Work Text:
I Want You, Too
“Jensen, honey, before you go meet Jared, do me a favor. Can you take the pumpkin bread on the counter over to Ms. Vitson?”
“Ms. Vitson?” Jensen asked as he walked into the kitchen to grab the bread. “I thought she was in the hospital.”
“Oh no, she got home yesterday. Apparently one of her grandsons is here with her. He’s supposed to stay with her until she can get back on her feet.”
“Alright.” He grabbed the bread and kissed his mom on the cheek. “I’ll be home for dinner.”
“You better!” she yelled as he ran out the door.
For reasons unbeknownst to Jensen, neither Ms. Vitson nor his parents had deemed a fence necessary, so Jensen simply cut across both lawns and walked up to the front door before knocking twice. Jensen wasn’t particularly expecting anything about Ms. Vitson’s grandson, but he certainly had not been expecting dark, messy hair or blue eyes the color of the sky.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi. I live next door; my mom wanted me to bring this over.” He awkwardly held out the bread.
The stranger smiled and took the bread out of his hands. “Thanks… I’ll be sure to let my grandma know it’s from…”
“Oh sorry, uh Jensen, Jensen Ackles.”
“Hey, Jensen. I’m Misha.”
“Misha?”
“Yeah, I know, but it grows on ya.” Suddenly there was a loud thunk from deep within the confines of the house. Misha winced. “Sorry. Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Jensen Ackles.” And with a smirk, Misha disappeared into the house.
***
“So did you meet Ms. Vitson’s grandson? Is he as weird as they say he is?”
Jensen sped up a bit to catch up with Jared. They were just warming up, but Jared had four inches on Jensen, and it made running cross country a bit difficult. It wasn’t the season, but they liked to keep in shape.
“What? Who said that?” Jensen had only met Misha the one time, but they saw each other quite a bit when Jensen left for school or when Misha was taking out the trash. Misha always had a smile for him, and Jensen always smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.
“Just Sam from the bar. I guess he went in there, and she asked him out. She said the date was awkward.”
“Misha’s twenty-one?” Jensen tried to ask nonchalantly. Apparently it worked.
“Nah, he’s twenty-four. Sam said he’s a photographer for National Geographic or something.”
Jensen let out a sigh, glad for the pace they were keeping. Jensen knew that Misha was older; he just hadn’t realized how much . But really, there was no point in being sad about it. Misha had gone out on a date with a woman, so Jensen was probably not his type.
“Dude. Where you at?”
“Sorry?”
“I was asking you about Katie’s party later. Did you want to go?”
“Ugh, no, its cool. You go. I know you’ve been waiting for the right time to ask Gen out.”
“Thanks, man.”
They spent the rest of the run in silence, Jared probably thinking about Gen and Jensen cursing the fact that he was only seventeen.
***
Jensen threw his book down. Obviously studying was not in the cards for tonight. He grabbed his jacket and headed out into his backyard.
The night wasn’t as cold as it should have been, but he could still see his breath as he sat on the steps of the porch.
“Nice night.”
Jensen startled and scanned the horizon finally setting on eyes that moved out of the shadows.
“Misha?”
“Sorry, I just… it's too quiet in my grandma’s house. I needed out.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
Misha wandered over and sat down next to Jensen. They sat in silence until Misha’s stomach rumbled.
“So where can one get some decent grub in this town at this hour?” Misha stood up and offered his hand to Jensen who took it promptly, no hesitation.
“Come on," Jensen said. "I’ll show you.”
***
Three hours, two cheeseburgers, and one order of fries later, Jensen found himself in Misha’s car with his tongue down Misha’s throat and Misha’s hands gripping his ass. Jensen finally pulled away in the desperate need for air, and he tried to catch his breath as his hands made for Misha’s belt buckle.
“Wait. Wait. I can’t," Misha said suddenly. "We shouldn’t do this.”
“What?” Jensen’s brain was trying to catch up to Misha’s words.
“Look. I like you, Jensen, but Jesus, you’re only seventeen. God, I’m a fucking pervert; what is wrong with me?”
“Nothing, nothing . I promise.” Jensen whispered against his lips breathlessly. “I want you, too.”
“Okay, okay. How long ‘til you’re eighteen?”
If today was January seventeenth… “Less than two months, on March first.”
“Yes. Okay. Then March 1st. Mr. Ackles? Will you go out on a date with me on March first?
“Yes. Yes. I’d love to.”