Fic: To See The World in a Grain of Sand (Part 6)
Fic title: To See the World in a Grain of Sand
Author name: belledewinter
Artist name: beelikej
Genre: AU RPS Slash
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: Around 45.000
Fic Warnings: AU.
Summary: Steampunk AU. Heartbroken and eager to prove himself, Jensen Ackles makes a bet: that he will be able to go around the world in 80 days, no matter what obstacles one could find along the way.
With the aid of a man with many hidden talents who now acts as his valet and a young engineer with a dubious heritage and a disarming smile, Jensen embarks on the journey of a lifetime, not knowing that danger is always just one step behind him. Will he make it home in time?
Link to fic: Here.
Link to art: Here.
Hong Kong is a rather busy place once the doors open, and Jensen checks his watch as he decides where they will go next. Their next stop would ideally be Yokohama, and they can reach it by streamer in just a few days.
“Tonight we part,” he says. “Until then, we’ll have to pass the time.” It does not escape Jensen that Jared seems rather pleased with this. He’s looking at the city like the whole thing is out of a fairy tale, and Jensen would love to share that feeling.
“If you’ll excuse me, then,” Misha says. “I will find myself space enough to stretch my legs and something other to drink than water. Two weeks in captivity have done enough harm as it is.”
Jensen lets him go, and even manages a smile at Misha’s retreating back.
It’s in Hong Kong that Misha encounters Welling again, but it comes as such a surprise that he managed to follow them on time that at first he’s barely even aware that the two of them are in the same room together. Not that among the crowd a tall, handsome man would not stand out, for sure, but the blur of colors has him so captivated that he wouldn’t even know.
“Mr. Collins,” the agent greets, smiling pretty and wide. “You know I am always perfectly pleased to be in your company.”
Misha blinks, faking surprise and mock outrage. He stares Tom up and down, but instead of moving away like he probably should, he looks forward to the challenge.
“Are you, now? The last time we met I had the impression that you did not believe my employer would even make it past Calcutta, isn’t that right? Or was it instead that you hoped we would not make it?”
“And was I not close to the truth, in any case?” Tom says, “The way I heard it, the three of you almost died in there because of a family feud with your engineer. How is he, by the way? On his way to septicemia?”
Misha smiles, “On his way to Yokohama, more like, which I’m sure is something you already know, judging from the amount of notes you seem to have about our location at all times. Are you so fixed on it that you will let us see you as often as you please, but so cowardly that you will not stop us yourself?”
Tom looks offended, then. Misha is as pleased as the cat who got the canary.
“You are mistaken if you think I have any intention of stopping either of you. I am merely here to assure that the bet is made fairly and in the interests of all parties.”
“I am sure Lord Somerhalder is the biggest party around here.” Misha snaps. “The little I know about him already tells me that he does his best to not pay his debts and to avoid them altogether if he can. But you can mark my words, if we do not make it out alive of this, at least we’ll be giving him hell of a fright.”
“You cannot possibly think I have something personal against Ackles.”
Misha smiles. “Oh, in a way I really think you do - nothing he must have done to you, of course, but stories move faster than the wind, as from what I have heard, Somerhalder is not a person who enjoys discretion. Which means, really, more than any other thing, that what he is really looking for is an excuse to not comply to his end of the deal - if you, a respectable police officer are able to catch us at something - and you may after all have a point, then all of his problems are solved. Is that not right?”
“The bet must be made in fairness.”
Misha scoffs. “If it had, it would never have included you. The last time we saw you, you did threaten me.”
“I did not delay you very much, as you can see.”
“Your lack of ability does not mean you did not try. And now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Misha has never been one to run away, but now he wants to with all his strength.
“No, wait,” Tom says, and Misha turns to look at him like he had grown another head.
“Yes?” He asks, almost expecting Tom to hit him.
“Do you not care for a drink with me?” he says, “I have put you through all of this trouble, and all you see of me now is that I’m here to stop you. But there is very little ill towards you, I assure you. Please take the offer, your boat does not leave until tonight, and you have the whole day full of time to kill.”
Misha is nonplussed, but he’s starting to like how straightforward this man seems. Maybe he had misjudged. A policeman, after all, is really not the kind of person would expect to really cheat you out of a bet you have to work very hard for, isn’t it? Isn’t he meant to fight for all that’s fair, and isn’t Jensen of the fairest men Misha knows? (He wishes his nerves were not doing a number on him - it’s the close proximity of a man he thinks tried to kill him that’s unsettling.) “Is there really so little to see in Hong Kong that I should spend my stay in it here with you rather than drinking in the sights, the food and the rice liquor?”
Tom smiles, “There really is no reason you should be missing all of those, you know. As a matter of fact, I think you should be perfectly able to conduct yourself to one of those restaurants that serve this rice liquor you speak of. Maybe we can share?”
Misha doesn’t quite believe it. There’s something in this man, something that tells him that he should just head back his friends and tell them that he’s here and he knows where they will go to next. But he can handle it, can he not?
Misha does not refuse offers that include something as the generosity of a man who is after all not a stranger. They do not talk about the travels, it may look like they have already said a lot about it, and none of it was very pleasant when they did. Misha talks instead of his work as Jensen’s valet, and as soon as Tom hears about the protection the man needs and how they just about managed to save their skins in Calcutta, he seems so pleased and relaxed that Misha thinks he’s made a friend. Or an ally at the very least - by no means something one should shun. The rice liquor is going to his head.
It hits Misha after a while that yes, they both seem very happy, but that Tom seems so collected and his smile so wonderfully in place that it’s unlikely the man has this much tolerance to the soft rice liquor.
“Why are you smiling?” Misha asks, bold.
Tom is pleased to finally be able to say this. “Because I did not drink the wine. It was all for you, Collins, and you grabbed it with both hands - and without you, Ackes will probably not be able to make it to London in time. I do wish you a pleasant stay in Hong Kong, though - it may be quite longer than you think.”
Misha has enough time to mutter an “Oh, you little-“before he plummets to the ground.
Jared likes Hong Kong, Jensen can tell. Then again, there seems to be very little that Jared doesn’t adapt to liking - but Jensen would prefer to think that at least some of Jared’s enjoyment is partly his work. They walk the busy streets and eat noodles - something Jensen has not quite gotten a taste for, even though Jared seems to love the soup they come in with an intensity that Jensen could easily be jealous of - and poke fun at the little hats several people in the crowd wear. The day is busy and their steamer may not be ready just yet. The further they venture into the world, the faster days seem to go by. Jensen will deeply regret it when the trip is over - both if they own up to the challenge or not.
