[Slash] A Quotable Thing: How Does it Work? Mike/Misha - 1/1

[masterlist415]

Title: A Quotable Thing: How Does it Work?
Author anyothergirl415
Pairing: Mike/Misha, minor Jensen/Jared
Words: ~5,600
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 - AU, a few dashes of angst, sizable schmoop
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, definitely fiction.
Summary: Misha was healing in his own way, Mike only hoped he could still remain strong enough to carry them both.
Notes: Fourth in the Quotable!Verse. This is for aythia because I forced convinced her to write more of her story. And, it’s her birthday! Enjoy darling! Thanks to the glorious cha for the beta and all my flist for providing some quotes!



It was raining which might clearly be proof that this whole meeting was doomed from the start. Well, maybe Mike just had this whole idea in mind that there was nothing good about meeting up with your boyfriend’s therapist or something. It was his own damn fault he was there anyway. But how could he not be curious? Misha had been seeing this stupid Chris fellow for months now and it had been helping, Misha was growing and healing and Mike wanted to be part of that.

“You have the grand gift of silence, Watson. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.” Misha’s hand settled on his thigh and squeezed, looking from the rain to Mike and back out the windshield again.

They were just kind of sitting outside this nice bright blue house and had been for five minutes at least. Throw in the ten minute drive and the twenty minutes spent getting ready for this and yeah, Mike hadn’t said much in awhile. A week and a half ago Mike had suggested he come with Misha to meet the infamous therapist Chris, back then it was a good idea, now he was second guessing.

It was curiosity more than anything that had him pushing the matter. Misha never really talked about the meetings, obviously, so Mike had noted the changes in different ways. Whenever they were in public with people - most often the J’s - Misha was quotes as usual. He was still rattling them off with practiced ease. But when they were alone, Misha began to blossom.

No, they didn’t talk. Well. Mike did, but Misha mostly listened. Every now and then - and more often than in the first part of their relationship - Misha would ask questions. It started off with little things like what and why. The more he saw Chris though, the more those little questions shifted. To things like and then what or why would she do that? To anyone else it would seem like nothing, to Mike though, it was everything.

More than anything it had Mike wondering what a usual session with his therapist was like. Did Misha have conversations with the man? Did Chris know more about Misha than Mike had been able to learn in the last year? So, a week and a half ago after they’d gone out for a celebratory dinner of their one year anniversary and after they’d tumbled into bed and thoroughly ravaged each other, Mike had asked about going along. Surprisingly, Misha seemed pleased.

That is what led to them being there and Mike wondering if he looked good enough to warrant having Misha as his own. It was all the little things. What did Chris know about him? What would he ask Mike? What sort of things could Mike do to help Misha get to the place in his life he wanted to be? Damn this was a bad idea.

“Okay, you can wipe the doe-eyed-Bambi-watching-her-mother-get-shot-and-strapped-to-the-back-of-a-van look from your face.” Misha sighed and frowned and watched Mike like he knew exactly what was going on in his head. Mike wouldn’t be all that surprised if he did.

“I know. It’s just, I don’t know this guy. And he’s helping you so that’s good but-“ Mike cut off and shrugged. The unfinished question was something like, but what if he says I’m not doing enough? What if I’m not helping you and Chris thinks we should see other people? Maybe Mike was the one who truthfully needed therapy.

"The question is not how far. The question is, do you possess the constitution, the depth of faith, to go as far is as needed?" Misha murmured and reached out to touch his jaw.

Mike knew what it meant. You didn’t spend a year madly in love with a man who spoke only in quotes without gaining some ability to decipher them. In a nut shell, Mike had to stop doubting himself and what they were because this was it. The big hoorah. And if he really wanted to spend forever with Misha - which he undoubtedly did - then he had to start believing that no amount of roadblocks thrown up between them would be enough to stop it.

"Did you ever reach a point in your life, where you say to yourself: 'This is the best I'm ever going to look, the best I'm ever going to feel, the best I'm ever going to do,' and it ain't that great?” Misha was still stroking his jaw and even if it was a quote, Mike understood. Yeah, who didn’t come to that point in their life? Likely more than once.

