The smile I wear pasted on my face fades the second I turn away. 

I go downstairs, switch on the oven light and set to work covering the leftovers in foil, before placing them in the enormous fridge.

I could load the dishwasher, but I desperately need to keep busy. So I wash the dishes by hand, watching the water churn and swirl down the drain. I move my fingers under the stream, letting it pound beneath my nails and wash away the grime. The column of water is cold and wet, but its soothing rhythm as it rushes from the spout is ineffective at calming the pounding of my heart deep in my gut. I take deep, cleansing breaths.

I'm going to bake French toast tomorrow morning. Maple bacon. Sweet, salty, buttery, with a crunch of bacon...

I'm about to start vacuuming, more so to distract myself than out of any real need, when I hear the wailing. I start, realizing immediately that JJ must be having another nightmare.

As I rush back upstairs to her room, Dani's giggles permeate the walls and I think idly that Jensen finally got the crazy wanton lovemaking he wanted. I made sure earlier today to add votive candles to their bathroom - dimmer at its lowest - and even sprinkled pink and red rose petals on the coverlet, as per Dani's request.

I hold JJ in my arms until she stops crying, and continue to hug her as I read her a bedtime story. Dani and Jensen are clearly otherwise occupied and must have forgotten.

When I finish, I kiss JJ's forehead and pull the sheets up snugly under her chin.

"Love you," she murmurs sleepily.

"Love you, sweetie," I smile back.

I stand up and stretch, feeling my back crack and sighing at the release of tension. I'm exhausted as I pad across the room towards the door. I make sure JJ's nightlight is in place before reaching for the light switch.

"'Isha?" JJ's voice turns me in my tracks.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Are you my second daddy?"

The words punch me in the gut, sending a blossoming pain spreading through my body. My knees buckle and I'm temporarily winded.

The possibility flits through my mind for a millisecond. I shake my head and turn off the lights, feeling tears burn behind my eyes, not wanting JJ to see.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," I whisper. Luckily, she's already drifting off and I slip quietly out the door.

I walk to my room, feeling dazed, and close the door behind me. Then I lean my forehead against the cool, white surface and let the tears fall, unable to tune out the sensual moaning and thumping and cries of pleasure filtering in through the walls.

***

"You sure, Misha? I mean, I know Vicki's not here but you can still come clubbing with us."

"Nah, I need to do some shopping and then drop JJ off at a sleepover." I school my face into something resembling nonchalance and lower my eyes. "Seriously, Jared, you guys go ahead and have a good time."

Jared watches me for a moment, his expression flirting with pity, but I'm spared the usual inquisition.

"Okay, Misha."

While the others head out for the evening, I drive to the grocery store. I sit JJ in the cart, and she helps me choose ingredients and supplies. I tell her she's excellent help and kiss her on the cheek before dropping her off at a friend of Dani's for her sleepover. It's around 9 P.M. when I pull into the Ackles' driveway again. It's otherwise empty; the others planned to party all night.

I'm grateful for the mansion's non-stop air conditioning as I walk up to the porch, the night air overly warm on my skin. I put the key in the slot, bags balanced precariously on my hips, and push the door open. And do a double take.

Jensen is leaning nonchalantly in the hallway with a bottle of beer. The blinds are all drawn, the lights are dimmed, and the house is vibrating with the pulsing beat of club music - turn down for fucking what.

"I'm not dirty dancing with you," I say flatly, my voice loud enough to carry over DJ Snake and Lil Jon. "Not in the very living room your wife vacuums."

Apparently lacking any sense of shame, Jensen rolls his eyes.

"You vacuum it more than she does anyway. Get over here."

"It would be wrong, Jensen." I move past him and start unloading the groceries.

"Hey, hey," Jensen frowns, stepping forward. "Hang on a second there, Mish."

Before I can protest further, he eases the bags out of my grasp and lowers them to the floor, pulling me flush against him. Then he's kissing me, backing me slowly into the spacious living room.

"Why aren't you out with the others?"

"I wanted myself an armful of sexy angel instead," he rumbles, voice deep and heady. Which isn't his smoothest line, but it works every time.

Then his tongue is back in my mouth, and despite my trying my damndest to resist him, dirty dancing it is. We crowd too close to each other, Jensen's hands in my back pockets as he grinds sensually against me, the thrumming of the music erasing my better judgement.

We dance through Wiggle, Wiggle, Wiggle and then everything else on that dirty iPhone playlist of his, which is blasting through the house on shuffle. Pretty soon, I start to relax. Laughing, drinking without a care in the world, I feel like I'm at a college party with the hottest thing on campus. And he's got his hands all over me: in my pants, sliding under my shirt, the sensual gyration of our groins matching the throbbing pulse of the music. And he's a goddamn animal with those moves, whispering lewd praises in my ear.

Jensen apparently has plans for the night, which extend far, far beyond dirty dancing and body shots and the warm slow trickle of beer on naked skin. A lot of plans.

