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Matt spoons Jay up and kisses the back of his neck, his nose brushing into soft, short hair. Jay barely wakes up, stirring lazily to lay a hand on Matt’s forearm tucked against his chest. During their first week of sharing a bed they would accidentally scare the shit out of each other every time they brushed shins or stretched out an unconscious hand, neither used to co-sleeping. Upon remembering they’d giggle like it was a sleepover, imitating the other’s shocked gasp before getting entangled again and drifting off. He could do this a million more times and it would still impress him how well they fit together.
He’s been awake for ten minutes, still unsure if this was an anxious morning for him. His heart rate says yes, the dryness in his mouth and sweat cooling on his forehead says yes, but he doesn’t want to deal with it so he decides on a No, thank you.
This has been a fixture of his life for as long as he can remember. He’ll wake up already at full capacity, like all of the moving he didn’t do in his sleep was stored up and turned against him. The gym helped, sex helped, the sight of Jay as soon as he woke up helped after it stopped terrifying him.
Matt syncs up his breathing to Jay’s slow, sleeping rhythm and it helps. Holding onto Jay is not unlike wrapping himself around a wooden drying rack, the kind that folds up accordion style. He loves him and wants to talk to him. Old news in a new format.
“Bird.”
Jay only hums in response.
“It’s Big Dinner Day.” Matt gently scratches his chest through his t-shirt. “We gotta get started now.”
“If it’s before nine, you’re wrong…” Jay curls up, burying his face into the pillow.
“How much before nine would make you mad?”
“One millisecond.” His voice is muffled.
“Ok, but - hear me out.” Matt says. “We’ve got cleaning, and inventory, breakfast -”
Jay groans, turning onto his stomach and taking their comforter for himself.
“Shopping, cooking, and like – eating, clean-up. It’s a long day!” Matt crawls halfway on top of him.
“What time is it?” Jay whines, reaching behind him and threading a hand through Matt’s hair. He’s petting Matt, trying to calm him down. He wants to hate being soothed like a dog but he’s too soothed to get upset about it.
“Eight fifty-five?” He mumbles, gently bonking his forehead into Jay’s head a few times.
“Liar…” He says. “It’s dark outside.”
It’s the middle of winter and overcast, the streetlights are still on, not even a band of blue twilight is visible from the gap in their curtains. He’d go back to sleep if he could, he wants to curl up and doze like they’re a couple of overfed housecats.
“What are you, a survivalist?” Matt says. “Come on, I'm up. I don't wanna wait around for two and a half hours.”
“Matthew…” The hand in his hair tightens. ”Is it 6 AM?”
“Hey hey hey - nicer, nicer!” Matt laughs. “It's a - it might be a little bit 6 AM. I can't help it. I get excited when I see you.”
Jay sighs, Matt can see the edge of his smile from this angle.
He flops over to lay beside him again, still wrapped around Jay. He’s all boneless and his lisp is more pronounced. Having him in arms reach the second Matt wakes up and knowing they have an activity ahead, he knows he should let him sleep but can’t resist trying. Having him, he thinks. Matt gets momentarily overwhelmed by Jay’s inhale and exhale, the smell of their shared detergent on his shirt — he buries his face into Jay’s neck.
“I know…” Jay says, “I - uh, it’s nice.”
Matt squeezes him. He hates how easily Jay can tell when he's off balance. How he’s meeting him in this valley even when it doesn’t come naturally to either of them, even now. Matt’s breath isn’t coming out like it should.
“Hey –” Jay says, gently, trying to turn around without much luck. “C’mon…”
Jay’s thumb slowly circles where Matt’s hand meets his wrist. The quiet is heavy and he relents, letting Jay turn over and pull him into the crook of his shoulder, covering him back up with the blanket. Matt groans as Jay kisses the top of his head. Allowing this to happen is like suddenly getting full feeling in one of his vital internal organs, Jay’s hooked up somewhere unfathomably deep and filtering his toxins.
Their first month together was a slingshot ride and neither of them could understood why. It’s still a foreign language they both may never reach fluency in. It was a huge fucking mess, poor Jay waking up to Matt hiccuping into his stupid flat spare pillow and needing to be gathered up like something spilled onto the sidewalk. Two nights later Jay had a nightmare so bad their roles reversed, thrashing and trembling and shouting with only the streetlight through the windows to guide them, Matt intervening to console him like never would have dared in the bunk beds, and Jay dissolved like sugar into hot water. It was a crash course in banishing the remaining sliver of their privacy. Midnight root canals and medieval bloodlettings.
