Journal (1)

The Journal

Jensen walks into the messy hotel room. They are in town for Jib Con Five, and they were staying in a nearby hotel room. Jensen noticed a few things about Misha in their times. Misha never kept things clean. And so when Jensen struggled to get the door of Misha's hotel room open he wasn't surprised. He shut the door again, kicking some of the clothes off to the side. He searches the rooms for Misha, only to find him passed out on the bed with a bottle of Wine on the night stand. Jensen pulls the edge of a blanket from under Misha's torso and covers him up.
If anyone on the show knows anything about Jensen, it would be he is a clean freak. Not many people know it but he is. That makes he and Misha complete opposites. And with this idea playing through Jensen's mind he began cleaning, putting the dirty clothes in a basket and the clean clothes that are only declared clean by a sniff test in a folded pile on Misha's bag.
After Jensen has tidied up the hotel suite he puts a glass of water and two Tylenol on the night stand, removing the wine and beer bottles from the room and put them in the recycle can. Jensen smiles at the sleeping Misha. No matter how much they fight and argue, it was still obvious that Jensen loved him like a brother. Jensen shut the door quietly and goes to the kitchen. He pulls out two pans and cracks some eggs into a pan. In the other he places bacon. The smell of breakfast wafts through the suite. Jensen knows Misha will be awake soon.
Jensen places a plate and fork on the bar and turns to push the scrambled eggs around. When he turns back Misha is stumbling down the hallway. Jensen smiles and rushes over to his side. Jensen wraps his arm around Misha's bare waist and pulled him toward the bar stool.
"I made breakfast," Jensen whispers by Misha's ear. Misha's face brightens.
"Thanks," Jensen could tell that under the grogginess of the horrible hang over Misha was appreciative of everything Jensen has done for him, not just this morning but ever.
As Jensen puts a few strips of bacon and a pile of eggs on Misha's plate Jensen remembers helping Misha through every rough time. Misha's wife Victoria wasn't fond of Misha always being on the road. She's miss him. Jensen always suspected she cheated a lot, but he never said anything. How could he? A rough phone call from her would put him into a drinking binge and have him pass out.
Jensen made sure to always have a room next to Misha's so he could hear if it was a rough night. Misha's noise would keep him up all night, banging on the walls, throwing things, and crying. The horrible sobs that shook from Misha in between sips of alcohol he used to drown his sorrows would cause a few tears to slip from Jensen's eyes as well. Jensen knew full well Misha was better off without Victoria, and somewhere when Jensen looked in Misha's bloodshot, dull and hung over eyes every morning, he knew it too.
They ate in silence. They had agreed that they would never talk about it, which made it awkward until Jensen came up with some random thing to talk about. But last night sounded to be the worst it has ever been. He had screamed more than sobbed. What he was screaming was still unintelligible but they were words.
"Misha," Jensen begged and looked up from his plate of food. Misha met his eyes with a piece of bacon sticking out of his mouth. Jensen noticed he hadn't done much else but push the food around though. When Jensen looked back to Misha's face he was hurriedly swallowing the bacon piece and a blush rose across his cheeks.
"Jensen?" Misha musters from his dry mouth. Misha clears his throat as Jensen jumps from his seat and pours a glass of orange juice. Misha thanks him with a nod and takes a long gulp.
"Misha I know we agreed to never talk about it but... I just want to make sure you are okay." Misha shifts and places his hands in his lap.
"I'm fine Jensen, but thanks for caring." Misha's eyes glass over as he looks down at the food. Jensen turns away from the heart broken Misha.
"If you want to talk..." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Misha nod. If Jensen was being honest his marriage wasn't peachy either. Being away didn't so much cause fights and blow ups as them not quite seeing eye to eye on stupid things. Danneel would change something about Justice that Jensen just couldn't quite see as right, and vice versa. The only thing keeping their marriage together, it seemed was Justice and the publicity show.
