Stick Because I'm Stuck on You [PART TWO]

[queenklu]

Part One


“…shh! Mumblemumble…careful…mumble…stretch…?”

Jensen peeled his eyelids apart to grey-blue morning light and the sound of Mac’s voice in the kitchen. God, what time was it? He had to work Sundays, the alarm on his watch should’ve woken him… Jensen blearily checked the timepiece and swallowed a groan. Two hours earlier than he-or any human-should have to be at all conscious. He was gonna kill Mac and dump her body in a pit of rabid monkeys.

He felt like an extra from The Living Dead when he finally managed to get vaguely upright and stumbling to the kitchen, extra sounds that shouldn’t be there filtering in through his lethargic brain. Guy’s voice. Was the radio on? Did they even have a radio in the-

Jensen froze.

Floppy-haired guy was in his kitchen. Floppy-haired guy was in his kitchen wearing Jensen’s swimming trunks and nothing else. Floppy-haired guy was in his kitchen wearing Jensen’s swim trunks and standing next to his sister.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jensen wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, but the split second after the even smaller one it took for him to cross the floor, he had a fistful of floppy hair and yanked him backward, startling a sound out of the sick fuck like a wounded animal. Jensen didn’t let go, dragging him backwards so far he contorted, twisting trying to stay upright, and landed on his ass.

His face looked even more guileless and scared and innocent in the daylight, Jensen thought through his blind fury, which maybe wasn’t so blind if he was noticing shit like this.

The guy was built, too, and probably taller than Jensen standing up, and even the fact that he was whimpering was barely enough to keep the intimidation creeping up Jensen’s spine. Intimidation, or feeling like he was kicking a potentially stalkerish possibly pedophilic puppy. Jesus.

“You sick freak,” Jensen bit out, trying to curtail the absolute worst of his cursing with minimal success. “What part of this seems okay to you? You followed an eight-year-old girl home and broke into her house-apparently naked, because you’re wearing my clothes-”

“I-“ the guy said, or something like it, mouth fumbling around with different shapes.

“Jensen!” Mac shrieked loud enough that he realized she’d been doing it for a while, and punched him so hard behind his knee that his leg actually buckled for a second.

“OW!”

“You’re hurting him!”

“You’re hurting me!”

She was already digging her tiny little nails under his own to make him leg go, hard enough that Jensen had to jerk back and shake out his hand as he caught Mac around the middle with his uninjured arm, hauling her away from this strange man.

“You need to get out of my house.”

Mac started kicking and biting like he was the one attacking her while their real home invader continued to gape at them from the floor, strange eyes wide like…like Jensen had a gun on him or something. Mac was shouting, he realized, yelling, “He’s ours, he’s ours,” over and over while she pounded her tiny fists against any part of him she could reach.

“He’s our crazy stalker?” he finally snapped when one blow struck a little too close to his groin, and she went abruptly limp, dead weight so fast he fumbled and dropped her on her feet without letting her go. He still felt it like a kick to the gut when he saw the tears gathering in her eyes as she glared up at him, and he wondered fleetingly if it had always been this bad.

Then she said, “He’s our dog, you dumb face.” Which was bizarrely easier to believe than what came next: “He’s. Our. Kupua.”

“Oookay,” Jensen said, getting a firmer grip on Mac and hauling her with him as he backed away, real fear this time ricocheting up his back. “I don’t know what the hell you said to her,” he told the man on their kitchen floor, “but take your time stealing shit because I’m leaving and then I’m calling the cops.”

“You’re cussing!” Mac shrieked. Like that was the real issue here.

Jensen hauled Mac up in his arms again and made for the door, chills running violently across his shoulder blades at the thought of leaving someone like that in their house, in the home that was supposed to be safe, one of the few things their parents had left him that was his, God damn it, his to protect, just like Mac, even though it was falling apart and the door would not fucking open, what the hell was this shit and why, why wasn’t it opening they hadn’t even had a fucking storm last night-

“It’s locked,” Mac grit out. Jensen froze.

“Did you-“ he tried after a split second.

“I can’t reach.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but Mac liked to use that excuse instead of admitting she wasn’t quite strong enough to turn the big heavy bolt. And unless the Shirtless Wonder had climbed through one of their windows-which he couldn’t have, they didn’t open from the outside and Jensen was conserving air conditioning while they could still afford it which meant locking them tight-or he’d moved the giant rust bucket of a refrigerator entirely blocking the back door, which was also locked and dead-bolted…

“Did you pick the lock?” Jensen asked a little muzzily, brain still trying to figure things out past what the hell what the hell as he turned and found their intruder on his feet in the doorway, top of his floppy hair brushing the doorframe and his hands palm-out at his sides. He kept his head tipped forward just a little so he still had to look up to meet Jensen’s gaze, shoulders curled inwards like he was expecting to get hit.

