A Day for the Beach (J2, R)
My second spn_reversebang entry is for a lovely prompt that needed a home. Angsty Jensen needing to be loved? I am so there.
Art Title: A Secret Among Soulmates
Prompt Number: 2002
Artist: evian_fork
Fic Title: A Day For The Beach
Author: brutti_ma_buoni
Fandom/Genre: domestic, emotional journey
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 6500
Warnings: past Jensen/JDM
Summary: Jensen's been closed off for a long time. He doesn't meet people, he doesn't have friends, he doesn't have music. He doesn't need any of that. But some determined neighbours start to change the way he feels, by means of cunning and cats. And then he meets Jared, drifting through life in a way Jensen can't imagine. Can their very different lives come together?
Art Link(s): LJ
Jensen doesn’t really have friends. More pleasant contacts. And rivals. And people-to-nod to. And people-who-want-stuff.
There are a lot of people-who-want stuff. It gets old.
It's therefore odd and alarming that the new neighbours don't get this. Don't get Jensen. They came around with wine on the day after moving in. They stayed to drink wine. Then Misha brought a casserole the next day, which Jensen's pretty sure is the wrong way around with newly-moved-in neighbours. But Victoria seems preternaturally organised, and Misha is definitely not a guy to let social convention get in his way, so Jensen guesses this has not been a big topic of discussion in the Collins household. They saw the condition of his pristine, antiseptically-perfect kitchen, in which nothing more complex than coffee has ever been created. They watched him fumble for something (anything) to feed them. (Peanuts. Olives. Crackers. Nope.)
(He did find some coffee creamer, which was unexpected. Presumably his cleaner brought it for herself. He made a mental note to tell her she should buy milk and use the refrigerator. He hasn't done it yet.)
So, yeah. The Collinses are not Jensen's usual run of neighbours. It's not even really a surprise when Misha knocks on the door a few weeks after and says, "There's someone I want you to meet." Misha has invited Jensen - so far - to a total of four dinners, barbecues or potlucks. He has introduced Jensen to (approximately, but in no way exaggeratedly) a hundred people Jensen has apparently lived near for the past five years. Misha met most of them in the past month. They are all his friends now.
Even Jensen may be Misha's friend. He's testing the idea. It's odd. Jensen moved to Miami intending to live the life that Misha's living. He had overlooked the way he had no idea how to socialise after seven years of coding twenty hours a day, every day. It was a pretty fundamental error. The kind that borks code beyond salvage. Jensen's life has remained mostly borked ever since, at least under the surface where nobody tends to look. Especially not people-who-want-stuff.
It is a surprise that the 'someone' is a cat. "Uh, you got a pet?" Jensen is mostly surprised because Misha and Vicky both talk about how they travel a lot, and that seems kind of irresponsible.
"No, Jensen. You got a pet. Meet Primrose."
Jensen looks at Misha. "No."
"She loves you," says Misha, putting the cat (Primrose? Really?) down. It sits on Jensen's stripped wooden flooring, and ignores them both. "You're totally compatible."
"Misha-" Jensen pauses. Angry would be wrong. Misha is not an employee. He's an inexplicably confusing neighbour slash friend query. The cat continues to ignore the situation. It stretches out on the floor, opening up a vulnerable underbelly. Stupid cat. Jensen ignores it, in retaliation. "Misha, I don't like cats."
"Sure you do."
"I don't like cats. And I don't want a cat."
"Jensen, buddy," Misha puts a hand on Jensen's arm. Jensen twitches. He doesn't get touched a lot. Especially not like this, by a friend. "I have never met someone who needs a cat more than you." He pauses, then adds with no change of tone, "We would have offered you a threesome instead, but I don't think Vicky's your type. Besides, we're going away for a little. You need some company."
Jensen is sweating. His central air is working well. It's not even a very warm day, though Misha has been leaning on his doorframe and letting in the real weather all this time. Misha is the most confusing man Jensen knows. But he doesn't want to get into some big fight with the closest thing he currently has to a friend.
(Threesome? What?)
He looks down at the cat. It stops exposing its belly, and rolls over. Looks consideringly around the house, plotting its next strategic move, and evidently decides Jensen is the boss. It starts to wind ingratiatingly around his ankles.
Misha says, "I knew you guys would get along." And leaves.
After the door closes, Jensen spots a book on the hall table. So, You Got Yourself A Cat! it says. He considers hurling it in the trash. Locking out the cat. Going back to a sensible life.
The cat purrs at his feet. It's warm, but Jensen isn't sweating now. He sits down on the floor with the cat. He's never done that before. It's illogical. This is a nice house, with good furniture. He paid a very high end designer to furnish it to meet his needs, and he's happy with the result. Why would he sit on the floor?
He's sitting in a sunbeam, on a wood floor. A cat is in his arms, on his lap. Jensen just… feels for a while. It's pretty nice.
All the scene needs is some music. But when he thinks that, Jensen remembers how his life here doesn't really work. He lets go of the cat. A cloud seems to pass over the sun. Sitting on the floor is stupid.
He stands up, and reaches for the book. Apparently, he has a cat. There's bound to be something he needs to know about food or poop. Thanks for this, Misha.
Misha and Vicky are away for two months. Two damn months.
For those nine long weeks, Jensen works, if you can call it work. He attends the usual functions, drinks the stupidly modish cocktails. Meets and talks to people who want things from him. Makes new contacts, aka people-who-want-stuff, or in some cases people-Jensen-can-sell-stuff-to. Makes no friends. Same old.
At home, though, he clears litter trays. He sits on the floor with the cat, sometimes. He buys cat toys, because it has to be dull for the cat when he's out, and also she has started to play with his shoes, which are expensive. He buys cat food, and then it seems stupid not to also buy people food, so he learns where the supermarkets are and what's good and easy to make. He buys a cookbook and burns stuff.
He even talks to one of the parties of sunbaked tourist fishermen at the Beach. He says, "I have a cat," and they give him offcuts with a smile. The cat appreciates this gesture with an amount of love Jensen considers kind of whorish. But, you know, it works. So he returns to the Beach, sometimes. Not too often. Don't want to spoil the cat.
He replaces his dark couch covers, because the cat is pale-bellied and looks disapprovingly at the seat where she sheds. His house looks less perfect. He takes the guitar out of the spare room. He doesn't play it.
He chases a lot of other neighbourhood cats away at a certain point, and makes veterinary appointments so that doesn't happen again. Although he also feeds them some of the leftover fish scraps, which is illogical.
He becomes resigned to the cat being called Primrose. Well, Prim. Kinda suits her.
It feels, just a little, as though Jensen's life is unborking. Which is more than a little sad, when it’s just a cat that made the difference. But less borked is good. Or, you know, better.
When Misha and Vicky come back to Miami, Jensen is truly pleased. Vicky comes by to apologise for Gift of Unwanted Cat, but she stops when she sees how Prim sits by Jensen's feet. Glaring, he thinks. Prim signals 'Do Not Want' as Vicky offers shelters and friends who take cats. Jensen says, "No, thank you. I'm used to having Prim here."
"Cool," she recovers quickly. "Come over Saturday, around three? We're having drinks by the pool. There's someone we'd like you to meet."
Jensen blinks. Prim is okay. He really doesn't want more cats.
"This one's human," says Vicky.
The Collins pool is purple. It's all wrong. Jensen knows, obviously, that water doesn't have to sit in blue tile. And yet. He stares.
A girl is standing at his elbow, he realises after a little. "Um, hello?"
"Hi!" she says. A big smile from a small woman. She shakes hands, which is sort of odd, and un-Miami, and confuses Jensen enough that he forgets to feel self-conscious. Misha always introduces him as just the neighbour, but people usually know who Jensen is, and it freezes him up. This woman, maybe, not.
"I'm Gen. Genevieve," she says. "I work with Vicky. Kind of, anyway. We wandering artists don’t label easy. And you live in this neighbourhood too, I hear?"
She's easy to talk with. They have a small smile over the Gen/Jen thing. They get second drinks. They discuss purple pools and cats and holiday fishing and art. They don't talk about Indigo. They don't even talk about Ackles Investments.
The number of people Jensen has met since 2004 that haven't mentioned either is so small it may actually just be Gen and Vicky. Misha mentioned both, in his own way ("…but stockbroking never really seemed like a real job to me, and you sold Indigo way back, so we're not going to talk about that…"). It's strange, but it's good.
Jensen realises after a while that he's been at the party for hours, and nobody has wanted stuff from him at all. He's talked mostly with Gen, but now they're in a bigger group of her friends, and it's not awkward. He likes Katie. Jeff seems cool, too, though even the name gives Jensen a tiny pang for Indigo days. (How long since he talked with Jeffrey Dean? More than a year, even just to exchange news, stiff and formal and self-protecting. Too long.)
