Butter Me Up and Photo Ninja (CW RPS, J2)

[cleflink]

Two comment fic reposts.

Title: Butter Me Up
Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: G
Warnings: not really
Word count: 700
A/N: Written for the prompt 'making popcorn without a microwave' for the domesticity meme on comment_away. Originally posted here

Summary: Jared's totally got this popcorn-making thing covered. Jensen's totally not convinced

"This is a terrible idea."

Jared scoffed from somewhere inside the cupboard. "No, it's an awesome idea. All my ideas are awesome."

"No they're not," said Jensen, from his position safely across the room. "Usually they're the opposite of awesome."

"You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first. Aha!" Jared's upper half emerged from the cupboard, an excessively large skillet clutched triumphantly in one hand. He turned a grin in Jensen's direction. "Come on, Jensen! Homemade popcorn! You have to admit that that's awesome."

"I admit nothing." Jensen watched as Jared set the pan on the burner and flicked on the heat, trying to decide whether or not it was worth his sanity to stand here and watch this. "Do you have any idea how to make popcorn without a microwave?"

"Hmm?" Jared said, most of his attention on the vegetable oil he was pouring into the pan. "Oh sure. My mama used to make popcorn like this all the time when we were kids."

"And she let you help?" Jensen asked hopefully.

"Hell no. But I watched a couple times."

"I'm so reassured."

Jared ignored the sarcasm dripping off Jensen's words and ducked back into the cupboard. "Just you wait," he said, pulling what turned out to be a plastic container full of popcorn kernels out of the cupboard. Jensen didn't even know why they had that. "This is going to be the best popcorn you've ever had."

Jensen sighed. "Seriously Jared, we have microwave popcorn."

Jared blinked, like this idea had never occurred to him. "But microwave popcorn has no soul!"

"I don't want to eat anything with a soul," Jensen pointed out.

"Well clearly that's your problem. Not enough souls in your diet." The popcorn kernels clattered into the pan and Jared winked at him. "They taste great with salt."

"Wonderful," Jensen deadpanned. "I've always wanted to be a cannibal. What are you doing now?"

Jared's head popped up over the top of the fridge door. "Getting the butter," he answered, as though the answer was obvious. Jensen figured that, in Jaredland, it probably was. "Want to make sure it's melted by the time the popcorn's done."

"And when will that be?" Jensen asked, eyeing the pan.

Jared shrugged. "Who knows? I'm sure we'll find out."

Jensen's eyes rolled. "You're a culinary wizard, Jay."

"And you're a remarkably unhelpful lovely assistant. Are you going to just stand there?"

"Probably," Jensen admitted, making sure he was wearing his biggest shit-eating grin when Jared kicked the fridge door shut and made a face at him, butter in hand. "You going to do anything about it?"

"I," Jared said. "Am going to eat all this yummy popcorn. By myself. And laugh at you."

"At the same time?"

"Yes."

Jensen shrugged. "Then you get to clean up the-"

POP!

Jensen and Jared both jumped at the sound, louder than when it happened in the microwave.

"Is it-?" Jensen asked, drawing cautiously closer.

"I don't know," Jared answered, peering into the pan. "I don't see any popped ones."

POP! POP!

Jensen caught sight of something white and fluffy tumbling to the floor a good two feet away from the stove and abruptly had a very bad feeling about this. "Do you think you need a lid on-"

The pan chose that moment to erupt with popping and Jared yelped and stumbled back as a veritable swarm of popcorn exploded at his face. He hit the floor with a thud, hands coming up to cover his head against the barrage of projectile popcorn.

Being the awesome boyfriend that he was, Jensen immediately burst out laughing.

He was still laughing by the time the pan was empty, popcorn strewn all over the kitchen and Jared huddled in front of the stove looking like he'd just lost a fight at the movie theatre.

"Oops?" tried Jared, already grinning. Jensen shook his head.

"You're cleaning this up," he said, glad the dogs were still playing outside. "By yourself."

"Do I at least get a kiss for the effort?" Jared asked.

"You promise to make the popcorn in the microwave next time and you can have all the kisses you want."

Jared laughed. "Fair enough."

~fin


Title: Photo Ninja
Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: G
Warnings: not really
Word count: 700
A/N: Written for the prompt 'Jared is always taking pictures of the dog to put up on the fridge/around the house...except when he's taking pictures of Jensen' for the domesticity meme on comment_away. Originally posted here

Summary: Jared's making the world a better place, one sneakily taken photo at a time

So every once in a while Jared likes to take pictures of his dogs.

Well, maybe more than once in a while. More like kind of often. If you define kind of often as whenever he has the chance. Which is pretty much all the time. He changes the photos in his trailer at least once a week, the ones on the fridge at home nearly as often.

Jared has to admit that it's actually kind of excessive sometimes. Not out loud, of course, because that would take half the fun out of it, but yeah. It could be embarrassing if he wasn't so prone do doing embarrassing things just for the hell of it anyway.

Jensen says it's proof that Jared's going to be one of those obnoxious parents who has four million pictures of his kids all over the damn house and inflicts them on other people at every opportunity. Jared usually hits him for that, ignoring the flutter in his gut at the idea of him and parent and Jensen in the same sentence.

But really, Jared can't help it if Sadie and Harley are the cutest dogs on the planet. It would be doing a disservice to the world if he didn't take pictures of them doing cute things, like eating Jensen's shoes, or sleeping in the sun, or standing around being adorable. Now this sort of brilliant counterargument usually just makes Jensen roll his eyes and offer him a pat on the head and a heavily ironic 'yes dear', but at least he lets Jared take pictures in peace.

Which suits Jared pretty well actually, because his dogs aren't the only things he likes to take an embarrassing number of pictures of.

"We've gotta go to the store this week Jay," Jensen's saying, sprawling in a lawn chair with a beer in one hand. His sunglasses are resting low on his nose, casting shadows on his cheeks, and the sun is making the tips of his hair shine gold.

Jared's camera clicks. "Why?" he asks. Harley and Sadie are busy terrorizing a tennis ball in the garden and Jared makes sure to keep them in the background when he adjusts his camera so that Jensen won't ask what he's taking pictures of.

"Because there's nothing in the fridge." Jensen tips back his bottle, throat working in a terribly distracting fashion and the curve of his bicep on sharp display. Jared's finger clicks automatically. "You might not have noticed, but we've already had steak three times this week."

"We're from Texas," Jared points out, zooming in on the curve of Jensen's neck. "We're supposed to eat steak."

"It's Tuesday."

"So?" Jared asks, grinning when Jensen gives him the finger in response. "Oh fine," he says, as though this is a great hardship. "We'll go to the grocery store tomorrow. Slave driver."

"You know it, bitch." Jensen's grin flashes, bright and smugly self-satisfied, and Jared can hardly take the pictures fast enough. He sometimes thinks he could take pictures for the rest of forever and never capture everything he loves about watching Jensen Ackles smile.

Jensen's head twists then, giving Jared a remarkably attractive view of the way his shirt stretches over his shoulders. "You and those dogs man," Jensen says, teasing and fond. "One day you're gonna get sick of taking pictures of 'em."

Jared's camera clicks again. Really, it wouldn't be fair to deprive the world of more pictures of Jensen's back. "No, I really don't think so."

~fin

'Photo Ninja' Timestamp: The Hazards of Twitter Pics