Wandering Lost: Part 6

[dugindeep]

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DAY SIX

Jensen wakes with sun streaming in through the window, curtains pulled back to welcome the morning. His mind drifts back to last night when Jared walked him back to the inn after Mushroom Mania.

The event was just as eccentric as previous ones, and hosted by Misha Collins, who was showing off a large garden taking up half his backyard. Folks gathered around the crops to admire his collection of tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, and the guest of honor: a large variety of mushrooms. Many other guests spilled out onto his front lawn, most holding freshly mixed mojitos featuring Misha’s homegrown mint.

Jensen had quite a few, enjoying the crisp, refreshing drink, so he’s not sure what all happened after Misha announced they were out of rum and switching to Moscow mules with vodka.

He does recall cutting himself off at that point. He also recalls Jared offering, quite formally, to escort him back to the inn once the party died down. They’d walked quite close together, bumping shoulders and hands, on a long stroll through town.

There’d been an awkward moment as Jensen took the first few steps and suddenly spun around as he thought about kissing Jared, wanting to feel that mouth against his own. Instead, Jared had bowed his head with a solemn good night, Jensen and left.

In his room, Jensen spent some time staring out the window and watching Paradise sleep under a full moon.

He gets out of bed this morning and does the same, this time admiring the town waking up under the bright sun. From this height, he can see Kim and her boys walking down Main Street and entering the diner for breakfast, spots Richard tossing the large garage door up and getting the F-100 up on a lift to inspect the undercarriage, then watches a particularly tall man with a nice head of hair come down the street, heading for the inn.

Jensen gently smiles as Jared swiftly takes the stairs. The sound of the front door opening echoes softly up to this floor, and that recognizable voice greets Mrs. G. downstairs.

Supplying him with a solid excuse to go downstairs, his stomach grumbles and his brain cries out for coffee.

The rest of the morning is lost to a long breakfast with Jared and Mrs. G., this time out in the garden with the sounds of the birds joining their voices.


***


“What’re your plans today, Jensen?” Mrs. G. asks over a third cup of coffee.

Breakfast has long been cleared away, thanks to all-around, perfectly nice guy Jared, and the three are now relaxing with the sun rising higher in the sky.

“You know, I found a spot where I can get cell service,” Jensen begins. “I was gonna head over there and get a few things done for work.”

“Really?” Mrs. G. asks. “Seems as if news like that would’ve gotten around.”

“News about the cell service or my work?”

“Both,” Jared jokes with a wink at Jensen.

She turns to Jared. “And what about you, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got a few things I could be doing,” he replies, fidgeting with his mug.

“Like what?” Mrs. G. prods, smiling in curiosity.

Jared glances at Jensen for only a moment before answering her. “I was gonna check with Richard. He’s waiting on parts for the garage.”

Jensen sits up in his chair, simultaneously excited about progress on the truck and frustrated at the reminder that the easy living of Paradise will come to a close.

“Don’t wanna put you out for too much longer,” Jared tells him, yet only offers a quick look before taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, of course not,” Jensen concedes with as much strength as he can. He’s sure there isn’t much confidence in his voice, though.

Suddenly, he doesn’t care much for finishing his coffee. There’s a sour taste left in his mouth.

And he’s becoming more bothered the longer the three of them sit here as if nothing has changed. It isn’t helped when Mrs. G. opens another conversation with Jared about the festival later that night.

Jensen pushes his chair back and excuses himself. Barely meets either’s gaze when he insists he should check his email, then he’s gone.


***


He finds a faded bench further down the block where he has sometimes lucked out with cell service. It’s far from comfortable with sun-baked metal slats to sit on, but he considers it an upgrade from staying at the inn and lamenting his sudden apathy about heading back to New York City.

Checking in with Samantha, Jensen hears that most of the contracts are close to being finalized with Jensen’s efforts. He’s smiling by the end of that call, knowing that his bartering has paid off, even if he was a few days late to the mess. More emails are exchanged with Sheppard, and eventually the man’s assistant, to come to an agreement on the artist’s positioning at the gallery. Another call to Samantha, and the best solution is to grant Sheppard a more prominent place in the Fall show to appease him for now.

One more email tells Beaver all is going well, though big-city traffic slows him down as he crosses the Midwest. Jensen caps off the lies with a promise that the truck is holding up. It’s nerve-wracking when he hits send, as if the old man will see right through the email and know Jensen’s been spending the last week playing around Paradise.

He connects with Jason via text in anticipation of getting back home, even setting up a bar night to catch up and share all the exploits of this trip.

