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

Chapter Forty

But I can't. I can't leave his trailer.

Not when he's standing here bathed in the golden glow of dawn, the too-familiar contours of his body outlined so flawlessly by his cobalt blue running gear. I lick my lips, suddenly dry with intense, heartfelt longing. It cripples me, keeps me rooted helplessly to my spot.

"Mish," I try, because I have to. I have to try and try and try again, because, fuck me, I love him so much, and I'll be damned if I don't tell the man I love how much he means to me every chance I get until the day I die. "You know I love you, right?"

Misha's face takes on the same strained, pinched expression he struggles to suppress during excessively flirtatious convention panels, when my advances are relentless and my feelings for him are embarrassingly transparent.

"Yes," Misha smiles, a tight little smile. "Yes, Jensen, I get it." He starts to make his bed, stealing a glance at the wristwatch he's just donned before looking back at me expectantly.

Undone by those piercing baby blues, I shift my weight from foot to foot, struggling to compose my thoughts, my feelings, to frame my next request coherently. It should not be this hard to get a man I've fucked eighty-four trillion times to go out on a simple date with me. But here I am, awkwardly clearing my throat and trying to channel some of Dean's prowess because apparently my game is lacking.

"Well, I need to get going." Misha finally straightens up, having arranged the bed to his liking. Around this time, he normally thanks me for breakfast, but since we're going out this morning with a few of our friends, he's spared having to sample my questionable cooking endeavours.

"Mish," I gripe. Why don't you love me? "I-"

"Jensen, if the next words out of your mouth aren't yes, Misha, I'm going now, then I swear to-"

"No no, wait. Come on, please." I extend my arms in a plea for understanding, for some patience. "This isn't fair. Seriously, you owe me, like, a minute. Just listen, okay?"

Misha cocks an eyebrows but complies, folding his arms irritably across his chest.

"Go out with me," I blurt. "Just do it. I don't think I need to remind you that we've already crossed the line that you're defending so vigorously right now countless times-"

"Okay."

I pause, thrown.

"I-okay," I stammer. "Okay? You'll do it?"

"Yeah, whatever. It's not like it'll mean anything." He shrugs noncommittally. "But since you're so hellbent on the idea...whatever."

I lick my lips again, ears buzzing and pulse kicking up as the relief whips through my veins.

"You won't regret it," I breathe. Then I'm on him, arms cinched tightly around his lithe torso, face buried in the crook of his neck and desperately inhaling him for all I'm worth. My hands slide upwards to find purchase in his hair, lips gliding across the smooth expanse of skin behind his ear, the sweep of his neck, his collarbone, pressing eager butterfly kisses everywhere within reach.

"I'd better not," Misha sniffs sardonically, an inordinate fondness lacing his words that I haven't heard in a long time.

"You won't," I assure him breathlessly. "We can do anything you want. Go anywhere-"