Real Person Fic - CW: As Boundless As the Sea [Part 1/4]
PART ONE
The first thing he notices when he awakens is the pure smell of water nearby. He turns his head to the left, finding that he feels no pain, and sees a cup resting on a small table with a larger pitcher, also full of water, next to it.
He thinks this may be a very kind hallucination. He takes the glass first, emptying it in moments and letting it drop to the floor, paying little attention to the sound of glass shattering as he seizes the pitcher instead. That keeps him busy a little while longer. It takes him about half a minute to drain the container dry.
"Wow," he hears from somewhere nearby. It comes from his right, opposite of where the water is, so of course he didn't think to look there.
His mental databanks have been programmed to translate all of the languages used by the speaking creatures on this planet. From what he can tell, 'wow' is a statement of shock or awe, not terribly meaningful without context. He has no previous contact with this species to judge what the cause for shock or awe might be in this moment.
He turns to look at the human; that is what they call themselves, humans. Beautiful creatures, and this one is no exception. It's a male, taller than average, with pigmentation ranking at about .74 on the spectrum of his species, according to the system of analysis the Engelons categorize them by. It is smiling. "Awfully thirsty for someone who nearly swallowed a river."
Thirsty. According to the translation his databanks procure, the correct response to the observation that he is 'thirsty' would be 'no shit,' but he decides to focus on the more fascinating issue at hand. River. That must have been what saved him. The cool slip of running water, appearing from nowhere, cut right into the land.
When his brethren dropped him onto this planet, leaving him to die from lack of water, they must have never imagined a thing as glorious as a river could possibly exist. He certainly never would have. He was halfway to dying of starvation when he found the damn thing, and he'd still been so mesmerized he had hovered on the edge of it for a few precious moments, wondering if it was a trick. But he was in too much agony to really question it. If it was a trap, he would die just the same as if it wasn't.
So he took the chance, crawled in and let himself shut down, still in too much distress to function correctly. He trusted his body to recover once he was immersed, so he blacked out and, judging by the fact that he's not dead, the water did its work.
How it led to him waking up inside of some human's house, propped up in what seems to be a very large version of a sleep capsule-a bed, his translator supplies, they call them beds-he does not know. "How did I get here?"
"I found you floating face down in the river about a third of a mile down," the human says, pointing as if that's going to supply any useful information. "I thought you'd drowned."
Drowned. He hears the word unfiltered in the human's native tongue. He searches through his databanks again, but he knows it's in vain. There's no translation available for the word 'drowned.'
"What is drowned?"
The man seems to be angered by the question. "C'mon, are you fucking with me? You know damn well what drowned means."
He shakes his head, so the human tries to explain, "When you get caught in water and go under and there's no air to breathe."
They have so much water here they can be swallowed up by it. This really is a paradise. "Drowned is a good thing?" he asks, just to clarify, because the man had sounded worried.
"Not really." The human laughs softly and shakes his head as if in disbelief. "You die if you can't get oxygen."
"But there's water?"
"Yes, there's lots of water."
He nods. "I think I would like to drown."
The man frowns, his eyes flashing strangely as he takes steps closer to the bed. "I was worried that might be how you got in there." He pauses for a long time. "Well, if you decide to try again, would you mind not using my river? Not a big fan of fishing bodies out. And it was so stressful trying to save you the first time, I just don't think I could handle it again."
Yes, he had wondered about that. "Why did you pull me out?"
The human's face changes then to an expression he can hardly identify. Is it sadness? Compassion? He'd observed these faces on screens, but the effect is much more powerful up close. "Why don't you want to be saved?"
"I'm not worth the effort you expended," he reasons, which is true. He's never once in his life pulled his weight, and the man might have lost time and precious hydrogen with the effort of pulling his body out and bringing him here and keeping him alive. "It was a waste of your potential."
"What's your name?" he asks.
The question is both unrelated to the topic at hand and foreign. Names are for weak species, for creatures that form attachments. The Engelons have no names; they are all cogs on a bigger machine. Faceless, impersonal limbs belonging to a better body than they could ever hope to achieve alone. But the man does not know this, and he's expecting an answer.
They did have a word for him, or maybe it was more of a curse. It meant broken, defective, unproductive. "Jensen."
The man must not know anything at all. He smiles kindly and says, "That's a nice name," and Jensen clearly deserved the insult as much as they always told him he did, because that smile makes him proud to have a name.
"I'm Jared." Jared takes another step and grabs Jensen's hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. You've been here for two days. I thought for a while-" Jensen watches Jared's throat work as he swallows. "I thought you might not wake up."
"I'm awake now. And I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you."
Jared bites his bottom lip and nods. "Do you have family I can call? I didn't want to get anyone else involved in case you-I was studying medicine for a while and you seemed like you just needed a little R&R, so I thought it might be better in the end if I waited to talk to you before sending you off."
Jensen shakes his head. The thought of leaving presents a dull ache of disappointment. He has studied these creatures for so long that finally being able to act out all the rituals of their language feels like a rare gift in Jensen's life. He never actually expected to meet a human, though he quietly dreamed of what it might be like.
He laughs, though the sound comes out rather cruel, as he realizes he has his brethren to thank for making this wish come true. They’d meant for him to die, die in agony, because of his fascination for these creatures. Now he has gotten to speak with one instead. "My family will not want to hear from me," he says. "They cast me out. I'll just return to the river."
"Don't do that," Jared says, his voice much softer than it has been since they first began speaking. "Jensen, you've got a home here as long as you promise it'll keep you out of rivers."
Jensen can't blame the man for not wanting to let a stranger live off his water. He would probably not be any more generous if he owned such a thing. Still, he finds the chance to stay with a human for any period of time a very thrilling consolation prize. And the man has already proven willing to share some of his water, though perhaps the pitcher on the table was not for Jensen after all.
“I…will accept. Thank you,” Jensen says, wondering if the offer had been genuine. These creatures tell things called jokes. Jensen is only now realizing he may have just failed to detect one. “If you really mean it?”
Jensen’s human steps closer to the bed with a small smile at the turn of his lips. He reaches out, stroking a large hand over Jensen’s forehead and into his hair. “You’re still a little clammy,” he says. “You oughta get some more rest.”
_______________________________________________________________
Jensen-as he now thinks of himself-has been studying Jared's species for months. It was a punishment, actually, but a poor one. Humanity was the only job Jensen ever got that he could make himself care about.
He has never taken pleasure in planning wars, though he was not stupid enough to admit why. Not out loud. The others probably guessed it. He didn't thrill in the thought of bringing pain to other creatures, not even the ones that stood between the Engelons and a big, blue planet. Engineering never held much interest, either, though he was serviceable enough with machinery, at least until he got distracted. Even the ship's stores of water failed to spark Jensen's interest-it was always enough for his ration to come at the appointed times. He never paused to wonder where it came from or how much of it was stashed on the ship or how much time they had before it would run out. Not enough, judging from how quickly the others threw him off once he was formally judged unworthy of the water it took to sustain him.
Jensen doesn't blame them, not really. He knows his failings. He has, and has always had, a curious habit of stopping sometimes just to think. Just to imagine. Not practical things, like where his next drink would come from. Jensen would question whether the water they feasted on was alive, if it could feel like he could.
It was not until they put him to studying humans that he found other creatures who shared this particular trait. Daydreaming, that is their word for it. A very nice word, in Jensen’s opinion. Another thing he never said out loud.
“Look who’s finally up and about.” Jared comes in wearing a gray shirt, covered in wet stains, and his hair is dripping, too. It makes Jensen very thirsty just to look at the man.
He smiles at Jensen as he pulls a towel off the back of one of the chairs arranged around the table and rubs it over his face. Jensen has been bed-ridden for the entire day since he first woke up, his strange, bulky human legs unwilling to cooperate when he tried to tell them to walk. Tentacles were so much more practical, and Jensen wishes, not for the first time, that it were easier to convince himself to slip back into what should be his natural form.
Today is his first time upright since he drowned, the first time he could convince those stupid sticks humans call limbs to bend and move in places where they are capable of doing so. He only made it as far as the kitchen before he fell into the first seat he could find. It's embarrassing for Jensen to have the human walk in now and catch him trying to teach himself to walk.
"I'm not," Jensen says. "I'm sitting down. It's very nearly the opposite."
Jared laughs, rolling his eyes and tossing the towel on the table in front of Jensen. "Smartass."
Jensen stares at the wet fabric, his stomach beginning to rumble. He can smell the moisture, though he still doesn't know where it came from. Jared has been very kind, bringing Jensen the same pitcher and a similar (though unshattered) glass to drink from every day. He has allowed Jensen to gorge himself on nearly twice what he was rationed on board his mothership, with nothing more than a raised eyebrow when he returns to Jensen's room and finds that the large jug is, once again, empty.
So it's not like he's starving. But Jared just dropped this perfectly good watery towel down in front of him, and Jensen can't help wondering where Jared returned from so wet. "Where were you?"
"Went for a run," Jared says, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle full of a bright orange liquid. Gatorade, the label says. It smells like water, too. Everything on this perfect planet seems to be made of water. "Nice long one, down to the river's edge. No floating bodies this time, which is lucky, cause I only have so many guest rooms to put you guys up in."
Jared grins and watches Jensen like he's waiting for some kind of reaction, but Jensen doesn't know what it should be, so he just sits quietly. The human seems upset by this.
"Not much of a sense of humor," Jared finally says after a long silence.
He frowns. "I can try to do better."
Jared shakes his head. "Aww, c'mon now, don't go all kicked puppy on me. It was a joke. You know, I'm not so good around strangers, either. I get all kinds of awkward. You just need a few days to relax. I've been there."
Jensen is not entirely sure he believes this. Jared seems perfectly comfortable. "You're lying," he says. "To make me feel better. I'm no less a stranger to you than you are to me."
"Nonsense!" Jared replies. "I hung out with you plenty while you were still passed out. Two full days I had nothing to do but talk to you. You should have heard how awkward I was the first day. Kept asking you about the weather. You were polite enough not to make fun of me, though."
Jensen nearly explains to Jared that he could not respond because he was asleep and did not hear what Jared said to him, but then, very suddenly, he laughs instead. That's the joke. Jensen got a joke.
"There you are," Jared says, giving Jensen a light swat on the back. "That's one hell of a smile you've got when you loosen up. I'm looking forward to seeing it more."
Jensen looks away, which makes his eyes land on the towel again, and he remembers what they were talking about. "Why did you go for a run?" he asks. "Was something chasing you?"
