Characters: Jared, Jensen, Christian, Misha, Alona, and Felicia
Genre: H/C, Crack, RPS
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me; they all belong to themselves. None of this is true in any way, shape or form. I made it all up, obviously, Jensen is not a green-winged fairy.
Warnings: M/M, naked fairies, touch starvation
Word Count: 3,500 this part
Summary: Written in response to a prompt by at spnkink-meme. Jensen loves his friends and his life in the meadow, but his curiosity about the humans who will soon be moving into the houses beyond the tree line on the other side of the meadow leads him to undertake an adventure. Traveling alone is dangerous for a fairy. Everything is bigger than they are and, although they have some protective magic, it often isn't enough. Add in the very real risk of touch starvation and it's easy to see how this adventure could end in tragedy.
A/N: Thank you . Your beautiful manip of fairy!Jensen gave me the last little push I needed to write this fic. You are a great friend and a very brave person!
Green Wings and Shiny Things
It's the sound of the Guardian's pet name for his charges that pulls Jensen from the depths of a sleep filled with strange dreams and a sense of hopelessness.
The Guardian must have urgent need of him as it is not customary for him to awaken Jensen or any of the other fairies unless there is danger nearby. Something must be wrong. The heavy sensation in his chest brought on by his dream gets more pronounced.
More words follow, something about a comet and illness and a word that sounds like cough-e. He can make no sense of them. Above him, a large face framed by long, dark hair looms. Jensen's vision is hazy, as though he's looking up at the surface from the bottom of a murky swamp. The Guardian's features are obscured by shifting bands of light and shadow.
Jensen feels strange, detached from his body, weightless and yet leaden at the same time. He's never experienced anything like this before. It's almost as though he's still dreaming, trapped in a nonsense world.
Pushing aside his confusion and speaking around what feels like a swollen tongue, Jensen asks, "Have you need'a me, Guar'ian? Wha' can I do to ashhist you?"
If there is trouble, he wants to help in whatever way he can, despite how groggy and shaky he is. He tries to sit up and discovers that he cannot. Even though nothing is holding him down, he is too weak to move. Tremors that he cannot control threaten to shake him apart. This fact doesn't scare him, it only bewilders him further.
"Wha's wrong with me?" he asks, noting how thick and slow his voice sounds.
A loud buzzing in his ears prevents him from understanding the answer. The more he tries, the further the meaning slips away from him. It's hard to concentrate.
As he lies there, unable to move, to see properly, to hear, he wonders what the other fairies are doing. He hopes they are alright. He hopes they are together and happy somewhere safe. Alona is resourceful. She'll figure out what to do. If they stay together, they'll be alright.
Jensen doesn't know how he got left behind, but he wishes he could be with them, wherever they are.
Gradually, he becomes aware of warmth seeping into his body and a heady caress. The touch feels so good, soothing and nurturing. It makes him feel cared for in a profound way. Deprived of his other senses and with no alternative course of action available to him, Jensen stops thinking and focuses on that touch, latching on to it with his mind since he cannot hold on to it any other way.
A large finger strokes the length of his body, from his chest, along his stomach, his hip, down one leg to his foot. This happens again. And again. The finger moves on to his other side, his arms, his face. Every centimeter of his skin receives the same tender attention. No one has every touched him like this before. Hugs and cuddles and simple touches, yes, all the time, but nothing this all-pervasive. The smooth glide of skin on skin soon lulls him into an almost trance-like state.
The touch is similar to that of the Guardian's in that the fingers are too large to belong to Misha, Alona or Felicia. It is gentle and somehow reassuring as the Guardian's touches often are. That is where the similarities end, however. Where the Guardian's fingers are roughened by a life spent outside, weathering the elements on a daily basis, these are even bigger, even stronger, but completely free of scars and callouses.
Whoever is holding him, whoever is helping him, it isn't the Guardian, Jensen realizes.
The touches continue and Jensen's tremors begin to recede, the white noise in his ears fades, some small amount of strength returns to him. When next the finger caresses his cheek, he leans into the touch, hoping to convey his gratitude in the best way he knows how.
"That's it," says the deep voice from above him, still muffled as if Jensen's ears are filled with mud, but mostly intelligible now. "You're doing good, Comet. You're not trembling so hard anymore. There's no reason to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to help."
