Real Person Fic - CW: Off the Menu [Part 2/3]
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PART TWO
Between the rush of orders, people asking questions, light and sound assaulting him from every direction, Jensen doesn't know when Jared came in.
He doesn't know Jared is there at all, but Jared is there, crowding around him, hiding him from the stares of a restaurant full of unsatisfied customers and demanding employees. Jensen is sitting on the floor next to a tray of overturned food, because he dropped it like the fuck up he is.
In his head, he's looking at every item, mentally adding up how much he's cost them with this slip. Them. He covers his face, too much air coming at him as he gasps, and he can feel tears about to sting at his eyes. There's no them anymore. There's no Dad to be disappointed in him. There's no Mom to shush him and tell him that it's okay, accidents happen.
There's only Jensen. Hardly 18 years old and everything's on him now. Everyone is depending on him to keep this place afloat, and he can't even walk between the kitchen and the tables without spilling $30 worth of product all over the floor. $35 once he factors in the paid time it'll take someone to clean it.
"Shh," a voice says to him. A big hand rests on his shoulder and begins to rub him soothingly. "Shh, hey. It's okay. Jensen, it's okay."
It's not.
Six days ago, Jensen finished high school.
Four days and five nights ago, his parents were coming to get him, pick his drunk ass up from a graduation party. They never got there. Someone else decided to drive home instead of waiting for a ride, and the next time Jensen saw them, it was to ID the bodies.
Three days ago, he called the local college, let them know he wouldn't be coming to take those business classes after all, because, very suddenly, he owns a business and he'll just have to learn to run it on his own.
17 hours ago, Jensen put his parents in the ground.
Today, he opened, because one more day without bringing in profit, the most recent shipment of food all gone expired without nearly enough sales to cover it…
Jensen can't let the damn diner fail. His whole life, his father promised this to him. His whole life, he watched his parents scrounge and save to keep Baby's open, so that they could leave it to Jensen one day. It wasn't supposed to be today.
If he loses the diner, he's got nothing. He'll have gotten them killed and shut down their dream all in the same week.
"Jensen," he hears that voice again, and it's so close to him. "Come back to me."
He blinks his eyes a few times, chokes away the tears before they can start falling, and he sees Jared's face, worry and concern all over it. This is wrong, too. Jared isn't supposed to comfort Jensen. Jensen is supposed to look after him.
"Jensen, hey. You're okay. It's alright." Jared's hand slips down from his shoulder and presses against his heart instead, holding him up against the wall. "Take a deep breath and look at me."
After a few seconds more of panic, Jensen forces himself to do as instructed, thinks of nothing but the air coming in and slowly letting it out.
"Good." Jared smiles encouragingly. "That's real good, Jen. Why don't you do it again, huh? Just one more time."
He nods as he inhales, holds it, exhales. Tries not to think. Finally he feels like he has himself enough under control to ask, "Is everybody staring at me?"
Jared doesn't even look to check before he shakes his head. "Don't you worry what they're doing. Stay with me. Just with me."
Jensen reaches up, grips Jared's wrist, and gives it a squeeze.
"Okay. We're gonna go outside. C'mon, stand up." Jensen lets Jared pull him to his feet and doesn't protest when Jared unhooks the ring of keys on his belt as he guides Jensen out the door and down the stairs.
It doesn't surprise him that Jared immediately gets to unlocking the Impala, but it does make him smile a little. First time in five days he's let himself.
They sit inside for what feels like an eternity, completely quiet except that Jensen's brain won't shut up. He keeps trying to see into the restaurant, to make sure that everything is running right. Jared just huffs a laugh when he does it, which makes Jensen check himself.
Finally, Jared says, "No one expects you to be okay right now, Jensen. No one expects you to be perfect at this."
"My dad would have," he responds, looking down at his hands. "When grandpa died, he only had to close for one day. Things were back on track in-"
"How old was he?" Jared asks. "How long had his dad been sick? I know…I know there's no preparing for things like that, not completely anyway. But he was ready for it. You're hardly more than a kid and no one saw this coming. You're allowed to make a few mistakes."
"Every day since I was younger than you are, he was training me so that when this happened, I wouldn't let him down."
"How have you let him down? By dropping a tray?"
Jared takes one of Jensen's hands in his own, and Jensen realizes with a little bit of awe that Jared's fingers nearly engulf his. He knew the kid's been shooting up for the last few months, all those scrawny limbs stretching out, but he hadn't quite grasped how much.
"I'm going to," he says, quiet enough that Jared probably can't hear him. So he clears his throat and starts again, forcing his voice not to shake. "I'm gonna fail and everyone knows it. You've seen the way they look at me, like they think they're all gonna be out of a job in a month. Jeff's worked here for 15 years and now he's taking orders from someone he used to babysit. I'm a fucking joke, Jared."
"No," Jared replies, his tone sharp. "You said it yourself. You've been preparing for this for years. It's not gonna be easy, not right away. Some trays are gonna get dropped. Maybe you'll have to earn confidence from your staff. But you are not going to fail."
"You're just saying that," says Jensen. "You don't know the way they've been treating me. Everyone's just waiting for me to go off."
Jared smiles, reaches out to touch Jensen's face. "You think that has anything to do with the way you've been acting?"
"What do you mean?"
He watches Jared try to figure out how to say what he's about to say, until finally, Jared shifts and turns so that he's looking Jensen in the eye.
"You've been pretending you're fine," he says. "That's more worrying than just admitting you're not. You need to deal with this. You need to talk to someone and if...if I can help. I know I'm just some dumb kid to you, but you can talk to me."
Jensen shakes his head. Jared doesn't get it, and why should he? However regretfully young he's had to grow up, at the end of the day, he is a kid. Maybe not a dumb one, and Jensen isn't naïve enough to believe he's a happy one. But there's still some undercurrent of innocence to him, and Jensen doesn't wanna ruin that by talking now, by spilling all the things clouding his mind, like what his mother's body looked like after it had gone through a windshield.
But no one else has asked. Not that he's been alone-he hasn't had a moment alone. No one has given him that earnest, understanding look Jared is and offered to just listen.
He's heard wills being read out, seen to it that everyone got what was left to them, signed a million papers he didn't understand the words printed on. He's spent days sitting with lawyers whose names and faces he forgot as soon as they walked out of the room. One of them slapped him on the shoulder as he left, told Jensen he was lucky this hadn't happened a few months ago; if he'd still been a minor, it would have complicated his rights to the diner and the house. Lucky break.
Lucky Jensen organized a joint funeral, answered a million questions about flower arrangements and caskets and what kind of cheese would be served at the wake. He stood, stoic and unmoved as relatives and family friends cried to him, pouring out every memory they had with his dearly departed. He comforted them.
He sat down and crunched numbers and figured out how much they would need to make this week just to breakeven. Opened the diner, drew up a shift schedule, prepared checks to go out. Went through all the motions.
No time to process what happened. Not a moment to sit and feel his own loss. He hasn't cried. He hasn't even gotten a chance to cry.
And here's Jared, hardly more than a child, newly six-foot-three and skinny bones poking out of a hoodie Jensen leant him a year ago, asking him to let it all out when not a single friend or relative has seen through his bullshit attempt to pass for someone who isn't about a minute from a nervous breakdown.
A part of him, crazy as the thought is, thinks Jared must have grown so much exactly for this moment, so he'd be big enough to catch Jensen. He wants nothing in the world more than to fall into those too-long arms and cry until he's all dried out.
But there's a restaurant not ten feet away from where they're sitting full of people who need their food and their marching orders and it's all on Jensen.
Jared waits for him to talk, and when Jensen stays silent, knowing if he says one word it'll all flood out, he starts talking instead.
"I know your parents didn't like me much," he says, and Jensen begins to move because, yes, okay, this fits. Jensen can tell Jared he's wrong, even though he isn't really, and that's a comfortable part of the routine. He'll help Jared cope with whatever he's going through and keep right on focusing on that instead of-
"Don't," Jared says, turning his body enough to push Jensen down into the leather. "Don't tell me it's not true. Just listen."
He starts again, "What I mean to say is, we weren't close. So…so I know you'll think I'm just saying this to make you feel better, that I wouldn't really know. But I can read people, Jensen. Kind of have to, the way I grew up. You learn to read people. Your parents were good people. And they loved you. They loved you so much that I-" Jared bites his bottom lip and looks down, giving Jensen's hand a soft squeeze. "Didn't really believe people loved their kids like that."
Jensen frowns, and Jared still isn't looking at him as he continues, "You think they'd be ashamed of you? They never could be. You shoulda heard the way your momma talked about you when you were off doing something else, how responsible she thought you were. And your dad-I know he never said it. He would have, if he'd known this was gonna happen, I'd bet my life on it. I saw the way he watched you work. Jensen, he was so proud of you.
"They're always gonna be proud of you, no matter what. What happened to them was terrible. It's not fair that this happened-" Jared looks up, his eyes so much older than his 14 years. He meets Jensen's gaze, and then he reaches out to touch Jensen's cheek. "It wasn't your fault. What happened to them was not your fault. You don't have anything to make up for."
Jensen shakes his head, and Jared pulls him down, so that his face is hidden against the soft material of a sweatshirt that used to be his own, but which is somehow much more familiar now that it's worn out and Jared-scented. There's something tugging at the edge of Jensen's heart that makes him sure, without any logical reason to think so, that there wouldn't be another person in the whole damn world who could make him feel this safe, this accepted.
So he breaks. He's so damn far from the edge of this cliff, and he finally lets gravity do its work. As soon as one sob has ripped its way from him, Jensen is crying against Jared's chest, so loud he can hardly hear the reassuring sounds Jared makes. He wouldn't be able to stop himself if he tried, but he's burnt out on trying anyway.
A knock on the window startles him. Jensen has no idea how long they've been here, it feels like hours, and he realizes whoever this is, they must be pissed. Taking a break is one thing, but the boss disappearing without warning, leaving a mess behind, is another.
"Who is it?" he asks, embarrassed by the fact that his voice is hardly comprehensible.
"Danneel," Jared replies, and Jensen's entire body rocks with the motion as his friend leans over and starts to roll the window down.
"Tell her I'll be right in," he says, wiping at his face to try and get himself under control.
Jared huffs and then he hears Danneel's voice, uncharacteristically gentle, the way it's been for days. She's been trying, Jensen knows, more than anyone else, and he does appreciate that. But Danneel has never been good at comforting, and her attempts at being kind have only served as a reminder.
"Hey," she says. "Is he-?"
"I've got him," Jared assures her, his hand still curled around Jensen's head, shielding him so she can't see that he's been crying. She probably knows, but Jensen is thankful nonetheless. "I'm going to take him home. You guys can handle closing, right?"
Danneel sounds surprised, probably because she knows Jensen wouldn't have agreed to that, but the relief in her voice is palpable. "Yes. Yeah, of course. Of course, it'll be fine, Jensen. We've got everything covered."
He feels some rattling as Jared unhooks the diner keys and hands them to Danneel through the open window, and then he's rolling it back up, closing them in here together again.
Jensen sits up once he's sure she's gone and takes long breaths, the way Jared told him to do earlier. It helps. He feels lighter now that he's cried some, even if there's still a world of shit weighing him down that he desperately does not want to burden Jared with.
Jared just gives him a tiny smile. "Come on."
