Cloudy (Jen) With A Chance of Misha, 4/4
Continued from here
~~Misha~~
Misha dunked a piece of bread into the chocolate fondue pot in the middle of the table and chewed while he listened to his date rattle on and on about the manuscript he was writing. Jensen’s light green eyes were bright and his cheeks were rounded out from a broad smile. Misha was one hundred percent sure that he could listen with rapt attention for hours, but Jensen coughed into his hand and blushed.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he smoothed his green napkin in his lap. “I tend to go on when I talk about my projects.”
“I had no idea you write,” Misha said, purposefully not accepting his apology. The only thing he wanted was to hear more-more of anything Jensen wanted to say-except, of course, apologies. “Have you ever tried to have them published?”
“Oh,” Jensen flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I have six books on the market right now. It’s a series, but what I was telling you about, with the fairies, that’ll be a new series, if my publisher likes it.”
“Really?” Misha leaned back in his chair, shocked, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. “What’s the series?”
“I doubt you’ve heard of it,” Jensen prevaricated with a shrug. “It isn’t a huge seller.”
“Even still, tell me.”
“It’s called The Piper Peck Chronicles,” Jensen said with a hefty exhale. “It’s for kids. Girls, really.”
I know Piper Peck!” Misha lunged forward with a huge grin. He laughed and gripped the table to keep his enthusiasm contained. “I read Piper and the Peckish Papers to my class last year. But… wait… you’re Jenny Merriweather?”
“Oh god,” Jensen laughed and hid his face with his hands. “How embarrassing.”
Misha really did try to prevent his laughter from erupting, but he was so amused that there was no hope for it. He was at dinner with the very manly Jenny Merriweather, author of his favorite children’s series, about a precocious twelve-year-old girl with a penchant for solving neighborhood mysteries.
“I never should have told you,” Jensen groaned.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier,” Misha said after he’d recovered use of his faculties. “You are a famous author!”
“Hardly,” he disagreed. “No one knows what I do except my family and now you. Besides, they’ve never been best sellers.”
“Why did you write them?” Misha asked, more curious than ever by the man across from him. “If you weren’t comfortable using your own name?”
“They started out as stories for Imogen,” Jensen explained, smiling at some memory that clouded his eyes briefly. “I would tell her a little bit every night. Jared told me to write them down so she could have them when she was older, so I did.”
“So they are your first attempts at writing?”
“Nah,” Jensen laughed and dipped a piece of bread into the chocolate. “I have an MFA from UCLA.”
“You…” Misha scrunched his features together in confusion. He suddenly felt as if he had only just met Jensen for the first damn time. He had mistakenly assumed he knew everything he needed to know about the beautiful man who rocked his world with his damn lips at that bar in September. If there was one thing he hated, it was being wrong.
“I guess I got a little wrapped up in Jared’s career,” Jensen said into the silence. “He started getting more and more scripts to read, so I helped out. And then Immy came. There just wasn’t time for me to pursue writing until Jared told me to write down Piper.”
Misha’s mouth felt tired as he curved his lips into a smile. It was a good kind of tired; the kind he got after running in the evenings. Jensen was a good man; ambitious enough to earn an MFA, but caring enough to put his dreams on hold to support those he loved.
“What?” Jensen asked, shifting uncomfortably under Misha’s intense scrutiny.
“You’re amazing,” was Misha’s honest answer as he tucked several bills into the little black payment folder. He stood up from the table and held his hand out to Jensen. “Let’s go.”
Jensen took his hand without hesitation or embarrassment. He didn’t say anything as they wound their way through the crowd and out to the Range Rover. Jensen opened the passenger door and Misha slid into the seat, but he held out his arm to prevent the door from closing. He twisted so he faced Jensen, with his feet skimming the ground.
“Come here,” Misha said and Jensen stepped forward to fulfill the request. The partially closed door with its darkly tinted window hid them from view. It would have to do, as Misha did not want to wait a second longer to kiss Jensen for the first time. Well, the first time they’d both remember in the morning. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“Then stop talking about it,” Jensen said, taking another step that put him firmly between Misha’s legs. “And do it.”
Misha laughed, the sound rolling around his chest like a purr. Jensen smiled and reached for his date. The first touch of lips made Misha’s eyebrows rise. There was a softness that had been missing the night before. There was no desperation, no rushing. Their mouths opened together and shared a breath. It was delicious.
“Come home with me,” Misha murmured in between kisses that vacillated between sweet and filthy.
“No,” Jensen groaned, swore and pulled away. He pushed Misha back in his seat and ran a hand over his face. “No, not tonight, not yet.”
“Right,” Misha let his head hit the headrest. “Slowly.”
“You still interested?” Jensen asked as he looked down to toy with his keys. Misha had to smile at the sheepish stilt of his voice. He was so freaking cute when he tried to be all aloof and unaffected.
“Slow is good,” Misha said around his smile. He touched his fingers under Jensen’s chin in order to pull his face up. “I can work with slow.”
**
~~Jensen~~
Six dates with Misha had Jensen seriously reconsidering his decision to keep his clothes on. The man could sell shoes to a snake with that slick voice and those pretty words of his, but for Jensen, it was the way Misha touched him when they kissed. His long fingers were sure and strong against Jensen’s waist, or gentle and tentative as they brushed his face. There was coiled and ready passion, lurking just beneath the surface, and the fact that he held it back because Jensen asked him to was heady. But honestly? Jensen wanted Misha’s restraint to snap.
With a sigh, he put his key in his front door, ready to retreat to his bed for some serious thought about Misha naked, but before he made the effort to turn it, Jared pulled it open.
“There you are,” Jared said as Jensen freed his key. “We’ve been waiting for you. Didn’t you get my text?”
“Your text?” Jensen felt around his pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. “Shit. I must’ve left my phone at-” He clamped Misha’s name down, refusing to share it with Jared. “What are you doing here? I thought you had Immy at the hotel with you tonight.”
“She wanted to come home,” Jared shrugged and followed Jensen into the living room where Genevieve sat curled in a chair with Tyson nursing at her breast. “She’s in bed. While we’re here, we wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”
“What about it?” Jensen asked, careful to keep his eyes firmly averted as Jared sat on the arm of Genevieve’s chair.
“We want to take Im back to Texas with us.”
Jensen blinked slowly. The Christmas Festival, just two days away, signaled the start of Seattle Waldorf’s Winter Break-three full weeks without classes or PTA meetings. Jensen had been looking forward to curling up in front of the fire and introducing Imogen to the fantastical world of Narnia. He had bought the box set, thinking she would get so involved in the story that he would read himself hoarse during the hiatus. He thought they’d finish up by going to check out the latest movie in the series at the mall… maybe with Misha in tow.
He hadn’t accounted for Jared wanting to abscond to his parents’ for a traditional Padalecki Christmas. Of course Jared wanted to go home for Christmas; their family had made that same trip every single year of their relationship. It had always been Thanksgiving at the Ackles house and Christmas with the Padaleckis. It made sense for Jared to go to his family to show off his new son. But Imogen, too? With Genevieve?
“I don’t know,” Jensen started, his lips pulling down into a frown that was sure to give him wrinkles. “She might not be comfortable with that.”
“She loves my parents,” Jared said at once. He threaded his fingers together-Jensen noticed their wedding ring was still there-and hunched forward, bringing him closer to Jensen. “They’re her grandparents and they want to see her.”
“It’s not them,” Jensen said, jabbing a finger toward Genevieve, who was looking intently at Tyson, her cheeks flushed pink. Maintaining his daughter’s comfort had a tendency to make him brutally honest and frank. “It’s her.”
