ThreeThe contract remains unsigned for days, burning a metaphorical hole in Misha's table. He's okay with leaving it there, as it turns out. And as Eric hasn't called to inquire yet, though Misha is under no illusion that he won't, he figures he's got a least a few more days to stew unhappily over them. Maybe a week, tops
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I don't know if I can go back after this. Your writing is simply beautiful :)
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I imagine it will bore you to Dean's one perfect tear.
Misha himself is knee deep in tissue paper and a kind of homemade glue - flavoured with glitter - a fair deal of which seems to have migrated to his hair.
Jensen shakes his head, bemused. "Sometimes Misha, I just don't know about you. You have more masks than the rest of us combined, and yet you act like it's all just you."
He's always known he'd fuck Jensen again, given the chance. He's only human after all. But it's never really occurred to him that maybe he might like to see if there's anything else past simple sexual attraction there.
Until now.
"Thanks for inviting me. I had fun."
Misha shrugs, unused to taking credit for merely inviting someone somewhere. "And I thought it was just a banana in your pocket."
The sunburn and the dropping temperature make Misha shiver, and he absolutely doesn't acknowledge that he leans in just a little closer to Jensen for warmth, in the dark. Ignores the fact that Jensen lets him.Just some of my ( ... )
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