Fic: Fake Mine
Title: Fake Mine
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU (?)
Fandoms: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Dean/Misha, slight Dean/Castiel and Misha/Jensen
Word Count: 2055
Warnings: Sex, barebacking, mistaken identity.
Summary: Misha thinks he's asking Jensen to "rehearse."
Note: "The French Mistake" universe. Misha and Jensen's wives were never mentioned, I just assume they don't exist in that universe (a.k.a. Cockles is canon).
Sequel: " The Complications of Reality."
~
Dean waited at Jensen’s trailer for Sam’s return from…who knows where. Something about getting their-well, Jensen and Jared’s things. Or maybe about what was happening. Or maybe he needed to brush his teeth, Dean hadn’t really been paying much attention.
No weapon to point when the door opened, but Dean grabbed the…pen. Huh. That wasn’t very threatening.
“The new scripts are fitting, don’t you think? I mean…I’ve never done exactly that on screen before, not with someone I-” Misha stopped and gestured between them.
Dean knew it wasn’t Cas, but it still freaked him out a bit. He was staring at…Misha’s t-shirt, phone, hair, lips. How did he get there? “Uh, what?”
Misha pulled off his jacket and swung it over the chair. “You know-” he raised his eyebrows, “the scene.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, that one. Which, uh, which one was that again?” Would it be cheating to find out what was going to happen? Probably, but he’d love a hint, at least.
“The sex scene.” Misha’s eyebrows could not have gotten higher.
Dean was actually surprised. It wasn’t at all what he had expected to hear, but if Cas was going to pop his cherry, Dean sure as hell wanted to know. “Cas, uh,” he chuckled, “does the nasty? With who? Some angel chick?”
“With Dean,” Misha sounded exasperated. “I mean, really, who didn’t see it coming?”
The Winchester’s jaw dropped, but he covered himself with a smirk and a laugh, “You’re fucking with me. I get it. Everyone knows Dean don’t swing that way.”
“Yeah, because their relationship is so platonic.” Ah, sarcasm, it came much more naturally to fake Cas. “Profound bond?” He dropped his head, laughing. “I get it though. The whole art imitating life, life imitating art thing, it’s a fine line.”
“Uh, yeah, yeah…” Dean’s head was swimming with the things Castiel had told him. It all did seem rather…intimate.
“Speaking of,” Misha closed the distance between them-getting closer than even Castiel did most days, “want to…” His hands began traveling towards Dean’s hips. “Rehearse?”
Fighting every urge to push him away because, hey, he wasn’t even Cas, Dean nervously froze in place. Who knew what this Jensen Ackles guy did in his spare time-fake Cas, Dean was now guessing. Misha leaned forward and nuzzled his nose into Dean’s tense neck and nipped at the skin under his ear.
“Uh,” actually, that felt pretty damn arousing, “M-misha?”
A tongue dragged across his neck. “Yes?” A soft breath blew across the wet trail his tongue had left behind.
The curiosity was getting to him. No one would know? Right? Well, the least he could do was see where this was heading. This wasn’t even his own universe, so it shouldn’t even count when he got back. Right? He decided to nod. It seemed like a good idea.
He could feel Misha smile against his skin, hands moving from his hips to his belt, as his own hands awkwardly tried to find their place-settling for the very Cas-shaped shoulder and the man’s waist. Misha’s gifted fingers swiftly undid Dean’s buckle, his button, his fly. His right hand dipped quickly and teasingly down the front of the hunter’s jeans before coming back up to help his left push Dean’s jacket and button-up off of him.
“Whoa, whoa.” Misha paused to look at him questioningly, hands still pulling off Dean’s over shirt. “This…this is normal?” Misha smiled. “Okay, I guess this is normal.” He shifted his gaze towards the windows of the trailer to check for his brother’s hulking silhouette. Hopefully Sam would be preoccupied for a while.
Dean watched as the other man dropped to his knees, pulling jeans and boxers down past his hips, and, oh. Fake Cas definitely knew what he was doing, and was certainly familiar with this body, whether it was Dean’s or Jensen’s.
His hands came to rest on Dean’s hips, positioning him so that he could lock eyes with Dean, giving him a wink and a smirk before sliding his tongue over the head of his cock. Dean’s eyes rolled up and his head lolled back against the not-so-sturdy wall of the trailer. An idle thought entered Dean’s brain, wondering if this was how Cas would do it, but looking down as lips wrapped around his dick, it didn’t matter, because he could almost imagine that it was Castiel doing it.
Misha’s head bobbed back and forth, mouth hot and welcoming on him. Dean bit his lip to stifle a groan, hips thrusting towards Cas’s-no, not Cas, Misha’s tongue and lips, his cock showing none of the hesitation that his head might have had.
Dean looked down, pained as Misha pulled off, licking the underside and across the head of his cock. He licked his lips and locked eyes with Dean. “Can you just fuck me now, Jen?”
Regaining a brief moment of composure, Dean managed to get out, “How ‘bout you call me Dean, as we are, uh, rehearsing,” along with a slightly more unsure wink.
“Kinky, I like it.” Misha pulled off his shirt and began undoing and removing his pants, while Dean unsteadily did the same. “I don’t need to do the voice, too, do I?”
“No, but-” He stopped. The Winchester couldn’t help but stare at the naked man in front of him. That’s what Cas was hiding under that trench coat? No wonder fake him had been all over it. He personally didn’t have a lot of experience with guys, but as his eyes explored the body in front of him, he felt like he knew what to do.
Misha was bent over the couch. “Come on, Dean.”
“But-”
“Jacket pocket.”
