Stopping for hitchhikers was a bad idea. Misha knew that, and yet....
The guy was walking down the side of the road in the pouring rain, shoulders hunched against the cold. All Misha could see of his face was a flash of pale skin against the dark fabric of his soaked-through sweatshirt, but he could tell the poor guy was miserable.
He told himself that was why he stopped, but it wasn't the whole truth. He was good at lying to himself, though, so he pulled over and waited, and he resolutely didn't think about how he was so lonely he was willing to pick up a stranger off the side of the road. He put down the window when the guy got close enough, so he could offer him a ride to wherever it is he was going, but when he leaned in, Misha's throat closed up.
The guy was gorgeous, exactly Misha's type, all pale skin and dark gold hair and luminous green eyes, and it took Misha a moment to remember he was going to offer the poor guy a ride.
"Where you headed?"
"Just to the next town. My truck broke down a ways back, and I'm hoping I can get a tow."
"Come on, get in." Misha clicked the lock and leaned over to open the door.
Misha watched the guy fold himself into the passenger seat; he'd never thought about how uncomfortable his car might be for someone else. When he bought it, he'd thought the car was bigger than he needed, but he could see that for anyone taller than average, a compact car would be torture. And this guy was definitely taller than average.
Misha realized he was staring, but he couldn't help it: up close he could see a faint smattering of freckles framing those amazing green eyes and he wanted to trace the paths between them. He'd raised his hand to do just that when the other man spoke.
"Thanks, man. I feel like I've been walking for hours."
Misha shook himself and reached over to turn up the heat instead. "No problem. I couldn't just leave you out there in the rain." He put the car in drive and eased back onto the road before he let himself glance over again.
"It'll be another twenty minutes or so before we get to Dorris, and I can't guarantee anything will be open this late, but at least you're out the weather."
"Yeah, who knew that it rained this much in California?"
"It has been more wet than usual this year. And it is December."
Misha was surprised to hear a chuckle from the passenger seat. He looked over to see Jensen smiling at him. "Yeah, I suppose it is. I'm Jensen, by the way. Jensen Ackles."
"Misha Collins. I'd offer to shake, but..." He tipped his head at the road ahead, trusting Jensen would understand.
"Pleased to meet you, Misha. Thanks again for the ride."
Misha nodded and focused on the road, sure that if he looked over at Jensen again, he'd crash the car when he couldn't stop staring.
"Where are you headed to, Jensen?"
Jensen sighed. "Back down to L.A. The show I was working on in Vancouver was canceled by the network, so I'm out of a job."
"Oh? What kind of show?" Not that Misha would know it, because he didn't own a TV, but he felt it was only polite to ask.
"It was a genre show – sci-fi. I do stunts, fights, car crashes, that kind of thing."
Misha chanced a look over at Jensen. He could see it – Jensen was a big guy, broad shoulders, big hands. He probably looked just as good all hot and sweaty from work as he did wet and huddled into Misha's passenger seat.
"What about you? You traveling too?"
"Oh, no, I live Mount Hebron. I'm an artist."
"Yeah? What kind of art?"
Misha felt himself flush. He never talked about this with people, and he had no idea why he'd told Jensen. "I'm a sculptor."
"Like with stone? You do figure work?" Jensen's hands traced a curvy shape into the air between them, and when Misha glanced over, he saw what could only be called a sly smile on Jensen's lips.
"No, nothing like that. I do what I like to call industrial reclaiming." He thought about how to explain what he did more clearly, then said, "I take scrap and turn it into large scale art."
"That's cool. Kind of like recycling without all of the garbage trucks."
Misha nodded and shrugged; Jensen had pegged his art pretty well, without even seeing it. There didn't seem to be anything else to say at that point, so Misha turned his attention back to the road.
When they got to Dorris, the only thing open was the Stop and Go. Technically, the motel was open as well, but the no vacancy sign was lit. Jensen looked unhappy but resigned when he asked Misha to let him out at the Stop and Go.
"Thanks, man. I'll just hang out here until something opens up in the morning."
Misha hesitated; it was still pouring rain, and Jensen wasn't much drier than he was when he'd gotten into the car. He didn't feel right just leaving him there.
"What do you mean 'no'?" Jensen looked more than a little freaked out, and Misha hurried to explain.
"I mean, come home with me." He realized how that sounded when the look on Jensen's face shifted.
"Oh no – not like that. I mean." Misha stopped and took a deep breath. "I have a guest room, I just meant you can stay tonight and I'll give you a ride back in the morning."
Jensen didn't say anything to that. Instead he just stared out at the flickering light over the door of the Stop and Go.
"Jensen?" Misha's attention was caught by the way Jensen was tracing his fingers over a hole in the knee of his jeans.
"What if I want it to be like that?" Jensen glanced over at Misha, who was staring in open-mouthed shock.
Jensen laughed. "Yeah. Me. You. But that's only gonna happen if you take us to your house."
They were barely in the door when Jensen stepped in close and pressed his mouth to Misha's, open and hot, tongue slick along the rough skin of Misha's lower lip. Misha moaned and tipped his head, wrapping his hands in the loose fabric of Jensen's jacket to pull his body flush with Misha's.
Misha walked backwards, dragging Jensen along behind him. When they bumped against the doorframe leading into the kitchen, Jensen pinned Misha against it, rolling his hips against Misha's in a dirty grind that left Misha breathless. They stayed there, rutting against each other until the damp from Jensen's clothing started to seep into Misha's.
