That's When We Uncover [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Thirteen

I've been running on fumes every since Misha left a week ago.

Even though I have Dani in my bed every night, sleep continues to evade me. Part of the issue, I know, is the adjustment to my circadian rhythm; ever since I got with Misha I've had way better things to do at night than sleep.

But I'll have to make the transition back to normalcy, at least for the next month and a bit. The holiday season is fast approaching, and so is Dani's due date. And Misha isn't there anymore. At least my insomnia will come in handy when the babies are keeping us up all night.

More than anything, I want Misha here when they're born. He's amazing. He can pat and burp and feed and change babies like nobody's business, and most importantly, he knows how to take care of the big baby that I've become.

I'm Jensen fucking Ackles and a year ago I didn't cuddle or try to cook romantic breakfasts or beg and plead on my knees for a quickie, or show any semblance whatsoever of weakness or emotional vulnerability.

But that was before a beautiful thing called Mish happened to me.

I pull into the parking lot of the hotel where we booked the convention, and turn off the ignition.

It's an elegant mass of stone and marble, an old building that has been graced by its fair share of celebrities over the years.

The manager booked us in an effort to further expand the hotel's convention circuit, and the showrunners appreciate the opportunity to treat our fans to an early Christmas present. So despite my wife's pregnancy and the fast-approaching holidays, I was convinced to stay the entire weekend. It should be a pretty awesome event; all autograph sales will go to charity, and we're expecting our biggest turnout yet.

Bundled against a cold I'm not used to back home, I pull my navy wool pea coat tighter around my torso and walk through the revolving doors into the main lobby.

There's a fireplace across from the front desk, hypnotic flames dancing behind the glass and licking at the brown kindling. The room is spacious, warm and inviting, with a gold and white theme.

Jared joins me shortly, followed by a few other cast members. Most of the crew and workers arrived a few days ago to set everything up.

After checking in, Jared and I are introduced to our event manager: a tiny brunette in a pencil skirt and red cardigan, who gives us her contact card and our room keys.

Jared and I have adjacent rooms on the third floor, and Clif and the bellboy tend to the luggage while our manager gives us a tour of the grounds.

We stop by the vendors' room, where bracelets, posters, lanyards and countless other memorabilia are being unloaded on tables. She also gives us matching itineraries, and familiarizes us with the hidden hallways so we can avoid the crowds when getting around.

"There will be food carts placed out during panel breaks," she explains, "as well as room service meals available."

We pass by the elevators and I notice that multiple signs have been put up to direct the crowds that will arrive in a few hours.

"And this room is where the convention will be held." Row after row of chairs are being placed in the giant space we've been led into; people are hustling about with clipboards while workers are steadily building the stage. The speakers blare to life as the sound system is tested. "The green room and ticket station are still being set up by the convention staff."