Fic: Quiet Night In
Title: Quiet Night In
Pairing/Characters: Misha, Jared/Jensen,
Rating: Adult
Warnings: language, sexual references, slash
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me. No offence intended.
Summary: All Misha wants is a peaceful evening alone.
Notes: This is my first attempt at writing these characters. All mistakes are my own.
It’s the perfect night in alone. Misha has everything he needs right in the living space of his hotel suite so that he doesn’t have to move an inch all night. He’s bought in some of his favourite beer, ordered enough room service to feed a dozen people and rented one of the latest blockbusters to watch, lights down low enough to really appreciate it. He’s even got some porn to watch later if he’s in the mood and hasn’t passed out from exhaustion by then; it’s been a tough week. He’s just sitting back into the soft cushions of his luxury sofa, enjoying the chance to loll and spread out across the whole thing without hitting wives or lovers or any other individuals that might be invading his space this evening, when there’s a knock at the door. Fuck.
At first he tries to ignore it; if he doesn’t answer then maybe whoever it is will go away. Harsh, maybe, but Misha hasn’t had any time to himself in months and his usual Zen nature is starting to fail him. But, fuck, the bastard is persistent. They knock over and over again, leaving small gaps in between and Misha squeezes his eyes shut, as if it might help, and pretends that he can’t hear it, even as guilt grows in the pit of his stomach for disregarding something this urgent, which it must be if the rapid beating on his door is anything to go by. It goes on for a while longer before stopping and Misha’s hotel suit is once again drenched in the silence of heavenly solitude. He relaxes back into the couch, reaching for the remote and switching the TV on with a sigh. Unfortunately, while discontinuing the act of knocking, the person at the door had clearly not stopped being outside Misha’s door and the high action road chase on the Canadian news channel he switched to seems to have alerted them to his presence.
Way to be inconspicuous, he thinks to himself as he finally gives up his hopes of a quiet night alone and heaves himself off of the sofa and pads across to the door, not bothering to peek through the peephole to see who his unwanted guest is before opening it, squinting against the sudden rush of offensive electric lighting to make out the slumped form of Jensen Ackles standing in the doorway, holding a duffel bag. He stares at him for a moment, taking in the red eyes, blotchy face and slight tremble to his fingers before stepping to the side and allowing the other man to come in. Neither of them says anything at first as Misha gestures for Jensen to take a seat on the sofa while he fetches the new arrival a beer, poor guy looks like he needs it, and joins him.
They sit in companionable silence for a while, Misha watching the news with interest and Jensen, assumedly, lost in his own thoughts. Misha can’t help but observe him slyly out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t ask. He figures the other man will start talking when he wants to and he’s content enough to wait for an explanation for at least a little while before his curiosity gets the better of him and he starts to dig.
They make it through the headlines (death, war, drugs, health scare, celebrity adoption) , the local stories (poachers, elections, renters dispute, baby eagle, new policy or city centre parking) and the weather (cold) before Jensen finally opens his mouth.
“We broke up,” he says in a voice so quiet Misha has to strain his ears over the adverts to hear him. He lets out a slow breath and nods, picking up the remote to switch off the TV and plunge them into silence. He doesn’t turn to look at Jensen, guesses this conversation might be less awkward if they don’t make eye contact, Jensen’s from Texas after all and guy to guy heart to hearts are probably not his style.
“I see,” he replies and he does, it certainly explains why Jensen seems so wrecked. “Did she say why?”
Jensen turns to look at him and Misha meets his eyes after all, sees the frown on his face. “She?” he asks with honest confusion which in turn confuses Misha.
“Um. Danneel?” Misha says slowly, wondering if this break up has upset Jensen so much he’s got self-inflicted memory loss. That would be unfortunate. “Your girlfriend...”
“Oh. Oh. Her,” Jensen says with dawning comprehension which does nothing to help Misha.
“Yeah....her.”
Jensen shakes his head. “No. We didn’t break up.”
Misha cocks his head to the side in trueCastiel fashion and fixes Jensen with a serious expression. “This conversation is going to go much quicker if you explain now rather than waiting for me to attempt to unravel your vague, nonsensical answers to get to the facts.”
Jensen blushes and ducks his head and Misha is pleased to see him smile a little. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t in on the whole situation.”