Jared makes a sound like the Earth pigs Jensen once studied from his lab. "Oh, yeah. This ferocious beast." He looks down fondly at the brown creature that has been excitedly following at his heels since he walked in the door. "And maybe the jelly doughnuts I let myself have when I went into town last week."
The ferocious beast looks over at Jensen, cocking its head to one side. It watches him for a few seconds, then walks over and presses its face against Jensen's thigh. What a strange greeting. "Hello," Jensen says to it, assuming that it must speak the same language as Jared. "You don't seem very ferocious to me."
"That's my girl, Sadie," Jared tells him. He's grinning and watching as Jensen pats her on the head when Jensen looks up and meets his eyes.
Apparently, humans come in more shapes and sizes than Jensen's research indicated. "She's very attractive," Jensen says.
"She's a good girl," Jared agrees, patting her on her side. "Aren't you a good doggie?"
She turns her face, licking Jensen's hand as a reminder that he's stopped paying attention to her. That's when Jensen gets it-she's a pet. A dog. He heard about dogs but never saw one in any of his case studies. He's relieved, however, that he did not entirely mess up the parameters of what makes a human, well, human.
"But please explain," Jensen presses on. He wants to understand, he really does. "Why did you go outside to run if you were not being threatened?"
"It's good for you?" Jared says, as if it's more a question than an answer. How is Jensen supposed to collect data on Jared's motivations if even Jared does not know? "And fun? I like the view?"
Okay, so humans are not the most productive or logical creatures in the universe. Jensen never intended to argue that they were. But their actions are so irrationally wasteful that they circle back around to being worth protecting. They want to go for a run; they go for a run. Just like that. There's something to learn from that kind of behavior, even if Jensen can't quite pin it down just yet.
"Just because," Jensen supplies.
Jared smiles. He points a finger at Jensen with one hand as the other raises the orange liquid to his mouth to take a long sip. Then he lowers it, wiping the back of his hand over his lips and giving Jensen a concerned look-over. "Hey, are you hungry? I can whip us up some breakfast. I've got, uh," Jared turns back to his refrigerator, opens it and stares inside for a little over a minute. Then he closes it, turns back to Jensen, and continues, "eggs. Eggs are pretty much all I've got as far as breakfast food goes. Well, and cereal. But I think you need something hardier. I make a mean omelet."
According to Jensen's mental scans, an omelet is a way humans cook eggs. How an omelet could be mean, or why Jensen would want such an omelet, is another matter worth looking into. He's only spent about an hour altogether talking to Jared since he woke up, but already his list of possible research topics seems unending. What a species-and this is only one of billions of them.
"I would love a glass of water," Jensen replies when he realizes Jared is waiting for an answer. He hopes he isn't asking for too much, but then, Jared did offer.
"And?"
"And…another glass of water after that?"
Jared laughs. "Man, I don't think I've seen you eat anything since you woke up. You should be dying by now."
"I've had plenty to drink," Jensen reasons.
"This is true," Jared says, tilting his head in concession. "I've seen fish who like water less than you."
Jensen does a quick search for fish and finds that there are animals on this planet who, like the Engelons, thrive in water and die without a constant supply. Good, this is progress. Now he has a word for himself that Jared will understand. "I am what you call a fish, yes."
"Alright, Nemo, fair enough," Jared says. He reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher not unlike the one he's been leaving by Jensen's bedside. Then he gets a cup from one of the small wooden cabinets by the window over his sink and fills it. "Here you go. But you really need to eat something, too. Sometimes, after you've been sick for a while, you're so exhausted you don't realize you're hungry until you start eating. I learned that in school. I think. I don't know. It was a long time ago." Jared stops himself, then shakes his head and gets back on track, looking at Jensen and saying in a stern voice, "My point is, you should be hungry and I am going to make you something. Something delicious."
Jensen shrugs, willing to indulge Jared on this. Sure, he doesn't need food the way humans do, but there's no reason to assume omelets will be any harder to adjust to than the atmosphere on this planet was. Besides, food is very important to humans. All of Jensen's research has pointed to sharing meals as the most common way to fuse connections, and Jensen will never understand humans if he can't understand this ceremony.
"Yes, I will have a mean omelet," Jensen says. "Thank you very much for the offer."
Jared looks relieved out of all measure to hear Jensen agree. "You're not a vegetarian, are you? I mean, it's fine if you are. Just gonna need to rethink how I cook…everything."
He shakes his head. He's not anything that he knows of, so it may or may not be true, but he doesn't want to inconvenience Jared any more than he already has.
Jensen cannot attest to the meanness of the omelet Jared serves him. It does not seem to have very much personality at all, but perhaps it was, like Jared thinks Jensen is, just shy. He makes a note to try to sustain a longer conversation with his next omelet before eating it. What Jensen can definitely confirm about omelets (whether mean or otherwise) is that they are wonderful.
All food, Jensen learns quickly, is rather wonderful.
"See," Jared says, setting down a plate with two things he calls 'sandwiches' on it. "I told you you were hungry."
"I will never doubt you again," Jensen promises. He bites into one of the sandwiches on the plate, which makes this his sixth.
"I'm worried I'm gonna break your heart completely here, but, uh, I should probably let you know that that's the last of the bread I had. And ham. And cheese. So, uh, basically there are no more sandwiches after those."
"No more sandwiches," Jensen asks, looking up and letting the bread droop sadly between his fingers. He would have paced himself if he'd realized how scarce these delicacies were. "Ever?"
Jared laughs. "Just until I go to the market again, you big drama queen. I'll try to head into town tomorrow, alright? You can come with if you think you'll be up for it."
"I don't know if I'll make it," Jensen admits. "My legs don't seem to be very functional."
"Nah, they'll be fine." Jared snatches the other sandwich off the plate and takes one bite before putting it back in front of Jensen. Jensen pouts just the slightest bit as he watches Jared chew and swallow a piece of his delicious sandwich. "Just need to get your bearings back. I think some exercise will do you good. Wanna come on my run tomorrow? Or walk, I guess, you're probably not ready for a run. But I can give you a nice tour of the ranch and help toughen your muscles." Jared laughs. "Besides, when was the last time you saw the sun? You're so pale you're almost see-through."
Jensen decides not to point out that just a few days ago he was completely translucent. And covered in much more user-friendly limbs than the sorry excuses Jared seems so eager to run around on.
Then again, he chose this body. Not on purpose, but in his own way. He'd been as shocked as the rest of the collective when he'd rolled out of his sleep capsule and landed on legs rather than tentacles. He tried to tell that to his fellow Engelons, but they weren't interested in his excuses.
Anyway, no amount of explaining could hide what Jensen's new form meant. Engelons don't shift at will. They consist predominantly of mental processes, and those processes are what hold their physical matter together. Their bodies reflect what their minds perceive as the correct shape for them, and Jensen's mind had confused his own form with that of the humans. His brethren took it as a sign that Jensen felt more loyalty toward humankind than Engelonkind, and they were not wrong. He didn't mean to take a side, but it's not something he could flip a switch on once he had.
And it wasn't like his track record did him any favors. He'd spent nearly a month trying to convince the collective that they should approach humans peacefully, explain their need for water and try to offer technology as a way to balance out a trade. Peaceful relations, a way for everyone to get what they wanted without destroying the fascinating animals that have already built so much on the Earth's surface. Jensen was never exactly what one would call popular, but after making this argument publicly, he became even more scorned than before.
So they already hated him, but it was not until he woke up in this human body that they finally accepted just how flawed he was. It was not sentiment that allowed Jensen to live amongst them as long as he did, but the communal shame he caused. An infected limb like him on the Engelon body reflected poorly on all of them. They tried every possible cure before amputation.
He looks at Jared's eager expression, apparently genuinely wanting nothing more than for Jensen to go on a walk with him, and he doesn't really miss belonging to the Engelon body. Now he has his own body, one that reflects what he thinks and feels, even if it is a little unwieldy. One that can do things like go for a walk-just because.
So he nods to accept Jared's offer and vows to spend the whole night pacing back and forth in his room if that's what it takes to learn how to move his new legs in the way that comes so naturally to his host.
_______________________________________________________________
"You sure you're feeling alright?" Jared stops on the path, turning and putting a hand on Jensen's shoulder to steady him.
"I'm fine," Jensen tells him, for the millionth time (that is a human expression Jared taught him-Jensen has not really said it that many times). He gives Jared a smile he hopes is convincing. "Just a little wobbly on my land legs."
Jared grins. "You look like a calf. We used to have cows, you know. Whole herds of 'em. Back when the ranch was a real ranch and shit actually grew on the farmland."
Jared sighs, looking out at the large patch of green ahead of him. From what he's told Jensen, this all belongs to him. The idea that any creature can own things for himself, let alone big things he can't hold, like farms and rivers, is not one Jensen has managed to completely wrap his head around just yet.
For an Engelon, just wanting to be his own creation, to think and feel things that were not shared by every member of the collective, was indulgence enough. Even with all the transgressions he thrilled in before they finally threw him away, Jensen would never have dared to think that he could own something and keep it all to himself. Now he has a name, and that's all his; it seems big until he puts it next to everything that's Jared's.
The human shakes his head, looking away from all his property and giving Jensen a wary smile. It does not bring automatic happiness, owning things, not in the way Jensen would have assumed. That's easy enough to tell from the disappointed glaze over Jared's expression. "Anyway, the point is, I saw a lot of calves born, and they all waddled along just like that when they took their first steps."
Jared is teasing, Jensen knows, from the way his voice rises and falls and from the fact that Jared always seems to be teasing someone-if not Jensen then himself or, on rarer occasion, Sadie. He moves quickly then, wrapping an arm around Jensen's middle and picking him up a few feet off the ground. "Need me to carry you?"
Jensen slaps at his arms and Jared drops him, though not so quickly that he doesn't make sure Jensen has good footing once he touches the ground. "You're annoying. You know that?"
"Everyone says so," Jared replies. He gives Jensen an encouraging shove in the side, moving him farther along the path. "Come on. You think you can make it another fifteen minutes? I'll show you my favorite place."
When they reach it, Jared's 'favorite place' doesn't look all that different than many of the other spots they've passed since leaving Jared's house. It's an empty field with the same whitewashed wooden fence around it that has been hovering at the edge of the path all day. There's a huge oak tree blocking out the sun, which does make for a better, cooler temperature, Jensen will admit, though he doesn't think it is in any way more significant than the other trees.
There is one strange thing about it. Dangling from one of the branches is a long, thick rope and tied to the end of that rope, a big black tire, like the ones that serve as legs for the shuttles humans use to transport themselves.
