amberdreams (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amberdreams) wrote2015-04-29 06:38 am
amberdreams) wrote2015-04-29 06:38 am
Entry tags:
Beautiful Neighbourhood - 2/2
Back to Part 1
Part 2
:::
Jensen had never been so happy to see the arrival of a Saturday. Only a few more hours of Jared’s manic preparations for his non-date, then Jensen could go to work and forget all about Genevieve. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the girl, or appreciate her many charms, though he hadn’t really met her yet, apart from that brief encounter on the stairs earlier in the week. No, Jensen was sure Genevieve was as perfectly lovely as Jared said she was. He was just heartily sick of hearing about every little detail that combined to make Genevieve the perfect woman.
Fortunately for Jensen’s sanity, Jared spent most of the morning in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Which in turn meant Jensen was kept busy wearing out a path to the Quickie Mart buying all the extras Jared had forgotten were essential to his culinary creative process. Jensen drew the line with half an hour to go before the Blessed Coming of Genevieve. Even the sight of Jared, hair standing on end and a smudge of chocolate frosting on his nose, putting on his very best impression of a kicked puppy, couldn’t persuade Jensen that he really needed to go find a nice bottle of rosé wine in case Genevieve didn’t like the perfectly good bottles of red and white he’d already had Jensen purchase.
Jensen crossed his arms and stood his ground. He’d just about exhausted all his shady nightclub connections to get this feast sorted for Jared already, and enough was enough. Hell, he’d hardly ever tasted half of these rare delicacies in his lifetime, and right now he was hungry enough to lick the frosting off Jared’s nose just to get a taste of chocolate. Which – no.
“No, Jared. No more. The kitchen’s already groaning with all the stuff you’ve stacked up to feed one tiny little woman.” Jensen gestured at the counter top, which was no longer visible. There was barely an inch of surface that wasn’t covered with key lime pie, strawberry Pavlova, chocolate fudge cake and various plates piled high with savory snacks. “There’s white wine chilling in the fridge, three bottles of red wine in the cupboard, two six packs of beer plus four different kinds of fruit juice in case she’s teetotal. She’s only coming for a few hours, Jay, not the duration of a siege.”
“I know, Jen, but I just want everything to be perfect.”
Jensen walked over and pulled Jared into a one-armed hug. “Jay-man, it is perfect, okay?”
He let go and stepped back, looking up into Jared’s anxious eyes, resisting the temptation to smooth his tousled hair. Or lick him. “She’s going to love it, you’ll see. I just wish you’d change your mind and do this yourself, man. It’s you she wants to meet, not me.”
Jared shook his head vehemently and looked away, pretending to fiddle with a plate of something fancy Jensen didn’t even recognize. Damn. This dinner date was really going to go well if he didn’t even know what food he was serving…
“Okay then, Tigger. I think I’ve got your conversations straight now, so you’d better fill me in on the menu for this meal you’ve created or she’s going to catch me out with the entrées.”
There weren’t many occasions in Jensen’s life that he was grateful to Manticore but the last few days seemed to have brought up quite a few – preparing for this lunch date being one of them. His genetically enhanced brain and his intensive training meant that memorizing every detail Jared gave him had been fairly painless. If the poor girl wanted to know the detailed recipe for any one of the three alternative main courses Jared had prepared, Jensen was her man.
When the knock came on the door, Jensen was fairly confident he could hold his own when it came to food and generalities. He just wasn’t sure about the whole wooing part of Jared’s plan.
He waited until Jared had disappeared into his bedroom before flinging the door open with a smile.
:::
Genevieve was feeling nervous when she arrived at the door of #401, and the trepidation was making her cranky. When the door finally opened wide she wasn’t sure what to expect, but certainly not the extraordinarily pretty guy who smiled down at her, his strangely familiar white teeth gleaming. His brown hair was almost buzz-cut short, which accentuated slightly pointed ears and exposed the almost model-perfect cheekbones. He had clearly made an effort in dressing for the occasion; casual but smart. He was wearing a white Henley that showed off a light tan, broad shoulders and a slim torso, and his black jeans hugged slim hips. He had eyes most women would envy, large and green, fringed with thick lashes.
Her first thought was he’s tall, quickly followed by whoa, and totally hot. She was suddenly very glad she’d worn her boots with the three-inch heels – though on second thought, maybe six inches might have been more useful for massaging her suddenly fragile ego. Even with the extra height, she was getting a crick in her neck standing in the doorway. Oh. Yeah. Perhaps that was her cue to stop staring like an idiot and move. The smile on Jay’s face was starting to waver slightly.
