[Slash] Loveland High 03/25 - Never Quite Like This Before for hs_bingo

[masterlist415]

Title: Never Quite Like This Before
Author: anyothergirl415
Prompt: crush
Rating: R (for language)
Words: ~6,340
Warnings: AU, Mention of abuse, slight angst, inappropriate teacher lusting.
Pairings/Characters: Chad Michael Murray/Christian Kane, Michael Rosenbaum/Misha Collins, Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles
Summary: There are different levels to most things in life, it takes a certain kind of person to establish them all.
Notes: For hs_bingo. All stories are linked, go to my card here to find the correct order. As always thank you cha for looking things over for me!





A lot of people in Chad Michael Murray's life called him a douche.

It was a pretty standard part of his personality description and it hadn't taken him long to learn that depending on the person the word could have a wide variety of meanings. For instance, when the kids at school called him a douche it was never to his face and it made him laugh because they thought he'd actually hurt them or something for saying what was basically a fact. Chad would never hurt anyone - physically and yeah he felt a little guilty when it happened verbally - but people tended to make assumptions without knowing the whole truth. And Chad tended not to correct them on it.

When Jared called him a douche it was a term of affection. Chad knew because the softness in his eyes and small smile behind the word. Between them, douche was like Jared calling him BFF or some other chick oriented word. Sometimes Chad didn't think he deserved any type of nickname, especially from Jared. Because the guy got this look in his eyes at certain moments and Chad was pretty sure he was the reason behind the sadness. All because once upon a time he'd been scared of losing his friend's so he settled with one and alienated the other. It had been a horrible trade off and he could only explain so much.

Then there was Mike who was kind of different between them all in his own little bubble. Chad had never been able to define Mike. No one had.

The third and last place Chad was accustomed to hearing the word douche was at home. Of course that came within a whole stream of names and all of them were just as unpleasant as the others. It was the place Chad learned his first word - which had been asshole much to the chagrin of his Nanny - and the place he'd learned that if you wanted to eat you'd better make it yourself. It was the place he learned to judge the mood of a house from the smell of the air and that if you never wanted anyone too close, you treated them like shit. Unless you happened to have a friend like Jared Padalecki that stuck around because he always translated Chad's words for teasing.

When it came to Jared they were mostly teasing. He wasn't foolish enough to thoroughly trash the one good friend he had.

Chad remembered how he used to get caught up on things - back when he was young enough to still be surprised the world could be so cold but old enough to know there were some secrets you had to keep. He used to think Jared would figure things out, that the smile on his mom's face never quite reached her eyes or that Jared was never allowed to stay the night at Chad's but Chad was always sleeping in Jared's basement. Then he got older and thought maybe Jared was just pretending not to notice because they didn't talk about things like that.

Which was why Chad never asked Jared about not being allowed in his room. Or about the way his face had been flushed and his lips swollen when he caught Jared with Jensen behind the school a couple weeks into the new semester. Chad thought maybe they both knew each other’s secrets, and not talking about them was easier than facing reality. Also, Chad thought life had this weird way of catching up to everyone and he was pretty sure it was all going to catch up to him very, very soon.

This was possibly why Chad wasn't so surprised when he got caught in the bathroom during his second period Math. Caught by the one person he never wanted to be caught by. Christian Kane. Mr. Kane. Quite possibly the most attractive person on the face of the planet, and many other planets if Chad cared to venture thought. Which he did, quite often, and certainly a lot more than he should in regards to a teacher.

Chad's shirt was half on half off, hiked up around his neck with his arm free and hand flattening across the purple/gray bruise that spanned from just above his low rise jeans to his left nipple. It was quite large and Chad had just been considering whether it looked like Britney Spears - the shaved headed Britney Spears, not the pretend reformed one of current days - when the teacher of his dreams and fantasies pushed open the swinging door.

It was an odd moment for Chad because he'd often imagined Mr. Kane seeing him semi-naked - or completely naked really - but those dreams were rated XXX and involved a lot more panting and moaning and a lot less of the slacked jawed surprise currently plastering the notoriously tough teacher.

