Worse Than Being Blind Part 4

[clockstopper]

Part 4:

The set goes back to normal after that.

Jensen stops showing up.

It’s how it should be, Misha tells himself. Jensen isn’t working and Misha is and all of that other stuff is a distraction and Jensen had said it was okay. He’d said there were no hard feelings and maybe they’d talk about it more later when Misha was ready to really say what he had to say.

Misha feels like he’s been saying it since he met Jensen.

It doesn’t matter though because Misha has a movie to film and he’s nothing if not professional.

“Did you say something stupid?” Torri asks him after the second day that Jensen doesn’t show up.

They have a small break while the lighting crew tries to light the beat up SUV they have to film in right now.

“I didn’t say something stupid,” Misha says.

Torri rolls her eyes.

“That means you did. Trust me. I have a bit of experience in men not saying what they really feel.”

Misha frowns. He doesn’t quite know what that means, but Torri’s got this nostalgic look on her face like she’s remembering past events and Misha knows better than to question that.

“It wasn’t like that. I just tried to tell him that I didn’t remember, but I wanted to and he took it to mean I didn’t mean it.”

Torri quirks an eyebrow.

“And you just let him keep believing that false notion?”

Misha shrugs.

“He didn’t wanna talk about it anymore. He practically ran back to his truck to drive away from the location. I thought… I didn’t want it to get weird. I…”

Torri leans in closer and Misha’s not sure how they got to this, this point where Misha feels comfortable telling her all these secrets he’s kept to himself for who knows how long. It might be the way that she knows what she’s talking about, knows all about close sets and what it feels like to lose that. She’s been to conventions and she’s just that crazy side of quirky like him. She talks about her old cast mates, the way they’d say things or do things and when she says she knows something about men not saying what they really feel, he knows she knows what she’s talking about.

She knows.

“I didn’t want to pressure him into it. He didn’t seem that comfortable with the idea,” Misha mutters.

Torri’s eyes get wide and Misha thinks, for one horrible second, that she’s going to hug him.

Instead, she punches him on the shoulder.

“You’re just so very much like I thought. I sort of hate that.”

Misha pulls a face.

“Are you calling me predictable?”

Torri nods.

“Very much so. Deep down, you’re just a person.”

Misha laughs.

“Did you think I was a robot head?”

Torri groans.

“That sounds like something you’re really, really tall friend Jared would say. And, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you’re a regular old person, no mystery, no air. Well, some air because you’re very unique, Mister Collins, but, when it comes down to it, you’re just like everyone else. Stupid with love.”

Misha smiles and he throws an arm around Torri’s shoulders.

“I guess that’s okay. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Torri snorts.

“Your secret is safe with me from the minions.”

The rest of the day goes pretty easy and Misha only wishes a handful of times that Hill was still on the set so they could go drinking.

Drinking never solved anything is the one lesson Misha is taking away from this whole experience.

He’s been home for exactly three minutes when his cell phone rings. He looks down and sees Jared’s name and sighs. He’d been expecting this call a day ago and now the fear and dread is creeping up his throat.

“Hiya,” Misha answers cheerfully, hoping that his light tone will confuse Jared.

“Dude, are you an asshole by nature or is this something you’ve had to take classes to perfect?”

No dice.

Misha sighs.

“Jared…”

“No, look, Gen told you what to say. She said she wrote it down.”

Misha glares at his phone.

“She’s a dirty, dirty liar.”

“Watch your mouth, man. That’s the possible mother of my children you’re talking about.”

“I can’t help it if she has a problem with lying. We talked, but that was it. She told me about the message and then I asked Torri and Hill about it and apparently my whole new set of co-workers thought I was dating Jensen.”

“So why aren’t you? Why is he still at my place making my dogs depressed when he could be at your apartment doing things I don’t even want to think about with you? My alone time got cut short too, dude. And I was really looking forward to some of those positions Gen mentioned.”

Misha briefly thinks about telling Jared that he just doesn’t want to know, but that would be like encouraging him to do it more.

“Because he thinks we’re not ready for that.”

There’s a pause at the other end.

“He thinks you’re not ready for that?”

Misha can hear the confusion and the disbelief and Misha thinks Jared’s probably squinting his eyes in that horribly unattractive way and Misha sighs.

