Fic: A thousand dollars for a kiss: Chapter Two

[zara_zee]

Jared hadn’t meant to stay for a week. He hadn’t even brought any clothes. Not that it really mattered, because his old room was full of his old clothes. Most of the pants were a bit too short now, but he didn’t care; it wasn’t like he was going to go out in public in them.

Being back in his old bedroom was strange. It had been his home; his sanctuary for a long time, but as he looked around now, Jared could find no trace of himself in the room. Except maybe in the few well-thumbed books that had somehow managed to be enjoyable, while at the same time surviving Nanny’s scrutiny. Huckleberry Finn had been a particular favorite and Jared picked it up now and settled himself on his bed, pillows propped up behind him.

Jared had stayed a week because his family had needed him. His mom had fired the nanny and had then asked Jared to help her talk to his siblings. And what a fun conversation that had been.  Mom had explained about the whole fame thing first and Jared had been surprised by how angry his siblings were at him. Because he’d found out first and hadn’t told them.

“Mom and Dad asked me not to say anything!” Jared protested.

But that was only part of the truth. He’d been out. And he hadn’t wanted to come back. He’d let his siblings down and only time would tell how badly.

After Mom had haltingly and tearfully explained what Dad was accused of doing and told them that he wouldn’t be living with them anymore she’d let the kids ask questions: Who would get the house? Could they move to a new house? Could they go to school? Could they watch some of her movies? Would they have to see Dad again?

This last question from Raisa, Jared found troubling.

Later, when they all went their separate ways he followed her to her room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,”

Jared pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. Raisa’s room wasn’t all that different from his own. They’d never been allowed to personalize their rooms; no art or posters on the walls, nothing ornamental or ostentatious. No brightly colored quilts or pillows. Jared frowned as he looked around. That was going to change. No kid should have to live in a room this dull.

“What’s up, Jare?” Raisa said. She was sitting on her bed reading; like him she was an avid reader, devouring both fiction and non-fiction eagerly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For abandoning you guys.”

Raisa sniffed. “Yeah, well. I get it. You got out,” she shrugged. “Not sure I’d have wanted to come back either. You think Mom will let us out now?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. I think she’s gonna make some big changes.”

Raisa put her open book down, spine up. “You think she’d let me do ballet? You don’t think I’m too old do you?”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “You’re twelve.”

“Yeah. I should’ve stared at eight.”

Jared went and sat down next to his sister on the bed. “Raisa, I need to ask you a question. You know how you asked Mom if we’d have to see Dad again? Well, I was wondering why you put it like that. Do you a special reason why you don’t want to see him again?”

Raisa shook her head and then shrugged. “He makes Mom unhappy. She’s more fun when he’s not around.”

“So he’s never…been inappropriate?”

Raisa stared at him.

“You know, he’s never…touched you?”

“Of course he has. He’s my Dad!”

Jared ran a hand over his face, thoroughly embarrassed.

“No, I mean…he’s never…tried to have sex with you, right?”

“Eww!” Raisa scrunched up her face. “That’s gross!” She reached across and punched Jared’s arm. “Of course he hasn’t! He’s my Dad!”

Jared had an even more excruciating conversation with the twins, Ilona and Elena; they were sixteen and understood pretty quickly what he was getting at, but played dumb just to watch him blush and squirm.

Elena finally took pity on him.

“Relax, Jare, he’s never done anything like that with us,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “So, now that you’re not gonna be a priest…have you kissed any pretty girls?”

Jared shook his head.

“Why not?” Ilona demanded. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna kiss every hot boy I can get my hands on!”

Jared rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Uh yeah,” he said. “Me too. Or one anyway.”

The twins stared at him.

“You want to…kiss…a…boy?” Elena said uncertainly.

Jared nodded.

“Why?”

Jared shrugged. “I’m not attracted to girls. I’m attracted to other guys.”

Elena’s mouth pursed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be,” she said. “I’m sure there’s something in Leviticus about lying with a man as you would a woman being an abomination.”

“Sixty-seven things are an abomination according to the Bible,” Jared said, “including eating shellfish, the love of money and women wearing trousers. If we’re going to take the Bible literally, we’ll have to start executing every materialistic girl who goes to a clambake wearing jeans.”

Elena frowned. “What does the Pope say?”

“Do you think God makes mistakes?” Jared asked.

Elena shook her head.

