The Fancatus Bureau of Incest (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} balefully) wrote,@ 2009-06-08 11:56:00 |
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| Current mood: |  accomplished |
| Entry tags: | fic - spn and cwrps |
FIC: We Flow Together (Once and Forever), Part 4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Art Post | Master Post
Jensen spends the entire night walking the streets. He looks for Jared everywhere, trudging through the cold. He goes to hospitals, to police stations, calls everywhere he can think of. He even walks through flop houses, peering into the shadowed faces of the hopeless, praying to a god he doesn't really believe in that Jared is okay. That even if Jensen never sees him again, Jared will find some way to make it. Mostly he prays that he'll find him.
He's dizzy and sick with worry; he doesn't know what the fuck to do. An overhang shelters several clumps of ragged homeless people crouched under stacks of Hefty bags and cardboard. Jensen stumbles to a halt there after searching every one of their faces. He slides down the stone wall next to the overhang, knees drawn to his chest. His jacket and tie are long forgotten at the club, his feet hurt so much they're numb. It's drizzling and he can't fit under cover, his shirt wet and stuck to him.
He can't feel any of it.
The sun is just beginning to filter through the buildings across the street, brightness and rain surely making a rainbow somewhere that Jensen can't see. He buries his head in his hands. He's not sure how long he's sitting there, shivering, suit soaked clean through, when someone comes up beside him. He can feel the shadow, the body standing over him. He doesn't dare to hope.
"Jensen?" Jared says.
Jensen looks up, eyes gritty and wet at the same time. "Oh," Jensen says, words stuck in his throat. Jared pulls him to his feet with a strong hand, pushing him back against the wall as he smiles. His handprint is warm over Jensen's heart.
"Yes," Jared says, a secret smile on his face. "There's something I have to tell you first, but—yes." He kisses Jensen deep and real, and Jensen can taste every bit of Jared, can feel every bit of him through his lips, his tongue, the heady noises he presses into Jensen's skin.
As soon as Jared pulls away and Jensen can stand up under his own power again, as soon as he can form coherent sentences, he says, "Thank god you're okay. Thank—yeah. I had no idea—you were just—Jared. Jared." He hugs him, then, arms wrapped around him as far as they'll go, feeling his breath and life. "Let's go to Connecticut. It's closest. Let's just fucking drive to Connecticut after the party. We'll already be wearing tuxes. It'll just—god, let's fucking get married."
"But I haven't told you—"
"That's okay! That's fine. You can just tell me in the car on the way to Connecticut or something." Jensen beams so hard it hurts his face, and he can't fucking wait to get Jared home and into bed so they can get up and go tuxedo shopping bright and early the next morning. The relief is still coursing through him, making him high. It's probably codependency, or obsession, or something else hugely unhealthy and awful and which Jensen should speak to a psychiatrist about immediately. But when it feels like this, when Jared looks at him like that, every moment better than the last—Jensen finds it hard to care.
*
Jensen steps out of a hired Town Car on 42nd Street in front of Cipriani in his crisp, hardly-worn tuxedo. The space is beautiful, lavish—he'll probably be spending most of the night watching Jared drinking in the opulence, and he can't say he's not looking forward to it. The stars in their designer gowns and the criminally rich haute cuisine are the same everywhere, but Jared—there's nothing else like him in Jensen's world.
Jensen had taken him out that afternoon to get fitted for a tuxedo, something brand new from a favorite of his, Salvatore Ferragamo. He'd underestimated the effects of Jared in suspenders on his dick, however, and they may or may not have ended up christening the changing room at good old Saks Fifth Avenue. Jensen figures he's spent enough there over the past week that he deserves a little afternoon delight on their premises. He's pretty much ready for round two, now, watching Jared gracefully unfold from the car like he was born in a tux. It's the subtle midnight blue of the ocean at night, with a peak lapel in slick satin and a sinful slim fit showing off every perfect inch of Jared's body. His pleated shirt is starched crisp white, with understated Baade II mother-of-pearl and silver studs and cufflinks; his Gucci shoes have the wet shine of flawless patent leather. At least it's a dinner event, and Jensen can sit down with strategically crossed legs for the majority of the evening.
"Ready?" Jared says, offering his arm like he's seen on TV. His smile is dazzling, eyes bright. The only disappointment is that Jared's hair is slicked back, sleek and professional rather than his usual wild and sexy. It does show off his heart-stopping cheekbones, though, and makes Jensen want to nibble on his ears all night long.
"Not really," Jensen says, taking Jared's arm. "Need to have about two hours alone with you first," he mutters. "I'll live, though."
Jared's lips turn up, and Jensen looks down before he gets carried away by the salacious promises in Jared's darkening eyes.
An usher escorts them in, under high ceilings and marble columns, chandeliers and sweeping velvet curtains. Jared's eyes widen, his mystified smile spreading into a grin when he looks down at Jensen. "This is amazing," he says as they're greeted and shown to their seats. "Thank you."
