Love, Apparent 7/20
TITLE: Love Apparent 7/20
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17 for swearing, drug use, sexual situations, and underage drinking.
BETA'D: malbryn
A/N Jared started college in September. I know many colleges start in August, but for this to work, it had to happen in September. Go with it people.
Misha stumbles into his room exhausted, even for the early hour of the day. He hadn't realized when he wormed his way into the class that Social Theory Field Research would be so... well. Social. But it is, and Misha can only handle so much interaction with the collective public before he ends up arrested yet again.
Kicking his shoes off and dropping his bag on the floor, he dives onto the bed with a groan only to land on something decidedly more firm then his shitty dorm-mattress.
Jared.
“Oomph!” Jared groans as all the air is knocked out of his chest. Misha had thought that the pile of clothes usually inhabiting his bed beneath the blankets looked a little longer and less lumpy than usual, but he'd been far too tired to bother to care.
He's laying on Jared.
Laying on Jared.
On Jared.
Jared.
“What are you doing here?”
Jared blinks up at him sleepily. “Lost my keys,” he says and Misha bites back a wince. Jared didn't lose his keys. Misha stole them. Again. For like, the third time. He's really got to get a hold of himself. “Sorry,” he says suddenly, when Misha stays silent. “I'll just... I can go?”
“Of course not,” Misha rolls his eyes. Like he'd ever kick Jared out. “Just surprised me is all.”
He makes to push himself up off Jared, but Jared rolls, dropping Misha onto the mattress beside him without a word. They are very close. Too close, really. Misha is indescribably glad he had no clean boxers this morning and was forced to wear the ridiculous orange, bikini-cut banana hammock Mike bought him for his last birthday. They're too small and conveniently restricting.
Jared smiles at him, and snuffles into Misha's pillow. His hair is damp and he smells like Misha's blueberry-bubblegum-tear-free-two-in-one shampoo and conditioner combo, which can only mean that Jared used his shower. Jared was naked in his shower and is now covered in Misha's own personal scent.
“M'sleepin,” Jared murmurs, not bothered at all that he is in Misha's bed, with Misha. “Late night.”
“Oh!” Misha says, blinking. “How was the party.”
There is a pause, and Jared makes a face that Misha can only describe as too-fucking-adorable. “Weird,” Jared says a last. “Would have been better if you were there.” For some unknown reason, this brings Misha's favorite blush to Jared's face, staining his cheeks a violent pink. “S'fun though. Learned some things. I'm glad you convinced me to go. Still would have preferred I was here with you.”
Misha laughs, an awkward bubble of a giggle if he's to be honest. “Eh. Well, you're going home for Christmas, right? You better get used to Misha-less plans.”
Opening his eyes, Jared outright frowns. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going home?”
“My parents are in Africa,” Misha blinks at the confession. “They do a lot of charity stuff.” He's never told anyone that. He doesn't talk about his parents as a rule. Not that he doesn't like his parents; he just doesn't talk about them. It's not a thing. Really.
“You should come home with me then,” Jared nods, like Misha has already agreed to this ridiculous suggestion. “You can meet my parents. Let's take a nap. My flight’s on Monday, we can pack tomorrow.”
“Um,” Misha says, without his usual eloquence. He's in bed with Jared who just asked him to come home for Christmas. It's like a dream come true except that it totally isn't. Because Jared is straight and not naked and-still. “Okay.”
*
Misha is fucking anxious. Really, what had he been thinking when he agreed to come with Jared to Texas for Thanksgiving. The days between Friday and Monday had come and gone, and here he was now, climbing off a plane and taking his first step on Texas soil. Cement. Whatever.
It's strangely warm, compared to the bitter, snowy winds they'd left behind them. According to his phone it was a healthy 61 degrees, bright and sunny, with nothing but a cool breeze to bite at their heels. They've collected their luggage, Jared's bright red duffel bag and Misha's abused-but-trusty orange suit case.
“Oh! Hey, there's my parents!” Jared announces, using his gift of freakish high to his advantage, peering over the crowed.
Jared's parents are pretty much what Misha expects. Probably because he's seen them before, when Jared was registering. But that's not the point. They're all bright-eyed and smiling, rushing forward to meet their son. There's even an extra Misha hasn't met, who he assumes is Jared's little sister Megan. She's fifteen, from what Jared has told him, and the same height (if not taller) then Misha.
Jared's family is full of giants.
“Mom!” Jared says, boisterous in his excitement, scooping the lady in question up into a massive hug. His sister is treated with the same affection, and to Misha's surprise, his father is not left out. “Oh, hey. This is Misha Collins,” he adds, tugging Misha forward. It's awkward, but maybe only on Misha's half. The Padalecki's are all sporting a grin that to Misha previously belonged to Jared alone, bit and dimpled and entirely inviting. “Misha, this is Sharon, Gerry, and Megan.”
