Fic: 'A Lake Inside My Ocean' (Jared/Jensen; NC-17) 3/5
Masterpost
Part Three
"Taste and touch seem to be as sensitive as it is to humans, though personally, I think…" Jensen trails off. For the past half hour he's been poking at Jared's laptop, taking his first look at the internet. It's another fascinating device that he's happy to get his hands on, especially since it tells him just as much as Jared as anything else, given one look at Jared's browser history. His favorite foods, music, different humor sites. And different porn sites, by the looks of it.
Jensen is ready to list a few of said porn sites if it gets Jared to look up from his work, papers and books spread out on his desk.
Instead, he goes for a less embarrassing route, flicking a rolled up ball of paper at Jared's head. That gets him looking up, finally, better than the occasional grunt.
"Am I boring you?"
"No, you're not," Jared says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks tired, worn out. There's an urge in Jensen to reach out and touch him, see if he can try and alleviate some of the fatigue. "Sorry. I'm listening."
Jensen raises an eyebrow, moving the laptop aside to pick up the binder near Jared's arm, starting to flip through it. It's a collage of scribbles and photographs, a haphazard mix of enthusiasm towards cetacean life. Running his fingers over the taped up photos, Jensen can see pictures of himself, his old self, with notes written in the margins. Going back to the first few days when he arrived, mostly unconscious and out of his mind with pain.
Until Jared was there, always watching.
"This is impressive," Jensen says, looking up over to Jared, noticing his hopeful expression. "Is this the book you're writing?"
"It's nothing," Jared says, so quick it's as though it's automatic, dismissive of the whole thing. Jensen doesn't understand why; obviously Jared has put a lot of thought into it, as jumbled as it might seem.
"It doesn't look like nothing to me."
"Yeah, well, it's my hobby." Jared straightens, rubbing his eyes. "Man. I'm gonna go crazy staring at this stuff any more tonight."
Leaning forward, Jensen tries to make sense of all the paperwork laid out. "This stuff is?"
"There's been an unusual trend of dolphin sightings off the coast these past few months. Your rescue seems to be the start of the pattern," Jared explains, getting up from his chair. He perks up suddenly, nodding at Jensen. "Hey, you think you might want to come out to one of the rescues one of these days? I'm sure the others would love to have our very own 'dolphin whisperer' present."
It's a bit of information that has Jensen tense up, because he isn't quite sure why there'd be an increase in dolphins near shore.
But for one thing, he's pretty sure he's not going back to the ocean any time soon. It's confirmed by the "No!" he immediately blurts out. "I can't-I don't want to."
The strange look Jared gives Jensen is unavoidable, but he tries to change the subject, saying, "I'm not whispering. I'm talking to them. Asking them and… well, you've seen it."
"Oh yeah," Jared says. He grips the back of the chair edge, still energetic. "Look. How's about we grab some dinner and you can tell me all you want about..." Jared pauses.
"Taste and touch?" Jensen says, filling in the gap.
"Uh." Jared clears his throat, a slight reddening of his cheeks. "How about hearing and vision instead? The other senses."
"Sure," Jensen says. "Then we can get back to those later."
Jared doesn't answer this time; at least, not vocally, though the way he clears his throat indicates something, Jensen knows. He's becoming better at recognizing human tics each and every day.
*
For all the long hours in theater classes, lifeguard duty, and unpaid internships, Jared had never thought he would put them to use in a show that involved sequins and sea animals flying through the air.
In the past, he had expressed his wariness at the Viva! dolphin show they'd set up at San Antonio. Dancers and gymnasts were on hand to participate in the high flying acrobatics as dance music pounded through the chamber-like space, an echoing noise that only resulted in Jared getting a healthy dislike of uplifting Celine Dion music and canary yellow bodysuits.
Thankfully, at six foot four, Jared was a little too tall and too heavy to leap from swings fifty feet above the tanks.
The stripped-down dolphin show the park is currently doing, Blue Horizons, isn't as Vegas glam as Viva! had been. The Pacific Whitesided dolphins had been the stars of the Viva! show, the remaining Bottlenose dolphins sticking to the Dolphin Cove and feeding area.
This time, they get their spot in the limelight. There's still glitter and bodysuits-can't stop what works for the crowd-only now it's in shades of blues, greys, and whites, sweeping music echoing through the stadium. Oddly enough, it feels a little more in touch with the nature of the dolphins instead of the dazzling bold red hues of before.
Crazily, part of Jared wants to ask Jensen for his opinion on the different sets, but the headache involved might not be worth it.
Jared usually sticks to the simpler route, getting the dolphins to run through behaviors than emcee the shows. He'd get distracted running through scripted lines sometimes, preferring to have a one on one moment with the dolphin that he's training.
Sure, it's a one on one witnessed by hundreds of people, but the connection feels genuine, and the hokey dialogue sometimes puts a burn on that.
Except today, they need someone to fill in, because Alona is out sick with the flu. And, as luck-or stupidity-would have it, Jared is the natural choice. He's used to spur of the moment improvisation. Took the college class after all.
For a Friday afternoon, the audience is packed with families and teenagers, glittering sparkle of camera flashes as the music pounds.
Jared looks up the ladder to the high emcee platform on fake concrete plumes of water and ice, a good twenty or thirty feet above the deck. It's high, but he can deal with this. He's totally fine. Totally.
"How's the weather up there?" Mike says, clapping a hand on Jared's shoulder out of the blue.
Jared rolls his eyes, trying to cover up his jerk of surprise. "Ha, ha."
"You know, if you spent more time with the orcas, you'd be doing all the jumps and shit. Wouldn't have the height fear," Mike says. Petulantly, Jared wants to smack the Shamu costume head out Mike's hands.
"My specialty is dolphins, Mike."
"Orcas are in the Dolphin family, dumbass. Even I know that."
He looks smug. Jared not sure how Mike can convey smugness since he's in a whale costume, ready to do his dorky whale shuffle for the kids, but Mike's just talented that way.
It's the anticipation that's making him screw up, Jared reasons. It's slowly sucking oxygen and IQ points from his brain.
Mike squints, trying to peer out from the back area into the bright sunlight and stands. "Hey, have you talked to Jensen for some tips? Guy looks cool as a cucumber out there."
"Out where?"
His question is answered when the voice comes up on the speakers, above the loud echo of rock music that blasts before the show. The crowd cheers and dies down, a clear voice that Jared recognizes, one with a hint of Texan drawl that's been patterned on his own.
"Good afternoon, everyone! My name is Jensen, and I'm going to be your host today. I hope you're wearing protective, uh, clothes, because the first few rows might get a little wet!"
A few dozen feet across, back stage and safely out of view, is Katie, perking up from standing behind the scenes. She mouthing words to Jared, what's going on? He shrugs, eyes wide and unsure of what to say.
Keep calm, that's most important right now.
Jared mouths, let him, and Katie waves her hands in assent.
"Oh my God," Jared says.
But it's muffled by the cheers of the crowd as Jensen begins the show narration, flawless in delivery. He's eloquent, charming, and has just the right amount of humor that keeps the crowd rapt. The Bottlenose dolphins seem to listen to his orders more than those given by their own trainers-their actions are flawlessly smooth.
And that, in a way, is the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Jensen has been throwing Jared off all this time, this uncomfortable strain that's putting Jared on his last nerve, unable to find rhythm or reason. It isn't like he can't deal with him-he can, he really can, he just needs to find a way to push down that inevitable throb of want that rises in him, this need he feels to learn from him, but oh, to learn so much more than any talk about the ocean can achieve.
That's why this is impossible, because here Jensen is, throwing a wrench into things, the very center of what's shaking up Jared's life. What he can't control and what he wants desperately to get a handle on all of a sudden.
When there's a lull and the music blasts, each step that takes Jared towards Jensen is followed by pounding beats. It sets a thrum in his chest that gets his adrenaline going, hand gripping Jensen tight, barely letting him call his goodbyes. Applause follows their exit as they make their way downstairs to the tanks, rubber soled shoes slapping wet on the concrete.
Backstage behind the tanks for the show, the only light is a small hallway bulb above, and a wall of glass, bathing them both in a blue glow. Jared can feel anger radiating off him in waves, his jaw clenched tight and twitching.
"What the hell was that? What were you doing?" Jared asks him.
Jensen moves a hand out, as though he wants to reach out and touch, like physical contact will make everything better instantly. He fidgets instead. "I thought you'd want me to help you?"
"Yeah, but not like that-I didn't say do my job for me," Jared says, exhaling. He his hands ball into fists as he tries to keep his voice steady, trying to be as civilized as Jensen, his gaze unnaturally calm. Jared has a few inches on Jensen, but with Jensen's confident composure, not backing down, it's hard to feel that height gives him any advantage.
He's getting into Jensen's space now, breath hot and teeth bared, a flare of warmth firing up through Jared's chest, closer to Jensen. It's as though Jensen can pinpoint the exact pressure points that'll get Jared riled up, this low sound that he makes not a click or chatter, not any communication that Jared can translate.
It's a need, a feeling of wanting.
"You come here and talk to animals, and you act like it's so easy for you-and, and I don't know what to do. What game are you playing?" Jared asks, punctuates his question with a shove to Jensen's shoulder, almost relishing the glare he gets. Good. Get him angry, get him talking. "What do you need me for, then?"
"It's not easy for me either," Jensen says sharply. "I only woke up human a few days ago! I'm trying to do my best."
"I know," Jared snaps, his tone bitter. He pulls back from Jensen, moves to brace an arm against the glass. Trying to ignore the urge to look at Jensen, seeing the taught muscles of Jensen's broad shoulders, bold lines of blue and white streaking down his sides, highlighting his slim waist.
"Do you really understand?" Jensen says abruptly.
When Jared takes a step back, he can see Jensen's reflection in the glass, a ghostly face of blue.
"I'm weaker. Slower. I can't move the way I used to, I can't breathe the way I used to, and every single morning, I wake up after sleeping and dreaming of…" Jensen sucks in a breath, a pause that drags on forever. Jared feels annoyed at how fast his heart is hammering, how he feels himself sweat under the sheen of water still covering his body.
Trying to calm down isn't working.
"And every time I look at you…" Jensen trails off, roughshod in his voice, mouth wet, open. Jensen is no longer in the soft white light of the hallway, but the blue light of the tanks. He's moving closer to Jared, looking irritated and vulnerable, skin still wet and body shaking with anger.
"What?" Jared can feel himself saying, pulse thrumming in his ears, fuzzy echo of shoes on concrete as Jensen moves closer.
There's this hitch of noise, a low click, as Jensen surges forward, "All my body wants to do is react."
That's when he shoves against Jared, presses up and in. Eyes all wide, searching Jared's face, licking his lips, the pressure hot and dizzying. He murmurs, "I can't control it."
His eyes are too green and his mouth is too close.
Before Jared knows it, they're kissing each other, mouths hungry and hands searching for grip. It starts out fast and fumbling, this collision of lips, teeth clacking and bodies pressed against each other, hips slotting up just right.
It doesn't feel that as weird as Jared thinks it would. What it does feel is right, like Jensen's mouth was made for this, his kisses slow and achingly wonderful. It feels right, like everything locking into place. This is why Jensen's hands are shaped just so, to fit against Jared, to wrap around his arms, his biceps, pulling him closer. This is what Jensen's mouth was made for, lips pink and puffy, Jared's hand cupping his face and thumbing his cheekbones.
Jensen leans into Jared's touch, lifting his head to press up into Jared's space, to rub against the slow friction of Jared's wetsuit.
The outfit is tight enough to leave little to the imagination, and Jensen groans, as though the thought comes to him at the same time: off.
Jared tears a hand away from Jensen's hair, moving to cup the back of his neck. The better to pull him closer, because Jared wants, no, needs to taste the saltiness of Jensen's mouth.
And the better to start tugging at the wetsuit zipper.
Zipper finally caught, Jared drags it down. His hand moves to the small of Jensen's back, fingertips pressing deep, brushing smooth, raised skin. It's a scar, soft like of tissue that Jared is familiar with on a different body.
The smallest noises are coming out of Jensen now, needy and impatient, like he's had a taste and can't get enough, wanting more.
It's a first taste, the smooth line under Jared's fingers like a white hot reminder of reality.
