J-squared schmoop
This goes out to all the people on my flist who hugged me and said nice things to me last night when I was feeling kind of ucky. I love you guys! *group smish*
Jensen/Jared schmoop, PG ~623 words
inspired by![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
_3amconfession's prompt, inertia
Jensen is the lazy one, he admits it. He hates mornings.
Eric and the crew are constantly busting him about being late to set and having bags under his eyes big enough to hold a twelve pack, but it’s not Jensen’s fault his body demands more than four hours of rest a night. And he doesn’t mind the bad rep, really, as long as he gets to sleep in without anyone bothering him too much.
Jared likes to get up early, and sometimes he does sit ups and weird lunges next to the bed. They make him look like he’s constipated, or rabid, or both: a constipated, rabid raccoon with bad hair. He’s always bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when there are 5 AM calls on-set, disgustingly friendly towards whatever intern is delivering him his coffee and dragging fond laughs out of the sterner make-up ladies. It makes Jensen irrationally angry that Jared bounds all over the place like an overgrown golden retriever asking for pets.
But, for Jensen, some mornings are better than others. The really early calls don’t happen every day, so Jensen learns to cherish what time he does have.
Saturdays are his absolute favorites. He gets to wake up slowly to the feeling of Jared next to him, splayed out like a giant sea-star, and usually it is way past noon when he does. Then, as per their Saturday tradition, Jared will roll out of bed after a good half an hour of heavy petting and make French toast.
Jensen never asks where Jared comes up with the ingredients, since his lack of kitchen skill is almost as legendary as his collection of embarrassing wigs, but breakfast is always delicious. Especially since Jensen gets to stay in bed for it.
Sundays are next on the list and Jensen has an incredibly good reason why: Sunday is when Jared likes to tinker with his truck.
He’s always out of bed by the ass-crack of dawn, telling Jensen to go back to sleep. Jared doesn't know it, but only when he clomps back in three or four hours later, sheds his dirty white shirt, and climbs into bed again can Jensen get any rest. There’s something that smells very much like ‘home’ on Jared every time he gets back into bed. The bitter tang of motor oil and sweat is so comforting when Jensen presses his nose against the curve of Jared’s neck and inhales that he drifts off right there, the steady beat of Jared’s pulse under his ear.
On the worst mornings—-the ones that start at too-early o’clock—-Jensen is just coherent enough to wonder if he can throw his pillow and hit the snooze button on his alarm without sending the whole thing careening into a wall, and Jared is off making coffee in the small apartment’s kitchen, singing something ridiculous at the top of his lungs.
Usually Jensen can pick out the tune, recognize it as some classic rock song. There was one time, however, that Jared sang a Copa Cabana parody. Jensen had to cover his face with a pillow to keep from laughing too loud and waking the dogs.
Jensen loves that, the normalcy and domesticity, though he’d never admit it anywhere but inside his head. He loves it when Jared can’t hit a high note but tries anyway, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty all over again. He loves that--right when Jensen is starting to really miss the warmth of another body in bed with him--Jared always comes back into the bedroom with a pot of hot coffee, a few sweet words, and an even sweeter kiss. He just plain loves Jared.
And, hey, maybe mornings aren’t so bad after all.
ETA: You didn't think I could actually go a full day without porning, did you?
Jensen/Jared schmoop, PG ~623 words
inspired by
_3amconfession's prompt, inertiaJensen is the lazy one, he admits it. He hates mornings.
Eric and the crew are constantly busting him about being late to set and having bags under his eyes big enough to hold a twelve pack, but it’s not Jensen’s fault his body demands more than four hours of rest a night. And he doesn’t mind the bad rep, really, as long as he gets to sleep in without anyone bothering him too much.
Jared likes to get up early, and sometimes he does sit ups and weird lunges next to the bed. They make him look like he’s constipated, or rabid, or both: a constipated, rabid raccoon with bad hair. He’s always bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when there are 5 AM calls on-set, disgustingly friendly towards whatever intern is delivering him his coffee and dragging fond laughs out of the sterner make-up ladies. It makes Jensen irrationally angry that Jared bounds all over the place like an overgrown golden retriever asking for pets.
But, for Jensen, some mornings are better than others. The really early calls don’t happen every day, so Jensen learns to cherish what time he does have.
