Jared/Jensen/Sandy domestic schmoop (PG)
I'm probably going to be posting a lot of silliness over the next few days as I try to get back in the fiction-writing habit.
This is for Destina, who asked for more when I said I am currently imagining Jensen and Sandy are eating popcorn, watching a Tivo'd marathon of America's Best Dance Crew and mocking JC's wardrobe, while Jared reads Noam Chomsky.
Um, it might not make any sense if you're not familiar with the cheesy wonder that is Randy Jackson Presents America's Best Dance Crew. Here is the website, but all you really need to know is that it involves dance teams with funny names, AC Slater is the host, and JC Chasez is the mean judge and he wears a lot of bow ties (no, REALLY.)
650 words. Unbeta'd. Lots of snarkiness. No porn! Go figure.
"I am so exhausted," Sandy says, stretching up on tip toes to reach the big popcorn bowl.
Jensen comes up behind her, puts a hand on the bowl to steady it, and says, "It feels like a ten hour audition, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Although it was better than I expected. I thought I'd get the in-law questions. So, what makes you think you're good enough for our Jared?" Sandy laughs and grabs the salt and sugar shakers. The boys hate it when she sugars the popcorn, so she always does it. It's the only way she ends up with more than a handful.
Jensen snorts. "No, those are the questions I get."
"That's horse shit," Jared calls from the living room. "They're all there to see your ass face." He pitches his voice three octaves higher than usual and says, "Ooooh, Jensen, why aren't you the most famous man alive? You're sooooo talented. And you smell wonderful!"
Jensen laughs, but blushes to his roots. Sandy grins and pokes him in the side on her way out of the kitchen. She keeps a tight grip on the popcorn bowl all the way to the living room, with Harley bumping her legs the whole way. "You don't like popcorn," she says. "It gets stuck in your teeth and makes you fart."
"C'mon Sandy," Jared says, not looking up from his book, "It does the same thing to Jensen, and we still let him eat it."
"I hate you," Jensen says as he fiddles with the Tivo. "What're you reading?"
"A book."
"Yup, still hate you."
Sandy settles herself on the couch between her two boys and feels a surge of ridiculous domestic bliss as they bicker over her head. Jared's rereading Good Omens because it makes him less anxious about the whole playing-the-antichrist thing, and Jensen has found the last episode of America's Best Dance Crew that they saw and is fast-forwarding through the intro.
"Blah, blah, AC Slater," he mutters. "Get to the dancing."
"I can't decide if it's awesome or horrible that all the Saved By the Bell kids are still known by their character names," Jared says.
"Awesome," Sandy says.
"For everyone but Screech," Jensen adds. "But he's a douche, so whatever."
They watch Fysh & Chicks and Breakskate get eliminated, Jared and Jensen make fun of JC Chasez's outfits, and Sandy nods off as Jared is saying, "Dude, if Sam goes evil, do you think Kripke would let me have a big, evil dog as a sidekick?"
Her nap is shortlived, ending when Jensen yells, "Dude, what the fuck?"
She's a little worried, but Jared is snickering, so it can't be that bad. Jensen looks pissed though. "What?" she says.
"Kaba Modern got eliminated! That's total bullshit."
"Wait, so it's the Jabbawockeez and Status Quo in the final two?" That is kind of bullshit.
Jared is still giggling. "You're just pissed 'cause you have a crush on one of the Kaba Modern girls. You totally wanted to writer her a letter congratulating her on their win." Jared goes back into his fangirl-falsetto "Dear Kaba Modern Girl Number Three, You're really talented! I love you. Come live with me in Vancouver and be my private dancer."
"I hate you," Jensen says, blushing a particularly entertaining shade of strawberry.
"I thought I was your private dancer!" Sandy says, fake-wounded.
Jensen opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
"Shit, we broke him," Jared says. "I hope he's still under warranty."
"Why do I hang out with you people?" Jensen says.
"Because we feed you and have sex with you, duh," Sandy says.
"And we won't tell the world that cheesy dance shows make you hot," Jared adds.
Sandy snuggles closer to Jensen, and Jared snuggles closer to her until they're all practically in each other's laps. Jensen sighs. "Let's watch the finale, then you can feed me and have sex with me. OK?"
