Three Bean Dip
Title: Three Bean Dip (an amuse bouche from Garlic and Butter
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language
Warning: Since this is future!fic for Garlic and Butter I still recommend not reading on an empty stomach.
Disclaimer: Ever so fictional.
Author's Note: Written for egotists's fandom-free-for-all request.
Summary: Jared discovers Jensen has never watched a football game. He plans to correct that mistake as soon as possible. That is if he doesn't burn down the kitchen first.
Jared looked aghast as Jensen finished his coffee. “What do you mean you never watched a game?”
Jensen grinned. “What? I don't like football so I never thought to waste time sitting through a game.”
“Dude, you’re from Texas!”
Jensen leaned across the table and cupped Jared’s face with his hands. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jared, since you’re from San Antonio and all, but just because someone was born in the Great Longhorn State doesn’t automatically make them a fan of the game.”
“But … seriously?”
“Seriously,” Jensen answered and dropped a kiss on Jared’s lips before sitting back into his chair. “Don’t worry, my masculinity hasn’t taken a hit because I watch the news instead of the Super Bowl.”
“But they’ve got cool commercials,” Jared argued. “And the halftime shows are awesome!”
“Youtube,” Jensen quipped.
“You suck.”
“And you’re just digging yourself deeper,” Jensen said, grinning. “Why are you so obsessed with me watching football?”
“It’s not just watching,” Jared explained. “It’s about the experience.”
“I actually heard the quote marks.” Jensen looked at Jared with wide eyes. “So, what does this ‘experience’ detail?”
“Food! Good food!”
Jensen laughed. “Of course. Why did I even bother to ask?”
Jared gently thwacked him on the back of his head. “It’s not funny. Don’t you know how married food is to football?”
“Since I never watched a single game, I can honestly say I have no idea.”
“It’s … sanctified: holy, even.”
Jensen’s wide-eyed look grew deeper. “Holy shit, you’re deadly serious about this.”
“That’s it.” Jared reached for the notepad next to the phone. “We’re going to have a Monday Night Football extravaganza.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Jared shook his head. “Nope, leave it to me. You just sit back and enjoy.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I can get wine from Devon's cellar?”
Jared smiled. “Thanks, but we’re good. Don’t worry about anything. This is going to be my treat.”
Jensen paused for a moment then carefully said, “Jared, um … could we not have calf liver?”
Jared sighed. “I haven’t forgotten the emergency room visit. Especially since it was me who dialed 911.”
“Thanks.” Jensen gave another kiss. “I’ll be back in twenty.”
Jared huffed but only after Jensen was out of earshot. To date he still had no idea what brought on the asthma attack.
“Food poisoning,” the emergency room doctor had said.
Those two words were to a chef what silver was to werewolves, and Jared couldn’t - wouldn’t - believe he had poisoned Jensen, even accidentally. After Jensen stabilized, Jared visited the farmers responsible for the organ meat and questioned them quite thoroughly, including the feed they gave to the animals. The answers he'd received didn't reveal anything useful, and after two weeks of investigation, Jared still had no idea the cause of Jensen's collapse. As far as Jensen was concerned it was a freak attack, and promptly dismissed his ordeal.
Of course, Jensen wasn’t the one watching his lover's complexion turn leaden gray as he hiccupped what air was left in his lungs.
Jared shook the image out of his head. He didn’t want to remember that afternoon. Or the verbal war he started with the station nurse when she refused to tell him about Jensen’s condition since he was neither a family member nor legally married to the patient.
Jared took deep breaths to calm himself. Fuck that fuckery.
He started scribbling down all the foods he’d actually seen Jensen eat, pausing only for a moment when he heard Jensen fumble in the hall with his cross-country skis before going outside. He insisted on patrolling the property right before turning in. Jared thought this behavior both cute and hot (to be honest) but didn’t see the need for it until he read in the local papers about the vandalism plaguing the farms and homes surrounding his.
Bad economy make good people do bad things, Jensen had said. He then drove to Ethan’s Gun Shop to put in a special order, and a week later picked up a Garand to take with him during his nightly patrols. Jared was shocked to find Jensen had the special training necessary in order to purchase the rifle. He never asked the reason for Jensen’s knowledge, but was grateful for it. Having any kind of weaponry, especially one with such specific regard to killing made him nervous in spite of being a chef. He had dressed small game and routinely cleaned fish, but it took a completely foreign mentality to look down the scope and see a human being as a viable target.