"Who's C'met and why's he scared?" Jensen asks, blinking his eyes in an effort to bring them into focus.
The finger moves away, the blurry face gets closer, and Jensen feels a vibration underneath him as the person cradling him chuckles. The sound is more one of relief than amusement, he thinks.
"Actually...you're Comet, at least until you're well enough to tell me your real name."
"Oh," says Jensen. He ponders that for a while. "'m I no' well?"
There's a slight pause and then, in a low tone, the voice confirms, "No, you're not well."
'Not well' means he is sick and fairies don't get sick, so illness doesn't seem like a reasonable explanation for his predicament. Touch deprivation is a type of illness, but as far as truly getting sick, fairies never...
"Oh," he says again as memories flood into him. He remembers getting trapped inside the human dwelling, frantically searching for a way out. He remembers getting weaker and weaker, finally losing hope and resigning himself to death. He remembers being unable to open his eyes and knowing he would never see anything ever again.
The memories seem to sap him of what little strength he had regained. As his breathing deepens and slows, it somehow becomes very important that he set one thing straight.
"'m not scared," he breathes out on a long, drowsy exhale.
"I didn't catch that. What are you trying to say? Hey, hey, hey, don't fall back asleep yet."
Jensen hears the voice calling to him and he tries to comply, but it's no use. Despite the tip of a large finger gently rubbing his cheek, his world tilts and he slides headlong into the sweet, dark ether.
The next time Jensen wakes up, he's on his stomach, the side of his face smooshed against a warm, comfortable surface. A rhythmic up and down motion makes him feel as though he's floating on some lazy current of thermal air. The same large hand from before is cupping his body in a light, yet protective grip, and there's a rumbling noise coming from somewhere above and behind him.
He knows where he is and how he got here. He's inside a human dwelling which means that he is most likely being held by a human. Jensen's eyes widen. A human has saved him from touch starvation, has been caring for him and providing touch therapy for what has probably been many hours, maybe longer. A little thrill runs along his spine.
Sunlight pours through the clear panes in the wall. It is daytime, although how many days have passed since his unfortunate adventure began he cannot tell. It might have been one day or many weeks for all he knows. Misha, Alona and Felicia will have given up all hope of finding him alive by now. Something tells him that the Guardian will never give up looking for him though. If nothing else, guilt will fuel his search. The thought is a sad one and Jensen cannot help the whimper that comes from his throat.
The soft sound does not provoke any changes in his immediate surroundings. His bed continues to move steadily up and down. The rumbling noise continues on unabated.
Jensen decides to take stock of his situation. He experiments by flexing one arm. He can shift it, but the muscles are still too weak for more than feeble movement. With supreme effort, he brings one hand up to his face, knuckling sleepily at his eyes. His skin is hyper-sensitive, nerve endings sparking back to life after dormancy. He squirms a little, just to feel the delicious tingles generated by the movement wherever his naked body touches his warm bed. The tingling sensation begins to concentrate in one particular area, heat igniting and pooling. Jensen's face grows red when he realizes what he's doing and why it feels so good. He stops. That's not supposed to happen now.
Maybe it's time for him to meet his human.
By lifting his head Jensen can see that he's lying on the man's chest. His shirtless chest. Jensen whole-heartedly approves of his human's willingness to do without a shirt. Clothing is a nuisance he will never understand.
They are in the room Jensen had originally entered through a gap in the wall. It's much the same as he had first found it. Boxes still clutter the area, although some of them appear to have been opened, their contents now scattered here and there.
The man is asleep, slouched on one of the things meant for sitting on, head tipped back to rest on the cushions, eyes closed. The rumbling noise emanates from his slightly open mouth. He must have been very tired to have fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position.
Short, stubbly bristles cover the man's cheeks and jaw. Fairies cannot grow facial hair, but upon seeing how ruggedly handsome his human looks, Jensen wishes otherwise. He rubs his own smooth jaw, imagines himself with a bushy beard and grins, amused by the thought. A few particles of fairy dust swirl from his wings and shimmer in the sunlight.
