tabaqui | 'At My Feet, Eternity....'

'At My Feet, Eternity....' - part two

Monday, April 27th, 2009 10:46 pm

Part One.

It took three days for Jared to come back, and in that time Jensen vacillated between anger and despair, quite often in the space of ten minutes or less. On the second day, he realized that doing nothing but mooning about his camp all day was utterly useless, but he still couldn't bring himself to leave. In case. Instead, he undertook a grand sort of 'spring cleaning'.

He had stacked all the bits of flotsam and jetsam that had washed ashore under the elevated floor of his roost and covered it with a large piece of sail cloth. Now, he hauled it all out and gleaned through it, carefully organizing everything, and discarding things useless or broken. The pile that he eventually tucked back under the waxed cloth was smaller and tidier, and it made him feel a moment's grim accomplishment before being swamped, once again, in helpless despair.

He also rummaged out his entire nest and rearranged it, and replaced some spots of thatch that had worked loose in the storms. Lastly, he combed all around his camp, stacking up all the bits of driftwood he found and dragging off dead fronds, seaweed, and scraps of hide and bone that he had, heretofore, ignored.

Afterward, hot and disheveled and irritated, he bathed in the sea and trimmed his hair. But it didn't help. The third day found him sitting morosely beside his fire, empty of breakfast and hope. His snares had been empty and he hadn't the heart to go fishing, or the patience to soak some biscuit and make it edible.

"I may as well starve, as he won't return," Jensen muttered, feeling out of sorts enough to not care that talking to oneself, aloud, was extremely peculiar. "Seeing his own revealed countenance obviously brought back hideous memories of his dead family and now.... Well, now he'll connect the two, won't he?" Jensen jabbed viciously at the fire and winced when a spark landed on his knuckles. "I'll always remind him of that nightmare...he shan't be able to abide me, hereafter."

"And who would blame him?" Jensen got up and paced slowly back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed. "The unimaginable suffering, the loneliness, and now the horrors of the worst time of his life brought back to the forefront of his memory in the most...most hideous of ways...." Jensen stopped and bit his lip. "Perhaps not so very hideous. But certainly he was...was startled and dismayed. And it all comes down to me, and my...my negligence...."

Jensen sighed and poked his bare foot at the fire, warming his toes. "But how was I to know he would react in such a manner? Perhaps I should have weighed all the consequences first. Explored every path, as Grandfather would say." Jensen kicked petulantly at the sand, frowning.

"But – damn it all! Who would have thought a shave would be – would be his – undoing! It's not...it's really....bloody unfair! Even Grandfather would never have foreseen such a thing, I'm sure. It's quite ridiculous, really, when you –"

"Magpie," Jared said, and Jensen jerked around, badly startled. Off balance and wind milling in the soft sand and Jared's hands caught his arms, steadying him.

"Jared! My – my God! You startled me."

"Ssorry. Sorry for that." Jared had a small smile on his face – his still-clean face – and Jensen could see the shadow of a dimple there in his cheek, as if waiting to appear. Waiting for the chance to come out.

"Oh, that's...that's quite all right, I was.... I should have been more vigilant, Heaven knows what could have slunk up on me in my distracted state and –"

"Magpie." Jared shook him, ever so slightly, and Jensen took a breath.

"What? I mean – yes? You wanted –"

"Hush." Jared looked down – away – and then back at Jensen, amusement and something...else in his gaze. "I was...wrong. To run. To...hide away. I made you not...happy? Not happy. Sstupid. Stupid to do."

"Oh! Oh, no, you – don't say that, Jared. You're not stupid. It was...you had rather a shock and...and really, it's understandable, I mean, after all this time, so please, don't trouble yourself, I am – I'm quite – quite all right."

"No." Jared let go of Jensen's left arm. Lifted his hand to Jensen's cheek and stepped closer. Close enough that Jensen could feel the heat of his body – could smell the smoke-and-sweat smell of him, clean and tangy and earthy, all at once. He could see the little flecks of gold and green in his eyes, the shadow of his lashes on his cheek and the little scratch on his jaw, dark with old blood.

