jackles

Jensen had to physically press his lips together to keep himself from smiling like an idiot at the way Misha scrunched his nose and did with his eyebrow that actually shouldn’t be legal in any country, really. But then the look on Misha’s face was back and Jensen knew it was bad. Of course it would be some waitress at a restaurant that Jensen hadn’t even looked at the nametag for.

“Jen, I..” Misha paused, he felt so selfish. “I didn’t mean to..” He was at a loss of words, but.. then he was intrigued. “Make it.. up to me?” He felt his eyes widen, felt his brows both lift and arch, and felt his lower lip puff out slightly with his curiosity. “And.. what is that?” He was trying to hide the excitement he had by using one of his Castiel-tones, awkward and questioning, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, lifted slightly, and his eyes betrayed him with their curious luminescence, and his body betrayed him how it shifted with impatience.

And there was the Misha Jensen knew. He could see Misha's fidgeting, despite the man's attempts to hide it. Jensen took another sip of his wine, taking his sweet time. Misha was right, there probably wasn't much that he wouldn't let Jensen do, and Jensen, albeit more or less the same, knew he'd always let Misha try something at least once.

There was bile rising in his throat at this thing doing this to Misha (what had Misha done besides be stupid enough to take this part?) and suddenly Levianthan-not-Misha was reaching out, but his heart was pounding in his ears too much to really do much of anything. Jensen yelled out, cursing at his knees buckling and the pain in his arm that was so intense, he could feel the breath being knocked out of him.

Misha was trying to fight inside, but he knew exactly how his character had felt now. This was incredibly painful and it felt like he was being pulled apart on the inside, long, black tendrils coiling around his throat and icey fingers tearing at his limbs. 

His first thought was that this was definitely different from being stabbed by a fake knife or a prop. The thought that immediately followed and threw the first thought away was pain. Blinding pain that wasn't close to anything he could remember feeling and maybe he had screamed somewhere in there, but he couldn't tell at this point. Jensen gasped and choked, trying to remember how to get air in and out of his lungs.

“Thats why you play Dean so well.” Misha snarked, his lips lifting into a little smirk, but it dropped quickly. He tilted his head up, eyes meeting. His brows pulled together. He would have stumbled over his words, but he found an outlet in clearing his throat and cupping his hand over his mouth as he did so, before allowing it to fall back into his own lap. 

“So what does it mean if you play an angel?” he asked, not giving Misha the chance to close up and shrug off any conversation, no matter how much he wanted to. Jensen stared at Misha, deciding he didn’t very much like this quieter, more closed off version.

Misha scrunched his nose and quirked his brow at Jensen as he questioned what it meant if he played Castiel, an angel. He would have retorted with a witty comment but that ability felt drained for the moment, and it was not restored as Jensen spoke again. His lips twitched as he watched the ruby liquid move in the glass as it was sliding towards him. He paused before letting out a sigh and gently, tenderly wrapping his hands around the fragile glass. He lifted it to his lips and took a moderate sip, setting it down lightly on the table.

Jensen had to physically press his lips together to keep himself from smiling like an idiot at the way Misha scrunched his nose and did with his eyebrow that actually shouldn't be legal in any country, really. But then the look on Misha's face was back and Jensen knew it was bad. Of course it would be some waitress at a restaurant that Jensen hadn't even looked at the nametag for.

Jensen’s first thought involved some screaming and general denying that any of this was happening. He was, after all, a realist. But, no. No, no, this seemed real and even then, what if it was one of those dream deals where if you die in the dream, you die in real life? Not on his list of things to do. This…thing, the only word Jensen could really come up with because while it had Misha’s facial structure and hair and clothes, this creature was possibly the furthest thing from Misha Jensen had ever seen.

“We.. can smell.. you..”

There was bile rising in his throat at this thing doing this to Misha (what had Misha done besides be stupid enough to take this part?) and suddenly Levianthan-not-Misha was reaching out, but his heart was pounding in his ears too much to really do much of anything. Jensen yelled out, cursing at his knees buckling and the pain in his arm that was so intense, he could feel the breath being knocked out of him.

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes slightly at Misha in thought as the other man stared at Jensen, a palpable silence between them. Then, Misha looked down and spoke, saying a minimal sentence. Jensen gave a little scoff at the statement. “That’s nothin’ new, really, but so are you. Which makes things work out awesomely, remember?” Jensen said, regarding Misha carefully.

“Thats why you play Dean so well.” Misha snarked, his lips lifting into a little smirk, but it dropped quickly. He tilted his head up, eyes meeting. His brows pulled together. He would have stumbled over his words, but he found an outlet in clearing his throat and cupping his hand over his mouth as he did so, before allowing it to fall back into his own lap. 

"So what does it mean if you play an angel?" he asked, not giving Misha the chance to close up and shrug off any conversation, no matter how much he wanted to. Jensen stared at Misha, deciding he didn't very much like this quieter, more closed off version.

There was something weird going on. Maybe it was all those years of working on a show where weird stuff happened every day—oh hey, today we’re going to make it look like you cut this person’s head off, welcome to work—or maybe it was the weird things that were going on with that website on his computer (which was just bad dreams and a liiiittle too much to drink, obviously), but his gut was telling him that something was off.