Days ago, Jensen had imagined the dramatic retelling of this story starring a cast of unbelievable caricatures. Today, his perspective is skewed. Paradise is an old, sleepy town with the warmth of what he wishes his childhood could have been. People look out for each other, step in to help without hesitation or expectations for payment, and they truly rely on the simple pleasures this place offers them.

He suddenly thinks it’s not just his hometown he’s comparing to Paradise, but New York City. The place he’s called home for fifteen years, yet he’s just one dot among millions. In Paradise, folks know his name, far more than back in the city, and there’s genuine care when they ask him how he’s doing, what he plans for his days, or even how he’s enjoying their little community.

Despite the turn in his mood, if someone asked him those questions right now, he knows he’d tell them the truth: he’s enjoying every single bit of it.



*



Back downtown, Jensen stops in at the garage. It’s more than a bit awkward to see Jared there, and it’s obvious that Jared feels the same. Jensen waves at them then asks about the truck.

“The part came in today!” Richard exclaims. “I can finally get your baby up and running!”

It’s not my baby, Jensen thinks about replying, chuckling instead. “That’s great. How long will it take?”

Richard wipes his grimy hands across the front of his coveralls, adding more streaks to the already filthy clothing. “Maybe another two or three days. Jared, here, has to go pick up the part in Bells Pond, then I can start tomorrow.”

Jensen lifts his eyebrows in surprise, and maybe pleasure. There are a few more days to spend in Paradise; he doesn’t have to pack up and leave immediately.

“Well,” he says with a growing smile, “that all sounds good. Glad to hear it.” Looking right at Jared, he adds, “Sounds like I still got a little time here.”

It takes a few seconds for Jared to catch on to that, but when he does, his lips curve happily and dimples appear in his cheeks.

“You want some company to Bells Bond?” Jensen offers.

Jared nods quickly. “Definitely.”

They sink into a strange silence once they’re in the truck and heading out of town. It’s tense for completely different reasons now, as they each chance quick glances at one another.

“You drive out here often?” Jensen asks, lacking a better topic of conversation.

Jared keeps his eyes on the road, but Jensen can tell that he’s attuned to the question. “Yeah. I come out here every few weeks for the post office. A lot of folks, especially the businesses, have boxes there.”

“That’s mighty nice of you.”

“I try,” Jared responds with a shrug.

“You help out a lot of people in Paradise,” Jensen says. He thinks about Mrs. G.’s comment about how lovely Jared is for doing so much for everyone without asking for anything in return. “Seems like you do a lot around town, but no one ever pays you.”

Jared looks over, and Jensen offers a smile to show he means no ill will.

“I’m just curious,” Jensen continues, “how do you get by if you don’t have a job? Where do you live?”

Now Jared chuckles, licks his lips, and curls his fingers around the top of the steering wheel. “It’s not that exciting.”

Jensen sits up straight and watches Jared carefully. He’s up for the challenge. “Try me.”

“I live at my parents’ house.”

His eyes widen at that. “You live with your parents?”

Jared sucks in a long breath. “No. It’s their house. They’re not … around anymore.”

Jensen immediately bites his tongue for attempting to mock Jared, especially when they guy is opening up in this way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he mumbles with a sideways glance at Jensen before focusing on the long road ahead of them. “They had an accident on a road trip to Mount Rushmore.”

“I’m so sorr—”

“Don’t be,” Jared insists. “I know, and it’s okay. It was a while ago.”

Jensen is afraid to ask, yet the door is open, and he figures it’s his best chance to ask: “Is that why you don’t leave Paradise?”

Jared turns towards the open window and the breeze pushes his hair off his face. Jensen regrets having travelled down this trail for the sake of conversation, even when he admires Jared’s profile, the stillness in his face when he prepares his answer. Jared finally replies, “My parents made some good choices with their money. And when they … well, after … they left it to me. That’s why I don’t have to really work. I know I could leave, probably go anywhere. But at the same time, this town helped me when I needed it. So, I’m returning the favor.”

“You’re amazing,” Jensen murmurs before he realizes the words have come out. He also realizes that he absolutely means it.

Shaking his head, Jared tries to grin at Jensen, but Jensen can see a bit of tension in the line of his jaw. “You’re the amazing one. Going off to New York and making something more for yourself. I could never do that.”

“It’s just what I needed at the time,” Jensen admits. He wonders if it’s what he needs now. Maybe there’s something else out there for him, like living at a slower pace, taking time to enjoy the simple things that make people smile.

