Jays2 (21/?)
Title: Jays2 (21/?)
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating (overall): Adult
Bribes Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Crack, Angst, Gleeeee!, Boy-Sexin’ (wait, what kind of warning is that?)
Word Count: ~ 5,100
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos, the Toronto Star, or Rogers Sportsnet. This is for fun, not profit.
Summary: Jensen and Jared have found their happily-ever-after, right? Right. Well, definitely maybe. But what about the rest of our boys?
A/N: I'm late, I know. Internet issues, sorry! Hope you like where I've taken this. Enjoy! Comments = Love!
Master Post
TWENTY-ONE: WHEN LIFE THROWS YOU A CURVE, DEAL WITH IT OR... DUCK.
Jensen & Jared
Jensen flopped down on the plush suede couch in the living room, snuggling into Jared, trying to get comfortable.
It didn't work.
Sighing, he grabbed Jared's arms and arranged them around his body, one across his shoulders and the other, the one holding the remote, around his waist. He felt a huff of warm breath against his neck as Jared laughed, but he ignored it, wiggling further into Jared's side, but not quite feeling... right.
Then Jared tightened his arms, and oh yeah, that felt right.
He could feel Jared's smile against his temple, the brush of soft lips against his skin causing him to shiver. "You know, for someone who once threatened to kill me for cuddling, you sure have changed your tune."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jensen denied.
"Uh huh." Obviously Jared wasn't buying it, but whatever; Jared had no physical proof of Jensen's new proclivity for cuddling, and Jensen would make sure it stayed that way.
Kissing was another matter entirely though, he thought with a small smirk of his own, turning his head and pursing his lips at his husband. Jared looked dumbstruck for all of five seconds before his mouth collided with Jensen's and this felt more than just right; this was perfect.
He could do this forever.
So obviously, that's when the doorbell rang. Urgently and repeatedly, and suddenly, Jensen had a very bad feeling. Things never went this right for him, at least not without consequences. Dread solidified in his stomach when he opened the door to see his lawyer on the threshold looking like he was on the brink of having a coronary.
"What did he do now?" Jensen asked, trying to keep his tone low but Jared was almost right behind him.
"He who?" Jared asked, just as Peter panted, "It's not Alan this time."
"Get in here," Jensen said, opening the door wider, while Jared grabbed his harassed attorney a bottle of water. "Spill."
"So," Peter took a long sip of water and a deep breath, "you guys have a marriage license, and that's irrefutable. Nothing can change that."
"I feel a 'but' coming on," Jared darted a worried look Jensen's way, and without thinking Jensen took his hand, holding it tight.
"But," Peter continued, "there's a second part to the proceedings according to provincial law. You have to file your marriage certificate with Registry Services in Toronto within one year of getting your license or the union is nullified."
"Nullified?" Jensen repeated stupidly, while this time, Jared gripped his hand tighter.
"We can fax the forms to the office there - I have them right here, but they may require you to have a document from a licensed official who presided over your exchange of vows."
"But we never officially exchanged vows," Jared gulped.
"Which is why we need to get to Toronto pronto," Peter told him before looking at Jensen. "You know your father. If his lawyers stumble on this..."
Jensen didn't need to hear another word to spring into action. "Call Derek and tell him to have the jet ready..."
"The jet?" Jared asked in surprise.
"Already done," Peter, efficient as always informed him, "Alex will be joining us for security reasons and if you wish your mother and sister present at the ceremony, I can get in touch with Alona and have them meet us on the tarmac."
"Do it. And thanks, Pete," Jensen patted his attorney on the shoulder. "Listen, tell Derek we're making a stop in San Antonio first. Jared's family drove back there yesterday, they'll be coming with us."
"Consider it done," Peter smiled in relief. "Alex has a car waiting for us downstairs. Alona and I will be joining you, of course."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, buddy," Jensen sighed as Peter left. He looked at his husband. "Pack light."
"You have a jet?"
"Did I not mention that?"
"Er... that would be a no."
"Huh," Jensen smirked up at Jared. "I have a jet." Jared quirked an eyebrow up at him and his smile widened. "Actually, I have two jets and a fleet of five choppers. Derek - I went to college with him - decided to get his pilot's license and start a charter company and he needed an investor and well..."
"Umm, I thought you gave up all this money stuff with your shares in your dad's company." Jared looked adorably confused, so Jensen kissed him. Then he dragged him to the bedroom and hunted down their passports.
"S'okay, I kinda have a knack for making money, so I have a bunch of it kickin' around. You don't really need to be my sugar daddy."
"Aww," Jared pouted, hazel eyes teasing, "and I was so looking forward to buying you pretty things, precious."
"Don't worry," Jensen told him reassuringly, winding his arms around his husband's neck, "you can be my sugar daddy where it counts the most."
"In the kitchen?" Jared laughed, "like when I make you pancakes?"
"Yes, Jared - in the kitchen," Jensen retorted with a roll of his eyes as they locked up and walked briskly to the elevators. Jared grinned at him.
"The bedroom would’ve made more sense."
"You don't say."
"Are we actually flying to go pick up my family?"
"Can't get hitched without them."
"Huh. You got any other jets up your sleeve, Ackles?"
"Nope. That's it for flying modes of transportation."
"Good."
"We'll discuss other modes of transportation later."
"Umm, what?"
"It means I also own part of a friend's trucking company."
Jared bit his lip as the elevator doors opened and then eyed the buttons as they lit up over the doors with a serious expression. "In the interest of full disclosure: when you say you have some money kickin' around...?"
"I'm not as loaded as my father."
"Your father's not exactly the best yardstick to go by."
"Okay. In the interest of full disclosure - I'm rich," Jensen smirked. "And tomorrow, half of what's mine will be yours."
Jared looked shell-shocked as the elevator doors pinged open and they stepped out into the lobby. "Don't you think it would be wise to get Pete to draw up a pre-nup or something?"
"Too late, we're already married."
"Not really," Jared hedged, swallowing hard. "You could still..." Jensen stopped his words with a finger pressed to his mouth.
"We got married on April Fool's Day, 2012 - end of discussion," Jensen stated firmly, nodding at Alex as they got into the waiting limo. "And a pre-nup is just stupid. You're my everything, so it makes sense that you should have everything I have."
"Jensen..."
"Can't argue with logic, Jared. And this makes a way better story to tell our grandkids."