How not right this is, because this cannot happen. Not now, not with Jensen.
He grunts, little puffs of breath against Jensen's lips, moan low and guttural as he pushes away.
"I can't-I'm sorry," Jared gasps, but Jensen keeps his hands on him, wanting that touch. Lingering, he jerks his head up to look at Jared, but it's not enough.
It's not enough to prevent Jared from running away.
*
The trick to a human body is how it manages to showcase exactly every embarrassing fault, which is guaranteed to occur at the worst possible moment. It's accident-prone, it's dry and clumsy, surging with urges and hormones that feel as though it will never be satisfied. Whenever Jared is around, the feeling is magnified, concentrated into this breathless and hyperactive need to please and entertain rather than claim and take.
It makes Jensen want to court Jared the old-fashioned way. Whatever that means.
Kissing a human turns out to be less weird than Jensen thought it would be. He's never kissed anyone before, never thought about the repercussions, that he can't think clearly, that his body, god, this body.
It's a swipe of Jared's tongue that undoes him, his warmth and energy and everything distinctly his, his scent lingering on Jensen's mouth and skin. The taste of Jared stays with Jensen for a few minutes afterwards as he tries to collect himself, the fuzzy echo of music dissipating behind him as he moves through the hallway. He's dazed, unable to try to look out for himself let alone look out for Jared.
He wants more of Jared's mouth, his hands, his cock, everything. He wants it, now, definitely wants him, wants to explore his very human body and learn just what spots to press and lick and touch. But with Jared running away, and the look on his face as he left, that's-that's something Jensen doesn't want. What he needs is time to explain himself, and then Jared will understand. He'll see.
Jensen always gets what he wants. He just needs to narrow his focus.
The only thing Jensen doesn't get, though, is a moment of peace, because that's when the nearby janitor's closet door opens and a mop whizzes by his nose, clattering to the floor.
"Shit!" Jensen shouts.
Chad steps out of the closet, fumbling to prop up the mops, brooms, bottles and other items threatening to tumble out. His eyes are wide, like a fish in a shark's line of sight, a brief moment of terror before he relaxes when he sees that it's Jensen.
Oddly enough, Jensen feels a little annoyed that he doesn't have Chad cowering still, but there are more pressing matters to deal with, such as Chad stepping out of a closet.
"What are you doing here?" Chad asks, closing the door behind him. "And why are you wearing that outfit? You look ridiculous."
"I could ask you the same thing!" Jensen snaps, wiping his face. Breathes in and out and tries to push past the afterglow that has him honestly mooning over a kiss. And he hasn't even had sex with Jared yet. That line of thinking does nothing to calm him down. "I finished doing the dolphin show. What were you doing in there?"
Chad opens and closes his mouth, snapping it shut before blurting out the truth. Hesitating, he lies, "Um, cleaning?"
"'Cleaning'," Jensen repeats, his voice coming out ragged and short, and he can feel that burst of adrenaline leaving him. It makes him whine low in his throat, leaning back against the nearest wall, this impatient, needy shimmy of his hips and waist.
"You smell like sex for real this time. What were you doing?" Chad says.
"Uhhh," Jensen stammers.
Actually, it's a credit to his brain that he can manage to translate anything into human right now, because in reality, all he wants to do is moan.
So he does, for another second, which is all the translation that Chad needs. His friend nods, eyes narrowing, and sums it up, saying, "Did you mount him?"
"No, Chad." Jensen takes a breath and straightens up, mumbling. "He ran away."
"Oh, that bites."
"Tell me about it," Jensen says, not even bothering to let Chad speak, because he can't take any jokes or any fun at his expense right now because he's hard and needy and it sucks.
"He ran, and what am I going to do? He's angry, and he's so… he gets all riled up, and I don't want to drive him away and-I don't know how to do this."
By now, Chad's rubbing his chin, blond stubble growing in. "Think I got a way to take your mind off of things. The party's tonight, remember?"
"Party?" Jensen's eyes widen. "What party?"
"Well, that's up to you to find out," Chad says, looking pleased as hell when he smiles, edging back to the closet. "It's all in the plan, dude. Go after Jared now. I bet he's waiting in the parking lot for you. I mean, he is your ride back and he's not gonna leave you high and dry. I'll meet you guys back at Jared's house."
With that, he's back in the closet and Jensen's dick has finally managed to go soft at the thought of the tense ride back to the house.
*
Jared knows that hiding out in the Penguin Encounter exhibit is by no means the best plan for avoiding Jensen. He uses the excuse of checking on the exhibit's residents. Coincidentally, he may be trying to will away the biggest hard-on he's had in recent memory. Jared would never get over the memory (or the thought that these penguins would take one look and know what he did, especially the Southern Rockhopper penguin out on that rock cropping).
However, staying later than normal and hiding out only results in being the last to leave and it turns out that Jensen doesn't have a ride home.
Jared doesn't need to hear him ask; once Jensen walked into the habitat, the knowledge hit Jared. The knowledge that there's more of this, and he's a grown man sulking in an animal exhibit.
Jensen jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I need a ride. If that's-if that's okay."
"Did you-" Jared gestures with a hand, this awkward space between them. Right in the middle of a damn penguin exhibit, dozens of pairs of tiny eyes looking at them both. "I was checking up on the birds."
"Right," Jensen says. He cocks his head towards the penguins and puffins. "I've never seen you work with them before."
"Maybe because I had my hands full before!" Jared says abruptly, feeling a twinge of guilt when he moves past Jensen to the employee area.
"With me," Jensen says under his breath.
*
Any plans Jared had for his night at home researching, avoiding, and trying not to be completely awkward around Jensen is ruined once he reaches his house and is unable to park. Which is due to the myriad of cars and SUVs parked out on the curb and driveway. The front yard and house are teeming with people, loud music blasting as they carry on conversations over cans of beer and cups of whatever else they're drinking.
Jared remembers that all the other trainers had left work earlier, claiming they were busy when he asked them why. Judging by the familiar cars in the driveway, it looks like they did have somewhere to go.
Jared looks at Jensen, getting a wide-eyed stare in return. "Do you know something about this?"
Getting out of the truck, Jensen shrugs, hands in his pockets. "Chad?"
Jared frowns at the answer as he and Jensen start to navigate through the crowd and into the house.
Inside of the house the place is alive with even louder music, and a good share of people from the park. For the most part, Jared doesn't recognize many of them. Some are cheery, some are rapt in their own conversations, barely acknowledging Jared's awkward, tight smile as he moves past them.
However, he does recognize the people sitting around Chad in the living room-replace the SeaWorld gift shop staff shirts with party clothes and you have Chad's co-workers: Sophia, Danneel, Hilarie, James and the rest, all laughing at one of Chad's stories.
Jensen lets out a high pitched whistle near Jared's ear, making him wince and jump.
He's not the only one; Chad jumps to attention, excusing himself to come over. He's in loud Hawaiian swim trunks and aviator shades and absolutely nothing else.
"Hey," Chad says.
This time it's Jensen who looks pissed off. "'Hey'?"
Chad slings his arms around the two of them, alcohol on his breath making Jared wonder if he's doing it out of friendship or because he needs actual bodily support. "Welcome, my friends. Thought you forgot about the party!"
"Party?" Jensen asks, incredulously.
"You didn't say anything about a party! And not in my-in the house I'm supposed to be taking care of!" Jared exclaims. He swears he just heard glass breaking, wincing at the noise. It could be his heart pounding, because he still has Jensen by his elbow, looking at the crowd curiously.
"Yeah, uh, I think I'll go get a drink. Looks like you two need some time alone!" Chad says, all spry as he maneuvers into the crowd. "You'll thank me later!"
Right, because now that Chad has left, Jared is alone with Jensen.
Even though his house is filled to the brim with people, with Jensen standing nearby, Jared feels like the whole world could fall away. Because what happened back at the park, that isn't real. It can't be. It's a freak accident, a rush of adrenaline, whatever it is, Jared will deny it.
Jensen jerks his head in the direction of the backyard, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. "Do you want to go outside?"
"Yeah," Jared manages to say, bristling when some strangers knock past him, probably getting more drinks. Oh man. He really hopes there's not like a keg in the kitchen. Cleaning that up is going to be a nightmare. "That sounds great."
Walking out onto the patio feels more like coming up from air, no longer facing the crushing pressure of people. Outside the backyard is lit with strands of lights crossing above the pool, sending shimmering reflections on the surface. The group of people outside talk and laugh quietly, mostly couples enthralled in each other's company.
It's still too crowded for Jared's tastes, so he finds shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to talk.
Again, Jensen takes initiative. That initiative being how he starts to strip his clothes, faster than before, like he's used to the breadth of his shoulders and reach of his arms, settling into this new body.
"Hold on a second," Jared starts to stay, grabbing for him, looking around. "No stripping in public, remember?"
"I want to try out the pool," Jensen says, and that's how two minutes later he's standing on the diving board, stripped down to his boxers.
Jensen is all smooth, lean muscle. He'd have the perfect swimmer's build save for the fact that his shoulders aren't wide, but his waist is narrow enough for Jared to imagine how Jensen would fit perfectly between his thighs.
Jensen hesitates for a moment, testing the bounce of the board before he's doing a backwards flip into the pool, twisting at the end of it to hit the water in a belly flop, limbs akimbo.
Turns out not all of Jensen's sleek movements remain intact.
He's wincing though, which makes Jared automatically dash over, resting on his haunches near the edge of the pool. "Jensen, you all right?"
"I'm good, I'm good," Jensen says, looking every other way but Jared's face. Trying his best to look nonchalant, though Jared knows he must feel at least a little embarrassed and probably stinging from the hard slap of the water. He's so different from his usual cocky show-off self that Jared can't help but laugh.
"You think this is funny?" Jensen grumps. "How your kind is able to dive from those tall heights without breaking something, I'll never know."
"It's cool, dude. You're not Michael Phelps," Jared is able to get out between giggles, laughing even more when Jensen gets that starry look in his eyes.
"Neither are you," Jensen says, paddling back. "The water's fine."
"Nah, I'm good."
"I didn't say you had a choice," Jensen says, edge of mischief to his voice as he lurches up, trying to latch on to Jared. It's rushed and clumsy, getting a kneecap, his wrist, enough momentum to send Jared crashing into the pool, clothes and all.
The sudden shock and cold of the water takes a second or two to recover from, wiping his hair back, water stinging his eyes and nose. But it's a welcomed shock to the system, even if he can hear gasps of surprise and laughter from the pool deck-to everyone else, it's a prank, but to him, it's a place that's familiar and comforting. For a moment, anyway, because where he'd usually swim a few laps to take his mind off things, now a few strokes take him to Jensen's side, the person at the center of his inner meltdown.
It's not fair that he should feel so at home and so fucking screwed at the same time, because here Jensen is in his element, looking pleased and just as comfortable as Jared is, all clumsiness melting away.
Jared has become suddenly, almost painfully aware at how close they are, light playing along the angles of Jensen's face and bare shoulders. The water is up to mid shoulder, temperature just a shade warmer than Jared is used to in comparison to the cooler waters of the park. They're almost alone. Hell, they pretty much are alone, because none of the partygoers are that nearby, none of them care to notice what's going on between Jared and Jensen.
Jared clears his throat, treading water. "I'm sorry for freaking out at you earlier."
He isn't exactly sorry, because well, he's got a valid reason to be freaked out. Making out with someone that's actually not human is pretty high on the list of reasons to be freaked out. And then there's that tinge of, well, if he wants to put a finger on it, he can chalk it up to jealousy. Barely two weeks and already Jensen's doing well for himself, and isn't that messed up, that Jared can't be happy for him?
Or that Jared can be, but it's a little hard to concentrate on his own work when he's got someone like Jensen around, looking the way he looks and acting the way he does.
"I liked kissing you," Jensen says bluntly, then he scowls, annoyed with himself. "Sorry, I just-I really like you, Jared. I'm not used to this. It's hard for me to control myself in this body."
Ending this before it starts feels like the safest and best option, but he can feel himself waver, unable to say it. The party noises are drowned out, now, this easy back and forth that's comfortable, for once, not completely awkward. Because it's only them now.
"Yeah, I can see that. But you can't just like… jump on me. I still want you to respect me in the morning," Jared jokes, grimacing at the sound of it.