“Hi!” she said brightly, holding out the bottle of pre-Pulse chardonnay she’d brought – an expensive moving in gift from her father. Jay’s smile dimmed further then instantly brightened again, but not in time for Genevieve to avoid the recognition that this was the look of someone receiving an unwanted gift.
“Great,” he said, “more wine! Come on in.” He threw what looked like a pointed look over his shoulder, as if saying I told you so, but when Gen looked in that direction there was nothing there, just an internal hallway that probably led to the bedrooms, if Jay’s apartment was laid out the same as hers.
Immediately upon entering the living room an assortment of cooking aromas surrounded her. The combination of fragrances made her mouth water, though she was having trouble recognizing a single one out of the many. There were definitely fried onions, and garlic, and maybe something spicy, like chili, but there was also a hint of other herbs, and roast meat and something fishy – and oh my god, she was incredibly hungry.
“You know, you don’t look anything like I imagined,” Gen blurted as Jay led her across the open plan living area to the dining table that had been set up in front of the tall windows so they would be able to look out over the city while they ate. She must have imagined how Jay’s shoulders stiffened slightly at her words, because when he turned around to pull out her chair with a flourish, his smile looked completely genuine this time. In fact, his expression was bordering on mischievous.
“Really? So what were you imagining during all those little dumbwaiter conversations, then? Someone taller, perhaps? Maybe with longer hair? Go on, do tell.”
“Taller? Oh no, I think you’re tall enough!” Gen sat down and let Jay play waiter. It had been a while since the disaster that had been Gen’s last relationship, so the attention felt a bit weird, but also kind of nice. Jay disappeared for a moment and re-emerged with two plates of food.
“Starters,” he said with a grin and sat down. There was a bottle of white wine already opened on the table, the condensation running down the surface of the glass and sparkling like diamonds in the low winter sunlight. Gen speared a forkful of the creamy concoction and closed her eyes as the flavor exploded on her tongue. “ Wow, this is fabulous, what is it?”
“Salt-crust baked celeriac with crème fraîche,” he said, with what sounded like a remarkable lack of interest, considering how much effort he must have put into making the dish. He waved his fork at her. “So, you haven’t told me how I’m different from your imagining.”
Gen raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, considering. “I don’t know,” she mused. “Your voice sounds different too.”
“I guess talking through a shaft will do that, distort things a bit,” Jay said, before rapidly changing the subject. “So, tell me about your job. How are you settling in, working in television?”
“Oh, let’s not talk about me, I’ve been boring you to death with KIPH TV all week. How about you tell me a bit more about you. Like where you are from, and how you came to be a writer, that sort of thing.”
“Nothing much to tell, really. Writing isn’t the most exciting job in the world. Here, let me take your plate and bring you the next course,” Jay grabbed her plate before she’d even had a chance to put her fork down, and disappeared into the kitchen again. Apart from the fact that Jay seemed to have turned this lunch into a twenty course banquet, and that Genevieve started worrying that she was going to have to follow the example of the ancient Romans and have a purge between courses to prevent an explosion if she ate one more bite, Gen felt more and more awkward as time (and food) rolled by.
There was none of the ease of conversation that she had enjoyed so much during their week of interaction via the dumbwaiter, and if anything, Jay seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable. He didn’t want to talk about his work, his enthusiasm for cooking didn’t cross over into making it a topic for conversation, although he had all the recipes down pat, and Gen was struggling to find anything else to throw into the mix. They were finishing off the third starter – whisky and chili tiger prawns – when Jay put his napkin down and stood up, a look of determination on his face. Gen rather hoped he wasn’t going to the kitchen to bring out another plate of something just yet, her stomach was still struggling to digest the celeriac, followed by mushroom and fennel tartlets, and then spicy prawns on top.
“Screw this,” he said. “It really isn’t working, is it?”
He gave her an apologetic look then turned his head to look towards the bedrooms. “Jared! I know you’ve been listening. Get your butt out here and talk to your girl right now.”
He turned back to her and smiled, and suddenly it clicked why he’d looked so familiar.
“Oh my god,” she said. “It was you on the stairs on Tuesday. You’re the stripper at PullCity; you’re Jensen!”
“We prefer to be called exotic dancers, darling,” he said, “but yes, I’m Jensen. And this,” Gen heard a door open and the shuffle of feet behind her, “this is your Jay.”