"Jesus Ch- holy shi- God Murray what the hell happened to you?" Kane let his fingers fall and the door swung shut. By the time it stopped opening and closing with the squeak of rusty springs the man was at his side, bent over and peering with furrowed brows.

Chad was at a loss for words. One, this oh-so-very-hot teacher was releasing little puffs of warm air on his skin and it was shooting straight to his dick like a bucket of nails to a magnet, gathering and collecting and building in mass. And two, how the hell was he supposed to explain something so ugly? "Does it look like Britney Spears to you?"

Clearly the teacher wasn't expecting that. Because Chad spent every single morning memorizing the subtle nuances of emotions drifting across that stern jaw and stormy blue eyes, he could tell the man drifted between shock, amusement, and pity in quick succession before answering. "Bald Britney? Melt down phase?"

A grin grew across Chad's face and he took the moment to step back and shove his arm back into the sleeve, wincing just slightly as he tugged the shirt down. None of the ribs were broken, which was what he'd been checking for that time. "Definitely. Don't know who she thinks she's fooling with this new act."

Apparently Chad also didn't know who he thought he was fooling by trying to pretend like the object of his teenage lust filled fantasies hadn't seen the horrific bruise on his chest. Kane straightened up but he continued to stare at Chad with a level of understanding that was slightly eerie. "Someone do that to you?"

"No. I did it to myself. I have a problem with self-loathing and am next considering asking Ackles the proper means of further mutilation." The jibe sent just the slightest flutter of annoyance through him. At himself. Because he was a douche and it sucked that his gut reaction was to trash other people instead of facing a reality too harsh for his barely tapped together psyche.

The look on Kane's face didn't need to be translated by someone who was obsessed with all the little details of him. It was clear and evident disapproval and it created the slightest lines along the edges of his eyes that Chad wanted to reach up and smooth away with the tips of his fingers. Right before he kissed him and begged him to teach him all the wonderfully glorious things that made up this world. The things Chad was pretty sure only ever happened to everybody else. Maybe that's why he couldn't talk to Jared about his transparent fucking love for Jensen Ackles.

"Did you get in a fight with someone?" Kane asked like he wouldn't be surprised if that was the answer.

Chad's reputation as the obnoxious popular boy because of classmate fear to publicly loathe was a well-known one. There were those - the occasional jock and the more beefy rejects - who held some opposition to the force and power of the ill bitten Murray however so the idea of a fight was not unlikely. "No." Chad whispered, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He was surprised by the truth he spoke, surprised by the bit of him that silently prayed Kane would poke and prod until Chad spilled the whole truth in a blubbering mess of tears and teen angst.

"So, someone just..." Kane waved his hand - Chad could see it reflected behind him though the mirror was cracked down the side and made the man's muscled arm and long calloused fingers appear disjointed and broken. "Accident?"

Every time it happened - which was sometimes a lot and other times not at all - Chad's mom would come upstairs, look him over, and give him a story. She always had a good one, like she sat around in her free time and thought them up. It sickened Chad to think she did. "I fell down the stairs. I was carrying some boxes. We're remodeling the guest room." Chad's voice was flat, disjointed, an off kilter companion to the misshapen hand still reflected in the broken glass before him.

"Didn't break anything?" Kane asked, he sounded concerned like a teacher would. Or maybe like a parent should be but Chad wouldn't know that.

"Do I look broken to you?" Chad turned from the mirror and faced the real man. He was neither disjointed nor severed and the lines around his eyes softened out and flattened away without the touch of finger tips.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Kane asked quietly and this time his concern seemed on a different level. The gravelly tone to his voice was still there. It always was, Chad thought he maybe used to smoke too much or maybe it was that country crooning he was supposedly known for but few had ever heard.

Chad did want him to answer. He wanted to know that Kane thought about him. That he was important and special in the eyes of someone outside a best friend who was loyal because he was scared to be otherwise. "It was just a fall. I got careless. Heavy furniture."

"Boxes." Kane said in almost a whisper. The lines that appeared on his face this time were sad and indented, like they were seen more often than not on that beautifully sculpted man.

Chad tried not to flush at being called on his lie. He failed but he wouldn't admit to that. "You shouldn't look so sad. It makes my heart ache." He hadn't meant to say that either.