“Then what does it matter what the Pope says? I’m the way God made me; and that includes my attraction to guys.”

“Well I don’t care,” Ilona flicked her hair. “I think it’s hot,” she giggled. “Have you got a boyfriend, Jared?”

“Maybe?”

“Does Mom know?” Elena interjected.

“Yep. And she’s happy for me.”

Elena harrumphed.

Ilona dug her fingers into Jared’s ribs. “What d’you mean ‘maybe’?”

Jared glanced at Elena, who frowned at him. “I don’t think we’re official yet,” he turned back to Ilona, “but we’ve been on a date. And we’ve kissed. A few times.”

Ilona squealed and Elena glared and left the room. Ilona poked her tongue out at her twin. “She’s such a prude! Tell me everything!”  

Ilona’s acceptance of him was a blessing. And Elena? Jared understood where she was coming from; she was worried about his soul. Jared hoped she’d come around, but either way, he knew she loved him.

Jared shifted on his bed. Not for the first time, he wondered how Jensen was doing. The night they’d spent together had played a starring role in all his fantasies since and on the third night back home he’d even managed to relax enough to jerk off in the shower, the picture of Jensen’s expressive green eyes, pupils dilated, clear in his mind.

Jared wished he could call him up, just to listen to his deep melodic voice, but he didn’t have his own cell phone and his mom had already mentioned her fear that his father’s lawyers might pull her phone records to try to find something they could use to smear her—he couldn’t risk a call to a male hooker showing up in them.

A knock on Jared’s door drew him out of his book. He called out for his visitor to come in and was surprised when it was Dosu. His fourteen-year-old brother had taken his disappearance from the family harder than anyone; not surprising, perhaps; they’d been close.

“Elena and Ilona are fighting about you,” his brother said, sauntering over to the white wicker chair in the corner and throwing himself onto it in a sprawl. “Elena says you’re going to Hell. And Ilona says she’s a stupid brainwashed prude who should try reading some of the stuff you showed her on the internet.”

Crap. Jared sat up straighter and put his book down. He chewed on his thumbnail, his brow furrowed. “Do you think I should go and, you know, referee?”

Dosu shrugged. “Everything’s been really weird since you came back,” he said, and there was definitely accusation in his tone.

“I guess there have been a lot of changes. The thing with Dad. Mom firing Nanny.”

“And you,” Dosu said. “You were gone and Mom and Dad were so proud because you were gonna be a priest. And now you’re back and you’re not gonna be a priest and the twins are arguing over whether you’re going to Hell or not and Elena says Dad’s definitely going to Hell and…and…Ilona showed me some stuff on the internet that you showed her and…nothing is what I thought it was! And you already knew that and you didn’t tell me!” the pitch of his little brother’s voice got higher and higher as he spoke, breaking at the end of his rant in that annoying way that Jared remembered from his own puberty.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said, “I was a dick.”

Dosu gaped at him and then sniggered. “You’ve changed a lot. You seem happier. More relaxed,” he tilted his head to one side and regarded Jared solemnly. “So,” he said, “I hear you like kissing boys.”

“Does that bother you?”

Dosu shrugged. “It’s kind of weird. You can’t marry another boy. And they don’t have boobs.”

“I don’t really like boobs.”

Dosu gaped at him. “See, I don’t get that. Boobs are…” he made a squishing gesture with his hands. “Boobs are nice. Especially big ones.”

Jared raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Dosu said defensively. “I saw a few commercials for Baywatch before Nanny switched stations.”

Jared grinned at him. “Liking boobs is perfectly normal,” he said. “Most people are straight,” when Dosu looked puzzled he elaborated, but tried to keep it simple. “Straight is when guys like girls and girls like guys. Gay is when people like people who are the same sex as them. And Bi-sexual is when people like either sex.”

Dosu pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So you’re gay?”

Jared nodded.

“And Elena thinks you’re going to Hell because you like other guys?”

“Um,” Jared ran a hand through his hair. “There are parts of the Bible that have been traditionally interpreted as supporting that view. But I don’t think they’re right. I don’t really want to get into a full-on theological debate right now, but essentially, I just don’t believe that God makes mistakes. I gave Ilona some websites to look at. I can show them to you too if you’re interested.”

Dosu screwed up his nose. “Are those the websites she was talking about with the guys kissing and stuff? Because she might think it’s hot, but I don’t wanna see that.”

