Emily (ghostwrit) wrote in johnnyfanfic,

Starstruck (Misha/Johnny, PG)

Title: Starstruck (1/2).
Author: ghostwrit.
Pairing: Misha Collins/Johnny Depp.
Rating: PG.
Feedback: Essential. If you can, please leave a comment.
Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge, this never happened.

Genevieve led Jared by the hand, making Misha feel even less comfortable as gooseberry to them. The Flash Forward S2 cast party had the press out in droves, drawing the celebrity circle in, tightening its hold. It was heady, nearly sickening. Misha's ego couldn't quite justify this. He tried to calculate the amount of dollars splashed on various outfits, shoes & trays of champagne. He sighed inwardly.

Running a hand through his thick dark hair, Misha tried to remember Tibet. This always soothed him, imagining the walk up to the monastery, it's beauty & splendour untouched by the Western horror of places like Walmarts & McDonalds. It was what he thought of when he meditated. Crowds shuffled in slow motion past his seemingly stationary form as he breathed deep and slow.

Tapping Jared's shoulder, ahead and a little above him, he waited for the guy to turn and saw him beaming as he did, all dimples and bright-eyed for the love of his new bride.

"Bar." Misha said, not wanting to dawdle here. "Catch you up later?"

Grinning, Jared nodded, saying nothing, just being led further out. Genevieve continued, unaware of their interaction and Misha smiled, shaking his head. He loved how sweet they were.

Manoeuvring himself deftly through the gathering throng, which seemed to have exponeniated since he last looked, he reassured himself mentally that he would have one drink then text Jared, politely informing him that he was leaving. It seemed that people were crowding by the VIP entrance. So he reached into his pocket, pulled out the pass Genevieve had given to him earlier and flashed it towards a burly looking guy in an official FF jacket.

Walking through the roped off entrance made him feel slightly dirty. He opened a blue velvet curtain and stepped through into the area he'd sought. It was a large dimly lit room that looked like a strip bar he had once visited on a trip to Amsterdam when he was a student. There was a haze of smoke by the bar which was strange because he thought that it was illegal to smoke indoors now. A man was sat amidst the cloudy mass, facing the bar.

Misha noted Jack Davenport sitting at a table to his right as he made a beeline for alcohol. Jack was making conversation with a young guy, someone so familiar he had to be an actor too. Misha did not make eye contact but kept walking along the carpeted floor which got stickier against the soles of his shoes as he came nearer.

When he sat on a stool, keeping his distance from the smoky stranger, he noted the blonde tapster who was petite and clearly flustered. She approached him to take his order but somehow didn't seem to notice him at the same time. Bemused, Misha ordered. "Can I get a glass of dry white wine please?" He asked, taking a ten dollar bill from his pocket and offering it to her.

"Free bar." She said, giving him an odd look.

Her eyebrows raised as she suddenly seemed to realise he was there. Her entire face relaxed as she smiled at him, eyes glinting. He knew that look. Misha smiled back at the girl, knowingly, pocketing the note again as he did.

Seemingly dazed again, she walked away from him, picking up a couple of different glasses before hitting the right mark, her face a mix of confused awe. A waft of filmy smoke and the scrape of a chair being pulled back to the right of him made him turn. But Misha immediately snapped his head back, trying to focus on anything but the guy who had stood up, come over to his seat and placed himself beside him.

The girl's behaviour made sudden sense.

If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it. Dressed head to toe in a suit with dangling chains & necklaces, looking like he'd invented fashion, was Johnny Depp.

The drink was given to him in silence, accompanied by a napkin. The girls heels shuffled noisily as she bustled about, clearly unprepared for the customer she'd unwittingly been served tonight. Misha felt a huge pang of sympathy for her. They probably didn't pay her well enough for the massive coronary she was about to have.

There was something so irritating about the temptation to give up and just stare. He thought of his minions, his heart going out to them instantly.

A tinkling sound beside him made him give the shiny black bar a small smile. Peripherally, Johnny was shifting in his seat, Misha could see the faded blue denim color of his jeans, the cross-crossing patterns where one of the knees was scratched, coming undone.

"Hey." Johnny said gently, like he was approaching a scared animal that might bolt at any moment.

Misha failed to suppress his grin so closed his long lashes for a moment, opened them back up again and concentrated on running his forefinger down the stem of the wineglass in front of him.

"Hey Johnny." Misha replied, inclining his head ever so slightly.

"You don't have to be polite, y'know." Johnny commented, shifting again so that Misha could see him taking off his long, brown coat & scarf, laying them over the rim of the stool.

Turning properly, Misha replied before he could stop himself. "Oh, I'm not. I avoid politeness like the plague on principle." Flashing him a grin filled of pearl-white teeth, pure cheek and twinkling eyes, Misha recognised how he was now flirting with the guy and they'd barely even said hello. He cringed internally.

But, to his surprise, Johnny responded with an answering smirk, brown eyes wicked in their kohl-coloured frames. "Glad to hear it." He said, sounding mock-proud. "Politeness is over-rated."

"Yeah, why not just say what you really mean?"

Johnny's nostrils flared right before his smirk returned with vengeance, studying Misha curiously, really paying attention. He was far better looking in real life, Misha saw close up. Bastard! He thought.

"You meant to avoid me?" Johnny asked, part-casual but it sounded like he was challenging Misha also, obviously trying to keep the conversation going.

"No." Misha insta-replied. It was like auto-pilot for the brain. Calm on the surface always. "I meant to draw you to me like a magnet with my enigmatic ass-placement. Worked, didn't it?"

