Thunder!verse: Before the Fall
You asked and I delivered.
Argh, I actually have a 'verse now, damn you. *runs off to study*
Fic title: Before the Fall
Pairing: J2
Characters: JDM, Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Disclaimer: This never happened.
Word count: 2,389
Warnings: Crack. Sky!pirate!Jensen and wizard!Jared.
Summary: Enter the bad guys law.
Author's Note: Jared and Jensen aren't actually in this. But it's about them.
If you have no idea what's going on, go here.
~
Lieutenant Misha Dmitri Collins, esteemed member of the Guard and leader of his very own unit, thrice decorated in combat and fawned over by subordinates and superiors alike, is currently quaking in his polished boots at the thought of knocking on his supervisor’s door. He can hear the faint buzz of the market outside and the steady taps of boots on marble from the lower floors, but up here, things are quiet even when the Guard is at its busiest. Hardly anyone goes up beyond the fourth floor, where his quarters are. He’s on floor six now, out of eight, and that in itself would be enough to explode butterflies in his stomach, but the room he is standing in front of is that of Captain Morgan of the Guard, and he has to lean against the wall and just breathe for a moment, he’s so nervous.
Focus, he tells himself, He’s only a man, just like you.
That doesn’t help at all - he’s never been good at lying to himself - and so he focuses on straightening up his uniform instead. There’s not much to fix, of course, but he pulls his frock straight anyway and shines one of the buttons with his sleeve. People think it silly how much pride he takes in his uniform, how he won’t loosen up his collar or open the cufflinks. Misha would never admit this, but he kind of likes his uniform. He likes the way the dark blue and bright yellow look together, the high collar and the broad belt. The sash, okay, the sash is stupid, how it hangs across his chest and signifies his rank, but everything else is surprisingly comfortable. Quite useful for fighting, really, loose enough to move but tight enough not to get in the way - except for that damn sash - and he would pay half a month’s wage to find out how they died the leather boots their midnight blue color.
Right. Captain Morgan of the Guard and all.
He combs his hair out of his face with his fingers - it hasn’t grown out of its regulation cut yet, has it? - and knocks timidly.
Nothing.
God, what if Captain Morgan has forgotten about him? Maybe his old injuries have finally caught up with him and he’s dying in there while Misha has his stupid freak-out in the hall and it’ll be all his fault. Or maybe he’s having a top-secret impromptu meeting with the Generals of the Guard and Misha will be thrown in the brig and tortured until he admits to being an enemy spy? What if he hasn’t heard him knock?
Taking a deep breath, Misha raps the door again.
“Yes?” a voice growls from within. Misha inches the door open and pokes his head in.
“Captain Morgan, sir?” he asks.
The room inside is surprisingly well-lit, several small windows up at the ceiling letting in dusty rays of sunshine. There are bookcases lining two walls. A small door to the right leads off to God knows where, but Misha hardly has time to contemplate if they lead to private chambers or a secret meeting hall somewhere on the seventh - or, God forbid, eight - floor because his attention is drawn to the desk opposite the door. A large desk takes up almost the entire width of the room, overshadowed by the dozens of framed awards hanging on the wall, and at it sits one of the greatest Guard heroes of Misha’s time.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” Captain Morgan says, “You’re early.”
Misha flushes a deep, dark red. He left his quarters early, yes, just in case some major problem came up as he trudged up two staircases, but he would have thought he spent all that extra time outside panicking.
“My apologies, Captain of the Guard,” he all but whispers.
Captain Morgan looks up at him, his forehead creasing in a way that almost fools Misha into thinking the man might be amused.
“Well, come in, Lieutenant,” he says, “The sooner you get in here, the sooner you can leave.”
Misha frowns (is this some polite way of saying that Captain Morgan wants him gone?) and edges into the room. He stands to attention a few feet from the desk and rakes his eyes over Captain Morgan’s face in a momentary lapse of protocol before he forces himself to stare at a tastefully decorated certificate of honor.
