Legacy, part 3
Part 2
Jared's mother has excused him from Saturday chores on the grounds that the fair only happens once a year. Jared is profoundly grateful.
Even though he continues to tell himself this is not a date, this is not a date, he can't help agonising over his clothes. Eventually he runs out of time for dithering and goes with a dark grey t-shirt that he knows looks decent and his most comfortable jeans. When he looks at himself in the mirror, his hair isn't doing anything weird, which is really all he asks of it. He throws a jacket in the Jeep in case it gets cold later.
"Have fun, sweetie!" his mother calls from the porch. He waves and pulls out.
Jensen gave his address as north on Elm and just go until the road stops, which takes him to a vaguely shabby-looking blue two-storey on a huge lot where the vegetation looks like it's basically been allowed to do as it pleases. Sadie comes dashing up to greet him as soon as he pulls up, so he gets out and crouches down to say hi.
"Hey," he hears, and looks up to see Jensen coming down the steps, the door swinging shut in his wake. He's wearing a faded blue hoodie that looks extremely soft over a white t-shirt, along with old worn jeans that Jared has dubbed his favourite because of how they cling to Jensen exactly right. Jared diverts his impulse to touch by giving Sadie some more love.
"Hey," he responds, as Sadie makes small blissful noises and snuggles in close. Jensen laughs.
"Sadie, come on, baby girl, you gotta let him go," he says, kneeling next to Jared and rubbing his thumb over her head. "I think we need to get you two some hangout time," he says to Jared. "She totally loves you."
"So let's take her out next weekend," Jared says, feeling bold.
"Can we take her to your spot? That rock'll be like heaven. She'll adore you for life." Jensen grins.
"Yeah, sure, if it's still warm. But not right now," he says, speaking directly to Sadie, who looks up at him plaintively and whimpers. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, okay?" He smooths his hands over her flanks one last time and pats her on the rump. Sadie seems to understand, licking first him and then Jensen in succession and turning to trot away around the side of the house.
Jared stands up, and Jensen stands up but overbalances slightly and bumps into Jared, and Jared steadies Jensen with a hand on his arm. A lot like how they met in the first place, actually. Jensen says "Sorry," laughing, hand planted in the middle of Jared's chest, and Jared shakes his head and can't stop smiling.
"Shall we?" Jared asks, reluctantly pulling away.
"Let's go," Jensen answers, and heads around to the passenger door.
The drive out to the fairgrounds only takes about ten minutes, and as they approach, Jared glances over at Jensen, who's wearing his delight openly on his face.
"You've never been to a fair before?" It seems a little surprising, seeing as Jensen's from Texas.
"Like once," Jensen says, "when I was little. This is awesome."
Jared shakes his head and finds a place to park.
It's a gorgeous day, almost no clouds and just enough breeze to take the edge off the sunshine. The fair is loud and crowded, animals for display and judging off to the left, craft and trade show to the right, and the midway up the centre.
"By the way," says Jensen as they enter the grounds, "I'm challenging you to the eating contest. Hope you didn't eat breakfast."
"You little shit," says Jared. "Lucky I was counting on that and only ate a half-breakfast."
"Lucky," Jensen agrees.
They gravitate toward the animals first, sounds of clucking and lowing and grunting and squealing becoming audible as they move away from the noise of the midway. It smells like manure and feed and livestock, and Jared kind of loves it.
"Dude," Jensen says reverently. "Do you think that pig can even stand?"
There's a petting zoo down at the end, which Jensen insists on patronising. Jared does not object. It's almost as good watching Jensen make adorably charmed faces while petting the lambs and kids as it is getting to pet them himself.
By the time they're through there, it's eleven thirty.
"Eating contest in half an hour," Jensen observes.
"Apple bobbing comes first," Jared points out. "Wanna watch?"
They watch.
The event stage is at the top of the midway and they join the crowd gathered to see the contestants bobbing for apples. It's an all-ages contest; the youngest competitor looks about six and has to stand on a box.
"That kid is gonna drown," Jensen says with concern.
"Ohio girls are tough," Jared says. "I say look out for that one."
The little girl comes in third, after a skinny teenaged redhead with braces and the first-prize winner, an old man who looks at least eighty.
"Is it cheating if you're using fake teeth?" Jensen demands, and Jared's laughing too hard to answer him before they call for entrants to the eating contest.
The competitors assemble off to the side while the stage is reset with long tables. Jared notices that Jake and one of his minions are among the entrants a few seconds before Jake notices him; when he does, his usual expression of smug superiority manifests, and Jared is struck with an absolutely insane idea.
"Jensen," Jared says, "back me up?"
Jensen looks quizzical but nods, and Jared leads the way over to where Jake is standing.
"If it isn't the Wonder Twins," Jake sneers. "Come to get your asses kicked?"
"You seem pretty confident," Jared says.
"Hell yeah I am," Jake says.
"You know this is a hot dog eating contest," Jared says conversationally.
"Yeah, so?" Jake's confidence is unperturbed.
"So you're looking to show the world how fast you can swallow a bunch of wieners," Jared concludes.
"Unlike you," Jensen pipes up, "we don't have a reputation to uphold. We're kind of proud of our skill set."
Jared almost chokes at that, but adds as a parting shot: "You might want to think about what victory actually means here."
Jake is turning red, visibly grasping for a comeback, while his buddy seems to be struggling not to laugh. Jared turns around and walks away to the other side of the waiting area, Jensen at his side.
By the time they get there, Jensen is shaking with suppressed mirth, and Jared's laughter bursts out uncontrollably.
"Shut up, shut up," he entreats uselessly as Jensen joins him, both of them laughing their asses off. "We don't want to make him madder."
"Yes we do," Jensen gets out, and that sets Jared off again.
They barely manage to calm themselves down when the master of ceremonies calls for order and begins to explain the rules. Jensen hiccups a last giggle and Jared steps on his foot.
Then they're all trooping up onstage and arranging themselves along the tables, facing out at the crowd, and Jared takes a moment to lament that, as usual, he won't be able to stomach another hot dog until after Christmas.
The platters are set before them.
"Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen. And... start!"
"So help me god," says Jared, "I am never doing that again."
"Let me guess," Jensen says. "You say that every year."
"Just shut up and let me die," Jared groans.
"I have a question: have you ever actually won?"
"I have a question: were you even trying?" Jared snipes back.
"Nope," Jensen says evenly. He would have won, hands down, if he'd been trying, which is why he held back considerably, restricting himself to eight hot dogs in the time allotted. Jared somehow choked down eleven.
It got him second place. The winner, a tall, athletic-looking girl that Jensen recognises from school, ate fifteen hot dogs in five minutes.
Jensen figures he could have done twenty. But then he would be as miserable as Jared is right now, plus he's pretty sure it would have raised some eyebrows.
"Son of a bitch," Jared moans, flopping pathetically on the bench. He looks like some kind of dying marine mammal.
"Hey," Jensen points out, "at least we both beat Jake."
"Don't make me laugh," Jared warns. "Don't. You will not like the consequences."
"So I'm guessing the Tilt-a-Whirl is out right now?"
"God, shut up. Just give me an hour, okay? I'll be fine in an hour."
"So, what, you want me to just sit here with you for an hour while the fair happens?" Jensen wouldn't actually mind, if it came to that.
"No, hang on." Jared heaves himself laboriously to his feet. "It goes faster if I don't sit still. I can, like, watch you toss rings or something."
Jensen grins sharply. "I kick ass at throwing stuff. Let's go."
They start at the stall with darts and balloons. Jensen looks carefully at his darts before throwing; this can't be as easy as it looks. Sure enough, the points are dull. Jensen shakes his head, throws with an arc, and pops five balloons with three darts.
"You want the prize or a shot at the bigger ones?" the stall guys asks.
Jensen looks at the huge plush toys, then the smaller ones, and quirks an eyebrow at Jared. "Somebody's gotta carry it around if I win, is all I'm saying."
"Go for the dragon," Jared says instantly. "I will absolutely carry the dragon."
Dragon it is, then.
Next he does the ring toss, then whack-a-mole, then the duck pond and the shooting gallery, and by the end of it Jared's looking a lot less ill, carrying a giant blue dragon the size of his torso and wearing a red-and-white Dr. Seuss hat and a stuffed boa constrictor, trying to cool himself off with a massive Chinese fan.
"You have to take something," says Jared. "I'm gonna die of heat stroke."
"See if I ever give you anything again," Jensen retorts, mock-hurt. "Here, gimme the snake. You want me to carry the dragon, too?"
Jared clutches the dragon tighter. "Clarence stays with me."
"Clarence, huh?"
Jared nods defiantly. "You win me a dragon, you don't get to take him back."
"I suppose that's fair."
A peculiar look crosses Jared's face. "Except when necessary," he amends, pushing his armful at Jensen and unwinding the snake from his neck. "Bathroom."
Jensen shakes his head, amused. It was pretty much inevitable.