He opens the door to the Impala and takes Jensen's hand and Jensen follows, hopeful that if he doesn't put up a struggle, Jared won't let go.
Once he's out of the car and in the open evening air, Jensen waits for Jared to drop his hand, but all he does is adjust the hold, so it's comfortable to walk. He leads Jensen a few steps through the parking lot, until Jensen stops him.
"My truck's in the other direction," says Jensen.
Jared shakes his head and pulls. "We're walking."
"I live almost three miles away, Jared. Down a dirt path with no lights, and the sun'll be setting soon."
"You know the way, don't you?" he asks, and Jensen nods. "Good. It'll give us plenty of time to talk."
Another string in Jensen's chest snaps, and it feels like his heart is almost free enough to start pumping again. He wonders if Jared somehow knows that he's frozen up every time he's gotten in his car since it happened, that he sits there for ten minutes before he can force himself to start the engine, and all he sees when he drives are roads painted in blood.
Jared can't know that. It must just be instinct, like how he knows the exact way to touch Jensen and how to pitch his voice so that, for however brief a moment, it seems like maybe things will be okay again.
They make their way to Jensen's house as the sun sinks low in the sky, fingers tangled all the while. Jared talks at first, but eventually Jensen joins in. He doesn't bring up the ugly things, instead finds stupid, random memories of his parents that make them both smile.
"You know there aren't polar bears in Texas, right?"
Jensen snorts. "There are polar bears everywhere! Haven't you ever seen Lost?"
"I can't believe you fell for that," Jared says, walking in a slant so that he bumps into Jensen.
Jensen bumps him back and grins. "I was twelve! No one doubts their parents when they're twelve. He could have told me there were dragons out here and I would have believe him."
In the twilight, Jensen sees Jared's expression dim a little, but his voice is just as cheerful when he responds, "So, how did you find out you'd been duped?"
"Asked my mom if I could have a spear to walk home with to protect me from them." Jensen laughs. "Man, you should have seen my dad's face after she taught him a lesson about having fun at my expense. I bet he wished it had just been a polar bear he'd gone up against."
Jared practically roars, and Jensen watches him crack up for so long that by the time he manages to take his eyes off the kid, they're standing on his stoop. And he realizes Jared's still got his keys.
He holds out his hand for them, expecting Jared to give them over and start on his long walk home, but instead Jared climbs to the door and lets them both in, guiding Jensen along like a lost sheep.
"You need to rest," he says. "I know it's still pretty early. But I think a good night's sleep will help."
Jensen doesn't argue. There's no way he gets sleep tonight, god knows he's been trying. He'll lie there for hours, staring at the posters on his walls and feeling oddly disconnected from his own childhood home until the sun breaks in through the window and he has to get up to open the diner. Same as he has every night this week.
But he lets Jared help him out of his street clothes anyway, until he's standing at the edge of his bed in a loose t shirt and his boxers.
"Thanks," he says, waiting for Jared to go. "For everything. I mean it."
Jared doesn't move so much as a toe toward the door. He takes Jensen's shoulders in his hands and steers him down, until he's sitting on the mattress, and then watches silently as Jensen lies down on his side and pulls the sheets over himself.
"I'll leave the keys on the nightstand," he tells Jensen. "I'll be back at the diner after school tomorrow, so if you need me-"
Suddenly, Jensen seizes forward and grabs Jared's arm. Before the kid can drop his keys and leave. He doesn't even really know what he's doing, just knows he doesn't want to be alone. Not another night alone in this house he could never get any privacy in.
"Stay," he says, voice edging toward begging. "Please, stay. I just..."
I want to be held, he thinks, but he can't say it. It's too much to ask for, except that Jared's face melts, and he whispers, "of course" before crawling in on the other side, wrapping Jensen up in all his warmth.
Jensen does sleep. He sleeps and when he wakes up, he's still lying in Jared's arms, his face creased by the wrinkles on Jared's sweatshirt from sleeping pressed against his chest.
Jared is awake already, and in the back of his head, Jensen is pretty sure the kid should be up by now, getting ready for school. He stays quiet instead of bringing that up, because, selfish as it is, he can't imagine losing Jared right now.
For a few minutes, they just stare at each other, Jensen's breath coming slowly. He's not sure what he's waiting for, but he knows there's something. Then Jared leans down, his lips finding Jensen's.
It's not a hungry kiss. It's not a kiss that means anything but comfort, such a soft pressure against his mouth. Jensen knows he should push Jared away, like the last time Jared tried to kiss him. He can’t make his shaking arms do anything but pull Jared closer, and he hates himself for that. Jensen was supposed to do right by Jared; instead, somewhere along the road, he fell in love with the kid.
When Jared breaks away, he presses another kiss, just as tender, to Jensen's forehead, and that's as far as it goes. Half an hour later, he's on his feet getting dressed.
He smiles at Jensen before he walks out the door, says, "I know it’s not worth much, but I believe in you."
_______________________________________________________________
It's touch-and-go for the first few months, and Jensen finds that he has a lot of learning to do. But he allows himself to ask for help after Jared's intervention and finds that his more experienced staff don't resent having to teach him some of the tricks they've picked up. They even appreciate that he's willing to acknowledge the things they know that he doesn't.
Baby's survives. The diner eventually begins to settle into the new management, and while it's not raking in millions any more than it was before Jensen took over, it's not on the edge of downfall every week, either. He makes enough to keep going, to hold on to the roof over his head, pay his staff, and even-he knows his father's head would spin if he knew-he sets aside enough to take care of Jared, see that the kid gets fed regularly and eats a damn vegetable every now and again.
He takes pride in the way Jared begins to fill out, all those sunken bones gaining muscle that fits much better on his big frame. He's still a little on the lanky side, but Jensen is confident he'll have a healthy build in a few months, if he ever stops growing up and up and up.
Jensen does his best to only think about that for the right reasons, not let himself stare too much at the new ripple of Jared's back under his thin t shirts, or dream of tracing the veins in his arms with his tongue. He's not very good at it. Jared seems to get more beautiful every day.
Right now, he's washing the Impala, because he's the only person in the world aside from Jensen that can do it right. Jared appreciates the importance of the task, instead of seeing it as one more chore to get through before punch-out time.
But he's soaking wet and shirtless just a few feet from the diner window, and Jensen's not really equipped to handle it.
"Earth to Jensen." Jensen stands up from where he was leaning on the counter, shakes his head a bit and blinks a few times. "Come in Jensen."
Jensen reluctantly tears his eyes away from Jared and gives Danneel a smile. "Yeah, what? What is it?"
"You've been standing there with that glazed look on your face for like a full twenty minutes now. Not for nothing, but you're terrible at inspiring productivity in your workers."
"Did you have something you needed, or do you just want to annoy me?"
Danneel frowns, the look on her face crushed. "Oh, Jensen. I thought you knew me better by now. I'm so hurt you'd think I would ever want anything other than to annoy you."
He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Well, you're doing a fine job so far."
"Thanks, boss!" she says, her false sadness giving way to a shit-eating grin. "It's always such a boost to have my work appreciated."
Jensen hears the door jingle as someone comes in, but he resolutely keeps his eyes on Danneel, knowing if he looks to the door, he'll just end up staring at Jared again. One of the waitresses will get the customer.
"I know why you're so distracted," she teases.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, trying not to look like the particular brand of pervert he apparently is. "Why?"
"It's Thursday," she says. "Almost 5:30. Gil the beautiful vegetable delivery man will be here any minute."
Jensen nearly chokes on his relief. He likes Gil well enough. The guy really is gorgeous, and he's sweet, and Jensen has enjoyed what they've gotten up to on the scattered dates they've gone on. Maybe he would be interested in more if it weren't for a certain scrawny teenager who keeps Jensen's heart too locked up for him to really think of anyone else. Instead, he'd forgotten Gil was scheduled to make a delivery at all.
Still, he plays along, ducking his head and shoving at Danneel's side. "Shut up. I'm completely focused."
"Nuh uh, you aren't. You're thinking about your boyfriend."
"He is not my boyfriend," Jensen says, feeling his skin start to burn as Danneel's voice grows louder and bolder.
She turns and announces, "Jensen's nervous about his boyfriend coming today, so no one embarrass him," to the entire kitchen.
"Go do your job!" says Jensen with a laugh.
There's a cough from the counter, and Jensen's laugh gets caught in his throat when he looks up and realizes it's Jared, not a new customer, sitting at the counter. Jared's expression is unreadable, and Jensen cuts his eyes away immediately, feeling like the kid can see right through him.
"Hey, Jared," he says, pretending to wipe at a spot on the counter. "All done cleaning Baby up?"
"Yeah" is all he says, and finally Jensen can't keep his eyes to himself.
When he looks up, Jared's sitting patiently, waiting for Jeff to cook up whatever he's just ordered as payment for helping out. Jensen is already counting down the days until Jared turns 15 and is old enough to actually work, even though it's almost a year away.
"How does she look?"
"Perfect," Jared says. "She always looks perfect." He pauses for a little while and then, as if he can't hold himself back any longer, he demands, "Is it true? Is the delivery guy your boyfriend?"
"I…no," Jensen stutters. "He's just. A guy."
"I've seen him," Jared says, weirdly aggressive. "He's okay. Not that great if you ask me."
"He's really nice," Jensen replies.
Jensen can see Jared biting the inside of his cheek, but finally he says, "Sorry. Not my business, anyway."
He rounds the counter and takes a seat on the stool next to Jared. "You alright?"
Jared nods and smiles at Jeff as he sets a chicken sandwich down in front of him, then immediately takes the top bun off and starts poking at it.
"You better have taken that off because you're planning to put condiments on. You're not getting rid of the tomatoes."
Even though he groans, Jared's mouth turns up in the corner for the first time since he came in. "Aww, come on, Jensen. Don't be like that."
"You're eating your damn vegetables!" he insists.
For a few seconds, Jared looks dutifully annoyed, but then a dark look flashes across his face, and when he smiles and leans in, Jensen knows he's in trouble. "I'll eat the tomatoes if you ditch work and come see a movie with me."
"This isn't math class," Jensen says, raising an eyebrow. "I can't just skip it."
"Sure you can, you're the boss. What's the point of being boss if you never get time off?"
He shakes his head. "Who's gonna sign for the delivery? Or close?"
"Jeff," Jared says. "Danneel. Jeff and Danneel. Danneel and Jeff." He grins, and Jensen feels like his brain is being washed out by the brightness of those big white teeth. "C'mon, Jensen. Come hang out with me. We never hang out."
Jensen hesitates, then looks down at himself. "Nah, look at me, Jared. I'm a mess. I smell like the kitchen. We'll do it some other time."
"I think you look good," says Jared, and even though he knows Jared's just trying to get him to agree, it makes him lose most of his ability to resist. "But we could do the drive-in theatre. It's not far from here. Then no one will smell you except me."
Jensen thinks it over for about half a minute before Jared puts a hand on top of his on the counter, and when Jensen looks up, Jared looks so damn earnest. "Please?"
An hour later, they're across town, stationed at the drive-in theatre in the back of Jensen's pick-up truck, waiting for the sun to set so the movie can start. The one they picked is something about cars-Jensen hasn't seen anything else in the franchise, but Jared had been so excited about it, and, well. Jensen's got a weak spot ten miles wide, there's no use pretending otherwise at this point.
