’,” Jensen snaps. He’s not.
“Alright, alright,” the kid says, softly. He’s still holding out his hands. “So, are you coming or what?”
Jensen hesitates. Then slowly lifts his hands. The kid takes them and gently pulls him along. When they’re standing a bit more freely, the kid releases his hands. “Okay,” he says, smiling ever so happily. Like they’re friends and this is what they do all the time. Jensen likes that thought.
“So, what now?” He asks.
“Now I’ll show you how you have to move your arms for swimming.” The kid lifts his hands to his chest and puts them together, palm side. “You fold them, a little like for prayer.”
“I ain’t no prayer.”
“It’s just a comparison.”
“A what?” Jensen blinks. The kid shakes his head at him, grinning. He doesn’t seem arrogant, though. A little amused, but still patient. “A comparison. It means something is or looks or behaves like something else,” he explains. “It means you don’t have to be a prayer to fold your hands like that.”
“Uh-huh,” Jensen mumbles. He folds his hands in front of his chest like the kid did.
“Very good,” the kid praises. Jensen nods. It’s a rare sensation. He feels a little awkward about it. “Now,” the kid goes on, oblivious, and moves a step back. “You point them forward and cut them through the water like an arrow.” He demonstrates it, a little too roughly and water splatters on Jensen’s face. He startles, blinks the droplets from his eyelashes. The kid is smiling, apologetically. “Sorry.”
Jensen grins. He imitates the kid’s move and splatters his face in turn. “Like that?”
“Yeah.” The kid laughs. “Just like that.” He flips some wet hair from his forehead. Droplets of water fly off into the sky. Glittering like jewels. TV-commercial style. Jensen would buy the product on the spot. Steal it, if he had to, which he probably would…
“Okay, seriously, now.” The kid repeats the arrow movement, slower this time. The pointy knuckles of his thumb remind Jensen of a shark fin. “Cool,” he whispers.
The kid straightens. Smiling. It’s shining brighter than the sun. “Okay, you try it.”
Jensen does. First the prayer, then the arrow and the shark fin. He frowns. “That ain’t swimmin’ yet.”
“Slow the horses, cowboy,” the kid says, claps a hand on his shoulder. Jensen stares at it. People like that kid, they don’t touch him. Usually.
“What?” The kid asks off his look.
“You ain’t scared you gonna get yourself a disease or something?”
“From touching your skin?” The kid laughs like he just said something dumb. “Please. As long as you got no oozing eczema where I touch, I’ll be fine.”
Jensen only understands half the words the kid’s saying, but that’s okay. Bottom line is, this good ol’ poster boy’s not disgusted.
“’kay then,” he says.
The kid nods. “So, after the shark fin,” off Jensen’s look, “you mumbled doing the movements. Anyway, after the shark fin, you push like this…”
Jensen watches as the kid does the shark fin, then at the peak turns his palms outside and opens his arms. “Like…” The kid trails off, looking for another what’s-it-called. Then he smiles. “Like pushing open a saloon door.”
Jared
The guy’s face lights up at that. “I seen that on TV. John Wayne, thank you ma’am.” He mimics a gun pointing and shooting.
“Exactly,” Jared laughs, and pretends to be shot. He falls backwards into the water.
When he comes back up, the guy is smiling widely. A couple teeth are missing. Most of the others yellowed by nicotine. The expression still makes him look lighter, younger. More alive. Jared strangely finds himself drawn in by the holey smile. Returns it. Then he motions at the guy.
“Now, show me what you got.”
The guy takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself. Deep concentration lines etch into his forehead. He executes the movements slowly, with the focus and intensity of a cardiac surgeon. But it seems like he’s got some problems to get his mind to work properly. His coordination is slightly askew. Jared wonders if he’s always been like that, or if it’s the drugs.
It makes for a strange picture. But Jared waits patiently, watches on through 20 repetitions until the guy’s movement become fluid. The guy even stops mumbling his mnemonic.
“Alright.” Jared grabs his hands, stills them. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”
Another holey smile. The guy’s weezing slightly, his chest falling and rising faster, a little out of breath, already. The hands feel fragile in Jared’s. Before he realizes it, he squeezes them gently. Protectively.
Jensen
He tries to catch his breath. Doubts he succeeds. Blackness closes in at edge of his vision. Everything narrows down to the kid. His bloodless hands warm in the kid’s. It grounds him. He still feels that itch… that damn monkey grow heavy on his back. For the first time in a long time Jensen hates himself for it.
“Wanna take a break?” The kid asks. Jensen nods slowly. Glances at the door to his room. Wonders if he could sneak in and out for a shot. Wonders if he’d make it out before the kid leaves. Probably not. He opts for another cigarette. He walks over to the edge, pulls one out. The kid follows him.
“Want one?” Jensen shoves a smoke between his lips. Holds the pack out for the kid. He shakes his head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Jensen shrugs, dumps the pack on the floor. “Suit ya’self.” He lights his own. Inhales deep. Some of the crawling underneath his skin dies down. He closes his eyes for a moment. Rests his head in his hand.
“So, what’s your deal?”
Jensen blinks one eye open. The kid is leaning back against the edge of the pool, propped up on his elbows. Casually curious. Calm.
“What do ya’ mean?”
“Did you honestly think I didn’t notice the bruises?”
“Thought I gottaway without talkin’ ‘bout ‘em.” He suckles on his smoke, smiles around it. The kid returns it. Then turns to face him. Serious now. “So, will you tell me?”
Jensen hesitates. Looks the kid over. He doesn’t waver, just waits. Jensen sighs, cards a hand through his hair. “I get fucked on camera. In more ways than one.” He laughs, dryly. Coughs. His throat scratches. He clears it. A beat then the kid says, “Like in porn?”
Jensen nods.
“Wow. Didn’t expect that.”
“Tell me about it.” He stubs out his smoke. Rests his head on his forearms. “Back when, they told me I’d be a movie star.”
The kid watches him for a while. Then his gaze drops. “How old were you?”
Jensen rubs at his temple. “About thirteen. I think.”
“What about your parents?”
Jensen snorts. “They died when I was little. Like four or something.”
“I’m sorry.” A hand touches Jensen’s shoulder. He looks up at the kid. His mouth keeps spouting words on its own.
“ ‘s not so bad… Was in and out of a lot of foster homes. Sometimes I acted up and they gave me back. Sometimes they gave me back just ‘cause. Sometimes they hit me. Sometimes they came to my bed. The last ones were nice, though. Until they got a baby. A real one. I tried to help, be good. But I bothered them. So I left. Hoped they would come for me. They didn’t.” Jensen pauses. “But I’m fine now.” He wants to smile but it doesn’t come. Suddenly the kid’s arms wrap around him.