"Jared –"

"No, not quite all right," Jared said. His voice was so low, rough and furry and infinitely sad, and Jensen felt a bolt of some emotion – some sensation – from the crown of his head to his heels, making him gasp in a small, startled breath. Then Jared leaned in and pressed his lips to Jensen's mouth and everything.... Stopped.

Jared's mouth was warm and faintly wet, his lips rough. His eyes were open – Jensen's were, pure startlement – and Jared's hand slipped back a little, his fingers in Jensen's hair now, his palm hot and callused against Jensen's cheek. After one long, long moment, Jared pulled back, and Jensen simply gazed at him, unable to do anything else. "Better. All better. You're all better now, Magpie?"

"I...I.... What? I – um."

"Mother said. A kuh.... Kiss. A kiss makes it all better. Better?"

"Oh, yes. Quite. Yes, a k-kiss. Remarkable woman, your mother, yes, really very – intelligent, and –"

"Magpie. Jen." Jared shook him again, gently, and this time the dimple came out, deep and impossibly becoming. "Jen..ssen. Jensen. Better now."

"Oh, I – I –" A sudden, rather devious thought flashed through Jensen's brain and he succumbed to it without a moment's hesitation, rather astonished at his own artifice. "No, actually not, um...not entirely better. Not, um...perhaps you had better –"

"Yes," Jared breathed, and then his mouth was on Jensen's again and this time Jensen managed to close his eyes – to press his own mouth a little closer, to put his own hand on Jared's shoulder, surprised and intrigued by the expanse of warm, solid muscle under his fingers.

This kiss lasted longer, and Jensen was just wondering if perhaps he should move his lips a little – or tilt his head, as he'd seen girls do – when something wet pressed into his other, uselessly dangling hand. "Oh!" Jensen startled away, making Jared flinch, and looked down to see Turk's doggishly smiling face panting up at him. "Oh, it's T-Turk. Good – boy, good boy, good Heavens, Turk, your nose is rather cold."

"Cold and wuh...wet," Jared said. He had one hand at his mouth, his fingertips just brushing his lips and Jensen felt his gaze helplessly drawn there.

"Yes, yes, but then, I've heard that if a dog's nose should be warm and um – and dry, then you must immediately treat them with a dose of –" Jared laughed suddenly – still too loud, still rusty. Head tipped back and his mouth wide and Jensen stuttered to a stop, watching him – grinning himself, because he couldn't help it. He simply could not.

"Magpie, you don't even have any fish. No b-break...breakfast!"

"Oh! No, no I haven't had any, I was rather...out of sorts before, I didn't feel quite up to it."

"Let's get breakfast, Magpie," Jared said. He leaned down and scooped Jensen's fishing spear up out of the sand and gestured at Jensen. "Hurry up."

"What?" Jensen looked down at his trousers, waistcoat and shirt and felt himself blushing rather hotly. "Yes, yes, of course, let me just...." As he stripped to his breeches, Jared dashed past him into the surf, whooping, the dogs leaping after him, and Jensen felt decidedly...better.

On the fifth day after Jared had come back, he asked Jensen if he would shave him again. He'd been rubbing his cheeks for a day, looking sideways at Jensen, who had shaved the day before. Jensen wanted to say no – wanted to never see such misery in another human's face again. In Jared's face again. But Jared only looked at him, serious and still, the breeze blowing a lock of hair across his eyes for a moment and Jensen couldn't say no, after all.

He laid everything out neatly and then hesitated, soap and brush in his hands, and Jared leaned forward and touched his wrist, little stroke of callused fingers and blunt nails. "Jen-sen. I won't run away. Again. I won't run."

"I...I'm afraid I'm rather...I don't want to hurt you, Jared," Jensen said. But Jared only smiled, and turned his face up to the sun, eyes closed, his hands lax and open on his thighs. Calm, and so trusting. So Jensen knelt up, and opened the razor, and began.

It seemed doubly difficult this time around. Jensen was still rather dreading a repeat of the last time. Dreading the thought of Jared running away and never coming back. But there was something else, as well. This time Jensen was aware. Aware of how Jared's skin felt under his fingers. Of how his hair fell across his shoulders – how his lashes were a perfect fan, fluttering a little as Jensen worked.

