Why I'm Talking to You Timestamp
SO. Funny thing happened tonight. I finally did my taxes (I'm usually not this bad at timing) and found out I owe the state for the first time in my taxpaying career. WTF? So I got haughty and defiant over the matter and then I wrote this.
(it wasn't supposed to get the way it gets in the end, but ya know, I had to do it)
(also, today is my dad's birthday and I totally sent him the ecard that is now this lj-cut, pfft our relationship is *~special~*)
Ad!Exec!Jensen is a little off the ball when filing his taxes
1,300 words; R for language
“I don’t know whether to be amused or disappointed in you.”
Jensen grumbles but doesn’t actually say anything. He just stays huddled over his laptop and keeps clicking forward, then back, then forward-forward.
Jared leans back in bed, lacing fingers behind his head, crossing his ankles, and watching. There’s a tiny smile on his face, but a few wrinkles between his eyes. “I think maybe I’m disappointed.”
“Yeah?” he asks, distracted, randomly punching numbers and then clicking forward-forward-forward.
“Of all the people I know, you’re the most anal.” Jensen snorts and Jared does, too, but then he continues. “That’s the anal I’d like to get behind.”
Slowly, Jensen turns and stares at Jared, one eyebrow up as his finger taps at the top of the mouse.
Jared smirks then scratches at his ear. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from something? Would you rather be in bed with your hot boyfriend?”
Shaking his head, Jensen goes back to the computer. There are many, many more clicks, all while he ignores Jared’s rambling.
“I mean, you spend a good ten minutes starching and ironing a shirt. You fold your socks. Your belts are hanging in alphabetical order.”
“They are not!” Jensen argues without taking his attention from the computer.
Jared laughs. “Your ties are ordered by color.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when you had to find the blue Armani.”
Shaking his head with a playful sigh, Jared says, “God, you’re such a bitch with your clothes.”
Jensen bites back a retort and marches to the kitchen and right back to the bedroom to settle at his desk. With loud rattles of the desk drawers, he retrieves his checkbook and smacks it onto the surface.
Jared laughs, “You have to pay? How much?”
“Two.”
“Hundred?” he asks as he shifts up in bed. Then he frowns. “Two thousand?”
“Dollars. Two dollars,” Jensen grumbles.
Jared thinks on it, eyes rolling back and forth with the memory. “Didn’t you get like a thousand or two back last year or something? I thought you claim less to get more back.”
“I do,” he grits out while purposefully digging the pen into the check and then the envelope with a flourish.
“Why don’t you e-file? It’s gonna be a pain to wait on them cashing a check.”
“The state … the fucking state of Massachusetts … In all its infinite glory, has told me year after year that since they owe less than five dollars, they won’t pay me. Now that I owe, they’re insisting I send it out.” He tsks as he shoves his check and forms into the envelope and licks it closed. To add on to his insult, he tapes the entire thing shut. “Cash that, assholes.”
“Jen.”
Jensen snaps back, “You know how many times they won’t give me money back? I think, comprehensively, they owe me close to a hundred dollars.” He spins in the chair to make a point, tipping his head this way and that, motioning his hands and all. “Now, I’m not asking for the whole thing back. But you’d think they’d honor me a credit for two fucking dollars. God,” he huffs and goes back to the papers on his desk.
“Jensen.”
He again snaps, “What?” But when Jared doesn’t respond, he looks up, scrunching his nose to push his glasses up his nose. “What?” he asks again.
“It’s April 13.”
With a sarcastic smile, Jensen nods. “I’m well aware.”
“And you’re writing a check to the IRS at eleven o’clock at night.”
Jensen moves over towards the bed and looks down with confusion, envelope tight in his hand. “Yeah, and?”
“You’re totally ruining the night.”
“Blame the IRS,” he smirks before dipping down for a quick kiss.
When Jensen returns, sliding into bed and flipping off the bedside lamp, Jared sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I’m totally blaming you cashing in your stocks.”
“We’re not discussing this,” he rattles off with a practiced tone, and rolls to his side, pulling the blankets over his shoulder.
Jared pushes his head into the pillows a few times in aggravation. “I don’t know why you had to cash them out at the end of the year. You could’ve just let it be and we didn’t have to go big on Christmas.”
“I didn’t … It wasn’t Christmas.”
“Jen, seriously. You shouldn’t’ve cashed them out. Especially with all the taxes and the penalties. I don’t know why you can’t discuss these kinds of things with me. I mean, we’re here, and together. I can pay shit, too.”
Without a word, Jensen slides to the nightstand and yanks the drawer open. He’s ravaging through the space and then pushing a box at Jared’s chest, and huffs, “There. Talk about that.”
Jared sits up, switching his bedside lamp on, and stares down on the ornate jewelry box that is now resting in his lap. “Are you … Jen, you fucking with me?” His hands are jittery and fight with opening the box, all while rambling with a mixture of amusement and frustration. “Are you seriously giving me this on Tax Day and being an asshole about it?”