Jared
The guy’s definitely not fine. He’s crying without noticing. Jared feels a shiver run down his spine despite the heat. He can’t stand it. He reaches out, envelopes the guy in a hug. There’s surprise in his sunken, red rimmed eyes. Then just sadness as he sags against Jared. He feels a sudden white hot surge of anger at the system. It’s supposed to make a difference. Of the good kind. Not like this.
He wonders how many people even know his story. Has the sinking feeling he’s the first one who heard it. The first one who listened.
They stand together, frozen in time. Entangled like the roots of ornamental plans. Jared wonders if the guy will ever get the opportunity to blossom.
He grabs the guy by the shoulders. Pushes him back to lock their eyes. “You are older, now. You can get help.”
Jensen scoffs. “No way. I get fucked one way or another. At least Roy lets me shoot my mind to heaven beforehand.”
“He got you hooked on this?”
“Not many other ways to keep a kid from screaming when it gets DP’d.”
“What’s DP?”
“When you get fucked by two guys at the same time.”
Jared wishes he hadn’t asked. Bile rises in his throat.
“I know I’m on a leash,” the guy says. Scratches on his elbow. “But it’s a long one. He lets me do most of what I want when I want.”
“Because he knows you’ll be back.”
The guy nods. “It’s a symbosis.”
“Symbiosis,” Jared mumbles. “And it’s not. Not really.”
“Whatever.” The guy claps his hands. “What’s after the saloon door?”
Jared needs a beat to catch up on the sudden change of topic. He sighs. Turns to grab the edge of the pool. “All that’s left is to kick your feet.” He lifts them up, stretches out long and demonstrates it.
The guy watches him intently. The tip of his tongue pokes out. Wets his lips, then it comes to rest in the left corner. Jared stops.
“I can do that,” the guy says.
“Good.” Jared waits for him to start trying it. Then pulls himself out of the pool and gets his soda. The guy seems so focused on kicking his feet, he doesn’t even notice Jared’s gone. But he stops, breathing hard, when Jared sits down in the same position he had when they met. The guy looks up. Jared tilts the bottle against his lips, takes a swig. Holds the soda out for the guy. “You want some?”
The guy takes it, wraps his lips around the rim and drinks. All the while his eyes never leave Jared. When he hands the bottle back, Jared wipes the rim casually and takes another drink.
“You’re not like the others,” the guy says.
Jared shrugs. “I like you.”
“My point.” But the guy smiles widely. Crinkles form around his eyes. It lightens his face. If not for the missing teeth, he’d look like the boy next door.
Jared laughs softly and sinks back into the water. Wordlessly, they line up next to each other. In sync they start kicking at the water. They start laughing for no other reason than fun.
Jensen
It’s fun. Real fun. He likes that tall kid, too. Finds himself wishing for the moment to last forever. But the darkness creeps back into his vision. His feet grow heavy. He lets them sink. Drops his head. Breathes. Just breathes.
Then, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Present, caressing. Casual. Slowly, he lifts his head back up. There’s still no hidden agenda in the kid’s eyes.
“You okay?” He asks.
No, he’s not. He’s hungry. He needs a shot. Isn’t sure he can tough it out until they’re through with this. He glances at the door to his room. Then back at the kid.
His face is all open. Like some puppy, he’s waiting for Jensen’s answer. Jensen realizes he’s in control here. It’s a bit overwhelming. He glances once more at the door. Scratches at his elbow. He could go. He really could. But he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to. Turns back to the kid, instead. “Can I have some more soda?” He needs something sweet, at least.
“Yeah, sure.” The kid readily hands him the bottle. “Drink as much as you want.” Then, like he really doesn’t know Jensen’s in dire need of a hit, he says, “it’s pretty hot. Wouldn’t want you to dehydrate.”
Jensen nods. Drinks a lot, but stops himself before finishing it. “You too.”
“Sure.” The kid takes the bottle from him, chugs back the rest. Jenen watches as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down on each swallow.
“Alright,” the kid says. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jensen startles from his fantasy. “Now, let’s see if we can put those moves together.” He smacks a hand on Jensen’s shoulder again. “You’ll swim like a fish in no time, you’ll see.” The kid’s pretty touchy-feely. Jensen’s just surprised. It’s the first time he doesn’t mind.
When the kid helps him float in the water, his hands a gentle support, it’s better than drugs. If only his body would agree with him…
Jared
The guy swims towards him. He’s in a bit of a struggle, strength wise. He makes up for it with determination. A few minutes ago, he looked like he needed a hit badly. Jared thought he’d leave. But he didn’t. Mind over matter. Jared knows it won’t last much longer, but for now, the guy is here and not there.
He stretches out his hands, proud of him. “You’re doing great, just a little further.” The guy’s head bobs under water. Jared cringes. “No worries, it’s okay,” The guy comes back up sputtering. Jared watches, attentively. The guy hasn’t set foot on the ground, yet. He’s still swimming.
“Just three more strokes… two… one…” Their fingers touch. Jared grabs them tight, pulls. The guy comes up straight. Smiling, laughing, he falls in close. Their lips meet. They kiss.
It happens unintended, natural. It feels natural. Meant to be. Underneath the surface, their fingers are entangled. Jared’s eyes slip shut. He hums softly as their bodies line up.
What they do is languid, gentle. Maybe a little shy. When he pulls back, he squeezes their entwined fingers tenderly. Laughs, amazed. The guy stares at him like he just found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Looks at him like he’s the best thing in the world. In the whole universe. Jared averts his eyes, sheepish. “That was my first kiss.”
“’t was my first kiss, too.” The guy pauses. “I mean, kissing someone I want to.”
Jared leans his temple against the guy’s. Sighs heavily. Then whispers, “wanna do it again?”
The guy gives his hands a squeeze. Turns his head until their mouths meet again. Jared watches his eyelids close. Enjoying the moment.
Jensen
He wonders if he’s not really here. If he took his golden shot and went to heaven. But that can’t be true. He ain’t going to no heaven if he dies. He’ll just rot wherever he drops.
But that means this is real. Everything he’s feeling is real and right there. Lips softer and gentler than any other he knows. Shy and curious instead of demanding.
For the first time he feels warmth instead of greed. Emotions instead of professionalism. If you can call it that. Jensen’s sure it’s just a fancy word Roy and his men use. They all get their rocks of on fucking him and others in front of a camera.
