Summer Days - Day 8 (End of 'Summer Days')
Title: Summer Days - Day 8 (End of 'Summer Days')
Rating: R
Genre: AU, H/C
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Mentions of drug use, prostitution ; Violence
Word Count: ~ 6400
Disclaimer: The events described in this story are purely fictional.
A/N #1: Part of Summer Days
A/N #2: The San Antonio described in this story is fictional, therefore geographical inaccuracies are kindly to be ignored.
A/N #3: I'm sorry this took so long. I rewrote various parts of it about a dozen times.
Summary: Jensen's been surviving for the past two decades. Now he thinks it's time to live.
Summer Days
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
~ Winston Churchill
Day 8
Jensen
Jensen’s fresh out off the shower. He’s dressed only halfway, sitting on his bed. Bend over he’s tying his new desert boots. Getting ready for his job interview slash trial day.
Jared on the other hand, is moving around frantically. Pacing up and down, by Jensen’s door. His shirt’s buttoned up askew. It doesn’t seem like he noticed.
Jensen grins to himself. Huffs a breath and straightens up again. He leans back and quietly watches Jared, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Hey,” he calls.
Jared halts abruptly. His eyes snap over to him. Pupils blown.
“Jensen-” he starts, but breaks off again. His arms twitch and a hand shoots up to his mouth. Rubs at his lips. Lines fold his forehead. “What if… Yeah. What if,” Jared says, crossing the room with to strides, index finger pointed at him. Jensen startles, taken aback.
“Okay, okay,” Jared goes on, “So you say, you’re cool being around cameras… let’s assume that, okay? But your heart - the job’s gonna be stressful either way.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. So, that approach. He exhales a deep breath, hitches his shoulders with a smirk. “Right now, you’re closer to a heart attack than me.”
“Shut up! You-” Jared’s face hardens into stark lines. His finger holds Jensen at gun point.
“Jesus, Jared…” he gasps, holds up his open palms, trying to placate him. “I’ll be fine. It’s a local TV-station. Not a porn studio.”
He frowns when Jared doesn’t reply. The dark look on Jared’s face makes him queasy. “Seriously,” he says, trying to keep it light. “What are you so freaked about?”
Jared’s eyes shoot to the side. His teeth gnaw at his lips. It’s obvious he knows most of his worries are irrational. After a moment, Jared gives a curt snort. Glances back at him. Tilts his head and says, “Bend over.”
Jensen’s eyes widen and he huffs a laugh. Crosses his arms over his chest. “Now you are freaking me out, Jared.”
At first Jared frowns, not getting it. Then it apparently hits him. He grits his teeth. “This is all a big joke to you, huh?”
“No…” he says and sighs. Opens his arms again. “Ya’ ain’t making much sense, though.”
“Yeah…” Jared says, snidely. “Giving a shit about your health - that’s really crazy.”
“No, fuck, man, but watcha wanna do, huh?” He pushes off the bed. “Lock me up in here?”
Jared takes a step back, startled. “No.”
“Ya’ sure? ’cause that’s what it sounds like to me!”
“Jensen-”
He cuts Jared off. Blows up right in his face. “My mind’s not gonna snap. My heart won’t give out and I sure as fuck won’t get another fuckin’ disease just from touchin’ something!” By the end of his sentence, he’s shouting. He sucks in a greedy breath. His heart’s rapid firing. It’s not jumping, though. Not skipping steps. He’s okay.
Jared’s eyes flicker over him. “Jensen, I… I…” he trails off. Gives an empty shrug. It takes the heat out of Jensen. Jared looks pathetic. Exhausted. There are lines on Jared’s face that Jensen doesn’t remember. Dark shadows sit heavy beneath Jared’s gentle eyes.
Jensen clenches his jaw. Rasps a hand over his chin. “Sorry. I’m…” he breathes out slowly. “I’m okay. Why won’t ya’ believe me?”
“I want to, but…” Jared shrugs.
His history, yeah. He sighs. “When ya’ said ‘bend over’… Ya’ wanna check my shoulder, right?” Jensen turns, shows his back to Jared. He glances down, waits as Jared reaches out. Touches the KS lesions on his shoulder blade. Jared trails off. Sighs. “Your viral count’s so high…” His hand becomes a feathery touch on Jensen’s bare back. A shiver runs down Jensen’s spine. Warmth pools in his groin. He swallows hard. “’s why I got the new meds. I’ll be fine.”
“New meds… Right…” Jared mumbles. “We don’t know if they work any better. It’s only been a week since you came back home,” he says. “Maybe you should call… schedule the interview for next week.”
Jensen shakes his head, says, “No,” and steps away from Jared.
“Jensen…”
He ignores Jared. Instead plucks his new denim shirt from the bed. Pulls it on, buttons it up and tucks it into his pants. Tightens the shiny black leather belt another notch and turns to Jared. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, watching him with sad eyes.
Jensen pushes the compassion down. Instead spreads his arms, forces his voice light and asks, “So, how do I look?”
Jared sighs, but a soft smile forms on his lips. “Not bad, Johansson‘s got a good eye.”
“Hey! Just ‘cause he helped out, doesn’t mean I didn’t have a say in picking this stuff!” He pops his collar. “And I rock this shit.”
It earns him a chuckle as Jared steps closer. Flattens and straightens his collar again. Then Jared cups his face and rests their foreheads together. “I’m so fucking tired,” he admits, quietly.
“I know,” Jensen says, softly. With calm fingers, he starts to unbutton Jared’s dress shirt.
Jared blinks at him. Glances down. “Jensen?”
“Don’t worry… strictly G-rated. You missed a hole there.” He chuckles. Straightens Jared’s shirt and re-buttons it. When he’s done he pats Jared’s chest. Glances back up. Jared’s staring at him. His breathing has changed. So has the hold on his cheeks. Jensen knows what’s coming now. He closes his eyes, averts his face. A split second later, Jared’s lips brush against his cheek.
“Jensen-” Jared’s voice changes three times while saying his name. First there’s shock. Then there’s hurt. And then there’s just a huge amount of fear in it.
Jared tries to pull back, but Jensen doesn’t want to see his face. So he steps closer instead and wraps his arms around Jared. Buries his face in Jared’s shoulder. It hits him hard how well he fits there. How much Jared’s smell calms him. He thinks about the times he jerked off, thinking secretly about Jared. Remembers the first time ever he did it, watching Jared sleep. Remembers how it felt. How much feeling attraction messes with his head. He sucks in a rattling breath. “Not yet.”
Jared’s hands which have been hovering at his side, set down on his shoulders. Strong arms begin to return the embrace. “Okay.”
They stand like this for a while. Then Jensen slowly pulls back. Smiles tentatively. “Help me roll up the sleeves?”
Jared laughs, nods. His hands are quick. In no time Jensen’s sleeves are folded up neatly up to his elbows. But after Jared’s done, his fingers wrap around Jensen’s bare forearms. He strokes his thumb over the marred skin. His arms are healing, the marks fading, but there are scars, too, which they both know will never be invisible.
“Are you sure?” Jared asks.
He nods. “Open cards and all that.”
The door bell echoes through the house. Jared lets go of his arms. “Your ride’s here.”
He glances in the direction of the door. A little nausea rises in him at the thought that Jeff’s waiting for him. A little glee, too. It’s the beginning of a love-to-hate relationship. Turning back to Jared, he sucks in a deep breath, grins and smacks his cheeks. “Alright, see you later then. Wish me luck.”
“Alright. Good luck,” Jared says. Smiles. “Partner.”
***
“What are you so stoked about?”
Jeff’s dark voice is the first thing he hears upon leaving the house. Jeff’s leaning against his car. A black Mercedes S-class, tuned with a Carlsson RS design kit. He’s seen a few of these before. A car you don’t wanna spot in your rearview mirror. Especially at night. Right now, the sun reflects off the freshly polished black paint. Forces Jensen to squint his eyes. He smirks, says “Having an awesome guy as a partner. It’s lovely.” Non-chalantly, he sips at his coffee. Jeff’s face contorts into a mask of disgust. It suits his nauseatingly expensive looking clothes. He’s dressed in a tailored blue-ish black suit. His feet are clad in shiny, spotless slippers. The stuff looks more expensive than any Jared owns combined. Jeff’s arms are crossed in front of his chest, impatient. Disdain is palpable on his face. It makes him look like a guy who’s most comfortable doing business in the dark.
Jensen snorts, takes another drink. Then, because he can’t help it - provoking guys like that has become a knee-jerk reaction over the years - he holds out his travel mug. “Ya’ want some?”