Jared shoved his focus back onto the list. By the time him was finished, it had grown to three pages with notes jotted all around the margins, and this was without wine. Jared knew he was a talented chef, but he had no delusions whatsoever about transforming Jensen’s blasé attitude towards the sport into an obsession like his. So, he had created a ‘game menu’ that would last through the first half. He calculated ninety minutes plus fifteen if by some goddamn miracle the Dallas Cowboys actually managed to do something spectacular.
Jared heard Jensen approach the kitchen and ripped out the pages, hiding them under a stack of receipts on the table.
“So, everything five-by-five, captain?” Jared asked as Jensen entered the kitchen, dusting off a fine cover of snow on his shoulders and his hat.
“Yeah, everything looks good. The heater in the greenhouse is acting up again. I'm going to have to take a look at it tomorrow.”
When Jared didn’t answer Jensen looked up and caught his boyfriend’s lascivious gaze. He grinned and shook his head. “You really do have a thing for cowboy hats, don’t you?”
“No, I have a thing for the man wearing it,” Jared answered. “Just follow me and I’ll warm you up in no time.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jared looked at the dessert currently on fire with extreme annoyance. The flames were pretty blue, which was nice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t suppose to burning. At least not until he served the goddamn thing.
With a tired sigh he slammed the lid closed on the saucepan and waited for two full minutes before lifting the lid right under a running faucet.
At least it smells right, Jared sourly noted. He examined the goopy brown mess before taking a cautious taste of what was suppose to be his version of crepe flambé. As the cream melted on his tongue Jared took small comfort in the fact that he concocted the right amount of coconut and rum mixture.
Jared caught something flying by the kitchen window. Oh, please God, don’t let that be some part of the roof!
The picturesque dusting of snow had turned into a blizzard overnight, isolating the farms all along Berth River. Jared quickly realized there was no way he could open Devon, so he called his employees to tell them they wouldn’t need to come in for the next two days since the blizzard was going nowhere until Wednesday, at the earliest.
Mercifully, the Dallas game was being held in sunny Florida, where the only threat was a level four hurricane that might sweep both the Cowboys and the Dolphins out into sea. And wouldn't that just be a shame?
Seriously.
Something slammed against the west wall with such force Jared decided to look for the cause.
That just sucks, Jared mourned as he saw broken bits of what used to be a pricey modern chaise lounge he’d purchased for Jensen. He thought the seven hundred dollars was a good investment since he could watch his boyfriend sunbathe in various bits of clothing, most of which were appreciably small in yardage.
Focusing back to the soggy remains of the dessert, Jared mentally calculated what he had left. Of course, there was foodstuff in Devon, so he could make anything he damned well pleased, but Jensen had already tasted all the restaurant's desserts and he wanted to make something new. Something … unpredictable.
A change in color caught Jared's eye, and he watched as Jensen’s dark figure materialize almost magically from the blizzard. Jared quickly checked on the mulled cider and was pleased to note at least it wasn’t up in flames. He poured a generous amount into a large mug and waited for Jensen to come into the kitchen.
Jensen closed the door with a slam and shook his head. “Holy Jesus! For couple of minutes I had no idea where the hell I was!”
Jared realized Jensen was genuinely frightened, and little wonder. He could've easily gotten turned around in the storm and wandered into the woods bordering on his property. “Don’t go out until the winds die down.”
“I don’t plan to,” Jensen agreed readily. “I got the furnace working again.”
“So, the seedlings are safe?” Jared asked. The greenhouse may be state-of-the-art but even it couldn’t protect its contents should the heater suddenly stop working.
“Yeah, there was a bend in the feeder,” Jensen answered. “I think we’re going to have to replace it with a shorter one as soon as we can.”
“This is turning into some storm,” Jared said as he watched the whiteout blanket all the windows.
“I never understood why people think Mother Nature is this cozy, pretty woman with the maternal imprint of a saint when the truth is she’s a sadistic bitch who’ll bite off your sacs the first chance she gets.”
“I’m guessing your opinion is slightly shaded by the fact that you’ve been hunting coyotes non-stop for a year now.”
Jensen blushed. “Maybe. But those fuckers got three of the spring lambs!”
Jared flinched as he remembered what was left of the poor creatures after the coyotes had done their work. “Yeah, I remember the bloodbath.”
“Sorry,” Jensen apologized softly.
“Here, have a sip,” Jared handed over the steaming mug.
“I think my love for you just tripled,” Jensen whispered as he eagerly took the cup. “I won’t even ask what you put in here, but it smells like heaven.”
“Glad to know you approve,” Jared said with a smile. "Now get out."
