Carefully, more carefully, he feels for the milk crate he knows was at his feet, finds it - checks that it's upturned - and lowers himself down.
"My ass is gonna be criss-crossed by the end of this."
Misha's voice comes out of the darkness, amused. "Your ass is gonna be just as fine as it always is, Jen. Quit complaining."
He stretches his legs out a tiny bit. Manages not to kick Misha in the knee. The silence is unnerving in the darkness. Jensen feels a bit like he's in a sensory deprivation chamber. He doesn't like it. All his actorly instincts are telling him that communication needs sight and sound, that an absence of both is sub-human.
He ends up talking just to break the silence. "This is like being locked in some psychopath's basement."
"Hmm?" Misha's response is querying.
"Like in Silence of the Lambs or something," Jensen clarifies.
"I was thinking it's more like seven minutes in heaven." Comes Misha's dry reply.
"You would."
Misha snorts his amusement. "Well you already played spin the bottle."
"I am not playing seven minutes in heaven with you, Misha." Jensen feels that the eyeroll should be fairly obvious.
It should be at least as obvious as the grin he hears when Misha replies, "Would you rather eat my brains?"
Jensen laughs despite himself. "No thanks. I'm quite happy doing neither of those things."
"You have to choose. Brains or Kissing."
Because apparently they are eleven. Jensen replies automatically without skipping a beat.
"Brains."
He can definitely hear the pout that is absolutely on Misha's face right now.
"I think you're impugning my manliness," Misha says.
"I think i'm impugning your girliness, actually."
"I'll have you know i'm an excellent kisser."
Misha's disembodied voice is definitely petulant.
"I don't doubt it," Jensen laughs.
Misha splutters, clearly not buying Jensen's assurances, though to be fair, they were fairly heavily laced with sarcasm. "Right. That's it, Clarice. Hold onto your knickers."
Jensen gets as far as formulating a response that includes the phrase did you just say 'knickers'? when there's a shuffling and the heat of a body suddenly slides into his space and makes the hair on the back of his arms stand on end.
"Mish--"
But he's cut off when a pair of lips are suddenly smushed up against his own with all the subtlety of a freight train.
Jensen is so shocked that he actually doesn't think about it, just parts his lips and finds his mouth suddenly full of Misha's tongue. Misha's hot, silky, wet, tongue.
It takes him a second. A small second, but one in which the whole book of reasons why he should not be doing this with his co-star, his friend, goes flying out the window.
And god help him if he isn't just blithely kissing Misha back. Sucking and stroking Misha's tongue with his own, inhaling his breath and tasting him.
And when Misha makes a truly pornographic noise that he can feel down to the tips of his fucking toes? He remembers why that rule book was there in the first place. Because, shit.
He pulls back, out of the reach of Misha's lips and gasps in a shuddery breath.
"Jesus, Misha."
Thankfully, Misha sounds just as out of breath as he does, though he's clearly trying for vindicated. "I told you I'm an excellent kisser."
"Consider my knickers officially dropped," Jensen manages. It's lame, but it's all his kiss-addled brain can manage.
Jensen isn't sure how it happens, and he'll blame it on the lack of light if asked, 'cause the dark makes you do crazy-ass shit. In any case, Misha's lips are back on his and Misha's fingers are threading through his hair.
And it's surely not Jensen's doing when his hands find Misha's hips and grip tight, pulling him in flush against his body.
When Jared finds and unlocks them from their temporary prison an hour or so later, they emerge, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
Jensen's shirt is half-untucked, one of the buttons through the wrong button-hole. Misha has a streak of black oil down his cheek and smudged into his hairline.
Jared raises an eyebrow. "Um...do I want to know?"
Jensen looks at Misha stoically before turning back to Jared.
Awwww. That was awesomesauce! I really enjoyed that, q! The banter, the hints of Jared, the brains vs. kissing debate. Sweet w/out being cloying. And bringing the funneh w/ the last line. :)
Yay! :) Thanks, bb! As you know, banter is not my forte, but it just seemed to come with this, so I let it. It is still nothing compared to your bantery goodness, but i'm pretty pleased nonetheless! *g*
Perfectly perfect, m'dear. This is EXACTLY what I was looking for, but still surprising and wonderful and I wanted to cuddle grumpity!Jensen and devious!Misha to itty bitty bits. ♥
"My ass is gonna be criss-crossed by the end of this."
