RPF: "Courting"

[cyus]

Title: Courting
Characters/Pairing: Supernatural RPF Jared/Misha
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3800 words
Summary: Pranks escalate, and even if dildos in neon pink aren't Misha's color, the notion behind them is utterly seductive and irresistible.
Notes: Written for the team_free_love New Beginnings commentfic fest here. Beta'd by blue_fjords.

Misha scrawled 'Dear Jared' on a paper napkin, drew a giant dick underneath, then balled it up and pitched it across the trailer towards the trash, missing by approximately an arm's length plus two fingers. He pulled a face and gave the offending napkin the finger as he leaned back on his chair, latest script revisions sliding off his thigh to the floor in a heap of loose pages. The offending piece of nefarious intent sat in the middle of his table, tag still tied around its foot. It would be ingenious if it wasn't quite so annoying. Glitter dildos in neon pink were a) so nineties and b) clashed with everything from his underwear to his hair.

"Rise and shine, sunshine!" The knock to his trailer door was obnoxious, the voice even more so and Jared's grinning face tripled the offense into puppies on bicycles with ice cream cones territory.

"Jared," Misha replied, voice dragging into Castiel register as he inched his foot forward and angled for the napkin. Stealth-angled, of course. Jared's gaze followed his squiggling toes and Misha stilled, straightened, picked up the pages off the floor, pretended at normal.

"How did you sleep, honey?" Jared twitched his eyes like he was trying seductive for fifteen year old girls.

"The alarm went off. In the building." Misha could have used a coffee about an hour ago, eyes burning with fatigue. "It turns out, quite mysteriously, that someone had tripped it." Jared nodded an 'uh-huh' quite interestedly. "It turns out that someone tripped it and left, shall I say, a gift? The cop was rather puzzled when he handed it to me at three in the morning as I stood there in my- in-" Misha waved his hand and broke off. There was no need to get into his sleeping attire lest he'd find it on youtube in a few weeks. He glanced pointedly at the dildo on the table and flicked it with his finger. "'Dear Misha'," he read from the tag. "'I thought I'd return this to you. Would hate for you to miss your favourite toy.'"

Jared's straight face broke into dimples, then teeth. "Your face!" he said, then skipped down the steps of the trailer, full belly laughing outside.

Misha closed his fingers around the sparkling plastic dick and rubbed over the head thoughtfully, kicking at the napkin still on the floor. He only missed the trash by a hand's width that time.

***

He was a genius. Not theory of relativity, revised or otherwise, or ending the famine in Bangladesh genius but he was very damn close. It had only cost him a few hours of sleep and his favorite pair of jeans when he'd had to stunt roll behind a fence to escape the lights of a passing car. Worth it though, worth it.

"You little shit, Collins!"

Jared didn't bother with the knocking, Misha didn't bother hiding the glee exploding in his chest. The bags under his eyes shoved into his own peripheral vision and made the world seem very small and narrow and his stomach was rolling with acid to stay awake, but this moment of triumph made him pump the air.

"Got-cha," Misha enunciated carefully and glanced outside.

Jared's car was parked in his usual spot (dick), the hood decorated with a giant man with giant muscles and the smallest dick. 'I call him Mr Weewee' it said with an arrow pointing to the world's smallest dick on the world's most giant man.

Misha bounced on his toes, buffed his nails. "I spent an hour on the hair. Did you see the hair? I have to admit it's tricky to get it just right. To achieve that flow of perfection and-"

The thunder in Jared's eyes couldn't quite keep his twitching lips at bay. "You owe me a paint job."

Misha pointed to himself. "You owe me hours of my life that this has just been eating up." Misha pulled the sparkle dildo from his pocket and licked a long line from base to tip. "Want to switch?"

Jared's eyes bulged a little, then he narrowed them and stepped forward, grabbing Misha's wrist and pulling it closer. Before Misha could think more than Fuck. Tongue. Lips. Jared had sucked the tip of the dildo into his mouth, lips stretching around the plastic. He pulled off with a wet slurp, grinned. "That's a thousand bucks," he said as he sauntered out of the trailer, got into the car with Mr Weewee on the hood and drove off, music blasting from the speakers.

***

"Hey, Misha, just in-"

"-case," Misha finished the sentence and held out his hand, eyes rolling when the production assistant dropped a condom, this one ribbed, into his palm. "Very funny, by the way," Misha called after her. "Really, it's been a hilarious day with all your support."

Half the crew turned to give him funny looks and he waved the condom at them and smiled at them broadly, engaging laser eyes of instant death and world destruction that could still be felt in Chernobyl and dropped the condom on the heap of the all-colours, all-tastes, all-shapes and all extra large on his chair.

