J2 Fic: These Aren't Cinderella's Glass Slippers
Title: These Aren't Cinderella's Glass Slippers
Genre: CWRPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: 1,132 words
Summary: In which Jensen's feet are always cold, and Jared tries to tackle this by buying him a pair of slippers.
A/N: Inspired by this picture of Jensen from the SPN s3 set photos originally posted here.
The night they finally hook up, Jared discovers a list of new things about Jensen.
He discovers that Jensen is fond of teasing, tongue tracing ticklish trails up and down the lines of muscle on Jared’s torso. He discovers that Jensen’s nipples are particularly sensitive, that Jensen will finally cave and plead if Jared flicks and rubs and tweaks them just so. He discovers that Jensen bites the pillow when he’s near, that Jensen screams when he finally comes on Jared’s dick, and that, when Jared nuzzles into a particular spot tucked just behind the hinge of Jensen’s jaw, Jensen’s moan is like a dark curl of heat unfurling low in Jared’s belly, and Jared just has to flip Jensen onto his back for round two, post-orgasmic afterglow be damned.
He also discovers that Jensen’s feet are prone to absorbing the Vancouver chill.
Jared makes this unfortunate discovery shortly after their second round, when Jensen returns from a quick trip to the bathroom. Jensen is warm and soft and somewhat cuddly as he slips beneath the sheets, and his feet are one of the coldest things Jared has ever had pressed against his calves.
There may have been screaming involved. Jared still denies it, but it turns out that Jensen is more than willing to do impromptu reenactments, complete with a mad waving of arms and a volley of shrieking screeches, if asked right.
=-=-=
“Socks,” says Jared. He’s trying to be firm about this.
“Coffee,” returns Jensen. It sounds more like ’offy, because Jensen’s still too sleepy to do more than mumble, but Jared can tell that Jensen’s being equally firm about that.
Jared tightens his grip on Jensen’s mug, stands on his tip toes to hold the cup even further out of Jensen’s reach. It’s all for Jensen’s good, and Jensen will probably see it enough to be thankful too, once he stops being a sleepy, stubborn-headed idiot. “Socks, or no coffee.”
“Whassocks?”
“The socks I left at the foot of our bed, dude. You must have seen them. They were bright purple.” Jared acknowledges that the choice of color’s unfortunate, but they ‘re the thickest, woolliest pair he’s managed to find so far since he commenced his hunt for warm socks the day before, and he figures that having cold feet is worse than being thought to have questionable taste in socks. “Socks, and I’ll even make you pancakes to go with your coffee.”
“’arley has ’em.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“’e does. See?”
Jared suddenly finds himself quite obliged to examine the two dogs that have just begun to nose their way into the kitchen. Sadie’s still panting slightly from their morning run, and Harley has something fuzzy and purple hanging out of his mouth. Jared suddenly feels very much like swearing.
Which is, of course, the exact moment Jensen tackles him, because Ackles is a tricky bastard like that.
Their scuffle only ends when Jared manages to bump his head on the kitchen counter, but Jensen fries them some bacon and eggs once he’s managed to wrestle the mug back, so Jared doesn’t complain about it too much.
He even manages to convince Jensen to kiss the resulting bruise better, which Jensen does after he spends the rest of the morning rolling his eyes at various intervals and bitching Jared out.
=-=-=
Jared finds the slippers entirely by accident. He hasn’t even thought of looking for a pair of slippers instead, and Jared figures this is why he (quite literally) stumbles upon them on Day Seven of the Great Sock Hunt and has to make a valiant grab at a display shelf in the middle of the department store, yet another one of those universal unspoken-but-not-unfelt laws at work. They’re nice enough as far as slippers go, he decides, buttery suede lined with sheep fleece, and he likes how every purchase of a pair comes with the possibility to buy a fluffy, white bathrobe on discount. The salesgirl even talks him into paying for a pair of pajama bottoms too, a simple, flannel affair that’s soft to touch. Jared picks a pair that’s pink and possibly a couple of inches too short for Jensen’s legs as a joke, but he gets the same salesgirl to wrap it all up in luridly-colored paper, sticks a ribbon-bow on it when he gets back home before he looks for a suitable place to hide it from Jensen.