Jensen doesn't even know how to respond to that, how to tell Jared there isn't anything he could ever do to pay Jared back for what he's given Jensen. "Well, don't thank me," he says. "Danneel got us the ticket."
Jared just nods, looking down at the tablecloth with a little grin. Jensen gets the feeling maybe he wasn't talking about the ticket.
An usher comes up beside them, showing someone else to a seat at their table. The rest of the chairs are still empty, but the young woman with the usher sits in the unoccupied place next to Jared. She's stunning, thick dark hair curling softly over her shoulders, generous lips, dark, heavily-lashed eyes, smooth olive skin. She's so petite, so delicate. Jared looks at her, fascinated. Jensen grits his teeth together when she turns and smiles, perfect and bright, just like Jared.
"Hi," she says, glancing at the empty seat to her right and then back at Jared, self-consciously. "My plus one will be here soon. Held up in traffic. I promise we won't have to make awkward smalltalk all evening." She has a sweet voice. Of course. Jensen gulps from his crystal water glass and clears his throat, turning away to watch four other people in glittering finery be seated across the table. A few of them look familiar.
"Oh," Jared says loudly, sounding pleased. The people across the table look over curiously. "I'm so glad you're out of jail and doing well for yourself!" He smiles broadly and puts a hand on the girl's shoulder, practically spanning her whole upper arm.
"Uh," she says, deer-in-the-headlights expression making Jensen cringe in sympathetic embarrassment. The other people at the table gape at her, and Jensen mostly just wants to disappear.
"Jared—" he whispers urgently, looping his fingers tightly around Jared's wrist just in case they need to escape some sort of incident. The girl blinks, bemused, and shakes her head in the direction of the other people at the table.
"I'm not—uh—I've never been in jail, I don't know what—"
"I saw you," Jared says brightly. The girl is starting to look scared in addition to confused, and Jensen's fingers tighten around Jared's wrist. "Just yesterday. You escaped on a horse!"
She visibly relaxes. "Oh, I get it," she says, laughing uneasily. "You mean on the show." She introduces herself to the table as Genevieve Cortese, currently in a TV show playing a girl who did time in a detention center.
Jensen scrubs his hands over his face and stands up so fast his chair almost topples over. "Jared," he says again, trying to keep the mortification out of his voice, "let's—uh. Excuse us." He grabs Jared's shoulder, pulling him up and towing him to a low-lit alcove at the end of the banquet hall, hoping no one can see his fierce blush. "Remember what I told you about TV? What you see on the screen isn't—"
Jensen's cut off by a loud crash and the muffled sounds of a struggle not far from the alcove. He and Jared both whip around in time to see the scuffle, which seems to be centered around a short balding man concealing something under his usher uniform. Jensen's heart races when he realizes the strange little man is the same guy from the sidewalk with the water, and the boat before that. He goes icy inside even as the security guards haul the guy away, probably assuming some sort of murder attempt on one of the major celebrities. That would be Jensen's first guess in most cases, too, but there could very well be someone after Jared, tracking him down to deport him or something.
"I think we should go," he says to Jared, ducking back into the shadows to avoid the gazes of all the curious people peering around for the source of the commotion. "To Connecticut. Right now. I don't want to wait any more." Jared nods in agreement, determined, and leads the way. He's intent on keeping Jensen behind him, pulling him in tight and shielding him with his broad body.
"Don't know what's going on," Jared says, "but I don't really want to risk it, if there's trouble out there." He kisses Jensen once, a deep, perfect kiss, and they slip out unnoticed.
At first, standing at the top of the steps outside, it feels like it just started to rain. Cold droplets of water hit his hands, forehead, hair. He's hardly even aware of it, his hips pressed up so tight to the firm curve of Jared's ass. But then the rest of the world filters in through the muzzy blur still softening him since Jared's last kiss, and all hell breaks loose.
"No!" Jared screams, for some completely unfathomable reason, and Jensen flings his arms out as Jared pulls away, frantic. He can hear rushing water, like the strong spray from a garden hose, and the stream hits his legs sharply, stinging. "No, no! Jensen!"
Jared is still shouting, and Jensen stumbles forward trying to get to him, trying to parse all the confusion overwhelming him as Jared falls to the ground, down the stairs, legs giving out under him. Jensen immediately thinks maybe it's some kind of acid, not water, and that crazy, bald fucker is about to kill them or rob them. But then he hears the rest of the shouting, all the people screaming who aren't Jared.
"—a mermaid!" someone yells in a thin, reedy voice. Jensen can't even begin to comprehend what's going on, everything crawling forward in slow motion. He flings himself down to Jared, can think of nothing but making sure he's okay. Downing a man as big and strong as Jared is no easy task—what if there was a gun Jensen didn't see? What if the thing Jared had to tell him was that an assassin was out to kill him?
He gets his hands on Jared's brand new tuxedo, completely soaked through. It's then that Jensen sees the tail.
A fish tail.
On Jared.
Jared has a fish tail.
Instead of legs.
