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

Chapter Twenty-Six

I know drinking is not the answer.

I know I need to put in some serious work on my marriage.

I know that there are a million and one things wrong with me hitting up another club tonight.

But my bag of fucks to give still contains a grand whopping total of zero fucks.

The tension between Dani and I over me bottling up my problems only pushes me to drown my sorrows in a bottle of alcohol. And another...and another.

I'm seeking an escape from the intense flurry of Christmas preparations being undertaken at home. It was going to be perfect. But I guess there won't be any naughty lingerie or bloody fantastic sex with Misha to start off the new year.

Dani seems to be avoiding me as well, spending more and more time down at the clinic. I've stopped telling her to calm down about the babies and give her poor doctor a break. She's been obsessively compulsive like this since the start of her pregnancy.

There's no denying anymore that my marriage is slowly crumbling. There has been no real intimacy between us for weeks, and tension for longer than that as a result of my suppressed feelings for Misha. I could hide it before, but not after having him. Not after being with him, touching him, tasting him, possessing him for a brief, blissfully surreal daydream. There's no going back.

Whatever I do, it isn't enough.

I'm powerless against the chilling truth: since the first transference of intimate touch between our bodies, he's been embedded in my skin. Traces of him remain inside me like a lingering ghost, locked under my skin in permanent remembrance.

That man doesn't even know that he owns me, can undress me, take from me what he desires, do whatever he wants with my body and mind. I gave myself to him, delivered like an offering into his hands: his to obliterate. I'm addicted to that bewitching, celestial beauty of a man, knowing only too well that I'll never get another fix.

I want to satisfy my wife. I want to be a good father. But I'm not whole without him, and the part of me that splintered off with his departure was the part crucial to my ability to love and care for someone else. And he doesn't even realize he has it.

The thought of seeing him again in a month has my insides quaking with a hellish mixture of melancholy and yearning. I want him, I need to stay away from him. I need him, I hate him. He builds me up, he demolishes me. He's my next breath, my poison.

There are no hot, homosexual encounters at the club tonight, which is just as well because nobody is as gorgeous and good in bed as Misha Collins. What he gave me, I can't get from anyone else.

Dani is royally pissed when I call her to come pick me up. She lectures me the entire duration of the ride home. I'm irresponsible, I need to stop drinking so much, I have two newborns and a toddler at home, I don't communicate with her enough, I need to learn to ask for help when I need it, et cetera, et cetera.

Exhausted and completely shitfaced, I sit slumped in the passenger seat, drawing my hands despairingly over my face.

She's right. I don't talk to her anymore. Something's gotta give; either I start communicating my feelings to her more openly or...I have no idea what she'll do.

"This isn't fair to me," she bites out, the lines of her face strained and tense as she grips the steering wheel.

"I know. I'm sorry."