It was his eyes. That weird melee of blues and grays and browns that were exactly like-

“Kawelo,” Mac said, holding out her arms to him.

“No,” Jensen shouted, loud blunt word coming out childishly adamant. “No, this is just-” Because Ka-this guy, this stranger, had looked at Mac when she said it like- “That is not Kawelo.” Oh yes, let’s get the important things straight first. “That,” Jensen croaked out, waving vaguely in his direction, “is not our dog.”

“Is so,” Mac retorted petulantly.

“Jared,” said the guy, the word fumbling out and clumsy.

“Watermelon,” said Jensen, rocking back on his heels a little, “because it’s apparently an awesome time to say things that don’t mean sh-shtuff. Jared?” he said again, because-because what?

“Jared,” the stranger said again, surer this time as one huge hand splaying over his own chest, multi-colored eyes earnest and hopeful. “Jared?”

Mac mirrored his expression exactly.

“…Oh come on!” Jensen cried, flinging a hand at Jared-Kawelo-what the fuck ever. It just couldn’t-wasn’t- “In no universe is this something that actually happens, Mac!”

Jared made a soft, distressed noise, and something hot and unreasonable flipped over in Jensen’s belly.

“Okay, shut up? Please,” Jensen added quickly. He needed to sit down. He couldn’t sit down because there was a stranger in his house, with his sister. He was going to fall over.

Knuckles brushed his face, bruised and battered, scabs marring Jared’s tanned skin and even though Jensen flinched hard enough to pull something, what he couldn’t do was pull away. Jared…This guy calling himself Jared... This close, he wasn’t-he wasn’t someone Jensen could back away from, and not just because yeah, at full height he had a good couple inches on Jensen, who was not small. And not because this guy should be in some sort of Penthouse-Playgirl magazine either, and not because this close Jensen could smell the sea on him and plumeria flowers.

You don’t get injuries like that-or like the darkening bruise on his shoulder, the scrape on his knee-by being a danger to other people.

Jensen took a steadying breath and looked again with the eye he’d been training to recognize things like this before he’d had to drop out of college. Jared-and he was sticking with that because Kawelo just would not compute in his brain-wasn’t... There was a look people got in their eyes when they didn’t feel safe, and Jared... That wasn’t quite it, or it wasn’t it anymore, but Jensen couldn’t think of a thing that he had done that could’ve taken that look away.

Good job making the guy feel welcome, kiddo, something like his dad’s voice hummed in the back of his head, half soft disapproval and the other amusement. But honestly? Jensen really didn’t think his dad would approve of a strange man in the house with Mac, let alone one who may or may not be their dog.

Also, it didn’t change the fact that Jared had a hand on his face, battered knuckles curling around the shape of his cheekbone.

“Aww,” Mac crooned the way only little sisters can, “I think he likes you!”

“Mac,” Jensen begged. Jared followed the turn of his head with a sound like a bird cooing.

“Jensen,” she whined back, only like she knew she’d already won, hands shoved on her hips.

Whoever had invented the phrase ‘rock and a hard place’ had probably known an Ackles.

“What do you want me to do?” he finally demanded, and felt almost gut-punched at the smile that exploded across Jared’s face.

“Nothing!” Mac cut in like it had been an actual question, bouncing forward to take Jared’s free hand with one that had just been fist-pumping. “Promise, Jensen. I’ll take care of him. He’s just like a big puppy-he is a big puppy-“

“Oh my god, please-“ Jensen broke off, not sure what he was going to say but sure it wasn’t good or child friendly.

“I got this,” she promised with a light punch to his hip, and then latched onto Jared’s elbow and yanked his hand off her brother with a flash of something Jensen wanted to be proud about. Distantly. You know, way on down the line. “C’mon, Kawelo, let’s go get you some clothes!”

“Hey, let’s call him Jared,” Jensen said, voice coming out a little like a stewardess after a 16-hour flight, “for the sake of my sanity.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mac drawled, giving him a look that said, That ship has sailed. “Come on then, ‘Jared.’”

“Kawelo,” Jared tried weakly, looking back at Jensen as the little girl hauled him away. Trying, Jensen was pretty sure, to be convincing.

Jensen gave them both a pathetic sort of wave, and they disappeared up the stairs.

