Work Text:
The first text comes when Sam is flipping on the oven light to check the chicken. His phone pings and vibrates with the unmistakable pattern that only belongs to Jacob somewhere on the island countertop where he left it. He sighs, turns off the light after deeming everything acceptable in there, and goes to find it.
Jacob 10:54 am
sam guess what
Sam sighs again and hurries to reply before Jacob gets impatient.
Sam 10:55 am
what
The little dots that indicate Jacob is typing start bouncing on the screen. Sam doesn’t have to wait long for Jacob’s response.
Jacob 10:56 am
happy thanksgiving, you can stuff my turkey any day
Sam nearly drops the phone in surprise, but quickly recovers in time to type out a quick response.
Sam 10:57 am
jacob
really
we don’t even celebrate thanksgiving
and we’re having chicken anyway
Sam doesn’t wait for Jacob’s response, and instead shoves his phone in his pocket and goes to clean up the mess he’d made while cooking. It was true; they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. But they’re both in New York for a brief vacation before heading to their respective homes for the holidays and Jacob wanted an authentic American holiday experience–his words, not Sam’s. And Sam would do anything to make Jacob happy, including braving the horrible traffic and crowded shops to buy everything they’d need for a meal for two the day before Thanksgiving.
Which leads them to the day of. Sam has been up cooking, something he rarely ever does or even has the time for, since eight this morning. Jacob left after breakfast–and a quick Happy Thanksgiving blow job, much to Sam’s exasperation–to go run some errands, and it wasn’t long before Sam was getting the call that he was stuck in traffic heading towards Times Square.
It’s been almost two hours now since Jacob called to say he was stuck. And has apparently decided to entertain himself and Sam with terrible Thanksgiving puns.
Jacob’s response has Sam’s phone buzzing and pinging in his pocket barely a minute later. Sam sighs, reluctantly takes his phone back out to look. Only to be greeted by several messages at once.
Jacob 10:58 am
sam
we’re celebrating today
don’t be in such a FOWL mood
That one has Sam rolling his eyes, despite the small smile he’s trying to fight.
Jacob 10:58 am
im gonna rock your gravy boat later
and butter your biscuits
Sam snorts in amusement, thumb hovering over the screen to send a reply.
Sam 11:00 am
those are terrible
and i don’t have a gravy boat
or biscuits
Jacob 11:00 am
you’ve got a whole bakery back there sam shut up
Sam blushes up to his ears with that one.
The messages keep coming, full of Jacob’s terrible but filthy puns, all of them either making Sam blush, laugh, or roll his eyes. The cleaning up he needed to do sits forgotten in favor of watching Jacob’s texts come in.
Jacob 11:05 am
you gonna choke me with your turkey baster again?
make me gobble till i wobble!!!
fill me with your stuffing sam
baste me in your juices!
Sam 11:07 am
classy
Jacob 11:07 am
im a classy lady with classy values
Sam 11:07 am
you weren’t last night
Jacob 11:08 am
SAM
Sam laughs, shoulders shaking, and taps on Jacob’s name to call him. He answers after the first ring has barely finished.
“You’re horrible,” Jacob says by way of greeting.
“I’m horrible?!” Sam gasps, mock offended and hand pressed to his chest.
“Yes. Horrible,” Jacob sniffs, and Sam can picture him sitting in the back of the Lyft with his nose turned up in the air in offense, bottom lip pursed in a bit of a pout.
Sam smiles and asks, “How much longer till you’re home?”
“Why? You ready to stuff me?” Jacob whispers, giggling directly into the phone.
“Yeah, actually,” Sam whispers back, like a secret between them that has him giggling, too.
“It’ll probably be another hour,” he sighs. “Sorry, love.”
“It’s alright, food’s not even close to being ready anyway,” Sam replies, shrugging even though Jacob can’t see it. “Get back safe. And hey, pick up a pie or something while you’re out….doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
Suddenly Jacob gasps, then trails off into a fit of laughter. After a moment he stops and blows a raspberry, lets out one more soft giggle. “Can we have creampie for dessert?”
