Hockey Night in Canada

Fandom: Supernatural RPF

Category/Rated: Slash, PG13

Year/Length: 2010/4392 words

Pairing: Jared/Jensen

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.

Author's Notes: Written for the 2010 round of spn_j2_xmas for daisiesdaily, for your prompt: "The One with the Football" (Friends episode)--turn it into a J2 Thanksgiving with friends. and since there is bonus Matt Cohen in there, you will love me forever. I had never seen "Friends," so I had to go find the episode you wanted and watch it, and then try to work out how to adapt it. I really hope it works for you, honey!

Beta: Beta by the very lovely marys-scribbles

It was snowing.

The temperature had plummeted in the past 24 hours, and it was way below freezing point as Phil finally called 'cut' and released the cast from their misery. It was 2am on the morning of Wednesday, November 25th, and the snow had already covered the world in white.

The snow was coming down fast, great, white flakes whirling in the sharp wind to drift up against the wall of the tumbledown shack where they'd been filming. Emerging from the cocoon of warmth that had been provided by the arc lamps, Jared gave a crow of excitement and bent to scoop up a handful of the white powder, turning with a beaming smile to the man that was right behind him.

"Hey, Misha? You cold?" He didn't wait for an answer. Jensen, who was following Misha out, had already taken his cue and grabbed the unfortunate angel's shoulders. He held him steady while Jared administered the snowball, stuffing it down the neck of the man's open collar while Misha cursed good naturedly.

"You're a child, Padalecki - an overgrown, brainless child with a mental age of six."

Richard Speight had emerged from the set, clutching his jacket around him. He watched approvingly as Jared ignored Misha's words in favor of pelting Jensen with snow and snickered.

Jensen snorted. "Six, eh? I'd have said four."

"Oh, it's on, Ackles! Just wait ‘til we get home." Jared pointed at his colleague and frequent partner in crime and gave him an evil grin before turning around to look for their transport back to the city.

Mark Sheppard had been standing in the doorway, watching them with amusement, but now he stepped forward. "It's looking a little dodgy, folks." He checked his watch. "This doesn't seem to be showing any sign of stopping."

"Where's the road gone?" Jensen had ventured out into the snow, and was turning around and around, trying to remember from which direction the transport would come. "And where's Clif?"

Lights in the distance heralded the arrival of the SUV. As it slowly approached through the blizzard, Jensen took advantage of the distraction to throw a snowball that caught Jared behind his ear and exploded in a burst of powder that glittered in the arc lights as it fell to earth.

Jared gave a snarl of "Motherfucker!" and began scooping up snow, while Misha gazed into the storm, rapt as he watched the dance of the flakes above. "My mom used to call them nightbirds," he mused. "You know, those big white flakes that don't follow the rest." He was standing with his face turned up so that the snow landed on it to melt on his cheeks and cling to his eyebrows. "I think we're stranded here for the rest of winter. Pretty soon we will be forced to eat each other, and there will be mourning in the spring when they find us again, our poor skeletons ravaged by the elements. It will be survival of the..." He was silenced by a deftly thrown snowball that caught him with his mouth open and sent him spluttering, while Jared and Jensen crowed with laughter and high fived each other.

"God, you guys are such children." Matt Cohen had emerged from the warmth of the set, and was pulling up his hood to add another layer against the wind. "Doesn't look like we're going to get back to LA tomorrow though, unless there's a freakish change in the weather."

"Oh, great." Mark frowned. "There goes the turkey and pumpkin pie."

"Come home with us." Jared, tired of pelting the now snow covered Misha, had returned to the comparative shelter of the cabin doorway. Now he was grinning wildly, in the throes of planning a party.

"Dude, we don't have any groceries in. We were going home for the week, remember?" Jensen had come up behind him and was looking worried. "Not that you guys aren't welcome, but we're not really set up for a party. Hope you don't mind."

"Don't worry about it, Jen. I've got a plan." The words had an ominous ring to them, but the general consensus was that they would all go to Jensen and Jared's place for what Misha called a slumber party until Jared threatened to roll him in the snow.

The ride back into Vancouver was a slow, slow progression through the driving blizzard, and by the time they arrived on the street where Jensen and Jared lived, it was almost 5am. "There's six of us, and three beds." Jared suppressed a yawn as he looked around at the rest.

