The Jungle Book 2 of 5

Jun 28, 2011 01:20

Back to Part One





"Did you eat or drink anything on-board?"

"No, I had my coffee. Are you sure? I mean, not to be self-important, but there's an entire industry of kidnapping for income in some countries."

"I saw Titus drinking a bottle from that flat." Jared pointed at the bottles of Gatorade spilled from the broken cooler and rolling all over the carpet. "I brought my own drink, you had coffee. Your -" Jared took a breath. "Peter took a Gatorade from me." Jensen nodded. "Poison doesn't equate with ransom. We didn't drink any, so we haven't been poisoned, but we're not taking a chance on any of the drinks on the plane. Whatever it is they're looking for, we don't want to be anywhere near this plane."

Jensen looked at him incredulously. "All the courses say to stay where you are and let them find you. We just have to tough it out until they come looking for us. They'll follow the flight plan; the transponder sends a signal when it’s kicked hard. Easy."

"Courses?" asked Jared. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised that someone with a bodyguard had bothered with personal safety and survival courses, but it was another interesting thing about Jensen. "Are all the 'courses' in possession of all the facts?" He gestured at the UAV control hanging from the panel.

"Well, no, but -"

"Jensen we have to go now. Do you want to be around when they come for the plane? We know what they did."

"You make a valid point."

Jared went forward again and pulled a portfolio out of a pocket at the back of his seat. He looked at it, undecided.

"Little reading material?"

"Charts." Jared frowned. "I don't know, I guess we can always use them for kindling if they're useless."

"Charts... like maps? Maps are good."

"Maps are good. Except these are Jepps, for flying, not so much for topography or surface navigation."

Jared opened compartments and pulled anything useful out and left the rest.

"We're in the jungle. What are you going to do with all those space blankets?"

"Shelter." He held them up.

Jensen reached automatically with his right hand. "Right, ow!"

"You okay?"

"Better than Peter."

"I'm sorry, man."

Jensen waved away the comment. "No real galley in a Lear, but, aha!" He slid a small panel aside. "We've got peanuts, and a case of Gatorade that we can't trust." He barked a laugh. "Minibar's full."

"Typical for a charter. Five hour flight. First aid kit's right there on the seat--"

"I'm looking at it. Though I'll warn you now..."

"Don't tell me it's empty!" said Jared indignantly, as he turned to the head.

"No, actually, I was going to say I have no idea what we want."

"Fuck. There's only the one roll of toilet paper." He came back and rummaged through the kit. "Tylenol and DEET. Oh, and condoms." He waggled his eyebrows and flipped to the other side. "Oh good, splint, elastic bandage, everything we need for your wrist."

"Tylenol?" asked Jensen. He reached for the packets.

Jared slid his hand to the back of the seat and crouched in the aisle, rummaging in the first aid kit across from Jensen, tearing tape with his teeth. He left a neat row of tape strips ready to go on the arm of the broken leather seat opposite him, and gave Jensen's hand a gentle squeeze. "Let's get you out of that shirt."

Jensen looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'm going to have to splint that wrist now. I can give you something strong for the pain if you want."

Jensen shook his head, and tried to unbutton his shirt, but his right hand would not cooperate. He grunted in frustration.

Jared leaned closer, well within Jensen's personal space, and undid the buttons. Jensen was breathing rapidly - was it just from pain and shock? And if Jared kept thinking like that, he'd do more harm than good, so he kept his eyes resolutely on the shirt buttons, and tried to pretend his hands weren't shaking. Maybe Jensen wouldn't notice.

Pushing the dress shirt off Jensen's shoulder, Jared settled him back in the seat and took his wrist as gently as he could, watching Jensen's eyes for signs of pain. They were a different color this morning, lighter green, more brown flecks. Jared scolding himself and filed the memory along with lips and freckles. Talking through what he was doing, he wrapped Jensen's wrist with soft gauze, and gently placed the splint under it. A roll of bandages went under his palm, making his hand arch, and Jensen winced at the pull of the injured muscles and tendons. Jared kept talking, nonsense words, low and soft, like he was gentling a frightened puppy. He finished wrapping the elastic bandage around the splint, and brushed a kiss over the tips of Jensen's fingers.

The summer wool trousers did nothing to camouflage Jensen's reaction.

"Is that for me?" asked Jared, mischief lighting his eyes.

"No," answered Jensen flatly. "I don't... I'm not..." he stammered.

Jared rocked back on his heels, noting the blush creeping up Jensen’s neck. "You know we’re in the jungle," he said, thoughtfully.

