#scaryjared

i'm well, how are you? B)

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come and get it \ (•◡•) /

Misha's hands are rather distracting when given something to hold.

His fingers, of course, are alluring in their own right, empty or not, each one long, slim, and graceful. But when they're curled around an object - a cold beer, a pen - or ghosting across Jensen's skin, teasing, caressing, Jensen can't help but watch, sometimes forgets to breathe.

It's happening right now, on his couch, Misha resting against the cushions, attached to that damn phone like it's an extra limb. The corners of his lips quirk up as he types, self-amused by his wit - the smug bastard - but Jensen only has eyes for the deftness of those hands and fingers, their movement as clever as the words they're swiftly forming.

He's so focused on them that he misses the first time Misha's foot nudges his leg, gaze finally tearing away at the second try, which is a little harder and more insistent. Misha then stares at him like he knows, like he's aware of Jensen's secret fixation, and he tests Jensen by running a thumb languidly along the edge of his phone, smirking when Jensen flushes and glares.

"What?" Jensen snaps, harsher than he intended. He mellows the syllable by softening his eyes, but Misha's already humming indulgently.

"Stop ogling my beautiful hands and check your Twitter, you perv."

"I wasn't-" Jensen cuts himself off, because there's no use in pretending when Misha clearly sees him, through him, often unnervingly so. He does make it a point to roll his eyes at Misha before grabbing his phone, though, heaving a martyred sigh as he peers at the screen.

"You tweeted the wrong me."

Misha blinks and frowns, a brief squint of confusion coloring his entire face in a shade of adorable, an adjective Jensen would never admit out loud. "I did?" Misha turns his attention to the phone again and laughs after a second, rubbing a palm over his jaw to the back of his neck. "Oops." His eyes crinkle and wink at him playfully. Jensen's breath catches in his throat. "Reply anyway?"

Jensen swallows, masking his reaction with a cough. "Yeah."

Hannah frowns into the shopping basket she's been carrying around for Cas, raising a curious eyebrow when he places three pies (all different flavors) inside and heads back toward the bakery. She watches him mull over the other choices, looking more intensely focused than she's seen the angel as of late. After a minute or so, she steps into the space beside him and clears her throat, managing to divert his attention.

"Wouldn't he want to eat something else as well?" she wonders, glancing from one latticed dessert to the next. "These selections seem rather... uniform."

"Trust me, Hannah," Cas says seriously, his voice still gruff but now with a new trace of excitement. "Dean is a man of very singular tastes."

"What about a three-bean surprise?" Hannah offers, eyes widening as Cas reaches for yet another box. "I never figured out the surprise but-"

"Perhaps later," Cas stops her gently, his smile soft and then rather proud when he peers into their overflowing basket. He tries to take the handles from her but Hannah clicks her tongue and walks away to check-out before he can object, wanting to try every bit of this 'grocery store' experience for herself.

cutie cutie cutie ☺️

what's wrong??