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

Chapter Fourteen

Soft light pierces the veil of darkness blanketing me in delicious, soporific blindness.

My eyes flicker open, pupils contracting in the invasive brightness. Shielding my eyes, I pan around the room - Misha's hotel room - and remember that I skipped dinner with the crew last night.

And the fact that I skipped dinner last night has everything to do with a certain sex angel named Mish.

I damn near melt just thinking about how we spent the evening instead: bodies snaking together under the sheets in a primal search of pleasure; becoming one giant slippery mass submerged in the bubbly, jet-driven hot water of the jacuzzi; Misha traipsing around my room afterwards in an old Cowboys jersey of mine that falls just above his knees and nothing else; how tightly he held me in his sleep...

I peer down at our bodies, glued together under the blankets, sunlight pooling on our naked torsos. Misha's curled himself into me, head snuggled on my chest and a small puddle of drool collecting between my pecs. His hair is a wild fluff of dark brown under my chin, strands sticking up every which way, his plump lips just begging to be kissed and nibbled again.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I smile and rub his bare back in small, soothing circles. I can't bring myself to wake him; instead, I hook my leg around his waist and cling to him even tighter.

A quick glance at the bedside clock confirms that we have time. And Clif can square up if he's going to interrogate me on my whereabouts.

I kiss Misha's head over and over again, running my right hand through his hair and getting it intolerably messy - even more so than usual. The crew will chalk it up to bedhead, but I'll know better.

He exhales, mumbling out a rush of nonsense, and then goes completely still. A minute later, he does the cutest thing ever: his hand shoots out and experimentally fists and squeezes the arm I've wrapped around him, testing it, and then it flops uselessly down as he allows the reassurance of my presence to lull him back to sleep.

I smooth my hand down his neck, between his shoulder blades, across the smooth expanse of his bony back. I debate going back to sleep myself, but no way in hell am I going to miss a chance to hold him like this, especially after being deprived of him for a whole week.

I spread soft kisses on his forehead, contemplating how Misha is way too hot to be legal. And too cute, for that matter, too perfect-

Misha shifts slightly on top of me, and then his lashes start fluttering at a mile a minute and his nose twitches as he stares unseeingly at my bicep. He's awake.

Wordlessly, he cups my right hand and rubs it against his face for a lazy minute before pressing soft kisses to my fingers.

His lips dwell on my ring finger, softly sucking at the metal, reminding me of the promise it represents.

Then he's peering up at me, stabbing into my heart with his beaming, spellbinding smile, and I'm overwhelmed with the sheer disbelief that anyone so beautiful can even exist.

Pangs of affection sweep through me from my toes to my fingertips. Fuck, I love him so deeply it's beyond even my own comprehension.

I need him so badly my bones shake when I think about the terrifying low of going back downstairs to the convention centre and spending the day apart from him.