fic: shattered
Title: shattered
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Jared/Misha
Word Count: ~2000
Rating: pg
Heads-up: Schmoop
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Written for a prompt over at spnkink_meme from way back in May. Better late than never? Un-beta'd, and I had no idea it would turn this cute on me.
The prompt: Jared jumps Misha and pins him down while he tickles him. Misha's had a rough day, he's sore from the set and not amused. Jared doesn't realise until he accidentally hurts him and then has to make it up to him. H/C snuggles ensue.
Jared’s bored, foot jittering against the floor as he waits for Misha to hurry up and get back to the trailer. He’s busy poking around the bedroom when he hears the trailer door open, slam shut and then the familiar sound of the of lock clicking in to place.
He creeps out to the front room, finally spotting Misha in the kitchenette, braced against the counter with his head down and fingers gripping the edges.
Jared does his best to sneak over, managing to creep up without Misha noticing. He slides his hands up Misha’s sides, whispering “Boo” as he presses against him.
Misha jumps a fucking mile, twisting in Jared’s grasp, and Jared can hear the heavy thunk when Misha’s elbow hits the counter. Misha spasms against him, the gesture egging Jared on, his fingers digging into Misha’s side, the spots Jared’s teased him before with successful results.
This time though, Misha’s grabbing at him, pulling on his shirt until Jared pauses to look at him.
“Jesus, Jared, stop,” Misha snaps out, trying his best to pull away, but pinned in place by Jared's arms. “Not in the fucking mood.”
Jared’s never seen Misha like this, distant, maybe, or sometimes distracted by other things, but never harsh, never short or biting. He pulls back, pulling his arms back to cross them while his gaze remains focused on Misha.
“What’s up?” Jared keeps his voice soft, wanting to calm Misha down more than anything. Misha's hackles are up, the way he’s stalking away from Jared, spacing the two of them out. Misha finally settles in front of the couch, eyeing Jared before sitting down, curled up tight in one corner.
“Hurts.”
Misha sounds so broken, so small, that Jared wants to laugh. He doesn’t though, instead grabbing a pair of glasses from the cupboard. He snags the bottle of liquor next before heading over to sit down at the other end of the couch.
“You had that fight scene today, right?” Jared sets the glasses down, pouring them both what his dad would call a healthy amount. It’s a night shoot tomorrow, so it’s not like either of them have any need to wake up early.
Misha nods, stretching out to grab a glass. He takes a long sip before glancing over at Jared. “That new guy, the temp? Doesn’t pull his punches the same way everyone else does.”
Jared just watches him, prompting Misha to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it upwards, exposing an already purpling area on his ribs.
“Jesus...” Jared murmurs, eyes widening at the bruising, which is easily as large as his hand when he spreads his fingers out. “When was this again?”
“Earlier today. Maybe seven hours ago?”
“And you’ve been working like this since then?” Jared’s voice is incredulous. “No wonder you practically slugged me.” He stares at Misha’s skin for a moment longer. “You sure there’s nothing broken?”
“Pretty sure.”
“You’re killing me here, you realize?” Misha smiles then, the first real one Jared’s seen on him all day. “Come on, let’s get you into bed. You really need your beauty sleep now.”
Misha sticks his tongue out at that, which Jared takes as a good sign. He stands, grabbing his glass in one hand before offering Misha his other arm.
It’s a short stagger to the bedroom, Misha leaning heavily on Jared, as Jared staggers along, trying to avoid elbowing Misha’s bruised ribs.
“And you're sure they’re not broken or anything?” Jared asks as Misha sits down on the bed, huffing out a breath. Misha just stares up at him, eyes wide and blue and fuck, Jared’s screwed. “What do you need?”
“M’peejays.” Misha’s mumbling, head dropping down and tucked against his chest. “Over there.” He gestures towards one of the drawers in the closet.
Jared walks over, opening up the drawers until he finds the one holding old t-shirts and loose cotton pants. He picks a light blue pair, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that tells him that it's because the fabric matches Misha’s eyes.
He returns to the bed, dropping to his knees in front of Misha. “You good with this?” He asks, holding up the clothing. Misha nods, and Jared tried not to think of what exactly Misha's agreeing to.
Jared waits, expecting Misha to shuck off his jeans and get dressed, but nothing happens. Misha stays still, glazed over except for how his eyes are tracking Jared’s every breath.
