FIC: Daemon Verse-Updated 7/6

[cloudy_verses]

Title: Daemon Verse
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Jensen/Misha, Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: RPS
Summary: Misha and Jensen meet in a coffee shop one day. Their daemons, Dean and Castiel, are instantly drawn to each other. Jensen and Misha have a harder time of it.
Author's Notes: This is based on Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials and is an RPS/SPN crossover. Read with caution if that second thing makes you uncomfortable. Or hey, the first thing might too if you have a strong animal and/or character transformation squick.




"We gotta stop going out together," Jensen comments one afternoon as he watches Dean and Sam tumble and play across the floor. There's really nothing inherently romantic about the daemons' interactions, but it's so easy for people to get the wrong idea.

"You don't love me anymore, do you?"

Jared makes his patented puppy dog face, which somehow looks even more genuine on his features than on his daemon's, despite the fact that Sam actually is a dog.

Not that Jensen is fooled for a moment. He's been best friends with Jared far too long to fall for his act.

"I never loved you," he says and chuckles when Jared sticks out his tongue. "No, but seriously, your daemon is needy and people get the wrong idea."

He chooses not to acknowledge the fact that Dean is the one who keeps tackling Sam to the ground.

Jared looks around the coffee shop. The only other customers beside themselves are a group of college aged girls giggling and chatting in the corner. When they catch Jared looking at them, he grins and winks, drawing a collective blush across their faces.

"I don't really see anyone here who's your type," he says as he turns back to Jensen.

"I'm just saying...you remember that guy last week at the bookstore? The blond?"

Jensen is pretty sure this man wasn't 'the one', but he was cute and blushed at Jensen's smile. And then Sam had trotted around the corner and started slobbering on Dean's shoulder. Somehow, blond guy kinda lost interest after that.

"Yeah, yeah, look, you don't want to date someone who isn't secure enough to see your daemon being affectionate with someone else and not flip out," Jared argues.

"Right except that's after they already trust me, not before we've even met. And it's easy for you to say anyway," he says with a scowl. "You and Sam go home every night to Gen and Ruby. I go home to-"

"Me," Dean says as he slinks back into Jensen's lap. "I should have known I'd never be enough."

Jensen strokes the soft hair at the back of Dean's neck. Immediately, his tension begins to drain away as it always does when he's close to Dean. His daemon shivers lightly in his arms and burrows in closer, seeking heat and familiarity.

"I know," Jared says and he does sound genuinely sympathetic. "I can, you know...maybe you should go out with other-"

"No, dude." Guilt curls in Jensen's chest. He feels Dean stiffen with it and gives him a reassuring squeeze. "No, that's stupid. You're right. People should just take me as I am, creepy co-dependent overly physical relationship with my best friend and all."

"That's the spirit," Sam pipes up from his place at Jared's feet.

"Besides, I think we're doomed to be alone forever anyway," Dean announces. "Every guy you meet sucks ass, dude. And not in the good way."

Jared wrinkles his nose.

"Quit being so melodramatic," Sam says as he licks the bottom of his paw. "You'll meet someone. Just quit looking and you'll find him. That's how it worked for us."

Sam has a point. Jared had all, but stopped dating when Gen transferred into his department at work and they got together almost immediately.

"Alright, in that case, I quit," Jensen announces. "I am giving up on men and love and sex-"

"Hey," Dean complains.

"And sex," Jensen repeats. "I don't care anymore."

The bell to the shop rings to signal a customer. Jared glances to the door, but Jensen is too busy moping and staring at the floor to notice. This is a lousy idea. He's not much for serial dating, but pretending he doesn't care when he so clearly does is hard. It's not easy for Jensen to be anything, but what he is.

"Dude," Dean breathes. A feeling sweeps into Jensen's chest from his daemon, heady and overwhelming.

"What?"

Dean points his little paw towards the counter and Jensen finally looks up. There's a man staring up at the menu. He's wearing quite possibly the ugliest sweater Jensen's ever seen and while his body shape is attractive enough, he can't quite get a good look at his face. But that's not what caught Dean's attention.

The man's hawk daemon is staring straight at Dean.

His bright blue eyes are sharp and calculating, his focus complete and Jensen can feel Dean struggling with the dual urges to whip his tail at the hawk's face and roll over so the hawk can nuzzle his sensitive belly. It's the most intense reaction Dean's had to a daemon in a long time and it makes Jensen wish the man would turn so he could get a good look at him.

"See something you like?" Jared asks in amusement.

"Shut up."

Jared hops up from his chair and picks Sam up, clutching him to his chest. "Well, look, I gotta run. You coming for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, sure."

They watch as Jared leaves and at the last second, just after he passes the man, Jared turns into him and grins.

"In case you were wondering, I'm not seeing that man over there," he says, pointing to Jensen. "In fact, no one is."

Jensen slinks down in his chair as far as he can, but it won't swallow him. Dean makes a rude gesture at Sam. He's going to kill him. Murder him slowly and enjoy watching Sam disappear in a puff of golden sparks.

And then the man turns.

Jensen stomach tangles in knots.

The guy's eyes are as blue as his daemon's, but they're much friendlier. Warm and kind and amused and-

He falls into them without thinking to grab hold of something to keep from drowning.

"Dude," Dean says again, sounding dazed.

"Yeah," Jensen agrees.

Looks like Jared was right about that not-caring thing after all.

