Fic: The Rules Of Rosenbaum's (Or What Happens Here, Stays Here) - NC-17, AU, PWP, Mike/Misha
This one is for aythia - because she is Awesome and Fun and Made of Win! And she had a birthday a couple weeks ago - which I hope was also made of win!
I hate figuring out categories and it's been awhile since I had to have warnings (or kinks) so if you notice anything I forgot, please to let me know. I intended this to be a PWP, but it seems to have stretched out just a tiny bit into the area of having substance - just a little. So I threw a romance tag in there too.
NC-17, AU, PWP, Romance, Michael Rosenbaum/Misha Collins with some J2, Aldis, Christian & Steve. When Misha tags along to a party at Jensen’s boss’ house, things get a little out of hand. Or in hand, whichever. 4,828 words.
Warnings/Kinks - Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Drunkenness (look at all the new kink tags!)
Title: The Rules Of Rosenbaum’s (Or What Happens Here, Stays Here)
Author: The Artful Dodger / dodger_sister
Fandom: CW RPS
Category: AU, PWP, Romance
Characters/Pairing: Mike/Misha, Jared/Jensen, Christian, Steve & Aldis
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Drunkenness
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: When Misha tags along to a party at Jensen’s boss’ house, things get a little out of hand. Or in hand, whichever.
Word Count: 4,828 words.
Date Written: August, 2010
Disclaimer: These people are not mine. Boo. They didn’t do these things. Boo. I wrote this story. Yay. It makes me no money. Boo.
Feedback: Bring it. dodger_sister / TheArtofDodger@comcast.net
Beta’d: Nope.
Author's Notes: This took longer to write than porn should. I figured I would get Misha’s pants off within 1,000 words, at most. That did not happen. However, the outcome was that this story ended up with a little more substance than originally intended. I threw in enough story and characterizations, that if I so desired, I could write a sequel. Or some companion pieces about what everyone else did at the party - because wow did the J2 in this sneak up on me. I won’t, but I could. I guess maybe it’s a sign of my maturity that I can’t write a simple PWP anymore without throwing something else in there with it. But then someone says the word “balls” and I giggle like a ten year old - so maybe not so much with the maturity. Even so, with the addition of a little storyline here, it is still the kinkiest thing I have written in a long time. I even went back in and made it a little filthier, so not completely unable to write the porn.
Dedication: For aythia. It’s a little past your birthday, babe, but I hope you like this belated gift. Because you are awesome and deserve all the porn in the world! I can’t give you all the porn in the world, but here, have some M2. Love and kisses!!
"But why do I have to go?" Misha whined and threw himself backwards onto the couch in the most mellow-dramatic way he could.
“Because it’s your job as my roommate to accompany me to boring office parties,” Jensen told him plainly.
“The word roommate implies that I pay rent. I am really just a guy crashing in the extra bed in your spare ’oom,” Misha said, but he knew it was no use. Jensen hated office parties and he wouldn’t quit needling Misha until he agreed to go.
“Did you just say spare ’oom?” Jensen asked.
Misha shrugged, because no one appreciated his sense of humor.
Jensen batted those long pretty eyelashes at him, which was totally unfair, and threw in a “Please?”
Misha was walking towards his bedroom, more aptly called Jensen’s study, when his friend called out, “There’s an open bar!”
Misha wondered if he would have to wear a tie.
***
Mr. Rosenbaum lived in a freaking palace. It had a wrought iron gate and a long winding drive and he had hired valet parkers for the evening. Misha, being a starving-artist and out-of-work part-time construction guy, wasn’t above casing the place for valuables. The main room alone was huge, with chandeliers and nearly-wall-sized windows.
Also, as promised, an open bar.
Jensen got a beer, because his friend had never known how to take advantage of other people’s wealth and settled into a corner to stare longingly at his office-crush, who much to the dismay of pretty much everyone in the room, had come to the party with a stunning brunette girl with a decent rack and hips to match.
Misha got a martini from the bartender and then settled in next to Jensen, who for once didn’t want to drone on about how Jared would never notice him in that way.
“Everyone here is from the office,” Jensen hissed under his breath. “Someone might hear you.”
“Sweetheart,” Misha said kindly, “there is no way in hell that all of these people don’t already know. You are not subtle.”
Jensen just scowled and downed his beer.
Misha enjoyed the scenery for awhile. Most of the people from the office were under-dressed for a party in such a fancy place, but one girl was wearing a very nice wrap dress that accented her in all the right places. Unfortunately for Misha’s desire to get laid, she was already sucking face with a kid with spiky blonde hair and Christian from the mailroom - a guy Jensen had brought home drunk off his ass on more than a few Friday nights. Misha still was unsure if Jensen and Christian had ever slept together, but they certainly weren’t going home together tonight.
There was another dude; tall, dark hair, gorgeous in that male model sort of way, who was trying his hardest to get his hand up the skirt of some little blonde woman who was completely oblivious and attempting to show him something on her Iphone.
So, basically, Mr. Rosenbaum just threw these office parties so everyone could blow off some steam through the act of intercourse.
Good to know.
“He gives you crappy health-care packages, but he makes sure you all get laid at least once a year?” Misha asked Jensen, just to stop his friend from brooding for any longer.
“What? Who?”
“Evil Boss.”
Oh,” Jensen said and shrugged. “Well, I’m not getting laid tonight, so I guess no.”
“You could be getting laid tonight,” Misha told him, because it’s not like Jensen hadn’t turned a half a dozen heads since they got there. Hell, the valet kid probably wouldn’t have said no, if Jensen had offered.
“Are you implying you want to go home with me tonight?” Jensen asked with a smirk.
“Yes.”
“Wait…what?” and Jensen’s wide shocked eyes were too adorable for Misha not to smile.
“Because I live with you,” he said and ducked out of the way before Jensen could smack the back of his head.
“You suck.”
Misha grinned. “Actually, you suck. I don’t swing that way.”
Jensen was making another attempt to smack Misha again, when someone said, “Hey, Jensen. Uh, hi.”
Misha was unsure how this giant of a man had crept up on them but there he was, all 6’4” of Jared Padalecki, long shaggy hair flopping over one eye and his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
“Uh,” Jensen said articulately.
“Hi,” Misha said brightly and stood up. “I’m Misha,” he added and offered Jared his hand.
“Uh, yeah, we’ve met,” Jared told him, because it’s not like Misha never showed up at the office to beg Jensen to buy him lunch. Starving artist wasn’t just a phrase people used for fun.