Jared walks up to the wheel and sits in the middle. It doesn't look all that comfortable. "This is where my brother and sister and I used to play when we were little. It was like a magical world back then, I swear. We'd have so much fun." He rises to his feet and pushes the tire. It swings out about three feet and then back toward Jared. "It's still a good place to come and clear my mind. Always quiet. Never used to be back then, but it's not bad."
He smiles at Jensen in a way that makes even Jensen aware that he should not ask what happened to make it so quiet. "You can come here, too, if you ever need to think about anything. If you want a little privacy."
Jensen returns the smile, taking a few steps into the field rather than hanging back by the fence where he had been. He stops about an arm's length from Jared and wraps his hand around the rope just above the rubber tire. "I've never had somewhere to go just to think before," he says. "I will like it here, too."
"Beats the hell out of the river at least," Jared says, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think about that anymore."
"I won't," Jensen promises, not sure what he's promising, really.
He thought at first that Jared just didn't want to share, but now he's not so sure. There's some greater significance for Jared in Jensen's wanting to go to the river. For Jensen it's a beautiful place, it's the impossible thing that appeared out of nowhere, saved his life, then carried him here so he could meet Jared. For Jared it's just the opposite. He seems more afraid for Jensen's sake than greedy whenever he talks about the river.
Logical or not, it's not so much to ask, for all his help, that Jensen not return to the water Jared pulled him from.
He decides to inspect the tree, walking a circle around the large trunk. The bark is rough to the touch, and Jensen finds it terrifyingly real. Everything was smooth and carefully assembled aboard his mothership. This world is bounteous, it's true, but that doesn't mean it's safe. The edges under his fingers could hurt someone. Jensen just can't decide if the thought thrills him or makes him long for home.
"What do you think?"
Jensen pulls his hand away from the tree, his head snapping up. He'd almost forgotten Jared was here, but now the human is standing directly in front of him, watching him with an air of expectation.
"I think maybe I like it," he says.
Jared's expression changes to a soft smile, and he reaches out, his hand resting on Jensen's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it yet?"
Jensen feels his face pull together, the way his muscles always tense when he is confused in this body. "About what?"
"Whatever made you go to the river. You don't have to tell me if you don't want," Jared continues, leaning against the bumpy oak as if it doesn't even scare him. As if it's natural, though Jensen supposes it is in his world. "But if you do need to talk-I've been there. I really have. I know how important it is just to have someone to listen." He laughs, scratching the back of his neck and then dropping his hand uncomfortably. "There was no one like that for me. I think it would have made a lot of difference."
He gives Jensen another pat and then turns away, and Jensen can still feel the warm spot on his shoulder where Jared's hand had been. He stares as Jared walks away from him, until he reaches the entrance to the field and looks back at Jensen. "Come on, then," he says, waving Jensen over. "Let's go home. You can have first shower."
"First shower?" Jensen asks.
Jared grins. "Yeah, I bet you're dying for one."
Jensen doesn't know how to tell Jared that the term 'shower' is unfamiliar to him, so he walks silently until they reach the house and Jared leads him to the bathroom. Then he turns a knob and something downright miraculous happens: water begins to fall from the sky.
"Holy shit," Jensen says, watching with wide eyes as the shower continues. "Yes, I definitely really need a shower. I forgot. Just how much I like showers."
Jared smiles, sticking one hand under the spray quickly, then shaking it off. Jensen realizes he probably sounds like an idiot, but he's a little too in awe to think clearly, and Jared doesn't call him out. "Temperature's good. There aren't any tricks to getting this one to work. Hold on, let me just grab you a towel."
He returns about half a minute later and gives Jensen a dark green towel, then leaves saying something about letting Jensen undress. Jensen spends the next three hours in the shower, and the water never runs out.
_______________________________________________________________
He joins Jared for a walk every day after that, and it helps Jensen recover his strength. So has food. Within his first few days as Jared's guest, he learns that although these things are not requirements for his species, they bring him many of the same benefits that they give to humans.
Exercise, for example, leaves a burn in Jensen's muscles for only a fraction of the time that not using his new legs frequently did, with the added bonus that he has increased his ability to control them. It does not come close to the dexterity he had with his tentacles, of course, but he has finally realized that this is to be expected. Jared can only control specific points in his limbs (joints, he calls them), too, and he's been using them his whole life. That's good enough for Jensen, even if the body will always be a little too stiff next to the memory of his languid Engelon appendages.
And food-well, okay. Jensen's not entirely sure food has done anything for him except for taste good. But the things Jared cooks…they just taste really, really good. Jensen looks forward to their meals all day, not because of the water he's served with them but because of the pleasure he derives from the act of sitting down to eat with Jared. It's the only time Jensen can count on Jared's company, those three meals a day. Not that Jared is hard to get a hold of the rest of the time, but he has his own things he does, and he lets Jensen have his privacy. When they eat, though, there's no pretense to privacy or separation. It's the first human ritual Jensen really, truly feels he understands the significance of.
He maybe gets a little thrill, as well, from the dirty thought of just how much time he wastes eating and walking and talking to Jared. What bounty, to be so idle. Jensen has discovered strengths and abilities he never would have as an Engelon, because they never would have taken the time to try out a new routine just to see if there might be benefits. Jensen sees it as a great big fuck you (another phrase he learned from Jared) to his collective every time he sits down at the table.
The truth is: Jensen is happy here. He likes Jared, and he likes Earth. There's more water than he could ever drink and more kindness than he could ever hope to comprehend. He still doesn't understand why Jared allows him to linger when he has contributed nothing and has, in fact, slowed many of Jared's routines. Jared now has to cook twice as much, walk rather than run in the mornings, and work around an added body in his space, but he makes all these adjustments like Jensen's doing him a favor just by being there to enjoy them.
Tonight, Jared is singing (Jensen is no expert, but it is bad singing) along to the radio and shaking his hips in a way he calls dancing (Jensen also has suspicions about whether Jared is as good a dancer as he claims to be, but Jared just puts his hand over his heart and plays dead whenever Jensen brings them up) as he shuffles around the kitchen making dinner.
"How do you feel about seafood?" Jared asks, turning to Jensen and waving whatever he has in his hands. Jensen's stomach turns when he realizes it's three limp tentacles dangling in Jared's grasp. "Kinda gross looking, huh?"
"Extremely," Jensen replies, watching Jared continue to dance with their food. It seems a little morbid, eating something's limbs like that, but then human habits are beyond him. He just hopes they didn't come off a person.
"Hey Jensen, wanna shake my tentacle?" Jared holds one of the limbs out to him, wiggling it along with his eyebrows. Jensen feels himself blush. Humans are very private about their tentacles from what he can tell, and even though he knows Jared's only joking about the food he's preparing, it still makes his face burn red.
To distract himself, Jensen rolls his eyes. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"
"You're no fun." Jared turns back around and takes a big, sharp blade to the tentacles. Just watching makes Jensen ache in sympathy. "Tell me something about you," Jared instructs as he continues to work. "You've been here a couple of weeks now and I feel like the only things I know about you are that you're kinda bitchy and you have a drinking problem."
Jared makes sure to pause what he's doing so that he can stick his tongue out at Jensen, and Jensen puts his newfangled education on human behavior to good use, raising one of his middle fingers for Jared's benefit.
"What do you want to know?"
He watches Jared's big shoulders shrug. Jared has been very careful about asking Jensen to talk about his past, which is lucky for Jensen. It's not like he can share much of his biography. "Anything you don't mind talking about," he answers. "Like, where are you from?"
"Up," Jensen replies, stalling. He tries to remember the country names on the map Jared has posted in his living room, but all he knows is the shape of the continents as he saw them from his mothership. "Um, up north. Very north."
"Canada north?" Jared asks.
Sure, why not. "Yes, Canada. I'm from Canada."
"Canada's pretty big." Jared sets the food on the stovetop to cook and then opens the refrigerator, pulling out a brown bottle and popping off the top. "Anywhere in particular? I used to have an aunt in B.C., just outside of Vancouver. Never got a chance to visit, though."
"What a coincidence," Jensen enthuses, hoping he's coming off as genuinely excited. "I'm from Vancouver."
"Huh," Jared replies, lifting the bottle to his lips, his head tilting back as he drinks.
Jensen's eyes rest on Jared's throat, as they often do when it moves like this, though he's not so sure why he finds it so exhilarating. Something about the action makes Jensen feel flushed, and this time Jared's eyes catch his when he tilts his head back down and swallows, and he gives Jensen a subtle smile, like maybe he knows what's keeping Jensen mesmerized, even as Jensen has no idea.
Jensen coughs and looks away.
"I guess that explains why you're so weird all the time," Jared teases. "What with you being Canadian and all."
"Fuck you," Jensen says, laughing as he shakes his head. "You're a Tex-ass."
"Born and bred!" Jared replies, putting on a thick accent and resting his hands over his belt.
"It wasn't a compliment." Jensen grins, because he knows how proud Jared is of his home state; he has to hear about it all the time. "It means you smell like sweat and digested Mexican food."
Jensen doesn't actually know what those things smell like-his body can only detect the scent of water-but he's picked up a few tricks since he got here, including how to press Jared's buttons.
Jared cracks up at the insult, kicking Jensen under the table. "Did they freeze your heart up in the North Pole, Jenny? It's okay if they did. You can tell me."
"They sure tried." Jensen laughs. Poor Canada, wherever that is, probably deserves better than to be a stand in for his Engelon roots.
"D'you miss it?" Jared asks, his voice softer now, less teasing for once. "Ever plan to go back?"
"No." Jensen thinks of home, his real home, and he'd rather dehydrate. "Never."
Jared changes the subject. "What's your last name?"
Jensen sighs. Having a name, Jensen gets. Having two just seems excessive. He looks around the room and his eyes settle on the stove; he mumbles out the first thing he can think of. "Tentacles."
They seemed like as good a choice as his other options-chair, fridge, pot-for Jensen to identify with. He doesn't realize how stupid the answer is until after he's already said it.
Jared leans forward, making a face like he doesn't buy it, and Jensen thinks he's in for it, but then he gets lucky. "Sorry, didn't hear you. Did you say Ackles?"
"Yes," Jensen lies. "Ackles. That's me."
"Any relation to the radio guy?"
Dammit. Jensen frowns, and, again, Jared jumps in and saves him from fucking up. "Shit, I'm sorry, Jensen. We don't have to talk about your family. Forget it." He looks around and then gives Jensen a too-big, very obviously fake smile. "You want a beer? I'm gonna get you a beer."
Jared does just that, his chair making a scraping sound on the floor as he hurries to his feet. Jensen's not sure what upset Jared, and he feels a little guilty being relieved, but he wasn't going to have any good answers to these questions, and he already got lucky with the tentacle thing.
