RockStarPeach

Title: I Called You Sweetheart
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Jensen/Misha, implied Misha/Sebastian Roche, slight Jensen/Jared (mostly friendship)
Summary: Jensen and Misha were high school sweethearts, now they’re college sweethearts and they’re well on their way to being sweethearts through finishing grad school, to joining the workforce, to becoming little old men, screaming at kids to get off their lawn. A few weeks ago, though, Jensen messed up. Big time. He let flattery and curiosity and base desire get the better of him and he crossed a line. He cheated.
Now he has to deal with the repercussions of what he’s done, and the possibility that Misha might not be as able to forgive him as he’d hoped.

MASTERPOST


The infamous Chad shows up with his girlfriend about half an hour later and the four of them join the party. There’s plenty of booze, there’s a giant bowl of leftover Halloween candy and there is a table piled high with about a dozen different pizzas.

There are two televisions set up on either side of the room – one is tuned into the party at Times Square and there’s a Nintendo Wii hooked up to the other, where people spend most of the night alternating between Super Smash Brothers and Rock Band.

The people are nice enough, even though most of them are sophomores, at best. They’re loud and gross and they’re having a wonderfully immature brand on fun that Jensen hasn’t indulged in in a few years, at least. He feels his extra few years acutely, every minute. Feels out of place, like some creepy loser who can’t make any friends his own age.

He’s not so sure after all that this was a better idea than sitting home alone, but it’s better than hanging out with Mike, or Rob or Justin. At least the kids here don’t know him, don’t know what he did (with the exception of Jared) and won’t silently judge him for being a cheating bastard.

He mostly minds his own business and helps himself to a few drinks and after about an hour or so, he’s buzzed enough that most of his discomfort has worn off.

At some point, Jared has a go at vocals on Rock Band and he sucks so bad that with six shots of tequila and three beers in him, Jensen can’t stop laughing for a full five minutes. Jared and his friends manage to coax Jensen into taking a turn, though the fourth beer that Chad shoves into his hand probably helps.

He manages to suck marginally less than Jared did, which he counts as a win and halfway through Chad’s brilliant guitar solo two songs later, they hear the countdown start. Someone hits pause and everyone grabs a drink and the entire room starts to chant along with the television.

“Seven, six, five!” people belt out and scramble to fill their glasses. Jensen’s happy enough at the moment to raises his glass on “one!”, but he can’t help the way his chest feels tight and he finds it hard to swallow when the new year rolls in. He and Jared lean back against the wall and watch pretty much everyone else in the room pair up to share a kiss, and his lips sort of tingle. He was twelve years old the last time he didn’t have someone to kiss at midnight.

He very pointedly doesn’t wonder if Misha is kissing someone right now. He doesn’t want to torture himself. Instead he turns his head and smiles at Jared.

“Mortal Kombat?” he suggests.

“Hell yeah!” Jared agrees, and less than five minutes later they’re back in Jared’s room with Chad and Jennifer and Jared’s old Playsation.

***

Chad and Jen take off around two in the morning. A bunch of people are suddenly struck with a case of the munchies that stale mini-Twix bars can’t cure so they head out to the twenty-four hour convenience store a few blocks away and Jared’s friends walk with them, to the bus stop.

Brian’s bed is glaringly empty when the door closes behind the couple, but Jensen follows Jared onto the bed with the pink heart pillow, to hear more stories. He almost feels guilty that he’s not doing much of any kind of talking, he’s not holding up his end of this tentative friendship they’ve got going by letting Jared in on any of his experiences or habits or plans for the future.

It’s all been so very one-sided so far between them, but Jared seems to get that, seems to think it’s okay, at least for now and he fills in Jensen’s blanks. And God, he smells good. Shit, it’s possible Jensen went overboard with the Jager shots.

They’re lying side by side, staring at the ceiling and Jared is waving his arms around, talking animatedly about the film class he signed up for that starts next week. Jensen was always a little more muted about that kind of thing, about every kind of thing, really and Jared’s enthusiasm makes him smile. Jared makes him smile.

Jared makes him a lot of things.

Before he knows what he’s doing he’s rolling onto his side, burying his face into the crook of Jared’s neck. He’s warm and soft beside Jensen, a welcome feeling after being so lonely for so long, but he’s too tall and the angles are all wrong. It’s different, so very different and he knew this was a bad idea, but Jensen is starting to suspect that Jared is some kind of warlock, cast on a spell on him or something, because despite everything, he can’t stop himself.

Doesn’t really want to.

“Jensen?” Jared asks and his body gets a little stiffer. Jensen pauses for a moment and doesn’t think about how wrong this is. Okay, he does, but he ignores it. “What… what are you doing?”

He doesn’t know. Fuck, Misha doesn’t know and Jensen doesn’t fucking know. This is a mistake. This is a horrible, horrible mistake, just like the last time, because if he goes through with this, Misha might not ever take him back. Misha wanted a break, so they’re breaking, they’re… Jensen is doing what Misha wants here, so why the fuck does he feel so guilty?

Fuck, he’s way too drunk for this.