“That’s what he said.”

“Now who’s the dirty, dirty liar. Man, come on. You expect me to believe that he cut his vacation short, flew to Vancouver and haunted the set of your crappy b-movie because he didn’t want to move your relationships into the ass-slapping, ultra-sweaty, man-on-man sex portion?”

Misha chokes.

“Jared.”

“Don’t even act scandalized, man. You say worse shit when you’re drunk. Remember that time after the pin episode? When you talked about some boyfriend you had in college who liked to watch you try and suck your own dick? And then you went into detail about how someone would attempt to suck their own dick? That shit’s way worse than what I just said.”

Misha shakes his head.

“Was there a point to this call?”

“Yeah, the point was to man up. Jensen wants you. Jensen has wanted you for so long I’ve started to tune out his epically girly shit. So you must have fucked it up.”

“I didn’t fuck it up.”

“I’m not going to believe otherwise so you might as well tell me so we can fix this.”

“I’m capable of handling it myself.”

“Because you did so well the first time. No. Jensen’s my best friend. I should’ve been the one to talk to you in the first place. So let’s talk this out. What exactly did you say?”

Misha sighs and he figures he’s not going to get Jared off of the phone unless he tells him something so he goes into the story, leaving out the parts that make him sound like a total jackass because, now that he’s time to reflect on it, he knows there are parts. It doesn’t leave much of a story, but the main jist is that Misha did actually fuck up.

But he’s going to fix it.

“Dude, you really fucked up.”

Misha groans.

“Yeah, I get it. I just meant…”

“Look, I don’t care how spectacularly you put your foot in your mouth, you need to fix it,” Jared says, angry and irritated and Misha’s never heard him get like this before.

“Jared…”

“No, man, you really hurt him. Like he really thought you were being serious about it even though I told him that you were drunk at the time. I mean you could totally hear it in your voice. And then you pretended like you didn’t even remember the message, which, apparently you didn’t and then you tell him you regret it. That’s fucking low man.”

Misha sighs.

“I didn’t tell him I regretted it.”

“Whatever you said, that’s how he took it. So call him and make it right. That is your first warning. If you don’t fix this by the time we have to be on set, I’m going to make the pranks I’ve played on you look like child’s play,”Jared says.

Misha doesn’t even get a chance to defend himself or say anything else at all because Jared has already hung up the phone. It’s not like he has anything prepared, but he’d at least like the chance to try and defend himself.

As half assed as it may be.

He sighs and flicks a few things on the display on his iPhone. His fingers press the screen on what would be the four button. It’s Jensen’s speed dial. One is his mom, two is his brother and three is actually a friend he talks to less than Jensen now.

He thinks the fact that Jensen has a speed dial on his phone may be a sign.

Misha takes a deep breath and presses the screen where the talk button is.

Here goes everything.

~*~

Misha had to read his iPhone manual, front and back, three times before he could figure out how to save a message to his phone forever and ever.

Jared had told him, three days after that, that Misha could just have downloaded the picture and then synced it to his iPhone.

Misha would have felt like an epic failure except for the fact that if he’d merely saved the picture, he’d be missing out on the caption.

It’s a picture of Jensen in a sombrero, sadly sans ridiculous fake mustache, and he’s holding up a bottle of his awesomely horrible beer. It sort of clashes with the Tex Mex motif Jensen had been working on, but you can’t exactly expect a man to change his beer for a little thing like artistic integrity.

A man and his beer are inseparable.

The caption isn’t much. It’s just Jensen texting, in perfect English unlike Jared, who’s English teacher mom weeps every time she gets a text from her son. It says ‘wish you were here because then this one would be on you’ and sometimes Misha takes out his phone and looks at it because he’s sad or he’s angry or he’s nervous or he just wants to.

Today is one of those nervous days.

Misha’s been nervous all day.

The phone conversation the night before with Jensen had been terse, strained and nothing like their normal, private conversations. Misha could feel the distance over the telephone lines and it had felt horrible.

But Jensen had agreed to meet Misha.

