Fic - I Feel Like I'm Babysitting But I'm Not Getting Paid (11/?)
Title: I Feel Like I'm Babysitting But I'm Not Getting Paid (11/?)
Genre/Rating: Supernatural RPS/PG
Characters: Jeff, wee!Jared, kid!Jensen, kid!Chris, kid!Steve, kid!Misha
Summary: It's a weekend in the life of Jeff after he wakes up to a house full of boys instead of adults.
Author's Notes: This 'verse sprang from a comment_fic prompt and now it has a life of its own.
Link to Master post - all chapters
The smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies permeated Jeff’s kitchen. It gave the house such a homey feel particularly in combination with the afternoon clouds that had rolled in casting a grey pall over the yard. The wind had picked up and rain seemed to be on the way. It looked gloomy outside, but on the inside it was still sunshine and gummi bears.
Once the first cookie sheets had been transferred into the oven, the necessary wait time between baking and eating began. Jeff couldn’t even prepare the peanut butter cookies for baking because all of his cookie sheets were in use. Smelling the cookies baking and sitting in front of bowls of uncooked peanut butter batter and unwrapped Hershey Kisses while being denied the treat he had been promised did not sit well with Jared.
Surprisingly, it was Misha who took the littlest houseguest in hand. Sticking with his earlier Sesame Street motif Misha started an impromptu “C is for Cookie” sing-along. At first everyone was seated, banging fists and wooden spoons on the table top for the final chorus of “cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!” but it quickly evolved into a bunny hop/conga line parade around the living room.
Misha led the way brandishing a spatula and Jared was right behind waving his spoon. Both were delighted to be up and moving because there was more room for improvisational dancing. Misha was inclined toward freeze dance poses, but Jared just wanted to shake his butt.
Watching Misha act like such a goof who was willing to play with Jared instead of playing around him finally melted the last of Jensen’s reservations. He hopped off of his chair to join the parade; Chris was close behind. Steve appointed himself parade supervisor and brought up the rear.
With the kitchen emptied, Jeff took the opportunity to wash the bowl that had been used to mix the chocolate chip cookie dough. He pondered all the crazy nonsense that had taken place over the weekend turning his quiet house into an unofficial home for this troop of boys. A rumble of thunder from outside played in low counterpoint to the singing from the living room. It made Jeff feel cozy and tucked-in.
It wasn’t until Jeff turned back toward the table that he realized that he wasn’t alone; for some reason, Chris had returned to the table. Though he was standing by the batter bowl, his eyes were fixed on the windows. Chris hovered - not quite willing to be part of the group in the living room, and not sure of his welcome in the kitchen.
A quick glance into the living room told Jeff that nothing was amiss; no more amiss than usual, that was. Misha was down on all fours and Jared was getting the ride of his life, giggling like crazy while Misha continued to sing. After every “good enough for me” Misha lifted and kicked a limb or two, throwing Jared off balance and causing a great deal of glee. “Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!” involved more butt shaking that would’ve thrown Jared right off Misha’s back if he didn’t have the older boy’s shirt in a death grip. Jensen and Steve marched along on either side making sure that if Jared started flailing with both hands he wouldn’t fall.
Jeff looked back to Chris whose gaze drifted between the kitchen windows and the sink. When Chris realized that Jeff noticed his return he asked, “What do we do next?”
Jeff grabbed a large serving platter from the cabinet and brought it to the table. He slid the bowl full of peanut butter cookie dough toward Chris and sat down next to the boy placing the serving dish between them.
“We need to make dough balls,” Jeff explained. He raised his eyebrows and made a face recalling the silliness from earlier. Chris smirked and then got focused.
“These really should be all the same size, right? In order for them to cook evenly?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Jeff nodded. It seemed like Steve and Chris’ foodie memories were starting to make their way back into their consciousness. Once again Jeff tried not to get his hopes up because it really could just be wishful thinking, but he thought he was seeing reflections of the men he knew starting to rise to the surface.
Jeff molded a ball of dough the size he was looking for and held it out on his palm for Chris to inspect. “They should be about this big.” Chris nodded his understanding and dug into the dough. He quickly made his own and showed it to Jeff.