"There's a couple of couches too," added Jensen. "Feel free to spread yourselves. You'll find blankets in the cupboard in the hallway if you decide on the couch. I don't intend to get up until at least noon, so sleep well, guys."

With that, Jensen turned and headed up the stairs to the room he and Jared would share, and Jared bit his lips as he watched him go, knowing that just for this night he would lie next to him and wishing that he could look forward to sleeping beside Jensen forever.

It was a little after 1pm when Jared finally rolled out of bed and stumbled downstairs to start making arrangements. A brief discussion with the staff at the Sutton Place hotel and a credit card number ensured that the group of them would not go hungry. Richard was already up, and the two of them swiftly agreed that he would go to buy groceries. The snow was still coming down fast, and by Jared's calculations was now at least three feet deep. Outside, he could see a bunch of teens busily shoveling out a portion of the cul-de-sac, and as he watched, they set up a couple of goals in their cleared area, and began to play, sprinting and jockeying in a spirited game of street hockey.

After Richard had set off, he watched them for around five minutes and then turned to make his way into the kitchen where he set the coffee maker up to create a Jensen reviver.

Back in the bedroom, Jensen was cocooned in the bedclothes with only the top of his head visible. Jared stood looking down at him, not bothering to disguise the love in his eyes and then bent to press a kiss to his hair before standing back to assess the situation. After mature consideration, knowing how Jensen behaved when woken up, he decided to send the dogs in first, watching with approval as Sadie flopped down on Jensen's mid-section, and Harley snuffled into the blankets to lick him awake.

He stood well away from the bed, a smirk on his face as he waited for the inevitable explosion. Sure enough, right on cue, there was a spluttering growl and Jensen erupted from the warmth of his cocoon, bed-warmed and sleepy, his face flushed and irritated.

"You bastard!"

Grinning, Jared held out the mug of coffee and watched as it was seized and brought to plush lips, where it was attacked avidly. "We've got guests," he told Jensen. "Come help me forage for breakfast. I already took care of dinner."

Jensen lowered his cup momentarily. "What do you mean, you took care of dinner? You can't cook, even if we had a turkey for you to desecrate."

"You'll see. It's gonna be awesome." Jared smiled, wide and white. "Have a little faith, dude. Would I ever let you down?"

"We'll see," said Jensen, darkly, knocking back the last of his coffee. "So, are they all still sleeping, or what?"

"Richard's up. I sent him off through the alley to the 7-11 for some groceries. "Jared watched in appreciation as Jensen began to dress himself, pulling on underwear and jeans, and then rooting through the drawer for a thick cashmere sweater. "I'm hoping he'll be back shortly, so we can make some grub for the throng."

"Yeah." Jensen blinked and gazed sorrowfully into his cup, and then made for the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

Richard had returned, snow encrusted but triumphant, and brought with him the milk, eggs and sausages that were required to provide six hungry men with breakfast. One by one the others had emerged from their sleeping quarters, and Jensen had busied himself cooking the provisions for which Richard had braved the elements.

"The airport is still closed." Jared, who had inhaled his breakfast at almost the speed of sound, had been checking flights on his laptop, and shook his head sadly. "Don't think there's much chance of us getting out today at all. Guess we're having a party right here, which is just as well, since I've got dinner all organized.

Jensen, who was just sitting down to eat, having fed everyone else, gave Misha a lopsided grin. "Be afraid, dude," he murmured, and Misha favored him with a long, appraising stare.

"Your chi is all distorted, Jen," he said. "You need to regroup, meditate and think beautiful thoughts. It's a shame to see you so twisted up on a holiday."

"Yeah, I'll meditate once the game comes on," smirked Jensen, shoving a sausage into his mouth. "It's great how much football helps me get in tune with the cosmic all."

"Well, if you need any help..." Misha said. Jensen snorted, but Misha's steady blue gaze remained for a few moments, until Richard called him over to check out the kids who were still playing street hockey out at the front of the house. By the time Jensen had finished his breakfast and tidied up, the game was on, and the six of them finally settled to watch the Bengals play the Jets. It soon became apparent that none of them cared very much who won, and there were boos and catcalls aimed equally at both teams.

Once the game was over, they were all beginning to fidget. Jared had already told them that dinner was due to arrive at 7, which left a couple of hours. Finally, Matt, who had been a little quiet during the day, suddenly said, "We should do something to pass the time."

