FIC: That Middle Road (14/?)
Nov. 23rd, 2009 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: That Middle Road (14/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Pairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set inpoisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder, and with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. There's also mention of child abuse, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree.
The kitchen is nicer than Vincent's, Misha thinks, or at least homier. There are filmy curtains and such. There's Gina, with her stained apron and her messy hair, working at the stove top over something that smells delicious. Misha doubts that Jeremy will eat it, though; he's found that Jeremy seems to exist on coffee and snark. Which may explain why Jeremy likes Denis so well.
"He's running again," Gina tells Denis, still facing the stove. Misha knows she's telling Denis because Gina doesn't seem to tell Misha anything, though she was kind enough to make him brownies to show her weird sympathy regarding Vincent. She's sweet, so Misha won't leave her a sharply worded note about being mute, not deaf. "Should we..."
When her silence trails off, Denis shoots a blistering look at her back. "Should we what, hold an intervention? 'Gee, sorry your girl tried to pull a Sylvia Plath, but we're worried about your cardio routine.'"
"I don't mean it like that."
"Then how do you mean it?"
It's a bit like watching a tennis match. Misha stares into his mug of tea, rotating it slowly in its own perspiration, and feels Winston settle against his leg. The sound of the door opening brings them both to attention; Misha doesn't care to examine the similarities.
People emerge into the kitchen, none of whom are Jeremy. Misha identifies them as Zach and Wendy, the friendly (very friendly) couple from the night Vincent died. Wendy has Ryzer on her hip, and Zach has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The bag seems to have the accessories necessary for the upkeep of a toddler.
Ryzer (who is actually dressed, unlike the last time Misha saw him) sees Winston and throws out both chubby arms, nearly pulling Wendy off balance. "Cow!"
Winston bolts out of the kitchen, and Ryzer makes a disappointed little squawk. Gina abandons what she was doing and takes Ryzer from Wendy, grunting a little. "Doggy, honey," Gina corrects. "Dog."
Wendy sighs. "Don't even bother. Everything's a cow right now, except for what's a truck."
Generalization error, Misha thinks automatically.
"Hey, fudge-face," Denis says to Zach. To Ryzer, he adds (probably thinking it sounds less affectionate), "Hey, shrimp."
Zach slings the full bag onto Denis's lap. "Hey, jerk."
Ryzer tries to put his fingers in Gina's mouth. Gina grins and pretends to gnaw on him, with that odd adult tendency to play at cannibalism. "Nom nom," she teases, "gonna eat you up like candy. Sweet little baby."
"Brains," Ryzer drones. "Braaaains."
Wendy shoots a look at Zach, who pretends to see something interesting out the window. After a minute, she reaches over and pinches his side, an affectionate married gesture that unexpectedly twists Misha's heart. Misha sits back in his chair and returns to watching his cup, a safer prospect, though he is very aware of Zach slouching into a chair beside him. Wendy doesn't join him, and after a moment Misha hears her tromp up the stairs. To Jeremy's bedroom.
To Jeremy's bed.
He has no right to bristle. He is not bristling. But he hopes she can smell him on Jeremy's sheets.
The thing is, Misha knew why Vincent never took him to bed. There was Bess, for one, that great open wound like a shark bite on the side of a huge ancient whale, disrupting its majesty and slowly bleeding it to death. But there was also Lord Burton, Vincent's beloved Tim; they didn't sleep together, that Misha knows of, because of Tim's twitchy damage and Vincent's old grief. The want had been there for anyone to see, though, a cord that drew tight between them even on Tim's wedding day. So Misha couldn't take Vincent's chaste affection too personally.
Jeremy has Marisa, and Zach and Wendy, and that should be reason enough for Misha to remain a virgin. Should be.
Gina takes Ryzer to the cookie jar, which is apparently a good replacement for brains, because Ryzer stuffs one in his mouth and beams sloppily around it.
"How is he?" Zach asks Denis, voice pitched low. Which he would know if he hadn't left Jeremy alone in this deserted house, if he had just taken Jeremy into his home and his family instead of fucking him on the side like some common--
Misha gnaws on his hangnail until he tastes blood.
