I'm Perfectly Capable of Saving Myself
Fandom: RPF
Category/Rated: Slash, PG
Year/Length: 2010/3,160 words
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.
Summary: The young man on the beach, singing the blues, attracts Jared's attention, but by the time Jared can do something about it, he's gone...
Author's Notes: This is for nong_pradu; Sorry it's late, but I was sick. This is PG, and I may carry it on at some time in the future, because I could have gone on writing for many thousands more words. Thank you for the prompt. I hope you like it.
Beta: marys_scribbles
South Padre Island was just starting to jump. There had been an influx of students that week, out for the summer and eager to blow off steam as only students could. The beach had been invaded by squealing girls, flocking like brightly colored birds in a never ending kaleidoscope of groupings as they formed and reformed their little flocks. The boys were different. The boys stayed in their cliques, posing and cat-calling to each other as they ogled the girls.
As Jared came on duty, he gave a happy sigh. Lifeguard for the summer allowed him to be here, guilt free, while he decided what to do with himself now he'd finally graduated. On the one hand there was university, and a career as a vet, and on the other, Hollywood loomed, an uncharted territory that he needed to explore.
Sand, white as sugar, fine as dust, glittered under a sun that painted the world in warm, bright colors. Ocean waves, foam curling along their crests, rose to suck against the sand before crashing against it as though begging to be let in. The water then forlornly seeped up and along the beach to uncover the treasure of shells and polished stone that hid within, leaving a tracery like lace as it slunk back to the ocean to rise and break once more.
The man was sitting, cross legged, on the sand, and he had a guitar on his lap. He was playing, fingers tracing the frets with affection as he rode his own musical wave. His eyes were closed, and thick, long lashes caressed his cheeks, softening the impact of the high cheekbones and the mouth below that seemed made for sin.
Jared was a sensible guy, and he didn't usually let his mind wander from the task at hand. He was one of the most responsible of the lifeguards on the island, ordinarily immune to the enticements of the crowds of young women that flocked the beach looking for holiday romance. This time he couldn't resist. The vision in front of him pulled him closer, to where he could hear that there was a voice accompanying the guitar, and the song it was singing was plaintive, full of lost love and broken dreams.
The late afternoon sun poured down like butterscotch, toasting skin to caramel and drawing a shimmer from the hot sand. The vision before him sang on, lonely and gorgeous, dark hair streaked sun-blond, a dusting of freckles sprinkled on his pale skin. A single tear on the singer's cheek caught the light and gleamed like crystal as he rocked his head in time with the beat, and Jared wished he knew just what it was that had broken this man.
The sad musician launched into "Only the Lonely," and Jared wanted to sit and listen to him forever, maybe do more, maybe take the guitar from his hands and lay it aside before kissing him until his lips were numb, and the man was happy again.
Jared would have stayed all day, listening and watching, but, just at that moment, an altercation started further down the beach near the concession stand, and with a regretful sigh he took off to sort it out, sand flying up from his heels as he ran.
As usual, it was a girl at the center of the row, and two teens were engaged in throwing punches while she shrieked and wailed and created drama. Reaching in to grab each of the contesting youngsters by the hair, Jared hauled them apart and held them, still snapping and snarling at each other like a couple of angry dogs.
"What the fuck are you thinking?" Jared's voice cut through the hubbub of the fascinated audience, causing the derisive comments and the giggles to fall suddenly silent. "You know there's no fighting on the beach. Go on, go home."
The girl who had been playing the part of Helen of Troy grabbed Jared's elbow, pointing one red-lacquered nail at the taller of the two contestants. "He can't seem to realize that I'm not..."
Jared cut her short. "Look, I don't want to hear it. The rules are there to prevent accidents, and you three have broken them, so go on. Get lost. Get off the beach."
"You can't make us..." Helen's voice rose to a screech.
Jared unclipped his pager and thumbed it. "Maybe not, he said, a smile on his face that was more a simple gritting of teeth. "But the cops can, and they'll be here in about two minutes, so you'd better suck it up if you don't want to be packed off back to the mainland in a hurry."
The two youths had stood by, shuffling their feet, but now they turned to leave the beach, muttering their apologies. "You coming, Sharon?" called the darker haired one.
Helen of Troy , scowling mightily, stuck out her bottom lip and stomped off after them, and the crowd began to disperse.
Jared, who had summoned the police, had to remain in place to give his incident report, and so it was 20 minutes later that he was free to go back and see if he could find his sad, sad singer.
He'd been joined by his relief on the staff, a deceptively skinny young man named Riley, who not only swam like a fish but was also a black belt in several separate martial arts disciplines. Shorter than Jared by a good half a foot, Riley was still quite capable of maintaining order amongst the unruly throng of partying students.
"Hey, dude, I hear you busted up a fight." There was a glint of amusement in Riley's eyes as he fell in alongside Jared.
"No big deal. Just a couple of dumb punks fighting over a silly bitch who was manipulating them just because she could." Jared's teeth gleamed white in the lazy light, his dimples deep and flirtatious. "Called the cops, sent 'em packing, no real problem."