Then there's a little ripple in the group, and Jeff sighs. "Oh. The kid bro came after all." He sounds… off? For the first time, Jensen doesn't feel at ease with Jeff. Jensen doesn't have siblings, but he always thought he'd like to. Not so much if they talked about him this way though.
Jensen follows Jeff's eyeline, and Katie's smiling wave in the same direction. "Hey, Jared! Over here!" She looks totally different - happy and lit up, like Jared is a great asset to a party. Odd. Maybe it's some family thing with Jeff, some kid rivalry. Jensen isn't so great at fathoming the way people interact sometimes. He decides to decide about Jared when he's actually met Jared.
Let's say first impressions are mixed. Jared is gorgeous, built and tanned, pointy chin, high cheekbones and dark, friendly eyes. But he's kind of scruffy, kind of ungroomed. His hair's really long, and not styled, just scrunched back off his face. He looks as though he might smell a little bad, though he doesn't in fact when Jensen is within reasonable smell range. His clothes are also weirdly mixed; colourful fabrics that don’t look American, and old, old denim that appears like he's owned it for a decade.
He looks, really, like some of the guys they took on at Indigo after the big sales boom. Great guys, great coders, but kind of fried by years of drifting and travel. He is also carrying a big bag. Bigger than a sports bag. More for travelling. Jensen eyes it, silently. Maybe he's just come from the airport. That would make sense.
Jeff walks away pretty soon after Jared joins them, but Jared sticks with the group around Jensen. He's relaxed, casual, knows some of them pretty well, it seems like. He fits. He's definitely not fresh off a plane. Jensen goes back to enjoying the party, and stops wondering about Jared.
It's probably a full hour later, when Misha is wandering around supplying the groups with olives and popcorn for some reason, that Jeff comes back to the group. He isn't the same relaxed guy of earlier. Ignores the rest of the group, looks at the big bag, and says to Jared, "You lost your apartment again, didn't you?"
Jared says, "It didn't work out." He sounds calm, unworried. But Jensen happens to be leaning on the seatback behind Jared, and he can see how his whole spine tenses up as he talks on. "I was wondering, could I maybe crash with-"
"No," Jeff replies, cutting him off. "We said never again. You're not-" He pauses, looks uncomfortably around at the group, who have all fallen silent. "I told you the last time, I can't have you in my house. You're- You don't fit, Jare. The kids, Ellie, they don't- It's not good for us to have you around."
Jared's spine sags, but his voice holds up, still just as calm. "Sorry, Jeff. I respect what you said. I wouldn't ask if-"
Misha shoves a bucket of popcorn between the two brothers, much as a man might step between two swords to stop a duel. Jensen wishes he'd had the guts to do it first. "Hey, Vicky and I have space, Jared. You could stay here awhile, till you find alternative accommodation. We'd like to have you."
Which is probably true, and Jared is in mid thank-you which clashes with Jeff's snort of, "Yeah, till he finds another place. Dream on."
But then Jensen hears himself say, "Hey, my place next door is bigger, and I'm all alone. I was thinking of getting a roommate. If you don't mind cats, you could see if it suits you."
Something very strange has happened to Jensen. He doesn't do impulsive shit. He doesn't interact with people he doesn't know. He doesn't interfere in family stuff or stand up for underdogs, or anything difficult or inconvenient. And he really, really doesn't want a roommate. It's something about Jared's brave face and tattle-telling spine that's making him step up. He's not sure he likes how that feels.
The group has fallen silent, and still. Jared kind of corkscrews his face up to look at Jensen. "Seriously? Because that would be so awesome. Thanks man." He stands up, and reaches over the seatback to give Jensen a half a hug. His skin does in fact smell when you're smushed up against it, lightly scented with patchouli or some other incense shit Jensen hasn't smelled since college. His hair is slipping from its ponytail. What the fuck did Jensen just do?
Misha says, "Perfect. We were hoping you'd meet Jared." Seriously? Is this the person Vicky meant? How completely weird Jensen's neighbours are.
It takes a few minutes to establish next moves, but pretty soon Jensen finds himself leading Jared across the yard and to his own front door. The house looks strange, like it did when Jensen first moved in. He finds himself fumbling to describe where stuff is. It's not like he planned on getting a roommate, so he's a little vague about… well, everything, but Jared seems cool. Really cool. When Jensen says, "There's not a whole lot of storage in the spare room, I guess I should buy-" Jared hefts his bag, and says, "This is all my stuff, Jen."
Jensen is never called Jen. Except in funny jokey conversations when meeting people named Genevieve. He nearly objects, but what does it really matter? He's talking to a guy whose entire possessions fit into a backpack. Jared can call him Jen if he wants.
"Okay, I didn't know- You could have more stuff in your car."
Jared laughs. "No car. Just my bike."
Jensen almost chokes. Seriously? What is this guy? It must show on his face, because Jared says, "I travel a lot. Don't like to be tied down. Or… well, I didn't." Something happened, Jensen thinks. He recognises the tightness in Jared's face; it's a look Jensen's pretty sure he gets when someone mentions Indigo.
"Okay," he says, casting around for something to break the moment. "Uh. You want a beer? Oh, and you should meet Prim."
"Prim?"
"The cat. Misha named her Primrose," says Jensen, gloomily. But he watches as Jared's face loses that tightness in a gust of laughter, and he feels pretty good about that.
There's beer in the refrigerator, as Jensen thought, and ingredients for something, though he's not quite sure what. He peers at a clutch of tomatoes and onions, and wonders whether checking cookbooks makes you look pathetic in front of new roommates. He could get takeout, but this cookery thing is new and oddly interesting.
He can feel Jared come up behind him and peer too. "I can cook," Jared says. "I mean, if you'd like? I don't have any food with me, so… I can cook for you. For, uh, us? To say thank you?"
"That would be nice," says Jensen, and oddly, he means it.
Jared is quick in the kitchen, relaxed and happy, and cleans as he goes. The dish is tasty, a little odd, Jared apologetic that Jensen's kitchen setup doesn't fit the Balinese mix of spices he would ideally have used, so it's all approximated.
"It's cool. I don't cook so much," says Jensen. Watching Jared, he's relaxed too. More relaxed than is maybe sensible having given a random stranger total access to his home. "I never really cooked, till a few weeks ago? Learning- It's not as easy as it looks on TV?"
Jared shrugs. "You can make food complicated. But it's pretty easy to pick up from people. I can teach you, if you want?"
There's a little pause. Jared blushes, hurries into speech. "I mean, I know you must be busy, with Ackles, and whatever, but I picked up a lot of cooking on my travels. When you've seen lots of different cultures and their food, I guess you get to spot what the common factors are?"
It makes sense. It takes the conversation somewhere beyond Ackles and Jensen's big important meaningless job. "Really?" he says, and goes with it. "Where'd you travel? Tell me about the food."
Somehow, one beer becomes three, and they've talked for five hours, with food and nothing else to sustain them apart from an occasional passing cat. Jared has travelled, Jensen has worked. Jared has no possessions, Jensen could have anything. They shouldn't get each other. They kind of do.
There are still moments of awkward. But they learn the boundaries. The non-talkable moments: Indigo, Ackles, and Jared's sore points are Calcutta and Kyoto, which probably aren't the same trip. But then, Indigo and Ackles cover Jensen's entire life since he quit college, so Jared's probably making the same mental calculations. Respectful of privacy, they leave it be.
And then Jared spots the guitar. "Awesome! You play, I knew it," he says. "Guys I like always play."
"I don't," says Jensen. "Not now." And that's more than he ever usually lets slip.
"Okay," is all Jared says in response. "But I love music. It's my life, when it can be. You mind if I play? I don't have a guitar just now."
Jensen so wants to say no, but honestly, what's the point of owning an instrument you don't use, and then forbidding anyone else from making her sing? It's not a sacred relic. "Uh, if you want? It'll be in bad shape. Needs retuning, I'm sure."
"Perfect," says Jared. "I love to make things sing again." It's such an eerie echo of Jensen's thoughts that it breaks the easy mood of the evening. He flees, pleading tiredness and the late hour, and leaves Jared alone in an empty house.
Jensen Ackles, probably among Florida's hundred richest men, just leaves a stranger in his home. And, what's more, he sleeps well on it.
If anyone had asked Jensen Ackles how he'd enjoy sharing his home with a cat and a drifter, he would have said, you know, not.