But this kid is different. He’s allowing Jensen to lean onto him when they kiss. Their chests align and their heart beats become one. Eventually they part their lips. The kid’s lips are plump, red and shining like rubies. His eyes are heavy, pupils blown as he rides the high of the kiss.
Jensen giggles, doesn’t like to admit it, but he does. He’s fucking giddy, is what he is. He wraps his arms around the kid’s neck and holds on. And the best thing is, the kid doesn’t protest. Even hooks his own arms under Jensen’s, wraps them around him, supportive. Caressing his back.
The air around them is sizzling. The sun is high, it’s almost noon. Jensen never liked these days. When the guys come to him, sweating like pigs, and their skin gets glued to his. It’s always disgusting. Even a hit only enough to make him able to stand it. Never enough to make it good. But now, he doesn’t want to let go. Wishes the heat to melt their skins together.
Amazed he notices a fluttering feeling in his gut. Like he swallowed a bucket of living butterflies. Like a good trip, but without the H.
He grins stupidly to himself. Clings tighter to the tall kid. It’s a nice feeling.
Jared
Eventually, when the skin between them starts feeling icky after all, they pull apart. Not far though. Some parts are always touching. Hands and fingers mostly. Shoulders brushing. A gentle caress that sneaks in when they start romping about in the water.
The guy is laughing a lot now. It’s a beautiful sound. Full and resonating someplace deep. Jared’s unable not to join in. They splash each other with water. Dance around one another. Move in. Kiss. Move back. Hands tangling, tugging and shoving. Bantering like they’ve known each other for ages.
The guy seems to have forgotten everything around him. Jared wonders if that includes the drugs. If that’s even possible. The guy sure looks like it is, all carefree now. Fooling around.
It’s a damn good time they’re having. When the guy gets him into a playful neck hold, it’s over though. Jared spots a man in a doorway. Cheesy skin, sweaty and with thick, dark hair plastered to his potbelly. A pair of boxers rests underneath the curve. A Hawaii shirt falls open, hangs wide around his skinny arms. He’s leaning against the doorframe, a curious expression on his face. His eyes are squinted against the sun. He’s staring at them.
Jared stops mock struggling in the guy’s hold. The guy laughs, once more, and the beautiful sound echoes in Jared’s ears. “You giving up?”
But Jared doesn’t reply. Could that man in the doorway be Roy? He gets the answer when the guy loosens his hold. Sinks down beside him and the man straightens. Nods at the room.
The guy glances at Jared. A hand moves to the crook of his elbow. He scratches at the marred flesh.
“Gotta go,” he says. His voice isn’t without sadness.
Jared nods. “I know.” The world’s come crashing down on them.
He moves with the guy to the edge of the pool. Helps him out. They hug once more. Kiss, once, twice… three times before they manage to pull apart. The guy turns and goes, fingers slowly slipping from their grasp. Then Jared sees the red burn on his back. “Wait,” he calls.
The guy turns back. Jared rushes to where he dumped his stuff. Picks up his white, velvet button down and goes to lay it across the guy’s shoulders. “You’ve got fair skin,” he whispers, smoothes out imaginary crinkles along the guy’s arms. “Wouldn’t want you to get melanoma.”
“What?”
“Skin cancer.”
The guy flinches. “That’d suck.”
“Wouldn’t it?” Jared smiles.
“Hey, boy,” the man calls. They both turn to him. He’s been quiet so far. Non-threatening. But he’s not exactly what Jared would call sympathetic either.
Roy scratches at his crotch. “You’re a pretty one. Looking for a job? I can make you a movie-star.”
Nausea rises in Jared. “No thanks.”
“Leave him alone, Roy,” the guy says, wearily. He steps towards the man.
Roy just shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
The guy gives Jared a last wave of the hand. Then, clinging to the white shirt, he disappears into his room.
“Nice to meet you,” Jared whispers, staring after the closed door. “I’m Jared. What’s your name?”
Jensen
Inside the room, Jensen tosses and turns idly on the bed. Roy’s setting up cameras. Even a fancy light and some filters. Jensen wonders if he cut short on the money for H. Or if he stole that stuff somewhere.
“You a real director, now?” Jensen asks.
Roy chugs a wooden dildo at him. It hits him right in the forehead. Jensen chuckles, rubs the spot. Next to him on the bed, his co-star snores. Fast asleep. He’s a big fella. Jensen irks at the thought. Turns away, onto his side. “Hey, Roy...” he drawls. “Can I have some more?”
The Bastard shakes his head. “Need you in this, boy.”
“Uh-huh…” he mumbles. Snuggles into the velvet shirt.
“That’s a good one,” Roy says. “I like that shirt. You keep it on. Makes you look all innocent and shit.”
“…and shit,” Jensen repeats. Curls his fingers in the fabric. He’s never gonna take it off again. “I ain’t no shit.”
A beat. Then Roy says, “Whatever. And do that laugh you did with that boy in the pool.”
Jensen stares up at Roy. “Huh…?”
His sight’s not exactly clear, but it looks like Roy is blushing. Jensen smiles goofily. Then something filters through the haze in his mind. Something from outside. Voices. A family, loading a car.
He sits up. Tugs the white shirt around him. Forces himself to think for a moment. Hand outstretched he turns to Roy. “Gimme a pen and some paper.”
Roy snorts. “What for?”
“Jus’ gimme.”
A sweaty hand taps against his back. Neil’s woken up. Produced a pen from somewhere. “Got no paper, though.” He yawns. Jensen picks the pen from his sausage fingers.
Roy nods at the table behind him. “Motel pad’s here.”
“Thanks,” Jensen says. Rips of the top sheet. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Jared
Inside the car, Jared leans against the door. His sister is chatting animatedly with his big brother. Jared drones out the noise. Stares out of the window at the room the guy vanished into. Jared strokes his thumb slowly over his lips. He misses the guy already.
Jared sighs. He doesn’t even know his name. Then the door opens and there he is. Still in the same ratty pair of shorts. Bare feet, he’s running towards his car. The tails of his white shirt fly behind him.
Jared straightens in his seat. Beaming. His parents get into the front seats.
A moment later, the guy skitters to a halt at his window. He’s pale, pupils not bigger than pinpoints and sweating. He’s still the most beautiful person Jared’s ever seen. The guy stretches out his balled up hand. Jared’s Dad turns on the ignition.
“Thanks for teaching me swimming,” the guy says. Jared holds up his palm and the guy drops a folded piece of paper into it. “’s all I got.”
“Thank you,” Jared whispers. Curls his fingers around it. Lets their tips brush against the guy’s palm before he can pull his hand back.
“Jared?” His Dad asks. All of his family is staring at him.