******************

Misha knows Castiel is watching something he likes.

Not many other people could tell. Castiel's dark blue eyes stay cold and hard in public, effectively shutting out the people Misha doesn't want in his head.

But Misha doesn't need to see his daemon to feel the insistent tug of interest or the sharp hard pulse of attraction he feels. Neither of which surprises Misha all that much. Castiel may embody Misha's reserved side, but he feels as deeply as any other healthy daemon.

No, it's not the interest or the attraction that throws Misha.

It's the longing.

Whatever he is seeing, Castiel wants it. As hard and as desperately as he's ever wanted anything and it unnerves Misha. Usually it's Misha barging his way into ill-advised relationships and Castiel is the one that has to pull them back, exercise the restraint and common sense Misha sometimes forgets he has in spades. They've never done it the other way round, but Misha already knows he won't deny Castiel this, not when his daemon so rarely reaches out first.

He tries to imagine who Castiel sees, cuts off his direct connection with the daemon and plays the game. It's surely male. Probably on the small side. Four-legged and furry. In contrast to his sharp angles and imposing features, Castiel has always preferred a cuddlier daemon.

"Am I close?" he asks quietly as the barista wanders away to fill his drink order.

"Yes," Castiel says. "He seems torn over whether he wants to gaze or scowl at me."

Misha laughs quietly. "You always choose difficult ones."

But Castiel doesn't share the joke. A sharp punch of disappointment falls across his longing, turning it bleak.

"What's wrong?" Misha asks in alarm. He's not used to this bright intense sensation. It heightens every little emotion a hundredfold and for a brief moment, Misha considers running.

Castiel's claws dig into his shoulder. "Don't be a coward," he admonishes. "The daemon has a mate, I believe. A beagle." He steps in closer to Misha's face and rubs his feathers along Misha's cheek, seeking comfort.

"He's not alone," Castiel says and Misha understands him well enough to know he's trying to be happy about it, that the daemon isn't lonely. He flicks the tip of Castiel's wing.

"Don't be a martyr," he says. "You don't really think he's happy with that other daemon."

Castiel rustles his feathers and chooses not to answer.

The barista returns with his drink and Misha pays. He knows he should look back, see what has Castiel so wrapped up, but the idea requires some liquid courage. He sips the coffee. It's not going to be a pleasant mental image, the undoubtedly beautiful human attached to Castiel's daemon sharing an intimate pose with some idiot.

"He's coming over," Castiel whispers. "The idiot."

Suddenly, there's a massive man in Misha's line of sight. He touches Misha's unoccupied shoulder and gives him a grin a mile wide.

"In case you were wondering, I'm not seeing that man over there," he says, nodding towards where Castiel's been watching, his long brown hair falling into his eyes. "In fact, no one is."

Then he turns and lopes off, his beagle daemon sticking his tongue out at the other daemon. Misha's heart pounds in his ears. Just friends then. Teasing each other and telling Misha they're not dating because-

He spins around and finally sees. And Castiel was right. The daemon is beautiful, a charming otter form with pretty green eyes that stare at Castiel.

The human is even better.

Misha smiles. He always knew his daemon was the smart one in this relationship.

******************

"So I hear this seat isn't taken."

Jensen feels himself blushing. Okay, so the guy is obviously interested. It doesn't mean he's not going to torment Jared later.

"Yeah. I'm mean, no, it's not," Jensen stutters. The man's smile widens. It makes his merry blue eyes even more captivating.

"I'm Misha," he says as he seats himself. "And this is Castiel," he adds, shaking his shoulder slightly to indicate the fierce eyed hawk daemon perched there.

"Castiel?" Dean asks skeptically.

"My parents' daemons were odd." Misha crosses his legs. "Well, my parents were odd as well."

"Jensen," he introduces himself and petting Dean's head, "Dean."

Castiel flutters down to Misha's lap and hops till he's standing on Misha's knee. The way he stares at Dean makes Jensen feel odd. Not bad, just...strange. As if Dean should do whatever necessary to ensure he pleases Castiel. The idea makes Dean huff and cross his little arms across his chest. Castiel cocks his head and stares all the harder.

"What's with your friend?" Misha asks pleasantly. It's like he's totally unaware that his daemon is locked in an intense staring contest with Jensen's.

"Oh, that's just Jared," Jensen says. "He's been my friend since we were kids. Our mothers grew up together too. He feels it's his duty to find me dates," Jensen explains, only blushing a little at the open mention of a possible date.

"We thought you were taken," Castiel suddenly says to Dean. His voice is low and dark, an unexpected contrast to Misha's light tenor.

Misha shifts in his chair and for the first time, he seems a little uncomfortable.

"It was just a passing thought," Misha says with a stilted chuckle.

"It's okay," Jensen says slowly. He glances at Dean, but his daemon is too ensnared in Castiel's gaze to glance back. "You wouldn't be the first person to think so, but we're just friends."

"Of course," Misha says with an awkward smile.

"I'm glad you're not with him," Castiel says. He suddenly lifts his wings and glides down next to Dean. Jensen can tell by the way Misha jumps with surprise that he wasn't expecting it either.

"Why's that?" Dean asks thickly.

The moment is abruptly tense. Their daemons hover so closely, nearly touching and Jensen senses Misha's confused swirl of emotion. But he can't really concentrate on anything except the deep pull Dean feels to Castiel, the obvious claim Misha's daemon wants to make on his.