Jeff gives an angry grunt. Pushes off the car and steps around to the driver’s side. Chuckling, Jensen slides into the passenger seat. Pulls the door shut with more force than necessary. He responds to Jeff’s glare with a mask of innocence. Leans back and enjoys the low rumble of the car.
“I’m surprised,” he says after a while, watching the houses fly by outside. He doesn’t need to check the meter to know Jeff’s going way past the speed limit.
“Yeah?” Jeff grunts. “Why’s that?”
“Thought for sure ya’d come up with some really sucky job. But instead... Cable-puller, that’s not so bad.” He smiles, glances at Jeff. The guy’s jaw is set so hard it looks about ready to break. Jensen huffs a laugh. “Ya’ thought I’d crack. Look at that… ya’ ain’t so different from your brother after all…”
White knuckles clutch the steering wheel. “I had to come up with some fuckin’ reason for recommending you.” He stops at a red light. Turns to him, grinning, shark teeth bared. “There ain’t many jobs that regard camera-whore as a qualification.”
Jensen nods, holds up his mug in a silent toast. “And yet ya’ found one. Got some experience in crawling through shit, huh?”
Jeff’s eyes bulge outward. He doesn’t notice the light switching to green. It takes the guy behind them honking to shake Jeff from his frozen stupor.
Sucking in a harsh breath, Jeff visibly fights for his composure. “Don’t get too cocky. It’s a dying business anyway. We’re splitting the second they’re done producing that ad for our firm.” A beat then Jeff shoots him a look. Jensen can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling. “You wanna make a bet?”
Jensen frowns. “What bet?”
“Who bites the dust first: you or that TV-station.”
He bites the inside of his cheek. That fucking bastard. Jeff’s grin widens. There’s no way he’s letting Jeff get to him, though. So he takes a sip of his coffee and forces the anger down. Drawls, “Nah…” and hitches one shoulder. “Don’t see any profit in that for me. Sure ya’ can relate to that.”
Jeff shoots him a condescending smile. “You wanna play with the big boys? Think some new clothes,” he flicks at Jensen’s shirt, “which suck by the way, will make you a business man?”
Smirking, he leans out of reach. “Dunno, do they make you one?”
Suddenly Jeff pulls over, hits the breaks. Jensen slams forward, collides hard with the dashboard. His travel mug falls into the foot well. He groans, painfully reminded of not having fastened the seat belt. Before he’s able to regain his bearings, Jeff’s hand slams down on his head. Presses him further into the rough plastic. “You little shit. You need to get something through to your tiny junkie-brain.” Jeff twists his face on the dashboard. Presses down harder. Jensen grits his teeth, tries to push the guy off but it’s futile. Jeff’s got 60 pounds on him.
So he stills and snarls, “Yeah, what’s that?” Tries to catch Jeff’s eye.
Jeff leans in close. His voice is calm, deadly even, when he says, “You’ll never be a business man. You’ll always be the product.”
Jensen’s chest constricts at the words. He swallows past the painful lump in his throat. No fuckin’ chance in hell he’ll back down. He forces a smirk on his lip. Says, “Dude… What ya’ call intimidation, I’ve come to known as foreplay.” He sucks in a rattling breath. “So get ya’ sick fucking hands off of me.”
Jeff gives him one last shove, then lets go.
He leans back, his face throbbing. A thumb to his lip confirms his suspicion. So does the bloody splotch on Jeff’s dashboard. Jeff’s eyes shoot from him to the smear. Then his hands shoot up to his head. “Fuck,” he mutters.
Jensen sucks in a breath. Rests his head back against the seat. Sighs and glances at Jeff, thumb pressed up against his lip. “Ya’ got a tissue?”
“Yeah,” Jeff says, distractedly and picks a pocket pack of Kleenex from the driver’s door compartment.
“Thanks,” he mutters. Picks a tissue and dabs it against his lip before he picks up his dropped travel mug. Luckily it hasn’t spilled much, but the rim’s dirty. He can’t drink the rest, not without risking another infection.
“Hey,” Jeff calls. He glances over. Jeff’s still holding out the Kleenex pack. He nods at the dashboard, says, “Aren’t you going to wipe that off, too?”
Jensen rolls his eyes, but plucks another tissue from the pack. While Jeff gets the car back on the road, Jensen cleans up his blood. When the dashboard’s as clean as it gets, he tosses the bundled up tissue into the foot well. Sinks back into the seat and glances out the window. Outside, it’s a nice day. The sun falls through the glass, warm, but not too hot. The sky is cloudless. A lot of birds enjoy the nice breeze. He watches them float in the vast sea up above, wings spread, weightless.
Slowly the blood on his lip dries, closes the split. He lets the tissue sink. “What’s this really about?” He asks, cutting the silence between them.
Jeff shoots him a brief glance. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, even if I spill the beans about your little chocolate-colored adventure, you really think anyone would believe me? Over you?”
A beat. Then Jeff says, “No.”
“So, why?”
“Just shut the fuck up,” Jeff says through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll bash your face in for good this time.”
“But you’d still drive me to that job interview, wouldn’t you?”
There’s no reply. But as Jensen looks over, there are new lines forming between Jeff’s eyes. His jaw is working on breaking down his teeth again.
Jensen grins, shakes his head. “Not my face ya’ wanna bash in, buddy,” he mumbles.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He turns away from Jeff, rests against the window. Looks like the guy has a conscience after all. And it’s twisting him up on the inside.
Jared
The doorbell jingles as Jared enters. The café is well frequented. Mostly people like him, jackets unbuttoned and ties loosened, using lunch break to escape the office for an hour. Mingled among them he spots a few students, too, books spread out on their tables. There’re a couple young mothers, too, rocking their babies while talking across a pieces of pie and cake. In the far corner sits an elderly couple. Quietly, not looking at each other, but no less in tune. Watching others while enjoying their company.
Jared halts for a moment. He’s surrounded by live in its entirety. He soaks it up, feels lighter as the warm feeling makes him smile. Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the gift card in his hand. He almost didn’t come. Didn’t feel like it, but now he’s glad he came. It might have been just what he needed.
“Jared! Hi!” A waitress stops by his side. She’s petite, dark haired and always has a friendly smile in store.
“Hi, Sandy,” he says. Leans down for a quick peck on her cheek. “How’s it?”
“Busy,” she says, hiking up her eyebrows. “But good. We’ve been expecting you. Do you want me to take you to your place or do you wanna go greet your sister first?” She waves over her shoulder at the door marked private. “Though I’m not sure she’s got a lot of time right now.”
“I figured,” he says. “I’ll see if I can catch her later.”
“Alright,” Sandy says. Then she turns and with a tilt of her head, beckons him to follow. She leads him to a quiet corner where a table for two is still empty. A little sign reads ‘booked’. “I’ll be right back with your order,” Sandy says and leaves him alone.
Smiling softly, Jared sinks down into a comfortable leather chair. From this spot he can watch the entire café. He releases a content smile. Plucks out the note Jensen left together with the gift certificate in his pocket.
Hey Jared,
Ten years ago I met you. A boy with a spark in his eyes that showed me there can be more to life than drugs and sex.
I still don’t know much about life. Just that it often doesn’t go as planned. But obsessing over it hardly ever helps.
Sometimes it’s enough to know we’re alive. And I want you to know that with you by my side, I can’t go down.
Love, Jensen
Gently tracing the lines of Jensen’s scratchy handwriting with a finger, Jared reads it once more. He doesn’t notice Sandy is back until she sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a plate in front of him. There’s a round cake on it, looking a little bit like a donut. It’s striped red and white with frosting. There’s writing on it in chocolate syrup, reading ‘U.S.S Jared’. It’s a sweet, edible life belt.
“You gotta enjoy it while it’s still warm,” Sandy points out.
He startles, stares at the cake and the note. Then he smiles softly and nods. “Yeah. I will.”
Sandy blinks at him, looking a little confused. But she regains her composure quickly. “Gotta go. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do. Thanks Sandy.”
As she leaves, he picks up the fork. The cake yields softly as he plunges it in, but it downright melts on his tongue. Underneath the frosting it’s chocolate cheesecake. His favorite. He hums in enjoyment. While he eats it, he takes out his phone, unable to wait any longer. And luckily, after he hits the call button, it doesn’t even take two rings, before Jensen’s low rumble echoes over the line. “Hey, you,” he says. “Did you find it?”
Jared hums around the fork.
He hears Jensen chuckle. “Take it that means yes.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, swallowing. “It’s… Thank you. I needed that.”
“I know,” Jensen says softly.
“So, how is your day so far?”