The Captain looks older than he does in the archive footage. There are several sketches of Captain Morgan there, one when he was just a Lieutenant himself and the rest from after his heroic deeds. Funnily enough, he also looks better now. He’s in way better shape physically than he was after he had been half shot to death, obviously, and the rough skin and whitening beard suit him better than the bright-eyed, freshly scrubbed look of the image of him as a young man.
“So, Lieutenant Collins of the Guard,” Captain Morgan says, leaning forward on his desk, and Misha blushes again, “Are you aware why you’re here?”
“Yes, sir, Captain of the Guard,” Misha answers immediately, “You are to speak to me regarding the pirate Jensen Ackles, sir.”
“That’s right,” the Captain says, “He’s becoming quite a nuisance, that one is.”
“Yes, sir,” Misha says immediately. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see the other man look at him, possibly bemused, and waggle a few fingers.
“Could you look at me, please?” he says. Misha obeys, turning red once more. Captain Morgan gives him a toothy grin.
“Much better. So. Tell me about Ackles, please. What has he done to get assigned to me, and could you at least stand at parade rest, for Christ’s sake?”
Blinking, Misha relaxes his stance, wondering if Captain Morgan is trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
“Oh, and by the way,” Captain Morgan adds, “Please don’t give me a speech about how you should have been able to catch him. If he’s good enough to get the attention of a Captain, then he’s good enough to get the attention of a Captain, and no Lieutenant would have been able to get him.”
Misha is pretty much completely disoriented now so he just starts talking about Ackles and his most recent exploits. There are a couple of raids on merchant ships, no surprise there, an attack on a sugar plantation - that one is a bit harder to explain - and then of course the kidnapped Wizard that doesn’t look so kidnapped at all when he’s running around helping Ackles and his crew pack up the goods.
“And that’s pretty much it, sir,” he concludes, “No one seems to know anything about where he stores his conquests or where he goes to unwind. Or what his routes are, for that matter.”
He offers a small smile to soften that particular message.
“God, pirates suck,” the Captain exclaims with a heartfelt sigh.
Misha can’t help his eyes from flickering down to Captain Morgan’s knee, the one that always drags a little bit. The man notices, of course.
“Oh, it’s not that,” he says airily, “Or at least mostly not. I just can’t stand it when I have to sacrifice my morning coffee for those idiots.”
He grins when Misha blinks and waves a hand at him to continue.
“Okay, enough with the facts. Tell me the gossip. I want all the juicy details.”
He grins wolfishly as he says it and Misha swallows heavily.
“Uh…”
“Come on, Lieutenant, give me something,” the Captain presses, “A secret wife. A mountain of gold hidden somewhere. Illegitimate babies.”
“Someone speculated that he might be trying to start his own sugar trade somewhere?” Misha offers uncertainly.
Captain Morgan gives him a look that clearly says, You can do better than that, so he hedges, “There are those rumors that he and the Master Wizard are…”
He trails off and allows himself to finish the thought with a weak flapping movement.
“Ah, yes, that. “ For the first time, Captain Morgan pulls a piece of parchment and a quill towards him and jots something down.
“So, this wizard kid,” he says thoughtfully, “Tell me about him.”
Misha’s mind boggles a little bit at the fact that his captain has just referred to a Master Wizard and Hawk as a ‘kid’, but maybe you earned that right once you caught several of the most wanted criminals of all time and almost died a few times and got your leg shot to hell by pirates.
“He’s fresh out of the Academy,” he recounts, “Was awarded the Hawk for services to the Academy and outstanding talent. He was apparently abducted out of a bar down by the harbor a good two years ago - though no one knows for sure what a Master Wizard would be doing in a bar down by the harbor - and seemingly vanished for several months. He reappeared some time ago and is now, for some reason, working with Pirate Ackles rather than against him.”
“Maybe he’s Shackled?” Captain Morgan suggests, but Misha, hardly believing his own daring, shakes his head.
“He doesn’t appear to be, sir.”
The Captain makes another note.
“So what’s this about him and Ackles?”
“There was an incident during the sugar raid which led people to believe that the Master Wizard and Pirate Ackles are having intimate relations,” Misha says weakly.
“And that incident was…?” the Captain prompts.
