Real Person Fic - CW: The Castaways [1/2]
Title: The Castaways
Fandom: Real Person Fic: CW
Characters/Pairings: Jared/Jensen with some vaguely implied future Genevieve/Danneel
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content and past homophobia (off-screen), some internalized homophobia as a result
Word Count: 11,683
Author’s Note: Written as an (incredibly late, I'M SO SORRY) spn_j2_xmas gift for my wonderful darling dollarformyname. L, I wanted to write you the greatest present ever both because you are wonderful and because I have failed you on so many levels this year and you deserve ALL THE NICE THINGS and NONE OF THE FAILURE. PLEASE DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT I OWE YOU 70,000 WORDS OF OUR BIGBANG, but as I have been in a writing rut this year, hopefully this will tide you over for a bit!! Honestly, I had the stupidest problem with you as my recipient-I loved every single pairing & almost all the likes you listed, so I could not for the life of me choose one thing. I really really hope that I chose right and that you love this story. I also owe Deirdre_c many thanks for helping me try to determine which of the 8,000 pairings and likes that you and I shared would make the best gift. I tried to work in a couple of your prompts (uh, ships don't really have roofs, but I have a confession in the highest part of the ship, so???) and many of your likes. This was mainly inspired by your love of touch starvation, sea descriptions, tactile/touching/cuddling, and h/c.
Full disclosure to all readers: I'm not now, nor have I ever been, a pirate (shocking, I know), so my knowledge about pirate ships and life at sea is pretty limited. I did do my research where possible, but I was largely relying on the fact that the POV character also knows nothing about sailing. That said, there are likely practical and historical errors all over this story, but also it's porn, so get over it. So many thank yous to dugindeep and wolfize who both did champion beta jobs at very literally the eleventh hour…and on New Year's, no less. They made this story waaaay better than it was. Basically everything that isn't terrible? That's all them. But by all means, give me the credit anyway. :D Finally, a thank you to the wonderful xmas mod herself, tebtosca, for believing in me when honestly it would have been way smarter not to.
Summary: AU: Jared is a passenger on a ship to America when a storm forces them to take refuge on the first spit of dry land they find. There, Jared finds Jensen, a man who has been stranded alone on the island for years.
AO3
PART ONE
Jared hates the sea. He's always hated the fucking thing.
It gives him the creeps, and he doesn't see the romance in it that so many poets have written about. To Jared, any description of the ocean as a metaphor for freedom or positive change sounds cracked, like whoever's writing it has never actually gazed out onto the vast nothingness of the Atlantic. It's deep and dark and full of monsters too terrible to fathom, the water cold and biting, salt that cuts your cheeks and stings your eyes.
When he was in England, it meant weeks of misery aboard some cramped, swaying box made out of wood keeping him from the comfort of home. He never meant to cross the damned thing again when he left for England, wouldn’t have gotten on this ship back to the States if not for necessity.
So it honestly seems fitting, with Jared's recent run of bad luck, that he's going to die as so many idiots before him have, swallowed up by the angry tide and picked apart by the scaly scavengers he's sure are lurking just a few feet below, waiting. This is what humanity gets, really, for tempting fate. Humans belong on dry, solid land, and any attempt to test that is asking for trouble.
"I can't believe I'm going to die like this," he says again. "I just wanted to see Texas one last time."
He hears an annoyed sigh from his left elbow and looks down to see the captain glaring up at him. He's not sure how she manages to hold that expression with rain pounding down like it is, but she manages. "You're the most annoying, overdramatic person I have ever met in my life."
"That might be the last thing you ever say to me," he points out. "To anyone."
"Oh my god," Genevieve replies, looking up the sky accusingly, as if the storm was bad on its own, but having to put up with Jared is one indignity too many. "We are not going to die, Jared. This ship has stayed afloat through worse storms than this, I assure you."
"Doesn't that just mean it's more likely to sink this time? Wear and tear, you know?"
"We usually fix the holes before we sail again," she replies, still looking thoroughly unimpressed with Jared's seamanship. "Hopefully we'll find somewhere to dock until the worst passes-"
"Sure, we'll just happen to stumble upon some unrecorded island no one has ever seen before on the passage between England and America. That seems likely."
"Oh, hell, we've been blown so far off course we may be near Greenland for all I know! There might be land right on the other side of the next wave, we’re pretty much sailing blind at this point."
Jared feels his eyes widening, his jaw dropping in terror, but Genevieve's lips just curl up.
"You're joking," he guesses, letting his shoulders drop in relief. "You're just trying to scare me."
"Nah." She pats Jared on the shoulder. "We're definitely lost. But hell, we're pirates! We're good at improvising."
Genevieve gives Jared one last friendly clap on the back before turning to go, and Jared swallows hard, dropping his head onto the ledge. Even better, being reminded he's surrounded by cutthroats who won't hesitate to let him drown to save themselves.
Maybe he should just go back below deck. He'd come up hoping fresh air would improve his seasickness, but between the rain whipping his face and the fact that he can better see how utterly doomed they are, Jared's mood and health aren't exactly improving.
"Worst storm I've ever seen," he hears one of the men nearby tell another. Everyone is yelling to be heard over the wind and the crashing of the waves on the side of the ship, so Jared can't help overhearing. "Much worse than the one that almost sunk us last November. Remember that one?"
"Remember?" his companion replies. "That was the storm that killed Stephen! He fell right overboard."
"Oh, sure, we lost three men that time," the first guy responds, and then he starts…laughing? "But the way that Stephen's legs kicked as he went."
They're both cracking up now, and Jared feels himself whimper, unable to keep in his fear. He's afloat in the middle of a giant death puddle, surrounded by madmen, and somehow he actually expected to make it to Boston Harbor in one piece.
Fortunately for him, the sound is too weak to be heard over the roar of the storm, and the two rouges continue their reminiscing.
"Nice fella, that Stephen was," one of the men, Jared thinks his name is Ty, but the truth is he's stayed as far from the crew as he's been able to since they left England, and the only names he knows for sure are Genevieve's and her first mate, Jeff Morgan. This one's a big, burly sonofabitch, and he immediately stops laughing when he catches Jared watching them. "The hell are you staring at? You wanna go for a swim?"
Jared shakes his head and steps away, determined to go back to his cabin and die there in peace, but then he hears someone shout out, "Land ho!" and everyone on board lets out a cry of triumph.
The Captain and First Mate arrive almost immediately.
"We're near the center of the storm judging by those clouds," Jeff tells the captain. "That'll give us a chance to drop anchor and secure the ship, if we're not blown too far out of the way before it hits again."
