Chapter 12: Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead (J2, NC-17)

[lucifersprize]

Fic title: Past the Garden Shed and Straight Ahead : Chapter 12
Artist name: amberdreams
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: past domestic abuse, sexual language, non explicit sex, cussing, Chad

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Jared disentangled his limbs from Jensen at five in the morning, slipped out of bed and into his shorts. He thought Jensen looked beautiful, sleep-mussed and fucked out. He was a good lover, adventurous and considerate, and with the sort of stamina that could really impress a guy. Still, Jared couldn’t sleep, because he was ready for more. Not just sex, though it undoubtedly rocked, but more of Jensen.

Plaster dust was gritty under his bare toes as he paced over floorboards, minding the gaps, on the way to Jensen’s kitchen. He rifled through the fridge and through cupboards until he found everything he needed for pancakes and set about making a stack while a fresh pot of coffee brewed.

The kitchen was far from finished. A rag rug served as the only floor cover, the walls were bare back to brick, and electric wire was neatly taped in loops. Still, it was serviceable and it was clear that Christian had designed it well. The view central to the counter tops was a deep and wide window that faced east, over unkempt vegetable gardens and down to the road with the community woodland beyond it. A pale dusk sky gave way to a burst of blues, orange and pink, and a murder of crows ascended from silhouette trees to wheel and caw their greeting to a sun that rose as a dazzling orb of copper. He made a mental note to check his designs. They should pack an impact from here. He resolved to ask for a tour of the house, checking the view from each room. He should have done it at the beginning and he would kick himself later and learn from his mistake. He cradled his coffee as he took in every last moment and color of the sacred time.

He felt a soft kiss on his bare shoulder and an arm around his waist, “Early bird,” yawned Jensen. “Mm. You made breakfast. Doesn’t that break the rules?”

Jensen poured syrup over his pancakes and was virtually inhaling them before Jared could answer. “We should have this on the terrace,” he said between mouthfuls. That sunrise is awesome.

“Yeah, we should,” agreed Jared. “Your house, your rules.”

“In that case, we should go back to bed,” he teased with an impish grin.

“I have a reputation to keep, Mr. Ackles, and I suspect you do too. I need to be out of here before workmen arrive.”

Jensen pretended to sulk, “We have,” he looked out at the sun, “about an hour and a half before anybody gets here and anyway, I have a bad reputation .” 

The man was going to ruin him.

Jensen continued,  “Never mind. I will concede that yours is upstanding. I will have to respect it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Jared would normally be staring at Jensen’s bare chest with his nipples pert in the dawn chill. Instead, his mind raced with hopes and possible consequences. He wanted to take a chance. It was time to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m sorry..”

“I’m sorry..” they spoke together.

This was where his fantasy would be crushed before he even got to the starting post . “You go first,” offered Jared.

Jensen started again, green eyes intently fixed on Jared, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I thought I could come sweeping in and be some sort of hero. The more Fli and I talked about it, the more I got carried away with rescuing you from an evil faerie spell, so you would love me and we would live happily ever after. Or some such crap. Blame my sister, she’s a romantic as well as a scholar.”

“And you’re not romantic?” he replied with a wry grin.

“Maybe a little. But the point is that I stopped thinking about the reality for you. And that was wrong of me. I made you ill. I didn’t stop when I should have backed off. For all of that I apologize.”

Jared warmed his fingers on his mug, trying to find the right words to speak out loud. “You are the first person, ever, to believe me. I have never had anyone offer to help. Except the psychiatric kind, of course. You have no idea how much that means to me. I know that Felicia has put time and effort into researching this, and you too. I was caught off guard and ungrateful. The thing is...and don’t think I am disrespecting your sister’s work, “ he paused, willing himself to say what he had avoided all his life, “...but the thing is, I think, it’s me. I think that maybe I do need psychiatric help. It means that I have to face a possibility that is unpleasant. I want to clear a path to live my life but if I accept it, it also means that I will lose what I want most right now.”

Jensen’s gaze never left him, “What do you want?”

He could feel his eyes tearing up, “I want to date you.” He put his mug down and turned away, to wipe his eyes.

“Hell! I’m down with that!” Jensen seemed genuinely thrilled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t want that?”

Jared ran his hands through his hair so desperately that thick strands came away in his fingers, “It means that my mother killed my father and I am as crazy as she is, for believing her faerie stories.”

“Hey, hey!” Jensen was suddenly by his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back, his skin on Jared’s skin and it felt so good, so comforting. “You were a kid. She’s your mom and whatever trauma you went through, this was how she dealt with it. I am certain she believes it and it was meant with kindness. Of course you believed her. It’s what kids do.”

“I’m twenty six, Jensen. I should have grown out of faerie stories years ago. She is delusional. She is in a mental hospital because of those delusions. What the hell was I thinking?”

Jensen pondered his question, for an agonizingly long time.

Just say it , he thought, just tell me I’m the loser son of a killer.

He scooted onto the stone bench next to Jared. His warm body pressed against him. "Talk me through it. What were you thinking?”

“Eh?”

“Give me all the reasons that you continued to believe you were betrothed to a faerie. Then we’ll judge if you’re crazy.”

“What?”

“Try it.”