“Apparently one of the workers tried to be heroic and snuck up behind Pirate Ackles,” Misha answers, “Pirate Ackles noticed him and rendered him immobile, but before he could kill the man, the Master Wizard interfered.”
Feeling the blush rising in his cheeks, Misha stares stonily at the wall behind his commander and says, “Master Wizard Padalecki reportedly said - and I’m quoting, sir, honestly I am, I would never - reportedly said, ‘Jensen, come on - let him live, and I promise you an absolutely mind-boggling blowjob later. You know how much you love it when I do that thing with my tongue.’”
Misha ducks his head in anticipation of the impending explosion, but the only thing he gets is silence. He glances at his supervisor’s expression. He almost does a double-take when he realizes that Captain Morgan looks like he’s about to start laughing, but because that’s completely impossible, the Captain must be so angry that he’s starting to get constipated.
Oh, he’s so dead.
Deciding that damage control is the way to go, he stands to attention again and says formally, “My sincerest apologies, Captain of the Guard.”
“Hm?” Captain Morgan looks up with a bemused expression. He flaps a hand at Misha. “No, no. Didn’t I tell you, no apologies?”
Misha isn’t entirely sure he did, but it’s not his place to question his superiors.
“My apologies,” he begins again, winces and shuts his mouth.
Captain Morgan acts like he hasn’t even heard, for which Misha is grateful.
“Well, this sounds like it’s going to be interesting.” He puts down his quill. “You’ll be working with me on this, I assume?”
“Yes, sir,” Misha nods, “I’ll be your second in command and oversee the task force.”
Captain Morgan nods as well.
“Good, good. Is that all the information we have right now?”
“I can send the information we have on the other crew members up as soon as possible,” Misha offers. The Captain accepts with a nod.
“Have someone drop everything off tomorrow. For now, I have a date with my pillow.”
He rises to his feet with a groan, dragging his stiff leg under himself. Misha opens his mouth to blurt out something incredibly disrespectful and inappropriate; even though he catches himself in time, the Captain notices immediately.
“Yes? Did you have a question, Lieutenant?”
Misha has several, actually. Things like, did you know my mother has your picture on her kitchen wall? And: did you really come across a dragon hoard? And: was getting your leg busted up worth catching Fredric Lehen?
Instead he whispers, “Is it true you never let a pirate get away?”
Captain Morgan seems to go a little soft. He gropes for his cane and takes some pressure off his leg - couldn’t you have waited ten extra seconds? Stupid, Misha berates himself - and gives him a vaguely disbelieving smile.
“Is that what they’re saying nowadays?”
Misha nods, his mouth dry. Captain Morgan shakes his head.
“Son, I’ve let more pirates get away over the years than I care to count. But I’m going to let you in on a secret, okay?”
He leans a little closer.
“You have to know, there are two kinds of pirates: The first are those who do it to survive, because they know how to do it and it’s what they do best. They’re the ones who let people live, who take provisions from the ships they’re raiding instead of the crew’s personal items, who have families and lives somewhere. They usually also get caught faster.”
Then, the Captain’s face twists into a mask of cold fury that almost makes the bottom of Misha’s stomach drop out. God, he would never want to get on Captain Morgan’s bad side when he looks like that.
“And then there are the ones who do it because it’s fun. They become pirates to torture, to kill and plunder and to see other people suffer, and they can never get away. Do you understand me? When you get one of those, you have to devote your entire life to catching them. No family, no friends, no girls - getting your hands on them has to become your life. They can not be allowed to walk away.”
Misha nods shakily. The Captain’s face softens slowly and he sighs, shifting on his cane.
“So, Lieutenant of the Guard, it’s time for this old Captain to take a nap. I’m expecting your additional information sometime tomorrow, and then you and I will figure out a battle plan. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes, sir, Captain of the Guard,” Misha replies snappily.
Morgan nods and waves a hand at him.
“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Misha gives a short, formal bow. The Captain turns away and heads for his small side door, leaving Misha alone in the office. He stares at the award-covered wall for a moment before he leaves, closes the door quietly behind him and just stands in the hallway, feeling dazed.