“Um,” Misha says, struggling with the urge to back away. “It's nice to meet you. Thanks for having me.”
Sharon nods enthusiastically, grabbing Misha's hands into her own and shaking them so hard he feels his teeth clatter. “Of course, of course! We're happy to have you, darlin'. We're just glad our baby is making friends.”
“Mom,” Jared hisses in absolute horror, and Misha feels a hell of a lot better for it.
“Don't blame mom because you're a loser,” the girl-Padalecki offers, rolling her hazel eyes. “Can we go? Mom made pie.”
“Mind your manners,” Gerry gruffs, giving Misha a once over with a stern eye. Whatever he sees must meet some level of approval because he grunts and nods, and jingles his keys. “Alright, let's get this ship to port, kids.”
Jared gives him an encouraging nod as they make their way to the car.
*
The Padalecki home is unlike anything he's ever seen. It's a farm. Which, he knew, but hadn't quite-there's fucking cows, okay? Cows. Like real black-and-white cows with udders full of milk. Misha likes milk. On a good day, he'd say he even loves it. But he does not want to see where his milk comes from. He's eyeing one of the udders, wincing every time it sways. His milk was in there. Well, maybe not there, but in another udder. And then there are the pigs. They're looking at him. Misha likes bacon (who the fuck doesn't?) but he doesn't like his bacon looking at him. “I think I was born to be a vegetarian,” he announces, remembering how the beady eyed bacon had snorted at him, blobs of mud bubbling at his nose, the piggly son-of-a-bitch bacon ruiner. “Seriously. I mean, I already do yoga and I love organic cotton pants. So really, it's not so much of a jump that I become vegetarian. In fact, I expect it's expected.”
Jared is looking at him with a wide, open-mouth smile. “Is it really freaking you out?” He asks, from opposite side of the counter. They're in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the big bay window. Everything is made of trees. Well, they're wood. Most wood things are made of trees, but everything here still kind of looks like a tree. The counter is solid oak, a grainy golden color with a whirl of dark brown knots and lines smoothed beneath the glossy shine. Even the floor is wood. God fucking forbid someone start a house fire.
With that thought in mind, Misha thinks he should probably leave the kitchen like... right about now.
“It's really freaking me out,” he admits. There's no shame in it, he tells himself. Then Jared plucks another feather out of the dead chicken laying on the counter and he fights back the vomit rising in his throat.
“City boy,” Jared says fondly, and Misha grunts at him indignantly. “If it really bothers you, I'll tell my mom to make some meatless stuff.”
Frowning, Misha sighs. “I don't... no. Don't do that. I don't want to be a burden, you know? It was really nice of them to let me come, and on such short notice.” He gives Jared a very pointed look. About ten minutes into the car ride from the airport to the house, Misha had been informed by a smug looking Megan that his parents hadn't, in fact, known that Misha was coming until Jared texted them from the luggage coral. In a fit of anxiety, he'd then proceeded to steal her cell-phone without her noticing. It had taken more skill then he'd like to admit he has, dropping it in her mother's purse. He'd let them sort that out later.
Misha is not a sane person.
They'd been at the farm for three days now. Jared's mother was a picture of all things maternal and warm and Misha adored her. She baked a lot and ruffled Misha's hair in the most horrifying manner, one of which Jared was not immune. She was honestly happy that Misha was Jared's friend. It was a novel experience, to say the least.
“Well,” Jared plucks another handful of feathers from the dead carcass, like it's nothing. That this is the same stammering frightened man-child Misha met three months ago baffles Misha. Misha cannot pluck a chicken. He cannot pluck an eyebrow, let alone a chicken. But here Jared is, tearing out pieces of a dead thing like it's no big deal. “There's usually other stuff around to eat. Are eggs okay?”
They're okay because Misha is going to make them be okay. He doesn't want Jared worrying about him. “Eggs are fine. Eggs are great. I love eggs.” Even if they are the unborn children of the very same decapitated chicken that Jared is currently de-feathering. It's fine. It's totally kosher. He can eat unborn babies. Really. He can.
He pockets a cork screw when Jared isn't looking, and pops an Ativan under his tongue. This is becoming a problem.
Laughing, Jared transfers the now naked, dead, headless chicken to the sink, rinsing it as he talks. “Don't worry Misha, I won't let you starve. Actually, if you want, we can go out for dinner tonight. We can grab a movie, maybe some pizza. I can show you around?”