He sniffs at the bottle Jared sets down in front of him, and Jensen detects some water. Jared has beers all the time, so Jensen figures they must be pretty delicious and takes a long drink. It's not until he's swallowing, when the liquid hits his throat, that he doubles over in pain, spitting out as much as he can.
His whole mouth is on fire, and Jensen feels his body beginning to convulse right there on the dining room floor.
"Jesus Christ!" he hears, then "Jensen!"
Within moments, Jared is kneeling by his side, cupping his face and trying to say something to him. Jensen can't focus on the questions he asks. All he can think or say is, "Water! Water, please."
Jared disappears for a while, and Jensen's mouth is still burning; he keeps gagging up whatever that venom was until he feels Jared holding a cup to his lips. Jensen nearly clamps his mouth shut against any liquid, but he smells the water, much stronger than it was in the beer that caused this reaction, and gulps down greedily.
He feels the cool, pure taste of water spread through him, first his mouth and then down, cleansing out the worst of the pain. He finishes the water and sits up, still coughing. "More, please."
Jared obeys, returning with a whole pitcher. "What the hell, dude?" he asks as he refills Jensen's cup.
Jensen doesn't even try to answer until he's emptied that one as well, and he feels almost like he might not die, but it's a near thing. "That stuff," Jensen says, glaring up at the table. "What was that?"
"It's just a beer," Jared replies, looking from the bottle and back to Jensen's face with a wild expression. "Are you allergic or something?"
"I don't know," Jensen says, his voice scratchy. He tries to soothe his throat by rubbing it, but only the water seems to be working, and even with that to help, Jensen still feels an unbearable ache in all his limbs. "I've never had it before."
"You've never had a beer?" Jared asks, like this is the most ludicrous thing that has ever come out of Jensen's mouth. Jensen finds this hard to believe, considering. "What the hell goes on in Canada?"
"Ugh," Jensen replies, trying to stand by bracing himself on his chair. He slips, though. Jared catches him, holding him up and helping him to his feet.
"Forget it," Jared says. "What do you want to do?"
"Bed," Jensen tells him. His legs feel more useless than ever, hanging as limp as the tentacles Jared chopped up and threw into their dinner. "Ow. Ow."
Jared doesn't laugh at him. He sweeps Jensen up into his arms and carries him slowly to the room Jensen has been staying in, dropping him into bed without ceremony. Jensen crawls up to his pillow, clutching the comforter for dear life.
"I'll bring you more water, okay?" Jared tells him. "Just hold on."
"Gotta clean up," says Jensen, remembering the mess he left on the kitchen floor and feeling ashamed. "Fuck."
Jared pushes him back down into bed. "Don't even think of it, Jensen. I've got it."
Jensen nods because he probably can't make it that far, and just the thought of seeing that brown bottle again makes him feel like he'll die.
His body goes into overdrive before Jared even makes it back with the water. Jensen lets himself shut down, wishing he had a river to fall asleep in. His chances of waking up again would probably improve significantly if he did.
_______________________________________________________________
He does wake up again. There's a warm, wet towel resting on his forehead, and when Jensen manages to get his eyes open, he sees Jared sitting up at his side.
"Jensen." Jared leans closer and looks at him, laughing softly. "Fuck, man. One sip of alcohol and you look like I did after my first high school party."
It's not making any sense to Jensen, and he doesn't really have the energy to ask Jared to explain. Jared takes the towel and wipes it over Jensen's face, wetting his parched skin, and Jensen closes his eyes, making a content sound and leaning into the touch. "My head hurts," he mumbles.
"Some hangover you've got there," Jared replies. "You've been out of it for almost a day and a half."
Jensen's eyes shoot open in shock when he hears that, and Jared laughs again, but it's not a bright sound. Jensen realizes right then how much he likes Jared's usual laugh, now that he's comparing it to whatever that was.
"How could you not tell me-?" Jared stops, takes a deep breath, and starts again. "I'm so glad you're okay. Are you okay? God, you had me worried."
There are dark circles under Jared's eyes, the kind humans get when they go too long without sleeping. And Jared looks worried, even as he's trying to make another joke about Jensen being something called a lightweight.
"I'm fine," he says, because he still feels a little sore, but he's going to make it through, and there's no need to stress Jared out anymore.
"Guess that drinking problem thing was a little more literal than I'd real-"
Jensen doesn't let him finish talking. He reaches out, grabbing one of Jared's hands, and squeezes it, surprising Jared into looking down to meet Jensen's eyes. "Why do you put up with me?"
Jared's expression changes in a way Jensen doubts he'll ever be able to read. He doesn't say anything, chooses to fiddle with Jensen's blankets instead. Jensen can't help wondering if that means Jared doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to share it.
_______________________________________________________________
It's nearly a month before Jensen even begins to understand what Jared might possibly want him around for.
He doesn't spy on Jared intentionally; the idea never even occurs to him. Jensen awakens in the middle of the night-the clock on his nightstand reads 3:38 a.m.-and finds that he is craving water. This is not unusual. Eight hours of sleep is a long time to be dry; the Engelons sleep in two hour blocks every three days. Humans need sleep much more often, and Jensen indulges, much like with food, simply because it makes him feel better.
He dreams at night of things that don't connect. Usually Jared is there, or his brethren, or on one notable occasion, Jared in Engelon form. He wakes up feeling rested and finds that this allows him to think more clearly and creatively in the days that come, unlike the mindset that Engelon sleep cycles produce: a mechanical devotion to accomplishing tasks without giving anything more thought than is required on the most basic level.
This is one of the nights when Jensen's fundamental Engelon needs kick in, overriding his desire to dream, and at 3:39 a.m., he grabs his glass and his empty pitcher and begins to walk toward the kitchen to refill them both.
He hears something, though, while the sink is running, that makes him pause and look around at first.
The sound is chilling. Jensen doesn't know why, but it instinctively sends a shiver through him. He turns off the faucet and walks back down the hallway empty-handed, his bare feet nearly soundless on the tile floor. Whatever the noise is, it gets louder as he approaches Jared's room. By the time he's halfway through the hallway, just passing the bathroom, he can hear the timber of the voice that's making it, and he recognizes that it's Jared's.
The light is off in Jared's room, but the door is just the slightest bit open, an offer for Sadie to come and go as she wishes in the night. Jensen draws close to the crack of it now, looking in so he can match Jared's body language with the sound he's releasing in an attempt to make sense of it.
Jared is sitting up in his bed, his elbows propped on his folded knees and his face hidden in his hands. Jensen can see Jared's big shoulders shaking as he makes the sounds, and Jensen doesn't know how he knows, but whatever Jared is doing, it's bad. It sounds like it's hurting him.
Jensen wants to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. So he quietly slips back to his room and hopes this is a dream he'll forget when he wakes up tomorrow, or at least that he will be able to pretend that's the case.
It happens again three nights later. And the night after that. Admittedly, Jensen checks now. He wakes up thirsty and uses that as his cue to look in on Jared. Not that he's helping. Not that he does any good. But he's trying so hard to learn how.
He doesn't come to satisfy his curiosity or to learn something new about humans. He wants to understand it, sure, but not in an academic sense. He just wants to know Jared better. He wants to know what he can do to help.
It's not until the sixth time he hears it that he finally connects the meaning and what it might have to do with Jared's kindness toward him. They're watching TV and a woman starts making the sound, almost identical to the way Jared does it. Jensen takes it as a perfect chance to ask Jared to explain without revealing what he's learned.
"What is she doing?" he asks Jared, pointing to the screen.
Jared laughs, throwing a handful of popcorn at him. "What does it look like she's doing? She's crying."
"Why is she crying?"
Jared turns to look at him, his eyebrows drawing together. "Dude, have you been paying attention at all? Her husband just went off to war. You suck at watching movies."
It's true that Jensen does suck at this. He watches these things-movies and television-on the screen in Jared's living room for a while every night, but only because it's what Jared likes to do. He has trouble focusing on the stories (they aren't real, they aren't instructional, none of the people are familiar-Jensen doesn't know why he should care), so his mind wanders to more practical matters, like how many gallons of water there are in a river and whether or not Jared will make breakfast the next morning. When he does pay attention, it's even worse. He has to ask Jared to explain almost everything, and he knows it seems like he's an idiot, but nothing these creatures do makes any sense to him.
He stares at the screen now, feeling a line of concentration build between his eyes, and fights against all his instincts, trying to put himself in the woman's place and connect with what she is doing.
"So she's sad?" Jensen asks. "She cries because she's sad."
"Yes," Jared says, giving Jensen another strange look. "That's why most of us do it, right?"
He shrugs. "I don't cry. Do you?"
Jared swallows hard and turns his attention back to the screen. "Everyone does at some point or another."
"She's sad because her husband left her," Jensen says when he catches on that Jared's not going to volunteer more information. "Because she's alone now."
"Alone," Jared agrees, his expression dimming. "She's just lonely."
Jensen knows from the way Jared's voice drops that he's gotten his answer. Jared is lonely. He looks back to the woman on the screen, though she's not crying anymore. Her children have just arrived and she's smiling, pretending to be happy. She's convincing them, and suddenly Jensen feels very foolish indeed. Jared's smiles convinced him, too.
He wonders now, as he turns his attention to the human beside him, who left Jared alone. Did they have a war to go to, as well? Did they know how much Jared would miss them, that he would spend every night crying for them?
It hurts, too, to realize that Jared wants company, that that's why he's allowed Jensen to stay and be a burden on him for so long. It's not about Jensen at all. Jared doesn't want to be alone, and Jensen is better than no one.
Jensen can't put a name to the way this makes him feel, but it's so horrible that for a brief few moments, as the emotion wells up inside of him and tries to push him open from the inside out, he wants nothing more than to leave this planet and return to his kin. Intellectually, he is aware of how unreasonable it is to be hurt. He should be glad someone left Jared with a void that needed filling and that he arrived in time to fill it. It's the only reason he's still alive and well taken care of, and whether Jared truly cares about him or not is immaterial. At the end of the day, he's still getting what he needs from the human.
But if Jensen could turn off his emotions that easily, he would still be up on that ship, preparing to wipe Jared and every other human right off their planet. He's always been broken like this, as hard to comprehend as the humans in the movies Jared is so fond of.
That night, he dreams of ways to make Jared smile for real, of things he can do to make Jared less lonely, so his friend will want him specifically. He dreams that he can be something to Jared, something that makes him stop crying.
He wakes up with a new sense of purpose, long before the sun or Jared rises, and immediately gets to work.