“Perfect!” Jeff resisted the impulse to ruffle the kid’s hair. As snuggly and uninhibited as Jared was, Chris was not. More than once over the course of the weekend Jeff had made a quick move too close to Chris and the boy didn’t have enough time to cover the way he flinched. It really made Jeff want to go back in time and beat someone senseless.
They quickly settled down to work. Jeff kept half an ear on the chaos from the other room. It sounded like the game had evolved from dancing to Misha deliberately tossing Jared off of his back onto the couch. The shrieks of glee indicated that the game was a big hit.
A large gust of wind rattled the windows in their frames, and an unexpected branch crashed into the glass. Chris was out of his chair like a shot but paused mid-flight, not really understanding where his instincts wanted him to go.
The boy’s blue eyes were wide with barely contained panic when he turned to Jeff. “Do y’all have a basement?”
Chris’ good ol’ boy accent was thick; it reminded Jeff that he grew up in Oklahoma. That was tornado country, wasn’t it?
Oh crap.
Jeff had risen halfway from his chair when Chris bolted, and now he stood all the way up. He tried to appear as unthreatening as possible which was difficult to do with the disparity in their heights.
“Hey buddy…it’s okay. It’s just a little storm.”
Mother Nature mocked Jeff with an ear-splitting crack of thunder and a brilliant lightning strike. Chris’ reserves were immediately gone; his fear overrode any tough-guy façade or adult understanding that might have been returning - suddenly he was all boy and Jeff’s arms were full of him.
The storm quieted the noise in the living room. A quick glance showed that all eyes were on the kitchen. Jeff could see Misha kneeling straight up on his knees on the far side of the couch. Jared was stuck to his back like a spider monkey; his little arms in a death grip around Misha’s neck. Jensen had jumped under Steve’s protective arm. The bigger boys were startled, but grown enough not to show their fear; not so for the little ones.
It looked like Jeff had about two seconds before Jensen hurtled right off the deep end into all out panic, and if he went, Jared would too. Poor Chris was already shaking out and Jeff was at a loss at how to calm him. Jeff opened his mouth to initiate some kind of plan, at the very least to get the group together, but was interrupted by all three dogs making a noisy entrance, another deafening peal of thunder and the oven timer shrilly announcing that the cookies were done.
Perfect.
And if I've got it stuck in my head, you should have it stuck in yours...Sing with me! C is for Cookie!
Genre/Rating: Supernatural RPS/PG
Characters: Jeff, wee!Jared, kid!Jensen, kid!Chris, kid!Steve, kid!Misha
Summary: It's a weekend in the life of Jeff after he wakes up to a house full of boys instead of adults.
Author's Notes: This 'verse sprang from a comment_fic prompt and now it has a life of its own.
Link to Master post - all chapters
The smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies permeated Jeff’s kitchen. It gave the house such a homey feel particularly in combination with the afternoon clouds that had rolled in casting a grey pall over the yard. The wind had picked up and rain seemed to be on the way. It looked gloomy outside, but on the inside it was still sunshine and gummi bears.
Once the first cookie sheets had been transferred into the oven, the necessary wait time between baking and eating began. Jeff couldn’t even prepare the peanut butter cookies for baking because all of his cookie sheets were in use. Smelling the cookies baking and sitting in front of bowls of uncooked peanut butter batter and unwrapped Hershey Kisses while being denied the treat he had been promised did not sit well with Jared.
Surprisingly, it was Misha who took the littlest houseguest in hand. Sticking with his earlier Sesame Street motif Misha started an impromptu “C is for Cookie” sing-along. At first everyone was seated, banging fists and wooden spoons on the table top for the final chorus of “cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!” but it quickly evolved into a bunny hop/conga line parade around the living room.
Misha led the way brandishing a spatula and Jared was right behind waving his spoon. Both were delighted to be up and moving because there was more room for improvisational dancing. Misha was inclined toward freeze dance poses, but Jared just wanted to shake his butt.
Watching Misha act like such a goof who was willing to play with Jared instead of playing around him finally melted the last of Jensen’s reservations. He hopped off of his chair to join the parade; Chris was close behind. Steve appointed himself parade supervisor and brought up the rear.
With the kitchen emptied, Jeff took the opportunity to wash the bowl that had been used to mix the chocolate chip cookie dough. He pondered all the crazy nonsense that had taken place over the weekend turning his quiet house into an unofficial home for this troop of boys. A rumble of thunder from outside played in low counterpoint to the singing from the living room. It made Jeff feel cozy and tucked-in.