Jared was on his day off and, funny as it was, it paled in comparison to everything that had happened before, and Misha couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. This was as good as a forfeit, a 'sorry, what you did to my car could never be beat when the crew had a laugh for days and still call for Mr Weewee on the cast list'. So really, Misha thought, he should take the stack of condoms and declare himself the unanimous winner of their little pissing contest if Jared thought his little primary school tricks did anything but give him enough condoms to last until their use-by date.

"You don't think that's a bit weird?" Jensen asked between takes when Misha turned over a condom in the palm of his hand. He shrugged. It was ... pitiful, if anything.

When the director called wrap, Misha gathered his condoms and accepted another one from the camera guy, thanks very much there, Joe, and carried his bounty to his trailer.

Naked store window mannequins stood three rows deep and running the length of his trailer in the mud of their trailer park. The crew stood around them, pointing and having a good old laugh, opening their ranks for Misha and his armful of condoms to walk through. Each of the mannequins had a strap-on dildo around their middle, in neon pink and deepest black and all colours of the gayest rainbow between, in sparkle and with nobs, made from plastic, wood, glass and metal. Each of the mannequins wore a wig and the creepiest plastic Jared face Misha had ever seen.

"Just in case you need it," one of the crew said to him as he dropped another condom onto Misha's armful and clapped him on the back.

Misha pushed past the mannequins, catching on dildos left and right to make for his trailer door.

That's how you do the hair, it said on a note.

"Be sure to take them all home," someone called. The lot of them laughed.

The unanimous triumph blipped out of existence as he was considering the practicalities of transporting 30 dildo-ed mannequins clear across Vancouver. His phone vibrated, and Misha fumbled for it, dropping the condoms on the steps. Having fun yet? J

***

"I- what?"

"I thought it rather impressive, rather, dare I say, daring, in fact." Richard was snacking on a carrot. "The best yet. Champ." He clapped him on the back.

"What, dude?" Jared sipped his coffee, confused expression on his face.

The glee in Misha's chest (nevermind the slight quibbles of hesitation and, well, it would be called guilt if he stopped to examine it in the glistening stream of daylight, but then again, he wasn't) expanded to near giddiness and he fumbled his paper coffee cup long enough for Jared to shoot him a questioning glance.

"Fumbly hands," Misha called across the room. "You know me."

Jared and Richard got called on set. Misha licked the coffee off his hand and pulled his phone from his pocket with the other.

Misha makes noises like a baby koala when he... , he typed into his twitter window, caffeine rush messing up his intrepid thumb-typing skills more than once before he hit post. The replies were instantaneous. Misha stuffed the phone back into his pocket and spent the next thirty minutes until his call time decorating a paper napkin with Jared's name a giant dick on it for entertainment, unable to stop grinning as he slogged down his coffee.

Genius level: seriously heightened to just underneath Hawking.

"You better call him on it," Jim said as Misha walked on set, Jensen and Jared preparing the last few takes on their scene.

"Huh?" Misha wriggled into Castiel's trenchcoat, letting make-up and costume straighten him out.

"You checked your twitter yet?"

"Oh. Nah, forgot my phone at the hotel. Silly, I know, I know. I was expecting a call too but some of these days, Jim, some of these days we have to build a united front against the advances of our technological overlords and find our calm spot in ourselves." He nodded sagely and clapped Jim on the shoulder as he sauntered to the camera folks, looking to bum another of the good coffees off the crew.

He turns me on when he talks like Castiel, Misha wrote in a break, sneaking a photo of Jared's impressive crotch, shaky face shot part-and-parcel of his ingenuity even if deliberately photocam was nigh impossible to reproduce without photoshop. Passable, if he could say so himself though.

Richard walked on set, phone out, when Misha returned from the loos, Castiel's trenchcoat having survived yet another pee break unsoiled, miracles never ceased.

"You might want to consider," Richard said to Jared, "just hypothetically speaking of course, and far be it from me to involve myself in this-" He glanced at Misha across the room. Misha waved with his cucumber sandwich then had to hunt down the slices that had gone flying, making sure that all his assets were on full display as he crawled about the floor. "But a word of advice, to maybe, just tone it down?" He lifted his hands before Jared could get in a word. "Not telling you what to do though. I'm supportive of every- and anything. Puppies, ponies, buttplugs, it's all good with me."

"What the fuck?" Jared said, turning to Jensen when Richard walked off. Jensen shrugged and turned back to his script.

The cucumbers in sandwiches were the fruits of the best God on the planet yet, Misha figured, juicy and wet and oh so tasty as they slid down his throat like victory.

@spnlover69 I'm bigger than he is Misha typed on the other side of the thin set walls, then casually walked across to Jared. "Hey, that line, here," he pointed on Jared's script, holding his phone underneath the pages to hopefully score the perfect picture of both their crotches. "I'll try to do it defensive, what do you think? If I go defensive on 'I shouldn't think so, Sam' then you can be all RAWRTIGER on yours."

