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FIC: That Middle Road (23/?)
Title: That Middle Road (23/?)
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 rape, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree. Thank you, beanside and poisontaster, for the invaluable notes.
"How did you get Jeff to make you an Agent?"
Of course Gina asks Zach instead of waiting for Jeremy to wake up, as Zach is checking the kitchen in case he’s missed any of Misha’s meds.
"You're doing this now?" Zach pinches the bridge of his nose. The hangover headache has been digging into his brain all day, right along with the relief of finding Jeremy before anything major happened. "Seriously, wait a week."
Gina hunches her shoulders, all little and miserable, and tugs her sick-in-bed cardigan tighter. "I want to be an Agent," she says and adds, "Marisa's getting out next week and I'm going with her."
Yeah, Zach kind of figured that might be the problem. He swings the duffel bag of necessary stuff down off his shoulder, letting it thud down.
"You don't even know where she's going," Zach says.
Gina lifts her chin, defiant. "I've been visiting her at Applewood. We talked about it. She wants to go to Seattle."
Best place to overdose, Zach thinks, but he doesn't say it. He isn't a guy who kicks puppies, at least until the third date. "Uh-huh," he says.
Maybe if Gina bristled, it would be easier, but she only shrugs tiredly. "Somebody has to look after her, Z. Jeremy has so many people and she's alone."
"Wow, Gandhi, I didn't know you'd moved to LA."
"Don't be a bitch," Gina sighs, then pushes a hand through her hair and starts toying with the ends. It's a nervous tic that they've never really gotten out of her, and she's plenty nervous most of the time that Zach can see.
And yes, okay, the office that Jeremy trashed might say that this place is a little too chaotic for a girl so twitchy, but Marisa wears chaos like body armor.
"I'm not being a martyr," Gina tells the frayed ends of her hair. "I just... I want to follow her to Seattle. Or wherever. Wherever she goes. You get that, don't you?"
Given that Zach would follow Wendy into hell, yeah. He gets that. He gives her a look. “Don’t come crying to me if she fucks around on you.”
Gina shakes her head. “I won’t. I mean-- we won’t. It’s not like that.”
“Sure, tell it to somebody who didn’t hear Jeff’s whole ‘I’m not gonna fuck that’ line and dance with Jensen. Platonic never stays platonic around here.” Zach shuffles over to his laptop and pulls up the website that’s still bookmarked on his computer, a declaration of independence. “I give it a week.”
There's a new printer on the kitchen counter (because it'd look stupid sitting in the splintered remains of Jer's office) hooked up to his laptop. Zach retrieves the paper from the tray, takes Gina's hand and folds her fingers around the paperwork that'll make her an Agent.
"Nice music scene in Seattle," he says, before he sits down to print another copy for Marisa.
"I've heard that," Gina says, and smiles.
***
Zach ends up being the one to break it to Denis that Gina is going to Seattle.
Denis yells, curses, and finally pops open a beer and drinks it over the sink in sullen silence, which to Denis is like the stages of grief. "Don't let her get you into junk," he says to Gina, because Denis is the kind of guy who kicks puppies.
Gina tells him he's a fuckwit, then hugs him until his ribs creak.
Zach packs the rest of Marisa's shit and tries to figure out how he's going to break this to Jer.
***
When he gets back to Pasadena, Wendy is waiting up for him. She has coffee on, the smell of it strange in their house with darkness outside.
Wendy takes one look at him, smiles ruefully and holds her arms open for him. Zach puts the duffel down (not too loud, not with Misha crashed out on their sofa) and presses his face into the sweet-smelling curve of her neck. She strokes his hair and makes the sympathy sound that's usually reserved for Ryzer's hurts and bruises. She's prickly, his woman, and she has precious little pity for Zach; it's why he loves her like he does. But it's good to hear her sympathy, it soothes some part of him that hurt like a sunburn.
"Jer?" Zach asks, his voice muffled into her skin.
"Still out. Cate's with him, says he's probably just wiped." Wendy strokes his hair backwards, so Zach bites her neck. Not with too much intention, because every bed and flat surface in their house is occupied. She hums and shimmies her hips a little, then holds him at arm's length. "What's up?"
