Reconciling Hollywood by Qthelights ppt

For the lasttwo years he's stuck to his guns and his assumption that Jensen is just a good guy who made a dickmistake back when he thought Misha was disposable.. "What's the point workin

Disclaimer: None of this happened, no disrespect intended

A/N: Dedicated to kadiel_krieger because it simply would not have gotten done without her constant

support and alpha/beta work at the times when I thought it would never amount to anything Many thanks

to blue_fjords for her read through, support and ameri-pick! and cupiscent for direction advice

Summary: Misha has always prided himself on his mastery of the first impression - both giving and

receiving After all, people are easy enough to read if examined through the appropriate lens For the lasttwo years he's stuck to his guns and his assumption that Jensen is just a good guy who made a dickmistake back when he thought Misha was disposable Pushed him up against a trailer door and tookbecause he could But now, with Jared overseas with his new bride, Jensen around more than ever, and

a decision weighing heavy on his conscience, Misha realizes that truly knowing Jensen might be nearly

as impossible as knowing himself

It's given him a fair amount of time to acclimatise, to creep silently around and get a feel for the set andthe crew He's only going to be around for a few episodes, but if anything, that makes him want to

understand more rather than less It's an opportunity to learn even more than it's one to pad the resume.

He has nothing to lose and unlike some other sets, this one is a blast The creative vibe appeals to him

in ways that working on 24 or ER never even came close to This isn't Hollywood; this is Vancouver, and

amazingly, everyone seems to want to be here - from the stars down to the set-dressers It's refreshinglynon-jaded and the enthusiasm everyone brings to the simple act of creation nourishes his soul

It's why he became an actor, after all To create

Jared is pretty fucking funny He hasn't had any scenes with him yet, but strangely, that seems to have

no effect on how much time he's spent with him Jared had loped up to him the first day he'd arrived andpulled him into a ridiculous hug like they were long lost friends, stage cried "It's my Angel!" and burst intouproarious laughter Misha had been grinning in seconds and hamming it up with him in minutes Jaredwas his kind of person - fucking insane and unafraid to behave like a kid because age decreed it

inappropriate

Jensen had been quieter, more reserved He held back and watched Jared maul him with a bemused

smile 'Don't mind Jared He's just five.'

When Misha replied gravely that he himself was rarely much past six, Jensen had laughed, soft andthroatily, and Misha could instantly tell that while Jared was the kind of guy he loved to hang around with,Jensen was the kind he liked to fuck

Not that he thought that was about to happen Two and a half weeks in and Misha's pretty sure Jensendoesn't swing that way Or at least, he doesn't swing Misha's way The protective glances thrown Jared'sway make him wonder Despite the early success at making Jensen laugh, he's not managed much of animpression since

Jensen's nice enough, absolutely Always checking he's good, pointing him in the direction of the rightpeople and trailers; being a perfect Texan gentleman, Misha assumes

But that's it, nothing more There's no banter or teasing the way he secretly observes Jensen and Jaredsharing in their down time between takes No arm slung over his shoulder or scripts run through together

No going out of the way to talk when there's no reason to Just cordial good behaviour when it can't beavoided

Secretly, he's starting to think that maybe Jensen's a bit of a jerk

He's been on other sets before, many of them actually, where the show was well established and themain actors insular and dismissive of guest cast Where the leads have snubbed him and not bothered tolearn his name, nationality or face And while he doesn't exactly get that impression of Jensen, can't faulthim on his manners, he also knows he hasn't been truly accepted He doubts an offer is coming

Which is a pity, he thinks, as he prepares for episode two of the season, because on screen they havesome pretty fucking epic chemistry

It's palpable, is what it is Dean's anger at the angel is a slow burn of bass Misha feels it in his boneswhen Jensen drops his voice, tries to match the gravel that flew out of Misha's mouth unbidden whenCastiel started to speak The anger Dean has, the resentment and pain is amazing, and the flash of fire

in Jensen's eyes when they're filming is just this side shy of too intense for an audience

And fuck but does Misha love it It's a tease, a flirt, sex in vowels and growls And he's not above playing

to it, not until a director or producer tells him to cut it out and tone it down They haven't and so he

continues Goads Jensen with his resonance and steps just that inch too close, another until he feelsJensen's breath, Dean's words, puff against his lips

He's a professional and he's working But Misha knows himself well enough to admit that if he didn't have

to work on remembering lines and hitting marks, he'd not have enough distraction to keep himself fromgetting hard As it is, it's a struggle

When Cas pushes Dean just that step too far, when Jensen's eyes glitter sharp and dangerous, Mishawants nothing more than to keep on pushing See what it would take to get Dean to fall away and Jensen

to push back

Preferably up against a wall

But then the director yells "Cut!" and Dean is gone, Jensen blinking and turning away Resetting,

calculating, picking up a script The tension is gone At the end of the day the most Misha gets is a 'Seeyou tomorrow, Misha.' He watches Jensen extricate himself as quickly as he can, sees the smile thatlights up when Jared comes into view

It's probably a little unfair that he thinks Jensen's a dick But to have that chemistry on screen and havenone of it translate off, even in friendship? An offer of a beer or an invitation to lounge in a comfortabletrailer and watch the game? The contrast is so sharp it smarts So he does what he always does, shrugsand places Jensen into the pile of people he doesn't need to worry about or get to know and enjoysJared's friendlier confrontations Ignores the way Jensen shuts up the second Jared's insanity falls onMisha It's not his problem and he'll be done soon anyway Live and let be miserable.

Which is why, two days later after filming the scene at Bobby's for the end of episode two, when Mishahas said goodbye to the crew, nodded at Jensen and headed out back to grab his things from the guesttrailer, he's rather surprised to find Jensen slide up beside him, grab his wrist and yank him in the

direction of his own trailer

He doesn't even have a chance to process, not that he would - he's much more a 'go with the flow,analyse the shit out of it later' kind of guy - but some advance notice might have been nice, he thinks, asJensen pulls him up the steps and into his trailer without a word Slams him up against the door in thedark

"Jensen, what-" he starts, but Jensen stops him by crushing his mouth to Misha's It's quite effective as itturns out

It comes out of nowhere, but Misha's not a fucking idiot He opens his mouth and lets him in immediately,finds Jensen's hips and pulls him in hard

Jensen's breathing is harsh and quick, his tongue slick and his hands hot where they slide under thetrench-coat and yank the too large shirt out of Misha's pants It's frantic and rushed and hot as all hell,even if Misha can barely see Jensen in the moonlight filtering in through the trailer's tiny windows

Jensen pulls back, nipping at Misha's mouth in a way so unexpectedly intimate and exposed that Mishadoesn't even know what to do with it So he chooses instead to slide his hands up under Jensen's t-shirt,

Dean's t-shirt, press his palms to Jensen's flesh and follow ribs back to shoulder blades, spine and dip

and ass and fuck, yes he thinks as he digs his fingertips into Jensen's ass, pulls him in and grinds his

hardening cock into Jensen's pelvis

He's slammed back pretty roughly into the trailer door for his trouble, Jensen's fingers hot and insistentunder his own shirt, fingertips clenching into the soft skin of his sides Jensen groans and Misha can feelthe answering hardness pressing achingly against his leg

There's a sudden influx of colder air as Jensen pulls back from him, then the pressure of hands on hiscrotch, rubbing the ache of him and Misha's keening low and deep in his throat His hips thrust intoJensen's hand of their own accord, not that Misha's about to stop them, not when Jensen's fingers are on

his belt, Castiel's belt, sliding and clinking and zipping and then just there, burning in their grip around him

through the soft cotton of his underwear Misha let's his head fall back with a thud against the flimsy wood of the door as Jensen begins to pull and pet and knead him with his hand Jensen's mouth finds itsway to his exposed throat and teeth are biting down on the tendons of his neck, mouthing and tonguingand nipping just hard enough to hurt but not to leave marks

faux-The frustration and anger and tension of the last few days, the suddenness of the onslaught and the factthat hey, Jensen is fucking insanely fuckable, combine and undo, and his hips are jerking in tiny little

hiccups and Jensen only moves faster, harder, rougher Goads him and works him until it's too much and

Misha is coming hard and painfully fast inside his underwear

Jensen's weight as he presses against him keeps him up, allows him a moment to breathe and regainequilibrium

It's not until Jensen moves abortively against his thigh that he remembers it's only polite to return afavour He kisses Jensen's mouth, wishes he could see if his lips are swollen, if they're dark and pink andwet, before he shimmies out from under him He turns Jensen quickly, presses him back against the walland drops to his knees on the dirty floor.

