FIC: "Singing Sweetly Through The Night" - 1/1, PG13, CK/MC/JA, CW RPS
Title: Singing Sweetly Through the Night
Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Christian Kane/Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles
Rating: PG13
Summary: Holiday hijinks
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Notes: The 'thirteenth day of Christmas', and credit goes to wendyr for this one. It's a wee bit more than what she requested, but when the bunny bites, you go with the flow. *g*
"Hark, the herald angels sing...."
Christian stops in the doorway and takes in the scene in the living room. Jensen's comfortably settled in the recliner, one long leg slung over the arm, fingers curled in a loose grip around a bottle of beer. On the other side of the room, Misha is sprawled upside-down on the sofa with his head almost touching the floor.
And he's singing. Loud and off-key.
A sweet, heavy smell reaches Christian's nose, and he gives Jensen a flat look. "You started without me."
Jensen just smiles a tiny little half-smile and takes a swig of beer, his eyes never leaving Misha, who seems to have a problem remembering what lyrics come next. "It's his first time."
"No shit?" That puts a whole different spin on the plans for the evening. Christian grins as Misha convulses with giggles and rolls off the sofa. "How much?"
"Just one."
"And he's already this far gone?" Christian shakes his head and drops onto the sofa, bending to peer at Misha, who's trying to crawl under the coffee table. "Silly bastard, it's 'angels we have heard on high'," he says, "not 'angels we have heard are high'."
"Kane," Jensen groans, leaning forward to pass a fresh joint to Christian, "that's bad even for you."
"Should probably cut him off," Christian says, after lighting up and taking a long drag, letting the acrid smoke bite into his tongue and throat. "Otherwise, later on won't be much fun."
"Yeah, it will." Jensen smirks as he finishes his beer.
For a few minutes, Christian just sits there and watches Misha as he lays facedown on the floor, gripping the carpet like he's afraid he'll fall off or something. Then he sits back, smoke hazing his view of Jensen as Christian takes another hit off the joint. "Feel like we're taking advantage of him, won't it?"
Jensen snorts. "Not according to him."
"How so?" Christian passes the joint to Jensen, then looks back down at Misha, who is now on his back, blinking up at Christian. "No way in hell he knows what he's agreeing to now."
Slumped down in the chair, Jensen inhales and holds his breath for a few seconds. Laugh lines crinkle the corners of his eyes as he exhales with a grin. "He agreed before we lit up."
"Oh?" That changes everything. His interest piqued, Christian watches as Misha rolls to his hands and knees and starts a slow crawl towards the sofa and Christian.
"Mmhmm," Jensen murmurs, watching with clear interest, eyes going dark as Misha reaches Christian and pushes his knees apart. "Said he didn't care how fucked up he got, if he didn't get fucked -- by both of us -- we were dead men in the morning."
Christian looks down as nimble fingers fumble at his zipper. Blue eyes (just a ring of blue, really, around pupils so large Christian thinks he could fall into them) twinkle up at him, and Misha grins as he manages to drag Christian's zipper down and reach inside. "Pussying out on me?"
"Did he just...."
"Yeah, I think he did, Kane."
"Damn."
"Hard to call you a pussy if his mouth's busy doing other things."
"Good point. You still got those handcuffs?"
"Better let him sober up a bit before you spring those on him."
Minutes pass in a silence broken only by wet sounds and Christian's sharp gasps.
"Damn, he looks good like that."
"Feels...even better...fuck...."
Jensen chuckles, moving to sprawl on the sofa beside Christian. "We'll get to that later," he murmurs, sinking fingers into dark hair, gently guiding Misha's movements as he leans over to catch Christian's lips. Christian leans into the kiss, groaning at the dual sensations of Jensen's lips and Misha's mouth, and he thinks he just might die before 'later' gets there.
Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Christian Kane/Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles
Rating: PG13
Summary: Holiday hijinks
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Notes: The 'thirteenth day of Christmas', and credit goes to wendyr for this one. It's a wee bit more than what she requested, but when the bunny bites, you go with the flow. *g*
"Hark, the herald angels sing...."
Christian stops in the doorway and takes in the scene in the living room. Jensen's comfortably settled in the recliner, one long leg slung over the arm, fingers curled in a loose grip around a bottle of beer. On the other side of the room, Misha is sprawled upside-down on the sofa with his head almost touching the floor.
And he's singing. Loud and off-key.
A sweet, heavy smell reaches Christian's nose, and he gives Jensen a flat look. "You started without me."
Jensen just smiles a tiny little half-smile and takes a swig of beer, his eyes never leaving Misha, who seems to have a problem remembering what lyrics come next. "It's his first time."
"No shit?" That puts a whole different spin on the plans for the evening. Christian grins as Misha convulses with giggles and rolls off the sofa. "How much?"
"Just one."
"And he's already this far gone?" Christian shakes his head and drops onto the sofa, bending to peer at Misha, who's trying to crawl under the coffee table. "Silly bastard, it's 'angels we have heard on high'," he says, "not 'angels we have heard are high'."
"Kane," Jensen groans, leaning forward to pass a fresh joint to Christian, "that's bad even for you."
"Should probably cut him off," Christian says, after lighting up and taking a long drag, letting the acrid smoke bite into his tongue and throat. "Otherwise, later on won't be much fun."
"Yeah, it will." Jensen smirks as he finishes his beer.
For a few minutes, Christian just sits there and watches Misha as he lays facedown on the floor, gripping the carpet like he's afraid he'll fall off or something. Then he sits back, smoke hazing his view of Jensen as Christian takes another hit off the joint. "Feel like we're taking advantage of him, won't it?"
Jensen snorts. "Not according to him."
"How so?" Christian passes the joint to Jensen, then looks back down at Misha, who is now on his back, blinking up at Christian. "No way in hell he knows what he's agreeing to now."
Slumped down in the chair, Jensen inhales and holds his breath for a few seconds. Laugh lines crinkle the corners of his eyes as he exhales with a grin. "He agreed before we lit up."
"Oh?" That changes everything. His interest piqued, Christian watches as Misha rolls to his hands and knees and starts a slow crawl towards the sofa and Christian.
"Mmhmm," Jensen murmurs, watching with clear interest, eyes going dark as Misha reaches Christian and pushes his knees apart. "Said he didn't care how fucked up he got, if he didn't get fucked -- by both of us -- we were dead men in the morning."
Christian looks down as nimble fingers fumble at his zipper. Blue eyes (just a ring of blue, really, around pupils so large Christian thinks he could fall into them) twinkle up at him, and Misha grins as he manages to drag Christian's zipper down and reach inside. "Pussying out on me?"
"Did he just...."
"Yeah, I think he did, Kane."
"Damn."
"Hard to call you a pussy if his mouth's busy doing other things."
"Good point. You still got those handcuffs?"
"Better let him sober up a bit before you spring those on him."
Minutes pass in a silence broken only by wet sounds and Christian's sharp gasps.
"Damn, he looks good like that."
"Feels...even better...fuck...."
Jensen chuckles, moving to sprawl on the sofa beside Christian. "We'll get to that later," he murmurs, sinking fingers into dark hair, gently guiding Misha's movements as he leans over to catch Christian's lips. Christian leans into the kiss, groaning at the dual sensations of Jensen's lips and Misha's mouth, and he thinks he just might die before 'later' gets there.