ON TO PART TWO
or
BACK TO MASTERPOST
The first thing he notices when he awakens is the pure smell of water nearby. He turns his head to the left, finding that he feels no pain, and sees a cup resting on a small table with a larger pitcher, also full of water, next to it.
He thinks this may be a very kind hallucination. He takes the glass first, emptying it in moments and letting it drop to the floor, paying little attention to the sound of glass shattering as he seizes the pitcher instead. That keeps him busy a little while longer. It takes him about half a minute to drain the container dry.
"Wow," he hears from somewhere nearby. It comes from his right, opposite of where the water is, so of course he didn't think to look there.
His mental databanks have been programmed to translate all of the languages used by the speaking creatures on this planet. From what he can tell, 'wow' is a statement of shock or awe, not terribly meaningful without context. He has no previous contact with this species to judge what the cause for shock or awe might be in this moment.
He turns to look at the human; that is what they call themselves, humans. Beautiful creatures, and this one is no exception. It's a male, taller than average, with pigmentation ranking at about .74 on the spectrum of his species, according to the system of analysis the Engelons categorize them by. It is smiling. "Awfully thirsty for someone who nearly swallowed a river."
Thirsty. According to the translation his databanks procure, the correct response to the observation that he is 'thirsty' would be 'no shit,' but he decides to focus on the more fascinating issue at hand. River. That must have been what saved him. The cool slip of running water, appearing from nowhere, cut right into the land.
When his brethren dropped him onto this planet, leaving him to die from lack of water, they must have never imagined a thing as glorious as a river could possibly exist. He certainly never would have. He was halfway to dying of starvation when he found the damn thing, and he'd still been so mesmerized he had hovered on the edge of it for a few precious moments, wondering if it was a trick. But he was in too much agony to really question it. If it was a trap, he would die just the same as if it wasn't.
So he took the chance, crawled in and let himself shut down, still in too much distress to function correctly. He trusted his body to recover once he was immersed, so he blacked out and, judging by the fact that he's not dead, the water did its work.
How it led to him waking up inside of some human's house, propped up in what seems to be a very large version of a sleep capsule-a bed, his translator supplies, they call them beds-he does not know. "How did I get here?"
"I found you floating face down in the river about a third of a mile down," the human says, pointing as if that's going to supply any useful information. "I thought you'd drowned."
Drowned. He hears the word unfiltered in the human's native tongue. He searches through his databanks again, but he knows it's in vain. There's no translation available for the word 'drowned.'
"What is drowned?"
The man seems to be angered by the question. "C'mon, are you fucking with me? You know damn well what drowned means."
He shakes his head, so the human tries to explain, "When you get caught in water and go under and there's no air to breathe."
They have so much water here they can be swallowed up by it. This really is a paradise. "Drowned is a good thing?" he asks, just to clarify, because the man had sounded worried.
"Not really." The human laughs softly and shakes his head as if in disbelief. "You die if you can't get oxygen."
"But there's water?"
"Yes, there's lots of water."
He nods. "I think I would like to drown."
The man frowns, his eyes flashing strangely as he takes steps closer to the bed. "I was worried that might be how you got in there." He pauses for a long time. "Well, if you decide to try again, would you mind not using my river? Not a big fan of fishing bodies out. And it was so stressful trying to save you the first time, I just don't think I could handle it again."
Yes, he had wondered about that. "Why did you pull me out?"
The human's face changes then to an expression he can hardly identify. Is it sadness? Compassion? He'd observed these faces on screens, but the effect is much more powerful up close. "Why don't you want to be saved?"
"I'm not worth the effort you expended," he reasons, which is true. He's never once in his life pulled his weight, and the man might have lost time and precious hydrogen with the effort of pulling his body out and bringing him here and keeping him alive. "It was a waste of your potential."
"What's your name?" he asks.
The question is both unrelated to the topic at hand and foreign. Names are for weak species, for creatures that form attachments. The Engelons have no names; they are all cogs on a bigger machine. Faceless, impersonal limbs belonging to a better body than they could ever hope to achieve alone. But the man does not know this, and he's expecting an answer.
They did have a word for him, or maybe it was more of a curse. It meant broken, defective, unproductive. "Jensen."
The man must not know anything at all. He smiles kindly and says, "That's a nice name," and Jensen clearly deserved the insult as much as they always told him he did, because that smile makes him proud to have a name.
"I'm Jared." Jared takes another step and grabs Jensen's hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. You've been here for two days. I thought for a while-" Jensen watches Jared's throat work as he swallows. "I thought you might not wake up."
"I'm awake now. And I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you."
Jared bites his bottom lip and nods. "Do you have family I can call? I didn't want to get anyone else involved in case you-I was studying medicine for a while and you seemed like you just needed a little R&R, so I thought it might be better in the end if I waited to talk to you before sending you off."
Jensen shakes his head. The thought of leaving presents a dull ache of disappointment. He has studied these creatures for so long that finally being able to act out all the rituals of their language feels like a rare gift in Jensen's life. He never actually expected to meet a human, though he quietly dreamed of what it might be like.
He laughs, though the sound comes out rather cruel, as he realizes he has his brethren to thank for making this wish come true. They’d meant for him to die, die in agony, because of his fascination for these creatures. Now he has gotten to speak with one instead. "My family will not want to hear from me," he says. "They cast me out. I'll just return to the river."
"Don't do that," Jared says, his voice much softer than it has been since they first began speaking. "Jensen, you've got a home here as long as you promise it'll keep you out of rivers."
Jensen can't blame the man for not wanting to let a stranger live off his water. He would probably not be any more generous if he owned such a thing. Still, he finds the chance to stay with a human for any period of time a very thrilling consolation prize. And the man has already proven willing to share some of his water, though perhaps the pitcher on the table was not for Jensen after all.
“I…will accept. Thank you,” Jensen says, wondering if the offer had been genuine. These creatures tell things called jokes. Jensen is only now realizing he may have just failed to detect one. “If you really mean it?”
Jensen’s human steps closer to the bed with a small smile at the turn of his lips. He reaches out, stroking a large hand over Jensen’s forehead and into his hair. “You’re still a little clammy,” he says. “You oughta get some more rest.”
_______________________________________________________________
Jensen-as he now thinks of himself-has been studying Jared's species for months. It was a punishment, actually, but a poor one. Humanity was the only job Jensen ever got that he could make himself care about.
He has never taken pleasure in planning wars, though he was not stupid enough to admit why. Not out loud. The others probably guessed it. He didn't thrill in the thought of bringing pain to other creatures, not even the ones that stood between the Engelons and a big, blue planet. Engineering never held much interest, either, though he was serviceable enough with machinery, at least until he got distracted. Even the ship's stores of water failed to spark Jensen's interest-it was always enough for his ration to come at the appointed times. He never paused to wonder where it came from or how much of it was stashed on the ship or how much time they had before it would run out. Not enough, judging from how quickly the others threw him off once he was formally judged unworthy of the water it took to sustain him.
Jensen doesn't blame them, not really. He knows his failings. He has, and has always had, a curious habit of stopping sometimes just to think. Just to imagine. Not practical things, like where his next drink would come from. Jensen would question whether the water they feasted on was alive, if it could feel like he could.
It was not until they put him to studying humans that he found other creatures who shared this particular trait. Daydreaming, that is their word for it. A very nice word, in Jensen’s opinion. Another thing he never said out loud.
“Look who’s finally up and about.” Jared comes in wearing a gray shirt, covered in wet stains, and his hair is dripping, too. It makes Jensen very thirsty just to look at the man.
He smiles at Jensen as he pulls a towel off the back of one of the chairs arranged around the table and rubs it over his face. Jensen has been bed-ridden for the entire day since he first woke up, his strange, bulky human legs unwilling to cooperate when he tried to tell them to walk. Tentacles were so much more practical, and Jensen wishes, not for the first time, that it were easier to convince himself to slip back into what should be his natural form.
Today is his first time upright since he drowned, the first time he could convince those stupid sticks humans call limbs to bend and move in places where they are capable of doing so. He only made it as far as the kitchen before he fell into the first seat he could find. It's embarrassing for Jensen to have the human walk in now and catch him trying to teach himself to walk.
"I'm not," Jensen says. "I'm sitting down. It's very nearly the opposite."
Jared laughs, rolling his eyes and tossing the towel on the table in front of Jensen. "Smartass."
Jensen stares at the wet fabric, his stomach beginning to rumble. He can smell the moisture, though he still doesn't know where it came from. Jared has been very kind, bringing Jensen the same pitcher and a similar (though unshattered) glass to drink from every day. He has allowed Jensen to gorge himself on nearly twice what he was rationed on board his mothership, with nothing more than a raised eyebrow when he returns to Jensen's room and finds that the large jug is, once again, empty.
So it's not like he's starving. But Jared just dropped this perfectly good watery towel down in front of him, and Jensen can't help wondering where Jared returned from so wet. "Where were you?"
"Went for a run," Jared says, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle full of a bright orange liquid. Gatorade, the label says. It smells like water, too. Everything on this perfect planet seems to be made of water. "Nice long one, down to the river's edge. No floating bodies this time, which is lucky, cause I only have so many guest rooms to put you guys up in."
Jared grins and watches Jensen like he's waiting for some kind of reaction, but Jensen doesn't know what it should be, so he just sits quietly. The human seems upset by this.
"Not much of a sense of humor," Jared finally says after a long silence.
He frowns. "I can try to do better."
Jared shakes his head. "Aww, c'mon now, don't go all kicked puppy on me. It was a joke. You know, I'm not so good around strangers, either. I get all kinds of awkward. You just need a few days to relax. I've been there."
Jensen is not entirely sure he believes this. Jared seems perfectly comfortable. "You're lying," he says. "To make me feel better. I'm no less a stranger to you than you are to me."
"Nonsense!" Jared replies. "I hung out with you plenty while you were still passed out. Two full days I had nothing to do but talk to you. You should have heard how awkward I was the first day. Kept asking you about the weather. You were polite enough not to make fun of me, though."
Jensen nearly explains to Jared that he could not respond because he was asleep and did not hear what Jared said to him, but then, very suddenly, he laughs instead. That's the joke. Jensen got a joke.
"There you are," Jared says, giving Jensen a light swat on the back. "That's one hell of a smile you've got when you loosen up. I'm looking forward to seeing it more."
Jensen looks away, which makes his eyes land on the towel again, and he remembers what they were talking about. "Why did you go for a run?" he asks. "Was something chasing you?"