“We do not remember this name.”

Jensen's first thought involved some screaming and general denying that any of this was happening. He was, after all, a realist. But, no. No, no, this seemed real and even then, what if it was one of those dream deals where if you die in the dream, you die in real life? Not on his list of things to do. This...thing, the only word Jensen could really come up with because while it had Misha's facial structure and hair and clothes, this creature was possibly the furthest thing from Misha Jensen had ever seen.

He had to keep himself from grinning like an idiot or bursting out laughing at Misha’s suggestion of Jensen passing the time and he instead threw the waitress a “no, thank you”, glancing towards Misha and noting the expression on his face. Now, Jensen wasn’t incredibly skilled at reading people, but he was good enough and Misha was an open book with him.

Misha was startled out of his jealous haze when Jensen leaned in and spoke ever so quietly, so.. mockingly, it seemed. His gaze slowly shifted to meet the others eyes. “I am aware of what her occupation is, Jen.” He said nothing more on the matter, simply so he wouldn’t give more fuel to the fire. But as soon as Jensen took his joking the wrong way, turned it into.. that, he tilted his torso back a little bit as a red color hazed over the flesh of his face and his lips parted. He found himself at a loss of words, and simply stared at Jensen without making a noise. He looked down and found the courage to speak again.

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes slightly at Misha in thought as the other man stared at Jensen, a palpable silence between them. Then, Misha looked down and spoke, saying a minimal sentence. Jensen gave a little scoff at the statement. "That's nothin' new, really, but so are you. Which makes things work out awesomely, remember?" Jensen said, regarding Misha carefully.

play with me || jackle-s

There was something weird going on. Maybe it was all those years of working on a show where weird stuff happened every day--oh hey, today we're going to make it look like you cut this person's head off, welcome to work--or maybe it was the weird things that were going on with that website on his computer (which was just bad dreams and a liiiittle too much to drink, obviously), but his gut was telling him that something was off.

Jensen let his gaze trail down and across Misha’s chest as he leaned back, taking in every line he could see. A sliver of tanned skin (because, really, Misha was more than Jared at times) flashed as Misha’s shirt rode up, the sharp angle of a hipbone surely just out of view from Jensen’s line of sight. He wished this restaurant had lower tables. Jensen’s eyes lingered there for a second before snapping back up to Misha’s. “Typical guy stuff,” he baited. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

Misha’s eyes expressed amusement before a smile carved over his lips. “Your logic is failing. Telling me you entertained yourself, but then not telling me what it was. I’m going to assume you went bareback riding a giraffe down the street, naked.. while.. throwing confetti.” He takes a few pauses as his hand waves in a gesturing motion, his eyes averting around the room a few times as he speaks. “Hey. That should in an ep. That would be amazing.” He grins and lifts his hand over his mouth to hide away laughter that wanted to break through.

He had to keep himself from grinning like an idiot or bursting out laughing at Misha's suggestion of Jensen passing the time and he instead threw the waitress a "no, thank you", glancing towards Misha and noting the expression on his face. Now, Jensen wasn't incredibly skilled at reading people, but he was good enough and Misha was an open book with him.

Jensen caught Misha’s eyes, even across the restaurant and the heads of the other people. He watched as the man was momentarily stopped by an employee, although the latter quickly got the drift that Misha wasn’t just bypassing the hostess because he felt like it. Understandable, considering if they knew Misha, they might think he was trying to do one of his Scavenger Hunt things or maybe something equally as crazy.

“Without me? You could find entertainment without me? I am amazed.” 

Jensen let his gaze trail down and across Misha's chest as he leaned back, taking in every line he could see. A sliver of tanned skin (because, really, Misha was more than Jared at times) flashed as Misha's shirt rode up, the sharp angle of a hipbone surely just out of view from Jensen's line of sight. He wished this restaurant had lower tables. Jensen's eyes lingered there for a second before snapping back up to Misha's. "Typical guy stuff," he baited. "You wouldn't be interested."

The place was quiet, small enough and casual enough so as not to attract too much attention from what would surely seem like the two friendly co-workers having a nice meal. Which was what they would portray, even if some less-innocent intentions had brought Jensen here. Of course, it wasn’t as though they were bound to get much attention, Vancouver was luckily quiet like that. Jensen had already chosen a table off-center, facing the floor of the restaurant and the rest of the patrons.

The Boston-born actor arrived just in the slightest late. He wouldn’t admit it to Jensen but he was late because he spent forever taking a shower. He really enjoyed the feeling of hot water against his skin, since the shower he had to take for work usually only lasted thee minutes. It was a race to get clean and get to your place on set. But this was nice. A break. Hell, he could call it a date if he wanted to, but he was a grown man and preferred not to sound like a teenage girl infront of others and himself, even.

Jensen caught Misha's eyes, even across the restaurant and the heads of the other people. He watched as the man was momentarily stopped by an employee, although the latter quickly got the drift that Misha wasn't just bypassing the hostess because he felt like it. Understandable, considering if they knew Misha, they might think he was trying to do one of his Scavenger Hunt things or maybe something equally as crazy.