Jensen frowns. "Humans don't respect each other after they've had sex?"
"Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Jumping the gun there, buddy!" Jared says, his voice breaking. He's this close to swallowing a mouthful of water. "No sex!"
"But that's what you do, right? To be close with one another," Jensen says, slowly, as though explaining it to Jared. He can feel himself bristling at how easy Jensen makes it sound.
"Yeah, that's what everyone does. It's natural, but I like to get to know someone first. Before. Going to that place." That sounds even lamer speaking it than thinking it.
"Oh," Jensen says, his voice low, and then he perks up. "Do you want me to court you?"
Jared is suddenly reminded of old traditions, prim and proper men and ladies, a weird image as he's trying to keep afloat. Ignoring the crease of worry between Jensen's brows, Jared says, "Sort of. You have to know this is weird, all right?"
"Of course it's weird. I'm not an idiot."
"Yeah, but-" Jared sighs. "It's not-it's not like. Here. Let's see if I can explain. I read this myth the other night that might sound familiar. In my research, trying to figure out-well, what happened to you, I came across this thing from Brazil."
Jensen hums in interest and Jared tries not to stare at the soft wetness of his mouth. "Yeah?"
"Some South Americans believe in the Encantado myth. It means 'enchanted one.' It's about dolphins that have the ability to turn into humans. They come onto shore and romance townspeople," Jared murmurs, feeling his breath hitch as Jensen moves closer.
"They don't let up. They enchant and haunt the ones they want to be with. They're said to kidnap those they fall in love with to bring them back to the Encante. Their underwater paradise."
Closing his eyes, Jared can feel the puff of Jensen's breath, the steady beat of his chest, a hand coming up to wrap around Jensen's bicep. It's easy to stay like this, to get lost in the closeness of Jensen's body and the softness of his voice. It's as though the feeling he gets out of training and being close to the dolphins is infused in this, only the purest thoughts and fuck, when it comes down to it? He's hard and aching for Jensen's mouth, like having a taste of it again will explain everything he's always wanted to know about the ocean.
The water weaves and bobs, eyelevel changing before Jared uses the momentum to lean forward, lips brushing Jensen's in a soft kiss.
This time, it tastes sweet.
It's chaste and wet, cut short when Jensen's pulling back and looking up, confused. "Oh, shit."
Jared's about to ask why he's stopped but that when the background noise comes into prominence again, the world back in focus and it's when he can hear the screams.
"There's a walrus in the hot tub!"
*
Ten minutes later the party is mostly cleared out, the stragglers whispering about some "dumb" or "kick ass" prank, depending on who's doing the talking. The refuse left in their wake leaves the house looking like a hurricane blew through: cups, paper plates, crushed chips and other strange objects that remind Jensen of the audience stands after a dolphin show, right before the stadium cleanup. Only this time the show ends with a full grown male walrus sitting in the hot tub connected to the pool, scowling at Jensen and Jared.
Jensen lets out a low whistle, trying to keep his focus on the sight in front of him and not how red Jared's face is getting. "Chad?"
'Who else?' Chad growls. 'They thought I pranked them. The girls went to change for the tub, they left for a minute and I got in and then it-it just happened, okay, I didn't mean to change back! Totally blew my fucking night.'
The hard-on in Jensen's boxers reminds him that it isn't only Chad's night that's been blown. Nearly making a fool of himself belly-flopping into the pool, yeah, that blows. But he'd been so close and his second chance at getting Jared-at getting to fuck Jared, body aching for it-is gone. The worst thing isn't the stinging pain of his belly or the wilting hard-on. It's how Chad cockblocked him.
Jensen frowns. "Did you break the hot tub?"
'No.' Chad sounds offended. 'I knew it, Jensen. You think all walruses are fat.'
Meanwhile, Jared is standing there flabbergasted and really red in the face. He's panicking, pushing his wet bangs off his forehead, all the coy and shyness of the moment before is gone.
Worry doesn't look good on Jared, Jensen thinks. He wants nothing more than to make Jared happy, and yet here they are, intruding and possibly wrecking the house Jared's watching over. Jensen is about to apologize when Jared's posture straightens, as though he's pushing down the panic and anger to clear his thoughts.
Taking control of the situation, Jared moves closer to the edge of the hot tub. "Can you coax him out? Let's try doing that rather than lifting."
"Chad hasn't responded well to authority in the past," Jensen says, folding his arms as Chad does a little shuffle towards the steps leading out of the tub.
'Yeah, tell him about the time where I helped you bail on royal guards and nearly got half my ass chewed out by the fuckin' shark patrol. Tell him about that!'
"Those sharks can suck my dick," Jensen snaps, adding, "Long story," when Jared gives him a look of surprise.
It's then that the water starts bubbling and foaming, Jared calling, "Chad, did you hit the button?"
But it's not the hot tub jets. It's magic, the same swirls and sparks of light that Jensen vaguely remembers, confirmed when Chad steps out of the pool, a wet, shivering human.
The bright Hawaiian trunks Chad had on have stretched out so far that they pool around his ankles, right as he flexes his toes and fingers like he's getting used to being human again.
"Whoa. Thought I was back for a minute." Chad snatches up the loose swim trunks before he good-naturedly claps Jared on the shoulder. "Thanks for having my back. Sorry about the tub."
Chad passes by Jensen, leaning in close and sarcastically whispering, "Your majesty." The he heads back into the house like nothing happened.
*
Battening down the hatches against the attractions of a fascinating, handsome man seems like going against his better judgment for Jared.
But there's never been a case-not that Jared knows of-of an interested potential boyfriend that used to be, well, not human. There are tales of mermaids, selkies, sirens, and the Encantado, the kind of magic Jared spent many an afternoon reading about when he was little-and many a recent night trying to research-whenever he wanted to get his hands on anything that could explain the magical pull of the ocean. And in all these tales, the magical beings would lure men to the ocean's depths, or in some cases, to their deaths. So far, it seems like Jensen has the purest of intentions.
Pure, to an extent, that is. Because Jensen has a tendency to stare, his gaze lingering as though he's sizing Jared up for the taking.
It's a slow, torturous tease because they're living together and sharing the same space, and Jared has to be the one teaching Jensen about the smallest things:
What to wear-and watch Jensen strip quickly before Jared can even turn around and look away discreetly.
How to eat-feeling Jensen's thumb rub slow, small circles on the back of Jared's hand as he shows him how to hold a fork and knife properly.
When to shave-cupping Jensen's jaw with his palm when he's nicked himself too many times, swiping a finger under Jensen's cheekbone and feeling his trusting gaze the entire time.
It's too close, enough so that it becomes hard to deny when Jared is shucking down his jeans and boxers in the bathroom, grabbing his cock and pumping quickly, Jensen's face readily coming to mind.
And now, after what happened, Jared knows it's being too close, because he knows the looks Jensen gives him after those bathroom sessions have another edge to them-not curiosity, but knowing, knowing what he's doing later on, that he's jerking off, and that Jensen has heard all of it. And now, Jared knows Jensen wants the same thing.
It's not going to eat him up inside. It's just not.
It'll eat up his sanity, though, so that's why the sudden twang of the metal locker door shutting nearby has him on edge, jumping at the noise.
Jared braces an arm against the small door frame, shaking his head. "Warn a guy, would you?"
"Great party the other night," Aldis says, zipping up his wetsuit and moving to sit down on the low bench. "When Chad told us you were doing something, I thought he was lying! No way you'd pull that. How'd you get that walrus at the end? Was it animatronic or something? Now that's how you end a party!"
"I guess," Jared says distractedly, the collar of his wetsuit suddenly feeling too hot and tight. He spins around, plasters on a smile and shrugs. "I know people who know people?"
Yeah, he's real great at lying his ass off. Once Aldis raises an eyebrow, Jared goes on to mumble about special effects houses when the room starts filling up slowly, trainers and workers trickling in.
"What's up?" Brock says enthusiastically, giving Jared a high five. "That party was a blast!"
"Glad you had fun," Jared responds automatically, biting back the urge to say, because I spent most of it trying to keep a raging hard-on in check. Instead, he says, "You still need to check up on Spirit today, Brock. She's not being responsive to your commands. It could be that she's sick."
"Should've named her 'Complacent'," Brock grumbles.
"Brock, check on her. I can't be responsible for everyone and everything," Jared snaps, harsher than he intends it to be. Brock's eyebrows shoot up and there's this moment of uneasiness that descends as they get dressed for the day.
The other trainers are being careful around Jared, like they know he's in some kind of mood-and that's the thing, he isn't really, he just needs to get his head back into his routine of working and researching again.
Mostly because he'd rather do research of other parts of Jensen's anatomy but that's not the point.
Then again, the point could just be that Jared's screwed, scent of dead fish hitting his nostrils as he makes his way to food prep. Perfect.
*
"I don't understand humans, Jeff," Jensen says, legs pulled up and his arms bracing his knees as he stares at the thick glass wall of the orca tank. The water is deep blue, the pale dark blur of "Winchester" or rather of his friend Jeffrey behind the glass, calling back to him through the water.
Understanding animal speech in this body takes getting used to, but Jensen's more than willing to accept the challenge. It's a voice without sound at all, an echo of a voice in Jensen's brain, sounding fuzzy and unintelligible at first until he concentrates. Sorts out the words and then it's clear, it's talking, telling, admonishing-
'So what, he didn't fall all over you at the first chance? You might be a prince, but that doesn't mean you're always going to have everything handed over to you. Tough luck,' Jeff says, his gruff rumble comforting. He turns in the tank, peering out at Jensen with one eye. 'They're not like us, you know.'
"Yeah, I've figured that out," Jensen says. "Doesn't help that Jared thinks I'm some kind of weirdo."
'Well, you are. Walkin' around on those funny legs. I'd say you're a weirdo.'
A plume of air shoots up from Jeff, the spray of water cold and refreshing against Jensen's face and legs. Batting at the lanyard of his guest credential, Jeff starts talking again, slowly swimming back and forth across the wide berth of the tank. 'You know how they are-they need to be taught just as much as they try to teach us.'
Jensen sighs. "But I don't have the time to teach him, that's the problem."
He shuts up and forces a smile, seeing Mike coming down the stairs to the stadium, this awkward shuffle of costumed feet as he hops down the last few steps. Holding the fuzzy killer whale mascot head on his hip, Mike looks to Jensen and the tank, confused.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Je-uh, just Winchester," Jensen replies, getting to his feet. For a second he feels a pang of guilt, like he's been caught. But then reason comes in, as Mike as no idea what he is, or what's going on. "Talking to him, that's all."
Mike's smiling at him now, but Jensen recognizes the feeling behind it-it's not meeting his eyes and it's strained, an okay, weird feeling behind it, before Mike's nodding to the tank. "Pretty one-sided conversation though."
"Oh, he's talking back. You're just not listening correctly."
Jensen can hear Jeff sighing in the background. 'Great, here we go…'
"Really, you think so?" Mike asks, and the suspicious demeanor drops. "Because I always thought the theories about interspecies communication have merit to them, you know?"
Jensen nods carefully. "They do."
"And since I try to go Method here, it's better to communicate and learn, try to be one with the orca. We talk all the time," Mike says enthusiastically.
'Yeah. All the time. Ask him when was the last time he gave me some fish! Go ahead!' Jeff growls. 'Ask him!'
Jensen thinks it's a testament to Jeff's patience that he hasn't dumped a few hundred gallons of water on Mike with one wave of his tail over the years. Especially since if Jensen had to hear this kind of adulation on a daily basis, he might go insane.
"…I even thought about trying out for the Moby Dick at the dinner theater playhouse in town, but that's so beneath me, you know?" Mike says, just as Jensen can spy a welcome and handsome face entering the stadium.
It's Jared, and his eyes dart away from them so that he's bowing his head down and plowing across the water-clogged walkway, long legs and arms snug in the black and blue wetsuit that leaves little to the imagination, every muscle and curve outlined. There's a bucket that's no doubt heavy with fish in one of his hands, but at the speed he's going, it looks like it weighs nothing at all. He's hightailing past them, past Jensen.
"Jared!" Jensen excuses himself from Mike and rushes over, standing in front of Jared to stop him from plowing ahead any further.