After a little longer, Jared announces himself fit for rides.
"Are you sure?" Jensen is skeptical.
"If it makes you feel better, we can start with the Ferris wheel," Jared says. "But I promise I'm fine."
"We should probably ditch this stuff if we're going on rides," Jensen says. Jared opens his mouth to protest, then closes it when he realizes that Clarence would take up a whole seat himself.
"Fine," he sighs. They detour back to the Jeep, toss everything in the back and return to the midway unencumbered.
"I'm holding you to the Ferris wheel," Jensen warns. Jared looks like he's fine, but he did eat eleven hot dogs just a couple of hours ago. There is a definite risk factor here.
Jared rolls his eyes. "If you insist."
Jared's stomach proves stable under the forces of the Ferris wheel, so Jensen certifies him tentatively ride-proof.
They go on everything, even the crappy lame funhouse with the obstacle course and the mirror maze. It turns out that Jared is a shark at bumper cars, and when they come off the floor after their first stint, Jensen is kind of in awe.
"Dude, you are vicious."
Jared preens slightly. "What can I say? I have a lot of pent-up aggression."
Jensen has to laugh.
They end up spending a whole hour just looping through the bumper car lineup, because while Jensen could take it or leave it, it's clear that it's pretty much Jared's favourite thing ever. After that it's the spider, because Jensen kind of likes being flung around at high speeds, and then the Tilt-a-Whirl, and then Jared announces,
"I'm hungry."
Jensen stares.
"You're kidding, right?"
"I never kid about food," Jared says.
"But," protests Jensen. "Roller coaster?" Jensen has never been on a roller coaster in his life. He's pretty set on trying it.
Jared shrugs. "I can do a roller coaster on a full stomach." Jensen gives him the eyebrows. "No, really," Jared insists, "I'm back at cast-iron equilibrium. And I'm a growing boy, Jensen." He pulls out the plaintive eyes, which is just not fair at all. "I need to keep up my strength."
"The hell you're still growing," Jensen retorts. "What are you, six-three?"
"Something like that," Jared confirms cheerily. "So, I'm thinking deep fried pizza and funnel cake, for starters."
Jensen throws caution to the wind. "Awesome. Let's do this."
They wander around eating for a while. Jensen's pretty happy that nobody's harassing them. Apparently when Jake's not around people can't be bothered and just ignore Jared, and they haven't seen Jake since the eating contest. It's getting toward evening; the shadows have been gradually stretching longer and longer across the fairgrounds, and the sun is dipping low above the trees.
Jensen's phone buzzes in his pocket while he and Jared are in line for cotton candy.
"Hey, J Dad."
"Careful, there. You boys having fun?"
"Yeah." He looks over at Jared, who's gazing up at the lighted sign in front of them, the same smile on his face that he's worn for most of the day. "It's awesome." Jared looks over, then, and his smile grows, turning into something brighter and happier, agreeing with Jensen. Jensen feels his own face responding, almost an involuntary function of being around Jared.
"Good to hear. I know you don't want me to tell you this right now, but this is an especially bad time to let your guard down."
Jensen closes his eyes briefly. "I know, Dad." He does know. It's always there, running underneath everything he does. Any second he might be attacked, regardless of how hard Jeff works to try to see it coming.
It just sucks to have it dug up when he's been having such a good time.
"Sorry to bring you down. I'm glad you're having fun, Jensen. Just don't be too late, all right?"
"Define 'late'," Jensen hedges, and Jeff laughs, cracked and digitized through the cell connection.
"I'm going to go ahead and let you use your judgement on that one. I'll see you when I see you."
"Thanks. See you."
By the time he ends the call, Jared's ordered for both of them, and Jensen is powerless to change the fact that he is abruptly possessed of a large ball of sugar fluff bundled around a paper cone, rather than the bagged deliciousness he had intended to purchase.
"Must everything be on a stick?" he demands as they move away from the cart. "This is incredibly awkward."
"Bagged cotton candy is for losers," Jared proclaims.
It warms something in Jensen that Jared implicitly excludes himself from that category. It's not a major shift in attitude, or anything, but it's noticeable to anyone watching for it, like Jensen is. Jared's changed.
They both get cotton candy all over their faces. It's not the end of the world.
It's getting dark.
The lights of the fairground are screamingly bright against the sky, obliterating the first shy stars. There's noise and music all around, a crowd of strangers in a strange land, fewer children and more adults as day shifts into night.
Jared and Jensen are sitting on a bench eating ice cream. Jared can't remember the last time he was this happy.
"I'm going to be totally honest with you," Jensen is saying, "I just don't think I'm really a roller coaster person. It is just not my thing."
Jared feels warm and fond. "Don't hold back," he says. "Tell me how you really feel."
"Shut up." Jensen shoves against him with his shoulder and just kind of stays there. His hoodie sleeve is soft against Jared's bare arm.
"So the big question," says Jared, "is this: what are your thoughts on corn mazes?"
Jensen opens his mouth, then pauses. "I actually don't have any. I've never thought about corn mazes one way or another."
"I want to pretend like I'm giving you a choice here," Jared says, "but, I'm sorry, I cannot let you go through life never having done a corn maze."
Jensen looks up at him with that sidelong glance of his that makes Jared's stomach flip. "Got no choice, huh?"
"Nope," Jared gets out. "None. I'm taking you through the corn maze whether you like it or not."
"I suppose I can live with that." Jensen finishes the point of his cone and wipes his mouth on the napkin. "Hey," he says, looking at Jared's arm, "are you cold? That looks like goosebumps." He tucks his hand into his sleeve and rubs at Jared's forearm with the fabric.
"I guess I am." He hadn't really noticed, but the warm tingles in the wake of Jensen's touch are making it more apparent. "I've got a jacket back in the Jeep."
Jensen sighs loudly, all put-upon, and stands up. "Would it kill you to plan ahead?"
"This is me planning ahead, jerk."
"Obviously you should have worn the jacket in the heat of the afternoon to spare me ten minutes' walk."
"Obviously."
They're almost to the gates of the grounds already. It's not even five minutes to the Jeep, and Jared quickly retrieves his jacket and the emergency flashlight his mother keeps in the glove compartment.
"What's that for?" Jensen demands.
Jared flicks the flashlight on and holds it under his chin. "They don't light the maze, rookie. This is all that stands between us and getting completely, irrevocably lost." Jared resolutely ignores the part of him that would actually really love to get completely and irrevocably lost with Jensen. "Lucky for you," he says, "I plan ahead."
Jensen shakes his head, grinning. "You know the moon's coming up soon, right?" he says.
Jared shoves him. "Let me have my moment of drama."
"Whatever you say, princess."
"Weak," Jared declares. "Try again."
"Nah, I'll pass. I'm not that invested in insulting you."
They make their way back through the fairgrounds and out the other side, where the corn maze is set just far enough away from the bright lights that it seems especially dark by contrast. They step up to pay, and Jensen, looking over at the maze entrance, says,
"Hey, isn't that Katie?"
Jared looks over and sees curly blonde hair disappearing into the maze. "Probably," he says with a shrug. It's not that he doesn't like Katie. He just doesn't like how Jensen always notices when she's around.
It's not like he doesn't know he's unreasonable about Jensen.
"If you walk it perfect it takes an hour," says the girl taking their money.
"Perfectly," Jared mutters under his breath, and Jensen elbows him lightly.
"But most people take about an hour and a half to two," she goes on, "and sometimes even three if you're really bad at it."
"Thanks," Jared says, and walks into the maze with Jensen beside him.
The corn is a good eight feet high this year. Jared remembers feeling tiny when he came in here as a kid, completely dwarfed by the towering stalks all around him. He still feels pretty small. There's a breeze rustling the dry leaves and husks, papery sharp, and from the rest of the maze come the muffled sounds of talking, laughing, the occasional scream as someone gets a scare from a friend. It still feels private, somehow, him and Jensen surrounded and isolated by the tall corn.
"Dude," says Jensen. "Flashlight?"
Jared flicks it on, and they venture forward.
Jared normally has a decent sense of direction, but something about the corn maze just screws with him, every time. He usually counts on taking at least twice as long as the perfect run.
After the sixth turn he has no idea which way is out anymore, and he figures he should come clean.
"You might have already guessed," he says to Jensen, "but I'm really bad at this."
"I was beginning to suspect."
"So unless your sense of direction is even worse than mine, I suggest following your lead if we want to get out in decent time."
Jensen stops walking. Jared freezes, looking back at him with trepidation. Surely Jensen won't suggest just going back. That would really suck, and also be utterly humiliating, and it's not like they'll never get out, Jared just doesn't navigate well in the dark surrounded by corn. It's a thing.
"Actually," Jensen says, and Jared braces himself, "I think you should lead. I'm sort of fascinated by your decision-making process."
"I don't really have one," Jared admits.
"Exactly. It's hilarious."
