J2 Fic. Cool Water Laps At My Toes.
Title: Cool Water Laps At My Toes (time-stamp one-shot for Bars At My Windows)
Author: Blueeyedliz
Summary: For Jared and Jensen it turns out that what comes after San Quentin is the real beginning of their story.
Rating: NC/17
Disclaimer: While J2 will be on my Christmas present wish list this year, I don’t own a damn thing and no disrespect is intended to the very real people used in this story.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who left me comments on ‘Bars At My Window’ and gave me the encouragement to write this time-stamp. I love you guys and please remember when reading...you’ve only yourselves to blame. : ) A special thank you goes to my good friends Heatherofnight and Scarlettraven9 as well as Amtamburo for her beautiful art and Obnoxiousblond, a lovely lady from Costa Rica who let me raid her brain. Also a manly pat on the back hug to Joe for making me smile and showing me how new friends can pop up most unexpectedly.
Bars At My Window Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Cool Water Laps At My Toes
6 months later....
Jared and Jensen don’t exist. Not anymore. On paper their names are Sam Carpenter and Dean Donaldson. It takes a hell of a lot of practice before they’re even a tiny bit comfortable with the way their new names sound on their tongues but having something worth losing makes them practised and careful, so careful.
The La Perla Parrot Farm located in the foothills of Volcan Turrialba, in the province of Limon, Costa Rica is run by an elderly American known as Al Hatfield. Jared doesn’t remember him but the silver haired gentleman with kind eyes, large crooked smile and a belly-laugh unlike anything Jared and Jensen have ever heard before, welcomes them into his home with wide open arms. Al makes a point of ruffling Jared’s hair as though he’s some mischievous eight-year-old and bends Jensen’s ear about how when he last saw Jared, the kid was knee-high to a grasshopper.
They like Al from the get go, it’s impossible not to. He’s older than Jared’s dad, somewhere in his late sixties. Although he won’t admit to his real age Al repeatedly tells both boys the older the fiddle the sweeter the music and then laughs so hard his eyes water.
It comes to light that the parrot farm was Al’s wife’s dream but when she passed away several years ago he decided to keep running the place on his own. He’d been managing well enough until arthritis in the joints of his hands had started to cause him a great deal of pain and as a result he’d been hiring help from the local village. He’d never give up the farm though, not when it gave him comfort to carry on something that his wife had loved so dearly.
The farm homes around a hundred different species of parrot and caters to breeders, pet shops and private owners. Some of the birds are rescue cases and Al can’t or won’t sell them, especially the few that he hand-reared himself. All the birds have their own cages except for Percy, a forty-two year old African Gray parrot who lives in the main house with Al. Jensen actually believes that Percy’s real home is Al’s right shoulder given that Percy always seems to be sitting there, making Al look like some kind of madcap modern day pirate. Minus the eye patch and wooden leg of course.
Al won’t tolerate free-loaders. Jared and Jensen work hard undertaking a wide range of different chores from cleaning and repairing cages to food preparation and handling telephone enquiries. Al isn’t wealthy like the Padaleckis and pays a meager wage but he puts a roof over their heads and feeds them, preparing a home-cooked meal from scratch each night.
It quickly becomes routine for the boys to spend their evenings sitting with Al-and Percy-in the main house’s cosy kitchen. They enjoy many hours talking at his large oak table, watching numerous saucepans bubbling away and breathing in the delicious smells which permeate the room. Jared is more accustomed to fancy restaurants with portions around the size of a postage stamp but he much prefers the meals Al creates and after years of prison fodder, Jensen thinks he’s in seventh-heaven. For the first few weeks, when they are still adjusting to their new surroundings, Jensen eats the home cooked comida tipica (native dishes) until he’s green around the gills and clutching at his stomach. Yet he always finds space for a last helping of fried plantain, even as Jared is hauling him out of his chair and half-carrying him off to bed.
Al knows his two new hired-hands are escaped convicts. He’s heard the full story from Jared’s dad but he never questions them about it and he’s not the type of man who passes judgement. He knows they are lovers too. That much he figures out for himself just by watching the way they act around each-other. Al’s pale blue eyes are quick to notice how Jared’s hand will sometimes stray to Jensen’s shoulder as though it has a mind of its own. And not only that but also how it lingers there for a long minute, the thumb absently rubbing gently against Jensen’s neck.
Some nights they finish off their supper with a few shots of Flor de Caña Dorado rum or occasionally guaro if money is tight, guaro is pretty nasty Jensen decides but still a million times better than Tommy’s homebrew and the alcoholic content rivals even the strongest brand of vodka. It’s those nights in particular when they are seven or eight shots down-and their sleepy-eyed Texas drawl has grown thick and heavy in their slurred voices- that Jared will fall asleep on the porch swing. His head pillowed on Jensen’s knee, long legs tucked in tight to fit the tiny space. On those nights, Jensen will bend forward to steal a kiss and Al will give him a knowing smile-one which shows he too values how special love can be-before climbing out of his own chair and disappearing inside, the door clicking softly closed behind him.