Jensen gapes, fingers tight, one around Jared's shoulders, one around his hip. He lets go like he's been burned, the slimy coating on the silvery tail smearing over his fingers, mucusy and thick. "Oh my god," he says. "Jesus Christ—Jared, what—"
There are tears on Jared's face, his eyes puffy and mouth twisted miserably. "I'm sorry," he says, barely audible, and Jensen gets shoved aside as the bald man rushes up to them, police flanking him on either side.
"I told you!" he cackles. "You called me crazy, but I was right! There are such things as a mermaids and mermen. They do exist!"
It's definitely the man from the research ship—no mistaking him. The ship that smashed Jensen's boat and brained him. The ship off the coast of Cape Cod, where Jared found him and saved him. Where Jared didn't speak any English and appeared from nowhere on the shore. The coast where Jensen was also saved from drowning as a little boy.
By a mermaid. Or merman, maybe. Jensen swallows painfully, wiping his slimy hands on his tuxedo pants. He stares wide-eyed at the metallic sheen of Jared's body, the sleek muscles under the alien skin, the sharp edges of the scales, the wide, boned fins fanning out from where Jared's big warm feet used to be. The webbing is tissue-paper thin, and Jensen can see the red carpet through the skin.
Jared's tuxedo pants lie in tatters underneath him, his shirt soaked and clinging to his chest, nipples hard and dark under the cold dampness.
Jensen doesn't know what to say. Can't say anything at all.
Jared isn't even a human.
He's pleading with Jensen, begging him to call off the policemen, the FBI, the security personnel, the scientist. It's like it's happening to someone else, though, through a thick fog or a phone line with static, and Jensen can't open his mouth. Can't move his arms or legs. It's like a thousand tons of water are pressing him down, into the darkness, into the cold.
"Jensen!" Jared screams—it's all he can say. He's not answering anyone's questions, not quieting down. He blinks erratically, blinding lights in his face; his arms are pulled and twisted behind his back, caught in the sleeves of his soaked jacket, which is half torn off of him. Jensen just stands, completely blank and motionless, gobsmacked as they drag Jared away.
It isn't until a police officer hauls Jensen into a squad car that he can even breathe again. He can't see Jared anymore, can't hear him. What he feels is emptiness.
*
Jensen spends the night answering questions at the police station. The FBI agents ask him stupid things, like what Jared's full name and address are, how long Jensen's known him. He tells the truth, but of course they think he's lying.
"Are you or have you ever been anything but completely human?" the taller one asks.
Jensen shakes his head in disbelief. "This is the most insane thing that's ever happened to me," he mutters.
"Be that as it may," the heavier one says, "answer the question."
"I am completely human and always have been," Jensen says. He sighs despondently afterwards. "How long is this going to take, gentlemen? I really need to sleep. Work in the morning. Normal human shit like that."
"Mr. Ackles," Tall One says," you're not going to work tomorrow morning. Or the morning after. You're staying here for the forseeable future."
"What?" Jensen says, blinking in disbelief. "No. I can't. Why?"
"You'll need to be kept under observation until your danger level is accurately deduced."
"My danger level?" Jensen asks, voice shrill. "This is fucking retarded. I refuse to—"
"You will refuse nothing, Mr. Ackles. You'll accompany Dr. Kripke to the tank."
Jensen tenses as the short, balding man from the gala and the research ship steps through the door. "The tank?" Jensen says.
Dr. Kripke smiles at him unnervingly. "Where we're keeping your little Aquamarine for testing."
*
The tank is huge. Probably about as big as Jensen's master bathroom, and that's nothing to scoff at. It's full of water—saltwater, by the smell of the facility—and empty. Jensen tries not to shake as the researchers strip him down, completely naked, and dump him unceremoniously in.
"What the—" Jensen splutters, cupping his hands protectively around his junk. "You seriously think I'm a—"
"Maybe it's an STD," Kripke says with a sneer.
Jensen glares daggers at him, and sloshes awkwardly to the opposite corner of the tank. He still can't swim, and the water is deep enough that he can't touch the bottom. He hangs there, head barely above the surface, treading as slowly as he can to conserve his energy. " I'm not a fish! You're all just a bunch of fucking sadistic bastards," he says, and doesn't think of Jared at all.
Until they bring him out. There must be a room in the facilities where they conduct some of the tests, because a mechanized sling like Jensen's seen people use on whales at Sea World wheels out on a crane-like metal transporter.
The mechanized crane swings over the tank, loosing the sling with a heavy clink of chains. Jared's prone form drops gracelessly into the water with a heavy smack, splashing Jensen with weak waves. He shifts nervously into the corner of the tank, smooth glass pressing against the goosebumps on his back.
The first thing he notices isn't even Jared's tail. It's that Jared's face is shadowed, sunken like he hurts and hasn't slept all night. He looks like maybe he's getting sick.
