FIC: A Multi-Panel Love Story (Part II)
Title: A Multi-Panel Love Story
Author: blue_fjords
Summary: Jensen's days are spent doting on his son and working on his graphic novel series with his best friend, Jared. Life's cool, but something could make it a whole lot better. Or make that someone.
Continued from Part One here.
The good thing about going into business with your best friend was that you were in business with your best friend. When Jensen turned up at the house clutching the lion mask and looking like he'd been run over by a train, Jared closed his sketch book for the day, told Harrison he was getting a special treat and could watch cartoons in the afternoon, and sat Jensen down at the kitchen table with a bottle of beer.
"Spill," he said.
Jensen peeled the label off his bottle of beer and tore it into four neat pieces while Jared waited patiently. When Jensen reached for Jared's beer to do the same thing, Jared dropped the patient façade.
"Enough, man! What the fuck happened?"
"He broke up with me. I fucked it up, and he broke up with me. But he's just so -" His fingers clenched around his beer bottle, and he shoved back from the table. "And I can't do a heart-to-heart about this right now."
He got into the shower and turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, and let it pound against his shoulders and chest and disguise the tears he was too ashamed to let even Jared see. He had totally fucked it up. But damn Misha for having an ex! He ignored the irrationality of the thought, and instead pictured Misha running back into his classroom, distraught and weeping, only to have Blondie sweep him up and carry him away. Never mind that Misha would never run anywhere distraught and weeping, and never mind that he discovered (too late) that he did rather trust Misha. And Misha was right in his assessment of Jensen, too, and damn him for being right! Jensen soaked up each detail of Misha's life that he divulged, painting a picture in his mind of who Misha was, getting comfortable with his unpredictability. He knew who Misha was, but he didn't show Misha the same courtesy and allow him a full portrait of Jensen.
His fingers were prune-y by the time he got out of the shower.
The weekend was interminable. Harrison went off, excited, to his slumber party and instead of having a slumber party of his own, Jensen got drunk and watched black-and-white screwball comedies and typed an entire chapter of The Ninth Circle that they would have to throw away because it was clearly written by an insane freak who'd been recently dumped by his boyfriend.
When Monday morning rolled around, it was Jared who walked Harrison to school, and Jared who picked him up at noon. Jensen hid out in the studio, trying to rework the ramblings he'd made on Saturday night until Harrison got home from school.
"Daddy! Daddy! Guess what?" Harrison practically flew down the hallway, catching himself on Jensen's knees.
"Um," Jensen wracked his brain. Surely Misha hadn't let anything slip? "You're being promoted to Kid Advisor to the President and your first order of business will be mandatory Batman cartoon-watching in schools?"
"No, silly! We got our roles for the holiday pageant today!" Harrison shrieked.
"Wow!" Jensen enthused, relieved.
"Misha's probably cast him as sheep dung," Jared muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jensen to hear.
"Not everyone's as petty as you," Jensen muttered back. "What's your role?" he asked, raising his voice.
"Kentucky! I'm going to be Kentucky!"
"Wow, that's…the entire state?" Jensen asked.
"You sure you got that right?" Jarred asked, reaching down and ruffling Harrison's hair.
"Not my hair!" Harrison howled. Jensen rolled his eyes. He knew where his son got that from. "Everyone is a state. We're being 'Home for the Holidays' and there are fifty kindergarteners so we're going to be America!" Harrison brandished a signed letter, flapping it in front of Jensen's face. His stomach flipped at the familiar signature at the bottom. Get a fucking grip.
Dear Kindergarten Parent,
Happy Holidays! After the resounding success of last year's school-wide five-hour pageant, the rest of the elementary school grades requested that kindergarten get its own day to shine. Our pageant will be Monday, December 20, and the four kindergarten teachers are taking it as our special mission to keep the show to under an hour. Our theme for the pageant is 'Home for the Holidays.' To that effect, your child has been assigned a state. Each child is to look up a holiday story from their state and present it as part of the pageant. State-appropriate or holiday garb is encouraged for a costume. A variety of holiday-themed songs will also be performed by the kids. Please let Mr. Misha or Ms. Diane know if you would like to help with costumes. A reception with punch and cookies will follow. The festivities will commence at 6:00 PM.
Please call Mr. Misha at KL5-6969 if you have any questions. We'll be in touch!
Happy Holidays,
Misha Collins, Diane Widas, Julie Siege, Kurt Fuller
"A special holiday story?" Jared wondered out loud, reading over Jensen's shoulder. "What do they have in Kentucky? Bourbon, fried chicken and horses? Sounds like my kind of holiday story."
"I'm sure Kentucky is chock full of holiday tales," Jensen murmured.
"We can ask Mrs. Internet!" Harrison cried.
"Yeah, she knows everything," Jared agreed, grinning.
Jensen pulled Harrison up onto his lap and maximized his open browser tab. Harrison's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he painstakingly typed K-E-N-T-U-C-K-Y into Google. Jensen added "holiday story" and squinted at the results.
"The dude who wrote 'I Wonder as I Wander' was from Kentucky," he said, glancing up at Jared. "Are we allowed to do religious stuff? This is a public school."
"It has lots of 'w's," Harrison said, placing his fingers on the screen.
Jensen and Jared exchanged a glance. Jared was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
"Okay," Jensen said. "We don't have to decide right away. Why don't you help me get ready for Card Night, huh, little man?" he asked, kissing the top of Harrison's head.
They hadn't had Card Night in a month, as the other three players were all in a band, and the band was touring. They were back home now, though, and Jensen would be hosting Kane, Jason and Steve (and Jared) that night for poker, hearts and a lot of chewing the fat. Harrison loved Card Night, because it meant potato chips and three of his daddy's friends to bring him presents. Jared loved Card Night because it meant potato chips and imported beer. Jensen loved Card Night because it meant potato chips and seeing his posse. He was especially looking forward to it this time, needing a distraction from his moping over Misha.
However, that was a bit of a vain hope, as Jason led off the evening with asking how things were going with the Mysterious M, his attempt at subtlety, considering Harrison was sitting at their feet, pushing around his new toy cars. Jensen glared at Jared and the other man winced.
"Uh, couple of things have changed since we talked about that, dude," Jared hedged.
"He dumped me," Jensen said flatly. "Who's dealing first?"
Steve wordlessly picked up the deck of cards and started to shuffle.
"I could set you up with someone," Jason offered tentatively.
Jensen sighed. "No offense, Jason, but you know that whole the-only-two-gay-characters-the-straight-dude-knows-get-together-in-the-end thing only works in the movies, right?"
"I know more than two gay dudes," Jason muttered. "What about Jeff?"
"Uh, Jeff who's married to a woman?" Jared asked with raised brows.
Jason frowned and looked down at his cards. "I forgot that happened, actually."
Steve snorted. "Pass to the right," he said, giving himself the final card.
Jensen surveyed his hand. He had crap cards. Awesome. He chose out his absolute worst cards and passed them over to Jason and retrieved his offering from Jared. Jared must have still felt guilty over the Mysterious M debacle, and gave him low hearts.
"We toured with this band, and I think you'd hit it off with one of them. Rob. He's gay, right?" Jason continued, like a dog with a bone.
"Dude. You suck at this." Kane threw his cards down on the table in disgust and pointed his finger across at Jason. "Rob? Also married to a fucking woman. Fucking pay attention, man. Can we fucking play cards now?"
"Daddy, Uncle Christian said the F-word three times!" Harrison exclaimed, his cars temporarily abandoned in light of the verbal pyrotechnics at the card table.
"That I did, little man. It shows a gross lack of imagination on my part. Please forgive my impertinent behavior." Kane held out his hand to Harrison, who came over and shook it solemnly.
"It's okay, Uncle Christian. Uncle Jared said the D-word four times yesterday."
Jared snorted his beer, Steve laughed at him, and the rest of the night passed with no further attempts to set Jensen up with straight, married men. Jensen carried Harrison to bed a little past his bedtime before returning to the kitchen to deal with the remains of the bags of potato chips. By eating them.
He thought of Misha in his shower before bed. He was resigned to the fact that memories of Misha would keep creeping up. He just wished they would stop being so horribly devastating soon. Each time he crawled into bed alone, he was reminded of the fact that it was due to his own stubbornness and inability to let people in that he wasn't joined by a man with laughing blue eyes and messy dark hair. Only in his dreams.
He fell into a fitful sleep, and dreamed of chips instead of Misha, much to his disgruntlement.
"Dad-dyyyyyyy." A little hand patted his cheek. Jensen groggily raised his head and peered around his dark bedroom. Harrison's eyes blinked back at him, peering over the mattress.
"What's up, little man?" Jensen asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
"I don't feel gooooooood," his son whined. Jensen stretched out a hand and laid it against Harrison's forehead. It was on fire. Jensen was out of bed in point-two seconds, snatching up his son and bringing him into the bathroom.
"Okay, fever. What else hurts, love? Are you ache-y? How's your throat? Your tummy?" He sat Harrison down on the closed toilet lid and opened up the medicine cabinet. He had everything arranged by symptom, from head to toes.
"Everything hurts!" Harrison wailed, and started to cry.
"It's okay, it's okay," Jensen murmured, grabbing the Children's Tylenol and picking his son back up. He carried a sobbing Harrison into the kitchen, pulled out a juice box and brought him into the living room and their rocking chair.
"Here, baby, take this pill and drink this juice. I'm going to get a cold cloth for your forehead, okay? I'll be right back. Can you do that?"
Harrison nodded bravely, tears dripping down his chin, and Jensen waited until the pill was safely swallowed before rushing back to the bathroom for a washcloth that he soaked beneath frigid water.
He rocked his son off-and-on throughout the night, exchanging the washcloth twice. Harrison slept fitfully, and the next morning they were both groggy and dull and Harrison still had a fever, though less than before. Jensen tucked his son into his own bed before retreating to the living room to make a call. He picked up his phone and took a deep breath. He hadn't talked to Misha since their blow-up. He scowled at the number. Are you a grown-ass man, or a twelve-year-old with broken hearts on your Trapper Keeper? He hit the screen.
The phone rang four times before an unknown female voice answered.
"Misha's phone," she slurred, voice thick with sleep. Jensen's stomach lurched and his throat closed up. Is this your idea of an ex, Misha? "Hello? Who's calling?"
"Uh." He cleared his throat. "This is the parent of a student in Mr. Collins' class. Please let him know that Harrison Ackles will be out sick today. Thank you."
"Okay, Harry Ackles -"
"Harri-son," he snapped. "Sorry. He doesn't go by Harry," he continued, trying to smooth his voice. He needed to get off the phone now. "Thank you for your help, ma'am. Goodbye."
He barely resisted cutting off her own 'goodbye' and threw the phone into the couch cushions. He might be a closed-off, reticent bastard, but he had at least tried to let Misha into his life, and he never let strangers in, it was a stupid, stupid thing to do. Everything that had happened was his own damn fault. He pounded the cushions with his fists. His own damn fault! Pound!
"Dude! Couch abuse!"
Jensen turned with a snarl. For such a huge man, Jared could be a fucking stealth ninja when he chose.
"What?" he demanded.