So it's strange how Jared worms his way into Jensen's life. There's cooking, which becomes a regular thing. Cookery lessons, even, casually offered and occasionally accepted, in a way that demands nothing lasting from either of them. There's slowly cleaning up and refurbishing the guitar, and playing it, now and again, on the back porch when Jensen's home. There's taking Prim to the vet and cleaning Jensen's car, and making friends with the yard guy and the pool guy (Tony and Joaquin, turns out - Jensen never knew the services send the same guys every week), and watching the Collins house when Misha and Vicky are away. He meets the fishing boats too, not just the tourist cruisers. Prim is in cat heaven. And within weeks, Jared's a part of the neighbourhood in a way Jensen has never been before.
It's an odd sensation. Jensen's a little jealous, but he's mostly confused. How is this helping Jared's life? He seems so aimless, and yet he's pretty happy.
The money situation is the oddest of all. Jared doesn't have much cash, doesn't have a job, as such. But he bikes around, finds little things to do, money here, pretty much barter there, and though Jensen never bothered to make an agreement about rent (which is stupid and irresolute, and extremely not like Jensen Ackles), Jared undoubtedly pays his way.
He uses the guitar, with Jensen's permission, to make money. He plays at a bunch of beachfront bars. Even busks in the street, sometimes. It doesn't seem to be part of a big plan. It confuses Jensen; like Jared's just content to live this way, presumably until he finds another way.
But it's good for Jensen to have Jared about. He's changing, and it's in good ways. In no particular order, he spends less time at the office. He exercises more outside (they will never speak again of the rollerblading, but beach running turns out to be more fun with a friend). He parties less and drinks less, and screws no stupid vain guys with brief and forgettable regrets. He gets better with cats and cookbooks and neighbourly conversation. He comes up with opinions on the front yard, which Jared translates into instructions to Tony which result in a space Jensen is actually glad to come home to.
Jensen buys Misha and Vicky expensive wine. He doesn't explain, but they get it.
Jensen's almost sure Jared's gay. He's almost certain Jared's aware of Jensen's sexuality too. But, three months into a lackadaisical roommate situation, nobody's having sex, or at least nobody's talking about it.
In Jensen's head, there's a lot of potential here. In Jensen's head, Jared's hands on the guitar become Jared's hands on Jensen's body, but he doesn't see how to make that transition, without jeopardising this… whatever the amorphous thing they have is. Sexless cohabitation, yes, but it's sort of dramatically fixing the Bork of Jensen, and temporarily Jensen is prepared to jerk off (very quietly) instead of achieving a string of meaningless physical hook-ups while he tries to work out exactly what Jared is, or could be.
In the end, it's the weather that brings things to a head, unusually helpful. Jensen wonders, after, whether Misha really is some kind of witch as he once claimed. It's an awfully convenient storm. Jensen comes home one night in October, amid major storm warnings, and finds Jared anything but the laidback soul he's come to know.
"You're afraid of storms?" It seems all wrong. Jared is all about the zen, the acceptance. Also: Miami? Seriously?
Jared sighs, rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. All the places I love, all the beaches and the tropics. Storms everywhere. I've lived through a lot of storms. And a tsunami. It never gets easier."
"Well, that would be why we have protocols," says Jensen, who isn't specially freaked by medium-severe weather warnings with ample prep time. He wanders the house, preparing. The downstairs bathroom is his friend at times like this. He finds the cat, the candles, batteries, radio, food, litter tray and all. As much electronic gadgetry as he can bear, though the batteries won't all last. He propels Jared into the bathroom. Pauses, comes back for the guitar.
It'll pass the time.
Jensen's a gentleman, so he offers Jared the marginally more comfortable seat on the toilet, and takes the bath for himself. Prim curls up on her cushion under the sink. This bathroom really isn't large enough for three to ride out a true storm. Jensen needs to make better plans for next year.
Which is a ridiculous thought for his temporary roommate. He sits in silence while the wind rises outside, and his ass numbs on the bathtub floor. Jared is twitching with every small crash, even though he must know they're barely on the edge of the storm yet. Jensen watches till he can't stand it anymore.
"Man, get over here," he says, climbing out of the bath and taking a seat in the small, restricted space on the floor. Jared slides off the toilet seat, bonelessly collapsing near Jensen. Jensen tucks an arm around him. Not just because there's very little space to do anything else with his arm. They don't do this. And yet, today they do. "So, I'm guessing I should keep your mind off storms, yeah? What do you want to talk about?"
Jared's silent for a second, till Prim comes to join them. He ruffles her fur, absently. "Would you mind telling me about you?"
"Me?" Jensen's startled. Jared talks all the time, but he never pries. And Jensen doesn't chatter about his own business.
"Mmm," says Jared, moving closer. Jensen considers it something akin to a snuggle. But they aren't at snuggle stage. They aren't really even at touching stage, and yet… He leans in, in turn. "You go out, you come back, I have no idea what broking stocks means, or why you do it, so…"
"Okay." Jensen can talk about his current life. There's no trouble there. "I'm just the boss. The team do the tough stuff-" He talks on. He's boring himself, but Jared's relaxing into him, so that part is working.
Eventually, Jared speaks. "You- You really don't sound into this. Are you, secretly? Or-"
"Nope," Jensen says, cheerfully enough, he hopes. Not the first time he's been asked this, after all. "It's my daddy's firm. I came back when he retired. Got to have an Ackles at AE, Inc. Right?"
"Um, no?" Jared says, unexpectedly proving to be not only awake but listening. "I mean, seriously, what? This isn't the middle ages. Nobody makes you do what your daddy did. I mean, my dad's a teacher, and he's pleased Jeff's in insurance, but he'd never pressure either of us into a career."
"Is that why you don't, um, work?" Jensen can feel it's the wrong thing to say, but his mouth says it before he can stop the words coming.
But Jared doesn't get mad, just chuckles. "What? Nobody pressured me so I never got a career? Jen, all I ever wanted was to be happy."
"Are you?"
"Right now? Not in the storm, but living here, sure. It's great."
"And before that? Seemed like Jeff wasn't so impressed. Like you were in some trouble."
Jared sighs. He turns his face so Jensen can see. "Yeah. Some things went… not so well? A while back. I lost the drive. I used to travel with purpose, but lately it was just drifting. And I came home, but- Well, you saw at Misha's. Kind of a crappy day, then. Till you saved me." He smiles deep into Jensen's eyes, and it feels like the moment has arrived.
The electricity winks out. Jensen hopes his swearing sounds like mere generic irritation. Jared grows rigid. Jensen wonders just how scared Jared can get in a storm and decides he doesn't want to find out. He lights candles, and grabs Prim to give Jared something to pet. The cat, usually unimpressed with human interaction, seems to know this time she's needed, and sits quietly beside Jared. Jared looks good by candlelight. It catches the wild edges of his hair, points up the perfect bones and the bronze skin. Jensen sort of wants to just watch, but now is definitely not the time for perving. A low crash outside, and Jared twitches, badly.
"You want to hear about Indigo?" asks Jensen. He hates to talk about it. "I hate to talk about it." Why not be honest? "But if we're here awhile, you might as well hear how my life went to shit."
Jared turns his head, just a fraction, but enough to show surprise, awareness, and general interaction. Jensen takes it as a good sign.
"Yeah. I didn't want to sell Indigo, you see. But Dad was retiring, and he was always talking about me taking over at Ackles. And then I tried to talk to Jeff- My Jeff, Jeffrey Dean Morgan-"
"I know," says Jared. Not surprisingly. Jeff's not camera shy. And Indigo's a big story.
"-Uh… Well. He didn't like it that I wanted to leave. Or, you know, thought I should leave. We built that company together. I dropped out of college to be with Jeff. Uh, work with him-" Because officially their relationship was business, though many people have guessed the reality, over the years and Jared's eyeroll suggests he is one of them. "-And we built Indigo, and it was ours, equal shares. So he-" Jensen dries up.
You don't fucking get to walk out on me Jen. You don't walk out and stay part of this. I can't fuckin' believe you. You want to give up Silicon Valley and the best thing you'll ever do to sit in Florida moving numbers around for your daddy? Shit, Jen, you'll go bankrupt in a month.
"He didn't take it well." Jensen's mouth is dry enough that comes out croaky, and Jared nudges Prim till the cat comes to sit by Jensen a while. Storm sounds are everywhere, but it's enough for Jared to pay attention to Jensen. "I never meant to cut myself off this way. I love to code, it's what I'm made for. Indigo was… hell, it really was my dream, Jared. But we fought our way to where I couldn't stay, and after that… I guess I didn't know how to get back. Well. I play about weekends, sometimes, but I can't build anything that matters on my own. Don't want to, even. I always wanted to be part of something bigger. And then, Ackles needs managing."