“She has to move beyond that,” Jared snapped. “She only hates Gen because she thinks you do.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Jensen,” Jared said, and it was a warning, but he was no longer bound to Jared so it did little more than ruffle his feathers.
“It might not be very Christian of me,” Jensen said and he had to work hard to keep his voice level so it would not travel up the stairs. “But I’m not quite to the forgive and forget stage yet. I will play the happy fucking family when Immy is around, but not right now. Right now, I can feel what I damn well please.”
“No you can’t,” Jared jumped up and moved into his ex’s personal space. “She is the mother of my child. You need to show her a little more respect.”
“The fuck I do-”
“Enough,” Genevieve said as she got to her feet. Both men looked at her, waiting as she settled Tyson-who Jensen could admit was cute as hell-into his carrier to sleep. “This has to stop. Jensen, I’m sorry. I should have quit as soon as I realized I had feelings for Jared. I am sorry I made him love me, but I can’t undo it.”
“You’re apologizing,” Jensen asked with a lifted eyebrow. “For stealing Jared?”
“Yes,” Genevieve sighed and held her hands out as if she was asking for benediction. “I’ll say it outright: I am sorry I stole Jared.”
“Jesus… Christ…” Jensen stepped away from Jared and the encroaching Genevieve. “I don’t care about that. Not anymore.”
“But…” She shot Jared a look, but he was too busy staring at Jensen with wide eyes.
“You have no idea,” Jensen chuckled and shook his head. It wasn’t funny, god damn it wasn’t funny, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t want him. You did me a big fucking favor, lady.”
“Hey,” Jared exclaimed, daring to be offended. He wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and tried to lead her from the room. “Come on, Gen, we don’t have to do this.”
“Yes we do,” she insisted, pushing out of Jared’s hold. Jensen could never say she didn’t have moxie by the truckloads. “If it’s not because I stole Jared, then why do you hate me?”
“You asked Jared to walk away from Imogen,” he said, pouring the disgust he felt into the words, aiming them like darts and taking his shot. “You’re a mother, but you have no problem asking Jared to give up his daughter. How can you come here and pretend to love Immy when your end game is to take her father away?”
“I-” She looked like Jensen had slapped her with a cinder block. Her face exploded into all-over scarlet before draining completely of color. “How did you… Jared… did you… tell him that?”
“Uh,” Jared said. “Yeah.”
“I should have known,” she said and Jensen took a little pleasure in seeing her deflate. “I only wanted him away from you, Jensen, not from Imogen. It’s always you, Jensen. Don’t you know that?”
“What?” Jensen asked at the same time Jared said: “Gen, stop.”
“He’s always going to love you best,” Genevieve continued, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that looked like she was cold rather than defensive. Jensen felt a pull of something in his gut, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t pity. “No one stands a chance against you. It’s not fair, and I had an idea that was the case, but I hoped I was wrong.”
“That’s not true,” Jared said quickly, standing in the middle of the room, halfway between Genevieve and Jensen. His head swung back and forth between them.
“Then take the ring off,” Genevieve ordered quietly. Jensen’s eyes followed hers to Jared’s left hand. “Take it off right now and put it away for good.”
The clock over the mantle ticked off a handful of seconds. Jensen could see the tension and stress roll up Jared’s spine and pull his shoulders closer to his ears. He knew in those sparse seconds that what Genevieve said was true. Jared wasn’t quite finished with Jensen; that was the reason he’d come to Seattle-and stayed; that was the reason he had hit on Misha; and that was the reason he was still wearing his ever lovin’ wedding ring.
His knees tried to buckle, but Jensen held tightly to his control. It was everything he’d hoped for… a year and a half ago. He’d held on to the hope that Jared would tire of Genevieve and come running home, begging for his forgiveness. He’d written dozens of scenarios in his head, each ending with him and Jared happy again inside their LA home with Imogen between them.
But not anymore. Now, when he envisioned moments in a happy home, Misha was there, telling embellished stories from his youth and folding junk mail into origami pigs. Yeah, it was a little soon to have those sorts of thoughts, but he didn’t try to quash them. No one had to know that he indulged in such a girly fantasy.
“Jared,” he began, girding himself with a deep breath. “Take the ring off. We are done forever. You damn near destroyed me when you left. I will never fully trust you again, so even if I would consider going back, I couldn’t do it. Not to me and sure as hell not to Immy.”
“Jensen,” Jared whispered and it was an anguished plea.
“No,” Jensen said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He did not doubt his feelings or his decision, but he did still love Jared. It was difficult to see him in pain. “I’m set on this, Jare.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Yeah,” Jensen nodded and smiled; he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah there is.”
“Misha?”
Jensen nodded again.
“Yeah,” Jared sighed. “I figured. You’re not very slick with your late-night PTA meetings and hours-long grocery store trips. Is it serious?”
“I think so,” Jensen said, working hard to keep a grin at bay.
“Imogen doesn’t know,” Jared said as he dropped onto the couch. “You haven’t told her.”
“No, of course not,” Jensen sat on the far end of the couch, angling his body toward Jared, but keeping a sizeable distance between them. He saw Genevieve slink back into her chair from the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to do that until I’m sure. She’s been through enough.”
“I really fucked up,” Jared said, rubbing at his eyes. “Didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Jensen agreed.
They sat together, the three of them, in silence, broken only by Tyson’s gentle whimpering in his sleep. Jensen wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Jared held his left hand out in front of him. Three sets of eyes trained on the silver ring that held so much emotion, memories, and intentions.
“Take it off, Jared,” Jensen said softly. He had taken care of Jared for so long; it was second nature to comfort him, to ease him into and through difficult decision. This was no different than convincing Jared that saying yes to Spiderman was an excellent career move. “We’re done, and I think you know it.”
“I…” Jared started, his hands opening and closing around nothing but air.
“You don’t want me anymore,” Jensen continued before he could hear whatever Jared wanted to say. It was not open for debate. “You wanted Genevieve and now you have her. Don’t fuck that up because you don’t want me to move on.”
Jared nodded jerkily, and Jensen could see that he’d planted the essential idea. If he sat there long enough, if he used the perfect words, Jensen could have Jared stupidly in love with Genevieve.
“You love Gen,” he said and gestured with his hand for the silently crying girl to come. He swallowed around the nickname, hating himself for facilitating the relationship that had once caused him unremitting pain. He watched as she wrapped herself around Jared’s shoulders, her dark hair sliding over them both, obscuring her face and his rapidly rising and falling chest. “I’ll always be here-as a friend-if you need me, but that’s it. You two are welcome to stay in the guest room. I’m off to bed.”
Jensen got to his feet and walked from the room, leaving the huddled pair on his couch. They could stay or they could go. It didn’t matter to him. He stopped by Imogen’s open door and watched her sleep for a moment. She slept with an intensity that made him smile. Her face was pulled in on itself, as if she were concentrating on a terrifically difficult puzzle. He wanted to smooth her brow with the pad of his thumb, but he knew that was a sure way to wake her, so he rolled away from the doorframe and continued down the hall to his room.
Genevieve and Jared’s muted voices chased him into his bedroom, but he could not make out any of their words. He collapsed onto his bed and listened to the sound of the conversation below. He hadn’t really thought what it meant to reject Jared, if it had really been rejecting him. There had been no declaration, thank God, but the truth of what Genevieve said had been evident on Jared’s face.
He had turned his back on the man he’d loved for so many years. Not too long ago, he would not have been strong enough to do that. He had to consider the possibility that he was simply trying to mask his true feelings in order to save face. And so he did. He thought long and hard, examining every twinge in his gut, every stab behind his eyes.