"Gimme the popcorn!" Jared demands, reaching across Jensen as he tries to hold it out somewhere those long arms won't reach.
"You've already eaten like half!" Jensen says, shoving him away with his other hand. "There won't be any left by the time it starts."
Jared laughs and nearly tackles him, climbing over Jensen to get at the popcorn. A year ago, maybe even just a few short months ago, Jensen would have laughed and kept playing along. Now, Jared nearly in his lap has an instant effect on him, and Jensen immediately shoves the popcorn into Jared's hands just to get rid of the hum of arousal.
He hates himself as soon as Jared sits back, looking down at the greasy bag in his hand with a mix of confusion and disappointment. Jensen used to think of Jared as a little brother. He'd always wanted a sibling, desperately, someone to share stupid roughhousing like this with.
Mom had been sick when she was young; the doctors had all told her she'd never have a baby. His parents had nearly given up-they were about to start looking into adoption the day she found out she was pregnant. Jensen had been her miracle. There was never going to be a little brother or sister for him, and then Jared came along, tugging at Jensen's heartstrings from the first, and he'd thought for so long that's what this was.
Seeing Jared's flushed cheeks now and feeling the growing need to touch as it wells up inside of him makes Jensen want to claw his traitorous heart right out of his chest. He knows what this kid's been through. He was supposed to be safe ground for Jared.
Jensen looks away, turning toward the screen and wishing the sun would just set already so they could get distracted by whatever mindless explosions and gratuitous violence this movie will provide.
For a long time, they're both quiet. It's nearly dark when Jared asks, "Do you love him? The delivery guy, do you love him?"
Jensen is surprised by that, both the seeming randomness of the question and the fact that Jared could ever think Jensen loves anyone else. But he deserves to feel safe. If he doesn't know how Jensen feels and Jensen can just keep that part of himself hidden, he can still do Jared some good.
"No, not yet," he says. "But maybe someday."
Jared sounds off when he replies, "You should. He'd be good for you."
Jensen has no clue what the hell to say to that, but mercifully the movie starts. If Jensen spends more time watching the light flicker on Jared's face, the way the kid smiles at every cheap thrill, Jared never has to know.
_______________________________________________________________
Beer in hand, Jensen is just settling down in front of the TV after a long shift when a knock at the door pulls him out of it. He takes a minute to wonder who it is-Jensen's house is pretty far in the middle of what used to be a farm before his grandpa decided he'd rather cook food than grow it and had the diner built on the edge of their land. Visitors don't really drop by unannounced.
Another knock comes, this one more insistent, and Jensen grudgingly gets back onto his sore feet, turns off the television and makes his way across the house.
"Better not be trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner," Jensen mutters as he unlocks the door and swings it open.
Jared is standing on the other side, which is maybe not as surprising as Jensen feels like it is, but he wishes it had occurred to him before he opened up.
He's still wearing the grease-stained wife beater he'd had on under his uniform all day, a beer dangling from his fingertips, and Jensen knows the last few months of work, diner food, and coming home too exhausted to do anything but crash have left him with a bit of a gut. Fuck, he must look like even more of a slob than he usually does when Jared's around.
"Jared, hey," he says. "Um, what's up?"
Jared blinks at him a few times, then sways forward, and Jensen realizes how out of focus his eyes are. His body tenses, and he immediately reaches out, checking Jared for new bruises or open wounds. He's both relieved and surprised when he doesn't find anything, but when he looks up again, Jared's face is more wrecked than he's ever seen it.
Fuck, Jared's usually so intent on keeping Jensen from worrying that he smiles through his busted lip, and now here he is, no apparent reason to be shaken up, and yet he looks like he was just in a blender.
"Jared, are you okay, man? Talk to me."
"Am I okay?" Jared repeats, letting out a little laugh as he says it. "What do you think the threshold is for that? Like, how does one determine if they're okay or not? We never think about things like that, do we?"
A scent wafts over Jensen as Jared rambles on, and he can't help if he feels a little like a disappointed dad when he asks, "Is that tequila? Jesus, Jared, are you drunk?"
"Had to come here," he says, grinning. "Had to leave because if he finds out I was in his liquor, I think he'd kill me. Which-" Jared starts laughing, and Jensen doesn't really find any of this funny. "Actually, wouldn't be the worst thing he could do, right? Wouldn't be the worst thing."
"Dude," Jensen says. He grabs Jared by one shoulder and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind them loud enough that Jared cringes at the sound. "What are you thinking?"
Jared shrugs, looks around the foyer, and then back at Jensen. "Was thinking about you. Been such a long time since I saw you, so I thought I'd take a walk."
"It's after midnight. You walked here from town? Like this?" Jensen sighs. "I saw you two days ago, man."
"That's a long time when." Jared licks his lips. "Don't send me away. Please. Don't send me away."
That makes Jensen forget about the lecture he was about to start in on. "Of course not. Come here. Come sit with me."
Jared follows when Jensen takes his hand and walks him to the couch. He sits Jared down and gets a glass of water from the kitchen, and Jared takes a sip as Jensen settles in the chair next to the sofa and looks him in the face.
"You're gonna tell me what happened," Jensen says. "Jared, I need you to tell me what happened."
Jared shakes his head, and Jensen knows already. He'll try to change the subject. He'll avoid it. He won't provide details, or give Jensen a name or address. Nothing he can use to actually help Jared. It's been five years of that, and Jensen can't keep watching this. Jared had seemed so much better lately that Jensen had actually let himself hope maybe he'd finally ended up somewhere half decent.
"He doesn't hit me. This one doesn't hit me. Not unless he's drunk, and even then, only sometimes." Jared smiles at him. "Thought you'd like that."
"What does he do?" Jensen asks. Jared just stares at the water in his hand until Jensen follows up, "You wouldn't be here, like this, if he wasn't hurting you."
"What's it matter?" Jared replies, his voice a whisper.
"How could you say that?" Jensen says. "Jared, of course it matters. It matters to me and I know it matters to you."
"So what? What are you gonna do about it?" Jared looks up at him. "Please just let me stay here tonight. I can't go back there tonight. I was stupid, and I drank, and I know you're upset about that and I'm sorry. Everyone says it makes you forget and I just wanted-it doesn't work anyway. Haven't forgotten anything."
Jensen's hand curls into a fist. He's not a violent person, but right about now he wants to crack the skull of someone whose name and face he doesn't even know. "Tell me who he is. Tell me what he does. I'll call CPS and you won't ever have to go back there."
"Ah, what's the point? I get taken away, they send me to another place just as bad. Bad in a different way, or the same way. Or even worse, one of those prisons they call a boys' home where they won't even let me out long enough to come see you. At least I know what I'm getting with this one."
He gets an idea. A fucking crazy idea, but why not? Why couldn't it work? "I'll adopt you."
Jared's head shoots right up, and he laughs. "What?"
"I'm an adult. I've got an income." Jensen smiles, reaching out to grab Jared's hand. "I've got room for you. I don’t actually know what I'd have to do, but I know some lawyers. I can talk to them first thing tomorrow."
"Am I drunk or are you?" Jared asks dismissively, but Jensen ignores it, yanks the kid to his feet and pulls him along faster than he probably should, considering Jared's current state. But he's kind of thrilled by this plan he's cooking up. It's been too quiet here the last few months, and now he actually has the means to help Jared the way he's always wished he could.
He stops in front of the room that used to be his own, pushes the door open, and brings Jared to stand in front of him. "Remember? This used to be my room. I've still got the bedframe in the shed out back. I'll have to get you a new mattress, but look." He points into the corner. "Those drawers still have all my old clothes in them. I bet most of them would fit you, though maybe they'll be a little small."
Jared doesn't move, just keeps staring into what is now Jensen's office, and Jensen kind of hopes he's rearranging furniture in his head, too excited to respond. "You'll be 15 in just a few months, too. You can come work at the diner, like you've always wanted to. When you're not at school, that is. I'll take good care of you. No one will hurt you again."
Jensen is honestly expecting Jared to be delighted, so it's like a knife through the chest when Jared starts crying. Not a soft crying, either, a sob that feels deafening. When he turns to face Jensen, there are tears streaming down his face.
"Please, stop. Please," he begs. "Don't do that, Jensen. Don't promise me things like that."
"What's wrong?" Jensen asks, decidedly crestfallen. "You don't want to come live with me?"
"I want it!" His voice is so hysterical it's nearly a shout. "I want it. It's all I've ever wanted."
Jensen gives him a puzzled smile. "Hey, so what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Jared lets out another sob, and when Jensen steps forward to hold him, Jared instantly burrows, hiding his face in Jensen's neck. He says something, but it's so soft and his words are incomprehensible between the slurring and the crying.
"What? I didn't-"
"You won't keep me," Jared answers. "Nobody ever does."
"Of course I will," he says, shifting so that Jared is looking directly at him, so that he can see how much Jensen means what he's saying. "Jared, I want this to be your home, as long as you need one."
Jared's lips tremble and another tear slips down his cheek. "You think that now. I'll get too old or I'll be too much trouble and not worth the check or you'll realize I'm no good. You'll get tired of me. Everyone does. I don't care anymore, but if it was you. If you threw me out like everyone else does-"
"I would never do that," Jensen promises. "Don't you trust me?"
"I trust that you think you mean what you're saying," Jared responds, reaching up and cupping Jensen's face, and his expression wavers, but he manages not to cry again. "I know you mean it now. You wouldn't lie to me. But it'll change. It always does."
Before he can try to insist that Jared is wrong, Jared's whole body changes its stance. There's suddenly a look of desperation in him that frankly terrifies Jensen.
"I know what you want," he says. "I can give you what you want, for as long as you want it."
He seizes forward and kisses Jensen, and it's nothing like the last time Jared kissed him. This time it's hungry, lustful, full of dark promises. Jensen feels like a monster, because Jared isn't wrong, not entirely. This is something he wants, something he's stayed awake at night thinking about. Every filthy flick of Jared's tongue sends a spark through his body, and Jensen's instinct is to pull Jared in and hold him here forever.
So he musters up all the strength he can and shoves Jared away, hard. "No. Jared, that's not why-"
"But you want it," Jared insists. "You want it, and I can give you it. And you'll keep me for a while. I'm not like the delivery boy, I'm not the kind of person you can love. I know what I'm good for. I know it's all I'm good for. But I'm good. I'll make you feel so good."
"Stop it," he says.
"I know it's what you want," Jared continues, sounding confused. "I've seen the way you look at me. I'm telling you, you can have it. Anything I have that you want, take it."
Jensen shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what I want. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd die first."
"But you said I could stay," Jared replies, sounding so innocent despite the subject matter that it makes Jensen's head spin. Like the concept of someone wanting to help him without asking for something terrible in return is completely alien to him. "I was just trying to do my part."
"God, Jared, do you even realize how fucked up that is? Because I don't think you do."
Jared stays quiet, and Jensen looks away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not any better than the rest of the bastards who've done that to you. I wanted you to have somewhere safe, and I can't-" He swallows a lump and shakes his head. "You're welcome here. If you want to stay, I'll go see the lawyers tomorrow. But I'm begging you. If you do come live here, don't offer that to me again, Jared. Please. I'll hate myself if I ever touch you, but you're right. I do want you. And I don't trust myself to keep pushing you away."