Wobbly as a newborn fox kit, Jensen crawls out from under the cupped hand and inches along the incline until he reaches the juncture of the man's shoulder and neck. There he curls up, muscles quivering from so much exertion too soon, to wait for his human to awaken. Patience is not normally high on Jensen's list of attributes, but he can be patient now. After all, this man has obviously been very patient for him.
Some time later, the man takes a deep breath and lifts his head from the cushions. His empty hand flies up and Jensen hears a loud gasp. Before he can do or say anything, the man's head begins to swivel so frantically that Jensen is almost tossed from his perch.
"No, no, no," the man chants under his breath. "This can't be happening. I did not fall asleep and lose you. Not after all the progress you've made." As he mutters to himself, the man carefully pats the folds in his slacks, pushes his hands between cushions, and investigates the crease between his legs, all without moving from his slouching position.
"It's okay, you haven't lost me," Jensen pipes up.
The distraught search ends abruptly. A hand reaches up to curl around him while the man cranes his head to the side. Jensen allows himself to be lifted away from his human's shoulder.
"You scared the crap out of me. I thought I was going to find you in a crumpled little heap somewhere." The man is busy looking him over, inspecting his wings, his arms, legs, torso, delicate touches everywhere. "Are you alright? Did I smush you in my sleep?"
"No, you did not smush me. You have been very kind. I am in your debt." Jensen tries to stand and bow but, to his embarrassment, his legs are far too unsteady and he topples onto his side in the palm of the man's hand. So much for his attempt at gallantry.
The man eases him into a more comfortable position, smoothing out his wings and untangling his legs. "Easy does it, Comet. You've had a rough couple of days. It'll be a while before you're ready for anything strenuous."
"Comet?" Jensen thinks he remembers something about that name, but it's a far-away memory, shrouded in confusion.
"Oh yeah, sorry. I didn't know your name so that's what I've been calling you. I'm afraid it's kind of a habit now."
Jensen is embarrassed by his lack of manners. "Please, let me introduce myself. My name is Jensen. I live in the meadow next to your village and I have come to welcome you to the area." He blushes. "That is what I was going to say to the first human I got to meet. I guess it does not really work anymore since I botched it." Swallowing hard, he looks down at his clasped hands and shrugs.
"It works perfectly. I'm Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you, Jensen." When Jensen continues to avoid eye contact, Jared extends a finger and gently tilts his head back up, smiling softly. "Hey, you didn't botch anything. But I've been dying to know - how did you get stuck inside my house?"
"You could say my curiosity got the better of me. Felicia always warns me that I'm too nosy for my own good, but it's never gotten me into this much trouble before." Jensen scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.
"And Felicia is...?" Jared leaves his question open, waiting for Jensen to fill in the blank.
"Felicia is one of my quadral mates."
Jared's brow furrows. "She's your mate?"
"No, not my mate, one of my...There are four of us. We're put into groups of four fairies from the time of our birth and each group is called a quadral. We look out for one another and make sure no one is ever alone because of, you know, the possibility of touch starvation. Felicia, Alona, and Misha are my quadral mates and then there's the Guardian. He protects us."
"Okay, I think I remember seeing something about that on TV." Jared nods his understanding as a shadow passes over his face. "But why did your friends...why did your quadral and this guardian let you go off on your own when they knew how dangerous it would be for you? And why haven't they come looking for you?"
Jensen hangs his head. "I kind of snuck off without telling them where I was going. They will never suspect me of having come this far by myself," he whispers.
Jared snorts and Jensen looks up to see that the shadow has been replaced by a grin and two deep dimples. "So you're a curious, sneaky, ninja fairy then, is that it? I gotta say, I didn't take you for the type. Still, it's better than the alternative."
"What is the alternative?"
"Well, if your quadral had knowingly let you put yourself in danger, I would have had to open up a can of fairy whoop-ass."
"Fairy whoop-ass?" Jensen cannot help but laugh at the ridiculous picture this puts in his mind. "I doubt you have it in you to hurt anyone, with a can of fairy whoop-ass or otherwise."
Jared sighs and caresses Jensen's wings with a fingertip. "Yeah, but I've grown kind of attached to you over the last couple of days. The thought of you getting hurt because the people who are supposed to look out for you aren't doing their jobs? That makes me a little crazy."
Jensen thinks of the Guardian's protectiveness and his breath hitches. "I should go back and let them know I'm okay. They've probably been grieving for me. How many days have I been here?"