"I-"

But Misha cuts him off. He reaches out and snatches Castiel up into his arms. His eyes look wild, even panicked.

"It was nice to meet you both," he says quickly and then, clutching Castiel closely to his chest, Misha bolts out the door.

Dean shakes himself as if coming out of a daze.

"What the hell?"

Jensen pulls him into his lap.

"I have no idea," he admits. Dean turns in his arms and snuggles into the crook of his elbow.

"But we're going to find them later, right?"

Jensen nods.

"Oh yeah."

******************

"What were you thinking?" Misha hisses to Castiel as he stomps along the street towards his apartment.

"I wasn't thinking," Castiel says matter-of-factly. "I want him."

"Shut up!" Misha snaps.

People passing by stare at him and move well out of his way. Anyone else might have been embarrassed being seen arguing with his own daemon, but Misha could care less. He needs to understand what's going on in his own head and fighting with Castiel is the quickest way to figure it out.

"You nearly touched him!" Misha turns Castiel in his hands and holds the hawk up to eyelevel. "We don't even know them and you nearly touched him!"

"Why did you stop me?" Castiel clicks his beak angrily. "I wanted to feel him."

He leans forward, his already gruff voice deepening to a grumble.

"You wanted to feel Jensen."

And there's the rub. Misha could pretend this is just his rogue daemon trying to molest another man's daemon. But it's so much more than that.

Misha wants Jensen.

He pauses on the stoop outside his building. It isn't as if Misha hadn’t noticed that Jensen is very attractive. That was the whole point of excitedly going to sit by him. It should have been nothing more than innocent flirting that maybe led to a date. Letting Castiel take the lead on choosing their next conquest is one thing.

But Misha should be able to control his own daemon.

"You scared me," Misha admits softly as he sits on the steps. Castiel hops in close to Misha's belly and lays his head against Misha's chest.

"I'm sorry," Castiel croons, rubbing his beak along Misha's collarbone, offering comfort and support.

In this, they are a strange pair. Castiel has always been the more stable one. He watches out for Misha and leads them away from pitfalls, from the little hurts Misha just can't see coming. When Castiel charges forward, Misha doesn't know how to act.

"But Misha," Castiel murmurs after a long quiet moment, "I only acted on what we felt."

"Yeah, I know."

He strokes Castiel's soft brown head feathers. The idea of never seeing Jensen and Dean again is not a happy one.

"We'll try again later," Castiel says decidedly. Misha raises an eyebrow at him.

"Oh we will then?"

"Yes." Castiel digs his claws into Misha's knees and only Misha would recognize the smile that develops in his small blue eyes when Misha yelps softly.

"I will finish what you stopped," Castiel declares.

Misha pulls him into a hug.

"You're scary, Cas," he whispers.

"I know."

******************

It doesn't take much effort to track Misha down. With their unusual names, Jensen just has to type 'Misha and Castiel' into Google and he receives dozens of results. It turns out that Misha writes a weekly column for one of the local papers. At first Jensen doesn't really understand the purpose of the column. The topics vary wildly. From the best way to make jello shots to his recent trip to England to what Jensen assumes is a made-up story about elves living in the park across from Misha's apartment. It takes nearly two hours slipping through Jensen's fingers without his notice for him to realize that basically Misha is paid to be random on paper.

An extremely entertaining variety of random.

Dean reads along with Jensen and at every mention of Castiel, he wiggles happily and at one point, even flips over on his back so Jensen can scratch his belly. Not that Jensen needed the clue, but Dean only ever does that when he's extremely excited. If Jensen couldn't sense his own growing anticipation, he'd need look no further than Dean's restless grooming and little tail flaps to know that he seriously wants to see Misha again.

"So we're agreed," Jensen says as he finally clicks off the web page for Misha's column. The damned thing is seriously addicting. "We're going to be creepy and track them down even though they're kind of weird?"

Dean nods and crawls up on Jensen's shoulder.

"Yeah, now get a move on. Time's a wasting," he says, pointing out with one paw and patting Jensen's chest with the other.

Never one to keep his daemon waiting, Jensen abandons his computer and begins his journey into downtown where the newspaper offices are located. He almost lets himself decide he really is being too creepy, but then he remembers the way Castiel zeroed in on Dean, flying right to his side and nearly reaching out to touch and claim.

Jensen thinks after all that, he has the right to track down the bastard.

The building that houses the paper offices edges the corner of a busy intersection. In front of it there stands a massive fountain. Sprinkled here and there around the fountain and the surrounding benches are people dressed in smart business suits eating lunch or talking on phones. Jensen's stomach rumbles. He hadn't realized it's nearly time to eat.

"Good. We can ask them to lunch," Dean says. He rubs at his belly and Jensen knows he's already daydreaming of stealing food from Castiel.

It's a great plan as far as Jensen's concerned, but he quickly sees the problem with it.

Misha's already eating lunch.

He's sitting on the stone bench that circles the fountain. A cloud of mist hangs over his head, but judging from his grin and the way he's obliterating the sandwich in his hands, Misha doesn't mind. There's a fairly good-looking man sitting beside him, eating his own sandwich and as Jensen watches, Misha and the new guy apparently lay into a heated debate.

Which is all well and good. In fact, the energy of the conversation paints a blush high on Misha's cheeks and makes him look even more handsome than usual.

It's their daemons that stops Jensen short.