Misha shrugs and waves a hand, encouraging Jensen to continue.
“I’m not really with Danneel, we’re just friends.” He pauses and licks at his lips nervously, looking down to where his fingers are twisting together anxiously in his lap. “I’m actually with Jared.” Misha resists the urge to roll his eyes, completely unsurprised; it’s not as if he hadn’t considered that before. “Well, not any-” Jensen’s voice breaks and Misha leaves his sarcastic thoughts for more sympathetic ones, puts a gentle hand on his knee as the other man sucks in a desperate breath, his control crumbling as he struggles to restrain his obvious emotions.
“Hey, hey. Shh,” Misha soothes as Jensen gives in and begins to cry, though clearly not for the first time tonight. Misha’s not sure what to do at first, how best to comfort the taller, and decidedly more masculine, man without making him uncomfortable. He settles for rubbing a hand over his shoulder, making small circular motions over the muscle there as Jensen continues to shake, harsh and broken sounds leaking from his mouth like blood from a wound. It’s more than a few minutes before Jensen’s cried himself out enough to speak again. His voice rough and raw in a way Misha’s never heard it before, not even during Dean’s most intense emotional scenes.
“It’s all my fault,” he mumbles, one hand rubbing over his swollen eyes in attempt to dry them even as tears fall continuously. “I’m so fucking stupid,” he says angrily and Misha tuts disapprovingly.
“Come on, you’re doing it again. Tell me what happened.”
Jensen nods. “He said that he thought it was time we came out. Were honest with everyone. He said that he loved me and he didn’t care what anyone thought about it, he just wanted to share it with the world. He said-” his voice cracks slightly again but he carries on, “He said that something as good and as beautiful as our love shouldn’t be hidden and suffocated by secrets and fear. That it should be set free, shared. Cherished.”
Misha snorts at the corniness of it but his smile slips off his face quickly when Jensen gives him a quelling glare.”Well, if he loves you so much, why did he break up with you?” he questions gently.
Jensen sighs and sniffs. “Because I said no. I told him that I wasn’t ready for everyone to find out. That I didn’t want our careers to suffer or for us to be hounded by the press.” He turns to Misha and his eyes are wet and full of so much pain that Misha almost flinches as he looks into them. “And he told me to get out. To leave. Because he couldn’t be with someone who was ashamed to love him. Then he threw the duffel bag at me and took the dogs out for a walk, said that I better not be there when he got back because he didn’t even want to look at me. So, I came here. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m so sorry for just dumping this all on you but I didn’t know who else to turn to. I knew you wouldn’t judge me for the whole gay thing,” he mumbles the last bit, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.
Misha chuckles. “Well, everyone knows that that would be a bit hypocritical of me.” He reaches out without thinking and runs a hand through Jensen’s hair, soothing him with soft touches.
Jensen sighs, relaxing into the touch and resting his head on Misha’s shoulder. Misha thinks that the angle must be pretty uncomfortable considering their height difference but he doesn’t say anything. Just lets Jensen’s tears seep out onto the material of his T-shirt, listens to his saddened ramblings patiently, despite the tiredness aching in his bones.
“God, how could I be so stupid? I’m a fucking coward and now I’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to me.” Jensen sits up suddenly, looking at Misha with panicked eyes. “What am I going to do? Fuck, what am I gunna do without him? He’s everything. I’m nothing without him, Misha. Just a pathetic excuse for a man. OhgodohgodohgodfuckJared.”
And then the hysterical sobbing starts up again and despite all his cool, Misha finds himself tearing up a little too; just from watching Jensen fall apart right in front of him. Nothing he does seems to help; not words, not soothing touches and eventually he finds himself resorting to the only thing he knows is sure to help, if only in the short term.
“Hey. Hey, man. Come on, Jensen. Here...have a beer.”
It’s around two hours later and Jensen, while still completely fucking depressed, has at least stopped crying and is instead rambling on and on about how amazing Jared is. Misha loves Jared, the guys great; funny, smart, real friendly and welcoming but he’s pretty sick of hearing about him from Jensen and he can’t help but thank God that Jensen’s well past the fun stage of drunk and on his way to passing out drunk any minute now.