“What?  Guys kissing? She’s looking at… I didn’t...” Jared scrambled to his feet and took off. “Ilona! What have you been looking at on the internet?”

--

Jensen showered and re-dressed quickly and efficiently.

His appointments with Dan always left him feeling well-used and slightly drunk and he preferred to go straight home afterwards, if possible. Tonight he could, because Chris had managed to land himself an overnighter.

Pasting on his sultry professional smile, Jensen sauntered out into the bedroom where Dan was sitting propped up, bare-chested, in bed, his black silk sheets twisted around his waist.

Dan grinned at him. “Freshly-fucked is a good look on you, Jenny.”

Jensen kept the professional smile fixed on his face and didn’t roll his eyes. He leaned in for the obligatory goodbye kiss and skillfully palmed the cash that Dan had left for him on the bedside table. Dan didn’t like to see the transaction part of the evening so they’d perfected this routine over the years.

“Same time next week?” Jensen murmured, looking up demurely from beneath his eyelashes.

“You betcha.”

As Jensen began to pull away, Dan grabbed his wrist. “Sit for a moment, sweetheart” he said.

Jensen clamped down on the momentary panic that being grabbed had caused (Dan was safe; Dan wouldn’t hurt him) and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, giving Dan what he hoped was an interested, not a ‘what the fuck’, smile.

“Your name came up in court today,” the ADA said.

Jensen licked his lips. “The Pellegrino thing.”

Dan reached forward and gently cupped Jensen’s face and Jensen very nearly flinched away from him. The job was done; he’d had his shower; he’d done the kiss-him- get-the-money thing and now he was supposed to be getting out of here; the client was not supposed to be touching him any more.

“You need to be careful,” Dan said.

“I know.”

Dan sighed. “You’re a bright, attractive kid, Jen. You could be so much more than this. Why are you still doing it?”

Jensen stood up and gave Dan his best shit-eating grin. “The pay’s good and the benefits package is awesome. We even get Dental, you know.”

Dan’s lips thinned. “Let’s hope you don’t need it,” he said. He held Jensen’s gaze for a moment and then sighed again. “I’ll see you in a week, sweetheart. You stay safe.”

Outside on the sidewalk, Jensen lit a cigarette and called a cab. He’d just been well-paid for great sex. Fuck Dan for getting all ‘concerned citizen’ on his ass. He hated when clients did that. Jensen drew back on his cigarette. It wasn’t like he did much street work anymore; it was almost all booked appointments nowadays. He got to pick and choose who he fucked and he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. Mostly. Okay, sometimes he did stuff he didn’t really like, but only because the client paid him a hell of a lot of money. For the most part, he was being paid awesome money to have a lot of sex.  So what was the big deal? What was it that clients like Dan—and Sebastian—thought they were going to save him from? Jensen wasn’t a victim. He was treated well by his clients. He enjoyed his work. Mostly. And he was a guy with a plan. He would quit hooking when he was ready to quit hooking.

Jensen was too irritated to go straight home now, so he told the cab driver to head out to the warehouse squat on West Sunset; now seemed as good a time as any to pass on Kurt’s info about the sweep to Gino.

Gino, the guy who ran the squat, was a part Italian, part African American Gulf War veteran in his late forties. These days he called himself an entrepreneur and spent his days selling designer label knocks-offs to tourists on Hollywood Boulevard.

“Dean, my man!” Gino got up from the grubby, torn mattress where he’d been sitting smoking a very large spliff and loped toward Jensen.  They did the handshake, back slap thing and then Gino handed Jensen the spliff.

“How you been, kid?”

Jensen drew deeply on the spliff and then handed it back.

“Can’t complain. Everything okay here?”

Gino put an arm around Jensen and guided him over to the mattress.

“Come into my office.”

Jensen sat down, avoiding stains and springs as much as possible, and leaned back against the wall.  As they passed the spliff between them, Gino gave Jensen a run down on life in the squat and they talked about people they both knew, updating each other on who’d died, who was in prison, who’d got clean, who’d relapsed, who’d gone home, who’d gone up in the world and who’d gone down.

“So, not that it ain’t great to see you, but is there anything you wanted in particular?” Gino finally asked.

Jensen shifted, stretching his legs out in front of himself and tugging up the collar of his leather jacket. “Just wanted to let you know that there’s gonna be another sweep, day after tomorrow. Something to do with some big trade fair. You might wanna warn everyone, keep ‘em off the streets as much as possible.”