It sounds suspiciously like a date but Misha knows better than to let that hope float, so he ruthlessly drowns it in a pool of his own manly tears and forces himself to smile and nod. “Sure. Sounds great.”
*
Caldwell is a very small town just outside of San Antonio. They go to a mom-and-pop pizza parlor where Jared is pulled into three separate hugs by walker-laden octogenarians. One of which was had no visible teeth and managed to crush Misha's foot in the process of groping Jared. For all that Jared is shy and reserved, he is apparently very well-liked by the elderly. Not that it surprises Misha of course. What isn't to love about Jared?
Jared is perfect.
This is where a dreamy sigh would be inserted, were Misha a total girl.
“What are you sighing about? Jared asks, giving him a confused smile and Misha trips in a pot hole.
Jared catches him before he face plants. “You're not really in your game here, huh?”
“What?” Misha asks, looking at where Jared's hand is still curled around his bicep. They’re on their way to what Jared has already assured him is a very tiny and pathetic cinema. One that compares to an Imax like a puppet show compares to a flat screen. It isn't promising, but Misha's not really here to watch movies.
“Here,” Jared repeated, releasing him. “You're usually a lot more... I don't know. Smooth. You're acting funny.”
“And you're acting... not,” Misha offers as a rebuttal, without really answering. “Seriously, you had me convinced you were some shut-in, raging geek who spent his time playing WoW in his mother’s basement while eating hot pockets. But everyone seems to know you around here.”
“Small town,” Jared replies easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't really popular, but I wasn't exactly unpopular. I was just kind of...”
“In the middle,” Misha offers, with a little smile. He knows Jared, probably better than anyone.
“No,” Jared says with shrug. “I was more on the outside, than anything else. But I liked it there. It wasn't so bad. I did have friends, you know? And girlfriends. And normal highschool problems. Like, up until my sophomore year in high school, I was extremely short. Hey! Don't laugh. I was.”
“You were never short,” Misha argues, with a snort. “I call bullshit.”
“I have pictorial evidence,” Jared assures him. “Seriously, I was short. But I shot up in the last two years or so. Probably why I'm a fucking bean pole.”
A smile twitches at his lip as Jared swears, easily as breathing. “Not so much a bean pole now,” Misha tells him, because it's true. Jared has filled out quite nicely. He steals a conversation-appropriate shoulder grope and grins.
Blushing, Jared shrugs. “Yes, well... Anyway, if you think I'm tall, you should see my brother. He's even taller.”
Taller? That's just unfair.
The watch Son In Law and Misha kind of wants to gag as he watches Pauly Shore ride a pig because... well. You should never put your junk near your bacon. It really should just be a rule of life. Jared scored free popcorn from the girl behind the counter, a junior in the high school Jared went to, who looks at him and blushes and smiles and stutters. Jared doesn't notice any of it because he's Jared and pretty much oblivious to every one's adoring, lusty stares.
Every. One.
“---I still say that Bio Dome was Pauly Shore's best movie,” Jared is arguing, gesturing wildly with his hands. God, but if Misha resents everyone's adoring, lusty stares, he totally understands them too. He can't deny the ridiculous grin on his face as he looks up at Jared, still prattling on. “Even if it did have the blond Baldwin one in it.”
“What?” Misha snaps back to the present. “That wasn't a Baldwin.”
“Yes it was. Stephen Baldwin,” Jared stops walking, and looks down at him. “It was totally a Baldwin.”
Misha frowns and blinks. “Wait, wasn't he in---”
“Jared?”
Jared's attention is stolen from Misha instantly. “Alexis?” Jared says back, eyes widening as his brow's crawl so far up his giant forehead they get lost in his hair. Following his line of sight, Misha looks at the girl before him. He knows who Alexis is, of course. This is the girl Jared lost his V-Card to. This is Jared's one sexual experience, save for Sandy, who according to Jared, never went anywhere no matter what it looked like. This is Alexis, with bright blue eyes, white teeth, and dark hair.
Misha hates her on sight.
“Jared,” she says a little softer, her hand dropping to her rounded belly. “It's...it's really good to see you.”
Jared blinks at her, color draining from his face as he stares at her pregnant belly. “How... um. How far? Oh fucking God.”
“...Four months,” she says with a tight smile and Jared goes down like a ton of bricks, out cold for all the world to see.
Misha fucking hates her.
When Alexis had first suggested they have sex, Jared has turned her down. It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex; of course he did. He was an ordinary teenage male, with an ordinary teenage libido, and he thought about sex often and in great detail. But for all that he wanted it, he honestly didn't think it would be right. Alexis and he had only been dating a month. He knew that other people his age (he refused to call himself a kid) were having sex. Jared hadn't even fooled around. He'd dated yes, and kissed and... rubbed, he supposed, would be the word. But it had never come to this.