"Grandkids?"
"They're the ones that come when our kids have kids," Jensen teased, and Jared punched him in the arm.
"You should have half my stuff too, then."
"Deal. What've you got?"
"My daddy gave me the deed to the tree-house he built for me and Jeff," Jared shared in earnest, "Jeff didn't want it."
"Probably because it wouldn't support his weight."
"Pretty much. It's a close thing with me."
"Fine. I'll take half your tree-house and we'll call it even."
"Why do I get the feeling that spending my life with you is gonna be full of surprises?"
"Well, my track record so far should've been your first clue," Jensen grinned, kissing the hand he still held snugly in his. "Besides which, I hear that a little mystery keeps a marriage... er... interesting."
"Any more interesting and I won't be able to handle it."
"All you need to do is love me, Jared," Jensen told him, all jokes aside. "And in return, I'll love you back."
"Now that is a deal I can live with." And then he sealed the deal with a kiss.
| * | * | * |
Mike & Tom & Aldis (or The [Brief] Return of Delores)
"Delores!"
"Good God Almighty - not you again," Delores huffed as Mike grinned at her. "I told your friend. Those boys are real gay married and there's not a thing I can do about it."
"Oh, we're not here about them," Mike insisted, flashing his pearly whites at Tom who looked lovingly back at him before smiling angelically at the beleaguered woman behind the counter.
Delores rolled her eyes heavenward as if seeking divine guidance. "We still don't do gay marriage, boys," she told them. "Next!"
"Hold up, hold up," Tom stalled her. "It's not for us. It's for him. And her."
Delores looked at the couple in question. "Oh. Finally. A straightforward marriage license application."
"Yup," Mike smirked, "and we're gonna be the witnesses!"
"Mmmhmm," Delores pursed her lips in exaggerated patience. "Y'all up to having these two idiots stand witness to your marriage? I can't see how it's the best of beginnings to a new life."
Aldis grinned at her, winking at Beth before looping his arms around the shoulders of his teammates. "Believe me, ma'am, there's no one better equiped to getting us on the road to happily-ever-after than these two guys. Look what they did for Jensen and Jared."
"Indeed," Delores muttered, eying them all in suspicion.
"Aww, man - what a lovely thing to say," Mike hammed, delicately kissing Aldis' cheek. Tom obligingly smooched his other cheek and Delores' eyes widened as Beth giggled and shoved a sheath of paperwork at her.
"You sure about this, honey?" Delores asked Beth.
"Absolutely."
"Then you're as crazy as the rest of 'em and y'all deserve each other. That'll be $41 and we only take cash."
"Waive the fee, Delores," Mike smiled at her, eyes twinkling with the spark of the devil inside as his accent dipped into a ridiculous southern twang, "we're gonna take the marriage educamacation course."
"How about I waive the fee and we'll just say you took the course?" Delores begged, looking exceedingly panicked.
"Not happening," Tom told her with an evil smirk of his own. "Are you trying to spare a co-worker some grief?"
"No," Delores moaned. "It's my damn week to teach the course!"
| * | * | * |
Cory & Mark
"I want... what Jensen and Jared have," John said so softly that Cory had to actually lean in close just to hear the tail end of it.
"Love and marriage? Like a horse and carriage? Like Al and Peg Bundy?" He teased. John didn't even crack a smile. Cory sighed. "How's it going with David?"
John's head snapped up, his startled eyes wide. "How did...?"
"Dude. I'm not blind. You, my friend, have an epic kind of crush on Mr. Personality."
"It's not a crush," John mumbled, "I kinda wish it was but I know myself better than that. The man's got me hook, line and sinker. Signed, sealed and delivered. Strike three and I'm out."
Cory resisted the urge to snort out a laugh. "I get the picture, buddy," he commiserated, trying not to think of his own... er... deal with Mark.
"Why don't you try talking to him about it? It's the off season, and I'm pretty sure the guy isn't a miserable bastard all year long. Salling said he's really chilled when he's kickin' back at his B & B. Maybe you'll get lucky..." He waggled his eyebrows leerily. "In more ways than one - heh!"
John was not amused. "What? You just want me to drop in on him in Maine and say 'Hey David, I was just in the neighborhood. Wanna hook up?'? Like that'll work." John sighed again. "I made my move, told him the ball was in his court now, and then he proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the season."
"It's worth one more try, dude. And if he shoots you down again, at least you'll know you tried," he thumped John on the back in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. "Then maybe you can move on."
"I don't wanna move on."
"Quit griping like a little kid, and take it like a man."
"What? Like you and Mark? Yeah, how very adult of you both." It took a few endless seconds for Cory to close his mouth after he gaped at his friend. John chuckled. "You may fool the other guys, man, but I know you like you know me. And Salling's got you good."
"It's just sex."
"Sure it is."
Cory gritted his teeth. "Of course it is! Have you seen that... him? He makes cavemen seem like gentlemen! It's just sex."
"You've been hanging around him a lot this past week. In public. Out and about in Dallas and I haven't exactly seen any sex there, Cory. I mean what you do in his hotel room when you sneak out at night after you think I'm asleep notwithstanding, it's not all about the sex. You two were flirting."
"Shut up."
"Flirt-ing," John singsonged.
"Dude! Shut the fuck up."
"Flirting," John stated smugly, in a tone that brooked no argument, "and I wasn't the only one to notice this time. The guys were betting on how long it'll take for you two to start looking at China patterns."
"Oh my God!" Cory plopped down on the bed, hoping John was kidding but he knew his teammates. They wouldn't let this go and he would have to bear the brunt of their teasing, because Mark sure as hell wasn't about to take any shit from anyone.
This was bad news.
And Mark Salling was even worse news.
And he could see where John was coming from: who wouldn't want the kind of love that Jensen and Jared had? And what he had with Salling? What was that? It had begun as a warped pact to keep the other man's numbers up in the win column, an outlet for stress for both of them, but now... what the hell was it now? In the off-season? What the hell made a guy drive across the goddamn country for a quick fuck or two?
Or twenty?
And John was right, too. He and Mark had been hanging out. Laughing and teasing and even the sex wasn't all about fighting for domination anymore. Their last time, just last night, had been playful, fun - intense, yes - but so much more than that. And that right there? Scared the shit out of him. He had always fooled around with guys and girls - ever since college - but this? This was different. When was the last time he had looked at a woman that way? He had always been of the opinion that when he finally settled down, it would be with a woman, and they would have the requisite white wedding and white picket fences and however many kids was the national average, and his family would never need to know that he batted for both teams.
