Memoirs of a Texan Abroad (2/14)

[texankate]

Title:  How Jensen Ackles Hated Mr. Right, Shagged Mr. Wrong, and Finally Got a Clue
Author:  texankate 
Pairings/Characters:  J-squared, Jensen/ Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Jared/Sandy, Chris/Steve, Usual Suspects  OFCs, OMCs.  S1 'The Tudors', S1 'Primeval'.
Rating:  Up to NC17 in places

Disclaimer: If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream,. In other words: complete and utter fiction. I own nothing but my twisted and sordid little brain. I even had to borrow my disclaimer.

Summary:  When Jensen left everything behind for his big shot overseas assignment, he only wanted a life of adventure.  Will he choose passion with a sexy foreigner?  Or will he realize that true love was in his back yard the whole time?

Chapter 2
Natalie was not what Jensen expected at all. She was a few years younger than him, and full of energy. She literally bounced into the office, saying hello to everyone she met. Her eyes lit up when she saw Jensen, and she bounded across the conference area in the middle of their workspaces.

"You must be Jensen!" she said. "I'm Natalie."

"It's nice to meet you, Natalie." Lord, she made him tired just looking at her.

"I just came by to drop off keys," she said, dangling a little key ring in front of her. "You look absolutely knackered. Why don't you come on home? I don't have room for your luggage in my car, but a cab shouldn't be too expensive. What do you say, James? Can he go home yet?"

"I reckon so. Can't have him pass out on his first day in the office. Just make sure he gets to bed early. We have a lot to do tomorrow," he said.

"Come on," Natalie said, pulling Jensen to his feet. He reached over and locked his terminal, and allowed her to drag him downstairs. A cab pulled up outside a few minutes later, and Natalie helped him load in all of his luggage. She jogged off to her car, and the cab roared away from the curb. Jensen tried to keep his eyes open, but he drifted off, too sleepy to look out at his new home.

Jensen woke up when the cab jolted to a stop. They were parked in front of a lovely three story house, with potted rose bushes on the front step. Natalie stood on the sidewalk, with a grin on her face.

"Come on in. I'll help you take your things downstairs, and then we can come up for that cup of tea," she said. The driver unloaded all of his suitcases, and Natalie whistled in awe.

"I can't believe you got all of that on the plane," she grinned. "Did you leave anything in Houston?"

"Not much," Jensen said. "I wasn't sure of the weather, so I packed for all possibilities."

"I guess you can never be too prepared," she said. Jensen paid the cabdriver and grabbed the largest suitcase. He followed Natalie down the stairs to the basement apartment. She unlocked the front door and hauled in the first bag. He followed her in and they set the bags down in the front room, which looked like the den. One more trip outside, and his bags were safe and out of the elements.

"So, let's have the grand tour," Natalie said. "Here's the sitting room. You'll notice that you have a television and DVD player. I have loads of DVDs upstairs, if you need to borrow one." The room was painted red, with a cream colored sofa and curtains. Fuzzy throws had been tossed over the sofa and chairs, and there was a set of shelves covered in plants and books in the corner. They stepped back into the hall and walked further down the hallway.

"Next is the kitchen and dining area. There's the icebox, the cook top, and the oven. Microwave in the corner, along with the toaster and the electric kettle." The kitchen was modern and shiny, with blue walls and frosted glass doors on the cabinets. The refrigerator wasn't much bigger than the one he'd had in college, but he supposed he would be able to make do.

"We'll come back to the bathroom." They stepped through the kitchen into another hallway. The bathroom door was on the left. Jensen poked his head in and saw a claw-footed tub with a shower curtain. Visions of a hot bubble bath danced in his exhausted brain.

"Now the bedroom," she finished, leading him through the door at the end of the hall. It wasn't a large room, but it was cozy. The back wall had a line of windows across the top that looked up into the back garden. The bed sat underneath, with a nightstand on one side. The wall to his right had shallow shelves on half of it, and the rest of the wall was a curtain covered area for clothes hanging. There was a bureau across from the bed, and a chair nestled in the corner. The walls were a deep mossy green, and there was a plain white coverlet on the bed.

He felt like collapsing right then and there. But Natalie grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the front of the apartment. She stopped outside of the bathroom and ushered him inside. The room was long and narrow, and there was a door at the end. The walls were a bright turquoise, with purple accents. Natalie walked toward the door in the back before turning around.