"I found you two days ago. I've gotten pretty good at doing stuff one-handed." Jared rubs his jawline. "Well, except for shaving. I really didn't want to risk cutting myself, but just about everything else."
Jensen is astonished. "Two days? You've been holding me for two straight days? No breaks? But how have you been eating? Humans need to eat, do you not? That is what the Guardian told us."
"Yes, we eat," A rueful smile quirks Jared's lips. "I've been living off delivery pizza and coffee for the past forty-eight hours."
Even though Jensen doesn't know what either of those things are, a shudder ripples through him. "That sounds dreadful."
"It's not as bad as all that," Jared assures him.
A yawn takes Jensen by surprise. He really does want to let the other fairies and the Guardian know that he is alive, but he feels wrung out just from sitting up and chatting. The hollow space in his chest still pains him and his muscles feel like they've been turned into pulp. There is little chance he would last long outside by himself right now.
"Maybe I can just rest for a while longer and then I will go back to the meadow. I have inconvenienced you enough." Jensen curls up in the palm of Jared's strong hand. He likes how big Jared's hand is, how safe he feels cradled inside it.
"You're not an inconvenience," Jared says, voice deeper and quieter than Jensen has yet heard him. "I'll take you back to your meadow once you can fly again. For now, why don't you lie on your back and let me continue your touch therapy where I left off when I fell asleep."
Jared plucks him up with the index finger and thumb of his free hand and Jensen likes that too. Jared holds him so deftly, easily positioning him on his back along Jared's forearm, arranging each of his arms and legs to make him comfortable.
Jensen's skin still buzzes with renewed nerve activity. It reacts to Jared's touch with bursts of pleasure, fizzing and pulsing. Nothing has ever felt this good. The intensity is overwhelming.
Jared uses his whole hand to massage Jensen's chest and stomach, affecting a huge swath of his nervous system all at the same time. Jensen struggles to remain still as the heel of Jared's hand brushes against his groin and the tips of Jared's fingers work at the muscles in his shoulder. By the gods, it feels exquisite. Jensen's every impulse is to writhe and buck into Jared's huge hand, but he dares not give away his mounting excitement for fear that Jared will be displeased.
This is something very new to him. Never has touch affected him this way before. It's always been about nourishment, never pleasure.
Jared's fingers trail down his sides to his hips and Jensen looses it. Blood rushes to his nether region and his mouth falls open on a groan, his hips judder.
Jensen clamps a hand over his mouth and looks at Jared, eyes wide. "I am sorry," he murmurs.
Jared's hand stills. "Jensen, it's okay. You're aroused by the physical stimulation, it's as simple as that. It doesn't have to mean anything."
"It has never happened to me before. Not like that. I do not understand why it is happening now."
"What do you mean it's never happened to you before? You've never gotten aroused before, is that it? Don't fairies have sex?" Jared moves his hand from Jensen's hips to his leg where he kneads the skin of his calf and shin. It still feels wonderful, sparks igniting wherever his fingers glide. It's tolerable though and Jensen doesn't think he's in danger of losing control any longer.
"Are you asking if fairies procreate? Yes, we procreate when the time comes. We hope that our unions will result in new life, but there is no...it does not feel like...Jared, I do not understand why it is different with you. Your touch feels different, special. I am not sure how to describe it."
"It could just be an aftereffect of the touch deprivation. We don't know for sure that it has anything at all to do with me specifically." Jared gives him a self-deprecating smile. "We should talk about this some more, Jensen. When you're stronger and aren't so dependent on me. You still have some healing to do. Until then, I just want you to know that there's nothing wrong with the way you reacted."
Jensen mulls this over. He doesn't think the way he feels when Jared touches him can be completely explained by touch deprivation. It just seems like there's more to it than that. He wants to explore this phenomenon some more and he hopes that Jared will want to explore it with him. Not now though. Jared's right. There will be time for more discoveries. Later.
Closing his eyes and folding his wings tight to his back, Jensen turns on his side and snuggles up against Jared's flat stomach, content to wait out the remainder of his illness in Jared's capable hands.
Continued in Chapter 5
( Chapter 2 )
Start at the beginning ( Chapter 1 )
( Chapter 3 )