RockStarPeach

Title: Just Ask

Pairing: Jensen/Misha

Summary: Janitor!Jensen/Scientist!Misha. A random AU story where life throws the boys a not unexpected curve ball and they have to decide whether or not they want to stay together, and just what it’s worth to them. Plus, sex. Uh… angsty schmoop?

Rating: Adult

Word count: 3900

A/N: This was written for the absolutely darling uwalumni2, who agreed with me that we needed some feel good, pick-me-up porn after the heartbreaking suckfest last night. (No, overall I really did like the ep, but Cas! And Dean!!! Yeah, they need some fixing.) She asked for something specific, but I had to go AU because I can’t write RPS that isn’t. I hope it still hits the same feelings you were looking for, darling! Uh, even though the porn actually turned out sort of… not so feel good. It ends happy, which is what counts, right?


***

“So that’s it,” Jensen asked, watching Misha slowly swallow the last bite of his sandwich. Eggplant. Seriously. Like that was a valid meal choice. God he was gonna fucking miss that shit.

“I can make you another ham and Swiss, if you like,” Misha said, completely blasé and Jensen had to fight hard not to snap his arm out and punch his lover right in his stupid smug bastard mouth. “But you haven’t even touched the one in front of you.”

Jensen didn’t bother acknowledging the attempted deflection, just pushed his plate slightly forward so he could fold his arms on the table in front of him. He darted his eyes to the suitcase by the door, giving the item a pointed stare before he looked back at Misha.

“You’re leaving. Just like that.”

“Not,” Misha sighed, closed his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not ‘just like that’, Jensen. My contract is up. We both knew this was coming. I don’t have a choice. If I want to keep my job, I have to go.”

Misha had come to Chicago five years ago from Duluth. Slotted himself seamlessly into a team of top notch particle physicists at top notch research facility and even more seamlessly into Jensen’s life.

But the collider was being outdone, some fancy new one in France or Switzerland or what the fuck ever was apparently a shitload better and if Misha wanted to stay at the top of his field, he had to go where the action was. Jensen knew this, knew from that first conversation with Misha in an east side honky tonk all those years ago that Misha’s stay in the city was temporary.

They were both surprised it lasted as long as it did, but as the years passed, as Misha settled into his job and into Jensen’s bed, Jensen became complacent. He forgot. Or rather, he chose to forget. Put the certainty of Misha leaving to the back of his mind the very first time he brought the man home, the very first time they became lovers instead of Thursday night acquaintances.

“And what about me?” Jensen asked, gesturing wide with his arms around the house they’d come to share. There were traces of Misha everywhere, books on the shelves, movies stacked up next to the television. Food in the fridge and soap under the counter and Misha’s fucking croquet set in the backyard. All of it for Jensen to deal with after Misha walked out the door.

It was amazing how much of his life was wrapped up in Misha after only a few years. He hadn’t planned on it, but there it was. The love of his fucking life, and it had barely lasted into his thirties.

“What about you?” Misha countered, eyes turned down at the corners and voice carefully, subtly pleading with Jensen for… for something, he didn’t even fucking know. Damn Misha was hard to read.

“You’re leaving me here,” Jensen snapped, the words coming out a harsh growl. It was about the tenth time he’d said them that day, or at least some variant of them. He was sick and fucking tired of saying them, of opening himself up, of being vulnerable, weak. Of repeating over and over that Misha was done with him.

“You could come with me.” It was soft, insistent but almost timid. Again, not the first time those words had been said today. They’d been said a lot this past month. And always met with the same reply.

“And leave my family, my friends, my job.”

Misha snorted slightly, shook his head and pushed his chair back from the table. The modest six seater they’d picked out together from an Amish market after Misha had complained for the fifteenth time about Jensen’s ‘eat over the sink’ philosophy. Misha had moved in a month later and they’d fucked over that table every night for a week to celebrate.