With that, he turns and walks down the hall to his room, too ashamed to look at Jared again before he closes himself off inside.
_______________________________________________________________
Just like the first time Jared stayed the night, Jensen wakes up in the early morning because he hears something in the next room over. It's not crying this time, more like a rattling sound, and Jensen shoves the covers aside to investigate.
A quick peek into the living room confirms that Jared's not on the couch asleep, though the pillow and blankets he usually uses are spread out, and Jensen is relieved that Jared was able to get some rest after what happened the night before.
He goes to his office, because it's not a big house, and that's the next most likely place for Jared to be. A part of him hopes that Jared really is rearranging furniture, making himself as much at home as he can.
What he sees when he reaches the doorway chills him to the bone. Jared's back is to the entrance, and the lights are all off, but there's enough moonlight streaming in through the windows, lighting up Jared's silhouette, that what's happening is unmistakable. Undeniable.
Jared is standing over the desk, the cashbox Jensen kept locked on the edge broken open. He's holding all the cash the diner's brought in since Jensen last went into town and made a deposit, nearly three weeks' worth. He's counting it.
Jensen realizes why Jared was staring so intently into this room earlier, and it wasn't because he was imagining living in it at all.
His first instinct is one he'll hate himself for until the day he dies. He can't stop himself from thinking, you're everything my father said you were.
The words are on the tip of his tongue, but when he clears his throat to speak, Jared lifts his head, not turning to look at him, but signaling that he knows Jensen is there. "I could run away with this," he says. "I wouldn't ever have to go back there."
If Jensen had been the man he wanted to be, he could have offered Jared something better than that. But instead he went and fell for Jared, became a pervert just like everyone else Jared's ever known. If Jensen were a better man, he could have offered Jared a place to live, and Jared would have been able to accept it. He can't be upset with Jared for wanting to take his money and run.
"Yeah," he says. "You could."
Jared turns to face Jensen, and Jensen sees how crazed he looks. "Are you going to call the police?"
Jensen shakes his head. "I'm not going to call the police. I won't stop you."
The moonlight glints off Jared's cheek, and that's the only way he knows the kid is crying. Jared's voice hardly shakes. "You should. Send me to juvy. I've been worse places."
"Do you want that?" Jensen asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that really the best thing you can imagine for yourself?"
"It's where I belong," Jared replies, lifting his hands to draw attention to the money he's grasping, so tight it looks like he's holding on for dear life. "Just look at me. No one has ever cared about me except for you. You're the only person who has ever been nice to me. Kept offering more and more, and here I am trying to steal from you."
Jensen steps forward, intending to comfort Jared, but Jared immediately falls back, knocking into the desk in his haste to get away. Reminding Jensen he's a threat to Jared now, and he should stay as goddamn far away as possible.
"You must hate me," Jared whispers.
"I don't hate you." Jensen licks his lips and frowns down at the floor. "If you take that money, I'll lose the diner. Without the diner, I'll lose the house. Jeff and Danneel and everyone who works there, they'll all be out of a job. But I will understand why you did it, and I won't report you. It's your choice. I'm going back to bed."
He turns from the room and avoids the urge to look when he hears Jared moving quickly inside. Jensen doesn't want to see Jared rushing to take what he can and get out. He doesn't want to see the lost little boy look on Jared's face. He doesn't want to imagine all the ways this could have gone differently if he'd just been what Jared needed. All he wants is to sink into sleep, and if it could make him forget this, Jensen would pay all the money in that box all over again.
_______________________________________________________________
When he wakes up the next morning, he's not surprised to find no trace of Jared on the couch or anywhere else in the house. He goes into the office, already assuming the cash will be gone. He's determined to try to figure out a way not to fold without that money, which means starting early and staring at his budget until his eyes bleed.
The cashbox is closed and sitting on the same corner it had been on when Jared found it, but there's something else resting on top. As soon as Jensen gets close enough to see it, his heart sinks impossibly lower.
He picks up the white plastic by the little metal clasp on the back, reads JARED in bright red letters. He'd forgotten about the nametag, about Jared's silly childhood dream to work at Baby's. Never would have imagined Jared was holding onto it all these years.
Jensen slips it into his pocket, not able to talk himself into tossing it in the trashcan by the desk, takes a deep breath, and opens the metal box.
Three times. He counts the money over three times. Jared didn't keep a dime.
He waits all day for Jared to come to the diner so he can say thank you. He waits a week. Two. He tries to recreate the luck he'd had last time Jared disappeared on him, drives down to the local high school and asks around. One blonde kid with squinty eyes remembers Jared, but he hasn't seen him in months and doesn’t know where to find him.
The bike they keep out front for Jared to ride into town is starting to grow rusty when Jensen finally gives up. He takes it home and locks it in the shed out back, along with the bed that should have been in Jared's room and the name of the boy he fell so hideously in love with.
_______________________________________________________________
Almost two years pass before he sees Jared again.
Jensen is working a late, late shift-the kind that he usually schedules his night owls and new employees to work and stays far, far away from himself. Today, though, he's had two people call out sick and they were already understaffed, so he dragged his ass back to work after a short nap between the morning shift and this one.
He's tired and cranky and only forty-five glorious minutes away from closing. So he hardly glances up at the table he's waiting on before barking, "What do you want?"
"Service here sure has gotten less friendly since yesterday," says the person on the other side of the booth, the one Jensen hadn't even half-acknowledged.
The voice is one he would recognize until his dying day, even if he never heard it again. It's like a bolt of lightning shoots right through him, and Jensen can't control how quickly his head snaps up, the way his arms drop to the side in the jolt of excitement.
Sure enough, the first thing he sees are teeth so big and bright he could go blind looking at them. He's so stunned stupid that he almost thinks he's gotten to the other end of this shift and then some, that the sun came up at some point without him realizing.
It's better than that, though. The kid has shot up even more than before, his always long hair shaggier now, thinner than when he last left Jensen, but still so broad he seems to take up the entire booth he's sitting at. Jensen's heart speeds up when he realizes he's at the right booth and everything. It's really him.
"Jared?" he asks dumbly, and Jared's smile mutes some, until it's just a nervous curl at the corner of his lips.
"Hey, Jensen," he says.
For a few moments, Jensen just stands there and blinks, until the other guy at the table anxiously asks, "You guys know each other?"
It's like a spell breaks, and Jensen checks back into reality to observe who it is sitting in his diner at this ridiculous hour with the boy he thought he'd lost forever. The guy is older but not unattractive, and Jensen wonders for a moment if it's Jared's dad-if Jared even has a dad, and if he does, how the bastard could dare to show his face in public after the hell he's put Jared through.
Then Jared smiles at the guy, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly, and the way the man looks back at him is decidedly not familial. It makes Jensen's stomach turn, but Jared seems fond enough, and if he's ended up with some much older boyfriend, what matters is that he's at least happy.
"Yeah, I know him," he replies. "Don't gotta worry, Mark. Jensen is good people."
The guy squirms a bit in his seat before ordering some hotcakes, leaving Jared to ask for a tuna melt with a side of fries-hold the coleslaw-and a Coke. Jensen is so baffled by the whole moment that he takes the order and heads back to the kitchen in a daze.
Two minutes later, Jensen is peeking through the order window in the kitchen and watching Jared as he says something that makes Mark laugh, his hand still holding Mark's with his thumb rubbing soothingly, as if he's trying to keep the guy at ease. Jensen feels halfway like the creep he is, half like he's having his heart stomped on by a stampede.
"Are you alright, boss?"
Jensen turns and finds Kim watching him with a raised eyebrow, her no-nonsense mom face, and hands on her hips. He backs away from the window, completely caught out, and gives her a sideways smile. "I'm fine," he says.
"There a reason you're spying on your own restaurant?" she asks. "Don't trust Adrianne not to snake the silverware now?"
"What? No!" Jensen hesitates for a moment, but he's got to know. He turns and points through the window to the corner Jared's sitting in and asks, "Has he been here before?"
Kim shrugs. "I just cook the food."
Adrianne walks in then and sees them both huddled by the window. She doesn't even pause before joining them. Adrianne did always love her gossip. "What are we looking at?"
"Jensen thinks you're stealing silverware again," Kim jokes as she takes the slip of paper Adrianne holds up for her and returns to her station at the grill.
"The spoon fell into my apron!" she says, rolling her eyes. "It's been four months. When is this going to stop being funny?"
Jensen tears his eyes away from Jared for only a moment, giving Adrianne an apologetic smile. "Probably if it hadn't fallen out and landed in your eye at the end of the night, it would already have gotten old, but…"
She sighs. "I wish it had been a knife. Then I could have sued your ass. Worker's comp or whatever. Plus, I'd get an eye patch."
"No one is going to give you money for getting stabbed by the utensils you were trying to take home with you."
"I wasn't trying to-" She narrows her eyes. "What are you doing by the window, anyway?"
He points to Jared. "Have you seen that kid here before?"
"Jared?" she asks. "Sure. He's been in during all my shifts for the last few weeks. Nice guy. Certainly more pleasant than most of the drunk losers that come in at this time. Too bad about all the…" She waves her hands in the air as if that's going to finish her sentence, then frowns. "But what are you gonna do? He's not causing problems, is he?"
"No, I…" Jensen rubs his hand over his face and looks away from her. He was about to demand how it could be that no one mentioned Jared being here before, but his brain jumps in just in time to remind him that none of the night staff would have any way to know what Jared being here would mean to him. "I know him, that’s all."
"Here, then take him his sandwich," says Kim from across the kitchen.
Jensen retrieves the food and carries it back out, rushing through the pleasantries in a way he would lecture any other employee for. He just can't find a professional balance with all the directions his emotions are flowing: joy and relief at seeing Jared, alive and healthy and smiling all the way to his crooked incisor, mixed with the sting of knowing he's been coming here for weeks but only during the shift Jensen doesn't work, and then the ugly envy when Mark holds his fork out, letting Jared try his food while his eyes go dark and focus on Jared's pretty pink mouth.
He practically drops their plates on the table and flees.
When it comes time to collect the check, he has every intention of convincing Adrianne to go out and take his place, but he can't get the words out. All he can think is that this could be it. Maybe Jared will disappear again, and Jensen really won't ever see him. At least this time he'll know to say goodbye.
Jared doesn't look as chipper now as he had when he'd first seen Jensen, but he's still smiling when he thanks him for the meal. He turns to Mark, a sweet look on his face and says, "Make sure you give Jensen a real good tip. You know, for his discretion."
"Right, of course," Mark says, still all nervous and twitchy on the other side of the table. "So appreciated."
Mark raises his head enough to give Jensen a rushed smile and then gets to sorting through his wallet for bills to pay the check. Jensen tries to leave, but he feels Jared catch his wrist and he stops right away, like a trained dog.
"Thank you," he says. "It was really delicious. Food here always has been."
"Yeah," Jensen replies. "Thanks. I'm glad…"
He chokes and shakes his head and tries to get free, but Jared won't let go. "It was so good to see you, Jensen. So good to see you."
Instead of asking why, if it's so good to see him, Jared hasn't told anyone to let Jensen know he was here or tried coming during an earlier shift, he waits for Jared to release him and then hides like the coward he is until it's time to collect the check.
