If This Is It (Jensen/Misha, PG, AU)
Title: If This Is It
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Misha, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 3.200
Warnings: none
Summary: The one thing Misha is looking forward to each week are the days when his favorite street musician is playing. One day, he finally stops and ends up hiring Jensen to play at his birthday party. What Misha forgot to disclose is that it's a party of one.
Author’s Note: Written for the Cockles Big Bang 2016.
=> AO3 <=
Misha trudged to his office in a slump, clutching his travel mug full of steaming coffee like the lifeline it was. It would be another boring day with too much work to do and not enough time to do it in. His boss would no doubt find an urgent project that needed to be done straight away and his secretary would be mad at him again for sharing part of the workload. Like it was his own personal fault the higher-ups always thought of stupid new shit which would eventually raise their workload even more.
Then he remembered. It was Tuesday. And Tuesday meant he would be there. Misha picked up his step only to slow back down as soon as he heard the first chords being played. Tuesdays and Fridays the street corner was graced by a talented musician with the voice of an angel and the face of a Greek god. Misha sighed happily and hid his smile behind his travel mug, pretending to smell the coffee.
He never lingered though; he always walked right on. Because the sooner he got to the office the sooner he could leave again. But by that time, the musician would be gone. Still. If Misha allowed himself to stop for a full song or two, he would never leave again and just spend his whole morning gazing at the musician in a happy bubble.
Today, he was playing Strawberry Fields Forever and Misha was still humming along to it in his mind hours later, when he was chained to his desk.
It had turned into another long week of working overtime and nursing an oncoming cold, fighting off a headache and just generally being really sore. So when Friday rolled around, Misha was ready to call it a week. The only reason he got up at all was the prospect of hearing the musician play again.
However when Misha got within hearing range this time, he frowned slightly because he couldn’t place the song. And he always knew the songs being played. It irritated him that he couldn’t immediately pick up on it and hum along. It was a good song though, and the more he listened to the lyrics, the slower his steps became until he ended up stopping just next to the musician as if in a trance, listening closely.
The musician was singing about all the reasons you give yourself for not fulfilling your dreams, all the little excuses and lies you tell yourself. In the last verse, the protagonist realized that he could die any day and why waste another second?
Misha breathed out when it was over, staring at the musician. It felt like a punch to the gut. All the vacations he never took, the short trips to meet up with friends, the plays he never went to. Hell, he never even bothered to stop and smell the roses - or in this case, listen to the street musician.
The street musician who had finished his song and was looking at him with a smile on his lips now. “Hello,” he rasped in his soft voice and winked.
“What song was that?” Misha blurted out before he could help himself, startled out of his stupor and realizing that he was being very rude, not even saying hello back like a decent human being. He bit his lip.
The musician however just smiled another shy smile and looked at the ground bashfully. “Oh that? That was one of mine.”
“But you always play covers,” Misha replied, his lips again moving before his brain could catch up.
“No, you just never stay to listen,” the musician replied, winking again. Then he gripped his guitar tighter and turned away and Misha realized he was going to launch into another song and end the conversation.
“Can I buy you?” Misha quickly yelled out, making a few heads turn his way. He blushed crimson when he realized what he’d just said. “Uhm, your music, I mean,” he added to clarify, passing his hand through his hair and finally looking down at the pavement to see if maybe he could spot a display. But all he saw was a propped open guitar case with a few coins thrown in.
“Naw man, my music is not for sale,” the guy replied before leaning closer. “However it so happens, I am.”
Misha shuddered at hearing that voice so close to his ear. His brain almost short-circuited at all the implications and mental pictures that flooded his brain before the musician could elaborate.
“I play weddings and office parties and store openings or whatever.” The musician was bending over to reach into his guitar case, producing a business card to hand over.
Misha had just forced his eyes away from the singer’s ass, hopefully in time not to be found out, and accepted the card gratefully. “Jensen Ackles?” He asked, reading the bold lettering.
