Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His hair is sizzling. Little sparks keep hitting his scalp and burning him.

“It won’t hurt, but we’ll spray you down just in case,” the hair and makeup lady had said as she sprayed water into his hair. Fucking liar.

He doesn’t flinch. He can’t. There are devices strapped to his chest that keep bursting like gunpowder, and Misha is pretty sure it’s exactly what being shot feels like. He stares straight ahead and tries to think about anything other than his burning hair and bursting chest.

The other two actors in the scene are on the other side of the barn aiming shotguns at him, pretending to shoot. Despite his very real pain, Misha has to hold back a laugh. He thinks pantomiming is the most ridiculous thing about acting.

It’s going to be a long day.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks for that.”

“Cut!”

An artisan comes up to Misha and starts “styling” his hair. Really, she’s just making it look as messy and ridiculous as possible. They had sat him in a chair for an hour this morning and flat-ironed every strand of hair on his now fried head. The result was particularly absurd.

He looks over her shoulder and sees the guy who plays Dean—Jensen Ackles—making a strange face and mouthing something to one of the cameramen. Ackles’ eyes then flick toward Misha, his head tilting slightly in his direction. Misha glares at him until he makes eye contact, and Ackles ducks his head in embarrassment.

What an asshole, Misha thinks with no real malice to back it up. He’s just being self-conscious, believing that the star of this cringe-worthy television show actually cares enough to judge him. It’s not a big deal. He’ll get over it in a few minutes anyway. He’s used to being the guest star, the one-and-done, the guy whose name nobody remembers the second his contract ends.

“You’re auditioning for the role of a demon,” they had told him. “It’s a five-episode arc that will conclude with your demise.”

He got the script, he memorized the lines. It wasn’t until the role had been formally offered to him that they told him that the demon thing was a lie. He was going to be an angel, the first angel ever on Supernatural.

(It wasn’t until later that he would find out that Castiel wasn’t actually the first angel introduced on Supernatural. He was just the first one the narrative revealed immediately as an angel. Richard Speight Jr. would brag about being the actual first for years down the road. It would become a lame joke among the actors.)

They’ve only done two takes of Castiel’s big entrance. The director is trying to figure out how best to angle the part where Dean stabs Castiel in the chest.

The first thing they try is a trick knife that shatters upon contact with Castiel’s coat. Misha thinks it’s a cool idea and wonders how the props people made it. That is, until Jensen Ackles shoves it at his chest and hits Misha so hard he’s probably going to get a bruise over his heart. And it shatters lamely, like dust instead of steel.

“Oh shit, did I hurt you?” Jensen Ackles asks, staring at Misha’s chest with concern in his eyes.

Misha clears his throat and shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Ackles doesn’t look convinced, but they move on. The director decides that the best course of action is to put a camera behind Misha so that his shoulder blocks the blade. That way, Ackles can stop the knife right before he gets to Misha’s chest and the effect will still work.

Misha braces himself to get hit again, but this take Ackles swings the knife down and stops right before hitting him at all. The movement of his hand is perfect, and he jerks it so that it looks like a blade literally went through Misha’s chest.

An actor who’s actually good at pantomiming. That’s one in a million. And Misha certainly doesn’t include himself in that list.

The director comes back over once again and talks to Ackles, and Ackles surprisingly says that he messed up the movement and can do better on the next take. Misha feels a sense of dread low in his gut. This guy is a whole new level of intimidating.

Not only is he incredibly attractive, but he also seems to take his job seriously. He commits on every goddamn take, and he’s unafraid to speak up to the director when he thinks something isn’t right. Along with feeling intimidated, Misha's vaguely jealous. He wonders what it would feel like to be the star of a television show, to know that the show would literally cease to exist if he decided to quit one day. Jensen Ackles gets to do whatever the fuck he wants because he can get away with whatever the fuck he wants. Misha has never known what that luxury is like.

(He’ll get back to the “incredibly attractive” thing later. It’s not something he was flippantly casting to the side in favor of analyzing Ackles’ work ethic. He is definitely, acutely, worryingly aware of how goddamn attractive his scene partner is.)

On the third try, Misha messes up his own pantomiming and somehow makes it look like Ackles hit him with a curved blade. Ackles smiles at him and reassures him that he's doing fine, but Misha still feels like an idiot. Getting fired on day one. That would be something else.

After a particularly long take, Ackles immediately breaks eye contact with Misha and walks over to the second A.D. Misha watches him as he flips through a script and drinks a bottle of water and whispers with the A.D. They look over at Misha with suspicious smiles on their faces. Misha has to lie to himself and pretend like they aren’t talking about him. He became an expert at that in grade school, but he hadn’t had to use the skill in quite a few years. He thought he was just being self-conscious before, but now he knows for sure. Jensen Ackles is talking about him to crewmembers.

Misha is staring down at his shoes when Ackles returns, and so he’s surprised to find a water bottle being held out to him.

“You keep clearing your throat, so I figured…” Ackles explains a bit shyly, like he’s afraid Misha might bite.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Ackles furrows his brow and tilts his head, but he doesn’t say anything else before the slate drops again.

(It isn’t until later, much later, that Misha will learn the reason for Ackles’ confusion. Misha’s response was the first time he spoke in his regular speaking voice in front of his costar. The two of them will laugh about it at some point. One day, Misha will forget that he hated his first day on set and that the bulk of that hatred was directed at one Jensen Ross Ackles. One day, they will laugh.)

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

Like a fucking idiot, Misha glances down at the floor to make sure he’s hitting his mark. Ackles blinks in annoyance, and Misha cringes at his mistake. Which, of course, makes him mess up his next line.

“Cut!”

Misha stares down at the mark and mutters to himself, “Why the hell do I have to be this close to you?”

“Hmm?” Ackles asks.

“Oh, um. We’re just standing really close together in this scene, aren’t we? Like, uncomfortably close.”

Ackles shrugs as he takes a pull from his bottled water. He hands the bottle to a P.A. and says, “I’m sure there’s a reason for it. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great.”

Misha is thrown off guard by the compliment, but not because it was unexpected. More because it sounded like something Ackles just says to people to get them to shut up and do the scene. Who does this guy think he is?

(On the other hand, maybe it was genuine. Maybe Jensen Ackles is actually nice? Who the fuck knows.)

“Hey. You OK?” Ackles asks gruffly.

When Misha meets his eyes, there is no question of his sincerity this time. Ackles really is concerned about Misha, a person he met an hour ago and who he will forget about in a few weeks’ time. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Ackles furrows his brow and tilts his head as if trying to figure Misha out, but then the slate drops once more and they continue on with the scene.

“What’s the matter?” Misha instinctively tilts his head, the same way Ackles just did to him moments ago. Before he continues, he unfurrows his brow so he’s not totally copying his costar’s mannerisms. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

Ackles blinks, scans Misha’s face, clenches his jaw, swallows. It all happens in a split second, and once again Misha feels incredibly intimidated. “Why’d you do it?”

“Because God commanded it.” He says it too fast, doesn’t look directly at Ackles, accidentally licks his lips.

What a fucking disaster.

When the take ends, Ackles smirks and looks down at the ground. Misha wishes he knew what was going through his head, but it would probably be impolite to ask.

“Hey, Jensen, what are you thinking about?”

“Just how much you fucking suck at this. Can’t wait for your guest spot to be over.”

One of the A.D.’s calls for 10, and Misha looks around lamely as people disperse. Jim Beaver gets up off the floor and startles Misha. He had forgotten he was still here.

“Hey, come to craft services with us,” Ackles says with Beaver by his side.

Misha stupidly looks over his shoulder to see if the actors really are extending the offer to him and not somebody else.

Ackles huffs a laugh and gestures for Misha to follow. “Dude, c’mon. We don’t bite.”

As they walk the several yards to craft services, Misha doesn’t speak. He hangs back a little and listens to Ackles and Beaver complain about the hours they’ve been working lately.

Wow. Riveting. Working actors complaining about work.

At one point, Ackles looks over at Misha with wide eyes but when he notices Misha staring back at him he averts his gaze and rubs the back of his neck. Misha continues looking at him, and once again he wonders what’s going through his head.

“Why the hell do you care?” his wife would say if he decides to tell her how unnerved he feels by Jensen Ackles.

“He’s a coworker, and I think he hates me.”

“So? It’s not like it would be the first time someone hates you.”

“Misha.”

“What?” Misha asks, snapping back to reality and realizing that Ackles and Beaver are both staring at him.

“I asked if this is your first time in Vancouver,” Ackles says, sounding a bit frustrated. Who knows how long he’s been trying to get Misha’s attention.

“No, it’s not. My wife and I came here on vacation once.”

“Really? Vancouver?”

They all grab a cardboard cup of coffee and start walking back toward the stage.

“We’ve been a lot of places.” Don’t be a pretentious asshole, you annoying fuck. “My wife—she’s adventurous. She takes me a lot of places.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“Yeah, but what the hell’s in Vancouver?” Ackles asks. “I mean, maybe I’m biased because I’ve worked here for too long.”

Beaver laughs and mumbles something under his breath. Probably something like, “You can say that again.”

Working actors lamenting the mundaneness of their consistent job. Amazing.

“There are, um, interesting people in Vancouver.”

“That sounds suspicious,” Beaver says.

Misha doesn’t answer. They arrive back at the stage and throw away their empty cups, and the conversation is forgotten. Good thing, too. Misha really didn’t want to explain to these strangers that he and his wife went to Vancouver in order to research whether it would be a good place to have threesomes. (It is.)

After just one more take, the director cuts Jim Beaver for the day. Beaver shakes Ackles’ hand and gives Misha a curt nod before leaving the stage.

So now it’s just him and Jensen Ackles.

The more times they do the scene, the deeper Misha decides to pitch his voice. He doesn’t exactly know why he decided that Castiel would talk as if he was constantly garbling rocks, but he’s already regretting the choice. It scratches his throat and is hard to maintain. On one take he considers using his natural voice, but as he opens his mouth to speak he realizes that would be fucking absurd. The fact that they cut Beaver for the day means they’ve already got the dailies they want. If he suddenly changed the portrayal of his character, he would ruin everything.

So instead, he pitches his voice even lower.

Ackles keeps smirking and looking down at the ground between takes, and Misha just fucking knows this guy is secretly laughing at him. He has to be.

The whole world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, Misha.

Their day comes to a close around 1 a.m. As crewmembers strike the set, Ackles slaps Misha on the back and tells him he did a good job.

“Thank you,” Misha responds lamely.

Ackles smiles with his teeth, and then he winks at Misha before walking away.

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

“Hey, how’s the new guy?”

“Hm?”

“The new guy. What’s he like?”

“Oh. Um.” Jensen shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich.

Jared huffs a laugh. “Dude.”

They round the corner toward their trailers, Jensen tossing his sandwich wrapper in a trashcan as they go. “He’s really nice, but…” He tries to stifle a laugh and fails. “I can’t figure out what the hell he’s doing on camera.”

“What, he’s a bad actor?”

“No! I mean…maybe. He’s just really strange.”

“Strange like how?”

“I don’t know! Strange. He was doing this—he talks really weird. He talked in this really deep voice. I thought it was a joke at first.”

“Like, it’s his actual voice?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Character choice I guess? Don’t know, the dude’s weird.”

"Did you even talk to him? You're giving me nothing."

Jensen balks at the suggestion. "Of course I talked to him."

"More than just saying your lines?"

"Dude. C'mon, give me some credit. You haven't met the guy, you don't know what he's like."

"Well apparently you don't know what he's like either."

"No, that's not—just forget it."

A beat passes before Jared asks, “Did you like him at least?”

Jensen shrugs again. “He’s nice. But I don’t really have to like him, do I? He’s only gonna be here for a few weeks.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I’ve never heard you say that about anybody. He just rub you the wrong way or something?”

As they pass a grip truck, Jensen’s eyes lock on Misha Collins. He’s sitting on the back of the truck eating yogurt, staring straight ahead and moving his spoon slowly between the bowl and his mouth. One leg is tucked under his other, and he’s wearing an oversized purple and blue plaid sweater straight out of the early ‘90s.

“Dude, that’s him, that’s him,” Jensen whispers, smacking Jared in the chest.

“You sure he’s not method?” Jared responds as they slowly walk toward Collins.

“How the hell should I know?” Jensen spits back. “Hey, man,” he greets when they get close enough to the truck. “This is Jared. Jared, Misha.”

“Nice to meet you, man,” Jared says, holding his hand out for Collins to shake.

Collins fumbles to get his yogurt and spoon in one hand so he can return the handshake. “Hi,” is all he says.

“Well, um. I’ll see you around,” Jared replies awkwardly.

Collins gives him a tightlipped but genuine smile. “Yes, I’ll be around. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

They wave their goodbyes and continue walking toward their trailers.

“‘Don’t let me keep you’? How could he be keeping us when he wasn’t even saying anything?” Jensen comments when they’re a safe distance away.

“You’re right, that dude’s weird.”

“Do you think he heard us talking about him?”

“Probably?”

“Great,” Jensen says with a sigh.

When they get to their trailers, Jared slaps Jensen on the back and laughs at him one more time before they split off. Jensen thinks about asking what the hell that was for, but he’s not that petty.

Honestly, until Jared asked about him, Jensen hadn’t really given Misha Collins a second thought. They had only filmed together for one day. Jensen was definitely curious to see how the character of Castiel would translate to screen, but that had less to do with his curiosity over Collins and more to do with his curiosity over Collins’ weird performance. Seriously, what is he doing on camera?

The next time Jensen’s called to set, it’s starting to get dark outside. He throws on Dean’s three layers of clothes and exits his trailer, and for the second time today he locks eyes on Misha Collins.

The dude’s walking by the trailers and peering at them as if he’s waiting to see who comes out. The second he makes eye contact with Jensen, he walks faster.

Jensen watches him go and for some stupid reason he has the urge to call out to him: Hey, weirdo, where the hell you going? What’s up with your sweater? When is Castiel getting killed off again?

He doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, he stares at Collins’ retreating figure and studies the way he carries himself. His shoulders are slightly hunched, and his arms hardly swing at all with his gait. Jensen noticed the hunch when they were filming—maybe he really is method.

As Collins turns a corner, Jensen snaps out of his trance and wonders what possessed him to stare at the guy for so long. He looks over his shoulder and to his right and left, but it seems like nobody saw him staring. Good. He doesn’t need anybody thinking he actually cares about the new guy.

He and Jared film well into the night, and by the time Jensen gets home he’s completely forgotten about Misha Collins.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jensen mutters as he watches the dailies for “Lazarus Rising.”

Kim gave him a weird look when he asked if he could see the dailies for the barn scene, so he told him the truth about the fact that he was curious to see Misha Collins’ performance.

“You thought he was gonna be terrible, didn’t you?” Kim asks while Castiel pulls a knife out of his chest on the screen in front of them.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” Jensen responds honestly. His eyes are glued to the screen.

“The two of you were amazing together the other day.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Jensen just grunts.

“You’ve got chemistry. Shame he’ll only be around for a handful of episodes.”

“Chemistry? Really?”

Kim nods vigorously. “Oh, yeah. Big time. Might have something to do with the fact that you two don’t really know each other. Keep it that way. It works great on film.”

“Hm.”

It’s not hard to follow that advice. Collins is only in one scene in episode two, so he’s not even on set for several days. For most of the week, Jensen gets to spend his time laughing at Jared as he tries to befriend the new girl who’s playing Ruby. Jensen didn’t get the chance to work with her much in her first episode, but Jared told him all about her.

“I tried to introduce myself, but she kind of blew me off,” Jared had said.

“She probably hates you.”

“Why would she hate me? All I did was try to introduce myself.”

“Whoa, dude, I was joking. You should maybe lighten up a little.”

Jared went on to describe how cute it was when she messed up and how great she was to work with and how amazing her smile was. Jensen listened attentively and tried very hard not to laugh at his best friend. He was so ridiculous when he had a crush.

As it happens, it’s Friday afternoon before Misha Collins is back on set. Jensen spots the trench coat as he’s hanging out at craft services, and he has the insane urge to follow Collins. He doesn’t act on it.

“Hey,” Jared greets from behind him.

Jensen jumps. Jared slaps a hand to his back.

“You alright, man?”

“What? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jared laughs and gives him a strange look. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘we’? You’re not slated right now.”

“Uh, yeah I am?” Jared starts walking toward stage four, so Jensen follows him. “I have to be asleep on the floor while you and Misha do your scene.”

“That seems like a waste of time.”

“Same as sleeping in my trailer except more productive. A productive nap. I’m not complaining.”

Jensen can’t argue with that. 

When they arrive on set, it’s bustling with crewmembers preparing the scene. Jared is whisked away to his mark, and Jensen spots Collins gargling water in Bobby Singer’s kitchen. He’s holding a script and a water bottle in one hand and is the only one in costume. 

“You don’t have to be in costume for rehearsal, man,” Jensen says by way of greeting. He leans up against the counter and crosses his arms.

After swallowing his water, Collins responds, “The wardrobe trailer is kind of far away. I didn’t want to have to go all the way back.”

“Mm. Fair.”

“But I guess I look like a real schmuck.” He looks down at himself and picks at the hem of Cas’ coat.

Jensen huffs a laugh, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, looks Collins up and down and wonders why Castiel’s costume fits him so poorly.

“What? Is my fly undone?” Collins asks. He sounds more accusatory than self-conscious.

“Hm? No! Sorry,” Jensen mumbles. Heat rises to his cheeks.

The awkwardness of the situation is diffused by a P.A. telling them to go to their first marks for the scene. Rehearsals are a joke. Jensen silently prays that Collins doesn’t try to take it seriously. It’s always awkward for guest stars that take themselves too seriously.

“OK, if you two will just stay on your marks. You can say your lines, not say your lines. Doesn’t matter,” the first A.D. announces as they shuffle into place.

Jensen looks over to Bobby Singer’s living room and shouts, “Jared? You awake?”

Jared rolls over onto his back and gives him a thumbs up.

When Jensen turns back toward Collins, he finds him squinting curiously over at Jared. Method. Fucking great.

“Mr. Ackles, could you please go to your first mark in the living room? We’re starting at the top,” the A.D. corrects as she flips through a stack of papers.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, sorry,” Jensen says in embarrassment as he walks over to Jared.

He never messes that shit up. He looks over his shoulder to see if Collins is laughing at him, but he's just leaned up against the counter examining his fingernails.

“Hey. You alright?” Jared asks again once Jensen is on his correct mark.

“Dude, quit asking me that.”

Jared rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

After about 10 minutes of standing in the same place, the A.D. tells Jensen to join Collins in the kitchen. He takes his time walking so that the camera guys can gauge his path, and he tries not to feel unnerved by Collins watching his every move.

“Excellent job with the witnesses,” Collins says in that ridiculously deep voice as soon as Jensen is standing next to him.

“What?” Jensen asks.

“I’m, uh, saying my lines?” Collins responds in a much more normal register.

“Oh. Um, you don’t have to do that.”

Collins furrows his brow and scans Jensen’s face. “Do you not want to run lines?”

“No, it’s not—look, we just don’t—alright, fine, let’s run the lines.”

Collins adjusts his stance, and his eyebrows arch up in surprise. Jensen considers apologizing for being short with him, but he really doesn’t care that much.

So instead, he switches into character and gruffly says, “You were hip to all this?”

Collins blinks back into character. “I was, uh, made aware.”

“Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. You know, I don’t remember the line so just keep going.”

After a beat, Collins says, “Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I’m a soldier.”

“Yeah? Then why didn’t you fight?”

“O…K, guys, that was great,” the A.D. says as she walks up to join them. “Can’t wait to see you do the real thing later. For now, though, we just need to do that first part again. You don’t have to say your lines.”

Jensen gives Collins a pointed look, but Collins isn’t even paying attention to him because he's too busy nodding at the A.D. He then looks down at the floor to make sure he’s still on his mark. Jensen bites his tongue. He hates when people can’t find their fucking marks.

The next few minutes are very uncomfortable.

They stand in silence and accidentally make eye contact at least a dozen times in five minutes. Jensen’s lips start feeling chapped so he nervously licks them every few seconds. Collins notices and glances down at Jensen’s mouth every time his tongue shoots out. Despite all of the attention that comes with minor fame, Jensen’s never felt more on display in his entire life than he does in this moment. He swallows a lump in his throat and instinctively looks down at Collins’ mouth. The guy's got perpetually chapped lips, and now that Jensen’s noticed he’s never going to not notice.

“Are you OK?” Collins asks gruffly once they’ve moved to their final marks.

“Everybody keeps asking me that today. Do I seem like something’s wrong?”

“Um, I don’t really know. I’m just being polite.”

“Right. You don’t know me from Adam. You wouldn’t happen to have any gum on you, would you?”

Collins deliberately looks down at himself and then back up at Jensen with a patronizing expression. “No. I don’t.”

“Costume. Right. Look, when we do the real thing let’s try to get this done as quickly as possible, hmm?”

“OK. Sure,” Collins responds skeptically. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back.

He probably thinks Jensen is a jerk, but Jensen still doesn’t care. He’s tired and just wants to go home.

When rehearsal ends, the P.A. informs them that they have an hour before filming begins. Collins mumbles something about not getting into costume earlier if he had known they would have a whole hour, and then he walks away from Jensen without saying another word to him.

Jensen tries not to let it bother him.

“Dude, what the hell just happened?” Jared asks as he and Jensen walk to wardrobe together.

“What?”

“Misha looked like he wanted to kill you.”

“What? No he didn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t think he likes you.”

Jensen groans and throws his arms up. “Who cares if he likes me?”

A beat passes before Jared says, “Um, it sounds like you care.”

“Shut up.”

When they return to the stage, there are a lot more people bustling about than before. Even so, Jensen immediately spots Collins having what looks like a very serious discussion with Phil Sgriccia. He stands off to the side and stares at them.

“Dude. What is wrong with you?” Jared accuses.

Jensen snaps out of his trance and turns toward Jared. “Hmm?”

“I mean, do you want me to get you his number? See if he’s interested in sexual favors? I can be your wingman, you know.”

Jensen punches Jared in the chest a little too aggressively. “Shut up, dude.”

Jared laughs and presses a hand to his chest. “He’s cute. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Just as Jared finishes his sentence, Misha Collins walks up to them and looks awkwardly past Jensen.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Jared asks casually.

Collins makes eye contact with Jensen but points past him. “Um, I’m just trying to get a bottle of water.”

“Oh. Sorry, man,” Jensen says awkwardly as he shuffles out of the way.

He and Collins maintain eye contact as he reaches past him and grabs a water bottle. Once he’s out of his personal space, Jensen realizes he had been holding his breath.

“Thanks,” Collins says, and then he turns on his heel and heads back to stage.

“Dude,” Jared says.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not convinced. ‘Cause if there’s a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?”

“The Lord works—”

“If you say ‘mysterious ways,’ so help me, I will kick your ass.”

Despite it not being his coverage, Collins slowly lifts his arms and looks away from Jensen.

Jensen scans his face, licks his lips and tries to regain his footing. It’s way too easy to think of Misha Collins as his character. Which is terrifying because Castiel is fucking terrifying.

After the scene ends, Phil comes over to Jensen and tells him that his reactions were perfect and that he needs to keep doing what he’s doing on every take. Jensen nods along and resists the urge to tell him that he wasn’t even acting.

Maybe Manners had a point. Maybe they really do have chemistry.

At the end of the night, Collins looks completely exhausted. Jared headed back to his trailer hours ago, so it’s just Jensen and Collins still left on set. Before Collins can sneak away without saying anything, Jensen idiotically grabs him by the sleeve of his coat.

“Wait. Hey. Um,” he starts intelligently. Collins looks down at his hand, so Jensen quickly lets go of his sleeve. “Um. Great work today.”

“Thanks?” Collins replies hesitantly.

“If there’s, uh, anything I can do for you, you just—just let me know, alright?”

Collins lifts his chin and cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be sure to do that, Jensen.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Misha. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

Before he turns to leave, Collins smiles and winks at Jensen.

Chapter Text

“Your whole life is about to change.”

Misha blinks. It takes him a solid 10 seconds to turn toward Sera Gamble and ask, “What?”

“Your life. It’s about to change forever. Just wait.”

Gamble pats him on the back before walking over to the script supervisor.

What the fuck. To be fair, it’s the first time Misha has even seen this television show, so he has no idea what to expect. It was actually a little nerve-wracking to be invited to the season four premiere party. He was hoping to sit in his shitty hotel room and judge the show privately without the eyes of his new coworkers on him. And maybe without the pressure of Sera Gamble telling him that this was going to change his entire life. His entire life? His entire life. Sure.

About 30 of the writers and producers gather in the offices to watch the premiere together, so maybe nobody will be paying attention to Misha at all. He takes a seat in the back between a couple of writers and keeps the conversation purely small talk until the episode airs.

Even hotter on TV, Misha thinks after Dean Winchester digs himself out of his grave.

He looks around warily, just in case there are some mind readers in the room.

When Castiel’s real voice shatters the windows of a bar and forces Dean Winchester to his knees, Misha feels completely justified in his decision to pitch his voice down low for the role.

Of course, when his scene finally comes on he regrets everything. His voice sounds stupid as hell. Castiel’s presence is completely unimpressive. It’s no wonder Dean calls him a holy tax accountant. Also, his hair looks dumb.

The guy to his left shifts in his seat and clears his throat. Oh god, he’s bored. This is boring.

During the commercial break, Kripke and Manners both sneak over to Misha and use words like “game changer” and “iconic” and other nonsense that goes in one ear and out the other.

He doesn’t want to watch the rest, but.

The intensity of the interaction between Castiel and Dean is surprising. Ackles is a fucking pro, but Misha thinks he holds his own next to him. Maybe it’s the narcissism talking when the word “chemistry” rings around in his brain. There’s definitely something there. Misha hopes he’s not the only person who notices it.

When the episode comes to a close, everyone claps. Misha finds it a little silly, but he joins in anyway.

When he gets back to his hotel that night, he resists the urge to go online and look up reviews. He knows Supernatural isn’t a critically acclaimed television show and that it will never be taken seriously by anybody, but that doesn’t mean people don’t talk about it online. In fact, he did some research when he was first cast and discovered that Supernatural is more popular on the internet than it is in real life. Fans are very much invested in the lives of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Misha has the insane thought that he would like to be a part of that. It would be cool if people talked about him online. If they cared about him.

He shakes the thought away and decides that it’s time to go to bed.

Five episodes. You’re doing five episodes, and then nobody will ever remember you existed. Five. Episodes.

“Hey, Misha. Great work in the premiere.”

A hand slaps Misha’s back, and he turns to find who he thinks is the writer of the current episode they’re filming.

“Um, thank you,” Misha responds awkwardly.

“I’m Jeremy. I don’t think we’ve met.”

They shake hands, and Misha tries not to be weirded out by how clammy Carver’s palm is.

“You have a fan base already,” Carver continues with a smile. “It’s probably too early to say, but I think you might be a fan favorite.”

“That’s intimidating.”

“It’s a good thing. Keep up the good work.”

Misha smiles and nods in response. Jeremy Carver walks away.

Huh. Maybe Misha should google the show and see how people are responding to season four. He might’ve ignored Manners and Kripke the other night, but “fan favorite” doesn’t sound so scary. At least, not as much as the phrase “life changing.”

At craft services later that morning, Misha finds himself standing in line behind Jensen Ackles. He feels like he should acknowledge him with some sort of greeting, but he comes up blank. When Ackles turns with his plate of food and spots Misha behind him, he gives him a curt nod and a tightlipped smile. He then quickly walks away.

OK. Cool.

They have several scenes to film together this week, Jared Padalecki is hardly in the episode at all, and Ackles is carrying the weight of the whole episode on his shoulders. It’s probably going to be a hell week for him. Misha is willing to do whatever he can to make it easier on him - if he had any clue what that entailed. And it’s not like Ackles would ever ask for that or anything. Misha thinks his best course of action is probably just to stay out of his way.

“Hey, Misha, congratulations.”

Misha abruptly turns and has to back up a step in order to make eye contact with Padalecki. He’s standing way too close, and he’s fucking enormous.

“Um. Thanks? But what did I do?”

Padalecki laughs and runs a hand through his ridiculous hair. “Your first episode. It was great. Castiel is pretty badass. I hope you stick around a little longer.” He jovially hits Misha in the shoulder. It hurts.

After he walks away, Misha wonders if the compliment was genuine or patronizing. He thought Padalecki was a pompous jerk when he met him, but he’s starting to think he was wrong. He might actually be nice.

It takes one more crewmember complimenting him for Misha to finally bite the bullet and look himself up.

In some twisted turn of events, the first thing he finds is a work of fan fiction.

It’s a story about Dean Winchester meeting Castiel and falling in love with him. Except at the end of the story, the author reveals that it wasn’t really Castiel. It was the man whom Castiel is using as a vessel. At the end of the story, Dean and the man end up together and Castiel leaves.

Well, that’s a load of bullshit. Where’s Castiel’s happy ending? Why did he get the short end of the stick? Why would Dean Winchester fall in love with a man when he’s in the presence of an angel?

Misha shakes himself out of…whatever that was, and then he clicks on an actual review of the premiere.

Holy shit, people actually like Castiel. Misha isn’t the type to torture himself by reading asinine comments on articles, but it’s hard to ignore them when they’re overwhelmingly positive.

I hope he becomes a regular character.

I don’t know who that actor is who plays Castiel, but he’s really hot.

Dean and Castiel Dean and Castiel Dean and Castiel Dean and Castiel

It seems like the majority opinion is that the show should offer more scenes with Dean and Castiel interacting with one another. The audience really enjoys their dynamic for some reason.

Chemistry, Misha thinks as he shuts his laptop.

The next time he’s on set with Ackles, he considers asking him if he’s heard the reviews. Misha is extremely curious to know what he thinks about it, but he’s too intimidated to actually ask. And, again, there’s that whole thing about Ackles having a hell week of filming.

They hardly speak to each other during rehearsal, and by day two Ackles is already yawning between takes. Weirdly, it’s Ackles who brings up the premiere. They get a 10-minute coffee break in the middle of the afternoon. Ackles stalks over to Misha with a furrow in his brow.

“You hear that people like us on screen together?”

“I heard. Should I be concerned?”

Ackles shrugs. “Why would you be concerned? It’s good that people like you. You might get more episodes.”

“Who says I want more episodes?” Jesus, you fucking asshole what the fuck.

Just as Ackles opens his mouth to speak, Misha cuts him off. “I’m kidding. Of course I want more episodes.”

Ackles studies Misha like he’s trying to figure out what he’s going to say next. When Misha doesn’t say anything else, Ackles responds, “Well, uh, I guess it depends on your second episode. We’ll see how that goes.”

It sounds like a threat. Misha swallows a lump in his throat. They drink their coffee in silence. What a fucking train wreck.

The day goes from awkward to more awkward as they film a scene in which Castiel has to say the line, “What were you dreaming about?” after Dean has woken up from a very obvious nightmare. The director and first A.D. spend about 10 minutes just trying to decide where Castiel should be placed in the scene.

Misha is still working under the impression that Castiel has no sense of personal space and no concept of social graces. That’s why he doesn’t really think much of it when he turns to Kim Manners and says, “What if I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him to wake up?”

The only betrayal of Manners’ composure is a raise of his eyebrow. “That’s, um, a little…”

“Gay,” Ackles chimes in from the bed. “The word you’re looking for is ‘gay.’”

Misha whips his head around toward Ackles, who winks at him in turn. Heat rises to Misha’s cheeks. What game is this asshole playing?

After a beat, Manners uncrosses his arms, claps his hands and announces, “You know what, let’s try it. See if it works.”

Misha looks at Ackles, looks at Manners, looks at Ackles, looks at the first A.D. The most he gets is a shrug from Ackles.

So. Gay it is.

They don’t even try it any other way.

Misha notices something as they film his coverage later that week. The main camera is just behind Ackles’ shoulder, facing Misha dead-on, and yet Ackles is fully engaged in the scene. He reacts to everything as Dean, and it makes it really easy to fall into the role of Cas. After a particularly good take, Misha smiles softly and looks down at his feet in embarrassment.

“You alright?” Ackles asks in a deeper register than his normal speaking voice.

“Um, yes. It’s just nice of you to stay in character during my coverage. You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” he answers seriously, like it’s the most important thing in the world. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“No! No, you’re not. Thank you. For—you know, for staying in character. I appreciate it.” Stupidly, and because this is apparently a thing they do, Misha ends his stammering with a wink.

Now Ackles is the one hiding a smile.

Very interesting.

They’re released around 9 p.m. As the work lights come on Ackles slaps a hand to Misha’s shoulder and tells him “good job.”

“Thank you. You work this many hours every day?”

Ackles tips his head back and lets out a very satisfying laugh. “Yeah, most days it’s me and Jared pounding pavement for 12 hours.” He points to the crewmembers milling about. “Obviously we don’t work as hard as these guys, though, so I can’t complain.”

One of the crewmembers shouts, “Yeah! At least you get your 12 hours!”

Ackles laughs and flips the guy off.  He then turns back to Misha and says, “Anyway, great work today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

On his way to the wardrobe trailer, a P.A. nervously stops Misha and tells him that Jared Padalecki had a message for him before he left for the day.

“Um, OK? What was it?” Misha asks in confusion.

“He said he doesn’t have your phone number, which is why he didn’t just call you. He was wondering if you wanted to ‘grab a beer’ after work tomorrow.”

“Oh. How am I supposed to respond to this message if neither of us have each other’s phone numbers and we’re not working any of the same scenes this week?”

The girl looks like a deer in the headlights, but she manages to say, “He said to come by his trailer tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. Thanks I guess.” Realizing he sounded short with her, he tacks on, “I’ll be sure to give him my phone number so that you don’t have to do this again. Thank you.”

She smiles awkwardly and scurries away. Misha watches her go and thinks that she must be fresh out of college. She seems in over her head, but then again so is he. He’s the new guy on the set of a TV show where the actors not only get along with the crewmembers but actually talk to and joke with them. This is a well-oiled machine, and Misha thinks they probably don’t take too kindly to people showing up late to the party and stirring the pot.

Not that he’s stirred the pot. Yet. He just wants to do his five goddamn episodes and move back to L.A.

The next morning, Misha grabs some yogurt from craft services and then walks around aimlessly in search of Jared Padalecki’s trailer. He passes Ackles, who just looks at him curiously and doesn’t say anything. Misha waves at him and doesn’t ask where Padalecki’s trailer is. He’s not sure if he’ll ever know how to interact with Ackles in a consistently friendly, or at the very least cordial, way.

When he finally gets to the trailer, he suddenly feels nervous. He’s not very good at making friends without his wife’s help.

After he knocks, Padalecki shouts for him to come in. The door is a bit jammed, and he tries not to break it as he makes his way inside. Padalecki’s trailer is spacious and well lived in. Misha touches the granite in the kitchen area to see if it’s real. It sure looks real. 

“Hey, man, how you doing?” Padalecki asks as he joins Misha in the kitchen. He pulls two water bottles out of the fridge and tosses one to Misha.

Misha fumbles and drops it and tries to cover his blunder by quickly picking it up off the floor. He almost hits his head on the underside of the granite on his way back up. “Um, thanks.”

Padalecki laughs good-naturedly. “So, uh, if you get done at a reasonable hour tonight we should get drinks together. You know, if you want.”

“That would be nice. But, um, you don’t have to try to include me. It’s very nice of you, but we don’t have to pretend like I’m going to be here longer than—”

“Please, it’s nothing.” He waves him off and heads back into the living area. “And I think you’ll be around longer.”

“What?” Misha starts to follow him and then decides against it. He takes a seat on one of the barstools in the kitchen.

“I don’t know, I’ve got a hunch. So get a drink with me. I promise I don’t bite. Hard.”

Misha chokes back a laugh and decides that he likes Jared Padalecki.

“I’ll try to get Jackles to join us,” Padalecki continues. “We live together, so we tend to do pretty much everything together.”

Oh. Oh. “Are you two…?”

Padalecki gives him a confused look before realization dawns on him. “Oh my god, no! Dude. No. We’re not gay. Well, I’m not gay. Jensen’s probably gay. He’s been trying to get in my pants ever since we moved in together. But no, we’re just roommates. It’s easier that way.”

Misha doesn’t respond immediately, mostly because he’s trying to figure out if Padalecki is being serious about Ackles’ sexuality or if he’s the type of person who finds it funny to joke about straight people being gay.

“Dude. Did I break you?” Padalecki asks with a laugh.

“Oh. No. Sorry. I was just thinking. Um, yes, I’m fine if Jensen wants to join us. Or if he doesn’t want to join us, I won’t be offended. Either way is fine with me.”

Padalecki stands and comes over to Misha to slap a hand to his shoulder. “Don’t worry about stepping on anybody’s toes, man. Like I said, we don’t bite.”

He flashes Misha a reassuring smile, and for the first time since he got this job Misha feels at ease. He excuses himself and heads over to wardrobe with a smile on his face.

After another full day of filming, Ackles is more on edge than before. He looks completely drained. Misha wonders how he’s even remembering his lines, let alone acting his ass off. Throughout the day Misha finds himself wanting to reach out to him, comfort him, offer him some kind of support. But he doesn’t, because that’s weird and also Ackles would probably respond poorly to it. Maybe Ackles secretly hates him. Maybe he’s a standoffish jerk. He’s not going to join them for drinks. Surely he has better, more important things to do.

Of course, being proven right isn’t always a good thing. Misha happens to be there when Padalecki asks Ackles if he wants to come out with them, so he sees the “are you kidding me?” look on Ackles’ face at the question.

“I’m beat, dude. Some of us are actually working this week,” he responds bitterly.

Padalecki laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re so important. Go ahead and go home and be gay. We’ll probably have more fun without you anyway.”

OK, definitely the type of person to use ‘gay’ in the wrong context, Misha thinks. He doesn’t get offended easily, so there’s no way he’s going to waste his time “correcting” Padalecki.

“Sorry, guys. I’ll make it up later.” Ackles turns toward Misha and rakes his eyes over his body and back up to his face before saying, “Good work today, Misha. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Um, you’re welcome. And you, too.”

Once Ackles is gone, Padalecki turns a bright smile on Misha. “He’s missing out. C’mon, I’ll take you to the best place in town.”

The “best place in town” is a hole-in-the-wall establishment with a bored bartender who knows Padalecki’s name and drink of choice. As soon as they have their drinks, Padalecki leans over the table and begins firing questions at Misha.

Where are you from, what did you do before this job, how did you get into the business, are you married, what’s your wife like, are you enjoying working on Supernatural, is there anything we can do for you—

Jared Padalecki is relentless but very obviously dedicated to getting to know Misha. It should be intimidating or make Misha feel self-conscious, but instead he feels welcome. Comforted. It’s nice to feel important, and Jared is apparently very good at making people feel important.

After his third beer, Misha asks, “Do you do this with all the guest stars on the show?”

“Do what? Take them out for drinks? God, no. We have too many guests to do that.”

“So then why me?” It’s not a question he would ask without the aid of alcohol.

“I don’t know, you seem cool. And it looks like you’re hanging out for a while, so I thought it’d be good to get to know you.”

“We haven’t even had any scenes together.”

“So? You have plenty with Jackles, and he and I are pretty much the same. Do you want another beer?”

Before Misha can respond in the negative, Jared signals to the bartender that they need two more beers.

“Anyway, you saw the premiere. You’re good. We could use somebody like you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“Jensen and I, uh, work a lot. It kind of sucks being the only two people on a show. I mean, not that I’m complaining. It’s great, and I love it, but sometimes…”

“You wish there were more people taking up your screen time?”

“Yes. Exactly. Getting some time off each week would be nice. Or—having more people to carry the burden would make it easier on everybody. I’m saying I hope they keep you longer than however many episodes you’re supposed to be in.”

“Five. I’m in five.” Misha takes a long pull from his new beer that he didn’t want. “Do you think Jensen will warm up to me if I stay longer?”

Jared gives him a confused look. “Is he being a jerk to you?”

“No. But he’s not here tonight, is he?” Quit being so petty for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, that’s just how he is. He’s shy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Shy? Really?”

“Yeah, you haven’t noticed? Dude says, like, three full sentences per day.”

Misha thinks about his interactions with Jensen and decides that Jared might be right. “Huh,” is all he says.

“Have you met Genevieve yet?”

“Who?”

“She’s a guest star, like you. Well, she has more episodes slated I think. She plays Ruby? The demon?”

“I’ve probably seen her around, but I haven’t—”

“That’s OK, I was just wondering.” Jared looks down at his bottle and picks at the label.

Misha smiles softly. If they were actually friends, he would tease Jared about his crush. Instead, he lets the conversation drop.

When they finally leave the bar, Misha feels better than he has in weeks.

Five episodes. You’re only in five episodes.

The second episode of the season airs, and the audience clamors for more Castiel.

The third episode airs, and the audience goes crazy for the relationship between Castiel and Dean. Misha thinks it’s weird as hell, but he’s also somewhat smug about the fact that he has good chemistry with his insanely hot costar.

Misha flies home to L.A. for a few weeks and goes to the mall and buys the most expensive pair of shoes he’s ever seen in his life. Having money is a novelty, an abstract dream that's never felt close enough to materialize into something concrete. To hold a pair of shoes in his hands and understand that they cost more money than he ever saw in his childhood - it doesn't quite compute in his brain.

(He doesn't wear them. Never takes them out of the box. He returns them two weeks after purchasing them despite the fact that Vicki tells him it's OK.)

When he comes back to film his fourth episode he’s immediately called to the studio to meet with one of the executive producers.

They ask him if he’s willing to do one more episode with them. There was a change in scheduling, and it turns out they could use him for one extra episode later in the season.

It’s a strange combination of excited and disappointed when he leaves the office. On the one hand, one more episode is a good thing. On the other hand, he was hoping to get a lot more episodes.

As Misha’s walking past the trailers, Jared jogs up beside him and says, “Hey, Misha, we missed you the past few weeks.”

“Really?”

Jared laughs and puts an arm around Misha’s shoulders. “C’mon, come hang out with me and Jay.”

“What?”

“Do you like Madden?”

“What?”

Jared pushes the door to his trailer open and gestures for Misha to go in ahead of him. Misha awkwardly steps past him and immediately spots Jensen on the couch holding a controller and furiously pressing buttons. Jared pushes past Misha and hops into an armchair. He pulls out a second controller, and the game on the TV pauses.

“Dude, what the hell?” Jensen accuses.

“You’re not the only person here anymore. Look who I found.”

Jensen turns to Misha then and looks surprised. His eyes scan his body before he says, “Uh, hey, Misha. How was your vacation?”

“Vacation?”

“Well, haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

“Oh. Right. Um, it was fine. I bought some shoes.”

Jensen pointedly looks down at Misha’s beaten up Adidas. Misha clears his throat.

Without another word, Jensen turns back toward the TV and starts a new game. Misha doesn’t know the first thing about video games, so he politely sits on a barstool and watches in silence as the two other men press their buttons and yell at the TV.

“Who’s your team, Misha?” Jared shouts without looking away from the game.

“My what?”

“Your team. Like, football. Do you watch football?”

“Um. I watched the Super Bowl a few years ago.”

That admission makes them simultaneously turn toward each other and have some kind of silent conversation. Misha suddenly feels like he said something very wrong.

“How do you not watch football, dude?” Jensen asks.

“How do you have time to watch nonsense?”

Misha thinks the question sounded too accusatory, but Jensen tilts his head back and laughs so hard that Jared is forced to pause the game. Misha finds himself laughing in response.

Jared stares at his friend with a confused expression, and then he asks Misha, “Dude, what the hell?”

Misha shrugs and tries to hide his own smile.

“It wasn’t even funny, Jay,” Jared says.

Jensen finally composes himself and wipes tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry—that just really tickled me for some reason.”

They resume the game. Misha smiles and looks down at his lap. Eventually, he asks out of politeness, “Who are you guys’ teams?”

They answer in unison, “The Cowboys.”

On day two of filming for the week, Jensen and Misha climb into the back of an SUV and head to a nearby park for the last scene of the episode. They’re quiet on the drive over. Misha keeps sneaking glances at Jensen, but he stays engrossed in his phone for most of the ride.

When they get to the park, they’re whisked off to hair and makeup and then still have to wait an hour before the crew’s ready for them. Feeling bored out of his mind, Misha decides to take a risk and see what happens.

“Do you like your job, Jensen?”

Jensen’s head snaps up from his phone. He frowns curiously at Misha. “‘Course I do. Why?”

A little kid pushes a button on the playground. Water sprays out over the slide and monkey bars. A crewmember runs over and presses the button again to get the sprinkler to stop.

“I don’t know,” Misha says honestly as he watches the fiasco unfold. “I’ve never been on a show longer than a season. I can’t imagine having the same job for so long, playing the same character, sitting around waiting all the time. You don’t ever get tired of it?”

Jensen huffs a laugh and pockets his phone. “Everybody gets tired of their job at some point. Doesn’t matter how much you like it.”

“Mm. Do you enjoy playing Dean?”

“Most of the time. My girlfriend thinks I carry too much of him home with me. I know that sounds stupid, but—”

“It’s not stupid.” Misha lets out a laugh. “Believe it or not, you’re allowed to take your job seriously.”

“Yeah, says the method actor.”

Misha ignores him. “Do you think the crew likes their jobs? They don’t have the luxury of sitting around waiting for things to happen. Or a 12-hour turnaround. Or fame. Or exorbitant amounts of money.”

“They’re dedicated, that’s for sure. And yeah, I think they like their jobs. Or maybe they just put on a front for me and Jared.”

That makes Misha laugh so hard that he has to wipe a tear from his eye. Spoiled fucking brats. “Because the crew only exists to please the precious little actors, right?”

Now Jensen is laughing, too. “Hey, we all get along really well. This ain’t community theater.”

Their laughter dissolves into silence. It’s not unpleasant, so Misha decides not to ask another question as he watches the children being wrangled.

“You know we don’t make a whole lot of money, right?” Jensen asks eventually.

“Oh fuck, now I’m really afraid to hear what you think ‘a whole lot of money’ is.”

Jensen shifts in his seat and reaches a placating hand toward Misha. “No, no, I just mean in context. We’re making less than an ensemble paycheck on a first-year sitcom. It’s a good reminder when my head starts getting big.”

Tool, Misha thinks bitterly. “That’s disgusting.”

They make eye contact as Jensen starts laughing again. There’s open affection in his eyes, which is daunting. Misha looks back toward the playground.

Apparently there are buttons all over the park that turn various sprinklers on. Jensen and Misha barely get through two lines of dialogue before a child hits one of the buttons and the scene has to be reset. They sit on their respective benches in silence for 15 minutes as the crew scrambles to get rid of the water.

The second time it happens, Jensen asks Misha how he got into acting.

The third time it happens, Misha asks Jensen what he likes to do during the summer hiatus. It’s the chattiest Misha’s ever heard Jensen as he talks about filming other projects and falling in love with his girlfriend during a movie that sounds like something Misha definitely needs to google.

The fourth time it happens, Jensen pulls out his phone and shows Misha a viral video of a 3-year-old explaining Star Wars. Misha bites his tongue so he doesn’t blurt out, “I auditioned for Anakin Skywalker and fucked it up big time.”

The fifth time it happens, Jensen slides off his own bench and sits down on Misha’s. Their shoulders bump. A crewmember looks between them and squints.

Something strange happens when they finally start doing full takes of the scene. Jensen makes funny faces at Misha during his coverage, which makes Misha laugh and fuck up the take. Other times he incessantly pokes him or says his lines in a ridiculous voice. No matter what he does, Misha breaks. Jensen spends time between takes laughing and high-fiving the cameraman.

Misha feels like he's being hazed.

Misha doesn’t have a trailer of his own, so he quickly makes a habit of visiting Jared’s. He quietly watches Jared and Jensen play video games and drinks all of Jared’s bottled water and mindlessly flips through channels on TV. Every time he steps inside, however, he feels on edge. Jared and Jensen are goofy and childish in a way that could be interpreted as dangerous? They're the frat boy type he avoided in college, except they never went to college. At any moment he thinks they're going to drop the charade and laugh in his face and admit that they hated him this whole time.

Weirdly, he's enjoying himself.

He and Jared finally film a scene together. To put it lightly, Jared messes around in between takes. Way more than Jensen ever has. Misha helplessly looks toward the crew to try to decide if he’s supposed to play along or stay professional. He has no idea what kind of joke is being played on him.

“You’re doing great, Misha,” Jensen reassures him as Jared jokes with one of the cameramen.

“Is he always like this?” Misha whispers, discreetly pointing toward Jared.

Jensen laughs and doesn’t even look over at his costar. “Uh, yeah. Wait ‘til you see him around Genevieve.”

“Who?”

A P.A. comes over to talk to them, and they don’t get to finish their conversation. Misha spends the next several minutes trying to remember who Genevieve is.

Jared keeps goofing around and making Misha mess up, which Misha feels terrible about. It could just be his imagination, but the crew looks antsy and a little exasperated. Jensen tries to reassure Misha that everything is fine and this is always how it is. Always how it is. They’ve done 32 takes of one two-minute scene. This better not always be how it is.

During one take, Misha fucks up a line so badly that he, Jared and Jensen all start cracking up. The director loses his patience and shouts at them to “shut the hell up and do the goddamn scene.”

Jensen whips his head around and stares down the director. Very calmly, he says, “Hey, man, that’s not how we do things here.”

“Excuse me?” the director responds angrily. “I’m trying to do a job, and you three are making it impossible.”

“We’re doing our work. We’re having a good time. There’s no need to yell at us, alright?”

The director backs down after that, which is baffling. Misha once again looks around at the crew and spots one person rolling their eyes. Whether it’s at the director’s temper tantrum or Jensen defending the two of them dicking around on everybody else’s time, he’s not sure. Either way, they get through the scene rather quickly after that.

At the end of the week, Misha doesn’t want to go back home. He even tells his wife he doesn’t want to come home, and she laughs at him and asks if he’s got a crush on one of the “glorified underwear models.” He doesn't give her an answer.

As he’s leaving set, Jensen chases him down and stops him.

“Misha. Hey. Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back in a month or so. I only have one more episode left. Wait, two. They added one.”

Jensen puts his hands on his hips and kicks at the dirt on the ground. “Yeah. Uh, that sucks.”

“Mm.”

Jensen looks over his shoulder and scratches the back of his neck. “Wish you were sticking around longer.”

“Thank you. That…means a lot to me.”

“Well, uh, anyway.” He throws his arms up. “Have a safe trip home. See you in a few weeks.”

Awkwardly, Jensen steps forward and wraps his arms around Misha. He pats him on the back in a very “bro” sort of way and then smiles at him when he steps away.

“Um,” is all Misha says before they depart from one another.

A week and a half later, Misha gets a phone call.

They want to indefinitely extend his contract.

He’s going to be in more episodes.

Chapter Text

After about 10 minutes, Jensen gets sick of staring at the walls and grabs his guitar. He starts to strum it only to realize it’s out of tune, and by the time he tunes it Jared appears in the living room.

“Hey. Ready to go?” he asks, as if Jensen hasn’t been waiting for him for almost half an hour.

“Yep,” Jensen answers as he sets his guitar in its stand and follows Jared out the door.

He likes living with Jared except for the part where Jared takes a million hours to get ready in the morning. Jensen’s a five-minute shower, take a piss, drink your coffee on the road kind of guy. Jared, on the other hand, treats the morning like it’s actually meant to be a productive part of the day.

In fact, their first morning living together, Jared’s mouth dropped open when he found Jensen in the living room waiting for him.

“What, dude?” Jensen had asked.

“So—that’s just what you look like?”

“What?”

“You roll out of bed and do nothing and that’s what you look like?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you being that pretty,” he gestured outlandishly toward Jensen’s whole body, “all the time. What the hell, man?”

“Dude, are you hitting on me?”

“Look, I have eyes. All I’m saying is that you,” he gestured at him again, “are unfair.”

Jensen had taken it as a compliment, but now he realizes it was meant to distract him from noticing that Jared takes a million years to get ready in the morning. Jensen could write a book on waiting for Jared.

Truthfully, Jensen is more anxious than usual to get to set because they’re finally getting into the more exciting episodes of the season. He gets to actually do some heavy lifting against some actors that are way better than he is, and he’s pumped about it in a way that he usually doesn’t get pumped for his job.

“Oh, dude, Misha’s gonna be back this week, isn’t he?” Jared asks on the car ride over.

Jensen’s heart sinks, but he has no idea why. “Um, I think so. They extended his contract.”

“I hope they don’t give him his own trailer. He had finally gotten to the point where he was comfortable enough to take naps in mine. I swear, next time he falls asleep on set I’m gonna mess with him.”

“Draw a mustache on his face in sharpie.”

“Shaving cream in his hand, then tickle his face with a feather.”

“Put his hand in a glass of cold water so he wets himself.”

“Does that actually work?”

“I have no idea.”

They’re still talking about Misha when they get to set, and of course he’s one of the first people they see. He’s always easy to spot because he wears the most outlandish sweaters Jensen’s ever seen. Jared posited a theory a while back that Misha’s wardrobe choices hinge on wanting to be remembered, like he’s afraid they’ll forget who he is if he dresses like a normal person.

Today, his sweater is a bright teal-blue color with a hot pink V-neck collar and cuffs. Once they’re closer to him, Jensen realizes that the fabric has gold specks weaved into it, making the whole sweater sparkle in the sun.

What an idiot, Jensen thinks.

“Hey, guys. Long time, no see,” Misha says with a bright smile to both of them.

His eyes seem to sparkle in the sun, too.

“How you been, Misha?” Jared asks with a slap to his shoulder.

“Uh, busy. I’m glad to be back, but I’m still trying to figure out how much longer I’ll be here. It’s kind of frustrating.”

“You need a place to crash while you’re here? You can always stay with me and Jensen.”

Jared looks to Jensen for his approval, but Jensen just drinks his coffee and doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, right, you two live together. That’s still strange to me.”

“It’s strange to me, too, don’t worry,” Jensen says. “And I bet you’ll be sticking around at least through the end of four. People like Cas.”

Misha smiles softly at Jensen, and Jensen drops his head and smiles down at his coffee cup.

Jared clears his throat and says, “Uh, I’m gonna go try to find Gen. I’ll see you guys later.”

After he leaves, Jensen and Misha look at each other awkwardly as if waiting for the other to come up with a new topic of conversation.

Eventually Misha asks, “So, did you have a nice Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year and Valentine’s Day and President’s Day?”

“And birthday. I just had a birthday, too.”

“Wow, I missed a lot. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Jensen looks down at his cup again.

“How old did you turn?”

“I haven’t been asked that since I was 12, dude.”

Misha frowns at him. “I guess I could just go to IMDb and figure it out.”

“I’m 31.”

“Mm,” Misha says with a nod.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to get me anything.”

That makes Misha smile again. Jensen is learning what the lid of a coffee cup looks like.

“Well, uh,” Jensen starts with a scratch to the back of his neck. “I’ll see you on set later. Or maybe in Jared’s trailer, more likely.”

“You know, I’ve never seen your trailer.” Misha tilts his head like it’s a challenge.

Jensen swallows a lump in his throat and says, “You want a tour? Come on.”

They end up doing more than just a tour of his trailer. Jensen takes Misha around to the different stages he hasn’t gotten to see yet, and he gets a little long-winded with his explanations of all the things they’ve done over the years. They visit prop storage and explore all the old crap, but it's a tight fit between the rows of furniture and hand props so Jensen tries to get them out of there as quickly as possible. 

On their way out of storage, Misha asks, “Do you want to be a director, Jensen?”

“What? What gave you that idea?”

“You just talk like a director. You should think about it.”

“Hm.”

The truth was that Jensen had thought about it. A lot. He was just too embarrassed to admit that Misha had pegged him so easily. Of course, Jared had been the same. Bought Jensen a camera for his birthday when they had only known each other for a few months. Jensen hated how transparent he was.

At the end of the tour Jensen accidentally leads Misha back to his trailer. He’s in the middle of a story about a stupid fight he and Jared had a few months back when he realizes that they’re standing in his kitchen. His sentence trails off lamely.

“Something wrong?” Misha asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Jensen clears his throat and rests his hands against the counter. “Uh, no. I just didn’t register that I brought you—that we were in my trailer. Got caught up talking I guess. I mean, I know we meant to come here anyway, but, uh...”

Misha smiles softly at him and takes a seat on one of the barstools as if he’s been here a hundred times. “I was enjoying the conversation. This is the most I’ve heard you talk, and that includes all the lines I’ve heard you say.”

“You calling me out?”

He shrugs innocently. “Now that I’m sticking around, you figure you’d get cozy with me?”

Jensen’s mouth drops open as he tries to decide how to respond. It sure sounded like a flirtation, but the metal gleaming from Misha’s left hand says differently.

Before Jensen can think of something to say, Misha takes a deep breath and looks around the trailer. “This is cleaner than Jared’s trailer.”

“That’s ‘cause Jared’s a slob. You should see our house.”

“I’d like that.”

Once again, Jensen isn’t sure how to respond. He glances quickly down at Misha’s left hand and then back up to his face. Just as he’s thinking that the guy didn’t notice, Misha moves his left hand off the bar and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Um,” Jensen says intelligently. “We don’t really have guests over. You know, it’s—we’re always here. Working. Makes it hard to…”

“Have friends?” Misha punctuates his question with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess. He and I are pretty close. I think it scares people off.” Why the hell he’s telling Misha any of this, he’ll never know.

“You spend a lot of time together. I imagine it’s difficult to meet people outside of work.”

“Dude, you’re talking like he’s my boyfriend.”

Misha somehow crosses his arms more aggressively. “It wouldn’t exactly be surprising if he was.”

“What?”

Misha just stares.

“I’m not gay.”

The expression on Misha’s face shifts—if Jensen didn’t know any better, he’d say the guy was suppressing another smirk. “I didn’t say you were. Jared already set the record straight about the nature of your relationship with him. What do the fans think about it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“They must know you’re close. I’m sure there’s wild speculation about your relationship.”

“What? People don’t do that.”

Misha drags his hand over his mouth and squints at Jensen. “Just wondering, have you ever heard of the internet?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and goes over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He already knew about Wincest. The idea that people would cross that boundary from fictional characters to real people seemed absurd. And yet. “You really think I’m spending my time googling myself to see what people say about me and my best friend? No thanks.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

As Jensen takes a drink of water, he looks at Misha’s stupid, sparkly sweater and wonders if that’s the first time in his life that he’s apologized for being weird.

“What are you thinking about?” Misha asks after too long of a silence has passed.

“You’re a little weird, you know that?” Why. Why did he say that.

“I’m confused, are you insulting me?”

“No! No, I was just—that’s what I was thinking about. Sorry.”

A long, awkward pause falls between them that is fortunately broken by a loud knock on the door.

“Hair and makeup in 10, Ackles,” a P.A. shouts from outside.

“Got it,” Jensen replies. He then looks back at Misha. “They’ll probably be looking for you, too. Want to walk together?”

Misha hesitates and pulls at the bright pink cuff of his sweater. He then takes a deep breath and slaps his thighs before standing up. “Sure. Why not.”

It’s the middle of the night by the time they’re done filming. Whenever a guest star comes on the show and has to endure the terrible hours, Jensen tries to keep an eye out for them the later it gets. He probably keeps too close of an eye on Misha, but he can use the excuse that looking out for somebody else keeps him awake and alert as well.

In any case, Misha doesn’t even do so much as yawn. He has perpetually huge bags under his eyes, which makes it impossible to tell if he ever gets tired. When they’re cut at 3 a.m., Misha downs a bottle of water and shucks off his trench coat like they’re taking the first 15 of the 12-hour day. Maybe he’s not method. Maybe he's a robot.

“Jensen?” Jared asks, and it’s then that Jensen realizes that he completely zoned out.

“Hmm?”

“What’s up with you? You’ve been staring at him for, like, five minutes straight,” Jared teases, gesturing toward Misha.

“Shut up. Let’s go home.”

As they leave, Jared throws his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and looks back at Misha. In a conspiratorial whisper, he asks, “You’re gay for him, aren’t you?”

Jensen elbows Jared in the ribs and doesn’t answer.

The next day, they work even later into the night. Jensen hates this part of the week where they work at night and go home during the day and his sleep schedule gets all fucked up. When they’re cut at 5 a.m., Jensen heads back to his trailer and yawns all the way there.

He’s startled out of his tiredness, however, when he flicks the light on and finds a man asleep on his couch.

“Misha?” he blurts out.

Misha jumps and hurriedly blinks himself awake. Before he can say anything, Jensen starts laughing.

“Couldn’t find your way home tonight?”

“I, um, meant to leave before you got back. You left your door open.”

“I do that sometimes,” Jensen says as he takes a seat in the armchair and pulls out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I don't know, hanging out. You want a beer?”

Misha raises his eyebrows and tucks his foot under his butt. “Why aren't you kicking me out?”

“Why would I do that? I'm probably gonna crash here tonight, you're welcome to stay.”

Misha’s eyes widen.

Jensen's eyes widen. “Not like that!” he frantically corrects. “I meant—I just mean if you need—if you need somewhere to stay. If you want to stay. On the couch. The—yeah.”

A smirk pulls at Misha’s mouth, but he cuts it off by darting his tongue out and licking his lips. He taps his fingers against the armrest. “How did the last scene go?”

Jensen blinks. “Um. It was fine.”

“You seem wired.”

“I, uh, hate these hours. I can't sleep during the day.”

“So don't.”

“What?”

Misha stands and cracks his back. “C’mon,” is all he says before heading for the door.

Without a clue of what's going on, Jensen jumps up and follows Misha out the door. Misha stands at the foot of Jensen’s stairs and looks back and forth across the lot several times before making up his mind and going left.

“Where are we going?”

Misha shrugs.

Jensen has to jog to catch up with him. “There's a hill just outside the lot. You can see the city.”

“Let's go there then.”

“Just like that?”

Misha turns a quizzical look on him. “Do I look like I'm tied down by a predetermined plan?”

Jensen shakes his head.

They pass a few crewmembers on their way out, but nobody bothers saying anything to them. They're probably too focused on finishing their work so they can go home for a couple of hours.

Truthfully, Jensen hasn't been up on this hill in a few years. Nostalgia pulls at his memory as they hike.

“I remember this being a lot higher up,” he states as he catches his breath at the top.

“Mm. It's nice.” Misha didn't even break a sweat on the way up. He sits at the base of a tree and wraps his arms around his knees.

Not knowing what else to do, Jensen takes a seat next to Misha and scoots away once he realizes that their shoulders are brushing. They sit in heavy silence for several seconds.

“Did you go to Kim’s funeral?” Misha asks apropos of nothing.

“Yeah.”

“I'm sad I missed it.”

A beat passes.

“It was, uh, tough. He was a good guy. Taught me a whole hell of a lot.” Jensen scratches the back of his neck.

“He was my favorite person to work with here. No offense. It hasn't really been the same without him.”

“He, uh, told me that you and I are good on screen together.”

Misha huffs a laugh and looks down. “I'm flattered. Here I was thinking all of our scenes are garbage.”

“You serious?”

Misha rolls his head over to glare at Jensen. “Really?”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head in embarrassment. “Kim, uh, gave me a lot of advice. Directing advice.”

“Oh yeah? So you have thought about it.”

He scratches his neck again. “Yeah, you got me.”

Another beat passes.

“It's kind of cold up here,” Misha says as he wraps his arms tighter around his knees.

“We're in Canada, it's always cold.”

“I miss L.A.”

“I've been trying to move out of L.A. since the day I moved to L.A.”

“Where would you rather be?”

“Home.”

“Do you mean that as an abstract concept or do you just mean Texas?”

Jensen holds back his laugh this time. He doesn't need to laugh at everything Misha says. “I just mean Texas.”

“Why don't you move?”

“Uh, eventually I will. Hopefully. Maybe after I get married.”

Another beat.

“So you want a wife, kids, the whole shebang?”

Jensen pokes his bottom lip out and nods. “Yeah, I do.”

“What was your girlfriend’s name again? Danielle?”

“Danneel.”

“Right. You gonna marry her?”

“Mm.”

“Cool.”

The sun peeks out in the distance, and Misha releases a small gasp. Jensen misses the sunrise. He watches Misha’s face light up instead.

“I haven't done this since college.”

“Done what?” Jensen asks, still looking at Misha.

Misha turns his head and smiles openly at Jensen. “Watch a sunrise. I used to get drunk and hang out in people's apartments all night, and then Vicki and I and a bunch of our friends would go to Denny’s and watch the sun come up while we ate breakfast.”

“I suddenly don't feel so bad about missing college.”

Misha laughs and bumps his shoulder against Jensen’s side.

On instinct, Jensen wraps his arm around Misha’s shoulder and squeezes him good-naturedly before scooting away.

Misha clears his throat and doesn't say anything.

“I guess, uh, we should try to get some sleep,” Jensen says.

“You really should focus more on how you choose to word that.”

Too tired to be embarrassed, Jensen says, “Shut up. Let's go.” He stands and reaches his hand down to help Misha up.

He yanks him up a little too forcefully, causing Misha to stumble forward until their chests bump together. Misha’s hair brushes Jensen’s face as he looks up at him. He tilts his head back and looks at Jensen’s mouth before stepping away.

“So, sleep,” Misha says.

“Right. Sleep.”

When Jensen wakes up that afternoon, Misha is not asleep on his couch.

When they film together that night, neither of them mentions the night before.

As they’re leaving set together, however, Misha asks Jensen if he wants to go out to eat with him. He mumbles something about wanting to “spend more time” with him and “getting to know each other,” so Jensen readily agrees to dinner the following evening.

Misha drives them to a part of town Jensen’s unfamiliar with, then he leads him into some brightly-lit New Age restaurant with bamboo chairs and abstract solar system murals on the walls. 

“Yeah, this tracks,” Jensen says as they wait for the host to greet them.

“Have you been here before?” Misha asks casually.

“What do you think?”

Misha just laughs. 

They make small talk at their table while waiting for their server, and Jensen tries his best to get comfortable but he is so far out of his element that he can’t concentrate on anything Misha’s saying. He opens his menu and recognizes absolutely nothing.

When the server approaches their table, she gives them a spiel about the “vision” of the restaurant, and Jensen so desperately wants to make fun of it but Misha is looking up at her with such a sincerely interested expression that it takes the wind out of his sails.

“Thank you, that was lovely,” Misha says when she’s done. He then grabs both his menu and Jensen’s and hands them to her. “We would like the three least ordered items on the menu.”

“What?” Jensen says stupidly.

The server snorts a laugh and praises Misha for his “excellent choice.” He winks at her as she walks away.

“Why, dude?” Jensen asks.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.”

It’s not fun. At first.

Jensen puts things in his mouth that he would never dream of eating if Misha wasn’t also eating them, and most of it is gross, but Misha keeps smiling at him and laughing at him while choking down each item, and they somehow clear all three plates. 

“OK, you win,” Jensen says while they’re waiting for the check. “That was fun.”

“And now you can tell people that you’ve eaten brains,” Misha says.

Jensen smiles at him.

“What?” Misha asks, smiling back.

“Nothing.” Jensen shakes his head. “This was just surprising, that’s all.”

That weekend, Misha shows up on set with a tall, black-haired, glasses-wearing woman next to him. Jensen stares at them from afar while they talk to a million other people before getting anywhere near him.

“Dude, that’s Vicki,” Jared says as he appears out of nowhere and steals a nacho from Jensen’s plate.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Uh, visiting her husband? Seeing where he works? How should I know?”

“Hm.”

With a laugh, Jared says, “You’re so weird about him. Danneel visits you all the time, what’s the difference?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Hey, Misha! Come over here!” Jared shouts.

Jensen briefly closes his eyes and then shoves a handful of nachos in his mouth. (He’s supposed to be on a diet.) (It’s not going well.) (He had to be re-measured at the beginning and middle of season four.)

“Jared, Jensen, this is my wife, Vicki. Babe, these are the idiots I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi,” Vicki says with a bright smile as she shakes their hands. “You two are as large as Misha said you were.”

“Aww, Misha feel small next to us?” Jared asks in a baby voice.

Misha rolls his eyes and presses his hand to the small of Vicki’s back. “Vicki decided to surprise me this weekend.” He deliberately looks at Jensen after he's said it.

“I’m taking him to the middle of nowhere on Sunday. We’re gonna meditate. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten the chance.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you meditated, Misha,” Jared says enthusiastically as if Vicki just said something completely normal.

“We do,” Misha confirms. “It clears my head.”

“It does a lot more than that,” Vicki corrects. “But I don’t need to bore you with details. What are you two doing this weekend? You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s not necessary, Vicki,” Misha says before they can answer. He's still looking at Jensen. “They probably have a football game to watch or something equally exciting.”

Jared and Jensen both huff a laugh. “Not football season, dude,” Jared says.

“Oh, yeah! Misha said you guys like football. That’s so weird.”

“Really? We’re weird?” Jensen blurts out.

Luckily, Misha and Vicki both laugh. Jared elbows Jensen anyway, confirming that Jensen is in fact being offensive.

(He's not ready to acknowledge that he's somewhat disappointed to see Vicki on set. He had been planning on asking Misha if he wanted to hang out with him and Jared on Sunday.)

Misha spots someone nearby that he wants to introduce Vicki to, so they quickly excuse themselves. Vicki shakes Jared’s hand and tells him it’s nice to meet him. But when she turns to Jensen, she pulls him into a strong hug and then winks at him as they separate.

“She’s as weird as I expected her to be,” Jared comments while watching Misha and Vicki walk away.

“Yeah…”

Jensen can’t think of anything else to say. He’s intrigued. Almost intrigued enough to take Vicki up on the offer to go meditating with them.

Almost.

Lucky for him, Vicki stays through Tuesday. She gets in line next to him at craft services on Monday morning and asks if he’d like to get drinks with her and Misha after work.

“Normal drinks or like weird healing vegan drinks?”

Vicki laughs softly. “Alcoholic drinks. We're not hippies, you know.”

“Had me fooled.”

As Jensen and Jared walk back to their trailers that night, Jensen asks, “Where are we meeting Misha and Vicki?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Who said anything about meeting Misha and Vicki? I'm going out with Gen tonight," Jared says a little shyly. 

“What? Really?”

“Um, yeah? So you're hanging out with them?”

“Drinks. Vicki asked me this morning. You really weren't…?”

“Oh no, I'm so crushed. The weird guy and his equally weird wife like you better than me,” Jared deadpans.

“Hm. I guess they do,” Jensen replies smugly.

“Hey, just because you're gay for him doesn't mean you can rub it in my face. Use protection tonight.”

“Yeah, you too, Jay-rod.”

Jared punches him in the arm before leaving him. Just as Jensen steps inside his trailer, there’s a knock on the door.

He opens it to find Misha smiling brightly at him on the other side.

“Where’s your wife?”

“Nice to see you, too.” He leans up against the doorframe. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, give me two seconds.” Jensen doesn’t bother inviting Misha in, but he also doesn’t shut the door in his face.

Once he’s gathered all of his things, he finds Misha lounging on the couch.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Wow, that really was two seconds.”

As they head outside, Jensen once again asks where Vicki is.

His question is answered when they arrive at Misha's crappy little Volkswagen parked illegally on the lot. Misha takes the passenger seat and gestures for Jensen to get in the back.

“So Jensen, how long have you been acting?” Vicki asks as she drives.

“Um, since high school.”

“Did you go to college?”

“Nope, straight to L.A.”

“He was on a soap opera, babe,” Misha says.

“Where are we going?” Jensen asks before Misha can bring up any more embarrassing tidbits from his past.

“You tell me,” Vicki answers. “You’ve spent more time in Vancouver than I have, I’m sure.”

“Misha tells me y’all have visited here before. Never thought Vancouver was much of a vacation spot.”

“It is if you know what you’re looking for.”

Misha reaches his hand across the center console and rests it on Vicki’s knee. Vicki shifts in her seat and doesn’t say anything else.

“Uh, if you take a left up here there’s a good bar about five minutes away." Jensen amends, "A normal bar. With normal food and drinks."

Vicki laughs. "Still traumatized from the other night, Jensen?" Before he can answer, she continues, "He used to do that whenever we'd saved enough money to go to a fancy restaurant in undergrad. Such a romantic." She grabs Misha's hand and brings it to her lips.