"Yeah, but if we miss the window, we'll crash on the shore." It's the guy Jared had seen laughing with Ty earlier interrupting, and Jeff narrows his eyes.
"Travis, are you trying to imply I don't know what I'm doing? Because I was outrunning storms when you were still-"
"Yes, yes, you’re all very butch," Genevieve says, interrupting the argument. She calls up to the man on lookout in the crow's nest. "How much can you see, Aldis?"
"Not much, Captain," he shouts down. "Tall cliffs and a coastline."
Genevieve nods, looking to Jeff. "Cliffs mean coverage. We can dock near them and they'll protect the ship from the wind."
"If we make it in time," Travis interjects. "Otherwise we'll be smashed to pieces on the cliffs. Those of us who do survive will be stranded. Probably on some sandbar in the middle of nowhere!"
"If we try to stay on the water and this storm gets any worse, we'll all be dead!" Jeff yells back.
"Yeah, stranded beats dead," Genevieve says. "We're going to the island."
_______________________________________________________________
Within the hour, the storm calms to nothing, just as Jeff had predicted. The sky is a terrifying bright orange like Jared has never seen in his life, but the crew are in good spirits as they work to make land. He figures they know when to be worried better than he does, so he lets some of the tension leave him and does his best to stay out of the way.
He's in his cabin when he feels the ship lurch. At first, the panic returns, but after half a minute or so, there's a knock on his door. He opens it to see Genevieve standing there, soaked to the bone and looking more exhilarated than he's ever seen her.
"We just dropped anchor," she tells him. "We found a good spot to leave the ship docked for the night, and I don't think we're in danger of her taking much damage. But it'll still be safer on land when the storm starts up again."
"You mean it?" Jared asks. "I can get off this death trap?"
Genevieve nods, and she doesn't have to tell Jared twice. He starts grabbing what he'll need for the night, throwing on his coat and grabbing blankets to try to stay warm through the storm, and he hears her let out a huff of amusement from the door.
"You may be worthless as a sailor, Doctor, but we expect every able-bodied person on this ship to pitch in. There will be supplies we need to unload for the night, so make sure you can still carry a parcel or two when you're done gathering your pillows."
Jared knows the captain is fond of him, that she's the reason the rest of the crew haven't robbed him or worse, and that her teasing is mostly well-intentioned. Still, he feels his cheeks color and drops all but one of the blankets he'd had in his arms.
She nods in approval and turns to leave, and Jared follows a few seconds behind, stopping to grab his lantern, which he'd kept unlit to avoid it shattering in the turbulence and starting a fire. He figures having a fire already going will be useful on land, even if the rain puts out anything they try to use for warmth.
With so many people working together, the ship is unloaded and locked down as much as possible well within the time they have before the storm strikes again. Jared is impressed, honestly, with how well the rowdy bunch of men and women he's been sailing with the last few weeks work together, and he chalks it up to the captain's leadership.
They vote to stay close to the coast in order to avoid anyone getting lost or injured by venturing too far. It'll be an uncomfortable night if they don't find immediate cover, but they'll be able to find the ship easily once it's safe to leave; everyone except for Jared seems to be more annoyed than anything by having to stop on land for any period of time.
There's a line of palm trees and forest visible from the shore, so they agree to set up camp there. The trees will provide poor cover, but it’ll be better than nothing, and it's only one night. Jared, as used to feather pillows and soft mattresses as he is, dreads the thought of sleeping on a wet, muddy floor, while most of the crew settle quickly as they build their impromptu camp.
Jared tries to sleep sitting with his back propped on the trunk of a tree, yet he hardly dozes, awakening with rain hitting his face from a dream where he drowns even here on dry land.
Sleep, he decides, is not likely to come until they leave this nightmare behind and get back to sailing on calm waters with some real sense that he'll be home soon. He stands and glances around at his companions, most of whom are out, snoring like they’ve never had a better rest in their lives.
He has to dance a bit, carefully watch his steps to avoid putting his foot in someone's face or waking one of these criminals who are more likely to cut him open than wait for an apology.
When he finally reaches the edge of the campsite, he hesitates before grabbing the lantern he'd brought to shore, lighting it from the larger fire the lookout is maintaining.
"Where are you going?" hisses a small, red-headed girl-Jared thinks her name is Felicia, maybe.
"Just for a walk," he replies. "I'll be back."
"If you're not by sunrise, we're leaving you."
Jared smiles. "Oh, I believe you."
He doesn't walk far, not enough to lose sight of the fire at the center of their camp. The rain is still going steady, but the trees above are catching most of it, and his blanket is warm and toasty. He finds a large rock and takes a seat on it, holding his lantern up to observe the island around him. It's exactly what he'd expect from a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. He's about to laugh at how cliché this whole mess is when he sees a bush nearby shift and hears a sound that unsettles him.
If he were a wiser man, Jared would ignore it. Better yet, he would head immediately back to the protection of the group he came with. Many things in Jared's life would be different if he were a wiser man.
Instead, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he hops down from the rock, landing on his feet. He shuffles closer to the bush, moving slowly so as not to spook whatever's behind it.
"Hello," he says, laughing at himself as soon as he realizes what he's done. It's probably a monkey or a rodent, and he's speaking the Queen's English to it.
There's a brief period of silence and then, "Hello."
Jared feels his eyebrows draw together and takes a step back in shock. Maybe-he'd heard of birds that could mimic human speech, but whatever this was, it had sounded…American.
A head suddenly appears above the bush, and even in the dark, Jared recognizes the very human pair of eyes staring at him.
The others had found no signs of any kind of civilization when they'd first come ashore and looked around, but this is definitely a person, and, judging by the wild state they're in, not one who arrived only a few hours ago. Jared doesn't know all the men and women of the crew he's been sailing with; still, he knows this is not one of them.
Probably, there's a good chance that this person will slaughter Jared for trespassing on their land, or take him back to the rest of his tribe to alert them of their visitors. If that's how it's going to go down, Jared figures he's got no hope of escaping, so he places his lantern on the floor carefully and reaches out with one hand, touching his chest with the other.
"Hello," he says again. "I'm Jared. I'm not going to hurt you."
The person hesitates for a long time, but finally they shuffle forward out of their hiding place. Jared is able to determine that it's a man, one of fairly strong build, almost his equal in height, but thin, thin, thin, as if he hasn't eaten in years.
"Do you speak English?" Jared asks. "I know some Spanish, but I'm afraid that's all-"
The man moves forward very quickly then, fast enough that Jared thinks he's attacking, so he brings the hand he'd had on his chest up to his eyes, attempting to shield his face from whatever the man might do.
Instead, he only feels two hands seize his own, their grip tight but not violent. The man does the last thing Jared's expecting-he takes Jared's hand and presses it against his cheek, which is covered by a thick beard.
