A Note From Your Professors: Giving Thanks!

…for the ones you love!

Happy Thanksgiving, Sasquatches!  As is tradition round these parts, it’s about that time for us to all around the table and say what we’re thankful for. So…here goes.

This year…

MT would like to give thanks for:

Jared Padalecki calling me a twat…by default.

No, seriously.

I received this in the post yesterday…

Lawl. Disguising yourself as a gyno, Jarrud?? Smaht bb is smaht

YES. Not only did Jared read mah delightful birthday card saying ‘Dear MT, you’re a twat’, but he approved of this message, and then fucking co-signed it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. Is he forreals?? Is he??

So I’m giving thanks for the ~twatwaffle~ that is Jared Padalecki, and his freakin’ genuinity, and his love for The School of Jensen & Jared his fans. And because really…

That is just a gift right there.

Moving on…

AJ would like to give thanks for:

Jared Padalecki’s Girlfriend Boyfriend Husband Girlfriend …yes, AGAIN.

Oh, Mr. Ackles-Padalecki, how I love your stupid face…

Srsly. What’s not to love about this man?  First of all, he’s beautiful and is incapable of being ugly…like, ever…which I also find truly and deeply disturbing:

He’s anatomically perfect…

I know, I know…just imagine they’re Jared’s hands. Yes.

He’s packed in his stack…

Especially in the back…

Brotha wanna thank ya motha for a butt like that…

Srsly, Donna…Sams’ Club? BJ’s? Costco? What? What store was it?

But more importantly than the physical ridiculosity of this man…

He brings out the gay cowboy in Jarrud. I approve of these shenanigans, Jensen. I brotherfucking approve. *sigh* They’re so brokeback…

Srsly, you two…just get married already. Srsly.

And seeing as how we’re both grateful for the neverending supply of porny thoughts that these two boys in love provoke…it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without spreading the epic love.  So, here, have some schmoopy goodness. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!…

Rough Draft:

Title: Rough Draft
Author: bitterspledor
Pairing: RPS, Jared/Jensen
Word count: ~1400
Summary: When Jensen kisses Jared, it isn’t at all part of any plan.

Why you should read it:

Jensen has always sort of liked Jared that way.

It was this thing at the back of his mind, like an old song he knew the lyrics to by heart. He didn’t sing it out loud all the time, but he knew the words, knew the ups and the downs of the melody, always, he knew.

As ridiculous as it sounds, from the moment they met, Jensen knew that Jared was somehow going to be this important thing. Jensen didn’t build a diagram around the idea of it, didn’t go about actively wondering how to make Jared feel the same way. It was just this random thought that required no grand scheme, unlike everything else, and Jensen lived with that.

–

Jared gets Jensen one of those old school organizers. It’s black and the bulky kind, a lot like John Winchester’s journal, only this one isn’t overflowing with pages just yet.

Jared probably meant it as a joke, but Jensen stares at it for a bit too long and realizes that if it were a joke, the moment in which he should have laughed had passed.

He looks up and sees Jared grinning. “You like it?” he asks, eager. “You’re always writing stuff down on random pieces of paper, so maybe this’ll keep things all nice and organized.”

“It’s an organizer,” Jensen says wisely.

“Exactly,” Jared laughs. “And since you’re like, eighty-five or something, I didn’t think you could deal with the whole technology thing, so there.”

Jensen hits him with it, none too lightly, but he’s smiling. “Thanks, man.”

–

When Jensen kisses Jared, it isn’t at all part of any plan. It’s just that it’s been a long day, and they’re both tired and Jared looks pliant and loose and Jensen feels a haze of daring wash over him, this strange impulse to just do something, despite it being not on his list of things to do.

Jensen chuckles at the thought of putting that on his to-do list: Kiss him.

He does, not really thinking, pressing his lips lightly against Jared’s; a try. Jared’s eyes widen, and Jensen thinks Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was a huge mistake after all, and God, he should have planned this through, should’ve thought it out and questioned it over and over and over.

Then Jared opens his mouth and kisses him back and his hands are on Jensen’s hips and pulling him closer, and maybe it is okay. Maybe it’s more than okay, but the fast sinking 2-second old worry in his gut is enough to frighten Jensen into promising himself not to do anything stupid like that again.

It was stupid but maybe this time it’s okay.

