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Do You Know What You Think You Know

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Everyone knows Jensen and Misha are together. Nobody even thinks about it. They just know. Except Jensen and Misha - they don’t know.

Nobody knows that Jensen and Misha don’t know. Except Jared, but he’s not telling. After all, it’s pretty funny.

This has been going on for a year now and everyone’s pretty comfortable with the idea. Both the people who know, and the people who don’t know. But it only takes a few things to leave the people who thought they knew not sure what they know, and the people who didn’t know, now knowing but not sure if they want to know or not.

The first thing that happened looked small and innocent enough on a cold and frosty Vancouver morning: Misha didn’t know where Jensen was, when he was asked.

Of course, they don’t live out of each other’s pockets but they do spend a lot of time together and when they’re not together they always know where the other one is. Jared’s not sure if they simply tell each other absolutely everything, or if somehow they just know. He hopes it’s the latter because that would be completely adorable. And spooky actually, now he thinks about it.

“Misha?” Bob called across set.

“Yup?” Misha looked up from his phone, his text message in mid-flow.

“Jensen’s late. Where is he?”

Misha looked around, frowned a bit and thought before saying, “If he’s not here, sorry, I don’t know,” to some concerned looks and the odd gasp.

But not seeing the concerned looks or hearing the gasps, Misha thought no more about it. He turned back to his phone and his text message, and carried on, oblivious to the whispers around the set of, “They must have had a fight”; “Do you think they’re okay?”; “Misha looks so sad.” But Misha didn’t look sad at all. He hadn’t even given it a second thought that for the first time in over a year he didn’t know where Jensen was because he didn’t know that he always knew.

Jared however was highly interested in this unusual state of affairs. Could there be trouble with the telepathic link? “Why don’t you know where Jensen is?”

“What?” Misha looked confused and looked at Jared, who just looked amused. “I’m not Jensen’s keeper.”

“Yeah, dude, you are,” Jared said cryptically and he wandered off, still smiling, before Misha had the chance to think about that. When he did think about it the best he could come up with was not some witty or sarcastic remark but a worried, “Yeah, actually, where is he?”

Misha’s phone chose that moment to ring, with Jensen’s ringtone. “Jensen? Where are you?” and if Misha’s voice sounded more concerned that he wanted to admit, he chose to ignore it.

“The car got a flat. Tell everyone I’ll be there in half an hour and give them my apologies, will you. Can you get someone to come and pick me up?”

“Consider it done.” Misha relaxed now he knew where Jensen was. Then got annoyed at himself for realizing he was living up to Jared’s now less than innocent looking remark.

Misha was over it though by the time Jensen arrived on set an hour later. Jensen’s first question was “Why did Jim ask me if we’d had a row?” as he flopped down into the director chair next to Misha.

Misha looked up at Jensen “No idea.”

“Did you say something to someone?”

“About what?”

“I dunno. How much of a pain in the ass I am sometimes?” Jensen grinned.

“I’ll tell you why” Jared said, appearing behind them and making both Jensen and Misha jump.

Jensen pointed a finger at Jared. “Seriously, dude? You did this. You told everyone we’d had a row?”

“No, I didn’t! For god’s sake for two intelligent people you can both be so thick!”

“So, what then?” Misha asked.

“This morning, you,” Jared pointed to Misha, “didn’t know where you,” and he pointed to Jensen, “were.”

“And?” Misha prompted.

“And nothing. That’s it. You guys always know where the other is. Seriously, haven’t you noticed?”

“No,” Misha and Jensen said together.

“Ah, that is so cute”, Jared grinned. Misha and Jensen glared back. “So,” he continued, sitting down. “When you, Misha, didn’t know where you, Jensen, were, everyone thought you’d had a row. Simple really.”

Misha and Jensen didn’t look as if they found it that simple.

Misha stood up from his seat and Jensen looked at him, and started, without thinking, to ask “Mish, where are you go….oh,” and he stopped, confused.

Jared laughed out loud at the disorientated looks on both his friend’s faces as Misha wandered off biting his lip to stop himself telling Jensen where he was going, and Jensen swallowed the question still half unsaid.