Not a good idea not a good idea oh my ever loving fuck I need a drink, Jensen thought, and then, Where does she expect to get- and then-

He took the stairs two at a time.

“Your shirts are ugly,” Mac announced, hauling a hug-sized section of clothing from his closet to dump on the bed. Jared cocked his head to the side with a noise that meant something like, Really? You think so? Jensen made a quick detour at the entrance to his room to bang his head against the doorframe.

“Such a drama queen,” she tsked at him as she yanked Jared into a seated position on the bed and proceeded to dress him up like a Barbie. Er, Ken doll. Jared looked happily confused, lifting his arms like a puppet when she prompted.

Jensen crossed his arms and waited for her to realize that there was no way Jared could fit into his clothes. Not with those shoulders. Hell, not with those biceps, for one-what did the guy do? Mainline protein?

While they were occupied, Jensen let his mind work things out. So, Jared was obviously foreign. Obviously gorgeous. Obviously…okay, as much as it stung to think it, obviously well-meaning. Not as creepy a pedophile as previously assumed. He was. He was probably a hot shot model flown in for some beach shots who saw a little girl crying about her missing dog last night and tried cheering her up, and maybe-maybe-when Jensen had come running he’d been scared so badly that he’d run into the woods, gotten lost, and decided to follow the little girl home. Having slept in the dirt and fought a wild Hawaiian bear for some honey (which explained his injuries-or maybe he got them while scrambling through the woods) he…snuck in through some secret passageway in the roof and invited himself to breakfast.

Whatever, case solved. Jensen sank down the wall until he hit the floor, letting out a sigh of something definitely like relief, and not at all like uh-huh, yeah. Fuck.

Jared did not fit into any of Jensen’s shirts. Did Mackenzie believe that before she made him try every single one in Jensen’s closet? No, she did not.

“Give uuuuup,” Jensen begged from the general vicinity of his knees. Jared roo-ed, just like a dog, a quiet and curious sound which was Jensen’s cue to not look up. Or make eye contact, ever. “Mac. Mac. Mac. Mac. Mac-“

“What?”

“We can.” He had to stop and let out a low groan before he cold make words again. “We can pick him up something at a thrift store, okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice dripping sarcasm, “and we’ll just walk in with a guy who doesn’t even have shoes.”

“Mac,” he tried again, “It’s Hawaii. No one will notice.”

Her foot came down so hard Jensen’s spine jerked in an unnatural position getting his head up to check on the floorboards. “Jensen,” she hissed, so much like their mother it hurt to look at her a little, “he is an Ackles.”

“You don’t even-Wait, no, Mac, no-“

Jared’s eyes felt like two wide spotlights on his skin as he scrambled after Mackenzie, jamming his finger on the door on his way out and nearly killing himself tearing down the hall. Jensen almost caught her when she skid around the corner, still felt exactly where Jared was standing, what he was looking at, what he shouldn’t be seeing. What he didn’t have a right to see. Not a fucking Ackles.

“Mac!”

Too late. She had the biggest box overturned, yanking free piles of carefully folded clothing Jensen hadn’t seen for six months. She kept her face down, movements efficient and unhurried until she just…stopped.

“Mac…” His voice came out tight, hoarse, torn between anger and just being sad. “These are Dad’s.”

She shook out a blue Hawaiian shirt with a hard jerk. “He’s not using them.”

Jensen tried to push all the ugliness he was feeling out of his lungs, one long exhale before he could talk. “That’s way too practical, kiddo.”

He didn’t have to look to see Jared’s expression; he could feel it, like this strange, bizarre anomaly of a person was writing it across his skin. What should I do and How can I help and What’s going on all rolled into one tense bundle of incomprehension standing in the doorway to their parent’s bedroom.

Mac scoffed, but it was half-hearted at best even though her conviction didn’t seem to be. “He’s gonna give it back. Here, K-Jared,” she amended with a wrinkled nose at Jensen’s abrupt cough, “Try this one.”

It was mostly dark red with big fat cream-and-yellow coconut halves dancing across it, and Jensen thought he remembered seeing his dad wear it once. Probably a gift-his dad hated wearing white. Jensen scraped up a smile for Mac at her choice, and she managed to look not as smug as she could’ve been winning that argument before she turned her attention to helping a man twice her size navigate buttons.

Jared frowned at them like Jensen used to stare at anatomy text books, nearly inaudible grunts of frustration puffing past his lips as he held the button and the hole together like that would magically make the two stick.

So. Probably not a model then. Even Tom could navigate buttons 90% of the time.

