The Attic Room 1/2 (J2, AU, PG-13)
Dec. 24th, 2013 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eisht.
Merry Christmas or Season's Greetings or happy whatever you do this time of year, to my readers and wonderful f-list. This is a little something for you.
Title: The Attic Room
Rating: Teen and Up
Pairing/Characters: J2.
Description: J2 AU. Crack. Dragon!Jared, Elf!Genevieve, Nurse!Jensen.
Jensen was concentrating on his career, which is probably why he found himself almost homeless just before Christmas. Luckily (?) he found a room in Misha and Chad's house. It wasn't the attic room that was advertised, and in fact, he began to think there was something altogether mysterious about the attic room, and evasive about his housemates. Nothing could have prepared him for what he actually discovered there; A dragon, an egg, and maybe love.
Length: ~14,350 words
Warnings: some swear words, sexual concepts, sexual behavior, M.egg-preg, absentee father, sickening quantity of Christmas sparkle and schmoop, oh and Chad Michael-Murray. Unbetaed
Disclaimer: This is fiction, pure fantasy folks. Nobody here belongs to me and they’re not likely to get in my van for candy any time soon.
A/N: This is a little Christmas present for my readers, and especially my partners in crime in the Triumverate of Evil. I couldn't have got through this year without you. It will be posted in two parts (or three if LJ is being mean) over Christmas Eve to Boxing Day. It is loosely inspired by my teenage love for the book, The L-Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks, and before that, my love as a small child for Puff the Magic Dragon. (Don't look at me like that - they totally go together) I hang my head in shame at the lack of porn. My muse was oddly child friendly, which is probably best since much of it was written in the school holidays with nosy teenagers looking over my shoulder.
Now, New Year’s Eve
In the corner of the room was a small tree with fairy lights. It lit the grim corners of a sparsely furnished room, and gold and silver baubles hung from almost-bare branches. Tinsel cascaded generously over the dry twigs.
A fire blazed in the hearth, and Jensen could feel drops of perspiration form and run from his brow. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and smiled. Somewhere in the distance a crowd counted down,
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, *cheering*.
He folded a soft fleece blanket and tucked it around a baby which snuffled sleepily in a big, old, pine cot.
He sensed Jared behind him, and thought he caught the faint rustle of wings.
“New Year. You should be out there, with your friends, Jensen.”
“I’d rather be here, with you, and with her.” Jensen nodded at the infant struggling to keep her sea-green eyes open.
A whizz and pop sounded in the distance.
“Oh! Fireworks! Is that fireworks? Come to the ledge! I won’t let you fall.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and pulled him out of an unlatched attic window.
Jensen smiled at his enthusiasm.
The air was still, with a sharp bite of frost to nip at the nose and chill the lungs. Jensen shivered but then Jared was next to him, warm as an industrial heater, and he didn’t want to go back inside.
Colors exploded in the night sky, showering sparkling patterns to the noise of canons and pops and fizzes. He stood an inch from the edge of the roof, with eyes only for the expression of wonder on Jared’s face and the reflections that made the hazel and gold eyes gleam.
An unexpected boom made Jensen startle and teeter on the old wooden platform, and then there were wings surrounding him, safe, warm with life, and gleaming with a dancing echo of carnival colors. Sharp talons on scaly fingers grasped his shoulders with utmost delicacy, but it was still Jared’s face that looked down at him with concern, his mop of shiny brown hair, covering one eye, and making the other blink.
Jensen didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as cute or as sexy, and he did what he’d wanted to do, ever since he had taken his first, fleeting glance at Jared. Three stories above the street, on a ledge outside a grimy attic window, he reached a hand to cup Jared’s chin, kissed the side of Jared’s wide, generous mouth, felt the heat of it, and the surprising softness of his lips. He licked tentatively at the curve of them, and Jared held him in the cocoon of his wings, pressed flesh and muscle and mouth against him, and kissed him back.
***
“I can’t believe you’re putting me out on the street, two weeks before Christmas,” Jensen grumbled at Steve.
Christian clapped his back, “Buddy, you’ve had plenty of time. We have a band, we have a contract and we have given notice for this apartment. We will be partying in California on Christmas Day. You could be with us. Hot dudes, songs and surf, man – but no! You prefer pregnant ladies and baby vomit.”
“I’m sure there’s a law against it.”
“Well, dude. If you were an actual bed-owning tenant, then you could apply to take over the tenancy, but since you are a couch surfing squatter, we told you to get your ass into gear and find new digs weeks ago. Besides, it’s not healthy. You need your own man-pad and some action. We wouldn’t be good buddies if we didn’t encourage it.”
“I’m busy,” snapped Jensen, “And I could get some action, if I wanted. I’m concentrating on my career.” He folded his arms and glared at his friends. “Which reminds me; I’m late.”
Christian grabbed a set of keys and shrugged on a jacket as Jensen wound a scarf around his neck. “Here, we’ll take the truck. It will give you time to look at the rentals in the local rag.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, “Unless you were planning to get some action on the bus.”
Jensen slammed the passenger door of Chris’s truck and fastened his belt as Chris launched the newspaper at him. “Here. I’m sure there’s a ‘personals’ column too.”
Jensen rolled the paper and playfully swatted Chris with it. “Not everyone wants a hook-up. Maybe I’m looking for something meaningful. Someone intelligent, who makes me smile, something that’s going to last. Maybe I'm going to wait until I'm established in my career, like a sensible person should."
Chris rolled his eyes. A horn blasted as he cut expertly, into the smallest gap in the fast lane of traffic. “You’re not going to find anyone on the maternity ward, Jen., but maybe you’ll meet some hot, intelligent, meaningful guy in a new apartment building."
Jensen snorted and battled to find the ‘to let' section and fold the paper to a reasonable size to read. The journey was spent in a relative silence except for brief outbursts by Chris, about the stupidity of other drivers, and various bad-tempered hmphs from Jensen as he crossed through ads.
By the time Jensen reached St. Barnabas Hospital, he had crossed through nearly every ad, with a grand total of two being at a reasonable distance from the hospital and within his price range.
“Don’t wait up,” he yelled, as Chris sped away.
He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and made his way to the nurses’ locker room to change into his blue puppy-print scrubs before making his way to check in with the ward-sister.
On the way, Mrs. Watkins smiled and raised a hand to wave at him from her bed and he paused to greet her.
“You’re still here!” he exclaimed cheerily.
Mrs. Watkins rubbed her large baby bump, “I told baby she had to wait until my favorite nurse was on duty, and she listens to her mom already.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Jensen grinned. He enjoyed most things about nursing on a busy maternity ward, but introducing the newborns to mum was probably the best part.
Jensen continued to the nurse station, and his mind focused on names and faces, due dates, medical conditions and procedures.
The fact that it was an evening shift made it no less busy. Two ladies were in the late stages of labor, and one father fainted. Mrs. Watkins’ blood sugar levels stabilized and Jensen spent his meal break comforting a distraught teen-mum whose parents had chosen to disown her rather than support her. House-hunting would have to wait.
December 5th
The sun was coming up, when Jensen crept in from work, took off his shoes and stepped over packing crates to reach the kitchen. He had just grasped a beer from the fridge when he was startled by someone clearing their throat behind him.
“You’re late again,” Steve commented, “And that’s my beer.”
Jensen clutched the beer protectively, “You wouldn’t want to drink first thing in the morning. I’m saving you from yourself.”
“I’m glad you’re such a friend,” Steve told him sarcastically, then added, “So, how’s the house-hunting going?”
Jensen flipped the lid off the beer and took a swig. He tried to look cool and nonchalant but it fizzed and dripped over his top. “Damn!”
Steve raised an eyebrow and waited for Jensen to answer his question. Jensen knew the look.
“Mrs. Watkins had a baby girl - nine pounds, nine ounces and bouncing. She’s got this mass of brown hair already, and wow, loud! I mean, I couldn’t come home until they were settled, could I?”
Steve crossed his arms and blocked the kitchen door. Jensen tried to duck under his arm, but Steve stopped him.
“And does Mrs. Watkins have a room for you to stay, Jensen?”
“It’s fine. It’s cool. I got it,” reassured Jensen, while inside his stomach knotted with worry.
“So, you found somewhere?”
“Not exactly. See, it’s Christmas, and there’s references and deposits and stuff, and well … no, but it’s okay, I’ll crash on Mom and Dad for a while. It’s a bit of a trek every day, but it’s only for now, and there’s the on-duty accommodation at the hospital for Christmas Day … and …,”
“Take a breath!”
“Right.” Jensen drew a huge gulp of air into his lungs and breathed out slow. “Right. You should get coffee before packing. I can help,” he offered.
“Go to sleep, Jen. You look wrecked,” Steve insisted, and pointed his finger at the couch. Jensen noted the covers and pillow, set out ready for him. He was going to miss his friends.