"Whoa." Jared held up his hands and backed away. "I was just going to do you a favor and walk Harrison to school. But if you want to go like that, by all means, don't let me stop you."
Jensen looked down at his sweaty, snotty t-shirt and flannel pants. "Harrison's sick. He's not going in today."
Jared's whole demeanor changed. "The little man's down for the count? Dude, I'm sorry."
"He's got a fever that's close to breaking," Jensen mumbled, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I already called to say he wouldn't be at school today. It's the last day before the Thanksgiving break; I doubt he'll miss anything important."
"Yeah, today will be a total goof-off day," Jared said, nodding. "Wait. Are you still flying to Texas tomorrow?"
Jensen sighed. "I should talk to the doctor."
"Okay." Jared hesitated, and Jensen could practically see the gears turning in his head. "So, um, when you called, who did you talk -"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah, sure, man." Jared was giving him that look he'd learned from the one episode of Oprah he'd watched with an ex-girlfriend. Jensen had to nip that in the bud right away.
"I'm fine, Jared. Just tired. Up all night with a sick kid, remember?"
"Right."
Harrison's fever hadn't broke by the time Jensen got out of the shower, so he bundled up his son and brought him to the doctor. Two hours and a trip to the pharmacy later, Jensen had a monstrous headache and his throat was starting to hurt. Harrison's fever broke late that evening, and Jensen's fever started. By the time the next morning rolled around, he knew there was no way he and his son would be able to catch their noon plane to Texas. No Mama and Papa Ackles, no hanging out with his brother and sister and new brother-in-law, no awesome turkey. No Texas.
He and Harrison were cuddled up together on the couch watching Christmas cartoons when Jared and his little sister came in, carrying grocery bags.
"Oooh! 'Let up a little on the wonder why, and give your heart a try,'" Jared warbled along with Father Mouse on the TV.
"Gag him, Megan," Jensen croaked. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We're going to have Thanksgiving here tomorrow," Megan declared. "Instead of going out to eat. Since y'all are stranded in California." She walked over to the couch and kissed Harrison on the forehead. "And I've been trying to get him to shut up since I was born," she told Jensen in a low voice. "Hasn't worked yet."
"Did you bring me a present?" Harrison asked.
"Your present is the joy of Megan's company," Jared told him. "And some throat lozenges. Cherry flavor. Now shove over, squirt, I'm sending your daddy to bed. I'm going to rot my brain with you while Megan gets to work in the kitchen."
"You got that mixed up, big brother." Megan pushed him towards the kitchen while Harrison erupted in giggles. Jensen left them mock-arguing over who would have to peel the sweet potatoes. He felt incredibly warm, and not just from the fever. Jared and his little sister always went somewhere fancy for Thanksgiving whenever they couldn't make it home for the holiday. He was lucky to have friends that would eat their own cooking, just so his son wouldn't have a shitty holiday.
Their plane would have been touching down in Texas right about now. His parents would have been waiting at the gate. His mother had sounded so disappointed on the phone, though they were planning to come to California at Christmas. Just last week, Jensen had entertained a fantasy of waking up Christmas morning with Misha beside him, cooking Christmas breakfast while his father and Misha had a friendly debate over politics and his mother and Harrison added batteries to new toys. Misha would probably be spending the holiday with his non-ex-girlfriend, instead.
He fell into a feverish doze and woke up when the bed dipped with Jared's weight.
"I hate peeling sweet potatoes," Jared grumbled. "Only for you, man."
"I 'preciate it," Jensen mumbled.
"We're spending the night here, by the way. If you feel half as shitty as you look, Harrison's going to have his hands full nursing you."
Jensen felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "I love you," he sniffed.
"Whoa, man, are you high?"
"No, you moron, I'm thankful that you care. Dumbass."
"Good. I love you, too, loser." The mattress shifted again, and then Jared was stretched out beside him, hands behind his head. He let out a loud sigh. "Are you ever going to tell me what exactly happened with Misha?"
"I walked in on him and his ex-girlfriend," Jensen said in a rush. "He said she was just dropping shit off and it was a goodbye kiss. I was jealous. He asked if I trusted him. I hesitated. And he accused me of wanting a boyfriend, but not wanting to be one in return."
Jared was silent for a moment.
"Misha's bi?" he asked finally.
"Yes. Didn't I tell you that before?"
"Dude, I would've remembered. Anyhow," Jared continued, "that last bit. Do you still not want to be a boyfriend?"
"I never didn't want to be his boyfriend. I just suck at it." He nudged Jared with his elbow. "I don't even tell you this kind of shit unless I'm feverish and on drugs."
Jared shifted on the bed so he was leaning on an elbow, looking down at Jensen. "Maybe you should reconsider that modus operandi, dude. What would you tell him, if you got a second chance?"
Jensen sighed. "I'd tell him that I want him back. I'm pissed as hell to think he might already be with someone else when he should be with me. Fuck. And that I was sorry for being an emotional freezer, and I'd try to be, you know, better, in the future."
"Well, that's a start." He leaned forward and kissed Jensen's forehead. "Now go to sleep, you look like shit."
***
Jensen woke up several times that night, sweaty and disoriented and needing to pee. His fever finally broke around 6:00 the next morning, and he fell into an exhausted sleep. The smell of roasting turkey woke him at noon, and he laid in bed, breathing in the scent and listening to Harrison's chirruping voice from the kitchen, answered by Jared's rumbling bass and Megan's light, amused tone. He was just considering getting into the shower when his doorbell rang. He frowned. He was home, Harrison was, too, and Jared. Who could possibly be coming over on Thanksgiving? They weren't even supposed to be there themselves.
"Mr. Misha!" he heard Harrison shriek in greeting. "Mr. Misha, Mr. Misha, Mr. - who's that?"
Oh my God. He brought her here. He struggled out of his blankets and threw on a robe.
They were all in the entryway; Jared and Megan in stained aprons, Misha kneeling down to hug Harrison, and…a female version of Misha hanging back by the door. Jensen did a double-take.
"What…?" he croaked out. God, his voice sounded like ass.
Misha ignored him. "Harrison, this is my little sister. Jared said it was a Little Sister Thanksgiving, so I had to rustle one up." He finally looked up at Jensen. "Jensen, you look terrible."
Jensen stared down at him. It'd been almost a week since they'd seen each other, and seeing him now was like a punch to the gut. He stumbled back into his room and shut the door. He could hear murmurings through the door, but he fell across his bed and ignored them.
There was a knock at the door a moment later, and Misha slipped inside his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. The silence stretched between them. Finally Jensen cleared his throat.
"You're not with your ex?"
"Definition of ex, Jen. As in no more." Misha's voice was surprisingly neutral. Jensen blinked. Damn sickness was making his eyes water.
"I'm," he started, stopped, then tried again. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me a story," Misha said. "Tell me something true about yourself that isn't really about Harrison or Jared."
Jensen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Harrison wants to get a dog. This isn't a story about Harrison!" he added hurriedly. "But it's why I don't want to get us a dog." He cracked open an eyelid. Misha was still there. Good. He shut his eyes again. "When I was a kid, I had this dog, Pepper Jack. He was the best dog ever, a Jack Russell Terrier-German Shepherd-lots of other stuff mix. He used to greet me at the door each day when I got home from school, and he'd sleep in my room at night. We had a fenced-in backyard, and Pepper Jack loved playing in it. One day I left to go to a friend's house to play, and I forgot to shut the gate." His voice was scratchy and hoarse, and getting gruffer by the minute. "Pepper Jack ran away. We searched everywhere for him, put up signs, called the pound and two days later, we got a call back. Pepper Jack had been hit by a car and was dead." He cleared his throat roughly. "I went with my dad to get the body. He looked so damn small. He left me, and it was my fault, and he died."
The bed dipped beside him, and when Misha spoke, his breath tickled Jensen's ear. "I can't believe your dead dog from when you were a kid sums up your views of adult relationships."
Jensen's eyes flew open. "What?! No it doesn't. That's why I don't want to get a dog."
"Which would be a commitment, which you don't want to make because you're just so sure it will end badly. Dammit, Jensen, now I'm sounding like that guy on TV who gives relationship advice, and I do not want to sound like him. He's an ass."
"I can't believe you got that from my story," Jensen said, shaking his head.
"Hey. Look at me." Misha waited until Jensen had rolled onto his side and faced him. Jensen's eyes roamed the other man's face, looking for some hint of what was going to happen next, some evidence of what their separation had cost him. Misha looked tired, bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin, and more solemn than usual. It looked good on him. "I don't like to be tied down," he said bluntly. "And neither do you. But I think I'm right in saying that you want this thing between us to work. Am I right?"
Jensen reached out his hand and cupped Misha's chin, ran his thumb over the stubble. "You're right."
Misha gave him a small smile and pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. "Good. I like being right." His grin grew wider as Jensen began to smile himself. "And I missed you," he confessed. "My poor sister thought her brother had been replaced with a troll." He leaned closer, moving in to kiss Jensen on the lips.
"Whoa, you don't want to catch what I just had." Jensen pulled away hurriedly, sitting up.
"I forgot that's why you greeted us in such a fetching outfit." He stood up and stretched. "Go shower, while I go rescue dinner from the fumblings of the Padalecki clan."
"Good luck with that," Jensen muttered. "Jared's screwed up boiling water before."
"Lovely." Misha laid a hand on his shoulder as Jensen moved past him to the bathroom. "We'll talk more tonight?"
"Yes." He thought he detected a hint of relief in Misha's answering smile.
And they did talk again, later that night. After the meal had been consumed (the turkey not too dry, the potatoes not too lumpy) and the dishes had been done and Harrison had been treated to several stories (read to him by the Little Sisters, as they were new and exciting to him), and after Jared and Megan had left, leaving the Collins family to keep an eye on the recovering Ackles family. In halting speech, Jensen told Misha about what he and Harrison would have been doing for Thanksgiving, who they would have seen, the games they would have played. And Misha listened, and drank in his words.
And when Misha pushed him back into the pillows and wrapped his body around him, Jensen had to admit this whole sharing thing definitely had its perks.
***
It couldn't solve everything, of course. Misha had mercurial mood shifts and an appreciation for what Jensen termed "extreme spontaneity," which, though he benefited from it a great many times, could still leave him shaking his head in consternation. And Jensen himself was not going to suddenly just stop his tendency to withdraw into himself. But he was trying, and it counted for a great deal.
As the days ticked down towards Christmas and Harrison eagerly opened the windows on his Advent calendar to liberate the chocolates inside, Jensen found something new to worry about: Christmas itself. It was a big fucking deal, and though he may have entertained a daydream or two of sharing the holiday with both his family and Misha, the fact remained that his parents hadn't met a single one of his boyfriends since college. Not to mention that he still wasn't sure if he and Misha were on solid enough ground to warrant a major holiday spent with parents, or even if Misha wanted to stay in town for it.
Things came to a head in bed. Misha was in a teasing mood, inspired by sugarplum lube, which Jensen thought was the most ridiculous shit ever, but he wasn't complaining when Misha used it on two fingers and repeatedly stroked his prostate.
"So tell me, Jensen: are there visions of sugarplums dancing in your head right now?" Misha asked, eyes bright and dancing across Jensen's writhing body.
