Comment Fic
So, I woke up at 5:30 this morning with an upset stomach and starting watching The World Series of Poker on ESPN, as you do, until it was time to get ready for work. It was there that I heard this quote (I have no idea who to credit for this as I know nothing about the pro Poker circuit. I know he was wearing a hat. And sunglasses.): "Lady Luck
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He's been working on a mini-series for HBO - eighteen hour days, spent mostly in conference rooms, plotting camera angles in pre-production - so Christmas kind of snuck up on him this year. It's a mid-December phone call from his mother, inquiring about his flight information that reminds him of the holiday. It also reminds him that he hasn't booked a flight and that he needs to hire a personal assistant as soon as possible.
Christmas lights on the drive to and from work should have probably tipped him off but Jared is pretty focused most of the time and he honestly hasn't taken the time to notice them. Jensen isn't exactly the kind of guy who's going to make a big deal out of the holidays, either, though that's another situation all together.
Ready to drop into his bed and enjoy four hours of sleep, Jared steps through the front door at two o'clock in the morning, surprised to find a light on in the kitchen. Jensen's usually careful about turning them off when he leaves a room, especially before he heads to bed.
When he rounds the corner, he finds Jensen is standing at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan, dressed only in a pair of low-slung sweatpants. He's humming, smiling, and Jared can't help but stop in the doorway to watch, unwilling to interrupt.
“You want some hot chocolate? It’s riddled with caffeine and sugar but I figure you sleep through just about anything these days, so,” Jensen lets the sentence trail while he grabs a couple of mugs from the cabinet over his head.
Jared doesn’t answer, just crosses to Jensen’s place at the stove and rests his hands against the bare skin above his waistband. “What are you doing for Christmas?” he asks against Jensen’s neck, brushing his nose against the line of Jensen’s jaw.
Though he leans back into Jared’s touch, Jensen’s shoulders are tense. “Same thing I do every year, I guess. Why?” He’s hedging his answer, nowhere near as smooth as he thinks he is, which always makes Jared a little nervous.
Taking the mug that Jensen offers, Jared turns them, backs Jensen up to the counter and holds him steady with one hand while he takes a drink. “What do you do every year?” He tries to keep his expression playful over the top of the cup but references to Jensen’s life before usually make him unhappy, to say the least.
Suddenly fixated on the collar of Jared’s gray button down, Jensen shrugs. It’s probably supposed to look dismissive but it seems heavier, guilty. “I’ll probably just go out on Christmas Eve and watch A Christmas Story all day on Christmas. It’s not a big deal to me,” he explains, though his words are shaky and transparent.
Catching Jensen’s chin, Jared tugs his face until their eyes meet. “What about your parents?”
“They usually go to my aunt’s house in Iowa.” With a sly grin that does little to hide the weight in his words, he adds, “She’s not my biggest fan.”
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“Dude, I just told you. My family goes to Iowa,” Jensen repeats, awkwardly bending his head to drink from his hot chocolate before Jared squeezes and then rubs his thumb along Jensen’s hairline. He freezes when the meaning of Jared’s words sink in. “Oh. Hell no.”
He probably shouldn’t smile but Jensen is so goddamn hot when he’s defiant. Trapping him against the counter, arms bracketed on either side, Jared bends to press their foreheads together. “Come on,” he says again, requesting rather than pleading. “It’s three days.” Jensen shudders against him when Jared’s breath ghosts over his hear. “Want you with me.”
Hand flat against Jared’s chest, Jensen pushes him back and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You already bought my ticket, didn’t you?” Jared smirks and returns his attention to Jensen’s neck and collarbone, teeth worrying the skin, tongue laving over the marks until Jensen’s protests turn to moans. “You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that?”
Grabbing Jensen’s hands and placing them carefully, purposefully, against the counter, Jared backs away just enough to unbutton his shirt without breaking their kisses. “You done with that hot chocolate?” Jensen swallows hard, eyes on Jared’s mouth when he nods and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “If you go in there and lose the pants, I’ll thank you for being so cooperative on this one.”
Jensen rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. He’s pushing his pants over his hips as he goes and Jared can hear him singing ‘Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer’ on his way to the bedroom.
After sticking the coffee mugs in the dishwasher and turning out the lights, Jared makes a mental note to buy his mom a nicer gift than usual for insisting that he bring Jensen home this year.
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