“Jensen, you’re a janitor,” he said, turning his nose up at the profession for the very fist time. It hurt, Jensen wasn’t gonna lie. Yeah, he was no fucking rocket scientist but he worked hard and honest and Misha had always respected that. Jensen had been mopping floors and emptying the garbage in Misha’s office since before they’d even officially met, but he’d never felt inferior around Misha, not once in their entire relationship. Until now. “It’s not like you can’t do that anywhere. My job on the other hand… It’s important where I am.”

“So, what?” Jensen asked, snarling in a concerted mockery of a smile. “I’m not good enough for you and that’s it? We’re done?”

“Stop it,” Misha ordered, looking at Jensen with hard eyes, and he very clearly did not apologise. Jensen hated himself for it, but he snapped his lips shut tight, bit them from the inside until they turned purple and puffed up. “You know that’s not true. You know…”

And Jensen did know. Fucking… fucking Misha and his stupid soft voice and those damn fucking eyes of his… Yeah, Jensen knew. No matter how many times Misha didn’t say it, Jensen knew.

“What do I know, Misha?” Jensen asked anyway, his voice tight and accusatory. “That you come home and fuck me every night and drink beer with me on Saturday afternoons and cook French toast on Sunday mornings and that you never promised me anything? Yeah, I know. This was always short term for you.”

“Five years,” Misha mused, voice curling around Jensen’s ears and sliding softly down his spine. “Not exactly short.”

“Maybe that’s even worse,” Jensen mumbled, standing up suddenly and slapping his hands down on the wooden surface in front of him. His plate rattled, vibrations jolting through it so it spun slightly and wobbled, the sound of porcelain on the hard surface causing Misha to flinch back and stand as well. “You never should have…”

“Never should have what?” Misha asked after several seconds, after he’d moved to stand next to Jensen so the words were spoken directly into his ear.

Jensen grit his teeth and ticked his head to the side, away from Misha. Damn that voice of his, those fingers on his arm and his warmth pressed up against Jensen’s side, so perfect and amazing and sucking Jensen in every single fucking time.

“You should never have let me fall in love with you,” Jensen hissed, turning them around and slamming Misha into the wall, forearm across Misha’s chest as he leaned in and kissed him, a clatter of teeth against teeth and mashed up lips.

And he did fall in love. Over and over again, he fell in love with Misha, something new or old, a comment or an expression or an action from Misha and Jensen was tumbling again, head over heels down an impossibly steep incline.

He’d never once been able to claw his way out and he never would be. He’d tried once or twice, at first, but it was hopeless. He was okay with that now though, resigned to Misha holding his heart in his hand, because he’d always been gentle with it. Up until now.

“Jensen,” Misha breathed out when Jensen pulled back just enough to allow them air. “Jensen, please.”

His arms were around Jensen then, fingers warm and solid over his shoulders, then down his back. Over and around his hips and up under his shirt to slide over his stomach, muscles quivering and tightening in the wake of the delicate touch.

“Please,” Misha said once more, directly into Jensen’s mouth and Jensen growled in response, slid his hands down Misha’s sides and grabbed hold of his thighs, hiked them up around his hips.

Misha’s legs went willingly, wrapped themselves around Jensen’s waist as his mouth latched onto Jensen’s neck, sucking a deep bruise into the flesh as Jensen walked them down the hall and into the bedroom. By the time they got there Misha had fingertip bruises in the soft flesh of his ass and Jensen’s neck was tender from a series of bites and sucking kisses.

He fell down on the bed, lowering Misha first, carefully and slowly and working Misha’s shirt up his chest and over his head, following the bared expanse of skin with his tongue as he slotted himself between Misha’s legs.

Misha was leaving him. In just a matter of hours, Misha was leaving him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have this one last time. One last perfect time, if Jensen had anything to say about it.

“Pants,” Jensen gasped, sliding his tongue across Misha’s teeth and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. “Off.”