Over the next couple of days Jensen and Misha tentatively went back to knowing the whereabouts of each other and being comfortable in what they did and didn’t know. And everyone else breathed a collective sigh of relief that the row was over and went back to being comfortable knowing that Jensen and Misha were together and everything was fine.

The second thing that happened was bigger and scarier and definitely rocked Jensen’s perception of what he knew and didn’t know, but successfully reinforced everyone else’s.

The accident on set hadn’t been horrendous, but Misha had gone down with one hell of a crash. He’d banged his head and his elbow and had refused to go to hospital to get checked out. Jensen and Jared both tried to get him to go but he was adamant he was okay, and they gave up. Instead, Phil had confined him to his trailer for an hour to make sure he rested, and to be sure he wasn’t going to pass out on them, and naturally Jensen had sat in Misha’s trailer keeping him company.

But the thing was, Jensen knew Misha really well. Knew the way he moved and the way he sat, the inclination of his head and the tone of his voice. He noticed the changes, however small and however much Misha tried to hide them.

“You’re not well,” he tried again, sitting on the small table pleading with Misha as he stretched out on the couch.

Misha’s forearm lay across his face shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun streaming in through the window, and he mumbled through it to reassure Jensen. “I’m fine, seriously, Jensen. I’ve hit my head before. It hurts but that’s all. And the arm’s just bruised. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m worried about you.” Misha removed his arm to look at his friend, but Misha didn’t know how else to reassure him and just patted him on the knee and said, “Trust me” with his best sincere face. Jensen never trusted Misha’s sincere face but he gave up and watched over Misha as he dozed on the couch, frustrated at his stubbornness.

After the allotted hour, Phil came back to see how Misha was doing and to work out if he’d have to reschedule the rest of the day’s shoots. Misha had a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, and a headache the size of a barn, but he’d worked with worse so he passed on that he was fine. Neither Jensen nor Phil looked convinced but not knowing what they could do other than lock Misha in his trailer they shrugged and they all went back to set.

It was pretty obvious, pretty soon though that Misha wasn’t that fine, really. The headache was making him lose concentration, fluff his lines and miss his marks and after a while, Phil came up to speak to Jensen. “Take him home. Let him sleep it off. We’ll shoot Jared’s close ups this evening and we won’t lose any time in the schedule.”

Misha was predictably a mixture of annoyed and apologetic, but he allowed himself to be driven home by Jensen.

Misha even allowed himself to admit to Jensen that he was feeling tired and headachy when they got to his apartment, though he left out the bit about the blurred vision and not being able to remember where his slippers were. So Jensen fussed a bit making sure Misha would have everything to hand in his bedroom, water and headache pills the main things, and saw him settled into his bed, even though it was still early evening.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jensen regarded Misha lying tucked under his duvet, looking very sleepy, eyes half closed, hair already looking as if he’d slept for hours. “I can use my room. I’ve got spare stuff here.”

“No, it’s ok. I’m going to sleep for hours. Go home.” Misha was already half asleep, his voice slurred.

Jensen stayed anyway. He was still worried about Misha, damn stubborn bastard. Home was 20 minutes away which was too far if he needed to come back in a hurry.

He tried to tell Misha he was staying but the sound of soft snoring made him huff in amusement. Misha was a guy who really knew how to sleep.

Instead of waking him, Jensen added Misha’s phone to the collection on the bedside table thinking that if he woke up and needed him, he’d ring him, then he padded along to the kitchen to rustle up some dinner and beer.

Jared came just after midnight, having finished the evening’s shoot, to see how Misha was. He’d guessed Jensen would be there.

“How’s he doing?” Jared shed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the hooks behind the door.

“Asleep since we got here. Want a beer?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he declared flopping down tiredly into Misha’s couch. He was just getting settled, with Jensen raiding Misha’s fridge for beer, when he heard Misha moving around at the other end of the apartment. When Jensen came back with the beer, Jared flicked his head backwards. “He’s up. Do you want to check on him?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Jensen?” Misha’s voice sounded breathless and ill and he was surprised but relieved to see Jensen. He leant with his back against the wall for support. “You’re still here.”

