Lost and Found for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
puchuupoet
Jun. 3rd, 2011 06:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
springflingmod.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
spn_springflingTitle: Lost and Found
Pairing: Richard Speight Jr/Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings:
Written by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
morganoconner for puchuupoet!
Richard's hands are barely steady as he pours the last of their bottle of wine into the two fluted glasses Misha holds out. There's low music playing in the background, something ethnic and a little bit jazzy, but Richard can barely hear it over his own heartbeat.
This started out as some sort of seduction, Richard is absolutely sure of it. But he's long since forgotten who was meant to be doing the seducing. He's not even sure why it mattered, if it mattered. He's too full of good wine and home cooked Italian food, and Misha is right there, clouding Richard's mind the way he's always done, like some kind of particularly addictive drug.
They haven't seen each other in nearly five years, but that doesn't seem important anymore. What's important is the way Misha's looking at him right now, like those five years never even happened. Like that final night together, full of so much heartache, was just a dream. Like this means something, something significant.
Like this time, if Richard asked him to, he'd stay.
Richard won't. He won't ask for more than tonight. There's only so many times one man can take hearing variations of the word no, no matter how well he understands the reasons behind them.
But tonight…
Tonight he'll beg for if he has to. He needs this, needs Misha, needs to re-memorize all the lines and curves and dips of Misha's body, all the sounds he makes when skin brushes skin and heat flares sharp and bright between them. Richard needs Misha more than he's needed anything his whole life, and he doesn't mind admitting it. Whether he gets a night or a lifetime, he just needs now.
They finish their wine, each pretending they don't notice the increasingly heated looks between them until finally Misha sets his glass down. He waits for Richard to follow suit, and then he takes Richard's hand, leading him toward the bedroom.
Richard could almost forget that they're in his own apartment, the way Misha navigates it like it's his own.
They strip each other down in silence, soft light falling on pale skin, kisses exchanged between unsteady heartbeats, and when Misha navigates them toward the bed, Richard remembers why it was always so damn perfect between them.
They re-learn each other in all the ways that never used to matter, taking the time to feel and experience every nuance of the act. Every hitched breath is a treasure, every touch, a revelation. Richard's name falls from Misha's lips, and it feels like a prayer. They come together, and the real world ceases to exist. Time falls away like sand, and all that matters is each new moment, each precious sensation.
In the aftermath, they lie curled together, Richard the big spoon even though he's the smaller one, just like it always used to be. Somehow, for them, it's always made perfect sense.
"I love you," Misha tells him, on that brink that comes just before the tumble into sleep.
Richard kisses his shoulder and, when he's sure Misha's asleep, he whispers the words back. Tries not to hope that it wasn't just the wine speaking, but he won't ask, just like he won't ever ask Misha to stay. Not this time.
~
Richard may not ask, but eventually, he realizes he doesn't need to.
Misha stays anyway.
Pairing: Richard Speight Jr/Misha Collins
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings:
Written by
morganoconner for puchuupoet!Richard's hands are barely steady as he pours the last of their bottle of wine into the two fluted glasses Misha holds out. There's low music playing in the background, something ethnic and a little bit jazzy, but Richard can barely hear it over his own heartbeat.
This started out as some sort of seduction, Richard is absolutely sure of it. But he's long since forgotten who was meant to be doing the seducing. He's not even sure why it mattered, if it mattered. He's too full of good wine and home cooked Italian food, and Misha is right there, clouding Richard's mind the way he's always done, like some kind of particularly addictive drug.
They haven't seen each other in nearly five years, but that doesn't seem important anymore. What's important is the way Misha's looking at him right now, like those five years never even happened. Like that final night together, full of so much heartache, was just a dream. Like this means something, something significant.
Like this time, if Richard asked him to, he'd stay.
Richard won't. He won't ask for more than tonight. There's only so many times one man can take hearing variations of the word no, no matter how well he understands the reasons behind them.
But tonight…
Tonight he'll beg for if he has to. He needs this, needs Misha, needs to re-memorize all the lines and curves and dips of Misha's body, all the sounds he makes when skin brushes skin and heat flares sharp and bright between them. Richard needs Misha more than he's needed anything his whole life, and he doesn't mind admitting it. Whether he gets a night or a lifetime, he just needs now.
They finish their wine, each pretending they don't notice the increasingly heated looks between them until finally Misha sets his glass down. He waits for Richard to follow suit, and then he takes Richard's hand, leading him toward the bedroom.
Richard could almost forget that they're in his own apartment, the way Misha navigates it like it's his own.
They strip each other down in silence, soft light falling on pale skin, kisses exchanged between unsteady heartbeats, and when Misha navigates them toward the bed, Richard remembers why it was always so damn perfect between them.
They re-learn each other in all the ways that never used to matter, taking the time to feel and experience every nuance of the act. Every hitched breath is a treasure, every touch, a revelation. Richard's name falls from Misha's lips, and it feels like a prayer. They come together, and the real world ceases to exist. Time falls away like sand, and all that matters is each new moment, each precious sensation.
In the aftermath, they lie curled together, Richard the big spoon even though he's the smaller one, just like it always used to be. Somehow, for them, it's always made perfect sense.
"I love you," Misha tells him, on that brink that comes just before the tumble into sleep.
Richard kisses his shoulder and, when he's sure Misha's asleep, he whispers the words back. Tries not to hope that it wasn't just the wine speaking, but he won't ask, just like he won't ever ask Misha to stay. Not this time.
Richard may not ask, but eventually, he realizes he doesn't need to.
Misha stays anyway.
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Date: 2011-06-15 12:38 am (UTC)You're too kind to me bb! I'm really happy you enjoyed it, especially enough to comment without knowing it was mine. ;) *HUGGLES*
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Date: 2011-06-12 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-14 12:34 pm (UTC)