December 7th
It was still early. Mrs. Watkins was dressing baby Sera, ready to go home, labor was progressing nicely for Jensen’s latest ladies, and the ward was quiet, which gave him the opportunity to remember what he should have done, days ago.
“Mom! Hi.”
Jensen held the cell away from his ear until the barrage of ‘Why haven’t you answered our calls?’ melted into coos and ‘It’s lovely to hear from you’ and then he made appropriate non-committal answers to her questions about work, babies and the possibility of a boyfriend.
“So. Christmas…” Jensen managed to edge in eventually,
“Oh, isn’t it exciting dear! Paris! I didn’t think your daddy had it in him! I’m trying to decide what to pack. Do you think my blue sequin number would be too much? Mutton dressed as lamb? Mm. Maybe. For Christmas dinner at the restaurant I thought I would wear my little black dress, and the satin stilettos we bought last April. I never get anywhere to wear them here. I can dress it all up with some jewelry.”
“Paris?” Jensen was lost.
His mother continued, “I have cleaners coming tomorrow, and we’ve put all our documents in the safe. I don’t want the family we’re swapping with to think we’re unclean. Their apartment looks immaculate and it has a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower.”
“House swap?” Jensen asked. He licked his lips nervously, remembering his last conversation with his father, which he had only half listened to. Chris and Steve had been practising their newest song rather loudly at the time.
“Josh and Anna are in Hawaii, you are working Christmas night and you'll be exhausted when you finally get a break over New Year. By next year we could be grandparents, and then we will want to be home. This might be the last year we get the chance at a romantic Christmas together.”
Jensen gulped and feigned enthusiasm, “It’s wonderful mom. I think you should take the blue sequin dress, I know daddy loves to see you in it. So… how much do you know about the family who will be holidaying in our house?”
“Oh it’s a proper agency, and there’s references and checks, Jen sweetheart. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Except being homeless at Christmas, Jensen thought, but he echoed his mother’s enthusiasm and reminded her to send a postcard and gave the address of the hospital on-call accommodation. “Of course, it’s all fine mom, I need to be close to work over Christmas, lots of the staff do,” he lied expertly.
Jensen apologized to Mrs Watkins and asked her to wait a few minutes before she was discharged, and then begged Rachel to cover his absence from the ward. There was a sudden urgency to find Katie, the hospital’s Accommodation Manager.
***
“Please, anything, broom cupboard, basement. I don’t care.”
Katie patted his shoulder sympathetically, and slurped her coffee. He had caught up with her, taking a break in the restaurant.
“Jensen, if I had anything, you could have it, but you know what it’s like over Christmas season. The doctors get first priority, and a third of the accommodation block is closed for essential repairs. I can’t even fit Harry Potter in. There must be a colleague, or somebody. Have you checked the local paper?”
This was not good, Jensen reflected, as he hurried back to the ward. Brisk steps caught up with him, and he startled as he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to face a sturdy young man with a weary face.
“Jensen, isn’t it?” The man stuck a hand out to shake his, and Jensen took it and shook it warmly, as recognition dawned.
“I’m the other Watkins, he said, in explanation. You picked me up when I fainted, when my wife…,”
“Of course I remember. Are you excited to be taking Sera home?”
“Huh, yes, nervous too, but I couldn’t help overhearing you, in the restaurant.”
“Oh.” Jensen said, “Oh!” he said again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” He laughed it off.
“It’s just that there’s a place near us, near where I walk the dog. I don’t think they’re very fussy, and they’ve been advertising in their window, an attic room for rent. It’s a nice view across the park, and it might do, for a while.”
“Really?” Jensen asked cautiously. He didn’t want to seem desperate. He let Mr. Watkins write the address down for him, and after he had waved the little family goodbye, he straightened the crumpled paper out and studied it. The area was close enough to St. Barnabas, but Mr. Watkins had to have the cost wrong. It was much less expensive then all the other rooms he had enquired after.
December 8th
Jensen studied the house in Holly Lane, before he walked to the door. It was in an old area of town and the exterior hadn’t seen a coat of paint in a while. The lawn was unruly within a faded picket fence, and on the stoop, an empty beer can rolled in the breeze. Still, Jensen had to admit, that it was in a good location, on the edge of the park, by woodland.
He glanced upward to the little window in the roof, where there was a rickety wooden platform that jutted over red clay tiles. He wondered at its purpose, but his muse was interrupted by a glimpse of a tall young man at the window with … No! That couldn’t be right…
Jensen blinked, and looked again. There was nothing there. He sighed and continued to the door. He checked the bundle of money in his pocket. He was prepared to play dirty if he had to.
The doorbell didn’t work, and his knock echoed. Eventually he heard steps and ‘shit, shit, Misha put on your fucking pants dude’ before the door was opened by an ordinary looking young man with spiked blond hair and blue eyes. He looked at Jensen and then past him, in confusion.
“If this is about your greenhouse panel, it wasn’t us. Kids in the street, y’know how it is.”
Jensen shook his head and opened his mouth to speak.
“Oh, fuck, man. Stephen ain’t here, so if it’s about your…” the man squinted at him, “wife…sister, then dude, you’ll have to get in line. No forwarding address, y’know what I mean.”
“I came about the room,” Jensen managed to interrupt in the end.
“What room?” The young man looked confused.
Jensen pointed at a tatty handwritten sign in the window, “The attic room,” he clarified. He took out a wad of cash and showed it to the man. “I can pay double for the first month, to move in right away.”
“Oh, that. It’s taken.”
Jensen’s shoulders fell in disappointment.
“Raccoons,” another voice butted in. An older man with short black hair and blue eyes wandered to the door with his pants in his hand, while his faded boxers declared him to be a ‘love machine’. He stuck out his hand to shake Jensen’s. “Raccoons in the attic. Noisy. But we wouldn’t want them to get, er cold, so, that room, er, taken. You can have the other one though.”
“Other one?” The blond man hissed at the dark haired man.
“You know – the one below it, no forwarding address.”
There seemed to be a silent conversation between the two men and then the blond smiled like a barracuda, “Yes! We have a room that’s recently vacated, if you’re interested.”
“Yes!” Jensen replied without thought, even if he wasn’t sure why he was even considering it. There was something extremely strange about this household and its partly pantless residents.
“Oh, good. Party-time!” exclaimed the blond man, enthusiastically, “Here, come in.” he waved Jensen in.
The dark haired man had finally donned his trousers and was smoothing his hair into place. “I’m Misha,” he introduced himself, “And that douche is Chad.”
“Jensen.” Jensen nodded.
“So, Jensen. In trouble with the law? Mob problems?”
“No!” Jensen was horrified at the suggestion, “Why? Have you?”
“No, man. We might be messy but we are all about the peace and love. Live and let live, and make sure you hide the blow where Chad can’t steal it.”
The kitchen was cleaner than Jensen had imagined, and the shared living space was cluttered, but at least the empty beer cans had been tastefully arranged into a surprisingly artful Christmas Tree. There were a few dubious stains on the carpet, but it was no worse than student digs he had lived in. He breathed out. It wasn’t so bad.
The stairs creaked as he climbed them, and somewhere in the house something banged. The heating appeared to be malfunctioning, because the temperature upstairs was stifling. Well, at least he would be cozy.
Chad opened a door onto a room strewn with clothes, festering mugs of liquid, and unidentifiable objects. He slammed the door closed quickly. In the glance Jensen had been allowed, it seemed large and airy, and Jensen had to admit that the view, the same as the attic room, was astounding.
“He left in a hurry. We’ll get it cleared out by the time you get here.” Chad rushed to explain.
Behind them, there was the sound of a door slamming and they both looked around, but nobody was there.
“Is that Misha’s room or yours?” Jensen pointed to the door opposite the room he had been shown. He put his hand on the door knob and Chad intervened, a little too quickly. “It’s only the attic stairs. No need to worry about it.”
“Oh,” Jensen turned the knob, but the door was locked. He looked around again for the person who must have closed the door but there was nobody. Maybe he imagined it.
“You’ll find it sometimes sounds like there’s somebody up there – but you know raccoons,” Chad said, and his eyes seemed overly wide and innocent, “The room is yours if you want it.”
“Do you want to check my references?” Jensen proffered a note from Katie.
Chad seemed surprised, “Dude, you’re a nurse? Well why didn’t you say? Always handy to have a medical man in the house.”
“I work evenings and nights. Will that be a problem?”
“Nah. We’re easy. I’ll get you a key. When do you want to move in?”
“Tomorrow?” Jensen asked, determined not to let the opportunity of a warm room slide, even if it was in a household of very strange strangers. “I can ring animal control if you like, get those raccoons moved on,” he offered, helpfully.
“No! No!” Chad was jumpy. “It’s cold outside. They’re a bit like family. Don’t worry. You won’t see them, hardly hear them.”
“Right. Okay.”
