Nobody Sees, Nobody Knows [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Thirty-Three

A haze of buttery yellow falls across the pillow, warming the back of my eyelids.

"Rise and shine, Mish."

I reach out to rub at the headache suddenly blooming behind my right eye. Blinking rapidly, I sit upright in bed, blearily scanning the room.

"Good morning," I croak.

I avoid staring at the worn denim contours of a very appealing backside until Jensen turns to grin at me. His eyes glitter in the strengthening sunlight and I have to swallow. Twice.

"I took some pics for future blackmail material," he says, tapping the phone in his back pocket.

"The fuck you say."

"I'm serious."

"Of me sleeping?" I groan, wiping my mouth and checking for drool. "Better not post that anywhere."

Jensen crosses tanned, muscular arms and leans nonchalantly against the wall.

"Nah. These are just for me. But they're Instagram gold."

His hair is mussed with sleep, cheeks flushed, and his eyes are sparkling with humour. A tendril of heat unfurls low across my belly.

"Y-you're really annoying," I grumble.

"You're not terribly eloquent when you're hungover."

I scoff, trying to gather enough fucks to care.

My jeans are now slipping precariously low on those pretty hips and I lick my lips self-consciously. My eyes follow the dark trail of hair low on his stomach as it disappears into - good grief, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

"I also stepped out for a bit," Jensen's voice carries from the kitchenette. "Got you some lunch."

"Lunch?" Panic rises slow and hard in my chest.

"It's 1:23 P.M.," he chuckles as I throw back the covers.

"Shit."

I stumble into the bathroom and splash water onto my face. I haven't jogged and I'm going to be late for work and, fuck, why didn't Jensen wake me earlier and what is he doing here anyway and, shit, my feet hurt, my back is stiff, and I'm starving...

When I run out of the bathroom a minute later, Jensen is standing in the kitchenette, arms folded across his chest and looking like sex on legs as usual.

"Relax, you're not due on set for another couple of hours." His smile is full and wide and it dazzles me for a bit.

I pace behind the couch, chewing a hangnail and wincing when I break skin. I suck at the skin and shift my weight, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Oh, right. So, uh, you bought lunch."

My gaze falls on the takeout bags and the platter of creamy peanut butter on Ritz crackers on top of the Formica table.

"Yeah, well I wasn't gonna cook. You know I'm a bona fide disaster in the kitchen."

I gape at the logo on the packaging. He bought Burger King for lunch?

"Thought you didn't eat that stuff."

I recall our marshmallow duel, the gleam in his eyes and the surrender in his shoulder line when I suggested this could be our little secret.