Then Jared’s tongue is in his mouth, and Jensen loses track of all thought.

–

Jared had apparently already filled Jensen’s organizer with random tasks prior to giving it to him.

On Sunday, 10:00 AM, it says ‘Serve Jared breakfast in bed. Pancakes, Ackles.’

Jensen just writes above the scribbles, can’t help the upturn of his lips whenever he sees the damn things.

Sometimes he surprises Jared by actually doing some of the stuff. On Wednesday, 9:00 AM, he gives the dogs a bath, and when he gets into the house, smelling of wet dog and grass, Jared pulls him by the arm and kisses him, pushes him against the kitchen counter and makes him forget what he has to do for the rest of the day.

–

“Baby,” his mother’s voice is sweet and warm, and Jensen closes his eyes for a second and thinks of home. “What are you doing these days? Aside from that big TV thing, I mean.”

Guitar Hero. Sleeping. Baking. Basketball. Walking the Dogs. With Jared.

“The usual,” Jensen says, lifting his shoulder to hold the phone so he could use both hands, “I mostly work, though, Ma. You know how it is.”

He’s flipping through mail and writing a grocery list. Someone holds the phone for him, and he relaxes his shoulder.

“Hm,” his mother says thoughtfully, “Don’t you ever think of settling down?” It’s a question she asks every single time, almost routine, and Jensen has always had his answer ready to roll off his tongue. ‘I don’t think so, not yet, maybe in a while.’

Jensen glances behind him, at Jared with his hand on the phone on Jensen’s ear, drinking his coffee with the other. He watches Jared and thinks, idly, this is his life.

“Maybe in a while,” Jensen says quietly.

Falling In and Out:

Title: Falling In and Out
Author: crackedbuthappy
Pairing/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: ≈ 6,400
Warnings/Spoilers: Behold the power of pure, unadulterated, sugary, sticky, roll-your-eyes-amount-of schmoopy future fic. With porn. And weddings. And babies. And grey hair.
Summary: Jared believes you never fall in love with the right person just once, you keep falling.

Why you should read it:

It’s seven years today and you’re both wearing matching tuxes in front of family and friends. You weren’t sure you’d ever get here, that you’d ever need to. Jensen is your one, your only, your forever. You never thought marriage was necessary to tell him that, for him to tell you.

But, here you are, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes while your mother cries in the front row and your dad tries to hold back tears. You smile softly. You got your soft side from your father, even if your mother is crying like it’s her job.

You pass a quick glance to Jensen’s mother who is holding a tissue up to her eye to keep her mascara from running down her cheeks. You have her to thank for this. Donna Ackles and one big ass Thanksgiving celebration nine months ago.

You and Jensen each wanted to spend the holiday with family. As a compromise, you rented a banquet hall and Jensen called in caterers. Padaleckis and Ackleses spilled over into the large room and filled tables with laughing and family, food and home, Texas in LA.

Halfway into you mowing down a turkey leg, Donna innocently comments on her need for grandchildren “sometime before I die, Jensen. My god. Marry the boy and make me some grandbabies, biological or not.”

Jensen nearly spit out his wine and you nearly choked on turkey. And then your mother spoke up. If Donna was outspoken, your mother put her to shame. She giggled at you, “Honestly! Jensen, marry my boy and make an honest woman out of him. What are you waiting for? A handwritten invitation from God?”

Just as a joke, you and Jensen handwrote 93 invitations, blue ink on expensive paper. Jensen’s elegant scrawl next to your chicken scratch.

You turn your attention back to your – oh god – almost husband. Jensen has started talking, reciting the vows he wrote himself.

“…And then sometimes I wish I didn’t love you so much because you’re a pain in the ass. You get toothpaste all over the sink, you leave your Sasquatch shoes in the doorway so I trip over them, you can’t sing, your breath is really bad in the morning, you don’t like scrambled eggs, and you like Britney more than Christina.

“But you know, for all your faults, I do love you. I even love them. Your faults are what you make you human, what make you imperfect, what make me want to love you more. And, I do. I love you so much it scares me sometimes, to think that one day it could all go away. I can promise you this, Jared, it will never go for me. I will always love you and take care of you and want to be with you. Even if I have to suffer through your singing in the shower after you go for a run and I’m trying to sleep or falling face first into carpet at 3 AM because I fell over your giant sneakers. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ll love you forever.”

You feel your throat closing up, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes. You curse your father and the fact that he’s a giant teddybear. You try to hold them back, but figure fuck it, it’s your wedding and you can cry if you want to. You squeeze his hands with watery eyes and shaking fingers.

You know it’s your turn, but you can’t remember what you wrote. Jensen stares at you with a soft smile before brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. He doesn’t worry about the tiny tear sliding down his cheek, completely unashamed. You open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out, you’re too overwhelmed.

Instead, you kiss his hand and say, “I’ll love you more. Also, your breath isn’t so hot either.”

When you’re kissing him moments later, you realize that you’ve never been happier. For all the times you’ve imagined were great, nothing beats this moment.

Nothing beats the moment when you fall so far again, head over feet, you know you have no chance of standing back up.

*-*

His name is Gavin and he’s your son. You picked the name and Jensen tossed in Ross. Megan calls him Gavin Rossdale, insisting that the rockstar has a much cooler name than Gavin Ross Ackles-Padalecki. It’s a fact both you and Jensen will concede to, Gavin’s name is a bitch. He’s three today and it’s been almost three months since he stumbled and giggled his way into your and Jensen’s lives. He has dark curls and dimples. You could almost believe he was biologically yours if it weren’t for the icy blue eyes.

“Dad! Dad!” he runs over when you step out of the bathroom.

You swing him around and cradle him like he’s an infant, “Did you finish all your oatmeal?”

“Almost. Hey Dad, guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s my birfday,” he whispers in your ear, as if you didn’t know already, as if he knew without being told the night before.

“Oh yeah? What does that mean?”

“It means we gotta go wake up Daddy to watch cowtoons,” he says in a serious voice, with his toddler lisp that gives you the giggles.

You toss him onto the bed where Jensen is buried in the covers. Jensen is the same as always, late to bed and late to rise. It works out well for you because Jensen is ridiculously lazy and you like to get up and get things done in the mornings, which also means time alone with your son. Then, you sleep at night when Jensen is up with him. Because another trait he picked up from you is constant movement. You don’t know where he finds the energy.

Gavin starts jumping up and down, one chubby leg on either side of Jensen’s waist. Except his little legs aren’t long enough to do it properly and he ends up smashing his bottom into Jensen’s stomach every few bounces.

You can tell the exact moment Jensen gives up on sleep. He twists and grabs the toddler before Gavin knows what hit him. With his eyes closed, Jensen holds him up and croaks out, voice heavy with sleep, “Who’s bouncing on me? Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Gabbin, Daddy!” he shrieks out with laughter when Jensen’s careful hands bring him down and start to tickle.

“Gavin? Who’s Gavin?” Jensen cracks open one, green eye and arches a brow.

Gavin wiggles and giggles under your husband’s fingers, “Your baby! You’re my daddy! Guess what!” His little voice makes it sound like he’s saying “yo” instead of “your” and you crack up again. He never fails to amuse you.

“What?” Jensen has both eyes open now, sitting with Gavin on his lap, a hand tangling through dark hair.

“It’s my birfday. I’m thwee.”

“Three, you say? Birthday, you say?” Jensen pretends to look shocked. “You know what this means? Presents!”

Gavin matches his face perfectly, “Pwesents!”

“Sure thing, little man. But, you gotta give me a minute alone with Dad. He didn’t want to get you anything!”

Gavin shakes his head and his finger, knowing Jensen well enough by now to know that look on his face means he’s kidding, “You fib, Daddy.”

“I fib. But seriously, give me and your other dad a few minutes and we’ll bring all your presents out and you can open them. Then, we’ll drive down to Grandma’s and she has presents, too!”

“Wow, I like birfdays,” Gavin says earnestly to your laughter, while he climbs off the bed and disappears into the living room.

Jensen pulls you down next to him and kisses the end of your nose, “We picked a good kid.”

“Sure did,” you kiss his mouth, simple and sweet. You whisper against his lips, “Kind of makes me want another one.”

You fall in love again when all he does is whisper to you, “Just say when.”

DISCLAIMER: YOUR TURN, KIDS! TELL US WHAT YOU’RE THANKFUL FOR! DO IT! DO IT NAO!