“And you know what else, hiccup, he fuckin’ loves me. S’always doing hiccup stuff for me. Making me coffee, taking me out for dinner, writing me love notes and hiccup fing’ring me ‘till I come,” Jensen slurs. Misha’s slightly ashamed to admit that the parts of Jensen’s drunken ramblings that have dabbled in the details of his and Jared’s sex life have been a fucking turn on because, Jesus, he bets those two are hot together. “s’always lifting me up and fuckin’ me against the wall. Likes to hiccup hold me down and use me. Gets us both off like that. Makes me feel loved, way he looks at me. Like ‘m precious...” he trails off as he falls asleep and Misha sighs in relief, studiously ignoring the slight hard on he’s got as a result of that image.
He doesn’t mind Jensen coming to him with his troubles, in fact he’s pretty fucking flattered, but he’s glad to have some peace once again. He gets up, rearranges Jensen’s pliant body into a more comfortable position on the couch, removing his shoes and jeans so that he’ll rest better and allows himself a small, fairly dorky, victory dance when he manages not to wake the other man up in the process. If the fangirls could see you now, he thinks as he manages to wedge a cushion under the man’s head.
He leaves his stuff on the coffee table, next to the scattered remains of what was going to be his awesome and relaxing quiet night in. Stumbling into the bedroom with a yawn, he changes into some pyjama bottoms, leaving his old t-shirt on to wear in bed as he pulls back the covers and crawls into his bed. He falls back into it with a groan of pure pleasure that would probably sound almost orgasmic to anyone listening. He closes his eyes in bliss, feeling the warmth of the bed cocoon around him and the silence of his suite hug him like a long lost friend. He’s just starting to feel himself drift into sleep when there’s another knock on the door. Fucking hell.
He groans, pulling the pillow over his head as he stubbornly tries to ignore the banging on the main door to his suite. He’s quite happy to just wait until the other person leaves when he remembers Jensen passed out drunk on his couch and how fucking annoying it would be if the banging woke him up and he had to deal with that all over again. Resisting the urge to cry and mourn the long lost hope of a peaceful night’s sleep, he drags himself reluctantly out of the bed and storms through the living area and yanks open the front door, his eyes water from the shock of the bright hallway lighting and he squeezes them shut, doesn’t even get a look at the person at the door before gritting out a frustrated, “WHAT?”
“Um, Misha?”
It’s Jared. Misha groans but keeps his eyes closed as he ushers Jared into the room. Once the door is shut he opens them and turns to look up at Jared, who looks almost as bad as Jensen, has obviously been crying just as much, but is clearly a lot more sober than his passed out lover.
“I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Jensen. We had a bit of a disagreement and, well, I thought he might have come here,” Jared says in a shaky voice, running a trembling hand through his hair, his breathing uneven.
Misha grunts at him, leads him over to the couch where Jensen is curled up like a child, his face sad and hurt even in sleep. He leans down and shakes him awake. It takes a while, but finally Jensen is frowning at him in sleepy confusion. Misha points to Jared and green eyes widen in surprise before dropping down to look at the floor guiltily. Misha sighs in frustration.
“Look, he loves you, he came all the way here to find you. You love him, you came all the way here to cry about him and ramble about his fantastic cock.” Misha’s too pissed off and exhausted to even take delight in the mortified expression that Jensen’s, evidently much more sober, face is able to pull. “Now, make up, make love and make your way out of my fucking hotel room so I can get some peace! Okay?” They both stare at him in horror and he gives them a sinister smile before disappearing back into his bedroom and leaving them alone together.
He doesn’t shut his door all the way, leaves it open slightly so he can hear in case they start trying to kill each other and gets back into bed, unable to stop himself from listening to the quiet hum of their voices. He’s pretty sure they both start crying at one point and then there is the unmistakable sound of kissing. He wonders if they are actually going to follow his orders and have sex right next door but, sadly, he gives in to his tiredness before he gets the chance to find out.
They’re both gone when he wakes up the next morning but there’s fresh coffee and a breakfast waiting for him.
A few weeks later and he’s back on his sofa, his quiet night in material reassembled for a second attempt and he turns the TV straight onto the news (death, war, drugs, health scare, celebrity coming out of Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki) . He allows himself a small smile, a sit down version of his victory dance and a toast with his beer before he presses play on the DVD player and sits back to enjoy the solitude. And the porn.
