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A Little Body Appreciation Part 1: Thighs

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He runs. That’s got to be it. The yoga, the healthy eating, all that Jensen understood. There was always a lot left up to the imagination at the beginning when they were just getting to know each other, but once the trench coat came off, Misha wasn’t the tiny guy that he envisioned. Somehow, despite being only slightly shorter than himself, Jensen always saw him as a little dude. When shooting for season nine came around, he wasn’t on set when Misha was shooting the laundromat scenes, but he’d spent enough time watching dailies and seen the blatant objectification photos from fans talking about Misha’s shoulders and back muscles that Jared showed him on twitter to change the way he looked at Mish. He watched the E4K videos and his ice bucket challenge. He had a chuckle over a fake power point presentation Danneel had sent him, one of each of the guys that highlighted their physicality. He knew the guy was fit, but he just couldn’t account for those thighs.

Jen was a bit of an athlete at one point even though those days were long past, and god knows Jared spent a lot of time working out, but it wasn’t like Misha was in there alongside him doing leg presses. How the hell did his thighs get like that just doing yoga? It had to be the running. They were so thick and solid. Somehow they made jeans look like something that should be in a skin mag, and there were days the fabric stretched to its limit when he moved or when his muscle flexed, and something about them made Jen want to dig his fingers into them. A thought entered his mind from time to time wondering just how he could test how strong they were. Sometimes Jensen would have a moment of self-consciousness, looking at his own legs in photos of him and Mish, thinking his legs were ridiculously skinny in comparison, even though his thighs weren’t too shabby either. Every time Misha wore jeans, Jen’s eyes couldn’t help but lower to check them out at least twice, once if he was lying to himself. Today was no different.

Misha came out wearing Jensen’s #SPNFamily shirt. He teased Jen for just slapping his face on a shirt, but he wore it anyway. Jen had worn Misha’s Random Acts shirt, and there was no way Misha wasn’t going to support Jensen. It wasn’t in his ability to neglect his friends. When Misha came out in the shirt though, Jensen’s eyes drifted to those damn jeans. Misha looked so fucking proud, standing there, legs shoulder width apart, fists on his hips like Lynda Carter striking a Wonder Woman pose. His jeans were stretched tight over his quads, and Jensen swore the stitching was going to rip if he did a squat.

“Nice shirt,” he said, dragging his eyes up to meet Misha’s.

“Thanks, I made it myself,” Misha teased.

“That’s apparent.”

“Oh, stop. You broke a website. Congratulations. Are you ready for this?”

“The photo ops?” Jensen scratched the back of his head, trying to keep his eyes from darting down. “Yeah, I guess. What are we doing?”

“I’m going to fangirl over you,” Misha said with a huge grin, pulling out his phone.

“Great.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Stop whining, it’s going to be great. Plus, publicity for the shirt,” Misha said, waving one of his hands along his torso like it was a prize from The Price is Right. “I’ll tweet the photo, then you can tweet one with a link. It’ll be awesome. Trust me.”

Jensen sighed. “Okay, okay. Let’s do this.” He turned to the photographer and waved, letting them know they were ready, then he turned to Misha. “Wait, what am I doing?”

“Just stand there like you’re god’s gift to…anyone with eyes,” Misha said.

Jen faced the camera and stood there. As soon as it was done and the photographer stepped out, he turned to Misha, who had a huge grin spread across his face. “Now what, evil genius?”

“Take off your shirt,” Misha said, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

Jensen’s face flushed. “Um, what?”

“Trade me shirts. You put on your shirt, and tweet out that photo out with the Represent link.” Misha started to take off his shirt.

“Whoa, wait, what are you doing?”

Misha narrowed his eyes. “Stop being a prude.” He pulled the shirt off over his head and turned it right side out, throwing it at Jensen.

After a second of staring, Jensen started unbuttoning his shirt, the other tucked between his knees. He quickly pulled his arms out of the sleeves and shook out his shirt, folding it in half before handing it to Misha who was just standing there without a shirt, smiling. He unfolded it and slipped it on, buttoning it up while Jensen quickly covered himself. The shirt smelled like Misha and felt like a hug.

Fuck, Jen thought. Fuck.