Jared didn’t catch on at first.
No … at first it seemed pretty normal. Jensen would only mention MIsha here and there–the usual things like: “Seriously though, who talks like that?” or “That dude is a bucket of weird.”
But as the months passed and everyone on set got to know their new resident angel a bit more, Jensen’s comments started becoming more and more frequent, and maybe– just a little too curious. “Saw Mish earlier … he was coming from the store or something. He was going into his trailer with a bottle of lotion and some beer … I wonder what he’s getting up to?”
Jared could only shrug at his buddy’s sarcastic remark– refraining at the last moment from asking him: Why do you want to know?
But the “why” became clear a short while later, when it seemed like every other sentence became “Misha this” and “Misha that”. Whether they were initially talking about the guy or not; Jensen always found a way to steer the conversation in that direction. Like when they were eating nachos– it was nacho Tuesday and Jared was feeling much better after the stressful shoot once he had two, steaming plates in front of him– or he was, until Jensen held up a broken chip and said: “Hey, look! This chip is curved like Misha’s mouth. Seriously man, who has lips like that? They are like– flat, but still full and shit. It’s weird.“
The man chuckled, turning the chip with delicate fingers.
“And we all know what ‘weird‘ is code for”Jared grumbled without pause– his filter, way too warn at that point to care; and he really didn’t feel like talking about Misha over his lunch for the millionth time that week.
“What?” Jensen asked, softly setting down the chip, looking horribly confused and innocent– which only annoyed Jared more.
“You don’t think he’s ‘weird’, man! You don’t think about someone’s lips or what they do in their trailer each day or bring them up over a plate of nachos if you think they’re weird!”
Jensen gaped, shrugging helplessly as he furrowed his brow at Jared across the table.
“You know what?” Jared finally hissed, standing up and pulling his tray up with him. “How about you discuss all this with man himself? I’m sure he can give you much better insight on the shape of his lips than I can.” And with that, Jared stormed off, feeling a little guilty but a lot relived that he didn’t have to listen to anymore Misha/food comparisons for the moment.
Later that evening, he saw Jensen standing outside of Misha’s trailer door, hand hovering against it’s surface– unsure of whether to knock or retreat. When knuckles finally landed, Jensen instantly turned into a wriggling lump, smoothing down his shirt and straightening the buttons, shuffling from foot to foot and running his fingers through his short hair just before cupping his hand over his mouth to give himself a breath check– probably didn’t want to still smell like nachos, Jared imagined.
The next day– Jensen didn’t bring up Misha– not even once, but there was a permanent smile on his face and an extra bob in his step. And when he and Jared sat down for lunch, Jensen remained mostly quiet, only commenting here and there on the conversation Jared was finally in charge of carrying. But in the moments when they were both silent, chewing contently on their bites of BLT, Jared didn’t miss the way that Jensen held up a piece of bacon, looking at the curve of it, running the tip of his finger along its edge before smiling softly to himself– no longer curious, no longer wondering … no longer needing to share his interest. Jensen seemed peaceful, happy … like he was remembering something– something really, really good.
Soon, Jared was smiling too– after all,that’s all he’s ever wanted for the guy.