FIC: When Jensen Found Out What Jared Does On Tuesdays
Title: When Jensen Found Out What Jared Does On Tuesdays
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Warnings: RPS AU, Chad, boys wearing frilly things.
Wordcount: 2,857
Notes: For regala_electra on her birthday!! (Uhm, belatedly)
Disclaimer: This is all made up. I have no idea if Anthony Bourdain has seen the inside of a Peruvian jail cell or not. Jared and Jensen's characterizations are actually lovingly borrowed from the birthday girl herself.
Thanks: To ignited for giving me the mojo to finish this last night and beta-ing it!! (And for making me an appropriate icon, as always! ♥♥♥) Thank you to glendaglamazon for the wine selection!
Summary: In an AU world where Jensen was a runner-up on Top Chef, and Jared made it to Fashion Week on Project Runway-this is how they spend their Tuesday nights.
When Jensen Found Out What Jared Does On Tuesdays
or
The Time That Anthony Bourdain Got Thrown Into A Peruvian Jail Because Of Lousy Ceviche
Tuesday is Jensen's poker night.
During Jensen's run on Top Chef, he had earned the begrudging respect of Anthony Bourdain through his use of rarely-known Thai spices made from ground up seahorses and urchin testicles; his complete disrespect to those contestants who used any kinds of foam in their dishes; and his maverick idea of substituting bacon for salt in every dish he could. Even though he accidentally threw a pie in Bourdain's face during one of the judging panels, (which was totally Jessica Alba's fault! Why the hell did they even try to do a dessert? Jensen hated the team challenges), Anthony liked Jensen, for whatever reason.
And when Jensen returned to New York, he got an e-mail with a standing invitation to a Tuesday night poker game at Del Posto. Bourdain's there, along with Mario Batali and Harold Dieterle and any other chefs visiting in town. Jensen makes the best damn buffalo wings they've ever had. So spicy you could still taste your mouth burning the next morning.
Poker nights continued to be on Tuesdays, despite the fact that Jensen now had a live-in Boyfriend. And yes, that's Boyfriend with a capital B, which is how Jared (his Boyfriend) insisted he write it as. Because he thought "lover" was tacky and they weren't having a commitment ceremony unless it was legalized in New York, and Jared could get Vera Wang to design the tuxes. He was particular like that.
The story of Jared and Jensen is a story for another time. All you really need to know is that Jared was on Project Runway, and they met at some Bravo industry party. It was love at first sight of bowlegs and fumbling Texas drawl. Or something close enough to love.
Whatever it was, Jared and Jensen found themselves cohabitating and spending pretty much every waking minute they weren't designing or cooking, in each other's faces. So it was good that Tuesday was a reprieve from each other.
Jared could talk all day and all night, often dropping a conversation with Jensen as he closed the front door to leave in the morning, and picking it right back up again when he opened it again in the evening. Jensen was of fewer words, but had a nervous energy in his hands. He'd always be touching something: touching Jared with his hands and mouth, or flipping channels on the remote way too fast, or he'd be cooking. He had the fastest knives on his season, though desserts were his Achilles heel, he'd since perfected his basic understanding of dough, and was getting to be a whiz at spinning towers of sugar.
The latter of which, usually lead to more touching of Jensen (the sugar was certainly not a deterrent to Jared).
But that whole romance notwithstanding, we're here today because of Jensen's poker night. Actually, we're here because of Anthony Bourdain's big fucking mouth. The one that just got him landed in a Peruvian prison for insulting the ceviche he was served, and accidentally mispronouncing a few words and instead making a death threat to El Presidente.
Which meant that poker night was cancelled that week, and Jensen could stay home and catch up on his reading. A glass of Beaujolais Nouveau in his hand, and Anansi Boys in the other, Jensen was ready for a nice, relaxing evening.
"You're still here?" Jared asks, interrupting his inner monologue. Jensen peers over his glasses. Jared's arms are crossed and he's tapping his soft leather house-shoes impatiently.