“You look terrible. What’s wrong?” Jensen held Misha’s elbow in both hands, alarm and concern raw on his face as he took in Misha’s unfocussed, slightly frightened stare, the glisten of sweat on his forehead, the way his nose and cheeks screwed up slightly at some distasteful sensation. The t-shirt and pajama pants he’d been sleeping in looked damp and sweaty, clinging to him, making him look small and slighter than he was.

“Don’t feel good. Feel sick.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he staggered across the hall to the bathroom and the sound of vomiting closely followed the clatter of the toilet seat being lifted.

Jensen yelled back down the corridor to Jared before quickly following Misha into the bathroom and placing a comforting flat palm on his back. He murmured soothing words as Misha lifted his head and sat back leaning against the edge of the bathtub, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. “I’ve got you, take it easy.”

When Jared showed up a second later, he wasn’t sure who looked worse. Misha obviously very sick and looking as if he was about to pass out, or Jensen obviously terrified. Jared ducked down to Misha and made a quick assessment “I’m calling an ambulance. And I’ll fetch some water.” Jared stood back up and paused to look at Jensen.

Jensen looked as if he had no idea how he should deal with this, his face was distraught, standing over Misha, one hand on his shoulder, looking like he wanted to do more but not sure what that should be.

Jared felt a surge of sympathy for his friend. “He’ll be ok. Hold him. He looks like he needs it,” and with a quick smile he was gone.

Jensen had taken Jared literally he was pleased to see when he came back with Misha’s water. Jensen sat with his back to the bathtub, Misha leaning against him, his head against his shoulder and both Jensen’s arms wrapped tight around him, fingers laced together at the back, Jensen’s head turned into the top of Misha’s whispering indecipherable words into his hair. Misha had his eyes closed and Jared wasn’t sure if he was conscious or not.

“You going to be ok if I go wait for the ambulance?” Jared checked and when Jensen nodded, he left the apartment to wait in the parking lot to direct the emergency crew.

Not unexpectedly, the hospital decided Misha had to stay for tests and monitoring. He had a severe concussion which they’d all kind of suspected but Misha had thought he could sleep off. “Yeah, that always works” Jensen had muttered, his annoyance at his friend’s stubbornness hiding his concern. Misha at least had the good grace to look sheepish.

Jared finally managed to drag Jensen away for a few minutes coffee and conversation once the doctors had made numerous assurances that Misha would be fine and wasn’t in imminent danger of dying while Jensen was out of the room.

To Jared’s amusement, everyone at the hospital thought it was kind of sweet that Jensen was so worried about his boyfriend. Except of course for Jensen who didn’t know that Misha was his boyfriend.

“Well, give. What’s going on in that tiny brain of yours? You’re thinking so hard I can see the cogs turning.”

Jensen scowled and fidgeted but finally with a sigh raised his eyes from their intense scrutiny of the linoleum on the floor. “I went all useless and pathetic back there.”

After a pause where Jensen added nothing further, Jared thought he should say something helpful. “Yeah, you did.” Okay so it wasn’t inspired but it had the desired effect.

Jensen scowled. “Obviously Misha’s a friend and I should care and be concerned but I was scared. Actually scared.” He paused and thought about the next bit before adding, “And then you told me to hold him and I did and it felt …I don’t know…it felt right. It felt right to be looking after him. And I felt better. And I think he felt better. And that’s weird right?”

“Um, that’s all good so far. Not weird, I don’t think. Why weird?”

Jensen looked at Jared not really sure how his friend would take the next bit, but sighed “I wanted to kiss him.”


Jensen didn’t look as if that was the answer he expected from his big friend. He frowned “We’re just friends.”

“Friends can kiss. In fact I seem to remember you’ve already done that stuff in front of hundreds of fans,” Jared pointed out.

“I mean, like, romantically. Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean,” Jensen muttered.

Jared was grinning. “There’s nothing wrong with it, Jensen. I think you make a lovely couple.” And so did everyone else, but Jared kept that to himself.

“Oh, funny.”

Jared shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that I’m talking rubbish and I’ll feel better as soon as Misha’s better and I just over-reacted to a friend being sick.”

“Oh. I’m not going to say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s balls and you know it.”

After a long pause that Jared decided not to fill, Jensen looked anywhere but at Jared, and finally asked “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“What if he does?” Jared countered.

“You’re not helping, man.” Jensen threw him a frustrated look.

“I don’t know the answer. Do you want me to ask him?”

Jensen thought about how Jared might approach that conversation with Misha and his response came from the heart. “No fucking way. Don’t you dare.”

Two weeks after Misha’s accident, there was a convention. It was close enough that the studio was making loud noises that absolutely everyone who got an invite should go, but far enough away to warrant hotels.

Jensen still felt the same way about Misha but he hadn’t yet got up the courage to have ‘that’ conversation with Misha about it. Jensen was sure Misha hadn’t noticed anything different about Jensen’s behavior towards him so at least Jensen had time to work himself up to it.

Misha was wondering what the hell was going on with Jensen, but had decided to give him some space to work it out. If things were still off at the convention, he’d ask then.

And Jared? Well Jared just kept laughing at Jensen and threatening to tell Misha, but hopefully soon he wouldn’t need to tell Misha anything if his little arrangement worked out.

When they got to the hotel they were staying in for the convention, it didn’t’ take long before Jensen was storming along the corridor the short distance to Jared’s room.

“Open the door you bastard.” He banged hard with his fist, his head turning to look down the corridor at Misha, standing outside his room, looking back at Jensen confused and a little anxious. Actually, not just standing outside his room. Standing outside their room! The room that, according to the PA Jensen had terrorized when he found out, Jared had fixed so that Jensen and Misha would be sharing. The PA, of course, knowing that Jensen and Misha were together, hadn’t thought there was anything odd about the arrangement, but she’d hightailed it out of there pretty quick to spread the word there was trouble in paradise when Jensen had blown his top.

When Jared opened the door, Jensen shoved his way past. Jared amused, closed the door behind them.

“What are you doing? I can’t spend a night sharing with Misha the way I feel about him. It’ll be hell.”

“Or it might be heaven.” Jared smirked.

“Or it might just be as embarrassing as fuck if he sees the hard-on I get all the fucking time I’m around him these days.”

“Whoa…way too much information. C’mon man. You’re boring mooching around all the time. Just try talking to him. Or something. Anything, actually. If it doesn’t work out, he won’t hold it against you.” Jared couldn’t help himself. “Or if you’re lucky, he will.”

“You are so not funny. I hope you’re ready to pick up the fucking pieces when this all falls apart.” Jensen stormed out at least as pissed off as when he’d arrived.

“What’s going on?” Misha asked, back in ‘their’ room.

“Nothing.” Jensen flapped his hand expressing his frustration. “Just something Jared did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Jensen spat out in anger, and with passion that took Misha aback. Jensen took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“Um, no problem.” Misha paused, then said, “I rang down for another room. Told them there’d been a mistake.” He watched Jensen’s face. He had no idea what was going on, but was fairly sure it had something to do with the mistake with the room. Normally Misha had no problem getting to the bottom of Jensen’s moods but he was having trouble now. And Jensen’s reaction to his statement didn’t help clear it up either.

“What? Why? Well, I mean if you want to? Um, yeah, good idea.”

“Um, well I’ll go then and see you later?” Misha stood up and picked up his bag.

Jensen was staring at the floor. “Sure. Sure. Yeah, see you later.”

Misha was out of the door when Jensen called him back. “Mish, wait.” Jensen took the few steps to the door and taking Misha’s wrist in his hand, pulled him back into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Jensen? What’s wrong? You know I’d do anything if I can help.”

“You might change your mind about that in a minute.” Jensen paused, looked at the floor, looked at the door, looked back into the room, and finally breathed, made a decision and looked up to meet Misha’s questioning blue eyes. They were close in the confines of the room’s entry way and Jensen didn’t know what he was looking for in Misha’s face but all he saw was worry and concern, and he knew he was the cause of that, and he knew Jared was right, and that he had to do something. He was already risking losing everything that he already had with Misha. What could he do that would make it so much worse? So he leant in and kissed him. An almost-chaste, quick, lips against lips, but, he hoped, holding enough of a hint of what could be if Misha chose to take it.

Jensen pulled back to look at Misha’s face. Misha didn’t look worried anymore. He didn’t look afraid. He didn’t even look surprised. He looked like he was thinking it over. He looked as if he was trying to work out if this was a gag. Jensen couldn’t let him think it was a gag having got this far, so he leaned in and kissed him again. With more pressure, with a little more hunger, taking Misha’s wrist again, before sliding his hand down the back of Misha’s hand and curling his fingers around Misha’s fingers, holding on for dear life, it feels like. And after what seemed like an age to Jensen, Misha responded and leant into the kiss, his lips parting a little letting the tip of Jensen’s tongue briefly experience the wet heat of Misha’s mouth. Jensen thinks he groaned. He wanted to go deeper, for ever, but Misha drew back and they broke apart, eyes locked, a bare few inches between them.

“Is this okay?” Jensen asked. He felt short of breath, nervous as hell and excited all at once.

Instead of answering directly, Misha asked, “Is this what the past two weeks has been about?”

“I guess. Yes. Sorry.” Misha punched Jensen in the arm. “Ow!”

“I thought it was something serious, you dick.”

“It is serious!” Misha shook his head slowly, staring at Jensen as if he might be crazy. Jensen’s mouth goes dry. “Is that a no?” he manages to croak.

“No, idiot. It’s a yes,” Misha said.


“The answer to your question is ‘yes’, this is okay.”

“Oh…Good.” Jensen’s mouth decided saliva is actually a good thing, and he ran his tongue around his lips to wet them. Misha watched the motion, his pupils visibly dilating in front of Jensen which was actually very, very hot.

Misha, eyes still locked on Jensen’s mouth, leant in, pushing Jensen back against the wall of the narrow space. He laced his fingers through Jensen’s, and Jensen gripped tight in return.

As Misha pulled him forwards, their lips touching then pushing, then parting, tongues tangled together, Jensen put his hand on the back of Misha’s neck and pulled him even closer. They pushed forward, mouths sliding and sucking, tongues licking and writhing. Misha’s mouth was hot and wet around Jensen’s tongue, the skin on the back of his neck was cool and dry under Jensen’s palm. Jensen wanted it all, all the sensations, all the cool, warm, wet, dry places on Misha’s body. He wanted it all right now, his dick was telling him, and anyone else who cared to look.

Eventually, they broke the kiss off with gasping, heavy breathing as if they’d been running.

Misha actually huffed a laugh and shook his head slightly. “The last two weeks you’ve been avoiding me and we could have been doing this.”

“Sorry.” Jensen pushed Misha back a little so there was a gap between them and looked at Misha then looked down between them. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” Misha followed Jensen’s eyes to his erection, a solid bulge in his jeans, then back up to his face. Then Misha pulled at Jensen’s hand, and walked them across to the bed.

They sat on the end of the bed. Close, touching, a little self-conscious at first, a little uncertain in the newness of it all, but not for long. Their hands stroked and touched, arms, knees, hands, faces, hair, thighs, necks. It didn’t seem like loss of contact was an option for either of them. Jensen needed this like he needed air. He leant closer. He roamed his hands down Misha’s side, along his thigh to his knee and back again, around his back, across his chest. Misha’s heart beat fast, his breathing rapid and excited. Jensen kissed Misha’s ear, his jaw, his neck, his cheek, his nose. He’s practically sitting in Misha’s lap by the time he kisses Misha’s Adam’s apple, and Misha throws his head back to give him more access. Jensen sucked lightly, careful not to leave a mark, and tentatively pushed his erection against Misha’s, swearing lightly under his breath when Misha’s breath caught in response.

He pushed Misha encouraging him to fall back to lie on the bed, then knelt on the end of the bed and just looked. Misha looked back. What a sight they both must make now. A little flushed, a little sweaty, a little rough around the edges. And a lot horny. Misha rolled his hips and raised an eyebrow.

“I hope you’re not just going to look.”

In answer, Jensen flicked a finger on Misha’s jeaned erection, which rewarded him with a sharp intake of breath, then he climbed off the bed. He kicked off his shoes, then dropped to his knees and removed Misha’s shoes and socks. Not for the first time as it happens, but this time felt different, this time he was hyper-conscious of the touch and feel of Misha’s skin under his fingertips. And this is just his fucking feet. With impatience, Jensen climbed back on the bed. Crawling up to kiss Misha before settling on his knees beside his chest.

He watched Misha’s face while he undid a high button on Misha’s shirt and ran a finger along his clavicle. He saw the flutter in Misha’s neck as he felt the smooth skin under his rougher fingers. He wanted to feel that flutter like nothing he’s ever wanted before, and he moved his other hand up to lay it against Misha’s throat. He could feel the rising pace of Misha’s pulse. Still the wide, blue eyes watched him.

Jensen undid another button, then another and another on Misha’s shirt until he could pull it all the way open. Misha’s breath hitched as Jensen’s hand glided up and down his sternum, marveling at how flat and tight the skin was, and how good the line of bone and muscle felt under his fingers. He could almost do this all day but Misha lifted his hand so it sat under Jensen’s shirt on his waist against the skin above his waistband, and Jensen’s hand stopped moving. It was obvious his brain was incapable of multitasking at the moment. When Misha curled a finger and tucked it under the waistband of Jensen’s jeans and boxers, and began stroking his abdomen from hip to hip ending up by lingering on the thin line of fine hair that led the way from his navel to his dick, Jensen may have lost the ability to do anything except focus on that long finger pushed into his underwear and so close, but not close enough to the head of his dick. Jensen thought he sighed contentedly, but from Misha’s point of view it was more of a nonsensical grunt.

Jensen took a deep breath to compose himself, then took hold of Misha’s shoulder and hip and rolled him over onto his front. Taken by surprise, Misha’s whole body tensed, but Jensen just wanted to lavish equal attention on his back.

Jensen leaned down to drop his forehead onto Misha’s shoulder and whispered, “Trust me.”

Jensen stripped off Misha’s shirt. Both hands stroked over Misha’s back and he leant forward to suck and nibble at Misha’s neck, and to run his fingers and tongue over the jut of shoulder blades that were surprisingly erotic. When Misha arched his neck and tried to reach behind him to greet Jensen’s probing tongue as it licked against his flesh, Jensen put his hand in his hair and pushed his head back down gently. “Don’t look, don’t move, just enjoy.” Misha groaned, and Jensen smiled. This moaning and groaning thing was definitely going to be encouraged.

Jensen stood up and stripped completely. Every time Misha tried to turn to watch, Jensen pushed him back. When Jensen was completely naked he climbed back on to the bed, straddling Misha’s hips and his balls and cock rested on the bare skin of Misha’s back. Misha bucked up and Jensen was not going to complain about that one little bit. The heat from Misha’s back in contact with his cock and balls had him biting his lip and trying to think of anything not sexy. Very hard to do when Misha was hot, his back flushed bright crimson.

“Jeans” he moaned.

“What?” Jensen was almost too far gone to process the statement.

“Jeans. Need to take them off.”

Jensen got it second time round, raised himself up on his knees, still straddling Misha.

“Lift your hips,” he said, and Misha did, causing Misha’s ass to push into Jensen’s crotch. His mind went places he probably wasn’t ready for but he still rubbed his cock a couple of times against the rough denim before reaching under Misha’s hips and blindly undoing Misha’s belt. The damned belt buckle was difficult when he couldn’t see what he was doing, and it didn’t help that Misha was fidgeting and giving little thrusts into Jensen’s hands, but finally he got the belt undone and popped the buttons on Misha’s jeans quickly and efficiently. He could feel Misha’s cock hanging hard in his underpants and as he rubbed the heel of his hand against it, Misha groaned loudly and pushed down. Jensen really hadn’t accounted for what it would do to him when he heard those sounds.