"Jared," the man says. His voice is scratchy, as if he hasn't used it for a long time, but it sounds comfortable enough with the language when he replies, "I'm Jensen. English is fine."
"Good," Jared says, watching as the man rubs his face against Jared's hand. Jared doesn't try to take it back, though it is a little awkward. "That's a start."
He looks at the man more closely now that he's fairly certain there's no immediate danger. The stranger's clothes are ragged, filthy and torn, yet Jared recognizes the fabric for cotton, the style a fairly standard undershirt and what might have been a nice pair of breeches when they were first cut. Whoever this poor bastard is, this is not his natural habitat.
"Are you cold?" Jared asks, taking his hand back so that he can grab the blanket draped over his shoulders and pull it off, offering it to Jensen instead. "Your clothes are so thin. Wear this."
Jensen makes an injured sound when Jared breaks contact, but there's a look on his face like reverence when Jared wraps the warm blanket around him.
"How did you get here?" he asks. "You're from the States, aren't you?"
He watches as Jensen settles the blanket, and then the stranger takes his hand again, pressing it between his palms, staring down at where they're touching.
"States, yes," Jensen says. He licks his lips, then looks up at Jared, shaking his head. "Came on ship-like yours. Saw you arrive. Watching you. All of you." Jensen points toward where the campsite is. "Was a storm. My ship smashed. Everyone else dead. Everyone. Except for me. Don't know why me. Everyone else…"
The man looks away, but his hold on Jared only tightens.
"I'm so sorry," Jared tells him. "How long ago?"
"How long?" Jensen echoes. His face scrunches up like he's thinking too hard, and then he meets Jared's eyes. "When is it?"
"March, 1857," Jared answers.
"No," Jensen whispers. He lets go of Jared for the first time, grabbing his long hair and tugging at it. "No. No, no, no."
"Hey, calm down," Jared says, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
Jensen immediately calms at the contact, but his face is pained. "Eight years," he says. "Eight years."
"You've been here for eight years?" Jared responds.
"Eight," Jensen says, like Jared is clearly not grasping the meaning. "Eight."
"That's a long time." Jared feels pretty stupid once it's out, but to his surprise, the obviousness of his observation seems to shake Jensen out of whatever state he's in, and he laughs softly.
"Yes," Jensen agrees. "Very long."
"I'm sorry," Jared tells him.
Jensen leans forward, grabbing Jared's shirt with both hands. "Take me with you."
"What? I-"
"Please," he begs. "Please. Don’t leave me here."
"I'll try, of course. But…it's not my ship. Not my call. And these people, they don't really like me."
"I can take them to shelter. Warm, dry cave. Clean water. Food. As long as it takes to wait out storm. I can help. Please."
"I'll do whatever I can," Jared promises, and Jensen surprises him by pulling him in, holding him close.
_______________________________________________________________
A gunshot goes off, striking the roof and causing small chunks of rock to rain down on them.
Everyone is huddled inside the cave Jensen has apparently been living in for the last eight years, gathered around a warm fire, safe from the rain and winds that are tearing through the island.
Despite Jensen's hospitality-and Jared's not sure why he's surprised by this-half the crew started laughing when he proposed that they agree to take Jensen with them, and most of the rest of them took their weapons out.
"Everyone shut up!" Genevieve screams when the shot from her pistol is done echoing through the cave.
No one dares to disobey her. The only sound Jared hears is a muffled cry from Jensen, who snuggles in closer to Jared's side. The blanket Jared had loaned him earlier is wrapped around both of them now, and Jared is supporting Jensen against his chest because, well, because he doesn't really seem to have much of a choice. Jensen hasn't stopped touching him for even a moment since they first made contact.
"We're going to listen to arguments for and against," she says, like she's talking to a gang of rowdy children. "No one is going to interrupt anyone else until they have had their say."
"Well, I say we blow the man away," Travis says, immediately jumping in. Jared knows his name by now, as well as his propensity to assume his opinion is wanted in every situation.
"Here, here," Ty agrees. "We don't need another mouth to feed."
"He just fed your big mouth," Jared mutters.
Ty turns to look at him with a snarl on his face. "I say we leave the landlubber behind, too, so he has some company. He's done nothing but get in the way since we took him on anyway."
"Oh, yeah, that's a great idea," Felicia says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That way, when someone cuts off one of your limbs for being a drunk asshole, there won't be a doctor on board to deal with it."
"We're keeping the doctor," Jeff agrees, spreading his hand out. "That's not up for debate."
Ty crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, like an overgrown child, and Jared can't help laughing.
"We don't know that he's safe," says Aldis.
Jared looks up, a little betrayed, because, sure, he wouldn't have called anyone here a friend, but he and Aldis have been respectful, even cordial, ever since Jared sewed up the wound Aldis got on their last raid.
Aldis shrugs. "Sorry, man. But we don't know how he got here. His last crew might have left him because he's a foaming-at-the-mouth killer, for all we know. He might slit all our throats while we're sleeping."
"Seriously?" asks a small boy Jared hadn't paid much attention to yet. "So might Mike or Tom or you or me, or that guy-" He points to their most recent recruit. "I don't even know that guy's name. We're pirates, for crying out loud."
"That's right, Osric," Felicia responds. "And if we don't have loyalty, what do we have? We would all be out there catching our death if he hadn't led us here. He could have slit all our throats while we were sleeping."
"Besides, the kid's a mess. You really don't think you can take him?" Jeff hitches a thumb in Jensen's direction, and Jensen illustrates his point by burrowing even closer to Jared as everyone turns to look at him. "He weighs like eighty pounds soaking wet."
"So does the Captain, and she'll fuck you up," someone cries out from the back.
Genevieve smirks at that, and the debate carries on.
"But he's clearly got more than a few screws loose," Travis argues.
Genevieve sits up. "You saying I don't?" The crowd laughs, and the Captain tries to catch Jensen's eye. "I'd like to hear your argument."
"We can't just leave him here," Jared says. "He might never get another chance to-"
"I said I wanted to hear it from him," she interrupts, and her tone brooks no argument.
Jensen pulls out of Jared's embrace slowly, but he keeps Jared's hand clenched in his own as he sits up. "I. Please. I'm can-" He breaks off, his face scrunching up as he turns away, and he slaps one palm against his temple, like he's trying to shake something loose. "Haven't spoken in long time," he explains. "Can't explain well. But I knows ships. I'm good on a ship. I can help."
"We can always use extra hands," Jeff says.
Genevieve purses her lips. "We gave what's-his-name the last bed in the crew's quarters."
"There's an extra bed in my cabin," Jared reminds her. "He can stay with me."