She stood up and turned around to see the largest, shaggiest guy she’d ever seen shambling towards her, reluctance written in the sag of his broad shoulders, his head down and gaze firmly fixed on his rather large feet. Even as she tensed with the anger that was welling up inside her, a warm hand on her shoulder made her start. Jensen’s voice was low and quiet, but commanded her attention, even though part of her mind was busy trying to assimilate this whole turn-around.
“Meet my best friend, Jared. Don’t be too hard on him, Genevieve. He’s both stupid, and stupidly in love with you. Stupid because he has it fixed in his head he’s some kind of freak, and because he can’t get it through that exceptionally thick skull of his that we are all of us freaks, one way or another.”
Jensen released her shoulder to escort Jared to the vacant place at the table. “Sit!” he commanded, before going to the kitchen. Gen watched Jared fold himself slowly into the chair, hunched up as if he was expecting a blow, and found her anger was seeping away in the face of Jared’s obvious dejection. Jensen reappeared with a couple of bottles of beer, which he placed on the table in front of them.
“Now I’m going to get ready for work, and then I’ll leave you two alone to sort yourselves out. Genevieve, be gentle with him, please,” Jensen turned and grabbed Jared’s face in both hands, forcing his friend to look at him. His voice dropped a register, but Gen could still hear what he said, though it made no sense. Not then. “Jay-man, be honest with her, okay? I like her, and I think we can trust her. So if you want to tell her everything, it’s okay with me. You understand?”
Gen gasped a little when she caught sight of Jared’s eyes, wide and glittering. They were breath-taking as the light caught them – the irises glowing amber and gold – before Jared’s nod threw his long bangs across his face and his head dropped, concealing them from her view.
“Okay then,” Jensen said, then smiled at her, that hint of mischief back on his face. “Enjoy the rest of the feast my boy’s made for you, Genevieve. It was a pleasure to meet you.” His smile turned into a wicked grin as he ignored the look of horror Gen could feel creep across her features at the thought of more food, and he disappeared, this time into one of the bedrooms rather than the kitchen.
Gen and Jared sat in awkward silence for a few minutes listening to their own breathing and the faint sounds of Jensen getting ready. When Jensen finally emerged, resplendent in what Gen realized now was just the foundation for his drag costume, she was on the verge of either blowing up or leaving with him. A pleading glance from Jensen’s kohl-lined eyes kept her in her seat while the door closed behind him with a snick that made Jared visibly flinch.
Strangely, that little nervous movement calmed Genevieve down, and some of her tension left with Jensen. She could feel the muscles in her neck and shoulders relax a little. She stared at Jay – or Jared – but he kept his head down, and she couldn’t see anything of his face behind the curtain of rather nice, shiny chestnut hair.
A thought occurred to her. “You never had measles at all, did you?” A shake of the head from Jared and the last of her anger faded away. She sighed. “So come on, Jared, talk to me. Why did you lie, and hide?”
A heartbeat, two; then Jared tilted his head back and looked right at her.
“Because of this,” he made a circling gesture around his face. Genevieve stared – looking for something, a deformity, an abnormality, anything to explain Jensen’s words about Jared believing he was a freak.
The man who returned her stare with a desperate trepidation was certainly not ordinary. When he’d walked across the room, even though he’d been hunched up, she had been able to see that he was very tall, probably taller than Jensen, but lots of men were tall. His face was all sharp planes and angles; his brow-ridge was heavy, as if it was compensating for the weight of his long hair. There wasn’t a straight line anywhere on him. Jared’s face was almost the complete opposite of Jensen’s classic features. Jared’s nose was up-tilted and sharp, his forehead furrowed with tiny worry lines that Gen wanted to smooth away, but it was his eyes that arrested her. Those almond-shaped golden eyes – she’d never seen anyone with eyes quite like that before. They shifted like fire through gold and amber to ochre and burn umber.
“Your eyes,” she said, and Jared flinched again and looked away, which made her rush her words more than she meant. “They’re remarkable. Very unusual.” She didn’t say – beautiful – though that was what she thought. Maybe that was what she should have said, because Jared just seemed to shrink even further into himself, as if being told he was different was the worst crime in the world. Gen started to despair of ever getting anything more out of him.
Then between one awkward pause and the next, Jared began to talk. Once he started, the words flowed, and flowed, in a terrifying swell of horror that was overwhelming. Children bred in test tubes, experiments with animal DNA, secret military establishments, spies and assassins, creatures that were not human but that felt and thought and hurt like humans. Jared the X4R failed experiment; Jensen the success story, both abandoned all the same when they’d outworn their usefulness. The thread of fear that ran through the whole story, the terrible lack of self worth – it was all too much.