“Need help?” Jared finally offers, breaking the silence. Misha nods, once, and Jared huffs out a sigh before tentatively reaching for Misha's belt. “Just, let me know, okay?” Misha nods again, and Jared’s fingers start to fumble with the buckle, the sharp metallic sound loud in the room.
Jared gets it undone, and finally looks back up into Misha’s eyes. “Gotta lift up,” he manages to croak out. Misha complies, wincing as he lifts himself up, hips raising far enough off the bed for Jared to curl his fingers around the waistband of Misha’s jeans and tug.
The denim slides down Misha’s thighs, and Jared pauses to untangle the fabric from Misha’s ankles. He leans closer as he does so, can feel the heat from Misha’s skin, and Jared lets his head rest against Misha’s knee.
He doesn't really hear Misha groan as feel it reverberate through his skin, a heavy hum that has Jared twisting his head to press a kiss on the soft skin of Misha’s thigh. “What else do you want me to do?” He murmurs, licking his lips, tongue catching on Misha’s skin.
Misha just whimpers this time, and Jared takes pity on him, standing up in front of him. “Lift your arms up, as much as you can.” Jared grasps the hem of Misha’s shirt, waiting until Misha’s finished moving. “Tell me when”
Jared starts to roll up the fabric, slowly working the t-shirt over and off one of Misha’s arms. He can see where the impact had happened, the skin already a deeper purple than the surrounding area. The bruise was larger than Jared had been able to tell in the other room. It reached around Misha’s side to brush against his backbone, and Jared wants to punch the guy who did this.
“I’m fine,” Misha murmurs, letting his head tip to the side to rest against Jared. “It's not like I held back either.”
Jared pauses, letting his fingers graze over the skin and he tries not to move when Misha flinches. He’s seen Misha in a fight scene before, knows that that’s the truth; that Misha’s willing to give everything he’s got and more.
“Still doesn’t mean you weren’t stupid.”
“Yeah.” Misha suddenly becomes heavier against Jared, and Jared’s aware of how late it is.
“Come on, let's finish this up.” Jared keeps a gentle pressure on Misha’s shirt, inching it off until Misha’s finally stripped down in front of him, clad only in his boxers. Jared kneels back in front of Misha, reaching to bring the pajamas down to the floor with him.
Jared pools Misha’s pajama pants on the carpet, then tips his head towards Misha. Misha stands, hand braced against Jared’s shoulder as he lifts himself up and steps into the pajamas. Jared pulls them up, slowly, letting his fingers drag against Misha’s skin, roughened fingertips catching on the fine hairs.
“Jared,” Misha murmurs, and for a moment Jared thinks he’s imagining things. But Misha’s fingers are suddenly carding through his hair, and Jared leans into it, eyes closing at the touch.
Jared’s still not sure what’s happening, as he had thought Misha and Jensen had something going on. He had brought it up casually one day and Jensen had shook his head at the implications. That conversation flits through Jared’s head as he starts to stand, mouth dragging along Misha’s stomach, the smooth curve of Misha’s abs and Jared wills himself not to think anymore, to just accept that what happens happens, and that’s it.
Jared gasps out a breath when he feels Misha's hand cup his jaw, and he risks a glance upward to Misha’s gaze. He’s smiling down at Jared, eyes fucking twinkling. “I’m not gonna break, you know,” Misha murmurs out, hand slipping down to tug on Jared’s shoulder.
Jared gets up off his knees, towering over Misha when he leans over him. Jared lets his fingers curl in Misha’s hair, pulling his head back to expose the line of his throat
“I know...” Jared starts, pressing a kiss to Misha’s collarbone. He licks a line up Misha’s neck, the slow drag of his tongue pulling a moan from Misha’s throat. “Still need to get you into bed though.”
Misha huffs out an exasperated sigh, fingers grasping Jared's shirt and tugging him closer. “Lots of things can happen in bed,” he murmurs, and Jared can hear the sweet slur of alcohol in Misha’s words.
“Not when you’re damaged the way you are,” Jared counters, passing his hand over Misha’s side. Misha winces, an involuntary shudder running through his body. Jared just looks at him, and Misha slumps under his gaze.
“Fine.” Misha sounds like a petulant five year old, and Jared grins at the look on Misha's face.
“I’ll make it up to you when you aren’t bruised and broken, kay?”
"Thank god Cas isn't kicking ass like he used to," Misha mutters, the words more sour than sarcastic.
"Stop whining and get under the covers." Jared steps back to pull his t-shirt off. Once it's off his head he's pleased to see that Misha's in the process of doing so, doing his best to kick the covers down far enough so he doesn't have to bend.