Travis snorts. "I'll bet he can."
The Captain turns on him. "You want to be the one left behind?"
"No, Captain," he mumbles.
"Didn't think so." She returns her attention to Jared and Jensen, then nods. "Alright, we'll take you, but only as far as Boston. Then you're on your own."
Jensen smiles for the first time, and in the glow of the firelight, Jared sees the way his big eyes light up, how it wrinkles the skin next to his eyes. Even behind the unkempt beard, it's a beautiful smile.
_______________________________________________________________
Jensen is standing by the washbasin in Jared's cabin, looking shaken and unsure of himself as he towels his face dry.
The clothes Jared gave him to wear are baggy on his frail frame, but when Jared asks if they're okay, Jensen runs his hands over the clean fabric and then nods at Jared. His eyes look just a little bit wet.
"We can wash and mend your old clothes if you want something that fits you better," Jared offers.
Jensen shakes his head. "Burn them."
He's a man of few words, Jared has learned, but he makes his point.
"Is there anything else I can do to make you feel at-?"
Jensen steps forward and takes Jared's wrist. He brings Jared's hand up to his face, just like he had when they first met on the island, and closes his eyes as he leans into the touch, holding Jared's palm flat against his cheek.
"Thank you," he whispers after a long time. He opens his eyes, and now in the light streaming through Jared's cabin window, Jared has a chance to see how big they are, how green. They’re fixed on him like Jensen has something incredibly important that he needs Jared to understand, but again, all he says is, "Thank you."
"Of course," Jared replies, smiling as if Jensen's hyper-focus doesn't unsettle him. "Wasn't gonna leave you there if I could help it."
"Want," Jensen says. He takes Jared's other hand in his and brings that one up to touch his face as well. "Can't feel you."
"The beard?" Jared guesses, and Jensen nods. "I have a good razor. We have a man on board who cuts the crew's hair, he could help you out."
"No, not them," Jensen says. "Only you."
Jared's laugh is shaky. "You want me to cut your hair?"
Jensen nods.
"I've never cut anyone's hair in my life. I'll make you look terrible."
At that, Jensen lifts an eyebrow and glances at their reflections in the mirror as if to ask, "How much worse could I look?"
Jensen reaches for the pouch where Jared keeps his razor and lifts the flap. There's a small pair of scissors tucked off to the side. Jensen takes those out and hands them to Jared. While Jared begins to set up and lather the shaving soap, Jensen carefully undoes the buttons of the shirt Jared lent him and sets it aside.
"You're sure you don't want to do this yourself?" he asks as he turns, and maybe he shouldn't be as surprised as he is to find Jensen already standing at his side, less than an inch of space between them.
Jared's cabin is small, but Jensen gives 'close quarters' a whole new meaning.
"Uh uh," Jensen says, lifting his hands so Jared can see them. "Too shaky."
Jared's about to ask why Jensen's hands are shaking when Jensen reaches out, putting his hands on Jared's hips and drawing him closer. They're steady on him. They've been steady every time Jensen's touched him, which has been constant.
It's been too long since Jared was close to anyone, and the proximity to Jensen makes his hands shake.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," Jared tells him. "I could hurt you."
Jensen's smile is so small, it's almost hidden under the brush of his beard and the layer of shaving cream he's started to apply, but it's there. He shakes his head and says, "You won't hurt me."
"You're pretty willing to put your life in the hands of someone you just met, like, a day ago."
"Yes," Jensen agrees. "I trust you."
"Why?" Jared asks, unable to help himself.
Jensen shrugs. "You already saved my life."
Jared swallows hard at that, not sure he sees it the same way. All he did was bring Jensen to the Captain and try to advocate for him. Not like he's the one she listened to in the end.
He grabs the razor and begins to work through the thick hair on Jensen's face. Jensen washed himself as much as he could in the water from the wash basin, so his beard isn't as matted with mud and sand as it had been when they'd first gotten on board, but it's still much more of a challenge than anything Jared's ever had to shave off of himself, not to mention a different angle than he's used to.
He's nearly done with Jensen's left cheek when the ship lurches on a wave and Jared doesn't account for it, slides the blade wrong, nicking Jensen's jaw. A little spot of blood begins to bead on his skin, and Jared pulls back.
"Fuck!" he says. "Fuck, I told you I was going to-"
"It's okay," Jensen says, taking Jared's wrist and pulling him in again. "Just a little cut, Jared. It's okay."
Jared feels the confusion draw on his face. "You want me to keep going?"
"Yes, please," Jensen answers. He sounds content, sleepy even, and he closes his eyes. Jensen lets his head drop back to expose his throat to Jared, completely surrendering himself even though Jared just demonstrated that he's not good at this.
Jared washes the razor clean and starts again, leaning closer to Jensen to try to get as close and safe a shave as possible. At this angle, with Jensen's long throat exposed, it's hard to ignore how long his eyelashes are, the way they rest on his cheeks, which are dotted with the same freckles that cover every inch of Jensen's sun-kissed skin, or at least what’s on display right now, which is most of him.
The longer Jared goes and the more of Jensen he uncovers, the more he realizes how much trouble he's in. Because the lushest mouth Jared has ever seen was hiding under that wild beard, and it's becoming all too evident that Jensen is beautiful.
Jared just finished ruining his life with thoughts like that, and now what he took for a completely harmless man in need of help has been dropped in his lap, more tempting than anything he's ever seen before.
When he's done, he towels Jensen's face clean and can't help staring. He doesn't even know he's reaching out, letting the back of his fingers brush along Jensen's cheek, until Jensen opens his eyes and meets Jared's.
Jensen draws in a breath and smiles, leaning into the touch. "See," he says, his voice muted, as if he's telling Jared a secret he doesn’t even want God to hear. "Now I can feel you."
Jared can't think of anything to do but ruin the moment, so he coughs and turns away. "I can try to cut your hair, too, but I'm telling you, I won't know what I'm doing."
"I can do that." Jensen takes the scissors and turns to his reflection in the mirror, hardly gives Jared a moment to adjust before he starts hacking away at his hair, cutting the long strands much shorter than Jared's own.
He watches Jensen work for a long time, not sure why it's so fascinating, but the transformation when Jensen finally sets the shears aside is outrageous. Jensen straightens, though Jared can't help noticing he doesn't stand at his full height, that he leans all his weight onto his left leg.
Then he faces Jared and smiles, reaching for the shirt he'd taken off earlier and slipping it around his shoulders. Now, Jared can't think about his posture. He can't take his eyes off all that skin Jensen is covering up or the newly exposed masterpiece of his face.
Jensen is Apollo himself, and Jared is utterly fucked.
