#I barely remembered to open the camera and Misha had to flip the front camera on

[mcavoy-girl]

[ruined-by-destiel]

Making Memories (part 9)

Summary: Misha finds some boxes full of childhood objects in the attic.

Words: 1.1k

Misha x Reader

Warnings: none

Notes: written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @like-a-bag-of-potatoes 12 Days of Christmas Challenge

Day 9: Decorating the tree/house

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You had the next week off for Christmas, so you slept in a little more than usual that morning. You woke up a little after 11, pulling on one of Misha’s hoodies and making your way downstairs when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

The door leading up to the attic was slightly open, light seeping out from inside. You furrowed your brow, pulling your sleeves further up your hands as you headed up the stairs.

Before you reached the top, you could already make out Misha’s figure, hunched over something you could only tell was quite large. You folded your arms, the cooler air nipping at your bare feet, as you neared him.

“What are you doing up here?”

Misha stood up straight, turning to look at you. “Hey. I forgot I had some boxes up here my mom sent a while back.” He kissed your cheek before taking a seat next to the huge box. “Thought I’d see if any of our old Christmas decorations are here.”

You sat down next to him, helping pull of the tape. He pulled back the flaps and smiled, pulling out the top most item. “Oh geez.”

You stifled a laugh when you saw what he was holding. It was a picture of Misha as a kid, sitting in front of a child-sized Christmas tree, grinning toothily at the camera as he clutched a small present to his chest.

“How old are you in this?” You took the picture from his hand, running your fingers over the worn frame.

“Five, I think?” He rummaged through the box. “I remember that tree, though. My mom bought it at a discount store that year because we couldn’t afford a bigger one.”

“You were adorable,” you set the picture aside and peeked inside the box. “Still are, too.”

Misha shook his head, laughing as he continued to pull things out. Something glinted in the corner and you pulled it out, a soft “aww” escaping your lips when you got a better look.

It was a snow globe ornament, complete with “snow” on the inside and everything. In the center stood a tiny doll, with Misha’s face taped over the head. In messy handwriting, on the side of the base, was “Merry Christmas,” and on the bottom, in the same handwriting, “Dmitri Krushnic, 1982.”

“You were what, eight?” You handed the ornament to Misha, who laughed when he saw what you were talking about.

“Yeah, second grade. We all made these to take home to hang on the tree.” He shook the globe a couple times, watching the scraps of paper inside rise and fall quickly. “Eight-year olds should not be entrusted with glue.”

You smiled, digging back into the box as he started opening another box. “Hey, what’s this?”

Misha looked up at the book you were holding. His smile dropped. “She didn’t.”

“Who didn’t what?”

“My mom. She did not keep that.” Misha reached for the book but you held it out of his reach. “Y/N, give it to me.”

You smiled, confused. “What, what is it?”

Misha scrunched his nose, running a hand through his hair. “It’s, erm, well, it’s my first journal. From when I was nine.”

You gasped, standing up. “Misha Collins had a diary? And I have it? Here,” you waved the book in the air, “in my hands?”

“Y/N, no- shit,” Misha scrambled to his feet as you ran down the stairs, flipping through the pages as you read out loud.

“Today at school, Nancy saw me writing during lunch. She said only girls are allowed to have diaries and boys who have them are sissies. Nancy is stupid.” You stopped for a moment in the hallway, watching Misha hurry down the steps. “This Nancy sounds like a real bitch.”

“Y/N-”

You ran downstairs and into the kitchen, standing behind the island as you flipped to another page. “Sasha is stupid. He doesn’t even know how to spell right yet.” You laughed. “Harsh words, Dmitri.”

Misha jumped the last two stairs and finally reached you, bracing his arms on the island. “Give it back.”

“Are you kidding me? This is gold.” You turned the page. “God, I have to call Jared and Jensen later. They’re gonna have a field day.”

Misha darted around the island just as you ran the other way, making a beeline to the living room.

“Ooooh, this one has something about a girl in your class. Who’s Em-” you were cut off as Misha lunged towards you, both of you landing on the couch.

You squirmed under Misha, laughing as he tried to pry the journal from your grip. He finally yanked it out of your hands, throwing it across the room, both of you gasping for breath.

He took a deep breath, smiling down at you. “You’re crazy.”

You giggled, trying to push him off you. “Come on, it’s stupid kid stuff. Now, if you’d had a diary when you were a teenager, that I would like to see.”