​"Your point?" asked Jensen, still not meeting his eyes.

"A hundred miles from anyone." Jared thought he was getting the lay of the land pretty clearly.

"Probably closer to whoever brought down the plane," snapped Jensen.

"Okay, yeah, whatever,” said Jared, waving a hand, “I’m saying that there are no closets here."

"There will be when we get out. Reporters, board meetings, stockholders, IPO -" He trailed off.

Jared wondered if Jensen knew what he’d confessed. "So, you just, what, turn it off?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No, I just don’t turn it on."

Jared’s pulse pounded like the remembered backbeat at the club. "Could've fooled me," he mused, thinking of the warm length of Jensen he’d held in his arms, and how much he still wanted him.

"Are we done here?" asked Jensen, impatiently.

Jared looked at the splint, and then at Jensen's lap, with a smirk. "So not done here."

"Your bedside manner is entirely inappropriate," Jensen chided, his cheeks stained red.

"You're not in a bed," said Jared. "You gonna change, or walk in those clothes?" Jared unzipped Jensen's case and flipped it open. He looked at Peter's shrouded form, then grabbed another blanket and went to the cockpit.

When he came back, Jensen was wearing a t-shirt and sweats that looked - and smelled - slightly used

"Here, take his hat.” Jared threw Titus' hat to Jensen. "What size are your feet?"

​​​“Ew, no. I've got my gym shoes."

"They look... um... delicate? And expensive. The boots will cover your ankles and lower legs in case you step on a snake."

"They're three year old Adidas Micropacers, I don't remember what I paid for them, and I'm not wearing a dead man's boots. This discussion is now closed."

"Jensen." Jared looked at him disapprovingly.

Jensen sighed. "What size are they?"

"Seven."

Jensen snorted. "Maybe for Cinderella."

"Fine." Jared bent to tie Jensen's shoes, then reached into his backpack and slid a big Ziploc out to check the contents.

"What's that?"

"Survival kit."

"You carry a survival kit?"

"Never leave home without it. Flashlight, compass, large knife, that kind of thing." He grinned at Jensen. "I carry a Swiss Army Knife and duct tape, too. I was going hiking near Cartagena when I got swapped to your flight. Did you bring sunscreen?"

“For a flight to Dallas?”

“You know that you can actually get a third degree sunburn? Welcome to the tropics. With those freckles, I'll bet you burn." He thought for a minute about where else Jensen might have freckles, blinked and went back to first aid kit. "Here, there isn't much, but what there is, is SPF50. What are you doing?"

Jensen rummaged on the floor for his laptop. "Dammit. I need some of this data."

"You're not going to get a connection. Your aircard is pining for the fjords, too."​

"I was thinking more along the lines of records of who we are and the most efficient way to access banking, unless you were planning to get to the nearest city and sweet talk the mayor into a job as a barkeep for pesos. Also, the company has these pesky trade secrets I'm supposed to keep safe. Worth millions?”

“For the record, I have tended bar for pesos. Think. You're the one wearing a hatful of flash drives!"

"You'd prefer fishing lures?"

“One of them might have space." He snatched the hat off Jensen's head and studied the chain. "Who knew Titus had a thing for the shiny? That’s not just a rhinestone bauble. Lookit.” He slid his thumb on the underside of crystal-covered ladybug in his hands, and the familiar rectangle of a USB adapter poked from the back end. “The ladybug poops data.”

Jensen paused, blinked, and shook his head. “Okay, now I can’t unsee it. Who would use a rhinestone covered jump drive?”

“Teen girls writing Twilight fanfic in study hall on school computers? And my aunt, who has one like that.”

Jensen snatched the hat back. “This is a 4 Gig, and this one is an 8, but this is only 1250 Meg. How many gigs of data are on this thing?” He turned the hat in his hands.

“Enough to keep it on your head in a breeze, I’m hoping." Jared grinned when he saw the tiniest drive. "Here, this one's a micro," he said as he tugged it free of the hat. "If it's not full, it'll do the trick. It's called a mosquito. The only good kind of mosquito in the jungle. Real ones carry malaria, but this one," he handed it over, "will apparently carry banking info and corporate secrets. Don't forget to download your little black book."

Jensen snatched it from his hand, replying absently, "Don't have one." He slipped the cap off, slid the tiny drive into the socket with exaggerated care, then hit a few keys.

Jared toed out of his dress shoes and stripped his dress socks, studying Jensen all the while. No panic, that was good, and the prissiness seemed to have gone as well. He pulled thick athletic socks on and laced the hiking boots that had been in his pack.

