The One Love That Matters (A Sort of Fairy Tale 6/14)

Title: A Sort of Fairy Tale
Chapter: Six: The One Love That Matters
Author:
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Warning/spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1200
Rating: PG
Summary: Misha loves Jensen. Jensen is … getting there.
Chapter six summary: It hurts to say it, know that it’s true, and know that this is the last time these words will pass between them.
Notes: Thank you to for beta.

day six: Sexual assault

As if it’s a test of exactly how patient Misha can be, Jensen stops calling, stops knocking on his trailer door, stops lounging at his feet while Misha finishes his lunch. Misha takes his cues from Jensen, and leaves him alone too.

It’s … awful.

Misha is a professional. On the set, on the show, he can be Castiel without much trouble: he can put on the voice and the stare, keep his face serious and his back straight, be the best friend Dean Winchester has ever had.

Once the camera stops, though, he can only be Misha again, and while life on set carries on as it always does Misha feels more out of place than he did on the first day. Jim is around, and that helps. Jim is sensible. He always has a new book to recommend and doesn’t tolerate or perpetuate mindless chatter. If Misha actually wants mindless chatter, there’s Jared, who is brimming over with wedding plans and lately starts every sentence with “Genevieve says” or “Genevieve wants.”

Misha listens and nods in the appropriate places, and thinks that Jared will make a good dad. A big, loud, silly, loving dad.

*

A week passes. He thinks no one has noticed that he and Jensen are no longer living in each other’s back pockets, and he’s pretty fucking proud of it when he’s not utterly miserable.

He’s in Jared’s trailer, scratching Harley’s belly until his leg thumps when Jared says, “You know, I was worried about you breaking Jensen’s heart but I guess I should have been worried about what he’d do to you.”

“My heart’s not broken,” says Misha, scratching Harley. You can’t have a broken heart when you’re petting an appreciative puppy.

“Then why have you been moping around all week?” Misha looks away and Jared pokes him with his foot. “You think you’re clever but you’re so obvious, dude. Even the dogs have noticed. Why do you think they keep snuggling with you?”

“Betrayer,” Misha says to Harley. Harley lays his muzzle on Misha’s thigh and looks up at him contritely, and is instantly forgiven. He resumes scratching, this time between Harley’s ears. “What gave me away?”

“You’re hanging around here, for one thing, when you’d obviously rather be with him. So was it a fight, or –?”

“It was nothing. It was just things not working out.”

“And you just gave up? You, the great pretender and fearless leader?” Jared snorts. “Your minions would be disappointed.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” says Misha and drops his hand. Harley nudges his nose against Misha’s palm. “When you say to someone ‘this is all of me’ and they say ‘it’s not enough,’ what more do you do?”

“Is that really what Jensen said?”

“It may as well have been.”

Jared leans over and taps the top of Misha’s head like he does with the dogs when they misbehave. Misha thinks he’s going to add a “Bad Misha! No cookie!” but instead he says, tapping Misha’s head again with each word, “You. Know. Jensen. Better.”

Misha ducks his head under Jared’s enormous hand, and then pushes himself up from the floor. “The dog cure failed,” he informs Jared, and tells Harley, “Not your fault,” and leaves Jared’s trailer.

*

He sees Jensen and Jared whispering to each other later, but that’s not unusual.

He sees Jensen looking at him while they talk, and that’s not unusual either. He preferred it, though, when Jensen would wink or smile or make a face (that’s how they got the “it froze that way” face — it was the one that made Misha laugh hardest), but the look that borders on pity? That’s no good at all.

It’s a relief to go home that night, throw off his clothes and crawl into bed. His dreams have been even stranger than usual since he stopped telling stories to Jensen, full of princes frozen in ice, youngest sons setting out to seek their fortunes, cursed swans and rats protecting a golden egg; and he hopes tonight will be dreamless. He’s not needed on the set tomorrow, and just sleeping, sleeping for hours, sounds like the best way to spend his time.

He doesn’t want to talk to his mother, even.

He misses Jensen.

*

Misha wakes to a soft click on his window. At the second one he frowns, at the third he gets out of bed and opens his window. There on the ground is Jensen, getting ready to toss another pebble.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” says Misha. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Come up here before my neighbors call the cops,” says Misha and shuts the window. He buzzes Jensen into the building and opens the door for him, and waits on the sofa, his head leaning on his hand.

“Hey,” Jensen says again when he closes the door behind him. He doesn’t sit next to Misha; instead he takes the chair opposite, nearly crouching in the seat like he expects to pop back up again. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping, either.”

“I’m all right. What do you want, Jensen?”

Jensen presses his lips together a moment. “I want you to forgive me. This whole week has been awful, and I’ve missed you. I miss all the stupid shit you do, the stories and everything. It’s crazy.”

“Oh,” Misha said.

“See, the thing is,” Jensen says and clears his throat, because for a moment he was dropping into his Dean-voice as if it were the emotional epiphany of the season, “in all this, I knew I had a, you know, lover, I guess. I didn’t realize I’d gotten another best friend.” He swallows. “I miss you. I miss you a lot. I don’t want to be distant with you anymore. It’s awful and it sucks and I … want you back.”

For a moment Misha’s heart dances. It would be easy to take what he’s being given and be grateful for the crumbs. Lots of people never find love, let alone the forever kind, and settle for just someone wanting them.

Misha has never been the kind to do what’s easy. He’s never been the kind to settle.

“No, Jen,” he says quietly. “You miss the attention. You don’t miss me.”

“But, Misha –”

“Think about what you want me for,” Misha says gently, and almost smiles at him. “Think about why you miss me.” Jensen looks down at the floor, his expression stoic but his eyes, more soulful than ever, tell of his understanding and sorrow. “I love you so much,” Misha says and Jensen’s face twists, and Misha knows why: it hurts to say it, know that it’s true, and know that this is the last time these words will pass between them. “I want to make you happy. But I can’t do this unless you want to make me happy too.”

For a minute or longer, they’re both silent.

“Okay,” Jensen says and stands. He goes to the door, and then pauses and returns to Misha’s side. He kisses the top of Misha’s head, and Misha closes his eyes until he hears the front door click shut.

How do we begin to say I forgive you,
And how do we begin to repair this family affair?
I think about the never-ending way that my day never seems to want to end
I think about the loneliness of losing a friend.
♪ “Family Affair”—Abra Moore