“I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” Misha said, only very slightly embarrassed.
“Uh, yeah, Jensen talks about you all the time,” Jared answered and Misha was absolutely not imagining the scowl that came with that statement.
He smiled evilly. “Well, Jensen loves me a lot.” Really, Misha wasn’t the least bit surprised to feel Jensen pinch his side.
He waited a full five seconds of awkward silence before adding, “Because we’ve been friends since forever and I live in the spare ’oom.”
Jared’s shoulders visible relaxed at that and then he smiled. “Spare ’oom. I would totally date Mr. Tumnus. Is that weird? Why did I just tell you that?”
Misha turned to Jensen. “I like him. You should wrap him up and keep him forever.”
And with that, he left his blushing stammering best friend and the cute office crush alone and went to get another martini.
***
Misha spent a few minutes chatting with the guy from the front desk, Aldis, who was always happy to wave Misha on through to the back cubicles whenever he showed up. Aldis had downed a few too many rum and cokes and was unsuccessfully trying to pick up one of the cute waitresses by telling her about his Star Wars action figure collection. It was entertaining to watch. Eventually though, Misha got tired of listening to the variations in space cruisers or tie fighters or whatever the hell they were called.
He thought about attempting to pick up a cute waitress himself, but figured it was bad karma or something to expect he and Jensen would both get laid on the same night at the same party. And Misha really wanted Jensen to finally bend Jared over something, so he decided to go snooping instead.
Up the flight of stairs and down the hallway, Misha came across a room that had model trains set up everywhere, with elaborate farm settings and towns and railway stations laid out all across one huge connecting table. There was also a large sign that read, “Look, don’t touch! Upon penalty of severe punishment that only I will enjoy! Thanks - Michael.”
The sign alone was enough to tempt Misha to touch the trains, so when he was done looking, he simply moved one of the little figurines of a child ice skating and set it in the middle of the railroad track. He wished he could see Evil Boss’ face when he found it like that.
Then he went into another room and backed out again quickly. It looked like Iphone-girl and male-model-guy had moved it into the bedroom. Misha guessed the girl had caught on to her companion’s intentions after all.
The next room was a bathroom and Steve, another of Jensen’s mailroom drinking buddies, was passed out on the floor. Misha propped him up a little, so the guy wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, and went on to the next room.
Things got decidedly more interesting after that.
***
All Misha could see when he opened the door was a huge-ass bed and the flickering light from a giant television that was mounted on the wall. His drink was gone and his head was a little fuzzy and the bed looked awfully inviting.
So Misha did what anyone does at the house of some rich guy they don’t know where a party is being thrown for an office they don’t even work at anyway…he kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed.
“Comfy, isn’t it?”
Misha would deny for the rest of his life that he screamed, let alone that he screamed like a girl.
The dark chuckle that seeped into the room as Misha scrambled off the bed was enough to make his hair stand on end. It would have been even creepier, if Misha hadn’t tripped backwards over his own shoes while the ominous chuckle turned into a giggle fit that only dogs could hear.
“Oh my god, just stop,” the voice said and then a light came on and Misha found himself staring up at the man on the bed. He was a little older than Misha; sandy colored hair, little scruff of a beard and big blue eyes.
Eyes that were looking down at Misha with amusement.
“How you doing down there?” the man asked and extended an arm over the side of the bed.
Misha hesitated for a second, probably because he didn’t like the way this guy was smirking at him, but then let the man help him to his feet.
“Hi,” Misha said awkwardly.
“Pop a squat,” the man replied.
“Um,” and oh good, Misha was getting as articulate as Jensen.
“Dude, I don’t even know you and you were going to climb into my bed and now just because I am in it, you’re all shy. Not cool, brother.”
It came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Evil Boss?”
If the floor would just open up and swallow him now, that would be great.
The man grinned. “I prefer Michael, but whatever suits you, Baby Blue.”
“Crap, uh, sorry. I mean, shit,” and Misha took a deep breath and plopped down on the bed. “Hi! I’m Misha! I don’t work for you but I am really enjoying your party and your open bar! So, thank you very much.”
Michael chuckled again and it wasn’t so menacing sounding with the lights on. “You are very welcome. Who’d you come with?”
“Jensen Ackles.” Misha let himself sit back against the headboard, mirroring Michael’s own pose.
“Ah, Freckles.”
“What?”
“Jensen Freckles. It’s his name.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not.”
“I have 72 people working for me. You try remembering all their names. Like that dude Freckles has a crush on, I can’t even say his name. I just call him Jared Giant.”
Misha raised an eyebrow. “To his face?”
“Fuck, no.”
They sat in silence for a minute - Michael staring at the TV and Misha staring at Michael.
“What?” the other man asked without turning to look at him.
“I don’t know. You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“You mean because they call me Evil Boss?”
Misha just shrugged. He hadn’t been 100% sure that Rosenbaum had heard that slip out of his mouth.
“Dude, I worked hard to cultivate that reputation. It’s half the fun of the job.”
Misha figured why the hell not and blurted out, “Jensen says you spend the entire board meeting talking about ham sandwiches and then want to know why your employees aren’t more productive.”
Michael turned to look at him then and Misha could see he was trying really hard not to smirk, forcing his face into a scowl instead. “Not ham sandwiches, reuben sandwiches. There’s a difference.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There is!”
“Whatever you say.”
“Yeah, well,” Michael sputtered, “your boyfriend has a crush on Jared Giant.”
Misha shrugged. “We have an open relationship.”
“Really?” and it might have been his imagination, but Misha thought the man sounded intrigued.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Jensen’s my roommate. Not my boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
“I’m straight.”
“Oh.”
Michael looked mildly disappointed when he turned back to the TV and Misha followed his gaze to the bad SyFy movie blaring out at them. It should have been more awkward, sitting on a bed with a man he didn’t know, but Misha figured it was probably the martinis that were making him feel so cool with the whole situation.
“So, you know about Jensen’s crush, eh?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Yeah, everybody does. He only looks at Giant when the other dude isn’t looking and then if he gets caught by anyone, he turns all pretty-pink and looks away again. And Giant stands in the doorway to the copy room and makes it look like he is doing actual work, even though really he is just standing there because it is the best vantage point to see Freckles’ desk.”
Misha couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face. Evil Boss was really growing on him.