Jensen thinks he might spend the whole night feeling like the third wheel. He really wishes Jared was here to help him out.

Once they get to the bar, though, he relaxes a little. Misha sits next to him at their table and insists that drinks are on him. He cracks a joke about making the “big bucks,” which makes Vicki roll her eyes. When their drinks arrive, Misha downs half of his and orders a slew of appetizers. Jensen’s stomach grumbles on cue. 

“So Jensen, do you have a partner?” Vicki asks after their appetizers have arrived.

“What?”

“You know, a significant other.” She shrugs.

“I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Misha places his hand on Jensen’s shoulder and explains, “Vicki’s just using the P.C. term. He has a girlfriend, babe.”

“Oh, I see. Serious girlfriend?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty serious. Her name’s Danneel.”

“Pretty name.” Vicki takes a drink of water. “Serious girlfriends are dangerous. They make you all lovesick.”

Jensen turns a quizzical look on Misha, but Misha’s focused on eating potato skins. “What do you know about serious girlfriends?”

Vicki smiles and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I’ve had one or two. They’ll break your heart if you’re not careful.”

Jensen looks back and forth between the two of them in search of an explanation. When he gets none, he says, “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“The concept of bisexuality perhaps,” Misha says at the same time Vicki says, “I’m bisexual.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jensen asks, “Haven’t y’all been together forever?”

Misha and Vicki share a look. Misha clears his throat, Vicki tucks her hair behind her ear. They don’t answer.

Somehow, the subject is dropped and Jensen drinks too much to care to bring it back up again later. By the end of the night, he’s got an arm wrapped around the back of Misha’s chair and his foot is bumping against someone else’s under the table.

Jensen is pretty sure he does something embarrassing before they drop him off at his apartment, but he can’t for the life of him remember what it is.

Chapter Text

This isn’t going to be the rest of your life, this isn’t going to be the rest of your life, this isn’t going to be the rest of your life.

“In his first convention appearance, please join me in welcoming Misha Collins.”

Misha plugs his ears as he heads through the curtains. He can’t see the whole room, but the first few rows are filled and the cheers are somewhat deafening. He nods awkwardly, waiting for the noise to die down.

“Wow,” he deadpans. “Um, I wanna say thanks for the introduction to Malik, who’s a great actor and my pimp.” He looks to the left and takes a seat. “OK, so now what do we do?”

The crowd asks a hundred questions all at once before the microphone system is explained. Misha looks to his right and finds a smiling girl standing at the mic.

“I wanted to welcome you to this convention since it’s your very first one and probably not your last. Um, I wanted to initiate you into this whole crazy Supernatural fandom by asking you, how does it feel to be loved by thousands of fangirls?”

The crowd cheers again.

Misha has a flashback to the night he found explicit fan fiction and learned just what the “fangirls” were doing to his character in their free time. He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind. 

“It’s terrible,” he responds.

The next hour of his life points toward a future he always considered bleak and embarrassing. He can't help but think about his friend who ended up on a cult TV show and has been doing circuit cons for the past five years. Misha was poor and out of work, and he wasn't even jealous of his friend having a steady job. Conventions are just bottom of the barrel to him, a last ditch effort at the end of a mediocre actor's sad career.

It's going well so far.

Women ask him to read poetry and recite Castiel’s lines and explain weird shit that happens to be on his IMDb. Despite the fact that he’s an actor, he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow accustomed to being put on display. He adopts a stage persona almost immediately, which he can't decide is a good thing or not (it's too late either way). He wants to be sincere to the fans, but he also doesn't want to give away too much of who he actually is. God, that sounds pretentious. It's just that if people end up hating him, he wants to be able to reassure himself that they hate his public persona and not his real personality.

And god, that sounds self-conscious.

When people ask questions about what it’s like on set, Misha has to wrack his brain for the right kinds of stories. He can’t exactly explain how difficult it was at first to figure Jared and Jensen out and how he felt uneasy around both of them. He’s grateful that he eventually warmed up to them, because conventions and fan interactions would be very awkward if he hadn’t.

In the end, he keeps the stories short and vague. He nearly breaks down laughing as he tells the story about filming with a woman who was a stand-in for a child. That was one of the first times that Misha felt terrible at the end of the day for making the crew’s lives miserable. They just couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. It got so bad that even the woman joined in. As the footage was wasted, Misha found himself sneaking glances at Jensen just to get a glimpse of the way his eyes scrunched up when he laughed. When they were cut for the day, Jensen threw his arm around Misha’s shoulder and they laughed their way back to Jared’s trailer.

Misha leaves out the last bit of that story.

At the end of the weekend, Misha concludes that it could’ve been worse. He’s not a washed-up, sorry-ass scifi actor just because he did one convention.

At the second convention two weeks later, Misha feels like a goddamn broken record. He’s asked the same questions and very nearly delivers all the same answers. The only difference this time is that Jared and Jensen are in attendance. Maybe it’s his imagination, but the audience seems a little less interested in him than they were when “the boys” weren’t around.

By Sunday afternoon he’s exhausted and his hand hurts from signing hundreds of things. When he gets to the green room he makes a beeline for the coffee pot and doesn’t even notice that someone else is in the room until Jensen says, “That bad, huh?”

Misha jumps and crushes a cardboard coffee cup in his hand.

Jensen laughs quietly and takes a seat on one of the couches. “What’s got you so on edge, Mish?”

“I’m not on edge. Who said I was on edge?”

“Dude.”

Misha rolls his eyes and plops down on the opposite side of the couch. He takes a long pull from his coffee and makes Jensen wait. “How many of these conventions have you done?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Dozen? Who cares?”

“Don’t you get sick of it?”

“Uh, yeah? But it’s part of the job, so…” He shrugs again and drinks his coffee.

Misha drops his head back. “I’m so tired of answering the same three questions.”

“You get used to it. Hey.”

Suddenly Jensen is right next to Misha, shoulder to shoulder. Misha’s too tired to resist the urge to look down at his friend’s mouth.

“Cons aren’t so bad, Mish. The fans are cool. Mostly. I promise you’ll get used to it. You trust me?”

“I probably shouldn’t, but yeah, I trust you.” As he says it, he tears his eyes away from Jensen to seem more nonchalant.

Jensen deliberately bumps his shoulder against Misha’s. “Good. I’ll see you later.”

After Jensen leaves, a word rings in Misha’s ears like an annoying echo.

Mish.

Chapter Text

“Babe, where’s my suitcase?” Misha opens the pantry door as if that’s a viable place to leave a suitcase.

“What suitcase?”

“My suitcase. You know, the one I take with me to and from Vancouver every week and drop in the same spot every time I—”

Vicki appears around the corner with the suitcase in hand. She drops it at his feet and laughs when it pops open and all his sweaters fall out. She then takes a seat at the kitchen counter, pulls a book out of nowhere and begins reading.

“I was wondering where this one was,” Misha mumbles to himself as he holds up his green-and-blue striped cable knit sweater. It’s become his favorite recently.

“Isn’t it getting warm up there? Maybe you should pack something different than sweaters this time.”

Misha rubs the material between his thumbs and index fingers and stuffs it back into the suitcase. “Security blanket,” he explains.

Vicki looks up from her book. “Really? I thought you were starting to fit in.”

He shrugs petulantly. “I don’t know. We haven't had much time to, uh, hang out outside of work lately. But there's some wrap party I don't really want to go to."

She closes her book. “Well, were you invited?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“OK…how did they invite you?”

Misha can see it in his head—the day Jensen came up behind him and put an arm around his shoulder and said, “Wrap party. Post-finale. Meet in Jared’s trailer,” before patting his back and strutting off.

Too embarrassed to ask Jensen if he could repeat his request in complete sentences, Misha shyly talked to a crewmember about it. The girl was cleaning a prop gun near a grip truck with her headphones on. Misha recognized her because they awkwardly said hello to each other whenever they passed. She knew all about the party but said she wouldn’t be attending.

“What do you mean?” Misha asks Vicki defensively.

“Are you stalling because Jensen is the one who invited you?”

Misha feels the color drain from his face. “Maybe.”

With a smile, Vicki makes her way over to Misha and kisses his forehead. She grabs both his arms and pulls him up against her so their noses are almost touching. "I didn't think he was all that great."

Misha rolls his eyes and leans forward to give her a chaste kiss. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Don't get me wrong, he’s cute. Definitely better in person than on screen though.”

“Oh, so you have been watching the show?”

She lets go of him and heads back to her book. “I might’ve seen an episode. The trench coat looks stupid on you.”

“Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t wear a sweater to the wrap party.”

“What?”

“They see you in sweaters all the time, right?”

“I guess.”

“So, it’s a nice event and you should wear something, you know, nice.”

“My sweaters are nice.”

Without another word, Vicki leaves the kitchen. Misha wants to follow, but he waits until he can’t hear her footsteps anymore. By the time he actually moves into the hallway, Vicki is on her way back with a shirt in her hand. She jumps when they nearly run into each other.

“Wear this,” she says as she shoves the shirt at him.

It’s a white, linen, short-sleeved button down. “This is your idea of dressing up?”

She shrugs and tugs at the shirt. “Trust me, it looks good on you. At least take it with you.”

“Fine.”

“Hey.” She runs her hand down his arm as a gesture of comfort. “You like this job, don’t you?”

“Probably more than I should.”

“And you like the people you work with?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Uh, yeah, mostly. Sure.”

She rolls her eyes and smacks his shoulder. "Really? 'Mostly'? So I was just imagining it when Jensen drunkenly—"

"He's not my only coworker, you know."

"OK. Fine. As much as I miss you when you’re gone, I’m glad you like it up there. Indulge me? Go to the party and have a good time and maybe kiss the cute boy? Please?”

He balls the shirt up in his hands and sighs. “I’ll do most of those things. I’m not kissing any boys.”

“Alright, your loss.”

Misha could never keep anything from his wife. Not that he never tried— she just always knew everything even when he was hiding something.

So on his first weekend home after filming the premiere, she had asked about his costars and before he could even get a word out she had said, “Uh-oh. Somebody caught your eye.”

And so he spilled. Didn’t even try to put up a front that day, he was too tired. He told her all about how intimidating and talented and beautiful Jensen was, and how he thought he was a jerk even though he was the most professionally courteous person he’d ever met. He and Vicki sat on opposite ends of the couch and Misha could feel her eyes trained on him but he stared at the coffee table in shame. It was rare for someone to have such a profound impact on him, and he didn’t like the feeling.

“Is he straight?” she had asked.

Misha had nodded even though he wasn’t sure at that point.

“Married?”

“No. I googled it to make sure.”

“Oh, you poor idiot.”

“I don’t like him. He just—he’s gotten under my skin, that’s all.”

“When was the last time you slept with a man? Was it that trip to Cancun when we—”

“Yes.”

“Babe, that was almost a year ago. No wonder you’re frustrated.”

“I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.”

Vicki had left it at that even though Misha could tell that she definitely didn’t think he was fine. Sometimes she allowed him to wallow in his own self-pity so that he could remember how much he hated himself. Well. Not really. That’s just how he interpreted it.

To really drive the point home, Vicki had come to bed that night wearing Misha’s favorite strap-on. She barely said two words to him before stripping him naked, flipping him over and sliding a lubed-up finger home.

She didn’t even say anything when Misha accidentally shouted a name that wasn't hers.

Although he’s reluctant to leave his wife, Misha would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to get back to Vancouver. The place is starting to grow on him. Or maybe just the people. He’s kind of sick of poutine.

Unfortunately, the words “CASTIEL explodes” are in those ugly block letters right there in the middle of the season four finale script, so maybe in a couple of months he’ll be craving poutine and missing the days when he had access to it so easily.

“We should get poutine,” Misha says to Jensen as he sits next to him in the catering tent early Tuesday morning.

“Um. Hello to you, too,” Jensen replies.

“Sorry. I was thinking about poutine. How have you been?”

“Dude, seriously, are you method?”

“Jensen, we’ve been over this—”

“Right, you’re just nervous and weird. Why are you thinking about poutine?”

Jared appears then and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. He’s got two plates of scones and starts scarfing them down without saying anything.

“I don’t know. I don’t even like it that much,” Misha answers. “But it’s so…” He searches for the right word before settling on, “Canadian.”

“You know we’re in Canada, right?” Jensen asks slowly as if he’s talking to a moron.

“Yes—I’m just—I’m saying I’m gonna miss Canada. I guess.”

Jared stops chewing and gives Misha a once-over. “Cas dies in the finale, doesn’t he?”

Misha shrugs and pushes his eggs around on his plate.

“You know that means nothing on our show, right?” Jensen says reassuringly, as if he’s said this to a hundred guest stars before him.

Which, that certainly doesn’t make Misha feel any better. There might be guest stars that come back or stick around for a few episodes, but they’re not main characters. They’re not top billed. They’re not here hanging out with Jensen and Jared. And if they were at one time, they probably heard the words, “You know dying means nothing on our show, right?” at least once. Misha would bet money that Jensen and Jared probably don’t even remember all those people’s names.

When Misha zones back into the conversation, Jensen and Jared are looking at each other and discussing something silently. Yeah, and he’s supposedly the method actor here.

“What are you guys talking about?” Misha asks exasperatedly.

“Where’d you go there, Castiel?” Jared teases.

“None of your business. To answer your question, I’m probably not coming back for season five. They haven’t told me anything yet, so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Well, let’s hope they change their minds,” Jared says. “I like having friends besides Jensen.”

Jensen throws a tater tot at Jared’s face.

Jared heaves his half-eaten scone hard enough to break Jensen’s nose, but Jensen easily ducks out of the way. The scone hits the back of a crewmember’s head, so Jared gets up to go apologize and laugh it off with the guy.

“So, poutine,” Jensen says once they’re alone again.

“Poutine.”

“We can get poutine. I know of a place.”

“Good.”

Misha shovels some eggs into his mouth and tries to ignore Jensen’s eyes on him. It’s hard to remember how to chew when Jensen stares like that.

Eventually, Jensen grabs his empty plate and smacks Misha on the back. “See you later, man,” he mumbles as he leaves.

Misha finishes his eggs alone.

It turns out to be a particularly stressful week of filming, which means Misha doesn’t even have the time or energy to try to revel in it. He likes Rob Benedict a lot and genuinely thinks he’s probably one of the nicest people he’s ever met, and yet he’s short with him during their scenes. He might just be a little too bitter that Castiel gets blown to bits because of this idiot Chuck.

By the time the season four wrap party rolls around, Misha’s so tired that he forgets about the shirt he promised his wife he’d wear. Instead he throws on his stupid blue-and-green-striped sweater that’s no longer his favorite. He changes his mind about his sweaters probably more often than is normal, but whatever.

“I like your sweater,” Jensen says when Misha enters Jared’s trailer. He’s got a beer in one hand and an empty shot glass in the other, and based on the necktie wrapped around his forehead like a karate headband it’s probably not his first drink of the evening.

“Thank you. It’s rather warm.” He tugs at the middle of it to get it away from his body for a moment. Instead of asking for a drink, he grabs a tumbler and a bottle of scotch off the counter and pours one himself.

“Whoa, hey!” Jared shouts as he drunkenly stumbles over to Misha and snatches the scotch out of his hands. “That’s supposed to be for later. You know what that means.” He gestures toward the half-full tumbler as if Misha actually does know what that means.

Misha looks down at his tumbler and then back up at Jared. “Um. No. I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you have to down that scotch in 10 seconds or else you have to chug from the bottle,” Jensen supplies.

Just as Misha is saying, “What am I, a freshman in college?” Jared stares down at his watch and loudly says, “Ten, nine, eight, seven—”

By the time he hits one, Misha is choking and coughing and can’t feel the back of his throat. Jensen slaps him on the back a few times, a little too hard, while Misha tries to explain that he normally doesn’t drink scotch.

Well, he does drink scotch. Just not strong scotch apparently.

“You OK?” Jensen asks quietly so that only Misha hears.

Before he answers, Misha realizes that Jensen’s pats have turned into a gentle rub between his shoulderblades. “Mm, yeah, I’m good. Just, uh, wasn’t prepared for that. Sorry I took the scotch.”

“You should be sorry!” Jared exclaims, shoving a finger so close to Misha’s face that he has to back up to avoid being poked. “We’re gonna make you pay, Collins.”

“Didn’t you already make me pay?” Misha whispers to Jensen.

Jensen stifles a laugh and takes a seat on one of the barstools. He grabs Misha’s tumbler right out of his hand and pours him a vodka cranberry.

“Can’t you afford something better than New Amsterdam?” Misha asks as he accepts the drink.

“Yeah, but it fucks Jay-rod up worse than anything else,” Jensen replies.

As if on cue, Jared flips over the back of the couch and makes a loud thump as he hits the floor.

“Dude, seriously, if you’re hot then take the sweater off.”

“What?”

“You keep pulling at your sweater like you’re hot. Just take it off.”

“I’m not wearing anything underneath it.”

“So? We’ve got clothes.”

(Misha chooses to ignore the noticeably long pause between “So?” and “We’ve got clothes.”)

Before Misha can think of a way to avoid changing into Jensen’s clothes, the door opens and Rob Benedict walks in with a beer tucked close to his body. He has his other hand in his pocket like a kid who accidentally got invited to some older kids’ party and he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed. Suddenly Misha doesn’t feel so out of place anymore.

“Robbie!” Jared yells, holding out the “e” sound for an enormously long time.

Rob stands awkwardly and smiles at Jared until he stops. Only when the greeting ends does Rob seem to take a breath.

“Hey, Jared,” he responds quietly.

“Dude, quit drinking that piss crap.” Jared steals the beer right out of Rob’s hand. “Time for scotch.”

Misha tries, “But you just said—”

“Time for scotch!” Jared yells louder.

Misha’s mouth drops open as he realizes he’s been scammed. Jensen smiles and shrugs at him before downing half a beer.

“Hey, Rob, how’s it going?” Jensen asks quietly, patting Rob on the back in a friendly manner.

“I’m OK. Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be sorry. We managed to survive without you.”

Rob smiles softly at Jensen, and Jensen smiles softly back. Misha looks away so they don’t notice his surprised expression. Rob and Jensen are so gentle together it’s difficult to watch.

“So, um. I guess I’ll be back for a couple episodes in season five,” Rob says as he takes a seat next to Jensen. “I wonder how they’ll kill me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“So they already talked to you?” Misha blurts out. “I mean—I just mean—they consulted you about next season?”

Rob adopts a sad expression as he answers, “Yeah, they did. I’m sure they’ll talk to you soon, Misha.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

After an awkward pause, Misha downs his vodka cranberry while Rob and Jensen talk about some P.A. who provided shoddy paperwork and backed up production by two hours today. Misha wonders if anybody around here ever talks about anything other than work. Or if any of them even have lives outside of work.

"Dmitri!" Jared shouts from the other end of the trailer.

Misha turns and receives a sweaty t-shirt to the face. He rips it away and throws it fruitlessly back at Jared. It lands two feet in front of him. Jared laughs and imitates him, throwing his arm out in a delicate fashion.

Misha opens his mouth to protest, but he's cut off by Jensen angrily asking, "Who the fuck is Dmitri?"

"Um, me," Misha responds dumbly, completely forgetting the fight he was about to start with Jared.

"What?"

"My name. It's Dmitri."

"Misha."

"Dmitri."

Jared walks up to Jensen and very seriously says, "Dude, what are you talking about? His name is Dmitri. Have you been calling him something else this entire time? I've never heard of a Misha."

Jensen pushes Jared away so forcefully that he stumbles against the counter. "Explain," Jensen demands.

"My full name is Dmitri Tippens Krushnic. Misha is a nickname."

"What the fuck."

"Where did Collins come from?" Rob chimes in.

"An attempt to make my name sound less Russian." In a Russian accent, Misha continues, "I was sick of only being offered roles that require a Russian accent."

Jensen knocks a full bottle of beer off the counter and barely reacts when the liquid pools around his feet. He stares at Misha.

"Are-are you OK, Jensen?" Rob asks timidly.

"Hmm? What? Yeah. Fine." Jensen shifts, looks down at the beer, looks back up, clears his throat. "You don't look like a Dmitri."

"Thank you?"

With a curt nod, Jensen ends the conversation right there. He excuses himself a moment later and disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't come back for a while. Not that Misha notices.

Halfway through his third beer, Misha receives a text from Vicki.

Did you kiss the cute boy yet?

Misha is so busy smiling at his phone and thinking about how much he loves his fucking wife that he doesn’t notice when somebody walks up behind him.

“Who you texting?” Jensen asks, his face so close to Misha’s that Misha can feel his breath against his ear.

Misha fumbles and nearly drops his phone in an attempt to hide the content of the text. “My wife.”

“Did she say something about a cute boy?”

“It’s rude to read people’s texts.”

“Shit. You’re right. Sorry, man, I—”

“Whoa, I was joking,” Misha interrupts with a laugh. On instinct, he turns on his barstool and places his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “She was just asking me if there are any cute boys at the party.”

“That’s a weird question to ask.”

Misha downs the rest of his beer and slams the bottle onto the counter. “Why?”

“I mean, aren’t you married? She looking for something on the side?”

“What? No. She’s asking for my sake.”

Jensen blinks at Misha several times.

Misha is too drunk to register where exactly this conversation flew away. He could’ve sworn he’s been over the concept of bisexuality with Jensen before.

“You’re married,” Jensen repeats.

“Doesn’t mean I’m straight.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Party time!” Jared yells as he passes by Jensen and Misha and smacks them both on the back.

The slap hurts, but Misha doesn’t care. He’s too busy having a staring contest with Jensen. He runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth as he smirks at his costar. Jensen swallows and blinks and blinks and blinks.

It’s Misha who moves first and walks with Rob out the door. He resists the urge to look back at Jensen. There better be a lot more alcohol in his future.

“You OK, Misha?” Rob asks as they head toward the studio.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look a little green. You’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

Misha scoffs at him. “Why does everybody have their kid gloves on tonight? I'm fine.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just—”

“Shit, you didn’t offend me.” Misha wraps his arm protectively around Rob’s shoulders. He doesn’t know why, but he always feels like a concerned father around Rob. “You’ve never been to one of these parties, have you?”

“I joined the show later than you, Misha.”

“Oh. Right.” He removes his arm from Rob’s shoulders. “Are you nervous about it?”

“I’m generally nervous about most things, so yeah.”

“I was nervous earlier, but now I think I’ve imbibed too much beer to care.”

It’s only when Jensen turns and looks back at them that Misha realizes he had been staring at the back of his head for the entire walk. He doesn’t stop staring even when they make eye contact.

“I don't think we've ever had a conversation this long,” Rob says. “Are you a talkative drunk?”

“I suppose I am. Trust me, it’s better than the couple of times I smoked weed and had panic attacks in front of all my friends.”

“Did somebody say they got weed?” Jared yells from way up ahead.

Misha feels slightly uneasy over the fact that if Jared could hear their conversation, then Jensen definitely could also. Did he say anything incriminating? He’s not sure.

“Oh, no, I am not smoking with you again,” Jensen yells back at Jared. “I made a promise to myself and I’m not breaking it tonight.”

If Misha was a bit more sober, he’d tuck that bit of information away to ask about later. Instead, he watches in anticipation as Jensen backpedals until he’s right next to him.

“So, uh, you really got reefer?” Jensen asks conspiratorially without looking over at Misha.

“I don’t really smoke, but I have a lot of friends who do. I didn’t realize how popular of a topic this would be.” I would’ve brought it up a year ago if I’d known it would make you like me.

“We should get high together sometime,” Jensen says with a squeeze to Misha’s shoulder.

Misha looks over at Rob, but Rob’s clearing his throat and purposely looking away. As if Jensen’s request was only meant for Misha.

“Um, OK,” Misha answers. Maybe Jensen didn’t hear the part where Misha doesn’t really smoke.

The party’s in full swing by the time they get to the studio. Misha’s never seen the place so dark and loud, which is disconcerting. When a place associated with work turns into a goddamn nightclub it’s kind of difficult to adjust. He immediately heads for the open bar.

By drink number whatever, Misha finds himself staring down at a camerawoman as she explains her theory on North Korea’s recent rocket launch. It’s probably been about an hour since he’s seen either Jensen or Jared, but Rob keeps popping up and asking how he’s doing and Misha really doesn’t know why that’s happening so much.

He gets another text from his wife around 3 a.m., which seems like an unusual time for her to be up.

Turn your phone off, babe. You’re drunk.

He stares at the text for a solid minute before realizing that the previous 11 texts were all from him. He has no memory of sending them.

I think I told jHensne that I’m not straight

Reefre

He called weed “”””reefer””””

I’m gonna punch him in the fcae

Rob is cute

What if I kiss Rob

Did I tell you about Rob

Apdoifu

R u sleep

Aslep

Asleep

The next time Rob appears out of nowhere to check on Misha, Misha shoves his phone into his chest and says, “Take this away from me.”

“What do you mean?” Rob asks with a laugh even as he accepts the phone.

“My wife is trying to sleep, but apparently I’m drunk texting her.”

“Oooh, what are you saying?”

For a second, Misha considers snatching the phone back. In the next second, however, he decides to blurt out, “I was telling her that you’re cute.”

Rob’s eyes dart up to Misha’s face. He looks slightly confused, mostly terrified. “What?”

“C’mon, you have to know you’re cute.”

As Misha finishes a beer that he’s not even sure is his own, Rob looks around the room nervously. Nobody’s paying them any attention. The camerawoman left at least 10 minutes ago, probably right after Misha said that if he was the ruler of North Korea he’d disguise nuclear missile tests as innocent rocket launches.

“Am I coming on too strong? I’m sorry, I lose tact when I’m drunk,” Misha admits.

“No! You’re—it’s OK. I-I don’t mind. Wait. Are you—you’re not actually coming on, like, coming onto me, are you? Didn’t you say you’re married?”

“Yes, very married,” Misha says facetiously. “Very much married. To a woman. Definitely not interested in kissing you at all.”

“What?”

“Hmm?”

A staring contest ensues. Misha loses when he looks down at Rob’s lips.

Rob takes a step back, his eyes widening. “Dude, you’re so drunk.”

Misha nods dramatically. “Yes. I should maybe—it’s probably time I go home.”

Everything is a bit blurry after that. Rob helps Misha outside, and some other people show up, too. There’s a hand on Misha’s elbow that guides him into the back of a car. He’s pretty sure it’s Rob—but maybe it’s Jensen—or maybe Rob who climbs into the car with him and tells the driver where to go and repeatedly asks Misha if he’s going to be OK.

In the morning, Misha wakes up alone in his own bed with no memory of how he got there. He wakes up feeling surprisingly good. No headache, no hangover.

He thinks it might have to do with the good dream he had while he slept. In the dream, he kissed a cute boy.

Chapter Text

The drive back to Los Angeles feels particularly long after season four wraps. Jensen is exhausted in a bone-deep sort of way, the kind of exhausted he hasn’t experienced since the start of his acting career. Something about season four really drained him.

He chalks it up to having a full year of filming instead of a writer’s strike cutting the season short like last year.

He can’t wait to do nothing for the next two months.

Danneel greets him at the door when he gets home, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him gently before helping him with his luggage. The house welcomes him with the aroma of a home-cooked meal and a dog waiting for him in the foyer. Jensen pats Icarus and then barely makes it to the living room before toeing his shoes off and plopping down for a nap.

When he wakes up an hour later, he’s surprised to find a text from Misha.

You make it home OK?

He smiles at the screen and thumbs over the keyboard. Icarus bumps his head up against his elbow. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says as he scratches behind the dog’s ear.

Yeah. You?

It takes a few minutes for Misha to respond, so by the time Jensen’s phone buzzes again he and Danneel are sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner.

I’m at a rest stop in Montana.

“How was the drive, sweetie?” Danneel asks.

“Boring.” That’s not on the way to L.A. “I think I should start flying.”

“Who are you texting?”

Vick and I decided to take a trip to Yellowstone. We’re really good at blowing all of our money on travel.

“Hmm?”

Danneel laughs. “Should I take your phone away?”

He looks up at her guiltily. “What? No. I’m fine. It’s just Misha.”

She picks up her glass of wine and leans back in her chair like she's sizing him up. “Are you going to see him over the break?”

“Hopefully,” Jensen stupidly responds as he types.

Wish I was there. Let me know if you see any wolves. I didn’t get to see any when I went as a kid.

"When am I gonna meet this guy?" Danneel asks.

Jensen hums an "I don't know."

"You're always so weird about him."

"Because he's weird."

"From what you've told me, he sounds great." She tips back the rest of her wine. "Great enough for you to be texting him instead of paying attention to me, the woman you love and haven't seen in several months."

He rolls his eyes and gets up from his seat. He goes behind her chair, squeezes his hands against her shoulders and leans down to kiss her cheek. "I missed you."

"Sure."

"OK, fine." He walks away. "I was having more fun texting Misha anyway."

"Hey! Wait! Fuck you!" She chases after him all the way into the living room, where they get tangled up on the couch and wrestle for all of five seconds before it turns into kissing.

"I missed you, too," Danneel says sweetly when Jensen pulls away.

He nuzzles her face a bit and then sits up on the couch.

They're lazily watching TV, Danneel tucked into his side, when Jensen’s phone buzzes again.

“If I make out with you again, will you ignore him?” she teases as she reaches up to his face and runs her thumb over his lips.

“No,” Jensen answers. He kisses the pad of her thumb, leans forward and grabs his phone off the coffee table.

Danneel huffs her annoyance at being jostled forward. She moves away from him and sits on the other end of the couch with Icarus.

We’re hiking for four days, I’m sure we’ll see plenty of wolves.

No shit, are you camping in the park?

We didn’t make any reservations, so unless we steal someone’s spot, we’ll most likely be sleeping in the car on the side of the road.

Before Jensen can type out a response, another text appears.

We don’t have a tent. We’ll probably die.

“How was the wrap party? You haven’t told me about it yet,” Danneel says while she flips through channels.

“Uh, good.” His face flushes. “I got pretty smashed, so I don’t really remember much.”

I get the feeling you and Vicki put yourselves in life-threatening situations more often than average.

“You said the same thing last year.”

That’s a pretty fair assumption.

“That’s because it’s the same every year.”

I’m entering the middle of nowhere, so I won’t have service. Don’t panic if you can’t get in touch with me, I know how important that is to you.

Jensen rolls his eyes and sets his phone down. He turns toward Danneel, but her eyes are trained on the screen. He presses his foot against her thigh. “We should go out tomorrow. To the dog park or something.”

A smile pulls at her lips, but she still doesn’t look at him. “How romantic.”

With a laugh, he makes his way across the couch, leans his head against her shoulder and wraps his arm around her stomach. “We’ll make a day of it. Go for a walk, get some ice cream, go to a fancy restaurant. Hell, we could have a picnic.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “OK. But I get to pick the restaurant.”

“Deal.”

She moves her arm out from under his head and wraps it around his back. He scoots closer to her side.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he gets up to go to the bathroom half an hour later. Misha hasn’t sent him anything else, so Jensen writes, Just text me whenever you do have service. I don’t want to be worried all week that you’ve been eaten by bears.

OK, Mom.

“Still texting your boyfriend?” Danneel asks when Jensen comes back with his phone in hand.

“What?”

“What’s he up to?”

“He and his wife are hiking through Yellowstone.”

You’re gonna feel real bad if that ends up being the last thing you say to me before you get eaten by bears.

“How come we never do anything fun like that?”

“Hey, we have fun. Just not as spontaneously.”

How can I feel bad if I'm dead?

OK. Well. I'll feel bad reading it at your funeral. 

Dear Jensen, if I die this week, know that I’m glad you were around for the last year of my life. Also, when I first met you I thought you were a tool with a dumb haircut.

Before Jensen’s finished reading, Misha texts him again: Better?

“You watched this season, right?”

“Of course, why?”

“Did my hair look dumb?”

“Yeah,” Danneel replies with a laugh and absolutely no hesitation.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs. “They just cut it too short. It’s not a big deal, babe.”

Jensen huffs and types furiously.

Danneel just confirmed that my hair did look dumb.

“Wait, is Misha teasing you about your hair?”

Great minds think alike.

“Yes.” He angrily tosses his phone on the couch and tries to pay attention to whatever’s playing on TV.

He gets bored after five minutes and asks Danneel if she wants to go to bed.

She enthusiastically agrees, so it’s no surprise that she immediately kisses him as soon as he lies down next to her in their room.

“You know, you could’ve just said that you missed me,” he says smugly as she peppers his chest in kisses.

“Shut up, Dean.”

His laugh is cut short by Danneel’s mouth wrapping around the head of his cock.

Didn’t hear from you yesterday, hope you haven’t died yet.

OK seriously Mish your cell service can’t be THAT bad.

He’s about to double bogey hole eight when his phone buzzes.

Wow you really are a mom.

“Any day now, Jay,” Josh calls from the other side of the green.

Jensen rushes his putt and misses by an inch. He taps the ball in, picks it up and walks over to his brother while he texts.

It’s been five days. Sue me for being concerned about my friend’s safety.

We decided to let our phones die and enjoy nature uninterrupted.

When are you coming back?

Needy.

Jensen rolls his eyes and pockets his phone so he can set up his next shot. He’s about to tee off on the ninth hole when he realizes he has a putter in his hand. He laughs it off and ignores his brother making fun of him as he pulls out a driver.

He lands in the water.

So are you gonna tell me or no?

We’ll be back later this week.

Lunch?

What

He drops a new ball on the grass near the water. He hits it into the sand.

“What's the word for eight strokes over par? Octuplet bogey?” Josh asks.

Let's get lunch. We live in the same city, don't we?

I'm sorry, did you just call L.A. a CITY as if it's possible to get from one part of it to another for a casual lunch visit?

He ends up being 10 strokes over par and doesn't even care.

You don't know where I live. We could be next door neighbors.

Uh oh it sounds like you've once again forgotten that until very recently I was dirt poor.

Just call me when you get home, alright?

Kinky.

Jensen finishes in the low hundreds. Josh promises never to tell anyone how embarrassingly bad he played.

Misha doesn't call Jensen. Instead, he texts him his address followed by, show up anytime if you're nearby.

Weirdly enough, Jensen is nearby. He's just leaving the chiropractor when he receives the text, and a quick Google maps search shows that Misha is only 15 minutes away.

Gonna be late getting home tonight, he texts Danneel as he starts his car. Don't wait up on me.

She texts back immediately. That doesn't sound suspicious at all.

Misha invited me over.

...Yeah, definitely not suspicious.

Shut up

:)

When Misha opens the front door with a blinding smile on his face, Jensen’s brain goes offline and all he manages to say is, “Nice house.”

“Thanks, I built it.”

“What?”

“I built it. It's fine. Come on in.”

Misha doesn't wait for Jensen before turning and walking back down the hallway. Jensen looks around as he takes his shoes off. The house seems a bit too normal.

“Jensen! You coming?” Misha calls from somewhere around the back of the house.

Jensen jogs down the hallway and finds Misha and Vicki bustling around in the kitchen.

“Here, put these vegetables on skewers,” Vicki says as she shoves a bowl of raw vegetables at Jensen’s chest.

He works fast and silent, fearing that Vicki will fuss at him if he doesn’t.

As he’s wiping sweat from his brow and trying to fit a piece of zucchini on the end of an already full skewer, Misha leans up next to him and whispers, “You’re allowed to talk, you know.”

“Hmm? Oh, um.” He chances a glance at Misha and finds a smirk on his face. He quickly looks back down at the vegetables. “This just seemed really serious and important, so I didn’t want to break up your flow.”

“You’re absolutely right, Jensen,” Vicki says from the other side of the counter. “We’re having an important guest over tonight, so everything has to be perfect.”

“What? Who’s the important—”

“She means you. Did something happen in the past week that’s turned you into a nervous moron?”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “It was nothing.”

Misha raises a curious eyebrow at him but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he says, “You got here pretty quick. I feel like if I say jump there’s about a 90 percent chance you’ll ask how high.”

“I was on this side of town. I actually live about an hour from here.” Jensen looks around at all the food being prepared. “And it looks like you expected me to be here.”

“I had a hunch.”

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you’re too tired to drive home,” Vicki offers. “We have a couple of spare rooms.”

“I thought you said you were poor,” Jensen says to Misha.

“I was. You think I made money building this house?”

“Did you really build it?”

Misha nods sheepishly.

“And everything in it, too,” Vicki adds as she steals the skewers from Jensen and sets them on a pan to go in the oven.

“No kidding.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t know you were a carpenter.” He bends over, leans his elbows against the counter and looks down at Misha’s hands as if he’s seeing them for the first time.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Good thing I’m a fast learner.”

Misha puffs his chest out, takes a deep breath.

Jensen smiles up at him.

“OK, boys, out of the kitchen,” Vicki announces. “Go set the table and grab a beer out of the fridge if you want. Ready in 20. Jensen, is Danneel joining us later?”

“What? No. She’s at home. I, uh, was just on this side of town so I…”

“Right, you said that already.” Vicki waves him off. “Eventually we’ll have to meet her though. You can’t show up here without her next time.”

Jensen laughs nervously. “We’ll have y’all over sometime. She makes a mean porkchop.”

“Could we see that little thing that’s been your phone background for the last few months?” Misha asks as he hands Jensen a beer and heads toward the dining table.

“Hey, that’s no way to talk about Icarus,” Jensen fires back.

He joins Misha at the table and holds his hand out for a plate. Misha winks at him as the plate passes between them. Jensen clears his throat and looks over at Vicki, but her back is to them.

As soon as they sit down to eat, Jensen asks about Yellowstone and spends the next hour listening to Misha and Vicki excitedly talk over each other. By the time they’re done, Jensen’s plate is empty and he’s slouched so far down in his seat that his foot is knocking against Misha’s leg under the table. He bumps his socked big toe in a steady rhythm against his shin so that Misha knows it’s deliberate.  

After Jensen yawns for the fourth time, Misha turns to Vicki and says, “Your turn for dishes. I’ll walk him out.”

“You’re not going to fall asleep on the way home, are you?” Misha asks as they walk down the hall together.

“No, I’ll make it.”

When they reach the door, Jensen stops and faces Misha.

“So, um, we’ll see you again soon.”

“Yeah, thanks for having me.” He looks down at Misha’s lips and back up to his eyes. “Don’t be a stranger, OK?”

“We might be a tad busy over break, but I’ll make time for your dog at the very least.”

Jensen laughs and scratches the top of his head. “Bye, Mish.”

Jensen reaches a hand out to pull Misha in for a hug. He squeezes him tight, rubs his back a little, and only pulls away when Misha stiffens in his grasp.

When Jensen gets home that night, he tries his damnedest not to wake Danneel as he sneaks into bed next to her. He thinks he’s succeeded as he slowly slides an arm around her midsection, but then she takes a deep breath and her arm folds over his.

“How’s Misha?” she mumbles without turning over to face him.

“Mm,” Jensen responds. He kisses her shoulder before settling back against the pillow.

“Jared called while you were out.”

“What, he lose my number? The hell’s he calling you for?”

“Relax, he was inviting us to the lake. He said you weren’t answering his texts.”

“I didn’t have any texts from him.”

“Or you ignored your phone all night. How far did you and Misha get? Third base? Did Vicki watch or part—”

“Weren’t you asleep a minute ago?”

She wiggles her butt against his crotch. “Weren’t you soft a minute ago?”

He groans and tries to scoot away from her, but she moves back to meet him.

“When are we going to the lake?”

“Wednesday.”

“Hm.”

“You could invite Misha if you want.”

“I don't want.”

He doesn’t mention it to Misha. It shouldn’t be weird; it’s not like he tells Jared every time he hangs out with Misha. Why would he need to tell Misha every time he hangs out with Jared?

Even so, he’s texting Misha as he gets ready for the lake Wednesday morning, and for some reason he’s itching to say something about it.

What are you up to today?

It’s innocent enough.

We’re planning a tea party.

What?

It’s going to be in the middle of an intersection. We’re wearing 19th century garb and inviting all of our friends.

Again...what?

It’ll be fun. Stop traffic for a little bit. It’s taking more planning than we originally thought, though, so we won’t actually do it until the fall or spring.

Do y’all do shit like this often?

No matter how often it is, you always sound shocked when I tell you.

Good point.

What about you?

Jensen grimaces down at his phone. Going to the lake with Jared doesn’t sound as cool anymore.

D and I are going to the lake with Jared and Gen.

That sounds fun.

He types up and erases three different sentences before settling on, Jared’s really terrifying on a jetski. I’m nervous.

Jared’s really terrifying in general. Of course, I almost crashed the last time I was on a boat, so I don’t really have room to talk.

Oh well then I’m glad I didn’t invite you.

Misha responds with a picture of himself flipping off the camera.

“Why did I agree to this?” Jensen asks through panted breaths.

“Because you think you’re fat,” Misha replies normally as if he didn’t just run several miles.

Jensen falls forward and catches himself on a boulder. He takes a seat on it with a huff. “You do this every day? For fun?”

Misha stretches his arms above his head. “Yeah. Running is fun.”

Jensen scoffs.

“You would feel better about it if you weren’t so out of shape.”

Jensen scoffs some more. He doesn’t protest though.

Misha takes a seat on the ground, leans his back up against the rock and hands his water bottle up to Jensen. Jensen downs half of it before handing it back. They sit in silence for several minutes, looking out over the woods in peace.

“We can get a pizza after this if you can make it the next two miles.”

“Won’t that kind of negate the run?”

“It sounds good though, right?”

Jensen grunts his agreement.

After a pause, Misha says, “I ate nothing but junk food as a kid. I’d probably still do that if I didn’t know any better.”

“Your parents just let you eat whatever you want?”

Misha straightens up a bit. “We were, um. Too poor for real food. At least for a while.”

“You serious?”

“When I was 11 my diet was almost exclusively cheetos and slim jims.”

Jensen laughs softly. “Did you weigh about 300 pounds?”

“I weighed the same as I did when I went to college. I feel like you think I’m making this up.”

“You’re not?”

He takes a deep breath. “I could really go for some pizza. You almost ready to keep going?”

“No. I’m sorry I can’t run 10 miles without breaking a sweat. We can’t all be like you.”

“Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we could, though?”

Jensen playfully knocks his knee into Misha’s side.

They drop back into silence for a few more minutes, Jensen trying his best not to breathe too loudly for fear of Misha making fun of him. When he casually mentioned to Misha that he hadn’t exercised in ages and felt like he was letting himself go, Misha had practically begged him to go running with him. As Jensen agreed to the proposal, he told himself it was because he really cared about his health and not because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with Misha.

Eventually Misha holds up his left hand and spreads his fingers out to examine them. He’s wearing a ring on his middle finger in addition to his wedding ring, and they both look loose with his sweat.

“I meant to take these off before we left. I’m definitely going to lose one of them.”

Jensen points at the one on his middle finger. “I have one just like that.”

Misha spins around and gives Jensen a ridiculous look.

“What?”

“This is yours.”

“What?” Jensen repeats in a higher register.

“Jensen. You gave me this ring.”

“No I did—wait.” His brain short circuits.

Misha gets up and sits next to Jensen on the rock, forcing him to scoot over until he’s almost falling off of it.

“If I had known you didn’t remember, trust me, I would’ve given it back a long time ago.” Misha slips the ring off his finger and tries to hand it back to Jensen.

Jensen looks down at it then up at Misha’s worried face before curling Misha’s fingers down and pushing his hand away. “No, keep it. I want you to have it.”

A beat passes between them while Misha delicately slips the ring back onto his finger.

“Was it the, uh, the night of the—”

“When Vicki was in town and we went out for drinks. I knew you were drunk, I should’ve never—”

“Dude, stop. I just told you I want you to have it.” He clears his throat. “You dropped me off at my apartment and Vicki waited in the car while you made sure I got home safe.”

Misha nods. He’s unconsciously twisting the ring around his finger. “You, um, grabbed my hand and put it in my palm and then closed my fist around it. Kind of like you did just now actually. That was after you, uh, kissed my cheek.”

That pulls a laugh out of Jensen. “God, I’m a moron. Don’t let me drink around you anymore.”

“It was endearing.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Slightly.”

Jensen teasingly knocks his shoulder against Misha’s. “Why, uh, why do you have it on your—you know, your left hand?”

Misha tilts his head to the side and stares into the woods. "You know, sometimes I see animals when I go running. It would be great if a bear showed up right now so I could get out of this conversation."

"There are bears in L.A.?"

"You ready to keep going?" Misha asks as he stands and stretches.

"Wait. You didn't answer my question."

"Nope, I didn't. Let's go."

Misha jogs off without saying anything else. Jensen pulls himself up with a huff and chases after him.  

They never return to the conversation. They get pizza, go back to Misha’s house and never mention the ring.

Even two days later when they go running together again, Misha still wears both rings. They glint in the sun when Misha’s arms pump forward. Jensen looks at them every time. He wants to ask, wants to say something, but the words never come. He blames the fact that he’s too out of breath to hold a conversation while running.

After their third run, however, Misha immediately goes to take a shower and leaves Jensen and Vicki alone in the kitchen together. Jensen downs an entire bottle of water and watches Vicki prepare lunch for herself.

“You’re brave running with him. He’s a little reckless with his trails.”

“Why does he wear my ring on his left hand?”

Vicki looks up sharply, her eyes wide as she stares at him. She schools her face into a more neutral expression before saying,  “He, um, doesn’t like wearing rings on his right hand.”

“Oh. OK. Um. Yeah. That makes sense.” He wipes sweat from his forehead.

Vicki sets down the knife and tomato she was cutting and joins Jensen at the table. “He didn’t wear it at all for about two weeks. He tends to lose rings, so he just kept it on his nightstand for a while.”

Jensen taps his fingers against the table. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but then a door behind them opens.

“BLT?” Misha asks.

Jensen turns to see Misha drying the back of his neck with a towel. His hair is dripping wet, and he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs with an orange waistband. Jensen licks his lips and swallows.

“I was making one for myself, but go ahead,” Vicki replies.

“You want one, Jay?” Misha picks up the knife and slices quickly and easily through the tomato.

“Hm? What. Yeah! Sure.”

Misha stops cutting in order to squint at Jensen. He smirks before resuming his work.

They eat mostly in silence. Jensen focuses his attention on not staring at Misha’s collarbones.

There’s a week left in the hiatus when Jensen realizes that Misha and Vicki still haven’t come over. They haven’t met Danneel or Icarus, and now there’s absolutely no time to do so.

“Relax, Jensen, it’s not the end of the world,” Danneel reassures him as they walk through the farmer’s market one morning. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere. I’ll meet them eventually.”

“Isn’t it weird that I’ve hung out with them half a dozen times this summer though? That’s weird, right?”

“Not really. I mean, you have a huge crush on Misha. It makes sense.”

Jensen squeezes an avocado a little too hard as he sets it in their basket.

“Aren’t they on vacation for the next week? Let them enjoy their time off. You don’t always need all the attention,” Danneel continues.

“All I did when I hung out with them was tell them that they needed to meet you.”

“So now I’m an elusive mystery in their minds. It’ll be the event of the year when we finally meet.”

“You kept asking me when I was inviting them over. Don’t act like you weren’t excited about meeting them.”

“Oh, I am excited about meeting them. Just not enough to force them home early from vacation. Seriously, relax, Jensen.” She smiles mischievously. “You already put a ring on it.”

“I should’ve never told you about that.”

“You really shouldn’t have.”

Jensen sighs dramatically.

Danneel turns around and presses herself into his personal space. She leans up and kisses him softly. “I love you, but you’re driving me nuts.”

He nods in understanding.

She pats his face and turns back around and keeps walking.

I miss you.

It’s only been two weeks, Jensen.

I’m needy, remember?

How could I forget.

I’m sorry y’all haven’t met Danneel yet.

I’m sorry you’re terrible at planning things. I’ll see you in a few days, OK?

OK

About 10 minutes later, Jensen receives another text.

I miss you too.

Chapter Text

“You propose yet?”

“Have you proposed yet?”

Jensen laughs and takes a pull from his beer. He and Jared are sitting out on their back porch in Vancouver enjoying their last night off before shooting for season five begins. Jensen has a nice buzz going, enough not to feel embarrassed that his heart feels heavy with affection for the way his best friend talks about Genevieve. Jared’s been going on for half an hour about how amazing it was to spend the hiatus with her.

It was probably Jensen’s favorite thing about season four, watching Jared and Gen fall in love. They had been sweet and awkward and compatible in a way that Jensen had never seen from Jared before. Jensen had loved every second of witnessing their love story. Well, other than that one time he accidentally walked into Jared’s trailer without knocking and…

He had met Misha at craft services afterward and Misha had laughed at him until there were tears in his eyes.

Misha. Right. Another of his favorite things that happened in season four. As Jensen downs a six-pack and listens to Jared’s praises, there seems to be an itch under his skin. He hasn’t texted Misha since he idiotically told him he missed him, but he keeps checking his phone every five seconds hoping that Misha will text him.

Jensen is fiddling stupidly with the label on his beer bottle when Jared asks, “So really, how are things with Danneel?”

“Hmm?” He looks up at Jared in a daze.

A surprised smile splits Jared’s face. “Were you thinking about her just now? You look all dopey.”

“Oh. No. I was thinking about...never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

A beat passes before Jared responds, “Uh, OK. Is everything—you and Danneel are doing good, aren’t you?”

“What? Yeah, of course. I, uh, started looking at rings.”

“Holy shit, man. That’s great!” Jared leans over and punches Jensen in the arm.

Now he definitely has a dopey look on his face. “Don’t tell anyone. Obviously. She has no idea. I haven’t even talked to her parents about it yet. But, you know, I think I’m ready.”

“Dude, that’s so awesome. Can I be your best man?”

Jensen laughs and kicks at the front leg of Jared’s chair. They knock their bottles together and drink in silence as they look out into the backyard.

Danneel is too good for Jensen. She’s clever and sweet and a little weird—OK, maybe a lot weird—and they’re so easy together that Jensen finds himself thinking of her first as his best friend before he thinks of her as his girlfriend. He doesn’t think that’ll change when—if they get engaged or even married. His heart beats hard in his chest at the thought of referring to Danneel as his wife. Not in a bad way, though. It sounds exhilarating, like something he should’ve done a while ago.

“We probably shouldn’t live together anymore,” Jared says apropos of nothing.

“Why the hell not?”

“We’re both thinking about getting married. We shouldn’t have a futon in our living room.”

“Hey, I like that futon.”

“We’re too old and rich to be two straight guys living together.”

“Gen’s got you whipped, dude.”

Jared clenches his jaw. “Yeah. OK. It was her idea. But I agree! I gotta think about starting a family soon, you know?”

“Whoa, hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re making me nervous,” Jensen lies.

“Just start thinking about getting your own place, alright? Find a new roommate if you want, I won’t be jealous.”

“Mm,” is the only confirmation Jensen offers.

“Find a new roommate” rattles around in his head long after he and Jared head back inside and say goodnight to each other. He definitely doesn’t need a roommate. He should just get a one-bedroom apartment that Danneel likes enough to want to visit him every so often. Or maybe a two-bedroom apartment just in case he needs to be thinking about starting a family soon, too.

Something sinks inside of him at the thought of that, so he tries to distract himself. But the only topic on his mind is find a new roommate. What was Jared implying? Did he know that Misha had been struggling to find suitable housing since it took Michaels so damn long to tell him he was being bumped to series regular? Did he know that Misha had lamented about it to Jensen multiple times over the hiatus?

Did Jared know that—no, he couldn’t have known. He had called Jensen straight less than an hour ago. He couldn’t know.

Jensen barely sleeps at all that night, so he feels totally on edge when he gets to work on Monday morning. He greets everybody with as much friendly courtesy as he can muster, but his mind is elsewhere. He keeps scanning the set and wondering where the hell Misha is. He’s a fucking mess.

“Have you seen Misha?” he tries to ask Jared casually as they stand in Chuck Shurley’s house with crewmembers milling about them.

“He’s not called today,” Jared replies without looking up from his phone.

“What? He’s third on the call sheet now.”

“Yeah, third. As in, doesn’t work every day of the week.” Jared pockets his phone and glances around the set. “Quit bouncing your leg, you’re making Rob nervous.”

From the corner, Rob’s eyes widen and he crosses his arms over his chest. He had been biting his nails for the past five minutes. “I’m not nervous,” he says nervously.

Jensen throws up his hands defensively. “I’m not doing anything. Robbie, you OK?”

Rob shrugs and nods his head too forcefully. “Why are you worried about Misha?”

“Who said I was worried about Misha?”

“I don’t know, it just kind of seems like you’re worried about Misha.”

“Well, I’m not.”

All three of them stop talking for a minute. The crew is still bustling around them, ignoring the actors as they get set.

“Misha told me he’s flying in later tonight,” Rob says eventually.

“What?”

Rob jumps at Jensen’s accusatory tone. Jensen immediately deflates, clearing his throat and trying to look more casual about the situation.

“He told me a couple days ago that he was flying in tonight and would be here tomorrow afternoon. Did he—did he not tell you?” Rob punctuates his question with a nervous smile.

“No,” Jensen replies.

“Did you and Misha hang out over the break, Rob?” Jared asks, ignoring Jensen.

“Yeah, yeah, we did. We did. We, uh—”

Jared huffs an affectionate laugh. “It’s OK, I’m not interrogating you.”

Rob returns the laugh. The tension in the room eases a bit. “I saw Misha in L.A. a month or so ago. I got lunch with him and Vicki. It was nice. They’re weird.”

Jensen’s brain goes offline at the thought of Rob and Misha hanging out. Why hadn’t Misha mentioned it? Why hadn’t the three of them hung out? Maybe Misha thought Jensen wasn’t friends with Rob. Or maybe Misha is a grown man allowed to have friends that aren’t Jensen. He wonders if Jared hung out with Misha over the break. No, one of them surely would’ve mentioned it. Then again, had Jensen mentioned to anyone how much he’d been hanging out with Misha?

By the time Jensen zones back in, there’s a slate in front of his face. He quickly reminds himself what scene they’re about to do and then switches into Dean with a shake of his hands. If he can focus on work, then he won’t feel so wound up.

Of course, the scene is about Castiel and where he is and what happened to him. So that doesn’t help.

For the rest of the day, everyone’s buzzing about Mark Pellegrino while Jensen is silently brooding about the 12 hours he’s going to have to wait to see Misha. It’s not the first time he’s lamented the 12-hour turnaround, but it’s definitely the most petty reason he’s ever had. Not like Misha’s his goddamn boyfriend.

The second they get home that night, Jared corners Jensen and asks, “You’re not on edge about our conversation last night, are you?”

“What? No. What conversation?”

“You know, about not living together. I mean, if you’re gonna act like this then I guess I’ll just live with you indefinitely.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s nothing. I’m going to bed.” Jensen pushes past Jared and heads toward his room.

“It’s 9 o’clock!” Jared calls after him.

Jensen doesn’t respond.

Something eases out of him the following afternoon when he enters the craft services tent and sees the familiar shape of Misha’s back. Jensen approaches on autopilot and is therefore taken aback when Misha turns around and grins widely at him.

“Hey, stranger,” Misha greets casually.

“Hey. Long time, no see.” He’s pretty sure that’s the first time in his life he’s ever said that phrase.

“Get your food and come join me.”

Before Jensen can agree to the request (command?), Misha slides past him with a full plate and heads toward a table in the back. Jensen stupidly watches him go and only turns toward the food when Misha sits down. Whatever spell Misha has cast over Jensen, it’s turning him into a complete moron.

“I heard you were wondering where I was yesterday,” Misha says as soon as Jensen sits down.

“Yeah, I thought you’d be here. I was disappointed.”

“Really? Huh.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I didn’t think about you at all. Surprised to hear that the lack of sentiment wasn’t returned.”

Jensen flicks his fork at him. “Shut up. You know I missed you.”

Misha laughs and pats his hair to check for crumbs. “I missed you, too, Jensen.”

“I miss Vicki, too. She gonna visit you more often up here now that you’re a series regular?”

“Ah yes, series regular. Can you believe it? I’ve finally arrived.”

Despite Misha’s aloofness, Jensen still slaps his shoulder and says seriously, “Couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Ugh, stop. All it means is that Castiel might survive the season. And I have my own trailer now. Thank god.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You love hanging out at Jared’s.”

“Yeah, and getting shoved inside one of the kitchen cabinets 10 minutes before my call time. So fun.”

“That was one time.”

Jensen doesn’t exactly know what it is about Misha, but after lunch he knows he feels lighter and more relaxed than he has in days, maybe even weeks. He tries to keep himself in check so Jared doesn’t get suspicious of his sudden change in attitude. Luckily Jared is too distracted messing with Misha during takes to notice anything different about Jensen.

At one point Jared reaches his hand between Misha’s legs to fondle his balls, and Jensen doesn’t stop himself from saying, “Dude, stop.”

The smile falls from Jared’s face. “What?”

“I said stop. You’re going too far.”

Misha uncrosses his arms and squints at Jensen. “Are you alright?”

Jensen rolls his shoulders back. “I just want to get through this scene.”

When Misha simply looks at him in response, Jensen can only hold his stare for a couple of seconds before dropping his eyes to his boots. Jared huffs a laugh to break the tension.

“You need a drink, Jackles. Or you need to get laid,” Jared says.

“Bite me.”

OK, so maybe he’s not feeling as light and relaxed as he thought.

When they're done shooting for the day, Jensen climbs into the backseat of a car and hopes it takes off before anyone else gets in.

As the driver puts the car in reverse, the door opposite of Jensen opens and Misha takes a seat. Jensen nervously tugs on his earlobe and doesn’t make eye contact.

“You know I would say something if Jared was really bothering me, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“Wanna get a drink after work?”

“Are you asking because Jared said I needed one?”

“You don’t see me offering to get you off, do you?”

Jensen’s eyes widen before he remembers what Jared had said. He shakes off his surprise with a forced laugh. “It’d probably do me better than a drink would.”

“Oh, well, in that case, shall we?” Misha opens his arms as if waiting for Jensen to make the first move.

The driver clears his throat.

Jensen and Misha both break down laughing.

“Come over to my house,” Jensen says in spite of himself.

“Right now?”

“Yeah. I don’t feel like going out for a drink. Wanna hear about your last trip with your wife.”

“Is that a euphemism? Is ‘talking about your wife’ some code for a booty call?”

Jensen reaches over and punches Misha in the shoulder. Misha smiles and holds his arm as if it really does hurt.

“Jared and I are splitting up.”

“That’s going to be a messy divorce.”

“I mean he doesn’t want to live with me anymore, asshole.”

“That’s good. You can get a place to yourself and not have to wait on him all the time. Unless...it’s not a good thing? You’re making a face like it’s not a good thing.”

“I don’t know. It seems, I don’t know, sad to live alone up here.”

“I’d offer to live with you, but. I don’t really want to.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Misha pats his shoulder condescendingly.

“OK, so I guess I’ll get a place to myself.”

“Why doesn’t Danneel move up here? I hear you’re proposing soon.”

Jensen whips his head around to glare at Misha. “I’m gonna kill Jared.”

When they get back to the studio, they part ways to their own trailers and Jensen thinks Misha’s going to forget about coming over. He’s ready to accept the disappointment right as there’s a knock on his door. Misha’s hair is wet and spiky, and he has a neon green cardigan on over the Duran Duran t-shirt he was wearing earlier.

“Dude, you have to let me get you some new clothes.”

“What? What’s wrong with my clothes?” Misha asks defensively as they walk toward their cars.

“Just—please let me take you shopping.”

Misha doesn’t agree to the proposal, but he also doesn’t disagree. Jensen counts it as a win and hopes they get a normal day off this week so they can go to the mall.

When they arrive at Jensen’s house, Jared greets them by getting a bottle of wine and three glasses from the kitchen. They all sit together in the living room talking animatedly about what they did over the hiatus, Jared getting progressively louder the more he drinks. He doesn’t seem to notice how many of Jensen and Misha’s stories overlap.

Finally, after his third glass, Jared announces that he’s going to bed and, “Don’t get into any trouble, you two.” As he leaves, the dogs wake up and trot after him. 

Jensen mourns their loss. He had been absentmindedly scratching behind Sadie's ears for the past half hour. 

Once they're alone, Jensen turns back toward Misha and finds him staring at him.

“Something on my face?” Jensen asks self-consciously.

Misha blinks. “No.” He looks down at his glass and swirls the liquid around. “This wine is making me tired.”

“Late call tomorrow. Sleep as much as you want.”

“I was hoping to go for a run in the morning. But drinking more wine and passing out until noon sounds like a more appealing plan.” He tips back the rest of his drink and slides from the couch to the floor so it’s easier to reach the wine bottle sitting on the coffee table. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jensen ignores the way his heart beats in his chest. “Shoot.”

“My wife and I are trying to get pregnant.”

Jensen lurches forward so fast that he can feel the alcohol sloshing around in his stomach. “What?” he yells.

“Um.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Did you tell Rob?”

“What?”

Jensen blinks. “Nothing. How long have you been trying?”

Misha pinches the bridge of his nose. “Long enough. Vicki can be...exhausting when she wants something.”

“You telling me your wife is wearing you out?”

“No, I’m not saying that because that would be an understatement.”

Jensen snorts and scoots over so his knee is bumped up against Misha’s shoulder. “So, no luck yet?”

He sighs heavily. “No.”

“I think you’ll be a great dad.”

“Glowing praise. Thank you.”

Jensen downs the rest of his wine and hands the glass to Misha since he’s closer to the coffee table. Instead of setting the empty glass on the table, Misha pours him some more and hands it back. Jensen doesn’t protest.

“Hey, we should go shopping this weekend.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I want to get you clothes. Something other than gaudy sweaters.”

“I thought you liked my sweaters.”

“Nobody likes your sweaters.”

“I like my sweaters.” Misha pours the remainder of the wine in his own glass and tosses the empty bottle aside. “Do you remember that day it was really hot in Jared’s trailer and I took off my sweater? It was the brown one with—”

“The red and orange stripe across the chest? Yeah, I remember,” Jensen finishes for him. Which. Is embarrassing. Historically, Jensen’s memory is shit. But the sweater had just been so damn ridiculous. And it was the first time Jensen ever saw Misha in a t-shirt.

“Do you remember what I did with it? I can’t find it.”

“I hate to break it to you but if you left it in Jared’s trailer, then I wouldn’t expect to get it back in good condition.”

“Good point.”

After a beat, Jensen continues, “Just let me pick out some clothes for you. Please? Especially if you’re going to be at all the conventions this year.”

“They already told me I can’t wear my sweaters at cons. Since when do you care about fashion? I’ve seen you walk off set in Dean’s clothes.”

“That’s because I like some of the stuff wardrobe puts me in. Hey, wait, don’t turn this around on me. We’re talking about your terrible choices.”

“Have you ever looked closely at my costume?”

“Um, not that I—”

“You should come to my trailer sometime and take a look.” Misha pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through it. “I think you would find it amusing.”

Not knowing what the hell he’s talking about, Jensen changes the subject. “Your phone more exciting than hanging out with me?”

“I just signed up for Twitter. It’s rather amusing.”

“What the hell is Twitter?”

“You’re joking, right?”

Jensen purses his lips and shrugs.

Suddenly Misha is next to him on the couch, bumping their shoulders together and holding his phone out between them. As soon as Jensen sees the app, he recognizes it. But he doesn’t say anything.

“See, I type a ‘tweet,’ which can only be 140 characters long. I can say whatever I want, but only if it fits the 140-character parameter. I think Twitter was invented as a response to the short attention spans of the 21st century, but I’ve found that people really just use it to complain. Kids complain about school and their parents, adults complain about their jobs and companies that don’t provide good service. Oh! So you see this ‘at’ sign? That’s how you talk to other users. You can mention them, and they’ll see your tweet. A lot of companies have official Twitter accounts, so you can ‘at’ them with your complaints and they’ll most likely respond because they don’t want public criticism. Twitter’s become a soundboard for unsatisfied people.”

“Is that what you use it for?”

“No. I just post nonsense. It’s also a good way to keep track of your ‘following,’ or fan base or what have you. I can promote things or talk about my life and people might actually pay attention.”

“Who do you follow?”

“Uh, nobody. I scroll through particular topics instead. I don’t like anybody enough to read every 140-character whim that fills their head.”

The room feels a little hotter with the close proximity, so Jensen throws his arm over the back of the couch to create more space between them. “I’d follow you.”

Misha looks up at him with a shit-eating grin. “You’d like to read every 140-character whim that fills my head?”

“Sure, why not?” He reaches for Misha’s phone. “Let me see what you’ve said so far.”

Their hands brush right before Misha yanks the phone away and refuses to let Jensen see it. Jensen immediately reaches for it again, crossing his arm over Misha’s front and trying not to spill the wine that’s still in his other hand. He’s basically hugging Misha at this point, but he doesn’t care. He wants the damn phone.

Eventually they both set their wine glasses safely out of the way so they can wrestle properly. It’s a lot of hand-slapping and drunken giggling before Jensen overpowers Misha and pushes him down flat against the couch. He hovers over him and finally snatches the phone out of his hand. They’re both out of breath and a little sweaty, but Jensen’s too focused on the screen in front of him to care. Misha squirms under him, and Jensen moves his knee so it’s not jammed into the inside of Misha’s thigh.

“‘Minions’? Really?”

“Oh I’m sorry, would ‘comrades’ be better? That was my second option.”

Jensen deliberately digs his elbow into Misha’s chest as he readjusts his position once again. “‘Apologies are beneath me.’ Jesus, you’re an asshole on the internet.”

“I’m an asshole in real life, too. You haven’t noticed?”

“Maybe I don’t spend enough time around you.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t like being crushed beneath 200 pounds of judgmental drunkenness.”

Jensen leans back until he’s sitting up, his feet tucked under his butt and still trapped between Misha’s legs. Misha props himself up on his elbows and stares at the phone in Jensen’s hands.

“I bet you’ll have a couple million followers by next week,” Jensen states as he hands the phone back.

“Well, I should hope so. I can’t start my world domination otherwise.”

They rearrange themselves so they’re sitting next to each other again, but with breathing room between them.

“God, you really are an asshole,” Jensen says with a laugh.

“Have I ever told you why I got into acting in the first place?”

“Didn’t you get sick of politics?”

“I never told you I was in poli—you didn’t. You didn’t.”

Jensen smiles smugly.

“So I’m not the only one here who knows how to use Google.”

“I liked that video you made. You had really defined cheekbones back then. What happened?”

“Fuck you.”

Jensen starts giggling as Misha scoots farther away from him.

“I got into acting because I want to reach people in order to do good things,” Misha says seriously without looking over at Jensen. “You need a following if you want to make a difference. So yeah, a couple million followers on Twitter would be nice.”

A beat passes before Jensen responds, “You’re so fucking good.”

Misha’s head whips around to give Jensen a skeptical stare.

“You are, man. You care so much about people. About everybody. I just. I don’t know. Really admire that about you.”

The smile that pulls at Misha’s features is worth the embarrassment that Jensen feels. They stay silent for a few minutes.

“I should probably head home. It’s getting late,” Misha says quietly.

“You could stay here if you want.”

Misha gives him a curious look.

Jensen clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “The futon is pretty comfortable. I’ve passed out on it enough times to know.”

Misha’s shoulders relax. “I’m getting too old to crash on a friend’s futon. I’ll see you in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever we’re going to work tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Uh. You sure you can get home OK?”

Suddenly they’re at the door, and Jensen can’t remember following Misha there.

“I’ll call a cab. Thank you for having me over.”

“Yeah. Anytime.”

Misha offers Jensen a soft smile before saying, “Bye, Jensen,” and very slowly stroking his knuckles down his face.

Jensen spends the rest of the night wondering if friends usually stroke their knuckles down each others’ faces.

Chapter Text

“Never again,” Jensen says to Ben Edlund after rehearsal one day.

“Oh come on, it's not that bad.”

“Never. Again.”

Playing opposite of himself is the worst thing Jensen’s ever had to do while acting, and he hasn't even done it for real yet. When he received the script for “The End,” he could've killed Edlund. Double the amount of lines, double the amount of coverage, staring at a body double all week instead of an actual scene partner. All around, terrible.

“Gentlemen,” Misha greets as he joins Jensen and Ben on set. He grabs Ben by the shoulder. “You've outdone yourself this time, sir.”

“Yeah, says the stoned hippie. Of course you'd like this fucking episode,” Jensen grumbles.

“Originally I wanted Castiel sitting in Bobby's house killing a cockroach and then bringing it back to life over and over,” Ben comments. “But Kripke said that might be a little bleak for our angel. We're doing the literal apocalypse, but making Cas crazy is apparently too much.”

“C’mon, you know how the fans are,” Jensen teases. “Can't hurt the gay angel.”

Misha glares at him. Jensen winks.

“Jensen, you'll be OK this week, right?” Ben asks seriously. “You can get in the right headspace for this?”

“What, playing two different versions of myself in the same scene? No problem.”

“Just, uh, don't let it get to you.”

Jensen simply nods in response. He's kind of offended that Edlund thinks he can't handle the material. Sure, he doesn't want to do the legwork, but that doesn't mean he can't do it.

“You're not gonna go method this week, are you?” Misha teases once Ben walks away.

“I'm gonna be on edge all week, so yeah. Let's pretend I'm method. What about you? I can get you some reefer.”

“Ah yes, let me come to work stoned. Great idea.”

Jensen tilts his head back and groans dramatically. “God, this week is gonna suck.”

Misha gives him a condescending pat on the back. “I believe in you.”

By day two, Misha stops teasing Jensen completely. He probably notices the extra yawns and the bags under his eyes and decides that this isn't the week to joke around. For that, Jensen is grateful.

They film a sequence where Jensen has to run away from zombies—Croats , whatever—while dodging debris and trash cans and cars. It’s a fairly wide open street they’re using, and the camera’s on a track, so the directors tell Jensen to "just go for it.”

After three takes, he feels like he might puke. He fucking hates running.

The first A.D. must notice how winded he is, because she calls for five and points him toward a water station. As he downs a bottle of Dasani, a couple of the camera guys warily walk over.

“How’s it going, guys?” he greets.

“Think you could slow it down a notch?” Brad asks, sounding fake annoyed.

“What?”

“The guys can’t keep up with you. Hell, the track can’t keep up with you.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Steve’s not gonna tell you because he thinks it looks cool, but you’re making the rest of us look bad. Slow the fuck down, dude.”

Jensen blinks at him.

Brad slaps his shoulder and leaves, the other camera guy following close behind. Jensen looks over at the stunt guys. They’re in a huddle around one of the P.A.’s, listening intently as he explains something to them. After a second, at least four of them turn and give Jensen a quick look.

Jensen slows down for the next take.

It takes a really fucking long time to finish the scene, so Jensen gets a half-hour break after to take a power nap in his trailer. Somehow he ends up at Misha's trailer. He blames tiredness.

"You smell like a shoe," Misha greets from the armchair in the corner. He sets his book down and looks up curiously at Jensen. "Did you go for a run?"

"Do I run fast?"

Misha smirks. "Not that I've noticed."

"Stunt guys couldn't keep up with me today. A couple of 'em had to go to the medical staff."

That makes Misha laugh so hard his whole body shakes. "You're joking."

Jensen shakes his head. "They were chasing me, so I ran as fast as I could. We kept having to redo it because they needed me to slow down."

"Well, look at you," Misha says, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his eyes roam up and down Jensen's body. "I guess our jogs have paid off."

Jensen rolls his eyes.

By day three, it’s obvious that Misha has stopped shaving and stopped doing anything with his hair. Coupled with the linen shirt and low-slung jeans, he looks like a mess.

After about 10 takes of the scene where Cas tells Dean he lost his grace, Steve Boyum actually comes on set and pulls Jensen to the side for privacy.

“How are you doing?” he asks seriously.

“I'm fine. Something wrong?”

“No! Well, no. Sort of. You keep—do you need some Chapstick? You've been licking your lips a lot. And, um, scanning Mi—Cas’ face too much. You seem a little unfocused.”

Jensen feels heat rise to his cheeks and hopes it isn't noticeable. “I, uh—just distracted I guess. I'll try to be more aware of it.”

Misha gives him a curious look when he comes back, but Jensen waves him off. For the next hour the only thought in his head is, don't look at his mouth don't look at his mouth don't look at his mouth.

