Fic: Lovely Way to Burn (1/2)
Title: Lovely Way to Burn
Author Name: Dhvana
Genre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Word Count: approx 11,530
Summary: In Key West for a conference, workaholic Jared Padalecki becomes captivated by a street performer, but the mystery that is Jensen cannot be solved in one week. Unfortunately, a week is all Jared has.
A/N: Written for the J2AU Summer Love Songs Challenge and inspired by the song “Fever” by Peggy Lee.
Lovely Way to Burn
There was a feeling about this city that had Jared on edge. Ever since he’d landed, he’d known there was something off about this place. It began with the sweltering July heat that clung to him like a second skin and infiltrated his lungs so that he felt like he was trying to breathe water. It continued during the nerve-wracking ride through the crowded streets, the taxi narrowly avoiding the scooters and bicyclists who seemed to think greater numbers meant invincibility when it came to nearly getting hit by more massive vehicles. He felt it in the centuries-old houses which seemed to be waiting with baited breath for that one hurricane which would finally wipe them out of existence forever, but somehow holding faith that such a day would never come. The feeling continued to exist as he sighed into the hotel room of modern fixtures overlooking the water, its structure built with nothing more in mind than fleeting pleasure, defying and yet accommodating the history around it.
The city’s other inhabitants seemed oblivious to the feeling--the cruise ship tourists who ebbed and flowed like the tides, the Miami weekenders who’d made the grueling five hour drive on the single lane of road and spent their time dreading the drive back, the loose-limbed college students walking down Duval like they had something to prove, and the natives, who’d seen it all and took the world in stride. If there was something wrong with Key West, they didn’t notice, but Jared did, and if he didn’t find a way to exorcise the unease growing in the pit of his stomach, he was afraid it would keep growing until he burst.
Work certainly wasn’t an escape. So far, the conference had been a tedious disappointment. He kept up-to-date on the latest security systems and surveillance equipment for his own professional reasons, and while the freebies were a definite perk and having the opportunity for a little hands-on testing was nice, he’d yet to get anything substantial out of the experience. The chance to network with others in the business and share stories of their experiences had helped to keep him somewhat entertained, but it was the free time between seminars and at the end of the day that was driving him insane. He needed to be doing something, needed to keep his hands and mind occupied, and there were only so many times he could check in back home before Chad put out a hit on him.
“Dude, you’re in Key West. Isn’t that like some sort of holy ground for your people? Go get laid!”
“And catch a disease while I’m at it?” Jared snorted as he paced across his hotel room. “No, thank you.”
“You’ve got to do something. You can’t keep bothering your employees. Susannah’s threatening to quit. Mike’s threatening to fly out there and blow you himself if it’ll shut you up. Tom’s threatening to kill Mike if he tries. Seriously, Jared, you’ve got to leave them alone. You picked them, trained them, molded them into anal little freaks just like you. They know their jobs, and you’re on vacation. Enjoy it!”
He knew Chad was right, and the sad thing was, this conference was the closest thing he’d had to a vacation since college. He couldn’t help it if his job ate up the majority of his time. Running his own security firm dominated a good chunk of his hours, and he liked to think he was more of an interactive boss than just the guy who sat back and let others do all the work for him. It had been years since he’d had anything even resembling a private life. He no longer knew what to do with himself when he had more than ten minutes to spare, but he was positive Key West wasn’t the place to find out.
“I can’t. I can’t get comfortable here. This place is weird. The people are weird, and it’s too fucking hot. I mean, seriously, who the fuck holds a conference in the middle of summer in Florida? I think they’re hoping we’ll be so dazed with the heat we’ll buy whatever they tell us to.”
“All right, so you’re miserable. I get it. I’m sorry. Do what a normal person would do and go get drunk.”
Now that was something to consider. Normally, he hated the lack of control that came with being intoxicated, but he didn’t exactly have to worry here. There was nothing to be in control of.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Get a tattoo.”
Jared laughed into the phone. “Funny.”
“Look, you’re in the Keys. You’re surrounded by water. Swim. Snorkel. Dive. Hell, go try and break your neck on a jet ski, for all I care.”
“They do have some good kite-surfing down here.”
“Perfect! Go do that! Just leave us the hell alone!”
The phone went dead and for a second, Jared thought he’d lost the signal, but then he realized Chad had hung up on him. “Asshole,” he muttered and shoved the phone into his pocket.
He looked around the room, then out his window. It was getting close to sunset, too late for any water activities that night, but plenty of time to run down to the CVS on the corner. He could grab a case of beer, hang out on his balcony, and watch the Sunset Celebration from the unhindered view of his room. Probably wouldn’t get the Murray seal of approval-Chad would insist he actually join in the Celebration, not just observe it-but it fit his comfort level. He was better at a distance.
Jared gently pushed his way through the crowds of tourists who were starting to wander towards Mallory Square and almost reconsidered joining them. The cheerful sound of their voices tempted him with human interaction, but he was there alone and he couldn’t just barge in on a conversation. It was safer to stick with his plan, he thought, and walked on by to the store, obtaining his beer with plenty of time to spare. He settled out on the balcony, stretching his long legs out in front of him, twisted off the bottle’s cap, and forced himself to try and relax.
Unless there was some greater purpose involved-i.e., unless it was for the job-sitting still just wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t even manage half the bottle before his foot started an impatient tap-tap-tap-tap against his other foot. It was like there was this energy inside of him, this live wire strung alongside his veins that needed some sort of release. He began to feel jittery, like his skin was stretched too tight over his bones. He kept swallowing beer to keep from screaming.
