[mijmeraar] the house that JnJ built, 15+.
Title: The House That Jared and Jensen Built.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: 15+
AN: Thanks to deluweil who inspired this story without even knowing. This is so, so silly but it is the silly season so. Happy Holidays!
It’s just into December, early, when Jared bangs and crashes into the kitchen with a big, silver tray and a bag full of groceries. Jensen watches from the door way as Jared slowly unpacks, as his grin slowly unfurls.
“You want to know what I’m doing, don’t you,” he says, teasing, flour and eggs and sugar, check. Jensen glances at his watch.
“Well - ”
“You’re teeming with suspense,” Jared tells him, tying the plastic bag when he’s done. “I can smell it on you.”
“Did you just say teeming?”
“Okay, okay, if you really want to know.” Jared claps his hands together. He looks like a little kid, sweaty bangs and bright eyes. His teeth play at his lip. “We’re gonna build a gingerbread house.”
Jensen throws a lazy look over his shoulder. “You and … Julia Child?”
“Me and you.”
“That’s … funny.” Jensen says monotone. He’s made his way to the bench, idly looking over Jared’s stash. Candy, candy, diabetes, candy. “What a great story.”
“It’s going to be amazing.”
“Amazing? ‘Oh good Lord what did you do’ kind of amazing or?”
“Wow, Jensen, your sarcasm is really coming along. I’ve taught you well.”
Jensen waits until Jared’s back is turned before he grins. “Eat me.”
With his head buried deep in the dirty, abandoned bake wear cupboard, Jared cackles.
“Run, run, run, as fast as you can …”
*
At the half way mark, with two walls up and the kitchen in tatters, they manage to run out of icing.
“Dude.” Jensen’s standing there, holding the third wall together after Jared had stuck a fork in it to see if it was cooked. “What did you do, eat it all?”
“I only had a spoon full!” Jared protests. “Or ten.”
“I should just spread you on here.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Would you just … move?” Jensen motions to the door with his elbows. “This was your idea, and I’m the one who’s doing everything.”
“That’s because you’re a control freak. Don’t do that! Not like that! You’re ruining its structural integrity!”
“Your method was unstable,” Jensen says; a professional air.
Jared’s look says, you’re unstable. “It’s gingerbread, Dorothy. I wasn’t worried about tornadoes. You know, this is just like that time I bought the Star Wars Lego and you were all,” Jared raises his voice an octave, here, “How old are you, five? And then you spent the whole night putting the thing together and slapping me when I tried to touch it.”
Jensen blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, fine. Fine. I’ll go and get the frosting, but the next time I bring home a kickass project and you’re a little bitch about it, don’t even think about taking over.”
“Just go!”
Jared flicks his keys at Jensen, tinkling. “It’s going to have bright lights. Laser noises. ”
“Jared.”
“There’ll be accessories.”
Jensen moves in on Jared, his hands still full of gingerbread and frosting. He says, “I’m going to punch you in the head,” but he’s wearing an apron that says Hands Off My Wock, so.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
*
Jensen’s on his back on their bed and Jared’s down by his belly and kissing at his hips. Jensen’s fingers circle lazy through Jared’s hair, his eyes are closed.
“You taste like gingerbread,” Jared tells him, muffled with skin.
“You’re hallucinating.”
“I’m hungry,” Jared concedes and then he’s gone, stark naked and traipsing out of the room. Jensen lies, and waits, brushes flour from his elbow, kicks the dirty sheet to the floor.
“This is the proudest day of my life,” Jared says when he gets back, standing at the threshold with a tray balanced on his forearms, a stupid, dimpled grin. There’s a big, white mound of frosting at the centre of the board, shards of gingerbread sticking out of the top. All the candy’s gone.
“What about the Key Lime Pie of ’07?”
“That we made with no limes.” Jared sighs fondly. “I loved that pie.”
“Alright, bring it over.” Jensen sits up and pats the bed and Jared laughs triumphant, settling it down. Jared pulls a spoon out of his - out of nowhere and stars carving out a big chunk.
“What happens when you lose all your teeth?”
Jared shrugs, puts his spoon in his mouth and talks around it. “I’ll probably give better bl - ”
“Stop. Now. Don’t.”
Jared chuckles, falls down onto his back and licks at his spoon like it’s a lollipop. “I feel like this is how Michelangelo must have felt. When he did the Sistine Chapel.”
“I feel like this is how my therapist feels. When I talk about you.”
“We did a great thing here, today, Jensen.”
“What, the sex? We do that every - ’
“No, you ingrate. The house. Look at it.” Jensen does, and curls his nose. “It’s this little hill of happiness.”
“It’s time to move to a new neighbourhood.”
“It won’t matter how far you go, Jensen, you’ll always come home to us.”