“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I don’t -”
“S’okay…” Jay says into his hair, “I got you.”
Matt involuntarily lets out a pathetic whine. It’s so pitiful he has to laugh at himself, if only so he doesn’t cry. They stay like that, with Jay tracing indecipherable patterns onto Matt’s back. Inevitably Jay falls asleep and he’s pretty sure he starts drooling on his head. Gross. Except that it's very cute and sweet and lovely. He can like it if he wants to.
Matt zones out, the short circuit reroutes into a normal restlessness and idle boredom for now, picking at the hem of Jay’s worn out undershirt. He runs through the day ahead and thinks very seriously about lasagna.
This is their redemption Big Dinner. The beef wellington was an unmitigated failure on nearly every level – some sections burnt, others raw. Admittedly too ambitious considering their normal cooking output was sparse and limited. Jay was good at breakfast items when the mood struck him, Matt had a couple of trustworthy “bullshit with pasta” and “bullshit with rice” staples for when they both forgot to eat and go grocery shopping, with the clock striking 3AM and they were about to kill each other.
An honest and modest lasagna with Jay. He’s looking forward to it. Matt snuggles him for a while longer before he gets truly bored, and frees himself from the Spirit Halloween skeleton cage of Jay’s grip. He tucks their blanket up under his chin as Jay buries his face into the pillow. Matt touches the top of his head and yeah, he was getting drooled on that entire time.
___
After puttering around downstairs Matt feels entirely back to normal. He doesn’t enjoy having mornings to himself but knows on some level it’s necessary, if only to reorganize the switchboard in his brain with discretion. He checks the recipe he printed out and almost throws away the first two pages that relay an anecdote from the blogger’s tumultuous second marriage, before setting it aside in case they could use it during rehearsal. There’s a particularly vivid scene about her honeymoon in Athens featuring a hyperlinked recipe for no bake cookies.
He’s nearly up the stairs at 9:01AM and stops when he sees Jay rounding the corner. He’s yawning, already dressed for the day. It’s deep into winter and he’s wearing the brown cable knit sweater he stole from Matt years ago over a button up shirt. Jay takes a few steps down to stand above Matt, who pulls him in for a closed mouth kiss. He smells like cinnamon toothpaste.
“About time!” Matt says.
“I’m ahead because I’m ready at nine.” He says, smiling. “Because you were being so loud down there to try and wake me up.”
“That was the kitchen inventory - to see if we have all the necessary equipment.”
“I think you were banging pots and pans around.”
“Not arbitrarily!”
“Do we have everything?”
“We’ve got pots, and pans.” He nods.
“Cool.”
Jay has a bowl of oatmeal and they watch an episode of Seinfeld. Matt’s impatient to leave, until Jay scoots closer to him and rests his head on his shoulder. It’s a seventy-five percent likelihood that this is how he stalls for time but Matt finds he doesn’t care. Matt had assumed until a few months ago that cuddling was a marketing gimmick used to sell coffee and furniture. Attractive people on brand new sectionals with non-descript steaming mugs, nestled up to each other to signal an aspirational coziness if you buy their product. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t like it, and when he realized he wanted it, assumed Jay definitely wouldn’t. He was surprised to be proven wrong, and still gets nervous like a teenager every time Jay would initiate casual affection with him – he feels his face getting hot.
Jay reaches for Matt’s hand and idly plays with the loose skin on his knuckles, an extremely weird habit of his that fascinates Matt deeply. He’s so weird. He just keeps getting weirder. Thank God.
“I feel like you’d be good at that.” Jay says, unaware of the internal journey Matt was on.
“Huh?”
“Elaine’s job. Writing the catalog.”
“You think I’d do a good job describing a scarf?” Matt chuckles.
“Yeah.” He says, fully earnest. “You’d use some crazy word that no ones ever thought to use for a scarf.”
“If they didn’t know what the word was, then it doesn’t paint a vivid picture… It’s a delicate balance.”
“They’d be curious.” Jay says, “But then you’d get fired for not liking the English Patient, just like she did.”
Matt presses his cheek onto Jay’s head and laughs.
“I’m glad she stood her ground. Ridiculous fucking movie.” He rubs Jay’s back. “Oh! I forgot to tell you - you were drooling on my head like crazy this morning.”
Jay leans up, looking scandalized. “No I wasn’t!”
“Oh my god -” Matt brushes his hair back. “You were terraforming my scalp. I was soaked.”