~
Feedback is adored. :D
Argh, I actually have a 'verse now, damn you. *runs off to study*
Fic title: Before the Fall
Pairing: J2
Characters: JDM, Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Disclaimer: This never happened.
Word count: 2,389
Warnings: Crack. Sky!pirate!Jensen and wizard!Jared.
Summary: Enter the bad guys law.
Author's Note: Jared and Jensen aren't actually in this. But it's about them.
If you have no idea what's going on, go here.
~
Lieutenant Misha Dmitri Collins, esteemed member of the Guard and leader of his very own unit, thrice decorated in combat and fawned over by subordinates and superiors alike, is currently quaking in his polished boots at the thought of knocking on his supervisor’s door. He can hear the faint buzz of the market outside and the steady taps of boots on marble from the lower floors, but up here, things are quiet even when the Guard is at its busiest. Hardly anyone goes up beyond the fourth floor, where his quarters are. He’s on floor six now, out of eight, and that in itself would be enough to explode butterflies in his stomach, but the room he is standing in front of is that of Captain Morgan of the Guard, and he has to lean against the wall and just breathe for a moment, he’s so nervous.
Focus, he tells himself, He’s only a man, just like you.
That doesn’t help at all - he’s never been good at lying to himself - and so he focuses on straightening up his uniform instead. There’s not much to fix, of course, but he pulls his frock straight anyway and shines one of the buttons with his sleeve. People think it silly how much pride he takes in his uniform, how he won’t loosen up his collar or open the cufflinks. Misha would never admit this, but he kind of likes his uniform. He likes the way the dark blue and bright yellow look together, the high collar and the broad belt. The sash, okay, the sash is stupid, how it hangs across his chest and signifies his rank, but everything else is surprisingly comfortable. Quite useful for fighting, really, loose enough to move but tight enough not to get in the way - except for that damn sash - and he would pay half a month’s wage to find out how they died the leather boots their midnight blue color.
Right. Captain Morgan of the Guard and all.
He combs his hair out of his face with his fingers - it hasn’t grown out of its regulation cut yet, has it? - and knocks timidly.
Nothing.
God, what if Captain Morgan has forgotten about him? Maybe his old injuries have finally caught up with him and he’s dying in there while Misha has his stupid freak-out in the hall and it’ll be all his fault. Or maybe he’s having a top-secret impromptu meeting with the Generals of the Guard and Misha will be thrown in the brig and tortured until he admits to being an enemy spy? What if he hasn’t heard him knock?
Taking a deep breath, Misha raps the door again.
“Yes?” a voice growls from within. Misha inches the door open and pokes his head in.
“Captain Morgan, sir?” he asks.
The room inside is surprisingly well-lit, several small windows up at the ceiling letting in dusty rays of sunshine. There are bookcases lining two walls. A small door to the right leads off to God knows where, but Misha hardly has time to contemplate if they lead to private chambers or a secret meeting hall somewhere on the seventh - or, God forbid, eight - floor because his attention is drawn to the desk opposite the door. A large desk takes up almost the entire width of the room, overshadowed by the dozens of framed awards hanging on the wall, and at it sits one of the greatest Guard heroes of Misha’s time.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” Captain Morgan says, “You’re early.”
Misha flushes a deep, dark red. He left his quarters early, yes, just in case some major problem came up as he trudged up two staircases, but he would have thought he spent all that extra time outside panicking.
“My apologies, Captain of the Guard,” he all but whispers.
Captain Morgan looks up at him, his forehead creasing in a way that almost fools Misha into thinking the man might be amused.
“Well, come in, Lieutenant,” he says, “The sooner you get in here, the sooner you can leave.”
Misha frowns (is this some polite way of saying that Captain Morgan wants him gone?) and edges into the room. He stands to attention a few feet from the desk and rakes his eyes over Captain Morgan’s face in a momentary lapse of protocol before he forces himself to stare at a tastefully decorated certificate of honor.
