Archive of Our Own

Jared figured that being afraid of water probably wasn't a big deal if you lived somewhere like Kansas or Arizona or somewhere else dry and landlocked. Not that geography was exactly Jared's specialty, but he was pretty sure neither of those states had anything to do with an ocean. And it's not like Jared was afraid of small amounts of water--glasses or bottles or puddles or whatever. He didn't even get panicked about backyard swimming pools, not that he would get into one himself unless he was on fire.

Being afraid of water turned out to be a pretty big deal, unfortunately, when you live in North Carolina a stone's throw from the Atlantic Ocean. Especially when your parents, your mother and father whom you love, have decided to spend their semi-retirement running a bed and breakfast on a small island a couple miles off the coast of North Carolina. Jared didn't like to think of himself as a wimp. He wasn't afraid of bugs or spiders or heights. He'd grown up never living more than an hour from the beach, and one of his earliest memories was learning how to swim in a mommy and me class at the YMCA. He could remember his mother telling him to make a chipmunk face and blowing her cheeks out to show him. He'd laughed and laughed and ducked his head under the water, utterly without fear.

He'd probably weighed 30 pounds then, and now he was closer to 230, but he couldn't take that simple step of trusting his body to the water, trusting the water to hold him and then give him back.

Everything had changed last summer. Chad, Jared's best friend from college, came out to visit--hang out, pick up some girls, play beach bum for a week before heading back to his job in Chicago. They rented a boat for the day, and Jared never did know exactly what happened. They started taking on water, and they were bailing like crazy. They weren't far from shore and both of them were good swimmers, but the last thing they wanted to do was lose the boat. They'd put down a deposit, for Christ's sake. So they bailed, and they bailed, and far too late Jared realized that they were never going to get the boat back to shore. It was sinking, ducking down below the thankfully-calm waves, and Chad jumped out, yelled for Jared to follow.

And Jared would have followed. He totally would have--he had no intention of going down with some random fiberglass boat, no thanks. Except his foot was stuck, stuck solid, and the boat was nothing more than a giant anchor pulling him down. Jared was a strong guy and a strong swimmer, but he couldn't push up through the water against all of that weight. So he went down. Down under the water.

It would have been better, he thought, if he'd been knocked out first, hit his head on the side of the boat before he went under the surface. But he was wide awake. He drew in one huge lungful of air just as he got pulled under, and that was it. The air turned to burning poison in his chest and he had to let it go, let the bubbles of air travel up where he wanted to go. Then it hurt all over, his whole body starving for air, and he felt himself start to die. He felt the heavy, slow beats of his heart and the rush of water into his lungs like it was made of ice or knives as the world started to go dark.

The best he could figure it, he passed out just before the boat finally let his foot go, wrenching the hell out of his tendons along the way, just before Chad dived down and grabbed him, saving his life.

Everybody said Jared was lucky. He had to have a bunch of physical therapy but six months after the accident his ankle was okay, just a little sore some days, like if he stood around too much. He hadn't stopped breathing long enough to get brain damage--not any worse than he started with, Jared liked to joke, like it was all okay. The worst thing was his lungs. Apparently there was a lot of crap in the water he breathed in and he didn't get all of it out fast enough. So he ended up with pneumonia and maybe it didn't go away all the way, so he got it again. He was okay now, off the antibiotics and everything, but his lungs were fucked up probably for good. His asthma was usually controlled just fine by the medicine he took daily but he had a hard time with some things. Like smoke.

That was the thing that really sucked. Jared went to school to study History, but what he really knew how to do to earn a paycheck was tending bar. Given that tending bar involved standing around all night in a smoky room, Jared was pretty much fucked. Chad had pushed him to sue the boat rental place, and he still had some money from the settlement, but it wasn't a lot. Everybody was helping him out. Sam, his old boss from the bar, was letting him stay in the apartment over her garage. She called it the bar's short term disability policy. His parents and his big brother were helping him out with bills because the settlement was mostly paying for his medical costs and the twice-weekly visits to his shrink.

There was something he liked about the fact that his shrink's name was the same as his brother's: Jeff. His brother Jeff lived a couple of hours away, and Jared understood that he was busy focusing on his career and his wife and kids, just the same as he understood that his sister was busy with college up in New York. And his parents--they were so close, and he talked to them all the time. They'd come to stay with him for a while after her got hurt, but then they had to go home. They'd taken turns visiting again another couple of times, and he talked to his mother every day, but they hadn't been back to the mainland in two months. There wasn't enough Xanax in the world to get him on a boat to the island.

Jared was pretty sure they were trying not to enable his phobia or something like that, encourage him to get back on a boat to come see them instead of always coming to see him. And he understood that, but his phobia wasn't illogical. It wasn't unreasonable. The water was huge and powerful and deadly. It had tried to kill him, had permanently harmed him, and he didn't see why he was expected to make peace with that.

But Jeff the shrink was cool. He wasn't actually a psychiatrist or even a psychologist--he was some kind of a social worker, but Sam had recommended him and Jared could only wish he had a head on his shoulders as steady as Sam's was. Jeff's office was laid back--overstuffed sofas and armchairs covered with Mexican blankets, colorful swirly paintings on the walls. Jeff liked to sit in one of the armchairs with his bare feet up on a table, and he didn't have any kind of notebook in his hands when they talked. Obviously, his job was to get Jared to the point where he could function like a normal person in a beach town--he didn't want to have to avoid routes that would have him driving next to the water, and he didn't want to have to take pills to sleep on the nights when it was quiet enough for him to hear the surf six blocks away from the ocean.

But Jeff wasn't pushing him to get on a boat or wade in or anything like that. He just wanted Jared to go watch a guy build a boat. Not on the water or anything, just in a backyard one town over. Jared thought he could manage that--not like he had a hell of a lot else to do.

~~~

Jared found the house without getting lost, and it was the kind of place he liked--small and worn-looking but solid at the same time. Not fussy or new or fake. He walked up to the front door, but before he could knock he heard the rasp of a saw moving through wood coming from the back yard. He followed the sound around the side of the house until he saw it--the bare, partial skeleton of a boat sitting underneath an old metal open-sided car port. The man doing the sawing had his back turned to Jared, his focus on a makeshift worktable cobbled together from plywood and saw-horses.

At first glance, he wasn't anything like what Jared had been imagining. Jeff hadn't said much about the man himself other than his vocation or avocation or whatever building boats was. For some reason Jared had assumed it would be a guy his dad's age or older, some gray-haired, pot-bellied guy puttering away his retirement building boats instead of buying them like everybody else. The guy looked young, at least from the back --sandy brown hair with no bald spot, nice broad back flexing under his dirty t-shirt tapering down to a slim waist and sincerely nice ass. Jared walked around to the far side of the car port, hoping to get into the guy's field of vision without freaking him out.

The sawing stopped then, and the guy turned to look at Jared, pushing his plastic safety glasses up to the top of his head. He was gorgeous, a slight sunburn on his cheeks bringing out the green of his eyes, and he didn't look more than a few years older than Jared. And he had an unlit cigarette clamped in between his lips. "Hey," he said, smiling briefly. "Jared?"

Jared waved his hand in the air, feeling awkward. "Yeah, that's me." He knew Jeff hadn't told this guy more than the basics--that he wanted to watch somebody build a boat-- but he still felt strangely exposed. "Are you, um, Jensen?"

"That's me. This girl doesn't have a name yet." He gestured at the work in progress. "I always figure it out before I'm done, but I haven't gotten to know her that well yet."

"Oh." Jared felt stupid, showing up here like some kind of boat builder wannabe and not really knowing anything about boats other than how to get them in the water and steer them. And sink them. He swallowed hard against the thought and watched as Jensen put his saw down and walked out into the yard, away from the pile of sawdust, and lit his cigarette.

"You want one?" Jensen asked, holding it out toward Jared.

Jared took a couple of quick steps back, afraid that the open air between them wouldn't be enough, that he'd feel that tightening of his lungs. His rescue inhaler was in his back pocket, but he didn't like the way it made him feel, too much like the panic of looking at water from up close.

"Guess not." Jensen smirked around his cigarette.

"Sorry, I'm--" Jared shrugged, not really wanting to explain. "Allergic."

Jensen nodded and walked a few more feet away, and Jared noticed a hitch in his step as he crossed the scrubby grass. He wanted to ask but he didn't; his own story was messed up enough. "So, it's okay if I come out and watch you sometimes?"

"Yeah, it doesn't bother me. I'm here most every day, off and on."

"You do this full-time?" Jared had assumed it had to be a hobby, that Jensen had a real job somewhere like most people other than Jared did.

"Yep. Ackles Wooden Boats, LTD." He spelled out the abbreviation, el-tee-dee.

"Awesome. Anyway, thanks."

Jensen nodded and sucked down the smoke of a second cigarette before going back to work. Jared watched him saw and sand and tried to imagine how this was going to help him stop being afraid of water. Every now and then he caught a glance from Jensen, a spark of curiosity and maybe interest from behind his safety glasses, but he didn't ask any questions. A couple of hours later, Jared left and drove home and thought that yeah, he wouldn't mind going back there again.