“That’s me,” the musician, Jensen, grinned. “Give me a call if you get tasked with planning the Christmas party or, you know…” He trailed off, giving Misha a not-so-subtle once-over and licking his lips.
Misha’s mouth went dry but he felt emboldened enough to ask his next question. “Do you play birthday parties?”
“Depends,” Jensen shrugged. “What age are we talking about?”
“Uhm, thirty-five?” Misha replied, slightly confused.
“Cool,” Jensen nodded. “It’s just, after playing kids’ songs for a few hours, I get really depressed.”
“No kids’ songs. Definitely.” Misha scrunched up his nose.
Jensen laughed softly. “God, you’re adorable. If I’d known playing one of my own songs would finally make you stop, I’d have timed my sets better.”
“What?” Misha blinked. Did Jensen just say that, or was his mind playing cruel tricks on him?
“When’s your party?” Jensen asked without missing a beat.
“Monday?” Misha asked, hoping Jensen would be free.
“In three days?” Jensen sounded slightly panicked.
“Yeah? Is that not ok? Do you have other engagements?” Misha was about to suggest another date when Jensen held up his hand.
“No, no. I’m free. I just won’t be able to fit in many song requests, in case I don’t already know how to play them,” Jensen explained apologetically.
“Oh. I don’t care. Just play what you usually play here,” Misha shrugged. “Maybe some of your own songs?”
“I can do that.” Jensen’s cheeks turned a slight pink. “Did you really like the song?”
“I loved it.” Misha nodded enthusiastically. “And I meant it. I’d buy your CD.”
“Wait until you’ve heard more,” Jensen cautioned. “You might regret buying that junk.”
Misha somehow strongly doubled that, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. “So, Monday?”
“Text me time and address,” Jensen confirmed. “And any song requests you can think of.”
“Will do,” Misha nodded enthusiastically, shuffling his feet and not really ready to move on just yet. Jensen gave him a bright smile and then turned, playing the first chords of Let It Be.
After a few more awkward seconds, Misha realized he had better go to work, so he pocketed Jensen’s business card carefully and left to face the chaos.
***
Misha had set the time for 8 p.m., thinking that would give him ample time to eat dinner and get ready before Jensen showed up. However even though it was his birthday, the workload wouldn’t stop but instead, a bunch of co-workers would pop in to congratulate him at random times, always distracting him from his tasks. He wasn’t really complaining though - it was great that so many of them remembered and obviously cared. Yet still. He had plans.
By 7:45 Misha just emerged from his shower, hair still dripping wet, when his doorbell rang. He cursed, quickly jumped into a pair of sweat pants and rubbed his hair dry on the way to the door, expecting the pizza delivery guy. Instead it was Jensen on the other side, looking impeccable in tight jeans and a dark red plaid button down. Misha’s eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.
“Hey,” Jensen scratched the back of his neck. “Looks like I’m too early. I can go around the block and come back in fifteen?”
“No, it’s…” Misha crossed his arms in front of his chest, realizing he wasn’t wearing much of anything. “Come in,” he squeaked before he could think better of it.
“Thanks.” Jensen entered as soon as Misha made room for him, looking around the tiny apartment. “Where should I set up?”
“Oh, uhm…” Misha passed a hand through his hair, cringing when it came back wet. “Just wait on the couch and I’ll get ready?” He bit his lip and pointed towards his living room, then hurried in the direction of the bathroom again. He stopped before he entered though, turning around and throwing his wallet, which he’d left on the kitchen cabinet, at Jensen. “If it rings again, please pay the pizza man?”
“Sure,” Jensen smiled, catching the wallet smoothly.
Misha retreated back to his bathroom, changing quickly before he could start to hyperventilate. He just applied some after shave when he heard the doorbell ring again. But instead of checking up on it, he furiously towelled his hair until it was dry enough. No time to style it, he just passed his hands through it a few times until it looked tame enough before joining Jensen again.
The pizza box was sitting on the coffee table and Jensen held out the wallet for Misha to take back. “I wasn’t sure if this is right. How many people did you even invite?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.