The Captain looks older than he does in the archive footage. There are several sketches of Captain Morgan there, one when he was just a Lieutenant himself and the rest from after his heroic deeds. Funnily enough, he also looks better now. He’s in way better shape physically than he was after he had been half shot to death, obviously, and the rough skin and whitening beard suit him better than the bright-eyed, freshly scrubbed look of the image of him as a young man.
“So, Lieutenant Collins of the Guard,” Captain Morgan says, leaning forward on his desk, and Misha blushes again, “Are you aware why you’re here?”
“Yes, sir, Captain of the Guard,” Misha answers immediately, “You are to speak to me regarding the pirate Jensen Ackles, sir.”
“That’s right,” the Captain says, “He’s becoming quite a nuisance, that one is.”
“Yes, sir,” Misha says immediately. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see the other man look at him, possibly bemused, and waggle a few fingers.
“Could you look at me, please?” he says. Misha obeys, turning red once more. Captain Morgan gives him a toothy grin.
“Much better. So. Tell me about Ackles, please. What has he done to get assigned to me, and could you at least stand at parade rest, for Christ’s sake?”
Blinking, Misha relaxes his stance, wondering if Captain Morgan is trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
“Oh, and by the way,” Captain Morgan adds, “Please don’t give me a speech about how you should have been able to catch him. If he’s good enough to get the attention of a Captain, then he’s good enough to get the attention of a Captain, and no Lieutenant would have been able to get him.”
Misha is pretty much completely disoriented now so he just starts talking about Ackles and his most recent exploits. There are a couple of raids on merchant ships, no surprise there, an attack on a sugar plantation - that one is a bit harder to explain - and then of course the kidnapped Wizard that doesn’t look so kidnapped at all when he’s running around helping Ackles and his crew pack up the goods.
“And that’s pretty much it, sir,” he concludes, “No one seems to know anything about where he stores his conquests or where he goes to unwind. Or what his routes are, for that matter.”
He offers a small smile to soften that particular message.
“God, pirates suck,” the Captain exclaims with a heartfelt sigh.
Misha can’t help his eyes from flickering down to Captain Morgan’s knee, the one that always drags a little bit. The man notices, of course.
“Oh, it’s not that,” he says airily, “Or at least mostly not. I just can’t stand it when I have to sacrifice my morning coffee for those idiots.”
He grins when Misha blinks and waves a hand at him to continue.
“Okay, enough with the facts. Tell me the gossip. I want all the juicy details.”
He grins wolfishly as he says it and Misha swallows heavily.
“Uh…”
“Come on, Lieutenant, give me something,” the Captain presses, “A secret wife. A mountain of gold hidden somewhere. Illegitimate babies.”
“Someone speculated that he might be trying to start his own sugar trade somewhere?” Misha offers uncertainly.
Captain Morgan gives him a look that clearly says, You can do better than that, so he hedges, “There are those rumors that he and the Master Wizard are…”
He trails off and allows himself to finish the thought with a weak flapping movement.
“Ah, yes, that. “ For the first time, Captain Morgan pulls a piece of parchment and a quill towards him and jots something down.
“So, this wizard kid,” he says thoughtfully, “Tell me about him.”
Misha’s mind boggles a little bit at the fact that his captain has just referred to a Master Wizard and Hawk as a ‘kid’, but maybe you earned that right once you caught several of the most wanted criminals of all time and almost died a few times and got your leg shot to hell by pirates.
“He’s fresh out of the Academy,” he recounts, “Was awarded the Hawk for services to the Academy and outstanding talent. He was apparently abducted out of a bar down by the harbor a good two years ago - though no one knows for sure what a Master Wizard would be doing in a bar down by the harbor - and seemingly vanished for several months. He reappeared some time ago and is now, for some reason, working with Pirate Ackles rather than against him.”
“Maybe he’s Shackled?” Captain Morgan suggests, but Misha, hardly believing his own daring, shakes his head.
“He doesn’t appear to be, sir.”
The Captain makes another note.
“So what’s this about him and Ackles?”
“There was an incident during the sugar raid which led people to believe that the Master Wizard and Pirate Ackles are having intimate relations,” Misha says weakly.
“And that incident was…?” the Captain prompts.