Jared makes a sound like the Earth pigs Jensen once studied from his lab. "Oh, yeah. This ferocious beast." He looks down fondly at the brown creature that has been excitedly following at his heels since he walked in the door. "And maybe the jelly doughnuts I let myself have when I went into town last week."
The ferocious beast looks over at Jensen, cocking its head to one side. It watches him for a few seconds, then walks over and presses its face against Jensen's thigh. What a strange greeting. "Hello," Jensen says to it, assuming that it must speak the same language as Jared. "You don't seem very ferocious to me."
"That's my girl, Sadie," Jared tells him. He's grinning and watching as Jensen pats her on the head when Jensen looks up and meets his eyes.
Apparently, humans come in more shapes and sizes than Jensen's research indicated. "She's very attractive," Jensen says.
"She's a good girl," Jared agrees, patting her on her side. "Aren't you a good doggie?"
She turns her face, licking Jensen's hand as a reminder that he's stopped paying attention to her. That's when Jensen gets it-she's a pet. A dog. He heard about dogs but never saw one in any of his case studies. He's relieved, however, that he did not entirely mess up the parameters of what makes a human, well, human.
"But please explain," Jensen presses on. He wants to understand, he really does. "Why did you go outside to run if you were not being threatened?"
"It's good for you?" Jared says, as if it's more a question than an answer. How is Jensen supposed to collect data on Jared's motivations if even Jared does not know? "And fun? I like the view?"
Okay, so humans are not the most productive or logical creatures in the universe. Jensen never intended to argue that they were. But their actions are so irrationally wasteful that they circle back around to being worth protecting. They want to go for a run; they go for a run. Just like that. There's something to learn from that kind of behavior, even if Jensen can't quite pin it down just yet.
"Just because," Jensen supplies.
Jared smiles. He points a finger at Jensen with one hand as the other raises the orange liquid to his mouth to take a long sip. Then he lowers it, wiping the back of his hand over his lips and giving Jensen a concerned look-over. "Hey, are you hungry? I can whip us up some breakfast. I've got, uh," Jared turns back to his refrigerator, opens it and stares inside for a little over a minute. Then he closes it, turns back to Jensen, and continues, "eggs. Eggs are pretty much all I've got as far as breakfast food goes. Well, and cereal. But I think you need something hardier. I make a mean omelet."
According to Jensen's mental scans, an omelet is a way humans cook eggs. How an omelet could be mean, or why Jensen would want such an omelet, is another matter worth looking into. He's only spent about an hour altogether talking to Jared since he woke up, but already his list of possible research topics seems unending. What a species-and this is only one of billions of them.
"I would love a glass of water," Jensen replies when he realizes Jared is waiting for an answer. He hopes he isn't asking for too much, but then, Jared did offer.
"And?"
"And…another glass of water after that?"
Jared laughs. "Man, I don't think I've seen you eat anything since you woke up. You should be dying by now."
"I've had plenty to drink," Jensen reasons.
"This is true," Jared says, tilting his head in concession. "I've seen fish who like water less than you."
Jensen does a quick search for fish and finds that there are animals on this planet who, like the Engelons, thrive in water and die without a constant supply. Good, this is progress. Now he has a word for himself that Jared will understand. "I am what you call a fish, yes."
"Alright, Nemo, fair enough," Jared says. He reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher not unlike the one he's been leaving by Jensen's bedside. Then he gets a cup from one of the small wooden cabinets by the window over his sink and fills it. "Here you go. But you really need to eat something, too. Sometimes, after you've been sick for a while, you're so exhausted you don't realize you're hungry until you start eating. I learned that in school. I think. I don't know. It was a long time ago." Jared stops himself, then shakes his head and gets back on track, looking at Jensen and saying in a stern voice, "My point is, you should be hungry and I am going to make you something. Something delicious."
Jensen shrugs, willing to indulge Jared on this. Sure, he doesn't need food the way humans do, but there's no reason to assume omelets will be any harder to adjust to than the atmosphere on this planet was. Besides, food is very important to humans. All of Jensen's research has pointed to sharing meals as the most common way to fuse connections, and Jensen will never understand humans if he can't understand this ceremony.
"Yes, I will have a mean omelet," Jensen says. "Thank you very much for the offer."
Jared looks relieved out of all measure to hear Jensen agree. "You're not a vegetarian, are you? I mean, it's fine if you are. Just gonna need to rethink how I cook…everything."
He shakes his head. He's not anything that he knows of, so it may or may not be true, but he doesn't want to inconvenience Jared any more than he already has.
Jensen cannot attest to the meanness of the omelet Jared serves him. It does not seem to have very much personality at all, but perhaps it was, like Jared thinks Jensen is, just shy. He makes a note to try to sustain a longer conversation with his next omelet before eating it. What Jensen can definitely confirm about omelets (whether mean or otherwise) is that they are wonderful.
All food, Jensen learns quickly, is rather wonderful.
"See," Jared says, setting down a plate with two things he calls 'sandwiches' on it. "I told you you were hungry."
"I will never doubt you again," Jensen promises. He bites into one of the sandwiches on the plate, which makes this his sixth.
"I'm worried I'm gonna break your heart completely here, but, uh, I should probably let you know that that's the last of the bread I had. And ham. And cheese. So, uh, basically there are no more sandwiches after those."
"No more sandwiches," Jensen asks, looking up and letting the bread droop sadly between his fingers. He would have paced himself if he'd realized how scarce these delicacies were. "Ever?"
Jared laughs. "Just until I go to the market again, you big drama queen. I'll try to head into town tomorrow, alright? You can come with if you think you'll be up for it."
"I don't know if I'll make it," Jensen admits. "My legs don't seem to be very functional."
"Nah, they'll be fine." Jared snatches the other sandwich off the plate and takes one bite before putting it back in front of Jensen. Jensen pouts just the slightest bit as he watches Jared chew and swallow a piece of his delicious sandwich. "Just need to get your bearings back. I think some exercise will do you good. Wanna come on my run tomorrow? Or walk, I guess, you're probably not ready for a run. But I can give you a nice tour of the ranch and help toughen your muscles." Jared laughs. "Besides, when was the last time you saw the sun? You're so pale you're almost see-through."
Jensen decides not to point out that just a few days ago he was completely translucent. And covered in much more user-friendly limbs than the sorry excuses Jared seems so eager to run around on.
Then again, he chose this body. Not on purpose, but in his own way. He'd been as shocked as the rest of the collective when he'd rolled out of his sleep capsule and landed on legs rather than tentacles. He tried to tell that to his fellow Engelons, but they weren't interested in his excuses.
Anyway, no amount of explaining could hide what Jensen's new form meant. Engelons don't shift at will. They consist predominantly of mental processes, and those processes are what hold their physical matter together. Their bodies reflect what their minds perceive as the correct shape for them, and Jensen's mind had confused his own form with that of the humans. His brethren took it as a sign that Jensen felt more loyalty toward humankind than Engelonkind, and they were not wrong. He didn't mean to take a side, but it's not something he could flip a switch on once he had.
And it wasn't like his track record did him any favors. He'd spent nearly a month trying to convince the collective that they should approach humans peacefully, explain their need for water and try to offer technology as a way to balance out a trade. Peaceful relations, a way for everyone to get what they wanted without destroying the fascinating animals that have already built so much on the Earth's surface. Jensen was never exactly what one would call popular, but after making this argument publicly, he became even more scorned than before.
So they already hated him, but it was not until he woke up in this human body that they finally accepted just how flawed he was. It was not sentiment that allowed Jensen to live amongst them as long as he did, but the communal shame he caused. An infected limb like him on the Engelon body reflected poorly on all of them. They tried every possible cure before amputation.
He looks at Jared's eager expression, apparently genuinely wanting nothing more than for Jensen to go on a walk with him, and he doesn't really miss belonging to the Engelon body. Now he has his own body, one that reflects what he thinks and feels, even if it is a little unwieldy. One that can do things like go for a walk-just because.
So he nods to accept Jared's offer and vows to spend the whole night pacing back and forth in his room if that's what it takes to learn how to move his new legs in the way that comes so naturally to his host.
_______________________________________________________________
"You sure you're feeling alright?" Jared stops on the path, turning and putting a hand on Jensen's shoulder to steady him.
"I'm fine," Jensen tells him, for the millionth time (that is a human expression Jared taught him-Jensen has not really said it that many times). He gives Jared a smile he hopes is convincing. "Just a little wobbly on my land legs."
Jared grins. "You look like a calf. We used to have cows, you know. Whole herds of 'em. Back when the ranch was a real ranch and shit actually grew on the farmland."
Jared sighs, looking out at the large patch of green ahead of him. From what he's told Jensen, this all belongs to him. The idea that any creature can own things for himself, let alone big things he can't hold, like farms and rivers, is not one Jensen has managed to completely wrap his head around just yet.
For an Engelon, just wanting to be his own creation, to think and feel things that were not shared by every member of the collective, was indulgence enough. Even with all the transgressions he thrilled in before they finally threw him away, Jensen would never have dared to think that he could own something and keep it all to himself. Now he has a name, and that's all his; it seems big until he puts it next to everything that's Jared's.
The human shakes his head, looking away from all his property and giving Jensen a wary smile. It does not bring automatic happiness, owning things, not in the way Jensen would have assumed. That's easy enough to tell from the disappointed glaze over Jared's expression. "Anyway, the point is, I saw a lot of calves born, and they all waddled along just like that when they took their first steps."
Jared is teasing, Jensen knows, from the way his voice rises and falls and from the fact that Jared always seems to be teasing someone-if not Jensen then himself or, on rarer occasion, Sadie. He moves quickly then, wrapping an arm around Jensen's middle and picking him up a few feet off the ground. "Need me to carry you?"
Jensen slaps at his arms and Jared drops him, though not so quickly that he doesn't make sure Jensen has good footing once he touches the ground. "You're annoying. You know that?"
"Everyone says so," Jared replies. He gives Jensen an encouraging shove in the side, moving him farther along the path. "Come on. You think you can make it another fifteen minutes? I'll show you my favorite place."
When they reach it, Jared's 'favorite place' doesn't look all that different than many of the other spots they've passed since leaving Jared's house. It's an empty field with the same whitewashed wooden fence around it that has been hovering at the edge of the path all day. There's a huge oak tree blocking out the sun, which does make for a better, cooler temperature, Jensen will admit, though he doesn't think it is in any way more significant than the other trees.
There is one strange thing about it. Dangling from one of the branches is a long, thick rope and tied to the end of that rope, a big black tire, like the ones that serve as legs for the shuttles humans use to transport themselves.