He presents Jensen the garish package the next morning in the latter’s trailer, and is oddly gratified when Jensen takes to zipping about the set that day on a toy scooter while dressed in the ridiculous ensemble.
=-=-=
It doesn’t take them long before they fall into a routine. There’re cackles and shoves as they stumble back into the house after a long day of filming, getting into each other’s way even as they bend down to greet the dogs. Jensen will slide his feet into the slippers before he pads into the kitchen to help Jared with dinner, and afterwards they will curl up together on the couch in the living room, bask in the flickering glare of the television even while they make out.
(Jared’s rather partial to making out, especially since it usually leads to sex.)
It’s a routine that’s at least three weeks old, and Jensen’s chest is rubbing up against his from the way Jensen’s currently grinding down onto Jared’s lap, legs wrapped around Jared’s hips, which is why Jared isn’t expecting it when Jensen wiggles his feet partway up the bottom of Jared’s shirt and presses his chilly, chilly toes into Jared’s back.
Jared yelps. He isn’t too proud to admit that it isn’t a particularly dignified yelp.
“My feet are cold,” Jensen grins. He has an eyebrow cocked too, and he sounds distinctly unrepentant.
“Slippers,” Jared croaks, before he suddenly realizes that the slippers are nowhere in sight in the living room, and that he hasn’t seen them at all since they got back home.
“Forgot to take them back with me today.” Jensen has started nuzzling at Jared’s jaw, and his voice comes out vaguely muffled. “Left them in my trailer. Anyway, this works better.”
“Yeah?” Jared mumbles, because he wants to protest, he truly does, but Jensen’s sniggering against his neck now, warm puffs of air skittering across the curve of his collarbone. Jensen’s lips are plush against his as Jared pulls him down for a punishing kiss, and when Jensen digs his equally chilly heels into the small of Jared’s back later, much later, after Jared has him pinned onto their mattress, Jared silently concedes that Jensen may have been right after all.
He does, however, still return to the same department store the next day to another pair of slippers, just in case.
END.
Genre: CWRPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: 1,132 words
Summary: In which Jensen's feet are always cold, and Jared tries to tackle this by buying him a pair of slippers.
A/N: Inspired by this picture of Jensen from the SPN s3 set photos originally posted here.
The night they finally hook up, Jared discovers a list of new things about Jensen.
He discovers that Jensen is fond of teasing, tongue tracing ticklish trails up and down the lines of muscle on Jared’s torso. He discovers that Jensen’s nipples are particularly sensitive, that Jensen will finally cave and plead if Jared flicks and rubs and tweaks them just so. He discovers that Jensen bites the pillow when he’s near, that Jensen screams when he finally comes on Jared’s dick, and that, when Jared nuzzles into a particular spot tucked just behind the hinge of Jensen’s jaw, Jensen’s moan is like a dark curl of heat unfurling low in Jared’s belly, and Jared just has to flip Jensen onto his back for round two, post-orgasmic afterglow be damned.
He also discovers that Jensen’s feet are prone to absorbing the Vancouver chill.
Jared makes this unfortunate discovery shortly after their second round, when Jensen returns from a quick trip to the bathroom. Jensen is warm and soft and somewhat cuddly as he slips beneath the sheets, and his feet are one of the coldest things Jared has ever had pressed against his calves.
There may have been screaming involved. Jared still denies it, but it turns out that Jensen is more than willing to do impromptu reenactments, complete with a mad waving of arms and a volley of shrieking screeches, if asked right.
=-=-=
“Socks,” says Jared. He’s trying to be firm about this.
“Coffee,” returns Jensen. It sounds more like ’offy, because Jensen’s still too sleepy to do more than mumble, but Jared can tell that Jensen’s being equally firm about that.
Jared tightens his grip on Jensen’s mug, stands on his tip toes to hold the cup even further out of Jensen’s reach. It’s all for Jensen’s good, and Jensen will probably see it enough to be thankful too, once he stops being a sleepy, stubborn-headed idiot. “Socks, or no coffee.”