Jared is so chatty and energetic and happy, even when back home there is nothing that he has, even after what was left of his family attempted to kill him a few days back. At the moment, Jared seems mesmerized by a red and golden box of dragon-shaped biscuits, which he doesn’t ask for but that Jensen buys, of course, anyway. “Here - I think they would have followed you home if they’d been able to.”
Jared smiles. “You spoil me, and you shouldn’t.”
“There is little else to do around here,” Jensen says, even though they both know it’s a blatant lie - the shame in these trips is precisely that there is so much to do in every town they pass, so much to see, that having a day or a few hours in one place does not give them much room to do anything at all. “Besides, I do have to keep you fed - after all the trouble you managed to put us through in Bombay it would be a waste for me to have you starve.”
“So it’s just business, then,” Jared replies, but there isn’t any venom in his voice.
“Just business,” Jensen repeats, and the smile that appears on Jared’s face is well worth it. He opens the box of biscuits with reverence and offers some to Jensen. Jensen takes the treat and examines it. “I don’t even really know what these are made of.”
Jared is already chewing a small bite. “Red beans, I think. Possibly with cream.”
Jensen follows his example and takes a bite. “I like the pastry they are made with - it’s not quite sweet.”
“You don’t like sweet?” Jared asks, with a playful smile on his face.
Oh, he likes it alright - likes the way it makes Jared smile up like he has the answer to everything that’s good in the world, likes how he laughs and talks without a single trace of insincerity, likes how he feels so at home with a man he hasn’t known for very long, and who will probably never see him again after they reach London. So sweet that he could make your teeth rot, Jensen wants to say, but Jared’s looking at him so eagerly that he wouldn’t dare joke about it just in case it were true that what Jared truly craves is something Jensen cannot give.
“I would much rather stick to the things I know well.”
That seems to interest Jared, and he seems to think of his words carefully as they sit on a staircase on the road, the box of biscuits between them. “What’s your life like? In London?”
“Not as exciting as the time I’m spending here, I can assure you,” Jensen says. “You seem to think that my life in London must be very worth it, but the facts are that… it feels very strange to say it like this, but it does not quite feel like I have lived very much at all until I left town.”
“Had you lived there all your life? And you left because of a bet?”
Jensen seems to want to have a fast answer for that, but he cannot find it. “Well, in all honesty… I had always wanted to see the world. But you had seen GHOST, it pretty much broke apart as soon as we reached the Channel.”
“It was rather old and rusty,” Jared says, as if trying to amend that the poor machine pretty much burned out after the week. “If you win this bet, I’m sure you would be able to get another one, maybe the newer model.”
“I don’t really think so,” Jensen says. “That one belonged to my father. It was maybe the last thing he really grew to love, and yet in my hands it managed to fall apart.”
“It was not your fault, Jensen. Things break - and the lack of use for twenty years probably helped, so I don’t really think your father would have held it against you.”
Jensen laughs, “Oh, not the machine, that’s not what the problem was. My father could care less about the things that you could buy, it’s what you do with them that matters.”
“What do you mean?” Jared asks, popping another biscuit in his mouth.
“I mean… that what would matter to him is the fact that I did not take it in twenty years. I let it rust and catch dust, and in twenty years I did not think of really using it at all. He would have been proud to see me destroy it with use, for sure - but see it waste away, that would have really offended him.”
See it waste away. Jensen wants to think of the machine, but he cannot. What would his parents have said if they had known how Jensen had lived the whole time, alone in his house, barely ever leaving it, managing his finances and state with so much clarity and care and routine that - obviously - his fortune stayed as it was for lack of any use. It was not wasted on useless pleasures, but it was not used to help others, either. Others like Jared, for example, who barely had enough to eat back in London. Leaving something unused was the fastest way to really turn it useless.
And for such a long, long time, Jensen had thought it was the same with him.
That he would not care, that he was incapable of it. That he did not wish to pay much attention to the friends he had back in London - if he did not care much for them, they would leave him alone, but on the way, he’d pretty much forgotten that he did not like to be alone. It seemed too much to all of a sudden just go out into the world, having to deal with companions every waking hour and having to adapt suddenly to a new town almost every day.
Too much.
“I think it went in the best possible way, then,” Jared says. “Things are… things, after all. But what you are doing, that’s the true adventure. What will you do when you win your bet, Jensen?”
Jensen had not really thought about it yet. All he could think of, really, was the fact that Somerhalder had bet everything he owned against Jensen. And among the things he owned back then was probably Jensen’s heart, maybe small and used and (for a while) turned black in his hands. But now all of that seemed to have gone past him. Somerhalder had really no hold on him while he was here, and he had shown himself to be darker and colder than Jensen had ever thought. It had seemed like such a sad thing that he would barely talk to Jensen back at the Club, but now, if their schedule was right, he would have his honor restored (if there was still the care for that) and then a sum of money Jensen really had no need for.
“What would you spend all that money on?” He asks Jared, “Who do you think needs it most?”
Jared laughs, “Back in London, everyone needs it, Jensen. Most people, anyway. I think you have met only those who have their back covered and don’t have to worry about things like a hot plate of food or a place to sleep. But you know, I have, and tell you what - having taken this job it’s the first time in years I’ve had three meals a day and a place to sleep with a roof over my head. So you know… I think you could just point your finger in any direction and send the money to the family or the school or the factory workers that you find, and they would find… not just the use for it, but also the blessing of not having to work so hard just to have what they need to survive.”
Jensen wants to die at that, just so slightly. He’d always assumed that… well, people had what they needed. He had never been so stupid as to think everyone had what he did, but then again, people who worked for him did eat fairly often. The reality of factories and streets of starving families seemed like something so distant that he had not really thought about it at all - if ever in his life. His father would have been displeased at that, to say the least. Had the man not told him repeatedly to look closely, to never miss his surroundings?
“Jared,” Jensen starts, “When we get to London, if we do make it, I want you to decide what we do with the money. I don’t really care if you want to keep it or give it to the poor, or to a hospital or to the orphanage. You can do whatever you want with it. I kind of wish now that my bet had been against you and not Somerhalder, since that way at least I would know that the money would be used for something good.”
Jared smiles up at that, but it doesn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. “You speak sometimes like you had already lost. Please don’t. Until we get to London and you check that stupid watch of yours, I don’t want you saying that again. You will get to London in time, and you will take the reward and give it to… orphans, I think… and then you will be able to spend the rest of your life deciding what you really want to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… if I may say so, you do not seem very pleased with the life you had back in London. You make it sound like it was terribly boring, and yes, it may be so. But wouldn’t you like to change it if that were the case? When you have the money and the time, really, what stops you?”