"Overwriting the data on the hard drive. We good to head out? I'm never leaving civilization again."

"Put on your dress shirt. You want all the protection from bugs we can get," Jared advised. "Passport, ID?"

Jensen shrugged on the shirt and took his wallet out of the discarded suit jacket. "No pockets."

Jared held up his own identification, and slid both sets into his back pocket.

​Jensen glared at the flash drive in his hand. "Where am I going to put this?"

"Back on the hat? It's on a clip. Use it as a zipper pull."

"Yeah. Very exclusive, moisture-wicking sweatpants, no zipper."

Jared grinned. "'S what I like about cargo shorts. Lots of pockets." He clipped the drive onto the back pocket zipper of his cargo shorts and zipped it closed. "There, now our identification is all in one spot, and you can keep an eye on it. Or my ass. Let’s get moving.”

"Seriously? First you crashed a plane in the middle of the jungle and now you're flirting?"

Raising an eyebrow, Jared said, "I was flirting when I found the condoms. I'll have to remember you lack an innuendo detector."

"No, I just keep it turned off."

"No innuendo detector, no black book. Libido switched off. Do you even have a life?"

"Easier to keep it professional. Out of town, for hire, means out of sight and out of mind. I have my reasons."

"Did you think I was a prostitute?

"I think you were a mistake." Jensen tried for nonchalant. "I'm a confirmed bachelor."

"Dude, that went out with spats and ascots." Jensen frowned, and Jared back-pedaled. "Are we still pretending we haven't met?"

Jensen grimaced. "Jensen. As you know."

"So, Jensen. No nickname?"

​"No."

"No?"

"Last time someone called me 'Jenny', I was nine." He looked thoughtful. "Had to learn to pitch left that summer."

Jared just looked at him.

"I told him to quit, he shoved me into the bleachers and broke my arm, I broke his nose."

"Jensen it is."​



Hauling ass through a steaming jungle was nothing like working out in the gym. Jensen was hot and sweating within moments of leaving the plane. It wasn't just humidity, either; actual streams of water flowed off of every other low-hanging leaf. I suppose that's why they call it a rain forest, Jensen thought.

Jared paused near one of the leaves, fiddling with their supplies. "What are you doing?" Jensen asked.

"Filling this water bag." Jared held the wide mouth of his collapsible water bottle under the torrent pouring off the leaf.

"Great! I am kind of thirsty."

Jared dropped two tablets into the bag and shook it. "Won't be safe to drink for about a half hour."

"It's rain water," Jensen protested.

"Sure is. Coming off a banana leaf. Who knows what it's washing off of there. Monkey shit, probably. Let the water purification tablets do their thing."

"How many of those tablets do we have?"

"We'll be fine, Jensen, just concentrate on moving."​

"I'm not five, Jared. I know you're the expert, but -"

"Two tablets to a quart of water. We need about a gallon of water a day, apiece. We'll get some of that from fruit. I have 48 more tablets."

Jensen did quick math. "Four quarts to a gallon. That's about three days worth."

"Yup. You should be safely back in your boardroom by then."

"If not?"

"Lot of things we can do."

"Like what? What if we run out?" Jensen was genuinely curious. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't in a full on panic, but Jared seemed to know what he was doing.

"We can boil it, use a solar filter."

Jensen snorted. "You can probably make a water purifier from two credit cards and a piece of glass."

"One credit card, a piece of glass, a length of plastic tubing and a salad spinner," Jared said. "I bet you can convert currency in your head and keep track of time zones without a fancy watch."

"Better, I can even convert to Daylight Savings Time without stuttering."

"See, and I put the wrong year on my checks until February each year."

"Online bill paying. Make it easy on yourself."

They tromped in friendly silence for a moment. Jensen paused at a clear space and stood with his mouth open to the sky. Rain pulled his hair back and he shook his head, slinging water around before rubbing his palm over his scalp and slicking it backwards one handed. He could hear the PR director's wince and grinned.

​"So you're a boy scout who can recognize a UAV transceiver when it's covered in soot."

"You were behind me and you spotted it, too," said Jared.

Jensen gave him a look, then shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, I know UAVs. It's the business."

"I thought you were an executive. Now you're an engineer?"

"I’m head of a family-owned business that makes navigational equipment for boats, trains, and planes."

"Huh, which means you type a hundred words a minute and can understand a stock portfolio. Bet you can't build a solar water purifier, even if I spot you the salad spinner."