“Don’t worry, it’s probably in a box somewhere.” Your eyes widened and Misha immediately regretted saying anything. “No, you are not-”

“To the attic!” You tried to jump up, but Misha was still laying on top of you. You grunted as you tried again, unsuccessfully, to get him off.

He shook his head, kissing your cheek. “We’re going back up, but only because I want to show you what I was unpacking until you started exposing my deepest, darkest secrets.

You hummed as he stood, pulling you up with him. You held onto his hand as you walked up to the attic, and he led you to a smaller box next to the one you’d been looking through.

From the box, he pulled out the tree from the picture you’d seen earlier, adjusting the branches so they stuck out more.

“You kept it?”

Misha nodded, handing you the tree as he picked up the box. “Ever since mom got it for us.” You followed him downstairs and into the living room, where he set the box down near the fireplace.

He took the tree back and set it on the mantle. “Here, put these on.”

He handed you some tiny ornaments from inside the box, the two of you hooking them on the tree until you didn’t have any left.

You touched the top of the tree. “Do you have a star?”

“No,” Misha pulled one last item from the box, “but I have this.”

He placed the miniature angel on top of the tree, then stepping back to admire it. You wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“It’s perfect.”

Misha smiled to himself, hugging you back. “Yeah. It is.”

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[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

SIX

Blinking rapidly, you shook your head. Hands gripped the steering wheel in front of you, the sun washing through the windshield. You realized you were sitting in your driveway; how had you gotten home? This happened sometimes, you’d get in your car and end up at your destination with no real recollection of actually driving.

Stifling a yawn, you shove your key into the deadbolt securing your apartment and are immediately assaulted by the cats you’d left the day before. With how they complained, you’d have thought they hadn’t seen you in a year. “You guys are as bad as dogs, you know that?” Green eyes blinked up at you owlishly before they stalked off, tails twitching in annoyance.

Whispers invaded the edges of your dream, and, try as you might the figures became fuzzy before disappearing altogether. The effort of lifting your heavy lids prevented you from recognizing the person standing at the foot of your bed and you startled, sitting up too fast for the second time in as many days. Stomach lurching, you groaned as the contents swirled for a moment before settling again.

“Ugh, FINALLY!” Cringing as the light was flipped on, your voiced cracked; throat dry. 

“What time is it?” Handing you a glass of water, your sister bounded onto your bed and you had to hold the drink up in the air to keep the cool liquid from sloshing over the sides. 

“It’s five.” “Get up, we’re going out!” With her intentions made clear, the woman next to you let out an inhuman noise, marking her excitement, before rolling off the bed sideways, the cats trailing behind in hopes of dinner as she left the room.

Shuffling out several minutes later, you laughed under your breath as you noticed your sister perched on your couch, wiggling with too much excitement. 

“What?” 

“So uh, I got an interesting call at..oh...2:45 this morning.” 

Grimacing, you dismissed her, a hand covering your face as you sifted through the fridge; suddenly ravenous. 

“Oh yeah?” Feigning interest only got you so far. 

“Yeah, from your new boss.” “You really need to tell me everything, and don’t you DARE gloss over the good stuff.” 

Tilting her head back, she tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth, which earned a slight smile from you, a sigh of defeat sounding as you nodded in acquiescence.

Folding your legs beneath you, you sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to settle for anything but a full account of what had happened the day before.

Recounting the events took less time than you expected, and after asking clarifying questions, a smile spread across her face. 

“When Misha called me this morning from your phone I thought it was you somehow playing a prank on me. I yelled at him and was calling bullshit the entire time until he sent me this.” 

Unlocking her own phone, she scrolled through her texts, finding the one she wanted. Turning the device around, you smiled and groaned as you saw the picture. You were curled up on Misha’s couch, his face framed next to yours on the screen. The man had just met you and he was already looking out for your well being as you vaguely remembered him gently, but firmly steering you away from his front door.

“SO, like I said earlier, we’re going out to celebrate you lucky bitch!”

You couldn’t even see your sister, her head was buried so far in the closet as she rummaged through your belongings. Her muffled voice drifted from the rows of clothing; “Wear this!” 

You scoffed as she pulled a mini skirt from the depths. You’d forgotten you had that to be honest. It’d been years since you’d worn anything even remotely resembling club wear. 