“I…” he starts. He doesn’t want to leave. Not without him. But the guy claps a hand on the car. Says, “Sir,” and walks a few steps back. Jared stares after him. He’s waving, says, “Bye, Jared,” as the car rolls off the lot.
A tear rolls down Jared’s cheek. He sucks in a rattling breath. Unfolds the paper. In childish handwriting it only states a name: Jensen Ackles.
“It’s all he got,” Jared mumbles.
After a moment, his brother turns to look at him. “Wasn’t that guy wearing your shirt?”
Jared doesn’t respond. He looks back down at the slip of paper. At the name. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Hey, Dad.”
“Yes?”
With steel in his voice, Jared says, “Sorry, but I’ve made a change to my career plans.”
10 years later…
Jared
A fan rotates rhythmically on the ceiling. Rat, rat, rat… Soft noises. Faint air circulation. Jared blinks at it, disgruntled. He straightens, leans forward, away from the back of his leather desk chair. Sweat makes his tailored suit stick to the small of his back.
Despite the breeze he is still sweating like a hooker in church. He remembers that day, a decade ago. Never forgot about it, really, but on days like these it’s like he’s back at that motel. Back at that pool. Back with him.
From the top drawer of his large mahogany desk, he fishes the slip of paper he received that day. The edges are frazzled. The motel logo faded out. The name on it merely a ghostly shadow. He sighs. Lifts it to his lips. Closes his eyes for a moment. Pictures Jensen Ackles, the tails of a white, velvet shirt flattering behind him as he’s running. Running for Jared. But in Jared’s dreams Jensen never reaches him… He has woken up with tears in his eyes more than once. Never stopped him from looking for Jensen, though.
Then, a knock on his door. Madeleine, his secretary enters. Late fifties, a shock of grey hair. Big bosom, wide hips. Female curves and gentle eyes. The motherly type. Jared had picked her exactly for that. With her credentials it was a no-brainer. He couldn’t have been happier with her the past few years. Neither could his clients. Instant comfort. An image of a welcoming home, something most of them don’t have.
She is slightly winded. Face serious. An air of grave importance fills the room. Jared grows attentive behind his desk. Becomes worried. He sets down the slip of paper, spreads his palms flat on the cool mahogany.
Madeleine takes a deep breath. Inclines her head slightly, looks at him over the rim of her glasses. Then she says, “They found him.”
~FIN
Sequel: Summer Days
Beta: unbeta'd
Rating: PG-13 (see warnings)
Genre: AU
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Spoiler/Warnings: Mentions of: drug use, non-/dub-con pornography & child abuse
Word Count: 5.900
Summary: A chance meeting at a deserted motel pool. A lesson in swimming, a white shirt and a name. Sometimes it's the small things that have the greatest impact...
A Summer Day
"We can do no great things, only small things with great love."
~ Mother Teresa
Jared
A fan rotates slowly on the ceiling. Rat… rat… rat… Dying noises. No air circulation. Jared blinks at it, disdainfully. He rises on the squeaking couch he slept on until moments before. Sweat trickles down the small of his back. The air around him is filled with heat. It seems to flicker even in the dingy motel room, making it look like the wallpaper is throwing blisters. Or maybe it really is. The curtains are drawn, a futile effort to block out the sun. The beds are made, the shoes gone. He is alone. His parents left him a note on the table.
Mornin’ Jared.
We went to town to stock up on water and
other things for the rest of the trip.
Didn’t want to wake you. We’ll be back by noon.
Left you some money for icecream.
Love, Mom
Jared lays the paper back down and picks up the money. Fetches the second key and heads out. He hadn’t thought it possible, but outside it is even worse. The Nevada sun is beating down unrelentingly on this middle-of-nowhere motel. He squints against it, as he makes his way to the small motel shop. There is no shadow in sight. A vulture circles the sky above him. The asphalt road seems as vast as the sea. Just as empty.
Jared idly kicks at the dusty ground. The sand settles quickly, not even the faintest breeze disturbing it. And still, the dry, scratchy feeling of dust in the air lingers.
He enters the small motel store. The air conditioner has given out. Flies are whirling infinite eights over some of the items on sale. Jared scrunches up his nose, walks quickly down to the back. The ice cream box is empty. He sighs, heads for the register. The hefty lady behind it looks like she’s melting. She sits, engrossed on a soap-opera on a ratty TV that has already been out dated 20 years ago. There’s a cardboard sign on the counter in scratchy handwriting. ‘No ice at all. Don’t bother askin’!’
“Super,” Jared mumbles and turns on his flip flops. The sound catches the fat lady’s attention. In the mirror above the exit, Jared can see her look at his back. Then down at his flip flops. Her eyes narrow and she sneers. Probably spotted the Nike logo on the soles.
“You got a problem?” He asks.
“With spoiled brats I sure do.” She shoots him a final, scornful look then turns back to the TV. “Get outta my store.”
Rat hole is more like it. So what if his family is doing well? Should they not enjoy the money? He flips her the double bird and exits the store backwards.
Outside he slumps against the wall, already regretting his attitude. It’s not like him. He’s a good boy. Serious about school, always nice, always polite, always helpful. But the heat and boredom have gotten to him. Lately, he feels like his live isn’t going anywhere. Not that it hasn’t all been planed out: after school on to Harvard, then join his Dad’s business. Take it over after he retires. Retire at 65, himself, hand it over to his own son (or daughter). Eventually die in his bed next to his wife. Be mourned and missed by children and grandchildren. The end.
But he is about to start his freshmen year of high school and the story begins to feel like a movie script. It’s not a bad one. He just isn’t sure he wants the part anymore. He’s starting to feel dead before his life has even started. He feels like he’s missing something in the grand scheme of things.
Weary, Jared pushes off the wall and stumbles back to the room. His eyes land on the sign pointing to the motel adjacent pool. Might as well try it. Not that he has much hope of the pool being filled with anything, much less water. He was against spending the night here, anyway. But his Dad said the hotels in town were too far from their route. Now they had gone to town anyway.
In the room he quickly changes into his swimming trunks. Armed with a too warm soda, a towel and white velvet shirt for later, he goes out the back door. The pool area isn’t all that big. Just the size of a large private pool, about 20 by 40 feet, but at least there seems to be clean water in the pool. The chairs can’t account for that much. Jared picks the most clean looking one, takes a sip from the already stale tasting soda then dumps his stuff.
He is alone out here, except for another boy about four or five years older than him. The guy sits at the far end of the pool, dangling his feet and calves in the water. Jared nods at him. The guy returns the greeting with a brief, lopsided smile. Then resumes staring at the water.