"I guess they thought you might be one, too," Jared says, barely audible over the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the tank. His face betrays his melancholy, and Jensen doesn't know how to feel. "You said you'd understand, no matter what my secret was," he says, looking up with a resigned smile, all sadness now. "But you probably thought I'd at least be a human being, right?" He reaches out in hope, tail fanning grotesquely in front of him, bringing him closer to Jensen. "Jensen—"
Panic explodes in Jensen; he can't help the reflex to jerk backwards violently, as far away from Jared's alien hands as he can get. Jared's face twists into a miserable mask as he sinks silently to the bottom of the tank, tucked in on himself, smaller than Jensen's ever seen him. He looks heartbroken.
Jensen can't feel anything at all.
*
It's not until the next morning that Jensen is finally released and gets driven back home in a police cruiser. There's a mob at least twenty people deep amassed around the entrance to his building: reporters and news anchors and the fucking scum-suckers at TMZ. They clamor around the car door as he throws it open and tries to shove his way through, everyone shouting questions at him.
"Not only are you having a gay love affair," a fat guy with a microphone in Jensen's face yells, "but it's with a fishman! What do you have to say to the public about your perver—"
Jensen unceremoniously elbows the bastard in the throat, angry and upset and teetering on the edge of homicidal. A familiar screech of tires and the thunk of a fender hitting the curb distracts him from strangulation just long enough for the reporter to get away.
"Outta my way, fuckers!" Danneel shouts, leaping over the door of her convertible instead of bothering to open it, even though she's in a miniskirt. "What are you lowlifes looking at? Never seen a guy who slept with a fish before?" The paparazzi scatter just enough for her to grab Jensen around the waist and get them both to the door as she waves two cans of pepper spray in their faces.
Jensen's so tired and he's shaking so badly, there's no way he can walk up to his apartment. They have to take the elevator. A physical pain rips into his chest as he stands there, trying not to remember. Danneel keeps blissfully quiet, soft hands cool against the feverish skin of Jensen's wrists. "Hey," she says after a moment, tilting her head towards the elevator door, "this is you." She pulls Jensen gently to his apartment when he can't find it in himself to move his feet.
He sort of zones out for a while, and the next thing Jensen knows, he's tucked into the corner of his couch, wrapped in a blanket and holding a mug of coffee. Danneel's next to him, legs folded Indian-style, watching him as he blows the steam away. There are newspapers stacked on the end table, presumably Danneel's way of catching up while Jensen was incommunicado.
D-LIST CELEB CAUGHT SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES! one says. MERMAN FOUND, HELD BY FEDS, says another—that one not even a tabloid. Sick dread congeals in Jensen's stomach, but he takes a sip of coffee anyway, trying to relax.
"So, how's he doing?" Danneel asks in her soothing, throaty voice. "How are you doing?"
Jensen just shakes his head and has another swallow of coffee. After an empty silence, he manages, "I don't understand." Setting his mug on a coaster, he stares through to the dining room where Jared's mural hangs on the wall, now professionally framed. "I've been waiting my whole life for someone, and when I finally find him, he's a fish."
"Love's not perfect, Jensen," Danneel says with a sad sigh. She takes his hand and watches his reaction. He can't find it in himself to deny that what he had—that was love.
"It should be human, at least," he says instead. "People meet and fall—in love. People fall in love every day. Every fucking day. And look what I got." He drops his head in his hands and clenches his fingers tight in his own hair.
Danneel punches him the shoulder, hard, and it startles Jensen so badly he yelps. "You're such a shit," she spits. She doesn't even have to raise her voice. "You were so fucking happy. No one else will ever be that happy. I don't think it's physically possible. Did you see your face? Have you even been conscious for the last week? I will never be that fucking happy. God, Jensen." She groans, exasperated. "Why the hell am I wasting my time on you? You're never going to listen to me. I get that you've been through some weird shit. I do. And I'm sorry, and it's hard, and I wish I'd never given you that fucking ticket to the Paley gala. But grow up, Ackles. You had something real and beautiful, and you're just gonna throw it away? That's a douche move, and you know it. Jared deserves better than you, even if he is a fish." Climbing off the couch, she gives him a disappointed look. For the first time Jensen can remember, she doesn't slam the door as she leaves.
Jensen gets up only when he can't stand another minute without a drink. When he has his tumbler of whiskey clutched in his hands, he sits in the dining room, right in front of the mural. As he looks at it, the warmth of Jared's hands still ghosts over his skin, Jared's voice and smile and golden skin all Jensen can see.
That deep ache that had become a constant presence, that one that always whispered to him that he could never really love anyone—with Jared, it was gone. Jensen felt right when Jared was beside him. For the first time since he was eight years old, hands clasped with that little boy under the ocean, he belonged. He's been searching for that feeling his whole life. Jared gave that to him.
Jensen gets up, decision made, and doesn't even bother to change out of his tuxedo before running out the door.
*
Danneel, luckily, hasn't gotten all that far. She's still at home when Jensen drives up and calls from the curb. "You have to be my getaway driver," he demands, not even saying hi first.
"Hallelujah!" she whoops, and this time, he hears the door slam over the phone as she rushes down to meet him.