“People?” Misha swallowed hard. “Oh. Right.” He bit his lip, looking away. “Uhm, none?”
Jensen cocked his head. “But the party is happening here?”
“Yes?” Misha’s eyes flitted through the room nervously. “This is creepy, isn’t it? God, I’m sorry. I just…”
“Is this a date?” Jensen asked. “Cause you know, you could have just asked me…”
“What? No!” Misha fisted a hand in his hair. “It’s my birthday. Today. It really is…” He trailed off, considering showing Jensen his I.D. But that wouldn’t really help, would it? “I just… I wasn’t going to do anything but then I thought, I like music. I never take the time to stop and listen to you play. So I just thought…” He hid his face in both hands, feeling himself crashing.
“No, hey.” Jensen had gotten up and placed a hand on Misha’s shoulder, rubbing softly. “I get it. Make yourself happy first, right?”
“What?” Misha sniffled a bit, rubbing at his face furiously to get his grip back.
“It’s perfectly ok to just do something for yourself. It’s just, I didn’t expect this.” Jensen shrugged. “But it’s fine. I’ll play for you.”
“Really?” Misha lowered his hands, looking at Jensen and realizing just how close the other man was. And how nice he smelled. He took a deep breath and had to suppress a shudder.
“Sure.” Jensen lowered his hand, but he was still touching Misha’s arm. “I’m flattered you invited me to play for you.”
“You make me happy,” Misha said, with a soft smile. “On the mornings you play, I mean. I’m always happier to go to work knowing I’ll be hearing your voice on the way.”
Jensen beamed at him. “Thanks. Nobody’s ever said something this nice to me. Best I can hope for is nobody is bothered enough to call the cops on me.”
“But why would they?” Misha was bewildered. “Your voice is so…” He gestured, not knowing the right word for it. “Smooth.”
Jensen laughed, patting Misha’s back before putting more distance between them. “Again, thank you.” He went to his guitar case and opened it, taking out his instrument. “So, where do you want me to set up?”
Misha looked around his small apartment, realizing that he hadn’t thought this through at all. “You can stand behind the couch if that is less creepy. Then I won’t be able to look at you.”
Jensen gave him a look that conveyed how ridiculous he thought that idea was. He took up root right next to the TV instead. “How about here?”
“Good. That is… good.” Misha bit his lip again. He took his usual seat on his couch while Jensen was tuning his guitar. His eyes fell on the pizza box and he remembered his manners. “Do you want some pizza?”
“Already ate,” Jensen shrugged. “But please go ahead and eat yourself. I don’t mind.”
Misha nodded gratefully and opened the box. This was really weird though. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. He should have at least invited a few colleagues over. Then again, he didn’t want anyone else with him right now. He just wanted to relax and listen to his street musician.
By the time Jensen played his second song, Misha got up and opened a bottle of wine, offering Jensen a glass. Without interrupting his set, Jensen just nodded and Misha poured him a glass, leaving it on the table.
Jensen was on his fourth song by the time Misha had finished half of his pizza. He closed the box and took a large sip from his wine, leaving back further in his couch, finally relaxed. When the song was done, Jensen reached over to take a drink as well.
“Any requests?” Jensen asked.
“The song from Friday,” Misha was quick to answer. “The one about not wasting your life.”
Jensen smirked. “I’m glad you got the message.” As he played, Misha closed his eyes, giving himself over to the music and reflecting on his life. It was a melancholy song and Jensen followed it up with another original, this one more upbeat and all about displaying your love proudly.
Jensen continued playing four more covers before ending with another two original songs. By the time Jensen’s set was over, his glass of wine was empty and Misha had had two of them. He offered Jensen a refill, but the musician declined, packing up his guitar instead.
Misha was slightly disappointed, but he was so relaxed and elated, it was ok that Jensen prepared to leave. As awkward as this started out, Misha was really glad he went and hired Jensen to play for him. The thought made him realize he still had to pay the man in question.