"This is really a multi-purpose room," she explained. "Down at your end are the bathroom fixtures. Down here is the laundry part." She pointed to a counter with a washing machine tucked away underneath. "There's not a dryer, which you're probably used to, but there is a retractable clothes line, and a drying rack. The ironing board and iron are stored down here, and that should be about it," she finished.

"The door?" Jensen asked, pointing behind her.

"Yes, sorry. That goes up to the back garden. You are welcome to use it whenever you like. There are pots of herbs and such, so if you need some fresh basil, feel free to pop up and grab a handful. I'll help you get your bearings in the neighborhood a little later. Right now, I think you could use a cup of tea."

"Yes, please," Jensen said. He followed Natalie through the back door and up into the garden. She opened her back door, and ushered him into what was probably a bright, sunny kitchen on days that the clouds stayed away. She filled her kettle and plugged it in.

"While that's brewing, I'll show you around up here," she offered. Unlike the apartment, the color scheme upstairs was muted and serene. "It's really my parents' house," she said. "The spend most of their time in France since my father retired, but they didn't want to sell the old place. So I basically live here for free, and make a little money by renting out the basement."

"It's absolutely beautiful," Jensen said.

"I prefer brighter colors, as you might have noticed. But Mum doesn't like them, so I keep it nice and neutral up here," she said. The kettle started to whistle, and they went back to the kitchen. Natalie poured two mugs of tea, and they went into her sitting room.

A fluffy black cat perched on the arm of a chair and watched him with marked boredom. Jensen sat down on one end of the sofa, and sank back into the cushions.

"That's Horatio. He's fairly calm. Just don't feed him tuna. It makes him cranky," she said. Horatio jumped down and stalked towards Jensen. The cat stared up at Jensen for several moments before leaping up into his lap. He shifted around until he was comfortable, and plopped down. When Jensen didn't immediately start stroking his fur, Horatio nudged his hand with his head.

"That's odd. He usually doesn't like strangers," Natalie said.

"Cats usually like me. I think they can tell who isn't a cat person, and they zero in on them. It used to drive my dad's dog crazy when I'd come home smelling like my best friend's cat," Jensen said, stroking his back.

"Well, he's certainly taken to you. I knew I was going to like you," she chuckled. She turned on the television and flipped through the channels. There were far fewer of them than Jensen was used to.

"I don't have cable," she explained. "Normally, there are five channels that you can pick up, but since we're so close to the coast, we don't really get Channel 5."

"I'm actually happy just to have television," Jensen said. "From what Alasdair said, it's a little more complicated over here. You have to have a license?"

"Yes. The money from the licenses helps fund the BBC. They don't have adverts, so they have to pay for programs somehow," she said.

"So it's more like state sponsored cable," he said. "I guess that's pretty cool. We get a lot of BBC programs in the States. Usually, they're on our public television. They don't have commercials either. Just really annoying pledge drives."

They chatted for a while longer, until Jensen was barely able to keep his eyes open. Natalie took his mug, and handed him the keys to the apartment. He stumbled down the back stairs and into the bathroom. All he wanted to do was go to bed.

Unfortunately, he still had to unpack, at least enough to find pajamas and something to wear the next day. He dragged the largest suitcase back to the bedroom, and dug around until he found his flannel pajamas with the polar bears on them. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and shrugged out of his travel worn outfit. Once he was bundled up with the polar bears, he climbed into bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Jensen slept late the next morning. He crawled out of bed at around 9 am, and stumbled to the bathroom. It took him a minute to figure out how to use the high-tech, energy efficient shower, especially since he was doing it uncaffeinated, but soon he was standing under a stream of hot water. He couldn't remember enjoying a shower more. Half an hour later, he knocked on Natalie's back door. She had a fresh pot of tea and toast waiting for him.

"Good morning, lazybones," she said. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a rock," Jensen said. "I'm feeling much more human this morning."

"That's lovely," she said. She handed him a plate and nudged him toward the kitchen table. "As soon as you're ready, I'll walk you to the station. It'll take you right back into the airport, and it's a short walk from there. Luckily, the sun seems to be out this morning."

Jensen finished his toast and tea quickly. They stepped out into the street, and today he was much more interested in his surroundings. The street itself was lined by houses with a similar type of architecture. They took a right and headed down the road, with Natalie pointing out her friends and neighbors along the way.