“You’re great just the way you are. And you make me a better person. Mash, you’re it for me and you know it.” Mike finally turned and swayed forward, letting his lips brush along Misha’s. It was a familiar warmth with the accompanying tingle of enjoyment and suddenly Mike stopped being so nervous. This wasn’t about meeting Chris or proving that their relationship was worthy. This was about Misha and making him believe that everything he was, every little part of him, was just right for Mike. That was the most important thing. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Commence to start!” Misha grinned and shoved the door open, hurtling through the rain and not stopping until he was safely under the front awning.

Mike was a bit slower in his approach because even realizing that the issue was beyond him now, it didn’t stop the less than eager anticipation to finally meet Chris. So he was a bit soaked by the time he was joining Misha in front of the large white door but that was okay. It gave him a reason to be distracted while Misha rang the doorbell.

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” Misha stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Mike’s middle, apparently not caring about his drenched form. That was alright, Mike didn’t care much about being wet either if it meant Misha crowding into his space and using the technique of ridiculous quotes to get Mike to smile.

“You would have been an awesome gangster. You could speak some Russian and make people quiver.” Mike laughed and twisted in his arms, wrapping his own around his boyfriend and pulling him in for a kiss. “You still have to speak Russian to me some time.”

“Мама? Мама! Вампиры реально?” Misha beamed at Mike, clearly pleased with himself. Mike however was unexplainably turned on by hearing the foreign language fall from his boyfriend’s lips and it was a good thing the door opened just then otherwise he might have just dragged him back to the car and thought up a real good reason to fog up the windows.

“Hello.” Chris smiled with his greeting, looking pleased to see them and obviously not nervous. Of course. Why would the therapist be nervous about meeting his patient’s boyfriend?

“Uh, hi.” Mike only half detached from Misha, turning to face the man and half smiling. “I’m Mike. I guess you knew that huh?”

“Yes I did.” Chris nodded then grinned at Misha. “Hey Misha, nice to see you. Why don’t you two come on in?”

Mike knew that most of the time Misha met up with Chris it was out in public. Jensen, who somehow knew Chris but hadn’t explained the details, said that Chris used his home as his office but gave the patient’s a choice for a more public setting if that made them feel comfortable. It definitely helped Mike on the issue; he’d rather Misha not spend time holed up in the man’s house.

“Anything to drink?” Chris offered once they were back inside and the door was shut.

“I’m okay. Mash?” Mike had dropped his arm from around Misha but he still lingered beside him, hands brushing together.

When Misha shook his head Chris nodded and led them to the living room, gesturing to the couch before taking up the opposite chair. “So, Mash, is that your nickname for Misha?”

“Uh, yeah.” Mike nodded and he already felt like he was in the middle of a therapy session. Then Misha’s hand threaded with his and it eased some of the tension crawling through him. “It was like, Misha. Then Mish. Then Mish Mash. And, Mash.” When Chris nodded and smiled just slightly Mike blinked. “Is that bad? Should I not use nicknames?”

Besides him Misha laughed softly and Chris joined in a beat later. “No, nicknames are good. It’s a sign of affection, completely normal. I was just curious.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mike nodded slowly and he wasn’t as soothed by that as he maybe should have been. Seriously, did the guy have to be so damn intimidating?

“You look pretty nervous to be here Mike, you don’t have to be. I understand you asked to come because you want to help Misha and that’s the most important thing to you.” Chris leaned forward slightly, smile growing on his face. “So you want to start with questions you might have?”

Mike had a million questions honestly. He wasn’t even sure where to begin or what would be appropriate to say with Misha sitting right there. But one glance over and Misha was simply smiling reassuringly so Mike tried his best to get over his hold ups. “Well, I. Does he talk to you?” Mike flushed and looked quickly from Chris to Misha and back. “I mean like, really talk. About things?”

Chris pursed his lips slightly but Mike was more attuned to the stiffening of Misha’s body beside him. He couldn’t get himself to look at his boyfriend though, so he stared at Chris’ cowboy boots instead. “We talk, about some things. Misha, may I share with Mike about your disorder?” Chris looked toward Misha and Mike was pleasantly surprised he’d thought to ask.

Though Misha didn’t verbally answer, he must have nodded because Chris continued after a moment. “Misha has what I’ve classified as Schizotypal personality disorder. It’s very minor, Misha doesn’t even need medication. But his childhood, some of the things he had to go, it’s a little like a wall. Misha had to separate himself from reality and he chose to do so by taking refuge in movie quotes.”

Mike didn’t know anything about diseases or whatever but nothing beginning with schizo sounded good. He swallowed thickly and looked over at Misha, sliding an arm between him and the couch and pulling him closer. “So how do I help? What makes the wall go away?”