He slipped his fingers into the waistband of Misha’s boxers, and pulled jeans and boxers down together to Misha’s knees. Misha’s ass was a very fine sight indeed but when Jensen worked out how long it was going to take to get Misha’s jeans all the way off like this, he decided to stop playing.

“Okay, you can turn over.”

Misha flipped over at once and gratefully kicked his clothes all the way off. Then took his time looking at Jensen, and Jensen let him, watched his eyes track from his face, down his chest, down his belly and when Misha’s eyes reached Jensen’s cock and lingered there, it twitched under his scrutiny.

Misha ran his hand over Jensen’s chest, lightly brushing his nipples and felt them harden under his touch, all the while watching the effect it had on Jensen’s cock, tucking away what worked and what didn’t for next time. Next time. Shit, half an hour ago he didn’t even know there was going to be a first time.

Jensen looked at Misha and wondered why the hell he’d left it so long, all the nervous anxiety of the past couple of weeks forgotten. He was the one making Misha moan and wriggle and buck and leak pre-come like he was going to burst any second. It made him feel powerful, but also vulnerable, hoping he lived up to Misha’s expectations.

He was still reveling so much in the effect he had on Misha’s body, he forgot the effect on his own and when Misha surprised him and wrapped one hand round the shaft of his cock, gripped tight, and stroked upwards, the pad of his thumb sliding over the slit, he arched his back. “Oh, God, oh, God,…,” seemed on repeat.

He felt his muscles tighten, and a bundle of heat in his spine, a shiver of pins and needles in his thighs, and he couldn’t stop himself as a few short, fast strokes later he shot streams of hot white come over Misha’s hand and belly. Misha kept stroking as Jensen softened until Jensen started moaning as the sensitive nerves objected. When Misha swapped his hand from Jensen to himself, Jensen batted it away, his hand replacing Misha’s. Jensen’s spread his fingers and slowly stroked the length of Misha’s cock from balls to tip and back again.

“Jensen, just get on with it, please,” Misha gasped and Jensen changed his grip to hold Misha firmly in his hand, and stroked him up and down his length with fast, even movements, feeling Misha tense under him, knowing he was close, moving his thumb so it pressured the head with every stroke, feeling Misha’s muscles contract as he came, with a prolonged, vibrating groan, bucking his hips into Jensen’s fist as he milked every last jerk of his orgasm.

Both gasping, they fell into each other, Jensen collapsing onto Misha then rolling off to one side when Misha grunted at Jensen’s weight on his chest.

“Well, that was ok.” Jensen turned on his side to look at Misha, amusement playing on his features.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Misha agreed, smiling at the ceiling. “We’ll do better next time.” He took Jensen’s hand and held it against his chest.

“Shit” Jensen sat up suddenly, his eye had caught the clock by the bed. “We should have been at dinner half an hour ago.” He looked quite horror-stricken as he added, “Everyone will know.”

Misha and Jensen made it to dinner over an hour late as it happened, the shower having taken longer than expected (for ‘reasons’), but no-one seemed surprised or to mind.

Jared looked up when they came in to the private dining room in a rush, and a knowing smile crept over his features at the guilty looks on Jensen and Misha’s faces. Jensen was horrified when Jared greeted them across the table filled with their friends from cast and crew with, “It’s okay. I told them you’d be late because you were having make-up sex.”

Misha and Jensen held their breath but no-one else seemed to think Jared’s remark out of place.

Jared winked at them and stood up, whispering conspiratorially, “You now know what everyone else has known for a year.”

“What?” Jensen and Misha asked together.

“Oh, you must stop doing that. It’s just so cute.” Jared sat back down, Misha and Jensen glaring at his laughing face. Jared was quite happy that Jensen and Misha finally knew they were together.