When Jared finally fell silent, Gen surfaced as if she’d just spent the last hour underwater, her ears still full of water and her head full of echoes. At some point she felt she might have forgotten to breathe. It was dizzying, her whole world-view had sliced and diced, and the pieces thrown into a kaleidoscope. Whatever the pattern was that it was showing now, it bore no resemblance to the one she knew.
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping on the floor making a teeth-jarring noise. She was conscious of Jared staring at her, waiting for something – affirmation, condemnation, she wasn’t sure what he expected – but she didn’t have anything for him right now. She was the eye of the storm, the center of an unnatural calm, and she took advantage of it while she could.
She held out her hand and watched with detachment as Jared, bemused, took it.
“Thank you for dinner, and for telling me the truth. I just need a little time to get my head straight,” she said, and she was a little proud of how composed she sounded. She turned and walked to the door, not looking back. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, whatever happens.”
She didn’t want to see the stricken look on Jared’s face as she closed the door behind her, so she didn’t look.
She didn’t look.
:::
When Jensen got back from the club, the apartment was dark and full of silence. Then he heard it – coming from the unlit living room, over the sound of the traffic outside and the tinny gunfire from Captain America’s TV downstairs – his genetically enhanced ears picked up Jared’s labored breathing.
It hadn’t gone so well with Genevieve, then. Damn. He’d been so sure she was a straight one. He’d seen how much affection she had for his boy, even though they’d never met, and he’d really thought she was going to come through for Jared. For them both really. Having a girl like Genevieve fall in love with Jared would have felt a little like redemption, giving Jensen hope that his Manticore conditioning wasn’t going to define him for the rest of his life.
Guess he’d been wrong.
Jensen didn’t bother turning on the lights, he could see well enough in less ambient light than this. He made his way into the living room, knowing Jared would have heard him enter the apartment anyway. Sure enough, Jared was sitting on the floor by the windows, the streetlights outside shining on the tear tracks on his face. Jared didn’t bother to wipe them away, and Jensen’s heart lurched in his chest in sympathy. He couched down next to Jared, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“What happened, Jay? Do you want to talk about it?”
Jared shook his head. Jensen was wondering whether he should leave his friend in peace to mourn, or to join him on the floor and offer himself up to lean on, when he heard a rattling noise coming from the kitchen.
“What the…?” Jensen said. Then he realized what it must be. Someone was using the dumbwaiter.
Jared stiffened and his head came up, and Jensen’s heart gave the second painful lurch of the night at the expression on Jared’s face – a perfect mix of terror and hope. Man, everything had been so much easier when all he’d had were comrades with numbers instead of names, and no friends to speak of.
“Do you want me to go see?”
Jared nodded, wordless. Jensen stood up and went to investigate, not knowing what to expect. The small door to the shaft was already open, and Jensen could see the dumbwaiter was there. Inside it was a single piece of paper folded in half, and weighted down with a polished stone the size of Jensen’s thumb. He picked both items up and smiled when a shaft of light from the window caught the silky surface of the rock.
He dropped the stone into Jared’s hand first, and watched his friend’s eyes widen as he recognized the golden chatoyant gemstone. Tiger’s eye. Jensen grinned as he handed Jared Genevieve’s note.
“Ten to one it’s an apology,” he said, and wasn’t upset when he lost the bet, because it was in fact an invitation to dinner on Sunday evening.
Maybe there was hope for the transgenics after all.
:::
On Sunday night, to celebrate, Jensen changed his PullCity set music to the pre-Pulse classic Eye of the Tiger, while back in Hetty Heights, Gen entertained Jared with pizza and beer and daring talk of venturing outside together. Downstairs the Reverend Misha Collins mixed henbane in his soup, because sometimes he liked to deal out a dose of death with his offers of salvation; Captain America fell asleep in front of his television and dreamed about a deadly throwing shield and fighting shoulder to shoulder with a blond giant Norse god; Mrs. Altefrau in #101 counted her children and wondered if maybe she misplaced one, or even two, she had so many; while in the basement, the mole people busied themselves in the dark, doing whatever mole people do.
The End
Return to Masterpost
Part 2
:::
Jensen had never been so happy to see the arrival of a Saturday. Only a few more hours of Jared’s manic preparations for his non-date, then Jensen could go to work and forget all about Genevieve. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the girl, or appreciate her many charms, though he hadn’t really met her yet, apart from that brief encounter on the stairs earlier in the week. No, Jensen was sure Genevieve was as perfectly lovely as Jared said she was. He was just heartily sick of hearing about every little detail that combined to make Genevieve the perfect woman.