“It’s utterly ridiculous how smitten they are with each other,” Michael went on. “Cute, but ridiculous. Hell, I usually throw these damn parties so my partner can find his next secretary-slash-fuck-buddy, but honestly I spend half the time I am planning this shit hoping that this is finally the one where those two do it already, just so they’ll go back to actually being productive at work.”
Misha snorted. “Unless they spend all their work hours under each other’s desks.”
“Huh,” Michael said, like he was thinking about it. “Do you figure I could get video cameras installed under the desks? That’s legal, right? For security purposes?”
“You’re kind of a perv.”
“Only kind of? Damn, I got to work on that.”
They settled into another few minutes of comfortable silence and the bad SyFy movie before Michael asked, “You wanna watch something else?” and started flipping the channels.
***
They watched the end of an episode of “What Not To Wear” and every time the woman would come out in a new outfit, Michael would comment on her shoes. Misha made a mental note to inform Jensen that Evil Boss had a shoe fetish. Then they switched to “Storage Wars”, which Michael seemed to be enjoying, but Misha was not.
“The auctioneer is giving me a headache,” he said and Michael immediately flipped the channel.
“No Animal Hoarders,” Michael said as he flipped past it. “Had too much to drink and it always ends with me writing a ginoramous check to the Humane Society.”
“Then by all means, let’s watch that. Animals need love too,” Misha told him.
Instead, Michael stopped on the next station.
It was something on a pay-per-view station called “XXX-Men”. More precisely, it was porn.
Misha was contemplating whether he would call it soft-core or hard-core porn, when there was suddenly a full penetration shot.
“Huh. Guess that would be hardcore then,” he said out-loud.
“Should I change it?” Michael asked, but when Misha turned to look at him, he noticed Michael had already set the remote control on the bedside table.
“Whatever. As long as you are aware that this isn’t going to end like a porno for us.”
“So no convincing you that we should jerk off and then telling you that it’s better with someone else’s hand and then using your inebriated state to get you to go down on me? Bummer.” Michael was grinning as he said it and Misha couldn’t help but laugh.
“Man, I’m really starting to like you.”
“Then I must be doing something wrong,” Michael said and turned back to the TV.
The woman was on all fours, her tits swinging back and forth and she was moaning like a pro. When the guy reached forward and started tugging on her hair, Misha finally started to get uncomfortable.
He shifted a little, tried not to make it obvious, and wondered if Michael would laugh at him if he asked to change the channel now. But Misha figured the other man had to be feeling it too, so he glanced over and down, just to check and see.
And nothing was happening. Not that Misha had a ton of experience trying to tell if another dude had a hard-on or anything, but it looked like Michael was completely relaxed over there.
Shit.
The man on the TV was slapping the woman’s ass hard as he slammed into her again and again.
Misha half-squeezed his legs together and tried to focus on something other than the moans and grunts coming from the TV. He let his eyes wander over to the framed baseball cards on the wall, tried to determine if they were autographed or not. Didn’t seem like there was a reason to frame them if they weren’t.
Staring at the baseball cards wasn’t really helping though. It was hard enough to ignore the hardcore fucking playing across the television, but damn near impossible to ignore the presence of another man sitting less than two feet away from him.
Misha cocked his head in Michael’s direction and saw he was relaxed back, sipping on his drink and tapping his foot along to the music overlaying the porn scene.
“So this is doing nothing for you at all?” he asked his companion.
“Nope,” Rosenbaum said without looking away from the TV. “What part of gay do you not understand?”
“No, I didn’t…no, but…well I can see his dick right there.”
“Maybe I just don’t have the hormone level of a teenage boy?”
“I don’t have the hormone level of a teenage boy!” Misha shouted.
“And yet, your erection says otherwise.”
Misha squirmed in his spot. “Stop looking at my junk.”
“You looked first.”
“Well…that was for research purposes!”
Michael just chuckled. “Alright, Baby Blue, let’s say for research purposes, you needed some self-release,” and Michael was looking him right in the eyes and fuck, Misha was hard and this was ridiculous.
He basically had two options - get up and leave now to go get his drink on, or take it out of his pants.
“I’m not really into dudes,” Misha said.
Michael just cocked an eyebrow. “And I’m not really into virgins, so relax. I’m not gonna try to coerce you into anything, man.”
“M’not a virgin,” Misha mumbled.
“You know what I meant,” Michael replied, voice low and dark. Something inside Misha stirred a little at the sound of it.
He swallowed hard and tried to think of a clever response that would put Michael as on edge as Misha himself was feeling. But when Misha didn’t say anything right away, Rosenbaum just shrugged and turned back to the TV.
Misha took a deep breath. He’d done weirder things with strangers in college, right? And this was a party, after all.
“Fine. But looking, no touching,” and Misha grinned. “Under penalty of punishment that only I will enjoy.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy it too, but whatever,” Michael said and even though he sounded casual, Misha could see him shifting his position to get a better vantage point.
So, okay, not the weirdest thing Misha had ever done, but definitely the weirdest thing he had done this month.
***
Misha started to unbutton his shirt. It was a nice shirt, expensive, and even if it was Jensen’s and the idea of getting his cum all over it was hilarious, it wasn’t really practical.
Besides, this was going to stay between him and Rosenbaum - no reason to leave any evidence behind.
Misha could hear the other man’s breathing speed up and he felt his own breath quicken, as his slid the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it to the side. By the time he started to unbutton his slacks, his hands were shaking.
He didn’t know why he was doing this, didn’t know why it was so exciting. Misha kept his eyes glued to the television now, where the woman was currently straddling her partner and rocking up and down on the man’s cock. Misha was trying to focus solely on the scene playing out in front of him, trying to ignore the feeling of Michael pressing in from behind, where the man had wedged half of his body between the headboard and Misha’s shoulder. Tried to ignore the way Michael was leaning over his back, breath ghosting across Misha’s cheek, raspy in Misha’s ear.
Evil Boss didn’t waste any damn time moving in for the kill, that was for sure.
Misha lifted his hips ever so slightly and lowered his pants just enough to free the entire length of his cock.
“Fuck,” Michael whispered next to him and Misha jerked, his body pulling away from Michael, while his cock twitched at the sound of the voice.
He should tell Michael to get back on his side of the bed, but he didn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to the form words. Instead, Misha just reached down and circled his fingers around his length. It was like fire and ice all at once, the first touch. Misha’s whole body pulsed and his knees involuntarily squeezed together.
