DAYS YET TO COME
Jared/Jensen + Misha. PG. High School AU. Underage Drinking.
Written for riyku for this year's spnspringfling challenge. This entire idea just made me smile ♥ Originally posted here.



“I promise. I’m not taking you to a ritual killing or anything.”

Misha turns away from the window and stares at Jared in the driver’s seat. “Huh?”

“Dude,” Jared chuckles, “you should see your face right now. It’s like you’re expecting this to turn into a teen horror movie.”

Smiling so Jared doesn’t realize he’s thinking along those lines, Misha says, “I don’t know. This is Texas, and we are driving out to the middle of nowhere.”

“I know you’ve been gone a long time, Mish,” Jared tells him, spring-warmed landscape passing as a greenish brown blur behind his head, “but I won’t let anything happen to you.” He tosses his hair back, finger-combing it behind his ear. “Seriously though, don’t be nervous. People will remember you.”

There’s a lift to Jared’s voice, but Misha’s not sure being remembered is a good thing. It all depends on how he’s remembered. He’d lived the Texas life for fourteen years before he’d moved to New York City to live with his aunt. He knows Jared did his best to quell the strangest rumors – he’d assured people that no, Misha hadn’t become a gypsy and no, he wasn’t in juvie, either – but teenagers preferred the sensational over the reasonable.

“Maybe they don’t want me crashing their graduation party.”

“Our party,” Jared corrects. “You grew up here, too. And whatever, you’re my guest. People can deal.”

People can deal. Misha swivels back towards the passenger window, hiding his grin behind his fist. At least Jared’s personal philosophy hasn’t changed. They may have been separated on and off for the better part of four years, but Jared’s always been Misha’s best friend – the constant in the wide scope of his life.

“You said Jensen’s going to be there?”

“Yeah.” Jared’s voice soars even more. “He knows a bunch of people from our high school.”

“And he’s coming for you.”

“I, uh…” Jared glances at his lap, lip tucked between his teeth. “I guess.”

“Been a while since you’ve seen him?”

“A week, yeah,” Jared says. “But there was his graduation, then mine. Family in town, you coming back. I just…it’ll be nice to see him tonight.”

“I bet.”

Jared shakes his head. “Mish, c’mon.”

Misha holds his hands up, eyes thin under the barrage of sunlight streaming into the truck from the west. “I won’t say anything.”

@@@@

Jared jumps out of the truck right away, but Misha stays put to soak in the scene along with the heat of the setting sun.

Wooden pallets and two-by-fours are piled in the center of the field like a collapsed Jenga tower; trucks and good-enough-for-a-first-car sedans parked in a ring around the bonfire site. Girls in bright, fluttery tank tops and boys in printed t-shirts run back and forth through the dirt between the cars, and sunlight reflects off more than one bright, shiny keg.

Misha takes a deep breath, dust kicked up from dozens of trampling feet tickling his nose. He can almost feel the dry texture on his fingers; there’s probably already dirt in his hair. Different than what he’s gotten used to over the last four years: meeting friends on the Upper East Side, watching indie films in small playhouses, and taking the subway everywhere. Here, everyone’s sun-kissed and barefooted (or in Jared’s case, cowboy-booted), not pale and hurried and plugged into their iPods.

“Misha!” Jared’s waving. “Get out of the truck already.”

Jared hooks him around the shoulders as soon as he’s in range, pulling him against his side. Misha can feel his face heating.

He’s re-introduced to kids he’s known since the days of kindergarten naps and Red-Rover at recess. Mike Torres, who was Misha’s partner in sixth grade science; he’d never documented his share of weather data for their project. Hannah Spikowski, the first girl Misha ever asked to a middle school dance. Owen Raymond, the first boy Misha can remember wanting to kiss.

Misha sticks close to Jared, although technically, Jared’s the one keeping him from wandering off with a hand at his elbow, an arm over his shoulders. He could read into the gestures – and part of Misha really, really wants to – if he were blind to the way Jared touches everyone. Open and friendly, he gives a hugs in place of handshakes, slaps the guys on the shoulder and lets the girls wrap their arms around his chest. Jared laughs with everyone, even the kids Misha knows he’s not all that close to.