It did however have the once desired effect of distracting the teacher from the subject of supposed falls and Britney Spears shaped bruises. "I shouldn't be affecting your heart at all."

There was something all too endearing about the shy smile on the man's face and the way he ducked his head as if to hide it. Chad used that as his reasoning for reaching out and pushing at that firm chin with one curled finger. "You're a couple of years too late for that conversation."

A couple of years equated to the last one and a half. When in the middle of Chad's Sophomore year he transferred from Mrs. Digby's British Lit to Mr. Kane's Intermediate English. On the first day Chad had watched with increasingly widening eyes as the teacher paced at the front of the room and spoke with a passion that Chad wasn't sure should be devoted to Mark Twain. Ever since Chad had never missed a class and it was the only subject he had a solid A in.

"Chad-" the teacher whispered and Chad subconsciously held his breath as he stepped closer. Hearing his first name from the man - for the first time since acknowledging the transfer almost two years ago - was like listening to the soothing patter of rain on his window panes after his father had passed out and he knew it was going to be a safe night to breathe easy again.

Then the door swung open and Kane was across the room and at the sink before Chad could release the air from his lungs. He felt the twinge of disappointment and ache in his chest and sneered at the wide eyed Freshman before pacing out of the bathroom. Not to rejoin his math class like he should but to go out back and relive the almost moment over and over again until it was a solid and never vanishing memory in his mind.

Kane caught up to him halfway down the hall. The firm grasp of fingers over his bare arm would forever be imprinted there if only because this touch wasn't one of harm or malice or unexplainable loathing. Those kind of touches seldom happened for Chad. He stopped in his place and half turned, frowning in confusion at the teacher until he let go. Chad wished he hadn't.

"If, if you ever need to talk. About things. About-" Kane gestured to his chest where the bruise would remain hidden from the rest of the world. "You know where I am."

Chad did know. He knew that Christian Kane lived three blocks over in a house by himself with a dog and a cat and a little rose bush in the middle of the lawn. He wasn't a creepy stalker like that but inquiring minds and all. "I don't need to talk about falling down the stairs." Chad whispered and tried not to stare into the man's eyes lest he drown in the pool of storm cloud blue.

Apparently attending all his English classes was doing wonders for his poetic mind. Or maybe that was just the Kane factor.

"If you fall again then." Kane shrugged and stepped back. Those lines of sadness remained etched into his face and into Chad's mind long after he'd turned and started to walk away. "Oh and Murray?"

Chad had already turned as well - something about watching Kane walk away was too painful - but he stopped again and tilted his head just slightly to look back over his shoulder. "Yeah?" He wished Kane had called him Chad again, it sounded so good coming through the gravel and wear of the man's timbre.

"I'm pretty sure your math class is the other direction."

Chad smiled at the empty hallway and nodded. He had no idea why Kane knew which class he had next but it sparked a warmth in him that couldn't be ignored. By the time he turned around, Kane had disappeared into his own room. Chad considered the options for a moment before heading back to another dull day of Algebra II equations and inappropriate teacher lusting. A whole new set of fantasies already brewing to drown out the truths.



Everything in Mike's life broke down to a simple list of facts. There were the standards, he was Michael Owen Rosenbaum, seventeen years old, five foot ten, 121 lbs. - which was maybe a little skinnier than he should be but not particularly troublesome. He had a brother named Eric and his parents were Mark and Julie, owners of several local businesses including two restaurants, a Laundromat and a beauty salon all within a five mile radius of each other. This meant the Rosenbaums were a very busy family and that Mike was often left to entertain himself as soon as he was old enough to be left alone that is.

From an early age Mike had always harbored a deep rooted love for facts. His mom said he was brilliant, could walk by nine months, was talking at a year, and one of his first memories was him playing with Jensen, Jared and Chad in the sandbox, explaining that the lady bug wasn't going to hurt them and didn't need to be captured and buried alive. Mike had no particular affinity for bugs but it was never nice in his opinion to hurt a living being. Though his friends at barely four years old weren't so keen to listen to his logic and Mike now thought of that lady bug with a sense of loss.