“Ssshhh,” Michael whispered, coaxing Misha into submission. Despite himself, Misha felt his cock pulse in his hand.
So, exhibition kink - yes.
On the screen, the woman was leaning over enough so her partner could suck on one of her nipples.
Misha fixed his eyes on the way she was pressing the man’s head into her chest with one hand, while Misha brought his own hand up to lick a stripe straight up his palm. He shoved three fingers in his mouth and swirled his tongue around them before bringing his hand back down to his cock.
His grip was loose at first, not quite fully hard and Misha let himself thrust ever-so-slightly up into it, let it pulse and harden under his touch. He didn’t let his eyes stray from the screen, kept them wide and open, but there was still no denying the warmth of Michael’s chest pressed against Misha’s side, against his back, his shoulder.
“Freckles should bring friends to my parties more often,” Michael whispered and his voice was so dark and so raw that Misha’s grip on himself tightened involuntarily and his head fell back against the wall.
“Fuck,” Misha groaned and twisted his wrist on the upstroke.
“You’re not looking at the television,” Michael breathed in his ear.
“Shut up. Fuck, shit, I don’t…I don’t…”
“It’s okay, relax,” Michael said and Misha didn’t need his own spit anymore, with all the precum leaking out of his slit.
“I don’t…” Misha tried again, bringing his other hand, shaking and sweating, down to cup his balls through the material of his dress slacks. Or rather, Jensen’s dress slacks.
“I know, you don’t even like dudes,” Michael said and chuckled, deep and from his chest, like it was settling inside some layer of the man and waiting to rise out.
Misha’s hips lifted clear off the bed.
“I don’t…fuck, drink. I don’t usually drink like this,” he finally got out, because it was true. He didn’t. He couldn’t afford too, not on his non-existent salary.
“If that’s the excuse you are going with,” Michael said and his voice sounded so supremely different from the man who had been joking with Misha minutes before over Jensen’s stupid office-crush, and suddenly Misha was shoving his other hand down into his underwear, gripping his base tight, trying not to embarrass himself too quickly, even as his hand sped up.
“But maybe, just maybe, you like to show off,” Michael said and now he was leaning so far over that his lips were brushing against Misha’s ear lobe, tongue slipping out to lap at the beads of sweat there. “Maybe you like me watching you, like me seeing everything you have to show me…”
Misha ran a finger across his tip, pressed hard against his slit, gathered everything he could and then started in a hard and fast rhythm, not caring anymore what Michael thought if he came like a horny teenager.
He just needed to finish this.
“Do you, Baby Blue? Do you like showing me that long slick cock of yours? Judging by how wet you are for me, I’d say you do.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, or in a foggy far-off place, Misha could hear the woman in the porno coming and screaming her way through an orgasm.
The sound was nothing compared to Michael’s voice, soft and hard at once, breathing into Misha’s ear and seeping its way down into his cock, pulsing its way back out of him and soaking Misha’s hand in the process.
“Don’t you want to show me everything, give me everything, give it all up for me? I want to see you wreck yourself, Misha. Do it for me.”
“Fuckfuckfuck,” Misha breathed and his hips wouldn’t stop shoving up, even as his hand moved faster, tightened more, pushed it out of him.
“That’s it, baby, let go for me,” Michael said, and it wasn’t whispered or soft, but loud and firm and commanding and Misha was coming then, spurting hot and hard over himself, his stomach muscles jumping and seizing, his hips locked a half an inch off the bed, head pressed impossibly hard into the wall behind him and Misha was making a chocked off strangled noise that didn’t seem to want to stop.
Then, before his hips could settle back on the bed or his cock could stop pulsing, a warm soft hand was pressing against the small of Misha’s back and he felt himself seize up one last time, the feel of Michael touching him there, anywhere, too much - this stranger he didn’t even know having watched that, having watched him, and now this soft simple caress and Misha couldn’t help it, his body releasing one last time before everything stilled.
It was like a rush of darkness, only he could still see, and the light was too bright and everything was too hot and too much and Misha found himself weakly pulling away from Michael.
The other man slid back to his side of the bed, folded his hands in his lap, though Misha was sure he saw Michael press a palm to his own erection that was straining hard against the outline of his slacks.
On the television screen, the pay-per-view station was showing an advertisement for something called “Master And Cummander,” which apparently was coming up in exactly 8 minutes - if they hurried, they could order now.
The sound of Misha’s labored breathing was overwhelming, but he still managed to catch Michael’s words.
“Best. Party. Ever.”
***
When he got his feet under him, Misha managed to make it to the bathroom - the one where Steve was still passed out on the floor. He washed up and put his clothes in the best order possible, considering he couldn’t quite feel all his limbs just yet.
Then he went downstairs to find Jensen waiting in nearly, but not quite the same, spot that he had left him in earlier.
“Where’s lover-boy?” Misha asked and hoped his flushed face only made Jensen think he had been taking advantage of the open bar.
“His friend wanted to go home. Think Jeff the Tech Guy used the wanna see my kilobyte line on her.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Misha said.
“Man, Jeff doesn’t even know what that means.”
“So his friend, not his girlfriend?” Misha asked.
Jensen nodded and downed the rest of what was clearly the last in a very long line of beer, if the row of empty bottles sitting next to him was any indication.
“So, did you guys…”
Jensen just blushed and looked down at the floor. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“You and me both, man,” Misha said, then dragged Jensen upstairs to help get Steve on his feet. It wouldn’t do to the leave the poor man on the bathroom floor all weekend.
By the time they got Steve conscious enough to walk and loaded him into the car, Christian had joined them.
“We do all the heavy lifting and then you show up,” Jensen muttered, as Christian slid into the backseat next to Steve, who was blinking drunkenly at his surroundings.
“Steve, if you gotta throw up, you do it on Chris, alright?” Misha told him, as he took the car keys from the valet and slid into the driver’s seat.
“I want pancakes!” Steve announced suddenly.
“Yes, please, the only thing that will make this stupid party not suck,” Christian muttered. “Let’s pancake it up.”
“Pancake it up?” Jensen asked and then, “Anyways, what happened to the hottie you were sucking face with?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Pancakes,” Steve muttered and then passed out against the window.
Pancakes sounded pretty damn good right about then. Misha started the car and threw it into drive.
Later, when they got home just as the sun was coming up, Misha would find a message on the answering machine that simply said, “Hey there, Baby Blue. I’m getting surround sound in next week. You should come over, watch a movie with me. Sound like a plan?”