"Yeah, um, poker got cancelled because Bourdain's in a Peruvian prison. I thought I told you?"
"Well you didn't!" Jared huffs and storms off. "Now I have to call the guys and tell them it's cancelled."
"Wait, what's cancelled? Jared!" Jensen goes after him, dropping his book but taking a nice healthy sip of the wine.
Jared's got his phone out and his finger up, shushing Jensen. "I have to cancel Tuesdays with the guys if you're here tonight, hello, Chad? It's me," Jared says.
Jensen shakes his head. "Jared, you don't have to cancel-wait, Tuesdays are what?"
"Hold on," Jared cups his hand over the receiver. "Tuesdays are my nights with the guys, you know?"
Jensen shakes his head. "No, apparently I don't know."
Jared laughs, "Well what, did you think I just waited around all night for you, pining away? Shut up Chad, I'm not talking to you!"
"Well, okay, but you don't have to cancel. I mean, I can just stay out of your way if you want me to."
Jared quirks his mouth, "Nevermind Chad, bring extra Doritos. And don't wipe your hands on the couch or I'll sew your ass cheeks together," Jared says and hangs up the phone.
Jensen laughs into his fist and sways on his heels. "Soooooo, guys' night?"
"Yeah, we might have to ask you to change."
**
Tuesday is usually Jensen's poker night. And unbeknownst to him, Tuesday nights are also Jared's guys' night at the apartment.
Only they call it their Cross-dressing Tuesdays, (with a capital C in Cross-dressing).
And they're aptly named Cross-dressing Tuesdays because that's pretty much what they do. All the other activities of the night are interchangeable. Sometimes they drink beer and watch movies. Or watch Lifetime movies and do a shot every time someone is crying, pregnant, or finds out they're adopted. Sometimes they just drink and bitch and run Real Housewives or Dexter marathons.
It didn't really matter what they were doing, watching, or drinking. What mattered was of course, what they were wearing. And how frilly, short, tight, pink and bikini-cut it was.
Chad was the first to arrive, and said a polite hello to Jensen when he answered the door, which for Chad meant that he gave him a high five, a slap on the ass and addressing Jensen as "Peggy Sue". And then once the door shut behind him, off went his street clothes leaving him clad in nothing but a lacey black bra and matching panties. His trademark quote from his run on Project Runway was written on the cups in pink piping: "Stop Being" on one and "A Bitch" on the other.
Once Jensen was able to close his mouth from the shock, Chad demanded Peggy Sue "beer him five."
Jensen must have stared, blinked, and considered the limitations of "justifiable homicide" for about ten minutes before shaking it off and walking into the kitchen; and then collides with six feet and four inches of his Boyfriend in a corset. It's a little overwhelming, to say the least.
Jared's in a slinky black corset with red lining, fishnets, and a garter belt holding it all together through sheer force of will or the grace of God; because really if he bends the wrong way, Jensen's pretty sure everything might coming flying out.
If he doesn't rip through Jared's outfit with his teeth, first.
Jared smiles and slips into his heels, bringing him up to a grand total of six feet and seven inches of gorgeous Boyfriend stuffed into a slinky black corset. "See what I meant about you having to dress the part?" he says as he turns to put the popcorn in the microwave.
Jensen tries unsuccessfully to blink his gaze away from the way Jared's ass curves in the low rider-cut underwear. "Having who in the what now?"
Jared rolls his eyes. "My eyes are up here," he says pointing to his face.
"I know," Jensen says, still not looking anywhere else but at Jared's ass. "But your eyes aren't wearing lingerie."
Jared leans on the kitchen counter, bending over even more to push out his ass; and making it more and more likely that Jensen was going to have to eat his way through fishnets before the night was over. "Fair enough."