Fortunately for Jensen’s sanity, Jared spent most of the morning in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Which in turn meant Jensen was kept busy wearing out a path to the Quickie Mart buying all the extras Jared had forgotten were essential to his culinary creative process. Jensen drew the line with half an hour to go before the Blessed Coming of Genevieve. Even the sight of Jared, hair standing on end and a smudge of chocolate frosting on his nose, putting on his very best impression of a kicked puppy, couldn’t persuade Jensen that he really needed to go find a nice bottle of rosé wine in case Genevieve didn’t like the perfectly good bottles of red and white he’d already had Jensen purchase.
Jensen crossed his arms and stood his ground. He’d just about exhausted all his shady nightclub connections to get this feast sorted for Jared already, and enough was enough. Hell, he’d hardly ever tasted half of these rare delicacies in his lifetime, and right now he was hungry enough to lick the frosting off Jared’s nose just to get a taste of chocolate. Which – no.
“No, Jared. No more. The kitchen’s already groaning with all the stuff you’ve stacked up to feed one tiny little woman.” Jensen gestured at the counter top, which was no longer visible. There was barely an inch of surface that wasn’t covered with key lime pie, strawberry Pavlova, chocolate fudge cake and various plates piled high with savory snacks. “There’s white wine chilling in the fridge, three bottles of red wine in the cupboard, two six packs of beer plus four different kinds of fruit juice in case she’s teetotal. She’s only coming for a few hours, Jay, not the duration of a siege.”
“I know, Jen, but I just want everything to be perfect.”
Jensen walked over and pulled Jared into a one-armed hug. “Jay-man, it is perfect, okay?”
He let go and stepped back, looking up into Jared’s anxious eyes, resisting the temptation to smooth his tousled hair. Or lick him. “She’s going to love it, you’ll see. I just wish you’d change your mind and do this yourself, man. It’s you she wants to meet, not me.”
Jared shook his head vehemently and looked away, pretending to fiddle with a plate of something fancy Jensen didn’t even recognize. Damn. This dinner date was really going to go well if he didn’t even know what food he was serving…
“Okay then, Tigger. I think I’ve got your conversations straight now, so you’d better fill me in on the menu for this meal you’ve created or she’s going to catch me out with the entrées.”
There weren’t many occasions in Jensen’s life that he was grateful to Manticore but the last few days seemed to have brought up quite a few – preparing for this lunch date being one of them. His genetically enhanced brain and his intensive training meant that memorizing every detail Jared gave him had been fairly painless. If the poor girl wanted to know the detailed recipe for any one of the three alternative main courses Jared had prepared, Jensen was her man.
When the knock came on the door, Jensen was fairly confident he could hold his own when it came to food and generalities. He just wasn’t sure about the whole wooing part of Jared’s plan.
He waited until Jared had disappeared into his bedroom before flinging the door open with a smile.
:::
Genevieve was feeling nervous when she arrived at the door of #401, and the trepidation was making her cranky. When the door finally opened wide she wasn’t sure what to expect, but certainly not the extraordinarily pretty guy who smiled down at her, his strangely familiar white teeth gleaming. His brown hair was almost buzz-cut short, which accentuated slightly pointed ears and exposed the almost model-perfect cheekbones. He had clearly made an effort in dressing for the occasion; casual but smart. He was wearing a white Henley that showed off a light tan, broad shoulders and a slim torso, and his black jeans hugged slim hips. He had eyes most women would envy, large and green, fringed with thick lashes.
Her first thought was he’s tall, quickly followed by whoa, and totally hot. She was suddenly very glad she’d worn her boots with the three-inch heels – though on second thought, maybe six inches might have been more useful for massaging her suddenly fragile ego. Even with the extra height, she was getting a crick in her neck standing in the doorway. Oh. Yeah. Perhaps that was her cue to stop staring like an idiot and move. The smile on Jay’s face was starting to waver slightly.
“Hi!” she said brightly, holding out the bottle of pre-Pulse chardonnay she’d brought – an expensive moving in gift from her father. Jay’s smile dimmed further then instantly brightened again, but not in time for Genevieve to avoid the recognition that this was the look of someone receiving an unwanted gift.
“Great,” he said, “more wine! Come on in.” He threw what looked like a pointed look over his shoulder, as if saying I told you so, but when Gen looked in that direction there was nothing there, just an internal hallway that probably led to the bedrooms, if Jay’s apartment was laid out the same as hers.
Immediately upon entering the living room an assortment of cooking aromas surrounded her. The combination of fragrances made her mouth water, though she was having trouble recognizing a single one out of the many. There were definitely fried onions, and garlic, and maybe something spicy, like chili, but there was also a hint of other herbs, and roast meat and something fishy – and oh my god, she was incredibly hungry.
“You know, you don’t look anything like I imagined,” Gen blurted as Jay led her across the open plan living area to the dining table that had been set up in front of the tall windows so they would be able to look out over the city while they ate. She must have imagined how Jay’s shoulders stiffened slightly at her words, because when he turned around to pull out her chair with a flourish, his smile looked completely genuine this time. In fact, his expression was bordering on mischievous.
“Really? So what were you imagining during all those little dumbwaiter conversations, then? Someone taller, perhaps? Maybe with longer hair? Go on, do tell.”
“Taller? Oh no, I think you’re tall enough!” Gen sat down and let Jay play waiter. It had been a while since the disaster that had been Gen’s last relationship, so the attention felt a bit weird, but also kind of nice. Jay disappeared for a moment and re-emerged with two plates of food.
“Starters,” he said with a grin and sat down. There was a bottle of white wine already opened on the table, the condensation running down the surface of the glass and sparkling like diamonds in the low winter sunlight. Gen speared a forkful of the creamy concoction and closed her eyes as the flavor exploded on her tongue. “ Wow, this is fabulous, what is it?”
“Salt-crust baked celeriac with crème fraîche,” he said, with what sounded like a remarkable lack of interest, considering how much effort he must have put into making the dish. He waved his fork at her. “So, you haven’t told me how I’m different from your imagining.”
Gen raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, considering. “I don’t know,” she mused. “Your voice sounds different too.”
“I guess talking through a shaft will do that, distort things a bit,” Jay said, before rapidly changing the subject. “So, tell me about your job. How are you settling in, working in television?”
“Oh, let’s not talk about me, I’ve been boring you to death with KIPH TV all week. How about you tell me a bit more about you. Like where you are from, and how you came to be a writer, that sort of thing.”
“Nothing much to tell, really. Writing isn’t the most exciting job in the world. Here, let me take your plate and bring you the next course,” Jay grabbed her plate before she’d even had a chance to put her fork down, and disappeared into the kitchen again. Apart from the fact that Jay seemed to have turned this lunch into a twenty course banquet, and that Genevieve started worrying that she was going to have to follow the example of the ancient Romans and have a purge between courses to prevent an explosion if she ate one more bite, Gen felt more and more awkward as time (and food) rolled by.
There was none of the ease of conversation that she had enjoyed so much during their week of interaction via the dumbwaiter, and if anything, Jay seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable. He didn’t want to talk about his work, his enthusiasm for cooking didn’t cross over into making it a topic for conversation, although he had all the recipes down pat, and Gen was struggling to find anything else to throw into the mix. They were finishing off the third starter – whisky and chili tiger prawns – when Jay put his napkin down and stood up, a look of determination on his face. Gen rather hoped he wasn’t going to the kitchen to bring out another plate of something just yet, her stomach was still struggling to digest the celeriac, followed by mushroom and fennel tartlets, and then spicy prawns on top.
“Screw this,” he said. “It really isn’t working, is it?”
He gave her an apologetic look then turned his head to look towards the bedrooms. “Jared! I know you’ve been listening. Get your butt out here and talk to your girl right now.”
He turned back to her and smiled, and suddenly it clicked why he’d looked so familiar.
“Oh my god,” she said. “It was you on the stairs on Tuesday. You’re the stripper at PullCity; you’re Jensen!”
“We prefer to be called exotic dancers, darling,” he said, “but yes, I’m Jensen. And this,” Gen heard a door open and the shuffle of feet behind her, “this is your Jay.”
She stood up and turned around to see the largest, shaggiest guy she’d ever seen shambling towards her, reluctance written in the sag of his broad shoulders, his head down and gaze firmly fixed on his rather large feet. Even as she tensed with the anger that was welling up inside her, a warm hand on her shoulder made her start. Jensen’s voice was low and quiet, but commanded her attention, even though part of her mind was busy trying to assimilate this whole turn-around.
“Meet my best friend, Jared. Don’t be too hard on him, Genevieve. He’s both stupid, and stupidly in love with you. Stupid because he has it fixed in his head he’s some kind of freak, and because he can’t get it through that exceptionally thick skull of his that we are all of us freaks, one way or another.”
Jensen released her shoulder to escort Jared to the vacant place at the table. “Sit!” he commanded, before going to the kitchen. Gen watched Jared fold himself slowly into the chair, hunched up as if he was expecting a blow, and found her anger was seeping away in the face of Jared’s obvious dejection. Jensen reappeared with a couple of bottles of beer, which he placed on the table in front of them.
“Now I’m going to get ready for work, and then I’ll leave you two alone to sort yourselves out. Genevieve, be gentle with him, please,” Jensen turned and grabbed Jared’s face in both hands, forcing his friend to look at him. His voice dropped a register, but Gen could still hear what he said, though it made no sense. Not then. “Jay-man, be honest with her, okay? I like her, and I think we can trust her. So if you want to tell her everything, it’s okay with me. You understand?”
Gen gasped a little when she caught sight of Jared’s eyes, wide and glittering. They were breath-taking as the light caught them – the irises glowing amber and gold – before Jared’s nod threw his long bangs across his face and his head dropped, concealing them from her view.
“Okay then,” Jensen said, then smiled at her, that hint of mischief back on his face. “Enjoy the rest of the feast my boy’s made for you, Genevieve. It was a pleasure to meet you.” His smile turned into a wicked grin as he ignored the look of horror Gen could feel creep across her features at the thought of more food, and he disappeared, this time into one of the bedrooms rather than the kitchen.
Gen and Jared sat in awkward silence for a few minutes listening to their own breathing and the faint sounds of Jensen getting ready. When Jensen finally emerged, resplendent in what Gen realized now was just the foundation for his drag costume, she was on the verge of either blowing up or leaving with him. A pleading glance from Jensen’s kohl-lined eyes kept her in her seat while the door closed behind him with a snick that made Jared visibly flinch.
Strangely, that little nervous movement calmed Genevieve down, and some of her tension left with Jensen. She could feel the muscles in her neck and shoulders relax a little. She stared at Jay – or Jared – but he kept his head down, and she couldn’t see anything of his face behind the curtain of rather nice, shiny chestnut hair.
A thought occurred to her. “You never had measles at all, did you?” A shake of the head from Jared and the last of her anger faded away. She sighed. “So come on, Jared, talk to me. Why did you lie, and hide?”
A heartbeat, two; then Jared tilted his head back and looked right at her.
“Because of this,” he made a circling gesture around his face. Genevieve stared – looking for something, a deformity, an abnormality, anything to explain Jensen’s words about Jared believing he was a freak.
The man who returned her stare with a desperate trepidation was certainly not ordinary. When he’d walked across the room, even though he’d been hunched up, she had been able to see that he was very tall, probably taller than Jensen, but lots of men were tall. His face was all sharp planes and angles; his brow-ridge was heavy, as if it was compensating for the weight of his long hair. There wasn’t a straight line anywhere on him. Jared’s face was almost the complete opposite of Jensen’s classic features. Jared’s nose was up-tilted and sharp, his forehead furrowed with tiny worry lines that Gen wanted to smooth away, but it was his eyes that arrested her. Those almond-shaped golden eyes – she’d never seen anyone with eyes quite like that before. They shifted like fire through gold and amber to ochre and burn umber.
“Your eyes,” she said, and Jared flinched again and looked away, which made her rush her words more than she meant. “They’re remarkable. Very unusual.” She didn’t say – beautiful – though that was what she thought. Maybe that was what she should have said, because Jared just seemed to shrink even further into himself, as if being told he was different was the worst crime in the world. Gen started to despair of ever getting anything more out of him.
Then between one awkward pause and the next, Jared began to talk. Once he started, the words flowed, and flowed, in a terrifying swell of horror that was overwhelming. Children bred in test tubes, experiments with animal DNA, secret military establishments, spies and assassins, creatures that were not human but that felt and thought and hurt like humans. Jared the X4R failed experiment; Jensen the success story, both abandoned all the same when they’d outworn their usefulness. The thread of fear that ran through the whole story, the terrible lack of self worth – it was all too much.
When Jared finally fell silent, Gen surfaced as if she’d just spent the last hour underwater, her ears still full of water and her head full of echoes. At some point she felt she might have forgotten to breathe. It was dizzying, her whole world-view had sliced and diced, and the pieces thrown into a kaleidoscope. Whatever the pattern was that it was showing now, it bore no resemblance to the one she knew.
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping on the floor making a teeth-jarring noise. She was conscious of Jared staring at her, waiting for something – affirmation, condemnation, she wasn’t sure what he expected – but she didn’t have anything for him right now. She was the eye of the storm, the center of an unnatural calm, and she took advantage of it while she could.
She held out her hand and watched with detachment as Jared, bemused, took it.
“Thank you for dinner, and for telling me the truth. I just need a little time to get my head straight,” she said, and she was a little proud of how composed she sounded. She turned and walked to the door, not looking back. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, whatever happens.”
She didn’t want to see the stricken look on Jared’s face as she closed the door behind her, so she didn’t look.
She didn’t look.
:::
When Jensen got back from the club, the apartment was dark and full of silence. Then he heard it – coming from the unlit living room, over the sound of the traffic outside and the tinny gunfire from Captain America’s TV downstairs – his genetically enhanced ears picked up Jared’s labored breathing.
It hadn’t gone so well with Genevieve, then. Damn. He’d been so sure she was a straight one. He’d seen how much affection she had for his boy, even though they’d never met, and he’d really thought she was going to come through for Jared. For them both really. Having a girl like Genevieve fall in love with Jared would have felt a little like redemption, giving Jensen hope that his Manticore conditioning wasn’t going to define him for the rest of his life.
Guess he’d been wrong.
Jensen didn’t bother turning on the lights, he could see well enough in less ambient light than this. He made his way into the living room, knowing Jared would have heard him enter the apartment anyway. Sure enough, Jared was sitting on the floor by the windows, the streetlights outside shining on the tear tracks on his face. Jared didn’t bother to wipe them away, and Jensen’s heart lurched in his chest in sympathy. He couched down next to Jared, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“What happened, Jay? Do you want to talk about it?”
Jared shook his head. Jensen was wondering whether he should leave his friend in peace to mourn, or to join him on the floor and offer himself up to lean on, when he heard a rattling noise coming from the kitchen.
“What the…?” Jensen said. Then he realized what it must be. Someone was using the dumbwaiter.
Jared stiffened and his head came up, and Jensen’s heart gave the second painful lurch of the night at the expression on Jared’s face – a perfect mix of terror and hope. Man, everything had been so much easier when all he’d had were comrades with numbers instead of names, and no friends to speak of.
“Do you want me to go see?”
Jared nodded, wordless. Jensen stood up and went to investigate, not knowing what to expect. The small door to the shaft was already open, and Jensen could see the dumbwaiter was there. Inside it was a single piece of paper folded in half, and weighted down with a polished stone the size of Jensen’s thumb. He picked both items up and smiled when a shaft of light from the window caught the silky surface of the rock.
He dropped the stone into Jared’s hand first, and watched his friend’s eyes widen as he recognized the golden chatoyant gemstone. Tiger’s eye. Jensen grinned as he handed Jared Genevieve’s note.
“Ten to one it’s an apology,” he said, and wasn’t upset when he lost the bet, because it was in fact an invitation to dinner on Sunday evening.
Maybe there was hope for the transgenics after all.
:::
On Sunday night, to celebrate, Jensen changed his PullCity set music to the pre-Pulse classic Eye of the Tiger, while back in Hetty Heights, Gen entertained Jared with pizza and beer and daring talk of venturing outside together. Downstairs the Reverend Misha Collins mixed henbane in his soup, because sometimes he liked to deal out a dose of death with his offers of salvation; Captain America fell asleep in front of his television and dreamed about a deadly throwing shield and fighting shoulder to shoulder with a blond giant Norse god; Mrs. Altefrau in #101 counted her children and wondered if maybe she misplaced one, or even two, she had so many; while in the basement, the mole people busied themselves in the dark, doing whatever mole people do.
The End
Return to Masterpost
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Your characterizations were wonderful; from cross dressing transgenic Jensen, to quiet and reserved tiger Jared, to an open and understanding Genevieve.
I loved how you captured the Dark Angel world, and the tender feel-good vibe of the storyline and fic was wonderfully heartwarming.
Thank you for sharing, this was a treat to read. :)
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Plus, that ending is perfect. With the visual and almost camera like sweeping POV as it captures a snapshot of all the inhabitants of the buildings, even the mole people. That was pretty damn cool. Take care :)
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I am really chuffed you liked that last little scene!
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Gen was perfect too. I was glad that after meeting Jared face-to-face, she needed time to think. You made her human and sweet and spunky but also real.
And your Jared made me long for a prequel and a sequel! ;D
Thanks for sharing this!
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