ON TO PART TWO
Fandom: Real Person Fic: CW
Characters/Pairings: Jared/Jensen with some vaguely implied future Genevieve/Danneel
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content and past homophobia (off-screen), some internalized homophobia as a result
Word Count: 11,683
Author’s Note: Written as an (incredibly late, I'M SO SORRY) spn_j2_xmas gift for my wonderful darling dollarformyname. L, I wanted to write you the greatest present ever both because you are wonderful and because I have failed you on so many levels this year and you deserve ALL THE NICE THINGS and NONE OF THE FAILURE. PLEASE DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT I OWE YOU 70,000 WORDS OF OUR BIGBANG, but as I have been in a writing rut this year, hopefully this will tide you over for a bit!! Honestly, I had the stupidest problem with you as my recipient-I loved every single pairing & almost all the likes you listed, so I could not for the life of me choose one thing. I really really hope that I chose right and that you love this story. I also owe Deirdre_c many thanks for helping me try to determine which of the 8,000 pairings and likes that you and I shared would make the best gift. I tried to work in a couple of your prompts (uh, ships don't really have roofs, but I have a confession in the highest part of the ship, so???) and many of your likes. This was mainly inspired by your love of touch starvation, sea descriptions, tactile/touching/cuddling, and h/c.
Full disclosure to all readers: I'm not now, nor have I ever been, a pirate (shocking, I know), so my knowledge about pirate ships and life at sea is pretty limited. I did do my research where possible, but I was largely relying on the fact that the POV character also knows nothing about sailing. That said, there are likely practical and historical errors all over this story, but also it's porn, so get over it. So many thank yous to dugindeep and wolfize who both did champion beta jobs at very literally the eleventh hour…and on New Year's, no less. They made this story waaaay better than it was. Basically everything that isn't terrible? That's all them. But by all means, give me the credit anyway. :D Finally, a thank you to the wonderful xmas mod herself, tebtosca, for believing in me when honestly it would have been way smarter not to.
Summary: AU: Jared is a passenger on a ship to America when a storm forces them to take refuge on the first spit of dry land they find. There, Jared finds Jensen, a man who has been stranded alone on the island for years.
AO3
PART ONE
Jared hates the sea. He's always hated the fucking thing.
It gives him the creeps, and he doesn't see the romance in it that so many poets have written about. To Jared, any description of the ocean as a metaphor for freedom or positive change sounds cracked, like whoever's writing it has never actually gazed out onto the vast nothingness of the Atlantic. It's deep and dark and full of monsters too terrible to fathom, the water cold and biting, salt that cuts your cheeks and stings your eyes.
When he was in England, it meant weeks of misery aboard some cramped, swaying box made out of wood keeping him from the comfort of home. He never meant to cross the damned thing again when he left for England, wouldn’t have gotten on this ship back to the States if not for necessity.
So it honestly seems fitting, with Jared's recent run of bad luck, that he's going to die as so many idiots before him have, swallowed up by the angry tide and picked apart by the scaly scavengers he's sure are lurking just a few feet below, waiting. This is what humanity gets, really, for tempting fate. Humans belong on dry, solid land, and any attempt to test that is asking for trouble.
"I can't believe I'm going to die like this," he says again. "I just wanted to see Texas one last time."
He hears an annoyed sigh from his left elbow and looks down to see the captain glaring up at him. He's not sure how she manages to hold that expression with rain pounding down like it is, but she manages. "You're the most annoying, overdramatic person I have ever met in my life."
"That might be the last thing you ever say to me," he points out. "To anyone."
"Oh my god," Genevieve replies, looking up the sky accusingly, as if the storm was bad on its own, but having to put up with Jared is one indignity too many. "We are not going to die, Jared. This ship has stayed afloat through worse storms than this, I assure you."
"Doesn't that just mean it's more likely to sink this time? Wear and tear, you know?"
"We usually fix the holes before we sail again," she replies, still looking thoroughly unimpressed with Jared's seamanship. "Hopefully we'll find somewhere to dock until the worst passes-"
"Sure, we'll just happen to stumble upon some unrecorded island no one has ever seen before on the passage between England and America. That seems likely."
"Oh, hell, we've been blown so far off course we may be near Greenland for all I know! There might be land right on the other side of the next wave, we’re pretty much sailing blind at this point."
Jared feels his eyes widening, his jaw dropping in terror, but Genevieve's lips just curl up.
"You're joking," he guesses, letting his shoulders drop in relief. "You're just trying to scare me."
"Nah." She pats Jared on the shoulder. "We're definitely lost. But hell, we're pirates! We're good at improvising."
Genevieve gives Jared one last friendly clap on the back before turning to go, and Jared swallows hard, dropping his head onto the ledge. Even better, being reminded he's surrounded by cutthroats who won't hesitate to let him drown to save themselves.
Maybe he should just go back below deck. He'd come up hoping fresh air would improve his seasickness, but between the rain whipping his face and the fact that he can better see how utterly doomed they are, Jared's mood and health aren't exactly improving.
"Worst storm I've ever seen," he hears one of the men nearby tell another. Everyone is yelling to be heard over the wind and the crashing of the waves on the side of the ship, so Jared can't help overhearing. "Much worse than the one that almost sunk us last November. Remember that one?"
"Remember?" his companion replies. "That was the storm that killed Stephen! He fell right overboard."
"Oh, sure, we lost three men that time," the first guy responds, and then he starts…laughing? "But the way that Stephen's legs kicked as he went."
They're both cracking up now, and Jared feels himself whimper, unable to keep in his fear. He's afloat in the middle of a giant death puddle, surrounded by madmen, and somehow he actually expected to make it to Boston Harbor in one piece.
Fortunately for him, the sound is too weak to be heard over the roar of the storm, and the two rouges continue their reminiscing.
"Nice fella, that Stephen was," one of the men, Jared thinks his name is Ty, but the truth is he's stayed as far from the crew as he's been able to since they left England, and the only names he knows for sure are Genevieve's and her first mate, Jeff Morgan. This one's a big, burly sonofabitch, and he immediately stops laughing when he catches Jared watching them. "The hell are you staring at? You wanna go for a swim?"
Jared shakes his head and steps away, determined to go back to his cabin and die there in peace, but then he hears someone shout out, "Land ho!" and everyone on board lets out a cry of triumph.
The Captain and First Mate arrive almost immediately.
"We're near the center of the storm judging by those clouds," Jeff tells the captain. "That'll give us a chance to drop anchor and secure the ship, if we're not blown too far out of the way before it hits again."
"Yeah, but if we miss the window, we'll crash on the shore." It's the guy Jared had seen laughing with Ty earlier interrupting, and Jeff narrows his eyes.