Misha doesn't waste any time, popping the button of Jensen's jeans and lowering the zip as fast as hecan carefully manage Jensen's breath gasps quick on the intake as Misha pulls down the band of hisbriefs and levers Jensen's cock out It's hot and broad against his palm and again, he wishes he had abetter visual than the silver-lit outline he gets He can feel though, and smell and taste, and all of thosethings tell him he wants Jensen against his tongue Wants to suck and coax and blow until Jensen'sspilling down his throat

And so he does

Jensen writhes above him as Misha tastes and licks, hollows his cheeks and pulls him in against the flat

of his tongue Misha feels his lips stretch around the width, gauges girth with his mouth and length withthe back of his throat Soft moans are spilling from Jensen's mouth and spurring him on, teasing andpulling until the moans increase in speed and intensity, punctuated with gasps and flutters of muscleunder Misha's palm where it's pressed flat to Jensen's stomach in anchor

Too quickly, it's over, Jensen's hands flying to Misha's head, tangling in his hair and holding him still as hethrusts in again and again Jensen's biting back a cry and spurting hot and salty against the back ofMisha's tongue, trickling down his throat

They stay there in the dark breathing and thrumming and growing cool in the chill of the air-conditioning.Eventually Misha rises, kisses the taste of Jensen into Jensen's mouth for a long minute, sedate andslow

The moment pulls tight and threatens to break and Misha senses it's time for an exit He does himself upand Jensen slides away into the trailer He pauses, hand on the door and tries to make Jensen out in thedark but he can't When he isn't stopped he slips out into the night, closing the door behind him with asoft click He stands in the dark a moment longer, a little stunned and a lot spent His head is too

muddled to attempt coherent thought, but deep down he suspects there's churning and doubt goingthrough it How could there not be?

When the light inside flickers on warm and bright, spilling out into the dark Vancouver night, Misha shakeshimself and hurries to his trailer to collect his shit before calling a cab

It's not until much later, when he's lying boneless and shower-warm in his hotel bed, that he realisesJensen never said a word

Jensen doesn't meet his eye the next day and Misha is disappointed, but he gets it He's there, he's freshmeat and Jensen is a guy so pretty that it makes sense he's used to taking what he wants when he wants

it It just happened to be Misha for a few insanely hot minutes

It makes him angry to be used so fucking easily, even if he was totally on board at the time He decidesJensen really is a dick; young Hollywood royalty with pockets of cash and eyes too big for their brains.They never talk about it, and it never happens again, which confirms to Misha that he was just new andconvenient - and that's all it was

Time passes, episodes go on, more get added and he almost forgets Jensen isn't a bad guy It turns out

he just needs time to get comfortable with an interloper in the midst They become friends Good friends

And Misha puts Jensen's behaviour, the cold freeze and snap thaw, down to a dick move by an okayguy It's cool, if slightly disappointing But people often are.

Filming wrapped three and a half weeks ago, three weeks ago he was back in LA and two weeks ago heflew to Kentucky He'd spent the visit in glorious silence; talking to no one, having no one talk to him Nophones, no internet, no twitter Just him Well, him and a half dozen monks But, generally speaking,monks weren't big on the socialising

Normally, it would have done him the world of good He's come to rely on those two weeks getting himthrough the other fifty each year Being allowed to slough off his masks, personae and commitments and

the restless need to be doing and just be Let his mind wander and sort through its mess of files, wipe

away the dust and clutter

He would come back serene, beatific smile on his face and often with an abundance of energy and theuncrushable need to talk the ear off of the first person who accidentally wandered into his field of vision;pin them down and subject them to his newly rediscovered theories of life the universe and everything.Except this time

Now, as he sits in his seat waiting for the plane to refuel - or whatever it is that's making a hundred or sopeople wait for takeoff for going on 45 minutes after boarding - he doesn't feel serene at all

In place of the low-level thrum of contentment at his lot in life that would normally be suffusing his bloodafter a retreat he just feels itchy

Partly, it's the cheap nylon fabric of the airplane seat that's scratching along his arms every time hemoves Partly, it's the 5 year old in the seat next to him getting sticky red sugar over everything while hisindifferent mother nurses a less-sticky baby from the aisle seat and the fact that they've been sitting onthe tarmac for the last 45 while jets come and go from the bays next to them

But he can't even blame the waiting on the feeling of annoyance prickling under his skin Not honestly,because he's been feeling it since before he unpacked his bags in the spartan stone-floored room thathe's called home for the previous two weeks Hell Even before that, but he'd thought that was just theyearly need for concentrated solitude

Apparently not

Something doesn't feel right It's been knocking him off kilter since the wrap party, since filming endedand Eric waved and said he'd be in touch Since Jared clapped him on the shoulder and told him not toget in too much trouble while he was off travelling the world with his new bride, asked him to keep Jensenfed and watered for him Since Jensen rolled his eyes and said he'd catch up with him over the break.Misha likes to think he's fairly self-aware Granted, often he deliberately doesn't analyse things that rock

and roll around in his head, but he's still fairly conscious of not thinking about them.

But what's got him slipping from highs to lows, eating at his nerves and slumping his shoulders, hehonestly has no idea He feels unsettled and out of sorts, and everything he looks at is coming throughthat filter It's depressing and emo and he doesn't like that he can't shake it Generally speaking he likeshis artistic bouts of depression to be deliberate forays into the accessing of dark emotions Days of woeand misery and snappish behaviour that only his mother would recognise from teenage years gone by put

on like a familiar coat when a little release is required A little petulance wallowed in for the sake ofappreciating the rest This though, is not deliberate

And frankly, it's beginning to piss him off

He'd wandered the gardens of the monastery, sat in quiet cavernous rooms, avoided eye contact andeaten food that, well, food was a generous way to describe it He'd scribbled in journals and burned thepages in acts of catharsis He befriended the monastery's marmalade cat Refused to talk to it when itrubbed up against his shins and pressed a fingertip to its nose when it mewled in a broken sort of way,because rules were rules after all, but he'd snuck it bits of cheese from the dinner table in apology Hemused on the nature of world domination and excess and happiness and all kinds of things Nietzschewould have had problems with

It should have let his mind unwind, soothed his jangled nerves and uncertain heart Rejuvenated his joie

de vivre But it didn't And that unnerves him more than anything.

His mood isn't being helped any by the gnawing hunger in his stomach, mind He'd gone with a no frillsairline to save a little money; by habit more than anything else given that he finally had enough money inthe bank to relax a little bit It meant no food was going to be forthcoming, even if they wouldn't serveanything until they were in the damned air Sure, he could spend an exorbitant amount of money on aminuscule bag of peanuts, but really, even his hungry stomach won't allow him to just throw money away,although he can afford it

Misha eyes the plump child next to him as it waves the lollipop around in a dangerous curve of sugarystain

He wonders what it says about him that he'd sooner consider stealing candy from a baby than pay tendollars for peanuts

Probably nothing good

Biting back a sigh, he turns his gaze out the window and tries to ignore the chatter of increasingly iratepassengers around him as he watches the sun shimmer off the tarmac in waves of heat After two weeks

of nothing but his own head, the noises seem sharper and more insidious, ricocheting around his craniumand settling an ache down in the base of his skull It's all a little too much

Idly getting his phone out, he taps around the internet for a few, thinks about twitter and in a rare fit ofsanity thinks better of twittering his snark out into the world Which should be a clue as to just how notright he's feeling

When he gets back to LAX he was planning to just catch a cab, or if there's a wait, the bus He used tohave half the bus routes in LA committed to memory from rambling excursions, auditions and general life.

It alarms him that he can't even bring to mind the number of the route he'd get from the airport back tohome When did he lose that?

Fuck it It's too much and too hard and though it pains him to do it, he finds himself bringing up Jensen'snumber, sending a text

misha collins: up wall candy from bb taxi = can't be fucked send driver prty pls? wn645 mci to lax 5:23.

Jensen's driver, and Misha can't even believe that he has something as celebri-bratty as a 'driver,' isactually a pretty good one Punctual, discrete, quiet It's the quiet that Misha is focusing on right now.God help him but he doesn't think he can handle having to make small talk with a chatty cab driver Notafter the almost four hours he's going to have to be in the air in a small enclosed cabin of sheer noise.And that's assuming they actually take off sometime in the next century

His phone vibrates in his hand and the screen lights up with the blue bubble of Jensen's answering text

jensen ackles: no worries consider it organised safe flying and don't eat any babies.

Misha follows through on the sigh this time, relieved that he has one less thing to think about Plugginghis earphones into his iphone he selects music at random and leans back into the seat, wills the time tosnap and bend and deliver him to Los Angeles before he can blink

Somehow, as a cherry-flavoured candy is brought down on his knuckles followed by a delighted pitch laugh and a frazzled "David!", he doesn't think it will

high-* high-* high-*

Exiting the main terminal Misha heads straight for the outside world All he has is a duffel with his nowdirty clothes so there was no need to check any luggage, no need to jostle at the carousel or scrutinizeeach bag to make sure it was really his His nerves feel even more frayed, tension jangling down hisspine with each step closer to freedom 'David' had not behaved himself on the flight And while normally

he might try and engage the little human in riddles and puzzles, teach him the importance of a liberaleducation or celery or some such nonsense, the red sticky film covering his jeans and sleeve had madehim disinclined to play nice

Instead he'd glared at the mother, who it turned out was fairly immune to death glares from random surlystrangers given she was dealing with a bratty kid and baby and traveling on her own She'd just

shrugged, what am I going to do?, and turned back to trying to get the baby, currently whimpering on the

verge of bawling, to feed Consequently, the last 3 and half hours Misha would really really like to forget

Or possibly drown in a haze of alcohol

The light of Los Angeles is bright, even in the wavering afternoon sun, a solid wall of white encroachesinto the gloom inside Misha shields his eyes with a cupped palm, gaze searching for the black town carand suited driver

He can't see it, or him, and he can already feel his blood pressure nudging up a notch when he glancesright once more and sees Jensen instead, leaning casually against his dark blue SUV in the pick-up/drop-off lane

Not what he was expecting

What the hell? The idea was for someone to pick him up so that he didn't have to interact He can

already feel his inner brat aching to lash out and wound, despite the fact that all that has happened is thatsomeone has done him a favour It wasn't one he asked for

Misha carefully schools his face into poker blank, smiles tightly as he approaches Jensen's smile is wideand lazy in comparison

"Hey," Misha says when he's close enough for Jensen to hear "What happened to your guy?"