They'd been making their way down the beach to the quieter area away from the crowd near the DJ, back towards where the singer had been earlier. Jared couldn't see him, and at first thought that he had gone, but then he frowned and ran forward. Riley watched with a frown on his face, but after a few moments he followed, coming up to where Jared was standing, looking down at a pile of belongings spread haphazardly over the sand. The guitar the young man had been playing was lying beside a crumpled shirt and a pair of flip-flops, and of the musician himself there was no sign.
"Sonuvabitch!" Jared had assessed the situation with a single glance, and he turned to Riley. "There's a rip right here. The dumb fuck is trying to kill himself," he growled. "Call backup; I'm going after him." He tossed Riley the pager and kicked himself forward down towards the surf.
The waves were moderate - only three or four feet high, and the water was a cool, enticing lick against his feet as he plunged in and began to head out into the bay. In the far distance, he could see what might be the head of a swimmer, and he began to swim, arrowing through the water, strong arms pulling him forward through the surf as he shot into the rip current to chase it.
Jared could feel the rip sucking him forward, and he swam ever faster, arms churning through the waves as he raced to catch up with the man that had so captivated him earlier. They were perilously close to the Isla Blanca Park jetty, and Jared knew that if they made it out to the end the big waves there would likely wash them back onto the rocks.
A quick glance showed that the other swimmer was almost at the end of the jetty, but a spurt of effort brought him level with the other man. Closing the gap between them, Jared reached for the floundering swimmer. "Gonna kill yourself, dude?"
"That was the general idea." The words were gasped, and it was evident that the other was reaching the end of his strength.
"You wanna do that, do it on somebody else's watch. I've got a clean record, and I want to keep it that way." Jared's large hand tangled in the salt-caked hair and tugged as the other man flailed at him, swallowing water as a wave slapped his face. "Besides," murmured Jared, “I wanted to hear you play some more."
The would-be suicide kicked out, and although the water damped down his efforts, it was obvious that he was not going to go quietly. Jared muttered a curse under his breath and snaked his arm around the other's neck, tightening it into a choke hold just enough to quiet him down.
Adjusting his hold to tow the singer to safety, he turned out to the side, hoping to clear the rip current and ride the returning surf back to the shore, just as they cleared the end of the jetty and out to where the bigger waves roared ceaselessly down. Kicking away to where the circling current would assist them back towards the beach, Jared gritted his teeth and swam for both their lives.
It was touch and go. Twice an undertow smacked them down onto the razor sharp rocks, but Jared was not someone who would ever give up, and the memory of earlier that afternoon danced before him as he made his way to where Riley waited.
He was both battered and tired before they finally made it back to the shore. He'd been smacked into barnacle covered rocks, and was bleeding from the hundreds of scratches and grazes he'd received, but the man in his arms was still alive, and as Jared staggered up the sand with him, he began to come around.
He was not grateful.
The young man's face was contorted with fury, and he tried to jerk away from Jared as they stumbled up the beach towards where he'd left Riley. Jared's shins were red with blood, and his companion's thigh had pretty much been flayed from the contact with the rocks.
The paramedics were there, waiting, and as his newly rescued charge cursed at him, too exhausted to do anything more. The medics led them both to where the ambulance awaited them, and set to, applying dressings and patching them up.
Eying up the pale face of the young man he'd brought back from the waves, Jared could see that he was close to the end of his resources. He was cursing steadily in the soft, deep voice that had so enticed him earlier, and his forehead was beaded with sweat, the fine brow creased in a frown. He wanted to reach out and pull the man to him and ask him why he was determined to put a period to his life, but the paramedic was talking, lecturing them both on care of their wounds.
Riley came over at that point, bringing the guitar and the other belongings the young man had left behind. He handed Jared his pager and took his leave to head over to where he was due on duty. As Jared took it, Riley smirked back at him. "Looking for a day off, were we?" he grinned, and the single finger salute that followed him only provoked a cackle of laughter as he sauntered away.
Stiff and sore, Jared was in no mood to take any further abuse from anyone, let alone the man that he'd rescued. This had not apparently been brought home as yet to that gentleman. As the paramedics packed up to leave, he turned to Jared and shoved him.
"Why did you have to go and interfere, you fucking bastard?" He'd raised his hand to strike Jared, and Jared had finally had enough.
"Listen, fuckwit! I heard you playing, and I wanted more. I wanted to listen to you for the rest of my life." He stopped suddenly, preternaturally aware of what he'd just blurted out. "I mean..."
There was a strange play of emotion on the face of the other man. He seemed to be bemused, and he stared at Jared, wide green eyes dilated so far that their pupils seemed like black holes into which Jared could fall endlessly.
