FIC: JT’s Kitchen (Operation: Seduce Jensen Ackles Edition) a soundtrack for the Food Network
Here is the second soundtrack for the Food Network 'verse. Under the cut is art by myinkyfingers , a link to download it and the first timestamp for the 'verse. Get pumped. 
lTitle: JT’s Kitchen Mix (Operation Seduce Jensen Ackles Edition)
Pairing: Pre Jsquared
Rating: A bit of swearing
Timing: A timestamp right at the beginning of The Art of Not Dating
Summary: Jared makes a mixed CD for the Restaurant
Words: 1,000
Author: Azure K Mello
Bunny care of: mediaville found here: http://mediaville.livejournal.com/12649.html
It was early on Saturday, only a few days after meeting Jensen and Jamie. The night before he’d gone to drop off the DVD of the show that would never air and had learned about their date night. A date night based on eating out even though Jamie couldn’t really eat out. He had a plan and it was a great one. He would go over on Tuesday to cook with them and he would ask Jensen out for an unsafe meal because he must miss seafood and wheat. It would work. It wouldn’t be a date. Jensen could shower at his place, keep Jamie safe and he could get to know Jared and see that Jared was awesome and totally real date worthy.
And, as Jamie liked him, if Jensen said no then he could always ask next Tuesday because Jamie would invite him for next Tuesday too. On top of that, Jared was excited for his cooking lesson. But right now it was eight AM and tonight he was going to be cooking at the restaurant. He was fast asleep until his phone rang. Caller ID said it was JT’s so he picked up. “H’lo?”
“It’s me,” said Paris.
“What’s up?”
“I’m cooking lunch today and right now I’m making the bread. I was making a new batch of heat infused olive oil and I had a small fire.”
Jared sat up, totally awake, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me find shoes.”
“No, it was very, very small. No damage.”
He took a breath, “Oh thank God. Are you burned?”
“No, the only thing that got injured was the kitchen mix; I had the disk next to me. It’s broken now. I need music for the lunch rush. I’ve been up since four, Jay. I won’t get through lunch without music. You’re the head chef; this is your kitchen: make me a CD.”
He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his eyes, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
He got his computer and started to put together a mix. Some songs were staples, on every single mix the kitchen had ever had. Some Parry Gripp songs about food, “Comfort,” “Do I Look Like a Slut?” “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” Billy Idol, T. Rex, and “I Can See Clearly Now,” but everything else was for Jensen. He titled it appropriately, burned it and printed out the playlist. He fed the dogs, played with them a little and let them out into the yard where they could hang out for the morning. They couldn’t get out and no one could get in. He showered, dressed and drove over to the restaurant.
Paris was teaching their newest hostess how to perfectly poach an egg. They had a policy that they would teach anyone on the staff simple cooking as long as it wasn’t at a rush time. He popped the CD into the boom box and sank into the feeling of being in his kitchen. It smelled like baking bread and slow cooking pork. He didn’t get enough time in the restaurant during the shooting season. But he couldn’t bitch: without the show he never would have had the money to open JT’s. Paris looked at the playlist and said, “Parry Gripp isn’t funny no matter how many times you put him on.” Then to the girl she said, “Leave the egg alone, stop molesting it.”
“Liar,” he said, “he’s fucking hilarious.”
She rolled her eyes, “‘Don’t Hate Me’ and ‘Deadly Handsome Man’, seriously? Even you can’t be that vain.”
“I’m a great catch, Paris. He’ll see that.”
“And a song about cowboys? Do you really consider yourself a cowboy?” She showed the girl how to remove the egg without breaking it and said, “Lesson’s over for today.”
He nodded as she left, “Yes, I’m a kitchen cowboy.” Paris raised an eyebrow. “Don’t burst my bubble; don’t be mean. At least we don’t do any of that molecular gastronomy bullshit. We’re rustic and awesome. We do great food very well; we’re not pretentious.”
She read the list again. “He must like you more than Yoo-Hoo, no one likes Yoo-Hoo.”
Rolling his eyes Jared said, “That’s really encouraging. Thanks for being a friend.”
She laughed and took the old playlist off the fridge and put the new one on in its place. The huge industrial fridge was decoupaged with pictures from college and inside jokes. It was coated in polyurethane to keep it easy to clean and sanitary. Looking at the fridge made Jared happy because it was a record of their time as friends and for the restaurant. The largest was a picture of him, Paris and Elisha at the opening night party Jared had a party blower in his mouth and they were all smiling.
Lots of phrases were scattered in amongst the photos, “You know your stalker is a chef when you find your pet bunny on the stove in a superb tarragon, rose petal & saffron demi-glace.” Different variations of “Why did the chef get arrested?” jokes were scattered in (he beat the egg, he whipped the cream, he skinned the pear). Pictures of them in Central Park were next to quotes like, “While studying for the wine final I got shit faced and I almost slept through the test.” and “I’m repeatedly tasting not glutting: there’s a difference.” and “If I fuck up the sauce one more time you can take away my wooden spoon.” In huge hot pick letters was the mantra for the restaurant, “I will not poison the FUCKER at table four.” Fucker at table four was code for anyone who ordered meat well done. There were a lot of pictures of the dogs as his babies weren’t allowed inside.
Paris sighed, “Do you want brunch before everyone gets here?”
“Do you have time?” he asked but he was already sitting himself down at the table after pouring himself a sweet tea.