They got dressed and Jensen refreshed their coffee, while Jared tried to order his thoughts. He hadn’t known him long but he was starting to trust him.

Jensen was an attentive listener. Jared described his childhood with his charming but cruel and alcoholic father, and then described the herb garden where they played to escape his father’s attention. He skipped over painful details, they were irrelevant. He told him about the day, when he was seven years old and his father came home drunk and clutching a fresh bottle. His mother had been gossiping with the old lady next door, but dashed in to make his supper as soon as she noticed him. As she rushed into the living room he was already kneeling on the floor, his lips blue and his hand clutched over his chest. He was dead before the ambulance arrived.

Of course, he hadn’t understood much at the time, only that his father was gone and his mother had been taken away in a police car. His grandma had come to collect him and a new normal had begun. He vaguely remembered pulling on his grandma’s hand and insisting that he wanted the faeries to come with him.

“Why do you think you imagined them?” Jensen asked.

“I was an imaginative child, always making up stories - it was a way of hiding from a frightening life - that much I know about child psychology.”

He went on to describe how his mother had spent time in custody before being transferred to a mental health facility and deemed unfit to go to trial. There had been bullying and taunts about her, all through school and Jared had visited her, an angry child looking for answers. Her story never varied - she had asked the faeries in the herb garden to help them and the price was always too high - Jared’s hand in marriage. But things got worse, his dad broke one of Jared's ribs in a fit of rage and soon she no longer believed that he would survive to grow up and marry, unless his father was gone. So, she bargained with the faeries, insisting that they waited until her son’s education was complete. They promised her that he would always have a roof over his head, food on his table and kindness from his bride. When his father had fallen dead, she knew the deal was done and the contract would be called in one day. She despaired over her choice but she could see no way to break it. It fueled a spiral of depression and her medication began to cloud her mind and memory. By the time he was twelve, Jared’s ire had retreated. He knew she had been desperate. He stopped asking questions and came to enjoy his visits with her. He even offered to help when the facility’s management decided that patients would create and maintain their own sensory garden as part of their therapy.

“I wanted to believe she was innocent,” Jared sighed. He picked tangled hair from his fingers. “I was delusional. What if the crazy is genetic?”

Jensen stayed his hand. “You gotta stop pulling your hair, it’s my job,” he said, lightening the mood.

“Mm. You do it very well,” he gave a brief chuckle. “Anyway, that’s it, I guess. My life betrothed to a faerie, and how I discovered gardening. Do you still want to date this crazy person?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jensen growled as he moved in to chuck his chin and steal a coffee flavored kiss. His lips were soft, his tongue perfectly talented and Jared cupped the back of his neck to pull him in, returning it until they were breathless.

When they were done and his lips tingled deliciously with the aftermath, he said he was ready to start the day’s work.

“But you haven’t finished,” insisted Jensen. “There must have been reasons you continued to believe?”

“Yeah, I guess I look too deeply. I was always doing research and there is so much lore. One myth even says that dealing with faeries can make a person go crazy. I probably cherry-picked legends and made a story to fit the facts.The kids who bullied me always got detention or some other consequence. Then, whenever things got bad financially, I always pulled through. Our old house was sold to a developer, I got a scholarship, my grandmother left me a small trust fund. I managed to set up this little business and buy a small apartment. Chad could be a douche in school but he’s been there for me and he came along for the ride, which made things easier and more fun. It seemed like something or somebody supernatural was looking out for me. I mean, I never did struggle too much.” He decided not to mention  his dreams, vivid with scent and sound, in which faeries talked in riddles and played hide and go seek with him. They had never seemed significant. And his imaginary animals? Well, all children have imaginary friends.

“Or maybe you were a loyal friend who worked hard and took whatever chances you were given?”

He pointed at Jensen in agreement, “Maybe. So, it’s time for me to move on.”

“You’re not going on a quest?” Jensen sounded disappointed.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. The destination is gone. Therefore, the only quest I am going on, is one to get into your pants at every opportunity!” He swatted Jensen’s ass playfully. “But first, I am going to design the best goddamn faerie trail in the west, and children will flock from all around to see it.”

Jensen looked inexplicably concerned, “Consult Fli on it. Let’s keep it respectful.”

“After everything, you still believe in little folk?”

“I believed before I met you, and whether they had a part in your father’s death or not, yes I still believe. Are you gonna have a problem with that?”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, no, okay, but I told you my story. Next time, you tell me yours.”

He grabbed his bag, intending to fling it into his truck before Chad arrived, and made for the door.

It really was a glorious morning. Fluffy clouds sauntered across a duck-egg blue sky and the faintest breeze stirred through long grass and trees. He walked across the wrap-around porch, shading his eyes with his hand to survey the slight incline of the drive to the road. The porch decking dipped underfoot but he barely noticed because a pair of blackbirds chased each other, squabbling over a worm, and further out, by the hedge, a squirrel dashed up an ash tree with a berry in its mouth. There was another movement too, he squinted at a large shadowy figure. “Oh!” Jared gasped, as a white deer, with wide, impressive antlers, stepped into the open and stopped to stare right at him. It was a white hart, magnificent and ethereal. “Jens... “

CREAK

He thought he heard Jensen swearing just before he fell through the rotten wood of the porch and his ankle cracked with a pain so intense that he blacked out.

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