Three Fics for the Jensen_Misha 12 Days of Christmas Meme

[dosciencetoit]

I played around in the jensen_misha 12 Days of Christmas Meme and filled out a few prompts, which are here:

Day 1: Hypothermia
Prompt: stageira asked for "Kept apart by the snow. Misha is trying to reach Jensen who is in Vancouver, but the snow makes it difficult! Cold airports and colder taxi waiting lines."
Rating: PG

Screw a White Christmas (I Just Want to be With You)

It was stupid.

It's the day before Christmas and they cancelled the flights to Vancouver. Aparently heavy snow fall meant the planes couldn't land, so they grounded the flights until further notice.

It was just a short domestic flight; 30 minutes tops. Misha figured it couldn't be more than two and a half hours by train. It was only ten in the morning when he set out from the airport. He'd be home by two at the very latest if he could catch a train right away.

Of course, because it's the day before Christmas, the direct trains are all sold out. Fortunately, he's able to catch a train with an hour long layover that would get him home around four. He figured he could deal with it and forked over the money, all the while grumbling that he would never work so close to Christmas again. The lady in line behind him gave him a sympathetic glance.

The first train is fine. It's warm, and he gets two seats to himself. He even splurges and buys coffee and a candy bar when the man with the cart comes by. They make good time on the longest leg of the trip, and Misha disembarks feeling pretty good about the whole situation.

He's blasted with a gust of cold air as soon as he gets off. He tucks his head into the neck of his jacket, wishing he had a hat or something to keep his ears warm, but it feels a little warmer when he hits the underground tunnels that lead to the lounge. He contemplates spending the hour with his book while he waits for the next train in relative comfort.

Except the lounge isn't comfortable at all. Apparently no one told the rail company that insulation and heating aren't really necessary for transit passengers, so before long he starts to feel the cold seeping into his bones. Caving, he buys another coffee to warm up and settles himself between two warm bodies on the row of seating the rail company deigned to install. He even manages to read a little, despite cold hands, for the hour wait.

"This is an announcement for Via Rail passengers on train 87 servicing Vancouver. Due to heavy snow fall in the surrounding regions, the trains are moving slowly on the tracks and have been delayed for another hour. We're sorry for the inconvenience."

Misha almost swears, but there are small children around, so he bites his tongue instead. He can hear the grumbling around him, people getting upset when there's nothing they can do about it. He figures the delay and the snow might put them more than an hour behind, but he still figures he can get home by dinner. Even if he doesn't cook, there's always take-out.

He must not be able to keep his annoyance off his face. The elderly woman sitting beside him smiled and patted his knee. "Trying to get home to your sweatheart?"

Misha smiled at the term. "Yeah. I'm not usually big on holidays, but this is our first Christmas together, and I know it means a lot to him."

The woman smiled brightly in response, and it lead to the other people sitting around to start talking about who they were spending Christmas with, and they touching stories about first Christmases and epic vacations. The talking served better than the coffee to warm him up, so he was in high spirits when the train arrived, an hour and a half late.

The train starts off alright; no snack service this time. It's not long before the train starts to slow down, though. Misha tries to look out the window, but it's snowing too hard to see much beyond the first service road. When the trian comes to a complete stop, Misha finally starts to get impatient. He's about to get up and see what the problem is when the train starts to move again, slowly.

"Due to heavy snow accumulation, the train will be proceeding slowly. We're sorry for the inconvenience."

Sighing, Misha sinks back into his seat. There's nothing he can do about it. The hour long trip takes over three hours, meaning they don't arrive in Vancouver until just after seven. It's not too bad, Misha figures. All he has to do is make it back to the house. He'll eat the leftovers of whatever's been thrown together, and they can spend the rest of the evening watching old Christmas movies, drinking eggnog, and doing whatever other traditions he can think up.

Misha realizes it won't be as easy as he thinks as soon as he steps off the train. When they said "heavy snow accumulation" they actually meant "metric shit-tonne." It's an official Canadian unit of measurement for snowfall. It looks like parts of it are as high as his hips, and that wasn't counting the snow drifts.

"It's going to be hell catching a cab," he mutters, kicking his feet through the snow that's accumulated since the last time the platform was shoveled.

"I'm sorry to say, you'll be lucky to catch a cab at all." The station worker genuinely did look upset as she says it. "They pulled the city buses off the roads just after noon today because of the snow, and the rest of the city shut down after that. I think this is record single day snowfall for the city. We're recommending everyone stays at the station tonight."