That night, Jensen works later than all the other actors. He watches Misha and Rob walk off set laughing together and feels a pang of jealousy in his chest. He's so tired.

When he finally gets to his trailer that night, he finds Misha and Rob lounging around drinking his beer.

“The hell are y’all doing here?”

“We didn't want you to feel alone when you got off work,” Rob explains. “Like you were the only one left on set.”

“That's—weirdly nice.” Jensen accepts a beer from Misha before taking a seat on the couch.

“It was Misha’s idea,” Rob says quietly.

“We watched the dailies today,” Misha says. “Of course they haven't done any editing, but you're doing a great fucking job.”

Jensen scoffs at the compliment and drinks his beer.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Misha asks.

Jensen gives him a skeptical look.

“You know, back rubs, personal grooming, sexual favors.”

“Hey, I didn't agree to any of that,” Rob interrupts in a panic.

Misha and Jensen both laugh. They share a look that Jensen is not ready to unpack.

“I think I'll survive. I know it's weird, but I am a professional.”

They let the topic drop after that, but nobody gets up to leave. They end up hanging out drinking beer until Rob nods off during a card game.

The next day is a lot smoother. Jensen feels lighter somehow. On a whim, he follows Misha to his trailer when they're both cut.

“I don’t have beer in my trailer,” Misha says when he notices Jensen next to him.

“I was hoping to get that back rub you promised.”

Misha fights a smile. “I’m not that easy, Jackles.”

Jensen spreads out on the couch once they’re in the trailer. He’s not surprised when Misha starts stripping his hippie costume off in the middle of the room, but he still acts affronted about it. Misha just rolls his eyes and throws his shirt at Jensen’s face.

On the armchair opposite of Jensen is a pile of clothes, so he tosses the shirt over to it. The trench coat catches his eye, so he goes over and sorts through the costume pieces.

“Jesus, why is this shirt so huge?” he asks as he holds up a white button down.

“I told you about that, didn’t I? How fucking ridiculous my costume is?” Misha grabs the shirt out of Jensen’s hands and puts it on. “Look at this.”

“What the hell,” Jensen mumbles as he helps Misha button up the shirt. “This is, like, five sizes too big. Clif could fit into this.”

Misha pulls at the front of the shirt, showing an extra two feet of fabric. “If I had known this was the only thing Cas would ever wear, I would’ve taken the fitting more seriously.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“I had to come in for a fitting about a week before my first day on set. I let them put whatever they wanted on me because I didn’t care. Now look where we are.”

Jensen laughs as he tugs at Misha’s stupid shirt. “Do the pants fit?”

“They’re a little baggy, but not nearly as bad.”

“This is so stupid.” Jensen continues giggling and yanking at the fabric.

He pulls a little too hard, and Misha stumbles forward.

“Oops, sorry.”

When Jensen looks up, Misha’s face is just a couple inches away from his.

Don’t look at his mouth don't look at his mouth don't look at his mouth.

He looks at his mouth.

Misha smirks and takes a step back. He turns away from Jensen as he removes the ridiculous shirt.

By the end of the week, Jensen is dead on his feet. His brain is fried. He's considering switching careers.

Never again, he texts Edlund. Hell, he texts Kripke, too. 

When Jared rolls up for his one and a half days of filming, Jensen has to bite back his jealousy and suck it up for their scene. 

After about 10 minutes of Jared's coverage, the A.D. calls cut and Jared huffs a laugh and tilts his head down at Jensen. "You alright, man?"

"Yeah. Good. Just—it's nothing."

Jared lets it drop. Until they get another break.

"Seriously, dude, what's up with you?"

"Nothing! I'm exhausted and been working all fucking week, and you come in here and—"

They reset the scene and start over. When they're done, Jared raises his eyebrows and makes a "go on" gesture with his hand.

"You're showing me up," Jensen grudgingly admits.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're only in one scene and you're doing an annoyingly good job. You know I've had to do double coverage all week? I can't keep up."

Jared closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Jensen, I love you, but you're a dumbass."

The slate drops, and they go again.

"What do you mean I'm a dumbass?" Jensen whisper-shouts as a makeup girl powders his face.

"I've seen the dailies. This is the best performance you've ever given."

Jensen's not sure what to say to that, so he just squints at Jared until they have to run their lines again. 

Later, at craft services, Jensen goes up behind Jared in line and grumbles, "Still pissed you only had to work one day this week."

Jared only being on set for one scene is probably why Misha took it upon himself to be Jensen’s best friend for the week. No sexual favors, but he brings him coffee and makes sure he's doing OK and listens to Jensen complain after work every day.

On the last day, Jensen actually feels a little sad. He was enjoying the attention.

“You made it,” Misha congratulates as they sit in his trailer.

“Hey, man, thanks for, uh…”

Misha raises an eyebrow at him as he hands him a tumbler. “For what?”

Jensen takes a sip of the scotch and winces. “You know, for, uh, all you've done this week.”

“I haven't really done all that much, Jay.”

He shifts uncomfortably and flattens his hair. Misha doesn't sit down next to him.

“Well, yeah, but—I just—it still matters to me, alright?”

With a smug smile, Misha goes around the back of the couch and puts his hands on Jensen’s shoulders. “Relax. I don't need the ego boost.”

“What are you…?” Jensen trails off and closes his eyes as Misha’s fingers knead into his shoulder blades.

“Your back is one giant knot.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think that scene in the car is gonna be cut?”

“Hmm?”

“The one we did today. I said that stu—silly line about Dean and Cas only having each other, blah blah.”

“Oh, right.”

There’s a pointed pause before Misha continues, “So...do you think it’s gonna get cut?”

“Yeah.” Jensen puffs his chest out and rolls his shoulders back. “I mean, I don’t know? You delivered it well.”

“That’s not the point.” 

“What’s your point then?”

Misha huffs in frustration. “I don’t know.”

“OK.” 

After a couple minutes of silence, Jensen says, "You did good this week."

"What?"

"Acting, I mean. It was cool to see you do something different."

Misha's hands stop on Jensen's shoulders. "Are you being nice just because I'm giving you a back rub?"

"No, dude, I'm serious. I thought you were great." And because he's on the edge of sleep, he adds, "You looked really good, too. Scruffy."

Misha makes a small, surprised noise before moving his hands once again. They don't say anything else before Jensen falls asleep.

The next day, Jensen receives a text from Eric Kripke early in the morning.

I'm sorry we're not a show that gets any sort of media attention - based on the dailies alone, you deserve an Emmy for this episode. Unbelievable performance.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad week.

Chapter Text

“It was 19 yards! Nineteen fucking yards. I could kick that.” 

“Yeah, as if the kicker is responsible.”

“No, no, what I’m saying is that if it had been a 50-yarder, then I can forgive it. Maybe. But at 19 yards, that’s in the bag. There’s no ‘what would’ve happened’ here. We know what would’ve happened.”

“Still time on the clock. Seattle would’ve only needed a field goal.”

“Dude, why are you defending Romo? He choked harder than anybody’s choked in the past decade.”

“Yeah, and he’s why we were even in the game in the first place. One mistake doesn’t erase the great season he gave us.”

“Dude! I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now.”

Misha looks around the tent to see if there’s anybody else he could eat lunch with, preferably people who aren’t talking about the 2007 NFC Wild Card game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Seattle Seahawks. A few months ago, Misha would not have understood any of those words strung together in that manner. But now.

“How many more times do you two plan on talking about this game? I just need to know so I can prepare myself for the future,” Misha says bitterly as he takes a seat next to Jensen.

“Probably never if Shackles insists on siding with Romo,” Jared responds petulantly. He flicks his fork so a bit of macaroni salad flies at Jensen’s face.

Jensen bats it away angrily. “Hey! We’re pretty damn good this year. Might actually win a playoff game for once.”

For the first time in his life, Misha actually knows something about football. It’s infuriating. He tries so hard to ignore Jensen and Jared when they get in these moods, but it happens so often between the months of September and February that it’s difficult to avoid learning a thing or two. Sometimes Misha thinks he might hate Tony Romo even more than Jared does, solely because he’s so sick of hearing his stupid name all the time.

He perhaps, maybe, probably spends too much time with Jared and Jensen.

Jared becomes fed up enough to get up and leave without so much as a goodbye to Jensen and Misha. Once he’s gone, Jensen bumps his shoulder against Misha’s and asks gently, “You OK?”

“Don’t you two ever get tired of rehashing the same sports gobbledegook every day?”

Jensen huffs a laugh and takes a bite of his salad. “No.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Uh, isn’t it a little early in the morning for your social theory degree?”

“Isn’t it a little early in the morning for you and Jared to be fighting over the botched snap at the 2007 NFC Wild—”

“Alright, alright, fine. I don’t know why it matters to me. You’ve never cared about something trivial?”

"No?"

Jensen shakes his head fondly. “You’re in a weird mood.”

“I don’t feel like working today.”

“Oh poor Misha, he works so hard once a month.”

Misha hangs his head as he laughs. When he composes himself, he says, “My first couple weeks on set I’d get so mad when I heard you guys complain about work.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. I was so jealous that you had regular work and honestly couldn’t believe that working actors could complain so much. Now here I am.”

Jensen laughs so hard that he rocks the bench back. “Jesus, you must’ve been jaded.”

“Extremely. You try faking a Russian accent to land shitty one-offs for a few years, and then you’ll understand.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got it made now. You work half as much as us and all the fans love you.”

“Yes, you should be very jealous of me. My life is far superior to yours.”

Jensen slaps Misha on the back as he takes his food to the trash. Misha turns to tell him something, but he’s already conversing with some of the crewmembers.

Sure, Misha makes enough money and enjoys the time off. But job security would be a hell of a lot nicer.

With the season arc being the literal apocalypse, Misha thinks they’re all doomed. Kripke only wanted five seasons, and he’s getting five seasons. Every character will be picked off one by one until there’s just two left to save the world. And then they all have to go back to L.A. and find new jobs. Misha's going to enjoy his time while he's got it, but that doesn't mean he's not nervous as hell about his future. 

One afternoon, Misha grabs a bowl of soup from craft services and heads to his trailer so he can go over some lines while he eats. He runs into Jensen on the way, though, and doesn’t stop him from following him to his trailer.

“Are you gonna go to that wine tasting thing with us?” Jensen asks as he closes the door behind them.

“What?”

“The wine tasting thing. Jared and I are going tomorrow night. We invited you, didn’t we?”

It takes Misha a second to recall the conversation. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Um. Do I have to dress up?” He takes a seat and holds his bowl in one hand.

Jensen sighs. “It wouldn’t kill you to own a suit.”

“The only tie I have is plaid.”

Jensen opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he closes it and takes a seat on the couch.

Misha squints at him.

“You know, for a guy who claims to not be straight, you sure do have a shitty fashion sense.”

Misha drops his soup. The good news: it’s not scalding hot. The bad news: he’s in costume and it’s soaking all the way through to his underwear.

“Jesus, Mish!” Jensen exclaims as he jumps up to grab a towel.

“Oops,” is all Misha says for himself.

He’s really, thoroughly covered in the soup, so he takes the trench coat off before heading toward the bathroom. Jensen, for some dumb reason, follows him.

“Are you OK?” he asks as he helps Misha get the tie off (what the fuck).

“I think I can handle this on my own.”

“You’re pretty soaked.”

Misha looks down at himself in mock surprise. “Oh would you look at that, I am.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s not your fault. I’m the dumbass trying to eat soup in a chair instead of at the table.”

It’s an out, and Misha prays that Jensen takes it.

“Um. Do you need help with—”

“No, I’m good.” Misha grabs the bathroom door as an indication that he wants privacy. “Thank you, Jensen.”

“Yeah. OK. I’ll just, uh…”

Misha slams the door shut behind him so he can hide like a fucking coward. He doesn't need Jensen casually mentioning his sexuality in the middle of the fucking workday.

He has to strip completely naked and towel himself off before putting on some sweats and a t-shirt. He hears the click of the door as Jensen leaves, and he drops his head back against the wall as he lets out a sigh of frustration. In a moment of childishness, he leaves his wet costume in a pile on the floor before heading to wardrobe. Kelly comes by all their trailers in the afternoon anyway, so he knows his catastrophe will be forgotten in the laundry.

As he’s leaving wardrobe in a brand new costume, he passes by a very energetic Jared.

“You coming to the wine tasting tomorrow?” he asks as he bites the end off a sour straw.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Whoa, dude, sorry I brought it up,” he says with a laugh.

“But yeah, I’m coming.”

Jared blinks. “Good. See you later.”

Misha runs a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath, and tells himself to calm the fuck down.

The following morning, Misha is quietly eating a bowl of oatmeal (much safer than soup) in the craft services tent when Richard Speight storms in and holds up a pair of neon orange boxer briefs.

“What the fuck is this? Who’s leaving orange underwear in my trailer?” Speight yells good-naturedly.

Misha feels his face flush. He huddles around his oatmeal.

“Those are Misha’s.”

Fucking Jensen.

Somebody smacks him on the back to get his attention. Misha turns toward the commotion and tries to play dumb. “Oh. Yeah. Those are, um, mine.”

Rich makes a confused, amused face at him, balls the orange underwear up and throws it at Misha while he walks over to his table.

“Are you directing traffic in bed? Oh! Does Vicki have a convict kink?”

Rich straddles the bench next to Misha, so Misha scoots away from him. “It’s just orange, calm down.”

“Whoa, stop the presses!” Rich yells loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Misha Collins has no witty retort for his neon orange underwear! Make jokes now while you have the chance!”

Nobody takes Rich up on the offer, but Jared runs over and steals the underwear and flings it across the tent. A game of catch ensues, so Misha finishes his oatmeal and leaves.

Later that day, he finds his underwear hanging up on a wall in the A/V trailer. In a goddamn frame. It’s pretty fucking funny actually.

As he’s heading to his trailer at the end of the day, Jensen appears next to him and squeezes his shoulder. “Wine tasting.”

“I know. I don’t get why you and Jared are so excited about this.”

“We’re getting off work at 5 on a Tuesday, that’s reason enough to celebrate.”

“Good point.”

Jensen lets go of Misha’s shoulder as Rich comes out from behind a grip truck.

“Hey, Collins, I got something for you,” he calls as he throws yet another pair of orange underwear at Misha’s face.

Misha catches and pockets them. “Thanks, I’ll add them to my collection.”

Before Misha has the chance to ask Rich where the hell he got the orange plaid boxers, Jensen asks, “You do actually have a collection of orange underwear, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That one time, you were—you had—I, um…” Jensen clears his throat and side-eyes Speight.

Rich cocks his head to the side and points suspiciously between the two of them. “Jensen knows what your underwear looks like. Explain.”

“That’s easy. We’re fucking,” Misha deadpans.

Jensen whips his head around, his mouth agape.

Misha shrugs at him.

Rich laughs so hard that he starts to cough. When he composes himself, he says, “You know what, until proven otherwise I’m electing to believe that.” He looks up at the sky in thought. “Maybe it’s Jensen with the convict kink.”

Jensen punches him in the shoulder. Rich makes an offended face before walking away.

After an awkward moment of silence, Misha asks, “When the hell did I wear orange boxers around you?”

“Oh, um. You didn’t. There was—one day I was at your house, and you came into the kitchen after a shower and you…”

“Didn’t have any clothes on?”

Jensen swallows and nods. “They were black with an orange waistband. They were really long, I thought they were shorts.”

“I have to wear long boxer briefs because my legs are huge. Everything rides up.” Why did you feel the need to explain that to him, you jackass.

Jensen makes a weird noise in the back of his throat.

When they get to Misha’s trailer, Misha turns expectantly and eyes Jensen up and down. “Are we leaving straight from here?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess. I’ll, uh, meet you out front. I’m just gonna…” He walks backward down the steps and scurries off toward his own trailer.

Misha watches him until he disappears around a corner. He’s not sure why he’s been distancing himself from Jensen lately, other than the fact that he’s gone way overboard flirting and is unbelievably nervous that Jensen is going to notice and get pissed at him. He wore his boxer briefs in front of Jensen? Jesus fucking Christ.

Half an hour later finds Misha, Jensen, Jared, Richard and Rob crammed into an SUV heading to a fancy wine tasting. The drive is short but feels incredibly long on account of Misha being pressed up against Jensen’s side the whole time.

As Jared shouts loudly about the different foods you’re allowed to eat with both white and red wine, Jensen turns his face toward Misha and squints at his hair.

“What?” Misha says quietly.

Jensen frowns and reaches up to move strands of Misha’s hair around. In a rare moment of submission, Misha tilts his head down and lets Jensen do his work. Richard spots them, his eyes widening as realization hits him.

He mouths something along the lines of, “You guys really are fucking.”

Misha rolls his eyes at him and bats Jensen’s hand away.

To be fair, Misha’s never been to a wine tasting before. That’s his excuse for how quickly and completely he gets hammered. Was he supposed to spit the wine out after tasting it? Is that what these fancy people do at these parties?

“Please don’t spit the wine out,” Jensen grumbles as he wraps an arm around Misha’s waist to keep him upright.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Jesus, you’re drunk.”

Misha giggles.

“You’re as drunk as you were at—never mind. You know what, let’s get you home.”

He tries to shove Jensen away. “No, I’m having fun.”

Jared bounds over then and asserts himself way too close into their personal space. “What’s up, hic, guys?”

“Geez, you’re drunk, too. Wait. Am I drunk?” Jensen looks into the distance, a little wistful.

“This is the best party. I love, hic, wine.”

“Alright, we gotta get the fuck out of here,” Jensen says under his breath.

They run into Rich and Rob on their way out. They’re perfectly sober and have no intention of leaving anytime soon. 

On the car ride home, Jensen weirdly scratches the hair at the nape of Misha’s neck because “it’ll keep you awake so you don’t puke,” which makes absolutely no sense because it’s really having the opposite effect and putting Misha right to sleep. He tries to tell Jensen to stop, but he never gets around to it.

The driver gets to Misha’s apartment first. When Jensen tries to get out and help Misha upstairs, Misha very forcibly pushes him away. Jensen looks hurt, but Misha is too drunk to do anything about it. He stumbles up to his apartment, gets in bed, and falls asleep for all of five seconds before waking up and puking.

Cool.

He has one of the worst hangovers of his life when he wakes up the next day, but there’s absolutely no time to do anything about it before he has to be on set. He hides behind a giant pair of sunglasses and hopes he can get some fresh coffee from craft services before he goes to hair and makeup. Unsurprisingly, Jensen is standing next to the coffee station nursing a mug and looking pissed off at the world. Of course, that’s usually how he looks before he’s had enough coffee in the morning, whether there was a wine tasting or not.

“How was the rest of your night?” Jensen asks gruffly.

“I puked in my bed.”

Jensen nearly spits his coffee. “Dumbass.”

“What was in that wine? We didn’t even have that much.”

“Hey, guys, how’s it going!” Jared shouts as he bumps right into Misha, causing his coffee to slosh all over his hand.

“Ow, Jared, that’s fucking—”

“Did y’all have fun at the party? I had a lot of fun at the party.”

“Dude, are you still drunk?” Jensen asks.

“What? No!” Jared hiccups and swallows. He looks a little green.

Jensen lets out an amused, fake laugh. “Today’s gonna be fun,” he says gleefully.

Misha is supposed to be in rehearsal until after lunch, but around 10:30 a.m. a P.A. frantically runs over from stage four and tells him that he’s needed for scene seven.

When he gets to the stage, he finds Jensen standing around with the crew laughing. He lays a hand on Misha’s shoulder when he spots him.

“They sent Jared to his trailer to sleep off his...he’s still drunk,” Jensen explains. “So we’re changing the call sheet. Hope you know your lines.”

Misha glares at him.

"Hey, don't look at me. Blame Jay-rod, the lightweight."

He does, sort of, know his lines, but the A.D. is more forgiving than usual when he calls for a script. They're filming a scene with a 10-year-old kid, which he supposes is better than an adult guest star seeing how fucking unprofessional they are. Still, the kid looks at Misha like he's a fucking idiot. 

Jared has sobered up significantly by the end of the day, so the three of them are able to film a scene together. Of course, Jared is still Jared, and so Misha has to deal with him being Jared not only during his own coverage but between takes as well.

“Hey, Mish, you should check out my new place tonight," Jensen says right after they've finished a take where Dean yells at Cas. It's a jarring transition. 

Misha pointedly ignores Jared’s hand creeping up his thigh in favor of squinting at Jensen. “Interesting time to bring that up.”

“I keep forgetting you haven’t seen it. This is probably the last day this week we’ll get off early.”

Misha licks his lips in order to fight a smile. “I do love getting off early.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Just come over, alright?”

“I would love to come all over—”

“I feel weird fondling your balls during this conversation,” Jared interrupts as he stands up straight and steps away from Misha.

Misha winks at him.

That night, Jensen nervously rattles off information about his apartment all the way up to his front door. It’s like he’s never had a guest over in his life. Misha finds it incredibly endearing. He’s busy smiling stupidly at Jensen when the door opens, which is why he jumps back and hits the wall when a woman’s voice speaks.

“Surpri—oh, I should’ve called,” she says apologetically.

Jensen immediately crosses the room and kisses Danneel gently. He rubs his hand into her hip as he says, “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here. You can finally meet Misha.”

They both turn to look at him, so Misha straightens up and crosses the room.

“You must be Danneel,” he says superfluously.

“And you must be the homewrecker.”

Jensen huffs a loud, nervous laugh. “She’s kidding. Obviously. It’s just a—it’s a joke. It’s not…”

Danneel and Misha make eye contact. Misha can’t help the smirk pulling at his lips. Danneel winks at him.

“There are people you meet and it’s like you’ve known them all your life. It’s like time doesn’t exist and the day you meet is the same as every day following. You just know them, and they know you. It’s probably because you knew them in a past life.”

Misha always thought Vicki had just smoked too much when she came up with the dumb theory 15 years ago. Now, he’s not so sure.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Misha says smugly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I could say the same to you. Don’t worry, it’s been mostly bad stuff.”

“Oh, of course. Same here. Jensen’s constantly telling me how terrible you are.”

“Ha ha, very funny, time to go home, Mish,” Jensen says flatly while shoving Misha back toward the door.

“Whoa, hey, no!” Danneel interjects. She grabs Misha by the wrist and pulls him away from Jensen. “You’re not getting out of this, babe.”

Jensen admits defeat so easily that Misha’s sure he knew Danneel would react that way. He never actually intended to kick Misha out.

“What are you smiling about?” Danneel asks as she plops down on the couch and drags Jensen down next to her.

Misha awkwardly looks around for a place to sit and ends up pulling an armchair closer to the couch. He crosses his legs and clasps his hands over his knees before answering, “I’m not smiling, who’s smiling?”

Danneel tips her head back and laughs softly. She then places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives him a knowing look, but Jensen’s eyes are on Misha.

“I was just inviting Mish over tonight so he could see my new place.”

Danneel makes an offended noise. “You haven’t even invited me over yet.”

“Oh shit, I really am a homewrecker,” Misha says at the same time Jensen says, “You know you have an open invitation literally anytime.”

She looks between the two of them like they’re insane. “So are you gonna give us a tour or no?”

It takes them an hour to make it through the relatively conservative apartment. Jensen says maybe 10 words. Danneel and Misha stay behind him not listening to the 10 words he has to say. Years later, if someone were to ask Misha about that night, he wouldn’t be able to say what color the walls were or how many rooms there were or even if Jensen had a sex swing in the middle of the living room, but he would be able to recall the light pink of Danneel’s lipstick and the way she winked at him whenever his eyes lingered too long on Jensen’s back.

Years later, he would remember the night he fell in love with Danneel Harris.

After the tour, they all squeeze onto the couch and turn the TV on. Danneel sits in the middle and continues talking exclusively to Misha. They’re all drinking wine and ignoring whatever’s playing in the background.

“God, I’m so jealous. Is there anywhere you haven’t been?” Danneel asks after Misha’s told a very pretentious story about the places he and Vicki have traveled.

“I tried to go to North Korea once, but that didn’t work out too well.” At Danneel’s widened eyes, Misha concedes, “I’m kidding! Although I’ve heard there actually is a bar in North Korea that’s open to travelers. People have been detained there, but it might be worth the risk. Wouldn’t be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“So what’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

“He accidentally memorized my lines once instead of his own.”

“Vick and I tried to infiltrate a cult once,” Misha says, ignoring Jensen.

“What?” Danneel and Jensen ask in unison.

“You’ve never told me that.”

Misha peers at Jensen curiously. “There are a lot of things I’ve never told you.”

Jensen pouts and finishes his wine.

“We were in India and wanted to know the inner workings of a particular cult. We actually got to the final stage of initiation or whatever you want to call it, but it got too weird so we backed out.”

“What was the final stage?” Danneel asks excitedly.

“Oh, you don’t want to know. Trust me.”

Danneel continues pestering him about it, but Misha doesn’t budge. The truth is that it was an orgy, and Misha chickened out. Threesomes he can handle and, hell, even four people in bed is fine, but orgies have never really been his cup of tea. Jensen squints at him from the other side of Danneel as if it’s the first time that he’s seen Misha. Or like he’s just learned some big secret about his friend and doesn’t know how to handle it. Misha decides right then never to tell Jensen the full extent of all the weird, illegal, immoral things he and Vicki have done over the years.

Eventually Jensen falls asleep against the arm of the couch, so Danneel and Misha are forced to whisper.

“I wish I could get Jensen to travel. He just wants to settle down in his home state and never move again. I get that he spends most of the year in Canada and at conventions, but that doesn’t mean he can never travel for pleasure.”

“My wife and I are trying to start a family, so we’re taking one last big trip soon. I’m gonna miss it.”

“What does your wife think of you and Jensen?”

“What?” The wine makes Misha’s face grow hot all of a sudden.

“You know, how you…” She makes a vague gesture, her face flushing.

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“How you have huge crushes on each other!” She covers her mouth and looks at Jensen after she’s said it. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake up.

Misha should deny it. He should deny it and keep denying it until his dying day. “What has Jensen told you?”

“No, no, we’re talking about you now. Does Vicki know?”

He clenches his jaw and looks at Jensen one more time. “Yes. She and I aren’t exactly traditional.”

“Neither am I! Jensen’s very conservative though. He’s kind of a mess about the whole thing. Don’t tell him I told you that!”

As if Misha would tell Jensen any of this. She’s acting like he and I have talked about this already.

“You know I’m never going to...do anything with him, right?” Misha asks in a voice so low he’s surprised Danneel even hears him.

She dramatically rolls her eyes. “If you don’t, I’m gonna have to break up with him.”

“What—why—”

“I told you, he’s a mess! You know how he is. Not exactly an open book and definitely not ready to admit to anyone—least of all himself—that he’s anything other than perfectly straight. But I swear, he’s like a timebomb. One of these days he’s gonna break and you need to be prepared for when that happens.”

“What the hell are you even—”

“I’m saying that eventually he will give in and want to fuck you, and it’s gonna be zero to a hundred real quick.”

“And you’re telling me that I should—that I need to be prepared so that I can—so that—” Misha cuts himself off and drains the rest of his wine. He can’t remember the last time he was at such a loss for words. He's barely even thought about this himself; he can't possibly handle a conversation with Jensen's serious girlfriend about it. 

“Wait, you want to fuck him, don’t you? Because I’m assuming you do, and I’m giving you permission. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but again, you know how he is. He’s gonna panic, and it’s gonna be in front of you. I need to know that you’re prepared to handle it.”

Misha chokes back a nervous laugh. “You’re taking this a lot more seriously than—”

“I know, I know.” She turns her head and stares at Jensen’s sleeping face for a minute. When she turns back, she looks worried. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re really easy to talk to and I just thought…”

Whatever spell Danneel has cast over him makes Misha adopt the same worried expression and lean forward to press his hand to her knee in reassurance. “It’s OK. I’m—um, it’s really good to hear that I’m not crazy. I’ll, uh, do the best I can. Under the circumstances.” What the fuck did I just say.

She places her hand on his cheek and rubs her thumb by his nose. “Thank you, Misha.” She leans forward and presses her lips to his.

He returns the kiss a little too enthusiastically. Something warm pools in his belly as he angles himself closer to her. What the fuck are we doing. He chases her mouth, but she pulls away with a laugh and pats his cheek again.

She touches her lips and mumbles something under her breath, but Misha doesn’t quite catch it.

He doesn’t ask.

Chapter Text

Because Misha’s an asshole, he wears a green plaid tie, red plaid shirt and fancy black blazer to the Christmas party. It’s not even a dress-up event—Jensen’s cozy in a hoodie and white beanie—and he’s still offended by Misha’s attire.

“You fucking kidding me?” Jensen asks with no preamble. 

Misha furrows his brow at him in confusion.

Jensen waves judgmentally at his outfit.

Misha pulls at the lapels of his jacket. “I look nice, huh?”

“You look like a tool.”

“Says the frat boy in the ugly toque.”

“It’s cold.”

“OK, Texas.”

Jensen shoves him in the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. They walk toward the studio together in companionable silence after that.

There is heavily spiked eggnog right at the front of the room, so Jensen heads to that real quick. He wanted to smoke before this shitshow, but he got called in to refilm a scene because of rewrites, so he didn’t have the chance to buy any reefer. Jared had laughed at him and apologized for not saving him any even as he held a bowl in his stupid giant hand.

Instinctively, Jensen pours Misha a drink and then feels like an idiot when he turns around and discovers that he’s gone.

“Oh, thanks, man,” Jared says as he sneaks up beside Jensen and takes the drink out of his hand.

“Yeah, no problem.” He didn’t want to go searching for Misha with two full glasses of eggnog in his hands anyway.

“You and Mish are emcee-ing, right?” Jared asks as they stand against a wall pointedly not mingling with everyone else.

“You just call him ‘Mish’?”

Jared knocks back half his eggnog. “Uh, yeah? You call him that all the time.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“OK. But you don’t.”

“Oh, excuse me, nickname police. Should I start referring to you as Mr. Ackles instead of Shackles? And what about Jay-rod? Are you the only one allowed to call me that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Jared snorts a derisive laugh. “So. Are you and Misha emcee-ing tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Do us all a favor and try not to flirt while you’re up there, OK?”

Jensen whips his head around a little too obviously, but Jared’s already sauntering away to go talk to the script supervisor. Jensen runs a hand over his hat and takes a deep breath before bringing the eggnog up to his lips.

“They’re ready for us,” Misha says, appearing out of nowhere.

“I’m not drunk yet though.”

“This might not be a good time to bring it up, but I think collectively, as a group, we probably drink too much.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, knocks back the rest of his eggnog and sets it on the nearest table. One of the crewmembers hands them each a microphone as they reach the center of the room. There’s no script for this party, and Jensen is historically terrible at talking candidly in front of a large group of people.

So he starts with, “How about Misha’s outfit, huh?”

Surprisingly, everyone laughs. A few people even whistle and catcall.

“At least I dressed up for the occasion,” Misha chastises. "Some of us actually have to work to look good."

Jensen bounces his eyebrows at Misha, momentarily forgetting that they aren't the only ones in the room. "So you think I look good?" 

As he reaches for the first award of the night, Misha replies, "Please, honey, not in front of everyone."

The room erupts in laughter, which is weird. Sure, it was funny, but it wasn't that funny. Jensen feels like he's missing out on an inside joke.

"You all didn't come here to hear us bicker, so let's get started with the awards," Misha continues. 

For the next several minutes they mostly read names off of cards and hand out ridiculous superlatives to different crewmembers. Whenever there’s a lull in their banter or an applause break in the crowd, Misha smiles softly at Jensen and Jensen returns it.

He tries not to think too much about it.

It goes so smoothly that Jensen stupidly wishes that he and Misha had panels together at conventions. Not that he wants to do more panels than he’s already doing, but it would be nice to work with someone other than Jared. Not that he would ever mention it to Misha or Jared or anyone who has control over what kind of panels happen at conventions.

When their presentation is done, Jensen follows Misha back over to the eggnog station. He presses a hand to his back and whispers, "We didn't fuck up too bad up there, did we?"

Misha turns to give him a confused look. He has to tilt his head back so their faces aren't so damn close to each other. "Why would you say that? We nailed it."

"Did we?"

"Yes," he responds as if Jensen is an idiot. "You're cute when you're shy." He pats his face patronizingly, but when he stops Jensen stupidly chases his hand with his face. Misha doesn't notice.

"What did I tell you about flirting?" Jared asks as he joins them at the eggnog station.

"Who's flirting?" Misha replies.

"Yeah, right, like you don't know."

"I really have no idea—"

"He means us, Mish," Jensen interrupts quietly. 

"What? That's ridiculous. I would never dream of flirting with someone so far out of my league."

"See! You're still doing it! Stop it!" Jared accuses.

Misha just laughs.

Jensen's heart is pounding in his chest, but he manages to laugh as well.

He just needs to make it through the rest of this party so he can go home and go to sleep. For the next hour, he resists the urge to gravitate toward Misha and stay by his side and make excuses to touch him. He tells himself that the outfit should make him completely uninterested in any kind of interaction, platonic or otherwise, but it doesn’t really help.

He ends up leaving the party early.

Jensen licks his lips and swallows. He rubs the heel of his hand into his left thigh. 

“These pants are a little too tight,” Misha announces as he emerges from the dressing room. He pulls at the denim near his hips and makes an ugly face at the mirror. 

“What do you wear? Thirty-two?”

“Uh, 34 usually. Did you give me a 32?”

“Maybe. That’s what I wear. You really bigger than me?” Jensen can’t help himself. He walks up behind Misha and looks at him through the mirror.

“No offense, but you have a nonexistent ass.” He tries squatting and barely bends his knees before standing back up. “I feel like I’m going to bust out of these.”

“If you didn’t run so much, you’d fit into these pants. And you wouldn’t have to wear really long boxer briefs.” Jensen slips his index finger through one of Misha’s belt loops and playfully yanks at it.

Misha shoves him away and makes another dissatisfied face at the mirror. “Can I change now? I still have a dozen shirts to try on and several pairs of pants that aren’t going to fit.”

“It’s not that many.” Jensen swipes his hands down Misha’s shoulders to straighten out his jacket. He then folds the back of his collar down and drags his fingers along the edge to make sure it’s flat.

Misha clears his throat and pulls the front of the jacket to snap it in place. “So how do I look?”

“Sharp. Like you weren’t raised in a thrift store.”

“But I was raised in a—”

“Get back in there,” Jensen interrupts with a slap to Misha’s ass. “Got a lot left to do.”

Misha rolls his eyes and drags his feet back into the dressing room. There’s nobody else in the dressing room hallway, but Jensen still looks around warily. He sits back down and pulls out his phone while he waits for Misha to try on another outfit. He has a text from Danneel, but he doesn’t open it right away. Lately he’s been nervous about texting her because he plans on proposing within the next couple of weeks, and he’s afraid he’ll say something dumb in a text and give it away.

“This shirt looks stupid on me!” Misha calls from inside his dressing room.

“Which one?”

“The burgundy button-down. I hate this color.”

“What are you talking about, you have a burgundy V-neck that looks great on you.”

Misha emerges with a frown plastered on his face. Jensen scans him from head to toe and bites his lip before tearing his eyes away.

“See? I look terrible.”

Jensen doesn’t answer.

“What?” Misha asks, sounding affronted.

“Nothing. You’re just—you’re wrong. It looks ama—great. It looks great.”

Misha’s face softens, but he still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not buying it.”

“Great. I’m buying it.”

Logically, Jensen knows that offering to buy his clothes is a blow to Misha’s pride. But Misha hasn’t exactly said no to the offer yet, so Jensen thinks it can’t bother him that much. In fact, he’s surprised the dude’s bothered at all. Jensen didn’t pin Misha as the type to get upset over a bruised ego. He doesn’t seem masculine enough for that.

Soon after the burgundy shirt, a guy comes into the dressing room hallway and gives Jensen a onceover before picking a room. He has a look on his face like he’s wondering why the hell a dude is sitting outside the dressing rooms in a men’s clothing store. It’s not like they’re trying on wedding dresses.

Or maybe Jensen’s just a paranoid bastard.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that, however, because Misha appears in a gray suit with a white button-down and silver tie, and nothing else matters after that.

“I never wear suits,” he says flatly as he walks up to the mirror.

Jensen stops him before he gets to it. He grabs the lapels of his jacket even though they were perfectly straight to begin with. If it comes up, he’ll blame character bleed. A few weeks ago they had to do an unnecessary amount of takes of Dean fixing Cas’ coat and tie. Well, not unnecessary. Jensen kept forgetting his lines. Which never happens to him. Character bleed. The point is character bleed.

“Well, except every day at work,” Misha continues.

It takes Jensen a second to remember what the fuck he was talking about to begin with. “I wouldn’t exactly call what you wear a ‘suit.’ Not like this at least.”

A smirk forms on Misha’s face, but Jensen’s too busy messing with his suit to really focus on it. “So you like this?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Misha cocks his head to the side and takes a step forward. “Are you OK, Jackles?”

“What? I’m—fine.”

He thinks he managed to say the word “fine,” but it might’ve come out as a strangled cry instead. He gulps down a lump in his throat and keeps staring at the way Misha’s neck disappears under his collar.

Suddenly Misha is so close that the toes of their shoes knock together. When Jensen finally looks up, he has to lean his head back in order to see Misha’s face. In a split second, Misha licks his lips, looks down at Jensen’s mouth, looks back up at his eyes. A hand ghosts over Jensen’s hip. He takes a deep breath and looks down at Misha’s mouth.

A door shuts behind them, and the guy from earlier steps out. Jensen jumps away from Misha so fast that he’s sure the guy thought he walked in on something.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” the guy says awkwardly as he pushes past them toward the mirror.

Jensen and Misha exchange an embarrassed look before Misha turns and heads back into the dressing room.

Misha still has several more things to try on, but Jensen says, “Mish, you about ready to go?”

“Um, yeah. I’ll just—let me get changed and I’ll meet you out front.”

Jensen gives a tightlipped smile to the other guy on his way out. The guy nods awkwardly.

Lucky for Jensen, Misha doesn’t mention whatever the fuck just happened. He walks up to the register with his arms full of clothes and one sleeve of his jacket falling off. Jensen rolls his eyes and meets him halfway so he can help him.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he asks quietly as he pulls Misha’s jacket up around his shoulders for him.

Misha hums in affirmation.

The guy from the dressing rooms walks past them then. Jensen is standing close behind Misha, and his hands are still on his shoulders.

Great.

When they get to the register, Jensen barely has his hand halfway to his wallet before Misha grabs his wrist to stop him.

“As if I’m actually gonna let you pay,” he mumbles as he pulls out a stack of bills.

“Cash? Really?”

“It reminds me of how rich I am.”

The cashier snorts a laugh. Misha winks at her.

“You’re an idiot,” Jensen comments as they leave.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

Before Jensen can even answer, Misha steers them over to an Italian restaurant on the other end of the shopping center. Two teenage girls stop them on their way and ask for pictures, which doesn’t happen all that often in Vancouver so Jensen’s a little thrown off by it.

The girls ask what he and Misha are up to, and they both answer “shopping” in unison. Misha holds up his bag of clothes as if the girls require evidence. They giggle and quickly say their goodbyes.

“Does that happen to you a lot?” Misha asks once the girls are out of earshot.

“Hmm? No. I don’t know? Maybe like half the time.”

Misha pushes the door to the restaurant open and gestures for Jensen to go in first. “Half the time what?”

“Like, when I’m out in public. Half the time at least one person stops me.”

The hostess leads them to a secluded booth next to a window, at least 10 feet away from the next occupied table.

“Do you get sick of it?”

“Sick of what?”

Misha smiles fondly at him. “People stopping you.”

“Oh, right. No. Do you?”

“I’ve only been stopped half a dozen times in the past year.”

“Really? Huh.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’m famous.”

As Jensen dramatically rolls his eyes, a server comes over and asks for their drink order. She gives them a look as if she just walked in on something private, which, maybe she did.

“That guy in the dressing room thought we were a couple,” Jensen says apropos of nothing. He wants to take it back, make a joke, but Misha responds too quickly.

“You were watching me try on clothes, of course he thought we were a couple. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t really—if I see two guys hanging out, my first thought isn’t, ‘oh, I bet they’re fucking.’”

“Hm. Mine is.”

“What—”

“But if you saw a guy and a girl, wouldn’t you assume they were together?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”

“How?”

The server comes back to take their orders. Since neither of them have actually looked at the menu, they just blindly pick something.

“I don’t know, it’s just different. I don’t think about anybody being gay.”

“Not everybody is straight though. To assume so is a dangerous line of thinking.” Mostly to himself, he says,  “I’m sure there’s a word for it.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Jensen sets his jaw.

Misha smirks at him, his elbows propped on the table. “You know, lots of people on the internet think we’re a couple, too." 

“Yeah, yeah, Dean and Cas are—”

“No, I mean you and me.”

“What?”

Misha rolls his tongue around his gums. Jensen looks at his mouth. “I regret bringing this up,” Misha says. “Let’s talk about sports. How about that touchdown Jerry Jones scored last week, huh?”

“Why do you even—how’d you find out that people think—how much fucking time do you spend on the internet?”

“Enough.” Misha takes a long drink of his water as if it’s liquor. “I’ve seen some things...that…”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

“So, like I was saying, football—”

“Should we—never mind.” Jensen looks around the restaurant and rubs his hands against his thighs.

“Jensen.”

“Should we be careful when we hang out?” he says quickly enough to be indecipherable. 

“Yes. Absolutely. We need to be at least 10 feet away from each other at all times. And we can’t make direct eye contact. Don’t ever—”

Jensen throws a napkin at his face.

“Thank you,” Misha deadpans. He folds the napkin and says, "I'll bet you 20 bucks our waitress gives us one check."

"Oh, so you think she thinks we're...?"

"I'm putting 20 bucks on it, so yeah, I think so."

"Alright. Deal."

Their food arrives soon after that, and they change the subject. While he eats, Misha repeatedly laments picking a restaurant where every dish is loaded with carbs, so naturally he finishes his own pasta and then reaches over to finish Jensen’s, too.

Jensen folds a napkin into the shape of a dick and passes it over to Misha without saying anything.

“This is lovely, thank you,” Misha says as he accepts it. “This is exactly the type of thing that will stop people from shipping us.”

“Shipping?”

“Never mind.”

The server brings their check and sets it on Jensen’s side of the table.

As he pulls out his wallet, he says, “I guess I look like the breadwinner.”

Misha throws the dick napkin back at his face. "Good thing, too, because you owe me 20 bucks."

Danneel has a pair of blue-polka dotted panties that, for some reason, Jensen loves. Unfortunately, he rips a hole in them one night as he goes down on her.

“Just your fingers, sweetie. Yeah, like that,” she says quietly. “Ah—little too much. Yeah, OK, that’s good.”

He bites his tongue to keep himself from doing too much. He’s hard as a rock and wants to eat his goddamn girlfriend out.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, sitting up in bed to get a better look at him. “You’re usually a lot more patient.”

He licks his lips and stares down at her vagina. “Nothing. Just wound up I guess.”

She laughs and reaches up to push the back of his head toward her crotch. He takes the hint and flattens his tongue against her lips.

After a few measured breaths and soft moans, Danneel manages to say, “You wound up because of your shopping trip with Misha?”

Jensen doesn’t answer. Instead, he pumps his fingers hard and fast and doubles the pressure of his tongue against her clit. It takes a few more minutes for her to come, but the entire time she’s writhing and moaning and sweating like a mess.

“Yeah, Mish wound me up,” Jensen says smugly as he lies next to her. He grabs her waist and kisses her breast before resting his head on her chest.

“You’re not even joking, are you?” She curls her arm up so she can run her fingers through his hair.

“Hmm, no. Looks good in a suit.”

“You’re not going to accidentally yell his name while you’re fucking me tonight, are you?”

Jensen huffs a laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re being more open about this. It was a tough few months last year.”

Jensen lifts his head and gives Danneel a soft look before kissing her. She immediately cradles his face and pushes her tongue between his lips. He thinks she probably enjoys the taste of herself, but he knows better than to ask.

If it were up to Jensen, he never would’ve mentioned his not-so-heterosexual feelings for Misha. He and Danneel have an amazing thing together, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up with a gay freakout.

He almost did anyway.

“You sure talk about Misha a lot. Are you gonna leave me for him?” Danneel had asked, and it had been a joke.

It had been a joke until Jensen’s mouth dropped open and his face drained of color.

“Oh my god,” she had said, but she had a weirdly happy smile on her face.

“It’s not—I don’t—I’m not—" 

Danneel had cut him off with a hug. He distinctly remembers the smell of her hair that day.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, her hand cradling his cheek. “You poor gay baby.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and smacked her hand away while she giggled.

“Babe, if I had thought you were gay I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with you.”

He took a beer out of the fridge and sat at the counter. “But you just said—”

“If I thought you were totally straight, I wouldn’t have gone out with you either.”

“What?”

She sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulder. “You’ve always known that I like girls, too.”

“That’s different. It’s different for girls.”

“You need to stop watching so much TV.”

He glared at her, waiting for her point.

“I’m not asking you to put any labels on it. Just. Tell me how you feel about Misha.”

He took a deep, centering breath. “I like him.”

“Babe.”

“I don’t know! I’m not gay.”

“Do you wanna kiss him? Hold his hand? Cuddle up and—”

He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her in for an open-mouthed kiss.

“OK, OK, I get it, you like girls. Your masculinity is still intact,” Danneel said as she pushed away from him. “Now tell me about your crush on Misha.”

He sighed and dropped his head to her chest. “I wanna kiss him real bad,” he mumbled petulantly to her boobs.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because I love you.”

“Take me out of the equation. If you were single, what would you do?”

“Nothing. I can’t—I tried once, and it didn’t…”

Danneel pushed him up so she could look into his eyes. “Tried what?”

“I’ve told you about Ty.”

“I knew it! You and him—”

“I was in high school, everybody messes around in high school.”

“But it wasn’t just messing around.”

Jensen shook his head. “We tried. We were together all the time anyway, so nobody thought anything of it. But, um. His dad—we were—he caught us one time.” He made a self-deprecating laugh. “In my piece of shit car. He threatened to tell my parents, so Ty and me—we stopped seeing each other. And then like a couple of dumbasses, we moved to L.A. together after high school and didn't tell his dad we were roommates. ”

"Oh no."

"Yeah, uh, his parents made a surprise visit one weekend. I answered the door, and they saw that it was a one-bedroom apartment and put two-and-two together. That was the end of that."

“And you haven’t…?”

“No.” He puffed his chest out. “I haven’t, uh, done anything. Since then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Nobody’s ever told you it’s not wrong. It’s not wrong, Jens.”

“Yeah, then why do I feel like shit?”

She kissed his forehead. “Because you’re an idiot. Misha likes you, too, doesn’t he?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Hm. If only there was a way to find out.”

“I’m not—kissing him.”

“Sure. But let’s just say you change your mind one day.” She kissed him squarely on the mouth. “You’ve got my permission."

If it wasn’t for Danneel, Jensen isn’t sure he’d even be friends with Misha at this point. He probably would’ve just avoided the hell out of him and made everyone on set feel very awkward.

“You know how I came and surprised you a couple weeks ago?” Danneel asks, rolling over in bed so she’s planted on top of Jensen’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“You fell asleep.”

“I did.”

“Misha and I kissed.”

His hand stills in her hair. “You did what?”

“We kissed.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Hey, it’s only fair. I had to gauge my competition.”

Jensen frowns up at her. “He’s not your competition.”

“He’s a good kisser. Little too much tongue, but he makes up for it in—”

“Alright!” He pushes against her shoulders to get her off of him. “I’m going to sleep.” He turns over onto his side, away from her.

She laughs and curls up behind him. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, babe.”

“Who am I even supposed to be jealous of?”

After a beat, she responds uncertainly, “That’s a good question.”

“Hm.”

“You mad at me?”

“Right, like that’d be fair.”

“Hey.” She grabs him by the hip and rolls him over to face her. “I like kissing you the most.”

He rolls his eyes, slots his hand on the side of her neck and pulls her in for a kiss.

Kissing Danneel turns into touching Danneel turns into fucking Danneel, and Misha disappears from Jensen’s mind.

He can’t fucking wait to propose to her.

Chapter Text

Despite the fact that Jensen was the only one talking about proposing to his girlfriend for months in advance, Jared decides to get married first.

Misha decides not to tell either of them that Vicki is pregnant. Too much happening already.

It’s fucking cold and snowy in Idaho, but luckily Gen’s mom talked the couple out of an outdoor ceremony. Jared cries through the entire thing, and it’s so endearing that Misha doesn’t even have it in him to make fun of him for it later.

“Are you crying?” Vicki whispers into his ear.

Misha wipes his nose and doesn’t look over at her. “No.”

She laughs at him. “You didn’t even cry at our wedding.”

“I did, too! It was you who didn't cry!"

A person in front of them turns around and shushes them. Misha and Vicki both look down at their laps and try not to laugh.

When Misha looks back up, he accidentally makes eye contact with Jensen. Jensen looks away quickly as if he was caught staring. How loud were we talking? Misha thinks before realizing that Jensen is at least 30 feet away and couldn’t possibly have heard their conversation.

They make eye contact three more times before the ceremony is over, so Misha decides not to overanalyze it.

“You’re wearing the suit Jensen almost tore off of you that one time, right?” Vicki asks as the wedding party exits.

“Jesus, Vick.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Misha clenches his jaw and tries to escape into the outer aisle.

“He looked at you more than he looked at Danneel. I still don’t get why you haven’t brought both of them home—”

“Vicki.”

"OK, OK. I'm just pissed you've kissed her and I haven't."

"I told you, it wasn't—"

"Didn't mean anything, yeah, whatever." She rubs his back. "You always ask permission beforehand though. Did you just forget this time?"

"I thought we were talking about a threesome. How did I end up in trouble?"

"I'm just saying. We usually tell each other..."

"I didn't know I was gonna meet her!" He clears his throat and lowers his voice. "Now's not really the time to talk about this."

"Oh, OK, so you get to kiss cute—"

As if on cue, Danneel pops up between them and walks with them toward the reception.

“Congratulations, Vicki,” she says casually. “Oh and I guess you, too, Misha.”

Misha and Vicki exchange a confused look, confirming that neither of them actually told her the news.

“Oh, is it a secret?” Danneel whispers conspiratorially. “You’re still pretty early on, right? I won’t tell anybody.”

“How did you—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupts with a wink. “Misha, you better save me a dance.” She eyes Vicki up and down and bites her lower lip. “You, too, babe,” she says more seductively.

When she’s gone, Vicki lets out a stuttered breath. “Can we steal her from Jensen and marry her ourselves?”

Their earlier argument forgotten, Misha wraps his arm around Vicki’s shoulders and laughs. “Maybe she and Jensen will ask us to join them on their wedding night.”

“You think?”

“Um, I was kidding. But the sincerity with which you responded is alarming.”

“Hey, I’m pregnant. I’m allowed to be horny.”

That triggers something in Misha. Right before they get to the reception hall, he takes Vicki by the hand and leads her down a couple of deserted hallways. He eventually finds a small room that's set up like a dressing area. There are some open drink bottles, a few purses, makeup bags strewn around. Misha locks the door behind them and pushes Vicki up against a wall.

“The bridesmaids and groomsmen probably had to wait in here before the ceremony,” Vicki whispers as Misha kisses a line up her neck.

“They probably did a little prayer in here to bless the bride and groom.”

Vicki laughs and wraps her arms around Misha’s back to pull him closer. They kiss for a minute before she says, “This was a very Christian wedding. Do you think they abstained until marriage?”

He hikes her legs up around his waist and buries his face in the open V-neck of her dress. “Unless they were doing yoga in Jared’s trailer all the time, I’m gonna go with no.”

Misha carries his wife over to a chair because they are both way too old to fuck against a wall. She sits up in his lap and fumbles with his belt and zipper as he tries to finger her. She bats his hand away until his cock is free, and then she slides out of his lap and takes him in her mouth.

“That’s not—oh, god—not what I had—in mind—Vick—”

The door handle rattles. Neither of them pay any attention to it.

Someone knocks. Misha groans in frustration as Vicki wipes her mouth and tries to tuck him back in.

“Hey, who’s in there?” an annoyed voice on the other side of the door asks.

“Fuck, that’s Jensen,” Misha whispers. As Vicki chokes back a laugh, Misha shouts, “Just a second, Jackles.”

“Mish? What the hell are you—”

The lock clicks, the door swings open and then slams into the wall. Misha falls out of the chair in an attempt to hide his dick, and Vicki’s laughing so hard there are tears in her eyes.

“Are y’all…?” Jensen asks awkwardly as he stands in the doorway. He looks back into the hallway and shuts the door behind him. “There are better places to do this, you know.”

“Jensen, could you please give us a minute?” Misha asks politely.

Jensen snorts a laugh. “No.”

Misha turns a hard look on him as he finally zips his pants back up. He stands and buckles his belt, straightening himself up to at least feel dignified.

Jensen has a shit-eating grin on his face, and without missing a beat he strides over to Misha and fixes his tie back into place. “Real classy, buddy.”

Vicki finally gets to her feet then and says, “Hey, thanks for helping me up. Not like I’m pregnant or anything.”

“What?” Jensen turns so quickly away from Misha that he flips the end of his tie up into Misha’s face.

“Oh. I guess Danneel didn’t mention it to you in the last five minutes,” Vicki says with a shrug.

Jensen looks back and forth between them several times, his face changing from surprise to confusion to glee. Instead of saying “congratulations,” he gathers Misha in his arms and squeezes him tight.

“Um,” Misha says.

When Jensen pulls away, he pats Misha on the cheek before turning to hug Vicki.

“Are you drunk already, Jay?” Misha asks warily.

“What? No!” His lips quirk into a small smile. “I might be, uh, high.” He clears his throat and puts his hands on his hips. “Anyway. I'll, uh, let y’all get back to—um, whatever you were doing. Congratulations! And all that.”

He trips over his feet on the way out the door.

“I changed my mind,” Vicki says decidedly as she watches the door. “I’d rather marry him.”

Work becomes unbearable once Jared has a ring on his finger.

“I didn't think he could talk about Gen more than he already did, but I was obviously mistaken,” Jensen says in defeat one afternoon after Jared’s been cut for the day.

Misha leans against a fence and pulls out his phone. They won't be needed for a while, so he might as well get comfortable. “Do you think we love our partners enough? Is Jared just better than us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

While he scrolls through Twitter, Misha answers, “You know, do you ever hear Jared talk about Gen and wonder if you, like, love Danneel enough?”

“Um, are you saying you think you don't love Vicki enough?”

“No. God, no. I just can't exactly remember what it's like to be young and in love. For all of it to be so—” he waves his hand wistfully— “new and exciting. I was barely past puberty when I fell in love with Vicki. All I remember is being nervous.”

“Nervous is a big part of it.”

“What? Even as an adult?”

Jensen clears his throat and tugs on his earlobe. “Um, yeah. I used to get nervous around Danneel. Until we, uh, got together. But it’s—you know, it's—when you like somebody you—you, uh…”

“This is riveting, please continue.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and hits Misha so hard in the shoulder that he nearly drops his phone. “I don't know, man. I think I get it. Jared, I mean. I get being so gone on somebody that you can't shut up about them. Getting excited just thinking about them. Wanting to be with them all the time. I get it.” His voice goes so quiet that Misha waits a long time before responding.

“Hmm. I'm glad I don't have to deal with that anymore.”

“What?”

“Vicki and I have been together for so long, I just don't think of her like that anymore. She's my best friend and, I don't know, a part of me? It’d be like waxing poetic about one of my limbs.”

Jensen makes an ugly face and pretends to cry. Misha punches him in the arm as hard as Jensen did to him earlier, and a battle ensues. The crew is doing a changeover only about 10 feet away, but they all ignore the stupid fight. Jensen pushes Misha up against the fence and holds him there while Misha tries to squirm out of his grasp. Eventually Misha gets one of his hands free and strikes the center of Jensen’s chest. Jensen lets out a pained breath and keels over, so Misha wraps his arm around his neck in a chokehold. He gives Jensen a little squeeze, and Jensen’s hands tighten around his forearm.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Misha teases as he squeezes a little harder.

Jensen hums and relaxes his entire body in response.

Yikes. He does like it. That's not something Misha needed to know.

He releases Jensen immediately and steps back, straightening his trench coat in the process. Jensen makes a similar movement, fixing his hair and avoiding eye contact. Misha suddenly feels nervous.

“I think that's the first fight you've ever won. Congratulations,” Jensen says gruffly.

“By the looks of it, it seems like you were the real win—”

“OK, going from the top of act two, scene three!” a P.A. shouts.

Misha sends up a silent prayer of thanks at the interruption. He really didn't want to have to explain the stupid shit that just came out of his mouth.

When they're cut later that evening, Jensen nonchalantly asks Misha if he wants to come over and “chill.” That's code for “smoke” in Jensen’s vocabulary, which Misha doesn't mind. He had to remind Jensen recently that he doesn't actually smoke himself because he panics too easily, but it didn't seem to faze Jensen at all. He still wants to hang out with a very sober Misha when he gets high.

They order Chinese food and park in front of the television without really saying much to each other. Jensen gets giggly when he's stoned, so he puts on some sitcom that Misha would probably know the name of if he ever watched TV.

“How's the baby doing?” Jensen asks after he scarfs down a box full of fried rice.

“Um, you mean the pregnancy? I've had a little morning sickness and I'm starting to show, but other than that I'm—”

“Asshole,” Jensen accuses through a fit of laughter.

“Vicki’s doing well. I'm, uh, getting excited about being a dad. Which is bad. It's still so up in the air at this point.”

“You're gonna be a great dad,” Jensen says absentmindedly. He sets his food on the coffee table and slouches down into the couch. Misha has to scoot over so they aren’t touching each other.

“Please, tell me how great of a dad I’m gonna be. I could use the ego boost.”

Jensen grabs a pillow and curls himself around it like he’s getting ready to fall asleep. Misha has to scoot farther away. “I can see you being tough on your kids. Not taking any shit. Yeah, I’d like to see that.”

"Is this something you actually think or are you playing out some weird fantasy?”

“Mm, I bet you’ll be strict,” Jensen continues as if Misha’s not even there. “But you’ll also be fair, so your kids will respect you.”

“Um, Jensen—”

“I’m gonna come over so much when you have a kid. Fucking love kids.” Jensen trails off into a yawn at the end. He slides down the couch until the pillow he’s holding lands on Misha’s lap.

Misha tries to squirm his way out of it, but then Jensen starts softly snoring.

“Really, Jay?” Misha whispers as he rests his arm on the back of the couch so it’s not trapped by Jensen’s face.

Jensen’s head knocks against Misha’s side, but he doesn’t wake up.

Misha turns his attention back toward the TV.

Several hours later, Misha wakes with a start and has to remind himself where he is. He and Jensen have both shifted in the night, so now he’s lying almost completely flat on his back with half of Jensen’s body draped over his and the other half of it squished against the back of the couch. Jensen’s lying facedown, drooling on Misha’s shirt.

“Jensen,” Misha says, shaking him. “Jensen, wake the fuck up.”

Jensen whines in his sleep and tightens his hold around Misha’s waist. If Jensen wakes up sober and realizes that he spent the night drooling all over Misha, then that’s going to complicate things in a way that Misha’s not willing to live with. Throwing caution to the wind, he extricates himself from Jensen’s hold and hurries toward the door.

“Where goin’?” Jensen mumbles.

Misha decides right then that Jensen probably won’t remember any of this in the morning anyway. He shouldn’t wake up alone on the couch confused and sore. So Misha does what any good friend would do and very carefully hoists Jensen into his arms and carries him to his bed. Jensen hardly stirs at all, even when Misha starts huffing and puffing and trying his damnedest not to drop him. OK, so maybe friends don't do this. Maybe friends should just leave their 6-foot-1 friends on the couch. Maybe Misha doesn't want to consider exactly why that was his solution to the problem. 

As he leaves Jensen’s apartment in the middle of the night, completely out of breath and smelling like weed, he thinks to himself, Never again.

It's not that Misha isn't accustomed to Jared constantly touching his genitals at this point, but some days he's better at dealing with it than others.

Today is an "other."

The three of them have been cooped up in a small medical examiner's room for four hours. Jared found a broom during hour two and hasn't stopped sticking the handle of it between Misha's legs since. It's not news to anyone that Misha has a really hard time keeping a straight face, but he still feels terrible every time he wastes hours of footage.

Jensen, who's maintained a perfectly cool attitude during all of this, notices Misha's frustration and pulls him to the side between takes.

"Hey, don't worry about him," he placates with a squeeze to Misha's shoulder.

"But I can't focus when he's—"

"Don't worry about him." Jensen points to his eyes. "Look at me, OK? Look at me and you'll be fine."

Misha calms down immediately and gives Jensen a nod in response. Jensen smiles reassuringly before leading Misha back over to their marks. It's ridiculous, really, that Jensen even had to tell him that. Of course he should be looking at Jensen; why would he ever look at Jared during any of his coverage? Why didn't he think of this sooner?

Right before the slate drops, Jensen points to his eyes again as a reminder.

The second Misha opens his mouth to say his lines, Jensen bounces his eyebrows and seductively purses his lips.

"You fucker," Misha accuses as heat rises to his cheeks.

Jensen grins and winks at him.

OK, that's why he didn't think of it sooner. He'd take Jared fondling his genitals over Jensen subtly flirting with him any day.

Jensen redeems himself, though, a few days later when the two of them have to film a scene in the Impala with a bare bones crew. It’s the last scene of the day, so everyone is a little groggy and antsy to go home.

Misha doesn’t really like the episode they’re filming based solely on the fact that Cas has to eat an absurd amount of cheeseburgers in every scene. The props crew was nice enough to ask Misha where he’d like the burgers to be from, but he’s pretty sure at this point they’ve got an intern driving out to the closest fast food place, buying out the store, then nuking the older burgers before handing them to the P.A.

He eats an entire burger in one take of his coverage and already his stomach is betraying him. He covers his mouth and burps and tries to think about his paycheck.

“Are you actually swallowing?” Jensen asks between takes.

“I generally do, yes.”

Jensen doesn’t even acknowledge (or catch) the joke before barreling over him. “Jesus, is this your first day acting?”

Misha doesn’t have a witty response to that and he’s still a little miffed that Jensen didn’t get his swallowing joke, so he shrugs innocently.

Jensen leans out the window of the Impala and calls for props. When he turns back to Misha, he says, “You know how many nasty burgers I’ve had to spit out over the years? I’d be 300 pounds if I actually ate this shit.”

An intern shows up less than 60 seconds later and hands a bucket to Jensen.

“Here. Spit.”

As Misha takes the bucket and fits it snugly between his feet, he says, “This isn’t my favorite kind of foreplay.”

“OK, I get it, you like B.J.s. Har-har.”

“Did you just say ‘har-har’?”

“You’re the one making too-obvious blowie jokes.”

Misha slaps Jensen in the chest. Jensen bats his hand away. As a slap fight breaks out, the camera guy in the backseat clears his throat.

Once Misha starts spitting, he can’t stop. Sometimes he doesn’t even wait until they call cut before he spits, which he knows, logically, means they’ll have to do more takes and that means more disgusting burgers, but he cannot bring himself to ever swallow this garbage again.

“Dude, I didn’t mean spit every two seconds. It can't be that bad,” Jensen says in a tone way too reminiscent of Dean.

“Oh, yeah? Here,” Misha responds casually as he shoves a burger toward the driver’s seat.

The camera guy chokes back a laugh.

In a moment of stubbornness, Jensen actually accepts the burger and takes a big bite out of it. He chews for less than five seconds before leaning over Misha’s lap and spitting down into the bucket.

Misha straightens up in his seat. “You’re even more of a spitter than I am.”

Jensen sits back up, meeting Misha’s eyes as soon as his head isn’t between his legs anymore. “I like my meat a little fresher than that.”

The camera guy shifts uncomfortably.

The weeks leading up to Jensen and Danneel’s wedding are strange. Well, Jensen is strange.

The season is almost over, which means they work nonstop for at least a month. In addition to filming, they have conventions every other weekend. Even so, Jensen asks Misha to hang out almost every day after work. At first Misha thought it was normal, but he changes his mind when they’re released at 4 in the morning and Jensen still says, “Wanna come over?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Misha takes off the trench coat and tie as he heads toward his trailer in an attempt to demonstrate how done he is with today.

Jensen shrugs and helps him out of the coat. “I’m wired, man. Probably won’t sleep until tomorrow night.”

“Why don’t you ask Jared?” A couple of weeks ago, Jensen had been asking both of them to go to the bar with him after work. Misha can’t remember when it changed to just him.

“If you don’t want to hang out, just say no.”

Misha bites his tongue. Jensen is infuriating. “Fine. But we’re going to my place.”

“Deal.”

For some reason Jensen follows Misha into his trailer and stands there nervously cracking his knuckles as Misha changes into street clothes.

“Are you stoned?” Misha asks as they walk together toward the parking lot.

“I wish.”

“You’re not smoking in my house.”

Jensen grumbles in response.

Misha’s so exhausted by the time they get to his house that he tells Jensen, “Make yourself at home,” before heading to the bathroom for a shower. He takes his time, too. He doesn’t really care about being a good host at 4 in the goddamn morning.

When he comes back out, Jensen is standing in the kitchen dipping tortilla chips into hummus.

“Want some?” he asks with his mouth full.

“I’m OK, thanks.” Misha takes a seat on a barstool and runs a hand through his wet hair.

Jensen opens his mouth as if to speak, but then he closes it with a hum. He's been doing that a lot lately. Almost every time they hang out, he acts like he needs to say something but then he changes his mind.

“You nervous about getting married?”

Jensen shakes his head and shoves another chip into his mouth. “Dee is, though. She keeps asking me if I'm sure I'm ready.”

“It sounds like she’s not ready.”

“No, she is. She just, uh, worries about me too much.”

“And why’s that?” Misha leans over the counter and takes a chip on autopilot.

“You, uh, ever get scared about only being with one person the rest of your life?”

“Who said I only had to be with one person for the rest of my life?”

“What?”

Misha huffs a laugh. “Vicki and I had a girlfriend a few years back.”

“What?”

“Um. It's possible to be with more than one person at a time. It started casual, you know, just sex. But after a while, we both realized we were in love with the woman and so we sort of, uh, dated? Like the three of us together.”

Jensen blinks at him.

“It's not that hard to understand, Jay.”

“I'm sorry, what? How have you never told me this before?”

“How many ex-girlfriends have you told me about?”

“That's different! This is—it’s—it just…”

There are so many more things Misha could say, but he chooses not to freak Jensen out more than he already has. Instead, he just looks at Jensen, challenging him.

“So you—you don't cheat on her, do you?"

“No. We don't do anything with other people without each other’s consent.”

Jensen blinks at him some more.

“Jensen, I really am way too tired to explain this to you right now. Maybe do some research and then we can talk? If you really care to delve into my personal life that much.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh. OK.”

On impulse, Misha makes his way over to Jensen and lightly touches his forearm. “Hey.” He waits until Jensen looks at him before continuing. “I'm still me. You don't have to panic every time you learn something new about me.”

Jensen nods. “I know. I know that. Sorry.”

Once again, Jensen opens and closes his mouth like he's going to say something. Misha waits. Jensen looks down at his lips and then back up at his eyes.

“I should go.”

Starting the very next day on set, Jensen is even more off than usual. He hardly speaks to Misha at craft services, and he avoids making eye contact with him through the mirror in the hair and makeup trailer. Misha hopes they can just film separate scenes on different stages so that they don’t have to tiptoe around each other all day, but of course the exact opposite of that is on the call sheet.

Their first scene of the day involves Dean holding tightly onto a hurt Cas. Misha has to keep his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and let him support his weight with one hand around his wrist and the other around his waist. The worst part is that they’re in broad daylight with an audience of young, suspicious fans watching.

“Don’t you get tired of having an audience?” Misha asks as they’re waiting for their cue.

“No? Kinda my job.”

Misha rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. I know you hate this as much as I do.”

“I’m not the one who did research on the show before my first convention.”

“Who told you? It was Jared, wasn’t it? I’m gonna kill him.”

Jensen does one of his fake, smug laughs that Misha always thought was a quirk of Dean’s, but apparently he was wrong.

“How long are they gonna leave us out here?” Misha shifts in Jensen’s arms and accidentally bumps their hips together.

“Long enough to make you squirm apparently,” Jensen says, amused.

“You know at least half those girls are recording.”

“God, I thought I was paranoid. It’s one tiny part of one episode, it’s not a big deal.”

Misha stops himself from arguing. It’s not the episode he’s worried about; it’s the fact that he likes Jensen and Jensen likes him and they have their arms wrapped around each other and it makes Misha feel warm and safe even if it is just for the scene.

“Quit being such a girl, dude,” Jensen would say. Well, if Misha was man enough to actually bring it up.

When Misha comes back online, he realizes that Jensen is bouncing from foot to foot and squeezing his hip in a similar rhythm.

“What are you doing?” Misha asks, and he laughs in spite of himself.

“They really are taking a long time, aren’t they?”

Misha adjusts his arm more firmly around Jensen’s shoulder. “As soon as we break apart, that’ll be when they call us in.”

Jensen turns his head and smiles. His eyes flicker briefly down to Misha’s lips, he opens his mouth as if to speak, he closes it. He leans in close to Misha’s ear and whispers, “Don’t act like you don’t like this.”

Misha pulls his head away from him defensively. “What’s gotten into you lately?”

They’re called in before Jensen can answer.

It goes on in the same manner, Misha getting progressively more confused by Jensen’s behavior and Jensen's behavior getting progressively more confusing. One day he starts miming blowjobs and pointing between himself and Misha and winking at the camera, and Misha is sure one of those is going to end up on the gag reel so he laughs along and ignores the heat rising to his neck at the thought of Jensen actually wanting him to get down on his knees and take him—

Quit being such a girl, dude.

Two days before they fly out to Rome for a convention, Misha tries to get some privacy to pack up all his stuff before the season’s end. He’s in his trailer for all of four minutes before there’s a knock on his door.

“What do you want, Jackles?” Misha calls through the door.

Jensen rattles the handle. “Let me in, dude.”

With an annoyed huff, Misha goes over to the door and unlocks it. When Jensen comes in, he gives Misha a calculating look.

"You know we got renewed for a sixth season, right? Where’s the fire?”

“Just trying to get my shit together before we go to Rome.”

“We still have two episodes left to film.”

Misha doesn’t answer. Jensen takes a seat on the couch and spreads out, making himself at home.

“Oh my god, dude, what the hell?”

Misha looks up from his suitcase in search of an explanation.

Jensen points down at Misha’s hand.

“Oh, right,” he says, balling up the orange polka-dotted underwear and shoving them in his bag. “People keep sending me orange underwear. I can only imagine why.”

“So, naturally, you only wear orange underwear now.”

“I detect a note of judgment in your tone, so I’m electing to abstain from answering your question.”

Jensen silently watches Misha grab one pair of orange underwear after another.

“OK, fine, I only wear orange underwear. It seems unlucky not to.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Misha flings a pair of orange-and-red-striped briefs at Jensen’s face. He catches them and tosses them back.

“You should tell Rich to tell the fans that you wear long boxer briefs. I’d hate for your poor, huge legs to suffer in the wrong underwear.”

“Please stop talking.”

Amazingly, Jensen obeys.

Feeling too brave for his own good, Misha blurts out, “You need to stop miming blowjobs with cameras rolling.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“At least be accurate,” he mutters. “If anybody’s going to be giving a B.J. it’s gonna be you.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, Collins. Make me beg for it.”

Misha stares at him for a solid 15 seconds. “Seriously, what the hell has gotten into you?”

Jensen bounces his eyebrows, shifts in his seat and changes the subject.

There’s very little fanfare when they get to Rome that weekend. Misha, shockingly, has never been to Rome, so he spends his first hour exploring the city and trying his damnedest to be late to whatever autograph session or panel or whatever the fuck he’s supposed to be at later that evening. He’s not bombarded by fans or screamed at in the hotel lobby, and his handler is a lot more relaxed than he remembers at any other convention. It’s nice not to feel so exposed.

Maybe that’s what makes him show up at Jared and Jensen’s panel and grab a microphone from one of the volunteers. There’s a pause after a girl asks what they do and don’t like about their characters, so Misha jumps at the opportunity.