Misha’s hand settled on Mike’s thigh and squeezed, reassuring, comforted. Chris’ smile was just the side of fond enough to make Mike think they’d actually known each other for years. He supposed that was the point of a therapist.

“We’re getting there but you can help. And you do, even if you don’t realize it. You don’t push Misha to change; he says you’re the most patient person in the world.” Chris chuckled quietly, reaching out for his glass.

This, understandably, had Mike’s eyebrows rising. “Does he?” He kind of wished Misha would tell him some of these things. Sure he was pretty, mostly secure in their relationship but everyone could do with a little reassurance. Misha’s nails dug for a moment into his thigh and Mike sighed. “I know. But just, you know me. I still worry.”

“Shouldn’t.” Misha whispered, just barely audible.

Mike realized that this was the first Misha had spoken since they’d come into the house. And it wasn’t a quote. So after he’d pressed his lips gently to Misha’s temple, he turned back to Chris. “You don’t let him talk in quotes here huh?”

Something about Chris’ smile was wry, as if he were grudgingly impressed with Mike’s ability to figure things out. “No, I haven’t for a few months now. I don’t make him talk, but he needs to have one place that doesn’t allow the easy fall back of quotes. It’s great that you don’t push him, that you work with him always, this way I can do the pushing and it won’t cause waves between you both.”

Part of Mike was quite tempted to roll his eyes and answer with a slightly annoyed, gee thanks. Then he remembered he wasn’t a sixteen year old girl and well, that would have been petty. "So I really shouldn't push him at all? The only way I can help is by doing nothing?" Needless to say, Mike was none too thrilled at the idea of being useless.

"Not nothing." Misha curled fingers under Mike's jaw so he turned and their gazes met. "Everything."

Swallowing thickly, Mike forced himself to focus on Misha alone, ignoring Chris in the effort to be reassured. "But I want to be the one you confide in. I want to hear what you really want to say. I want to be enough."

Maybe that was the real heart of the issue. Right then and maybe for awhile now he'd simply felt like he wasn’t enough. Guilt sparked through him at Misha's pained expression. His mouth opened a few times as he struggled with the words. "I love you. More than Labyrinth and, and Star Trek combined."

No one else could know how much that meant. Mike grinned and pulled him close to kiss him. "Me too." Mike’s fingers curved against Misha’s skull and into dark thick hair and he would have pressed even deeper into the kiss if Chris hadn’t cleared his throat and reminded them both of his presence. “Sorry,” Mike pulled back and chuckled softly.

“That’s okay; it’s good for you both to address issues together.” Chris laughed quietly and sipped again from his water before setting to glass down. “In truth Mike, you’re going to be the one Misha has to change with first. Until he can speak to you normally, it’s not likely he’ll be able to with anyone else. So we keep working on it, little bits at a time, and when Misha’s ready, you can support him there just as much as you do now.”

That was easy, Mike would always support Misha. He nodded and smiled, leaning into his boyfriend and holding him tight. If Misha needed to keep coming to Chris to get better than Mike would gladly get over any further hold ups he had. Because at the end of the day, Misha came home to him anyway.

-=-=-=-

The Halloween party was in full swing. The base from the speakers was pumping loud and nearly deafening but Mike couldn’t really be bothered to care. His lips were tingling pleasantly and even being in a tight green skirt and fuzzy blue sweater - and fucking high heeled shoes - couldn’t bring his mood down. Maybe because his boyfriend currently looked like Batman who’d just hooked up with some hot piece of ass in the backroom, lipstick smeared along his lips and hair sticking up in wild angles. Somewhere along the line he’d lost his mask, Mike could only smirk.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jensen stepped up to them and his eyes widened, taking in Misha’s disheveled state. “Did you get mauled or something?”

"No, bullshit, because I wasn't with a hooker today, ha-ha!" Misha called over the music and laughed, swaying into Mike’s side. He was maybe a little drunk, Mike found him incredibly adorable as per usual.

Jensen glanced over at Mike and his eyes grew flying saucer wide. “Dude. You- you make a very convincing girl.”

“Why thank you Mr. Ackles.” Mike grinned and batted his fake eyelashes. What? No one could accuse him of not completely stepping into his role. Jensen on the other hand was wearing a rather offending lime green shirt and tan pants. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

Before Jensen could answer Jared bounced up to the group. He was also wearing the lime green and tan puke combination and a wide grin. His arm dropped over Jensen’s shoulders and he was laughing already. “We’re the double mint twins! We thought it was fitting.”