Denis shrugs. "Jogging. Lit out of here like his a-- like he was on fire a few minutes ago."
"Ah." Zach scowls at no one in particular, only flicking Gina a sidelong glance as she puts a mug of coffee in front of him. "Thanks, honey."
"Honey," Gina snorts, but she doesn't seem offended by Zach's pet-names or by his lack of interest. Which Misha notes, his stomach sinking; given that Zach and Wendy are having sex on the wrong side of the sheets with Jeremy, he'd assumed that Zach would be flirting with everything that breathed. That Zach seems faithful, aside from Jeremy, makes this an even harder sell.
Misha should be pleased that his master is being satisfied without him getting carpal tunnel or getting reamed. This is a mercy for everyone involved.
Zach gives the mug a last longing look, then pushes back from the table. "Yeah, I'll be right back. Gonna go fetch him."
Misha has never felt the pain of his useless leg so keenly. He wants to go with Zach to retrieve his (master) Jeremy. He wants to be able to run beside Jeremy in companionable silence, or to speak soothing words, or to make him laugh. Instead he has to let Zach, who already knows so much more of Jeremy in every sense, go in his stead.
"Bring back smokes," Denis suggests.
Zach flicks his ear, then pauses halfway out of his chair to peer at Misha. Too startled to avert his eyes, Misha peers back, and realizes that Zach's eyes are an eerie shade of green. Like sea-glass. An unexpected place for beauty, in this foul-mouthed stoner father who is Misha's competition.
Not that this is a competition.
Fuck.
Still poised too close to Misha, Zach asks, "How you doing, Mish? How's the knee?"
Vincent did not like nicknames. He did not tolerate the shortening of his own name to Vin or Vinnie or Vince; he likewise found 'Mish' beneath Misha's dignity and his own. It's strange, the things that remind Misha of the old man; his grief is raw and open, too easy to fall into. Misha is torn between fury and an unfamiliar urge to laugh. He swallows both and signs, Fine. You should retrieve Jeremy.
Zach quirks an eyebrow, as if he wants to pursue Misha like he's about to pursue Jeremy, but he nods and gets to his feet. He's as tall as Jeremy, and Misha has to crane his head back to maintain eye contact while he sits; he'd stand, but his leg hurts like a fiery ember is wedged behind the kneecap.
Take something for the pain, Zach signs, guitarist hands unfolding crane-like over the unwelcome words. It'll kick in by the time Jeremy's ready to go.
Misha can't quite wipe his scowl away. He is not Zach's to care for, not like some accessory of Jeremy's that must be attended to. He signs, Jeremy needs me.
He needs one less thing to worry about today, Zach signs back, unflinching. If I noticed, he'll see it too.
Fuck you, Misha thinks, fuck you and your advice, what do you know? But he does know, the bastard, Zach knows Jeremy better that Misha probably ever will, so Misha reaches in his jacket and uncaps the painkillers, popping one and swallowing it dry as he glares up at Zach.
Thank you, Zach signs with exaggerated emphasis, then looks at Ryzer, his expression warming and opening up. It's hard to dislike someone who looks at his child that way, though Misha has little experience with fathers to use as a barometer. "Ryz, you be good, okay? C'mere and talk to Uncle Misha."
Misha contemplates homicide. But before he can think of something cutting to say, Ryzer is shoving a slobbery cookie at Misha, and Zach is gone.
Author:
nilchancePairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set in
poisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder, and with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. There's also mention of child abuse, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree.The kitchen is nicer than Vincent's, Misha thinks, or at least homier. There are filmy curtains and such. There's Gina, with her stained apron and her messy hair, working at the stove top over something that smells delicious. Misha doubts that Jeremy will eat it, though; he's found that Jeremy seems to exist on coffee and snark. Which may explain why Jeremy likes Denis so well.
"He's running again," Gina tells Denis, still facing the stove. Misha knows she's telling Denis because Gina doesn't seem to tell Misha anything, though she was kind enough to make him brownies to show her weird sympathy regarding Vincent. She's sweet, so Misha won't leave her a sharply worded note about being mute, not deaf. "Should we..."