Jared huffs a little, masking a laugh. "Maybe I should just let you find your own way out." He turns and walks quickly around the next corner, leaving Jensen behind.
"Jared, wait!" He sounds panicked, and Jared is sure Jensen's screwing with him until a hand latches onto his sleeve.
"What-" he begins, turning to look at Jensen.
"Don't do that," says Jensen. His eyes look huge, reflecting the diffuse edge of the flashlight beam. "Just. Don't, okay?"
Jared didn't figure Jensen for the type of person to get scared of being left alone in a maze. He reminds himself that, in fact, he hasn't known Jensen all that long. There are probably lots of things he doesn't know about him.
There's certainly a thing or two that Jensen doesn't know about Jared.
"Fine," says Jared, "okay. Sorry."
"Don't apologise," Jensen mumbles. "Just don't do it again. No running off on your own. I mean it."
"Might do it by accident," Jared can't help pointing out. "Get ahead of you at a corner or something. It's not like I'm glued to you."
Jensen sighs shortly, an annoyed little huff. "Fine." He lets go of Jared's sleeve and takes Jared's hand in a solid grip. "There. Fixed."
Jensen is holding Jared's hand.
Jensen's hand is a little smaller than Jared's, a little callused, and incredibly warm. The sensation of the contact spreads through Jared like electricity, static shock of pleasant tension, and he can't even think for a second.
Finally he says, "I guess that works," and it comes out only a little strangled-sounding. He's grateful that no one, especially Jake, can see them right now. Jensen clearly doesn't mean anything by it, and Jared would hate to see him harassed over a misinterpretation.
"Damn straight it works," says Jensen. "Hell with following your lead, I'm navigating. Let's go."
An hour and a half later, the maze is starting to seem endless.
Jensen is at least relatively certain that he's retained his sense of direction. Other than that, it's anyone's guess. He's never liked being closed in, and the longer they're in here the less likely it seems that they'll ever get out. At this point it seems almost plausible that someone is creating new maze as he and Jared progress, so that they will never find an exit, but remain trapped in an endless corn field until they die.
Realistically, they're probably almost through.
Jensen is still hanging onto Jared. A couple of times he's thought about letting go, but then he remembers the way his throat closed up when Jared disappeared around the corner.
It's not so much that he's afraid to be alone in the maze. He's afraid for Jared to be alone in the maze.
He's pretty sure it's not a reasonable fear. It's not like Jared will get lost forever or be in any real danger. It's not like Jared's people are targeted for extinction. Well, not yet, anyway. But the cold twist in the pit of his stomach and the sudden constriction of breath overrode reason and drove him to make certain Jared didn't stray into danger, away from Jensen.
It's probably the reverse of cool, holding hands in a corn maze like scared children, but cool has been the least of Jensen's worries for a while now.
"When I was thirteen they did a haunted maze," Jared is saying. "Never again, man. You like to think you're not afraid of the dark, and then bam."
"Any thirteen-year-old thinks he's not afraid of the dark," Jensen observes, "he's kidding himself."
"I feel like everyone is afraid of the dark," Jared says. "Like this primal thing, you know? Dark is when the predators happen."
A chill breeze sweeps along the path, and Jensen shivers in his thin hoodie. "Yeah," he says, moving a little closer to Jared's warmth. "I think you're probably right."
Up ahead, there's a T-intersection: they can't go straight. Jensen stops in the intersection, looking both ways. Right is most likely to be the direction of the exit, but it's possible this is another misdirect. On the other hand, by Jensen's reckoning, they're too close to the end for something like that to be effective. He hopes.
Jensen goes right.
Three turns and a snake bend later, the light starts to change.
"Jensen, look," says Jared excitedly, squeezing his hand. "I think we're almost out."
"I think you might be right." Hope rises in Jensen like something alive, and he suddenly realizes just how much he dislikes this maze. It's been time-consuming and frustrating and basically the only good thing about it is that he's with Jared. "Come on," he says, and breaks into a run, dragging Jared with him.
And they're out.
"Yes!" Jared crows, throwing victory arms in the air, Jensen's hand lifted up in Jared's grasp like a prizefighter's fist. "We did it!"
"You held the flashlight," Jensen concedes graciously.
"Hell yes I did. I hold a flashlight like a boss." Jared lets go of Jensen's hand to offer a high five. Jensen takes it. "Shit, what time is it? I'm starving."
Jensen has to laugh. The corn is cut back all around them, but it resumes a few yards beyond the perimeter of the maze, standing tall and moon-silvered between the cleared area and the windbreak. An arrow-shaped sign reading "CIVILIZATION" points to the right, so they head that way, making their way back around the maze's perimeter to get back to the main fairground. Jensen can see the Ferris wheel rising up beyond the maze.
There's a rustling in the corn on his left, and before Jensen can put a cause to the noise he's being tackled to the ground, wind pounded out of him. He hears Jared, shocked, angry, and someone is taking Jared away.
A heavy body is on top of Jensen, holding him down, and Jensen gets his leg around and flips them, slamming his assailant into the ground and using the momentum to push himself to his feet.
"Jensen!" Jared's voice sounds close, but Jensen can't see him anywhere. Panic flares up, worse than in the maze: Jared is out of his sight, Jared is in danger. Two more dark shapes materialise out of the corn and grab Jensen by the arms, trying to immobilise him, and that's it, no more holding back. Jared needs him. These idiots don't matter. They're keeping him away from Jared. They don't deserve consideration.
Calling on his Legacy, he slams outward with the force of his anger, on the edge of his control; his hands are glowing from the intensity of the burst that propels his attackers away from him. He hasn't been this angry since he started training, and a sick delight cracks open inside him when his power responds so easily, an extension of his will. The two boys he's flung away land hard.
"Jensen!" he hears again, faint now and bitten off, like someone's trying to silence Jared. They must be taking him away through the cornfield. The boy who tackled him is struggling up, looking murderous, blocking the way to Jared, and Jensen says, "Come on," in a voice he doesn't recognise.
A brief scuffle later, the boy is on the ground and Jensen is off through the corn. Part of his mind registers that someone's following him, clumsy and a little slow - one of his attackers must still be conscious. He'll take care of him if and when it becomes necessary. Right now, what is necessary is getting to Jared.
"Jared?" he bellows, slowing a little to listen. "Jared!" He hears nothing. Nearing the windbreak, he sees a shadow move, and veers toward it.
Before he catches up with the shadow, he can tell it's not Jared, and he grabs the shadow with his will and throws it into a tree. A winded, cracked-sounding curse escapes the shadow. When Jensen gets close enough to see his pinned prey, he sees it's Jake's friend from the eating contest, Mitch Something.
"What the hell are you," says Mitch, staring like a caught rabbit. "What the fuck."
"Where's Jared?" Jensen demands. Mitch wheezes at the extra force attached to the question.
"Shit, man," he gasps. "You're insane."
"Where is he?"
"Abel has him. That way." Mitch points jerkily. Jensen lets him drop, takes off running.
He doesn't call out anymore. His footfalls are far from silent, but neither are they loud. He hears noise ahead of him, snapping of small branches, thuds, grunts; sounds of a struggle. Jensen bursts out of the trees.
The far side of the windbreak is fallow. By the light of the half-moon, Jensen can see everything: Jared, bent double over Jake's fist, another football player holding Jared's arms behind his back.
Jensen lets his rage out and the scene is flooded with blue light.
"Let him go."
Startled, Jake's lackey loosens his grip on Jared, and Jensen forcibly loosens it the rest of the way so he can get him off without hurting Jared. The guy disappears past the tree line, pushed away with a thought, and Jensen turns his focus to Jake, who still has Jared by the collar and is staring at Jensen with something between horror and disgust.
"Shoulda known you'd come to"
"Shut up." He closes Jake's mouth for him. "Let go of Jared." Jake pulls his hand back instantly, eyes wide. "Good choice."
Jared crumples to his knees, and something in Jensen knocks back into focus.
"Get out of here," he tells Jake, "before I change my mind.
Jake bolts.
"Jared. Jared, are you okay, fuck," Jensen is saying, "look at me, is anything broken?" Jared feels hands on his shoulders, then patting him down, checking him over, Jensen's hands all over him, frantically gentle.
Breathing is still a production. It's probably not smart to try to talk yet, given how his solar plexus and his lungs are fighting over whether or not his diaphragm should move, but Jensen sounds like he's going out of his mind, and Jared wants to reassure him.
"Not," he gets out, "broken."
Jensen doesn't stop his check, but once he's satisfied himself of the truth of that, he loses a fraction of his agitation. He takes Jared's face in his hands, tilts it up to the moonlight and examines it. Jake got in a decent hit or two there; Jared might end up with a black eye, he's not sure. He can feel blood trickling sluggishly down from the split over his cheekbone and his mouth tastes like iron and salt.
