Jules, this is how I picture them.
Title: Like A Star
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: Jensen finds peace standing over the kitchen sink. But it’s not dishes he’s washing, even if it’s just as fragile.
Warnings: Babyfic. Inexcusably and unapologetically indulgent and fluffy.
A/N: So. I fed into kashmir1’s baby craving and she made it a real fic so…I just had to write this. Had to, ya hear? And now apparently we’ve birthed a ‘verse. (Accidental Babies, see how nice that works?) *headdesks* Sometimes I need to learn to keep my mouth [er, fingers] quiet, eh? Title stolen from the Corrinne Bailey Rae song I’m currently obsessed with. It was either that or ‘Smack That’ by Akon, so, ya know…
Jensen hummed softly, dipping the washcloth in the basin. He squeezed it between his fingers, testing the temperature as it sluiced over his wrist. Perfect.
Trystan was watching with the odd disinterest only babies could seem to pull off, his eyebrows lifting as Jensen crossed the kitchen and drew closer. Jensen laughed.
“Pick that one up already, did you?” He popped the buttons on the bottom of the giraffe covered onesie and worked the fabric over his son’s tiny arms, pausing to marvel at the incredible smoothness of Trystan’s skin. Tiny fingers curled around his pinkie, and Jensen beamed.
He stripped off the plastic diaper, wrinkling his nose as he balled it up and tossed it in the trash, then hefted his son from the cradle of the carrier seat and walked to the sink. “Gonna clean you up all nice and fresh,” Jensen informed his son. Trystan simply gurgled.
Jensen couldn’t help but smile when his son kicked his feet in the tiny basin, sending droplets of water flying. Some of the books he’d read had warned that babies would panic when bathed, cry and just lose it, but Trystan took to it like…well, like a duck to water. His eyes shone, tracking the motion of Jensen’s hand as he dipped the washcloth into the water again and began to gently run it over his son’s dark skin.
“You like getting a bath, huh? Gonna grow up to be a big swimmer, aren’t ya?” Jensen swirled the cloth in the soapy water, wiping the tiny crease at the back of his son’s knee and listening to him babble nonsense in response. Every limb was so tiny. To think that this small, little child would grow and grow into a full fledged man…it blew Jensen’s mind.
And not just a man. His son.
“Such a good boy,” Jensen purred, passing the washcloth under Trystan’s chin. The baby squirmed, lips twisted in a smile, and kicked down into the water hard. A spray of water flew up, damn near a wave, and soaked into the front of Jensen’s shirt.
“Oh, I see. Gonna be like that, huh?” Jensen grinned, wiping stray drops from his eyes with his forearm.
“Gonna be like what? A trouble maker like his daddy?”
Jensen cast a glance over his shoulder. Jared was leaning against the doorframe, Samantha curled against his bare chest, fast asleep. The stark contrast of her skin against Jared’s only served to make her seem even smaller.
“Lord help us all if that’s the case.” Jensen tried to ignore the flop of his stomach at the sight and turned his attention back to bathing Trystan. He could feel Jared at his back, a looming shadow, then the heavy slide of his palm down Jensen’s spine.
Jared’s fingertips stopped at the small of his back and he chuckled. “Looks like he’s making a good start of it. You’re drenched.” Jared hooked his chin over Jensen’s shoulder, cooing down at where Trystan lay in the basin, smiling and splashing. “That’s my boy.”
Shifting his shoulders, Jensen leaned against Jared’s palm while scrubbing over five perfect tiny toes. “Yeah, well. You teach him any of those stunts you used to pull on set, your ass is grass.”
“I would never,” Jared proclaimed, mock innocence as stepped away to place Samantha into the vacant carrier. She whined softly and Jared stroked his hand over her cotton covered stomach until she settled, snuggling into the seat. “I’m shocked that you would even suggest such a thing, Jen.”
Jensen snorted, making sure to rub the washcloth under Trystan’s arms, up and over his elbows. He almost dropped the material when Jared slid up behind him, running his palms flat underneath Jensen’s shirt. The wet fabric stuck to his skin, the suction of it breaking when Jared pushed his hands higher.