Alexis wanted to have sex.
Jared said no.
He kept saying no, and Alexis kept pushing. And then somehow they ended up in the backseat of his mom's car, pants around his ankles, and skirt shoved up around her hips, her body grinding down on his. They hadn't even taken her panties off, and Jared was ready to call it quits. It began with rubbing, a level of dry-humping Jared could probably handle. It felt good, he guessed, pressed up against the slick heat of her body, through that thin layer of Haynes cotton. And then, at the first site of his arousal, she'd slipped right down his body, knee's straddling his legs on the narrow bench seat. He had no idea how it had gotten this far. Okay, okay, that was a huge lie. The second Alexis had gotten her mouth around his dick he'd thrown all reason out the window. And then, when he'd finally let himself get into it, she'd pounced on his moment of weakness and all but mounted him like a freaking horse.
She'd had a condom, which struck him as extremely presumptuous especially for all that he'd been telling her no. Not that he was saying no now. But really, he would have been happier with the blow job. The second her mouth had left his member, and he'd realized what she was about, he'd practically lost all erection he had.
And the thing was... he hadn't liked it. He'd only ever told Mike that, and he hadn't even spilled the whole secret. He'd wanted it over with, he'd told Mike, but he hadn't told him how he ended it. He'd faked it. Faked an orgasm in desperation to just be done. But the damage was done apparently, and really, Jared knew the statistics. There was just as many viable...sperm, in precome as there was in ejaculate, and well, Alexis had been rubbing herself all up and down his dick like a cat in heat, and panties weren't an FDA approved method of protection. He'd knocked her up and he hadn't even gotten to come.
It all kind of hit him, then.
This can't be happening. This isn't happening. It's not possible. It's not real. This can't be happening. Oh shit. How is this happening!?
“Jared,” Misha's voice is soft beside him. Somehow, Misha managed to get them back to the house. He has no idea what Misha said to Alexis, or how Misha got Jared into the car, into the house, and into the room. He's in shock, or something. He has no idea. He can't move. Or breathe. Or talk. He can barely think. Other than...
This can't be fucking happening.
“Jared,” Misha says, smacking him hard across the face. He sucks in a sharp breath and blinks so many times the world wavers a little.
“Misha,” he breathes, hands flying out to grab his friend’s shoulders, pulling him close. Jared's a hugger, he always has been. “This... this can't... oh my God.”
“Hey, hey,” Misha hushes him. “It's going to be okay. We're going to figure it out.”
“I got her... her....” he can't say it out loud. He can't. If he does, it might be real and he can't handle that, he really can't. “Oh god. What's going to happen? I can't have a baby. I'm not ready for a baby. I can barely manage to take care of myself! I can't take care of... of... anything! I'm going to have to drop out of college and come back here and get a job. I don't want to drop out of college, Misha. I can't. I... they can't make me. I can't do this. This can't be happening.”
“Jared!” Misha says roughly. “It's okay. Listen to me. It's alright, right now? Right now it's okay. You don't know her plans. What if she wants to give the baby up for adoption?”
That pulls Jared up short. He sucks in another breath and drops his head in his hands. “It's... it's not done. Not in towns like this. And even if it was, I don't think I could do that, you know? That... baby is mine, and I...well. I made it. I made it and I'm going to take care of it.”
“Alright,” Misha says, but it looks like it pains him and Jared doesn't really understand. He's glad Misha's here though. He needs that calm, that zen that Misha just seems to breath. “Look. She's four months along? People are pregnant for forty weeks. That's ten months. So she's got six more months. That's right around summer break. You can come back for the... birth. And maybe you can sign up for classes here. You don't have to quit college because of this.”
“I don't want to move back here,” Jared says in a rush of breath. Coming back here means leaving Misha and he can't do that. He can't. He just can't. Misha means too much to him. More than Alexis. More than... god, does it make him a bad person? More than the baby, even, maybe. But the baby isn't real to him yet, so that could change. And if it does, he doubts highly that Misha will mean any less to him. He can't. He… he loves Misha.
This is a bad time for that kind of revelation.
“Maybe she'll come with you,” Misha suggests. “She doesn't seem like the kind of girl who wants to be stuck here. College might take you longer, but...well. Don't just give up. Make it work.”
“I don't want her to come with me,” Jared says, leaning into Misha now, till he can lay his head on Misha's shoulder. “I don't want her, Misha. At all. God...what if they make me marry her? I can't marry her. Please, please, don't let them make me marry her.”
“They won't,” Misha breaths, but Jared knows better. Misha doesn't know small towns like Jared does. Misha has no idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT....