There were other things about Mike that he'd learned over the years which he included on his list of personal facts. Before, Mike never really cared much about sharing those facts. Not when there were so many other interesting things to be said - things people should really know even if they seemed to not care.

And then, he met Misha Collins Krushnic Collins. Or just Misha. Or the boy who moved in down the street with the floppy brown hair and bright, bright blue eyes. The boy who for some reason touched his elbow to Mike's arm in a greeting, always with a smile and a quiet observation regarding nothing in particular. Mike had known him for three weeks, two days and a handful of hours and every moment of that he considered perfect.

"I'm colorblind." Mike said by way of a greeting when he stepped up to Misha at his locker.

They didn't have any classes together but Mike walked with Misha to all of his. Even if he was fairly certain the boy knew his way around the school already. People called Mike weird, Misha just smiled and waited for him outside each door. To Mike, that was pretty much everything.

"Yeah? What colors do you see wrong?" Misha asked, closing his locker and lifting his arm.

Mike grinned as he tapped his elbow against his friend's and fell into step with him. "I don't see them wrong. Just different. Like your shirt. It's yellow."

The smile on Misha's face tripled - it was kind of amazing the way it could do that sometimes - and he looked down at the shirt, shaking his head. "It's green."

"Nope. Yellow." Mike watched Misha's hand swing down between them. Sometimes he wanted to grab that hand and thread their fingers together. He never did but a few times he got close. "Orange and red too, also purple. Used to drive my teachers crazy until I learned the difference."

"That's the first personal thing you've really told me." Misha observed and looked toward Mike, his smile dimming slightly but maybe just softened instead.

There was a stain on Misha's collar, something clearly creamy despite whatever color the shirt might be. "Your shirt has something on it."

Misha shrugged and looked away. "They usually do."

It was quiet for a few moments in a way it wasn't usually between them. Mike's mind churned over facts at a rapid pace, seeking something to say to fill the space between Misha's locker and his classroom. Sometimes Mike felt like that space had to be filled, so that Misha would remember him during the fifty or so minutes until he saw him again. "There are only four words in the English language which end in -dous: tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous."

The smile on Misha's lips was small and warm as his steps hesitated, eyes turning to the classroom and back to Mike. "I kind of think you're tremendous."

"I think I'm horrendous. Hazardous at the least." Mike grinned, arms folding over the books pressed to his chest. He liked that Misha stopped, that he hesitated before going to class. It made something warm flourish deep in the pit of stomach.

"No really, you're stupendous." Misha stepped forward and - for just a moment - Mike thought he might kiss him. Right there in the middle of the hallway. He didn't but instead lifted his arm and let his elbow poke into the middle of Mike's chest. "It's Friday."

"Hallelujah." Mike breathed. One simple little touch and his heart was racing, his skin tingling. "Big weekend plans?"

He said this at the same time Misha said, "Do you want to do something?"

They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, before Mike swallowed. "Just you and me?"

"Yeah. Just me and you." Misha hadn't left that space right in front of him yet. Their shoes were touching at the toes and Mike could sway forward and bump their noses. Then lips. If he wanted. Which he did but he didn't do it.

"There are more plastic flamingos in America than real ones." Mike breathed. It was a nervous twitch response and not at all what he'd meant to say. When Misha just continued to grin Mike looked down at his worn and frayed Puff the Magic Dragon shirt - where the dragon was yellow but that had always been normal for Mike. "You want me to come over?"

"Can, can I come over?" Misha asked in a soft whisper and there was something searching in his eyes, like a silent question for Mike to understand and not ask questions.

Despite Mike's desire for constant knowledge and wisdom in all things, he didn't ask that many questions. Maybe he liked to find things out on his own, investigate the unknown and go from there. So whatever secret Misha had - and there was a big one, Mike was pretty sure of it - would remain just that for now. "Yeah. Definitely. No one will be home." When Misha just blinked at him, Mike blushed. "Not that, it matters. Or. I should go to class."

"See you in fifty minutes." Misha grinned.