“You’re so hot, Jared,” Jensen mumbles against his shoulder, opens his mouth to press his lips to Jared’s collar bone. He licks over the skin and Jared shivers under his touch, doesn’t push him away. “God, you’re so hot. And you’re nice,” he says, rolls further on top of Jared and Jared whimpers a little, spreads his legs for Jensen to fall between.

“Jensen…”

“I mean, you’re a genuinely nice guy. Not a lot of people are. Fuck. And you’re funny and smart and fucking adorable. And you know it, too.”

“Jensen,” Jared says again and it almost sounds like a warning, a plea. But Jared tilts his head back further and his arms close around Jensen’s back, so Jensen closes his teeth down over Jared’s jugular and thrusts his hips forward.

Jared’s hard, Jensen’s hard and they both gasp at the contact. It feels good, so fucking good, but it doesn’t feel right. Jensen doesn’t care. He grabs Jared’s head between his hands, tilts it down and kisses him. It’s harsh and demanding and Jared opens to him, lets Jensen’s tongue inside and pushes against it with his own. He bites at Jensen’s lips and claws at Jensen’s back and his legs wrap around Jensen’s and pull him down.

For one brief, miserable moment, Jensen thinks that this is actually going to happen.

But then Jared pushes at his shoulders, turns his head and sucks in several deep breaths while Jensen’s head falls to Jared’s chest.

“Jensen.”

“You’re amazing,” Jensen tells him, still breathing heavily into Jared’s shirt. “This whole thing… It’s all because you’re so… Shit. It’s because I’m a selfish jerk. It’s not… It’s just so easy to like you.”

“Jensen, we can’t do this,” Jared tells him. Jensen goes willingly enough when Jared rolls him off and to the side. “You think you want this now, but you’re drunk and you’re just gonna hate yourself when you sober up. Hell, I’m gonna hate you. I don’t deserve to be dicked around like this.”

“Jared, I…” Jensen starts. He wants to deny it, but he can’t. He’s not over Misha, doesn’t even want to be. Misha might need time to figure out what he wants, but Jensen already knows. Anything that might have happened here tonight wouldn’t be fair to anyone.

“I get it,” Jared stops him. “I really do.”

“Because you’re awesome,” Jensen mumbles.

Jared smiles.

“Because I’m awesome. And because I wasn’t lying when I said that I’m over you, but.”

“…But?” Jensen shouldn’t care. Jensen doesn’t care.

“But you’re pretty awesome, too. And I’m eighteen years old. There’s only so much I can take before I say ‘fuck it’, you know?”

Jensen laughs then, a little. He rolls all the way over, onto his back and he shuts his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s never been in Jared’s situation, never experienced a want like this that he couldn’t follow through on. Not until now.

“Just… let’s get some sleep,” Jared suggests. “Tomorrow we can have pancakes.”

Jensen closes his eyes tighter. Pancakes are his favourite.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and lets Jared pull the covers up over them, while they turn so they face opposite directions. “French toast is good, too.”

***

Classes start up again a few days later and Mike doesn’t really ask if Jensen is planning on staying with him very much longer, but Jensen takes the hint anyway and rents a room on the ground floor of Jared’s dorm building. The university only charges fifteen bucks a night for students who need a place to crash after a late study session or need to be at school for an early class, so it’s affordable, at least. It’s not intended as a long-term housing solution and he’s got to share a room with three other guys, but he could tell he was starting to cramp Mike’s style.

It’ll do, for now. He’s not anywhere near the place where he needs to find himself an actual apartment. If he keeps putting it off, maybe he won’t ever have to.

Morgan is on his ass for the final draft of their journal paper and Mike still wants to hang out every other day but Jensen manages to get himself back on track. He’s ahead in his classes, his thesis is coming along faster than he’d planned and the paper for Morgan should be done in a week or two, tops.

He hasn’t spoken to Misha since Christmas, Jared since New Year’s, and he’s beginning to think social exile is working for him.

Then he bumps into Jared one afternoon as they’re both entering the dorm and instead of the stilted conversation and awkward avoidance Jensen had expected, they wind up at the campus pub sharing a basket of chicken wings and a pitcher of beer.

And the weird thing? He doesn’t want to jump the guy. Not even when they get a little tipsy and have to prop each other up on the way back home. Jared’s touch is good. Really fucking good, and if Jensen were to sort of step back and squint, yes, he’d absolutely fuck him. But as it stands, he doesn’t want to.

Jensen’s having a hard time reconciling that new development with all his previous experiences with the guy, when Jared lets out an incredibly loud burp.

“Dude, gross!” Jensen says, gagging a little and waving his hand in front of his face. He pushes Jared away and they both stumble slightly. “I can smell what you had for breakfast, man!”

They laugh then and suddenly it’s like all that sexual tension was never even there.

***

The Green Hornet comes out in theaters and Jensen plans to see it with Mike, but he calls on Saturday afternoon and tells Jensen he can’t make it. Kristin has finally agreed to go on a date with him and Mike didn’t want to argue when she said it had to be today, which Jensen totally understands. She’s way out of his league and Mike needs to do what he can to nail that down, so he doesn’t hold it against him.

Besides, Jared is happy to fill in for him, even if he insists that he’s not a cheap date and makes Jensen buy him a large tub of popcorn with extra butter, and two packages of gummy bears.