"Nnnnnn gaaaaaarrrrrr," Jensen managed.
"That's what I thought." Misha grinned widely, nose crinkling, a look that sent an immediate jolt of desire up Jensen's already hard cock.
"Unfffffff," he mumbled, heels digging for purchase in the sweaty sheets, trying not to thrust up into the empty air, but dammit, Misha needed to do something about his cock, and fast.
"Did I tell you I also bought festive chapstick?" Misha asked, glancing at Jensen's leaking cock and pressing especially hard on his prostate. "I wonder…"
Jensen gasped as cool peppermint lips closed over his heated skin. It fucking tingled, and it didn't help that Misha was laughing at him, a look of such fondness in his eyes that Jensen forgot to breathe for a moment. Then Misha pulled almost entirely off his cock, sucking hard on the head, his fingers still milking his prostate, and this was going to be the fastest blow job ever because there was no way he was going to survive this.
He reached blindly for a pillow, held it to his face, and screamed into it as he came.
Misha carefully pulled out his fingers, wiping them on the sheet, and pressed a gentle kiss to the tender skin between Jensen's hipbone and the start of his thigh.
"Ah, God, I fucking love you," Jensen said, unthinking, voice muffled by the pillow. And froze, eyes opening wider and wider. Misha crawled up his body and snatched the pillow away.
"I heard that! No take-backs, that would be rude, and Texas boys are never rude. You just said, you just said -"
Jensen cut off his babbling by kissing him. The weird thing was, he did actually mean it. He rolled them over and broke the kiss, looking down into Misha's flushed face, his wide blue eyes wanting to believe, but ready to be hooded, ready to laugh it off, just in case.
"Yeah, I meant it," Jensen said. He settled himself between Misha's legs and began to nuzzle at Misha's neck, kissing and sucking as he snaked a hand between them and gripped Misha's cock. Misha whimpered, his hands coming up to tangle his fingers in Jensen's hair. Jensen felt a laugh building inside of him. He had reduced Misha to low moans and panting breaths - finally, he had hit on what could leave Misha Collins speechless. He ran his hand up and down the other man's cock, tugging, squeezing and caressing while he proceeded to give him the biggest hickey ever attempted.
Finally he pulled off Misha's neck and just watched his face, storing up in his memories Misha's face in blissed-out pleasure, the trembling of his lips, the sweaty curls of hair on his forehead, the crinkle in his nose and the noise he made when Jensen ran his thumb over the slit in his cock and gave it one more tug, whispering, "Come on, Misha."
And Misha did, gasping and shuddering. He looked beautiful, and Jensen had to wonder at himself for not realizing earlier that he was in love with and loved Misha. God, he was such a sap for Misha. His hand was sticky with come and he was waxing poetic on the beauty of Misha's face. And neck, and chest, and…
Misha pulled him down across his slightly damp chest and kissed him thoroughly. "I love you, too," he murmured, voice gruff and a little choked-up. Jensen smiled. Good to know he wasn't the only sap.
Tired saps, as they both fell asleep in between slow kisses.
***
"Saturday morning cartoons!! Get up, Dad, get up!"
Jensen jerked awake as Harrison came screeching into his room, stopping in shock and falling onto his Spider-Man-clad bum.
"Mr. Misha?!"
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
"Uh, Harrison -" he started, just as Misha led with, "Good morning, Harrison" in a sleep-fugged voice.
Jensen and Misha exchanged a look.
"Little man, give us a minute, why don't you choose the cereal you want for today, and Mr. Misha and I will talk to you in the kitchen, okay?" Jensen gave his son an encouraging nod, hoping he was in an obeying mood.
"Are you guys boyfriends now?" Harrison asked excitedly. "Is Mr. Misha going to live with us? Is he going to spend Christmas with us? What should I get him for Christmas? Do you -"
"Harrison!" Jensen interrupted, groaning. "Please. Go into the kitchen. We'll be right there and will answer your questions, I promise."
Harrison's eyes darted between his dad and his teacher. "Okay," he decided. "And I'm having Lucky Charms!" he added defiantly. He marched on his little feet out of the room.
Misha was quiet as Jensen threw off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom. He needed to pee like a race horse.
"You don't have to promise Harrison anything," Misha said softly.
Jensen had not been planning to have this conversation with the sound of his piss in the background, but when life handed you lemons, and so on and so forth…
"I was already wondering what you were doing for Christmas. We hadn't mentioned it." He shook off the last few drops of piss and washed his hands. "My parents are going to be here. Is that…too much?" He stepped back out into the bedroom. Misha already had his jeans on, and he sat on the edge of the bed, one of Jensen's old t-shirts in his hands.
Jensen was acutely aware that he was butt-naked as Misha pursed his lips and frowned up at him. "Is this your way of asking me over for Christmas?"
Jensen padded over to his bureau and fished out a clean pair of boxer-briefs. "Yeah," he grunted. "If you want. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, the works. With added parents."
"ARE YOU ALMOST READY?!" sounded from down the hall.
"God, Harrison," Jensen muttered. "HOLD YOUR HORSES!" he bellowed back, scooping out a t-shirt. Dammit, Misha hadn't said a thing. He'd come on too strong, he'd screwed it up already.
Misha caught his hand and gave it a light squeeze as he made to slip out the door, his other hand cupping Jensen's cheek and turning his head to face him. "Jensen. Thank you." He kissed him lightly on the lips, then slapped his ass. "Now move."
Jensen knew he had a silly grin on his face when he walked into the kitchen, and not even the spilled Lucky Charms could detract from his good mood. Harrison watched intently as they joined him at the kitchen table.
"Harrison," Jensen began, "first off, we both love you very much." Yes, he had researched online the best way to tell your kids you were seeing someone seriously. He liked being prepared.
Misha, however, liked cutting to the point. "Do you want me to come for Christmas, Harrison?" he asked, leaning forward. Harrison leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. Jensen watched, bemused.
"Yes. And I want a new lion mask for Christmas. Someone stepped on my old one."
"Thanks for telling me. I want socks."
"Okay. Do you love my Daddy?"
Jensen made a soft noise in the back of his throat.
"Yes," Misha said.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to leave?"
"I'm not planning on it. Do I get to ask a question?"
Harrison scrunched his face in concentration. "Okay."
"What cartoons are you watching this morning?"
"Christmas ones!" Harrison exclaimed, leaping from his chair, almost knocking it over. "Come on, Mr. Misha!" He grabbed Misha's hand and began to pull him towards the living room.
Misha shot a grin over his shoulder as he allowed himself to run with the excitement of the five-year-old. Jensen looked around at his cereal-strewn kitchen, listening to the prattle from the living room. He had a sudden suspicion it was going to be like that a lot from now on. He righted the box of Lucky Charms and closed it up.
"Daddy! Come sit with us!" Harrison called from the couch.
The three of them were still cuddled up on the couch, singing along with Mr. Heat Meiser, when Jared walked in.
"Little Dude! You're still in your jammies! Hop to it, Harrison!" His eyes narrowed as he took in the others' various states of undress. Jensen could practically see him adding two and two in his head, but Harrison opened his mouth before he could say anything.
"Uncle Jared! Guess what! Daddy and Mr. Misha love each other!"
Jensen didn't think Jared was ever going to stop laughing. Only Harrison pouting and finally running from the room put an end to the guffaws. Jensen threw a pillow at him.
"Bang up job, meathead. Now you've scarred the squirt for life."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Jared hiccupped, wiping at his eyes. "I would never mock your love! It's pure and beautiful!" He got a hold of himself with some difficulty. "And seriously, guys, I'm, uh, happy for you."
"Thank you, Jared," Misha told him. "I promise to keep Jensen in bonbons and silks forever, and I will never leave him barefoot and pregnant. Especially not without calling National Geographic first."
"Golly, that's real sweet of you." Jensen rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling. Gah, he'd been infected with a case of dumbass grins ever since Misha told him he loved him; it was disgusting. "What are you doing here this early on a Saturday, anyhow?"
"Christmas shopping. Harrison has to pick out a present for you. And speaking of which," Jared glanced down the hall. "I better go do some damage control." He left with a strange hand-wave thing that Jensen could only assume was his attempt at offering a blessing. Dorkface.
"I should probably get going, too," Misha said, standing up and stretching. "I need to work on my costume for the Holiday Pageant, as it will now need to include a turtleneck."
Jensen's eyes went to the large red and purple hickey on his neck. He felt a wave of fondness for it. It was a good hickey. And it said very clearly: keep your fucking hands off this one, he belongs to Jensen Ackles. Good times.
They were still kissing goodbye when Jared and Harrison came back down the hall. Jared immediately clamped a hand over Harrison's eyes.
"Ow! Uncle Jared, what's going on?"
"We lost power! It's the Apocalypse! Quick, Harrison, we need to save the canned beans!"
Jensen gave him a dirty look and kissed Misha once more, just because he could. Jared steered Harrison to the door, and Jensen could hear his son's little piping voice as they tripped down the walkway, "But I don't like canned beans!"
***
The next day was the dress rehearsal for the Holiday Pageant. Harrison adored his costume. He'd chosen "Jack Hunts Christmas" as his holiday tale, because there was a big white bear in it, and bears were almost as cool as lions. Jensen liked it because a bear costume was relatively easy to make. He bought a pair of plain white long underwear and a couple feet of fuzzy white material from the fabric store. Alona had given him some double sided tape she used sometimes when shooting commercials. Anything that didn't involve needles and sewing was good in Jensen's book, and he went to town covering the long underwear with fuzzy fake fur. He'd found bear paw mittens, and bear paw slippers, and even a hood with bear ears. Jared had found a snout in a joke shop, Jensen made a stubby tail out of a leftover scrap of the fake fur, and then they were set.
Almost. The piece de resistance of Harrison's costume was his star. Jensen had fashioned it out of a wire hanger, covered with a midnight blue old t-shirt, which Harrison and Jared had then painted in streaks of shiny glitter paint. It was just the right amount of gaudy for a children's holiday pageant.
They were one of the first families to the school. Harrison skipped inside, followed by Jared with a large box of art supplies, as Misha had convinced him that he really wanted to work on scenery, and Jensen drove off to pick up eight pizzas for the kids and their various adult helpers.
Rehearsal was in full chaos when he returned, and immediately devolved further with the arrival of the pizzas. Jensen managed to snag three slices and saw to it that Harrison wasn't stealing anyone else's pizza, before wandering to join Jared at the back of the stage.
"You seen Misha?" he asked, thrusting a greasy piece of pepperoni pizza at Jared.
"He's around. Can't miss his bullhorn." He ate half his slice in one bite. "Mmrrf yoooth, di ook ike meeer ka?"
Jensen surveyed the backdrop. "Yeah, I think it's good. Texas is a little overlarge, but it's the best state, so who cares?"
"Good. Check out Kentucky." Jared gestured to his massive map of the United States of America, the backdrop for the kindergartners' performance. Jensen stepped closer. Hidden in the mountains was a little creature from The Ninth Circle.
"Nice one. You should sign this thing."
"I did, see?" Jared pointed to the Florida Keys, bumping up against a stylish 'J. Pad.'