“It’s real good. Great, even. It’s not really cable-puller, like Jeff said. They’ll hire me as an intern, but they still pay me, so it’s cool. And the station is so small they said they’d let me help with pretty much everything. Richard - he’s the camera operator and my boss - he said he wants to train me to operate a camera, help out on outside broadcasts and stuff. In fact we’re just about to leave to record a talk at some restaurant,” Jensen says. “And the folks, here - everybody’s really cool. Normal, you know?”
“That sounds real great.” There’s still a bitter part in him that’s heeding doubts, but he still means it. He figures he’ll always worry. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have some faith that things are finally looking up for real. Jensen sounds genuinely excited.
“It is,” Jensen says. “Can’t wait to tell you all about it later.”
He smiles at that. “Me neither. Do you know when you’ll be home, tonight?”
“Around six, I think. Depends on…” Jensen trails off.
He frowns. “Depends on what?”
There’s a beat, then Jensen sighs. “Richard. He’ll give me a ride.”
“What about Jeff?”
“He’s got other things to do.”
Pinching his nose, Jared sighs. So much for having faith in the good fate. “Oh, really? What things? It’s his day off. You guys had a deal. It’s the least-”
“It’s not like that,” Jensen interrupts him. “I told him he doesn’t need to pick me up.”
“Did you guys fight?”
Jensen huffs a breath. “Somewhat, but that’s not…” A pause. “There’s something he and his wife need to talk about,” he says evasively.
“What?”
“Let’s just say he’s taking on responsibility for his actions, alright? You’ll probably find out soon enough,” Jensen says. “I only got a few more minutes. Can’t we talk about something more… fun than Jeff?”
At that he can’ keep from chuckling. “Okay… Knowing Jeff, I better enjoy the calm before the storm, huh?”
“That’s the spirit,” Jensen laughs.
He grins. “So what do you want talk about?”
“Well,” Jensen says, and Jared can hear him smile, “How about what we’ll do tonight…”
Jensen
After a reluctant good-bye, he pockets his phone. Still smiling, he rests his head back. The red-brick, timber-framed wall is cool against his back. A warm breeze tugs at his hair. He inhales the fresh air of the countryside. The thought makes him chuckle. They’re still in San Antonio, but this place is pretty secluded. The high trees and the wide field surrounding the building makes it easy to forget the city around them.
“Hey.” Richard’s voice makes him look up. “You okay?”
He rolls his eyes, grinning and straightens up. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“’s just, you were looking a bit weak in the knees there.”
“Nah, just enjoying the place.”
At that Richard nods appreciatively. “It’s not bad. Might take my wife out here someday.”
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” He grins, remembering Jared’s word from this morning.
“You’re married?” Richard asks. He sounds surprised.
Jensen shakes his head. “No. I got a partner.”
“A guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
He huffs a laugh. “What?”
“Didn’t think you’d…” Richard scratches awkwardly at his chin. “Not that that’s bad, right? Being gay. I mean I never met a gay before.”
At that Jensen shrugs detachedly and smirks. “Don’t ask me. I’m biased.”
“Guess I gotta figure it out by myself, then.” Richard leans against the wall next to him, smiling comradely. He pulls out a pack of smoke, picks one then offers it to him.
Jensen sucks in a deep breath. It’s tempting. But he shakes his head no and exhales. “Thanks, but I quit.”
“Because of your HIV?”
“In part,” he says. “More because I’m nearing a dead end in general.”
“Yeah…” Richard drawls. Then smiles awkwardly. “I’d enjoy the ride.”
He grins. “I do. Doesn’t mean I’ve to redline it.”
Richard looks at him baffled, his finger hovering over the lighter switch. “Touché.”
Their attention is drawn by the sound of crunching gravel. Kevin’s stepping around the corner. The sound operator flicks his smoke stub on the pebbled ground. “Guys, Susan and the rest of her guests are here.”
Jensen glances at Richard. Shrugging, Richard tosses his unlit smoke. “Alright then. Work, work, work…” He grins and pats him on the shoulder. Together, they follow Kevin back to the front of the rural building. It serves as a restaurant, specialized in European cuisine. The design looks foreign to Jensen and he figures it’s probably European, too. The front area is looking pretty chaotic by now. They had to move tables and chairs, to set up their set. In a triangle of lights and cameras they’ve set up two tables with a total of four chairs. It’s gonna look great on TV, though. He took a look through the fixed-position camera that’s going to record the talk in a long shot. He had watched Richard set it up and he’s gotta admit the guy really has an eye for it. The set is framed nicely, with parts of the large, wooden gate and brick wall visible in the background. The decorative inscription over the entrance frames the upper part of the shot.
Jensen sweeps his gaze over the people standing in front of the building. He spots three people he hasn’t seen before. One of them, a woman, is pointing at the house. Describing ‘Little Europe’ as a restaurant in the charming, rural design of a typical Low German house. Jensen figures she must be Susan, the host of the talk they’re gonna shoot. Early forties, with an expression on her face that’s stern but not cold. The look of a person who knows her business. She’s got dark blond hair that falls past her shoulders onto a light floral blouse. Fitting black pants seem to stretch her legs and high-heeled shoes give her another couple inches. It doesn’t seem to be a decision solely out of vanity. Even now she still barely reaches past the shoulders of the man next to her. He’s dresses as a chef, nodding appreciatively at the building. He’s of average height, slim with short black hair and a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. “Very nice,” he says. “Do they serve exclusively German cuisine or-”
“On our menu we have various dishes from the Central European cuisine,” another man explains. It’s the guy who owns this place. He’s wearing a black suit and a blond shock of hair. Jensen’s pretty sure he spotted blue eyes earlier. He’s not entirely sure, though, if this guy is really from Europe or if he’s just trying too hard with hair dye and colored contacts. It seems a bit cliché. Maybe his name was, too, but Jensen can’t remember it.
One thing’s for sure, the guy’s pretty nervous. He tries to hide it behind an awkward smile but it’s futile. Even though he’s already been in make-up, his skin’s glistering with sweat.
Jensen feels for him. From what he understood, this is the pre-opening day of the guy’s restaurant. God knows what else he’s got on his mind on top of being on a talk show.
He’s shaking the hands of the new arrivals, including that of the third talk guest, who hasn’t said anything yet. She’s a woman whose age Jensen finds hard to guess. The lady is wearing a non-descript grey, pant suit with a violet blouse underneath. She’s a bit heavy set, with a soft girlish face, but her straight-cut hairdo makes her look ten years older. It doesn’t sit well with her. A glance to his colleagues confirms they share Jensen’s opinion.
While they exchange pleasantries, Heather, a pretty blond woman with a pony tail steps up to the group. Jensen’s met her briefly at the Station, but he didn’t know she was responsible for the make-up until she arrived about half an hour ago and spread her make-up kit on one of the outdoor tables. Matt, the second camera operator has been chatting her up ever since. He’s a young guy, probably fresh out of college. He’s athletic, but rather on the wiry side. His smile is wide and friendly, but he’s missing one front tooth. Jensen’s not decided yet if it adds character or just makes him look a little stupid. But he’s not really in the place to judge, anyway and the guy seems nice enough. He’s watching after Heather, just short of leering at her butt, as she guides the quiet woman in the pant-suit through the set to a chair.
For a second it looks like one of the woman’s shoes is going to catch on a cable and tear down a light. Jensen’s about to jump in, when the woman seems to notice and lifts her foot a little higher.
“Hey, Jackles!” Richard’s perky voice makes him turn. At his side stands Susan. Richard waves him over. “Jensen this is Susan Parker. Susan, meet our new guy: Jensen Ackles. He’ll show you the time.”
Jensen nods politely. “Nice to meet ya’ ma’am.”
A smile softens her face. “Please, call me Susan. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Jensen. May I call you Jensen?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Okay, good. So, Jensen, you’re going to show me the time?”
He nods.
“I already told him the general gist,” Richard says. “You two just need to agree on the intervals.”
“Alright,” Susan says. “We have segments of eleven minutes, so I’d like for you to show me when there’re only three minutes, one minute and thirty seconds left.”
“Okay. Uhm… how?”
Susan frowns at Richard, who hikes up his shoulders apologetically. “We don’t have the printed-out numbers here. They weren’t in the usual box.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Well then,” she says and turns back to him. “Just hold up your fingers. Make sure you hold them up high enough and for a bit of time, so I can see them.” Susan lifts her right hand to demonstrate it. “Three, two and one and for thirty seconds you hold your index finger out horizontally.”
It’s easy enough, but Jensen mimics her once, just to proof he got it. When he does, Susan’s eyes fall on the marred skin on his forearm. She glances him over once before she looks him back in the eyes. “Oh dear, what happened to your arms?”
Jensen’s about to start explaining himself, when Richard throws an arm around his shoulders. “It’s a long story. Right?”
Susan’s eyes switch between them. She frowns. “Is there a problem?”