Not having something to live for, Jensen thinks. Not really wanting for anything can make you want nothing at all. I’ve been living my life in neutral, he wants to say, and for the stupidest reason I have gotten back in the game.
Jensen smiles. “You don’t really know what you’re saying, Jared. I’m not saying by any means that you have it easy - I know that it must be very hard for you, but I had never before learnt to,” To live, Jensen thinks, I had never before learned to live, “really get my head in order and decide what I want. I would like… I don’t know, right now I would not mind to stay like this forever, sitting on some stairs in Hong Kong eating biscuits with you, waiting for Misha to appear.” It surprises him the way the words seem to flow from his lips, like they’d been trapped in there for so long that now he cannot stop them for their force. “It’s the first time in years when I truly don’t want to make it back home, even if the whole point of this trip was to be able to get home in time. I don’t even know what my point was in the first place, I don’t even mind about making it.”
“I think it was something about the times changing and the fact that you can go around the world in more or less three months.”
Jensen laughs, “And who even cares about that?”
“Somerhalder did.”
“Somerhalder is an idiot.” Jensen says, and the moment it comes out of his lips, he knows it to be the ultimate truth. “Somerhalder has always thought only of himself during all his life, and he dismisses everything, including the world and its progress. I think it was that that made me tick, you know? His disdain. For something so obvious and important as man’s ability to travel so fast to the other side of the world. Why he would even want to bet against it escapes me.”
“Because it would frustrate you,” Jared ventures. “You do know a lot about places, after all.” Jared offers another biscuit that Jensen takes, but does not eat. “He knows that it’s something you care about - how long did it take you to calculate our route, after all? You know how to travel, how long it takes, the path to follow. You knew all of those things, and I wouldn’t even know where to start to get out of this city, right now. It was a bet made just for you, Jensen. And he hit the bull’s-eye, didn’t he?”
“So you are saying he did it just to annoy me, and he was right?”
“I’m saying he did it to hurt you,” and then very quietly and leaning into Jensen, almost like they are conspiring in the middle of the road - and they are, really, aren’t they, even if Somerhalder could not even dream of what they are saying - “And I’m saying that it’s going to blow up right in his face.”
Jensen could not be more pleased about that, of course, and Jared seems so satisfied with the response that he lingers just a few seconds too close to Jensen. Jensen can feel the warmth of his skin through the cloth at their joined shoulders, the ghost of his breath at his neck. The way his smile could curl against his kin if only he were the smallest bit closer, and it seems so easy and so close, almost like reaching London in just a few weeks. Jared makes everything so easy and so worth it that Jensen doesn’t honestly care about Somerhalder or his bet or if it will really blow up in his face, or if he will even care.
Jensen doesn’t.
Not with Jared standing too close and too happy, so ready to fight Jensen’s battles that he cannot bring himself to tell him that he’s already done everything Jensen wanted, and that if it were in Jensen’s hands, he would never leave his side. But never is such a long time, isn’t it. And they barely have those few months.
What would happen if they got back to London and he asked Jared to stay with him? Would it be something the neighbors would whisper about? Would they just assume that Jensen had given him a job? What if he really did give the man a job, something simpler and safer that he could eat on and get on with a life that would not be as hard?
He’s sure that Jared would not pass up a good chance, but Jensen is not sure of what it would mean. Surely Jared would not want to stay FOR HIM, and Jensen could not force him. Not that he would ever try.
In any case, Jensen is not thinking about Somerhalder anymore, and he’s almost annoyed that he seems to appear in conversation once in a while, but rather than tug at his chest, it makes him roll his eyes because Jared should not even know who the man is, and yet he still seems to know his motives all too well. And Jensen will let him say anything he wants - anything at all - because he does hang on to everything Jared says.
And it’s such a relief.
“I’m going to miss you when we get to London, you know,” Jensen says, and he hates the fact that Jared makes him loosen his hold on his own emotions with such ease.
Jared stares. Looks at him like it was the first time he truly saw Jensen, like he had discovered something new and impossible. He leans in closer, eyes locked with Jensen’s in absolute incredulity. Jensen thinks of taking a step back. When he tries to pass his words off as a joke, to soften them, the words never make it out his mouth. He can’t, he doesn’t want to, and from Jared’s face, neither would Jared.
“Missing me is entirely up to you.”
A few seconds go past and the meaning sinks in - something Jensen takes in with disbelief. He cannot possibly mean, he cannot be saying what he thinks. Before Jensen can say anything in response, it’s Jared who seems to break the spell and get up, discard the empty box of biscuits, and take a step away. Jensen shakes his head and attempts to shake off the moment with blank look. “Where shall we go to next?”
Jared seems slightly put out, but he still follows Jensen’s lead. What had he expected Jensen to say next? Had he wanted a response? What could Jensen have said? What if he had meant it as something purely innocent? Was Jensen trying to look too much into it? (No, you aren’t, that look could not have been mistaken - it all falls into place now, the moment by the engines, the rescue in India, every little moment since they pretty much took off.)
Jared is doing his best to sound cheerful, but the smile does not reach his eyes and it does not escape Jensen that he seems to be putting on a show for his benefit. “There is a place with cakes we walked past a while back. Do you mind if we go again?”
Jensen nods. “Of course.”
They walk in silence, but when their shoulders bump together when they walk and neither of them moves away, Jensen has to hide his smile.
Misha wakes up.
Well, not really wakes up, it’s more like he’s slammed awake. He finds himself in a dark alley that sticky with something he really doesn’t want to look at, he’s lost his coat and when he pats himself he finds he is without his wallet. Fantastic, Misha thinks. But most of his anger can be directed at Welling - oh, if only the man was still here so Misha could give him a piece of his mind. He thinks of that pretty, pretty face that he’ll change completely and - ouch.
Much to his dismay he cannot quite focus on anything that’s ahead of him. He walks slowly hanging on to the dirty walls, and he notices with alarm that it’s getting dark. The busy street he sees is starting to get filled with lights that guard off the night just for a while longer.
He makes an attempt to communicate with a passing man, but the little response they can offer him seems more on the lines of, “Are you alright?” than any indication of how he could have ended up here. He doesn’t know this street - and the place where he was last drinking is most definitely not anywhere in sight. He wonders how Welling managed to carry him away so fast and without anyone noticing, but there are quite a few carriages walking past, and he figures that if he had really wanted to hide someone and had the money for it, all he’d had to do was ask.