Misha pushed Jensen away – just far enough that he could grab his hand and pull him along the short hall leading to the bedrooms. He bypassed the guest room and entered his own room instead, where the bed was bigger. He pushed the door shut and dropped Jensen's hand, then reached out to unzip his sweatshirt. It took Jensen a few seconds to figure it out, but as soon as he did, he started to unbutton Misha's shirt.
They fumbled together, pulling and tugging at the damp layers separating them as they kissed and touched, until finally they were standing naked in the middle of the room. Misha stepped back toward the bed, watching as Jensen followed. He swallowed hard when Jensen kept walking, backing him against the bed and pushing him to sit.
When he tipped his head back to look up at Jensen, he was struck again by how bright his eyes were – they really were an amazing shade of green, and they were getting closer as Jensen leaned in and cupped his hands around Misha's face. He was so gorgeous Misha was having a hard time believing this was real. Guys like this just didn't come onto him.
Misha surged up, wrapping his hands around Jensen's biceps and meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss. He half-crouched, half-sat for a few moments, then he sat back and used his weight to pull Jensen back onto the bed. Their teeth clacked together and they pulled apart, laughing, as Misha wiggled up the bed. When Misha was settled against the pillows, Jensen crawled over him, looking for all the world like a hungry cat, and suddenly, the laughter died in Misha's throat.
He wanted everything, now. He raised his head and kissed Jensen, wanting to be closer, wanting to touch and be touched. He rolled Jensen onto his back and leaned over him, deepening the kiss as he threaded his fingers into his hair. Jensen wrapped his arms around Misha's back, pulling him closer, molding them together as they kissed and rutted against each other.
Everything after that was a blur of sensation: the feel of Jensen grabbing his ass and pulling, using it as leverage to get closer; the texture of Jensen's hair between his fingers; the tiny incoherent noises Jensen made every time closed his teeth on whatever skin was under his mouth; Jensen rolling Misha over onto his back and stroking his hand over their cocks with the perfect amount of pressure; coming almost at the same time and shivering together through the aftermath.
When he could once again think, Misha realized he was having some difficulty breathing. He shifted uncomfortably under Jensen's weight until Jensen shifted to the side. They lay together for a few moments before Misha got out of bed to find something to clean up with. He wiped off with a t-shirt, then swiped it over Jensen's stomach as well.
Jensen grumbled a bit when Misha pulled back the covers, but he rolled over and pulled up the blankets once Misha settled against his chest. Less than a minute later, they were both asleep.
When Misha woke up the next morning, he was warmer than he had been in a long time. Strong arms were wrapped around his chest, and he could feel soft breath against the back of his neck. He stayed as still as possible, not wanting the feeling to end.
He could get used to this, but he didn't think the odds were in his favor. This was a happy accident, and yes, he could admit he'd needed this, that he needed more, but he was pragmatic enough to know he should just enjoy it while he had it. So he let himself do just that, and sometime while he was being still he fell asleep again, lulled by the feel of Jensen's chest rising and falling against his back.
Coffee. He could smell coffee. This time he was alone in bed, but he could smell coffee, so he had a pretty good idea of where Jensen had gotten off to. He rolled out of bed and dragged on last night's jeans before he shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Jensen.
He was standing at the window, looking out over the back yard. The sun was shining through the glass, and it looked like Jensen's entire body was surrounded in gold, and Misha was sure he'd never seen anything so beautiful.
"Hey! You're up." Jensen crossed to the coffee pot, where he poured a cup for Misha, and another for himself. He turned and offered the cup to Misha, who reached out for the cup and wound up tracing his fingers over Jensen's mouth instead.
Jensen set the cup on the counter, and grasped Misha's hand before he leaned in to kiss him good morning. When he ended the kiss, he picked up the cup of coffee he'd offered to Misha, and this time, Misha accepted it.
Jensen took a drink of his own coffee before he spoke again. "Good morning."
"Morning." Misha had been hoping to hold onto more of the happy feeling from before, and when Jensen had kissed him, he thought maybe.... Well, whatever he'd thought, it was gone. All he was feeling now was awkward, which wasn't any different than he'd felt after any other one night stand.
Misha stepped back, trying to put some space between himself and Jensen. "I guess we should get you back to Dorris, so you can get that tow."
"You trying to get rid of me?" Jensen rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, and for some reason, Misha found the gesture endearing.
Misha cleared his throat and turned toward the window. "No, nothing like that. I just figured you'd want to get going. It's still more than ten hours back to L.A."
"I, uh. I was thinking maybe I'd stick around a while."
Misha turned back to look at Jensen, not sure he'd heard him correctly. "Um...what?"
"Maybe you could show me around? I hear there's some great art in the area." Jensen closed the distance between them as he spoke. When Misha didn't say anything back, Jensen tucked his hands into Misha's back pockets and pulled their hips flush. "Or we could just stay in? Get to know each other better?"
Misha nodded, and started to walk Jensen back toward the bedroom. "Yeah, that would be... I think we should get started on that right away."
Jensen laughed at that, and said, "I like the way you think, Mr. Collins."
Misha just rolled his eyes and kissed him, and thought, yeah, maybe stopping hadn't been such a bad idea after all.