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

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I hear Jared swallow uneasily over the swishing of the windshield wipers whipping back and forth across the window.

"Divorce is a big decision," he stresses. "Take some time to think about this, talk it out with Dani, run through your options..."

I nod numbly, biting my lip. But the process would take anywhere from three months to two years; there certainly won't be any rushing of things either way.

"Yeah, I know... Thanks, man. For being here for me right now...for, um, you know. Everything."

"Hey, dude, it's no problem," he assures me earnestly. "I told you you could tell me anything. I want to help, however I can."

"You can hold a candlelight vigil for me once all this crap finally kills me," I chuckle humourlessly.

"Hey, no," Jared says firmly. "Don't think like that. Envision the best possible scenario and focus on that."

"Okay," I mumble, a faint smile tugging the corners of my mouth. "Um...the best scenario involves Misha, obviously." The small quirk lifts into a broad, downright gooey gaze as I play along. "Marrying me. Um, and a wedding cake - there'll be a wedding cake with marshmallows that nobody will guilt-trip me for eating."

What I neglect to mention is how I'd burn off the calories from said marshmallows: long, intense man-on-man action that would rival the most brutal CrossFit workout, so awesome Misha and I would be leaving the bed in wheelchairs.

The concept of marriage to that man is exhilarating. It would take some getting used to, living with him. When you're the only man in the house, things are a certain type of way; all eyes turn to you when a spider is found that needs to be killed, you get harped on daily about leaving the toilet seat up, and so on. But two men living together sounds...easier, somehow. Simpler.

There's no guesswork with two men pleasuring each other. The equipment is the same, and familiar plumbing makes things less awkward, less frustrating and more satisfying. Especially because Misha and I were never shy when it came to communicating what we wanted from the other. So we'd be the couple sitting at the dinner table, eating one moment, and fucking each other on it the next, just because we'd feel like it.

If I die from a heart attack, it'll be the sex and not the burgers that kill me. He can put that on my tombstone.

"And his ass will look fantastic in his suit," I list off. "And then we'll go on a honeymoon, in-"

"-Russia," Jared supplies knowingly, "so you can see Misha sink and shrivel with patriotism for the motherland. Yeah, dude," he snorts. "We know. Thanks to all of the gushing you do at cons, everyone knows you're into some weird kinks."

"Okay, that's partly you," I grouse. "You're always making it worse-"

"Maybe, but you're the one walking into it, every time," he chuckles. "Remember the crab trap story about you and Misha at MinnCon? You didn't even try to deny anything. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize...you've always gone along with the innuendoes and insinuations, all giggly and shy and shit. Which was weird. For a straight guy." He snorts. "Now I know why you weren't more upset."

Um, yeah, because I had to cover my crotch with my hand the whole time the insinuation got me so excited.

"A straight guy would've gotten all offended - like, uptight and shit - but, damn, you were all dopey, gummy smiles. I mean, you can be so cold, like - frigid - to people, you know, even at cons and stuff, but Misha can make your rude ass dissolve into a fit of hysterics just by existing."