Jared walks up to the wheel and sits in the middle. It doesn't look all that comfortable. "This is where my brother and sister and I used to play when we were little. It was like a magical world back then, I swear. We'd have so much fun." He rises to his feet and pushes the tire. It swings out about three feet and then back toward Jared. "It's still a good place to come and clear my mind. Always quiet. Never used to be back then, but it's not bad."
He smiles at Jensen in a way that makes even Jensen aware that he should not ask what happened to make it so quiet. "You can come here, too, if you ever need to think about anything. If you want a little privacy."
Jensen returns the smile, taking a few steps into the field rather than hanging back by the fence where he had been. He stops about an arm's length from Jared and wraps his hand around the rope just above the rubber tire. "I've never had somewhere to go just to think before," he says. "I will like it here, too."
"Beats the hell out of the river at least," Jared says, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think about that anymore."
"I won't," Jensen promises, not sure what he's promising, really.
He thought at first that Jared just didn't want to share, but now he's not so sure. There's some greater significance for Jared in Jensen's wanting to go to the river. For Jensen it's a beautiful place, it's the impossible thing that appeared out of nowhere, saved his life, then carried him here so he could meet Jared. For Jared it's just the opposite. He seems more afraid for Jensen's sake than greedy whenever he talks about the river.
Logical or not, it's not so much to ask, for all his help, that Jensen not return to the water Jared pulled him from.
He decides to inspect the tree, walking a circle around the large trunk. The bark is rough to the touch, and Jensen finds it terrifyingly real. Everything was smooth and carefully assembled aboard his mothership. This world is bounteous, it's true, but that doesn't mean it's safe. The edges under his fingers could hurt someone. Jensen just can't decide if the thought thrills him or makes him long for home.
"What do you think?"
Jensen pulls his hand away from the tree, his head snapping up. He'd almost forgotten Jared was here, but now the human is standing directly in front of him, watching him with an air of expectation.
"I think maybe I like it," he says.
Jared's expression changes to a soft smile, and he reaches out, his hand resting on Jensen's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it yet?"
Jensen feels his face pull together, the way his muscles always tense when he is confused in this body. "About what?"
"Whatever made you go to the river. You don't have to tell me if you don't want," Jared continues, leaning against the bumpy oak as if it doesn't even scare him. As if it's natural, though Jensen supposes it is in his world. "But if you do need to talk-I've been there. I really have. I know how important it is just to have someone to listen." He laughs, scratching the back of his neck and then dropping his hand uncomfortably. "There was no one like that for me. I think it would have made a lot of difference."
He gives Jensen another pat and then turns away, and Jensen can still feel the warm spot on his shoulder where Jared's hand had been. He stares as Jared walks away from him, until he reaches the entrance to the field and looks back at Jensen. "Come on, then," he says, waving Jensen over. "Let's go home. You can have first shower."
"First shower?" Jensen asks.
Jared grins. "Yeah, I bet you're dying for one."
Jensen doesn't know how to tell Jared that the term 'shower' is unfamiliar to him, so he walks silently until they reach the house and Jared leads him to the bathroom. Then he turns a knob and something downright miraculous happens: water begins to fall from the sky.
"Holy shit," Jensen says, watching with wide eyes as the shower continues. "Yes, I definitely really need a shower. I forgot. Just how much I like showers."
Jared smiles, sticking one hand under the spray quickly, then shaking it off. Jensen realizes he probably sounds like an idiot, but he's a little too in awe to think clearly, and Jared doesn't call him out. "Temperature's good. There aren't any tricks to getting this one to work. Hold on, let me just grab you a towel."
He returns about half a minute later and gives Jensen a dark green towel, then leaves saying something about letting Jensen undress. Jensen spends the next three hours in the shower, and the water never runs out.
_______________________________________________________________
He joins Jared for a walk every day after that, and it helps Jensen recover his strength. So has food. Within his first few days as Jared's guest, he learns that although these things are not requirements for his species, they bring him many of the same benefits that they give to humans.
Exercise, for example, leaves a burn in Jensen's muscles for only a fraction of the time that not using his new legs frequently did, with the added bonus that he has increased his ability to control them. It does not come close to the dexterity he had with his tentacles, of course, but he has finally realized that this is to be expected. Jared can only control specific points in his limbs (joints, he calls them), too, and he's been using them his whole life. That's good enough for Jensen, even if the body will always be a little too stiff next to the memory of his languid Engelon appendages.
And food-well, okay. Jensen's not entirely sure food has done anything for him except for taste good. But the things Jared cooks…they just taste really, really good. Jensen looks forward to their meals all day, not because of the water he's served with them but because of the pleasure he derives from the act of sitting down to eat with Jared. It's the only time Jensen can count on Jared's company, those three meals a day. Not that Jared is hard to get a hold of the rest of the time, but he has his own things he does, and he lets Jensen have his privacy. When they eat, though, there's no pretense to privacy or separation. It's the first human ritual Jensen really, truly feels he understands the significance of.
He maybe gets a little thrill, as well, from the dirty thought of just how much time he wastes eating and walking and talking to Jared. What bounty, to be so idle. Jensen has discovered strengths and abilities he never would have as an Engelon, because they never would have taken the time to try out a new routine just to see if there might be benefits. Jensen sees it as a great big fuck you (another phrase he learned from Jared) to his collective every time he sits down at the table.
The truth is: Jensen is happy here. He likes Jared, and he likes Earth. There's more water than he could ever drink and more kindness than he could ever hope to comprehend. He still doesn't understand why Jared allows him to linger when he has contributed nothing and has, in fact, slowed many of Jared's routines. Jared now has to cook twice as much, walk rather than run in the mornings, and work around an added body in his space, but he makes all these adjustments like Jensen's doing him a favor just by being there to enjoy them.
Tonight, Jared is singing (Jensen is no expert, but it is bad singing) along to the radio and shaking his hips in a way he calls dancing (Jensen also has suspicions about whether Jared is as good a dancer as he claims to be, but Jared just puts his hand over his heart and plays dead whenever Jensen brings them up) as he shuffles around the kitchen making dinner.
"How do you feel about seafood?" Jared asks, turning to Jensen and waving whatever he has in his hands. Jensen's stomach turns when he realizes it's three limp tentacles dangling in Jared's grasp. "Kinda gross looking, huh?"
"Extremely," Jensen replies, watching Jared continue to dance with their food. It seems a little morbid, eating something's limbs like that, but then human habits are beyond him. He just hopes they didn't come off a person.
"Hey Jensen, wanna shake my tentacle?" Jared holds one of the limbs out to him, wiggling it along with his eyebrows. Jensen feels himself blush. Humans are very private about their tentacles from what he can tell, and even though he knows Jared's only joking about the food he's preparing, it still makes his face burn red.
To distract himself, Jensen rolls his eyes. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"
"You're no fun." Jared turns back around and takes a big, sharp blade to the tentacles. Just watching makes Jensen ache in sympathy. "Tell me something about you," Jared instructs as he continues to work. "You've been here a couple of weeks now and I feel like the only things I know about you are that you're kinda bitchy and you have a drinking problem."
Jared makes sure to pause what he's doing so that he can stick his tongue out at Jensen, and Jensen puts his newfangled education on human behavior to good use, raising one of his middle fingers for Jared's benefit.
"What do you want to know?"
He watches Jared's big shoulders shrug. Jared has been very careful about asking Jensen to talk about his past, which is lucky for Jensen. It's not like he can share much of his biography. "Anything you don't mind talking about," he answers. "Like, where are you from?"
"Up," Jensen replies, stalling. He tries to remember the country names on the map Jared has posted in his living room, but all he knows is the shape of the continents as he saw them from his mothership. "Um, up north. Very north."
"Canada north?" Jared asks.
Sure, why not. "Yes, Canada. I'm from Canada."
"Canada's pretty big." Jared sets the food on the stovetop to cook and then opens the refrigerator, pulling out a brown bottle and popping off the top. "Anywhere in particular? I used to have an aunt in B.C., just outside of Vancouver. Never got a chance to visit, though."
"What a coincidence," Jensen enthuses, hoping he's coming off as genuinely excited. "I'm from Vancouver."
"Huh," Jared replies, lifting the bottle to his lips, his head tilting back as he drinks.
Jensen's eyes rest on Jared's throat, as they often do when it moves like this, though he's not so sure why he finds it so exhilarating. Something about the action makes Jensen feel flushed, and this time Jared's eyes catch his when he tilts his head back down and swallows, and he gives Jensen a subtle smile, like maybe he knows what's keeping Jensen mesmerized, even as Jensen has no idea.
Jensen coughs and looks away.
"I guess that explains why you're so weird all the time," Jared teases. "What with you being Canadian and all."
"Fuck you," Jensen says, laughing as he shakes his head. "You're a Tex-ass."
"Born and bred!" Jared replies, putting on a thick accent and resting his hands over his belt.
"It wasn't a compliment." Jensen grins, because he knows how proud Jared is of his home state; he has to hear about it all the time. "It means you smell like sweat and digested Mexican food."
Jensen doesn't actually know what those things smell like-his body can only detect the scent of water-but he's picked up a few tricks since he got here, including how to press Jared's buttons.
Jared cracks up at the insult, kicking Jensen under the table. "Did they freeze your heart up in the North Pole, Jenny? It's okay if they did. You can tell me."
"They sure tried." Jensen laughs. Poor Canada, wherever that is, probably deserves better than to be a stand in for his Engelon roots.
"D'you miss it?" Jared asks, his voice softer now, less teasing for once. "Ever plan to go back?"
"No." Jensen thinks of home, his real home, and he'd rather dehydrate. "Never."
Jared changes the subject. "What's your last name?"
Jensen sighs. Having a name, Jensen gets. Having two just seems excessive. He looks around the room and his eyes settle on the stove; he mumbles out the first thing he can think of. "Tentacles."
They seemed like as good a choice as his other options-chair, fridge, pot-for Jensen to identify with. He doesn't realize how stupid the answer is until after he's already said it.
Jared leans forward, making a face like he doesn't buy it, and Jensen thinks he's in for it, but then he gets lucky. "Sorry, didn't hear you. Did you say Ackles?"
"Yes," Jensen lies. "Ackles. That's me."
"Any relation to the radio guy?"
Dammit. Jensen frowns, and, again, Jared jumps in and saves him from fucking up. "Shit, I'm sorry, Jensen. We don't have to talk about your family. Forget it." He looks around and then gives Jensen a too-big, very obviously fake smile. "You want a beer? I'm gonna get you a beer."
Jared does just that, his chair making a scraping sound on the floor as he hurries to his feet. Jensen's not sure what upset Jared, and he feels a little guilty being relieved, but he wasn't going to have any good answers to these questions, and he already got lucky with the tentacle thing.