Jensen shrugged off his misgivings, in favor of not sleeping on the streets, and got into a discussion about paying Chad only when he had moved in.
December 9th
Jensen arrived at the house in Holly Lane in time to find Misha tossing the last of the old occupier’s clothes into black bin bags. Chad greeted Jensen like an old friend, with beer and pants in his hand. Luckily they appeared to be someone else’s pants and Chad was fully clothed.
Jensen didn’t have a lot. He set down a crate of assorted DVDs and CDs, another with his old music player and a stack of books, then wheeled in a large case of clothes and bedding. His parents and friends had nagged him to settle down throughout his nurse training and now he had qualified and had a permanent job, the hints only intensified. Jensen didn’t see the hurry. His career consumed most of his time and he had no ties. All he needed was a place to sleep.
The room scrubbed up well. Misha vacuumed the rugs and Jensen joined in wiping the windows while Chad skated around in bare feet on damp cloths soaked in disinfectant, to clean the shiny wooden floor. By the time they were finished, it felt like they were old friends. It dulled the ache of seeing Chris and Steve pack up and leave for their new life. He reminded himself that they weren’t gone forever, but even so, California seemed a long way.
Two games of Mario Brothers, on Chad’s Playstation, and an introduction to his own NURSE-BOY labeled shelf, in the refrigerator later, and Jensen knew about the fungus on Misha’s toenail and the time that Chad was arrested for streaking at a baseball game. If he was distracted for a moment by the creak of the floorboards above them, or a strange shadow blocking the light at the window, he didn’t notice.
December 10th
Jensen finished his shift at six a.m. and it was still dark when he nestled gratefully into his bed. The mattress was surprisingly springy and comfortable, but Jensen kicked off all the covers and he still couldn’t sleep. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and he swore. He got up and paced the room, found the heater control and turned it off. He took a moment to peer out of the window. Winter frost twinkled in the reflection of street lamps, on the trees that lined the park beyond. It was peaceful, and he breathed deep and stretched. Things were working out just fine.
A thump and clatter from above had him diving for cover, and a chunk of wood whirled through the air past his window. When the noise ceased, he cautiously unlatched the window and peered up. The roof above him looked undamaged but he resolved to mention the incident to Chad. His raccoons might be causing structural damage.
He looked down to the lawn below, searching for the offending missile but instead met the cheery wave of a tall, dark haired, and, from what he could see in the dim light, young and very attractive stranger. He waved back and watched him walk at a brisk pace, towards the park.
Jensen thought it was a good day for an early morning walk and maybe he would do the same tomorrow, if it remained dry. Sleepy as he was, it didn’t occur to him to question why the stranger wore no coat.
December 16th
Jensen buttered his toast and reached into the cupboard to retrieve his Nutella. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the jar.
“Oh! C’mon guys!”
“What?” Chad asked, defensively.
“Someone’s had a spoon in this.”
“I have not!” Chad retorted. “I have my own jar.”
“I don’t eat chocolate. Bad for the chakra.” Misha spoke serenely.
“Well, there’s only the three of us here.” Jensen huffed.
Chad shifted uneasily on his chair and a peculiar look passed between him and Misha.
“How would you like it if I drank your beer?” Jensen continued.
“You’d never sleep sweetly again,” Chad threatened.
“And that’s another thing, dude. Seriously, are you sure about those raccoons? Because they are heavy-footed, and I swear they were dragging something around yesterday. Do you want me to check?”
“No!” chorused Misha and Chad simultaneously.
“I’ll go see them,” Chad nodded.
“You’re weird, you know that?” Jensen teased.
December 18th
Jensen’s mother smoothed the eiderdown on Jensen’s bed. “It’s a lovely little room, and Misha seems nice.”
“But you will be looking for a place of your own, next year?” Jensen’s Pa asked gruffly.
“Well, I hadn’t any plans…”
“We were settled down, with Josh on the way, at your age.”
“I want to concentrate on my career.”
His Pa snorted and Jensen knew he was about to mention that being a doctor like Josh was a real career, not wiping noses and changing nappies. His mother rescued the situation.
“We brought you a little something, to make you feel Christmassy. Pa will fetch it from the car.”
His father’s attitude softened. “Sorry to leave you abandoned like this, but your Mom deserves this treat. She’s been our Christmas star every year.”
“I know. I want you to have a great time. Chad and Misha are alright, and I’m working anyway.”
The small potted tree that his father carried up the stairs made him smile, and they exchanged presents to open on Christmas day. Just before they hugged their farewells, Jensen’s mom excused herself to go to the bathroom. She returned with a huge grin on her face.
“I met your Chad. No wonder you’re keen to stay.” She winked at him.
Jensen frowned in confusion, Chad was at work and Misha was downstairs.
“Tall, with dark hair – the sort you want to ruffle, and you could lose yourself in those eyes. He seems a polite young man too, but very shy. He fairly rushed away.” She “mm-hmmed” suggestively and Jensen wanted to ask her more, but his parents had a flight to catch, and his Pa was already at the door.
After they were gone, Jensen searched every room, but only found Misha, melting wax for candles, on the kitchen stove. “Where’s your friend?” he asked.
“Dude?”
“The guy, upstairs. Tall, with dark hair.”
Misha blinked at him before replying, rather too quickly, “Oh, him! He went home.”
“My mother liked him.”
Misha chuckled, “She would.”
“You could have introduced us.”
“He’s shy.”
“What’s his name?”
Misha hesitated. He was definitely looking shifty. “Um. Ja – Jack,” he answered, and turned away from Jensen. “I have to make sure the wax sets just right,” he said, ending the conversation.
Before retreating to his own room, Jensen checked the attic door. The handle shook but it was locked. He pressed his ear against it, not sure what he thought he might hear, and the wood was abnormally warm. It reminded him that he had never turned the heater in his room back on, and yet the temperature remained constantly warm.
In the last few weeks there had been times when he turned around, sure that he was being watched, and other times when he swore that the footsteps in the attic sounded human, rather than animal. There was something about the house that didn’t seem quite right. For the first time in his life Jensen wondered if he believed in ghosts.
December 20th
Jensen’s shift had been intense. One false alarm, an emergency caesarean, and a ventouse delivery saw Jensen leaving St. Barnabas under the weak colors of a frosty dawn. The weather was crisp and clear, and Jensen wound his scarf tight and decided to walk across the park.
There was barely a creature stirring in the hedgerows and trees, but as he got close to Holly Lane a robin hopped from branch to branch, with its head tipped curiously at him. Jensen reached into his bag for the remains of his lunch and broke a little bread for the bird which flew down to peck at it, just a few yards away.
His concentration on the robin had to explain why he bumped into someone, who had apparently appeared from nowhere, in front of him.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
Something gold bounced and rolled across the frozen path. The young man in front of him brushed himself down and blushed. “I didn’t mean to…,”
“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” apologized Jensen, “Is that a bauble?” he asked, distracted by the shine.
“Bauble?”
Jensen didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone turn such a vivid pink in embarrassment, and the young man looked both adorable and very young. He wanted to kick himself for never walking home before, because the guy moving uneasily from foot to foot next to him, was the same one he saw on his first morning, from his window. Close up he was even more attractive.
“Christmas tree decoration. Is it yours?” Jensen picked it up and offered it helpfully.
“N-n-n-no. No idea. Never seen it. Very pretty. Maybe I should…” The young man’s eyes seemed to glow more green as he looked at the trinket and he hastily pocketed it in his thin hoodie.
“Are you bruised? Did you bump your head? You must be cold like that. You should come in for coffee. I live just over there. I’ve got arnica… and coffee,” Jensen decided that he needed to work on his pick-up technique. The guy was hot and he was failing. “Hi, I’m Jensen,” he added lamely, sticking out his hand in greeting.
“Um, Jared,” the young guy replied, picking out leaves and twigs that were tangled in his hair and hood, and Jensen had to wonder how they got there. “Sorry. I really have to go.”
“It’s no trouble,” insisted Jensen.
“I’m meant to be baby-sitting. Can’t be late. Don’t want to miss...well, anything.”
Jensen tried not to swoon, because – baby sitting. “Right. Okay.”
Jared was remarkably fast. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground.
“Will you be here again? Maybe we could get coffee next time,” Jensen called after him.
Jared looked back, and there was a sadness about him, “I’m no good for anybody.”
Then he vanished, and Jensen couldn’t say where to, or which way he had left. It was more than strange.
December 21st
“Very funny, guys. Give me back my tree decorations!”
Chad scratched his head. “The only tree I recognize is my beer-tree of awesomeness.”
“I have a nature altar,” remarked Misha, “Sparkly things don’t go with it.”
“Well someone has taken them, and it’s not funny!”
“Are you sure you haven’t mislaid them?”
Jensen could feel himself pouting. “Put them back, before I get home!”
“Dude! Not us!” Chad denied, open armed.