~~~

Jensen didn't ask questions, and Jared tried to return the favor but he really couldn't keep his mouth shut sometimes. He was quieter these days than he used to be but still--he just wasn't cut out for silence, even if it was nice sometimes just to sit on the old lawn chair Jensen set out and listen to the rasp of Jensen's saw, the pounding of his hammer, the hiss of the steamer he used to help bend wood.

"Have you always done this?" He asked Jensen the third day he went to watch him work.

"No, used to build houses. But, you know, the market's for shit these days and nobody wants to hire a guy who's no good on ladders and won't go near power tools."

"Afraid of heights?" As soon as Jared asked, he wanted to hit himself. Like he was in any position to ask about fear.

"Nah," Jensen said. "Just kinda hard to balance on a ladder with this thing." He pulled up the bottom of his jeans, and just above the top of Jensen's left boot Jared could see that his leg tapered into a thin metal tube.

"Oh." Jared wasn't sure what he was really supposed to say. He wanted to say that he'd been working his legs at the gym that morning and that his ankle ached some where the tendons were still messed up. He wanted to say that it could've been him, that the boat could've pulled his foot right off, kept part of him down at the bottom of the ocean for the fish to eat. Kept part of him for real instead of just the phantom piece of himself that was missing that made everything feel like it wasn't right anymore. But just thinking about saying that made his hands shake, and he knew the words would come out all wrong so he kept his mouth shut.

~~~

Jared really didn't think that sitting around in Jensen's back yard watching him work was helping with his phobia, but Jeff said to stick with it for a few weeks. And it wasn't a hardship, after all, watching Jensen work--the flex of his back and his biceps, the outline of his ass as he bent over the lower edge of the boat. He could see the way the prosthetic affected Jensen's movements, but he seemed at home with the injury.

"You like fishing?" Jensen asked, out of the blue.

"Sure," Jared answered without thinking. Because he did like fishing, he always had.

"I've got a boat down at the marina, one of mine that I kept. If you want, we could go see the finished product, get out on the water and catch some dinner."

And just like that, in Jared's head he was on the boat. In the boat, being sucked into the ocean, and the darkness when he closed his eyes was the darkness of the water closing in around him. The pain in his chest was the pain of his lungs starving for oxygen.

"Hey, hey," somebody was saying. Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him a little, and when he opened his eyes Jensen was in front of him. Smoke was curling up into his face from the cigarette in Jensen's mouth, and Jared tried to pull away but there was nowhere to go. He wheezed, pulling hardly any air into his lungs and as he struggled, trying to get to his rescue inhaler, Jensen's eyes went wide and he jerked away, dropping his cigarette to the ground and grinding it under the heel of his good foot.

"Sorry, sorry, hey," Jensen said, reaching for Jared again, but Jared finally had the inhaler in his hand. He shook it hard and popped the cap off and then stuck it in his mouth and inhaled the stinging medicine. He held it in for a long second and then breathed out as best he could before taking another puff of the medicine. He breathed it out, and finally he was getting air, but his heart was racing and he could feel ridiculously embarrassing tears in his eyes.

"You okay?" Jensen asked, voice low and quiet.

Jared nodded and stood up shakily, wiping a hand over his face. "I guess I should go."

"You okay to drive? Want me to run you home?"

The thought of being stuck inside a car with the smell of Jensen's smoke made Jared's lungs start to feel tight again, but Jensen had a point about not being good to drive yet. "Maybe if I just sit out here a little longer? Then drive myself home?" He hoped that would be okay, that he hadn't freaked Jensen out with his performance.

"No problem, stay as long as you want." Jensen sounded like he meant it and Jared felt himself start to relax.

~~~

After that, Jensen made a point to never get too close, but strangely enough they were talking more. Jared felt less like the weird guy lurking in the background and more like the spectacularly useless friend who came over to watch Jensen work, which was its own kind of improvement.

Jensen had his back to Jared, his focus on bending wood to shape the sides of the boat, when he started talking. "So, you don't have to answer, but I'm gonna ask. What happened?"

"Um." Jared took a breath, felt that his chest was okay. "I was out on a boat, not far off the coast last year. It sank. I drowned, or, you know…almost drowned." He swallowed, tasting the phantom tang of salt water that was always in the air, and squeezed his hands tight around the aluminum armrests of the lawn chair. When he looked up, Jensen was standing with his back to the worktable, his glasses off, his eyes naked and gentle.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

Jared smirked as best he could. "What's your definition of okay?"

Jensen raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in acknowledgement. "What kind of boat was it?"

"Generic motor boat, few meters long I guess." Jared shrugged. "Fiberglass."

Jensen nodded and took a couple of hitched steps over to run his hand along the curved ribs of his boat. "I know there are plus sides to all the modern building materials, but nothing's the same as wood, to me. Before you even do anything to it, wood knows how to float. And it comes from the land, the same way we do. I'm not saying you should go back out on the water--I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But if you ever want to, I'll show you a boat you can trust."

"O-okay." Jared nodded, and he found himself believing for the first time that maybe someday, someday he could go out on the water again.

~~~

A few days later, Jared showed up in Jensen's back yard with a pair of work gloves and a fancy breathing mask he'd bought at the hardware store. Jensen just looked at him with one raised eyebrow but didn't ask.

"I was thinking I could help. You know, hands on. The mask should keep me from breathing in wood dust. And, and stuff." He didn't like to mention the smoking thing, given that this was Jensen's property, Jensen's life. He'd noticed that when Jensen got focused on his work he could go hours without a smoke, but as soon as he took a break he was lighting one off the end of another, filling up his oversized coffee can with crumpled butts.

"Okay. If I mark some boards, you think you could cut them to length? You know how to use a saw?"

"Yeah, man. I used to help my dad before they sold the house and moved out to the island."

"Just take it slow and let me know if you have any questions."

The angle was different than anything Jared did at the gym, and his triceps were aching before he got through the second board. "You ever think of using an electric saw?"

"Hell, no," Jensen said, not turning around. Jared cringed, remembering that Jensen had said something about not wanting to use power tools when he was in construction.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how much quicker it would be with a circular s--"

"NO." Jensen repeated sharply, and Jared shut up fast. Jensen's hand was shaking where he had it flat over the side of the boat.

"It's okay," Jensen said after a moment, his voice as raspy as a saw.

Jared wanted to reach out and touch him, put a steady hand on his back, but he wasn't sure if it would be okay.

~~~

The next day, when Jared got to the house Jensen wasn't working. He was on the front porch fondling a pack of cigarettes with a small cooler next to his hip. "I was thinking, and I have an idea. You can say no if you want."

"Okay." Jared hung back, not sure about this sudden change in their usual dynamic.

"There's a creek a couple miles away." Jared felt his eyes go wide, and Jensen held up a hand. "Just small, would barely hit your knees at the deepest bend. But there's some fish in it. Nothing worth eating, but not a bad way to spend a couple hours."

Jared knew the creek; his dad had taken him and his brother there when they were little. He'd probably taken Megan too, when he and Jeff were too old to go creek fishing with Dad. It was always shallow, and they hadn't had enough rain to make it swell up much. And it wasn't far. If it wasn't okay, if he wasn't okay, he could always leave. He found himself nodding shallowly. "All right.”

Jensen smiled and stood up from the porch. "We should take your car. I got some patches." He pulled up his sleeve to show Jared the clear nicotine patch on his arm. "I aired out my clothes, but my car probably reeks."

"Thanks," Jared said, meaning it. Jensen didn't owe him this, but he appreciated it all the same.

The drive to the creek was over way too fast. Jared found himself distracted on the couple hundred yard walk from the car to the water; he carried the cooler and some of the gear but Jensen still had a hard time on the muddy, uneven ground and Jared kept a hand on his arm to keep him steady. It was the most they'd touched since Jared's embarrassing panic attack/asthma attack combo, and Jared couldn't help but wish that they'd met differently; that Jeff had been a friend setting them up on a date, rather than a therapist sending Jared on therapy assignments.

When Jensen finally opened up his camping chair and sat down, Jared stood next to him, looking at the water. Shallow and narrow as it was, he hadn't been so close to a body of water since he'd freaked out trying to get on the ferry to go visit his parents. He'd totally panicked, blacked out, passed out on a couple of strangers, and it was after that he agreed to start seeing Jeff. Still, there wasn't any way he could drown in this creek unless somebody knocked him out and held his head under water...and that was really not a good thought to have.

"Hey," Jensen's voice broke him out of his reverie. "Why don't you sit down, grab a drink out of the cooler?"

Jared nodded and unfolded his chair then opened up the cooler. He was expecting beer but what he found was some cans of Coke and orange soda with a few ham & cheese sandwiches on top. He grabbed a Coke and passed one to Jensen. "I could've brought some beer if you'd given me a heads up."

"I really don't drink." Jensen cracked his can open and set it in his chair's cup holder then leaned over to open up his tackle box. Jared got his own line set and cast out into the water, feeling something inside himself settle when the lure hit the water with that familiar wet plonk.

