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(Have Yourself) A Merry Little Christmas, CWrps, J2, PG
Title: (Have Yourself) A Merry Little Christmas
Fandom: CWrps
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Warnings: So sweet it made my own teeth ache.
Word count: ~1600
Summary: You know that Vancouver weather can't be trusted...
A/N: This started out as comment fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tvm's J2 domestic fic meme, for a prompt by annella here. Then it got a wee bit out of hand, and got tangled up with the idea I had for the presents challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spnflashfic. And then I forgot to post it here. Still unbeta-ed.
It doesn't really catch up to Jared until he's on the phone with Megan, just back from midnight services and yawning through her sniffles of "I hate that you won't be here, JT. I know it's the weather and all, but I hate it." Jared starts to say that it'll be okay, he'll see everyone in a day or two, as soon as he can get a flight, but then it hits him that he's already missed the choir and congregation combining for Silent Night and O, Come All Ye Faithful and that there's not going to be anyone (Megan) sitting at the foot of his bed in the morning, staring at him until he wakes up from the feeling of being watched, so that they can raid the kitchen for the doughnuts Jeff always hides away and start poking and prodding the presents that Mom's much more successfully hidden until sometime after everyone's fallen asleep.
"I know," he finally manages to answer, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. "I hate it, too, Megs."
He pulls himself together and tells Megan to go to bed, that he'll talk to her in the morning. She swears she'll call when she gets to his present (fortunately shipped earlier) and he manages to hang up without any further complications or embarrassing displays of just how much of a sap he really is.
When the dogs finally convince Jared to drag his lame ass out of his bedroom, he finds Jensen in the great room, poking at logs and newspaper in the fireplace.
"Everything okay?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah." Jared surprises himself by laughing. "I don't know who's worse, me or Meg."
"Since she's actually a teenage girl, I'm gonna go with you on this one, Jay."
"Fuck off," Jared answers. "You might have the rest of the world snowed, but I'm the one who called the florist when you were stuck filming on your mom's birthday."
"Hey," Jensen says. "Sending flowers is completely okay under the guy-code."
"Yeah, " Jared snorts. "Breaking four figures in tulips 'cause you’re missing a birthday is very manly."
"They're her favorite flow--" Jensen starts, then catches sight of Jared's grin and gives up. "Yeah, okay; it was a little much."
"We're both hopeless." Jared drops down on the floor, settling his back against the couch and stretching his legs toward the truly impressive fire Jensen's gotten going. Sadie drapes herself across his lap; Harley noses in close. Jared scratches behind both sets of ears, then gestures toward the fireplace. "What's with the pyro-attack?"
"Yule log, man." There's only the light from the fire, but Jared's pretty sure Jensen's not just flushed from the heat of the flames. "I figured if I tried to find a tree, we'd end up drinking that case of crappy beer that's in the hall closet and decorating with the empties." He shrugs. "Been there, done that, way too old to be waking up Christmas morning with a beer hangover."
"Sure, Gramps." Jared grins, because Jensen really is blushing, like it’s such a terrible thing he’s admitting to. "As long as you don’t catch the chimney on fire, we’re golden."
Jared could keep going on like that, because it's never not fun to give Jensen shit when he actually admits to being sentimental--like Jared hadn't figured that out within .02 seconds of meeting the guy--but it's Christmas Eve and it really is awesome to have a fire going, so he shuts his mouth and leans back to get comfortable. Jensen quits fussing with the logs and puts the screen up, so they don't have to dodge exploding bits of wood, which Jared appreciates, seeing as how he's got a hundred pounds of dog pinning him in place. Jensen joins them on the floor, sitting across from them for a bit, then reaches for his guitar.
He doesn't play anything for real, just lets his fingers slide through random bits and pieces, and Jared tips his head back against the couch cushions and feels the tension and disappointment drain out of him. He maybe dozes off a little, but Jensen doesn't give him any grief when he finally picks his head up again.
"Hey," Jared says. "I know we usually do the present thing at the airport, but..."
