I push Misha's door open before dawn the next morning without bothering to knock.

He's standing with his back to me, changing into his running clothes, as I knew full well he would be at this hour.

Do I just want to see Misha naked again?

Absolutely not; I simply wanted to say good morning to my baby angel...

Misha gives a start as I close and lock the door behind me.

"You are not alone," I wink, striding past him to the window.

I notice that in the span of the few brief hours I was back in bed with Dani, Misha removed the soiled sheets from the bed to be washed, exposing the bare mattress.

I'm rocked by a powerful bolt of desire just thinking about how they came to need that wash so badly. If it wasn't for our considerable fitness, the obscene amount of fucking we've been doing lately, and the bottles of water and Gatorade still lining the foot of the bed, we wouldn't be able to stand this morning, much less jog.

What is it that people say? Gay men do it better; prostate orgasms are the best in the world...

True as fuck, all of that.

"No, it seems I never am," Misha mutters, rolling his eyes and resuming his efforts to pull a blue sweatshirt over his head.

"Oh, relax," I smirk, stopping to rest my elbows on the window ledge and peering out at the early morning cityscape.

The cloudless sweep of sky is pale beyond the outline of gleaming high rises and apartment buildings, the early sun splaying pastel colours across the horizon. "It's not like I haven't seen you in more...compromising positions."

I turn to give Mish an appraising once-over.

He's basically edible in his black and blue nylon running gear. I still don't know how he manages to look so good in the morning, when my eyes are still swollen with sleep and I feel like there's a fucking frog lodged in the back of my throat.

"You call your mom back yet," he asks, perching on the edge of the bed without looking up from his phone.

"Not yet," I sigh. I walk over to sit down beside him and pull him onto my lap. "She probably just wants to make arrangements for Christmas."

"She and your dad and sister are coming over, right?"

"Mhmm." I mouth at his neck, revelling in the comfort and weight of him on top of me. "Probably."

I snake my hands into his fly to fondle him through his orange briefs. "They're super excited about the twins."

"Of course they are," Misha smiles mirthfully. "What parents wouldn't be?"

"Well, they're not the ones who're going to have to deal with being puked on, daily."

"I'm sure they'd love to, though," he chuckles absently, fingers flying across the screen at lightening speed. "Will you take your hand out of my pants," he murmurs after a beat.

"Probably not..."

"I'm texting my wife," he appends, as if I asked or cared.

I run my nose along his throat, purring in his ear.

"Sorry. You just have no idea the horny hell you subject me to. It's fucking hard walking around with a raging boner every time I'm near you..."

What's a guy to do? He's just the hottest thing on legs ever, a real sex angel. The way his ass twitches when I talk to it, those stupidly big, sapphire eyes that throw me off guard with a terrible force of longing every time I look into them, that throaty Cas voice of his - ugh, dammit... He overwhelms me with reckless impulses. Naturally, I can't keep my hands off of him.

"Ah, that explains the bowlegs."

"Shut up." I hate my legs.

"I love your legs."

"Shut up."

Misha lets his head fall into his hand with a sharp slap.

"Unbelievable. I love and love you with my big-ass heart, and all I get is shut up? You know what, I'm going now."

"What - Mish, wait, please."

"No, I'm not going to let you sucker me into forgiving you," Misha denies, his tone teasing yet firm. He pushes off of my lap and rises to his feet. "I have to go jogging."

"No, you have to stay here and plan the wedding with me," I pout. "What about...flower arrangements, caterers, fireworks..." I grip his waist and force him to drag me across the floor like a stubborn child.

"Let me go, you gorgeous little shit."

I look up at him appalled, eyes set in a kind of practiced shock.

"But...You're my baby daddy."

"Fucking right I am," Misha grins, before moving to pry me unceremoniously off of him. I catch his wrists before he can do so and peer imploringly into his sparkling blue orbs.

Then, throwing me completely off guard, Misha digs his hands into my hair, drops onto my lap and yanks me in for a hard, open-mouthed kiss.