Mike choked on his spit with his laugh, shaking his head roughly. Misha’s palm connected hard into his back and he held up a hand for a moment before dropping it. “Jesus that’s hilarious.”

“It’s cause of you baby,” Jared reached out and caressed Mike’s arm. There was a moment of pause while everyone turned to look at Jared and the man laughed. “I might be a little wasted.”

"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise." Misha noted dryly but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Did you tell them?” Jared asked Jensen, talking too loud and slurring his words just slightly.

Jensen groaned and shook his head. “No but now you have too.”

“Tell us what?” Mike gave in to the desire to know. Anything that had Jared grinning like such a fool had to be big. Or, it could really be as minor as Jared getting an A on a test. He was too easily amused.

“Jensen and I are gonna move in together!” Jared hollered, ending in a cheer and spinning Jensen toward him.

When their lips met Mike looked away, over at his boyfriend whose body had stiffened just slightly. Oh yeah, that would mean a lot more to Misha than Mike. Them moving in together meant Misha was now without a roommate. Clearly this was something Jensen should have spoken to Misha about before now.

“Misha,” Jensen had broken from the kiss and was reaching out for the man now, grabbing his arm. “It won’t be until the lease is up. I should have said something sooner.”

The defensive part of Mike wanted to snap something like yeah, you should have but his mind was spinning in other directions. He smiled reassuringly at Jensen before hooking his arm around Misha’s middle and dragging him off. Somehow he managed not even to stumble in his heels and Mike was pretty sure he should get really fucking hot sex as a reward for that.

Once they were outside Mike dropped his arm and cupped Misha’s jaw instead. “This isn’t a bad thing Mash. Now you can move in with me.”

Misha’s eyes widened slightly and he blinked up at Mike. His lips parted a few times and Mike could see his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve wanted to ask but I know you and I know you wouldn’t bail on Jensen. But when the lease is up, if him and Jared are getting a place together, god of course I want you living with me.” Mike flicked the blond hair of the wig over his shoulder and grinned, batting his lashes.

"Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!" Misha’s arms flailed out by his sides and no, it wasn’t really the reaction Mike was looking for.

Quite a fair bit now-a-days Misha was trying to talk normally to him. Small bits and pieces sure but whenever he resorted to quotes and they were alone, Mike knew it was because he was feeling a little overwhelmed. It didn’t seem like moving in together should make Misha feel that way, not when the man had been talking about marriage months before. “What? You think I won’t like living with you? God Mash, you might as well live with me now, you’re over all the time or I’m over there. This would just mean less walking.”

“One question: do you need someone, or do you need me?” Misha pursed his lips and it looked like he regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Forget it, I don't really care.”

It was too late though, Misha had said the words and he never did that lightly. No, he looked them up, he memorized them, stored them away for the moment in which he’d need them most. That was apparently now. “So what? You think I’m just so attached to the idea of being with someone I’m clinging to you? Really Misha? You really think that’s all it is?”

Why did they keep ending up in these positions? Why didn’t Misha believe him when he swore up and down how much he loved the man, how he would do anything to help him, to be with him? Mike should get a fucking award for the level of patience he had but he wouldn’t want it. Because all he wanted was Misha, even now when the man looked scared and sad and broken.

“Why don’t you believe that you’re enough for me?” Mike whispered and it felt like far too serious a conversation to be having while he was dressed up as a fucking blond hooker. Mike considered pulling the wig off but it probably wouldn’t do much beside making him look like a freak in a green mini skirt and not matching blue sweater. “Don’t you think I can just love you as you? Do you really think I need perfection because god Misha I don’t. I really don’t. I need you.”

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he'll tell you the truth." Misha muttered and shook his head.

And that?

For whatever the reason it was Mike’s breaking point. It wasn’t the quotes. Fuck he was used to those. They were normal and daily routine and Mike could deal with that. But he couldn’t deal with Misha thinking his feelings were anything but genuine. For more than a year now he’d proved it over and over and Mike had simply had enough. There went his award for stellar patience right out the proverbial window.