ON TO PART THREE
or
BACK TO MASTERPOST
PART TWO
Between the rush of orders, people asking questions, light and sound assaulting him from every direction, Jensen doesn't know when Jared came in.
He doesn't know Jared is there at all, but Jared is there, crowding around him, hiding him from the stares of a restaurant full of unsatisfied customers and demanding employees. Jensen is sitting on the floor next to a tray of overturned food, because he dropped it like the fuck up he is.
In his head, he's looking at every item, mentally adding up how much he's cost them with this slip. Them. He covers his face, too much air coming at him as he gasps, and he can feel tears about to sting at his eyes. There's no them anymore. There's no Dad to be disappointed in him. There's no Mom to shush him and tell him that it's okay, accidents happen.
There's only Jensen. Hardly 18 years old and everything's on him now. Everyone is depending on him to keep this place afloat, and he can't even walk between the kitchen and the tables without spilling $30 worth of product all over the floor. $35 once he factors in the paid time it'll take someone to clean it.
"Shh," a voice says to him. A big hand rests on his shoulder and begins to rub him soothingly. "Shh, hey. It's okay. Jensen, it's okay."
It's not.
Six days ago, Jensen finished high school.
Four days and five nights ago, his parents were coming to get him, pick his drunk ass up from a graduation party. They never got there. Someone else decided to drive home instead of waiting for a ride, and the next time Jensen saw them, it was to ID the bodies.
Three days ago, he called the local college, let them know he wouldn't be coming to take those business classes after all, because, very suddenly, he owns a business and he'll just have to learn to run it on his own.
17 hours ago, Jensen put his parents in the ground.
Today, he opened, because one more day without bringing in profit, the most recent shipment of food all gone expired without nearly enough sales to cover it…
Jensen can't let the damn diner fail. His whole life, his father promised this to him. His whole life, he watched his parents scrounge and save to keep Baby's open, so that they could leave it to Jensen one day. It wasn't supposed to be today.
If he loses the diner, he's got nothing. He'll have gotten them killed and shut down their dream all in the same week.
"Jensen," he hears that voice again, and it's so close to him. "Come back to me."
He blinks his eyes a few times, chokes away the tears before they can start falling, and he sees Jared's face, worry and concern all over it. This is wrong, too. Jared isn't supposed to comfort Jensen. Jensen is supposed to look after him.
"Jensen, hey. You're okay. It's alright." Jared's hand slips down from his shoulder and presses against his heart instead, holding him up against the wall. "Take a deep breath and look at me."
After a few seconds more of panic, Jensen forces himself to do as instructed, thinks of nothing but the air coming in and slowly letting it out.
"Good." Jared smiles encouragingly. "That's real good, Jen. Why don't you do it again, huh? Just one more time."
He nods as he inhales, holds it, exhales. Tries not to think. Finally he feels like he has himself enough under control to ask, "Is everybody staring at me?"
Jared doesn't even look to check before he shakes his head. "Don't you worry what they're doing. Stay with me. Just with me."
Jensen reaches up, grips Jared's wrist, and gives it a squeeze.
"Okay. We're gonna go outside. C'mon, stand up." Jensen lets Jared pull him to his feet and doesn't protest when Jared unhooks the ring of keys on his belt as he guides Jensen out the door and down the stairs.
It doesn't surprise him that Jared immediately gets to unlocking the Impala, but it does make him smile a little. First time in five days he's let himself.
They sit inside for what feels like an eternity, completely quiet except that Jensen's brain won't shut up. He keeps trying to see into the restaurant, to make sure that everything is running right. Jared just huffs a laugh when he does it, which makes Jensen check himself.
Finally, Jared says, "No one expects you to be okay right now, Jensen. No one expects you to be perfect at this."
"My dad would have," he responds, looking down at his hands. "When grandpa died, he only had to close for one day. Things were back on track in-"
"How old was he?" Jared asks. "How long had his dad been sick? I know…I know there's no preparing for things like that, not completely anyway. But he was ready for it. You're hardly more than a kid and no one saw this coming. You're allowed to make a few mistakes."
"Every day since I was younger than you are, he was training me so that when this happened, I wouldn't let him down."
"How have you let him down? By dropping a tray?"
Jared takes one of Jensen's hands in his own, and Jensen realizes with a little bit of awe that Jared's fingers nearly engulf his. He knew the kid's been shooting up for the last few months, all those scrawny limbs stretching out, but he hadn't quite grasped how much.
"I'm going to," he says, quiet enough that Jared probably can't hear him. So he clears his throat and starts again, forcing his voice not to shake. "I'm gonna fail and everyone knows it. You've seen the way they look at me, like they think they're all gonna be out of a job in a month. Jeff's worked here for 15 years and now he's taking orders from someone he used to babysit. I'm a fucking joke, Jared."
"No," Jared replies, his tone sharp. "You said it yourself. You've been preparing for this for years. It's not gonna be easy, not right away. Some trays are gonna get dropped. Maybe you'll have to earn confidence from your staff. But you are not going to fail."
"You're just saying that," says Jensen. "You don't know the way they've been treating me. Everyone's just waiting for me to go off."
Jared smiles, reaches out to touch Jensen's face. "You think that has anything to do with the way you've been acting?"
"What do you mean?"
He watches Jared try to figure out how to say what he's about to say, until finally, Jared shifts and turns so that he's looking Jensen in the eye.
"You've been pretending you're fine," he says. "That's more worrying than just admitting you're not. You need to deal with this. You need to talk to someone and if...if I can help. I know I'm just some dumb kid to you, but you can talk to me."
Jensen shakes his head. Jared doesn't get it, and why should he? However regretfully young he's had to grow up, at the end of the day, he is a kid. Maybe not a dumb one, and Jensen isn't naïve enough to believe he's a happy one. But there's still some undercurrent of innocence to him, and Jensen doesn't wanna ruin that by talking now, by spilling all the things clouding his mind, like what his mother's body looked like after it had gone through a windshield.
But no one else has asked. Not that he's been alone-he hasn't had a moment alone. No one has given him that earnest, understanding look Jared is and offered to just listen.
He's heard wills being read out, seen to it that everyone got what was left to them, signed a million papers he didn't understand the words printed on. He's spent days sitting with lawyers whose names and faces he forgot as soon as they walked out of the room. One of them slapped him on the shoulder as he left, told Jensen he was lucky this hadn't happened a few months ago; if he'd still been a minor, it would have complicated his rights to the diner and the house. Lucky break.
Lucky Jensen organized a joint funeral, answered a million questions about flower arrangements and caskets and what kind of cheese would be served at the wake. He stood, stoic and unmoved as relatives and family friends cried to him, pouring out every memory they had with his dearly departed. He comforted them.
He sat down and crunched numbers and figured out how much they would need to make this week just to breakeven. Opened the diner, drew up a shift schedule, prepared checks to go out. Went through all the motions.
No time to process what happened. Not a moment to sit and feel his own loss. He hasn't cried. He hasn't even gotten a chance to cry.
And here's Jared, hardly more than a child, newly six-foot-three and skinny bones poking out of a hoodie Jensen leant him a year ago, asking him to let it all out when not a single friend or relative has seen through his bullshit attempt to pass for someone who isn't about a minute from a nervous breakdown.
A part of him, crazy as the thought is, thinks Jared must have grown so much exactly for this moment, so he'd be big enough to catch Jensen. He wants nothing in the world more than to fall into those too-long arms and cry until he's all dried out.
But there's a restaurant not ten feet away from where they're sitting full of people who need their food and their marching orders and it's all on Jensen.
Jared waits for him to talk, and when Jensen stays silent, knowing if he says one word it'll all flood out, he starts talking instead.
"I know your parents didn't like me much," he says, and Jensen begins to move because, yes, okay, this fits. Jensen can tell Jared he's wrong, even though he isn't really, and that's a comfortable part of the routine. He'll help Jared cope with whatever he's going through and keep right on focusing on that instead of-
"Don't," Jared says, turning his body enough to push Jensen down into the leather. "Don't tell me it's not true. Just listen."
He starts again, "What I mean to say is, we weren't close. So…so I know you'll think I'm just saying this to make you feel better, that I wouldn't really know. But I can read people, Jensen. Kind of have to, the way I grew up. You learn to read people. Your parents were good people. And they loved you. They loved you so much that I-" Jared bites his bottom lip and looks down, giving Jensen's hand a soft squeeze. "Didn't really believe people loved their kids like that."
Jensen frowns, and Jared still isn't looking at him as he continues, "You think they'd be ashamed of you? They never could be. You shoulda heard the way your momma talked about you when you were off doing something else, how responsible she thought you were. And your dad-I know he never said it. He would have, if he'd known this was gonna happen, I'd bet my life on it. I saw the way he watched you work. Jensen, he was so proud of you.
"They're always gonna be proud of you, no matter what. What happened to them was terrible. It's not fair that this happened-" Jared looks up, his eyes so much older than his 14 years. He meets Jensen's gaze, and then he reaches out to touch Jensen's cheek. "It wasn't your fault. What happened to them was not your fault. You don't have anything to make up for."
Jensen shakes his head, and Jared pulls him down, so that his face is hidden against the soft material of a sweatshirt that used to be his own, but which is somehow much more familiar now that it's worn out and Jared-scented. There's something tugging at the edge of Jensen's heart that makes him sure, without any logical reason to think so, that there wouldn't be another person in the whole damn world who could make him feel this safe, this accepted.
So he breaks. He's so damn far from the edge of this cliff, and he finally lets gravity do its work. As soon as one sob has ripped its way from him, Jensen is crying against Jared's chest, so loud he can hardly hear the reassuring sounds Jared makes. He wouldn't be able to stop himself if he tried, but he's burnt out on trying anyway.
A knock on the window startles him. Jensen has no idea how long they've been here, it feels like hours, and he realizes whoever this is, they must be pissed. Taking a break is one thing, but the boss disappearing without warning, leaving a mess behind, is another.
"Who is it?" he asks, embarrassed by the fact that his voice is hardly comprehensible.
"Danneel," Jared replies, and Jensen's entire body rocks with the motion as his friend leans over and starts to roll the window down.
"Tell her I'll be right in," he says, wiping at his face to try and get himself under control.
Jared huffs and then he hears Danneel's voice, uncharacteristically gentle, the way it's been for days. She's been trying, Jensen knows, more than anyone else, and he does appreciate that. But Danneel has never been good at comforting, and her attempts at being kind have only served as a reminder.
"Hey," she says. "Is he-?"
"I've got him," Jared assures her, his hand still curled around Jensen's head, shielding him so she can't see that he's been crying. She probably knows, but Jensen is thankful nonetheless. "I'm going to take him home. You guys can handle closing, right?"
Danneel sounds surprised, probably because she knows Jensen wouldn't have agreed to that, but the relief in her voice is palpable. "Yes. Yeah, of course. Of course, it'll be fine, Jensen. We've got everything covered."
He feels some rattling as Jared unhooks the diner keys and hands them to Danneel through the open window, and then he's rolling it back up, closing them in here together again.
Jensen sits up once he's sure she's gone and takes long breaths, the way Jared told him to do earlier. It helps. He feels lighter now that he's cried some, even if there's still a world of shit weighing him down that he desperately does not want to burden Jared with.
Jared just gives him a tiny smile. "Come on."