FIN
Pairing/Characters: Misha, Jared/Jensen,
Rating: Adult
Warnings: language, sexual references, slash
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me. No offence intended.
Summary: All Misha wants is a peaceful evening alone.
Notes: This is my first attempt at writing these characters. All mistakes are my own.
It’s the perfect night in alone. Misha has everything he needs right in the living space of his hotel suite so that he doesn’t have to move an inch all night. He’s bought in some of his favourite beer, ordered enough room service to feed a dozen people and rented one of the latest blockbusters to watch, lights down low enough to really appreciate it. He’s even got some porn to watch later if he’s in the mood and hasn’t passed out from exhaustion by then; it’s been a tough week. He’s just sitting back into the soft cushions of his luxury sofa, enjoying the chance to loll and spread out across the whole thing without hitting wives or lovers or any other individuals that might be invading his space this evening, when there’s a knock at the door. Fuck.
At first he tries to ignore it; if he doesn’t answer then maybe whoever it is will go away. Harsh, maybe, but Misha hasn’t had any time to himself in months and his usual Zen nature is starting to fail him. But, fuck, the bastard is persistent. They knock over and over again, leaving small gaps in between and Misha squeezes his eyes shut, as if it might help, and pretends that he can’t hear it, even as guilt grows in the pit of his stomach for disregarding something this urgent, which it must be if the rapid beating on his door is anything to go by. It goes on for a while longer before stopping and Misha’s hotel suit is once again drenched in the silence of heavenly solitude. He relaxes back into the couch, reaching for the remote and switching the TV on with a sigh. Unfortunately, while discontinuing the act of knocking, the person at the door had clearly not stopped being outside Misha’s door and the high action road chase on the Canadian news channel he switched to seems to have alerted them to his presence.
Way to be inconspicuous, he thinks to himself as he finally gives up his hopes of a quiet night alone and heaves himself off of the sofa and pads across to the door, not bothering to peek through the peephole to see who his unwanted guest is before opening it, squinting against the sudden rush of offensive electric lighting to make out the slumped form of Jensen Ackles standing in the doorway, holding a duffel bag. He stares at him for a moment, taking in the red eyes, blotchy face and slight tremble to his fingers before stepping to the side and allowing the other man to come in. Neither of them says anything at first as Misha gestures for Jensen to take a seat on the sofa while he fetches the new arrival a beer, poor guy looks like he needs it, and joins him.
They sit in companionable silence for a while, Misha watching the news with interest and Jensen, assumedly, lost in his own thoughts. Misha can’t help but observe him slyly out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t ask. He figures the other man will start talking when he wants to and he’s content enough to wait for an explanation for at least a little while before his curiosity gets the better of him and he starts to dig.
They make it through the headlines (death, war, drugs, health scare, celebrity adoption) , the local stories (poachers, elections, renters dispute, baby eagle, new policy or city centre parking) and the weather (cold) before Jensen finally opens his mouth.
“We broke up,” he says in a voice so quiet Misha has to strain his ears over the adverts to hear him. He lets out a slow breath and nods, picking up the remote to switch off the TV and plunge them into silence. He doesn’t turn to look at Jensen, guesses this conversation might be less awkward if they don’t make eye contact, Jensen’s from Texas after all and guy to guy heart to hearts are probably not his style.
“I see,” he replies and he does, it certainly explains why Jensen seems so wrecked. “Did she say why?”
Jensen turns to look at him and Misha meets his eyes after all, sees the frown on his face. “She?” he asks with honest confusion which in turn confuses Misha.
“Um. Danneel?” Misha says slowly, wondering if this break up has upset Jensen so much he’s got self-inflicted memory loss. That would be unfortunate. “Your girlfriend...”
“Oh. Oh. Her,” Jensen says with dawning comprehension which does nothing to help Misha.
“Yeah....her.”
Jensen shakes his head. “No. We didn’t break up.”
Misha cocks his head to the side in trueCastiel fashion and fixes Jensen with a serious expression. “This conversation is going to go much quicker if you explain now rather than waiting for me to attempt to unravel your vague, nonsensical answers to get to the facts.”
Jensen blushes and ducks his head and Misha is pleased to see him smile a little. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t in on the whole situation.”