Jensen grabs himself a bottle of water and decides to steal at least half of Jared’s popcorn, instead of buying his own. Jared holds it as far away from Jensen as he can while they walk into the theatre to find their seats and he laughs and holds it up above his head when Jensen tries to grab some.

“That’s just cheating, dude,” Jensen says, when the tub is so high he can’t possibly reach it without actually tackling Jared to the ground. Which would probably only result in popcorn all over the floor, not in his mouth, so. Bad idea. “Totally uncool.”

Jensen takes a chance and digs his fingers into Jared’s side, wriggles them around and laughs in triumph when Jared cries out, curls in on himself to protect against his vulnerabilities.

“Ticklish,” Jensen says, shaking his head as he snatches the popcorn from Jared’s hand. “I knew it.”

He’s not watching where he’s going, too busy watching Jared to make sure he doesn’t fall, or take someone out with a flailing limb, so when he walks head-on into another movie-goer he pulls up and immediately starts to apologise.

And this his mouth snaps shut.

It’s Misha.

“Wow,” he says, like a moron. “Uh, sorry. I wasn’t….”

“You never watch where you’re going,” Misha smiles. “One of these days, you’re going to step on the wrong person.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, because he can’t really say anything else to that. Misha looks really fucking good and Jensen sort of just wants to stare at him for a while. His hands twitch and flex around the popcorn bucket with the urge to reach out and touch. Then he gets it together and does his best to smile. “I’m graceful. You know I am.”

Misha breathes out deeply then, the line of his shoulders gets a little lower and he steps a little closer when he says, “of that I have no doubt.”

He can feel himself leaning in, feel the pull, his body giving into the natural state of together. It’s Misha. Misha is his centre of gravity, always will be and it’s nearly impossible not to step forward and wrap his arms around Misha, pull him close. It’s something that’s so ingrained, so instinctual and he wants it so bad he might actually do it. He feels silly, young and idiotic and idealistic and he loves it.

He feels a hand at his shoulder then, looks around quickly to see that Jared’s stepped up beside him and when Misha notices too, he takes a step back again. He wants to say no, tell Misha it’s not what it looks like, but he doesn’t know how to say it without making things awkward. He’s mulling the words over, just getting their order down pat when someone comes up behind Misha and slings his arm around Misha’s shoulders.

“Darling, there you are,” the guy says, in some douchey accent. His hair is artfully mussed and the deep V cut of his t-shirt is showing off way too much skin and Jensen hates him on sight. His mouth turns up in a crooked smile as his fingers dance over Misha’s chest. His arm pulls Misha closer and Jensen grinds his teeth. “They didn’t have any pretzels, but I got you something called cool ranch.”

Misha doesn’t answer right away, Jensen doesn’t say anything either and then this joker finally looks up, feigns surprise that there are actually two other people standing right in front of them.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he says, to Jensen and Jared. Then he turns to Misha. “I didn’t realise you’d run into some friends.”

And that’s just about enough. Whoever the fuck this guy is, it’s about time he found out who Jensen is. Jensen narrows his eyes at the guy and takes a deep breath, ready to launch into some long-winded threat masquerading as explanation, some cheap, caveman move so this guy knows to back the fuck off.

Misha shuts him up with only a look.

“Jensen,” Misha says. “This is Sebastian.” Sebastian. Okay. Sebastian the jackass who thinks he can call Misha ‘darling’ and act like Jensen isn’t the boyfriend, here. Fine. Jensen nods at Sebastian and Sebastian grins back and Jensen thinks he might ask them to sit with him and Jared. Maybe wrangle them so he’s sitting next to Misha and try out some of that fake yawn action.

But then Misha punches him right in the gut with his next words.

“He’s my date.”

Jensen has to fight for his next breath but he manages not to fall over. He licks his lips and leans a little closer to Jared, who helpfully props him up. Sebastian, the fucker, just smiles a little creepier and tugs Misha ever closer. Misha looks more than a little uncomfortable, which is so unlike him it’s disturbing. Misha’s usually comes across as never anything but completely at ease.

“Yeah, that’s…” Jensen says, floundering. “That’s great. Have fun, guys. I hear this movie is… Yeah. Good.”

He knows he looks miserable, knows by how Misha looks at him with pity in his eyes and Sebastian smirks ever so slightly as he angles Misha up the stairs and into the back row, perfect for making out. Knows by how Jared leans into him, hand squeezing at the base of his neck and mouth pressed against his ear to whisper, “You okay?”

“I didn’t even introduce you,” he says lamely, even though it has pretty much nothing to do with anything.

Jared just chuckles, pulls him in so they’re facing each other. It’s a show. An unnecessary show but Jensen goes along with it anyway, because Misha is on a date. Christ. He figured this was a possibility. Figured it was inevitable, really, because Misha is so unbelievably amazing that people were probably chasing after him since the second he became available, but it still hurts more than he’d thought it would.

“Misha knows who I am. And his boyfriend probably doesn’t care. Don’t worry about it, man.”