Jensen took over, knocking Jared’s fumbling fingers out of the way and ignoring how warm they felt for how bruised they looked. Jared kept his head ducked and his eyes on Jensen’s face, watching through his lashes, eyes wide enough to soak him in. Jensen felt like the guy in the Mickey Mouse costume at Disney World the way Jared was looking at him-or what he knew about Disney World from the grainy commercials on TV.

“Good?” Jensen asked out of habit when he finished, nearly blindsided by Jared’s beaming grin. “Uh, good. Mac, I’ve got to get to work.”

It was much easier to deal with a whining eight year old than one wise beyond her years, it turned out. Who knew?

“No, I don’t care, Mac-You want Clif to crucify me for leaving you alone? Jared doesn’t count, Mac!” Jensen shot a quick glance at Jared to see if he’d offended him, but Jared seemed particularly interested in Jensen’s left earlobe, leaning close to poke and trill at it. “Not when he can’t-Dude, seriously?” he said, turning his attention to their guest, “Personal space.”

“Roo,” Jared crooned happily, smiling with his mouth open.

Jensen gave him a look, and then slid it over to Mac.

“Well, we can’t leave him here!” she pointed out with a jut of her head. “Obviously. He eats things.”

In the two point six seconds since he’d last looked at Jared, their guest had taken to sucking on the lapel of his own shirt. Jared’s eyebrows leapt. What?

Jensen let out a little helpless noise of his own. Jared looked fucking delighted.

~*~

So maybe collapsing across the counter of The Snax Stand was a little melodramatic. Bite him.

“Aw,” Kristen cooed down to the back of his head, “What’d the munchkin do this time? Paint your toenails?”

“That was one time.”

“Never gonna let you live that-down,” she finished, last word that fraction of breathless that meant she’d caught sight of Jared. “Jensen.” One gloved finger flicked him in the head. “Who is that insanely hot guy playing catch with your sister?”

It took a lot more than Jensen would ever admit to lift his head and straighten, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. Especially since he knew they weren’t so much playing catch as they were playing fetch, and he just couldn’t-hell, he could barely listen to the sound of Jared’s big delighted belly laughs without feeling…feelings. “Just a stray I picked up somewhere. Hey,” he added before she could pry, “I was wondering-your dad have anyone file a missing person’s report in the last couple days?”

She stopped to think about it, blond hair sliding off her shoulders when her head tilted. “Not that I can remember. Hey,” she mimicked, leaning more than half of her upper body on the counter to peer around Jensen’s head, “if I say I did, do I get to keep him?”

“Mac’s got dibs.”

“Right,” she drawled, grin lopsided, “Mac’s got dibs.”

“I need to go to work sometime today,” Jensen pointed out, attempting to arch an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah. Bring the rugrat on over.”

“Um,” Jensen coughed, “That’s-um. I kinda need you to watch both of them?”

Kristen stared at him, hot dog wheel squeaking in the background. “Well, twist my arm.”

“He doesn’t really speak English,” Jensen said quickly, ignoring the sharp frown on his face, “And he likes to put things in his mouth.”

Squeak. …Squeak.

“I’mma let you think about that all day,” Kristen said eventually. “Because I know I will be.”

Jensen dug a knuckle into his left temple, focused on that instead of a hundred thousand images he wasn’t allowed to think about lurking at the back of his mind. “I hate you.”

“Hey…” She caught his hand and tugged him forward, and for a second Jensen let himself feel like someone his age. Someone who had time to hang out with his friends. Someone who suddenly wasn’t a dad and a big brother to a kid under the age of ten. “So I’ve got Friday night free this week and I was thinking-“

Jensen braced himself.

“…that there’s no way I’d rather spend it than watching Disney flicks and practicing my hair braiding skills. Think I could talk Mac into being my guinea pig?”

“Kristen…” he started, sagging a little under her touch. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a free Friday night?”

Her eyebrow arched, eyelashes flicking in Jared’s direction. “Anything you want. Just breathe a little, Jenny.”

He had to scowl at that. “Don’t-“

“Hey, that reminds me, Chris is in town!” She leaned forward fast enough to kiss his cheek before he could jump back, and then her eyes widened, smile curling as she looked at something over his shoulder. “Whoa. That got someone’s hackles up.”

Jensen closed his eyes and did not look at Jared for as long as he could, until he had to make himself walk over to the picnic bench he’d left them by. Jared was-frowning, eyebrows pulled together, gaze darting between Jensen and Kristen like he wasn’t sure what had happened.

Not Jensen’s main concern, suddenly. Chris was in town.