“No…” Richard says, with an awkward laugh. “But, it’s his first day. We don’t wanna bother him with questions.”
“Nah, it’s ok,” Jensen says. “That is, if you’re okay with me telling her.”
“Yes, sure, I just thought…” Richard trails off. Shrugs. “It’s not something I would like to talk about.”
At that he can’t help but laugh. “’s that why no one’s asked me, yet? ‘cause I’ve seen the looks I got from some folks at the station. Did you tell everyone not to mention it?”
“Well, yeah,” Richard says. “I don’t want anyone making a fuss. Especially when we gotta see how you work with us. Don’t need you worrying about some nosey-rosey breathing down your neck.”
Jensen can’t help a fond chuckle. “I appreciate that,” he says with a smile. “But if I’m going to work around everybody, you gotta let the guys talk to me.”
“He’s got a point,” Thomas’s voice makes all of them turn their head. He’s their Technical Director and, as far as Jensen knows, not much of a talker. Right now he’s sitting in the open door of their OB-van. His face is weathered, fitting a voice that sounds like crunching gravel. He’s squinting against the sun, reminding Jensen of old Cowboys and Clint Eastwood.
Susan nods and pointedly looks at Richard. Stares him down even. After a moment Richard rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in defeat. “Whatever.”
Susan, Thomas, as well as Kevin and Matt, who have joined their round, all chuckle. Then Susan turns to him. “So, Jensen, what happened?”
He shrugs. “Heroin.” His boldness earns him four pairs of wide eyes. “I fell in with the wrong crowd. When I got out, it wasn’t unscathed. Obviously.” Smiling tentatively, he pockets his hands. Shrugs again.
“Huh,” Kevin says. “But you’re off it. Right?”
He nods.
“How long?” Matt asks.
“Going on seven weeks.” Since he last shot up, actually, not drug free but he’s not gonna be a nit-picker, here.
“Oh, uhm… that…” Susan works up a smile, but it looks strained.
“Doesn’t sound much, I know,” he admits. “But,” he says, crosses his chest, “still going strong. And no desire to go back.”
“How long did you use?” Kevin asks.
He hesitates then says, “Too long.”
Matt huffs a breath. “That long, huh?”
“A few scars,” Thomas says and motions at him. “That’s all?”
Jensen shakes his head. Averts his face. “No. I…” He trails off. Clears his throat. “I got AIDS.”
“AIDS?” Kevin’s eyes bulge out. He takes a step back. Susan’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth. Matt crosses his arms over his chest, looking pretty uncomfortable.
“Still think it was a good idea to talk about it, now?” Richard asks snidely, addressing all of them with a frown.
“You guys don’t have to worry…” Jensen tries. “I’m the one whose immune system is fucked. You guys just need to avoid large amounts of my blood and… you know.” It earns him a slightly disturbed chuckle from Kevin. The guy follows it with, “Guess that makes it okay for you to work on every set but ‘Twilight’.”
Jensen frowns confused. “Twilight?”
“Gay Vampires, dude,” Matt deadpans.
It makes everyone laugh despite themselves. Jensen’s seen it before. Done it himself. Using jokes to cope. He’ll take it.
Susan and Matt are still sporting shaky, skeptical smiles, but Jensen doesn’t mind. He didn’t expect a group hug, anyway. The general reaction could have been much worse.
“Alright,” Richard says. “Let’s get to work.” He claps his hands and everyone gets in position. Jensen takes a seat between Matt and the un-manned camera for the long shot. He picks up the stop-watch and glances around. Kevin’s fixing the microphones on the guest’s clothes. Matt and Richard adjust their headsets, testing their communication with Thomas in the OB-Van. Everyone’s falling easily into their routine, despite the info they just got about him. Knowing that they know, makes Jensen feel lighter. He inhales deeply, as he lets his gaze wander on. Then Richard moves the camera and light catches on the lens. The reflection makes Jensen blink, hard. His breath catches as the eye of the camera watches him. An image flashes behind his eyes. Sweaty, flushed skin. Heads, but no faces. A weight is threatening to crush the air from his chest.
But he knows it’s over. He knows it. So he forces his lungs to expand. To suck in air. “No more,” he says quietly. The black eye is still watching him. He stares it down. “No more from me." And nothing happens. It just faces back front. Susan and her guests put themselves in its line of sight like it’s nothing.
“Did you say something?” Richard asks. Jensen glances at him. Smiles and shakes his head. “Nah. All cool.”
There’s no nudity. No sleazebags. No H. No threats. Just honest to god work. And fun.
Jared
“Come on,” Jensen says. He’s dragging him up the stairs by his hands.
Reluctant, but no less excited Jared follows. A grin keeps tugging at his lips. But he still asks, “Are you really sure?”
Jensen laughs, and rolls his eyes. Then he leans forward. Their faces come close and their lips even closer and for a moment, Jared thinks Jensen’s going to kiss him. Hopes Jensen’s going to kiss him. But in the last second Jensen turns his face away. He doesn’t pull back, though. He leans in further and then his lips touch his neck. Jared’s eyes fall shut. He swallows, breathes in and bares his neck further. Enjoys the warm, soft sensation.
“Jensen,” he breathes.
Jensen hums against his skin. His hands wander up, over his chest to his neck. “’s nothing wrong with hanging out together. Kicking back and getting comfortable.”
“The couch…?”
“Hm… your bed’s bigger,” Jensen says and kneads his shoulders. “Thought I’d take care of you for a change.”
He smiles, gnaws at his lips. “How?”
At that Jensen sighs, and his shoulders sag. But a soft smile forms on his face. “For starters, how about a massage?”
***
“So,” Jensen says, after a while. Pats his back. “Nice and relaxed, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” he hums.
“Good,” Jensen says. The next moment, his hands vanish from his skin and the bed bounces as Jensen drops down by his side.
Jared glances over. Framed by his black, satin bed sheets, Jensen looks like a porcelain doll. Broken and glued back together, the scars still visible, but pretty beyond words nonetheless. Jared doesn’t know if it’s the scars, Jensen’s thin frame or his pale skin but he looks frail.
“I got a confession to make,” Jensen says, facing the ceiling.
He chuckles into his arms. “Do you?”
“I had a brief flashback today.”
Exhaling wearily, Jared closes his eyes. “Jensen-”
“Noting I can’t handle,” Jensen cuts in. “Just thought I’d tell you.”
“Okay,” he says, quietly.
“Okay?” Jensen asks. He sounds surprised. Like he expected him to start an argument. And if he’s honest, this morning he probably would have. But he’s seeing things differently, now.
“Yeah,” he says. “If you promise you can handle it then… okay.”
Jensen smiles and nods. “Promise.” He reaches out and brushes his hair behind his ear. Keeps a finger there. Jared can feel it curl into a strand. It’s nice. Easy and comfortable. He exhales, says, “Good. I don’t wanna spent our time arguing.”
An annoyed breath puffs against Jared’s eyelids. He opens them, comes face to face with Jensen’s weary face. “You’re still running a countdown in your head, aren’t you?”
Caught out, he swallows hard, blinks at Jensen, unable to get a word out.
Jensen’s face softens. “I ain’t the dying type.”
Jared huffs a laugh. “You mean like a cockroach?”
“Shut up,” Jensen laughs and shoves at his shoulder.
Grinning wearily, he rolls onto his side. “I know I may be worrying too much, but I can’t really help it.”
Jensen nods, but remains silent. He’s just watching him with a contemplative look on his face. Then a lopsided smile tugs at his lips. He tilts his chin up, and says, “come here.”
A little confused but curious, Jared lets Jensen touch him, guide him, until he’s resting with his head on Jensen’s chest.
“Look,” Jensen starts, as he holds him close. Entwines their free hands over his belly. “I got the best meds out there for my HIV. And for my heart,” he says, and squeezes his shoulder, “I got you.”
Jared’s breath catches. He lifts up slightly, to catch Jensen’s eyes. Jensen’s smiling down at him. “So, the way I see it,” he says, “I’m golden for the next 100 years.” He grins then wrinkles his forehead in a mock frown. “After that we gotta talk again, though.”
Jared can’t help the wide smile that breaks out on his face. “100 years, huh?”
“Give or take,” Jensen says and winks.
Jared laughs and rests his head back on Jensen’s chest. “You’re unbelievable.” But he’s got a point. Whether it’s a 100 years or only one, whether it boils down to months or weeks or days; If he realized one thing today, it’s that the most important thing isn’t how much time there’s left. It’s about what you make of it while you’re alive. And right now, as he listens to Jensen’s heart, it’s beating very much alive.
End of ‘Summer Days’
Timestamp: A Birthday in the Summer
Sequel: Last Day of Summer
(For those who'd like to follow Jensen's journey all the way to its end.)