Jensen doesn't make him say that it's almost Christmas and he's homesick and presents are always a good cure. He just grins and puts his guitar down, getting to his feet with enough energy that Jared knows there's something up.
Jared really likes presents--giving them, as well as getting them. Everybody in the production office knows to bring him any catalogs they get and his trailer is full of the things. He could be better at keeping track of what he buys--one year, Jeff ended up with seven things under the tree from Jared--but he always gets a huge kick out of watching people unwrap stuff. He thinks Jensen likes it, too, but Jen worries about shit a whole lot more than Jared does, which is stupid, because, as far as Jared can tell, Jensen's better than most people at just about everything, and getting people presents isn't any different. But that's Jensen for you, Jared thinks, as he shifts Sadie off his lap and takes the steps up to his bedroom two at a time. Always thinking too much. Of course, Jared doesn't think nearly enough sometimes, so he guesses it all balances out.
"You first," Jared says, when he gets back down to the living room. He drops the envelope in Jensen's lap before he settles back on the floor. Sadie gives him the patient look, the one that wants to know if he's done bopping around yet, so her nap won't be interrupted again. Jared smooths his hand down her back and grins at Jensen. He'd thought about wrapping a bunch of boxes inside each other, with the envelope in the middle, but he'd thought they'd be in the airport when they did this, and Jensen probably would have smacked him by about the third box. This is okay, though--he'll get to see Jen's reaction quicker this way.
Jensen doesn't fool around, just rips into to it and grins when he realizes what the certificate is for. Normally, in Jared's school of thought, gift certificates count as cheating, but this one is for a custom pair of Nike running shoes, the kind they mold around your feet, plus a full set of gear. There's no way Jared could have done it than this, so it's totally okay.
"Awesome, man," Jensen says, and his smile shifts into the one Jared knows is reserved for his family, and occasionally Chris or Steve, which means Jared's done good with the gifting--he had actually worried that Jensen might take it all the wrong way, what with the turning thirty and all, but then decided that Jensen was always bitching about never having the right stuff for the weather, but never quite got around to getting anything better than the craptastic t-shirts he already had.
Jensen reaches behind him and comes up with an envelope of his own; he holds it thoughtfully for a second, just to tease, Jared can tell, but then tosses it over to Jared. Jared should tease back, let Jen twist in the wind while Jared takes his time opening it, but seriously. Where's the fun in that?
The envelope comes apart easily in his hands and he's left holding a couple of sheets of paper printed out from the Internet, the first one from TicketMaster--tickets to the Spurs/Lakers game in the spring. "Dude," Jared says. "How the hell did you manage to get your hands on these?"Jensen doesn't answer, just makes a 'keep going' gesture . Jared shuffles the papers, staring blankly until he figures out that the rest of them are menus and then it hits him that the first page wasn't just for tickets. "A suite?" His voice finds some weird note that it hasn't hit since it started changing in high school and he can feel his jaw dropping, but there it is: 26 tickets to the game, with full catering and parking, and he doesn't exactly know what else, because his brain is pretty much just going round in circles."Holy shit."
"Yeah, well, you won't let me pay rent, so..." Jensen smiles again, and Jared's not sure he's ever seen one like that, but it could just be his head still spinning. "I'm pretty sure it'll be okay with shooting; I ran the date by Eric before I went for it and--"
Jared actually doesn't think before he moves, just nudges Sadie out of the way, so he can get up on his knees and lean over. He slides one hand behind Jensen's head and has one split-second of sanity,one quick flash of what the fuck are you doing, but then Jensen's moving into him and it all goes away. The angle's completely wrong, awkward and just plain weird, but Jensen's mouth is hot and greedy under Jared's, and after the first few seconds, his hand comes up to steady Jared's head, his thumb tracing a path along Jared's cheekbone, one slow touch that Jared swears he feels along every nerve in his body.
"Merry Christmas, Jay," Jensen whispers, and Jared makes a note to say it back, because it very definitely has turned out to be one, but he's going to have to say it later. Much, much later.