But he found that he was sure. He did not want Jared, even if there was no Misha to consider. If anything, he was glad (as he had told Genevieve) to be out. He didn’t want the Hollywood lifestyle, and he didn’t want Jared.
A knock on his open door drew his attention.
“Hey,” Jared said, a grimace stretching his lips wide. “I’m sorry. About all that.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “Did you guys get everything worked out?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall just inside the door. “Well, mostly. She’s upset, but says she understands. You were my first love, man. It’s not… I mean, that’s intense. I guess I just freaked out.”
“Yeah you did,” Jensen agreed with a short laugh. He pushed himself into a sitting position. “And I get it. Your first love is always a part of you, but there’s no going back, Jared.”
“I know,” Jared shifted against the wall and glanced over his shoulder, out into the hallway. “We’re going to go ahead and stay here tonight. We don’t want to take Tyson back out. It’s freezing balls out there.”
Jensen laughed at the crass weather update. “Cool,” he said. “You know where everything is.”
“Good night, Jen,” Jared said as he pushed away from the wall. “See you in the morning.”
And for once-just the once-Jensen didn’t correct his ex. Jared was his first love, too, so there was a part of him that would always love him, cater to him. They would be entangled for the rest of their lives, thanks to their much beloved daughter, but from that point forward, there would be boundaries-clear and understood boundaries.
**
~~Misha~~
“You look ridiculous,” Jensen told Misha as he helped him secure a spongy red nose to his face. “We could have done this without a clown.”
“I enjoy it,” Misha assured him. His face had been painted white with a garish red smile and purple eye shadow. His pants were Harlequin print and his shirt bright yellow. “Do you think the hat is too much?”
“Mish,” Jensen laughed and tugged at his red suspenders, bringing them closer together, which was such a good thing these days. “I don’t think there’s such a thing now that you’ve gone all in with the bowtie and the floppy shoes. How in the hell did you get so adorable?”
“It’s a burden,” Misha said with a grin. He reached out and touched Jensen’s ear and pulled back with a quarter in his hand. “Ta-da.”
“Adorable,” Jensen grabbed Misha’s hand and kissed the back, which should have been too hokey for Misha to bear, but really, it made him grin like a loon. He was mad about Jensen’s unconscious little tics and countrified sayings. “But ridiculous.”
“Daddy, come on,” Imogen squealed as she bounded into the room, her hair caught up in two bouncing pig tails. Fuckity fuck. “Madison and Dillon are already bobbing for apples.”
Jensen jerked away so quickly that Misha stumbled. He righted himself quickly enough and waved at Imogen.
“Were you kissing?” Imogen asked with one raised eyebrow. She reminded Misha of Jensen when she did that and that was just weird as shit.
“What?” Jensen yelped. “No!”
“Oh,” she twirled her hair around her finger and sucked in her lower lip. “Well, come on then. Papa and Gen are here.”
Misha watched Jensen’s face turn an unattractive shade of pale green; sea foam, he thought. They’d been so careful to keep their relationship on the DL, always mindful of Imogen. Only two days ago had Jensen caved and told Jared. He had expected that conversation to leave Jensen tetchy, but the exact opposite was true. The man was more affectionate and more open, but until Imogen knew, there was a wall between them.
“Why would she think that?” Jensen asked as soon as Imogen disappeared from the room. The sea foam was retreating into a sheen of white with freckle-shaped polka dots. “Do you think Jared told her? I’ll kill him.”
“Let’s go find out,” Misha said and wished he wasn’t dressed up like Blipo the freakin’ clown. “It will be okay, no matter what, okay?”
“I wanted to tell her,” Jensen said as they started out of the room, a respectable distance between them. “I was going to tell her before Christmas, but now she’s going to Texas with Jared and Gen. I don’t want to tell her and then ship her off for two weeks, you know?”
“You want to tell her?” He stopped in the hall and waved on a group of upper classmen. “That’s… wow. Are you sure?”
“I am,” Jensen smiled at him, and he was pretty sure that if they weren’t in the hallway of the school, there would be a kiss or at least a hand squeeze. “I want her to know you as Misha, not just as Mr. Collins. And I want her to see me happy.”
“Oh yeah?” His upper body bent toward Jensen as if he were a sunflower in the early morning sunrise. “I make you happy?”
“Hell yeah you do,” Jensen took a step closer, stopping just short of touching Misha in any way. He leaned down, positioned his lips close to Misha’s ear, and said: “And tonight, I want to make you happy.”
“Oh my god,” Misha gulped, hoping to God and Vishnu and Buddha too that he was not misinterpreting Jensen’s meaning. “Tonight-?”
“There you guys are,” Jared called from the end of the hall, a baby cradled against one shoulder. “Imogen said you were dawdling. Hurry up; If the clown doesn’t make an appearance soon, there may be bloodshed. Mrs. Dodd’s voice has reached octaves so high that I’m sure only dogs can hear her-what a godsend.”
“Sorry for the delay,” Misha said, smoothly stepping away from Jensen, who had not bothered to take distance on his own. “A slight balloon emergency, but we’re good now.”
As he approached Jared, he spied a small woman standing slightly behind him. Ah, Misha thought, the home wrecking whore.
“You must be Ms. Cortese,” Misha extended his hand and gave her his best professional (read: aloof) smile. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Please call me Gen,” she said in a voice that tried so hard not to waver. Poor little thing. She looked as sheepish as a lamb to slaughter. Of course, Misha had always loved lamb chops. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Collins. Immy has raved about you.”
“Imogen is a bright and lovely girl,” Misha said, deliberately not extending the invitation of familiarity to her. “It is a delight to have her in my class. Shall we see what pleasures await us in the gymnasium?”
“I love the outfit,” Genevieve said, gesturing to Misha’s person and sonuvabitch Misha had forgotten that he was dressed like a Ringling Brothers’ reject. Well, Round One to the whore. “It’s cool that you’re willing to make a fool of yourself in front of your students.”
“Yes, well,” Misha straightened his bowtie and inclined his head. “As Shakespeare once said: ‘A fool thinks himself wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ So, there’s that.”
Jensen’s chuckle drew Misha’s aural attention, but he kept his eyes on Genevieve to see how she would interpret the Bard’s words. Ha. Round Two to the fool.
“It’s okay, Mish,” Jensen pressed the flat of his hand to Misha’s back and bent close to his ear again. “We’ve made our peace. You can call off the attack.”
Jared laughed and hauled Gen against his side. Her face squished into chest as he hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head.
“I was looking forward to Round Three,” Jared said, grinning broadly. “I think the two of you are going to be bosom buddies in no time.”
“Did you just say bosom buddies?” Jensen asked, which was an excellent question as far as Misha was concerned. “You’re such a dork.”
“Shut it, Ackles,” Jared laughed and turned their little group toward the gymnasium doors. “Let’s go get our Festival on.”
**
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Vicki asked after the first wave of students left clutching Misha Collins Original Balloon Animal Works of Arts. “Jensen is paling around with the Cheating Ex and the Baby Mama? And you, too? I saw you come in with them.”
“There have been some great strides made in peacemaking recently,” Misha said, although he had yet to hear all of the details of that historic event.
“What does that mean?”
“That I don’t have to actively revile Gen-that’s the home wrecking whore’s name-anymore,” he said as he restocked the blue balloons on the makeshift table to his right. “Which is good because, seriously, hating someone is hard work, and you know how I feel about hard work.”
Vicki snorted and wiped the brushes they were using for face painting on a clean paper towel.
“I think tonight is the night with Jensen,” he said, trying to keep the heat out of his cheeks-and his pants.
“Oh my god,” Vicki laughed so hard she had to put down her brushes. “That was so Sixteen Candles or some shit.”