Jensen stamped out of the door.
“The drugs?” Jensen asked Sister Ferris. “There was nothing unusual about the drugs round last night.”
“We’ve taken blood tests,” Sister Ferris spoke sternly.
“There was nothing unusual and we didn’t make any mistakes,” protested Jensen.
“Then please tell me how two pregnant ladies and one junior nurse managed to report a young man flying through a third floor window, to steal cot blankets and nappies, and then stop to take tinsel from the ward Christmas Tree?”
“Oh.”
“Precisely,” snapped Ferris.
“Have they gone?” asked Jensen.
“What? The drugs, the flying man, or the ladies?” Ferris’s eyes were dangerously narrowed.
“The blankets and tinsel?”
“Of course they aren’t,” roared Ferris, “Nobody flies through third floor windows.”
“Em, excuse me?” Nurse Miner raised her hand timidly, “Actually the tinsel has gone from the tree and we counted the blankets and…,”
“Get out of here! You are all suspended until tests are complete!”
“That’s not…,”
Ferris snapped her fingers into ‘a rough approximation of ‘shut up’ and the word “fair” died on Jensen’s lips.
He trudged back home and arrived in Holly Lane just after ten p.m. The house lights were off, because Chad and Misha had gone to a party. Jensen intended to sulk in front of a late night movie with a carton of Ben and Jerry’s.
Except… Oh shit, something bright flickered beyond the open attic window. Light, or fire? If it was fire, it didn’t seem out of control, at least, not yet.
Jensen started to run. He palmed his cell phone but it was out of battery charge. He swore and ran faster, through the door, grabbed the fire-blanket from the kitchen and pounded up the stairs. He yanked the attic door, prepared to break it down, but it opened easily, and slammed after him. On the third attic stair he almost tripped as he stepped on something that rolled and then cracked into pieces. He looked down at a smashed Christmas tree bauble, but didn’t have time to wonder about it.
He stopped on the top stair, open mouthed and mystified.
A cold breeze blew in from the attic window which was ajar, but he could barely feel it. The room was hot, like tropical. A huge log fire roared in an open grate. The gas heater control was pointing to high and little electric heaters whirred frantically. A hard chair stood in the middle of the room and a plain single bed was neatly made. On a table in the corner, was an old-fashioned wash basin and ewer, and beside it a pile of neatly folded linen – a towel, several baby blankets, and a stack of nappies.
Jensen wasn’t sure if the most surprising discovery in the room was the mountain of Christmas decorations which overflowed and rolled over the floor, leaving a trail of fairy-like dust, or the large, golden, glowing, egg, that nestled unharmed in the center of the flames in the hearth.
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them again everything was still there. He swallowed hard and tried to make sense of it all.
December 22nd
Being a sleuth sucked. Hiding in a closet was a lot harder than it looked in the movies.
At least Jensen didn’t have to wait long. A dull thud and creak on the roof platform announced the arrival of whatever was living in the attic room. He held his breath. Then let it go again. Damn fool sleuth should try not to faint. He breathed quietly, but it quickened as he saw what landed there. Translucent gold-green wings stretched majestically and fluttered, as if shaking damp from the delicate membrane. They curled in half and folded protectively around a tall young man, wearing only light sweat pants. He had gold-green eyes, and he shimmered in moonlight as he stepped into the room, carrying a sturdy cardboard box. The shimmer faded, wings neatly folded flat to the man’s back as he closed the window and put the box down. He grabbed a thin hoodie from the chair and pulled it on, over a broad chest and well defined abs, and now Jensen could see him properly – Jared.
Dressed, he looked like any ordinary young man. He took a cheap golden ornament from his pocket and turned it in his hand, admiring it, before placing it on his stash of decorations, then pulled half a chocolate bar from his other pocket and bit into it, like he was starving.
When he had swallowed the last of the chocolate, Jared knelt by the fire in the grate. The glow of the flames reflected on his face, and in that light his eyes were soft and hazel and sad. “We’re gonna be okay little one, you’ll see. I got you a bed, and there are blankets.” He reached to the table, took a blanket and folded it into the box. He continued talking and Jensen couldn’t hear it all but he recognized mother’s baby-speak. He spied on Jared, so fascinated that he forgot to be scared, until Jared casually reached his hand into the fire to stroke the egg.
“No!” Jensen shouted in shock, and tumbled from the closet ready to grab Jared’s arm and treat his burns, and just in time to see Jared blow a jet of white-hot fire into the hearth, from his mouth.
It was unclear who was the most shocked. Jared grabbed his egg from the fire and curled around it protectively. He changed in an instant. Sharp talons scraped the floor, a green scaled tail thumped furiously against the wall, wings extended and curled around him, and he hissed.
Jensen fell back on his ass and his mouth opened and closed. What he wanted to say was, ‘You’re a dragon’, but the only sound he was making sounded like “Aagh!”
They stayed there, for what seemed like an age, in some peculiar stand-off, before Jensen finally got to his knees. If he was honest, the dragon, Jared, happened to be startlingly beautiful, in a shiny green, gothic way, if a little too large to be backed against the attic room wall, swishing his tail.
“Wow! So I guess dragons are real,” was Jensen’s eventual ice-breaker.
Jared-dragon huffed and snarled.
Jensen thought he looked frightened.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I thought you were going to burn yourself.”
Jared dragon narrowed his eyes and looked at the closet. “It doesn’t explain why you were in my closet, spying on me.”
“Dragons talk,” muttered Jensen, as if it made as much sense as dragons existing. Then, “You stole my Christmas Tree decorations,” and added as an afterthought, “and my Nutella.”
“We’re not stupid,” spat Jared dragon, with a faint wisp of fire, “And I will roast you until you’re crispy if you try to take my egg. He tilted his head, and added feistily, “I think I will roast you anyway.” He puffed an impressive blue flare, neatly into the hearth.
Jensen hastily scrabbled back from the fire, watching Jared carefully. He didn’t want to be toasted, but he wasn’t sure that Jared could follow through on his threat, after all, Jared hadn’t toasted Chad, and Chad was the most annoying person Jensen knew.
“Can you do that in any color?” he asked.
“What?” hissed the dragon, “Why?”
“It’s beautiful, like fireworks.”
“What are fireworks?” The dragon asked. He took a step toward Jensen, eager for the answer.
“Pretty explosions in the night sky, they glitter…,” Jensen looked at the stack of ornaments in the corner for inspiration, “…like gold. They’re beautiful, and there are lots on New Year’s Eve. I could show you.”
“There are?”
“Yes,” Jensen nodded enthusiastically.
“I can cook you in cerise…” Jared blew bright pink flame into the fire, “Or even silver,” the next flame gleamed like stars, and Jared oh-so-carefully and gently placed his egg back in the midst of it, “You can choose.” Jared drew himself up. He was almost as large as the room, and his scaled feet and claws spanned Jensen, jamming him into a small space by the bed.
“You’re not going to cook me,” Jensen spoke quickly, with only a slight shake in his words.
“I’m not?” The dragon sounded surprised. He bent his neck gracefully to snuffle his green and surprisingly velvety muzzle against Jensen’s bare neck. Breath puffed hot, but not unbearable over Jensen’s sensitive skin.
“No. You haven’t cooked Chad, so you won’t cook me.”
“You smell nicer than Chad.” Jared snuffled at Jensen again, took a good long sniff and closed his eyes.
Jensen didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He continued, soft and reassuring, “You’re young and alone and you’re about to become a parent. You’re hiding in an attic, stealing food. I don’t know how dragon families work, but I don’t see anyone here defending you, or supporting you. You’re frightened, and I can help you. You’ve watched me. You followed me to the hospital, and you took those blankets and nappies, after my shift ended.”
Jared sat back on his tail, he suddenly looked much smaller. He roared angrily, and a rainbow of bright steam drifted into the room, but Jensen saw the tears that gleamed in his eye.
“You can do this, Jared. You’ll be a great daddy – mom… I can help you. You don’t have to be alone.” He reached to the soft muzzle and stroked it. “Please, let me help you.”
Jensen was surprised to find that he meant it. He was sure he was right in his assessment of Jared’s situation, and he was having a hard time being frightened or angry with Jared, who, for all his threats, hadn’t even singed the décor with his flames.
Little clouds of steam puffed from Jared, and Jensen thought he saw him hiccup. He continued to stroke Jared’s muzzle, extended his touch to tentatively smooth the shimmering scales of his neck. They were warm and smooth and Jensen wanted to lean into them and hug the dragon.
Jensen couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he found his arms full of a tall young man who clasped his arms around him and buried his face into his neck, but it felt good and smelled of wood-smoke and cranberries. He hugged him back.
When Jared’s sniffing subsided, Jensen patted his knee, “When are you expecting? Do you want to tell me about it?”
Jared didn’t let go of Jensen, and he began to talk.
