If Jensen is gonna cry … he sure as hell isn’t going to do it in front of all these people.
This isn’t any “single man tear” shit.
This is grown ass adult-too damn tough for this crap-why the hell am I like this, blubbering.
He has to get out of here quick before the waterworks start.
So, he takes his phone, shoves it in his pocket and bolts out of the green room when everyone is otherwise distracted.
Everyone except Misha.
Jensen no sooner shuts his hotel door when there is a knock on it … which really sucks because the second that latch clicked, he went into full infant-mode .
“Not now!” he garbles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Are you okay?”
Misha’s voice makes all his bristles soften. “Yeah … just need a minute.”
“Let me in.”
“Just give me a minute.”
Jensen sighs, knowing that he can either cry his way through another twenty minutes of this, or just let the guy in and kiss his own masculine-posturing goodbye. He takes a few gulping, shaky breaths and shuffles back to the door—cracking it open and peeking through the wet and the hurt to see Misha—all concern and sad smiles.
“Can I come in now?” Misha asks, softer and less demanding than he was a moment ago.
Jensen nods and steps back into the shadows of his unlit hotel room.
He watches as Misha keeps his eyes trained on him—not even looking back to shut the door once he’s through. “It’s stupid” Jensen says with a sigh—face instantly scrunching up with more tears.
“Obviously it isn’t” Misha confirms, stepping forward to wrap Jensen up before he can try to turn and run.
He could still try, but he won’t—so Jensen just lets his face nestle against Misha’s shoulder, trying not to concern himself that his snot is probably soaking into the guy’s shirt—he knows he won’t mind.
“You rushed out of there so quick … and the look on your face. Did something happen?”
Misha’s voice rumbles through him, beating all the tension out of Jensen’s muscles … and his will. “I got a text …” he finally admits, crying even harder just thinking about it.
Misha pulls back and stares at him hard. “What did it say? Are Dani and JJ alright? Do you need to go? I’ll cover for you … whatever you need, just—”
Jensen shakes his head and waves at the man to stop; but Misha’s mouth hangs open with the rest of his words still poised on his tongue. “It’s not …” Jensen sniffles and drags his sleeve under his nose. “It’s nothing like that … it ain’t even bad. I don’t know … I have no fucking idea …” He breaks down again and Misha squeezes his shoulders, ducking a little to keep Jensen eyes focused on his own.
“What is it then?”
With a slight shake of his head, Jensen pulls away so he can fish into his pocket, pulling out the phone and pulling up the last text he had just received from Danneel a few minutes before. His face cracks even more as he looks at it—so he quickly passes it off to Misha.
The man’s eyes scrunch when he takes the phone, staring down at the texted picture with obvious confusion. His expression lightens a moment later—nothing but satin smiles and curling brows. “This …” Misha begins, turning Jensen’s phone back to him, “this is what made you cry?”
Jensen nods reluctantly and takes one more peek at the photo of his daughter—messy hair, still in her pajamas, a big grin crowding her dimpled cheeks as she holds up a scribbled, colorful, crumpled piece of paper saying “I miss you daddy” in capital, half backwards letters.
He breaks down again—broad shoulders heaving with the sight.
Misha’s gentle laugh is a comfort as their arms wrap around each other once more—it solidifies the fact that he is just being silly … but also that his friend isn’t judging him for it.
“You know …” Misha starts, running his hand flat and smooth up and down Jensen’s spine. “This is probably the most adorable thing you’ve ever done.”
Jensen barks out a unexpected laugh, coughing around the tears that are still flowing in spite of it. “Yeah? Looking like a big man-baby really melts your heart, huh?”
Misha chuckles again as he lets Jensen go—stepping away some so he can look him over from watery eyes to quivering chin. With a lesser shake of his head, he quirks up his grin. “No …” he laughs, moving around so he can drape his arm around Jensen’s neck. “Seeing you love someone like you love her, does.”