“What?”
“Out, out out! Dinner will be at five, when the game starts.”
“But it’s not even nine!”
“I’ll serve you lunch, okay?” Jared physically pushed Jensen towards the hallway. “It’s going to be great!”
Jensen rolled his eyes and took deep appreciative sniffs at the aroma wafting around the room before he left.
“Love you!” Jared piped out even as his attention drifted back to the ruined dessert. He looked at the quickly solidifying gunk. “Okay, so Plan D.”
Jared heard Jensen throughout the day, and wondered what he was doing in the unheated garage, the back-stair’s linen closet, the office, the third bedroom, and the guest bathroom. Jared swore he even heard Jensen actually dancing in the master bedroom, which was located directly above the kitchen. But, no matter how hard he concentrated Jared couldn’t hear any music.
He checked the oven once more, making sure it was in the warm setting. “All right, then.”
Jared realized then he was nervous, it was as if he was opening Devon again. He took a deep breath and yelled, “Showtime!”
“Finally!” Jensen hollered from above.
Jared heard running footsteps down the stairs and grinned. He really was lucky. He knew plenty of people who would appreciate the fact that he was a chef, but not his love of experimenting with food.
“Hey,” Jensen said, as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands gleefully. “So, what’s up?”
“First, you’re going to park your ass in the den. The game just got started.”
Jensen's eagerness dimmed dramatically as he looked at the huge plasma screen. “Okay.” He turned back to Jared. “But the food?”
Jared couldn’t help but laugh at Jensen’s eager expression: it was positively adorable. “Just sit, dinner's coming right up.”
With great show of reluctance, Jensen parked his ass on the comfy couch. He looked at the television and said, “I bet dad’s watching this right now.”
“Figures, Dallas playing Dolphins. Can’t miss that,” Jared said from the kitchen.
Jensen settled into the couch and sighed. But, as soon as Jared appeared next to him, he straightened up again. “Cool, so what’s the first course?”
“Tomato tartare with balsamic glaze.”
Jensen frowned a little but he took the plate. “People actually eat vegetables while watching football?”
“Sometimes,” Jared said reluctantly.
“Wow, is that ice cream?” Jensen asked as he poked at a circular glob in the middle of the plate.
“Tomato sorbet,” Jared answered.
Jensen smiled. “Okay, then.” He took a bite. “I have to admit tomato sorbet sounded a bit weird, but it’s fantastic!”
“Good!” Jared plopped down next to Jensen. “So, give me an update?”
“Dallas is wearing silver.”
“Wow, man, you’re observant,” Jared deadpanned.
“And the Dophins? Their helmets have a dolphin logo on the side.”
“Pure genius.”
Jensen laughed. “That I am. Seriously, the game just started and I'm already lost.”
“They take the ball and whoever scores…”
Jensen poked Jared’s side with his elbow. “I'm not that slow.”
“Okay, well…”
Jensen finished his plate as he listened to Jared explain what was happening. His attention though was definitely on the empty plate in front of him.
“Okay, I get the hint,” Jared said as he got up. “Next up: pizza.”
“Ooohh, pepperoni?”
“Nothing so prosaic,” Jared answered.
“Ooohh, prosciutto?”
“Close but no dice,” Jared said as he opened the oven door and pulled out the pizza stone. He heard Jensen get up from the sofa and shouted, “Stay there!”
“Man, you really are a control freak, you know that?”
Jared plated the pizza and presented it with a flourish. Jensen took a deep appreciative sniff and whispered, “Are those clams?”
“Penn cove,” Jared said. “With rosemary, truffle cheese, walla walla onions and argula.”
Jensen took one bite. “I love football. I worship football. And my dad's going to love you even more when he hears about this.”
Jared felt a warm bloom when he realized what Jensen was actually saying. “Oh, I forgot.” With that Jared ran back to the kitchen.
He returned with roasted sweet peppers and black mission figs drizzled with olive oil, salt, shallots, and balsamic vinegar.
Jensen was in the middle of inhaling his second slice when he saw the two plates. Even with a stuffed mouth he managed to moan loudly in appreciation. Jared placed them in front of Jensen and sat back into the sofa, his face shining with achievement.
Jensen carefully examined the spread before him and said, “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara in that steamboat scene.”
“How is it you never saw a game of football but you saw Gone with the Wind?”
“Mom and sis loved that movie. There was no escaping it in my house.”
“Same here, actually.”
Jensen liberally forked over the figs to his plate. Jared did the same and sat back, enjoying the game and the sound of his boyfriend munching gleefully by his side.