"We could play hockey? The kids have left their stuff outside." Richard was standing at the window again, gazing out over the snowy street. It had almost stopped snowing. The driving wind had abated, and although there was still snow falling, drifting down in lazy flakes to blur the footprints he'd made earlier, it seemed that most of the storm was done, at least for the time being.

"That's a great idea!" Misha was on his feet, ready to go, and Mark, who had been lounging back in one corner of the couch raised an eyebrow. "Jared and Jensen aren't allowed to play hockey any more."

"What do you mean?" Matt had been heading for the coats, but turned back to look at Mark with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah, why aren't you allowed to play hockey any more? Inquiring minds need to know." Richard had swung around from his place by the window, and all eyes were now on the two roommates.

"Uh..." said Jensen, turning pink. "Kim forbade us."

"Kim? Like, Kim Manners?" Matt was frowning.

"That's what he told me," said Mark. "He said that all that talk of Apocalypse on the show was bullshit compared to the anarchy that would break out when those two started competing, so he issued an edict."

"I guess we were a little competitive," said Jensen, blushing.

"A little?" Jared sounded outraged. "Dude, you broke my hand... twice. You tried to drown me in a puddle of mud. I don't think that's a little competitive. That's totally batshit insane."

"What can I say? I like to win." The smile on Jensen's face told a tale of battles fought and won, and Jared bristled.

"You cheated!" he growled. "That's the only way you ever won, Ackles!"

"Whoa!" Misha looked around at the others. "Methinks there's an unfinished business here."

"I think we need to play it out." Richard was grinning. "I want to see who wins, and who dies."

"I'm thinking you're right." Matt began tossing people their coats. "Come on then, boys, pick your teams."

"I wish we still had the trophy," lamented Jensen. "It would be worth playing then."

"Just a minute." Jared disappeared up the stairs, while the others all watched, gaping at the empty space where he had been. It was only a minute or so later that he returned, bearing in triumph what looked like a somewhat dented, galvanized steel bucket.

"Oh, my God!" Jensen ran towards Jared, reaching for the bucket. Jared scowled and held it out of arm's reach.

"Nuh, uh! You don't touch the Manners Trophy,' he growled. "If it was left to you, it would be rotting in the drain."

"I don't understand." Jensen peered cautiously at the bucket. "How did you get it back?"

"It was easy." Jared set the bucket down on the coffee table and stood back to admire it. "After Kim had them pour the water on us, and you went off to change, Kim went to start setting up the following scene. He left the manhole uncovered for the riggers to tidy up, and I just climbed back down into the drain and got the trophy. I've had it ever since."

"Wow! All with your arm in a cast!" Jensen reached to pet the bucket again, and once more Jared smacked his hand away. Drawing back with a growl, Jensen turned to his co-star with a snarl. "Oh, it's on, Padalecki; it's on! Winner takes the cup."

"Okay," said Mark, smiling in a somewhat sinister fashion. "Call it." He tossed a coin up into the air, and Jared called out, "Tails," as it spun in the low light from the lamps.

"Heads it is," murmured Mark, displaying the coin. "Jensen, your first pick."

"I'll take Matt," said Jensen, after drawing out the moment for long enough that Jared's face had begun to show signs of gathering temper.

"Me. Pick me," said Misha, gazing at Misha with imploring eyes at the exact same time that Jared nominated Mark.

"Richard," called Jensen, and Misha folded his arms, pouting.

"What's your problem?" asked Jared. "See, you're on my team. I picked you."

"No, you didn't. You got me by default." Misha looked for all the world like a five year old with his lower lip stuck out and a surly expression on his face. "I'll have you know that I'm not impressed."

"Hush now. You're going to be an important part of our defense." Jared patted him on the shoulder and gestured to him to come along. "We're gonna hit that fucker so hard he won't know which way is up. He'll never get the Manners Trophy from me."

"I heard that!" Jensen's mocking laughter followed them out into the hall as they went to get dressed for their game.

Outside, the temperature had fallen enough that they could see their breath in front of them as they made their way out through the front yard to the area where the nets had been set up on the street. Picking up one of the abandoned sticks, Jared called to Misha to try a shot at the goal, and Misha laughed, letting fly a tremendous slapshot that rocketed towards Jared, causing him to squeal like a little girl and jump to avoid it, just as Jensen and his team were emerging from the house.

