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showmethedestiel · 7 years

Text

Like I said; I don’t like Hospitals

Chapter Twelve

[Masterlist]

Summary: You help Misha while he’s going through a hard time. The two of you quickly become friends, but will it lead to something more in such trying circumstances?

Words: 2,714

Pairing: Misha/Reader

“Y/N, can you come here for a sec?” Misha calls through from the kitchen.

You wander through to see him on his phone, leaning against the countertop. “What’s up?” You ask, taking an apple from the fruit bowl.

“I kinda need to talk to you about something.” He sighs.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s nothing bad.” Misha chuckles, “It’s just that Darius finished editing the episode of Cooking Fast and Fresh with West, and all the good bits have you in them.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want my permission to post it?”

“Well, yes. But it’s more than that. I’m a public figure whose wife died recently and now I’m living with this beautiful girl who clearly loves my kids, who I film retching into my toilet.” Misha chuckles. “People are gonna assume stuff.” He hesitates, “And unfortunately you might get shit for it.”

“Do you mind?” You ask, taking a bite of the apple.

Misha shakes his head, “Not if you don’t.” He pauses as if he’s thinking, “Darius suggested it might be easier to go public at this point.”

You consider this for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. If that’s best, I’m cool with it.”

Misha raises an eyebrow, “You sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure.” You smile, walking over to wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, after all.”

Misha smirks and leans down to kiss you, before taking your arms and moving them from behind his neck.

You give him a confused look, before he takes a bite of your apple, smirking.

“So,” He says, “You wanna see the tweet?” He walks over to his laptop on the table.

“You’re doing it over Twitter?” You laugh, following him.

Misha shrugs, “It’s my preferred method of communication.” He turns the laptop to face you, “Here.” He says.

On the screen there’s a picture you’ve never seen before, and didn’t see anyone take at the time. It’s of you and Misha two nights ago among the trees. You’re looking around in awe, and he’s looking at you with pure adoration.

“Jensen took it when we first got there.” Misha explains, watching you to gauge your reaction.

“Well damn,” You say, nodding in approval. “We look good.” You grin and Misha smiles widely.

You look at the screen again and read the caption:

Found: one girlfriend; short, adorable. Please claim if yours (although if you do – I know you’re lying because she’s mine.)

“Nice.” You laugh.

A few hours later Misha posts both the announcement and the episode of Cooking Fast and Fresh with West. For the rest of the day you very carefully avoid going on any social media, but once you’re lying in bed next to Misha curiosity gets the better of you.

You pick up your phone and sign into your personal Twitter – where, of course, people have found you already. You have a couple dozen Misha fan accounts following you, but that’s manageable so far.

You go to Misha’s Twitter, mentally bracing yourself to go through the replies on his post.

There’s the typical “dad” and “marry me”, but once you get past those, you see

You look so happy!

Aww, y’all are so cute together

She is so pretty!!!

Slayy Misha

You cover your grin with your hand, the positivity overwhelming you.

“Babe, you okay?” Misha asks, noticing you.

You nod slowly, “Have you seen the comments on your post?” You ask, smiling.

Misha grins in relief, “Yeah – they love you.” He laughs.

You go back to scrolling through Twitter – there are a few tabloids calling you Misha’s Rebound but they don’t ruin the fan’s reaction.

After a few minutes you ask, “Hey, do you mind if I tweet a photo of us?”

“Sure – just no nudes.” Misha teases. “Although your social media will get mobbed.”

“Yeah, I know.” You say, looking through your pictures. “I’m prepared.”

Eventually you settle on a picture you took a few days ago, of you and Misha making faces at the camera. You caption it –

Hello world. You might have heard of my adorkable bf Dmitri.

You put your phone down and wait for Misha to check his Twitter. You watch him as his phone buzzes, he smiles – then he glares at you.

“Come on,” He laughs, “Dmitri? Really?”

You grin and shrug. “You have my Twitter notifications on?”

Misha shrugs and murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Later you notice he retweeted your photo anyway. You scroll through some of the comments and laugh when you see:

Yes! A new source of adorable Misha photos – score.

You decide to reply with:

True. There will be a lot of Misha pics from me; it is my true purpose in life.

You toss your phone away and look over to see Misha asleep, you frown – it’s late but you’re not tired in the slightest.

You carefully slip out of bed after turning the lights off, and wander down the hall, wondering what to do at midnight on a Tuesday.

You make your way into the living room, where there’s still a small pile of your things that no one put away, kneeling down you notice your sketchbook, a few canvases and paints.

Hmm.