Misha knows better than to argue with her, so he goes inside to contemplate his options. It's not like he's expected home. The whole trip was supposed to be a surprise. He could always camp out at station until the roads are cleared in the morning and go home first thing. It would still be a surprise.

But then he wouldn't be able to take part in the Christmas Eve traditions.

He also doesn't really like the idea of spending the night in the train station when he can be in a warm, comfortable bed with someone who loves him.

Misha decides he'll walk the ten miles or so back home. He figures it shouldn't take too long.

"You're going to try walking through this?" Misha's almost at the door when he hears the quite voice. It's the elderly woman he was talking to before. "You're going to catch your death."

"I really don't want to be stuck here on Christmas Eve, and it's really not that long a walk to my house."

The woman sighs. "At least take my hat and scarf. Your boyfriend will never forgive you if you're sick on Christmas Day."

"Are you sure?"

"Just take them and get home to your man," she replies, holding out the bright yellow hat and scarf.

"Thanks." Misha wraps the scarf around his neck and tugs the hat down to cover his ears. It's a little snug, but it's better than nothing. "Merry Christmas."

The woman smiles and waves Misha off as he steps out of the station. Fortunately it's not as windy in Vancouver, so it's only the falling snow, and the "heavy accumulation" that he has to contend with.

He can't even see the sidewalks in places, so he decides to stick to the streets. The cars, at least, have left tracks that make the walking a little easier. The snow is still deep enough to make him move at a snail's pace, however. He's more grateful that he could have imagined for the hat and scarf. He only wishes he'd thought to bring gloves, because his hands are freezing.

He stops checking his watch about half an hour into the journey. It's freezing, and he doesn't feel like he's making any progress. He sees a Tim Hortons on one corner, it's lights brightly on like a beacon, and contemplates giving up and calling home to explain what's happening. He doesn't though, just keeps on walking, even though his legs hurt from kicking through the snow.

It's eleven thirty before he makes it home. He's freezing, and all he can think of is a warm shower and the bed. Instead, he finds Jensen asleep on the couch, the credits of some movie rolling. He thinks about not waking Jensen, but even frozen solid, Misha can't resist the urge. He hangs his coat up and pries the boots off before walking to the couch.

Moving quietly, he approaches Jensen on the couch and slips a cold hand down the back of neck.

"Jesus Christ!" Jensen shouted, jumping up. "What the hell, Misha?"

It's an automatic response. Misha's done similar things in the past, and Jensen response on reflex. Then he realizes that Misha is actually in the room with him. "Misha? What are you doing home?"

Misha smils. The confusion and joy in Jensen's face made the whole trek seem worth while. "You didn't think I would let you spend Christmas Eve by yourself, did you?"

"But they closed the airports," Jensen points out, getting up off the couch.

"I took the train." Misha walks around the couch until he's standing face to face with Jensen.

"They pulled the busses off the roads."

"I walked."

"You're insane," Jensen answers before pulling Misha into a kiss. His lips feel impossibly warm against Misha's chilled face. It seems like forever before Jensen pulls back. "I love you."

---

Day 5: Domestic
Prompt: mithrel asked for "Something (sink, dishwasher, bathtub...something that requires a lot of fixing) breaks and Jensen fixes it. Misha "helps" him, but he gets distracted watching Jensen's ass, or fantasizing about licking the sweat off him. After Jensen's done (or before *g*) Misha jumps him."
Rating: PG

The Right Valve

It's really not that hard, as far as housework goes. He installed the waterline to the old fridge, and it should be a matter of cutting the old copper line, reconnecting the new one and soldering it to make sure there are no leaks.

The one delivery guy is standing there tapping his foot impatiently – he needs to take away the old fridge – and his impatience is starting to grate on Jensen. Looking back over his shoulder Jensen eyes Misha and asks, “You turn the water off?”

Misha gives a little jerk, bright blue eyes blinking, as he brings himself back to the situation at hand. Misha’s supposed to be “supervising,” but Jensen figures he’s distracted himself and is lost in his own little world.

Jensen wouldn’t be surprised if that little world involved the way Jensen was bent over the line – there’s not quite enough room for him to get behind the fridge properly.

Never the less, Misha nods and smiles. Jensen takes it as a yes, and cuts the line.

He really should have known better.

