lucifersprize

Fic title: Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead
Artist name: amberdreams
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: past domestic abuse, non explicit sex, sexual language, cussing, Chad

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***

Jared hated to admit that Chad was right but Jensen’s sudden appearance at The Hawthorn Tree had been odd and it did prove better to swap shifts. He avoided any awkward encounters with Jensen, Mrs. Fowler recommended them to a neighbor, and the school playing fields were an easy day. He wasn’t entirely ignoring the Ackles garden, he negotiated an incredible deal with Beaver’s nursery on white oaks and bulbs for the driveway and a contractor was selected for fencing and paths. And yes, he had taken some time to think about his past and his future. Not that he had drawn any conclusions or made any decisions but he was twenty six, his mother was hospitalized for a mental disorder, his best friend was a whisker away from getting married and he was avoiding his client because of faeries and an ill considered weekend of sex. It couldn’t go on but he had no idea how to turn it around either.

It all came to a head on Friday morning, with the buzz of his doorbell while he was busy planting baskets on his balcony. Jared put down his seedlings and wiped compost from his hands. He grabbed his wallet and prepared himself for the embarrassment of a further encounter with the President of the Housing Association, because of course a neighbor had reported ‘lewd noises past quiet hours’. A fine for $50.00 had been issued and he had stuttered a beet-red apology, promised he would have the money for him by the end of the week, and assured him that it wouldn't happen again.

No small talk, take the money and go, he prayed silently as he answered the door, offering a $50 note in his right hand to … Jensen.

“Is this a bribe to make me go away, because I have to tell you, $50 is not going to cut it,” he deadpanned Jared, but his tone was icy. “Can I come in? It is a business matter and your business is listed at this address.”

“Um, yeah, I’ll just…” he stuffed the banknote into his pocket and laughed awkwardly, “I thought you were the HOA, lewd behavior fine, y’know. Anyway, my office is kind of small and off the bedroom, but you know that. Generally, I hire a workspace if I need it. Or go for coffee.” Was Jensen stalking him? Could he be any more awkward?

Jensen was still at the door. He always looked so intensely at Jared .

Jared shivered, despite the warmth of the day because turning up unannounced, at your gardener’s home, days after a one night stand, was not normal. Bunny boiler, his brain reminded him. “Yeah, oh, kitchen then? At least I know how you have your coffee.” he chuckled nervously. Oh god, why did he have to laugh like that?

Jensen stepped past him and through to the kitchen. It gave Jared a view of his back. It was a nicely shaped back, with muscular shoulders and a slim waist, and he remembered exactly how it felt under his fingertips when those muscles flexed during sex. Get a grip, Jared. No, not that sort of grip! God! Stop thinking, Jared!

He followed. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Jensen patted a bar stool and Jared sat obediently. He eyed his knife block and tried to calculate a route to it.

“You look pale. Are you unwell?” Jensen seemed genuinely concerned. He put down his keys, grabbed some mugs and set them on the counter to make coffee, like it was his own kitchen and who does that?

“No, I, um, it’s just a little awkward,” admitted Jared.

“Because you have blocked my number and ignored my email? Or because of the lewd weekend behavior? Because if it’s the latter, I had a fantastic time and you have absolutely no need to be ashamed, whatever your uptight neighbors might think.”

Jared felt the need to defend them, “It was the balcony…”

“The former though, is disappointing and inconvenient. I thought we were being professional, Mr. Padalecki.”

He shook himself out of his fugue, because that was uncalled for. He could be icy too. “Chad - er, Mr. Michael-Murray was liaising with you this week. He has been with you every day. I am sure he can deal with any queries you have.”

“Except, he seems entirely unable to explain why there is zero progress on the design or execution of the fairy trail that I requested to be a priority.”

Oh.

“Well, obviously, the wooded areas related to it must be safe and we shall be repurposing some of the timber trimmed from your trees. Tree surgery is being undertaken this week.” Yeah, he could bullshit.