"Ninety words a minute and I can discuss the ramification of the QRS11 ITAR ruling with a law firm until your eyes glaze. Actually, my record for that is fifteen seconds, but I was talking to a patent lawyer so he was halfway there when I started. If you're spotting me the spinner, let's up the challenge and make a still, instead. Agave grows in Mexico."

"Mexico’s north of here."

"How far?"

"We’ll find out."

Jensen blinked. "Are we seriously walking to Mexico? "

"Don’t be silly. We’re walking to Costa Domingo. It’s closer."

"Thank goodness we have a plan."

"I've found from past experiences that the tighter your plan, the more likely you are to run into something unpredictable."

"So, goodness has nothing to do with it?"

"Always nice to find a Mae West fan in the wilds," Jared grinned.

"Hell of a woman." Jensen liked Jared's sense of humor. He was worried though, that this felt more like flirting than banter, and that should just not be happening.

"Not my type, but..."

"You have a type?"

"I do now," he leered at Jensen. "We need to look for a place to bivouac."

"What are you, ex-military?" asked Jensen. He desperately needed to change the subject; his innuendo detector might have been switched on in the crash.

"Turned my talents to other things."

​"Uh huh."

Jared closed his eyes and put his hands up. He tilted his head to the right, looking for something, and nodded. "All right, that’s north and that’s south, we go this way. Southeast, staying as close to the stream as we can. Villages and towns are on the streams, we should be able to get help and get out." Jensen wondered what was really going on, and how he'd walked away from a plane crash. Jared was still talking. "Whatever they want, let's not give it to them, c'mon." He started to walk in the direction he'd indicated.

Jensen began to follow him, making a face at the squelching sound of pulling his feet from the mud. "You were right," said Jensen in disgust. "These shoes suck."

"They look like very nice shoes," Jared said, not bothering to hide his laugh.

"They are very nice cross-trainers and work well on treadmills or gym floors."

"So you're admitting you should have taken the boots," teased Jared.

"I'm doing no such thing. They're just not so hot on grass and squished bugs."

"Or mud."

"That either."

Jared laughed, and abruptly lost his footing, sliding down a short incline in his hiking boots. Jensen had to bend over, he was laughing so hard. His own feet slid from under him, sending his arms windmilling, trying to regain his balance. The motion overbalanced him, and sent him skidding down the incline on his ass. He and Jared sat on the detritus of the jungle floor and leaned against each other, too weak to stand until the laughter stopped.

"Good thing you’ve got me, eh?" said Jared, hauling Jensen to his feet. "You ever been in the jungle before?"

"Closest I've been is reading Upton Sinclair."

"Excellent observation of the state of turn-of-the-century labor," Jared said.

"You read, Flyboy?"

"Asshole."​



Morgan looked at the downed plane and cursed under his breath. One wing was gone, the fuselage had burst on impact, and it trailed vines like the streamers on a kite. "Collins, take a quick look-see. Speight, Cohen, we're looking for a computer, some kind of ledger. Count the dead, and don't forget the box in the dash." He wouldn't be able to use the plane, but that was secondary to getting the data.

"Two dead guys, boss, one of 'em's that Titus guy. Someone's hurt, but there's two of them walked outta here," offered Cohen.

"Two, huh?"

"Yeah, two set of tracks, busted apart first aid kit. Looks like pain drugs, splint, wrapping, gauze missing. We should throw this in the jeep, just in case. We don't have any of this gear with us."

"You think we're gettin' hurt?" Morgan drawled, looking oddly at Cohen.

Cohen shrugged. "My grandma always said, 'better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.' You keep shootin' people, we'll need the defibrillator. I damn near had a heart attack."

"The box is gone, looks like the dash got ripped out, maybe in the crash," called Speight. "I got a laptop, though."

"Bring it," Morgan ordered. He laughed at Cohen. "Keeps you on your toes. We're going to move down the river here, and plant some mines. They're not crossing. Speight!"

"Yeah, boss?" Speight handed over the laptop, and Morgan put it in the H3. He tapped a staccato on the roof of the Hummer with the large ring he wore. Whoever had survived that crash knew what he'd done, what the technology had let him do. He couldn't let them get away.

"You and Collins track them. Find them. We know this jungle, they don't."



Jensen thought that Jared would have them walk all night, but they'd only gone a short distance from the crash site when he called a halt and started hauling their gear into a tree.

"What are you doing?"

"Sun will be setting soon, and we won't be able to see where we're going."

"Okay, but what are you doing?"

"Oh. Getting us up off the ground. It's so flat down there that it must be a track animals use to get to the water."