“Matt I don’t drool in my sleep!” He whines, pushing Matt off of him.
“This is the weirdest revisionism that you do, you know that? There’s so much evidence.”
“No…” Jay says, trying to look serious but an embarrassed grin surfaces on his face.
“It’s fine, ‘cause it’s super cute -” Matt coos, playfully pushing his shoulder. “You can drool on me all you want, Birdie.”
“Ugh.” Jay pushes him back.
It quickly becomes a tussle, and they really don’t have time for this. That thought doesn’t have time to surface as Matt pulls Jay on top of him, or Jay pushes himself on top – either option is fine once Matt drags his fingernails at the small of Jay’s back and the weight against him is warm and pliable. They meet for a rough kiss, Jay’s hands wandering along Matt’s body for greedy handfuls of him. His dexterity is put to maddening use when it’s turned on Matt, pleasure already starting to warm him from the inside out. He pushes his hips up and groans into his mouth as he lifts up Jay’s shirt, separating to tug it over his head.
“I thought you said we were sooo busy today.” Jay says, leaning back and resting his hands at the waistband of Matt’s jeans. His dark hair is a mess, the slight paunch in his stomach made more obvious with his terrible posture. The teasing smile on Jay’s face lights up every neuron in Matt’s brain at once.
“I budgeted for this!” Matt says, lying.
“Really…?”
“Yep.” He grabs Jay’s elbow just to run his thumb along the delicate skin. “Right in my itinerary: ‘Bird takes a ride on me like I’m the last horse outta’ town, and there’s a bounty on his pretty head.’”
Jay laughs, exasperated, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You’re what’s wrong with me.” He pulls Jay in close to kiss his neck, sliding the hand on his arm up to the back of his head. “I don’t - I don’t even know what’s about to come out of my mouth when I look at you anymore.”
Jay hums in response, unbuttoning Matt’s shirt. They strip each other down and it’s cold downstairs, Jay laying on him to conserve warmth like they’re hikers trapped in a blizzard – until they work each other up enough to separate, Matt flushed pink and pulling at Jay’s hair. Jay’s leaking erection is pressed up against his stomach as he massages Matt’s chest.
“Do we have -“
“Yes.” Matt searches under the couch and finds a bottle of lube.
He has Jay scoot up a bit for better leverage opening him up. The angle is still awkward and the lube chilly but he still grinds down onto Matt’s fingers, a soft whine escaping him when he hits his prostate. Matt feels his precome leaking onto his stomach watching Jay like this, seeing his head tip back as Matt inserts a third finger, his slick entrance tightening before relaxing into the rhythm. He reaches up to run his palm against the dark hair on his chest and stomach.
“Matt…” He exhales.
“You ready?”
They reposition so Jay is hovering above him and he sinks down. Watching him from below like this is dizzying, how his back arches once he gets to the hilt and his eyes gloss over in pleasure. He’s too good at this, Matt still can’t believe Jay wasn’t being chased through the streets by male suitors begging for a chance to fuck him stupid. Instead it’s just for him. That thought makes him twitch inside Jay, he reaches up to grip at his jaw and slide the pad of his thumb inside of his mouth.
“You’re too fucking good - ah - you know that?” Matt says, as Jay starts to drag himself up and down on Matt’s cock.
Jay groans deep in his chest, biting down softly on Matt’s thumb. His hands are braced on Matt’s chest, still feeling him up and Matt chokes as his senses are taken over by him, pleasure threatening to to close his eyes but resisting. It’d be a grave sin not to see every second of this. Jay finds an angle that makes him gasp and rolls his hips into it, lazily at first as punched out whines escape his open mouth.
Matt leans up a little and spreads Jay’s legs more to get a better look at the wet stretch of him around his cock, disappearing entirely inside over and over again. Jay turns his head in embarrassment but doesn’t stop. Matt knows he likes to show off when he gets going.
“Fuck, fuck, Matt -” He says, his head tipping forward as his movements get a little more frantic, his dick bouncing with every thrust downward, a string of precome dripping out.
“You like that, Birdie?” Matt grabs at his thin waist and digs his fingers in as the waves of sensation start to become unbearable. He’s writhing underneath Jay, the smooth slide inside of him fogging up his brain.
Jay only nods.
“Tell me.” Matt says, softly as he runs his palm up to tease at one of his nipples. It hardens under his touch and Jay rocks against his hand.
“It’s good - it’s good.” Jay’s dark curls fall over his eyes and he’s panting like an animal as he gets lost in pursuing the drag on his prostate.
