Work Text:
Jared is having a sucky morning. First, he'd overslept, and then he realized he'd forgotten to wash his favorite work shirt, so he has to put on his second favorite work shirt which is just a hair too small and while that doesn't bother him so much, sometimes it makes Mrs. O'Dell look at him with a scary level of cougar-eyes when she comes in for her mid-morning mocha. Then, because of the oversleeping thing, he skips breakfast, which isn't, you know, that big of a deal, since he works at a coffee shop that sells the best breakfast pastries in town, but at his height, he really can't afford to not eat. It tends to end with him feeling like he's going to keel over if he doesn't get an infusion of calories.
So he's starving, and late, and wearing a too-small t-shirt, and then he discovers his bike has a flat tire.
"Perfect, just perfect."
Since he's already going to be late for his shift at The Fix, he decides to walk to work. That way he'll at least get to enjoy the sensation of the warm mid-June morning sun before he's stuck inside for the rest of the day.
He usually bikes the half mile on a very specific route that keeps him off the most dangerous of the city's streets, car-wise, but today he takes a more direct pedestrian route. He's in the middle of Roberts, about to cross over and head for Fourth, when he sees it. The tiny storefront has a wooden shingle hanging out front, and a couple of weathered chairs around a metal cafe table in front of the plate glass window.
Jen's Jams is inscribed on the sign. Jared takes an immediate detour.
He pushes open the door to the small shop, a bell jingling merrily to announce his presence. He takes everything in at once, from the tidy shelves full of familiar jars of jam, to the scent of honey in the air, to the charming vase of sunflowers on the counter next to the old-fashioned cash register.
A young woman emerges from the back, wearing a green apron that matched the green label on every jar of Jen's Jams.
"Can I help you?" she asks, her smile wide and friendly.
"I had no idea you were a local company," Jared says. "I didn't even know this store was here."
"Oh, yeah, going on two years now," she says with a smile. "Why, you like our jam?"
"I love it," Jared says. "Are you Jen?"
The woman laughs. "Hardly. I can't boil water. I'm Danni. No, Jen's in the back."
Jared grins. "I'm Jared. It's so cool there's an actual Jen. I guess I thought maybe someone made up the name just to be alliterative."
"Oh no, Jen's real," Danni says. Then she raises her voice, "Hey Jen, need you on the floor!" to Jared, she says, "You want to try a new flavor? Pear Cardamom."
"Yes, please," Jared says, accepting a tiny sliver of cracker with a dollop of golden jam on top. He closes his eyes as the flavor explodes on his tongue. He tastes the pear, of course, and the cardamom, too, with a hint of something else. "Is that vanilla?" He opens his eyes. Standing next to Danni is a man regarding him with a frown. A handsome man. A rather ridiculously handsome man whose bottle-green eyes match Danni's apron and the Jen's Jams jars.
"Jen, this is Jared. He's a fan of your jam." Danni's grin is sly.
"You’re Jen?" Jared runs his hand over his mouth, just to make sure there are no embarrassing crumbs left after his sample tasting. "I eat you every morning. I mean, I eat your jam every morning." A blush rises to his cheeks as Jen's frown deepens.
"Jensen," the man says shortly. "How did you know there was vanilla in the Pear Cardamom?"
"Jensen," Jared repeats, feeling the name out, liking the weight of it on his tongue. "Uh, I just got a hint of it; it's really subtle."
"Yeah, so subtle I didn't think anyone would pick up on it." Jensen's voice is smooth and deep, like his cranberry relish jam. His lips are pink and overly defined, like his pink marmalade with the shredded blood orange pieces.
"Well, I did," Jared says, almost proudly.
"Remarkable," Jensen says. "Can I ask you a favor, Jared?"
The fact that he's extremely late for work at this point doesn't even occur to Jared as he nods. Jared would do pretty much anything the handsome, jam-making man asked.
"Come taste this new batch. I'm working on something new." Jensen jerks a hand toward the back.
"Now?"
"Yeah, now." Jensen smiles and Jared finds himself walking toward him as if drawn by a very kissable magnet.
"Okay."
Danni lifts up the pass-through counter so Jared can get to the back, and winks at him as he follows Jensen to the kitchen area behind the storefront. It's hot back there, almost steamy, with industrial-grade canning processors on one side of the room and a huge, multi-burner range on the other. There's a cauldron, for lack of a better word, steaming on a burner. The air smells of sage and honey. Jensen dips a clean wooden spoon into the cauldron and brings it out dripping red. He blows on it, pursing those unfairly lovely lips and making Jared wonder if Jensen would taste like jam. Then Jensen passes the spoon to Jared. "Careful, it's hot."
"You want to tell me what it is?"
"Taste it first. I want your opinion."
Jared darts his tongue out to test the temperature. Is it his imagination or do Jensen's eyes darken at that? When he determines the jam to be acceptably warm, he brings the spoon to his lips, sucks. He tastes the strawberry right away, bright and sweet, then the caramel flavor of the honey, followed by the herbal note of sage.
"It's delicious," he says. "I can taste the sage, the honey. But it's missing something…" Jared licks again, looking for the hole in the flavor. "The sage is kind of gamey. Maybe you need something floral to balance it out? Like lavender, or—"
"Rose!" Jensen speaks first.
"Yes, exactly, rose!" Jared smiles.
Jensen goes to a cooler, brings out a handful of leaves. "These are rose geranium leaves," he explains. Jared watches, fascinated, as Jensen sweeps the leaves through the hot batch of jam, swirling them around once, twice, three times, then pulls them out again, now shining wetly, before discarding them to the side. "Try again," he instructs, producing another tasting spoon.
This time, he carries the spoon to Jared, holds it up for him, so Jared has to tilt his chin down and open his mouth. Jensen feeds him the jam, carefully, calmly, even as his eyes never leave Jared's mouth. Jared licks his lips, chasing the flavor after Jensen pulls back.
"Better?" Jensen asks.
"Amazing. I can't believe you invented something so insanely delicious."
Jared's praise makes Jensen fairly glow. "Thanks for your help. Maybe I should hire you as my official taster."
"Hey, I'd work for jam," Jared jokes.
"Let me give you a jar, on the house." Jensen reaches past Jared to a shelf behind him, grabs a jar. He pulls a marker out of the back pocket of his jeans, scribbles something on the label, then hands it to Jared with a shy smile.
"What's this?" Jared asks, examining the numbers on the label.
"This is my latest creation—Blueberry Gin Jam," Jensen says softly, "and that is my phone number. Just in case you want to set up another tasting sometime."
Jared grins, leans in to press a quick kiss to Jensen's perfect mouth. Just as he thought—Jensen tastes like strawberries and sex. "I'd like to taste every inch of you," he whispers.
Jensen's cheeks are red and his eyes creased with happy crinkles when Jared pulls away. "That can be arranged."