“As long as you want poached eggs and fresh bread.”
To download the soundtrack please click here. Let me know what you think.
lTitle: JT’s Kitchen Mix (Operation Seduce Jensen Ackles Edition)
Pairing: Pre Jsquared
Rating: A bit of swearing
Timing: A timestamp right at the beginning of The Art of Not Dating
Summary: Jared makes a mixed CD for the Restaurant
Words: 1,000
Author: Azure K Mello
Bunny care of: mediaville found here: http://mediaville.livejournal.com/12649.html
It was early on Saturday, only a few days after meeting Jensen and Jamie. The night before he’d gone to drop off the DVD of the show that would never air and had learned about their date night. A date night based on eating out even though Jamie couldn’t really eat out. He had a plan and it was a great one. He would go over on Tuesday to cook with them and he would ask Jensen out for an unsafe meal because he must miss seafood and wheat. It would work. It wouldn’t be a date. Jensen could shower at his place, keep Jamie safe and he could get to know Jared and see that Jared was awesome and totally real date worthy.
And, as Jamie liked him, if Jensen said no then he could always ask next Tuesday because Jamie would invite him for next Tuesday too. On top of that, Jared was excited for his cooking lesson. But right now it was eight AM and tonight he was going to be cooking at the restaurant. He was fast asleep until his phone rang. Caller ID said it was JT’s so he picked up. “H’lo?”
“It’s me,” said Paris.
“What’s up?”
“I’m cooking lunch today and right now I’m making the bread. I was making a new batch of heat infused olive oil and I had a small fire.”
Jared sat up, totally awake, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me find shoes.”
“No, it was very, very small. No damage.”
He took a breath, “Oh thank God. Are you burned?”
“No, the only thing that got injured was the kitchen mix; I had the disk next to me. It’s broken now. I need music for the lunch rush. I’ve been up since four, Jay. I won’t get through lunch without music. You’re the head chef; this is your kitchen: make me a CD.”
He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his eyes, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
He got his computer and started to put together a mix. Some songs were staples, on every single mix the kitchen had ever had. Some Parry Gripp songs about food, “Comfort,” “Do I Look Like a Slut?” “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” Billy Idol, T. Rex, and “I Can See Clearly Now,” but everything else was for Jensen. He titled it appropriately, burned it and printed out the playlist. He fed the dogs, played with them a little and let them out into the yard where they could hang out for the morning. They couldn’t get out and no one could get in. He showered, dressed and drove over to the restaurant.
Paris was teaching their newest hostess how to perfectly poach an egg. They had a policy that they would teach anyone on the staff simple cooking as long as it wasn’t at a rush time. He popped the CD into the boom box and sank into the feeling of being in his kitchen. It smelled like baking bread and slow cooking pork. He didn’t get enough time in the restaurant during the shooting season. But he couldn’t bitch: without the show he never would have had the money to open JT’s. Paris looked at the playlist and said, “Parry Gripp isn’t funny no matter how many times you put him on.” Then to the girl she said, “Leave the egg alone, stop molesting it.”
“Liar,” he said, “he’s fucking hilarious.”
She rolled her eyes, “‘Don’t Hate Me’ and ‘Deadly Handsome Man’, seriously? Even you can’t be that vain.”
“I’m a great catch, Paris. He’ll see that.”
“And a song about cowboys? Do you really consider yourself a cowboy?” She showed the girl how to remove the egg without breaking it and said, “Lesson’s over for today.”
He nodded as she left, “Yes, I’m a kitchen cowboy.” Paris raised an eyebrow. “Don’t burst my bubble; don’t be mean. At least we don’t do any of that molecular gastronomy bullshit. We’re rustic and awesome. We do great food very well; we’re not pretentious.”
She read the list again. “He must like you more than Yoo-Hoo, no one likes Yoo-Hoo.”
Rolling his eyes Jared said, “That’s really encouraging. Thanks for being a friend.”
She laughed and took the old playlist off the fridge and put the new one on in its place. The huge industrial fridge was decoupaged with pictures from college and inside jokes. It was coated in polyurethane to keep it easy to clean and sanitary. Looking at the fridge made Jared happy because it was a record of their time as friends and for the restaurant. The largest was a picture of him, Paris and Elisha at the opening night party Jared had a party blower in his mouth and they were all smiling.
Lots of phrases were scattered in amongst the photos, “You know your stalker is a chef when you find your pet bunny on the stove in a superb tarragon, rose petal & saffron demi-glace.” Different variations of “Why did the chef get arrested?” jokes were scattered in (he beat the egg, he whipped the cream, he skinned the pear). Pictures of them in Central Park were next to quotes like, “While studying for the wine final I got shit faced and I almost slept through the test.” and “I’m repeatedly tasting not glutting: there’s a difference.” and “If I fuck up the sauce one more time you can take away my wooden spoon.” In huge hot pick letters was the mantra for the restaurant, “I will not poison the FUCKER at table four.” Fucker at table four was code for anyone who ordered meat well done. There were a lot of pictures of the dogs as his babies weren’t allowed inside.
Paris sighed, “Do you want brunch before everyone gets here?”
“Do you have time?” he asked but he was already sitting himself down at the table after pouring himself a sweet tea.
“As long as you want poached eggs and fresh bread.”
To download the soundtrack please click here. Let me know what you think.