“Fuck you,” Misha said, but he had to admit to the lameness of his declaration. “Also, I think that’s actually a quote from Dirty Dancing.”
“In all seriousness,” Vicki said, her face morphing with startling ease into her Serious Look. “I’m thrilled for you. You’ve managed to keep it in your pants for over three months. That’s impressive.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to come before he gets his lips on my-hi there, kids!” Misha smiled broadly and turned on his clown charm. Imogen was amongst the group looking up at him with grins of anticipation. “What creation will you have from the Majestic Blipo?”
“Hey, Blipo,” Vicki whispered behind a cupped hand at his ear. “Just whip yourself up a cock ring out of your little balloons and you’ll be fine.”
Misha let go of the balloon he had just blown up. It soared into the air, completing two whirligigs before falling at his feet. The students laughed uproariously and cheered for him to do it again.
From across the room, he caught sight of Jensen standing in a semi-circle of parents, watching their children enjoy the Festival. Their eyes met over the crowd and Jensen winked.
And yep, Misha let go of another damn balloon.
**
~~Imogen, Age 16~~
“Dads,” Imogen called from her bedroom. She was seriously starting to freak the fudge out. It was her sixteenth birthday and she didn’t have a darn thing to wear to her party. “Daddy!”
“What’s wrong?” Jensen skidded into the room, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“Jeez, no,” she rolled her eyes and flung herself on her bed, right on top of the huge pile of clothes that no one would be caught dead wearing, especially not to their Sweet Sixteen party. “I don’t have anything to wear! How am I supposed to go to my very own party wearing these gross old things?”
“Why don’t you see what Gen sent?” Jensen asked, grinning down at her like a cat that ate the canary. “You normally like what she sends.”
“Gen sent a package?” Imogen leapt from the bed and ran from the room, yelling over her shoulder. “Is it by the door? I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”
She could hear her father laughing as she snatched up the sizeable box and darted back to her room. He already had the scissors in his hands by time she plopped on the floor. He crouched next to her, ready to ooh and ahh as appropriate.
“Hey guys,” Misha rounded the corner, his hair wet and dripping onto his white undershirt. Her dads were so gross. “Did I hear the shriek indicative of a clothing parcel from Gen?”
“We haven’t opened it yet,” Jensen said, holding out his hand to Misha. “You’re just in time.”
Imogen slit the packing tape and hastily handed the scissors off to Misha. She pulled piece after piece out, stopping to rub the soft fabrics between her fingers and hold them out for Jensen and Misha’s approval.
“I like that one best,” Jensen said an hour later, because he was the most awesome of all of her dads when it came to clothes. He would sit and let her try on clothes forever, giving his opinion and letting her, like, try stuff on a second and third time if she wasn’t sure. “You’ve always looked gorgeous in dark blue.”
“I agree,” Misha said as he rummaged through her jewelry box for the perfect accessories. “Hm. Jen, I don’t think anything in here is going to work.”
“No?” Jensen leaned back and glanced in the open box. His eyes wrinkled at the edges, which reminded Imogen just how old he was. “Ah, crap, you’re right.”
“What!” Imogen cried, hurrying over to inspect the situation herself. She was sure she had a pair of faux sapphire earrings that would be perfect with the dress.
“How about these?” Misha asked her dad, but she couldn’t see what he was holding.
“Those are perfect,” Jensen said emphatically. “It’s like they were made for her.”
“What are perfect?” Imogen asked, dancing on her tiptoes to see what the heck they were talking about anyway.
“Happy birthday, monkey,” Jensen said, closing the box and handing over a dark red jewelry box.
Imogen jumped up and down before she ever opened the box. She’d known for a long time that it was a tradition in the Collins family to give a girl turning sixteen her first piece of real jewelry. She hadn’t expected to receive it until her party, but if it was something that would match the dress, she guessed they wanted her to wear them right away.
The box opened and there sat a beautiful necklace with matching earrings. The necklace was made up of dozens of leaf shaped jewels, each surrounded by glittering diamonds that caught the light and shone brightly in her eyes. At the bottom of the necklace-dipping down to an apex that would settle low on her neck-was collection of three leaves surrounding one diamond.
“Dads,” she breathed, picking the necklace up to finger, much like she’d done the fabric in Gen’s care package. “It’s gorgeous. There’s one leaf for each of you.”
“And a diamond for you,” Misha said.
“I love it,” Imogen croaked, clutching the necklace to her chest. “I can’t wait to wear it.”
“Gen made that dress especially to match,” Jensen added with a satisfied smile. “Jared has the other part of your present.”
Her other-other dad was the one to generally spoil her relentlessly, no matter what the other two said. It was fun to watch them fight about it because in the end, her other-other dad always got his way, which meant Imogen got her way. Yeah, she loved having three dads-and an awesome stepmom.
“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Jared’s voice boomed from the foyer, followed by thunderous footsteps on the stairs.
“Im?”
“Tyson!” Imogen thrust the necklace into Jensen’s waiting hands and she ran off to tackle her baby brother. She didn’t like to admit it, but she missed the little jerk. He always tagged along with her friends when he came to visit, but whatever. She was happy to see him even if he was a butthead.
“Happy birthday!” Tyson shouted and pulled the top on a little can of compressed confetti.
“Oh no,” Jensen groaned because of all her dads, he was the one who liked things just so.
“Oooh,” Misha laughed, holding his arms up and dancing into the messy cloud of drifting papers. “Look, Jen, confetti; it’s a parade!”
Imogen and Tyson let Misha take their hands and twirl them around in a highly uncool way. She would never tell her friends about this moment. Her friends thought her dads were cool; she couldn’t let them down by telling how truly dorky they really were. Dancing in the hallway? Shah.
“Tyson,” Jared groaned as he joined the impromptu party. “I thought I told you no. Look at this mess.”
“Dad!” Imogen took a flying leap into her strongest dad’s arms. He didn’t so much as grunt as he caught her and hefted her high above his head. She squealed like a little girl even though she so wasn’t. “Where’s my present?”
“You greedy little thing,” Jared teased as he set her back on her feet. Little pieces of confetti landed in his hair and she thought that he looked very much like that last scene in Spiderman 5, where he had saved Mary Jane again and there had been a huge celebration in the streets.
“Not greedy,” she corrected him. “Just impatient. The Other Dads already gave me theirs. And Gen sent hers by mail. It’s all down to you, Pops. Give up the goods.”
“All right, you little monkey, here,” Jared reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys with a big red ribbon tied to the ring. “Happy birthday.”
“No fudgin’ way,” Imogen gaped at the keys she held. “A car? Dads… I can keep it, right?”
Jensen and Misha laughed, which was totally unfair because a car was way spoil-y.
“Of course you can,” Jensen finally said, after a brief shoving match with Jared. “Go out there and see if you like it.”
Imogen flew down the stairs with Tyson at her heels. She heard her dads exchanging greetings, slaps on the back and hugs. They would come outside, all of them together, as soon as they got their lovey-dovey how-ya-doin’-mans out of the way.
Outside, beside an adorable little green convertible-Imogen couldn’t tell, or care, what the make and model was-stood Gen. It was Gen who got her tears of happiness as they hugged hello. She saved them all for her stepmom, because while her dads were awesome, it was better to cry with a mom. They always wanted to get her to stop crying, even if she was happy. Gen understood that sometimes tears were the perfect thing.
Later that night, Imogen would put on her fancy new dress and a pair of strappy high heels and pretend to be grown up. She’d show off her new car and her amazing jewelry. She’d dance with her dads as if it was a chore.
But for now, for a few more hours, she would be her Daddys’ little girl. All three of them.