Jensen flinches at Jared’s casual use of the word ‘boyfriend’, because boyfriend is different than date. Very different. And Jensen’s not sure he’s ready for Misha to have a boyfriend. He probably won’t ever be.

“No,” Jensen says, shaking his head slightly to clear it and Jared’s eyes are way too soft. He’s too close. Way too close and Jensen takes a step back. “No it’s… I’m not worried.”

Jared’s smile changes then, less playful distraction and more concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You want to find a seat?” he asks, gesturing with the hand that’s holding the two packages of candy to a row off to their right.

“Yeah,” Jensen says absently, follows Jared to the middle of the row and he spends the entire movie trying not to look back to where he just knows that Sebastian, the fucker, is down on his knees sucking Misha’s cock.

***

Jensen’s problem, he figures, is that he’s been acting like an enormous pussy.

The way to get his boyfriend back is clearly not to sit back on his ass and wait for Misha to realise that Jensen’s the only one for him. The way to get him back is to go out and prove to Misha that he’s the only one. Prove that just because Jensen screwed up once, it was just once and he’s way better for Misha than anybody else out there could ever hope to be.

Prove that Sebastian can’t even compare.

He knows he needs to tread carefully, work slowly and not push too hard. Which is fine, because while Jensen has never in his life tried to woo someone and doesn’t really even know where to start, he is nothing if not patient.

He lasts approximately thirty-nine hours before he breaks and calls Misha.

He’s pretty much the exact opposite of suave and practiced, but that probably works to his advantage when he stumbles his way through asking Misha to meet him for lunch on Wednesday. Misha has always said that Jensen’s cute when he’s nervous.

They both sort of automatically gravitate to their usual table in the student centre and when they sit down to eat the gyros Jensen bought for them, he catches Jared’s eye. Jared’s working right now – at the deli next to the Greek place – and Jensen should have thought to check first. He probably could have scored some free food.

Jared smiles and gives him a goofy thumbs-up and Jensen snickers before he can help himself. Misha, of course, turns to see what’s so funny and when he looks back at Jensen it’s with a resigned, tilted, grin.

“How have you been, Jensen?” Misha asks, licking at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue before taking a drink of his coke. Fuck, that tongue. Jensen’s pants get a little tight remembering what it can do. He doesn’t let it get to him though. He’s got more important things to concentrate on.

He wants Misha for a lot of reasons, probably the least of which is his tongue. And considering Misha can give head like a porn star, that’s saying something about Jensen’s deep and profound love.

“How do you think I’ve been?” he answers, scowling. He then immediately curses under his breath and forces himself to relax. You catch more flies with honey, and all that, right? It’s not Misha’s fault he’s been miserable. Besides, Misha looks pretty damn relaxed. Or he would to someone who didn’t know him so well. As it is, Jensen can see the tight line of his shoulders, the strain across his forehead, the way his fingers grip his napkin a little too tight and he knows this is just as hard on Misha as it is on him.

It’s like Christmas, but worse. Because now Jensen knows that Misha is dating some loser called Sebastian and Misha probably thinks Jensen is dating Jared and Misha’s probably gone from ‘I don’t know’ to ‘It’s been nice knowing you’.

Fuck.

“Sorry. I didn’t… I don’t want to take this out on you. But I’ve been shitty, Misha. Thanks for asking.”

He smiles a crooked smile, forced as it is and Misha bursts out laughing.

“Glad I could amuse,” Jensen mumbles and Misha reaches across the table to place a hand over Jensen’s forearm. And then it’s okay. It’s fine that Misha’s laughing at his pain because Misha is touching him and Jensen pretty much never wants to get up from this table again.

Misha must see his face light up, must feel the tension flow out of him because his smile turns genuine and he gives Jensen’s arm a squeeze, before he pulls back.

“Things not going well with Jared, then?” Misha asks, after a few more bites of his sandwich. He’s going for cool, aloof and if he was sitting across from anyone but Jensen he’d be doing a damn good job of it. He’s antsy, Jensen can tell. He wants to know but he doesn’t want to ask. He wants to hear that Jensen hasn’t moved on.

It’s a huge fucking relief and Jensen doesn’t even bother trying to drag it out or play it cool. He’d be torturing himself more than Misha, anyway.

“Jared’s just a friend,” he says. “I’m not interested in anyone but you. I can’t believe you’d think otherwise.”

Misha ducks his head briefly but then looks back at Jensen and says, “the two of you certainly looked cozy at the movie the other day.”

“No,” Jensen says. “I mean, I literally can’t believe it. You’re fishing, Mish. Admit it.”

Misha chuckles then and takes another sip of his drink.

“Guilty,” he says. “But, you were out with him on Saturday night. It’s okay if you’re dating him, Jensen. It’s okay to experience things, people. That’s the whole point of…”

He trails off, looking down at the table, truly uncomfortable for the first time since they sat down. That’s okay. Jensen can finish the sentence for him.

“The whole point of you breaking up with me? So that we can date other people? Fuck other people? Fall in love with other people?” Fuck, just saying it makes Jensen’s mouth taste bad, makes his stomach queasy and his sandwich threaten to come back up.

Misha just shrugs, the Zen bastard. “Perhaps,” he says and Jensen wants to punch him in the face.