It almost amused him to think he was driving himself insane just trying to watch the fucking sun set.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he mentally catalogued every muscle in his body and eased the tension away. Grabbing another beer to help ensure this relaxation, he let his eyes roam over the scene below him. Street performers, who had been set up and waiting for the people to arrive, were now vying for the crowd’s attention. The Cat Man was calling the masses over to watch his cats perform stupid pet tricks that occasionally involved flaming hoops. He quickly looked away-it was a little too sadistic for Jared’s taste, though the cats seemed fairly indifferent. Further down, one man was juggling while balancing on a tightrope while another swung like a pendulum as he was strung upside-down from a tripod. Strains of various instruments could be heard over the crowd-drums, guitar, bagpipes, conch shell-all of them unique, none of them really standing out.
At least half the tourists had a drink in their hands as they wandered from show to show and Jared lifted his own beer in a silent toast. If they had it in them to relax and enjoy a single moment in life, more power to them. If they could shut off their brains and shut out the rest of the world long enough to pretend nothing existed beyond their next cheap thrill, their next drink...well, he could only envy them. Chad said his inability to stop and smell the roses was because he was such an anal-retentive control freak. He claimed it was his over-developed sense of responsibility. It was possible they were both right.
“Fuck it,” he said and dug for his phone. He was going to catch the first flight out of this fucking state and go back to where he could be useful, where he could do something-anything-other than grow mold in this atmosphere of sluggish nothing.
While waiting to hear from the airline when he could get the hell out of the Keys, a musician down below propped himself up on the concrete border protecting the landscaping from the tourists. He removed the guitar from its case, which he left open to allow for any tips he might be granted, and began strumming softly on the strings. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple tune that wove its way through the evening air and into Jared’s blood, soothing the itch that was prickling through his veins. It reminded him of home, somehow, of drinking cold Dos Equis on warm Texas nights, of sitting out on the back porch watching the stars come out, of hours spent in laughter and story-telling with family and friends. The music from the other end of the phone playing while he was on hold began to irritate him, interrupting the purity of the guitar below, and he hung up the phone, took another drink, and listened.
The sweet slow song was just a warm up. The next tune had the musician’s fingers flying across the strings in complicated riffs that caused Jared’s eyebrows to rise towards his forehead. The guy was good, and the crowd agreed, its attention wandering away from the garish attractions towards the sound of something real. A few of the more inebriated tourists sat down on a circle around him, which the musician acknowledged by raising his head before returning to his guitar. They were entranced, forgetting about the drinks in their hands and the sun sinking into the horizon behind them. Despite the show nature was putting on over the water, they couldn’t tear their eyes off the itinerant musician and his guitar. More than anything in the world, Jared wanted to see what they were seeing, to know what was so captivating, but he couldn’t bring himself to break contact with the music long enough to leave the room.
The man played a full set there on the sidewalk, guitar and then voice weaving a spell over the tourists, filling the emptiness in their souls-filling the emptiness in his-with the music. And then, as the sky began to turn dark, it was over. Jared couldn’t move, still tied to his chair by the notes that held him down and the beer that controlled his limbs. He numbly watched as the man spoke with his audience, accepting money and adulation in equal parts, and then he packed up his guitar. The man set the case down on the border and lifted his arms into the air, stretching the kinks out of his limbs, bending one from side to the other. Turning to pick the case back up, he raised his head and their eyes met. Jared’s breath caught in his throat, his heart sticking in his chest as time came to a sudden halt.
It wasn’t just the music or the voice, it was the face-beautiful and warm, mischievous and sad and welcoming all at once. The face was an alluring puzzle, a mystery, one put on this earth just for him to solve, or so Jared had convinced himself by the time the green eyes refocused. Down below, the man winked up at him, then turned and disappeared into the dispersing crowd. Up on the balcony, Jared completely forgot about his plans to leave Key West. All he wanted to do was find the musician and learn the language of the man hiding behind those eyes.
The next day, Jared skipped out on the afternoon seminars, choosing instead to wander the streets of Old Town, easing through the tourists while keeping one ear tuned for the musician. Flashes of green and melodies of home had haunted his dreams during the night and continued to filter through his veins during the day, spreading outward until the fever covered him like a second skin. He felt overheated and clammy, wanting nothing more than to lie down with a cold beer in his hand and a cool washcloth over his forehead, but his body ached with the need to move and so he walked.
If there was one thing he’d discovered about Key West, it was that daylight Duval Street was as blatant about its sleaze as its nighttime self. Sex toys, ‘tobacco’ products, easy-to-carry alcohol, tee-shirts and thongs printed with every offensive catchphrase imaginable-all were available at eye-level no matter what height you were. His mouth twitched to picture wide-eyed children pointing to the dildo in the window or the bare-breasted and rather accurately modeled mannequin, or the torso displaying a pair of boxer-briefs, and displaying them rather well, Jared thought, wishing half his dates could fit a pair of underwear that nicely.
Not that he had a lot of dates.
Chance meetings, maybe. Advantageous moments. All right, whatever he could get in the bathrooms of bars or an occasionally in the nearest available bedroom-their place or a hotel, never his own. He simply wasn’t looking for a relationship, just a little release. Still, he would have considered himself lucky if any of them were as fit as the dummies lining the storefronts of Duval.
Jared rolled his eyes. Maybe Chad was right about him being hard-up if he was envying the inanimate.
Feeling the need for caffeine, he stopped into the Café de Paris for a cup of coffee and grabbed a slice of key lime on a stick while he was there. He couldn’t help it-he’d become addicted to the stuff. Pie. On a stick. Dipped in chocolate. He loved the way the smooth crunch of the chocolate complemented the creamy tartness of the key lime, how it was so sweet it made his teeth ache. It was the perfect dessert, made portable.