“Whassocks?”
“The socks I left at the foot of our bed, dude. You must have seen them. They were bright purple.” Jared acknowledges that the choice of color’s unfortunate, but they ‘re the thickest, woolliest pair he’s managed to find so far since he commenced his hunt for warm socks the day before, and he figures that having cold feet is worse than being thought to have questionable taste in socks. “Socks, and I’ll even make you pancakes to go with your coffee.”
“’arley has ’em.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“’e does. See?”
Jared suddenly finds himself quite obliged to examine the two dogs that have just begun to nose their way into the kitchen. Sadie’s still panting slightly from their morning run, and Harley has something fuzzy and purple hanging out of his mouth. Jared suddenly feels very much like swearing.
Which is, of course, the exact moment Jensen tackles him, because Ackles is a tricky bastard like that.
Their scuffle only ends when Jared manages to bump his head on the kitchen counter, but Jensen fries them some bacon and eggs once he’s managed to wrestle the mug back, so Jared doesn’t complain about it too much.
He even manages to convince Jensen to kiss the resulting bruise better, which Jensen does after he spends the rest of the morning rolling his eyes at various intervals and bitching Jared out.
=-=-=
Jared finds the slippers entirely by accident. He hasn’t even thought of looking for a pair of slippers instead, and Jared figures this is why he (quite literally) stumbles upon them on Day Seven of the Great Sock Hunt and has to make a valiant grab at a display shelf in the middle of the department store, yet another one of those universal unspoken-but-not-unfelt laws at work. They’re nice enough as far as slippers go, he decides, buttery suede lined with sheep fleece, and he likes how every purchase of a pair comes with the possibility to buy a fluffy, white bathrobe on discount. The salesgirl even talks him into paying for a pair of pajama bottoms too, a simple, flannel affair that’s soft to touch. Jared picks a pair that’s pink and possibly a couple of inches too short for Jensen’s legs as a joke, but he gets the same salesgirl to wrap it all up in luridly-colored paper, sticks a ribbon-bow on it when he gets back home before he looks for a suitable place to hide it from Jensen.
He presents Jensen the garish package the next morning in the latter’s trailer, and is oddly gratified when Jensen takes to zipping about the set that day on a toy scooter while dressed in the ridiculous ensemble.
=-=-=
It doesn’t take them long before they fall into a routine. There’re cackles and shoves as they stumble back into the house after a long day of filming, getting into each other’s way even as they bend down to greet the dogs. Jensen will slide his feet into the slippers before he pads into the kitchen to help Jared with dinner, and afterwards they will curl up together on the couch in the living room, bask in the flickering glare of the television even while they make out.
(Jared’s rather partial to making out, especially since it usually leads to sex.)
It’s a routine that’s at least three weeks old, and Jensen’s chest is rubbing up against his from the way Jensen’s currently grinding down onto Jared’s lap, legs wrapped around Jared’s hips, which is why Jared isn’t expecting it when Jensen wiggles his feet partway up the bottom of Jared’s shirt and presses his chilly, chilly toes into Jared’s back.
Jared yelps. He isn’t too proud to admit that it isn’t a particularly dignified yelp.
“My feet are cold,” Jensen grins. He has an eyebrow cocked too, and he sounds distinctly unrepentant.
“Slippers,” Jared croaks, before he suddenly realizes that the slippers are nowhere in sight in the living room, and that he hasn’t seen them at all since they got back home.
“Forgot to take them back with me today.” Jensen has started nuzzling at Jared’s jaw, and his voice comes out vaguely muffled. “Left them in my trailer. Anyway, this works better.”
“Yeah?” Jared mumbles, because he wants to protest, he truly does, but Jensen’s sniggering against his neck now, warm puffs of air skittering across the curve of his collarbone. Jensen’s lips are plush against his as Jared pulls him down for a punishing kiss, and when Jensen digs his equally chilly heels into the small of Jared’s back later, much later, after Jared has him pinned onto their mattress, Jared silently concedes that Jensen may have been right after all.
He does, however, still return to the same department store the next day to another pair of slippers, just in case.
END.