"Mr. and Mrs. McPherson live over there," she said, pointing at a house across from us. "I used to be head over heels for their son, Jack. He married a cheap little tart from Essex last summer. Such a shame, really." She went on, passing along little tidbits of gossip until they reached the intersection. They took a left, and then another right until they were walking along a major road. Within five minutes, they were standing in front of the station.

"Get a round trip ticket, it's cheaper," Natalie advised. "Do you think you can make your way back home tonight?"

"I think so. It'll be harder in the dark, but I have a pretty good sense of direction."

"All right. Well, I fly out this afternoon, so I won't be home tonight. If you go down the opposite direction from the house, there's a good chip shop if you need something for supper. Otherwise, I'll see you this weekend." And she was off with a jaunty wave of her hand.

The station was relatively empty, as most folks had already left for work. The man behind the window was at least as old as dirt, maybe a little older. His skin and his voice were paper thin, and Jensen had to yell quite loudly in order for him to hear his request. He made it out onto the platform just in time, and he hopped on the train.

There were plenty of empty seats; Jensen found one in a corner and watched the other people on the train. There were a couple of men in suits, but mostly they were young mothers, probably off for a day running errands. There was one stop between Crawley and Gatwick, and the men in suits stepped out to catch a connecting train. He was the only one who stepped off at Gatwick, and he had to look around before he found the escalators that led up into the terminal.

There were signs pointing to their building, but they seemed to lead into the middle of nowhere. Jensen just kept trudging on, trusting the blue squares to lead him true. Suddenly, the path curved and he was standing in front of the office. It might seem a little silly, but he felt a thrill of accomplishment. He could do this. He was going to be okay.

"You made it!" James exclaimed as Jensen walked into their area. "Did you get lost, or were you just having a lie in?"

"I'm still recovering from jet lag," Jensen said, sitting down at Douglas's desk. "So, where do I sit when Douglas gets back?"

"Well, by that time, I'll be off on holiday, so you can sit here. And when I get back, well, I suppose we'll find someplace for you."

"I can be like a gypsy. Cool," Jensen said. But where would he put his stuff in the meantime? His Texas flag was folded away in his backpack, next to his coffee mug and his mouse pad. He guessed they'd have to wait until he had a real home.

Geoff from IT came down right before lunch, with his new ID and password. He helped Jensen set up his email and preferences, so he could jump right into work as soon as he got back to his desk.

Jensen grabbed a salad from the café and found a quiet table in the corner. He had bought a brand new journal for the trip, and he was anxious to get his thoughts down before he got too busy and forgot. He never got a chance, though; as soon as he sat down, several people sat down next to him and introduced themselves.

"Hullo. I'm Andrew," said a young man in a sweater and jeans. "You're Jensen, right? You're working for Douglas and James."

"Yes. Hello Andrew. It's a pleasure to meet you," Jensen said, a little flustered.

"Cool accent. Are you really from Texas?" asked one of Andrew's friends, a tiny blonde with short hair. "Oh, I'm Hannah, by the way."

"Hi Hannah. Yes, I'm from Texas."

"I'm Ben," said the third person. He was older, probably in his forties. He had a dark hair and black framed glasses. "We met yesterday, but I imagine you don't quite remember. You looked a bit dazed."

"I was a little exhausted," Jensen agreed. "I barely remembered James' name, and I spent the whole day with him. I promise I'll remember from now on."

Jensen barely had a chance to eat. They were all full of questions about Texas and the Houston office. They were a little disappointed to learn that they didn't have a bar at the office, and that there was virtually no public transportation. And when he told them how little vacation Americans got, they were horrified.

"How do you survive on three weeks a year?" Hannah asked.

"Considering that I didn't have vacation my first year with the company, and that we just recently moved up to three weeks from two weeks, I've learned how to get by," Jensen said. "I understand Douglas's been gone for a month? That would just be bizarre in the US. It must be that Puritan work ethic that keeps us at our desks seventy hours a week, fifty weeks a year. There are some things I think y'all have gotten right over here."

"Some things?" Ben asked. "What are we missing?"

"Baseball. Basketball. Real football," Jensen said, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

"Real football? You're mad. Real men don't need all that 'safety' equipment you Yanks use," Andrew snorted. The conversation devolved into the merits of American football versus soccer versus rugby. And although he wasn't emotionally invested in the argument, at least he got to eat while Andrew rhapsodized over Manchester United.