Sam hangs up on him.
*
Probably another hour ends up being closer to another two hours. Jacob comes barreling inside the apartment just after one, two grocery bags in one hand and an arrangement of fall colored flowers in the other. He kicks the door shut and hurries through the living area to the kitchen, breathless from his near run to get upstairs.
“I’m here! Sorry!” He sets the bags and the flowers onto the nearest counter that isn’t covered in an array of food stuff and heads straight for Sam, who’s elbow deep in a sink full of suds and dirty dishes. “Sorry, apparently there was a parade float incident? Smells great in here, by the way.”
Sam laughs, sticks out his cheek and Jacob grins, leaning in to kiss it. “Thought the parade was over?” he says, and turns back to the sink.
“It is!” Jacob sheds his jacket as he takes a few steps back. “Apparently Snoopy nearly got blown away when they were taking the floats wherever they keep them?” He shrugs, drops his jacket on one of the barstools at the island, goes searching for a vase to put the flowers in.
“Americans,” he hears Sam mutter under his breath and can’t help laughing. “What’re you looking for?”
"A vase!” Jacob’s voice is slightly muffled with his head stuck in the cabinets. “Do you have one of those?”
“What do you need a vase for? And no, I don’t,” Sam answers, and Jacob huffs, turning around to shoot a glare at Sam. He sees Sam leaning against the edge of the sink, sleeves damp and shoved up to his elbows, arms crossed on his chest as he watches.
“I got flowers.” Jacob points to the flowers laying on the countertop and smiles. Sam’s face goes soft, crinkles around his eyes deepening when he smiles at the sight of them. It makes Jacob flush and turn pink and warm with affection every time he sees it. Clearing his throat, he shrugs and starts digging in the cabinet again. He hears Sam sigh behind him, the water starts running again in the sink.
Eventually he finds something tall enough to put the flowers in. He nudges Sam over so he can fill it with water, then puts the flowers in and sets it aside, groaning when Sam flicks some bubbles on his cheek only to gently wipe them away with his shirt sleeve after.
“Rude,” Jacob mutters, but still leans over and pecks Sam’s lips anyway. He grins and takes the dishtowel that’s laying beside the sink, pops it and twists it between his hands and smirks.
“Jacob–” Sam doesn’t have time to say anything else before Jacob is whipping the towel, smacking Sam’s ass with it in one sharp snap of fabric. Sam gasps and jerks away. “What the hell?!”
“That’s for being rude,” Jacob sniffs as he twirls the towel around one hand. “And for saying I’m not classy earlier.”
“I’ll show you classy.” Sam glares and manages to snatch the towel mid-air from Jacob’s grip and toss it onto the counter. Then he’s reaching for Jacob, soapy hands and all, and grabbing him around the waist, Jacob shouting in surprise as he’s lifted from the floor. Automatically he wraps his legs around Sam, clinging to his shoulders and giggling.
Sam kisses him quiet, hands moving to his thighs and gripping him tightly to carry him from the kitchen to the living area to the bedroom. He’s dropped unceremoniously on the bed, and he huffs, bouncing a few times on the mattress. Sam doesn’t waste any time grabbing Jacob’s shoes and yanking them off one-by-one, along with his socks that have little cartoon turkeys on them.
“You’re lucky I love you, or the turkey socks would be the last straw,” Sam says as he pulls the socks from Jacob’s feet.
“What was the first straw?” Jacob asks, grinning in amusement and fondness both. “And my socks are cute, thanks very much. Very on theme.”
“Your terrible stuffed turkey pun,” laughs Sam, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He kisses Jacob’s ankle, his scruff making Jacob laugh and jerk his foot away; he nearly brains Sam in the face in the process.