"I can't climb, Jared." Jensen waved his injured arm in Jared's direction.

"I'll haul you up, don't worry about it."

Jensen looked at Jared's muscular upper body, and raised an eyebrow.

"Pulley, dude."

"For the record, I hate that I can't get up there on my own, as well as all this unnecessary stealth." Jensen was used to leading, not being the helpless bystander. Besides, he didn't like heights.

"Well, we'll see if it's unnecessary. Better safe than dead, Jensen."

There was no arguing with that.

Jared threw the space blanket over a branch and pulled the leaves down over it. Jensen couldn't see it from the ground, but Jared wasn't satisfied. He climbed down and gathered leaves from other trees, lashing them together and climbing back up. Jensen listened to the rustling and watched the branches sway, as the dusk dropped abruptly into full dark, with a sliver of silver moon giving a little bit of light. He couldn't hear the branches, Jared above him, or anything. He might have been the only living thing in the jungle until the glow of eyes from the opposite end of the clearing stilled even his breathing. Jared dropped down next to him, and there was the sound of a cough from whatever was fifteen steps away. A light rain started to fall.

"Jaguar," whispered Jared.

"What?" squeaked Jensen.

Jared dropped a loop of rope over Jensen, and pulled his arms through. "Shhh. He's no danger to us." He looked down at Jensen. "I'm going to haul you up. When you reach the top, you'll stop. Find your footing, and tug twice on the rope."

Jared pulled steadily on the rope he was holding, and Jensen rose into the air, until he felt the bump. He set his feet on what felt like a sturdy branch, and promptly sat down straddling it, fought the impulse to wrap his arms around the branch, locking on for dear life, and gave the two tugs. It was just a moment before Jared was on the branch next to him. Jared coiled the rope, slid Jensen out of the loop, taking extra care with his injured wrist, and tried to draw him up. Jensen trembled and shook his head. He hated heights, hated the dark, hated the jungle, hated everything about the situation. Jared slid onto the branch behind him and placed his hands on Jensen's hips.

"You're shaking!"

Jensen was mortified. He would have pulled away, but he didn't want to send himself tumbling to the ground, and so he went rigid instead, drawing on years of boardroom discipline. "Don't like heights."

Jared laughed, husky and deep, without malice, and Jensen felt the chink in his armor widen as Jared slid up against him.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I'm going to turn the flashlight on for just a second to get us settled, but you're going to have to stand up, all right?"

Jensen wasn't at all sure that was a good idea. He was perfectly content to stay right there, warm, flush against Jared, but he slid away, leaving Jensen alone in the dark. He had to pull himself together.

He heard a click, and narrowed his eyes, but Jared had muffled the light with his t-shirt, allowing just enough light for Jensen to see that the branch he was sitting on was wide enough to stand on comfortably. He drew himself up, and looked at Jared, who beckoned him forward.

"I don't want this light on long, so take a look. I rigged a hammock, we should sleep okay."

All Jensen could do was gape. Jared had strung a hammock, a real one complete with a roof and a mosquito net, under a canopy of space blankets that was already shedding the raindrops that were starting to fall harder. To Jensen's eye, it looked huge.

"Where'd this come from?"

"What?" asked Jared. "It's my... oh. Remember I said I was going hiking, in Playa Blanca? I need a double, since I'm too tall for a single. Once we're settled, I'll pull up the sides. I sprayed, it's as bug free as I can make it. Take off your shoes and let's try to get the socks dry. I've got clean ones for tomorrow, but let's do what we can. We can't afford to let our feet stay wet. Jungle rot isn't just in the movies."

Nodding, Jensen leaned over to untie his muddy gym shoes, one-handed. He sighed; the soggy laces were unyielding.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Jensen. Let me get that." Jared dropped the shirt wrapped flashlight onto the hammock.

Before Jensen could do more than open his mouth, Jared was on his knees in front of him with his head bowed, those huge hands unlacing his shoes, stripping the sodden socks from his feet. Jensen's heart pounded, and his chest tightened. That sense of connection was still there; Jared made him want things he'd never let himself think about before, and he could've tried to blame the heat, but Jensen didn't like lying, even to himself.

Jared stripped the shirt over his head, and rubbed Jensen's feet dry with it. He hung the shirt and Jensen's socks alongside his own on a strap across the inside of the topmost space blanket. The shoes went next to Jared's boots on the opposite side. "Bandage, too, Jensen. I know it hurts, and you need the support, but it needs to be as dry as we can keep it, too. The socks might be dry in the morning," he said. "I have a couple more pair in a plastic bag." Jared motioned him to come closer. "Back to me, okay, so we can swing in?"

