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Jensen is tired. Really tired. He shot for almost twelve hours with barely any break and demon Dean really takes a lot out of him, emotionally. He just wants to shower, eat and sleep, preferably in that order. He thinks his hair is probably a mess, from how often someone applied gel to it today, and the sweat clogs with it. Every time he combs a hand through his hair these days, it comes back sticky and white. It’s disgusting. Jensen fumbles for his keys before he realizes that his trailer door isn’t even locked. After that, it’s not really a surprise when he finds Misha sitting on the floor with his laptop. He does that, sometimes – randomly letting himself in, using Jensen’s shower or kitchen because his own trailer is ridiculously small, sometimes even sleeping on his couch.
“How the hell did you figure out my password?”
Misha looks up from the screen and grins. “You look like shit. I made you a sandwich, it’s on the counter.”
Jensen grumbles a bit more, but is really just grateful that he doesn’t have to worry about food. He marvels at the fact that it’s his favorite kind, too – turkey with pickles – and let’s himself fall down next to Misha, who looks infinitely more alert and, well, better, than he probably does. “What you doing?”
“Reading.”
Misha smirks a bit, tongue in his cheek, but doesn’t lift his gaze from the screen again.
“Reading what?”
“Fanfiction.”
Jensen groans around a mouthful of sandwich before swallowing. “You’re kidding.”
Misha’s smirk gets wider. “For a brief moment, Jensen has the insane thought that Misha is going to kiss him.” Misha pauses to smile wickedly at Jensen from behind lowered lashes. Jensen tries to not lose hold of his sandwich, staring. “He feels Misha’s breath, moist and warm as it puffs past his ear, can almost feel the softness of Misha’s lips where they hover close to his cheek. More insane is the part where Jensen finds himself leaning in.” Misha finishes with a leer.
“Misha, what the hell?” Jensen knows he sounds freaked out, his voice pitching way higher than usual, but fuck, fanfiction about them?
Misha shrugs, looking as if it wasn’t even a bit strange. “It’s surprisingly good. You should take a look at it. They have you down to a T.”
“You’re insane. And the internet is a sick place to be. Especially for you. Give me that.”
Jensen wrestles the laptop from Misha, wondering again how he knew the password. Misha laughs the whole way out of the door.
___
The thing is – now that he got the idea, Jensen is kind of curious. How would a fan write him and Misha together, unlikely pair that they are? It’s nagging at him in the shower and later in bed, and it’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning.
It’s distracting and intriguing, so after getting up at the ass-crack of dawn Jensen sits down with a cup of steaming coffee in his hands and opens his laptop. He didn’t shut it down yesterday, so the site is still open. Jensen finds the paragraph Misha had been looking at and starts to read with a vague sense of foreboding.
___
When Jensen shuts the lid of the laptop, it’s almost an hour later. He’s confused. Confused and aroused, just like the Jensen in the fanfic. Which is not good. He also needs to be with make-up in five minutes, apparently. Jensen hurries out of his trailer, his mind full of pictures he’s not sure he wants there.
___
‘I’m not gay’, Jensen reminds himself while Kylie applies ridiculous amounts of paste to his skin. ‘It’s just the way it was written that was so arousing. A hole is a hole, after all.’ Except that thought seems downright insulting to Misha, who certainly isn’t “just a hole”. Misha is one of his two best friends, except that their friendship is completely different from what he and Jared have. Misha is excitement where Jared is comfort, danger instead of shelter, unpredictable and sometimes so strange that Jensen can’t keep up. Jared, he knows completely, intricately. He’s got only a vague idea of what Misha is made of, and isn’t that a curious thing to say about one’s best friend?
These musings follow Jensen through the day. The way Misha’s lips draw past his teeth when he grins pops up more than once, and Jensen can’t seem to forget about how he tugs his tongue in his cheek sometimes, either. For the first time in ages, Jensen doubts the truths he thought he knew about himself.
___
Two days later, Jensen comes home to an almost naked Misha prancing in his kitchen. There’s only a tiny towel wrapped around his hips, and his hair is still wet. When Misha hears Jensen approach, he turns his head, neck long and glistening. “Jensen, there you are. Dinner is almost ready.”
For a moment, there must be a serious lack of blood flow in his brain, for Jensen can’t remember stepping this close to Misha, or leaning down to lick at the skin of his throat.
“Jen, what…oh.”
Misha doesn’t struggle or push him away, but he doesn’t really encourage Jensen either, so he finally brings his feet to take a step back. Misha is staring at him with wide eyes, mouth slack, stirring rod still in hand.
“You really should put some clothes on”, is what finally leaves Jensen’s mouth before he flees into the bathroom.
___
When he returns, apology already on the tip of his tongue, Misha still has no clothes on, but there are steaming bowls of something delicious smelling on the table. Misha pretends that nothing has happened, like Jensen hoped he would. They eat in silence. Misha throws him undecipherable looks throughout the meal, but says nothing until they are full and the dishes are put away in the washer.