They have a shack of their own which stands on the sprawling lush green land belonging to the farm. It’s actually a decent sized cabin but Jensen calls it a shack because it’s made of wood, there are no carpets and the thin piece of glass at the window is cracked and lets in rain water. But it’s home and Jensen secretly adores it. He never thought he would be the home-maker type, never even had a real home before, but he delights in the experience of waking up somewhere that doesn’t have bars on the window.
It takes awhile to shake off prison habits. Both men are regularly worn-out by nightfall and Al ribs then mercilessly about how two young pups could be such lightweights. It’s simply that they’re strangers to the physical labor the farm demands and the sheer amount of general maintenance work the place requires. They are both too accustomed to being confirmed to their tiny cells and an exercise routine which consisted solely of walking the perimeter of the prison yard fence. But hard work makes their days pass quickly and after several months, their stamina has almost doubled and they are both sporting aches in places they never even knew they had muscles.
-0-
Some mornings when Jensen lies in bed-awake but with his eyes squeezed closed against the dazzling rays of dawn sunlight-he savours the warmth of Jared’s body wrapped around him like a blanket. After their first few nights on the run, he had swiftly come to appreciate that Jared is a secret night-time hugger. They’d fallen asleep together many times before but never spent an entire night in one bed until after escaping San Quentin. Jensen sleeps long and deep, now that he knows he will wake up to find Jared still snuggled close to him.
When Jensen’s eyelids eventually do creep open, he often finds himself trying to put every detail of Jared’s face to memory. The tiny creases Jared gets around his eyes when he smiles, the pale white line of the scar on his cheek. “Think we’ll be safe here forever?” Jensen asks aloud even though Jared is still sleeping-one long graceful arm draped across Jensen’s bicep-but the words aren’t spoken for his ears.
Jensen doesn’t know why he hasn’t enough faith to believe anything so perfect will be allowed to last. He’s found his safe haven in the vast ocean he always feared when he was in prison and yet he can’t stop staring out to sea, watching for the tidal wave which waits to come and wash it all away. “Please, let me keep this...” Jensen prays, but he’s not even sure who he’s praying to.
-0-
August in Costa Rica is scorching hot; it’s a Sunday so the farm is closed and free from the usual bustle of visitors. Nevertheless the parrots still need attending to and chores are carried out as normal. Around noon, Jensen spots Jared standing inside Annabel’s cage. The rainbow macaw happily nibbling at a pecan nut which Jared is holding between his thumb and forefinger. “We’ve got the afternoon free.” Jared says, not even bothering to hide the grin which appears on his face as Jensen wanders over to lean against the wire mesh of the cage. “Al said we could borrow his old moped and I was thinking we could take it over to Cahuita. He says only locals use that beach and it’s really secluded. We could go swimming, if you want?”
“Dude, you think I can swim?” Jensen mutters, kicking at the wood chippings on the ground, an embarrassed blush flooding his face. Swimming is something that kids who had normal childhoods did, something Jensen never learned because he never had anyone to teach him.
“You can’t swim?”
“Oh yeah, sure, at the weekend Warden Kripke used to hire a bus and we’d all go surfing.” Jensen frowns when he realizes how biting his tone sounds.
“I’m sorr-”
“Shit, no don’t apologize.” Jensen says hastily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I...I didn’t think.” Jared is looking down at Annabel, fingers stroking the soft red feathers at her chest. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “It’s just...I took lessons every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Mom must have thought she was preparing me for the Olympics or something but I think she preferred me to have after-school activities so I wouldn’t overhear her fighting with my dad.” Jared gets up and walks out of the cage, locking it behind him. His hand rests so briefly against Jensen’s arm that Jensen only feels the ghost of a touch. “It was a stupid idea. We’ll get pizza and watch the box. I’m really starting to like the ‘Pura Sangre’ telenovela, I think Eduardo might have the hots for Susana.
Before Jensen can say anything else, Jared has disappeared out of sight.
-0-
Al is listening to Tina Turner on his ancient tinny radio and dancing around inside one of the many farm storage sheds when Jensen finally tracks him down. Al makes an embarrassed clucking noise and scowls at being rumbled as a closet Turner fan, quickly getting back to the task of sorting through various bags of mixed seed for his birds.
“So...” Jensen begins, smirking as Al sticks out a hand and clicks off the radio just as Tina is asking what’s love got to do with it. “Jared tells me you’re gonna let us borrow your moped?”
“Huh? Oh yeah...but Jay said you weren’t going to Cahuita. You change your mind or something kid?”
“Guess it’s about time we went out and saw some of the sights.” Jensen says, taking the moped key from Al’s outstretched hand.
“Well, just be careful, okay?” Al answers sternly before floundering a little. “I mean, not that I can’t find better help to hire than you pair of lazy bums.”