Jensen swallowed. He hadn't given sleeping arrangements a thought; he'd never actually shared a bed with another person since his mother. The thought of spending the night in a hammock with Jared was daunting. "I - Jared, I've never slept with anyone."

"Huh?"

He cleared his throat, not knowing what he was going to say, when Jared's arm snaked out toward him, and they leaned into the hammock. Jared squeaked when he landed on the flashlight, and Jensen let a quiet laugh escape. Jared shifted, the light went out, and he rested Jensen's injured wrist on his chest.

"I don’t do relationships, Jared," said Jensen, very quietly. "I've been so careful, so good, up 'til now."

Jared waited silently for Jensen to go on.

"A couple of years ago, I was in Thailand. Peter was sick, flu, food poisoning, something. He made me promise not to leave the hotel, not to go anywhere without him. Room service waiter offered to get me a hooker." He turned his head toward Jared's face, then back to his chest. "He sent me a guy." Jensen cleared his throat, glad for the darkness, sure he was blushing brightly. It was good to have someone to confess to, easier to do it in the dark. "I'd never been with a guy before, but it made sense of everything else. I was never all that interested before."

"Oh, Jensen." Jared commiserated, patting Jensen's injured wrist very gently.

"So, I have this thing, this thing I can't do anything about."

"You can." answered Jared, surprise in his voice.

"Jared, I can't. The company, the press - you don't know what they are like."

"I'm not asking you to go steady, just to scoot over."

"I’m serious."

"So am I. Your shivering's going to knock us both out of this damned hammock. Angst about it when we're out of here. I'm sure not going to tell anyone."

"What, what happens in the jungle stays in the jungle?" Jensen asked, trying to wrap his brain around the idea that he didn't have to hide his attraction to Jared.

"Is that how you want it?"

"That's how it has to be. Jared, I'm so far in the closet, I'm standing in the snow by a lamp post."

"That's sad, man."

​​"It's how it has to be. I don't have any options."

"Well, if it's staying in the jungle, then scoot over. I wanted the chance to get to know you better. We might be sick to death of each other by the time we're safely out of here."

Jensen couldn't do more than open his mouth and take a breath, in part because he wasn't sure what he was going to say, when Jared put his hand softly over Jensen's mouth. He startled, eyes wide, and Jared breathed, "Shhhh!" into his ear.

By then, Jensen could hear the sound of a motor. They lay motionless, barely breathing and completely vulnerable in the crook of the tree. The lights of the vehicle bounced into the clearing, stopping directly beneath them. It took an effort of will to remain silent beside Jared, to not call out for rescue from the jungle. He thought of the altered electronics in the Lear and pressed his lips together.

"Anything?" came a voice below them.

"Tracks, but the rain's washed them out. They're all over the clearing. I think it was them, but I can't tell in the dark," answered another. "Huh. Jaguar was here, too."

"Well, shit. Maybe it'll get them first. Morgan's gonna kill us if we can't find them."

"We'll find them. They can't get across the river. He and Cohen mined the fords, and we have lookouts on the bridges. We'll find them. Alive or not."

Jared straightened behind him, but never stopped stroking a soft circle on Jensen's pulse point.

"Well, they're not here. Let's get back to camp. Got the GPS?"

"Yeah, but this ain't exactly a road."

"I don't want to stay out here in the rain. Dry clothes at camp, Collins."

The other man, Collins, Jensen thought, grunted.

The vehicle drove off and Jensen felt Jared relax behind him.

"Still wishing we'd stayed with the plane?" whispered Jared.

"What in the world is actually going on here?"

"I wish I knew," said Jared. "We sure won't figure it out tonight. Let's try to get some sleep, huh?"

He slid over, giving Jensen half the hammock, but Jensen didn't move away. "How'd you know?"

"About you, or about the plane? It was pretty clear at the club --"

Jensen elbowed him.

"Ouch! Okay, hunch."

"I make a living knowing when someone's lying to me, Jared."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? I most certainly do. What are you, an International Man of Mystery?"

"Something like," sighed Jared, and wound his fingers between the ones on Jensen's good hand. "I guess we should talk about this."

"What’s there to talk about?" asked Jensen, hating himself for putting this wedge between them. "Different lives, different worlds."

"You can't tell me you didn't feel it, didn't connect with me at the club. Hell, you ran with your tail between your legs, left me with my cock in my hand." He snorted. "Well, that part was later."

Jensen resolutely put the picture of Jared holding his dick out of his head and cleared his throat. "I have shareholders."