**
It gets a little worse when Tom and Mike show up. Mostly because it means that Jensen's even more torn between bouts of laughter because Tom's wearing a babydoll dress and leggings with a hipster pashmina around his neck. Mike's in a jean skirt and a tubetop and a blonde wig, that strangely enough, works on him.
Mike turns to Jensen, patting him hard on the back and says: "Sometimes, you just gotta get your boys together, put on women's clothing, and let all your cares go, know what I mean?"
Jensen stares straight ahead, trying to not notice the way Mike's fake tits are hanging slightly lopsided. "Uhhh, I guess so?"
Chad scoffs. "It's not fair; he should at least put on a dress if he's hanging out with us, Jared!"
Jared saunters by, and snaps Chad's bra strap. "Hush, you. Be nice to our guest."
"Isn't this technically his house?" Tom asks, sipping his Cosmo.
"I meant that he's a guest to Cross-dressing Tuesday. And Jensen doesn't have to dress up if he's not ready yet," Jared says sitting down next to Jensen, patting his thigh reassuringly.
Or, it would be a reassuring pat, if it didn't leave Jensen all flushed and still half hard, pathetically trying to hide it using a throw pillow. Because it's Jared, and he's in a corset and he's kind of squished up on the couch next to him because he's so damn tall, and of course Jared decides to sling his arm around Jensen and lean his head on his shoulder. He's talking to Chad or Tom and Mike's trying to explain why heels will never be out to Jensen but all he hears is white noise.
All he can do is lift up one finger and slowly trace the seam of Jared's panties while no one is looking. He hopes.
Jared turns to face him, both arms slung around his neck now, and he smiles. Jared leans in to place a feather-light kiss to Jensen's cheek, and Jensen stands up so fast he nearly knocks Jared down.
"Anyone hungry? I'm starving!" Jensen practically shouts, making a beeline for the kitchen.
Tom looks up at him, giving a shrug. "I'm good with the kettle corn."
Jensen peers back into the sitting room, and sees Jared lick his lips and give Jensen a look, and Jensen shouts: "Hot wings! No guys' night is complete without hot wings! Let me whip you up some of my special Five-Alarm Texas Whoseywhatsits wings!" Jensen shouts.
"Yes!" Chad says with a fist pump in the air, leaning over to give Mike five and clink their cocktails together. Though Chad's isn't really a cocktail, he insists on still drinking his PBR, but they're making him do it through a martini glass with a lemon twist so he doesn't break the mood.
Jensen slips easily into his intense prep-mode, tunnel vision in full effect as he chops vegetables and simultaneously goes over the contents of the fridge and pantry in order to put together his menu. Jared tells him he thinks it's leftover from the Quickfires he did while he was on the show, Jensen just insists he's always been this way.
Jensen hears Jared's heels clicking against the kitchen tile and drawing closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jared leaning against the door of the refrigerator, staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Y'know, I never knew you had some famous hot wing recipe in your repertoire," Jared says.
"I do now," Jensen answers, mouth tight and not looking up from the parsley and garlic he's chopping into a fine mince.
Jared grabs his wrist, and Jensen jerks, whipping around to glare at him. He snaps his hand back and snarls, "Jared, what the hell? I could have taken my fucking finger off!"
"Don't you point that knife at me!" Jared says, stamping his foot down.
"Don't fucking touch me when I'm mincing!"
"There goes your sex life!" Chad shouts from the living room, and the guys laugh.
Jared shuts the kitchen door and crosses his arms facing Jensen. Jensen puts the knife down on the cutting board and wipes the garlic residue on his apron. "You wanna say something?" Jensen asks.
"I wanna know what the hell your problem is with Cross-dressing Tuesday, Jensen. Why are you getting all jumpy and weird around my friends? You and Mike hang out all the time, and just because he likes to put on a wig and fake tits you're gonna ignore him?"