By halftime the table in front of them didn’t have a scrap of food left. Jensen shook his head and said, “That was amazing, Jared. Seriously. Most of the time I don't get what you're doing but I am in awe of your talents.”
“That’s probably the most honest compliment I’ve received since I was seventeen.”
“Are you serious?” Jensen looked at Jared. “But I’m not your first … serious relationship, right?”
“No,” Jared answered. “The others though … they wanted to date a chef in order to enjoy the perks, but didn’t want the hassles that came with it. The long, weird hours, the kitchen fires, me being cranky and shit ‘cause things didn’t go smoothly.”
“But that’s normal,” Jensen said, perplexed. “Nobody has the perfect job. Nobody.”
Jared shook his head. “No, but most don’t have the glamour factor built into it, especially when someone becomes a successful chef at my age.”
“Dude, that’s wrong. If anything there should be some leeway because of your age.”
“You’d think, but that’s not the case. In fact, my experience and those of my fellow chefs say otherwise.”
Jensen made a noncommittal noise before spearing the last fig.
“I hope you got some room left ‘cause I made dessert.”
Jensen smiled. “I’ve been with you for what? Two years now? I know better.”
“Good, I think you’ll like this.”
With that Jared scampered off to the kitchen, banging through so many drawers and cabinets that Jensen’s attention drifted away from his plate and to him.
Jared returned with two narrow trays or what Jensen called ‘oversized cigar plates’. He handed one over with a broad grin.
“I think you’ll love this,” Jared said. “It’s like a three bean dip. And the cookie sticks are made from almonds. You use them to dip in the three cups, but I brought spoons just in case.”
Jensen looked down at the three dainty demitasses sitting on his plate. “What are these?”
“The creamy white one is vanilla bean sorbet with few drops of strawberry juice. The middle one is cold red bean soup. I know soup isn't usually listed under desserts, but it's amazing.”
Jensen smiled. "I see what you're getting at."
“Exactly,” Jared said. “And continuing with the bean theme: the last cup is tonka bean cream.”
“I have no idea what that is and I don’t care.”
Jared smiled fondly at Jensen as he began eating. He honestly doesn’t care what he’s eating as long as I made it. And because I made it, it must taste good. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn such trust but damn, I’m going to make sure I’ll never lose it.
Jensen looked thoughtful when he tasted the tonka dip. “It’s sweet … and smoky. I don’t think you ever used it before.”
“Nope, I was wondering how it’d go over as a winter dessert. It’s rich enough but nothing like chocolate, so I decided to give it a try.”
“I think it’ll be a hit,” Jensen said. “But I think you might have to change the name. People hear tonka and all they get is the plastic toy truck they’d destroyed as a child.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But everything else?”
“Everything else is a-okay.” With that Jensen finished his dessert. He looked at the screen and said, “So, we're still at halftime?”
“Yep, but since this isn’t the Super Bowl it’ll only take…”
“Let’s go to bed,” Jensen said.
“Umm … what?”
“I had enough football but not enough of you,” Jensen explained. “C’mon, I haven’t seen you all day and since Devon isn’t open tomorrow, we’ve finally got some time to spend. In bed.”
And that was another reason why Jared felt so damn lucky when it came to Jensen. Most people will readily associate gourmet food to sex, especially dessert, but after dining in a restaurant like Devon, they would almost always slip into food coma afterwards, barely able to crawl into bed before passing out.
Jensen, on the other hand, just got randier and randier with every dish. Wine not necessary. The first time he’d discovered this, Jared was barely able to function properly the day after. In fact, his sous chef, Steve Carlson, had to basically take the helm because Jared kept dozing off.
He felt Jensen’s hands lift him up from the couch and his musings before propelling him up the stairs. The next thing he knew, it was nine in the morning. Jared stumbled into the bathroom and found a note taped to the mirrors.
You were so tired I let you sleep. I’m going to the greenhouse to see if the heater held up through the night. After that I’ll be checking in on Devon. Hopefully the storm didn’t do too much damage. I should be done by ten at the latest.
Call me if you need anything.
Jared couldn’t help but smile, even as he was brushing his teeth. Here was yet another example of why Jensen had such a fierce grip on his heart. In spite of being keyed up after dinner, Jensen let him rest. He saw how tired Jared was and pushed aside all his needs.
Did it without a thought, I bet.
Jared took a quick, hot shower and then dressed in a suit worthy of a night out in New York. He checked his reflection and adjusted his tie before calling Jensen who was already heading home.