Rating: R
Genre: AU, H/C
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Mentions of drug use, prostitution ; Violence
Word Count: ~ 6400
Disclaimer: The events described in this story are purely fictional.
A/N #1: Part of Summer Days
A/N #2: The San Antonio described in this story is fictional, therefore geographical inaccuracies are kindly to be ignored.
A/N #3: I'm sorry this took so long. I rewrote various parts of it about a dozen times.
Summary: Jensen's been surviving for the past two decades. Now he thinks it's time to live.
Summer Days
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
~ Winston Churchill
Day 8
Jensen
Jensen’s fresh out off the shower. He’s dressed only halfway, sitting on his bed. Bend over he’s tying his new desert boots. Getting ready for his job interview slash trial day.
Jared on the other hand, is moving around frantically. Pacing up and down, by Jensen’s door. His shirt’s buttoned up askew. It doesn’t seem like he noticed.
Jensen grins to himself. Huffs a breath and straightens up again. He leans back and quietly watches Jared, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Hey,” he calls.
Jared halts abruptly. His eyes snap over to him. Pupils blown.
“Jensen-” he starts, but breaks off again. His arms twitch and a hand shoots up to his mouth. Rubs at his lips. Lines fold his forehead. “What if… Yeah. What if,” Jared says, crossing the room with to strides, index finger pointed at him. Jensen startles, taken aback.
“Okay, okay,” Jared goes on, “So you say, you’re cool being around cameras… let’s assume that, okay? But your heart - the job’s gonna be stressful either way.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. So, that approach. He exhales a deep breath, hitches his shoulders with a smirk. “Right now, you’re closer to a heart attack than me.”
“Shut up! You-” Jared’s face hardens into stark lines. His finger holds Jensen at gun point.
“Jesus, Jared…” he gasps, holds up his open palms, trying to placate him. “I’ll be fine. It’s a local TV-station. Not a porn studio.”
He frowns when Jared doesn’t reply. The dark look on Jared’s face makes him queasy. “Seriously,” he says, trying to keep it light. “What are you so freaked about?”
Jared’s eyes shoot to the side. His teeth gnaw at his lips. It’s obvious he knows most of his worries are irrational. After a moment, Jared gives a curt snort. Glances back at him. Tilts his head and says, “Bend over.”
Jensen’s eyes widen and he huffs a laugh. Crosses his arms over his chest. “Now you are freaking me out, Jared.”
At first Jared frowns, not getting it. Then it apparently hits him. He grits his teeth. “This is all a big joke to you, huh?”
“No…” he says and sighs. Opens his arms again. “Ya’ ain’t making much sense, though.”
“Yeah…” Jared says, snidely. “Giving a shit about your health - that’s really crazy.”
“No, fuck, man, but watcha wanna do, huh?” He pushes off the bed. “Lock me up in here?”
Jared takes a step back, startled. “No.”
“Ya’ sure? ’cause that’s what it sounds like to me!”
“Jensen-”
He cuts Jared off. Blows up right in his face. “My mind’s not gonna snap. My heart won’t give out and I sure as fuck won’t get another fuckin’ disease just from touchin’ something!” By the end of his sentence, he’s shouting. He sucks in a greedy breath. His heart’s rapid firing. It’s not jumping, though. Not skipping steps. He’s okay.
Jared’s eyes flicker over him. “Jensen, I… I…” he trails off. Gives an empty shrug. It takes the heat out of Jensen. Jared looks pathetic. Exhausted. There are lines on Jared’s face that Jensen doesn’t remember. Dark shadows sit heavy beneath Jared’s gentle eyes.
Jensen clenches his jaw. Rasps a hand over his chin. “Sorry. I’m…” he breathes out slowly. “I’m okay. Why won’t ya’ believe me?”
“I want to, but…” Jared shrugs.
His history, yeah. He sighs. “When ya’ said ‘bend over’… Ya’ wanna check my shoulder, right?” Jensen turns, shows his back to Jared. He glances down, waits as Jared reaches out. Touches the KS lesions on his shoulder blade. Jared trails off. Sighs. “Your viral count’s so high…” His hand becomes a feathery touch on Jensen’s bare back. A shiver runs down Jensen’s spine. Warmth pools in his groin. He swallows hard. “’s why I got the new meds. I’ll be fine.”
“New meds… Right…” Jared mumbles. “We don’t know if they work any better. It’s only been a week since you came back home,” he says. “Maybe you should call… schedule the interview for next week.”
Jensen shakes his head, says, “No,” and steps away from Jared.
“Jensen…”
He ignores Jared. Instead plucks his new denim shirt from the bed. Pulls it on, buttons it up and tucks it into his pants. Tightens the shiny black leather belt another notch and turns to Jared. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, watching him with sad eyes.
Jensen pushes the compassion down. Instead spreads his arms, forces his voice light and asks, “So, how do I look?”
Jared sighs, but a soft smile forms on his lips. “Not bad, Johansson‘s got a good eye.”
“Hey! Just ‘cause he helped out, doesn’t mean I didn’t have a say in picking this stuff!” He pops his collar. “And I rock this shit.”
It earns him a chuckle as Jared steps closer. Flattens and straightens his collar again. Then Jared cups his face and rests their foreheads together. “I’m so fucking tired,” he admits, quietly.
“I know,” Jensen says, softly. With calm fingers, he starts to unbutton Jared’s dress shirt.
Jared blinks at him. Glances down. “Jensen?”
“Don’t worry… strictly G-rated. You missed a hole there.” He chuckles. Straightens Jared’s shirt and re-buttons it. When he’s done he pats Jared’s chest. Glances back up. Jared’s staring at him. His breathing has changed. So has the hold on his cheeks. Jensen knows what’s coming now. He closes his eyes, averts his face. A split second later, Jared’s lips brush against his cheek.
“Jensen-” Jared’s voice changes three times while saying his name. First there’s shock. Then there’s hurt. And then there’s just a huge amount of fear in it.
Jared tries to pull back, but Jensen doesn’t want to see his face. So he steps closer instead and wraps his arms around Jared. Buries his face in Jared’s shoulder. It hits him hard how well he fits there. How much Jared’s smell calms him. He thinks about the times he jerked off, thinking secretly about Jared. Remembers the first time ever he did it, watching Jared sleep. Remembers how it felt. How much feeling attraction messes with his head. He sucks in a rattling breath. “Not yet.”
Jared’s hands which have been hovering at his side, set down on his shoulders. Strong arms begin to return the embrace. “Okay.”
They stand like this for a while. Then Jensen slowly pulls back. Smiles tentatively. “Help me roll up the sleeves?”
Jared laughs, nods. His hands are quick. In no time Jensen’s sleeves are folded up neatly up to his elbows. But after Jared’s done, his fingers wrap around Jensen’s bare forearms. He strokes his thumb over the marred skin. His arms are healing, the marks fading, but there are scars, too, which they both know will never be invisible.
“Are you sure?” Jared asks.
He nods. “Open cards and all that.”
The door bell echoes through the house. Jared lets go of his arms. “Your ride’s here.”
He glances in the direction of the door. A little nausea rises in him at the thought that Jeff’s waiting for him. A little glee, too. It’s the beginning of a love-to-hate relationship. Turning back to Jared, he sucks in a deep breath, grins and smacks his cheeks. “Alright, see you later then. Wish me luck.”
“Alright. Good luck,” Jared says. Smiles. “Partner.”
***
“What are you so stoked about?”
Jeff’s dark voice is the first thing he hears upon leaving the house. Jeff’s leaning against his car. A black Mercedes S-class, tuned with a Carlsson RS design kit. He’s seen a few of these before. A car you don’t wanna spot in your rearview mirror. Especially at night. Right now, the sun reflects off the freshly polished black paint. Forces Jensen to squint his eyes. He smirks, says “Having an awesome guy as a partner. It’s lovely.” Non-chalantly, he sips at his coffee. Jeff’s face contorts into a mask of disgust. It suits his nauseatingly expensive looking clothes. He’s dressed in a tailored blue-ish black suit. His feet are clad in shiny, spotless slippers. The stuff looks more expensive than any Jared owns combined. Jeff’s arms are crossed in front of his chest, impatient. Disdain is palpable on his face. It makes him look like a guy who’s most comfortable doing business in the dark.
Jensen snorts, takes another drink. Then, because he can’t help it - provoking guys like that has become a knee-jerk reaction over the years - he holds out his travel mug. “Ya’ want some?”
Jeff gives an angry grunt. Pushes off the car and steps around to the driver’s side. Chuckling, Jensen slides into the passenger seat. Pulls the door shut with more force than necessary. He responds to Jeff’s glare with a mask of innocence. Leans back and enjoys the low rumble of the car.