Misha doesn’t know where he is, and doesn’t know his way back. His mind is blurred and all he wants to do is sit back down again, no matter where - and that’s if he manages to stay up for long enough. His eyes are starting to cloud over and it takes all his strength to stay awake. And oh, he doesn’t have to ask to know the docks are, of course. For him at this very second there is very little doubt that they are probably pretty far away.
He takes a deep breath, squares himself for the headache he is going to have sooner than he’d like, and starts to walk.
A short while later, Jensen’s again standing at the docks with Jared, the two of them waiting patiently for Misha to arrive. Their afternoon has, after all, not been as awkward as Jensen would have thought. Their silence is something the two of them can blame on the rush and the fact that they are tired. That they can rest it off as soon as they get into the steamer, but oh, Jensen doesn’t know for how long that will last until one of them once again oversteps the line.
And the truth is, he cannot wait for it to happen again.
He checks his watch, and he notices that Misha is at this point being pretty late, and if he doesn’t rush, so will the two of them. He can see the worried frown on Jared’s face, worriedly pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. “Do you think he got lost?” Jared asks.
Jensen seems at a loss. “Misha doesn’t seem the type to get often lost, but much to my dismay, I don’t think we can wait for him much longer. If the steamer leaves without is there is a very big chance that we will have to wait until tomorrow and miss our connection in Yokohama.”
The captain is making the last call to get on the steamer, and Jared turns toward the noise as if stung. “Is there no way we can make him wait just for a while?”
Jensen shakes his head. “You know that Welling is after us. Misha said, before we left the zeppelin, that we should not wait for him if he was late. Misha knows where we are going. Hopefully he will take the next steamer and he will meet us in Yokohama just in time, there is very little else we can do, considering our schedule. In all honesty, I don’t even know where to start looking for him, and it’s not like we have the time for it.”
Jensen makes the gesture to climb on board. “Let’s go, Jared. We will see him soon, I’m sure he’ll be able to find his way back to us.”
“It’s not-“ Jared starts, “I’m not worried that he won’t find us, Jensen. It’s the why. Do you think that Welling found him?”
Jensen sighs, and does his best to stay under control, just as the door shuts behind them, and the thing takes off. “Yes, I think he could have.”
The way to the ferry seems eternal for Misha, but he ends up making it there not that many hours after Jensen and his steamer have left. He waits for the next ferry just barely, without a ticket and without money, but he knows that, even though his clouded mind does not let him quite find it out, there must be a detail he’s forgetting and that’s relevant.
He discards that thought - it will come to him when he comes back to his senses, and for now plans to steal a uniform. He really hoped he would not have to resort to this again, after so long, but hey, what’s one last time before one stays with a respectable master. (Well, respectable. Misha thinks after the way they all ran they have lost whatever dignity they could have had, and that in any case, as Jensen had said, survive it all. If this is not survival Misha doesn’t know what it is.)
The water is very still until it starts to ripple, almost like something is about to crawl out to the surface from the depths of the sea. The white crest of the waves starts to form, rises and falls with the arrival. Misha is forgetting something, he’s forgetting something like this, he’s thinking about the depths and the ripples and a giant squid, and at the first trace of metal beneath the water he can finally see.
Ah, yes. The man he learnt everything from.
The moon is high up in the sky when Jensen looks out the small window in their cabin. He has not spoken to Jared ever since they found their rooms, unsure of what to say, and doubting he would have something to say at all.
He’s worries about Misha, for sure. How could he not be, when he knows Somerhalder had something planned? That Welling was after them like a hound? He did not doubt that Misha would be alright. It did not mean Jensen could not worry.
He asked on his way in about the steamboats that would reach Yokohama - apparently no others did until a few days after, which would be giving Jensen too many hours ahead of the schedule in comparison to Misha, but the ferries that come and go are, despite slower, much more abundant. He guesses Misha would have been smart and taken one of those. With some luck the difference in their arrival will only be a few hours, time enough for all of them to meet and catch a boat to San Francisco if they can.
What was the name of that friend Misha said he had who travelled the world? Must have been nobody. “Nobody”, that’s something that Misha remembers, and he doesn’t know why. It was probably the cryptic response that Misha gave. Jensen can’t quite put his finger in it. But Misha is still smart and resourceful, and if he can remember just the slightest bit about his schedule, they will all reach Yokohama without a problem. It will be something Jensen has to worry about when they reach the city, in any case, because on the steamer there is so little Jensen can do.
There is a knock at his door, and he rushes to open it, not caring that his shirt is half in disarray or that a Lord should not present himself in that way. He would be quick to excuse it, since his valet has, after all, gone missing. Propriety is thrown out the window, though, when what he finds instead is Jared, looking tired and worn.
“I cannot sleep,” Jared says bluntly and still standing at the door or the small chamber, eyes wild and red-rimmed. “I’m worried sick about Misha, I don’t know - I don’t know what can happen to him. Do you think he will be alright?”
Jensen welcomes him and closes the door behind him. “I could not tell you for certain, but I think if an accident had befallen him we would have found out before we left Hong Kong. It may sound strange, but do not worry, in that case, because I doubt that Misha would have suffered any harm.”
Jared seems to make an effort to breathe. “I think he had a friend who went to Hong Kong regularly. Do you think his friend would have been able to help him?”
Jensen frowns. “I thought about it as well. I could not have said for sure. But tell you what, I’m fairly sure that if Misha is not able to follow us on time to Yokohama, we will find him in London when we return. I would certainly not put it past him to be able to return home safely, if that helps. Do you not agree?”
Jared smiles, despite himself, and looking so tired it makes him appear even younger than he is. He sighs and turns back to the door. “You’re right. I should have not bothered you.” Jensen finds himself wishing he had not shaken off his trouble so easily, even though he does feel relief that it seems the two fo them share the certainty that Misha will make their way back to them soon enough. “So then… for now we wait.”
“It will be less than a week, Jared,” Jensen says. Less than a week just the two of them, then. Less than a week of something in the air he can’t quire place and that yet he’s perfectly certain of. “Take some time to rest if you can, at the moment there is little more we can do, anyway.”
“I don’t think I would be able to sleep right now,” Jared says. “The constant reminder that we’re almost late does not really give me room to think of much other than the deadline and the possibility that we may yet not make it.”
Jensen smiles. “That should be my problem more than yours.”
Jared does not really return the smile, but he seems amused by the response. “I’m afraid now it’s the problem for the two of us.”
He’s standing so close and with such ease that Jensen could almost kiss him. Almost, if he moved just an inch, and he has a second to feel the air turn electric right before it’s Jared who leans in and kisses him, tentative, and after a second that seems to stretch forever takes another step back. With that, he leaves the room, and as he closes the door he sends Jensen a look that promises so much. And Jensen would lie if he said he was not, despite it all, fairly satisfied.