Jared keeps stripping, thankful that he's already barefoot. He kicks his jeans off, not caring where they land as he heads to the other side of the bed. He tugs the blankets down, avoiding Misha's curious gaze as he slides into bed next to him. He reaches across Misha to the side table and grabs the remote, switching on the TV in the corner and flipping until he finds the right channel. Jared grins at Misha before leaning back against the pillows.
"Really?" Misha keeps looking at him and it's starts to get unnerving.
"Well yeah. I thought you'd like the company and stuff." Jared stiffens at a sudden thought. "God, you want to be alone, don't you? Fuck, I'm sorry man."
Misha laughs at that, wincing a little as his torso flexes. He reaches out to Jared, fingers cupping the back of his neck to pull him in closer. "Dumbass, you better not try and leave." Misha leans back to yawn, the gesture leaving him blinking up at Jared. "Why'd you stop on Cops?"
"Cause sirens and rednecks swearing are the soothing lullabies you need right now." Jared carefully bumps his forehead against Misha's. "I'm staying?"
"You better," Misha mumbles out, and Jared's pretty sure the combination of pain killers and alcohol are hitting him hard. "And you better make it up to me like you promised."
"Promise," Jared whispers, pressing a brief kiss to Misha's lips before curling in closer next to him.
Misha grins at him before rolling over and away from Jared. "Still can't believe we're watching Cops on our first date," he murmurs.
Jared snorts out a laugh, doing his best not to smile too hard at the words Misha chose. He carefully slides an arm around Misha's waist before pulling him tight against him. He smiles at the soft gasp Misha lets out, the sound followed by Misha wriggling his ass against Jared.
Jared stills him, kissing the back of his neck. "Tomorrow, I promise, okay? When you're feeling better and can keep up, old man." Misha retorts with an elbow jab to Jared's stomach before settling down, his fingers tangling in Jared's against his stomach.
"Good." Misha finally says, his voice sleepy and Jared can feel his breathing getting deeper. Jared can hear the TV in the background - something about a prostitute calling the police on her drug dealer - but it's all a jumbled yelling mess at this point. He's too distracted by Misha to care anyways; finally nuzzling up against the back of Misha's neck, his hair tickling Jared's nose as Jared gives in to sleep.
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Jared/Misha
Word Count: ~2000
Rating: pg
Heads-up: Schmoop
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Written for a prompt over at spnkink_meme from way back in May. Better late than never? Un-beta'd, and I had no idea it would turn this cute on me.
The prompt: Jared jumps Misha and pins him down while he tickles him. Misha's had a rough day, he's sore from the set and not amused. Jared doesn't realise until he accidentally hurts him and then has to make it up to him. H/C snuggles ensue.
Jared’s bored, foot jittering against the floor as he waits for Misha to hurry up and get back to the trailer. He’s busy poking around the bedroom when he hears the trailer door open, slam shut and then the familiar sound of the of lock clicking in to place.
He creeps out to the front room, finally spotting Misha in the kitchenette, braced against the counter with his head down and fingers gripping the edges.
Jared does his best to sneak over, managing to creep up without Misha noticing. He slides his hands up Misha’s sides, whispering “Boo” as he presses against him.
Misha jumps a fucking mile, twisting in Jared’s grasp, and Jared can hear the heavy thunk when Misha’s elbow hits the counter. Misha spasms against him, the gesture egging Jared on, his fingers digging into Misha’s side, the spots Jared’s teased him before with successful results.
This time though, Misha’s grabbing at him, pulling on his shirt until Jared pauses to look at him.
“Jesus, Jared, stop,” Misha snaps out, trying his best to pull away, but pinned in place by Jared's arms. “Not in the fucking mood.”
Jared’s never seen Misha like this, distant, maybe, or sometimes distracted by other things, but never harsh, never short or biting. He pulls back, pulling his arms back to cross them while his gaze remains focused on Misha.
“What’s up?” Jared keeps his voice soft, wanting to calm Misha down more than anything. Misha's hackles are up, the way he’s stalking away from Jared, spacing the two of them out. Misha finally settles in front of the couch, eyeing Jared before sitting down, curled up tight in one corner.
“Hurts.”
Misha sounds so broken, so small, that Jared wants to laugh. He doesn’t though, instead grabbing a pair of glasses from the cupboard. He snags the bottle of liquor next before heading over to sit down at the other end of the couch.