Aware, too, of how close he must press to reach that difficult spot at the curve of Jared's jaw; how he must lean into Jared's heat; how his thigh touched Jared's knee, the back of his hand. By the time he finished, Jensen was breathing unevenly, flushed and too warm and... And very, very glad that he had dressed again after breakfast.

As he cleaned the razor for the last time – tidied everything away – Jared lifted the mirror up and held it. He studied himself in the little square, his fingers coming up to run along his jaw – his mouth. His gaze was distant – hollow – and Jensen sat down next to him and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Jared? Are you all right?"

Jared flicked a glance toward Jensen, and then went back to the mirror. "I forgot. What they...looked like. Forgot...them. For so luh...long. I forgot I had...a family. They...you made me...not forget?"

"Remember? I made you remember. And I'm so – I'm so sorry, Jared, I am truly –"

"No. Magpie, hush." Jared put the mirror down – looked out at the sea that was glass-green and spun-sugar white that day, rushing up the sand with a long, hoarse susurration. "It's good. I shouldn't have forgotten. I was so...angry. I was angry, Jen-sen." Jared looked at Jensen finally, his eyes very wide - his lashes damp. "They left. One by one, they...they left and...I... I was angry and I was...ss...scuh...."

"Scared? Were you...you were scared, Jared?"

"Yes!" Jared dropped the mirror and pounded both his fists against the sand. "Yes, scared, I was scared. I was angry and I wanted...I wanted them to come back, I wanted them to stay and fight, I hated them for...for leaving me." Jared sagged a little, breathing heavily. He looked up at Jensen and his eyes were huge and bright, his lashes wet. "I hated them and I made myself...forget. I didn't want to th-think about them at all."

"I imagine it was rather a – a shock, then, to see me with your father's diary," Jensen murmured, and Jared sat up a little straighter, wrapping his arms around his knees and laying his cheek down, looking at Jensen. He sniffed.

"When I saw you take it, I wanted to stop you. But I...I was scared again. And I didn't...I didn't want you to read it. To see how I...ran away."

"Oh, but...I'm so awfully, dreadfully sorry, Jared, I should never have.... I knew it was private, I –"

"No. No, Magpie. It's all right. After...after I took it, you gave me.... You gave me presents. You said my name." Jared's eyes were bright again – dancing with affection and awe. "I almost forgot. I didn't want to forget me, too." He smiled, his cheek pressed up against his knee, his hair tangled across his forehead and Jensen felt something, warm and unfolding in his chest. Something...new. Wonderful. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, then. That's...that's all right then, isn't it? I would have hated to have never...never met you, Jared. I can't...can not imagine surviving as you did. It's simply...a miracle. An incredible miracle."

Jared bit his lip, his smile fading a little. "I stopped praying. After Father...I stopped praying. I wouldn't talk to God anymore if he...if he would let that happen. I was angry at him, too." Jared's gaze searched Jensen's face, his brows drawn down in a frown. "Does that make you...not like me?"

Jensen was startled into a little bark of laughter at that, and he reached out and squeezed Jared's shoulder, reveling in the feeling of the other man's skin and muscle under his hand. In being allowed to touch. "Of course not! I think...I think I would have been angry at him, too. It doesn't matter. I think...God hears you even if you don't mean for him to."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, watching as the sun slid down and down and finally into the sea. The sky above was a soft, deep blue, shading to colors of lilac and rose and smoky saffron-gold, while the sea glowed for a moment, a sullen garnet. And then the sun was gone, and the stars were there, vivid and blazing as candles, scattered so thickly there was barely room for the sky.

Jensen caught himself on a yawn and stretched a little. "Oh, it's been...a long day. I think I shall go to bed now. You could stay, if you liked."

Jared sat up, stretching his arms up over his head and yawning, as well. He looked over his shoulder at Jensen's little house up in the trees and grinned. "Will you pull the – the ladder up?"

"Oh, yes – yes, of course, I do every night. It only seems wise, you know; wouldn't want anything to –"

"I wanted to see in your house," Jared said, and he scrambled up, brushing at the sand sticking to his skin. Walking purposefully toward Jensen's nest and moving gracefully up the ladder. At the top he waited, peering inside, and Jensen hastily banked the fire and picked up the kit – climbed the ladder himself and then pulled it up behind him and into an untidy heap in the doorway. Jared was a darker spot of blackness in the small room and Jensen moved carefully to his little, hand-made bureau and found the tinder box. He lit the lamp and hung it from the hook in the center of the room.