That was the plan, and Mark Salling was derailing it.
And Cory Montieth was letting him.
He was sitting at the hotel bar nursing a cold one later that night when the man on his mind took the stool next to him and bumped their shoulders together in greeting.
Nothing for it, Cory thought to himself. This - whatever it was between them - wasn't healthy. It had to end - and no time like the present, right?
"Hey - change of plans," he said, keeping his tone as blasé as possible. "John and I are heading east with Chris and Zach."
Mark's eyebrows shot up at that. "I thought you wanted a ride back to Idaho."
"Nah - I'm gonna hang out with John for a few days."
"Well, in that case, Jersey's in the same direction, you know," Mark said quietly, looking a little confused and more than a little hopeful.
"The four of us are gonna make a road trip out of it," Cory continued, upbeat and seemingly oblivious, hoping Mark would get the underlying 'and you're not invited' vibe.
He did.
In the blink of an eye, Mark's face changed, hardened, but for a split second there, Cory almost thought he saw a little flash of hurt in his eyes. But this was Mark - Cory was sure he didn't have the power to hurt the Neanderthal.
"Whatever, Idaho. I got stuff to do anyway," he said gruffly, his whole demeanour bristling. "See you around, dude."
"Yeah, sure," Cory mumbled, studiously ignoring the jab of pain in his chest as Mark turned and stalked away without a backward glance. "But not if I see you first."
| * | * | * |
John & David
It didn't help that he had showed up in Eastport, Maine, on David's doorstep, flanked by three other guys, John thought to himself. The hard, cold look on David's face when he saw him still turned his blood to ice and made him want to run home to his mother for comfort.
Still, David was nothing if not the perfect host: hospitable and welcoming, in spite of the fact that they had showed up unannounced. Luckily - or unluckily, depending on your perspective - he had a couple of rooms vacant for a couple of days.
The first day had passed uneventfully, because John was a coward of the highest magnitude, but the second day... the second day, he would never forget.
Having had all he could take from Cory's constant harrassment to just get it over with, John had gone in search of David, only to find him down by the water, on the shoreline just beside the B & B, gazing out at the Atlantic.
"You really shouldn't have come here," he said as John walked up towards him, his tone as frigid as it always was when he spoke to John. John didn't know what to say to that. Sure, he had played out this conversation a hundred times in his head, but now that he was standing here, he was tongue-tied and scared, just like the kid David always accused him of being.
"I just..."
David rounded on him fiercely. "Just what?"
John started in surprise, clenching his jaw against the urge to cry. "I don't know." The words were quiet but the older man heard them and he laughed cruelly.
"That's because you're a child!" He practically swore, looking disgusted, and John flinched, his eyes welling up against his will. "You don't know what the hell you want! Not outta life, and certainly not outta this... whatever you think this is. Oh, you may think you do, Francis, but you don't!"
"I'm in love with you."
That pretty much rendered David mute. Then his face went all mottled red and he advanced on John like a rampaging bull. He didn't stop until he had John's shirt fisted in his hands, and John's body yanked close. He was menacing like this, and John was more than a little petrified.
"This is an infatuation that you need to get over," David growled through gritted teeth, as he shook John to within an inch of his life. "Nothing good can come outta this," he spat angrily, "think of your goddamn career!" He shook him again and then... just let go. "You are just getting started. And your arm is gonna take you places you can't even imagine. And you wanna screw with that? And for what? Me?"
"I think you're worth it." And where he got the cojones to say that, John would never know.
David blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm done this season, kid," he informed him, "and after last season's numbers, do you honestly think I'll make it past Spring Training?"
"What does that have to do with us?"
"There is no goddamn 'us'! What the hell are you expecting?" David shouted. "You think I'm gonna hang around Toronto waiting on your pretty little ass to get home from the ballpark like some sort of wife?"
"No!"
"Then what? Where the hell do you think this is going to go?"
"I don't know!" John shouted right back. "I haven't thought it through that way! I just... I just wanted to be with you."
"Well, that's not gonna happen anytime soon," David huffed, wiping a hand down his face before looking back at John with... pity. John turned away from that look, staring out at the waves lapping serenely against the rocks instead. "Just because I don't advertise my personal life, doesn't mean I don't have one."
That brought their gazes crashing together again. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I'm in a relationship already," David told him, his eyes unwavering and brutally frank. "It's long-term, and it's serious and you've just been an annoying little distraction this past season."
"I don't believe you..."
"You met him last night at dinner."
"No."
"Mark Harmon."
"No."
"We've known each other for years. This is our place - not just mine. We're partners, and I don't mean just in business." David stopped to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said flatly, like he meant it.
John knew otherwise.
And he didn't think it was possible, but watching David walk back to the main house and away from him, he actually felt his heart break, and his face crumple.
This time he did nothing to hold back the tears.
| * | * | * |
Misha & Chad (Finally)
Ditching Chad Michael Murray was harder than one would expect, simply because he was a clingy little fucker, but Misha had had three years of experience perfecting his technique.
He had just distracted Chad with something slutty and escaped - like freakin' Houdini - back to Miami, and back to his beloved boat, and as he stretched and watched the sun rise over the water, he grinned at his own genius.
That is until the dull thud of a familiar-looking duffel hit the deck.
If mere looks could incinerate, Misha felt that bag would have been scorched to ashes in seconds - along with its owner, but alas, no such luck.
He slowly turned to face his roommate on the dock.
"Where's the gangplank, dude? How am I s'posed to get on board?" The moron asked sunnily, his blond spiky hair glinting golden in the morning light, so if you squinted just right, it almost looked like a halo around his head.
Well, Lucifer had been an angel at one point too, and look where he ended up, Misha told himself, not bothering to return the greeting or extend the gangplank.
"Mish, come on!" Chad cajoled. "I should be mad at you! You just left me there, dude."
"That was the idea, loser! Only you were supposed to take the hint and stay there!" Misha yelled, unable to hold his tongue and seriously - what the fuck had happened to his zen-like calm this season?
Apparently, this was what happened to decent people when they were subjected to Chad Michael Murray on a daily basis.