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17 for swearing, drug use, sexual situations, and underage drinking.
BETA'D: malbryn
A/N Jared started college in September. I know many colleges start in August, but for this to work, it had to happen in September. Go with it people.
Misha stumbles into his room exhausted, even for the early hour of the day. He hadn't realized when he wormed his way into the class that Social Theory Field Research would be so... well. Social. But it is, and Misha can only handle so much interaction with the collective public before he ends up arrested yet again.
Kicking his shoes off and dropping his bag on the floor, he dives onto the bed with a groan only to land on something decidedly more firm then his shitty dorm-mattress.
Jared.
“Oomph!” Jared groans as all the air is knocked out of his chest. Misha had thought that the pile of clothes usually inhabiting his bed beneath the blankets looked a little longer and less lumpy than usual, but he'd been far too tired to bother to care.
He's laying on Jared.
Laying on Jared.
On Jared.
Jared.
“What are you doing here?”
Jared blinks up at him sleepily. “Lost my keys,” he says and Misha bites back a wince. Jared didn't lose his keys. Misha stole them. Again. For like, the third time. He's really got to get a hold of himself. “Sorry,” he says suddenly, when Misha stays silent. “I'll just... I can go?”
“Of course not,” Misha rolls his eyes. Like he'd ever kick Jared out. “Just surprised me is all.”
He makes to push himself up off Jared, but Jared rolls, dropping Misha onto the mattress beside him without a word. They are very close. Too close, really. Misha is indescribably glad he had no clean boxers this morning and was forced to wear the ridiculous orange, bikini-cut banana hammock Mike bought him for his last birthday. They're too small and conveniently restricting.
Jared smiles at him, and snuffles into Misha's pillow. His hair is damp and he smells like Misha's blueberry-bubblegum-tear-free-two-in-one shampoo and conditioner combo, which can only mean that Jared used his shower. Jared was naked in his shower and is now covered in Misha's own personal scent.
“M'sleepin,” Jared murmurs, not bothered at all that he is in Misha's bed, with Misha. “Late night.”
“Oh!” Misha says, blinking. “How was the party.”
There is a pause, and Jared makes a face that Misha can only describe as too-fucking-adorable. “Weird,” Jared says a last. “Would have been better if you were there.” For some unknown reason, this brings Misha's favorite blush to Jared's face, staining his cheeks a violent pink. “S'fun though. Learned some things. I'm glad you convinced me to go. Still would have preferred I was here with you.”
Misha laughs, an awkward bubble of a giggle if he's to be honest. “Eh. Well, you're going home for Christmas, right? You better get used to Misha-less plans.”
Opening his eyes, Jared outright frowns. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going home?”
“My parents are in Africa,” Misha blinks at the confession. “They do a lot of charity stuff.” He's never told anyone that. He doesn't talk about his parents as a rule. Not that he doesn't like his parents; he just doesn't talk about them. It's not a thing. Really.
“You should come home with me then,” Jared nods, like Misha has already agreed to this ridiculous suggestion. “You can meet my parents. Let's take a nap. My flight’s on Monday, we can pack tomorrow.”
“Um,” Misha says, without his usual eloquence. He's in bed with Jared who just asked him to come home for Christmas. It's like a dream come true except that it totally isn't. Because Jared is straight and not naked and-still. “Okay.”
*
Misha is fucking anxious. Really, what had he been thinking when he agreed to come with Jared to Texas for Thanksgiving. The days between Friday and Monday had come and gone, and here he was now, climbing off a plane and taking his first step on Texas soil. Cement. Whatever.
It's strangely warm, compared to the bitter, snowy winds they'd left behind them. According to his phone it was a healthy 61 degrees, bright and sunny, with nothing but a cool breeze to bite at their heels. They've collected their luggage, Jared's bright red duffel bag and Misha's abused-but-trusty orange suit case.
“Oh! Hey, there's my parents!” Jared announces, using his gift of freakish high to his advantage, peering over the crowed.
Jared's parents are pretty much what Misha expects. Probably because he's seen them before, when Jared was registering. But that's not the point. They're all bright-eyed and smiling, rushing forward to meet their son. There's even an extra Misha hasn't met, who he assumes is Jared's little sister Megan. She's fifteen, from what Jared has told him, and the same height (if not taller) then Misha.
Jared's family is full of giants.
“Mom!” Jared says, boisterous in his excitement, scooping the lady in question up into a massive hug. His sister is treated with the same affection, and to Misha's surprise, his father is not left out. “Oh, hey. This is Misha Collins,” he adds, tugging Misha forward. It's awkward, but maybe only on Misha's half. The Padalecki's are all sporting a grin that to Misha previously belonged to Jared alone, bit and dimpled and entirely inviting. “Misha, this is Sharon, Gerry, and Megan.”