"I'm gonna kill him," Jensen mutters, eyes darting over Jared's face, taking in the damage. "God, Jared, I can't believe he" he cuts himself off, swallows. His face looks broken open, everything he's feeling spilling all over the place. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Jared's almost breathing normally now, down to a slight wheeze. He turns his head to one side and spits blood. "Jake's the bastard who keeps taking out his self-loathing on me."
Jensen's hands settle, one grasping Jared's collar lightly, the other supporting his head, like Jared can't keep it up himself. Maybe he can't. It's hard to say. "For not getting here in time. For not protecting you."
"That's not your job," Jared starts to say, but Jensen hauls him in close, hand still cradling his head, other arm coming around his shoulder, holding Jared.
Jared melts into it. He can't not. He turns his head so his face is blood-upward on Jensen's shoulder and slides his arms around Jensen's waist, clinging to the back of the soft green hoodie. Their moon shadow stretches out across the ground, the two of them making one shape, crouched together in the fallow earth.
The reality of the last ten minutes rolls over him. Two of Jake's friends, shorter but bigger, grabbing him, propelling him through the corn against his will, picking him up and carrying him when he fought them; dumped in front of Jake, allowed to get to his feet only to be railed at, viciously cursed, then struck at, held in place when he tried to dodge, to defend himself, to leave.
Then Jensen came. Jensen, who demanded Jared's release. Jensen, who somehow made Jake and his buddy leave Jared alone without touching them. Jensen, who were his hands actually glowing? His hands were actually glowing.
What.
"I saw," he says, before his better judgement kicks in. Jensen stiffens, but doesn't pull back. "I saw your hands." Jared finds himself curious more than anything else. This is Jensen, after all. He trusts Jensen. If Jensen's hands were glowing, Jared is sure there must be a good reason.
"I," Jensen begins, and Jared can feel it, can tell that Jensen wants to lie.
"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't tell me unless it's the truth. I might be a little concussed here but I can still tell what's real. I saw the light. What was it?" He tightens his arms a little around Jensen, trying for reassurance, maybe. Now is not the time for them to start being strangers. "Please."
He reads Jensen's tension for another moment or two, fractional shifts of indecision, and then Jensen makes up his mind, shifting his grip on Jared, combing his fingers through Jared's hair, just once, before his hand settles onto the nape of Jared's neck, warm and secure, his thumb just under Jared's ear.
"I'd say you should be sitting for this," Jensen begins, "but, well."
Jared waits.
"I Jared. Your dad was right about everything. I'm not" Jensen swallows hard. "Not human. I, my planet is called Lorien. No one lives there now. Everyone was killed. Except nine of us, well, plus our guardians, we were sent here, we're supposed to be some kind of elite force but we grew up on Earth and I've never even met them and three of us are dead and I might be next."
"What killed the three?" Jared is sure he has more pertinent questions, but that's the one that comes out.
"We call them Mogadorians. They hunt other races for sport."
"Are they coming to Earth?"
"They're here."
Jared goes cold. "What?"
Jensen pulls back, just far enough to look Jared in the eye. "They're not after humans. They're after us."
Jared takes it in. Jensen waits, watching him, and their arms are still around each other and this is still the same Jensen that has been the best friend Jared's ever had. And Jensen's life is in danger.
There are too many questions. Some will have to keep.
"Besides the light," Jared says finally, "what else can you do?"
Jensen doesn't move. Jensen doesn't move, and his hood rises up to settle over his head, obscuring his face in its shadow.
"And I'm working on becoming completely impervious," he says.
Telekinesis.
Jensen is telekinetic. And a light source. And apparently damage-resistant.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jared is certain that those things are not things that normal people would be turned on by.
Jared gave up on normal years ago.
"Holy shit," is all he can say. Jensen is just sitting there with one arm still looped around Jared's neck, face a breath away but unreadable, waiting for Jared to react to this life-altering information. All Jared can think is that he wants to kiss Jensen more than he has ever wanted anything in his entire life. "Holy shit, Jensen." He can't, can't stop himself from moving forward, but he makes himself go for a slim pretense of platonic contact instead, skims his face along the side of Jensen's, his cheek to Jensen's temple, all but igniting on contact. Jensen's hood gets pushed back down and Jared leans into him, into the fever heat of his face and the truth of his confession.
Dad was right.
Jensen makes this scraped-dry husk of a sound, like he expected something completely different from what Jared's given him, and turns his face into Jared's, butterfly kiss of eyelashes along Jared's last unbruised span of jaw, warm breath on Jared's throat.
It's too much, it's too intense, the intimate press of Jensen's face against his, the infinite stretch of this moment. He can't handle it. He wants it never to end.
Finally, Jensen takes a huge, shaky breath. "I was so sure you'd be pissed," he says, sounding a bit lost.
"You're an idiot," Jared says. He squeezes Jensen extra hard before starting to extricate himself, unable to keep from pressing a kiss to Jensen's temple as he goes. Jensen lets go reluctantly. It's like they've both forgotten how to exist in their own space, hands repositioning but not quite leaving one another.
Jensen catches sight of Jared's bloody face again and shakes his head. "We've gotta get you home, man." He stands and holds out a hand, grabbing Jared's wrist when he reaches up, hauling him to his feet. Nobody overbalances this time. They're standing close because there is no other way to be right now.
Jared's stomach is still sore. He tries to straighten up completely and fails, grimacing and returning to a partial hunch. Jensen, right there already, slides in under Jared's arm without a word. Gratefully, Jared drapes an arm across Jensen's shoulders and takes the support, and they head into the trees.
It's a long way back to the parking lot.
Jared tries to go for the driver's side of the Jeep.
"Nuh-uh," Jensen says. "Give me the keys, Concussion Boy."
"We don't know that I have a concussion. I can totally drive," Jared says stubbornly.
"Show me you can stand first." Jensen lets go. Jared wobbles and catches himself on the hood. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Screw you. How are you going to get home, then?"
Jensen shrugs. "I can walk. Not a big deal. Keys?" He holds out his hand.
Jared tries to stare him down. Jensen is not about to be stared down. Finally Jared sighs and digs into his pocket. "Here." He holds them out, not looking at Jensen.
Jensen reaches out to take them and closes his fingers around Jared's hand as well. "Hey." Jared looks up, meeting his eye. "You took multiple blows to the head, man. You just got beat on."
"Beaten on," Jared corrects automatically.
Jensen smiles a little. Jared's still with it. "Exactly. So please," he says, squeezing Jared's hand, "will you let me drive you home so I don't have to worry?"
Jared's shoulders drop. "All right," he says. "Yeah."
"Thank you."
Jared makes it into the Jeep under his own steam, Jensen watching anxiously. Only when the door shuts on him and he's fighting with his seat belt does Jensen get into the driver's seat.
"You're going to have to direct me," he says.
"Head for Seventh and Church," Jared says, "and I'll tell you from there."
Aside from directions, the drive is quiet. Jensen glances over once in a while to make sure Jared hasn't passed out, but Jared just watches the road, a little glassy-eyed. Jensen hopes he won't catch shit from his stepdad for getting in a fight. That would just be perfect.
Jared's house is dark when they pull up. It's only ten, but Jared says, "They were going to go out tonight. They're probably not back yet," and Jensen thanks whatever luck is with them and pulls into the covered side driveway at Jared's direction.
He jumps out immediately and goes around to help Jared out. It's harder getting him to his feet than either of them anticipated, and once the door is closed again it's almost too dark to see.
"Can you get inside okay?" Jensen asks. "Should I come in? You need to get cleaned up, maybe I should have taken you to the hospital"
"Jensen." Jared takes him by the shoulders. "You are freaking out. I am" he cuts himself off with a weak laugh. "Okay, I am so not fine, but I will live through the night. I am capable of sitting on the edge of a bathtub and using a washcloth. Mostly I need to drink some water and go to sleep. And maybe eat something."
"If you throw up, call me," Jensen says instantly. He knows about concussions. He had one once.
"I will." Jared's voice is soft. He needs to sleep. Jensen's keeping him in the driveway when he should be inside taking care of himself.
Jensen can't make himself pull away from Jared's grip.
"Just," he says, taking hold of Jared's wrists, and then finds he has no more words to string behind the first.
"I know," says Jared. "Me, too." He leans down until their foreheads are touching, and they stand there for a moment, just sharing space. Jensen closes his eyes.
But Jared needs to get inside. Jensen takes a breath to fortify himself and pulls back a fraction of an inch.
"Call me in the morning," he says. "Or before."
"I will," Jared promises.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Jensen's hands are still around Jared's wrists. Jared's hands are still on Jensen's shoulders. Jensen moves his hands up to cover Jared's, pull them off, and then he ends up with Jared's hands in his, and if he lets go then Jared will be out of his care, out of his protection.
Logically, this has to happen.
He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can leave Jared alone. "Okay," he says again. "I need to go." Some odd instinct overtakes him, and he leans up to brush his lips over Jared's split cheek, a healing benediction of a kiss. "Call me," he repeats, and lets go before he can't anymore.
"I will," Jared says, once again, and Jensen retreats.