"'J. Pad'?" Jensen snorted. "You sound like a feminine hygiene product, or a cheap knock-off IPad." He spotted Misha over the heads of a sea of kids and smiled. "But it looks awesome. You need any help? Else I'm going to take this pizza to Misha…"
"Huh?" Jared was bent over, frowning at the Florida Keys, as if they'd been formed specifically to cramp his style. "Nah, go ahead. Oh, I was supposed to tell you!" he exclaimed, straightening from his crouch as Misha fought his way over to them. "Misha wants to talk to you, he has to tell you something really important."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Thanks, man."
"Does that pizza have my name on it?" Misha asked, a tad breathless as he finally reached them. Jensen handed it over wordlessly, smiling at Misha's costume.
Misha was an angel. A robed in white, halo, wings and little plastic golden harp taped to a bullhorn angel. With a white turtleneck beneath his robes. Jensen smirked. "Love the outfit."
Misha shrugged his shoulders and a scattering of gold glitter fell from his wings to the floor. "Apparently the teachers are always an angel, a Santa, a Hanukkah Armadillo and an abstract beam of light. I drew the angel."
"It suits your sweet nature," Jensen told him, laughing at Misha's attempt to look innocent and sweet. "And the Hanukkah Armadillo? What the hell? That's not a real thing."
"Well, if it was on an episode of Friends, that makes it real." Misha licked tomato sauce off his fingers. Jensen watched with hooded eyes, swallowing hard. "Listen," Misha said, taking his arm and pulling him close. "I need to talk to you after rehearsal. I just got some news…I'd like to discuss with you."
"Yeah, sure," Jensen assured him, trying not to sound panicked. Misha smiled briefly, then raised his bullhorn.
"Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California - front and center!" he called.
Harrison went up with Kansas, Louisiana, Maine and Maryland. Jensen beamed during the entirety of his recitation. His son was clearly the brightest child ever to draw breath on this planet. Misha and Mr. Kurt (the Hanukkah Armadillo) led the combined classes in a rousing rendition of 'Home for the Holidays' and then it was time to leave, and time for Jensen to hear Misha's news, whatever it might be.
His stomach roiled as he dropped Jared off and drove Harrison and himself home. His brain automatically went to the worst possible scenario, and it teased him now, as he helped Harrison bathe and brush his teeth, as he read a chapter out loud from their illustrated copy of 'Miracle on 34th Street.' Worry caused his forehead to crease, and he smoothed it out to give Harrison his good night hug and kiss.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text as he stepped into the hall, drawing Harrison's door closed behind him:
IN THE DRIVEWAY.
Jensen quickly wrenched open the front door to see Misha sitting in his car. He ran down the walk and knocked on the window.
"Harrison's in bed - can you come inside?"
His stomach was doing backflips now. Misha never looked quite this solemn. Jensen sat on the couch when they got inside, but Misha paced.
"Okay," he started. "I got a phone call right before rehearsal. Two phone calls, actually." He stopped and frowned at Jensen. "You look really freaked out. I'm not going to reveal a secret spy identity or anything. It's nothing like that."
Jensen blinked. He hadn't even thought of that! "Dude, just spit it out, okay?"
"That's what I'm planning to do. Though I still have sugarplum lube in my pocket, I could tease you a bit first…"
"Misha!"
"Okay, okay! First call was from Ms. Katie. She doesn't want to come back. She's got a better offer, and she thinks she'll be happier there, so she's leaving our school." He paused, and Jensen's heart leapt. If Ms. Katie wasn't coming back, did that mean…?
"The other call was from Principal Kripke. He offered me the position."
"YESSSSSS!" Jensen whooped. "That's great!" He sprung from the couch and wrapped his arms around Misha. And such a relief from all of the terrible things he had thought. Stupid mind.
He insisted that Misha stay the night with him, and it wasn't until he came with a groan, staring up at Misha's flushed face as Misha rode him into the mattress, that he realized Misha hadn't said whether or not he'd said yes.
He didn't get a chance to ask Misha the next morning, as he'd slipped out early to prepare for the long day and Holiday Pageant. Harrison was giddy with excitement all throughout breakfast, mumbling snippets of his presentation: magic beans, basket that kept filling with food, the big white bear and the star. Misha looked equally distracted when Jensen dropped his son off, and he held his tongue.
"Jared," Jensen asked later that morning, glancing across the studio at his partner, "do you think Misha would want to stay at the school if Ms. Katie didn't come back?"
"Huh? Why wouldn't Ms. Katie come back?" Jared had a smudge of purple ink across his left cheekbone. It made him look incredibly young.
"Say she won the lottery or something; I don't know. Do you think Misha would want to stay?"
"Well, why not? He'd get to hang with Harrison all day, and screw you silly each night - which, no, I don't want any details. But you guys look happy together. Why would he want to leave?"
Jensen nodded slowly.
"What's this about? Do you know something you're not telling me?" Now there were orange drips in his hair.
"I sure as hell hope I do," Jensen replied, and Jared retaliated by starting an eraser war.
But as he fixed lunch later, Jensen got to thinking. Jared's answers were exactly what he or Jared would do. Misha didn't think the same way. Misha appreciated doing new things, not being tied to the same classroom all the time. And if he stayed, ethically, he'd have to divulge his relationship with the parent of one of his students, especially if he eventually moved in with them. Then Harrison would be taken out of his class and placed into another. No, Jensen didn't think Misha had told Kripke yes.
The Holiday Pageant started at 6:00 PM exactly. Misha led the first five states out onto the stage. Arkansas tripped and almost faceplanted, but caught himself just in time. When it came Harrison's turn, Jensen and Jared got a very enthusiastic paw wave before Harrison launched into the story of Jack and his loser brothers, Will and Tom, and how Jack was nice so he got the magic beans, the basket that kept filling with food, and became friends with the big white bear who gave him a star. His son grinned wide enough to split his face in two when Jensen and Jared gave him several wolf whistles apiece.
By the end of the pageant, New Hampshire had forgotten his lines, Utah had accidentally cursed (much to the chagrin of Utah's parents), and Wisconsin had to be led offstage in tears, completely overcome by a bout of stage fright. She joined the other kids to sing 'Home for the Holidays,' her wailing a nice counterpart to "if you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze."
Jensen finally spotted his opportunity to talk to Misha during a lull in the reception.
"Misha," he murmured in the other man's ear. "Meet me in the supply closet in two minutes." He walked away before Misha could protest, touched Jared on the arm and asked for ten more minutes, and ducked into the hall. The school was in its holiday finest, nothing too overt, but boughs of gold tinsel decorated classroom doors decorated like wrapping paper. Misha's door featured polar bears.
"Do you really think we have the time?" Misha asked, slipping into the closet behind him and shutting the door with a snick.
"I just wanted to talk to you alone for a few minutes," Jensen said, turning to look at him. Misha's halo was a little askew, his wings had lost more glitter and his cheeks were flushed from the heat of the gym. For the first time, the older man looked younger, and worried. Jensen had a feeling he knew why, and he had to wipe that worried frown off his face. "Misha," he said, placing his hands on Misha's shoulders, "I understand if you don't want to take this job. It's okay."
Misha let out a shaky sigh. "It is?"
"I know you've really liked it. But I think…I think what you like so much about subbing is the change of scenery and the opportunity to meet new people and learn new things."
Misha was staring at him now. "And you don't think it's terribly irresponsible of me, not to grab the steady job?"
"Well, would you be miserable using these same lesson plans four years down the line?" Jensen already knew the answer to that. A devout "yes!" escaped Misha's lips, and Jensen smiled. "You like teaching. You don't like teaching the same thing over and over again."
Jensen had to admit to himself, he was a little proud of the look of shock on Misha's face, especially when it was replaced by a glorious smile and Misha throwing him up against the door.
"I told Jared I'd be ready to go in ten minutes," he managed to get out between frantic kisses.
"Plenty of time," Misha muttered, sinking to his knees. Jensen grabbed for his hair and came up with the halo, holding on tight as a thoroughly debauched angel with glitter on his cheeks took him into his mouth.
***
Three days later, Jensen left Harrison at home with his newly-arrived parents so he could pick Misha and all of his stuff up from the school after the afternoon bell. It was Misha's final day as Harrison's teacher, and unlike most of the kids, Harrison had not cried. He would be spending Christmas with Mr. Misha, after all, and, if Jensen had his way, that would just be their first Christmas together.
Misha was sitting behind his desk. Jensen had never actually seen him use it, as it wasn't all that practical for teaching five-year-olds. He was bent over some paperwork and must have just recently run his fingers through his hair in frustration, as it stuck up in clumps. His cuffs had been unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, too, and Jensen could just see the hint of tongue poking its way out of the corner of Misha's mouth. In short, he looked utterly delicious.
"Hey, Teach," Jensen called softly from the doorway, and Misha looked up, a weary smile on his face.
"Jensen," he said warmly.
"You look like you could use a distraction." Jensen sauntered into the room in his best Casa Erotica gait. "I've come to fix…whatever equipment our public school system has deemed appropriate for your classroom."
Misha pushed back from the desk, his smile wide now. "I'm afraid I'm sitting on the only equipment Uncle Sam has sprung for."
"Hmmm." He was right in front of Misha now and reached out to push the hair off his forehead and run his knuckle gently down Misha's jawline. "Are you packed?"
Misha laughed. "So much for my distraction! And yes." He gripped Jensen around the waist and pulled him onto the chair. It squeaked alarmingly.
"Pretty soon I will have to fix your fancy equipment," Jensen muttered, adjusting his position. "So what are you working on, or can we leave?"
Misha glanced down at the desk. "Resumes for Ms. Katie's replacement. I went through them and made comments."
"And who's your top pick?" Jensen shifted again and then, oh, hello! That was a good position. He leaned forward slightly and Misha's eyelids fluttered.
"Uh…" he gestured at the desk. "Genevieve Cortese. Sounds like she had a good sense of humor, but won't be pushed around by the kids. You should send Jared by to meet her."
Jensen grinned. "You sure she's a woman?"
"I called her. Woman."
"Okay. Now, no talking about Jared or anyone else for the next ten minutes," Jensen breathed against Misha's neck. He ground his hips slowly down, Misha gasped and sighed, and then they were sprawled on the floor, the chair in pieces.
Misha burst out laughing. "Well. My legacy." He offered Jensen an arm. "Let's continue this someplace else?"
"My parents are at my house already," Jensen sighed, picking up Misha's boxes. The chair? Well, if he knew himself, and he did, better now than before, he'd be sneaking in sometime over the holiday break to fix the damn thing.
Misha threw on his coat, gathered up the pieces of chair, took one last look around the room, and turned off the lights.
"You're keeping that chair?" Jensen asked, waiting as Misha locked the door one final time.
"Nope. But I don't want you to have to break in over break to fix it. This way Jared can fix it, and present it to the new teacher as a 'welcome to our school, my kid doesn't go here but I attend all the events, sometimes dressed as a moose' gift. I think it will go over well."
Jensen had to laugh. "I love you."
"Yes, I know." Misha grinned at him. "Now let's go home so I can meet your parents, and traumatize them by loudly making sweet, sweet love to you tonight."