“Um,” Misha says, struggling with the urge to back away. “It's nice to meet you. Thanks for having me.”
Sharon nods enthusiastically, grabbing Misha's hands into her own and shaking them so hard he feels his teeth clatter. “Of course, of course! We're happy to have you, darlin'. We're just glad our baby is making friends.”
“Mom,” Jared hisses in absolute horror, and Misha feels a hell of a lot better for it.
“Don't blame mom because you're a loser,” the girl-Padalecki offers, rolling her hazel eyes. “Can we go? Mom made pie.”
“Mind your manners,” Gerry gruffs, giving Misha a once over with a stern eye. Whatever he sees must meet some level of approval because he grunts and nods, and jingles his keys. “Alright, let's get this ship to port, kids.”
Jared gives him an encouraging nod as they make their way to the car.
*
The Padalecki home is unlike anything he's ever seen. It's a farm. Which, he knew, but hadn't quite-there's fucking cows, okay? Cows. Like real black-and-white cows with udders full of milk. Misha likes milk. On a good day, he'd say he even loves it. But he does not want to see where his milk comes from. He's eyeing one of the udders, wincing every time it sways. His milk was in there. Well, maybe not there, but in another udder. And then there are the pigs. They're looking at him. Misha likes bacon (who the fuck doesn't?) but he doesn't like his bacon looking at him. “I think I was born to be a vegetarian,” he announces, remembering how the beady eyed bacon had snorted at him, blobs of mud bubbling at his nose, the piggly son-of-a-bitch bacon ruiner. “Seriously. I mean, I already do yoga and I love organic cotton pants. So really, it's not so much of a jump that I become vegetarian. In fact, I expect it's expected.”
Jared is looking at him with a wide, open-mouth smile. “Is it really freaking you out?” He asks, from opposite side of the counter. They're in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the big bay window. Everything is made of trees. Well, they're wood. Most wood things are made of trees, but everything here still kind of looks like a tree. The counter is solid oak, a grainy golden color with a whirl of dark brown knots and lines smoothed beneath the glossy shine. Even the floor is wood. God fucking forbid someone start a house fire.
With that thought in mind, Misha thinks he should probably leave the kitchen like... right about now.
“It's really freaking me out,” he admits. There's no shame in it, he tells himself. Then Jared plucks another feather out of the dead chicken laying on the counter and he fights back the vomit rising in his throat.
“City boy,” Jared says fondly, and Misha grunts at him indignantly. “If it really bothers you, I'll tell my mom to make some meatless stuff.”
Frowning, Misha sighs. “I don't... no. Don't do that. I don't want to be a burden, you know? It was really nice of them to let me come, and on such short notice.” He gives Jared a very pointed look. About ten minutes into the car ride from the airport to the house, Misha had been informed by a smug looking Megan that his parents hadn't, in fact, known that Misha was coming until Jared texted them from the luggage coral. In a fit of anxiety, he'd then proceeded to steal her cell-phone without her noticing. It had taken more skill then he'd like to admit he has, dropping it in her mother's purse. He'd let them sort that out later.
Misha is not a sane person.
They'd been at the farm for three days now. Jared's mother was a picture of all things maternal and warm and Misha adored her. She baked a lot and ruffled Misha's hair in the most horrifying manner, one of which Jared was not immune. She was honestly happy that Misha was Jared's friend. It was a novel experience, to say the least.
“Well,” Jared plucks another handful of feathers from the dead carcass, like it's nothing. That this is the same stammering frightened man-child Misha met three months ago baffles Misha. Misha cannot pluck a chicken. He cannot pluck an eyebrow, let alone a chicken. But here Jared is, tearing out pieces of a dead thing like it's no big deal. “There's usually other stuff around to eat. Are eggs okay?”
They're okay because Misha is going to make them be okay. He doesn't want Jared worrying about him. “Eggs are fine. Eggs are great. I love eggs.” Even if they are the unborn children of the very same decapitated chicken that Jared is currently de-feathering. It's fine. It's totally kosher. He can eat unborn babies. Really. He can.
He pockets a cork screw when Jared isn't looking, and pops an Ativan under his tongue. This is becoming a problem.
Laughing, Jared transfers the now naked, dead, headless chicken to the sink, rinsing it as he talks. “Don't worry Misha, I won't let you starve. Actually, if you want, we can go out for dinner tonight. We can grab a movie, maybe some pizza. I can show you around?”