They each grab a beer, but Misha sips his slowly. By the time the sun is down, the dregs are warm and he dumps them in the dirt at the base of the bonfire pile. When he looks up, there’s a boy jogging towards them. Light brown, sun-skimmed hair, freckles sprinkled across his nose. Khaki shorts and a black tee that’s a little too loose on his wiry frame.

Misha recognizes Jensen from Jared’s pictures, but Jensen’s features are having a real-life effect on him, right here.

“Jen!”

“Sorry I’m late,” Jensen says, smile wide as Jared wraps him up. They look at one another as if they’re alone in a room, not in a field of flattened grass and dry dirt, not to mention at least fifty of Jared’s classmates. “Did I miss anything?”

Jared shakes his head, and then he and Jensen turn as one. “Jen, this is my friend Misha. Misha, Jensen.”

Jensen takes Misha’s hand in a warm grip. “Kinda feels like I already know you, Misha. Jared talks about you a lot.”

“You too,” Misha says. He’s heard all about Jensen’s knack for photography, the way he’d directed and produced his senior class film. All about how Jensen makes Jared feel like more than a science-geek – as if his dream of being a pediatrician is a probability, not a reach.

“Cool shirt.” Jensen nods down at Misha’s bright green Neon Spiral t-shirt. “I bought their album a couple weeks ago.”

“You’ve heard of them?” Misha asks, no longer distracted by the way Jensen fits against Jared’s side (previously reserved only for Misha), indifferent to the attention they’re getting. “My friend Keith is their drummer.”

“That’s awesome! He goes to your school?”

“He did. He graduated last year but he was in my composition class.”

Jensen sighs, but it’s a fond sound. “Man, I wish my parents could have afforded to send me to an arts high school. I probably could have directed my own short film by now. A real one, not one where our mascot was kidnapped and forced to perform in a rodeo, and then my classmates had to save him.”

All three of them laugh, Jensen’s face smoothing from a grimace to a smile. It’s beautiful. Jared must think so, too, because he tucks his nose behind Jensen’s ear. Misha can almost feel how warm his breath would be; how it would curl delicately around Jensen’s ear.

Jared pulls back and says, “Yeah, but if you’d gone to another school, we might never have met.”

Jensen looks up – because nearly everyone has to look up with Jared. “Then I guess it all worked out, right?”

For a moment, Misha thinks they’re going to kiss. He knows Jared’s been waiting to make his move, a little too nervous to put himself out there. Jared’s told Misha that he’d been searching for the right moment, for the pieces to come together. Before, the timing was never right. But Misha can see the feelings between them, and wishes he weren’t intruding in the middle of what could be their moment.

“But,” Jensen says, turning back to Misha, “that doesn’t mean Misha can’t tell me everything about what it was like.”

Across the clearing, someone yells, “It’s time to light this thing up!” Jared shouts back that it’s about time, and soon the field is filled with chanting – part of the school song Misha never got to learn. But it’s okay because Jensen’s standing between him and Jared, grinning instead of singing. The beams and pallets, stuffed with quicker-to-burn branches and newspaper, are soon ablaze, sending red and orange fireflies up into the night. Red cups are held up in salute to the flames; to the end of an era for all of these students.

“I think we could all use another beer,” Jared says once the bonfire’s burning steadily. “You guys wait here.”

Misha looks at Jensen as the apex of their little social triangle bounds off towards the nearest keg. He shrugs.

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen says. “He’s really something.”

“You should keep him.” Misha flushes as he realizes what he just said. “I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” Jensen’s eyes are warm, and it’s not an illusion from the firelight. “I’m definitely going to try to keep him,” he tells Misha. “That doesn’t mean you need to let go.”

Misha’s saved from responding by Jared returning with three big cups held in his steepled fingers, but he spends the next few hours trying to puzzle out what Jensen meant. Between the fire, the beer, and the games Jensen and Jared drag them into, Misha doesn’t get very far.