Misha opened his wallet, taking out two hundred dollars. “How much is it?” They had never talked about price, but he figured that should cover it.
“Oh no,” Jensen was close again, close enough to put his hand on top of Misha’s and making him close the wallet. “Don’t pay me.”
Misha looked at him in confusion. “Why not?”
“If you pay me, I don’t get to do this,” Jensen explained, leaning in and giving Misha a chaste kiss. He pulled back with a chagrined smile and Misha woke up enough to reach out and pull him in for another, longer kiss.
This time, when Jensen pulled back, they were both flushed and smiling at each other. “So…” Misha tried, but failed, to put his thoughts into words.
“So, this was nice,” Jensen finished for him. “Call me sometime.” He moved out of Misha’s reach and grabbed his guitar case, making his way over to the front door.
“Wait!” Misha followed him, placing his hand on Jensen’s arm lightly so he wouldn’t be able to open the door. “Stay?”
“I really shouldn’t…”Jensen hedged, biting his lip, his gaze landing on Misha’s lips. Jensen licked his, eyes flicking up to gaze at Misha.
“It’s my birthday,” Misha offered, hand moving over Jensen’s arm until he could clasp his fingers with Jensen’s, tugging him back into the room suggestively.
“You make an excellent point there,” Jensen followed, dropping his guitar case. “I didn’t even get you a gift.”
Before Misha could protest, seeing how Jensen had played a whole set of music for him just now and anyway, they weren’t even friends, really, he didn’t owe him any gifts, Jensen ended his train of thought with another kiss.
**
The next morning, Misha woke up alone. He groaned, rolling over to the side Jensen had occupied the night before, and clutched at Jensen’s pillow, inhaling deeply. Misha smiled. That had been his best birthday in ages. He hugged the pillow and rolled back over happily, spending another five minutes in bed before starting his morning rituals.
He was a bit disappointed that Jensen hadn’t left him a note of any kind, but he had his number and a good feeling about this.
On his way to work, Misha realized that it was Tuesday. His steps faltered at first, but then he quickly made his way to Jensen’s usual corner, hearing his music before he saw him, as usual. When he entered Jensen’s peripheral vision, Jensen stopped playing mid-song and instead launched into one of his own. The one from the night before, about not hiding your love affairs and being proud of them.
Misha’s face lit up and he stopped, listening to the full song and never once breaking eye contact with Jensen, who seemed to sing just for him, just as he’d done the night before. When the song was over, a few people actually started clapping, but Misha didn’t really take notice. Instead he was mesmerized by Jensen, who waved him closer. Misha went, of course he went, and when he was just close enough, Jensen pulled him in for a deep kiss.
They were both grinning brightly when they parted. “Sorry I missed you this morning,” Jensen apologized.
“You’re here,” Misha shrugged. He couldn’t stop smiling.
“It’s Tuesday,” Jensen explained. “I had to go make someone’s day a little happier.”
Misha leaned over for another quick kiss. “I’ve gotta go to work though,” he informed Jensen regretfully.
“I know,” Jensen pushed him away. “Go.” Misha was still within his reach though and Jensen ruffled his hair. “Friday night?”
“Friday night?” Misha repeated, hands twitching to smooth his hair back down. But his scalp was tingling nicely from Jensen’s touch.
“For our next date,” Jensen clarified. “And you better be cooking for me.”
“I can make you pancakes Saturday morning?” Misha offered.
Jensen laughed. “That works.” He took a step forward, stealing another kiss. “Call me?”
Misha nodded, hand fisting in Jensen’s short cropped hair to pull him in for another dirty kiss. He bumped into the guitar which was thankfully keeping them at a distance and reminding him where they were. He sighed and kissed the corner of Jensen’s lips before quickly walking away without turning around.
He could just hear the first few chords of Strawberry Fields Forever when he rounded the corner with a spring in his step. No matter how crazy this week got, he knew it would just fly by until it was finally Friday again and he’d get to hear Jensen in the morning and then see him in the evening. Misha was beyond glad he decided to finally stop and listen instead of just walking past like he had so many times before.