“What is?” Matt brushes the hair out of his face, and tugs on it with some force.
“Fuck, Matt.” Jay shivers, his voice coming out as a whine. “Your - your cock.”
Matt has to employ superhuman focus not to finish when hearing him say it, his abdomen tightening in anticipation. Jay’s skinny thighs start trembling, Matt can tell he’s starting to lose some stamina and pulls Jay down, bending his knees so he can have more leverage to thrust into him. They grind into each other feverishly without much rhythm, Matt licks the sweat from Jay’s temple, his hand firm on the back of his neck.
“You want to come on it?” Matt says into his ear.
Jay moans an approximation of “Yes.”
Matt reaches between them and strokes Jay’s leaking cock, hot and slick in his hand. Jay unravels at this, his thrusts impaling him and fucking Matt’s tight fist. He lets out a string of curses and sobs as he buries his face into Matt’s neck. With a practiced effort Matt determines to hold on until Jay crosses the finish line. It doesn’t take long until Jay’s body goes taught and he bites down on Matt’s shoulder, tightening over Matt’s dick, shuddering and releasing all over his stomach. This is enough to push Matt over the edge and he unloads inside of him with a few violent thrusts.
They catch their breath, Matt threads a hand through his hair and kisses the soft skin underneath his ear.
“Don’t fall asleep.” Matt says.
“Ugh…” Jay says, wincing as he sits up. “I can’t believe you didn’t pull out.”
“What? How the hell would I have done that with you on top?”
Jay shrugs.
“Unbelievable. Let’s - we gotta get cleaned up and go. Daylight’s burning, man.”
With a few more minutes of rest and some negotiation, they clean up and get redressed. Jay seems relaxed, if a bit displeased at going out so soon after fucking – he usually indulges in a long nap afterwards. They bundle up and face the cold, headed for the bus stop.
—
“See the problem - the root of the issue, is that you’re wrong.” Matt says,
“It’s a good movie.”
“No! Vanilla Sky’s total dog water.”
“It’s got Radiohead, Buckley, Dylan. It says stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“About life, and dreams. I liked it.” Jay crosses his arms.
“You of all people shouldn’t be finding meaning in dreams, Bird. And there’s a time and place for a movie to have dream logic. Like in Mulholland Drive -”
“I mean-” Jay says, “‘Course it’s gonna look bad compared to Mulholland Drive. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“So we shouldn’t compare movies to each other anymore, is that what you’re saying?” Matt says, “Everything should just exist in a vacuum? Sure, ok! Tom Cruise deserves a participation trophy!” He gestures too wide and elbows a stranger next to him. “Sorry!”
Jay rolls his eyes, Matt can sense he’s about to get tuned out.
Matt digs in. “You just liked Vanilla Sky because you understood it better. Guys see themselves in Tom Cruise and think, ‘Oh, that handsome Scientologist had a bad turn and I’d do the same thing he would. I’d wake up and take the risk. As if it’s that fucking easy.’ It’s a jack off movie, for guys that jack off.”
“Matt… you’re gonna look me in the eyes and say you understood Mulholland Drive?”
“Innately.” Matt nods.
“Sure.”
“Because I chose not to understand it. I met that film on it’s playing field and won.”
“That’s a cop-out. Embarrassing to even say.” Jay says, scratching at the side of his face.
“You slept through twenty-five percent of Vanilla Sky.”
“Ten, tops.” Jay says, “So… I’m not allowed to like it?”
“I never said that.” Matt points to him, shaking his head. “You said it was a good movie. You were making an objective statement. And it was wrong.”
“You’re scolding me right now.” Jay says, “You know I don’t like being scolded.”
“That’s -” Matt laughs, “Categorically untrue.”
Jay turns away from him towards the window, affecting a cold shoulder. Within seconds he checks that Matt is still looking.
“Birdie…” Matt says, a big stupid smile on his face. He crowds him.
“You were being rude.”
“I’m sorry.” He hooks a finger onto a belt loop of Jay’s pants. This is Matt’s all time favorite move and his execution has become near flawless, even when Jay is wearing three layers of clothing. He shakes him a little bit. It’s approaching too much for the public eye but he finds he can’t help it.
“Stop -” Jay mumbles, the crooked grin on his face showing one of his incisors as he slaps Matt’s hand away.
“There’s a bougie cafe right next to the store.” Matt says. “Can I get you a hot chocolate?”
Jay reaches out to straighten Matt’s jacket. “Fine.”