It wasn't hard, being quiet with Jensen. They weren't catching much of anything, but their elbows and shoulders would brush together sometimes as they moved, and the day was cool but sunny. Comfortable. And Jared wasn't afraid. They ate their sandwiches, and then out of nowhere Jensen started talking.

"I know it would be faster with power tools. My friend Chris likes to push me, tells me I'd get the boats done faster, make more money, take a few months off just to fish and maybe actually go somewhere in one of the boats." Jensen shrugged. "But I like working the way I do, and--" He took a breath, let it out as a tight sigh. "If you're careless with a hand saw, you end up with a little scratch, worst case maybe some stitches. This--" He pointed at his missing foot. "This is what happens when you show up drunk to the work site one too many times, when you use power tools."

"Shit. They let you work like that? Nobody said anything, they let you hurt yourself?"

Jensen snorted out a laugh. "I might've been the only queer on most of those crews, but I was far from the only drunk."

"Oh," Jared said. And then he ran the sentence back through his head again and cast a sideways look at Jensen. "Oh."

"So, you know, I'm sober now but I still respect working the old fashioned way. I hope you're okay with that."

"I'm totally okay with it." Jared hoped it was clear what he meant, and when Jensen looked over at him and smiled, his eyes brighter than Jared had ever seen before, he knew that Jensen understood.

~~~

Jared got a cold, and thanks to his stupid fucking lungs the cold wanted to turn into bronchitis. It wasn't that serious, but Jared's doctor wanted him to rest, stay out of the cool, early spring air, stay away from the gym. It was boring as hell, and Jared realized that as much time as they'd spent together he didn't even have Jensen's phone number. He found a bare bones website for Jensen's business but no phone number so he sent an e-mail and hoped it didn't go to some account Jensen never checked. He didn't even know if Jensen had a computer, since he'd never been inside the house.

The next day, when he was sitting around brainstorming about what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life, he heard somebody climbing the stairs that ran along the side of Sam's garage, and the tread sounded a good bit heavier and slower than Sam's. He went to the door, wondering if maybe one of the guys he used to work with had come to say hi, and found Jensen standing at the top of the stairs looking sheepish. "Hey!" Jared felt a tickle in his throat and had to stifle a cough with his fist.

Jensen frowned. "I know it's probably not a good time, but I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"No, it's cool. Come on in."

Jensen walked inside. When Jared waved him at his tiny table, Jensen sat down and Jared took the chair opposite him. Jensen looked down at his fingers on the scarred wooden table. "You know, I actually feel weird working without you there. It's like this boat's connected to you now."

Jared blushed, though he wasn't too sure why. "She's going to be a good boat."

Jensen nodded, and Jared didn't know what to do to stop feeling awkward now that neither of them had any tools or fishing gear in their hands.

"I should be good to come back out in a few days. I just--" The tickle came back, deep in Jared's chest this time, and there was nothing he could do but cough. It was a good cough, getting gunk up out of his lungs, but it still hurt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jensen stand up, coming around behind him, and the gentle pressure of Jensen's hand and arm on his back felt good. When his lungs were clear enough, he took a deep breath and felt the sting again, along with a familiar tightness. He coughed out some gunk into a tissue and then grabbed his inhaler and took a puff. Jensen moved closer, and Jared shook him off.

Jensen came back around to stand in front of Jared, a few feet away, and when Jared looked up he saw that Jensen's eyes were wide, nervous.

"I'm sorry. It's--" A small cough surprised him. "I'm sorry, but I think it's the smoke in your clothes."

Jensen frowned, and his eyes went dark, but then he just nodded. "No, I'm sorry. I'll go."

Jared had to close his eyes as he coughed again, and when he opened them Jensen was gone, the last unsteady echoes of Jensen's tread on the stairs audible from below.

~~~

The first thing Jensen said to Jared when he came out a few days later was, "I think you should go back home."

Jared felt a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with asthma or bronchitis.

"No, no, shit, don't look at me like that," Jensen said, shaking his head. "Look, I'm trying to quit smoking, and I'm going to be an asshole. I might fuck up, and the last think I want is for you to get sick again."

"Oh." Jared had no idea what to say. He had no call to ask Jensen to make that kind of huge lifestyle adjustment on his behalf, but then again he hadn't asked. The pain inside Jared mellowed into something nice, something warm. He smiled, and Jensen smiled back, ducking his head as he blushed.

"Can you give me a week? Another week and either I find out I can't hack it or I'm over the worst. Okay?"

"You don't have to, you know."

"I know." Jensen nodded. "So, go on. Get some sun, you look pale."

"I'm like ten shades darker than you."

Jensen rolled his eyes and then turned back to the boat. "See you in a week."

On the way home, Jared took the road he never drove on anymore, the one that used to be his favorite. As he came around the bend that took him within easy sight of the water, he felt his heart speed up. "It's okay," he told himself. "It's okay." And he didn't pass out, and the water didn't reach up and pull him down to die in the dark. He got home, and he felt himself shaking a little like he'd just taken a puff of Albuterol, but he was okay.

~~~

The week of rest while he was sick made everything feel harder at the gym, except for one thing. Jared found that no matter how many standing exercises he did, even if he got on the treadmill for cardio, his ankle was okay. He felt kind of silly, being so happy about his ankle when his lungs were still messed up and he still couldn't get on a boat, but Jeff told him that it made sense, that celebrating his progress was okay. He told Jeff what was going on with Jensen, too, that Jensen was quitting smoking. Quitting smoking for Jared. Jeff just smiled like he wasn't at all surprised.

The day he was due back at Jensen's, Jared got an e-mail from Jensen asking to meet him on the street out in front of Sam's place at two in the afternoon. Just before, two, Jensen's pickup truck came rolling down the street towing the boat on a trailer. Jared walked up next to the trailer and put his hand on the boat before Jensen even had the truck fully stopped. The boat wasn't finished--the wood was bare, and it was hollow inside with no mast for the sails--but she was solid. No more visible skeleton, no more gaps between the boards.

Jensen came around to stand next to Jared, and he smelled like pine and mint and not at all of smoke. He put his hand on Jared's where Jared was palming the side of the boat. "I have an idea, but you can say no if you're not ready."

"Okay," Jared said, his stomach suddenly tight.

"I need to test her to make sure she holds water." Jared dropped his hand from the boat, but Jensen kept his grip, holding Jared's hand right there in the middle of the street. "My friend Steve is going to meet me at the beach, and he'll be the one in charge of anchoring the line and pulling me in if anything goes wrong." Jensen squeezed Jared's hand harder. "But I'd like you to be there, if you think you can. You're a part of this boat, and you should see the first time she floats."

Jared closed his eyes and thought about being that close to the water. He thought about the boat with Jensen in it, so small, surrounded by so much water. "I, um, I have to go, go back up to my place for a minute."

"You want me to come with you?"

"No, just give me five minutes, okay?"

Jensen nodded and let go of Jared's hand. "I'll be here."

Jared turned and ran. He ran up the stairs and stood in the shadows in his apartment, trying to decide what to do. His phobia wasn't irrational, but standing on the beach--that couldn't really be dangerous. There wasn’t going to be a tidal wave for God's sake. It was nice out--they weren't going to get a storm. If it was too hard, if he couldn't take it he could go back up to the road and wait for Jensen to be done. He made sure he had his rescue inhaler in his pocket and then grabbed the bottle of pills he didn't like taking for anxiety, pocketed them too.

When Jared got back down to the street, Jensen was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the truck. When Jared nodded, Jensen smiled and came to meet him halfway.

~~~

When they first arrived, Jared didn't have a lot of time to stand around freaking out over the water and how big and close it was. First thing, as soon as they got out of the truck, he met Jensen's friend Steve. Steve was a little shorter than Jensen but reasonably tall, and he looked strong enough to handle a boat to keep Jensen safe. He was mellow, hugging Jared like they were old friends and showing him what they needed to do to get the boat down to the water. Jensen made his own way, struggling a little in the loose sand with the help of a cane Jared had never seen before, and Jared and Steve pushed the boat out until it lay mostly on the firm, damp sand near the waterline.

When he stepped out from behind the boat, the sight of the water, so close and somehow both dark and sparkling in the afternoon sun, startled Jared. He'd known it was there, of course. He'd been walking toward it the whole time, but the reality of it overwhelmed him. The smell and the taste of salt on his tongue was like being surrounded by water again, swallowing it, drowning in it. Jared stumbled back a few steps until the soft sand started to fall away under his heels and then he dropped, landing hard on his ass. His stomach clenched and shivered and he dropped his head between his knees trying not to puke up all the briny water that wasn't in there.

Jensen sat down next to him, playing with his cane and drawing abstract designs in the sand. "I can take you home if you want."

"No." Jared shook his head. "I think I can do this, I just need a minute."

"We've got time." Jensen looped his arm around Jared's shoulders and started lazily massaging away the tightness at the base of Jared's neck.