~*~

“Jared’s sad,” Mackenzie announced, just in case it wasn’t obvious.

“Really,” Kristen said, so maybe it wasn’t. Mac nudged her with an elbow and nodded to the table Jared was perched on, face turned towards the last place they’d seen her brother.

“I think he likes Jensen,” Mac added, drawing the word out twice as long the way Kristen had taught her.

“Really,” Kristen dragged out just the same. She handed Mac another stack of napkins to stuff in the dispenser. “What makes you think that?”

Mac gave her a look.

“Okay, okay,” Kristen laughed, “No stink eye, I give. So do you think Jensen likes him back?”

“Jensen’s not allowed to like people.” Maybe Mac didn’t need to stuff the napkins in that hard but hey, they deserved it.

Kristen arched an eyebrow. “Says you?”

“Says Clif,” she grumbled, then added in the direction of her knees, “Stupid head.”

Jared slid off his table and slunk a little closer to them with a soft whine, looking shy. Mac dropped everything and held out her arms. “Come here!” He smiled, jogging over quickly and leaning over until she could ruffle his hair. “Good boy!”

When Mac looked over to check on her Kristen looked a little worried, but Kristen also hid it quick, shoving aside plastic forks and spoons to make room for him on their table. Jared sat on the bench part instead by Mac’s knees, blinking happily up at them both while Mac continued playing with his hair.

“Hey, rugrat?” Kristen asked after a minute, “Is Jared related to you?”

“He’s family,” Mac said instantly, and Jared ducked his head to hide a blush.

“Whoa, hey,” Kristen said like she was startled, and then she dropped down to the same bench to see Jared’s eyes. “Jared? Do you speak English?”

Jared turned his face up at Mac, air sliding through his mouth like he was trying to make words. “I…” he finally managed to get out, and then his voice broke into a frustrated whine.

“He doesn’t speak it but he gets it,” Mac snapped a little defensively, wrapping her arms around Jared’s head. “Don’t bug him.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine,” Kristen backed off, then chucked her knuckle under Jared’s chin. “You’re okay.” His smile was only a split second hesitant, relieved. Kristen mirrored it like she couldn’t help it.

“You do like Jensen, though?” she asked, and Jared ducked his head again, mouth falling open as his cheeks went hot under Mac’s fingers. “Yeah?” He nodded, Mac bouncing with him. “Hmm,” Kristen said, and then after another long minute of sorting forks, she added, “Maybe Jensen can’t like you because you’re related.”

“That’s not it,” Mac snorted. “He’s adopted.” She patted Jared’s head, happy Jensen had thought that up before they’d left the house. “And anyway, I told you-he’s just not allowed.”

Kristen hummed, watching the sea breeze ruffle Jared’s hair. Then she looked up at Mac. “Hey, did I tell you Uncle Chris is in town?”

“…Huh,” said Mac, and instantly felt Jared’s eyebrows bunch in a frown. Kristen’s too, but she didn’t know. Mac wasn’t even supposed to know.

~*~

“Hey, Gary. Paper or plastic?”

“Plastic pollutes the environment and mass murders natural wildlife.”

“Right,” Jensen said, hand already reaching for the bags. “So plastic?”

Gary leered cheerily while Jensen loaded up his half a zucchini-they sold half-zucchinis? Pre-packaged half zucchinis? Really?-and his duct tape, nail files, and a book on tape. “There’ll be a place for you in the nuclear winter,” Gary promised as he trundled off.

Jensen waved and said, “Looking forward to it,” just like every other weekend.

Hasegawa General was the biggest bulk store in Hana, and took up less space than the post office down the street. Concrete floors, concrete walls, and every shelf stuffed, literally stuffed, with everything anyone could possibly need and then some. Jensen loved watching the faces of tourists who stumbled in to find pantyhose next to the frozen halibut. Just locals in today, though, expertly disentangling their frozen TV dinners from the scuba gear.

Ten more minutes to go and he’d be off. Jensen’s stomach had snarled loud enough to upset Barbara Pule when he was ringing up her frozen cashews, and that was almost an hour ago.

“Hi, Jensen!” Jensen caught the corner of the cash register with his hip when someone-some little, cute but dead meat person-caught him around the knees in a tackle. “Surprise!”

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen said tentatively, eyeing Jared because there was a guy who didn’t know enough to not climb behind the counter with him. Mac still hadn’t let go of his knees when he took a quick look for his manager, asking, “What’s up, kiddo? I thought I was going to get you from the Snax Stack when I got done.” Like he did every other day.