Misha’s just glad Jensen hadn’t flown back to LA, even if Supernatural filming is supposed to start up again soon and it would probably be a waste of a plane ticket. He’s glad Jensen’s staying with Jared and making Jared’s alone time with his might as well be wife hard.

He’s just glad he can see Jensen.

He thinks it’s kind of rude to invite Jensen back on the set of Stonehenge Apocalypse but Misha’s been coming home tired from all the stunts and running and Jensen had said if they were going to do this, then it had to be before things got awkward with Supernatural and everyone made fun of them.

Misha’s pretty sure they’re still going to make fun of them.

So Misha’s trying to get through his lines, trying to make it all look convincing and real, but a PA had come by fifteen minutes ago when the director had to stop to set up a camera and the PA had said that Jensen was there, waiting for Misha in Misha’s trailer.

Misha’s completely unfocused.

And the director seems to know it. His lips are pursed and he keeps yelling cut in the middle of Misha’s lines and giving Misha the stink eye. He yells things like where is your passion now and at this rate we’ll be lucky to finish on schedule and Misha’s never heard a director say that about his performance before.

He really has to fix things.

Misha’s only saving grace is that, a half hour later, something high tech and expensive has to be set up for the next scene and they’re all given a break, the director looking at Misha when he says maybe they should all take that time to go over their lines and come back better prepared.

Misha certainly hopes that will be the case.

He practically runs to his trailer, brushing off the stink eyes he’s getting from some of the other actors. He doesn’t care, he’ll fix it.

He has to fix it.

When he gets to his trailers, he flings the door open because he never locks it and Jensen knows that Misha never locks it, he sees Jensen sitting on the couch, staring at his crappy, small television.

“Hi,” Misha says.

Jensen looks over at him, face neutral and blank and Misha doesn’t think that’s a good sign.

“That took awhile.”

“Some things ran late. I’m on a break now.”

Jensen nods.

“I can see that.”

Misha frowns.

“Is this how it’s gonna be? Because we’re working way past awkward and into chilly right now.”

Jensen frowns.

“Look, I told you we could just leave it.”

“Except just leaving it has led to chilly. Imagine if we just left it for longer? Probably be more frozen then Siberia.”

Jensen sighs.

“I’m trying.”

“No you’re not. You’re angry.”

Jensen glares.

“How the fuck do you know?”

“Because I can hear it in your voice. Jared gets bitchy when he’s angry, but you get distant. You close yourself off.”

“Are you really trying to tell me I’m closed off? Half the shit you say is lies anyway.”

Misha shakes his head.

“Not when it matters. And not to people I know and care about. Just because I tell my fans a few fibs, doesn’t mean I do the same with you.”

“It’s not even about that,” Jensen mutters.

Misha steps into his trailer and closes the door behind himself.

“But it is about something I said. About the message. I swear I don’t remember what I said on it.”

“I know,” Jensen says harshly, his voice raising a bit in anger.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. Or that I regret it. I just don’t know and I don’t want you to think that just because I left some message on your machine that you owe me something. I was so drunk, I can’t even remember how I got home that night. It’s not exactly the basis for things.”

Jensen frowns, his face looking confused and he gets up off the couch and takes a step forward, closer to Misha.

“A basis for things?”

Misha shrugs, trying for nonchalant, but probably looking something closer to spastic.

“You know what I mean. It doesn’t mean you have to accept or reciprocate. I mean, if you want to, that’s fine because I’ve sort of had this crush on you for awhile and I’m pretty sure it’s gotten into wanting to pick out China patterns territory. But it doesn’t mean that you have to…”

“Misha, shut up.”

Misha closes his mouth and watches as Jensen takes another step forward and another, crowding into Misha’s space until Misha’s back is against the stupid fake counter of the too small for anything kitchen and Jensen is right there.

“You’re very confusing,” Jensen says.

Misha nods.

“So I’ve been told.”

Jensen huffs.

“Yeah, but you also aren’t.”

Misha smiles.

“So I’ve been told.”

Jensen makes a face, but doesn’t say anything. The minutes tick by, just them sharing space and Misha wonders if they’re going to talk about it, if they’re going to get it all out there because he still doesn’t know what’s going on in Jensen’s head other than some kind of misplaced anger and definitely some confusion. Misha’s ready for the big chat about life choices and partners and shared living space. He’s even got note cards on the subject.

