FIC: That Middle Road (25/48)
Apr. 4th, 2012 12:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: That Middle Road (25/48)
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.
Willful, Vincent used to call Misha, in mixed tones of pride and exasperation. Control freak, Adam used to say, exhaling smoke like a dragon.
Misha feels like neither, because as soon as he wakes, he wills himself to feign sleep and he fails. The long hiss of pain escapes before he can bite his lip; his knee jolts killing pain from his hip to his toes, which explains the dreams where a dog was gnawing at his bones. Immediately both conversation (Cate was saying something about Lamictal) and the steady stroke of Jeremy's hand through his hair stop.
"Hey, hey," Jeremy soothes. "Here, take some pills."
Misha takes the pills and swallows them with offered water, panting between sips. He jerks down the blanket and tries kneading the locked muscles of his thigh, which he can feel spasming beneath his fingers. The pain starts to ease by stubborn inches, still radiating downwards but not with the same intensity. Misha thinks he would murder someone for some Bengay.
Cate rises from her seat. "I'll get you some ice for that?"
"And heat too, if Wendy's got something," Jeremy says absently. "Thanks."
With a smile for both of them, Cate exits. She closes the door behind her.
"Do you mind?" Jeremy asks, nodding at Misha's calf. When Misha shrugs, he wraps his hands around Misha's shin, generously far from the kneecap. He massages with his thumbs, skillful and not hesitant, his hands radiating heat through Misha's pants. "Jeff busted his knee up. Sometimes this helps."
Misha briefly considers texting Jeff the words 'my Jeremy, mine, mine, mine', but dismisses it. That's not a given, considering the last 72 hours. As it is, he savors the massage for its potential to end, and the fact that it could be the last time he feels Jeremy's hands.
Then again, would Jeremy rub his leg if he was going to dismiss Misha from his service?
Misha considers and has to admit sourly that yes, Jeremy would do just that.
As if he hears what Misha's thinking, Jeremy says quietly, "I'm sorry about this."
Misha raises his eyebrows and bounces the conversation back by signing, Which this do you mean?
"Dragging you across the desert without sleep or pills for days." Jeremy gentles his approach, stroking in long shivery sweeps of his thumbs. "You're hurting now, and it's--"
I chose not to sleep, Misha signs fiercely over Jeremy's words. I chose not to stop to take pills. Don't take my choices from me, Jeremy, they're all that I have.
Except instead of fingerspelling Jeremy's whole name, Misha slips and uses a personal sign: the letter J spun around Misha's temple like the wild curls of Jeremy's hair, or like the gesture for madness.
Jeremy blinks at Misha's hands, and then smiles. The smile is as tender as Jeremy's hands, cradling Misha's hurt leg like a grounded bird. "No. That's not all you have."
They look at each other for a moment, as close as a kiss.
I chose to stay with you instead of anything I knew, Misha continues, shaping each sign into slow calligraphy so that Jeremy can't mistake his meaning. This is important. I chose you and I will choose you again and again. Send me away for drugging you if you want--
"Mish, you saved my life."
Or send me to work in the library instead of as your bodyslave, but I choose to stay as near you as I can. Misha pauses, flustered by how vulnerable he's made himself. He's run out of words and Jeremy is staring at him. Do you understand?
"You saved my life," Jeremy repeats. "But I thought... no. I was afraid you'd want to get away from me as soon as you could."
Well, Misha signs, that seems to be your default position.
"Heh. Touche." Ducking his head, Jeremy gives a rueful smile. A stray curl escapes and dangles in front of his face; he puffs it away. "You really want to stay my bodyslave?"
I choose to, yes.
"Well." Jeremy swallows, and Misha sees that he's touched. Grateful. It hurts Misha's heart. "I want you to stay, too. As long as you want."
Forever will do, Misha thinks, but he stops short of saying it. His heart is drumming away. If he tries to sign, his fingers may shake. Greatly daring, he reaches down and covers Jeremy's hand.
"Thank you for dropping my ass with horse tranquilizers," Jeremy says, his grin a tired shadow. "Nicest thing anybody's ever done for me."
You're welcome, Misha tells him. I ought to ask Cate for supplies, in case there's a next time.
"There shouldn't be. Cate's switching my meds." Jeremy pats Misha's good knee and climbs back up beside him, moving like they're on a waterbed instead of a foam mattress.
Dizzy with pills; the hurt in Misha's heart for him grows stronger, and he pushes it away before Jeremy can mistake it for pity.
Well. Misha starts to shape a dozen smartass answers, instead choosing, Maybe you could explain them to me.
"Of course." Jeremy turns his head towards Misha. "I'll need your help. You'll be keeping my meds and coming with me to appointments. Keeping me honest. Um. If you don't mind."
I don't mind, Misha says. I'm honored. Thank you.
Jeremy ducks his head again, but his grin seems less exhausted this time.
It feels like a halting waltz, the two of them hesitant and limping. It feels like their parallel lines both shifting just enough to eventually cross.
So Jeremy lays beside him, almost touching as he explains the new medications and the twice weekly appointments; beneath the mundane details, Misha sees a fragile new shoot that is Jeremy trying to save himself instead of everyone else. He's glad to see it, even as his knee throbs and he hears the drugs dulling Jeremy's voice down. It will pass.
They lay close, almost touching, the bed like a raft bearing them closer to ground.
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. Willful, Vincent used to call Misha, in mixed tones of pride and exasperation. Control freak, Adam used to say, exhaling smoke like a dragon.
Misha feels like neither, because as soon as he wakes, he wills himself to feign sleep and he fails. The long hiss of pain escapes before he can bite his lip; his knee jolts killing pain from his hip to his toes, which explains the dreams where a dog was gnawing at his bones. Immediately both conversation (Cate was saying something about Lamictal) and the steady stroke of Jeremy's hand through his hair stop.
"Hey, hey," Jeremy soothes. "Here, take some pills."
Misha takes the pills and swallows them with offered water, panting between sips. He jerks down the blanket and tries kneading the locked muscles of his thigh, which he can feel spasming beneath his fingers. The pain starts to ease by stubborn inches, still radiating downwards but not with the same intensity. Misha thinks he would murder someone for some Bengay.
Cate rises from her seat. "I'll get you some ice for that?"
"And heat too, if Wendy's got something," Jeremy says absently. "Thanks."
With a smile for both of them, Cate exits. She closes the door behind her.
"Do you mind?" Jeremy asks, nodding at Misha's calf. When Misha shrugs, he wraps his hands around Misha's shin, generously far from the kneecap. He massages with his thumbs, skillful and not hesitant, his hands radiating heat through Misha's pants. "Jeff busted his knee up. Sometimes this helps."
Misha briefly considers texting Jeff the words 'my Jeremy, mine, mine, mine', but dismisses it. That's not a given, considering the last 72 hours. As it is, he savors the massage for its potential to end, and the fact that it could be the last time he feels Jeremy's hands.
Then again, would Jeremy rub his leg if he was going to dismiss Misha from his service?
Misha considers and has to admit sourly that yes, Jeremy would do just that.
As if he hears what Misha's thinking, Jeremy says quietly, "I'm sorry about this."
Misha raises his eyebrows and bounces the conversation back by signing, Which this do you mean?
"Dragging you across the desert without sleep or pills for days." Jeremy gentles his approach, stroking in long shivery sweeps of his thumbs. "You're hurting now, and it's--"
I chose not to sleep, Misha signs fiercely over Jeremy's words. I chose not to stop to take pills. Don't take my choices from me, Jeremy, they're all that I have.
Except instead of fingerspelling Jeremy's whole name, Misha slips and uses a personal sign: the letter J spun around Misha's temple like the wild curls of Jeremy's hair, or like the gesture for madness.
Jeremy blinks at Misha's hands, and then smiles. The smile is as tender as Jeremy's hands, cradling Misha's hurt leg like a grounded bird. "No. That's not all you have."
They look at each other for a moment, as close as a kiss.
I chose to stay with you instead of anything I knew, Misha continues, shaping each sign into slow calligraphy so that Jeremy can't mistake his meaning. This is important. I chose you and I will choose you again and again. Send me away for drugging you if you want--
"Mish, you saved my life."
Or send me to work in the library instead of as your bodyslave, but I choose to stay as near you as I can. Misha pauses, flustered by how vulnerable he's made himself. He's run out of words and Jeremy is staring at him. Do you understand?
"You saved my life," Jeremy repeats. "But I thought... no. I was afraid you'd want to get away from me as soon as you could."
Well, Misha signs, that seems to be your default position.
"Heh. Touche." Ducking his head, Jeremy gives a rueful smile. A stray curl escapes and dangles in front of his face; he puffs it away. "You really want to stay my bodyslave?"
I choose to, yes.
"Well." Jeremy swallows, and Misha sees that he's touched. Grateful. It hurts Misha's heart. "I want you to stay, too. As long as you want."
Forever will do, Misha thinks, but he stops short of saying it. His heart is drumming away. If he tries to sign, his fingers may shake. Greatly daring, he reaches down and covers Jeremy's hand.
"Thank you for dropping my ass with horse tranquilizers," Jeremy says, his grin a tired shadow. "Nicest thing anybody's ever done for me."
You're welcome, Misha tells him. I ought to ask Cate for supplies, in case there's a next time.
"There shouldn't be. Cate's switching my meds." Jeremy pats Misha's good knee and climbs back up beside him, moving like they're on a waterbed instead of a foam mattress.
Dizzy with pills; the hurt in Misha's heart for him grows stronger, and he pushes it away before Jeremy can mistake it for pity.
Well. Misha starts to shape a dozen smartass answers, instead choosing, Maybe you could explain them to me.
"Of course." Jeremy turns his head towards Misha. "I'll need your help. You'll be keeping my meds and coming with me to appointments. Keeping me honest. Um. If you don't mind."
I don't mind, Misha says. I'm honored. Thank you.
Jeremy ducks his head again, but his grin seems less exhausted this time.
It feels like a halting waltz, the two of them hesitant and limping. It feels like their parallel lines both shifting just enough to eventually cross.
So Jeremy lays beside him, almost touching as he explains the new medications and the twice weekly appointments; beneath the mundane details, Misha sees a fragile new shoot that is Jeremy trying to save himself instead of everyone else. He's glad to see it, even as his knee throbs and he hears the drugs dulling Jeremy's voice down. It will pass.
They lay close, almost touching, the bed like a raft bearing them closer to ground.
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Date: 2012-04-06 05:49 pm (UTC)Great, amazing chapter. There is something inexplicable soft and soothing about these past two chapters which makes a delicious contrast with the struggles the characters face.
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Date: 2012-04-11 10:30 pm (UTC)*loves that Mish sees Jers fragile new shoot...wonderfully observant Mish*
Ref: That Middle Road
Date: 2012-05-23 04:25 pm (UTC)I have discovered several excellent, but abandoned stories. I am thankful to see that you are still working on this one! I put it in tracking, so I hope I get notified of updates...