They disembark and Matt makes good on his promise at the cafe. Jay seems pleased, giving him a secretive smile.
How the hell is Matt pulling this off? He wonders as he looks at Jay, at the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and how he warms his slim fingers around the little paper cup. The most beautiful man in the world is happy to be here, between the grocery store and the coffee shop with him. He gets the itch in his palms that he could say something insane to Jay if given a single chance.
“Matt?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah?” Matt shakes his head, shakes out the impulse
“I said, we should go inside. It’s cold.”
“For sure.” He nods.
“Where did you go?” He chuckles.
Fuck.
“Uh -“ Matt turns to face him, and before he can come up with an easy lie, says: “I’m in love with you. Like you’d throw up if you ever knew how much.”
Jay blinks at him.
“So much, Bird, I feel like we reverse engineered the concept of it and - and we did it the best out of anyone. We basically invented it. I had to start from first principles because, well - fuck! I’m being so stupid right now…” He rubs a hand over his face. “But it’s like you deserved the undistilled shit?”
Jay stands still and bites his lip, Matt can’t read his expression but wouldn’t be surprised if he turns and runs away.
“That’s what’s on my mind. In front of the CBD for dogs store. Can you believe there are people on there right now? They have to be actors. Like in between commercials these guys stand around in -“
“Matt-”
“Look, you asked and I was too deep in it to make something up -”
Jay pulls him into a hug. The hot chocolate sloshes out of the cup and a few drops of it land on Matt’s ear but he doesn’t say anything, just clings onto his jacket.
“I -” Jay starts to say, and then stops.
“It’s okay.”
“What am I supposed to say to that?” Jay chuckles, his voice sounding a little ragged. He smells like chocolate and hazelnut syrup.
“No clue.” He says.
Jay nearly squeezes the breath out of him. It makes sense that Jay, an intuitive musician, can sometimes communicate what he wants to say through movement and touch better than he can with words — maybe it’s a small part of why he’s had difficulty with affection his entire life, knowing it was too honest. Matt hopes he feels what he’s saying right now, that it’s okay, that he’s right, yes, yes, yes, ditto.
They part as someone exits the shop, realizing they were standing directly in front of the door. The two of them look at each other without saying anything before it devolves into a quiet laugh shared between them. Jay’s eyes are a little watery, it could be from the cold.
“Lasagna?”
“Hell yes.” He grabs Jay’s arm to go inside. “Man, even dogs are getting high now...” Matt shakes his head in disappointment.
The store is intolerably busy. Matt checks his phone and realizes it’s a Sunday, God help them. Jay looks like a young, doomed European getting pushed out of a Jeep onto the beaches of Normandy. Matt knows he doesn’t look much better. A child runs past them out of the store, face covered in - something, exhausted parents hurrying behind and each shoulder checking Matt.
“We - we have a list, Bird. We’ll be in and out of here before you know it.”
“Uh-huh.”
—
“Do you think that the lasagna noodle was the first one, and then they started cutting them up?”
Matt stays quiet in the aisle with the hope that Jay has more to say on the subject. Jay wilts slightly, knowing he’s only been given the floor because he said something strange.
“Or like - was the guy, or girl, that made it, was it a mistake?”
He honestly doesn’t know. Both options sound plausible.
“Bird. One single day – I’d give anything,” Matt says, “Just to spend a day in your mind.”
“You wouldn't last an hour.” He smiles.
Matt doesn’t doubt it, and the same goes for Jay with him.
“Okay, first roadblock - how many cups is one onion?”
Jay squints, as though he has any frame of reference to work this out himself.
“Can you picture it? Now halve that amount.”
Jay closes his eyes.
“Let's get two. Just in case. It’d be gross if it was more than that.” Jay says.
“Yes, okay.” Matt nods. “Two of the most wonderful onions.”
They run down the list, dodging the carts and impatient shoppers coming from and on their way to obligations Matt can’t fathom. He feels good. His confession earlier unsettled him but he’ll just have to live with that risk now that his feelings for Jay have been uncorked. Jay keeps staring at him and he prays that it’s a good sign. He really does want a day in his mind as an observer, if only so he can see himself through Jay’s eyes, hell or high water.
They go through the list of ingredients haphazardly, ping-ponging to opposite ends of the store because it’s fancier than their usual spot. Matt stations Jay in the snack aisle as he takes a bathroom break. He’s despairing, if only on principle, about how they’re about to spend one million fucking dollars on this meal. A faint and unpracticed adult voice in his mind says that most of the leftover ingredients could be used for future recipes before they go bad, but it just sounds like nonsense to him.