And to Misha, it absolutely sounded like a plan.
The End
I hate figuring out categories and it's been awhile since I had to have warnings (or kinks) so if you notice anything I forgot, please to let me know. I intended this to be a PWP, but it seems to have stretched out just a tiny bit into the area of having substance - just a little. So I threw a romance tag in there too.
NC-17, AU, PWP, Romance, Michael Rosenbaum/Misha Collins with some J2, Aldis, Christian & Steve. When Misha tags along to a party at Jensen’s boss’ house, things get a little out of hand. Or in hand, whichever. 4,828 words.
Warnings/Kinks - Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Drunkenness (look at all the new kink tags!)
Title: The Rules Of Rosenbaum’s (Or What Happens Here, Stays Here)
Author: The Artful Dodger / dodger_sister
Fandom: CW RPS
Category: AU, PWP, Romance
Characters/Pairing: Mike/Misha, Jared/Jensen, Christian, Steve & Aldis
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Drunkenness
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: When Misha tags along to a party at Jensen’s boss’ house, things get a little out of hand. Or in hand, whichever.
Word Count: 4,828 words.
Date Written: August, 2010
Disclaimer: These people are not mine. Boo. They didn’t do these things. Boo. I wrote this story. Yay. It makes me no money. Boo.
Feedback: Bring it. dodger_sister / TheArtofDodger@comcast.net
Beta’d: Nope.
Author's Notes: This took longer to write than porn should. I figured I would get Misha’s pants off within 1,000 words, at most. That did not happen. However, the outcome was that this story ended up with a little more substance than originally intended. I threw in enough story and characterizations, that if I so desired, I could write a sequel. Or some companion pieces about what everyone else did at the party - because wow did the J2 in this sneak up on me. I won’t, but I could. I guess maybe it’s a sign of my maturity that I can’t write a simple PWP anymore without throwing something else in there with it. But then someone says the word “balls” and I giggle like a ten year old - so maybe not so much with the maturity. Even so, with the addition of a little storyline here, it is still the kinkiest thing I have written in a long time. I even went back in and made it a little filthier, so not completely unable to write the porn.
Dedication: For aythia. It’s a little past your birthday, babe, but I hope you like this belated gift. Because you are awesome and deserve all the porn in the world! I can’t give you all the porn in the world, but here, have some M2. Love and kisses!!
"But why do I have to go?" Misha whined and threw himself backwards onto the couch in the most mellow-dramatic way he could.
“Because it’s your job as my roommate to accompany me to boring office parties,” Jensen told him plainly.
“The word roommate implies that I pay rent. I am really just a guy crashing in the extra bed in your spare ’oom,” Misha said, but he knew it was no use. Jensen hated office parties and he wouldn’t quit needling Misha until he agreed to go.
“Did you just say spare ’oom?” Jensen asked.
Misha shrugged, because no one appreciated his sense of humor.
Jensen batted those long pretty eyelashes at him, which was totally unfair, and threw in a “Please?”
Misha was walking towards his bedroom, more aptly called Jensen’s study, when his friend called out, “There’s an open bar!”
Misha wondered if he would have to wear a tie.
***
Mr. Rosenbaum lived in a freaking palace. It had a wrought iron gate and a long winding drive and he had hired valet parkers for the evening. Misha, being a starving-artist and out-of-work part-time construction guy, wasn’t above casing the place for valuables. The main room alone was huge, with chandeliers and nearly-wall-sized windows.
Also, as promised, an open bar.
Jensen got a beer, because his friend had never known how to take advantage of other people’s wealth and settled into a corner to stare longingly at his office-crush, who much to the dismay of pretty much everyone in the room, had come to the party with a stunning brunette girl with a decent rack and hips to match.
Misha got a martini from the bartender and then settled in next to Jensen, who for once didn’t want to drone on about how Jared would never notice him in that way.
“Everyone here is from the office,” Jensen hissed under his breath. “Someone might hear you.”
“Sweetheart,” Misha said kindly, “there is no way in hell that all of these people don’t already know. You are not subtle.”
Jensen just scowled and downed his beer.
Misha enjoyed the scenery for awhile. Most of the people from the office were under-dressed for a party in such a fancy place, but one girl was wearing a very nice wrap dress that accented her in all the right places. Unfortunately for Misha’s desire to get laid, she was already sucking face with a kid with spiky blonde hair and Christian from the mailroom - a guy Jensen had brought home drunk off his ass on more than a few Friday nights. Misha still was unsure if Jensen and Christian had ever slept together, but they certainly weren’t going home together tonight.
There was another dude; tall, dark hair, gorgeous in that male model sort of way, who was trying his hardest to get his hand up the skirt of some little blonde woman who was completely oblivious and attempting to show him something on her Iphone.
So, basically, Mr. Rosenbaum just threw these office parties so everyone could blow off some steam through the act of intercourse.
Good to know.
“He gives you crappy health-care packages, but he makes sure you all get laid at least once a year?” Misha asked Jensen, just to stop his friend from brooding for any longer.
“What? Who?”
“Evil Boss.”
Oh,” Jensen said and shrugged. “Well, I’m not getting laid tonight, so I guess no.”
“You could be getting laid tonight,” Misha told him, because it’s not like Jensen hadn’t turned a half a dozen heads since they got there. Hell, the valet kid probably wouldn’t have said no, if Jensen had offered.
“Are you implying you want to go home with me tonight?” Jensen asked with a smirk.
“Yes.”
“Wait…what?” and Jensen’s wide shocked eyes were too adorable for Misha not to smile.
“Because I live with you,” he said and ducked out of the way before Jensen could smack the back of his head.
“You suck.”
Misha grinned. “Actually, you suck. I don’t swing that way.”
Jensen was making another attempt to smack Misha again, when someone said, “Hey, Jensen. Uh, hi.”
Misha was unsure how this giant of a man had crept up on them but there he was, all 6’4” of Jared Padalecki, long shaggy hair flopping over one eye and his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
“Uh,” Jensen said articulately.
“Hi,” Misha said brightly and stood up. “I’m Misha,” he added and offered Jared his hand.
“Uh, yeah, we’ve met,” Jared told him, because it’s not like Misha never showed up at the office to beg Jensen to buy him lunch. Starving artist wasn’t just a phrase people used for fun.
“I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” Misha said, only very slightly embarrassed.