Fandom: CWrps
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Warnings: So sweet it made my own teeth ache.
Word count: ~1600
Summary: You know that Vancouver weather can't be trusted...
A/N: This started out as comment fic for
tvm's J2 domestic fic meme, for a prompt by annella here. Then it got a wee bit out of hand, and got tangled up with the idea I had for the presents challenge at spnflashfic. And then I forgot to post it here. Still unbeta-ed. It doesn't really catch up to Jared until he's on the phone with Megan, just back from midnight services and yawning through her sniffles of "I hate that you won't be here, JT. I know it's the weather and all, but I hate it." Jared starts to say that it'll be okay, he'll see everyone in a day or two, as soon as he can get a flight, but then it hits him that he's already missed the choir and congregation combining for Silent Night and O, Come All Ye Faithful and that there's not going to be anyone (Megan) sitting at the foot of his bed in the morning, staring at him until he wakes up from the feeling of being watched, so that they can raid the kitchen for the doughnuts Jeff always hides away and start poking and prodding the presents that Mom's much more successfully hidden until sometime after everyone's fallen asleep.
"I know," he finally manages to answer, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. "I hate it, too, Megs."
He pulls himself together and tells Megan to go to bed, that he'll talk to her in the morning. She swears she'll call when she gets to his present (fortunately shipped earlier) and he manages to hang up without any further complications or embarrassing displays of just how much of a sap he really is.
When the dogs finally convince Jared to drag his lame ass out of his bedroom, he finds Jensen in the great room, poking at logs and newspaper in the fireplace.
"Everything okay?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah." Jared surprises himself by laughing. "I don't know who's worse, me or Meg."
"Since she's actually a teenage girl, I'm gonna go with you on this one, Jay."
"Fuck off," Jared answers. "You might have the rest of the world snowed, but I'm the one who called the florist when you were stuck filming on your mom's birthday."
"Hey," Jensen says. "Sending flowers is completely okay under the guy-code."
"Yeah, " Jared snorts. "Breaking four figures in tulips 'cause you’re missing a birthday is very manly."
"They're her favorite flow--" Jensen starts, then catches sight of Jared's grin and gives up. "Yeah, okay; it was a little much."
"We're both hopeless." Jared drops down on the floor, settling his back against the couch and stretching his legs toward the truly impressive fire Jensen's gotten going. Sadie drapes herself across his lap; Harley noses in close. Jared scratches behind both sets of ears, then gestures toward the fireplace. "What's with the pyro-attack?"
"Yule log, man." There's only the light from the fire, but Jared's pretty sure Jensen's not just flushed from the heat of the flames. "I figured if I tried to find a tree, we'd end up drinking that case of crappy beer that's in the hall closet and decorating with the empties." He shrugs. "Been there, done that, way too old to be waking up Christmas morning with a beer hangover."
"Sure, Gramps." Jared grins, because Jensen really is blushing, like it’s such a terrible thing he’s admitting to. "As long as you don’t catch the chimney on fire, we’re golden."
Jared could keep going on like that, because it's never not fun to give Jensen shit when he actually admits to being sentimental--like Jared hadn't figured that out within .02 seconds of meeting the guy--but it's Christmas Eve and it really is awesome to have a fire going, so he shuts his mouth and leans back to get comfortable. Jensen quits fussing with the logs and puts the screen up, so they don't have to dodge exploding bits of wood, which Jared appreciates, seeing as how he's got a hundred pounds of dog pinning him in place. Jensen joins them on the floor, sitting across from them for a bit, then reaches for his guitar.
He doesn't play anything for real, just lets his fingers slide through random bits and pieces, and Jared tips his head back against the couch cushions and feels the tension and disappointment drain out of him. He maybe dozes off a little, but Jensen doesn't give him any grief when he finally picks his head up again.
"Hey," Jared says. "I know we usually do the present thing at the airport, but..."