“And what about Sebastian?” Jensen snarls. God, he wishes he could just shut the hell up because he knows he’s not doing himself any favours here. Misha did not take it well the one and only time Jensen had gotten jealous in the past and he’s not likely to take it any better now, when Jensen has even less right to it. He can’t help it, though. Misha should be with him, not anyone else. “How’s that going?”

“Well,” Misha answers with a stilted nod. “Thanks for asking.”

Jensen blinks and he squeezes his cup so hard the plastic lid pops off. It’s going well with Sebastian. Fuck.

“Are you and him…” Jensen starts to ask, and he’s not sure how he wants to finish. Together? Fucking? Making plans for that European asshat to move all his stuff into Jensen’s drawers?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask any of those things though, because Misha stands up, collects his garbage in one hand and his book bag in the other.

“I have to get to class,” Misha says. “It was… nice to see you, Jensen.”

Jensen just stares after and thinks that no, for the first time ever, it really wasn’t.

***

Jensen might be down, but he’s not out.

Not even close.

In fact, no. He’s not even down.

He and Misha have history, they have destiny, they have true and unending love and by the time Jensen’s finished with him, Misha’s going to be asking “Sebastian who?”

When they first went out back in high school, Misha wore a girl’s cheerleading uniform for over a week, until Jensen finally agreed to a date. Jensen was broke and nervous and awkward and he ended up taking Misha to an arcade and then snuck him into a chick flick.

Misha still has that uniform (he wore it most recently six months ago while they fucked on the couch, Misha straddling Jensen’s lap with the short, pleated skirt fanned out around his thighs and his hard cock lifting up the front) so Jensen waits until he knows Misha isn’t home and then he lets himself in and digs it out of the closet.

It’s more than a little snug on Misha and it looks absolutely ridiculous on Jensen, but that’s okay. That’s actually the point.

He’s not going to school dressed up like this. He’s a semi-professional and he’s got students he needs to look appropriate for and a boss he doesn’t want to freak out too badly, but his move needs to be public. Misha’s was.

When he knows that Misha is on his way home from the office (he calls and talks to Katie, who shares with Misha, and she tells him he just left for home) he stands out front of their building and waits.

It’s fucking freezing outside and when a chilly gust of wind blows up his skirt he swears and cups his hands around his prick, for fear it’s going to freeze right off. Shit, maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea. When Misha pulled this stunt, it was barely fall.

He gets mistaken for a prostitute twice (they don’t live in the best neighbourhood) and the second time he nearly punches the guy in the mouth, but it pays off when he hears Misha’s car pull into the lot and a minute later, Misha steps around the corner.

He stops moving the second he sees Jensen, his eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open.

“…Jensen?”

“Hey, Misha,” Jensen says, smiles and walks a little closer, exaggerating the swing of his hips. He knows he looks like a complete fool, but Misha’s starting to smile now too, and he really doesn’t care.

“Jensen, what are you doing?”

“I’m asking you out on a date,” Jensen explains, chances another step so that he’s close enough to Misha to touch him.

“Are you?” Misha asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not doing a very good job of that, so far.”

“Go out with me.”

“That wasn’t asking,” Misha points out, and Jensen’s smile grows wider. A playful Misha is a very, very good thing.

“Go out with me,” Jensen says again.

“You look ridiculous.”

“And I’ll keep on looking ridiculous until you agree to go out with me.”

“Jensen, be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious. I’m done with sitting around and waiting. I want you, I love you and I’m gonna win you back. You’ll come home to me standing outside your door dressed like a high school cheerleader every damn day until you agree to go out on a date with me. And I’ve got to warn you – in this outfit, I appear to be a serious catch.”

Misha lets out short bark of laughter but after a moment his smile dims.

“It’s not that easy, Jensen,” he says. “You can’t just show up here being your irresistibly adorable self and expect everything to be okay again.”

“I know that,” Jensen tells him. “Believe me, I know that. That’s why I’m just asking for one date. You and me, we’ll go somewhere nice. Ease into it and see if we want to think about going back. But you’ve got to agree to give me a real chance here, don’t shut me out. If you can’t do that, if you really can’t do that, then you gotta let me go, once and for all. Okay?”

Misha just looks at him. His head is cocked slightly and his eyes are narrowed and he just looks at him.

“Okay,” he finally says. “You can pick me up Friday at seven.”

Jensen heaves a huge sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he says. “Because I was totally bluffing with that ‘let me go’ crap. I was about thirty seconds away from weeping and begging, man.”

Misha chuckles and shakes his head as he opens the front door of the building.

“You better come inside and get changed,” he says, and Jensen follows him up to their apartment.

He changes back into his normal clothes and he lingers for a few seconds by the door while Misha fiddles around in the kitchen. He’s half hoping Misha will ask him to stay for a while, but he’s got a fucking date on Friday, so he’s not even all that disappointed when Misha doesn’t.

“You should probably get going,” Misha says. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

Jensen nods and slips back into his shoes. He’s halfway out the door when Misha speaks again and his words make Jensen smile all the way back to the dorm.

“And if you stretched out that sweater, you’re buying me a new one.”