Misha shrugs and waves a hand, encouraging Jensen to continue.
“I’m not really with Danneel, we’re just friends.” He pauses and licks at his lips nervously, looking down to where his fingers are twisting together anxiously in his lap. “I’m actually with Jared.” Misha resists the urge to roll his eyes, completely unsurprised; it’s not as if he hadn’t considered that before. “Well, not any-” Jensen’s voice breaks and Misha leaves his sarcastic thoughts for more sympathetic ones, puts a gentle hand on his knee as the other man sucks in a desperate breath, his control crumbling as he struggles to restrain his obvious emotions.
“Hey, hey. Shh,” Misha soothes as Jensen gives in and begins to cry, though clearly not for the first time tonight. Misha’s not sure what to do at first, how best to comfort the taller, and decidedly more masculine, man without making him uncomfortable. He settles for rubbing a hand over his shoulder, making small circular motions over the muscle there as Jensen continues to shake, harsh and broken sounds leaking from his mouth like blood from a wound. It’s more than a few minutes before Jensen’s cried himself out enough to speak again. His voice rough and raw in a way Misha’s never heard it before, not even during Dean’s most intense emotional scenes.
“It’s all my fault,” he mumbles, one hand rubbing over his swollen eyes in attempt to dry them even as tears fall continuously. “I’m so fucking stupid,” he says angrily and Misha tuts disapprovingly.
“Come on, you’re doing it again. Tell me what happened.”
Jensen nods. “He said that he thought it was time we came out. Were honest with everyone. He said that he loved me and he didn’t care what anyone thought about it, he just wanted to share it with the world. He said-” his voice cracks slightly again but he carries on, “He said that something as good and as beautiful as our love shouldn’t be hidden and suffocated by secrets and fear. That it should be set free, shared. Cherished.”
Misha snorts at the corniness of it but his smile slips off his face quickly when Jensen gives him a quelling glare.”Well, if he loves you so much, why did he break up with you?” he questions gently.
Jensen sighs and sniffs. “Because I said no. I told him that I wasn’t ready for everyone to find out. That I didn’t want our careers to suffer or for us to be hounded by the press.” He turns to Misha and his eyes are wet and full of so much pain that Misha almost flinches as he looks into them. “And he told me to get out. To leave. Because he couldn’t be with someone who was ashamed to love him. Then he threw the duffel bag at me and took the dogs out for a walk, said that I better not be there when he got back because he didn’t even want to look at me. So, I came here. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m so sorry for just dumping this all on you but I didn’t know who else to turn to. I knew you wouldn’t judge me for the whole gay thing,” he mumbles the last bit, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.
Misha chuckles. “Well, everyone knows that that would be a bit hypocritical of me.” He reaches out without thinking and runs a hand through Jensen’s hair, soothing him with soft touches.
Jensen sighs, relaxing into the touch and resting his head on Misha’s shoulder. Misha thinks that the angle must be pretty uncomfortable considering their height difference but he doesn’t say anything. Just lets Jensen’s tears seep out onto the material of his T-shirt, listens to his saddened ramblings patiently, despite the tiredness aching in his bones.
“God, how could I be so stupid? I’m a fucking coward and now I’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to me.” Jensen sits up suddenly, looking at Misha with panicked eyes. “What am I going to do? Fuck, what am I gunna do without him? He’s everything. I’m nothing without him, Misha. Just a pathetic excuse for a man. OhgodohgodohgodfuckJared.”
And then the hysterical sobbing starts up again and despite all his cool, Misha finds himself tearing up a little too; just from watching Jensen fall apart right in front of him. Nothing he does seems to help; not words, not soothing touches and eventually he finds himself resorting to the only thing he knows is sure to help, if only in the short term.
“Hey. Hey, man. Come on, Jensen. Here...have a beer.”
It’s around two hours later and Jensen, while still completely fucking depressed, has at least stopped crying and is instead rambling on and on about how amazing Jared is. Misha loves Jared, the guys great; funny, smart, real friendly and welcoming but he’s pretty sick of hearing about him from Jensen and he can’t help but thank God that Jensen’s well past the fun stage of drunk and on his way to passing out drunk any minute now.