Water comes out of the pipe, spraying him in the face. He tries to stopper it with his thumb, but the water just sprays out from underneath, hitting the walls, the cupboards and him. He stands up and rounds on Misha, wrapping the thumb-covered line with the hem of his shirt.

“You turned the water off,” he comments, voice dripping with sarcasm. Misha looks a little sheepish.

“I turned it off to the fridge,” Misha replied, shrugging, and he’s wearing that stupid little smile of his that makes Jensen wonder if the whole thing might have been orchestrated. He narrows his eyes, and Misha has the decency to stop smiling. Misha swallows. “I’ll go turn it off to the rest of the house now, yeah?”

“You do that,” Jensen growls, feeling his shirt soaking through. And fuck if the water isn’t cold. The one delivery man has the gall to laugh, and the other is close behind him with a huge grin on his face. Jensen snaps at them, “Just get the damn thing out of here.”

By the time Misha’s made it to the basement to turn off the water, the guys have the old fridge loaded on their dolly and they’re letting themselves back out the front door. Jensen steps out from behind the fridge and draws up to his full height, ready to chastise Misha for the screw up.

He stops dead when he sees the way Misha is eyeing him. Misha licks his lips as his eyes run over Jensen’s body, and Jensen becomes aware of the way his t-shirt is now plastered to his body. His nipples are definitely prominent.

“You fucker,” Jensen hisses out, realizing what was going on. “You planned on that!”

Misha smirks, the one filled with hot and dirty promises. “Couldn’t miss out on the opportunity for an impromptu wet t-shirt contest.”

“No contest if I’m the only one wet,” Jensen grumbles.

“Wouldn’t have been a contest anyway.” Misha’s smirk grows bigger, and he closes the distance between them. “Besides, winner gets to name his prize.”

With that kind of invitation, Jensen can’t really bring himself to stay mad. He grabs Misha and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. He bites at Misha’s lower lip before pulling back to suggest they move it to the bedroom. Misha goes willingly.

He’ll finish installing the water line to the fridge once he’s finished “punishing” Misha. And after Misha dries up the mess his little stunt made.

---

Day 9: Truth or Dare
Prompt: mithrel asked for "Richard and Misha get in a Truth or Dare contest and Richard dares Misha to fuck Jensen."
Rating: PG

Unexpected Results

They'd been drinking.

Of course they'd been drinking. It was the only explaination as to why five grown men would consent to playing truth or dare to begin with. It had started out with Misha, Richard, Jensen, Jared and Jim.

Jensen backed out right at the start on account of not being a twelve year old girl. Jim left shortly after, citing old age, though Misha was pretty sure Jim just didn't want to deal with the embarassing photos he was going to take.

Several rounds, and several more shots in, Jared packed it in. They couldn't even heckle him about it, since it wasn't his dare that he'd backed out on.

Richard was grinning as he looked pointedly at Misha. "I dare you to suck Jared off."

"I'm not letting Misha suck me off!" Jared yelled, standing up. Misha was reminded of a giraff standing up; all limbs. He laughed, earning him a glare from Jared before he continued. "For one thing, Gen would kill me when she found out, and for another, it's Misha. No offence man, but your just not pretty enough for me to switch teams."

"But I'm very pretty," Misha pouted. "Just ask Jensen."

Jensen answered distractedly from where he was reading the next week's script, drunkenly marking it up. "Misha's a pretty pretty princess. There are photos."

"Whatever." Jared grabbed his coat and made to leave.

"He backed out, so I get to go again," Richard demanded. He had a determined glint in his eyes, and Misha briefly worried that things were about to escalate again. He drummed up his resolve, unwilling to be the first to back down.

"Fine, but it has to be different from the last dare."

"You're so going to owe me a Texas mickey," Richard muttered, his grin getting wider. "I dare you to fuck Jensen."

"He already has."

Jensen's interjection made Richard choke on his beer, but Misha couldn't even appreciate it. He was too shocked that Jensen had just outed himself.

They all looked at Jensen with varying degrees of shock on their faces, even Jared, who hadn't quite made it out of the room. Jensen just shrugged and looked at Misha. "They were bound to find out eventually."

Misha just kept staring, until Jensen added, "Want to spend the night in my room?"

---

I find RPS far too amusing.

Comments

[larantula.livejournal.com]

The last one made me giggle out loud...at the office. XD Misha truly is a pretty pretty princess! :D