“Like, does it bother you that they’re so weak,” he says.

“God?” Jared asks, looking up at the ceiling.

“Sh, I think it’s an angel.”

Misha ignores the way his chest tightens at the word “angel.” It’s not like Jensen doesn’t call him that every goddamn day at work.

“How did he get a microphone?” Jared continues. “How did the weird one get a microphone?”

Misha stays quiet.

Jensen opens his mouth and moves his mic to say something, but Jared bowls over him, “What I like about my character is that it’s not Castiel. He looks different, and...Where’s the other voice coming from?”

“Again, personal space,” Jensen jokes.

That scene was months ago. Misha is pleasantly surprised that Jensen even remembered it. Of course, they had filmed it a ridiculous amount of times on account of Jensen being flustered and laughing every time Misha got too close. Misha tries not to look at it through a microscope.

By the time he’s paying attention again, Jensen and Jared are making jokes about how tall Jared is.

Before the moment can pass, Misha says, “No, seriously, Jared—working with you is pretty frustrating because, like, I feel like I’m a normal, proportioned human being.”

“You’re not.”

“I am!” The crowd is laughing now, so Misha raises his voice. “I’m a normal person, but standing next to you—”

“Smaller in some areas,” Jensen interrupts, his eyes on the floor.

“—I feel like a midget. Seriously, I’ve never felt so small in my life.”

What Jensen said finally hits him, but it’s too late for a comeback. Also, he doesn’t have one.

A person in the crowd yells something, but Misha doesn’t quite catch it. Jared does, though.

“Tell us about your underwear, Misha.”

Jensen immediately makes a disgusted face, waves his hand and scratches a spot above his ear.

Misha wants to say, “You didn’t mind talking about my underwear in the privacy of my trailer,” but lucky for him, Jensen says something even stupider first.

“Talk about a spoiler alert. Woo.” He rubs his hand slowly down his face. Misha can see the realization of what he just said hit him. “Um.”

“I like watching you—you look nervous now.”

“Did we answer your question?” Jensen asks the girl, and honestly Misha is glad he’s electing to ignore him.

Before he can say something incriminating, Misha hands the mic back to the volunteer and follows his handler out of the room. He doesn’t know what game he and Jensen are playing, but he’s pretty sure he just scored a few points.

“Why’d he comb his hair over like that?”

“What, you think it looks bad?”

“Yes. You don’t?”

“I don’t really—”

The bridal chorus cuts Misha off. He and Vicki and everyone else rise to their feet and turn to watch Danneel go down the aisle.

“Veil over the face, that’s rare,” Vicki whispers. “I didn’t take her for being so traditional.”

“She’s not.”

Clif shushes them. Misha flips him the bird. If he has to go to one more wedding this year, he’s going to kill someone. He pulls at the collar of his shirt and puts his arm around the back of his wife’s chair.

“She's so pretty,” Vicki whispers once Danneel’s veil comes up.

“I know. You keep saying that.”

Jensen and Danneel share a kiss, and something dark pools low in Misha’s stomach.

As the wedding procession files out, Jensen meets Misha’s eyes and flashes him a smile. Misha smiles back, a little halfheartedly, and Jensen winks at him.

“That was weird,” Vicki says.

“What?”

Vicki sighs and takes Misha’s hand. “Hopeless,” she mutters.

The reception is packed. Within five minutes Misha has met half of Danneel’s extended family and has explained who he is in relation to the bride and groom a dozen times. Nobody seems very interested in Supernatural, and one cousin even says, “Oh right, I always forget Jay’s on that dumb ghost show” before walking away.

So Misha gets drunk. There's an open bar, and he promised Vicki he’d drink enough for her, too. Of course, the liquor just makes him sleepy so he hardly moves from his table after dinner.

Just as Misha is finishing a White Russian, hands land on his shoulders and push him forward. He chokes on his drink and reaches for a napkin as Jared laughs from behind him.

“Come out and dance, dude,” Jared demands.

“I really don't—”

Jared yanks him up by the shoulders and pushes him toward the dance floor. Misha looks back to see if Vicki followed, but she's sitting at the table laughing at him.

Misha has no fucking clue how to dance, but he's just buzzed enough not to care. He stays close to Jared and hopes everybody around them notices that Jared is significantly drunker than he is.

After a couple of songs, Misha is sweaty and a lot more energized than he felt before. He's so busy acting like an idiot that it takes him a second to realize that Jensen’s next to him trying to get his attention.

“Jackles! Congratulations,” Misha says with a pat to Jensen’s shoulder. “How's married life treating you?”

Jensen huffs a laugh and looks Misha up and down like he's trying to figure out how drunk he is. “It's exhausting. Are you OK, man?”

“I'm so good.” Misha grabs Jensen’s forearms and pulls him forward. “You should dance with us.”

With another laugh, Jensen complies.

“You can’t dance for shit, Mish,” Jensen says at one point.

“Oh yeah? But I can do this.” He leans back as far as his body will allow. When he comes back up, Jensen is looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“OK,” Jensen says.

“Hey, at least I didn’t take dance lessons before my wedding,” Misha teases.

Jensen shakes his head and smiles. “Anything for my girl.”

“That was—surprisingly tender.”

“Marriage’ll make you soft, dude,” Jared cuts in.

Misha nods in agreement.

The three of them make fools of themselves for a few more minutes, but then Danneel and Gen show up together and Jared and Jensen leave Misha by himself. As he walks back toward his table, Vicki meets him halfway and drags him back out to the dance floor.

“You were getting a little handsy with your boy,” Vicki teases as she wraps her arms around Misha’s neck and sways with the music.

“No I wasn't.”

“Oh then he was getting handsy with you.”

“No he wasn't.”

There's a long pause as Vicki scrutinizes him. “I can't tell if you genuinely thought you weren't touching each other or if that was a normal amount of touching for you two so you didn't think it was weird.”

Another pause passes before Misha asks, “What?”

“He kept grabbing your shoulders from behind and you kept touching his arms and—I don't know. You were really close to each other. You really didn't…?”

Misha frowns and shrugs. He doesn't think any of that sounded weird.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom,” Misha says suddenly. He kisses her cheek to reassure her, and then he slips out of the reception hall as fast as possible.

There's nobody in the bathroom, so Misha takes his time freshening up. Well, trying to sober up is more accurate. His hair is a wreck, so he messes with it until it looks like a deliberate wreck. Just as he's re-tying his tie, the door opens.

“Hey, Mish,” Jensen greets casually as he takes a piss at the urinal.

“Um, hi.”

Jensen clears his throat and doesn't say anything else. Misha forgets how to tie a tie and struggles with it in front of the mirror.

“Need some help?” Jensen asks as he washes his hands.

“No, I don't think I'm that drunk.” He curses as he fucks it up a third time.

Jensen laughs softly and turns toward Misha. “C’mere,” he says as he reaches for the tie. Misha gives up and allows Jensen to take over.

After a second of awkward silence, Misha says, “This is becoming an embarrassing habit between us.”

Jensen pokes his lip out and shrugs. “I like doing it.” He fixes the tie into place and pats Misha’s chest.

“Thank you.” He starts walking toward the door. “Um, I'm just going to—”

“We should talk about what happened.”

Misha stops and turns back toward Jensen. “What?”

Jensen looks down at the sink, flattens his hair. “You know.”

Misha stares at him blankly.

Jensen sighs and adjusts his stance, planting his hands on his hips. “C’mon, man. I'm—I'm married now. We gotta—we need to—I can't just…”

“Jensen, I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you sure you're—”

“The kiss! Goddamn it, Mish. We have to talk about our kiss.”

Chapter Text

May 2009

“Rob is cute. Don’t you think Rob is cute?”

“Uh, Misha, you might just wanna relax. You’re pretty smashed.” Jensen slides halfway into the middle seat so he can roll Misha’s window down for him. Maybe some air will help the guy sober up.

Misha grabs Jensen’s arm and presses the back of his hand against his face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Um. Dude, what are you doing?”

“Are you straight, Jensen?”

Jensen snatches his hand away and doesn’t look at Misha. He’s not exactly sober himself, so if he looks at Misha for too long he’ll get dizzy.

“Jensen?”

“Hmm?”

“Did I offend you?”

“What? No.”

“No, I didn’t offend you or no, you’re not straight?”

Jensen looks down at his hands and swallows a lump in his throat. “I, uh, just got in this car to make sure you get home safe.” He looks up and makes eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror. The driver quickly looks back toward the road.

“Jensen.”

He turns and finds Misha smiling stupidly at him.

Before Jensen can even ask, “What?” Misha’s hand is on the side of his face and his mouth is so close that Jensen can feel his breath.

Misha looks down at his lips and then back up into his eyes before gently leaning in and kissing him. Initially Jensen pulls away, but then something in his brain shifts and he finds himself searching for Misha’s lips.

The second time it’s Misha who pulls away. He looks confused for a second, but then his face relaxes into a smile and he leans back in. Jensen moans into the kiss, which spurs Misha on. He shoves him into the corner of the backseat and pushes his tongue between his lips. They both have liquor on their breath, but it doesn’t matter. It makes Jensen feel like a fucking teenager again.

Misha’s a good kisser, if a little sloppy. He messes with Jensen’s hair and bites his earlobes and crawls into his lap to deepen the kiss. The driver clears his throat a couple of times, but Jensen couldn’t care less. He digs his fingers into Misha’s hips and seals his mouth to the bolt of his stubbled jaw.

When they finally break apart, they knock their foreheads together and breathe each other in for a second. Once composed, Misha slides out of Jensen’s lap and hardly looks at him as the car comes to a stop.

“I’ll see you later, Jensen,” is all Misha says as he gets out of the car and stumbles up to his apartment.

Present

One of the sinks in the bathroom has a leaky faucet. The rhythmic dripping becomes deafening after about 10 seconds of silence. Misha’s knuckles have gone white where they’re gripping the porcelain.

"Jensen. What the hell is going on, what do you mean 'kiss'?"

"You serious? You don't remember." Heat rises to Jensen's cheeks. All this time he thought Misha was avoiding the conversation when in reality he doesn't fucking remember it.

"If you would just tell me what it is you're—"

"It was at the season four wrap party. You were really hammered, and you know, we..." he finishes his sentence by clearing his throat.

"We...?"

"Well, uh, I got in the car with you. And then, uh, you kissed me and I—"

"I kissed you?" Misha blurts out as if just now realizing what's going on.

Jensen fights back a smile. "You were hitting on Robbie and, uh, dragging him into the car with you—"

"Oh, god."

"And I—well, Robbie gave me a pleading look. So I stepped in and got in the car with you instead. And then, you know, you just sort of..."

"I have no memory of any of that."

"Yeah, I figured," Jensen says sarcastically.

"You're shitting me, right? This is a joke." He actually sounds mad.

"Mish, why the hell would I joke about this. At my wedding."

Misha closes his eyes and bends over so far that his head almost hits the sink. When he stands back up, he tilts his face toward the ceiling and groans. "So, um, so, what happened? I—I kissed you, and then...?"

Jensen clears his throat again. "Well, uh, you kissed me. And I..."

Very quietly, Misha asks, "Did you kiss me back, Jay?"

"I did."

"You did?"

"I did."

Misha's eyes go wide. "You did." He rubs the back of his neck. "So I didn't—I didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did I?"

“What? No!" He steps forward instinctively, grabs Misha's arms and rubs them soothingly. "Jesus, Mish, you didn’t assault me. C’mon, it’s alright.”

They look at each other for a second.

Misha's eyes flicker down to Jensen's lips before he snaps out of it and steps away from his hold so he can latch back onto the sink. “So. What now?”

“Well. Um. The kiss didn’t mean anything, right? You don’t even remember it, so I don’t—”

“No, yeah, you’re right. Of course. It was obviously just a, um, a momentary lapse in judgment.” He turns away from the sink again and raises and drops his arms as a sign of nonchalance. “We can move past it. You just got married. Of course it didn’t mean anything.”

Jensen takes a step toward him. “Dee knows. She’s not mad.”

“I—” He cuts himself off and furrows his brow. “That’s, um, good. That’s good.” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his head.

Jensen takes another step forward. “Do you regret it?”

Misha’s head snaps up. They’re only a few inches apart. His eyes drift down to Jensen’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “I regret being too drunk to remember it.”

“You drunk now?”

His eyes fall to Jensen’s mouth again, but this time they don’t travel back up. “Not anymore I’m not.”

They move at the same time. Their hands get tangled on their way to each other’s faces, but it doesn’t matter. Their lips crash together as Misha walks Jensen back toward one of the stalls. It’s a cramped space once the door shuts behind them, but that just gives Jensen an excuse to press his body as close to Misha’s as possible. After Jensen bites his bottom lip, Misha growls and bites his neck. His fingers dig into the small of Jensen’s back, and Jensen helplessly tilts his head up to give Misha better access to his neck. 

“You were a good kisser blackout drunk,” Jensen says between stilted breaths. “You’re—spec—tacular—sober.”

Misha smiles against his neck before pulling away and sealing their lips together once again. They move slower this time, gentler, like they have all the time in the world.

Just as Jensen feels something in Misha’s pants against his thigh, the bathroom door swings open and they break apart.

The person who enters is whistling. Jensen and Misha look at each other with wide eyes.

“Whoa, what the fuck?”

Jensen closes his eyes in defeat. Fucking Jared. 

“Somebody’s getting lucky tonight,” Jared continues. It sounds like he’s peeing at a urinal. “It’s OK, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Use protection, alright, fellas?” he asks sarcastically, as if he doesn't actually believe that two dudes in a stall together means they're about to fuck. 

After Jared leaves, Jensen drops his head to Misha’s chest and bites back a laugh.

“Did we just make out in a bathroom stall during your wedding reception?” Misha asks blandly.

Jensen lifts his head and presses a quick kiss to Misha’s lips. “We should probably hit the brakes.”

As Jensen reaches for the door, Misha curls his fingers into his sleeve and holds on tight. Jensen turns back to see what Misha’s hand is doing. He barely gets his head around before Misha grabs his cheek and gives him a mind-blowing kiss.

When Misha pulls away, Jensen’s brain is white noise.

“OK,” Misha says gruffly. “Now we can hit the brakes."

Chapter Text

“So let me get this straight.” Vicki toes her shoes off and tucks her feet under her butt. She places a hand on her belly before continuing. “You made out with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life. And you don’t remember it.”

Misha drops his face into his hands, presses his fingers into his eyes and groans loudly.

“I knew you were drunk at that party, but I didn’t realize you were sophomore year drunk.”

“High school or college?”

“College.”

“Fuck.”

Vicki laughs at his expense. “I can’t believe you’ve been freaking out over this for a year, and it turns out you’d already made a move on the guy.”

“You’re not helping.”

She moves across the couch, wraps her arms around his waist and props her chin on his shoulder. With her belly pressed against his side, he can feel the baby kick as if he’s hip to their conversation. “So. Jensen knows you’re not straight.”

“Mm.”

“He’s not straight.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“His wife is chill.”

“Hm.”

“He knows about polyamory.”

“Well…”

She moves her chin off his shoulder. “He thinks you’re cheating on me?”

“No! No. I just haven’t, um, explained everything yet. Not that I even need to. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You made out. In the bathroom. At his wedding.”

Misha shakes his wife off and paces around the coffee table.

“You won't see him for months, hon. Have you even talked to him?”

He makes a face at her. “He’s still on his honeymoon. ‘Hey, Jensen, I know you’re balls deep in your wife at the moment but do you have a sec to talk about our thing on the side?’”

“So you’re telling me that after you nearly fucked in the bathroom at his—”

“We didn’t nearly fuck—”

“—Wedding, then all you said to each other was ‘let’s hit the brakes’? That’s it?”

“He’s not exactly loquacious.”

“Oh my god. You’re so dumb.”

“Hey—”

“So, so dumb. You have to talk about it.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Vicki levels him with a glare. “Do you want to kiss him again?”

“That’s an unfair question, he has very kissable lips.”

She stands and heads for the kitchen. On her way out, she mumbles, “So dumb.”

Misha fights the urge to follow her. He pulls his phone out of his pocket for the hundredth time today, but all he’s shown is the time. Of course Jensen isn’t going to text him on his fucking honeymoon. That would be ridiculous.

As he’s putting his phone back in his pocket, he thinks he feels it vibrate. He almost drops it on the floor in his frenzy to pull it back out. Once again, he’s shown the time. Honeymoon. He is on his honeymoon.

"Babe?" Vicki calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah, coming!" Misha pats his pocket just to make sure his phone hasn't wandered off.

"We need to talk about baby names," Vicki says seriously as she puts dishes away.

"Um, right now? I was about to go to the store to get—"

"It'll take your mind off of things."

He takes a seat at the kitchen counter. "OK. Do we still have that list we made a while ago?"

"That was five years ago, Misha."

"No it wasn't, that's impossible."

"It's totally possible." She puts the last plate away, closes the now empty dishwasher and comes to sit next to Misha. "Remember? You put 'Cedric' on the list because we saw that one Harry Potter movie. That was, like, a long time ago."

"We could afford to see a movie back then?"

"Darius invited us."

"Oh, right. Fuck. You're right. So, new list then." He starts to get up to go find some paper, but Vicki stops him.

"No, don't write it down. I don't want our kid to find that piece of paper one day and decide that he likes 'Jimbob' better than whatever we decide to name him."

"So you want Jimbob on the list? Would that be one word or two? Like, would he still need a middle name or would Bob technically be his middle name?" Misha teases.

"Goddamn it, I didn't even think about middle names. Who even cares about middle names?"

"We could always use your last name."

"Ew, no." Vicki wrinkles her nose and looks up at the ceiling in thought. "What's the most ridiculous name you can think of?"

"Lysander."

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "It was like you were expecting me to ask that."

"It's a character in Midsummer Night's Dream. I saw a school production as a kid and loved the name."

"Please tell me you don't still love it."

He pouts at her.

She sighs.

"You were the one who said middle names don't matter! Lysander sounds good with plenty of names in front of it." Misha can't even get through the sentence without laughing.

Vicki's laughing, too, now. "We might as well make his middle name a word that's not even a name. Chair. Butt."

"Hi, I'm Misha Chair Collins."

"I'm Vicki Lysander Vantoch."

"Oh, that actually sounds good."

"Oh my god, shut up."

"What was the name we came up with a while ago that we both liked? Wesley?"

"No, no, it was West. Remember, 'cause our GPS kept messing up and telling us to go west every five seconds?"

Misha smiles at the memory. "But West Lysander doesn't sound good."

"Oh! There's a Greek philosopher—shit, I can't remember his name. It's similar to Lysander."

Misha pulls out his phone and clicks around for about 10 seconds. "Anaximander?"

"That's it!"

"West Anaximander Collins."

They both start laughing so hard they don't talk for at least 30 seconds. Vicki holds her stomach while Misha wipes tears from his eyes.

"I think we have a winner," Misha eventually says.

He doesn't think about Jensen at all for the rest of the day.

Misha is slated for conventions pretty much every weekend in May and June, but Jared and Jensen don't have to do anything until mid-summer. Without consulting his wife, Misha decides not to contact Jensen unless he contacts him first. It seems like a pretty solid plan until he's in France in front of fans answering questions about whether or not Dean and Cas are ever going to get together.

Well.

He’s sweating his way through a panel with Alona Tal when a question is finally for her instead of him. Well, it’s for her because he finally snapped and asked the audience to ask her a question for once. He just wants to be able to sit and not say anything for a minute so he can zone out and collect his thoughts. However, as the girl at the mic asks her question in French, the word Jensen slips in there, the crowd goes nuts, and Misha comes back online real quick.

“Let me—I’ll translate. What—what is the texture of Jensen’s tongue?”

Before Misha can even regret what he said, the translator says that the question was, “Is Jensen a good kisser?”

God fucking damn it.

“Oh, really?” Misha asks, laughing. He sets his microphone on the table so he doesn’t say anything else moronic.

Very quietly, but still into the microphone, Alona turns toward him and says, “I don’t know, have you kissed him?”

Misha’s heart either lodges in his throat or drops to his stomach, it’s hard to tell which. He can’t even think of a witty comeback so he settles on an awkward laugh and an, “um…” as he looks down at his hands.

Alona makes a joke about Jensen being amazing before giving a real answer about the downfalls of kissing on screen. Misha feels 10 times sweatier than he did two minutes ago, and he’s too damn shaken to stop himself from awkwardly patting his face like some nervous schmuck. Maybe nobody’s picked up on his nervous habits yet. Maybe he can touch his face all he wants and nobody will be sitting there watching him and pondering whether or not he’s kissed Jensen Ackles’ stupid face.

Misha’s brain suddenly takes a vacation to a universe where he’s the one answering this question. A place where the crowd stares at him in shock as he “jokingly” describes the way Jensen’s lips move against his own and how the one time they kissed left him so desperate for more that he’s tempted to interrupt the man’s honeymoon. Would they believe him? Would the crowd think he’s serious if he adopted the right tone?

What if he already gave away too much.

By the time Misha gets a break two hours later, he’s been able to squash down his embarrassment enough to move on with his day without feeling like he wants to curl up and die. He’s dabbing a washcloth to his sweaty face in the green room when a voice he definitely doesn’t want to hear starts talking as the door shuts behind her.

“So what was up with that question about kissing Jensen, huh?”

Cutting right to the chase then. That’s good.

“Um,” Misha responds intelligently. “What do you mean?”

Alona reaches past Misha for a bottle of water before walking all the way across the room to sit on the couch farthest away from him. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to follow, so he grabs his own bottle of water and stands awkwardly by the snack table.

“Of course the one question I get would’ve been better if you had answered it,” she says casually. "Like I said, kissing on screen sucks. Kissing in real life is way better."

Once again, Misha’s heart does some weird dance between his throat and stomach. “You’re implying something that would make a lot of teenage girls very happy.”

“It’s true though, right?”

Misha cocks an eyebrow at her as he slowly walks across the room to join her on the couch. He ends up stopping short and sitting in the armchair across from her, not saying anything.

“C’mon, Misha, I spent enough time on that set to see it.”

“What?” Misha shouts so loud that Alona jumps.

Her smile fades and is replaced by a look of shocked horror. “Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry, I completely misread this entire sit—”

“No. You didn’t.” If you could keep your goddamn mouth shut, she wouldn’t have to know anything, Misha thinks before continuing, “I am more than qualified to answer that question.”

Her mouth drops open. “I knew it,” she whispers.

Misha crosses his legs and sighs. “Please tell me nobody else thinks the same thing.”

“Um…”

“Who?”

“A lot of the technicians. Speight, obviously. Let's see…uh, Jim Beaver I think. Oh and Edlund. Definitely Edlund.”

“So do you all hang out in the green room trying to figure out which one of us tops?”

Her eyes widen. “It's that serious?”

“What?”

“You two…” She makes an obscene gesture that's apparently less embarrassing than just using words.

“Um, no. How do you know that all of these people know?”

“I don't know, there's not much to talk about between takes.”

“You've never even been in an episode with Rich.”

“Do you not believe me? Just ask them. Nobody’s keeping it a secret.”

“What?”

“Nobody's talking about it either! I mean, nobody cares. It's not like there's nasty rumors about you guys or something stupid like that. It's more just like a, ‘hey, you think they like each other?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Me too.’”

“OK, I get it.” He drags his tongue along his bottom teeth. “Does everyone think we're cheating on our wives?”

“Huh. No. I guess it's different? Because you're two guys? Some people might think you're secretly gay. But not cheating.”

He clenches his jaw. “There's nothing going on between us. We kissed one—two times. Twice. That's it. Nothing’s happening.”

Alona doesn't say anything for several seconds. She furrows her brow and tilts her head to the side as she peers at him. “You want something to be happening though.”

Misha doesn't answer.

Nine more days pass before Misha’s text tone finally buzzes with the name Jensen at the top.

Of course, he's out to dinner with a few of his friends and not thinking about Jensen at all so he does a double take when he sees the name on his phone screen. He considers excusing himself to deal with the way his heart is hammering in his chest, but his friends are all engrossed in a story anyway so they don't even notice. He hides the phone in his lap as he reads.

Remember when y’all were trying to get pregnant and Vicki was wearing you out? I feel your pain.

Misha stares at the screen, confused. Why is he talking about having sex with his new wife? Why would that be the first thing he tells Misha after making out with him in the bathroom at his wedding and then not contacting him for two weeks? What the fuck is this bullshit?

Send her my way, I'm sure I could help her out while you take a break.

Jensen texts back so fast that Misha’s thumb is still stuck on the “send” button.

Please. Be my guest.

That's not a healthy way to start a marriage.

Says the guy who apparently has sex with people who aren't his wife.

Who said anything about me having a healthy marriage?

Shut up you and Vicki are perfect

True

A hand rubs Misha’s back. He looks up to find a concerned expression on Vicki’s face.

“He finally text you?” she whispers.

He nods once.

She kisses his temple in reassurance, a small gesture to show that she's proud of him.

So

Misha waits for a second text from Jensen, hoping fruitlessly for a more complete sentence. After a solid minute passes, Misha can't take it anymore.

So?

You miss me? :)

You wish.

Yeah

What are you up to?

Misha types out, I'm at dinner with some friends, but then erases it and says, Nothing, instead.

Jensen doesn't text back fast enough, so Misha says, You?

It takes a couple of minutes for Jensen’s response to come through. It's a picture message.

Jensen is lying flat on his back on a bed, his hair messy, his eyes a little droopy, and a bit more than a 5 o’clock shadow painting his jaw. He's not wearing a shirt, and strands of Danneel’s dark hair are draped over his chest. She must be tucked up under his arm facing away from him, but the picture only captures Jensen’s chest and face.

Take it slow. They're supposed to be taking it slow.

Aim that camera lower and I'll be happier.

It's another five minutes before Jensen responds.

No way, I'm not letting a shitty phone pic be the first time you see it.

Fair

You...do want to see it someday, yeah?

Your pillow talk needs improvement. We’ll work on it.

Looking forward to it

Your flirting, however…

;)

Before Misha can come up with a witty response, Jensen texts him again.

Actually, Danneel is helping me. I’m transcribing everything she says.

This is a weird dynamic we’ve accidentally created, isn’t it?

You don’t see me complaining.

One of his friends directs a question at Misha, so he pockets his phone. It doesn’t ring again for the rest of dinner. He’s a little tipsy by the time he’s climbing into the passenger seat of his car, so he doesn’t give it much thought when he pulls his phone out and texts Jensen again.

Let’s hang out whenever you’re settled into married life. The four of us, since that for some reason hasn’t happened yet.

It’s not until the next morning that Jensen texts Misha back.

I don't know if that's a good idea. You'll steal my wife.

Vicki will steal your wife first.

That would be hot.

Don’t be crude.

...But yeah, you’re right.

They fail at getting together before the next convention. They text each other almost daily, but they both end up being too busy to actually hang out.

Perhaps due to tiredness from flying to Spain with no layovers (or maybe he’s just an idiot), the first thing Misha says to Jensen when he sees him at the convention hotel is, “You grew a beard.”

“Yep,” Jensen responds shyly as he looks down at Misha’s shoes.

“Has it really been that long since you sent me a picture of yourself?”

Jensen squints at him. The tips of his ears are bright red. “Or maybe you just don’t pay attention.”

“Hm. Probably.” He opens his mouth to say, “You look hot,” but he closes it before the sentence comes out. It’s easy to flirt over text, but having the real thing standing in front of him is a different story.

Jensen clears his throat. “Well, uh. Guess we should get to it.”

Misha’s not really sure what Jensen means, but he follows him to the elevator anyway. They’re the only two on it when the doors shut. There’s not even any music in the damn thing, just the ding of each floor as they go up to the fourth. Neither of them speak.

Jensen adjusts his stance, crossing one foot over the other as he leans against the back wall, and his shoulder bumps up against Misha’s. Instinctively, Misha leans into him, but he fights the urge to reach out and touch.

When the doors open, they jump apart.

They don’t even say anything to each other before they’re whisked away to opposite sides of the hotel. The convention hasn’t started yet, but there are already people milling about. Misha’s handler walks fast, so he doesn’t bother trying to respond to any of the things fans shout at him as he passes.

Conventions are old hat by now, so Misha spends most of the weekend thinking about Jensen as he answers questions and gets shuffled from one event to the next. Which, god, that sounds juvenile. He’s not thinking about Jensen like some love drunk teenager, he’s just thinking about him and his beard and how nice it would feel against his fingertips—against the inside of his thighs. Sex—that’s what he’s thinking about.

He’s exhausted by the end of the day, so he doesn’t even bother texting Jensen as he climbs into the back of an SUV to be carted back to his hotel. OK so he thinks about it, but he doesn’t bother doing it.

Just as he’s pulling the covers back to get into bed, there’s a knock on his door. His heart sinks at the familiarity of it.

“Hey,” Jensen says eagerly when Misha opens the door. His eyebrows are raised and he’s got a bright smile on his bearded face. “Tired?”

“What?”

“Did I wake you up?”

“No. Uh, come on in.” As Misha walks back into the room, he glances at the disheveled bed and feels his orange-and-white-checkered boxer briefs move against his bare thighs. He coughs nervously and crosses his arm over his stomach as he takes a tentative seat on the end of the bed.

“Didn’t get to see you much today.” Jensen opts for a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room.

Misha deflates. Or relaxes. He’s not sure which. “Jared not doing anything tonight?”

“Don’t know, didn’t ask him. Came straight here.”

“Really? I always assume you two tell each other everything.”

Jensen raises a quizzical eyebrow at him. “Sometimes I wonder if you still think he and I are dating.”

“You’re not?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Jay-rod.”

“What’d you come here for, then?”

They smile at each other. Jensen eventually breaks, hangs his head, scratches the back of his neck.

“Do you even care about soccer?” Misha asks, pointing at Jensen’s jersey.

“Says the guy in the orange-checkered briefs.”

“Don’t act like this is news to you.” Misha pulls the fabric away from his leg and lets it snap back into place.

Jensen swallows.

“How many more of these do we have to do before we get back to filming?” Misha asks.

“Uh, I think San Diego’s the last one before we go back. That’s usually how it goes. Why? You sick of ‘em?”

“You would be too if you had been in France a couple weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

Misha sighs loudly and crosses his legs, folding his hands over his knees which feels ridiculous without any pants on. “I—it was just a long weekend. You and Jared weren’t there to take any of the attention, so I had to do the majority of the legwork.”

Jensen rubs his fingers together like he’s playing the world’s smallest violin.

What Misha meant to say was that he slipped up and maybe sort of admitted to a room full of people that he had kissed Jensen. But the words just don’t come.

“Do you think you’re famous enough yet to accomplish that world domination you’ve been working on?”

Misha throws a pillow at him. He catches it easily in one hand.  “How I choose to interact with my fans on Twitter is none of your business.”

“Dude, it takes three seconds to google your Twitter and read everything you’ve ever posted.”

“Oh, so you do that often, huh? You go out of your way to read my tweets?”

Jensen throws the pillow back at him. It hits him square in the face. “Sometimes you don’t respond fast enough to my texts. I gotta keep up with you somehow.”

“Right, like I’m the one who’s bad at responding. That’s hilarious.”

“It took you two days to get back to me about fixing my deck!”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ve never built a deck before and had to do some research to help you. Clearly I’m a terrible friend.”

“You’ve never built a deck?”

Misha shrugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you about it?”

“You expect your carpenter friend to know carpenter things. I can’t have you discovering the truth of my incompetence.”

“You built a house by yourself.”

“But never a deck.”

Jensen shakes his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. Uh.” He looks at his watch. “I better get going. Early morning.”

“You just got here.”

“Yeah, just wanted to check in. See how you were doing. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

The soft affection that sneaks into his voice on the last word convinces Misha that it really is alright if he leaves. It’s not like he expected anything to happen.

For good measure, though, he walks Jensen to the door. They stand at the threshold staring at each other for so long that Misha feels like there should be a camera over Jensen’s shoulder filming his coverage.

“Well, uh, see you tomorrow,” Jensen mumbles as he scratches the back of his neck once again.

He looks at Misha from under his lashes, all innocent and unaware of how goddamn attractive he is.

Misha runs his knuckles along his beard and says, “Goodnight,” before quickly shutting the door in his face.

Chapter Text

The problem with hanging out with Jensen and Danneel is that Vicki is extremely pregnant and uses it as an excuse to hit on both of them all night. (Of course, if she wasn't pregnant, she’d get drunk and use that as an excuse to hit on both of them all night. Of course, she'd hit on them even with no excuse, so maybe the point is moot.)

They go to an uppity restaurant halfway between their houses as per Danneel's request. To the surprise of no one, Misha and Jensen both get stuck as the third wheel. They cast awkward glances at each other from across the table as their wives discuss baby stuff and work stuff and girly stuff. OK maybe not “girly stuff,” but more like flirty stuff but because Misha feels left out he's going to call it girly in order to maintain some semblance of his already crumbling masculinity. It's not like he wouldn't mind seeing the two women have a good time together, but he's not some douchebag who thinks girl-on-girl action exists for his sexual benefit and so he prides himself on only being truly interested when he gets to be a part of said action. (These women though. These women are testing his resolve.)

Anyway.

Jensen hasn't said much past, “Hey, Mish. Hey, Vick,” and whenever Misha says anything pretentious (everything that comes out of his mouth) Vicki squeezes his knee under the table, so really it's inevitable that it turns into a ladies’ night out.

Misha, to his credit, only slides his foot up Jensen’s shin one time before he gets the hint and tangles their feet together for a game of footsie. It's the most physical contact they've had since the wedding incident, so Misha doesn't even feel embarrassed when it kind of turns him on.

He does feel embarrassed, however, when Jensen notices and smirks at him.

“You want us to get you two a room?” Danneel asks with a playful smile directed at Misha.

“Us? Really?” Misha points between himself and Jensen. “Have you seen you two tonight?” He points between Danneel and Vicki.

Vicki whips her head around to Misha. “You keep saying you want the baby to get here sooner. Sex with you obviously isn't helping on that front, so maybe I should try—”

“You want the baby here quick, Mish? I didn't know that.”

Jensen smiles all affectionately and it does something to Misha’s insides. He straightens up in his seat and removes his feet from around Jensen’s.

“Sure. I'm ready for him to pack his bags and go to college. I want him out of the house by the end of the week.”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs openly. Danneel balks at him, then squints at Misha. Misha shrugs.

Vicki puts her hand between Misha’s shoulder blades and rubs soothing circles into his skin. It's her way of making sure he's OK with everything that's happening. The way he assures her is by not responding.

“So Vicki, I hear you're a writer,” Danneel says as an easy segue out of Jensen’s inappropriate laughter.

“I dabble, sure,” Vicki responds modestly. “I would do more if this one would let me.” She pats Misha’s shoulder nice and hard.

“Really?” Danneel asks with an edge to her voice. “I can't imagine you ask him for permission to do anything.”

“No, it's not that. He just doesn't like my subject material. Namely: him.”

Jensen releases what can only be described as a giggle.

Misha searches for his legs under the table and accidentally bumps Danneel’s shin instead.

“Wouldn't peg you as shy, Mish.”

“Well, Jay, I don't think you can peg me at all, so—” he finishes his sentence by shrugging.

Danneel snorts into her glass of wine and very nearly chokes. Once she recovers, Misha winks at her. She holds back her laugh and side-eyes Jensen.

Jensen has a confused look on his face. 

“No but really, what kind of topics could possibly make Misha blush?” Danneel asks.

“Ugh, plenty of things,” Vicki laments. “He won't even let me interview him about our sex life.”

“I'm sitting right here, you know.”

“I had to be so careful writing my book, and he wasn't even slightly famous back then. He was a starving artist with no ambition.”

“Still right here.”

“What book?”

Vicki turns to Misha and silently asks if it's OK for her to share. Misha picks up his wine glass.

“It’s a book about threesomes,” Jensen says with no inflection in his voice.

Now Misha’s the one choking on his wine.

“It’s called The Threesome Handbook, if I remember correctly,” Jensen continues.

Vicki raises an impressed eyebrow at him. “You’re not just a pretty face, are you, Jensen?”

“Wait, can we talk about this book? I need to know about this book,” Danneel interrupts, her voice a little louder than it was before.

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” Misha answers through his laughter.

“It’s just a study I did,” Vicki says with a shrug. “I interviewed people who engage in threesomes, gathered the data, put it in story format…”

“And had threesomes yourself, right?” Danneel asks eagerly, her elbows propped up on the table.

“Yes, that too.”

“But you don’t anymore? You just did it for the book?”

For the first time since this conversation started, Jensen makes eye contact with Misha. He holds his gaze for a solid 10 seconds before turning back toward his wife.

“Well, I’ve been busy being pregnant for the past few months. Not much time to seduce anybody into our bedroom.”

“Our?” Danneel’s eyes dart over to Misha. “So you both do it? You do it together? You two and—a third party? Third person?”

Jensen puts his arm around Danneel’s chair and squeezes her shoulder. “Babe, don’t be weird.”

“We’ve had sex with a few people, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vicki responds.

“How do you find these people? I mean, you have to find people who like both men and women, right?”

“The book covers that.” Vicki pauses and winks at Danneel. “And, you know, we have friends. We dated one of our friends for a while, but it didn’t—”

“Sorry, did you say dated?” Jensen interrupts, sounding surprised in a weirdly angry sort of way. "Both of you, with the same person?"

Vicki snaps her fingers and points at him. “That's always the reaction! I talk about that in the book, how people can deal with one night stands, but they freak when you bring up dating a third person.”

“Well. Yeah,” Jensen sputters. “It’s not—you don't—I just—”

“Don't hurt yourself,” Misha deadpans.

“You never got jealous?” Danneel asks seriously.

“No,” Vicki answers truthfully. “We were both in love with her. The experience made us a stronger couple.”

“Of course, breaking up was hard. Going back to two when we had gotten used to three. Took some getting used to.”

“And a lot of sleepless nights comforting each other.”

“Have you ever done anything separately?” Danneel asks, still so eager to get all the answers she wants.

“What do you mean?” Misha asks. He looks at Jensen as he speaks.

“You know, where one of you likes—or even loves—another person, but the other doesn't. How do you deal with that?”

“Well, there's Misha’s best friend Darius,” Vicki says nonchalantly.

Jensen clenches his jaw and straightens up in his seat. Misha avoids his gaze.

“Ooh, who's Darius?” Danneel asks with a bounce of her eyebrows.

“They've been friends since childhood. Misha swears he lost his virginity to me, but we know that's a lie, right, babe?”

Misha glares at his wife.

She keeps right on trucking. “Anyway, they have an on-again, off-again thing. Always have. They can go months without speaking to each other and then pick up right where they left off.”

“And you're OK with that, Vicki? You're not involved in the relationship?”

“I wouldn't exactly call it a relation—”

“I like Darius just fine, but I'll never feel the same way about him as Misha does. And he'll never feel that way about me. And we’re fine like that. You should read my book, Danneel. You could learn a lot.”

Danneel laughs and knocks her shoulder against Jensen's. “I don't know how this one would take it. He gets jealous if I even look at another guy.”

Misha sinks down in his chair.

“If he wasn't so damn conservative, I’d buy the book right now.”

Jensen clears his throat and squirms in his seat.

Danneel and Vicki keep right on talking, weaving from one inappropriate subject to the next without acknowledging the elephant in the room. Whatever the elephant is. Misha isn't sure anymore.

Somehow, Jensen and Misha’s feet get tangled together under the table once again. They don't talk about it.

“Babe, you ready to go?”

Misha pulls himself out of his wine-induced daze and straightens up in his seat. He fumbles for his shoe under the table; at some point he kicked it off in order to run his socked toes up Jensen’s calf. It's not a big deal.

“Mm, yeah,” he replies, turning his attention toward his wife.

Vicki and Danneel both laugh. “Did we bore y’all to sleep?” Danneel asks.

Jensen scrubs his hand down his face as he shakes his head. “No, uh, it was great. This was great. We need to do this more often.”

“I agree,” Misha says a little too eagerly.

“O...K,” Danneel says skeptically as she stands and pushes her chair in after her.

They all follow her lead, but when Jensen and Misha both reach for their respective wives’ hands, they get caught somewhere in the middle and end up with their fingers tangled.

“That's OK, I wanted to hold her hand anyway,” Vicki deadpans as she grabs Danneel’s hand and laces their fingers together.

Jensen and Misha look at each other before quickly pulling their hands apart. They both clear their throats, Jensen gives a tightlipped smile, and then they follow their wives out of the restaurant.

Danneel and Vicki switch from holding hands to interlocking their arms, which is pretty fucking cute.

“Cute? Really?” Jensen asks.

“Did I say that out loud? I meant, uh, sexy.”

Jensen huffs a laugh. “You're an idiot.”

“You're just now realizing this?”

He bumps their shoulders together. “This was nice. I'm glad our wives get along.”

“They are the same brand of strange, so that's lucky.”

“What, and you're not?”

Misha looks at him curiously. “Oh, I am. It's you who's not.”

Jensen frowns and stares at the women in front of them. “Huh.”

When they arrive at their cars, the four of them face each other and wait for someone to speak up.

Eventually, they all just start laughing. They hug and say their goodbyes, promising to hang out again soon. When Jensen pulls Misha in for a hug, he pats him on the back and lets him go too quickly. It's hardly even cordial.

Not that Misha expected anything more. Doesn't mean he's not bitter about it.

As he and Vicki climb into bed that night, Vicki asks, “Were you guys playing footsie all night?”

Misha sighs. “Was it obvious?”

“Kind of. What's going on? Why didn't you invite them over?”

“Why didn't you?”

“Jensen is your business. I'm not stepping on any footsies.”

Misha rolls over, scooting up so his front is pressed to her back. He wraps his arm around her belly and smiles when the baby kicks. “Danneel is a good kisser. You’d like her.”

“Stop trying to make me jealous.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “I wanted you to myself tonight.”

“Oh, really?” She pushes her butt back against his crotch.

It's embarrassing how quickly he gets hard.

“I see Jensen already got this underway for me,” she teases.

He hums in agreement and then pulls at her shoulder to get her to turn over. Once he's on top of her, it's a quick transition from clothed kissing to naked fucking.

It's a pretty good night.

“C’mon, let’s take a pic.”

“Why?”

Darius kicks his bike to a stop and pulls his phone out of his pocket. They’re in the middle of the goddamn road. “I gotta twitter it. Tweet it. Twit it.” He holds the phone out in front of them. “Say cheese.” He snaps it before Misha has time to smile.

“We should probably take that again.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Darius says absentmindedly as he types away on his phone.

“Babe, do not put that on Twitter. That’ll end up all over the internet, and I look terrible.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, babe. Ready? Cheese.”

This time, Misha manages a smile. Darius puts the first one on Twitter anyway.

“How much farther are we going?” Darius asks as they pedal back into action.

“Why, you tired?”

Darius raises a middle finger to Misha without taking his eyes off the road.

“I figured we’d go a couple more miles and then turn around. That would make it a 25-mile trip I think.”

“At what point will we be too old and out of shape for this? I’m looking forward to that day.”

“This was your idea.”

Darius sighs loudly.

After a couple minutes of silence, Misha says, "Wanna race?"

Darius doesn't even say anything before hunching forward and speeding up his pace.

"Son of a bitch," Misha curses as he grips his handlebars tight and tries to catch up. 

The road dips into a hill, but neither of them let up. Misha doesn't really have control over how fast he's going, but he stands up on his pedals and tries to nose ahead anyway. 

And suddenly Darius' front wheel swerves, and his bike careens into the side of Misha's. 

I’m still alive. I’m going to die, but I’m still alive, Misha chants in his head as his body tumbles down the hill for what seems like forever.

Eventually, though, beyond all logic he comes to a stop and stares up at the sky for a moment too scared to move. He doesn’t know if he can and that’s what’s terrifying. His skin feels like it’s on fire, but nothing feels particularly broken. After a quick prayer to the universe, Misha pulls himself up and stands on surprisingly steady legs. His vision is a little blurred and he probably has a concussion, but he still manages to spot Darius’ lifeless body in a ditch nearby.

He’d run if his body would let him, but as it happens he has to walk incredibly slowly over to where his best friend might be dead. He passes by both of their mangled bikes on the way over, but he doesn’t have time to worry about that now.

By some miracle, a car drives up right as Misha reaches Darius. Misha is too focused on his friend to say anything other than, “Call ambulance,” to the driver of the stopped car.

“Misha?” Darius asks through a hugely busted lip. Blood trickles out of his mouth and down his chin.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Misha responds stupidly.

“What are we doing?”

“We crashed.”

“Crashed what?”

“Our bikes, Darius.”

“What? Why were we on bikes? Where are we?”

Misha freezes. “Babe, do you remember anything?”

Darius just looks up at him.

“OK, um, I have to go check to make sure an ambulance is on its way. You just stay here."

When Misha turns back toward the road, he finds the good Samaritan heading toward him at a jog.

“What happened to you guys?” she asks once she reaches them.

“Bike accident,” Misha replies. “I think my friend has amnesia.”

“Oh, god. I called 911. Hopefully they’ll be here soon.”

Misha suddenly feels very dizzy, so he gracelessly takes a seat on the ground. He needs to call Vicki, so he reaches in his pocket and finds several pieces of his phone.

“Do you need to borrow my phone?” the woman asks.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Sirens sound as the phone rings, which makes Misha think a lot more time has passed than it seems.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

Misha snaps back to attention. “Oh, um. Vicki, hey. It’s me.”

“What’s going on? Whose phone is this?”

“Darius and I, uh, got in an accident. I think we’re OK mostly, but the ambulance just got here so if you want to meet us at the hosp—”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?”

“No.”

“OK. I’m leaving now. What the hell happened?”

“We crashed down a hill.”

“Are you hurt? Is Darius OK?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think we’re both concussed. But alive and in one piece, so that’s good.”

The paramedics come over, so Misha hangs up without saying anything else. He’s so out of it that he starts to put the phone in his pocket before the woman takes it from him. He doesn’t check to see if Darius is being put on a stretcher next to him, but he does manage to ask the paramedics to take pictures of him being carted onto the ambulance.

Misha is pretty sure he passes out in the ambulance, because the next thing he remembers is waking up mostly naked in a hospital bed.

“The nurse asked for your autograph,” Vicki says apropos of nothing.

Misha turns his head gingerly and has to squint to see Vicki sitting by his bed flipping through a Sports Illustrated.

“You don’t like sports.”

Vicki tosses the magazine aside. “Nothing else to read. How do you feel?”

“Like I just got in a bike accident. Where are my clothes?”

“You have some pretty serious scrapes, so the less fabric touching your skin—lack of skin—the better.”

Misha looks down at himself, but he’s got bandages over all the spots that burn so he can’t really see how bad the damage is.

“They thought your back was broken, so they did a CT scan. You don’t remember any of that, do you?”

“Was I awake?”

“Kind of. Not really.”

“Where’s Darius?”

“He’s a couple rooms down. He has amnesia.”

Misha huffs a laugh. “If I hadn’t been so out of it, I would’ve fucked with him.”

“You guys could’ve died.”

Misha laughs again. “I could’ve said anything and he would’ve believed me.”

Just then, the doctor comes in with a clipboard in her hands, looking down at it as she speaks.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Collins?”

 "Like I just got in a—”

“He’s fine,” Vicki interrupts.

“My back hurts,” Misha says truthfully.

“Yes, we initially thought it was broken. Are you aware that you have a birth defect?”

Misha balks at her straightforwardness but composes himself enough to shake his head.

“The vertebrae in your spine don’t lock together. I’m assuming you’re very flexible?”

“I pride myself on it,” Misha says flatly.

“Well, you need to be careful. You’re prone to paralysis if you stretch too much.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it?” Vicki asks worriedly.

The doctor shakes her head and looks at her clipboard some more. “Just be more careful. Don’t stretch too much, and maybe don’t get in huge bike accidents.”

The doctor leaves without so much as a wave, and Vicki mumbles that she likes her a lot.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Misha asks, holding his palm out toward Vicki.

“We’ll have to get you a new one when you get out of here,” she replies as she hands hers off.

He goes to her photos and finds the pictures of him in the ambulance. He smiles as he signs into his Twitter.

“One of the paramedics asked me for my phone number and said all you would talk about is making sure there was photographic evidence of the accident. You’re a dumbass.”

“I need to get pictures of Darius, too. He looked like he got hit by a bus.”

Vicki sighs loudly.

After a beat, Misha asks quietly, "He's OK, right?"

"What?"

"Darius. He's gonna be OK?"

Vicki pushes her hair behind her ear. "His recovery is gonna be a lot longer than yours, but yes, I think he'll be OK."

Misha attempts to get out of the hospital bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see him."

"You'll be released tomorrow, we can go see him on our way out."

"I want to see him now."

Vicki presses an insistent hand to Misha's shoulder. "He's in surgery, babe. He'll be in surgery all day."

Misha looks straight ahead and clenches his jaw. 

By the next morning, he's deemed well enough to go home. His scabs stick to his shirt and his muscles are in excruciating pain, but he's ready to go see how Darius is doing. Then he's going to get the fuck out of the hospital.

Darius looks even worse than Misha remembers. His face is so swollen it's hardly recognizable, and his skin is gruesomely discolored. Still, he blinks up at Misha with his one good eye and smiles weakly.

"Hey, babe," Darius says sweetly.

"You remember who I am?" Misha gingerly takes a seat next to the hospital bed.

Darius holds his hand out, so Misha takes it and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

"I'm really fucked up, dude," Darius says seriously.

"Like how fucked up?"

"Uh, won't be able to walk for a little bit. Concussion, hundred stitches, couple broken ribs, butter face. You know, normal stuff. How the hell did you get off so easy?"

Misha smiles sheepishly. "You know me."

"Yeah I do, asshole. Listen, I'm on a shit fuck of drugs right now so I'm gonna need to take a nap here soon."

"A shit fuck, huh?"

"Get out of here, Mish."

"Get better soon, OK, buddy?"

Darius lamely kisses the air, and Misha returns the gesture before leaving.

He's going to be stuck in the hospital for a while, so Misha’s sure to send him a big bouquet of roses and a note that says, “To be fair, the accident was technically your fault.”

Comic-Con is in less than a week, so Misha’s wounds barely have any time at all to heal before he has to put on a brave face in front of hundreds of fans. At least he’s able to get a new phone.

The second it turns on, it buzzes with a hundred texts. Misha opens the ones from Jensen first.

Is CC the next time I’m gonna see you?

I was thinking of getting to San Diego a day early just to hang out.

Mish

You OK?

Dude, you’re freaking me out. It’s been two days.

OK, I’m gonna assume you dropped your phone in the toilet. Text me when you get a new one, please.

Misha laughs affectionately as he types out a response.

Got in a bike accident, broke my phone. I’ll see you in SD.

The response is immediate.

What the fuck are you OK

Banged up a little, but fine. Apparently I was going 55 mph when I crashed. Darius was with me, he has amnesia.

Jensen calls him.

“It’s really not that ser—”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Jensen interrupts, his voice adorably frantic.

“I turned my new phone on literally 10 seconds ago. You were the first person I texted.”

“Were you in the hospital? Why didn’t you call me from Vicki’s phone?”

“I don’t have your number memorized, Jensen.”

A beat passes. “Oh.”

“And yes, I was in the hospital but I’m out now and I’m fine. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Call me next time you nearly get killed, please? Put my number in Vicki’s phone. Make it your emergency contact, I don’t care.”

Misha suppresses a giggle. “You worry about me that much, Jay?”

“Yeah, sue me. You need to be more careful, I don't like thinking about you getting hurt.”

“OK, Dean,” Misha teases. "You know, you could've stalked my Twitter to see what happened."

"Oh so you put it on Twitter but didn't tell me?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, whatever. Get better, OK?"

"Yes, sir."

The next time Misha talks to Jensen, they’re standing at a Comic-Con booth waiting for the autograph line to open. Misha’s busy having a conversation with Ben Edlund when a familiar hand very tenderly taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Jackles,” Misha says as he turns around and looks him up and down.

“How you doing, Mish?” The question’s weighted, but Misha’s not going to take the bait in front of a bunch of people.

“Swell. And you?”

“I’m alright.” He gives him a look like he knows that Misha’s avoiding saying that he’s still in a lot of pain. “Let’s do this.” He heads over to the counter and grabs a sharpie. He hands it over to Misha and then picks up another for himself.

Misha smiles down at the sharpie like some idiot.

When the autograph session is done, Jensen comes up close to Misha’s side as they’re carted off to their next event.

“You doing OK?” he asks quietly.

“I have scabs on top of scabs, but yeah, I’m doing great.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Jensen lightly touches the small of his back before walking away.

Later, while they’re waiting backstage for their panel to start, Misha sits alone in a corner, left ankle resting over right knee, and scrolls through Twitter on his phone. He’s unsurprised when he hears Jensen clear his throat.

“Yes, Jensen,” Misha says without looking up from his phone.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Twitter. What are you doing?”

Jensen pushes air out between his lips. “Uh. Bored. Don’t really feel like talking to a crowd for the next hour.”

“Well then I have some bad news for you, because that’s exactly what we’re about to do.”

Jensen hits Misha’s foot with his hand. “Why you ignoring me?”

He puts his phone down. “Ow."

"Oh, god. Sorry."

"I’m not ignoring you.”

Jensen blinks. “No, I mean, like…”

“Hey, losers, time to go!” Jared calls.

They both jump to their feet in record time. Apparently neither of them really wanted to have whatever conversation they were about to have.

When the panel’s over, Jensen comes up close to Misha and whispers in his ear, “You’re different onstage.”

“What?”

“You act different. More of an asshole. Is it just because you're hurt?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. I mean, no. Not because I'm hurt.”

“But it’s on purpose?”

“Of course it’s on purpose. I don’t need people knowing who I really am.”

Jensen laughs and pushes a door open for them. “You’re paranoid, you know that?”

“I’m practical.”

“Paranoid.”

“What, you don’t have a stage persona?”

“No, I don’t care enough. And I’m not an interesting person, so what the hell do I have to hide?”

They come to the end of the hallway and turn to face each other. Jensen’s eyes scan up and down Misha’s body. He gives an embarrassed smile and scratches the back of his neck.

“Nothing to hide, huh?” Misha asks with a smirk.

“Nope, I’m an open book.”

They look at each other for another minute, long enough for it to get awkward. They go in different directions without saying goodbye to each other.

After an hour or two more of being dragged from one place to the next, Misha sneaks away to get back to his hotel room as early as possible. Vicki’s in town with him and his body feels like it could break at any second, so he’s really not up for all the press he’s supposed to go through before he can leave for the day. He also wants to check in on Darius, make sure he's doing alright now that he's back home. 

Just as he’s about to escape through the back doors of the convention center, Jensen jogs up to him and asks where he’s going.

“Um, back to my hotel. I’m kind of exhausted. And recovering from a traumatizing incident.”

“Oh. Right. Um. I think Jay-rod and I are going out tonight, but if you want me to stay here and…Or, um, you could come out with us if you’re feeling up for it. Knock back some pain meds.”

“My wife is here.”

“She could come, too.”

The hopeful lilt of his voice would break Misha’s heart if he wasn’t so goddamn tired.

“What’s in it for me?” Misha stupidly asks. He punctuates his question by leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms, crossing one foot over the other. He’s pretty sure he tears some skin near his elbows.

Jensen’s eyes wander down to his feet then back up to his face. “Um.” He swallows. “I don’t know?”

“How about, instead of getting high and doing nothing tonight—” He steps forward into Jensen’s personal space, “—you come with me and do a lot tonight?” It’s very obviously an empty promise, but Jensen falls for it all the same.

His eyes dart all around Misha’s face. He licks his lips. “I, uh, I just—I need to—”

“There y’all are!” Jared says loudly as he comes up behind Jensen and throws an arm over his shoulder.

Misha leans back up against the wall again, but this time it’s to get as far away from Jensen as possible.

“I was looking for—did I interrupt something?” Jared looks between the two of them with a painfully serious expression.

“What? No. We’re fine,” Jensen answers at the same time Misha says, “Your timing is perfect, Jared, don’t worry.”

“Is, uh, something wrong? Y’all are acting weird.”

Once again, they answer in unison. It comes out sounding like annoyed nonsense.

“Anyway. You coming, Shackles?”

“Yeah,” Jensen responds while staring at Misha. “I’m coming.”

If Jared notices the way Jensen and Misha stare at each other as he drags Jensen away, he doesn’t comment on it.

Everything is fine, really.

Chapter Text

Everything is not fine.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Danneel asks two days before Jensen flies back to Vancouver to start filming for season six.

“Yeah, like that’s so—ah—easy.”

It should be said that they don’t usually talk about Misha when Danneel’s hand is wrapped around Jensen’s cock. Well, usually it’s not her hand at all. They’re not in eighth grade. But they were feeling lazy and she knew he was stressed out about Misha, and they won’t be able to have sex for a while, but she kind of needs her mouth in order to have this conversation.

“It is though? Why are you making it hard?” She squeezes a little tighter on the word “hard.”

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Misha, my wife is begging me to fuck you, so I guess we gotta do this.’”

She smushes his face with her free hand. “Maybe you don’t have to say anything. Maybe you can just invite him to your trailer and greet him with a kiss.”

“I told you, I’ve tried to kiss him half a do—fuck, god—dozen times, and I just—can’t—Jesus—”

He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her body over so she’s straddling him. She gets the hint and sinks down onto his cock in one fluid motion. He smirks up at her when he feels how wet she is.

“You could’ve told me you were horny, sweetheart,” he says smugly.

“It’s just because we’re—oh—talking about—Misha.”

He digs his fingertips into her hips and growls possessively.

“Oh, you jealous because he’s yours?”

“No, jealous because you’re mine.”

She giggles sweetly. “So anyway, if you don’t kiss him the next time you see him then I won’t kiss you the next time I see you.”

“What kind of wife are you?”

She picks up the pace. “The kind that—really—enjoys—torturing—her—husband.”

He comes first, his whole body tensing up before going completely lax as he spills inside of her. She climbs off quicker than usual, so he pulls himself out of his post-orgasm haze in order to finger her.

“What, no tongue?” she complains.

He kisses her squarely on the mouth. “We’re still talking.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“So really, what do I say to him?”

Danneel closes her eyes, hums, arches off the bed, and runs her fingertips lightly over her breasts.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” she asks.

He sighs and pumps faster and harder until she comes.

“I think I’ll just tell him that I changed my mind and don’t want to take things slow.”

“I don’t know if you’re prepared for whatever that entails,” she responds, her voice a little wispy. "You might freak out."

He’s about to protest, but then he realizes she’s right. What the hell would it entail? He hasn’t even gotten past what it would be like to just kiss Misha again.

“Babe,” she says as she smacks a hand to his cheek. “I’m going to sleep.” She rolls away from him and turns the lamp off.

Again, he opens his mouth to protest and then changes his mind. He turns away from her and punches his pillow to get comfortable. Two more days to figure this shit out.

He doesn’t figure anything out before going back to work. He mostly just has sex with his wife for two days straight and then has to jerk off as soon as he gets to his apartment in Vancouver. She wound him up and let him go, and he’s pretty on edge about it.

Of course Misha isn’t in the first episode, so of course Jensen spends the entire first day on set acting like a jilted teenager.

“Aww, somebody grumpy because his boyfriend’s not here?” Jared asks patronizingly over lunch.

Jensen’s heart sinks. “You’re just pissed it’s not you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you later.” He takes the last bite of his burrito and bunches up the tinfoil.

“Dude! I just got here!”

“I’m sure you’ll survive lunch without me,” Jensen calls over his shoulder with a wave.

The good thing is that Jensen doesn't have to deal with Jared for a while because he spends the majority of the week filming one-on-one scenes with guest stars that probably won’t be on the show very long. He likes working with Cindy Sampson, but he’ll be surprised if Lisa makes it through the season.

They’re filming a scene in bed together when Jensen’s phone buzzes. When they’re done with the first take, he pulls it out of his pocket and ignores the eyeroll from the boom guy.

“I didn’t know I was allowed to keep my phone on me,” Cindy laments.

“You could go get it on our next break.”

How’s the weather up there? The text from Misha says.

She pulls at the waistband of her panties. “I don’t think this costume has pockets.”

Jensen glances over at Cindy and laughs. “My wife wears baggy sweatpants to bed most of the time. Definitely has pockets.”

Don’t know, been inside all day. Some of us have jobs.

“Imagine pitching that to wardrobe. Lisa in sweatpants, very sexy.”

Wow, you have to tell me what that’s like.

When are you getting here?

“Is that your wife?” Cindy asks.

“Hmm?”

Saturday

“Oh, yeah, no,” Jensen says stupidly. “Just, uh, Misha.”

“Misha? He’s the guy who plays Cas, right?”

“Yeah, that guy.” Jensen clears his throat and puts his phone away.

“Jackles has a big crush on him,” the boom guy says as he puts the boom back in place.

“Yeah, they spend more time flirting than actually doing their scenes together,” the cameraman elaborates.

Jensen’s face heats up. He resists the sudden urge to pull the covers up over his head. The worst part about filming intimate scenes is the amount of sweaty, nosy crewmembers hovering over the bed at all times.

Cindy doesn’t say anything else. She sighs and gives the crew a somewhat scathing look. Jensen wants to know what the hell that’s about, so he files it away to ask her later.

That’s too far away , Jensen texts back without thinking.

They get back to filming the scene, so he shoves his phone under the pillow. He can feel it buzzing while Cindy’s lips are on his, and for some reason it’s weird. It’s weird to be kissing someone so methodically, so clinically, with Misha’s insistent texts buzzing right underneath Jensen’s head.

They film the scene from several different angles, so Jensen is intimately familiar with Cindy’s lips by the time their next 10 is called. She tells him he tastes like Jolly Ranchers. He blushes. 

You’re so needy whenever I’m not around.

How come you’re not like this in person?

Never mind, don’t answer that. Makes me sound like I’M the needy one.

As he’s walking to craft services (still wearing Dean’s pajamas), he responds, A ghostwriter handles all of my texts.

He figures it’s a joke Misha himself would make and will therefore find funny.

He grabs a bottled water and an apple and then jogs to catch back up with Cindy.

“Hey, earlier when the crew was, uh, making fun of me, why’d you seem annoyed?” he asks without preamble.

It takes a moment for her to answer. “Oh, right. When they said—they were making gay jokes. It’s 2010, gay jokes aren’t funny anymore.”

“Oh. Oh. Gotcha. OK.” He laughs nervously and looks at the path ahead of them. Stage five is still quite a ways off.

“Unless—you actually are gay and have a crush on Misha?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m married.” That doesn’t make you straight. “Misha and I just—we’re friends. That’s—yeah.”

She looks at him with an all-too-amused expression. “Right,” she says, unconvinced.

Jensen pulls out his phone to end the conversation.

Hilarious, is Misha’s reply. 

Like most weekends, Jensen has to work until 4 a.m. on Saturday. Despite his exhaustion, he remembers to text Misha right before he goes to bed.

Sleeping late tomorrow. Let me know if you want to come over.

Of course, because of his exhaustion, he doesn’t realize how suggestive the text sounds. It’s just that he never leaves his house on Sundays. None of them do. Sunday is laundry day.

Misha hasn’t responded by the time Jensen wakes up at noon, so he compulsively sends him another text.

I just meant you can come over to hang out. I’m doing laundry.

Jensen doesn’t expect a text back, which is why he’s surprised when it buzzes before he even sets it back down.

Oh boy, I’d love to do laundry with you. Sounds like a blast.

Shut up.

Make me.

As Jensen types up an answer, his doorbell rings. He types as he walks, and he hits send as he opens the door to reveal—

“Misha. What.”

Misha’s phone pings. He reads Jensen’s text right there on the threshold.

“Hm,” Misha says with a mischievous smile. He raises an eyebrow at Jensen, pockets his phone and slips past him into the apartment.

Jensen blushes and reads back over what he sent.

I’d like that.

When he gets to the living room, Misha already has his feet up on the coffee table and the remote in his hand.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Jensen deadpans.

“I will, thanks. You got anything to eat?”

Jensen rolls his eyes but goes to the kitchen anyway. He doesn’t bother asking Misha what he wants as he grabs a bag of almonds and a sleeve of Oreos. He knows Misha well enough to know that he’ll want the Oreos more, but he’ll eat the almonds first just to make himself feel better about eating the Oreos.

“Mm, I love almonds,” Misha says as he breaks into the bag.

Jensen tosses the Oreos onto the couch, and Misha looks at them with an unreadable expression.

“I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Oh. Well I don’t need the Oreos.”

Jensen shrugs. “That’s fine.” He plops down on the opposite end of the couch. “What are we watching?”

Misha tosses the remote over. “I don’t know. I hate TV. Don’t you have laundry to do?”

“I’m doing it,” Jensen answers as he flips through channels. “How’s your wife?”

“Bored. She was great at being pregnant right up until she had to slow down because of it.”

“Bedrest?”

“No, just staying out of the heat and trying not to do too much. I hated leaving her.” He rolls up the bag of almonds and places them on the coffee table. Without even a moment’s hesitation, he picks up the Oreos and rips into them.

“What if you’re not there when she goes into labor? What are you gonna do?”

“Induced labor. September 23. They might jerk me around here, but they’re nice enough to give me paternal leave.”

“Jerk you around? What do you mean?”

Misha rolls his entire head over to give Jensen a skeptical glare. “Really?” He shoves an Oreo in his mouth. “I lived in a hotel for a year because I never knew if I was getting another episode or not.”

Jensen looks back toward the TV. The silence sits between them for a while.

“Shouldn’t there be a football game on? Isn’t that what you do on Sundays?” Misha asks as Jensen continues shuffling through channels.

“Dude, we’ve been over this a million times. Football season is—”

“Irrelevant to me. Please don’t explain it again.”

Somehow they end up heckling at the TV during some bachelor-esque type reality show. A marathon is on, so they barely move for the rest of the day. Except to get closer to each other. By the third episode, Misha has scooted his way across the couch and onto Jensen’s cushion. By the fifth episode, Jensen’s arm has found its way to the back of the couch so that he can pretend like Misha is tucked up against his side.

By the time the marathon ends, Misha is asleep with his head pillowed on Jensen’s chest and his body curled up like a child. The dryer beeped hours ago, but Jensen has yet to get his clothes. His stomach rumbles with hunger, but he ignores it and slips his arm around Misha’s shoulders.

Misha moans in his sleep and adjusts himself closer to Jensen’s side. Jensen’s hand slides down his back and rests near his hip. His heart is steady in his chest.

Jensen must fall asleep, too, because the next time he opens his eyes it’s dark in his apartment and Misha is drooling all over his shirt. He takes in a deep breath and rubs his hand against Misha’s hip, which makes Misha scoot closer to him and wrap an arm around his midsection.

After a minute or two more of shifting and making little sleep noises, Misha lifts his head just enough to lightly kiss Jensen’s neck.

Jensen wants to ask how long he’s been awake, but the question never comes out. Instead, his eyes slip shut as Misha slowly pulls the collar of his shirt down and peppers his shoulders and neck in kisses.

When Misha pulls back, Jensen cracks one eye open and finds him staring at him. They smile softly at each other. Jensen leans forward to try to capture his lips and—

“I should go,” Misha says definitively.

He extricates himself from Jensen’s hold and quickly heads for the door.

Jensen stumbles his way off the couch to follow him. He stubs his toe on nothing and fumbles to find a light switch. When the light comes on, he finds Misha fruitlessly smoothing his hair down as he waits by the door.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess,” Jensen says. He lifts his arms and then drops them.

With a forced smile and a wink, Misha says, “Bye, Jensen,” and heads out the door.

Jensen folds his laundry.

The next day, Jensen skips craft services and heads straight for hair and makeup. He walks fast and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone he passes. When Jared catches up with him and asks what crawled up his ass, he’s tempted to reply, “Nothing, and that’s the problem.”

As he’s leaving the hair and makeup trailer, Misha’s coming in. Jensen tries to scoot past him in the doorway, but Misha stops him with a hand to his chest.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t here yet,” he says with an easy smile.

“Nah, just, uh, not hungry this morning. I’ll see you later, Mish.”

He doesn’t wait for Misha’s response.

As he heads for wardrobe, Jensen stares at the call sheet willing the words on the page to say something other than the first scene of the day including him, Jared and Misha. It’s going to be a painfully awkward day.

During the first two takes, Jensen barely looks up from the floor. The first A.D. keeps asking if he’s OK, which brings a deeper blush to his cheeks each time. Jared and Misha are on the other side of the small room, giggling about something. Jared has some sort of makeshift stick that he’s poking Misha with, and Misha keeps batting it away. It looks like it’s made out of plastic straws.

They work for less than half an hour before break is called.

Jensen stays on the bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through nothing. He doesn’t even have any texts, not even from Danneel.

When they come back from their 10, Misha’s nowhere to be found. Jensen worries for half a second before remembering that Cas doesn’t come into the scene until Dean calls him. It goes smoothly for three straight takes. A P.A. somewhere off set calls Misha in, and he shouts back a frantic, “Coming! Sorry!”

Jensen smiles down at his hands.

Misha looks a little disheveled when he comes in, and there’s something unidentifiable in his hand. Once the slate drops, he brings a cigarette up to his lips, takes a drag and says to Jared, “Hey, brah.”

Jensen chokes back a laugh and averts his gaze when Misha winks at him.

“You smoke?” Jared asks skeptically.

Misha takes another long drag, closing his eyes and exhaling the smoke up toward the ceiling. “No,” he answers.

“You’re holding that like a blunt,” Jensen says.

“That’s not going to get me to smoke with you, Jensen.”

“Boys, can we not talk about drugs while on the clock?” the first A.D. asks.

Misha smokes the rest of his cigarette and hands the butt off to a P.A.

Jensen is easily able to look Misha in the eye for the rest of the day.  

While he’s changing clothes in his trailer that night, there’s a singsong knock on the door. Without really thinking about it, he opens the door with one hand while the other holds his pants up at the fly.

“Well, that’s a little presumptuous of you,” Misha greets after giving Jensen a onceover. He steps inside without being invited.

“Changing.”

“Sure.”

“Uh. What’s up?”

Misha falls onto the couch, crosses one leg over the other and folds his hands over his knee. “Jared says you don’t hang out with him as much as you used to.”

“What? As if he’s not spending every waking moment with Gen. I can’t even remember the last time he—wait, did he send you here to talk to me about this?”

Misha smirks. “No. He was just complaining to me today. Figured you’d like to know. You know you two are attached at the hip, right?”

“What? No, we’re not. Shut up.”

Misha’s eyes widen before he blinks several times in quick succession.

“OK, maybe,” Jensen admits. He takes a seat in the armchair and gives Misha a hard look. “He’s my best friend. Sue me.”

“Has he noticed...Never mind.”

“Mish, c’mon. I’m tired.”

He uncrosses his legs and sighs. “How much time you and I have spent together lately? It must be taking away from his time with you.”

“We don’t hang out that much.”

“Who?”

“You and me, dumbass.”

“Don’t we?”

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he mumbles petulantly.

Misha squints at him.

“You want a beer?” Jensen asks.

“Sure. Why not.”

And just because he’s feeling like an ass, Jensen packs a bowl while Misha drinks.

“Please, smoke that in this spacious, well-ventilated environment,” Misha says with a bite to his tone.

Jensen blows smoke in his face.

“Does Danneel smoke?”

“Occasionally, if she’s in the mood. Why?”

“You just—you smoke a lot. Just fishing to find out how she feels about it.”

“I’m not on a leash, dude.”

“I’m aware.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Are you bothered by how much I smoke?”

“Why the hell would I care? I’m not your wife.”

Jensen snorts back a laugh. He sets the bowl and lighter down on the coffee table and goes to the kitchen area to grab himself a beer.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Misha calls from the couch.

“Probably. You?”

“Me what? Staying here, in your—”

“In your own trailer, jackass.”

When Jensen comes back, he pushes Misha’s feet off the coffee table and takes a seat right next to him. He hands him a second beer, which Misha easily accepts. He twists the cap off with the underside of his forearm, which makes Jensen feel a little hot around the collar. Sure, he’s seen people do that before but never so effortlessly.

Misha looks at him curiously, then examines the lack of space between them. “Are we about to make—”

“I smell weed,” Jared announces as he bursts through the door.