Jared gave a regretful sigh. "Well then, for sure we know what you don't have between your legs."

Jensen shifted, affronted. "Are you calling me dickless? I have responsibilities, the livelihood of hundreds of people, and you're a happy-go-lucky flyboy, worried about blue balls."

"I'm - what?"

"You're a pilot. You go here, go there, if you don't like it, you go somewhere else."

Very quietly, Jared said, "I have responsibilities."

"Looks like they don't keep you from doing whatever you want."

Jared groaned and sealed his lips over Jensen's. It felt just as good to Jensen as it had the first time, the second time, like electricity coursing through his nervous system. Jared broke the kiss before Jensen was ready, leaving him gasping.

"That's not all I want from you, Jensen. So help me." He stretched the entire length of the hammock, tipping Jensen in even closer, and pulled on the rope that brought the sides up. "You don't know me at all. Go to sleep now, okay? We can talk about this in the morning."

Jensen grunted. The rain falling on their shelter and the rhythmic sound of Jared's breathing were the last things he heard before exhaustion claimed him.



Jensen was having a great dream. His injured wrist throbbed, his other arm was trapped against something warm, but he had manifested a third hand, one that knew just how to bring him release. He encouraged his dream lover, "Yeah, Jared, yeah, so good..." He was close, so close, but he didn't have a third hand, and he opened his eyes. Tan, strong, with long fingers, the third hand belonged to Jared, whispering encouragement in his ear. "Come on Jensen, come for me, so beautiful, want you to, want you--"

Jensen's hips moved on their own, stuttering in the warm circle of Jared's hand, and he threw his head back with a silent cry.

"What - what was that all about?" he asked, when he understood how to use words again.

"You asked me, dude. Put my hand down your pants - oh shit, you were dreaming!?"

Jensen groaned. He had been dreaming of Jared. Jared had just - and it was something Jensen wanted to happen.

"We're actually in bed," said Jared, shyly, "and I had to make up for not having coffee."

"You felt like it would be okay to jerk me off?" Jensen breathed deeply through his nose, trying to still the roil of emotion. If he was honest with himself, he wanted it to happen again and again. He tipped his head to look at Jared's face, and while he might have schooled his features to a neutral expression, there was no disguising the mischief in Jared's eyes.

"You complained about my bedside manner yesterday. You, um... sundial... it looked like it was the thing to do."

"I - we -" stammered Jensen.

Jared brushed his temple with soft lips. "We agreed, didn't we? What happens in the jungle stays in the jungle?"

Jensen nodded. "I can't... there's no future in this. If we get out of here."

"We'll get out, Jensen, make it home. If this is all there is for us, then I don't want to waste it. I agree. When we get out, I'll walk away."

Jensen didn't know if he was even going to make it out of the tree, but Jared sounded sure. "Okay. What happens in the jungle stays in the jungle. I can -" he gestured toward Jared.

Jared laughed, that deep, intimate chuckle that made Jensen's toes curl. "I'm good. Now, my eyes are yellow, and I have to get out of this hammock. I've never known anyone that could get one person out of a two-seater, not without cooperation." His eyes twinkled. "Wouldn't want to dump you out from way up here."

Jensen hung on, and Jared rolled out. He stood with his back to Jensen, who could hear the stream flowing down the leaves below them. The water purification tablets made much more sense to him now. With an economy of movement that was pure grace, Jared tugged a long sleeved t-shirt from his pack and pulled it on, then he leaned into the hammock to give Jensen a hand out. While Jensen relieved himself, Jared tugged the socks and the elastic bandage out from under the strap of the space blanket. Jensen's thin silk socks were dry, and Jared handed them over, grimacing at his still-damp athletic socks. He shook his head, wrapping them inside the space blanket as he pulled it down. Water from its outer surface sprayed Jensen who glared accusingly at Jared.

"Only shower you're gonna get today, dude. Sorry."

"What are you doing?"

"Hoping the residual heat will dry them the rest of the way. Good thing I packed extras."

Jensen ran his tongue over his teeth. "Don't suppose you packed a spare toothbrush?"

"As a matter of fact..." said Jared, and sat on the edge of the hammock to dig in his pack, coming up with a cellophane package. He held it out to Jensen.

"It's pink."

"It was on clearance. If it bothers you, you can use mine." He waved a well-used white one in Jensen's direction. "The pink one was a replacement for this one."

Jensen sat down next to him, pushed the handle of the brush through the bottom of the cellophane, muttering under his breath at the pain in his wrist. Jared put his hand out for the wrapper. "Don't want to leave anything behind." He shoved the wrapper into his pocket.

