RPS: Tequila is not to be trusted!
May. 28th, 2009 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
errant_janeOkay, here is the next part of my Misha RPS.
It's kinda hard to write on a tiny computer!
Jensen finds some courage. As it turns out, it's liquid.
***
Jensen is very, very drunk. He is very drunk and in the back of a cab with Misha, who is not as drunk. Misha, as the not-as-drunk one, is making sure that Jensen gets home in one piece, because Misha is a good guy. And because at some point in the night, Jared and Genevieve ditched them. But not before buying Jensen lots and lots of tequila shots.
In conclusion: Drunk.
“Why are you not drunk?” Jensen asks Misha, who is staring idly out the window. Jensen’s okay with this, because it allows him to stare idly at Misha. He thinks that he’s maybe asked this question already, but he doesn’t remember the answer.
Misha glances at him and smiles. “Believe it or not, I am old enough to know better about some things, and one of those things is drinking tequila shots with a couple of Texas boys.”
That smile kind of makes Jensen want to crawl into Misha’s lap and lick him. It is, perhaps, fortunate that he is too drunk to follow through on this instinct. The hold-up is a coordination thing, really. A multi-step process, starting with a seat-belt and Jensen is just not functioning on that level right now.
“Wait. Why are you not drunk?” Jensen asks.
Misha just laughs and says, “Come on, we’re here.”
Huh. Jensen didn’t even know the cab had stopped. He lets Misha sort of manhandle him to the front door. Once they have made it that far, Jensen leans against the wall and waits for his new orders.
“Keys?”
“Hmmm?” Jensen opens his eyes to see Misha standing in front of him with an expectant look.
“Christ,” Misha says, but he seems amused. He starts patting Jensen down until he finds the bulk of his keys in the pocket of his jacket and pulls them out.
Jensen can smell the whiskey on his breath, but he just seems so sober. Before he can remark on it, Misha has turned away to unlock the front door. Which means Jared isn’t home.
Jared’s his best friend ever. “Hey!” Jensen follows Misha into the house. “Jared has a theory.”
“Yeah?” Misha turns on lights and throws Jensen’s keys on the table in the entryway. “I’m sure it’s crackerjack.”
Jensen’s not even sure what that means. “Jared says unicorns want to sleep with me." No, that's not right. He remembers it's something about sex, and unicorns fit in there somehow, he's just not seeing the connection at the moment.
Misha stops halfway to the living room and turns back to Jensen. “Never figured you for the bestiality sort.”
“No, no, no.” Jensen stumbles after Misha into the living room. Where the couches live. Why the fuck can’t he remember Jared’s theory? It is supposed to lead to sex with Misha, he remembers that much.
The problem is, Jared fed him copious amounts of tequila. And maybe a roofie. No, Jensen's pretty sure he was joking about the roofie. It tasted like an Altoid at any rate. Curiously minty.
Jensen shrugs out of his jacket, tosses it in the general direction of the floor and flops down on the couch next to Misha. Misha is still wearing his jacket, one of those fleece-lined jean-jacket things. Jared had teased him about being a mountain man the first day he wore it on set, but in all honesty...
“Christ, you’re hot,” Jensen sighs, leaning his head back and turning it so that he can still stare at Misha through half-lidded eyes.
“Fucking hell, Jensen.” Misha laughs in an unrestrained way that makes Jensen grin. “How much did you drink?”
“Hey. You are still hot when I’m not drunk.” Jensen’s offended.
“Of course,” Misha agrees easily. Jensen can practically see the thought bubble above his head that says, I’m Misha Fucking Collins
“Be that as it may.” Misha turns his body so that he’s sitting half facing Jensen, his arm draped along the back of the couch. He’s still smiling. “I’m pretty sure you’re less gay when you’re sober.”
Before Jensen can come up with a clever response to that, his autopilot kicks in and he snorts and says, “Fat chance.”
Misha tilts his head and just sort of studies Jensen as if he is some sort of peculiar science experiment that Misha has set into motion and he’s waiting to see if his hypothesis is correct.
Jensen motivates himself to move enough to lean forward and grab the edges of Misha’s jacket. He starts to lie back on the couch, pulling Misha down with him. Misha just sort of goes with it, his look of perpetual amusement firmly in place.
Once they’re fully horizontal, Jensen smiles up at Misha, feeling quite pleased with himself. He moves one hand from Misha’s jacket to the back of his neck and pulls him the rest of the way down. Kisses him once, twice. Short and soft, more of an opening gambit than anything else.