"Aww, Mish - don't be like that!" Chad whined, drawing closer. "What happened to us communing with nature?"
"I'm communing with nature - you're a freak of nature," Misha declared. "And I checked, and like most decent women, Nature doesn't want you anywhere near her."
"You're funnier than you look sometimes. And you look pretty funny most of the time."
"I'm hauling anchor, Murray," Misha felt obliged to inform him. "I'm headed out on the open ocean and the hell away from you."
"You can't still be mad at me about Jensen and Jared, dude! That all happened because of me!"
Misha rounded on him in fury. "It all happened in spite of you, idiot!"
"Tomayto, tomahto, man."
"Get lost!"
"Mish-mish - I broke land speed records to be here with you..."
"Do I look like I care?"
"I had to pay a $300 fine for speeding!"
"You can afford it."
"Misha Dmitri Tippens Krushnic Collins, don't make me call your mother," Chad warned with a wolfish smirk - and just... eww.
"You stay the hell away from my mother, asshole!" Misha frowned mightily, suddenly realizing that besides his mother, Mayhem might be the only person on the planet who knew his full name, and just... Chad never paid that much attention to detail.
"How did you...?"
"Dude, I know everything about you," Chad winked, "your mom calls me all the time, just to see how her baby boy is doing. She loves me."
Misha hoped his eyes glinted with murderous intent. "Touch her and die!"
"As if!" Chad looked insulted. As if indeed, Misha thought, knowing better. "I mean sure she'll still take me in, but - what am I gonna do without you?"
"We're roommates, dipshit! We're together 24/7 - we don't need to be together in the off-season too! And you are not visiting my mother!" Misha shouted, curbing the tendency to pull out his own hair in frustration as he made the last minute check on deck. Only when he was satisfied that all systems were go did he turn to face the bane of his existence with a somewhat calmer mien. "I'll see you at Spring Training."
"Misha!"
"No."
"Pooh bear - come on!"
"Don't call me that! In fact, don't call me, period! And no means no, Chad."
"I'm on my fuckin' knees here, man!"
"I can see you from here, you know."
"I meant metaphorically."
"You meant figuratively, moron."
"See? This is why I need you! Who else cares about my grammar?"
Momentarily struck speechless, Misha glowered at him for a full minute before growling, "I hate you so much right now."
Chad had the audacity to actually look hurt at that and damn if that didn't make Misha feel instantly contrite. And guilty. Like he was abandoning a helpless little chihuahua to fend for himself in the onslaught of an incoming pack of dobermans.
Ah - the hell with it - chihuahuas were irritating, yippy little shits anyway. He revved the engines and took the wheel, the powerful yacht pulling away from the dock in seconds.
Chad looked comically shocked. "Misha!" He yelped, jogging down the jetty, following the boat. "My stuff's on there, jerk-off!"
"I'll throw it overboard," Misha shouted over the roar of the engines, "you swim out and get it later."
"There are dry-clean-only designer brands in there, dude!"
"Cry me a river, why dontcha? I know how much money you make, remember?" Misha all but cackled at the pout on Chad face. A face that went from pathetic to predatory in an instant. And then - then he started running, and... oh shit.
Misha gunned the engine, pulling out just past the jetty, but Chad - in rare form - leapt, like an awkward, graceless gazelle and much to Misha's horror, landed on all fours, rolled, tucked and tumbled, safely onto the deck.
And oh, hell to the no.
Misha stalled the yacht - they were only in the middle of the marina as yet - surely he wouldn't be penalized for throwing someone overboard, right? Whether that someone was dead or alive was another matter entirely, he thought as he took the few steps down to the stern of the boat, stopping only to throw Chad's duffel out into the water first.
He was braced for a fight, but he didn't expect to be so easily and quickly overpowered and incapacitated, and damn the crazy fucker was stronger than he let on. Misha tested the hold Chad had on his wrists as he straddled him, pinning him to the deck, and he could not budge an inch.
Good goddamn.
Face flushed from struggling, he glared up at Chad. "Your designer duds are gonna be fish food if you don't rescue them soon."
"Don't worry, baby blue," Chad leered down at him. "It's warm and sunny. I'll just hang about on deck naked. No tan lines - it's all good." Chad grinned when Misha tried to buck him off his body. "That's not gonna be a problem is it, roomie? I'm very comfortable with my body. 'Course it helps that my body is hot like fire."
"I hate you," Misha gritted angrily. "I'm gonna feed you to the fishes. You know, the big grey ones, with the rows and rows of sharp, pointy teeth."
Chad leaned down. "Aww, sweetheart - then who would play third with you?"
"Hmm... let's see. How about the ball boy? Or our mascot, Ace? Or the cop who hangs by the dugout? Or that old dude on the grounds crew? They're all better than you anyway," Misha scoffed. "I'll talk to JD - don't you worry your spiky little head about it." He frowned as Chad just looked amused - and strangely affectionate - and wait... what?
"You'd miss me."
"I would do a goddamn happy dance around the bases before every game."
"You would miss me like a fucking limb."
"Why don't you gimme a chance to find out?"
"I would, but..." Chad said softly, leaning in closer, close enough for Misha to smell the coffee he'd had at some point that morning, and smiled, genuine and sweet.
"But what?" Misha asked, suddenly breathless.
"But I would miss you," Chad told him in no uncertain terms, and then, just in case there was any doubt, he kissed him.
Chad Michael Murray kissed him - full on the mouth - and robbed him of his breath and sanity in one fell swoop and oh, holy hell - that kiss was hot like fire.
It may have been seconds or minutes before he regained his senses enough to break away. Panting. Dazed. Confused. Wanting more.
Christ on a cracker.
"No," he managed to choke out, before forcefully clearing his throat and his head. "No, no, no! I am not gonna be another notch on your belt, dude! I don't care how hot that was!" And oh shit, he had totally not meant to say that. "Er..."
Too late. Chad smirked at him, and then leaned down to gently lick at the corner of his mouth. "You threw my belt overboard."
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
"For all your meditation and shit - you are one uptight fucker, you know that?"
"Shut up."
"You shut up," Chad teased, and then proceeded to shut him up himself. With tongue. It was a very effective strategy on Chad's part. "Let's make a deal, okay? You commune with nature and I'll..." There was more kissing, this time in the vicinity of Misha's ear, and damn if that didn't feel amazing, and ohhh... "I'll commune with you."
| * | * | * |
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating (overall): Adult
Bribes Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Crack, Angst, Gleeeee!, Boy-Sexin’ (wait, what kind of warning is that?)