Jensen breathes heavy. "My problem, Jared, is not your friends dressing up like chicks, and in Chad's case, some kind of demented frat boy underwear fetishist. My problem is you all, y'know-" Jensen fights for the words. "All dressed up like sex on two legs and I can't do anything about it until your boys go home! So I'm either out there fighting the world's biggest case of corset-induced blue balls; or I'm in here making you hot wings with the hoisin sauce you like."
Jared sways a little on his feet, the quickest way to his heart has always been his love of all things made with vinegar or pork. "You-you were gonna make me the hoisin sauce?"
"If you're nice," Jensen says, turning back to the cutting board.
Jared moves closer, leaning over Jensen's shoulder to whisper in his ear. "And if I'm not?"
"Then I'm ripping you out of that corset with my teeth tonight."
Jared cocks an eyebrow. "Maybe another night." He walks back towards the door. "Y'know, I forgot that cooking was kind of like your version of a cold shower."
"Or your version of knitting," Jensen says with a smirk.
Jared points at him menacingly. "You take that to the grave, Jensen Ackles. Chad already gives me enough shit for the braided belts I do."
**
The moment the front door clicks shut, and they're finally alone in the apartment; Jensen crushes Jared's mouth against his. Jared bites down on Jensen's bottom lip and he hisses back.
"Yes?" Jared asks, innocent twinge in his voice and Jensen almost growls in response.
"Fucking kidding me, Jared. You're fucking-fuck!" Jensen's eyes roll back as Jared's hand slips down the front of his pants, grabbing his half-hard cock.
"My eyes are up here, pal," Jared teases as he wraps his other arm around Jensen's shoulder, gripping his short hair tight with his free hand.
Jensen moans and nuzzles against Jared's face. "Can't help it, love you like this, love the way your body looks. The way your ass looks; can't take my eyes off it."
"Am I giving you any ideas?" Jared says, and he nearly jumps when Jensen's hands settle firm on his backside, squeezing him.
"You could say that," Jensen whispers. "Giving me ideas of what I can do for that fine ass of yours." Jared almost laughs at that, but the look on Jensen's face. His eyes dark and set on him, all he does in response is bite the corner of his mouth and nod.
Giving Jensen's cock another playful stroke, Jared takes his hands back and pulls Jensen by the arm to the bedroom. Once inside, he kicks off the heels and Jensen starts tugging his own shirt and pants off.
Jensen's naked above him, pinning his arms down on the bed and trapping his mouth in a kiss. "Want me to leave it on? Kinky," Jared says with a wink and Jensen shakes his head.
"Want what I've been wanting to do all night, tear you out of that and fuck you raw."
Jared swallows, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slip shut. "Do it," he says, swallowing.
Jensen's hands run down his body, pulling and pressing at the ties and straps holding the garments together, running his fingers along seams and zippers.
Then he stops, and clears his throat. Jared opens one eye.
"Uhh, so how do you get this off?" Jensen asks.
Jared rolls his eyes. "Insert dick into-"
"I mean the corset, Jared!" Jensen says, voice raising an octave.
Jared sits up and starts unhooking himself. "I'm messing with you, Jensen."
Jensen frowns and starts rummaging around the bedside table for the lube and condoms, grumbling under his breath.
Jared laughs. "Don't worry, it takes some practice, but you get the hang of how these things work," Jared says, stripping himself bare naked fishnets and all.
"I told you, I'm not into wearing things like that."
"I meant next week, Jensen." Jared lays down at Jensen's side, running a finger against the curve of his pectoral muscle. "You're coming next week, right? I'm thinking of trying on the blue dress with the white leggings. And you should make us chicken fritters and salchipapas."
Jensen's mouth waters. "Just, promise me one thing, Jared?"
"Anything," Jared says.
"Tell Chad to stop calling me Peggy Sue, or I'm gonna start feeding him veggie bacon."
**
Tuesday nights aren't Jensen's poker nights anymore. Jensen asked his chef buddies if they could move them to Thursday nights, on account of the standing catering job he has on Tuesdays.