Jensen snorts when he hears the box creak open and Jared’s quiet little oh come out on a breath. “My sister’s getting married.”
“Oh,” he sounds out louder, plucking cuff links from the box and eyeing the shine and smooth corners.
Jensen slowly turns to his back and looks towards Jared but never at him, never connects with his eyes. “Mac’s getting married in the summer and my parents gave her some money. I wanted to give her more, so I did. I cashed out the stocks to help my sister have her day.”
“And these?” Jared asks quietly.
“Something to make you stop asking about the stocks? To forget about them?”
He purses his mouth and juts it in different directions. It’s his thoughtful look and Jensen can’t help but stare at him now, waiting for the response to come through. “I could wear them to her wedding. Is that too weird? It might be too weird. Jen, I thought this was something else,” he admits nervously, turning towards him.
“Yeah, I got that,” he mumbles and finally watches Jared’s eyes; they’re watching him right back. “My little sister’s getting married. It’s her year. I can’t take the spotlight from her.”
Jared bites into his lip and quietly says with a slight question to his tone, “But you wanna.”
Jensen’s mouth twitches. “I said I did.”
His head tips slightly and his voice deepens, even while he’s being a bit insistent. “That was a while ago. It’s been a while now.”
He palms Jared’s jaw while his fingers rub the edge of his ear. “I know. But let the family get through Mac’s wedding.”
“If I propose after the cake, do you think that’d be too soon?”
Jensen laughs, full-on giggling with the change in mood, and pushes himself into Jared’s space. His forehead rests at Jared’s chest and then he breathes in deep, still smiling. “Try it, I dare you.”
“She’ll kill me,” he replies, pulling his arms around Jensen. “She’ll have me dragged out back and gutted alive.”
With a smile, Jensen kisses him and then says at his mouth, “If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t’ve had you move in. You wouldn’t still be here.”
“I know,” Jared nods, suddenly looking unsure. Even as he jokes, “But a lady can only wait so long.”
He chuckles, “Ask me at the wedding. I might even say yes.”
“You better. And then you better put out.” Jared slides closer, one arm curled under his pillow and the other over Jensen’s waist. It’s a comfortable position they’ve perfected over the last few years, and he can tell Jensen’s fine and comfortable by how quickly he settles into the embrace and his breath softens. At his hair, Jared quietly asks, “Would you marry me?”
Jensen murmurs, “I would.” They hug tighter and Jared breathes deep in relief. In the best way Jensen knows, the way Jared’s taught him in their time together, he eases the moment with a flat, “Better buy me a nice ring.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
(it wasn't supposed to get the way it gets in the end, but ya know, I had to do it)
(also, today is my dad's birthday and I totally sent him the ecard that is now this lj-cut, pfft our relationship is *~special~*)
Ad!Exec!Jensen is a little off the ball when filing his taxes
1,300 words; R for language
“I don’t know whether to be amused or disappointed in you.”
Jensen grumbles but doesn’t actually say anything. He just stays huddled over his laptop and keeps clicking forward, then back, then forward-forward.
Jared leans back in bed, lacing fingers behind his head, crossing his ankles, and watching. There’s a tiny smile on his face, but a few wrinkles between his eyes. “I think maybe I’m disappointed.”
“Yeah?” he asks, distracted, randomly punching numbers and then clicking forward-forward-forward.
“Of all the people I know, you’re the most anal.” Jensen snorts and Jared does, too, but then he continues. “That’s the anal I’d like to get behind.”
Slowly, Jensen turns and stares at Jared, one eyebrow up as his finger taps at the top of the mouse.
Jared smirks then scratches at his ear. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from something? Would you rather be in bed with your hot boyfriend?”
Shaking his head, Jensen goes back to the computer. There are many, many more clicks, all while he ignores Jared’s rambling.
“I mean, you spend a good ten minutes starching and ironing a shirt. You fold your socks. Your belts are hanging in alphabetical order.”
“They are not!” Jensen argues without taking his attention from the computer.
Jared laughs. “Your ties are ordered by color.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when you had to find the blue Armani.”
Shaking his head with a playful sigh, Jared says, “God, you’re such a bitch with your clothes.”
Jensen bites back a retort and marches to the kitchen and right back to the bedroom to settle at his desk. With loud rattles of the desk drawers, he retrieves his checkbook and smacks it onto the surface.
Jared laughs, “You have to pay? How much?”
“Two.”
“Hundred?” he asks as he shifts up in bed. Then he frowns. “Two thousand?”
“Dollars. Two dollars,” Jensen grumbles.
Jared thinks on it, eyes rolling back and forth with the memory. “Didn’t you get like a thousand or two back last year or something? I thought you claim less to get more back.”
“I do,” he grits out while purposefully digging the pen into the check and then the envelope with a flourish.
“Why don’t you e-file? It’s gonna be a pain to wait on them cashing a check.”