"It's not terribly fancy – I'm not much of a carpenter, I'm afraid, but I got the idea from a book I'd read, and thought it would be safer up here than down below, you know. Fortunately a little tool-box washed up in another chest with some nails and things, and I was able to make something passing useful."

"I like it." Jared turned from examining the wall of tinned biscuit Jensen had accumulated, and went to the bed. It was about six inches off the floor on four sturdy legs, and Jensen had tightly laced the wooden frame with rope. On top of that was a mattress of sailcloth stuffed with cut grass, and a jumble of blankets that Jensen had been overjoyed to find. Jared undid the knot of leather at his waist and let the loincloth he wore fall to the ground, utterly unselfconscious. He crawled into the blankets, pulling and smoothing and finally lay flat, his gaze on Jensen.

Jensen couldn't quite make out his expression in the shifting shadow and light of the trembling lantern. And he was rather grateful for that, really. He stripped out of his own clothing, laying it all along the bureau top, his fingers hesitating over buttons and ties but finally – inevitably – doing what they must. Then he hastily blew out the light and fumbled his way into the bed, lying stiff and shivering on the edge.

Except that the ropes didn't really allow for that, and only a death-grip on the frame would keep Jensen where he was. The moment he began to relax, he rolled toward the middle where Jared was, his thigh and hip pressing into warm, yielding flesh. With a small sob of nervousness, Jensen scrabbled at the frame. And then froze as Jared's arm came over him, heavy and warm.

"Puh...please don't. Don't be so far away, Jen-sen. Please...."

"I don't...I don't know if...Jared, I c-can't...if you d-don't –"

"I want.... Jen-sen, I druh...dreamed. Someone...warm and...soft and...close to me, someone...my own...someone...please...." Jared's hand was stroking along Jensen's ribs, his chest. Gentle. Hesitant. So incredibly new and different, and Jensen surrendered with a shuddering sigh, rolling back into Jared's body and feeling – truly feeling – the lean, warm length of the other man pressed close to him from shoulders to calves.

"I think this might...might make God angry," Jensen whispered, and shivered as Jared's mouth touched the back of his neck – as the tip of Jared's tongue moved once over Jensen's flesh.

"I don't care. He sent you here like me; he made you be here so we can...we can do what we like. He's not allowed to be angry at us if he makes us be here alone." Jared's hand continued to stroke, slow, lower and lower, and Jensen let out a soft cry, his own hand seizing Jared's. Holding it tightly, he twisted in the blankets, turning until they were face to face. Faint moonlight, filtering through the trees and the thatch, illuminated the curve of Jared's cheek – the waves of his hair.

"I want.... Would you kiss me again? I want...want you to kiss me again, Jared. Please kiss me."

"Yes...yes, I –" Jared's mouth suddenly covered Jensen's and this time it wasn't a dry press of mouth on mouth. This time it was something more – something wetter, and deeper – something that sent a current of electric sensation all through Jensen's body, and he wrapped his arms around Jared's shoulders, feeling dizzy and breathless and giddy. Terrified, and he wasn't even sure of what – why. He knew – knew – that Jared would not hurt him.

"Mm...Magpie. I want...I wu-want...." Jared's hands were pulling Jensen closer still – his thigh was sliding, heavy and smooth as a python over Jensen's. His mouth, hot and wet and sliding over Jensen's jaw, his throat, and Jensen let his head fall back, a small, guttural sound coming out of him that made Jared gasp and pull at him frantically, his body twisting over Jensen's.

"Yes, please, Jared...." That feeling of something approaching – something electric and huge, tingling on the edge of all his senses – was swamping Jensen now, making his chest ache. Making his belly knot in waves of rippling heat. He felt as if he were flying apart – as if he were falling from some great height – and his heart pounded as his soul seemed to lift away, soaring and diving. An insubstantial swallow, aloft in the warm, fragrant night.

"My someone, my own someone," Jared murmured, and Jensen could only whisper 'yes'.