He opens the door to the Impala and takes Jensen's hand and Jensen follows, hopeful that if he doesn't put up a struggle, Jared won't let go.
Once he's out of the car and in the open evening air, Jensen waits for Jared to drop his hand, but all he does is adjust the hold, so it's comfortable to walk. He leads Jensen a few steps through the parking lot, until Jensen stops him.
"My truck's in the other direction," says Jensen.
Jared shakes his head and pulls. "We're walking."
"I live almost three miles away, Jared. Down a dirt path with no lights, and the sun'll be setting soon."
"You know the way, don't you?" he asks, and Jensen nods. "Good. It'll give us plenty of time to talk."
Another string in Jensen's chest snaps, and it feels like his heart is almost free enough to start pumping again. He wonders if Jared somehow knows that he's frozen up every time he's gotten in his car since it happened, that he sits there for ten minutes before he can force himself to start the engine, and all he sees when he drives are roads painted in blood.
Jared can't know that. It must just be instinct, like how he knows the exact way to touch Jensen and how to pitch his voice so that, for however brief a moment, it seems like maybe things will be okay again.
They make their way to Jensen's house as the sun sinks low in the sky, fingers tangled all the while. Jared talks at first, but eventually Jensen joins in. He doesn't bring up the ugly things, instead finds stupid, random memories of his parents that make them both smile.
"You know there aren't polar bears in Texas, right?"
Jensen snorts. "There are polar bears everywhere! Haven't you ever seen Lost?"
"I can't believe you fell for that," Jared says, walking in a slant so that he bumps into Jensen.
Jensen bumps him back and grins. "I was twelve! No one doubts their parents when they're twelve. He could have told me there were dragons out here and I would have believe him."
In the twilight, Jensen sees Jared's expression dim a little, but his voice is just as cheerful when he responds, "So, how did you find out you'd been duped?"
"Asked my mom if I could have a spear to walk home with to protect me from them." Jensen laughs. "Man, you should have seen my dad's face after she taught him a lesson about having fun at my expense. I bet he wished it had just been a polar bear he'd gone up against."
Jared practically roars, and Jensen watches him crack up for so long that by the time he manages to take his eyes off the kid, they're standing on his stoop. And he realizes Jared's still got his keys.
He holds out his hand for them, expecting Jared to give them over and start on his long walk home, but instead Jared climbs to the door and lets them both in, guiding Jensen along like a lost sheep.
"You need to rest," he says. "I know it's still pretty early. But I think a good night's sleep will help."
Jensen doesn't argue. There's no way he gets sleep tonight, god knows he's been trying. He'll lie there for hours, staring at the posters on his walls and feeling oddly disconnected from his own childhood home until the sun breaks in through the window and he has to get up to open the diner. Same as he has every night this week.
But he lets Jared help him out of his street clothes anyway, until he's standing at the edge of his bed in a loose t shirt and his boxers.
"Thanks," he says, waiting for Jared to go. "For everything. I mean it."
Jared doesn't move so much as a toe toward the door. He takes Jensen's shoulders in his hands and steers him down, until he's sitting on the mattress, and then watches silently as Jensen lies down on his side and pulls the sheets over himself.
"I'll leave the keys on the nightstand," he tells Jensen. "I'll be back at the diner after school tomorrow, so if you need me-"
Suddenly, Jensen seizes forward and grabs Jared's arm. Before the kid can drop his keys and leave. He doesn't even really know what he's doing, just knows he doesn't want to be alone. Not another night alone in this house he could never get any privacy in.
"Stay," he says, voice edging toward begging. "Please, stay. I just..."
I want to be held, he thinks, but he can't say it. It's too much to ask for, except that Jared's face melts, and he whispers, "of course" before crawling in on the other side, wrapping Jensen up in all his warmth.
Jensen does sleep. He sleeps and when he wakes up, he's still lying in Jared's arms, his face creased by the wrinkles on Jared's sweatshirt from sleeping pressed against his chest.
Jared is awake already, and in the back of his head, Jensen is pretty sure the kid should be up by now, getting ready for school. He stays quiet instead of bringing that up, because, selfish as it is, he can't imagine losing Jared right now.
For a few minutes, they just stare at each other, Jensen's breath coming slowly. He's not sure what he's waiting for, but he knows there's something. Then Jared leans down, his lips finding Jensen's.
It's not a hungry kiss. It's not a kiss that means anything but comfort, such a soft pressure against his mouth. Jensen knows he should push Jared away, like the last time Jared tried to kiss him. He can’t make his shaking arms do anything but pull Jared closer, and he hates himself for that. Jensen was supposed to do right by Jared; instead, somewhere along the road, he fell in love with the kid.
When Jared breaks away, he presses another kiss, just as tender, to Jensen's forehead, and that's as far as it goes. Half an hour later, he's on his feet getting dressed.
He smiles at Jensen before he walks out the door, says, "I know it’s not worth much, but I believe in you."
_______________________________________________________________
It's touch-and-go for the first few months, and Jensen finds that he has a lot of learning to do. But he allows himself to ask for help after Jared's intervention and finds that his more experienced staff don't resent having to teach him some of the tricks they've picked up. They even appreciate that he's willing to acknowledge the things they know that he doesn't.
Baby's survives. The diner eventually begins to settle into the new management, and while it's not raking in millions any more than it was before Jensen took over, it's not on the edge of downfall every week, either. He makes enough to keep going, to hold on to the roof over his head, pay his staff, and even-he knows his father's head would spin if he knew-he sets aside enough to take care of Jared, see that the kid gets fed regularly and eats a damn vegetable every now and again.
He takes pride in the way Jared begins to fill out, all those sunken bones gaining muscle that fits much better on his big frame. He's still a little on the lanky side, but Jensen is confident he'll have a healthy build in a few months, if he ever stops growing up and up and up.
Jensen does his best to only think about that for the right reasons, not let himself stare too much at the new ripple of Jared's back under his thin t shirts, or dream of tracing the veins in his arms with his tongue. He's not very good at it. Jared seems to get more beautiful every day.
Right now, he's washing the Impala, because he's the only person in the world aside from Jensen that can do it right. Jared appreciates the importance of the task, instead of seeing it as one more chore to get through before punch-out time.
But he's soaking wet and shirtless just a few feet from the diner window, and Jensen's not really equipped to handle it.
"Earth to Jensen." Jensen stands up from where he was leaning on the counter, shakes his head a bit and blinks a few times. "Come in Jensen."
Jensen reluctantly tears his eyes away from Jared and gives Danneel a smile. "Yeah, what? What is it?"
"You've been standing there with that glazed look on your face for like a full twenty minutes now. Not for nothing, but you're terrible at inspiring productivity in your workers."
"Did you have something you needed, or do you just want to annoy me?"
Danneel frowns, the look on her face crushed. "Oh, Jensen. I thought you knew me better by now. I'm so hurt you'd think I would ever want anything other than to annoy you."
He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Well, you're doing a fine job so far."
"Thanks, boss!" she says, her false sadness giving way to a shit-eating grin. "It's always such a boost to have my work appreciated."
Jensen hears the door jingle as someone comes in, but he resolutely keeps his eyes on Danneel, knowing if he looks to the door, he'll just end up staring at Jared again. One of the waitresses will get the customer.
"I know why you're so distracted," she teases.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, trying not to look like the particular brand of pervert he apparently is. "Why?"
"It's Thursday," she says. "Almost 5:30. Gil the beautiful vegetable delivery man will be here any minute."
Jensen nearly chokes on his relief. He likes Gil well enough. The guy really is gorgeous, and he's sweet, and Jensen has enjoyed what they've gotten up to on the scattered dates they've gone on. Maybe he would be interested in more if it weren't for a certain scrawny teenager who keeps Jensen's heart too locked up for him to really think of anyone else. Instead, he'd forgotten Gil was scheduled to make a delivery at all.
Still, he plays along, ducking his head and shoving at Danneel's side. "Shut up. I'm completely focused."
"Nuh uh, you aren't. You're thinking about your boyfriend."
"He is not my boyfriend," Jensen says, feeling his skin start to burn as Danneel's voice grows louder and bolder.
She turns and announces, "Jensen's nervous about his boyfriend coming today, so no one embarrass him," to the entire kitchen.
"Go do your job!" says Jensen with a laugh.
There's a cough from the counter, and Jensen's laugh gets caught in his throat when he looks up and realizes it's Jared, not a new customer, sitting at the counter. Jared's expression is unreadable, and Jensen cuts his eyes away immediately, feeling like the kid can see right through him.
"Hey, Jared," he says, pretending to wipe at a spot on the counter. "All done cleaning Baby up?"
"Yeah" is all he says, and finally Jensen can't keep his eyes to himself.
When he looks up, Jared's sitting patiently, waiting for Jeff to cook up whatever he's just ordered as payment for helping out. Jensen is already counting down the days until Jared turns 15 and is old enough to actually work, even though it's almost a year away.
"How does she look?"
"Perfect," Jared says. "She always looks perfect." He pauses for a little while and then, as if he can't hold himself back any longer, he demands, "Is it true? Is the delivery guy your boyfriend?"
"I…no," Jensen stutters. "He's just. A guy."
"I've seen him," Jared says, weirdly aggressive. "He's okay. Not that great if you ask me."
"He's really nice," Jensen replies.
Jensen can see Jared biting the inside of his cheek, but finally he says, "Sorry. Not my business, anyway."
He rounds the counter and takes a seat on the stool next to Jared. "You alright?"
Jared nods and smiles at Jeff as he sets a chicken sandwich down in front of him, then immediately takes the top bun off and starts poking at it.
"You better have taken that off because you're planning to put condiments on. You're not getting rid of the tomatoes."
Even though he groans, Jared's mouth turns up in the corner for the first time since he came in. "Aww, come on, Jensen. Don't be like that."
"You're eating your damn vegetables!" he insists.
For a few seconds, Jared looks dutifully annoyed, but then a dark look flashes across his face, and when he smiles and leans in, Jensen knows he's in trouble. "I'll eat the tomatoes if you ditch work and come see a movie with me."
"This isn't math class," Jensen says, raising an eyebrow. "I can't just skip it."
"Sure you can, you're the boss. What's the point of being boss if you never get time off?"
He shakes his head. "Who's gonna sign for the delivery? Or close?"
"Jeff," Jared says. "Danneel. Jeff and Danneel. Danneel and Jeff." He grins, and Jensen feels like his brain is being washed out by the brightness of those big white teeth. "C'mon, Jensen. Come hang out with me. We never hang out."
Jensen hesitates, then looks down at himself. "Nah, look at me, Jared. I'm a mess. I smell like the kitchen. We'll do it some other time."
"I think you look good," says Jared, and even though he knows Jared's just trying to get him to agree, it makes him lose most of his ability to resist. "But we could do the drive-in theatre. It's not far from here. Then no one will smell you except me."
Jensen thinks it over for about half a minute before Jared puts a hand on top of his on the counter, and when Jensen looks up, Jared looks so damn earnest. "Please?"
An hour later, they're across town, stationed at the drive-in theatre in the back of Jensen's pick-up truck, waiting for the sun to set so the movie can start. The one they picked is something about cars-Jensen hasn't seen anything else in the franchise, but Jared had been so excited about it, and, well. Jensen's got a weak spot ten miles wide, there's no use pretending otherwise at this point.