"Travis, are you trying to imply I don't know what I'm doing? Because I was outrunning storms when you were still-"
"Yes, yes, you’re all very butch," Genevieve says, interrupting the argument. She calls up to the man on lookout in the crow's nest. "How much can you see, Aldis?"
"Not much, Captain," he shouts down. "Tall cliffs and a coastline."
Genevieve nods, looking to Jeff. "Cliffs mean coverage. We can dock near them and they'll protect the ship from the wind."
"If we make it in time," Travis interjects. "Otherwise we'll be smashed to pieces on the cliffs. Those of us who do survive will be stranded. Probably on some sandbar in the middle of nowhere!"
"If we try to stay on the water and this storm gets any worse, we'll all be dead!" Jeff yells back.
"Yeah, stranded beats dead," Genevieve says. "We're going to the island."
_______________________________________________________________
Within the hour, the storm calms to nothing, just as Jeff had predicted. The sky is a terrifying bright orange like Jared has never seen in his life, but the crew are in good spirits as they work to make land. He figures they know when to be worried better than he does, so he lets some of the tension leave him and does his best to stay out of the way.
He's in his cabin when he feels the ship lurch. At first, the panic returns, but after half a minute or so, there's a knock on his door. He opens it to see Genevieve standing there, soaked to the bone and looking more exhilarated than he's ever seen her.
"We just dropped anchor," she tells him. "We found a good spot to leave the ship docked for the night, and I don't think we're in danger of her taking much damage. But it'll still be safer on land when the storm starts up again."
"You mean it?" Jared asks. "I can get off this death trap?"
Genevieve nods, and she doesn't have to tell Jared twice. He starts grabbing what he'll need for the night, throwing on his coat and grabbing blankets to try to stay warm through the storm, and he hears her let out a huff of amusement from the door.
"You may be worthless as a sailor, Doctor, but we expect every able-bodied person on this ship to pitch in. There will be supplies we need to unload for the night, so make sure you can still carry a parcel or two when you're done gathering your pillows."
Jared knows the captain is fond of him, that she's the reason the rest of the crew haven't robbed him or worse, and that her teasing is mostly well-intentioned. Still, he feels his cheeks color and drops all but one of the blankets he'd had in his arms.
She nods in approval and turns to leave, and Jared follows a few seconds behind, stopping to grab his lantern, which he'd kept unlit to avoid it shattering in the turbulence and starting a fire. He figures having a fire already going will be useful on land, even if the rain puts out anything they try to use for warmth.
With so many people working together, the ship is unloaded and locked down as much as possible well within the time they have before the storm strikes again. Jared is impressed, honestly, with how well the rowdy bunch of men and women he's been sailing with the last few weeks work together, and he chalks it up to the captain's leadership.
They vote to stay close to the coast in order to avoid anyone getting lost or injured by venturing too far. It'll be an uncomfortable night if they don't find immediate cover, but they'll be able to find the ship easily once it's safe to leave; everyone except for Jared seems to be more annoyed than anything by having to stop on land for any period of time.
There's a line of palm trees and forest visible from the shore, so they agree to set up camp there. The trees will provide poor cover, but it’ll be better than nothing, and it's only one night. Jared, as used to feather pillows and soft mattresses as he is, dreads the thought of sleeping on a wet, muddy floor, while most of the crew settle quickly as they build their impromptu camp.
Jared tries to sleep sitting with his back propped on the trunk of a tree, yet he hardly dozes, awakening with rain hitting his face from a dream where he drowns even here on dry land.
Sleep, he decides, is not likely to come until they leave this nightmare behind and get back to sailing on calm waters with some real sense that he'll be home soon. He stands and glances around at his companions, most of whom are out, snoring like they’ve never had a better rest in their lives.
He has to dance a bit, carefully watch his steps to avoid putting his foot in someone's face or waking one of these criminals who are more likely to cut him open than wait for an apology.
When he finally reaches the edge of the campsite, he hesitates before grabbing the lantern he'd brought to shore, lighting it from the larger fire the lookout is maintaining.
"Where are you going?" hisses a small, red-headed girl-Jared thinks her name is Felicia, maybe.
"Just for a walk," he replies. "I'll be back."
"If you're not by sunrise, we're leaving you."
Jared smiles. "Oh, I believe you."
He doesn't walk far, not enough to lose sight of the fire at the center of their camp. The rain is still going steady, but the trees above are catching most of it, and his blanket is warm and toasty. He finds a large rock and takes a seat on it, holding his lantern up to observe the island around him. It's exactly what he'd expect from a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. He's about to laugh at how cliché this whole mess is when he sees a bush nearby shift and hears a sound that unsettles him.
If he were a wiser man, Jared would ignore it. Better yet, he would head immediately back to the protection of the group he came with. Many things in Jared's life would be different if he were a wiser man.
Instead, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he hops down from the rock, landing on his feet. He shuffles closer to the bush, moving slowly so as not to spook whatever's behind it.
"Hello," he says, laughing at himself as soon as he realizes what he's done. It's probably a monkey or a rodent, and he's speaking the Queen's English to it.
There's a brief period of silence and then, "Hello."
Jared feels his eyebrows draw together and takes a step back in shock. Maybe-he'd heard of birds that could mimic human speech, but whatever this was, it had sounded…American.
A head suddenly appears above the bush, and even in the dark, Jared recognizes the very human pair of eyes staring at him.
The others had found no signs of any kind of civilization when they'd first come ashore and looked around, but this is definitely a person, and, judging by the wild state they're in, not one who arrived only a few hours ago. Jared doesn't know all the men and women of the crew he's been sailing with; still, he knows this is not one of them.
Probably, there's a good chance that this person will slaughter Jared for trespassing on their land, or take him back to the rest of his tribe to alert them of their visitors. If that's how it's going to go down, Jared figures he's got no hope of escaping, so he places his lantern on the floor carefully and reaches out with one hand, touching his chest with the other.
"Hello," he says again. "I'm Jared. I'm not going to hurt you."
The person hesitates for a long time, but finally they shuffle forward out of their hiding place. Jared is able to determine that it's a man, one of fairly strong build, almost his equal in height, but thin, thin, thin, as if he hasn't eaten in years.
"Do you speak English?" Jared asks. "I know some Spanish, but I'm afraid that's all-"
The man moves forward very quickly then, fast enough that Jared thinks he's attacking, so he brings the hand he'd had on his chest up to his eyes, attempting to shield his face from whatever the man might do.
Instead, he only feels two hands seize his own, their grip tight but not violent. The man does the last thing Jared's expecting-he takes Jared's hand and presses it against his cheek, which is covered by a thick beard.