You fill a jar with water and take everything upstairs, turning on the dimmest light in the bedroom. There’s nowhere to sit with a good view of Misha, so you move a few of your things off the dresser in the corner of the room and clamber on top.

Here you have a good angle of Misha’s sprawled out form, half under - half on top of the covers – his bedhead hair sticking up at angles on the pillow, and the sinews of his toned back emphasised by the warm, low light.

You sketch out his form, and then begin to paint. Art runs in your family – but you had never considered it more than a casual hobby; something you’d do at weekends, or if a friend asked. That wasn’t to say you weren’t good – you were very good, but art had never seemed like a real future for you.

You end up painting for hours - into the early morning, until pale morning sun begins flowing through the curtains; ruining your lighting.

You squint through your tired eyes, inspecting your work. You’ve always been a perfectionist when it came to your work – but it is perfect.

Exhausted, you place the painting haphazardly onto the dresser and slide off the hard wood surface, collapsing into bed next to Misha.

Misha doesn’t wake you when he gets up to drive the kids to school, instead letting you sleep until midday.

When you finally wander into the kitchen, yawning, Misha’s at the table – on his laptop. In front of him is your painting from last night. You’re sincerely taken aback – seeing as you genuinely forgot you’d made it in your weird, sleep-deprived state. “Morning.” You say, coming over.

Misha looks up, startled. “Morning Y/N, did you paint this?” He asks, gesturing at the painting.

You nod casually, getting a bowl from the cupboard and turning back to face him.

Misha’s staring at you incredulously, “Y/N this is incredible – I didn’t know you could paint!” He exclaims.

You shrug, “It’s just a hobby.” You bring your newly made cereal back to the table and sit across from Misha, taking another look at your painting.

It’s good – better than you remembered.

“You should paint more – this is fucking amazing.” He says sincerely.

“Hm.” You say, taking a spoonful of cornflakes. “Maybe I will.”

The next morning Misha comes back into the kitchen after dropping the kids off at school and sighs dramatically.

“What’s up?” You ask, putting the kettle on to make tea.

“Work wants me to come back soon; which I don’t mind – I’m kinda looking forward to going back - but it means moving back up to Washington – Jared and Jensen left yesterday, and…” He trails off, frowning.

“What?”

“Well it’s just… Vicki always used to look after the kids when I was gone, but now… I’m gonna have to get a nanny or something.” He flops down onto a chair.

“Well…” You start hesitantly, before sighing. “I think we should have a conversation.” You say reluctantly before adding, “Like a real, adult conversation.” You take a seat next to Misha.

“Okay…”

“So, you’re gonna be gone sometimes – the kids need looked after. Right now I’m taking time off work with a personal emergency, but I’m meant to be back next week.” You state, absent-mindedly playing with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Y/N, do you like your job?” Misha asks abruptly.

You shrug, “It’s just a job.”

“Do you like painting?” He continues,

“Well, yeah.” You say, starting to regret starting this conversation. “But it isn’t sustainable – I wouldn’t make enough to live off my art…”

“Which is where I come in.” Misha interrupts. “I think you would make more than enough to live off, because your stuff is fucking amazing, but even if you don’t…” He trails off.

“Misha no.” You say firmly.

He raises his hands in defence, “It’s just accommodation.” He says, “And food. And it would give you time to look after the kids… It’s just a suggestion. Think about it. Okay?”

You sigh, “Okay, I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes. “I guess it would mean West and Maison wouldn’t need a nanny…”

“Exactly! That’s the attitude.” Misha chuckles, standing. “Plus…” He adds, “We have a spare room up North that would look incredible as a studio.”

“Stop.” You laugh, standing to cover Misha’s mouth with your hand.

He just grins, “I’ve been wanting to do some renovating – it’s a perfect excuse.”

“Are you serious about all this?” You ask.

“Yes.” Misha says simply, moving your hand to lean down and kiss you softly.

Misha has to go back to the set of Supernatural a short three days later. In those three days, you quit your job and Misha packs the both his car and your mini with things for the move.

You sigh, taking a step back to admire your work. Your car is filled to the brim with clothes, bags, food and your belongings.

Misha’s driving the kids because he “didn’t want to subject you to that hell”, and you’re following him up to Bellingham – stopping overnight in Medford, Oregon. You’re setting off early tomorrow.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Misha asks, coming to stand beside you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You chuckle, slightly nervously. “I’ve never driven this far before.”

“It’ll be fine, as long as you’re stocked up on coffee, snacks and good music – you’re good. Just be glad you don’t have to deal with those monsters.” He gestures at West; currently chasing Maison along the sidewalk.

“That I am glad of.” You say, genuinely relieved.