Stick in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, Jared made his way back into the sunshine. If he had one complaint about Key West-which, of course, he didn’t; he had a whole fucking list. But, if he had to narrow it down to one, it would be the weather. The heat and humidity sucked the life right out of him. He couldn’t begin to comprehend how people could layer liters of alcohol on top of that, even if the scantiness of their clothing may have helped.
Though a lack of clothing certainly wasn’t that guy’s problem.
Jared’s gaze came to rest on the living statue standing on a pedestal across the street from him. He was dressed up as...John Smith, maybe? The rough and sexy Colin Farrell version, not the clean-cut Disney version. Anyway, it was some figure from history-long hair, leather breeches, poofy shirt, suede boots-and every inch of him, every piece of clothing, every strand of hair, was white. Face paint, house paint, Jared didn’t know what it had taken, but he was completely white, like a marble statue. Which, Jared supposed, was the point. One arm was raised in front of him, a single finger pointing at some object in the distance, the other hand shading his eyes from the sun. Though his arm had to be killing him after holding it still for so long, he didn’t even waver.
Gulping down his pie, Jared watched as a family-mom, dad, two young sons-paused in front of the statue. The boys looked on him with awe and a little anxiety, not quite certain what to think of him. They both jumped and squealed with surprise when the finger moved down to point at them. Jared chuckled as the boys tentatively reached out to touch the statue, who didn’t move, no matter how much they prodded at him, but the second they let their guard down, he moved again. This time, Jared laughed out loud as the boys jumped a foot in the air. The statue turned his head just enough for their eyes to meet, and then he winked. Jared flushed, embarrassed at getting caught without quite knowing why, and hurried around the corner away from Duval.
Distracted by a steady stream of thoughts about his mystery, Jared somehow managed to kill the long hours until sunset before staking out a spot in the Square that would allow him to watch for the musician without appearing obvious about it. The sun fell lower, the crowds grew deeper, he bought a mojito from the old man everyone called Mr. Mojito, and then another, because the old man certainly earned his nickname, and the musician still hadn’t made an appearance. When it became clear that the man wasn’t going to show, Jared decided he’d might as well actually catch the sunset and then head in for the night. He turned around to face the water and nearly dropped his cup.
“Son of a bitch!” he swore, stumbling backwards. The musician stood in front of him, a broad smirk on his face, and for all his surveillance skills, Jared hadn’t even realized anyone had invaded his personal space. It was definitely not his finest moment. He blamed the mojitos.
“Looking for someone?” the man asked, smirk remaining firmly in place.
Jared’s eyes narrowed as he tried to regain his composure. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he grinned, then jerked his head towards the city. “Come on.”
Without waiting for an answer, he began weaving through the tourists as he made his way out of the Square. Jared didn’t know whether to admire the musician’s confidence in his belief that Jared would follow, or to be insulted by it. He figured there was only one way to find out and hurried to catch him before he was lost in the crowd. They walked away from Duval and the major tourist areas, the man striding without hesitation through the narrow alleys that passed as streets. Lush greenery barely managed to disguise the dilapidated condition of several of the houses, while carefully trimmed yards framed the few that managed to maintain the majesty of their centuries. Jared tried to keep track of the many turns and twists the man’s long strides led them through and was surprised when they stopped in what was once somebody’s backyard, and was still a backyard, but now belonged to a rather fancy B&B. The yard had been cleared of obstacles except for a tiki bar, a couple of tables, and some chairs, which were almost entirely filled with men and women drinking and chatting, a few of them holding instruments.
“There you are, Jenny-boy! We were starting to think you bailed on us!” A sexy man with an even sexier grin clapped Jared’s mystery on the back and drew him towards the group. “What took you so long?”
“Had to stop and collect something,” ‘Jenny’ said with a wink back at Jared.
That wink-he knew that wink, and not just from the night before. His musician was also a statue? Just who the hell was this guy?
The man with the grin looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow as he took in all of Jared. “Collect, huh. Like a stamp? A baseball card?” He paused a beat. “A stray?”
“Chris, play nice,” a blond man scolded, walking towards him. “This is the first boy Jensen’s brought home to meet the family in ages, and we don’t want to scare him off.”
“Yet,” Chris muttered loud enough for the whole yard to hear.
“Ignore the man under the hat,” the blond said, referring to the cowboy hat perched on top of Chris’s head as he held out a hand to Jared. “I’m Steve, the asshole’s Chris, and of course you already know Jensen.”
Of course, Jared thought bitterly, feeling completely ambushed, but he was never one to forget his manners and gave Steve’s hand a firm shake.
“I’m Jared.”
“Glad you could join us, Jared. Have a seat,” he said, pushing him towards an empty chair next to Jensen. “Beer?”
“That’s a good place to start.”
Jensen chuckled while Steve grabbed them all a round from the tiki bar, Chris eyeing him with obvious suspicion. “You play an instrument, Jared?” Chris asked, picking up his guitar.
“No.”
“Sing?”
“Does drunken karaoke count?”
“Not yet, but it’s still early,” Steve said, handing them each a bottle. “Give us a few hours and we’ll all be doing drunken karaoke. Hey Chris, if you’ve got a minute, Julie over there was wondering if you’d be kind enough to sign her chest.”
Chris took one look at Julie and her chest, barely constrained by her tiny top, and instantly forgot about his hostility towards Jared.
“Thanks, Steve,” Jensen said as Chris hurried off to oblige.
“Any time,” Steve smiled and followed Chris. Jared hoped it was to keep him out of trouble and not just to keep him distracted.
After a few minutes silence, Jensen looked over at him. “You listen to the radio much?”
“Some,” Jared shrugged.
“You heard of Kane?”
