Jensen wakes up Thanksgiving morning to an empty bed and the wafting scent of something cooking in his apartment.

No, correction: something burning.

He rubs at his face a little, scruff scraping against his palms, and sits up, tugging on his cotton white and blue striped pajama pants. Idly scratching at the dried come on his stomach from the night before, Jensen shuffles down the hall to his hardly-used kitchen, only to find his boyfriend frantically waving a dish towel in front of his stove. A small plume of smoke rises from behind the cracked oven door.

Jensen smirks, crosses his arms and leans against the door jamb. He waits a moment longer, watching Jared's flapping, and finally clears his throat loudly. Jensen laughs when Jared spins around so fast that he nearly loses his balance.

"What in God's name are you doing to my kitchen, Jared?" he asks, straightening up to make his way over to the stove. He cracks the door and peers inside, inspecting the slightly burnt turkey that he finds within.

Jared's cheeks flush pink, the same color they flush when Jensen is buried balls deep inside of him, and his words come out in a flurry, much like the spastic waving of the dish towel in his hands. "Just... I know you wanted to go home to see your family this year but couldn't because of work and I just... I wanted this to be special since it's our first 'big' holiday together and... I think I ruined it." He settles his movements, flinging the towel over one bare shoulder before placing his hands on his lean hips. There is intense disappointment written in the lines around his mouth.

Jensen bites his lip to keep from smiling, knowing that Jared would misinterpret the grin and think that Jensen was making fun of him. In reality, he was really touched. And also, really, really head over feet for the huge man standing in his kitchen who was presently sporting little more than a scowl, a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants, and a bright red apron reading 'Do You Feel Lucky, Punk?' The apron strings were tied in a loose bow, drawing Jensen's attention to the dimpled muscle of Jared's lower back.

He presses fingertips to the spot, stroking lightly before rising up on his tiptoes and kissing Jared firmly. "Thank you," he says, hoping to convey his sincerity with the gesture. Jared's lips quirk and he peers at Jensen through the fringe of his lashes. He looks so vulnerable and young that Jensen can hardly stand it.

He tugs, undoing the strings, and pulls the apron from Jared's torso. Skating his palms over Jared's chest, Jensen grazes over the length of his obliques, thrilling at the delicious shudder of muscle until his hands come to a rest on Jared's hips.

"Tell ya what," he murmurs into the crook of Jared's neck. The flesh that kisses his lips it salty, tinged with a flavor that is distinctly Jared. "How does a breakfast of pumpkin pie sound?"

Jared runs his hands up Jensen's arms, and pulls back slightly. He's smiling and the effect is blinding. "You're gonna make punkin pie? I thought that was just your nickname for me."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "I bought it at the store. But. I happen to know how to work the toaster oven and can warm it up just fine, thankyouverymuch." He punctuates his statement with a quick squeeze of Jared's flannel covered ass.

Jared's mouth drops open in mock insult. "Are you saying I can't cook?"

"I did take the apron off ya, didn't I?"

This time, Jared's hands come off of Jensen's biceps, and he clasps them together over his heart. "And here I thought you just wanted to get your hands on my manly chest."

Jensen snorts, and places his palms flat against said chest. It is indeed manly, hard muscle rising with Jared's every breath, but Jensen knows better. He shoves Jared back towards the living room. "Speaking of manly…Isn't that damned parade on soon? I know how much you wanted to watch it. Only left me five damn notes in my locker this week."

Jared's face actually lights up like a Christmas tree and he nods. He practically skips into the living room, and Jensen watches as he flops onto the couch. Jensen busies himself with pouring the coffee Jared had made while Jared flips through the channels, apparently debating between news casters. He's just placing the store-bought pie into the toaster oven when Jared calls back to him. "I just don't get it, Jensen. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is a TRADITION. Man, we live in New York. I still don't understand why you didn't want to take me down there to see it in person."

Jensen comes into the room, balancing two mugs of coffee. He hands one to Jared and sets his own on the coffee table. "Because."

Jared creases his brow as he takes a sip from his own cup. Jensen still can't believe the guy loves it with two sugars and a ton of milk, but Jensen is sure to make it up that way for him every time. He likes to think that the little gestures mean something. No, Jensen knows they do.

Jared shifts a little as Jensen stretches out on the couch and settles his head on Jared's left thigh.

"Because is an excuse, not a reason, Jensen Ross."

Jensen huffs, fake irritation, and wiggles around on the leather a little. "Fine. MOM. The first three years I lived in the city, I worked crowd control on Thanksgiving on the parade route. The day I see a giant balloon of Garfield the freakin' cat again, up close and personal, is too soon."

"Garfield takes the most helium, you know," Jared interjects.

"Oh yeah?" Jensen knocks against Jared with his shoulder, the soft whoosh of air garnished from Jared's lungs rushing across the top of his head. Jensen just barely restrains from laughing. "And how do you know that little tid-bit of information, Encyclopedia Brown?"

"'S not my fault some of us pay attention to little details. Actually listen to the facts." Jared runs his hair through Jensen's hair. He'd told Jensen before that he thought is was adorable when it was rumpled in the mornings, sticking up every which way, soft without gel. Jensen had rolled his eyes at that too, telling Jared that he was a sap, but the slow pull of his fingers made him feel...well, yeah. It was the little things.

Jensen leans into the touch, even if doing so is practically kittenish. "Yeah, well, you keep your collection of factoids. Just don't expect me to march down to 42nd Street and plant my ass down at the butt crack of dawn. The parade and I don't get along so well."

"I'm sorry, man," Jared says, tugging lightly on the strands above Jensen's ear. "I didn't know. I'm guessing it was pretty bad, huh?"

Jensen snorts. "You have NO IDEA. And it's the tourists that are worse than anything. Give me a native New Yorker over a housewife from Minnesota and her eight screaming kids any day."

Jared hums his agreement, continuing to pet Jensen's hair. The movement lulls Jensen, the noise of the parade melting into the background as he drifts. He loves being with Jared like this, just wishes he could have this and be with his family. He rubs his cheek against Jared's flannel covered thigh and sighs. Can't have everything, he supposes.

He's finally falling asleep, the homesickness pushed away for the moment by the large, warm thigh he's resting on when he feels something poke him in the back of the head. Jensen smirks, knowing exactly what it is and opens his eyes to find... Snoopy. On the television set. Snoopy, the giant, buoyant balloon. He'd been hoping for Rockettes or maybe that hot guy from that WB show Jared was always making him watch at least to account for the massive hard on Jared was now sporting but no. It was Snoopy.

Incredulous, Jensen turns his head to look up at Jared, who just so happens to be averting his gaze, as well as out and out blushing. "Snoopy, man?" Jensen pauses, pretending to consider this new observation about his boyfriend. "Really. I mean, I knew you were kinky but... the Peanuts gang?"

Jared cuffs him on the side of the head and coughs into his free hand. "Shut up, Jen. The first girl I ever slept with... she, uh. It's just. It has good memories attached to it?"

Well damn if Jared is getting off that easy. Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Do tell, Jare."

Jared rolls his eyes before closing them. "Fine. So like, one night she got me to sneak into her room and like, her room was right next to her parents? So. Um. When she was uh…riding me, um. She made me bite down on her Snoopy pillow to keep from making any noise."

Jensen would make a snappy comeback, really, he would. Except every ounce of wit has been cleared from his mind, and he contents himself with outright peels of laughter. Jared flicks Jensen's ear, and after a few minutes, plus one decently vivid image of Jared writhing and eating the backside of a plush stuffed animal, he finally manages to get a hold of himself. His deep belly laughs fade into the occasional snicker and Jared goes back to absent-mindedly stroking and petting Jensen's hair.

The spicy aroma of pumpkin pie fills the apartment, and it all seems so normal, so quaint. Jared's pretending to focus all of his attention on the brightly colored float making it's way across the screen, trying to play off the fact that he's blazingly hard, but Jensen knows Jared's not acquiring any new facts from the TV now. There's no way he's thinking about anything but the rush of blood to his dick, and that's a point of focus that Jensen can get behind. Or in front of, as the case may be.

Jensen shifts on the couch, rolling over so his back is to the TV as he brings a hand up to cover Jared's flannel covered erection. Jared's hips shift into the touch, and now that Jensen's got his attention…

"So I guess now I know why you like petting my hair. Reminds you of something soft and furry doesn't it?"

Jared scoffs, letting his hand tense in Jensen's hair for an instant before it relaxes. "Funny stuff, wise guy. 'S the last time I tell you…"

But Jensen's graduated to grinding the heel of his hand along the line of Jared's flannel clad cock. The pressure earns him a small whimper, and Jared drops his head back onto the couch.

Jensen smiles to himself as Jared shifts more over the leather, sliding down a bit and allowing his legs to fall open. Leaning forward to rub his jaw over Jared's cock, Jensen pushes away slight annoyance when his stubble catches a little on the flannel. Jared's hand tightens again but then continues to pet and stroke as Jensen leans up a little to mouth the area right below Jared's navel, pushing the troublesome pajama pants down over Jared's cut hipbones.

Jared scratches his nails over Jensen's scalp and Jensen hisses. The sound launches Jared into a litany of filth and he mumbles growling words of encouragement, only breaking into a moan when Jensen licks a stripe up the underside of his bare, blood-filled cock. Jensen fists the base and guides the crown to his lips, trailing it over the wet expanse of his lips, painting them in pre-come.

"Fuck." Jared's eyes clench shut and simultaneously, he clenches his hand deeper in Jensen's hair.

Jensen looks up at him then. He feels wired. He knows his eyes are wide, all vestiges of sleep gone. Jared bites his lip, and Jensen smirks, also knowing that Jared is already struggling to not come right then and there. "So. Gonna pay attention to me instead of some stupid parade now?" he asks, seconds before wrapping his lips around Jared's dick and sinking down. Jared is a solid weight against his tongue, searingly hot, and Jensen splays his right hand over Jared's tense stomach, feeling the muscles twitch in time with his movements.

There's also the gentle pressure of Jared's hand sliding down to cup the nape of Jensen's neck as his hips start rocking forward into Jensen's mouth. He bumps against the back of Jensen's throat just as a marching band appears on the TV, their drumbeat pulsing. The sound echoes in Jensen's ears, and he feels as if his blood is pumping along with the beat. Jared's hips begin to match the rhythm as Jensen sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks. He can practically see stars behind his tightly closed eyelids, bright bursts of color, and he wonders if Jared feels the same.

Jared's thumb strokes along Jensen's cheek, catching on the stubble and the sensation is so vastly different from the wet slide of Jared's cock past his swollen lips. The leather of the couch is making obscene noises that rival his own, and every time Jared's hips arch into the pull of his mouth, Jensen feels his own sanity slip. Jensen runs his hand around to the small of Jared's back, fingertips dragging through the sweat pooling at the base of his spine, rolling down and spreading along the back of his thighs. Jared groans, his hand tightening briefly on Jensen's neck.

Jensen keeps glancing up at him, eyes wide and glassy, and he pulls his lips off to lick a slow, wet circle around the crown of Jared's cock. Jared sounds like he's fucking dying from the onslaught of pleasure and Jensen considers stopping now, letting Jared flip him over, fuck him open wide, bite and mark every inch of his flesh so he's marked as Jared's and only his.

But the band on the TV gets louder, picking up the tempo, and Jared chooses that instant to slip one finger into Jensen's mouth and glide it along his own shaft. He pushes forward with his hips and Jensen moans at the intrusion, relaxing and opening his throat. Jared's shaking, his thrusts erratic, and Jensen knows he's close, so he swallows around the thick head of Jared's cock and lets his throat vibrate with a low hum.

It doesn't take more than four bars for Jared to just fucking lose it, coming in salty hot spurts down Jensen's throat. Jensen swallows, breathing heavily through his nose, and pushes down his own desire as Jared quivers and moans through his orgasm.

When Jensen sits up, his head reels. It feels as if the world has spun off its axis and Jared is the focal point that will keep him grounded. He looks completely fucked out and spent, properly debauched, and Jensen has never been so hungry in all his life.

His limbs are heavy with lust and need, and he tries to smirk as he climbs into Jared's lap, pressing flush against him. There's a slick sheen of sweat on Jared's chest and the glide and friction it provides has Jensen aching with the need for more. He shoves an insistent tongue into the hot cavern of Jared's mouth, moaning when Jared kisses him back with the same fervor, pressing into him deep and hard as Jensen presses his erection against Jared's stomach.

Jensen twines his hand in Jared's hair, fingers tangling in the dark curls. He buried them deep, twisting and angling Jared's head so he can drag his wet lips down over Jared's jaw, under his chin. The heel of Jared's palm presses against Jensen's lower back, pulling him closer, giving him the friction he so desperately needs. Long fingers slide under the waist band of his pants, pulled them down so they're wrapped around the back of his thighs and Jensen could never want for more than this. Never need for someone else to instinctively know what he wants, give him every desire without request.

Jensen is spiraling out of his mind, quickly, oh-so-quickly. He furiously humps against Jared's stomach, the sweet slide of his cock over hard muscle driving him wild.

And then Jared reaches up and shoves two fingers into Jensen's open mouth. Jensen opens his eyes, staring through the white haze that has crept into his vision at Jared. He sucks on the offered digits hard, watching the shift in Jared's expression as he nips them and swirls his tongue. Jensen knows his lips are red. They feel swollen still, bruised and bee-stung, and the slide of Jared's fingers over them and into the heat of his mouth is damn near overwhelming.

"Fucking illegal. Should….arrest you for that mouth."

Jared's panting in time with Jensen once more, and he drags his fingers back out, trails them down Jensen's spine. Jensen shivers at the cool slide along his back and he opens his mouth to moan, but Jared is crushing his lips to Jensen's, brushes past the dip of his ass. He wraps his tongue around Jensen's at the same moment that he presses his fingers up and in. Jensen gasps then, bucking up and then shoving back, totally surrounded and wrapped in one six-foot-four blanket of bliss. Jared simply grins as wide and bright as the Texas sky, and bites at Jensen's plump lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, fucking his ass with long, sure fingers.

Jensen whines low in his throat, skin glistening with sweat in the early morning sun, grinding down into Jared's lap. His one hand is still lost in Jared's hair, the other sliding over his sleek abs and chest, needing to touch, feel. Jared crooks his fingers just so inside Jensen right then and lowers his head to nip at Jen's collar bone. Jensen comes at that, right onto both their stomachs, a seeping heat that floods both of their systems. Jensen can feel the blaze of the moment in his spine, can taste and smell and feel Jared all around him, along with the wet, slick leather of Jensen's couch.

The crowd on the TV is cheering some up and coming Broadway star as Jensen collapses against Jared, both of them sweat soaked and blissed out. He burrows into Jared's neck and Jared starts to pet his hair again, peeling damp strands from the underside of his jaw. Jensen scrapes his jaw over Jared's collar bone and sighs contentedly, nuzzling Jared much like a fat, lazy cat.

And damn, but when he turns back to glance at the TV if that's not just the image he's greeted with. Fucking Garfield, floating high in the crisp New York sky. Jensen sighed, settling against Jared's chest. He felt like he could deal with Garfield and pretty much anything else that came his way. The life he had right now and the guy who was fast becoming a huge part of it made dealing a hell of a lot easier.

Read the next story in the Cop AU Verse What's a Guy Like You Doing In A Place Like This? by kashmir1