Easy As Pie

Fandom: CW RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: pumpkin
Comments: This is for wendy, who asked for more Big Bang schmoop. And I think I'm allowed to say now that the artists have chosen--my BB is called Last Stop: Chicagoland, so we can consider this part of Chicagoland. But it takes place long before that story, and you don't need to know anything about it for the purposes of this.



Jared officially and completely hates Thanksgiving. First off, because he's pretty sure it's a holiday based on the oppression and genocide of an indigenous people which is, you know, a seriously bad thing, but secondly, because he totally sucks at baking. Which, okay, possibly a very secondary reason to hate Thanksgiving, but seriously, it didn't look this hard when his mom made pies when he was a kid. He definitely remembers her singing in the kitchen, cheerful and barefoot and flour everywhere, and he'd sneak bits of apple from her giant bowl and she'd blow flour in his face. Apparently, however, Jared hasn't inherited her awesome pie-making ability.

"Jared, honey, I don't know what to tell you." Her voice sounds faintly amused on the other end of the line, which Jared ignores because he's in a pie crisis, damnit, and Jensen will be here in an hour with turkey and everything, and if they don't have pie, that will suck a lot and Jensen will think he's retarded for not being able to even bake a simple pie. Jared doesn't want Jensen thinking he's retarded. Jared wants Jensen to think he's hot and smart and sexy and that also, they should have lots of sex. And pie, he thinks, will definitely help convince Jensen of the matter.

Jensen really, really likes pie.

"It's just. It's all gloppy and lumpy and weird and I can't figure out what I did wrong!" Jared stares at the pie. It's orange, like pumpkin pie, and that's pretty much where the resemblance stops. There are actual chunks in it. Jared can't even figure out what went into the pie that could possibly turn out chunky, and yet there they are: serious chunks. It looks sort of like vomit, actually. Pizza vomit. Jared pokes at it and watches it jiggle weirdly. So gross.

His mom hmmms and Jared can hear her flipping through her recipe book. She's got all her recipes handwritten on note cards in her tiny, precise writing, and suddenly, Jared misses home. He misses home a lot. He hates that he's in Vancouver and there's snow on the ground and it's freezing outside. Back home it'd be in the fifties and they'd play football in the streetlights after dinner. But Jensen is here, which maybe makes up for it. Jensen is here, and Jared thinks, well. There's something there and it's not unimportant. He'd rather be with Jensen. It's their first Thanksgiving as a—as whatever it is they are, and that definitely means something.

But not, Jared thinks, if his pie still looks like throw up by the time Jensen gets here. "Mom, come on. I need to fix this now. People are coming over and they're going to think I'm an idiot who can't bake."

"Well…" his mom says, and Jared frowns. When your own mom thinks you're an idiot, that's probably a bad sign, right? "Jared, sweetie, I just can't figure out what you could've done. Did you use store-bought filling?"

"No. I, uh. Because I wanted to make sure that, um, everyone could eat it and I wanted it to be organic and things so I made it with tofu instead—"

"What kind of tofu?" his mom interrupts. She sounds offended at the mere mention of the substance, like tofu is an affront to the lord. Probably in her world, it is.

"Uh, just tofu? Are there different kinds? I just got a package at the store."

She laughs. She laughs loud, for a really long time, which is pretty annoying. "Baby, you should just go out and buy a pie. You were supposed to use silken tofu. Did you—" She pauses to laugh some more. She's laughing at him, which is so not cool. She's supposed to be his mom. Moms do not laugh at their children's honest mistakes. Who knew there were different kinds of tofu? Jared barely knows what tofu is in the first place. It's made of beets or something, he thinks. Or, no, maybe carrots. Carrots gone bad. Something weird like that. His mom stops laughing finally, long enough to ask, "Did you the tofu you used come in blocks?"

"I don't know if I should answer that," Jared says. "Are you just going to laugh at me some more?"

"Yes," she says.

"I have to go now, mom," he says. "Have a great Thanksgiving and thanks for being a whole lot of no help."

*

Jared doesn't have time to go buy a pie. He doesn't even have time to hide the fucked up wrong tofu pie he made because Jensen walks into the house yelling for Jared to come help him carry shit. Jensen cooked an awesome turkey ("I got it off this farm, man, totally organic, vegetarian-fed and I actually got to see where they keep the birds, in this huge ass field. Those turkeys have a better life than I do, dude.") and some sort of bean casserole thing, and brought the leftover macaroni and cheese from the staff celebration the day before. They get everything settled on the kitchen table and Jared's digging through his cupboard trying to find the cranberry sauce when Jensen notices the pie.

"Dude. What the hell is that?"

"Um," says Jared weakly, trying very hard not to blush. He sticks his head further into the cupboard and spots the sauce right away, but pretends to rummage for a while. He really doesn't want to talk about his failure as a pie-maker even more. It's pretty pathetic, it's seriously pathetic, actually, but he just. He wanted to do something nice for Jensen and he failed and that sucks, so. Yeah.

Jared can feel the air shifting a little and then Jensen's behind him, a warm hand on Jared's hip, turning him around. Jared snags the cranberry sauce and faces Jensen even though he knows he's blushing and he feels like an idiot.

"You tried to make a pie?" Jensen says, lips quirking up in a half-smile.

Jared holds up the can of sauce. "I used the wrong kind of tofu," Jared says. "But dude, how was I supposed to know there are like, different kinds of tofu?"

"Jared, you don't even eat tofu. Why would you—wait. Is it. It's for me?" Jared nods and doesn't meet Jensen's eyes because he's an idiot who doesn't know about tofu and organic shit and he just eats what's put in front of him or whatever comes out of the box, so. But Jensen's all into that health food shit and Jared wanted to try, he really wanted to make it special and instead he made it look like vomit. Like cat vomit, even.

"Yeah," Jared says finally. "But, uh, we're not going to eat it. I don't even want to think about what it tastes like. It looks like vomit."

"It does," Jensen says, grinning. "It looks like the vomit you get after you eat too much pizza and then drink too much tequila." His fingers tighten around Jared's waist. They're standing very close now. Not touching, just real close, sharing body heat. Jensen's eyelashes look about a million miles long from here. He's pretty, Jared thinks. He's really pretty, but he's not going to say that to Jensen.

"I have, um. I have cranberry sauce." Jared says it like a question, holding the can up a little so Jensen can see. "Can't really screw that up, right?"

Jensen just smiles, takes the can from Jared's hand and sets it on the table behind him. Leans up and kisses Jared once, soft, then again, harder. He pushes Jared up against the counter, mouth sliding across Jared's jaw, down his neck, quick little bites and licks that leave Jared instantly hard. It's pretty much Jensen's secret talent—making Jared instantly hard—and sometimes Jared suspects witchcraft is involved. Witchcraft on his dick, which is pretty weird to think about, but he's not about to start complaining because yes. He almost manages to forget about the pie with Jensen all rubbing against him and fumbling with his belt, but he can see it over Jensen's shoulder, gross and vomitty and weirdly chunky. But then he's distracted from the pie mess by Jensen slipping to his knees and tugging Jared's pants open, reaching inside for Jared's dick.

"Not that I'm complaining," Jared gasps out, watching while Jensen licks his lips and wraps his hand around Jared's dick. He shudders at the feel of it, at the quick swipe of Jensen's tongue at the head. "God, Jensen. What. Uh. What about dinner?"

"Dinner can wait," Jensen says, grinning. "I have to thank you for the pie."

*

Links: Table of Contents | Last Stop: Chicagoland, Part 1