He finds Jay in the same place he left him, contemplating the variety of chips with a comical seriousness.
“Hey, couldn’t help but notice you from the home goods aisle...” Matt says, his voice low. “You’re kinda cute, can I take you away from all this?”
Jay cocks his head, but a blush creeps up to his ears.
“Only kinda?” He says, shifting his gaze.
“Sorry - I mean, I was trying to play it cool.” Matt chuckles. “You’re so beautiful it makes me wanna blow my fucking brains out.”
“Well, in that case -” Jay grins, but he looks down at the cart and shrugs. “But I’m spoken for…and I have all these groceries…”
“Right, right.” Matt nods. “See, I was really playing it cool, just now, the truth is - I’ve been pursuing you and I beat him to death in the bathroom.”
Jay cringes. “Eugh. Which one are you, in this scenario?”
“The murderer, obviously!” Matt says. “And I’ve just laid my claim on you.”
“Okay - will you buy me these, killer?” He holds up a bag of some ridiculous novelty chips in a shiny, neon purple bag.
“Korean BBQ…honey…churros…” Matt squints. “Huh.”
“Crazy, right?”
“We live in such a big world. It warms the heart.” He takes the bag and tosses them in the cart. “So can I kidnap you and like, manifest my salacious desires upon your body or what?”
“I don’t know… I’m kind of high maintenance.” Jay pushes a hand through his hair.
“You sure?” He says, reaching out one hand to gently tug on his shirt collar. “Got your loyalty with one bag of chips.”
“They’re seven dollars.”
“Fucks sake - ”
“Did we get everything?” Jay says, in his I’d like to leave voice.
Matt peruses the recipe, and nods in relief. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
At checkout he closes his eyes in front of the card terminal, pretending he didn’t see or hear the total.
They bravely endure the humiliation ritual of “too many bags on the bus” and don’t talk about much of anything, the day is still young and Matt internally concedes they didn’t need to block out twelve entire hours for this. But he’s happy.
—
Once everything is put down Jay looks at Matt, resting back against the kitchen counter. All he has to do is stand still and wait for Matt and he knows it. He’s easy. They’re both easy because it took them so long to figure it out, now it just fills up every gap like water into sand. Automatically his arms wrap around Jay’s and he kisses him, lightly at first before Jay’s tongue is teasing his upper lip. Matt pushes his hands underneath Jay’s sweater and traces along his spine, squeezes at his hip over his button up shirt. Part of Matt wonders how this can still feel so good. A mental alarm goes off in his head that they’re rapidly approaching another Beef Wellington incident.
“Okay!” He shouts.
Jay flinches.
“We’re canoodling when we should be cooking!”
“Right.” Jay nods.
Matt unfolds the recipe onto the kitchen counter. “Let’s get serious.”
“Remember - you promised you’re not gonna Gordan Ramsey me this time.”
“I’m not gonna Gordan Ramsey you. I’m gonna be so sweet to you, Birdie.” He rubs his shoulder. “You’re my sweetie pie. My lovey.”
“Stop…” Jay giggles.
“Right. But we can be serious about it.”
Jay’s posture straightens. “Yes.”
“We should probably chop first…”
“The aprons!” Jay says, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen.
On the inaugural and ill-fated Big Dinner Day, they’d purchased two matching “Kiss The Cook” aprons and hadn’t worn them since. Jay grins at him as he ties his on and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. The house could explode into rubble in two hours and Matt would still consider this a really, really good day.
Five minutes later, things seem like they’re going south.
“It’s all sticking to the bottom of the pot, Matt, it’s ruined!”
Matt stares at the pot of ground meat and it’s looking pretty grim. A bunch of burned up bits are smeared on the bottom. It smells good though.
“Maybe it’s supposed to…?”
“We have the wrong kind of pot. It’s all burnt.”
“There’s no way. They - they would have specified the kind of pot, right? Fuck. The meat was so expensive. They only sold the humane stuff. Like, why do I care about how it was feeling -“
“Matt!”
“Let’s just. Okay.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Does this look browned to you?”
“It looks burnt…” Jay says, despairing.
“I mean it’s not black, so we just have to uh - ‘deglaze’ with the red wine.”
“What does that mean?”
“No clue. Should I just pour some in?”
“Won’t that catch on fire…?”
“That’d be cool -“ He inspects the bottle. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“I bought the fucking - the nice stuff. It has a cork.” He starts rifling through the drawers. “Where’s the corkscrew?” He shouts.