He feels Misha’s huff of laughter against his cheek. “Jensen Ackles, aren’t you just full of surprises.”
Jensen hums an agreeing noise and takes a deep breath, his eyes sliding closed. Misha smells faintly of cologne or aftershave under the alcohol. Something musky and warm. Jensen approves.
The room is swaying gently and Jensen is starting to feel quite cozy.
“Man, you are gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” The voice next to his ear is husky-low and amused sounding.
Christ, he’s tired.
***
The best laid plans of Jared Padalecki should probably involve less tequila.
***
Jared comes home to find Jensen passed out fully-clothed on the couch and Misha in the kitchen looking through their cupboards.
“Coffee?” Misha asks by way of a greeting.
“Freezer.”
Misha grunts an acknowledgment and goes about his task. Jared leans against the counter and watches him. Clearly things did not go according to his rather brilliant plan of getting Jensen drunk enough to make a move. That or he did make a move and Misha inexplicably shot him down.
Jared can’t think of a cool way to ask which it was.
Once the coffee has started brewing, Misha turns to Jared and mimics his pose, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “How was your night?” He asks eventually, his tone sounds... mildly curious.
“Fine,” Jared answers. “Yours?”
“Fine. Make it with Genevieve?”
“A gentleman doesn’t answer that sort of question,” Jared says primly.
Misha’s laughter is unpleasant this early in the morning. Especially when Jared is hung-over and they both know the answer to that question is ‘no’.
“What are you even still doing here?”
Misha turns to get a coffee cup out of the cupboard. He pulls down a cup that is rainbow colored from top to bottom, raises an eyebrow and then turns to pour his coffee. That task done, he leans his hips against the counter again, holds his cup in front of him and smiles. “I’m wanted to make sure your bff didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. You bought quite a few rounds last night.”
Jared bristles a little at what he decides is the mildly accusatory tone in Misha’s voice. He also notes that Misha didn’t offer to get him coffee. “Hey, he’s from Texas.” This, of course, means that he can handle himself.
“Be that as it may,” is Misha’s only reply. After that he seems content to sit there and sip at his coffee.
Jared can’t tell if his smile is mocking or simply amused. Either way, it’s incredibly irritating. “Why do you look so fucking smug?”
Misha laughs again. Takes another sip of his coffee.
At this point, Jared starts to wonder if Jensen didn’t use his drunken stupor to tell Misha a bunch of incriminating stories rather than get busy. That, at least, would explain the smile.
“Okay,” Misha says. He sets his cup down and crosses his arm again. “I’m just...thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” Jared is feeling more than a little paranoid now.
“Yeah.” He tilts his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of a game that I joined without the benefit of knowing the rules. You know what I mean?”
Jared nods, not quite sure where this is going.
“Usually it’s fine. I tend to make the rules up as I go along anyway.” He pushes away from the counter and starts to walk out of the room, slapping Jared on the chest as he goes by.
“Wait.” Jared follows him out into the living room, lowers his voice as he glances at Jensen. “That’s it?”
“No,” Misha whispers. “Sometimes you find out you’re actually playing a completely different game.” His smile this time is more a sharp flash of teeth. “Gimme your car keys, I need to go home and shower.” He starts walking towards the entryway and Jared follows him, scowling.
“What if I don’t want to give you my car keys?” Jared knows he sounds petulant. He can’t quite help it.
“I can just hang out here and we can chat. Jensen should be out of it for a few more hours anyway.” He sounds far too cheerful at the prospect.
Jared hands Misha his keys.
“You’re a good boy, Jared.” Misha slaps Jared’s cheek lightly a couple of times. It shouldn’t be as condescending as it is with Misha being that much shorter than him.
“I kind of hate you,” Jared says to Misha’s back.
Misha waves without turning and slams the front door shut.
Jared walks back into the living room. “What the hell happened last night?”
“Oh, God. Please, if you love me at all. Please kill me.” Jensen sounds fairly serious, actually.
“Jensen, come on, man.”
Jensen cracks one bloodshot eye open. “The details are kind of fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure bestiality was mentioned at one point. Honest-to-God, I don’t know if it was by him or me.”
Jared sighs. Leave it to Jensen to fuck up the simplest of plans.
***
I wanted to write Misha POV, but he's not quite ready to show his hand yet. I'm guessing he will be by tomorrow.
