Work Text:
“I love you.” He held the stare for a count before he remembered to look behind him, eyes misting over with unshed tears as he stared at the wall before he turned around, desperation leaving him feeling weak.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean.” The final words rang like an executioner’s bell in his head, before he was being forcefully pushed to the side. With a grunt, he rolled over, horrified as he righted himself enough to look–
Misha inhaled, a small, content smile playing on his lips even as he closed his eyes, despite a tear having slipped free and making its way down his cheek. Hands to the sidc, he braced himself, standing proud and holding the position for the few seconds they’d needed to later add the special effects to onscreen.
“And… cut!”
Jensen blinked, feeling shaken. Misha immediately dropped his battle ready stance, except rather than preparing to fight, he’d been ready to give himself to the Empty’s clutches, sacrificing himself for the world… for Dean.
Jensen swallowed, trying to shake the remnants of a character bleed away before it could truly sink its talons in him. Still, feeling unsteady, he rose to his feet.
Richard had come over to them, clapping Misha on the shoulder, congratulating him, and the rest of the crew were following, but Jensen hung back, a gaping hole in his chest leaving him to feel… wrong.
Over the commotion of people coming over and stubbornly remaining happy to congratulate Misha on his final scene, Misha looked up and caught Jensen’s eyes over them all.
Blinking, Jensen slightly shook his head, and walked off the set.
He’d made it all the way outside of the building where the bunker was set, and ducked off to the side of the building, hidden in shadows where he knew no one would immediately see him. He had all of a few seconds to himself before he sensed someone else approaching.
“Hey,” Misha’s voice was soft, cautious but open, and Jensen raised his head from where he’d let it drop, peering at Misha through foggy eyes. Fuck, he still hadn’t wiped the tears away from his face. He knew, technically, they’d be calling him back after they’d reset the markers and everything, for them to shoot the final scene of the episode, where he’d be seated where he fell, ignoring Sam’s phone call and sobbing, mourning Cas’s death.
But he just needed the few minutes to himself, to convince himself that it wasn’t real, that it was just the character, not real–
He was having a hard time telling himself that, needless to say. Fifteen years on the show, twelve with Misha, and every day, he was saying goodbye to one character or the other, just like he would have to tomorrow and the day after, but this one…
Like he could sense his thoughts, he was always special like that, Misha drew closer, barely leaving a few inches of space between them. Jensen honestly couldn’t tell who started it first – Dean and Cas, or Jensen and Misha.
Either way, the close proximity was a familiar warmth, one he’d eagerly sucked in even as he tried to ignore how he wouldn’t get this again, not like he’d gotten to–
“Hey, Jensen. Look at me.” He wasn’t aware he’d ever looked away, but he looked back, now, staring into those cerulean blues… Unbidden, his hands rose without conscious thought, clutching onto the lapels of that damn trench coat, bringing Misha ever closer, until their toes of their shoes were bumping into each other. Resting his forehead against Misha’s, for a second, Jensen just let himself feel the warm puffs of air Misha gently let out with each exhale, soft against his own damp face.
At some points, the tears he’d supposed to keep from falling had let loose. Thinking of the reason why he’d been forced to shed them in the first place took all of his control to prevent another fresh wave from cascading down his cheeks.
“That was the end,” Jensen whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Misha brought his hands up to cup Jensen’s face. “The damned end, Mish. All these years, and I get it, I do… but they–you deserved to have stuck with us to the end, man.”
He wasn’t making any sense, barely even to himself, but Misha understood, of course, he understood what Jensen was getting at. “It’s okay. There’s only two more episodes, Jensen. The boys… they need this fight. And not to sound prideful, but I think Cas was done justice, getting his ending in his own episode.”
Jensen’s breath caught in his throat, at the words. “I know. God, Mish, I know.” Swallowing, his fingers flexed.
Misha tilted Jensen’s head up, making him meet Misha’s eyes. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “We knew this was coming, didn’t we?” He didn’t let Jensen look away again, no matter how much he wanted to. “It was a long time coming. Cas and Dean – they deserved this. Cas telling how he felt, Dean hearing it…” he gently frowned. “But we’re still here, Jensen. This may be the end of one story, a legacy… but we still have each other.”
Jensen tried to smile. It felt stilted. “Still. ‘S gonna feel weird, man.”
Misha sighed. “Believe me, I can understand the sentiment.” He quietly regarded Jensen for a moment, letting silence reign for several seconds before saying anything. “But life must go on, doesn’t it,” he said. Rhetorical or not, Jensen didn’t say anything.
Didn’t have to, when Misha closed the scant distance between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Closing his eyes again, Jensen gave himself over to the feel and sensation of the kiss, of Misha holding him, the warmth of his lover’s body against his. They’d barely broken apart before Jensen was swooping back in to capture Misha’s lips again, unwilling to let them part so soon. The memories of Cas’s words, hitting so close, so true about someone Jensen genuinely considered a part of himself… it was all still far too fresh, and he knew it would continue to do so for days to come, at least.
With the sight of Cas, so ready to give himself up for the greater good, especially if it meant Dean could be safe, seared so vividly into his mind, the seconds passing doing nothing to diminish the sharpness of the memory, Jensen desperately pulled Misha closer, looping his arms around Misha’s back, relishing in the safety Misha seemed to exude when they were like this.
Sighing, Misha pulled back to let them breathe, because they both knew Jensen would’ve kept going until one of them passed out. Still, he kept close, enough for Jensen to continue pecking at him with every other breath, unwilling to stay apart for as long as it took for them to regain their breaths.
Unfortunately, the distant sound of a bell reminded Jensen that he wasn’t done filming his scenes yet, and Misha was just as well aware of it.
“You should go,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You just need to finish the one scene, and then we can leave.” Slowly, he pulled back, disentangling himself from Jensen. Hating them both for it, Jensen let him go, mournfully watching Misha take a step back, and then another. Misha smiled at him anyway, even as he stepped back one last time, giving Jensen enough space to leave, too much space away from Misha.
“It’s okay,” he repeated, not for the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He’d keep it up, Jensen knew, for as long as it took for Jensen to actually believe Misha. “I won’t be going anywhere – I’ll be waiting for you.”