RockStarPeach

For uwalumni2. Who asked for Jensen/Misha who've been away for a while.

Title: Homecoming
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Rating: PG
Word count:1900
Summary: Jensen and Misha are best friends that have been separated for six months. Misha has been looking forward to Jensen’s return, but their reunion doesn’t go the way either of them had thought.

***

Jensen is a shithead.

Okay, so not really. He’s kind of the best guy Misha has ever met, but when it comes to that subtle communication crap, like those slight physical and verbal cues and the sly smiles and nods that tell him that Misha’s in love with him, for fuck’s sake, Jensen is pathetically, adorably clueless.

Which is why he took off six months ago to help his sister set up her brand new coffee shop half way across the country with only an ‘I’ll be back soon’ and a sharp clap of a hug around Misha’s back.

The prick. Like he didn’t know what that did to Misha, how that made everything worse.

How it might have meant something and made Misha pine because maybe.

But he doesn’t need to think about that now. Now Jensen’s sister is settled in, spent her portion of her grandmother’s inheritance setting herself up to sling caffeine just outside Seattle (seriously, just outside Seattle – he can’t make this shit up) and Jensen is on his way back.

No, not ‘on his way’, he’s back already. His plane landed in Wichita Falls three hours ago and Misha had to stop himself from meeting him at the airport. He’s been sending the jackass signals for going on three years now and Jensen told him not to worry about it, that he’d meet him later and if Misha went anyway it would be kind of sad.

Misha’s not sad. Not when people are looking.

The way he mopes around his apartment and picks up the phone only to hang it up again before he can call Jensen over and over is his own business. Shut up.

He waves his fist through a leaning tower of LEGO and smirks when it falls to the floor and the princess in the window at the top lands on her head.

He moves on and flicks Elmo in the nose, sending at least a hundred of his friends toppling down with him and considers levelling a Thomas the Tank Engine display. He’s destructive when he’s impatient, but he’s not suicidal and his day shift manager will kill him when she gets there in the morning, if he gets carried away.

Oh, Misha owns a toy store.

Maybe he should have started the story there.

Whatever.

He’s feeling playful and he heads to the Light Bright section to take his mind off things. Jensen will be there soon, promised to come as soon as he dropped off his bags at home. Which should have been ninety minutes ago, at the very latest. Misha checked to make sure his flight landed on time.

Not on purpose, just… he happened to be watching that channel and… Like he said, shut up.

He scowls to himself and skips past the happier toys, moves to the front of the store, yanks one of those finger boxing toys off the shelf and fights against himself until the toy is looking a little worse for wear.

“Seriously?” he hears from over his shoulder and he knows that voice. It’s the voice that he hears when he comes into his mattress at night, the voice that makes him want to roll over and beg. “You’ve been playing with that for five minutes and it’s broken already? No wonder your business is for shit.”

“Screw you, asshole,” Misha says, pulling his fingers free and fighting against his heart to get it to slow down. Sure he hasn’t seen Jensen in a damn long time, but that’s no reason to get all aflutter. He doesn’t have the damn vapours, for the love of God, no matter what it feels like.

Also, his business is fine. For the record.

“And what happened to your job?” he asks, placing his palms flat in front of a line of etch-a-sketches. “Oh, right, you got fired for stealing books. From the library. Where they’re free.”

“I wasn’t stealing books,” Jensen growls and Misha can hear his fist slam against the glass of the front window. Low blow, Misha knows. This is a sore spot for Jensen, somewhere Misha wouldn’t have ever gone if he wasn’t already pissy and insecure. And Jensen wasn’t stealing books. Not for himself, anyway. He was taking the books the library was getting rid of anyway and donating them to a battered woman’s shelter.

Management didn’t see things his way.

Misha stands up then and turns around, and when he does Jensen is right there, right in front of him and he’s got no space to breathe and he can’t help but take a step back. Jensen looks pissed, Jensen looks hot and it’s too much.

“You’re an asshole,” Jensen says, short and tight and not letting out any small amount of breath that’s not necessary. “Why I fuckin’ left in the first place.”

“And you’re a liar. It’s why I let you go,” Misha counters. He’s a liar too, but he’s betting Jensen won’t call him on it.

Jensen takes a deep breath and Misha is sure, absolutely sure for a second, that Jensen is going to punch him. It wouldn’t be out of character. But Jensen doesn’t. Instead he lets the breath out, laughs a little awkwardly and steps back, picks up a slinky and tosses it back and forth between his hands.

“Karen’s shop is good,” Jensen tells him. “Thanks for asking. Little bit of a rough start, but after some heavy lifting it looks like she’s gonna do alright.”