Jensen grinned back. It was already the best Christmas ever.
Author: blue_fjords
Summary: Jensen's days are spent doting on his son and working on his graphic novel series with his best friend, Jared. Life's cool, but something could make it a whole lot better. Or make that someone.
Continued from Part One here.
The good thing about going into business with your best friend was that you were in business with your best friend. When Jensen turned up at the house clutching the lion mask and looking like he'd been run over by a train, Jared closed his sketch book for the day, told Harrison he was getting a special treat and could watch cartoons in the afternoon, and sat Jensen down at the kitchen table with a bottle of beer.
"Spill," he said.
Jensen peeled the label off his bottle of beer and tore it into four neat pieces while Jared waited patiently. When Jensen reached for Jared's beer to do the same thing, Jared dropped the patient façade.
"Enough, man! What the fuck happened?"
"He broke up with me. I fucked it up, and he broke up with me. But he's just so -" His fingers clenched around his beer bottle, and he shoved back from the table. "And I can't do a heart-to-heart about this right now."
He got into the shower and turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, and let it pound against his shoulders and chest and disguise the tears he was too ashamed to let even Jared see. He had totally fucked it up. But damn Misha for having an ex! He ignored the irrationality of the thought, and instead pictured Misha running back into his classroom, distraught and weeping, only to have Blondie sweep him up and carry him away. Never mind that Misha would never run anywhere distraught and weeping, and never mind that he discovered (too late) that he did rather trust Misha. And Misha was right in his assessment of Jensen, too, and damn him for being right! Jensen soaked up each detail of Misha's life that he divulged, painting a picture in his mind of who Misha was, getting comfortable with his unpredictability. He knew who Misha was, but he didn't show Misha the same courtesy and allow him a full portrait of Jensen.
His fingers were prune-y by the time he got out of the shower.
The weekend was interminable. Harrison went off, excited, to his slumber party and instead of having a slumber party of his own, Jensen got drunk and watched black-and-white screwball comedies and typed an entire chapter of The Ninth Circle that they would have to throw away because it was clearly written by an insane freak who'd been recently dumped by his boyfriend.
When Monday morning rolled around, it was Jared who walked Harrison to school, and Jared who picked him up at noon. Jensen hid out in the studio, trying to rework the ramblings he'd made on Saturday night until Harrison got home from school.
"Daddy! Daddy! Guess what?" Harrison practically flew down the hallway, catching himself on Jensen's knees.
"Um," Jensen wracked his brain. Surely Misha hadn't let anything slip? "You're being promoted to Kid Advisor to the President and your first order of business will be mandatory Batman cartoon-watching in schools?"
"No, silly! We got our roles for the holiday pageant today!" Harrison shrieked.
"Wow!" Jensen enthused, relieved.
"Misha's probably cast him as sheep dung," Jared muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jensen to hear.
"Not everyone's as petty as you," Jensen muttered back. "What's your role?" he asked, raising his voice.
"Kentucky! I'm going to be Kentucky!"
"Wow, that's…the entire state?" Jensen asked.
"You sure you got that right?" Jarred asked, reaching down and ruffling Harrison's hair.
"Not my hair!" Harrison howled. Jensen rolled his eyes. He knew where his son got that from. "Everyone is a state. We're being 'Home for the Holidays' and there are fifty kindergarteners so we're going to be America!" Harrison brandished a signed letter, flapping it in front of Jensen's face. His stomach flipped at the familiar signature at the bottom. Get a fucking grip.
Dear Kindergarten Parent,
Happy Holidays! After the resounding success of last year's school-wide five-hour pageant, the rest of the elementary school grades requested that kindergarten get its own day to shine. Our pageant will be Monday, December 20, and the four kindergarten teachers are taking it as our special mission to keep the show to under an hour. Our theme for the pageant is 'Home for the Holidays.' To that effect, your child has been assigned a state. Each child is to look up a holiday story from their state and present it as part of the pageant. State-appropriate or holiday garb is encouraged for a costume. A variety of holiday-themed songs will also be performed by the kids. Please let Mr. Misha or Ms. Diane know if you would like to help with costumes. A reception with punch and cookies will follow. The festivities will commence at 6:00 PM.
Please call Mr. Misha at KL5-6969 if you have any questions. We'll be in touch!
Happy Holidays,
Misha Collins, Diane Widas, Julie Siege, Kurt Fuller
"A special holiday story?" Jared wondered out loud, reading over Jensen's shoulder. "What do they have in Kentucky? Bourbon, fried chicken and horses? Sounds like my kind of holiday story."
"I'm sure Kentucky is chock full of holiday tales," Jensen murmured.
"We can ask Mrs. Internet!" Harrison cried.
"Yeah, she knows everything," Jared agreed, grinning.
Jensen pulled Harrison up onto his lap and maximized his open browser tab. Harrison's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he painstakingly typed K-E-N-T-U-C-K-Y into Google. Jensen added "holiday story" and squinted at the results.
"The dude who wrote 'I Wonder as I Wander' was from Kentucky," he said, glancing up at Jared. "Are we allowed to do religious stuff? This is a public school."
"It has lots of 'w's," Harrison said, placing his fingers on the screen.
Jensen and Jared exchanged a glance. Jared was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
"Okay," Jensen said. "We don't have to decide right away. Why don't you help me get ready for Card Night, huh, little man?" he asked, kissing the top of Harrison's head.
They hadn't had Card Night in a month, as the other three players were all in a band, and the band was touring. They were back home now, though, and Jensen would be hosting Kane, Jason and Steve (and Jared) that night for poker, hearts and a lot of chewing the fat. Harrison loved Card Night, because it meant potato chips and three of his daddy's friends to bring him presents. Jared loved Card Night because it meant potato chips and imported beer. Jensen loved Card Night because it meant potato chips and seeing his posse. He was especially looking forward to it this time, needing a distraction from his moping over Misha.
However, that was a bit of a vain hope, as Jason led off the evening with asking how things were going with the Mysterious M, his attempt at subtlety, considering Harrison was sitting at their feet, pushing around his new toy cars. Jensen glared at Jared and the other man winced.
"Uh, couple of things have changed since we talked about that, dude," Jared hedged.
"He dumped me," Jensen said flatly. "Who's dealing first?"
Steve wordlessly picked up the deck of cards and started to shuffle.
"I could set you up with someone," Jason offered tentatively.
Jensen sighed. "No offense, Jason, but you know that whole the-only-two-gay-characters-the-straight-dude-knows-get-together-in-the-end thing only works in the movies, right?"
"I know more than two gay dudes," Jason muttered. "What about Jeff?"
"Uh, Jeff who's married to a woman?" Jared asked with raised brows.
Jason frowned and looked down at his cards. "I forgot that happened, actually."
Steve snorted. "Pass to the right," he said, giving himself the final card.
Jensen surveyed his hand. He had crap cards. Awesome. He chose out his absolute worst cards and passed them over to Jason and retrieved his offering from Jared. Jared must have still felt guilty over the Mysterious M debacle, and gave him low hearts.
"We toured with this band, and I think you'd hit it off with one of them. Rob. He's gay, right?" Jason continued, like a dog with a bone.
"Dude. You suck at this." Kane threw his cards down on the table in disgust and pointed his finger across at Jason. "Rob? Also married to a fucking woman. Fucking pay attention, man. Can we fucking play cards now?"
"Daddy, Uncle Christian said the F-word three times!" Harrison exclaimed, his cars temporarily abandoned in light of the verbal pyrotechnics at the card table.
"That I did, little man. It shows a gross lack of imagination on my part. Please forgive my impertinent behavior." Kane held out his hand to Harrison, who came over and shook it solemnly.
"It's okay, Uncle Christian. Uncle Jared said the D-word four times yesterday."
Jared snorted his beer, Steve laughed at him, and the rest of the night passed with no further attempts to set Jensen up with straight, married men. Jensen carried Harrison to bed a little past his bedtime before returning to the kitchen to deal with the remains of the bags of potato chips. By eating them.
He thought of Misha in his shower before bed. He was resigned to the fact that memories of Misha would keep creeping up. He just wished they would stop being so horribly devastating soon. Each time he crawled into bed alone, he was reminded of the fact that it was due to his own stubbornness and inability to let people in that he wasn't joined by a man with laughing blue eyes and messy dark hair. Only in his dreams.
He fell into a fitful sleep, and dreamed of chips instead of Misha, much to his disgruntlement.
"Dad-dyyyyyyy." A little hand patted his cheek. Jensen groggily raised his head and peered around his dark bedroom. Harrison's eyes blinked back at him, peering over the mattress.
"What's up, little man?" Jensen asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
"I don't feel gooooooood," his son whined. Jensen stretched out a hand and laid it against Harrison's forehead. It was on fire. Jensen was out of bed in point-two seconds, snatching up his son and bringing him into the bathroom.
"Okay, fever. What else hurts, love? Are you ache-y? How's your throat? Your tummy?" He sat Harrison down on the closed toilet lid and opened up the medicine cabinet. He had everything arranged by symptom, from head to toes.
"Everything hurts!" Harrison wailed, and started to cry.
"It's okay, it's okay," Jensen murmured, grabbing the Children's Tylenol and picking his son back up. He carried a sobbing Harrison into the kitchen, pulled out a juice box and brought him into the living room and their rocking chair.
"Here, baby, take this pill and drink this juice. I'm going to get a cold cloth for your forehead, okay? I'll be right back. Can you do that?"
Harrison nodded bravely, tears dripping down his chin, and Jensen waited until the pill was safely swallowed before rushing back to the bathroom for a washcloth that he soaked beneath frigid water.
He rocked his son off-and-on throughout the night, exchanging the washcloth twice. Harrison slept fitfully, and the next morning they were both groggy and dull and Harrison still had a fever, though less than before. Jensen tucked his son into his own bed before retreating to the living room to make a call. He picked up his phone and took a deep breath. He hadn't talked to Misha since their blow-up. He scowled at the number. Are you a grown-ass man, or a twelve-year-old with broken hearts on your Trapper Keeper? He hit the screen.
The phone rang four times before an unknown female voice answered.
"Misha's phone," she slurred, voice thick with sleep. Jensen's stomach lurched and his throat closed up. Is this your idea of an ex, Misha? "Hello? Who's calling?"
"Uh." He cleared his throat. "This is the parent of a student in Mr. Collins' class. Please let him know that Harrison Ackles will be out sick today. Thank you."
"Okay, Harry Ackles -"
"Harri-son," he snapped. "Sorry. He doesn't go by Harry," he continued, trying to smooth his voice. He needed to get off the phone now. "Thank you for your help, ma'am. Goodbye."
He barely resisted cutting off her own 'goodbye' and threw the phone into the couch cushions. He might be a closed-off, reticent bastard, but he had at least tried to let Misha into his life, and he never let strangers in, it was a stupid, stupid thing to do. Everything that had happened was his own damn fault. He pounded the cushions with his fists. His own damn fault! Pound!
"Dude! Couch abuse!"
Jensen turned with a snarl. For such a huge man, Jared could be a fucking stealth ninja when he chose.
"What?" he demanded.