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Misha, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 3.200
Warnings: none
Summary: The one thing Misha is looking forward to each week are the days when his favorite street musician is playing. One day, he finally stops and ends up hiring Jensen to play at his birthday party. What Misha forgot to disclose is that it's a party of one.
Author’s Note: Written for the Cockles Big Bang 2016.
=> AO3 <=
Misha trudged to his office in a slump, clutching his travel mug full of steaming coffee like the lifeline it was. It would be another boring day with too much work to do and not enough time to do it in. His boss would no doubt find an urgent project that needed to be done straight away and his secretary would be mad at him again for sharing part of the workload. Like it was his own personal fault the higher-ups always thought of stupid new shit which would eventually raise their workload even more.
Then he remembered. It was Tuesday. And Tuesday meant he would be there. Misha picked up his step only to slow back down as soon as he heard the first chords being played. Tuesdays and Fridays the street corner was graced by a talented musician with the voice of an angel and the face of a Greek god. Misha sighed happily and hid his smile behind his travel mug, pretending to smell the coffee.
He never lingered though; he always walked right on. Because the sooner he got to the office the sooner he could leave again. But by that time, the musician would be gone. Still. If Misha allowed himself to stop for a full song or two, he would never leave again and just spend his whole morning gazing at the musician in a happy bubble.
Today, he was playing Strawberry Fields Forever and Misha was still humming along to it in his mind hours later, when he was chained to his desk.
It had turned into another long week of working overtime and nursing an oncoming cold, fighting off a headache and just generally being really sore. So when Friday rolled around, Misha was ready to call it a week. The only reason he got up at all was the prospect of hearing the musician play again.
However when Misha got within hearing range this time, he frowned slightly because he couldn’t place the song. And he always knew the songs being played. It irritated him that he couldn’t immediately pick up on it and hum along. It was a good song though, and the more he listened to the lyrics, the slower his steps became until he ended up stopping just next to the musician as if in a trance, listening closely.
The musician was singing about all the reasons you give yourself for not fulfilling your dreams, all the little excuses and lies you tell yourself. In the last verse, the protagonist realized that he could die any day and why waste another second?
Misha breathed out when it was over, staring at the musician. It felt like a punch to the gut. All the vacations he never took, the short trips to meet up with friends, the plays he never went to. Hell, he never even bothered to stop and smell the roses - or in this case, listen to the street musician.
The street musician who had finished his song and was looking at him with a smile on his lips now. “Hello,” he rasped in his soft voice and winked.
“What song was that?” Misha blurted out before he could help himself, startled out of his stupor and realizing that he was being very rude, not even saying hello back like a decent human being. He bit his lip.
The musician however just smiled another shy smile and looked at the ground bashfully. “Oh that? That was one of mine.”
“But you always play covers,” Misha replied, his lips again moving before his brain could catch up.
“No, you just never stay to listen,” the musician replied, winking again. Then he gripped his guitar tighter and turned away and Misha realized he was going to launch into another song and end the conversation.
“Can I buy you?” Misha quickly yelled out, making a few heads turn his way. He blushed crimson when he realized what he’d just said. “Uhm, your music, I mean,” he added to clarify, passing his hand through his hair and finally looking down at the pavement to see if maybe he could spot a display. But all he saw was a propped open guitar case with a few coins thrown in.
“Naw man, my music is not for sale,” the guy replied before leaning closer. “However it so happens, I am.”
Misha shuddered at hearing that voice so close to his ear. His brain almost short-circuited at all the implications and mental pictures that flooded his brain before the musician could elaborate.
“I play weddings and office parties and store openings or whatever.” The musician was bending over to reach into his guitar case, producing a business card to hand over.
Misha had just forced his eyes away from the singer’s ass, hopefully in time not to be found out, and accepted the card gratefully. “Jensen Ackles?” He asked, reading the bold lettering.
“That’s me,” the musician, Jensen, grinned. “Give me a call if you get tasked with planning the Christmas party or, you know…” He trailed off, giving Misha a not-so-subtle once-over and licking his lips.