Misha groaned in agreement, slid his jeans open and down as Jensen sat up enough to quickly shed himself of his clothing, both of them frantically kicking their Levis down over their ankles as they came back together, bodies mashing against each others from knee to shoulder.

They hadn’t used condoms in years. Jensen liked them, even in a committed relationship, Jensen liked them. Liked how clean they kept everything, mess of orgasm wrapped up neat and tidy in small pocket of latex, easy to discard, no fuss no muss. Liked them especially when it was his ass getting messy (because that shit could be a bitch to clean up entirely) but liked them too when he was doing the messing.

Misha, on the other hand, loved the mess. Loved to play in it, smear it over their bodies, taste it and feel it. Loved that it connected them, left no room for shame and most of all loved the blush it brought out in Jensen’s cheeks when it leaked out of him.

And Jensen loved Misha, Jensen made a lot of concessions for Misha, so… no condoms. He figured it evened out though, since Misha went halfsies with Jensen on a cable package that he refused to watch. That would change though, Jensen supposed, after Misha left. He’d go back to basic cable and never again fuck a guy without protection. And he’d probably be doing a lot of fucking, since he’d be without Animal Planet.

He wasn’t going to think about that now though, not with Misha naked and willing underneath him, spread out with his hands behind his knees, pulling his thighs apart as he encouraged Jensen to angle his hips lower.

“Lube?” Jensen asked into Misha’s neck. He couldn’t remember where they left it, or if they even had any left. It had been over a week since they’d had sex and Jensen hadn’t planned on having any tonight.

“Don’t need it,” Misha said, shaking his head. “If this is all I’m getting, I want to feel it. Want to feel it when I sit down on the plane later, when I fall asleep in my new apartment tomorrow night. Want to feel you, every single day.”

“Damn it!” Jensen cursed, grabbed Misha’s wrists and dug his nails in, hard enough to make Misha wince. He didn’t apologise, didn’t want to think about Misha’s life without him, just held him harder, tighter and pressed his hands into the mattress by his head. He rocked his hips back, slid his erection down Misha’s and over his balls, back toward his hole.

It took a few tries. Misha was tight and they were doing it dry so their bodies natural reactions were to deny Jensen access. Fourth time was the charm though, and when the head of Jensen’s dick finally caught on the ring of muscle, he pushed forward with merciless speed and force.

Misha cried out underneath him and Jensen quieted him with a biting kiss.

“Shut up,” he mumbled around a mouthful of lips and tongue. “Just… shut up.”

“Harder,” Misha said, ignoring him completely and Jensen complied. He fucked him harder. Clenched his hands down around Misha’s wrists so hard he heard the bones rub together and thrust into him with enough force that he knew Misha would feel it for days, just like he said he wanted.

After only a few strokes the way was slicked, a combination of Jensen’s pre-come and blood, no doubt, from Misha’s torn skin. Jensen closed his eyes and bit his lip, slid in again and again and tried not to be so disgusted with himself that he lost his erection. That was all he fucking needed right now.

“Harder,” Misha said again, his voice barely more than breath and he moaned in pained ecstasy when Jensen sped up again, pushed in as hard as he could and angled himself to brush up against Misha’s prostate.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done it a little rough and Jensen knew how Misha liked it.

Jensen kept his eyes closed. Thrust in again and again, lost himself in the feeling of Misha, of being inside him, all around him, tried to drive the memories home so that he’d have something to cling to when this was all over.

“Misha, damnit,” he sighed, let go of one wrist and slid his hand down, wrapped it around Misha’s dick and he sucked in a sharp breath, bucked and clenched his jaw hard at the touch.

“Please, Jensen,” Misha begged him yet again and Jensen was usually a very big fan of Misha’s begging. Tonight though, it just wasn’t having the effect it normally did.