"Sure!" Jared says, and for about the thousandth time that day, Sandy reflects that life is good.
This is for Destina, who asked for more when I said I am currently imagining Jensen and Sandy are eating popcorn, watching a Tivo'd marathon of America's Best Dance Crew and mocking JC's wardrobe, while Jared reads Noam Chomsky.
Um, it might not make any sense if you're not familiar with the cheesy wonder that is Randy Jackson Presents America's Best Dance Crew. Here is the website, but all you really need to know is that it involves dance teams with funny names, AC Slater is the host, and JC Chasez is the mean judge and he wears a lot of bow ties (no, REALLY.)
650 words. Unbeta'd. Lots of snarkiness. No porn! Go figure.
"I am so exhausted," Sandy says, stretching up on tip toes to reach the big popcorn bowl.
Jensen comes up behind her, puts a hand on the bowl to steady it, and says, "It feels like a ten hour audition, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Although it was better than I expected. I thought I'd get the in-law questions. So, what makes you think you're good enough for our Jared?" Sandy laughs and grabs the salt and sugar shakers. The boys hate it when she sugars the popcorn, so she always does it. It's the only way she ends up with more than a handful.
Jensen snorts. "No, those are the questions I get."
"That's horse shit," Jared calls from the living room. "They're all there to see your ass face." He pitches his voice three octaves higher than usual and says, "Ooooh, Jensen, why aren't you the most famous man alive? You're sooooo talented. And you smell wonderful!"
Jensen laughs, but blushes to his roots. Sandy grins and pokes him in the side on her way out of the kitchen. She keeps a tight grip on the popcorn bowl all the way to the living room, with Harley bumping her legs the whole way. "You don't like popcorn," she says. "It gets stuck in your teeth and makes you fart."
"C'mon Sandy," Jared says, not looking up from his book, "It does the same thing to Jensen, and we still let him eat it."
"I hate you," Jensen says as he fiddles with the Tivo. "What're you reading?"
"A book."
"Yup, still hate you."
Sandy settles herself on the couch between her two boys and feels a surge of ridiculous domestic bliss as they bicker over her head. Jared's rereading Good Omens because it makes him less anxious about the whole playing-the-antichrist thing, and Jensen has found the last episode of America's Best Dance Crew that they saw and is fast-forwarding through the intro.
"Blah, blah, AC Slater," he mutters. "Get to the dancing."
"I can't decide if it's awesome or horrible that all the Saved By the Bell kids are still known by their character names," Jared says.
"Awesome," Sandy says.
"For everyone but Screech," Jensen adds. "But he's a douche, so whatever."
They watch Fysh & Chicks and Breakskate get eliminated, Jared and Jensen make fun of JC Chasez's outfits, and Sandy nods off as Jared is saying, "Dude, if Sam goes evil, do you think Kripke would let me have a big, evil dog as a sidekick?"
Her nap is shortlived, ending when Jensen yells, "Dude, what the fuck?"
She's a little worried, but Jared is snickering, so it can't be that bad. Jensen looks pissed though. "What?" she says.
"Kaba Modern got eliminated! That's total bullshit."
"Wait, so it's the Jabbawockeez and Status Quo in the final two?" That is kind of bullshit.
Jared is still giggling. "You're just pissed 'cause you have a crush on one of the Kaba Modern girls. You totally wanted to writer her a letter congratulating her on their win." Jared goes back into his fangirl-falsetto "Dear Kaba Modern Girl Number Three, You're really talented! I love you. Come live with me in Vancouver and be my private dancer."
"I hate you," Jensen says, blushing a particularly entertaining shade of strawberry.
"I thought I was your private dancer!" Sandy says, fake-wounded.
Jensen opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
"Shit, we broke him," Jared says. "I hope he's still under warranty."
"Why do I hang out with you people?" Jensen says.
"Because we feed you and have sex with you, duh," Sandy says.
"And we won't tell the world that cheesy dance shows make you hot," Jared adds.
Sandy snuggles closer to Jensen, and Jared snuggles closer to her until they're all practically in each other's laps. Jensen sighs. "Let's watch the finale, then you can feed me and have sex with me. OK?"
"Sure!" Jared says, and for about the thousandth time that day, Sandy reflects that life is good.