“I’m surprised,” he says after a while, watching the houses fly by outside. He doesn’t need to check the meter to know Jeff’s going way past the speed limit.
“Yeah?” Jeff grunts. “Why’s that?”
“Thought for sure ya’d come up with some really sucky job. But instead... Cable-puller, that’s not so bad.” He smiles, glances at Jeff. The guy’s jaw is set so hard it looks about ready to break. Jensen huffs a laugh. “Ya’ thought I’d crack. Look at that… ya’ ain’t so different from your brother after all…”
White knuckles clutch the steering wheel. “I had to come up with some fuckin’ reason for recommending you.” He stops at a red light. Turns to him, grinning, shark teeth bared. “There ain’t many jobs that regard camera-whore as a qualification.”
Jensen nods, holds up his mug in a silent toast. “And yet ya’ found one. Got some experience in crawling through shit, huh?”
Jeff’s eyes bulge outward. He doesn’t notice the light switching to green. It takes the guy behind them honking to shake Jeff from his frozen stupor.
Sucking in a harsh breath, Jeff visibly fights for his composure. “Don’t get too cocky. It’s a dying business anyway. We’re splitting the second they’re done producing that ad for our firm.” A beat then Jeff shoots him a look. Jensen can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling. “You wanna make a bet?”
Jensen frowns. “What bet?”
“Who bites the dust first: you or that TV-station.”
He bites the inside of his cheek. That fucking bastard. Jeff’s grin widens. There’s no way he’s letting Jeff get to him, though. So he takes a sip of his coffee and forces the anger down. Drawls, “Nah…” and hitches one shoulder. “Don’t see any profit in that for me. Sure ya’ can relate to that.”
Jeff shoots him a condescending smile. “You wanna play with the big boys? Think some new clothes,” he flicks at Jensen’s shirt, “which suck by the way, will make you a business man?”
Smirking, he leans out of reach. “Dunno, do they make you one?”
Suddenly Jeff pulls over, hits the breaks. Jensen slams forward, collides hard with the dashboard. His travel mug falls into the foot well. He groans, painfully reminded of not having fastened the seat belt. Before he’s able to regain his bearings, Jeff’s hand slams down on his head. Presses him further into the rough plastic. “You little shit. You need to get something through to your tiny junkie-brain.” Jeff twists his face on the dashboard. Presses down harder. Jensen grits his teeth, tries to push the guy off but it’s futile. Jeff’s got 60 pounds on him.
So he stills and snarls, “Yeah, what’s that?” Tries to catch Jeff’s eye.
Jeff leans in close. His voice is calm, deadly even, when he says, “You’ll never be a business man. You’ll always be the product.”
Jensen’s chest constricts at the words. He swallows past the painful lump in his throat. No fuckin’ chance in hell he’ll back down. He forces a smirk on his lip. Says, “Dude… What ya’ call intimidation, I’ve come to known as foreplay.” He sucks in a rattling breath. “So get ya’ sick fucking hands off of me.”
Jeff gives him one last shove, then lets go.
He leans back, his face throbbing. A thumb to his lip confirms his suspicion. So does the bloody splotch on Jeff’s dashboard. Jeff’s eyes shoot from him to the smear. Then his hands shoot up to his head. “Fuck,” he mutters.
Jensen sucks in a breath. Rests his head back against the seat. Sighs and glances at Jeff, thumb pressed up against his lip. “Ya’ got a tissue?”
“Yeah,” Jeff says, distractedly and picks a pocket pack of Kleenex from the driver’s door compartment.
“Thanks,” he mutters. Picks a tissue and dabs it against his lip before he picks up his dropped travel mug. Luckily it hasn’t spilled much, but the rim’s dirty. He can’t drink the rest, not without risking another infection.
“Hey,” Jeff calls. He glances over. Jeff’s still holding out the Kleenex pack. He nods at the dashboard, says, “Aren’t you going to wipe that off, too?”
Jensen rolls his eyes, but plucks another tissue from the pack. While Jeff gets the car back on the road, Jensen cleans up his blood. When the dashboard’s as clean as it gets, he tosses the bundled up tissue into the foot well. Sinks back into the seat and glances out the window. Outside, it’s a nice day. The sun falls through the glass, warm, but not too hot. The sky is cloudless. A lot of birds enjoy the nice breeze. He watches them float in the vast sea up above, wings spread, weightless.
Slowly the blood on his lip dries, closes the split. He lets the tissue sink. “What’s this really about?” He asks, cutting the silence between them.
Jeff shoots him a brief glance. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, even if I spill the beans about your little chocolate-colored adventure, you really think anyone would believe me? Over you?”
A beat. Then Jeff says, “No.”
“So, why?”
“Just shut the fuck up,” Jeff says through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll bash your face in for good this time.”
“But you’d still drive me to that job interview, wouldn’t you?”
There’s no reply. But as Jensen looks over, there are new lines forming between Jeff’s eyes. His jaw is working on breaking down his teeth again.
Jensen grins, shakes his head. “Not my face ya’ wanna bash in, buddy,” he mumbles.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He turns away from Jeff, rests against the window. Looks like the guy has a conscience after all. And it’s twisting him up on the inside.
Jared
The doorbell jingles as Jared enters. The café is well frequented. Mostly people like him, jackets unbuttoned and ties loosened, using lunch break to escape the office for an hour. Mingled among them he spots a few students, too, books spread out on their tables. There’re a couple young mothers, too, rocking their babies while talking across a pieces of pie and cake. In the far corner sits an elderly couple. Quietly, not looking at each other, but no less in tune. Watching others while enjoying their company.
Jared halts for a moment. He’s surrounded by live in its entirety. He soaks it up, feels lighter as the warm feeling makes him smile. Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the gift card in his hand. He almost didn’t come. Didn’t feel like it, but now he’s glad he came. It might have been just what he needed.
“Jared! Hi!” A waitress stops by his side. She’s petite, dark haired and always has a friendly smile in store.
“Hi, Sandy,” he says. Leans down for a quick peck on her cheek. “How’s it?”
“Busy,” she says, hiking up her eyebrows. “But good. We’ve been expecting you. Do you want me to take you to your place or do you wanna go greet your sister first?” She waves over her shoulder at the door marked private. “Though I’m not sure she’s got a lot of time right now.”
“I figured,” he says. “I’ll see if I can catch her later.”
“Alright,” Sandy says. Then she turns and with a tilt of her head, beckons him to follow. She leads him to a quiet corner where a table for two is still empty. A little sign reads ‘booked’. “I’ll be right back with your order,” Sandy says and leaves him alone.
Smiling softly, Jared sinks down into a comfortable leather chair. From this spot he can watch the entire café. He releases a content smile. Plucks out the note Jensen left together with the gift certificate in his pocket.
Hey Jared,
Ten years ago I met you. A boy with a spark in his eyes that showed me there can be more to life than drugs and sex.
I still don’t know much about life. Just that it often doesn’t go as planned. But obsessing over it hardly ever helps.
Sometimes it’s enough to know we’re alive. And I want you to know that with you by my side, I can’t go down.
Love, Jensen
Gently tracing the lines of Jensen’s scratchy handwriting with a finger, Jared reads it once more. He doesn’t notice Sandy is back until she sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a plate in front of him. There’s a round cake on it, looking a little bit like a donut. It’s striped red and white with frosting. There’s writing on it in chocolate syrup, reading ‘U.S.S Jared’. It’s a sweet, edible life belt.
“You gotta enjoy it while it’s still warm,” Sandy points out.
He startles, stares at the cake and the note. Then he smiles softly and nods. “Yeah. I will.”
Sandy blinks at him, looking a little confused. But she regains her composure quickly. “Gotta go. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do. Thanks Sandy.”
As she leaves, he picks up the fork. The cake yields softly as he plunges it in, but it downright melts on his tongue. Underneath the frosting it’s chocolate cheesecake. His favorite. He hums in enjoyment. While he eats it, he takes out his phone, unable to wait any longer. And luckily, after he hits the call button, it doesn’t even take two rings, before Jensen’s low rumble echoes over the line. “Hey, you,” he says. “Did you find it?”
Jared hums around the fork.
He hears Jensen chuckle. “Take it that means yes.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, swallowing. “It’s… Thank you. I needed that.”
“I know,” Jensen says softly.
“So, how is your day so far?”
“It’s real good. Great, even. It’s not really cable-puller, like Jeff said. They’ll hire me as an intern, but they still pay me, so it’s cool. And the station is so small they said they’d let me help with pretty much everything. Richard - he’s the camera operator and my boss - he said he wants to train me to operate a camera, help out on outside broadcasts and stuff. In fact we’re just about to leave to record a talk at some restaurant,” Jensen says. “And the folks, here - everybody’s really cool. Normal, you know?”