He knows Misha is single, knows he wouldn't have approached Jensen the way he did if he weren't. But that doesn't stop the awkward feeling he gets when he sees Castiel nestled comfortably atop the other man's large dog daemon.

Jensen pauses and wonders. How long did Misha know this man before they reached that level of intimacy? What is it about this guy that makes Misha feel comfortable? What is it about Jensen that made him run away so quickly?

And for Pete’s sake, how can one person be so damned different from their daemon? Misha's gesticulating wildly, pieces of vegetables flying out of his sandwich as he makes a particularly violent point in his argument and Castiel is glaring out from his roosting position, silently listening as the dog daemon murmurs in his ear.

"Maybe this is too weird," Jensen says, suddenly unsure of himself.

"I swear, if you stop us from getting laid one more time, so help me-" Dean starts, but he's cut off when Misha unexpectedly looks up and meets Jensen's gaze.

The change that comes over him is instant and extreme. The smile falls off his mouth and those fickle blue eyes widen with sudden panic. Jensen grits his teeth and spins around.

This is stupid. They've barely exchanged five sentences and already Jensen's experienced more ups and downs in this relationship than in ones that were actual relationships. It's too much work, he thinks to himself as he stomps back down the street.

A breezy sort of noise rolls over his ears and before Jensen can identify it, he's very nearly walking into Castiel.

"Don't go," Castiel says, his slowly flapping wings keeping him at Jensen's eye-level. Dean struggles in Jensen's arms, reaching forward and that's when it happens.

Castiel's lands on Dean's arm.

When Dean touches other daemons, it usually feels like stepping into warm water, feeling the sense of that other person calmly wash over him, allowing Jensen to feel an echo of their emotions.

But this is totally different.

This is an explosion.

All at once, bursting into Jensen's mind and heart. Misha's feelings, his desire and fear, the longing tinged with panic, the strange mixture of manic eccentricities and solid dependability. It all crashes over Jensen and it doesn't make any more sense now that it did before, except he wants to curl up in it. Castiel opens a wing, draws Dean closer and Jensen spins around, seeking his counterpart.

Misha is staring at the three of them, huddled together and there's an emotion in his eyes that's so confusing, Jensen doesn't even recognize at first.

Loneliness.

Misha's watching his daemon make a physical claim over another and he's lonely.

The breath slowly leaves Jensen's lungs.

He wasn't wrong. This is a very unusual pair. But unlike before, Jensen feels no doubt. All he wants is to reach out and erase that expression from Misha’s face. Jensen wants that more than he’s wanted anything in a long time and if he, Dean and Castiel have to gang up on Misha, well...

So be it.

******************

Years Earlier

Castiel doesn't settle until Misha is nearly fifteen years old. There's far too many strange and fascinating creatures to become and even though Misha senses Castiel's growing desire to choose a form, they plunge on from one animal to the next and ignore the worried discussions his parents have behind closed doors.

The teasing starts when Misha begins seventh grade and his daemon is the only one in class who hasn't settled. He gets sent to the school counselor who gives him pamphlets with titles like, "Settling-Overcoming Your Fear" and "Learning to Trust Your Daemon." Misha tries to explain that he trusts Castiel more than anyone else he knows. They just like to experiment. Misha can't imagine gathering Castiel into his arms and knowing he won't ever change again. Puberty must be far too young to make a decision about yourself for life. Misha thinks it's not healthy and though Castiel believes it quite normal, he does admit to enjoying the freedom of moving seamlessly from form to form.

Misha doesn't mind if the other kids tease. It's better to be looked at funny than not seen at all. Still, they get lonely. Castiel watches the other daemons, hungry for their touch, but every time another kid talks to Misha, every time they pay him attention, Castiel inadvertently mimics their daemon. He's learning them, understanding their temperament by seeing the world as their daemon does. But the other kids don't get it. They think Castiel's a freak. Even Misha's teacher twitches slightly when she catches Castiel staring at her robin daemon as he tries to perfectly match the deep rich red of her feathers.

He decides he'll be an outcast. The kind that grows up to be productive and successful because their young torment inspires great bursts of manic creativity. At 12, Misha understands that art can only really be created by the truly wretched.

But then Philip moves to town. He shows up in class one day, clutching a dark brown rabbit daemon under one arm and sporting a sunny smile that Misha returns eagerly. Most of the other kids shift uneasily at Philip's obvious display of emotion, but Misha likes it. The teacher sends Philip to sit in his new desk and it’s the one right beside Misha. Even as he sits, Castiel is fluffing dark brown fur and flicking his new long ears. Philip looks over at his daemon's copycat and grins again.

"Cool," he whispers.

They decide to become best friends at recess.

Misha's never had a best friend. He likes people and he loves his family, but he's never had one special friend that chose him over all the others. Philip doesn't even give the other options a second thought. His daemon Andrew hops right up to Castiel and bumps their identical noses together.

"Most people think rabbit daemons are lame," Philip explains. "Because they're quiet and well...kinda fluffy."

"I like things that hop," Misha says very seriously. "So few creatures travel exclusively through hopping."

Castiel nuzzles Andrew's cheek and a warm feeling of safety flows between them and through Misha.

"How come you ain't settled yet?" Philip asks. Misha admires his bluntness.

"I don't ever want to settle," Misha informs him. "I don't want to be boring."