Jared keeps an eye on him, as he slowly descends a ladder into the pool. The guy is pale, his skin lightly freckled. He wears plaid shorts that look like they’ve seen better days. So does the guy. Jared can spot bruises all over the guy’s torso. The crooks of both his elbows are almost black, marred with needle marks. Jared has never seen someone this careless about displaying himself as a junkie. Then again, he has never seen a junkie at all. But the guy doesn’t seem dangerous or wacky. Just weary. Sad. Under dirty blonde hair, in a cut that tries hard to be a fake-Mohawk but fails, sits a hollow face. He is thin, almost skinny. His eyes, underlined with dark shadows, stare into nothingness. He looks about close to the end of his life. Or maybe it ended a long time ago. Suddenly Jared feels silly for complaining about his life. But underneath the battered features, something else is visible. Symmetric bone structure. High cheeks, straight nose. Strong jawline. More freckles. Indicators of boyish handsomeness beaten into submission. A star whose light never reached the earth.
Once he’s entirely in the water, Jared pushes off the edge and dips under. Blends out the guy and enjoys the touch of the water on his skin.
Jensen
Jensen chews the inside of his cheeks. One of his teeth aches. He flicks at it with his tongue. It’s loose. He rocks it in rhythm with his heels that he drums against the pool wall.
One, two, one, two… A kid shows up at the other end. Jensen follows his movements from the corner of his eyes. The kid sees him. Acknowledges his presence. Jensen gives a tilted smile.
The kid is drenched in sweat. It glitters on his body in the sunlight. He’s got a nice body. Young, about 15 or 16. Smooth, tanned skin. Muscular. On top of that, a smart face. Bright eyes, fluffy brown hair. A constant smile on his face that he seems unaware off. Jensen doesn’t think it’s a mask. He knows masks.
He watches the kid swim rounds along the wall of the pool. But only to the middle, then the kid crosses to the other side. Keeps his distance or doesn’t want to disturb him. Jensen doesn’t know. He scratches at his elbows. It’s almost time, but he doesn’t want to go back in. Roy’s still sleeping. Jensen rarely gets to enjoy some peace and quiet.
He plucks a bended pack of smokes from his back pocket, lights one and sets the tools down next to him. Contents himself with the smoke filling his lungs. It calms him somewhat. Delays the inevitable by maybe five more minutes.
The kid looks calm as he swims. Graceful as he dives. Purposeful as he does his rounds. Like he’s swimming towards something.
Jensen gives a sad smile. He’s more of an in the moment kind of guy. Not much future left, anyway. So why not enjoy what he’s got? He takes another drag of the smoke. It suddenly tastes bitter.
Jared
After a while Jared notices the guy is watching him. He lit himself a cigarette. When he sucks on it his cheeks hollow out even further.
Jared does some more rounds. Dives under again. The eyes of the guy keep following him. Their look is of curiosity. Tinged with a sadness that seems to be chronic.
Jared wads to the middle of the pool. “Why don’t you come in? It’s nice.”
The guy seems startled at first, apparently not expecting to be addressed. He averts his face. Shrugs. Another drag on the smoke, then on the exhale, “I can’t swim.”
Jared is surprised at the mellow rumble of the guy’s familiar Texan drawl. A singer’s voice. But on the last word, his voice cracked, coming out hoarse. Jared notices purple stripes on the guy’s throat. Tries not to imagine what happened there.
On a whim, Jared says, “I can teach you.”
That gets him wary attention. The guy looks at him sideways. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jared says and leans backwards, floating, toes poking through the surface.
The guy licks his lips. Raw at the corners but otherwise they look full and smooth. “You ain’t gonna drown me, are ya’?”
Jared shakes his head, laughs. Thinks it’s a joke. It’s not. He sets his feet back on the ground, stands up straight. The water reaches just up to his chest. “No, I won’t.”
The guy eyes him suspiciously. Then nods and stubs out his smoke. “Alright, what the hell‘s it matter anyway...”
Jensen
He slowly lowers himself into the water. His arms tremble under the strain of his own weight. But once he’s completely in, it’s worth it. He feels light, wriggles his toes on the ground. The water is nice against his heated skin. A shiver even goes through his body.
“Don’t be scared,” the kid says. “I got you.” He has inched closer, hands reaching out for him. The kid’s tall for his age.
“I ain’t scared of nothin’,” Jensen snaps. He’s not.
“Alright, alright,” the kid says, softly. He’s still holding out his hands. “So, are you coming or what?”
Jensen hesitates. Then slowly lifts his hands. The kid takes them and gently pulls him along. When they’re standing a bit more freely, the kid releases his hands. “Okay,” he says, smiling ever so happily. Like they’re friends and this is what they do all the time. Jensen likes that thought.
“So, what now?” He asks.
“Now I’ll show you how you have to move your arms for swimming.” The kid lifts his hands to his chest and puts them together, palm side. “You fold them, a little like for prayer.”
“I ain’t no prayer.”
“It’s just a comparison.”
“A what?” Jensen blinks. The kid shakes his head at him, grinning. He doesn’t seem arrogant, though. A little amused, but still patient. “A comparison. It means something is or looks or behaves like something else,” he explains. “It means you don’t have to be a prayer to fold your hands like that.”
“Uh-huh,” Jensen mumbles. He folds his hands in front of his chest like the kid did.
“Very good,” the kid praises. Jensen nods. It’s a rare sensation. He feels a little awkward about it. “Now,” the kid goes on, oblivious, and moves a step back. “You point them forward and cut them through the water like an arrow.” He demonstrates it, a little too roughly and water splatters on Jensen’s face. He startles, blinks the droplets from his eyelashes. The kid is smiling, apologetically. “Sorry.”
Jensen grins. He imitates the kid’s move and splatters his face in turn. “Like that?”
“Yeah.” The kid laughs. “Just like that.” He flips some wet hair from his forehead. Droplets of water fly off into the sky. Glittering like jewels. TV-commercial style. Jensen would buy the product on the spot. Steal it, if he had to, which he probably would…
“Okay, seriously, now.” The kid repeats the arrow movement, slower this time. The pointy knuckles of his thumb remind Jensen of a shark fin. “Cool,” he whispers.
The kid straightens. Smiling. It’s shining brighter than the sun. “Okay, you try it.”
Jensen does. First the prayer, then the arrow and the shark fin. He frowns. “That ain’t swimmin’ yet.”
“Slow the horses, cowboy,” the kid says, claps a hand on his shoulder. Jensen stares at it. People like that kid, they don’t touch him. Usually.
“What?” The kid asks off his look.
“You ain’t scared you gonna get yourself a disease or something?”