Jensen and Misha don’t move away from each other, but they both stare at Jared.

“Oh, hey, Misha,” Jared greets with barely a glance at Misha. He’s too busy reaching for the bowl and lighter.

Jensen and Misha exchange an annoyed look. Jared doesn’t notice. 

The next night, Jared doesn’t show up. Jensen and Misha fall asleep watching TV in Jensen’s trailer. When Jensen wakes up, Misha is sprawled on top of him with his hand fisted in the front of his shirt. Jensen wraps his arms around him and falls back asleep.

When Jensen wakes up in the morning, Misha is gone.

They film a scene with Dean and Cas alone in a hotel room. Dean is drinking. Jensen is nervously sipping the dyed water in his tumbler while he tries not to stare too long at Misha.

During one take, Misha picks the bottle of fake whiskey up off the table, uncaps it, and brings it over to Jensen to slowly pour him some more. Jensen reacts the way Dean would react: confused but offers his cup over anyway. They play out the rest of the scene without any of the directors interrupting.

“What?” Misha asks once they’re in the middle of resetting.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jensen responds.

“You’re looking at me funny. Something on my face?”

“No, uh, just—what gave you the idea to fill up my drink?”

“Your empty cup.” The corners of Misha’s mouth curve up. “Thirsty today, huh?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and pretends like he’s not blushing.

The director comes in, which makes Jensen feel justified in thinking the whiskey pouring was weird. Directors only leave their screen between takes if an actor (Misha) does something stupid.

“Hey, uh, Misha? Can you try pouring that drink again?” He grabs a cameraman and moves him directly in front of Jensen and Misha. “We need another shot of that. Do exactly what you guys did before. We’ll probably have to run it a few more times. Good work, Collins.”

Jensen stares dumbfounded at the director as he leaves. When he turns back to the scene, Misha is smiling smugly.

“Acting choice, huh?” Jensen asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I make those sometimes.”

An hour later, the director finally lets them move onto something else. Jensen pulls at his collar and dabs the sweat from his forehead. When Misha gives him a curious look, Jensen shakes his head.

After they’re done, Jensen stalks off to his trailer without saying anything to Misha.

He’s annoyed, but unsurprised, when there’s a knock on his door 10 minutes later.

“What do you want, Mish?” he yells without getting up from where he was about to take a nap on the couch.

Misha comes in with his hair sticking straight up, barefoot, with holes in his t-shirt and his jeans rolled up above his calves.

“Should I even ask?”

Misha falls into the armchair and props his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s kind of cold in here.”

Jensen grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and throws it over the coffee table. Misha eagerly wraps it around himself.

“Why did that scene bother you today?”

“Since when do we talk about work?”

“That’s literally all we ever talk about.”

“It didn’t bother me.”

“Yes, it did.”

Jensen turns his head so they can glare at each other. Jensen breaks first.

“I don’t know, it was just, kind of, gay. Suggestive. It was suggestive.”

Misha tucks his feet onto the chair, curling the blanket up under his chin like a little kid. “So, business as usual?”

“We’re not—we don’t—that’s not—”

“Riveting. Please continue.”

Jensen crosses his arms over his chest. Which looks ridiculous because he’s lying flat on his back.

“It fit with the scene,” Misha placates. “I’m sure no one will think anything of it.”

“You couldn’t even say that with a straight face.”

Misha bursts out laughing—a self-deprecating, defeated sort of laugh. “No, I really couldn’t. We can’t do anything without people interpreting it as gay, so why even try? You needed a drink, so I poured it.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Jensen turns to his side. “I’m taking a nap.”

Misha settles deeper into the chair.

Jensen cracks one eye open. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a small flood in my trailer. My money’s on Jared. Good night.” He closes his eyes.

Jensen doesn’t protest.

He doesn’t protest when it becomes routine, either.

One afternoon while Jensen’s napping, he only half-wakes up when Misha sneaks in and slides his way onto the couch. Jensen throws an arm over Misha’s thighs and rests his head in his lap. Misha gives him a back rub, and Jensen makes embarrassing sleep noises. When he wakes up for real, he finds Misha asleep with his chin tucked to his chest and his hand still on his hip.

Very slowly, Jensen flips over onto his back and stares up at Misha’s face. After about 10 seconds, Misha blinks awake and smiles sleepily. He puts his free hand in Jensen’s hair and runs his fingers through it. Jensen closes his eyes and hums.

A P.A. knocks on the door and shouts that Jensen needs to be on stage three in 10 minutes. Jensen falls off the couch.

Two weeks before Jensen is scheduled to direct an episode, he starts to panic. He’s got the script and he’s been to the production meetings and he’s done his fucking homework every night, but he’s still panicking.

When he showed interested in directing a few years ago, Kim wasn’t exactly easy on him about it. To this day, Jensen believes Kim was trying to scare him out of ever even trying his hand behind the camera. He doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he agreed to this.

Well, yes he does. Danneel had encouraged him and said she was proud of him and that he’d blow it out of the park if he decided to do it. Jared had taken him out to the bar and bought him drinks all night while Jensen went over every single reservation he could think of. Jared tackled all of them. And Misha. Well, Misha shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal, like of course Jensen would direct an episode, why did it take so long for this to happen, the producers are a bunch of morons if they don’t let him regularly direct.

But that was then, and now Jensen’s having a hard time remembering any of that support.

Misha barges into his trailer one night while he’s deep in the handwritten notes he took whenever Kim directed an episode.

“Don’t really have time tonight, Mish,” he says sternly without looking up.

Instead of making some snide comment, Misha simply answers, “Oh. Um, I’m heading home in the morning for a couple weeks. Just wanted to make sure I saw you before I left.”

Jensen looks up then, his notes forgotten in his lap at the sight of Misha’s sad face. “I’m, uh, studying. For the episode I’m directing.”

Misha’s expression changes to a smile as he takes a seat next to Jensen on the couch. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s necessary. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Sure, you do. You’ve directed me in the middle of a scene. Not many people can act and direct at the same time.”

“It’s gonna be a disaster.”

“No, it won’t. You’re going to make this shitty show look like a masterpiece. Can I see the script?”

Jensen hands the stack of papers over. “Filler episode. Jim’s the star of it, so I’m glad he and I get along.”

“That was nice of them to give you an episode that you’re barely in. Lightens the load a bit.”

“Yeah, thank god for small blessings,” Jensen says bitterly.

Misha turns and studies his face for a second as if gauging Jensen’s sour mood. “I know you don’t mind hard work, so what is it that’s bothering you so much?”

“I don’t know, dude, I’m just stressed out. Can you let me be stressed out?”

“I’m really glad I’m not gonna be here the week you’re directing.”

“Wish you were,” Jensen mutters under his breath.

Misha smiles and fits his hand to the back of Jensen’s neck to give him a massage. “Relax, Jay. You’re amazing at everything you do, you’ll be amazing at this, too.”

Jensen looks sharply over at him. “The hell do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I’ve never seen you struggle with anything you’re asked to do. You do your own car stunts, for fuck’s sake. You know how many actors are allowed to even drive a car in a shot?”

“Yeah, but that shit’s easy. What’s it have to do with directing?”

“It doesn’t. My point is that it’s unfair how easily everything comes to you, so fuck you for thinking you’re not gonna be awesome at directing.”

“Really? Fuck me?”

“Yeah, fuck you! You’re an asshole.”

Jensen’s laughing now, and he can’t stop. He falls against Misha’s side gracelessly, so Misha wraps his arm around him and pats his back a few times.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Misha says.

Eventually Jensen composes himself and sits up just enough to look into Misha’s eyes. They smile at each other, their faces probably too close to be considered normal. Jensen’s eyes drift down to Misha’s lips.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to studying,” Misha announces as he removes his arm from around Jensen’s back. “I’m sorry I won’t be here for your directorial debut.”

“Thought that counts.”

On instinct, Jensen follows Misha to the door. They look at each other some more.

“Good night, Jensen.”

By the time the moment arrives for Jensen to direct, he’s feeling a lot more calm than he’s felt in the six months leading up to it. He had to smoke a lot of weed and have a lot of phone sex with Danneel, but he made it. He’s sitting in front of a screen watching Jim and he feels completely—mostly at ease.

The most taxing part, the part he didn't even take into account when he was stressing about this, is how often people come up to him asking him "this or that" questions. The set dresser needs to know if he wants a gold or silver candle holder on the desk, the sound mixer needs him to listen to some samples and pick which gunshot sounds best, the props master needs to know what he wants the covers of the books to say. It reminds him of the time he and Danneel went shopping for paint and he stared at swatches of eggshell versus gloss and wondered what the hell the difference was.

He wants to tell his crew that he doesn't care, that they can decide and he trusts their judgment, but that's not the way this works. It's not their job to design everything; it's his. It's such a big jump from saying lines and looking pretty that he very nearly loses it while deciding between two identical shots of Jim sitting at a bar.

Mostly at ease. Not freaking out as much as he was a week ago. He can do this.

At the end of the first day, he goes back to his trailer to find a giant bouquet of roses sitting on his coffee table.

The note reads, “You’re going to do great and I fucking hate you for it. -Misha”

Some tension eases from Jensen’s shoulders. 

Of course, there’s absolutely no turnaround before the next episode and so Jensen sleeps for 14 hours on his one day off, memorizes his lines in less than an hour, and chugs half a dozen cups of black coffee before even getting to wardrobe on Monday morning.

He’s hunched over a script, sitting in his director’s chair, when Misha finds him later that morning.

“You survived,” Misha greets with an easy smile.

Jensen looks up at him with wide eyes.

“And you almost have bags under your eyes. Amazing,” Misha continues, pressing his thumb lightly to Jensen’s cheek.

“That took 10 years off my life.”

“I heard Gamble was impressed with the dailies. Singer, too. You might be everybody’s new favorite director.”

“God, I hope not. I never want to do that again.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Jensen glares at him.

Misha laughs lightly and takes a seat in Jared’s director’s chair. “I’m glad you’re back to the lowly profession of acting. I was starting to develop an inferiority complex.”

Offhandedly, Jensen responds, “Good, can’t have you thinking you’re beneath me.”

“Did you like my roses?”

Jensen keeps his eyes trained on his script as he raises a middle finger.

“I personally had a very relaxing week at home with my extremely pregnant wife. She says hi, by the way.”

“Hi, Vicki.”

“Are you memorizing lines?”

Jensen deliberately sets his script against his lap and turns a sharp look on Misha. “Yes.”

Misha snorts a laugh as he gets up. “Fine, I get it. You’re busy and important. I’ll see you later.” He winks as he walks off.

Jensen watches him go for a second too long.

“You going home tomorrow?” Jensen asks over breakfast on September 21.

“Yep,” Misha answers without looking up from his food.

“I can drive you to the airport in the morning.”

“You don’t have to do—”

“You could crash at my place tonight. More convenient.”

That gets Misha’s full attention. “For you maybe.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to.”

As if on cue, Jared plops down next to Jensen and changes the subject.

But Misha does come over that night, and Jensen puts absolutely no planning into how to handle the situation. He helps Misha with his luggage, taking it into the guest bedroom and staring at the made bed for too long. He’s pretty sure nobody’s ever even slept in it. Maybe it’ll be good to get some use out of it.

“Uh,” Jensen says intelligently when he comes back into the living room.

Misha is searching along the edge of the wall with his phone charger in his hand.

“End table,” Jensen explains.

Misha hurries over and plugs the charger in. He looks down at his phone and types on it for a few seconds before acknowledging Jensen. “You have a lot of sleepovers?”

“You mean besides the yearlong one living with Jared?" He heads toward the fridge. "Beer?"

“Beer would be lovely. Whatever you have on tap.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Misha laughs, his voice growing closer as he makes his way into the kitchen.

After Jensen’s cracked open both bottles, he turns and finds Misha sitting up on the counter with his legs kicking the air. He gives him a skeptical look as he hands him his beer.

“What?”

“You’re really anxious about this kid.”

“Of course I am. It’s a fucking human being I gotta take care of for the next 18 years of my life. Of his life.”

“I know what you mean.”

Misha squints at him.

“I felt exactly the same way when we got Icarus.”

Misha stares at him, unmoving, for exactly 15 seconds.

“What? You don’t have any pets. You don’t know if it’s different.”

“Oh my god, Jensen.”

“Do y’all have a name?”

Misha takes a long pull from his beer. He smiles as he says, “West.”

“West Collins. I like it.”

“Anaximander.”

“Bless you?”

“West Anaximander Collins.”

Now it’s Jensen’s turn to stare.

“What?”

“Do you want the kid to get beaten up?”

“Nobody gives a shit about middle names. What normal, popular names do you have planned for your kids, Jensen?”

“Well, Misha, Dee and I haven’t talked about it. But they sure as hell won’t be Anaximander.”

“It’s cool and you’re jealous you didn’t think of it first.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

Misha hops off the counter with a huff. “I need stimulation. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Plenty of other ways to be ‘stimulated,’ but OK,” Jensen mutters to himself as they head back to the living room.

They fall asleep in front of the TV less than 20 minutes later.

When Jensen wakes up, his legs are stiff from being on the coffee table and his head hurts from resting his temple against Misha’s upper arm. He tries to move, but Misha’s cheek is pressed against the top of his head and Jensen’s got his arm looped around Misha’s bicep. Misha’s legs are also up on the coffee table, leaning so far against Jensen’s that their feet are almost tangled. How they moved this way in their sleep, Jensen has no fucking idea.

He does have an idea of how his thumb starts rubbing a circle into Misha’s bicep, but he'll deny it if Misha asks. Misha stirs and rubs his eyes, but then he presses his hand to Jensen’s thigh and returns the thumb-circling favor.

His hands. His fucking hands. Jensen watches the way Misha’s left hand works over the flannel of his pajama pants for a solid 20 seconds before settling his own hand over it. They both take a deep breath.

Quickly enough not to back out, Jensen turns his head and presses a kiss to Misha’s neck. Misha straightens up, swallows, and squeezes his thigh so hard that Jensen gasps. Before he knows it, Jensen’s hand is under his shirt feeling Misha’s hips and his stomach and his chest and his back and he’s kissing his neck and trying to get to his shoulder but everything’s moving in slow motion and he can’t get his shirt off and he’s afraid that if he moves too much they’ll both become aware of what’s going on and they'll stop and—

They’re kissing. They’ve both turned sideways and have their legs tangled together, and Misha moves his lips so forcefully that Jensen forgets to breathe. Jensen kisses him like he’s never kissed anybody before, and he knows he’s making embarrassing noises and moving too fast and holding on too desperately, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted this. God, he’s wanted this.

When he moves back to kissing Misha’s neck, Misha grabs his hand and pulls him to his feet.

“Bed.”

Jensen nods and sleepily leads Misha by the hand back to his bedroom. They keep right on kissing as soon as they’re in bed. Jensen is so tired, but he can’t miss this. They still haven’t talked. They haven’t figured anything out. Misha’s having a kid in two days. It might be the only kiss Jensen gets.

The guest bedroom remains unused.

Chapter Text

It’s so fucking hot when Misha wakes up. He kicks the covers away, but that doesn’t really solve the problem. He’s got 200 pounds of Jensen lying mostly on top of him, his morning breath lightly assaulting Misha’s face. Misha tries to move, but Jensen burrows deeper in his sleep.

With a longsuffering sigh, Misha wraps his arms around Jensen’s back and squeezes him tight. It feels really fucking good. But it’s really hot, and Misha really needs to get up and check the time.

“Jay,” he says hoarsely before clearing his throat and trying again. “Jay.”

Jensen whines and buries his face against his neck.

Oh my god how does Danneel deal with this.

Misha tries scooting his hips to the side in order to free his legs, but Jensen responds by canting his hips down and pressing his morning wood against his thigh.

Jesus fucking Christ how does Danneel deal with that.

After a bit more wiggling and whisper-shouting in Jensen’s ear, Misha decides to play dirty. He starts by running his fingertips over Jensen’s back followed by a few kisses to the top of his head. By the time he’s rucking up Jensen’s shirt and kissing his jaw, Jensen is stirring awake with an adorably sleepy grin.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles before pressing a sloppy kiss to Misha’s lips.

“Get off me.”

Jensen gets up on his hands and knees, locking Misha underneath him. He leans down and sucks a spot behind Misha’s ear before moving his lips down his neck and back up to his face.

“I need to see what time it is,” Misha tries even as he presses his hands to Jensen’s hips to hold him steady. “I can’t miss my flight.”

“Mm,” Jensen affirms without stopping his ministrations. He sneaks a hand between the bed and Misha’s back and works it down until he’s palming his ass.

Misha involuntarily bucks up.

“It’s gonna be really difficult to explain if I miss the birth of my child because of this.”

Jensen keeps right on kissing him.

“Jensen—seriously—you…”

He cuts him off by pushing his tongue between his lips. His breath is still terrible, but Misha’s finding it difficult to care. Jensen just has such soft lips and soft skin and his body is comfy and cozy and warm and hard to refuse.

Also, he’s the fucking hottest guy Misha’s ever seen, so there’s that.

Eventually, Jensen pulls away with a little laugh. He drops his forehead to Misha’s chest, making his hair tickle Misha’s chin.

“What? What’s funny?”

“You make noises. Like you’re mad that you’re turned on.” Jensen kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s hilarious.”

“I am mad.” He wiggles underneath Jensen and manhandles him away so he can sit up. “We’re gonna be fucking late.”

Misha swings his legs over the side of the bed, scrubs a hand down his face and reaches for his phone. It’s 6:46 a.m. They still have a few hours before his flight is due to take off. 

He’s so distracted by his phone that it takes him a second to notice that Jensen is curled up behind him giving him a shoulder rub and kissing the back of his neck.

“What is it with you and neck kissing?” Misha asks, irritated, even as he leans his head to the side to give Jensen more skin to work with.

“Mm,” Jensen says, still kissing him.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask Danneel.”

“Dee likes my neck. I’m probably just copying her.”

“Quit being such a girl.”

Jensen stops kissing him. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Maybe. You do say that a lot.”

Jensen huffs indignantly, which is the perfect opportunity for Misha to finally get up and put some pants on. As he’s zipping his fly, Jensen falls back on the bed and watches him with a pout.

“You can’t go back to sleep,” Misha says seriously. “We have to go.”

Jensen groans petulantly.

Misha considers offering a shower together as incentive to get Jensen up, but the suggestion dies in his throat as he rakes his eyes up and down Jensen’s body. Kissing is fine, and sleeping on top of each other is fine, but apparently actually talking about whatever they’re doing is not fine. Misha loves sex and would definitely love to have sex with Jensen, but Jensen isn't exactly the queerest guy he's ever met so it will undoubtedly take some time for him to warm up to the idea. If that's even what he wants.

They keep their distance as they get ready to go to the airport. Jensen makes coffee and downs three cups in the time it takes Misha to drink one. Misha comments on him not being a morning person, and Jensen grunts in response. Something warm and weird pulls in Misha’s chest as he watches Jensen nurse a giant mug while leaned back against the counter wearing low-slung sweatpants and a tattered Reading Rainbow t-shirt.

When Jensen catches him staring, he smiles gently at him and then looks down into his mug as he brings it to his lips. Misha doesn’t stop himself from crossing the small space between them, grabbing Jensen by the hip and yanking him forward to nose at his jaw.

After a few seconds, he pulls away. They stay close, smiling at each other, Jensen’s mug steaming between them. Misha pecks him once on the lips before going to the guest bedroom to gather his luggage.

It's good. It's all very good. At least, that's what he tells himself while he gathers his things.

On their way out the door, Misha blurts out, "We don't have to talk about it, right?"

Jensen grunts his agreement. 

"Good. I'd rather just..."

"Make it up as we go along?"

"Wasn't that a line in an episode?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Because you're—you know what, yes, we are making it up as we go along." 

They get in the elevator together and stand in silence through the first couple of dings. 

"Nervous?" Jensen asks.

"I thought we weren't talking about it."

"The baby, dumbass."

"Oh. Right." Misha takes a deep breath to center himself. "No."

Jensen reaches over and squeezes his hand. "Good."

West Anaximander Collins is born healthy and wailing at 8:22 p.m. on Thursday, September 23, 2010.  

Misha spends the first 10 minutes after his birth visualizing what it had looked like when he shot out of Vicki. Literally shot out of her. Once the head breached, the rest of the baby just slid right out like he was on a goddamn slip-n-slide.

He spends the next five minutes crying.

The next seven minutes, he rubs Vicki’s shoulders and asks if she’s OK and if there’s anything he can do for her. She tells him to quit coddling her and that he looks worse off than she does, so, “go take a nap, sweetheart.”

For the next 18 minutes, he takes a nap.

When he wakes up, a nurse is walking toward him with a bundle in her arms. He’s pretty sure his heart stops, but then West is warm and solid in his hold and he feels grounded in a way he’s never felt before. He sits like that for a long fucking time so that Vicki can get some rest. At some point his brother shows up and as soon as Misha looks up at him, Sasha snaps a picture.

“Wow, you’re really photogenic for somebody who hasn’t slept lately,” Sasha says as he texts the picture to Misha.

“I look good all the time.”

“C’mon, let me have the little guy. You take a nap.”

Misha is hesitant to hand West over, but another nap really does sound pretty great right now. Vicki will be up soon, breastfeeding will need to be done, and then a million other family members are sure to show up. So yeah, he should sleep some more.

He pulls out his phone to set an alarm just in case nobody decides to wake him up. He opens the picture Sasha sent him and fails to choke back a sob. What a disaster fatherhood is going to be for him.

Somewhere in his delirious, sleepless haze, Misha texts the picture of himself with West, sans comment, to Jensen.

Congrats, man.

Misha is confused by the brevity of the response until another text comes through.

OH MY GOD!!!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!

Right. Group message. Because it wouldn’t make sense not to share this with Jared as well.

He texts back, His name is West. I’m in love with him.

WEST!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

More pics, please. I need to see if he actually looks like a West.

As Misha’s typing a reply, he gets a text in another window. Seeing that it’s Jensen in a private message, he clicks right over to it.

You doing OK?

Deliriously happy

I can’t wait to meet him.

You’ll love him. He’s perfect.

I’m sure he is. He’s yours after all.

Gross

Don’t ever say anything remotely like that to me ever again.

Jensen sends him a string of frowny faces.

A few minutes later, he sends him another text.

That’s a really good picture of you by the way.

I just had a kid, I don’t have time to flirt with you.

Oh I didn’t realize you were the one who gave birth.

Fuck u

Please

Misha nervously looks around the room and pockets his phone as quickly as possible. Of course, everyone’s distracted by the baby and definitely not reading over his shoulder, so he’s not entirely sure why he’s panicking.

That night as he’s falling asleep in the least uncomfortable chair in the hospital room, his phone buzzes once again.

I know you just had a kid and are probably busy, but your silence is killing me, dude.

Oh my god you’re so needy

I'm BUSY

Several minutes pass before Jensen texts again.

You’re not mad at me, are you?

He’s barely done reading the text before he’s calling Jensen.

“Hey, Mish.”

“Did I sound mad? I’m just exhausted.”

“How long you been awake?”

“It’s not so much the being awake part, it’s more the trying to sleep in a hospital part.”

“When do y’all get to go home?”

“Monday. Hopefully. How are things up there?”

Jensen sighs loudly into the receiver. “Good. Miss having you on set.”

“Mm.”

He drops his voice lower. “And in my bed.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you do to me if I was in your bed right now?”

"What?" Jensen very nearly squawks.

"C'mon, you're the one being a flirt. So flirt." Misha laughs into the receiver. He's so ridiculously happy.

"I wanted to bite you. The other night, I don't know why. I've never bitten anyone in my life."

"My perfectly unblemished skin was taunting you."

"Still can't believe you fell asleep before we could fuck."

"What? We were gonna fuck?"

"You fell asleep! I was kissing your...stomach, and you fucking snored. You snored, and my boner was gone."

"Oh, yeah? My stomach, huh?" He's practically giggling now.

There's a pause before Jensen says, "The crease in your hip. I was just getting to the good stuff, and then you snored."

"You were right there at the short and curlies and I ruined it."

"Which, by the way, how much fucking hair do you have down there? It was a goddamn jungle, and I wasn't even near your junk."

Misha rubs his eyes as he laughs. "This is the weirdest phone sex I've ever had."

"You've obviously never caught Danneel drunk on a Sunday night." There’s another pause and some shuffling, like Jensen’s moving the phone from one ear to the other. “Any family members gonna stay with y’all and help out when you get home?”

“Vicki wanted some time with just the three of us before I have to go back to work. But then her sister is coming to take my place for a week or so.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled about that.”

“I don’t want to go back to work. The thought of leaving them for even just a few minutes stresses me out. Oh and FYI, don't think you can just breeze right over Danneel's drunken phone sex. I'll ask about that later, long after you've forgotten about it.”

Jensen laughs.

“What?”

“I can’t wait to see what kind of dad you are.”

“Like you're gonna be any better.”

“Who said I wanted kids?”

Misha laughs loudly into the phone.

“OK. Whatever. I’ll make fun of you for as long as I can.”

Misha hums and slouches down in his seat. “When are you and Dee gonna start?”

"Just got married, dude.”

“What’s there to wait for? I mean, it only took me and Vick nine years to decide to have kids.”

Jensen’s laugh is boisterous and tinny. It seems like he might've dropped his phone. “I'll see you soon, Mish. Good luck with the kid.”

“Bye, Jensen.”

“You two are getting along I guess,” Vicki mumbles as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

Misha immediately gets up and goes over to her bedside. He pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, takes her hand and brings it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Quit being a sap,” Vicki teases sweetly.

“No,” he answers with a smile.

She smiles back but then quickly changes to a grimace. With her free hand, she grabs her boob. “This thing is hard as a rock.”

With a frown, Misha grabs her boob. “Jesus. If I motorboated you right now, I’d break my jaw.”

“Ugh, god. The thought of doing anything sexual right now is just…”

Misha releases his hand from hers and scrubs it down his face. “Thank god I'm going back to Vancouver soon.”

Her mouth drops open. “You didn't?”

“I didn't.” He winks. “I did sleep with him though.”

Vicki excitedly grabs both her boobs. “Why didn't you tell me!”

“Um. We just had a kid.”

“When did this happen? His place or yours? Did you kiss?”

Misha laughs in embarrassment. “He slept on top of me.”

“And he survived? I can't even bump my foot up against your leg without you pushing me away.”

“Hey, that was one time.”

“Is it because he rubbed his morning wood up against your leg all night?”

Misha purses his lips and looks up at the ceiling. “Mm. Maybe.”

“How long ago, Misha?" 

He winces.

“Oh my god, we just had a kid.”

“That's what I—!” He lowers his voice. “That's what I said five seconds ago.”

She slaps his arm. “You couldn't’ve waited?”

“Until what? West goes to college? Our second kid?”

“He is fresh out of my body, Misha.”

“Please don't ever say that again.”

“My vagina might be useless right now—”

“Vicki—”

“—But I can still give B.J.’s.”

“Do you—are you jealous?”

“Oh, please. Of that incredibly handsome, rugged man? Of course not.”

He squints at her. “If you ask me not to have sex with him, I won't.”

She rolls her eyes. “Have at it, babe. I'm just annoyed because I'll be here wearing clip-on bras and diapers while you're up there banging the pride and joy of Texas.”

“You've never had an issue with incontinence, I'm sure you'll be out of the diapers in no time.”

“Ooh yeah, talk dirty to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“Hey.” She grabs the edge of his sleeve. “We have a baby.”

They giggle like idiots for a second, then Misha leans over and kisses her soft and sweet.

He sleeps soundly. 

Chapter Text

“What's up with you and Misha?"

Jensen pulls his beer away from his mouth. “What?"

“You text him a lot,” Jared says flatly.

“So?”

Jared shrugs. “You don't text anybody. Like, not even Danneel."

“That's completely untrue.”

“OK. Let me see your phone then.”

Jensen hugs his phone to his chest. He looks at Jared like he's an idiot.

“Oh, come on, dude, I'm not gonna do anything to it.”

Jensen ignores him as he types out a text. It's to Misha, but that's beside the point.

Jared lunges across the couch to fight Jensen for the phone, but Jensen stops him with a hand to his chest.

“Seriously,” Jensen warns. “I will kick you out of my apartment.”

Jared seems to get his tone, because he goes back to his seat with a crease between his brow. “Are you sexting him?”

“Yeah.”

Actually, Misha was telling him how he had to grab West’s head and shove his face toward Vicki’s boob whenever he needed to nurse. He's currently asking Jensen if he's a terrible person for finding the situation hilarious.

“You know, sometimes I think you're not kidding.”

Jensen looks up from his phone with a bored expression. “Dude. Really?”

“No, I know. I know you're not—that would be really fucked up if y’all were, like…”

“Don't finish that sentence.”

Jared huffs a laugh. “I mean, I know he's kind of gay, but—”

“What?”

“Well, you know, he's just a little…”

“Gay? You think Misha’s gay.”

“He just gives off that vibe! He's—a little—just—flamboyant.”

“Oh, so you've got gaydar now? I thought only gay people had gaydar.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jared says as he throws a pillow at Jensen’s face. “I'm obviously not gay.”

Jensen laughs and drinks his beer. He knows if he keeps teasing that Jared will get legitimately upset, which will inevitably make Jensen feel pretty shitty about himself.

He hasn't really had time for a big gay freak out yet, but he's pretty sure it's coming. Jump-starting it by poking his friend into blatant homophobia is not how he wants to spend a Sunday evening, so he changes the subject.

“Have you and Gen started talking about kids yet?”

“Not really. I think I want some though, don't you?”

Jensen shrugs noncommittally. “Yeah, at least one.”

“We might change our minds when Misha comes back. Let's see how big the bags under his eyes have gotten.”

“I don't think that's a fair judgment. The dude’s already got the most tired eyes I've ever seen.”

“Oh, you spend a lot of time looking at Misha’s eyes?”

This time it's Jensen who throws the pillow.

“How early can babies travel?” Jared asks dumbly. “I wanna meet West.”

“You could always go down to them whenever we have a break.”

“Nah, I don’t care that much.”

Jensen balks at that, but Jared doesn’t even notice.

“Kids aren’t really even fun until they’re older," Jared justifies. "Newborns are pretty useless.”

“What the fuck do you know about kids?”

“More than you probably. All I’m saying is that it’s not worth it to hang out with West until he’s old enough to refer to me as Uncle Jared.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. ‘Uncle Jensen,’ that makes us sound so old.”

“Well it’s not like West is gonna call you ‘Mr. Ackles.’”

“Just stop talking.”

“I guess he could just call us Jared and Jensen. I don’t know what the fuck kids are supposed to call adults.”

“Thought you knew something about kids.”

Jared slides down the couch until he’s lying almost completely flat. He sets his beer on the coffee table. “I wish he’d send us more pictures. I’ve only seen, like, three.”

Jensen grunts in response. He really doesn’t feel like getting in a fight with Jared by admitting that Misha’s sent him at least two dozen pictures of West in the last week. He even asked Danneel how to create albums on a phone so he could make one titled “M” and put all the pictures Misha sends him in there. He’s considering downloading an app to make it even more hidden. Just in case Jared—or anybody else—ever gets their hands on his phone and decides to snoop. Not that pictures of a friend’s newborn child are defamatory, but they aren’t exactly the only type of picture Misha sends.

(No, they haven’t exchanged nudes yet. Jensen’s too chickenshit to ask and also he’s not in ninth grade.)

“He’s sent you more, hasn’t he?” Jared presses.

“What?”

“He has! Let me see!”

Suddenly Jared is on Jensen’s side of the couch, crowding him and hovering over his phone with wide eyes.

“Jesus, dude, chill.”

“Come on! I know you have them.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but opens the album anyway. He makes sure to tilt his phone away from Jared until a picture of West is on the screen.

Jared coos and aww’s as they swipe through about 10 of them. While they’re laughing at a picture of Misha shirtless and asleep on the couch with a naked West asleep on his chest, Jensen’s phone buzzes with a text.

In a notification at the top of the screen, it reads, You’ll never look at your wife’s boobs the same after you—

Jensen snatches the phone away and quickly responds to Misha’s text.

“What the fuck are y’all talking about?”

“Um. Baby stuff.”

Jared squints at him for a long time.

Jensen sniffs. “As if you don’t have weird conversations with Gen all the time,” he says flippantly as he responds to Misha’s text.

“Um, yeah. She’s my wife. ” A beat passes, so Jared huffs a laugh to break the tension. “I mean, I know you gave him your ring but I didn’t realize you were actually married.”

“Well, he doesn’t even wear that ring anymore so I guess we’re divorced.”

“You sound legitimately upset about that.”

Jensen crosses his arms over his chest.

“Anyway, I think I’m gonna hit the road. Don’t stay up all night texting your husband, alright? He’s got a kid to take care of.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jensen grumbles with a middle finger for good measure.

The weekend before Misha’s return, Danneel flies up to Vancouver because Jensen asked her to. When he gets home from work, he finds her sitting on the couch in her pajamas.

Before he’s even set his things down, she says, “I’m just here as a replacement for Misha, aren’t I?”

He pouts at her as he crosses the room, and he doesn’t say anything before sliding up next to her and burying his face in her hair for some neck kisses.

She wraps one arm around his back and the other around his neck, scratching her fingernails gently through his hair. “I missed you, too, I guess,” she says monotonously.

“How long?”

“My flight out is on Tuesday. You know I sat in the airport for three hours today? Just for you. You better be glad I love you a lot.”

He laughs sheepishly and knocks his forehead against her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re cute.”

“Who’s watching Icarus?”

“A high schooler who lives across the street. She’s a fan of yours.”

“How much you paying her?”

“Hundred bucks a day. She knows we have money, I couldn’t be cheap.”

Jensen shrugs. “I’m not mad, I spent a couple thousand on clothes last week.”

“You did what?”

“Hey, I was just—”

Danneel smacks him in the face with a pillow. “We have a mortgage, you know.”

“I make a hundred grand a week.”

“That doesn’t mean you should be wasteful. What’d you buy?”

“A reversible jacket.”

“Wow.”

“It’s like two jackets for the price of—”

She smacks him with a pillow again.

Jensen’s phone rings, so he fishes it out of his pocket and ignores Danneel as she says, “If that’s Misha and you answer, I swear to god—”

“Hey, Mish,” Jensen says as he puts the phone up to his ear.

Danneel gets up and storms off.

Misha sighs loudly into the receiver.

“Jesus, I’ve got some whiners,” Jensen says mostly to himself.

“What?” Misha asks.

“Nothing. What’s up?”

“Can you pick me up from the airport?”

“Uh, right now?”

A beat passes before Misha says, “No. In a week. Did you forget what day it is, or did you think I had come back a week early just for shits and giggles?”

“I don’t know. When does your flight get in?”

“On your day off. I’m sorry, you’ll have to do laundry some other time.”

Now Jensen’s the one sighing into the phone.

“I can ask a driver to—”

“No! No. I want to do it. Obviously.”

There’s a puff of breath like Misha’s trying not to laugh. “We’re OK, right?”

“The hell you mean?”

Danneel comes back with two beers. Jensen reaches his hand up to take one.

“We haven’t really…”

“Talked?”

“Yeah, that. I just need to know if it’s appropriate for me to—to, um, kiss you at the airport.”

Danneel’s mouth widens in surprise. Jensen elbows her in the arm. Stupid loud phone.

“Well, in the airport would probably be a bad idea since we’re photographed pretty much every time we step foot in an airport, but once we get to the car, yeah.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Just, uh, didn’t expect you to be so cool about it.”

“You think I’m gonna panic.”

Danneel vigorously nods her head, eyes deliberately closed.

“Oh, I know you’re gonna panic. Just haven’t figured out when yet.”

“Hey, I’m not some—”

“No offense, but yes you are.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t I?”

Jensen sets his jaw. “I’m not a closet case.”

“Oh, great, well in that case, I’d love to suck you off in the airport parking lot.”

He nearly drops his phone. “Let’s not—please don’t—”

“I’ll see you in a week, Jay.”

Misha hangs up before Jensen can say anything else.

“Hm,” Danneel says after a tense minute of silence.

“What?”

“He’s trying to provoke you.”

“What?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“Nah, he probably just—you couldn’t even hear him that clear—”

“He’s pushing you. To see how far he can go to get a rise out of you. He’s clever, I’ll give him that.”

Jensen growls. “Why would he want to do that?”

“Um, because you are a closet case. You’re both married? And kind of famous? He’ll test you to see how serious you are.”

“No. No, he wouldn’t.”

Danneel throws her hands up in defeat. “OK, fine. I’ll just patiently wait for my ‘I told you so.’”

Jensen glares at her. “I didn’t ask you here to analyze my—whatever with Misha.”

“You’re absolutely right. So what else is going on, how's Jared?"

They talk for several minutes, gravitating closer to each other, Jensen forgetting all his worries about Misha in the calming presence of his wife. He slouches down on the couch, holding his beer on top of his knee and not really drinking it.

Eventually, Danneel slides her hand along his thigh, squeezing and rubbing it and slowly moving her way up and in until she’s right at his inseam. He shifts down, sets his beer on the end table, and rests one arm over the back of the couch. Involuntarily, he makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, which makes Danneel laugh softly.

He looks over at her with a dopey smile on his face, and she winks back at him.

As her hand works over his crotch, he finds himself too boneless and relaxed to even care if they make it past over-the-pants rubbing. He just likes the lazy spontaneity, the fact that they can do this in the living room with the lights on and not worry about some roommate coming home and catching them.

Although, the idea of being caught is definitely hotter than it should be.

He closes his eyes and wonders if he could fall asleep like this, but then Danneel’s hand is at his belt buckle and he whines in protest.

She laughs and doesn’t say anything as she undoes his fly. Unceremoniously, she shoves her hand into the front of his underwear and curls her fingers around his shaft in a strong grip.

“Kinda wanna try something different tonight,” Danneel whispers.

“Mm?”

“Turn over.”

He doesn’t really want Danneel to stop touching him, but he trusts her implicitly, so he flips over onto his stomach as per her direction.

She pulls at his belt loops, so he pushes his butt up in the air so she can slide his pants and underwear down and out of the way.

“You gonna spank me?”

“Shh.”

It’s a little unnerving having his ass exposed and not really knowing what’s about to happen. Danneel isn’t touching him, and he wants to look back to see what she’s doing, but he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise. He folds his arms under his chin and waits.

Danneel clears her throat, shifts so that she’s straddling his legs, and then her hands palm his ass and he realizes what’s about to happen and tries to hold back his gasp of delight.

When Danneel’s soft, cold tongue presses flat to his hole, he lets out a contented, guttural sigh that would be embarrassing if it was anybody other than Danneel back there.

“You know how you got that Brazilian thing before our wedding?” Jensen asks.

She pinches his hip to confirm.

“I, uh. I…cleaned. You know. Just in case.”

She snorts a laugh, but her tongue stays steady. She circles it around agonizingly slowly before pressing the tip repeatedly into his muscle.

He takes a deep breath and arches his hips back greedily. She helps him along by wrapping her hands around his hips and steadily pulling him up toward her. His elbows dig into the couch to hold him up, and if he thought he was strong enough he’d reach between his legs and—

Danneel does it for him. She jacks him nice and slow in rhythm with her tongue and he has no fucking idea how she’s doing it but he’s never been so goddamn sure that he married the right girl.

He comes faster than he wanted to, but he’s too excited to care. At some point Danneel had shoved a washcloth on the couch under him, which makes him wonder how fucking out of it he must’ve been not to notice her do that. In any case, he’s glad he doesn’t have to clean come off the couch.

He collapses face down on the couch and doesn’t even feel bad knowing that Danneel is cleaning up after him and that his ass is still bare for the whole world to see.

When the high starts to recede, he yanks his pants back up and flips over onto his back. Heat rises to his cheeks, shame flaring hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach. He swallows.

Danneel slides in next to him on the couch, lying on her side and wrapping her arm around his chest so she doesn’t fall off. He scoots deeper against the back of the couch to try to give her more space.

“That wasn’t nearly as disgusting as I expected it to be,” Danneel says casually.

Jensen tries to laugh, but it comes out a bit strangled.

“You OK, babe?” she asks, lifting her head off his chest in order to look at him.

“Mm.”

“You, uh, liked that, didn’t you? I didn’t push you too far, did I?”

“What? No! I mean, yeah. I mean! Fuck. I don’t know.”

She purses her lips and scans his face.

He rolls his eyes and tries to escape her gaze, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Oh my god.”

“What.”

“I just kickstarted your gay freakout, didn’t I?”

This time, the laugh comes out natural. The tension eases out of Jensen’s body.

“I thought me eating your ass would make it less weird when Misha wants to do it.”

“Babe, can you just—”

“Not that I didn’t want to do it. There are very few things I don’t want to do to you. With you! I meant with you.”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna tell me all the stuff you’re gonna do to me?”

She presses her finger to the tip of his nose. “No. Because one of the things I want to do is surprise you.” She kisses his cheek. “Seriously, you’re not freaking out, are you? Because I can talk you through it if you’re—”

“Danneel. I’m fine. I just, uh, you know...It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

He clears his throat. “Rim jobs, you know. Wanting that—it’s just weird is all. It makes me feel weird.”

“It makes you feel ashamed.”

He wants to deny it, but she’s right. He stays quiet.

“Nobody’s judging you, Jay. Everybody likes weird shit, and if that’s the weirdest thing you like then you’re a lot more boring than the rest of us.”

He pulls her closer to his side, his hand fixed to the small of her back.

“So we’re holding off on the big gay freakout for today?”

“What makes you think I’m gonna freak out?” he grumbles.

She laughs loudly. “I’m honestly shocked it hasn’t happened already. I’ve been preparing for months.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“How much do you miss him right now? Scale of one to 10.”

“Zero.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK. Five.”

“That’s it?”

If he weren’t still embarrassed, he’d say something like, “My wife just made me come with her face buried in my ass, I’m not thinking about anything right now.” But, being the bashful little girl that he is, he says, “I’ve got better things going on,” before pressing a sloppy kiss to her forehead.

“Gross, you sap. That was nastier than your ass.”

He almost pushes her off the couch.

For the record, they have sex five more times before Danneel goes back home. Missionary style. With the lights off. All five times.

There’s a little girl in a yellow dress holding her dad’s hand and twirling around him while he completely ignores her. He’s staring at the luggage corral and has been for the past five minutes. If Jensen were in that position, he would’ve already asked somebody where the hell his bag is. But this guy seems to have endless patience.

“Ready to go?”

Jensen turns his head up at the familiar voice and just stares at Misha’s unshaven face for a second before blinking back to himself, standing, grabbing Misha’s luggage and patting him cordially on the arm. “What took you so long? Been here 10 minutes.”

“Wow, 10 whole minutes and not one text from you. I’m impressed.”

“I’m not that impatient.”

Misha looks at him as if he knows that 30 seconds ago Jensen was judging the patience of a total stranger.

“How’s the baby?”

“I don’t want to talk about him. I’ll cry.”

“You serious?”

“You wanna risk finding out?”

Jensen frowns and keeps walking. He supposes it must be tough to have a brand new kid and have to leave him to go back to work. And living so far away. It must suck.

They’re mostly silent for the rest of the walk to the car. One guy snaps some pictures of them, so people will know they were at the airport together. It’s really nothing incriminating, but Jensen still resents the camera in the man’s hand.

When they get to the car, Jensen is barely buckled in and is in the middle of a sentence when Misha grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him over the console to kiss him.

Jensen huffs a muted laugh in the back of his throat and slips his hand gently around the back of Misha’s neck to hold him steady. He purposely parked in a dark, empty corner of the deck, but that doesn’t mean he’s not surprised that Misha is actually following through on his request to kiss in the car.

They kiss for probably too long. So long that they’ll probably get charged for an extra hour in the deck. Misha uses his tongue in ways that makes Jensen feel like a goddamn teenager again. He presses a hand to his jeans just to ease some of the pressure building in his cock, but he wants more and he knows he’s not going to get it here.

When Misha breaks free from his mouth and moves onto his neck, Jensen groans and shuts his eyes. “Mish.”

“Mm.”

“My place or yours?”

“Mine.”

“Mm-kay.”

They pull away reluctantly, Misha chasing Jensen’s lips and getting a couple extra pecks in before Jensen finally puts the car in reverse.

Jensen clears his throat as an awkward silence falls over them. His heart is beating fast in his chest, but he doesn’t know if that’s because of the adrenaline or because Danneel is right and he really is having his big gay freakout. No, they haven’t even had sex yet. He refuses to freak out about this before knowing what Misha’s dick tastes like. Looks like. He meant looks like.

“How’s Dee?” Misha asks.

“Don’t call her that, man,” Jensen laments. “Not after your tongue’s been in my mouth.”

“Oh, excuse me. How’s your lovely wife who is yours and belongs to you only so I won’t even say her name because that belongs to—”

“Shut up.”

“Does she even know how possessive you are?”

He shrugs noncommittally, his hands tight around the steering wheel.

“How did you even react when she told you that she and I kissed that night?”

“What?” Jensen shouts.

Misha jumps so hard that his knees hit the underside of the glove compartment.

“You did what?” Jensen asks, quieter but more deadly.

“She didn’t tell you that we…?”

He clenches his jaw.

“Oh my god, Jensen, I am so, so sorry. It didn’t—I don’t know how it happened. She just sort of...and I kind of...it didn’t really mean anything. Obviously. And it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It better not fucking happen again.”

“It won’t!”

“That’s my wife. She’s mine.”

A beat passes before Misha smacks Jensen’s arm with the back of his hand. “You asshole.”

Jensen can’t stop laughing. “I had you going there for a second.”

Misha just shakes his head, his tongue moving around the inside of his cheek like he’s stopping himself from saying anything.

“She told me right after it happened. I mean, duh. I told her right when I kissed you the first time, so it was only fair.”

“Oh right. Those things happened in that order,” Misha says thoughtfully, his annoyance already forgotten.

“I just realized something.”

“Hmm.”

“I can’t believe I even remember this, but after Dee kissed you she said something about me being right in thinking that you’re…”

“That I’m…?” Misha fishes a bit smugly as if he knows where this is going.

“That you’re a good kisser, alright? She mentioned it to you, and she said you just stared at her and didn’t say anything. I’m realizing now that makes sense because you had no idea what she was even talking about.”

“Oh! No.” Misha giggles. “I didn’t even hear what she said, and I was too focused on her mouth to bother asking.”

“Hey, man, that’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Now Jensen’s the one giggling. He reaches over to give Misha a jovial pat on the knee, but instead of pulling his hand away he just leaves it there and rubs his thumb along the outside of his thigh.

Misha drops his hand over Jensen’s without a single sarcastic remark.

When they get to Misha’s apartment, Jensen insists on carrying his luggage upstairs for him so that he has a viable excuse to come inside.

“Thank you, Jensen, you really didn’t have to—”

Jensen pushes him back against the closed door and captures his lips. Misha melts into it like he was waiting for it, and his arms snake their way around Jensen’s hips and settle firmly at his lower back. Jensen gets a little more aggressive and insistent while shoving his leg between Misha’s so he can rub his thigh against his crotch.

“Jensen,” Misha breathes as he brings one hand up against his chest. “It’s getting late.”

Shocked, Jensen pulls back and frowns at him.

Misha surges forward to kiss him again, but after just a few seconds Jensen pulls away and clears his throat.

“Um. I’ll uh, see you at work. I’m just gonna…”

Misha lets him leave.

Chapter Text

“He’s been awake for 12 minutes, I don’t know what to do,” Vicki says exasperatedly.

“Has he looked at you?”

“No, he’s still just—you know, completely clueless. Looking around everywhere like he thinks he’s still in the womb. I’m ready for him to be, I don’t know, more fun.”

Misha laughs into the phone. “Remember when you were making fun of me for wishing that he—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t want him to grow up. I just don’t know what to do with him right now. I need him to be a little more aware so I don’t go out of my mind with boredom.”

“Are you writing?”

Vicki sighs into the receiver. “Some. Maybe I’ll try to get into a better routine. I'm thinking about going out tomorrow night, there's a poetry reading at the coffeehouse."

"You gonna take West?"

"Yeah, why not? We decided our lives weren't going to change when we had kids, right?"

"Right." He vaguely remembers the doctor saying something about not taking newborn babies out in public until a certain age, but he pushes that thought aside. 

"How are you doing?” Vicki asks after a pause.

Misha groans loudly.

“You haven’t even gone back to work yet, how are you this—”

“The answer is always Jensen, hon.”

Now Vicki is the one groaning. “What’d he do this time?”

“We, um, kissed. A few times.”

“Go on.” She doesn’t bother pulling the phone away from her ear while she baby talks to West.

“We didn’t bone, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t have a fucking clue if he even…”

“Are you telling me you can’t tell if he’s a top or bottom? Because having only met him a couple of times, I can confidently say that he’s—”

“I’m not sure he’s ever had sex with a man before.” He pauses, but Vicki doesn’t fill the silence. “I don’t really have the patience to be a teacher.”

“No offense, but do you even want this? Whatever it is you’re doing with Jensen—do you even want it?”

“I can’t—I don’t even know what it is. I don’t know what we’re doing. Don’t you think it’s worth it to at least find out before deciding to throw in the towel?”

“OK. Let’s say he was a five instead of a 10. Would you still be interested?”

“No. But he’s not a five, he’s an 11, so on principle alone I’d be a moron not to try to fuck him.”

West makes some kind of noise like a sneeze, and Misha can hear Vicki moving him around. When she’s done, she says, “You don’t just want to fuck him though. If that were the case, you would've fucked him already. So tell me what else you like about him besides his looks.”

Misha opens his mouth to speak but then his mind goes blank. He furrows his brow and pictures Jensen, but the only thing he can think of is how big and girlish his eyes are.

“OK, new rule,” Vicki says after realizing that Misha obviously wasn’t ever going to respond. “You’re not allowed to have sex with him until you figure out why you like him.”

“Deal.”

“Good. West needs to nurse. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you.”

After they hang up, Misha scrolls through Twitter for a few minutes so that he doesn’t have to think about anything. He misses his goddamn kid, he’s tired, and he’s stuck in Vancouver trying to reason whether it’s a good idea to fuck his best friend.

Best friend. Maybe that’s not quite accurate. He switches from Twitter over to messenger.

Do you remember when we fucked for the first time?

Darius texts back within seconds. Hello to you, too, friend I’ve barely talked to since you had a kid.

You were at my house for three days.

That doesn’t mean we talked to each other.

Can you just answer the question?

Yes, I remember. Of course I remember. Why are you even asking me this?

Did you just want my body or did you want more?

Misha meant for it to sound sarcastic, but Darius takes longer than usual to respond and that’s extremely nerve-wracking.

This is about that guy Jensen, isn’t it?

Maybe.

From what you’ve told me, he seems to like you for more than just your pretty face.

No, that’s not the problem. Other way around.

Oh well yeah obviously HE’S just a pretty face. Fuck him and move on, Mish. Plenty of fish in the sea.

Granted, you’re never gonna find a hotter fish than him, but there are definitely more INTERESTING fish in the sea.

If that’s what you’re into.

Misha has to erase and start over a couple of times to keep up with Darius’ string of texts. But you just said he’s interested in me for other things. I’m not some asshole who fucks people and then ignores them.

Oh, really????? Then why haven’t you spoken to me for the past six months?????

Darius. You've been in the hospital. I've talked to you almost daily. 

Look, Mish, you and I were teenagers and virgins when we fucked. We’re still best friends. You’re gonna be fine no matter what you do, babe.

Weirdly, the sentiment comforts him. He sends a quick thanks to which Darius doesn’t reply. He then plugs his phone in to charge, sets his alarm and gets in bed. He’s got a long day ahead of him tomorrow, so he’s going to at least try to sleep.

Why do I even like him.

Once again, he sees an image of Jensen with his crooked nose and weak chin and his ears that stick out too far—things that somehow make him more attractive.

He sees his soft smile and the way he ducks his head when he’s embarrassed or bashful. His overwhelming gentleness despite the fact that he tries so hard to be manly. The way he laughs at everything Misha says and how he tries to make Misha laugh, too. His endearing grumpiness, his lack of shame when he’s clueless about something, his inability to speak in complete sentences.  

“Fuck,” Misha says out loud.

He's not anything like Vicki or Darius or anybody else Misha's ever lo—liked. He's not interesting, not really. He's so normal and average compared to anybody else in Misha's life, and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why he can't get him out of his fucking head. By not being weird and unique, he sets himself apart from everybody else. He makes Misha feel grounded and safe in a way that other people just don't. 

That’s as far as he gets before forcing himself to go to sleep.

The next morning, Misha gets to work and goes straight to his trailer without saying anything to anyone. He makes some tea and tries to drink it slowly as he reads through his pages for the day. It’s quiet on the lot, so when a group of people walk past outside it’s easy to pick out the voices. It’s easy to pick out Jensen’s.

Despite himself, he stops reading and just listens for a moment.

“...Pulling into the spot, and one of the tires just blew. It was fucking nuts, so they called a stunt guy in.”

He must be talking about the Impala. Jensen always does his own stunts with that car; he could probably be a professional stunt driver at this point. A quick learner and good at everything he tries—add it to the list.

The sound fades, but it takes Misha a second to snap out of it and go back to his pages. God, what the fuck is wrong with him. He doesn’t get smitten.

Maybe it’s the baby. Maybe he’s changed now that he’s a dad and he misses West and that’s all he’s feeling. Yeah, that’s it. He’ll blame the baby.

It’s a particularly busy day for him in and out of the studio. He spends way more time than he prefers in the sound booth doing ADR, which means that he has to drink tea consistently throughout the day so he doesn’t lose his voice. He thinks about all the times he and Jensen have complained to each other about how they’re ruining their voices. Usually he finds it hilarious that Jensen pitched his voice down to try to match Misha’s level of gruff intensity, but today he finds it endearing. As if Jensen did it so that Misha wouldn’t be alone in his stupid decision. They could gripe about it together, something they never would’ve been able to do had Jensen not copied him.

Stop, stop, stop, Misha chants in his head, as if willing his brain to think about other, less embarrassing things. It doesn’t work.

After a late lunch where he sneaks in and out of the craft services tent to avoid talking to anyone, he’s carted off to a location almost an hour's drive away. Neither Jared nor Jensen are filming with him today, which is a small blessing. If he sees Jensen, he’s afraid he might do something monumentally stupid like blurt out that he loves him or something.

Not that he actually loves him. Because he doesn’t. Not like that.

When he gets back to his trailer late that night, he lies down on the couch and considers falling asleep in full costume. Just as he’s drifting off, there’s a knock on his door.

He groans loudly.

“Mish. Let me in,” Jensen says as he shakes the handle. “I know you’re in there.”

Misha reluctantly pulls himself up off the couch and opens the door.

“Hey,” Jensen says softly with a gentle smile on his face. He steps inside and closes the door before placing his hand on Misha’s cheek and kissing his forehead.

Misha’s knees nearly buckle under the tenderness of it.

“Haven’t seen you all day,” Jensen continues as he heads toward the kitchen. “Good day back?”

“Not really.” Suddenly feeling stupid in his costume, he takes off the trench coat and tosses it on a chair.

Jensen frowns as he comes out of the kitchen with two beers. He hands one to Misha and takes a seat on one end of the couch, gesturing for Misha to sit next to him. “Why’s that? I figured you’d be happy to be back at work.”

With a sigh, Misha plops down on the couch. Jensen wraps his arm around his shoulders and coaxes him closer. Misha squints at him. Jensen shrugs. Misha scoots over until he’s tucked into Jensen’s side. It’s weird.

“Have a kid and then tell me how you feel about going back to work hundreds of miles away from your newborn baby and wife.”

He means for it to sound lighthearted, but it comes out bitter and sad. Jensen grabs his arm and squeezes him tight.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?” Jensen asks sweetly.

In a moment of weakness, Misha settles deeper into Jensen’s hold and rests his head against his chest. In an even more pathetic moment of weakness, he asks, “Why do you like me?”

Jensen laughs nervously, which Misha can feel reverberate through his entire body. “Who says I like you?”

Misha lifts his head off his chest and gives him a scandalized look.

A smile curls Jensen’s lips as he leans forward to give Misha a quick kiss. “If you want me to wax poetic about you, it ain’t gonna happen. So why don’t you tell me why you’re asking? What’s bothering you?”

Knows me too well—added to the list. “Do you find me attractive.” It’s not a question.

A beat passes. Jensen shifts uncomfortably. “Um. I mean, you’re no Danneel—”

“That’s not fair, she paid a lot for that rack—”

“—But yeah, I find you attractive. In a dorky, weird kind of way.” He puts his mouth right next to Misha’s ear and whispers, “Talk about my wife’s tits like that again and I’ll kill you.”

(Misha’s pretty sure he’s joking, but a thrilled tingle still runs down his spine at his threatening tone.)

When Misha doesn’t say anything, Jensen continues, “It’s not your looks that drew me to you though. Well, at first it was. But then I got to know you, and you’re smart and funny and strange and pretty much everything I like in a person.”

Misha pokes the center of his chest. “What happened to not waxing poetic?”

“Shut up.”

“You do realize how fucking hot you are, right?”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs so hard that Misha has to move away from him. When he composes himself, he says, “I’ve been told, yeah.”

“So you get that you’re way out of my league?”

“Is that what you’re worried about? Me being hotter than you? Dude—”

“I just want to lay all the cards on the table before we get too far into this.”

“Too far into what?” Jensen asks quietly.

They look at each other. Misha doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to say here, so he surges forward and captures Jensen’s mouth. He slides his tongue between his lips and is relieved when Jensen copies him. They kiss long and slow, almost lazy.

“You’re right, we were talking too much,” Jensen mumbles between kisses.

“Mm-hmm,” Misha replies as he runs his hand up through Jensen’s hair.

Misha tries to move closer to him, and when Jensen realizes it he grabs Misha by the hips and hauls him over onto his lap. It’s so hot that Misha can’t even feel embarrassed about the whimper that escapes him. Jensen laughs against his lips and digs his fingertips into his sides.

“It really does piss you off,” Jensen whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Being turned on. It pisses you off.”

Misha bites Jensen’s bottom lip, pulls his hair hard where it’s the longest, rolls his hips forward. “Just when it’s you.”

“Wow, I’m flattered.”

He rocks back a little. “Can you shut up for five seconds?”

Jensen growls and pushes Misha down on the couch in response. Misha spreads out on his back as Jensen hovers over him and kisses him breathless.

Just as Misha is reaching for the buckle of Jensen’s belt, his phone rings.

Jensen huffs angrily as Misha shifts beneath him to grab his phone from the coffee table.

“It’s my wife. Who just had a baby. You can wait,” Misha chastises.

He doesn’t realize it’s Facetime until Vicki’s upper half appears on the screen, tiny baby lying across her middle as she breastfeeds.

“I see you’re getting a good night’s rest,” Misha greets as he sits up on the couch and scoots away from Jensen. He’s pretty sure he manages to keep Jensen out of the sight lines.

“He’s been on this boob for 26 minutes straight. I’m so tired.”

“Jesus. You sure he’s not asleep?”

Jensen doesn’t leave. He sits a respectable distance away and tries to fix his hair.

“Unless he’s sucking in his sleep, then yeah, I’m sure.”

“I’m sorry he’s keeping you up. I wish I could help.”

Jensen’s hand slides over to Misha’s thigh, squeezes, rubs, moves higher. Misha squirms.

“Even if you were here, it’s not like you’d be much help. Unless your nipples magically started producing milk.”

Jensen gets so close to his crotch that Misha has to close his eyes for a second. When he opens them, Jensen is significantly closer to him.

“That would be somewhat of an inconvenience. I’d have to pump every day and then what would I do with the milk? Freeze it until I see you guys again? I’d run out of room in my freezer.”

Jensen’s mouth is on his neck, and Misha’s free hand has found its way to Jensen’s thigh.

“Oh, hello,” Vicki says in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had a friend over.”

“Yeah—I—uh…” He dissolves into a groan as Jensen rakes his teeth along his skin.

“So how was your first day back at work, honey?” Vicki asks facetiously.

Jensen kisses a quick line from his ear to his collarbone and then parks at his shoulder for a while. His hands work at his pants, which Misha is trying very hard to ignore.

“It’s better now than it was earlier.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“But it sucks how much I miss you guys. Why do I have to be here when I should be there with you.”

Jensen gets his fly undone and rubs his hand directly over the front of Misha’s orange-and-black-striped underwear.

“Because if you don’t pay the bills, we’re fucked.”

“Mm—good—point.”

“Um. Where did your boy toy go?”

Just as she finishes asking the question, Jensen ducks his head forward and sucks the tip of Misha’s cock into his mouth. Misha bucks his hips up but manages to keep a somewhat neutral expression on his face.

“Oh my god,” Vicki says in realization.

“Well. Um. I better go.”

“You think?” she asks with an amused laugh. “So I guess you figured out…?”

“Hmm? Oh! Right. Um. Working on it, ‘kay, love you, bye!”

He tosses the phone across the couch, sinks down lower, and runs his hand through Jensen’s hair.

“I get the feeling you’ve—ah—done this before.”

Jensen hums around his cock.

It takes a few minutes for Misha to stop thinking and just enjoy what's going on. It's just surprising, is all. He imagined that he’d have to pull teeth to get Jensen to do anything remotely sexual with him, that it’d be a grueling, months-long process that would culminate in an unsatisfying but much needed orgasm. Instead, Jensen decides to go straight for mouth on dick? While Misha is Facetiming with his wife and newborn baby? What the fuck is going on.

After about 15 minutes, Misha feels so relaxed that he’s pretty sure he could fall asleep with Jensen’s lips wrapped around his shaft. Just as he’s thinking of doing exactly that, the heat of Jensen’s mouth disappears and Misha feels cheated.

“How long’s it take you to come?” Jensen asks while wiping at his mouth.

“Um, I usually don’t come from just a blowjob.”

“What?”

“I’m used to, um, more stimulation.”

“So you were just gonna let me suck your dick all night?”

Misha shrugs and nods.

Jensen rolls his eyes and dives back down.

Misha wants to laugh, but then Jensen is doing things that are getting him really close really suddenly.

“Holy fu—how are you—what are you—”

His stomach muscles tighten, release, tighten, release, and he throws his head back against the couch and runs a distressed hand through his hair. Jensen is working so hard with mouth and hand that the pressure is almost painful, but it’s obviously working because Misha’s toes are curling and his whole body is tense and—

Somehow, Jensen times it perfectly and gets his mouth out of the way as Misha comes all over himself.

Misha keeps his eyes tightly shut as he tries to come down. He doesn’t want to see what Jensen’s face looks like post-blowie because he’s not sure his poor gay heart can take it.

“Well, uh. I’m gonna head out,” Jensen says awkwardly, his voice a little huskier than usual.

Misha finally opens his eyes and regrets it immediately. Jensen’s lips are puffy and his skin is all pink and chafed around his mouth. This is exactly why I don’t groom down there, Misha thinks smugly.

Lost in thought, Misha moves forward and kisses Jensen hard.

Jensen pulls away with a laugh.

“What?” Misha asks self-consciously.

“You like the taste of yourself?”

Heat rises to Misha’s cheeks. “No! I just…”

“It’s OK, I’m just realizing that I have a type.” He kisses his forehead before standing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Misha follows him to the door, ignoring the way his pants get caught around his thighs when he walks. “You don’t want me to—”

“I’m good, Mish.” He winks and leaves.

He calls Vicki back, tries to explain that he really did keep his end of the deal—he just figured everything out faster than he expected. She laughs and laughs.

Work feels fundamentally different after that night. Misha doesn’t realize it until he’s heading toward Jensen and Jared in the craft services tent to eat breakfast one morning and it hits him that Jared probably doesn’t know anything yet. Nobody really knows anything. People of course have their suspicions, but at what point are Jensen and Misha supposed to confirm those suspicions? Should Misha stand up and announce that Jensen sucked his dick? Would that be weird?

“Morning,” Misha greets as he takes a seat next to Jared.

Jensen winks at him in response.

“Misha, do you think all outlet malls are outdoors?” Jared asks around a mouthful of omelet.

“What?”

“Outlet malls. Aren’t they called outlet malls because they’re outside?”

Misha stares at him as he tries to figure out if he’s going to end up being the butt of a joke. “You’re not serious, are you?” he eventually asks.

“I told you!” Jensen exclaims with a pointed finger at Jared.

“He didn’t confirm anything!” Jared shouts back.

“Outlet malls mean the stores are cheaper, Jay-rod,” Jensen explains, and it sounds like it’s not the first time he’s said this today. “Outlet stores. Cheap clothes. Any type of mall can be indoors or outdoors.”

“No! That is completely incorr—”

“Jensen’s right,” Misha says quietly.

Jensen and Jared both start yelling over each other—Jared angry and Jensen smug. Misha thinks they might be OK. Nothing’s really changed.

Except, they all get up at the same time but Jared walks ahead of Jensen and Misha. And Jensen presses up against Misha and discreetly pinches his ass.

“Come to my trailer at lunch,” Jensen whispers right against his ear. He then disappears.

Misha scratches his ear.

It’s a slow morning, but at least there’s no ADR to do. Misha’s supposed to film a fight scene, but his stunt double does most of the work for him. He’s only needed for the close-ups, so he spends most of his day sitting in a director’s chair waiting to be called.

At lunch, he goes back to his own trailer and calls his wife.

That night as he’s leaving, Jensen catches up to him and walks with him to his car.

“What happened today?”

Oh, god. He sounds cute and sad.

“I had to call my wife. I just had a kid, Jensen.”

“Right. I wasn’t—of course that’s priority. That—yeah. It makes sense. I don’t know why I…”

Misha stops walking so he can turn in front of Jensen and really look at him. “I should've texted you. I'm just—I miss my kid, that's all. It has nothing to do with you." Except it does, and Misha is lying. 

“Hey, no.” Jensen grabs his shoulder and squeezes it affectionately. “You don’t have to worry about reassuring me. You’ve got enough on your plate. C’mere.”

He doesn’t really give Misha a choice as he gathers him in his arms. Jensen is warm and solid, and Misha melts into him shamelessly. They’re both wearing heavy jackets, which Misha regrets. Despite the fact that it’s ridiculously cold outside, he wishes he could be closer to his friend.

Jensen kisses the top of his head before letting him go. As soon as they’re separated, however, he leans in and gives Misha a chaste kiss on the lips.

Misha looks around warily.

“There’s nobody here, Mish. We’re good.”

Misha squints at him. “Why am I more worried about this than you are?”

“The hell are you talking about? I’ve always been really cool about all of this.” He doesn’t even make it through the full sentence without laughing.

“Right,” Misha responds with a soft smile.

Then they just sort of smile at each other for a few seconds.

“Good night, Jensen.”

“Night, Mish.”

The next day, Jensen doesn’t invite Misha to his trailer at lunch but Misha shows up anyway.

“Mish? What are you—”

Misha cuts him off with a bruising kiss. He kicks the door closed behind him, grabs Jensen by the lapels and shoves him up against a wall.

“Whoa, hey, hey, costume,” Jensen chastises as he pushes Misha away. “We should take them off.”

Misha grins.

They make quick, dirty work of it. Dean’s green jacket and flannel get tossed in a pile with Castiel’s trench and giant button-down shirt. Their pants only make it so far as their ankles before they’re on each other again. They only have 30 minutes; that’s the excuse Misha’s sticking with.

“Your stupid orange underwear,” Jensen says angrily, right into Misha’s mouth.

They fall gracelessly onto the couch together, which slows things down for a bit. They take their time kissing, but then Jensen makes an obscene noise in the back of his throat and Misha immediately reaches down and grabs his cock in response.

As Misha works his hand around Jensen’s shaft, he involuntarily shakes his head.

“What?” Jensen asks self-consciously. He looks up at Misha in concern.

“I guess it makes sense that someone as good-looking as you would also be hung like a goddamn horse.”

Jensen lets out a boisterous laugh, shaking the whole couch in the process. “You jealous?”

He puts a lot more pressure on. “Not even a little bit. As long as I get to touch it.”

Jensen grunts in response.

Just as Misha is repositioning himself to get his mouth around Jensen’s huge cock, there’s a knock on the door.

They both freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes.

“Stack, you in there?” Jared asks.

As Misha furiously shakes his head, Jensen answers, “Yeah, give me a minute.”

Misha drops his head to Jensen’s chest in frustration. There’s no time for that, though, so Jensen shoves him off of him so they can both get their asses into some clothes. It’s even quicker and dirtier than taking all of it off five minutes ago.

When Jensen finally goes to unlock the door, Misha positions himself in the armchair, turns on the TV and tries to look as natural as possible.

It isn’t until the door is already open that Misha realizes he’s wearing a flannel shirt. Which means Jensen—

“What’s with your shirt?” Jared asks Jensen with a laugh. “What’s up, Misha,” he greets as he flops down on the couch.

The couch they were just about to have sex on.

“I, uh, must’ve grabbed the wrong one,” Jensen explains as he takes off the giant white button-down and pulls a t-shirt on instead. He makes a yikes face at Misha.

“And didn’t notice? You’re getting old.”

Jensen goes to the kitchen and downs an entire bottle of water. Misha stifles a laugh as he watches him.

“Wait, isn’t that Jay’s shirt?” Jared asks, pointing at Misha. “Y’all get your laundry mixed up?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jensen replies flippantly. “Madden before we have to go back?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Misha politely watches them play for the next 10 minutes even though he’s probably overstaying his welcome. Then again, Jensen decided to sit on the floor in front of the armchair, and he keeps scooting back until he’s nestled between Misha’s legs. Misha gives him a shoulder rub while he plays, leans down and kisses his neck a few times, bites his earlobe. While Jared yells about something happening in the game, Misha whispers, “Come over tonight.”

Jared notices nothing.

When Jensen shows up at Misha’s apartment that night, they don’t pick up where they left off.

Instead, they lie next to each other on top of the covers of his bed and talk.

“How much does Jared know?” Misha asks after they’ve rehashed how ridiculous the afternoon was.

“Nothing,” Jensen answers honestly. “I don’t think he’d ever suspect that I’m…you know?”

“He caught us in a pretty compromising position today. You really don’t think it even crossed his mind?”

“No, I really don’t. We’re married, dude. To most people, that means, you know, monogamy. Heterosexuality. Not sleeping with your coworker.”

“But you don’t plan on telling him?”

Jensen flips over to his side and squeezes Misha’s knee. “What’s there to tell?”

Something sinks in Misha’s gut. “Um. Don’t you think—”

“I mean, it’s not like you and me are a, uh, a couple. We’re not—we don’t—you know?”

Misha blinks at him. “Yeah. No. You’re right. There’s not really anything to talk about.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a long time. The air conditioning kicks on, which Misha takes as his cue to get up.

“Where you going?”

“I was thinking about going to bed. It’s getting kind of late.”

“You alright?”

Misha runs a hand through his hair. When he looks over at Jensen, he finds him propped back on his elbows staring hopefully up at him. “I’m good. You can stay, if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, why not.” Misha goes to his dresser and pulls out a couple of t-shirts.

“Wow. I feel so loved.”

Misha looks up from the drawer and raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Loved, huh?” He throws a t-shirt at Jensen’s face. “I thought we weren’t a couple.”

“Oh, I get to wear your clothes now?” he teases even as he takes his overshirt off.

Misha swallows a lump in his throat as he watches Jensen pull his shirt over his head. His shirt. It’s not a big deal. “I don’t have an extra toothbrush.”

Jensen ducks his head and laughs.

“What?” Misha asks as he heads toward the bathroom.

“Nothing.”

Jensen doesn’t make any move to get ready for bed, so Misha takes his time in the bathroom and expects to find Jensen asleep when he comes out.

Instead, he’s tucked underneath the covers tapping away on his phone.

When Misha crawls into bed next to him, Jensen immediately hauls him in by the back of his neck and kisses him. He rolls his tongue all around the inside of his mouth before pulling back.

“There. Teeth brushed,” Jensen declares.

“Oh my god.”

He giggles.

As Misha settles against the pillows, Jensen gets up and heads toward the bathroom. When he comes back two minutes later, Misha is already half-asleep. Jensen scoots himself back up against Misha’s front, so Misha wraps his arm around his midsection. He lazily pushes his hand up under Jensen’s—his—t-shirt and rubs his belly. He could sneak under the waistband of his boxer briefs, but he’s too tired.