“The state … the fucking state of Massachusetts … In all its infinite glory, has told me year after year that since they owe less than five dollars, they won’t pay me. Now that I owe, they’re insisting I send it out.” He tsks as he shoves his check and forms into the envelope and licks it closed. To add on to his insult, he tapes the entire thing shut. “Cash that, assholes.”
“Jen.”
Jensen snaps back, “You know how many times they won’t give me money back? I think, comprehensively, they owe me close to a hundred dollars.” He spins in the chair to make a point, tipping his head this way and that, motioning his hands and all. “Now, I’m not asking for the whole thing back. But you’d think they’d honor me a credit for two fucking dollars. God,” he huffs and goes back to the papers on his desk.
“Jensen.”
He again snaps, “What?” But when Jared doesn’t respond, he looks up, scrunching his nose to push his glasses up his nose. “What?” he asks again.
“It’s April 13.”
With a sarcastic smile, Jensen nods. “I’m well aware.”
“And you’re writing a check to the IRS at eleven o’clock at night.”
Jensen moves over towards the bed and looks down with confusion, envelope tight in his hand. “Yeah, and?”
“You’re totally ruining the night.”
“Blame the IRS,” he smirks before dipping down for a quick kiss.
When Jensen returns, sliding into bed and flipping off the bedside lamp, Jared sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I’m totally blaming you cashing in your stocks.”
“We’re not discussing this,” he rattles off with a practiced tone, and rolls to his side, pulling the blankets over his shoulder.
Jared pushes his head into the pillows a few times in aggravation. “I don’t know why you had to cash them out at the end of the year. You could’ve just let it be and we didn’t have to go big on Christmas.”
“I didn’t … It wasn’t Christmas.”
“Jen, seriously. You shouldn’t’ve cashed them out. Especially with all the taxes and the penalties. I don’t know why you can’t discuss these kinds of things with me. I mean, we’re here, and together. I can pay shit, too.”
Without a word, Jensen slides to the nightstand and yanks the drawer open. He’s ravaging through the space and then pushing a box at Jared’s chest, and huffs, “There. Talk about that.”
Jared sits up, switching his bedside lamp on, and stares down on the ornate jewelry box that is now resting in his lap. “Are you … Jen, you fucking with me?” His hands are jittery and fight with opening the box, all while rambling with a mixture of amusement and frustration. “Are you seriously giving me this on Tax Day and being an asshole about it?”
Jensen snorts when he hears the box creak open and Jared’s quiet little oh come out on a breath. “My sister’s getting married.”
“Oh,” he sounds out louder, plucking cuff links from the box and eyeing the shine and smooth corners.
Jensen slowly turns to his back and looks towards Jared but never at him, never connects with his eyes. “Mac’s getting married in the summer and my parents gave her some money. I wanted to give her more, so I did. I cashed out the stocks to help my sister have her day.”
“And these?” Jared asks quietly.
“Something to make you stop asking about the stocks? To forget about them?”
He purses his mouth and juts it in different directions. It’s his thoughtful look and Jensen can’t help but stare at him now, waiting for the response to come through. “I could wear them to her wedding. Is that too weird? It might be too weird. Jen, I thought this was something else,” he admits nervously, turning towards him.
“Yeah, I got that,” he mumbles and finally watches Jared’s eyes; they’re watching him right back. “My little sister’s getting married. It’s her year. I can’t take the spotlight from her.”
Jared bites into his lip and quietly says with a slight question to his tone, “But you wanna.”
Jensen’s mouth twitches. “I said I did.”
His head tips slightly and his voice deepens, even while he’s being a bit insistent. “That was a while ago. It’s been a while now.”
He palms Jared’s jaw while his fingers rub the edge of his ear. “I know. But let the family get through Mac’s wedding.”
“If I propose after the cake, do you think that’d be too soon?”
Jensen laughs, full-on giggling with the change in mood, and pushes himself into Jared’s space. His forehead rests at Jared’s chest and then he breathes in deep, still smiling. “Try it, I dare you.”
“She’ll kill me,” he replies, pulling his arms around Jensen. “She’ll have me dragged out back and gutted alive.”
With a smile, Jensen kisses him and then says at his mouth, “If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t’ve had you move in. You wouldn’t still be here.”
“I know,” Jared nods, suddenly looking unsure. Even as he jokes, “But a lady can only wait so long.”
He chuckles, “Ask me at the wedding. I might even say yes.”
“You better. And then you better put out.” Jared slides closer, one arm curled under his pillow and the other over Jensen’s waist. It’s a comfortable position they’ve perfected over the last few years, and he can tell Jensen’s fine and comfortable by how quickly he settles into the embrace and his breath softens. At his hair, Jared quietly asks, “Would you marry me?”
Jensen murmurs, “I would.” They hug tighter and Jared breathes deep in relief. In the best way Jensen knows, the way Jared’s taught him in their time together, he eases the moment with a flat, “Better buy me a nice ring.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”