"I'm not boring!" Philip argues and they spend the rest of recess bickering. Right before class starts again, Misha tells Philip they're best friends and Philip agrees.

******************

They become inseparable. Castiel spends almost an entire week as a brown rabbit. It's the longest he's ever been anything and Misha's mother almost starts celebrating. Until Misha stumbles up to the breakfast table one morning and Castiel flutters down onto the napkin holder as a large monarch butterfly.

"Oh Misha," she says. "Aren't you ever going to let Castiel pick something nice?"

"He wants to become an elephant," Misha confides as he butters a piece of toast. "But I think that's a little too obvious, don't you?"

She just shakes her head and opens the paper.

Philip likes that Castiel hasn't settled. They spend many recesses hidden away behind the slides while Philip suggests stranger and stranger animals for Castiel to imitate. His favorite is the bright yellow moon moth. He says he likes the patterns along Castiel's giant wings.

"'Sides, Castiel needs wings," Philip says decidedly. "So you can always fly away if you need to."

The weeks slide away into months. Philips becomes a permanent fixture at Misha's house. It gets to the point where Misha's mother is surprised when she sees Castiel without a big brown rabbit under him. Misha likes it when Castiel perches atop Andrew's large solid presence. No matter what's happening around him, Castiel always stands on a firm foundation.

Even if that foundation does hop in place when it’s excited.

The kids at school tease Misha again, but instead of teasing him for being an unsettled loner, they tease him for being too close to someone. The teachers’ worried looks now mean they wonder at the way Castiel and Andrew huddle together, at the obvious display of the dependence growing between the two boys. There's no one at home for Philip. His father is his only family and he moved Philip to Misha's hometown so he could take a job that keeps him away from Philip for long hours and most weekends. When he's not at school or at Misha's house, Philip's always at the sitter's house. Between his less than ideal home life and Misha's general weirdness, they make a rather pathetic duo.

They'll be famous together one day, Misha thinks. Channel their childhood angst into song and lyrics perhaps. They'd make an awesome band. When Misha suggests they learn instruments, Philip grumbles, but ultimately agrees to take guitar lessons while Misha favors the piano.

The garage becomes an important meeting place for their band. Once Misha gets permission to drag the electronic keyboard there, they begin rehearsals for their band, which Misha names The Dapper Squids. Philip complains that he doesn't even know what 'dapper' means, but they both agree squids are awesome, so Philip eventually lets it go. They never write any songs or really learn what the hell they are doing, but those long hours locked away in that stuffy old garage mean everything to Misha. It is where he feels the safest. Where Castiel is at his most relaxed. In their garage, Castiel talks more than he ever does in public. He transforms into creatures with large expressive eyes and cuddles up next to Andrew while their humans butcher famous rock songs on their respective instruments. The garage is where Misha cries in front of a non-relative for the first time. Where he gets his one and only black eye during a particularly explosive bickering match. Where he gets his first kiss.

And it’s where Castiel finally settles.

Things begin to change when Misha enters high school. He's known Philip for two years, but it’s not until then that he starts to notice things about Philip he hadn't before. Like how very green Philip's eyes really are. Or the way his long black hair falls into his eyes when he's staring down at one of his many comic books. Misha starts to feel a quivery nervous tension in his stomach when Andrew rubs his soft cheek against Castiel's. There are dreams that make Misha feel hot and cold all over and make it hard to look at Philip in the eye the next day.

The comments they get all the time start to really catch Misha's attention. Instead of just saying they're pansies for hanging on each other all the time, Misha hears other things. He hears kids whispering about how Misha 'has the hots' for Philip. He hears them talking about how obvious Castiel is and can he see how transparent he's being, that everyone knows what he's feeling. Everyone except Misha because even with the dreams and the nerves and the odd aching desire to press closer to Philip, Misha doesn't really understand until he hears those murmurings.

"Are you okay?" Philip asks one day as he plucks uselessly at his guitar.

"I think we should kiss," Misha announces abruptly. Castiel changes rapidly from a kitten to a raven to a monkey. Philip frowns, his thick eyebrows drawing down together. Andrew skips up to Castiel and pats his face.

"What?"

"I think it would be a good idea if we kissed because I think I might like you and this would help me decide," Misha explains patiently.

Castiel changes once again, this time into an osprey.

"Um, okay. I guess," Philip says uncertainly. Misha takes the guitar from his hands and sets it aside, tugging him to his feet. Philip has grown several inches taller than Misha, but it’s a close enough match that Misha barely has to lift off his heels to reach Philip's mouth. He's seen more than enough movies to avoid the awkward nose bump, but it's still an odd sensation to press his mouth against his best friend's lips and for a moment, Misha thinks he's made a terrible mistake.

Then Andrew leans in against Castiel and rubs his cheek against the shaggy brown feathers of his wing.

Sudden shocking heat blooms in Misha's chest. He knows Philip feels it too when the other boy makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and eagerly threads his arms around Misha's waist, lifting him with the solid dependable strength Misha sometimes forgets Philip possesses. Misha nearly pulls away when the kiss deepens, initially freaked by the feel of a foreign tongue in his mouth, but the impulse quickly fades when the hot feeling in his stomach abruptly settles in his groin.

The only reason they stop is because a car horn outside signals that Misha's dad is home from work.

"So, um," Philip says, arms still firmly clenched around Misha's waist. "Did you...did it work?"

"Oh yes," Misha says solemnly. "Mission accomplished."