"Misha look I don't like you stewing over this stuff, I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself." Jensen pushes. He spins to face Misha.
"Jensen please I don't want to..."
"Misha, listen. I don't want you to feel like you have to lock this all up inside of you. I know how that feels. It tears you apart. I see it every day. Please-"
"Jensen! I don't want to talk about it!" And with that Misha jumped from the stool, grabbed his breakfast plate and ran to his room like a grumpy child. Jensen hissed out a groan in anguish. He put the left overs in the fridge and washed up the plates. Jensen sat down on the couch and flicked on the news. He didn't listen though. He looked around the room. He studied the normal decor and the personal touches Misha added to make it more home-like. He draped his childhood blanket over the back of the couch, and he put a pair of old socks by the door. Whenever you'd ask he'd say it was his "religion". Jensen smiled at the thought.
When they first started working together Misha was always happy, with a bright, wide smile across his face. He'd crack a lame joke about everything. But as the tours went from one con a week to seven a week he changed.
At first everyone thought he was tired, but slowly that smile melted to a frown, and his once hated lame jokes were a missed daily action. When staying in Misha's hotel room one night to keep an eye on his drunken friend Jensen found out what it really was. Victoria. But Jensen was sworn to secrecy. Holding a bawling, crumpled silhouette of what Misha was, he swore not to tell a single soul why Misha cried himself to sleep most nights, and rarely smiled except to put on that act for the cons.
Jensen, being a great friend, swore to keep that secret. And he did.
Jensen stood from the couch and walked down the hallway to Misha's bedroom door. Jensen held out a balled fist to knock, but before he could a snort sounded through the door. That was a snort of deep sleep. Jensen dropped his hand and twisted the handle. The door swung open easily, mush to Jensen's pleasure. Jensen slipped into the room and went to the bed. He bent down and whispered an apology into Misha's ear. He heard a vibrating sound. He opened the night stand and saw Misha's phone. Jensen pocketed it stiffly. As he closed the drawer he spotted a small book, only an inch thick, but the pages seemed to be dog eared. Jensen rescued it as well. Jensen left Misha to sleep and took the empty plate with him. He washed it up in the sink before returning to the couch.
Every feeling in his body was telling Jensen not to open the journal, but his brain was telling him to. Jensen opened the book to one of the deepest dog eared pages and unfolded the dog ear. He read the first line.
'January 19, 2014 Dream: Jensen' Jensen was intrigued. He had no idea Misha kept a dream journal. And so he read on.
'That night I fell asleep with reassurance that Jensen was next door. For the first time ever I knew why Jensen specifically asked for a room next to mine. And it made me feel safe. But it also did other things to my mind.
In my dream I was laying on the couch, where I had fallen asleep watching Doctor Who. The TARDIS noise woke dream me. I sat up from the uncomfortable position and I looked back. There behind the couch was the TARDIS. The handle turned and the door opened. From the blackness a man emerged. He had on a pair of dark wash jeans, a navy blue tee shirt and Supras. His mouse brown hair is spiked up and as he walks further into the light of the television I realized it was Jensen. He smiled seductively at me, and much to my surprise an uncomfortable feeling grew in my stomach. The feeling I get before my pants get tighter. And they did. To my delight upon looking at Jensen's pants they looked abnormally tight too. And then I realized I liked seeing Jensen's pants tighter. I liked it even more when he came close to me and whispered into my ear "They're tight for you." I almost screamed with delight. Jensen swung over the couch and pushed me to lay on my back. He smiled before laying on me, rubbing our hips together. The feeling was... most pleasurable. I released a groan as my hips jut closer to his. He smirked and bit his lip. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. And then I woke up with a hard one. I realized that I like Jensen more than a friend, best friend, or a brother even. Maybe this feeling could be classified as a love interest.'
Jensen was in awe. How could Misha Collins have that kind of feeling for him. Not that he is gay, or at least bi, but for Jensen. What made him so special?
Jensen was soon to find out.