"I'm glad you seem to think that's a good reason for messing with my life," he snorted. "It took me days to decide to do it, and I'm just ready and made my peace with God, when you come barreling in like some big damned hero and fuck everything up." The man was shaking with emotion, face pale with it, and Jared reached to cup his cheek and hold it. The skin of his cheek above the line of his beard was soft and damp, the salt crusted along the bristles of his chin
"Listen, I don't know the reason for your despair, but surely nothing's bad enough that you would kill yourself. What's hurt you so badly that you'd want to put an end to your existence?" The man hadn't moved, and Jared took a chance and slid his arm around the other's neck, pulling him close so he could pet him, thinking that either he could offer comfort, or the guy would punch out his lights. For a moment, the man froze, but then he seemed to break, and slumped against Jared, his shoulders shaking as he cried quietly.
"My... parents told me to go," he said, when he could speak at last. "They threw me out; told me I'm not their son any more, because... because..." He hiccupped to a stop, and Jared patted his shoulder.
"You're gay?" There was a sniffle and a nod, and Jared gave him a fully dimpled grin. "Oh, thank you, lord!" he crowed. "I was terrified that you were straight and might punch me out."
"Are you insane?" The other man's face suffused with blood as he clenched his fists until the knuckles gleamed white. "I... I'm spilling my guts here, and all you can say is ‘thank you, lord’? That's harsh."
"No, no, no, you don't understand." Jared's hands were up in a placatory gesture, although his dimples betrayed his happiness. "Listen, dude, what's your name?"
"Jensen." The man was still holding himself stiffly, although his fists were no longer so tightly curled. "And you're right; I don't understand."
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Jared's eyes launched their own appeal, eyes pleading, and the young man – Jensen – frowned.
"Never thought about it," he admitted. "Why?"
Leaning in, a press of Jared's mouth told him Jared's thoughts on the matter. Jared could feel him trembling again, but his lips were soft, so soft, and he could feel Jensen gasp as he kissed him. "Because I think I've been smitten," he whispered without moving back, each syllable tracing its own gentle message against soft skin.
"You telling me you think you're in love with me?" There was a certain wonder in Jensen's voice, and Jared's dimples flashed again.
"Oh, I don't just think it." He sobered a little and slid his arm around Jensen's shoulders. "Listen, I know you're not in a good place right now, but I want to make things better for you. You gonna let me try?"
"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard." Jensen's mouth quirked unwillingly upwards.
"Yeah, well, it has been said..." Jared was slowly leading Jensen off the beach and over to where he'd parked his car. "So you wanna come with me, so I can impress you with my enormous muscles and ability to unscrew the lids of jars?"
Shaking his head, Jensen stopped walking and pulled Jared round. "Not promising anything, but I don't have anywhere to stay tonight either. Didn't think I was going to need it."
"Where's your stuff, Jensen? Do you have any?"
Jensen shook his head. "Dunno. Depends if Steve's tossed it or not. I left it all with him this morning. He was going to take it back to Dallas and dump it on mom's doorstep, tell her what I did."
"Jesus!" They reached Jared's jeep and he unlocked the door, fumbled inside for his phone and handed it to Jensen. "Call him and tell him to bring it back. You're already getting a sunburn, and you've taken the skin off your leg. Don't want to add insult to injury."
Nodding, Jensen dialed his friend, who, it turned out, had not yet left, hoping against hope that Jensen would return later, having decided to live. Jared quickly gave his address, and the friend, Steve, arranged to bring Jensen's gear around to him. Jared tapped his foot, wondering why the hell the friend hadn't alerted the police, or the beach patrol, or, damn it, sent up smoke signals, if he knew what Jensen intended. He resolved to speak very frankly to this friend of Jensen's, possibly with his fists.
Sagging back against the jeep, Jensen held out the phone, and Jared, who could see that he was exhausted, urged him inside. The ride back to the place where Jared was staying was accomplished in short order, and Jared helped Jensen out and up the stairs and into the shower. Once Jensen had shed the still wet board shorts he'd been wearing, he had nothing. Jared smiled again as he fished out a pair of boxer briefs for him to put on. Jensen, who'd gone through the motions of getting himself clean and dry without really paying much attention to what he was doing, smiled a thank you to him that made Jared's heart beat a little paradiddle in double time.
Steve came and went, and left a hold-all and a suitcase before turning tail and fleeing as he took in Jared's flashing eyes and set jaw. Jensen, who'd appeared lively until his friend left, now seemed to slump.
"Come on, Jen." Jared stooped and gathered the young singer up in his arms, despite the squawk of alarm Jensen gave. "You're done in. You need sleep." Carrying him through to his bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled him close. "Tonight we're gonna get as much sleep as we can; tomorrow I'm gonna get started on making you fall in love with me, okay?"
"Okay," murmured Jensen, drowsily peering up at him. "Stockholm Syndrome, right? I read about that."
"You got it," grinned Jared, unrepentant. He helped Jensen settle and then climbed in behind him, snuggling up and pulling Jensen against him. "I'm not proud; Stockholm Syndrome it is."
There was a pause, and Jared was on the brink of sleep himself when he heard Jensen whisper, "Thank you."
"No problem," he husked against the back of Jensen's neck, and felt Jensen's hand come up to rest over his. It was a start, and he fell asleep knowing that he'd found the love of his life.
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