“Uh, yeah, Jensen talks about you all the time,” Jared answered and Misha was absolutely not imagining the scowl that came with that statement.
He smiled evilly. “Well, Jensen loves me a lot.” Really, Misha wasn’t the least bit surprised to feel Jensen pinch his side.
He waited a full five seconds of awkward silence before adding, “Because we’ve been friends since forever and I live in the spare ’oom.”
Jared’s shoulders visible relaxed at that and then he smiled. “Spare ’oom. I would totally date Mr. Tumnus. Is that weird? Why did I just tell you that?”
Misha turned to Jensen. “I like him. You should wrap him up and keep him forever.”
And with that, he left his blushing stammering best friend and the cute office crush alone and went to get another martini.
***
Misha spent a few minutes chatting with the guy from the front desk, Aldis, who was always happy to wave Misha on through to the back cubicles whenever he showed up. Aldis had downed a few too many rum and cokes and was unsuccessfully trying to pick up one of the cute waitresses by telling her about his Star Wars action figure collection. It was entertaining to watch. Eventually though, Misha got tired of listening to the variations in space cruisers or tie fighters or whatever the hell they were called.
He thought about attempting to pick up a cute waitress himself, but figured it was bad karma or something to expect he and Jensen would both get laid on the same night at the same party. And Misha really wanted Jensen to finally bend Jared over something, so he decided to go snooping instead.
Up the flight of stairs and down the hallway, Misha came across a room that had model trains set up everywhere, with elaborate farm settings and towns and railway stations laid out all across one huge connecting table. There was also a large sign that read, “Look, don’t touch! Upon penalty of severe punishment that only I will enjoy! Thanks - Michael.”
The sign alone was enough to tempt Misha to touch the trains, so when he was done looking, he simply moved one of the little figurines of a child ice skating and set it in the middle of the railroad track. He wished he could see Evil Boss’ face when he found it like that.
Then he went into another room and backed out again quickly. It looked like Iphone-girl and male-model-guy had moved it into the bedroom. Misha guessed the girl had caught on to her companion’s intentions after all.
The next room was a bathroom and Steve, another of Jensen’s mailroom drinking buddies, was passed out on the floor. Misha propped him up a little, so the guy wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, and went on to the next room.
Things got decidedly more interesting after that.
***
All Misha could see when he opened the door was a huge-ass bed and the flickering light from a giant television that was mounted on the wall. His drink was gone and his head was a little fuzzy and the bed looked awfully inviting.
So Misha did what anyone does at the house of some rich guy they don’t know where a party is being thrown for an office they don’t even work at anyway…he kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed.
“Comfy, isn’t it?”
Misha would deny for the rest of his life that he screamed, let alone that he screamed like a girl.
The dark chuckle that seeped into the room as Misha scrambled off the bed was enough to make his hair stand on end. It would have been even creepier, if Misha hadn’t tripped backwards over his own shoes while the ominous chuckle turned into a giggle fit that only dogs could hear.
“Oh my god, just stop,” the voice said and then a light came on and Misha found himself staring up at the man on the bed. He was a little older than Misha; sandy colored hair, little scruff of a beard and big blue eyes.
Eyes that were looking down at Misha with amusement.
“How you doing down there?” the man asked and extended an arm over the side of the bed.
Misha hesitated for a second, probably because he didn’t like the way this guy was smirking at him, but then let the man help him to his feet.
“Hi,” Misha said awkwardly.
“Pop a squat,” the man replied.
“Um,” and oh good, Misha was getting as articulate as Jensen.
“Dude, I don’t even know you and you were going to climb into my bed and now just because I am in it, you’re all shy. Not cool, brother.”
It came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Evil Boss?”
If the floor would just open up and swallow him now, that would be great.
The man grinned. “I prefer Michael, but whatever suits you, Baby Blue.”
“Crap, uh, sorry. I mean, shit,” and Misha took a deep breath and plopped down on the bed. “Hi! I’m Misha! I don’t work for you but I am really enjoying your party and your open bar! So, thank you very much.”
Michael chuckled again and it wasn’t so menacing sounding with the lights on. “You are very welcome. Who’d you come with?”
“Jensen Ackles.” Misha let himself sit back against the headboard, mirroring Michael’s own pose.
“Ah, Freckles.”
“What?”
“Jensen Freckles. It’s his name.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not.”
“I have 72 people working for me. You try remembering all their names. Like that dude Freckles has a crush on, I can’t even say his name. I just call him Jared Giant.”
Misha raised an eyebrow. “To his face?”
“Fuck, no.”
They sat in silence for a minute - Michael staring at the TV and Misha staring at Michael.
“What?” the other man asked without turning to look at him.
“I don’t know. You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“You mean because they call me Evil Boss?”
Misha just shrugged. He hadn’t been 100% sure that Rosenbaum had heard that slip out of his mouth.
“Dude, I worked hard to cultivate that reputation. It’s half the fun of the job.”
Misha figured why the hell not and blurted out, “Jensen says you spend the entire board meeting talking about ham sandwiches and then want to know why your employees aren’t more productive.”
Michael turned to look at him then and Misha could see he was trying really hard not to smirk, forcing his face into a scowl instead. “Not ham sandwiches, reuben sandwiches. There’s a difference.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There is!”
“Whatever you say.”
“Yeah, well,” Michael sputtered, “your boyfriend has a crush on Jared Giant.”
Misha shrugged. “We have an open relationship.”
“Really?” and it might have been his imagination, but Misha thought the man sounded intrigued.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Jensen’s my roommate. Not my boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
“I’m straight.”
“Oh.”
Michael looked mildly disappointed when he turned back to the TV and Misha followed his gaze to the bad SyFy movie blaring out at them. It should have been more awkward, sitting on a bed with a man he didn’t know, but Misha figured it was probably the martinis that were making him feel so cool with the whole situation.
“So, you know about Jensen’s crush, eh?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Yeah, everybody does. He only looks at Giant when the other dude isn’t looking and then if he gets caught by anyone, he turns all pretty-pink and looks away again. And Giant stands in the doorway to the copy room and makes it look like he is doing actual work, even though really he is just standing there because it is the best vantage point to see Freckles’ desk.”
Misha couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face. Evil Boss was really growing on him.
“It’s utterly ridiculous how smitten they are with each other,” Michael went on. “Cute, but ridiculous. Hell, I usually throw these damn parties so my partner can find his next secretary-slash-fuck-buddy, but honestly I spend half the time I am planning this shit hoping that this is finally the one where those two do it already, just so they’ll go back to actually being productive at work.”
