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

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dani's talking, but it's all white noise.

I see her lips open around the shape of the words, watch her twist the wine glass in her fingers, the crimson liquid sloshing lazily, but I can't make out what she's saying.

The waves of the ocean smash against the rocks and soak my ankles in misty spray as I stand on the beach before my wife. She's lying on a blanket in the dark, braced on her right forearm. Talking, between sips of her wine.

There are apologies in there, some accusations, too. But I tune her out, focusing instead on the foamy swell sweeping around my ankles, the feel of the wet, packed sand and the cold surf swirling at the rolled-up cuffs of my pants.

To the average passerby, we look like a couple out for a midnight stroll along the beach, the pale glow of the moon and the lulling tide lending the false pretence of romance and serenity.

But the average passerby doesn't know that I have thirty days to respond to the divorce application Dani obtained from her lawyer.

Her grounds for divorce are legion, my passivity and extended absences from home included, but stem mostly from her desire to start over with this man she loves, who worships the ground she struts on in the way she always dreamed her husband would. The way he should. I know I haven't exactly given her a fairytale marriage, so her affair of almost nine months doesn't faze me.

It's definitely an uncontested divorce, filed on the grounds of adultery. We're both coming completely clean, neither of us wanting to drag out the process unnecessarily.

Dani's sharp bark of my name jolts me out of my thoughts, but I don't think she's surprised to realize I'm not paying attention. She says I never really did.

Dani's talking again, and the rush of icy cold surf sweeping under my feet shields me from the words shooting at my chest like fired bullets.

I don't want to hear it. She's sick of saying it. Why do we bother?

I pull my shirt over my head and slip out of my jeans, turning towards the ocean. Leaving Dani on the beach, I wade into the icy waves, blissfully warm compared to my insides. My heart is barren, a wasteland.

I'm running dangerously low on his love.

The corners of my jaw tighten with an ache that veins upwards through my temples as my arms slice through the foamy swell, legs propelling me forward.

When I was with him, I took his affection for granted. Every time I leaned in for a kiss was another opportunity for him to push me away in the name of doing the right thing. He didn't have to go as far as he did with me. His moral conviction has always been stronger, and I know he wasn't comfortable with the affair between us.

But he did everything he did for me. Now, if I could just hear Misha telling me he loves me one more time, I could die in peace. But after how we left things, I know he'd just as soon stomp my ass into the concrete as look at me.  

Pain coils around my chest and squeezes with a vicelike grip, tightening.

Why didn't I realize sooner how lucky I was? And if I had realized, would I have done things differently? Would I have taken him out for dinner, bought him cute romantic shit, made more time for us to simply talk? Or would I have just kept trying to put my dick in him on a regular basis?