“Apparently one of the workers tried to be heroic and snuck up behind Pirate Ackles,” Misha answers, “Pirate Ackles noticed him and rendered him immobile, but before he could kill the man, the Master Wizard interfered.”
Feeling the blush rising in his cheeks, Misha stares stonily at the wall behind his commander and says, “Master Wizard Padalecki reportedly said - and I’m quoting, sir, honestly I am, I would never - reportedly said, ‘Jensen, come on - let him live, and I promise you an absolutely mind-boggling blowjob later. You know how much you love it when I do that thing with my tongue.’”
Misha ducks his head in anticipation of the impending explosion, but the only thing he gets is silence. He glances at his supervisor’s expression. He almost does a double-take when he realizes that Captain Morgan looks like he’s about to start laughing, but because that’s completely impossible, the Captain must be so angry that he’s starting to get constipated.
Oh, he’s so dead.
Deciding that damage control is the way to go, he stands to attention again and says formally, “My sincerest apologies, Captain of the Guard.”
“Hm?” Captain Morgan looks up with a bemused expression. He flaps a hand at Misha. “No, no. Didn’t I tell you, no apologies?”
Misha isn’t entirely sure he did, but it’s not his place to question his superiors.
“My apologies,” he begins again, winces and shuts his mouth.
Captain Morgan acts like he hasn’t even heard, for which Misha is grateful.
“Well, this sounds like it’s going to be interesting.” He puts down his quill. “You’ll be working with me on this, I assume?”
“Yes, sir,” Misha nods, “I’ll be your second in command and oversee the task force.”
Captain Morgan nods as well.
“Good, good. Is that all the information we have right now?”
“I can send the information we have on the other crew members up as soon as possible,” Misha offers. The Captain accepts with a nod.
“Have someone drop everything off tomorrow. For now, I have a date with my pillow.”
He rises to his feet with a groan, dragging his stiff leg under himself. Misha opens his mouth to blurt out something incredibly disrespectful and inappropriate; even though he catches himself in time, the Captain notices immediately.
“Yes? Did you have a question, Lieutenant?”
Misha has several, actually. Things like, did you know my mother has your picture on her kitchen wall? And: did you really come across a dragon hoard? And: was getting your leg busted up worth catching Fredric Lehen?
Instead he whispers, “Is it true you never let a pirate get away?”
Captain Morgan seems to go a little soft. He gropes for his cane and takes some pressure off his leg - couldn’t you have waited ten extra seconds? Stupid, Misha berates himself - and gives him a vaguely disbelieving smile.
“Is that what they’re saying nowadays?”
Misha nods, his mouth dry. Captain Morgan shakes his head.
“Son, I’ve let more pirates get away over the years than I care to count. But I’m going to let you in on a secret, okay?”
He leans a little closer.
“You have to know, there are two kinds of pirates: The first are those who do it to survive, because they know how to do it and it’s what they do best. They’re the ones who let people live, who take provisions from the ships they’re raiding instead of the crew’s personal items, who have families and lives somewhere. They usually also get caught faster.”
Then, the Captain’s face twists into a mask of cold fury that almost makes the bottom of Misha’s stomach drop out. God, he would never want to get on Captain Morgan’s bad side when he looks like that.
“And then there are the ones who do it because it’s fun. They become pirates to torture, to kill and plunder and to see other people suffer, and they can never get away. Do you understand me? When you get one of those, you have to devote your entire life to catching them. No family, no friends, no girls - getting your hands on them has to become your life. They can not be allowed to walk away.”
Misha nods shakily. The Captain’s face softens slowly and he sighs, shifting on his cane.
“So, Lieutenant of the Guard, it’s time for this old Captain to take a nap. I’m expecting your additional information sometime tomorrow, and then you and I will figure out a battle plan. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes, sir, Captain of the Guard,” Misha replies snappily.
Morgan nods and waves a hand at him.
“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Misha gives a short, formal bow. The Captain turns away and heads for his small side door, leaving Misha alone in the office. He stares at the award-covered wall for a moment before he leaves, closes the door quietly behind him and just stands in the hallway, feeling dazed.
~
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