When her silence trails off, Denis shoots a blistering look at her back. "Should we what, hold an intervention? 'Gee, sorry your girl tried to pull a Sylvia Plath, but we're worried about your cardio routine.'"
"I don't mean it like that."
"Then how do you mean it?"
It's a bit like watching a tennis match. Misha stares into his mug of tea, rotating it slowly in its own perspiration, and feels Winston settle against his leg. The sound of the door opening brings them both to attention; Misha doesn't care to examine the similarities.
People emerge into the kitchen, none of whom are Jeremy. Misha identifies them as Zach and Wendy, the friendly (very friendly) couple from the night Vincent died. Wendy has Ryzer on her hip, and Zach has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The bag seems to have the accessories necessary for the upkeep of a toddler.
Ryzer (who is actually dressed, unlike the last time Misha saw him) sees Winston and throws out both chubby arms, nearly pulling Wendy off balance. "Cow!"
Winston bolts out of the kitchen, and Ryzer makes a disappointed little squawk. Gina abandons what she was doing and takes Ryzer from Wendy, grunting a little. "Doggy, honey," Gina corrects. "Dog."
Wendy sighs. "Don't even bother. Everything's a cow right now, except for what's a truck."
Generalization error, Misha thinks automatically.
"Hey, fudge-face," Denis says to Zach. To Ryzer, he adds (probably thinking it sounds less affectionate), "Hey, shrimp."
Zach slings the full bag onto Denis's lap. "Hey, jerk."
Ryzer tries to put his fingers in Gina's mouth. Gina grins and pretends to gnaw on him, with that odd adult tendency to play at cannibalism. "Nom nom," she teases, "gonna eat you up like candy. Sweet little baby."
"Brains," Ryzer drones. "Braaaains."
Wendy shoots a look at Zach, who pretends to see something interesting out the window. After a minute, she reaches over and pinches his side, an affectionate married gesture that unexpectedly twists Misha's heart. Misha sits back in his chair and returns to watching his cup, a safer prospect, though he is very aware of Zach slouching into a chair beside him. Wendy doesn't join him, and after a moment Misha hears her tromp up the stairs. To Jeremy's bedroom.
To Jeremy's bed.
He has no right to bristle. He is not bristling. But he hopes she can smell him on Jeremy's sheets.
The thing is, Misha knew why Vincent never took him to bed. There was Bess, for one, that great open wound like a shark bite on the side of a huge ancient whale, disrupting its majesty and slowly bleeding it to death. But there was also Lord Burton, Vincent's beloved Tim; they didn't sleep together, that Misha knows of, because of Tim's twitchy damage and Vincent's old grief. The want had been there for anyone to see, though, a cord that drew tight between them even on Tim's wedding day. So Misha couldn't take Vincent's chaste affection too personally.
Jeremy has Marisa, and Zach and Wendy, and that should be reason enough for Misha to remain a virgin. Should be.
Gina takes Ryzer to the cookie jar, which is apparently a good replacement for brains, because Ryzer stuffs one in his mouth and beams sloppily around it.
"How is he?" Zach asks Denis, voice pitched low. Which he would know if he hadn't left Jeremy alone in this deserted house, if he had just taken Jeremy into his home and his family instead of fucking him on the side like some common--
Misha gnaws on his hangnail until he tastes blood.
Denis shrugs. "Jogging. Lit out of here like his a-- like he was on fire a few minutes ago."
"Ah." Zach scowls at no one in particular, only flicking Gina a sidelong glance as she puts a mug of coffee in front of him. "Thanks, honey."
"Honey," Gina snorts, but she doesn't seem offended by Zach's pet-names or by his lack of interest. Which Misha notes, his stomach sinking; given that Zach and Wendy are having sex on the wrong side of the sheets with Jeremy, he'd assumed that Zach would be flirting with everything that breathed. That Zach seems faithful, aside from Jeremy, makes this an even harder sell.