“We are going to have to talk about this more,” Jensen says.

And Misha thinks perfect.

“Yeah, fuck that noise,” he says, pulling Jensen by the shirt closer, that last inch of space between them. His fingers unwrap from Jensen’s shirt and find Jensen’s face and before Jensen can say they really do have to talk, Misha’s kissing him.

Really kissing him.

With lips and tongues and Misha moans against Jensen’s mouth and suddenly there’s hands involved too. Hands on Misha’s face and hips, pushing them impossibly closer and grinding and Misha doesn’t need oxygen.

He just needs this.

The feel of Jensen’s stubble under his fingers, Jensen’s pulse beating rapidly. Jensen moans and nudges his leg between Misha’s, parting them and suddenly there’s more friction, awesome, sweet, glorious friction. Misha hasn’t come in his pants since he was a teenager, but he thinks he just might, right now, for Jensen.

And that’s when his trailer door flies open.

“Um… sorry to interrupt.”

Misha pulls back, but Jensen’s hands are still holding Misha’s hips flush against his own. Misha turns his head and sees David standing there, looking awkward and uncomfortable, out of place. Misha tries to smile and play it off, but it’s already past that point.

At least he didn’t walk in on something dirtier than a few kisses.

“It’s not a problem, David,” Misha says.

David tries to smile.

“It’s just, you’re needed in makeup. They’re gonna start putting the blood capsule things on your pants. You know, for when I shoot you,” David says.

Misha nods.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in just a minute.”

David raises his eyebrows.

“They want you on set in ten minutes,” he says before he steps back and closes Misha’s trailer door.

There’s a moment of quiet before Misha looks back at Jensen’s face and Jensen’s grinning.

“You really need to learn to lock your trailer door,” he says.

Misha rolls his eyes.

“It’s never been a problem before.”

Jensen nods, but he doesn’t look like he believes Misha.

“That was a quick break,” Jensen says and Misha knows he wants to tease more, but they apparently only have a few minutes.

“Yeah. They’re trying to wrap early. I don’t know why, but it’s their new mission in life.”

Jensen nods again.

“So I should go?”

Misha frowns.

“What did you do to entertain yourself before?”

“Jared brought his Playstation and we played it on your crappy television. Why?”

“I just want to be sure we’re okay.”

Jensen snorts

“I think we’re a little more than okay.”

“Yeah, well, there is that. I just don’t want…”

“Look, I can stick around. We can hash this out after you get done. It’s… it’s not a big deal. I can stick around.”

“But I don’t know how long it’s going to be. And I don’t know if they’re going to want to do more. You should probably go home and…”

Jensen grabs Misha’s hands in his own and squeezes them.

“I’ll stick around,” Jensen said, conviction in his voice and Misha nods.

“If you get bored…”

“I have a picture of you I can throw darts at.”

Misha frowns.

“I don’t have darts. Did you bring some?”

Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, you’re going to be late and then we’re gonna have to give you the diva crown instead of Jared.”

Misha glares.

“Jared earned that crown fair and square. It would be wrong to dethrone him just because I was late once on a set that he isn’t even a part of.”

Jensen snorts.

“What’re you, his lawyer?”

Misha pulls a face.

“You couldn’t pay me enough.”

Jensen lets out a loud laugh at that, sharp and barking and Misha thinks they’re okay.

This is going to be okay.

~*~

The ride back to Misha’s apartment is made in silence.

Misha had been kind of hoping Jensen would go back to Jared’s, think about the kissing and the groping a bit, but, when Misha had gotten back to his trailer, Jensen had been there. He’d been sitting on the couch, watching the dailies on the small television Misha had been given. Misha’s pretty sure he charmed the PAs into bringing him a plate of food. He’s seen Jensen do it on the Supernatural set and, while Misha can usually con them into bringing him something, they usually do it with weirded out expressions on their faces.

Misha’s pretty sure it has something to do with Jared. He just can’t prove it.

That’s not the point though.

The point is, that after Misha had wrapped what would possibly be his last day on the set of Stonehenge Apocalypse, after the hugs and slaps on the back and promises to be there the next morning for pick up shots, after the trip to wardrobe where there had been more hugs and no actual divesting of clothes. After all that, Misha had gone back to his trailer with a sick feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t quite worked out yet.