"I used to love it out here, you know? I'd beg my mom to bring us out when I was a kid, and in high school I got a crappy job selling ice cream just so I had an excuse to spend the weekends and most of the summer out here. It was like the place where everything inside felt good with what was outside, and now all I can think is that it wants to kill me."

Jensen was quiet for a minute, just rubbing Jared's neck and rearranging his legs a little in the sand. "This is not to say I don't respect how you feel because I do, but you ever think maybe it wasn't the water?"

"Huh?" Jared glanced up at the water and felt his heart speed up again until he looked back at Jensen.

"The water's just there like--like gravity. It's so huge, so far beyond what we can really wrap our heads around, but I know you're not scared of heights and the water's pretty much the same thing. What you should be afraid of is shitty boats and irresponsible assholes who rent them out." Jensen slid his hand down from Jared's shoulders to hold him more tightly around the waist. "It was the boat that tried to kill you, the water was just there. And I'm glad as hell that the boat's at the bottom of the ocean and you're still here."

Jared tried to think of it that way, and it made a certain kind of sense. His brain wasn't working very well beyond the touch of Jensen's hand on his waist, the light pressure of Jensen's fingers amazingly close to the front of his pants. He wasn't sure that he actually felt any better about the water, but his stomach felt steady and he was ready to stand up and get on with watching Jensen test the boat. "Thanks," he said. "Um, I want to do something."

"Yeah?"

Jared turned a little in Jensen's grip, sliding in the sand, and tipped his head down to meet Jensen's lips. Jensen opened his mouth in a small gasp and then relaxed into the kiss, and his mouth tasted like coffee and sugar and not salty at all. Jared pulled back and smiled, liking the soft look in Jensen's eyes. "That was for good luck."

Jensen licked his lips and then grinned as he pushed himself to his feet with the help of the cane. "Thanks."

"Hey." Jared looked around, suddenly embarrassed about his freak-out and subsequent public display of affection. "Where's Steve?"

"Down there." Jensen pointed to a figure a few hundred yards down the beach. "I sent him down there to smoke." He waved his hands in the air and Steve came jogging back.

Steve looked tranquil as ever, not apparently upset about the wait or the exile. "Ready to get this boat in the water?"

"Yeah, man," Jensen said to Steve. Turning to Jared, he pointed at the dry sand. "You're going to be totally fine if you stay here and watch, but if you need to go wait for us up at the truck that's okay too. Right?"

"Right." Jared made himself smile even as Jensen stepped closer to the water. Steve had a thick rope tied to the boat, the other end wrapped around a pylon that was sunk deep into the beach. He and Jensen pushed the boat into the water and Jensen hopped inside. The small waves pulled the boat in towards the sand but then out a little further, unraveling more of the rope from its heavy loops. The boat dipped down into the water, and Jared's heart pounded, his thoughts racing with panic of what might happen before they could get Jensen on land. He couldn't help himself; he jumped up to his feet and ran to stand next to Steve, not even realizing that he was standing on wet sand. "You gotta pull him in, it's sinking!"

"Dude." Steve put a hand on Jared's shoulder and squeezed. "That's normal displacement. You know how it should look, right?" He pointed at Jensen, who waved back. "She's stable, floating good, just bobbing in the water."

Jared wanted to cover his eyes, wanted more than anything not to see the water take Jensen away from him. He looked over at Steve, who didn't seem worried at all, and then looked out at Jensen. He couldn't see Jensen's face, but Jensen wasn't moving like he was nervous. He wasn't bailing water out with his hands. He wasn't flailing his arms in panic. He was checking out the sides of the boat, doing his job. He was okay. Jared shoved his hands in his pockets and stood watching as the water held up Jensen's boat, cradling it.

Then Jensen gave a big thumbs-up sign, and Steve started pulling the boat in. Since he was standing there anyway, Jared helped, liking the process of bringing Jensen in closer. As soon as the boat hit the beach and Jensen clambered over the side to land awkwardly on the sand, Jared left the rope to Steve and went over to wrap his arms around Jensen. Jensen was warm and solid in his arms and the water hadn't taken either one of them, and it was okay. Against his hip, he felt a change in pressure, Jensen's cock hard against him. For months, Jared's libido had been drowned under his fears and uncertainties, but it was surfacing. Fast.

Jared stepped back, sure that if he didn't they were going to end up arrested for public indecency. "Wow," he breathed.

"Yeah," Jensen replied, looking about as coherent as Jared felt. "So, let's get the boat back up to the truck. You want to come out tomorrow? Help me get her finished up?"

Jared nodded yes, yes. Helping finish the boat was only one of many things he wanted.

~~~

The next afternoon, Jared greeted Jensen with a hug, marveling at how awesome it was that Jensen didn't smell like smoke anymore. "So, you think there's any chance we could play hooky today, maybe hang out...inside?"

Jensen shifted away, looking nervous. "I need to work. If you don't want to help or watch or whatever, that's cool."

"That's not what I meant." Jared reached out and put his hand on Jensen's forearm. "You know that's not what I meant."

Jensen closed his eyes and leaned back against the side of the boat. "I'm afraid my house would still make you sick. Smoke in the carpet, the upholstery, the walls. I don't want you to get sick."

"Oh." Jared hadn't thought of that. "Well, what about my place?"

Jensen opened his eyes but looked down, frowning.

"Shit, I'm sorry if I misunderstood. I'll just--" Jared took a step back, feeling his heart in his throat. "I'll forget about it, okay?"

Jensen looked up and took a step closer. "No, no." He squirmed, looking unhappy. "I'm just not sure if you really want to deal with this." He gestured at his bad leg.

"Seriously?" Jared just didn't get Jensen sometimes. "I'm not scared of that. I mean, I know that's what you know me for--being scared. But that's not who I am."

"I know that, you're braver than most people. Just, it's not pretty. And people don't like to see it."

Jared kind of wanted to know who people were so he could tell them off for making Jensen doubt this. "It's fair, I guess, since the rest of you is so pretty. Things have to balance out or the fabric of the universe might fall apart."

Jensen blushed. "You're such a dork."

"I know. So, this evening you could come meet me, get dinner, have a real date? Then maybe go back to my place?"

Jensen ducked his head. "Sounds like a good plan. As long as we actually get some work done first."

"Deal! Just show me what I need to do."

Jensen handed Jared a hammer, and they both got to work, trading glances over the top of the boat.

~~~

Dinner was good, if a little weird. Both of them wore neat button-down shirts and dark pants without any holes or stains, which was a world of difference from their usual work clothes. It was still the off-season, so the little Mexican place that would be so crowded in a couple months was quiet. They laughed and ate and tried to keep the beans and salsa off their good shirts. They walked back to Jared's place and stood at the bottom of the stairs, and Jared was about ready to pull Jensen up the stairs himself if he had to.

"Are you sure?" Jensen asked, rubbing a little at his leg. "We can take it slow if you want."

"I think this has been, like, the definition of slow. But if you're not comfortable--"

"No." Jensen stepped in and wrapped a hand around the back of Jared's head, kissing him. "Let's go up."

Jared followed Jensen up the stairs, frowning when he realized that Jensen was limping more than usual. "Hey, are you okay?"

Jensen shrugged and nodded his head as Jared unlocked the door and they stepped inside. "Just some muscle cramps. I've been kind of beating it up the last few days. Too much running around in the, um, prosthesis."

Jared felt immediately guilty--he'd suggested the date, had them walk to and from the restaurant. He hadn't even thought. "Shit. Will you let me try and help?"

Jensen looked uncertain, then his mouth twisted and he sat down in Jared's old overstuffed chair and rubbed at his leg again. "Maybe some Tylenol or something?"

"Sure." Jared grabbed the medicine and a bottle of water, stuck a small bottle of massage oil in his pocket, and came back to crouch in front of Jensen, offering the open bottle of water and a couple of pills.

Jensen took them both and swallowed down the pills. "Thanks."

"Man, I hate to see you hurting. Why don't you let me see if I can help. I'm not half bad at massage."

Jensen rubbed at a cramp and winced, but shook his head. "You shouldn't have to see it."

"What do you think, we're gonna have sex with our clothes on? Or the lights off, eyes closed? I mean, unless I'm way off base here."

"Not off base," Jensen said, looking away.

"So, come on. Take off your pants and your…your foot, and let me try to make you feel good."

"You just want to get me out of my pants." Jensen smirked weakly.

"Not gonna lie." Jared stood up and extended a hand out to Jensen. "Come on."

Jensen took the help to stand up and then unbuttoned his pants, dropping them to pool on the floor. When he sat down, he took the boot off his good foot then unstrapped the prosthesis connecting his other leg to his boot and rolled down a sock-like thing that was covering his leg. Jared sank down to sit in front of Jensen and looked at more closely. There were scars, though not as bad as Jared had imagined it might be, and the skin looked kind of pink and irritated. Otherwise, it was pretty normal until it just stopped about two-thirds of the way down the calf. He pulled the small glass bottle out of his pocket and held it up for Jensen to look at.

"Is this okay?"