“Jay…,” he warned.
“Well the least I can do is get you outta this shirt,” Jared mumbled, his lips pressed behind Jensen’s ear. “Can’t have you getting sick. Two babies I may be able to handle, but three is a stretch.”
Jensen rolled his eyes and as if on cue, Trystan gurgled again and kicked up another spray of water. Jensen could feel the rumble of Jared’s laughter along his neck. “Fine, fine. Since both of you are evil.” He shot a joking glare at his son, who simply answered with a toothless smile wide and bright and dangerously familiar.
Jared pulled his hands out from beneath Jensen’s shirt and nimbly worked his fingers down the buttons, his chin once again hooked over Jensen’s shoulder. He peeled the damp fabric open, pausing to drag his fingertips over the flat line of Jensen’s stomach. Jensen shuddered, despite having his hands immersed in the lukewarm bathwater.
“Like I said…” Jared pulled the shirt off one arm, mouthing the words along the bared expanse of Jensen’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.” He moved around to Jensen’s other side, twisting the fabric in his hands as he went, stopping to press his lips between Jensen’s exposed shoulder blades. The wet shirt fell to the floor with a squishy plop.
Jared pressed his chest against Jensen’s back, skin on skin, and slid his hands down over Jensen’s forearms. He laced his fingers over Jensen’s in the soapy water, locking them together over the washcloth and raising it to dab across Trystan’s chest. The baby gurgled happily, peering up at the two of them.
“Show me,” Jared whispered.
Jensen took a deep breath, listening to the quiet sigh of Samantha sleeping, the soft babbling of Trystan as he splashed and grinned, the gentle stir of Jared’s breath past his ear. He marveled at the silent intimacy of the water beading and sliding over their wrists, the matching gleam of gold rings beneath the surface, and leaned back into Jared’s embrace.
“You just go with your gut,” Jensen said, trailing the cloth behind their son’s ear. The baby smiled and Jensen could feel the answering press of the same smile against his neck. “It always seems to get you just where you need to be.”
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: Jensen finds peace standing over the kitchen sink. But it’s not dishes he’s washing, even if it’s just as fragile.
Warnings: Babyfic. Inexcusably and unapologetically indulgent and fluffy.
A/N: So. I fed into kashmir1’s baby craving and she made it a real fic so…I just had to write this. Had to, ya hear? And now apparently we’ve birthed a ‘verse. (Accidental Babies, see how nice that works?) *headdesks* Sometimes I need to learn to keep my mouth [er, fingers] quiet, eh? Title stolen from the Corrinne Bailey Rae song I’m currently obsessed with. It was either that or ‘Smack That’ by Akon, so, ya know…
Jensen hummed softly, dipping the washcloth in the basin. He squeezed it between his fingers, testing the temperature as it sluiced over his wrist. Perfect.
Trystan was watching with the odd disinterest only babies could seem to pull off, his eyebrows lifting as Jensen crossed the kitchen and drew closer. Jensen laughed.
“Pick that one up already, did you?” He popped the buttons on the bottom of the giraffe covered onesie and worked the fabric over his son’s tiny arms, pausing to marvel at the incredible smoothness of Trystan’s skin. Tiny fingers curled around his pinkie, and Jensen beamed.
He stripped off the plastic diaper, wrinkling his nose as he balled it up and tossed it in the trash, then hefted his son from the cradle of the carrier seat and walked to the sink. “Gonna clean you up all nice and fresh,” Jensen informed his son. Trystan simply gurgled.
Jensen couldn’t help but smile when his son kicked his feet in the tiny basin, sending droplets of water flying. Some of the books he’d read had warned that babies would panic when bathed, cry and just lose it, but Trystan took to it like…well, like a duck to water. His eyes shone, tracking the motion of Jensen’s hand as he dipped the washcloth into the water again and began to gently run it over his son’s dark skin.