Jared shrugged, sipping his coffee on the side and gave a 'yeah, sure' nod, as Misha's fingers uploaded the picture blind and hit send. Technology and he, they were fornicating like bunny rabbits during a full moon. Silently and with adequate protection of course.

He was shrugging out of Castiel's layers upon layers in his trailer, victory-hop-dancing on one foot when the door to his trailer burst open, catching him in compromising underwear and very little else with his foot in his hand attempting a prima ballerina routine.

"You. Will pay," Jared said, his own phone in hand, eyes wild and aghast while the laughter from the crew sounded from outside the trailer.

"Booyah," Misha replied and finished his little pirouette on demi-pointe near perfectly while Jared slammed the door into the lock.

***

"I'd murder for cheese pizza." Misha dropped his head back, waiting for the wee hours of the night shoot to pass into morning so he could drag his carcass of a body into bed. He was rigged up with stunt cables and someone kept tugging at his legs and repositioning his mark amongst the sea of blue and red of Jared's and Jensen's marks all over the floor.

"Dude, wake up." Jensen's elbow nudged into Misha's side and he badly hid another yawn behind his hand. World could come crashing down around him in a shower of Edward Cullen in lifesize standups and he wouldn't notice anything amiss with that picture.

"Awake. I'm awake," he snarked back. "Did you know that the longest time a-"

"Shut up, dude."

Misha frowned. "No, wait, it gets interesting. The longest time that-"

"Jared. Shut him up." Jensen wriggled his foot on his mark.

Misha got pulled closer to Jared by a production assistant. "I'm making intellectual conversation, in case you'd failed to take note of-" Jensen's glare of doom rivaled exactly nothing. Misha tried the laser eyes in return but Jensen didn't budge.

Jared smirked as he pulled something from his jeans. "Look what Daddy's thought to bring to keep little Misha entertained," he said in the most annoyingly embarrassing babyvoice as he dangled Misha's iPod in front of him, earbuds wrapped around his fingers. He pushed them into Misha's ears as Misha still tried to fight him off with hands and feet and his sharp little teeth catching on Jared's wrist. It gave Jared an outraged expression and both of them a 'Settle down' from production.

"I'm not in the mood for-" Misha managed before Jared had pressed play, then the Supernatural set dropped away to

'I squeeze my fingers around your cock, so big, so hard, it makes my mouth water to suck you down. You're so wet for me and I get so hard for you,' Jared's voice came from the earbuds and Misha stared down at a picture of Jared, chest showing, jeans low on his hips appearing on the screen of his iPod. 'I bend you over for me and push the dildo into your ass, fuck you with it...' The picture changed to the jeans slipping lower, showing the first curl of pubic hair.

Misha's world tilted within that framework of sleep-deprived existence and caffeine-stomach and his blood drained from his face, pushed into his face and pooled into his cock. He gasped out a whimper when Jared on the recording said 'suck you deep' with stress on the k like he'd watched too much porn in hotel rooms.

The crew stopped what they were doing, stared at him. Jensen was laughing. "-do you have on your iPod?" Misha heard when he ripped the earbuds from his ears, thumb ratcheting the small button to loud in a vain attempt to make it stop. '-make you come like a good little whore.' sounded tinny from the earbuds, voice unrecognizable.

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Freak," he said.

"No, really, Misha," Jared joined in, shaking his head.

"But- but-" Misha pressed at the buttons, forcing it to turn off. The crew went about their way again, whispering among themselves.

"Gotcha," Jared breathed into Misha's ear, then moved back to his mark, grinning at the production assistant who made sure he stood right.

Clearly the world and sleep deprivation had come up to work against him, Misha thought, standing there with his pink iPod and flashing pictures of Jared just underneath his thumb, Jared's incessant smirk coming from the side. Random acts of cruelty. Was this karma?

***

Revenge was so simple it was close to cucumber sandwiches in delight. Misha waited until he was awake again, sanity levels approaching normal and the dust had settled with Jared making kissing noises in his direction only for half the morning before Jensen told him to cut it out and Jared curbed his tendencies with his tail between his legs.

Stealth-level requirements: medium, but he had practice.

The first print out, Jared's low slung jeans and the lack of shirt in high-definition on glossy paper ended up on the production office wall. I'm so sexy scrawled across his stomach, pointing an arrow downwards. "Shhh," Misha motioned with a finger to his lips and whistled to himself as he walked across to the services, taping a row of fewer and fewer clothes around the offerings of jam and fruit and bread and candy bars. He didn't exactly get caught during all this, even if the tape was sticky and refused to budge when he was taping the last one down and he had to high-tail it around the nearest trailer, nearly tripping on Castiel's coat and faceplanting into the mud. That would have been unattractive.