“Shut up,” Jensen said again, bit Misha’s tongue sharply and then drew it into his mouth, soothed the swell of flesh with soft licks and kisses. “I need to… I just need for you not to talk right now, okay?” Because if Misha talked, he’d probably find some way to remind Jensen that he was on his way out the door and Jensen just couldn’t handle that right now.

“Anything,” Misha said, his eyes locking on Jensen’s, and for a split second, Jensen believed him.

“Son of a…” Jensen cursed under his breath, shoved his hips forward hard and quick, worked his hand over Misha’s dick so fast he feared the skin would rub off. “Come. Jesus, Misha. Come.”

It was a sudden request, neither of them exactly close, but Jensen suddenly needed for this be over. Done and done, filed away with his memories. It wasn’t his present anymore, he couldn’t afford to pretend.

“Yes,” Misha agreed, a short nod of his head and he bit his lower lip as he spilled over Jensen’s hand without any further provocation. Jensen followed a half second later, one, two more thrusts and he was filling Misha up, come sliding free as he pulled out, come sticking their bellies together, slicking up Misha’s ribs as Jensen slid his palm over them reverently.

“I fucking hate your job,” Jensen said, kicking Misha’s legs around so that he could settle next to him, pulling Misha into his chest.

“I do too, sometimes,” Misha admitted. “Though it brought me to you, so I can’t hate it all that much.”

“Sap,” Jensen said, rubbing his hand up and down over Misha’s bicep.

They were quiet for several long minutes before Misha shifted, placed his palm over Jensen’s hipbone.

“I promise you,” he said quietly.

“Huh?”

“I promise you, Jensen,” he said again, “every day. With every touch and look and breath, I promise you. And if you’re too stupid to see that, then…”

“You’re still leaving.” Also, words would have been nice, but Misha was never really much for saying flat out what was going on inside.

“I’m leaving Chicago, Jensen. Not you. I have to be in France for a while.” France. Okay, good to narrow it down some, geographically. “But that doesn’t mean we end. Please don’t end us over geography.”

“It’s not…” It wasn’t geography. It was everything. It was Misha moving on and up and leaving Jensen behind because he was destined for amazing and wonderful things and Jensen was his small town once-upon-a-time boyfriend who mopped up piss for a living. It wouldn’t take him long to move on, once Jensen wasn’t there every day to hold him back.

Jensen couldn’t really compare to all the genius friends Misha had, or was bound to meet. He should count himself lucky to have gotten him for this long.

“I don’t really do long distance,” he said, kissing the top of Misha’s head and clenching his fists tight to try to stop from squeezing Misha so hard he couldn’t breathe. “You know that.” He’d tried it once and it crashed and burned in under a month, left him heartbroken. After that, he vowed no more.

“Then come with me,” Misha pleaded, sucking in a watery breath as Jensen watched his eyes shut tight. “How many times do I have to ask before you believe that I honestly want you to? Please, Jensen. If I was the type to profess love…”

“Don’t,” Jensen cut him off sharply. “Just… don’t. I can’t hear that. Not unless you mean it.”

Only he did mean it. He’d meant it since the first morning they woke up together, tangled up in Jensen’s cheap cotton sheets and he’d meant it more and more with every day that had passed since. He’d never said it, not once, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Jensen was okay with that, really he was. He didn’t need the words he pretended to need, he just needed Misha to show him. One more time, for Misha to show him.

“My plane leaves in three hours,” Misha told him instead and Jensen barked out a sharp laugh.

“I love you,” Jensen whispered, squeezing his eyes shut on an unwanted wave of tears and pressing his pursed lips to Misha’s forehead. “Please don’t forget me.”

“I won’t ever have to, Jensen if you’d get over your inflated ego enough to come with me.”

“Because I’m just a janitor,” Jensen snorted. “Because my menial job can be done anywhere and I should follow your precious self all over the world for the privilege of sticking my dick in your ass.”

Misha shook his head once, hair of his bangs tickling against Jensen’s chest.