By the time lunch was over, Andrew and Hannah had wrung a promise out of him to go out for drinks that evening. He was still exhausted, but they insisted that he come out and meet the rest of the younger people in the office.

The afternoon flew by. James was leaving for his vacation on Monday, so he had a day and a half to catch Jensen up on the project. By the time four o'clock rolled around, his head was swirling with information.  Andrew showed up a few minutes later, with his coat in hand.

"All right there, Jensen?" he said, sitting down on the corner of the desk.

"Just give me a couple of minutes to log off," Jensen said.

"I hear you're taking our American friend out for drinks," James said, switching off his machine. "Take it easy on him. He won't be used to drinking real beer. Make sure he gets home safe."

"Thanks, Dad," Jensen said, with fake irritation in his voice. It was actually kind of nice having someone looking out for him. Jensen still missed Bob, but James was turning out to be a nice substitute.

They took the train back to Crawley. There were several bars and pubs along the high street, and they stopped at the Rat and Parrot to start off.  Andrew asked Jensen what he normally drank, and visibly flinched when the reply was Shiner Bock.

"Well, you're going to have to learn how to drink real beer," he said. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm not sure, what are you plotting?" Jensen asked.

"Have a seat. I'll be right back with your first lesson"

Halfway through the evening, they were joined by more people from the office.  Andrew made the introductions, and they toasted them with more beer. The guys decided to move on to a pub showing football, so they pulled up stakes and walked back toward the station. Jensen looked left to check for traffic and stepped off the curb. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled Jensen back as a sports car screamed by, coming from his right.

"You're going to have to get used to looking the other way first," a deep voice said from somewhere near his right ear. A nice voice, deep and rich, with a bit of a lilt. Jensen turned around to look at his savior.

"Hello, Jensen," said a lithe, dark haired man.

"Hi," Jensen whispered. "Thanks, you know, for the life saving and all."

"My pleasure."

"Have we met?" Jensen asked. "I think I would remember if we'd met."

"I'm Johnny," he said. His hand still rested on Jensen's shoulder, warm and strong. "I saw you in the canteen this afternoon, but no, we haven't been introduced."

"Oh. I'm Jensen."

He chuckled. "Yes you are. You're also a little drunk."

"Maybe. I'm not used to English beer," Jensen confessed in a loud whisper. "Andrew is teaching me all about it."

"I think I'll have to have a word with Andrew," Johnny said. He took Jensen's arm and helped him cross the street. Outside of the pub, he did just that.

"I think he's had enough," he said. "You lot go ahead and watch the game. I'll make sure he gets home."

"Ta, Johnny," Andrew said. "James is going to kill me. I promised him that I wouldn't let our new American get too far gone."

"I think it's more jet lag than anything," Johnny said. Jensen hated when people talked about him in the third person. It was endlessly patronizing, and Jensen was starting to get annoyed.

"Hello? I'm right here. Jensen can hear everything you're saying," Jensen slurred. Johnny grabbed his hand and pulled him close to him.

"Let's get you home, gorgeous," he said. He led Jensen to his car, and buckled him into the passenger seat.

"I'm staying with Natalie," Jensen said. "Do you know Natalie?"

"I know Natalie. And I know where Natalie lives. You just sit tight, and I'll have you home in a few minutes," Johnny said, patting his hand.

He talked to Jensen throughout the entire drive. Jensen didn't say much, just stared at Johnny's face. Straight nose, not too big. High cheekbones. Full lips. Light blue eyes. Sweet Jesus, that smile. He was lightly tanned, and there were the beginnings of laugh lines around his eyes. He had the easy grace of an athlete, with fluid movements and an obvious self-confidence. Jensen didn't really hear a word he said, just listened to his voice. Something was different about his voice.

"You're not English," Jensen said, interrupting him.

"No, I'm not. How did you guess?" he asked.

"Your voice. The accent, I mean. Irish?"

"Very good. You Americans usually can't tell the difference unless someone goes on about shamrocks and Guinness," he said.

"Blarney stone," Jensen nodded sagely.

"Right. Well then, here we are," he said, pulling up to the curb. Jensen tried to work the clasp on the seatbelt, but his hands wouldn't work correctly. Johnny reached over and unsnapped the belt before climbing out of the car. He opened Jensen's door and helped him step out onto the sidewalk.