Jensen doesn't make him say that it's almost Christmas and he's homesick and presents are always a good cure. He just grins and puts his guitar down, getting to his feet with enough energy that Jared knows there's something up.
Jared really likes presents--giving them, as well as getting them. Everybody in the production office knows to bring him any catalogs they get and his trailer is full of the things. He could be better at keeping track of what he buys--one year, Jeff ended up with seven things under the tree from Jared--but he always gets a huge kick out of watching people unwrap stuff. He thinks Jensen likes it, too, but Jen worries about shit a whole lot more than Jared does, which is stupid, because, as far as Jared can tell, Jensen's better than most people at just about everything, and getting people presents isn't any different. But that's Jensen for you, Jared thinks, as he shifts Sadie off his lap and takes the steps up to his bedroom two at a time. Always thinking too much. Of course, Jared doesn't think nearly enough sometimes, so he guesses it all balances out.
"You first," Jared says, when he gets back down to the living room. He drops the envelope in Jensen's lap before he settles back on the floor. Sadie gives him the patient look, the one that wants to know if he's done bopping around yet, so her nap won't be interrupted again. Jared smooths his hand down her back and grins at Jensen. He'd thought about wrapping a bunch of boxes inside each other, with the envelope in the middle, but he'd thought they'd be in the airport when they did this, and Jensen probably would have smacked him by about the third box. This is okay, though--he'll get to see Jen's reaction quicker this way.
Jensen doesn't fool around, just rips into to it and grins when he realizes what the certificate is for. Normally, in Jared's school of thought, gift certificates count as cheating, but this one is for a custom pair of Nike running shoes, the kind they mold around your feet, plus a full set of gear. There's no way Jared could have done it than this, so it's totally okay.
"Awesome, man," Jensen says, and his smile shifts into the one Jared knows is reserved for his family, and occasionally Chris or Steve, which means Jared's done good with the gifting--he had actually worried that Jensen might take it all the wrong way, what with the turning thirty and all, but then decided that Jensen was always bitching about never having the right stuff for the weather, but never quite got around to getting anything better than the craptastic t-shirts he already had.
Jensen reaches behind him and comes up with an envelope of his own; he holds it thoughtfully for a second, just to tease, Jared can tell, but then tosses it over to Jared. Jared should tease back, let Jen twist in the wind while Jared takes his time opening it, but seriously. Where's the fun in that?
The envelope comes apart easily in his hands and he's left holding a couple of sheets of paper printed out from the Internet, the first one from TicketMaster--tickets to the Spurs/Lakers game in the spring. "Dude," Jared says. "How the hell did you manage to get your hands on these?"Jensen doesn't answer, just makes a 'keep going' gesture . Jared shuffles the papers, staring blankly until he figures out that the rest of them are menus and then it hits him that the first page wasn't just for tickets. "A suite?" His voice finds some weird note that it hasn't hit since it started changing in high school and he can feel his jaw dropping, but there it is: 26 tickets to the game, with full catering and parking, and he doesn't exactly know what else, because his brain is pretty much just going round in circles."Holy shit."
"Yeah, well, you won't let me pay rent, so..." Jensen smiles again, and Jared's not sure he's ever seen one like that, but it could just be his head still spinning. "I'm pretty sure it'll be okay with shooting; I ran the date by Eric before I went for it and--"
Jared actually doesn't think before he moves, just nudges Sadie out of the way, so he can get up on his knees and lean over. He slides one hand behind Jensen's head and has one split-second of sanity,one quick flash of what the fuck are you doing, but then Jensen's moving into him and it all goes away. The angle's completely wrong, awkward and just plain weird, but Jensen's mouth is hot and greedy under Jared's, and after the first few seconds, his hand comes up to steady Jared's head, his thumb tracing a path along Jared's cheekbone, one slow touch that Jared swears he feels along every nerve in his body.
"Merry Christmas, Jay," Jensen whispers, and Jared makes a note to say it back, because it very definitely has turned out to be one, but he's going to have to say it later. Much, much later.