"Good." Behind them, Castiel opens his wing, stroking Andrew's fur with the outside of it and Philip smiles. "Castiel should always have wings," he echoes his younger self.

"O-okay," Misha stammers. The mix of warm familiarity and the heat of new desires makes it difficult to think, let alone speak.

After that, they try to find time to kiss each other at least once a day. Misha's not stupid enough to think he's ready to try having sex. He doesn't want his first time story to involve an over dependence on words like 'awkward', 'gangly' and 'pre-mature.' But the kissing is really quite nice and the feelings that flow between Castiel and Andrew are even nicer. Their daemons are now so obvious that Misha doesn't even flinch when kids call Philip his boyfriend, doesn't try lying when Misha's mother asks him about their relationship. Nothing really changes except Misha's mom makes them keep the garage door open, so it's harder to find time for kissing. They glide along as they always did. A little bit boyfriends and all the way best friends and just before Misha's fifteenth birthday, he thinks maybe he's a little bit in love.

He's waiting for Philip to show up one afternoon when his mother brings him the news.

Her eyes are so thick with tears that they blur or maybe that's Misha's tears; he never quite figures it out. He hears some of the words. Accident and lost control and killed instantly. He thinks maybe he curls in, definitely feels arms around his shoulders, a voice in his ear. Castiel trembles in his arms, shocked senseless and quiet. His wings flap wildly. Once, twice and it takes Misha a moment to understand that Castiel is reaching for Andrew and it hurts so much that Misha's mind whites out. His tears run dry and he stills.

"Misha?" His mother's voice is tentative, even frightened. Misha shakes himself.

"I'm okay," he lies, doesn't even know why. Castiel struggles out of his arms and shakes his feathers out. Misha meets his gaze. This new form's eyes are hard and blank. Impenetrable. Misha touches the sleek brown feathers on his head.

"You can't be okay," she protests. "Oh honey. Oh baby, I'm so sorry. Oh Misha."

Castiel raises his head, lifts himself up and he is all sharp dangerous angles.

"No, mom," Misha says quietly. "I'll be okay."

He wears a smile and Castiel stays the same.

******************

Born between a charming older brother and aggressive younger sister, Jensen is the quiet one. The serious one. The good student, the dependable child. Not that his siblings are hellions. But his brother brings home a new friend every day and his sister changes hobbies faster than his parents can buy the supplies for each one. Jensen isn't like that. He's steadfast in his interests. When he's three years old, his mother hands him a box of crayons and a piece of construction paper and Jensen never looks back. He's almost never without a pencil or paintbrush, anything he can use to turn the ordinary into art. Left to his own devices, Jensen will have everything around him broken into pieces and rebuilt into something entirely new. It gets to the point where his mother hates washing his dinner dishes because she doesn't like destroying the designs he makes with his leftover food.

Dean likes playing in paint. Before he settles, they experiment with different shapes. Dean turns into a duck, dips his little feet in paint and walks along the edge of Jensen's wooden desk. His father gives him a good talking to for that one, but it doesn't stop them from rolling Dean's beaver tail in acrylic paint and slapping it against Jensen's bedroom door. Eventually, his parents give up and tell Jensen to at least put newspaper down before he gets creative. The mention of newspaper gives Jensen ideas and he ends up covering Dean's various forms in paper Mache. Most kids have pictures of all their daemons early forms. Jensen has life-size models.

This is not to say that Dean changes a lot. When he likes something, he really likes it. The month he spends as a lizard when Jensen is seven makes his parents worry that he's settled too soon. While his brother and sister's daemons change daily, Dean only really changes when Jensen's creating his artwork.

Or when he's playing with Jared.

Jared is born when Jensen is four years old. The son of his mother's best friend and next door neighbor, Jared is a part of Jensen's life from the first moment of his own. One of Jensen's earliest memories is changing Dean into a moth and letting him settled down on Sam's head, so Jared would laugh. That's when Jensen learns the only way he'll ever get anyone to like him. He can't rely on his shy quiet personality. The children at school have made that abundantly clear. No one hates Jensen. But he's so often overlooked that Jensen figures he must be very dull.

Instead, he relies on Dean. It's easy with Jared. Jared laughs at everything. In all his life, Jensen never meets anyone as easy-going and cheerful as Jared. From the time he's six months old, everyone knows Sam will settle as a friendly dog. Even if he does have his bitchy side and once provoked, Jensen and Dean are pretty much the only ones who can talk him down. Once he learns to walk and talk, he and Jensen easily fall into the role of best friends. Once again, Jensen is the quiet serious one, but it's Dean who’s the goofball. He's the one who says the outrageous thoughts Jensen's too cautious to speak himself. Like his artwork, Dean becomes an expression of everything Jensen doesn't know how to put into words.

He settles when Jensen's eleven years old. Nothing makes Jared laugh harder than seeing Dean's otter form slap Sam off his feet with his strong tail. His mother says it’s a strange preference, a funny little creature for her bashful little boy to choose. But Jensen looks at Dean's teasing grin, his comical expressions and he loves him. He sees how the other kids at school finally really notice him. For the first time in his life, Jensen can be more than just the shy one.

Dean is Jensen's most clever creation and he's perfect.