It sounds suspiciously like a date but Misha knows better than to let that hope float, so he ruthlessly drowns it in a pool of his own manly tears and forces himself to smile and nod. “Sure. Sounds great.”
*
Caldwell is a very small town just outside of San Antonio. They go to a mom-and-pop pizza parlor where Jared is pulled into three separate hugs by walker-laden octogenarians. One of which was had no visible teeth and managed to crush Misha's foot in the process of groping Jared. For all that Jared is shy and reserved, he is apparently very well-liked by the elderly. Not that it surprises Misha of course. What isn't to love about Jared?
Jared is perfect.
This is where a dreamy sigh would be inserted, were Misha a total girl.
“What are you sighing about? Jared asks, giving him a confused smile and Misha trips in a pot hole.
Jared catches him before he face plants. “You're not really in your game here, huh?”
“What?” Misha asks, looking at where Jared's hand is still curled around his bicep. They’re on their way to what Jared has already assured him is a very tiny and pathetic cinema. One that compares to an Imax like a puppet show compares to a flat screen. It isn't promising, but Misha's not really here to watch movies.
“Here,” Jared repeated, releasing him. “You're usually a lot more... I don't know. Smooth. You're acting funny.”
“And you're acting... not,” Misha offers as a rebuttal, without really answering. “Seriously, you had me convinced you were some shut-in, raging geek who spent his time playing WoW in his mother’s basement while eating hot pockets. But everyone seems to know you around here.”
“Small town,” Jared replies easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't really popular, but I wasn't exactly unpopular. I was just kind of...”
“In the middle,” Misha offers, with a little smile. He knows Jared, probably better than anyone.
“No,” Jared says with shrug. “I was more on the outside, than anything else. But I liked it there. It wasn't so bad. I did have friends, you know? And girlfriends. And normal highschool problems. Like, up until my sophomore year in high school, I was extremely short. Hey! Don't laugh. I was.”
“You were never short,” Misha argues, with a snort. “I call bullshit.”
“I have pictorial evidence,” Jared assures him. “Seriously, I was short. But I shot up in the last two years or so. Probably why I'm a fucking bean pole.”
A smile twitches at his lip as Jared swears, easily as breathing. “Not so much a bean pole now,” Misha tells him, because it's true. Jared has filled out quite nicely. He steals a conversation-appropriate shoulder grope and grins.
Blushing, Jared shrugs. “Yes, well... Anyway, if you think I'm tall, you should see my brother. He's even taller.”
Taller? That's just unfair.
The watch Son In Law and Misha kind of wants to gag as he watches Pauly Shore ride a pig because... well. You should never put your junk near your bacon. It really should just be a rule of life. Jared scored free popcorn from the girl behind the counter, a junior in the high school Jared went to, who looks at him and blushes and smiles and stutters. Jared doesn't notice any of it because he's Jared and pretty much oblivious to every one's adoring, lusty stares.
Every. One.
“---I still say that Bio Dome was Pauly Shore's best movie,” Jared is arguing, gesturing wildly with his hands. God, but if Misha resents everyone's adoring, lusty stares, he totally understands them too. He can't deny the ridiculous grin on his face as he looks up at Jared, still prattling on. “Even if it did have the blond Baldwin one in it.”
“What?” Misha snaps back to the present. “That wasn't a Baldwin.”
“Yes it was. Stephen Baldwin,” Jared stops walking, and looks down at him. “It was totally a Baldwin.”
Misha frowns and blinks. “Wait, wasn't he in---”
“Jared?”
Jared's attention is stolen from Misha instantly. “Alexis?” Jared says back, eyes widening as his brow's crawl so far up his giant forehead they get lost in his hair. Following his line of sight, Misha looks at the girl before him. He knows who Alexis is, of course. This is the girl Jared lost his V-Card to. This is Jared's one sexual experience, save for Sandy, who according to Jared, never went anywhere no matter what it looked like. This is Alexis, with bright blue eyes, white teeth, and dark hair.
Misha hates her on sight.
“Jared,” she says a little softer, her hand dropping to her rounded belly. “It's...it's really good to see you.”
Jared blinks at her, color draining from his face as he stares at her pregnant belly. “How... um. How far? Oh fucking God.”
“...Four months,” she says with a tight smile and Jared goes down like a ton of bricks, out cold for all the world to see.
Misha fucking hates her.
When Alexis had first suggested they have sex, Jared has turned her down. It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex; of course he did. He was an ordinary teenage male, with an ordinary teenage libido, and he thought about sex often and in great detail. But for all that he wanted it, he honestly didn't think it would be right. Alexis and he had only been dating a month. He knew that other people his age (he refused to call himself a kid) were having sex. Jared hadn't even fooled around. He'd dated yes, and kissed and... rubbed, he supposed, would be the word. But it had never come to this.