“Fuck this.” Mike spat and shook his head roughly, taking a few steps away and spinning back, finger jabbing out toward Misha. “You don’t want to believe me? You don’t want to think it’s real? Then it isn’t. All of it is just some fuckin’ mirage you created so you wouldn’t have to be alone. And you know what? I’m not playing this game anymore. I gave everything to you Misha, over and over and over again and it still wasn’t enough. You have every part of me so. Sorry. There’s nothing left.”

Misha’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed. There were tears on his cheeks that Mike could barely make out through his own tears blurring his vision. And there, just behind Misha, were Jensen and Jared. Mike could see the shock on their faces and he kind of wanted to laugh because yeah, fucking double mint twins.

Mike waited because he thought Misha would stop him. Why would he think that? The last real big blow out they had Misha hadn’t stopped him from leaving, in fact Misha had told him to go. Why should Mike even be there at all?

Huffing, annoyed and falling apart, Mike turned and paced a few more steps away. One, two, three. By the time he got to ten and the street was closer than the club, Mike stopped and turned around. Misha was still standing by the wall, Jensen and Jared beside him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He nearly screamed the words and stumbled on his heels.

The bottom of his shoe caught in the crack of the sidewalk and Mike could barely see through the tears building up. It hurt. God it hurt more than he could stand because this could really be it. Mike was so very tired of not being chased. He always believed Misha when the man told him he loved him through quotes alone. He was willing to take that step of faith but for whatever the reason the favor just couldn’t be returned.

Mike gave up on the shoe and left it there, not wanting to see Jared and Jensen comforting Misha anymore. No one was comforting him; no one was hugging him close and holding his hands. Mike felt like his heart was breaking and he was going to be all alone while he tried to deal with it.

The car came out of nowhere.

No headlights, the slight swerve that spoke of a drunken driver. Mike was paralyzed in his spot and really only registered the distant echo of a scream. All of it happened in a flash. One moment Mike was standing there and the next something hard and burning was connecting into his thigh and stars blurred under his gaze with the intense spark of pain. Asphalt slammed against his skull and then it was black.

-=-=-=-

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

Mike shifted on stiff sheets and swallowed. It hurt, which was probably not a good sign. In fact, a lot of Mike hurt, maybe all of him. That was a pretty damn unpleasant way to wake up. Blinking his eyes open, Mike stared up at the slate white ceiling and frowned.

When Mike was nine he broke his arm climbing up a tree. He was so freaked out by it all he blacked out on the ride to the hospital. That was the first time he’d woken up to the sounds of a heart monitor, this was the second. If they were giving him pain medicine it had obviously worn off. Instead he was distinctly aware of how much his body ached and how bad that all was.

Then he heard another sniffle and muttered oh god and remembered he’d also woken to the sound of Misha’s voice. Head falling to the side, Mike blinked a few times, attempting to decipher what he saw there. Misha and the J’s, all looking a little pale. Jared and Jensen’s identical lime green shirts were smeared with dark red and Mike was sure Misha’s would be too if he wasn’t still in a Batman costume.

His brain had to be a little sluggish because it took him a few minutes to realize that the blood there was his blood. Quite a lot of it, if he was guessing right. That was probably a bad thing; he thought maybe he should be a little concerned about it.

“Not dead?” He barely managed to croak but it seemed to be enough to get all their attention.

“Mike!” Jared squeaked and lurched across the room, Jensen one step behind him.

“Jesus Christ Mike why the hell did you step in front of that car?” Jensen sounded annoyed but Mike knew it was his own way of showing concern.

A small smile twitched on Mike’s lips and shifted experimentally on the bed. Pain shot up his spine and he groaned, shaking his head. “Thought it might be fun.” He laughed weakly and tried to look past Jared at Misha who was standing there, looking ashen and red eyed. “Mash,” he whispered, remembering the way his heart ached just moments before the whole, getting hit by a car.

Shit he just got hit by a car. That was insane. And yet he was still a little more caught up on the idea of things not being okay with him and Misha. Because moments before he was flying through the air and nearly dying, his heart was breaking.

“Misha.” Mike gasped and reached out, needing his boyfriend more than he’d ever needed him before.

“Michael.” Misha pushed past Jared and Jensen and nearly flung himself on Mike. Pain stung along his body but Mike didn’t care, he ignored the pain and wrapped his arms around Misha. “M’sorry. So sorry. Don’t leave me. Give me another chance.”