Gino snorted. “Douchebags want the ‘roaches swept under the rug, huh?”

Jensen shrugged. He got his smokes out and lit up, offering the pack to Gino.

“By the way,” said Gino as he lit his own cigarette, “Your girl’s not doin’ so good.”

Jensen frowned. “Girl? What girl?”

“Red hair? Calls herself Charlie?”

“Charlie? I don’t know a Charlie.”

“Well she turned up a week ago. Asked for me by name and told me that Dean sent her.”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “Oh. Flick. The crack addict.”

Gino nodded. “She’s tryin’ a get clean.”

“Good for her.”

“Yeah. Only she ain’t earnin’ no money right now.”

Jensen stilled and then gave Gino a hard look.

“You’re not gonna kick her out,” he said.

Gino shrugged. “She ain’t contributing. You know the rules. Gonna live here, you gotta contribute somehow. All she’s doin’ is lyin’ on one of my mattresses, shiverin’ and shakin’ and barfin’.”

“Fuck,” Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“She got her white knight standin’ over her,” Gino said, ‘so ain’t nobody takin’ advantage, but still. She gotta contribute.”

“White Knight?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.

“Kid called Kevin. And when I say kid…he can’t be more’n twelve.”

Twelve? Jensen swallowed thickly. Oh, somebody was getting punched.

Gino held his hands up, palms out. “Whoa, cool it, man. You know I ain’t a pimp and you know I ain’t into little kids. He ain’t hookin’ anyway. He’s a street performer. Does fire eatin’ and sword swallowin’ and all this acrobatic shit for the tourists. Brings in okay money. Not enough to cover for Charlie, but enough that he don’t have to bend over for no-one.”

Jensen nodded. “Where are they?”

“Your old mattress.”

Jensen headed to the back corner of the candle-lit warehouse, past decades old graffiti, mattresses and sofas, and curtained-off areas. He got a couple of half-hearted business propositions; a girl offered to suck his dick for twenty bucks and a stoned fat guy grabbed at his own crotch and crowed ‘I’ve got something good for you to suck, Pretty Boy.’ Jensen ignored them both, not even slowing down until he got to a section of wall which had a large drawing of a penis on it, along with the words:  ‘Will suck dick 4 Speed’ and an arrow pointing down at the mattress.

He saw the kid first and Jesus Christ, Gino hadn’t been kidding. He was a scrawny little scrap of a thing, Asian with long, floppy black hair and reflexes like a cat. Which Jensen knew because said kid was suddenly right in his face and he hadn’t even seen him move.

“What do you want?” the kid demanded.

“Checkin’ on Flick. I met her down at Per vias rectas a couple weeks back, suggested she come here,” he held out a hand. “The name’s Dean.”

“Kevin,” said the kid as he shook Jensen’s hand.

“Really?”

The kid shrugged. “No, not really. But it’s what you can call me.”

“Right,” Jensen said. “But Kevin? Seriously?”

The kid stared at him. “Yeah,” he said. “Kevin. I was inspired by that movie, Home Alone. It fits right? Cuz that’s me. Only without the home.”

“Fuck,” Jensen got his smokes out and flicked one up into his mouth before offering the pack to Kevin.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Dude,” he said reproachfully, “you did not just offer a cigarette to a fourteen year old.”

Jensen snatched the pack back and put it away. “No. I didn’t. I was…uh…just…stretching my arm. So. Fourteen, huh?”

“Yeah. And if this is the ‘you should go back home, it can’t have been so bad that this is better’ part of the conversation, then screw you. You don’t know shit.”

Jensen shrugged. “I used to be you,” he said. “So yeah, I do know shit.”

Flick chose that moment to groan and Kevin was by her side in a flash. “You okay? You need some water?”

“Hurts,” Flick said. “Can’t do it.”

Jensen knelt down by her side. “Yes you can,” he said.

Flick cracked open an eye. She looked from him to Kevin and back again. “Pretty Boy?” she said. “Is he really here, Kevin?”

Kevin snorted. “If you mean, Dean, then, yeah, he’s really here.”

“I’m tryin’ a do what you said,” Flick slurred, her eyes falling shut again. “But it’s too hard.” She was racked by a sudden fit of coughing and then she began to shiver violently, despite the sweat that was soaking her body.

“Bucket,” said Jensen and Kevin passed him a cracked plastic salad bowl that was already a quarter full of vomit.