Part 4
Jared's mother has excused him from Saturday chores on the grounds that the fair only happens once a year. Jared is profoundly grateful.
Even though he continues to tell himself this is not a date, this is not a date, he can't help agonising over his clothes. Eventually he runs out of time for dithering and goes with a dark grey t-shirt that he knows looks decent and his most comfortable jeans. When he looks at himself in the mirror, his hair isn't doing anything weird, which is really all he asks of it. He throws a jacket in the Jeep in case it gets cold later.
"Have fun, sweetie!" his mother calls from the porch. He waves and pulls out.
Jensen gave his address as north on Elm and just go until the road stops, which takes him to a vaguely shabby-looking blue two-storey on a huge lot where the vegetation looks like it's basically been allowed to do as it pleases. Sadie comes dashing up to greet him as soon as he pulls up, so he gets out and crouches down to say hi.
"Hey," he hears, and looks up to see Jensen coming down the steps, the door swinging shut in his wake. He's wearing a faded blue hoodie that looks extremely soft over a white t-shirt, along with old worn jeans that Jared has dubbed his favourite because of how they cling to Jensen exactly right. Jared diverts his impulse to touch by giving Sadie some more love.
"Hey," he responds, as Sadie makes small blissful noises and snuggles in close. Jensen laughs.
"Sadie, come on, baby girl, you gotta let him go," he says, kneeling next to Jared and rubbing his thumb over her head. "I think we need to get you two some hangout time," he says to Jared. "She totally loves you."
"So let's take her out next weekend," Jared says, feeling bold.
"Can we take her to your spot? That rock'll be like heaven. She'll adore you for life." Jensen grins.
"Yeah, sure, if it's still warm. But not right now," he says, speaking directly to Sadie, who looks up at him plaintively and whimpers. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, okay?" He smooths his hands over her flanks one last time and pats her on the rump. Sadie seems to understand, licking first him and then Jensen in succession and turning to trot away around the side of the house.
Jared stands up, and Jensen stands up but overbalances slightly and bumps into Jared, and Jared steadies Jensen with a hand on his arm. A lot like how they met in the first place, actually. Jensen says "Sorry," laughing, hand planted in the middle of Jared's chest, and Jared shakes his head and can't stop smiling.
"Shall we?" Jared asks, reluctantly pulling away.
"Let's go," Jensen answers, and heads around to the passenger door.
The drive out to the fairgrounds only takes about ten minutes, and as they approach, Jared glances over at Jensen, who's wearing his delight openly on his face.
"You've never been to a fair before?" It seems a little surprising, seeing as Jensen's from Texas.
"Like once," Jensen says, "when I was little. This is awesome."
Jared shakes his head and finds a place to park.
It's a gorgeous day, almost no clouds and just enough breeze to take the edge off the sunshine. The fair is loud and crowded, animals for display and judging off to the left, craft and trade show to the right, and the midway up the centre.
"By the way," says Jensen as they enter the grounds, "I'm challenging you to the eating contest. Hope you didn't eat breakfast."
"You little shit," says Jared. "Lucky I was counting on that and only ate a half-breakfast."
"Lucky," Jensen agrees.
They gravitate toward the animals first, sounds of clucking and lowing and grunting and squealing becoming audible as they move away from the noise of the midway. It smells like manure and feed and livestock, and Jared kind of loves it.
"Dude," Jensen says reverently. "Do you think that pig can even stand?"
There's a petting zoo down at the end, which Jensen insists on patronising. Jared does not object. It's almost as good watching Jensen make adorably charmed faces while petting the lambs and kids as it is getting to pet them himself.
By the time they're through there, it's eleven thirty.
"Eating contest in half an hour," Jensen observes.
"Apple bobbing comes first," Jared points out. "Wanna watch?"
They watch.
The event stage is at the top of the midway and they join the crowd gathered to see the contestants bobbing for apples. It's an all-ages contest; the youngest competitor looks about six and has to stand on a box.
"That kid is gonna drown," Jensen says with concern.
"Ohio girls are tough," Jared says. "I say look out for that one."
The little girl comes in third, after a skinny teenaged redhead with braces and the first-prize winner, an old man who looks at least eighty.
"Is it cheating if you're using fake teeth?" Jensen demands, and Jared's laughing too hard to answer him before they call for entrants to the eating contest.
The competitors assemble off to the side while the stage is reset with long tables. Jared notices that Jake and one of his minions are among the entrants a few seconds before Jake notices him; when he does, his usual expression of smug superiority manifests, and Jared is struck with an absolutely insane idea.
"Jensen," Jared says, "back me up?"
Jensen looks quizzical but nods, and Jared leads the way over to where Jake is standing.
"If it isn't the Wonder Twins," Jake sneers. "Come to get your asses kicked?"
"You seem pretty confident," Jared says.
"Hell yeah I am," Jake says.
"You know this is a hot dog eating contest," Jared says conversationally.
"Yeah, so?" Jake's confidence is unperturbed.
"So you're looking to show the world how fast you can swallow a bunch of wieners," Jared concludes.
"Unlike you," Jensen pipes up, "we don't have a reputation to uphold. We're kind of proud of our skill set."
Jared almost chokes at that, but adds as a parting shot: "You might want to think about what victory actually means here."
Jake is turning red, visibly grasping for a comeback, while his buddy seems to be struggling not to laugh. Jared turns around and walks away to the other side of the waiting area, Jensen at his side.
By the time they get there, Jensen is shaking with suppressed mirth, and Jared's laughter bursts out uncontrollably.
"Shut up, shut up," he entreats uselessly as Jensen joins him, both of them laughing their asses off. "We don't want to make him madder."
"Yes we do," Jensen gets out, and that sets Jared off again.
They barely manage to calm themselves down when the master of ceremonies calls for order and begins to explain the rules. Jensen hiccups a last giggle and Jared steps on his foot.
Then they're all trooping up onstage and arranging themselves along the tables, facing out at the crowd, and Jared takes a moment to lament that, as usual, he won't be able to stomach another hot dog until after Christmas.
The platters are set before them.
"Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen. And... start!"
"So help me god," says Jared, "I am never doing that again."
"Let me guess," Jensen says. "You say that every year."
"Just shut up and let me die," Jared groans.
"I have a question: have you ever actually won?"
"I have a question: were you even trying?" Jared snipes back.
"Nope," Jensen says evenly. He would have won, hands down, if he'd been trying, which is why he held back considerably, restricting himself to eight hot dogs in the time allotted. Jared somehow choked down eleven.
It got him second place. The winner, a tall, athletic-looking girl that Jensen recognises from school, ate fifteen hot dogs in five minutes.
Jensen figures he could have done twenty. But then he would be as miserable as Jared is right now, plus he's pretty sure it would have raised some eyebrows.
"Son of a bitch," Jared moans, flopping pathetically on the bench. He looks like some kind of dying marine mammal.
"Hey," Jensen points out, "at least we both beat Jake."
"Don't make me laugh," Jared warns. "Don't. You will not like the consequences."
"So I'm guessing the Tilt-a-Whirl is out right now?"
"God, shut up. Just give me an hour, okay? I'll be fine in an hour."
"So, what, you want me to just sit here with you for an hour while the fair happens?" Jensen wouldn't actually mind, if it came to that.
"No, hang on." Jared heaves himself laboriously to his feet. "It goes faster if I don't sit still. I can, like, watch you toss rings or something."
Jensen grins sharply. "I kick ass at throwing stuff. Let's go."
They start at the stall with darts and balloons. Jensen looks carefully at his darts before throwing; this can't be as easy as it looks. Sure enough, the points are dull. Jensen shakes his head, throws with an arc, and pops five balloons with three darts.
"You want the prize or a shot at the bigger ones?" the stall guys asks.
Jensen looks at the huge plush toys, then the smaller ones, and quirks an eyebrow at Jared. "Somebody's gotta carry it around if I win, is all I'm saying."
"Go for the dragon," Jared says instantly. "I will absolutely carry the dragon."
Dragon it is, then.
Next he does the ring toss, then whack-a-mole, then the duck pond and the shooting gallery, and by the end of it Jared's looking a lot less ill, carrying a giant blue dragon the size of his torso and wearing a red-and-white Dr. Seuss hat and a stuffed boa constrictor, trying to cool himself off with a massive Chinese fan.
"You have to take something," says Jared. "I'm gonna die of heat stroke."
"See if I ever give you anything again," Jensen retorts, mock-hurt. "Here, gimme the snake. You want me to carry the dragon, too?"
Jared clutches the dragon tighter. "Clarence stays with me."
"Clarence, huh?"
Jared nods defiantly. "You win me a dragon, you don't get to take him back."
"I suppose that's fair."
A peculiar look crosses Jared's face. "Except when necessary," he amends, pushing his armful at Jensen and unwinding the snake from his neck. "Bathroom."
Jensen shakes his head, amused. It was pretty much inevitable.