He had a lot of catching up to do, and he planned to do so in style.
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language
Warning: Since this is future!fic for Garlic and Butter I still recommend not reading on an empty stomach.
Disclaimer: Ever so fictional.
Author's Note: Written for egotists's fandom-free-for-all request.
Summary: Jared discovers Jensen has never watched a football game. He plans to correct that mistake as soon as possible. That is if he doesn't burn down the kitchen first.
Jared looked aghast as Jensen finished his coffee. “What do you mean you never watched a game?”
Jensen grinned. “What? I don't like football so I never thought to waste time sitting through a game.”
“Dude, you’re from Texas!”
Jensen leaned across the table and cupped Jared’s face with his hands. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jared, since you’re from San Antonio and all, but just because someone was born in the Great Longhorn State doesn’t automatically make them a fan of the game.”
“But … seriously?”
“Seriously,” Jensen answered and dropped a kiss on Jared’s lips before sitting back into his chair. “Don’t worry, my masculinity hasn’t taken a hit because I watch the news instead of the Super Bowl.”
“But they’ve got cool commercials,” Jared argued. “And the halftime shows are awesome!”
“Youtube,” Jensen quipped.
“You suck.”
“And you’re just digging yourself deeper,” Jensen said, grinning. “Why are you so obsessed with me watching football?”
“It’s not just watching,” Jared explained. “It’s about the experience.”
“I actually heard the quote marks.” Jensen looked at Jared with wide eyes. “So, what does this ‘experience’ detail?”
“Food! Good food!”
Jensen laughed. “Of course. Why did I even bother to ask?”
Jared gently thwacked him on the back of his head. “It’s not funny. Don’t you know how married food is to football?”
“Since I never watched a single game, I can honestly say I have no idea.”
“It’s … sanctified: holy, even.”
Jensen’s wide-eyed look grew deeper. “Holy shit, you’re deadly serious about this.”
“That’s it.” Jared reached for the notepad next to the phone. “We’re going to have a Monday Night Football extravaganza.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Jared shook his head. “Nope, leave it to me. You just sit back and enjoy.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I can get wine from Devon's cellar?”
Jared smiled. “Thanks, but we’re good. Don’t worry about anything. This is going to be my treat.”
Jensen paused for a moment then carefully said, “Jared, um … could we not have calf liver?”
Jared sighed. “I haven’t forgotten the emergency room visit. Especially since it was me who dialed 911.”
“Thanks.” Jensen gave another kiss. “I’ll be back in twenty.”
Jared huffed but only after Jensen was out of earshot. To date he still had no idea what brought on the asthma attack.
“Food poisoning,” the emergency room doctor had said.
Those two words were to a chef what silver was to werewolves, and Jared couldn’t - wouldn’t - believe he had poisoned Jensen, even accidentally. After Jensen stabilized, Jared visited the farmers responsible for the organ meat and questioned them quite thoroughly, including the feed they gave to the animals. The answers he'd received didn't reveal anything useful, and after two weeks of investigation, Jared still had no idea the cause of Jensen's collapse. As far as Jensen was concerned it was a freak attack, and promptly dismissed his ordeal.
Of course, Jensen wasn’t the one watching his lover's complexion turn leaden gray as he hiccupped what air was left in his lungs.
Jared shook the image out of his head. He didn’t want to remember that afternoon. Or the verbal war he started with the station nurse when she refused to tell him about Jensen’s condition since he was neither a family member nor legally married to the patient.
Jared took deep breaths to calm himself. Fuck that fuckery.
He started scribbling down all the foods he’d actually seen Jensen eat, pausing only for a moment when he heard Jensen fumble in the hall with his cross-country skis before going outside. He insisted on patrolling the property right before turning in. Jared thought this behavior both cute and hot (to be honest) but didn’t see the need for it until he read in the local papers about the vandalism plaguing the farms and homes surrounding his.
Bad economy make good people do bad things, Jensen had said. He then drove to Ethan’s Gun Shop to put in a special order, and a week later picked up a Garand to take with him during his nightly patrols. Jared was shocked to find Jensen had the special training necessary in order to purchase the rifle. He never asked the reason for Jensen’s knowledge, but was grateful for it. Having any kind of weaponry, especially one with such specific regard to killing made him nervous in spite of being a chef. He had dressed small game and routinely cleaned fish, but it took a completely foreign mentality to look down the scope and see a human being as a viable target.
