Jensen's Apartment
Author: emocezi
Title: Jensen's Apartment
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 671
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers now do I make any profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: I'm going to go ahead and dedicate this to everyone who loves schmoop and domestic stuff.
Jensen hummed to himself, transferring wet clothes to the dryer and then filling the washer with another duffle bag of what looked like mud soaked rags. He was home for now, home consisting of a mostly empty apartment.
It held all the comforts of the modern age, including a California king sized bed, large enough so his feet didn’t dangle off the end of the bed when he slept. He had no pictures on the walls, no adornments of any kind on the coffee table or the couch.
There were no tables with vases of flowers on them in the hall, no area rugs to brighten the space and make it more livable. There was nothing in the apartment that made it feel like home. Instead, it gave off the vibe of exactly what it was. Somewhere to rest your head in-between jobs.
They’d gotten back two days ago, and the first thing Jensen had done when he’d walked through the door was shower off the filth of two months in the desert with no real place to bathe. The second thing he’d done was collapse on his bed and sleep for thirty hours straight, getting up twice to use the bathroom.
He was awake now, mostly, and getting all his chores done. Laundry, sorting through his collection of stuff he always seemed to amass. He’d called in an order for lasagna from a small Italian restaurant on the corner half an hour earlier and was just waiting for the call to come pick it up.
He half wondered if he should have placed a double order, as Cougar was usually here by now, wandering in like he owned the place and setting his hat on the hat stand Jensen had bought just for him.
Jensen half turned at the sound of a key in the lock and quickly measured detergent and flipped on the machine. He wandered over to where Cougar was closing the door behind him, hands full of too many bags to be Jensen’s single order of lasagna.
“Hey man, what’d you buy me?”
“Who says it’s for you?” Cougar grinned and slipped past Jensen even as the hacker made a grab for him. He set everything on the counter and reached up into the cupboard to grab plates and glasses.
“Let me guess, you stopped by Famiglia on the way over here, and the owners wife took pity on your skinny ass and loaded you up with food, because you’re just a poor lost soul so far from home, right?”
“Only happened once.” Cougar muttered, casting a playful glare Jensen’s way. The hacker had his hands on his hips, and Cougar didn’t have the heart to tell him he looked like an impatient woman. “Called in an order before I came over.”
“Is it weird that this is our routine?” Jensen asked, pulling out a bottle of wine from the paper bag Cougar had with him. “Oh hey, is there garlic bread?”
The sniper shrugged, pulling out a small tinfoil bag and setting it on the counter. The scents of food making Jensen’s stomach growl, even as he pulled down a couple of wine glasses Clay had given him as a gag wedding gift the day DADT had been repealed.
“You need to get a table.”
“I’m not around enough.” Cougar raised an eyebrow and Jensen shrugged and leaned against the counter, watching Cougar arrange lasagna, salad and garlic bread onto the plates just so. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?”
“Discovery.”
“You got it.” Jensen swooped in to steal a quick kiss before he wandered out to the living room to turn on his TV and set up the small laptables Cougar had bought for him in a fit of why-don’t-you-have-a-table-like-a-normal-person.
To anyone else, this apartment would have seemed cold and unfriendly. But to Jensen, all it needed was a worn out hat on the stand by the door and an extra tray set up next to his. Home was indeed, where the heart was.
Title: Jensen's Apartment
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 671
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers now do I make any profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: I'm going to go ahead and dedicate this to everyone who loves schmoop and domestic stuff.
Jensen hummed to himself, transferring wet clothes to the dryer and then filling the washer with another duffle bag of what looked like mud soaked rags. He was home for now, home consisting of a mostly empty apartment.
It held all the comforts of the modern age, including a California king sized bed, large enough so his feet didn’t dangle off the end of the bed when he slept. He had no pictures on the walls, no adornments of any kind on the coffee table or the couch.
There were no tables with vases of flowers on them in the hall, no area rugs to brighten the space and make it more livable. There was nothing in the apartment that made it feel like home. Instead, it gave off the vibe of exactly what it was. Somewhere to rest your head in-between jobs.
They’d gotten back two days ago, and the first thing Jensen had done when he’d walked through the door was shower off the filth of two months in the desert with no real place to bathe. The second thing he’d done was collapse on his bed and sleep for thirty hours straight, getting up twice to use the bathroom.
He was awake now, mostly, and getting all his chores done. Laundry, sorting through his collection of stuff he always seemed to amass. He’d called in an order for lasagna from a small Italian restaurant on the corner half an hour earlier and was just waiting for the call to come pick it up.
He half wondered if he should have placed a double order, as Cougar was usually here by now, wandering in like he owned the place and setting his hat on the hat stand Jensen had bought just for him.
Jensen half turned at the sound of a key in the lock and quickly measured detergent and flipped on the machine. He wandered over to where Cougar was closing the door behind him, hands full of too many bags to be Jensen’s single order of lasagna.
“Hey man, what’d you buy me?”
“Who says it’s for you?” Cougar grinned and slipped past Jensen even as the hacker made a grab for him. He set everything on the counter and reached up into the cupboard to grab plates and glasses.
“Let me guess, you stopped by Famiglia on the way over here, and the owners wife took pity on your skinny ass and loaded you up with food, because you’re just a poor lost soul so far from home, right?”
“Only happened once.” Cougar muttered, casting a playful glare Jensen’s way. The hacker had his hands on his hips, and Cougar didn’t have the heart to tell him he looked like an impatient woman. “Called in an order before I came over.”
“Is it weird that this is our routine?” Jensen asked, pulling out a bottle of wine from the paper bag Cougar had with him. “Oh hey, is there garlic bread?”
The sniper shrugged, pulling out a small tinfoil bag and setting it on the counter. The scents of food making Jensen’s stomach growl, even as he pulled down a couple of wine glasses Clay had given him as a gag wedding gift the day DADT had been repealed.
“You need to get a table.”
“I’m not around enough.” Cougar raised an eyebrow and Jensen shrugged and leaned against the counter, watching Cougar arrange lasagna, salad and garlic bread onto the plates just so. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?”
“Discovery.”
“You got it.” Jensen swooped in to steal a quick kiss before he wandered out to the living room to turn on his TV and set up the small laptables Cougar had bought for him in a fit of why-don’t-you-have-a-table-like-a-normal-person.
To anyone else, this apartment would have seemed cold and unfriendly. But to Jensen, all it needed was a worn out hat on the stand by the door and an extra tray set up next to his. Home was indeed, where the heart was.