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

Chapter Thirteen

I can't move.

Grumbling something incoherent even to my own ears, I paw roughly at my assailant and struggle to blink my eyes open. What time is it? Why is my head pounding? 

I pan blearily around the room with one eye. And where the hell am I?

Then I spot that ridiculous aquarium and my heart starts racing. I'm in Jensen's trailer.

In his bed.

Just as the realization begins dawning on me, seeping slowly through the thick haze of fatigue and alcohol, the body beside me shifts slightly, making the sheets rustle.

It's Jensen alright, and he has me pinned on my back. His hand is wrapped around my torso and his leg is curled possessively over my hip. Presently, his mouth is pressed against the bare skin of bicep exposed by my t-shirt, no doubt gracing me with an angry, red welt. So Jensen's a clingy sleeper. Cool.

"Morning, babe," Jensen's scratchy voice snaps me back to the situation at hand. His eyes are still closed but he's mumbling softly in his sleep.

Of fucking course. He thinks I'm his wife...

I would laugh if I still had any mirth left in my soul. As it is, I'm terrified. Because I know Jensen. I know him well enough to predict with ten thousand percent accuracy that he will flip shit when he wakes up to find me in bed with him. He'll undoubtedly admit something untoward went down between us and make the whole thing into a A Huge Deal.

I push against the soporific warmth crushing me, trying half-heartedly to free myself from his grasp. Memories from last night start flooding in. Jensen and his sheer idiocy. Driving out to meet Amy. Falling asleep next to him. I whimper. Why, oh why, does it always have to be me?

"Jensen," I rub my eyes with the back of my hand. "Wake up."

He mutters something unintelligible into my shoulder and slips a hand under my shirt, running his fingers across my lean torso. I can't suppress a small moan as the pads of his fingers trail across my abs.

Obviously I don't feel like Danneel, because Jensen grunts and his eyes flicker open immediately. His forehead creases with confusion as he takes me in.

"W-what... What are you doing here?"

This time when I push him off, his arm snaps back immediately and his leg quickly follows suit. I rub my thighs to restore the circulation.

"You're in my bed," Jensen half-states, half-asks.

"I hear water is wet, too."

Jensen sobers me instantly with a murderous look.

"What the hell happened last night?" Panic is growing in his voice as he glowers at me. I don't like this. I don't need this. I don't want this. I want him to break into a carefree smile, pat the spot next to him and tell me stay, let's watch documentaries and drink that stupid biological herbal tea you love. He should react like the Jensen I call best friend. He shouldn't be freaking out at me right now, because I did nothing wrong.

"Look. You were drunk-"

"Get out," he gasps.

"Jensen, relax-"

"Out, Misha."

I bite my lip before crawling dazedly out of his bed. If he's using my full name - not Mishi or Mish - then...ouch. He's majorly pissed.

Jensen looks down at himself and colour rushes immediately to his cheeks when he realizes he isn't wearing a stitch of clothing. This gets me flustered. The suppositions and assumptions taking root in his mind must be spreading deadly tendrils of horror, as I desperately need to clear my name.

"Jensen, I can explain..."

Damnit; why does my tongue taste like cotton?

Jensen just glares daggers at me, as if this is my fault. He's the one who drank too much; he's the one who almost cheated on his wife. I was just trying to be a good friend.

"You were ridiculously horny," I start, words spilling fast from my lips. "I tried to - I told you to stop - tried to remind you about Dani-"

"Misha, what are you-"

"Look, it's fine - I don't know what you've got worked out with - just pick up the phone and, shit, this is not my fault-"

"Mish, for fuck's sake, I don't speak befuddled angel."

"I tried to stop you, but you were drunk-"

"You already said that-"

"I mean seriously drunk. You were going on about my ass and - shit, that's not what I - it's not like - we didn't-"

"Oh my God."

For a second I think he's going to yell at me, but then a strange expression crosses his face. He sits up in a flash of panic, swallowing hard as a wave of nausea washes almost visibly over him.

"I'm going to be sick," he breathes, a hand flying immediately to his mouth.
I wince. Wow, okay. I'll try not to take this personally.

Jensen tears off the covers and leaps into the bathroom. And that's when I remember that karma's a bitch and her middle name is Hangover.

For a second I just remain standing there, awkwardly scratching the nape of my neck. Oh look, I think weakly. Jensen's busy puking now and I can't further incriminate myself.

I heave a long, grievous sigh and push myself forward.

"Hey...you okay?" I follow Jensen into the small enclosure, concern creasing my brow.

He's kneeling in front of the toilet, slumped forward with his broad shoulders trembling as he releases the contents of yesterday's binge. Gingerly, I lower myself down beside him and start rubbing his back in small, soothing circles. This makes him heave again and I try not to gag as I wait, knowing he needs to flush it all out of his system. That's it; get it out...

He goes for it one last time before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Why are you still here," he groans, chest heaving slightly with the contractions of his stomach. I gulp and avert my gaze before rising slowly to me feet. Damn. I've done a lot of stupid things in my time, but sleeping with Jensen - even if it was just sleeping - takes the cake. It takes the whole goddamn baked goods industry.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll go. But you can relax, Jensen. We didn't do anything." My heart clenches bitterly as I reach for the doorknob. "I don't think I'll ever be that drunk in my entire life."

With that, I slip out of the bathroom and slam the trailer door behind me.