Dean patted down Misha’s jacket that had been tossed over the chair, and there it was: lube. He squirted some out onto his fingers, rubbing them so that they were completely covered and at least a little bit warmer. He approached the ass wiggling so invitingly in front of him, nervousness rapidly re-approaching.
“Just going to leave me hanging?” Misha teased, lifting his ass up higher to get his message through.
“Mmmh.” Faking his usual cockiness, he managed to reply, “No, never.” One hand gripped Misha’s hip as his other tentatively grabbed his ass, sliding his slicked fingers towards the other man’s hole. He circled it, rubbing, eliciting a gasp, before slowly pushing a finger into him. Misha bucked up towards him. “You like that, huh?” He grinned and pressed in a little more, moving around some to ready him.
“Nngh, yeah. Please, fuck me, J-Dean.” He thrust up his hips again in frustration as Dean began to pull away.
Dean slicked his much-too-excited cock, and Misha turned over to watch, sprawling himself out on the couch. “Just a second.”
I’m about to fuck Cas. I mean fake Cas. Cas and I aren’t-we’ve never. We’re not… But how often would an opportunity like this arise?
He knelt between Misha’s thighs, the man’s dick hard and fucking perfect. Dean gave it a few strokes and Misha’s hips raised up towards him. He looked up from the actor’s hips to his gaze, filled with lust, but still those fucking blue fucking amazing eyes. He kept his eyes locked with Misha’s as he situated himself above the other man’s body, hips bowing down to ready himself at his ass. He slid in and Misha’s eyes rolled up, closing, mouth open, neck arching back towards the cushions.
The image alone was enough for Dean to have trouble continuing, not to mention the tight heat surrounding him. He thrust into the man who so resembled his angel, fucking him more gently than he probably needed to since he wasn’t the virgin that Cas was. But he was fucking beautiful.
“Nh, harder. Please,” Misha groaned, hands grasping Dean’s shoulders, unintentionally gripping Cas’s mark.
Dean’s eyes shut tight as he slammed into him, each thrust granting him a little noise from the man below him, so he must’ve been doing something right. Misha’s legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, forcing him to fuck deeper. He opened his eyes to see that blue staring back at him, desperate for him.
Supporting himself with his elbow, he reached his hand down between their bodies. He grabbed the other man’s cock and was met with a muffled groan as Misha bit his lip, bucking towards his hand and onto his dick.
“Fuck, Cas,” he gritted out as he continued to both fuck and stroke him, Misha’s arms slipping around his neck, pulling his mouth to the other man’s. The lips meeting his were soft but they pressed hard into his, prying his mouth open, tongue tangling with his own.
The mouth pulled off of his. “I’m so close, Jen-I mean, Dean.” The voice was so filled with desire, begging for more from him, desperate for him.
“Me, too,” his breathing heavy, he paused for only a second before quickening his speed, fucking fake Cas hard and fast, so close, still stroking the other man’s dick with increasing rapidity, so ready to come, and when Misha’s fingernails dug into his back, ass squeezing his dick, hot wetness shooting between them. “Cas, fuck, I’m-” and that was it, he was coming inside of him, filling him up.
He panted, moving his sticky hand up, repositioning himself so that his other arm was freed and he was out of the man below him. Dean rested his forehead against Misha’s, clean hand gripping the man’s shoulder. “That…was pretty awesome, right?” he smiled weakly, afterglow setting in. He moved his head again to place it on Misha’s shoulder.
“That,” he kissed Dean’s neck, “was perfect, my Dean.” Misha closed his eyes, sighing.
Now that the sex was over, Dean wondered exactly what he had done and what kind of relationship fake him and fake Cas had. Panic began to set in as he realized what it might mean for him and Cas, but, no, this wasn’t Cas, he couldn’t think that way. This fake Cas guy, he threw himself at Dean, what else could he have done except fuck him that very minute?
His thoughts were interrupted as the body below him shifted, attempting to look at his face and get his attention. “Yeah?” Dean replied to the questioning gaze.
“Clean up time?”
They made their way to a tiny shower, Dean grabbing his clothes to bring along and setting them nearby. After they were mostly clean, Dean turned towards the water again, and arms looped around his waist.
Misha rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I love you, Jen.”
Dean froze for a moment before responding. “I, uh, I…love you, too…Mish.” No point in ruining this for fake Cas right now.
They dried off and Dean dressed as fast as he could, Misha taking his time. Dean now began to worry about why his brother hadn’t returned yet, although very grateful that he wouldn’t be having to explain what had happened.
Misha, finally dressed, kissed him. “Well, I’m off to do a scene with Sebastian, try not to get too jealous.” With a wink and a turn, he was gone, and Dean was left to wait.
Waiting very quickly turned into trying to remember fake Sam’s name so that he could call him. Over and over again. With no answer. He rushed out the door only to nearly crash into his brother.
“Whoa, dude. Chill,” Sam raised his hands up, phone in one, to prevent being run into. “I think I have some information.”
Dean nodded, “Alright. Whatcha got?”
His younger brother looked at him skeptically, “Are you okay?”
“Great. Never better.” He didn’t sound convincing. “Uh, you know, just that we’re in bizarro world. Jensen, what a weird fucking name.”
“Uh…huh.” Sam was still staring at him.
He tried smiling, “Hey, uh, don’t Jensen and Misha sound like gay eastern European porn star names or something?”
Eyebrows still raised and knit, “I guess. Um. What exactly did you do while I was gone?”
Dean looked a little panicked, but tried to regain his composure. He shrugged, “I was checking to see if they had the same porn.”
“Right.” Why didn’t Sam ever believe him?