“Don’t yell at me like that!”
“Sorry.”
“Oh!” Jay says. “You were using it for your -“
“The Possessed Sommelier!” Matt shouts, but not at Jay, so he doesn’t get scolded. “It’s probably still stuck in the wall.”
Matt runs into the living room and hops up onto the couch. The sommelier bit had legs, he makes a note to revisit it later. He returns triumphantly to the kitchen.
“Yes!” Jay cheers.
“Okay. Now we just have to, uh.” He fiddles with the corkscrew and its little hinges.
“Trade me.” Jay says.
“You only ever brought screw top shit into the apartment, Bird.” He says, but complies.
“I’ve done it a few times.” He screws into the cork and affixes the opener. “My mom showed me how. I’d play waiter when she had friends over and they got too drunk to do it.”
“Right. God, that- that sounds so fun.” Matt sighs, heavily.
The cork pops out and they both cheer.
With profound apprehension, Jay pours a small amount into the pot. They both jump at the steam but there’s no fireball or grease explosion, and the little brown bits come up from the bottom.
“Holy shit -“ Matt says. “Bird…are we doing this right now?”
Jay nods emphatically.
After that hurdle, the rest of the prep is relatively smooth. They both get bored with watching the sauce, even when they take turns, banishing each other to ‘sauce duty’ when they break a made up rule. There’s an argument about layer proportions and what constitutes ‘a dollop’ but by the grace of God, the lasagna is nestled into a preheated oven.
“Jay, straight from the bottle?” Matt says as he catches him taking a drink of the wine. “You’re not twenty-four, man. Get a glass, or like, wait for dinner.”
Jay’s eyebrows furrow. “There’s no way there’s a difference between the good and bad stuff, right? It’s all just marketing.”
“I think it’s a location thing. Like real estate. People want swanky grapes. And I sprung for the good stuff as a romantic gesture, so it’s going in a glass.”
“Do we have wine glasses?” Jay asks.
“It’s going in the nice cups.” Matt will figure out which ones are nice closer to dinner. “Help me get the table ready.”
They clear off the table near the staircase and drag it into the space between the bunk beds and living area. Matt steps outside to shake the dust from a tablecloth he found downstairs this morning and lays it out.
“Hey Matt?” Jay says as he brings out some candles from a cabinet in the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
“This is gonna be lunch. It’s 3PM.” He laughs.
“It still has to cook! And cool down.” Matt says, trying not to sound wounded and failing. “We’re gonna be well within dinner hours.”
They’ve set three separate timers for the moment they need to uncover the lasagna. In the meantime, Matt does a dramatic reading of the blog post by the recipe author, which Jay accompanies on piano.
“I hope she divorced him…” Jay says when Matt’s finished.
“I’m not picking a side until we see how dinner turns out.” Matt crosses the room to ruffle Jay’s hair. His head tips back and rests against his rib cage, looking at him nearly upside down with his ridiculous brown eyes.
“It’s been nice today.” Jay says, shyly.
Matt grins, cupping the sides of his face and running his thumbs over his cheeks.
—
Upon investigation, the lasagna hasn’t turned into hazardous waste or caught fire in the last forty minutes. Only ten minutes to go. They nearly forget the garlic bread and tuck it in on the rack below.
The winter sun starts to set, Matt closes the curtains and blinds so the candles look a little better. He should have bought flowers.
“Are these nice cups?” Jay asks from the kitchen, holding up two mismatched coffee mugs.
“What about glasses?”
“I like these ones...” He adjusts them around to show Matt, one featuring a cartoon dog with headphones on and the Doom logo. They are their respective favorites. He nods.
The timer beeps and they both jump. This is the moment of truth. Matt sprints into the kitchen, knocking his knee on the table as Jay puts on the oven mitts.
The rush of hot air is overwhelming, and inside they see:
“Lasagna!” Jay shouts. With deft caution, he extracts it from the oven and places it on the cooktop. It’s crispy around the edges and steaming. Matt’s heart beats so fast it makes him lightheaded.
“It’s beautiful…” He says. “I feel like - a paternal instinct towards this thing. Like I impregnated you this morning and this is our baby.”
“Jesus Christ, Matt…”
While admiring their lasagna baby, they forget about the bread and the bottom half of it burns.