Jensen shrugs lightly, still smiling He pushes off the car and offers out a hand to take the bag slungacross Misha's shoulder "Had another engagement, thought I'd save him the trouble of calling around.How was your trip?"

"Um, yeah good," Misha says, momentarily thrown by the change in plans He lets Jensen take his bag,watches him throw it in the back seat and open the drivers side door With a shake to bring himself back

to reality - because really, Jensen picking him up is not something that should fucking throw him - hesteps forward, opens the car door and hitches himself up into the seat

Jensen pulls out into the stream of cabs and traffic inching towards the exit, fumbles in the glove

compartment and pulls out a pair of sunglasses to slip on Misha wishes he had his with him

"You really didn't have to pick me up I would have gotten a cab."

Jensen snorts, glances at him but Misha can't tell what his expression is beneath the mirror of the lenses

"And have your pretty ass all pissy at me for the whole summer?"

Misha lets his lip curl in a wry smile "So really, it was just because you're a selfish prick who doesn'thave Jared as entertainment for the summer?"

This time Jensen grins "Pretty much."

"Lucky me," Misha retorts, does a passable job at keeping the sarcasm out of his tone He turns his gazeout the window, watches the industrial wasteland blur past the window Welcome to LA

He waits for Jensen to say something Defend considering Misha a bff-sidekick-replacement while Jaredtours the Andes or Vesuvius or whatever the fuck he was doing Question him further about the trip.Start yammering on about the latest call from Jared or, fuck, talk about how he separates his lights fromhis darks for all Misha knows He really doesn't give a crap what the talk is, he just knows he doesn'twant to do it

But strangely, Jensen remains silent And it's not even uncomfortable Jensen seems happy to playchauffeur, navigate the freeways and smog, happily eating up the road, one hand on the wheel, fingerstapping lightly, the other resting loosely on the gearshift

Misha's surprised, and kind of grateful

He leans his head back against the headrest and dozes in the afternoon sun

When he blinks his eyes open again he's outside his own house and Jensen's hand is warm on his wrist,softly waking him with a tap

"Go get some rest, man You look beat," Jensen says gently His sunglasses have migrated to the top

of his head and Jensen's eyes are a dark olive in the fading light

Misha can only nod in agreement, he reaches between the seats and hauls his bag over.

Tugging the door handle open though he pauses, blinks sleepily at Jensen, back-lit by the orange-tingedsmog sunset He gestures with a wave at the steering wheel "Thanks for the ride Sorry I went

He'd managed to clean the terrarium, at least Although that had only gotten him his fingers snapped atfor the trouble Turtles had no sense of fucking gratitude Terrapins, man

It's when he's standing in the lounge room, actively contemplating just plonking himself down on the

couch and doing nothing, or even worse, buying a fucking television, that he finally gets sick of himself,

weird mood be damned

He heads back into the bedroom, sidestepping the weird assortment of sports equipment, art suppliesand strangely disturbing fan-given pony collection, and finds a pair of shorts from what's left of the clothesquotient Pulls them on and slips out of the sweater he's wearing to leave just his ratty old gray UC t-shirt One sneaker he finds underneath the bed, but it takes a brief re-arrange of mess to locate the otherunder an errant lacrosse stick that he didn't even know he possessed until two days ago

He likes to run It's his thing Jared and Jen can have their ridiculous custom gym follow them around onset, but Misha isn't about to set foot in it anymore than he's gonna hire a personal trainer to the stars Or

a bodyguard Or a stylist

He's done just fine without such things for 34 years, and a good portion of those years with a great dealless, like houses or money, for example And there's just no good way he'll ever be able to justify havingsomeone pick out his fucking shirts for him Even if he only has about five

What you can do, rich or poor, is run And so he runs

Locking the door behind him and slipping the key into his sock, Misha makes his way out into the

unseasonably chilled Los Angeles air He heads north in the direction of the Santa Monica mountains,starting out at a walk and then easing into a slight jog The pavement is jarring under his feet, hard andunforgiving despite the spattering of pine needles, but even that begins to fade as he lets the calminginfluence of the repetition soothe him

The world narrows down to step after step, the crunch of gravel His breathing sucking in and burstingout The burn of his muscles as they stretch up his calves and thighs

It allows him to just be.

Beside him houses begin to blur out of focus as his mind focuses inwards It'd be awesome if he couldjust reach in and rearrange some shit Move some piles of detritus, clear out some old crap, do a bit oflight dusting Unfortunately, he's fairly sure it'd be about as useful as the closet cleaning had been theother day Though possibly his brain matter wouldn't end up all over the floor

There may also be fewer ponies

Or maybe not

The air is cool on his skin, washing away the heat of sweat that threatens to break He can feel thetension loosen its grip on his lungs as the streets turn into other streets The slow ache of tirednessthreatening to overwhelm, to draw him to little more than a crawl, but he pushes on, ignores it and leaves

it behind until nothing is left but the nirvana of nothingness Freedom

The thing about running, Misha long ago learned, is that it requires nothing but time, and while it

accomplished little tangible, it was head and shoulders above doing nothing with the same time And so

he could do it and not feel guilty about putting aside the chore of conquering the world

He lets his mind wander, swim in the emotions that have been plaguing him in the hopes that a 'why' willcome to the forefront Nothing is forthcoming, but it does pull into focus the fact that something is makinghim antsy Being back in LA helps, being home And maybe that's all it is, just an epic case of

But really, it wasn't until he moved to LA that he felt like he'd found somewhere that was his A whole city

of class clowns Artists and poets, strangers and vagrants, wanderers, hippies, idealists, pessimists,creators and the clinically insane His kind of people People with stories and dreams And it wasglorious

Every time he's away, it feels just a little bit better to be home again The irony isn't lost on him that theone time he gets his creative big break, filming Supernatural, it's away from his city of creation And ifhe's honest? He resents it Just a little bit

Perched up high on horizon of the hills to his left the Hollywood sign glints in the early morning light It’s

an absurd sight, the giant white lettering in the midst of the mountain, so incongruously unnatural that hequite adores it Labelling a mountain in the name of superficiality Often he focuses on the sign as hejogs up and down the hilly terrain, lets himself muse on the nature of celebrity and production, the history,

the future Art gone viral Today he lets the sign slip from his gaze, focuses on the ground at his feetinstead.

His shoes thud against the pavement rhythmically, catatonically, until he looks up and finds he's gone acouple miles without realising it and he loops around in a large circle through his patch of Los Angeles,cuts back past the golf course north of his house Palms mix with Eucalypts and the grass is splotchywhere the summer heat has bested it Around him people run and bike and rollerblade with their dogsalongside A couple practices Tai Chi under the shade of an old Oak, movements slow and graceful Ahomeless man sleeps on a bench, covered in tattered robes

He doesn't stop running until he's turning back onto his street, down the sidewalk and up the stairs to hisfront door, lungs heaving at the exertion and sweat running down the length of his spine, dipping underthe band of his shorts and following his tailbone downwards The house key is warm and sweaty whereit's been pressing against his ankle

Misha isn't in the door two feet when he hears the twin noises of the iphone default ringtone and theglassy purr of the phone as it vibrates against the top of his coffee table The name that flashes up is

"Jensen" and Misha can almost convince himself that the rigidity flooding back into his muscles hasnothing to do with the person calling and everything to do with the outside world intruding It's not like heknows he's wrong, either

The heat of his thumb leaves a trail of quickly disappearing condensation when he swipes his thumb overthe lock

"Ackles What's up?" He greets, tries to calm his breathing rather than huff into the phone

"Hey," Jensen's voice comes back to him, warm and deep in his ear "Get some sleep?"

Which was three days ago, and if he hadn't, he'd probably be in a coma by now, Misha thinks

offhandedly, but whatever

"Yeah, much better," he white lies, "Nothing like a bit of enforced sloth."

Jensen chuckles, "Right." There's a slight pause, and Misha can hear something clatter lightly in thebackground before Jensen continues "So I forgot the other day, but I saw Eric last week and he gave mesome stuff for you Looks important Did you want me to drop it off, or you wanna swing by and pick itup?"

Even Misha isn't a good enough actor to fool himself at the clench of mild tension that sweeps throughhim He knows what the papers are Eric indicated that they'd be coming before he left the set Still, hedidn't think he'd get them quite so soon

Suddenly a lot of the weirdness his brain has been putting him through the last couple of weeks starts toslip into place And the image that clarifies comes entirely out of left field

Huh

Misha realises that he's probably expected to answer Jensen's question, given that no one else is going

to "Oh Sure How about later this afternoon?"

"Sure I'll be home Dog-sitting the brats."

Misha is pretty sure that means Jensen is looking after Harley and Sadie Or he has a pretty weird dollfetish Either or

"Anon, then."

