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DANNEEL
Convention green rooms were like transit lounges at airports. The room was either full to brimming as people hurried in and out on their way between staged activities, or dead as a dodo between the flurries. Right now the green room was as quiet as a church during a funeral service and Dee was bored. Pretty much everyone was on stage, taking photos, signing autos or, in a couple of cases, sneaking out back for an illicit smoke. Only ten people were in the room.
Opposite her, over the far side of the room near the door and separated from her by a couple of coffee tables and the most hideous rug she’d ever seen, Jared sat on a couch the mirror of hers reading his script for the next day. His mouth moved as he practiced the words silently. Every now and again he scribbled something on the page. Next to him was Rob, huge headphones over his ears, his eyes closed, and his foot tapping in time to music only he could hear. Behind them was a huddle of four in murmured conversation, then two others browsing at the snack table. Then came Misha sitting alone on a third couch, politely, but firmly, not letting anyone take up the empty seat next to him. You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out who that seat was for. He looked up hopefully every time the door opened to bring someone new into the room.
Dee had already spent time with every one of them, and everyone else she wanted to, or was obliged to, talk to. She restlessly rapped her fingers on the arm of the couch.
The door opened. Misha looked up, hopefully. It was Gen. A relief for Dee who at least had someone to talk to, but not the person Misha was waiting for. Disappointed, but trying not to look it, he looked away again.
Dee stifled a smile. Poor lovesick puppy.
Gen grabbed a couple of glasses of water and went over and sat next to Dee passing her one of the glasses.
“I take it Jensen’s due,” Gen whispered.
“Yeah.” Dee nodded. “How’d you guess?”
“I have no idea what gave it away, none at all.”
The women hid their laughs in their glasses of water. Bubbles frothed around Dee’s mouth.
On cue, Jensen strode in, heavy-footed, and full of energy, hyped from a run of photo ops and eagerly scanning the room.
“It’s like a morgue in here,” Jensen said loudly. “Jeez.”
Misha looked up, and smiled.
Jensen ruffled Jared’s hair, smiled back at Misha and wiggled his fingers at him, making a “two-minutes” hand signal, then smiled at Dee and Gen and walked over. He planted a kiss on the top of Dee’s head.
“How’d it go?” Dee asked.
“Good. Good,” Jensen said. “Someone brought a bowl of cockles shells as a prop. I swear some of them were still alive.” He shuddered.
Dee and Gen laughed. Well, it was more of a giggle though Dee would never admit that. She didn’t giggle.
“I had Chris take a photo.” Jensen pulled his phone out of his pocket to show them. The photo showed him standing there, holding the bowl of cockles against his chest with one arm, and a lone cockle in his free hand. Jensen was looking longingly at the cockle with his tongue stretching out to try and touch it with the tip. Dee choked back what would have been a very unladylike guffaw.
“Tasteful,” she said.
“Subtle,” Gen added.
“I’m going to show Misha,” Jensen said, looking over his shoulder to where Misha waited patiently.
“Well, what are you wasting time here for?” Dee said and she waved Jensen away. She was getting a whole week of Jensen after this con. Misha was entitled to every fifteen minutes he could grab.
She watched fondly as Jensen crossed to Misha and sat down beside him, right up against him so they touched from shoulder to knee. She was soft mush when it came to Jensen and Misha. Misha looked pointedly at the large amount of couch space left on Jensen’s other side but not surprisingly Jensen ignored him. Looking at Misha critically, Jensen patted down a wayward tuft of hair on his head. Misha swatted him away. Unfazed, Jensen wrapped an arm around Misha’s shoulders, pulling him in briefly to press a kiss to his cheek, then he pulled up his phone, showing Misha the picture that had so taken his fancy. Misha laughed and dropped his head sideways to lean into Jensen.
Aww.
“Did you know,” she said to Gen, “Jensen thinks Jared doesn’t know that he and Misha are more than just friends.”
Gen tapped her on the arm and directed her attention toward Jared, who was also watching Jensen and Misha. Jared was shaking his head and laughing softly to himself as if enjoying a private joke.