In the morning, for the first time since he had been cast ashore, Jensen did not get up with the sun. Instead, he lay curled in his nest with Jared, back to chest and hands entwined, breathing each other in in slow, even breaths that gently cajoled Jensen to sleep again, just a little more. Jensen felt warm all over, his muscles soothed and relaxed, his skin sensitive and alive, feeling every press and breath of Jared's against him. He felt wanton, lying abed naked with this strange, beautiful boy. Wanton, and horrifically shy, so that he daren't stir an inch for fear that Jared would...would....

"Jen-sen. You're so quiet," Jared whispered, his lips just brushing Jensen's shoulder, and Jensen shivered, unable to stifle a tiny gasp.

"I...I was afraid to wake you, I'm not sure how to behave in...in this particular situation."

"Ss...situation?"

"I've never...woken with someone in my bed. I mean, I fell asleep with Grandfather once, but he was ill and I think that hardly counts as we were both dressed and I was, I was in a chair, mostly, I just slumped down, rather, and –"

"Magpie," Jared laughed, his whole body shaking against Jensen's. "Don't worry. You don't...there's nothing you need to do. Just..." Jared moved somehow closer, and Jensen let himself relax back into the heat and solidity of the body behind him. Let his eyes drift shut, and his heart slow, and soon he slipped, sweetly and naturally, back into sleep.

When they finally woke for good and all, Jared went off with the dogs to check the snares, while Jensen built up the fire and then – in a fit of daring – stripped down to his bare skin and went for a bathe. He floated serenely in the water, the waves lifting him up and down, the sunlight warming him, until he heard the distant sound of Jared hallooing and stood up.

Jared was trotting down across the sand, some kind of small game slung over his shoulder and the dogs racing along before. They splashed into the water and waded to Jensen, who petted them and praised them lavishly while Jared flung his catch down and stripped as well. He plowed through the waves, grinning, and caught Jensen up in a hard hug. Then he held Jensen by the shoulders and pushed him back a little, looking down at his nakedness and then up again through long, dark lashes.

"Yes, I know, I – it seemed rather foolish of me to wade out half dressed when...when.... Well, after all, you've seen –"

"Magpie. You're beautiful," Jared said, and his words were like a caress, making Jensen sway a little, his lids fluttering half shut.

"I...I've never...you...th-thank you, I...." Jensen opened his eyes – forced himself to look eye to eye with Jared and not flinch away – not stutter. "You are, as well, you...Jared, you make me feel...." Jensen took a huge, shaky breath – leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jared's, the action feeling so natural now. So very correct. "I love how you make me feel."

Jared's answering look – his sudden, fevered touch was reply enough, and Jensen never noticed the sand grinding into his knees, or the waves that hissed and slapped over their bodies, half drowning them as they embraced.

Late in the afternoon, they walked up to the headland that lay north-east of Jensen's camp and looked down over the wide sweep of bay and beach and stone that had been the first, inhospitable landing that Jensen had found. He told Jared how he had dragged his spoils from the sea and then carted them up and over when there proved to be no fresh water nearby – how he had camped there for many nights, hoping that his vantage would allow him to spy a fellow castaway, or another ship. How, finally, he had resigned himself to a lonely life and abandoned the high and windy place for a more secure shelter below.

Jared told him, haltingly, a few stories of his own adventures when they had first been cast ashore, but it was clear it pained him, and Jensen gently hushed him.

"Some day, Jared, you can tell me. Not now. Now is just...for us, all right? Now is just for us."

"All right, Magpie." Jared smiled at him – let out a great breath and caught Jensen's hand fast in his. "For us." The sky out over the sea was darkening, the sun obscured by heavy, bruise-black clouds, and the warm breeze cooled by degrees, until they were both shivering. The sea churned, cream and slate, and silent lightning shivered across the horizon. They turned and began to make their way down again, hungry and wanting the security of their camp – the roost. Climbing, slipping, laughing, helping each other along, they made their way home.

In the early hours of the morning, just as the sun was sending up the first pale, lime-yellow shafts of light through the blown-ragged remains of the storm, a ship slipped into the bay. Her rigging was tangled – her sails torn – and the calm mirror of the bay was greeted with cries of thankfulness from the bruised and exhausted crew.

In the roost, Jared and Jensen slept, skin to skin and hand to hand, safe and warm.

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