"Jared," the man says. His voice is scratchy, as if he hasn't used it for a long time, but it sounds comfortable enough with the language when he replies, "I'm Jensen. English is fine."
"Good," Jared says, watching as the man rubs his face against Jared's hand. Jared doesn't try to take it back, though it is a little awkward. "That's a start."
He looks at the man more closely now that he's fairly certain there's no immediate danger. The stranger's clothes are ragged, filthy and torn, yet Jared recognizes the fabric for cotton, the style a fairly standard undershirt and what might have been a nice pair of breeches when they were first cut. Whoever this poor bastard is, this is not his natural habitat.
"Are you cold?" Jared asks, taking his hand back so that he can grab the blanket draped over his shoulders and pull it off, offering it to Jensen instead. "Your clothes are so thin. Wear this."
Jensen makes an injured sound when Jared breaks contact, but there's a look on his face like reverence when Jared wraps the warm blanket around him.
"How did you get here?" he asks. "You're from the States, aren't you?"
He watches as Jensen settles the blanket, and then the stranger takes his hand again, pressing it between his palms, staring down at where they're touching.
"States, yes," Jensen says. He licks his lips, then looks up at Jared, shaking his head. "Came on ship-like yours. Saw you arrive. Watching you. All of you." Jensen points toward where the campsite is. "Was a storm. My ship smashed. Everyone else dead. Everyone. Except for me. Don't know why me. Everyone else…"
The man looks away, but his hold on Jared only tightens.
"I'm so sorry," Jared tells him. "How long ago?"
"How long?" Jensen echoes. His face scrunches up like he's thinking too hard, and then he meets Jared's eyes. "When is it?"
"March, 1857," Jared answers.
"No," Jensen whispers. He lets go of Jared for the first time, grabbing his long hair and tugging at it. "No. No, no, no."
"Hey, calm down," Jared says, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
Jensen immediately calms at the contact, but his face is pained. "Eight years," he says. "Eight years."
"You've been here for eight years?" Jared responds.
"Eight," Jensen says, like Jared is clearly not grasping the meaning. "Eight."
"That's a long time." Jared feels pretty stupid once it's out, but to his surprise, the obviousness of his observation seems to shake Jensen out of whatever state he's in, and he laughs softly.
"Yes," Jensen agrees. "Very long."
"I'm sorry," Jared tells him.
Jensen leans forward, grabbing Jared's shirt with both hands. "Take me with you."
"What? I-"
"Please," he begs. "Please. Don’t leave me here."
"I'll try, of course. But…it's not my ship. Not my call. And these people, they don't really like me."
"I can take them to shelter. Warm, dry cave. Clean water. Food. As long as it takes to wait out storm. I can help. Please."
"I'll do whatever I can," Jared promises, and Jensen surprises him by pulling him in, holding him close.
_______________________________________________________________
A gunshot goes off, striking the roof and causing small chunks of rock to rain down on them.
Everyone is huddled inside the cave Jensen has apparently been living in for the last eight years, gathered around a warm fire, safe from the rain and winds that are tearing through the island.
Despite Jensen's hospitality-and Jared's not sure why he's surprised by this-half the crew started laughing when he proposed that they agree to take Jensen with them, and most of the rest of them took their weapons out.
"Everyone shut up!" Genevieve screams when the shot from her pistol is done echoing through the cave.
No one dares to disobey her. The only sound Jared hears is a muffled cry from Jensen, who snuggles in closer to Jared's side. The blanket Jared had loaned him earlier is wrapped around both of them now, and Jared is supporting Jensen against his chest because, well, because he doesn't really seem to have much of a choice. Jensen hasn't stopped touching him for even a moment since they first made contact.
"We're going to listen to arguments for and against," she says, like she's talking to a gang of rowdy children. "No one is going to interrupt anyone else until they have had their say."
"Well, I say we blow the man away," Travis says, immediately jumping in. Jared knows his name by now, as well as his propensity to assume his opinion is wanted in every situation.
"Here, here," Ty agrees. "We don't need another mouth to feed."
"He just fed your big mouth," Jared mutters.
Ty turns to look at him with a snarl on his face. "I say we leave the landlubber behind, too, so he has some company. He's done nothing but get in the way since we took him on anyway."
"Oh, yeah, that's a great idea," Felicia says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That way, when someone cuts off one of your limbs for being a drunk asshole, there won't be a doctor on board to deal with it."
"We're keeping the doctor," Jeff agrees, spreading his hand out. "That's not up for debate."
Ty crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, like an overgrown child, and Jared can't help laughing.
"We don't know that he's safe," says Aldis.
Jared looks up, a little betrayed, because, sure, he wouldn't have called anyone here a friend, but he and Aldis have been respectful, even cordial, ever since Jared sewed up the wound Aldis got on their last raid.
Aldis shrugs. "Sorry, man. But we don't know how he got here. His last crew might have left him because he's a foaming-at-the-mouth killer, for all we know. He might slit all our throats while we're sleeping."
"Seriously?" asks a small boy Jared hadn't paid much attention to yet. "So might Mike or Tom or you or me, or that guy-" He points to their most recent recruit. "I don't even know that guy's name. We're pirates, for crying out loud."
"That's right, Osric," Felicia responds. "And if we don't have loyalty, what do we have? We would all be out there catching our death if he hadn't led us here. He could have slit all our throats while we were sleeping."
"Besides, the kid's a mess. You really don't think you can take him?" Jeff hitches a thumb in Jensen's direction, and Jensen illustrates his point by burrowing even closer to Jared as everyone turns to look at him. "He weighs like eighty pounds soaking wet."
"So does the Captain, and she'll fuck you up," someone cries out from the back.
Genevieve smirks at that, and the debate carries on.
"But he's clearly got more than a few screws loose," Travis argues.
Genevieve sits up. "You saying I don't?" The crowd laughs, and the Captain tries to catch Jensen's eye. "I'd like to hear your argument."
"We can't just leave him here," Jared says. "He might never get another chance to-"
"I said I wanted to hear it from him," she interrupts, and her tone brooks no argument.
Jensen pulls out of Jared's embrace slowly, but he keeps Jared's hand clenched in his own as he sits up. "I. Please. I'm can-" He breaks off, his face scrunching up as he turns away, and he slaps one palm against his temple, like he's trying to shake something loose. "Haven't spoken in long time," he explains. "Can't explain well. But I knows ships. I'm good on a ship. I can help."
"We can always use extra hands," Jeff says.
Genevieve purses her lips. "We gave what's-his-name the last bed in the crew's quarters."
"There's an extra bed in my cabin," Jared reminds her. "He can stay with me."