"I've got to go to the sea lions. Food," Jared says, waving the bucket, sounds of fish squishy and wet. "Don't have time to talk right now."
"Then make time," Jensen says playfully. It's enough to send Jared back a step, his shoulders slouching as the tension dissipates, and now it's just the two of them-no charged moments, no kissing, just talking, like they need to do.
Jensen lowers his voice, "I don't want to scare you away. Even though I-"
"Really want to fuck me?" Jared supplies.
"Well, when you put it that way," Jensen sighs. Jared is dry and his hair is a little fluffy, tangles that Jensen wishes he could reach out and straighten. Every urge in his body towards Jared is to touch; it's what dolphins do, and what he wants to do. It's how they live and communicate.
Only he's not one of them now. And neither is Jared.
"I'll move out then," Jensen says. "I don't want to be any more of a distraction to you."
"What?" Something twists in Jensen's belly to see the look Jared gives him, confused and crushed all at once. "You don't have to-"
"No, I really do," Jensen breaks in. "I'll be fine. I think I know where to go. And we can still talk and… do all that, without it being weird all the time."
Taking this in, Jared starts to nod slowly, and there it is, what Jensen's desperately missed and needs to see: a smile, a real genuine one. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. We can take it slow. See how it goes."
This would be the point where Chad would helpfully suggest he add "in my pants," but Jensen only smiles in return. It's infectious, this smiling thing, the shifts and quirks of his face sliding wonderfully into place.
It's a smile that lasts until he asks, "So, sea lions?" and Jared nods.
"Want to help?"
'Did he just say sea lions?' Jeff interrupts, powerful strokes of his tail sending water lapping up against the walls, overflowing to drench their calves and feet. 'He's going to go talk to the lunchables over you! What kind of human is that, Jensen?'
Jensen eyes the tank. 'Shut up, Jeff.'
Jared eyes their exchange with mild interest. "Did he just say something to you?"
"Yeah, he wanted to know about the luncha…" Jensen trails off. Instinctively, he rolls his shoulders, this embarrassed shrug. "Um, he calls the sea lions 'lunchables.' It's a long story."
Jared smiles. "I've got time."
*
It's a good morning. They talk, about Jeff, the sea lions, whether or not Mike's ready for dinner theater. Jared gets in the tank and greets the visitors at the Cove, his mood lifting as he grins and rattles off facts and deals with questions from the visitors, some personal ("Do you smell like fish all the time?") and some strictly concerning the dolphins ("Do they drink water?"). When he answers, Jared's whole face lights up, grinning from ear to ear.
The downside to moving out turns out to be that he's relying on his backup plan, and that backup plan consists of Chad.
He says goodbye to Jared around lunchtime, all set to swing by the gift shop and relay Chad the news about him moving out.
Jared bites his lip as he bobs in the water. He pushes his hair back, saying, "You'll swing by later, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen says, craning his head to look up over Jared's shoulder. In the distance, Jim stands in the doorway to the employee quarters, arms folded and anger on his face. He nods to Jensen, glance furtive and urgent. "Later."
Jensen ambles over to where Jim's standing, offering a warm smile that soon fades as he approaches, Jim glaring at him.
"Mornin' your majesty," Jim says, grabbing him by the shoulder and tugging him towards the hallway.
It's instinct that has Jensen jerking away, scrambling to come up with some cover-up, playing dumb might work, but-
"Oh, don't start, boy. I know about you," Jim says. "You're treading water, Jensen. You shouldn't have done it in the first place."
"What are you talking about?" Jensen asks, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice.
"You know what," Jim says, scanning the area. He's standing a little too close, bill of his cap down and covering his whisper as he says, "The spell that damn turtle put on you and your 'cousin'."
Jensen swallows. "Misha wasn't-"
"Let's talk about this elsewhere," Jim interrupts. The last thing Jensen wants is to follow this guy, because bad, bad things can happen now. His secret's out, and who's to say Jim won't tell it to the nearest human, or those reporters, like on the television-
The fourth door down from the Assistant Supervisor's office is where they end up, the janitor's closet. Jim applies pressure on the right side panel, behind a bucket and some grimy mops.
And then the back wall of the janitor's closet slides open into what looks like an apartment.
Taking a step in, Jensen notices that the space looks like a room sealed away behind the park offices, old storage and employee lounges. Sections of the walls and furniture look years, maybe decades old, with boxy wooden surfaces, lava lamps, and plastic-covered couches.
Chad is sitting on one of these covered couch taking drinking a beer and watching Flipper on a surprisingly nice flat-screen TV.
Jensen doesn't get a chance to question him, because Jim cuffs him on the back of the head, telling him to close his mouth and pay attention.
"Oww!" Jensen winces. "Sorry."
"I used to be like you," Jim says. "Until I transitioned and decided to stay on land."
"You what?" Jensen asks. It's surprising, but it makes sense at the same time, pieces slotting into place. He can feel himself getting breathless, a million questions coming to him at once. "Wait, were you sent here to watch over me?"
Jim scowls at him. Or, well, scowls more at him. "Hell no, that's your buddy over there's job. But I took one look at the two of you and I knew there was something up. Made sure the paperwork cleared, can never trust a turtle to do all the work. I kept an eye on you both until I could figure out what you were up to."
"Jared," Jensen says softly. "I told him I was going to move out."
Apparently it's worthy enough for Chad to take a listen, since the TV goes on pause, Flipper hanging in midair.
"Awesome! Roomies!" Chad says putting his fist in the air. "C'mon, let's bump fists. It's fun."
Jensen isn't really sure what to do with that.
"Things between Jared and me are awkward right now," Jensen explains, sitting down on a one of the couches.
"Yeah, that's what happens when you're in love, you stupid ass," Jim says when they're all settled in the sitting area. "You know, you gotta tell Jared who you are. The whole shebang."
Jensen laughs a little, shakily. "You think he'll understand?"
"Won't know until you try," Jim points out.
The plastic slides and sticks against Jensen, this uneasy surface discomforting to him at first; but he sinks in, and tries to sort out his thoughts.
It's actually a little comforting to speak to someone who isn't Chad about the whole thing, because as much as Chad will lay out his own opinions to Jensen, it's not the outside perspective he thinks might benefit him. When it comes down to it, Jensen is still higher up on the hierarchical chain, and Chad will still be his attendant.
Jim, however, is none of those things. He won't defer to Jensen just because of the royal status he holds.
"You can stay here for now. The couches are all pull-outs. Just don't pester me when I'm sleeping."
"You don't mind sleeping?" Jensen asks. "I'm sorry to pry, but doesn't it feel wrong, going fully unconscious like that?"
"You get used to it," Jim says, leaning back into the couch, faint crackle of plastic. "Now, first rule is no going around telling people about this secret apartment, you got it? Second, I don't care that you're the crown prince of the seven seas-"
"Actually I'm-"
"Boy, don't you interrupt me." Jim side-eyes Chad for a long moment and Chad reluctantly takes his feet off the coffee table. "Now, house rules are that everyone recycles. Chad'll explain how to sort out what recyclables go where. Any questions?"
There's a hundred that come to mind, easy, but he waits too long and Jim nods, saying, "Great. This episode of Flipper is my favorite."
*
With Jensen moving out, Jared is able to breathe a little easier in the house. No longer would he have to panic after finding Jensen wandering around naked early in the morning. There's enough space between them to not worry about getting up in each other's faces, or any pent-up frustrations starting to build. Jared doesn't have to worry about what Jensen is wearing or what he's eating, because he's a grown ma-well, he's a grown adult, and Jared should not have to mind him all the time.
Jensen says he's staying with Chad now, and Jared doesn't ask him where exactly that would be. Maybe he should, but Jensen is always first to arrive and last to leave at the park, a spectacle of endless enthusiasm and serious concern that's shaking up Jared's work experience. It isn't like he's been bored, exactly, with his work, but with Jensen being here, it's refreshing.
It makes more sense to invite Jensen over to the house like he's a coworker and all Jared wants is to hang out with him, just like having a buddy around. Sure, having a private space to talk is the main excuse, seeing as Jensen gets all animated and excited, with hand gestures no less when talking about a world no human has ever seen nor properly understood. Jared doesn't want to rein him in and have him feel awkward at the park or around other trainers.
When they aren't talking about dolphin behavior, they're talking about human behavior, and sometimes these conversations take turns for the philosophical, with Jensen always wanting to know why people behave the way they do. More often than not, Jensen comes out looking more disappointed than before he went in, thinking too many resolutions involved discussions of violence and humanity's technological advancements and the fall out to the ocean world.
So when there's a downer on the tail end of a conversation like that, Jared will do the next best thing he knows: pop in a DVD.
Sometimes the tactic works and sometimes it doesn't. Today, it isn't working so well: The Day of the Dolphin is on and the sight of George C. Scott in a summer suit trying to give commands to a dolphin while on one knee on the boat prow has Jensen staring blankly at the television.
Jared has the film on DVD along with many other sea related stories-there's the Disney staples: The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo. Then the family films like Flipper and Zeus and Roxanne. And the more adult fare, like Splash and The Big Blue. He even has all of the Free Willy movies, courtesy of Mike, who bought them for Jared as a joke. Which also included the porn rip-off: Free His Willy.
Jared is totally aware that his extensive collection of sea-related movies is ridiculous as a whole, especially since the films always seem to get the simplest of logistics or physics completely fucked, but since most of the films have talking animals, it's not like he can praise them for accuracy.
At least, not until recently, that is.
Jensen stretches, taking over as much of the couch as possible. His bare feet push hard against the meat of Jared's thigh, shoving up until Jared wriggles a little, trying to contend with a pushy Jensen as he eats the last slice of pizza. Learning to use his body and limbs is a slow going process and it's like Jensen stretches it out even further, a bend of his wrists or a pull of his strong, freckled forearms, this wonder he's showing at what his body can do.
There's a possibility that he could be doing this on purpose, but Jared's hoping he isn't.
"Humans have such weird ideas about dolphins," Jensen says after a stretch of rousing 70's orchestra music. Using dolphins as bomb carrying assassins is kind of weird, Jared has to agree. But it could be worse.
"Don't forget the dolphin spirit guide classes. People lay out a couple thousand dollars to become one with the dolphin spirits. Or the dolphin assisted births. Or like, all the people who think dolphins are really communicating with them and…" he pauses. "Um. You guys aren't really into doing that stuff, right?"
Jensen rolls his eyes before he sits up, no longer stretching down the length of the couch. "If there's one thing humans and cetaceans have in common, is that we'll do anything for a free meal. So, no, Jared, we're not communicating any secrets. There's no So Long and Thanks for All the Fish-"
"Hey, you've read Douglas Adams?"
"Required summer reading," Jensen says dismissively. "My tutor-uh, they loved teaching us human fiction."
A crack about schools of fish dies on Jared's tongue, because Jensen suddenly looks uncomfortable, his restless stretching turning into fidgeting. But Jared soldiers on, because all this talk about human relationships with the dolphins boils down to one question that he needs to know.
"Wait a minute, does that mean you guys fake training behaviors for the food?"
"Why doesn't Pa love Fa?" Jensen says, a blatant attempt to change the subject. He nods to the TV. "And training killer dolphins? Really? There's a reason why we have to hire out sharks for the royal guards."
That's new. And surprising. "Royal guards?"
"Well, uh," Jensen stammers, searching out another lie to skirt around the truth. "See there's this hierarchy and-" At this, Jensen gets up, exhaling in frustration. "It's an expression. It doesn't mean anything, and I should probably get going anyway. It's getting late."
It's only nine o'clock, Jared notes, but he turns off the DVD player and the cable news flips on. A monotonous, endless ramble of dialogue that fills in the awkward silence. He reaches up automatically, trying to tug Jensen back down easy and friendly. But his fingers circle Jensen's wrist, thumb running against the smooth skin, and Jared could swear static has gone off, the way Jensen jerks back and away.
"Hey, hey. Don't go yet."
He doesn't look down at Jared. He's looking at the TV, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow," and with that, he's stumbling out into the hallway and out the door.
The front door slams shut abruptly, with a news report with fuzzy, handheld footage of dark shapes in the water.
"…local wildlife experts estimate a forty percent increase in dolphin sightings off the Gulf Coast," the newscaster says.