"Gimme the popcorn!" Jared demands, reaching across Jensen as he tries to hold it out somewhere those long arms won't reach.
"You've already eaten like half!" Jensen says, shoving him away with his other hand. "There won't be any left by the time it starts."
Jared laughs and nearly tackles him, climbing over Jensen to get at the popcorn. A year ago, maybe even just a few short months ago, Jensen would have laughed and kept playing along. Now, Jared nearly in his lap has an instant effect on him, and Jensen immediately shoves the popcorn into Jared's hands just to get rid of the hum of arousal.
He hates himself as soon as Jared sits back, looking down at the greasy bag in his hand with a mix of confusion and disappointment. Jensen used to think of Jared as a little brother. He'd always wanted a sibling, desperately, someone to share stupid roughhousing like this with.
Mom had been sick when she was young; the doctors had all told her she'd never have a baby. His parents had nearly given up-they were about to start looking into adoption the day she found out she was pregnant. Jensen had been her miracle. There was never going to be a little brother or sister for him, and then Jared came along, tugging at Jensen's heartstrings from the first, and he'd thought for so long that's what this was.
Seeing Jared's flushed cheeks now and feeling the growing need to touch as it wells up inside of him makes Jensen want to claw his traitorous heart right out of his chest. He knows what this kid's been through. He was supposed to be safe ground for Jared.
Jensen looks away, turning toward the screen and wishing the sun would just set already so they could get distracted by whatever mindless explosions and gratuitous violence this movie will provide.
For a long time, they're both quiet. It's nearly dark when Jared asks, "Do you love him? The delivery guy, do you love him?"
Jensen is surprised by that, both the seeming randomness of the question and the fact that Jared could ever think Jensen loves anyone else. But he deserves to feel safe. If he doesn't know how Jensen feels and Jensen can just keep that part of himself hidden, he can still do Jared some good.
"No, not yet," he says. "But maybe someday."
Jared sounds off when he replies, "You should. He'd be good for you."
Jensen has no clue what the hell to say to that, but mercifully the movie starts. If Jensen spends more time watching the light flicker on Jared's face, the way the kid smiles at every cheap thrill, Jared never has to know.
_______________________________________________________________
Beer in hand, Jensen is just settling down in front of the TV after a long shift when a knock at the door pulls him out of it. He takes a minute to wonder who it is-Jensen's house is pretty far in the middle of what used to be a farm before his grandpa decided he'd rather cook food than grow it and had the diner built on the edge of their land. Visitors don't really drop by unannounced.
Another knock comes, this one more insistent, and Jensen grudgingly gets back onto his sore feet, turns off the television and makes his way across the house.
"Better not be trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner," Jensen mutters as he unlocks the door and swings it open.
Jared is standing on the other side, which is maybe not as surprising as Jensen feels like it is, but he wishes it had occurred to him before he opened up.
He's still wearing the grease-stained wife beater he'd had on under his uniform all day, a beer dangling from his fingertips, and Jensen knows the last few months of work, diner food, and coming home too exhausted to do anything but crash have left him with a bit of a gut. Fuck, he must look like even more of a slob than he usually does when Jared's around.
"Jared, hey," he says. "Um, what's up?"
Jared blinks at him a few times, then sways forward, and Jensen realizes how out of focus his eyes are. His body tenses, and he immediately reaches out, checking Jared for new bruises or open wounds. He's both relieved and surprised when he doesn't find anything, but when he looks up again, Jared's face is more wrecked than he's ever seen it.
Fuck, Jared's usually so intent on keeping Jensen from worrying that he smiles through his busted lip, and now here he is, no apparent reason to be shaken up, and yet he looks like he was just in a blender.
"Jared, are you okay, man? Talk to me."
"Am I okay?" Jared repeats, letting out a little laugh as he says it. "What do you think the threshold is for that? Like, how does one determine if they're okay or not? We never think about things like that, do we?"
A scent wafts over Jensen as Jared rambles on, and he can't help if he feels a little like a disappointed dad when he asks, "Is that tequila? Jesus, Jared, are you drunk?"
"Had to come here," he says, grinning. "Had to leave because if he finds out I was in his liquor, I think he'd kill me. Which-" Jared starts laughing, and Jensen doesn't really find any of this funny. "Actually, wouldn't be the worst thing he could do, right? Wouldn't be the worst thing."
"Dude," Jensen says. He grabs Jared by one shoulder and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind them loud enough that Jared cringes at the sound. "What are you thinking?"
Jared shrugs, looks around the foyer, and then back at Jensen. "Was thinking about you. Been such a long time since I saw you, so I thought I'd take a walk."
"It's after midnight. You walked here from town? Like this?" Jensen sighs. "I saw you two days ago, man."
"That's a long time when." Jared licks his lips. "Don't send me away. Please. Don't send me away."
That makes Jensen forget about the lecture he was about to start in on. "Of course not. Come here. Come sit with me."
Jared follows when Jensen takes his hand and walks him to the couch. He sits Jared down and gets a glass of water from the kitchen, and Jared takes a sip as Jensen settles in the chair next to the sofa and looks him in the face.
"You're gonna tell me what happened," Jensen says. "Jared, I need you to tell me what happened."
Jared shakes his head, and Jensen knows already. He'll try to change the subject. He'll avoid it. He won't provide details, or give Jensen a name or address. Nothing he can use to actually help Jared. It's been five years of that, and Jensen can't keep watching this. Jared had seemed so much better lately that Jensen had actually let himself hope maybe he'd finally ended up somewhere half decent.
"He doesn't hit me. This one doesn't hit me. Not unless he's drunk, and even then, only sometimes." Jared smiles at him. "Thought you'd like that."
"What does he do?" Jensen asks. Jared just stares at the water in his hand until Jensen follows up, "You wouldn't be here, like this, if he wasn't hurting you."
"What's it matter?" Jared replies, his voice a whisper.
"How could you say that?" Jensen says. "Jared, of course it matters. It matters to me and I know it matters to you."
"So what? What are you gonna do about it?" Jared looks up at him. "Please just let me stay here tonight. I can't go back there tonight. I was stupid, and I drank, and I know you're upset about that and I'm sorry. Everyone says it makes you forget and I just wanted-it doesn't work anyway. Haven't forgotten anything."
Jensen's hand curls into a fist. He's not a violent person, but right about now he wants to crack the skull of someone whose name and face he doesn't even know. "Tell me who he is. Tell me what he does. I'll call CPS and you won't ever have to go back there."
"Ah, what's the point? I get taken away, they send me to another place just as bad. Bad in a different way, or the same way. Or even worse, one of those prisons they call a boys' home where they won't even let me out long enough to come see you. At least I know what I'm getting with this one."
He gets an idea. A fucking crazy idea, but why not? Why couldn't it work? "I'll adopt you."
Jared's head shoots right up, and he laughs. "What?"
"I'm an adult. I've got an income." Jensen smiles, reaching out to grab Jared's hand. "I've got room for you. I don’t actually know what I'd have to do, but I know some lawyers. I can talk to them first thing tomorrow."
"Am I drunk or are you?" Jared asks dismissively, but Jensen ignores it, yanks the kid to his feet and pulls him along faster than he probably should, considering Jared's current state. But he's kind of thrilled by this plan he's cooking up. It's been too quiet here the last few months, and now he actually has the means to help Jared the way he's always wished he could.
He stops in front of the room that used to be his own, pushes the door open, and brings Jared to stand in front of him. "Remember? This used to be my room. I've still got the bedframe in the shed out back. I'll have to get you a new mattress, but look." He points into the corner. "Those drawers still have all my old clothes in them. I bet most of them would fit you, though maybe they'll be a little small."
Jared doesn't move, just keeps staring into what is now Jensen's office, and Jensen kind of hopes he's rearranging furniture in his head, too excited to respond. "You'll be 15 in just a few months, too. You can come work at the diner, like you've always wanted to. When you're not at school, that is. I'll take good care of you. No one will hurt you again."
Jensen is honestly expecting Jared to be delighted, so it's like a knife through the chest when Jared starts crying. Not a soft crying, either, a sob that feels deafening. When he turns to face Jensen, there are tears streaming down his face.
"Please, stop. Please," he begs. "Don't do that, Jensen. Don't promise me things like that."
"What's wrong?" Jensen asks, decidedly crestfallen. "You don't want to come live with me?"
"I want it!" His voice is so hysterical it's nearly a shout. "I want it. It's all I've ever wanted."
Jensen gives him a puzzled smile. "Hey, so what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Jared lets out another sob, and when Jensen steps forward to hold him, Jared instantly burrows, hiding his face in Jensen's neck. He says something, but it's so soft and his words are incomprehensible between the slurring and the crying.
"What? I didn't-"
"You won't keep me," Jared answers. "Nobody ever does."
"Of course I will," he says, shifting so that Jared is looking directly at him, so that he can see how much Jensen means what he's saying. "Jared, I want this to be your home, as long as you need one."
Jared's lips tremble and another tear slips down his cheek. "You think that now. I'll get too old or I'll be too much trouble and not worth the check or you'll realize I'm no good. You'll get tired of me. Everyone does. I don't care anymore, but if it was you. If you threw me out like everyone else does-"
"I would never do that," Jensen promises. "Don't you trust me?"
"I trust that you think you mean what you're saying," Jared responds, reaching up and cupping Jensen's face, and his expression wavers, but he manages not to cry again. "I know you mean it now. You wouldn't lie to me. But it'll change. It always does."
Before he can try to insist that Jared is wrong, Jared's whole body changes its stance. There's suddenly a look of desperation in him that frankly terrifies Jensen.
"I know what you want," he says. "I can give you what you want, for as long as you want it."
He seizes forward and kisses Jensen, and it's nothing like the last time Jared kissed him. This time it's hungry, lustful, full of dark promises. Jensen feels like a monster, because Jared isn't wrong, not entirely. This is something he wants, something he's stayed awake at night thinking about. Every filthy flick of Jared's tongue sends a spark through his body, and Jensen's instinct is to pull Jared in and hold him here forever.
So he musters up all the strength he can and shoves Jared away, hard. "No. Jared, that's not why-"
"But you want it," Jared insists. "You want it, and I can give you it. And you'll keep me for a while. I'm not like the delivery boy, I'm not the kind of person you can love. I know what I'm good for. I know it's all I'm good for. But I'm good. I'll make you feel so good."
"Stop it," he says.
"I know it's what you want," Jared continues, sounding confused. "I've seen the way you look at me. I'm telling you, you can have it. Anything I have that you want, take it."
Jensen shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what I want. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd die first."
"But you said I could stay," Jared replies, sounding so innocent despite the subject matter that it makes Jensen's head spin. Like the concept of someone wanting to help him without asking for something terrible in return is completely alien to him. "I was just trying to do my part."
"God, Jared, do you even realize how fucked up that is? Because I don't think you do."
Jared stays quiet, and Jensen looks away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not any better than the rest of the bastards who've done that to you. I wanted you to have somewhere safe, and I can't-" He swallows a lump and shakes his head. "You're welcome here. If you want to stay, I'll go see the lawyers tomorrow. But I'm begging you. If you do come live here, don't offer that to me again, Jared. Please. I'll hate myself if I ever touch you, but you're right. I do want you. And I don't trust myself to keep pushing you away."