After hours of sweat, decibels of cries and moans, tubes of lube, a handful of discarded toys, and buckets of sweat, the night is finally winding down.

"Shhh," I whisper. I continue to massage his prostate, helping him through his orgasm. When he finally finishes coming with a lascivious moan, he collapses onto the couch, satiated and panting and covered in sweat. "Mish." He tries to reach for me.

"Shhh..." I say in a soothing voice. The house is quiet now, still. I think vaguely that it must be midnight or later.

I rub his thighs, massaging the soreness away. "Relax. We're done for the night."

Hands splayed above his head, offering himself up to me like this, he's the hottest thing I've ever seen. His eyes are closed and his chest is flushed pink all the way up to his neck, sweat gathering in the area between his pecs. I lick it off.

I lie down next to him and he immediately rolls over, throwing an arm around my chest. I sigh, wanting to fall asleep. The adrenaline that was keeping me awake is slowly seeping away, but I know I can't let the others find us like this in the morning.

I kiss him, smiling because even though he's exhausted he kisses me back. "You make me so stupid," I murmur wryly.

Jensen exhales in one long, slow breath, and I can feel those intense eyes on me again, caressing my skin. When he speaks, his eyes boring into mine, his voice is gravelly and low, the words succinct.

"I love you, Misha."

My heart is pounding in my chest, like one too many espresso shots sent straight to my feelings.

I remember the controversial edit to Dean's crypt speech a few seasons back from I love you to I need you. I still marvel at the words coming from Jensen now: the man who's too proud to ask anything from anyone, who'd rather push people away than talk about his feelings. Deflection is a natural reaction for him; he usually avoids dangerous territory, preferring to go a different route. But here he is, lying soft and pliant in my arms and baring his soul to me like it was always mine. I get up quickly before I can give in to the burn of tears.

"Dani and the others will be home in a few hours, Jensen. We've gotta get cleaned up."

I search through the small linen closet just off of the bathroom, disrupting the tidy rows of toilet paper rolls and product bottles. I'm damn near throbbing everywhere; even my bones feel liquid and warm.

I come back and wipe everything down, dropping a chaste kiss to Jensen's naval after I clean him up. "Let's get you to bed."

"Not yet." He looks imploringly up at me. "How about you make popcorn and we can settle down with a movie?"

I consider the idea for a beat.

"Okay, Jensen."

In the kitchen, I locate a jar of popcorn in an upper cabinet. The kernels rain down into the saucepan, pinging against its sides.

As I work, Jensen comes up and snakes an arm around my middle. I'm acutely aware of the warmth emanating from his naked body.

Shit, this man makes me reckless. I haven't felt as alive as I felt tonight in a long time. But dangerous living is a lot more compelling in the throes of mind-blowing sex than in the aftermath. In spite of how many times he's stolen into my trailer in the cover of darkness, this is different. This is his home. The home he shares with his wife and daughter...

This situation could go from bad to full-blown shit storm in the space of a heartbeat if we're not careful. We, together behind closed doors like this... We're a ticking time bomb.

I've been wrapped in a dreamlike cotton candy feeling of love and euphoria all night, but now, I'm a guilty, self-hating scrap of a man.

"We're shit husbands," I blurt. I pour in oil and flick salt on top, then slam on the lid.

"We're celebrities," Jensen whispers, kissing my ear. "Not supposed to be good examples."

He nuzzles close, mouth grazing my jaw, breath hot and soft.

"We're also fathers," I say quietly. "I always wanted to be a good father."

"Good fathers are overrated." Jensen laves his tongue across my chapped lips, willing me to open up for him. But I know I taste of insolence and lack of shame, so I don't.

"Jensen," I insist, in a last desperate bid for sanity. "We have to be good examples to our children. I've taught mine to admit when they've made a mistake. And we're a big freaking mistake."

Jensen looks sharply at me, eyes as cold as glass, slicing through me.

"Wow, Misha. Just rip that bandaid straight off, hair and all."

"It's true." We don't have a future to look forward to together. We can't get married and be with each other for the rest of our lives and grow old together. So what are we doing?

Fear clambers up my spine in icy spikes. Our being together is foolish, a waste of time and emotions, and so dangerous a risk.

"Fine, Misha."

I bite my lip.

"Fine."

Later, after whispered apologies and promises, he settles me onto my back, knees spread, and works me open slowly, deliberately, as if we have all the time in the world. My head falls back as I stutter at the ceiling, wishing not for the first time that we did.

When we're both sweaty and breathless again, unable to tell anymore whose pleasure belongs to whom, he rocks into me, murmuring "this is real, Misha. This is real," and I wrap my ankles around his back, pulling him deeper despite the burn. It's harder this way, but I want to see his face, can't bear to look away from him. Not today. Jensen is here, flesh-and-blood real, and I don't know when I'll get to have him like this again. We look at each other when he bottoms out inside me, mouths open against each other, both of us hollowed right down to our souls. I clutch fistfuls of his hair in my trembling fingers, raking them over his skull and down his shoulders. I close my eyes and everything is gone but the drag of fingernails across bare skin, leaving little trails of fire where they've been, the crushing pressure of lips, scorching heat and laboured breathing. We are real.