The naked ones, he didn't get to those until after the lunch break.

Jared's illustrated recording of Fucking Misha Collins Up The Ass as it had been so conveniently titled had been an hour long. Misha may or may not have listened to it more than once, for education's sake and because Jared's voice could drop registers they never caught on film during the production. A picture for every minute and the clothes had been gone by the halfway point.

Suck me, Misha had printed in block letters next to Jared's cock on the one he slipped just in front of Jensen's mark before the boys returned from their break.

"What the fuck, dude?" Jensen yelled across the room.

Jared hung up his phone as he walked over and stared over Jensen's shoulder at the floor. "Wha- what. Fuck." He bent down and ripped the print-out off the floor, coloring a deep, satisfying scarlet, if Misha might say so, as he folded the print-out up and shoved it into his backpocket, eyes roving across the set. Misha grinned and taped the next in the collection to Jared's chair. Legs spread, shot artfully done from behind with dangling balls. Jizz ♥, Misha had added with an arrow and walked off just as Jared was rushing over to rip the photo off the chair.

Jared was determined but Misha had routine stealth and the right face, if he may say so, on his side as he sneaked between trailers and scouted the crucial locations Jared wouldn't think to look at immediately.

"Missed one, honey," one of the crew shouted across the yard, waving one at Jared that had Lick up all my sweet honey juice in teenage girl handwriting (Misha had made an effort here, the night had been well-spent).

He ran out of print-outs by early evening, but the girls from make-up were kept amused with the ones they'd taped to the trailer door and had refused Jared to even think of touching, proud cock on display.

"You're so wrong, dude," Jensen said as he came up behind Misha and they both watched a flustered Jared beg to collect the print-out.

"All in the name of the game," Misha said proudly.

"Yeah? You're awfully close to getting burned, buddy."

***

Misha had expected some retaliation, something epic to threaten the status of epicness of Lord Of The Rings in endless hours of mind-numbing cinema experience. He was prepared, all battle stations manned and ready. Minions collected and riled for the second-hand showdown.

Jared refused to talk to him for as long as the girls from make-up displayed all his manliness in their window and so Misha was the one who had to go begging and apologize with good coffee and promises to let them dress him up in skirts and a bra and parade him around the set. It wasn't as if his pride had anywhere to sink, and the triumph had been worth all that.

The night shoot was still in progress at eight in the morning, the director cursing the sunlight fucking up the last of the takes and relocating some of the shoot to the sound stage to finish it up for the day. Misha dragged himself into his trailer, eyes drooping to be collected some two days from then, they were going out of commission, visiting David Bowie and Life on Mars, to freshen up, as he said. His excuses for thirty minute kips were wearing thin and lacked the witty edge of him at his best in front of an audience at ten in the morning.

When he opened his trailer door, muttering "Sweet sweet bed," under his breath, the print-outs, some torn, some crumpled, some as intact as they'd been when he'd printed them out covered every wall, every surface down to table legs and windows in his trailer. Jared, naked, with Misha's juvenile suck me, eat my honey straight from the source quotes printed over his genitals was staring at him no matter where he looked. The cheap light bulb pointed out every muscle on Jared's body in multitude, every rightly placed shadow. And then, the centerpiece on his table, the cheap shot of himself naked he'd posted to twitter in a fit of overtired silliness and amazing wit.

On it Will you? in Jared's handwriting.

Misha opened his mouth to comment on the atrocity of the waste of paper that had clearly been committed, and tape and the marks he'd been scratching at with a ruler for weeks to come, but he turned in his trailer door, looking out across the yard, to find the perpetrator of this crime on his possessions.

Jared stood at the other side of the yard, looking all Sam, and when Misha had expected the crew to parade through his trailer, snapping photos to show to their families, he was proven wrong. No one was around. He had his mouth open from the comments on the atrocity of environmental damages and ready to change his speech into a 'Haha. Well done.' but Jared just shrugged and turned to walk towards the sound stage.

Misha took another look at the photos, Jared's porn voice replaying in his mind and walked across the yard himself, squelching through mud and fucking up the bottom of Castiel's coat but he didn't care. Jared stood mid-set up with Jensen, the camera crew testing the angles, the sound guys moving around them, and Misha pushed through them, walked past Jensen, and straight up to Jared. He pulled him close by his stupid Sam t-shirt and kissed him full on the lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth and just snogging him with all the art and wit and fucking expertise of a man who'd done it all.

"You know where to find me," he whispered against Jared's lips as he let up, turned on his heel and walked out, Castiel's coat swishing around his legs.

That, that was worthy of the triumph in his chest, and he grinned the grin of winners when Jared's steps sounded through the mud behind him.