“Gross,” he held his breath and then helped Flick lean over the bowl, holding her greasy, stringy hair out of the way while she heaved up a surprising amount of watery bile; surprising, because she felt so skeletal in his arms.

She fell back against him once she was done throwing up and started to cry.

“S’too hard,” she said between sobs, “too hard.”

Jensen rubbed her back. “You’re doing great,” he said. “And I promise you it’s worth it.”

He looked up to find Kevin staring at him and noticed the dark circles under the kid’s eyes.

“How many days?” he asked, nodding at Flick.

“Five.”

Jensen nodded. So she should be detoxed in another couple days. Kevin, though, looked like he’d been awake for most of that time and…fuck…Jensen sighed. He was going to regret this, he knew he was.

“Alright, kid,” he handed Kevin the bucket of vomit. “Go get rid of that and then do whatever you gotta do before bed.”

Kevin just kept staring.

“Go on,” Jensen said. “Scoot. It’s way past your bedtime.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed and then he looked down at Flick and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Okay.”

The really good thing about this spot was that it was at the intersection of two walls and there was a metal support pillar right at the end of the mattress. When Chris and Jensen had been sleeping here, they’d fixed ropes between the walls and the support pillar and hung quilts across the ropes to give themselves the illusion of privacy. The quilts had long since gone, but the ropes were still there.  As soon as Kevin left, Jensen unzipped Flick’s sleeping bag and hung it across one of the ropes to dry out. He found a bottle of water and helped her to drink some, before pouring some out onto a ragged bit of towel and wiping her face. “You got something clean and dry to change into?” he asked and Flick’s eyes darted to his, frightened.

“You want me to take my clothes off?”

Jensen sighed. “Even if you weren’t a disgusting mess of sweat and vomit, I still wouldn’t be interested. I’m one hundred percent gay, I promise. So better me than Kevin, right? Cuz he’s probably straight. And he’s a kid.”

Flick nodded tentatively and between them, they got her sponged down and changed into something that wasn’t soaked in sweat and vomit.

Kevin returned to find Jensen unzipping his sleeping bag.

“Hey! That’s mine.”

“It’s dry,” Jensen said. “And it’s big enough for both of you to fit under when it’s fully unzipped. The body heat from each other will keep you warm too. Here,” he reached out an arm for the now emptied bowl, “give me that. You get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on Fl…Charlie.”

Kevin eyed him warily. “Why are you doing this?”

It was a fair question and Jensen considered it carefully. “Honestly? Partly because I sent Charlie here, so I kinda feel like she’s my responsibility. But also because I kinda wish there’d been somebody prepared to give me no-strings-attached help when I was your age.”

Kevin nodded; his eyes wide and his lips stretched thin. “It’s the no-strings-attached part that I’m having trouble believing.”

And Jensen got that. In Kevin’s place, he wouldn’t believe him either. In the end he just shrugged. “Can you at least believe that you’ve got nothing I want? Just…go to sleep, kid.”

Kevin looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end his own weariness defeated him and he got under the sleeping bag with a sigh and curled himself up next to Charlie.

Jensen settled himself on Charlie’s other side and leaned back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, one hand holding the bowl, the other gently stroking Charlie’s forehead. It didn’t escape his attention that he was sitting directly underneath a piece of graffiti that read: ‘Will suck dick 4 speed,’ nor that the arrow was pointing right at his head. He wished he didn’t remember when Chris wrote those words. He wished even more that they hadn’t been true.

--

Jared had said good bye to his mom and his siblings out on the back verandah, before being escorted back over the monastery wall by the Kevlar-clad security staff.  From there he made his way into Father Michael’s office to wait for Jeff.

Father Michael had the paperwork ready for him to withdraw from the Bachelor of Theology course and as Jared signed off on it, he was a little taken aback by the feeling of sorrow that settled itself deep in his gut. Becoming a priest had been his life plan for so long; what was he going to do now? He wasn’t surprised when Father Michael put voice to the question.

“I think I want to work for Jeff,” Jared answered. “Or someone else who does that kind of work. I guess I need social work for that?”

Father Michael nodded thoughtfully.  “You could certainly transfer to a Bachelor of Social Work. You have the grades. And the volunteer work will help too. Where are you planning to live while you do all this? Jeff was putting you up as a favor to the Church. There’s no guarantee he’ll be willing to continue that now.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Jared that he might not be welcome to stay with Jeff now that he was no longer with the Church. He swallowed and gave Father Michael a tenuous smile. “I guess I’ll have to sort that out.”