He also asked them for their favorite snack food and cocktail recipes, and whether or not they thought he could pull off an empire waist.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Warnings: RPS AU, Chad, boys wearing frilly things.
Wordcount: 2,857
Notes: For regala_electra on her birthday!! (Uhm, belatedly)
Disclaimer: This is all made up. I have no idea if Anthony Bourdain has seen the inside of a Peruvian jail cell or not. Jared and Jensen's characterizations are actually lovingly borrowed from the birthday girl herself.
Thanks: To ignited for giving me the mojo to finish this last night and beta-ing it!! (And for making me an appropriate icon, as always! ♥♥♥) Thank you to glendaglamazon for the wine selection!
Summary: In an AU world where Jensen was a runner-up on Top Chef, and Jared made it to Fashion Week on Project Runway-this is how they spend their Tuesday nights.
When Jensen Found Out What Jared Does On Tuesdays
or
The Time That Anthony Bourdain Got Thrown Into A Peruvian Jail Because Of Lousy Ceviche
Tuesday is Jensen's poker night.
During Jensen's run on Top Chef, he had earned the begrudging respect of Anthony Bourdain through his use of rarely-known Thai spices made from ground up seahorses and urchin testicles; his complete disrespect to those contestants who used any kinds of foam in their dishes; and his maverick idea of substituting bacon for salt in every dish he could. Even though he accidentally threw a pie in Bourdain's face during one of the judging panels, (which was totally Jessica Alba's fault! Why the hell did they even try to do a dessert? Jensen hated the team challenges), Anthony liked Jensen, for whatever reason.
And when Jensen returned to New York, he got an e-mail with a standing invitation to a Tuesday night poker game at Del Posto. Bourdain's there, along with Mario Batali and Harold Dieterle and any other chefs visiting in town. Jensen makes the best damn buffalo wings they've ever had. So spicy you could still taste your mouth burning the next morning.
Poker nights continued to be on Tuesdays, despite the fact that Jensen now had a live-in Boyfriend. And yes, that's Boyfriend with a capital B, which is how Jared (his Boyfriend) insisted he write it as. Because he thought "lover" was tacky and they weren't having a commitment ceremony unless it was legalized in New York, and Jared could get Vera Wang to design the tuxes. He was particular like that.
The story of Jared and Jensen is a story for another time. All you really need to know is that Jared was on Project Runway, and they met at some Bravo industry party. It was love at first sight of bowlegs and fumbling Texas drawl. Or something close enough to love.
Whatever it was, Jared and Jensen found themselves cohabitating and spending pretty much every waking minute they weren't designing or cooking, in each other's faces. So it was good that Tuesday was a reprieve from each other.
Jared could talk all day and all night, often dropping a conversation with Jensen as he closed the front door to leave in the morning, and picking it right back up again when he opened it again in the evening. Jensen was of fewer words, but had a nervous energy in his hands. He'd always be touching something: touching Jared with his hands and mouth, or flipping channels on the remote way too fast, or he'd be cooking. He had the fastest knives on his season, though desserts were his Achilles heel, he'd since perfected his basic understanding of dough, and was getting to be a whiz at spinning towers of sugar.
The latter of which, usually lead to more touching of Jensen (the sugar was certainly not a deterrent to Jared).
But that whole romance notwithstanding, we're here today because of Jensen's poker night. Actually, we're here because of Anthony Bourdain's big fucking mouth. The one that just got him landed in a Peruvian prison for insulting the ceviche he was served, and accidentally mispronouncing a few words and instead making a death threat to El Presidente.
Which meant that poker night was cancelled that week, and Jensen could stay home and catch up on his reading. A glass of Beaujolais Nouveau in his hand, and Anansi Boys in the other, Jensen was ready for a nice, relaxing evening.
"You're still here?" Jared asks, interrupting his inner monologue. Jensen peers over his glasses. Jared's arms are crossed and he's tapping his soft leather house-shoes impatiently.