Misha’s mouth went dry but he felt emboldened enough to ask his next question. “Do you play birthday parties?”
“Depends,” Jensen shrugged. “What age are we talking about?”
“Uhm, thirty-five?” Misha replied, slightly confused.
“Cool,” Jensen nodded. “It’s just, after playing kids’ songs for a few hours, I get really depressed.”
“No kids’ songs. Definitely.” Misha scrunched up his nose.
Jensen laughed softly. “God, you’re adorable. If I’d known playing one of my own songs would finally make you stop, I’d have timed my sets better.”
“What?” Misha blinked. Did Jensen just say that, or was his mind playing cruel tricks on him?
“When’s your party?” Jensen asked without missing a beat.
“Monday?” Misha asked, hoping Jensen would be free.
“In three days?” Jensen sounded slightly panicked.
“Yeah? Is that not ok? Do you have other engagements?” Misha was about to suggest another date when Jensen held up his hand.
“No, no. I’m free. I just won’t be able to fit in many song requests, in case I don’t already know how to play them,” Jensen explained apologetically.
“Oh. I don’t care. Just play what you usually play here,” Misha shrugged. “Maybe some of your own songs?”
“I can do that.” Jensen’s cheeks turned a slight pink. “Did you really like the song?”
“I loved it.” Misha nodded enthusiastically. “And I meant it. I’d buy your CD.”
“Wait until you’ve heard more,” Jensen cautioned. “You might regret buying that junk.”
Misha somehow strongly doubled that, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. “So, Monday?”
“Text me time and address,” Jensen confirmed. “And any song requests you can think of.”
“Will do,” Misha nodded enthusiastically, shuffling his feet and not really ready to move on just yet. Jensen gave him a bright smile and then turned, playing the first chords of Let It Be.
After a few more awkward seconds, Misha realized he had better go to work, so he pocketed Jensen’s business card carefully and left to face the chaos.
***
Misha had set the time for 8 p.m., thinking that would give him ample time to eat dinner and get ready before Jensen showed up. However even though it was his birthday, the workload wouldn’t stop but instead, a bunch of co-workers would pop in to congratulate him at random times, always distracting him from his tasks. He wasn’t really complaining though - it was great that so many of them remembered and obviously cared. Yet still. He had plans.
By 7:45 Misha just emerged from his shower, hair still dripping wet, when his doorbell rang. He cursed, quickly jumped into a pair of sweat pants and rubbed his hair dry on the way to the door, expecting the pizza delivery guy. Instead it was Jensen on the other side, looking impeccable in tight jeans and a dark red plaid button down. Misha’s eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.
“Hey,” Jensen scratched the back of his neck. “Looks like I’m too early. I can go around the block and come back in fifteen?”
“No, it’s…” Misha crossed his arms in front of his chest, realizing he wasn’t wearing much of anything. “Come in,” he squeaked before he could think better of it.
“Thanks.” Jensen entered as soon as Misha made room for him, looking around the tiny apartment. “Where should I set up?”
“Oh, uhm…” Misha passed a hand through his hair, cringing when it came back wet. “Just wait on the couch and I’ll get ready?” He bit his lip and pointed towards his living room, then hurried in the direction of the bathroom again. He stopped before he entered though, turning around and throwing his wallet, which he’d left on the kitchen cabinet, at Jensen. “If it rings again, please pay the pizza man?”
“Sure,” Jensen smiled, catching the wallet smoothly.
Misha retreated back to his bathroom, changing quickly before he could start to hyperventilate. He just applied some after shave when he heard the doorbell ring again. But instead of checking up on it, he furiously towelled his hair until it was dry enough. No time to style it, he just passed his hands through it a few times until it looked tame enough before joining Jensen again.
The pizza box was sitting on the coffee table and Jensen held out the wallet for Misha to take back. “I wasn’t sure if this is right. How many people did you even invite?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.
