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Jensen has seen Misha cry before.
Jensen has made Misha cry before, and honestly, that’s the worst thing in his recent memory. Jensen can remember the way Misha had gasped, his voice breaking as if he were surprised to be feeling pain -- and then the way his big blue eyes had filled with tears that ran slowly down his stubbled face. That had been an awful sight to behold and became, hands down, the worst thing in his recent memory.
This -- right now -- is a close second and is running like hell for first, with plans to slide into home plate.
Misha isn’t saying anything -- he’s too stunned -- but his head is bowed low and Jensen can see tears dripping off the end of his chin.
It’s late, and the returns are being read woodenly by pundits who are shocked but obviously trying to remain neutral. The country is defeated. The common man is defeated, even if he doesn’t know it yet. And certainly those who don’t fit into the ‘normal’ box are defeated. But Misha is never defeated -- he’s always been the one to keep carrying the torch. He rallies others, and keeps the dream alive even when everyone else has gone home or given up. Misha does not ever give up!
Except that right now Misha is sliding off the couch into the living room floor and crying into his hands, and Jensen feels like he has betrayed Misha all over again, somehow. It’s not his fault, he knows it’s not. Still…
“Misha?”
Silence.
“Mish?”
Shaking shoulders are his only answer and Jensen is scared.
“Hey, come on, now. It’s ok.”
Jensen watches, almost in slow motion, as Misha draws a final, shaky breath, curls tightly into himself, and then just sobs.
And suddenly Jensen is terrified . He has never heard Misha sob before, and it blows his world apart. Misha is defeated. The man who stands tall, and smart, and snarky, and who holds everyone else together… is curled up in a ball on the floor, defeated.
Jensen falls to his knees. “No, no, no, no, no -- Misha. Baby. Hey, no. It’s ok. It’ll be ok. It’s gonna be ok! It’s… It’s gonna…”
Honestly he doesn’t even know what it’s gonna be. He doesn’t know that it’s gonna be ok. He can’t promise that. But right now he’ll say or do anything to make Misha better, to stop the horrendous tremble in his usually strong shoulders, and dry the tears streaming down his beautiful face.
“HOW DID IT GO SO WRONG? JENSEN? HOW DID WE NOT DO ENOUGH?” Misha is shouting his pain now that he has voice, and Jensen doesn’t have any answers.
“WE WORKED SO HARD!”
“I know you did.”
“SO MANY PEOPLE!”
Jensen just tightens his arms around Misha’s shaking body and tries to hold him closer.
“HOW DID I NOT DO ENOUGH?”
It rips something out of Jensen’s soul to know that Misha thinks any part of this could somehow be his fault. He is completely blameless. “You did everything you could, Misha. You couldn’t win this by yourself. This wasn’t you. It’s not on you.”
“But I… I…” And Misha has finally stopped shouting; his voice having gone hoarse and surprisingly soft now that he’s expelled his initial outburst. He’s clinging to Jensen’s shirt -- the material gripped tight in white-knuckled fists as if Jensen were the only thing still tethering him to this planet -- and looking up at him as if he should have the answers.
Why doesn’t he have the answers, dammit?
“What happens now?” Misha has never sounded so small, so unsure. Jensen hates everything about it. Jensen hates that there could ever be anything in this world that could make Misha so sad and frightened.
Then it dawns on him: Misha never hates.
Misha gets tired, frustrated, scared, and even angry. But he never hates. Not really. Not even those who, maybe, really *could* be deserving, because that’s just not Misha’s style. That’s not Misha’s heart. Misha’s heart is far too full of love, which is why it’s breaking so wide open right now.
Too much heart is not only Cas’ problem -- it’s Misha’s as well.
“We continue to love, baby” Jensen finally answers. He takes Misha’s beloved, wet face between his careful hands and thumbs away the tears even as they are still rolling down; he’ll continue to do so even if it takes the rest of the night, because he is absolutely not going anywhere. “That’s what you do best, and it’s what you taught me; it’s what you teach the world. You love, Misha, you always have. Now we just keep at it.”
We just keep at it.
But Jensen will pick up right where he is, where he is needed most.
Misha taught him that.