Jensen replies in the affirmative and Misha ends the call, stares contemplatively at the screen until itblinks dark Briefly, he considers just not turning up, or leaving the state, hell, the country, for a little bit ofstress-relieving madness Go treasure diving in Mexico or drink yak milk in Mongolia or something Then

he considers that he's being ridiculous, and no matter what the papers that await him are - and he's fairly

sure he knows exactly what they are - they aren't worth worrying about until he has them.

With a shake of his head he heads for the shower

The turtles take no notice

be up at 3am (whether he has to go to bed before 2) rather than whether tomorrow is Monday

When he pulls into the drive of Jensen’s place, all palms and pillars and about three times the size ofMisha’s place, even if still paltry by Hollywood standards, there’s already a battered truck in the drive next

to Jensen’s SUV He doesn't recognise it

Jensen answers the door in jeans and a flannel shirt Bare foot His hair is flat and messy, Texas-chic.Country-rock music that Misha can’t identify swirls out around Jensen from inside

“Hey, you’re here.” Jensen smiles, easy and wide, an expanse of white teeth on display Time off suitshim Jensen is relaxed and it’s obvious Gone are the dark circles that makeup has to cover on set, bodyposture lax and fluid

It hits Misha, unbidden and unexpected, that Jensen is fucking attractive Reminds him just why it wasthey hooked up all that time ago, when Misha was just new meat and Jensen not a co-star and thinkingsuch things wasn’t fraught with politics

Misha finds himself grinning in response, holds up the 6 pack of beer he picked up at the liquor store onthe way over “And I brought barley-based toxins to imbibe.”

Jensen’s smile broadens further, and he ushers Misha in with a warm hand on his shoulder “In that case

you are even more welcome.”

“You just want me for my beer, don’t you?” Misha deadpans, follows Jensen into the house

Jensen leads the way down the corridor, past the entry foyer and lounge He glances over his shoulder

and winks “Your beer and your body, Misha Don’t ever forget your sex appeal You’re very pretty too.”

Misha snorts "Says the pretty boy himself."

"Takes one to know one," Jensen volleys back easily and it's perfectly junior high and a conversation thatusually Jensen would have with Jared Despite that, Misha thinks he could get to like this relaxed version

of Jensen

Jensen turns into the living room and Misha follows Out the bay windows he can see Harley and Sadiesleeping in the shade of a massive oak, Harley's head resting on Sadie's side Icarus is trotting aroundthe garden sniffing and pouncing at things, oblivious to the heat.

Inside, a massive plasma screen TV and stereo system taking up an entire wall It's the source of themusic blasting through the house And no wonder - the speaker setup is one of the nicest Misha's everseen It's new; apart from the fact that the surfaces gleam sleek and fingerprint free it also wasn't herelast time he visited He'd remember He lets out a low whistle and Jensen laughs

"What's the point working so fucking hard if you can't play with the proceeds?"

"Indeed," Misha says, though he isn't sure he agrees with the sentiment Having pretty things is all welland good, but if you had no time to enjoy them anyway "I won't even ask what this set you back."

"Less than Jared's corvette," Jensen shrugs

Misha raises an eyebrow "Probably less likely to kill you too."

Jensen nods, but his attention is elsewhere as he heads to the coffee table nestled in amongst the plushwhite couches and crouches down, starts rifling through a stack of mail and papers Half way through thepile he finds what he's looking for and pulls out an over-sized yellow envelope Misha ignores the way hisheart thumps as Jensen springs up and holds it out to him with a flourish Across it is written "MishaCollins - Private and Confidential" in big black lettering

"Courtesy of one Eric Kripke," Jensen says "You know what it is?" Jensen asks, but the way he asks ittells Misha that Jensen's already guessed

Misha shrugs, aims for nonchalant, as he takes it He mutters thanks and stuffs it into the satchel slungover his shoulder that rests at his hip

Jensen frowns and Misha fights the urge to reach forward and poke his forehead smooth again "You aregoing to-" Jensen begins, then seems to think better of it, forces his features back into a smile "Beer?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Misha says, because suddenly he's parched and in need of saying a giantadios to sobriety

"Between you and Kane I may not get a fuckin' drop." Jensen rolls his eyes

"As in Abel?" Misha asks with a raised eyebrow He follows Jensen back to the main corridor and in thedirection of where he thinks he remembers the kitchen being

Jensen laughs "As in Christian You guys met, remember? At that convention wherever it was."

Which doesn't clear anything up, and Misha's shit at names so he just says ah, yeah vaguely and hopes

it wasn't one of the idiot Young Hollywood guys Jensen sometimes has a habit of hanging out with Allsmart mouths and beanies and not a single brain cell between the lot of them

The guy lounging over the newspaper at the long white marble bench that takes up most of Jensen'skitchen, long hair escaping from a messy ponytail, flannel shirt, jeans and bare feet, is way too scruffy to

be the type though Misha thinks he maybe remembers the guy, perhaps a passing intro at a noisy clubone time? But Abel aside, he doesn't really remember him from Adam

Jensen motions Misha towards one of the bar stools, takes the beer around behind the bench and slapsChris lightly on the lower back to make room as he passes by to place the alcohol in the refrigerator

Chris looks up, grins at Misha in a slightly disturbing predator meets prey flash of teeth "Hey, man."

"Hey," is all Misha volunteers back

Jensen pulls already cold beer from further back in the fridge, twisting off the caps and throwing them intothe sink with metallic pings "Chris, you remember Misha?" Jensen asks, hands the man a beer andslides the other over the counter to Misha

The grin widens "Not a fucking bit."

It catches Misha off guard and he laughs "I'm not the only one with poor recognition skills," he says andtakes a swig of the beer in his hand

"My recognition skills are just fine," Chris drawls, strong Southern twang dripping out "I remember thefolks I need to." It comes with a wink

Jensen snorts, finishes his mouthful and turns to Misha with sarcasm "It's his alcohol consumption skillsthat need work If he can't remember you then he was clearly smashed."

Misha's pretty sure there's a compliment in there, which is strange but amusing He takes anothermouthful of beer, feels it slide cold down his throat to his stomach He settles into the stool he's perched

on, quite happily prepared to watch Jensen and Chris bitch back and forth like at a tennis match

Chris' eyes flash, but Misha reads humour "Careful, boy I can still whoop your pretty ass and have yourmomma thank me for it."

The eye-roll is exaggerated, but Jensen concedes ruefully "Unfortunately, both those things are fuckingtrue Remind me again why I'm friends with your redneck ass?"

"I give fucking amazing head," Christian replies without missing a beat and Misha chokes on his beer like

a teenage girl at her first luau

Jensen is laughing, loud even over the spluttering, as Misha tries not to spit a lungful of beer over thebench Generally speaking, Misha does not like to be laughed at - he prefers to be the one doing thelaughing - but the low rumbling chuckle coming from Jensen's clear amusement is not mean-spirited.Much

He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, pretty sure he's gone red, and shakes his head at thetwo of them "Well that was embarrassing People are going to start to think I can't handle my drink."Chris grins around the mouth of his beer "Or that you don't get good blowjobs."

"You can think that, if you want," he says nonchalantly but with a smirk Attempts another swig of beerand this time manages not to hock it up over the company "It won't be true, but you can think it."

"Oh, really," Chris leers, interest piqued, leans himself further onto his arms across the bench and spinshis beer bottle around with his index finger

Misha grins and says nothing He knows that silence is the best form of tease, but he can't help butnotice that now it's Jensen who has gone quiet, leaning against the sink watching them talk

"Well, boy, don't be a cocktease Do tell," Chris baits

Misha smiles wryly, brings the bottle to his lips "A gentleman never sucks and tells," he says and lets thecool glass rub against his lips for a split second - and he knows exactly how that looks - before tipping it

up to get to the liquid

Chris laughs so loud it echoes in the white confines of the kitchen "Hell, I dunno why I don't remember

you I musta been fucking four sheets to the wind."

"Told you," Jensen says matter-of-factly

Misha finds himself oddly humbled that Jensen has been telling people that he's worth knowing It'sunexpected, to say the least They're friends on set, absolutely, but Misha's never kidded himself thatthat means anything much other than trench camaraderie Friendship is pretty similar no matter whereyou are: good as long as it's there but not missed if it falls from your field of vision long enough

Maybe it's more than that, though He finds himself smiling at the thought

"In that case, Misha," Chris says, pulling his name out like taffy, "you have to come to the gig Saturdayafter next."

"Sure," Misha nods amicably, though he isn't sure what the gig is, exactly He knows Jensen has lots ofmusical friends, but keeping them all sorted out was never his thing

"Done deal." Chris nods, all bets final "Starts at 8.30 The Hotel Café See if you can get pretty-boyhere to leave the house without something pussyish on."

"Pussyish?" Misha queries over Jensen's annoyed objections It doesn't enter his head to wonder whyhe'd have anything to do with getting Jensen to leave the house

"Pink Shiny Gelled Fucking Hollywood."

Jensen steps forward and cuffs Chris across the back of the head "Just because you can't pull offmetrosexual, bitch."

"Metrosexual my ass," Chris snipes, "you just don't want your little fan parade to catch you without yourhair done Afraid they won't wet their panties for you anymore."

