Fic: All Wrapped Up, SPN RPS, Jensen/Misha
Title: All Wrapped Up
Author: Claire
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 373
Summary: In which Jensen is creeping through the dark with Misha...
Notes: Written for qthelights's request on my drabble-type things post.
It's going great until Jensen trips over a box someone's left lying on set. "Shit, fuck--" he hisses, his grip tightening on Misha's hand and almost yanking him to the floor until Misha pulls him back up again.
"So much for stealthy," Misha comments, the whisper still loud on the empty set.
"Oh, fuck you, Collins." Jensen knows the retort is childish, just as childish as giving in to the urge to kick the box that had nearly sent him flying, but he doesn't care. His foot's hurting (what the fuck's in that box, anyway) and he's creeping around the set when he should be at the wrap party getting slammed on the free tequila Kripke managed to con out of the CW.
He's about to tell Misha that they're going back right the fuck now when Misha's there, blue eyes still bright, even in the low lighting illuminating them. "That's the point, yes," Misha says, so close to Jensen's face that his breath, soft and sweet and probably flammable considering how much whiskey Jensen saw him down before Misha dragged him here, is ghosting across his lips.
"You said you wanted this," Misha continues, one hand on Jensen's chest and either unaware or uncaring of how the touch is making Jensen's cock sit up and beg. "Kripke should end the show with Dean fucking Cas in the back of the Impala, that's what you said. So--"
And maybe Jensen's had a little too much to drink himself because it takes him long seconds to understand exactly what Misha's saying. Long seconds to understand that Misha telling Jensen he'd managed to palm the set keys off Dave and then dragging him out of the wrap party has been leading to them naked in the back of one of the Impalas. But now he does, now he gets exactly what they're doing here, then he's all fucking for it. Because even if he got Misha naked every fucking day it still wouldn't be enough.
"Come on, then--" Jensen wraps his fingers around Misha's wrist and tugs, pulse beating against his thumb as Misha laughs and follows Jensen to the car waiting on the other side of the set.
Author: Claire
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 373
Summary: In which Jensen is creeping through the dark with Misha...
Notes: Written for qthelights's request on my drabble-type things post.
It's going great until Jensen trips over a box someone's left lying on set. "Shit, fuck--" he hisses, his grip tightening on Misha's hand and almost yanking him to the floor until Misha pulls him back up again.
"So much for stealthy," Misha comments, the whisper still loud on the empty set.
"Oh, fuck you, Collins." Jensen knows the retort is childish, just as childish as giving in to the urge to kick the box that had nearly sent him flying, but he doesn't care. His foot's hurting (what the fuck's in that box, anyway) and he's creeping around the set when he should be at the wrap party getting slammed on the free tequila Kripke managed to con out of the CW.
He's about to tell Misha that they're going back right the fuck now when Misha's there, blue eyes still bright, even in the low lighting illuminating them. "That's the point, yes," Misha says, so close to Jensen's face that his breath, soft and sweet and probably flammable considering how much whiskey Jensen saw him down before Misha dragged him here, is ghosting across his lips.
"You said you wanted this," Misha continues, one hand on Jensen's chest and either unaware or uncaring of how the touch is making Jensen's cock sit up and beg. "Kripke should end the show with Dean fucking Cas in the back of the Impala, that's what you said. So--"
And maybe Jensen's had a little too much to drink himself because it takes him long seconds to understand exactly what Misha's saying. Long seconds to understand that Misha telling Jensen he'd managed to palm the set keys off Dave and then dragging him out of the wrap party has been leading to them naked in the back of one of the Impalas. But now he does, now he gets exactly what they're doing here, then he's all fucking for it. Because even if he got Misha naked every fucking day it still wouldn't be enough.
"Come on, then--" Jensen wraps his fingers around Misha's wrist and tugs, pulse beating against his thumb as Misha laughs and follows Jensen to the car waiting on the other side of the set.