Jared shoved his focus back onto the list. By the time him was finished, it had grown to three pages with notes jotted all around the margins, and this was without wine. Jared knew he was a talented chef, but he had no delusions whatsoever about transforming Jensen’s blasé attitude towards the sport into an obsession like his. So, he had created a ‘game menu’ that would last through the first half. He calculated ninety minutes plus fifteen if by some goddamn miracle the Dallas Cowboys actually managed to do something spectacular.
Jared heard Jensen approach the kitchen and ripped out the pages, hiding them under a stack of receipts on the table.
“So, everything five-by-five, captain?” Jared asked as Jensen entered the kitchen, dusting off a fine cover of snow on his shoulders and his hat.
“Yeah, everything looks good. The heater in the greenhouse is acting up again. I'm going to have to take a look at it tomorrow.”
When Jared didn’t answer Jensen looked up and caught his boyfriend’s lascivious gaze. He grinned and shook his head. “You really do have a thing for cowboy hats, don’t you?”
“No, I have a thing for the man wearing it,” Jared answered. “Just follow me and I’ll warm you up in no time.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jared looked at the dessert currently on fire with extreme annoyance. The flames were pretty blue, which was nice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t suppose to burning. At least not until he served the goddamn thing.
With a tired sigh he slammed the lid closed on the saucepan and waited for two full minutes before lifting the lid right under a running faucet.
At least it smells right, Jared sourly noted. He examined the goopy brown mess before taking a cautious taste of what was suppose to be his version of crepe flambé. As the cream melted on his tongue Jared took small comfort in the fact that he concocted the right amount of coconut and rum mixture.
Jared caught something flying by the kitchen window. Oh, please God, don’t let that be some part of the roof!
The picturesque dusting of snow had turned into a blizzard overnight, isolating the farms all along Berth River. Jared quickly realized there was no way he could open Devon, so he called his employees to tell them they wouldn’t need to come in for the next two days since the blizzard was going nowhere until Wednesday, at the earliest.
Mercifully, the Dallas game was being held in sunny Florida, where the only threat was a level four hurricane that might sweep both the Cowboys and the Dolphins out into sea. And wouldn't that just be a shame?
Seriously.
Something slammed against the west wall with such force Jared decided to look for the cause.
That just sucks, Jared mourned as he saw broken bits of what used to be a pricey modern chaise lounge he’d purchased for Jensen. He thought the seven hundred dollars was a good investment since he could watch his boyfriend sunbathe in various bits of clothing, most of which were appreciably small in yardage.
Focusing back to the soggy remains of the dessert, Jared mentally calculated what he had left. Of course, there was foodstuff in Devon, so he could make anything he damned well pleased, but Jensen had already tasted all the restaurant's desserts and he wanted to make something new. Something … unpredictable.
A change in color caught Jared's eye, and he watched as Jensen’s dark figure materialize almost magically from the blizzard. Jared quickly checked on the mulled cider and was pleased to note at least it wasn’t up in flames. He poured a generous amount into a large mug and waited for Jensen to come into the kitchen.
Jensen closed the door with a slam and shook his head. “Holy Jesus! For couple of minutes I had no idea where the hell I was!”
Jared realized Jensen was genuinely frightened, and little wonder. He could've easily gotten turned around in the storm and wandered into the woods bordering on his property. “Don’t go out until the winds die down.”
“I don’t plan to,” Jensen agreed readily. “I got the furnace working again.”
“So, the seedlings are safe?” Jared asked. The greenhouse may be state-of-the-art but even it couldn’t protect its contents should the heater suddenly stop working.
“Yeah, there was a bend in the feeder,” Jensen answered. “I think we’re going to have to replace it with a shorter one as soon as we can.”
“This is turning into some storm,” Jared said as he watched the whiteout blanket all the windows.
“I never understood why people think Mother Nature is this cozy, pretty woman with the maternal imprint of a saint when the truth is she’s a sadistic bitch who’ll bite off your sacs the first chance she gets.”
“I’m guessing your opinion is slightly shaded by the fact that you’ve been hunting coyotes non-stop for a year now.”
Jensen blushed. “Maybe. But those fuckers got three of the spring lambs!”
Jared flinched as he remembered what was left of the poor creatures after the coyotes had done their work. “Yeah, I remember the bloodbath.”
“Sorry,” Jensen apologized softly.
“Here, have a sip,” Jared handed over the steaming mug.
“I think my love for you just tripled,” Jensen whispered as he eagerly took the cup. “I won’t even ask what you put in here, but it smells like heaven.”
“Glad to know you approve,” Jared said with a smile. "Now get out."
“What?”
“Out, out out! Dinner will be at five, when the game starts.”