Alexis wanted to have sex.
Jared said no.
He kept saying no, and Alexis kept pushing. And then somehow they ended up in the backseat of his mom's car, pants around his ankles, and skirt shoved up around her hips, her body grinding down on his. They hadn't even taken her panties off, and Jared was ready to call it quits. It began with rubbing, a level of dry-humping Jared could probably handle. It felt good, he guessed, pressed up against the slick heat of her body, through that thin layer of Haynes cotton. And then, at the first site of his arousal, she'd slipped right down his body, knee's straddling his legs on the narrow bench seat. He had no idea how it had gotten this far. Okay, okay, that was a huge lie. The second Alexis had gotten her mouth around his dick he'd thrown all reason out the window. And then, when he'd finally let himself get into it, she'd pounced on his moment of weakness and all but mounted him like a freaking horse.
She'd had a condom, which struck him as extremely presumptuous especially for all that he'd been telling her no. Not that he was saying no now. But really, he would have been happier with the blow job. The second her mouth had left his member, and he'd realized what she was about, he'd practically lost all erection he had.
And the thing was... he hadn't liked it. He'd only ever told Mike that, and he hadn't even spilled the whole secret. He'd wanted it over with, he'd told Mike, but he hadn't told him how he ended it. He'd faked it. Faked an orgasm in desperation to just be done. But the damage was done apparently, and really, Jared knew the statistics. There was just as many viable...sperm, in precome as there was in ejaculate, and well, Alexis had been rubbing herself all up and down his dick like a cat in heat, and panties weren't an FDA approved method of protection. He'd knocked her up and he hadn't even gotten to come.
It all kind of hit him, then.
This can't be happening. This isn't happening. It's not possible. It's not real. This can't be happening. Oh shit. How is this happening!?
“Jared,” Misha's voice is soft beside him. Somehow, Misha managed to get them back to the house. He has no idea what Misha said to Alexis, or how Misha got Jared into the car, into the house, and into the room. He's in shock, or something. He has no idea. He can't move. Or breathe. Or talk. He can barely think. Other than...
This can't be fucking happening.
“Jared,” Misha says, smacking him hard across the face. He sucks in a sharp breath and blinks so many times the world wavers a little.
“Misha,” he breathes, hands flying out to grab his friend’s shoulders, pulling him close. Jared's a hugger, he always has been. “This... this can't... oh my God.”
“Hey, hey,” Misha hushes him. “It's going to be okay. We're going to figure it out.”
“I got her... her....” he can't say it out loud. He can't. If he does, it might be real and he can't handle that, he really can't. “Oh god. What's going to happen? I can't have a baby. I'm not ready for a baby. I can barely manage to take care of myself! I can't take care of... of... anything! I'm going to have to drop out of college and come back here and get a job. I don't want to drop out of college, Misha. I can't. I... they can't make me. I can't do this. This can't be happening.”
“Jared!” Misha says roughly. “It's okay. Listen to me. It's alright, right now? Right now it's okay. You don't know her plans. What if she wants to give the baby up for adoption?”
That pulls Jared up short. He sucks in another breath and drops his head in his hands. “It's... it's not done. Not in towns like this. And even if it was, I don't think I could do that, you know? That... baby is mine, and I...well. I made it. I made it and I'm going to take care of it.”
“Alright,” Misha says, but it looks like it pains him and Jared doesn't really understand. He's glad Misha's here though. He needs that calm, that zen that Misha just seems to breath. “Look. She's four months along? People are pregnant for forty weeks. That's ten months. So she's got six more months. That's right around summer break. You can come back for the... birth. And maybe you can sign up for classes here. You don't have to quit college because of this.”
“I don't want to move back here,” Jared says in a rush of breath. Coming back here means leaving Misha and he can't do that. He can't. He just can't. Misha means too much to him. More than Alexis. More than... god, does it make him a bad person? More than the baby, even, maybe. But the baby isn't real to him yet, so that could change. And if it does, he doubts highly that Misha will mean any less to him. He can't. He… he loves Misha.
This is a bad time for that kind of revelation.
“Maybe she'll come with you,” Misha suggests. “She doesn't seem like the kind of girl who wants to be stuck here. College might take you longer, but...well. Don't just give up. Make it work.”
“I don't want her to come with me,” Jared says, leaning into Misha now, till he can lay his head on Misha's shoulder. “I don't want her, Misha. At all. God...what if they make me marry her? I can't marry her. Please, please, don't let them make me marry her.”
“They won't,” Misha breaths, but Jared knows better. Misha doesn't know small towns like Jared does. Misha has no idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT....