Sugar and Spice, PG-13, JA/JP

[ht_murray]

Title: Sugar and Spice
Author: tru_faith_lost
Genre/Pairings: Jensen/Jared, RPS, established relationship
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: schmoop, m/m sexual contact
Summary A moment in time fic. They're all tired, but she cries. Babies do that. She's good for them. Really good.
Disclaimer: No disrespect or harm intended. No money being made.
A/N: For the birthday of the wonderful rejeneration. So proud and blessed to call you friend, love. She posted this pic in her journal awhile back, and I told her it made me want to write baby fic. She encouraged me, as she always does, and this is what became of it. I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, and I forgot her name. *blush* But I hope it works. Happy, happy birthday!







Sugar and Spice


February 15, 2008


She cries a little. Babies do that, even when everyone’s dog tired and just home from a long day on set, minds blank to anything but the draw of smooth linen and down pillows. She cries. A hiccup, a gurgle, something wet, and bubbly, and hesitant. Though he can’t see from the door, Jared pictures the expression exactly--huge open frown and deep, watery eyes, torn between screaming and wonder.

     Jensen’s unfazed and softens everywhere except around his eyes where he crinkles like the edges of a warm blanket. She squirms under his fingertips before giving in and settling under the weight of his hand on her stomach. Her tiny heels stop their digging into the changing table, little toes curl and uncurl as Jen brushes the backs of his fingers across the soles. He kisses one then the other and blows razzberries against the translucent skin until she bops him on the nose with her waving hand.

     He laughs the way he used only to laugh for Jared.

     From where he stands, watching, Jared doesn’t see anything but the smooth of Jensen’s forehead and the freckles chased out of old worry lines by the amber lamplight reflecting in her eyes. That’s his smile Jensen gives her, and Jared’s more than happy to share. She’s too small, now, to smile back, but when she does...

     He’s got a camera in every room, just in case.

     "You got her?"

     Only Jensen’s eyebrow jumps when Jared speaks from behind him. "Yeah. Yeah, I got her. You go on to bed. You look ready to pass out." No truer words were ever spoken. "I’ll be there in a little while." If Jared had snuck up on him like that just a few months ago, before she came, well, something would probably have been broken. There’d have been a Jensen shaped hole in the wall or a Jared shaped hole in the door. Now he only gets an eyebrow twitch, not even a glare as Jensen shifts subconsciously to protect her. She’s good for Jen, good for them.

     Jared shakes his head in wonder at the way the charm on Dean’s necklace barely bobs, how she lies beneath it and watches it like the world’s most fascinating mobile. Since she took a liking to it, Jensen doesn’t take it off, not ever. Jared thinks he may be more attached to it than Dean himself. It dangles from his neck, gentle swing timed to the up and down of her tummy and the sweep of his eyelashes as he looks down on her in adoration.

     Jared starts to turn away but ends up with his shoulder pressed into the door frame, his head tipped to the side, no more capable of looking away than Jensen is of letting go. Jared blinks his bleary eyes, finds the lids heavier than he remembers but not so heavy as to keep him from watching and smiling when Jensen lifts her off the table, his hand gentle behind her wide-eyed head. Her hand finds his lips and he sucks the whole thing into his mouth with a mock snarl, before huffing it back out. "Eat you up," he coos. "I’m’a eat you up." He makes a game of waving her arm around and chasing it with his open mouth, stops suddenly just to cock an eyebrow over his shoulder. "Say, night-night, Daddy," he teases, and waves her hand goodbye, bouncing gently.

     "Night-night, munchkin," Jared yawns, rubbing at the knot in his neck. "Don’t keep your father up too late. Daddy might get jealous." Then to Jensen, "Save some of that sugar for me, huh?" Wishful thinking on his part. This honeybee couldn’t find a blossom in a cherry tree the way he feels, but sometimes waving his proboscis around, if only in his unrealized plans, is necessary to prove to himself he still has it.

     "Always do." It’s true. Jen always does, which is why Jared’s okay meandering down the hall to bed and leaving his two favorite people to some quiet time together.

     He still has half a mind to wait up for Jen, the half that’s in his pants, but as soon as he tosses his shirts in the hamper and sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes, the circulation to that half of his mind gets cut off. From down the hall, Jensen’s voice croons the lilted strains of an Aerosmith song.

     Maybe her name’s Angel, too. They don’t know yet. She hasn’t told them.

     The lullaby is too much for Jared, and the next thing he feels is a tug on his leg and carpet between his toes. He cracks one eye to find Jensen pulling off his socks, having already slept through the removal of his shoes. He wants to smile and make a wise crack, but doesn’t have one, and Jen apparently doesn’t know he’s awake, as he foregoes the usual sock removal comment about jungle rot.

     Instead, Jen kisses him once on the pad of his big toe and lowers the foot into the carpet, his hand palming the back of Jared’s calf with just the right amount of soft and firm. He rubs up and down a few times, uncrinkling the denim from behind Jared’s knees and is on his way up the thighs before he realizes he’s being watched.

     Meeting Jared’s eyes with that same soft look he uses when she’s fussy and way too tired to sleep, Jensen kisses each of Jared’s knees and slides up between them to undo the jeans. "I gotcha. Go on back to sleep. ‘Ts been a long day."

     It has, and Jared would. God, he wants to, but everything about Jensen is sugar -- sweet and melty-- everything, after he’s been with her.

     Jared’s tired but wouldn’t mind a sip of honey, just a sip.

     Wouldn’t want his proboscis to dry up and fall off.

     That’s not funny. So not funny. Except he just thought it. His own wise-ass, barely conscious mind is playing word games, his favorite kind next to video, and even he is not amused. Tired, exhausted, groggy, drained, and...er, limp. Yes, limp. He hates limp.

     "Lift up." Jared does, his chin lolling over his sternum as he tries to look down at Jensen’s hands where they tug at his unfastened jeans. "Your hips, Jay. Lift your ass so I can get your jeans."

     Yeah, that makes sense. Easier said than done, though. Kinda goes with being limp. He runs a hand over his face, back and forth few times over his eyes and up through his hair. He’s really gotta stop using that word. Scratch and slide, the zipper only catches one stray hair from a nether region that obviously needs more careful grooming, and then the jeans are gone, just Jensen’s warm hands. Warm hands kneading at the tangled manes of charley horses under his skin, soft thumbs up into the groove of his hips, stroking. Jensen’s breath is hot along the side of Jared’s knee and precedes...

     "Hey!"

     a hey, hey...tomorrow’s just a future yesterday...

     His eyes pop open as Jen’s scruffy cheek scrapes along his inner thigh, and Craig Ferguson’s in the television on the far side of the room doing one of his up close and personal face to camera shots. Jared’s heart knocks against his chest in a feeble attempt to pump enough blood into his extremities to either reach the remote and change the channel or...another rub of stubble...never mind. "Shut that shit off and get up here," he mumbles without opening his eyes.

     "Shhhhh, shhhh."

     The bed dips, and Jared wishes for an air mattress and a quiet lake, even just a nice Texas tank, hand-fed catfish nibbling at his...toes...

     Jen’s hand moves higher, slow small circles, and higher, around to his waist, tightens just a little as Jensen coaxes him farther up the bed. Jared manages to engage his legs enough to scooch up to the pillows. Jensen’s hand tightens, loosens, tightens, rubs, and maneuvers him over and back against Jen’s bare chest. Jared lets his head fall back into the notch of Jensen’s neck and shoulder as breath puffs into his hair.

     One hand continues soft circles over his stomach, and the other disappears a second before the night stand wobbles against the wall. A drawer slides open. Jared recognizes the smell. Lavendar. Lavendar baby lotion. They got it to help her sleep, but she never liked it half as much as Jared.

     "Mmm." It’s mumbled against the divot above Jensen’s collar bone. "Trying to spice things up in the bedroom, Jen?"

     "It’s lavendar," Jensen corrects, smoothing it over Jared’s stomach and down, down...whattaya know? Not limp, after all. "It’s an herb. Not a spice. Now hush." Less talk. Less talk is good. A kiss against his temporal bone, warm and tingling between the long hair, is all the convincing Jared needs, not much blood flowing through his upstairs brain anyway. He sighs and lets his nose fall against Jensen’s pulse point.

     It doesn’t take long. Jen knows him, just what he likes, what he needs to slide over that edge he’s been teetering over for too long. It’s slow, but deliberate, gentle where it needs to be and firm where it counts, and Jared barely tenses when the white wall drops behind his eyes and fades to black.

     He’s almost gone, just a little fizz still left between his brain and his skull. The hairs in his nose twitch one last time, honing in on the soft vapor of baby powder as Jen wipes him clean, always a tub of baby wipes at hand. She’s made her way into every crack in their lives, every private corner. She’s good for them.

     "Don’t you dare drool. I can’t reach the burp pad."

     Jared would laugh, but he’s too damned content. This is nice. Everything nice.

     Jensen’s arms tighten and slide them both down into the one dip in the bed that started out as two. Yeah...nice. Jensen’s humming when Jared falls asleep.

The End