THE END
~~Misha~~
Misha dunked a piece of bread into the chocolate fondue pot in the middle of the table and chewed while he listened to his date rattle on and on about the manuscript he was writing. Jensen’s light green eyes were bright and his cheeks were rounded out from a broad smile. Misha was one hundred percent sure that he could listen with rapt attention for hours, but Jensen coughed into his hand and blushed.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he smoothed his green napkin in his lap. “I tend to go on when I talk about my projects.”
“I had no idea you write,” Misha said, purposefully not accepting his apology. The only thing he wanted was to hear more-more of anything Jensen wanted to say-except, of course, apologies. “Have you ever tried to have them published?”
“Oh,” Jensen flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I have six books on the market right now. It’s a series, but what I was telling you about, with the fairies, that’ll be a new series, if my publisher likes it.”
“Really?” Misha leaned back in his chair, shocked, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. “What’s the series?”
“I doubt you’ve heard of it,” Jensen prevaricated with a shrug. “It isn’t a huge seller.”
“Even still, tell me.”
“It’s called The Piper Peck Chronicles,” Jensen said with a hefty exhale. “It’s for kids. Girls, really.”
I know Piper Peck!” Misha lunged forward with a huge grin. He laughed and gripped the table to keep his enthusiasm contained. “I read Piper and the Peckish Papers to my class last year. But… wait… you’re Jenny Merriweather?”
“Oh god,” Jensen laughed and hid his face with his hands. “How embarrassing.”
Misha really did try to prevent his laughter from erupting, but he was so amused that there was no hope for it. He was at dinner with the very manly Jenny Merriweather, author of his favorite children’s series, about a precocious twelve-year-old girl with a penchant for solving neighborhood mysteries.
“I never should have told you,” Jensen groaned.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier,” Misha said after he’d recovered use of his faculties. “You are a famous author!”
“Hardly,” he disagreed. “No one knows what I do except my family and now you. Besides, they’ve never been best sellers.”
“Why did you write them?” Misha asked, more curious than ever by the man across from him. “If you weren’t comfortable using your own name?”
“They started out as stories for Imogen,” Jensen explained, smiling at some memory that clouded his eyes briefly. “I would tell her a little bit every night. Jared told me to write them down so she could have them when she was older, so I did.”
“So they are your first attempts at writing?”
“Nah,” Jensen laughed and dipped a piece of bread into the chocolate. “I have an MFA from UCLA.”
“You…” Misha scrunched his features together in confusion. He suddenly felt as if he had only just met Jensen for the first damn time. He had mistakenly assumed he knew everything he needed to know about the beautiful man who rocked his world with his damn lips at that bar in September. If there was one thing he hated, it was being wrong.
“I guess I got a little wrapped up in Jared’s career,” Jensen said into the silence. “He started getting more and more scripts to read, so I helped out. And then Immy came. There just wasn’t time for me to pursue writing until Jared told me to write down Piper.”
Misha’s mouth felt tired as he curved his lips into a smile. It was a good kind of tired; the kind he got after running in the evenings. Jensen was a good man; ambitious enough to earn an MFA, but caring enough to put his dreams on hold to support those he loved.
“What?” Jensen asked, shifting uncomfortably under Misha’s intense scrutiny.
“You’re amazing,” was Misha’s honest answer as he tucked several bills into the little black payment folder. He stood up from the table and held his hand out to Jensen. “Let’s go.”
Jensen took his hand without hesitation or embarrassment. He didn’t say anything as they wound their way through the crowd and out to the Range Rover. Jensen opened the passenger door and Misha slid into the seat, but he held out his arm to prevent the door from closing. He twisted so he faced Jensen, with his feet skimming the ground.
“Come here,” Misha said and Jensen stepped forward to fulfill the request. The partially closed door with its darkly tinted window hid them from view. It would have to do, as Misha did not want to wait a second longer to kiss Jensen for the first time. Well, the first time they’d both remember in the morning. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“Then stop talking about it,” Jensen said, taking another step that put him firmly between Misha’s legs. “And do it.”
Misha laughed, the sound rolling around his chest like a purr. Jensen smiled and reached for his date. The first touch of lips made Misha’s eyebrows rise. There was a softness that had been missing the night before. There was no desperation, no rushing. Their mouths opened together and shared a breath. It was delicious.
“Come home with me,” Misha murmured in between kisses that vacillated between sweet and filthy.
“No,” Jensen groaned, swore and pulled away. He pushed Misha back in his seat and ran a hand over his face. “No, not tonight, not yet.”
“Right,” Misha let his head hit the headrest. “Slowly.”
“You still interested?” Jensen asked as he looked down to toy with his keys. Misha had to smile at the sheepish stilt of his voice. He was so freaking cute when he tried to be all aloof and unaffected.
“Slow is good,” Misha said around his smile. He touched his fingers under Jensen’s chin in order to pull his face up. “I can work with slow.”
**
~~Jensen~~
Six dates with Misha had Jensen seriously reconsidering his decision to keep his clothes on. The man could sell shoes to a snake with that slick voice and those pretty words of his, but for Jensen, it was the way Misha touched him when they kissed. His long fingers were sure and strong against Jensen’s waist, or gentle and tentative as they brushed his face. There was coiled and ready passion, lurking just beneath the surface, and the fact that he held it back because Jensen asked him to was heady. But honestly? Jensen wanted Misha’s restraint to snap.
With a sigh, he put his key in his front door, ready to retreat to his bed for some serious thought about Misha naked, but before he made the effort to turn it, Jared pulled it open.
“There you are,” Jared said as Jensen freed his key. “We’ve been waiting for you. Didn’t you get my text?”
“Your text?” Jensen felt around his pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. “Shit. I must’ve left my phone at-” He clamped Misha’s name down, refusing to share it with Jared. “What are you doing here? I thought you had Immy at the hotel with you tonight.”
“She wanted to come home,” Jared shrugged and followed Jensen into the living room where Genevieve sat curled in a chair with Tyson nursing at her breast. “She’s in bed. While we’re here, we wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”
“What about it?” Jensen asked, careful to keep his eyes firmly averted as Jared sat on the arm of Genevieve’s chair.
“We want to take Im back to Texas with us.”
Jensen blinked slowly. The Christmas Festival, just two days away, signaled the start of Seattle Waldorf’s Winter Break-three full weeks without classes or PTA meetings. Jensen had been looking forward to curling up in front of the fire and introducing Imogen to the fantastical world of Narnia. He had bought the box set, thinking she would get so involved in the story that he would read himself hoarse during the hiatus. He thought they’d finish up by going to check out the latest movie in the series at the mall… maybe with Misha in tow.
He hadn’t accounted for Jared wanting to abscond to his parents’ for a traditional Padalecki Christmas. Of course Jared wanted to go home for Christmas; their family had made that same trip every single year of their relationship. It had always been Thanksgiving at the Ackles house and Christmas with the Padaleckis. It made sense for Jared to go to his family to show off his new son. But Imogen, too? With Genevieve?
“I don’t know,” Jensen started, his lips pulling down into a frown that was sure to give him wrinkles. “She might not be comfortable with that.”
“She loves my parents,” Jared said at once. He threaded his fingers together-Jensen noticed their wedding ring was still there-and hunched forward, bringing him closer to Jensen. “They’re her grandparents and they want to see her.”
“It’s not them,” Jensen said, jabbing a finger toward Genevieve, who was looking intently at Tyson, her cheeks flushed pink. Maintaining his daughter’s comfort had a tendency to make him brutally honest and frank. “It’s her.”
“She has to move beyond that,” Jared snapped. “She only hates Gen because she thinks you do.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Jensen,” Jared said, and it was a warning, but he was no longer bound to Jared so it did little more than ruffle his feathers.
“It might not be very Christian of me,” Jensen said and he had to work hard to keep his voice level so it would not travel up the stairs. “But I’m not quite to the forgive and forget stage yet. I will play the happy fucking family when Immy is around, but not right now. Right now, I can feel what I damn well please.”
“No you can’t,” Jared jumped up and moved into his ex’s personal space. “She is the mother of my child. You need to show her a little more respect.”
“The fuck I do-”
“Enough,” Genevieve said as she got to her feet. Both men looked at her, waiting as she settled Tyson-who Jensen could admit was cute as hell-into his carrier to sleep. “This has to stop. Jensen, I’m sorry. I should have quit as soon as I realized I had feelings for Jared. I am sorry I made him love me, but I can’t undo it.”
“You’re apologizing,” Jensen asked with a lifted eyebrow. “For stealing Jared?”
“Yes,” Genevieve sighed and held her hands out as if she was asking for benediction. “I’ll say it outright: I am sorry I stole Jared.”
“Jesus… Christ…” Jensen stepped away from Jared and the encroaching Genevieve. “I don’t care about that. Not anymore.”
“But…” She shot Jared a look, but he was too busy staring at Jensen with wide eyes.
“You have no idea,” Jensen chuckled and shook his head. It wasn’t funny, god damn it wasn’t funny, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t want him. You did me a big fucking favor, lady.”
“Hey,” Jared exclaimed, daring to be offended. He wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and tried to lead her from the room. “Come on, Gen, we don’t have to do this.”
“Yes we do,” she insisted, pushing out of Jared’s hold. Jensen could never say she didn’t have moxie by the truckloads. “If it’s not because I stole Jared, then why do you hate me?”
“You asked Jared to walk away from Imogen,” he said, pouring the disgust he felt into the words, aiming them like darts and taking his shot. “You’re a mother, but you have no problem asking Jared to give up his daughter. How can you come here and pretend to love Immy when your end game is to take her father away?”
“I-” She looked like Jensen had slapped her with a cinder block. Her face exploded into all-over scarlet before draining completely of color. “How did you… Jared… did you… tell him that?”
“Uh,” Jared said. “Yeah.”
“I should have known,” she said and Jensen took a little pleasure in seeing her deflate. “I only wanted him away from you, Jensen, not from Imogen. It’s always you, Jensen. Don’t you know that?”
“What?” Jensen asked at the same time Jared said: “Gen, stop.”
“He’s always going to love you best,” Genevieve continued, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that looked like she was cold rather than defensive. Jensen felt a pull of something in his gut, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t pity. “No one stands a chance against you. It’s not fair, and I had an idea that was the case, but I hoped I was wrong.”
“That’s not true,” Jared said quickly, standing in the middle of the room, halfway between Genevieve and Jensen. His head swung back and forth between them.
“Then take the ring off,” Genevieve ordered quietly. Jensen’s eyes followed hers to Jared’s left hand. “Take it off right now and put it away for good.”
The clock over the mantle ticked off a handful of seconds. Jensen could see the tension and stress roll up Jared’s spine and pull his shoulders closer to his ears. He knew in those sparse seconds that what Genevieve said was true. Jared wasn’t quite finished with Jensen; that was the reason he’d come to Seattle-and stayed; that was the reason he had hit on Misha; and that was the reason he was still wearing his ever lovin’ wedding ring.
His knees tried to buckle, but Jensen held tightly to his control. It was everything he’d hoped for… a year and a half ago. He’d held on to the hope that Jared would tire of Genevieve and come running home, begging for his forgiveness. He’d written dozens of scenarios in his head, each ending with him and Jared happy again inside their LA home with Imogen between them.
But not anymore. Now, when he envisioned moments in a happy home, Misha was there, telling embellished stories from his youth and folding junk mail into origami pigs. Yeah, it was a little soon to have those sorts of thoughts, but he didn’t try to quash them. No one had to know that he indulged in such a girly fantasy.
“Jared,” he began, girding himself with a deep breath. “Take the ring off. We are done forever. You damn near destroyed me when you left. I will never fully trust you again, so even if I would consider going back, I couldn’t do it. Not to me and sure as hell not to Immy.”
“Jensen,” Jared whispered and it was an anguished plea.
“No,” Jensen said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He did not doubt his feelings or his decision, but he did still love Jared. It was difficult to see him in pain. “I’m set on this, Jare.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Yeah,” Jensen nodded and smiled; he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah there is.”
“Misha?”
Jensen nodded again.
“Yeah,” Jared sighed. “I figured. You’re not very slick with your late-night PTA meetings and hours-long grocery store trips. Is it serious?”
“I think so,” Jensen said, working hard to keep a grin at bay.
“Imogen doesn’t know,” Jared said as he dropped onto the couch. “You haven’t told her.”
“No, of course not,” Jensen sat on the far end of the couch, angling his body toward Jared, but keeping a sizeable distance between them. He saw Genevieve slink back into her chair from the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to do that until I’m sure. She’s been through enough.”
“I really fucked up,” Jared said, rubbing at his eyes. “Didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Jensen agreed.
They sat together, the three of them, in silence, broken only by Tyson’s gentle whimpering in his sleep. Jensen wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Jared held his left hand out in front of him. Three sets of eyes trained on the silver ring that held so much emotion, memories, and intentions.
“Take it off, Jared,” Jensen said softly. He had taken care of Jared for so long; it was second nature to comfort him, to ease him into and through difficult decision. This was no different than convincing Jared that saying yes to Spiderman was an excellent career move. “We’re done, and I think you know it.”
“I…” Jared started, his hands opening and closing around nothing but air.
“You don’t want me anymore,” Jensen continued before he could hear whatever Jared wanted to say. It was not open for debate. “You wanted Genevieve and now you have her. Don’t fuck that up because you don’t want me to move on.”
Jared nodded jerkily, and Jensen could see that he’d planted the essential idea. If he sat there long enough, if he used the perfect words, Jensen could have Jared stupidly in love with Genevieve.
“You love Gen,” he said and gestured with his hand for the silently crying girl to come. He swallowed around the nickname, hating himself for facilitating the relationship that had once caused him unremitting pain. He watched as she wrapped herself around Jared’s shoulders, her dark hair sliding over them both, obscuring her face and his rapidly rising and falling chest. “I’ll always be here-as a friend-if you need me, but that’s it. You two are welcome to stay in the guest room. I’m off to bed.”
Jensen got to his feet and walked from the room, leaving the huddled pair on his couch. They could stay or they could go. It didn’t matter to him. He stopped by Imogen’s open door and watched her sleep for a moment. She slept with an intensity that made him smile. Her face was pulled in on itself, as if she were concentrating on a terrifically difficult puzzle. He wanted to smooth her brow with the pad of his thumb, but he knew that was a sure way to wake her, so he rolled away from the doorframe and continued down the hall to his room.
Genevieve and Jared’s muted voices chased him into his bedroom, but he could not make out any of their words. He collapsed onto his bed and listened to the sound of the conversation below. He hadn’t really thought what it meant to reject Jared, if it had really been rejecting him. There had been no declaration, thank God, but the truth of what Genevieve said had been evident on Jared’s face.
He had turned his back on the man he’d loved for so many years. Not too long ago, he would not have been strong enough to do that. He had to consider the possibility that he was simply trying to mask his true feelings in order to save face. And so he did. He thought long and hard, examining every twinge in his gut, every stab behind his eyes.
