The First Annual Padalecki-Ackles Christmastime Extravaganza - Part Four
Title: The First Annual Padalecki-Ackles Christmastime Extravaganza 4/13
Author: Merrin/walkawayslowly
Rating: R for language
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Notes: See part one. Also, I forgot to mention in part one, but causeways is also betaing these for me as I write them, a process that invariably involves her sending it back to me and telling me to make the ending better before I post it in five minutes. Thanks, babe. :)
Continued from Part 3
Three days after Christmas, Jensen drags them both to a little French restaurant downtown. It’s a lot nicer than the places they usually eat, white linen tablecloths and more than one kind of fork. It’s quiet and close inside, intimate, and Jensen wishes he’d thought this through a little bit better. It feels too much like a date, it looks too much like a date. He can wish all he wants, but he knows that’s not what this is.
"So who gave you a gift certificate to this place?" Jared asks as they sit down at their table. "And why didn’t I get one?"
"Because people like me better?"
"Who likes you better?"
Jensen picks up the menu, makes a show of opening it and perusing it. "Everyone likes me better. I’m prettier."
"Says who, your mom?"
"As a matter of fact-"
The waiter interrupts them then, a snooty little man in a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He shows them a wine list, which Jared commandeers. Jensen’s pretty sure he chooses by randomly pointing; neither one of them is up on their French wines.
Jared leans over the table after the waiter leaves. "Dude," he whispers, "This menu is in another language."
"It’s a French restaurant, J."
"Since when do you read French?"
"Since I checked out the menu online before we came."
Jared flicks a piece of roll at him, which Jensen bats away with his menu.
"Whatever, just order me something I’ll recognize."
"All right, princess."
Jared flicks him off around his water glass as the waiter comes back to take their dinner order. "I’ll have one of these," Jensen says, pointing at the game hen. "And he," he points at Jared, "will have two. He needs his meat." He winks at the waiter, who smirks at Jared, who kicks Jensen under the table.
"I’ll bet he does," the waiter says, looking at Jared in a way that Jensen can only describe as leering. He takes their menus and saunters away.
Jared leans over and smacks Jensen’s head. "What the fuck?" Jared hisses, as Jensen rubs at his ear.
Jensen can’t help laughing and Jared throws more bread bits at him, which Jensen mostly fails to deflect because he’s laughing too hard. "Chill, dude," he says, a bit breathlessly.
Jared complains and Jensen tunes him out until the food comes. When the waiter lays the three hens down on the table, Jared looks at them and then up at Jensen, cocks his head to the side a bit in a way that makes Jensen think he might have given the game away too soon. He opens his mouth to explain, to apologize, to lie and say he didn’t mean it, but Jared just shrugs and grabs his fork and Jensen’s stomach removes itself from Jensen’s throat and drops back down where it belongs.
The waiter hovers for the rest of the evening, just out of sight, but always right there whenever Jared’s water glass falls below half full, or when Jared’s knife slips on the hen and he drops it on the ground. Jensen almost can’t eat for suppressing laughter, and Jared ends up eating most of Jensen’s hen as well.
"So that wasn’t a total bust," Jared says as they’re leaving. He’d made the waiter wrap their leftovers up in a swan, which he then made Jensen carry out of the place. The waiter had been only too happy to accommodate Jared.
"What made you think it’d be a bust?"
"Dude, date night with you?"
Jensen inhales too quickly and coughs around the spit he’d breathed in. "Screw you," he says, coughing, willing his heart to return to its normal pace. "This isn’t a date."
"Good thing," Jared says, "because I am not putting out. You can’t buy me with fancy food."
"Thank God, keep your pants on."
"Whatever," Jared says, and shakes his ass. "You’d totally tap this."
"Can you hear yourself through your narcissism?"
Jared laughs and drops his arm around Jensen’s shoulders as they head out to the parking lot.
Part 5
Author: Merrin/walkawayslowly
Rating: R for language
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Notes: See part one. Also, I forgot to mention in part one, but causeways is also betaing these for me as I write them, a process that invariably involves her sending it back to me and telling me to make the ending better before I post it in five minutes. Thanks, babe. :)
Continued from Part 3
Three days after Christmas, Jensen drags them both to a little French restaurant downtown. It’s a lot nicer than the places they usually eat, white linen tablecloths and more than one kind of fork. It’s quiet and close inside, intimate, and Jensen wishes he’d thought this through a little bit better. It feels too much like a date, it looks too much like a date. He can wish all he wants, but he knows that’s not what this is.
"So who gave you a gift certificate to this place?" Jared asks as they sit down at their table. "And why didn’t I get one?"
"Because people like me better?"
"Who likes you better?"
Jensen picks up the menu, makes a show of opening it and perusing it. "Everyone likes me better. I’m prettier."
"Says who, your mom?"
"As a matter of fact-"
The waiter interrupts them then, a snooty little man in a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He shows them a wine list, which Jared commandeers. Jensen’s pretty sure he chooses by randomly pointing; neither one of them is up on their French wines.
Jared leans over the table after the waiter leaves. "Dude," he whispers, "This menu is in another language."
"It’s a French restaurant, J."
"Since when do you read French?"
"Since I checked out the menu online before we came."
Jared flicks a piece of roll at him, which Jensen bats away with his menu.
"Whatever, just order me something I’ll recognize."
"All right, princess."
Jared flicks him off around his water glass as the waiter comes back to take their dinner order. "I’ll have one of these," Jensen says, pointing at the game hen. "And he," he points at Jared, "will have two. He needs his meat." He winks at the waiter, who smirks at Jared, who kicks Jensen under the table.
"I’ll bet he does," the waiter says, looking at Jared in a way that Jensen can only describe as leering. He takes their menus and saunters away.
Jared leans over and smacks Jensen’s head. "What the fuck?" Jared hisses, as Jensen rubs at his ear.
Jensen can’t help laughing and Jared throws more bread bits at him, which Jensen mostly fails to deflect because he’s laughing too hard. "Chill, dude," he says, a bit breathlessly.
Jared complains and Jensen tunes him out until the food comes. When the waiter lays the three hens down on the table, Jared looks at them and then up at Jensen, cocks his head to the side a bit in a way that makes Jensen think he might have given the game away too soon. He opens his mouth to explain, to apologize, to lie and say he didn’t mean it, but Jared just shrugs and grabs his fork and Jensen’s stomach removes itself from Jensen’s throat and drops back down where it belongs.
The waiter hovers for the rest of the evening, just out of sight, but always right there whenever Jared’s water glass falls below half full, or when Jared’s knife slips on the hen and he drops it on the ground. Jensen almost can’t eat for suppressing laughter, and Jared ends up eating most of Jensen’s hen as well.
"So that wasn’t a total bust," Jared says as they’re leaving. He’d made the waiter wrap their leftovers up in a swan, which he then made Jensen carry out of the place. The waiter had been only too happy to accommodate Jared.
"What made you think it’d be a bust?"
"Dude, date night with you?"
Jensen inhales too quickly and coughs around the spit he’d breathed in. "Screw you," he says, coughing, willing his heart to return to its normal pace. "This isn’t a date."
"Good thing," Jared says, "because I am not putting out. You can’t buy me with fancy food."
"Thank God, keep your pants on."
"Whatever," Jared says, and shakes his ass. "You’d totally tap this."
"Can you hear yourself through your narcissism?"
Jared laughs and drops his arm around Jensen’s shoulders as they head out to the parking lot.
Part 5