"What part of 'get the fuck out of my kitchen' do you not understand, Jared?"
"But…" Jared lingered awkwardly in the doorway, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt to keep them out of trouble.
Jensen shot him an unamused look over the chaotic shambles of the kitchen counter. There were dirty pans everywhere, boxes of ingredients shoved into the corner and a blob of butter smeared alongside the sink. A cutting board piled high with diced vegetables sat waiting next to a pot on the stove and Jared's stomach grumbled faintly at the smell of cooking beef. Jensen's apron was liberally dusted with corn meal, as was the countertop, his shirt sleeves and, judging from the extent of the mess, probably the floor. He had both hands buried in a bowl of bread dough and was kneading at it with a lack of finesse that made Jared want to cringe.
"Stop it," Jensen said, and Jared belatedly realized that he had started forward again, hands reaching automatically for the stove. "For the last time, I am making you dinner and you are not allowed to help."
"Can't I just-"
"No." Jensen huffed out a sigh. "Jared, I am perfectly capable of making chili. And corn bread," he added, when Jared opened his mouth to protest. "Honest. I've done it a hundred times. This is me doing something for you."
"But I want to help," Jared said, aware that he was dangerously close to pouting.
"And I want to do this myself. Tough luck." Jensen's expression softened. "You can help next time, okay?"
Jared nodded reluctantly. "Okay," he said, then added, "But I still brought dessert."
"Good," Jensen grinned. He winked at Jared. "Figured you might have a heart attack if I tried to feed you the store bought stuff, but I can't bake worth a damn. So I'm glad you're on top of things."
Jared considered his options for about half a second, then darted into the kitchen and shut Jensen up with a kiss before he could start bitching about it. He tasted like tomato and spices and Jensen, which was just perfect.
After a moment, Jensen planted a hand on Jared's chest and pushed him away, leaving a powdery handprint behind. "Enough of that," he said with a grin. "I have cooking to do."
"Okay." Jared turned to go back into the living room, then paused. "You're sure you don't…?"
Jensen laughed. It was a fantastic sound. "I'm sure. Now go away."
"Worth a shot," Jared shrugged, then obediently headed back into the living room to wait for Jensen's culinary masterpiece to be completed. He wondered what the cooking channel was showing right now.
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"What part of 'get the fuck out of my kitchen' do you not understand, Jared?"
"But…" Jared lingered awkwardly in the doorway, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt to keep them out of trouble.
Jensen shot him an unamused look over the chaotic shambles of the kitchen counter. There were dirty pans everywhere, boxes of ingredients shoved into the corner and a blob of butter smeared alongside the sink. A cutting board piled high with diced vegetables sat waiting next to a pot on the stove and Jared's stomach grumbled faintly at the smell of cooking beef. Jensen's apron was liberally dusted with corn meal, as was the countertop, his shirt sleeves and, judging from the extent of the mess, probably the floor. He had both hands buried in a bowl of bread dough and was kneading at it with a lack of finesse that made Jared want to cringe.
"Stop it," Jensen said, and Jared belatedly realized that he had started forward again, hands reaching automatically for the stove. "For the last time, I am making you dinner and you are not allowed to help."
"Can't I just-"
"No." Jensen huffed out a sigh. "Jared, I am perfectly capable of making chili. And corn bread," he added, when Jared opened his mouth to protest. "Honest. I've done it a hundred times. This is me doing something for you."
"But I want to help," Jared said, aware that he was dangerously close to pouting.
"And I want to do this myself. Tough luck." Jensen's expression softened. "You can help next time, okay?"
Jared nodded reluctantly. "Okay," he said, then added, "But I still brought dessert."
"Good," Jensen grinned. He winked at Jared. "Figured you might have a heart attack if I tried to feed you the store bought stuff, but I can't bake worth a damn. So I'm glad you're on top of things."
Jared considered his options for about half a second, then darted into the kitchen and shut Jensen up with a kiss before he could start bitching about it. He tasted like tomato and spices and Jensen, which was just perfect.
After a moment, Jensen planted a hand on Jared's chest and pushed him away, leaving a powdery handprint behind. "Enough of that," he said with a grin. "I have cooking to do."
"Okay." Jared turned to go back into the living room, then paused. "You're sure you don't…?"
Jensen laughed. It was a fantastic sound. "I'm sure. Now go away."
"Worth a shot," Jared shrugged, then obediently headed back into the living room to wait for Jensen's culinary masterpiece to be completed. He wondered what the cooking channel was showing right now.