“People?” Misha swallowed hard. “Oh. Right.” He bit his lip, looking away. “Uhm, none?”
Jensen cocked his head. “But the party is happening here?”
“Yes?” Misha’s eyes flitted through the room nervously. “This is creepy, isn’t it? God, I’m sorry. I just…”
“Is this a date?” Jensen asked. “Cause you know, you could have just asked me…”
“What? No!” Misha fisted a hand in his hair. “It’s my birthday. Today. It really is…” He trailed off, considering showing Jensen his I.D. But that wouldn’t really help, would it? “I just… I wasn’t going to do anything but then I thought, I like music. I never take the time to stop and listen to you play. So I just thought…” He hid his face in both hands, feeling himself crashing.
“No, hey.” Jensen had gotten up and placed a hand on Misha’s shoulder, rubbing softly. “I get it. Make yourself happy first, right?”
“What?” Misha sniffled a bit, rubbing at his face furiously to get his grip back.
“It’s perfectly ok to just do something for yourself. It’s just, I didn’t expect this.” Jensen shrugged. “But it’s fine. I’ll play for you.”
“Really?” Misha lowered his hands, looking at Jensen and realizing just how close the other man was. And how nice he smelled. He took a deep breath and had to suppress a shudder.
“Sure.” Jensen lowered his hand, but he was still touching Misha’s arm. “I’m flattered you invited me to play for you.”
“You make me happy,” Misha said, with a soft smile. “On the mornings you play, I mean. I’m always happier to go to work knowing I’ll be hearing your voice on the way.”
Jensen beamed at him. “Thanks. Nobody’s ever said something this nice to me. Best I can hope for is nobody is bothered enough to call the cops on me.”
“But why would they?” Misha was bewildered. “Your voice is so…” He gestured, not knowing the right word for it. “Smooth.”
Jensen laughed, patting Misha’s back before putting more distance between them. “Again, thank you.” He went to his guitar case and opened it, taking out his instrument. “So, where do you want me to set up?”
Misha looked around his small apartment, realizing that he hadn’t thought this through at all. “You can stand behind the couch if that is less creepy. Then I won’t be able to look at you.”
Jensen gave him a look that conveyed how ridiculous he thought that idea was. He took up root right next to the TV instead. “How about here?”
“Good. That is… good.” Misha bit his lip again. He took his usual seat on his couch while Jensen was tuning his guitar. His eyes fell on the pizza box and he remembered his manners. “Do you want some pizza?”
“Already ate,” Jensen shrugged. “But please go ahead and eat yourself. I don’t mind.”
Misha nodded gratefully and opened the box. This was really weird though. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. He should have at least invited a few colleagues over. Then again, he didn’t want anyone else with him right now. He just wanted to relax and listen to his street musician.
By the time Jensen played his second song, Misha got up and opened a bottle of wine, offering Jensen a glass. Without interrupting his set, Jensen just nodded and Misha poured him a glass, leaving it on the table.
Jensen was on his fourth song by the time Misha had finished half of his pizza. He closed the box and took a large sip from his wine, leaving back further in his couch, finally relaxed. When the song was done, Jensen reached over to take a drink as well.
“Any requests?” Jensen asked.
“The song from Friday,” Misha was quick to answer. “The one about not wasting your life.”
Jensen smirked. “I’m glad you got the message.” As he played, Misha closed his eyes, giving himself over to the music and reflecting on his life. It was a melancholy song and Jensen followed it up with another original, this one more upbeat and all about displaying your love proudly.
Jensen continued playing four more covers before ending with another two original songs. By the time Jensen’s set was over, his glass of wine was empty and Misha had had two of them. He offered Jensen a refill, but the musician declined, packing up his guitar instead.
Misha was slightly disappointed, but he was so relaxed and elated, it was ok that Jensen prepared to leave. As awkward as this started out, Misha was really glad he went and hired Jensen to play for him. The thought made him realize he still had to pay the man in question.
Misha opened his wallet, taking out two hundred dollars. “How much is it?” They had never talked about price, but he figured that should cover it.