Jensen races to the government holding and research facility at record speeds, thanks to his GPS navigator, fairly good memory, and sheer dumb luck. Danneel has an iron grip on the oh-shit handle, whimpering only occasionally—usually when Jensen ends up going the wrong way down a one-way street.
"Just sit in the car, keep it running, and floor it as soon as we're both in," Jensen says, fumbling with his seatbelt. "Got it?"
"Aye-aye, Captain," Danneel says, and scoots her butt over the console and into the driver's seat as Jensen falls gracelessly onto the sidewalk. He lands on his feet, just barely, and is just about to make a break for the door when Danneel reaches out and catches his arm. She looks at him like he's a slow five-year-old. "Don't run, idiot. Look like you're supposed to be there. You're an actor, remember?"
Jensen nods absently, straightening up and trying to remember what the security detail is like. Someone might remember him, and that could either work for him or against him. "Got it," he says, and strides towards what must be the research wing.
*
After narrowly avoiding two Swedish scientists and three military guards, Jensen finally locates the office next to where most of his questioning was carried out, wire glass in all the windows. It looks more like a library than an office, rows of bookshelves preventing Jensen from seeing the whole room at once. Dr. Kripke is seated at a table, his back to the door, poring over what look like mythology books; he's muttering to himself, exasperated. The door is slightly ajar, enough that Jensen can hear him. "What a week I'm having," Kripke says, banging his head down on the table. Something jingles as the table shakes—there's a ring of keys half-concealed by a stack of books on the far edge of the table.
Jensen whips out his phone and sidles back down the hallway, out of viewing range of the office. "Danny," he whispers, no more than a hiss. "I need you to create a distraction. Go to the front desk. Ask for Kripke. Anything it takes, as long as you can get back to the car in ten minutes. Preferably unpursued."
"Roger, Captain," Danneel says. Jensen can practically hear her salute. "We'll pretend for the time being that 'unpursued' is a word, shall we?"
"This is not the time for your smart mouth, missy. Save it for Kripke." Jensen hangs up and crouches behind the water fountain at the end of the hall, keeping a sharp eye on the door to the office.
It isn't long before there's a call over the PA for Dr. Kripke to report to Administration. Jensen runs down the hall folded into an uncomfortable crouch as soon as the coast is clear, and prays to anything listening that Kripke is as absentminded as he seems.
He is. Jensen grabs the keys Kripke left on the table with a silent cheer and crouch-runs his way to the locked door he was lead through the last time he was here.
Matching the right key to the lock doesn't take very long, and soon he's creeping into the cavernous hangar where they keep the tanks and machinery. It's deserted—prime lunch hour—though the equipment is still switched on. Jensen peers at the stacks of papers and spreadsheets on the workstations he passes. They're studying everything about Jared. Subject appears to experience approximations of human emotions, says one log book. Possible feelings of distress triggering a complex secretomotor phenomenon characterized by the shedding of tears from the lacrimal apparatus, without any irritation of the ocular structures. And if the log Jensen's reading is accurate, vivisection is scheduled for the very next day, including dissection of pulmonary, cardiovascular, and reproductive systems. Jensen's heart races, bile rising in his throat. It doesn't bear thinking about. Won't ever come to pass, because he's here to make everything right.
The big tank from before is still in the center of the room, lit eerily. He doesn't see Jared at first, assuming he must be in the back. As he gets closer to the tank, though, he realizes the motionless thing slumped in one corner, drifting near the bottom is—
"Jared," Jensen breathes, pressing himself up against the glass. He can't help it. Jared—stunning, vibrant Jared—looks lifeless. Jensen swallows back his panic as it occurs to him that maybe Jared couldn't take the barrage of tests. He might have—"No, god, no," Jensen breathes, climbing up on the arm of the transport. It's difficult to do, all of his limbs trembling and lungs hardly working, but he manages. Leaping in the tank, he immediately sinks to the bottom—Jensen can't swim at all, but he thrashes around, anything to get closer to Jared, to see him properly again.
There are open sores oozing pus clustered around the slim cut of Jared's hips where the once-golden skin of his torso slides into the scales of his tail. Those scales are dull grey now, instead of glinting silver, and they don't lie sleek and smooth anymore. They're sloughing off, leaving angry wounds where they've peeled away, strips of dead skin clinging around the edges, floating in the water like so much debris.
Jensen is horrified, his blood running cold. Jared's eyes are dull and empty as he floats to the surface, staring at nothing, even his human skin pale and bruised. Jensen pushes off the floor of the tank, following him up and breaking the surface. "Jared, I'm—"
Jared looks up very slowly from where he drifts on the other side of the tank. Some spark comes back to his gaze, and he shifts forward in the water. "Jensen—" he grates, voice torn to shreds. There's not even the ghost of a smile. Jensen can barely hear him at all, and together with everything else—his heart breaks painfully in two.
He flinches when Jared comes towards him. He doesn't mean to; of course he doesn't want to be cruel to Jared. He can't help it, though, automatically trying to distance himself from the horror they've inflicted on someone he cared so much about. Loves. Even so, Jensen's fingers ache to feel him again. He wants nothing but to be wrapped in his arms.
Jared is wrecked, desolate as he retreats back to his side of the tank, and Jensen just can't stand knowing he did that. That Jared's in pain, and it's because of him. He paddles awkwardly forward, coughing as he tries not to swallow any saltwater. "Jared," he says again, trying to put everything into it he can, all the love and feeling bubbling through him, threatening to wash him away.
He reaches out, brushing his hand softly against the side of Jared's neck. It's cold, and this time Jared is the one to flinch. Jensen just floats closer, water lapping at his chest and arms, making gentle shh noises. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, bringing his other hand up to bracket Jared's beautiful, sad face with his thumbs, mindless of how strange it all is. "Jared, what—what have they done to you? Are you—are you even going to be okay?"
Jared shrugs listlessly, and Jensen feels how he presses into Jensen's palms, hungry for the touch. "I don't really care. Nothing they do to me could be worse than losing you." He tries to smile, but it's full of pain and nothing like the sweetness Jensen fell in love with. It hurts to look at. "It's okay, though."
"What's okay?" Jensen says, disbelieving. Nothing about this situation is okay.
"It's okay that you don't love me. I don't want you to feel bad about it. I understand." Jared's voice is still quiet and broken, and Jensen can't tell if his own face is wet only from the saltwater in the tank, or if he's crying.
"What?" Jensen says again, breathless. "How could—Jared, you always know how I'm feeling. Better than I do, most of the time. How could you possibly think I don't love you?" Jensen's chest clenches tight. That Jared could think that of him is crushing. He's never stopped loving Jared. Not for one moment. He knows that, now.
"I'm not even human," Jared says, filled with shame. It's the first time Jensen's ever heard him like that—ashamed—and he prays he'll never have to again.
"I don't care," Jensen says, and pulls Jared close, kissing him deeply, hungrily—it tastes like Jared, like the sea. He's careful of Jared's body, his injuries and bruises and sores, but he gets as close as he can, presses their bodies tight together and wills his warmth into Jared's cold blood. "I love you. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you, I think, and I always will."
Jared kisses him back, holding him close, tears coming freely now. His sobs are almost soundless, but Jensen can feel the catch and hitch of his chest, the trembling of his arms and fingers. He presses kiss after kiss to Jensen's lips, tastes his mouth and presses his tongue deeper, heat leeching back in. Finally he pulls away, breathing hard. "Since you first saw me?" he says, his real smile peeking through on his drawn face. "You must've been precocious for an eight-year-old."
"Eight?" Jensen says, confused. "I didn't—" And then it dawns on him, suddenly, like he'd known it all along. Felt it all along. The reason he couldn't ever be happy with anyone before Jared. Why he always felt like he was searching for something he'd never find until Jared came into his life. "It was you!" He can't help the grin that spreads across his face, despite the circumstances. "When I was little, in Cape Cod, and I fell in the ocean—that was you who saved my life."
Jared just nods, eyes sparkling again. He kisses Jensen one more time, slipping him tongue, sly and amorous as always. Jensen doesn't even notice at first when Jared pulls him under the water while they kiss. He feels warm and dry, even though when he opens his eyes, he's clearly immersed. "Oh," he says, awed, and Jared nods, like he can see Jensen remembering what it felt like when he was a child, and when he once again thought he was going to drown, mere days ago. "Fuck. Fuck, Jared, I don't—god, I love you. I love you so fucking much."
Jared laughs, not much more than a croak, but it's enough. Jensen buries his face in Jared's neck as Jared swims them back up to the surface of the tank—he doesn't ever want to let go. Has to get Jared back the way his was, to his beautiful, vibrant self, scales or no scales.
A deafening clank jerks Jensen back to the real world. "That's the crew setting up the room next door for—tomorrow," Jared says, clearly anxious.
Jensen squares his shoulders and takes Jared's hands. "Let 'em," he says, determined. "I'm here to break you out."
Jared smiles, still weak, but genuine. "I was sort of hoping," he murmurs, and squeezes Jensen's hands. Jensen's not sure if he's seeking reassurance or granting it, but either way, they can do this if they do it together.
The researchers clearly hadn't planned on a mermaid and a human, both intent on escape, being in the tank at the same time. Jared can easily hold Jensen up on his shoulders with his added buoyancy under water, and Jensen scrambles up the wall with only a little hardship, soles of his formal shoes sliding on the slick glass. He anchors himself with his feet tucked over and under the bar on the edge of the observation platform affixed to the transporter, and hauls Jared up out of the water as much as he can.
Jared wasn't exactly light when he was human-shaped, and with the added weight of his tail, it's almost impossible to get him up high enough in the tank that he could grab the lip with unnatural, suction-cup hands. "It's part of the mermaid thing," Jared says, trying to play it off as nothing while struggling to pull himself up in his weakened state. Jared's clearly worried that his freakish abilities will scare Jensen off.
"Awesome," Jensen says, giving him a genuine smile. He shakes out his burning arms, standing watch while Jared flaps his tail furiously over the side of the platform, trying to dry it.
"I guess now you know what I was doing in the bath that one time," Jared says sheepishly.
"Yeah," Jensen says, smirking. "At the time I figured you were jerking off and had my back scrubber up your ass or something. Couldn't figure out why you'd be so secretive about it."
Jared barks a hoarse laugh. "I would've let you in for that. And asked you to help."
Jensen blushes hotly. "There's a you-wash-my-back, I'll-wash-yours pun in there, somewhere," he says. "But I'm too busy trying to bust you out of a torturous prison situation to think of it."
"I'll live," Jared says. "As long as my tail freaking dries already."
No sooner has he said it than his tail splits smoothly up the center, scales melding into each other, fins shrinking to feet, long muscles shortening into thighs and calves. The painful sores and raw tissue from Jared's tail disappear, not translating to the sleek, tan skin of his legs.
"Woah," Jensen says, bemused. "Nice trick."
Jared jumps down from the platform, a little wobbly on his fresh legs. He throws his arms around Jensen, half holding himself up, half just a firm, warm, hug. "Hi," Jared says, rough and low. Jensen won't let his dick get involved in this rescue mission. He won't.
"Hi," he says, and swallows as he pulls away reluctantly. "You're naked."
Jared looks down at himself, curious. "Huh. So I am."
"That might be noticeable."
"There are lab coats in the supply closet," Jared says.
"So I'm going to have you pressing all up against me, crowding behind me in small spaces, while you're not wearing pants?" Jensen grabs two lab coats from the closet by the door, one for himself and a huge one for Jared.
"Best rescue mission ever," Jared says, lips crooked mischievously as he pulls his on over his naked body, buttoning it up. It does very little for his non-existent modesty.
Jensen pulls his on over his soaked tuxedo, shoving the bowtie in his pocket. "Let's blow this joint."
*
They're racing out of the building, heading full-tilt towards the car at the exact moment Danneel comes barreling out the front door, military personnel of all kinds gaining on her fast. "Shit!" she screams, leaping over the low wall in front of the flowerbeds.
"Apparently half-naked men are easily spotted in research facilities," Jensen shouts back, hearing the shriek of alarm bells and the heavy footfalls of their pursuers gaining on them. He flings open the car door as soon as they get to it, shoving Jared unceremoniously into the backseat, following him and slamming the door behind them as Danneel practically yanks the driver's side door off its hinges. "Floor it!"
She doesn't even bother closing the door before following Jensen's orders, tires screeching as they pull away. The door slams on its own with the force of their acceleration, and Danneel speeds through the security gate without a backward glance. "There aren't words for how big you fucking owe me, baby," she says, glaring at Jensen in the rearview mirror.
"Keep your eyes on the road!" he cries, flung into Jared's lap as Danneel swerves to miss a fire hydrant. "We need to get to Fulton Landing, fast as you fucking can."
Jared rights Jensen, still holding him tight to his side, though. "Thank you," he says, and presses a kiss to Jensen's temple.
"Your secret," Jensen says, tilting his face up towards Jared's. "It was that you're a mermaid, right?"
Jared laughs self-deprecatingly. "Merman. But yeah, that was it. I promise." Jensen tucks himself under Jared's arm, fingers clasped in the fabric of Jared's lab coat. He doesn't even care when the roar of helicopters closes in on them, fleets of police sirens breathing down their necks.
Danneel breaks hard once they get to Fulton Street, barely stopping long enough for Jared and Jensen to roll out of the Land Rover. "I'll keep going," she says, breathless and exhilarated. Her hair is a wild mess around her face, her eyes shining. "Make a break for it, and don't look back. Just send me a postcard or something, okay? I'll be fine. Love you, Jensen, you fucker."
Jensen gives her a quick hug through the window before she slams it into reverse and peels away, whooping as she careens down the street, leading the army of squad cars and helicopters with her.
As she disappears into the weave of cars through the city, Jensen just watches, letting himself calm down, letting the presence of Jared behind him soak in. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again," he says, turning to take Jared's hand, walking with him towards the pier. "Now I really won't." Tears are welling up behind his eyes, and he can't stop them.
"I was going to stay with you forever," Jared says. "I don't care if I can't ever go back home."
"You can't. They know who you are, now. They'll never leave us alone. Leave you alone." Jensen threads his hands together around Jared's neck, tilting up on his toes a little to press a soft kiss to Jared's chapped lips.
"You could come with me," Jared murmurs. "Remember, when you were little? You were safe under the water. You were with me." He holds Jensen closer, arms wrapped his waist, mouth warm against his jaw.