“That sounds real great.” There’s still a bitter part in him that’s heeding doubts, but he still means it. He figures he’ll always worry. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have some faith that things are finally looking up for real. Jensen sounds genuinely excited.
“It is,” Jensen says. “Can’t wait to tell you all about it later.”
He smiles at that. “Me neither. Do you know when you’ll be home, tonight?”
“Around six, I think. Depends on…” Jensen trails off.
He frowns. “Depends on what?”
There’s a beat, then Jensen sighs. “Richard. He’ll give me a ride.”
“What about Jeff?”
“He’s got other things to do.”
Pinching his nose, Jared sighs. So much for having faith in the good fate. “Oh, really? What things? It’s his day off. You guys had a deal. It’s the least-”
“It’s not like that,” Jensen interrupts him. “I told him he doesn’t need to pick me up.”
“Did you guys fight?”
Jensen huffs a breath. “Somewhat, but that’s not…” A pause. “There’s something he and his wife need to talk about,” he says evasively.
“What?”
“Let’s just say he’s taking on responsibility for his actions, alright? You’ll probably find out soon enough,” Jensen says. “I only got a few more minutes. Can’t we talk about something more… fun than Jeff?”
At that he can’ keep from chuckling. “Okay… Knowing Jeff, I better enjoy the calm before the storm, huh?”
“That’s the spirit,” Jensen laughs.
He grins. “So what do you want talk about?”
“Well,” Jensen says, and Jared can hear him smile, “How about what we’ll do tonight…”
Jensen
After a reluctant good-bye, he pockets his phone. Still smiling, he rests his head back. The red-brick, timber-framed wall is cool against his back. A warm breeze tugs at his hair. He inhales the fresh air of the countryside. The thought makes him chuckle. They’re still in San Antonio, but this place is pretty secluded. The high trees and the wide field surrounding the building makes it easy to forget the city around them.
“Hey.” Richard’s voice makes him look up. “You okay?”
He rolls his eyes, grinning and straightens up. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“’s just, you were looking a bit weak in the knees there.”
“Nah, just enjoying the place.”
At that Richard nods appreciatively. “It’s not bad. Might take my wife out here someday.”
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” He grins, remembering Jared’s word from this morning.
“You’re married?” Richard asks. He sounds surprised.
Jensen shakes his head. “No. I got a partner.”
“A guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
He huffs a laugh. “What?”
“Didn’t think you’d…” Richard scratches awkwardly at his chin. “Not that that’s bad, right? Being gay. I mean I never met a gay before.”
At that Jensen shrugs detachedly and smirks. “Don’t ask me. I’m biased.”
“Guess I gotta figure it out by myself, then.” Richard leans against the wall next to him, smiling comradely. He pulls out a pack of smoke, picks one then offers it to him.
Jensen sucks in a deep breath. It’s tempting. But he shakes his head no and exhales. “Thanks, but I quit.”
“Because of your HIV?”
“In part,” he says. “More because I’m nearing a dead end in general.”
“Yeah…” Richard drawls. Then smiles awkwardly. “I’d enjoy the ride.”
He grins. “I do. Doesn’t mean I’ve to redline it.”
Richard looks at him baffled, his finger hovering over the lighter switch. “Touché.”
Their attention is drawn by the sound of crunching gravel. Kevin’s stepping around the corner. The sound operator flicks his smoke stub on the pebbled ground. “Guys, Susan and the rest of her guests are here.”
Jensen glances at Richard. Shrugging, Richard tosses his unlit smoke. “Alright then. Work, work, work…” He grins and pats him on the shoulder. Together, they follow Kevin back to the front of the rural building. It serves as a restaurant, specialized in European cuisine. The design looks foreign to Jensen and he figures it’s probably European, too. The front area is looking pretty chaotic by now. They had to move tables and chairs, to set up their set. In a triangle of lights and cameras they’ve set up two tables with a total of four chairs. It’s gonna look great on TV, though. He took a look through the fixed-position camera that’s going to record the talk in a long shot. He had watched Richard set it up and he’s gotta admit the guy really has an eye for it. The set is framed nicely, with parts of the large, wooden gate and brick wall visible in the background. The decorative inscription over the entrance frames the upper part of the shot.
Jensen sweeps his gaze over the people standing in front of the building. He spots three people he hasn’t seen before. One of them, a woman, is pointing at the house. Describing ‘Little Europe’ as a restaurant in the charming, rural design of a typical Low German house. Jensen figures she must be Susan, the host of the talk they’re gonna shoot. Early forties, with an expression on her face that’s stern but not cold. The look of a person who knows her business. She’s got dark blond hair that falls past her shoulders onto a light floral blouse. Fitting black pants seem to stretch her legs and high-heeled shoes give her another couple inches. It doesn’t seem to be a decision solely out of vanity. Even now she still barely reaches past the shoulders of the man next to her. He’s dresses as a chef, nodding appreciatively at the building. He’s of average height, slim with short black hair and a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. “Very nice,” he says. “Do they serve exclusively German cuisine or-”
“On our menu we have various dishes from the Central European cuisine,” another man explains. It’s the guy who owns this place. He’s wearing a black suit and a blond shock of hair. Jensen’s pretty sure he spotted blue eyes earlier. He’s not entirely sure, though, if this guy is really from Europe or if he’s just trying too hard with hair dye and colored contacts. It seems a bit cliché. Maybe his name was, too, but Jensen can’t remember it.
One thing’s for sure, the guy’s pretty nervous. He tries to hide it behind an awkward smile but it’s futile. Even though he’s already been in make-up, his skin’s glistering with sweat.
Jensen feels for him. From what he understood, this is the pre-opening day of the guy’s restaurant. God knows what else he’s got on his mind on top of being on a talk show.
He’s shaking the hands of the new arrivals, including that of the third talk guest, who hasn’t said anything yet. She’s a woman whose age Jensen finds hard to guess. The lady is wearing a non-descript grey, pant suit with a violet blouse underneath. She’s a bit heavy set, with a soft girlish face, but her straight-cut hairdo makes her look ten years older. It doesn’t sit well with her. A glance to his colleagues confirms they share Jensen’s opinion.
While they exchange pleasantries, Heather, a pretty blond woman with a pony tail steps up to the group. Jensen’s met her briefly at the Station, but he didn’t know she was responsible for the make-up until she arrived about half an hour ago and spread her make-up kit on one of the outdoor tables. Matt, the second camera operator has been chatting her up ever since. He’s a young guy, probably fresh out of college. He’s athletic, but rather on the wiry side. His smile is wide and friendly, but he’s missing one front tooth. Jensen’s not decided yet if it adds character or just makes him look a little stupid. But he’s not really in the place to judge, anyway and the guy seems nice enough. He’s watching after Heather, just short of leering at her butt, as she guides the quiet woman in the pant-suit through the set to a chair.
For a second it looks like one of the woman’s shoes is going to catch on a cable and tear down a light. Jensen’s about to jump in, when the woman seems to notice and lifts her foot a little higher.
“Hey, Jackles!” Richard’s perky voice makes him turn. At his side stands Susan. Richard waves him over. “Jensen this is Susan Parker. Susan, meet our new guy: Jensen Ackles. He’ll show you the time.”
Jensen nods politely. “Nice to meet ya’ ma’am.”
A smile softens her face. “Please, call me Susan. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Jensen. May I call you Jensen?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Okay, good. So, Jensen, you’re going to show me the time?”
He nods.
“I already told him the general gist,” Richard says. “You two just need to agree on the intervals.”
“Alright,” Susan says. “We have segments of eleven minutes, so I’d like for you to show me when there’re only three minutes, one minute and thirty seconds left.”
“Okay. Uhm… how?”
Susan frowns at Richard, who hikes up his shoulders apologetically. “We don’t have the printed-out numbers here. They weren’t in the usual box.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Well then,” she says and turns back to him. “Just hold up your fingers. Make sure you hold them up high enough and for a bit of time, so I can see them.” Susan lifts her right hand to demonstrate it. “Three, two and one and for thirty seconds you hold your index finger out horizontally.”
It’s easy enough, but Jensen mimics her once, just to proof he got it. When he does, Susan’s eyes fall on the marred skin on his forearm. She glances him over once before she looks him back in the eyes. “Oh dear, what happened to your arms?”
Jensen’s about to start explaining himself, when Richard throws an arm around his shoulders. “It’s a long story. Right?”
Susan’s eyes switch between them. She frowns. “Is there a problem?”
“No…” Richard says, with an awkward laugh. “But, it’s his first day. We don’t wanna bother him with questions.”