Word Count: ~ 5,100
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos, the Toronto Star, or Rogers Sportsnet. This is for fun, not profit.
Summary: Jensen and Jared have found their happily-ever-after, right? Right. Well, definitely maybe. But what about the rest of our boys?
A/N: I'm late, I know. Internet issues, sorry! Hope you like where I've taken this. Enjoy! Comments = Love!
Master Post
TWENTY-ONE: WHEN LIFE THROWS YOU A CURVE, DEAL WITH IT OR... DUCK.
Jensen & Jared
Jensen flopped down on the plush suede couch in the living room, snuggling into Jared, trying to get comfortable.
It didn't work.
Sighing, he grabbed Jared's arms and arranged them around his body, one across his shoulders and the other, the one holding the remote, around his waist. He felt a huff of warm breath against his neck as Jared laughed, but he ignored it, wiggling further into Jared's side, but not quite feeling... right.
Then Jared tightened his arms, and oh yeah, that felt right.
He could feel Jared's smile against his temple, the brush of soft lips against his skin causing him to shiver. "You know, for someone who once threatened to kill me for cuddling, you sure have changed your tune."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jensen denied.
"Uh huh." Obviously Jared wasn't buying it, but whatever; Jared had no physical proof of Jensen's new proclivity for cuddling, and Jensen would make sure it stayed that way.
Kissing was another matter entirely though, he thought with a small smirk of his own, turning his head and pursing his lips at his husband. Jared looked dumbstruck for all of five seconds before his mouth collided with Jensen's and this felt more than just right; this was perfect.
He could do this forever.
So obviously, that's when the doorbell rang. Urgently and repeatedly, and suddenly, Jensen had a very bad feeling. Things never went this right for him, at least not without consequences. Dread solidified in his stomach when he opened the door to see his lawyer on the threshold looking like he was on the brink of having a coronary.
"What did he do now?" Jensen asked, trying to keep his tone low but Jared was almost right behind him.
"He who?" Jared asked, just as Peter panted, "It's not Alan this time."
"Get in here," Jensen said, opening the door wider, while Jared grabbed his harassed attorney a bottle of water. "Spill."
"So," Peter took a long sip of water and a deep breath, "you guys have a marriage license, and that's irrefutable. Nothing can change that."
"I feel a 'but' coming on," Jared darted a worried look Jensen's way, and without thinking Jensen took his hand, holding it tight.
"But," Peter continued, "there's a second part to the proceedings according to provincial law. You have to file your marriage certificate with Registry Services in Toronto within one year of getting your license or the union is nullified."
"Nullified?" Jensen repeated stupidly, while this time, Jared gripped his hand tighter.
"We can fax the forms to the office there - I have them right here, but they may require you to have a document from a licensed official who presided over your exchange of vows."
"But we never officially exchanged vows," Jared gulped.
"Which is why we need to get to Toronto pronto," Peter told him before looking at Jensen. "You know your father. If his lawyers stumble on this..."
Jensen didn't need to hear another word to spring into action. "Call Derek and tell him to have the jet ready..."
"The jet?" Jared asked in surprise.
"Already done," Peter, efficient as always informed him, "Alex will be joining us for security reasons and if you wish your mother and sister present at the ceremony, I can get in touch with Alona and have them meet us on the tarmac."
"Do it. And thanks, Pete," Jensen patted his attorney on the shoulder. "Listen, tell Derek we're making a stop in San Antonio first. Jared's family drove back there yesterday, they'll be coming with us."
"Consider it done," Peter smiled in relief. "Alex has a car waiting for us downstairs. Alona and I will be joining you, of course."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, buddy," Jensen sighed as Peter left. He looked at his husband. "Pack light."
"You have a jet?"
"Did I not mention that?"
"Er... that would be a no."
"Huh," Jensen smirked up at Jared. "I have a jet." Jared quirked an eyebrow up at him and his smile widened. "Actually, I have two jets and a fleet of five choppers. Derek - I went to college with him - decided to get his pilot's license and start a charter company and he needed an investor and well..."
"Umm, I thought you gave up all this money stuff with your shares in your dad's company." Jared looked adorably confused, so Jensen kissed him. Then he dragged him to the bedroom and hunted down their passports.
"S'okay, I kinda have a knack for making money, so I have a bunch of it kickin' around. You don't really need to be my sugar daddy."
"Aww," Jared pouted, hazel eyes teasing, "and I was so looking forward to buying you pretty things, precious."
"Don't worry," Jensen told him reassuringly, winding his arms around his husband's neck, "you can be my sugar daddy where it counts the most."
"In the kitchen?" Jared laughed, "like when I make you pancakes?"
"Yes, Jared - in the kitchen," Jensen retorted with a roll of his eyes as they locked up and walked briskly to the elevators. Jared grinned at him.
"The bedroom would’ve made more sense."
"You don't say."
"Are we actually flying to go pick up my family?"
"Can't get hitched without them."
"Huh. You got any other jets up your sleeve, Ackles?"
"Nope. That's it for flying modes of transportation."
"Good."
"We'll discuss other modes of transportation later."
"Umm, what?"
"It means I also own part of a friend's trucking company."
Jared bit his lip as the elevator doors opened and then eyed the buttons as they lit up over the doors with a serious expression. "In the interest of full disclosure: when you say you have some money kickin' around...?"
"I'm not as loaded as my father."
"Your father's not exactly the best yardstick to go by."
"Okay. In the interest of full disclosure - I'm rich," Jensen smirked. "And tomorrow, half of what's mine will be yours."
Jared looked shell-shocked as the elevator doors pinged open and they stepped out into the lobby. "Don't you think it would be wise to get Pete to draw up a pre-nup or something?"
"Too late, we're already married."
"Not really," Jared hedged, swallowing hard. "You could still..." Jensen stopped his words with a finger pressed to his mouth.
"We got married on April Fool's Day, 2012 - end of discussion," Jensen stated firmly, nodding at Alex as they got into the waiting limo. "And a pre-nup is just stupid. You're my everything, so it makes sense that you should have everything I have."
"Jensen..."
"Can't argue with logic, Jared. And this makes a way better story to tell our grandkids."
"Grandkids?"