Jensen grins, warmth filling his chest at the old man’s obvious concern for his two most recently acquired strays. “We’re always careful. Don’t wait up old timer.”
“Old timer?!” Al fumes in disbelief, and Jensen rushes out of the shed before he gets belted in the face with a rather large bag of Nutriparrot pellets.
-0-
Jared is sitting on the steps of their cabin when Jensen rides up on Al’s moped. Jared stands, shaking his head in mock-surprise but his smile is wide and genuine. “You getting on or do you have something better to do?” Jensen asks holding out his hand.
Jared wipes the dust from the seat of his pants and swings himself onto the moped behind Jensen, strong arms wrapping around Jensen’s waist. “Hold on tight, I have a need for speed.” Jensen shouts over the rattling noise of the moped’s ancient engine.
It kicks up dust with more of a splutter than a roar but within no time, the moped is eating up the road and heading in the direction of Cahuita.
-0-
Al’s recommendation doesn’t disappoint, Cahuita beach is nothing short of spectacular. The sand is a pale white and the sea a crystal shimmering blue, clear enough for you to see the coral reef if you were to swim out far enough. The beach is lined with coconut trees and they walk for what feels like miles, stopping every now and then to watch tiny iguanas scamper across their paths. With sand between their toes and a hot sun on their backs they keep walking until they find a sheltered stretch of beach free of other people.
Jensen doesn’t take to swimming quite like a duck to water, more like an uncoordinated grouchy Texan who, after almost an hour spent swallowing half the Caribbean Sea, rapidly comes to the conclusion that it was God’s will he was born with arms and legs instead of flippers.
Both starting to shiver a little, they splash their way out of the ocean and head up the beach to a spot partly shaded by a large palm tree where they can lay on the sand without getting burnt to a crisp. Jensen finally seems to relax once he’s out of the water and rests his head back against Jared’s chest, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
“Jared.” It’s a softly whispered word, almost buried by the sound of rolling waves.
“It’s Sam, okay Dean?” Jared replies quickly.
“Please? There’s nobody around. Just this one time?”
It only takes a second for Jared to think about it. “Okay...Jen.”
Jared rolls onto his back, staring up at the cloudless sky between the palm tree branches. The sand is fine and soft as he lets it filter between his fingers. He closes his eyes, just enjoying the feel of the sun warming his body. He’s almost drifting off to sleep when a droplet of cold water lands on his neck, causing him to yelp. The yelp softens into a low moan when Jensen puts a finger on his face and slowly lets it travel over Jared’s forehead, down the long curve of his nose and over his lips. That’s when Jared puts a stop to the journey by kissing the finger, opening his mouth to suck at the tip, hazel eyes brimming with wicked amusement.
Jensen presses his mouth to Jared’s chest. He nibbles playfully at the hard nipples with his teeth before slipping his hand down inside Jared’s trunks. “You’re so fucking unbelievably sexy.” Jared mouths the words against Jensen’s ear, moving his head then so that the pink tongue darting out from between his lips can lick at the beads of salty sea water on Jensen’s freckled nose. Jensen’s hand tightens its grip around Jared’s cock, which throbs and swells at his touch. He tugs gently, all the while his mouth whispers soft promises over the skin of Jared’s chest. Jared comes, wet and warm splashing onto Jensen’s hand before he sinks down to lie flat on his back with a satisfied sigh. Jensen lowers himself down too and side by side they settle down in the sand, arms touching.
“Do you miss it?” Jensen asks out of the blue, “Texas, your folks...”
“Sometimes. I’d be a liar if I said otherwise but-“
“But?”
“I have you now and it seems like a fair trade. Throw in a candy bar and I reckon you’re a keeper.”
“Asshole.” Jensen grumbles as Jared starts to laugh. “It’s easy to be happy in Costa Rica though, right? Because, shovelling bird shit aside, it really is paradise here?” He adds uncertainly. His question is serious; he doesn’t want Jared to pine for America. Truth is, they are both a very long way away from everything they’ve ever known.
Jared’s moves a strand of hair out of his eyes. The laughter has left his lips now. “Don’t you get it?” He says, voice dropping to a husky sweet whisper. “My idea of paradise is you. Home for me is wherever you are.”
Jensen is speechless, mouth left hanging open. Jared gets up before Jensen can think fast enough to grab his arm to stop him and starts jogging down the beach towards the ocean. “I gotta get cleaned up.” Jared shouts over his shoulder, stopping short when he sees the pitiful expression on Jensen’s face. Jared shakes his head. “Fuck it, maybe I need to get messy again first.” He grins before running back and diving on top of Jensen.
“I really do love you.” Jensen groans as Jared starts to tug off his trunks.
“And I love hearing you say it.”
-end-
Thanks sooooooo much for letting me indulge in this giant schmoop-fest of an ending. I’ve had a total blast.