"Yeah, um, poker got cancelled because Bourdain's in a Peruvian prison. I thought I told you?"
"Well you didn't!" Jared huffs and storms off. "Now I have to call the guys and tell them it's cancelled."
"Wait, what's cancelled? Jared!" Jensen goes after him, dropping his book but taking a nice healthy sip of the wine.
Jared's got his phone out and his finger up, shushing Jensen. "I have to cancel Tuesdays with the guys if you're here tonight, hello, Chad? It's me," Jared says.
Jensen shakes his head. "Jared, you don't have to cancel-wait, Tuesdays are what?"
"Hold on," Jared cups his hand over the receiver. "Tuesdays are my nights with the guys, you know?"
Jensen shakes his head. "No, apparently I don't know."
Jared laughs, "Well what, did you think I just waited around all night for you, pining away? Shut up Chad, I'm not talking to you!"
"Well, okay, but you don't have to cancel. I mean, I can just stay out of your way if you want me to."
Jared quirks his mouth, "Nevermind Chad, bring extra Doritos. And don't wipe your hands on the couch or I'll sew your ass cheeks together," Jared says and hangs up the phone.
Jensen laughs into his fist and sways on his heels. "Soooooo, guys' night?"
"Yeah, we might have to ask you to change."
**
Tuesday is usually Jensen's poker night. And unbeknownst to him, Tuesday nights are also Jared's guys' night at the apartment.
Only they call it their Cross-dressing Tuesdays, (with a capital C in Cross-dressing).
And they're aptly named Cross-dressing Tuesdays because that's pretty much what they do. All the other activities of the night are interchangeable. Sometimes they drink beer and watch movies. Or watch Lifetime movies and do a shot every time someone is crying, pregnant, or finds out they're adopted. Sometimes they just drink and bitch and run Real Housewives or Dexter marathons.
It didn't really matter what they were doing, watching, or drinking. What mattered was of course, what they were wearing. And how frilly, short, tight, pink and bikini-cut it was.
Chad was the first to arrive, and said a polite hello to Jensen when he answered the door, which for Chad meant that he gave him a high five, a slap on the ass and addressing Jensen as "Peggy Sue". And then once the door shut behind him, off went his street clothes leaving him clad in nothing but a lacey black bra and matching panties. His trademark quote from his run on Project Runway was written on the cups in pink piping: "Stop Being" on one and "A Bitch" on the other.
Once Jensen was able to close his mouth from the shock, Chad demanded Peggy Sue "beer him five."
Jensen must have stared, blinked, and considered the limitations of "justifiable homicide" for about ten minutes before shaking it off and walking into the kitchen; and then collides with six feet and four inches of his Boyfriend in a corset. It's a little overwhelming, to say the least.
Jared's in a slinky black corset with red lining, fishnets, and a garter belt holding it all together through sheer force of will or the grace of God; because really if he bends the wrong way, Jensen's pretty sure everything might coming flying out.
If he doesn't rip through Jared's outfit with his teeth, first.
Jared smiles and slips into his heels, bringing him up to a grand total of six feet and seven inches of gorgeous Boyfriend stuffed into a slinky black corset. "See what I meant about you having to dress the part?" he says as he turns to put the popcorn in the microwave.
Jensen tries unsuccessfully to blink his gaze away from the way Jared's ass curves in the low rider-cut underwear. "Having who in the what now?"
Jared rolls his eyes. "My eyes are up here," he says pointing to his face.
"I know," Jensen says, still not looking anywhere else but at Jared's ass. "But your eyes aren't wearing lingerie."
Jared leans on the kitchen counter, bending over even more to push out his ass; and making it more and more likely that Jensen was going to have to eat his way through fishnets before the night was over. "Fair enough."
**
It gets a little worse when Tom and Mike show up. Mostly because it means that Jensen's even more torn between bouts of laughter because Tom's wearing a babydoll dress and leggings with a hipster pashmina around his neck. Mike's in a jean skirt and a tubetop and a blonde wig, that strangely enough, works on him.