Travis snorts. "I'll bet he can."
The Captain turns on him. "You want to be the one left behind?"
"No, Captain," he mumbles.
"Didn't think so." She returns her attention to Jared and Jensen, then nods. "Alright, we'll take you, but only as far as Boston. Then you're on your own."
Jensen smiles for the first time, and in the glow of the firelight, Jared sees the way his big eyes light up, how it wrinkles the skin next to his eyes. Even behind the unkempt beard, it's a beautiful smile.
_______________________________________________________________
Jensen is standing by the washbasin in Jared's cabin, looking shaken and unsure of himself as he towels his face dry.
The clothes Jared gave him to wear are baggy on his frail frame, but when Jared asks if they're okay, Jensen runs his hands over the clean fabric and then nods at Jared. His eyes look just a little bit wet.
"We can wash and mend your old clothes if you want something that fits you better," Jared offers.
Jensen shakes his head. "Burn them."
He's a man of few words, Jared has learned, but he makes his point.
"Is there anything else I can do to make you feel at-?"
Jensen steps forward and takes Jared's wrist. He brings Jared's hand up to his face, just like he had when they first met on the island, and closes his eyes as he leans into the touch, holding Jared's palm flat against his cheek.
"Thank you," he whispers after a long time. He opens his eyes, and now in the light streaming through Jared's cabin window, Jared has a chance to see how big they are, how green. They’re fixed on him like Jensen has something incredibly important that he needs Jared to understand, but again, all he says is, "Thank you."
"Of course," Jared replies, smiling as if Jensen's hyper-focus doesn't unsettle him. "Wasn't gonna leave you there if I could help it."
"Want," Jensen says. He takes Jared's other hand in his and brings that one up to touch his face as well. "Can't feel you."
"The beard?" Jared guesses, and Jensen nods. "I have a good razor. We have a man on board who cuts the crew's hair, he could help you out."
"No, not them," Jensen says. "Only you."
Jared's laugh is shaky. "You want me to cut your hair?"
Jensen nods.
"I've never cut anyone's hair in my life. I'll make you look terrible."
At that, Jensen lifts an eyebrow and glances at their reflections in the mirror as if to ask, "How much worse could I look?"
Jensen reaches for the pouch where Jared keeps his razor and lifts the flap. There's a small pair of scissors tucked off to the side. Jensen takes those out and hands them to Jared. While Jared begins to set up and lather the shaving soap, Jensen carefully undoes the buttons of the shirt Jared lent him and sets it aside.
"You're sure you don't want to do this yourself?" he asks as he turns, and maybe he shouldn't be as surprised as he is to find Jensen already standing at his side, less than an inch of space between them.
Jared's cabin is small, but Jensen gives 'close quarters' a whole new meaning.
"Uh uh," Jensen says, lifting his hands so Jared can see them. "Too shaky."
Jared's about to ask why Jensen's hands are shaking when Jensen reaches out, putting his hands on Jared's hips and drawing him closer. They're steady on him. They've been steady every time Jensen's touched him, which has been constant.
It's been too long since Jared was close to anyone, and the proximity to Jensen makes his hands shake.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," Jared tells him. "I could hurt you."
Jensen's smile is so small, it's almost hidden under the brush of his beard and the layer of shaving cream he's started to apply, but it's there. He shakes his head and says, "You won't hurt me."
"You're pretty willing to put your life in the hands of someone you just met, like, a day ago."
"Yes," Jensen agrees. "I trust you."
"Why?" Jared asks, unable to help himself.
Jensen shrugs. "You already saved my life."
Jared swallows hard at that, not sure he sees it the same way. All he did was bring Jensen to the Captain and try to advocate for him. Not like he's the one she listened to in the end.
He grabs the razor and begins to work through the thick hair on Jensen's face. Jensen washed himself as much as he could in the water from the wash basin, so his beard isn't as matted with mud and sand as it had been when they'd first gotten on board, but it's still much more of a challenge than anything Jared's ever had to shave off of himself, not to mention a different angle than he's used to.
He's nearly done with Jensen's left cheek when the ship lurches on a wave and Jared doesn't account for it, slides the blade wrong, nicking Jensen's jaw. A little spot of blood begins to bead on his skin, and Jared pulls back.
"Fuck!" he says. "Fuck, I told you I was going to-"
"It's okay," Jensen says, taking Jared's wrist and pulling him in again. "Just a little cut, Jared. It's okay."
Jared feels the confusion draw on his face. "You want me to keep going?"
"Yes, please," Jensen answers. He sounds content, sleepy even, and he closes his eyes. Jensen lets his head drop back to expose his throat to Jared, completely surrendering himself even though Jared just demonstrated that he's not good at this.
Jared washes the razor clean and starts again, leaning closer to Jensen to try to get as close and safe a shave as possible. At this angle, with Jensen's long throat exposed, it's hard to ignore how long his eyelashes are, the way they rest on his cheeks, which are dotted with the same freckles that cover every inch of Jensen's sun-kissed skin, or at least what’s on display right now, which is most of him.
The longer Jared goes and the more of Jensen he uncovers, the more he realizes how much trouble he's in. Because the lushest mouth Jared has ever seen was hiding under that wild beard, and it's becoming all too evident that Jensen is beautiful.
Jared just finished ruining his life with thoughts like that, and now what he took for a completely harmless man in need of help has been dropped in his lap, more tempting than anything he's ever seen before.
When he's done, he towels Jensen's face clean and can't help staring. He doesn't even know he's reaching out, letting the back of his fingers brush along Jensen's cheek, until Jensen opens his eyes and meets Jared's.
Jensen draws in a breath and smiles, leaning into the touch. "See," he says, his voice muted, as if he's telling Jared a secret he doesn’t even want God to hear. "Now I can feel you."
Jared can't think of anything to do but ruin the moment, so he coughs and turns away. "I can try to cut your hair, too, but I'm telling you, I won't know what I'm doing."
"I can do that." Jensen takes the scissors and turns to his reflection in the mirror, hardly gives Jared a moment to adjust before he starts hacking away at his hair, cutting the long strands much shorter than Jared's own.
He watches Jensen work for a long time, not sure why it's so fascinating, but the transformation when Jensen finally sets the shears aside is outrageous. Jensen straightens, though Jared can't help noticing he doesn't stand at his full height, that he leans all his weight onto his left leg.
Then he faces Jared and smiles, reaching for the shirt he'd taken off earlier and slipping it around his shoulders. Now, Jared can't think about his posture. He can't take his eyes off all that skin Jensen is covering up or the newly exposed masterpiece of his face.
Jensen is Apollo himself, and Jared is utterly fucked.
ON TO PART TWO