ETA: Oh hai, Misha's POV is here!
It's kinda hard to write on a tiny computer!
Jensen finds some courage. As it turns out, it's liquid.
***
Jensen is very, very drunk. He is very drunk and in the back of a cab with Misha, who is not as drunk. Misha, as the not-as-drunk one, is making sure that Jensen gets home in one piece, because Misha is a good guy. And because at some point in the night, Jared and Genevieve ditched them. But not before buying Jensen lots and lots of tequila shots.
In conclusion: Drunk.
“Why are you not drunk?” Jensen asks Misha, who is staring idly out the window. Jensen’s okay with this, because it allows him to stare idly at Misha. He thinks that he’s maybe asked this question already, but he doesn’t remember the answer.
Misha glances at him and smiles. “Believe it or not, I am old enough to know better about some things, and one of those things is drinking tequila shots with a couple of Texas boys.”
That smile kind of makes Jensen want to crawl into Misha’s lap and lick him. It is, perhaps, fortunate that he is too drunk to follow through on this instinct. The hold-up is a coordination thing, really. A multi-step process, starting with a seat-belt and Jensen is just not functioning on that level right now.
“Wait. Why are you not drunk?” Jensen asks.
Misha just laughs and says, “Come on, we’re here.”
Huh. Jensen didn’t even know the cab had stopped. He lets Misha sort of manhandle him to the front door. Once they have made it that far, Jensen leans against the wall and waits for his new orders.
“Keys?”
“Hmmm?” Jensen opens his eyes to see Misha standing in front of him with an expectant look.
“Christ,” Misha says, but he seems amused. He starts patting Jensen down until he finds the bulk of his keys in the pocket of his jacket and pulls them out.
Jensen can smell the whiskey on his breath, but he just seems so sober. Before he can remark on it, Misha has turned away to unlock the front door. Which means Jared isn’t home.
Jared’s his best friend ever. “Hey!” Jensen follows Misha into the house. “Jared has a theory.”
“Yeah?” Misha turns on lights and throws Jensen’s keys on the table in the entryway. “I’m sure it’s crackerjack.”
Jensen’s not even sure what that means. “Jared says unicorns want to sleep with me." No, that's not right. He remembers it's something about sex, and unicorns fit in there somehow, he's just not seeing the connection at the moment.
Misha stops halfway to the living room and turns back to Jensen. “Never figured you for the bestiality sort.”
“No, no, no.” Jensen stumbles after Misha into the living room. Where the couches live. Why the fuck can’t he remember Jared’s theory? It is supposed to lead to sex with Misha, he remembers that much.
The problem is, Jared fed him copious amounts of tequila. And maybe a roofie. No, Jensen's pretty sure he was joking about the roofie. It tasted like an Altoid at any rate. Curiously minty.
Jensen shrugs out of his jacket, tosses it in the general direction of the floor and flops down on the couch next to Misha. Misha is still wearing his jacket, one of those fleece-lined jean-jacket things. Jared had teased him about being a mountain man the first day he wore it on set, but in all honesty...
“Christ, you’re hot,” Jensen sighs, leaning his head back and turning it so that he can still stare at Misha through half-lidded eyes.
“Fucking hell, Jensen.” Misha laughs in an unrestrained way that makes Jensen grin. “How much did you drink?”
“Hey. You are still hot when I’m not drunk.” Jensen’s offended.
“Of course,” Misha agrees easily. Jensen can practically see the thought bubble above his head that says, I’m Misha Fucking Collins
“Be that as it may.” Misha turns his body so that he’s sitting half facing Jensen, his arm draped along the back of the couch. He’s still smiling. “I’m pretty sure you’re less gay when you’re sober.”
Before Jensen can come up with a clever response to that, his autopilot kicks in and he snorts and says, “Fat chance.”
Misha tilts his head and just sort of studies Jensen as if he is some sort of peculiar science experiment that Misha has set into motion and he’s waiting to see if his hypothesis is correct.
Jensen motivates himself to move enough to lean forward and grab the edges of Misha’s jacket. He starts to lie back on the couch, pulling Misha down with him. Misha just sort of goes with it, his look of perpetual amusement firmly in place.
Once they’re fully horizontal, Jensen smiles up at Misha, feeling quite pleased with himself. He moves one hand from Misha’s jacket to the back of his neck and pulls him the rest of the way down. Kisses him once, twice. Short and soft, more of an opening gambit than anything else.