After a little longer, Jared announces himself fit for rides.
"Are you sure?" Jensen is skeptical.
"If it makes you feel better, we can start with the Ferris wheel," Jared says. "But I promise I'm fine."
"We should probably ditch this stuff if we're going on rides," Jensen says. Jared opens his mouth to protest, then closes it when he realizes that Clarence would take up a whole seat himself.
"Fine," he sighs. They detour back to the Jeep, toss everything in the back and return to the midway unencumbered.
"I'm holding you to the Ferris wheel," Jensen warns. Jared looks like he's fine, but he did eat eleven hot dogs just a couple of hours ago. There is a definite risk factor here.
Jared rolls his eyes. "If you insist."
Jared's stomach proves stable under the forces of the Ferris wheel, so Jensen certifies him tentatively ride-proof.
They go on everything, even the crappy lame funhouse with the obstacle course and the mirror maze. It turns out that Jared is a shark at bumper cars, and when they come off the floor after their first stint, Jensen is kind of in awe.
"Dude, you are vicious."
Jared preens slightly. "What can I say? I have a lot of pent-up aggression."
Jensen has to laugh.
They end up spending a whole hour just looping through the bumper car lineup, because while Jensen could take it or leave it, it's clear that it's pretty much Jared's favourite thing ever. After that it's the spider, because Jensen kind of likes being flung around at high speeds, and then the Tilt-a-Whirl, and then Jared announces,
"I'm hungry."
Jensen stares.
"You're kidding, right?"
"I never kid about food," Jared says.
"But," protests Jensen. "Roller coaster?" Jensen has never been on a roller coaster in his life. He's pretty set on trying it.
Jared shrugs. "I can do a roller coaster on a full stomach." Jensen gives him the eyebrows. "No, really," Jared insists, "I'm back at cast-iron equilibrium. And I'm a growing boy, Jensen." He pulls out the plaintive eyes, which is just not fair at all. "I need to keep up my strength."
"The hell you're still growing," Jensen retorts. "What are you, six-three?"
"Something like that," Jared confirms cheerily. "So, I'm thinking deep fried pizza and funnel cake, for starters."
Jensen throws caution to the wind. "Awesome. Let's do this."
They wander around eating for a while. Jensen's pretty happy that nobody's harassing them. Apparently when Jake's not around people can't be bothered and just ignore Jared, and they haven't seen Jake since the eating contest. It's getting toward evening; the shadows have been gradually stretching longer and longer across the fairgrounds, and the sun is dipping low above the trees.
Jensen's phone buzzes in his pocket while he and Jared are in line for cotton candy.
"Hey, J Dad."
"Careful, there. You boys having fun?"
"Yeah." He looks over at Jared, who's gazing up at the lighted sign in front of them, the same smile on his face that he's worn for most of the day. "It's awesome." Jared looks over, then, and his smile grows, turning into something brighter and happier, agreeing with Jensen. Jensen feels his own face responding, almost an involuntary function of being around Jared.
"Good to hear. I know you don't want me to tell you this right now, but this is an especially bad time to let your guard down."
Jensen closes his eyes briefly. "I know, Dad." He does know. It's always there, running underneath everything he does. Any second he might be attacked, regardless of how hard Jeff works to try to see it coming.
It just sucks to have it dug up when he's been having such a good time.
"Sorry to bring you down. I'm glad you're having fun, Jensen. Just don't be too late, all right?"
"Define 'late'," Jensen hedges, and Jeff laughs, cracked and digitized through the cell connection.
"I'm going to go ahead and let you use your judgement on that one. I'll see you when I see you."
"Thanks. See you."
By the time he ends the call, Jared's ordered for both of them, and Jensen is powerless to change the fact that he is abruptly possessed of a large ball of sugar fluff bundled around a paper cone, rather than the bagged deliciousness he had intended to purchase.
"Must everything be on a stick?" he demands as they move away from the cart. "This is incredibly awkward."
"Bagged cotton candy is for losers," Jared proclaims.
It warms something in Jensen that Jared implicitly excludes himself from that category. It's not a major shift in attitude, or anything, but it's noticeable to anyone watching for it, like Jensen is. Jared's changed.
They both get cotton candy all over their faces. It's not the end of the world.
It's getting dark.
The lights of the fairground are screamingly bright against the sky, obliterating the first shy stars. There's noise and music all around, a crowd of strangers in a strange land, fewer children and more adults as day shifts into night.
Jared and Jensen are sitting on a bench eating ice cream. Jared can't remember the last time he was this happy.
"I'm going to be totally honest with you," Jensen is saying, "I just don't think I'm really a roller coaster person. It is just not my thing."
Jared feels warm and fond. "Don't hold back," he says. "Tell me how you really feel."
"Shut up." Jensen shoves against him with his shoulder and just kind of stays there. His hoodie sleeve is soft against Jared's bare arm.
"So the big question," says Jared, "is this: what are your thoughts on corn mazes?"
Jensen opens his mouth, then pauses. "I actually don't have any. I've never thought about corn mazes one way or another."
"I want to pretend like I'm giving you a choice here," Jared says, "but, I'm sorry, I cannot let you go through life never having done a corn maze."
Jensen looks up at him with that sidelong glance of his that makes Jared's stomach flip. "Got no choice, huh?"
"Nope," Jared gets out. "None. I'm taking you through the corn maze whether you like it or not."
"I suppose I can live with that." Jensen finishes the point of his cone and wipes his mouth on the napkin. "Hey," he says, looking at Jared's arm, "are you cold? That looks like goosebumps." He tucks his hand into his sleeve and rubs at Jared's forearm with the fabric.
"I guess I am." He hadn't really noticed, but the warm tingles in the wake of Jensen's touch are making it more apparent. "I've got a jacket back in the Jeep."
Jensen sighs loudly, all put-upon, and stands up. "Would it kill you to plan ahead?"
"This is me planning ahead, jerk."
"Obviously you should have worn the jacket in the heat of the afternoon to spare me ten minutes' walk."
"Obviously."
They're almost to the gates of the grounds already. It's not even five minutes to the Jeep, and Jared quickly retrieves his jacket and the emergency flashlight his mother keeps in the glove compartment.
"What's that for?" Jensen demands.
Jared flicks the flashlight on and holds it under his chin. "They don't light the maze, rookie. This is all that stands between us and getting completely, irrevocably lost." Jared resolutely ignores the part of him that would actually really love to get completely and irrevocably lost with Jensen. "Lucky for you," he says, "I plan ahead."
Jensen shakes his head, grinning. "You know the moon's coming up soon, right?" he says.
Jared shoves him. "Let me have my moment of drama."
"Whatever you say, princess."
"Weak," Jared declares. "Try again."
"Nah, I'll pass. I'm not that invested in insulting you."
They make their way back through the fairgrounds and out the other side, where the corn maze is set just far enough away from the bright lights that it seems especially dark by contrast. They step up to pay, and Jensen, looking over at the maze entrance, says,
"Hey, isn't that Katie?"
Jared looks over and sees curly blonde hair disappearing into the maze. "Probably," he says with a shrug. It's not that he doesn't like Katie. He just doesn't like how Jensen always notices when she's around.
It's not like he doesn't know he's unreasonable about Jensen.
"If you walk it perfect it takes an hour," says the girl taking their money.
"Perfectly," Jared mutters under his breath, and Jensen elbows him lightly.
"But most people take about an hour and a half to two," she goes on, "and sometimes even three if you're really bad at it."
"Thanks," Jared says, and walks into the maze with Jensen beside him.
The corn is a good eight feet high this year. Jared remembers feeling tiny when he came in here as a kid, completely dwarfed by the towering stalks all around him. He still feels pretty small. There's a breeze rustling the dry leaves and husks, papery sharp, and from the rest of the maze come the muffled sounds of talking, laughing, the occasional scream as someone gets a scare from a friend. It still feels private, somehow, him and Jensen surrounded and isolated by the tall corn.
"Dude," says Jensen. "Flashlight?"
Jared flicks it on, and they venture forward.
Jared normally has a decent sense of direction, but something about the corn maze just screws with him, every time. He usually counts on taking at least twice as long as the perfect run.
After the sixth turn he has no idea which way is out anymore, and he figures he should come clean.
"You might have already guessed," he says to Jensen, "but I'm really bad at this."
"I was beginning to suspect."
"So unless your sense of direction is even worse than mine, I suggest following your lead if we want to get out in decent time."
Jensen stops walking. Jared freezes, looking back at him with trepidation. Surely Jensen won't suggest just going back. That would really suck, and also be utterly humiliating, and it's not like they'll never get out, Jared just doesn't navigate well in the dark surrounded by corn. It's a thing.
"Actually," Jensen says, and Jared braces himself, "I think you should lead. I'm sort of fascinated by your decision-making process."
"I don't really have one," Jared admits.
"Exactly. It's hilarious."
Jared huffs a little, masking a laugh. "Maybe I should just let you find your own way out." He turns and walks quickly around the next corner, leaving Jensen behind.