“And you know what else, hiccup, he fuckin’ loves me. S’always doing hiccup stuff for me. Making me coffee, taking me out for dinner, writing me love notes and hiccup fing’ring me ‘till I come,” Jensen slurs. Misha’s slightly ashamed to admit that the parts of Jensen’s drunken ramblings that have dabbled in the details of his and Jared’s sex life have been a fucking turn on because, Jesus, he bets those two are hot together. “s’always lifting me up and fuckin’ me against the wall. Likes to hiccup hold me down and use me. Gets us both off like that. Makes me feel loved, way he looks at me. Like ‘m precious...” he trails off as he falls asleep and Misha sighs in relief, studiously ignoring the slight hard on he’s got as a result of that image.
He doesn’t mind Jensen coming to him with his troubles, in fact he’s pretty fucking flattered, but he’s glad to have some peace once again. He gets up, rearranges Jensen’s pliant body into a more comfortable position on the couch, removing his shoes and jeans so that he’ll rest better and allows himself a small, fairly dorky, victory dance when he manages not to wake the other man up in the process. If the fangirls could see you now, he thinks as he manages to wedge a cushion under the man’s head.
He leaves his stuff on the coffee table, next to the scattered remains of what was going to be his awesome and relaxing quiet night in. Stumbling into the bedroom with a yawn, he changes into some pyjama bottoms, leaving his old t-shirt on to wear in bed as he pulls back the covers and crawls into his bed. He falls back into it with a groan of pure pleasure that would probably sound almost orgasmic to anyone listening. He closes his eyes in bliss, feeling the warmth of the bed cocoon around him and the silence of his suite hug him like a long lost friend. He’s just starting to feel himself drift into sleep when there’s another knock on the door. Fucking hell.
He groans, pulling the pillow over his head as he stubbornly tries to ignore the banging on the main door to his suite. He’s quite happy to just wait until the other person leaves when he remembers Jensen passed out drunk on his couch and how fucking annoying it would be if the banging woke him up and he had to deal with that all over again. Resisting the urge to cry and mourn the long lost hope of a peaceful night’s sleep, he drags himself reluctantly out of the bed and storms through the living area and yanks open the front door, his eyes water from the shock of the bright hallway lighting and he squeezes them shut, doesn’t even get a look at the person at the door before gritting out a frustrated, “WHAT?”
“Um, Misha?”
It’s Jared. Misha groans but keeps his eyes closed as he ushers Jared into the room. Once the door is shut he opens them and turns to look up at Jared, who looks almost as bad as Jensen, has obviously been crying just as much, but is clearly a lot more sober than his passed out lover.
“I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Jensen. We had a bit of a disagreement and, well, I thought he might have come here,” Jared says in a shaky voice, running a trembling hand through his hair, his breathing uneven.
Misha grunts at him, leads him over to the couch where Jensen is curled up like a child, his face sad and hurt even in sleep. He leans down and shakes him awake. It takes a while, but finally Jensen is frowning at him in sleepy confusion. Misha points to Jared and green eyes widen in surprise before dropping down to look at the floor guiltily. Misha sighs in frustration.
“Look, he loves you, he came all the way here to find you. You love him, you came all the way here to cry about him and ramble about his fantastic cock.” Misha’s too pissed off and exhausted to even take delight in the mortified expression that Jensen’s, evidently much more sober, face is able to pull. “Now, make up, make love and make your way out of my fucking hotel room so I can get some peace! Okay?” They both stare at him in horror and he gives them a sinister smile before disappearing back into his bedroom and leaving them alone together.
He doesn’t shut his door all the way, leaves it open slightly so he can hear in case they start trying to kill each other and gets back into bed, unable to stop himself from listening to the quiet hum of their voices. He’s pretty sure they both start crying at one point and then there is the unmistakable sound of kissing. He wonders if they are actually going to follow his orders and have sex right next door but, sadly, he gives in to his tiredness before he gets the chance to find out.
They’re both gone when he wakes up the next morning but there’s fresh coffee and a breakfast waiting for him.
A few weeks later and he’s back on his sofa, his quiet night in material reassembled for a second attempt and he turns the TV straight onto the news (death, war, drugs, health scare, celebrity coming out of Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki) . He allows himself a small smile, a sit down version of his victory dance and a toast with his beer before he presses play on the DVD player and sits back to enjoy the solitude. And the porn.
FIN