“Obviously,” Misha says. “She’s a smart girl.”

Misha takes a few steps and sits down at the child-sized table near the cash register, picks up one of the giant pieces of chalk and draws an equally giant X in the centre square of the sectioned board.

Jensen rolls his eyes but sits down as well, takes the chalk out of Misha’s hand and pauses when their fingers touch, makes a point of it before he pulls away and draws a circle in Misha’s top right corner.

“I missed you,” Jensen admits, when Misha grabs a new piece of chalk and marks an X on his middle left. Jensen just smiles and puts another O down along the top row, leaving Misha wide open for a win. “You didn’t call.”

Misha grabs the eraser from the side of the table and wipes their game clean. He teases himself with the idea of asking Jensen if he wanted him to, but he already knows the answer and he’s not that desperate for validation. He didn’t call, didn’t return Jensen’s calls, because he’s an asshole.

Because he tried to move on while Jensen was gone, find someone to fill up the empty space he left but it was useless. Jensen was never his lover, neither of them was ever sure they wanted to make that commitment, but the second Jensen’s plane took off for Seattle, Misha knew he’d been kidding himself.

“Been busy,” he says instead and cruelly leaves the rest to Jensen’s vivid imagination. He knows that Jensen will imagine the worst, imagine him with a different man in his bed every night when the reality is he’s been on all of four dates, all of them ending before the cheque came.

Something flashes in Jensen’s eyes, like he wants to reach across the kiddie table and grab Misha by the front of his shirt, shake him until he tells Jensen what he wants to hear, but he doesn’t. Misha’s half disappointed and half proud that Jensen has apparently been working on his temper, as well as his barista skills, while he’s been away.

They’re both quiet for so long that Misha figures Jensen is going to get up and leave, because this reunion, best friends back together after so much time apart that should have started in fierce hugs and ended in frantic fucking has gone so far wrong Misha can’t even see the turn it took anymore. Hell, maybe it was in the wrong lane from the start.

But just as he stands and kicks the tiny chair back towards the red plastic table, Jensen speaks, interrupts his moping.

“So here’s the deal,” Jensen says, standing up as well, his own miniature chair behind his legs. “You’re being a dick and I get why. I do. But knock it the fuck off.”

Misha doesn’t say anything just raises one perfect eyebrow and waits for Jensen to finish. He loves having the ball in his court. He’s just that kind of prick. Especially when they both know he’s the one head over heals in love in this situation. He figures it evens out.

“You’ve got two options,” Jensen goes on, stepping around the table so he’s a little bit closer, but still out of arms reach. “One, you admit you’re on your period and apologise and I’ll go home and come back next week.”

Misha can’t help but chuckle at that option but Jensen manages to keep a straight face.

“Or two, you suck it up and tell me you love me and you were miserable without me and you can’t imagine another day without me by your side and I might think about hanging around for a while. Up to you.”

Misha pretends to weigh his options carefully, frowns for effect and bites his lip, shoves his hands in his pockets and takes them out again.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” he asks and almost before the words are out of his mouth Jensen is on him, pressing him up against a shelf full of Star Wars action figures and he can only open his lips to Jensen’s mercy when Jensen’s mouth descends on his own.

And mercy is a concept Jensen is apparently unfamiliar with.

Because after less than ten seconds Misha’s tongue feels like it’s tangled in knots and his knees are weakened to the point the Jensen actually has to hold him up with a hand to Misha’s hip (which happens to be pressed against a fallen Princess Leah in Storm Trooper Gear) and his cock is achingly hard and trying to convince him to say whatever it takes to get Jensen back on top of him.

His cock can shut the hell up though, because when he finally tells Jensen that he wants to be his forever, he doesn’t want to do it under the influence of rampant hormones.

“That enough time?” Jensen asks, licks his lips as he steps back, letting Misha go slowly, so that he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

Misha blinks a few times and he knows he’s losing face by the second, but damn it, Jensen is just not fair.

“Not hardly,” he finally manages, and a few seconds later cracks a smile. Smirk, even. “But come on. I’ve got Dominoes set up in the other corner. I’ll think it over while we topple them.”

Jensen’s eyebrows lift and he looks around the store, takes in the evidence of Misha’s little tantrum earlier and probably adds that up with what he already knows of Misha. Which is unfortunately a lot.

“You didn’t knock them over already?”

The smile drops from Misha’s mouth, but his eyes don’t lose their happy shine as he takes Jensen’s hand and starts to pull him towards his very favourite toys.

“Nah,” he says, keeping Jensen’s eyes because this is important, this matters. “Was saving that for us.”

END