“Yeah.” His eyes widened. “These guys are...?”
“Yep,” Jensen said with a shit-eating grin.
Well, that explained the signing of the breasts. “Are you...?”
“Just a friend.”
And that explained the career as a street performer.
“So why aren’t you...?”
Jensen shrugged. “Not my thing.”
“Not a big fan of fame, fortune, sex?”
“I don’t have anything against the last two. Never experienced the first one, so I can’t give a definite opinion on that.”
“But that’s a definite yes on money and sex.”
“Just not an exchange of one for the other.”
Jared nodded his head. “Good to know.”
“You didn’t really think-”
“No. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to clarify.”
“I see. You know, maybe we should start over.” He held out his hand. “Jensen Ackles, not a prostitute.”
He shook Jensen’s hand. “Jared Padalecki, not a john.”
Jensen laughed. “Yeah, I kind of figured that. So, what brings you to Key West?”
“Convention. I’m in security.”
“Security?”
“My firm provides protection for people-we offer event security, personal body guards, set up security systems, whatever the situation requires.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Jared waited, but when no further information was forthcoming, he decided to prod. “And what do you do?”
Jensen looked at him with obvious disbelief and Jared shrugged.
“Hey, so far the only thing I know for certain is you’re not a prostitute.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, you were saying...?”
Jensen glared at him, then sighed. “I’m whatever I need to be that day. I’m a musician, street performer, tour guide, server, trash collector, bellman, bouncer, super. It just depends. If I’m needed, I’m called. If not, the street’s always open.”
“But why?”
“I’m sorry?”
Jared flushed picked at the label of his bottle in order to avoid Jensen’s eyes. “Well, it seems to me like you’ve got a lot of options, and I know you’ve got talent, and connections, and you don’t appear to be an idiot. Why not take advantage of that, do something...more?”
Jensen’s face hardened, his posture growing stiff. “You’ve known me all of, what, five minutes? I’ll take that shit from my parents. I’ll sometimes even take it from my friends, but there’s only one thing I want to take from you, only one thing I want you to give me, and a lecture is not it.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” Jared asked, surprised at the disappointment he was feeling when he’d known all along why he’d followed Jensen through the back alleys of Key West.
“Isn’t that why you came?” Jensen said with a cruel smile, the expression dimming his beauty, but Jared doubted anything would make him truly ugly. “Unless you really thought we were just going to sit around drinking beer and shooting the shit.”
And for a brief moment, Jared pitied him and whatever had given him that edge of brutality, but what he really wanted was to no longer have it pointed in his direction. “We couldn’t do all of the above?”
Jensen stared at him, blinked once, twice, and then his edge softened. “Yeah, we could do that,” he smiled and both of them relaxed.
They sat there until the beer ran out, drinking and talking, sharing the shallow facts of their histories, the same thing they’d have done in a bar surrounded by strangers instead of a luxurious backyard surrounded by...well, they weren’t Jared’s friends, but at least they were friendly. It was only when his head started to nod and his limbs felt warm and loose that he realized how late it was, and just how much he’d had to drink.
He looked up at Jensen and gave him a goofy smile. “I think I’m drunk.”
Jensen grinned at the way Jared was sprawled across his lap, head lolling against his stomach. “I think you are, too.”
They’d migrated from chairs to a tree trunk when both of them realized they had difficulty sitting upright without sliding down into the grass and decided to let gravity have its way.
“I can’t remember the last time I was drunk.”
“I’d be surprised if you could remember your name right now.”
“It’s Jared Tristan Pada-ada-dada-dadadada--”
“Jared,” Jensen interrupted, trying not to laugh and bringing Jared out of his trance.
“Dalecki,” he finished, triumphant.
“Well, you got it. Eventually.”
Jared grinned. “Told you.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jensen smiled, brushing the hair back from his face. It was all Jared could do not to arch into his touch, wanting to feel the heat of Jensen’s fingertips all over his skin. “Man, you are gonna feel like warmed-over ass in the morning.”
“I know.” He laughed. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Totally,” he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
Jared’s stellar mood went into a rapid decline. “Ooohhh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, looking mournfully down at his crotch as he sadly shook his head. “I don’t think it’s working right now.”
“We’ve both had too much to drink for it to be working right now. Roll over,” Jensen said, easing Jared off of him and rising to his feet with only a minimum of stumbling involved. Bracing his back against the tree, he held out his hands and pulled Jared to his feet.
“Oof.” Jared fell bodily into Jensen and stood there, pressing him into the bark. “Sorry.”
“Me, too,” Jensen murmured, taking what Jared felt to be shameless advantage of his inebriated state to touch him in all the right places. “You sure you’re too drunk?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sorrowful sigh. “Sucks.”
“It really does,” Jensen agreed. “Let’s see if we can get you up the stairs.”
“You stayin’ here?”
“Chris always makes sure I’ve got a room, just for nights like these.”
“He’s a good friend,” Jared said, his head resting on Jensen’s shoulder.
“The best.”
“My best friend’s a douche. But he’s the best.”
“Douche?” Jensen teased, and Jared punched his arm.
“Friend. He’d be very happy for me right now.”
“Because you’re too drunk to walk on your own?”
“Yeah,” he said with a silly smile. “And because I’m getting laid.” He frowned. “Or, I was.”
“Play your cards right, stud, and you still might. Just not right now.”
“Really?” If he were sober, he’d be embarrassed by how pathetic he sounded, but looking into Jensen’s green eyes, mesmerized at the way the irises sparkled at him, Jared could only think how lucky he was to have even caught Jensen’s attention.
Jensen seemed to feel the same as he leaned over to brush their lips together. “Really.”
The kiss was the last thing Jared remembered.
Lovely Way to Burn, Part 2
Author Name: Dhvana
Genre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Word Count: approx 11,530
Summary: In Key West for a conference, workaholic Jared Padalecki becomes captivated by a street performer, but the mystery that is Jensen cannot be solved in one week. Unfortunately, a week is all Jared has.
A/N: Written for the J2AU Summer Love Songs Challenge and inspired by the song “Fever” by Peggy Lee.
Lovely Way to Burn
There was a feeling about this city that had Jared on edge. Ever since he’d landed, he’d known there was something off about this place. It began with the sweltering July heat that clung to him like a second skin and infiltrated his lungs so that he felt like he was trying to breathe water. It continued during the nerve-wracking ride through the crowded streets, the taxi narrowly avoiding the scooters and bicyclists who seemed to think greater numbers meant invincibility when it came to nearly getting hit by more massive vehicles. He felt it in the centuries-old houses which seemed to be waiting with baited breath for that one hurricane which would finally wipe them out of existence forever, but somehow holding faith that such a day would never come. The feeling continued to exist as he sighed into the hotel room of modern fixtures overlooking the water, its structure built with nothing more in mind than fleeting pleasure, defying and yet accommodating the history around it.
The city’s other inhabitants seemed oblivious to the feeling--the cruise ship tourists who ebbed and flowed like the tides, the Miami weekenders who’d made the grueling five hour drive on the single lane of road and spent their time dreading the drive back, the loose-limbed college students walking down Duval like they had something to prove, and the natives, who’d seen it all and took the world in stride. If there was something wrong with Key West, they didn’t notice, but Jared did, and if he didn’t find a way to exorcise the unease growing in the pit of his stomach, he was afraid it would keep growing until he burst.
Work certainly wasn’t an escape. So far, the conference had been a tedious disappointment. He kept up-to-date on the latest security systems and surveillance equipment for his own professional reasons, and while the freebies were a definite perk and having the opportunity for a little hands-on testing was nice, he’d yet to get anything substantial out of the experience. The chance to network with others in the business and share stories of their experiences had helped to keep him somewhat entertained, but it was the free time between seminars and at the end of the day that was driving him insane. He needed to be doing something, needed to keep his hands and mind occupied, and there were only so many times he could check in back home before Chad put out a hit on him.
“Dude, you’re in Key West. Isn’t that like some sort of holy ground for your people? Go get laid!”
“And catch a disease while I’m at it?” Jared snorted as he paced across his hotel room. “No, thank you.”
“You’ve got to do something. You can’t keep bothering your employees. Susannah’s threatening to quit. Mike’s threatening to fly out there and blow you himself if it’ll shut you up. Tom’s threatening to kill Mike if he tries. Seriously, Jared, you’ve got to leave them alone. You picked them, trained them, molded them into anal little freaks just like you. They know their jobs, and you’re on vacation. Enjoy it!”
He knew Chad was right, and the sad thing was, this conference was the closest thing he’d had to a vacation since college. He couldn’t help it if his job ate up the majority of his time. Running his own security firm dominated a good chunk of his hours, and he liked to think he was more of an interactive boss than just the guy who sat back and let others do all the work for him. It had been years since he’d had anything even resembling a private life. He no longer knew what to do with himself when he had more than ten minutes to spare, but he was positive Key West wasn’t the place to find out.
“I can’t. I can’t get comfortable here. This place is weird. The people are weird, and it’s too fucking hot. I mean, seriously, who the fuck holds a conference in the middle of summer in Florida? I think they’re hoping we’ll be so dazed with the heat we’ll buy whatever they tell us to.”
“All right, so you’re miserable. I get it. I’m sorry. Do what a normal person would do and go get drunk.”
Now that was something to consider. Normally, he hated the lack of control that came with being intoxicated, but he didn’t exactly have to worry here. There was nothing to be in control of.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Get a tattoo.”
Jared laughed into the phone. “Funny.”
“Look, you’re in the Keys. You’re surrounded by water. Swim. Snorkel. Dive. Hell, go try and break your neck on a jet ski, for all I care.”
“They do have some good kite-surfing down here.”
“Perfect! Go do that! Just leave us the hell alone!”
The phone went dead and for a second, Jared thought he’d lost the signal, but then he realized Chad had hung up on him. “Asshole,” he muttered and shoved the phone into his pocket.
He looked around the room, then out his window. It was getting close to sunset, too late for any water activities that night, but plenty of time to run down to the CVS on the corner. He could grab a case of beer, hang out on his balcony, and watch the Sunset Celebration from the unhindered view of his room. Probably wouldn’t get the Murray seal of approval-Chad would insist he actually join in the Celebration, not just observe it-but it fit his comfort level. He was better at a distance.
Jared gently pushed his way through the crowds of tourists who were starting to wander towards Mallory Square and almost reconsidered joining them. The cheerful sound of their voices tempted him with human interaction, but he was there alone and he couldn’t just barge in on a conversation. It was safer to stick with his plan, he thought, and walked on by to the store, obtaining his beer with plenty of time to spare. He settled out on the balcony, stretching his long legs out in front of him, twisted off the bottle’s cap, and forced himself to try and relax.
Unless there was some greater purpose involved-i.e., unless it was for the job-sitting still just wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t even manage half the bottle before his foot started an impatient tap-tap-tap-tap against his other foot. It was like there was this energy inside of him, this live wire strung alongside his veins that needed some sort of release. He began to feel jittery, like his skin was stretched too tight over his bones. He kept swallowing beer to keep from screaming.