“Oh no,” Jensen was close again, close enough to put his hand on top of Misha’s and making him close the wallet. “Don’t pay me.”
Misha looked at him in confusion. “Why not?”
“If you pay me, I don’t get to do this,” Jensen explained, leaning in and giving Misha a chaste kiss. He pulled back with a chagrined smile and Misha woke up enough to reach out and pull him in for another, longer kiss.
This time, when Jensen pulled back, they were both flushed and smiling at each other. “So…” Misha tried, but failed, to put his thoughts into words.
“So, this was nice,” Jensen finished for him. “Call me sometime.” He moved out of Misha’s reach and grabbed his guitar case, making his way over to the front door.
“Wait!” Misha followed him, placing his hand on Jensen’s arm lightly so he wouldn’t be able to open the door. “Stay?”
“I really shouldn’t…”Jensen hedged, biting his lip, his gaze landing on Misha’s lips. Jensen licked his, eyes flicking up to gaze at Misha.
“It’s my birthday,” Misha offered, hand moving over Jensen’s arm until he could clasp his fingers with Jensen’s, tugging him back into the room suggestively.
“You make an excellent point there,” Jensen followed, dropping his guitar case. “I didn’t even get you a gift.”
Before Misha could protest, seeing how Jensen had played a whole set of music for him just now and anyway, they weren’t even friends, really, he didn’t owe him any gifts, Jensen ended his train of thought with another kiss.
**
The next morning, Misha woke up alone. He groaned, rolling over to the side Jensen had occupied the night before, and clutched at Jensen’s pillow, inhaling deeply. Misha smiled. That had been his best birthday in ages. He hugged the pillow and rolled back over happily, spending another five minutes in bed before starting his morning rituals.
He was a bit disappointed that Jensen hadn’t left him a note of any kind, but he had his number and a good feeling about this.
On his way to work, Misha realized that it was Tuesday. His steps faltered at first, but then he quickly made his way to Jensen’s usual corner, hearing his music before he saw him, as usual. When he entered Jensen’s peripheral vision, Jensen stopped playing mid-song and instead launched into one of his own. The one from the night before, about not hiding your love affairs and being proud of them.
Misha’s face lit up and he stopped, listening to the full song and never once breaking eye contact with Jensen, who seemed to sing just for him, just as he’d done the night before. When the song was over, a few people actually started clapping, but Misha didn’t really take notice. Instead he was mesmerized by Jensen, who waved him closer. Misha went, of course he went, and when he was just close enough, Jensen pulled him in for a deep kiss.
They were both grinning brightly when they parted. “Sorry I missed you this morning,” Jensen apologized.
“You’re here,” Misha shrugged. He couldn’t stop smiling.
“It’s Tuesday,” Jensen explained. “I had to go make someone’s day a little happier.”
Misha leaned over for another quick kiss. “I’ve gotta go to work though,” he informed Jensen regretfully.
“I know,” Jensen pushed him away. “Go.” Misha was still within his reach though and Jensen ruffled his hair. “Friday night?”
“Friday night?” Misha repeated, hands twitching to smooth his hair back down. But his scalp was tingling nicely from Jensen’s touch.
“For our next date,” Jensen clarified. “And you better be cooking for me.”
“I can make you pancakes Saturday morning?” Misha offered.
Jensen laughed. “That works.” He took a step forward, stealing another kiss. “Call me?”
Misha nodded, hand fisting in Jensen’s short cropped hair to pull him in for another dirty kiss. He bumped into the guitar which was thankfully keeping them at a distance and reminding him where they were. He sighed and kissed the corner of Jensen’s lips before quickly walking away without turning around.
He could just hear the first few chords of Strawberry Fields Forever when he rounded the corner with a spring in his step. No matter how crazy this week got, he knew it would just fly by until it was finally Friday again and he’d get to hear Jensen in the morning and then see him in the evening. Misha was beyond glad he decided to finally stop and listen instead of just walking past like he had so many times before.