Part 4
Part Three
"Taste and touch seem to be as sensitive as it is to humans, though personally, I think…" Jensen trails off. For the past half hour he's been poking at Jared's laptop, taking his first look at the internet. It's another fascinating device that he's happy to get his hands on, especially since it tells him just as much as Jared as anything else, given one look at Jared's browser history. His favorite foods, music, different humor sites. And different porn sites, by the looks of it.
Jensen is ready to list a few of said porn sites if it gets Jared to look up from his work, papers and books spread out on his desk.
Instead, he goes for a less embarrassing route, flicking a rolled up ball of paper at Jared's head. That gets him looking up, finally, better than the occasional grunt.
"Am I boring you?"
"No, you're not," Jared says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks tired, worn out. There's an urge in Jensen to reach out and touch him, see if he can try and alleviate some of the fatigue. "Sorry. I'm listening."
Jensen raises an eyebrow, moving the laptop aside to pick up the binder near Jared's arm, starting to flip through it. It's a collage of scribbles and photographs, a haphazard mix of enthusiasm towards cetacean life. Running his fingers over the taped up photos, Jensen can see pictures of himself, his old self, with notes written in the margins. Going back to the first few days when he arrived, mostly unconscious and out of his mind with pain.
Until Jared was there, always watching.
"This is impressive," Jensen says, looking up over to Jared, noticing his hopeful expression. "Is this the book you're writing?"
"It's nothing," Jared says, so quick it's as though it's automatic, dismissive of the whole thing. Jensen doesn't understand why; obviously Jared has put a lot of thought into it, as jumbled as it might seem.
"It doesn't look like nothing to me."
"Yeah, well, it's my hobby." Jared straightens, rubbing his eyes. "Man. I'm gonna go crazy staring at this stuff any more tonight."
Leaning forward, Jensen tries to make sense of all the paperwork laid out. "This stuff is?"
"There's been an unusual trend of dolphin sightings off the coast these past few months. Your rescue seems to be the start of the pattern," Jared explains, getting up from his chair. He perks up suddenly, nodding at Jensen. "Hey, you think you might want to come out to one of the rescues one of these days? I'm sure the others would love to have our very own 'dolphin whisperer' present."
It's a bit of information that has Jensen tense up, because he isn't quite sure why there'd be an increase in dolphins near shore.
But for one thing, he's pretty sure he's not going back to the ocean any time soon. It's confirmed by the "No!" he immediately blurts out. "I can't-I don't want to."
The strange look Jared gives Jensen is unavoidable, but he tries to change the subject, saying, "I'm not whispering. I'm talking to them. Asking them and… well, you've seen it."
"Oh yeah," Jared says. He grips the back of the chair edge, still energetic. "Look. How's about we grab some dinner and you can tell me all you want about..." Jared pauses.
"Taste and touch?" Jensen says, filling in the gap.
"Uh." Jared clears his throat, a slight reddening of his cheeks. "How about hearing and vision instead? The other senses."
"Sure," Jensen says. "Then we can get back to those later."
Jared doesn't answer this time; at least, not vocally, though the way he clears his throat indicates something, Jensen knows. He's becoming better at recognizing human tics each and every day.
*
For all the long hours in theater classes, lifeguard duty, and unpaid internships, Jared had never thought he would put them to use in a show that involved sequins and sea animals flying through the air.
In the past, he had expressed his wariness at the Viva! dolphin show they'd set up at San Antonio. Dancers and gymnasts were on hand to participate in the high flying acrobatics as dance music pounded through the chamber-like space, an echoing noise that only resulted in Jared getting a healthy dislike of uplifting Celine Dion music and canary yellow bodysuits.
Thankfully, at six foot four, Jared was a little too tall and too heavy to leap from swings fifty feet above the tanks.
The stripped-down dolphin show the park is currently doing, Blue Horizons, isn't as Vegas glam as Viva! had been. The Pacific Whitesided dolphins had been the stars of the Viva! show, the remaining Bottlenose dolphins sticking to the Dolphin Cove and feeding area.
This time, they get their spot in the limelight. There's still glitter and bodysuits-can't stop what works for the crowd-only now it's in shades of blues, greys, and whites, sweeping music echoing through the stadium. Oddly enough, it feels a little more in touch with the nature of the dolphins instead of the dazzling bold red hues of before.
Crazily, part of Jared wants to ask Jensen for his opinion on the different sets, but the headache involved might not be worth it.
Jared usually sticks to the simpler route, getting the dolphins to run through behaviors than emcee the shows. He'd get distracted running through scripted lines sometimes, preferring to have a one on one moment with the dolphin that he's training.
Sure, it's a one on one witnessed by hundreds of people, but the connection feels genuine, and the hokey dialogue sometimes puts a burn on that.
Except today, they need someone to fill in, because Alona is out sick with the flu. And, as luck-or stupidity-would have it, Jared is the natural choice. He's used to spur of the moment improvisation. Took the college class after all.
For a Friday afternoon, the audience is packed with families and teenagers, glittering sparkle of camera flashes as the music pounds.
Jared looks up the ladder to the high emcee platform on fake concrete plumes of water and ice, a good twenty or thirty feet above the deck. It's high, but he can deal with this. He's totally fine. Totally.
"How's the weather up there?" Mike says, clapping a hand on Jared's shoulder out of the blue.
Jared rolls his eyes, trying to cover up his jerk of surprise. "Ha, ha."
"You know, if you spent more time with the orcas, you'd be doing all the jumps and shit. Wouldn't have the height fear," Mike says. Petulantly, Jared wants to smack the Shamu costume head out Mike's hands.
"My specialty is dolphins, Mike."
"Orcas are in the Dolphin family, dumbass. Even I know that."
He looks smug. Jared not sure how Mike can convey smugness since he's in a whale costume, ready to do his dorky whale shuffle for the kids, but Mike's just talented that way.
It's the anticipation that's making him screw up, Jared reasons. It's slowly sucking oxygen and IQ points from his brain.
Mike squints, trying to peer out from the back area into the bright sunlight and stands. "Hey, have you talked to Jensen for some tips? Guy looks cool as a cucumber out there."
"Out where?"
His question is answered when the voice comes up on the speakers, above the loud echo of rock music that blasts before the show. The crowd cheers and dies down, a clear voice that Jared recognizes, one with a hint of Texan drawl that's been patterned on his own.
"Good afternoon, everyone! My name is Jensen, and I'm going to be your host today. I hope you're wearing protective, uh, clothes, because the first few rows might get a little wet!"
A few dozen feet across, back stage and safely out of view, is Katie, perking up from standing behind the scenes. She mouthing words to Jared, what's going on? He shrugs, eyes wide and unsure of what to say.
Keep calm, that's most important right now.
Jared mouths, let him, and Katie waves her hands in assent.
"Oh my God," Jared says.
But it's muffled by the cheers of the crowd as Jensen begins the show narration, flawless in delivery. He's eloquent, charming, and has just the right amount of humor that keeps the crowd rapt. The Bottlenose dolphins seem to listen to his orders more than those given by their own trainers-their actions are flawlessly smooth.
And that, in a way, is the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Jensen has been throwing Jared off all this time, this uncomfortable strain that's putting Jared on his last nerve, unable to find rhythm or reason. It isn't like he can't deal with him-he can, he really can, he just needs to find a way to push down that inevitable throb of want that rises in him, this need he feels to learn from him, but oh, to learn so much more than any talk about the ocean can achieve.
That's why this is impossible, because here Jensen is, throwing a wrench into things, the very center of what's shaking up Jared's life. What he can't control and what he wants desperately to get a handle on all of a sudden.
When there's a lull and the music blasts, each step that takes Jared towards Jensen is followed by pounding beats. It sets a thrum in his chest that gets his adrenaline going, hand gripping Jensen tight, barely letting him call his goodbyes. Applause follows their exit as they make their way downstairs to the tanks, rubber soled shoes slapping wet on the concrete.
Backstage behind the tanks for the show, the only light is a small hallway bulb above, and a wall of glass, bathing them both in a blue glow. Jared can feel anger radiating off him in waves, his jaw clenched tight and twitching.
"What the hell was that? What were you doing?" Jared asks him.
Jensen moves a hand out, as though he wants to reach out and touch, like physical contact will make everything better instantly. He fidgets instead. "I thought you'd want me to help you?"
"Yeah, but not like that-I didn't say do my job for me," Jared says, exhaling. He his hands ball into fists as he tries to keep his voice steady, trying to be as civilized as Jensen, his gaze unnaturally calm. Jared has a few inches on Jensen, but with Jensen's confident composure, not backing down, it's hard to feel that height gives him any advantage.
He's getting into Jensen's space now, breath hot and teeth bared, a flare of warmth firing up through Jared's chest, closer to Jensen. It's as though Jensen can pinpoint the exact pressure points that'll get Jared riled up, this low sound that he makes not a click or chatter, not any communication that Jared can translate.
It's a need, a feeling of wanting.
"You come here and talk to animals, and you act like it's so easy for you-and, and I don't know what to do. What game are you playing?" Jared asks, punctuates his question with a shove to Jensen's shoulder, almost relishing the glare he gets. Good. Get him angry, get him talking. "What do you need me for, then?"
"It's not easy for me either," Jensen says sharply. "I only woke up human a few days ago! I'm trying to do my best."
"I know," Jared snaps, his tone bitter. He pulls back from Jensen, moves to brace an arm against the glass. Trying to ignore the urge to look at Jensen, seeing the taught muscles of Jensen's broad shoulders, bold lines of blue and white streaking down his sides, highlighting his slim waist.
"Do you really understand?" Jensen says abruptly.
When Jared takes a step back, he can see Jensen's reflection in the glass, a ghostly face of blue.
"I'm weaker. Slower. I can't move the way I used to, I can't breathe the way I used to, and every single morning, I wake up after sleeping and dreaming of…" Jensen sucks in a breath, a pause that drags on forever. Jared feels annoyed at how fast his heart is hammering, how he feels himself sweat under the sheen of water still covering his body.
Trying to calm down isn't working.
"And every time I look at you…" Jensen trails off, roughshod in his voice, mouth wet, open. Jensen is no longer in the soft white light of the hallway, but the blue light of the tanks. He's moving closer to Jared, looking irritated and vulnerable, skin still wet and body shaking with anger.
"What?" Jared can feel himself saying, pulse thrumming in his ears, fuzzy echo of shoes on concrete as Jensen moves closer.
There's this hitch of noise, a low click, as Jensen surges forward, "All my body wants to do is react."
That's when he shoves against Jared, presses up and in. Eyes all wide, searching Jared's face, licking his lips, the pressure hot and dizzying. He murmurs, "I can't control it."
His eyes are too green and his mouth is too close.
Before Jared knows it, they're kissing each other, mouths hungry and hands searching for grip. It starts out fast and fumbling, this collision of lips, teeth clacking and bodies pressed against each other, hips slotting up just right.
It doesn't feel that as weird as Jared thinks it would. What it does feel is right, like Jensen's mouth was made for this, his kisses slow and achingly wonderful. It feels right, like everything locking into place. This is why Jensen's hands are shaped just so, to fit against Jared, to wrap around his arms, his biceps, pulling him closer. This is what Jensen's mouth was made for, lips pink and puffy, Jared's hand cupping his face and thumbing his cheekbones.
Jensen leans into Jared's touch, lifting his head to press up into Jared's space, to rub against the slow friction of Jared's wetsuit.
The outfit is tight enough to leave little to the imagination, and Jensen groans, as though the thought comes to him at the same time: off.
Jared tears a hand away from Jensen's hair, moving to cup the back of his neck. The better to pull him closer, because Jared wants, no, needs to taste the saltiness of Jensen's mouth.
And the better to start tugging at the wetsuit zipper.
Zipper finally caught, Jared drags it down. His hand moves to the small of Jensen's back, fingertips pressing deep, brushing smooth, raised skin. It's a scar, soft like of tissue that Jared is familiar with on a different body.
The smallest noises are coming out of Jensen now, needy and impatient, like he's had a taste and can't get enough, wanting more.
It's a first taste, the smooth line under Jared's fingers like a white hot reminder of reality.
How not right this is, because this cannot happen. Not now, not with Jensen.
He grunts, little puffs of breath against Jensen's lips, moan low and guttural as he pushes away.
"I can't-I'm sorry," Jared gasps, but Jensen keeps his hands on him, wanting that touch. Lingering, he jerks his head up to look at Jared, but it's not enough.
It's not enough to prevent Jared from running away.
*
The trick to a human body is how it manages to showcase exactly every embarrassing fault, which is guaranteed to occur at the worst possible moment. It's accident-prone, it's dry and clumsy, surging with urges and hormones that feel as though it will never be satisfied. Whenever Jared is around, the feeling is magnified, concentrated into this breathless and hyperactive need to please and entertain rather than claim and take.
It makes Jensen want to court Jared the old-fashioned way. Whatever that means.
Kissing a human turns out to be less weird than Jensen thought it would be. He's never kissed anyone before, never thought about the repercussions, that he can't think clearly, that his body, god, this body.
It's a swipe of Jared's tongue that undoes him, his warmth and energy and everything distinctly his, his scent lingering on Jensen's mouth and skin. The taste of Jared stays with Jensen for a few minutes afterwards as he tries to collect himself, the fuzzy echo of music dissipating behind him as he moves through the hallway. He's dazed, unable to try to look out for himself let alone look out for Jared.
He wants more of Jared's mouth, his hands, his cock, everything. He wants it, now, definitely wants him, wants to explore his very human body and learn just what spots to press and lick and touch. But with Jared running away, and the look on his face as he left, that's-that's something Jensen doesn't want. What he needs is time to explain himself, and then Jared will understand. He'll see.
Jensen always gets what he wants. He just needs to narrow his focus.
The only thing Jensen doesn't get, though, is a moment of peace, because that's when the nearby janitor's closet door opens and a mop whizzes by his nose, clattering to the floor.
"Shit!" Jensen shouts.
Chad steps out of the closet, fumbling to prop up the mops, brooms, bottles and other items threatening to tumble out. His eyes are wide, like a fish in a shark's line of sight, a brief moment of terror before he relaxes when he sees that it's Jensen.
Oddly enough, Jensen feels a little annoyed that he doesn't have Chad cowering still, but there are more pressing matters to deal with, such as Chad stepping out of a closet.
"What are you doing here?" Chad asks, closing the door behind him. "And why are you wearing that outfit? You look ridiculous."
"I could ask you the same thing!" Jensen snaps, wiping his face. Breathes in and out and tries to push past the afterglow that has him honestly mooning over a kiss. And he hasn't even had sex with Jared yet. That line of thinking does nothing to calm him down. "I finished doing the dolphin show. What were you doing in there?"
Chad opens and closes his mouth, snapping it shut before blurting out the truth. Hesitating, he lies, "Um, cleaning?"
"'Cleaning'," Jensen repeats, his voice coming out ragged and short, and he can feel that burst of adrenaline leaving him. It makes him whine low in his throat, leaning back against the nearest wall, this impatient, needy shimmy of his hips and waist.
"You smell like sex for real this time. What were you doing?" Chad says.
"Uhhh," Jensen stammers.
Actually, it's a credit to his brain that he can manage to translate anything into human right now, because in reality, all he wants to do is moan.
So he does, for another second, which is all the translation that Chad needs. His friend nods, eyes narrowing, and sums it up, saying, "Did you mount him?"
"No, Chad." Jensen takes a breath and straightens up, mumbling. "He ran away."
"Oh, that bites."
"Tell me about it," Jensen says, not even bothering to let Chad speak, because he can't take any jokes or any fun at his expense right now because he's hard and needy and it sucks.
"He ran, and what am I going to do? He's angry, and he's so… he gets all riled up, and I don't want to drive him away and-I don't know how to do this."
By now, Chad's rubbing his chin, blond stubble growing in. "Think I got a way to take your mind off of things. The party's tonight, remember?"
"Party?" Jensen's eyes widen. "What party?"
"Well, that's up to you to find out," Chad says, looking pleased as hell when he smiles, edging back to the closet. "It's all in the plan, dude. Go after Jared now. I bet he's waiting in the parking lot for you. I mean, he is your ride back and he's not gonna leave you high and dry. I'll meet you guys back at Jared's house."
With that, he's back in the closet and Jensen's dick has finally managed to go soft at the thought of the tense ride back to the house.
*
Jared knows that hiding out in the Penguin Encounter exhibit is by no means the best plan for avoiding Jensen. He uses the excuse of checking on the exhibit's residents. Coincidentally, he may be trying to will away the biggest hard-on he's had in recent memory. Jared would never get over the memory (or the thought that these penguins would take one look and know what he did, especially the Southern Rockhopper penguin out on that rock cropping).
However, staying later than normal and hiding out only results in being the last to leave and it turns out that Jensen doesn't have a ride home.
Jared doesn't need to hear him ask; once Jensen walked into the habitat, the knowledge hit Jared. The knowledge that there's more of this, and he's a grown man sulking in an animal exhibit.
Jensen jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I need a ride. If that's-if that's okay."
"Did you-" Jared gestures with a hand, this awkward space between them. Right in the middle of a damn penguin exhibit, dozens of pairs of tiny eyes looking at them both. "I was checking up on the birds."
"Right," Jensen says. He cocks his head towards the penguins and puffins. "I've never seen you work with them before."
"Maybe because I had my hands full before!" Jared says abruptly, feeling a twinge of guilt when he moves past Jensen to the employee area.
"With me," Jensen says under his breath.
*
Any plans Jared had for his night at home researching, avoiding, and trying not to be completely awkward around Jensen is ruined once he reaches his house and is unable to park. Which is due to the myriad of cars and SUVs parked out on the curb and driveway. The front yard and house are teeming with people, loud music blasting as they carry on conversations over cans of beer and cups of whatever else they're drinking.
Jared remembers that all the other trainers had left work earlier, claiming they were busy when he asked them why. Judging by the familiar cars in the driveway, it looks like they did have somewhere to go.
Jared looks at Jensen, getting a wide-eyed stare in return. "Do you know something about this?"
Getting out of the truck, Jensen shrugs, hands in his pockets. "Chad?"
Jared frowns at the answer as he and Jensen start to navigate through the crowd and into the house.
Inside of the house the place is alive with even louder music, and a good share of people from the park. For the most part, Jared doesn't recognize many of them. Some are cheery, some are rapt in their own conversations, barely acknowledging Jared's awkward, tight smile as he moves past them.
However, he does recognize the people sitting around Chad in the living room-replace the SeaWorld gift shop staff shirts with party clothes and you have Chad's co-workers: Sophia, Danneel, Hilarie, James and the rest, all laughing at one of Chad's stories.
Jensen lets out a high pitched whistle near Jared's ear, making him wince and jump.
He's not the only one; Chad jumps to attention, excusing himself to come over. He's in loud Hawaiian swim trunks and aviator shades and absolutely nothing else.
"Hey," Chad says.
This time it's Jensen who looks pissed off. "'Hey'?"
Chad slings his arms around the two of them, alcohol on his breath making Jared wonder if he's doing it out of friendship or because he needs actual bodily support. "Welcome, my friends. Thought you forgot about the party!"
"Party?" Jensen asks, incredulously.
"You didn't say anything about a party! And not in my-in the house I'm supposed to be taking care of!" Jared exclaims. He swears he just heard glass breaking, wincing at the noise. It could be his heart pounding, because he still has Jensen by his elbow, looking at the crowd curiously.
"Yeah, uh, I think I'll go get a drink. Looks like you two need some time alone!" Chad says, all spry as he maneuvers into the crowd. "You'll thank me later!"
Right, because now that Chad has left, Jared is alone with Jensen.
Even though his house is filled to the brim with people, with Jensen standing nearby, Jared feels like the whole world could fall away. Because what happened back at the park, that isn't real. It can't be. It's a freak accident, a rush of adrenaline, whatever it is, Jared will deny it.
Jensen jerks his head in the direction of the backyard, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. "Do you want to go outside?"
"Yeah," Jared manages to say, bristling when some strangers knock past him, probably getting more drinks. Oh man. He really hopes there's not like a keg in the kitchen. Cleaning that up is going to be a nightmare. "That sounds great."
Walking out onto the patio feels more like coming up from air, no longer facing the crushing pressure of people. Outside the backyard is lit with strands of lights crossing above the pool, sending shimmering reflections on the surface. The group of people outside talk and laugh quietly, mostly couples enthralled in each other's company.
It's still too crowded for Jared's tastes, so he finds shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to talk.
Again, Jensen takes initiative. That initiative being how he starts to strip his clothes, faster than before, like he's used to the breadth of his shoulders and reach of his arms, settling into this new body.
"Hold on a second," Jared starts to stay, grabbing for him, looking around. "No stripping in public, remember?"
"I want to try out the pool," Jensen says, and that's how two minutes later he's standing on the diving board, stripped down to his boxers.
Jensen is all smooth, lean muscle. He'd have the perfect swimmer's build save for the fact that his shoulders aren't wide, but his waist is narrow enough for Jared to imagine how Jensen would fit perfectly between his thighs.
Jensen hesitates for a moment, testing the bounce of the board before he's doing a backwards flip into the pool, twisting at the end of it to hit the water in a belly flop, limbs akimbo.
Turns out not all of Jensen's sleek movements remain intact.
He's wincing though, which makes Jared automatically dash over, resting on his haunches near the edge of the pool. "Jensen, you all right?"
"I'm good, I'm good," Jensen says, looking every other way but Jared's face. Trying his best to look nonchalant, though Jared knows he must feel at least a little embarrassed and probably stinging from the hard slap of the water. He's so different from his usual cocky show-off self that Jared can't help but laugh.
"You think this is funny?" Jensen grumps. "How your kind is able to dive from those tall heights without breaking something, I'll never know."
"It's cool, dude. You're not Michael Phelps," Jared is able to get out between giggles, laughing even more when Jensen gets that starry look in his eyes.
"Neither are you," Jensen says, paddling back. "The water's fine."
"Nah, I'm good."
"I didn't say you had a choice," Jensen says, edge of mischief to his voice as he lurches up, trying to latch on to Jared. It's rushed and clumsy, getting a kneecap, his wrist, enough momentum to send Jared crashing into the pool, clothes and all.
The sudden shock and cold of the water takes a second or two to recover from, wiping his hair back, water stinging his eyes and nose. But it's a welcomed shock to the system, even if he can hear gasps of surprise and laughter from the pool deck-to everyone else, it's a prank, but to him, it's a place that's familiar and comforting. For a moment, anyway, because where he'd usually swim a few laps to take his mind off things, now a few strokes take him to Jensen's side, the person at the center of his inner meltdown.
It's not fair that he should feel so at home and so fucking screwed at the same time, because here Jensen is in his element, looking pleased and just as comfortable as Jared is, all clumsiness melting away.
Jared has become suddenly, almost painfully aware at how close they are, light playing along the angles of Jensen's face and bare shoulders. The water is up to mid shoulder, temperature just a shade warmer than Jared is used to in comparison to the cooler waters of the park. They're almost alone. Hell, they pretty much are alone, because none of the partygoers are that nearby, none of them care to notice what's going on between Jared and Jensen.
Jared clears his throat, treading water. "I'm sorry for freaking out at you earlier."
He isn't exactly sorry, because well, he's got a valid reason to be freaked out. Making out with someone that's actually not human is pretty high on the list of reasons to be freaked out. And then there's that tinge of, well, if he wants to put a finger on it, he can chalk it up to jealousy. Barely two weeks and already Jensen's doing well for himself, and isn't that messed up, that Jared can't be happy for him?
Or that Jared can be, but it's a little hard to concentrate on his own work when he's got someone like Jensen around, looking the way he looks and acting the way he does.
"I liked kissing you," Jensen says bluntly, then he scowls, annoyed with himself. "Sorry, I just-I really like you, Jared. I'm not used to this. It's hard for me to control myself in this body."
Ending this before it starts feels like the safest and best option, but he can feel himself waver, unable to say it. The party noises are drowned out, now, this easy back and forth that's comfortable, for once, not completely awkward. Because it's only them now.
"Yeah, I can see that. But you can't just like… jump on me. I still want you to respect me in the morning," Jared jokes, grimacing at the sound of it.
Jensen frowns. "Humans don't respect each other after they've had sex?"
"Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Jumping the gun there, buddy!" Jared says, his voice breaking. He's this close to swallowing a mouthful of water. "No sex!"
"But that's what you do, right? To be close with one another," Jensen says, slowly, as though explaining it to Jared. He can feel himself bristling at how easy Jensen makes it sound.
"Yeah, that's what everyone does. It's natural, but I like to get to know someone first. Before. Going to that place." That sounds even lamer speaking it than thinking it.
"Oh," Jensen says, his voice low, and then he perks up. "Do you want me to court you?"
Jared is suddenly reminded of old traditions, prim and proper men and ladies, a weird image as he's trying to keep afloat. Ignoring the crease of worry between Jensen's brows, Jared says, "Sort of. You have to know this is weird, all right?"
"Of course it's weird. I'm not an idiot."
"Yeah, but-" Jared sighs. "It's not-it's not like. Here. Let's see if I can explain. I read this myth the other night that might sound familiar. In my research, trying to figure out-well, what happened to you, I came across this thing from Brazil."
Jensen hums in interest and Jared tries not to stare at the soft wetness of his mouth. "Yeah?"
"Some South Americans believe in the Encantado myth. It means 'enchanted one.' It's about dolphins that have the ability to turn into humans. They come onto shore and romance townspeople," Jared murmurs, feeling his breath hitch as Jensen moves closer.
"They don't let up. They enchant and haunt the ones they want to be with. They're said to kidnap those they fall in love with to bring them back to the Encante. Their underwater paradise."
Closing his eyes, Jared can feel the puff of Jensen's breath, the steady beat of his chest, a hand coming up to wrap around Jensen's bicep. It's easy to stay like this, to get lost in the closeness of Jensen's body and the softness of his voice. It's as though the feeling he gets out of training and being close to the dolphins is infused in this, only the purest thoughts and fuck, when it comes down to it? He's hard and aching for Jensen's mouth, like having a taste of it again will explain everything he's always wanted to know about the ocean.
The water weaves and bobs, eyelevel changing before Jared uses the momentum to lean forward, lips brushing Jensen's in a soft kiss.
This time, it tastes sweet.
It's chaste and wet, cut short when Jensen's pulling back and looking up, confused. "Oh, shit."
Jared's about to ask why he's stopped but that when the background noise comes into prominence again, the world back in focus and it's when he can hear the screams.
"There's a walrus in the hot tub!"
*
Ten minutes later the party is mostly cleared out, the stragglers whispering about some "dumb" or "kick ass" prank, depending on who's doing the talking. The refuse left in their wake leaves the house looking like a hurricane blew through: cups, paper plates, crushed chips and other strange objects that remind Jensen of the audience stands after a dolphin show, right before the stadium cleanup. Only this time the show ends with a full grown male walrus sitting in the hot tub connected to the pool, scowling at Jensen and Jared.
Jensen lets out a low whistle, trying to keep his focus on the sight in front of him and not how red Jared's face is getting. "Chad?"
'Who else?' Chad growls. 'They thought I pranked them. The girls went to change for the tub, they left for a minute and I got in and then it-it just happened, okay, I didn't mean to change back! Totally blew my fucking night.'
The hard-on in Jensen's boxers reminds him that it isn't only Chad's night that's been blown. Nearly making a fool of himself belly-flopping into the pool, yeah, that blows. But he'd been so close and his second chance at getting Jared-at getting to fuck Jared, body aching for it-is gone. The worst thing isn't the stinging pain of his belly or the wilting hard-on. It's how Chad cockblocked him.
Jensen frowns. "Did you break the hot tub?"
'No.' Chad sounds offended. 'I knew it, Jensen. You think all walruses are fat.'
Meanwhile, Jared is standing there flabbergasted and really red in the face. He's panicking, pushing his wet bangs off his forehead, all the coy and shyness of the moment before is gone.
Worry doesn't look good on Jared, Jensen thinks. He wants nothing more than to make Jared happy, and yet here they are, intruding and possibly wrecking the house Jared's watching over. Jensen is about to apologize when Jared's posture straightens, as though he's pushing down the panic and anger to clear his thoughts.
Taking control of the situation, Jared moves closer to the edge of the hot tub. "Can you coax him out? Let's try doing that rather than lifting."
"Chad hasn't responded well to authority in the past," Jensen says, folding his arms as Chad does a little shuffle towards the steps leading out of the tub.
'Yeah, tell him about the time where I helped you bail on royal guards and nearly got half my ass chewed out by the fuckin' shark patrol. Tell him about that!'
"Those sharks can suck my dick," Jensen snaps, adding, "Long story," when Jared gives him a look of surprise.
It's then that the water starts bubbling and foaming, Jared calling, "Chad, did you hit the button?"
But it's not the hot tub jets. It's magic, the same swirls and sparks of light that Jensen vaguely remembers, confirmed when Chad steps out of the pool, a wet, shivering human.
The bright Hawaiian trunks Chad had on have stretched out so far that they pool around his ankles, right as he flexes his toes and fingers like he's getting used to being human again.
"Whoa. Thought I was back for a minute." Chad snatches up the loose swim trunks before he good-naturedly claps Jared on the shoulder. "Thanks for having my back. Sorry about the tub."
Chad passes by Jensen, leaning in close and sarcastically whispering, "Your majesty." The he heads back into the house like nothing happened.
*
Battening down the hatches against the attractions of a fascinating, handsome man seems like going against his better judgment for Jared.
But there's never been a case-not that Jared knows of-of an interested potential boyfriend that used to be, well, not human. There are tales of mermaids, selkies, sirens, and the Encantado, the kind of magic Jared spent many an afternoon reading about when he was little-and many a recent night trying to research-whenever he wanted to get his hands on anything that could explain the magical pull of the ocean. And in all these tales, the magical beings would lure men to the ocean's depths, or in some cases, to their deaths. So far, it seems like Jensen has the purest of intentions.
Pure, to an extent, that is. Because Jensen has a tendency to stare, his gaze lingering as though he's sizing Jared up for the taking.
It's a slow, torturous tease because they're living together and sharing the same space, and Jared has to be the one teaching Jensen about the smallest things:
What to wear-and watch Jensen strip quickly before Jared can even turn around and look away discreetly.
How to eat-feeling Jensen's thumb rub slow, small circles on the back of Jared's hand as he shows him how to hold a fork and knife properly.
When to shave-cupping Jensen's jaw with his palm when he's nicked himself too many times, swiping a finger under Jensen's cheekbone and feeling his trusting gaze the entire time.
It's too close, enough so that it becomes hard to deny when Jared is shucking down his jeans and boxers in the bathroom, grabbing his cock and pumping quickly, Jensen's face readily coming to mind.
And now, after what happened, Jared knows it's being too close, because he knows the looks Jensen gives him after those bathroom sessions have another edge to them-not curiosity, but knowing, knowing what he's doing later on, that he's jerking off, and that Jensen has heard all of it. And now, Jared knows Jensen wants the same thing.
It's not going to eat him up inside. It's just not.
It'll eat up his sanity, though, so that's why the sudden twang of the metal locker door shutting nearby has him on edge, jumping at the noise.
Jared braces an arm against the small door frame, shaking his head. "Warn a guy, would you?"
"Great party the other night," Aldis says, zipping up his wetsuit and moving to sit down on the low bench. "When Chad told us you were doing something, I thought he was lying! No way you'd pull that. How'd you get that walrus at the end? Was it animatronic or something? Now that's how you end a party!"
"I guess," Jared says distractedly, the collar of his wetsuit suddenly feeling too hot and tight. He spins around, plasters on a smile and shrugs. "I know people who know people?"
Yeah, he's real great at lying his ass off. Once Aldis raises an eyebrow, Jared goes on to mumble about special effects houses when the room starts filling up slowly, trainers and workers trickling in.
"What's up?" Brock says enthusiastically, giving Jared a high five. "That party was a blast!"
"Glad you had fun," Jared responds automatically, biting back the urge to say, because I spent most of it trying to keep a raging hard-on in check. Instead, he says, "You still need to check up on Spirit today, Brock. She's not being responsive to your commands. It could be that she's sick."
"Should've named her 'Complacent'," Brock grumbles.
"Brock, check on her. I can't be responsible for everyone and everything," Jared snaps, harsher than he intends it to be. Brock's eyebrows shoot up and there's this moment of uneasiness that descends as they get dressed for the day.
The other trainers are being careful around Jared, like they know he's in some kind of mood-and that's the thing, he isn't really, he just needs to get his head back into his routine of working and researching again.
Mostly because he'd rather do research of other parts of Jensen's anatomy but that's not the point.
Then again, the point could just be that Jared's screwed, scent of dead fish hitting his nostrils as he makes his way to food prep. Perfect.
*
"I don't understand humans, Jeff," Jensen says, legs pulled up and his arms bracing his knees as he stares at the thick glass wall of the orca tank. The water is deep blue, the pale dark blur of "Winchester" or rather of his friend Jeffrey behind the glass, calling back to him through the water.
Understanding animal speech in this body takes getting used to, but Jensen's more than willing to accept the challenge. It's a voice without sound at all, an echo of a voice in Jensen's brain, sounding fuzzy and unintelligible at first until he concentrates. Sorts out the words and then it's clear, it's talking, telling, admonishing-
'So what, he didn't fall all over you at the first chance? You might be a prince, but that doesn't mean you're always going to have everything handed over to you. Tough luck,' Jeff says, his gruff rumble comforting. He turns in the tank, peering out at Jensen with one eye. 'They're not like us, you know.'
"Yeah, I've figured that out," Jensen says. "Doesn't help that Jared thinks I'm some kind of weirdo."
'Well, you are. Walkin' around on those funny legs. I'd say you're a weirdo.'
A plume of air shoots up from Jeff, the spray of water cold and refreshing against Jensen's face and legs. Batting at the lanyard of his guest credential, Jeff starts talking again, slowly swimming back and forth across the wide berth of the tank. 'You know how they are-they need to be taught just as much as they try to teach us.'
Jensen sighs. "But I don't have the time to teach him, that's the problem."
He shuts up and forces a smile, seeing Mike coming down the stairs to the stadium, this awkward shuffle of costumed feet as he hops down the last few steps. Holding the fuzzy killer whale mascot head on his hip, Mike looks to Jensen and the tank, confused.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Je-uh, just Winchester," Jensen replies, getting to his feet. For a second he feels a pang of guilt, like he's been caught. But then reason comes in, as Mike as no idea what he is, or what's going on. "Talking to him, that's all."
Mike's smiling at him now, but Jensen recognizes the feeling behind it-it's not meeting his eyes and it's strained, an okay, weird feeling behind it, before Mike's nodding to the tank. "Pretty one-sided conversation though."
"Oh, he's talking back. You're just not listening correctly."
Jensen can hear Jeff sighing in the background. 'Great, here we go…'
"Really, you think so?" Mike asks, and the suspicious demeanor drops. "Because I always thought the theories about interspecies communication have merit to them, you know?"
Jensen nods carefully. "They do."
"And since I try to go Method here, it's better to communicate and learn, try to be one with the orca. We talk all the time," Mike says enthusiastically.
'Yeah. All the time. Ask him when was the last time he gave me some fish! Go ahead!' Jeff growls. 'Ask him!'
Jensen thinks it's a testament to Jeff's patience that he hasn't dumped a few hundred gallons of water on Mike with one wave of his tail over the years. Especially since if Jensen had to hear this kind of adulation on a daily basis, he might go insane.
"…I even thought about trying out for the Moby Dick at the dinner theater playhouse in town, but that's so beneath me, you know?" Mike says, just as Jensen can spy a welcome and handsome face entering the stadium.
It's Jared, and his eyes dart away from them so that he's bowing his head down and plowing across the water-clogged walkway, long legs and arms snug in the black and blue wetsuit that leaves little to the imagination, every muscle and curve outlined. There's a bucket that's no doubt heavy with fish in one of his hands, but at the speed he's going, it looks like it weighs nothing at all. He's hightailing past them, past Jensen.
"Jared!" Jensen excuses himself from Mike and rushes over, standing in front of Jared to stop him from plowing ahead any further.