He feels Misha’s huff of laughter against his cheek. “Jensen Ackles, aren’t you just full of surprises.”
Jensen hums an agreeing noise and takes a deep breath, his eyes sliding closed. Misha smells faintly of cologne or aftershave under the alcohol. Something musky and warm. Jensen approves.
The room is swaying gently and Jensen is starting to feel quite cozy.
“Man, you are gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” The voice next to his ear is husky-low and amused sounding.
Christ, he’s tired.
***
The best laid plans of Jared Padalecki should probably involve less tequila.
***
Jared comes home to find Jensen passed out fully-clothed on the couch and Misha in the kitchen looking through their cupboards.
“Coffee?” Misha asks by way of a greeting.
“Freezer.”
Misha grunts an acknowledgment and goes about his task. Jared leans against the counter and watches him. Clearly things did not go according to his rather brilliant plan of getting Jensen drunk enough to make a move. That or he did make a move and Misha inexplicably shot him down.
Jared can’t think of a cool way to ask which it was.
Once the coffee has started brewing, Misha turns to Jared and mimics his pose, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “How was your night?” He asks eventually, his tone sounds... mildly curious.
“Fine,” Jared answers. “Yours?”
“Fine. Make it with Genevieve?”
“A gentleman doesn’t answer that sort of question,” Jared says primly.
Misha’s laughter is unpleasant this early in the morning. Especially when Jared is hung-over and they both know the answer to that question is ‘no’.
“What are you even still doing here?”
Misha turns to get a coffee cup out of the cupboard. He pulls down a cup that is rainbow colored from top to bottom, raises an eyebrow and then turns to pour his coffee. That task done, he leans his hips against the counter again, holds his cup in front of him and smiles. “I’m wanted to make sure your bff didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. You bought quite a few rounds last night.”
Jared bristles a little at what he decides is the mildly accusatory tone in Misha’s voice. He also notes that Misha didn’t offer to get him coffee. “Hey, he’s from Texas.” This, of course, means that he can handle himself.
“Be that as it may,” is Misha’s only reply. After that he seems content to sit there and sip at his coffee.
Jared can’t tell if his smile is mocking or simply amused. Either way, it’s incredibly irritating. “Why do you look so fucking smug?”
Misha laughs again. Takes another sip of his coffee.
At this point, Jared starts to wonder if Jensen didn’t use his drunken stupor to tell Misha a bunch of incriminating stories rather than get busy. That, at least, would explain the smile.
“Okay,” Misha says. He sets his cup down and crosses his arm again. “I’m just...thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” Jared is feeling more than a little paranoid now.
“Yeah.” He tilts his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of a game that I joined without the benefit of knowing the rules. You know what I mean?”
Jared nods, not quite sure where this is going.
“Usually it’s fine. I tend to make the rules up as I go along anyway.” He pushes away from the counter and starts to walk out of the room, slapping Jared on the chest as he goes by.
“Wait.” Jared follows him out into the living room, lowers his voice as he glances at Jensen. “That’s it?”
“No,” Misha whispers. “Sometimes you find out you’re actually playing a completely different game.” His smile this time is more a sharp flash of teeth. “Gimme your car keys, I need to go home and shower.” He starts walking towards the entryway and Jared follows him, scowling.
“What if I don’t want to give you my car keys?” Jared knows he sounds petulant. He can’t quite help it.
“I can just hang out here and we can chat. Jensen should be out of it for a few more hours anyway.” He sounds far too cheerful at the prospect.
Jared hands Misha his keys.
“You’re a good boy, Jared.” Misha slaps Jared’s cheek lightly a couple of times. It shouldn’t be as condescending as it is with Misha being that much shorter than him.
“I kind of hate you,” Jared says to Misha’s back.
Misha waves without turning and slams the front door shut.
Jared walks back into the living room. “What the hell happened last night?”
“Oh, God. Please, if you love me at all. Please kill me.” Jensen sounds fairly serious, actually.
“Jensen, come on, man.”
Jensen cracks one bloodshot eye open. “The details are kind of fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure bestiality was mentioned at one point. Honest-to-God, I don’t know if it was by him or me.”
Jared sighs. Leave it to Jensen to fuck up the simplest of plans.
***
I wanted to write Misha POV, but he's not quite ready to show his hand yet. I'm guessing he will be by tomorrow.
ETA: Oh hai, Misha's POV is here!
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Date: 2009-05-31 10:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 03:51 pm (UTC)