Author name: belledewinter
Artist name: beelikej
Genre: AU RPS Slash
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: Around 45.000
Fic Warnings: AU.
Summary: Steampunk AU. Heartbroken and eager to prove himself, Jensen Ackles makes a bet: that he will be able to go around the world in 80 days, no matter what obstacles one could find along the way.
With the aid of a man with many hidden talents who now acts as his valet and a young engineer with a dubious heritage and a disarming smile, Jensen embarks on the journey of a lifetime, not knowing that danger is always just one step behind him. Will he make it home in time?
Link to fic: Here.
Link to art: Here.
Hong Kong is a rather busy place once the doors open, and Jensen checks his watch as he decides where they will go next. Their next stop would ideally be Yokohama, and they can reach it by streamer in just a few days.
“Tonight we part,” he says. “Until then, we’ll have to pass the time.” It does not escape Jensen that Jared seems rather pleased with this. He’s looking at the city like the whole thing is out of a fairy tale, and Jensen would love to share that feeling.
“If you’ll excuse me, then,” Misha says. “I will find myself space enough to stretch my legs and something other to drink than water. Two weeks in captivity have done enough harm as it is.”
Jensen lets him go, and even manages a smile at Misha’s retreating back.
It’s in Hong Kong that Misha encounters Welling again, but it comes as such a surprise that he managed to follow them on time that at first he’s barely even aware that the two of them are in the same room together. Not that among the crowd a tall, handsome man would not stand out, for sure, but the blur of colors has him so captivated that he wouldn’t even know.
“Mr. Collins,” the agent greets, smiling pretty and wide. “You know I am always perfectly pleased to be in your company.”
Misha blinks, faking surprise and mock outrage. He stares Tom up and down, but instead of moving away like he probably should, he looks forward to the challenge.
“Are you, now? The last time we met I had the impression that you did not believe my employer would even make it past Calcutta, isn’t that right? Or was it instead that you hoped we would not make it?”
“And was I not close to the truth, in any case?” Tom says, “The way I heard it, the three of you almost died in there because of a family feud with your engineer. How is he, by the way? On his way to septicemia?”
Misha smiles, “On his way to Yokohama, more like, which I’m sure is something you already know, judging from the amount of notes you seem to have about our location at all times. Are you so fixed on it that you will let us see you as often as you please, but so cowardly that you will not stop us yourself?”
Tom looks offended, then. Misha is as pleased as the cat who got the canary.
“You are mistaken if you think I have any intention of stopping either of you. I am merely here to assure that the bet is made fairly and in the interests of all parties.”
“I am sure Lord Somerhalder is the biggest party around here.” Misha snaps. “The little I know about him already tells me that he does his best to not pay his debts and to avoid them altogether if he can. But you can mark my words, if we do not make it out alive of this, at least we’ll be giving him hell of a fright.”
“You cannot possibly think I have something personal against Ackles.”
Misha smiles. “Oh, in a way I really think you do - nothing he must have done to you, of course, but stories move faster than the wind, as from what I have heard, Somerhalder is not a person who enjoys discretion. Which means, really, more than any other thing, that what he is really looking for is an excuse to not comply to his end of the deal - if you, a respectable police officer are able to catch us at something - and you may after all have a point, then all of his problems are solved. Is that not right?”
“The bet must be made in fairness.”
Misha scoffs. “If it had, it would never have included you. The last time we saw you, you did threaten me.”
“I did not delay you very much, as you can see.”
“Your lack of ability does not mean you did not try. And now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Misha has never been one to run away, but now he wants to with all his strength.
“No, wait,” Tom says, and Misha turns to look at him like he had grown another head.
“Yes?” He asks, almost expecting Tom to hit him.
“Do you not care for a drink with me?” he says, “I have put you through all of this trouble, and all you see of me now is that I’m here to stop you. But there is very little ill towards you, I assure you. Please take the offer, your boat does not leave until tonight, and you have the whole day full of time to kill.”
Misha is nonplussed, but he’s starting to like how straightforward this man seems. Maybe he had misjudged. A policeman, after all, is really not the kind of person would expect to really cheat you out of a bet you have to work very hard for, isn’t it? Isn’t he meant to fight for all that’s fair, and isn’t Jensen of the fairest men Misha knows? (He wishes his nerves were not doing a number on him - it’s the close proximity of a man he thinks tried to kill him that’s unsettling.) “Is there really so little to see in Hong Kong that I should spend my stay in it here with you rather than drinking in the sights, the food and the rice liquor?”
Tom smiles, “There really is no reason you should be missing all of those, you know. As a matter of fact, I think you should be perfectly able to conduct yourself to one of those restaurants that serve this rice liquor you speak of. Maybe we can share?”
Misha doesn’t quite believe it. There’s something in this man, something that tells him that he should just head back his friends and tell them that he’s here and he knows where they will go to next. But he can handle it, can he not?
Misha does not refuse offers that include something as the generosity of a man who is after all not a stranger. They do not talk about the travels, it may look like they have already said a lot about it, and none of it was very pleasant when they did. Misha talks instead of his work as Jensen’s valet, and as soon as Tom hears about the protection the man needs and how they just about managed to save their skins in Calcutta, he seems so pleased and relaxed that Misha thinks he’s made a friend. Or an ally at the very least - by no means something one should shun. The rice liquor is going to his head.
It hits Misha after a while that yes, they both seem very happy, but that Tom seems so collected and his smile so wonderfully in place that it’s unlikely the man has this much tolerance to the soft rice liquor.
“Why are you smiling?” Misha asks, bold.
Tom is pleased to finally be able to say this. “Because I did not drink the wine. It was all for you, Collins, and you grabbed it with both hands - and without you, Ackes will probably not be able to make it to London in time. I do wish you a pleasant stay in Hong Kong, though - it may be quite longer than you think.”
Misha has enough time to mutter an “Oh, you little-“before he plummets to the ground.
Jared likes Hong Kong, Jensen can tell. Then again, there seems to be very little that Jared doesn’t adapt to liking - but Jensen would prefer to think that at least some of Jared’s enjoyment is partly his work. They walk the busy streets and eat noodles - something Jensen has not quite gotten a taste for, even though Jared seems to love the soup they come in with an intensity that Jensen could easily be jealous of - and poke fun at the little hats several people in the crowd wear. The day is busy and their steamer may not be ready just yet. The further they venture into the world, the faster days seem to go by. Jensen will deeply regret it when the trip is over - both if they own up to the challenge or not.
