Nobody Sees, Nobody Knows [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Eleven

"So. Why did you do that to poor Tahmoh back there," I smirk. Jensen's brow furrows into a frown as he studies my face in the darkness of the bar. "Is it because you were jealous?"

"Hell no," he slurs, but I guess it's hard to give someone attitude when you can barely stand. "That was payback for last night." I laugh when Jensen bristles, all self-righteous charm. The music is so loud it seems to sync with my pulse, throbbing in my throat. I cock an eyebrow at him and he grins in surrender. "Well...also because this," he reaches around to cup my ass in both hands. "Is mine."

I look skyward with no small amount of annoyance. He's so sadly mistaken, but I find that I like him this way. Drunk and oblivious and painfully overt. It's amusing.

Sometimes when he doesn't think I'm awake, Jensen honest to fuck talks to it. It takes all my willpower not to laugh into whatever pillow I'm stuffing my face against. Jensen, of course, takes the twitching to be some kind of preternatural response from my - or should I say his - ass. It's the weirdest and most endearing thing, and it makes me wonder what the actual fuck my life has come to. Pretending to be asleep so as not to embarrass my best friend and costar as he rambles to my actual butt cheeks about how his day went. I mean, seriously, doesn't he have a wife for that? Anyways.

"Is that so?" I grin back.

"My assbutt," he growls playfully in my ear. The drunk fuck is getting a little too handsy and I gulp apprehensively, staring at the floor as we continue dancing.

"That's right, Jensen. Whatever you say."

I mean, it's no big deal, right? The ass obsession is kind of a Dean thing, too, so maybe it's character bleed.

"You're my - hic - you're my cherry pie," Jensen rambles. Even incoherent, it's so unfair the effect that deep, husky voice has on me. Especially when my ass is still gloved in tight, navy denim and his hands.