But he found that he was sure. He did not want Jared, even if there was no Misha to consider. If anything, he was glad (as he had told Genevieve) to be out. He didn’t want the Hollywood lifestyle, and he didn’t want Jared.
A knock on his open door drew his attention.
“Hey,” Jared said, a grimace stretching his lips wide. “I’m sorry. About all that.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “Did you guys get everything worked out?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall just inside the door. “Well, mostly. She’s upset, but says she understands. You were my first love, man. It’s not… I mean, that’s intense. I guess I just freaked out.”
“Yeah you did,” Jensen agreed with a short laugh. He pushed himself into a sitting position. “And I get it. Your first love is always a part of you, but there’s no going back, Jared.”
“I know,” Jared shifted against the wall and glanced over his shoulder, out into the hallway. “We’re going to go ahead and stay here tonight. We don’t want to take Tyson back out. It’s freezing balls out there.”
Jensen laughed at the crass weather update. “Cool,” he said. “You know where everything is.”
“Good night, Jen,” Jared said as he pushed away from the wall. “See you in the morning.”
And for once-just the once-Jensen didn’t correct his ex. Jared was his first love, too, so there was a part of him that would always love him, cater to him. They would be entangled for the rest of their lives, thanks to their much beloved daughter, but from that point forward, there would be boundaries-clear and understood boundaries.
**
~~Misha~~
“You look ridiculous,” Jensen told Misha as he helped him secure a spongy red nose to his face. “We could have done this without a clown.”
“I enjoy it,” Misha assured him. His face had been painted white with a garish red smile and purple eye shadow. His pants were Harlequin print and his shirt bright yellow. “Do you think the hat is too much?”
“Mish,” Jensen laughed and tugged at his red suspenders, bringing them closer together, which was such a good thing these days. “I don’t think there’s such a thing now that you’ve gone all in with the bowtie and the floppy shoes. How in the hell did you get so adorable?”
“It’s a burden,” Misha said with a grin. He reached out and touched Jensen’s ear and pulled back with a quarter in his hand. “Ta-da.”
“Adorable,” Jensen grabbed Misha’s hand and kissed the back, which should have been too hokey for Misha to bear, but really, it made him grin like a loon. He was mad about Jensen’s unconscious little tics and countrified sayings. “But ridiculous.”
“Daddy, come on,” Imogen squealed as she bounded into the room, her hair caught up in two bouncing pig tails. Fuckity fuck. “Madison and Dillon are already bobbing for apples.”
Jensen jerked away so quickly that Misha stumbled. He righted himself quickly enough and waved at Imogen.
“Were you kissing?” Imogen asked with one raised eyebrow. She reminded Misha of Jensen when she did that and that was just weird as shit.
“What?” Jensen yelped. “No!”
“Oh,” she twirled her hair around her finger and sucked in her lower lip. “Well, come on then. Papa and Gen are here.”
Misha watched Jensen’s face turn an unattractive shade of pale green; sea foam, he thought. They’d been so careful to keep their relationship on the DL, always mindful of Imogen. Only two days ago had Jensen caved and told Jared. He had expected that conversation to leave Jensen tetchy, but the exact opposite was true. The man was more affectionate and more open, but until Imogen knew, there was a wall between them.
“Why would she think that?” Jensen asked as soon as Imogen disappeared from the room. The sea foam was retreating into a sheen of white with freckle-shaped polka dots. “Do you think Jared told her? I’ll kill him.”
“Let’s go find out,” Misha said and wished he wasn’t dressed up like Blipo the freakin’ clown. “It will be okay, no matter what, okay?”
“I wanted to tell her,” Jensen said as they started out of the room, a respectable distance between them. “I was going to tell her before Christmas, but now she’s going to Texas with Jared and Gen. I don’t want to tell her and then ship her off for two weeks, you know?”
“You want to tell her?” He stopped in the hall and waved on a group of upper classmen. “That’s… wow. Are you sure?”
“I am,” Jensen smiled at him, and he was pretty sure that if they weren’t in the hallway of the school, there would be a kiss or at least a hand squeeze. “I want her to know you as Misha, not just as Mr. Collins. And I want her to see me happy.”
“Oh yeah?” His upper body bent toward Jensen as if he were a sunflower in the early morning sunrise. “I make you happy?”
“Hell yeah you do,” Jensen took a step closer, stopping just short of touching Misha in any way. He leaned down, positioned his lips close to Misha’s ear, and said: “And tonight, I want to make you happy.”
“Oh my god,” Misha gulped, hoping to God and Vishnu and Buddha too that he was not misinterpreting Jensen’s meaning. “Tonight-?”
“There you guys are,” Jared called from the end of the hall, a baby cradled against one shoulder. “Imogen said you were dawdling. Hurry up; If the clown doesn’t make an appearance soon, there may be bloodshed. Mrs. Dodd’s voice has reached octaves so high that I’m sure only dogs can hear her-what a godsend.”
“Sorry for the delay,” Misha said, smoothly stepping away from Jensen, who had not bothered to take distance on his own. “A slight balloon emergency, but we’re good now.”
As he approached Jared, he spied a small woman standing slightly behind him. Ah, Misha thought, the home wrecking whore.
“You must be Ms. Cortese,” Misha extended his hand and gave her his best professional (read: aloof) smile. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Please call me Gen,” she said in a voice that tried so hard not to waver. Poor little thing. She looked as sheepish as a lamb to slaughter. Of course, Misha had always loved lamb chops. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Collins. Immy has raved about you.”
“Imogen is a bright and lovely girl,” Misha said, deliberately not extending the invitation of familiarity to her. “It is a delight to have her in my class. Shall we see what pleasures await us in the gymnasium?”
“I love the outfit,” Genevieve said, gesturing to Misha’s person and sonuvabitch Misha had forgotten that he was dressed like a Ringling Brothers’ reject. Well, Round One to the whore. “It’s cool that you’re willing to make a fool of yourself in front of your students.”
“Yes, well,” Misha straightened his bowtie and inclined his head. “As Shakespeare once said: ‘A fool thinks himself wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ So, there’s that.”
Jensen’s chuckle drew Misha’s aural attention, but he kept his eyes on Genevieve to see how she would interpret the Bard’s words. Ha. Round Two to the fool.
“It’s okay, Mish,” Jensen pressed the flat of his hand to Misha’s back and bent close to his ear again. “We’ve made our peace. You can call off the attack.”
Jared laughed and hauled Gen against his side. Her face squished into chest as he hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head.
“I was looking forward to Round Three,” Jared said, grinning broadly. “I think the two of you are going to be bosom buddies in no time.”
“Did you just say bosom buddies?” Jensen asked, which was an excellent question as far as Misha was concerned. “You’re such a dork.”
“Shut it, Ackles,” Jared laughed and turned their little group toward the gymnasium doors. “Let’s go get our Festival on.”
**
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Vicki asked after the first wave of students left clutching Misha Collins Original Balloon Animal Works of Arts. “Jensen is paling around with the Cheating Ex and the Baby Mama? And you, too? I saw you come in with them.”
“There have been some great strides made in peacemaking recently,” Misha said, although he had yet to hear all of the details of that historic event.
“What does that mean?”
“That I don’t have to actively revile Gen-that’s the home wrecking whore’s name-anymore,” he said as he restocked the blue balloons on the makeshift table to his right. “Which is good because, seriously, hating someone is hard work, and you know how I feel about hard work.”
Vicki snorted and wiped the brushes they were using for face painting on a clean paper towel.
“I think tonight is the night with Jensen,” he said, trying to keep the heat out of his cheeks-and his pants.
“Oh my god,” Vicki laughed so hard she had to put down her brushes. “That was so Sixteen Candles or some shit.”