"They're the ones that come when our kids have kids," Jensen teased, and Jared punched him in the arm.
"You should have half my stuff too, then."
"Deal. What've you got?"
"My daddy gave me the deed to the tree-house he built for me and Jeff," Jared shared in earnest, "Jeff didn't want it."
"Probably because it wouldn't support his weight."
"Pretty much. It's a close thing with me."
"Fine. I'll take half your tree-house and we'll call it even."
"Why do I get the feeling that spending my life with you is gonna be full of surprises?"
"Well, my track record so far should've been your first clue," Jensen grinned, kissing the hand he still held snugly in his. "Besides which, I hear that a little mystery keeps a marriage... er... interesting."
"Any more interesting and I won't be able to handle it."
"All you need to do is love me, Jared," Jensen told him, all jokes aside. "And in return, I'll love you back."
"Now that is a deal I can live with." And then he sealed the deal with a kiss.
| * | * | * |
Mike & Tom & Aldis (or The [Brief] Return of Delores)
"Delores!"
"Good God Almighty - not you again," Delores huffed as Mike grinned at her. "I told your friend. Those boys are real gay married and there's not a thing I can do about it."
"Oh, we're not here about them," Mike insisted, flashing his pearly whites at Tom who looked lovingly back at him before smiling angelically at the beleaguered woman behind the counter.
Delores rolled her eyes heavenward as if seeking divine guidance. "We still don't do gay marriage, boys," she told them. "Next!"
"Hold up, hold up," Tom stalled her. "It's not for us. It's for him. And her."
Delores looked at the couple in question. "Oh. Finally. A straightforward marriage license application."
"Yup," Mike smirked, "and we're gonna be the witnesses!"
"Mmmhmm," Delores pursed her lips in exaggerated patience. "Y'all up to having these two idiots stand witness to your marriage? I can't see how it's the best of beginnings to a new life."
Aldis grinned at her, winking at Beth before looping his arms around the shoulders of his teammates. "Believe me, ma'am, there's no one better equiped to getting us on the road to happily-ever-after than these two guys. Look what they did for Jensen and Jared."
"Indeed," Delores muttered, eying them all in suspicion.
"Aww, man - what a lovely thing to say," Mike hammed, delicately kissing Aldis' cheek. Tom obligingly smooched his other cheek and Delores' eyes widened as Beth giggled and shoved a sheath of paperwork at her.
"You sure about this, honey?" Delores asked Beth.
"Absolutely."
"Then you're as crazy as the rest of 'em and y'all deserve each other. That'll be $41 and we only take cash."
"Waive the fee, Delores," Mike smiled at her, eyes twinkling with the spark of the devil inside as his accent dipped into a ridiculous southern twang, "we're gonna take the marriage educamacation course."
"How about I waive the fee and we'll just say you took the course?" Delores begged, looking exceedingly panicked.
"Not happening," Tom told her with an evil smirk of his own. "Are you trying to spare a co-worker some grief?"
"No," Delores moaned. "It's my damn week to teach the course!"
| * | * | * |
Cory & Mark
"I want... what Jensen and Jared have," John said so softly that Cory had to actually lean in close just to hear the tail end of it.
"Love and marriage? Like a horse and carriage? Like Al and Peg Bundy?" He teased. John didn't even crack a smile. Cory sighed. "How's it going with David?"
John's head snapped up, his startled eyes wide. "How did...?"
"Dude. I'm not blind. You, my friend, have an epic kind of crush on Mr. Personality."
"It's not a crush," John mumbled, "I kinda wish it was but I know myself better than that. The man's got me hook, line and sinker. Signed, sealed and delivered. Strike three and I'm out."
Cory resisted the urge to snort out a laugh. "I get the picture, buddy," he commiserated, trying not to think of his own... er... deal with Mark.
"Why don't you try talking to him about it? It's the off season, and I'm pretty sure the guy isn't a miserable bastard all year long. Salling said he's really chilled when he's kickin' back at his B & B. Maybe you'll get lucky..." He waggled his eyebrows leerily. "In more ways than one - heh!"
John was not amused. "What? You just want me to drop in on him in Maine and say 'Hey David, I was just in the neighborhood. Wanna hook up?'? Like that'll work." John sighed again. "I made my move, told him the ball was in his court now, and then he proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the season."
"It's worth one more try, dude. And if he shoots you down again, at least you'll know you tried," he thumped John on the back in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. "Then maybe you can move on."
"I don't wanna move on."
"Quit griping like a little kid, and take it like a man."
"What? Like you and Mark? Yeah, how very adult of you both." It took a few endless seconds for Cory to close his mouth after he gaped at his friend. John chuckled. "You may fool the other guys, man, but I know you like you know me. And Salling's got you good."
"It's just sex."
"Sure it is."
Cory gritted his teeth. "Of course it is! Have you seen that... him? He makes cavemen seem like gentlemen! It's just sex."
"You've been hanging around him a lot this past week. In public. Out and about in Dallas and I haven't exactly seen any sex there, Cory. I mean what you do in his hotel room when you sneak out at night after you think I'm asleep notwithstanding, it's not all about the sex. You two were flirting."
"Shut up."
"Flirt-ing," John singsonged.
"Dude! Shut the fuck up."
"Flirting," John stated smugly, in a tone that brooked no argument, "and I wasn't the only one to notice this time. The guys were betting on how long it'll take for you two to start looking at China patterns."
"Oh my God!" Cory plopped down on the bed, hoping John was kidding but he knew his teammates. They wouldn't let this go and he would have to bear the brunt of their teasing, because Mark sure as hell wasn't about to take any shit from anyone.
This was bad news.
And Mark Salling was even worse news.
And he could see where John was coming from: who wouldn't want the kind of love that Jensen and Jared had? And what he had with Salling? What was that? It had begun as a warped pact to keep the other man's numbers up in the win column, an outlet for stress for both of them, but now... what the hell was it now? In the off-season? What the hell made a guy drive across the goddamn country for a quick fuck or two?
Or twenty?
And John was right, too. He and Mark had been hanging out. Laughing and teasing and even the sex wasn't all about fighting for domination anymore. Their last time, just last night, had been playful, fun - intense, yes - but so much more than that. And that right there? Scared the shit out of him. He had always fooled around with guys and girls - ever since college - but this? This was different. When was the last time he had looked at a woman that way? He had always been of the opinion that when he finally settled down, it would be with a woman, and they would have the requisite white wedding and white picket fences and however many kids was the national average, and his family would never need to know that he batted for both teams.
That was the plan, and Mark Salling was derailing it.
And Cory Montieth was letting him.
He was sitting at the hotel bar nursing a cold one later that night when the man on his mind took the stool next to him and bumped their shoulders together in greeting.
Nothing for it, Cory thought to himself. This - whatever it was between them - wasn't healthy. It had to end - and no time like the present, right?
"Hey - change of plans," he said, keeping his tone as blasé as possible. "John and I are heading east with Chris and Zach."
Mark's eyebrows shot up at that. "I thought you wanted a ride back to Idaho."
"Nah - I'm gonna hang out with John for a few days."
"Well, in that case, Jersey's in the same direction, you know," Mark said quietly, looking a little confused and more than a little hopeful.
"The four of us are gonna make a road trip out of it," Cory continued, upbeat and seemingly oblivious, hoping Mark would get the underlying 'and you're not invited' vibe.
He did.
In the blink of an eye, Mark's face changed, hardened, but for a split second there, Cory almost thought he saw a little flash of hurt in his eyes. But this was Mark - Cory was sure he didn't have the power to hurt the Neanderthal.
"Whatever, Idaho. I got stuff to do anyway," he said gruffly, his whole demeanour bristling. "See you around, dude."
"Yeah, sure," Cory mumbled, studiously ignoring the jab of pain in his chest as Mark turned and stalked away without a backward glance. "But not if I see you first."
| * | * | * |
John & David
It didn't help that he had showed up in Eastport, Maine, on David's doorstep, flanked by three other guys, John thought to himself. The hard, cold look on David's face when he saw him still turned his blood to ice and made him want to run home to his mother for comfort.
Still, David was nothing if not the perfect host: hospitable and welcoming, in spite of the fact that they had showed up unannounced. Luckily - or unluckily, depending on your perspective - he had a couple of rooms vacant for a couple of days.
The first day had passed uneventfully, because John was a coward of the highest magnitude, but the second day... the second day, he would never forget.
Having had all he could take from Cory's constant harrassment to just get it over with, John had gone in search of David, only to find him down by the water, on the shoreline just beside the B & B, gazing out at the Atlantic.
"You really shouldn't have come here," he said as John walked up towards him, his tone as frigid as it always was when he spoke to John. John didn't know what to say to that. Sure, he had played out this conversation a hundred times in his head, but now that he was standing here, he was tongue-tied and scared, just like the kid David always accused him of being.
"I just..."
David rounded on him fiercely. "Just what?"
John started in surprise, clenching his jaw against the urge to cry. "I don't know." The words were quiet but the older man heard them and he laughed cruelly.
"That's because you're a child!" He practically swore, looking disgusted, and John flinched, his eyes welling up against his will. "You don't know what the hell you want! Not outta life, and certainly not outta this... whatever you think this is. Oh, you may think you do, Francis, but you don't!"
"I'm in love with you."
That pretty much rendered David mute. Then his face went all mottled red and he advanced on John like a rampaging bull. He didn't stop until he had John's shirt fisted in his hands, and John's body yanked close. He was menacing like this, and John was more than a little petrified.
"This is an infatuation that you need to get over," David growled through gritted teeth, as he shook John to within an inch of his life. "Nothing good can come outta this," he spat angrily, "think of your goddamn career!" He shook him again and then... just let go. "You are just getting started. And your arm is gonna take you places you can't even imagine. And you wanna screw with that? And for what? Me?"
"I think you're worth it." And where he got the cojones to say that, John would never know.
David blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm done this season, kid," he informed him, "and after last season's numbers, do you honestly think I'll make it past Spring Training?"
"What does that have to do with us?"
"There is no goddamn 'us'! What the hell are you expecting?" David shouted. "You think I'm gonna hang around Toronto waiting on your pretty little ass to get home from the ballpark like some sort of wife?"
"No!"
"Then what? Where the hell do you think this is going to go?"
"I don't know!" John shouted right back. "I haven't thought it through that way! I just... I just wanted to be with you."
"Well, that's not gonna happen anytime soon," David huffed, wiping a hand down his face before looking back at John with... pity. John turned away from that look, staring out at the waves lapping serenely against the rocks instead. "Just because I don't advertise my personal life, doesn't mean I don't have one."
That brought their gazes crashing together again. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I'm in a relationship already," David told him, his eyes unwavering and brutally frank. "It's long-term, and it's serious and you've just been an annoying little distraction this past season."
"I don't believe you..."
"You met him last night at dinner."
"No."
"Mark Harmon."
"No."
"We've known each other for years. This is our place - not just mine. We're partners, and I don't mean just in business." David stopped to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said flatly, like he meant it.
John knew otherwise.
And he didn't think it was possible, but watching David walk back to the main house and away from him, he actually felt his heart break, and his face crumple.
This time he did nothing to hold back the tears.
| * | * | * |
Misha & Chad (Finally)
Ditching Chad Michael Murray was harder than one would expect, simply because he was a clingy little fucker, but Misha had had three years of experience perfecting his technique.
He had just distracted Chad with something slutty and escaped - like freakin' Houdini - back to Miami, and back to his beloved boat, and as he stretched and watched the sun rise over the water, he grinned at his own genius.
That is until the dull thud of a familiar-looking duffel hit the deck.
If mere looks could incinerate, Misha felt that bag would have been scorched to ashes in seconds - along with its owner, but alas, no such luck.
He slowly turned to face his roommate on the dock.
"Where's the gangplank, dude? How am I s'posed to get on board?" The moron asked sunnily, his blond spiky hair glinting golden in the morning light, so if you squinted just right, it almost looked like a halo around his head.
Well, Lucifer had been an angel at one point too, and look where he ended up, Misha told himself, not bothering to return the greeting or extend the gangplank.
"Mish, come on!" Chad cajoled. "I should be mad at you! You just left me there, dude."
"That was the idea, loser! Only you were supposed to take the hint and stay there!" Misha yelled, unable to hold his tongue and seriously - what the fuck had happened to his zen-like calm this season?
Apparently, this was what happened to decent people when they were subjected to Chad Michael Murray on a daily basis.
"Aww, Mish - don't be like that!" Chad whined, drawing closer. "What happened to us communing with nature?"
"I'm communing with nature - you're a freak of nature," Misha declared. "And I checked, and like most decent women, Nature doesn't want you anywhere near her."
"You're funnier than you look sometimes. And you look pretty funny most of the time."
"I'm hauling anchor, Murray," Misha felt obliged to inform him. "I'm headed out on the open ocean and the hell away from you."
"You can't still be mad at me about Jensen and Jared, dude! That all happened because of me!"
Misha rounded on him in fury. "It all happened in spite of you, idiot!"
"Tomayto, tomahto, man."
"Get lost!"
"Mish-mish - I broke land speed records to be here with you..."
"Do I look like I care?"
"I had to pay a $300 fine for speeding!"
"You can afford it."
"Misha Dmitri Tippens Krushnic Collins, don't make me call your mother," Chad warned with a wolfish smirk - and just... eww.
"You stay the hell away from my mother, asshole!" Misha frowned mightily, suddenly realizing that besides his mother, Mayhem might be the only person on the planet who knew his full name, and just... Chad never paid that much attention to detail.
"How did you...?"
"Dude, I know everything about you," Chad winked, "your mom calls me all the time, just to see how her baby boy is doing. She loves me."
Misha hoped his eyes glinted with murderous intent. "Touch her and die!"
"As if!" Chad looked insulted. As if indeed, Misha thought, knowing better. "I mean sure she'll still take me in, but - what am I gonna do without you?"
"We're roommates, dipshit! We're together 24/7 - we don't need to be together in the off-season too! And you are not visiting my mother!" Misha shouted, curbing the tendency to pull out his own hair in frustration as he made the last minute check on deck. Only when he was satisfied that all systems were go did he turn to face the bane of his existence with a somewhat calmer mien. "I'll see you at Spring Training."
"Misha!"
"No."
"Pooh bear - come on!"
"Don't call me that! In fact, don't call me, period! And no means no, Chad."
"I'm on my fuckin' knees here, man!"
"I can see you from here, you know."
"I meant metaphorically."
"You meant figuratively, moron."
"See? This is why I need you! Who else cares about my grammar?"
Momentarily struck speechless, Misha glowered at him for a full minute before growling, "I hate you so much right now."
Chad had the audacity to actually look hurt at that and damn if that didn't make Misha feel instantly contrite. And guilty. Like he was abandoning a helpless little chihuahua to fend for himself in the onslaught of an incoming pack of dobermans.
Ah - the hell with it - chihuahuas were irritating, yippy little shits anyway. He revved the engines and took the wheel, the powerful yacht pulling away from the dock in seconds.
Chad looked comically shocked. "Misha!" He yelped, jogging down the jetty, following the boat. "My stuff's on there, jerk-off!"
"I'll throw it overboard," Misha shouted over the roar of the engines, "you swim out and get it later."
"There are dry-clean-only designer brands in there, dude!"
"Cry me a river, why dontcha? I know how much money you make, remember?" Misha all but cackled at the pout on Chad face. A face that went from pathetic to predatory in an instant. And then - then he started running, and... oh shit.
Misha gunned the engine, pulling out just past the jetty, but Chad - in rare form - leapt, like an awkward, graceless gazelle and much to Misha's horror, landed on all fours, rolled, tucked and tumbled, safely onto the deck.
And oh, hell to the no.
Misha stalled the yacht - they were only in the middle of the marina as yet - surely he wouldn't be penalized for throwing someone overboard, right? Whether that someone was dead or alive was another matter entirely, he thought as he took the few steps down to the stern of the boat, stopping only to throw Chad's duffel out into the water first.
He was braced for a fight, but he didn't expect to be so easily and quickly overpowered and incapacitated, and damn the crazy fucker was stronger than he let on. Misha tested the hold Chad had on his wrists as he straddled him, pinning him to the deck, and he could not budge an inch.
Good goddamn.
Face flushed from struggling, he glared up at Chad. "Your designer duds are gonna be fish food if you don't rescue them soon."
"Don't worry, baby blue," Chad leered down at him. "It's warm and sunny. I'll just hang about on deck naked. No tan lines - it's all good." Chad grinned when Misha tried to buck him off his body. "That's not gonna be a problem is it, roomie? I'm very comfortable with my body. 'Course it helps that my body is hot like fire."
"I hate you," Misha gritted angrily. "I'm gonna feed you to the fishes. You know, the big grey ones, with the rows and rows of sharp, pointy teeth."
Chad leaned down. "Aww, sweetheart - then who would play third with you?"
"Hmm... let's see. How about the ball boy? Or our mascot, Ace? Or the cop who hangs by the dugout? Or that old dude on the grounds crew? They're all better than you anyway," Misha scoffed. "I'll talk to JD - don't you worry your spiky little head about it." He frowned as Chad just looked amused - and strangely affectionate - and wait... what?
"You'd miss me."
"I would do a goddamn happy dance around the bases before every game."
"You would miss me like a fucking limb."
"Why don't you gimme a chance to find out?"
"I would, but..." Chad said softly, leaning in closer, close enough for Misha to smell the coffee he'd had at some point that morning, and smiled, genuine and sweet.
"But what?" Misha asked, suddenly breathless.
"But I would miss you," Chad told him in no uncertain terms, and then, just in case there was any doubt, he kissed him.
Chad Michael Murray kissed him - full on the mouth - and robbed him of his breath and sanity in one fell swoop and oh, holy hell - that kiss was hot like fire.
It may have been seconds or minutes before he regained his senses enough to break away. Panting. Dazed. Confused. Wanting more.
Christ on a cracker.
"No," he managed to choke out, before forcefully clearing his throat and his head. "No, no, no! I am not gonna be another notch on your belt, dude! I don't care how hot that was!" And oh shit, he had totally not meant to say that. "Er..."
Too late. Chad smirked at him, and then leaned down to gently lick at the corner of his mouth. "You threw my belt overboard."
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
"For all your meditation and shit - you are one uptight fucker, you know that?"
"Shut up."
"You shut up," Chad teased, and then proceeded to shut him up himself. With tongue. It was a very effective strategy on Chad's part. "Let's make a deal, okay? You commune with nature and I'll..." There was more kissing, this time in the vicinity of Misha's ear, and damn if that didn't feel amazing, and ohhh... "I'll commune with you."
| * | * | * |