I moan my surprise, and he uses the opportunity to thrust a warm, sensual tongue into my mouth. It takes me a moment to snap to my senses, and then I'm kissing him back with everything I have, twisting my wet muscle along his greedily, pouring all of the passion and longing I posses into his mouth.

All too soon, Misha breaks the kiss and pulls away, making to get up once more.

"W-wait," I gasp, head spinning and lips throbbing with abuse. "You can't just tongue-fuck my mouth like that and then leave me all hot and bothered. What happened to taking care of my needs?"

I change my mind just as Misha opens his mouth to argue, shaking my head with stubborn petulance. "Unless you're going to deliver your apology in the Cas voice, save it," I snap, waving my hand dismissively.

"Oh come on, you know we don't have time right now-"

"Not even for a quickie?"

"Jensen..."

"Fine, just go on your stupid jog. Not like I fucking need you or any-"

Misha smashes our mouths together, tonguing me with wild, reckless abandon. My resolve crumbles instantly, and my hands fly up to grasp his hair as I swallow that hot tongue impossibly deep into my mouth.

He lets loose on me completely, and it's impossible the way a mere kiss can feel like absolute bliss, after all the things we've done together, all the pleasure we've taken from each other.

I press a firm and grounding hand to his lower back, keeping him plastered against me while I devour his mouth.

Misha's palm finds the back of my head, blunt nails massaging my scalp while his other arm winds tightly around my waist.

Still kissing him animalistically, my hands slide down his back to grope that lush little ass that is easily my favourite thing in this world.

Mish breaks away to spread sweet lips along my jaw while I continue to roughly palm and cup and squeeze him. I feel powerful, privileged, trusted to be able to know and hold this ass so intimately.

I could cry.

"Oh, stop treating that thing like it's God's gift to mankind," Mish mutters into my shoulder. "I'm starting to get jealous of my own ass."

"Shut up; I'm thinking of names."

"Names?"

"One for each cheek."

Misha whips around to grip my face in both hands, eyeing me with something like affectionate concern. He seems understandably floored by my suggestion.

I just smile back at him, freckles practically popping out of my skin with an intense, childish joy I haven't experienced since Christmas thirty years ago.

"Oh," he says quietly. "You're serious."

"Of course I am, dipshit."

Misha's eyes look heavenward, despairingly, as though thinking such is the man I am in love with.

"What's wrong with calling it...well, just an ass?"

"So many things. Besides, it's not just an ass," I grin coyly.

"Mhmm," Misha grins back. "So how are we doing with names then?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Huh," he murmurs low, sensually, right in my ear. "Well, think harder."

"I don't know why, but I like the sound of Hamish and Ducky...has a nice ring to it..."

Misha hums against my neck, nosing at my jaw and trailing his fingers seductively down my chest.

"Any other ideas?"

"U-uh, well, I don't know-"

"What about Jaimie, that's a good one."

I pause to take this into solemn consideration, but it's difficult because Misha's hands are sliding under my shirt and gripping the slabs of my back as he nuzzles my neck, and a million electric tingles are racing through my body.

"Y-yeah, that's a good one."

"Mhmm. What else?"

I can't help the moan that tears out of me when Misha's fingers begin to travel indecently low on my torso.

"F-Finn?"

"Mhmm, and Chip maybe."

Misha kisses my shoulder blade, the soft smacking sound of his lips against my skin making me shudder bodily.

"Yeah. Yeah, I like that one." Another one on my collarbone. "Chip is cute."

Then another right below my left ear.

Then Misha cradles my face in his hands and leans in close, so close that his breath ghosts over my lips and an excited thrill races through my body, waking up all of my nerves.

"I love you so, so much," he whispers earnestly. "You know that, right?"

I stare into his captivatingly big eyes, nodding stupidly.