Jensen nodded. "I can't believe you're just sitting there."

"I run from water, not scars." He poured a bit of the oil into his cupped palm and then spread it out over both hands. When he first wrapped his hands around Jensen's calf, he felt Jensen jerk and then go still. "I kind of like scars, you know." He started gently, just rubbing over Jensen's skin, warming up the muscles underneath. "They show what you've survived."

Jensen took a deep, shuddery breath as Jared started working his thumbs into the cramping muscles, but he didn't ask Jared to stop. Jared kept working until he felt the muscle soften, until he saw Jensen sinking deeper into the cushions of the chair. He turned to work on Jensen's other leg, figuring it was tense too from doing extra work. Jensen moaned as Jared rubbed his knuckles into the sole of his foot, and Jared smiled, glad that he hadn't lost his touch. He sat back, keeping one hand lightly on each of Jensen's legs, and looked at Jensen--relaxed back into the chair with his legs spread, his eyes closed, stripped down to his boxers on the bottom.

Jared knelt up and slid his hands to rest on Jensen's well-muscled thighs. Jensen opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. "Thanks."

"My pleasure." He reached out to tug at the front of Jensen's shirt. "But you're wearing too many clothes."

"I guess that could be remedied."

Jared started to unbutton Jensen's shirt, but Jensen just leaned forward and pulled it over his head, dropped it on the floor. His chest was wonderful, not as built as Jared's own but the light chest hair did nothing to hide how strong he was, pecs leading up to broad shoulders that Jared just had to touch. Jensen pushed up with his good leg and tugged his boxers down over his ass and Jared sank back down to sit on his heels and look at Jensen's cock. It was half-hard, rising up dark against his pale thighs, and Jared bent down to take it in his mouth.

He wrapped his hand around the base to keep from choking himself and between the flick of his tongue and the pressure of his grip Jensen got hard fast. The first drop of pre-come bloomed in his mouth, a bitter, salty tang, and Jared's stomach froze. It was like the water, too much like the water, and he felt himself start to lose it. But then he felt Jensen's hand warm on his back and he remembered that one of the worst things about being in the water was how alone he'd been. But he wasn't alone now, and what he tasted wasn't death, it was life.

He swallowed, breathed in through his nose, and took Jensen deeper, hollowing out his cheeks. He wanted as much of Jensen inside of him as he could get. Struggling with the angle, he reached down and unbuttoned his pants, getting his cock free from the zipper that felt like it was going to permanently maim him he was so hard. Jensen moaned, his thighs trembling underneath Jared's steadying hand, and then came, one hand gripping Jared's shoulder tight as his taste flooded Jared's mouth. Jared took it, swallowed, sat back and breathed. And breathed.

"God." Jensen opened his eyes and looked at Jared, kneeling there with his ass on his heels and his cock hanging out of his open pants. "Come'ere."

Jared pulled off his shirt and shoved his pants down as he stood up. Jensen sat forward and wrapped both hands around Jared's hips, strong hands cupping Jared's ass as he swallowed most of Jared's length and then pulled back, licking at Jared's slit before taking him deeper again. Jared's knees shook and he braced his hands on the top of the chair, taking his weight with his arms. Much too soon, he felt his balls going tight, his stomach muscles trembling, and then he came, wonderful blackness rolling over him until he came back to himself half-kneeling on the chair, draped over Jensen's lap. He rested his head on Jensen's shoulder and just breathed until he felt like he could move without slithering to the floor in a sweaty mess.

He really didn't want to move at all, didn't want to lose contact with Jensen. "So," he said against Jensen's neck. "I think you should stay the night."

"I shouldn't."

"You should. I don't want you to have to put your foot back on and get down the stairs, drive yourself home. You should rest it."

Jensen's hand was firm on his chest, pushing Jared far enough back that they could look at each other. "Is that the only reason?"

"No, it's just the practical reason. The bigger reason is that I don't want to spend tonight a couple miles away from you."

Jensen smiled, his eyes still soft and happy. "Okay, then."

Getting around the apartment was awkward without Jensen's prosthesis or cane, but it was a good excuse to keep touching, keep inside each other's space. When they got into bed, everything was good.

~~~

In the morning, Jensen drove them down to a cafe with an ocean view, and they ate breakfast where Jared could see the water. Looking at the ocean and thinking about his parents on the island just out of sight, thinking about what he'd managed to do the day before, Jared put down his coffee and looked at Jensen. "I wonder if you could do me a favor. Go somewhere with me."

"Sure, where you do want to go?"

"I need to go to the island, go see my parents. I think--I think I can maybe be okay on the ferry as long as I take something to calm down, you know? But I can't go by myself."

"Yeah, of course. When do you want to go?"

"Tomorrow morning, I think? Before I lose my nerve. I'll probably just stay overnight, and then my dad can come with me on the way back." Jared sipped his coffee, trying to contain his nerves. After breakfast, he had to call his mom.

"If you want me to come back and get you, just call and let me know. I don't mind."

"Thanks. Hopefully I won't completely spazz out and fall overboard and die in the most ironic way ever."

Jensen reached across the table, and his hand on Jared's was calming, grounding. "Why the rush to go right now?"

Jared shrugged. "It's almost May. I can't keep living at Sam's place. I mean, she hasn't said anything, but I know she always rents the apartment out in the summer. Last week, my mom told me that there was a job coming available on the island that that would probably work for me, that I could probably get hired for. If this were a month or two ago I would've said no way, no way could I do it, and that would've been the truth. Now? I think I just need to try."

"Okay," Jensen said, squeezing Jared's hand before releasing it.

"Okay?"

"Yep." Jensen smiled, and somehow that smile let Jared believe that things were really going to work out.

~~~

Jared went to see Jeff, and Jeff called Jared's doctor, and between them they decided that it was a good idea for Jared to take two of his anxiety pills before he left to catch the ferry, as long as somebody else was driving. Since Jensen was coming to pick him up, Jared agreed. He really didn't like to take the pills unless it was at night, but he really needed to be able to get on the ferry and stay on the ferry without freaking out. He thought that if he could just do it once and have things go okay that it would be a lot easier to do it the second time, and the third.

When he went home, Jared called his mom to tell her he was coming, and it sounded like she cried a little. If Jared cried a little too, well, nobody saw him.

In the morning, Jared ate his bowl of cereal and took his pills. He stuffed the bottle of pills into his backpack and then sat there thinking. Two pills wasn't a lot. Back when things were really bad--before he started seeing Jeff, when he was sick all the time and freaking out even when he wasn't near the water--he'd been taking two pills every day and still freaking out sometimes. He really needed the trip out to the island to go okay; he didn't think he could take the humiliation of hyperventilating and passing out on that dock again.

He pulled the bottle back out of his pack and took a third pill.

Half an hour later, when Jensen pulled up below, Jared felt pretty good. He had to hold onto the railing as he walked down the stairs because things were just the tiniest bit swimmy, but it was no big deal. He threw his bag into the back of Jensen's pickup and climbed inside.

"Hey, Jensen!"

Jensen looked at him funny for a second and then smiled. "You are so stoned."

"Yeah. Jeff said I should."

"That's cool." Jensen pulled out onto the street. The street that would take them to the dock. And the ferry.

"He told me to take two but I took three." Jared really hadn't meant to say that, but things were just sort of flowing through his mind in a way that seemed okay.

"Huh, really? I guess three instead of two isn't a big deal. But hey, tell me first if you think you want to take any more."

"Okay. I think three is enough."

"Me too. But you'll tell me first?"

"Yep. I think I can tell you anything." Jared didn't mean to say that either.

"You can." Jensen's hand was warm on Jared's leg, and that was nice.

Then they were at the dock. Jensen parked the truck and made sure Jared remembered to grab his backpack, and then they were walking toward the dock. The ferry was already there--they'd timed it that way because Jared really didn't want to have to stand around on the dock talking himself out of getting on the ferry. But the boat was there and Jensen was there and Jared felt okay about it. They bought their tickets and got in line, and just before the last call for boarding was called Jared stepped across the line that separated the dock from the boat.

Even underneath the soft, blanketing layer of medication, Jared could feel his heart speed up, the fear starting to rise up out of his stomach, but then it dissipated, evaporated into mist inside his body. Jensen steered him over to the benches and Jared sat down; Jensen sat down next to him. From his shoulder down to his elbow was a whole warm line of Jensen touching him, and Jared tried to focus on that. With a lurch, the boat started to move away from the dock, and Jared closed his eyes. That didn't feel good, so he opened his eyes and looked out at the sky, at the water under the sky.

The fear inside him was there, like a bird caught in the medicine cage, but Jared could feel that its wings weren't very strong; its beak wasn't very sharp. He thought that before it was like a hawk, so big that it could never be contained inside of him; dangerous, capable of swooping down and taking him away. Now it was something smaller, like a pigeon maybe--ill-fed and almost tame. He thought about trying to explain the birds to Jensen, but he knew it would just sound crazy. He just leaned his shoulder into Jensen's and watched the island as it got closer. He was almost there.

After the boat docked with a shuddering thud that made the fear bird flap its little wings, Jared stood up and Jensen made sure he still had his backpack. Then they walked off the boat and down the dock together. Jared was expecting just his dad to meet him and take him back to their house, but suddenly his mom was there too, and he was hugging them both. As soon as his mom would let go of him he took a step back and looked for Jensen. Jensen was standing a few steps back, sort of half turned away and looking embarrassed.

"Hey!" Jared reached his hand out and snagged Jensen's belt loop with his fingers. "This is Jensen. He's my boyfriend. I think?"

Jensen turned pink and touched a hand to the back of his neck, but he smiled too. And nodded. "Yeah. Hi, I'm Jensen Ackles." He walked closer and shook Jared's parents' hands, and Jared liked that. Everybody else talked for a couple of minutes and Jared just stood looking at the island. He had thought, for a while, that he'd never make it to the island ever again, and it was nice to be wrong about that.

Then Jared's mom was talking to him. "Okay, sweetie, we need to get home. I have a couple checking out this morning."

Jared nodded and turned to give Jensen a hug. Jensen squeezed him tight and whispered, "Remember, call me if you need me," in his ear, but then he turned to get Jared's mom's attention again. "Mrs. Padalecki, excuse me. Jared, you should tell her about the pills."

"What pills?" His mom looked worried, and Jared hated that.

"Oh, I took three instead of two. So, I should tell you if I want to take another one. But I don't. Not until it's time to go home."

"Okay, that's fine." His mom smiled but then turned to touch Jensen's hand again. "Thank you," she said, sounding serious.

Jensen just nodded and then turned around to go get back on the ferry. Jared waved and then walked away.

~~~

The first part of the day was basically toast. Jared took a nap and then wandered downstairs to eat lunch, but by the time he was done eating and had a couple glasses of iced tea in him he felt normal. It was good to be eating at his mom's table again, even if it was actually part of the bed and breakfast. She didn't serve lunch for guests, so it was still just them, just family. His mom had made an appointment for Jared to meet with the director of the Brownell house at 3 pm, and she insisted on ironing the slacks and shirt Jared had brought to wear. It was all a little humiliating--his mom getting him a job interview and getting him dressed--but it was nice, too. She'd been scared too, he could see now that he wasn't so scared himself. She'd been worried that she would lose him to the water or the pneumonia or even the fear, but she didn't have to worry anymore.

Jared borrowed one of the B&B's loaner bikes to ride down to the interview. The Brownell house was a staid historic home, a mansion built by the family who used to own the island. It was filled with antique furniture and decorations with a number of rooms dedicated to displays on island and regional history. It wasn't much, but it was the only museum on the island. The last of the Brownells had left an endowment establishing a foundation for the property, and it required that somebody be kept on staff to live in the home to give tours and oversee the property. In recent years, a small cafe that served lunch had been set up with a view of the gardens, and if Jared got the job he'd have to manage the cafe's staff of two and step in when they needed help.

Jared didn't know about all of it. He'd never lived in a house all by himself, and he'd never managed a cafe, but he'd worked in bars and restaurants for years. However, the tour guide part of the job was exciting, a way to justify four years at college majoring in history. The director, Ms. Smith, was a tall, blonde woman around forty, and she was dressed more casually than Jared, in khaki capris and a sweater set. She explained that she didn't live on the island, just visited from time to time to check up on the property, and that was a huge relief. Jared liked her, but he didn't like the idea of doing his job with somebody looking over his shoulder the whole time.

She showed him the house, including the suite on the third floor that was set aside for the staff member's residence. It had its own little kitchenette, which would make the place feel a lot more like living in an apartment than rattling around a huge house by himself. When she took him into the attic with its questionable treasures, the dust set off a bout of wheezing bad enough to make him use his inhaler, but he knew that just meant he needed to use a mask any time he was going to work in there. It was manageable. The cafe was manageable too, just ten small tables and a menu of simple sandwiches and things like quiches and soups that would be made ahead. And it was non-smoking, in deference to protecting the antique furnishings.

After the tour, Ms. Smith sat Jared down for a short interview, but it soon became clear that they didn't have any other truly qualified applicants. The job required a certain amount of physical stamina--walking around, up and down the stairs all day, carrying in boxes of supplies--and interest and knowledge of history, and the residence wasn't really accommodating for people with children. Jared would be required to spend every night in the house unless he arranged for a replacement, but the woman who cooked for the cafe was usually willing to housesit with some notice. The pay wasn't fantastic, but housing was included and he could eat the cafe leftovers if he didn't mind quiche and pastries.

At the end of the interview, Ms. Smith offered Jared the job, and he shook her hand and then hugged her until she laughed and told him he could call her Samantha. She handed him a thick spiral-bound book on the history of the house and the island and told him to study it; she needed him to start in two weeks. Jared stuffed the book down the front of his pants and rode back to the bed and breakfast feeling like he might die of happiness.

He could be independent again, he'd have a job that was actually better than any job he ever had before. He could meet a lot of new people all the time and go eat dinner with his parents. The house and cafe were closed Mondays and Tuesdays, and Jensen was only a short ferry ride away. Jared still wasn't completely at ease with the ferry, but he knew he could deal with it. The ferry was a lot bigger than the boat he'd nearly died in. Somebody was responsible for it, somebody who took the time to make sure the boat was safe. In his head, he finally believed that he could trust it. The rest of him would follow behind.

~~~

The next morning, Jared texted Jensen to let him know he was coming back on the noon ferry. He wasn't certain if Jensen would able to meet him, but he could always walk home from the dock if he needed to. He took just one pill and walked onto the boat with his father behind him. He was still scared, his hands shaking a little as they pulled away from the island, but that one pill was enough to keep the bird in its cage. As he sat there next to his dad, talking a little about their plans for the summer, he realized that he was really okay with taking one pill. It didn't mess him up, and even if he had to take one every time he got on the ferry for the rest of his life that wouldn't be a horrible thing. Other people took pills to get on planes or go to the dentist, and Jared guessed that it was really all the same.

When they got back to the mainland, Jared could see Jensen waiting for him at the end of the dock. He let his dad know that it was okay to stay on the ferry, promised to see him in two weeks, and walked down the dock into Jensen's arms.

"There are two things I need to tell you," Jared said as soon as they got inside Jensen's truck.

"Yeah?"

"One is that I got the job, and I start in two weeks."

"Wow, Jared, that's awesome." Jensen smiled, even though something other than the slanting afternoon sunlight shadowed his eyes.

"Yeah, it is. The second thing is that even though I'm moving to the island, even though there'll be water--fucking ocean water between us--I want to try to make this work. Because I love you."

Jensen bit his lip and then looked out of the window for a minute before looking back at Jared. Jared put a fist to his chest against the sharp ache there until Jensen finally spoke. "I love you too. And I guess that if anybody ought to have a boyfriend who lives on an island it's a guy who builds boats."

The ache in Jared's chest burst apart into nothing, and he grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. "Do you have to go back to work right now or can we maybe go back to my place and fuck?"

Jensen laughed and looked down, putting the truck in gear. "I guess I can take a long lunch."

Back at Sam's place, they hurried up the stairs. Jensen wasn't limping more than his usual hitch, so Jared figured he hadn't been abusing his leg the last couple days. Jared slapped the door shut, locked it and dropped his backpack on the floor. He pulled his shirt off as he turned around, and when he could see again Jensen was sitting on the side of the bed naked from the waist down and stripping off his shirt. Jared kicked off his flip-flops and unbuttoned his jeans, shoving jeans and boxers down as one, then he stepped out of the mess of his clothes and walked over to meet Jensen on the bed.

"Do you want, um?" Jared had never felt comfortable with bedroom negotiations, and right then with about three functioning brain cells it was almost impossible.

"Fuck me, yeah." Jensen pushed himself back into the middle of the bed, and Jared felt his head spin. He rummaged in the table for condoms and lube and then jumped onto the bed and lost himself in touching Jensen's body, opening Jensen up with his fingers until they were both hard and sweaty in the warm spring afternoon. He smoothed on the condom and fit himself between Jensen's thighs. Jensen had one hand wrapped around his own cock, his eyes on Jared, and he wrapped his legs around Jared's back as Jared moved closer.

It felt a little strange, the sharp bony poke of Jensen's heel close to Jared's ass and the blunt weight of his calf on the middle of Jared's back, but it didn't matter nearly as much as the look in Jensen's eyes, the way Jensen sighed and opened up as Jared pushed inside. Nothing, nothing mattered as much as being inside Jensen like this, or having Jensen inside him, and if Jared couldn't have this every day he settle for as often as the two of them could manage.

Jensen writhed beneath him, squeezed his hands tight on Jared's arms, and Jared stopped thinking about the future. He dropped his head to kiss Jensen, moving his hips in time with Jensen's, listening only to the sound of their breaths, the beat of their bodies moving together. They came almost at the same time, two waves falling and crumbling into one, and this was the only way that Jared ever, ever wanted to drown.

~~~

Two weeks until his new job started, and suddenly Jared had a lot of work to do. He was committed to helping Jensen with the boat. For one, he'd taken so much of Jensen's time and attention that surely Jensen would be done if not for him. Beyond that, Jared needed to see it complete, needed to see that bare skeleton from the winter head out to sea with her sails in the air. And he wanted to learn her name.

In the mornings before he headed over to Jensen's place, Jared pored over the Brownell House book Samantha had given him. He'd never paid a lot of attention to furniture and things like that, but he needed to be able to talk about the details of all of the Victorian and Edwardian pieces and their various provenance. The family history was more interesting, and Jared already knew a lot about island and local history from growing up in the area. He had a lot to learn, but he thought he was going to be really good at the job.

There were errands to run, too. People to talk to. He caught Sam one morning before she headed over to open up the bar and realized that even though he lived over her garage he'd really been avoiding her, worried that she was going to tell him he needed to leave, embarrassed that he had to keep taking advantage of her kindness. When he told her he'd found a new job and a new place to live, she smiled and laughed her familiar, husky laugh and genuinely seemed happier about Jared finding something good than about getting her rental place back.

He went to see Jeff; he was Jeff’s last appointment of the day. It was probably Jared’s last appointment as well, but Jeff reminded him that he could always come back, always call if he needed help, and Jared was more grateful than he could express for everything Jeff had done for him without seeming to do much of anything at all.

Jared put an ad up on the notice board at the most popular coffee shop in town and found somebody who'd buy his car the day before he moved to the island. The car wasn't anything special, and he wouldn't need one on the island, though he thought he might save up for a scooter. He took the deposit the girl gave him for the car, and drove out to the closest mall to buy a few more business casual pants to wear at work and some decent-looking comfortable shoes. Samantha was ordering him a set of special Brownell House embroidered polo shirts and that sounded mildly annoying but basically okay.

Working with Jensen was really good. The boat looked almost done to Jared--the inside was no longer hollow, and the mast and rigging for the sails was built if not connected to the boat. All that was left were the finishing touches, and Jensen was obsessively particular. He'd show Jared a rough area and set Jared to fixing it with sandpaper or a file. The upside to working simply the way Jensen did, with hand tools instead of power tools, was that it was quiet. With only the small noises of their work surrounding them, they could talk or just work together to the quiet sounds of the birds and cars driving by on the road.

Most evenings, Jensen followed Jared back to his apartment and they spent the night together, trying out all the different ways their bodies fit together. Jensen liked to get up insanely early, and most mornings Jared woke up to Jensen kissing him goodbye when the sun was just a mellow golden glimmer in the sky. Jared knew Jensen had other projects underway, other boats in various early stages of creation sitting in his garage, but as close as they were to having their boat done he was saving most of that work for when Jared could be there.

When Jensen was satisfied with the woodwork, they stained and varnished the interior, painted and sealed the hull. Bit by bit, the mass of wood turned into a real sailboat, and one day when Jared got out to Jensen's place Steve was there, too. Steve helped them get the boat on the trailer and then left, waving to them both as he drove off in his ancient VW.

"It's time for her go to the marina," Jensen said, and he sounded for all the world like a proud father sending his child off to school.

"Are you finally going to tell me her name?"

"I will." Jensen gave him a small, nervous smile. "But I--I want you to come out on her with me. We don't have to go far."

"Shit." Jared's immediate gut response is no, hell no. "This--this is not the ferry. This isn't a big boat. This--she's not any bigger than that boat."

"Hey," Jensen put his hand on Jared's arm. "I'm not going to push it, but just think about it. You know you can trust this boat. You saw her float, and we've done nothing except reinforce her structural integrity. This boat is made of good solid wood, and today is perfect. We have a light breeze, the water's calm. You don't have to work the sails, I can handle that."

It was true, he did trust the boat. His hands had been all over it, and Jensen with his sharp eye made sure everything was exactly right. If he missed going out on this boat before it was sold, he thought he'd always regret it, and he didn't want that kind of weight hanging on him. "Okay. I'm gonna reserve the right to wimp out at the last minute, but for now I'm saying okay."

Jensen squeezed Jared arm. "That works for me."

On the way to the marina, the boat trailing behind them and gleaming in the sun, Jared took one of his pills and tried to focus on the likelihood that everything was going to be okay. The drive was short, and in no time they were rolling the boat off of the trailer and into the water. She floated perfectly, the bright white and pale blue stripe of her hull contrasting against the dark water. They walked around to the dock and Jensen climbed on board, steadying himself with a hand on the mast. He stood firm and held out his other hand to Jared.

"You coming?"

Jared looked out at the glittering expanse of water. He looked down at the wooden slats of the dock beneath his feet, the water glimmering below. He looked back at the truck, at the sandy scrub and the road beyond. Finally, he looked up at Jensen in front of him. Jensen had on long shorts, and for the first time since they met he was allowing his leg, his prosthesis to be visible in public. Jared hadn't thought about it earlier, he'd gotten so used to seeing Jensen with and without the prosthesis when they were together. But here, people could see and maybe some people were noticing, but it was okay.

Jensen was okay. Every part of him was steady but especially his eyes as he looked at Jared and held out his hand, not demanding, just inviting. Jared reached out and took Jensen's hand. With his heart beating fast and heavy in his chest and his eyes locked on Jensen's, he took a deep breath and stepped across the gap between dock and boat, letting Jensen take him, letting the boat hold him.

"Okay, you're okay, sit down." Jensen helped him sit down on the wood that he'd helped to cut and smooth and seal.

Jared sat there for a minute with his eyes closed. "Are we okay? Is the boat--is it okay?"

"Well, we're still tied up to the dock." Jensen's voice was calm, with a slight, wry edge to it. "So yeah."

Jared opened his eyes to see the dock bobbing in front of them. "Oh, sorry."

"It's fine. You want to sit here for a while or head out?"

Jared turned around and looked at the ocean behind him. It really was beautiful, a perfect day with not a lot of other boats out yet. Jared put his hands flat on the deck and let himself believe that this boat wasn't going to sink. "Let's do it."

"Awesome." Jensen started the motor to get them out where the wind could catch the sails and threw the rope back onto the dock. Jared turned around so that he could see the water expanding around them rather than hanging onto the retreating view of the dock, and it was terrifying. He felt the fear clawing through him, from his stomach into his lungs, and he thought he was going to scream, thought he was going to beg Jensen to take them back in.

And then Jensen cut the motor off and worked around Jared to unfurl the sails. With the racket of the engine gone, Jared could hear the dull flap of the wind hitting the sails and the lap of the water at the hull. Seagulls were crying above, and then there was Jensen. Out here on the boat, he was somehow more graceful on his feet than he was on land. He pivoted from his good foot to his bad one and back again checking the riggings and then sat down next to Jared.

"You doing okay?"

"I--" Jared started to shake his head and then stopped. Nothing was clawing inside of him now. The fear was there, sitting silently in his stomach, but there was no terror. "Actually, I think I am."

"Good." Jensen smiled, and Jared had never seen his eyes so bright. "Do you still want to know her name?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Her name is Galatea." Jensen shrugged slightly, like it wasn't important, even though Jared knew it was. "She was the Greek goddess of calm seas."

"Calm seas? And maybe calm guys at sea?" Jared looked around them, and the ocean was calm, the waves barely noticeable now that they were far enough from shore.

"Maybe," Jensen said. "I hope so."

"It's beautiful. And perfect." Jared took a deep breath and sat up from his spot of safety then shifted over and spread his knees wide to straddle Jensen's lap. In the bright sunlight reflecting up from the water, Jared could see hundreds of freckles on Jensen's face and he raised a hand to trace a line from the ones sprinkles on his nose to the ones on the shell of his ear. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for anything," Jensen whispered.

"You helped me get back some of what was so important to me before and now I think we have something I never even knew I could find. 'Thank you' is not enough, but it's a start."

Jensen opened his mouth, looking like he was going to protest some more, but Jared kissed him instead, fitting their mouths together, their tongue sliding over and around each other. And it didn't matter that they didn't have a solid plan for the future, and it didn't matter that underneath them, the unthinkable expanse of the Atlantic Ocean spread out beyond all of the horizons. Jared was safe and he was happy and he was home.

~~~

The evening before he was set to leave for the island, Jared met up with the girl who was buying his car to finalize the deal, trade the car and the papers for the rest of the money. It wasn't a lot, but it would get him through to his first paycheck without depending on his parents any more than he already had, pay for taking Jensen out somewhere nice on his first day off. When he got back to his apartment, he found Jensen waiting outside.

"Hey," Jared called out. When he got close enough, he put both hands on Jensen's waist and pulled him in for a kiss. "Mmm, I didn't think you were going to be able to come over tonight."

"I'm here to kidnap you." Jensen smirked, not pulling away from Jared's grip.

"Oh yeah? Well, as long as it's you."

He followed Jensen to the truck, and Jensen drove straight for the beach then down to a parking lot where a few other cars were already parked. Somebody had lanterns set up on the sand, and Jared could hear music already through the open windows of the truck.