Their elbows touched once more and Mike felt something warm and pleasant in a constant wave through his system the entire way to Chemistry. When he took a seat beside Jensen at the table, the boy's eyebrows rose and Mike shrugged. "I might have kind of a date tomorrow. Or maybe we're just hanging out."

"With Misha?" Jensen asked, smiling at him because of course Jensen knew all about Mike's crush. Just like Mike knew all about Jensen's Jared thing that they maybe had never talked about.

"Yeah." Mike wet his lips, glancing up at the teacher as she entered. "Date?"

"Definitely." The note of amusement but belief in Jensen's word started a whole new wave of heat through Mike. Suddenly he really wanted it to be tomorrow.



"Jared. I know I'm not supposed to be in here but I just need a second." Chad burst into Jared's room without knocking and without caring about the lack of knocking. Jared looked surprised, eyes turning from the window he'd been staring out and widening. "Were you just staring into Ackles' room?" It hadn't been Chad's intended question and it was fairly clear Jared wasn't expecting it.

Blushing, Jared lifted his shoulders in a shrug then exhaled slowly. "What do you want Chad? You don't... come in here."

"I know I know and I'm sorry for gettin' you all butt hurt by being in your personal space." Chad snorted, eyes roaming the room. It was a treasure trove of hidden information, little bits and pieces that belong to Jared but had never been shared. Chad had always wanted to ask but never could get himself there. "You, you like him. Jensen."

Apparently it was Chad's day for throwing Jared for a loop, his eyes hadn't returned to a normal size from the moment Chad appeared. "I- it's just. It wouldn't matter anyway."

"I like someone I shouldn't." Chad offered quietly. He couldn't offer up his other secrets; there were some barriers he just couldn't cross no matter how badly he wanted to at times but this? He could share this. Jared would respect him for it and that was rare enough to have Chad latching onto the idea and imagining himself being seen as something more than an asshole. "Kane."

The smile on Jared's face grew and grew until he looked like a demented clown with floppy brown hair and perfect straight teeth. "Christian Kane? Sexy ass teacher extraordinaire? I thought you liked girls."

"I do." He did. Chad had hooked up with more than his fair share of girl's in the past. He was nowhere close to being a virgin and the more filthy rumors about him might possibly be true. "And it's not like I like cock or anything. Never- anyway. It's just him."

"Just him?" Jared's eyebrows rose and the smile softened into something more classically Padalecki. Soothing and understanding, like any moment Jared would rub the spot next to him on the bed and insist they have some quiet, one on one time. No amount of finding a man attractive could get Chad through that touchy feely crap.

So he huffed, crossed his arms over his chest and took up the chair in front of the computer instead. "Only guy I like. It's more than that though. He's just- well look. Doesn't matter. Pointless shit to feel that way about him. But you. That doesn't- it's- you know, different."

"Different?" Jared once more repeated, eyes widening again.

"What are you a fuckin' parrot? Yeah different." Chad rolled his eyes, spinning in the chair. Each time he went around the inside of his foot hit a bright red box tucked under Jared's computer desk. Bending down Chad pulled it out and stared at the Mario and Luigi lunch box. "With Jensen."

Chad was a little concerned he might actually kill Jared with this conversation. Maybe it was the unexpected quality of the subject - like Chad being this nice was completely beyond comprehension - or maybe because Chad the all-around woman's man had just confused to have a more than serious thing for their English teacher. And then there was the Jensen thing.

"I don't understand what you're saying." Jared whispered. It sounded nervous, twitchy, like he was anticipating the next blow.

God Chad was such a royal douche, making his best friend scared of him just by being in the room. When he lifted his eyes from the lunch box and met Jared's, sadness must have been transparent. Jared inhaled quickly and blinked, shifting on his bed. "I know you're like, stupid head over heels for him. I watch you watch him like he's fucking Jesus Christ or something. You just, dude. I'm a fucking asshole. I'm shit, worse than. You wanna talk to him? Fix things with him? Do it. 'Cause even if I don't deserve you for some crazy reason you're my best friend and I do want you to be happy."

"Are you-" Jared blinked a few times then smiled. Then chuckled. Then full out laughed, toppling over on his bed like this was the absolute funniest joke ever. Chad was less than amused. "Holy shit."