I feel dizzy, overwhelmed with the sudden, obscene desire to just drop my fly for him right fucking now - and it's such a raw desire it leaves my bones vibrating. "I'll be back soon."

He moves his lips to my ear, tongue scraping against the sensitive shell. "Dean." And there it is: just a taste of that rough, tantalizingly husky Cas voice that makes me shiver from top to bottom.

The hushed, dulcet tone has barely graced my eardrums before Misha's back on his feet and heading out the door without a backwards glance.

I literally swoon.

***

It's not until I'm standing in the nursery that they hit me: the perfect names.

Jen - that's the right cheek - and Sen for the left.

I fold my arms across my chest, smiling with smug satisfaction at the two cribs in front of me.

Soon there will be babies in these beds. If I could just have my baby angel in mine every night, life would be golden.

The room is painted a pastel blue, pale and sweet, with shimmering curtains shifting in the slight breeze. The furniture is white, contrasting with the dark wood flooring, and the clothing from the mall has been washed and folded by Misha, then placed in the closet opposite the door.

My gaze falls from my surroundings to my hand, vision narrowing in on the additional silver band I now wear on my right ring finger. Since my left one is occupied by my wedding band, this was the next most significant finger I could think to wear it on.

My heart swells with a raw, bubbling joy just looking at it. It doesn't look romantic; there are no diamonds or anything that would contradict its alleged purpose as a bro ring.

But the design is epically cool; I love it. It's way sicker than the sort of jewellery Dani's into. And the best part about the ring? Mish wears it's twin.

I imagine two tiny sleeping forms in the cribs before me, curled up in matching sleepers, and test the words.

Hey little guys, I think, swallowing deeply. Your daddy loves your mommy very much, and JJ and you. But he's in love with another man...

"Jensen?"

I turn to find Dani leaning in the doorway, hair slightly askew with sleep. She's changed into a white tank top and black yoga pants, manicured feet stuffed into furry house slippers.

"Morning," I rumble warmly as she comes up to me. Dani's belly makes it difficult to embrace her, so she just rests her forehead against mine and our hands meet overtop of the bulge.

It's a peaceful moment, quiet and brooding, as we stare at the two cribs before us.

"Are you scared," she finally murmurs, breaking the silence.

"A little bit," I yield, squeezing her hand.

I'm a famous actor so, granted, I drink, swear and have sex way too much; I'm even cheating on my wife just to fit the fucking profile better. But I want to do better, for my kids.

"I thought that might be what's gotten you so stressed out." Dani pries her fingers away and uses them to frame my face. I peer intently at her as her eyes bear searchingly into mine. "You're a great father. This is going to be a good thing, for all of us."

"I know, babe."

Dani lets her hands fall away and leans in once more to rest her cheek against mine. This time our fingers clasp at her waist as we resume our silent stance.

Turbulent feelings wash over me, challenging the serenity of the room.

But things are finally okay again. Jared is no longer looking at me like I'm shit on his shoe, and I've stopped treating him like he's shit on mine. My situation with Misha isn't his fault; I don't know why it took me this long to realize that he's only trying to help. Too bad he can't.

But I got away with my life, despite going in expecting the large man to deck me very hard or at least continue treating me with utter revulsion until I got a taste of my own medicine. He probably should've. I was sorely mistaken, my anger completely misdirected.

Dani and I stay like this for a while longer before she breaks away, yawning something about needing more sleep.

I help her back to bed, reminding her that rest is important for the babies' health as well as her own, and give her a foot massage to help her settle into a nice, comfortable doze.

Then I abandon my script studying for a few hours to make breakfast with JJ.

It's early, and Misha isn't back yet to help, but I know he'll appreciate our effort.

I fix up his favourite breakfast, consisting of granola, yogurt and fruit. It's simple, staple, and doable even for me.

Then I take a seat at the table with JJ and we pass the time with her colouring book. But I can only look at so many pictures of Disney princesses before I have to whip out the good stuff - some car racing games - for my little girl.

