Son of a Bitch -- More SPN Imagines

Misha / Fanfiction Come to Life?

"Next question?" you ask the crowd of fans before you as you sip from your water bottle.

A small voice sounds from the other microphone, "Hi, (Y/N)!"

You smile to yourself. You'll never get used to people being excited to meet you. In your head, you're just an actress who - by some stroke of luck - landed a role on Supernatural. You weren't a celebrity or anything in your mind. You were just you.

"Hi, sweetheart!" you answer, trying to find the girl in the crowd. The stage lights were blindingly bright, and the house lights were too dim for your liking. "What's your question?"

"I was just wondering how you prepare for your role as Emily. Like, how you get into character. I want to be an actress one day, so I'm trying to figure out as much as I can," the quiet voice answers.

"Hmm," You rack your brain for an answer. How do you get ready for your role? "I don't have an especially intriguing answer for this, unfortunately. Usually, I just read over the script a few times, and try to figure out the emotions that Emily would be feeling in those situations. She's an emotional thinker, so she always leads with her heart, and any logic or reason comes later. After I pinpoint how I think she would react in that situation, the way I think she would talk or act comes naturally. I see a lot of myself in her character, so it's not a night and day contrast."

"Thank you!" the fan says excitedly.

"Thank you for your question! Good luck with your acting career, too. I wish you the best." You nod to the crowd, still smiling.

You take another sip of your water while you wait for the next fan to grab the mic.

"Uhm, hi, (Y/N)." a voice sounds over the mic.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This voice had a squeaky tone to it, like it was being forced. You figured the fan was just nervous about talking to you, and let it slide. "Hi! How are you?"

The fan giggles. "I'm doing good. I can't believe I get to talk to you."

You chuckle half-heartedly, narrowing your eyes to search over the crowd. Something was off about this fan, but you didn't know what. "You're too sweet, hun. What's your question?"

The fan giggles again. "Uhm, I was just wondering how you can focus on acting when you have devilishly handsome men acting alongside you. It must be hard to not get distracted by their gorgeous, gleaming eyes and perfectly groomed hair and tall, muscular bodies-"

"Misha fucking Collins," you interupt as soon as realization hits you.

The strained voice is replaced by a familiar, genuine laugh, confirming that it was Misha pretending to be a fan. The audience laughs with him.

"Stop ruining my panel!" you exclaim, failing to hold back your laughter. "The fans don't want to see you."

Majority of the fans exclaimed, "Yes, we do!"

You feign a pained expression, placing a hand over your heart. "Gee, thanks guys."

The crowd answers back to you all at once, creating one huge outburst of jumbled words and sounds. You can't help but laugh, thinking about how much you love all of the fans. They're the sweetest, funniest people you've ever met. You remember being in their shoes, being obsessed with Supernatural, being head-over-heels for the boys. Because you were once of the fans, you take meet and greets and conventions very seriously. You know it means the world to them, because it would've meant the world to you. Plus, you had a Tumblr account back then, and you knew how crazy some of the fans were about the show.

You're brought back to reality when you hear the crowd's energy change from excitement to pleading.

Misha's voice comes back on the mic: "They want me to come up there with you."

"Uhg, fine. Steal my time with them." You roll your eyes.

You see Misha's figure jog to the stage, and he joins you on the stage, smiling like a dork. He loves doing panels just as much as you do, partly because he likes to screw with and play pranks on the fans. He grabs a stool from upstage, and places it next to you.

"Next question," Misha says, sitting on the stool.

"Still my panel," you remind him.

He waves off your statement, and turns his attention back to the crowd.

"Okay, guess I'm going to be 'that fan' who brings this up, but what are your thoughts on Emstiel?" the next fan asks into the mic.

The crowd instantly makes various noises, some of excitement and some of annoyance. You are shocked by the strong reaction of the fans. This was obviously a very heated discussion in the Supernatural fandom.

You laugh. "Emstiel? So, Cas and Emily?"

Most of the crowd screams out, "Yes!" and some just scream.

"Ahh. A ship." Misha nods, obviously proud of himself for knowing the meaning of the word "ship", and enjoying the response it elicited from the crowd.

"What do I think about it?" you ask, mostly to yourself. "Uhm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm not even sure how that 'ship' would work, with Emily being a human and Cas being an angel. What do you think, Misha?"

Misha lowers his head, but keeps his eyes locked on the crowd. In a deep but quiet voice, he answers, "They're hot for each other."

The fans scream inhumanly at his response.

You're shocked at his blunt answer, because you had never thought about Em and Cas even liking each other up until this point. Were the writers in on this? Did Misha know about their relationship and you didn't? Did literally everyone else know about this but you?

The fan's excited voice interrupted your thoughts: "Will we be seeing any Emstiel scenes in the upcoming season?"

Still shocked, you don't say anything and look to Misha for an answer. Yeah, there were some Em and Cas scenes, but were they "Emstiel" scenes?

"You mean like this?" Misha puts his mic down on his stool, stands up, and grabs you by the arms. He pulls you off your stool, dips you with his back facing the audience, and pretends to makeout with you. You stare up at him, wondering what the hell he was doing and laughing at his ridiculous pretend-kissing faces.

"You're so weird," you tell him, raising your voice over the crowd's incessant screaming.

"They love it!" Misha exclaims, his eyes gleaming with joy from the crowd's response. He pulls you back to your feet, then returns to his seat on the stool. He glances over the audience, enthused by their excited screaming.

You shake your head and sit back down on your stool. Raising the mic up to your mouth, you mumble, "That'll be all over Tumblr tonight."