“Fuck you,” Misha said, but he had to admit to the lameness of his declaration. “Also, I think that’s actually a quote from Dirty Dancing.”
“In all seriousness,” Vicki said, her face morphing with startling ease into her Serious Look. “I’m thrilled for you. You’ve managed to keep it in your pants for over three months. That’s impressive.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to come before he gets his lips on my-hi there, kids!” Misha smiled broadly and turned on his clown charm. Imogen was amongst the group looking up at him with grins of anticipation. “What creation will you have from the Majestic Blipo?”
“Hey, Blipo,” Vicki whispered behind a cupped hand at his ear. “Just whip yourself up a cock ring out of your little balloons and you’ll be fine.”
Misha let go of the balloon he had just blown up. It soared into the air, completing two whirligigs before falling at his feet. The students laughed uproariously and cheered for him to do it again.
From across the room, he caught sight of Jensen standing in a semi-circle of parents, watching their children enjoy the Festival. Their eyes met over the crowd and Jensen winked.
And yep, Misha let go of another damn balloon.
**
~~Imogen, Age 16~~
“Dads,” Imogen called from her bedroom. She was seriously starting to freak the fudge out. It was her sixteenth birthday and she didn’t have a darn thing to wear to her party. “Daddy!”
“What’s wrong?” Jensen skidded into the room, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“Jeez, no,” she rolled her eyes and flung herself on her bed, right on top of the huge pile of clothes that no one would be caught dead wearing, especially not to their Sweet Sixteen party. “I don’t have anything to wear! How am I supposed to go to my very own party wearing these gross old things?”
“Why don’t you see what Gen sent?” Jensen asked, grinning down at her like a cat that ate the canary. “You normally like what she sends.”
“Gen sent a package?” Imogen leapt from the bed and ran from the room, yelling over her shoulder. “Is it by the door? I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”
She could hear her father laughing as she snatched up the sizeable box and darted back to her room. He already had the scissors in his hands by time she plopped on the floor. He crouched next to her, ready to ooh and ahh as appropriate.
“Hey guys,” Misha rounded the corner, his hair wet and dripping onto his white undershirt. Her dads were so gross. “Did I hear the shriek indicative of a clothing parcel from Gen?”
“We haven’t opened it yet,” Jensen said, holding out his hand to Misha. “You’re just in time.”
Imogen slit the packing tape and hastily handed the scissors off to Misha. She pulled piece after piece out, stopping to rub the soft fabrics between her fingers and hold them out for Jensen and Misha’s approval.
“I like that one best,” Jensen said an hour later, because he was the most awesome of all of her dads when it came to clothes. He would sit and let her try on clothes forever, giving his opinion and letting her, like, try stuff on a second and third time if she wasn’t sure. “You’ve always looked gorgeous in dark blue.”
“I agree,” Misha said as he rummaged through her jewelry box for the perfect accessories. “Hm. Jen, I don’t think anything in here is going to work.”
“No?” Jensen leaned back and glanced in the open box. His eyes wrinkled at the edges, which reminded Imogen just how old he was. “Ah, crap, you’re right.”
“What!” Imogen cried, hurrying over to inspect the situation herself. She was sure she had a pair of faux sapphire earrings that would be perfect with the dress.
“How about these?” Misha asked her dad, but she couldn’t see what he was holding.
“Those are perfect,” Jensen said emphatically. “It’s like they were made for her.”
“What are perfect?” Imogen asked, dancing on her tiptoes to see what the heck they were talking about anyway.
“Happy birthday, monkey,” Jensen said, closing the box and handing over a dark red jewelry box.
Imogen jumped up and down before she ever opened the box. She’d known for a long time that it was a tradition in the Collins family to give a girl turning sixteen her first piece of real jewelry. She hadn’t expected to receive it until her party, but if it was something that would match the dress, she guessed they wanted her to wear them right away.
The box opened and there sat a beautiful necklace with matching earrings. The necklace was made up of dozens of leaf shaped jewels, each surrounded by glittering diamonds that caught the light and shone brightly in her eyes. At the bottom of the necklace-dipping down to an apex that would settle low on her neck-was collection of three leaves surrounding one diamond.
“Dads,” she breathed, picking the necklace up to finger, much like she’d done the fabric in Gen’s care package. “It’s gorgeous. There’s one leaf for each of you.”
“And a diamond for you,” Misha said.
“I love it,” Imogen croaked, clutching the necklace to her chest. “I can’t wait to wear it.”
“Gen made that dress especially to match,” Jensen added with a satisfied smile. “Jared has the other part of your present.”
Her other-other dad was the one to generally spoil her relentlessly, no matter what the other two said. It was fun to watch them fight about it because in the end, her other-other dad always got his way, which meant Imogen got her way. Yeah, she loved having three dads-and an awesome stepmom.
“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Jared’s voice boomed from the foyer, followed by thunderous footsteps on the stairs.
“Im?”
“Tyson!” Imogen thrust the necklace into Jensen’s waiting hands and she ran off to tackle her baby brother. She didn’t like to admit it, but she missed the little jerk. He always tagged along with her friends when he came to visit, but whatever. She was happy to see him even if he was a butthead.
“Happy birthday!” Tyson shouted and pulled the top on a little can of compressed confetti.
“Oh no,” Jensen groaned because of all her dads, he was the one who liked things just so.
“Oooh,” Misha laughed, holding his arms up and dancing into the messy cloud of drifting papers. “Look, Jen, confetti; it’s a parade!”
Imogen and Tyson let Misha take their hands and twirl them around in a highly uncool way. She would never tell her friends about this moment. Her friends thought her dads were cool; she couldn’t let them down by telling how truly dorky they really were. Dancing in the hallway? Shah.
“Tyson,” Jared groaned as he joined the impromptu party. “I thought I told you no. Look at this mess.”
“Dad!” Imogen took a flying leap into her strongest dad’s arms. He didn’t so much as grunt as he caught her and hefted her high above his head. She squealed like a little girl even though she so wasn’t. “Where’s my present?”
“You greedy little thing,” Jared teased as he set her back on her feet. Little pieces of confetti landed in his hair and she thought that he looked very much like that last scene in Spiderman 5, where he had saved Mary Jane again and there had been a huge celebration in the streets.
“Not greedy,” she corrected him. “Just impatient. The Other Dads already gave me theirs. And Gen sent hers by mail. It’s all down to you, Pops. Give up the goods.”
“All right, you little monkey, here,” Jared reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys with a big red ribbon tied to the ring. “Happy birthday.”
“No fudgin’ way,” Imogen gaped at the keys she held. “A car? Dads… I can keep it, right?”
Jensen and Misha laughed, which was totally unfair because a car was way spoil-y.
“Of course you can,” Jensen finally said, after a brief shoving match with Jared. “Go out there and see if you like it.”
Imogen flew down the stairs with Tyson at her heels. She heard her dads exchanging greetings, slaps on the back and hugs. They would come outside, all of them together, as soon as they got their lovey-dovey how-ya-doin’-mans out of the way.
Outside, beside an adorable little green convertible-Imogen couldn’t tell, or care, what the make and model was-stood Gen. It was Gen who got her tears of happiness as they hugged hello. She saved them all for her stepmom, because while her dads were awesome, it was better to cry with a mom. They always wanted to get her to stop crying, even if she was happy. Gen understood that sometimes tears were the perfect thing.
Later that night, Imogen would put on her fancy new dress and a pair of strappy high heels and pretend to be grown up. She’d show off her new car and her amazing jewelry. She’d dance with her dads as if it was a chore.
But for now, for a few more hours, she would be her Daddys’ little girl. All three of them.
THE END