It wasn’t until Jeff turned back toward the table that he realized that he wasn’t alone; for some reason, Chris had returned to the table. Though he was standing by the batter bowl, his eyes were fixed on the windows. Chris hovered - not quite willing to be part of the group in the living room, and not sure of his welcome in the kitchen.
A quick glance into the living room told Jeff that nothing was amiss; no more amiss than usual, that was. Misha was down on all fours and Jared was getting the ride of his life, giggling like crazy while Misha continued to sing. After every “good enough for me” Misha lifted and kicked a limb or two, throwing Jared off balance and causing a great deal of glee. “Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!” involved more butt shaking that would’ve thrown Jared right off Misha’s back if he didn’t have the older boy’s shirt in a death grip. Jensen and Steve marched along on either side making sure that if Jared started flailing with both hands he wouldn’t fall.
Jeff looked back to Chris whose gaze drifted between the kitchen windows and the sink. When Chris realized that Jeff noticed his return he asked, “What do we do next?”
Jeff grabbed a large serving platter from the cabinet and brought it to the table. He slid the bowl full of peanut butter cookie dough toward Chris and sat down next to the boy placing the serving dish between them.
“We need to make dough balls,” Jeff explained. He raised his eyebrows and made a face recalling the silliness from earlier. Chris smirked and then got focused.
“These really should be all the same size, right? In order for them to cook evenly?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Jeff nodded. It seemed like Steve and Chris’ foodie memories were starting to make their way back into their consciousness. Once again Jeff tried not to get his hopes up because it really could just be wishful thinking, but he thought he was seeing reflections of the men he knew starting to rise to the surface.
Jeff molded a ball of dough the size he was looking for and held it out on his palm for Chris to inspect. “They should be about this big.” Chris nodded his understanding and dug into the dough. He quickly made his own and showed it to Jeff.
“Perfect!” Jeff resisted the impulse to ruffle the kid’s hair. As snuggly and uninhibited as Jared was, Chris was not. More than once over the course of the weekend Jeff had made a quick move too close to Chris and the boy didn’t have enough time to cover the way he flinched. It really made Jeff want to go back in time and beat someone senseless.
They quickly settled down to work. Jeff kept half an ear on the chaos from the other room. It sounded like the game had evolved from dancing to Misha deliberately tossing Jared off of his back onto the couch. The shrieks of glee indicated that the game was a big hit.
A large gust of wind rattled the windows in their frames, and an unexpected branch crashed into the glass. Chris was out of his chair like a shot but paused mid-flight, not really understanding where his instincts wanted him to go.
The boy’s blue eyes were wide with barely contained panic when he turned to Jeff. “Do y’all have a basement?”
Chris’ good ol’ boy accent was thick; it reminded Jeff that he grew up in Oklahoma. That was tornado country, wasn’t it?
Oh crap.
Jeff had risen halfway from his chair when Chris bolted, and now he stood all the way up. He tried to appear as unthreatening as possible which was difficult to do with the disparity in their heights.
“Hey buddy…it’s okay. It’s just a little storm.”
Mother Nature mocked Jeff with an ear-splitting crack of thunder and a brilliant lightning strike. Chris’ reserves were immediately gone; his fear overrode any tough-guy façade or adult understanding that might have been returning - suddenly he was all boy and Jeff’s arms were full of him.
The storm quieted the noise in the living room. A quick glance showed that all eyes were on the kitchen. Jeff could see Misha kneeling straight up on his knees on the far side of the couch. Jared was stuck to his back like a spider monkey; his little arms in a death grip around Misha’s neck. Jensen had jumped under Steve’s protective arm. The bigger boys were startled, but grown enough not to show their fear; not so for the little ones.
It looked like Jeff had about two seconds before Jensen hurtled right off the deep end into all out panic, and if he went, Jared would too. Poor Chris was already shaking out and Jeff was at a loss at how to calm him. Jeff opened his mouth to initiate some kind of plan, at the very least to get the group together, but was interrupted by all three dogs making a noisy entrance, another deafening peal of thunder and the oven timer shrilly announcing that the cookies were done.
Perfect.
And if I've got it stuck in my head, you should have it stuck in yours...Sing with me! C is for Cookie!
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