“Hey, look at that,” Jared says suddenly, pointing to swerving tire tracks along the dusty shoulder on the left side of the road.

Jensen looks across the way and out the back window once they’ve passed the spot Jared’s excited about. “What was it?”

“That’s where I found ya.”

He looks at Jared and finds softness in those bright eyes and a small tilt to his smile.

What was a terrible day of being stranded without the power to do anything on his own has turned into an enchanting week in Paradise. And it’s all come full circle with a truly unremarkable set of tire tracks.

He thinks that the simplest things make Jared absolutely beautiful.



***



At the festival, Jared stacks hot dogs on a plate that they end up sharing while leaning against Father Murray’s garage.

The rest of the expansive lawn holds the partygoers, picnic tables, and benches, as well as a few small lawn games. Jensen had backed up to this spot while watching Briana and Rich battle one another in bocce ball. Colin and Brock become absorbed in bean bag toss until there’s a dispute over points and Colin whips a quick succession of bags at his brother.

Soon enough, they’re wrestling on the ground and Kim is scolding them at her typical high-decibel shouts.

Jensen continues to watch in amusement as Jared comes around with his haul, as well as two cans of beer. They eat in comfortable silence, only stopping when that damned squirrel comes around again. It stops a few feet in front of them, resting back with its front paws rubbing together. Jensen tosses a few pieces from his hot dog bun for it to eat.

“See,” he motions to the critter, “I’ve made friends here.”

“So now you have two,” Jared replies before taking a giant bite of a hot dog.

“That’s pretty cold.”

Jared shrugs. “Okay, three.” Then he smirks and hip-checks Jensen. “Have you named it yet?”

“Considering it … maybe Ross.”

“Why Ross?”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Look at you,” Jared nods with an impressed expression lighting up his face, “sharing and stuff. It’s like we broke the levee today.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Could say the same for you. Finally let me in on the secret of Jared.”

“And what’s it look like?”

“It looks …” Jensen tapers off as he realizes he doesn’t want to joke here. He wants to be authentic and honest. Looking Jared right in the eyes, he replies, “It’s really good.”

Jared licks his upper lip, eyes only briefly leaving Jensen’s, then coming back to share a long look. “You ever think about getting back to the start?”

Jensen furrows his brow. “How so?”

“Like your childhood. Small town, close-knit people.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jensen looks away, can’t manage to face Jared while he considers that. For as much as they’ve chipped away at the surface, Jensen isn’t prepared to go much further into his past.

He realizes that facing the companionship and revelry of Paradise’s residents while he thinks doesn’t help either.

“Maybe, sometimes, you wish you could have that again. Not then, but now?” Jared ducks his head away, as if he realizes that the add-on to his statement doesn’t lessen the blow. Even when he tried.

“My parents were good people, but it’s been tough talking to them.”

“What would you talk to them about?”

With a shrug, Jensen dances around the answers. He hasn’t said much of this aloud in years, stowing it away in the dark recesses along with the rest of his high school memories.

“What do you want them to know about you?”

The surprising change in question startles Jensen. He quickly shifts toward Jared and stares at him, wondering where such thoughtful questions are coming from.

“What do you want anyone to know about you?” Now Jared is watching intently, eyelids hanging low, pupils dark and focused right on Jensen.

Jensen finds himself leaning closer with his shoulder pressed against the metal siding. Following a metallic creak, he curses as he spots rust stains on his t-shirt.

Jared chuckles lightly while brushing at the new stain. “Nothing a little wash won’t help.”

It’s all innocent, surely, but Jensen is now laser-focused on the slow stroke of Jared’s long fingers, so very long, over his arm. On the smooth warmth that sinks into the shirt, clinging tight to let Jensen track every centimeter Jared has now touched.

Suddenly, he wants set up shop and stay here, in this precise moment, on this very night. In this very town. Where the only care in his mind is when he’ll do laundry and what kind of cookies Mrs. G. will make. Not when he’ll get paid, where he can buy affordable groceries, or how long he has to live life like this.

Falling deeper into the conversation, Jensen blurts out, “I’d want them to know that I’m different now. But still normal. Still their son.”

“You’ll always be their son.” After a moment, Jared softly smiles. “That’s the first thing I learned when I came out. Whether they wanted to know it or not, I’d still be me.”

Jensen knew Jared was gay, knew they were flirting all this time they’ve been getting to know each other. Now, hearing it aloud makes it too real. Too close. Yet not enough, as Jensen is inching closer before he realizes it.