***

Friday evening at seven o’clock exactly, Jensen knocks on Misha’s door. Their door. Whatever. He’s still got his keys, so he let himself into the building, but he waits patiently in the hallway outside the apartment for Misha to answer.

Misha looks good and Jensen tells him so, leans in to kiss his cheek and wishes he thought to bring a gift – flowers or some pot, or something. Misha likes presents. He also likes blow jobs, but Jensen doesn’t think one of those would go over so hot at the moment, so he sticks with the kiss.

Jensen really appreciates it when Misha does nothing but laugh out loud and go with it, when Jensen walks him down the stairs and straight to his own car.

It’s a piece of shit Pontiac that’s about a thousand years old and it’s the only car Jensen has ever sort of owned. Misha bought it when he first went off to university and Jensen just kind of adopted it when he followed. Jensen’s probably driven the thing more than Misha has anyway, so it’s familiar, comfortable almost, to watch Misha fiddle with the radio as Jensen drives.

“You said somewhere nice,” Misha says, when Jensen pulls up outside Mike’s building five minutes later. It’s a run down four story walk-up that’s in serious need of a coat of paint. And an exterminator. And a reinforced foundation. “This… is not nice.”

“There aren’t actually any arcades within fifty miles of here,” Jensen tells him. “Believe me, I looked.” He gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side.

“That doesn’t actually explain anything.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, taking Misha’s hand and helping him out of his seat, shutting the car door behind him. “It does.”

When Jensen opens Mike`s door and ushers Misha into the apartment, Misha pauses just inside the living room and he looks back at Jensen with the most adorable smile. It’s small, slight, but it’s lighting up his entire face and he looks like he wants to jump up and down.

“Never mind,” he says. “For right now, this is the nicest place in Columbus.”

It’s still pretty ghetto, Jensen has to admit, but he did his best.

The scuffed and stripped walls are covered in deep purple sheets, tacked up with push pins and hanging soft, like drapes. He put up twinkle lights, criss-crossing over the ceiling and there are no less than a dozen lava lamps going, casting the room in a warm, reddish glow.

But the best part is how he’s borrowed electronics from just about everyone he knows to create the closest approximation to an actual arcade that he could manage.

He’s got four televisions spread out on Mike’s coffee table. Two of them are black and white with about 12 inch screens, which he borrowed (along with the fifty inch flatscreen) from his office mates. He’s got them hooked up to Mike’s PS3, Jared’s original Playstation, one of those ‘twenty-five in one’ arcade classic console pieces of crap he picked up at a game shop, and a Sega Genesis he borrowed from Jeff Morgan, of all people.

There are two computers, Mike’s laptop and his own, set up on the kitchen table (which he’d moved into the living room) and there’s an original Nintendo emulator installed on one and an Atari emulator on the other.

Every screen is flashing at the game menu, asking the user to hit the start button.

It’s a big risk, setting this up. Misha isn’t really much of a video game guy, but he’s going for a whole thing here, with how they first got together, so he’s hoping Misha gets that. He’s also got some Christina Applegate movie lined up on Netflix for later. It’s probably not the one they watched on their first date, but Jensen can’t really be sure.

He wasn’t paying enough attention to the movie to remember what it was, eight years later.

“I uh,” Jensen says, gesturing at the kitchen and he ushers Misha toward the couch before he can look at the mess Jensen left. “I made falafel.” Because even though they ended up eating tacos that day, Jensen distinctly remembers Misha telling him that he liked falafel. He doesn’t know if Misha remembers, too. Probably doesn’t. It’s a silly, anally-retentive thing to remember.

Jensen only remembers because he’s been crazy about Misha since the day they met.

“You want to eat now, or play some Mike Tyson’s Punch Out first?”

For several long seconds Misha doesn’t answer and Jensen’s afraid he made a terrible mistake. Fuck, he was hoping this ‘nervous around Misha’ thing would be gone by now.

“I am so very much in love with you, Jensen,” Misha says, and Jensen blinks and sits down on the couch next to him. That’s something Jensen had pretty much been counting on, but the way Misha’s saying it doesn’t exactly sound like the start of happy reunion.

“But?” Jensen prompts, because it really sounds like there’s a but.

“But nothing,” Misha says, reaches over and takes Jensen’s hand. “I’m not promising that I can go back to what we were, but I can tell you truthfully and without a doubt that I’m head over heels in love with you. I can’t imagine ever not feeling that way.”

Jensen wonders what Misha’s new boyfriend would think of that, but he doesn’t bring it up. Things are going well. Better than well, and Jensen doesn’t want to rock the boat.

He kicks Misha’s ass at the video games, just like last time and when it hits ten o’clock and they’ve played every game at least five times, Jensen’s stomach starts to grumble. They eat the falafel, along with some hummus and a salad that Jensen made entirely from scratch, and after they get through what turns out to be Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead, Misha’s yawns have become so wide he can’t hide them anymore.

“I should take you home,” Jensen says, even though what he really wants is to go home with Misha and stay there. But they agreed to one date, to test the waters and Jensen is a man of his word. “You look beat.”