"Whoa." Jared held up his hands and backed away. "I was just going to do you a favor and walk Harrison to school. But if you want to go like that, by all means, don't let me stop you."
Jensen looked down at his sweaty, snotty t-shirt and flannel pants. "Harrison's sick. He's not going in today."
Jared's whole demeanor changed. "The little man's down for the count? Dude, I'm sorry."
"He's got a fever that's close to breaking," Jensen mumbled, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I already called to say he wouldn't be at school today. It's the last day before the Thanksgiving break; I doubt he'll miss anything important."
"Yeah, today will be a total goof-off day," Jared said, nodding. "Wait. Are you still flying to Texas tomorrow?"
Jensen sighed. "I should talk to the doctor."
"Okay." Jared hesitated, and Jensen could practically see the gears turning in his head. "So, um, when you called, who did you talk -"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah, sure, man." Jared was giving him that look he'd learned from the one episode of Oprah he'd watched with an ex-girlfriend. Jensen had to nip that in the bud right away.
"I'm fine, Jared. Just tired. Up all night with a sick kid, remember?"
"Right."
Harrison's fever hadn't broke by the time Jensen got out of the shower, so he bundled up his son and brought him to the doctor. Two hours and a trip to the pharmacy later, Jensen had a monstrous headache and his throat was starting to hurt. Harrison's fever broke late that evening, and Jensen's fever started. By the time the next morning rolled around, he knew there was no way he and his son would be able to catch their noon plane to Texas. No Mama and Papa Ackles, no hanging out with his brother and sister and new brother-in-law, no awesome turkey. No Texas.
He and Harrison were cuddled up together on the couch watching Christmas cartoons when Jared and his little sister came in, carrying grocery bags.
"Oooh! 'Let up a little on the wonder why, and give your heart a try,'" Jared warbled along with Father Mouse on the TV.
"Gag him, Megan," Jensen croaked. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We're going to have Thanksgiving here tomorrow," Megan declared. "Instead of going out to eat. Since y'all are stranded in California." She walked over to the couch and kissed Harrison on the forehead. "And I've been trying to get him to shut up since I was born," she told Jensen in a low voice. "Hasn't worked yet."
"Did you bring me a present?" Harrison asked.
"Your present is the joy of Megan's company," Jared told him. "And some throat lozenges. Cherry flavor. Now shove over, squirt, I'm sending your daddy to bed. I'm going to rot my brain with you while Megan gets to work in the kitchen."
"You got that mixed up, big brother." Megan pushed him towards the kitchen while Harrison erupted in giggles. Jensen left them mock-arguing over who would have to peel the sweet potatoes. He felt incredibly warm, and not just from the fever. Jared and his little sister always went somewhere fancy for Thanksgiving whenever they couldn't make it home for the holiday. He was lucky to have friends that would eat their own cooking, just so his son wouldn't have a shitty holiday.
Their plane would have been touching down in Texas right about now. His parents would have been waiting at the gate. His mother had sounded so disappointed on the phone, though they were planning to come to California at Christmas. Just last week, Jensen had entertained a fantasy of waking up Christmas morning with Misha beside him, cooking Christmas breakfast while his father and Misha had a friendly debate over politics and his mother and Harrison added batteries to new toys. Misha would probably be spending the holiday with his non-ex-girlfriend, instead.
He fell into a feverish doze and woke up when the bed dipped with Jared's weight.
"I hate peeling sweet potatoes," Jared grumbled. "Only for you, man."
"I 'preciate it," Jensen mumbled.
"We're spending the night here, by the way. If you feel half as shitty as you look, Harrison's going to have his hands full nursing you."
Jensen felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "I love you," he sniffed.
"Whoa, man, are you high?"
"No, you moron, I'm thankful that you care. Dumbass."
"Good. I love you, too, loser." The mattress shifted again, and then Jared was stretched out beside him, hands behind his head. He let out a loud sigh. "Are you ever going to tell me what exactly happened with Misha?"
"I walked in on him and his ex-girlfriend," Jensen said in a rush. "He said she was just dropping shit off and it was a goodbye kiss. I was jealous. He asked if I trusted him. I hesitated. And he accused me of wanting a boyfriend, but not wanting to be one in return."
Jared was silent for a moment.
"Misha's bi?" he asked finally.
"Yes. Didn't I tell you that before?"
"Dude, I would've remembered. Anyhow," Jared continued, "that last bit. Do you still not want to be a boyfriend?"
"I never didn't want to be his boyfriend. I just suck at it." He nudged Jared with his elbow. "I don't even tell you this kind of shit unless I'm feverish and on drugs."
Jared shifted on the bed so he was leaning on an elbow, looking down at Jensen. "Maybe you should reconsider that modus operandi, dude. What would you tell him, if you got a second chance?"
Jensen sighed. "I'd tell him that I want him back. I'm pissed as hell to think he might already be with someone else when he should be with me. Fuck. And that I was sorry for being an emotional freezer, and I'd try to be, you know, better, in the future."
"Well, that's a start." He leaned forward and kissed Jensen's forehead. "Now go to sleep, you look like shit."
***
Jensen woke up several times that night, sweaty and disoriented and needing to pee. His fever finally broke around 6:00 the next morning, and he fell into an exhausted sleep. The smell of roasting turkey woke him at noon, and he laid in bed, breathing in the scent and listening to Harrison's chirruping voice from the kitchen, answered by Jared's rumbling bass and Megan's light, amused tone. He was just considering getting into the shower when his doorbell rang. He frowned. He was home, Harrison was, too, and Jared. Who could possibly be coming over on Thanksgiving? They weren't even supposed to be there themselves.
"Mr. Misha!" he heard Harrison shriek in greeting. "Mr. Misha, Mr. Misha, Mr. - who's that?"
Oh my God. He brought her here. He struggled out of his blankets and threw on a robe.
They were all in the entryway; Jared and Megan in stained aprons, Misha kneeling down to hug Harrison, and…a female version of Misha hanging back by the door. Jensen did a double-take.
"What…?" he croaked out. God, his voice sounded like ass.
Misha ignored him. "Harrison, this is my little sister. Jared said it was a Little Sister Thanksgiving, so I had to rustle one up." He finally looked up at Jensen. "Jensen, you look terrible."
Jensen stared down at him. It'd been almost a week since they'd seen each other, and seeing him now was like a punch to the gut. He stumbled back into his room and shut the door. He could hear murmurings through the door, but he fell across his bed and ignored them.
There was a knock at the door a moment later, and Misha slipped inside his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. The silence stretched between them. Finally Jensen cleared his throat.
"You're not with your ex?"
"Definition of ex, Jen. As in no more." Misha's voice was surprisingly neutral. Jensen blinked. Damn sickness was making his eyes water.
"I'm," he started, stopped, then tried again. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me a story," Misha said. "Tell me something true about yourself that isn't really about Harrison or Jared."
Jensen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Harrison wants to get a dog. This isn't a story about Harrison!" he added hurriedly. "But it's why I don't want to get us a dog." He cracked open an eyelid. Misha was still there. Good. He shut his eyes again. "When I was a kid, I had this dog, Pepper Jack. He was the best dog ever, a Jack Russell Terrier-German Shepherd-lots of other stuff mix. He used to greet me at the door each day when I got home from school, and he'd sleep in my room at night. We had a fenced-in backyard, and Pepper Jack loved playing in it. One day I left to go to a friend's house to play, and I forgot to shut the gate." His voice was scratchy and hoarse, and getting gruffer by the minute. "Pepper Jack ran away. We searched everywhere for him, put up signs, called the pound and two days later, we got a call back. Pepper Jack had been hit by a car and was dead." He cleared his throat roughly. "I went with my dad to get the body. He looked so damn small. He left me, and it was my fault, and he died."
The bed dipped beside him, and when Misha spoke, his breath tickled Jensen's ear. "I can't believe your dead dog from when you were a kid sums up your views of adult relationships."
Jensen's eyes flew open. "What?! No it doesn't. That's why I don't want to get a dog."
"Which would be a commitment, which you don't want to make because you're just so sure it will end badly. Dammit, Jensen, now I'm sounding like that guy on TV who gives relationship advice, and I do not want to sound like him. He's an ass."
"I can't believe you got that from my story," Jensen said, shaking his head.
"Hey. Look at me." Misha waited until Jensen had rolled onto his side and faced him. Jensen's eyes roamed the other man's face, looking for some hint of what was going to happen next, some evidence of what their separation had cost him. Misha looked tired, bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin, and more solemn than usual. It looked good on him. "I don't like to be tied down," he said bluntly. "And neither do you. But I think I'm right in saying that you want this thing between us to work. Am I right?"
Jensen reached out his hand and cupped Misha's chin, ran his thumb over the stubble. "You're right."
Misha gave him a small smile and pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. "Good. I like being right." His grin grew wider as Jensen began to smile himself. "And I missed you," he confessed. "My poor sister thought her brother had been replaced with a troll." He leaned closer, moving in to kiss Jensen on the lips.
"Whoa, you don't want to catch what I just had." Jensen pulled away hurriedly, sitting up.
"I forgot that's why you greeted us in such a fetching outfit." He stood up and stretched. "Go shower, while I go rescue dinner from the fumblings of the Padalecki clan."
"Good luck with that," Jensen muttered. "Jared's screwed up boiling water before."
"Lovely." Misha laid a hand on his shoulder as Jensen moved past him to the bathroom. "We'll talk more tonight?"
"Yes." He thought he detected a hint of relief in Misha's answering smile.
And they did talk again, later that night. After the meal had been consumed (the turkey not too dry, the potatoes not too lumpy) and the dishes had been done and Harrison had been treated to several stories (read to him by the Little Sisters, as they were new and exciting to him), and after Jared and Megan had left, leaving the Collins family to keep an eye on the recovering Ackles family. In halting speech, Jensen told Misha about what he and Harrison would have been doing for Thanksgiving, who they would have seen, the games they would have played. And Misha listened, and drank in his words.
And when Misha pushed him back into the pillows and wrapped his body around him, Jensen had to admit this whole sharing thing definitely had its perks.
***
It couldn't solve everything, of course. Misha had mercurial mood shifts and an appreciation for what Jensen termed "extreme spontaneity," which, though he benefited from it a great many times, could still leave him shaking his head in consternation. And Jensen himself was not going to suddenly just stop his tendency to withdraw into himself. But he was trying, and it counted for a great deal.
As the days ticked down towards Christmas and Harrison eagerly opened the windows on his Advent calendar to liberate the chocolates inside, Jensen found something new to worry about: Christmas itself. It was a big fucking deal, and though he may have entertained a daydream or two of sharing the holiday with both his family and Misha, the fact remained that his parents hadn't met a single one of his boyfriends since college. Not to mention that he still wasn't sure if he and Misha were on solid enough ground to warrant a major holiday spent with parents, or even if Misha wanted to stay in town for it.
Things came to a head in bed. Misha was in a teasing mood, inspired by sugarplum lube, which Jensen thought was the most ridiculous shit ever, but he wasn't complaining when Misha used it on two fingers and repeatedly stroked his prostate.
"So tell me, Jensen: are there visions of sugarplums dancing in your head right now?" Misha asked, eyes bright and dancing across Jensen's writhing body.