Zach tells her, keeping his voice pitched down, pouring himself some coffee. When he gets to the part about Gina being gone on the bitch, Wendy's scowl becomes sardonic; she would probably tear off a verbal chunk, but--
Misha bolts upright on the couch, looking electrocuted with his hair spiked on end. Pain jerks through him just as fast, and he hisses and doubles over the bad leg.
"Mish?" Wendy goes to him, snatching a bottle off the coffee table. She pushes them at him. "Here, take these for a start. Deep breaths."
For a start. Zach makes a mental note to keep Marisa away from Misha's stash, and to maybe spare some weed for the guy.
Misha shudders, still curled up, and takes the pills. Swallows them dry. Zach feels like he ought to look away, for his own comfort and for Misha's, but Misha coughs and he retrieves water for him anyway. Better some social squirming than letting him choke to death. As Misha drinks, Wendy starts getting more pills from more bottles and orders, "Babe, there's some Chinese in the fridge, can you get it for him?"
Misha straightens by stubborn, painful-looking inches and cranes around. He signs, a fast personal sign and then, catching himself, Jeremy?
"He's okay," Wendy soothes. "Sleeping. Cate's with him."
Misha looks at her with horror, then grabs his cane and tries to lever himself up. Just before he tips face-first to the floor, Wendy catches him. "Hey, hey... Z?"
Zach goes, trying not to show the sick feeling in his gut. They put Misha on the couch, plenty of space between him and Jeremy, plenty of freedom. Why the fuck doesn't anybody but Zach want the leash yanked off?
I want to be in the room, Misha signs, I'll sleep on the floor, but he needs me. Then, faster words still, I need him.
"You're not sleeping on the floor, dude," Zach tells Misha, and offers him an arm up. "Come on. I'll get you there."
Misha leans away, that narrow suspicion. I can walk.
"So walk," Zach says, and holds his arm out.
That was apparently the right thing to say, because Misha latches on to his arm like a barracuda. Zach slings Misha's arm around his neck and pulls him up, trying to ignore the choked noise Misha makes when he puts weight on the knee. It's tempting to make soothing noises, like coaxing a hurt dog, but Misha doesn't want sympathy.
At least that much they have in common.
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 rape, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree. Thank you, beanside and poisontaster, for the invaluable notes."How did you get Jeff to make you an Agent?"
Of course Gina asks Zach instead of waiting for Jeremy to wake up, as Zach is checking the kitchen in case he’s missed any of Misha’s meds.
"You're doing this now?" Zach pinches the bridge of his nose. The hangover headache has been digging into his brain all day, right along with the relief of finding Jeremy before anything major happened. "Seriously, wait a week."
Gina hunches her shoulders, all little and miserable, and tugs her sick-in-bed cardigan tighter. "I want to be an Agent," she says and adds, "Marisa's getting out next week and I'm going with her."
Yeah, Zach kind of figured that might be the problem. He swings the duffel bag of necessary stuff down off his shoulder, letting it thud down.
"You don't even know where she's going," Zach says.
Gina lifts her chin, defiant. "I've been visiting her at Applewood. We talked about it. She wants to go to Seattle."
Best place to overdose, Zach thinks, but he doesn't say it. He isn't a guy who kicks puppies, at least until the third date. "Uh-huh," he says.
Maybe if Gina bristled, it would be easier, but she only shrugs tiredly. "Somebody has to look after her, Z. Jeremy has so many people and she's alone."
"Wow, Gandhi, I didn't know you'd moved to LA."
"Don't be a bitch," Gina sighs, then pushes a hand through her hair and starts toying with the ends. It's a nervous tic that they've never really gotten out of her, and she's plenty nervous most of the time that Zach can see.
And yes, okay, the office that Jeremy trashed might say that this place is a little too chaotic for a girl so twitchy, but Marisa wears chaos like body armor.
"I'm not being a martyr," Gina tells the frayed ends of her hair. "I just... I want to follow her to Seattle. Or wherever. Wherever she goes. You get that, don't you?"
Given that Zach would follow Wendy into hell, yeah. He gets that. He gives her a look. “Don’t come crying to me if she fucks around on you.”
Gina shakes her head. “I won’t. I mean-- we won’t. It’s not like that.”