Jensen dug into his bag for his keys, swaying slightly. Johnny took his arm and led him down the steps to his door. Jensen fumbled for a few moments, but finally slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Jensen paused just inside the doorway, and turned back to Johnny.

"Do you want to come in?" Jensen asked. God, did he actually say something that desperate? He could still feel the heat on his arm where Johnny had touched him. It might have been a cliché, but it was a cold night, and he needed warmth.

"Not this time, darlin'," Johnny said. "I'm going to be swamped at the office next week, but maybe we can get together the week after."

"That'd be nice," Jensen said, in what he thought was a sultry purr. Johnny grinned, and kissed his forehead before running back up the steps. Jensen closed the front door and locked the deadbolt. He dropped his backpack and keys on the floor, and stumbled back to the bedroom, where he fell onto the bed and drifted off to sleep, still in his clothes and shoes.

His first weekend was spent sleeping and exploring the town. He found several small shops near his flat, but still hadn't managed to find a full-fledged grocery store. He picked up bread and milk, and a few other vitals, but relied on takeout the rest of the weekend. By the time Monday rolled around, he felt completely rested and ready for work.

With James and Douglas on vacation, Jensen was the only person working on their project-in charge by default. Alasdair called several times, to check on him as much as the work. He laughed at Jensen's introduction to English beer, and warned him to stay away from drinks that needed a spoon.

"I miss Shiner Bock," Jensen moaned. "This stuff is too thick. And warm. Yech."

"I'd stick to lagers if I were you," Alasdair said. "Or maybe gin and tonics."

"I just need to find a decent margarita," Jensen said.

"I'll bring margarita mix when I come over in June. Deal?" Alasdair said, teasing evident in his voice.

"If you could bring some homemade tortillas, too, that would be outstanding," Jensen said.

"I'll see what I can do."

Jensen waited for Johnny to stop by, but there was no sign of him. He had to admit he was a little disappointed. Okay, a lot disappointed. He could still feel Johnny's hand on his arm, and hear the low rumble of his voice. Jensen felt a little like a stalker when he looked him up in the online corporate directory, but he convinced himself that he just wanted to drop him an email to thank him for his help.

Andrew did drop by on Tuesday, with a heartfelt apology, a cup of tea, and a promise to look after him better the next time. Jensen let him stew for a few minutes before he accepted.

"And why should I accept this?" Jensen asked, after he breathed in the welcome smell of caffeine. "My liver nearly went on strike."

"Because it was all done in good faith?" Andrew said, sitting down on the corner of the desk. "And because James will gut me if he finds out I didn't look after you."

"Well, I guess we can't have that," Jensen said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Apology and caffeine accepted."

"I also wanted to see if you were going to Everett's outing this evening?" he asked. Their manager was taking the department out for drinks after work.

"I don't know. I really do need to run by the mall and pick up a few things. I was here late last night on a conference call with Houston," he explained.

"Well, you won't really be able to do that now, will you?" Andrew said.

"What do you mean?" Jensen asked.

"What time do you leave?"

"Well, I guess I should leave around five or so," Jensen said.

"Okay, you leave here at five. Ten minutes to get to the train, a ten minute wait, and then a twenty minute train ride puts you stepping onto the platform at 5:40, at the earliest. That's assuming that the train is on time. Shops close at six on the dot," Andrew said, shrugging.

"Six? What in the heck are you talking about?" Jensen squawked.

"The shops close at six. We don't live that glamorous 24-hour lifestyle that you Yanks do," he said, with a mocking smile. "Your best bet would be to wait until Thursday. They stay open until eight."

"That's bizarre," Jensen said, shaking his head.

"That may be, but it's still true," Andrew said. "So, are you coming out with us? I think Johnny might be there." Jensen could feel a deep blush staining his cheeks.

"I haven't seen Johnny since Friday night," Jensen said.

"Which is odd, since he's brought your name up in conversation several times," Andrew said blandly, while looking close to see his reaction.

"Really?" Jensen asked, trying vainly for nonchalance.

"Mmm hmm. I think you made quite an impression."

"Good or bad? I'm a little blurry on parts of that evening," Jensen admitted.

"Good, from what I can tell. He sent me over her to make sure you'd be there tonight," he said.

"He sent you? What are we? In junior high? Am I supposed to send back a note or something?" Jensen asked.

"No, just tell me," Andrew said.  "I was supposed to be slick about this, but, well, not so much, eh?"