It’s as Jared attempts to embrace the gingerbread hovel, Jensen makes a hasty exit. He can hear Jared singing Jenny From The Block, all the way down the hall.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: 15+
AN: Thanks to deluweil who inspired this story without even knowing. This is so, so silly but it is the silly season so. Happy Holidays!
It’s just into December, early, when Jared bangs and crashes into the kitchen with a big, silver tray and a bag full of groceries. Jensen watches from the door way as Jared slowly unpacks, as his grin slowly unfurls.
“You want to know what I’m doing, don’t you,” he says, teasing, flour and eggs and sugar, check. Jensen glances at his watch.
“Well - ”
“You’re teeming with suspense,” Jared tells him, tying the plastic bag when he’s done. “I can smell it on you.”
“Did you just say teeming?”
“Okay, okay, if you really want to know.” Jared claps his hands together. He looks like a little kid, sweaty bangs and bright eyes. His teeth play at his lip. “We’re gonna build a gingerbread house.”
Jensen throws a lazy look over his shoulder. “You and … Julia Child?”
“Me and you.”
“That’s … funny.” Jensen says monotone. He’s made his way to the bench, idly looking over Jared’s stash. Candy, candy, diabetes, candy. “What a great story.”
“It’s going to be amazing.”
“Amazing? ‘Oh good Lord what did you do’ kind of amazing or?”
“Wow, Jensen, your sarcasm is really coming along. I’ve taught you well.”
Jensen waits until Jared’s back is turned before he grins. “Eat me.”
With his head buried deep in the dirty, abandoned bake wear cupboard, Jared cackles.
“Run, run, run, as fast as you can …”
*
At the half way mark, with two walls up and the kitchen in tatters, they manage to run out of icing.
“Dude.” Jensen’s standing there, holding the third wall together after Jared had stuck a fork in it to see if it was cooked. “What did you do, eat it all?”
“I only had a spoon full!” Jared protests. “Or ten.”
“I should just spread you on here.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Would you just … move?” Jensen motions to the door with his elbows. “This was your idea, and I’m the one who’s doing everything.”
“That’s because you’re a control freak. Don’t do that! Not like that! You’re ruining its structural integrity!”
“Your method was unstable,” Jensen says; a professional air.
Jared’s look says, you’re unstable. “It’s gingerbread, Dorothy. I wasn’t worried about tornadoes. You know, this is just like that time I bought the Star Wars Lego and you were all,” Jared raises his voice an octave, here, “How old are you, five? And then you spent the whole night putting the thing together and slapping me when I tried to touch it.”
Jensen blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, fine. Fine. I’ll go and get the frosting, but the next time I bring home a kickass project and you’re a little bitch about it, don’t even think about taking over.”
“Just go!”
Jared flicks his keys at Jensen, tinkling. “It’s going to have bright lights. Laser noises. ”
“Jared.”
“There’ll be accessories.”
Jensen moves in on Jared, his hands still full of gingerbread and frosting. He says, “I’m going to punch you in the head,” but he’s wearing an apron that says Hands Off My Wock, so.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
*
Jensen’s on his back on their bed and Jared’s down by his belly and kissing at his hips. Jensen’s fingers circle lazy through Jared’s hair, his eyes are closed.
“You taste like gingerbread,” Jared tells him, muffled with skin.
“You’re hallucinating.”
“I’m hungry,” Jared concedes and then he’s gone, stark naked and traipsing out of the room. Jensen lies, and waits, brushes flour from his elbow, kicks the dirty sheet to the floor.
“This is the proudest day of my life,” Jared says when he gets back, standing at the threshold with a tray balanced on his forearms, a stupid, dimpled grin. There’s a big, white mound of frosting at the centre of the board, shards of gingerbread sticking out of the top. All the candy’s gone.
“What about the Key Lime Pie of ’07?”
“That we made with no limes.” Jared sighs fondly. “I loved that pie.”
“Alright, bring it over.” Jensen sits up and pats the bed and Jared laughs triumphant, settling it down. Jared pulls a spoon out of his - out of nowhere and stars carving out a big chunk.
“What happens when you lose all your teeth?”
Jared shrugs, puts his spoon in his mouth and talks around it. “I’ll probably give better bl - ”
“Stop. Now. Don’t.”
Jared chuckles, falls down onto his back and licks at his spoon like it’s a lollipop. “I feel like this is how Michelangelo must have felt. When he did the Sistine Chapel.”
“I feel like this is how my therapist feels. When I talk about you.”
“We did a great thing here, today, Jensen.”
“What, the sex? We do that every - ’
“No, you ingrate. The house. Look at it.” Jensen does, and curls his nose. “It’s this little hill of happiness.”
“It’s time to move to a new neighbourhood.”
“It won’t matter how far you go, Jensen, you’ll always come home to us.”
It’s as Jared attempts to embrace the gingerbread hovel, Jensen makes a hasty exit. He can hear Jared singing Jenny From The Block, all the way down the hall.