Matt pulls Jay into a hug as they wait for it to cool down, kissing at the spot below his ear. It’s his favorite place on Jay to kiss besides his mouth, followed by the bottom of his sternum, his inner thighs, followed by everywhere else on his body. If he keeps his eyes open when he’s nestled into his neck he can see the tiny sparse section of hair behind his ear, a spot he pulled at nervously so much it didn’t grow back. He squeezes him a little tighter and Jay laughs, pulling Matt out of his reverie.
“It smells really good.” Jay says, his arms slung around Matt’s shoulders.
They cut it open and it doesn’t spit out blinding acid, nothing sentient crawls out and it doesn’t turn into a putrid goo. Neither of them speak as they carry mismatched plates to the table, the candles are lit and Matt insists on pouring the wine. He takes both of Jay’s hands once they sit down.
“Are you about to say grace?” Jay asks.
“No.” He says. “I just want to say - no matter what happens, I think we learned a lot. And today was great - really awesome. I want to do this again.”
“Well, yeah!” Jay says, in a Duh tone.
“Yeah?”
“Why would I not want to do this again if we fuck up? We fuck up all the time.”
“Of course -“ Matt chuckles, his heart exploding into a trillion shiny pieces of confetti, each individually catching the light at a perfect, prismatic angle. “You’re right. Let’s eat!”
They maintain steady eye contact with each other as they take a bite. It’s fantastic, the best anyone’s ever done it, and they both burst into giddy, hysterical laughter as a form of agreement.
“We fucking did it!” He stands up from the table, jumping up and down with the fork and knife in his hands. “Fuck everyone who said we couldn’t!”
“Who said we couldn’t?”
“I don’t know, but fuck ‘em!”
“Yeah!”
They eat an unreasonable amount of lasagna, Jay has three glasses of wine and Matt has one, but it’s enough to soften him up. They don’t clean up the kitchen and just barely remember to put the single leftover portion into the fridge, and cuddle up onto the couch. Matt wants to lay on top of him but Jay insists he’ll explode if he’s put under any amount of pressure, so Matt lays his head in his lap.
“Hey, Matt?” Jay says, just on the edge of sleep.
“Hm?” He says, lost in the feeling of Jay petting his hair and half-watching the television.
“Earlier today,“ He sighs, and Matt knows the tone of him searching for words. “When you told me all of that stuff…”
“You don’t have to -“ Matt tries to turn and look up at him, but Jay keeps his hand steady on his head so they don’t make eye contact. His heart starts to race.
“I know.” He says, “But I didn’t say it back and - I don’t know, Matt. It’s hard for me.”
“Birdie…”
“Let me talk for a second, please?”
Matt sighs, feeling like he’s about to turn inside out.
“It’s really, really hard for me. I like when you say it, a lot. Even saying that…” He pauses, lets out a nervous laugh.
Jay continues. “But because it feels like I can’t, or not as easily, I start to feel bad. But you -“ He takes a shaky, deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”
Matt clings onto Jay’s leg, suddenly dizzy even though he’s lying down. His body temperature rises exponentially. “Yeah.”
“I can’t describe it like you can…” His voice starts to shake. “Matt I just don’t want you to not feel it. I guess. The idea of that, it - it hurts.”
He tries to keep Matt from sitting up again but he doesn’t comply, shifting to sit on his knees and putting both of his hands on Jay’s shoulders. His eyes are closed and his head is turned away from Matt, jaw clenched tightly.
“Look at me.”
Jay shakes his head. Matt can see his breath rising and falling in his chest, he looks terrified.
“Okay, it’s okay…” Matt says, as softly as he can. “I do feel it. All the time. This afternoon when I was acting crazy, you said it in your own way, right?”
Jay’s lips press into a thin line as he nods, his eyes shutting even tighter and hiccuping breath escapes him.
“Come here, I got your psychic message! Don’t feel bad -” Matt embraces him. “Don’t ever feel bad about that, Jaybird. You’re perfect.”
Jay cries with an eerie quietness into his shoulder. He rarely lets himself get here, and always does it like if anyone hears him he’ll get in trouble.
“Matt…” He says, sniffling.
“I’ve got you.” Matt says. “You’re my guy - I’m your guy. We’re on the same page.”
Jay squeezes him a little tighter. They hold onto each other for a while.
“I think I drank too much.” Jay says, already starting to button himself up. “Haven’t had wine in years…”
He detaches from Matt, wiping at his eyes.
“Can we go to bed?” Jay asks. “I know it’s early…”
“Works for me.” He kisses Jay on the forehead and stands up. “Let’s split like, an entire bottle of tums and pass the fuck out.”
Jay smiles up at him. Matt can’t wait for tomorrow.