Jared is so chatty and energetic and happy, even when back home there is nothing that he has, even after what was left of his family attempted to kill him a few days back. At the moment, Jared seems mesmerized by a red and golden box of dragon-shaped biscuits, which he doesn’t ask for but that Jensen buys, of course, anyway. “Here - I think they would have followed you home if they’d been able to.”
Jared smiles. “You spoil me, and you shouldn’t.”
“There is little else to do around here,” Jensen says, even though they both know it’s a blatant lie - the shame in these trips is precisely that there is so much to do in every town they pass, so much to see, that having a day or a few hours in one place does not give them much room to do anything at all. “Besides, I do have to keep you fed - after all the trouble you managed to put us through in Bombay it would be a waste for me to have you starve.”
“So it’s just business, then,” Jared replies, but there isn’t any venom in his voice.
“Just business,” Jensen repeats, and the smile that appears on Jared’s face is well worth it. He opens the box of biscuits with reverence and offers some to Jensen. Jensen takes the treat and examines it. “I don’t even really know what these are made of.”
Jared is already chewing a small bite. “Red beans, I think. Possibly with cream.”
Jensen follows his example and takes a bite. “I like the pastry they are made with - it’s not quite sweet.”
“You don’t like sweet?” Jared asks, with a playful smile on his face.
Oh, he likes it alright - likes the way it makes Jared smile up like he has the answer to everything that’s good in the world, likes how he laughs and talks without a single trace of insincerity, likes how he feels so at home with a man he hasn’t known for very long, and who will probably never see him again after they reach London. So sweet that he could make your teeth rot, Jensen wants to say, but Jared’s looking at him so eagerly that he wouldn’t dare joke about it just in case it were true that what Jared truly craves is something Jensen cannot give.
“I would much rather stick to the things I know well.”
That seems to interest Jared, and he seems to think of his words carefully as they sit on a staircase on the road, the box of biscuits between them. “What’s your life like? In London?”
“Not as exciting as the time I’m spending here, I can assure you,” Jensen says. “You seem to think that my life in London must be very worth it, but the facts are that… it feels very strange to say it like this, but it does not quite feel like I have lived very much at all until I left town.”
“Had you lived there all your life? And you left because of a bet?”
Jensen seems to want to have a fast answer for that, but he cannot find it. “Well, in all honesty… I had always wanted to see the world. But you had seen GHOST, it pretty much broke apart as soon as we reached the Channel.”
“It was rather old and rusty,” Jared says, as if trying to amend that the poor machine pretty much burned out after the week. “If you win this bet, I’m sure you would be able to get another one, maybe the newer model.”
“I don’t really think so,” Jensen says. “That one belonged to my father. It was maybe the last thing he really grew to love, and yet in my hands it managed to fall apart.”
“It was not your fault, Jensen. Things break - and the lack of use for twenty years probably helped, so I don’t really think your father would have held it against you.”
Jensen laughs, “Oh, not the machine, that’s not what the problem was. My father could care less about the things that you could buy, it’s what you do with them that matters.”
“What do you mean?” Jared asks, popping another biscuit in his mouth.
“I mean… that what would matter to him is the fact that I did not take it in twenty years. I let it rust and catch dust, and in twenty years I did not think of really using it at all. He would have been proud to see me destroy it with use, for sure - but see it waste away, that would have really offended him.”
See it waste away. Jensen wants to think of the machine, but he cannot. What would his parents have said if they had known how Jensen had lived the whole time, alone in his house, barely ever leaving it, managing his finances and state with so much clarity and care and routine that - obviously - his fortune stayed as it was for lack of any use. It was not wasted on useless pleasures, but it was not used to help others, either. Others like Jared, for example, who barely had enough to eat back in London. Leaving something unused was the fastest way to really turn it useless.
And for such a long, long time, Jensen had thought it was the same with him.
That he would not care, that he was incapable of it. That he did not wish to pay much attention to the friends he had back in London - if he did not care much for them, they would leave him alone, but on the way, he’d pretty much forgotten that he did not like to be alone. It seemed too much to all of a sudden just go out into the world, having to deal with companions every waking hour and having to adapt suddenly to a new town almost every day.
Too much.
“I think it went in the best possible way, then,” Jared says. “Things are… things, after all. But what you are doing, that’s the true adventure. What will you do when you win your bet, Jensen?”
Jensen had not really thought about it yet. All he could think of, really, was the fact that Somerhalder had bet everything he owned against Jensen. And among the things he owned back then was probably Jensen’s heart, maybe small and used and (for a while) turned black in his hands. But now all of that seemed to have gone past him. Somerhalder had really no hold on him while he was here, and he had shown himself to be darker and colder than Jensen had ever thought. It had seemed like such a sad thing that he would barely talk to Jensen back at the Club, but now, if their schedule was right, he would have his honor restored (if there was still the care for that) and then a sum of money Jensen really had no need for.
“What would you spend all that money on?” He asks Jared, “Who do you think needs it most?”
Jared laughs, “Back in London, everyone needs it, Jensen. Most people, anyway. I think you have met only those who have their back covered and don’t have to worry about things like a hot plate of food or a place to sleep. But you know, I have, and tell you what - having taken this job it’s the first time in years I’ve had three meals a day and a place to sleep with a roof over my head. So you know… I think you could just point your finger in any direction and send the money to the family or the school or the factory workers that you find, and they would find… not just the use for it, but also the blessing of not having to work so hard just to have what they need to survive.”
Jensen wants to die at that, just so slightly. He’d always assumed that… well, people had what they needed. He had never been so stupid as to think everyone had what he did, but then again, people who worked for him did eat fairly often. The reality of factories and streets of starving families seemed like something so distant that he had not really thought about it at all - if ever in his life. His father would have been displeased at that, to say the least. Had the man not told him repeatedly to look closely, to never miss his surroundings?
“Jared,” Jensen starts, “When we get to London, if we do make it, I want you to decide what we do with the money. I don’t really care if you want to keep it or give it to the poor, or to a hospital or to the orphanage. You can do whatever you want with it. I kind of wish now that my bet had been against you and not Somerhalder, since that way at least I would know that the money would be used for something good.”
Jared smiles up at that, but it doesn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. “You speak sometimes like you had already lost. Please don’t. Until we get to London and you check that stupid watch of yours, I don’t want you saying that again. You will get to London in time, and you will take the reward and give it to… orphans, I think… and then you will be able to spend the rest of your life deciding what you really want to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… if I may say so, you do not seem very pleased with the life you had back in London. You make it sound like it was terribly boring, and yes, it may be so. But wouldn’t you like to change it if that were the case? When you have the money and the time, really, what stops you?”