"Classy," Jensen observes, deadpan

"My middle name," Chris says and pats himself Tarzan-like on the chest He turns back to Misha, fauxserious, "My boy here is all above his raisin' Money and fame gone clear to his head You though- "Chris pauses, looks Misha up and down with a slow smolder that is only slightly less effective for the tablecutting his view in half, " seem normal See if you can't bring him back down to size I sure as hellhaven't had any luck."

Misha snorts, "Well I don't see why you think I'll have any more success."

Chris just grins "No?"

Which Misha doesn't even have a clue how to interpret and a glance at Jensen finds a blank mask, eyesboring into the back of Chris' head When Chris himself glances back at Jensen, he must see more thanthe blank look Misha sees, because suddenly he's changing the subject Something about baseball orfootball, or really, for all Misha knows, gymnastics Whatever it is, it gets Jensen animated and vocal andback at the bench with them, so Misha just sips his beer and observes the interplay

This Jensen is one he hasn't really seen before Sure, the Texan came out every now and again on set,especially when he and Jared were beyond fucking tired, unable to open their mouths wide enough to rollconsonants out.

Still though This Jensen, the one kicking at Chris' denim-clad shinbone with a bare foot, hair messed upand clothes too large and faded to be anything but comfortable, laughing and drunk with flushed cheeksand dirty humour is different So very relaxed and non-guarded It's intriguing

Misha likes intriguing

He ends up spending the remainder of the afternoon in varying degrees of drunkenness The killer

headache he knows he's going to have in the morning is a worry for then and not now Now, there is

meat, cooked way too rare for his liking, and copious amounts of beer Jensen loose and grinning, Christalking shit, Misha telling stories that are so intricately invented even he has trouble keeping them

straight All in all, it's a pretty fucking awesome afternoon and Misha finds himself sliding into it like awarm bath after a long day, willfully ignoring the yellow envelope stuffed into his bag

* * *

It's the next day, closer to dinner than breakfast given the earlier state of his head, when Misha pulls theenvelope out of his satchel After he finds it that is, dumped inside the door to the spare bedroom forsome unknown drunken reason

He slides his finger under the not-so-tacky gum of the flap, opens the envelope in a jerky back and forth

It is of course what he knew it would be: His contract renewal for Season Six And Seven

Briefly, he thinks about taking the pen off the table and scrawling his signature across the lines marked byneon 'sign here' stickers, taking it down to the post box on the corner and sending it back Done, decided,and over with But something won't let him pick up the pen The same something that he realises hasbeen tying him in knots for the last few weeks

Because when it comes down to it, he doesn't actually know that he wants to sign.

And all at once the thought makes him feel nauseous and ungrateful

Who the fuck is he to turn down the opportunity he's been wanting since he started this acting lark?When it gets handed to him on a fucking gold platter, or at the very least, a golden envelope, why should

he think he can even contemplate turning it down? After all those years when he had next to nothing,wanted nothing more than enough money for rent and food

He fucking loves working on the show He isn't lying when he says that it's the best set he's ever worked

on Jared's constant farting and fucking around aside

But somewhere down deep he knows that signing these pieces of paper is going to seal his fate It's thedeal breaker; his career Right there in black and white And he isn't sure he fucking wants it Doesn'twant to turn into someone who buys a flashy car or a sound system just because he can He spent timeliving in a fucking car, for Christ's sake, and it weren't no Corvette In the back of his mind, he's alwaysassumed he'll be a starving artist; an out of work actor who picks up commercials here and there, maybe

a one liner or two, but spend his days eking out an existence fulfilled more on his whims than his wallet

To sign these papers feels like signing away his soul, proclaiming himself 'actor' and 'Hollywood' and,when he digs down deep enough, 'sell out'

It doesn't matter that it's illogical.

Feeling the need to get out and run the confusion away, he leaves the papers, unsigned, on the kitchentable The table that he built with his own fucking hands because he wanted it to be real, to mean

something And because he didn't have the money at the time to buy a new one

* * *

Three

The contract remains unsigned for days, burning a metaphorical hole in Misha's table He's okay withleaving it there, as it turns out And as Eric hasn't called to inquire yet, though Misha is under no illusionthat he won't, he figures he's got a least a few more days to stew unhappily over them Maybe a week,tops

He has always found that he does his best thinking when he's not doing much at all Generally, changing decisions are best left to life to decide and human interference just makes things messy

life-When he was interning at the place that he doesn't like to name anymore, surrounded by bitchy politiciansand star-struck staffers, he knew, deep in his gut, that it wasn't going to be for him Changing the world, ithad seemed, was not done where people traditionally thought it was Still, it had been a big decision.When his internship was up he could easily have stayed on He was smart enough, popular enough -and wasn't that just the most ironic thing ever - to have been offered an actual position

But the best and the brightest turned out to be kinda vacuous and moronic So he'd known that it wasn'tgoing to work out, that he was going to abandon that particular life's ambition and follow some other path.Yet at the time, even contemplating something like giving up the freakin' White House was one of thosethings that he was fairly sure had deserved what people called 'serious thought' Problem was, everytime he tried to think about it, he started to feel ill So he just didn't Put the decision off, day after day,week after week, until when the hour came and he had to make the decision whether to stay or go, itturned out he'd already made it

His subconscious is sometimes awesome like that

Clearly, therefore, when faced with a moral and financial decision of the same magnitude, and probablythe same amount of moronicness and vacuity, he needs to stop thinking And at least knowing what it is

that he's meant to not be thinking about helps It doesn't stop the occasional roiling feeling in his

stomach, but at least he knows he can ignore it Unlike the itchy unsettled feeling he's been dealing with

in the interim

On the sixth day after he comes back from the monastery, he decides he needs to flex his creativemuscles and so he calls a few of his crazier Los Angeles friends and before he knows it he has a whole

posse of people meeting in the park to make something He doesn't know what, exactly, but he knows it

will be an adventure and that's all he ever really asks for

He's about to head out, late morning, a basket full of possibly useful things he's picked up off the floor andfrom various cupboards - paper, plastic, glue, sparkles, rope - when his phone starts mocking him fromthe coffee table in an apparent attempt at deja-vu It's Jensen again

"We have to stop meeting like this," Misha says by way of greeting

"True enough," Jensen replies with a chuckle "So what are you up to?"

Misha juggles a roll of cling-wrap from the kitchen drawer that sticks when it isn't opened at just the wrongangle The basket is over his elbow and he tries not to drop the phone.

"Did you call to ask me what I'm wearing, Jensen?"

Because seriously, since when does Jensen call to just chat?

Misha's brain supplies unhelpfully: since his best friend buggered off and got married, and now you're the

default option.

He ignores his brain, as is often wise

Jensen's laughing in his ear, and Misha can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at thesound

"I'd say yes but you'd tell me it was something see-through and frilly and scar me for life."

Misha snorts, "Or I'd tell you I was naked." He roots around in another drawer looking for scissors andtape He knows he had ample quantities of both, once

Jensen makes a huffing noise that Misha can't quite decipher He stops his searching for a moment andtries to focus on the call

"But actually," Jensen says after a pause, "I'm bored out of my fucking skull here Thought you mightwant to catch a movie or something?"

"Are you asking me out on a playdate, Jen? You really must be bored."

The chuckle he hears is warm, but soft Misha decides to take pity on him "I can't do a movie right now,

as I have epic shenanigans to get up to But maybe tomorrow or something?"

Jensen ignores the peace offering and focuses on the rest, "What kind of shenanigans?"

"The usual," Misha answers He knows its cryptic, but he also knows how outside people usually react tothe shit he gets up to He's in no mood to be laughed at today

"Ah " Jensen says and there's that awkward pause again

Misha bites his lip He knows what he's about to do, even as he know's it's an epically bad idea

Fuck it.

"Do you want to come along?"

"Seriously?" Jensen sounds curious

He shrugs, forgetting that Jensen can't see him "It's probably going to be a bunch of hippies and EnglishLit majors sitting around making macrame or some such shit I imagine it will bore you to Dean's oneperfect tear But if you want "

He leaves it open, deliberately And truthfully, he kind of hopes that Jensen will beg off Tell him he's justthought of something he absolutely has to do right this minute, like iron his socks or something He wants

to make shit today Not play nice or be on good behaviour.

But then Jensen asks him when and where and he finds himself giving the address in Griffith Park andtelling him to bring whatever he thinks might be useful for taking over the world If Jensen sits aroundmoping or makes fun of the rag tag group of people who will turn up, invited or not, then Misha is going to

be absolutely fucking pissed

* * *

As it turns out, he has no need to be

They've garnered a small army by the time Jensen turns up Only a couple of whom Misha even knows,but he's good with that Adores the fact that by virtue of coloured paper and a pile of odd junk they canattract similar souls from all through LA like a homing beacon for creativity

They're littering a corner of the picnic ground, blankets strewn and people chattering, cutting paper,sewing things together The perimeter of the group is a wasteland of bicycles, abandoned boxes andbags., their erstwhile contents - an assortment of materials and paints, metals and wood - cluttering thespace in amongst the ill-formed circle

Misha himself is knee deep in tissue paper and a kind of homemade glue - flavoured with glitter - a fairdeal of which seems to have migrated to his hair He's talking to a pretty redhead girl he knows he has

no hope of remembering the name of He's pretty sure though that it was something to do with theweather They're chatting about the nature of lipstick feminism in the current era and how it relates tometrosexuality when Jensen approaches across the lawn

He has an armful of green plastic garbage bags and what might be rolls of cardboard, his impressive SLRcamera strapped over his shoulder Proving that Misha really doesn't know Jensen at all as much as hethinks he did, Jensen walks up with a grin

"Hey I wasn't sure what to bring so I grabbed the first things that came to hand."