“And what about friends?” Jensen murmurs, thinking of the other partygoers going on with their celebrations, no doubt curious about Jared and Jensen standing so close together, moving even closer. “And neighbors? Coworkers?”

“Another great part of this town?” Jared’s eyes nearly twinkle in the moonlight as his smile broadens. “Everyone’s a little bit different.”

Gulping hard, Jensen acknowledges that his feet are heavy as lead and his knees are locked in tight. There’s no way his body would let him move away now, not when Jared inches nearer, and Jensen can see every tiny hair scuffing up the artfully shaped jawline, the later than five o’clock shadow that draws attention to Jared’s pink lips.

Jensen licks his own lips as he stares at Jared’s mouth, contemplates leaping forward. Or, maybe just running away. Anything to move past this purgatory of almost-but-not-quite when it comes to following the yearnings that have been building these last few days.

The only argument he can come up with falls flat when there isn’t much energy to his voice. “What about everyone here?”

“What about them?”

“They’re probably watching.”

Jared looks off to the side, all while Jensen is too mesmerized with his profile to bother moving. Now he’s characterizing the layers of Jared’s hair, how sweaty tendrils are tucked behind his ears, while the back cascades in waves, and the graceful tilt to his strong neck.

Jensen thinks about running his fingers through all that messy hair, reaches for it, then stops just short of touching. That’s when Jared turns back to him and smiles, small and careful, yet there is more emotion in his eyes.

“They’re not watching,” Jared whispers. “They don’t care.”

“I thought everyone cared about you?”

“That’s true,” he smirks, then shakes his head and licks the corner of his mouth. “They’re probably just happy you’re talking.”

The shine of Jared’s moist lips makes Jensen thirsty, and he can’t stop himself from rising up on his tip toes and drinking. He presses his mouth to Jared’s just long enough to feel the shock of skin on skin, to sense the pause until Jared presses back, opening up around Jensen’s lower lip and sucking slowly before pulling back with his eyes closed.

Jensen watches carefully until he can understand the way Jared seems to drift away, rocking back on his heels. The kiss, though brief, is stunning, crafting a spark that’s left Jensen’s lips tingling.

“You know …” Jared takes a deep breath and watches Jensen with wide, dark pupils. “My Uncle Jesse used to say …”

“Oh, God,” Jensen whines. “Please don’t.”

“Have mercy.”

Before Jensen can complain further, Jared’s mouth has descended on his own, lips curling perfectly around Jensen’s. Jared pushes in close, forces Jensen against the rusty garage siding, and Jensen forgets about red streaks on his shirt when Jared slides his tongue between Jensen’s lips and presses in.

Jensen whines again, though this time in pure satisfaction, as the long lines of Jared’s body are tucked in tight to Jensen, trapping him against the garage. Those long fingers dance up the side of Jensen’s neck and settle warmly around the back of his head, while his other hand slips behind Jensen, wrapping his arm around his waist.

There’s not much to do but hold on as Jensen lets Jared take over, completely and unabashedly, and falls into one of the greatest kisses of his lifetime. Jared is patient and slow, all while intense and focused on longevity as he stretches out each kiss for an eternity. He only pauses long enough to breathe before diving right back in. Jensen isn’t even sure he’s breathing himself, unable to keep up with Jared’s careful yet strong hands holding him close, the slick slide of their tongues dancing together, and the heat spreading between clothes.

Jensen brings his hands up to Jared’s waist, twists his fingers into the cotton, and tugs. Brings them flush together, so he can feel the bulge in Jared’s pants.

Maybe they should stop. Or leave. Escape somewhere together so they can take care of one another with more than just their mouths. Jensen suddenly thinks about stripping Jared down to nothing and draping his body across him, feeling the smooth streak of warm skin beneath him as he licks every square inch of this hard body still pressing him up against aged metal siding. They could surely do all this somewhere private.

He’s going dizzy with the onslaught of emotions, nerves tingling from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. Not to mention the lack of oxygen as his systems shut down, all brain functions fixated on kissing Jared, to never stop kissing Jared.

Pop! Pop-pop-pop! Pop-pop!> of fireworks breaks the kiss. Jensen stumbles back and away, though Jared’s arms are still tight around him. They stumble together while looking above the crowd where lights sparkle and bright colors spirit up to the sky from Roman Candles planted in the ground.

The homegrown fireworks show breaks out, and the sky is filled with bursts of red and pink and purple, and voices cry out in excitement.

“Jared! We got the big one ready!”

Jensen wants to laugh at the absurdity of Lauren’s exclamation. There’s no laughing, though, when Jared backs off from their moment with a lopsided frown.