Not having something to live for, Jensen thinks. Not really wanting for anything can make you want nothing at all. I’ve been living my life in neutral, he wants to say, and for the stupidest reason I have gotten back in the game.
Jensen smiles. “You don’t really know what you’re saying, Jared. I’m not saying by any means that you have it easy - I know that it must be very hard for you, but I had never before learnt to,” To live, Jensen thinks, I had never before learned to live, “really get my head in order and decide what I want. I would like… I don’t know, right now I would not mind to stay like this forever, sitting on some stairs in Hong Kong eating biscuits with you, waiting for Misha to appear.” It surprises him the way the words seem to flow from his lips, like they’d been trapped in there for so long that now he cannot stop them for their force. “It’s the first time in years when I truly don’t want to make it back home, even if the whole point of this trip was to be able to get home in time. I don’t even know what my point was in the first place, I don’t even mind about making it.”
“I think it was something about the times changing and the fact that you can go around the world in more or less three months.”
Jensen laughs, “And who even cares about that?”
“Somerhalder did.”
“Somerhalder is an idiot.” Jensen says, and the moment it comes out of his lips, he knows it to be the ultimate truth. “Somerhalder has always thought only of himself during all his life, and he dismisses everything, including the world and its progress. I think it was that that made me tick, you know? His disdain. For something so obvious and important as man’s ability to travel so fast to the other side of the world. Why he would even want to bet against it escapes me.”
“Because it would frustrate you,” Jared ventures. “You do know a lot about places, after all.” Jared offers another biscuit that Jensen takes, but does not eat. “He knows that it’s something you care about - how long did it take you to calculate our route, after all? You know how to travel, how long it takes, the path to follow. You knew all of those things, and I wouldn’t even know where to start to get out of this city, right now. It was a bet made just for you, Jensen. And he hit the bull’s-eye, didn’t he?”
“So you are saying he did it just to annoy me, and he was right?”
“I’m saying he did it to hurt you,” and then very quietly and leaning into Jensen, almost like they are conspiring in the middle of the road - and they are, really, aren’t they, even if Somerhalder could not even dream of what they are saying - “And I’m saying that it’s going to blow up right in his face.”
Jensen could not be more pleased about that, of course, and Jared seems so satisfied with the response that he lingers just a few seconds too close to Jensen. Jensen can feel the warmth of his skin through the cloth at their joined shoulders, the ghost of his breath at his neck. The way his smile could curl against his kin if only he were the smallest bit closer, and it seems so easy and so close, almost like reaching London in just a few weeks. Jared makes everything so easy and so worth it that Jensen doesn’t honestly care about Somerhalder or his bet or if it will really blow up in his face, or if he will even care.
Jensen doesn’t.
Not with Jared standing too close and too happy, so ready to fight Jensen’s battles that he cannot bring himself to tell him that he’s already done everything Jensen wanted, and that if it were in Jensen’s hands, he would never leave his side. But never is such a long time, isn’t it. And they barely have those few months.
What would happen if they got back to London and he asked Jared to stay with him? Would it be something the neighbors would whisper about? Would they just assume that Jensen had given him a job? What if he really did give the man a job, something simpler and safer that he could eat on and get on with a life that would not be as hard?
He’s sure that Jared would not pass up a good chance, but Jensen is not sure of what it would mean. Surely Jared would not want to stay FOR HIM, and Jensen could not force him. Not that he would ever try.
In any case, Jensen is not thinking about Somerhalder anymore, and he’s almost annoyed that he seems to appear in conversation once in a while, but rather than tug at his chest, it makes him roll his eyes because Jared should not even know who the man is, and yet he still seems to know his motives all too well. And Jensen will let him say anything he wants - anything at all - because he does hang on to everything Jared says.
And it’s such a relief.
“I’m going to miss you when we get to London, you know,” Jensen says, and he hates the fact that Jared makes him loosen his hold on his own emotions with such ease.
Jared stares. Looks at him like it was the first time he truly saw Jensen, like he had discovered something new and impossible. He leans in closer, eyes locked with Jensen’s in absolute incredulity. Jensen thinks of taking a step back. When he tries to pass his words off as a joke, to soften them, the words never make it out his mouth. He can’t, he doesn’t want to, and from Jared’s face, neither would Jared.
“Missing me is entirely up to you.”
A few seconds go past and the meaning sinks in - something Jensen takes in with disbelief. He cannot possibly mean, he cannot be saying what he thinks. Before Jensen can say anything in response, it’s Jared who seems to break the spell and get up, discard the empty box of biscuits, and take a step away. Jensen shakes his head and attempts to shake off the moment with blank look. “Where shall we go to next?”
Jared seems slightly put out, but he still follows Jensen’s lead. What had he expected Jensen to say next? Had he wanted a response? What could Jensen have said? What if he had meant it as something purely innocent? Was Jensen trying to look too much into it? (No, you aren’t, that look could not have been mistaken - it all falls into place now, the moment by the engines, the rescue in India, every little moment since they pretty much took off.)
Jared is doing his best to sound cheerful, but the smile does not reach his eyes and it does not escape Jensen that he seems to be putting on a show for his benefit. “There is a place with cakes we walked past a while back. Do you mind if we go again?”
Jensen nods. “Of course.”
They walk in silence, but when their shoulders bump together when they walk and neither of them moves away, Jensen has to hide his smile.
Misha wakes up.
Well, not really wakes up, it’s more like he’s slammed awake. He finds himself in a dark alley that sticky with something he really doesn’t want to look at, he’s lost his coat and when he pats himself he finds he is without his wallet. Fantastic, Misha thinks. But most of his anger can be directed at Welling - oh, if only the man was still here so Misha could give him a piece of his mind. He thinks of that pretty, pretty face that he’ll change completely and - ouch.
Much to his dismay he cannot quite focus on anything that’s ahead of him. He walks slowly hanging on to the dirty walls, and he notices with alarm that it’s getting dark. The busy street he sees is starting to get filled with lights that guard off the night just for a while longer.
He makes an attempt to communicate with a passing man, but the little response they can offer him seems more on the lines of, “Are you alright?” than any indication of how he could have ended up here. He doesn’t know this street - and the place where he was last drinking is most definitely not anywhere in sight. He wonders how Welling managed to carry him away so fast and without anyone noticing, but there are quite a few carriages walking past, and he figures that if he had really wanted to hide someone and had the money for it, all he’d had to do was ask.
Misha doesn’t know where he is, and doesn’t know his way back. His mind is blurred and all he wants to do is sit back down again, no matter where - and that’s if he manages to stay up for long enough. His eyes are starting to cloud over and it takes all his strength to stay awake. And oh, he doesn’t have to ask to know the docks are, of course. For him at this very second there is very little doubt that they are probably pretty far away.