The drive back is quiet. The good kind of quiet, the kind of quiet that makes him feel like maybe it would be okay if he kissed Misha goodnight tonight, the kind that makes him want to hold Misha’s hand.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Misha tells him, when he walks Misha from the car to the front door of the building. “Thank you, Jensen.”

“Next week,” is Jensen’s response. Then, “I mean, me too. But… Next week. Go out with me again?”

It wouldn’t be ideal, this living on campus and occasionally dating Misha, but it’s better than no Misha at all, so Jensen’s sure as shit not going to complain. But then Misha smiles and he reaches his hands out to grab Jensen by the arms and he pulls him forward, flush against Misha’s body.

And then he kisses him. It’s not sloppy or dirty or desperate like Jensen misses about them sometimes. It’s clean and chaste and it makes Jensen’s fucking toes tingle, God. Jensen blindly attempts to follow when Misha breaks the kiss and pulls back and Misha laughs and gently puts a hand on Jensen’s chest, keeping him in place.

“Is that a yes?” Jensen asks, hands itching to grab Misha and hold him close. “God, please tell me that’s a yes.”

Misha laughs again and Jensen will never get tired of that sound.

“Yes,” he confirms. “It’s a yes.”

“I knew it,” Jensen says, affecting a cocky smirk and stepping a little closer. He didn’t know at all, to be honest, but that’s never stopped him from acting like he did.

“You think you’re cute,” Misha tells him, trying to sound stern. The way his eyes soften and the lines around his mouth smooth out though, they tell a different story. “But you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Jensen counters.

“Yes,” Misha concedes, leaning in and tilting his head slightly upward. His words are soft and moist against Jensen’s lips and it's like a direct line to his cock. “You are.”

“I’m gonna win you all over again,” Jensen says and he gives in and kisses Misha again, quick.

Misha smiles. “If I recall, I was the one who had to win you over the first time around.”

Jensen smiles back, lets his fingers trail slowly across Misha’s arm. “So, it’s my turn.”

***

Jensen can’t possibly beat that performance, but he doesn’t really have to.

He likes to tease Misha that he’s easy – mostly because he typically puts out for Jensen with very little encouragement – but the truth is, he’s not. He’s guarded, in a way that most people don’t understand because he’s so outwardly friendly. And he takes all of his relationships very seriously. His trust is a valuable thing and once that’s broken it takes more than a simple apology to gain it back.

It takes more than fancy dinners and fresh cut flowers and sentimental second first dates to gain it back.

So Jensen doesn’t have to break the bank on ridiculous presents or stay up all night writing cheesy love poetry. He doesn’t have to dress up like a girl ever again and he doesn’t have to stand outside Misha’s window reciting Shakespeare or singing old Journey songs.

He just has to be there.

Every day, he has to be there, so that Misha knows he’ll always be there, that he never wants to be anywhere else, not ever again.

So, he calls Misha, every day. Misha usually answers and when he doesn’t he usually calls Jensen back and they talk. Sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes half the night. Sometimes about what Misha’s cooking for supper or how Jensen’s laptop broke down again and sometimes they’ll play twenty questions or watch an old movie together over the phone, like they used to when they started dating nearly a decade ago.

They go out every weekend. Usually to see a movie or grab something to eat, but a couple of times Justin has a party and even though Justin’s parties aren’t Jensen’s favourite things ever, he doesn’t even think about saying no, when Misha asks him if he wants to go.

Misha always lets Jensen kiss him and Jensen always goes home alone and Misha always calls to say a short good night and Jensen always falls asleep smiling. Sure, Jensen’s working on a pretty mean case of blue balls, but it’s a small price to pay.

Things are good. Misha makes him smile all the time, makes him feel invincible, like it doesn’t really matter quite so much that he’s got a shitload of papers to grade or that he’s way behind on his reading for his thermal regulation class or that his mom is still trying to get him to ‘talk about it’ every time he calls her.

Misha makes Jensen’s stomach flutter and his chest tighten, like he’s nervous, excited and everything is just fucking perfect when he thinks about seeing him and he does the same for Misha. He knows this, because Misha told him once, two weeks ago at two in the morning, sitting in a coffee shop and high on donuts.

He’s falling in love all over again, even though he never fell out of it and it’s good.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to rush things. He doesn’t have to.

It’s on a Saturday evening, about two months into their courtship, when Jensen finally feels like he’s got Misha back. Really back, all the way. It’s after Jensen is propped up against a row of lockers, feet still stuck in a pair of roller skates and rubbing a hand over his freshly-bruised ass, that he feels like Misha’s ready. He’s already mentally unpacking his clothes back into his side of the closet because this is it. Misha trusts him again.

“Want me to kiss that better for you?” Jensen hears from somewhere behind him and he jerks and spins around so hard his feet start to slide out from underneath him and he nearly falls down again.

It’s Jared, of course.

“Hey,” he says, and normally he’d be smiling, but he’s kind of freaking out because he doesn’t want Misha to read in anything into this. He never would have before, but now Jensen’s not so sure.

“Saw you wipe out, man,” Jared grins, gesturing to the rink. “Real smooth.”

“I still maintain I was pushed,” Jensen says, blushing. He steps out of the way, so that he’s no longer blocking Jared’s view of Misha.