Jensen sat in silence, brushing, then looked over at Jared. "I'm good with this thing."

"Thing?"

Jensen sighed. "You haven't steered us wrong yet, I trust your judgment, and you might be a serial killer, but--" He shuddered and let out his breath. "I find you attractive. I agree. What happens in the jungle stays in the jungle." He didn't know what kind of a reaction he was going to get, but Jared grinned at him.

"Good. Done with the toothbrush? We need to wrap that wrist again and get moving."

Jensen didn't know what he had expected, but that wasn't it. Jared knelt, and pulled on Jensen's socks and shoes, tying them thoughtfully, before turning to his own.

Between them, they unstrung the hammock, and Jared folded it into a small package. He shook out the space blankets, and they folded down to next to nothing as well. Jensen was amazed at how small the entire unit was. It didn't weigh as much as a bag of sugar, and Jared stuffed it all into a bag that strapped to the bottom of the backpack.

Jensen had questions, so many questions, but no good place to start asking them. All he could do was stay out of the way right now. Jared dropped the loop of rope over his shoulders again.

"I know it's not a fancy elevator." He grinned. "I promise not to drop you." He let Jensen down, making sure he was solid on his feet before leaping from branch to branch on his way down. He dropped the last few feet himself, unwrapped the rope and coiled it neatly, hanging it on the backpack with a carabiner. Jensen stared into space, lost in thought, and Jared put a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"I dunno, I just... I missed all my meetings yesterday, who knows... There's a problem with..."

"Yeaaaahh," drawled Jared. "There's nothing you can actually do about that."

"I know, but I had a district attorney and two CEOs and--" he threw his hands into the air, "a press conference tomorrow, which is today, and I’m not going to make any of them."

"Nope."

"My schedule has been cleared. Wiped off. Wiped out. Erased."

"So you've got an unexpected Saturday. Wait, when was the last time you had a day off? Just, you know, a fun day."

Jensen stared at the trees. “This does not qualify as a fun day to any sane person. Also? Not coming to mind.”

“Last vacation?”

“Trip to Italy. Two museums, one vendor plant tour, a charity meet and greet, three dinners, had an agenda for every day.”

“Seriously?”

“Got into the habit early.” He waved his Blackberry. “I don’t even know what time it is. I should be freaking out about that.”

“You are. Where are you keeping that thing?”

“Belt clip. I should freak out about finding something to eat, huh?"

"Dude, jungle. There is food all around us. Hold that thought."

Jared dropped the backpack and darted through the trees, grabbing a low branch and swinging up to the nearest cluster of fruit. Before Jensen could call out to him, he was back with a handful of plantains.

"Going hungry is the least of our worries. These are plantains, not dessert bananas, but they're okay to eat." He stepped around Jensen to pick up the backpack.

Jensen looked down at the fruit. "One hand, Jared."

Jared reached around him with both hands to help peel it.

"Get off me, you giant ape."

Jared tilted his head. "If I was an ape man..."

"Just... forget I said anything." Jensen was sure he would carry the picture of Jared moving lithely from branch to branch for a very long time.

Jared pushed Jensen up against the nearest tree, laughing. "Take it back, or I will yell just like Tarzan.

"That would merely prove my point." Jensen paused, thought for a moment. "Which Tarzan? Lambert? Van Dien? Weissmuller?"

"I favor Lex Barker. Looks a bit like you." Jared flicked Jensen's nose, and he let out a breath, thinking Jared might kiss him. "See? Restraint. I haven't--" Jared's look softened. "Well, I haven't." He laughed. "Eat your banana." He backed up, sat and slapped the fallen log next to him companionably.

Jensen sat, and wrinkled up his nose at the taste.

“What?”

“So much better when they’re fried.”

Jared nodded, mouth full of food, and studied what he could see of the sky. ​

"So, what now?" asked Jensen, as they finished, and got to their feet.

"Now, we try to get to San Ramon."

"Which is where?"

"South, other side of the river."

Jensen gaped at him. "Past the mines and lookouts?"

"Yeah. Haven't quite worked that out. We start south, though, so, shall we?"

Jensen sighed.

"Come on, it'll be fun. You can tell me what makes Jensen tick, I'll flirt, you'll tell me to quit, I won't. We already know you know Tarzan films, what about the books? You read, we covered that."

"I prefer the Martian series," offered Jensen.

"Figures, Princess."

"Hey!"

"Watch your step, Dejah Thoris."



On to Part Three

junglebook

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