SPN RPS: The Jared Padalecki Cookbook 1/1
Mar. 4th, 2007 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: The Jared Padalecki Cookbook
Author: James
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG15
Word Count: ~1,000
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: Jensen enjoys it when Jared bakes. Domestic schmoop.
Jensen walked up to Jared's apartment, pausing at the door. He knew that Jared had meant it when he'd said "just let yourself in." Hell, if he hadn't wanted Jensen barging in he'd never have given him a key in the first place.
But it was one thing to let himself in when Jared wasn't home -- feeding the dogs or just getting done with whatever before Jared and being the first one to arrive. But this still gave him pause. Jared was home, albeit expecting him, yet Jensen was seized with that momentary uncertainty. Maybe he should knock.
He liked to blame it on his upbringing, too polite to just walk in. Trouble with that excuse was he'd grown up summers at his grandparents' place where the door was left unlocked and, often as not, wide open for friends, family, and whatever else to wander in.
The time the geese had got into the living room had not been seven year old Jensen's fault, no matter what his brother said.
Mostly.
But this was no farmhouse in a small town in Texas, where everybody knew everybody else including relations that had moved away three generations back. This was Vancouver, and Jared, and...things that Jensen knew he was probably just avoiding thinking about.
But he let himself in, fumbling only a moment with the key. Closing the door behind him, he listened for signs of Jared's location. He could hear something in the kitchen, then the smell of vanilla and cinnamon hit his nose and made his mouth water. Not surprisingly, it also made him hard, because if there was one thing Jensen had learned within weeks of the first time he'd had sex with Jared, it was what Jared cooking, led to.
Three steps in and the dogs were on him; head scratches and ear rufflings were liberally handed out. Jensen stood still, expectantly, then caught Harley's front paws as they landed on his chest. Jared always scolded them for jumping on people -- a good thing when the dogs were so freaking huge. But Jensen didn't really mind, he just hated to get Harley into trouble. So instead of saying out loud for Harley to get down, he rubbed Harley's head and dropped his paws to the floor. Then he tried to walk to the kitchen before his knees got bruised all to hell from the impact of wagging tails.
"Jensen?" Jared's voice called out from the kitchen, so Jensen headed towards the smell of whatever the hell it was Jared was making.
He rounded the corner, finally leaving the dogs behind in the living room, and stopped.
Jared looked over at him, grinning. There was flour everywhere. All over his chest, where he'd apparently been wiping his hands clean instead of using the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. There was flour all over the counter, flour in his hair for God's sake, and flour smeared right across the bridge of his nose.
Jensen took a step forward, smiling in return. "I thought you invited me over for dinner, not dessert."
For a second, Jared frowned, then the grin was back in force. "There's pizza in the oven. I just thought...." He glanced behind him, gesturing at the bowl surrounded by canisters and bags and things which Jensen would have been hard pressed to identify. He didn't have a clue what Jared was making -- cookies or pie or even a souffle, for all he could tell.
But he took another step forward and reached up, wiping the flour from Jared's face. "You know damn well that we're not getting around to dinner when you do this to me." He resisted the urge to lick the dusting of flour on Jared's cheek, and wiped his flour-covered fingers on his jeans.
Looking and sounding surprised, Jared said, "But I ordered an extra large pepperoni--"
"Which you know we'll eat for breakfast," Jensen interrupted."Which was your plan all along, because we also know damn well that you bake for shit."
Jared blinked, innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You leave out something every time. Salt, or sugar, or...whatever it is that makes it edible." Jensen took another step forward and thought again about not licking the flour off Jared's face. He was pretty close to losing the battle, but... Well, he couldn't remember why he was resisting, actually.
"I'm using my momma's recipe," Jared protested, still looking innocent -- made Jensen think of Jared as a kid, trying to get out of whatever trouble he'd got himself into. He didn't think Jared's parents ever fell for it, and he wasn't about to, either.
Sternly, Jensen told him, "And you're botching it, and despite the fact it smells really fucking good, I'm not eating it. I am, however, eating you." With that he leaned forward, grabbed Jared by the back of the head and yanked him forward. Their mouths met for a brief, hard kiss before Jensen tilted Jared's head to one side and began licking.
It wasn't so much that he liked the taste of flour, but the silky feel of it on his tongue, from Jared's skin, made his cock grow hard. Feeling Jared bump against him and hearing the satisfied sigh made him lick again.
"They could be good this time," Jared insisted, voice already gone slightly breathless.
Jensen paused and gave Jared a look. "So why are you naked?"
With that, Jared grinned again. "Because I'm not planning on eating the cookies, either. Hell, I can't even bake them with the pizza in the oven. Can I fuck you?"
Jensen answered that the only way worth doing -- he pulled Jared in for a kiss, tugging the small towel off Jared's shoulder and dropping it on the counter. He'd want it, later, for cleaning up before dinner.