"Yes." Jensen leans into Jared's touch, remembering how at home he felt in the ocean, the dry breaths and the warm glow of safety, his hands in Jared's. "That can't be for always, though," he says sadly. "I don't have—" he trails one hand down to Jared's bare legs, caressing his thigh. Even if he can live under water, he can't grow a tail. "And I can't breathe when you're not touching me, Jared." Jensen turns, lips brushing Jared's ear. "As romantic as that sounds, when it's literal, it's not quite so sexy." Jared shivers a little under him, belying his words.
"But it doesn't have to be forever. You can just swim with me long enough to get far away from here. To the Bahamas, maybe, or somewhere that doesn't even have a name. I can get us to any island you want to go to. It would be paradise—just you and me and the ocean. They'd never find us." He nuzzles behind Jensen's ear, and Jensen's knees go weak—Jared plays dirty.
"Yeah—that sounds—yes." He throws caution to the wind, drunk on Jared's body pressed to his, the thrill of having him right here, to love and keep forever. "Let's do it." He buries his hands in Jared's hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss, the wind picking up around them, whipping their clothes as they breathe each other in.
"Come on," Jared says, pulling away with a smile. He shrugs out of his lab coat, naked and beautiful as the first moment Jared saw him on the beach. He pulls Jensen's tuxedo off as Jensen laughs, everything gone but his white button-fly boxer-briefs, still soaked through. Taking Jensen's hand, gripping tight, Jared leads them both to the edge of Fulton Landing. They look at each other, wild smiles and bright eyes.
As one, they dive into the water. The moment they hit the surface, there's a swirl of current around Jensen's legs—Jared's tail appears, good as new, powerful strokes taking them farther and farther away from the city, faster than Jensen could have dreamed. His heart races as they swim, the feeling new and exhilarating. He's never done anything like it before, never managed more than flailing and splashing on his own, but he's anything but frightened with Jared by his side. Kicking as best he can, he keeps up easily as Jared propels them both along for what looks like miles, maybe more, water rushing over him palpably, though it doesn't weigh him down or cling to his skin.
He takes a deep breath, reveling in it, squeezing Jared's fingers in his own. Behind him, Jared's fin is full and beautiful, shimmering silver in the refracted sunlight, just as his skin is a glowing, burnished gold.
Jensen can't help it—he has to stop and touch Jared's tail, feel it sleek under his fingers. Jared can't keep his hands off Jensen, either, his smile broad and infectious. They make out under the waves until their lips are numb. Jensen's head spins as he looks around at the vibrant reef all around them, teeming with life. He doesn't know how long they swim; he never seems to tire. "I thought you didn't know how swim," Jared says, sliding a sly glance at Jensen.
"I didn't," Jensen says. "Not until now. I guess it wasn't that hard to learn, after all."
Jared just smiles. "I guess not. Although you have a pretty great teacher."
Jensen laughs and kicks ahead a little. Eventually, Jared's city is visible far in the distance, ethereal lights and fantastical structures carved from volcanic rock and coral spanning the horizon. "I'll take you there someday, maybe," Jared says, "if you want to see it."
"No utensils, though," Jensen says, smiling. "No music, or sarcasm. Or TV."
"Or clothing. Or a sense of personal boundaries," Jared adds. His smirk tugs hard somewhere inside Jensen. He'll never regret this—never.
"Sounds perfect," Jensen says, and slides his hand into the wild halo of Jared's curls. They kiss once more, lit by the far-off glow of Jared's city, before swimming out into the Atlantic together, towards their new life.
*
THE END.
Author's Notes, cont'd: This entire fic is actually
amissio's fault. We were in my basement, cooing over Jared's sex-ass underwater scene in Playthings (2.11) when Steven was like, "OH MAN. JARED AS A MERMAID! You should write an AU where—" And the rest is history. This was over a year and a half ago, by the way. I immediately rewatched Splash, and spawned this idea, and wrote up some snippets of it, and then promptly failed to follow through. I had a 10,000-word outline for this thing for at least a year; I just never wrote it. Then I was going to finish it for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
whenboymeetsboy, but missed the deadline. This wasn't my original Big Bang idea, but I couldn't finish my OTHER idea, so this one swooped in to save the day.Speaking of swooping in to save the day! Epic thanks to
valiant, rivers_bend, mediaville (Without whom nothing NYC-related would be at all accurate! Did you know there's a super-popular gay club actually called Splash? I didn't! Until now! I am always a stickler for authenticity, and she made it happen), beckaandzac, and kittyzams. Thanks to winterweathered for answering a nitpicky question. And of course, as always, to my sounding board and butthole extraordinaire, lazy_daze. Thank you to wendy, audrarose, and thehighwaywoman, both for running an amazing challenge and for making accommodations to fit my lame schedule. <333!And of course, immense, awe-filled thanks to
cathybites, for a) encouraging me way back when and wanting to see this monstrosity in the first place, and b) for the AMAZING art she drew. How perfect! Please don't forget to go visit the Art Post and leave her lots of love and gushing praise. MWAH!PEE ESS: There is so gonna be an outtake where they have kinky fishtail sex. Just you wait. I didn't do all that research on dolphin penises for nothing.