Jensen placed his mug on the counter and settled with his hands on his chin, looking at Jared. His expression softened, “I’m sorry if I misjudged you. You must think I’m some sort of psycho stalker. A dream has been requested. I would like to host it myself, if at all possible.” He picked his coffee up again and cradled it in his hands, like he needed the warmth. He tipped his head to the side, an invitation for Jared to talk.

Jared hated long silences and Jensen looked so genuine. “I swear I will get on it.”

“Tell me your vision for it. Whatever you have so far.”

Jared was lost for words. There was no vision or inspiration. He hadn’t wanted to think about faeries.

That intense green stare was accompanied by a simple, “Ah!” before Jared’s most important client gulped the last of his coffee and his empty mug made a dull thud on the surface. He picked up his keys and slipped off the stool.

He was leaving. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“I will pick you up on Sunday morning, at 10.00, Mr. Padalecki.”

He felt a flicker of annoyance at the gall of the man. “I didn’t agree to work on Sundays.”

“Good, because we are going on a field trip. A quest, if you like. We’ll take my unicorn.”

Oh, the presumption! “I told you, Mr. Ackles, I don’t date."

“There is no date. Think of it as a part of your continuous personal development. I promise it will be of interest to you. Wear something practical, with comfortable shoes, and bring your camera and a notebook.”

“I might be doing something!” he protested.

“What? Washing your hair? You don’t date, Mr. Padalecki.”

It was a low blow. “You have a contract for my services, not my body, Mr. Ackles.”

If Jared had expected him to be angry, he was wrong. Jensen sighed and jingled the keys in his hand, he looked inexplicably sad. “We do have a contract and I have no wish to break it but if you feel you cannot complete it, I will agree to cancel, with no ill will.”

His stomach did a flip. The man was infuriating but he couldn’t afford to piss him off. He needed this contract. It was a golden ticket that any gardener his age could only dream of. And maybe there was a small part of him that couldn’t bear the idea of never seeing Jensen again.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t come,” he conceded, forcing a bright smile, “I shall look forward to it.”

Jensen looked relieved. “Great. Well. I’ll see you then.”

“Sure."

He watched him from the balcony as he walked back to his Impala with a bounce in his step, turning to look up at Jared and give him his excited, childish wave, like the day he had gone to Vegas. Jared wondered where his personal assistant and Christian had gone to. Did the man infuriate everyone?

xxx

Jared woke in the night with a cold sweat on his brow. There had been faeries in a borage patch. Christian had been there, his bright blue eyes full of laughter and lips which twisted with anger as a shadow approached. Sharp, curled fingernails offered him a tiny teacup, then a flitter and flutter and animpression of a tiny redhead crossed his vision. Then they were all gone except Jared and his mother and a thundercloud father with the clap, clap, clap of a heavy leather belt. It seemed so real. But it was always faeries and it always did. The need for answers from his delusional mother seemed to regularly trigger him after his Friday visits and the inclusion of Christian was unsurprising considering his mixed feelings since the night of the Hawthorn Tree and he had long ago stopped wondering if there were any significant memories to pull from his nightmares.

That evening he had asked his mother something different, “How did you do it?”

“I couldn’t,” she had answered, already starting to melt into a mess of wailing and tears, “And now they are going to take you.”

“I’m here, mom,” he had reassured her, “It’s okay.”

A lamp suffused soft light. He drank warm milk, completed a Sudoku and resolved to go back to sleep. It was seventeen years since his father died from a heart attack brought on by digitalis and in all that time, nobody had been able to determine where the foxglove infusion had come from, or where it’s container had gone. His dad had staggered home from a bar with a fresh, sealed bottle of liquor and died before Jared’s mother even finished gossiping with the neighbor to rush in and make his tea. She had told Jared it was the faeries, and the dreams had haunted him ever since. If it hadn’t been faeries then the only rational explanation for his father’s death was a whole different nightmare.

He yawned. I should get a dog, he thought . It could lie by his side at night, and it would be soft to cuddle when he couldn’t sleep. Or a boyfriend, his rebellious mind offered.

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