He’d hoped Jensen had gone home so they could both think about it, but part of him is really done with thinking.

Has been done with thinking for awhile.

So Jensen’s driving them back to Misha’s apartment and Misha doesn’t even know what to say. He’s usually better at filling up silences than this. Jensen’s completely fine with silences, completely fine with sitting in them and absorbing them, watching as they swirl around him until it’s gone past awkward and come back out the other side to peaceful. Misha usually envies him that ability because he can do it anywhere and it takes Misha ten days at a monastery to even get anywhere close to comfortable with it.

Instead of saying something, Misha plays with the hem of his shirt. It’s a perfectly viable alternative.

Jensen parks in front of Misha’s building and they both get out, walking towards the doors, silent, but there’s something in the air, something around them. Misha thinks it’s tension, stifling and real, like a bar that keeps them tied together, but still distant. It’s almost like going through the motions, walking across the lobby and into the elevator. Jensen presses the button for Misha’s floor and Misha just watches as he stands there, cool and collected.

Misha’s often thought about breaking down Jensen’s big wall of reserve, but right now, in the moments before the elevator doors open and let them off at his floor, Misha’s kind of stupidly grateful for it.

Somehow they get into Misha’s apartment. Jensen takes off his jacket and throws it on the couch and Misha can’t even get his tongue to work well enough to fake bitch him out for it. Instead, Misha takes off his jacket and throws it on the couch next to Jensen’s.

“Um, so…”

And it’s like all the awkwardness that they should have been filling with inane conversation comes flooding into the room, those two words from Jensen, slightly stilted and hanging in the air, causing them both to realize what this is and what is happening and Misha sees the moment that Jensen actually starts to panic about this.

Misha really wishes he would have done it during the hours he was waiting for Misha in Misha’s trailer.

“So…” Misha says, trailing off just to be a dick, but it doesn’t get the usual eye roll from Jensen.

Jensen just looks even more freaked.

“We don’t… we don’t have to do this.”

Jensen frowns.

“Are you backing out again?”

“What? No, I… I want to do this. I’m just saying. If you’re not feeling it.”

Misha could not be any less smooth if he tried.

Jensen shakes his head.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I mean you’re a co-worker. Yeah, you’re my friend and you’re cool to be around and I like talking to you. I like spending time with you, but… if we mess this up…”

Misha really hates people talking about things that haven’t happened like they’re doomed to fail because you can’t know that and you can’t live your life like that. You can’t think something is going to fail because then you’ll never do it and Misha would rather do something and regret it then not do it and always wonder.

It’s a philosophy that’s led to a lot of ridiculously, sticky situations, but it’s his philosophy.

"Can't you just be Dean Winchester right now and not want to talk about your feelings?"

Jensen frowns, lips downturned and Misha’s mind thinks about how attractive Jensen is without Misha’s consent. It used to do that often and it seems to be making a renewed mutiny.

"Do you want to have sex with Dean Winchester?"

Misha rolls his eyes.

"Who doesn't want to have sex with Dean Winchester?"

Jensen pulls a face and runs a hand through his hair.

"You're a little creepy, Mish."

"You say that like this is brand new information."

That gets a smile, a one shoulder shrug and a little puff of air like Jensen’s remembering that oh yeah, that really isn’t brand new information and he shouldn’t pretend like it is.

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Misha’s eyebrows knit together.

“Who doesn’t want to have sex with you?”

Jensen sighs and takes a step forward, his fingers twisting together, until he’s right in front of Misha and Misha knows they’ve been this close before, they’ve had to have been this close before because Dean and Castiel don’t know the meaning of personal space. Still, it feels different, that faint hum of electricity that Misha feels in his bones, the blood rushing to his ears making him dizzy and excited and nervous.

“I wasn’t asking about everyone else,” Jensen says, his fingers brushing against Misha’s.

Misha takes a deep breath.

“Of course I want to have sex with you.”

“Do you want more than sex with me?”