"Jared, wait!" He sounds panicked, and Jared is sure Jensen's screwing with him until a hand latches onto his sleeve.
"What-" he begins, turning to look at Jensen.
"Don't do that," says Jensen. His eyes look huge, reflecting the diffuse edge of the flashlight beam. "Just. Don't, okay?"
Jared didn't figure Jensen for the type of person to get scared of being left alone in a maze. He reminds himself that, in fact, he hasn't known Jensen all that long. There are probably lots of things he doesn't know about him.
There's certainly a thing or two that Jensen doesn't know about Jared.
"Fine," says Jared, "okay. Sorry."
"Don't apologise," Jensen mumbles. "Just don't do it again. No running off on your own. I mean it."
"Might do it by accident," Jared can't help pointing out. "Get ahead of you at a corner or something. It's not like I'm glued to you."
Jensen sighs shortly, an annoyed little huff. "Fine." He lets go of Jared's sleeve and takes Jared's hand in a solid grip. "There. Fixed."
Jensen is holding Jared's hand.
Jensen's hand is a little smaller than Jared's, a little callused, and incredibly warm. The sensation of the contact spreads through Jared like electricity, static shock of pleasant tension, and he can't even think for a second.
Finally he says, "I guess that works," and it comes out only a little strangled-sounding. He's grateful that no one, especially Jake, can see them right now. Jensen clearly doesn't mean anything by it, and Jared would hate to see him harassed over a misinterpretation.
"Damn straight it works," says Jensen. "Hell with following your lead, I'm navigating. Let's go."
An hour and a half later, the maze is starting to seem endless.
Jensen is at least relatively certain that he's retained his sense of direction. Other than that, it's anyone's guess. He's never liked being closed in, and the longer they're in here the less likely it seems that they'll ever get out. At this point it seems almost plausible that someone is creating new maze as he and Jared progress, so that they will never find an exit, but remain trapped in an endless corn field until they die.
Realistically, they're probably almost through.
Jensen is still hanging onto Jared. A couple of times he's thought about letting go, but then he remembers the way his throat closed up when Jared disappeared around the corner.
It's not so much that he's afraid to be alone in the maze. He's afraid for Jared to be alone in the maze.
He's pretty sure it's not a reasonable fear. It's not like Jared will get lost forever or be in any real danger. It's not like Jared's people are targeted for extinction. Well, not yet, anyway. But the cold twist in the pit of his stomach and the sudden constriction of breath overrode reason and drove him to make certain Jared didn't stray into danger, away from Jensen.
It's probably the reverse of cool, holding hands in a corn maze like scared children, but cool has been the least of Jensen's worries for a while now.
"When I was thirteen they did a haunted maze," Jared is saying. "Never again, man. You like to think you're not afraid of the dark, and then bam."
"Any thirteen-year-old thinks he's not afraid of the dark," Jensen observes, "he's kidding himself."
"I feel like everyone is afraid of the dark," Jared says. "Like this primal thing, you know? Dark is when the predators happen."
A chill breeze sweeps along the path, and Jensen shivers in his thin hoodie. "Yeah," he says, moving a little closer to Jared's warmth. "I think you're probably right."
Up ahead, there's a T-intersection: they can't go straight. Jensen stops in the intersection, looking both ways. Right is most likely to be the direction of the exit, but it's possible this is another misdirect. On the other hand, by Jensen's reckoning, they're too close to the end for something like that to be effective. He hopes.
Jensen goes right.
Three turns and a snake bend later, the light starts to change.
"Jensen, look," says Jared excitedly, squeezing his hand. "I think we're almost out."
"I think you might be right." Hope rises in Jensen like something alive, and he suddenly realizes just how much he dislikes this maze. It's been time-consuming and frustrating and basically the only good thing about it is that he's with Jared. "Come on," he says, and breaks into a run, dragging Jared with him.
And they're out.
"Yes!" Jared crows, throwing victory arms in the air, Jensen's hand lifted up in Jared's grasp like a prizefighter's fist. "We did it!"
"You held the flashlight," Jensen concedes graciously.
"Hell yes I did. I hold a flashlight like a boss." Jared lets go of Jensen's hand to offer a high five. Jensen takes it. "Shit, what time is it? I'm starving."
Jensen has to laugh. The corn is cut back all around them, but it resumes a few yards beyond the perimeter of the maze, standing tall and moon-silvered between the cleared area and the windbreak. An arrow-shaped sign reading "CIVILIZATION" points to the right, so they head that way, making their way back around the maze's perimeter to get back to the main fairground. Jensen can see the Ferris wheel rising up beyond the maze.
There's a rustling in the corn on his left, and before Jensen can put a cause to the noise he's being tackled to the ground, wind pounded out of him. He hears Jared, shocked, angry, and someone is taking Jared away.
A heavy body is on top of Jensen, holding him down, and Jensen gets his leg around and flips them, slamming his assailant into the ground and using the momentum to push himself to his feet.
"Jensen!" Jared's voice sounds close, but Jensen can't see him anywhere. Panic flares up, worse than in the maze: Jared is out of his sight, Jared is in danger. Two more dark shapes materialise out of the corn and grab Jensen by the arms, trying to immobilise him, and that's it, no more holding back. Jared needs him. These idiots don't matter. They're keeping him away from Jared. They don't deserve consideration.
Calling on his Legacy, he slams outward with the force of his anger, on the edge of his control; his hands are glowing from the intensity of the burst that propels his attackers away from him. He hasn't been this angry since he started training, and a sick delight cracks open inside him when his power responds so easily, an extension of his will. The two boys he's flung away land hard.
"Jensen!" he hears again, faint now and bitten off, like someone's trying to silence Jared. They must be taking him away through the cornfield. The boy who tackled him is struggling up, looking murderous, blocking the way to Jared, and Jensen says, "Come on," in a voice he doesn't recognise.
A brief scuffle later, the boy is on the ground and Jensen is off through the corn. Part of his mind registers that someone's following him, clumsy and a little slow - one of his attackers must still be conscious. He'll take care of him if and when it becomes necessary. Right now, what is necessary is getting to Jared.
"Jared?" he bellows, slowing a little to listen. "Jared!" He hears nothing. Nearing the windbreak, he sees a shadow move, and veers toward it.
Before he catches up with the shadow, he can tell it's not Jared, and he grabs the shadow with his will and throws it into a tree. A winded, cracked-sounding curse escapes the shadow. When Jensen gets close enough to see his pinned prey, he sees it's Jake's friend from the eating contest, Mitch Something.
"What the hell are you," says Mitch, staring like a caught rabbit. "What the fuck."
"Where's Jared?" Jensen demands. Mitch wheezes at the extra force attached to the question.
"Shit, man," he gasps. "You're insane."
"Where is he?"
"Abel has him. That way." Mitch points jerkily. Jensen lets him drop, takes off running.
He doesn't call out anymore. His footfalls are far from silent, but neither are they loud. He hears noise ahead of him, snapping of small branches, thuds, grunts; sounds of a struggle. Jensen bursts out of the trees.
The far side of the windbreak is fallow. By the light of the half-moon, Jensen can see everything: Jared, bent double over Jake's fist, another football player holding Jared's arms behind his back.
Jensen lets his rage out and the scene is flooded with blue light.
"Let him go."
Startled, Jake's lackey loosens his grip on Jared, and Jensen forcibly loosens it the rest of the way so he can get him off without hurting Jared. The guy disappears past the tree line, pushed away with a thought, and Jensen turns his focus to Jake, who still has Jared by the collar and is staring at Jensen with something between horror and disgust.
"Shoulda known you'd come to"
"Shut up." He closes Jake's mouth for him. "Let go of Jared." Jake pulls his hand back instantly, eyes wide. "Good choice."
Jared crumples to his knees, and something in Jensen knocks back into focus.
"Get out of here," he tells Jake, "before I change my mind.
Jake bolts.
"Jared. Jared, are you okay, fuck," Jensen is saying, "look at me, is anything broken?" Jared feels hands on his shoulders, then patting him down, checking him over, Jensen's hands all over him, frantically gentle.
Breathing is still a production. It's probably not smart to try to talk yet, given how his solar plexus and his lungs are fighting over whether or not his diaphragm should move, but Jensen sounds like he's going out of his mind, and Jared wants to reassure him.
"Not," he gets out, "broken."
Jensen doesn't stop his check, but once he's satisfied himself of the truth of that, he loses a fraction of his agitation. He takes Jared's face in his hands, tilts it up to the moonlight and examines it. Jake got in a decent hit or two there; Jared might end up with a black eye, he's not sure. He can feel blood trickling sluggishly down from the split over his cheekbone and his mouth tastes like iron and salt.
"I'm gonna kill him," Jensen mutters, eyes darting over Jared's face, taking in the damage. "God, Jared, I can't believe he" he cuts himself off, swallows. His face looks broken open, everything he's feeling spilling all over the place. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Jared's almost breathing normally now, down to a slight wheeze. He turns his head to one side and spits blood. "Jake's the bastard who keeps taking out his self-loathing on me."