"Shut up Padalecki." Chad bent to pull off his shoe, tossing it at Jared and watching it bounce off his back. There was nothing funny about this. Chad was trying to be nice for God's sake. It was already pretty damn uncomfortable for him.

When Jared managed to get some control over himself his eyes were red and his cheeks were wet. He wiped along them, still hiccupping a laugh and shaking his head. "Did you just give me permission to like the guy you've been hating on our entire lives?"

"I don't," Chad frowned and shook his head. "Dude. I don't hate on him. I don't anything on him."

This got another snort from Jared but this time it was more desired. "Not that I ever needed your permission-" Jared lied; they both knew he was always looking for Chad's permission. "What makes you think he'd even want... whatever."

"You? Dude. You don't really think he doesn't stare at you the same way right?" Chad huffed, rolling his eyes. There was the faintest pinch in his heart and he considered telling Jared just what an amazing guy he really was. But even if Chad knew the right words to say he wouldn't be able to force them past the tip of tongue.

Jared worried the blanket beneath his fingertips then looked back up, lips twitching on and off in a smile. "I did, I kind of had this idea. So he'd forgive me. Hopefully."

Matching Jared's smile, Chad nodded and waved a hand his way. "Let's hear it."

"Okay." Jared clambered across the bed and it didn't hurt Chad as much as he admitted to, seeing the happiness in Jared's face at prospect of fixing things with Jensen. At that moment he decided - should it come down to it - he'd give up his friendship with Jared if it meant he could be with Jensen. "Oh and Chad? We're talking about the Kane thing."

"Fuck no." Chad shoved at Jared the moment he got close and refused to acknowledge how much he kind of did want to talk about Kane.



On Saturday morning Mike woke up early and tried not to hum while he showered. He also tried not to think about the size of Misha's smile or the sparkle in his eyes while he stood under the spray. On that subject he failed. But he didn't feel so guilty about it this time around because it had to be semi-normal for a seventeen year old to get off on someone he was crushing on and well, Jensen had said it was definitely a date. Also Mike was very seldom semi-normal anything so really, this was a good thing.

He dressed in tight red plaid pants and a Labyrinth t-shirt. It didn't so much match. He didn't so much care. While he cleaned his room and the house following he thought about all the random information he'd looked up and memorized for this day alone. Just in case things got awkward or quiet at some point. Mike wanted to have something interesting to say.

When he, Jensen, and Misha had walked home the day before after school Mike had bypassed the back path that led from Jensen's house to his own and walked Misha to the edge of his driveway. The boy had continued to smile and they bumped elbows when he promised he'd be by around one.

So far it was turning out to be the longest morning of Mike's life. Hanging out with Misha was going to be so different from hanging out with Jensen. For one, he'd known Jensen his entire life so they could not talk for hours while they played video games or watched a movie and it was completely okay. And another, Mike didn't want to kiss Jensen at all. He wanted to kiss Misha a lot.

No one was home when one o'clock came and brought Misha to his front door. Mike nearly skipped to answer the knock, beaming at the boy when he tugged the heavy wood open and watched sunlight dance across his form.

"Hi." Mike grinned, nudging his glasses up along his nose.

"Hi." Misha echoed and in one swift move stepped forward, arms sliding around Mike's middle and pulling him in close.

There was definitely no elbow touching involved, Mike was surprised for a nanosecond before his arms looped across Misha's shoulders and held him tight. Misha hugged like he needed it, like he was going to pull every ounce of support and energy from that one touch alone. They stood there wrapped in each other's arms long enough for Mike to lose count and lose just a little bit more of his heart to the boy.

When Misha pulled back his eyes were glassy and wide but his lips were curved up in a bright, genuine smile and his hand tangled up through the mess of dark hair. "Just needed a hug."

"I'm here for all your hug needing purposes." Mike said quietly and stepped back to give Misha room to come the rest of the way inside. His heart was pattering a tango in his chest and his skin felt warm and tight around his body. It was wonderful. "Soda?"

"Chocolate milk?"