“You like getting a bath, huh? Gonna grow up to be a big swimmer, aren’t ya?” Jensen swirled the cloth in the soapy water, wiping the tiny crease at the back of his son’s knee and listening to him babble nonsense in response. Every limb was so tiny. To think that this small, little child would grow and grow into a full fledged man…it blew Jensen’s mind.
And not just a man. His son.
“Such a good boy,” Jensen purred, passing the washcloth under Trystan’s chin. The baby squirmed, lips twisted in a smile, and kicked down into the water hard. A spray of water flew up, damn near a wave, and soaked into the front of Jensen’s shirt.
“Oh, I see. Gonna be like that, huh?” Jensen grinned, wiping stray drops from his eyes with his forearm.
“Gonna be like what? A trouble maker like his daddy?”
Jensen cast a glance over his shoulder. Jared was leaning against the doorframe, Samantha curled against his bare chest, fast asleep. The stark contrast of her skin against Jared’s only served to make her seem even smaller.
“Lord help us all if that’s the case.” Jensen tried to ignore the flop of his stomach at the sight and turned his attention back to bathing Trystan. He could feel Jared at his back, a looming shadow, then the heavy slide of his palm down Jensen’s spine.
Jared’s fingertips stopped at the small of his back and he chuckled. “Looks like he’s making a good start of it. You’re drenched.” Jared hooked his chin over Jensen’s shoulder, cooing down at where Trystan lay in the basin, smiling and splashing. “That’s my boy.”
Shifting his shoulders, Jensen leaned against Jared’s palm while scrubbing over five perfect tiny toes. “Yeah, well. You teach him any of those stunts you used to pull on set, your ass is grass.”
“I would never,” Jared proclaimed, mock innocence as stepped away to place Samantha into the vacant carrier. She whined softly and Jared stroked his hand over her cotton covered stomach until she settled, snuggling into the seat. “I’m shocked that you would even suggest such a thing, Jen.”
Jensen snorted, making sure to rub the washcloth under Trystan’s arms, up and over his elbows. He almost dropped the material when Jared slid up behind him, running his palms flat underneath Jensen’s shirt. The wet fabric stuck to his skin, the suction of it breaking when Jared pushed his hands higher.
“Jay…,” he warned.
“Well the least I can do is get you outta this shirt,” Jared mumbled, his lips pressed behind Jensen’s ear. “Can’t have you getting sick. Two babies I may be able to handle, but three is a stretch.”
Jensen rolled his eyes and as if on cue, Trystan gurgled again and kicked up another spray of water. Jensen could feel the rumble of Jared’s laughter along his neck. “Fine, fine. Since both of you are evil.” He shot a joking glare at his son, who simply answered with a toothless smile wide and bright and dangerously familiar.
Jared pulled his hands out from beneath Jensen’s shirt and nimbly worked his fingers down the buttons, his chin once again hooked over Jensen’s shoulder. He peeled the damp fabric open, pausing to drag his fingertips over the flat line of Jensen’s stomach. Jensen shuddered, despite having his hands immersed in the lukewarm bathwater.
“Like I said…” Jared pulled the shirt off one arm, mouthing the words along the bared expanse of Jensen’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.” He moved around to Jensen’s other side, twisting the fabric in his hands as he went, stopping to press his lips between Jensen’s exposed shoulder blades. The wet shirt fell to the floor with a squishy plop.
Jared pressed his chest against Jensen’s back, skin on skin, and slid his hands down over Jensen’s forearms. He laced his fingers over Jensen’s in the soapy water, locking them together over the washcloth and raising it to dab across Trystan’s chest. The baby gurgled happily, peering up at the two of them.
“Show me,” Jared whispered.
Jensen took a deep breath, listening to the quiet sigh of Samantha sleeping, the soft babbling of Trystan as he splashed and grinned, the gentle stir of Jared’s breath past his ear. He marveled at the silent intimacy of the water beading and sliding over their wrists, the matching gleam of gold rings beneath the surface, and leaned back into Jared’s embrace.
“You just go with your gut,” Jensen said, trailing the cloth behind their son’s ear. The baby smiled and Jensen could feel the answering press of the same smile against his neck. “It always seems to get you just where you need to be.”