Jensen's hands settle, one grasping Jared's collar lightly, the other supporting his head, like Jared can't keep it up himself. Maybe he can't. It's hard to say. "For not getting here in time. For not protecting you."
"That's not your job," Jared starts to say, but Jensen hauls him in close, hand still cradling his head, other arm coming around his shoulder, holding Jared.
Jared melts into it. He can't not. He turns his head so his face is blood-upward on Jensen's shoulder and slides his arms around Jensen's waist, clinging to the back of the soft green hoodie. Their moon shadow stretches out across the ground, the two of them making one shape, crouched together in the fallow earth.
The reality of the last ten minutes rolls over him. Two of Jake's friends, shorter but bigger, grabbing him, propelling him through the corn against his will, picking him up and carrying him when he fought them; dumped in front of Jake, allowed to get to his feet only to be railed at, viciously cursed, then struck at, held in place when he tried to dodge, to defend himself, to leave.
Then Jensen came. Jensen, who demanded Jared's release. Jensen, who somehow made Jake and his buddy leave Jared alone without touching them. Jensen, who were his hands actually glowing? His hands were actually glowing.
What.
"I saw," he says, before his better judgement kicks in. Jensen stiffens, but doesn't pull back. "I saw your hands." Jared finds himself curious more than anything else. This is Jensen, after all. He trusts Jensen. If Jensen's hands were glowing, Jared is sure there must be a good reason.
"I," Jensen begins, and Jared can feel it, can tell that Jensen wants to lie.
"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't tell me unless it's the truth. I might be a little concussed here but I can still tell what's real. I saw the light. What was it?" He tightens his arms a little around Jensen, trying for reassurance, maybe. Now is not the time for them to start being strangers. "Please."
He reads Jensen's tension for another moment or two, fractional shifts of indecision, and then Jensen makes up his mind, shifting his grip on Jared, combing his fingers through Jared's hair, just once, before his hand settles onto the nape of Jared's neck, warm and secure, his thumb just under Jared's ear.
"I'd say you should be sitting for this," Jensen begins, "but, well."
Jared waits.
"I Jared. Your dad was right about everything. I'm not" Jensen swallows hard. "Not human. I, my planet is called Lorien. No one lives there now. Everyone was killed. Except nine of us, well, plus our guardians, we were sent here, we're supposed to be some kind of elite force but we grew up on Earth and I've never even met them and three of us are dead and I might be next."
"What killed the three?" Jared is sure he has more pertinent questions, but that's the one that comes out.
"We call them Mogadorians. They hunt other races for sport."
"Are they coming to Earth?"
"They're here."
Jared goes cold. "What?"
Jensen pulls back, just far enough to look Jared in the eye. "They're not after humans. They're after us."
Jared takes it in. Jensen waits, watching him, and their arms are still around each other and this is still the same Jensen that has been the best friend Jared's ever had. And Jensen's life is in danger.
There are too many questions. Some will have to keep.
"Besides the light," Jared says finally, "what else can you do?"
Jensen doesn't move. Jensen doesn't move, and his hood rises up to settle over his head, obscuring his face in its shadow.
"And I'm working on becoming completely impervious," he says.
Telekinesis.
Jensen is telekinetic. And a light source. And apparently damage-resistant.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jared is certain that those things are not things that normal people would be turned on by.
Jared gave up on normal years ago.
"Holy shit," is all he can say. Jensen is just sitting there with one arm still looped around Jared's neck, face a breath away but unreadable, waiting for Jared to react to this life-altering information. All Jared can think is that he wants to kiss Jensen more than he has ever wanted anything in his entire life. "Holy shit, Jensen." He can't, can't stop himself from moving forward, but he makes himself go for a slim pretense of platonic contact instead, skims his face along the side of Jensen's, his cheek to Jensen's temple, all but igniting on contact. Jensen's hood gets pushed back down and Jared leans into him, into the fever heat of his face and the truth of his confession.
Dad was right.
Jensen makes this scraped-dry husk of a sound, like he expected something completely different from what Jared's given him, and turns his face into Jared's, butterfly kiss of eyelashes along Jared's last unbruised span of jaw, warm breath on Jared's throat.
It's too much, it's too intense, the intimate press of Jensen's face against his, the infinite stretch of this moment. He can't handle it. He wants it never to end.
Finally, Jensen takes a huge, shaky breath. "I was so sure you'd be pissed," he says, sounding a bit lost.
"You're an idiot," Jared says. He squeezes Jensen extra hard before starting to extricate himself, unable to keep from pressing a kiss to Jensen's temple as he goes. Jensen lets go reluctantly. It's like they've both forgotten how to exist in their own space, hands repositioning but not quite leaving one another.
Jensen catches sight of Jared's bloody face again and shakes his head. "We've gotta get you home, man." He stands and holds out a hand, grabbing Jared's wrist when he reaches up, hauling him to his feet. Nobody overbalances this time. They're standing close because there is no other way to be right now.
Jared's stomach is still sore. He tries to straighten up completely and fails, grimacing and returning to a partial hunch. Jensen, right there already, slides in under Jared's arm without a word. Gratefully, Jared drapes an arm across Jensen's shoulders and takes the support, and they head into the trees.
It's a long way back to the parking lot.
Jared tries to go for the driver's side of the Jeep.
"Nuh-uh," Jensen says. "Give me the keys, Concussion Boy."
"We don't know that I have a concussion. I can totally drive," Jared says stubbornly.
"Show me you can stand first." Jensen lets go. Jared wobbles and catches himself on the hood. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Screw you. How are you going to get home, then?"
Jensen shrugs. "I can walk. Not a big deal. Keys?" He holds out his hand.
Jared tries to stare him down. Jensen is not about to be stared down. Finally Jared sighs and digs into his pocket. "Here." He holds them out, not looking at Jensen.
Jensen reaches out to take them and closes his fingers around Jared's hand as well. "Hey." Jared looks up, meeting his eye. "You took multiple blows to the head, man. You just got beat on."
"Beaten on," Jared corrects automatically.
Jensen smiles a little. Jared's still with it. "Exactly. So please," he says, squeezing Jared's hand, "will you let me drive you home so I don't have to worry?"
Jared's shoulders drop. "All right," he says. "Yeah."
"Thank you."
Jared makes it into the Jeep under his own steam, Jensen watching anxiously. Only when the door shuts on him and he's fighting with his seat belt does Jensen get into the driver's seat.
"You're going to have to direct me," he says.
"Head for Seventh and Church," Jared says, "and I'll tell you from there."
Aside from directions, the drive is quiet. Jensen glances over once in a while to make sure Jared hasn't passed out, but Jared just watches the road, a little glassy-eyed. Jensen hopes he won't catch shit from his stepdad for getting in a fight. That would just be perfect.
Jared's house is dark when they pull up. It's only ten, but Jared says, "They were going to go out tonight. They're probably not back yet," and Jensen thanks whatever luck is with them and pulls into the covered side driveway at Jared's direction.
He jumps out immediately and goes around to help Jared out. It's harder getting him to his feet than either of them anticipated, and once the door is closed again it's almost too dark to see.
"Can you get inside okay?" Jensen asks. "Should I come in? You need to get cleaned up, maybe I should have taken you to the hospital"
"Jensen." Jared takes him by the shoulders. "You are freaking out. I am" he cuts himself off with a weak laugh. "Okay, I am so not fine, but I will live through the night. I am capable of sitting on the edge of a bathtub and using a washcloth. Mostly I need to drink some water and go to sleep. And maybe eat something."
"If you throw up, call me," Jensen says instantly. He knows about concussions. He had one once.
"I will." Jared's voice is soft. He needs to sleep. Jensen's keeping him in the driveway when he should be inside taking care of himself.
Jensen can't make himself pull away from Jared's grip.
"Just," he says, taking hold of Jared's wrists, and then finds he has no more words to string behind the first.
"I know," says Jared. "Me, too." He leans down until their foreheads are touching, and they stand there for a moment, just sharing space. Jensen closes his eyes.
But Jared needs to get inside. Jensen takes a breath to fortify himself and pulls back a fraction of an inch.
"Call me in the morning," he says. "Or before."
"I will," Jared promises.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Jensen's hands are still around Jared's wrists. Jared's hands are still on Jensen's shoulders. Jensen moves his hands up to cover Jared's, pull them off, and then he ends up with Jared's hands in his, and if he lets go then Jared will be out of his care, out of his protection.
Logically, this has to happen.
He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can leave Jared alone. "Okay," he says again. "I need to go." Some odd instinct overtakes him, and he leans up to brush his lips over Jared's split cheek, a healing benediction of a kiss. "Call me," he repeats, and lets go before he can't anymore.
"I will," Jared says, once again, and Jensen retreats.
Part 4