I don't try to keep quiet, groaning my encouragement with every roll of his hips. The louder I cry, the harder he pushes back in, until I'm practically shouting.

I come hot and hard in his hand, capturing his mouth and pressing my lips to his, telling him I love him over and over again until he gathers my wrists in one hand and holds them above my head and shoves his tongue into my mouth, if only to quiet my cries. He weeps when he comes, and I know he won't admit it later. We stare at each other as he slows his movements, pumping his hips a few more times before easing out with a loving expression. I feel strange and empty.

I gulp in air until Jensen settles on top of me, kissing me over and over and over. His cheeks are wet, eyes glassy, so I brush the tears away and kiss him back. We should get up to shower and change, but I'm too tired to move and he's shaking and I can only wrap my arms around his back and hold him. 

"Mish, I'm so sorry." He lowers his head, dabbing his wet eyes on my shoulder. "Don't know how to fix this fucking mess."

We're lying on a blanket in the post-coital haze, the only noise in the house the sound of our laboured breathing and our hearts beating to the same drum solo.

More than once, I've asked him to lie perfectly still like this, so that I could count every one of his freckles. We would stay in bed like that for hours, talking in hushed voices or not talking at all, while I'd start from the top and move down, counting all the precious spots scattered across his skin from head to toe. I would worship Jensen's body, murmuring quiet praises as I kissed every inch of him, until I would end up with his cock in my mouth, swallowing down his length as he squirmed beneath me.

"It's okay, Jensen," I murmur. I'm too exhausted to rehash painful things that I personally consider out of our control, firmly ensconced in the past. "It may be cheesy, but it doesn't matter who you're with; I'll always love your stupid ass."

I hadn't mean to tell him the first time, in that hotel.

But then he looked at me softly: tentative, pleading. He told me to say it again and the command slammed like a boulder against a dam, smashing everything in its direct path, water gushing out, flooding through the cracks, wiping everything away but the sound of the three words in my mouth. After so much time spent skirting around What If's and Maybe's and Could's and Would's and Should's, I said the words again and again, like they didn't even belong to me, like they were his all along.

Yeah, it's foolish and I'll probably come to regret this. But now that I've opened the floodgates, now that years of suppressed desire have come rolling out all at once, I couldn't stop it even if I'd wanted to. We've been friends for a long time. The emotions between us developed gradually, like the ebb and flow of a great ocean, pushing and pulling us to one another, until that precise moment when neither of us could deny the profound bond we share. I couldn't say the words for a long time, but deep down, I knew them.

We lie this way just a little longer, both too reluctant to leave the cocoon of our warm bodies, skin on naked skin, limbs tangled, no boundaries, nothing between us. But we know this can't last forever.

After cleaning up for the second time and putting on some clothes, we settle down on the couch. Jensen lies on his side, propped up on an elbow, and pulls me flush against him. We decide to watch TV instead of a movie, and he keeps an arm draped over my side as I channel surf, nuzzling my neck.

We talk about Jared's pranks and my biking accident and his directing and sock monkey hats and the rest of my antics: opening up to each other, laughing and trusting and relieving stress and simply soaking in each other's presence.

"I still think you should be out partying with the others," I murmur after a brief lull in the conversation, "spending time with your friends."

"They don't need to see my bare ass fucking you against everything."

I roll my eyes and Jensen sighs. "I just... I thought I'd spend the night partying with you instead." He ducks his head. "Kind of like a date."

"Why am I not surprised that you didn't go the candlelit dinner route," I joke, but my voice is laced with emotion.

"I probably would've, with Dani. She'd never approve of something like what I planned for you tonight."

But I loved it. I turn around to face him and gently nudge his jaw with my mouth, nipping at the freckles I know sit under the stubble of his chin.

I plan to give everything he needs, and take everything he gives, without hesitation. When it comes to Jensen I've lost all my willpower, all my restraint.

I sink into him, my body melting into the crevices and crooks of his as we kiss, slow and languid, tongues lazily fighting for dominance. I slide a hand into his hair to anchor our mouths together before pulling away gently. He may not be an expert in grand romantic gestures, but I'm touched, utterly fucking touched, all the same.

"Jensen, this was the best date I've ever had."

But by the time boys, we're home rings merrily out from the hallway, we're seated next to each other on the couch, having apparently indulged in nothing more than beer and Blu-Ray all night.

And the lyrics of that song hit me suddenly, a month old and still fresh in my mind.

Nobody sees
Nobody knows
We are a secret
Can't be exposed

That's how it is
That's how it goes
Far from the others
Close to each other

That's when we uncover.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]