He sniffs at the bottle Jared sets down in front of him, and Jensen detects some water. Jared has beers all the time, so Jensen figures they must be pretty delicious and takes a long drink. It's not until he's swallowing, when the liquid hits his throat, that he doubles over in pain, spitting out as much as he can.
His whole mouth is on fire, and Jensen feels his body beginning to convulse right there on the dining room floor.
"Jesus Christ!" he hears, then "Jensen!"
Within moments, Jared is kneeling by his side, cupping his face and trying to say something to him. Jensen can't focus on the questions he asks. All he can think or say is, "Water! Water, please."
Jared disappears for a while, and Jensen's mouth is still burning; he keeps gagging up whatever that venom was until he feels Jared holding a cup to his lips. Jensen nearly clamps his mouth shut against any liquid, but he smells the water, much stronger than it was in the beer that caused this reaction, and gulps down greedily.
He feels the cool, pure taste of water spread through him, first his mouth and then down, cleansing out the worst of the pain. He finishes the water and sits up, still coughing. "More, please."
Jared obeys, returning with a whole pitcher. "What the hell, dude?" he asks as he refills Jensen's cup.
Jensen doesn't even try to answer until he's emptied that one as well, and he feels almost like he might not die, but it's a near thing. "That stuff," Jensen says, glaring up at the table. "What was that?"
"It's just a beer," Jared replies, looking from the bottle and back to Jensen's face with a wild expression. "Are you allergic or something?"
"I don't know," Jensen says, his voice scratchy. He tries to soothe his throat by rubbing it, but only the water seems to be working, and even with that to help, Jensen still feels an unbearable ache in all his limbs. "I've never had it before."
"You've never had a beer?" Jared asks, like this is the most ludicrous thing that has ever come out of Jensen's mouth. Jensen finds this hard to believe, considering. "What the hell goes on in Canada?"
"Ugh," Jensen replies, trying to stand by bracing himself on his chair. He slips, though. Jared catches him, holding him up and helping him to his feet.
"Forget it," Jared says. "What do you want to do?"
"Bed," Jensen tells him. His legs feel more useless than ever, hanging as limp as the tentacles Jared chopped up and threw into their dinner. "Ow. Ow."
Jared doesn't laugh at him. He sweeps Jensen up into his arms and carries him slowly to the room Jensen has been staying in, dropping him into bed without ceremony. Jensen crawls up to his pillow, clutching the comforter for dear life.
"I'll bring you more water, okay?" Jared tells him. "Just hold on."
"Gotta clean up," says Jensen, remembering the mess he left on the kitchen floor and feeling ashamed. "Fuck."
Jared pushes him back down into bed. "Don't even think of it, Jensen. I've got it."
Jensen nods because he probably can't make it that far, and just the thought of seeing that brown bottle again makes him feel like he'll die.
His body goes into overdrive before Jared even makes it back with the water. Jensen lets himself shut down, wishing he had a river to fall asleep in. His chances of waking up again would probably improve significantly if he did.
_______________________________________________________________
He does wake up again. There's a warm, wet towel resting on his forehead, and when Jensen manages to get his eyes open, he sees Jared sitting up at his side.
"Jensen." Jared leans closer and looks at him, laughing softly. "Fuck, man. One sip of alcohol and you look like I did after my first high school party."
It's not making any sense to Jensen, and he doesn't really have the energy to ask Jared to explain. Jared takes the towel and wipes it over Jensen's face, wetting his parched skin, and Jensen closes his eyes, making a content sound and leaning into the touch. "My head hurts," he mumbles.
"Some hangover you've got there," Jared replies. "You've been out of it for almost a day and a half."
Jensen's eyes shoot open in shock when he hears that, and Jared laughs again, but it's not a bright sound. Jensen realizes right then how much he likes Jared's usual laugh, now that he's comparing it to whatever that was.
"How could you not tell me-?" Jared stops, takes a deep breath, and starts again. "I'm so glad you're okay. Are you okay? God, you had me worried."
There are dark circles under Jared's eyes, the kind humans get when they go too long without sleeping. And Jared looks worried, even as he's trying to make another joke about Jensen being something called a lightweight.
"I'm fine," he says, because he still feels a little sore, but he's going to make it through, and there's no need to stress Jared out anymore.
"Guess that drinking problem thing was a little more literal than I'd real-"
Jensen doesn't let him finish talking. He reaches out, grabbing one of Jared's hands, and squeezes it, surprising Jared into looking down to meet Jensen's eyes. "Why do you put up with me?"
Jared's expression changes in a way Jensen doubts he'll ever be able to read. He doesn't say anything, chooses to fiddle with Jensen's blankets instead. Jensen can't help wondering if that means Jared doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to share it.
_______________________________________________________________
It's nearly a month before Jensen even begins to understand what Jared might possibly want him around for.
He doesn't spy on Jared intentionally; the idea never even occurs to him. Jensen awakens in the middle of the night-the clock on his nightstand reads 3:38 a.m.-and finds that he is craving water. This is not unusual. Eight hours of sleep is a long time to be dry; the Engelons sleep in two hour blocks every three days. Humans need sleep much more often, and Jensen indulges, much like with food, simply because it makes him feel better.
He dreams at night of things that don't connect. Usually Jared is there, or his brethren, or on one notable occasion, Jared in Engelon form. He wakes up feeling rested and finds that this allows him to think more clearly and creatively in the days that come, unlike the mindset that Engelon sleep cycles produce: a mechanical devotion to accomplishing tasks without giving anything more thought than is required on the most basic level.
This is one of the nights when Jensen's fundamental Engelon needs kick in, overriding his desire to dream, and at 3:39 a.m., he grabs his glass and his empty pitcher and begins to walk toward the kitchen to refill them both.
He hears something, though, while the sink is running, that makes him pause and look around at first.
The sound is chilling. Jensen doesn't know why, but it instinctively sends a shiver through him. He turns off the faucet and walks back down the hallway empty-handed, his bare feet nearly soundless on the tile floor. Whatever the noise is, it gets louder as he approaches Jared's room. By the time he's halfway through the hallway, just passing the bathroom, he can hear the timber of the voice that's making it, and he recognizes that it's Jared's.
The light is off in Jared's room, but the door is just the slightest bit open, an offer for Sadie to come and go as she wishes in the night. Jensen draws close to the crack of it now, looking in so he can match Jared's body language with the sound he's releasing in an attempt to make sense of it.
Jared is sitting up in his bed, his elbows propped on his folded knees and his face hidden in his hands. Jensen can see Jared's big shoulders shaking as he makes the sounds, and Jensen doesn't know how he knows, but whatever Jared is doing, it's bad. It sounds like it's hurting him.
Jensen wants to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. So he quietly slips back to his room and hopes this is a dream he'll forget when he wakes up tomorrow, or at least that he will be able to pretend that's the case.
It happens again three nights later. And the night after that. Admittedly, Jensen checks now. He wakes up thirsty and uses that as his cue to look in on Jared. Not that he's helping. Not that he does any good. But he's trying so hard to learn how.
He doesn't come to satisfy his curiosity or to learn something new about humans. He wants to understand it, sure, but not in an academic sense. He just wants to know Jared better. He wants to know what he can do to help.
It's not until the sixth time he hears it that he finally connects the meaning and what it might have to do with Jared's kindness toward him. They're watching TV and a woman starts making the sound, almost identical to the way Jared does it. Jensen takes it as a perfect chance to ask Jared to explain without revealing what he's learned.
"What is she doing?" he asks Jared, pointing to the screen.
Jared laughs, throwing a handful of popcorn at him. "What does it look like she's doing? She's crying."
"Why is she crying?"
Jared turns to look at him, his eyebrows drawing together. "Dude, have you been paying attention at all? Her husband just went off to war. You suck at watching movies."
It's true that Jensen does suck at this. He watches these things-movies and television-on the screen in Jared's living room for a while every night, but only because it's what Jared likes to do. He has trouble focusing on the stories (they aren't real, they aren't instructional, none of the people are familiar-Jensen doesn't know why he should care), so his mind wanders to more practical matters, like how many gallons of water there are in a river and whether or not Jared will make breakfast the next morning. When he does pay attention, it's even worse. He has to ask Jared to explain almost everything, and he knows it seems like he's an idiot, but nothing these creatures do makes any sense to him.
He stares at the screen now, feeling a line of concentration build between his eyes, and fights against all his instincts, trying to put himself in the woman's place and connect with what she is doing.
"So she's sad?" Jensen asks. "She cries because she's sad."
"Yes," Jared says, giving Jensen another strange look. "That's why most of us do it, right?"
He shrugs. "I don't cry. Do you?"
Jared swallows hard and turns his attention back to the screen. "Everyone does at some point or another."
"She's sad because her husband left her," Jensen says when he catches on that Jared's not going to volunteer more information. "Because she's alone now."
"Alone," Jared agrees, his expression dimming. "She's just lonely."
Jensen knows from the way Jared's voice drops that he's gotten his answer. Jared is lonely. He looks back to the woman on the screen, though she's not crying anymore. Her children have just arrived and she's smiling, pretending to be happy. She's convincing them, and suddenly Jensen feels very foolish indeed. Jared's smiles convinced him, too.
He wonders now, as he turns his attention to the human beside him, who left Jared alone. Did they have a war to go to, as well? Did they know how much Jared would miss them, that he would spend every night crying for them?
It hurts, too, to realize that Jared wants company, that that's why he's allowed Jensen to stay and be a burden on him for so long. It's not about Jensen at all. Jared doesn't want to be alone, and Jensen is better than no one.
Jensen can't put a name to the way this makes him feel, but it's so horrible that for a brief few moments, as the emotion wells up inside of him and tries to push him open from the inside out, he wants nothing more than to leave this planet and return to his kin. Intellectually, he is aware of how unreasonable it is to be hurt. He should be glad someone left Jared with a void that needed filling and that he arrived in time to fill it. It's the only reason he's still alive and well taken care of, and whether Jared truly cares about him or not is immaterial. At the end of the day, he's still getting what he needs from the human.
But if Jensen could turn off his emotions that easily, he would still be up on that ship, preparing to wipe Jared and every other human right off their planet. He's always been broken like this, as hard to comprehend as the humans in the movies Jared is so fond of.
That night, he dreams of ways to make Jared smile for real, of things he can do to make Jared less lonely, so his friend will want him specifically. He dreams that he can be something to Jared, something that makes him stop crying.
He wakes up with a new sense of purpose, long before the sun or Jared rises, and immediately gets to work.
ON TO PART TWO
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