Mike turns to Jensen, patting him hard on the back and says: "Sometimes, you just gotta get your boys together, put on women's clothing, and let all your cares go, know what I mean?"
Jensen stares straight ahead, trying to not notice the way Mike's fake tits are hanging slightly lopsided. "Uhhh, I guess so?"
Chad scoffs. "It's not fair; he should at least put on a dress if he's hanging out with us, Jared!"
Jared saunters by, and snaps Chad's bra strap. "Hush, you. Be nice to our guest."
"Isn't this technically his house?" Tom asks, sipping his Cosmo.
"I meant that he's a guest to Cross-dressing Tuesday. And Jensen doesn't have to dress up if he's not ready yet," Jared says sitting down next to Jensen, patting his thigh reassuringly.
Or, it would be a reassuring pat, if it didn't leave Jensen all flushed and still half hard, pathetically trying to hide it using a throw pillow. Because it's Jared, and he's in a corset and he's kind of squished up on the couch next to him because he's so damn tall, and of course Jared decides to sling his arm around Jensen and lean his head on his shoulder. He's talking to Chad or Tom and Mike's trying to explain why heels will never be out to Jensen but all he hears is white noise.
All he can do is lift up one finger and slowly trace the seam of Jared's panties while no one is looking. He hopes.
Jared turns to face him, both arms slung around his neck now, and he smiles. Jared leans in to place a feather-light kiss to Jensen's cheek, and Jensen stands up so fast he nearly knocks Jared down.
"Anyone hungry? I'm starving!" Jensen practically shouts, making a beeline for the kitchen.
Tom looks up at him, giving a shrug. "I'm good with the kettle corn."
Jensen peers back into the sitting room, and sees Jared lick his lips and give Jensen a look, and Jensen shouts: "Hot wings! No guys' night is complete without hot wings! Let me whip you up some of my special Five-Alarm Texas Whoseywhatsits wings!" Jensen shouts.
"Yes!" Chad says with a fist pump in the air, leaning over to give Mike five and clink their cocktails together. Though Chad's isn't really a cocktail, he insists on still drinking his PBR, but they're making him do it through a martini glass with a lemon twist so he doesn't break the mood.
Jensen slips easily into his intense prep-mode, tunnel vision in full effect as he chops vegetables and simultaneously goes over the contents of the fridge and pantry in order to put together his menu. Jared tells him he thinks it's leftover from the Quickfires he did while he was on the show, Jensen just insists he's always been this way.
Jensen hears Jared's heels clicking against the kitchen tile and drawing closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jared leaning against the door of the refrigerator, staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Y'know, I never knew you had some famous hot wing recipe in your repertoire," Jared says.
"I do now," Jensen answers, mouth tight and not looking up from the parsley and garlic he's chopping into a fine mince.
Jared grabs his wrist, and Jensen jerks, whipping around to glare at him. He snaps his hand back and snarls, "Jared, what the hell? I could have taken my fucking finger off!"
"Don't you point that knife at me!" Jared says, stamping his foot down.
"Don't fucking touch me when I'm mincing!"
"There goes your sex life!" Chad shouts from the living room, and the guys laugh.
Jared shuts the kitchen door and crosses his arms facing Jensen. Jensen puts the knife down on the cutting board and wipes the garlic residue on his apron. "You wanna say something?" Jensen asks.
"I wanna know what the hell your problem is with Cross-dressing Tuesday, Jensen. Why are you getting all jumpy and weird around my friends? You and Mike hang out all the time, and just because he likes to put on a wig and fake tits you're gonna ignore him?"
Jensen breathes heavy. "My problem, Jared, is not your friends dressing up like chicks, and in Chad's case, some kind of demented frat boy underwear fetishist. My problem is you all, y'know-" Jensen fights for the words. "All dressed up like sex on two legs and I can't do anything about it until your boys go home! So I'm either out there fighting the world's biggest case of corset-induced blue balls; or I'm in here making you hot wings with the hoisin sauce you like."
