Days Behind - Chapter 04
Three hours later and the guys were sitting in relative silence, just watching the television screen that Jensen was idly skipping through channels on. He had stopped twice on the local sports news to watch the scores when Christian nudged him with his foot.
“Jens, that’s like the third time we’ve gotten those scores. You’re beyond baked, son.”
“Aww, Chris, leave him.” Steve smiled over at Jensen. “Our boy has a crush.”
“What?” Jensen shook the fuzz from his head for a moment. “A crush? What? I don’t even…”
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Misha mused, not looking up from where he had begun French-braiding Christian’s hair.
“One, I am not a lady and, two, I don’t have a crush.”
“He’s right, Misha, it’s more like a ‘lust for the sports guy’ than a mere crush.”
“Fuck you, Kane. I’m not the one getting my hair braided like a little girl.”
“You’re just jealous you don’t have luxurious locks.”
“All right, Rapunzel…”
“Fuck you, Carlson.”
“Wow, Chris, that’s an awful lot of fucking…”
“About time he got cut off?” Jensen reached for the beer in front of Christian.
“Touch it and you’ll find something of yours cut off.” Chris growled, grabbing it out of Jensen’s reach.
“Stop moving or this braid won’t be tight enough,” Misha grumbled, pulling the handful of hair he held back so fast it whipped Christian’s head back.
“Sonofa - you do that again, Collins, and I will end you.”
“No you won’t.” Misha laughed as he ran his fingernails on Christian’s scalp to gather more hair.
Christian sighed deeply. “Yeah, if you keep that up, I might reconsider…”
“Time to cut him off?” Jensen asked across the couch.
“Chris?” Steve tapped his shoulder.
Christian opened one eye. “Yeah?”
“Rate Misha on a scale of one to ten?”
Christian turned his head as much as he could without causing Misha to pull his hair again. “Misha?”
“Yes, Christian?” He stopped braiding to consider the look Christian was giving him.
“If I were gay, I would so do you.”
Steve shared a laugh and nod with Jensen. “Aaaand Chris is cut off….”
“Don’t care,” Christian mumbled, leaning back into Misha’s touch. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing, Collins.”
The morning peeked through the blinds before Jensen was ready for it. He winced as he cracked open one eye and tried to look around. He could see the flickering of the television and hear a familiar voice reporting the scores from the games the night before.
“Holy sweet fuck,” Jensen groaned, forcing himself to sit up from where he was sleeping on the couch. “I am never doing that again.”
“Famous last words,” Misha’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen. “Who wants pancakes?”
“Did I hear the magic ‘P’ word?” Steve strolled in, dark glasses covering any evidence of the previous night’s activities.
“Yes, Steven, you did.” Misha waved the spatula around for emphasis.
“Man, hook me up.” Steve slid into a chair and pushed his glasses up before laying his head on his folded arms. “I could murder a stack.”
“One stack of ‘Collins Famous Flapjacks’ coming right up!”
Christian shuffled slowly into the room, one hand covering his face as Misha was setting the plate in front of Steve. In a voice gruffer than normal, he issued a command. “Coffee me.”
Never looking from where he was starting another griddle full of pancakes, Misha answered him. “Coffee pollutes the body, Christian. If you’d like a nice herbal tea…”
Christian’s nostrils flared as he gripped the counter beside him for support. “Collins, do not fuck with me right now. You are in my house and you have two options - coffee or death. Choose wisely.”
“Uh -“
Steve looked up from his stack. “Chris, man - I’ve already got it brewing…”
“Collins, son, you better thank Carlson for savin’ yo ass.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
Christian grumbled as he ambled over to the table to join Steve, letting his head fall face first when he got there, arms dangling off to the sides. “Urgh. Why didn’t someone stop me?”
“We tried to cut you off three times.” Jensen joined his friends, throwing his elbows on the table and propping his own head on his hands.
Christian didn’t pick up his head. “Yeah, well, you guys suck as babysitters.”
Jensen closed his eyes against the bright light. “Most babies don’t drink as much as you.”
Christian’s head snapped up, but his eyes remained closed. “Did you just call me a baby?”
“You started it.” Jensen slumped to the table.
“Don’t make me end it, Ackles.” But the threat was lessened by the fact that the words were muffled by Christian’s face being pressed to the tabletop once again.
“Children, children…” Steve put his hands on the tops of the guy’s heads to shut them up. “Can we stop this until the tiny men working on my brain-roads halt construction?”
Jensen groaned. “Where are my pancakes?”
“Right here,” Misha’s voice was too damn cheerful for any time of day, let alone a morning after the night they had. He slid two more finished stacks across the table to the men with their heads down. “Enjoy.”
Christian raised his head when the smell hit him. “I take back what I said about you, Collins. You are a God among men…”
Misha beamed. “I try, Christian, I try.”
The studio was still a little bright for the actors when they got there later that day. Steve had his dark glasses back on even as they stood around waiting for their turns in the makeup chair.
Madelyne, or the Goddess of Makeup and Hair, as she preferred to have the boys call her, let out a little chuckle as she saw them file in. “Looks like somebody or four had a rough night.”
“You’re just mad because you weren’t invited.” Christian fell into the empty chair and closed his eyes.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Zebra, I hate to miss a party down at Sassafras Junction…” You could hear her rolling her eyes, even as she talked.
“Now, darlin’, don’t be bitter.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. No bitter here. Just sweet. Now shut up so I can make you all pretty.”
Christian scowled, opening his eyes. “Don’t call me pretty.”
Madelyne met his eyes in the mirror and smirked. “Don’t call me ‘darlin’.”
Steve stifled a laugh as he sat in the empty chair to wait his turn. “Awww, Chris, did the Goddess hurt your feelings?”
It was Jensen’s turn to laugh. “Chris doesn’t have feelings.”
“I will end you, boy.”
“You will not, Christian,” Misha walked in, already in full costume.
“You should thank Collins for saving your ass, Ackles.”
“Eh.” Jensen slumped further into the couch he was sitting on. “He’s right. You won’t hurt me. Couldn’t even if you wanted to.”
“Dream on, man.”
“Children, children.” Madelyne mumbled as she tugged on Christian’s shirt to make him sit up straighter. “Can I just ask you one question?”
“What?”
“Who the hell French-braided your hair, Princess?”
Christian reached up and patted the braid he had forgotten was there. “…dammit…”
“One more song about happiness and god damn rainbows and I swear I’m going to choke a puppy.” Christian fell onto the couch.
“So, I take it you aren’t looking forward to going back into the studio again?” Steve sat beside his friend.
Christian turned his head slowly to look at him. “We don’t really have to do that do we? Can’t they use some old tracks and cut them together or something?”
“You mean like a ransom note of song?” Misha considered the possibility with a thinking frown. “That might be really cool…”
“Don’t encourage him, Misha…” Jensen closed the door as he joined the others in their un-make-uping ritual.
Christian hit at Steve’s leg as he stood to take his place in front of the mirror. “Look, even Collins said it would be cool, Carlson…”
“Are you drunk?” Steve paused, his makeup-remover soaked towel in mid-swipe.
“What?” Christian met his eyes.
“I asked if you were drunk.”
“Why?”
“Because you are agreeing with Misha.”
“First, he agreed with me. I like when people agree with me. Second, I referenced that he agreed with me, I didn’t ask him out to dinner and a movie. Fuck.” Christian picked up the brush that sat on the table beside him and began to brush out his hair the best he could, wincing every time the brush got stuck.
“So, what are we doing after this? Hitting the bars? Making some prank phone calls? Bowling?” Jensen carefully removed his tail and set it just out of Misha’s reach.
Steve snorted. “Why don’t we just have a slumber party?”
“With pillow fights?” Misha’s voice went up a full octave. “I could braid your hair again, Christian!”
Christian blinked wordlessly at his co-star. “Okay, no.”
Misha let out a disappointed sigh and continued to turn himself a more human-based color. “…was just a thought…”
“If you have better ideas, let’s hear them then, Chris.”
“Well, Ackles, if you must know - I think Imma go home and just relax. Put my feet up, crack open a cold one and catch up on my DVR.”
“I think that might just be a sign of the apocalypse.”
“Shut up, Ackles. I know you plan to do the same thing. Except you’ll probably have a fruity drink with an umbrella in it.”
“Oh yes, me and the umbrella drinks. Just can’t quit them…”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, boy.”
Jensen made a face at Christian even as he laughed at the mental image of himself enjoying a big fruity drink with an umbrella in it. “You know, I just might do that, actually. Though I might have to stop by the party store for the little umbrellas. Last time I used them, some hick came over and used to pick his teeth…”
“Hey, man, not my fault you can’t buy normal toothpicks. And what kind of guy grills steaks and doesn’t provide his guests with toothpicks?”
“Hey, guys…” Steve wondered if this was going to stay friendly or escalate, but put himself in between them in any case. “Let’s just go back to our corners and put our gloves down…”
Christian and Jensen stared at each other for a moment before breaking out in laughter. Steve and Misha joined them a moment later, but theirs sounded more relieved than either would admit.
“Okay,” Christian started brushing his hair again. “I really am just going to get out of this stupid get-up and go home and relax. Today was a good day and I don’t want to fuck it up by being too Christian Kane.”
Jensen snorted. “Then I promise not to fuck it up by being too Christian Kane either.”
“Fuck that, man, you’ll fuck it up on your own by being all Jensen Ackles on its ass.”
“What does that even mean?”
Christian set the brush aside for a moment. “You ever gonna get up the guts to track that boy down and ask him out?”
“I have no idea who or what you are talking about.”
“See? You just got all Jensen Ackles on its ass. Congrats.”
“Okay, Chris, I think it’s time I go all ‘Steve Carlson’ on your ass and declare the topic of conversation closed. Let’s just call it a night.”
“Fine.”
The air was heavier than it should have been as everyone thought about what Christian was going to say and how they felt about the topic themselves.
Misha broke the silence. “Um, what would it mean if I went all ‘Misha Collins’ on someone?” He frowned deeply, trying to figure it out.
“Misha, you’re too nice to do anything but hug someone to death. I think that it would be awesome to have someone go all ‘Misha Collins’ on you.”
“Thanks, Steven.”
As if having two quite uneventful, and frankly, wonderful days of filming weren’t enough, Christian was the first to show up at the recording studio. Jensen was sure it was definitely a sign of the apocalypse, though he didn’t say so out loud.
“Hey, Ackles.” Christian was smiling.
“Hey?”
Christian looked up from where he was unpacking his guitar. “What?”
“What ‘what’?”
“That was a question.”
“It was?”
Jensen was spared a confrontation by Steve coming through the door whistling, his own guitar on his back. “What was?”
“Huh?” Jensen frowned as he was the only one facing Steve - Christian was still tuning his guitar.
Steve frowned. “When I came in you were talking about something being something.”
“Uh,” Jensen was honestly confused about what he and Christian had been talking about just moments before. “I really can’t remember.”
“Okay then,” Steve looked from one man to the other before bringing out his own instrument. “Let’s assume it was about how Chris being here is clearly one of the signs of the apocalypse.”
“Shut up, Carlson.” Christian flicked his pick at Steve. “This is recording. Not putting on the stupid outfits and prancing around.”
“So you really want to record the garbage truck song?”
“No, but I was hoping that maybe we’d have some time left at the end where I could try something out.” Christian looked hopeful. “I mean, last year, they let you cut a track, right?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, but that was special circumstances.”
“Yeah, yeah - because my lazy ass was off sleeping off a wild night in Vegas. That’s why I got here early - show ‘em I have the drive and shit.”
“Just don’t get mad if they say no, okay Chris?”
Christian looked at Steve sharply for a moment before softening his face. “Yeah, I can do that. But you gotta have my back on this one when I go in for the kill, okay?”
“I always do, man.”
Four hours and four tracks later, it seemed that their manager was happy with what they had recorded. Eric was going over tracks and actually smiling. Christian figured that now was the best time for him to ask.
As the others were packing up, Christian slid into the booth and nodded to Eric before taking the empty seat beside him. Once the track Eric was listening to was over, he turned to Christian. “Something on your mind?”
Chris looked down at the sliding buttons in front of him as if they held answers. “I was wondering if there was any studio time left.”
Eric watched him a moment. “For what?”
“Well, I kinda wanted to know if there was time for me to maybe…play around with.”
“Chris, you know that we have to pay for all the time we use…”
“But you even said we finished before time.”
“Yeah, but I want to check through these and make sure we don’t have to re-record something that didn’t quite work…”
“Eric, you fucking spent an hour on each song. Songs we sing every concert. Songs we know by heart. Fuck man, I sing these god damned songs in my sleep!”
“Songs that I haven’t heard the masters of all the way through and can’t tell if we need to do some clean-ups on…”
Christian glared at their manager for a long while before setting his jaw and throwing the chair back as he stood roughly. “Oh I see how it is. Carlson wants time, Carlson gets time; Kane wants time, FUCK HIM! I’M OUTTA HERE. Have a good time getting clean-ups without me!”
Before anyone could stop him, Christian slammed his hand down on the sound board and stormed out of the door, slamming it so hard he broke the glass.
“Shit.” Jensen rubbed his eyes. “Looks like we gotta go do damage repair.”
“Leave him.” Steve said. “Give him time to cool off or it’s just going to keep going. I know where to find him.”
From the doorway, there was another voice. “You better. Mr. Kane owes me for a broken door. And he better hope we got what we needed today.”
Steve closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Gotcha. Damage team assemble.”
Misha and Jensen didn’t hesitate as they stood beside their band mate.
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