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“Jared,” Jensen sighs as he jiggles a very ornery toddler on his hip, “you can’t just make apple pie for Thanksgiving. There has to be pumpkin too.”
Jared glowers at him and rumbles in his throat like some annoying, jackass alpha. He slams the rolling pin down harder against the pie crust, and Jensen bites back the urge to remind him that if he rolls it to thin, it’ll break. He’d gotten Jared in a bad enough mood earlier when he told him that he couldn’t just put the dough back together and reroll it because it would turn out tough.
Although, it had been amusing to see Jared glare at a lump of flour, eggs and shortening and call it a mateless heathen, Jensen would like to finish baking the pies sometime before midnight.
“This is ridiculous,” Jared harrumphs. “We don’t even eat that much pie.”
Jensen snorts and shakes his head, “Have you see your family eat? They choke down food like ravenous wolves and whine like puppies when there aren’t any leftovers.”
“Why did we volunteer to make the pies again?” Jared asks as he delicately lifts his crust and places it in the pie dish, obviously being very careful not to tear a hole into it.
“Because your sister-in-law was going to make them otherwise, and she doesn’t understand the concept of dessert. Remember last year when she made the healthy pumpkin bake instead of pie? Remember that?”
Jared’s nose wrinkles, highlighting the smudge of flour that is on it. “I think she called it pumpkin quiche.”
“It was nasty,” Jensen reminds him.
“You’re one to talk. You lied and told her it was good,” Jared accuses.
“I grew up with her. She used to pull on my hair, of course I lied to her,” Jensen says in a cutesy tone as he sways back and forth trying to get his too tired child to cave in and go to sleep.
“Aww, poor Jensen, you got beat-up by a girl.”
“Whatever, you keep that up, and I’m not making the filling for you,” Jensen tells his mate with a superior grin.
“You already made the filling,” Jared reminds him with a triumphant smirk of his own.
“Not for the apple I didn’t. I couldn’t have the fruit turning brown on me if you kept messing the crust up. And you could make it yourself, but as I am the only person outside immediate family in possession of the Greerson’s secret family recipe for apple pie…”
Jared’s stomach grumbles almost as if on cue, and he casts a sour look over at his mate. “I hate you and your nefarious connections in this pack.”
“You love me,” Jensen contradicts him as the weight on his hip becomes heavier as the Sandman win his fight with the little wolf that is resting there.
“Mmm, you do have pretty babies I suppose,” Jared says as he comes around their kitchen island to press a gentle kiss to Jensen’s forehead and reach around him to grab the bowl of pumpkin pie mix.
“It is a miracle, given what their father looks like,” Jensen shoots back as he moves to go put their little one down for a nap.
He ignores Jared’s typical protests as he walks away, but when he comes back, he sees that Jared has stolen his spot by the counter and is calmly peeling and slicing apples.
“And what are you doing?” Jensen asks.
“I’m peeling the apples. I figured that you, being the expert and all, could roll out the dough, and by then the apples will be ready for your super secret pie recipe,” Jared tells him as he pointes at the lump of unused pie dough sitting on the counter with his paring knife.
Jensen smirks. “That’s a great plan, Jared.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in there,” Jared answers warily.
“But… those are Red Delicious apples,” Jensen says.
“And?” the confusion is plain in Jared’s voice.
“They’re the eating apples, not the pie apples. You’re going to have to start over,” Jensen replies as he walked over to the dough and starts rolling it out.
Jared grumbles and tosses the already sliced apples into a bowl and shoves them in the refrigerator.
“Aww, don’t feel bad, Baby. At least, you’re good at making werewolves,” Jensen tells him with a smug look.
Jared’s eyes rake over Jensen’s torso and linger right over the spot where his turning bite is. It’s stretched a bit now, but Jared still can’t keep his hands off of it any time that they’re naked together.
“Pervert,” Jensen admonishes, “not until we’re done baking. I’m not bringing burnt pie to dinner with a bunch of werewolves.”
“But if we did that,” Jared replies with a slow lick of his lips, “then somebody else will volunteer for pie next year, and we can go back to bringing rolls and wine.”
Jensen tears off a piece of pie dough and chucks it at Jared’s forehead. “Shut up and slice the apples.”