12 Days of a J2 Christmas: Day 6
Master Post and Notes
Sometimes, Jensen was rather proud of himself for buying Jared a Nikon Coolpix camera for his birthday. Its autofocus capabilities and low-level flash were amazing when Jared grabbed as many early-morning-just-woke-up, middle-of-the-day-lounging-on-the-sofa, or sleepy-tucked-under-the-cover photos as possible. Jensen had seen the stacked libraries on the computer, saw all the emails Jared tossed between family members to show off Sadie and Harley’s latest lazy afternoon, home improvements they successfully completed themselves, or when Jensen gave a particularly ridiculously-tired face. And most popularly, the faces-smooshed-together-beyond-recognition portrait Jared always forced on him and littered the length and width of the double-door fridge.
It did get annoying at times, Jared not knowing when to not snap a photo. Or just doing it too often, which he seemed to be doing lately. Jensen continually shoved his palm into the lens when he was busy doing … anything that wasn’t photo-worthy. He’d turn his head. He’d move out of the frame. He’d put something in front of his face. And every time Jared whined and took five more pictures to make up for it.
Jared plopped down in bed, scooting across the mattress and keeping his back down flat. He pressed against Jensen, knocking his head to Jensen’s then raised his hand, camera poised and ready, and snapped a few pictures in rapid succession. Jensen let it happen and even looked at the camera, but as evidenced by the viewfinder, he had given his best displeased look -flat eyes and mouth that said he was not amused in that moment. Jared frowned, looking at him. “Just one good one?”
“You’ve taken twenty today.”
His lip dropped into the perfect puppy pout. “Just one?”
“Tomorrow,” Jensen offered as he moved within inches of Jared’s face.
“I wanna document this. It’s our first Christmas.”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, even closer.
“Okay,” Jared replied quietly and with disappointment.
Jensen kissed him. Then heard the distinct snap of the camera.
In the morning, Jared took it upon himself to document all of Jensen’s movements while trying to position just over Jensen’s shoulder, right in front of him, or tucked in tight to his side. He forced Jensen into pictures in front of the tree, out in the yard with the far reach of snow behind them, with the dogs by the fireplace. Jensen was far from amused by it, but he let it happen, went on with his day with an even smile.
When they met with neighbors for a holiday party, Jared continued snapping, going wild with the flash and almost daring himself to get a snapshot of every possible combination of friends at the party. Jensen went on drinking, trying his best to ignore any bit of Jared’s snaphappy shenanigans.
He took in Irish coffee, delighted by the warmth spreading from the soothing liquor and barely caring when Jared forced the camera onto others to grab photos of them together. He smiled sweetly and went loose, easy, with Jared at his side. Because he figured there was no point in fighting it anymore, didn’t want to be the Scrooge of the party.
In bed, Jared’s camera made another appearance, mostly of them kissing, Jensen barely paying attention because he had Jared’s lips and his breath, and that was enough for him. Come morning, of course, he complained when Jared tried to repeat the process, when he documented Jensen shoveling the front walk, laying out salt, swiping snow off the car. When Jensen added fresh wreaths to the front porch, Jared was there snapping, and even more when he strung icicle lights to the gutter.
“You’re getting ridiculous,” Jensen said from the top of the ladder.
“This is very serious stuff, man. You’re doing manly work.”
He shook his head, hid a smile, and went back to the gutter clips and light strand.
“’Sides, I’m looking for the perfect shot for the cards.”
“I already got cards. They’re on the table.”
Jared laughed, mocked, “Those ones with the dogs and the fake antlers? C’mon. We have to do something special.”
Jensen repositioned his feet on the rung, leaned against the side of the house and looked down with confusion. “Thought you’d like the dogs.”
He quirked his mouth. “I do. I sent those exact cards the first Christmas with them.”
Jensen chuckled and went back to his work. “I don’t know if it’s good that I picked them so perfectly.”
“It’s awesome, Jen,” Jared smiled. It reached the far edges of his face, dimples deep and eyes shining.
He smiled back but tried to not look for too long before he felt all warm and mushy at the moment. Instead, he said, “You’re gonna make me sign cards with you, aren’t you?”
“Nah, you’re off the hook. Gonna do ‘em on the computer.”
“With what?”
“This?” Jared smirked, waving the camera.
Jensen groaned in that moment, worried of all the random photos Jensen had been snapping over the last however many months. But then he caught the stack of cards, sealed and addressed, and stamped and ready to be sent. Jensen’s curiosity crept up on him and he nudged the very corner of an envelope, tucked his finger under, shimmied it slowly to release the seal. When he pulled the card out, he stared, unable to process his exact feelings.
But the second he heard Jared, he shoved it back in, used bits of tape to reseal it and let it lie - just as he did with his feelings.
Until that night when he crept into bed, shimmied himself in close with warm, comforting hands and a soft smile. He kissed Jared sweetly then murmured, “I saw the cards.”
“Didn’t trust me, did you?”
Jensen kissed into Jared’s smile. “You did good.”
Jared’s mouth curved so tightly, beaming when their mouths pressed in tight. He reached around and then came up with the camera once again, snapping away, but Jensen didn’t care. He just smiled right back.
Day 7
