“Just
remember something before we dig into this slick pile of gorgeous meat,” Jesse
said, scooping a generous portion of mac and cheese onto his plate beside an
ear of sweetcorn. “We’re not training everyday anymore. At this stage in our
lives, we pig out the way we did at the luau in Kahului and we’ll be working it
off until the day we die.”
Laughter
before they tucked in, obscene sounds making their way around the table as they
did. One particular dish Jaylon hadn’t sampled in years, which might have
explained his enthusiasm when he went to spear one a piece with his fork, only
to clash with Crowley attempting to do the same thing.
“Unfork
my tomato!” Jaylon said, narrowing his eyes at Crowley, who tried not to laugh,
and failed completely, right along with Jesse who shared the same sense of
humor.
“What’ll
you give me if I do.”
The
moment those words left Crowley’s mouth, there was a pause, like a collective
inhale, as everyone stared at the contents of their plates. It had come out so
naturally, playful and light, teasing in that flirting way Crowley had without
even trying, that Jaylon hated to see the smile fade.
“I
came across a bottle of coffee syrup when I was at the grocery store earlier,” Jaylon
said, the words no sooner leaving his mouth than Crowley withdrew his fork from
the fray.
“That
was the culinary equivalent of tapping out,” Jesse quipped, laughing as he
snagged a tomato from the edge of the plate.
“I
might have fought harder if it was the last tomato,” Crowley said, “But if
giving up that one gets me coffee milk, I’m good with it.”
He’d have gotten more than coffee syrup for his milk if things were different, of that he could be sure.
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