Jeff, when he arrived, was in a hurry and Jared felt bad for putting him out. He should’ve just caught the bus.

When Jared said as much, Jeff just grinned. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Besides, I figure we probably need to talk, so the drive gives us time.”

“Right,” Jared rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, a habit he’d picked up from Jensen. “So, uh. The room I’m staying in? Can I rent it from you? I’ve got money. Mom and Dad set up an account for me when I joined the Church and Mom just put a whole heap of money into it for me, so I can pay, I promise. Father Michael says you’re only letting me stay as a favor to the Church and it’s okay if you don’t want to rent it to me, I’m sure I can figure something else out if I—”    

“Whoa!” Jeff held a hand out. “Breathe, Jared. Yes, you can rent the room. You’re a good kid, we’ve enjoyed having you.  You’re welcome to keep volunteering too, but we can’t pay you; we just don’t have the budget.”

“Thank you,” Jared beamed. “Thank you so much, Jeff! I really appreciate this.”

Jeff grinned. “I know you do, kid. So tell me, how did everything go with your family?”

Jared drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Well. Elena thinks I’m going to Hell. But everyone else seems…cautiously happy for me,” he ran a hand across his mouth. “Dosu asked me a whole bunch of questions about sex—regular sex, with girls—because he’s fourteen and he’s never had any sex ed. It was so embarrassing. I tried to be all matter-of-fact like you are, but he was looking at me like I was some kind of expert, and I really don’t know anything. And then he asked me how gay guys do it,” Jared covered his face with his hands.

“Did you tell him?”

Jared nodded. “And he said it sounded gross. Jeff,” Jared peaked out from between his fingers. “I’m not even sure if I want to do that. You know, go all the way with another guy. It sounds awkward. And messy.”

“It’s not compulsory. You can stick to other forms of sexual gratification if you prefer. As I understand it, not all gay couples have anal sex.”

Jared dropped his hands from his face, but kept his head down, his bangs hiding his face almost as effectively. “It’s just…Jensen likes sex. He told me he does. And…even though he says it’s not that important...maybe he’s just being nice?”

“Or maybe it’s not that important to him. Communication is important in relationships,” Jeff said. “You need to talk to Jensen about this stuff and you need to be honest about how you feel.” Jeff cleared his throat. “So your mom was okay? When you told her that you’re gay?”

“Yeah,” Jared nodded. “She was supportive, which is good.” Jared paused. “Jeff, the others were all pretty angry with me because I knew the truth about Mom and Dad and I didn’t tell them,” he frowned. “I didn’t tell you either. Did you know? You know, before all the drama?”

Jeff hadn’t known, not until Father Michael had called him in the middle of the night to warn him about Jared’s father’s arrest. The priest had been surprised that Jared hadn’t told Jeff himself, and he told Jared as much now. Jared pulled a face.

“It feels awkward. ‘Hi, I’m Jared. My parents are famous movie stars. Nice to meet you.’ I didn’t even know myself for most of my life.” He drummed nervously on his thigh again. “Do you think I should tell Jensen?”

Jeff pursed his lips. “Yeah. Probably.”

Jared sighed and leaned back against the head rest. “I don’t want to,” he said plaintively. “He’s sketchy enough about dating me as it is. If I tell him who my parents are, he’s gonna run a hundred miles in the other direction, I know he is.”

“It’s up to you, of course,” Jeff said, “but if you want a relationship to work, it’s usually a good idea to be honest about everything right from the start.”

Jared knew that Jeff was right, he did. He also knew that if Jensen found out that Jared had famous parents he would decide he was more trouble than Jared needed and their fledgling relationship would be history. And Jared just couldn’t take that risk.

“He’s been worried about you, you know,” Jeff said. “And a little upset that you haven’t been in touch.”

“I couldn’t,” Jared said. “I couldn’t risk a call to a hooker showing up in Mom’s phone records. But I’ll call him as soon as we get back to your place.”

--

There was a crick in Jensen’s neck, and hair in his mouth and over his face, and where the Hell was he lying, because the mattress was lumpy as fuck. Jensen clawed the long hair out of his mouth and groaned at Chris to move his drunk ass.