“He doesn’t,” she said in a whisper.
Dee looked at Gen, eyes wide. “You’re kidding?”
Gen shook her head, no.
“How can he not know when they … they … well, when they carry on like that.” She nodded towards them to make her point. Jensen currently had his face buried into Misha’s neck.
“I don’t know but I swear to you he doesn’t.”
Dee shook her head. “He must do,” she said. “Can he really be that obtuse? I mean even for Jared, that’s pushing it.”
“Have you ever talked to him about it?” Gen challenged.
“Jared?” Dee hesitated. “Well, no,” she said, pausing to think back. “I don’t think so. Not in so many words anyway. But I just assumed.”
“Assume makes an ass of you and — “
“Yeah, yeah. Of you and me. I know.”
The door opened again and the new girl helping Chris out at the con (Casey? Lacey?) walked in. She was carrying Jensen’s red scarf. He must have left it in the photo op room and Dee made a move to offer to take it but Gen held her back.
“Shh. Don’t spoil the fun. New blood.”
Spotting Jensen on the couch with Misha, the girl confidently took a couple of steps towards them, but then she frowned and Dee could see the doubt creeping in. The girl came to a faltering stop a few steps later. By this time Jensen had hung one leg over Misha’s thighs, had him trapped in a two-arm embrace, and was all but making out with him. The girl’s mouth opened and closed a few times and uncertainty was plain on her face.
“This is painful. We should help her out,” Dee said, but she could barely contain her smile when the poor girl turned and fled.
She turned to Gen. “See. A complete stranger can work it out in five seconds flat. There’s just no way Jared doesn’t know.”
JENSEN
Jensen had just finished a run of photo ops and it had been enjoyable but he was exhausted. He was looking forward to an hour chilling in the green room with a beer, not to mention he was starving, not to mention Misha.
That fan with the bowl of cockles was flirty and fun and she had been thrilled when Jensen had asked if he could borrow her bowl of cockles for a personal photo. God knew what stories were circulating on the internet by now. There had been a time when such an unsubtle hint as a bowl of shellfish would have worried him but at some point he’d stopped worrying and started enjoying himself.
Now he and Misha would flirt as much as they liked and the fans might like to think that what they saw was real but they would never know for certain. And Jared was freaking awesome. If only he knew how much he’d helped them out, encouraging the fan’s theories with his digs and jokes about them being a couple. It only worked because Jared himself was completely oblivious. Jensen knew that when Jared eventually caught on (something Jensen was determined would happen one day), he’d stop doing it for fear of “outing” them. Jensen wasn’t sure whether he was happy or sad about that.
“It’s like a morgue in here. Jeez,” Jensen said loudly, marching into the quiet of the green room. A sea of startled faces turned to look at him.
He scanned the room quickly to see who was where. He spied Dee and Gen on a couch against the far wall. Jared was sitting nearby with a script in his hand, liberal sprinklings of red pen visible here and there, and a smile on his face like he’d been looking for an excuse to stop reading. Misha was sitting on his own, keeping a space that could only be for Jensen beside him on the couch, looking at him with a soft, pleased smile on his face.
Jensen returned the smile and gave him a small hand gesture that meant “I’ll be there in a minute, babe,” then he turned to smile at Dee and Gen and crossed the room, annoying Jared on the way by ruffling his hair.
“Dick,” Jared muttered under his breath as Jensen walked past.
He kissed Dee on the top of her head.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Good. Good,” he said. “Someone brought a bowl of cockles shells as a prop.”
Both girls giggled. Jensen was definitely going to rib Dee about that giggle later. According to her, she never giggled.
“I had Chris take another photo,” Jensen said and pulling out his phone he showed them the photo.
“Tasteful.”
“Subtle.”
“I’m going to show Misha,” he said.
“Well, what are you wasting time here for?” Dee said in good humor and she waved Jensen away.