"What's going on?" Jared could feel himself smiling, even while he was nervous. He'd been living almost like a hermit for months, other than seeing Jeff and Jensen. All of his friends had been tied into things he couldn't or wouldn't do--working at the bar, going to clubs, playing out on the water--and he hadn't wanted to see them, didn't think they'd want to see him.

Jensen snagged his cane out from behind the driver's seat, just carrying it until they got to the loose sand of the beach. "It's not a going away party since you're not going far, so I guess it's good luck or congratulations or something. I don't know, people wanted a party."

"People?" But now they were on the sand, close enough that the shadowed silhouettes were resolving into real people. Sam was there along with Alona, Katie, AJ and Sterling from the bar. There were other familiar faces--regulars from the bar, boyfriends and girlfriends of the staff. Jared was in a whirl of hugging people and slapping back, but Jensen steered him over to the edge of the gathering where his friend Steve was standing with another long-haired guy who was a little bit shorter.

"Hey, man." Jensen leaned in and hugged both of them "Jared, this is my friend Chris. I've been wanting to introduce you, but nobody ever managed to be in the right place at the right time."

"This seems like the right time, I guess." Jared reached out and shook Chris's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Chris glared up at Jared and then relaxed, shaking Jared's hand. "So you’re the boy who got Jenny to quit smoking?"

"Um." Jared wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. "Jenny?"

"Shaddup," Jensen smacked Chris on the arm.

"Good job." Chris nodded.

Jared laughed and went to grab a soda out of the big cooler, grooving a little to the music. He looked around at the group and noticed that the only people smoking were way off down the sand. This had been put together for him even though he'd been avoiding people for months. He felt kind of like an asshole, but maybe a lucky asshole. An asshole with a new job and an awesome boyfriend.

The party got loud enough that a cop in a patrol car swung by and gave them a warning. He could have chased them off for being on public property after dark, but Sam had most of the cops in her pocket and they didn't usually bother too much with locals anyway. Hours later, with his clothes and somehow even his hair covered in sand, Jared let Jensen drive him back home.

Jensen left him to spend his last night in the apartment alone, but promised to be back the next morning to give him a ride to the ferry. Inside, the apartment shouldn't have felt empty--it came furnished and all of the kitchen things belonged to Sam--but Jared had shipped his few boxes of books and things off to the island earlier in the week, and most of his clothes were already packed up in a huge duffel bag, ready to go. He stripped off his sandy clothes and tied them up in a trash bag before putting them in his backpack then showered off the rest of the sand and went to bed. He knew that the next time he went to sleep he'd be on the island, on the third floor of a huge old house, but it didn't seem real.

He figured the nerves would keep him up all night, but then he closed his eyes and thought about Jensen, about being out on the water together on the Galatea. He thought about the goddess of calm seas holding them safe out there, and he fell asleep.

~~~

The move itself was anti-climactic. Jared knocked on Sam's door and left his key with her, thanking her again for her patience and general awesomeness and then heaved his big duffel and his regular backpack into the back of Jensen's pickup. He bought his ferry ticket, hugged Jensen goodbye at the dock, and walked onto the ferry by himself. The fear was there, but just a sparrow, tiny, pecking at his ribs. He watched Jensen and the mainland get smaller and then turned around to watch the island grow larger until he could see his dad waiting for him next to his car.

His father drove Jared and his bags down to the Brownell House, where the part-time maintenance guy met them to give Jared the keys to the buildings and tell him about a few issues he'd need to keep an eye out for. Up in his small suite, his boxes were waiting for him along with some more information from Ms. Smith. He needed to meet with the café staff and get up to speed with what needed to be done.

Things were quiet, but they wouldn’t be for much longer. They were just on the cusp of tourist season, and soon the island would be full of people. Jared thanked his dad, got his suite organized and then set about exploring the house on his own. In the master bedroom on the second floor, Jared checked out the ornate furniture and then tentatively pulled back the heavy embroidered draperies covering the windows. He knew it was important to keep the drapes closed, to keep sunlight from fading the fabrics and damaging the wood, but the sight was breathtaking.

He imagined living in this house a hundred years ago, getting up in the morning and pulling the curtains to reveal trees and a swath of beach leading out to the ocean. No land was in sight other than the edge of the island itself, and this house had stood against hurricanes and storms that nobody even remembered now. It was a good place, and Jared thought he could do good things with it. He had work to do, but he lingered for a moment, letting the draperies close around him as he stared out at the water and imagined the Galatea sailing out there on the calm seas.

~~~

A month later, Jared felt like he had a routine, even if it was a crazy one. He spent Wednesday through Sunday running back and forth between giving tours of the house and helping out when the server got overwhelmed in the cafe. He'd talked to the cook and gotten her to tweak the menu a little, getting as many of the ingredients as possible from the island and from nearby farmers and growers on the mainland. They were spending so much less on shipping that costs were the same, but they were getting better eggs, better produce. He got the board to put together a new ad promoting the locovore angle in a couple of magazines, and now some people were being drawn in by that instead of just stopping to eat lunch there because it was convenient.

He had plans for the history exhibits too. Most of them were the same old displays he remembered from visiting as a kid, and they were good but Jared was applying for a grant to make them better, fresher and with a broader perspective. It was boring, sometimes, on slow days when he just had a couple of ladies here and there who wanted to poke at the furniture and examine the knickknacks, but overall Jared really liked his job.

He worked things out for Monday and Tuesday, too. The girl working as a server in the cafe was taking a year off from college, living with her parents on the island, and he made a deal with her that she would housesit Monday nights. He paid her twenty bucks each time, and she just had to promise that she and her girlfriend would use the air mattress stowed under Jared's bed rather than Jared's actual bed and that they'd call Jared with any problems.

Monday mornings, he and Jensen had a standing date to meet at the dock, and every Tuesday evening Jared got back on the ferry wishing that the two halves of his life weren't separated by two miles of ocean. In between, he finally got to see the inside of Jensen's house. It wasn't smoky at all, and it was incredibly neat with new paint in most of the rooms and some new furniture that looked like Jensen and Chris had gone and robbed the Ikea in Charlotte.

One Sunday night in July, Jared was up in his suite when he heard the buzzer for the doorbell go off below. He sighed--there was a sign clearly stating the house hours, but people seemed to have a habit of not bothering to read it. He waited a minute, but the buzzer went off again, so he stepped into his flip-flops and walked back down the stairs trying to think of a polite and professional way to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

When he opened the door, Jensen was there leaning on his cane and surrounded by all the little bugs flying around in the glow of the porch light, looking windblown and tired and wonderful. "Oh my God, Jensen?"

"Hey." Jensen smiled. "Hope you don't mind me dropping in."

"Hell no, come on in before the house is full of mosquitoes." Jared pulled the door wider, and Jensen stepped inside then pulled a backpack off his shoulders and set it on the floor. "When did you get here? The last ferry was a few hours ago."

"Since when do I need a ferry? Actually, I'm delivering a boat tomorrow morning to a customer, a woman who lives on the island."

"Really? The Galatea?"

"Well, no." Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "It's the boat I started building in my garage when I realized I wasn't ever going to be able to sell the Galatea."

"You're keeping her? Oh man, that's amazing. So…" Jared looked down at Jensen's bag. "You're going to stay the night?"

"I was hoping to, yeah."

"Of course! Just, my suite's on the third floor and you know old places like this are totally not accessible. Are you okay with all those stairs?"

"I might demand a massage before bed, but yeah. Just point me in the right direction."

Jared grabbed Jensen's bag and led him up the stairs, giving a half-assed tour that he knew Jensen wasn't really paying attention to. In the bedroom, Jared pulled Jensen in for a kiss and then let him sit down on the bed to get situated. He looked out his window at the small rectangle of moonlit ocean and when he looked back Jensen was down to his t-shirt and boxers and looking far more comfortable.

"So, after you deliver the boat tomorrow do you want to just head back on the ferry together?"

"Well, I actually have another stop to make. A meeting."

"What kind of a meeting?" Jared couldn't think of much business that got done on the island. Other than real estate.

"I've been thinking, you know, that an island wouldn't be a completely illogical place for a guy to build boats. And I've already sold my house so it would probably be a good idea to find a new place before I end up living at the marina."

Jared stared at Jensen and then stumbled over to sit on the bed next to him. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious."

"But the island, everything's so expensive out here!"

A small smile twitched at the corner of Jensen's mouth. "Jared, my boats don't exactly sell cheap. I live like a redneck because I want to, but I have money in the bank. I can buy a small place out here, believe me. I just hope that you're okay with me following you here."

"Okay with it? Jensen!" Jared reached over and hugged Jensen and then toppled the both of them down to lie on the bed together. They wrestled for a minute, but then Jared remembered Jensen was tired and he let them lay still, both of them looking out the window. It was weird, thinking about how far the water extended. Out there over the water somewhere, it was already morning, the sun shining on the ripples and waves.

Jared liked knowing that when that light made its way to the island, Jensen would still be there.