“Sure, tell it to somebody who didn’t hear Jeff’s whole ‘I’m not gonna fuck that’ line and dance with Jensen. Platonic never stays platonic around here.” Zach shuffles over to his laptop and pulls up the website that’s still bookmarked on his computer, a declaration of independence. “I give it a week.”
There's a new printer on the kitchen counter (because it'd look stupid sitting in the splintered remains of Jer's office) hooked up to his laptop. Zach retrieves the paper from the tray, takes Gina's hand and folds her fingers around the paperwork that'll make her an Agent.
"Nice music scene in Seattle," he says, before he sits down to print another copy for Marisa.
"I've heard that," Gina says, and smiles.
***
Zach ends up being the one to break it to Denis that Gina is going to Seattle.
Denis yells, curses, and finally pops open a beer and drinks it over the sink in sullen silence, which to Denis is like the stages of grief. "Don't let her get you into junk," he says to Gina, because Denis is the kind of guy who kicks puppies.
Gina tells him he's a fuckwit, then hugs him until his ribs creak.
Zach packs the rest of Marisa's shit and tries to figure out how he's going to break this to Jer.
***
When he gets back to Pasadena, Wendy is waiting up for him. She has coffee on, the smell of it strange in their house with darkness outside.
Wendy takes one look at him, smiles ruefully and holds her arms open for him. Zach puts the duffel down (not too loud, not with Misha crashed out on their sofa) and presses his face into the sweet-smelling curve of her neck. She strokes his hair and makes the sympathy sound that's usually reserved for Ryzer's hurts and bruises. She's prickly, his woman, and she has precious little pity for Zach; it's why he loves her like he does. But it's good to hear her sympathy, it soothes some part of him that hurt like a sunburn.
"Jer?" Zach asks, his voice muffled into her skin.
"Still out. Cate's with him, says he's probably just wiped." Wendy strokes his hair backwards, so Zach bites her neck. Not with too much intention, because every bed and flat surface in their house is occupied. She hums and shimmies her hips a little, then holds him at arm's length. "What's up?"
Zach tells her, keeping his voice pitched down, pouring himself some coffee. When he gets to the part about Gina being gone on the bitch, Wendy's scowl becomes sardonic; she would probably tear off a verbal chunk, but--
Misha bolts upright on the couch, looking electrocuted with his hair spiked on end. Pain jerks through him just as fast, and he hisses and doubles over the bad leg.
"Mish?" Wendy goes to him, snatching a bottle off the coffee table. She pushes them at him. "Here, take these for a start. Deep breaths."
For a start. Zach makes a mental note to keep Marisa away from Misha's stash, and to maybe spare some weed for the guy.
Misha shudders, still curled up, and takes the pills. Swallows them dry. Zach feels like he ought to look away, for his own comfort and for Misha's, but Misha coughs and he retrieves water for him anyway. Better some social squirming than letting him choke to death. As Misha drinks, Wendy starts getting more pills from more bottles and orders, "Babe, there's some Chinese in the fridge, can you get it for him?"
Misha straightens by stubborn, painful-looking inches and cranes around. He signs, a fast personal sign and then, catching himself, Jeremy?
"He's okay," Wendy soothes. "Sleeping. Cate's with him."
Misha looks at her with horror, then grabs his cane and tries to lever himself up. Just before he tips face-first to the floor, Wendy catches him. "Hey, hey... Z?"
Zach goes, trying not to show the sick feeling in his gut. They put Misha on the couch, plenty of space between him and Jeremy, plenty of freedom. Why the fuck doesn't anybody but Zach want the leash yanked off?
I want to be in the room, Misha signs, I'll sleep on the floor, but he needs me. Then, faster words still, I need him.
"You're not sleeping on the floor, dude," Zach tells Misha, and offers him an arm up. "Come on. I'll get you there."
Misha leans away, that narrow suspicion. I can walk.
"So walk," Zach says, and holds his arm out.
That was apparently the right thing to say, because Misha latches on to his arm like a barracuda. Zach slings Misha's arm around his neck and pulls him up, trying to ignore the choked noise Misha makes when he puts weight on the knee. It's tempting to make soothing noises, like coaxing a hurt dog, but Misha doesn't want sympathy.
At least that much they have in common.