“Nah, it’s ok,” Jensen says. “That is, if you’re okay with me telling her.”
“Yes, sure, I just thought…” Richard trails off. Shrugs. “It’s not something I would like to talk about.”
At that he can’t help but laugh. “’s that why no one’s asked me, yet? ‘cause I’ve seen the looks I got from some folks at the station. Did you tell everyone not to mention it?”
“Well, yeah,” Richard says. “I don’t want anyone making a fuss. Especially when we gotta see how you work with us. Don’t need you worrying about some nosey-rosey breathing down your neck.”
Jensen can’t help a fond chuckle. “I appreciate that,” he says with a smile. “But if I’m going to work around everybody, you gotta let the guys talk to me.”
“He’s got a point,” Thomas’s voice makes all of them turn their head. He’s their Technical Director and, as far as Jensen knows, not much of a talker. Right now he’s sitting in the open door of their OB-van. His face is weathered, fitting a voice that sounds like crunching gravel. He’s squinting against the sun, reminding Jensen of old Cowboys and Clint Eastwood.
Susan nods and pointedly looks at Richard. Stares him down even. After a moment Richard rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in defeat. “Whatever.”
Susan, Thomas, as well as Kevin and Matt, who have joined their round, all chuckle. Then Susan turns to him. “So, Jensen, what happened?”
He shrugs. “Heroin.” His boldness earns him four pairs of wide eyes. “I fell in with the wrong crowd. When I got out, it wasn’t unscathed. Obviously.” Smiling tentatively, he pockets his hands. Shrugs again.
“Huh,” Kevin says. “But you’re off it. Right?”
He nods.
“How long?” Matt asks.
“Going on seven weeks.” Since he last shot up, actually, not drug free but he’s not gonna be a nit-picker, here.
“Oh, uhm… that…” Susan works up a smile, but it looks strained.
“Doesn’t sound much, I know,” he admits. “But,” he says, crosses his chest, “still going strong. And no desire to go back.”
“How long did you use?” Kevin asks.
He hesitates then says, “Too long.”
Matt huffs a breath. “That long, huh?”
“A few scars,” Thomas says and motions at him. “That’s all?”
Jensen shakes his head. Averts his face. “No. I…” He trails off. Clears his throat. “I got AIDS.”
“AIDS?” Kevin’s eyes bulge out. He takes a step back. Susan’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth. Matt crosses his arms over his chest, looking pretty uncomfortable.
“Still think it was a good idea to talk about it, now?” Richard asks snidely, addressing all of them with a frown.
“You guys don’t have to worry…” Jensen tries. “I’m the one whose immune system is fucked. You guys just need to avoid large amounts of my blood and… you know.” It earns him a slightly disturbed chuckle from Kevin. The guy follows it with, “Guess that makes it okay for you to work on every set but ‘Twilight’.”
Jensen frowns confused. “Twilight?”
“Gay Vampires, dude,” Matt deadpans.
It makes everyone laugh despite themselves. Jensen’s seen it before. Done it himself. Using jokes to cope. He’ll take it.
Susan and Matt are still sporting shaky, skeptical smiles, but Jensen doesn’t mind. He didn’t expect a group hug, anyway. The general reaction could have been much worse.
“Alright,” Richard says. “Let’s get to work.” He claps his hands and everyone gets in position. Jensen takes a seat between Matt and the un-manned camera for the long shot. He picks up the stop-watch and glances around. Kevin’s fixing the microphones on the guest’s clothes. Matt and Richard adjust their headsets, testing their communication with Thomas in the OB-Van. Everyone’s falling easily into their routine, despite the info they just got about him. Knowing that they know, makes Jensen feel lighter. He inhales deeply, as he lets his gaze wander on. Then Richard moves the camera and light catches on the lens. The reflection makes Jensen blink, hard. His breath catches as the eye of the camera watches him. An image flashes behind his eyes. Sweaty, flushed skin. Heads, but no faces. A weight is threatening to crush the air from his chest.
But he knows it’s over. He knows it. So he forces his lungs to expand. To suck in air. “No more,” he says quietly. The black eye is still watching him. He stares it down. “No more from me." And nothing happens. It just faces back front. Susan and her guests put themselves in its line of sight like it’s nothing.
“Did you say something?” Richard asks. Jensen glances at him. Smiles and shakes his head. “Nah. All cool.”
There’s no nudity. No sleazebags. No H. No threats. Just honest to god work. And fun.
Jared
“Come on,” Jensen says. He’s dragging him up the stairs by his hands.
Reluctant, but no less excited Jared follows. A grin keeps tugging at his lips. But he still asks, “Are you really sure?”
Jensen laughs, and rolls his eyes. Then he leans forward. Their faces come close and their lips even closer and for a moment, Jared thinks Jensen’s going to kiss him. Hopes Jensen’s going to kiss him. But in the last second Jensen turns his face away. He doesn’t pull back, though. He leans in further and then his lips touch his neck. Jared’s eyes fall shut. He swallows, breathes in and bares his neck further. Enjoys the warm, soft sensation.
“Jensen,” he breathes.
Jensen hums against his skin. His hands wander up, over his chest to his neck. “’s nothing wrong with hanging out together. Kicking back and getting comfortable.”
“The couch…?”
“Hm… your bed’s bigger,” Jensen says and kneads his shoulders. “Thought I’d take care of you for a change.”
He smiles, gnaws at his lips. “How?”
At that Jensen sighs, and his shoulders sag. But a soft smile forms on his face. “For starters, how about a massage?”
***
“So,” Jensen says, after a while. Pats his back. “Nice and relaxed, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” he hums.
“Good,” Jensen says. The next moment, his hands vanish from his skin and the bed bounces as Jensen drops down by his side.
Jared glances over. Framed by his black, satin bed sheets, Jensen looks like a porcelain doll. Broken and glued back together, the scars still visible, but pretty beyond words nonetheless. Jared doesn’t know if it’s the scars, Jensen’s thin frame or his pale skin but he looks frail.
“I got a confession to make,” Jensen says, facing the ceiling.
He chuckles into his arms. “Do you?”
“I had a brief flashback today.”
Exhaling wearily, Jared closes his eyes. “Jensen-”
“Noting I can’t handle,” Jensen cuts in. “Just thought I’d tell you.”
“Okay,” he says, quietly.
“Okay?” Jensen asks. He sounds surprised. Like he expected him to start an argument. And if he’s honest, this morning he probably would have. But he’s seeing things differently, now.
“Yeah,” he says. “If you promise you can handle it then… okay.”
Jensen smiles and nods. “Promise.” He reaches out and brushes his hair behind his ear. Keeps a finger there. Jared can feel it curl into a strand. It’s nice. Easy and comfortable. He exhales, says, “Good. I don’t wanna spent our time arguing.”
An annoyed breath puffs against Jared’s eyelids. He opens them, comes face to face with Jensen’s weary face. “You’re still running a countdown in your head, aren’t you?”
Caught out, he swallows hard, blinks at Jensen, unable to get a word out.
Jensen’s face softens. “I ain’t the dying type.”
Jared huffs a laugh. “You mean like a cockroach?”
“Shut up,” Jensen laughs and shoves at his shoulder.
Grinning wearily, he rolls onto his side. “I know I may be worrying too much, but I can’t really help it.”
Jensen nods, but remains silent. He’s just watching him with a contemplative look on his face. Then a lopsided smile tugs at his lips. He tilts his chin up, and says, “come here.”
A little confused but curious, Jared lets Jensen touch him, guide him, until he’s resting with his head on Jensen’s chest.
“Look,” Jensen starts, as he holds him close. Entwines their free hands over his belly. “I got the best meds out there for my HIV. And for my heart,” he says, and squeezes his shoulder, “I got you.”
Jared’s breath catches. He lifts up slightly, to catch Jensen’s eyes. Jensen’s smiling down at him. “So, the way I see it,” he says, “I’m golden for the next 100 years.” He grins then wrinkles his forehead in a mock frown. “After that we gotta talk again, though.”
Jared can’t help the wide smile that breaks out on his face. “100 years, huh?”
“Give or take,” Jensen says and winks.
Jared laughs and rests his head back on Jensen’s chest. “You’re unbelievable.” But he’s got a point. Whether it’s a 100 years or only one, whether it boils down to months or weeks or days; If he realized one thing today, it’s that the most important thing isn’t how much time there’s left. It’s about what you make of it while you’re alive. And right now, as he listens to Jensen’s heart, it’s beating very much alive.
End of ‘Summer Days’
Timestamp: A Birthday in the Summer
Sequel: Last Day of Summer
(For those who'd like to follow Jensen's journey all the way to its end.)