Misha snorted. “Unless they spend all their work hours under each other’s desks.”
“Huh,” Michael said, like he was thinking about it. “Do you figure I could get video cameras installed under the desks? That’s legal, right? For security purposes?”
“You’re kind of a perv.”
“Only kind of? Damn, I got to work on that.”
They settled into another few minutes of comfortable silence and the bad SyFy movie before Michael asked, “You wanna watch something else?” and started flipping the channels.
***
They watched the end of an episode of “What Not To Wear” and every time the woman would come out in a new outfit, Michael would comment on her shoes. Misha made a mental note to inform Jensen that Evil Boss had a shoe fetish. Then they switched to “Storage Wars”, which Michael seemed to be enjoying, but Misha was not.
“The auctioneer is giving me a headache,” he said and Michael immediately flipped the channel.
“No Animal Hoarders,” Michael said as he flipped past it. “Had too much to drink and it always ends with me writing a ginoramous check to the Humane Society.”
“Then by all means, let’s watch that. Animals need love too,” Misha told him.
Instead, Michael stopped on the next station.
It was something on a pay-per-view station called “XXX-Men”. More precisely, it was porn.
Misha was contemplating whether he would call it soft-core or hard-core porn, when there was suddenly a full penetration shot.
“Huh. Guess that would be hardcore then,” he said out-loud.
“Should I change it?” Michael asked, but when Misha turned to look at him, he noticed Michael had already set the remote control on the bedside table.
“Whatever. As long as you are aware that this isn’t going to end like a porno for us.”
“So no convincing you that we should jerk off and then telling you that it’s better with someone else’s hand and then using your inebriated state to get you to go down on me? Bummer.” Michael was grinning as he said it and Misha couldn’t help but laugh.
“Man, I’m really starting to like you.”
“Then I must be doing something wrong,” Michael said and turned back to the TV.
The woman was on all fours, her tits swinging back and forth and she was moaning like a pro. When the guy reached forward and started tugging on her hair, Misha finally started to get uncomfortable.
He shifted a little, tried not to make it obvious, and wondered if Michael would laugh at him if he asked to change the channel now. But Misha figured the other man had to be feeling it too, so he glanced over and down, just to check and see.
And nothing was happening. Not that Misha had a ton of experience trying to tell if another dude had a hard-on or anything, but it looked like Michael was completely relaxed over there.
Shit.
The man on the TV was slapping the woman’s ass hard as he slammed into her again and again.
Misha half-squeezed his legs together and tried to focus on something other than the moans and grunts coming from the TV. He let his eyes wander over to the framed baseball cards on the wall, tried to determine if they were autographed or not. Didn’t seem like there was a reason to frame them if they weren’t.
Staring at the baseball cards wasn’t really helping though. It was hard enough to ignore the hardcore fucking playing across the television, but damn near impossible to ignore the presence of another man sitting less than two feet away from him.
Misha cocked his head in Michael’s direction and saw he was relaxed back, sipping on his drink and tapping his foot along to the music overlaying the porn scene.
“So this is doing nothing for you at all?” he asked his companion.
“Nope,” Rosenbaum said without looking away from the TV. “What part of gay do you not understand?”
“No, I didn’t…no, but…well I can see his dick right there.”
“Maybe I just don’t have the hormone level of a teenage boy?”
“I don’t have the hormone level of a teenage boy!” Misha shouted.
“And yet, your erection says otherwise.”
Misha squirmed in his spot. “Stop looking at my junk.”
“You looked first.”
“Well…that was for research purposes!”
Michael just chuckled. “Alright, Baby Blue, let’s say for research purposes, you needed some self-release,” and Michael was looking him right in the eyes and fuck, Misha was hard and this was ridiculous.
He basically had two options - get up and leave now to go get his drink on, or take it out of his pants.
“I’m not really into dudes,” Misha said.
Michael just cocked an eyebrow. “And I’m not really into virgins, so relax. I’m not gonna try to coerce you into anything, man.”
“M’not a virgin,” Misha mumbled.
“You know what I meant,” Michael replied, voice low and dark. Something inside Misha stirred a little at the sound of it.
He swallowed hard and tried to think of a clever response that would put Michael as on edge as Misha himself was feeling. But when Misha didn’t say anything right away, Rosenbaum just shrugged and turned back to the TV.
Misha took a deep breath. He’d done weirder things with strangers in college, right? And this was a party, after all.
“Fine. But looking, no touching,” and Misha grinned. “Under penalty of punishment that only I will enjoy.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy it too, but whatever,” Michael said and even though he sounded casual, Misha could see him shifting his position to get a better vantage point.
So, okay, not the weirdest thing Misha had ever done, but definitely the weirdest thing he had done this month.
***
Misha started to unbutton his shirt. It was a nice shirt, expensive, and even if it was Jensen’s and the idea of getting his cum all over it was hilarious, it wasn’t really practical.
Besides, this was going to stay between him and Rosenbaum - no reason to leave any evidence behind.
Misha could hear the other man’s breathing speed up and he felt his own breath quicken, as his slid the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it to the side. By the time he started to unbutton his slacks, his hands were shaking.
He didn’t know why he was doing this, didn’t know why it was so exciting. Misha kept his eyes glued to the television now, where the woman was currently straddling her partner and rocking up and down on the man’s cock. Misha was trying to focus solely on the scene playing out in front of him, trying to ignore the feeling of Michael pressing in from behind, where the man had wedged half of his body between the headboard and Misha’s shoulder. Tried to ignore the way Michael was leaning over his back, breath ghosting across Misha’s cheek, raspy in Misha’s ear.
Evil Boss didn’t waste any damn time moving in for the kill, that was for sure.
Misha lifted his hips ever so slightly and lowered his pants just enough to free the entire length of his cock.
“Fuck,” Michael whispered next to him and Misha jerked, his body pulling away from Michael, while his cock twitched at the sound of the voice.
He should tell Michael to get back on his side of the bed, but he didn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to the form words. Instead, Misha just reached down and circled his fingers around his length. It was like fire and ice all at once, the first touch. Misha’s whole body pulsed and his knees involuntarily squeezed together.
“Ssshhh,” Michael whispered, coaxing Misha into submission. Despite himself, Misha felt his cock pulse in his hand.