It almost amused him to think he was driving himself insane just trying to watch the fucking sun set.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he mentally catalogued every muscle in his body and eased the tension away. Grabbing another beer to help ensure this relaxation, he let his eyes roam over the scene below him. Street performers, who had been set up and waiting for the people to arrive, were now vying for the crowd’s attention. The Cat Man was calling the masses over to watch his cats perform stupid pet tricks that occasionally involved flaming hoops. He quickly looked away-it was a little too sadistic for Jared’s taste, though the cats seemed fairly indifferent. Further down, one man was juggling while balancing on a tightrope while another swung like a pendulum as he was strung upside-down from a tripod. Strains of various instruments could be heard over the crowd-drums, guitar, bagpipes, conch shell-all of them unique, none of them really standing out.
At least half the tourists had a drink in their hands as they wandered from show to show and Jared lifted his own beer in a silent toast. If they had it in them to relax and enjoy a single moment in life, more power to them. If they could shut off their brains and shut out the rest of the world long enough to pretend nothing existed beyond their next cheap thrill, their next drink...well, he could only envy them. Chad said his inability to stop and smell the roses was because he was such an anal-retentive control freak. He claimed it was his over-developed sense of responsibility. It was possible they were both right.
“Fuck it,” he said and dug for his phone. He was going to catch the first flight out of this fucking state and go back to where he could be useful, where he could do something-anything-other than grow mold in this atmosphere of sluggish nothing.
While waiting to hear from the airline when he could get the hell out of the Keys, a musician down below propped himself up on the concrete border protecting the landscaping from the tourists. He removed the guitar from its case, which he left open to allow for any tips he might be granted, and began strumming softly on the strings. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple tune that wove its way through the evening air and into Jared’s blood, soothing the itch that was prickling through his veins. It reminded him of home, somehow, of drinking cold Dos Equis on warm Texas nights, of sitting out on the back porch watching the stars come out, of hours spent in laughter and story-telling with family and friends. The music from the other end of the phone playing while he was on hold began to irritate him, interrupting the purity of the guitar below, and he hung up the phone, took another drink, and listened.
The sweet slow song was just a warm up. The next tune had the musician’s fingers flying across the strings in complicated riffs that caused Jared’s eyebrows to rise towards his forehead. The guy was good, and the crowd agreed, its attention wandering away from the garish attractions towards the sound of something real. A few of the more inebriated tourists sat down on a circle around him, which the musician acknowledged by raising his head before returning to his guitar. They were entranced, forgetting about the drinks in their hands and the sun sinking into the horizon behind them. Despite the show nature was putting on over the water, they couldn’t tear their eyes off the itinerant musician and his guitar. More than anything in the world, Jared wanted to see what they were seeing, to know what was so captivating, but he couldn’t bring himself to break contact with the music long enough to leave the room.
The man played a full set there on the sidewalk, guitar and then voice weaving a spell over the tourists, filling the emptiness in their souls-filling the emptiness in his-with the music. And then, as the sky began to turn dark, it was over. Jared couldn’t move, still tied to his chair by the notes that held him down and the beer that controlled his limbs. He numbly watched as the man spoke with his audience, accepting money and adulation in equal parts, and then he packed up his guitar. The man set the case down on the border and lifted his arms into the air, stretching the kinks out of his limbs, bending one from side to the other. Turning to pick the case back up, he raised his head and their eyes met. Jared’s breath caught in his throat, his heart sticking in his chest as time came to a sudden halt.
It wasn’t just the music or the voice, it was the face-beautiful and warm, mischievous and sad and welcoming all at once. The face was an alluring puzzle, a mystery, one put on this earth just for him to solve, or so Jared had convinced himself by the time the green eyes refocused. Down below, the man winked up at him, then turned and disappeared into the dispersing crowd. Up on the balcony, Jared completely forgot about his plans to leave Key West. All he wanted to do was find the musician and learn the language of the man hiding behind those eyes.
The next day, Jared skipped out on the afternoon seminars, choosing instead to wander the streets of Old Town, easing through the tourists while keeping one ear tuned for the musician. Flashes of green and melodies of home had haunted his dreams during the night and continued to filter through his veins during the day, spreading outward until the fever covered him like a second skin. He felt overheated and clammy, wanting nothing more than to lie down with a cold beer in his hand and a cool washcloth over his forehead, but his body ached with the need to move and so he walked.
If there was one thing he’d discovered about Key West, it was that daylight Duval Street was as blatant about its sleaze as its nighttime self. Sex toys, ‘tobacco’ products, easy-to-carry alcohol, tee-shirts and thongs printed with every offensive catchphrase imaginable-all were available at eye-level no matter what height you were. His mouth twitched to picture wide-eyed children pointing to the dildo in the window or the bare-breasted and rather accurately modeled mannequin, or the torso displaying a pair of boxer-briefs, and displaying them rather well, Jared thought, wishing half his dates could fit a pair of underwear that nicely.
Not that he had a lot of dates.
Chance meetings, maybe. Advantageous moments. All right, whatever he could get in the bathrooms of bars or an occasionally in the nearest available bedroom-their place or a hotel, never his own. He simply wasn’t looking for a relationship, just a little release. Still, he would have considered himself lucky if any of them were as fit as the dummies lining the storefronts of Duval.
Jared rolled his eyes. Maybe Chad was right about him being hard-up if he was envying the inanimate.
Feeling the need for caffeine, he stopped into the Café de Paris for a cup of coffee and grabbed a slice of key lime on a stick while he was there. He couldn’t help it-he’d become addicted to the stuff. Pie. On a stick. Dipped in chocolate. He loved the way the smooth crunch of the chocolate complemented the creamy tartness of the key lime, how it was so sweet it made his teeth ache. It was the perfect dessert, made portable.