He didn't bankrupt the company, obviously. But he's still not a whole lot more than a figurehead, in a competent-manager way. His father's still disappointed, and Jensen knows damn well that the company isn't what it was.
"I said it'd be great, moving here, heading up Ackles. I had no life, with Indigo. It swallowed me whole, from when I was nineteen, and coming here- It was like I raised my head from the longest homework ever, and it seemed like I could live a different life. I told myself it was what I wanted, a real job with prestige, the beach and my dad's world, rich people and endlessly partying, you know?" He pauses. "God, I told myself the most ridiculous shit, Jared. Like, if I wasn't able to stay with Indigo, I was going to be a whole other person. But I'm not. I'm still me, turns out."
There's another pause. Jensen can't really bear to say the rest. He ruffles the fur between Prim's ears, making her twitch away in irritation. "I borked my whole life, Jared. I don't even know what I'm doing here. It's like five years passed and I was sleepwalking."
"But you're not anymore," says Jared, and it's perfect this time. There's candlelight and they are warm and close, and Jensen turns his head and kisses Jared.
Three months of not kissing turns out to encompass a not insignificant amount of frustration on both sides, so kissing escalates pretty fast from open, soft, exploratory to devouring, demanding, want you now which, in the circumstances, isn't quite so perfect. The cat gets out of their way pretty quick, but toilet bowl and bath, not to mention unyielding bathroom floor all play a part in distracting Jensen from how much he wants this unknown, perfect man.
There's a moment when Jared jars something painfully as Jensen's lying on top of him and Jensen feels the whole moment slip away. And yet, here they are, and they have time - lots of time - in this quiet space together. He sighs, and sits up. Of course, that seats him squarely across Jared's dick, and they both take a moment with that.
"So, uh," says Jared. "I like you."
Jensen laughs. "Me too. Oh, me too. I like you a lot. I think I'd like you naked a whole lot more, but the cat's looking at me weird and it kind of puts me off my stroke."
"Prim?" Jared turns his head, seeking. "Where is she?"
"In the bath." Which makes Jared chuckle, and he sits up to see, and that reseats Jensen on Jared's dick and does good things to Jensen's own dick, now rubbed between them.
"Ohhhh, yeah, I have to do something with this," says Jared, sliding a hand between them and palming Jensen's grateful dick. "But come back down here where the cat can't see."
So in the end it's fumbling and quick and hands in each other's pants on the bathroom floor, which aside from the ready availability of Kleenex has nothing to recommend it, but as Jensen bites into Jared's shoulder and feels him judder and come against Jensen's belly, he really doesn't care so much.
There isn't space for them to lie together comfortably on the floor together, so they wriggle into a huddle of badly-fastened clothing, the blankets Jensen brought in, and eventually Prim, who gives them a look that reminds Jensen a lot of his second grade teacher. He laughs into Jared's neck, and something outside goes crash again, and Jared does twitch, but not so badly.
Jensen checks the radio, and it's pretty good news. Storm is fading, worst will be done in a couple hours. Stay under cover a while, is the advice, so they break out the apples and chips.
Jared's not actually relaxed, so Jensen nuzzles into his neck a little and says, "Your turn." Jared becomes less relaxed, which is bad. "Come on, babe," says Jensen, who never calls anyone babe but is drunk on confession and sex and touch. "Whatever you want, just tell me something."
Jared sighs. "I travelled so far I lost my way." It's all he says, and Jensen lets it lie. It feels too big, too complete, to pry just now. In fact, even after all the stuff he's spilled about money, Ackles, Indigo, Jensen feels like nothing he said matched that simplicity. He wants to reciprocate, naked truth to match their situation.
He fetches the guitar from under the sink. Holds it, as he used to hold. "I lost my music," he says. Then feels like a fool. "I mean… I was never good. But I loved to play. I noodled about with my guitar, hours at a time. Drive Jeff crazy, but he couldn't stand it when I stopped. I'd code in my head and write tunes while I coded and- You know they say math and music are connected? I almost believe it. Patterns, for me, patterns that resolve and make sense and- Well. I don't seem to be able to do that now."
Jared says, "Play something for me."
Jensen plays, and it's nice. The storm sounds are really fading now. But it's nice like a school performance can be. He plays every note, and none of it sings.
Jared nods. "Yeah. You need a better life, Jen. You know that. Because it sure as hell shows when you play."
It sounds so simple, said that way. "How? What?" As if Jared has all the answers for Jensen's life. As if Jensen would want to live the way Jared does.
Jared reaches for the guitar, and starts to play. He's technically better than Jensen, no surprise, but it also feels real. Sad, because Jensen knows that under his pleasantness Jared is sad. But real.
Jensen closes his eyes, and Jared plays, and outside the storm quiets down.
Leaving the bathroom feels, for a terrifying second, like leaving an enchantment. Jensen almost wants to stay. But Jared's behind him and the cat is ahead, and they all make a break for real food and checking on the outside situation and, unromantically, the litter tray or equivalent.
Jensen sits in the kitchen waiting for coffee to brew, feeling like he needs to sleep for a year, but also like he wants Jared lying beside him when that happens. He calls the office. Rosario answers. "All okay here, boss. Downtown's pretty much open too. When will you get in?"
Jensen considers his calendar, which contains nothing other than routine. He looks up and considers Jared, now hovering in the kitchen doorway, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a slightly anxious expression. Catching Jensen's eye, he smiles.
"I'm not coming in today, Rosa. Didn't get any sleep, and there's nothing urgent. Reschedule anything that needs it, please?" Jensen hears himself saying the words, watches Jared's smile widen, and feels somewhere deep internally relax. He's been trying to be the perfect corporate cipher by day, the perfect playboy by night. He's been living that way for five years.
He really doesn't have to be perfect.
Jensen pours coffee for them both, and drinks, ignoring the scalding heat. He needs caffeine.
Jared tips milk and sugar into his coffee till it cries out for mercy, and sips, slowly.
"So, you want to go to bed?" Jensen finally asks. The sun is shining clear and beautiful outside. The air is washed clean. The beach looks perfect, ignoring some blown debris here and there. But-
Jared half-tackles him. "God, yes please."
It isn't a day for the beach.
Both tired, both a little sore from many hours in a small space without comforts. But hell, it's more important to touch. They stagger, kissing, from kitchen to Jensen's bedroom, bright with sunshine. Crashing onto the bed, they laugh at their own urgency, and redouble it. Jensen ends ceding all control, rolled up and spread wide for Jared, and begging hard for satisfaction which comes, solid and deep, as Jared slams their bodies together.
They sleep, eventually, cramped and sticky and relaxed beyond caring.
When Jensen wakes, the sun has moved around and the bedroom is quiet. Jared's still sprawled, dead to the world. He checks on Prim, who ignores him in favour of chasing sunbeams, and then fetches the guitar.
He's sitting on the floor, back against the couch, guitar on his knee when Jared comes to find him. Jensen's picking out notes. It's not quite a tune, and it's not quite right yet, but-
"Yes," says Jared. "That's more like you." So he gets it.
Jensen doesn't quite stop playing, can't bring himself to stop, really. He looks up, though, and smiles at Jared with a world of happiness in his eyes.
"I- I think I'm going to resign," he says.
"From Ackles? Great."
Jensen nods. "Yep. I've done okay, you know. Better than you would have bet on when I came back here. But I don't care about the business, and I'm treading water. And it's been killing me. I don't need more money. I can…"
He pauses, and plays.
Jared says, "You can work it out. You don't have to know right now what the next thing is."
Jensen says, "We could travel. If you wanted." He's not sure if it's the right thing to offer. There's Primrose, and Jared may be burned out on travel, whatever his past pain holds. And, oh yeah, they haven't had a conversation about doing anything together after today. Jared's face makes an uncertain squirm, but Jensen can't tell if it's the travel or the sudden tacit relationship offer that’s doing it.
But Jensen's very clear about the things he does want. He wants this place, with Prim and Jared. He wants to play. He wants to dip a toe back into the world he turned his back on. Not Indigo, that's past. But five years refusing to code, when that's what he used to love? That was stupid, self-defeating shit. He's past that.
He says some of this. Stumbling, working it out as he goes. Messy and unsure. Jared listens. Says, "Yeah. That sounds good." But he says it sure and happy and like there's no other way he wants things to be. And sits beside Jensen, while he plays on.
It's enough for today. Jensen's just learned that life doesn't always work out. He doesn't need all his future laid out neatly in lines. Just enough to know that there's a future, and a life, and there will be Jared with him while he tries to work it out.
His listens to himself playing, messy and unsure like his words, but full of potential. He hears the rhythm of music and the sound of freedom, and knows it's Jared that brought that back.
