Life Just Kind of Dances Through Ya (A Sort of Fairy Tale 11/14)

Title: A Sort of Fairy Tale
Chapter: Ten: Life Just Kind of Dances Through Ya
Fandom: SPN RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Warning/spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1300
Rating: PG
Summary: Misha loves Jensen. Jensen is … getting there.
Chapter eleven summary: “Somebody comes into your life and it’s like you can’t even remember who you were before they came along.”
Notes: Thank you to for beta.

day eleven: Economics & Work

Misha wants to line Jensen’s path with daffodils and sole his shoes with gold. He wants to give Jensen seashells and robins’ eggs.  He thinks no one alive has ever been so handsome, so gentle, so unique as his Jensen, and he wants to grab people’s arms and demand they agree with him like a sidewalk madman.

He doesn’t, of course, because that would just embarrass Jensen, but there’s no denying he is recklessly, absurdly in love.


There’s no time in the morning to dawdle over coffee and toast and figure things out. They shower (together — it’s faster) and take their separate cars to the set, and then there are lines and actions to rehearse and costumes and makeup to put on, and then scenes to film and film and film. There’s no time to be alone with Jensen, to suggest they run away for a while, to relearn the taste of Jensen’s mouth.

Between takes, Misha plays a little stickball with Jared (the ball is a rolled-up wad of gaffer’s tape) and talks books with Jim,  writes down the story he told to Jensen the night before and starts one about Mort the Pony, and thinks, Children’s books. Hm. He tweets some nonsense to the minions and checks on the UNICEF page.

When Jensen finally has a spare moment and drops into a chair beside him, Misha just takes his hand. Not even takes it — just weaves their fingers together and lets them loosely hang. Jensen leans back his head and closes his eyes, and when he’s called back, he sighs, kisses Misha on the forehead and heads off without a word.

When the long day is over (and it’s late, it’s always late), Jensen says, “Is it okay if we see each other tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

Misha almost suggests they can just sleep, but that didn’t work out so well the last time so he just says, “Okay. Sleep well. Call me if you need a bedtime story.”

Jensen smiles a dirty, promising smile. “I will definitely call you.”

When Jensen does call, as soon as he gets home if Misha guesses the time right, Misha tells him the Adventure of Mort the Pony and the Queen of Astoria, when Mort the Pony recovered her stolen Crown Jewels but didn’t marry the queen even when she pleaded because he was an adventurer pony, not a domestic one.

“I love you,” he says before he says good night, and Jensen says, “I know.”


The scenes they have to film are heavy on action, light on emotion. That’s good — Misha’s not sure he can handle another scene like the kiss, particularly since there is a lot of discussion going on between the writers, Eric and the network about whether they’re going to air that take or not. Jensen was right: if they use the take with the kiss, it’ll change season six.

Misha hopes they’ll use that take. “It’ll be such an interesting arc to play,” he tells Jared and Jensen, while Jared looks skeptical (that he is not teasing Jensen to death about kissing a man on camera tells Misha he has no idea what to think about it) and Jensen stares at his mouth. “Castiel adapting to humanity — and what better person to do it with than the man he loves?”

“I don’t think the country is ready for that kind of story on network TV,” says Jared.

“It doesn’t have to change direction of the show. Just be there, in the background. A little scene every few episodes to just show they’re working on it.”

“Love scenes,” says Jensen, still staring at his mouth, and Misha deliberately licks his lips.

“You’re coming over Saturday night,” he informs Jensen, who just nods, enraptured.

“They’re making googly eyes at each other,” Jared informs Sadie. “Now we know why Misha doesn’t come play with us anymore.”

“I’d play with them now but I’ve got fake blood all over my face,” says Misha.

“It is scary how sexy you are right now,” says Jensen.

“My poor puppies,” says Jared, protectively covering Sadie’s ears.


Theirs isn’t the first relationship to begin on-set, of course, but Misha suspects it’s the most mellow. They don’t make an announcement, because that would be ridiculous, but no one acts surprised when they hold hands or lean against each other comfortably in quiet moments. Misha was a little worried that their chemistry would be tempered, but with the first intimate scene they have together it’s obvious that the chemistry is still there. It just has a different flavor now, a deeper level of trust.

They play their scenes a few different ways: as if Dean and Castiel have kissed and want to again but don’t know how to broach the subject; as if they long to touch and yet don’t dare; as if neither are thinking of anything but surviving the end, and once that’s accomplished, then they can allow themselves to fall in love; as if they just finished making love before the camera started rolling.

(These takes are Misha’s favorites. They feel electric, and sometimes he wants to touch Jensen just to see if he’ll get a spark from his skin.)


Saturday night, Jensen shows up at Misha’s with an overnight bag and his guitar. “Planning to stay a while?” Misha says, utterly pleased, and Jensen blushes a little and smiles.

“I figured the U-Haul would be presumptuous.”

“Maybe next week,” says Misha and pulls him to the sofa, because he hasn’t kissed Jensen for an entire three hours and needs to change that, pronto.

It’s very late when they finally move to the bedroom to eat dinner (proof of how Jensen flipped his world upside down: sex is had on the couch, eating in bed, and he supposes next they’ll start showering in the hallway) with the stereo playing Korean pop (Jensen said, “What is this song about?” and Misha said, “I have no idea, I think that’s why I like it,”) and Jensen says, “I guess you know I mean it now.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty convinced.”

“Good.” Jensen tries and fails to get rice into his mouth with chopsticks, and finally gives up and just scoops it into his mouth. “Funny how this happens, isn’t it?” he says and swallows. “Somebody comes into your life and it’s like you can’t even remember who you were before they came along.”

“I think you’re giving me way too much credit,” says Misha. His chest is not covered with grains of rice, unlike a certain someone else’s, and he holds the chopsticks with practiced ease. “I haven’t done anything but enjoy you.”

Jensen shakes his head slowly, his gaze thoughtful and distant. “No. I mean.” He sighs. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. There’s always something new to look forward to. Getting up in the morning, it’s like my birthday when I was a kid. I keep thinking, ‘What’s Misha going to do today?’ You come into a room and everyone is looser, you know? And me, I’m just happier.” He looks at Misha, serious but smiling. “I need you to know that. I’m happy. You make me really happy.”

Misha smiles and kisses Jensen simply, licking up a drop of sweet-and-sour sauce while he’s there. “Good. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“It usually hasn’t been,” Jensen says and feeds him a potsticker.

Misha eats it and wipes sauce from his mouth with his thumb. “Well, now you’re with somebody who knows how to do it right. No drama. No misery. Just you and me, riding Mort the Pony off into the sunset.”

Jensen chuckles and eats more rice, still thoughtful. “I like the sound of that. Let’s do that.”

“Hi-ho, Mort, and away,” says Misha.

Butterflies turn into people
when my boy walks down the street
Maybe he should be illegal
He just makes life too complete

♪ “When My Boy Walks Down the Street”—the Magnetic Fields

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