“You loved my puns, Sammy!” Jacob undoes the fastenings on his jeans and starts shoving them down over his hips and thighs while Sam does the same with his own; keeps going until he’s standing naked between Jacob’s spread legs. Sam rolls his eyes as he drops to his knees.
“They were terrible,” Sam huffs, and hastily begins to unbutton Jacob’s shirt. As he goes he plants kisses up Jacob’s torso, swirls his tongue around a nipple and pushes the shirt off Jacob’s shoulders. “Worst puns I’ve ever heard in my life,” he murmurs against Jacob’s skin. “Absolute worst.”
“Sam,” Jacob groans, hands threading in Sam’s hair and yanking him up so they’re face-to-face. Sam grins. “Shut up and st-” Before he can finish Sam clamps a hand over his mouth.
“Say it and I’m leaving you here to take care of yourself,” Sam warns. “I’ll go eat all that food by myself while you watch.”
Jacob nods, smiling into Sam’s palm, and Sam waits a beat before removing his hand. “Stuff my turkey,” he blurts out quickly. Groaning, Sam’s forehead drops to Jacob’s chest. “Baste me with your juices, Sam!” he exclaims as Sam crowds him down into the bed, fingers digging into Jacob’s ribs and causing him to shriek with laughter. “Make me gobble till I wobble!” he manages to get out before a hand is clamped over his mouth again.
Breathless with laughter, Jacob squirms away from Sam, wrenching his head to the side so Sam’s hand falls away. He wraps his arms around Sam’s neck and raises up to kiss him sweetly, innocently, until Sam is relaxing into him. Then he pulls away, pecks Sam’s lips, grins and whispers, “Fill me with your stuffing, Sam.”
“Oh my god,” Sam groans.
*
“Consider me sufficiently stuffed,” Jacob pants sometime later, boneless in the middle of the bed, Sam cradled between his thighs. He’s got his arms wrapped around Jacob’s middle; Jacob can feel him grinning where he’s mouthing at his chest. Broad strokes of his tongue where he’s licking up the come streaking Jacob’s torso, teeth grazing a sensitive nipple, and Jacob half laughs, half groans.
“Jacob,” Sam huffs, exasperated. Jacob grins at the top of Sam’s head and pets at his hair.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he laughs, and tugs at Sam’s hair to get him to look at him. He’s flushed, cheeks a bright red, and his ears, too; lips puffy and pink and hair a wild mess. There’s a faint smear of spit and jizz on his chin that Jacob can’t help wiping off with his thumb.
Jacob is terribly fond of him.
“Oh but don’t forget,” he adds, grinning wider as Sam’s eyes narrow. “Dessert. I seem to recall we’re having creampie?”
Sam sighs deeply and buries his face between Jacob’s pecs. “You’re the worst,” he mutters, but doesn’t hesitate to work his way down Jacob’s body and situate himself between his spread thighs.
“You love me,” Jacob sighs, fingers stroking through Sam’s hair and a fond smile on his face.
*
Everything is cold by the time they trudge from the bedroom just in boxers and Jacob’s turkey socks. Sam reheats the chicken in the oven where it was left while Jacob gleefully pokes through everything else.
“You made all this for us?” he asks as Sam joins him at his side standing in front of a pan of some sort of casserole. Sam shrugs, cheeks tinged pink, and Jacob slips a hand around the nape of his neck, pulls him into a kiss.
“You said you wanted an authentic American holiday experience,” Sam murmurs, lips catching his. Jacob huffs a laugh and kisses him again. “Is this authentic enough?”
“Plenty authentic.” Jacob smiles, gives Sam one more kiss. “Thank you.”
Sam hums and rubs his nose against Jacob’s. “You’re cooking for Christmas,” he whispers with a small grin.
“Deal,” Jacob whispers back, smile growing and Sam’s arm slipping around his waist, pulling him in closer. “Let’s eat. And then I’m gonna show my thanks by rocking your gravy boat later.”
Sam just groans.