Maybe it's a day for the beach after all.
***
Art Title: A Secret Among Soulmates
Prompt Number: 2002
Artist: evian_fork
Fic Title: A Day For The Beach
Author: brutti_ma_buoni
Fandom/Genre: domestic, emotional journey
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 6500
Warnings: past Jensen/JDM
Summary: Jensen's been closed off for a long time. He doesn't meet people, he doesn't have friends, he doesn't have music. He doesn't need any of that. But some determined neighbours start to change the way he feels, by means of cunning and cats. And then he meets Jared, drifting through life in a way Jensen can't imagine. Can their very different lives come together?
Art Link(s): LJ
Jensen doesn’t really have friends. More pleasant contacts. And rivals. And people-to-nod to. And people-who-want-stuff.
There are a lot of people-who-want stuff. It gets old.
It's therefore odd and alarming that the new neighbours don't get this. Don't get Jensen. They came around with wine on the day after moving in. They stayed to drink wine. Then Misha brought a casserole the next day, which Jensen's pretty sure is the wrong way around with newly-moved-in neighbours. But Victoria seems preternaturally organised, and Misha is definitely not a guy to let social convention get in his way, so Jensen guesses this has not been a big topic of discussion in the Collins household. They saw the condition of his pristine, antiseptically-perfect kitchen, in which nothing more complex than coffee has ever been created. They watched him fumble for something (anything) to feed them. (Peanuts. Olives. Crackers. Nope.)
(He did find some coffee creamer, which was unexpected. Presumably his cleaner brought it for herself. He made a mental note to tell her she should buy milk and use the refrigerator. He hasn't done it yet.)
So, yeah. The Collinses are not Jensen's usual run of neighbours. It's not even really a surprise when Misha knocks on the door a few weeks after and says, "There's someone I want you to meet." Misha has invited Jensen - so far - to a total of four dinners, barbecues or potlucks. He has introduced Jensen to (approximately, but in no way exaggeratedly) a hundred people Jensen has apparently lived near for the past five years. Misha met most of them in the past month. They are all his friends now.
Even Jensen may be Misha's friend. He's testing the idea. It's odd. Jensen moved to Miami intending to live the life that Misha's living. He had overlooked the way he had no idea how to socialise after seven years of coding twenty hours a day, every day. It was a pretty fundamental error. The kind that borks code beyond salvage. Jensen's life has remained mostly borked ever since, at least under the surface where nobody tends to look. Especially not people-who-want-stuff.
It is a surprise that the 'someone' is a cat. "Uh, you got a pet?" Jensen is mostly surprised because Misha and Vicky both talk about how they travel a lot, and that seems kind of irresponsible.
"No, Jensen. You got a pet. Meet Primrose."
Jensen looks at Misha. "No."
"She loves you," says Misha, putting the cat (Primrose? Really?) down. It sits on Jensen's stripped wooden flooring, and ignores them both. "You're totally compatible."
"Misha-" Jensen pauses. Angry would be wrong. Misha is not an employee. He's an inexplicably confusing neighbour slash friend query. The cat continues to ignore the situation. It stretches out on the floor, opening up a vulnerable underbelly. Stupid cat. Jensen ignores it, in retaliation. "Misha, I don't like cats."
"Sure you do."
"I don't like cats. And I don't want a cat."
"Jensen, buddy," Misha puts a hand on Jensen's arm. Jensen twitches. He doesn't get touched a lot. Especially not like this, by a friend. "I have never met someone who needs a cat more than you." He pauses, then adds with no change of tone, "We would have offered you a threesome instead, but I don't think Vicky's your type. Besides, we're going away for a little. You need some company."
Jensen is sweating. His central air is working well. It's not even a very warm day, though Misha has been leaning on his doorframe and letting in the real weather all this time. Misha is the most confusing man Jensen knows. But he doesn't want to get into some big fight with the closest thing he currently has to a friend.
(Threesome? What?)
He looks down at the cat. It stops exposing its belly, and rolls over. Looks consideringly around the house, plotting its next strategic move, and evidently decides Jensen is the boss. It starts to wind ingratiatingly around his ankles.
Misha says, "I knew you guys would get along." And leaves.
After the door closes, Jensen spots a book on the hall table. So, You Got Yourself A Cat! it says. He considers hurling it in the trash. Locking out the cat. Going back to a sensible life.
The cat purrs at his feet. It's warm, but Jensen isn't sweating now. He sits down on the floor with the cat. He's never done that before. It's illogical. This is a nice house, with good furniture. He paid a very high end designer to furnish it to meet his needs, and he's happy with the result. Why would he sit on the floor?
He's sitting in a sunbeam, on a wood floor. A cat is in his arms, on his lap. Jensen just… feels for a while. It's pretty nice.
All the scene needs is some music. But when he thinks that, Jensen remembers how his life here doesn't really work. He lets go of the cat. A cloud seems to pass over the sun. Sitting on the floor is stupid.
He stands up, and reaches for the book. Apparently, he has a cat. There's bound to be something he needs to know about food or poop. Thanks for this, Misha.
Misha and Vicky are away for two months. Two damn months.
For those nine long weeks, Jensen works, if you can call it work. He attends the usual functions, drinks the stupidly modish cocktails. Meets and talks to people who want things from him. Makes new contacts, aka people-who-want-stuff, or in some cases people-Jensen-can-sell-stuff-to. Makes no friends. Same old.
At home, though, he clears litter trays. He sits on the floor with the cat, sometimes. He buys cat toys, because it has to be dull for the cat when he's out, and also she has started to play with his shoes, which are expensive. He buys cat food, and then it seems stupid not to also buy people food, so he learns where the supermarkets are and what's good and easy to make. He buys a cookbook and burns stuff.
He even talks to one of the parties of sunbaked tourist fishermen at the Beach. He says, "I have a cat," and they give him offcuts with a smile. The cat appreciates this gesture with an amount of love Jensen considers kind of whorish. But, you know, it works. So he returns to the Beach, sometimes. Not too often. Don't want to spoil the cat.
He replaces his dark couch covers, because the cat is pale-bellied and looks disapprovingly at the seat where she sheds. His house looks less perfect. He takes the guitar out of the spare room. He doesn't play it.
He chases a lot of other neighbourhood cats away at a certain point, and makes veterinary appointments so that doesn't happen again. Although he also feeds them some of the leftover fish scraps, which is illogical.
He becomes resigned to the cat being called Primrose. Well, Prim. Kinda suits her.
It feels, just a little, as though Jensen's life is unborking. Which is more than a little sad, when it’s just a cat that made the difference. But less borked is good. Or, you know, better.
When Misha and Vicky come back to Miami, Jensen is truly pleased. Vicky comes by to apologise for Gift of Unwanted Cat, but she stops when she sees how Prim sits by Jensen's feet. Glaring, he thinks. Prim signals 'Do Not Want' as Vicky offers shelters and friends who take cats. Jensen says, "No, thank you. I'm used to having Prim here."
"Cool," she recovers quickly. "Come over Saturday, around three? We're having drinks by the pool. There's someone we'd like you to meet."
Jensen blinks. Prim is okay. He really doesn't want more cats.
"This one's human," says Vicky.
The Collins pool is purple. It's all wrong. Jensen knows, obviously, that water doesn't have to sit in blue tile. And yet. He stares.
A girl is standing at his elbow, he realises after a little. "Um, hello?"
"Hi!" she says. A big smile from a small woman. She shakes hands, which is sort of odd, and un-Miami, and confuses Jensen enough that he forgets to feel self-conscious. Misha always introduces him as just the neighbour, but people usually know who Jensen is, and it freezes him up. This woman, maybe, not.
"I'm Gen. Genevieve," she says. "I work with Vicky. Kind of, anyway. We wandering artists don’t label easy. And you live in this neighbourhood too, I hear?"
She's easy to talk with. They have a small smile over the Gen/Jen thing. They get second drinks. They discuss purple pools and cats and holiday fishing and art. They don't talk about Indigo. They don't even talk about Ackles Investments.
The number of people Jensen has met since 2004 that haven't mentioned either is so small it may actually just be Gen and Vicky. Misha mentioned both, in his own way ("…but stockbroking never really seemed like a real job to me, and you sold Indigo way back, so we're not going to talk about that…"). It's strange, but it's good.
Jensen realises after a while that he's been at the party for hours, and nobody has wanted stuff from him at all. He's talked mostly with Gen, but now they're in a bigger group of her friends, and it's not awkward. He likes Katie. Jeff seems cool, too, though even the name gives Jensen a tiny pang for Indigo days. (How long since he talked with Jeffrey Dean? More than a year, even just to exchange news, stiff and formal and self-protecting. Too long.)