Jared whooped in excitement and began to dribble the ball - it was one of Jensen's golf balls they were using - and Richard, small and agile, nipped in behind him to thrust his stick between Jared's legs, snagging it and sending Jared into a heap of snow as he did so.

"Hey! We haven't even started yet," yelled Jared as the rest of them doubled up with laughter. Climbing out of the snow he drew himself up to his full height and moved to the approximate middle of the pitch. "Come on, you lily-livered cheaters. Come and face the wrath of Superpad and his trusty minions."

"Yeah, yeah," sneered Jensen, strolling up to face him in the center. "Let's face it, Paddywhack, you don't stand a chance against us. We're the Jackles, and we fear nothing."

"This is the day of the Jackles," announced Richard, snickering, and, with that, play began in earnest. There was little science to be observed. Misha had a powerful shot, but was constantly raising his stick above his shoulder, causing people to cringe out of his way, and that included his own team. Richard was small and nippy, but completely unable to resist fouling everyone no matter which side they were on, and left a trail of hacked shins and bruised knuckles as he rocketed around the arena.

Matt seemed to have a working knowledge of hockey, and actually succeeded in scoring at least once, while Mark concentrated on keeping Richard from causing too much harm to the rest of them. For a while they were content to move the ball around, each side scoring once or twice, but it was too much to expect that things would remain orderly and calm.

There was a skirmish at the goal that was being tended by Misha. Jensen was attacking ferociously, and Jared shoulder checked him, sending him cannoning into the snowbank behind the goal. Jensen wallowed face down for a moment, then slowly staggered to his feet, snow clinging to every part of him. Jared was stupid enough to laugh, and the sound that Jensen made as he stalked towards his lanky adversary was almost the same as the noise made by a kettle that was coming to the boil.

Jared's face went from laughter to panic in six seconds. He began to back away, but as he did, Jensen roared and launched himself, carrying Jared down to the ground in the snow on the other side of the makeshift pitch.

There were curses and yells, and a sudden flurry of kicked up snow that made it difficult for anyone to see what was happening. Mark went over with the intention of separating the two of them, but backed away, defeated by the flailing limbs and hurled invective.

Throw a bucket of water over them," smirked Matt, leaning on his borrowed stick to watch the two men as they rolled over and over in the snow, rubbing each others' faces in it with shrieks and growls. Richard had run back to the house, and now he reappeared with popcorn he'd snagged that was left over from earlier when they were watching the game.

The four of them stood around watching for the few minutes it took to polish off the popcorn and then, laying their sticks down, they all silently trooped back to the house, leaving the two men to fight on.

Jensen and Jared battled on for a little while longer, but it was getting colder by the minute, and they were both so caked in snow that they resembled snowmen. Their flailing became less fevered as they tired, and it became apparent that they were looking for an excuse to stop fighting. It came when Jensen gave a screech.

"You fucker! You bit my nose."

"Did not!"

"Did too! You need to replace the divots." Jensen sat up, clutching the offending organ. "Dude, I'm gonna be on TV with your toothmarks on my nose."

"Oh, grow up! There aren't any toothmarks. Your nose is just as perfect as it ever was." Jared clambered to his feet and held out his hand to help Jensen up.

"Well, anyway, I won the trophy." Jensen reached for the bucket that was standing beside the path back to the house.

"No way. Your side cheated. That Richard poked his stick up my butt just as I was about to score." There was genuine fear in Jared's voice as he snatched up the bucket and held it protectively hugged against his chest. "It's my trophy."

"We scored more goals than you did." Jensen tried his best to pry it loose from Jared's clutches but didn't seem to be having much luck. Jared's huge hands had a desperate hold on it.

"But we didn't cheat." Jared's words were hissed through gritted teeth.

"You did. You bit my nose." Jensen's eyes were wide and shocked, as if he couldn't quite believe what Jared did. His eyes filled with tears, and Jared felt his heart melt.

"I'm sorry, dude," he murmured, letting the bucket fall to the packed snow and reaching for Jensen, enveloping him in a hug that was tight enough to wring a little squeak from Jensen. Jensen melted into the embrace, and Jared crooned softly as he rocked him gently from side to side. Finally letting him go, heart full of love, he was shocked to the core when Jensen bent, quick as a whip, seized the bucket and ran for the house.