@@@@

“I forgot what the stars looked like,” Misha sighs. “You don’t get views like this in the city.”

Next to him, Jared chuckles. “It’s a good thing you come down here once n’ a while, then. You get to see the stars.”

“Right.” Misha rolls his eyes. “’Cause that’s the only reason I come back.”

On the other side of Jared, Jensen laughs softly. Misha can’t see him over the height of Jared’s chest, but it almost sounds like he’s laughing into Jared’s shirt. No wonder with their being tucked into the bed of Jared’s truck like sardines in a tin. But it’s comfortable; Jared had brought three camping mattresses and laid them out beneath their sleeping bags. And the sky is wide and dark above them, nothing to obscure their view.

All around the dying light of the bonfire, tents and blankets are spread out as the graduates succumb to beer and exhaustion. Voices, laughter from time to time, reach the three of them up in Jared’s truck, a sign that not everyone’s gone to bed.

Misha doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep. He’d only had a little to drink but his head is spinning, stopping on Jensen for a moment before reversing back to Jared. He’d settled with his feelings for Jared a long time ago, comfortable with the idea that they were best friends. But Jensen changes things. Misha likes him, and he’s jealous. Jealous of Jared for capturing Jensen’s attention, and jealous of Jensen for the way he makes Jared feel. If Misha could have even a piece of that…

“I’m really glad you guys’re here,” Jared mumbles, squirming until he can get an arm wrapped around each of them. He tugs, pulling Jensen and Misha towards his chest. Misha meets Jensen’s eyes across the stretch of gray cotton – the neutral zone between territories. He watches as Jensen lowers his lips to Jared’s cheek; not a moment, but a promise of one to come. “My guys. Y’all like each other, right?”

“Huh?”

“What?” They ask in unison.

“Just wanna make sure you guys like each other. It’ll be better that way.”

“You’re a little drunk, Jay,” Jensen says.

“And really, really tired,” Misha adds.

“No, ‘m good. Really good.” Jared pulls them closer – Misha doesn’t think it’s possible until it happens and he’s laying his head on Jared’s shoulder – and sighs up at the stars. “It’s gonna be so good.”

Misha floats for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet. If this is how he spends his last summer before college, then this isn’t a bad way to start. Granted, if Jared and Jensen get together – and it’s looking pretty likely after their affectionate back-and-forth tonight – Misha might be cut out of some of their time, but he’s not too worried. Jared’s too good of a guy to ignore him.

Maybe there’ll even be a little room for him between Jared and Jensen.

“I never told you the good news, did I, Mish?”

“What news?”

“Me and Jensen are gonna be in New York City.”

“You’re coming to visit?”

Jensen laughs and finishes Jared’s thought. “Not exactly.” Quieter, “I can’t believe Jared didn’t tell you yet.”

Jared hums. “Wanted it to be a surprise for Mish.”

“So tell me,” Misha says, even the faint amount of alcohol in his system preventing him from getting really impatient. “What’s going on?”

“Jared got into Columbia,” Jensen says. “He’s going pre-med.”

“And Jensen’s going to NYU,” Jared slurs, but Misha catches enough of it. “With you.”

“Oh my god.” Misha rolls away. “We’re gonna be in the same city.”

“All three of us,” Jensen says, leaning up over Jared.

“I never…” Misha sighs, still trying to process the news. He looks down at Jared, wanting to curl into that lazy smile. “I never thought you’d leave Texas.”

“Got more than one reason to leave,” he says. “That’s okay, right? Mish?”

“Yeah. You guys are going to love it. There’s so much to see and do, and we can see each other all the time.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Jensen says, and when his eyes meet Misha’s, he can see his fantasies taking shape. It’s amazing, and Misha can’t look away until Jared takes advantage of their distraction to wrangle them both against his chest again.

“It’s gonna be a good summer.”

Jensen and Misha agree at the same time.

FIN.