“From touching your skin?” The kid laughs like he just said something dumb. “Please. As long as you got no oozing eczema where I touch, I’ll be fine.”
Jensen only understands half the words the kid’s saying, but that’s okay. Bottom line is, this good ol’ poster boy’s not disgusted.
“’kay then,” he says.
The kid nods. “So, after the shark fin,” off Jensen’s look, “you mumbled doing the movements. Anyway, after the shark fin, you push like this…”
Jensen watches as the kid does the shark fin, then at the peak turns his palms outside and opens his arms. “Like…” The kid trails off, looking for another what’s-it-called. Then he smiles. “Like pushing open a saloon door.”
Jared
The guy’s face lights up at that. “I seen that on TV. John Wayne, thank you ma’am.” He mimics a gun pointing and shooting.
“Exactly,” Jared laughs, and pretends to be shot. He falls backwards into the water.
When he comes back up, the guy is smiling widely. A couple teeth are missing. Most of the others yellowed by nicotine. The expression still makes him look lighter, younger. More alive. Jared strangely finds himself drawn in by the holey smile. Returns it. Then he motions at the guy.
“Now, show me what you got.”
The guy takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself. Deep concentration lines etch into his forehead. He executes the movements slowly, with the focus and intensity of a cardiac surgeon. But it seems like he’s got some problems to get his mind to work properly. His coordination is slightly askew. Jared wonders if he’s always been like that, or if it’s the drugs.
It makes for a strange picture. But Jared waits patiently, watches on through 20 repetitions until the guy’s movement become fluid. The guy even stops mumbling his mnemonic.
“Alright.” Jared grabs his hands, stills them. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”
Another holey smile. The guy’s weezing slightly, his chest falling and rising faster, a little out of breath, already. The hands feel fragile in Jared’s. Before he realizes it, he squeezes them gently. Protectively.
Jensen
He tries to catch his breath. Doubts he succeeds. Blackness closes in at edge of his vision. Everything narrows down to the kid. His bloodless hands warm in the kid’s. It grounds him. He still feels that itch… that damn monkey grow heavy on his back. For the first time in a long time Jensen hates himself for it.
“Wanna take a break?” The kid asks. Jensen nods slowly. Glances at the door to his room. Wonders if he could sneak in and out for a shot. Wonders if he’d make it out before the kid leaves. Probably not. He opts for another cigarette. He walks over to the edge, pulls one out. The kid follows him.
“Want one?” Jensen shoves a smoke between his lips. Holds the pack out for the kid. He shakes his head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Jensen shrugs, dumps the pack on the floor. “Suit ya’self.” He lights his own. Inhales deep. Some of the crawling underneath his skin dies down. He closes his eyes for a moment. Rests his head in his hand.
“So, what’s your deal?”
Jensen blinks one eye open. The kid is leaning back against the edge of the pool, propped up on his elbows. Casually curious. Calm.
“What do ya’ mean?”
“Did you honestly think I didn’t notice the bruises?”
“Thought I gottaway without talkin’ ‘bout ‘em.” He suckles on his smoke, smiles around it. The kid returns it. Then turns to face him. Serious now. “So, will you tell me?”
Jensen hesitates. Looks the kid over. He doesn’t waver, just waits. Jensen sighs, cards a hand through his hair. “I get fucked on camera. In more ways than one.” He laughs, dryly. Coughs. His throat scratches. He clears it. A beat then the kid says, “Like in porn?”
Jensen nods.
“Wow. Didn’t expect that.”
“Tell me about it.” He stubs out his smoke. Rests his head on his forearms. “Back when, they told me I’d be a movie star.”
The kid watches him for a while. Then his gaze drops. “How old were you?”
Jensen rubs at his temple. “About thirteen. I think.”
“What about your parents?”
Jensen snorts. “They died when I was little. Like four or something.”
“I’m sorry.” A hand touches Jensen’s shoulder. He looks up at the kid. His mouth keeps spouting words on its own.
“ ‘s not so bad… Was in and out of a lot of foster homes. Sometimes I acted up and they gave me back. Sometimes they gave me back just ‘cause. Sometimes they hit me. Sometimes they came to my bed. The last ones were nice, though. Until they got a baby. A real one. I tried to help, be good. But I bothered them. So I left. Hoped they would come for me. They didn’t.” Jensen pauses. “But I’m fine now.” He wants to smile but it doesn’t come. Suddenly the kid’s arms wrap around him.
Jared
The guy’s definitely not fine. He’s crying without noticing. Jared feels a shiver run down his spine despite the heat. He can’t stand it. He reaches out, envelopes the guy in a hug. There’s surprise in his sunken, red rimmed eyes. Then just sadness as he sags against Jared. He feels a sudden white hot surge of anger at the system. It’s supposed to make a difference. Of the good kind. Not like this.
He wonders how many people even know his story. Has the sinking feeling he’s the first one who heard it. The first one who listened.
They stand together, frozen in time. Entangled like the roots of ornamental plans. Jared wonders if the guy will ever get the opportunity to blossom.
He grabs the guy by the shoulders. Pushes him back to lock their eyes. “You are older, now. You can get help.”
Jensen scoffs. “No way. I get fucked one way or another. At least Roy lets me shoot my mind to heaven beforehand.”
“He got you hooked on this?”
“Not many other ways to keep a kid from screaming when it gets DP’d.”
“What’s DP?”
“When you get fucked by two guys at the same time.”
Jared wishes he hadn’t asked. Bile rises in his throat.
“I know I’m on a leash,” the guy says. Scratches on his elbow. “But it’s a long one. He lets me do most of what I want when I want.”
“Because he knows you’ll be back.”
The guy nods. “It’s a symbosis.”
“Symbiosis,” Jared mumbles. “And it’s not. Not really.”
“Whatever.” The guy claps his hands. “What’s after the saloon door?”
Jared needs a beat to catch up on the sudden change of topic. He sighs. Turns to grab the edge of the pool. “All that’s left is to kick your feet.” He lifts them up, stretches out long and demonstrates it.
The guy watches him intently. The tip of his tongue pokes out. Wets his lips, then it comes to rest in the left corner. Jared stops.
“I can do that,” the guy says.
“Good.” Jared waits for him to start trying it. Then pulls himself out of the pool and gets his soda. The guy seems so focused on kicking his feet, he doesn’t even notice Jared’s gone. But he stops, breathing hard, when Jared sits down in the same position he had when they met. The guy looks up. Jared tilts the bottle against his lips, takes a swig. Holds the soda out for the guy. “You want some?”