Part 2
Merry Christmas or Season's Greetings or happy whatever you do this time of year, to my readers and wonderful f-list. This is a little something for you.
Title: The Attic Room
Rating: Teen and Up
Pairing/Characters: J2.
Description: J2 AU. Crack. Dragon!Jared, Elf!Genevieve, Nurse!Jensen.
Jensen was concentrating on his career, which is probably why he found himself almost homeless just before Christmas. Luckily (?) he found a room in Misha and Chad's house. It wasn't the attic room that was advertised, and in fact, he began to think there was something altogether mysterious about the attic room, and evasive about his housemates. Nothing could have prepared him for what he actually discovered there; A dragon, an egg, and maybe love.
Length: ~14,350 words
Warnings: some swear words, sexual concepts, sexual behavior, M.egg-preg, absentee father, sickening quantity of Christmas sparkle and schmoop, oh and Chad Michael-Murray. Unbetaed
Disclaimer: This is fiction, pure fantasy folks. Nobody here belongs to me and they’re not likely to get in my van for candy any time soon.
A/N: This is a little Christmas present for my readers, and especially my partners in crime in the Triumverate of Evil. I couldn't have got through this year without you. It will be posted in two parts (or three if LJ is being mean) over Christmas Eve to Boxing Day. It is loosely inspired by my teenage love for the book, The L-Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks, and before that, my love as a small child for Puff the Magic Dragon. (Don't look at me like that - they totally go together) I hang my head in shame at the lack of porn. My muse was oddly child friendly, which is probably best since much of it was written in the school holidays with nosy teenagers looking over my shoulder.
***
Now, New Year’s Eve
In the corner of the room was a small tree with fairy lights. It lit the grim corners of a sparsely furnished room, and gold and silver baubles hung from almost-bare branches. Tinsel cascaded generously over the dry twigs.
A fire blazed in the hearth, and Jensen could feel drops of perspiration form and run from his brow. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and smiled. Somewhere in the distance a crowd counted down,
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, *cheering*.
He folded a soft fleece blanket and tucked it around a baby which snuffled sleepily in a big, old, pine cot.
He sensed Jared behind him, and thought he caught the faint rustle of wings.
“New Year. You should be out there, with your friends, Jensen.”
“I’d rather be here, with you, and with her.” Jensen nodded at the infant struggling to keep her sea-green eyes open.
A whizz and pop sounded in the distance.
“Oh! Fireworks! Is that fireworks? Come to the ledge! I won’t let you fall.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and pulled him out of an unlatched attic window.
Jensen smiled at his enthusiasm.
The air was still, with a sharp bite of frost to nip at the nose and chill the lungs. Jensen shivered but then Jared was next to him, warm as an industrial heater, and he didn’t want to go back inside.
Colors exploded in the night sky, showering sparkling patterns to the noise of canons and pops and fizzes. He stood an inch from the edge of the roof, with eyes only for the expression of wonder on Jared’s face and the reflections that made the hazel and gold eyes gleam.
An unexpected boom made Jensen startle and teeter on the old wooden platform, and then there were wings surrounding him, safe, warm with life, and gleaming with a dancing echo of carnival colors. Sharp talons on scaly fingers grasped his shoulders with utmost delicacy, but it was still Jared’s face that looked down at him with concern, his mop of shiny brown hair, covering one eye, and making the other blink.
Jensen didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as cute or as sexy, and he did what he’d wanted to do, ever since he had taken his first, fleeting glance at Jared. Three stories above the street, on a ledge outside a grimy attic window, he reached a hand to cup Jared’s chin, kissed the side of Jared’s wide, generous mouth, felt the heat of it, and the surprising softness of his lips. He licked tentatively at the curve of them, and Jared held him in the cocoon of his wings, pressed flesh and muscle and mouth against him, and kissed him back.
***
Then
November 25th“I can’t believe you’re putting me out on the street, two weeks before Christmas,” Jensen grumbled at Steve.
Christian clapped his back, “Buddy, you’ve had plenty of time. We have a band, we have a contract and we have given notice for this apartment. We will be partying in California on Christmas Day. You could be with us. Hot dudes, songs and surf, man – but no! You prefer pregnant ladies and baby vomit.”
“I’m sure there’s a law against it.”
“Well, dude. If you were an actual bed-owning tenant, then you could apply to take over the tenancy, but since you are a couch surfing squatter, we told you to get your ass into gear and find new digs weeks ago. Besides, it’s not healthy. You need your own man-pad and some action. We wouldn’t be good buddies if we didn’t encourage it.”
“I’m busy,” snapped Jensen, “And I could get some action, if I wanted. I’m concentrating on my career.” He folded his arms and glared at his friends. “Which reminds me; I’m late.”
Christian grabbed a set of keys and shrugged on a jacket as Jensen wound a scarf around his neck. “Here, we’ll take the truck. It will give you time to look at the rentals in the local rag.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, “Unless you were planning to get some action on the bus.”
Jensen slammed the passenger door of Chris’s truck and fastened his belt as Chris launched the newspaper at him. “Here. I’m sure there’s a ‘personals’ column too.”
Jensen rolled the paper and playfully swatted Chris with it. “Not everyone wants a hook-up. Maybe I’m looking for something meaningful. Someone intelligent, who makes me smile, something that’s going to last. Maybe I'm going to wait until I'm established in my career, like a sensible person should."
Chris rolled his eyes. A horn blasted as he cut expertly, into the smallest gap in the fast lane of traffic. “You’re not going to find anyone on the maternity ward, Jen., but maybe you’ll meet some hot, intelligent, meaningful guy in a new apartment building."
Jensen snorted and battled to find the ‘to let' section and fold the paper to a reasonable size to read. The journey was spent in a relative silence except for brief outbursts by Chris, about the stupidity of other drivers, and various bad-tempered hmphs from Jensen as he crossed through ads.
By the time Jensen reached St. Barnabas Hospital, he had crossed through nearly every ad, with a grand total of two being at a reasonable distance from the hospital and within his price range.
“Don’t wait up,” he yelled, as Chris sped away.
He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and made his way to the nurses’ locker room to change into his blue puppy-print scrubs before making his way to check in with the ward-sister.
On the way, Mrs. Watkins smiled and raised a hand to wave at him from her bed and he paused to greet her.
“You’re still here!” he exclaimed cheerily.
Mrs. Watkins rubbed her large baby bump, “I told baby she had to wait until my favorite nurse was on duty, and she listens to her mom already.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Jensen grinned. He enjoyed most things about nursing on a busy maternity ward, but introducing the newborns to mum was probably the best part.
Jensen continued to the nurse station, and his mind focused on names and faces, due dates, medical conditions and procedures.
The fact that it was an evening shift made it no less busy. Two ladies were in the late stages of labor, and one father fainted. Mrs. Watkins’ blood sugar levels stabilized and Jensen spent his meal break comforting a distraught teen-mum whose parents had chosen to disown her rather than support her. House-hunting would have to wait.
December 5th
The sun was coming up, when Jensen crept in from work, took off his shoes and stepped over packing crates to reach the kitchen. He had just grasped a beer from the fridge when he was startled by someone clearing their throat behind him.
“You’re late again,” Steve commented, “And that’s my beer.”
Jensen clutched the beer protectively, “You wouldn’t want to drink first thing in the morning. I’m saving you from yourself.”
“I’m glad you’re such a friend,” Steve told him sarcastically, then added, “So, how’s the house-hunting going?”
Jensen flipped the lid off the beer and took a swig. He tried to look cool and nonchalant but it fizzed and dripped over his top. “Damn!”
Steve raised an eyebrow and waited for Jensen to answer his question. Jensen knew the look.
“Mrs. Watkins had a baby girl - nine pounds, nine ounces and bouncing. She’s got this mass of brown hair already, and wow, loud! I mean, I couldn’t come home until they were settled, could I?”
Steve crossed his arms and blocked the kitchen door. Jensen tried to duck under his arm, but Steve stopped him.
“And does Mrs. Watkins have a room for you to stay, Jensen?”
“It’s fine. It’s cool. I got it,” reassured Jensen, while inside his stomach knotted with worry.
“So, you found somewhere?”
“Not exactly. See, it’s Christmas, and there’s references and deposits and stuff, and well … no, but it’s okay, I’ll crash on Mom and Dad for a while. It’s a bit of a trek every day, but it’s only for now, and there’s the on-duty accommodation at the hospital for Christmas Day … and …,”
“Take a breath!”
“Right.” Jensen drew a huge gulp of air into his lungs and breathed out slow. “Right. You should get coffee before packing. I can help,” he offered.
“Go to sleep, Jen. You look wrecked,” Steve insisted, and pointed his finger at the couch. Jensen noted the covers and pillow, set out ready for him. He was going to miss his friends.