Saturdays are his absolute favorites. He gets to wake up slowly to the feeling of Jared next to him, splayed out like a giant sea-star, and usually it is way past noon when he does. Then, as per their Saturday tradition, Jared will roll out of bed after a good half an hour of heavy petting and make French toast.
Jensen never asks where Jared comes up with the ingredients, since his lack of kitchen skill is almost as legendary as his collection of embarrassing wigs, but breakfast is always delicious. Especially since Jensen gets to stay in bed for it.
Sundays are next on the list and Jensen has an incredibly good reason why: Sunday is when Jared likes to tinker with his truck.
He’s always out of bed by the ass-crack of dawn, telling Jensen to go back to sleep. Jared doesn't know it, but only when he clomps back in three or four hours later, sheds his dirty white shirt, and climbs into bed again can Jensen get any rest. There’s something that smells very much like ‘home’ on Jared every time he gets back into bed. The bitter tang of motor oil and sweat is so comforting when Jensen presses his nose against the curve of Jared’s neck and inhales that he drifts off right there, the steady beat of Jared’s pulse under his ear.
On the worst mornings—-the ones that start at too-early o’clock—-Jensen is just coherent enough to wonder if he can throw his pillow and hit the snooze button on his alarm without sending the whole thing careening into a wall, and Jared is off making coffee in the small apartment’s kitchen, singing something ridiculous at the top of his lungs.
Usually Jensen can pick out the tune, recognize it as some classic rock song. There was one time, however, that Jared sang a Copa Cabana parody. Jensen had to cover his face with a pillow to keep from laughing too loud and waking the dogs.
Jensen loves that, the normalcy and domesticity, though he’d never admit it anywhere but inside his head. He loves it when Jared can’t hit a high note but tries anyway, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty all over again. He loves that--right when Jensen is starting to really miss the warmth of another body in bed with him--Jared always comes back into the bedroom with a pot of hot coffee, a few sweet words, and an even sweeter kiss. He just plain loves Jared.
And, hey, maybe mornings aren’t so bad after all.
ETA: You didn't think I could actually go a full day without porning, did you?
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Probably a little late, but *hugs*
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Where's my awake and making food Jared?! Can I have one?
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On his way, miss. :D
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*hugs and hugs* How ADORABLE!
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"a constipated, rabid raccoon with bad hair." had me DYING! like...on the floor! that image is SO priceless!
And the thought of Jared singing kinda melts me!
And Jensen secretly like how domestic they are...guh...I just...can I move in with them please? *puppy eyes*
Fabulous writing, hon! So glad you're feeling better! *hugs you*
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*skips off to ACTUALLY get some work done*
cause thats SO gonna happen, lol.
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i know exactly what you mean. i was all ready to get my laundry done and finish packing, but then i put on john mayer's DVD and everything went sort of pear-shaped.
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omg...so..the plan was "okay, you can check messages while you eat lunch, but then you need to go finish that drawing, practice your music, and clean the kitchen...lol...lunch is done...and OBVIOUSLY thats not really happening lol.
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So... so... schoompy. Ooohh. *hugs madly*
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*HUGS YOU TIGHT*
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sleepy!jensen sounds an awful lot like i do in the am...*blushes* heh
however, i'm not waking up to jared...so...yea. unfair, but very nice image.
He’s always out of bed by the ass-crack of dawn, telling Jensen to go back to sleep. Jared doesn't know it, but only when he clomps back in three or four hours later, sheds his dirty white shirt, and climbs into bed again can Jensen get any rest. There’s something that smells very much like ‘home’ on Jared every time he gets back into bed. The bitter tang of motor oil and sweat is so comforting when Jensen presses his nose against the curve of Jared’s neck and inhales that he drifts off right there, the steady beat of Jared’s pulse under his ear.
*cuddles you and feeds you cookies* thank you, m'dear
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...I think everyone should have their own personal Jared. We should send in an order for him to be cloned or something.
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yes! i concur! pocket-sized jared, perhaps? that might take away the fun of climbing him though...hmm
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it puts the lotion on its hands or else it gets the hose again...
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dirty minds think alike
..or was that brilliant...?
*ponders* whatever. they both work
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Anyway, years later, glad you liked it! :D