Or breakfast. Whatever.
Author: James
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG15
Word Count: ~1,000
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: Jensen enjoys it when Jared bakes. Domestic schmoop.
Jensen walked up to Jared's apartment, pausing at the door. He knew that Jared had meant it when he'd said "just let yourself in." Hell, if he hadn't wanted Jensen barging in he'd never have given him a key in the first place.
But it was one thing to let himself in when Jared wasn't home -- feeding the dogs or just getting done with whatever before Jared and being the first one to arrive. But this still gave him pause. Jared was home, albeit expecting him, yet Jensen was seized with that momentary uncertainty. Maybe he should knock.
He liked to blame it on his upbringing, too polite to just walk in. Trouble with that excuse was he'd grown up summers at his grandparents' place where the door was left unlocked and, often as not, wide open for friends, family, and whatever else to wander in.
The time the geese had got into the living room had not been seven year old Jensen's fault, no matter what his brother said.
Mostly.
But this was no farmhouse in a small town in Texas, where everybody knew everybody else including relations that had moved away three generations back. This was Vancouver, and Jared, and...things that Jensen knew he was probably just avoiding thinking about.
But he let himself in, fumbling only a moment with the key. Closing the door behind him, he listened for signs of Jared's location. He could hear something in the kitchen, then the smell of vanilla and cinnamon hit his nose and made his mouth water. Not surprisingly, it also made him hard, because if there was one thing Jensen had learned within weeks of the first time he'd had sex with Jared, it was what Jared cooking, led to.
Three steps in and the dogs were on him; head scratches and ear rufflings were liberally handed out. Jensen stood still, expectantly, then caught Harley's front paws as they landed on his chest. Jared always scolded them for jumping on people -- a good thing when the dogs were so freaking huge. But Jensen didn't really mind, he just hated to get Harley into trouble. So instead of saying out loud for Harley to get down, he rubbed Harley's head and dropped his paws to the floor. Then he tried to walk to the kitchen before his knees got bruised all to hell from the impact of wagging tails.
"Jensen?" Jared's voice called out from the kitchen, so Jensen headed towards the smell of whatever the hell it was Jared was making.
He rounded the corner, finally leaving the dogs behind in the living room, and stopped.
Jared looked over at him, grinning. There was flour everywhere. All over his chest, where he'd apparently been wiping his hands clean instead of using the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. There was flour all over the counter, flour in his hair for God's sake, and flour smeared right across the bridge of his nose.
Jensen took a step forward, smiling in return. "I thought you invited me over for dinner, not dessert."
For a second, Jared frowned, then the grin was back in force. "There's pizza in the oven. I just thought...." He glanced behind him, gesturing at the bowl surrounded by canisters and bags and things which Jensen would have been hard pressed to identify. He didn't have a clue what Jared was making -- cookies or pie or even a souffle, for all he could tell.
But he took another step forward and reached up, wiping the flour from Jared's face. "You know damn well that we're not getting around to dinner when you do this to me." He resisted the urge to lick the dusting of flour on Jared's cheek, and wiped his flour-covered fingers on his jeans.
Looking and sounding surprised, Jared said, "But I ordered an extra large pepperoni--"
"Which you know we'll eat for breakfast," Jensen interrupted."Which was your plan all along, because we also know damn well that you bake for shit."
Jared blinked, innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You leave out something every time. Salt, or sugar, or...whatever it is that makes it edible." Jensen took another step forward and thought again about not licking the flour off Jared's face. He was pretty close to losing the battle, but... Well, he couldn't remember why he was resisting, actually.
"I'm using my momma's recipe," Jared protested, still looking innocent -- made Jensen think of Jared as a kid, trying to get out of whatever trouble he'd got himself into. He didn't think Jared's parents ever fell for it, and he wasn't about to, either.
Sternly, Jensen told him, "And you're botching it, and despite the fact it smells really fucking good, I'm not eating it. I am, however, eating you." With that he leaned forward, grabbed Jared by the back of the head and yanked him forward. Their mouths met for a brief, hard kiss before Jensen tilted Jared's head to one side and began licking.
It wasn't so much that he liked the taste of flour, but the silky feel of it on his tongue, from Jared's skin, made his cock grow hard. Feeling Jared bump against him and hearing the satisfied sigh made him lick again.
"They could be good this time," Jared insisted, voice already gone slightly breathless.
Jensen paused and gave Jared a look. "So why are you naked?"
With that, Jared grinned again. "Because I'm not planning on eating the cookies, either. Hell, I can't even bake them with the pizza in the oven. Can I fuck you?"
Jensen answered that the only way worth doing -- he pulled Jared in for a kiss, tugging the small towel off Jared's shoulder and dropping it on the counter. He'd want it, later, for cleaning up before dinner.
Or breakfast. Whatever.