"Well, you can tell Johnny that I probably won't be there. I really should get caught up on things, with Douglas and James both gone," Jensen said.

"Oh, come on. You can let it slide a little. Douglas will be back next Thursday, right? You can catch up with it when you have an extra set of hands around, all right?" he said. Jensen groaned. At his encouraging look, Jensen nodded.

"Okay," Jensen said. "As long as I can bum a ride from you."

"Better yet, I'll make sure Johnny gives you a ride," Andrew grinned. "And you can take that as you will."

Jensen walked downstairs with Andrew around five o'clock. The parking lot was beginning to empty, and they saw most of the department climbing into their vehicles. Hannah's car sat next to Johnny's, and they were standing and chatting when Jensen and Andrew strolled up.

"All right there, Jensen?" Hannah said.

"Long day," Jensen said. "I could use a drink. Just not whatever it was that we were drinking on Friday."

"Coward," Johnny said. "You're looking much better. How are you adjusting to life over here?"

"It's not too bad. I'm still getting used to things like stores closing at six o'clock, but other than that, I think I'm adjusting pretty well," Jensen said. Johnny seemed to be standing awfully close. Not that Jensen minded.

"Andrew, do you want to ride with me?" Hannah asked.

"All right. Jensen, do you mind getting a lift from Johnny?" he asked, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"It's okay with me. As long as he doesn't mind," Jensen said.

"Not at all," Johnny said. He opened the car door and closed it again once Jensen was inside. They pulled out onto the motorway and headed toward the pub.

"So where is this shindig?" Jensen asked.

"It's at a place in Horley," Johnny said. "When we don't go down to the pub near work, we usually head here. They have an amazing cook."

Good, Jensen thought. Maybe having food on my stomach will keep me from making a fool of myself. Again.

They ended up sitting next to Everett at a table in the corner. The lighting was dim, as it had been in every pub Jensen had seen so far. Johnny went to the bar and brought back two pint glasses.

"What's that?" Jensen asked, looking suspiciously at the dark amber liquid.

"Cider. I think we'd better start at the beginning with you," he said, setting the glass down in front of the Texan. "Plus, it's served cold. You Yanks like it served that way, right?" He sat down on Jensen's right.

"Yes, please," Jensen said. Jensen took a small sip. It was fantastic. Much better than the thick, black beer he'd had on Friday. Jensen had a much better feeling about the evening.

"All right then, shove over, you lot. I need to talk to my newest employee," Everett said. He switched places with the man on his left and sat down. "So, Jensen, how do you find our little office?"

"Everything's fine," Jensen said. They chatted about the project, and how Jensen was coping without James and Douglas. Jensen wondered if this was the goal all along: to get them all liquored up and ask about their projects. Jensen was sure Everett would get a much more honest appraisal of deadlines and resources than the rosy pictures they put out in client bids and formal status reports. As Jensen looked around, though, no one else looked particularly tipsy. Okay, maybe Jensen was imagining things. Or maybe Jensen was the only one supposed to get drunk.

"Did you have a chance to do any exploring this last weekend?" he asked.

"Not really. I spent most of the weekend getting settled in," Jensen said. "I feel kind of guilty about it, to tell you the truth. I want to spend as much of my free time as possible being a tourist. But I'll get started this weekend. I'm planning a trip into London on Saturday to check things out."

"Well if you need any advice, just let us know. I'm sure everyone would be more than happy to tell you which places to avoid," he offered.

"You can start off by avoiding all of those tourist places," Johnny said. "They're nothing but rip-offs. If you want to really see the country, I'll take you camping. It'll be great." Jensen was flattered by the offer, if a little put out by the tone.

"But I really want to see some of the touristy places. You can't say you've traveled until you have a horribly cheesy magnet on your refrigerator with a cartoon Stonehenge on it," Jensen said, with a chuckle. Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Listen," Jensen said. "This is my first real opportunity to see a little bit of the world. I'm going to have fun doing it, even if it is a little kitschy."

"Fair enough," Johnny said.

They had another round, but while the others downed their pints with enthusiasm, Jensen nursed his second drink. He wasn't really used to going out drinking every night anymore, and he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of the big boss. Jensen finished his drink just as Johnny drained his third pint and went back for a fourth.