Watching, a little bit stunned, it suddenly occurred to Jared that Jensen could cry to order. "You fucker!" he screeched and started in pursuit. By the time he made it back to the house, Jensen had hidden the bucket somewhere, and Jared, livid, was about to manhandle him, when there was a ring on the doorbell.

Hissing in frustration, Jared turned back to answer the door, and the arrival of their dinner distracted him from any maiming he had intended.

Dinner was amazingly good. There was turkey, of course, but also ham, along with the stuffing and vegetables. The pie that followed didn't stand a chance. Matt and Jared between them managed to polish off half of it, and it wasn't long before the sumptuous repast was a mere memory. Rising to start clearing the table, Jensen was followed into the kitchen by Jared.

"Dude, please...?" Jared reached out to put his hand on Jensen's arm, supplication written in every inch of his frame.

"What?" Jensen didn't turn, concentrating on filling the dishwasher.

"The trophy... don't take it away from me? It was... it was from Kim, you know? He gave it to us, and I treasure it." Puppy eyes were in full operation, and Jensen finally turned to face him.

"Well, okay, I'll tell you where it is, if..." He gave Jared a sideways look that was almost, but not quite a smirk.

"What?" Jared leaned forward. "Anything. Whatever you want."

"You have to kiss my nose better," said Jensen.

Frowning, Jared inspected the brutalized organ. "You sure? It looks okay to me, man."

"That's not the point. You hurt my dignity, and anyway, that's what I want. Do it or not. See if I care." Jensen turned away again, going back to his task. Jared was suddenly smitten with a surge of love for this beautiful, mischievous man. He felt a shiver down his spine as he studied the rigid lines of Jensen's back, and wanted to make that tension go away.

"Okay, okay! I'll do it," he said, feeling a shudder go through him at the thought of actually tasting Jensen. Jensen closed his eyes and turned his face up to give Jared access to his bruised schnozz. He looked almost too beautiful to be true, and Jared suddenly felt reckless. Taking a step forward, he leaned in close to Jensen, and put his hands on the other man's shoulders. "Brace yourself," he smiled.

"Braced." Jensen's lop-sided smile was as familiar to Jared as his own wide grin, but somehow it did something different to him this time. The sounds of the other guys in the living room, heckling each other as they played Texas Hold'em, seemed to dim and fade into the distance. There was only Jensen standing before him, lashes thick against his cheeks as he waited.

He bent forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of Jensen's nose, and then, before he lost his nerve, he bent lower to capture the plush pink of Jensen's lips. Jensen stiffened, and Jared lifted one hand to cup his cheek. He breathed a soft, calming murmur against Jensen's lips and then kissed him again, trying for more, seeking entry into his mouth.

Jensen gave a little gasp and slowly relaxed against him, letting Jared in to taste, to tease and to explore. One of his hands fluttered aimlessly for a moment before it finally came to rest against Jared's hip, tightening the contact between them. Now that it had come to this, bodies pressing close, and wet, slick heat between them, Jared tightened his arms around Jensen and really went for it, tongue sliding over Jensen's to taste the bitter coffee that they'd served after dinner. Somehow, that taste was perfectly Jensen.

Time hung suspended. The two of them stood entwined, each man discovering that their passion was reciprocated. Hands clutched and mouths pressed, and the dishes remained on the table, until Misha, bored with the card game, began to bring in the remainder of the dirty plates.

He paused on the threshold of the kitchen and stood gazing at his two colleagues. "Finally!" he said, and walked past them to the dishwasher.

Drawing apart hastily, Jared turned to Misha. "What do you mean?"

"Your auras look much better now. They were giving me a headache." He began to stack the dishwasher. "You should go work out your tensions now that you've decided that fighting isn't the way."

"I think he might be right for once." Jared looked down at Jensen, who was smiling softly, a sleepy expression on his face.

"There had to be a first time," Jensen said.

"Make love, not war. Let that be a lesson to you," said Misha, piously. "I'll just go update my Twitter now."

There was a pause; the boys were about to kiss again and then Jared gave a start. At the same time, Jensen shrieked, "Oh, fuck, no!"

As they burst through the living room on Misha's trail, past the other three, mocking laughter was heard from behind the locked door of one of the spare bedrooms, and Jensen gave a shrug. "Guess we kill him on Monday, then."

And the evil smiles they exchanged as they made for the bedroom was a promise of future war, but first, they were going to make love.

---

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