"I've got to go to the sea lions. Food," Jared says, waving the bucket, sounds of fish squishy and wet. "Don't have time to talk right now."
"Then make time," Jensen says playfully. It's enough to send Jared back a step, his shoulders slouching as the tension dissipates, and now it's just the two of them-no charged moments, no kissing, just talking, like they need to do.
Jensen lowers his voice, "I don't want to scare you away. Even though I-"
"Really want to fuck me?" Jared supplies.
"Well, when you put it that way," Jensen sighs. Jared is dry and his hair is a little fluffy, tangles that Jensen wishes he could reach out and straighten. Every urge in his body towards Jared is to touch; it's what dolphins do, and what he wants to do. It's how they live and communicate.
Only he's not one of them now. And neither is Jared.
"I'll move out then," Jensen says. "I don't want to be any more of a distraction to you."
"What?" Something twists in Jensen's belly to see the look Jared gives him, confused and crushed all at once. "You don't have to-"
"No, I really do," Jensen breaks in. "I'll be fine. I think I know where to go. And we can still talk and… do all that, without it being weird all the time."
Taking this in, Jared starts to nod slowly, and there it is, what Jensen's desperately missed and needs to see: a smile, a real genuine one. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. We can take it slow. See how it goes."
This would be the point where Chad would helpfully suggest he add "in my pants," but Jensen only smiles in return. It's infectious, this smiling thing, the shifts and quirks of his face sliding wonderfully into place.
It's a smile that lasts until he asks, "So, sea lions?" and Jared nods.
"Want to help?"
'Did he just say sea lions?' Jeff interrupts, powerful strokes of his tail sending water lapping up against the walls, overflowing to drench their calves and feet. 'He's going to go talk to the lunchables over you! What kind of human is that, Jensen?'
Jensen eyes the tank. 'Shut up, Jeff.'
Jared eyes their exchange with mild interest. "Did he just say something to you?"
"Yeah, he wanted to know about the luncha…" Jensen trails off. Instinctively, he rolls his shoulders, this embarrassed shrug. "Um, he calls the sea lions 'lunchables.' It's a long story."
Jared smiles. "I've got time."
*
It's a good morning. They talk, about Jeff, the sea lions, whether or not Mike's ready for dinner theater. Jared gets in the tank and greets the visitors at the Cove, his mood lifting as he grins and rattles off facts and deals with questions from the visitors, some personal ("Do you smell like fish all the time?") and some strictly concerning the dolphins ("Do they drink water?"). When he answers, Jared's whole face lights up, grinning from ear to ear.
The downside to moving out turns out to be that he's relying on his backup plan, and that backup plan consists of Chad.
He says goodbye to Jared around lunchtime, all set to swing by the gift shop and relay Chad the news about him moving out.
Jared bites his lip as he bobs in the water. He pushes his hair back, saying, "You'll swing by later, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen says, craning his head to look up over Jared's shoulder. In the distance, Jim stands in the doorway to the employee quarters, arms folded and anger on his face. He nods to Jensen, glance furtive and urgent. "Later."
Jensen ambles over to where Jim's standing, offering a warm smile that soon fades as he approaches, Jim glaring at him.
"Mornin' your majesty," Jim says, grabbing him by the shoulder and tugging him towards the hallway.
It's instinct that has Jensen jerking away, scrambling to come up with some cover-up, playing dumb might work, but-
"Oh, don't start, boy. I know about you," Jim says. "You're treading water, Jensen. You shouldn't have done it in the first place."
"What are you talking about?" Jensen asks, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice.
"You know what," Jim says, scanning the area. He's standing a little too close, bill of his cap down and covering his whisper as he says, "The spell that damn turtle put on you and your 'cousin'."
Jensen swallows. "Misha wasn't-"
"Let's talk about this elsewhere," Jim interrupts. The last thing Jensen wants is to follow this guy, because bad, bad things can happen now. His secret's out, and who's to say Jim won't tell it to the nearest human, or those reporters, like on the television-
The fourth door down from the Assistant Supervisor's office is where they end up, the janitor's closet. Jim applies pressure on the right side panel, behind a bucket and some grimy mops.
And then the back wall of the janitor's closet slides open into what looks like an apartment.
Taking a step in, Jensen notices that the space looks like a room sealed away behind the park offices, old storage and employee lounges. Sections of the walls and furniture look years, maybe decades old, with boxy wooden surfaces, lava lamps, and plastic-covered couches.
Chad is sitting on one of these covered couch taking drinking a beer and watching Flipper on a surprisingly nice flat-screen TV.
Jensen doesn't get a chance to question him, because Jim cuffs him on the back of the head, telling him to close his mouth and pay attention.
"Oww!" Jensen winces. "Sorry."
"I used to be like you," Jim says. "Until I transitioned and decided to stay on land."
"You what?" Jensen asks. It's surprising, but it makes sense at the same time, pieces slotting into place. He can feel himself getting breathless, a million questions coming to him at once. "Wait, were you sent here to watch over me?"
Jim scowls at him. Or, well, scowls more at him. "Hell no, that's your buddy over there's job. But I took one look at the two of you and I knew there was something up. Made sure the paperwork cleared, can never trust a turtle to do all the work. I kept an eye on you both until I could figure out what you were up to."
"Jared," Jensen says softly. "I told him I was going to move out."
Apparently it's worthy enough for Chad to take a listen, since the TV goes on pause, Flipper hanging in midair.
"Awesome! Roomies!" Chad says putting his fist in the air. "C'mon, let's bump fists. It's fun."
Jensen isn't really sure what to do with that.
"Things between Jared and me are awkward right now," Jensen explains, sitting down on a one of the couches.
"Yeah, that's what happens when you're in love, you stupid ass," Jim says when they're all settled in the sitting area. "You know, you gotta tell Jared who you are. The whole shebang."
Jensen laughs a little, shakily. "You think he'll understand?"
"Won't know until you try," Jim points out.
The plastic slides and sticks against Jensen, this uneasy surface discomforting to him at first; but he sinks in, and tries to sort out his thoughts.
It's actually a little comforting to speak to someone who isn't Chad about the whole thing, because as much as Chad will lay out his own opinions to Jensen, it's not the outside perspective he thinks might benefit him. When it comes down to it, Jensen is still higher up on the hierarchical chain, and Chad will still be his attendant.
Jim, however, is none of those things. He won't defer to Jensen just because of the royal status he holds.
"You can stay here for now. The couches are all pull-outs. Just don't pester me when I'm sleeping."
"You don't mind sleeping?" Jensen asks. "I'm sorry to pry, but doesn't it feel wrong, going fully unconscious like that?"
"You get used to it," Jim says, leaning back into the couch, faint crackle of plastic. "Now, first rule is no going around telling people about this secret apartment, you got it? Second, I don't care that you're the crown prince of the seven seas-"
"Actually I'm-"
"Boy, don't you interrupt me." Jim side-eyes Chad for a long moment and Chad reluctantly takes his feet off the coffee table. "Now, house rules are that everyone recycles. Chad'll explain how to sort out what recyclables go where. Any questions?"
There's a hundred that come to mind, easy, but he waits too long and Jim nods, saying, "Great. This episode of Flipper is my favorite."
*
With Jensen moving out, Jared is able to breathe a little easier in the house. No longer would he have to panic after finding Jensen wandering around naked early in the morning. There's enough space between them to not worry about getting up in each other's faces, or any pent-up frustrations starting to build. Jared doesn't have to worry about what Jensen is wearing or what he's eating, because he's a grown ma-well, he's a grown adult, and Jared should not have to mind him all the time.
Jensen says he's staying with Chad now, and Jared doesn't ask him where exactly that would be. Maybe he should, but Jensen is always first to arrive and last to leave at the park, a spectacle of endless enthusiasm and serious concern that's shaking up Jared's work experience. It isn't like he's been bored, exactly, with his work, but with Jensen being here, it's refreshing.
It makes more sense to invite Jensen over to the house like he's a coworker and all Jared wants is to hang out with him, just like having a buddy around. Sure, having a private space to talk is the main excuse, seeing as Jensen gets all animated and excited, with hand gestures no less when talking about a world no human has ever seen nor properly understood. Jared doesn't want to rein him in and have him feel awkward at the park or around other trainers.
When they aren't talking about dolphin behavior, they're talking about human behavior, and sometimes these conversations take turns for the philosophical, with Jensen always wanting to know why people behave the way they do. More often than not, Jensen comes out looking more disappointed than before he went in, thinking too many resolutions involved discussions of violence and humanity's technological advancements and the fall out to the ocean world.
So when there's a downer on the tail end of a conversation like that, Jared will do the next best thing he knows: pop in a DVD.
Sometimes the tactic works and sometimes it doesn't. Today, it isn't working so well: The Day of the Dolphin is on and the sight of George C. Scott in a summer suit trying to give commands to a dolphin while on one knee on the boat prow has Jensen staring blankly at the television.
Jared has the film on DVD along with many other sea related stories-there's the Disney staples: The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo. Then the family films like Flipper and Zeus and Roxanne. And the more adult fare, like Splash and The Big Blue. He even has all of the Free Willy movies, courtesy of Mike, who bought them for Jared as a joke. Which also included the porn rip-off: Free His Willy.
Jared is totally aware that his extensive collection of sea-related movies is ridiculous as a whole, especially since the films always seem to get the simplest of logistics or physics completely fucked, but since most of the films have talking animals, it's not like he can praise them for accuracy.
At least, not until recently, that is.
Jensen stretches, taking over as much of the couch as possible. His bare feet push hard against the meat of Jared's thigh, shoving up until Jared wriggles a little, trying to contend with a pushy Jensen as he eats the last slice of pizza. Learning to use his body and limbs is a slow going process and it's like Jensen stretches it out even further, a bend of his wrists or a pull of his strong, freckled forearms, this wonder he's showing at what his body can do.
There's a possibility that he could be doing this on purpose, but Jared's hoping he isn't.
"Humans have such weird ideas about dolphins," Jensen says after a stretch of rousing 70's orchestra music. Using dolphins as bomb carrying assassins is kind of weird, Jared has to agree. But it could be worse.
"Don't forget the dolphin spirit guide classes. People lay out a couple thousand dollars to become one with the dolphin spirits. Or the dolphin assisted births. Or like, all the people who think dolphins are really communicating with them and…" he pauses. "Um. You guys aren't really into doing that stuff, right?"
Jensen rolls his eyes before he sits up, no longer stretching down the length of the couch. "If there's one thing humans and cetaceans have in common, is that we'll do anything for a free meal. So, no, Jared, we're not communicating any secrets. There's no So Long and Thanks for All the Fish-"
"Hey, you've read Douglas Adams?"
"Required summer reading," Jensen says dismissively. "My tutor-uh, they loved teaching us human fiction."
A crack about schools of fish dies on Jared's tongue, because Jensen suddenly looks uncomfortable, his restless stretching turning into fidgeting. But Jared soldiers on, because all this talk about human relationships with the dolphins boils down to one question that he needs to know.
"Wait a minute, does that mean you guys fake training behaviors for the food?"
"Why doesn't Pa love Fa?" Jensen says, a blatant attempt to change the subject. He nods to the TV. "And training killer dolphins? Really? There's a reason why we have to hire out sharks for the royal guards."
That's new. And surprising. "Royal guards?"
"Well, uh," Jensen stammers, searching out another lie to skirt around the truth. "See there's this hierarchy and-" At this, Jensen gets up, exhaling in frustration. "It's an expression. It doesn't mean anything, and I should probably get going anyway. It's getting late."
It's only nine o'clock, Jared notes, but he turns off the DVD player and the cable news flips on. A monotonous, endless ramble of dialogue that fills in the awkward silence. He reaches up automatically, trying to tug Jensen back down easy and friendly. But his fingers circle Jensen's wrist, thumb running against the smooth skin, and Jared could swear static has gone off, the way Jensen jerks back and away.
"Hey, hey. Don't go yet."
He doesn't look down at Jared. He's looking at the TV, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow," and with that, he's stumbling out into the hallway and out the door.
The front door slams shut abruptly, with a news report with fuzzy, handheld footage of dark shapes in the water.
"…local wildlife experts estimate a forty percent increase in dolphin sightings off the Gulf Coast," the newscaster says.
Part 4