Jared sways a little on his feet, the quickest way to his heart has always been his love of all things made with vinegar or pork. "You-you were gonna make me the hoisin sauce?"
"If you're nice," Jensen says, turning back to the cutting board.
Jared moves closer, leaning over Jensen's shoulder to whisper in his ear. "And if I'm not?"
"Then I'm ripping you out of that corset with my teeth tonight."
Jared cocks an eyebrow. "Maybe another night." He walks back towards the door. "Y'know, I forgot that cooking was kind of like your version of a cold shower."
"Or your version of knitting," Jensen says with a smirk.
Jared points at him menacingly. "You take that to the grave, Jensen Ackles. Chad already gives me enough shit for the braided belts I do."
**
The moment the front door clicks shut, and they're finally alone in the apartment; Jensen crushes Jared's mouth against his. Jared bites down on Jensen's bottom lip and he hisses back.
"Yes?" Jared asks, innocent twinge in his voice and Jensen almost growls in response.
"Fucking kidding me, Jared. You're fucking-fuck!" Jensen's eyes roll back as Jared's hand slips down the front of his pants, grabbing his half-hard cock.
"My eyes are up here, pal," Jared teases as he wraps his other arm around Jensen's shoulder, gripping his short hair tight with his free hand.
Jensen moans and nuzzles against Jared's face. "Can't help it, love you like this, love the way your body looks. The way your ass looks; can't take my eyes off it."
"Am I giving you any ideas?" Jared says, and he nearly jumps when Jensen's hands settle firm on his backside, squeezing him.
"You could say that," Jensen whispers. "Giving me ideas of what I can do for that fine ass of yours." Jared almost laughs at that, but the look on Jensen's face. His eyes dark and set on him, all he does in response is bite the corner of his mouth and nod.
Giving Jensen's cock another playful stroke, Jared takes his hands back and pulls Jensen by the arm to the bedroom. Once inside, he kicks off the heels and Jensen starts tugging his own shirt and pants off.
Jensen's naked above him, pinning his arms down on the bed and trapping his mouth in a kiss. "Want me to leave it on? Kinky," Jared says with a wink and Jensen shakes his head.
"Want what I've been wanting to do all night, tear you out of that and fuck you raw."
Jared swallows, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slip shut. "Do it," he says, swallowing.
Jensen's hands run down his body, pulling and pressing at the ties and straps holding the garments together, running his fingers along seams and zippers.
Then he stops, and clears his throat. Jared opens one eye.
"Uhh, so how do you get this off?" Jensen asks.
Jared rolls his eyes. "Insert dick into-"
"I mean the corset, Jared!" Jensen says, voice raising an octave.
Jared sits up and starts unhooking himself. "I'm messing with you, Jensen."
Jensen frowns and starts rummaging around the bedside table for the lube and condoms, grumbling under his breath.
Jared laughs. "Don't worry, it takes some practice, but you get the hang of how these things work," Jared says, stripping himself bare naked fishnets and all.
"I told you, I'm not into wearing things like that."
"I meant next week, Jensen." Jared lays down at Jensen's side, running a finger against the curve of his pectoral muscle. "You're coming next week, right? I'm thinking of trying on the blue dress with the white leggings. And you should make us chicken fritters and salchipapas."
Jensen's mouth waters. "Just, promise me one thing, Jared?"
"Anything," Jared says.
"Tell Chad to stop calling me Peggy Sue, or I'm gonna start feeding him veggie bacon."
**
Tuesday nights aren't Jensen's poker nights anymore. Jensen asked his chef buddies if they could move them to Thursday nights, on account of the standing catering job he has on Tuesdays.
He also asked them for their favorite snack food and cocktail recipes, and whether or not they thought he could pull off an empire waist.