*****************

Present Day


The Lovell gallery is a narrow space squashed between a bank and a pottery store. It has a blink-and-you'll-miss-it exclusive quality to it that Misha imagines makes it a prime location in the art world. Not that he knows anything about art in particular. He vaguely remembers writing an article years ago about paintings coming alive in museums at night, but that hardly counts as knowledge of the art world. Quite frankly, Misha is rather impressed with Jensen's career. He'd spent the previous evening researching him on the internet. According to all sources, Jensen is something of a hit in the art community. Misha always assumed artists didn't amount to anything until after they died. He's rather relieved to discover otherwise.

"We should go in," Castiel says from Misha's shoulder.

"Yeah, probably," Misha agrees. He's already slightly late. Through the darkened windows, he can see a crowd of nicely dressed people moving slowly past the pieces hanging on the walls. His ratty jeans and blue button down probably aren't entirely appropriate. Misha smiles.

He never did like being appropriate.

When he walks in, a young woman hands him a pamphlet. There's a sort of stylized coin on the front that Misha thinks looks fairly stupid and along the top are the words,'A series of coins and their two sides-A presentation of duality by Jensen Ackles.

Artists, Misha thinks to himself with a fond eye roll.

The first piece is a simple painting, large, but done with conventional materials. A small white card beside it reads, Love/Hate. Though Misha can see where the separation happens within the painting, it looks very similar on either side. All is vibrant colors, raised edges of thick heavy paint and frantic designs. Obviously the message is one of passion. Misha agrees with Jensen's assessment. These are two of the humanity's most involved and exhausting emotions. The biggest difference across the canvas is the impression of warmth Misha gets from the 'love' side. Hatred has just as much fervor with none of the benefits.

His favorite part of the piece is what are clearly otter paw prints speckled on either side of the painting. He understands the feeling one hundred percent. As much as he loves Castiel, there are times when he hates him just as ardently.

Overall, Misha likes the piece. Another relief. He figures loathing what your date does for a living would put a damper on the relationship pretty quickly.

"You have to be Misha," a man's voice says to his left. Misha glances at the newcomer. He's short and tousle-haired and his smile is a twisting smirk. A small fox daemon with a pointed face and identical smug expression rests at his feet.

"You must be a stranger," Misha replies.

"You're the reason my talent's been a distracted mess all day," the man says as he walks up to Misha's side and begins peering at the painting.

"Your talent?"

"This is my gallery," the man says. He offers his hand. "I'm Richard and this is Gabriel." The daemon nods politely at Castiel, though the smirk still plays around his dark mouth.

"Apparently, I need no introduction," Misha says as they shake hands. "But this is Castiel. Jensen's been a mess all day?"

"Even more than normal on a show day," Richard confides. "He's a basket case, you know. I'd dump him quick before you get in too deep."

It's obvious from Richard's open affection and teasing tone that he's kidding, but Misha wonders whether he'd make the same joke if he knew how close Misha came to doing that very thing. Castiel clamps down on his shoulder lightly as a reminder to pay close attention to what Misha is feeling right now. He's standing in a beautiful room with polished hard wood floors and snobby patrons looking at the visual expression of a handsome man's creativity. A handsome man who went a bit nuts today just because Misha was coming to see his work and if Misha had kept running, he wouldn't be fighting off an uncharacteristic blush right now.

Castiel may fight what Misha wants, but that's only because he knows so well what Misha needs.

"If you tell me where he is, I'll do just that," Misha says.

"He's towards the back, but you can't interrupt him now. He's talking to the art reporters and if he sees you, he'll go stupid again."

It's something of a comfort to know that Misha isn't the only one who can be stupid between the two of them.

"So then tell me about this show. Is it all the heavy hitters? Love and hate, war and peace, crime and punishment?"

Richard gestures away from the first painting, down the line towards another piece. "Some of it is, but not all," he says as they stop in front another painting. This canvas is unusual. It's made from the same material as the last, but it rises to a point in the middle, so that the painting is shaped like a triangle with the top edge pointing towards the viewer. This time, the white card says North/South. It's fairly easy to tell which is which. The northern side is made primarily from metallic colors, though there are splashes of reds and yellows, and bits of building materials. The brush strokes and placement of materials is hectic and the eye is drawn back and forth. It's a very demanding view, but also very distant, missing the emotion of the Love/Hate painting, as if the artist wanted to punctuate his lack of experience with the area.

The southern view on the other hand is full of broad loving brush strokes in warms browns and greens. Threading in amongst the paint are pieces of clothing material and a picture of two small boys hamming for the camera. There a darkened spots here and there, but unlike the harsh reality of the northern half, the south side is idyllic, a childhood in paints. Misha can't help smiling.

"I take it he's a southern boy," he comments.

"He says he admires the activity of the north," Richard says. He points to the reds and yellows. "And that he's been overwhelmed by the bursts of raw emotions from northerners he's known, but yes, for him, it's as strange as living on the moon."

Misha feels the same way about the South, but looking at the soul deep love poured onto the canvas, for the first time in his life he thinks perhaps he's been missing something.

Once again, he feels impressed.

"I can see you're a fan," Richard comments lightly.

Instead of answering, Misha moves along to the next piece, this one a statue depicting a daemon and his human. "How long have you known Jensen?"

"About five years. Since he moved to LA," Richard says. "He'd just graduated from art school and he visited the gallery nearly every day. He annoyed me so bad that I finally started displaying his pieces just to get him to shut up and it turned out that people really liked them. I wouldn't say he's a star yet, but he's got real potential."

