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

Epilogue

No, no, no, no, no, no, I want to bellow just as Misha calls 'cut', feeling that telltale uptick in my pulse and a vein jump somewhere in my flushed neck. Fuck no. That's not a goddamn kiss, you two, that's a salivary tickle session - but that's not how we do things around here, so instead I grunt out a strained, "get off the stage, please."

The second A.D. standing off to my right snickers and the pair of actors shrivel under my glare - good. This is take forty-fucking-three and I'm about to pull my hair out. "Baby." I stand up out of my director's chair and beckon to Misha with a swooping gesture of my arm. He looks just as exhausted as I feel, following me onto the stage and displacing the actors to hit their mark. When the slate drops in front of us, Misha and I demonstrate how it's supposed to be done. In one take.

Also, we are so making out in the utility closet during our next ten. 

I smack him hard on the ass afterwards, and the actors are called back to their places - they still have to look down at the floor to find their mark - grumbling sorry excuses under their breath. Such as: "Jensen just wanted an excuse to touch M-"

"Guys, you're mic'd; I can hear everything you're saying up there," I gruff. "So why don't you stop talking about my husband's ass and get yours in gear?"

We try another take with Misha and I watching on headset, and I try to figure out what our problem is. They lack a certain something - chemistry, probably - in their interactions. I can't help but compare them to Misha and I.

Standing across from him in that barn all those years ago, under the scrutiny of electric blue eyes, my lips started feeling dry for the first time in probably my whole life. I remember Steve Boyum actually pulling me aside for a talk after one of my early scenes with Misha, awkwardly asking if I needed Chapstick or could otherwise stop scanning my coworker's face and licking my lips so damn much. I got super flustered - directors only leave their screen between takes if one of us seriously fucked up - and I apologized and told him I was just distracted. My mind proceeded to chant a litany of don't stare at Misha's lips don't stare at Misha's lips don't stare at Misha's lips from that day on. After we shot the barn scene in season four, I watched the dailies with Kim and some of the others. He told me Misha and I had chemistry. Then he turned to me with this knowing look in his eyes, so loaded with meaning and exhortation that it triggered in me the biggest gay freakout imaginable. We lost Kim Manners not long after that. I never got a chance to ask him about it, but I know now what that look meant.

"Cut," Misha sighs five minutes later. "Lights, do we have a misplaced gobo on the right? Their faces don't look right."

Then - bingo. I got it. A few adjustments later I'm sitting back down again, and the take turns out decent.

"Okay, that's good. We need another shot of that." I grab one of the cameramen standing nearby and position him where I want him. We run it a few more times with this angle and finally finish the coverage at noon. I know most of the scenes will be scrapped in the editing room. Or end up in the bloopers, which at this point consist mostly of the cast and crew's shitty phone shots of Misha and I sucking face in the front row of directors' chairs during breaks. Or me pushing Misha into bathrooms and empty grip trucks to make out between takes. 

"Five minutes to stage three, you two," the first A.D. calls out, "and change of pace from what's written on the call sheet. We're starting with scene eight instead of scene four."

As the actors disperse and the crew begins to take everything down, I flip to the front page of the script, thumbing over the stapled edge. Directors: Jensen Collins-Ackles, Misha Collins-Ackles. I smile at the sight. I love my job, I really do. Continuing with the Supernatural franchise after the long-running CW drama series ended is something I've aspired to do for many years now.