God, he was hungry. He stared mournfully into his cold, greying cup of coffee, wishing desperately that it was a plate of bacon and eggs instead. His stomach rumbled painfully at the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, and he pressed his hand hard against it to try and relieve the sudden cramping. Three days. It had been three days since Jensen’s dad had tossed him out on the street with no money but the few bills he had in his pocket, no fresh clothes and none of his possessions. Jensen literally had nothing to his name but the clothes on his back, which were now dirty and stained and smelled bad enough that he'd already gotten a few dirty looks from the other diners. It was mortifying, sitting there trying to shrink back as far as possible into his seat and avoid their eyes, and made Jensen want to disappear, just for a little while.
'Honey, you've gotta order something else if you're gonna stay in here.' Jensen looked up at the waitress now standing by his table. She looked sad, her thin lips curved down at the edges and her eyebrows drawn together, almost like she knew he couldn't afford anything else. Hell, she probably did know since not two hours ago, she'd had to watch Jensen root around in his pockets for almost five minutes before he'd been able to come up with just enough money to pay for the coffee sitting in front of him. She looked at him like she knew he had no place to go.
And she was right.
Jensen slid his hand into his pocket again, hoping to find a couple of coins he'd maybe missed the last two times he'd checked. Unsurprisingly, he came up with nothing but lint. 'Um,' he said, quickly snatching up a menu, 'I just need a few more minutes to decide what I want to have.' He gave her a nervous smile and turned his attention back to the menu they both knew he had no intention of ordering from.
'Hon, I'm sorry,' she said, slowly extracting the menu from his hands. 'You're gonna have to go.'
'Oh,' he mumbled quietly as he stood up, his cheeks already reddening in embarrassment. He wobbled dangerously at first, clutching desperately at the table for a few moments in a bid to stay upright, before he eventually managed to get his balance back. He didn't look at the waitress again as he slid out the booth and headed towards the door, but he could feel her eyes on him. Could tell that she hadn’t wanted to throw him out, that it hadn’t been her choice, but that didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that Jensen had nowhere to go, or that it was bitterly cold outside, or that he was so hungry he wasn't sure he was actually doing to make it to the door before he passed out.
And it certainly didn’t change the fact that Jensen had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next.
Jensen stepped out of the dinner, rubbing his hands down his bare arms and looking around for some shelter, anywhere that might protect him from the biting wind lashing against his back. True to form, there wasn't any so he jogged over to the side of the diner, turned the corner and pressed himself up against the wall. It helped a little, sheltering him from the worst of the winds, but he was still freezing as he sat down on the hard ground and hugged his knees to his chest.
God, what was he going to do?
'Hey, kid?' Jensen jumped at the sound of the rough voice above him, and jerked his head up. The man looking down at him was old, years older than Jensen’s dad even, with a jutting belly and thin, greying hair. His cigarette jiggled from the side of his mouth, almost like it had a life of its own, as he said in the same gruff voice as before, 'I saw you in the diner earlier; you ain't got no more money have you, boy?' Jensen shook his head, hugging his knees tighter and willing himself not to cry. 'I could help you out with that if you like?'
Jensen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he asked, 'How?'
In response, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp twenty dollar note that Jensen couldn’t help but stare longingly at. The sound of a zipper opening snapped Jensen's attention away from the note, though, and he watched in disgust as the man began to open the fly of his jeans. 'Come on, kid, you want this or not?' the man grunted impatiently, waving the bill just out of Jensen’s reach.
Jensen licked his lips nervously. He did want the money. Desperately. But this...could he do this for it? His stomach took that moment to growl loudly and, ultimately, made the decision for him. Not that there had been much of a choice to begin with – Jensen needed that money or he wasn’t going to make it through another night.
So Jensen got to his knees and shuffled closer to the man in front of him, tentatively reaching out and taking hold of the half opened zipper. It sounded abnormally loud as he undid it the rest of the way, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest as he reached inside. He couldn't help but flinch away when he felt the man’s hot hardness against his hand, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and close his fingers around it. The man groaned low as Jensen pulled his cock out of his jeans, and Jensen had to grit his teeth against the wave of nausea that swept through him at the sound.
He could do this…he could do this…he could…
Steeling himself, Jensen closed his eyes and leaned forward, but just before his lips touched the guy’s dick, it was suddenly ripped away from him. Actually, the man's whole body was torn away, and Jensen watched with wide eyes as the overweight trucker was slammed against the wall by another man. The stranger punched him twice in the gut before tossing him to the ground. The trucker was up in an instant, and he immediately took off at an awkward run, dashing across the parking lot and struggling to hold up his still open jeans with one hand.
The stranger turned to Jensen then and knelt down in front of him. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, with almost shoulder-length, dark brown hair, that swayed a little in the wind, and kind hazel eyes. 'Are you okay? Did he hurt you?' the stranger asked, his voice deep and urgent. It was weird – the man sounded genuinely concerned about Jensen, and there was a worried frown pulling at his mouth. It had been a long time since anyone had cared about Jensen like that. Years maybe…long before his parents had finally kicked him out. Jensen didn’t really know how to respond to that kind of concern, so he just shook his head slightly in response. 'Are you alone out here? Where are your parents?'
'I don't…,' Jensen started. 'It's just me.'
The man's frown deepened and he ran a hand through his messy hair just as a particularly icy gust of wind blew past them. 'Jesus, it's freezing out here,' he hissed, reaching out to touch Jensen's arm. 'Dammit, you're skin's like ice, and you look like you haven't eaten in days.’
Then, with a quick look over his shoulder, the man got to his feet and gently pulled Jensen up with him. 'Come on, I’ve got some food in my truck and some warm clothes I can give you.'
As soon as he was on his feet, though, Jensen pulled his arm away, in spite of his hunger and in spite of how good those warm clothes sounded. No one had tried to help him in days, not one person, so why was this guy suddenly offering to do so? 'Why?' he asked, eyeing the man warily.
The man just gave him a long, sad look and said, 'Because you need my help, kid, and I can't leave here without giving you that. Trust me, I only want to give you what you need.'
Jensen didn't know what to do. The guy didn't look crazy and he really did sound like he was worried about Jensen. Maybe there were good people in the world, and Jensen just hadn't been lucky enough to meet any of them until now. Yeah, that had to be it…plus, it was high time Lady Luck stopped screwing him over anyway. So that settled, Jensen nodded once and followed the man back to his truck.