December 7th
It was still early. Mrs. Watkins was dressing baby Sera, ready to go home, labor was progressing nicely for Jensen’s latest ladies, and the ward was quiet, which gave him the opportunity to remember what he should have done, days ago.
“Mom! Hi.”
Jensen held the cell away from his ear until the barrage of ‘Why haven’t you answered our calls?’ melted into coos and ‘It’s lovely to hear from you’ and then he made appropriate non-committal answers to her questions about work, babies and the possibility of a boyfriend.
“So. Christmas…” Jensen managed to edge in eventually,
“Oh, isn’t it exciting dear! Paris! I didn’t think your daddy had it in him! I’m trying to decide what to pack. Do you think my blue sequin number would be too much? Mutton dressed as lamb? Mm. Maybe. For Christmas dinner at the restaurant I thought I would wear my little black dress, and the satin stilettos we bought last April. I never get anywhere to wear them here. I can dress it all up with some jewelry.”
“Paris?” Jensen was lost.
His mother continued, “I have cleaners coming tomorrow, and we’ve put all our documents in the safe. I don’t want the family we’re swapping with to think we’re unclean. Their apartment looks immaculate and it has a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower.”
“House swap?” Jensen asked. He licked his lips nervously, remembering his last conversation with his father, which he had only half listened to. Chris and Steve had been practising their newest song rather loudly at the time.
“Josh and Anna are in Hawaii, you are working Christmas night and you'll be exhausted when you finally get a break over New Year. By next year we could be grandparents, and then we will want to be home. This might be the last year we get the chance at a romantic Christmas together.”
Jensen gulped and feigned enthusiasm, “It’s wonderful mom. I think you should take the blue sequin dress, I know daddy loves to see you in it. So… how much do you know about the family who will be holidaying in our house?”
“Oh it’s a proper agency, and there’s references and checks, Jen sweetheart. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Except being homeless at Christmas, Jensen thought, but he echoed his mother’s enthusiasm and reminded her to send a postcard and gave the address of the hospital on-call accommodation. “Of course, it’s all fine mom, I need to be close to work over Christmas, lots of the staff do,” he lied expertly.
Jensen apologized to Mrs Watkins and asked her to wait a few minutes before she was discharged, and then begged Rachel to cover his absence from the ward. There was a sudden urgency to find Katie, the hospital’s Accommodation Manager.
***
“Please, anything, broom cupboard, basement. I don’t care.”
Katie patted his shoulder sympathetically, and slurped her coffee. He had caught up with her, taking a break in the restaurant.
“Jensen, if I had anything, you could have it, but you know what it’s like over Christmas season. The doctors get first priority, and a third of the accommodation block is closed for essential repairs. I can’t even fit Harry Potter in. There must be a colleague, or somebody. Have you checked the local paper?”
This was not good, Jensen reflected, as he hurried back to the ward. Brisk steps caught up with him, and he startled as he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to face a sturdy young man with a weary face.
“Jensen, isn’t it?” The man stuck a hand out to shake his, and Jensen took it and shook it warmly, as recognition dawned.
“I’m the other Watkins, he said, in explanation. You picked me up when I fainted, when my wife…,”
“Of course I remember. Are you excited to be taking Sera home?”
“Huh, yes, nervous too, but I couldn’t help overhearing you, in the restaurant.”
“Oh.” Jensen said, “Oh!” he said again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” He laughed it off.
“It’s just that there’s a place near us, near where I walk the dog. I don’t think they’re very fussy, and they’ve been advertising in their window, an attic room for rent. It’s a nice view across the park, and it might do, for a while.”
“Really?” Jensen asked cautiously. He didn’t want to seem desperate. He let Mr. Watkins write the address down for him, and after he had waved the little family goodbye, he straightened the crumpled paper out and studied it. The area was close enough to St. Barnabas, but Mr. Watkins had to have the cost wrong. It was much less expensive then all the other rooms he had enquired after.
December 8th
Jensen studied the house in Holly Lane, before he walked to the door. It was in an old area of town and the exterior hadn’t seen a coat of paint in a while. The lawn was unruly within a faded picket fence, and on the stoop, an empty beer can rolled in the breeze. Still, Jensen had to admit, that it was in a good location, on the edge of the park, by woodland.
He glanced upward to the little window in the roof, where there was a rickety wooden platform that jutted over red clay tiles. He wondered at its purpose, but his muse was interrupted by a glimpse of a tall young man at the window with … No! That couldn’t be right…
Jensen blinked, and looked again. There was nothing there. He sighed and continued to the door. He checked the bundle of money in his pocket. He was prepared to play dirty if he had to.
The doorbell didn’t work, and his knock echoed. Eventually he heard steps and ‘shit, shit, Misha put on your fucking pants dude’ before the door was opened by an ordinary looking young man with spiked blond hair and blue eyes. He looked at Jensen and then past him, in confusion.
“If this is about your greenhouse panel, it wasn’t us. Kids in the street, y’know how it is.”
Jensen shook his head and opened his mouth to speak.
“Oh, fuck, man. Stephen ain’t here, so if it’s about your…” the man squinted at him, “wife…sister, then dude, you’ll have to get in line. No forwarding address, y’know what I mean.”
“I came about the room,” Jensen managed to interrupt in the end.
“What room?” The young man looked confused.
Jensen pointed at a tatty handwritten sign in the window, “The attic room,” he clarified. He took out a wad of cash and showed it to the man. “I can pay double for the first month, to move in right away.”
“Oh, that. It’s taken.”
Jensen’s shoulders fell in disappointment.
“Raccoons,” another voice butted in. An older man with short black hair and blue eyes wandered to the door with his pants in his hand, while his faded boxers declared him to be a ‘love machine’. He stuck out his hand to shake Jensen’s. “Raccoons in the attic. Noisy. But we wouldn’t want them to get, er cold, so, that room, er, taken. You can have the other one though.”
“Other one?” The blond man hissed at the dark haired man.
“You know – the one below it, no forwarding address.”
There seemed to be a silent conversation between the two men and then the blond smiled like a barracuda, “Yes! We have a room that’s recently vacated, if you’re interested.”
“Yes!” Jensen replied without thought, even if he wasn’t sure why he was even considering it. There was something extremely strange about this household and its partly pantless residents.
“Oh, good. Party-time!” exclaimed the blond man, enthusiastically, “Here, come in.” he waved Jensen in.
The dark haired man had finally donned his trousers and was smoothing his hair into place. “I’m Misha,” he introduced himself, “And that douche is Chad.”
“Jensen.” Jensen nodded.
“So, Jensen. In trouble with the law? Mob problems?”
“No!” Jensen was horrified at the suggestion, “Why? Have you?”
“No, man. We might be messy but we are all about the peace and love. Live and let live, and make sure you hide the blow where Chad can’t steal it.”
The kitchen was cleaner than Jensen had imagined, and the shared living space was cluttered, but at least the empty beer cans had been tastefully arranged into a surprisingly artful Christmas Tree. There were a few dubious stains on the carpet, but it was no worse than student digs he had lived in. He breathed out. It wasn’t so bad.
The stairs creaked as he climbed them, and somewhere in the house something banged. The heating appeared to be malfunctioning, because the temperature upstairs was stifling. Well, at least he would be cozy.
Chad opened a door onto a room strewn with clothes, festering mugs of liquid, and unidentifiable objects. He slammed the door closed quickly. In the glance Jensen had been allowed, it seemed large and airy, and Jensen had to admit that the view, the same as the attic room, was astounding.
“He left in a hurry. We’ll get it cleared out by the time you get here.” Chad rushed to explain.
Behind them, there was the sound of a door slamming and they both looked around, but nobody was there.
“Is that Misha’s room or yours?” Jensen pointed to the door opposite the room he had been shown. He put his hand on the door knob and Chad intervened, a little too quickly. “It’s only the attic stairs. No need to worry about it.”
“Oh,” Jensen turned the knob, but the door was locked. He looked around again for the person who must have closed the door but there was nobody. Maybe he imagined it.
“You’ll find it sometimes sounds like there’s somebody up there – but you know raccoons,” Chad said, and his eyes seemed overly wide and innocent, “The room is yours if you want it.”
“Do you want to check my references?” Jensen proffered a note from Katie.
Chad seemed surprised, “Dude, you’re a nurse? Well why didn’t you say? Always handy to have a medical man in the house.”
“I work evenings and nights. Will that be a problem?”
“Nah. We’re easy. I’ll get you a key. When do you want to move in?”
“Tomorrow?” Jensen asked, determined not to let the opportunity of a warm room slide, even if it was in a household of very strange strangers. “I can ring animal control if you like, get those raccoons moved on,” he offered, helpfully.
“No! No!” Chad was jumpy. “It’s cold outside. They’re a bit like family. Don’t worry. You won’t see them, hardly hear them.”
“Right. Okay.”
Jensen shrugged off his misgivings, in favor of not sleeping on the streets, and got into a discussion about paying Chad only when he had moved in.