With that, he turns and walks down the hall to his room, too ashamed to look at Jared again before he closes himself off inside.
_______________________________________________________________
Just like the first time Jared stayed the night, Jensen wakes up in the early morning because he hears something in the next room over. It's not crying this time, more like a rattling sound, and Jensen shoves the covers aside to investigate.
A quick peek into the living room confirms that Jared's not on the couch asleep, though the pillow and blankets he usually uses are spread out, and Jensen is relieved that Jared was able to get some rest after what happened the night before.
He goes to his office, because it's not a big house, and that's the next most likely place for Jared to be. A part of him hopes that Jared really is rearranging furniture, making himself as much at home as he can.
What he sees when he reaches the doorway chills him to the bone. Jared's back is to the entrance, and the lights are all off, but there's enough moonlight streaming in through the windows, lighting up Jared's silhouette, that what's happening is unmistakable. Undeniable.
Jared is standing over the desk, the cashbox Jensen kept locked on the edge broken open. He's holding all the cash the diner's brought in since Jensen last went into town and made a deposit, nearly three weeks' worth. He's counting it.
Jensen realizes why Jared was staring so intently into this room earlier, and it wasn't because he was imagining living in it at all.
His first instinct is one he'll hate himself for until the day he dies. He can't stop himself from thinking, you're everything my father said you were.
The words are on the tip of his tongue, but when he clears his throat to speak, Jared lifts his head, not turning to look at him, but signaling that he knows Jensen is there. "I could run away with this," he says. "I wouldn't ever have to go back there."
If Jensen had been the man he wanted to be, he could have offered Jared something better than that. But instead he went and fell for Jared, became a pervert just like everyone else Jared's ever known. If Jensen were a better man, he could have offered Jared a place to live, and Jared would have been able to accept it. He can't be upset with Jared for wanting to take his money and run.
"Yeah," he says. "You could."
Jared turns to face Jensen, and Jensen sees how crazed he looks. "Are you going to call the police?"
Jensen shakes his head. "I'm not going to call the police. I won't stop you."
The moonlight glints off Jared's cheek, and that's the only way he knows the kid is crying. Jared's voice hardly shakes. "You should. Send me to juvy. I've been worse places."
"Do you want that?" Jensen asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that really the best thing you can imagine for yourself?"
"It's where I belong," Jared replies, lifting his hands to draw attention to the money he's grasping, so tight it looks like he's holding on for dear life. "Just look at me. No one has ever cared about me except for you. You're the only person who has ever been nice to me. Kept offering more and more, and here I am trying to steal from you."
Jensen steps forward, intending to comfort Jared, but Jared immediately falls back, knocking into the desk in his haste to get away. Reminding Jensen he's a threat to Jared now, and he should stay as goddamn far away as possible.
"You must hate me," Jared whispers.
"I don't hate you." Jensen licks his lips and frowns down at the floor. "If you take that money, I'll lose the diner. Without the diner, I'll lose the house. Jeff and Danneel and everyone who works there, they'll all be out of a job. But I will understand why you did it, and I won't report you. It's your choice. I'm going back to bed."
He turns from the room and avoids the urge to look when he hears Jared moving quickly inside. Jensen doesn't want to see Jared rushing to take what he can and get out. He doesn't want to see the lost little boy look on Jared's face. He doesn't want to imagine all the ways this could have gone differently if he'd just been what Jared needed. All he wants is to sink into sleep, and if it could make him forget this, Jensen would pay all the money in that box all over again.
_______________________________________________________________
When he wakes up the next morning, he's not surprised to find no trace of Jared on the couch or anywhere else in the house. He goes into the office, already assuming the cash will be gone. He's determined to try to figure out a way not to fold without that money, which means starting early and staring at his budget until his eyes bleed.
The cashbox is closed and sitting on the same corner it had been on when Jared found it, but there's something else resting on top. As soon as Jensen gets close enough to see it, his heart sinks impossibly lower.
He picks up the white plastic by the little metal clasp on the back, reads JARED in bright red letters. He'd forgotten about the nametag, about Jared's silly childhood dream to work at Baby's. Never would have imagined Jared was holding onto it all these years.
Jensen slips it into his pocket, not able to talk himself into tossing it in the trashcan by the desk, takes a deep breath, and opens the metal box.
Three times. He counts the money over three times. Jared didn't keep a dime.
He waits all day for Jared to come to the diner so he can say thank you. He waits a week. Two. He tries to recreate the luck he'd had last time Jared disappeared on him, drives down to the local high school and asks around. One blonde kid with squinty eyes remembers Jared, but he hasn't seen him in months and doesn’t know where to find him.
The bike they keep out front for Jared to ride into town is starting to grow rusty when Jensen finally gives up. He takes it home and locks it in the shed out back, along with the bed that should have been in Jared's room and the name of the boy he fell so hideously in love with.
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Almost two years pass before he sees Jared again.
Jensen is working a late, late shift-the kind that he usually schedules his night owls and new employees to work and stays far, far away from himself. Today, though, he's had two people call out sick and they were already understaffed, so he dragged his ass back to work after a short nap between the morning shift and this one.
He's tired and cranky and only forty-five glorious minutes away from closing. So he hardly glances up at the table he's waiting on before barking, "What do you want?"
"Service here sure has gotten less friendly since yesterday," says the person on the other side of the booth, the one Jensen hadn't even half-acknowledged.
The voice is one he would recognize until his dying day, even if he never heard it again. It's like a bolt of lightning shoots right through him, and Jensen can't control how quickly his head snaps up, the way his arms drop to the side in the jolt of excitement.
Sure enough, the first thing he sees are teeth so big and bright he could go blind looking at them. He's so stunned stupid that he almost thinks he's gotten to the other end of this shift and then some, that the sun came up at some point without him realizing.
It's better than that, though. The kid has shot up even more than before, his always long hair shaggier now, thinner than when he last left Jensen, but still so broad he seems to take up the entire booth he's sitting at. Jensen's heart speeds up when he realizes he's at the right booth and everything. It's really him.
"Jared?" he asks dumbly, and Jared's smile mutes some, until it's just a nervous curl at the corner of his lips.
"Hey, Jensen," he says.
For a few moments, Jensen just stands there and blinks, until the other guy at the table anxiously asks, "You guys know each other?"
It's like a spell breaks, and Jensen checks back into reality to observe who it is sitting in his diner at this ridiculous hour with the boy he thought he'd lost forever. The guy is older but not unattractive, and Jensen wonders for a moment if it's Jared's dad-if Jared even has a dad, and if he does, how the bastard could dare to show his face in public after the hell he's put Jared through.
Then Jared smiles at the guy, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly, and the way the man looks back at him is decidedly not familial. It makes Jensen's stomach turn, but Jared seems fond enough, and if he's ended up with some much older boyfriend, what matters is that he's at least happy.
"Yeah, I know him," he replies. "Don't gotta worry, Mark. Jensen is good people."
The guy squirms a bit in his seat before ordering some hotcakes, leaving Jared to ask for a tuna melt with a side of fries-hold the coleslaw-and a Coke. Jensen is so baffled by the whole moment that he takes the order and heads back to the kitchen in a daze.
Two minutes later, Jensen is peeking through the order window in the kitchen and watching Jared as he says something that makes Mark laugh, his hand still holding Mark's with his thumb rubbing soothingly, as if he's trying to keep the guy at ease. Jensen feels halfway like the creep he is, half like he's having his heart stomped on by a stampede.
"Are you alright, boss?"
Jensen turns and finds Kim watching him with a raised eyebrow, her no-nonsense mom face, and hands on her hips. He backs away from the window, completely caught out, and gives her a sideways smile. "I'm fine," he says.
"There a reason you're spying on your own restaurant?" she asks. "Don't trust Adrianne not to snake the silverware now?"
"What? No!" Jensen hesitates for a moment, but he's got to know. He turns and points through the window to the corner Jared's sitting in and asks, "Has he been here before?"
Kim shrugs. "I just cook the food."
Adrianne walks in then and sees them both huddled by the window. She doesn't even pause before joining them. Adrianne did always love her gossip. "What are we looking at?"
"Jensen thinks you're stealing silverware again," Kim jokes as she takes the slip of paper Adrianne holds up for her and returns to her station at the grill.
"The spoon fell into my apron!" she says, rolling her eyes. "It's been four months. When is this going to stop being funny?"
Jensen tears his eyes away from Jared for only a moment, giving Adrianne an apologetic smile. "Probably if it hadn't fallen out and landed in your eye at the end of the night, it would already have gotten old, but…"
She sighs. "I wish it had been a knife. Then I could have sued your ass. Worker's comp or whatever. Plus, I'd get an eye patch."
"No one is going to give you money for getting stabbed by the utensils you were trying to take home with you."
"I wasn't trying to-" She narrows her eyes. "What are you doing by the window, anyway?"
He points to Jared. "Have you seen that kid here before?"
"Jared?" she asks. "Sure. He's been in during all my shifts for the last few weeks. Nice guy. Certainly more pleasant than most of the drunk losers that come in at this time. Too bad about all the…" She waves her hands in the air as if that's going to finish her sentence, then frowns. "But what are you gonna do? He's not causing problems, is he?"
"No, I…" Jensen rubs his hand over his face and looks away from her. He was about to demand how it could be that no one mentioned Jared being here before, but his brain jumps in just in time to remind him that none of the night staff would have any way to know what Jared being here would mean to him. "I know him, that’s all."
"Here, then take him his sandwich," says Kim from across the kitchen.
Jensen retrieves the food and carries it back out, rushing through the pleasantries in a way he would lecture any other employee for. He just can't find a professional balance with all the directions his emotions are flowing: joy and relief at seeing Jared, alive and healthy and smiling all the way to his crooked incisor, mixed with the sting of knowing he's been coming here for weeks but only during the shift Jensen doesn't work, and then the ugly envy when Mark holds his fork out, letting Jared try his food while his eyes go dark and focus on Jared's pretty pink mouth.
He practically drops their plates on the table and flees.
When it comes time to collect the check, he has every intention of convincing Adrianne to go out and take his place, but he can't get the words out. All he can think is that this could be it. Maybe Jared will disappear again, and Jensen really won't ever see him. At least this time he'll know to say goodbye.
Jared doesn't look as chipper now as he had when he'd first seen Jensen, but he's still smiling when he thanks him for the meal. He turns to Mark, a sweet look on his face and says, "Make sure you give Jensen a real good tip. You know, for his discretion."
"Right, of course," Mark says, still all nervous and twitchy on the other side of the table. "So appreciated."
Mark raises his head enough to give Jensen a rushed smile and then gets to sorting through his wallet for bills to pay the check. Jensen tries to leave, but he feels Jared catch his wrist and he stops right away, like a trained dog.
"Thank you," he says. "It was really delicious. Food here always has been."
"Yeah," Jensen replies. "Thanks. I'm glad…"
He chokes and shakes his head and tries to get free, but Jared won't let go. "It was so good to see you, Jensen. So good to see you."
Instead of asking why, if it's so good to see him, Jared hasn't told anyone to let Jensen know he was here or tried coming during an earlier shift, he waits for Jared to release him and then hides like the coward he is until it's time to collect the check.
ON TO PART THREE
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