“You know that’s bullshit. You’re not any less for what you do. Nor am I more. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jensen Ackles, and I will shrivel up and die a sad, lonely death without you. Melodramatic perhaps, but without a doubt the truth.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jensen smiled, sucking in a deep lungful of air when Misha’s fingernails scraped over his right nipple.

“I don’t expect anything of you. I’m asking you to come with me. Because we’re in love,” he said, which was the closest Misha has ever come to saying ‘I love you’. “Because what we have will last forever if we don’t run from it.” He paused then and looked up at Jensen with a smirk. “And because you know damn well my ass is worth going a whole lot further for than France.”

Jensen couldn’t hide his answering smile, but it was sad, his eyes drooping and his chest heavy.

“Give me a reason, man,” he said, choking on the words, wishing he didn’t have to say them, didn’t want so very much to hear that reason. “Give me a reason to give up my entire fucking life for you.”

Misha didn’t say anything, didn’t move didn’t flinch didn’t breathe for so long that Jensen thought he’d fallen asleep. Then, suddenly and quietly, two words sounded out across Jensen’s ribs and Misha looked up, held his eyes bravely.

“I’ll stay.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll stay,” Misha said again. “For you. I’ll stay in Chicago. Get a job at the library or the museum or the damn public transit. I’d always planned on it, hoped, put off moving for so long just in case, but…”

“But what?” Jensen asked, afraid to raise his voice above a whisper.

“But you never asked.”

“You’re… you’re kidding, right? You’re leaving because I never asked you to stay?”

“You’re not the only one who needs affirmation,” Misha admitted with a shy smile.

“Don’t…” Jensen managed, coughed to clear his throat and dug his fingers tighter into Misha’s arms. “Don’t fuck with me, Misha. Not now, not about this.” He wasn’t, Jensen knew that, but Jesus Misha was hard to read sometimes. All the time. And he didn’t want to run the risk that he was misreading this situation. It would kill him, if he was wrong.

“’M not. I’ll stay, Jensen. I swear to you. Just ask me. Please.”

Jensen opened his mouth, the word ‘stay’ on his tongue just itching to get out. But when he let out his breath and turned it into voice, what came out was “go.”

“I… what?”

“Go to France,” Jensen said, finally letting a single tear fall. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Jensen. I don’t want…”

“We’re not breaking up. Okay? We’re not. I just… I’m a selfish son of a bitch. I know I am. And I want you all to myself. But I also want you to go be a smarty pants, make me proud. My boyfriend’s a genius,” he teased, tugging at Misha’s shoulders so he fell on top of Jensen.

“And my boyfriend is kind and funny and sweet and brilliant and the single most perfect example of the male form that has ever been witnessed. Not that I’m biased.”

Jensen laughed out loud, pulled Misha up to kiss him soundly. “No, of course not. So… You’ll go?”

“We’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be okay.”

***

And they were okay. For two weeks, they were okay. Good, even.

Until Jensen quit his job, sold his house, got on a plane and showed up at Misha’s door with a shy smile and a carry-on.

“Jensen…” Misha said, mouth opening and closing as he blinked, trying to figure out if Jensen was actually there, or if it was just an extremely vivid dream.

“Yeah baby,” Jensen said, leaning in to give Misha a chaste kiss while he backed up enough to allow Jensen into the second floor apartment. “I’m here.”

“But… what…”

“So eloquent when you’re sleepy,” Jensen teased. “So, I figured,” he went on, leaving his bag in the hallway and nosing into the fridge, coming out with two beers. He twisted the caps off them both and handed one to Misha. “I can mop floors pretty much anywhere. But I can only be with you in one place.”

“Jensen. I didn’t… what about your family? Your friends?”

Jensen shrugged and tried to settle next to Misha on the couch. It was hard and lumpy and generally sucked. They’d need to go shopping for a new one tomorrow.

“They’ll be there when we get back.”

“You’re staying?”

“I’m staying.”

And then things were good for a whole lot longer than just two weeks.

END