“So. Wanna talk?”
Jensen sits down hard on the couch, feeling tired and strangely detached. “Not really.”
Misha walks around until he’s standing right in front of Jensen, strong thighs in his direct line of view. He wants to touch them, Jensen realizes with a pang. He scrambles for the apology he had constructed under the shower, but the words won’t quite come.
“I’m…sorry. I don’t know what …Misha, what are you doing?” Misha is currently lowering himself into his lap, towel looking precariously lose. Jensen doesn’t know where to put his hands until Misha is fully seated and he has no choice but to grab him at the hips so he doesn’t fall off.
“Was it the fanfic?” Misha rumbles, draping his arms around Jensen’s neck and leaning in until his face is buried in the crook of Jensen’s neck.
There’s bare skin everywhere, and where his hands hold Misha’s hips the towel is already so askew that if he let go right now, it would come off for sure. Jensen swallows convulsively. He’s incredibly turned on and not sure if he’s allowed to.
“I…yes, I …it was rather intriguing.”
Misha laughs softly against his ear, slowly rolling his hips forward until Jensen’s fingers graze soft skin where the towel ends. “Knew you’d like it. Did you jerk off afterwards?”
“N…no” Jensen stutters, clutching at the meaty part just above Misha’s buttocks, afraid that he’ll dive lower if he lets go.
“Did you want to?” Misha starts nibbling lightly under his left ear, still slowly moving against him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel Jensen’s aching erection, even though it’s trapped in his jeans. Not that Misha’s hardness isn’t quite obvious, either. It’s still covered by the towel, though. Jensen hasn’t looked, of course. He just assumes.
“May…maybe”, he gets out, turned on so much that it’s difficult to even grasp a fleeting thought. “Mish, please…”
Misha pulls back a little at that, sitting straight up in Jensen’s lap. He looks down at him, eyes wide and dark, lips slick with saliva. Jensen feels a surge of want so strong that he almost pushes up against Misha’s crotch.
“Whatever you want, you can take it, Jen” Misha says, his tone almost tender. “I assure you I’m one-hundred percent on board with it.” There’s something sad in the words, but Jensen can’t quite figure out the sentiment. Blood is already rushing through his ears, the desire to claim stronger by the second.
He stares up at Misha, hands slowly crawling backwards until he feels the generous curve of buttocks, smooth except for tiny, soft hair. Misha closes his eyes, mouth opening as his tongue comes out to wet his lips. Jensen hasn’t realized before that this seems to be something Misha actually wants, maybe as much as Jensen does.
With every harsh intake of breath from Misha, Jensen dips a bit lower until his right middle finger hits its target. Misha’s hole is slick with what must be lube. Jensen is so surprised he pulls back a little. “You planned this!”
Misha grins down at him, still something like pain in the corner of his eyes, but Jensen is too gone to really notice. “Yes. Problem?”
Hell no, not a problem at all. Jensen finally grabs Misha’s ass, pulling aside one ass cheek until his hole is exposed to the air, making Misha’s breath hitch. “You wanted this all along, you little slut.”
He wonders for a moment where the words come from, what he even thinks he is doing here, but when one of his fingers gets swallowed by the incredible heat that is Misha, he loses the thought again.
Misha moans, tipping his head down, eyes almost closed. Jensen can only see a sliver of blue when he mumbles “Want this, Jen.”
There are no more words for a while, only slick sounds and Misha’s soft exclamations of ecstasy whenever Jensen’s fingers hit his prostate.
After what feels like forever, Misha finally gets up, legs barely supporting his weight. “Clothes”, he rasps, and Jensen hurries to shuck his jeans and underwear. The towel lies forgotten on the floor, and Jensen greedily stares at Misha’s cock the whole time, wondering why he never questioned his sexuality before because Misha standing three inches away naked is maybe the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed.
Misha pushes him back on the sofa as soon as Jensen’s cock has sprung free, positioning himself on top of him. His hands claw into the meat of Jensen’s shoulders while he slowly sinks down. The feeling is absolutely overwhelming. Jensen can do nothing but lean back and enjoy the view of Misha’s whole body pulled tight and thrumming above him, trying desperately to hold still because he’s pretty sure that he would hurt Misha if he’d push up too soon.
When Misha is fully sheathed, panting and staring at him with hunger plain on his face, Jensen doesn’t really think before he leans in to kiss him. To his surprise, Misha moves his head back, exposing instead the glistening skin of his throat. They both moan with the change of angle when Jensen starts to kiss him there instead, rocking slowly upwards with the movement. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows what just happened – that there is a line after all, something Misha isn’t willing to give him. But everything feels too good right now, too intense to really make him stop and think. Misha starts to meet his every push, and soon they’re fucking in earnest. Misha is loud like Jensen thought he would be (yeah, so maybe he has had some fantasies. That’s normal, right?), and Jensen doesn’t hold back like he usually would, filthy words leaving his mouth whenever Misha gets him close to the edge.