Misha's voice comes out of the darkness, amused. "Your ass is gonna be just as fine as it always is, Jen. Quit complaining."
He stretches his legs out a tiny bit. Manages not to kick Misha in the knee. The silence is unnerving in the darkness. Jensen feels a bit like he's in a sensory deprivation chamber. He doesn't like it. All his actorly instincts are telling him that communication needs sight and sound, that an absence of both is sub-human.
He ends up talking just to break the silence. "This is like being locked in some psychopath's basement."
"Hmm?" Misha's response is querying.
"Like in Silence of the Lambs or something," Jensen clarifies.
"I was thinking it's more like seven minutes in heaven." Comes Misha's dry reply.
"You would."
Misha snorts his amusement. "Well you already played spin the bottle."
"I am not playing seven minutes in heaven with you, Misha." Jensen feels that the eyeroll should be fairly obvious.
It should be at least as obvious as the grin he hears when Misha replies, "Would you rather eat my brains?"
Jensen laughs despite himself. "No thanks. I'm quite happy doing neither of those things."
"You have to choose. Brains or Kissing."
Because apparently they are eleven. Jensen replies automatically without skipping a beat.
"Brains."
He can definitely hear the pout that is absolutely on Misha's face right now.
"I think you're impugning my manliness," Misha says.
"I think i'm impugning your girliness, actually."
"I'll have you know i'm an excellent kisser."
Misha's disembodied voice is definitely petulant.
"I don't doubt it," Jensen laughs.
Misha splutters, clearly not buying Jensen's assurances, though to be fair, they were fairly heavily laced with sarcasm. "Right. That's it, Clarice. Hold onto your knickers."
Jensen gets as far as formulating a response that includes the phrase did you just say 'knickers'? when there's a shuffling and the heat of a body suddenly slides into his space and makes the hair on the back of his arms stand on end.
"Mish--"
But he's cut off when a pair of lips are suddenly smushed up against his own with all the subtlety of a freight train.
Jensen is so shocked that he actually doesn't think about it, just parts his lips and finds his mouth suddenly full of Misha's tongue. Misha's hot, silky, wet, tongue.
It takes him a second. A small second, but one in which the whole book of reasons why he should not be doing this with his co-star, his friend, goes flying out the window.
And god help him if he isn't just blithely kissing Misha back. Sucking and stroking Misha's tongue with his own, inhaling his breath and tasting him.
And when Misha makes a truly pornographic noise that he can feel down to the tips of his fucking toes? He remembers why that rule book was there in the first place. Because, shit.
He pulls back, out of the reach of Misha's lips and gasps in a shuddery breath.
"Jesus, Misha."
Thankfully, Misha sounds just as out of breath as he does, though he's clearly trying for vindicated. "I told you I'm an excellent kisser."
"Consider my knickers officially dropped," Jensen manages. It's lame, but it's all his kiss-addled brain can manage.
Jensen isn't sure how it happens, and he'll blame it on the lack of light if asked, 'cause the dark makes you do crazy-ass shit. In any case, Misha's lips are back on his and Misha's fingers are threading through his hair.
And it's surely not Jensen's doing when his hands find Misha's hips and grip tight, pulling him in flush against his body.
When Jared finds and unlocks them from their temporary prison an hour or so later, they emerge, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
Jensen's shirt is half-untucked, one of the buttons through the wrong button-hole. Misha has a streak of black oil down his cheek and smudged into his hairline.
Jared raises an eyebrow. "Um...do I want to know?"
Jensen looks at Misha stoically before turning back to Jared.
"I wouldn't eat his brains."
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BLARHAHAHAHAHA. *chortles*
GREATEST THING EVER.
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I really, really love this!
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I WOULDN'T EAT HIS BRAINS.
brb lol forever
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