Then there's a little ripple in the group, and Jeff sighs. "Oh. The kid bro came after all." He sounds… off? For the first time, Jensen doesn't feel at ease with Jeff. Jensen doesn't have siblings, but he always thought he'd like to. Not so much if they talked about him this way though.
Jensen follows Jeff's eyeline, and Katie's smiling wave in the same direction. "Hey, Jared! Over here!" She looks totally different - happy and lit up, like Jared is a great asset to a party. Odd. Maybe it's some family thing with Jeff, some kid rivalry. Jensen isn't so great at fathoming the way people interact sometimes. He decides to decide about Jared when he's actually met Jared.
Let's say first impressions are mixed. Jared is gorgeous, built and tanned, pointy chin, high cheekbones and dark, friendly eyes. But he's kind of scruffy, kind of ungroomed. His hair's really long, and not styled, just scrunched back off his face. He looks as though he might smell a little bad, though he doesn't in fact when Jensen is within reasonable smell range. His clothes are also weirdly mixed; colourful fabrics that don’t look American, and old, old denim that appears like he's owned it for a decade.
He looks, really, like some of the guys they took on at Indigo after the big sales boom. Great guys, great coders, but kind of fried by years of drifting and travel. He is also carrying a big bag. Bigger than a sports bag. More for travelling. Jensen eyes it, silently. Maybe he's just come from the airport. That would make sense.
Jeff walks away pretty soon after Jared joins them, but Jared sticks with the group around Jensen. He's relaxed, casual, knows some of them pretty well, it seems like. He fits. He's definitely not fresh off a plane. Jensen goes back to enjoying the party, and stops wondering about Jared.
It's probably a full hour later, when Misha is wandering around supplying the groups with olives and popcorn for some reason, that Jeff comes back to the group. He isn't the same relaxed guy of earlier. Ignores the rest of the group, looks at the big bag, and says to Jared, "You lost your apartment again, didn't you?"
Jared says, "It didn't work out." He sounds calm, unworried. But Jensen happens to be leaning on the seatback behind Jared, and he can see how his whole spine tenses up as he talks on. "I was wondering, could I maybe crash with-"
"No," Jeff replies, cutting him off. "We said never again. You're not-" He pauses, looks uncomfortably around at the group, who have all fallen silent. "I told you the last time, I can't have you in my house. You're- You don't fit, Jare. The kids, Ellie, they don't- It's not good for us to have you around."
Jared's spine sags, but his voice holds up, still just as calm. "Sorry, Jeff. I respect what you said. I wouldn't ask if-"
Misha shoves a bucket of popcorn between the two brothers, much as a man might step between two swords to stop a duel. Jensen wishes he'd had the guts to do it first. "Hey, Vicky and I have space, Jared. You could stay here awhile, till you find alternative accommodation. We'd like to have you."
Which is probably true, and Jared is in mid thank-you which clashes with Jeff's snort of, "Yeah, till he finds another place. Dream on."
But then Jensen hears himself say, "Hey, my place next door is bigger, and I'm all alone. I was thinking of getting a roommate. If you don't mind cats, you could see if it suits you."
Something very strange has happened to Jensen. He doesn't do impulsive shit. He doesn't interact with people he doesn't know. He doesn't interfere in family stuff or stand up for underdogs, or anything difficult or inconvenient. And he really, really doesn't want a roommate. It's something about Jared's brave face and tattle-telling spine that's making him step up. He's not sure he likes how that feels.
The group has fallen silent, and still. Jared kind of corkscrews his face up to look at Jensen. "Seriously? Because that would be so awesome. Thanks man." He stands up, and reaches over the seatback to give Jensen a half a hug. His skin does in fact smell when you're smushed up against it, lightly scented with patchouli or some other incense shit Jensen hasn't smelled since college. His hair is slipping from its ponytail. What the fuck did Jensen just do?
Misha says, "Perfect. We were hoping you'd meet Jared." Seriously? Is this the person Vicky meant? How completely weird Jensen's neighbours are.
It takes a few minutes to establish next moves, but pretty soon Jensen finds himself leading Jared across the yard and to his own front door. The house looks strange, like it did when Jensen first moved in. He finds himself fumbling to describe where stuff is. It's not like he planned on getting a roommate, so he's a little vague about… well, everything, but Jared seems cool. Really cool. When Jensen says, "There's not a whole lot of storage in the spare room, I guess I should buy-" Jared hefts his bag, and says, "This is all my stuff, Jen."
Jensen is never called Jen. Except in funny jokey conversations when meeting people named Genevieve. He nearly objects, but what does it really matter? He's talking to a guy whose entire possessions fit into a backpack. Jared can call him Jen if he wants.
"Okay, I didn't know- You could have more stuff in your car."
Jared laughs. "No car. Just my bike."
Jensen almost chokes. Seriously? What is this guy? It must show on his face, because Jared says, "I travel a lot. Don't like to be tied down. Or… well, I didn't." Something happened, Jensen thinks. He recognises the tightness in Jared's face; it's a look Jensen's pretty sure he gets when someone mentions Indigo.
"Okay," he says, casting around for something to break the moment. "Uh. You want a beer? Oh, and you should meet Prim."
"Prim?"
"The cat. Misha named her Primrose," says Jensen, gloomily. But he watches as Jared's face loses that tightness in a gust of laughter, and he feels pretty good about that.
There's beer in the refrigerator, as Jensen thought, and ingredients for something, though he's not quite sure what. He peers at a clutch of tomatoes and onions, and wonders whether checking cookbooks makes you look pathetic in front of new roommates. He could get takeout, but this cookery thing is new and oddly interesting.
He can feel Jared come up behind him and peer too. "I can cook," Jared says. "I mean, if you'd like? I don't have any food with me, so… I can cook for you. For, uh, us? To say thank you?"
"That would be nice," says Jensen, and oddly, he means it.
Jared is quick in the kitchen, relaxed and happy, and cleans as he goes. The dish is tasty, a little odd, Jared apologetic that Jensen's kitchen setup doesn't fit the Balinese mix of spices he would ideally have used, so it's all approximated.
"It's cool. I don't cook so much," says Jensen. Watching Jared, he's relaxed too. More relaxed than is maybe sensible having given a random stranger total access to his home. "I never really cooked, till a few weeks ago? Learning- It's not as easy as it looks on TV?"
Jared shrugs. "You can make food complicated. But it's pretty easy to pick up from people. I can teach you, if you want?"
There's a little pause. Jared blushes, hurries into speech. "I mean, I know you must be busy, with Ackles, and whatever, but I picked up a lot of cooking on my travels. When you've seen lots of different cultures and their food, I guess you get to spot what the common factors are?"
It makes sense. It takes the conversation somewhere beyond Ackles and Jensen's big important meaningless job. "Really?" he says, and goes with it. "Where'd you travel? Tell me about the food."
Somehow, one beer becomes three, and they've talked for five hours, with food and nothing else to sustain them apart from an occasional passing cat. Jared has travelled, Jensen has worked. Jared has no possessions, Jensen could have anything. They shouldn't get each other. They kind of do.
There are still moments of awkward. But they learn the boundaries. The non-talkable moments: Indigo, Ackles, and Jared's sore points are Calcutta and Kyoto, which probably aren't the same trip. But then, Indigo and Ackles cover Jensen's entire life since he quit college, so Jared's probably making the same mental calculations. Respectful of privacy, they leave it be.
And then Jared spots the guitar. "Awesome! You play, I knew it," he says. "Guys I like always play."
"I don't," says Jensen. "Not now." And that's more than he ever usually lets slip.
"Okay," is all Jared says in response. "But I love music. It's my life, when it can be. You mind if I play? I don't have a guitar just now."
Jensen so wants to say no, but honestly, what's the point of owning an instrument you don't use, and then forbidding anyone else from making her sing? It's not a sacred relic. "Uh, if you want? It'll be in bad shape. Needs retuning, I'm sure."
"Perfect," says Jared. "I love to make things sing again." It's such an eerie echo of Jensen's thoughts that it breaks the easy mood of the evening. He flees, pleading tiredness and the late hour, and leaves Jared alone in an empty house.
Jensen Ackles, probably among Florida's hundred richest men, just leaves a stranger in his home. And, what's more, he sleeps well on it.
If anyone had asked Jensen Ackles how he'd enjoy sharing his home with a cat and a drifter, he would have said, you know, not.
So it's strange how Jared worms his way into Jensen's life. There's cooking, which becomes a regular thing. Cookery lessons, even, casually offered and occasionally accepted, in a way that demands nothing lasting from either of them. There's slowly cleaning up and refurbishing the guitar, and playing it, now and again, on the back porch when Jensen's home. There's taking Prim to the vet and cleaning Jensen's car, and making friends with the yard guy and the pool guy (Tony and Joaquin, turns out - Jensen never knew the services send the same guys every week), and watching the Collins house when Misha and Vicky are away. He meets the fishing boats too, not just the tourist cruisers. Prim is in cat heaven. And within weeks, Jared's a part of the neighbourhood in a way Jensen has never been before.
It's an odd sensation. Jensen's a little jealous, but he's mostly confused. How is this helping Jared's life? He seems so aimless, and yet he's pretty happy.
The money situation is the oddest of all. Jared doesn't have much cash, doesn't have a job, as such. But he bikes around, finds little things to do, money here, pretty much barter there, and though Jensen never bothered to make an agreement about rent (which is stupid and irresolute, and extremely not like Jensen Ackles), Jared undoubtedly pays his way.
He uses the guitar, with Jensen's permission, to make money. He plays at a bunch of beachfront bars. Even busks in the street, sometimes. It doesn't seem to be part of a big plan. It confuses Jensen; like Jared's just content to live this way, presumably until he finds another way.
But it's good for Jensen to have Jared about. He's changing, and it's in good ways. In no particular order, he spends less time at the office. He exercises more outside (they will never speak again of the rollerblading, but beach running turns out to be more fun with a friend). He parties less and drinks less, and screws no stupid vain guys with brief and forgettable regrets. He gets better with cats and cookbooks and neighbourly conversation. He comes up with opinions on the front yard, which Jared translates into instructions to Tony which result in a space Jensen is actually glad to come home to.
Jensen buys Misha and Vicky expensive wine. He doesn't explain, but they get it.
Jensen's almost sure Jared's gay. He's almost certain Jared's aware of Jensen's sexuality too. But, three months into a lackadaisical roommate situation, nobody's having sex, or at least nobody's talking about it.
In Jensen's head, there's a lot of potential here. In Jensen's head, Jared's hands on the guitar become Jared's hands on Jensen's body, but he doesn't see how to make that transition, without jeopardising this… whatever the amorphous thing they have is. Sexless cohabitation, yes, but it's sort of dramatically fixing the Bork of Jensen, and temporarily Jensen is prepared to jerk off (very quietly) instead of achieving a string of meaningless physical hook-ups while he tries to work out exactly what Jared is, or could be.
In the end, it's the weather that brings things to a head, unusually helpful. Jensen wonders, after, whether Misha really is some kind of witch as he once claimed. It's an awfully convenient storm. Jensen comes home one night in October, amid major storm warnings, and finds Jared anything but the laidback soul he's come to know.
"You're afraid of storms?" It seems all wrong. Jared is all about the zen, the acceptance. Also: Miami? Seriously?
Jared sighs, rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. All the places I love, all the beaches and the tropics. Storms everywhere. I've lived through a lot of storms. And a tsunami. It never gets easier."
"Well, that would be why we have protocols," says Jensen, who isn't specially freaked by medium-severe weather warnings with ample prep time. He wanders the house, preparing. The downstairs bathroom is his friend at times like this. He finds the cat, the candles, batteries, radio, food, litter tray and all. As much electronic gadgetry as he can bear, though the batteries won't all last. He propels Jared into the bathroom. Pauses, comes back for the guitar.
It'll pass the time.
Jensen's a gentleman, so he offers Jared the marginally more comfortable seat on the toilet, and takes the bath for himself. Prim curls up on her cushion under the sink. This bathroom really isn't large enough for three to ride out a true storm. Jensen needs to make better plans for next year.
Which is a ridiculous thought for his temporary roommate. He sits in silence while the wind rises outside, and his ass numbs on the bathtub floor. Jared is twitching with every small crash, even though he must know they're barely on the edge of the storm yet. Jensen watches till he can't stand it anymore.
"Man, get over here," he says, climbing out of the bath and taking a seat in the small, restricted space on the floor. Jared slides off the toilet seat, bonelessly collapsing near Jensen. Jensen tucks an arm around him. Not just because there's very little space to do anything else with his arm. They don't do this. And yet, today they do. "So, I'm guessing I should keep your mind off storms, yeah? What do you want to talk about?"
Jared's silent for a second, till Prim comes to join them. He ruffles her fur, absently. "Would you mind telling me about you?"
"Me?" Jensen's startled. Jared talks all the time, but he never pries. And Jensen doesn't chatter about his own business.
"Mmm," says Jared, moving closer. Jensen considers it something akin to a snuggle. But they aren't at snuggle stage. They aren't really even at touching stage, and yet… He leans in, in turn. "You go out, you come back, I have no idea what broking stocks means, or why you do it, so…"
"Okay." Jensen can talk about his current life. There's no trouble there. "I'm just the boss. The team do the tough stuff-" He talks on. He's boring himself, but Jared's relaxing into him, so that part is working.
Eventually, Jared speaks. "You- You really don't sound into this. Are you, secretly? Or-"
"Nope," Jensen says, cheerfully enough, he hopes. Not the first time he's been asked this, after all. "It's my daddy's firm. I came back when he retired. Got to have an Ackles at AE, Inc. Right?"
"Um, no?" Jared says, unexpectedly proving to be not only awake but listening. "I mean, seriously, what? This isn't the middle ages. Nobody makes you do what your daddy did. I mean, my dad's a teacher, and he's pleased Jeff's in insurance, but he'd never pressure either of us into a career."
"Is that why you don't, um, work?" Jensen can feel it's the wrong thing to say, but his mouth says it before he can stop the words coming.
But Jared doesn't get mad, just chuckles. "What? Nobody pressured me so I never got a career? Jen, all I ever wanted was to be happy."
"Are you?"
"Right now? Not in the storm, but living here, sure. It's great."
"And before that? Seemed like Jeff wasn't so impressed. Like you were in some trouble."
Jared sighs. He turns his face so Jensen can see. "Yeah. Some things went… not so well? A while back. I lost the drive. I used to travel with purpose, but lately it was just drifting. And I came home, but- Well, you saw at Misha's. Kind of a crappy day, then. Till you saved me." He smiles deep into Jensen's eyes, and it feels like the moment has arrived.
The electricity winks out. Jensen hopes his swearing sounds like mere generic irritation. Jared grows rigid. Jensen wonders just how scared Jared can get in a storm and decides he doesn't want to find out. He lights candles, and grabs Prim to give Jared something to pet. The cat, usually unimpressed with human interaction, seems to know this time she's needed, and sits quietly beside Jared. Jared looks good by candlelight. It catches the wild edges of his hair, points up the perfect bones and the bronze skin. Jensen sort of wants to just watch, but now is definitely not the time for perving. A low crash outside, and Jared twitches, badly.
"You want to hear about Indigo?" asks Jensen. He hates to talk about it. "I hate to talk about it." Why not be honest? "But if we're here awhile, you might as well hear how my life went to shit."
Jared turns his head, just a fraction, but enough to show surprise, awareness, and general interaction. Jensen takes it as a good sign.
"Yeah. I didn't want to sell Indigo, you see. But Dad was retiring, and he was always talking about me taking over at Ackles. And then I tried to talk to Jeff- My Jeff, Jeffrey Dean Morgan-"
"I know," says Jared. Not surprisingly. Jeff's not camera shy. And Indigo's a big story.
"-Uh… Well. He didn't like it that I wanted to leave. Or, you know, thought I should leave. We built that company together. I dropped out of college to be with Jeff. Uh, work with him-" Because officially their relationship was business, though many people have guessed the reality, over the years and Jared's eyeroll suggests he is one of them. "-And we built Indigo, and it was ours, equal shares. So he-" Jensen dries up.
You don't fucking get to walk out on me Jen. You don't walk out and stay part of this. I can't fuckin' believe you. You want to give up Silicon Valley and the best thing you'll ever do to sit in Florida moving numbers around for your daddy? Shit, Jen, you'll go bankrupt in a month.
"He didn't take it well." Jensen's mouth is dry enough that comes out croaky, and Jared nudges Prim till the cat comes to sit by Jensen a while. Storm sounds are everywhere, but it's enough for Jared to pay attention to Jensen. "I never meant to cut myself off this way. I love to code, it's what I'm made for. Indigo was… hell, it really was my dream, Jared. But we fought our way to where I couldn't stay, and after that… I guess I didn't know how to get back. Well. I play about weekends, sometimes, but I can't build anything that matters on my own. Don't want to, even. I always wanted to be part of something bigger. And then, Ackles needs managing."