“She had to lock up early.” Mac slid down that last inch so she could wrap her legs around his ankles, beaming up at him. “Jared walked me over. Hey, guess what!”

Jared walked her over. Jesus, it was only across the parking lot. Jensen’s stomach should not be doing as many flip flops as it was right now. “What?” he asked, and suddenly couldn’t remember how long he’d been staring into Jared’s smiling eyes.

“We made dinner,” Mac said, leaping to her feet as Jared thrust out his hands, long fingers wrapped around white and red striped paper. “Jared made you your sandwich all by himself!”

“He did?” Jensen’s voice broke a little at the end, but he wasn’t sure if it was starving gratitude or that same sort of dread he’d felt yesterday when he was lugging back that bag of dog food. “Well, I’ve got to finish up real quick but why don’t you go grab us some Froot Loops?”

“Okay!”

Christ, she was practically bouncing off the walls. Jensen shared a glance with Jared before he realized he was doing it, and then Jared didn’t so much open his mouth as part his lips and murmur, “Sugar.”

Jensen’s knees almost gave out. Literally. He clutched the register so hard his knuckles turned bone white for a second before he could get any sort of blood flow to his brain. Still, he should have waited until he had a better word to say than, “What?”

Jared blushed, high and embarrassed, looking to Mac. “No, that’s right,” she promised, running back to grab hold of his hand and start dragging him towards the coolers in the back. “We taught him words today,” she added just to Jensen with a wide-eyed pointed stare, and Jensen nearly fumbled Mrs. Scorsese’s apples right onto the floor.

The problem with having lived through your parents dying-well, one of the problems-was that everything suddenly got a lot more relative. Example: previously, Jensen might have described the following ten minutes as the longest in his life, especially after he gave them money for the cereal, ran it through, and Jared took a post by the door just to stare at him.

Stare was the wrong word. Watch was better. It was like being soaked up, or soaked in, studied but not-analytically. Fuck. Jensen felt like he was on display, Jared’s low, broken voice humming sugar through his blood.

He still said, “Thank you,” when Jared handed him the sandwich on their way out the door, even if it meant he’d be subjected to yet another beaming grin.

“Eat,” Jared prompted, and there went Jensen’s knees again. He peeled back the paper to give his hands something to do besides shake, took a big bite so he didn’t say something stupid.

“Oh-yum,” Jensen choked out around his mouthful, “I don’t think I’ve had this much mustard in my life.”

Jared’s dimples were so deep it made the already difficult task of swallowing nearly impossible. Jensen chewed grimly on, folding the paper methodically back in place around the food until Jared caught his hand, cupped his own around the back of Jensen’s and nudged the sandwich back towards his mouth with a curious whine.

“I can’t eat it too fast,” Jensen said, only half a lie, “I’m too hungry; I’ll get a tummy ache.” Tummy ache. He was actually saying the words ‘tummy ache’ to a grown man. “It’s good though,” he added, which was all lie but sort of worth it for the look on Jared’s face. Maybe.

“Five o’clock and all is well!” Mac called out into the sunset hazy air. Tradition, trying to see how many birds she could get to call back.

“Yep,” Jensen answered, reaching down for her hand, “Three hours, kiddo. Whatcha wanna do?” She already had Jared’s hand, so she swung between them for a couple steps before answering.

“Dunno. Cove?”

“Sounds good. Did you guys eat?”

“Yes,” Jared answered, and god damn it, Jensen’s knees had to stop doing that.

“Okay,” he said after a split second, voice almost steady, even, “I’m just gonna get something to wash this down with.”

They detoured to some vending machines where Jensen spent all the spare change in his pockets on a root beer and a funsize bag of Fritos so he’d have something in his stomach besides mustard, and then it was a ten minute walk back to the Snax Shack-closed up now-overlooking the cove. It was just a tiny little bay, less than a standard city block, but it had coral and fish and a big rusty anchor and an octopus named Spongebob, so Mac was pretty much set once Jensen snagged her a mask and snorkel from their hiding place in the empty refrigerator out behind the Snax Shack. She kept her bathing suit on under her clothes all weekend for opportunities like this.

Mac was in the surf before Jensen picked a spot to sit down.

“She’s half fish,” Jensen muttered before he could stop himself. His dad used to say it, and his mom would always answer, Only half? Jared made a curious sound as he dropped down beside him, and Jensen couldn’t help flinching at the eager expression turned his way. “Not literally.”