Looking at the intricately carved details of the daemon's feline features, Misha believes he agrees.

They move along to each new piece, falling into silence as Misha looks at the paintings with fresh eyes and Richard admires them for what is probably the hundredth viewing. The only time Misha speaks again is when they look at the Child/Adult display.

"Is that knitting?"

There is a small knitted glove, the kind with one large space for the four fingers and another for the thumb. It's laying on the stair steps Jensen's designed to represent the slow climb to adulthood. And it's not like Misha thinks knitting is all that strange, but the glove is small and detailed with little decorated knots attached along the bottom. He's beginning to wonder if there's any kind of visual art technique Jensen can't do.

"He told me that real men knit," Richard says with a shrug.

Richard finally separates from Misha after a sculpture called Male/Female when a rather lovely example of the latter gender tugs him away to introduce him to a group of the art snobs. But that's okay because there's only one more piece and as soon as Misha lays eyes on it, he's captivated. Without even looking at the card, he knows this is his favorite piece. It's the simplest piece in the room. The colors are spare, vivid and bright in places, dim and muted in others. There's no clear separation between either element, but rather they are totally entwined, one unable to exist without the other. It takes Misha long moments to finally check the white card.

It reads Life/Death.

"Hey."

Jensen's voice is soft and when Misha looks at him, he gets the impression that Jensen's been standing there for quite some time. There's something very like concern on his face. Dean carefully sidles up to Misha and looks up, silently beckoning Castiel to fly down to him. When Castiel lands on Dean's shoulder, Jensen's concern becomes more obvious, flooding Misha's senses.

"You okay?"

"Is this really how you see life and death?"

Jensen doesn't even look at the painting as he nods.

"Yeah. It's just...you know...death is all around us. It just makes life's colors seem brighter, I guess," he says and Misha can tell by the way he's shuffling from one foot to the other than he's slightly embarrassed. Without thinking too hard about it, Misha reaches for him, takes his hand and threads their fingers together.

"Yeah, it does."

*******************

"Did he come?"

Jensen looks up from watching Sam lazily grooming Dean's tail. Jared is sprawled across his couch, looking about as lazy as his daemon. In the kitchen, Jensen can hear Gen bustling around and talking to her mom on the phone. It's an easy comfortable familiarity and he soaks up the sensation. After last night's exhilarating almost-date, Jensen needs a bit of familiar to calm his nerves.

"Yeah, he did. I didn't see him for nearly the entire showing though because of stupid reporters," Jensen complains, though it's hard to be annoyed when bliss curls up his spine from Sam's loving attention.

"Did Richard keep him company?" Jared asks with a grin.

"Yes, but he was good. For some reason."

Jensen had expected to find Misha brimming with embarrassing stories about him, but he'd heard nothing. In fact, the only interaction he had with Richard that night was to receive a lascivious wink as the other man went out the door with an attractive woman on his arm.

"Well, maybe even Richard can tell how important Misha is to you," Jared says, tone falsely casual.

"Oh? And how important is that?" Dean asks as he tugs his tail out of Sam's grip and scampers up the side of Jensen's body.

But Jensen knows it's useless to pretend. As well as Richard knows him, Jared knows him a thousand times better and there's no hiding how Misha's climbed into his mind and heart so easily.

"When you talk about him, you sound the same way I did when I met Genevieve," Jared says.

That really shocks reality into Jensen's brain. Even he hadn't realized he sounded quite that bad. Jared had been pretty much a useless lump when he first became besotted with Gen.

"Seriously?"

Jared laughed softly.

"Well, perhaps in a less stupid, more Jensen-ish way, but yeah."

"Jensen-ish?"

"Shut up," Sam says. He crawls into Jared's lap and scratches his ear with his back foot. "Did you go home with him?"

"Yeah, right," Dean answers and both he and Jensen sigh. Jensen absolutely doesn't want to rush this relationship, but it'd been extremely difficult to leave Misha's side the previous night.

"You have no idea the filthy shit we'd do to them," Dean offers.

Sam makes a face, but Jared laughs into the sofa's arm.

"I don't think we know Jared and Sam well enough to share those thoughts," Jensen says even though he's told Jared much worse stuff before. Dean crawls around his shoulders and lays down, tail flapping down over one shoulder as he lays his head on the other.

"Whatever, the point is, that dude won't be laid anytime soon and it's driving me nuts," he complains. "It's like Castiel wants to jump me, but Misha won't even think of looking at you like that."

"What do you mean?" Jared asks.

"I don't know," Jensen says, feeling troubled. "I know Misha likes me. I can tell that, but it feels like he's fighting himself. I don't know why and I don't think I know him well enough to ask."

"He acts like he got burned real bad in the past," Dean says sadly. "Which sucks, but if we told him we don't want to hurt him, I don't think he'd believe us."

"You can't just make someone stop hurting," Sam says and Jensen smiles. Jared has a way of saying things with simplicity that really makes sense to Jensen.

"Yeah, but I really wish we could," he confesses.

Jared's slight smile is melancholy.

"Yeah, I know. But all you can do is keep spending time with him. He'll get it in time. The only question is whether you have the patience for that."

Jensen turns his cheek, glancing at Dean. They both think about Misha and Castiel, about Misha's clever teasing smile and Castiel's calm steady gaze. Jensen nuzzles Dean's face and smiles.

"I think I really do."