tebtosca | FIC: These Magic Words Part Two (Jared/Jensen NC-17)

PART TWO

“I know I’m getting distracted, but you would be too if you could see him. I mean, he’s just so tall and he has this hair that curls up right behind his ears, and I can’t even tell what color his eyes are, but they sparkle. And, really, I must be all balled up if I’m saying words like sparkle, but he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m that much of a pushover to fall for his shenanigans!”

Cat hisses with disdain and leaps off the couch to get as far away from Jensen’s one-sided conversation as possible.

Jensen sighs. He really needs new friends. Or at least friends that can talk back.

The next night finds him out on the shore once again. It’s late, past midnight, and the noises coming from the water sound ominous in the dark. He feels like a thief, and though he knows this is probably not the brightest idea he’s ever had, Jensen’s just annoyed enough at himself for letting the elusive Padalecki get the better of him that he’s going to give it a shot.

Jensen tries not to think about the kindness in Mama Kim’s eyes or the way Danneel winked at him when he left. Perhaps they aren’t as culpable as Sheppard, but he’s not foolish enough to think that he’s completely pulling the wool over their eyes.

He starts by slipping through the archway leading to the first building in the sideshow, bypassing the now-gated-up front entrance and moving along the side to see if there is another doorway in. He’s not exactly sure what he’s looking for, but he figures he’ll know it when he sees it.

Access, though, is denied, when the second entrance he finds is also locked up tight. Jensen curses and wishes he was as big of a hooligan as his stepfather thought he was, if only so he’d be able to pick the damn lock.

Jensen takes a minute to reassess and, pulling his coat tighter around himself, slides alongside the building back towards the big top part of the structure. Surely access there will be a little more lenient, and he might be able to sneak in.

He gets closer, and his excitement grows when he sees an opening in the side, which appears to lead to the stage area. Jensen’s just reaching out to push back the flap and carefully peer inside, when a figure comes out of the dark and grabs his wrist.

Jensen will admit later that the yelp he lets out is a bit undignified.

“Jensen!” Jared exclaims, smile bright even in the dark of the night. “You came back.”

Jensen tries to pull back, but Jared’s grip on his wrist is firm, and the man must be able to feel Jensen’s pulse racing. Jared is still smiling, and Jensen can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Um, yes? Yes! I just wanted to see you,” Jensen says quickly, knowing it’s ridiculous considering the fact that it’s verging on one o’clock in the morning and he just got caught trying to break into a building.

The pressure on Jensen’s wrist lessens, but Jared doesn’t let go. The little circles he starts tracing with his thumbs over the tender skin there are immediately soothing to Jensen. That weird sensation alone is enough to give Jensen the heebie-jeebies.

“You probably wanted to come back when you could see the stars best, right? The view is extra beautiful out here by the water.”

Jared’s close to him now, sharing air, and Jensen knows that Jared’s giving him an out but can’t tell to what end. What’s even stranger is that Jared doesn’t look at all surprised to find him, and if Jensen didn’t know better, he would think that Jared knew he was going to be here.

“Yeah, the stars. I heard they were really lovely out here.”

Jared smiles again, softer this time, just the edges of his dimples showing. “Well, what do you know? I was just about to do the same thing.”

Jensen follows quietly as Jared leads them both out towards the boardwalk, to an empty wooden bench with a view of the water and the wide expanse of ink-black sky.

He doesn’t let Jensen’s wrist go until they sit. Jensen can taste the salt in the air, the rumble of the waves in his bones.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Jensen tries not to look at him, worried that if he does then he’ll be expected to explain himself.

Jared breaks the moment for him, pulling a small silver flask out of his coat pocket and uncapping it with flair. He tips it towards his lips and closes his eyes as he drinks. Jensen watches the way his throat works, mesmerized by the movement under the thin, smooth skin.

“Want a bit of hooch? I won’t tell if you won’t,” Jared says with a grin, holding out the flask to Jensen.

Jensen pauses, looking between the flask and Jared’s face. He’s been to a few speakeasies in his time, usually when he’s needed to scratch that particular itch, but he’s surprised that Jared is so open about it with someone that is practically a stranger.

“Come on, Jensen. A little giggle water never hurt nobody.”

Jared’s teasing him now, Jensen can tell, and he can’t help but match Jared’s easy smile.

“Are you trying to get me primed, Mr. Padalecki? Don’t think it’s going to be that easy to take advantage.”

“Just a little razzing, Mr. Ackles. It’d be no fun if you were a total pushover.”

Jensen flushes all the way up his neck when he realizes that this is flirting, that they are flirting, and he snatches the flask out of Jared’s hand and drinks a little too quickly. He starts coughing when the hooch goes down, the cheap bootleg burning all the way.

Jared laughs as he starts pounding Jensen on the back. Jensen waves him off, embarrassed yet tingling from the feel of Jared’s hands anywhere on his body.

Jensen shakes his head, trying to regain some of his composure and remember why he’s here in the first place. He sets his shoulders and looks over at Jared, who still appears bemused as he recaps the flask puts it back in his pocket.

“So,” Jensen begins, putting on his best professional voice and ignoring how Jared’s eyebrows shoot up at the shift in tone. “Tell me how you do it.”

Jared’s face is the picture of feigned innocence, and Jensen has to flex his fist to keep himself from reaching over and touching it. “How I do what?”

“You know, all the tricks. Pretending to read people’s minds. Pretending to read mine.”

“Who says I’m pretending?”

“Oh yeah, then what am I thinking right now?”

“You’re trying to decide whether you want to run screaming or move a little closer.”

Jensen makes a little hurt noise and looks away.

A finger runs down the length of the exposed side of Jensen’s neck, the touch as gentle as a breeze.

Jared’s voice is soft. “Your cat scratched you up pretty good. It’s not as red as it was the other day though. Could see it all the way from the stage.”

Jensen turns quickly back to look at Jared in surprise, which shakes Jared’s hand right off of him, instantly missing the phantom sensation of the touch.

“My cat scratched me. And you could see it,” Jensen repeats, working it out in his head, realizing that Jared is giving him the explanation that he needs to have it all make sense in his head.

“Something like that,” Jared whispers, and it takes a beat for Jensen to realize just how close they have moved together. Jared smells like liquor and peppermint and the sea, and Jensen breathes it all in as their lips instinctively move closer to each other.

“Jared! You out here? We’re shutting down, boy.”

A gruff voice breaks through their reverie and Jensen gasps, realizing what he almost allowed to happen. And in public, of all things!

“I’m here, Jim! Have a good night,” Jared calls out in return, looking back at Jensen with what Jensen thinks might be a tinge of sadness in his eyes.

“That’s Jim, our head rigger. He makes sure everything is working properly, and shuts us down at night,” Jared explains. He’s sitting up now, face turned towards the sky with a wistful expression on it.

“That’s good. Real good,” Jensen replies, feeling flustered and unsure of what to say.

“Look at all those stars, Jensen. Look at how they dance.”

“Like magic,” Jensen says, but all he can see is Jared.

==

“You have forty-eight hours.”

“But, Sir –“

“Don’t you Sir me, Ackles. You think I’m running a charity here? You think I give one iota of a damn about how you get your story? I don’t.”

“Mr. Morgan, please, I just need a little bit more time—“

“If that piece isn’t on my desk in forty-eight hours, Sampson is getting your byline.”

“One more week, I swear—“

“Enough. Dry up and get out of my office before I throw this pencil at you.”

“Yes, sir.”

==

Jensen’s desperate, and he knows it.

He barely even knows the story he’s trying to tell anymore, feelings jumbled up between wanting to prove himself to Morgan and Cindy and his stepfather and himself, and the way he’s drawn to Jared. It’s like Jared knows him, really knows him, and every time Jensen tries to explain it away with his own loneliness, the excuse doesn’t feel right.

But that doesn’t matter now because here he is, back in the middle of the night, breaking into the big top. It’s much later now, and Jensen feels secure in the knowledge that everyone is likely asleep.

It’s eerie being inside the structure like this, all alone, the whole place dark except for the prick of light coming from Jensen’s flashlight. If Jensen listens hard enough, he can almost hear the phantom sound of applause coming from the now-empty seats.

He stands there for a moment, in the middle of the stage where the spotlight would have been on Jared, and looks out at the empty house. He points the light on where his seat was that first day and freezes.

There’s no way Jared would be able to see a cat scratch on Jensen’s neck from this distance, no matter how red.

It scares him then, the flash of doubt, the tiny niggling sensation creeping up his spine telling him to believe.

He uses that fear and turns it back inward, into determination. With new purpose, he searches the stage area and spots one of Jared’s many theatrical contraptions. This one is a long glass box, rectangular shaped and sitting on a platform with a few steps leading up into it. It’s long enough for even Jared’s overly tall frame, and although Jensen hasn’t seen the effect that goes into it, he assumes that there is some sort of secret unlocking mechanism inside of it that he can find.

Jensen steps gingerly up to the box, thankful to discover that the lid isn’t locked. It’s heavy, but he just manages to get it open with one hand, while he uses the other to hold the flashlight and peer inside.

It’s empty, just smooth glass, but it’s deep enough that even with the light, Jensen can’t quite make out the corners at the bottom. Taking a steadying breath, he tucks the flashlight into his pocket and manages to pull himself up and over into the tank.

He stumbles in the dark, his feet slipping, and he winds up flat on his back. Before he has time to stop it, the lid of the box comes slamming down, and Jensen reaches up blindly to try and push it back open.

It won’t budge. Jensen’s heart starts beating loudly in his chest, and he twists around to pull out the flashlight. The box is narrower than he expected, and he just barely manages to get the device out of his pocket without hitting against the sides of the glass.

“Come on, come on,” Jensen mumbles to himself, flicking the switch on the light. Nothing happens, and Jensen tries turning it on and off without any success. Just his luck that the battery decides to die just when he needs it most.

“Okay, think, Jensen,” he says aloud, trying to calm him nerves. He pushes up on the lid again, feeling around as best he can for a few different places that might have a latch to release him. Jared gets out of this thing on stage in front of a hundred people so there has to be a trick involved.

The lid won’t move and the darkness surrounding him is almost like a living thing suffocating him. He kicks out in frustration, yelping as his foot hits hard against something metal.

Then he hears it: a rushing noise like one hears when you turn on the faucet full blast. A second later he feels it, the wet spray of water over his feet and bottoms of his pants. The water starts rolling back, fast, and before he knows it, the entire backside of his body is soaked.

Jensen realizes with terror that this must be some kind of water chamber, one of those tricks where the illusionist has to escape before drowning.

But Jensen isn’t an illusionist and he doesn’t know any tricks, and in one blinding moment, he realizes this box might just be his coffin.

Jensen starts pounding on the lid, his fingernails scratching across glass. He yells out, but he has no way of knowing if the box is soundproof or not, and if anyone can even hear him in the middle of the night all the way across the lot from where the sideshow acts sleep.

He doesn’t want to die, he thinks to himself, as the water rushes over the front of his coat and sits heavy on his chest. There are so many things he hasn’t done, so many people he hasn’t met. He wants to play in the snow, feel a waterfall crest over him, run along the beach with hot sand seeping through his toes. He wants to hear children laughing, wants to write the Great American Novel, wants to grow old knowing he’s been loved.

He wants to know what it feels like to kiss Jared, out in the open, sun shining down.

The water rises over his face and under his glasses, and he blinks his eyes, mouth closing as the wetness eats the last of his protest.

I don't want to die alone, is the last thing he thinks, before the world explodes.

Jensen sucks in a huge gasp of air, lungs filling with air even as they burn. His eyes open but the sudden light is so bright after the darkness that all he can see is a blinding white glare.

His limbs flail, water spraying from him with the motions, and he tries to find his balance before realizing there is nothing underneath him.

Jensen’s floating in mid-air over the stage, shards of glass from the shattered tank surrounding him like a meteor shower.

“Jensen!” There’s a voice, and Jensen knows immediately it’s Jared and that he’s close. Suddenly, like his name is the scissors that cuts the puppet strings, he’s falling from the sky.

Jensen screams, gravity pulling him down as glass rains down on top of him. His life flashes before his eyes for the second time in minutes, as the sudden picture of himself with a broken neck takes over his brain.

He doesn’t land on the ground though, but instead in the safe comfort of Jared’s arms. Jensen’s coughing, rolling over and hacking, water bubbling up from his mouth and from his nose, running down his cheeks and into his neck.

“Jensen, oh God, are you okay?”

Jensen’s eyes are red and blurry, his glasses gone in the commotion, but he blinks them open until he can see Jared above him. Jared’s hair is messy and there are creases in his face, like he just hopped out of bed moments before. Jensen coughs again, pressing into Jared’s chest and realizing that Jared’s wearing nothing more than a threadbare undershirt.

“I’m sorry I was so late. I’m sorry I didn’t see it in time.”

Jensen’s voice is wrecked and he’s confused as all hell, but he reaches up to ball his fist in the soft material covering Jared’s body and looks him straight in the eye. “Did you hear me? Did you hear me yelling for help?”

Jared’s face is so achingly tender in that moment, like he wants to give Jensen the answers that he wants, but doesn’t know how. “No, Jensen. I saw you. In my head, while I was sleeping.”

“You saved me. How did you save me?” Jensen says, numb, the words coming out in a rush.

Jared just shakes his head and holds Jensen closer to his sleep-warm body.

“I was flying, Jared. You made me fly. How did you do that?”

“It’s okay, Jensen. You’re okay now. We’re okay now.”

==

Eleven Years Ago

“You’re okay, kid. You’re gonna be okay.”

Jared remembers hiding.

Mama falls, her head cracks on the pavement. Blood seeps from the gash in her forehead. Her skin is powdered white because they’re going to the picture show. Her dress was blue. Now it’s red and brown.

Jared remembers listening.

The man with the gun hits Daddy across the face until he falls next to Mama. Daddy crawls to her but she doesn’t move. The man kicks Daddy, kicks him so hard that Daddy cries out.

“This is your fault. Shoulda listened,” the man says, pointing the gun at Daddy head.

Jared remembers crying.

The boom of the gun is everywhere, seeping into Jared’s bones like a sickness. It rattles his brain, shakes the tears right out of his eyes until they coat his face.

Jared remembers running.

His legs pump as fast as they can, pushing him forward, across, down the alley, anywhere and nowhere at all.

It was raining earlier. The puddles splash under his brand news shoes, the ones with the laces that Mama got him for his tenth birthday last week. Mama’s going to be so mad that he got them dirty.

Jared remembers seeing.

Before they turned the corner, before the man with the gun came, before Mama’s head cracked open like a melon, before Daddy cried and Jared’s world died, Jared saw it.

A flash of crimson came over his mind and everything that came afterwards played like a silent movie two minutes before it actually happened.

Jared remembers staying silent.

Mama wouldn’t believe him. Daddy would scold him for making up stories. They wouldn’t let him go the picture show anymore because of it.

Jared remembers sitting still.

The alley comes to a dead end and he stops, breath stuttering out of him and legs aching from the strain. There’s a crate there, safe above the puddles, and Jared climbs on it.

Jared remembers the world tilting.

His head hurts, hurts so bad. A pressure builds in his forehead, like his brain wants to bust right out of his face. Jared huffs a breath, but the pressure’s still there. He’s dizzy then, like he’s the one that fell and cracked his skull and not his Mama, his beautiful Mama.

Jared remembers the objects dancing.

They rise then, like toy soldiers preparing for war. Cans, trash, bottles. Hovering in the air like hummingbirds, circling Jared’s person, dipping down and then back up, swirling and dancing and alive.

The pressure builds, squeezing the life out of him until his mouth opens up in a silent scream, and the objects move wildly, spinning around and around like a furious tornado.

Jared remembers the pop.

Glass explodes, raining down on his face. He closes his eyes and feels the cuts, the blood trickling down his face. Thinks of his Mama of tying his bow tie before they left the house. Thinks of her eyes staring at him without seeing him at all. Thinks about her never seeing again.

Jared remembers the man.

“You’re okay, kid. You’re gonna be okay.”

He’s not the man with the gun, but Jared’s too spent to care even if he was. This man is small, suit neat and smart, hair like a flat crown on his head. He comes towards Jared slowly, holding his hands up like he’s trying to reassure him. He has a funny accent.

“What’s wrong with me?” Jared asks. The words are strange in his mouth.

“Not a damn thing,” says the man. He puts a hand on Jared’s cheek, and Jared knows it’ll come back wet with blood.

Jared remembers one life ending.

The man picks Jared up in his arms and cradles him like a babe. He starts back down the alley.

Jared remembers a new life beginning.

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==

Jensen’s still in a daze as he’s led back Jared’s small apartment in the complex behind the sideshow. He waves off the idea of going to the hospital, more concerned with figuring out exactly what just happened to worry about anything else.

Jared gives him some dry clothes to change into, and their hands brush as Jensen takes them before heading into the bathroom to clean up. He comes out, still shivering lightly, and Jared is there to wrap him in a thick wool blanket. Jensen looks up at him, and Jared reaches down to right the now-crooked glasses they salvaged from the rubble that are sitting again on Jensen's face. The touch feels intimate and momentous.

Jensen sits on the sofa in silence as Jared makes them both a cup of tea. It’s the middle of the night and the air is still. Jensen doesn’t know where to begin, but Jared takes care of that decision for him as he hands over a mug and sits next to him.

“When I was ten years old, my parents were killed by a man trying to steal my mother’s jewelry and my father’s pocketbook on our way to the cinema,” Jared begins, and holds his hand up in the air when Jensen goes to give condolences for his loss.

“The reason I’m not dead too is because I saw it happen a few minutes prior, in my mind. When we turned that corner it was like I knew instinctively what was going to happen next, and I hid before the man could see me.” Jared pauses then, and Jensen can see the residual guilt of survival dancing across his features.

“I watched them die and I just ran, as fast as I could go. I ended up in an alleyway, where something remarkable happened – everything on the ground started swirling in the air, all around me where I sat. I didn’t know it then, of course, but later I learned that my emotional state triggered my latent telekinesis.”

“Jared,” Jensen breathes out, trying to work out all of this in his head, but struggling. “Are you saying that all of that on stage just now –you did all that with your mind?”

Jared nods, and there’s a sadness tinged in it. “Yes, although that was a little messier than usual. My panic overwhelmed my control and the only thing I could think about was getting you out of that tank.”

Jensen swallows hard, but nods in understanding. “So, how did you end up here? With Sheppard and the rest?”

“Shep found me that night, in the alleyway. He saw what happened when my powers got triggered and recognized what was happening. He took me with him, raised me like his own son.”

“You mean he kidnapped you?” Jensen says, aghast, but Jared shakes his head vehemently.

“He saved me. I had nothing left, no other family, and I was so scared. You have no idea how scared I was. And Shep, he understood what was happening to me because his sister had the same powers. He knew she could help me.”

Jared puts his mug down on the small table in front of the couch, and takes Jensen’s cup to do the same. He turns his body closer to Jensen, and places his palms over Jensen’s hands where they are balled up in his lap.

“Shep’s sister Alaina taught me how to use my powers, how to control them and stop being afraid. We traveled together, all of us, and we became a family.” Jared rubs circles into Jensen’s skin, and Jensen wonders if there is some magic in his fingertips as well. “Alaina got sick when I was sixteen. She and I both saw it in a vision, but we didn’t tell anyone else about it so that Shep wouldn’t worry. That was our secret, hers and mine, and when she died I promised her that I would look after everyone as best I could.”

“Is that why you guys settled down here at the shore?” Jensen asks, and Jared nods in agreement.

“Yeah, we were all devastated, but Shep thought some stability would help. It took us a bit of time to find a place that felt right, but when we saw this location, we knew it was ideal. Alaina always loved the water.”

“Jared, I have you be honest with you,” Jensen says. He might be all mixed up right now, but he feels compelled to confess his real intentions about his article.

Jared just smiles, and squeezes Jensen’s hands again. He doesn’t let go though, and the relief Jensen feels is palpable. “I already know, Jensen. I had a vision about you, the night before you came the first time. I didn’t know what it meant at first, but I knew there was an angry cat involved.”

Jensen lets out a surprised laugh. “Well, there is no angrier cat then Cat.”

“Maybe because you named him Cat,” Jared points out and Jensen laughs again because it’s true.

Jensen freezes then, when he realizes that Jared actually had a vision about him and that has to mean something. “Did you have any other visions about me?”

Jared reaches up then, his hand hovering next to Jensen’s face. Jensen holds his breath, waiting to see what Jared will do. Slowly, achingly slow, Jared cradles Jensen’s face in his palm and leans forward until they are sharing the same air.

“I saw us happy, Jensen. Together and happy.”

“Happy,” Jensen repeats, awestruck, as Jared’s mouth finally touches his own in the most tender kiss of his life.

It doesn’t stay tender though, as Jensen gets with the program and has both of his hands tangled in Jared’s hair and their tongues slicking each other’s mouth within seconds.

Jensen pulls back with a gasp after a few minutes. “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I saw that damn flyer.”

Jared laughs, this time higher and lighter, and his dimples are so deep that Jensen knows he can – that he will-- get lost in them. “I’ve wanted to do more than that.”

Jensen can feel himself flush all over. “What’s stopping you?”

“You almost died.”

“And you saved me.”

Jensen doesn’t get any more words out then because Jared is lifting him up and off the couch so fast that Jensen just has enough time to wrap his legs around Jared’s waist before he is starting towards the bedroom.

Jared drops him to the bed gently, climbing over him until their bodies are lined up. The heat of him is intoxicating, Jared’s frame a shadow that should be scary but is instead comforting. Jensen nods then, giving permission to take anything he wants, to give him everything in return.

Jared takes what he grants, and starts peeling his own clothes off of Jensen’s body. His touch is reverent, loving, unlike any of those quick, guilty fumbles that Jensen’s had in the past when the physical ache grew to be too much.

“You, too. I want to see you,” Jensen murmurs, pushing at Jared’s shirt until he pulls it up and over his head.

Jared’s even more beautiful like this, skin bare and warm under Jensen’s fingertips as he reaches up to touch. Jared tips down again, taking Jensen’s lips with his own, binding them together.

Jared slides his hands down to drag the material from Jensen’s hips until there is nothing between them, the hardness of Jensen’s manhood pressed proud against their bellies.

“Please, Jared. Please,” Jensen whines, tugging at Jared’s pants until his erection breaks free as well. They both gasp when they touch, skin on skin, and their mouths come crashing together in wet, clacking desperation.

Jared’s hand is finally around him, and Jensen moans, low and deep in his throat. There’s too much friction, so Jared sweeps the pearls of precome from the crown down the length of Jensen’s shaft, tugging and searching for the rhythm that will make Jensen keen underneath him.

Jensen instinctively brings his legs up and wraps them around Jared’s hips, causing Jared’s own erection to slide down to the little dark crevice between Jensen’s ass cheeks. His hardness catches on Jensen’s rim, too dry, too tight, but just enough, and Jensen thinks about the promise of next time and the time after that.

Jared spits in his hand then, quickly and efficiently, like he doesn’t want to let go of Jensen’s cock but wants to make things easier. It helps, when he brings his palm back down the wetness makes the glide so much smoother.

Jared’s finds the rhythm now, that perfect natural rhythm that Jensen’s never felt with another person before, and as their teeth clack and he strokes Jensen fast and long, he fucks up into the curve of Jensen’s clenching cheeks.

They rub together like that, grunting and frantic and intimate, until Jensen cries out and spills white all over Jared’s hand. Jared follows soon after, biting down hard on Jensen’s shoulder as he pumps his orgasm out and slicks the secret parts of Jensen’s skin.

Eventually, Jared pulls the blanket up over their messy, exhausted bodies, and they lie together in silent comfort. Jensen listens to the steady thumping of Jared’s heartbeat, and knows finally how magical the world really is.

==

Epilogue: Three Months Later

“I don’t think Cat’s ever been this happy. It’s terrible.”

Jared laughs and hands Jensen a slice of orange as they sit and watch Osric—The Mighty Chau—practicing his new act, which involves holding a table up as Danneel stands on it with Cat balanced on her mass of red curls.

Cat is preening, the bastard.

“And Danneel is happy because she can do… that,” Jared says, waiting a beat and then laughing when Danneel directs Cat to jump off right at the exact perfect moment to attack Chad’s face for standing too near and looking up her skirts.

A mangled shriek comes from Lobster Boy and everyone claps in appreciation.

Jensen swears Cat actually bows as he sneaks off to where Mama Kim is filling his bowl with leftover stew meat.

Things have been good, better than good, since Jensen moved in with Jared in his apartment by the sea. The day after Jensen almost died was rough, between convincing Sheppard that he wasn’t still trying to infiltrate them and dealing with Morgan back at the paper.

Well, no. Dealing with Morgan had been glorious, especially the way his cigar dropped into his lap and nearly burned his bits when Jensen told him it was his turn to pipe down and listen to him for a change.

Quitting the paper was terrifying, admittedly, even though Jensen knows it was the right thing to do.

“What do you want to do?” Jared says to him a few days after his confrontation with Morgan. They are lying in Jared’s bed, cuddled up, smelling like each other.

“I want to tell stories. I want to tell your story.”

So, that’s what Jensen does. He packs up the picture of his mama and baby sister, his threadbare duffel of clothes, and his angry cat, and moves into his new life.

The sideshow people, the whole ragtag lot of them, welcome him with open arms. Jensen’s amazed at first, but he knows why they do it, knows they trust Jared to take care of them and show them the way. Just as he continues to show Jensen every single day.

Slowly but surely, he sits down with all of them.

Learns how Misha and Genevieve clung to each other when the state came to separate them after their parents died.

Learns how Alaina and Shep really did pick a corn-haired and malnourished toddler named Chad out of the dumpster.

Learns what real pain is when Julian the Statue Man tells him how it feels to never really feel.

Jensen writes it all down in his little notepad and knows just how important the words are. One day they will form together and become a history of an extraordinary group of people who became the family that Jensen never knew he needed.

The words are theirs. Jensen only hopes that he can capture the magic in them.