Misha finds himself grinning in return, drying bits of glitter-glue pulling taut against his wrists and the back

of his hands as he reaches out to clap Jensen's shoulder in greeting

"Awesome That's perfect actually," he adds, surveying the mess of craft materials littering the grass

"We needed something sturdy to build over."

Jensen drops his bundle of materials in a spare patch of grass to be pounced on like live bait in a sharktank, and Misha watches him glancing around, can practically see the cogs turning in his head

"And you're making what, exactly?"

There's no judgement there, so far as he can tell anyway, only curiosity, and Misha realises that Jensencoming along might not turn out to be a bad thing at all

"Hot air balloon."

Jensen turns to him, eyes slightly wider, clear excitement showing on his face "Will it work?"

Misha just stares at him askance "Are you serious? Of course it will."

A blonde girl, he thinks she was called Megan, pipes up from across the group "Misha won't let us gohome until it flies."

Laughter greets her proclamation and so Misha can only answer one way: dictatorially "That's right Soyou better all get with the program Sew those fingers to bloody nubs."

Jensen laughs and pulls his camera around his shoulder to his chest "I see you're the same

megalomaniac in the real world as you are on set."

Misha cocks his head, aware as he does that it's pretty reminiscent of Castiel-confused "Who else would

I be?" he asks, genuinely interested in Jensen's answer

Jensen shakes his head, bemused "Sometimes Misha, I just don't know about you You have moremasks than the rest of us combined, and yet you act like it's all just you."

Which kind of dumbfounds him He's put Jensen down as many things, but acutely perceptive isn't one ofthem

Jensen doesn't notice Misha's sudden lack of language though, busy flicking switches on his camera andtwisting the lens into focus "I thought I'd do some photography, capture some of the mayhem, if that'scool?" He turns to Misha expectantly

"Um yeah That's fine Snap away, Cecil."

And Jensen is off, introducing himself to the rag tag bunch of artists and friends of friends, quietly clickingoff photos and changing lenses Misha goes back to his glue making process and discussing the newhumanist manifesto with Rain or Blizzard?

Maybe it's 'Sudden Downpour'

He wonders what her last name is, something boring probably, like 'Smith' or 'Jones' Sudden DownpourJones Now there's a name for a baby Much better than 'Castiel'

* * *

He'd almost be willing to say he forgets about Jensen being there in particular If that is, he wasn't keenlyaware that his eyes follow Jensen around the group the whole afternoon Jensen isn't shy or retiring, notreserved the way he is around fans or serious the way he is when acting He isn't even the goofy fouryear old or harangued single mother that Jared vacillates between necessitating of him At variousstages Misha watches him laughing with a woman who's sewing pieces of tissue paper together in acolourful wall of autumnal browns Showing someone's little kid how his camera works and letting himtake photos, sitting quietly with Mr Suzuki, one of Misha's elderly but young-at-heart neighbours andtalking intensely

In two weeks and as many meetings he's seen sides of Jensen he didn't even realise Jensen had Which

is ridiculous and pretty superficial of him really, to assume that the one side of Jensen he sees every day

on set is the sum total of his being And yet, he sort of has

It isn't even a bad side that he sees everyday, bar the occasional actorly flounce or that one time theydon't ever acknowledge Jensen is a great guy, he's kind and thoughtful and takes his craft just asseriously as Misha does In terms of acting, Misha gives Jensen his due, the man is good They'vebecome friends, slowly Hanging out on set, catching a beer with Jared after work Laughing and jokingand mucking around Backing each other up when Jared won't leave either of them alone long enough toget a good take Generally speaking, he really likes Jensen

But apparently, he doesn't even know him

As Misha sews large banana leaves with thick twine, using a ridiculously large needle that keeps prickinghis fingertips, the thought makes him wonder about things that never were They've never talked about

that night He's always assumed Jensen thought it was a mistake, or that it was just a thing - both of them there in the right place at the right time Or hell, maybe it was just Jensen seeing and taking

because he could It's not something Misha condones, but he was just as willing to let Jensen take at thetime, and so he doesn't think he can fault him for it Even if he does judge, just a bit

Truth be told, Misha thinks that if Jensen had turned up that next morning, caught his eye or pulled himaside for something more, he probably would have gone for it But Jensen didn't and so neither didMisha Especially since he was the new guy on set, only meant for a couple of weeks, and fucking that

up was not a good idea And once he'd gotten over the fact that maybe, just maybe, Jensen was

occasionally that guy, he brushed it away.

Clearly Jensen wasn't, and isn't, interested in a repeat, or 'more' He hasn't even thought about it muchsince, really Except for the random, and in Misha's mind, entirely appropriate, thoughts about just howfucking pretty Jensen could be How pretty that mouth would look wrapped around Misha's fingers, or hiscock

The thoughts are harmless and un-acted on, and he's never one to deny a thought that has no bearing onreality, no possible way to cause harm

Still He's watching the afternoon light settle over Jensen where he's kneeling in the grass, holding downthe corner of a sheet while Monsoon Season the stiletto feminist (she'd been upgraded) smooths it outand joins it up with the piece held by the dreadlocked guy that they'd acquired after lunch Jensen's eyesare crinkling in amusement, dark stubble he's left haphazard scruffing his cheeks and throat He's tannedfrom the LA sun and the long-sleeved t-shirt is old and well-worn, clinging to the lean muscles of his arms.He's always known he'd fuck Jensen again, given the chance He's only human after all But it's neverreally occurred to him that maybe he might like to see if there's anything else past simple sexual attractionthere

Until now

* * *

It's late in the evening, dusk falling, when they finally assemble the various sheets of tissue paper andplastic into something resembling a balloonish shape Heavy on the 'ish' Jensen stands back from thegroup, camera to his eye, palm wrapped around the lens and index finger on the shutter button

Misha lets the more engineeringly inclined in the group figure out how to rig up a bottle of somethingflammable to remote control and instead slips further into the dark, sliding up next to Jensen His cheeksand nose are radiating heat where he's slightly sunburned, and he's glad he wore a long-sleeve t-shirtdespite the heat of the day

Jensen laughs as the group erupts into jeering disagreement at something The chuckle is a low rumblethat Misha feels under his ribs Then Jensen's glancing sideways and catching Misha's eye "Thanks forinviting 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."

Jensen laughs, knocks his shoulder against Misha's "You live in a crazy-fucking world, but I like it."

"Me too," he says quietly, finds he doesn't have a sarcastic quip to add.

A cheer goes up at the same time as a flame bathes the faces of the group in a warm yellow hue Theballoon fills and actually rises, which is more than Misha thought it would Makes it up about 20 feet, infact, before the tissue paper catches fire and the balloon self-destructs in a ball of flash and burn to thelaughing shrieks as everyone runs to escape falling debris

Jensen captures it all in series, the soft insistent clicking of the shutter chattering to Misha's left

The sunburn and the dropping temperature make Misha shiver, and he absolutely doesn't acknowledgethat he leans in just a little closer to Jensen for warmth, in the dark Ignores the fact that Jensen lets him

"Mister Jensen," he answers, settles the phone into the palm of his hand, picks up the coffee cup in hisother

"Hi," Jensen says and he sounds sleepy and soft It absolutely does not make Misha think about whatJensen might be like to wake up to At all

"Bored again?" he asks when nothing more seems to be forthcoming He sips at his coffee carefully so

as not to burn his tongue

Jensen chuckles "Not exactly, but I was wondering if you'd wanna come to a premiere thing I said I'd go

to tonight Last minute cancellation."

Misha licks coffee off his lip He highly doubts that it's a 'last minute cancellation' Much more likely isthat Jensen can't find anyone else to go with given his other half being away Still It's the thought thatcounts

He has to admit, he's kind of curious to see more of Jensen outside of filming and conventions Theglimpses he's had over the last couple of days are tantalizing, and he never could resist figuring out anew puzzle Especially one he thought he'd placed the last piece in over a year ago There is, as far ashe's concerned, nothing sexier than being proven wrong when you're dead set sure you're right

But there's no need to be mature about it

"Couldn't get a prom date?"

"Fuck you, man," Jensen huffs, but there's no malice in it "Thought it might be something you'd enjoy."

"You know Jensen, it'd be much easier if you just admitted that you wanted me We could stop playing allthe coy cat and mouse games," he says, holds his breath to see if the sarcasm plays or pierces

"Funny, Collins Funny In or out?"

Misha grins; he's so totally in "Pick me up And if you're lucky I won't wear heels that make me tallerthan you."

"As long as you're wearing clothes, Misha? I'm not going to complain." Jensen's voice comes deadpandown the line

Misha feels the laughter bubbling up his throat, silent but more genuine for it "When do I need to bepretty by?"