He sat back and listened to the chatter wash over him, really hearing only about a tenth of it. The English talked much faster than Jensen was used to. Southerners tended to speak slowly, not, as many tend to believe, due to a lack of intelligence. But when you live along the Gulf Coast, it's too hot to get worked up about much besides religion and football. Jensen guessed in the colder climes of England, talking fast helped you stay warm, kind of like the beer.

Johnny noticed that Jensen wasn't talking. He leaned over and draped his arm around his shoulders. His mouth moved to Jensen's ear, not to do anything obscene, unfortunately.

"You want to get out of here?" he asked. Jensen nodded, wondering what he had in mind. They said goodbye to everyone and slipped out the side door. Johnny pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward Crawley. Jensen was just learning his way around, but he noticed when he took a detour.

"Where are we going?" Jensen asked. His stomach started to flutter.

"It's a surprise," Johnny said, in a husky voice. Jensen's stomach went from fluttering to back flips. It settled with a thud when he pulled into the Tesco parking lot. "You had some shopping to do, right?"

"Yes," Jensen said. "I thought everything closed at six?"

"The local shops, yes. The big stores are more convenient. But not if you don't have a car," he said, switching off the engine. They stepped out of the car and walked up to the big automatic doors.

The inside reminded him of the supermarkets back home. It wasn't until you started looking closer that you saw the differences. Mostly, it was the familiar brands that were missing, but where Jensen was used to an entire aisle dedicated to Mexican food, Tesco had a couple of shelves with suspicious looking salsa and packaged tortillas. Johnny and Jensen both steered their carts up and down the aisles.

"Ooh, peanut butter," Jensen said, stopping suddenly. "What's with this 'all-natural' crap? Where's the JIF?"

"This is better for you than that over-processed junk you get in the States," Johnny said. He plucked a jar from the shelves and tossed it into his cart.

"But I like my creamy JIF," Jensen pouted.

"You have to be open to new things if you really want an adventure," Johnny said. "Baby steps, all right?"

By the time they got to the check-out, Jensen's basket was full of baby steps. He'd been surprised and delighted to discover that you could buy liquor at Tesco; a bottle of tequila sat amongst the other purchases. Jensen promised Johnny that he'd make margaritas for him one evening, soon.

They loaded the groceries into cardboard boxes, and took them out to the car. Luckily, Johnny's car had room for more than a loaf of bread in the back, so they only had to do a little finagling to fit everything inside. They drove back to Jensen's flat, and Johnny helped him carry his boxes inside. Jensen then asked Johnny to put the kettle on while he put things away.

They took their mugs of tea into the sitting room and chatted about all of the get-to-know-you things that you usually cover on a first date. Jensen discovered that Johnny had three sisters: Amy, Eve, and Grace. His parents owned a horse farm in Ireland, and he'd learned to ride almost as soon as he'd been able to walk. He didn't see them as much as he'd like, but they did talk on the phone regularly.

Jensen told him about his parents and his two siblings. He talked about school and his friends back in Houston. His life sounded dull compared to Johnny's, but the focus and intensity in the other man's eyes made Jensen feel like the most intriguing person in the world.

Jensen ended up telling him about the weird scar by his ear-the result of a fishing accident when he was four years old, and the tragically funny party his freshman year when his braces got locked with Lacey Monroe's. They'd ended up calling their orthodontist, a family friend, and he'd felt obliged to tell both sets of parents. Donna and Alan hadn't let him go to parties for months afterward, and to that day were convinced that the trauma had a little bit to do with his being gay.

They were surprised when the clock struck eleven. There was a brief moment where Jensen wanted to ask him to stay, but his cautious nature got the better of him. Johnny didn't seem too disappointed, but he did linger for as long as possible. They stood at the front door, not saying much, and not really wanting the evening to be over. He finally leaned in and pulled Jensen close.

Johnny smelled incredible, a deep, musky scent with a surprising hint of sunshine. He rubbed a rough thumb across Jensen's chin and tipped up his face. Their lips met, and Jensen reached up to twine his arms around Johnny's neck. The first thrill, the newness made his knees weak. Johnny teased his mouth open and began his exploration of Jensen's mouth. Jensen sagged against the doorjamb, and heard a little chuckle. One last chaste kiss on the forehead and he was gone. Jensen grasped the door to remain upright.

He wandered around in a daze. He went through the motions of washing his face and brushing his teeth, but Jensen couldn't think of anything but that kiss. One thing was certain: that was how adventure tasted.

Next.