He takes a deep breath, squares himself for the headache he is going to have sooner than he’d like, and starts to walk.
A short while later, Jensen’s again standing at the docks with Jared, the two of them waiting patiently for Misha to arrive. Their afternoon has, after all, not been as awkward as Jensen would have thought. Their silence is something the two of them can blame on the rush and the fact that they are tired. That they can rest it off as soon as they get into the steamer, but oh, Jensen doesn’t know for how long that will last until one of them once again oversteps the line.
And the truth is, he cannot wait for it to happen again.
He checks his watch, and he notices that Misha is at this point being pretty late, and if he doesn’t rush, so will the two of them. He can see the worried frown on Jared’s face, worriedly pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. “Do you think he got lost?” Jared asks.
Jensen seems at a loss. “Misha doesn’t seem the type to get often lost, but much to my dismay, I don’t think we can wait for him much longer. If the steamer leaves without is there is a very big chance that we will have to wait until tomorrow and miss our connection in Yokohama.”
The captain is making the last call to get on the steamer, and Jared turns toward the noise as if stung. “Is there no way we can make him wait just for a while?”
Jensen shakes his head. “You know that Welling is after us. Misha said, before we left the zeppelin, that we should not wait for him if he was late. Misha knows where we are going. Hopefully he will take the next steamer and he will meet us in Yokohama just in time, there is very little else we can do, considering our schedule. In all honesty, I don’t even know where to start looking for him, and it’s not like we have the time for it.”
Jensen makes the gesture to climb on board. “Let’s go, Jared. We will see him soon, I’m sure he’ll be able to find his way back to us.”
“It’s not-“ Jared starts, “I’m not worried that he won’t find us, Jensen. It’s the why. Do you think that Welling found him?”
Jensen sighs, and does his best to stay under control, just as the door shuts behind them, and the thing takes off. “Yes, I think he could have.”
The way to the ferry seems eternal for Misha, but he ends up making it there not that many hours after Jensen and his steamer have left. He waits for the next ferry just barely, without a ticket and without money, but he knows that, even though his clouded mind does not let him quite find it out, there must be a detail he’s forgetting and that’s relevant.
He discards that thought - it will come to him when he comes back to his senses, and for now plans to steal a uniform. He really hoped he would not have to resort to this again, after so long, but hey, what’s one last time before one stays with a respectable master. (Well, respectable. Misha thinks after the way they all ran they have lost whatever dignity they could have had, and that in any case, as Jensen had said, survive it all. If this is not survival Misha doesn’t know what it is.)
The water is very still until it starts to ripple, almost like something is about to crawl out to the surface from the depths of the sea. The white crest of the waves starts to form, rises and falls with the arrival. Misha is forgetting something, he’s forgetting something like this, he’s thinking about the depths and the ripples and a giant squid, and at the first trace of metal beneath the water he can finally see.
Ah, yes. The man he learnt everything from.
The moon is high up in the sky when Jensen looks out the small window in their cabin. He has not spoken to Jared ever since they found their rooms, unsure of what to say, and doubting he would have something to say at all.
He’s worries about Misha, for sure. How could he not be, when he knows Somerhalder had something planned? That Welling was after them like a hound? He did not doubt that Misha would be alright. It did not mean Jensen could not worry.
He asked on his way in about the steamboats that would reach Yokohama - apparently no others did until a few days after, which would be giving Jensen too many hours ahead of the schedule in comparison to Misha, but the ferries that come and go are, despite slower, much more abundant. He guesses Misha would have been smart and taken one of those. With some luck the difference in their arrival will only be a few hours, time enough for all of them to meet and catch a boat to San Francisco if they can.
What was the name of that friend Misha said he had who travelled the world? Must have been nobody. “Nobody”, that’s something that Misha remembers, and he doesn’t know why. It was probably the cryptic response that Misha gave. Jensen can’t quite put his finger in it. But Misha is still smart and resourceful, and if he can remember just the slightest bit about his schedule, they will all reach Yokohama without a problem. It will be something Jensen has to worry about when they reach the city, in any case, because on the steamer there is so little Jensen can do.
There is a knock at his door, and he rushes to open it, not caring that his shirt is half in disarray or that a Lord should not present himself in that way. He would be quick to excuse it, since his valet has, after all, gone missing. Propriety is thrown out the window, though, when what he finds instead is Jared, looking tired and worn.
“I cannot sleep,” Jared says bluntly and still standing at the door or the small chamber, eyes wild and red-rimmed. “I’m worried sick about Misha, I don’t know - I don’t know what can happen to him. Do you think he will be alright?”
Jensen welcomes him and closes the door behind him. “I could not tell you for certain, but I think if an accident had befallen him we would have found out before we left Hong Kong. It may sound strange, but do not worry, in that case, because I doubt that Misha would have suffered any harm.”
Jared seems to make an effort to breathe. “I think he had a friend who went to Hong Kong regularly. Do you think his friend would have been able to help him?”
Jensen frowns. “I thought about it as well. I could not have said for sure. But tell you what, I’m fairly sure that if Misha is not able to follow us on time to Yokohama, we will find him in London when we return. I would certainly not put it past him to be able to return home safely, if that helps. Do you not agree?”
Jared smiles, despite himself, and looking so tired it makes him appear even younger than he is. He sighs and turns back to the door. “You’re right. I should have not bothered you.” Jensen finds himself wishing he had not shaken off his trouble so easily, even though he does feel relief that it seems the two fo them share the certainty that Misha will make their way back to them soon enough. “So then… for now we wait.”
“It will be less than a week, Jared,” Jensen says. Less than a week just the two of them, then. Less than a week of something in the air he can’t quire place and that yet he’s perfectly certain of. “Take some time to rest if you can, at the moment there is little more we can do, anyway.”
“I don’t think I would be able to sleep right now,” Jared says. “The constant reminder that we’re almost late does not really give me room to think of much other than the deadline and the possibility that we may yet not make it.”
Jensen smiles. “That should be my problem more than yours.”
Jared does not really return the smile, but he seems amused by the response. “I’m afraid now it’s the problem for the two of us.”
He’s standing so close and with such ease that Jensen could almost kiss him. Almost, if he moved just an inch, and he has a second to feel the air turn electric right before it’s Jared who leans in and kisses him, tentative, and after a second that seems to stretch forever takes another step back. With that, he leaves the room, and as he closes the door he sends Jensen a look that promises so much. And Jensen would lie if he said he was not, despite it all, fairly satisfied.