The guy takes it, wraps his lips around the rim and drinks. All the while his eyes never leave Jared. When he hands the bottle back, Jared wipes the rim casually and takes another drink.
“You’re not like the others,” the guy says.
Jared shrugs. “I like you.”
“My point.” But the guy smiles widely. Crinkles form around his eyes. It lightens his face. If not for the missing teeth, he’d look like the boy next door.
Jared laughs softly and sinks back into the water. Wordlessly, they line up next to each other. In sync they start kicking at the water. They start laughing for no other reason than fun.
Jensen
It’s fun. Real fun. He likes that tall kid, too. Finds himself wishing for the moment to last forever. But the darkness creeps back into his vision. His feet grow heavy. He lets them sink. Drops his head. Breathes. Just breathes.
Then, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Present, caressing. Casual. Slowly, he lifts his head back up. There’s still no hidden agenda in the kid’s eyes.
“You okay?” He asks.
No, he’s not. He’s hungry. He needs a shot. Isn’t sure he can tough it out until they’re through with this. He glances at the door to his room. Then back at the kid.
His face is all open. Like some puppy, he’s waiting for Jensen’s answer. Jensen realizes he’s in control here. It’s a bit overwhelming. He glances once more at the door. Scratches at his elbow. He could go. He really could. But he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to. Turns back to the kid, instead. “Can I have some more soda?” He needs something sweet, at least.
“Yeah, sure.” The kid readily hands him the bottle. “Drink as much as you want.” Then, like he really doesn’t know Jensen’s in dire need of a hit, he says, “it’s pretty hot. Wouldn’t want you to dehydrate.”
Jensen nods. Drinks a lot, but stops himself before finishing it. “You too.”
“Sure.” The kid takes the bottle from him, chugs back the rest. Jenen watches as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down on each swallow.
“Alright,” the kid says. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jensen startles from his fantasy. “Now, let’s see if we can put those moves together.” He smacks a hand on Jensen’s shoulder again. “You’ll swim like a fish in no time, you’ll see.” The kid’s pretty touchy-feely. Jensen’s just surprised. It’s the first time he doesn’t mind.
When the kid helps him float in the water, his hands a gentle support, it’s better than drugs. If only his body would agree with him…
Jared
The guy swims towards him. He’s in a bit of a struggle, strength wise. He makes up for it with determination. A few minutes ago, he looked like he needed a hit badly. Jared thought he’d leave. But he didn’t. Mind over matter. Jared knows it won’t last much longer, but for now, the guy is here and not there.
He stretches out his hands, proud of him. “You’re doing great, just a little further.” The guy’s head bobs under water. Jared cringes. “No worries, it’s okay,” The guy comes back up sputtering. Jared watches, attentively. The guy hasn’t set foot on the ground, yet. He’s still swimming.
“Just three more strokes… two… one…” Their fingers touch. Jared grabs them tight, pulls. The guy comes up straight. Smiling, laughing, he falls in close. Their lips meet. They kiss.
It happens unintended, natural. It feels natural. Meant to be. Underneath the surface, their fingers are entangled. Jared’s eyes slip shut. He hums softly as their bodies line up.
What they do is languid, gentle. Maybe a little shy. When he pulls back, he squeezes their entwined fingers tenderly. Laughs, amazed. The guy stares at him like he just found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Looks at him like he’s the best thing in the world. In the whole universe. Jared averts his eyes, sheepish. “That was my first kiss.”
“’t was my first kiss, too.” The guy pauses. “I mean, kissing someone I want to.”
Jared leans his temple against the guy’s. Sighs heavily. Then whispers, “wanna do it again?”
The guy gives his hands a squeeze. Turns his head until their mouths meet again. Jared watches his eyelids close. Enjoying the moment.
Jensen
He wonders if he’s not really here. If he took his golden shot and went to heaven. But that can’t be true. He ain’t going to no heaven if he dies. He’ll just rot wherever he drops.
But that means this is real. Everything he’s feeling is real and right there. Lips softer and gentler than any other he knows. Shy and curious instead of demanding.
For the first time he feels warmth instead of greed. Emotions instead of professionalism. If you can call it that. Jensen’s sure it’s just a fancy word Roy and his men use. They all get their rocks of on fucking him and others in front of a camera.
But this kid is different. He’s allowing Jensen to lean onto him when they kiss. Their chests align and their heart beats become one. Eventually they part their lips. The kid’s lips are plump, red and shining like rubies. His eyes are heavy, pupils blown as he rides the high of the kiss.
Jensen giggles, doesn’t like to admit it, but he does. He’s fucking giddy, is what he is. He wraps his arms around the kid’s neck and holds on. And the best thing is, the kid doesn’t protest. Even hooks his own arms under Jensen’s, wraps them around him, supportive. Caressing his back.
The air around them is sizzling. The sun is high, it’s almost noon. Jensen never liked these days. When the guys come to him, sweating like pigs, and their skin gets glued to his. It’s always disgusting. Even a hit only enough to make him able to stand it. Never enough to make it good. But now, he doesn’t want to let go. Wishes the heat to melt their skins together.
Amazed he notices a fluttering feeling in his gut. Like he swallowed a bucket of living butterflies. Like a good trip, but without the H.
He grins stupidly to himself. Clings tighter to the tall kid. It’s a nice feeling.
Jared
Eventually, when the skin between them starts feeling icky after all, they pull apart. Not far though. Some parts are always touching. Hands and fingers mostly. Shoulders brushing. A gentle caress that sneaks in when they start romping about in the water.
The guy is laughing a lot now. It’s a beautiful sound. Full and resonating someplace deep. Jared’s unable not to join in. They splash each other with water. Dance around one another. Move in. Kiss. Move back. Hands tangling, tugging and shoving. Bantering like they’ve known each other for ages.
The guy seems to have forgotten everything around him. Jared wonders if that includes the drugs. If that’s even possible. The guy sure looks like it is, all carefree now. Fooling around.
It’s a damn good time they’re having. When the guy gets him into a playful neck hold, it’s over though. Jared spots a man in a doorway. Cheesy skin, sweaty and with thick, dark hair plastered to his potbelly. A pair of boxers rests underneath the curve. A Hawaii shirt falls open, hangs wide around his skinny arms. He’s leaning against the doorframe, a curious expression on his face. His eyes are squinted against the sun. He’s staring at them.
Jared stops mock struggling in the guy’s hold. The guy laughs, once more, and the beautiful sound echoes in Jared’s ears. “You giving up?”
But Jared doesn’t reply. Could that man in the doorway be Roy? He gets the answer when the guy loosens his hold. Sinks down beside him and the man straightens. Nods at the room.