“So, is Jared buff because he wants to be?”

“What?” Jensen asks.

Misha pinches a bit of his belly between his thumb and index finger. “I always assume actors are ripped because of a role, but the fact that he’s ripped and you’re not makes it seem like he—”

“Hey. I’m stronger than him.”

In a patronizing tone, Misha responds, “Oh, I’m sure you are, honey.”

Jensen squirms and bats at his hand. “I ain’t doing crunches. If they want me shirtless, they can deal with what I’ve got.”

“How poetic of you.”

“Hey, it’s not like you’re some Adonis.”

Misha kisses the shell of his ear. “I like how soft you are.”

“Wow, yeah, that makes me feel better about myself.” His sentence trails off lamely at the end as he relaxes under Misha’s ministrations.

So Misha continues pressing his hand to the soft skin of his belly and hip, and Jensen makes content noises as if he really does feel better about himself. It’s all just a little too domestic, a little too intimate, and Misha finds that he can't fall asleep because he doesn't want to stop touching Jensen. So he sneaks his fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly brings Jensen to hardness. 

"Mmm," Jensen hums happily as he reaches a hand back behind Misha's head and yanks him closer.

Misha buries his face in his shoulder and kisses his neck. "Turn over," he whispers.

Jensen is quick to comply, and even quicker to search for Misha's mouth in the dark and kiss him earnestly. Misha's hand is still wrapped around his cock, so Jensen bucks his hips up presumably in search of better leverage. Misha laughs into his mouth and calls him needy, to which Jensen angrily tugs his ear. 

They should move into better, less juvenile territory, but there's still a small seed of doubt in the back of Misha's brain telling him it's not a good idea. He doesn't want to freak Jensen out. They're in a bubble right now, and one small prod might burst the whole thing and bring them back to reality. Sexless reality. He keeps kissing him and keeps kissing him because if his mouth isn't occupied then it's going to blurt out how badly he wants to fuck him. 

"Mish," Jensen breathes. "More. Please. More."

He can pretend like there isn't lube in the nightstand. That he ran out of condoms. He throws the covers back and ducks down to take Jensen in his mouth. Jensen groans and squirms, obviously wanting more, but Misha can't. Not now. Not yet. 

There's not much time for rumination before come hits the back of Misha's throat. He's so distracted by the lovely noises Jensen makes that he doesn't think twice before swallowing. He hollows his cheeks out a couple more times just to see Jensen's whole body twitch. Then he presses one last kiss to the tip of his cock and crawls back up the bed, bringing the covers with him.

Jensen is breathing heavily and looking up at the ceiling. He gropes for Misha and pulls him against his side. Misha laughs and presses a sloppy kiss to his pec. 

"Do you...want me to..." Jensen tries to ask, but he sounds so spent that it barely comes out.

"Go to sleep, Jensen," Misha responds, still laughing.

In the morning, Jensen wakes up an hour before Misha’s alarm is set to go off. He slips out of bed and tiptoes around quietly, but Misha’s mostly awake anyway so it doesn’t matter.

Just as he thinks Jensen is going to sneak out without saying anything, he walks over to Misha’s side of the bed and sits on the edge. He leans over sideways, resting his arm on the other side of Misha so he’s trapped in his hold.

“You awake?” Jensen whispers sweetly.

Misha nods without opening his eyes.

With a soft laugh, Jensen leans down and kisses him languidly. Misha’s awake enough to feel embarrassed about his morning breath, but not awake enough to stop himself from throwing his arms around Jensen’s back and pulling him down for a tight squeeze.

“I’ll see you at work, OK?” Jensen says while still laughing.

“Mm.”

“Bye, Misha.”

“Bye, baby.”

Chapter Text

The garbage disposal isn’t working. Misha could probably fix it himself, but it's currently really low on his list of priorities. Maybe he could ask Jensen to take a look at it while he's over. No, fuck, he can do it himself. 

“You OK?”

Misha jumps at the sound but tries to laugh it off as Jensen slides up next to him.

Jensen pats him on the back a couple of times. “Seriously, you OK?”

“Yeah. What’s up, you need something?”

Jensen shrugs. “Nope. Just wanted to check on you.” He looks over his shoulder toward the living room, where Jared and Vicki’s voices are drifting through. “Jared’s hogging the baby anyway.” He presses his hand to Misha’s lower back and rubs it gently.

It feels amazing. “More pressure, please.”

Jensen laughs, complies, then moves directly behind Misha and puts his hands on his hips so he can dig his thumbs into the knots at the base of his back.

“Jesus,” Misha breathes. He has to grab the edge of the counter to stay upright.

Jensen hooks his chin over his shoulder and hums.

Jared’s laugh carries in from the living room. Neither of them move.

“I have to finish making dinner,” Misha whispers. “But we can, um, continue this later after Jared leaves.”

“Are you inviting me to stay over?”

The back door opens. Jensen steps away from Misha gracelessly.

“They didn’t have any cilantro, Misha,” Danneel says as she sets grocery bags on the counter. “But we got everything else.”

“That’s OK, I think we can manage without it,” Misha replies as he sorts through the bags.

Genevieve has two handfuls of bags as well, so all four of them navigate around each other as they put groceries away. Misha thanks the women profusely for going to the store for them. Vicki hates doing it with West. 

It was a nice idea, having everybody over for a long weekend. It definitely made it easy for them all to meet the baby and stop complaining to Misha and Vicki that West is going to be a teenager before they get to see him. However, Misha’s house is not spacious enough to accommodate four extra people, so he forced Jared and Jensen to book a hotel nearby.

Jensen didn’t bother.

“Hey, Gen, come here!” Jared yells.

Gen excuses herself from the kitchen, leaving Misha, Danneel and Jensen moving around each other in awkward silence for a solid 30 seconds.

“So,” Danneel starts enthusiastically. “Where am I sleeping tonight?”

Jensen clears his throat.

“You two are welcome to the guest bedroom, but don’t tell Jared,” Misha says in a low tone. “Of course, you don’t have to—”

“Can we put the crib in our room?” Jensen asks.

“What?”

“You’ve got bottles, right?” He looks at Danneel as he says, “You and Vicki deserve a good night’s rest together.”

Misha suddenly can’t speak. Tons of people have stayed over and helped them with West, but nobody’s gone to the lengths that Jensen and Danneel have. Jensen’s changed every diaper in the past 12 hours, fixed every crying fit, diligently babysat while Misha and Vicki got things done that they haven’t had time to get done in the past couple of months. Misha hasn’t had to ask for anything.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Misha says, his voice thick.

Danneel shrugs. “We want to. It’ll be good practice for us.”

“Whoa, hey, don’t go there,” Jensen responds with a pinch to Danneel’s ass. “I’m hoping this will make you want to put the brakes on.”

Danneel deliberately makes eye contact with Misha before rolling her eyes. They both know Jensen’s full of shit.

“I’ll have to ask Vicki how she feels about it,” Misha says. “But thank you. Seriously.”

Jensen winks at him. “It’s no problem, Mish.”

As they eat dinner, Jared insists that everybody else eat while he holds West. They try to explain to him that he can put West in his rocker and let him sleep, but he doesn’t listen. Maybe the reason why Jensen keeps offering to change diapers is because it’s the only time Jared lets anybody else hold West.

They talk about literally nothing but West at the dinner table. Misha thought he'd be bored by now, considering West is still in the newborn phase and there's not really much to talk about past the color of his eyes and how much hair he has. But it never gets old; he could talk about him for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy. 

Danneel, Gen and Vicki get into a long discussion about the merits of having boys versus girls, and Misha nearly nods off into his plate. A socked foot runs up his shin. He looks up at Jensen and smiles gently at him.

Jensen winks again.

“What do y’all think of nannies?” Gen asks when there’s a lull in the conversation. “I mean, Vicki, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone around when Misha isn’t here?”

Vicki looks pointedly at Misha. “Honestly, at this point it would be superfluous to have a nanny. We're trying to fit West into our lives instead of changing how we live in order to accommodate him. Why would we need a nanny when we can just bring West with us wherever we go?"

There's an extremely awkward pause as Gen stares at Vicki.

Finally, Danneel responds, "But your lives have already changed a lot, haven't they? You said you hadn't gone to the grocery store in a couple weeks."

"But I'm still doing everything I would be doing without a kid, but with a kid," Vicki reasons. "It's been OK so far. I honestly just hate going to the store."

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have more people, though?” Gen asks again, getting back to the point. “More people around to help. You know, so you can keep doing what you want to do while somebody watches West.”

“Children really are a good excuse to be polyamorous,” Vicki says offhandedly.

Jensen nearly spits his wine. His foot slips away from Misha’s leg.

“You OK, sweetie?” Danneel asks smugly. She looks at Misha knowingly.

“What the hell does polyamorous mean?” Jared asks as he sets West in the rocker and joins them at the table.

Misha kicks back in his chair, wine glass in hand. “That’s a conversation you’re not ready for yet, Jared.”

Jared frowns at him. “Poly—is it like polygamy? Are y’all Mormons?”

“Yes. I mean no.  More people around to take care of a kid,” Vicki explains again. She picks up her empty plate and stands. “Do we have dessert?”

Misha hops to his feet as well. “Yeah, I’ll get it.” He looks straight at Jensen. “Baby, will you help me?”

Jensen’s eyes widen. Danneel downs her wine. Everything just kind of stops for a second. West sneezes.

“I must be fucking tired,” Misha corrects, not quickly enough. “You’re not my wife.” He looks across the table at Vicki. “Babe. Will you help me?”

The two of them hurry to the kitchen. Misha’s heart is pounding in his chest, and he tries not to overhear whatever explanation Jensen and Danneel are spinning in the dining room.

“Way to go, hotshot,” Vicki teases once they’re alone.

“The worst part is that I’ve only ever called him that accidentally.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean it’s not a pet name we decided on. I just—I said it one day. And then another day. And now I’ve said it a third time.” He puts two chocolate-covered strawberries on a small plate. “Like a fucking idiot.”

Vicki snorts back a laugh. “Wait, how did he respond?”

“He, um, didn’t.”

She openly laughs. “Holy shit. You guys are dumb.”

Misha grumbles all the way back out to the dining room, chocolate-covered strawberries in hand. Jared comments on the fanciness of the meal. Gen tells him to slow down on the wine since they have to drive to a hotel in a few minutes.

“When are y’all leaving?” Jared asks Jensen and Danneel.

They look at each other. They turn back to Jared. They both start talking at the same time.

Jensen stops first and lets Danneel take it. He shoves an entire strawberry in his mouth.

“Vicki wanted to show me a paper she’s working on, so Jay is gonna watch West while we, uh, do that.”

“Oh, really? What’s the paper about?” Gen asks.

“Does anyone want coffee?” Misha interrupts.

Vicki gets up to breastfeed West.

Jensen scoots his chair closer to Misha. Close enough that their shoulders are touching. “We’re not very good at this.”

Misha watches Gen and Danneel talk quietly about something. Probably about Vicki’s fake paper. “Mm,” he confirms.

“If we need to pretend to leave, we can.” He picks up his wine but then immediately puts it back down. “I should probably sober up first.”

Misha tilts his head over until it bumps against Jensen’s. “Please stop talking like we’re in a romcom.”

Jensen rests his arm along the back of Misha’s chair. He very lightly tickles his back. “You’re the one who called me ‘baby’ in front of—”

“Please. Stop.”

With a laugh, Jensen replies, “Why’d you start calling me that anyway?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“I like it.”

Misha gives him a skeptical look. He leans back a little once he realizes how close their proximity is. See freckles? Too close.

“I think it’s cute. You’re cute,” Jensen continues.

“Ugh, god, who are you?”

“I’m ‘baby’ apparently.”

Misha can’t take anymore. He gathers their plates and heads back toward the kitchen. He can hear Jensen laughing behind him, but he doesn’t acknowledge him. This is almost more exhausting than taking care of his newborn child.

As he’s doing dishes, Misha hears Gen and Jared saying their goodbyes, so he dries his hands and hurries back into the living room.

“West is perfect, buddy,” Jared says sincerely as he wraps Misha up in a tight hug. “You’re so lucky.”

“Thank you. That’s—weirdly sweet of you.”

“Hey, I can be nice,” Jared replies with a slap to Misha’s shoulder.

Gen hugs him next and tells him they’re welcome at her home anytime and that she can help with West if they ever decide two people isn’t enough to take care of a child.

Misha feels warm after they leave, confident in their friendship in a way he’s not sure he’s ever felt with Jared. He doesn’t dwell on it too much.

After he locks the door and turns out the lights in the hallway, he heads back into the living room to find Jensen alone, sitting in an armchair, with West asleep in his arms.

Misha stands frozen in the threshold for a second just staring. Jensen is looking down at West with wide, excited eyes, and he’s got his arms wrapped around every inch of him, his hands big and secure and safe. He presses a kiss to West’s forehead.

“You’re good with him,” Misha whispers.

Jensen looks up sharply, but he smiles brightly when they make eye contact. “I love him.”

“I do, too.” He crosses the room and sits on the couch adjacent to the armchair.

“He’s perfect, you know. I fell in love with him the second I saw him.”

“You’re not gonna kidnap my kid, are you?”

“I want one.” He looks up at Misha again, his eyes a little shiny. “Danneel jokes, but it’s her that’s not ready yet. I want one so bad, dude.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“You’re very easy to read, baby.”

Jensen’s face splits into a grin. “Should I call you sweetheart? I feel like I should.”

“Only in front of Jared.”

Danneel appears then in a pair of paisley pink pajama pants and one of Jensen’s t-shirts. “Vicki’s in bed already. We moved the crib so y’all don’t have to worry about it.”

“You ready for bed, honey?” Jensen asks.

Danneel nods and holds her arms out for the baby. Jensen looks reluctant to give him up, but eventually he does.

“Don’t feed him at every noise he makes. If it’s just a whimper, it’s not—”

“Vicki told us,” Jensen says at the same time Danneel says, “Vicki went over everything already.”

Misha gives them a thumbs up. “OK. Goodnight, then.”

He starts to walk away, but Jensen grabs him by the elbow.

“Hey.”

As soon as Misha turns toward him, Jensen kisses him sweetly on the lips. He pulls back and scans Misha’s face and then kisses him again, not so sweetly.

“Alright, OK,” Danneel says, breaking them up. “Get a room some other night.”

Jensen presses one more kiss to Misha’s forehead before following his wife to their room.

Vicki’s not asleep when Misha crawls into bed next to her. She’s sitting up with a book in her hands, so Misha turns toward her and rests his head on her stomach. He slides his arm across her hips to be closer to her. Her hand drops around his back.

“Are you disappointed?” she asks.

“Hmm?”

“I figured you’d want to sleep with him tonight.”

“Are you kidding me? I see him every day.” He squeezes her side. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a month.”

“If you’re trying to get me to have sex with you, it’s not happening.”

“I’m still picturing your vagina as a baby canal, so don’t worry about that.”

“And you’ve had plenty of sex lately, right?” she teases.

“Yeah. I’m drowning in dick.”

“How is it going with him? Really.”

Misha buries his face between her boobs. “Can we not talk about him? Just for, like, five minutes,” he mumbles into her shirt.

Vicki laughs lightly. “OK. Sleep?”

“Mm-hmm.”

They get a full eight hours. When they get up in the morning, Jensen is making breakfast while Danneel plays with West.

Misha thinks Gen might have a point. Having more people around to take care of a child is a great idea.

A few days after Jared and Jensen go back up to Vancouver and leave Misha alone with his wife and kid, Misha receives a text from Jensen that doesn’t make any sense.

Can you believe they’re actually doing this?

You got the call, right?

As Misha wracks his brain for clues as to what Jensen’s talking about, his phone rings.

“Hey, Misha, how’s it going?”

“I’m good, Ben, how ‘bout you?” Misha replies formally, while privately hoping that the punchline comes fast. Ben Edlund doesn’t just call out of the blue.

“Yeah, uh, just working on a concept, thought I’d run it by you.”

“What?”

Ben laughs into the phone. “Jensen said the same thing. In the back half of the season we’re planning some meta stuff, and I have this idea for an episode that I’m running by everybody before I commit to it.”

“Sounds particularly ominous.”

“Yeah, yeah, so Sam and Dean will be transported to a universe in which they are Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who play Sam and Dean Winchester on a television show called Supernatural.”

Misha doesn’t say anything.

“So you would be playing yourself in the episode, but an exaggerated, fictional version of course.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

“Good. I’m taking your silence as praise for my brilliant idea, so I’m just gonna—”

“Jared and Jensen would be playing Sam and Dean, but in our universe? So I’d be the only one playing myself?”

“No, Genevieve’s on board for it, too. We’re using a real picture of their wedding in the episode. Jared already scanned it over to props.”

“Of course he did.” Misha moves his phone to his other ear. “Has Gamble approved this? And Singer?”

“I pitched it in a production meeting months ago, and nobody’s stopped me yet. You still haven’t answered my question. Would you be OK with playing a caricature of yourself?”

“I thought you said my silence was consent, which, by the way, you and I should probably get together sometime so I can teach you how dangerous that line of thin—”

“I actually don’t even need your go-ahead to do it, I’m just a nice enough person to mention it before the script is in your hands.”

“What did Jensen say?”

“What?”

Heat rises to Misha’s cheeks. “He text—he just seems like, if anybody was going to be opposed to the idea, it would be him.”

“You’re not wrong. He took some convincing. I did not tell him about the part where Sam finds clips of Days of Our Lives.”

“You should leave it out of the script, too. See how he improvises.”

“You’re more evil than I am.” He huffs a laugh. “Thanks for your consent, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Hey, be sure to make me a real asshole, alright?”

“Already on it. Later, Misha.”

After they hang up, Misha texts Jensen back.

Just got off the phone with Edlund. Sounds fun.

Sounds fun??? It’s gonna be mortifying.

C’mon, J, lighten up a little.

No.

Vicki comes into the living room with a sleeping baby, whom she passes off to Misha.

“Who were you on the phone with?” she asks as she takes a seat on the couch.

“Ben Edlund. He’s writing a really weird episode and was nice enough to tell us all about it before it’s slated.”

“First time that’s ever happened.”

It’s hard to type with a sleeping baby in his arms, but Misha does it anyway. I should’ve told Edlund to include a rumor in the episode that two of the stars of the show are banging each other.

What? Who? I’m certainly not banging anyone.

Hey, I give great head.

“Yeah, for a second I thought he was going to tell me that they’re killing off Cas.”

“Wouldn’t Sera call for that?”

“Yeah, but I don’t even want to think about it.”

Yeah. HEAD. As in, not ass. Ergo, not banging.

“You’re obviously not thinking about it, since you’re laughing,” Vicki says. “Who are you texting?”

“Who do you think?”

Ergo somebody obviously didn’t listen in junior high sex ed. All physical activity involving genitalia is banging.

I don’t wanna do this episode.

Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about it until February.

Vicki sighs and goes to the kitchen.

When Misha gets back to work, he’s so horny he can’t think straight. West is a little less than two months’ old, which means he and Vicki haven’t had sex in at least six weeks. And if he uses Jensen’s definition of sex, then he’s really never had sex with Jensen so it’s been a long fucking time and he really feels like getting fucked.

Jensen apparently has a much busier day than Misha because by lunch they still haven’t seen each other. Throwing caution to the wind, Misha walks over to stage two (and only looks over his shoulder a handful of times) and parks himself in a director’s chair to watch the scene Jensen and Jared are filming.

A couple of the crewmembers give Misha confused looks, but he just crosses his legs and drinks his coffee and watches Jensen’s every movement. It takes Jensen about 10 seconds to notice him. He gives Misha a small wave between takes, which then of course makes Jared turn and shout, “What the hell are you doing here, Misha?”

“Voyeurism, Jared. Get back to work.”

Jensen fights a smile and avoids making eye contact with anyone until the scene starts again.

Watching actors act on a show he spends his entire life doing isn’t exactly as fun as Misha thought it would be, so he ends up heading to wardrobe after just a few minutes. He wishes they would call 10 so he can tell Jensen to meet him in his trailer later, but he figures just being there was enough of a clue.

When the knock sounds later that afternoon, he mentally pats himself on the back.

“Hi, Jensen.”

“Hi, Misha,” Jensen imitates as he steps inside. “So, did you do any actual work today or you just on call to be a voyeur?”

“You spent all day waiting to say that to me, didn’t you?”

“Pick up any acting tips? I’m surprised you weren’t taking notes on my performance.”

“Shut up,” Misha says with a laugh as he closes the distance between them and presses their lips together.

Jensen makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and then chases Misha’s mouth when he tries to pull away. Once they’re done, he asks, “Onions?”

Misha pushes his way out of Jensen’s arms so he can sit on the couch. “Oh. Yeah. I had a philly cheesesteak for lunch.”

“Sexy.”

“I always try to be when I’m performing everyday functions to sustain life.”

“What’s up?”

Misha looks up at him and shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jensen crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re in a bad mood.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Well, nobody asked you.”

Jensen deflates a little. “OK. Um. I gotta...I’ll see you later? When you’re not—when you feel better.” He bends down and wraps a strong hand behind Misha’s neck so he can kiss his forehead.

Misha closes his eyes and leans forward, but Jensen’s already gone. 

The next day, Misha’s ready to stab the first person who asks him what’s wrong. Lucky for everybody else, nobody notices his bad mood—or cares enough—so he’s able to sulk around in peace. Jensen avoids him.

On day three, he sits with Jensen at breakfast and feels absolutely terrible when Jensen eyes him nervously.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Misha begins. “I think I just miss my family. West is starting to realize that he’s alive, and I’m missing it.”

Jensen moves his hand toward Misha’s but then quickly aborts the movement and looks around the craft services tent. “Let me know if I can help in any way. You don’t have to keep this stuff from me, you know.”

“We’re not dating.”

Jensen half-rolls his eyes, like his patience is wearing thin but holding on. “We’re friends, dude. Friends can talk.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Still being a dick.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They eat the remainder of their breakfast in relative silence.

After lunch, they film a scene in a hotel room with more cameras than they ever have in hotel rooms. The second A.D. explains that the director is “trying something different,” which never means anything good.

It takes forever to set up each shot, so after they’ve gotten through four lines of dialogue in 30 minutes, Jensen lies on the bed and pulls out his phone. Misha glares at him, but Jensen just shrugs and keeps scrolling.

Forty-five minutes in, Jared stops goofing off and adopts a really serious demeanor.

“You OK, Jay-rod?” Jensen asks from the bed.

“I’m so tired,” he responds lamely.

“We haven’t even been here for an hour,” Misha says.

“Exactly. It feels like we’ve been here 12.”

“Boo-hoo,” Jensen teases.

Jared sighs loudly and then does a perfect take. They move exclusively over to Jared’s coverage, so Misha takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

Jensen pulls his phone away from his face and raises an eyebrow at Misha, so Misha shrugs and winks. He pulls out his own phone and ignores Jensen when he knocks the side of his leg against his back. He does lean into it, just a little bit.

Jared’s coverage seems to go on for yet another 12 hours, so Misha decides he’s had enough and tells Jensen to scoot over.

Jensen looks confused until Misha lies down on his stomach next to him. Jensen huffs his annoyance and very pointedly pinches Misha’s hip.

“What the fuck are y’all doing?” Jared asks when he notices them.

Misha says, “Fucking,” at the same time Jensen says, “Nothing.”

“O...K,” Jared answers awkwardly.

Jensen and Misha keep staring at their phones.

Misha’s fairly sure Jared snaps a picture of them, but he pretends like he doesn’t notice.

When they’re finally done for the day, they barely even say anything to each other before getting the hell off set. Even as horny as he is, Misha is too damn tired to want to do anything other than go home and go to sleep.

On day four, they have to deal with yet another excruciatingly boring series of shots. At the end of the day, he goes back to his trailer and makes it as far as taking his trench coat and tie off before flopping onto the couch.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself as he undoes his fly and reaches his hand in his pants to jerk off. He’s so tired.

Just as he’s painting a very nice picture of an aggressive Jensen slamming into him doggy-style, there’s a knock on his door.

Misha freezes, considers ignoring it and finishing himself off, then sighs and buttons his pants back up.

“Hi, Jensen,” he says flatly as he opens the door.

“Still in a bad mood?”

“No, you just...Nothing, don’t worry about it. Beer?”

“No, I’m good.” Jensen sits on the couch. “This director’s never being asked back.”

“Let’s hope not.”

Misha sits on the opposite side of the couch as far away from Jensen as possible, but Jensen immediately lies down with his head pillowed on Misha’s thighs. Right next to his flagging boner. Cool.

“Jared was saying we should go out this weekend.”

“Hm.”

“Like, the three of us.”

“Do you really feel like doing that?”

“Not really, but I like doing things he wants to do.” Jensen shifts his head back and tenses. “Dude, are you hard?”

“Maybe.”

He sits up and pouts at Misha. “Why?”

Misha nervously rubs his hands down his thighs. “I was, uh…”

“Jesus, Mish. You could’ve said something.”

“Yeah, like that’s not—what are you doing.”

Jensen’s hands make swift work of Misha’s fly. Once he has his cock out, he throws a pillow on the floor and kneels on it.

“Jay, that’s not—you don’t have to—hng—mmm.”

Misha melts into the couch and grabs the back of Jensen’s head to keep him steady and probably because Misha has some control issues that he’s not going to worry about right now.

Jensen has one hand wrapped tightly around Misha’s calf and the other around his shaft, pressing the heel insistently down onto his balls. He’s sucking so forcefully that it starts feeling painful once Misha’s close. It’s not going to be a fun orgasm, but he’s so exhausted at this point that he doesn’t care.

“Mmm,” Misha says stupidly. “That’s it, baby. I’m close.” He pulses his hips up and down, which Jensen responds to enthusiastically.

Just as he’s about to warn Jensen to get off, Jensen flips his tongue around his tip, and Misha shouts in surprise as he comes down the back of his throat. He feels Jensen swallow twice before he pops off and sits back on his heels with a particularly smug look on his stupidly handsome face.

Misha runs his hand through Jensen’s hair as he catches his breath. 

“Better?” Jensen asks sheepishly.

Misha nods and leans down to kiss the smugness off Jensen’s face. He tries to yank him up into his lap, but the angle is awkward and so Jensen just crawls up himself. Misha gets two handfuls of his bony ass as they kiss, which isn’t nearly as sexy as when he does this with Vicki but it’ll have to do.

Jensen bites his bottom lip and shoves his tongue far into his mouth, rendering Misha's own tongue pretty much useless. Apparently Jensen got the memo that Misha wants to be manhandled.

“Alona told everybody at a con,” Misha says between kisses, “that you taste like Jolly Ranchers.” He licks his way into Jensen’s mouth and then back out. “But I think you taste like my dick.”

Jensen snorts a laugh and drops his forehead to Misha’s shoulder while he composes himself.

“Sorry you had to swallow.”

“Wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“So you’ll be swallowing from now on?”

Jensen glares at him. “No.”

Misha smiles and kisses him sweetly, squeezes his ass a little. “Want me to get you off?”

Another kiss. “No, I know you’re good for it. Just kiss me, babe.”

“Babe, huh?” Misha mumbles with their lips still pressed together.

“Yeah, like you’re one to talk.”

“Touche.”

They kiss for about 10 minutes before it escalates and Misha ends up on his knees. He’s not complaining.

Things get a little out of hand after that night. Jensen pushes Misha into empty grip trucks and bathrooms to make out with him during breaks, which leaves Misha feeling a little bit lost for about an hour each time.

They exchange blowies in their trailers at lunch, after work, before work...Misha’s getting to the point where he can come on command.

On their day off, Misha goes to Jensen’s house with the intention of “going all the way,” (Misha laughed out loud at Jensen when he used that phrase), but neither of them are really in the mood so after some lazy kissing they end up falling asleep on top of Jensen’s covers and waking up late in the morning on opposite ends of the bed. They don’t talk about it.

After that day, though, things go back to a more normal pace. They don't worry so much about getting each other off at every opportunity. It’s nice.

During a particularly busy week of shoots, Misha barely sees Jensen for more than a couple of minutes at a time. They get no alone time whatsoever, and it’s the first time since this whole thing started that he realizes just how accustomed he’d become to Jensen being a constant in his life. Jensen’s affection, Jensen’s steady hold, Jensen’s laugh, Jensen’s huge—

“This is the worst week,” Jensen grumbles one morning as they head to wardrobe together. He’s chugging coffee like his life depends on it.

“Tough scenes?”

“What? No.” Jensen looks at him like he’s an idiot. “I miss you, dumbass.”

Misha’s first instinct is to make some stupid sarcastic remark about how romantic Jensen is, but instead he reaches out and squeezes his hip. Just once.

“Will you be in your trailer at lunch?” Jensen presses.

“Yep.”

“See you then,” Jensen mumbles as they climb up the steps of the wardrobe trailer.

They separate once inside and basically totally ignore each other the entire time they get fitted. Misha has no fucking clue how the they are supposed to act around other people, so they mainly just pay each other no mind. People would probably think they hate each other if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re always walking together and sitting together and doing things together separate from everybody else.

Which, come to think of it, probably makes it way more suspicious when they ignore each other.

Five minutes into lunch, Jensen walks right into Misha’s trailer without knocking. It’s really not necessary at this point.

Sometimes they just sit and talk or watch TV, but other times, like today, Jensen takes a seat right in Misha’s lap. He rolls his hips forward as he hauls Misha in for a kiss. It’s a lot all at once, but Misha’s learning how to cope.

Sometimes, like today, Jensen doesn’t say anything. He kisses like he’s desperate for it, but it’s also slow and languid in a particularly sexy way.

Misha grabs his ass and tries to force him closer, but he’s already about as close as he can get.

They kiss for a while, but then Jensen stops and tilts his head back, and Misha takes that as his cue to go for his neck. He flattens his tongue against it and opens his mouth wide. Jensen makes soft little noises in response.

As he keeps working on his neck, Misha fumbles with Jensen’s belt in an attempt to get a hand on his cock. It’s kind of embarrassing how many handjobs they’ve given each other, but it’s not like they have time for much else when they’re on set all day.

Just as he’s pulling Jensen’s cock out and rubbing his thumb over the head, there’s a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Misha asks before kissing Jensen’s neck again.

“It’s Sera.”

Misha and Jensen look at each other.

“Can I come in? I won’t take much of your time.”

Jensen eases his way out of Misha’s lap. Misha snaps his fingers and points toward the bathroom. Jensen rolls his eyes at him but stumbles off to the bathroom anyway.

“Yeah, just a second,” Misha replies as he flattens his hair and straightens himself out. He takes a deep breath before heading over to the door. “Hey, Sera, come on in,” he greets casually.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sera says as she steps inside. She looks around the room before settling her eyes on Misha. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Jensen holds his breath as he presses his ear up against the bathroom door. His pants are still kind of falling off, but that’s not really important right now.

“By the end of this season, Castiel will be a villain,” Sera explains.

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” Misha says bitterly.

Jensen feels the insane urge to go out there and curl his arm protectively around Misha’s shoulders.

“Then you’ll understand when season seven begins with your demise.”

Misha doesn’t say anything.

“Castiel will die at the end of the first episode.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

“You understand what this means?” Sera continues, an edge to her tone now.

“Yeah, I think I understand what it means to be out of a job, Sera.”

“Misha.”

“So, do you have a new contract for me to sign?”

“Not today. I wanted to tell you before it was final.”

“Why? Will it change anything if I ask you not to do it?”

She barely even hesitates. “No.”

“And this is it, right? I’ve died before, but this time it’s going to stick?”

She doesn’t say anything, so Jensen assumes that she’s nodding.

“Great,” Misha goes on. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“That’s why I wanted to come and tell you myself.”

“Let me ask you something, did I do anything wrong?”

Jensen’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean?” Sera asks quietly.

“I don’t know, did I piss somebody off and get myself fired? Or miss my mark one too many times? Waste too much footage?”

Sleep with the star of the show, Jensen thinks. If Misha was in a joking mood, that would definitely be a joke he’d make right now.

“No. No, of course not. We’re just—we’re taking the show in a different direction in season seven. You won’t be the only change we make.”

“Oh, good, well as long as other people get fucked over, too, then it’s fine.”

Jensen stifles a laugh.

“Misha, please. I need you to accept this decision.”

“You don’t need me to do anything. Was there anything else I need to know?”

“No. That was it. And, Misha, nobody knows about this. It would be in all of our best interest if you’d stay quiet about it for a while.”

“You mean with the fans?”

“I mean with everyone. The boys don’t need to know about this.”

“When do you plan on telling everyone?”

“When it becomes relevant.”

Jensen presses his fist against the door. “When it becomes relevant” means that they’re never going to mention it and everyone’s just going to read it in a script when it happens. At least, that’s what they did with everyone who was written out of the show in season five.

“OK. Well. Thanks for letting me know.”

There’s some shuffling, and when Sera speaks again she sounds farther away.

“We’ll have a contract sent to your agent soon.” She pauses. “I’m sorry, Misha.”

Misha mumbles something, the door clicks, Jensen holds his breath again.

He can hear Misha approaching the bathroom, so he cracks the door open before he gets there.

“C’mere,” Jensen says as he pulls Misha into his arms.

He rubs his back up and down, up and down, while Misha buries his face against his shoulder.

“It’s alright. You’re OK,” he soothes. “It sucks, but you’ll be OK.”

Misha mutters something indecipherable against his shirt.

“I didn’t catch that.”

Misha turns his head to the side. “What about West?”

Jensen’s hand freezes in the center of his back. “Sera can go fuck herself, honestly.”

That pulls a laugh out of Misha. He leans back and gives Jensen a kiss. “I have plenty of other projects I need to be working on anyway. Of course, none of them are profitable, but I’ll figure that out. I’m really good at being poor.”

“Dude, you’re not gonna be—”

“I know. Let’s just—I’d like to go back to work and not think about this.”

Jensen wraps an arm around his neck and kisses his temple. “Would it help if I came over tonight?”

“Mm.”

“Whenever we get off, I’m there. And, Mish. I’m sorry.”

Misha kisses him one last time before letting go and moving toward the door.

When they get back out to set, Jared asks them both who died. Neither of them come up with a witty response fast enough, so Jared freaks out.

“Oh god, somebody actually died, didn’t they?”

“No,” Misha answers quickly, waving him off. “We just didn’t use enough lube, so Jensen’s a little sore and he’s mad about it.”

Jensen could kill him. But when Misha looks over at him, he winks so arrogantly that Jensen busts out laughing.

“Ugh, get a room,” Jared replies as he walks away.

“We’re trying,” Misha mumbles.

Jensen elbows him. Once Jared’s gone, he says, “Dude.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me. You’re the one who can’t take it as a joke, which makes it obvious that there’s truth to it. Jared’s gonna find out eventually, you know.”

“No he’s not.”

“Really? You really think it’s possible to keep this from him forever?”

Jensen bounces his eyebrows. “Forever, huh?”

“I’ll bet you 200 bucks it takes him less than six months to notice.”

“Whoa, you don’t have that kind of money to blow.”

Misha laughs and shakes his head. “It’s too soon to be joking about this.”

“Maybe. Two hundred on him taking longer than a year.”

“That leaves six months of time where both of us could be wrong.”

“OK, then Jared wins. But we don’t tell him that, because I don’t want to give him $400.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it for a beat too long. They stare at each other in challenge, and just when Jensen thinks something stupid and public is about to happen, Misha pulls his hand away.

God, they’re fucked.

They’re split up for the remainder of the day, but Jensen gets a two-hour break in the evening so he decides to take a nap in his trailer. He’s sound asleep on his tiny bed that's tucked into its own tiny room when the door opens and suddenly Misha is there crawling up next to him in the cramped space.

“Mish, what are you—”

Misha cuts him off with a kiss. When he pulls away, he whispers, “I want to try something.”

“Um, OK.” Jensen scoots himself up so he’s not lying completely flat. “It can’t wait ‘til tonight?”

Misha shakes his head and kisses him again. “Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Jensen answers with a laugh and another kiss. “What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

Misha smirks at him and reaches for Jensen’s belt. He fumbles a bit in his excitement, so Jensen helps him get his pants down. Misha ignores Jensen’s cock completely, so Jensen grabs it himself just so that whatever they’re about to do doesn’t involve a flaccid dick. Misha throws his pants to the side and then reaches for Jensen’s shirt.

“Am I the only one getting naked here?” Jensen asks as the shirt joins the pants.

Misha doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, we’re not talking now, huh?”

Misha smiles and presses his lips to Jensen’s shoulder.

“Ah—OK. Shutting up.”

He kisses him all the way down his shoulder to his bicep before moving to his chest. Each kiss is thick and leaves a wet spot, so Jensen feels cool and shivery by the time Misha’s down to his hips.

Right before he reaches his cock, Misha says quietly, “Turn over.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Jensen obeys. Misha wastes no time as he grabs one shoulder and kisses the other. He moves agonizingly slowly down his back until finally he’s kissing his ass and Jensen’s heart is beating out of his chest and he’s holding his breath because he knows what’s coming and he wants it more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

“Is this OK?” Misha whispers sweetly.

Jensen whimpers in response.

Misha’s mouth ghosts over his rim. “It’s OK, Jensen. You can want this. It’s good. Feels good.”

He hides his face in the pillow and says, “Yeah, I want it. Do it.”

“What was that? I didn’t catch that.” His thumb is massaging Jensen’s right ass cheek, and it’s driving him up the wall.

He turns his head to the side and commands, “Do it.”

Misha presses his tongue in so fast and forcefully that Jensen arches back and squeezes the sheets. It feels weird, tickles a little, and it’s cold, but Jensen tries to think sexy thoughts so as not to psych himself out.

He barely has to think anything at all, though, because Misha is apparently an expert at this. He thought it was good when Danneel did it, but this is on a whole different level. Misha works his tongue, lips and fingers in an unbelievably steady rhythm that he only changes when Jensen tenses. Just as Jensen feels like it’s too much, Misha kisses him or bites his cheek or wiggles his tongue and Jensen’s back on board.

It goes on for a while, half an hour at least, Jensen constantly feeling on the edge of falling over and then Misha pulling him back and starting over again. Finally, Misha commands Jensen to turn over and he finishes him off easily with his hand. Jensen can do nothing but lie back and cover his face with the crook of his arm.

“Do you trust me now?” Misha asks, his voice low and raspy.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good.”

Misha lies on his back, and Jensen follows the dumb impulse to curl up next to him and hold him tightly. Misha laughs, pulls him closer and kisses the top of his head.

“You’re allowed to like things, you know.”

Jensen lifts his head to look curiously at Misha.

Misha scans his face and continues, “Liking things in your ass doesn’t affect your masculinity. Now, drinking through a straw, that’s a different story.”

Jensen pinches Misha’s hip hard. “Please don’t talk about my dad when I’m naked.”

Misha breaks down laughing and yanks Jensen on top of him. He kisses him sweetly as he rubs his hands up and down his back, and Jensen doesn’t even wrinkle his nose at the taste of ass. When Misha pulls back, his smile fades and his eyebrows knit together. He strokes the hair around Jensen’s ear.

“What’s up?” Jensen whispers.

“Nothing.” Misha sighs so dramatically that Jensen feels himself move up with Misha’s chest. “I’m just gonna miss this.”

Jensen frowns. “The show won’t survive without Castiel.”

“Yeah, I wish that were true.”

“It won’t. They’re making a huge mistake, and they’ll realize it.”

“In any case, I won’t have a job. So cherish my face in your ass while you can.”

Jensen chokes back a laugh. “We’ll make the most of it, don’t worry.”

Misha gives him a tightlipped smile. “I should go. And you should get back in costume. Sorry I didn’t let you nap.”

“Hey,” Jensen says as Misha stands in the small space and opens the door.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Misha smiles a bit more genuinely and leans over to kiss Jensen’s forehead.

Before Jensen even puts his clothes back on, he texts Danneel.

You’re not very good at eating ass.

Hey to you, too, babe.

You should get some tips from Mish.

Jesus Christ

Jensen

Babe.

How did he even get you to do that? You didn’t freak out?

I didn’t.

And you’re not freaking out now?

Jensen gets his clothes back on and heads out the door.

Nope. :)

Oh I do have some bad news though. I’ll call you in a couple hours.

What is it?

Don’t leave me hanging here.

Jensen.

I gotta go, but it’s Misha. He’s not coming back next year.

WHAT

Babe what the fuck

FILMING. I’ll call you later.

The problem with calling Danneel after work is that Misha is waiting in Jensen’s trailer when he gets there.

“Babe, I just got back to my trailer. Misha’s here, I gotta go.”

“Let me talk to him,” Danneel responds loud enough that Misha holds his hand out for the phone.

Jensen hands it over.

“Yeah, hon. Uh-huh. I’m OK, still processing it.” Misha looks down at his nails as Jensen stares at him. “Of course he’s helping me. He’s the only one who knows. Well, and you now obviously. Oh yeah, I told her. I know.”

Misha’s quiet for a little bit, and then a grin spreads across his face and he looks up mischievously at Jensen. “Oh, yeah? He did not tell me that.”

“Give me the phone,” Jensen fusses as he reaches toward Misha.

Misha jumps up off the couch and scurries away. “Well, thank you for warming him up to the idea for me.” He giggles. “Great minds think alike. Or, you know, we just know him better than he knows himself.” He winks at Jensen. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Oh, no, she hates it. Obviously. You think Jay’s the first guy I’ve—”

“Alright,” Jensen shouts as he finally snatches the phone back. “I’ll talk to you later, Dee. Bye.” He hangs up before she says anything else.

Jensen clenches his jaw and stares at Misha for several seconds.

Misha shrugs.

“Let’s go,” Jensen says sternly as he stalks out the door.

They say maybe four words to each other between the studio and Jensen's apartment, and zero words to each other once the door shuts behind them. Well, Jensen kicks the door closed and nearly falls over as Misha kisses him and drags him toward the bedroom. They stumble and remove articles of clothing and shoes and Jensen is usually a lot less frantic and a lot more methodical about these kinds of things, but he’s willing to go with the flow for the sake of his friend.

“I want you to fuck me,” Misha breathes between kisses.

It goes right to Jensen’s dick. “OK.”

Misha tries to explain that there’s lube in his duffel bag, but Jensen’s already pulling condoms and a bottle out of the nightstand.

“What?” Jensen asks at the skeptical look on Misha’s face.

“Nothing…”

Jensen hovers over Misha and sucks a bruise onto his neck as he reaches underneath him and pushes a finger inside of him. He’s never actually done this before. He has a fleeting thought that it feels different than Danneel. Then he thinks of course it feels different, idiot, it’s a different part of the body altogether. Danneel. Fuck. He should've talked to her about this on the phone earlier. 

Misha’s breathing is stilted, his fingernails dig into Jensen’s triceps, his foot slides up and down Jensen’s shin, he lifts his head up and bites hard into Jensen’s shoulder. Claims. Good ones. Jensen slides a second finger in and pushes deeper, up to the second knuckle. He touches his prostate, and Misha arches up off the bed. Jensen feels a bit of precome hit his stomach, so he repositions himself so their cocks can rub together. He’s holding himself up with one fist against the bed, which is exhausting and he’s shaking, but it all feels way too damn good to stop now.

They make out once Jensen has three fingers inside of him, probably as a distraction from the painful stretch. Misha relaxes completely and doesn’t react at all when Jensen pushes in and out with as much pressure as he can manage. Jensen thrusts his tongue into Misha's mouth in rhythm with his fingers, which makes Misha hum with satisfaction each time both tongue and fingers pull back. With their cocks rubbing together, too, it's almost enough stimulation to get off if they really wanted to. 

“OK, OK, pull out,” Misha says impatiently as he hikes one leg up over Jensen’s shoulder. “Like this. Get my ass up.”

Jensen kisses the inside of Misha’s thigh because it’s right next to his face so it seems like the logical thing to do, then he slides his right arm under his left thigh and grabs onto his hip to keep him steady. With his other hand firmly planted on the bed, he slides forward and blindly lines himself up.

"Jensen. Condom," Misha says in a tone that indicates how dumb Jensen is. 

Jensen has to move his arm out from its perfect position, which makes Misha's leg drop, and then he fumbles with the box on the nightstand and tries to open the package with one hand while his elbow digs into Misha's sternum.

"Jesus Christ," Misha complains. He snatches the wrapper out of Jensen's hand and opens it for him.

Jensen accepts it sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbles.

As Jensen slides the condom on and maneuvers them back into position, Misha says, "You know, I've been waiting so long for this, I expected it to be a lot sexier."

"You've been waiting long for this?"

"Quit fishing for compliments and put your huge cock in me already."

Jensen raises his eyebrows at him and lines himself up again. Misha gives a curt nod and folds his hands behind his head.

The image is so cute that Jensen smiles as his tip breaches Misha’s rim. He pushes carefully until about half his shaft is in, and then he stops moving and tries to take a few deep breaths. Count to 10.

Misha squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a satisfied breath. “Keep going, babe.”

With more enthusiasm this time, Jensen slides in until his balls press up against Misha’s ass. They both groan and then laugh at each other.

Jensen moves slowly, not for Misha’s sake but for the fact that he’s never felt anything so tight and he’s afraid his dick might break if Misha so much as clenches.

He leans down and kisses a line up Misha’s jaw before whispering in his ear, “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you. That ugly neon green sweater you were wearing and all.”

“Didn’t I—have my—costume on—when—we—met?”

“I saw you leaving later that night.” Jensen pushes impossibly deeper and increases the rhythm. “You’re really hot.”

Misha huffs a laugh, his eyes still closed. “Stop killing the mood. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jensen growls, readjusts his knees and lets his body take over for him. It’s only a handful of minutes before he feels like he’s close, so he extricates his right arm from around Misha’s leg and takes him in hand. Misha gasps and dances his fingers over his own stomach like he’s lost in some fantasy. It’s such a beautiful sight watching him writhe and moan and touch his own body that Jensen comes without even trying.

It takes Misha a couple more minutes, which is unfortunate for Jensen’s arm nearly giving out at how long it’s been holding him up. When come hits his face, Jensen doesn’t even care. He collapses on top of Misha and slowly pulls out. He can feel Misha’s heart racing underneath him, and he knows his is doing the same. He could probably pass out like this.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Misha commands with a hand in Jensen’s hair. “There’s come on your face.”

“Big disgrace.”

“Shut up.”

“Towel.”

As Jensen lazily gets out of bed, he removes his condom and throws it in the trash. His phone is on the bathroom counter, so he picks it up and sends Danneel a text.

I fucked Mish.

He doesn't expect her to reply since it's so late, but she answers before he can even find a towel. God, FINALLY. If he had told me one more time how badly he wants your "monster schlong" in his "boy pussy," I was gonna fly up there and fuck him myself. 

Excuse me

What

Wait

I meant yay! Congrats!! Proud of you, baby!!

We're talking about this later.

When he comes back with a wet towel, Misha takes one look at his naked body and bursts out laughing.

“Um,” Jensen says, offended.

“Your feet,” Misha replies.

Jensen looks down and sees cheap, white ankle socks. “Oh.”

“You fucked me while wearing socks.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Holy shit.”

As Jensen cleans them both up, he says, "So Danneel was just telling me something interesting."

"What? Just now?" Misha turns to his side so Jensen can clean his ass cheeks. 

"'Boy pussy?'" He whips the towel at Misha's ass as he says it.

Misha's eyes widen. He reaches back and rubs his ass. "Come to think of it, I don't know any Danneels. Kind of a weird name, so I'd remember it if I—oh!"

Jensen pushes the towel in his face. Misha grabs it and throws it to the side in disgust. They glare at each other for a second, but it's Misha who breaks.

“C’mere,” he says, reaching his arm out for Jensen to crawl under.

Don’t have to ask Jensen twice. He curls into Misha’s side and kisses his chest before resting his head there. “Next time we’re doing missionary. My arm’s killing me.”

“Next time, I’ll be the one doing all the work.”

“What?”

Misha pats his back patronizingly. “If you think I exclusively bottom, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Chapter Text

When Jensen wakes up in the morning, he’s alone in bed. He rubs one eye and turns his head back and forth as if by sheer willpower Misha will show up in his line of vision, but it doesn’t happen.

“Mish?” he asks the empty room.

Misha appears in the doorway a moment later, his phone pressed to his ear and a toothbrush in his hand. His boxer briefs are a muted orange today, almost red, and they’re way too short. They bunch up around his thighs, revealing the square-shaped muscles right above his knees. He’s also not wearing a shirt. He’s in shape the way action stars in the 1970s were in shape, which is to say he’s definitely not chiseled but he’s not schlubby either. His hipbones are insanely high, so the waistband of his boxer briefs rests well below them and shows off his curves. And god, what the fuck? His body is undoubtedly solid and masculine, but he's got curves. 

Jensen swallows.

“Yeah, I’m at his place now,” Misha says casually into the phone. “No. He’s looking at me right now. I don’t know, Vicki, he’s the same as usual. His hair is dryer. No product. I’ll tell him you said hey. Oh, and you were right.” He laughs and hangs his head. “I know. I’m not worried about it. You, too. Bye.”

After he hangs up, he crosses the room and crawls up onto the bed on all fours until he’s looming over Jensen and kissing him.

“Right about what?” Jensen asks when they’re done.

Misha’s face is hovering incredibly close to his, so Jensen sees the hesitation before he speaks. “None of your business. Vicki says hey.”

Jensen huffs his annoyance.

Misha kisses him gently. It's all too sweet and domestic, so Jensen doesn't stop himself from reaching out and sinking his fingers into that soft skin around Misha's ridiculous hipbone. His hand wanders up Misha's side, squeezes his pec, roams down his triceps where they're straining to hold him up. 

Jensen eventually breaks away with a frustrated groan. “Did you tell her that you’re out of a job?”

“I told her yesterday. She said, ‘Good, I can have you all to myself again.’”

“Great Vicki impression.”

Misha moves from his hands and knees to his butt, his toothbrush and phone still in hand as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes I wish she’d freak out at things.”

“What?”

“We’ve been poor as dirt, practically homeless, jobless, showering in local libraries...Nothing fazes her. Just once I wish she’d freak out at something that freaks me out.”

“Have you told her that?”

“Are you crazy? She’d laugh at me.”

Jensen sits up and positions himself behind Misha, not even remembering that he’s buck naked until his hard-on finds its way to the crease of Misha’s ass. He wraps an arm across his stomach and kisses his shoulder. “I’ll freak out with you. I’m scared to death that you’re leaving.”

“Oh, yeah?” He moves his head so his cheek affectionately rubs against Jensen’s.

“Yeah. You know I love you, right? You’re one of my—you and Jared are my best friends. I’m not sure how I’ll, uh...I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you, man.”

A beat passes before Misha replies, “Wow, you really no-homo’d your way through that one, huh?”

With a sigh, Jensen gets up and slides a pair of boxer briefs on. “I’m not in love with you. I was just trying to make that clear.”

“Babe.”

Jensen turns around and plants his hands on his hips, his arms akimbo. Misha is lying back on the bed, looking smug and a little bit too full of himself. “What?” Jensen asks impatiently.

“How did you expect me to respond? That I’m flattered? Surprised?”

Jensen bites his tongue. “Just once I wish you’d take me seriously.”

“I am taking you seriously! It’s just…” He hangs his head.

“Just what?”

“I know you love me. I see it every day, so it’s just superfluous for you to tell me. I already hear it from you all the time.”

Jensen scratches the back of his neck and looks at the floor. “I’m not in love with you.”

“I get that, Jensen.”

“OK.”

“OK.”

He clears his throat. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

They look at each other for a second. Jensen blinks his way out of it and stalks off to the bathroom. He half-expected Misha to follow him into the shower, so he’s a little disappointed to find himself alone in the small space. Probably not big enough for the two of them anyway.

Misha is sitting at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of tea and reading something on his phone when Jensen is done in the bathroom. A rush of affection pours through Jensen when he sees him, so he goes up behind him and presses his hands into his shoulders and bends down to kiss his cheek.

“Whatcha reading?” Jensen asks in a whisper.

“News.” Misha turns his head and kisses Jensen squarely on the mouth. “This.”

“What?”

“This is how I know you love me.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and goes over to the coffeemaker. “Not in love with you.”

“Yep.”

Christmas break sneaks up on Jensen annoyingly quickly. He’s never complained about breaks before, but then again he’s never had a fuckbuddy willing to suck his dick every day. Or sometimes twice, three times a day.

“I’m going home tomorrow,” Jensen says, out of breath, with a lap full of Misha dry-humping him at 2 p.m. on a Thursday.

“When are you coming back?” Misha responds between kisses to Jensen’s neck.

“January 2. You?”

“The eighth.”

Jensen groans in frustration and presses his hands to Misha’s back, pulling him closer.

“You’re still coming over on the 27?” Misha asks.

“Yeah, for a couple days.” He leans forward and bites his shoulder. “Dee asked me if it’d be OK if she and Vicki took West to some—I don’t know—some—thing—”

“So that you and I have some alone time?”

Jensen kisses him hard on the mouth. “Yeah,” he says when he pulls away.

“Mm.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head up.

There’s something totally unsatisfying about coming while dry-humping, reaching that edge and sort of spilling over but not completely so there’s really no come-down and the body just kind of hurts for a little while afterward.

It’s pretty awesome.

“Get off me,” Jensen mumbles once they’ve both come.

Misha gingerly rolls over and palms his crotch. “We gotta stop doing that.”

“Sure.”

They both breathe heavily for a minute.

“Have you had sex with your wife lately?” Misha asks nonchalantly.

“Uh, not really. She wasn’t in the mood when she was here a couple weeks ago.”

“West is, like, three months old now and Vicki still isn’t in the mood.”

“You haven’t slept with her since before he was born?”

Misha shakes his head.

Jensen huffs a laugh. “Good thing you’ve got a fuckbuddy, huh?”

Misha turns a confused look on him. “What?”

Now also confused, Jensen points between the two of them.

“You see me as a fuckbuddy?” Misha asks.

“No. I see you as my best friend that I have a lot of sex with.”

“So you were saying that to try to see if I see you as a fuckbuddy.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stands up. He picks empty bottles up off the coffee table just to have something to do with his hands. “You know, sometimes I just say things. No ulterior motives.”

“Hey.” He smacks Jensen lightly on the ass.

Jensen turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“C’mere.”

It’s hard to argue with that, so Jensen leans down until Misha can get his arms around him and pull him in for an awkward hug.

“I’m gonna miss your cock so much over the hiatus,” Misha whispers.

Jensen immediately stands back up and goes back to tidying.

“Come on, I’m joking,” Misha says lightheartedly.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Jensen grumbles.

Misha sighs loudly and takes his jeans off. He’s not wearing any underwear.

“The hell are you doing?” Jensen asks.

“I’m not walking back to my trailer with come on my pants, Jay.”

“Come over tonight.”

“Am I allowed to make jokes at your apartment?” he asks as he pulls a pair of pants out of a kitchen cabinet.

“You stow your shit in my kitchen?”

“You haven’t noticed?” As he buttons his pants, he closes the distance between them and pecks Jensen on the lips. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When Danneel picks Jensen up from the airport the next day, she doesn’t even get out of the car to greet him. He puts his luggage in the trunk and slides into the passenger seat and barely shuts the door behind him before she starts moving.

“Sorry, I was sitting there for too long,” she explains as she looks in the rearview mirror. “I was not about to do hourly parking and pay $7 for five minutes.”

“How often do we have to go over this? I made three million dollars last year, hon.”

“Yeah, so? That’s not the point, and that's always your argument.” Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches a hand over to press against his thigh. “How are you doing?”

He covers her hand with his own. “Pretty good. Tired.”

“I’ve got chili in the crockpot. Figured we could cozy up by the fire and pretend like it’s snowing outside.”

“As long as we can pretend to be snowed in for at least three days, I’m happy.”

“Wow, you really must be tired.”

“You have no idea.”

“How many hours did you work this week?”

“What?”

Danneel eyes him curiously. “Busy week, yeah?”

“Oh, um.” He fights a smile. “Yeah. That’s why I’m tired.”

“Oh my god. Gross!” She yanks her hand out from under his. “Y’all are animals. I swear I think you’re exaggerating every time you tell me about your disgusting sex life with him.”

“He would call you homophobic for saying that.”

“So how late did he keep you up last night?”

“Woke me up this morning, actually,” Jensen mumbles.

“I swear to god, if I don’t get laid because of this—”

“Whoa, hey, slow down.” Now it’s his turn to press a hand to her thigh, but a bit more aggressively than what she did to him. “We can skip the chili and I’ll eat you out as soon as we get home.”

She nods and looks at the road. “Probably a good idea to skip the chili, I don’t want my vagina on fire.”

“Jesus, how hot did you make the chili?”

“Hot enough, Jensen.”

He snorts a laugh.

“I’m assuming I don’t have to return the favor, if Misha’s texts are anything to go by,” Danneel continues.

“What?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Oh, god, not the boy pu—"

"No, no, not that." She giggles before continuing. "He writes poems. You seriously don’t know about this?”

“Not a fucking clue.”

“Here.” She fishes her phone out of her pocket and tosses it over to him. “Go to our text chain, he sent me one yesterday.”

Misha’s name has three exclamation points after it in Danneel’s phone, which makes Jensen laugh every time he sees it. Misha is the one who put it in like that, of course.

“'Though I travel here and there, I’ve been around the block. There’s nothing I’d rather do, I swear, than kneel right here and suck this cock,'” Jensen reads monotonously. He stares at the screen.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence has passed, Danneel says, “That’s always my reaction, too."

“How often does he send you these?” Jensen asks as he scrolls quickly through their text chain and finds three more short poems in the past week or so.

“Well at first I thought he was sending them every time y’all had sex, but then after talking to you I realized I’d be getting a poem every five minutes if that were the case, so—”

“Oh, come on—”

“—I think it’s just random. As Misha tends to be.”

“Always about my dick?”

“Seventy percent of the time, yeah. The other 30 percent are about your ass, which is weird since it's not really your best feature but he loves talking about eating it.”

“Great.”

“Oh and the occasional ode to my body.”

“What?” Jensen yells.

“Babe, chill.”

“Why the hell would he—”

“He wrote a really good one about my rack once. Rhymed ‘plastic surgery’ with ‘magic turnkey.’ Oh! And ‘implants’ with ‘circumstance.’ I think I actually saved it to my phone.”

Jensen bristles, squeezing the phone in his hand as he tries not to burst into flames.

“God, Jay, lighten up. You’re the one fucking him, let me have some fun, too.”

“Why does he even know that your boobs are fake?”

Danneel laughs out loud at that. “Um, he’s seen me? It’s not exactly a well-kept secret, babe.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“You know, I’m a really cool fucking wife for actively participating in your extramarital sex life with a dude while you sit there getting all huffy over a classy breast implant joke.”

He opens his mouth to answer but then shuts it immediately.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

They drive the rest of the way in silence.

Jensen apologizes when they get home. With his tongue. While Icarus scratches at their bedroom door.

As Jensen and Danneel wait outside Misha's house for somebody to come to the door, Jensen shifts his weight from foot to foot and taps his fingers against his jeans.

“You’re acting like it’s prom night,” Danneel whispers.

“Nervous.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“I haven’t seen Vick since before he and I got pretty serious, so I don’t know how this is gonna go.”

“Pretty serious, huh? I didn’t realize you were pretty—”

The door opens, revealing a very smiley Misha. “Hey, gorgeous, how are you?” Misha greets as he hugs Danneel. He winks at Jensen as he says, “And you, too, handsome.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Jensen replies even as he hauls Misha in for a tight hug. He kisses his cheek before letting go.

They smile at each other for a second. Misha has a beautiful, infectious smile and Jensen has no idea how he ever resisted kissing it right off his face. 

“Alright, I’m uncomfortable. Mish, where’s Vicki?” Danneel interrupts.

Without looking away from Jensen, Misha answers, “Kitchen. Go on in, we’ll be there in a sec.”

Danneel gives a sarcastic “thanks” before pushing past Misha and shutting the door behind her.

“Hi,” Jensen says stupidly.

“Hey.”

“So, uh.” He smiles sheepishly. “Have sex with your wife yet?”

Misha throws his head back and laughs. “That’s not exactly the question I was expecting.” He grabs Jensen by the back of the neck and kisses him gently. “Yes, I did. Missionary style, which is so rare for us that we might as well have tried BDSM.”

“Not surprised you never do missionary, definitely surprised you don’t do BDSM.”

He winks again, this time more subtly. “I’m saving that for you. Come on inside, you might get to see West smile.”

Vicki is feeding West in the living room when they come inside, Danneel sitting too close in the armchair next to her with a glass of wine in her hand. Vicki looks up and grins knowingly at Jensen.

“You two have a nice chat outside?” Vicki asks.

Danneel rolls her eyes. “Is this all we’re gonna do the whole time we’re here? Beat around the bush?”

“I do love a good bush,”  Vicki says.

Misha snaps and points at her. “I was gonna say the same thing!”

Jensen and Danneel share a look.

“So, uh, how you been, Vicki?” Jensen asks as he tries not to look at her chest. The kid is really going to town on her.

“You know, Jensen, I’ve never felt better,” she answers with a sarcastic edge. “I sleep four hours a night and I never see my husband. Living the dream.”

“You’ll see a lot more of me soon,” Misha soothes as he walks behind her toward the kitchen. “I’ve got boiled dinner on the stove, hope nobody has any objections to it.”

“Oh yeah, and my husband’s out of a job. I forgot about that one.” She puts West up on her shoulder and burps him.

“Wow, I guess I shouldn’t’ve asked,” Jensen says.

“Eh, it’s life.” Vicki shrugs. “Roll with the flow, go with the punches, whatever you want to call it. No sense worrying.”

“So you don’t worry? Ever?” It sounds more accusatory than Jensen means. Danneel glares at him.

“Uh oh, somebody’s been worrying about me not worrying, hasn’t he?”

Jensen’s face heats up. “I, uh…”

Danneel leans out of her armchair to hit him. “Let Misha pick his own battles, babe.”

“I’m sure he tells you all sorts of things he doesn’t want me to know.” She turns toward Danneel. “Isn’t it weird to think they probably talk about us while they fuck?”

Danneel nearly chokes on the sip of wine she just took. “OK, so I guess we’re done beating around that bush.”

“Whose bush?” Misha asks as he comes back into the living room. He walks right over to Jensen and sits sideways in his lap. “What did I miss?”

Vicki and Danneel both smirk and avert their gazes.

Jensen wraps his arms low around Misha and pulls him in closer. “Nothing.”

“Jensen here was just enlightening us about how much you worry,” Vicki explains.

Jensen tenses.

“I hear water is wet, too,” Misha says. “Dinner is ready whenever you guys want it.”

“I want to hold the baby first,” Danneel says enthusiastically. She sets her wine on the coffee table and makes grabby hands toward Vicki.

It’s pretty cute how they pass the baby off.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you,” Jensen whispers so only Misha hears. “Vicki’s just hard to read.”

“For you, maybe,” Misha says, sounding somewhat offended. “I’ve known her a little longer, so I guess I have an advantage.”

“I didn’t—I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it, um, bad.”

“How eloquent of you.”

Jensen squeezes him. “Is this really how we’re spending Christmas? C’mon, it’s been weeks.”

“Week. One week.”

“Mm. Needy.”

“Yes. You are.”

Danneel and Vicki both start laughing, so Jensen and Misha turn their attention back to them.

“What’s funny?” Jensen asks.

“Oh, it’s not important.” Vicki waves him off. “I’m going to get something to eat. You’re welcome to join me.”

Jensen gives Danneel a pleading look.

“Here,” Danneel says as she places West in Misha’s arms. “I’ll get y’all a couple bowls.”

“Thank you,” they say in unison.

While they wait for Danneel to bring them dinner, Jensen makes funny faces and gets West to coo at him. Misha randomly kisses Jensen’s forehead as he's making fart noises with his tongue.

It surprises Jensen so much that he looks up at Misha curiously. Misha leans over and seals their mouths together.

“Oh my god, we leave for two seconds,” Vicki complains as she sits back down on the couch with her boiled dinner. “You’ll get a room tonight, can you hold off until then?”

“No,” Misha answers quickly.

“We get a room tonight?” Jensen asks eagerly.

“Vicki and I are bunking up in the master,” Danneel explains. “But only for one night, and you’re on baby duty. Y’all get to see each other all the time, so no complaining.”

Jensen squeezes Misha excitedly.

“We get it, Jensen, you have the best wife ever,” Vicki says.

West is conked out on Misha’s chest, so Misha gets up and situates a papoose across his shoulders so he can eat his dinner. Vicki laments that Misha spoils the shit out of the kid; he’ll never learn to sleep anywhere but up against somebody’s chest.

Jensen asks how it's going with them trying to fit West into their lives instead of working their lives around him. They burst out laughing and go on for 10 straight minutes about how big of idiots they were for thinking that was possible. 

As the night wears on, long after they’ve managed to get West in his crib, Jensen feels hazy with wine and is absentmindedly tickling Danneel’s back while she and Misha and Vicki discuss some recent political event.

“You OK, babe?” Misha asks, quieting the room and forcing everyone to look at Jensen.

Jensen sits up a little. “Hmm?”

Everybody laughs.

“Looks like we need to put you to bed, too,” Danneel says sweetly as she puts her arm around his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Jensen replies. “Just listening.”

“So, how are you two adjusting?” Vicki asks.

Danneel and Jensen stare at her in anticipation of an explanation.

“You know, to Jensen having a boyfriend?”

Misha smiles and looks down at his wine glass while Danneel snorts a laugh.

“Is that what y’all are? Boyfriends?” Danneel asks.

“No,” Jensen answers too quickly. “I mean. I don’t know. Mish?”

Misha shrugs, still smiling down at his hands. “Labels aren’t really my thing.”

Vicki rolls her eyes.

“I don’t really think of it as Jay having a boyfriend,” Danneel explains. “And I don’t get jealous, so honestly I think it’s great.”

“Great in what way?” Vicki presses.

Danneel taps her fingers against Jensen’s shoulder. “He’s more relaxed, more open about things, not as ‘macho’ anymore.”

“Whoa, hey,” Jensen protests.

“What? It’s a good thing. You watch Real Housewives now, and isn't your life better for it?"

Jensen clenches his jaw.

“I’ve been surprised,” Misha says quietly. “I expected this to be a lot more difficult than it has been.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jensen asks accusatorily.

“Oh, I expected a lot more fighting and convincing just to make you comfortable about me being a man. A lot more protesting that if you have sex with me, then you're automatically gay. I thought it would be years before we’d fuck.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Danneel interrupts. “Jensen, you’re, like, the straightest most heterosexual queer I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not—I’m not—well, clearly I got over it.”

“Jensen, how do you feel? Having feelings for two different people, has it been hard?” Vicki asks.

“Um.” He looks over at Danneel and then back at Vicki. “I don’t know?”

“I think it’s time we let Jensen get some rest,” Misha says as he stands. “C’mon, baby.” He walks over to the couch and reaches a hand down to help him up.

As Jensen takes his hand, Danneel smacks him on the ass.

“No funny business tonight, you got a baby to take care of,” she says.

“Too tired anyway,” Jensen mumbles as he and Misha make their way toward the guest bedroom.

After a silent routine of changing into pajamas (boxer briefs and no shirt for Misha, god help Jensen), brushing teeth, making sure West is OK, Misha pulls back the covers and says, “I’m sorry my wife is nosy.”

“What?”

They stand across from each other, the bed between them. Misha puts his hands on his hips. “I know you and Danneel would tell me if this, uh, arrangement isn’t working for you guys, so I don't want you thinking I put Vicki up to interrogating you.”

“Well I wasn’t thinking it, but now I’m not so sure.”

Misha smiles and throws a pillow at Jensen’s face. He then climbs into bed and pats the spot next to him.

Jensen hesitates for just a moment before falling into bed next to him. He lies flat on his back and looks up at the ceiling, his hands folded across his chest.

“Hey,” Misha says.

Jensen turns his head toward him.

“I can tell you’re freaking out, quit freaking out.”

“I let you freak out,” Jensen responds petulantly as he flips over to his side so they’re facing each other.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I still get to have sex with you when I’m freaking out. You freak out, you barely look at me. And besides, I do more worrying than freaking out.”

Jensen reaches over and runs his fingers through Misha’s hair. “We’re not supposed to have sex with the baby in the room.”

“Vicki and I have definitely broken that rule in the past couple days.”

“Gross, dude.”

“Oh, so now sex with my wife is gross?”

“With a baby in the room, yeah.”

Misha scoots himself close enough to wrap his arm around Jensen’s middle. Jensen flips back over to his back so Misha can rest his head on his chest. 

After a couple minutes of silence, Misha asks, “Do you think our wives are having sex?”

“They better not be.”

“Why not?”

“Because—it’s just—we didn’t…”

“I always think Danneel’s exaggerating about how jealous you get, but holy shit she’s not.”

Jensen rolls his eyes.

“So if she was with another person the way you’re with me, you’d be pissed?”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Right, you’re already freaking out.” He squeezes Jensen’s hip. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

A few more minutes of silence pass.

“You write Dee poems about my dick?”

“Uh…”

“Why the fuck do you do that?”

Misha slides his hand down until he’s palming Jensen’s crotch. “Sometimes I’m so mesmerized by it the only thing I can think to do is write poetry.”

Jensen arches his hips up and takes a deep breath. “Nope, not falling for this.”

Misha kisses his neck. “I’ve never seen a cock like yours.”

“Please shut up.”

He works his way into Jensen’s pants and grabs his already hard shaft. “I think about Danneel a lot when I’m with you. How lucky she is to have you all the time. How lucky you are. Sometimes I think about fucking you while you fuck her. Oh, or you eating her out while I eat you out. You’re both so hot, I would definitely—” He pumps fast and hard, “—come early.”

Jensen comes early.

“Baby. In the room,” Jensen says through panted breaths.

“Well then it’s a good thing that took less than five minutes.”

Jensen smacks him in the face.

The next morning, Misha is curled up behind Jensen with his arm firmly fixed around his middle. They’re so perfectly spooned together that Misha must be at least half-awake and consciously put them in this position. Jensen adjusts himself until he feels morning wood in the crease of his ass. He sighs contentedly and falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, Misha is gone and the shower in the guest bathroom is running. Jensen throws on a new pair of boxer briefs and baggy jeans, grabs West and pads his way out to the kitchen.

He’s rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he catches Danneel and Vicki gently kissing each other across the coffeemaker. They quickly jump apart when he clears his throat.

Danneel looks guiltily down at the coffee pot while Vicki says, “I think the only ones left are you and me, bud.”

It takes Jensen a second to get it, so he doesn’t even try to come up with a response. He walks over to them, hands West off to Vicki, then kisses Danneel lazily on the temple.

“Babe, what’s up with your pants?” Danneel asks, tugging on his jeans.

“What?”

“Those are Misha’s,” Vicki explains.

“Are they?” Jensen asks, looking down at his pants. They really are way too big on him.

“You should keep them, they look good,” Vicki says.

“I can’t take a pair of Misha’s pants.”

“Sure you can,” Misha says as he comes up behind Jensen and grabs his ass. “I like how I have to search for your ass.”

Jensen turns to say something really clever in response, but Misha’s hair is wet from the shower and his boxer briefs are hugging his hips and there are droplets of water on his chest. Jensen licks his lips and says nothing.

“Jensen, you know he does this on purpose, right?” Vicki asks.

“Hmm?” Jensen responds, still not really taking his focus off of Misha.

“He’s never shirtless when you’re not around.”

“Well, good thing I’m around right now.”

Danneel clears her throat. “Vicki and I are taking West out for a little bit after breakfast. Don’t do anything irresponsible.”

“Hey, you, too,” Jensen says sternly. “I see what’s going on between you two.” He points suspiciously between Danneel and Vicki.

“Don’t you worry, Jensen, I’ll take good care of her for you.” She hands West off to Misha. “And afterward I’ll tell you everything I learned.”

“What?”

“Jensen, did you have anything in mind that you wanted to do today?” Misha asks.

“Um, no.”

“Good,” Misha says definitively.

It’s weird. Jensen expects Misha to be flirty and seductive and instead he sounds clinical.