“I’m a little old for that, don’t ya think?” 

“HAH! Don’t be such an old lady - put it on!” 

Snatching it from her grasp, you narrowed your eyes at the jab before turning from her. Stepping into the garment, you grumbled again, complaining that it barely covered your ass. Turning, you grimaced when you saw yourself in the full length mirror hung on your wall. When you moved to tug at the hem, your sister slapped at your hands “leave it alone, you look great.” 

Pulling a distressed AC/DC tank top from a drawer, she threw it at you as she turned to find her own clothes. 

“You do know it’s November, right?” 

“Yeah, so? We’re gonna be drinking and dancing, you’re gonna get overheated, just like you always do.” 

You couldn’t deny her logic. Knowing she was right, but not wanting to admit it, you pulled the shirt over your head.

A frigid winter breeze whipped around your legs as you stepped from your car that evening. For a Saturday night, you had been pleasantly surprised to find parking downtown. Glaring over at your sister, you scoffed at her choice of skinny jeans and a halter top. 

“How come you got to wear pants?” 

She merely laughed at you, waving off your protests as she grabbed your hand, pulling open the door of Toro de Fuego, your first stop for the evening. 

“These guys have the best nachos, you have to try them!” 

An enormous black, wrought iron and glass bull statue stood in the middle of the room, a roaring fire flickering around it’s hooves. With a friendly greeting, a woman in a tight black dress led you to one of the many tables clustered around the massive beast. She handed out menus as you lowered yourself into one of the chairs, conscious of how very short your skirt was.

“We’ll have two orders of your awesome nachos, and I’d like a shot of whatever tequila you recommend.” Smiling, the waiter turned his head to you, silently asking for your drink order. 

“Uhm, iced te--” 

“Oh no, no you don’t. Make that two shots please.” Smiling, the man took your menus, nodding towards your sister before bustling away to fill the order. 

“Come on, you know what happens when I drink tequila,” you whined. You swore her eyes sparkled as she nodded her comprehension. 

Folding her hands on the table before her, she laughed. “I know exactly what happens, which is precisely why I ordered it for you. You need to loosen up a bit, ya prude.”

Stuffing another chip into your mouth, your eyes closed in bliss as the combination of beef, cheese and olives assaulted your senses. After the first shot of tequila, your apprehension had started to let up, and now after your second, you were laughing, completely giddy. 

“I can’t believe my new boss is Misha fucking Collins!” Squealing, you slapped at your sister, who chuckled under her breath. 

“Fuckin’ lucky bitch.” “C’mon, let’s head over to The Kiwi.” Throwing a few twenties down on the table, you pushed out from your chair, teetering only slightly as you wrapped your arm through your sisters, smiling as the two of you left the restaurant.

The Kangaroo and Kiwi was a bar down the street. Housed in an old library building, the multi-story establishment, aside from the sprawling bar, had converted the entire second level into a game room. Making your way to the back end of the first floor, your sister pulled her hand out of yours, shouting that she was going to find a table while you got drinks.

She watched as you threaded your way through through the few groups of people who’d accumulated. To call the walnut-stained structure a table was certainly an understatement, but she laid claim to two of the barstools surrounding the tabletop anyhow. Barely wide enough to support a couple of drink glasses, your sister folded her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting. Smirking, she pulled out her phone, bringing up the camera as she noticed you leaning against the bar, waiting on your drinks.

‘Having a great time celebrating [Y/F/N]’s new position! #girlsnight, #kangaroonkiwi, #drinksallround.’ Posting the update to social media, she put her phone down on the table just as you were returning, chilled cocktails held in each hand.

The raucous laughter intensified as the bar began to fill. At ten o’clock, most every table was now full, the melodic sounds of celtic rock floating over your head had you swaying in your chair. You loved this feeling, the slight buzz resulting from your third drink had plastered a perma-grin on your face. Chin resting in one hand, you stared out into space, seeing nothing but the memories of the previous night flitting through your mind. 

“ ‘Scuse me gehls, I couna ‘elp bet notice yer sittin’ here all alone. Ma naems’ Galen, will ye dance wi me?”

The man standing before you smiled, rich copper hair falling over his bright eyes. You grinned, about to decline when you felt a vice grip around your bare thigh. Leaning into your sister, you whispered into her hair “you’re staring, love.” 

Turning back to the gentleman standing before you, you smiled “I’m okay, but my sister would love to.” 