“But it’s not even nine!”
“I’ll serve you lunch, okay?” Jared physically pushed Jensen towards the hallway. “It’s going to be great!”
Jensen rolled his eyes and took deep appreciative sniffs at the aroma wafting around the room before he left.
“Love you!” Jared piped out even as his attention drifted back to the ruined dessert. He looked at the quickly solidifying gunk. “Okay, so Plan D.”
Jared heard Jensen throughout the day, and wondered what he was doing in the unheated garage, the back-stair’s linen closet, the office, the third bedroom, and the guest bathroom. Jared swore he even heard Jensen actually dancing in the master bedroom, which was located directly above the kitchen. But, no matter how hard he concentrated Jared couldn’t hear any music.
He checked the oven once more, making sure it was in the warm setting. “All right, then.”
Jared realized then he was nervous, it was as if he was opening Devon again. He took a deep breath and yelled, “Showtime!”
“Finally!” Jensen hollered from above.
Jared heard running footsteps down the stairs and grinned. He really was lucky. He knew plenty of people who would appreciate the fact that he was a chef, but not his love of experimenting with food.
“Hey,” Jensen said, as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands gleefully. “So, what’s up?”
“First, you’re going to park your ass in the den. The game just got started.”
Jensen's eagerness dimmed dramatically as he looked at the huge plasma screen. “Okay.” He turned back to Jared. “But the food?”
Jared couldn’t help but laugh at Jensen’s eager expression: it was positively adorable. “Just sit, dinner's coming right up.”
With great show of reluctance, Jensen parked his ass on the comfy couch. He looked at the television and said, “I bet dad’s watching this right now.”
“Figures, Dallas playing Dolphins. Can’t miss that,” Jared said from the kitchen.
Jensen settled into the couch and sighed. But, as soon as Jared appeared next to him, he straightened up again. “Cool, so what’s the first course?”
“Tomato tartare with balsamic glaze.”
Jensen frowned a little but he took the plate. “People actually eat vegetables while watching football?”
“Sometimes,” Jared said reluctantly.
“Wow, is that ice cream?” Jensen asked as he poked at a circular glob in the middle of the plate.
“Tomato sorbet,” Jared answered.
Jensen smiled. “Okay, then.” He took a bite. “I have to admit tomato sorbet sounded a bit weird, but it’s fantastic!”
“Good!” Jared plopped down next to Jensen. “So, give me an update?”
“Dallas is wearing silver.”
“Wow, man, you’re observant,” Jared deadpanned.
“And the Dophins? Their helmets have a dolphin logo on the side.”
“Pure genius.”
Jensen laughed. “That I am. Seriously, the game just started and I'm already lost.”
“They take the ball and whoever scores…”
Jensen poked Jared’s side with his elbow. “I'm not that slow.”
“Okay, well…”
Jensen finished his plate as he listened to Jared explain what was happening. His attention though was definitely on the empty plate in front of him.
“Okay, I get the hint,” Jared said as he got up. “Next up: pizza.”
“Ooohh, pepperoni?”
“Nothing so prosaic,” Jared answered.
“Ooohh, prosciutto?”
“Close but no dice,” Jared said as he opened the oven door and pulled out the pizza stone. He heard Jensen get up from the sofa and shouted, “Stay there!”
“Man, you really are a control freak, you know that?”
Jared plated the pizza and presented it with a flourish. Jensen took a deep appreciative sniff and whispered, “Are those clams?”
“Penn cove,” Jared said. “With rosemary, truffle cheese, walla walla onions and argula.”
Jensen took one bite. “I love football. I worship football. And my dad's going to love you even more when he hears about this.”
Jared felt a warm bloom when he realized what Jensen was actually saying. “Oh, I forgot.” With that Jared ran back to the kitchen.
He returned with roasted sweet peppers and black mission figs drizzled with olive oil, salt, shallots, and balsamic vinegar.
Jensen was in the middle of inhaling his second slice when he saw the two plates. Even with a stuffed mouth he managed to moan loudly in appreciation. Jared placed them in front of Jensen and sat back into the sofa, his face shining with achievement.
Jensen carefully examined the spread before him and said, “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara in that steamboat scene.”
“How is it you never saw a game of football but you saw Gone with the Wind?”
“Mom and sis loved that movie. There was no escaping it in my house.”
“Same here, actually.”
Jensen liberally forked over the figs to his plate. Jared did the same and sat back, enjoying the game and the sound of his boyfriend munching gleefully by his side.
By halftime the table in front of them didn’t have a scrap of food left. Jensen shook his head and said, “That was amazing, Jared. Seriously. Most of the time I don't get what you're doing but I am in awe of your talents.”
“That’s probably the most honest compliment I’ve received since I was seventeen.”
“Are you serious?” Jensen looked at Jared. “But I’m not your first … serious relationship, right?”
“No,” Jared answered. “The others though … they wanted to date a chef in order to enjoy the perks, but didn’t want the hassles that came with it. The long, weird hours, the kitchen fires, me being cranky and shit ‘cause things didn’t go smoothly.”
“But that’s normal,” Jensen said, perplexed. “Nobody has the perfect job. Nobody.”
Jared shook his head. “No, but most don’t have the glamour factor built into it, especially when someone becomes a successful chef at my age.”
“Dude, that’s wrong. If anything there should be some leeway because of your age.”
“You’d think, but that’s not the case. In fact, my experience and those of my fellow chefs say otherwise.”
Jensen made a noncommittal noise before spearing the last fig.
“I hope you got some room left ‘cause I made dessert.”
Jensen smiled. “I’ve been with you for what? Two years now? I know better.”
“Good, I think you’ll like this.”
With that Jared scampered off to the kitchen, banging through so many drawers and cabinets that Jensen’s attention drifted away from his plate and to him.
Jared returned with two narrow trays or what Jensen called ‘oversized cigar plates’. He handed one over with a broad grin.
“I think you’ll love this,” Jared said. “It’s like a three bean dip. And the cookie sticks are made from almonds. You use them to dip in the three cups, but I brought spoons just in case.”
Jensen looked down at the three dainty demitasses sitting on his plate. “What are these?”
“The creamy white one is vanilla bean sorbet with few drops of strawberry juice. The middle one is cold red bean soup. I know soup isn't usually listed under desserts, but it's amazing.”
Jensen smiled. "I see what you're getting at."
“Exactly,” Jared said. “And continuing with the bean theme: the last cup is tonka bean cream.”
“I have no idea what that is and I don’t care.”
Jared smiled fondly at Jensen as he began eating. He honestly doesn’t care what he’s eating as long as I made it. And because I made it, it must taste good. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn such trust but damn, I’m going to make sure I’ll never lose it.
Jensen looked thoughtful when he tasted the tonka dip. “It’s sweet … and smoky. I don’t think you ever used it before.”
“Nope, I was wondering how it’d go over as a winter dessert. It’s rich enough but nothing like chocolate, so I decided to give it a try.”
“I think it’ll be a hit,” Jensen said. “But I think you might have to change the name. People hear tonka and all they get is the plastic toy truck they’d destroyed as a child.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But everything else?”
“Everything else is a-okay.” With that Jensen finished his dessert. He looked at the screen and said, “So, we're still at halftime?”
“Yep, but since this isn’t the Super Bowl it’ll only take…”
“Let’s go to bed,” Jensen said.
“Umm … what?”
“I had enough football but not enough of you,” Jensen explained. “C’mon, I haven’t seen you all day and since Devon isn’t open tomorrow, we’ve finally got some time to spend. In bed.”
And that was another reason why Jared felt so damn lucky when it came to Jensen. Most people will readily associate gourmet food to sex, especially dessert, but after dining in a restaurant like Devon, they would almost always slip into food coma afterwards, barely able to crawl into bed before passing out.
Jensen, on the other hand, just got randier and randier with every dish. Wine not necessary. The first time he’d discovered this, Jared was barely able to function properly the day after. In fact, his sous chef, Steve Carlson, had to basically take the helm because Jared kept dozing off.
He felt Jensen’s hands lift him up from the couch and his musings before propelling him up the stairs. The next thing he knew, it was nine in the morning. Jared stumbled into the bathroom and found a note taped to the mirrors.
You were so tired I let you sleep. I’m going to the greenhouse to see if the heater held up through the night. After that I’ll be checking in on Devon. Hopefully the storm didn’t do too much damage. I should be done by ten at the latest.
Call me if you need anything.
Jared couldn’t help but smile, even as he was brushing his teeth. Here was yet another example of why Jensen had such a fierce grip on his heart. In spite of being keyed up after dinner, Jensen let him rest. He saw how tired Jared was and pushed aside all his needs.
Did it without a thought, I bet.
Jared took a quick, hot shower and then dressed in a suit worthy of a night out in New York. He checked his reflection and adjusted his tie before calling Jensen who was already heading home.
He had a lot of catching up to do, and he planned to do so in style.