“You had that fight scene today, right?” Jared sets the glasses down, pouring them both what his dad would call a healthy amount. It’s a night shoot tomorrow, so it’s not like either of them have any need to wake up early.
Misha nods, stretching out to grab a glass. He takes a long sip before glancing over at Jared. “That new guy, the temp? Doesn’t pull his punches the same way everyone else does.”
Jared just watches him, prompting Misha to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it upwards, exposing an already purpling area on his ribs.
“Jesus...” Jared murmurs, eyes widening at the bruising, which is easily as large as his hand when he spreads his fingers out. “When was this again?”
“Earlier today. Maybe seven hours ago?”
“And you’ve been working like this since then?” Jared’s voice is incredulous. “No wonder you practically slugged me.” He stares at Misha’s skin for a moment longer. “You sure there’s nothing broken?”
“Pretty sure.”
“You’re killing me here, you realize?” Misha smiles then, the first real one Jared’s seen on him all day. “Come on, let’s get you into bed. You really need your beauty sleep now.”
Misha sticks his tongue out at that, which Jared takes as a good sign. He stands, grabbing his glass in one hand before offering Misha his other arm.
It’s a short stagger to the bedroom, Misha leaning heavily on Jared, as Jared staggers along, trying to avoid elbowing Misha’s bruised ribs.
“And you're sure they’re not broken or anything?” Jared asks as Misha sits down on the bed, huffing out a breath. Misha just stares up at him, eyes wide and blue and fuck, Jared’s screwed. “What do you need?”
“M’peejays.” Misha’s mumbling, head dropping down and tucked against his chest. “Over there.” He gestures towards one of the drawers in the closet.
Jared walks over, opening up the drawers until he finds the one holding old t-shirts and loose cotton pants. He picks a light blue pair, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that tells him that it's because the fabric matches Misha’s eyes.
He returns to the bed, dropping to his knees in front of Misha. “You good with this?” He asks, holding up the clothing. Misha nods, and Jared tried not to think of what exactly Misha's agreeing to.
Jared waits, expecting Misha to shuck off his jeans and get dressed, but nothing happens. Misha stays still, glazed over except for how his eyes are tracking Jared’s every breath.
“Need help?” Jared finally offers, breaking the silence. Misha nods, once, and Jared huffs out a sigh before tentatively reaching for Misha's belt. “Just, let me know, okay?” Misha nods again, and Jared’s fingers start to fumble with the buckle, the sharp metallic sound loud in the room.
Jared gets it undone, and finally looks back up into Misha’s eyes. “Gotta lift up,” he manages to croak out. Misha complies, wincing as he lifts himself up, hips raising far enough off the bed for Jared to curl his fingers around the waistband of Misha’s jeans and tug.
The denim slides down Misha’s thighs, and Jared pauses to untangle the fabric from Misha’s ankles. He leans closer as he does so, can feel the heat from Misha’s skin, and Jared lets his head rest against Misha’s knee.
He doesn't really hear Misha groan as feel it reverberate through his skin, a heavy hum that has Jared twisting his head to press a kiss on the soft skin of Misha’s thigh. “What else do you want me to do?” He murmurs, licking his lips, tongue catching on Misha’s skin.
Misha just whimpers this time, and Jared takes pity on him, standing up in front of him. “Lift your arms up, as much as you can.” Jared grasps the hem of Misha’s shirt, waiting until Misha’s finished moving. “Tell me when”
Jared starts to roll up the fabric, slowly working the t-shirt over and off one of Misha’s arms. He can see where the impact had happened, the skin already a deeper purple than the surrounding area. The bruise was larger than Jared had been able to tell in the other room. It reached around Misha’s side to brush against his backbone, and Jared wants to punch the guy who did this.
“I’m fine,” Misha murmurs, letting his head tip to the side to rest against Jared. “It's not like I held back either.”
Jared pauses, letting his fingers graze over the skin and he tries not to move when Misha flinches. He’s seen Misha in a fight scene before, knows that that’s the truth; that Misha’s willing to give everything he’s got and more.
“Still doesn’t mean you weren’t stupid.”
“Yeah.” Misha suddenly becomes heavier against Jared, and Jared’s aware of how late it is.
“Come on, let's finish this up.” Jared keeps a gentle pressure on Misha’s shirt, inching it off until Misha’s finally stripped down in front of him, clad only in his boxers. Jared kneels back in front of Misha, reaching to bring the pajamas down to the floor with him.
