Hiatus was quickly becoming a problem.
Specifically. Jensen missed the fuck out of Misha and was calling him for absolutely no reason. The first time was so transparent it was almost offensive….
“I need your help.”
A quick grin. “And what does the indomitable Jensen Ackles need today?”
“What the hell does West want for his birthday?”
“No. I told Jared. Figure this shit out for yourself, you fuckers. You've got months.”
“Misha.” His tone pitched low and sexy.
“Fuck you, Ackles. You wouldn't ask if it was Tom.”
A beat of silence.
“Are you jealous of my nephew?”
A long pause.
“I don't want him to be your fucking nephew. Forget it, Jensen.”
“I love Westie. You know that, Mish.”
Words that weren't said hung under his tone.
A petulant sigh. “I know. He loves you too. And the brat wants a bike.”
“Thanks, man, your the best!”
The second time was Misha’s fault and it concerned Jensen only because he sounded so...un-Misha.
Even an Overlord had bad days, and Jensen was starting to think hiatus was getting to both of them.
“No, the problem is I need to give them something impossible. But we did that last year and now we have a fucking mountain on Mars. Mars, Jen. How the fuck am I supposed to top Mars?”
“Mish, breath. You’ll figure this out.”
A long silence and a spike of worry.
“Misha? Talk to me, man.”
“I'm just tired.” Quiet, across the line. “It's driving me crazy. I just want to walk away for a few days, from all of it.”
“But you won't.”
Another long silence, and the unspoken words. Leaving would make it worse.
“Do you want me to fly out there?”
A sharp inhale and a shaking laugh. “You're supposed to be with Jared and the families this weekend. I'm fine.”
“You aren't.” Firmly.
“I'll be fine.”
It bothered Jensen for days. So he turned to the only other voice of reason.
When Jared became the voice of reason, they were reaching some epic fucking lows, but Jensen worked with what he had.
Jensen: What if we camped in Washington.
Jensen: Mish feels a little shaky.
Jared: are you worried about your boy toy?
Jensen: fuck off.
Jensen: I worry about your lame ass too, jerk.
Jared: how bad?
Jensen: meh. GISHWES Shit is stressing him. I think he could use a distraction.
Jared: is that what we're calling your dick
Jensen: I swear to fuck, J.
Jared: lemme talk to Gen.
Jared: she's gonna get us a place in Olympic National Park. Can Dani take care of flights?
Jensen: yep. I'll have her send Gen the details.
Jensen: thanks, man.
Jared: dude. Stfu.
He still sounded short tempered, and strung out on want. Impatient and so Misha it pulls a smile from Jensen as he drives.
“So did you figure it out?”
“Don't wanna talk about it, Jensen.”
“What do you want?”
“You.” A raspy purr.
“Miss you. Fucking hiatus is fucking long.”
“We just did a con together, you crazy bastard.”
“Miss you in my bed.”
A low groan. “Mish.”
“When you leaving?”
The unspoken do we have time for sex?
“Uh. We already did. I'm with JJ in the car.”
“Well that is decidedly unsexy.”
A low laugh.
“I'll let you go. Have fun. Give the princess a hug from me.”
“Yeah. Hey, Misha?”
An expectant pause.
“I fucking miss you too.”
The last time. Well. It's the time that counts, just after one am and they--Jared tags along, the overgrown sap can't resist shit like this--put him on speaker phone and giggle like schoolgirls at a sleepover.
Misha is decidedly unamused.
“Dude, is he sleeping?”
“Mish. Miiiiiiisha. Wake up, babe.”
A little sigh. “How drunk are you?”
Laughter, spilling too loud from them both.
“Pretty fucking. Heh. Wake up.”
“You have a delightful Moose to entertain you, Jensen. Let me sleep.”
“Fuck that, I don't entertain that way.”
“Not everything is sex, Jared.”
Sharp, echoing laughter. It sounds too close.
“Where the hell are you?” High, demanding.
Giggles. Like overgrown children.
“Outside.” Hiccups like a confession.
A flurry of motion and the phone disconnects.
He peers out into the darkness and sees them. The two drunk bastards, looking a little wet in the drizzle and altogether too fucking pleased with themselves. Jared is almost bouncing with excitement and Jensen is wearing a smirk too wide to be called lazy.
So he says the only thing that makes any sense. “What the fuck?”
Jensen hands off his beer and crowds into Misha, pushing wet skin into warm chest, and Misha shudders as strong arms wrap around, pull him close.
“Missed you, Mish.”
A quick, lightening fast brush of lips and then Jensen is grinning. “Think the kids wanna go camping? Thought it was time someone taught Westie how the fuck fishing works.”
Misha feels all that tension draining, twisting away in a slow steady spiral, as his best friend grins and his lover kisses promises into his temple.
“I think Vicki would love to get them outta the house for a few days.”
Jared whoops, a loud triumphant cry, and charges into the house. There's a flash of concern--pairing his oldest spawn with the wild enthusiastic puppy that is Jared always bites him on the ass--before Jensen draws him close and Misha let's himself rest there, in the other man's arms.
“Better?” Jensen asks into his hair, and Misha nods. Kisses the wet sliver of skin above his collar.