So, exhibition kink - yes.
On the screen, the woman was leaning over enough so her partner could suck on one of her nipples.
Misha fixed his eyes on the way she was pressing the man’s head into her chest with one hand, while Misha brought his own hand up to lick a stripe straight up his palm. He shoved three fingers in his mouth and swirled his tongue around them before bringing his hand back down to his cock.
His grip was loose at first, not quite fully hard and Misha let himself thrust ever-so-slightly up into it, let it pulse and harden under his touch. He didn’t let his eyes stray from the screen, kept them wide and open, but there was still no denying the warmth of Michael’s chest pressed against Misha’s side, against his back, his shoulder.
“Freckles should bring friends to my parties more often,” Michael whispered and his voice was so dark and so raw that Misha’s grip on himself tightened involuntarily and his head fell back against the wall.
“Fuck,” Misha groaned and twisted his wrist on the upstroke.
“You’re not looking at the television,” Michael breathed in his ear.
“Shut up. Fuck, shit, I don’t…I don’t…”
“It’s okay, relax,” Michael said and Misha didn’t need his own spit anymore, with all the precum leaking out of his slit.
“I don’t…” Misha tried again, bringing his other hand, shaking and sweating, down to cup his balls through the material of his dress slacks. Or rather, Jensen’s dress slacks.
“I know, you don’t even like dudes,” Michael said and chuckled, deep and from his chest, like it was settling inside some layer of the man and waiting to rise out.
Misha’s hips lifted clear off the bed.
“I don’t…fuck, drink. I don’t usually drink like this,” he finally got out, because it was true. He didn’t. He couldn’t afford too, not on his non-existent salary.
“If that’s the excuse you are going with,” Michael said and his voice sounded so supremely different from the man who had been joking with Misha minutes before over Jensen’s stupid office-crush, and suddenly Misha was shoving his other hand down into his underwear, gripping his base tight, trying not to embarrass himself too quickly, even as his hand sped up.
“But maybe, just maybe, you like to show off,” Michael said and now he was leaning so far over that his lips were brushing against Misha’s ear lobe, tongue slipping out to lap at the beads of sweat there. “Maybe you like me watching you, like me seeing everything you have to show me…”
Misha ran a finger across his tip, pressed hard against his slit, gathered everything he could and then started in a hard and fast rhythm, not caring anymore what Michael thought if he came like a horny teenager.
He just needed to finish this.
“Do you, Baby Blue? Do you like showing me that long slick cock of yours? Judging by how wet you are for me, I’d say you do.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, or in a foggy far-off place, Misha could hear the woman in the porno coming and screaming her way through an orgasm.
The sound was nothing compared to Michael’s voice, soft and hard at once, breathing into Misha’s ear and seeping its way down into his cock, pulsing its way back out of him and soaking Misha’s hand in the process.
“Don’t you want to show me everything, give me everything, give it all up for me? I want to see you wreck yourself, Misha. Do it for me.”
“Fuckfuckfuck,” Misha breathed and his hips wouldn’t stop shoving up, even as his hand moved faster, tightened more, pushed it out of him.
“That’s it, baby, let go for me,” Michael said, and it wasn’t whispered or soft, but loud and firm and commanding and Misha was coming then, spurting hot and hard over himself, his stomach muscles jumping and seizing, his hips locked a half an inch off the bed, head pressed impossibly hard into the wall behind him and Misha was making a chocked off strangled noise that didn’t seem to want to stop.
Then, before his hips could settle back on the bed or his cock could stop pulsing, a warm soft hand was pressing against the small of Misha’s back and he felt himself seize up one last time, the feel of Michael touching him there, anywhere, too much - this stranger he didn’t even know having watched that, having watched him, and now this soft simple caress and Misha couldn’t help it, his body releasing one last time before everything stilled.
It was like a rush of darkness, only he could still see, and the light was too bright and everything was too hot and too much and Misha found himself weakly pulling away from Michael.
The other man slid back to his side of the bed, folded his hands in his lap, though Misha was sure he saw Michael press a palm to his own erection that was straining hard against the outline of his slacks.
On the television screen, the pay-per-view station was showing an advertisement for something called “Master And Cummander,” which apparently was coming up in exactly 8 minutes - if they hurried, they could order now.
The sound of Misha’s labored breathing was overwhelming, but he still managed to catch Michael’s words.
“Best. Party. Ever.”
***
When he got his feet under him, Misha managed to make it to the bathroom - the one where Steve was still passed out on the floor. He washed up and put his clothes in the best order possible, considering he couldn’t quite feel all his limbs just yet.
Then he went downstairs to find Jensen waiting in nearly, but not quite the same, spot that he had left him in earlier.
“Where’s lover-boy?” Misha asked and hoped his flushed face only made Jensen think he had been taking advantage of the open bar.
“His friend wanted to go home. Think Jeff the Tech Guy used the wanna see my kilobyte line on her.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Misha said.
“Man, Jeff doesn’t even know what that means.”
“So his friend, not his girlfriend?” Misha asked.
Jensen nodded and downed the rest of what was clearly the last in a very long line of beer, if the row of empty bottles sitting next to him was any indication.
“So, did you guys…”
Jensen just blushed and looked down at the floor. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“You and me both, man,” Misha said, then dragged Jensen upstairs to help get Steve on his feet. It wouldn’t do to the leave the poor man on the bathroom floor all weekend.
By the time they got Steve conscious enough to walk and loaded him into the car, Christian had joined them.
“We do all the heavy lifting and then you show up,” Jensen muttered, as Christian slid into the backseat next to Steve, who was blinking drunkenly at his surroundings.
“Steve, if you gotta throw up, you do it on Chris, alright?” Misha told him, as he took the car keys from the valet and slid into the driver’s seat.
“I want pancakes!” Steve announced suddenly.
“Yes, please, the only thing that will make this stupid party not suck,” Christian muttered. “Let’s pancake it up.”
“Pancake it up?” Jensen asked and then, “Anyways, what happened to the hottie you were sucking face with?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Pancakes,” Steve muttered and then passed out against the window.
Pancakes sounded pretty damn good right about then. Misha started the car and threw it into drive.
Later, when they got home just as the sun was coming up, Misha would find a message on the answering machine that simply said, “Hey there, Baby Blue. I’m getting surround sound in next week. You should come over, watch a movie with me. Sound like a plan?”
And to Misha, it absolutely sounded like a plan.
The End