He didn't bankrupt the company, obviously. But he's still not a whole lot more than a figurehead, in a competent-manager way. His father's still disappointed, and Jensen knows damn well that the company isn't what it was.
"I said it'd be great, moving here, heading up Ackles. I had no life, with Indigo. It swallowed me whole, from when I was nineteen, and coming here- It was like I raised my head from the longest homework ever, and it seemed like I could live a different life. I told myself it was what I wanted, a real job with prestige, the beach and my dad's world, rich people and endlessly partying, you know?" He pauses. "God, I told myself the most ridiculous shit, Jared. Like, if I wasn't able to stay with Indigo, I was going to be a whole other person. But I'm not. I'm still me, turns out."
There's another pause. Jensen can't really bear to say the rest. He ruffles the fur between Prim's ears, making her twitch away in irritation. "I borked my whole life, Jared. I don't even know what I'm doing here. It's like five years passed and I was sleepwalking."
"But you're not anymore," says Jared, and it's perfect this time. There's candlelight and they are warm and close, and Jensen turns his head and kisses Jared.
Three months of not kissing turns out to encompass a not insignificant amount of frustration on both sides, so kissing escalates pretty fast from open, soft, exploratory to devouring, demanding, want you now which, in the circumstances, isn't quite so perfect. The cat gets out of their way pretty quick, but toilet bowl and bath, not to mention unyielding bathroom floor all play a part in distracting Jensen from how much he wants this unknown, perfect man.
There's a moment when Jared jars something painfully as Jensen's lying on top of him and Jensen feels the whole moment slip away. And yet, here they are, and they have time - lots of time - in this quiet space together. He sighs, and sits up. Of course, that seats him squarely across Jared's dick, and they both take a moment with that.
"So, uh," says Jared. "I like you."
Jensen laughs. "Me too. Oh, me too. I like you a lot. I think I'd like you naked a whole lot more, but the cat's looking at me weird and it kind of puts me off my stroke."
"Prim?" Jared turns his head, seeking. "Where is she?"
"In the bath." Which makes Jared chuckle, and he sits up to see, and that reseats Jensen on Jared's dick and does good things to Jensen's own dick, now rubbed between them.
"Ohhhh, yeah, I have to do something with this," says Jared, sliding a hand between them and palming Jensen's grateful dick. "But come back down here where the cat can't see."
So in the end it's fumbling and quick and hands in each other's pants on the bathroom floor, which aside from the ready availability of Kleenex has nothing to recommend it, but as Jensen bites into Jared's shoulder and feels him judder and come against Jensen's belly, he really doesn't care so much.
There isn't space for them to lie together comfortably on the floor together, so they wriggle into a huddle of badly-fastened clothing, the blankets Jensen brought in, and eventually Prim, who gives them a look that reminds Jensen a lot of his second grade teacher. He laughs into Jared's neck, and something outside goes crash again, and Jared does twitch, but not so badly.
Jensen checks the radio, and it's pretty good news. Storm is fading, worst will be done in a couple hours. Stay under cover a while, is the advice, so they break out the apples and chips.
Jared's not actually relaxed, so Jensen nuzzles into his neck a little and says, "Your turn." Jared becomes less relaxed, which is bad. "Come on, babe," says Jensen, who never calls anyone babe but is drunk on confession and sex and touch. "Whatever you want, just tell me something."
Jared sighs. "I travelled so far I lost my way." It's all he says, and Jensen lets it lie. It feels too big, too complete, to pry just now. In fact, even after all the stuff he's spilled about money, Ackles, Indigo, Jensen feels like nothing he said matched that simplicity. He wants to reciprocate, naked truth to match their situation.
He fetches the guitar from under the sink. Holds it, as he used to hold. "I lost my music," he says. Then feels like a fool. "I mean… I was never good. But I loved to play. I noodled about with my guitar, hours at a time. Drive Jeff crazy, but he couldn't stand it when I stopped. I'd code in my head and write tunes while I coded and- You know they say math and music are connected? I almost believe it. Patterns, for me, patterns that resolve and make sense and- Well. I don't seem to be able to do that now."
Jared says, "Play something for me."
Jensen plays, and it's nice. The storm sounds are really fading now. But it's nice like a school performance can be. He plays every note, and none of it sings.
Jared nods. "Yeah. You need a better life, Jen. You know that. Because it sure as hell shows when you play."
It sounds so simple, said that way. "How? What?" As if Jared has all the answers for Jensen's life. As if Jensen would want to live the way Jared does.
Jared reaches for the guitar, and starts to play. He's technically better than Jensen, no surprise, but it also feels real. Sad, because Jensen knows that under his pleasantness Jared is sad. But real.
Jensen closes his eyes, and Jared plays, and outside the storm quiets down.
Leaving the bathroom feels, for a terrifying second, like leaving an enchantment. Jensen almost wants to stay. But Jared's behind him and the cat is ahead, and they all make a break for real food and checking on the outside situation and, unromantically, the litter tray or equivalent.
Jensen sits in the kitchen waiting for coffee to brew, feeling like he needs to sleep for a year, but also like he wants Jared lying beside him when that happens. He calls the office. Rosario answers. "All okay here, boss. Downtown's pretty much open too. When will you get in?"
Jensen considers his calendar, which contains nothing other than routine. He looks up and considers Jared, now hovering in the kitchen doorway, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a slightly anxious expression. Catching Jensen's eye, he smiles.
"I'm not coming in today, Rosa. Didn't get any sleep, and there's nothing urgent. Reschedule anything that needs it, please?" Jensen hears himself saying the words, watches Jared's smile widen, and feels somewhere deep internally relax. He's been trying to be the perfect corporate cipher by day, the perfect playboy by night. He's been living that way for five years.
He really doesn't have to be perfect.
Jensen pours coffee for them both, and drinks, ignoring the scalding heat. He needs caffeine.
Jared tips milk and sugar into his coffee till it cries out for mercy, and sips, slowly.
"So, you want to go to bed?" Jensen finally asks. The sun is shining clear and beautiful outside. The air is washed clean. The beach looks perfect, ignoring some blown debris here and there. But-
Jared half-tackles him. "God, yes please."
It isn't a day for the beach.
Both tired, both a little sore from many hours in a small space without comforts. But hell, it's more important to touch. They stagger, kissing, from kitchen to Jensen's bedroom, bright with sunshine. Crashing onto the bed, they laugh at their own urgency, and redouble it. Jensen ends ceding all control, rolled up and spread wide for Jared, and begging hard for satisfaction which comes, solid and deep, as Jared slams their bodies together.
They sleep, eventually, cramped and sticky and relaxed beyond caring.
When Jensen wakes, the sun has moved around and the bedroom is quiet. Jared's still sprawled, dead to the world. He checks on Prim, who ignores him in favour of chasing sunbeams, and then fetches the guitar.
He's sitting on the floor, back against the couch, guitar on his knee when Jared comes to find him. Jensen's picking out notes. It's not quite a tune, and it's not quite right yet, but-
"Yes," says Jared. "That's more like you." So he gets it.
Jensen doesn't quite stop playing, can't bring himself to stop, really. He looks up, though, and smiles at Jared with a world of happiness in his eyes.
"I- I think I'm going to resign," he says.
"From Ackles? Great."
Jensen nods. "Yep. I've done okay, you know. Better than you would have bet on when I came back here. But I don't care about the business, and I'm treading water. And it's been killing me. I don't need more money. I can…"
He pauses, and plays.
Jared says, "You can work it out. You don't have to know right now what the next thing is."
Jensen says, "We could travel. If you wanted." He's not sure if it's the right thing to offer. There's Primrose, and Jared may be burned out on travel, whatever his past pain holds. And, oh yeah, they haven't had a conversation about doing anything together after today. Jared's face makes an uncertain squirm, but Jensen can't tell if it's the travel or the sudden tacit relationship offer that’s doing it.
But Jensen's very clear about the things he does want. He wants this place, with Prim and Jared. He wants to play. He wants to dip a toe back into the world he turned his back on. Not Indigo, that's past. But five years refusing to code, when that's what he used to love? That was stupid, self-defeating shit. He's past that.
He says some of this. Stumbling, working it out as he goes. Messy and unsure. Jared listens. Says, "Yeah. That sounds good." But he says it sure and happy and like there's no other way he wants things to be. And sits beside Jensen, while he plays on.
It's enough for today. Jensen's just learned that life doesn't always work out. He doesn't need all his future laid out neatly in lines. Just enough to know that there's a future, and a life, and there will be Jared with him while he tries to work it out.
His listens to himself playing, messy and unsure like his words, but full of potential. He hears the rhythm of music and the sound of freedom, and knows it's Jared that brought that back.
Maybe it's a day for the beach after all.
***