The guy glances at Jared. A hand moves to the crook of his elbow. He scratches at the marred flesh.
“Gotta go,” he says. His voice isn’t without sadness.
Jared nods. “I know.” The world’s come crashing down on them.
He moves with the guy to the edge of the pool. Helps him out. They hug once more. Kiss, once, twice… three times before they manage to pull apart. The guy turns and goes, fingers slowly slipping from their grasp. Then Jared sees the red burn on his back. “Wait,” he calls.
The guy turns back. Jared rushes to where he dumped his stuff. Picks up his white, velvet button down and goes to lay it across the guy’s shoulders. “You’ve got fair skin,” he whispers, smoothes out imaginary crinkles along the guy’s arms. “Wouldn’t want you to get melanoma.”
“What?”
“Skin cancer.”
The guy flinches. “That’d suck.”
“Wouldn’t it?” Jared smiles.
“Hey, boy,” the man calls. They both turn to him. He’s been quiet so far. Non-threatening. But he’s not exactly what Jared would call sympathetic either.
Roy scratches at his crotch. “You’re a pretty one. Looking for a job? I can make you a movie-star.”
Nausea rises in Jared. “No thanks.”
“Leave him alone, Roy,” the guy says, wearily. He steps towards the man.
Roy just shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
The guy gives Jared a last wave of the hand. Then, clinging to the white shirt, he disappears into his room.
“Nice to meet you,” Jared whispers, staring after the closed door. “I’m Jared. What’s your name?”
Jensen
Inside the room, Jensen tosses and turns idly on the bed. Roy’s setting up cameras. Even a fancy light and some filters. Jensen wonders if he cut short on the money for H. Or if he stole that stuff somewhere.
“You a real director, now?” Jensen asks.
Roy chugs a wooden dildo at him. It hits him right in the forehead. Jensen chuckles, rubs the spot. Next to him on the bed, his co-star snores. Fast asleep. He’s a big fella. Jensen irks at the thought. Turns away, onto his side. “Hey, Roy...” he drawls. “Can I have some more?”
The Bastard shakes his head. “Need you in this, boy.”
“Uh-huh…” he mumbles. Snuggles into the velvet shirt.
“That’s a good one,” Roy says. “I like that shirt. You keep it on. Makes you look all innocent and shit.”
“…and shit,” Jensen repeats. Curls his fingers in the fabric. He’s never gonna take it off again. “I ain’t no shit.”
A beat. Then Roy says, “Whatever. And do that laugh you did with that boy in the pool.”
Jensen stares up at Roy. “Huh…?”
His sight’s not exactly clear, but it looks like Roy is blushing. Jensen smiles goofily. Then something filters through the haze in his mind. Something from outside. Voices. A family, loading a car.
He sits up. Tugs the white shirt around him. Forces himself to think for a moment. Hand outstretched he turns to Roy. “Gimme a pen and some paper.”
Roy snorts. “What for?”
“Jus’ gimme.”
A sweaty hand taps against his back. Neil’s woken up. Produced a pen from somewhere. “Got no paper, though.” He yawns. Jensen picks the pen from his sausage fingers.
Roy nods at the table behind him. “Motel pad’s here.”
“Thanks,” Jensen says. Rips of the top sheet. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Jared
Inside the car, Jared leans against the door. His sister is chatting animatedly with his big brother. Jared drones out the noise. Stares out of the window at the room the guy vanished into. Jared strokes his thumb slowly over his lips. He misses the guy already.
Jared sighs. He doesn’t even know his name. Then the door opens and there he is. Still in the same ratty pair of shorts. Bare feet, he’s running towards his car. The tails of his white shirt fly behind him.
Jared straightens in his seat. Beaming. His parents get into the front seats.
A moment later, the guy skitters to a halt at his window. He’s pale, pupils not bigger than pinpoints and sweating. He’s still the most beautiful person Jared’s ever seen. The guy stretches out his balled up hand. Jared’s Dad turns on the ignition.
“Thanks for teaching me swimming,” the guy says. Jared holds up his palm and the guy drops a folded piece of paper into it. “’s all I got.”
“Thank you,” Jared whispers. Curls his fingers around it. Lets their tips brush against the guy’s palm before he can pull his hand back.
“Jared?” His Dad asks. All of his family is staring at him.
“I…” he starts. He doesn’t want to leave. Not without him. But the guy claps a hand on the car. Says, “Sir,” and walks a few steps back. Jared stares after him. He’s waving, says, “Bye, Jared,” as the car rolls off the lot.
A tear rolls down Jared’s cheek. He sucks in a rattling breath. Unfolds the paper. In childish handwriting it only states a name: Jensen Ackles.
“It’s all he got,” Jared mumbles.
After a moment, his brother turns to look at him. “Wasn’t that guy wearing your shirt?”
Jared doesn’t respond. He looks back down at the slip of paper. At the name. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Hey, Dad.”
“Yes?”
With steel in his voice, Jared says, “Sorry, but I’ve made a change to my career plans.”
10 years later…
Jared
A fan rotates rhythmically on the ceiling. Rat, rat, rat… Soft noises. Faint air circulation. Jared blinks at it, disgruntled. He straightens, leans forward, away from the back of his leather desk chair. Sweat makes his tailored suit stick to the small of his back.
Despite the breeze he is still sweating like a hooker in church. He remembers that day, a decade ago. Never forgot about it, really, but on days like these it’s like he’s back at that motel. Back at that pool. Back with him.
From the top drawer of his large mahogany desk, he fishes the slip of paper he received that day. The edges are frazzled. The motel logo faded out. The name on it merely a ghostly shadow. He sighs. Lifts it to his lips. Closes his eyes for a moment. Pictures Jensen Ackles, the tails of a white, velvet shirt flattering behind him as he’s running. Running for Jared. But in Jared’s dreams Jensen never reaches him… He has woken up with tears in his eyes more than once. Never stopped him from looking for Jensen, though.
Then, a knock on his door. Madeleine, his secretary enters. Late fifties, a shock of grey hair. Big bosom, wide hips. Female curves and gentle eyes. The motherly type. Jared had picked her exactly for that. With her credentials it was a no-brainer. He couldn’t have been happier with her the past few years. Neither could his clients. Instant comfort. An image of a welcoming home, something most of them don’t have.
She is slightly winded. Face serious. An air of grave importance fills the room. Jared grows attentive behind his desk. Becomes worried. He sets down the slip of paper, spreads his palms flat on the cool mahogany.
Madeleine takes a deep breath. Inclines her head slightly, looks at him over the rim of her glasses. Then she says, “They found him.”
~FIN
Sequel: Summer Days