Misha should be pleased that his master is being satisfied without him getting carpal tunnel or getting reamed. This is a mercy for everyone involved.
Zach gives the mug a last longing look, then pushes back from the table. "Yeah, I'll be right back. Gonna go fetch him."
Misha has never felt the pain of his useless leg so keenly. He wants to go with Zach to retrieve his (master) Jeremy. He wants to be able to run beside Jeremy in companionable silence, or to speak soothing words, or to make him laugh. Instead he has to let Zach, who already knows so much more of Jeremy in every sense, go in his stead.
"Bring back smokes," Denis suggests.
Zach flicks his ear, then pauses halfway out of his chair to peer at Misha. Too startled to avert his eyes, Misha peers back, and realizes that Zach's eyes are an eerie shade of green. Like sea-glass. An unexpected place for beauty, in this foul-mouthed stoner father who is Misha's competition.
Not that this is a competition.
Fuck.
Still poised too close to Misha, Zach asks, "How you doing, Mish? How's the knee?"
Vincent did not like nicknames. He did not tolerate the shortening of his own name to Vin or Vinnie or Vince; he likewise found 'Mish' beneath Misha's dignity and his own. It's strange, the things that remind Misha of the old man; his grief is raw and open, too easy to fall into. Misha is torn between fury and an unfamiliar urge to laugh. He swallows both and signs, Fine. You should retrieve Jeremy.
Zach quirks an eyebrow, as if he wants to pursue Misha like he's about to pursue Jeremy, but he nods and gets to his feet. He's as tall as Jeremy, and Misha has to crane his head back to maintain eye contact while he sits; he'd stand, but his leg hurts like a fiery ember is wedged behind the kneecap.
Take something for the pain, Zach signs, guitarist hands unfolding crane-like over the unwelcome words. It'll kick in by the time Jeremy's ready to go.
Misha can't quite wipe his scowl away. He is not Zach's to care for, not like some accessory of Jeremy's that must be attended to. He signs, Jeremy needs me.
He needs one less thing to worry about today, Zach signs back, unflinching. If I noticed, he'll see it too.
Fuck you, Misha thinks, fuck you and your advice, what do you know? But he does know, the bastard, Zach knows Jeremy better that Misha probably ever will, so Misha reaches in his jacket and uncaps the painkillers, popping one and swallowing it dry as he glares up at Zach.
Thank you, Zach signs with exaggerated emphasis, then looks at Ryzer, his expression warming and opening up. It's hard to dislike someone who looks at his child that way, though Misha has little experience with fathers to use as a barometer. "Ryz, you be good, okay? C'mere and talk to Uncle Misha."
Misha contemplates homicide. But before he can think of something cutting to say, Ryzer is shoving a slobbery cookie at Misha, and Zach is gone.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:17 pm (UTC)Oh, icon.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:18 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:26 pm (UTC)I think I adore Zach.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 08:52 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 09:01 pm (UTC)You're going to, right?
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 08:44 pm (UTC)Too smart, angry, bitter, and honest with himself for his own good. And it's that honesty that'll probably save him in the end, if it doesn't kill him first.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 02:53 pm (UTC)Misha is definitely one of those dudes that I like for his shiny brain, and then for his smexy self. Yes. Can you imagine chatting him up about politics or history or... *brainkinks*
Thank you, thank you.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 02:54 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 03:21 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 05:36 pm (UTC)Oh man, your icon. *hearts*
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 04:49 am (UTC)Thanks so much for the update!! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 05:35 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 09:08 am (UTC)being, however, that I am the sort of person who gives other people's children candy and toys that make obnoxious noises, who grins mockingly at people who are inexperienced with children and tell them that baby drool is cosmetic... I heartily approve. XD
Having the perspective shift happen slightly out of phase with linear time in the story adds this depth... everyone in this story is very, very human, and their bitterness and jealousy and exhaustion and care is delicious.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 07:16 pm (UTC)Thank you!
That middle road
Date: 2009-11-24 01:19 pm (UTC)Re: That middle road
Date: 2009-11-30 07:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-25 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 07:59 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 10:15 pm (UTC)