"Take off your shirt!" a feminine voice screamed over the crowd. An echoing whoop was followed as people voiced their approval.
Great. As if being up here isn't enough, it's going to be one of those crowds. Maybe I should just go.
Jensen looked out over the crowd, not pausing on any particular face. So many people spent months looking forward to this convention. It's so damn expensive to sit in that crowd and watch us. I'm sure a lot of them saved for the longest time. I can't leave because one girl upset me.
Another screaming demand from the crowd made his eyes lower and color rise in his cheeks. "I'm, not- not gonna do that. Thanks though." He stuttered, feeling stupid.
Suddenly screams filled the room and without turning he knew who had joined him on stage. Finally. He looked over to find Misha striding towards him, a smile plastered to his face. Jensen narrowed his eyes as Misha reached for him.
Misha's hands grasped either side of Jensen's face and planted a kiss on his cheek, to the pleasure of the crowd. Jensen clenched his jaw to keep his lip from trembling in embarrassment. Misha released his face and patted his shoulder, leaving his warm hand there for support. He took the microphone from Jensen's shaky hands and lifted it to his mouth.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's be polite now." He purred in a low voice. Screams were mixed with giggles as he kept talking, but Jensen couldn't focus. Before he knew it, Misha was tugging on him, leading him off stage. He made sure to wave at the crowd and give them a fake smile before he ducked away and hurried to his hotel.
Days later, Jensen stood in the scalding shower, his back to the spray as jets pounded on his neck. He felt like crap. He stayed there until the hot water began fading, far too soon for his liking. He stepped out and toweled off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he left the bathroom. He froze when he found the TV on and Misha relaxing on the small couch. Misha looked over with a goofy smile and waved before turning back.
"I uh, I just need clothes." Jensen mumbled as he walked to find his sleep pants and a shirt. He slipped back into the bathroom to dress before leaving; rubbing his neck in hopes the ache would go away.
"How are you doing man?" Misha asked as he sipped something in a silly glass. That's not my cup…. Jensen eyed it and wondered what was in it.
"My neck hurts like a friggin' jerk." Jensen said before realizing he slipped into Dean's mind for a second. He sighed and used his other hand to rub his eyes.
"C'mere. I'll help." Misha called eyes still on the TV. Jensen walked over tiredly and waited, unsure of what was happening. Misha tore his gaze from the TV to look up, his blue eyes wrinkled with concern.
"Here." He pointed to the floor in front of him and put both feet on the floor. Jensen shrugged and sank down, resting his back against the small couch. Misha's warm hands appeared on his neck and Jensen resisted the urge to groan at the massage. He smells like cinnamon again.
Jensen smiled and relaxed back. He could feel the tension leaving his neck in the hands of his best friend. Everyone thought that was Jared's role. It had been, until Misha appeared on set one day. Jensen smiled at the memory. He remembered thinking "What is he doing? Is this in the script!?" But the way Misha spoke, all gruff and gravely, and most of the things he did were cute. I definitely won't share that thought with anyone. Ever. His thoughts drifted to that day and he wondered what Misha had thought of him.
Jensen felt his head fall to the side as he dozed, and he snapped it back. Misha was leaning back on the couch, watching the ending of the movie.
"Sorry." Jensen mumbled as he stood. His neck felt phenomenally better, but now his back hurt. He sighed and sank onto the other end of the tiny couch. Misha offered him a drink but he declined.
"Do you want to watch last week's episode?" Misha asked with his eyes still glued to the screen, though the credits were now rolling.
"Not really. Kinda annoyed with it."
"Yeah. Me too."
They sat in companionable silence for a while. Jensen turned his thoughts to the show that had taken up so much of his life. It made him, him. He had been growing increasingly frustrated with the higher ups. They were taunting the fans. Misha had brought it up a week ago and mentioned the term "queerbaiting". It definitely fit. There were so many tells and signs of a relationship between Cas and Dean, but the writers never outright made it happen. He sighed and looked towards the man a foot away. They had discussed the topic of Destiel, which Jensen found to be a silly name, and both agreed they didn't hate the idea. He knew Misha was pretty cool about everything, so it wasn't a surprise for him.
Misha looked over and copied Jensen's yawn. "They need me up at the crack of dawn to get a scene. I should go. You okay?" His creased brow made him seem younger, which Jensen found odd.
"I'm good, man. Thank you."
Misha stood with a smile and left, the trailer seeming so much quieter without the other man. Jensen wondered idly if it would be better if he worked to find someone to share it with. In all the years he'd had it, he hadn't brought anyone back. Sure he'd dated, but nothing ever moved into seriousness. He sighed and stood, collecting Misha's weird glass and washing it in the small sink before putting it in the cupboard above the tiny stove, right next to the other eight that already resided in there. He shook his head with a smile and made a note to make Misha take them back.