“Fuck, Mish, so good, knew you’d be like this, come on, talk to me.” There’s an incredible burn building in his groin, a feeling he hasn’t had for so long he almost forgot how good it could be. Misha doesn’t say anything at first, but when Jensen wraps his hand around his dick and moves his other one back where they are joined, Misha’s mouth finally falls open. “Jen, please, Jen, harder, make me come on your cock, I need…Please, I need…” It’s said with the voice of someone starving, and if Jensen had been a perceptive man, he would have noticed the despair in it, but he just hears sex and want and now. He pushes a single finger alongside his cock into Misha, making him keen and go wild above him, his nails sinking into Jensen’s skin until they draw blood. Then Misha is suddenly coming, clenching hard around Jensen, splattering come over his hand and belly. Jensen watches, fascinated, overwhelmed, and feels his own orgasm approach rapidly. He fucks upwards without holding back this time, once, twice, and comes with a shout that might be Misha’s name or might just be gibberish. It feels endless, the occasional clench of Misha around him drawing it out and milking him until Jensen feels ready to pass out.
Misha falls towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck again and resting his forehead against Jensen’s shoulder. It’s almost like he doesn’t want Jensen to see his face right now, so Jensen slowly moves his head until his nose nudges Misha’s cheek. “Hey”, he says, groggily. “You okay?”
Instead of replying, Misha buries his head in Jensen’s neck, effectively evading his gaze. There’s a sniffling sound that immediately lets alarm bells go off in Jensen’s head. Did he hurt Misha somehow?
“Mish? Mish, please, did I hurt you?” One of his hands started to card through Misha’s hair without his permission, but it seems to calm him down at least, and there’s something like a headshake.
Nevertheless, Jensen strokes back down to where they are still joined; wanting to see if there’s blood. Misha moans softly when he touches him there, moving up until Jensen’s soft cock falls against his thigh. There’s no blood, thankfully, but Jensen notices something else. Come is dribbling out of Misha. They haven’t used protection.
How in seven hells did they forget about a condom?
“Shit. Misha. We didn’t…”
“I know”, Misha mumbles, and Jensen is so glad to hear his voice that he forgets for two seconds that he just had unprotected gay sex.
“I’m clean. You can get a test next week.”
“I…uh, right. Yeah.”
Misha finally sits up, eyes avoiding Jensen. He attempts to get up from the couch, but Jensen catches one of his wrists. “Why won’t you look at me?”
Misha flinches. Jensen realizes that right now, all of his defenses are down. This is Misha, the real one, without any masks, raw and honest. And what Jensen sees makes him want to cry.
He gets up too, embracing Misha for lack of a plan, slowly stroking his back. Misha relaxes after a while and sighs, then rasps: “I could really use a shower. Again.”
“Yeah, me too.” Jensen remembers how Misha drew back from his attempt of a kiss earlier, but decides to try again nevertheless. He tips Misha’s face until he can look at him, noting that his eyes have a watery shine to them, not understanding but not able to bear it either. This time, Misha doesn’t draw back, remaining passive and pliant under Jensen’s lips instead. But Jensen doesn’t give up, nipping and coaxing him with his tongue until with a last, drowned sigh, Misha starts to kiss him back.
It’s tender, unhurried like Jensen never thought it could be with Misha, almost loving. That’s when it finally clicks.
“Tell me”, Jensen whispers against open lips.
Misha starts to tremble against him, his voice unsteady, wrecked. “I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
Jensen nods, drawing back. He cups Misha’s face, his beautiful, beloved face, in his hands, making sure that they have eye contact before he says: “I’d like to try. When you’re ready.”
He feels calmness wash over him, path suddenly clear before him. He wouldn’t sleep with Misha again until they weren’t sure about… well, feelings. Except that Jensen is very sure already. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it doesn’t matter, either. It’s Misha’s turn now.
“Thank you. I need to…I need to talk to Vicky.” Misha swallows, gradually pulling back more and more. “We could… dinner, maybe?” Parts of the old mask are already up again, Misha’s eyes becoming shuttered, unreadable. “In two weeks?”
Jensen breathes out his relief, not bothering to hide it. “Yes. Okay. Great. I’m gonna sort my own stuff out until then. I…” Jensen thinks about mentioning Danneel, but decides against it, leaning in for another, quick kiss. “Go shower first.”
Misha smiles at him, a genuine, crooked thing, then leans down to retrieve his towel. “This was the hottest sex I ever had”, he mentions, almost casually, his back to Jensen already.
Jensen smirks. “Likewise. Now go.”
The End