“I promised her I’d help out.”

Before he can help it, Jensen groans and frowns, though he’s honored with the pathetic gesture of Jared’s soft smile and wink.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Jared insists. He kisses Jensen’s temple and slips away before Jensen can argue.

Jensen twists his head around, stretching his neck, and tries to pretend he wasn’t just totally wrapped up in Jared. Like they weren’t just making out like horny teenagers against the garage while the whole town, no matter how small, were just feet away as they continued on with the celebration.

But no one is looking. Not a soul is paying him any attention, which is enlightening. And yet strange, given how invested these folks have been in his presence.

“Huh.”



***



An hour later, Jensen is beyond his pleasant buzz. Wafting off into boredom, that unpleasant feeling of uselessness.

He’s been watching Jared float around the gathering and helping the children with sparklers, light more roman candles than should be possible for a town this size, and fill everyone’s hands with fresh drinks, snacks, and whatever else they’re missing.

Just as all the times before when Jensen had witnessed Jared interacting with the townies, the man is welcomed with charming smiles and warm salutations. Jensen remains on the outer ring of the event. Can’t even bother to take pictures as he tries to be a part of this moment. That doesn’t feel right, either. He feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb, someone who doesn’t really belong now.

Something itches just beneath his skin. He’s not the type to hang around and wait. He’s always taken action to keep moving. Standing in one place never helped him much.

With that, he decides to make himself scarce.

Walking the streets is eerily silent. The shops dotting the main street are dark. Street lamps and the twinkling strands above light the way. He can hear the soft echo of his footsteps on cement. A chill fills the air, and he folds his arms against his chest and walks a little faster.

It’s colder out here, away from the melee of the festival. The further he gets from the townies.

Away from Jared.

This is ridiculous. He’s never had this kind of push and pull with anyone before. And this isn’t even the scenario in which he would have expected it.

He didn’t even want to spend twenty-four hours in this place, and now he’s cursing the fact that he could be leaving in the morning. Heading back home and far away from … whatever this is.

The Red Sky Inn’s porch light is on, as always. This time like a beacon calling him back, rather than shining too bright on all of Jensen’s misfittings. The oak door creaks when it opens, gathering Mrs. G.’s attention from her rocking chair behind the front counter.

“Evenin’ Jensen,” she offers as she stands, leaning against the counter to smile at him.

He shuts the door and glances around, half expecting Jared to pop up from out of nowhere. “You’re up late.”

“You never know when a customer comes callin’.”

His watch reads past eleven; he thinks it’s rather late to be serving guests, but stranger things have happened since he found himself here.

“Is Mr. Jared with you?”

That stops him cold in his tracks. First a flash of dread that she expected them to be together, then a dash of regret that Jensen left the festivities instead of waiting around for him. “No, he’s still working at the fair.”

“That boy,” she smiles fondly. “Such a hard worker, deep heart. And never asks for a dime in return. They don’t make men like that anymore.”

Jensen fights a frown as he considers what’s brought him here in the first place. Fighting to earn some extra cash by wasting a week driving cross country. Surely there are more important things on this planet, in his life, than stretching himself thin to stay on the road. Leading him to bust up the Ford’s innards, lying to Beaver as he prolonged the final delivery, and getting too wrapped up in the workings of this town.

Too wrapped up in Jared, for sure.

“No, I guess they don’t,” Jensen admits quietly. He considers asking if she needs anything, maybe she’s been waiting on Jared to return, but he can’t bring himself to say the words.

He was never that kind of man, anyway.

“Have a good night, Mrs. G.”

Ellen reaches across the counter to pat his hand, then winks. “Nighty night, Jen.”

Jensen doesn’t bother correcting her, instead taking the stairs two at a time so he can get into bed and wake for the next troublesome day of mishaps and country gossip.

Sleep escapes him, and the blank white ceiling mocks him. His brain, too, because now he’s reliving that damned kiss on the stark paint like he’s at a movie theater. Jensen pitches himself around to his right so he can stare at the wall instead.

A terrible painting of orange daisies and rugged green grass stares back, and he sees Jared, again. Pictures him using those giant hands to indelicately hold a paint brush and crudely dash colors all around. Hears Mrs. G gush about the beautiful artwork donated by the town, so many coming from Jared.

Jensen curses that name. Curses himself. Because if he hadn’t been stuck in the middle of Nowhere, Nebraska, held up in this town while waiting on the Ford to be fixed, he wouldn’t be lamenting the pain of one stupid kiss against that terrible garage.




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