The four of you stop at a hotel overnight, which is stressful because the kids have so much pent up energy. Luckily, you and Misha do not have any energy – so you basically pass out as soon as you see the bed.

As the sun’s setting on the second day, you see that heaven-sent road sign – “Welcome to Bellingham”. You breathe a sigh of relief and follow Misha’s car to a navy house, looking out onto the marina.

You park and get out of the car, stretching as you walk over to Misha – who’s doing much the same.

“How was that?” He asks.

“I’m sore, sweaty and exhausted. So I’d say it went better than expected.” You say, opening the back door to retrieve a sleeping Maison.

Misha takes West and leads you in through the front door and up the stairs to the kids room. You tuck Maison in and follow Misha to the master bedroom, not even bothering to undress before collapsing onto the soft, white blankets.

“We’ll unpack the cars tomorrow.” Misha mumbles, crawling under the covers beside you.

You wake up early – before anyone else, so decide to look around a bit. The view out of the bedroom window is a stunning picture of water glistening in the morning light.

After taking a shower, you change into a robe and wander downstairs to find the kitchen – deciding to make pancakes, you get out some plates and a pan, but realise all the food is in cool-bags in the car.

You sigh and wander outside, grabbing a few bags of food and some clothes for everyone.

“Do I smell pancakes?” Misha says, appearing at the kitchen door.

“That’s why I admire you darling – your good nose.” You tease, leaving the pancakes to wander over and kiss the tip of Misha’s nose.

Misha scrunches up his face before pulling you in by your hips and kissing your lips.

“Mm,” You hum, breaking away. “Pancakes!” You say, skipping back to the stove.

Misha chuckles, following you. “Are the kids not up yet? That’s weird.”

You shrug, “Peaceful though.”

“True.” He laughs, “They might lynch us if they miss pancakes though.”

“Good point – our lives are in serious danger, you should wake them.

Misha has to go to work that afternoon, which means – after unpacking the cars – the rest of the morning is spent showing you where everything is, how everything works and what to do if something goes wrong.

“I’ve got it Mish.” You laugh, batting his hand away from one of the many dials on the electrical box. “I’m not gonna need to use any of this stuff.”

Misha sighs, “Fine. I’ll be back late tonight though – and if anything happens-“

“Mish.” You cut him off. “I know, you said. I’ll call. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Remember to feed the chickens.” He adds, kissing you cheek. “I’d better get going, have you got this?”

“Have fun at work babe.” You say, following him to the front door. “Say hi to Jared and Jensen for me. Go knock everyone’s socks off.” You smirk, kissing him before he goes out to his car.

You’re checking your phone on the couch once you’ve fed, read to, and put to bed the kids that evening.

You notice that basically the entire cast of Supernatural – who you may or may not have googled - have congratulated you and Misha on Twitter.

You smile and get to replying to everyone, as well as answering a few of the fans questions.

After that, you go to check out the room Misha said you could use for art – it’s spacious and lets in plenty of natural light. There’s very little furniture in it, aside from a wooden table and a few chairs. You bring all your art supplies in, dumping them on the table. Your sketchbook falls open on one of your best pieces – it’s of your sister, dancing with one of her ex-boyfriends. You smile, and briefly consider posting it online – to gauge the reaction – but decide to call your sister and make sure she’s cool with it first.

“Hey Y/N.” She answers.

“Hey.” You say, subconsciously doodling on the table. “Oh, first things first – I’m in Washington.”

“The state?” She asks, surprised.

“Yes. Misha had to go back to work, so I went with him.”

“Right. Of course.” She says, laughing. “I saw that you went public on Twitter – people even found me you know.”

“Ah. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly. “But um, I was wondering if you’d mind if I published one of my drawings of you?”

Beth sighs. “I guess not – the one of me dancing with Liam? Yeah, it’s good.”

“Yeah. Misha convinced me to start doing shit with my art.” You chuckle.

“Huh, give that man an award – I’ve been trying to do that for years. Anyway – I’d better go. Have fun in Washington.”

“Bye Beth.” You say, hanging up.

The drawing is just a taster, so you take a photo of it and post it to Twitter with the caption:

Does anyone know why this happened when I put a pencil to paper?? Is it cursed?

Immediately a hoard of your new followers comment on “this is amazing” and “she can draw too? Damn”. You smile to yourself and put your phone down, deciding to start another painting; this time of Misha and his kids. You pull up the reference image on your laptop, roll up your sleeves and get started on the large canvas.

Chapter Thirteen

#Supernatural RPF #fanfiction #misha collins #misha x reader #fluff #misha collins/reader #art

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