He stuffed his mouth full of Fritos and chewed. Jared-Jared settled his rump better in the sand and drew his knees up, Jensen’s father’s shirt riding high and tight on his biceps, toes wriggling in the sand. Not looking at Jensen for once, even though he had to be wanting to. Right?

Jesus. Narcissist, much?

Jensen cleared his throat, quiet, maybe even a little guiltily. “So,” he blurted before he could change his mind, “Um. Did you have a good day?” He flicked his eyelashes out of the way so he could see Jared’s face, and got socked in the gut with the same shock he’d had when he realized he’d spent the whole day not petting Kawelo. Not welcoming him into the family and Jesus, yes this was bizarre, but it was probably pretty bizarre for Jared, too.

“Yes,” he answered, voice as low and cautious as ever. Good thing Jensen was sitting down this time, because that word was a doozy.

“Y-yeah?” Jensen coughed, trying to hide his stumble. “I heard you learned some good words today.” God, he was in parental mode. He didn’t know how to get out of it.

“Yes,” Jared said again, something in his eyes telling Jensen he knew that tone, too.

Okay, step back. Revaluate. Just because Jared was lacking in vocabulary didn’t make him stupid. Jensen had never gotten stupid vibes off the guy, just naïve. You took English, Ackles, recognize the different connotations.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbled, picking up his sandwich as a peace offering. Jared smiled all the way to his eyes, every damn time. “Um. I’m just-I’m trying to think of questions that won’t-” He trailed off, eyes flashing Jared a look that he hoped meant Help me out and Do you understand? I’m trying.

Jared propped his head up on his knees, blinking patiently.

“Okay, so. I’m just gonna stick to twenty questions here and…feel free to jump in if you’ve got the words. Or you want-whatever.” He huffed, brushing the sand off on his shorts so he could run a hand through the back of his hair. “Okay. Okay, are you a Kupua?”

Jared shook his head, no hesitation. Something tight in Jensen’s stomach dissolved, slid out on a sigh. “Hoo. Okay, alright. So-wait, but you are…Kawelo? This isn’t some sort of scam or undercover Child Services op or anything, because-well first off we don’t have any money and second-” Too many questions, too much emotion on his face. He turned back to the ocean and watched Mac swim in a lazy circle, drifting closer to where he knew the anchor was. “You are Kawelo, the dog?”

“Not-“ Jensen’s eyes snapped helplessly back to him, watching Jared’s big hands gesture to himself, brows creased in thought. “But…yes.”

“Not now,” Jensen translated, head tilting heavily to one side, “But you can be.”

Jared nodded, and for the first time his smile was tight.

“I’m just-I’m trying to wrap my head around it,” Jensen promised, holding up his hands to show he didn’t mean to be such a colossal dimwit. “You’re not a Kupua. Do you have a word for what you are?”

Jared’s mouth twisted, but in the end he shook his head.

“But you don’t mean any harm? I’ve got a kid sister to look after,” Jensen added before Jared could get upset, “I have to ask stuff like this.”

Jared shook his head almost shyly, then he reached out and touched Jensen’s chest. Should not should not should not have felt so damn electric, Christ, and Jensen’s brain was still reeling when Jared said his own name.

“What?”

He touched Jensen’s chest again, pressure splaying his fingers. “Jared.”

“What do you- Jensen,” he said, enunciating.

“Jared,” Jared mimicked, then huffed out a breath and scooted closer on the sand, turning, until Jensen was between his legs and Jared had a hand cupped around his ear. He felt like his heart was going to give out on him, it was pounding so hard. Fuck. Jared’s breath hot against his neck and all he wanted to do was get closer-further away. “Jared,” Jared said again, only this time…this time it sounded a little like, “Chared.”

“Chared?” Jensen repeated dully, trying to shake the fog out of his head. “Chared’s not a word.”

Jared looked confused, hurt. He shook his head hard. Yes, it definitely is. “Char-edssh,” he pressed, just slurring it more, and Jensen held up his hands to tell him to calm down before he had an aneurism then stopped.

“Cherished?” he tried, and watched Jared’s face light up in the dying glow of the sun.

“Yes,” Jared breathed.

Which is exactly when Mac started screaming.

~*~

Jensen was never ever having kids ever, God, no worrying about adoption agencies for this gay man because Jesus fuck if this was how he felt when it was his sister, how the hell did people function when it was their kids?

He wasn’t thinking any of this. He wasn’t thinking fuck all except Mac, Mac, Mac in a constant screaming loop inside his head. Where the hell was she? Where the hell-He hit the surf running, shoes still on, and plunged into the water just as the sun disappeared on the horizon.

