mandie i just HAVE to thank you for indulging my jalex bullshit. as for the rest of you who follow me for 5sos fic i am. so sorry. but i’m also very much not because if i have to single handedly revive jalex fic i will do it
ETA: ao3 link!
-
“This is so fucking self-centered,” Jack says when he finally makes his appearance in the kitchen.
Alex spins around, wooden spoon held up to his mouth in a crude approximation of a microphone, and sings as badly as he possibly can along to Vegas, which is what’s currently blaring through his speaker from his phone’s Spotify.
“It’s a banger!” he counters, holding out a hand to Jack. “Come dance!”
“I thought we were making dinner.”
“We are,” Alex says impatiently, “after you dance with me to our shitty old music, you bitch. Come on.”
Jack goes willingly, bowing low and exaggerated to Alex before sliding into a waltz with him that doesn’t work at all with the song. Not for lack of trying; they get through the whole bridge before Alex dissolves into giggles, footsteps jerking to a halt as he buries his laughter in Jack’s shoulder. Jack shakes his head, giggling himself.
“You’re the most insane person I’ve ever met,” he says, grinning. “Can we please get on with the food?”
Alex nods and picks his head up. “Pizza bagels and beer, baby!”
“Low risk, high reward,” Jack says, nodding in approval. “I like the way you think.”
“I know you do.” Alex kisses his cheek, and Jack blushes. “Bagels are on the counter. They need to be cut.”
“Damn, these are fresh,” Jack says, grabbing the plastic bag from the countertop. “Giant?”
“Obviously,” Alex says. “Who do you take me for?”
“An animal.” Jack retrieves a baking sheet from under the island. They’re not specifically for pizza bagels, but they’re not not for pizza bagels. So. It’s probably fine. He dumps the bagels out onto the sheet and they tumble into a haphazard pile. “Sesame? Poppy seed?”
“Felt adventurous,” Alex says with a shrug. He plucks the bread knife from the knife block and delicately passes it to Jack. “Get to work, slacker.”
“Can you have, like, an ounce of patience?” Jack says, taking the knife. “I’m wielding a sharp object.”
“That’s how I like you.” Alex wiggles his eyebrows. Jack snorts.
“Masochist.”
“Yeah,” Alex says agreeably, and slides in his socks across the linoleum to wrap Jack in a frankly dangerous hug that jostles him and nearly makes him lose his grip on the knife. “You fucking knew that, you weirdo.”
“Be careful, Jesus Christ, I am holding a knife,” Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. Alex just buries his chin in Jack’s shoulder, so Jack picks up a bagel and sets to cutting them in half. It’s not hard, and kind of nice to do with Alex’s arms around his waist, swaying them gently to the rhythm of Dancing With A Wolf and then Guts.
“Did you shuffle our entire discography?”
Alex nods, prodding Jack with his chin. “What can I say, we’ve made some hits.”
“You are so full of yourself.”
“You’re in the band too. I have a crush on the lead guitarist.”
“You’re probably thinking of the bassist. He’s a cutie.”
Alex hums. “You’re right. I probably am.”
“Hey, fuck you!”
Alex laughs openly, leaving a sloppy kiss against Jack’s neck before finally detaching himself. “I’m gonna get the other shit out, get some of these started.”
Jack finishes cutting the last bagel as Alex slides a jar of tomato sauce and a bag of pre-shredded mozzarella onto the island. “Shouldn’t we put, like, parchment paper on the trays?”
“We’re out,” Alex informs him. “I checked already.”
“Was that before or after you went to the grocery store?” Jack asks dryly.
Alex ignores him. “It’s fine. As long as we soak them after —”
“Dibs not doing the dishes!”
“You’re a child, but okay,” Alex says, shaking his head and smiling. “Just set them up.” As Jack follows his instructions, Alex grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer, twists the top off the tomato sauce, and begins to spread the sauce across the bagels. Guts ends and Thanks To You starts up. Jack laughs. Sometimes he forgets how much music they’ve made.
“God, we have a lot of songs,” he says.
Alex nods. “Some better than others.”
“I don’t know,” Jack says thoughtfully. “Come One, Come All is really growing on me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Alex says. “Put cheese on these bagels and not another word about that song.”
Jack laughs and sends a small prayer/telepathic message to the Spotify gods to play that song next, just for irony’s sake. He gets moving sprinkling cheese with a heavy hand over the sauced-up bagels. It’s kind of nice to just stand side-by-side with Alex, elbows brushing every few seconds, listening to their old music and making dinner in tandem. It’s not, like, a gourmet meal by any measure, but they’re not gourmet-meal people anyway.
The oven beeps at 350 degrees, and Jack finishes sprinkling the last of the cheese on the last bagel just as the song ends. Walls starts up, and Jack looks up, catching Alex’s face as it breaks into a bashful smile.
“You’re a sap,” Jack points out, although when he turns to put the trays in the oven he feels himself smiling too, a mirror image of Alex. “Big fucking sap. You’re just sap poured into a human mold.”
“Don’t be gross,” Alex insists. “It’s cute. I’m cute. We’re cute.”
“Sap,” Jack says again, closing the oven. “How long?”
“Ten minutes.” Alex comes up behind Jack once again, trailing his fingers up Jack’s arm while he sets the timer, which is sufficiently distracting. More distracting, though, is Alex grabbing hold of Jack’s hand and using it to spin him around until they’re face to face, steadying themselves just in front of the oven.
“Hot oven,” Jack feels obliged to remind Alex.
“No sense of adventure,” Alex counters coolly, and chases Jack’s lips for a kiss. Jack leans into it, slightly stressed that letting Alex push will back him up against the oven, and, okay, sue him, he doesn’t want his back flush against a hot oven.
“Are you trying to seduce me to death?” Jack says when he leans away. “Did you not hear me say hot oven?”
Alex rolls his eyes and takes an exaggerated step back, heel bumping against the baseboard of the island. He tugs and Jack follows, bracing himself with an arm on either side of Alex. “Happy?”
“Very,” Jack says, self-satisfied, and this time kisses Alex, slow and easy. Alex hums, fingers dancing around the hem of Jack’s shirt, skimming his waist, hooking on his jeans. After a moment, Jack pulls back, I wanna fall so in love with you echoing around the kitchen. He wrinkles his nose.
“Did you eat the tomato sauce?”
Maybe,” Alex says.
Jack considers this. “If I ate some of the cheese, do you think kissing would taste like pizza, or…?”
Alex laughs, head tipping backwards. “Only one way to find out,” he says, and Jack smirks and reaches for the bag of mozzarella.