"Nnnnnn gaaaaaarrrrrr," Jensen managed.
"That's what I thought." Misha grinned widely, nose crinkling, a look that sent an immediate jolt of desire up Jensen's already hard cock.
"Unfffffff," he mumbled, heels digging for purchase in the sweaty sheets, trying not to thrust up into the empty air, but dammit, Misha needed to do something about his cock, and fast.
"Did I tell you I also bought festive chapstick?" Misha asked, glancing at Jensen's leaking cock and pressing especially hard on his prostate. "I wonder…"
Jensen gasped as cool peppermint lips closed over his heated skin. It fucking tingled, and it didn't help that Misha was laughing at him, a look of such fondness in his eyes that Jensen forgot to breathe for a moment. Then Misha pulled almost entirely off his cock, sucking hard on the head, his fingers still milking his prostate, and this was going to be the fastest blow job ever because there was no way he was going to survive this.
He reached blindly for a pillow, held it to his face, and screamed into it as he came.
Misha carefully pulled out his fingers, wiping them on the sheet, and pressed a gentle kiss to the tender skin between Jensen's hipbone and the start of his thigh.
"Ah, God, I fucking love you," Jensen said, unthinking, voice muffled by the pillow. And froze, eyes opening wider and wider. Misha crawled up his body and snatched the pillow away.
"I heard that! No take-backs, that would be rude, and Texas boys are never rude. You just said, you just said -"
Jensen cut off his babbling by kissing him. The weird thing was, he did actually mean it. He rolled them over and broke the kiss, looking down into Misha's flushed face, his wide blue eyes wanting to believe, but ready to be hooded, ready to laugh it off, just in case.
"Yeah, I meant it," Jensen said. He settled himself between Misha's legs and began to nuzzle at Misha's neck, kissing and sucking as he snaked a hand between them and gripped Misha's cock. Misha whimpered, his hands coming up to tangle his fingers in Jensen's hair. Jensen felt a laugh building inside of him. He had reduced Misha to low moans and panting breaths - finally, he had hit on what could leave Misha Collins speechless. He ran his hand up and down the other man's cock, tugging, squeezing and caressing while he proceeded to give him the biggest hickey ever attempted.
Finally he pulled off Misha's neck and just watched his face, storing up in his memories Misha's face in blissed-out pleasure, the trembling of his lips, the sweaty curls of hair on his forehead, the crinkle in his nose and the noise he made when Jensen ran his thumb over the slit in his cock and gave it one more tug, whispering, "Come on, Misha."
And Misha did, gasping and shuddering. He looked beautiful, and Jensen had to wonder at himself for not realizing earlier that he was in love with and loved Misha. God, he was such a sap for Misha. His hand was sticky with come and he was waxing poetic on the beauty of Misha's face. And neck, and chest, and…
Misha pulled him down across his slightly damp chest and kissed him thoroughly. "I love you, too," he murmured, voice gruff and a little choked-up. Jensen smiled. Good to know he wasn't the only sap.
Tired saps, as they both fell asleep in between slow kisses.
***
"Saturday morning cartoons!! Get up, Dad, get up!"
Jensen jerked awake as Harrison came screeching into his room, stopping in shock and falling onto his Spider-Man-clad bum.
"Mr. Misha?!"
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
"Uh, Harrison -" he started, just as Misha led with, "Good morning, Harrison" in a sleep-fugged voice.
Jensen and Misha exchanged a look.
"Little man, give us a minute, why don't you choose the cereal you want for today, and Mr. Misha and I will talk to you in the kitchen, okay?" Jensen gave his son an encouraging nod, hoping he was in an obeying mood.
"Are you guys boyfriends now?" Harrison asked excitedly. "Is Mr. Misha going to live with us? Is he going to spend Christmas with us? What should I get him for Christmas? Do you -"
"Harrison!" Jensen interrupted, groaning. "Please. Go into the kitchen. We'll be right there and will answer your questions, I promise."
Harrison's eyes darted between his dad and his teacher. "Okay," he decided. "And I'm having Lucky Charms!" he added defiantly. He marched on his little feet out of the room.
Misha was quiet as Jensen threw off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom. He needed to pee like a race horse.
"You don't have to promise Harrison anything," Misha said softly.
Jensen had not been planning to have this conversation with the sound of his piss in the background, but when life handed you lemons, and so on and so forth…
"I was already wondering what you were doing for Christmas. We hadn't mentioned it." He shook off the last few drops of piss and washed his hands. "My parents are going to be here. Is that…too much?" He stepped back out into the bedroom. Misha already had his jeans on, and he sat on the edge of the bed, one of Jensen's old t-shirts in his hands.
Jensen was acutely aware that he was butt-naked as Misha pursed his lips and frowned up at him. "Is this your way of asking me over for Christmas?"
Jensen padded over to his bureau and fished out a clean pair of boxer-briefs. "Yeah," he grunted. "If you want. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, the works. With added parents."
"ARE YOU ALMOST READY?!" sounded from down the hall.
"God, Harrison," Jensen muttered. "HOLD YOUR HORSES!" he bellowed back, scooping out a t-shirt. Dammit, Misha hadn't said a thing. He'd come on too strong, he'd screwed it up already.
Misha caught his hand and gave it a light squeeze as he made to slip out the door, his other hand cupping Jensen's cheek and turning his head to face him. "Jensen. Thank you." He kissed him lightly on the lips, then slapped his ass. "Now move."
Jensen knew he had a silly grin on his face when he walked into the kitchen, and not even the spilled Lucky Charms could detract from his good mood. Harrison watched intently as they joined him at the kitchen table.
"Harrison," Jensen began, "first off, we both love you very much." Yes, he had researched online the best way to tell your kids you were seeing someone seriously. He liked being prepared.
Misha, however, liked cutting to the point. "Do you want me to come for Christmas, Harrison?" he asked, leaning forward. Harrison leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. Jensen watched, bemused.
"Yes. And I want a new lion mask for Christmas. Someone stepped on my old one."
"Thanks for telling me. I want socks."
"Okay. Do you love my Daddy?"
Jensen made a soft noise in the back of his throat.
"Yes," Misha said.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to leave?"
"I'm not planning on it. Do I get to ask a question?"
Harrison scrunched his face in concentration. "Okay."
"What cartoons are you watching this morning?"
"Christmas ones!" Harrison exclaimed, leaping from his chair, almost knocking it over. "Come on, Mr. Misha!" He grabbed Misha's hand and began to pull him towards the living room.
Misha shot a grin over his shoulder as he allowed himself to run with the excitement of the five-year-old. Jensen looked around at his cereal-strewn kitchen, listening to the prattle from the living room. He had a sudden suspicion it was going to be like that a lot from now on. He righted the box of Lucky Charms and closed it up.
"Daddy! Come sit with us!" Harrison called from the couch.
The three of them were still cuddled up on the couch, singing along with Mr. Heat Meiser, when Jared walked in.
"Little Dude! You're still in your jammies! Hop to it, Harrison!" His eyes narrowed as he took in the others' various states of undress. Jensen could practically see him adding two and two in his head, but Harrison opened his mouth before he could say anything.
"Uncle Jared! Guess what! Daddy and Mr. Misha love each other!"
Jensen didn't think Jared was ever going to stop laughing. Only Harrison pouting and finally running from the room put an end to the guffaws. Jensen threw a pillow at him.
"Bang up job, meathead. Now you've scarred the squirt for life."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Jared hiccupped, wiping at his eyes. "I would never mock your love! It's pure and beautiful!" He got a hold of himself with some difficulty. "And seriously, guys, I'm, uh, happy for you."
"Thank you, Jared," Misha told him. "I promise to keep Jensen in bonbons and silks forever, and I will never leave him barefoot and pregnant. Especially not without calling National Geographic first."
"Golly, that's real sweet of you." Jensen rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling. Gah, he'd been infected with a case of dumbass grins ever since Misha told him he loved him; it was disgusting. "What are you doing here this early on a Saturday, anyhow?"
"Christmas shopping. Harrison has to pick out a present for you. And speaking of which," Jared glanced down the hall. "I better go do some damage control." He left with a strange hand-wave thing that Jensen could only assume was his attempt at offering a blessing. Dorkface.
"I should probably get going, too," Misha said, standing up and stretching. "I need to work on my costume for the Holiday Pageant, as it will now need to include a turtleneck."
Jensen's eyes went to the large red and purple hickey on his neck. He felt a wave of fondness for it. It was a good hickey. And it said very clearly: keep your fucking hands off this one, he belongs to Jensen Ackles. Good times.
They were still kissing goodbye when Jared and Harrison came back down the hall. Jared immediately clamped a hand over Harrison's eyes.
"Ow! Uncle Jared, what's going on?"
"We lost power! It's the Apocalypse! Quick, Harrison, we need to save the canned beans!"
Jensen gave him a dirty look and kissed Misha once more, just because he could. Jared steered Harrison to the door, and Jensen could hear his son's little piping voice as they tripped down the walkway, "But I don't like canned beans!"
***
The next day was the dress rehearsal for the Holiday Pageant. Harrison adored his costume. He'd chosen "Jack Hunts Christmas" as his holiday tale, because there was a big white bear in it, and bears were almost as cool as lions. Jensen liked it because a bear costume was relatively easy to make. He bought a pair of plain white long underwear and a couple feet of fuzzy white material from the fabric store. Alona had given him some double sided tape she used sometimes when shooting commercials. Anything that didn't involve needles and sewing was good in Jensen's book, and he went to town covering the long underwear with fuzzy fake fur. He'd found bear paw mittens, and bear paw slippers, and even a hood with bear ears. Jared had found a snout in a joke shop, Jensen made a stubby tail out of a leftover scrap of the fake fur, and then they were set.
Almost. The piece de resistance of Harrison's costume was his star. Jensen had fashioned it out of a wire hanger, covered with a midnight blue old t-shirt, which Harrison and Jared had then painted in streaks of shiny glitter paint. It was just the right amount of gaudy for a children's holiday pageant.
They were one of the first families to the school. Harrison skipped inside, followed by Jared with a large box of art supplies, as Misha had convinced him that he really wanted to work on scenery, and Jensen drove off to pick up eight pizzas for the kids and their various adult helpers.
Rehearsal was in full chaos when he returned, and immediately devolved further with the arrival of the pizzas. Jensen managed to snag three slices and saw to it that Harrison wasn't stealing anyone else's pizza, before wandering to join Jared at the back of the stage.
"You seen Misha?" he asked, thrusting a greasy piece of pepperoni pizza at Jared.
"He's around. Can't miss his bullhorn." He ate half his slice in one bite. "Mmrrf yoooth, di ook ike meeer ka?"
Jensen surveyed the backdrop. "Yeah, I think it's good. Texas is a little overlarge, but it's the best state, so who cares?"
"Good. Check out Kentucky." Jared gestured to his massive map of the United States of America, the backdrop for the kindergartners' performance. Jensen stepped closer. Hidden in the mountains was a little creature from The Ninth Circle.
"Nice one. You should sign this thing."
"I did, see?" Jared pointed to the Florida Keys, bumping up against a stylish 'J. Pad.'