“Would I do something like that?” Misha asks, looking much too innocent to be believed. To be fair, Jensen’s not positive that Misha pushed him, but he’s pretty sure that somebody did.

“Oh,” Jared says smile fading slightly and turning a little less certain. “Hey, Misha. I didn’t…”

“Jared, hello,” Misha says, saving him some floundering. His smile is real, warm and he means it when he asks, “how are you?”

“Uh, good,” Jared answers, sparing a moment to shoot a confused look at Jensen. Which Jensen briefly shares. “I’m good. Can’t complain.” He sounds a lot more natural now, his voice is thick and rich and those damn dimples are back. It’s like a blueprint for making people like him, and the fucking kicker is, it’s not fake at all.

Nobody says anything else for a few awkward seconds and to save them any more discomfort (and to make sure Misha doesn’t get the wrong idea) he takes Misha’s hand and leans a little closer to him.

“We were just gonna go grab something to eat…” Jensen starts, subtly coaxing Misha in the direction of the snack bar.

“Would you like to join us, Jared?” Misha interrupts, still smiling. Fucker really isn’t trying to make this easy on Jensen, but whatever. Jensen can take it.

Jared opens his mouth and he looks at Jensen again, silently asking him what the hell he’s supposed to say to that. Jensen smiles a smile that’s more like a wince, which really doesn’t tell Jared much of anything, so he just shrugs his shoulders.

“Sure, yeah,” he answers. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Misha says, as they start to walk together, Jensen between them. “Thank Jensen. He’s buying.”

***

“That was extremely cool of you,” Jensen says, half an hour and twenty bucks later. Jared just took off to go find his friends, leaving Jensen and Misha to fight over the last of the onion rings. Jensen doesn’t fight very hard.

The conversation hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Jensen thought it would (turns out Jared and Misha actually get along pretty well, especially when they’re mostly making fun of Jensen), but Jensen’s still glad it’s over.

“Not really,” counters Misha. He considers the last onion ring in his hand – a good one; all thick and perfectly golden and crispy – and he uses his butter knife to cut it in half, before leaning across the table to pop one of the halves in Jensen’s mouth. “I don’t like him.”

“What? But…”

“Oh, it’s completely irrational,” Misha tells him, then eats his own half of the onion ring before licking his fingers clean. That’s… kind of distracting. Misha has nice fingers. And a nice tongue. And lips. And he can do all sorts of really nice things with those fingers, and tongue, and lips. And… it’s been way too long since Jensen last got laid.

“Huh?” Jensen asks, blinking and snapping his mouth shut when Misha clears his throat. “Sorry, what?”

Misha laughs at that and dries his fingers off on a napkin.

“I said it’s completely irrational. And I’m fairly certain it will go away, eventually. So in the mean time I can either do my best to get along with him, which shouldn’t be hard considering he seems like a genuinely great guy, or I could do something completely barbaric, like challenge him to a duel.”

Jensen snorts at that, shaking his head.

“Good choice.”

“Hm,” Misha agrees. “Especially since the prize is already mine.”

Jensen groans and rolls his eyes, but inwardly he’s pumping his fist in the air in victory because finally.

“Lame, dude,” Jensen says, even as he can feel his face tighten and stretch as he grins, so wide he knows he looks ridiculous.

Misha just leans closer, looks down at Jensen’s lips for a moment.

“They’ll be closing up here, soon,” Misha says. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers. The rink closes at midnight but Jensen’s not ready to call it a night, not yet. “Sure. Uh… We could still probably catch a late movie, if you want. Or half price day-olds at Coffee Time?”

“Actually, Jensen,” Misha says, and this time he’s so close that Jensen can practically feel the words vibrating against his lips. He shivers and a slight tickle creeps up the length of his spine. “It’s getting late. I was thinking it’s time we went home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says, a little disappointed but determined not to show it. “I guess I…” He blinks and sits up straighter, putting a little more space between them, because did Misha really just say what Jensen thinks he said? “Wait, what?”

Misha laughs full out at that and then reaches out to rest his fingers along the back of Jensen’s neck. He pulls him forward into a solid, grounding kiss.

“Let’s go home, Jensen,” he says. “You can stop by campus tomorrow and get your things. Okay?”

Okay? Okay? It’s so much more okay than just okay that Jensen doesn’t even know where to start. So he doesn’t. He just pulls Misha close and kisses him again, longer this time, slower when he slots his lips over Misha’s.

“Marry me?” Jensen asks when they finally break apart, breathless and tingling and a little bit stupid. He’s about ten percent joking, ninety percent completely serious. He’d marry Misha in a heartbeat – he’s been asking him to for about five years now – but for reasons beyond Jensen’s understanding, Misha never answers him.

Tonight is not the night he breaks that pattern.

“You’re already having sex tonight,” Misha says. “Don’t push your luck.”

“You know,” Jensen says, as they finish changing into their street shoes and head out the door. “One of these days I’m going to ask and you’re actually going to answer me. You’re gonna say yes, too.”

“One of these days,” Misha agrees, with an enigmatic grin as he slides into the passenger seat of their car.

Jensen smiles back and heads for home.

END