And Misha hears the million answers whizzing through his head, thinks about the early days on set when he thought about writing poems about Jensen’s eyes and thought up jokes to make Jensen laugh. He thinks about the minute he found out he’d be staying as Castiel, thinks about how the only person he wanted to tell was Jensen and then maybe his mom and some friends in LA who would tease him for wanting to stay in Vancouver, but mostly Jensen.

He thinks about the weeks of hiatus, the months in between shoots, how he took pictures because he thought they’d make Jensen feel something, would put Jensen in the moment with him. He thinks about how he’d wake up in the morning and check his phone for texts from Jensen even though he’d never been one of those people.

He thinks about it all and really, it all boils down to one answer.

“Yes.”

Jensen’s eyes widen, his lips part and he’s looking at Misha in an entirely new way, in a way Misha’s never seen before. Misha thinks, briefly, that Jensen’s going to ask for more, that he’s going to want to hear it all and someday Misha will tell him, he’ll spill all his secrets.

When Jensen leans forward, Misha realizes that today is not that day.

After that it’s just needy, desperate kisses, hands roaming from faces to hips. Misha’s not sure how they move from the spot they were at, much less get naked, but the next second he opens his eyes, they’re in his room, down to boxers and socks and he laughs.

“What?” Jensen asks, a perturbed look on his face.

Misha lifts his foot and wiggles his toes.

“Socks. They’ve gotta be the least sexy thing in the history of ever.”

Jensen pulls a face, lips downturned and eyes confused and Misha just laughs more. He keeps laughing until Jensen curls a hand around his hip, pulls him close until their bodies are flush against one another and Misha maybe gasps a little at the sudden pressure and friction against his cock. Jensen smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and he kisses Misha’s lips softly.

“Is this what it’s gonna be like?” Jensen asks against his lips, puffs of air moving into Misha’s mouth and Misha feels his breathing speed up.

It’s weird, intimate and dangerous in the way that his body is already reacting to Jensen’s. Misha had thought it might be like this, but it’s different when it happens.

“You should always be able to laugh at yourself. Like how, at some point, I’m totally going to laugh at you for being jealous of me acting with Hill even though you’ll never admit it,” Misha says, goofy smile on his face and Jensen laughs too, another soft push of air.

Jensen tries to glare at him, but it lacks heat.

“Shut up,” Jensen says and he leans forward again and Misha is ready for Jensen’s lips on his again.

Except Jensen leans down further, nips at Misha’s jaw, his neck and ear and Misha’s fingers press into Jensen’s back, trying to pull him in even closer. Jensen’s working on Misha’s neck, kissing and sucking and licking and biting, his hands firm on Misha’s hips, the bite of his fingers too much and not enough.

It doesn’t take much to pull Jensen down on the bed with him. Once there, the urgency returns, the need to be naked so strong, Misha feels it in his bones.

Jensen apparently didn’t get the memo.

Because instead of hurrying, he’s taking his time, kissing down Misha’s chest, looking at Misha the whole time. His eyes are dark and full of heat and Misha knows this can’t be anything other than good.

If Jensen would just get him naked already.

Instead Jensen’s reveling, taking it in and Misha loves that he likes foreplay, but it feels like he’s been hard forever, like he’s been waiting for this forever. He’s pretty sure he’s moaning, arching into Jensen’s mouth and maybe he’s talking. Maybe he’s begging Jensen for more and now and Jensen’s just holding his hips down, fingers curled into the waistband of his boxers, but not moving.

Misha thinks he’s probably going to go crazy before the night is through.

“Jensen,” he groans, his voice deep and breathy and Jensen looks up, dirty grin on his face and Misha groans again.

“We’ll get there.”

“I’d like to be there right now,” Misha says.

Jensen just smiles.

“Impatient,” he says as he leans down and kisses just above the waistband of Misha’s boxers.

“I am a font of patience. Except when you’re mouth’s involved.”

Jensen smirks and starts to pull down Misha’s boxers, slow and Misha doesn’t want to let out a noise of victory, but he’s pretty sure he fails at stomping that down when he sees Jensen’s smirk get bigger.

“My mouth, huh.”

Misha nods as best he can while lying down.

“Yeah and your hands and your face. Basically your whole general you-ness.”

Jensen snorts. He pulls Misha’s leg up and makes a show of divesting Misha of his socks.

“That must have been very distracting.”

Misha lets out a loud laugh.

“You have no idea,” Misha says.

Jensen smiles and Misha realizes he’s naked, but Jensen is not.

“You’re not naked,” Misha says.

Jensen’s smile widens.

“Should I be? Might be too distractin’,” Jensen says, his hands brushing up Misha’s side.

“Jensen, I… oh fuck,” Misha says as Jensen’s hand wraps around Misha’s cock, stroking and Misha’s hips arch way off the bed and Jensen lets out a dirty chuckle.

“You like that?”

Misha pants. Jensen leans down, his hand never breaking rhythm and this isn’t how Misha wants to come, but he can’t help the way his hips move, the way he’ll take this if this is what he’s given. Jensen’s hand on him is awesome, moving just the way he likes, precome making the slide easy and sticky.

“I wanna do all sorts of things to you,” Jensen says right into Misha’s ear, Misha’s hand curling around Jensen’s forearm to keep him close.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time. Now I got you and I’m not sure where to start.”

Misha moans.

“You getting naked would be a good start,” Misha says.

“Yeah, that what you want?”

Misha nods frantically.

“What else do you want?”

“You,” Misha says, fast and he doesn’t even need to think about it.

“You already got me. What do you want me to do to you?”

“Whatever… I…”

Misha feels like he doesn’t have the words, feels like Jensen’s keeping him on the edge even though his body wants to explode. He can feel Jensen all around him, his body against Misha’s and his skin making Misha feel like he’s on fire all over. It leaves Misha babbling, clutching for words that he has thoughts to, but no sounds.

Jensen looks incredibly smug about it all.

“Come on. Tell me,” he says and Misha tries to regain his composure enough to say anything.

He’s not usually this lost. He’s not usually without a comeback.

“Why don’t you show me what I said? So I can remember,” Misha says.

Jensen hand stutters, thumb pressing into Misha’s side just the bad side of too hard and Misha’s hisses.

“Sorry,” Jensen says and he’s not looking Misha in the eye.

Misha frowns.

“I didn’t…”

“No, it’s… where’s your condoms and lube?”

Misha’s still feeling a little lust stupid, his mind racing on hazy, but he manages to point to the nightstand. Jensen opens the top drawer and roots around, head lifting slightly to see the contents. Misha’s still a little worried that maybe he offended Jensen, but then Jensen finds what he’s looking for and lets out a ha. Misha watches as he drops the lube and condom on the bed, arms lifting him off of Misha slightly and Misha frowns.

“What?”

“You sure about this?”

Misha rolls his eyes.

“Um, yeah,” Misha says, sarcasm staining his tone.

Jensen glares.

“You can be such a dick sometimes.”

Misha smirks.

“It’s part of my charm.”

Jensen shakes his head, but he’s smiling so Misha thinks it can’t be too bad.

“It really, really isn’t.”

“Seems to be working for you,” Misha says, canting his hips and Jensen may still be wearing boxers, but those hide nothing and Misha can tell he’s been just as hard for just as long as Misha has.

Jensen shakes his head again.

“Shocker. I like dicks,” Jensen says, voice dry and deadpan.

Misha lets out a surprised laugh and it’s not that he can’t believe Jensen said it… okay it is because he can’t believe Jensen said that and it’s totally Jared humor, but it works so well with Jensen’s delivery.

Yeah, Misha knows this is going to be awesome.

“Come on. Let me rock your world already,” Misha says.

Jensen snorts.

“Think you got that the other way around.”

Misha shakes his head.

“Less talking, more getting naked and having sex. I hear it’s the best thing ever.”

Jensen still laughing, but he rolls to the side of the bed and takes off his boxers- socks too and he makes that look a lot less sexy than when he took off Misha’s socks, but that’s more than okay. He grabs the lube and Misha’s fully prepared for Jensen to be on top of him again, wants it more than anything.

Except Jensen doesn’t slide back on top of him.

Jensen opens the lube and squirts some on his fingers and then Misha watches as he moves his fingers to his own ass, questing and gentle and Misha’s eyes widen.