"Even better." Mike grinned, leading Misha through the front hallway to the kitchen. He knew Misha was scanning the pictures of family and the country theme his mother had decorated with but that was perfectly okay. "The Bible has been translated to Klingon." Mike told Misha as he pulled out two glasses and filled each with milk.

"Well. If I could read Klingon I might read the Bible then." Misha grinned, sliding up to the counter at his side and leaning a hip against the marble top. "Have you read the Bible?"

"We're Jewish. My family." Mike shrugged, taping a spoon along each glass as he finished stirring in chocolate sauce. "But I don't actively practice or participate in anything." Mike offered a glass to Misha and leaned on the counter as well, facing him. "Are you practicing or participating in any form of deity worshiping?"

Misha drank long from the glass and when he pulled it down there was a faint stain of chocolate milk on his lip. "Grandma says I might be a little Buddhist sometimes. I don't think I'm much of anything."

"I think you're a lot of everything." The words fell like a whisper from Mike's lips and he smiled down at the glass in his hands.

There was a quiet moment, Mike used it to drain his glass of the chocolate milk and Misha must have done likewise because they both set their cups in the sink at the same time. Misha laughed quietly - the kind of laugh Mike couldn't help joining in on even as he ran the back of his hand over his lips to gather access milk.

"You wanna go to my room?" Mike suggested when it seemed just standing there facing each other in the kitchen wasn't usual behavior.

"Definitely." As his head bobbed Misha's hair almost fell into his eyes and Mike wasn't strong enough to resist reaching out to brush it back. Their eyes locked for a moment and Mike felt the air hitch in his chest.

"It's upstairs." Mike whispered, finger tips hovering on the creamy curve of Misha's cheek.

Something in Mike suggested they really should move out of the kitchen. Even if his parents weren't around - and wouldn't be for a while - and his brother was who-knew-where. It was just; Mike didn't want to have his first kiss in the kitchen that was all about his parents and their happy little world of a busy little life. He wanted it somewhere special, somewhere he could remember. And this was feeling almost like a first kiss moment.

So he hoped they could find the moment again and stepped away, snagging the wool of Misha's sweater sleeve and pulling him toward the stairs. A soft laugh from the boy trickled after them, warming Mike with each step he took.

When they got into his room Misha broke away to look around. Mike couldn't blame him. The walls were a cornucopia of the oddest things imaginable. Random cut out packages with labels that had amused him. Miscellaneous pictures and papers that created a map of the last seventeen years. Mike wondered if it seemed somewhat like a puzzle, laid out before Misha to put the pieces into place.

"The first cat show was held in 1871 in England." Mike said when enough time had passed for him to be just slightly uncomfortable with Misha's still questing gaze.

Misha turned to him and smiled, stepping away from the wall and closer. Closer. Right there in Mike's personal little bubble. "I like you Michael."

"I seem to recall you mentioning that before." Mike breathed twitching his hand out, curling into a fist at his side. "I like you too Misha."

A smile soft and gentle pulled Misha's lips up and his head tilted slightly to the side. "I didn't know. If you liked guys."

"I think I like everyone." Mike shrugged than blushed. "No. I mean. I could like everyone. But. I don't. I just like, you."

Then Misha kissed him.

Before Mike met Misha he hadn't given much thought to his first kiss. After all, he was pretty weird and Jensen said not a lot of people could get over that. Not that he should change for anyone but he might as well give up on the potential. And then Misha had come, and it was all Mike could think about.

Nothing could compare to the real thing though, soft lips just barely moving along his, bodies touching nowhere but the lips. It was warm and milky and sweet. And it was over far too fast for Mike, who's eyes remained closed behind his glasses and his body leaning forward when Misha pulled back.

"Armadillos can be housebroken." Mike whispered, eyes still closed, tongue running along them.

When Misha said nothing Mike felt the flutter of panic, like maybe he'd been really very bad and Misha had sneaked out while he was still lost in the moment. That had his eyes shooting open at lightning fast speed. But Misha was still there, smiling at him like he usually would. "Thank you," Misha breathed and pulled him forward to bring their lips together once more.

Mike had no idea what he was being thanked for but when Misha's tongue swept forward into his mouth he could only think he should be the one thanking someone.

Smiled with the Rising Sun

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