A small, strangled sound escaped her as the man turned bright green eyes to her, a slow smile spreading across his features. Holding out a hand for your sister, you laughed to yourself as he led her away, a worried expression shot at you over her shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd.

----------------------

Vicki had left early that morning for a guest lecture assignment at a University in California. Shortly after [Y/F/N] had left, Misha had driven her to the airport; dropping the kids off at their grandparents house for the night. While he was often away from home for work, rarely did he have a quiet night to himself with no responsibilities. Clicking the power button on the remote control in his hand, he tossed it on the coffee table in front of him. 

Yawning, he rubbed his hands over his face and stretched. Picking up his phone from the couch next to him, he opened his Instagram feed, mindlessly scrolling through the images posted by his friends and followers. It had taken him only a minute to find your dash and he smiled as he scrolled through your pictures, clicking the follow button. His breath hitched in his throat as the feed updated, the picture your sister had posted now prominently displayed in front of him. 

“Fuuuuccckk” he groaned under his breath. In the black and white image, you appeared to be laughing while ordering drinks. Bent over the top of a busy bar, people flocked on either side of you. Your long [Y/H/C] cascaded in soft waves down your back, brushing the top of the mini skirt you wore. The lighting in the bar was dim, and the filters blurred the people around you, highlighting long legs as they stretched from beneath the fringe of material barely covering your ass.

-----------------------

Your sister returned from her dance, breathless, a sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead. The wide grin spread over her face evidence of the fun she'd had with Galen.

Seeing your phone vibrate on the table-top, you lifted the device into your hand, pulling your gaze from your sister to take a swallow of your drink as you looked down at the notification.

Swiping the screen to check the text message, confusion rolled through your eyes as you noticed it was from Misha. Flicking your gaze up to the time in the corner, you saw that it was approaching midnight.

“Hey babe, miss you already, can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Babe?” Gods he was a tease. Noting the multi-media message, you assumed it was a picture of Misha, but you nearly choked on your drink when your screen lit up, the soft glow illuminating your shocked expression in the darkness of the room.

A shirtless Misha stretched the length of the frame, sharp hip bones framing the thick cock gripped in his hand. Unconsciously, your thighs snapped together as you clutched the phone to your chest, your heart thudding frantically. 

A strangled cry and the coughing that resulted caught your sister’s attention and her eyes narrowed “You uh, you okay hun?” 

Your eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock as you lifted your gaze to your sister’s face. Unintelligible noises fell from your lips as she came around to your side of the table, looking down at the screen you held clutched in your hands. 

“Ho-Oh! Who sent tha--oh fuck! Uh. Wow. You, uh, you sure nothing happened last night?” 

Her eyes flicked back and forth between you and the image clutched in your shaky hands.

“Wha-what do I do?!” You were flailing a bit now, trying to calm your frantic pulse. Snatching the phone from your hands, your sister hit reply, typing out a message before hitting the send button. 

“There, taken care of!” Looking down at the sent messages, you paled upon seeing what she’d written:

“Babe? Really?! You’re killing me right now. Tease.”

----------------------

Misha, concerned, glanced at the notification. “Why is [Y/F/N] texting me?” Flicking open the message, confusion chased over his features as he read the text. Scrolling back through his sent notes, he was about to ask for clarification when he saw it...

Fingers deftly moved over his keyboard, and he hit send before scrambling off the couch, running his hand through his hair.

----------------------

You jumped as the phone buzzed in your hand, hesitant as you opened the message:

“Fuck.”

----------------------

He’d meant to send that to Vicki. She was his assistant for fuck’s sake, what was she going to think now?

Grabbing the phone he'd abandoned, he clicked on Vicky’s contact image before highlighting the green call button. It was after midnight but he had to ask her what to do.

She answered on the fourth ring, sleep laced through her breathless voice. “Mish, babe, what's wrong?”

When he'd finished recounting the mistaken text he'd sent, she was quiet on the other end. For a space of heartbeats he wondered if she'd fallen back to sleep. 

“Vicki?” 

The laughter that assaulted his phone could have been heard by anyone, had he not been alone. It took her several minutes, but finally she calmed enough to let him know he was on his own. 

“Ah, ha. You uh, good luck with that one love. Lemme know how that works out for ya.” With a soft click, Misha held the phone out in front of him. Incredulous.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven