Vicki's body tucked against me is achingly warm and familiar.

I peer around her mussed hair, head pillowed next to my own and long lashes flickering with her dreams, at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

Not perfect, but she's mine I think, tracing nondescript patterns on the forearm clinging possessively to my waist.

"Morning, Misha."

Vicki stirs against me, rousing as slowly as the pale sun peeking over the edge of the horizon, pulling the sheet tight and cocooning our bodies together. Outside, rain is shaking out from the clouds like the clatter of clear beads falling from a pouch.

"Morning." My deep growl is coarse, thick with sleep.

She presses her lips to mine and my heart rolls slowly over as she throws back the covers with a yawn.

I watch the beautiful expanses of skin disappear behind layer after layer of clothing, still wrapped in the Vicki-scented sheets.

"I'm gonna go get coffee; come down when you're ready, babe."

I don't leave the bed for a while, even when I hear cabinet doors slam downstairs, smell coffee percolating.

I tell myself that I'm too lazy to shower the smell of lakewater and Jensen from my body. It's a damned distracting indulgence. Jensen is a damned distracting indulgence.

Instead, I shrug into a dark blue shirt, hoping the collar conceals a certain purpling reminder of that bitey asshole's apparent marking kink.

I run my fingers carefully through my hair, brush them over the faint stubble burn on my neck, and tug my collar higher.

Last night never happened.

"Misha?"

I turn at the knock, relaxing my facial muscles into a neutral smile as the door opens.

"Hey, morning," Jared says brightly. He's juggling his phone and two Starbucks cups. "Cinnamon dolce latte or vanilla latte?"

I grind my teeth together and hope my smile is more enthusiastic than it feels.

"Vanilla. Thanks."

***

I look up from the kitchen counter where I'm cracking and whisking some eggs for breakfast.

"Misha, I brought you a little surprise," Vicki's cheerful voice rings out.

JJ grins in Vicki's arms, fluffy bits of hair sticking up in a wild display.

"'Isha," she smiles softly at me, cheeks flushed and rosy, fluttering her long lashes sleepily. There's a tiny pink ribbon bow tacked jauntily in her hair.

Vicki passes her to me and I grin.

"Hey there, Princess," I murmur, rubbing our noses together lightly. She giggles.

"I'm gonna go check on our kids and then start packing up." Vicki kisses my cheek, palming my errant bedhead. "Can I leave her with you? Dani has a headache and JJ seems to think it's the perfect time to get temperamental."

JJ does have a set of lungs on her, when she's really mad. She can be feisty and temperamental, brooking no arguments from the adults at her beck and call.

I win all the awards for spoiling, though.

"Sure, no problem. Wouldn't be the first time."

JJ is like my own daughter. Although we don't see each other much, I've watched her play with her toes and blow bubbles with her tiny pink tongue, talked to her in low, dulcet tones, fallen asleep with one of my fingers caught inside her small fist. Her handsome asshole father is usually exhausted from his demanding job and Dani misses far too many prime play hours with their baby girl due to her own schedule. So I've babysat some when our families got together for extended visits.

I laugh and kiss JJ on the cheek when she latches onto my neck, little fingers pinching.

The eggs sizzle in the frying pan. I break them up with a spatula, working them over the surface to cook through, listening half-heartedly to the commotion in the adjacent living room.

JJ's lips purse into a gorgeous pout, noting that I'm not fully paying attention to her.

"I love you, cutie-pie," I bounce her on my arm to placate her. "I'm almost done here, and then we'll play, okay?"

With my free hand, I flip the eggs over and break them up with the edge of the spatula.

She won't admit it, but she's still pretty enamoured with the popup playpen I got her when she was a baby.

"'Kay, 'Isha."

I slide the eggs onto plates before reaching for the bacon and separating the strips. I lay them side-by-side in the pan and step back to avoid the grease splatter as the bacon begins to sizzle.

I remember when I was a new parent, in Dani and Jensen's shoes. Adjusting to short bursts of sleep between the hours of ten and two and three and six, and negotiating daycare and laundry and dinner... It's hell, but it's hell wrapped in the most incredible cotton-candy coating of love and I don't mind at all.

I get out the tongs and adjust the bacon in the pan, separating the fatty bits where they stick together.

"You hungry, cutie-pie?"

JJ nods vigorously and I smile. "Let's get you something to eat then."

***

The living room has devolved into a flying stream of laughter and conversation.

"Wow," Mark whistles, leaning on the doorframe and surveying the idle men with an amused glint in his eyes. "Lazy asses. Every one of you."

"Language," Osric chirps innocently from the couch.

"Oh, sue me."

"See you in court, bitch."

"Language," the room admonishes at large."

"That's enough, you guys," Jared sighs, his words slow and measured. "We've got an hour or so to just chill, and then we gotta pack up and leave."

We end up staying too late, my belly stuffed with lasagna and peach cobbler, the couch too comfortable and the guys' familiar banter too soothing.

Pissheads, I think fondly.

Presently, Osric is delivering an animated analysis of some movie that seems interesting but which is hard to follow on just four hours of sleep.

I snatch a magazine from the coffee table and page absentmindedly through it, the crisp corners of the newsprint crackling almost inaudibly in the noisy room. I fight the lure of sleep as long as I can, but exhaustion eventually wins and tumbles me into unconsciousness.

I wake up to the sound of a toilet flushing.

A faucet is running somewhere nearby and then there's the soft brush of socked feet over the polished floor. I groan, eyes fluttering reluctantly open.

"Mish?"

The voice at my ear is entirely too deep and entirely too close and I resist the urge to scream. Barely. "You awake?"

The scratch of beard startles me and I nod dumbly, belated.

Jensen is bundled against the fast-approaching thunderstorm - in a sweater with actual thumb holes what even - his golden hair tucked under a baseball cap, beautiful mouth nearly obscured in a jawline long unshaven.

"Y-yeah, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I croak, barely refraining from clutching my heart. I pan around the empty room blearily, the pitter-patter of rain slowly registering. "Where is everyone?"

Jensen sinks down on the couch beside me. Tenderly, he cups a palm around my jaw, dragging his thumb across my lips.

"Upstairs, packing for the trip home."

"Oh, okay." I toy with the snap on my sweater, striving for indifference. "I should probably go help Vicki with our stuff."

I wonder fleetingly about how late we're going to arrive back on set at this rate, but I make no move to leave.

"Want something to drink," Jensen asks after a short pause.

No.

"Sure, whatever."

We sit on the couch and drink the last two beers in the fridge. It's funny all the things you find to talk about when you're avoiding a conversation.

Flushing, I watch as he tilts his head back and guzzles, watch the way his throat works. The familiar way it bobs above his collar.

But small-talk only gets you so far, and soon a silent nothingness settles into the room, plummeting in my stomach like a stone.

I drink my nerves, rolling the ale in my mouth, malty and sweet. My favourite.

Studying the bottle in my hand, I peel off the label and turn it between my fingers. Stalling, while I gather my thoughts and seek courage.

I wonder how sharply he would protest if I spoke, how quickly he would flee if I brought our midnight into the afternoon haze.

I set my bottle down on the counter and let my head hang between my shoulders. They rise and fall with a sigh.

"Jensen..."

Just then, Dani enters the room with Jared in tow.

"Babe!"

She saunters up to Jensen and he stands up to seal their lips together.

I watch as the kiss transforms from slow discovery to fiery need and Dani reaches around to grope his firm glutes. My lunch sours in my stomach.

Headache was short-lived, apparently.

"Oh. Have at it. Let's just forget that I'm right fucking here." Jared's tone is light and mocking, an accusatory eyebrow raised. "Should Misha and I leave the room?"

Jensen laughs, really laughs, a gorgeous and addictive sound.

"Nah, we'll be good. Ain't that right, Dani?" He winks at the woman in question, who brassily winks back.

I stare intently at a framed photograph's off-kilter placement on the fireplace.

Giving more than a few damns that I might be in love with someone else's lover.