"'J. Pad'?" Jensen snorted. "You sound like a feminine hygiene product, or a cheap knock-off IPad." He spotted Misha over the heads of a sea of kids and smiled. "But it looks awesome. You need any help? Else I'm going to take this pizza to Misha…"
"Huh?" Jared was bent over, frowning at the Florida Keys, as if they'd been formed specifically to cramp his style. "Nah, go ahead. Oh, I was supposed to tell you!" he exclaimed, straightening from his crouch as Misha fought his way over to them. "Misha wants to talk to you, he has to tell you something really important."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Thanks, man."
"Does that pizza have my name on it?" Misha asked, a tad breathless as he finally reached them. Jensen handed it over wordlessly, smiling at Misha's costume.
Misha was an angel. A robed in white, halo, wings and little plastic golden harp taped to a bullhorn angel. With a white turtleneck beneath his robes. Jensen smirked. "Love the outfit."
Misha shrugged his shoulders and a scattering of gold glitter fell from his wings to the floor. "Apparently the teachers are always an angel, a Santa, a Hanukkah Armadillo and an abstract beam of light. I drew the angel."
"It suits your sweet nature," Jensen told him, laughing at Misha's attempt to look innocent and sweet. "And the Hanukkah Armadillo? What the hell? That's not a real thing."
"Well, if it was on an episode of Friends, that makes it real." Misha licked tomato sauce off his fingers. Jensen watched with hooded eyes, swallowing hard. "Listen," Misha said, taking his arm and pulling him close. "I need to talk to you after rehearsal. I just got some news…I'd like to discuss with you."
"Yeah, sure," Jensen assured him, trying not to sound panicked. Misha smiled briefly, then raised his bullhorn.
"Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California - front and center!" he called.
Harrison went up with Kansas, Louisiana, Maine and Maryland. Jensen beamed during the entirety of his recitation. His son was clearly the brightest child ever to draw breath on this planet. Misha and Mr. Kurt (the Hanukkah Armadillo) led the combined classes in a rousing rendition of 'Home for the Holidays' and then it was time to leave, and time for Jensen to hear Misha's news, whatever it might be.
His stomach roiled as he dropped Jared off and drove Harrison and himself home. His brain automatically went to the worst possible scenario, and it teased him now, as he helped Harrison bathe and brush his teeth, as he read a chapter out loud from their illustrated copy of 'Miracle on 34th Street.' Worry caused his forehead to crease, and he smoothed it out to give Harrison his good night hug and kiss.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text as he stepped into the hall, drawing Harrison's door closed behind him:
IN THE DRIVEWAY.
Jensen quickly wrenched open the front door to see Misha sitting in his car. He ran down the walk and knocked on the window.
"Harrison's in bed - can you come inside?"
His stomach was doing backflips now. Misha never looked quite this solemn. Jensen sat on the couch when they got inside, but Misha paced.
"Okay," he started. "I got a phone call right before rehearsal. Two phone calls, actually." He stopped and frowned at Jensen. "You look really freaked out. I'm not going to reveal a secret spy identity or anything. It's nothing like that."
Jensen blinked. He hadn't even thought of that! "Dude, just spit it out, okay?"
"That's what I'm planning to do. Though I still have sugarplum lube in my pocket, I could tease you a bit first…"
"Misha!"
"Okay, okay! First call was from Ms. Katie. She doesn't want to come back. She's got a better offer, and she thinks she'll be happier there, so she's leaving our school." He paused, and Jensen's heart leapt. If Ms. Katie wasn't coming back, did that mean…?
"The other call was from Principal Kripke. He offered me the position."
"YESSSSSS!" Jensen whooped. "That's great!" He sprung from the couch and wrapped his arms around Misha. And such a relief from all of the terrible things he had thought. Stupid mind.
He insisted that Misha stay the night with him, and it wasn't until he came with a groan, staring up at Misha's flushed face as Misha rode him into the mattress, that he realized Misha hadn't said whether or not he'd said yes.
He didn't get a chance to ask Misha the next morning, as he'd slipped out early to prepare for the long day and Holiday Pageant. Harrison was giddy with excitement all throughout breakfast, mumbling snippets of his presentation: magic beans, basket that kept filling with food, the big white bear and the star. Misha looked equally distracted when Jensen dropped his son off, and he held his tongue.
"Jared," Jensen asked later that morning, glancing across the studio at his partner, "do you think Misha would want to stay at the school if Ms. Katie didn't come back?"
"Huh? Why wouldn't Ms. Katie come back?" Jared had a smudge of purple ink across his left cheekbone. It made him look incredibly young.
"Say she won the lottery or something; I don't know. Do you think Misha would want to stay?"
"Well, why not? He'd get to hang with Harrison all day, and screw you silly each night - which, no, I don't want any details. But you guys look happy together. Why would he want to leave?"
Jensen nodded slowly.
"What's this about? Do you know something you're not telling me?" Now there were orange drips in his hair.
"I sure as hell hope I do," Jensen replied, and Jared retaliated by starting an eraser war.
But as he fixed lunch later, Jensen got to thinking. Jared's answers were exactly what he or Jared would do. Misha didn't think the same way. Misha appreciated doing new things, not being tied to the same classroom all the time. And if he stayed, ethically, he'd have to divulge his relationship with the parent of one of his students, especially if he eventually moved in with them. Then Harrison would be taken out of his class and placed into another. No, Jensen didn't think Misha had told Kripke yes.
The Holiday Pageant started at 6:00 PM exactly. Misha led the first five states out onto the stage. Arkansas tripped and almost faceplanted, but caught himself just in time. When it came Harrison's turn, Jensen and Jared got a very enthusiastic paw wave before Harrison launched into the story of Jack and his loser brothers, Will and Tom, and how Jack was nice so he got the magic beans, the basket that kept filling with food, and became friends with the big white bear who gave him a star. His son grinned wide enough to split his face in two when Jensen and Jared gave him several wolf whistles apiece.
By the end of the pageant, New Hampshire had forgotten his lines, Utah had accidentally cursed (much to the chagrin of Utah's parents), and Wisconsin had to be led offstage in tears, completely overcome by a bout of stage fright. She joined the other kids to sing 'Home for the Holidays,' her wailing a nice counterpart to "if you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze."
Jensen finally spotted his opportunity to talk to Misha during a lull in the reception.
"Misha," he murmured in the other man's ear. "Meet me in the supply closet in two minutes." He walked away before Misha could protest, touched Jared on the arm and asked for ten more minutes, and ducked into the hall. The school was in its holiday finest, nothing too overt, but boughs of gold tinsel decorated classroom doors decorated like wrapping paper. Misha's door featured polar bears.
"Do you really think we have the time?" Misha asked, slipping into the closet behind him and shutting the door with a snick.
"I just wanted to talk to you alone for a few minutes," Jensen said, turning to look at him. Misha's halo was a little askew, his wings had lost more glitter and his cheeks were flushed from the heat of the gym. For the first time, the older man looked younger, and worried. Jensen had a feeling he knew why, and he had to wipe that worried frown off his face. "Misha," he said, placing his hands on Misha's shoulders, "I understand if you don't want to take this job. It's okay."
Misha let out a shaky sigh. "It is?"
"I know you've really liked it. But I think…I think what you like so much about subbing is the change of scenery and the opportunity to meet new people and learn new things."
Misha was staring at him now. "And you don't think it's terribly irresponsible of me, not to grab the steady job?"
"Well, would you be miserable using these same lesson plans four years down the line?" Jensen already knew the answer to that. A devout "yes!" escaped Misha's lips, and Jensen smiled. "You like teaching. You don't like teaching the same thing over and over again."
Jensen had to admit to himself, he was a little proud of the look of shock on Misha's face, especially when it was replaced by a glorious smile and Misha throwing him up against the door.
"I told Jared I'd be ready to go in ten minutes," he managed to get out between frantic kisses.
"Plenty of time," Misha muttered, sinking to his knees. Jensen grabbed for his hair and came up with the halo, holding on tight as a thoroughly debauched angel with glitter on his cheeks took him into his mouth.
***
Three days later, Jensen left Harrison at home with his newly-arrived parents so he could pick Misha and all of his stuff up from the school after the afternoon bell. It was Misha's final day as Harrison's teacher, and unlike most of the kids, Harrison had not cried. He would be spending Christmas with Mr. Misha, after all, and, if Jensen had his way, that would just be their first Christmas together.
Misha was sitting behind his desk. Jensen had never actually seen him use it, as it wasn't all that practical for teaching five-year-olds. He was bent over some paperwork and must have just recently run his fingers through his hair in frustration, as it stuck up in clumps. His cuffs had been unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, too, and Jensen could just see the hint of tongue poking its way out of the corner of Misha's mouth. In short, he looked utterly delicious.
"Hey, Teach," Jensen called softly from the doorway, and Misha looked up, a weary smile on his face.
"Jensen," he said warmly.
"You look like you could use a distraction." Jensen sauntered into the room in his best Casa Erotica gait. "I've come to fix…whatever equipment our public school system has deemed appropriate for your classroom."
Misha pushed back from the desk, his smile wide now. "I'm afraid I'm sitting on the only equipment Uncle Sam has sprung for."
"Hmmm." He was right in front of Misha now and reached out to push the hair off his forehead and run his knuckle gently down Misha's jawline. "Are you packed?"
Misha laughed. "So much for my distraction! And yes." He gripped Jensen around the waist and pulled him onto the chair. It squeaked alarmingly.
"Pretty soon I will have to fix your fancy equipment," Jensen muttered, adjusting his position. "So what are you working on, or can we leave?"
Misha glanced down at the desk. "Resumes for Ms. Katie's replacement. I went through them and made comments."
"And who's your top pick?" Jensen shifted again and then, oh, hello! That was a good position. He leaned forward slightly and Misha's eyelids fluttered.
"Uh…" he gestured at the desk. "Genevieve Cortese. Sounds like she had a good sense of humor, but won't be pushed around by the kids. You should send Jared by to meet her."
Jensen grinned. "You sure she's a woman?"
"I called her. Woman."
"Okay. Now, no talking about Jared or anyone else for the next ten minutes," Jensen breathed against Misha's neck. He ground his hips slowly down, Misha gasped and sighed, and then they were sprawled on the floor, the chair in pieces.
Misha burst out laughing. "Well. My legacy." He offered Jensen an arm. "Let's continue this someplace else?"
"My parents are at my house already," Jensen sighed, picking up Misha's boxes. The chair? Well, if he knew himself, and he did, better now than before, he'd be sneaking in sometime over the holiday break to fix the damn thing.
Misha threw on his coat, gathered up the pieces of chair, took one last look around the room, and turned off the lights.
"You're keeping that chair?" Jensen asked, waiting as Misha locked the door one final time.
"Nope. But I don't want you to have to break in over break to fix it. This way Jared can fix it, and present it to the new teacher as a 'welcome to our school, my kid doesn't go here but I attend all the events, sometimes dressed as a moose' gift. I think it will go over well."
Jensen had to laugh. "I love you."
"Yes, I know." Misha grinned at him. "Now let's go home so I can meet your parents, and traumatize them by loudly making sweet, sweet love to you tonight."
Jensen grinned back. It was already the best Christmas ever.