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It’s only August and it’s already getting cold at dusk. The sky is grey around them, air crisp, and the smell of water and wind is sharp in Jensen’s nose.
The sun is making its slow ascent for the evening and in a few minutes the sky will be aflame with color; beautiful oranges and yellows eating up the horizon.
It’s rare he gets to see sunsets anymore, often times he’s cooped up in some overheated warehouse or campy motel room filming, so each one he does have the pleasure of seeing he treasures, harbors in his memory for a rainy day.
Off to his side Misha bumps his shoulder, hand braced next to Jensen’s on the rail, their pinkies barely bumping.
“Do you think they’ll let me drive the boat?” He asks. His smile is brilliant against the backdrop around them and a fluttering sensation builds in Jensen’s chest.
“No way.”
“I always wanted to be a captain,” Misha admits. He’s got that look in his eye, like he’s about to do something bizarre and it’s both the most endearing and terrifying thing about the man. Jensen smiles to himself.
“Yeah, well, Captain, I vote you stay here,” Jensen moves to stand just behind Misha, settling his arms around the other man, fingers twining, chin hooking over Misha’s shoulder. “With me,” he finishes.
“I know what you’re doing, Jensen,” Misha says, though he doesn’t attempt to move.
Jensen’s nose, cold from the snap of wind against his cheeks, finds it’s way into the crook of Misha’s neck where it’s warm and smells like spearmint. “Is it working?” he murmurs.
Misha shivers. “For now.” He leans more fully into Jensen, back warm against Jensen’s chest and it’s one of those moments where Jensen feels like life could not possibly be better. Then Misha turns in his arms, blue eyes vibrant even in the waning light, and Jensen’s reminded just how much better life can be.
“You look ridiculous in that hat, by the way,” Jensen says with a smirk as he reaches up to flick lightly at the brim of Misha’s hat.
“It was all I could find, you were rushing me.” Misha’s eyes glitter knowingly, and Jensen feels a little warmer in the cheeks. They had gone straight from shower blow jobs to oh-fuck-we’re-gonna-miss-the-boat and they’d both ran out the door with hair a mess and cheeks still flushed.
Misha had barely had enough time to throw on the hoodie Jensen had left by the front door the night before.
Really though Misha’s been wearing that hat all fucking week so the excuse is moot. It’s better than the Cock hat at least.
“Your beanie is much more dignified though,” Misha points out smartly.
“Hey,” Jensen protests in mock offense. “I like my beanies.”
“I know you do, J, you wore one all summer.”
Jensen balks. “Not all summer.”
Misha says nothing, just offers Jensen one of his shit eating grins, and Jensen shakes his head. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Says the man who insulted my hat.”
Jensen feels warm all over; bantering with Misha always gets him worked up - in the best of ways - and he can’t help the smile that steals over his face as he drinks in the excited spark in Misha’s eyes.
After a second he reaches up, tugs the hat off Misha’s head and turns it bill-backwards before fitting it back where it was. “Asshole,” Jensen repeats, this time against Misha’s mouth.
Misha kisses him then, warm and slow, hands gripping Jensen’s hips for balance against the rocky water beneath them, and nose cold.
“You never like my clothes,” Misha points out with a quiet smile.
“S’cos I generally prefer you naked.”
Misha grins, wide, teeth showing, and let’s out a laugh. “I like the way you think, Ackles.”
Jensen shrugs. “I try.” He kisses Misha again and as he does, catches a glimpse of the sky over the other man’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, hands finding Misha’s hips and guiding him to turn around. “You’re missing it.”
Together they watch the sun go down, stars twinkling into existence and a calming sort of hush falling over the world.
“Hey, Jensen,” Misha mutters.
“Hmmmm.”
“I’m glad we have great chemistry.”
Jensen chuckles, noses at the curl of hair just behind Misha’s ear. “Yeah,” he says, “me too.”