Jared pools Misha’s pajama pants on the carpet, then tips his head towards Misha. Misha stands, hand braced against Jared’s shoulder as he lifts himself up and steps into the pajamas. Jared pulls them up, slowly, letting his fingers drag against Misha’s skin, roughened fingertips catching on the fine hairs.
“Jared,” Misha murmurs, and for a moment Jared thinks he’s imagining things. But Misha’s fingers are suddenly carding through his hair, and Jared leans into it, eyes closing at the touch.
Jared’s still not sure what’s happening, as he had thought Misha and Jensen had something going on. He had brought it up casually one day and Jensen had shook his head at the implications. That conversation flits through Jared’s head as he starts to stand, mouth dragging along Misha’s stomach, the smooth curve of Misha’s abs and Jared wills himself not to think anymore, to just accept that what happens happens, and that’s it.
Jared gasps out a breath when he feels Misha's hand cup his jaw, and he risks a glance upward to Misha’s gaze. He’s smiling down at Jared, eyes fucking twinkling. “I’m not gonna break, you know,” Misha murmurs out, hand slipping down to tug on Jared’s shoulder.
Jared gets up off his knees, towering over Misha when he leans over him. Jared lets his fingers curl in Misha’s hair, pulling his head back to expose the line of his throat
“I know...” Jared starts, pressing a kiss to Misha’s collarbone. He licks a line up Misha’s neck, the slow drag of his tongue pulling a moan from Misha’s throat. “Still need to get you into bed though.”
Misha huffs out an exasperated sigh, fingers grasping Jared's shirt and tugging him closer. “Lots of things can happen in bed,” he murmurs, and Jared can hear the sweet slur of alcohol in Misha’s words.
“Not when you’re damaged the way you are,” Jared counters, passing his hand over Misha’s side. Misha winces, an involuntary shudder running through his body. Jared just looks at him, and Misha slumps under his gaze.
“Fine.” Misha sounds like a petulant five year old, and Jared grins at the look on Misha's face.
“I’ll make it up to you when you aren’t bruised and broken, kay?”
"Thank god Cas isn't kicking ass like he used to," Misha mutters, the words more sour than sarcastic.
"Stop whining and get under the covers." Jared steps back to pull his t-shirt off. Once it's off his head he's pleased to see that Misha's in the process of doing so, doing his best to kick the covers down far enough so he doesn't have to bend.
Jared keeps stripping, thankful that he's already barefoot. He kicks his jeans off, not caring where they land as he heads to the other side of the bed. He tugs the blankets down, avoiding Misha's curious gaze as he slides into bed next to him. He reaches across Misha to the side table and grabs the remote, switching on the TV in the corner and flipping until he finds the right channel. Jared grins at Misha before leaning back against the pillows.
"Really?" Misha keeps looking at him and it's starts to get unnerving.
"Well yeah. I thought you'd like the company and stuff." Jared stiffens at a sudden thought. "God, you want to be alone, don't you? Fuck, I'm sorry man."
Misha laughs at that, wincing a little as his torso flexes. He reaches out to Jared, fingers cupping the back of his neck to pull him in closer. "Dumbass, you better not try and leave." Misha leans back to yawn, the gesture leaving him blinking up at Jared. "Why'd you stop on Cops?"
"Cause sirens and rednecks swearing are the soothing lullabies you need right now." Jared carefully bumps his forehead against Misha's. "I'm staying?"
"You better," Misha mumbles out, and Jared's pretty sure the combination of pain killers and alcohol are hitting him hard. "And you better make it up to me like you promised."
"Promise," Jared whispers, pressing a brief kiss to Misha's lips before curling in closer next to him.
Misha grins at him before rolling over and away from Jared. "Still can't believe we're watching Cops on our first date," he murmurs.
Jared snorts out a laugh, doing his best not to smile too hard at the words Misha chose. He carefully slides an arm around Misha's waist before pulling him tight against him. He smiles at the soft gasp Misha lets out, the sound followed by Misha wriggling his ass against Jared.
Jared stills him, kissing the back of his neck. "Tomorrow, I promise, okay? When you're feeling better and can keep up, old man." Misha retorts with an elbow jab to Jared's stomach before settling down, his fingers tangling in Jared's against his stomach.
"Good." Misha finally says, his voice sleepy and Jared can feel his breathing getting deeper. Jared can hear the TV in the background - something about a prostitute calling the police on her drug dealer - but it's all a jumbled yelling mess at this point. He's too distracted by Misha to care anyways; finally nuzzling up against the back of Misha's neck, his hair tickling Jared's nose as Jared gives in to sleep.