December 9th
Jensen arrived at the house in Holly Lane in time to find Misha tossing the last of the old occupier’s clothes into black bin bags. Chad greeted Jensen like an old friend, with beer and pants in his hand. Luckily they appeared to be someone else’s pants and Chad was fully clothed.
Jensen didn’t have a lot. He set down a crate of assorted DVDs and CDs, another with his old music player and a stack of books, then wheeled in a large case of clothes and bedding. His parents and friends had nagged him to settle down throughout his nurse training and now he had qualified and had a permanent job, the hints only intensified. Jensen didn’t see the hurry. His career consumed most of his time and he had no ties. All he needed was a place to sleep.
The room scrubbed up well. Misha vacuumed the rugs and Jensen joined in wiping the windows while Chad skated around in bare feet on damp cloths soaked in disinfectant, to clean the shiny wooden floor. By the time they were finished, it felt like they were old friends. It dulled the ache of seeing Chris and Steve pack up and leave for their new life. He reminded himself that they weren’t gone forever, but even so, California seemed a long way.
Two games of Mario Brothers, on Chad’s Playstation, and an introduction to his own NURSE-BOY labeled shelf, in the refrigerator later, and Jensen knew about the fungus on Misha’s toenail and the time that Chad was arrested for streaking at a baseball game. If he was distracted for a moment by the creak of the floorboards above them, or a strange shadow blocking the light at the window, he didn’t notice.
December 10th
Jensen finished his shift at six a.m. and it was still dark when he nestled gratefully into his bed. The mattress was surprisingly springy and comfortable, but Jensen kicked off all the covers and he still couldn’t sleep. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and he swore. He got up and paced the room, found the heater control and turned it off. He took a moment to peer out of the window. Winter frost twinkled in the reflection of street lamps, on the trees that lined the park beyond. It was peaceful, and he breathed deep and stretched. Things were working out just fine.
A thump and clatter from above had him diving for cover, and a chunk of wood whirled through the air past his window. When the noise ceased, he cautiously unlatched the window and peered up. The roof above him looked undamaged but he resolved to mention the incident to Chad. His raccoons might be causing structural damage.
He looked down to the lawn below, searching for the offending missile but instead met the cheery wave of a tall, dark haired, and, from what he could see in the dim light, young and very attractive stranger. He waved back and watched him walk at a brisk pace, towards the park.
Jensen thought it was a good day for an early morning walk and maybe he would do the same tomorrow, if it remained dry. Sleepy as he was, it didn’t occur to him to question why the stranger wore no coat.
December 16th
Jensen buttered his toast and reached into the cupboard to retrieve his Nutella. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the jar.
“Oh! C’mon guys!”
“What?” Chad asked, defensively.
“Someone’s had a spoon in this.”
“I have not!” Chad retorted. “I have my own jar.”
“I don’t eat chocolate. Bad for the chakra.” Misha spoke serenely.
“Well, there’s only the three of us here.” Jensen huffed.
Chad shifted uneasily on his chair and a peculiar look passed between him and Misha.
“How would you like it if I drank your beer?” Jensen continued.
“You’d never sleep sweetly again,” Chad threatened.
“And that’s another thing, dude. Seriously, are you sure about those raccoons? Because they are heavy-footed, and I swear they were dragging something around yesterday. Do you want me to check?”
“No!” chorused Misha and Chad simultaneously.
“I’ll go see them,” Chad nodded.
“You’re weird, you know that?” Jensen teased.
December 18th
Jensen’s mother smoothed the eiderdown on Jensen’s bed. “It’s a lovely little room, and Misha seems nice.”
“But you will be looking for a place of your own, next year?” Jensen’s Pa asked gruffly.
“Well, I hadn’t any plans…”
“We were settled down, with Josh on the way, at your age.”
“I want to concentrate on my career.”
His Pa snorted and Jensen knew he was about to mention that being a doctor like Josh was a real career, not wiping noses and changing nappies. His mother rescued the situation.
“We brought you a little something, to make you feel Christmassy. Pa will fetch it from the car.”
His father’s attitude softened. “Sorry to leave you abandoned like this, but your Mom deserves this treat. She’s been our Christmas star every year.”
“I know. I want you to have a great time. Chad and Misha are alright, and I’m working anyway.”
The small potted tree that his father carried up the stairs made him smile, and they exchanged presents to open on Christmas day. Just before they hugged their farewells, Jensen’s mom excused herself to go to the bathroom. She returned with a huge grin on her face.
“I met your Chad. No wonder you’re keen to stay.” She winked at him.
Jensen frowned in confusion, Chad was at work and Misha was downstairs.
“Tall, with dark hair – the sort you want to ruffle, and you could lose yourself in those eyes. He seems a polite young man too, but very shy. He fairly rushed away.” She “mm-hmmed” suggestively and Jensen wanted to ask her more, but his parents had a flight to catch, and his Pa was already at the door.
After they were gone, Jensen searched every room, but only found Misha, melting wax for candles, on the kitchen stove. “Where’s your friend?” he asked.
“Dude?”
“The guy, upstairs. Tall, with dark hair.”
Misha blinked at him before replying, rather too quickly, “Oh, him! He went home.”
“My mother liked him.”
Misha chuckled, “She would.”
“You could have introduced us.”
“He’s shy.”
“What’s his name?”
Misha hesitated. He was definitely looking shifty. “Um. Ja – Jack,” he answered, and turned away from Jensen. “I have to make sure the wax sets just right,” he said, ending the conversation.
Before retreating to his own room, Jensen checked the attic door. The handle shook but it was locked. He pressed his ear against it, not sure what he thought he might hear, and the wood was abnormally warm. It reminded him that he had never turned the heater in his room back on, and yet the temperature remained constantly warm.
In the last few weeks there had been times when he turned around, sure that he was being watched, and other times when he swore that the footsteps in the attic sounded human, rather than animal. There was something about the house that didn’t seem quite right. For the first time in his life Jensen wondered if he believed in ghosts.
December 20th
Jensen’s shift had been intense. One false alarm, an emergency caesarean, and a ventouse delivery saw Jensen leaving St. Barnabas under the weak colors of a frosty dawn. The weather was crisp and clear, and Jensen wound his scarf tight and decided to walk across the park.
There was barely a creature stirring in the hedgerows and trees, but as he got close to Holly Lane a robin hopped from branch to branch, with its head tipped curiously at him. Jensen reached into his bag for the remains of his lunch and broke a little bread for the bird which flew down to peck at it, just a few yards away.
His concentration on the robin had to explain why he bumped into someone, who had apparently appeared from nowhere, in front of him.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
Something gold bounced and rolled across the frozen path. The young man in front of him brushed himself down and blushed. “I didn’t mean to…,”
“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” apologized Jensen, “Is that a bauble?” he asked, distracted by the shine.
“Bauble?”
Jensen didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone turn such a vivid pink in embarrassment, and the young man looked both adorable and very young. He wanted to kick himself for never walking home before, because the guy moving uneasily from foot to foot next to him, was the same one he saw on his first morning, from his window. Close up he was even more attractive.
“Christmas tree decoration. Is it yours?” Jensen picked it up and offered it helpfully.
“N-n-n-no. No idea. Never seen it. Very pretty. Maybe I should…” The young man’s eyes seemed to glow more green as he looked at the trinket and he hastily pocketed it in his thin hoodie.
“Are you bruised? Did you bump your head? You must be cold like that. You should come in for coffee. I live just over there. I’ve got arnica… and coffee,” Jensen decided that he needed to work on his pick-up technique. The guy was hot and he was failing. “Hi, I’m Jensen,” he added lamely, sticking out his hand in greeting.
“Um, Jared,” the young guy replied, picking out leaves and twigs that were tangled in his hair and hood, and Jensen had to wonder how they got there. “Sorry. I really have to go.”
“It’s no trouble,” insisted Jensen.
“I’m meant to be baby-sitting. Can’t be late. Don’t want to miss...well, anything.”
Jensen tried not to swoon, because – baby sitting. “Right. Okay.”
Jared was remarkably fast. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground.
“Will you be here again? Maybe we could get coffee next time,” Jensen called after him.
Jared looked back, and there was a sadness about him, “I’m no good for anybody.”
Then he vanished, and Jensen couldn’t say where to, or which way he had left. It was more than strange.
December 21st
“Very funny, guys. Give me back my tree decorations!”
Chad scratched his head. “The only tree I recognize is my beer-tree of awesomeness.”
“I have a nature altar,” remarked Misha, “Sparkly things don’t go with it.”
“Well someone has taken them, and it’s not funny!”
“Are you sure you haven’t mislaid them?”
Jensen could feel himself pouting. “Put them back, before I get home!”
“Dude! Not us!” Chad denied, open armed.
Jensen stamped out of the door.
***
“The drugs?” Jensen asked Sister Ferris. “There was nothing unusual about the drugs round last night.”
“We’ve taken blood tests,” Sister Ferris spoke sternly.
“There was nothing unusual and we didn’t make any mistakes,” protested Jensen.
“Then please tell me how two pregnant ladies and one junior nurse managed to report a young man flying through a third floor window, to steal cot blankets and nappies, and then stop to take tinsel from the ward Christmas Tree?”
“Oh.”
“Precisely,” snapped Ferris.
“Have they gone?” asked Jensen.
“What? The drugs, the flying man, or the ladies?” Ferris’s eyes were dangerously narrowed.
“The blankets and tinsel?”
“Of course they aren’t,” roared Ferris, “Nobody flies through third floor windows.”
“Em, excuse me?” Nurse Miner raised her hand timidly, “Actually the tinsel has gone from the tree and we counted the blankets and…,”
“Get out of here! You are all suspended until tests are complete!”
“That’s not…,”
Ferris snapped her fingers into ‘a rough approximation of ‘shut up’ and the word “fair” died on Jensen’s lips.
He trudged back home and arrived in Holly Lane just after ten p.m. The house lights were off, because Chad and Misha had gone to a party. Jensen intended to sulk in front of a late night movie with a carton of Ben and Jerry’s.
Except… Oh shit, something bright flickered beyond the open attic window. Light, or fire? If it was fire, it didn’t seem out of control, at least, not yet.
Jensen started to run. He palmed his cell phone but it was out of battery charge. He swore and ran faster, through the door, grabbed the fire-blanket from the kitchen and pounded up the stairs. He yanked the attic door, prepared to break it down, but it opened easily, and slammed after him. On the third attic stair he almost tripped as he stepped on something that rolled and then cracked into pieces. He looked down at a smashed Christmas tree bauble, but didn’t have time to wonder about it.
He stopped on the top stair, open mouthed and mystified.
A cold breeze blew in from the attic window which was ajar, but he could barely feel it. The room was hot, like tropical. A huge log fire roared in an open grate. The gas heater control was pointing to high and little electric heaters whirred frantically. A hard chair stood in the middle of the room and a plain single bed was neatly made. On a table in the corner, was an old-fashioned wash basin and ewer, and beside it a pile of neatly folded linen – a towel, several baby blankets, and a stack of nappies.
Jensen wasn’t sure if the most surprising discovery in the room was the mountain of Christmas decorations which overflowed and rolled over the floor, leaving a trail of fairy-like dust, or the large, golden, glowing, egg, that nestled unharmed in the center of the flames in the hearth.
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them again everything was still there. He swallowed hard and tried to make sense of it all.
December 22nd
Being a sleuth sucked. Hiding in a closet was a lot harder than it looked in the movies.
At least Jensen didn’t have to wait long. A dull thud and creak on the roof platform announced the arrival of whatever was living in the attic room. He held his breath. Then let it go again. Damn fool sleuth should try not to faint. He breathed quietly, but it quickened as he saw what landed there. Translucent gold-green wings stretched majestically and fluttered, as if shaking damp from the delicate membrane. They curled in half and folded protectively around a tall young man, wearing only light sweat pants. He had gold-green eyes, and he shimmered in moonlight as he stepped into the room, carrying a sturdy cardboard box. The shimmer faded, wings neatly folded flat to the man’s back as he closed the window and put the box down. He grabbed a thin hoodie from the chair and pulled it on, over a broad chest and well defined abs, and now Jensen could see him properly – Jared.
Dressed, he looked like any ordinary young man. He took a cheap golden ornament from his pocket and turned it in his hand, admiring it, before placing it on his stash of decorations, then pulled half a chocolate bar from his other pocket and bit into it, like he was starving.
When he had swallowed the last of the chocolate, Jared knelt by the fire in the grate. The glow of the flames reflected on his face, and in that light his eyes were soft and hazel and sad. “We’re gonna be okay little one, you’ll see. I got you a bed, and there are blankets.” He reached to the table, took a blanket and folded it into the box. He continued talking and Jensen couldn’t hear it all but he recognized mother’s baby-speak. He spied on Jared, so fascinated that he forgot to be scared, until Jared casually reached his hand into the fire to stroke the egg.
“No!” Jensen shouted in shock, and tumbled from the closet ready to grab Jared’s arm and treat his burns, and just in time to see Jared blow a jet of white-hot fire into the hearth, from his mouth.
It was unclear who was the most shocked. Jared grabbed his egg from the fire and curled around it protectively. He changed in an instant. Sharp talons scraped the floor, a green scaled tail thumped furiously against the wall, wings extended and curled around him, and he hissed.
Jensen fell back on his ass and his mouth opened and closed. What he wanted to say was, ‘You’re a dragon’, but the only sound he was making sounded like “Aagh!”
They stayed there, for what seemed like an age, in some peculiar stand-off, before Jensen finally got to his knees. If he was honest, the dragon, Jared, happened to be startlingly beautiful, in a shiny green, gothic way, if a little too large to be backed against the attic room wall, swishing his tail.
“Wow! So I guess dragons are real,” was Jensen’s eventual ice-breaker.
Jared-dragon huffed and snarled.
Jensen thought he looked frightened.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I thought you were going to burn yourself.”
Jared dragon narrowed his eyes and looked at the closet. “It doesn’t explain why you were in my closet, spying on me.”
“Dragons talk,” muttered Jensen, as if it made as much sense as dragons existing. Then, “You stole my Christmas Tree decorations,” and added as an afterthought, “and my Nutella.”
“We’re not stupid,” spat Jared dragon, with a faint wisp of fire, “And I will roast you until you’re crispy if you try to take my egg. He tilted his head, and added feistily, “I think I will roast you anyway.” He puffed an impressive blue flare, neatly into the hearth.
Jensen hastily scrabbled back from the fire, watching Jared carefully. He didn’t want to be toasted, but he wasn’t sure that Jared could follow through on his threat, after all, Jared hadn’t toasted Chad, and Chad was the most annoying person Jensen knew.
“Can you do that in any color?” he asked.
“What?” hissed the dragon, “Why?”
“It’s beautiful, like fireworks.”
“What are fireworks?” The dragon asked. He took a step toward Jensen, eager for the answer.
“Pretty explosions in the night sky, they glitter…,” Jensen looked at the stack of ornaments in the corner for inspiration, “…like gold. They’re beautiful, and there are lots on New Year’s Eve. I could show you.”
“There are?”
“Yes,” Jensen nodded enthusiastically.
“I can cook you in cerise…” Jared blew bright pink flame into the fire, “Or even silver,” the next flame gleamed like stars, and Jared oh-so-carefully and gently placed his egg back in the midst of it, “You can choose.” Jared drew himself up. He was almost as large as the room, and his scaled feet and claws spanned Jensen, jamming him into a small space by the bed.
“You’re not going to cook me,” Jensen spoke quickly, with only a slight shake in his words.
“I’m not?” The dragon sounded surprised. He bent his neck gracefully to snuffle his green and surprisingly velvety muzzle against Jensen’s bare neck. Breath puffed hot, but not unbearable over Jensen’s sensitive skin.
“No. You haven’t cooked Chad, so you won’t cook me.”
“You smell nicer than Chad.” Jared snuffled at Jensen again, took a good long sniff and closed his eyes.
Jensen didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He continued, soft and reassuring, “You’re young and alone and you’re about to become a parent. You’re hiding in an attic, stealing food. I don’t know how dragon families work, but I don’t see anyone here defending you, or supporting you. You’re frightened, and I can help you. You’ve watched me. You followed me to the hospital, and you took those blankets and nappies, after my shift ended.”
Jared sat back on his tail, he suddenly looked much smaller. He roared angrily, and a rainbow of bright steam drifted into the room, but Jensen saw the tears that gleamed in his eye.
“You can do this, Jared. You’ll be a great daddy – mom… I can help you. You don’t have to be alone.” He reached to the soft muzzle and stroked it. “Please, let me help you.”
Jensen was surprised to find that he meant it. He was sure he was right in his assessment of Jared’s situation, and he was having a hard time being frightened or angry with Jared, who, for all his threats, hadn’t even singed the décor with his flames.
Little clouds of steam puffed from Jared, and Jensen thought he saw him hiccup. He continued to stroke Jared’s muzzle, extended his touch to tentatively smooth the shimmering scales of his neck. They were warm and smooth and Jensen wanted to lean into them and hug the dragon.
Jensen couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he found his arms full of a tall young man who clasped his arms around him and buried his face into his neck, but it felt good and smelled of wood-smoke and cranberries. He hugged him back.
When Jared’s sniffing subsided, Jensen patted his knee, “When are you expecting? Do you want to tell me about it?”
Jared didn’t let go of Jensen, and he began to talk.
Part 2
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Date: 2013-12-26 11:38 pm (UTC)