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Customers gone, wife and kids safely tucked at home, Jensen sits back in the lawn chair in front of the fire pit, staring at the crackling flames. There’s fairy lights strung up everywhere in the outdoor space - Danneel really outdid herself - and Jensen takes a moment to absorb everything. With the break from filming he’s been able to dedicate his time to his family and his business, and he feels good. Relaxed. Happy. Not to say that filming and seeing his fans doesn’t make him happy, but this is different. Pure. No expectations.
“Am I intruding on your alone time?”
Jensen’s gaze lifts to see Misha leaning casually in the doorway of the brewery. Heart tripping in his chest, he stares in disbelief. Misha is supposed to be halfway across the world doing something or other with his new show- they’d already discussed being apart for Christmas. But here he is, twinkle lights casting him in an ethereal glow, the flames from the fireplace dancing in cobalt eyes. He looks good in relaxed jeans and a hoodie, not really dressed for the chilly weather, but Jensen can assume that living up north has made him able to adjust to colder temperatures easier.
“Mish,” Jensen finally says. He stands, putting his beer in the cupholder of the chair arm. “What are you doing here?”
Misha stays where he is. He slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, eyes traveling around the area. “Danneel did a great job. This looks like the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
Jensen laughs. “Yeah, she knows.” After a moment, his voice softens. “Come over here.”
As if he’d been waiting for permission, Misha floats into Jensen’s space. They’re closer to the fire and when they’re within arm’s reach they wrap around each other, Jensen inhaling Misha’s laundry soap and aftershave. They hug tightly for a few moments, and then when they pull apart the twinkle lights highlight the mischief in Misha’s eyes.
“Are we alone?”
Jensen nods.
Misha hums, hands on Jensen’s hips as he starts walking the man backwards until his butt bumps into the edge of a picnic table. “Good. Danneel said she’s putting the kids to bed.”
Jensen’s belly swoops. Misha and Danneel text casually and frequently, but Jensen is suddenly aware of what they were texting about that led Danneel to tell Misha how she was going to spend her evening. Licking his lips, Jensen slides his hands until they rest on Misha’s ass, the fire behind him warming the denim under his hands. “Time to christen the brewery?”
Misha nods solemnly, pressing kiss after kiss down the length of Jensen’s neck. “And then we’ll do keg stands.”
Jensen barks a laugh. “Fuck, I love you.”
“Merry Christmas,” Misha says in reply, love in his tone as he finally seals their mouths together.
Merry Christmas, indeed.