“Who’s Chris?” mumbled a decidedly female voice and Jensen hauled himself upright and looked straight into the very amused eyes of an Asian kid who was standing on the other side of the mattress. Where Jensen had been lying. Next to Charlie. At the squat.

Jensen cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck.

“Guess I fell asleep,” he glanced down at Charlie who was still mostly asleep.

The kid—Kevin—was drinking water out of a bottle. “S’alright,” he shrugged. “Seems like she had a good night,” his lips twisted. “Which means she’s probably feeling a bit better. Which means she’ll probably want to go out and score when she wakes up.”

Jensen rolled forward onto his knees and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Here,” he handed Kevin a fifty dollar bill. “Go over to McDonalds and get us breakfast. I’ll have a bacon and egg McMuffin and a black coffee. Get whatever you want for you and Charlie.”

Kevin stared at the money and then looked up at Jensen, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not sucking your dick,” he said. “And Charlie isn’t either.”

Jensen sighed and waved the bill at him. “Fine. Just get us some food, okay?”

Kevin took the money grudgingly and backed away, not turning his back on Jensen until the last possible moment.

Jensen settled himself back on the mattress and looked down at Charlie who was properly awake now and staring up at him with big brown eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Tired. Emotional. Anxious. I ache, like, everywhere,” she hauled herself up into a sitting position and then leaned back against the wall, next to Jensen.  “I feel really anxious, Dean. Like, really, really anxious.” Charlie wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. “I think I should probably have just a small hit. Just to take the edge off so I don’t feel so anxious. And then I can concentrate properly on getting better.”

Jensen put an arm around her shoulders. “Kevin’s gonna bring you some coffee,” he said.

Fat, silent tears began to spill from Charlie’s eyes. “I can’t do this,” she said. “Everything hurts. And everything sucks. And I kinda wanna smash your face in right now only I haven’t got the energy and…I just want it to stop,” Charlie fisted her hands in Jensen’s tee-shirt. “Make it stop,” she said. “Please make it stop.”

“It gets better,” Jensen said. “I’m not gonna lie, you’re in for a rough couple of years. But if you stay strong, it will get better. I promise.”

Charlie began to cry in earnest then and Jensen held her close and stroked her hair and murmured platitudes just like Danneel had done for him when he’d gone through withdrawal.

When Kevin arrived with breakfast, Jensen ate his McMuffin in two bites and then sipped gratefully at his coffee. Kevin had apparently eaten his breakfast on the walk back from McDonalds and Charlie turned green just at the smell of the food so Kevin ate her hotcakes too. She did manage some coffee though.

“I gotta go earn some money,” Kevin said when he’d finished, brushing crumbs off his jeans and standing up.

Charlie perked up. “I should get going too. Head on down to the corner; see if I can bring home some cash.”

“Oh no,” said Jensen. “I know exactly what you’re planning on bringing home and I’m not gonna let you do it,” he met Kevin’s eyes. “I can stay. I’m not working again until tonight.”

Charlie punched him. “I hate you!” she tried to claw at his eyes, “Why don’t you just go away and leave us alone! We don’t want you! We don’t need you! We don’t—”

Jensen managed to get ahold of her arms and pin her down. Charlie screamed and screamed and nobody came to see if she was alright. Jensen felt sick. He was on top of Charlie, holding her down, and nobody cared. He glanced up at Kevin who looked like he was about to start crying. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’ll calm down in a minute. I’m not hurting her.”

Charlie went limp and started crying again, this time with some begging thrown in for good measure.

“It’s alright, kid,” Jensen said to Kevin. “I got this.”

Kevin nodded and began to move away, but stopped when Jensen called out to him. “Hang on a sec,” Jensen pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his address and cell phone number on the McMuffin wrapper. “If you guys need anything, feel free to come over or call me. But just you two, alright?”

After Kevin left, Gino strolled over for a visit. “I got cops to bribe so we don’t get kicked outta here,” he said to Charlie. “You gotta kick in, Girl, or you can’t stay.”

“I understand,” Charlie tried to stand up, but Jensen held onto her arm.

“How much?” he asked Gino.

“Fifty bucks for last week, fifty bucks for next week.”

Jensen handed over a hundred dollars, wordlessly.

Gino grinned and tipped his cap, before sauntering away again.

“Why are you doing this?” Charlie asked.

Jensen shrugged. He didn’t really have a good answer. “Just…paying it forward, I guess.”

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