Snorting, Johnny shook his head but looked simultaneously impressed as he clapped a ringed hand upon Misha's shoulder to initiate trust between them as well as contact. "Actually, no. I'm blind drunk and was hoping someone would carry me home. You were closest."

"... If you're blind drunk, how'd you know I was here?"

"Heightened sense of smell." Johnny whispered like he were confessing cardinal sin.

"Wow." Misha laughed finally but it came out slightly shaky. Johnny was getting to him. They both noticed and Johnny smiled at Misha's pursed lips.


"So why are you here?" Misha asked him, genuinely interested. He was pretty sure Johnny wasn't scouting for TV work after the stories Kim Manners had entertained the Supernatural crew with about 21 Jump Street.

"Economy bitten."

Misha snorted into the wine he had been failing to drink for the past few minutes. He loved people who dealt back in spades. "Touche."

Then he noted the ringed hand had moved. Johnny was pointing at Jack Davenport's table. "It's his fault. We were both in town at the same time. We wanted to meet up, talk. He's over there with his boyfriend. One of Orlando's guys..." Johnny said this more to himself than anyone else, shrugging it off like it was something he wasn't allowed to talk about.

Tilting his head sideways at Johnny, Misha's face lit up. Johnny was one of his acting heroes. A memory came to him of some trivia he'd heard, that Johnny wasn't allowed to travel into China because of his Free Tibet stance circa 1994. It made his forehead wrinkle as he studied him.

"Penny for 'em." Johnny said. "Or maybe a dime?"

"I don't take fake currency." Misha retorted, ready now, brain catching up to his mouth. "And besides, you can't afford it, remember?"

"Right right!" Johnny laughed. In his other hand, he had a drink that was brown but clear which Misha guessed was whisky. He drank the contents back in one swig. His lips around the glass rim, mouth suckling the liquor and throat working, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, Misha stared at the every moving cog that was the clockwork of Johnny.

The visuals made Misha half-hard, already straining upwards in his pants. Fuck, he thought.

"Fuck." He said aloud.

"That bad, huh?" Johnny asked, wiping his mouth on the edge of his sleeve softly so that the fabric grazed and caught briefly on his stubble. He rubbed his lips together, waiting for an answer as he removed his hand.

"No... I..." Misha sighed. "No, I just proved the entire internet right."

Giving him a guarded look, Johnny narrowed his eyes at Misha, still trying to judge his conversational footing. "Because it was wrong before?"

Misha's mouth puckered as he indulged in a pout. "Half-wrong." Taking a sip of his wine, he made a face and put it down again, ignoring Johnny's confused presence momentarily.

"What's your name?" Johnny asked him, tilting his head in a return gesture of interest, before extending his hand.

"I've... several..." Misha said before belching loudly. "Sorry."

"That-- that's your name?!" Johnny half-sniggered.

"Lowest. Form. Of. Wit." Misha replied, undeterred as Johnny smirked again, gesturing for him to continue with his outstretched palm. Misha took Johnny by the wrist and wriggled that hand in a gesture of strangeness. "My stage name is Misha. But at home, everyone calls me Dmitri. So I guess it depends how you know me..."

"Misha-Dmitri." Johnny said, looking satisfied. "Do you prefer one more than the other? Both?"

"Both." Eyes darkening, Misha tried like hell not to laugh. Still semi-erect, he reminded himself that he was trying to be good today and failing. He realised belatedly that he was still holding Johnny's wrist.

The look upon Johnny's face was unholy. There was a dim trace of something deep in his eyes that looked like lust. The gratified grin he wore was practically forcing Misha out of his pants. "Well, Misha-Dmitri, I think tonight is going to be interesting."

Swallowing, Misha tried to remember how to breathe. Johnny was flirting back. He wanted to abort the plan, run for the door but his legs wouldn't work and the rest of him certainly didn't feel the same. "Why?" He asked with a dry throat. Suddenly, the wine seemed like a bad idea.

"Blind drunk." Johnny said, gesturing to himself, smiling and putting his coat back on quickly, slipping his arms through the holes then gazing at Misha with undisguised smugness.

"Oh." Misha said, dumbly. He froze for a moment.

Johnny stood up from the bar stool, thanking the girl for her near-fatal, dizzy service as he did. Misha stood next to him, feeling red-hot patches creeping across his cheeks.

"So... what next?" Misha asked, desperate to find out but trying to keep his tone light, conversational.

"Taxi to my hotel." Johnny said quickly, not wanting the girl to hear and flashing a keycard at Misha.

"You've got a room at the Four Seasons?" He asked, studying it.

"Uh-huh. That bother you?" Johnny looked concerned for a moment as he surveyed Misha, obviously wondering if he was having second thoughts.

"No. I just... I got kicked out of there a few years back for setting off the fire alarms. It was..." Misha flinched at himself. "It was funny at the time."

Johnny grinned, face lit with pride. "Don't worry, I'll sneak you in! And I'll have to tell you about some of my exploits some time. Hours of entertainment. Speaking of which..."

He nudged Misha towards the back door, waving at Jack as he did. Misha was being ushered forwards and not doing anything to stop it from happening which he should have but couldn't and he went into the cold Los Angeles night, shivering. Turning back to Johnny, his eyes were wide with fear, he could feel it, his face deepening in color at the temperature.

"I'm not gonna do anything you won't like." Johnny reassured him gently, placing a woollen scarf he'd been wearing earlier around Misha's neck and pulling him towards the busy road, his hand already outstretched toward the traffic.

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