“This angle is for shit,” Jensen says, voice breathy and Misha can’t even look at his face because Jensen’s fingering himself and it’s unbearably hot.

“I could help,” Misha says dumbly.

Jensen smirks.

“This is my rodeo. You just get to sit and watch.”

“No audience participation at all?”

Misha’s totally not being subtle about trying to watch Jensen’s fingers, straining to see as they push into Jensen’s ass. He wants to watch Jensen’s face because he keeps hearing these awesomely hot sound come from Jensen’s mouth, but this is the show after all. This is what Jensen wants him to watch and so Misha will watch it because he can’t not.

“We’ll get there,” Jensen says, voice lazy and filled with lust and it’s the hottest thing ever.

Or so Misha thought because soon- almost too soon because Misha wants more- Jensen’s pulling his fingers out. He pushes Misha down, straddles him and grabs the condom, unrolls it on Misha’s cock and Misha has to bite his lip to keep this from getting embarrassing. Jensen slicks his cock up with lube and then…

“Oh fuck,” Misha yells.

It’s tight and heat and Jensen and he’s inside of Jensen who’s not even giving Misha time to get used to it, barely even giving himself time to adjust. He’s just moving, up and down on Misha’s cock and Misha lets out a couple of strangled yelps before his hands find Jensen’s hips. He grips them, his own hips already moving on instinct, meeting every one of Jensen’s thrusts. He tries to slow Jensen down, but Jensen’s still kind of smirking at him, mouth emitting all these delicious noises that send all the right signals to Misha’s body.

Misha’s pretty sure he’s going to die from this and he doesn’t even care.

This would be the best way to die, with Jensen on top of him, so gorgeous it almost hurts to look at. With his cock inside Jensen as Jensen rides him hard, not showy or ridiculous, but raw and passionate and Misha’s brain fires off the random thought that they could have been having this months ago.

He tries not to dwell on it.

All that matters now is that Jensen is here and they’re having sex and it’s hot and awesome and Misha’s never going to forget this. It’s one of those images, those moments, that’s going to burn into his retina and never leave his memory.

One of his hands moves from Jensen’s hips, wraps around Jensen’s cock and strokes in time with their thrusts. It breaks Jensen’s rhythm for a second, his body jerking against Misha’s and Misha wants to see him come undone.

“Fuck, Misha.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jen. Fuck. So fucking good.”

“Don’t stop, just… fuck, harder,” Jensen says like Misha ever even thought about stopping.

Jensen’s movements become more erratic, his noises higher and louder and Misha doesn’t care that they’re probably waking neighbors and pounding the headboard against the wall so hard he’s never going to get the security deposit back.

He wants to take Jensen to his house, far away and more real, where he can hear Jensen really scream.

He speeds up his strokes, pulls out all his best moves and then Jensen’s coming, hard and all over Misha’s hand and stomach. Jensen’s chanting Misha’s name and his thrusts get slower, but Misha was already almost there anyway, teetering on that edge and all it takes is that involuntary squeezing of muscle, the way Jensen yells his name like it’s the only word he knows and Misha is there.

Jensen collapses on top of him and Misha can’t breathe. Not because of Jensen’s body but because of the intensity, the way he can feel it in his toenails. Jensen’s considerate, he only lingers for a few moments before pulling off. He even pulls the condom slowly off of Misha, ties it and throws it in a haphazard direction- not that Misha cares. He rolls to the side of the bed and Misha tries to catch his breath.

Jensen’s still panting and eventually someone will have to get up and get something to clean them off. Or maybe they’ll shower together, Misha thinks, the thought leaving him warm with anticipation. They’ll have to maneuver themselves out of the wet spot and Jensen strikes Misha as the type of guy who likes to cuddle, which Misha is not opposed to. Misha’s looking forward to tomorrow when he can make some of his delicious eggs and have Jensen eat them at his small table.

Right now though, Misha’s brain still isn’t working properly and Jensen’s leg is curled around his own, arm thrown across Misha’s body and this is afterglow at its finest.

Misha loves it.

“That must have been some message,” Misha says teasingly.

Jensen lifts his head off the pillow and looks at Misha with one bleary eye. He huffs some laughter into the pillow and curls his hand around Misha’s body just that little bit tighter.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Epilogue