They eat breakfast and talk about...hell, Jensen has no idea. Danneel and Vicki leave with West immediately after coffee and eggs, and Misha puts clothes on, then sits at the kitchen table with his laptop open while he finishes his toast. 

“What are you doing?” Jensen asks.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look away from the screen.

“I said, what are you—”

“Oh. Um, some charity stuff.”

“The scavenger hunt thing?”

Misha finally looks over at him, eyebrow raised. “I didn’t think you were listening when I told you about that.”

“What? You bring it up a lot. Especially with Jared.”

“And you listen when Jared and I are talking about things you don’t care about?”

“Who says I don’t care?”

“You’ve never—I don’t know, asked me about it.”

Jensen leans forward in his seat and claps his hands together. “Well, I’m here now. Shoot.”

“What?”

“You want to work on this today, let’s work.”

A beat passes. “Are you serious?”

Jensen nods.

“You’re not just doing this so I’ll blow you?”

“Misha.”

“OK. Alright. Fine.” He gets up, picks up his laptop and walks toward the living room.

Jensen follows him.

Misha spends the next hour spreading out notebooks and planners and an iPad and his laptop and poring over everything he’s supposed to do before August. It’s way above Jensen’s pay grade, but he helps where he can and offers support where it’s needed. Most of all, he listens.

Jensen’s a pretty decent storyteller when he wants to be, but Misha is a fucking orator. He explains everything there is to know about nonprofits before launching into why MinionStimulus isn’t a nonprofit and how they’re working to make it into one. Random Acts is due to launch in a few weeks' time. He talks about Vicki getting a job at Hooter’s, them stealing a goat in college, both falling so in love with scavenger hunts that they counted it down on their calendars every year of undergrad. He tells him about all the amazing people he’s working with, how they’re going to reach their goals, what they’ve achieved so far and what they have planned for the next five years. And as Jensen listens, he believes.

There’s something mesmerizing about somebody being so sure of their passion, somebody 100 percent real and honest about what they want to do. Sincerity is attractive in a way nothing else is.

“Jensen?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Misha asks from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a binder in his lap and papers in both his hands.

“Yeah. I mean, no.”

Misha squints at him then gets up off the floor and sits next to Jensen on the couch. Jensen immediately wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.

“Am I boring you?”

“Not possible," Jensen says.

“But you weren’t listening.”

“Thinking.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Jensen rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, you know. You care a lot. I can’t think of anything I care about enough to start a nonprofit over it.”

Misha reaches over and scratches Jensen’s almost-beard. “Not everybody’s an activist.”

“Mm.”

“This isn’t making you feel bad about yourself, is it?”

“What? No,” Jensen defends. “I just think you’re amazing.” He clears his throat. “That’s all.”

With a shit-eating grin on his face, Misha turns and plants a pretty intense kiss on Jensen. When they’re done, they chase each other’s mouths and give each other a few more innocent kisses before calling it quits. They look at each other afterward. Jensen’s heart pounds in his chest.

“Once my contract is up, I’ll have a lot more time to devote to all this. Silver lining,” Misha says as he rests his head against Jensen’s chest.

“Do we have to talk about that?”

“No. But eventually we’ll have to face reality, Jay.”

“And what’s that?”

“What? Reality?”

Jensen removes his arm from around Misha and scoots away from him. “Yeah. What’ll happen?”

Misha huffs a laugh and drops his elbows to his knees. He ducks his head and runs both hands up through his hair before answering, “Well, I’ll be doing a lot more charity work. Trying to keep together the fanbase I have. And you’ll be in Vancouver, filming as usual. I think I, uh, might not look for work.”

“What?”

“I was thinking of staying home to be with West for a few months. Be present for a while.”

“You don’t wanna be on any other show.”

Misha finally turns his head and looks right at him. “No. I don’t. And there’s a stupid, nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that this isn’t it for me. That somehow, they’ll ask me to come back and everything will go back to normal and Jared will annoy the shit out of me and you and I will…”

“Bone.”

“I was gonna say pick up where we left off.”

“Whoa, hey, that implies breaking—breaking off what we’re doing.”

Misha sighs and closes his eyes. “Um, how often do you see your wife?”

“What does that—”

“Do you plan on flying home to her and to me? I visit you on weekends she’s not there? After you finish talking to her on the phone every day, you call me next and lose the few hours of sleep you get each night? How exactly do you see long distance working for us, Jensen?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen says quietly. He stares at the piles of paperwork on the floor.

“We have an expiration date.”

“No, please don't. Don't say that. Still friends. We don’t—it’s not like we have to stop being friends.”

Misha looks at him sadly.

The back door opens, and Danneel and Vicki’s voices drift through.

Jensen heads toward the kitchen.

Chapter Text

“I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Just accept it, man. I’m smarter than you.”

“I went to college. My wife has a PhD.”

Jared snorts a laugh. “What does your wife have to do with this?”

Misha glares at him before angrily looking back down at his phone. He never even liked playing Scrabble as a kid. He doesn’t know why he downloaded Words with Friends.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jensen greets as he joins Misha and Jared. They’re standing on a sidewalk with a lot of cars around and crewmembers setting the scene.

“Misha’s pissed because I beat him at Words with Friends,” Jared explains smugly.

“Words with what now?”

Misha fights back a smile. He doesn’t need Jared seeing how endearing he finds Jensen.

“Words with Friends. It’s like Scrabble on your phone,” Jared says as he holds his phone out to show Jensen.

“Hmm,” Jensen grunts at the phone. “Looks stupid.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the problem,” Misha says defensively. “It’s a stupid game, so why should I care if I win or not?”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Misha growls and huddles closer to his phone.

Jensen moves into his personal space and rubs the center of his back. Misha turns to give him a, “why are you doing this in front of Jared” look, but Jensen’s eyes are trained on the aforementioned.

“Hey, Jay-rod, beer tonight?”

Jared doesn’t react at all to Jensen’s obvious display of affection toward Misha. “You buying?”

Jensen shrugs and keeps rubbing Misha’s back.

Jared’s eyes flick between Jensen and Misha before settling on Jensen. “Sure. Your boyfriend invited?”

“No, you boys have fun. I’ll have a lady’s night to myself,” Misha replies deadpan. He steps away from Jensen.

“You’ll spend the night crying over how bad you suck at Words with Friends?”

“C’mon, let’s play again right now. I’ll fucking destroy you.”

Jensen places both hands on Misha’s shoulders to placate him. Misha shrugs him off immediately.

Jensen turns his head away from Jared and whispers right against Misha’s ear, “Relax, babe.”

Misha could fucking murder him. Instead, he clenches his jaw and stares bullets at him until Jensen blushes and ducks his head and doesn’t say anything else.

Misha loses another game of Words with Friends.

It’s only a few weeks into the new year, and already Misha feels like he’s starting off on the wrong foot. Not just because of a stupid game, but also because he hasn’t been spending as much time with Jensen as he would like. Sometimes he does feel jealous about how much time Jared and Jensen spend together, but it’s really not his place to say. He nags his actual wife enough; he doesn’t also need to nag his not-boyfriend.

Things get a little bit better the week they film the French Mistake. There’s a lightheartedness on set that comes with everyone feeling the effects of the tongue-in-cheek, and it makes for a much more relaxed work environment. Even with the long hours, nobody complains.

Jensen and Jared work really hard to stay in character, so Misha is sure to gloat all week about how easy it is to play an asshole version of himself.

“Asshole version? You mean an accurate version of yourself?” Jared says one afternoon.

“Yeah, Jared, that’s what I mean,” Misha replies, unamused.

Jensen snorts a laugh as Jared deflates.

Misha turns toward Jensen with a smile. “Did you see the part of the script where a P.A. tries to hand me something as I’m leaving? I’m gonna brush them off and say something condescending. ‘See ya, kid.’”

Jensen laughs so hard that his eyes squeeze shut and his nose scrunches up.

“‘Night night, little buddy,’” Misha continues.

Jared tries to cut in, but Misha doesn’t let him.

“‘See ya around, little fella.’”

Jensen leans forward and plants his hands on his knees. His head drops and his whole body shakes with laughter.

“Or, like, when we’re filming a scene and somebody’s supposed to be messing with my hair. I’m just gonna, like, push her away.”

Jensen is laughing so hard that Misha starts up, too. He looks at Jared, but Jared is just standing there smiling awkwardly and only kind of laughing. He looks at Jensen with a confused, slightly embarrassed expression.

Eventually Jensen calms down enough to say, “The dailies.”

“You’re gonna ask for the dailies just to watch me act like a jerk?”

Jensen nods enthusiastically.

Jared is still looking at him curiously, smile fading a bit.

They get called to their spots, and Misha follows through on pushing the fake hair and makeup girl out of the way. Jensen repeatedly loses it and consequently wastes the next half hour of tape.

Because Genevieve is in town for the full week of filming, Jensen spends no time at all with Jared. He follows Misha like a puppy back to his trailer and asks him to go to the bar with him.

“But if we’re out in public, how am I supposed to suck you off?” Misha asks nonchalantly as he hangs up his trench coat.

“Bathroom,” Jensen responds without missing a beat.

Misha turns and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Am I your Jared stand-in this week?”

“No, dude, come on.”

Jensen waits for some kind of answer from Misha, but Misha just turns his back to him and takes his tie off.

“Oh,” Jensen says.

Misha can’t help it. He spins back around and asks, “What?”

A smile quirks Jensen’s lips. He wags a finger at Misha and closes the distance between them. “You’re jealous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You want me all to yourself.” He grabs Misha by the waist and effortlessly yanks him forward until he can fit his arms around his back. Instead of his back, though, Jensen slides his hands down to Misha’s ass and grabs two handfuls. “Don’t worry, Jay-rod doesn’t give as good head as you do.”

“Hilarious.”

“You made a B.J. joke five seconds ago.”

“It didn’t involve Jared.” Misha tries to squirm out of Jensen’s hold, but only nominally. Jensen holds him tighter.

“I like this.”

“Like what?”

“I’m usually the jealous one.” He kisses Misha sweetly, causing Misha to embarrassingly whimper into it. “I would never do anything with Jared, don’t worry.”

Curiosity gets the better of him. “You’ve never…?”

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.” Jensen looks off to the side and absentmindedly squeezes Misha’s ass with just his right hand. “But, I don’t know, after about a year working together he was my best friend. No romantic feelings at all.”

“Hmm.”

As Misha collects his thoughts, Jensen’s eyes drift down to his neck, eyelids a little droopy as his head moves forward and his lips press against Misha’s skin. Misha gets just three innocent kisses before Jensen’s tongue flattens against his neck and his lips seal around it.

 “You have—romantic—feelings for—me?” Misha asks, his breathing a bit labored. He digs his fingers into the short hair at the back of Jensen’s head and holds him steady.

“Maybe,” Jensen mumbles against his neck.

“I think I’m just—still really mad at Jared. For the Words with Friends thing.”

Jensen immediately drops his head to Misha’s shoulder and groans loudly.

“Hey,” Misha says, patting Jensen’s back. “Fuck the bar. Come home with me.”

They don’t mention Jared again for the rest of the night.

The following day, Jensen and Misha drive in together, walk onto set together, wave at various crewmembers together—but Jensen says, “Wardrobe” before patting Misha hard on the back and leaving him to go to craft services alone. When Misha plops down across from Jared and Gen, Jared immediately wonders why Jensen isn’t at breakfast.

“He said he was going to wardrobe,” Misha explains as he pushes his eggs around his plate.

“You saw him this morning?”

“We drove in together.”

“Your driver picked both of you up?” Gen asks.

Misha looks up at her with wide eyes. Jared might be a fucking idiot when Misha says blatantly obvious shit about him and Jensen being slightly more than just friends, but he should probably be more careful around Gen.

“Um, no. I drive myself.”

“You do? Why?” she presses.

“Misha’s a maniac,” Jared explains with a cheek full of food. “He said his driver wasn’t fast enough.”

“He drove three miles over the speed limit. Three miles!”

“So now you’re Jensen’s driver? You go pick him up at his house and chauffeur him here?”

“Something like that,” Misha mutters, eyes back on his eggs.

“Oh, hey, did y’all see the call sheet today?” Jared asks excitedly. “Jensen doesn’t know that we’re gonna have actual footage of him on Days of Our Lives.”

Misha racks his brain for the script. “Is it when you’re in his trailer?”

Jared nods. “Stage six at 2 o’clock today.”

Jensen is of course suspicious when Misha shows up to the small room and takes a seat in a director’s chair that isn’t his, but the slate drops before he can ask Misha what he’s doing there. Jared just winks at him.

By Misha’s vantage point, he can’t see what’s playing on the laptop, but he can see Jensen’s very real reaction. He can just barely hear the laptop speakers playing a very young version of Jensen’s voice, and he has to close his eyes in embarrassment when Jensen’s face drains of color.

Without missing a beat, though, Jensen improvises, “I don’t like this universe, Sammy, we have to get out of this universe.”

They call cut. Everybody bursts out laughing. Jensen hangs his head and covers his eyes with his whole hand.

“That’s for sure the take we’ll use,” the A.D. says over the laughter.

Jensen looks up and briefly makes eye contact with Misha before turning to the A.D. “Please don’t make me do it again.”

Jared hits play on the laptop, lets it play for a few seconds, then rewinds it and plays it again three more times before Jensen tackles him.

After the P.A. breaks them up, Jensen brushes himself off and immediately looks over at Misha. There’s something in his expression, something like a challenge.

Misha raises an eyebrow at him. Jensen looks away.

They don’t talk about it later, but Jensen comes over to Misha’s house again and fucks him so hard that the headboard of his bed hits the wall and dents it a little.

Things only get weirder the next week when they’re filming a literal Old Western episode. Jensen shows up on set way giddier than usual, and Misha elects not to ask him about it.

The answer comes soon enough anyway. On day one they’re driven out to a studio built like the American frontier complete with tumbleweed and swinging doors at the saloon. Jensen very nearly presses his face up against the window of the car as he excitedly yells about all the different features of the set.

“I thought it was Dean who had the cowboy fetish,” Misha says skeptically.

Jensen looks at him, embarrassment tingeing his cheeks probably because there are other people in the car with them. “I grew up in Texas,” is the best explanation he can come up with.

When they get out and find Jared completely unfazed by the location, Misha gives Jensen a pointed look and is satisfied when Jensen rolls his eyes and pouts.

They of course don’t need Misha and Jim in the Wild West studio, but they brought them anyway just so they could get an idea of how the episode is going to go. They spend the majority of the morning going over blocking and staging before Misha and Jim are carted back to set to film a couple of scenes together while Jared and Jensen do the fun stuff. Misha laments missing the opportunity to see Jensen in his cowboy get-up and then immediately chastises himself for being a hypocrite.

Jensen, like the goddamn nightmare that he is, texts Misha a picture of himself in his sheriff costume, hands in his pockets, head and hat tipped down so only the lower half of his face is visible. Jared must’ve taken the picture, which is all manners of ridiculous.

“Jesus,” Misha exclaims involuntarily.

“What?” Jim asks.

Misha fumbles with his phone and shoves it into his trench coat pocket. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

Jim raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask again.

On their next break, Misha texts back, You fucker.

Several hours later, after an exhausting day of work, Misha hears the door of his trailer open while he’s freshening up in the bathroom. He’s wiping a towel down his face when he comes out, but he unceremoniously drops it when he sees Jensen sprawled out on the couch.

He’s still wearing his costume.

Misha’s heart does a weird little drop as he takes in the sight. He licks his lips and stares for several seconds before Jensen turns his head slowly toward him. He pushes his hat back just enough for Misha to see his eyes.

“Howdy, par—”

“I’m fucking you tonight,” Misha interrupts.

Jensen’s eyes widen. He bites his lip and looks away. He nods once and then looks back at Misha. “OK.”

“OK?”

“Sure, OK? I’m saying OK.”

Misha crosses the small room and pushes the coffee table out of the way so he can kneel in between Jensen’s legs. He rubs the palms of his hands up and down the leather chaps and blatantly stares at Jensen’s crotch. Or rather, his left pant leg, since that’s where the outline of his dick sits.

“Damn,” Jensen says.

Misha looks up at his face.

Jensen smiles down at him fondly and reaches out to rub his thumb along his cheek. “Would’ve dressed up like a cowboy a long time ago if I’d known.”

Misha licks his lips again. “I didn’t know either. I’m gonna jerk off to the thought of you riding a horse.”

That makes Jensen tilt his head back and laugh, but then he’s right back to looking at Misha with starry eyes, and he goes ahead and hauls Misha up onto his lap and kisses him.

Misha pushes the hat off as they kiss, and Jensen whines as it thumps on the floor.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Misha whispers against Jensen’s mouth.

“You, uh. You really, uh…” He clears his throat.

“If you’re too nervous, you can tell me, Jay.”

Jensen squeezes Misha’s hips definitively. “No. I want to do it. God, I want to do it. Let’s just go before I back out.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Misha puts on the cowboy hat and grabs his keys before they sneak out of his trailer. They hold hands and run to his car like teenagers out past curfew. If anyone still hanging out around set sees them, they don’t say anything. And if anyone sees them in the parking lot making out behind a cowboy hat in the front seat of Misha’s car, they still don’t say anything. Misha speeds home and very nearly loses his shit when Jensen reaches behind himself and sticks his hand down the back of his pants.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready.”

“Do you even have lube?”

Jensen makes a face. “I’ll be OK.”

Misha drives faster.

An awkwardness settles over them by the time they make it into Misha’s apartment. They take their shoes off by the door in silence, the cowboy boots looking significantly less sexy now that Jensen’s nervous. When Misha holds his hand out for Jensen to take, there’s a moment’s hesitation and a sweatiness to his palm once they’re joined. When they get back to the bedroom, Jensen speaks.

“You’ll stop? If I ask you?”

Misha starts undressing just for something to do. “Of course. Did you really need me to answer that, or did you just need the comfort of me saying it?”

“Latter.”

“Alright, good. Now that’s out of the way, c’mere.”

Misha doesn’t wait for Jensen. He reaches out and grabs him by the hips and once again knocks the hat off to the floor. He struggles a bit with the chaps as they kiss, so Jensen backs up and removes his vest and button down and is just about to pull off his white tank top when Misha stops him.

“Keep it on,” he explains as he drags Jensen over to the bed.

They make out longer than usual, to calm Jensen’s nerves and ease him into a relaxed enough state that he hardly even reacts when Misha presses a lubed-up finger to his entrance mid-kiss. All he does is make a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat before biting Misha’s bottom lip and pushing his hips back. Misha is resting easily against the headboard and is perfectly content with a lap full of Jensen, but he knows they’re eventually going to have to move for Jensen to be comfortable.

Weirdly, after less than two minutes of pumping in and out up to the first knuckle, Jensen thrusts back and demands, “More.”

When Misha pushes his finger all the way in, Jensen arches his back and kisses Misha really fucking hard. He’s rocking the bed and sweating through his undershirt and looks so fucking hot that Misha impatiently shoves his middle finger in, too.

Jensen half-gasps, half-laughs. His whole body jerks a couple of times before he relaxes.

“That—feels—so—good,” Jensen says between bruising kisses.

“What? Really?”

Jensen nods enthusiastically.

The third finger slides in comically easily, and less than 30 seconds later Jensen says, “Cock. Now.”

Before Misha can even process what’s happening, Jensen slips off of him and reaches over to the nightstand for a condom. As Misha fumbles to put it on, Jensen flips around so his back is to Misha. Somehow the cowboy hat is back on his head.

“Reverse cowgirl? That’s really how you want to—”

Jensen sinks down onto Misha’s cock before he can finish his question.

Misha’s hands find their way to Jensen’s hips and squeeze tight. He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to his shoulder as Jensen moves around a bit in an attempt to find the angle he wants.

“You’ve done this before,” Misha whispers as his cock hits Jensen’s prostate.

“Maybe,” Jensen breathes, then, “Long time ago.” He reaches back and curls his fingers around Misha’s neck, forcing Misha to rest his chin on his shoulder.

“You feel amazing,” Misha mumbles a little incoherently.

Jensen is moving languidly in his lap, lifting and pushing himself in a circular rhythm that Misha can’t follow. It’s intoxicating.

“I’m sweating through this wife beater, man.”

“Mm.” Misha kisses his shoulder again. “Looks good on you.”

Jensen shifts his legs and sits back with a sigh. “Tired.”

Misha can’t help but laugh. “Here, I’m close anyway.”

He reaches around and grabs Jensen’s shaft, rubbing his thumb over the head before squeezing pretty hard. Jensen groans and bucks and quickens the pace, and luckily it’s only another 30 seconds before he comes all over Misha’s hand because there’s no way he would’ve been able to sustain that rhythm for much longer.

With his clean hand, Misha pushes against Jensen’s back to get him to fold over. It gives Misha a bit more leverage to work his way in and out, and he can even see his own cock from this angle. He reaches down and aides the process a bit, pulling ridiculously needy noises out of Jensen.

“Ah—I’m gonna—fuck—Jens—” Misha comes with a shout.

They don’t move for a minute or so, as is their custom after a good fuck. Misha’s a little too tired for a shower, which he says to Jensen. Surprisingly, Jensen grunts and gets up easily. He puts the cowboy hat back on his head and walks pants-less toward the bathroom. He’s not limping or clenching or anything—just walking the same way he always does. He returns a minute later looking much cleaner, completely naked save for the hat, and climbs up onto the bed with a wet towel in his hands.

“‘Jens.’ I like it,” Jensen says as he helps clean Misha off.

“What?’

“You called me ‘Jens.’”

“What?”

Jensen sighs and pulls the cowboy hat over his face. “When you came. You were trying to say my name, and…”

Misha smirks. “I didn’t finish.”

Jensen tosses his cowboy hat aside. “Well, you finished, but not my name." 

“Jens. You like that?”

“Definitely beats ‘Jen.’”

“People call you Jen?”

“They try, but I don’t let them.”

Misha grabs Jensen by the arm and pulls him over. Jensen comes easily, curling up beside Misha and running his hand along his stomach.

“But Jens is fine.”

“Mm.”

After a minute of companionable silence, Misha asks, “Are you not sore?”

Jensen huffs a laugh and tickles Misha’s side. “Why, your ego sore?”

“I know my dick isn’t…” He flails his hand uselessly. “It’s not as impressive as yours, but it’s also not nothing. You’re acting like it was nothing.”

“I don’t really—nothing’s ever really hurt...back there.”

“You wear a butt plug every day. I knew it.”

“Tried a dildo in my early 20s, did nothing for me. I always meant to try a bigger one, never got around to it.”

A beat passes. “Then why the hell were you so nervous about this?”

Jensen lifts his head off Misha’s chest and kisses him gently. “You.”

“I make you nervous?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Misha scoots down and repositions them so they’re facing each other. He places a hand on Jensen’s hip and beckons him closer.

“Do you think it’s suspicious if we drive into work together tomorrow? We’ve done it, like, five times in the past couple weeks.”

Jensen laughs lightly.

“What?”

“Just invite me to stay over, buddy. You know I’ll say yes.”

Misha rolls his eyes and scoots away so he can get up. He puts on a pair of boxer briefs and tosses some pajamas at Jensen (out of Jensen’s designated drawer) (full of clothes that are Jensen’s). He goes to the bathroom to floss and brush his teeth, and by the time he comes back Jensen is clothed and asleep under the covers.

“Goodnight, Jens,” Misha says as he crawls into bed next to him.

As he's plugging his phone in, he sees a text from Vicki that he missed earlier. 

It says, You're coming home in a couple days, right? I miss you.

Misha texts back, I just fucked Jensen.

Barely a minute passes before Vicki responds, Bout time.

He's not even in any pain. Is my dick small?

Lol

Your dick is perfectly average, babe.

Oh, great.

Hey, did it feel good?

Yeah

Then why are you complaining?

I'm not complaining.

OK, your bruised ego is showing.

Shut up. I'm in bed. Love you.

Do you at least get to be the big spoon?

I'M GOING TO SLEEP.

The next day, Jensen goes straight to wardrobe with a duffel bag in his hands. He was definitely supposed to return the cowboy get-up before the end of the day yesterday, so Misha hopes he has a believable excuse for not following the rules.

Of course, they run into Jared on their way in from the parking lot.

“We got catering from that French bakery place in town,” Jared explains with two to-go boxes in his hands. “Y’all better get there before it’s all gone.”

Jensen looks sadly down at his duffel bag then back at Misha. “Get something for me, babe?”

Misha keeps his expression neutral as he says, “Yeah.”

Jared looks between the two of them with a furrow in his brow, but then he laughs and shakes his head. “See y’all later.”

“Jensen,” Misha says once Jared is gone.

“Hmm?”

“You called me babe.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Fuck.”

It’s no use having a conversation about being more careful, so they don’t. Jensen heads off toward wardrobe and Misha goes to craft services to get his boyfriend some pastries. Their lives are fucking weird.

When they’re filming together that afternoon, Misha thinks maybe they should’ve had that conversation about being more careful. Jensen is still wearing a ridiculous cowboy costume, and Misha’s having a hard time not staring. Jared keeps asking if he’s OK, but that probably has less to do with the staring and more to do with the fact that Misha is completely unfazed by Jared’s attempts to make him break.

Jared has a line about Dean having a cowboy fetish, and that’s when Misha decides to break. Jensen glares at him, but Misha can tell he’s fighting a smile.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Jared asks Misha, sounding slightly agitated.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

Break is called before they can try the take again.

Jensen heads to a trailer presumably to use the bathroom, so Misha follows him. He looks over his shoulder as they go inside. Embarrassingly enough, Jared is standing nearby watching them. Misha pushes through the door after Jensen anyway.

“Mish? You follow me in here?”

Misha responds by kissing him earnestly. “Yes.”

Jensen looks around the empty trailer nervously. “Dude.”

“I know. I’ve got to get over this.” He tugs helplessly on Jensen’s suede overcoat.

When Misha tries to lean forward and kiss Jensen again, Jensen moves his head back. Just as Misha is about to ask what gives, the door handle clicks and Misha and Jensen jump away from each other.

“Oh. Hey,” Jared says as if he didn’t see them come in here two seconds ago.

Misha glares at him.

“I guess we all had to use the bathroom, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah, dibs,” Jensen grunts angrily before shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Leaving Jared and Misha cramped in a small space together in silence.

Misha says the only thing he can think of to change the subject. “I want a Words with Friends rematch.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this. You suck at Scrabble.”

“If you’re so sure, let’s make it interesting then. Ten bucks per point.”

“Wait, so if you lose you pay for however many points you lost by?”

Misha looks up at the ceiling. “Yes. I think.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it.

Jensen gives them a confused look as he comes out of the bathroom. They don’t explain anything to him.

The good news: the bet with Jared takes Misha’s mind off of Jensen dressed as a cowboy.

The bad news: Jared is up by 180 points after the first round.

“Misha, it’s alright. We can forget the bet,” Jared placates over breakfast.

“No, absolutely not. I can come back from this,” Misha says as he stares down at his phone.

Jared pulls out his phone in anticipation for his turn. Jensen walks up to the table and sighs loudly.

“Are y’all done yet?” he asks impatiently.

“No,” they answer in unison.

“Well, when will you be done?”

“Butt out, Jackles,” Misha replies without looking up from his phone.

“Oh, OK, somebody’s not getting any head tonight,” Jensen mutters.

“What?” Jared asks.

“He means he’s not gonna give me a blowjob tonight,” Misha answers monotonously, still looking down at his phone.

Jared huffs a laugh. “Y’all are gay.”

They don’t argue with him.

Later that morning, Jensen comes over to Misha’s trailer and they laze around on the couch for a few minutes before they’re called back to set. Misha is tucked up under Jensen’s arm with his phone in both hands.

“I mean, I went to college. He didn’t even go to college,” Misha says angrily.

“What’s that have to do with Scrabble?”

“He’s cheating. And why aren’t you on my side with this?”

“Uh, I didn’t go to college either? Gotta stick up for the non-college-educated.”

“Oh yeah, because you guys are doing so poorly for yourselves. Oh my god. He just got another huge word.”

Jensen stifles a laugh.

Misha turns his head toward him and glares.

“What?” Jensen asks defensively.

“As you yourself once said, I don’t have this kind of money to blow on bets.”

“So cancel the bet. Jared already offered you an out.”

Misha throws his phone down. “I lost.”

“How much?”

“I owe him $1,900.”

“Christ, Mish.”

“Excuse me.” He gets up and heads for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To kill myself.”

As he’s heading to wardrobe, he gets a text from Jared.

Look, obviously neither of us predicted that this would happen. I mean, I didn’t even go to college. You don’t have to give me the money.

Misha stops and looks back toward his trailer. Fucking Jensen already texted him.

I’m giving you the fucking money.

God you’re a sore loser.

Shut the fuck up.

Over the next couple of weeks, Jared repeatedly asks Misha when he’s paying him. It’s not that Misha isn’t planning on holding up his end of the deal—he’s a man of his word—but between his job and his kid and his new nonprofit and his boyfriend needing constant attention (OK maybe he’s exaggerating that last one), it takes a little bit of time for him to plan everything. It also doesn’t help that their only day off is Sunday, and banks are generally closed on Sundays.

When he finally does get around to hitting up a bank, they laugh at him when he asks for $1,900 in change.

Eventually they fork over $200.

Another week passes before he’s able to rob three more banks to come up with a total of 85,000 Canadian coins.

He has to wait for a day off to transfer the coins into Jared’s trailer, which means that four giant buckets’ worth of coins sit in his car for a full three days. Jensen keeps asking him why he can’t ride in his car with him to his apartment, but Misha knows that he can’t let Jensen know his plan. Apparently the only secret Jensen’s capable of keeping from Jared is their relationship. In any case, Misha makes up flimsy excuses for not letting Jensen in his car, so Jensen spends the week grumpy and irritated with him. Thanks a lot, Jared.

The parking lot isn’t very far from set, Misha tells himself as he hauls one 55-pound bucket from his car to Jared’s trailer. Halfway there, he has to stop and take a break. He’s sweating and breathing hard, but he manages to get the thing all the way up the steps, break his way into Jared’s trailer and dump the coins all over the floor.

For the next trip, he drives his car right up to the steps of Jared’s trailer. It takes nearly an hour to get all the coins situated where he wants them. He leaves a sticky note at the door that simply says, “Good game.”

The following morning, Misha is hunched over a cup of tea at craft services with Jensen when Jared storms in with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“My dog can’t walk in my fucking trailer, asshole,” he says loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Jensen looks at him with a crease in his brow. “What did you do?”

Misha just smiles and drinks his tea.

A bunch of people, including Jensen, follow Jared to his trailer, but Misha stays put. He doesn’t need to see the fruits of his labor. And he’s still a sore fucking loser, after all.

Less than 10 minutes later, a few people trickle back into the tent smiling and laughing as they make eye contact with Misha. Jensen resumes his place across from him and says, “He’s gonna get you back, you know.”

“Hasn’t he already done enough? I just gave him $1,900.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing that?”

Misha raises an eyebrow at him. “As if you wouldn’t have told him.”

“What? I wouldn’t’ve.”

“Sure.”

Jensen glares at him. “This why I haven’t been allowed in your car?”

“Yeah.”

“So I can come over tonight?”

Misha can’t help the grin that splits his face. It’s been more than a week since they’ve done anything, and that’s the most needy Jensen’s sounded in a while. Misha’s also going home in a couple of days, so it’s important that they spend some time together before he leaves.

At the end of the day, though, he stops by Jared’s trailer to see if he’s cleaned any coins up. But Jared isn’t there, so he finds Jensen instead and they walk to the parking lot together.

Tentatively, Misha leans in close to him and takes his hand. There are a lot of cars still left in the lot, but it’s likely crewmembers who won’t be leaving work for at least another couple of hours. It’s dark and safe and Misha isn’t exactly afraid of getting caught.

“You know, I’m, uh, counting down the days,” Jensen says shyly.

“Until what?”

“‘Til you leave. It’s tearing me up, dude.”

“Nope. You’re not allowed to get sentimental yet.”

They reach the car, so Misha turns and looks at Jensen. They stand silently for a second before Jensen looks around and then walks over to the passenger side and climbs in. Misha follows.

Before Misha can put the key in the ignition, Jensen grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses him. He doesn’t let up even after Misha asks him what the rush is. Soon enough they’re stupidly crawling into the backseat and divulging each other of clothes.

“Have you ever fucked somebody in the back of the Impala?” Misha asks as Jensen looms over him and kisses his chest and shoulders.

“When would I have ever fucked somebody in the back of the Impala, Mish?”

“Surely you’ve had sex scenes in it before though.”

“Yeah, one. But that’s not—we didn’t actually use the Imp—why are we talking about this? Why are your pants still on?”

Misha shimmies his way out of his pants and ignores Jensen’s laughter at his orange paw-print underwear. He’s not even a Clemson fan.

“This isn’t very comfortable,” Misha states as Jensen yanks his boxer briefs down and reaches for his cock.

“So come fast.”

“Can’t we just, you know, go home? Where there are beds?”

Jensen purses his lips at him.

“Oh, I get it. You were trying to be sexy and spontaneous. Thought the thrill of being in public would really do it. I see what you’re getting at.”

Jensen responds by ducking his head down and taking Misha’s tip in his mouth. Misha shuts up.

The space is cramped, and there’s no way Jensen can be comfortable, but mission still accomplished on the sexiness front. At every sound of a distant voice or a closed door, Misha’s heart jumps. The thought of somebody catch—

The driver’s side door handle pulls, but it’s locked. Jensen and Misha both pop their heads up and look out the foggy window.

On the other side, they can hear the muted sound of Jared asking, “What the fuck,” as he holds a bucket full of coins.

Chapter Text

Jensen blinks several times.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Misha chants to himself as he stares out the window and tucks his dick back into his pants.

They’re both just staring out the window.

“Um, guys,” Jared says. “Did I just—were y’all make—kiss—doing something?”

The door clicks open, and Misha scoots out into the cold. Jensen supposes he should probably follow him, but he’s still frozen to his spot. The door stays open.

“Um, we were just...um,” Misha says. 

“Misha, I swear to god if you don’t come up with an explanation that makes sense, I’m gonna lose it. I can’t even—I can’t process what I just saw.” He sets the bucket of coins on the ground at his feet.

Misha looks down at it. “What were you doing here anyway?”

“I was gonna put—no, stop. Why the fuck are you and Jensen—why are you—what the fuck is—I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Misha looks helplessly back at Jensen. Whatever he sees, it makes his eyes widen and his lips part in worry.

Jensen’s heart is beating out of his chest.

“Jensen? You wanna come out here and explain yourself?” Jared asks, a little unkindly.

Jensen barely manages to shake his head.

“We’re—Jensen and I have been...We’re together. Romantically? We’re dating, I guess.”

Jared stares at Misha, his jaw clenched.

“Jared, this isn’t exactly how we wanted to come out to you, but—”

“You’re cheating. On Vicki. On Danneel!” Jared shouts angrily.

That spurs Jensen into action. He slides out of the car and remains a respectable distance away from Misha as they both say, “No, no, no we’re not.”

“Danneel and Vicki are fully aware of what’s going on,” Misha explains patiently. “We have their permission, and actually they encourage us and egg us—”

“Mish,” Jensen chastises.

“Y’all aren’t—you’re not gay though,” Jared reasons.

Hearing the word immediately forms a pit in Jensen’s stomach. He swallows thickly.

“We’re not gay,” Misha agrees. “I would call myself bisexual, and I’m not sure how Jensen identifies. It’s possible to like both men and women, Jared.”

“No, it’s—how the fuck did this even happen? Jensen, you’re straight.”

Jensen looks over at Misha and then at Jared. “Not quite.”

“But—you—how did—how long?”

“Since Jensen’s—since last May,” Misha responds.

Jared’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, you were about to say wedding.” He gasps loudly. “Y’all were the ones in the bathroom. Oh my god, I’m gonna be sick.” He turns a stern look on Jensen. “How could you do that to Danneel, man?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen says quietly.

Misha’s head whips around real quick. Jensen doesn’t look up from the ground. He doesn’t want to see Misha’s hurt expression.

“You’re freaking him out, Jared.”

“What?” Jared asks with a laugh. “I’m freaking him out? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Misha.”

“You are,” Misha says definitively. “I get that this is a lot for you to take in, but I’m going to need you to do that on your own terms. Jensen, get in the car.”

Because Misha is so sure of himself, it’s easy for Jensen to walk around to the passenger side and slam the door shut behind him. He hopes Misha keeps telling him what to do, because he’s not sure he can do much on his own right now.

Jared and Misha shout at each other for a minute longer, but Jensen doesn’t hear any of it. When Misha sits behind the wheel, he doesn’t say anything or look over at Jensen at all before taking off.

He drives to Jensen’s apartment. They still don’t say anything.

“I’ll have Vicki talk to him,” Misha says somberly once he’s parked outside of Jensen’s apartment.

“What? Why?”

“She’ll make him understand. That’s all this is, is a misunderstanding.”

“This is a huge mistake.”

“What? What’s a huge mistake, Jensen?”

“You and me. This isn’t—we should’ve never—I can’t believe I…I…”

“Jensen. Look at me.”

Again, Misha’s tone brooks no room for argument. It’s easy to obey.

“Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing we are doing is wrong. No matter what Jared says about it, it is possible to like both men and women, and it's possible to be in a relationship with more than one person. Jared is your best friend, and he will understand what’s going on between us. He won’t be upset with you. Nobody is upset with you or thinks what you’re—we’re doing is bad.”

Jensen nods.

Misha grabs him behind the neck and kisses him firmly on the forehead. “Go inside. Get some rest. Don’t think about this, promise?”

“Promise,” he replies childishly.

"Do I need to come inside with you?"

Jensen shakes his head. "I don't think...I don't know if it's a good idea to..."

Misha leans back in his seat and looks straight ahead. His fingers drum against his thigh. "I hope you sleep well. I don't want to leave you, but I understand. I think. Goodnight, Jensen."

"Night, Mish."

He barely sleeps, but he tries. He tries because Misha told him to.

The next morning, he has a text from Jared.

I’m sorry I freaked out last night. Let’s talk today.

Jensen types back a simple, OK.

A few seconds later, he receives a text from Misha.

I hope you’re feeling better this morning. You should call Danneel before work.

He immediately calls Danneel.

“Hey, babe,” she answers on the second ring. “I was just about to call you. You on your way to work?”

“Uh, getting ready. Why were you about to call me?”

“Misha texted me, said you might need to talk to me. What’s up?”

“I, uh. I don’t know.”

“Uh-oh. What are you panicking about?”

“Jared caught us last night,” he blurts out.

“Caught—you and Misha, you mean?”

He grunts an affirmation.

“Ah, so you’re freaking out because he now thinks you’re gay. You think he’ll treat you differently? Or think less of you? Is that it?”

“No. I don’t think—he’ll think it’s weird. He won’t be comfortable with it. And I just...What am I thinking? I’m not gay. I don’t like men, and I’m married to you. What the hell am I doing with Misha?”

Danneel sighs loudly into the phone. “You love him, Jens. He does nothing but take care of you and make you laugh, plus you’re so attracted to him that you spent a full five minutes describing his haircut to me one day. You’re not broken just because you like a man.”

“OK.”

“Jensen.”

“OK! I’ll—try to calm down, alright? I’m gonna talk to Jared.”

“And no rash decisions in the meantime. No breakups.”

Jensen grinds his teeth together. “Fine.”

“Good. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

She must’ve talked to Misha at some point, but he’s not about to ask either of them if that’s the case.

When he gets picked up half an hour later, his driver barely says “hello” before recognizing his sour mood and not saying anything else for the entire trip. Jensen’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest he has an irrational fear that it’s audible.

Once he’s on set, he stalks off to his trailer and is feeling a bit calmer as he’s opening the door. But then there’s Jared sitting on his couch waiting for him and Jensen might puke.

They look at each other for a second.

“So, uh, I don’t want to talk about this,” Jared says quickly. “It freaks me the fuck out, and it’s awkward, but we gotta talk about it so let’s just get it over with.”

Jensen sits in an armchair across from Jared. “I’m not gay.”

“But you’re…”

Jensen waits.

Jared shifts and accidentally knocks his knee into the coffee table. “C’mon, man, don’t make me say it.”

Jensen knows if Jared talked like this to Misha, Misha might get a little upset. He might not show it, but he’d definitely be upset. As it happens, though, Jensen is not Misha and he totally understands Jared’s reaction. He wasn’t expecting anything else from him, so it’s actually comforting not to be surprised.

“Don’t make me say it either! Jesus,” Jensen replies petulantly.

“Misha—you and Misha—you guys—y’all…”

“OK. Let’s, uh, think about this. Misha—he and his wife, they date other people.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Jensen groans loudly and scrubs a hand down his face. Is this what it was like when Misha tried to explain this shit to me?

“Are you telling me Danneel knows about this?”

“Of course she knows about it, dumbass. You really think I’d cheat on my wife? Really. You know me, man, come on.”

“Well I thought I did, but apparently I don’t!” Jared ducks his chin to calm himself down. “Are you like Misha? Bisexual or whatever?”

“Yeah. ‘Or whatever.’”

“Stop. I want you to answer for real.”

Jensen glares at him. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t think about…”

“About what?”

“Anybody other than Danneel and Misha, OK? I don’t think about anybody else. They’re it.”

“Oh, so they’re the only two people on earth you’re attracted to, is that it?”

“Yeah,” he answers, surprising even himself.

“OK, so what happens if another girl—er, guy—shows up like Misha did? Then it’ll be three? Four? What’s the limit here?”

Jensen runs his hands up and down his thighs. “When I was just with Danneel, I still saw other women. Not like—I mean, I noticed them. Attracted to them. But then, uh, then I started seeing Misha and it was like...I don’t know, like a missing piece. Being with him makes me more attracted to Danneel. Less attracted to everybody else.”

It’s something he didn’t realize himself until it’s coming out of his mouth. He’s not really even thinking about Jared anymore.

“You said it,” Jared says quietly.

“What?”

“You said you were, uh, with him. Are you in love with him?”

Jensen looks down at his hands and absentmindedly twists his wedding ring around his finger. “No. I’m not.”

“But you could be? One day?”

“What are you getting at, Jared?”

“You’re not just—just sleeping together?”

In a moment of insanity, Jensen grins and looks at the couch. “I mean, we sleep together plenty.” He nods toward the couch.

“Oh!” Jared jumps off the couch and wipes his hands down the back of his jeans. “Gross! Goddamn it, Stack.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he mumbles.

Jared plants his hands on his hips. “This is never not gonna be weird for me, alright?”

“Join the fucking club.”

“It might take me a long time to warm up to the idea, so can y’all just…”

“Suck face right in front of you? Sure.”

“Oh my god, you’re turning into him. How have I not noticed?”

Warmth blooms in Jensen’s chest. He buries it. “You don’t want us to be weird around you. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, I don’t want to be—I don’t get it, but as long as Vicki and Danneel are cool with it then I guess I’ll get over it. It’s just weird.”

“So us being married? That’s what’s weird to you?”

“Well, yeah, duh.”

“No, I mean—if he and I were just a couple—” he stops in order to cringe, “—and we weren’t married to other people, would it still be weird?”

“Are you asking me if I’m OK with you, um, not being straight?”

Jensen nods.

“I think so. I’m worried that you’re just—I don’t know, figuring this shit out? How do you know you’re not gay? What if you wake up one day and realize you’re not attracted to Danneel?”

Jensen blinks at him.

“OK. Alright, so that’s probably not gonna happen. But I just don’t get how you can be attracted to two different people of different genders at the same time.”

“I don’t get it either, dude. We’re in the same fucking boat here. All I’m asking is that you’re not a dick about it. So are we good or not?”

“Geez, yeah, we’re good.” He stands and bumps his shin into the coffee table on his way to the door. “I don’t have to like this, do I?”

“I don’t care what you do. I’d prefer it if we pretend this never happened.”

“Deal.”

Jared moves to hug Jensen before he leaves, but he stops short.

“Is it weird if I—" 

“Dude, come on, it’s me,” Jensen says impatiently as he yanks Jared down for a hug. He gives him a hard couple pats on the back. “Nothing’s changed.”

Jared scoffs at that, but it’s with a laugh. “You know, when I heard the rumors I thought everybody had just gone insane.”

“Right, yeah. A lot of people know, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t confirm anything. Oh, but I am telling Gen.”

“Dee will probably beat you to it, but OK.”

Jared just kind of looks at him for a minute. Like he's trying to get used to this new Jensen he just met. Ugh.

"Oh, fuck," Jensen says suddenly.

"What? What's wrong?"

Jensen scrubs a hand down his face. "Nothing, just, uh. I owe Misha 200 bucks."

"Oh my god, you guys bet on me? Are you kidding me?"

"I can't believe Mish apparently knows you better than I do."

"Fuck you guys, seriously."

When Jensen opens the door for Jared to leave, he’s surprised to find Misha coming up the steps.

“Oh. Am I interrupting something?” he asks awkwardly as he looks between the two of them.

“Nope, we’re done,” Jared answers. He squeezes Misha’s shoulder as he passes him. “Let me get out of y’all’s way. Far, far out of your way.”

Misha’s eyes widen in surprise as he smiles at Jensen. Once Jared is gone, he climbs the rest of the steps and follows Jensen inside.

“You feel better?” Misha asks sweetly.

“Yeah. Uh, I think so.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think Jared will ever get it, but neither will I, so it’s fine.”

Misha’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, man, he’s never gonna—”

“No, not Jared.” He takes a step forward into Jensen’s personal space and looks up at him curiously. “You. What don’t you understand?”

“Uh, pretty much all of this.” He waves his finger between them. “I don’t want to think about my—sexuality or whatever. I don’t want to think about the fact that I’m in two relationships at the same time. I don’t want to think about any of it.”

“Are you ashamed?”

Jensen backs up and goes to sit in the armchair again. Misha follows and takes a seat on the fucking coffee table so he’s still in Jensen’s personal space.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Jensen answers honestly. “I’ve been hiding the fact that I, uh, like men my whole life, that’s not gonna change overnight.”

“You feel like you’ve been hiding it? Really?”

Jensen takes a moment to think about it, despite how uncomfortable it makes him to think about it. “No. I’ve only been, uh, attracted to a handful of guys in 20 years.”

A smirk curls Misha’s lips. “What an honor.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You do realize now that Jared knows, everyone knows?”

“No, he said he wouldn't—fuck, you're right."

“Baby, everybody knew anyway." Misha leans forward and rubs his hand soothingly against Jensen's thigh. "Jared was the last to find out. It’s OK.”

“So you saying we can walk on set hand-in-hand and nobody will care?”

Misha raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, why don’t we try?”

They make it a full two steps out of the trailer before Jensen snatches his hand away and tells Misha he can’t fucking do it.

Misha laughs so hard at him that tears form in his eyes.

Soon after they leave hair and makeup, Misha is carted off to do ADR while Jensen has to film a car scene with Jared. Just what he needs, to be stuck in the Impala with Jared for the next four hours.

But Jared turns out to be in a pretty serious mood, so he doesn’t act up while they’re filming and hardly talks at all in the downtime. One of the camera guys near the windshield keeps giving Jensen a curious look as if to ask what’s up with Jared, and Jensen shrugs in response.

“You OK, man?” Jensen eventually asks as Jared is scrolling through his phone.

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Actually, you know what.” He puts his phone down and shifts in his seat so he’s facing Jensen head-on. “Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“What?”

“I found out by accident. Obviously. So were you ever planning on telling me?”

Jensen peers around at all the nearby technicians. They’re all busy. “We’d talked about it, sure.”

“Who? You and Mi—”

“Yes, dumbass. This isn’t—we don’t need this being public knowledge, alright?”

“I’m not asking about public knowledge, though, I’m asking about me, your best—”

“Jared. I would’ve told you. Eventually. I just…”

“You just what?”

“Didn’t know how. Still don’t know how. It was easier to bet on how long it would take you to find out. You pissed?”

“I don’t know. We’ve just—we’ve known each other a long time, dude. It’s weird that I didn’t know this about you.”

“It hasn’t exactly been relevant. I’m barely even…” He looks around and then drops his voice low, “Attracted to guys.”

“So you wouldn’t even say you’re bisexual or whatever Misha says he is?”

“Can we have this conversation some other time?”

Jared rolls his eyes but complies. “Yeah, whatever. I just don’t want you to think you couldn’t tell me.”

Jensen bites his tongue. He doesn’t really feel like getting in a fight with Jared over the vaguely homophobic shit he’s said over the years and the way he handled finding out just last night. It’s not like Jared meant any of it. Hell, Jensen’s even participated in it himself. They’re both assholes, so what’s the point of hashing it out.

“I would’ve told you,” Jensen says quietly, a little gentler than before. “You know I tell you everything.”

“Alright. Well. Good.” He clears his throat. “Except I don’t want to know everything. If you ever bring up, uh, you know, then I’ll never speak to you again.”

"Bring up what?” Jensen asks smugly.

“Shut up, you know what I’m talking about.”

Jensen grins as a blush creeps up Jared’s neck. “So it’s fine when you make people uncomfortable, but not so much the other way around?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m not—it’s not serious when I do it. It’s not real. I don’t want to think about real things happening.”

“Hmm. Alright.”

A long pause passes before Jared asks, “So that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re good?”

“Yeah.”

A few takes later, Jared sticks a straw up Jensen’s nose while he’s monologuing, and everything feels like it’s back to normal.

Chapter Text

Jensen blinks awake with a wince. His head is pounding, but he knows he can’t quite reach the Ibuprofen sitting on the nightstand. He tries to lie completely still to see if the pressure in his head will lessen.

Blunt fingernails dance their way up his bare hip and settle on his chest. It sends a shiver down his spine, which he hopes Misha doesn’t notice.

“I’m gonna miss this the most,” Misha whispers sincerely, his chin propped up in his free hand. “I mean, besides the part where you’re hungover.”

Jensen rubs sleep from his eyes and then lets his arm drop around Misha’s back. He scratches his fingers against his skin. “Did you...speak in an accent last night?”

Misha drops his forehead to Jensen’s chest as he laughs. “Oh my god. You said it was the best I’ve ever been, and you don’t even remember it.”

“What? I said that?”

“Repeatedly. You got really hung up on my stupid fake accent.”

“Which one?”

“Indiarussian,” Misha replies in his stupid Indiarussian accent.

Jensen’s fingers involuntarily squeeze against his back.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jens?”

Jensen manages a weak shrug.

Misha sighs and scoots himself to the edge of the bed. Before he gets up, though, Jensen whines. Misha turns back toward him with a judgmental look on his face.

Jensen reaches a hand out.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Misha mumbles as he reluctantly bends back over and kisses Jensen squarely on the mouth.

“Mm,” Jensen says in surprise as he wraps his arms lazily around Misha’s back and all but forces Misha to reposition himself on top of him.

“This is completely unfair,” Misha complains as he works on kissing every inch of Jensen’s neck. “You shouldn’t be allowed to sleep naked next to me when we’re under a time crunch.”

“Convention’s not ‘til 9.” Jensen pulls Misha’s face up and kisses him hard. “And you’re the one who took my damn clothes off.”

“Oh, so you do remember last night?” Misha asks in that stupid accent.

“No. Maybe. Fuck you.” He kisses him again, yanking at his hair as he does so.

“Jared was good last night,” Misha says as he goes back to Jensen’s neck and maybe even to his shoulders a little bit.

“Oh, at dinner? Yeah.” He clears his throat and arches up into Misha’s touch. “Least awkward he’s been in a while.”

“With you and me, definitely. Does he know that I’m not coming back next year?”

That kills Jensen’s boner real quick. “No. We should tell him before he gets the pages.”

“It’ll be coming up soon. Maybe I’ll bring it up to him this weekend. Or—I don't know, it might be easier if he just finds out from someone else.”

Jensen sighs and moves his hands away from Misha’s hips.

Misha lifts his head and squints down at Jensen. “I killed the mood, didn’t I?”

“Little bit.”

“I guess we should get going anyway.” He kisses Jensen’s forehead before getting up. He’s still hard, and Jensen’s not above staring. “Should we keep up pretense around Jared? Not go down to the lobby together?”

“Hmm?”

Misha plants his hands on his hips, boxer briefs now covering his junk but not hiding his morning wood. “Jensen. My eyes are up here.”

“I know.” He rolls over and grabs the Ibuprofen. “You can have the shower first.”

“Can’t believe you ever thought you were straight,” Misha mutters as he heads toward the bathroom.

While he’s popping Ibuprofen, Jensen checks his phone.

Where’d you and Misha disappear to?

Wait, don’t answer that.

I’m drunk.

Do y’all even have separate rooms?

Oh I guess you’d have to so the hotel staff doesn’t get suspicious.

Even though they didn’t seem to recognize us. They probably don’t watch the show, so it probably wouldn’t’ve mattered. But I guess you gotta be careful anyway.

Why am I talking about this

Gen thinks I shouldn't talk about it. She says I'm too weird about it. 

She and D talk about y'all just fyi. Like, all the time now that Gen's "in the know."

Jensen huffs a laugh as he types out a response. None of your business where I sleep.

Jared texts back within the next two minutes. So when I just came by your door and knocked and you didn’t answer, that’s because you were sleeping soundly and not because you weren’t there?

Oops

I can’t believe y’all do this shit at CONVENTIONS and I’ve never noticed. How fucking dumb am I.

Pretty dumb actually

I hate you

When Misha comes out of the bathroom a couple minutes later with messy wet hair and a towel slung low around his hips, Jensen jumps right on helping him with that pesky morning wood that won’t seem to go away.

Half an hour later, the driver waiting outside their hotel looks just a little perturbed at their tardiness.

Once they get to the convention hotel, they part immediately without even saying anything to each other. They’ve gotten to the point where their working relationship is easy; there’s no reason to get offended when they don’t have time for a fucking kiss goodbye. Jensen thinks they’re pretty great at keeping their relationship private, even if Misha swears that everybody on the Internet has them figured out.

After a panel with Jared and some autographs, Jensen feels a little antsy. He keeps looking at his watch as if willing time to move faster so that he and Misha can get back to the sanctuary of their hotel room.

“Dude, chill,” Jared says as they stand next to each other in the green room.

“What? I’m fine,” Jensen responds, pouring himself a cup of coffee and very nearly missing his cup.

“Is it because Misha’s doing a panel with Sebastian?” Jared whispers conspiratorially.

“I thought we weren’t talking about this.”

“It is! You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You are though.”

Jensen glares at him.

Jared laughs and walks off.

Jensen checks his watch again.

It's almost time for his solo panel, so maybe he can head over to the ballroom a little early. He makes his way backstage and plans on hanging out and scrolling through his phone until he's called up, but he can't help but listen to Sebastian and Misha's panel.

It only takes a couple minutes for Jensen to hear the annoyance in Misha's tone. He sounds tired and impatient, right on the edge of snapping at someone. Jensen immediately pockets his phone and goes back out into the hallway.

A few people notice him when he sneaks back in through a different door, but he puts his finger up to his lips and they stay quiet enough that Misha and Sebastian don’t notice him. He cuts in line for the microphone and waits.

“Eh, excuse me,” Jensen eventually says in something close to a Russian accent. “Hello. Question for, uh, the, Misha. What do you like to, uh…” He changes his mind. “Where do you go to sleep at night?”

“I’m sorry,” Misha says with a nervous laugh. “Your accent’s a little thick. Uh...Where, or with whom?”

“Where do you like to sleep!” Jensen yells over him. They have to keep the bit going so as not to incriminate themselves. But Jensen maybe didn’t think this one all the way through before he started.

“Who do I like to sleep with?”

Goddamn it, Misha.

“I apologize,” Jensen says, softer this time. “When sleep, what—” Sebastian and Misha are looking at each other and laughing. “Hello.” Jensen waits until Misha’s attention is back on him. “Let’s start over, yes?” Just as he’s thinking of how to dig his way out of this hole, Misha winks at him and he breaks. “Oh, shit,” he says, dropping the accent.

The crowd cheers as he makes his way onstage, but he keeps his eyes on Misha. As he approaches, Misha meets him halfway, reaches a hand out to him and they do a little side-hug. Sebastian comes up for a hug, too, so Jensen gives him a halfhearted pat on the back before returning his attention to Misha.

Misha doesn’t exactly offer his microphone, but Jensen takes it out of his hand anyway. 

“Uh. Hello,” Jensen says, finally facing the crowd.

He immediately turns back to Misha, who now has a small smile on his face.

“Your voice changed,” Misha says.

“Yeah. I don’t know who that guy was. What an idiot.” He turns to Misha again. “Hi.”

They look at each other.

“How’s it going so far?” Jensen continues. “Are you guys enjoying the panel?” He gestures toward the audience as Misha tries to whisper something in his ear.

As Jensen acknowledges Sebastian’s existence by asking him a question, Misha steals the mic out of his hand and tells him he got the first laugh of the morning from the audience.

Oh. That’s probably why Misha looks stressed.

As they go over to the drink table, Jensen drops the mic by his side and whispers, “You OK?”

“Yeah. Sebastian is driving me up the fucking wall.”

Jensen chokes back a laugh and doesn’t say anything else.

Jared was wrong; Jensen is definitely not jealous of Sebastian. 

Later that evening, Jensen trudges into the green room with a yawn and heads straight for the booze. He’s been drinking all day, but so far he hasn’t felt drunk enough to stay awake.

“...Like I wasn’t even there. It was awkward for everyone,” a distinctly British voice is saying at the other end of the room.

Jensen turns and spots Sebastian standing with Richard on the opposite end of the room. He glances around at the other people mingling with one another before stalking over to Sebastian and Rich.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Sebastian says, turning toward Jensen to let him into their conversation. “Were your ears burning?”

“Yeah, what is it?"

“Sebastian was just telling me how you crashed his and Misha’s panel today,” Richard says. “He felt a little left out when you only talked to Misha.” He levels Jensen with a look that says he suspects exactly what’s going on here.

“Well, I do like Misha better, so.” He shrugs to complete his sentence.

Richard’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Ugh, the two of you should go ahead and get a room already,” Sebastian says in disgust.

Jensen winks at Richard.

His eyebrows can’t go any higher, so his mouth opens instead.

“Well, uh, sorry I ignored you, buddy,” Jensen says facetiously with a pat to Sebastian’s back. “Either of you guys know where Mish is?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sebastian answers while Richard laughs.

“No? Alright, see y’all later.”

He ignores the way his heart is pounding in his chest as he heads for the door. Why he’s putting himself in situations where his relationship with Misha is exposed, he’s not sure.

“Hey, Jensen, wait up,” Richard says from behind him.

He slows a little bit, enough for Richard to jog up next to him. There are a couple of handlers a few paces behind them, so Richard whispers.

“You and Misha are...supposed to be keeping this a secret, right?"

Jensen turns a skeptical look on him and then directs his eyes to the handlers. He gives them a look, and they give him and Richard a little more space. 

"How serious is it?” Richard asks.

“How serious is what?”

“Ackles.”

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing. But it’s not something we’re advertising to the masses.”

“Except when you ask him at a panel who he sleeps with.”

“Oh, come on, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Richard shakes his head and laughs.

“What?”

“You think you’re so subtle. I knew it, like, the day I met you two.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Does Jared know?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“OK, so you’re not keeping it a total secret.”

Jensen turns and plants himself, forcing Richard and the handlers to stop walking.

“Can you try not to be a dick about this, please? It’s awkward enough as is,” Jensen says seriously.

“Right. Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Um. Misha should be finishing up with ops soon. I’ll see you later, Jensen.”

Jensen is sure to thank him for the information before they part ways. He then turns to his handler to find out where he’s supposed to go next. Even though he’d love to blow off the convention and go find Misha, that’s not really what he’s supposed to do. Still a long evening ahead of him until he can get back to that hotel room.

The thing is, he loves Rome. He loves this convention each year, even if there is a bit more work involved than there is at other conventions. He thinks he’d love visiting Rome on vacation sometime, too. He and Misha could get wine drunk at a fancy restaurant and then walk around the city a bit. Visit the Colosseum. Or stay in bed all day, order room service. Realizing the mistake in his fantasy, he tries to picture Danneel there, too. Somehow she doesn’t quite fit. Something about Rome—it’s like it was meant just for him and Misha.

By the time the day’s events are over, Jensen feels dead on his feet. He musters up enough energy to go to dinner with everyone, but he mostly stays quiet, drinks his wine and sits a little too close to Misha. At one point while laughing at Jared, Misha grabs Jensen’s knee and lets his hand stay there. Jensen looks at him, but Misha doesn’t look back.

With a yawn, Jensen covers Misha’s hand with his own and locks their fingers together. Rob is sitting to Jensen’s left and can definitely see their hands. Jensen’s heart beats steady in his chest.

Later, while Jensen and Misha ride the elevator up to their hotel room, Misha puts his hands on Jensen’s shoulders and gives him a light massage. Jensen leans back into the touch and could probably fall asleep on his feet if they were on the elevator long enough.

“I guess you’re warming up to the idea of people knowing?” Misha asks quietly.

“Mm.”

“It might not matter soon anyway.”

That wakes Jensen up. “What?”

“When I’m not around. I don’t know if I’ll go to anymore conventions after San Diego.”

The elevator opens, and Misha drops his hands. As they walk to the room, Jensen asks, “Can we not think about that tonight? I’m beat.”

In the privacy of the hotel room, Misha tells Jensen that he’ll do anything to take his mind off of it.

Jensen says, “We should go on a vacation to Rome together.”

“We’re in Rome, Jens.”

They crawl into bed half-clothed. Misha instinctively knows what Jensen wants and scoops him up to spoon him. He buries his face against his neck and nuzzles him, his breath hot against Jensen’s skin.

“I just love being here with you. I love you,” Jensen says, already half-asleep.

"Go to sleep, babe."

Jensen strokes his hand across Misha's forearm. “Remember our first date?” 

“You mean, like, taking a nap in your trailer? We did that all the time, there’s no way I could remember the first time," Misha replies.

“No, that’s not —I mean that New Age restaurant you took me to, when you made me eat all that nasty food.”

“Oh.” Misha huffs a laugh against the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize that was a date.”

“Well, it was, and. And I think that’s when I realized I hated you but also loved you a little bit.”

“That’s very sweet. Especially since I did that to you just to fuck with you.”

“No, you didn’t. Vicki even said you used to do that on dates with her."

Misha hums. "Yeah, true. I was trying to win you over."

"Well. It worked."

Jensen falls asleep.

The next morning, they lie on their sides facing each other in bed for a few too many minutes and whisper about how they have a panel together for the first time ever. 

"You better not flirt with me," Jensen says with a pinch to Misha's nipple.

"You know I can't make that promise."

Jensen huffs and swats Misha's side.

Misha grabs him by the hip and pulls him forward. "I bet you'll flirt with me first."

"No, I don't make bets with you anymore."

"Sore loser."

"Yes, I am."

Misha smiles sweetly at him, and Jensen can feel a blush rising up his neck. He tries not to smile back and fails. Misha smiles even wider and leans in for a chaste kiss.

When they pull away, Jensen says, "God, I hope we don't do anything stupid in front of a hundred people."

"Jensen, please. It's more like 500 people."

Jensen is taking a stuffed animal right out of Misha's hands and thanking him for it when he realizes that he couldn't even make it two minutes without flirting. Misha was supposed to give it to "whomever we like best." 

Good thing he didn't take that bet.

To be fair, though, as Misha explained the instructions, he paused and held the stuffed rhino out to Jensen. So, technically he started it. 

"Is that a rhino on your leg, or..."

Misha doesn't respond.

Jensen huffs a nervous laugh and says, "Really, nothing? Nothing? I mean, I just kind of teed that one up for you. No?"

Misha pointedly does not look at him. Christ, he's actually trying to keep the promise. 

"Should we just sit here and enjoy the silence?" Jensen tries.

"It's just kind of nice to sit here with you...and not have to talk," Misha replies sweetly.

The audience "aww's," and Jensen tries to control his jumbled, embarrassed thoughts. This is going about as smoothly as he thought it would.

Five minutes in, Jensen is telling a story about doing a scene straight-faced while Jared had his hand between his legs. Misha gets up to demonstrate, so Jensen of course reaches his hand between Misha's legs and gets up near his inseam before remembering himself and stepping away.

Still going well.

"I mean, literally Jared will be, you know, grabbing Jensen's balls, and Jensen won't crack at all," Misha is saying. "And all Jensen has to do to me is—" He drops the mic and raises his eyebrows. "And I'm out. I'm done."

Jensen has the insane thought that Misha didn't do a good enough job imitating him, so Jensen goes ahead and explains it himself. Suddenly he's making seductive faces at the crowd and saying, "Hey, big boy," and he thinks this is probably a mistake but it's too late to back out now. 

Fortunately, he has the foresight not to mention the part where they made out in a utility closet during their next 10 while Misha complained between kisses that if Jensen keeps doing that, Misha's going to pop an embarrassing boner right in front of everyone. 

A couple of innocent questions later, a guy asks them to do a scene from a famous movie and Jensen gestures for the scripts to be brought to them.

"Oh, I wanna be Sally!" Misha exclaims before Jensen's even seen the script. After a pause, he says, "This we can do."

"This we can do," Jensen agrees.

There's an awkward pause before Misha says, "Wait a minute," and turns his chair to face Jensen's head on.

As Misha grabs a terrified audience member and bounces around the stage excitedly to set the scene, Jensen remembers a conversation they had a while ago. They were talking about movies and how Misha didn't really have access to much as a kid, but one of the only VHS's he had in high school was When Harry Met Sally. He said he's seen it at least a dozen times. No wonder he's so stupidly excited. 

Right before Jensen reads his first line, it dawns on him. He can't fucking do this. He can't watch his...Misha fake an orgasm onstage in front of hundreds of people. Shit.

He scrambles for an idea and remembers Misha's dumb Indiarussian accent. No, that'll make him laugh too hard. He settles on New York Jewish man and gets to work.

At the start of Misha's first moan, Jensen looks down at his own script and wonders how much he needs to stay in character at this point. He can't quite remember Billy Crystal's reaction in the movie, so he's not entirely sure how he's supposed to play this. By Misha's third moan, Jensen realizes he doesn't need to act at all. Shit.

It's silly and ridiculous and overly dramatic, but Misha is still doing things and making noises that he actually makes in bed, and Jensen sends up a silent prayer that his dick will stay calm. 

When they're done, he walks over to the upstage table and faces away from the crowd. Stay down, stay down, stay down. He picks up the extra chair that the girl from the crowd was sitting in and keeps it positioned over his crotch as he walks it stage left. 

On a whim, he throws the stuffed rhino over to the guy who gave them the scripts. 

If Jensen wasn't a person that embarrasses so easily, he would ask Misha later for a little Sally roleplaying. Maybe later. Way, way later. 

When their panel concludes half an hour later, they head backstage together and Jensen slaps Misha hard on the ass.

"Hey!" Misha protests as he grabs his ass.

"You flirted."

"I told you I couldn't keep that promise."

"Yeah, well, you could've tried a little harder, Sally."

Misha smiles slyly at him. "Oh, yeah? Harder like your chubby?"

Jensen rolls his eyes and barely notices in time that Misha has stepped into his personal space and is leaning in for a kiss. It's a quick peck, but still not totally safe in their current position.

"Jesus, Mish, there are people back here," Jensen whispers nervously as he looks around.

"Sorry. I wanted to do that for the past hour." He winks. "By the way, that hat is fucking stupid. I'll see you later, Harry."

The week after Rome, Misha isn’t slated to film. Danneel visits Jensen for a couple of days and laughs at him when he tells her she’s not in his Rome fantasy. After she leaves, he spends the rest of the week sulking.

“Aw, it’s tough being you, huh?” Jared teases over breakfast one morning. “You’re so used to having two people doting on you all the time, you don’t know what to do when neither of them are around.”

“Fuck.” Jensen runs both hands through his hair and looks up at the ceiling of the tent. “I hate that you’re right.”

Jared laughs so hard that crewmembers at other tables look over at them. Jensen rolls his eyes and takes his empty plate to the garbage. He hasn’t quite decided yet whether he likes Jared knowing.

It’s a slow morning, so Jensen spends most of it silently brooding to himself. If anybody asks, he can just say he’s getting into character. While he’s sitting in his trailer at lunch, there’s a loud knock on his door.

Surprisingly, it’s Sera on the other side. He schools his expression into something less broody, more neutral, and lets her inside. She doesn’t sit.

“I just came from Jared’s trailer and that was a lot for me to handle, so I’m just going to cut right to the chase here,” she says in a clipped tone. “You’ve read the finale?”

He nods and folds his arms across his chest.

“So you’ve probably surmised what might happen in season seven then?”

“I just say my lines and look pretty, y'all don’t pay me to know what's going on.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “We’re killing off Castiel. I wanted to tell you and Jared myself since I know Misha is a good friend of—”

“First episode?”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Are you going to kill him during the first episode of season seven?”

“That’s the plan.”

“OK.” He nods once and unfolds his arms. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“That’s it?”

“Mish already told me, Sera.”

“He did. He wasn’t supposed to.”

“What are you gonna do, fire him?”

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Bye, Sera.”

He doesn’t show her to the door.

Less than a minute after she leaves, the door forcefully swings open and Jared barges in.

“You had to have known about this,” he says angrily.

“Uh, yeah.” Jensen falls back onto the couch and lets his body sink into it. “I was hiding—I was in Misha’s trailer when Sera came by to tell him.”

“And when the hell was that?”

“I don’t know, man. A couple months ago?”

“You’ve known for that long and didn’t tell me?” Jared shouts.

Jensen pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Mish wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. And how was I supposed to tell you? ‘I overheard Sera telling Misha he’s not coming back next year. We were dry humping in his trailer when she came by.’”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you should’ve told me. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Jared paces around the small space, fuming. If Jensen had known he’d react this strongly, he might’ve prepared himself better in the past couple months. As it stands, he’s got nothing.

“How could they do this? I’m so sick of everyone being killed off on this stupid show,” Jared continues. “What’s Misha gonna do? I mean, I know he’s got GISHWHES coming up, but how’s he gonna make money? Do you think he’s made enough from the show to get West through school? Thank god we're in syndication now. I mean—”

“Jared,” Jensen interrupts.

Jared stops and looks at him, his face a hard line.

“It’s gonna be OK,” he lies.

“No, it’s not. And you know it’s not.” He drops into an armchair and looks at the coffee table, but his eyes are moving quickly back and forth. “They’re making a huge mistake. This is a huge mistake.”

“I said the same thing.”

Jared looks at him with a frown and a crease between his brow. “You’ve accepted it though.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to do? We don’t really get a say in what Sera does, dude.”

“What if we refused to film season seven?”

“What?”

“They can’t do the show without us. What if we just…”

“Break our contracts? Lose our jobs and burn every bridge we’ve made in the past six years? Make it impossible to get hired ever again?”

Jared drags his front teeth across his bottom lip. “OK. What, so—so we just—we just let this happen?”

“Misha will be fine. There’s nothing we can do.”

They don’t talk for a minute. Jared taps his index finger lightly on the armrest.

“What are you gonna do about...you know, your thing with him?”

Jensen refrains from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “We’re trying not to think about it.”

“Well, uh. If you, um. If you need, uh. If you…”

“Jesus, you’re worse at this than I am. Get the hell out of here. I’ll see you later.”

With a vigorous nod, Jared says his goodbyes and bolts out of the trailer.

Jensen drops his face into his hands and stays still for probably a solid minute. This is real. Misha is really leaving. One episode of season seven. One week of filming.

Jensen takes a deep breath.

The following weeks fly by just as Jensen expected them to. He and Misha spend even more time together than before, which seems impossible considering they already spend so much time together. Jared doesn’t even complain about it, although he does join them most afternoons and evenings and then politely excuses himself whenever the tension in the room shifts.

Weirdly, their sex life changes despite the fact that they’ve only had a sex life for a few months now. It’s quieter, less rushed, less intense but somehow more intimate and more deeply satisfying. When Jensen talked to Danneel about it, he could tell she was trying not to laugh but he didn’t call her out on it. She actually thought it was a good thing, that they were expressing their feelings without having to say anything. He gagged.

But, also, she was right. They sucked at talking. Fucking, though, they were pretty good at.

By the night of the season six wrap party, Jensen had come to terms with their situation. They had an expiration date, and he was at peace with it.

“Misha, come on! Let’s fucking do this,” Jared shouts from his drunken stupor on the floor of his trailer.

They’d moved the coffee table and couch out of the way so they could wrestle on the soft carpet. So far, Jensen had won a match against Jared by getting him flat on his stomach and lying on top of him and choking him out, and then Jared had declared they needed a drink break before the next round. He didn’t tell them who was participating in the next round until he called Misha to the floor.

Misha looks at Jensen and raises his eyebrows in annoyance as he hands him his beer.

“Good luck, babe,” Jensen says, deadpan.

“Hey, no!” Jared yells, jabbing a finger toward Jensen. “No. No gay stuff. Only wrestling.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s totally not gay,” Jensen says.

Jared hiccups and focuses his attention on Misha. They’re facing each other on their knees with their hands up like they’re about to claw each other. It looks ridiculous.

“OK, ready, go!” Jared announces as he pounces on Misha.

Misha lets out an undignified squawk before gaining his bearings and slipping out of Jared’s hold. Misha is much better on his knees than on his back (heh), so he tries to keep the fight upright for as long as possible. Eventually, though, Jared tackles him so Misha wraps his thighs around Jared’s ribcage and hooks his ankles behind his back. Jared reaches down and grabs the lapels of his shirt, so Misha reaches up and does the same.

“Oh fuck,” Jared says as he tries to sit back on his heels. “Dude, fuck. You’re—I can feel my ribs about to cave in.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” Jensen says casually from the couch. “Imagine feeling your head start to cave in. Death by Misha Collins’ thighs.”

“Gross, dude! What did I say about gay stuff! I don’t want to know about your nasty B.J.’s.”

Jensen says, “Not that kind of job,” at the same time Misha says, “I think you mean R.J.’s.”

Both comments go right over Jared’s head. Misha somehow flips him over and mounts him, but Jared easily bucks him off and gets an arm around his neck.

Something awakens in Jensen at the sight, so he sets his and Misha’s drinks down and dives into the action. He tries to yank Jared off Misha, but Jared gets pissed and asks what the hell he’s doing.

It turns into an all-out war pretty quickly, and Jensen isn’t exactly sure what’s going on but he knows that everything stops pretty abruptly when Misha falls against Jensen's back and shoves his face toward that soft, soft carpet.

The rug burn to his chin is so immediate and painful that Jensen lets out an undignified cry and taps the floor, taps Misha, taps Jared, taps the hell out of there.

“What? What happened?” Jared asks frantically.

“Jens, are you OK? What are you—ow—oh god,” Misha says.

Jensen flips over and finds Misha holding his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Jensen, your chin is bleeding. Like, really badly,” Jared interrupts.

He presses a finger to his chin and yeah, that’s definitely blood. “Shit. Do I need stitches?”

Misha gets right up close to his face and squints at his chin. “Uh, yeah, probably.”

“It’s OK! I have butterfly bandages!” Jared announces like he’s saving the day. He trips over nothing on his way into the kitchen area, but when he comes back he does indeed have a makeshift first aid kit.

“Misha, what’s up with you?” Jared asks as he helps Jensen with the bandage.

“I think, um, my shoulder’s dislocated.”

“What?” Jared and Jensen yell at the same time. Jensen asks, "Why didn't you tap out?"

"Why didn't I what now?"

"Tap out!" Jensen shouts while frantically tapping his own arm. "You don't know what tapping out is?"

Misha blinks at him.

"When you're compromised or in pain, you tap out to indicate that the other person won," Jensen continues. "How do you not know about tapping out! It's how you stop a match before dislocating your goddamn shoulder!"

“Please calm down,” Misha says, a bit irritated. “It’s happened before.”

“What do we do? Should I pop it back into place? I can google how to pop it back into place,” Jared says in a panic.

“No! Absolutely not. It’ll—” He winces, “—put itself back in place soon.”

“Dude, how do you know that?” Jensen asks.

“Because it’s happened to me before, babe. Just—give me a minute.”

Misha gingerly rises to his feet and walks very slowly in the direction of the bathroom. Jensen stares at his back.

“Dude,” Jared says, breaking Jensen out of his trance.

“Hmm?”

Jared rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

When Misha returns, his arm looks a hell of a lot better but he still seems to be in pain. He explains that his ribs hurt, so Jared pulls out the shot glasses and declares that they should drink until nothing hurts anymore.

They stumble into the studio an hour later—Jensen with a gaudy bandage covering his entire chin and Misha so hammered that he finally stopped complaining about how much pain his side is in. (He thought he broke his rib, but Jensen assured him that he’d know if he broke his rib.)

A dozen people ask Jensen what happened to his face within the first 15 minutes of the party, so Jensen continues to drink until he can’t remember if someone asked him or not. He loses both Jared and Misha at different points, but he knows who he’s going home with so he’s not really concerned about it.

Around 2 in the morning, Jared gets his hand on a mic and begins a slurred speech about how great Misha is. Jensen’s face heats up immediately, and he considers walking up and stealing the microphone out of Jared’s hands.

“I’m really proud of the work we’ve put in this season, and I’m especially proud of my good buddy Misha Collins, ladies and gentlemen,” Jared says as people awkwardly clap.

Misha doesn’t go up to Jared, but Jared is looking at a fixed point in the crowd.

“I don’t think he gets enough credit for all he does here, what do you guys think?” Jared continues. “We thought the show would change when we introduced angels, but we didn’t realize it would change because of just one angel.”

Jensen closes his eyes and backs up, trying to escape the embarrassment even in his drunken state.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, Misha.”

Jensen doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He pushes his way through the crowd toward the back hallway where the closest bathrooms are. As he’s opening the bathroom door, a hand squeezes his shoulder.

He turns around and leans in for a kiss at the same time, not really even checking to make sure it’s Misha. He probably wouldn’t have been so sure of himself sober, but apparently he knows Misha’s hands really well while drunk.

“Can we leave yet?” Misha asks with a bright smile. “Jared’s speech made me want to kill myself.”

“Mm, same.” He leans back in for a kiss but misses Misha’s mouth. He pretends like that’s what he was going for and kisses a line down his jaw and onto his throat. The bandage is sort of in the way, but Misha’s not complaining so Jensen’s not doing anything about it.

“You know he talked to me—for—two hours—after Sera—told him?” Misha asks, his voice hitched and stilted as he runs his fingers up through Jensen’s hair.

Jensen places his hands on his hips and pushes him back against the wall to get better leverage.

“So we’re not talking I guess.”

“Mmm.”

Misha sighs but rolls his hips forward so his package rubs up against the crease of Jensen’s hip. Jensen loses his balance and braces his hands on the wall as Misha laughs.

“Shut up,” Jensen grumbles.

“Jens—there’s—there’s somebody coming down the hall.”

“So?” Jensen unceremoniously licks his neck.

“Hi, Sera,” Misha says seriously.

Jensen finally lifts his head and spots Sera walking toward the women’s bathroom. She raises an eyebrow at them, but other than that she looks a little less than shocked. He ignores her and goes back to kissing Misha’s neck.

“Babe, there are other people coming out. I think the party’s ending,” Misha says a few seconds later.

Jensen groans his frustration and drops his forehead to Misha’s shoulder. “I miss this already.”

“Alright, c’mon. Not time to be sentimental yet.”

Misha pries Jensen off of him and then takes his hand as they walk toward the exit together. Voices filter in behind them, someone even calling Jensen’s name, but he ignores them as he puts an arm around Misha’s shoulder and draws him close.

Right up against his ear, he whispers, “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”

Chapter Text

“A month?  You can’t hold your kid for a fucking month?”

Misha sighs into the receiver. “I bruised my ribs pretty badly. Why were we even wrestling anyway? Jared was there, it’s not like it was foreplay. I’d be less mad if I had bruised my ribs and dislocated my shoulder in an attempt to get laid. But no. We were just wrestling like dumbasses.”

Jensen’s tinny laugh carries through the phone, bringing a smile to Misha’s face.

“You think it’s funny? I can’t hold my kid. For a month.”

“I’m sorry. Come over and I’ll make it up to you.”

“I can’t just fly to Texas to get laid.”

“I’d pay for your ticket.”

Stupidly, Misha considers it.

“You’re actually thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jensen asks smugly.

“Shut up. I’ll see you in San Diego.”

After they hang up, Misha looks blankly down at his phone for a second as he replays the conversation in his head. It really shouldn’t be any different than any other hiatus. He rarely sees Jensen outside of conventions anyway, and he’s definitely not going to see him now that he has West.

“Was that Jensen on the phone?” Vicki asks when Misha comes into the kitchen. She has a spoon halfway to West’s mouth and is making faces at him to try to get him to eat.

“Yeah. He says hi.”

“You could go visit him if you wanted to.”

“I’m not leaving you and West.”

Vicki stands up, kisses West’s forehead and turns toward Misha. “Remember when we thought our lives wouldn’t change when we had kids? That was a hoot.”

Misha closes his eyes and winces. “Please don’t bring that up.”

“I still have that picture of Jezebel holding him while you were putting a dollar in her G-string.”

Misha presses his fingers to his eyes. “Why did we bring West to a party? What the hell were we doing?”

“Pretending like we didn’t have a kid. So. You sure you don’t want to visit Jensen?”

“Yeah, um, I’m sure.” He scratches the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do?”

Vicki quirks an eyebrow at him and gestures at the table for him to sit. They end up opposite of each other.

“What’s bothering you?” Vicki asks sincerely, but there’s also a clinical tone to her voice.

“How do you break up with someone you’re not dating.” It’s not a question.

“You want to break up with Jensen?”

“I have to, right? In a couple of months we won’t even live in the same country anymore. Not exactly conducive for a relationship.”

“But you just said you’re not in a relationship.” She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Misha sighs loudly. “You were the one who told me I had to like him before I fucked him. This is your fault.”

Vicki throws her head back and laughs. “You’re so full of shit. If you’re in love with him, then why not do what you do with Darius?”

“I haven’t had sex with Darius in three years, babe.”

“Yeah, but you still talk to him. Flirt with him. You’ve even slept in the same bed together. But how often do you even see him?”

Misha has to think about it for a second. He really doesn’t see Darius all that often, but it never feels like they’ve spent any time apart at all. “Huh,” he says eventually.

“It’s something to think about,” Vicki concludes. “You talk to him on the phone almost every day, so it’s not like it would be impossible to stay in touch.”

“I don’t know how he’s going to feel about it. He sort of acts like nothing’s changed. But then he turns right around and talks about how much he misses me. It’s—frustrating."

West lets out a cry and bangs his hands on his tray table. Misha immediately gets up to retrieve him, but Vicki stops him.

“Your arm, you idiot,” she explains.

They don’t finish their conversation.

Sera is spewing some bullshit about Cas’ arc in season seven, but Misha isn’t really listening. He somehow ended up next to Jensen at this panel, and Jensen is taking advantage of the situation. His hand is massaging Misha’s thigh under the table, slowly moving up and in until he’s rubbing at his inseam. Misha closes his eyes and sinks down in his chair a little, drawing Jared’s attention from his left. Jared whips his head toward him, his eyes dropping down to his lap before jumping right back up to Misha’s face. He clenches his jaw as he stares at him.

Misha shrugs minutely at him in response.

“Wow, that was really informative, thanks for that information,” Jensen says into the microphone, a bite to his tone. He removes his hand from Misha’s thigh and crosses his arms on the table.

Misha straightens up. He ducks his head to fight a ridiculous smile. It’s not like he needs his boyfriend sticking up for him in front of all these people, but the obvious disapproval in Jensen’s voice still makes his heart heavy with affection. Sometimes Misha wonders if Jensen would risk his job for him—if that’s something that Misha was ever selfish enough to ask him to do.

When Jensen’s hand returns to the crease of his hip, Misha realizes that he drifted off again. Instinctively, he drops his hand over Jensen’s and caresses his fingers. He looks over at Jensen to see if he’s noticed, but nothing about his face has changed. He’s looking out at the audience, listening to whatever question they’re being asked. Misha lets his mind wander.

After the panel, they have no time at all before they’re separated for autographs. Although it’s already late in the afternoon, the day still drags. He’s probably not as nice and attentive to the fans as he should be, but he doesn’t really care right now.

He doesn’t go to his own room that night. He takes the elevator up to the fourth floor instead of the fifth and knocks impatiently on Jensen’s door.

“Hey, Mish, we’re—”

He pushes Jensen inside and seals their mouths together. They barely get the door shut before Misha is walking Jensen back toward the bed, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip, his mouth taking and claiming what’s his.

“We’re—supposed—to—dinner—” Jensen breathes between kisses.

“Do we have to?”

As Misha snakes a hand down to Jensen’s fly, Jensen responds, “No.”

“Good.”

Jensen huffs a laugh as he scoots himself up the bed. Misha manhandles him so that he’s slotted between Jensen’s legs, his arm wrapped around his back so Jensen isn’t quite resting on the bed.

They stop kissing for a second and give each other a look. They don’t need to say anything to settle who’s getting fucked tonight.

Misha doesn’t bother getting up to retrieve the lube that’s in his duffel bag. He puts just enough space between them to yank Jensen’s jeans off and is dumbfounded to discover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

Misha looks at him with his mouth hanging open, feigning scandalized.

Jensen shrugs and folds his arms behind his head, a stupid smirk plastered on his handsome face.

Misha foregoes removing his own pants in favor of getting his hands on Jensen’s ass as quickly as possible. Jensen obviously has no intention of lifting up or turning over, so Misha has to push his middle finger inside of him while his hand is trapped against the mattress. The angle is all wrong, but Jensen doesn’t seem to care. He lets out a guttural hum and closes his eyes, his hand instinctively moving to his own neck.

Misha swallows as he watches Jensen’s hand rub and squeeze his neck. He should say something, just like he should’ve said something the dozen other times he’s seen Jensen do this. Instead, he pushes his index finger in alongside his middle finger and reaches for Jensen’s neck with his left hand.

Jensen’s eyes widen and his chest heaves with a surprised breath. He grabs Misha’s wrist hard enough to bruise, pulling his hand down firmer against his neck. Very slowly, Misha squeezes.

The sound Jensen makes almost does it right there for Misha. He squeezes a little bit harder, keeping his eyes glued to Jensen’s face to make sure it doesn’t start turning purple. And, also, because he’s really hot.

When he pushes a third finger in, Jensen arches off the bed and whines. Misha immediately removes his fingers and sloppily undoes his belt and fly with one hand. His other hand is still on Jensen’s neck with no hope of ever moving because Jensen still has an iron grip on his wrist.

He barely gets his pants past his thighs before pulling his cock out and lifting Jensen’s hips up to push in. Despite his protests about how old and out of shape he’s getting, Jensen can easily lift one leg over Misha’s shoulder to create a better angle. (When Misha asked him about it a couple months ago, Jensen had cockily replied, “Anything for good dick,” and Misha had laughed so much that Jensen had to suck him off to get him hard again.)

Misha wastes no time before pounding into Jensen. They stopped using condoms a couple months ago, too, and Misha’s cock is grateful for it. Jensen is tight, and every time Misha moves out, his hole clenches around his cock and pulls it back in.

When he’s close, his grip tightens around Jensen’s neck. He can hear Jensen’s stilted breathing and it should probably make him let up, but instead it spurs him on more. He’s using his right arm to prop himself up on the bed, which means he has no available hand to jerk Jensen off. The problem’s solved when Jensen reaches down himself and takes his shaft in his hand.

“Harder,” Jensen says. 

Misha pushes with all he’s got, but Jensen shakes his head.

“Your hand,” Jensen explains.

Misha squeezes as tight as he can and comes with a strangled shout. He can feel himself spilling into Jensen and finds that he can’t quite pull out yet. He keeps his hand on his neck and stares down at him as Jensen jerks himself off.

As Jensen’s breathing picks up, Misha squeezes harder once more. Jensen is clenching around his softening cock, and he probably should’ve pulled out by now but just a few more seconds and—

Jensen comes with a sigh and relaxes beneath Misha. Misha immediately removes his hand from his neck and stares at the red imprints he left on either side of his windpipe.

“Well, uh,” Jensen says awkwardly.

They both start laughing.

As Misha peels himself away from Jensen, he realizes that he’s basically fully clothed. Jensen still has a t-shirt and flannel on, too. How ridiculous.

“So, uh. Let’s not mention that one to anybody, right?” Jensen asks timidly, his hand stroking over his neck as he sprawls out on the bed.

Misha huffs a laugh and tucks himself back in. He should probably shower, but whatever. He gets to bareback Jensen Ackles and he’s going to savor it after the fact.

“Does Danneel know?” Misha asks shyly.

Jensen grunts in affirmation.

“Does she do it?”

Jensen spreads out even more and looks over at Misha. “Sometimes. She says if she did it all the time, I wouldn’t ‘long for it’ or whatever the fuck.”

Misha smiles at him. “She knows you too well.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You coming over here or not?”

“I thought we needed to go to dinner.”

“Shit.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and continues to curse under his breath.

“I mean, maybe nobody will miss us,” Misha placates.

“I told Jared I’d be there—” Jensen looks at his phone, “—Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Shit,” Misha repeats.

They scramble around each other to get ready, and in their haste to leave Jensen forgets a belt. As they’re getting on the elevator together, Misha watches as the pants slip down around Jensen’s hips and reveal that he’s still not wearing any underwear. Misha smirks as Jensen hikes his jeans up.

When they walk into the restaurant together 10 minutes later, absolutely no one looks surprised. Jared glares at them but keeps his mouth shut. Just to be a little bit less conspicuous, Misha sits across from Jensen instead of right next to him. Of course, that’s how he notices the huge red mark on the side of Jensen’s neck that looks distinctly like four separate fingertip-sized bruises.

Misha’s eyes widen as he looks around the table to see if anybody else has noticed. It seems they might be in the clear until Rich speaks up.

“Something happen to your neck, Jensen?” he asks pointblank.

Jensen blinks. “No, why?” He reaches up and scratches at it, right where the finger marks are. “Something on it?”

“Oh, it’s probably just from you scratching it,” Rich reasons.

Holy shit. Jensen’s done this before. He’s been in this fucking situation before. Misha raises an impressed eyebrow at him.

Jensen winks at him, but it’s more like a blink and it looks stupid and Misha ducks his chin to laugh.

Nobody else says anything about Jensen’s neck for the rest of the night.

That is, until it’s just Jensen, Misha and Jared riding up the elevator later that night and they’re all just a little bit drowsy with wine.

After a moment of silence, Jared says, “I don’t wanna know what kinky shit y’all are into, but you’re making it kind of hard for people not to notice.”

Jensen clears his throat.

“We’re sorry that we were late to dinner,” Misha says seriously.

“I’m not,” Jensen chimes in. “You’d be late if Gen wanted to fuck, and I’d understand.”

Jared opens his mouth to protest but then closes it.

Misha once again raises an impressed eyebrow at Jensen.

When the elevator doors open on Jensen’s floor, he grabs Misha’s hand and stalks past Jared without saying goodbye.

Misha looks over his shoulder and gives a small wave with his free hand even as he jogs to keep up with Jensen’s pace.

Before they’re even in the room, Misha is taking advantage of how easily his hands can slide under the waistband of Jensen's jeans.

“Babe,” Jensen chastises weakly. He struggles to get the keycard into the slot while Misha is pressed against his back, sucking hickeys into his already bruised neck.

Eventually Jensen’s weight buckles back against Misha, so Misha has to take the keycard out of his hand and blindly put it in the slot himself. He shoves Jensen into the room and shucks his own shirt before the door’s shut behind them. He plans on both of them being naked this time.

“That was so fucking hot,” Misha says against Jensen’s mouth like it’s a prayer.

They fall onto the bed, definitely naked this time.

“Everything you did today,” Misha continues as they kiss. “The way you called Sera out on her bullshit.” He bites his collarbone. “How easily you lied about your neck.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Not taking any of Jared’s shit.” He kisses a quick line down the center of Jensen’s soft stomach and then deliberately stops right at his cock.

“God, Sera made me so mad today,” Jensen responds, sounding completely unaffected by Misha’s ministrations.

Which is somehow also really hot.

“Oh, yeah?” Misha asks before closing his mouth around Jensen’s shaft.

“Mm, yeah.” Jensen arches up a little and grabs Misha’s hair. “‘Ask us again after the first couple episodes’ my ass. All she’s gonna be getting is hate mail. Yeah, babe. Do that again. Just like that. Good. You know, I get that she can’t answer the question. But Jesus, if you didn’t want to deal with talking about it, then don’t fucking kill Cas off! Ah—yeah—again, please. And she doesn’t even pronounce your name right. Have you noticed that? She says ‘Casti-ul.’ God, I’m so pissed.”

Misha sneaks a hand underneath Jensen to speed up the process. Jensen keeps monologuing about Sera, but soon enough he’s a writhing mess and clenches around Misha’s fingers while he comes down the back of his throat.

Misha wipes his mouth and plops down next to him on the bed. Jensen pulls him close to his side and drops a kiss to his forehead.

“Tell me how you really feel, Jens,” Misha says facetiously.

“Whatever, I don’t care. Sera can blow me.”

“Probably not a good idea right now, you might be sensitive.” Misha reaches up and kisses his neck again, right over the bruises. “I can’t believe you can’t keep a straight face while Sera’s talking, but you can fake your way out of explaining bruises from erotic asphyxiation.”

“Yeah, well, one of those I’ve had experience with. Can we go to sleep now?”

“Just like this?”

“Look, I had a long day. My ass is raw, my throat hurts, I had to listen to Sera say Casti-ul. Cut me some slack.”

Misha buries his face in Jensen’s neck and laughs. It was a good fucking day.

The next morning, he gets most of his clothes back on and sneaks back to his own room without waking Jensen. It isn’t until he’s getting in the shower that he remembers he was supposed to talk to Jensen this weekend. He was supposed to break up with Jensen this weekend.

He doesn’t get around to it.

It’s a long fucking flight back to Vancouver two weeks after Comic-Con. The worst part is knowing that he’ll be turning right around and flying back to L.A. in a week.

When he arrives on set bright and early Monday morning, he’s greeted by a sleeping Jensen curled up on his couch. Misha shuts the door loudly behind him.

“Did I go to the wrong trailer?” he asks as Jensen startles awake.

Jensen sits up drowsily and smiles up at Misha, his hair sticking in all directions and his eyes still a little droopy.

“Fuck.”

“What? Wha’wrong?” Jensen asks.

“Nothing,” Misha says, frustrated. “You’re just—fuck you.” He puts his duffel bag in the armchair and heads to the kitchen for some tea.

Jensen already got him a mug ready and turned the pot on.

As Misha angrily pours the water into the mug, Jensen snakes a hand around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jensen says sarcastically.

“What are you doing in my trailer? Besides making me tea and being cute?”

Jensen huffs a laugh and drops a kiss to Misha’s shoulder. “Wanted to see you as much as possible. Thought you’d be here sooner, accidentally fell asleep.” Right up against his ear, Jensen whispers, “You think I’m cute?”

Misha grabs his mug in both hands and shuffles around until he’s facing Jensen. Jensen puts his hands on the counter, trapping Misha between his arms. He has a lazy smirk on his face that Misha kisses right off.

“You really get a kick out of me finding you attractive, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” Jensen hums in agreement. He leans forward and seals his mouth to Misha’s neck. He pulls away just slightly to say, “Not so hard on the eyes yourself.”

“I thought I was weird looking.”

Jensen leans back to give Misha a skeptical look. He then angles his face back toward his neck and says, “You’re hot, babe. Really fucking hot.”

Misha very carefully brings his mug to his lips for a drink. When he's done, he says, “I didn’t know you thought I was hot.”

One of Jensen’s hands slides around Misha’s back and pulls him forward so their bodies press tightly together. “You’re fishing.”

“I’m actually just trying to drink my tea.”

Jensen just barely rolls his hips forward, enough to rub his cock against Misha’s hip. “I definitely think you’re hot.”

Misha tilts his head back and groans in frustration. He takes one more drink of tea before admitting defeat and blindly placing it on the counter behind him. As soon as he puts both arms around Jensen’s neck, Jensen puts both his hands behind his thighs and hoists him up onto the counter.

“Do we have time for you to fuck me?” Misha asks desperately in between kisses.

“Probably not,” Jensen replies as he fumbles with Misha’s belt buckle. “But I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Jensen ambitiously picks Misha up and makes it three steps toward the couch before dropping him gracelessly. They laugh as they fall onto the couch, Misha wriggling out of his pants with Jensen’s help. They kiss and touch each other and kiss some more and then Jensen extricates himself and comes back a second later with lube.

Unprompted, Misha flips over onto his stomach and lifts his ass in the air. Almost no time at all passes before Jensen’s hands grab both of his cheeks, and his lips press against his skin. A chill runs down Misha’s spine as his eyes slip shut.

Jensen is working his index finger gently in and out when there’s a knock on the door.

“Misha! You back?”

“Go away, Jared!” Jensen and Misha yell in unison.

“Oh, come on, y’all, let me in!”

Misha turns his head and shouts, “Context clues should lead you to assume you really don’t want to be in here with us!”

Jensen’s rhythm is thrown off as he shakes with laughter.

“What the hell are y’all—oh. Jesus fuck. Y’all are gross!”

“Love you, too, Jared!” Misha yells. Then, softer, he says to Jensen, “Babe, that’s kind of uncomfortable. Please stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry. He’s just—he’s so dumb.”

“Do you think he forgot?”

“Honestly, it’s possible.”

“Mmm.”

“Is that better?” Jensen asks gently.

“Mm-hmm.”

Misha shuts his eyes once again and considers just going to sleep. As Jensen works two fingers in, though, his stomach rolls over unpleasantly.

He ignores it until about a minute later he feels like he might puke.

“Fuck,” Misha mutters as he squirms under Jensen’s hold.

“You feel good, baby.”

“No—Jensen—that wasn’t a good fu—oh god, get off me.”

Lucky for him, Jensen knows his serious voice and immediately moves off of him so Misha can run to the bathroom.

When he’s done puking his guts out, he raises his head and sees Jensen in the mirror, standing in the doorframe looking lost.

“I’m fine,” Misha croaks.

“I told you not to eat at that sketchy Indian place anymore.”

“That’s racist,” Misha replies before ducking his head and hurling once more.

“Dude.”

“Would you mind telling Jeff that I’m, uh, indisposed?”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Jensen.” He gags, but nothing comes up. “I really don’t need you seeing this. The best thing you can do for me is let them know I need some time.”

Jensen huffs his annoyance but turns to leave anyway. Misha yells out a “thank you” right before the door shuts.

He doesn’t even remember what they were supposed to film today. He manages to put on some boxer briefs and wrap himself in a blanket, but he’s puking so much that he has to keep a trashcan by the couch. Maybe Jensen will come back with some spit buckets from set.

By noon, Misha feels way worse. He’s shivering and sweating, and the sickness has reached the other end of his body as well. He tries to sleep, but everything hurts.

When the first A.D. shows up at his trailer, he barely says two sentences to him before he leaves. Ten minutes later, a P.A. shows up. Fifteen minutes later, the director shows up.

“How you feeling, Misha?” Phil asks superfluously.

Misha buries his head in the trashcan and vomits.

“Wow. So, uh, rest up, OK? Whenever you start—if you feel better at any point today, we’d really like to get these scenes done. No pressure, of course. But—yeah. Feel better.”

Misha gives him a thumbs up before diving back into the trashcan.

An hour later, a doctor shows up.

She comes in with Phil and a P.A. and fucking Jensen, and they all stand around with their arms crossed watching as she determines what Misha already fucking knows.

He’s in terrible shape, is running a fever, probably won’t be able to do much for the next 48 hours.

At 1 a.m., the second A.D. shows up in a golf cart and carries him off to hair and makeup against his will.

They want to film the end of the scene first, which means they pour black goo all over Misha’s head and give him some packets of an edible version to put in his mouth and crunch down on once they start rolling.

Great.

He can feel sweat beading down his face—it’s a different texture than the fucking goo also beading down his face—and he has one eye on the trashcan as he suffers through crushing the packet of what tastes like chocolate and peanut butter and alka-seltzer.

He says half of a line before gagging.

During the next take, he nearly falls over. Luckily, Jensen reaches out and catches him under the arm. He has a look on his face like he’s never pitied anyone so much in his life.

Finally, during the third take, Jensen says, “OK, stop rolling. Seriously, stop. We’re done. It’s over, we’re going home.” He looks around at the crew before putting an arm around Misha to help him stay on his feet. “We’re not doing this now. This is horrible.”

Phil appears as Jensen is helping Misha off set, but Jensen levels him with a glare and he doesn’t even try to argue. If Misha wasn’t so violently ill, he’d be really turned on by how much authority Jensen holds. Usually actors have none whatsoever. (Case in point: Misha not being allowed to go home despite puking his guts out all day.)

Jensen walks with Misha all the way back to his trailer. Misha is so woozy and delirious that he hardly notices as Jensen takes a damp washcloth to his face and then helps him out of his costume until he’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a t-shirt. Jensen then wraps a blanket around him and holds him steady by the back of his neck to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll sleep here with you if you want,” Jensen says gently as he rubs his thumb along Misha’s cheek. “Actually, I’m gonna insist on it. I’m not gonna sleep a wink tonight if I don’t know you’re OK.”

Misha closes his eyes and starts to fall sideways. “You must really love me,” he mumbles.

"Yeah, I do."

The last thing he remembers is Jensen getting him into bed and curling up behind him and holding him tight. He manages to sleep through the night.

It takes two more days before Misha is restored to full health. He powers through the scenes a stunt double already did for him and privately bemoans the fact that the very last episode he’ll ever do for Supernatural wasn’t even his own performance. It’s forever tainted by illness. For some reason, it feels apropos.

Also, he wants to be out partying and drinking to forget that it’s his last week, but the thought of putting alcohol in his body makes him want to puke again. So instead, Jensen invites him over three nights in a row and they make slow, sensual love and barely get any sleep at all.

Make love. Jesus Christ. The first night, Jensen waited until they were getting in bed before curling up behind Misha and gently pushing his fingers into him while peppering his neck and shoulder in kisses. He whispered disgusting sweet nothings in his ear about how much he would miss him and he didn’t know what he’d do without him, and then he fucked him so slowly that it took Misha almost an hour to come. So yeah, “make love” is the proper term here.

During Misha’s last day on set, some of the crewmembers and actors throw him a small, sad party at craft services. He thanks all of them for the (mostly) great times he’s had, and they try not to make too big of a deal out of him leaving. Instinctively, Misha sticks close to Jensen’s side and doesn’t flinch away when Jensen rubs his lower back or squeezes his hand or kisses his temple. If anyone thinks it’s weird, they don’t comment on it.

As the party’s winding down around midnight, Jensen wraps his arm around Misha’s waist and whispers right against his ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

Misha nods and follows Jensen out amidst a chorus of goodbyes. It’s kind of overwhelming how much these people like him.

They don’t really say much on the drive to Jensen’s apartment. They hold hands on their way up, and Misha wastes no time once they’re inside. He presses his hand to Jensen’s cheek and kisses him gently. When they separate, they knock their foreheads together. Misha keeps his eyes closed.

“I don’t want you to go,” Jensen says.

“Quit your job. Come with me.”

Jensen huffs a laugh and kisses Misha on the lips. “Let’s go to bed. I need to see you.”

Misha doesn’t know what he means until about 10 minutes later when he’s sprawled out on the bed naked and Jensen is touching and kissing every part of his body. Eventually he licks him open and fucks him missionary style, with the lights on. Misha wraps his arms around his neck to pull him close, and once again their foreheads knock together.

Jensen turns his head to kiss Misha’s jaw and neck. He barely stops to say, “I love you, Mish. I’m—I’m in love with you.”

Misha comes unexpectedly, his whole body shivering before going limp. He doesn’t say anything as Jensen finishes.

In fact, they don’t say anything to each other until the next morning. Despite spending most of the night kissing and fucking, they don’t say a word.

In the morning, Misha wakes up groggy and alone. He barely has his eyes all the way open before Jensen comes into the room in nothing but his boxer briefs and sets a mug of tea on the nightstand.

“C’mere,” Jensen says as he lies back down and pulls Misha in for a kiss.

“You taste like coffee,” Misha complains. His hand wanders to Jensen’s hip and digs into the soft skin there.

“Text me that you’re home safe, alright?”

“Mmm.” Misha lifts his head up so he can kiss Jensen’s neck.

“And then call me tonight.”

Misha pulls away. “Jensen,” he says seriously.

“What?” Jensen looks up at him and rubs his thumb along his cheek.

“We can’t—you know this isn’t gonna work.”

Jensen’s hand drops, his face falls. “Don’t—please don’t do this. Not now.”

“Baby, you have to see that we can’t sustain this.”

Jensen lets out a huge breath as his entire demeanor changes. “Dude, just break up with me," he says in a resigned tone. "Quit trying to make me agree to it like I’ve got a choice in the matter.”

“I’m not—this isn’t—how are we breaking up if we’re not even technically together?”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head. He angrily gets up and pulls on a t-shirt, facing away from Misha. “Like it or not, you’re my boyfriend. I’d appreciate it if you treated me, you know, like this matters.” His voice softens. “Break up with me like you’d break up with a significant other. Please.”

Misha takes a deep breath. He crosses the bed and stands behind Jensen, only hesitating a little bit before wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Jens. I don’t want to do this. I want to stay here with you and fall—be with you."

Jensen’s hand covers Misha’s.

“But I have to do this. It would be impossible for us, and I need to be more present for West. And Vick. I can’t have a boyfriend. A long-distance boyfriend.”

Jensen is quiet for a long time. Finally, he says, “I won’t be able to...We’re gonna see each other at conventions. I can’t—you gotta promise me we won’t fall back into this. We’ll be friends, but we can’t do this.” He lifts their joined hands. “I can’t be your fuckbuddy, not when I’m completely in love with you.”

Misha lets him go. He takes a second to process everything.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says eventually.

“Yeah, well, it did.” Jensen pulls on a pair of jeans. “I thought I’d be OK, you know, with what we had. And then...I don’t know. I don’t know when this—we got serious.”

Misha closes the distance between them and hesitantly grabs his hip. “It was always serious, we’re just idiots. You’re my boyfriend. I’m sorry we have to break up like this.”

Jensen closes his eyes tightly and leans into Misha’s space.

Misha places his free hand on Jensen’s cheek and coaxes him forward until their foreheads knock together. They stay like that for a beat until Jensen takes in a deep breath and seals their mouths together forcefully.

Despite being surprised by the kiss, Misha responds immediately. He grabs Jensen’s ass and walks backward toward the bed. They stumble a bit until Misha is able to lift Jensen up around his waist and carry him back. He kicks the jeans off that he had just put on. They keep right on kissing, biting each other and scratching backs and sucking bruises into each other’s skin. Somewhere in their fury, Misha pushes deep inside of Jensen without warning, and Jensen groans in pain.

“Give me a fucking warning, jackass,” Jensen says before hauling Misha down by the neck and kissing him again.

“Well, there won’t be a next time, so I guess I don’t have to worry about it.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

It’s fast and dirty and they kiss fervently right up until they both come. Misha’s cock feels like it very easily could’ve broken from how tight Jensen clenched around him. Jensen looks spent but unhurt. After a few panted breaths, he gropes for his clothes and jumps right out of bed.

“Last time,” Jensen says definitively, buttoning up his fly.

“Last time,” Misha agrees.

Chapter Text

Jensen wakes up to the grating sound of his alarm only to realize after hitting snooze that it was actually a call. He groggily fumbles for his phone and calls his wife back immediately, putting her on speaker so he can stay curled up on his side with his cheek smashed into the pillow.

“Have you talked to Jared lately?” she asks eagerly.

“What?”

“Oh shit, did I wake you up? I’m sorry, baby.”

“S’OK. What’s going on with Jared?”

“Nothing. I was just talking to Gen and she was talking about you guys. That’s all. What’s up? Why are you asleep so late?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh god. Misha went home, didn’t he?”

Jensen doesn’t say anything.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. Are you—did you tell him?”

“Yeah.”

“And? What’d he say?”

Jensen doesn't answer.

“Oh, honey,” she says softly.

He flips over onto his back but keeps his eyes shut. “He dumped me.”

“Oh,” she says again.

“I get why he did it, but—it still sucks.”

“Was it because he thinks you won’t see each other anymore? He’ll still be at conventions, won’t he?”

The hope in her voice breaks his heart. He sits up in bed and presses the phone to his ear. “It’s not enough. Not for me anyway.” He winces after he says it. He and Danneel have about as much sex as he and Misha would if they only fucked at conventions. But this isn't really about sex. 

“You poor thing,” she responds, apparently not recognizing what his words say about their own relationship. “I’m gonna come up there next weekend.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I’d fly there today if I could.”

He manages a smile and lets her words sink in for a second. Eventually, he says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Get out of bed, OK? I know how you are. Sulking does nothing for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, babe.”

“Bye, Jensen.”

He falls back asleep as soon as they hang up.

He’s on his side, and Misha is curled up behind him. He’s kissing his neck and squeezing his stomach and whispering to him that the coffee’s getting cold. Jensen grumbles back, “Is this payback for all the times I’ve tried to get your lazy butt out of bed?”

“Mm, maybe,” Misha replies between kisses. He presses his groin against the crease of Jensen’s boxer-clad ass. “How do you feel about somnophilia?”

“Somna-what now?”

He rolls his hips. “I’m asking if I can fuck you right now, babe.”

Jensen buries his face in the pillow and whines. “Too tired.”

Misha huffs a laugh against his skin. “Yeah, that’s the point.”

“What?”

“Ugh, nothing. Wake up so I can fuck you.”

Jensen does wake up. Alone. It wasn’t a dream; it was a memory.

When he finally drags himself out of bed, he doesn’t bother showering before pulling the jeans he wore the day before back on. He doesn’t bother with underwear, either. He never went commando before Misha, and he’s not entirely sure why he started.

As he’s staring numbly at the coffee pot, his phone rings.

“Hey, Jared,” he mumbles into the phone.

“Hey! I’m coming over.”

“What? Why—”

Jared hangs up with no explanation.

Jensen groans loudly and considers chucking his phone across the kitchen. Instead, he nurses his mug of coffee and stares blankly at the walls for a little bit. Ridiculously, he types out a text to Misha and reads it a dozen times before deleting it.

This sucks, was all it said.

When Jared knocks loudly and enthusiastically 15 minutes later, Jensen jumps in surprise before registering that he needs to actually go answer the door.

Jared bounces from foot to foot once inside. Jensen wonders if this is how he is all the time and he usually just doesn’t notice because he’s never in this bad of a mood as a contrast.

But before Jensen can follow the rabbit trail of that thought, Jared says, “Gen’s pregnant.”

It takes Jensen a moment to process. He manages a genuine smile and hauls Jared down for a hug.

Jared laughs as they embrace. “I’m so fucking excited, man. I’ve already cried, like, five times.”

“That’s great, Jared. I’m really happy for you.”

Jared’s eyebrows knit together. “Are you OK? You seem like—fuck. Misha’s gone, isn’t he?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and nonchalantly heads for the kitchen. Jared follows him.

“Boy or girl?” Jensen asks as he pops the top off a beer.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“It’s 8 in the morning.”

Jensen deliberately takes a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating.” He passes an open beer over to Jared. “C’mon, humor me. Boy or girl?”

Jared hesitantly takes the beer and smiles down at it. “We don’t know yet. I think we can find out pretty soon though.”

“So she’s pretty far along?”

“Uh, a little over two months. She’s known for a couple weeks, but she knew I’d tell everybody once she told me, so she wanted to make sure she was far enough along. God. I’m so excited.”

Jensen huffs a laugh. “I’m really happy for you, man. Seriously.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Misha broke up with you, didn’t he?” Jared asks.

Jensen squints at him. “We get away with that shit for months, and now you decide to be observant?”

“Hey, I know you better than anyone. I just didn’t know...that...one part of your life. But he did, right? He broke up with you?”

“How do you know I didn’t break up with him?”

Jared laughs at him.

“You’re not helping.”

“Was it amicable at least? I don’t want to feel super awkward at conventions, dude.”

“Because this is all about you, right?”

Jared flicks his bottle cap at Jensen’s face.

“I guess it was amicable. I don’t fucking know, I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Jared takes a drink. “But, I mean, no offense, didn’t you see this coming?”

“What?”

“You knew he was leaving. Y’all spent, like, every night together for a week and a half.” He winces, but only a little bit. “Seemed to me like he was trying to say goodbye.”

“Well of course he was trying to say goodbye, but that doesn’t mean he had to fucking—” He raises his head to the ceiling with a sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just naive.”

“His only reason for breaking up with you was the fact that he felt like he had to, right? Because of the distance?”

“Yeah.”

“So, if Sera suddenly changed her mind tomorrow and he was back, you’d want to get back together? I mean, whatever that means for you guys?”

“Yeah, I would. In a heartbeat.” He’s staring at one of the knobs on his cabinets, just to the left of Jared. His beer bottle is lukewarm in his hand now.

“Shit, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Jared blurts out.

Jensen snaps out of his trance and glares at him. “Seriously. Didn’t notice anything for months.”

Instead of defending himself or making a joke, Jared sets his beer on the counter and gathers Jensen up in a ridiculously tight hug.

Jensen’s instinct is to push him off, tell him he’s not a freaking girl, but instead he melts into him and curls his fist against his back.

“I miss him, too, man,” Jared admits. “This really fucking sucks.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Jared sticks around for most of the day, probably to make sure Jensen doesn’t drink and mope all day long. It’s good company, even if they do spend several hours sitting in front of the TV not speaking to each other.

Jensen’s happy for Jared and Gen, he really is, but an annoying part of his mind wonders if Jared’s going to end up ditching him, too.

The first week back on set without Misha is boring. Jensen doesn’t joke around or hang out at craft services, and he keeps his phone on him at all times so he can pull it out and ignore everyone between takes. Jared doesn’t even try to joke around. They get through scenes in fewer takes than they ever have before. The director and A.D.s look absolutely thrilled.

One night as he’s getting in bed, Jensen types in Misha’s contact and stares at the keyboard wondering what to say.

He reads back over their last conversation.

Coffee or tea? Jensen had asked.

Coffee. Two creams, two sugars please.

How long you gonna be in the shower? Want to make sure it’s hot for you.

Come join me and we’ll make coffee after.

I showered last night.

Yeah but my dick is hard RIGHT NOW.

Ugh fine.

:)

Jensen exits out of the conversation fast. That had been less than a week ago. He had sucked Misha off in the shower and then complained the entire time they drank their coffee. He hates shower sex.

Maybe he could call Danneel. Convince her to have phone sex with him before he goes to sleep. But he just talked to her earlier today and she’d know something was up. She’d ask him about Misha and make him talk about his feelings. No thanks.

He doesn’t get a good night’s sleep.

After a few weeks, Jensen starts to feel like himself again. They slip back into an easy routine at work and it’s fine. He focuses on Jared’s happiness over his wife’s pregnancy, and he only opens his and Misha’s text conversation three more times before deleting the whole thing. He doesn’t delete Misha’s contact, though. That would be too final.

The months roll by and suddenly it’s October and the first episode airs and Jensen doesn’t even think about it before agreeing to watch it in Jared’s trailer with a big group of people.

It isn’t until Castiel appears on screen that Jensen’s heart sinks. He goes to the kitchen area and pours himself some scotch from Jared’s secret fancy stash. Jared sees him from the couch and gives him a sorry look. Jensen rolls his eyes.

Somebody, doesn’t matter who, starts up the story about Misha being sick and it turns out several of the people in the room had no idea that happened. It turns into a hilarious story about him nearly puking while covered in black goo and how his stand-in blocked the whole scene for him and really fucked him over when he came back.

“Hey, guys,” Jensen interrupts sternly.

Several heads turn to look at him.

“Mish was really sick that week,” he continues, not quite sure where he’s going with this. Misha would definitely not mind everyone laughing at his expense. In fact, he’d probably join in. He'd be the one telling the damn story. “It was really tough on him, and you’re laughing at him.”

Silence fills the room as everyone averts their eyes away from Jensen. He stares down at his scotch and swirls it around just for something to do. If Misha were here, he’d make fun of Jensen and everyone would laugh and everything would go back to normal and Jensen wouldn’t feel so awkward right now.

When the episode ends, everybody immediately starts talking. Jensen steps outside to get some air.

After about 30 seconds, Jared comes up next to him and hands him a bowl.

Jensen takes a hit with no hesitation. Then he takes another one before handing it back.

“I heard Brad whispering to Kate that you’ve probably been pissy lately because you miss Misha,” Jared says.

Jensen laughs and shakes his head.

“What?” Jared asks through a puff of smoke.

“Everybody knew we were banging except for you. You’re a moron, you know that?”

“Hey!” Jared protests with a weak slap to Jensen’s shoulder. “They don’t know shit. I think it’s more of a joke than anything.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well. Whatever. It’s not a crime to assume your best friend is not sleeping with your other best friend.”

Jensen looks at him curiously. “You consider Misha a best friend?”

Jared shrugs. “I don’t have that many friends, dude.”

“Are you still talking to him?”

Jared stares down at the bowl as he hovers it near his mouth. “Um, yeah? I text him sometimes. He gives me updates on West and Random Acts and stuff.” He huffs a laugh. “He told me all about GISHWHES. It sounded so fucking crazy. I’m tempted to participate next year.”

Jensen swallows a lump in his throat. “Oh yeah? So he’s, uh, doing well?”

Jared gives him a sympathetic look as he passes the bowl over. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s alright! It’s fine. Does he, uh, does he know about your kid?”

“Um, yeah, I told him. He’s really happy for us.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Jared clears his throat but doesn’t say anything else.

They smoke in silence for a couple more minutes, then Jared says, "Picking up the coat was the right call."

"What?"

"I thought it was dumb when you asked if you could pick up the coat, but it looked really nice in the episode. I mean, it's not like we'd have a funeral for Cas, but it was nice to see some form of mourning."

"Hmm."

After a beat, Jared asks, "You didn't do that for Castiel though, did you?"

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on."

"You're hoping Misha will come back. If he comes back, he'll need the coat." There's not even a hint of teasing in Jared's voice.

Jensen hands the bowl over and heads back inside.

Jensen and Jared are on the same flight to Chicago, but their seats aren’t next to each other. Jensen is pissed about it until they land and his phone buzzes with a text.

His screen lights up with Misha’s name. He’s glad Jared’s not nearby to hear the embarrassing gasp he lets out.

I’m allowed to talk to you at this convention, right?

Jensen squeezes his phone in his hand. Fucking Misha. Passive aggressive piece of shit.

Yeah.

By the time Misha responds, Jensen’s already on the jetway.

Cordial? Small talk only? What are the guidelines here?

Despite himself, Jensen smiles at his phone.

Just act however you did when we were friends.

WERE we ever friends? All I remember is not liking you very much followed by liking you so much that I had to consciously stop myself from kissing you every single time we hung out.

Mish.

Oh shit, I went too far, didn’t I? Probably best if we don’t talk at all this weekend.

You know that’s not gonna happen.

I can damn well try, Ackles.

Jensen doesn’t respond. He scrolls back up through their messages and reads them again. It’s now the only text conversation he has with Misha.

When Jensen gets to baggage claim, he pulls his phone back out to see if he missed any other texts from anyone.

“Dude,” Jared says angrily from next to him.

“Oh, hey,” Jensen greets as he looks up at him.

“I called your name, like, five times when we got off the plane.”

“You did? Why didn’t you catch up with me?”

“You were really far ahead. You seriously didn’t hear me?”

Jensen shakes his head.

Jared sighs loudly. “I knew you were gonna be weird this weekend, but I didn’t think it’d start in the fucking airport.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. Are you gonna talk to him?”

Jensen stares at the luggage as it moves around the carousel. “I don’t know, Jared.”

“Great. This is gonna be really fun.”

After they get their luggage, they’re picked up in an SUV and taken to their hotel. Jensen’s heart beats a little harder than average, even though he knows logically that just because they’re staying in the same hotel as Misha doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to run into him. Jared has a room on the fourth floor, Jensen on the seventh, so they part ways on the elevator. Jared immediately calls him as soon as the elevator starts moving again.

“What, dude?” Jensen asks, fake agitation in his voice.

“Forgot to ask if you were planning on going to karaoke tonight.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Convention’s in this hotel. You didn’t know that?”

The elevator doors open, so Jensen tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can wheel his luggage down the hall. “Why the fuck are we staying in the same hotel as the convention?”

A college-aged girl comes out of a room and looks at Jensen. He smiles politely at her, and she smiles politely back before walking right past him. OK, so obviously not a con-goer.

“It’s one of those giant Hilton-Garden whatever-the-fucks. The convention is basically in a completely different hotel, but you don’t have to go outside to get to it. There’s a big hallway that connects the buildings.”

“Why do you know this and I don’t?” Jensen asks as he fumbles for his keycard and puts it in the door.

“I don’t know, man, Rich just invited me to karaoke one day.”

“Well, why didn’t he invite me?” The door flashes red at him. “Goddamn it,” he whispers to himself.

“Probably because he knows you’re all mopey about Misha.”

“I’m not mopey about Misha.” Red again. His wheeled suitcase tips over as he readjusts his stance.

A door nearby opens and clicks shut.

“I can come to karaoke if I damn well want to,” Jensen continues petulantly.

Suddenly an extremely familiar hand reaches for Jensen’s keycard.

“Let me help you with that,” Misha says casually.

Jensen whips his head around. His phone drops to the floor. He stares at Misha, but Misha is looking at the door.

“There you go,” Misha says as the door clicks open.

“Mish,” Jensen says dumbly.

From the floor, Jensen can just barely hear Jared’s voice saying, “Jensen? You there? Was that Misha I heard? It sounded like Misha.”

Misha picks up his phone for him and hands it over. Jensen clicks “end call” without taking his eyes away from Misha.

“Are you—this floor?” Jensen asks.

Misha huffs a laugh. “Yeah, I’m just right back there.” He points behind him. “You hung up on Jared.”

“Hmm? Oh, right. He’ll get over it. When did you—what did—why are you here so early?”

“Why are you here so early?”

“I don’t know, they told me to be. I guess—maybe we’re all expected at karaoke,” he says bitterly.

Misha laughs again, softly. “You can always tell them you’re too mopey to go.”

Jensen fights a smile, but there’s no way to fight the blush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

Misha’s eyes flicker down to Jensen’s mouth and then back up. He doesn’t hide his own smile. “I’ll see you later, Jensen.”

“Yeah. Bye, Mish.”

His door has locked again. He pushes it fruitlessly as Misha heads toward the elevator. It takes him a few more tries to get the keycard to work, but he’s just grateful he didn’t have to call Misha back for help.

Once inside his room, he exhales and relaxes. After a moment of consideration, he goes over to the minibar. He cracks open a tiny bottle of vodka and downs it like a shot.

By the time Jared knocks on his door a couple hours later yelling at him to come to karaoke, Jensen is pleasantly buzzed. He yells through the door that he’s not going, and Jared shoots back an, “Ugh, fine!”

Jensen furrows his brow in surprise at how quickly Jared gave up. He considers going to the door and seeing what’s up, but then he’ll definitely be roped into going to karaoke and he’s not falling for that trap. He does, however, get up to go to the minibar and overhears Jared talking to someone in the hallway. It must be Misha, so Jensen is definitely not going to go out there.

Eventually the voices die down and a door clicks shut. Jensen sits on his bed and flips through channels restlessly. Suddenly there’s a knock on his door and he jumps.

He doesn’t even hesitate before opening the door, even though he knows he’s going to find Misha on the other side.

“So, Jared couldn’t convince you to go to karaoke, either,” Misha greets.

Jensen stares at him. He feels a little wobbly, so he holds the door handle tight. “Hey, Mish. Come inside.”

Misha makes a confused face at him, opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and walks in.

Jensen’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he’s kind of drunk so it seems logical to go over to the minibar once again and make a drink for Misha. He mixes some coke and rum for both of them and hands a tumbler over to Misha.

“Cheers,” Misha says awkwardly as he takes a drink.

They stand awkwardly at the mini fridge and drink in silence for a minute.

“So, uh,” Jensen starts. “I heard GISHWHY—GISHY—GISH—um.”

“GISHWHES,” Misha corrects affectionately.

Jensen hangs his head in embarrassment. “Yeah, uh, I heard it went well.”

“It did.” Misha scrubs a hand down his face. “Busiest week of my fucking life. I slept, like, two hours. I don’t think I saw West at all.”

“How’s he doing? West?”

“He started walking about a month ago.”

“No shit, really?”

“Yeah.” Misha smiles and looks off to the side in thought. He looks back up at Jensen sharply and asks, “What about you? How’s Dee—Danneel?”

Jensen swallows at the correction, but doesn’t say anything. “She’s good. I think, uh, Gen being pregnant is giving her baby fever.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Makes me nervous.”

Misha shifts his weight so he’s leaning against the counter. “C’mon, Jens.”

“What?”

“I know you, remember? I know you want kids.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous!”

“OK, OK,” Misha concedes through a laugh. “Do you think it’s weird that Jared is much younger than us and was not afraid at all to get married and have kids?”

“Hey, he’s not that much younger than me.”

Misha gives him a skeptical look as he takes a drink.

“Whatever. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“You invited me in, Jens.”

“You keep calling me that.”

“You keep calling me ‘Mish.’”

They stare at each other. Misha’s eyes flicker down to Jensen’s lips and back up.

“How come Jared’s not on this floor?” Misha asks as he walks toward the bed. He takes a seat on the edge of it and continues, “There were plenty of conventions where you and I practically begged to be on the same floor but never were. So how the hell did we get put on the same floor and Jared didn’t?”

Instinctively, Jensen slides onto the bed behind Misha and picks up the remote. “We didn’t beg.”

Misha scoots back a little bit and turns so he’s facing Jensen. “Speak for yourself. I tried to tell Creation they were wasting their money with separate rooms.”

“Misha,” Jensen warns.

“What? You, me and Jared. It would’ve been great.”

Jensen bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and putting a hand on his stomach to steady the sloshing liquor inside. When he looks back down, Misha is sitting next to him with his back up against the headboard. Their shoulders brush.

“So, your plan was to get drunk in your hotel room alone on a Friday night?” Misha asks.

“Yep.”

Misha tips back the rest of his drink. “Well, I guess I better catch up to you then.” He gets up and heads toward the fridge.

Jensen stares at his ass as he pours himself a drink.

“Quit staring at my ass, Jensen,” Misha says without even turning around.

Jensen’s eyes snap back to the TV. “I’m not staring at your ass.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jensen wants to chastise him again for flirting, but he was staring at his ass. He doesn’t really have a leg to stand on.

“Are we really just gonna watch TV?” Misha asks as he walks around the bed and takes his seat.

“God, you and your aversion to TV. You know you’re on TV, right?”

“Was. Past tense.”

“Syndication. Netflix soon.”

“Does anyone use Netflix?”

“Yes, Mish, people use Netflix.”

“Am I making money off residuals?” Misha asks distractedly.

“Uh, you should be. I know how much I get, but I don’t know how much number three on the call sheet gets.”

“I was number four, and that was only during my last year.”

“What?” Jensen looks over at him and realizes how close they’re sitting. He scoots away a little.

“Jim was number three.”

“Oh. Right.”

They watch about five minutes of Family Feud before Misha repositions himself away from the headboard and turns fully toward Jensen. “Do you have music on your phone?”

“Uh, why?”

“Let’s just play some music and talk. And drink. Like we’re back in college.”

“I didn’t go to college.”

[playlist]

Misha steals the remote out of Jensen’s hand and turns the TV off. He then pulls out his own phone and after a few seconds “Sister Christian” begins playing very quietly.

“Wow, hard rock—excellent choice for phone speakers,” Jensen jokes.

Misha hits his knee playfully. “Well, do you have a fucking speaker?”

Jensen thinks for a second. “No, but I have an idea.”

He gets up too quickly and has to catch his balance on the nightstand. Once steady, he heads over to his backpack and pulls out an aux cord. Sure enough, there’s a connection on the alarm clock. He takes Misha’s phone right out of his hands, plugs it in, and surprisingly the sound quality isn’t half bad.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Misha praises as he closes his eyes and lies flat on the bed. “Definitely like college.”

“I didn’t think you cared that much about music either. You said you won that Duran Duran shirt in a bet.”

“And I stole the AC/DC one from an ex. Just because I have shirts of bands I don’t really care about doesn’t mean I’m apathetic about all music.”

“What ex?”

Misha rolls his eyes and sets his tumbler on the nightstand so he can lie on his stomach. “Of course that’s what you got out of that.”

“Was it Darius?”

“Darius isn’t an ex.”

Jensen just barely stops himself from asking if Misha is dating Darius now. He doesn’t need to know. “So who then?”

“Um, his name was Clif? Clif Kostman, or something like that.”

Jensen hits him in the face with a pillow.

“OK, fine. His name was Jerome, and Vick and I had several lovely evenings with him while on a trip to Europe several years back.”

“Black guy?”

Misha looks up at Jensen with wide eyes. “I’ve dated Jews, too. Scandalous, I know," he says sarcastically. 

Jensen hits him again. “No, not that. I was wondering why a black guy had an AC/DC shirt. Not the fanbase I picture they have.”

“Well, now you’re just stereotyping.”

Jensen groans in frustration and lies down next to Misha.

Misha immediately sits up. “I’m getting one more drink and then I’m done. Want one?”

“Sure.”

“And don’t stare at my ass,” Misha teases as he walks to the bar.

Jensen stares at his ass.

“Dream Weaver” begins playing over the alarm clock. Jensen picks up Misha’s phone and scrolls through his music for a second.

“I can’t believe we’ve never talked about your taste in music,” Jensen says. “You don’t have anything on here past ‘95.”

“Ninety-six, actually. I took Tupac’s death a little too seriously.”

“You’re joking.”

“I was weird in college.” He walks around the bed again and holds a drink out to Jensen. “Here you go, babe.”

“Thanks.”

They both take a drink.

“Did I just call you ‘babe’?” Misha asks casually.

“I think so.”

“Huh.”

“Dream Weaver” fades out. “Let’s Get It On” fades in.

They both move at the same time, safely putting their drinks on the nightstand and floor before reaching for each other. Jensen tries to grab Misha’s hips, but Misha gets to Jensen first and pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. Then Misha is suddenly in Jensen’s lap kissing him senseless, and Jensen fumbles with Misha’s fly.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” Misha says breathlessly, right up against Jensen’s mouth.

“Did you really come over here with no underwear on?”

“I was about to get in the shower when Jared knocked, had to get dressed fast.” Misha bites his lower lip. “Take your pants off.”

Jensen manhandles Misha off of him so he can kick his jeans and boxer briefs off. Misha also shimmies out of his pants.

“Really?” Misha asks, pointing at Jensen’s muted orange boxer briefs.

“What? They came in a pack,” Jensen argues as he pulls Misha back onto his lap.

“No, they didn’t.” Misha goes in hard for a kiss.

Jensen grabs his hair to pull his head back. “No. They didn’t. I saw them and thought of you. Fuck you.” He seals his lips to Misha’s neck.

“Fuck me?” Misha fake laughs, but it comes out strained. “Fuck you for buying underwear that reminded you of me. That’s the—ah—” He gasps as Jensen squeezes his shaft, “That’s the sappiest shit I’ve—yeah, right there, baby—oh, fuck. Yeah.”

Misha lazily rocks in Jensen’s lap.

“Hey, babe?” Jensen says after a minute.

“Hmm?”

“There’s lube in my backpack.” He pecks Misha on the lips. “If you go get it, I’ll fuck you. Nice and slow.”

Misha grins widely as he slides off the bed. “Marvin Gaye makes you all gooey and romantic.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jensen rolls over and grabs Misha’s phone.

“So, you brought lube. Little presumptuous of you, huh?” 

Jensen hits play on “Love to Love You Baby” and is thrilled to see it’s the 17-minute version. Perfect. When he turns back around, Misha is crawling up the bed toward him.

“Good choice, babe,” Misha says as he hands him the lube. “I’ve always wanted to get fucked by Donna Summer.”

Jensen grabs him by the hips and forces him to flip over so his ass is in his face. He doesn’t even hesitate before burying his face there, sticking his tongue out to a point and pressing it against Misha’s rim.

“Oh, god,” Misha moans as he thrusts back.

Jensen squeezes one ass cheek and one thigh and works his tongue in a circle, in, out, in, out.

Then suddenly there’s something wet and cold on his cock and his hips buck up involuntarily.

“Shh, focus on Donna,” Misha says before licking Jensen’s cock again.

Jensen sets the rhythm, Misha follows it. Circle around the rim, circle around the head. It’s incredibly frustrating and not nearly enough stimulation, but Jensen is too focused on Misha’s ass to really care.

When he sneaks a finger in next to his tongue, Misha cries out and gives up on teasing his cock. Soon enough, he has two fingers inside and just barely the tip of his tongue between them.

“Jens—babe, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please. Jesus—fuck.”

“OK, OK, calm down,” Jensen says in fake annoyance as he carefully pushes a third finger in and hands Misha the lube with his other hand. “Slick me up.”

Misha huffs in indignation but complies. He lingers a little too long and slowly works his hand up and down Jensen’s shaft, causing Jensen’s fingers to lose rhythm.

“Alright, come on,” Jensen says seriously, nudging at Misha’s hip to get him to move.

As soon as Misha is off of Jensen, Jensen gets up on his knees and wraps his hands around Misha’s thighs, right where his body is folded over. He yanks him back and rests his cock right on the crease of his ass.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Misha complains. “Fuck me already.”

Jensen pinches his ass to show his annoyance at his attitude, and then he sinks all the way in to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” Jensen breathes, his head pointed at the ceiling and his eyes closed. “Oh my god, I missed this. I missed you.”

Misha makes a strangled whimpering noise in response. Jensen looks down at him and sees that his head is turned to the side, his teeth sinking into his own arm.

“Am I hurting you?” Jensen asks seriously.

Misha shakes his head vigorously without loosening his bite.

So Jensen moves his hips slow and easy, focusing all of his energy into the feel of Misha’s tight heat around him. Misha’s body clenches when Jensen pulls away and releases when he pushes in, and it’s such a mesmerizing sensation that Jensen’s tried to imitate it while jerking off. He has not been successful.

The song ends, and Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” begins.

“Are we seriously being rickrolled right now?” Jensen asks breathlessly.

“It’s a good song. Also, I'm surprised you even know what that is.”

Misha readjusts his weight onto one arm and reaches between his legs to grab his own cock. Jensen has to shift a bit sideways to accommodate. He wishes he could reach around and grab Misha’s cock for him, but they’re at an awkward angle already and that would put them at an even more awkward angle.

“I thought doggie style was supposed to be easier than this,” Jensen comments.

Misha laughs, which makes him clench almost painfully tight around Jensen’s shaft. “We’re probably too old for this bullshit.” Misha gasps as Jensen drives against his prostate. “How, um, drunk are you?”

“What?”

“How drunk are you—ah—currently?”

“Not very.” He squeezes Misha’s hips to pull him impossibly closer. Jensen is probably going to have bruises on his hipbones where Misha’s ass is ramming back into him.

“Good,” Misha responds. “I’m not either.”

They stop talking after that. Jensen doesn’t know what song comes on next, he doesn’t even know his own name by the time Misha is thrusting back and forth and exhaling a shout with each push. Jensen roams his hands up and down his back, scratching and pinching and thinking, mine mine mine.

He keeps feeling like he’s close, so he slows his movements and then speeds them up then slows then speeds up and finally, after an annoyingly long cycle of close, not close, close, not close, Jensen tenses up with his orgasm and rides it out as he feels himself release inside his boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Fuck.

Misha must’ve come before Jensen, because he’s resting on his elbows and breathing heavy. Jensen gingerly pulls out and doesn’t have enough shame to look away as his come dribbles out of Misha’s ass.

“Stop staring at my ass,” Misha says hoarsely.

Jensen laughs as he falls over and scoots up the bed. He doesn’t even have to pat the spot next to him before Misha tucks himself up against his side.

“Well,” Jensen says definitively.

Misha huffs a laugh and tickles his chest. “We should drink more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should.”

Neither of them move for a minute. Some lesser known Queen song is now playing.

It’s Misha who finally moves. Jensen folds one arm behind his head and watches as Misha walks naked across the room. Only once does Misha looks back with a somewhat shy smile.

“Quit acting like this is the first time you’ve seen me naked.”

“First time in a long time,” Jensen replies a little too sadly.

“Yep, definitely need to drink more,” Misha shouts back.

After he hands a glass to Jensen, they clink them together and then Misha leans over for a chaste kiss. He pulls back just slightly, enough for Jensen to take a drink. They look at each other and smile before Misha comes back in for a less chaste kiss. Jensen traces his thumb down Misha’s face and lets it linger on his cheek.

They drink and kiss and talk and listen to music and once the vodka and rum are both gone, they’re giggling and flirting like idiots.

Misha unplugs his phone the second an old show tune begins playing, but Jensen still manages to make fun of him for it.

“Trust me, I have much worse than Showboat on here,” he laments as he snaps a picture of Jensen.

“What are you doing?”

Misha points the phone at Jensen’s soft dick. “Spank bank.”

Jensen tries to snatch the phone away but misses. A wrestling match ensues, but Misha is more interested in taking pictures of Jensen than he is of fighting him. Jensen gives up after a minute and even strikes a few poses.

After an extremely close-up picture of his face, Misha types something out on his phone.

“Wow, you can really see your freckles in this picture.”

“What are you typing?”

“None of your business.”

Jensen doesn’t argue. He kind of wants to go for a round two, so he wishes Misha would just put his phone down and pay attention to him.

Just as Jensen is reaching over to press his fingers to the small of Misha’s back, his phone buzzes. He rolls over toward the nightstand and finds a text from Jared.

Are you with Misha? I haven’t even gone to karaoke yet, why didn’t y’all invite me?

Before Jensen can respond, Jared sends another text.

Unless...are y’all MAKING UP?? HAVING MAKEUP SEX??? Wait shit don’t answer that.

“Why does Jared know we’re hanging out?” Jensen asks seriously.

“What?”

“Did you say something to Jared? He just texted me.”

“Oh. Um.” Misha holds up his phone. “I tweeted.”

“You did what?”

“What? It was harmless.”

Jensen steals Misha’s phone and reads.

Misha Collins

@mishacollins

I’m not normally one to talk about coworkers, but Jensen jus let me take this picture of him shirtless.

Attached is a close-up shot of Jensen’s eye.

“Misha. Delete this.”

Misha laughs nervously as he takes his phone back. “Relax, Jens. It’s a joke.”

“Seriously? Dude, it’s 10 o’clock at night and you’re talking about me being shirtless. Delete it.”

“Oh my god, you’re so paranoid. C’mon, babe.” Misha presses his face to Jensen’s neck and nuzzles it. “Let’s have some more fun,” he whispers.

Jensen squirms away halfheartedly. “No. Misha! Delete the fucking picture.”

Misha moves away angrily. “God, you’re so fucking frustrating.”

“I’m frustrating? Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, Jensen, you’re fucking frustrating.” Misha gets up and pulls his jeans on. “You tell me we can’t fuck after we break up, and here we are. Fucking.” He holds his arms up in an almost comical gesture.

“Yeah, well I’m not the one announcing it to the whole world, am I?”

“You know what, I will delete the tweet. And your contact out of my phone. I won’t bother you anymore, Jensen.”

“Good! I told you I didn’t want to do this.”

“Well, you sure didn’t try to stop it half an hour ago. As long as your dick gets wet, that’s all that matters, right?”

Jensen finally gets up off the bed. “Do you even fucking remember why I didn’t want to have sex? I’m in love with you, you fucking asshole! You know how hard it’s gonna be to go back to work and not talk to you? Not see you? Have to ask Jared how you’re doing and what you’re up to? Fuck you, Misha.”

“Right, like this is my fault,” Misha says more calmly.

“You came to my room tonight.”

“Yeah, and obviously that was a mistake. Goodnight, Jensen.”

Misha slams the door on the way out.

Chapter Text

Misha quickly shuts the door behind him and stares blankly around his room for a minute. When he comes back to himself, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and deletes the tweet. Childishly, he switches over to Jensen's contact in his phone and hovers over the "delete contact" button. He glares at the screen, his jaw clenched. 

He’s a fucking idiot. So, so dumb for thinking he could just fuck Jensen and everything would be fine. There’d be no consequences. And he knew going to Jensen’s room was a terrible idea. He knew what it would lead to, that Jensen wasn’t going to be able to keep his promise of not having sex, and he went anyway.

Because he wanted to get his dick wet.

He takes the longest shower of his fucking life and crawls miserably into bed. After five minutes of lying on his back with his eyes trained on the ceiling, he decides it's not worth it to try to sleep. He turns the light on then pours himself a drink. Then another drink. And a third. 

As he's drinking, he thinks about how big of an asshole he is. His ex is in love with him, and he used that knowledge to get him in bed. And if the opportunity comes up, he'd do it again. He would rather deal with the guilt than deprive himself, which probably means that he's in love with Jensen, too. 

He follows that line of thinking with more alcohol. He doesn't want to love Jensen and he doesn't even want to think about loving Jensen. It reminds him too much of his and Vicki's ex-girlfriend, the one neither of them meant to fall in love with and then did anyway. Breaking up with her had been so hard that it had nearly destroyed their marriage. Misha told himself then that he would try really hard not to fall in love with anyone other than his wife ever again. 

He probably didn't try hard enough. 

Misha doesn't know how much time has passed when his phone buzzes with a text. 

Hey! Come down to my room and we’ll wrestle.

Come on, don’t be gay.

Misha looks at the time. “Jesus, Jared,” he complains as he types.

It’s two in the fucking morning.

COME ON!!!

Please

Wrestling sounds pretty gay.

MISHSHAHSAAAAAA

Christ.

So are you coming?

Misha doesn’t respond. His body is sore and he’s drunk off his ass, but he still drags himself into the bathroom and throws something other than pajamas on. He foregoes his shoes and stumbles toward the elevator barefoot. He definitely does not look at Jensen’s closed door as he passes.

As he’s knocking on Jared’s door, he hears multiple voices inside and considers bolting for the elevator, but then a very drunk Jared opens the door and yanks him in by the neck and Misha immediately makes eye contact with Jensen. Rob and Rich are there, too, which is a small blessing.

“OK, round two! Me and Rob,” Jared announces as he crouches down on the floor.

Rich offers Misha a drink as he takes a seat, but he declines it by saying he had way too much earlier. Jensen clears his throat. Misha looks at him, roams his eyes over his entire body where it’s sprawled out on the bed, but Jensen isn’t paying any attention to him. So he's going for casual. Misha can deal with that, even though his heart is pounding against his chest and the alcohol is doing nothing to calm his nerves.  

The one bed in the room has been scooted up against a wall, and there are pillows all over the floor acting as safety nets for the wrestling. Misha wants to protest that Rob is way too small to fight Jared, but then they begin and Rob is wiry and slippery and Jared gets completely winded and can’t pin him down. He eventually gives up and claims that he’ll puke if they keep going for much longer.

Rob and Rich wrestle next, and it takes a full five minutes for Rich to make Rob tap out.

“OK, Rich and Misha!” Jared shouts.

“How are these rounds being determined?” Misha asks without moving.

“Quit stalling and get your ass on the floor!”

“Alright, alright,” Misha gripes as he carefully makes his way to the floor and ignores how much the room is spinning.

The carpet is particularly rough on his knees, but he supposes it can’t be any worse than the sheets on Jensen’s bed were. Like a drunk loser, he actually smiles at the memory and ignores Rich’s confused look.

It’s embarrassing how quickly Rich pins him.

“Just ‘cause we taught you how to tap out doesn’t mean you have to give up so quickly, Mish,” Jensen says as Misha hauls himself up off the floor and onto the bed. Jensen has a bored expression on his face, like he's saying things just to say things and not because he's trying to rile Misha up. 

Misha gets riled up anyway. “Oh, yeah? You think you can do better against him?” he fires back lamely.

But when Jensen looks at him, the color has drained from his face. He looks scared of Misha.

"Alright, Jens, you're up!" Jared shouts, and Misha tries to hide his surprise at the nickname. He's too drunk for this. 

“Hey, how come I have to do three rounds in a row? Jared, is this fair?” Rich argues as Jensen gets on the floor.