Stick in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, Jared made his way back into the sunshine. If he had one complaint about Key West-which, of course, he didn’t; he had a whole fucking list. But, if he had to narrow it down to one, it would be the weather. The heat and humidity sucked the life right out of him. He couldn’t begin to comprehend how people could layer liters of alcohol on top of that, even if the scantiness of their clothing may have helped.
Though a lack of clothing certainly wasn’t that guy’s problem.
Jared’s gaze came to rest on the living statue standing on a pedestal across the street from him. He was dressed up as...John Smith, maybe? The rough and sexy Colin Farrell version, not the clean-cut Disney version. Anyway, it was some figure from history-long hair, leather breeches, poofy shirt, suede boots-and every inch of him, every piece of clothing, every strand of hair, was white. Face paint, house paint, Jared didn’t know what it had taken, but he was completely white, like a marble statue. Which, Jared supposed, was the point. One arm was raised in front of him, a single finger pointing at some object in the distance, the other hand shading his eyes from the sun. Though his arm had to be killing him after holding it still for so long, he didn’t even waver.
Gulping down his pie, Jared watched as a family-mom, dad, two young sons-paused in front of the statue. The boys looked on him with awe and a little anxiety, not quite certain what to think of him. They both jumped and squealed with surprise when the finger moved down to point at them. Jared chuckled as the boys tentatively reached out to touch the statue, who didn’t move, no matter how much they prodded at him, but the second they let their guard down, he moved again. This time, Jared laughed out loud as the boys jumped a foot in the air. The statue turned his head just enough for their eyes to meet, and then he winked. Jared flushed, embarrassed at getting caught without quite knowing why, and hurried around the corner away from Duval.
Distracted by a steady stream of thoughts about his mystery, Jared somehow managed to kill the long hours until sunset before staking out a spot in the Square that would allow him to watch for the musician without appearing obvious about it. The sun fell lower, the crowds grew deeper, he bought a mojito from the old man everyone called Mr. Mojito, and then another, because the old man certainly earned his nickname, and the musician still hadn’t made an appearance. When it became clear that the man wasn’t going to show, Jared decided he’d might as well actually catch the sunset and then head in for the night. He turned around to face the water and nearly dropped his cup.
“Son of a bitch!” he swore, stumbling backwards. The musician stood in front of him, a broad smirk on his face, and for all his surveillance skills, Jared hadn’t even realized anyone had invaded his personal space. It was definitely not his finest moment. He blamed the mojitos.
“Looking for someone?” the man asked, smirk remaining firmly in place.
Jared’s eyes narrowed as he tried to regain his composure. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he grinned, then jerked his head towards the city. “Come on.”
Without waiting for an answer, he began weaving through the tourists as he made his way out of the Square. Jared didn’t know whether to admire the musician’s confidence in his belief that Jared would follow, or to be insulted by it. He figured there was only one way to find out and hurried to catch him before he was lost in the crowd. They walked away from Duval and the major tourist areas, the man striding without hesitation through the narrow alleys that passed as streets. Lush greenery barely managed to disguise the dilapidated condition of several of the houses, while carefully trimmed yards framed the few that managed to maintain the majesty of their centuries. Jared tried to keep track of the many turns and twists the man’s long strides led them through and was surprised when they stopped in what was once somebody’s backyard, and was still a backyard, but now belonged to a rather fancy B&B. The yard had been cleared of obstacles except for a tiki bar, a couple of tables, and some chairs, which were almost entirely filled with men and women drinking and chatting, a few of them holding instruments.
“There you are, Jenny-boy! We were starting to think you bailed on us!” A sexy man with an even sexier grin clapped Jared’s mystery on the back and drew him towards the group. “What took you so long?”
“Had to stop and collect something,” ‘Jenny’ said with a wink back at Jared.
That wink-he knew that wink, and not just from the night before. His musician was also a statue? Just who the hell was this guy?
The man with the grin looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow as he took in all of Jared. “Collect, huh. Like a stamp? A baseball card?” He paused a beat. “A stray?”
“Chris, play nice,” a blond man scolded, walking towards him. “This is the first boy Jensen’s brought home to meet the family in ages, and we don’t want to scare him off.”
“Yet,” Chris muttered loud enough for the whole yard to hear.
“Ignore the man under the hat,” the blond said, referring to the cowboy hat perched on top of Chris’s head as he held out a hand to Jared. “I’m Steve, the asshole’s Chris, and of course you already know Jensen.”
Of course, Jared thought bitterly, feeling completely ambushed, but he was never one to forget his manners and gave Steve’s hand a firm shake.
“I’m Jared.”
“Glad you could join us, Jared. Have a seat,” he said, pushing him towards an empty chair next to Jensen. “Beer?”
“That’s a good place to start.”
Jensen chuckled while Steve grabbed them all a round from the tiki bar, Chris eyeing him with obvious suspicion. “You play an instrument, Jared?” Chris asked, picking up his guitar.
“No.”
“Sing?”
“Does drunken karaoke count?”
“Not yet, but it’s still early,” Steve said, handing them each a bottle. “Give us a few hours and we’ll all be doing drunken karaoke. Hey Chris, if you’ve got a minute, Julie over there was wondering if you’d be kind enough to sign her chest.”
Chris took one look at Julie and her chest, barely constrained by her tiny top, and instantly forgot about his hostility towards Jared.
“Thanks, Steve,” Jensen said as Chris hurried off to oblige.
“Any time,” Steve smiled and followed Chris. Jared hoped it was to keep him out of trouble and not just to keep him distracted.
After a few minutes silence, Jensen looked over at him. “You listen to the radio much?”
“Some,” Jared shrugged.
“You heard of Kane?”
“Yeah.” His eyes widened. “These guys are...?”