The sudden turning of a key in the lock makes my head shoot up, and my race car crashes fantastically against a metal post.

"'Isha's home," JJ hums contentedly, swinging her legs from her perch at the table without looking up from her intense scribbling.

"Yeah," I breathe, my heart launching itself into my throat as I scramble to my feet. He's home.

I stride over to the doorway, consciously collecting myself. A quick mental check confirms that the other adults are upstairs, sleeping in.

Misha is just setting his shoes by the doormat when I round on him. He's covered in a fine sheen of sweat from head to toe, his hair a gorgeous, tousled mess and cheeks flushed red with the sharp, biting wind.

"You don't wanna touch me right now," he breathes, but I've held him sweatier, more exhausted, and I don't mind being coated in his bodily fluids, anyway.

I throw my arms around him and grip him tightly against my body.

"'Isha," JJ's voice sounds from the kitchen. "I wanna show you my drawing!"

Misha chuckles as I nuzzle his neck, breathing him in deep.

"You stay there for a moment, sweetheart," he calls back. "Draw something pretty for daddy." I press my lips to his jaw, just behind his ear, his cheek, and finally his lips.

Misha pulls away after a moment, scrunching his nose up like some kind of adorable sex bunny. "I smell coffee."

"I promise I used the sugar that says Sugar on it this time," I assure him, unable to resist a final peck on his lips. "C'mon and take a quick shower first."

"Care to join me?"

"Are you kidding? You can bet your - hey," I brighten instantly, my face lighting up with the news I've been meaning to tell him. "I thought of names for your ass."

Misha laughs, dropping his voice conspiratorially low as I follow him to the kitchen.

"Tell me while I'm blowing your brains out in the shower."

***

Jared proposes a workout as soon as he wakes up, which I accept eagerly.

Unbeknownst to him, it's my second one today, the first being a steamy romp with Misha that started in the shower, moved to the bathroom floor, and ended up somewhere in the walk-in closet...somehow.

Jared changes and heads over to the gym room ahead of me while I scour the living room for my favourite Adidas nylon-spandex shorts. I could swear I left them on the living room couch, but my wife must've cleaned them up.

"Dani," I holler up the stairs. "Have you seen my black workout shorts?"

There's the sound of shuffling and then drawers banging before Dani responds.

"They're not in our room," she calls back, her voice muffled through the walls.

Sighing impatiently, I take the stairs two at a time.

Just as I'm loping towards the laundry room, Misha's door opens. He's holding his phone up to his ear with one hand and my shorts out with the other.

Here, he mouthes, tossing me the clothing before resuming his conversation with whoever is on the other line.

I slip into his room just before he closes the door again and he cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, buddy, I know; mommy told me." It's West, he mouthes, and a grin spreads across my face as I circle my arms around his waist.

"Hey Westie," I gush into the receiver.

The little boy's voice falters for a moment before he squeals my name. "How's my favourite little guy going," I grin, resting my head in the crook of Misha's neck.

This is the beauty of talking on the phone. I can put my hands all over Misha and no one on the other end of the line is ever the wiser. Even when we livestream together, the audience only sees our faces. They don't see what's going on down below, outside the dimensions of the camera frame. And Misha may be too good of an actor for me to succeed in making him squirm and blush noticeably, but oh, how I enjoy trying.

Before West can reply, Dani's voice calling my name from the hallway makes Misha and I jump guiltily apart.

"Sorry, what was that, baby," Mish turns away to continue the conversation and I jog out of the room.

"Did you find your - oh good," Dani nods when I emerge. "Misha had them?"

"Yeah, you know him," I shrug noncommittally, "always wanting to help with the laundry and stuff. Anyways, Jared's waiting for me in the gym, babe; there's coffee on the kitchen counter. Sorry for waking you."

I give her a quick peck on the cheek and trot back down the stairs, inwardly scouring my memory of nighttime fun with Misha for just what sort of kinky shit resulted in my spandex falling into his possession.