Jared and Jensen looked a little shocked by the words but they wisely kept their silence and stepped back, giving them both their space. “Shh don’t, of course I won’t leave. You don’t need another chance, I’ve still always been yours.” Mike gasped softly and tightened his arms around Misha.

“I love you.” Misha nearly sobbed the words into Mike’s body, half climbing onto the bed even though it didn’t help Mike’s pain in the slightest. “Marry me Michael.”

That, maybe helped his pain a little. He was pretty sure Jared gasped and Jensen choked on spit but really he was more caught up on the question. Misha blinked tears away from his eyes as he looked up, sniffing. “Oh, Misha.” Mike whispered in surprise, swallowing thickly. “You just freaked out when I asked you to move in with me. What makes you think marriage is the right option?”

Misha inhaled deeply and slid off the bed, standing. Mike’s heart pinched when he thought Misha was going to step away but he didn’t. Instead he took Mike’s hand and exhaled shakily. “I am- I’m so, madly in love with you. I want everything. I want you and life and love and everything. You just- you were walking away and I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t- I couldn’t find the words. And then just- the car. It came out of nowhere. I thought you were going to die. I thought that was it. Then everything just hit me and, and, and.”

Mike’s heart was racing so hard in his chest the machine was kind of freaking out. Not like he could really hear that over the sound of Misha talking. He squeezed Misha’s hand tightly and didn’t even need to look past Misha to Jared and Jensen behind him to know they were watching and listening in as much shock as he felt.

“It just hit me.” Misha continued after a moment’s pause for a deep breath. “Sometimes I hate that I can’t- that I don’t have the words. I want, there’s so much I want to say. And I just, I never know how. I can’t help it. I’m stuck with, with all these thoughts. And you should- you shouldn’t have to p-put up with it. I want to be with you, marry you, live with you. Please. Please Michael.”

For a few moments after the speech Mike couldn’t even get his mouth to close. He’d never heard Misha say so much at once, not as a quote and most certainly not in regular words like that. The heart machine was still moving a bit too fast and before Mike could answer a nurse was coming into the room.

“My goodness what are you boys doing in here?” The nurse frowned disapprovingly, moving over to the beside. “Mr. Rosenbaum, how are you feeling? Have your friends explained to you what happened?”

“This- can you just go away from a minute?” Mike blinked over at her and forced himself to smile. “I just need a moment. Please?”

“Uh, alright. I’ll be right back.” The nurse nodded and half stepped back, turning to leave the room as quick as she’d come.

Mike stared at the door for a few moments before his gaze shifted over to Misha. The man was panting softly, face flushed, hand still gripping Mike’s tightly and really, he felt just about as shocked as Jared and Jensen still looked. “Mash,” Mike finally managed to whisper, wetting his lips. “Do you, are you still asking me to marry you?”

Apparently Misha was unable to say any more. Mike couldn’t really blame him, that was… so much. But the man nodded slowly and smiled, stepping closer to the bed. “You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.” Misha whispered and gasped, like he was a little relieved to have a fall back like the quote.

A small laugh fell from Mike’s lips and he reached out, ignoring the pain and pulling his boyfriend in. Their lips slid together and he moaned softly. “Yes. God yes Misha.”

“Oh my god a wedding.” Jared squeaked and clapped his hands together. “That’s the absolute best thing ever. Please let me help with the planning, I swear I’m great at details.”

Mike fell back from the kiss, looking around Misha to Jared who was beaming and Jensen who was looking understandably apprehensive. He was probably thinking about how Jared might react one day if Jensen were to propose. He laughed softly then groaned, laying an arm across his middle. “Oh god, how bad is it anyway?”

“Uh, bad enough to get the nurse again.” Jensen said with a sympathetic wince and tugged Jared’s hand. “We’ll send her in on our way out. Congratulations and all, just. Yeah. And Jared? Not a word about weddings.”

“But they’re so pretty.” Jared insisted, voice fading as they got further away from the room.

Mike smiled softly up at his boyfriend - fiancé? - and wet his lips. “Did I break anything?”

“Leg. Some ribs?” Misha frowned and stroked his arm. “You’ll be okay.”

He was still in a ridiculous amount of pain but it was fairly easy to ignore in light of everything else. Maybe there were still some things he and Misha needed to discuss - and a real talk about getting married would be important when he wasn’t lying in a hospital bed - but that could really all wait. “Yeah, I’ve a feeling I’ll be more than okay.”

And it had never been more true.

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