"I'll swing by around 6 Oh and there's a thing afterwards that might be cool See how we go."

Misha has no idea what such a thing might be, but he finds he agrees with the sentiment They'll see howthey go

Disconnecting the call and swallowing down the last of his coffee, he folds up the newspaper and gives

the contracts underneath a contemplative glance, a maybe, before he heads to the bedroom to find his

running gear It's a fucking gorgeous morning out there and he damn well needs to be in it

* * *

He's surprised when Jensen picks him up with a driver As he slides into the backseat of the towncarnext to him he remarks as such Well okay, he may also put it in terms of prom dates and limos Jensenjust tells him to shut the hell up

Which Misha can appreciate He likes it when people don't let him get away with crap As long as it

remains novel and not modus operandi.

They chat on the short trip into the city, Jensen talking about his parents and siblings and the phone call

he got while trying to get ready The aversion of World War III

Misha knows who all the players are, of course, it's not like Jensen doesn't talk about personal things onset Still, something feels strangely different about the intimacy of the moment And it takes Misha most

of the car ride to realise that it's because he's hearing it unedited Not the continuation of a story startedwith Jared, nor annotated by Jared himself - already in on the details as if they were his own family Andconsidering how long those two had been living in each other's pockets, Misha supposes they probablyare

A brief thought flits through his head that it's either awesome to be trusted with primary details or insulting

to be substitute-Jared He isn't sure which it is, evidence that his image of 'Jensen' has been severelyfucked with in the last week and a bit It's both intriguing and unsettling, so he pushes the thought away.When they pull up outside of the Landmark's Regent Theatre in Westwood Misha is once again surprised.Firstly, that Jensen has effectively just done a huge circle around Los Angeles to pick him up and bringhim back to his neck of the woods and secondly, that they aren't at some swanky red-carpet blockbusterevent If they're at the Regent then it's going to be something independent Something artsy Foreign.Something, in other words, that Misha might have a fair chance of enjoying

The world premiere of Loot had been at the Regent, almost two years ago to the day, and Misha hasalways had a slight soft spot for it because of that

It is however, a premiere, and so there is, in point of fact, a red carpet, but it's shallow and small, and thepeople Misha can see wandering up it are unknown Not that he's very good at picking out celebrities

anyway, he doesn't watch enough to memorize them and his facial recognition is screwed up enough thateven if he does, he doesn't trust the name that flits past to match the image.

Still He's fairly certain none of the people currently in his field of vision are a Brad or an Angelina Notthat it's stopping the small but persistent handful of photographers snapping away at anything that

moves In the land of celebrity it pays to shoot now, ask questions later So to speak

One of the least interesting parts of the ‘job’ as far as Misha is concerned is pandering to celebrity Andwhile he doesn't exactly like doing all the ridiculous publicity – he recognises it for what it is: a means to

an end to get to things he does want to do – he pretty much feels it's intrusive and stupid He can handle

a red carpet, no sweat, he just obfuscates and charms Doesn't mean he won't feel like a right moron atthe end though

Pulling his jacket straight, he falls into line beside Jensen as they make their way to the security guys andthe cordon Jensen pulls out tickets and they’re waved through with nothing more than a nod Jensen’sbeen doing this much longer than he has, or at least, with a lot more recognition involved, and so Misha isexpecting that he’ll at least do some of the rope line He’s resigned himself to the fact

But that isn’t what happens

They’re only a few feet onto the carpet when Jensen looks up towards the front of the line and smilesbroadly, teeth dazzling in the spotlights He waves an enthusiastic greeting and with a quick glance back

at Misha to make sure he’s following he heads quickly up the line, dodging behind the people currentlyensnared like krill to the sea urchins of greedy reporters on the rocks Misha keeps in step with Jensen,trying not to bump into people as they hurry towards whoever it is that Jensen’s seen at the end of theline

He hears at least one reporter call out Jensen’s name, but Jensen just glances over with a promised “Beright back.” The guy calls again, but quickly turns to the fresh meat behind them

When they reach the end of the carpeting, Jensen ducks in through the doors and the sudden darkness

of the theatre lobby, quieter and less frenetic, despite the amount of people milling about There’s no onewaiting to catch up with them though Jensen stops and turns to Misha, grinning

“Old trick I learned from an anti-social friend once Gets you through the line without being hassled orpissing off paparazzi.”

“Dude,” is all Misha can think to say, at once impressed and somewhat turned on by the devious turnJensen’s nature has just taken

Jensen winks “You can thank me later C’mon Let’s get something to drink.”

* * *

The movie turns out to be pretty good, although Misha is sure that if someone asked him to recount theplot there’d be some pretty sizeable gaps in his rendition It isn't that the movie is boring, far from it, it'sheart wrenching and well-directed and the lead actress is extremely attractive in a non-Hollywood wayand not at all bad at acting

It's just that every now and again Misha’s attention wanders to Jensen sitting beside him Perhaps more

again than now The heat radiating off his thigh where it almost brushes his The way his fingers curl

over the arm rest and he grips tighter unconsciously in the sad parts The way the movie light flickers inhis eyes if Misha glances out of the corner of his own

If it isn't for the thought that Jensen might snatch his hand back, Misha is almost tempted to try

something Maybe just run a finger down the outside seam of Jensen’s jeans or accidentally brush armsalong the armrest

He doesn’t though, because in the back of his head he’s pretty sure it would be unwanted After all, ifJensen had been amenable to more than a quick fuck, well, he would have acted like it two years ago Ifhe’d wanted something more, there were 24 months in which he could have made a move, suggestedthat an advance wouldn’t be turned down

He hadn’t

So Misha keeps his hands to himself He tries not to feel like a fool for even contemplating it Though of

course, if it weren't for the fact that Jensen had been the one to drag him into his trailer and pull an

orgasm out of him with nothing more than his hand on Misha’s cock, and mouth on his neck, well, he’spretty sure he wouldn’t even be contemplating a repeat performance of the night right now either

Whatever If Jensen is going to be a dick about that then he certainly isn't going to be putting himselfthrough the embarrassment a second time A quick fuck is all well and good one time, but twice and he’dstart to feel used

When the credits roll and the lights come up, he’s almost convinced himself that he isn’t actually

interested in Jensen anyway Until he turns to say something and finds Jensen staring at him

contemplatively, eyes shadowed and body angled toward him

“What’d you think?” Jensen asks

“Good,” Misha affirms, hopes Jensen doesn't quiz him on specifics

Jensen smiles softly “Worth being my prom date for a night?”

Misha laughs, “Yes It was worth being your Sasquatch.”

Jensen’s brow furrows “Jared?”

“I assume you’d normally be doing this stuff with Jared is all,” Misha says

Jensen just looks at him, pauses a millisecond too long in which Misha thinks shit though he doesn't even

know why, before he says “No Jared would never let me drag him to a movie like this He’d never be able

to sit still through it.”

“Oh,” Misha says He doesn’t know what else to say, senses that something has shifted, that somehow

he’s said the wrong thing

“You aren't the replacement, Misha,” Jensen says, turns away to stare at the credits still rolling on thescreen

“I just meant,” he begins, but Jensen turns back to him, smile suddenly in place and slightly wrong

“Forget about it I know what you meant How about we go to the club?”

Misha wants to say no It’s not his scene, it’s never been his scene and never will But he knows he’sfucked up somewhere, though he can’t imagine how And Jensen has already proven himself twice in thelast three days, surely he deserves the benefit of the doubt?

Plus, he kind of wants to follow him Just a little.

Misha nods “Okay, sure.”

Jensen's smile widens, though it still seems to twist strangely He pushes up out of his seat “Awesome.Let’s get outta here.”

And so they do, Jensen walking on ahead quickly, Misha trailing a half step behind

* * *

Five

The driver pulls up outside a red-carpet that is much more active than the one at the premiere had been.They’re outside the Trousdale and Misha can already tell, although he isn’t sure that he’s actually heard

of it before, that it’s one of the ‘it’ places right now

The scantily dressed women lined up out the front, the burly bouncers with metal detectors and thehaughty looking door-bitch, the row of limos and drivers lined up down the street Yeah, Misha is prettydamn sure he isn’t going to enjoy this

Fuck

But Jensen is out of the car far too quickly to be anything approaching normal and Misha has to hustle tokeep up Jensen goes straight to the bouncers bypassing the line and half the people waiting bend andstretch to see who the person is that’s famous enough not to have to wait

Misha doesn't have a problem using fame for things, as long as they're things he thinks he should get byvirtue of being a human anyway Respect, decency, manners Sometimes being famous means theopportunity to remind people of those things Celebrity that buys tables without reservations, entrances toparties, gift bags of gadgets for people able to afford them with couch change, has always seemedridiculous Even worse is the fame that buys consequential things, a voice when other people had none,money for people already most able to make it No, Misha has never been squared away totally with thepower of celebrity to get things above and beyond what an average human is entitled too

Apparently, Jensen has no qualms with it

Jensen leans in and says something to the woman standing behind the muscle in 5 inch heels andsmaller than 5 inch strip of leather masquerading as a skirt, and by the time Misha catches up the ropesare being held aside and they’re up the stairs and through the heavy metal doors before the rope evenlatches behind them