“Yep,” Jensen said with a shit-eating grin.
Well, that explained the signing of the breasts. “Are you...?”
“Just a friend.”
And that explained the career as a street performer.
“So why aren’t you...?”
Jensen shrugged. “Not my thing.”
“Not a big fan of fame, fortune, sex?”
“I don’t have anything against the last two. Never experienced the first one, so I can’t give a definite opinion on that.”
“But that’s a definite yes on money and sex.”
“Just not an exchange of one for the other.”
Jared nodded his head. “Good to know.”
“You didn’t really think-”
“No. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to clarify.”
“I see. You know, maybe we should start over.” He held out his hand. “Jensen Ackles, not a prostitute.”
He shook Jensen’s hand. “Jared Padalecki, not a john.”
Jensen laughed. “Yeah, I kind of figured that. So, what brings you to Key West?”
“Convention. I’m in security.”
“Security?”
“My firm provides protection for people-we offer event security, personal body guards, set up security systems, whatever the situation requires.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Jared waited, but when no further information was forthcoming, he decided to prod. “And what do you do?”
Jensen looked at him with obvious disbelief and Jared shrugged.
“Hey, so far the only thing I know for certain is you’re not a prostitute.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, you were saying...?”
Jensen glared at him, then sighed. “I’m whatever I need to be that day. I’m a musician, street performer, tour guide, server, trash collector, bellman, bouncer, super. It just depends. If I’m needed, I’m called. If not, the street’s always open.”
“But why?”
“I’m sorry?”
Jared flushed picked at the label of his bottle in order to avoid Jensen’s eyes. “Well, it seems to me like you’ve got a lot of options, and I know you’ve got talent, and connections, and you don’t appear to be an idiot. Why not take advantage of that, do something...more?”
Jensen’s face hardened, his posture growing stiff. “You’ve known me all of, what, five minutes? I’ll take that shit from my parents. I’ll sometimes even take it from my friends, but there’s only one thing I want to take from you, only one thing I want you to give me, and a lecture is not it.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” Jared asked, surprised at the disappointment he was feeling when he’d known all along why he’d followed Jensen through the back alleys of Key West.
“Isn’t that why you came?” Jensen said with a cruel smile, the expression dimming his beauty, but Jared doubted anything would make him truly ugly. “Unless you really thought we were just going to sit around drinking beer and shooting the shit.”
And for a brief moment, Jared pitied him and whatever had given him that edge of brutality, but what he really wanted was to no longer have it pointed in his direction. “We couldn’t do all of the above?”
Jensen stared at him, blinked once, twice, and then his edge softened. “Yeah, we could do that,” he smiled and both of them relaxed.
They sat there until the beer ran out, drinking and talking, sharing the shallow facts of their histories, the same thing they’d have done in a bar surrounded by strangers instead of a luxurious backyard surrounded by...well, they weren’t Jared’s friends, but at least they were friendly. It was only when his head started to nod and his limbs felt warm and loose that he realized how late it was, and just how much he’d had to drink.
He looked up at Jensen and gave him a goofy smile. “I think I’m drunk.”
Jensen grinned at the way Jared was sprawled across his lap, head lolling against his stomach. “I think you are, too.”
They’d migrated from chairs to a tree trunk when both of them realized they had difficulty sitting upright without sliding down into the grass and decided to let gravity have its way.
“I can’t remember the last time I was drunk.”
“I’d be surprised if you could remember your name right now.”
“It’s Jared Tristan Pada-ada-dada-dadadada--”
“Jared,” Jensen interrupted, trying not to laugh and bringing Jared out of his trance.
“Dalecki,” he finished, triumphant.
“Well, you got it. Eventually.”
Jared grinned. “Told you.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jensen smiled, brushing the hair back from his face. It was all Jared could do not to arch into his touch, wanting to feel the heat of Jensen’s fingertips all over his skin. “Man, you are gonna feel like warmed-over ass in the morning.”
“I know.” He laughed. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Totally,” he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
Jared’s stellar mood went into a rapid decline. “Ooohhh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, looking mournfully down at his crotch as he sadly shook his head. “I don’t think it’s working right now.”
“We’ve both had too much to drink for it to be working right now. Roll over,” Jensen said, easing Jared off of him and rising to his feet with only a minimum of stumbling involved. Bracing his back against the tree, he held out his hands and pulled Jared to his feet.
“Oof.” Jared fell bodily into Jensen and stood there, pressing him into the bark. “Sorry.”
“Me, too,” Jensen murmured, taking what Jared felt to be shameless advantage of his inebriated state to touch him in all the right places. “You sure you’re too drunk?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sorrowful sigh. “Sucks.”
“It really does,” Jensen agreed. “Let’s see if we can get you up the stairs.”
“You stayin’ here?”
“Chris always makes sure I’ve got a room, just for nights like these.”
“He’s a good friend,” Jared said, his head resting on Jensen’s shoulder.
“The best.”
“My best friend’s a douche. But he’s the best.”
“Douche?” Jensen teased, and Jared punched his arm.
“Friend. He’d be very happy for me right now.”
“Because you’re too drunk to walk on your own?”
“Yeah,” he said with a silly smile. “And because I’m getting laid.” He frowned. “Or, I was.”
“Play your cards right, stud, and you still might. Just not right now.”
“Really?” If he were sober, he’d be embarrassed by how pathetic he sounded, but looking into Jensen’s green eyes, mesmerized at the way the irises sparkled at him, Jared could only think how lucky he was to have even caught Jensen’s attention.
Jensen seemed to feel the same as he leaned over to brush their lips together. “Really.”
The kiss was the last thing Jared remembered.
Lovely Way to Burn, Part 2