Jensen crossed to Misha and sat down beside him, lining himself up right alongside him, touching him from ankle to shoulder, feeling his warmth, smelling his cinnamon shampoo.
Misha pointedly looked past him at the large amount of couch space left on Jensen’s other side. Jensen ignored him, as he was pretty sure he was supposed to. He pulled back slightly and looked at Misha critically, then licked his fingers and attempted to pat down a wayward tuft of hair on Misha’s head. Misha swatted him away.
“Get off,” he grumbled.
Jensen wrapped an arm around Misha’s shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. He showed him the photo and Misha laughed quietly. Misha leant his head sideways to rest against Jensen’s. Jensen turned and nuzzled into Misha’s neck.
“We’re in public, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Misha said.
“Jared’s watching.”
“So you’re still on this crusade to get Jared to notice us?”
It wasn’t as if Jensen hadn’t tried telling Jared about him and Misha more than a few times over the years because it felt weird that Jared didn’t know when everyone else in their inner circle knew, but every time he’d tried, Jared had assumed he was trying to wind him up and had laughed it off. Now he was just trying to show him.
“Mmmhmm,” Jensen mumbled against Misha’s skin.
“Maybe he already knows. After all, you do molest me at every chance you get. I find it hard to believe he has no idea what’s really going on here.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t know,” Jensen said, pulling his head back just far enough to make his words intelligible.
“Maybe he’s pulling the longest long-con prank in history. He’s got to know. He’s seen far worse than this. He’s walked in on us in bed together, for God’s sake.”
“Yeah, but we were asleep. That doesn’t count. Now if I’d been blowing you …“ Jensen paused while he thought about that.
“Stop it. I know you’re actually thinking about that,” Misha said.
“What about this then?” Jensen said. He hooked his leg over Misha’s thighs and raised his other arm to lock Misha into a two-armed embrace. Then he buried his head back into the crook of Misha’s neck because truth be told, he kinda liked it there, and trying to get through to Jared was a convenient excuse. “Is he still looking?”
Misha elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow.”
“Yes. But more importantly I think we just scared Casey.”
“Casey?”
“Chris’s new assistant.”
“Oh.” Jensen reluctantly untangled himself from around Misha’s body. “She’s going to have to get used to it if she’s going to stick around.”
JARED
Jensen breezed in, breaking into the room’s quiet atmosphere like a tsunami washed through it. To be honest, Jared was damned grateful for the break from running through his lines. How many nuances can “Really, Dean?” have for God’s sake. A lot apparently.
“It’s like a morgue in here,” Jensen said loudly. “Jeez.”
Jared grinned and rested his script on his knee. Jensen walked behind him and ruffled his hair.
“Hey!” he said, then “Dick,” under his breath, running his fingers through his hair to put it all back into place.
Jared watched Jensen cross the room to Gen and Dee. He knew where he’d end up though. Jensen held a brief conversation with Gen and Dee. They all laughed at something on Jensen’s phone. Then Jensen walked over to Misha, planting himself on the couch next to him so close that not even a mouse could find a gap to squeeze through. So predictable.
Jensen threw an arm around Misha’s shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek. He showed Misha something on his phone and Misha laughed softly. Then Misha did that head-boop thing they do, because of course he did.
And then Jensen was shoving his face into Misha’s neck, flinging a leg over Misha’s thighs, and locking Misha into a two-armed embrace.
Jared laughed fondly at them and shook his head. Every time Jared started to think maybe, just maybe, they might actually really be a thing, Jensen always took it three steps too far.
The door opened again and Chris’s new assistant came into the room carrying Jensen’s red scarf. Lacey? Tracey? Casey? Something like that. Nice girl. Jared watched her as she took a couple of steps toward Jensen and Misha, then hesitated and stopped in uncertainty. Jared didn’t blame her. They looked as if they were making out on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.
It’s not like Jared couldn’t see why people got the wrong idea about Jensen and Misha but if the rumors were true he was pretty sure Jensen would have told him by now. Or at least dropped a hint. Wouldn’t he?