In the grand scheme of things, jumping a line to get into a mediocre club is not something that Misha isgoing to throw a fit about He has no intention of standing in line, but then again, he would also ratherskip the line and club both The fact that Jensen doesn't even seem to question it though? That raiseshis hackles Threads a feeling of disappointed resignation through his nerves in the way he hasn't feltaround Jensen since they first met And fucked

And okay, he's being slightly ridiculous, letting it get to him when it's nothing at all worth caring about Buthe's off-side and feeling like he pissed in someones cornflakes and he's not in the mood to be charitable.Inside, it's fucking loud, a strong bass beating and pulling at the air around them It’s dark and smoky,purple and green strobe lights swirling the packed dance floor Misha appreciates music He appreciates

immersion in as such, getting high and existing in it, admiring the intricacies of it, being in it What's

playing here, so loud that he thinks his ears might begin to bleed, is definitely not music Not by any

standard Misha has, and he likes to think his standards are pretty loose It’s syrupy and peppy in

amongst some kind of gangster rap baseline It may be Britney Freakin’ Spears

Jensen barely looks back to see if Misha is still in tow before he’s off towards the packed bar, musclingthrough the crowds with a lascivious smile that would melt butter if given half the chance It works, allowshim to sidle straight up to the bar in seconds, girls and guys alike swooning away to giggle behind theirhands Misha hangs back, watches Jensen chatting up the girl behind the bar Once again, he’s foundanother side of Jensen This version is cocky and sure of himself, aware of his appeal and using it to fulladvantage Gone is any trace of the reserved, 'hang back and wait guy' that Jensen usually is amongststrangers

He turns and looks around the club, at the waifs dancing and the booths huddled in pools of shadow,holding celebrity and money and keeping it safe but on display The epitome of what everyone elseshould aspire to, yearn for

Jensen is back with two Corona’s in hand, limes sticking out of the necks

“Fly problem?” Misha asks as he accepts the one offered to him Wishing it were just about anythingelse Wishing Jensen had actually asked what he wanted

Jensen frowns at him, “What?”

Misha shakes his head “The lime…you know what, never mind It's not true anyway So, why are wehere again?”

Jensen shrugs but then looks around the room studiously Halfway through the oscillation he grins andpoints into the far corner “That’s why.”

Misha peers into the darkness but can’t make anything out Turns out that isn’t a problem though whensomeone in the area stands up and yells “Ackles! Get your pretty ass over here!”

Jensen grins at Misha and then is off, threading through the dancers and drinkers and sweaty, scantilyclad people, Misha struggling to keep up

The corner is sectioned off, another VIP rope barring their way for all of two seconds before it’s lifted ontheir approach The area is raised slightly away from the rest of the bar, something that reminds Misha ofnot being unlike a pedestal Low velvety couches line the sides, cushions and coffee-tables scatteredbetween On the couches are an abundance of gorgeous young people None of whom Misha knows.Jensen is immediately enfolded in an immense bear hug by the guy Misha supposes is the one whoyelled his name out Manly back-slapping ensues Misha stands back and tries not to feel like a promdate that just got ditched for the head cheerleader Quarterback Whatever

“Fuck, Ackles Haven’t seen you in a fucking age man, where the hell have you been?!” The guy grins,falling ass backwards into a corner couch in a lazy sprawl Next to him is a blond guy, slumped back intothe cushions, feet kicked out into the middle of the room, a petite redhead girl straddling him

Unsurprisingly, they're making out Misha thinks get a room before realising he just aged about 50 years.

“Vancouver.” Jensen deadpans in response “Where the fuck you think I've been?”

The guy laughs like Jensen’s just said the funniest thing ever, slaps his knee and gropes for the

abandoned beer bottle beside him “Sit your ass down, fucker And who’s your friend?”

It’s sneered lazily, perhaps meant to sound amused, and Misha takes an instant dislike Jensen plonksdown on the couch to the guy’s left “This here is the angel Castiel, aka Misha Collins.”

Misha rolls his eyes, sits himself down on an ottoman in front of Jensen resignedly The blond guy pullshimself out from underneath the girls lips, though not, Misha notes, from under her altogether He stares

at Misha, eyes hooded and dark in the low lighting, lips swollen obscenely Misha thinks he recognisesthe guy, one of Jared's friends perhaps He isn't sure

“'Meeesha'?” the new guy questions in lieu of saying hello, rolls the name across his tongue in a purr

“Weird name.”

“Hollywood,” Misha replies blankly, takes a swig of the watery beer

“True,” the guy grins, hands coming around the girl on his lap to fondle her ass “Least you aren’t named

‘Apple’.”

“Yes,” Misha allows

Jensen seems to realise he's been remiss at introductory duties and finally waves a hand back and forthbetween Misha and the guys "Sorry, Mish," Jensen says, and Misha arches an eyebrow at the suddennickname use Jensen indicates the blond guy-girl combo, "You've met Chad right? Jay's friend? Andthis is Mike Rosenbaum From Smallville."

Apparently the girl currently octopussing Chad doesn't get a mention Which Misha would be pissed off at

if it weren't for the fact that she turns around and stares at him, glassy eyed and wet-lipped and pointedlydoesn't bother to object to it

"Ah," Misha replies, because he doesn't have anything else to say to the introductions He vaguelyremembers Jared going on about a Chad As for Smallville He's heard of the show, sure But he doesn'treally know what it's about Let alone who stars in it

"It's about Superman," Jensen adds, well aware that of Misha's many hobbies, watching television isn'tone of them

Rosenbaum lets out a low whistle "Jesus Where the fuck have you been the last ten years," he asks

Chad is sniggering next to him Actually sniggering Did people even fucking do that?

It's on the tip of his tongue to answer 'White House,' but somehow he doesn't think these guys would getthe irony he'd say it with "I don't watch television."

He knows the snippish answers are making him sound petulant And kinda Amish But he doesn't give afuck really The company's shit and the club is atrocious and he's wondering where the hell the niceevening he was having with Jensen has gone to crawl away and die

Rosenbaum is laughing still "You don't watch television, you just act on it?"

Misha shrugs and takes a long pull of his beer Sooner he's finished the sooner he can skip out Chadand the unnamed redhead have gone back to dry-humping in public

Jensen leans into Rosenbaum conspiratorially, a hand placed on the guy's splayed knee "Misha's a freespirit He made a fucking hot air balloon the other day In the park."

Misha glances sharply at Jensen, he knows he hasn't had enough to be even slightly tipsy, so whateverthe hell is going on, it's deliberate And shitty

Rosenbaum's eyebrows rise in what Misha thinks looks like mocking condescension, but could be justsurprise Before he says anything though a blonde girl who had her back to them is whipping aroundand insinuating herself into the conversation.

"Really? A balloon? That is so fucking cool," she says, eyes sparkling under miles of eyeliner She lookslike a raccoon She angles herself towards Misha, leaning down just enough that he gets an eyeful of hercleavage

"Easy, girl," Rosenbaum grins "Meeesha, here doesn't need your skank ass falling all over him beforehe's even finished a drink."

Her laugh is a trilling grate "Shut up, Mike You're such a fucking cunt."

Rosenbaum erupts into raucous laughter, clear over the noise of the god-awful thump of the music as itchanges to something techno and equally horrid Jensen laughs too

Undeterred the blonde turns back to Misha As do her breasts "Seriously A balloon? That's just sofucking random I love it! I bet you write poetry and save whales and shit too, right?"

"He does," pipes up Jensen and when Misha turns to glare at him, because since when was Jensen

fucking 22 and a bitch Jensen at least has the decency to avoid Misha's gaze and guiltily suck down his

beer

Again, Misha finds himself shrugging He's starting to feel like Marcel Marceau here All he needs issome fucking face-paint He's also never saved a whale in his life, nor intends to with any particularfervor, but he gets the point

He doesn't do shit because it's cool or artsy He does it because he can and he enjoys it Somehow hedoesn't think that shit will fly in this crowd He suspects Jensen knew as much when he brought it up

A flat-chested girl with a pixie cut and sparkly hot-pants comes bouncing in from the right, throws herselfdown next to Jensen and hooks her legs right up over his thighs, stilletod shoes coming to prod againstRosenbaum's legs She looks familiar and Misha's fairly sure she's also an actor There are still nointroductions forthcoming of any of the females present

"Hey, Jensen! Long time no see How are you, babe?"

Jensen grins, arms coming up to encircle the girl "Good Better now you're here." He says it with a dirtywink and a growl in his voice and Misha thinks he just might throw up in his mouth It's so stupidly put on

as to be beneath Jensen Far beneath

Misha has no idea what's going on and he fucking hates it Jensen has turned into some kind of

celbribrat in front of him, drinking Corona and fondling the nearest piece of ass, hanging out with dicksand doing a pretty convincing job of being one himself It doesn't gel with the quiet intense guy who was

at the park with him, nor the relaxed happy one at his house

There are puzzles and then there are fucking mind-games And Misha's just about had enough of this;sitting up on a pedestal with undulating masses of pretty vacuity all around him If Paris Hilton turns up,he's going to fucking kill himself Or squeeze the lime in his eye

The girl in Jensen's lap fucking giggles as Jensen mouths at her neck, and the blonde is trying to catch Misha's eye, and Misha has had it He's done He stands up, leaves his half-drunk Corona on the table

beside him