I can practically see Misha being a little shit and teasing the hell out of Jensen like, "Wow, you really know how to nail a story, don't you? Why ever pussyfoot around a crap trap when we could skip to good bits and be all clear on the fact that I stripped down."
“Well, what did you want me to do, Mish … walk them through the entire thing?” Jensen huffs, leaning on the armrest of the couch.
Misha can’t help but grin, even as he’s rolling his eyes and tossing his hands into the air. “A good storyteller would normally summarize the whole thing, yes … not just skip ahead to a part that wasn’t even the main focus.”
“It was my main focus.”
“Obviously … you realize what people are going to think now, don’t you?”
Jensen shrugs, still maintaining a straight face, something that Misha envies to no end. “What they always think, I guess.”
“Exactly!” Misha chirps, practically hopping at the man who is the epitome of cool and collected.
Jensen just arches a brow his way, finally pulling himself up to his feet. “Well … it ain’t like they’re wrong.” Misha is soon being wrapped up in Jensen’s arms, quickly losing hold of the reigns he once had on this whole thing.
“Why are you so care-free now, but as soon as someone asks you about this shit on stage, you turn into a giggling girl with a crush?”
Jensen’s composure cracks ever so slightly, a small twitch to his lips. “Because now, I don’t have to hide anything.” He leans in close to draw the other man in for a kiss– blue eyes fluttering closed before the connection finally breaks among heavy breaths and trembling fingers.
Misha smiles, deciding that he’s probably not going to get anywhere with this subject, so he’ll try to get somewhere else with the help of his tongue. Soon, he’s bending down, pressing kisses and bites all along Jensen’s neck, still chuckling to himself over the man’s screwed up sense of secrecy. “Not like you were really hiding anything then either” Misha mumbles into Jensen’s throat, always needing to have the last word– even if he’s lost the war.
“What?” Jensen asks, breathless and hot– no longer the epitome of anything but a mess.