Then he was thinking, It wasn’t even-God did it end in a gurgle? Mac was drowning.

His eyes burned from the salt water, but there, just on the edge of his vision, he saw bubbles and it didn’t fucking matter. He’d carve his eyes out with his bare hands if it meant he’d get to her. Something huge moved next to him, ahead of him, and a scream caught in his throat before cloth brushed his outstretched arm and he realized Jared, not shark.

Jensen dove.

Mac was struggling with something, fighting what looked like seaweed wrapped around her leg-Jensen couldn’t see. Too dark, murky, sand thrown up from the ocean bed, but she was still kicking, pale limbs lashing out. Jared appeared, shirt billowing out around him, got his arms around Mac and his feet planted on the dark thing and he kicked off, shoved it back, headed for the surface.

Jensen strained every muscle he had tearing through the water for them, and the first thing he heard when he came up for air was Mackenzie coughing his name.

“Mac,” he croaked out, just as wrecked, and got an arm around her and Jared both just in time for Jared to get yanked beneath the waves.

Mac screamed and screamed his name and Jensen nearly inhaled seawater jerking her back, spitting out curses. What the hell, what the hell-

“Jared!”

Oh god. Jensen locked his grip on her and swam, choking out promises-“I’ll get him, I’ll get him-” but he had to get her.

They made the pier in what felt like years, but couldn’t be more than a couple seconds, and Jensen threw her as far as he could out of the water so she could lock her arms around the rotting wood and haul herself up. “I’ll get him,” he promised one more time, breath coming so short at the sight of her shivering fingers on the pier, and then he dove.

No Jared.

He came up quick, made himself calm down enough to get a real lungful of air. Plunged.

The sea pressed in on his eyes, ears, nose, heavy and alive. The tide was slowly dragging at the sand cloud, revealing clusters of brain coral and sea urchins and no fish. No Jared.

Fuck, Jensen, think. Bubbles. Jared would be making-

There.

One last breath of air and he rolled, forcing his body into the form that would get him there fastest. Jared was caught on something, tugging at the buttons on his shirt and thrashing his legs out, slicing them up on the coral. Blood in the water. Jared looked terrified.

Jensen got one hand on Jared’s neck first, wrist second, made him look at Jensen and realize he had help. Jared made a startled, helpless noise muffled by his throat and the water. Jensen didn’t stop to think-he grabbed Jared’s face in his hands, turned it towards him, and pressed their lips tight together.

Jared went absolutely still, but when Jensen blew against his lips Jared’s instincts kicked in, breathing in.

Okay, Jensen flashed with his fingers when he pulled back, and then he wrapped his arms tight around Jared, planted his shoes on the piece of coral snagged on his dad’s shirt, and slammed everything he had against it.

It snapped. Jared pulled free, struggling for the surface, and Jensen mentally told every save-the-reef eco-biologist in a ten mile radius to go suck it.

Cool, sweet air tore at his throat with a ragged sound when he dragged it in, Jared coughing and gasping even worse beside him. Jensen wasn’t sure how but they weren’t far from shore. He forced his shaking fingers to tug at Jared’s shirt and then they were back at it, swimming as best they could without pulling their faces in the water. Fuck, if Jensen never did another breaststroke it would be too soon.

His hands scraped the sand before he realized he could stand, too focused on Mac running down the beach towards them, shrieking something that was probably their names. The water in his ears made everything sound muzzy, far away. Jensen hauled one shoulder above the lapping tide and just stopped, too worn out to move.

Jared, though, was anything but lethargic, pawing at Jensen with huge, grasping hands until Jensen struggled up on one elbow and hauled him closer, further up the beach with him, because maybe if Jared was on dry land he’d calm down. No dice, Jared just clutched at him harder, high, confused notes spilling out of his throat between haggard gasps, and Jensen made himself open his eyes and sit up.

For a split second, Jensen could have sworn Jared’s irises-tangle of blues and browns-were the size of a quarter. Then Jared’s clumped lashes blinked.

“What.” Jared’s brows were in a knot, his fingers cold and sandy when he pressed them to Jensen’s mouth and then his own. “What? Wh…”

Jensen spat sand off his lips and caught Jared’s hand, pinning it between them until Jared had to stop and realize how badly he was shaking. “It’s okay,” he croaked out, forcing himself to make eye contact. “It’s-I was a lifeguard for three years. It’s called buddy breathing. You’re okay.”

Mac got to them just then, flinging herself in Jensen’s arms to shake and cry against his neck.

“You’re okay too,” Jensen whispered, and hugged her back tight just to make sure.

PART THREE