I love that everyone is giving me food prompts! I should have just made it All About Food.
"Wait, Cash, are you cooking? Like, seriously?" Ian rubs the sleep out of his eyes (he kind of took a nap after practice, well, after smoking up anyway).
"Like I don't know how to cook. I'm fucking awesome, watch this--" Cash starts chopping the eggplant into, dude, those are really even slices. Damn.
"Cool," says Ian, hopping up on the stool next to the counter to watch. It's almost hypnotic, the way Cash keeps chopping things so they turn out all even. Chop chop chop, in this really solid rhythm. Also, he looks focused, the way Cash almost never does, focused and serious and, what's that word? Intent, that's it. Intent.
Ian smiles a little to himself and decides he's going to think of more ways for Cash to focus like that. Hmm. Maybe if he--no, that won't work, that'll just make him more unfocused. Plus, he always moves, no matter how much Ian holds his hips down.
Blinking, Ian looks up at Cash, who just snapped his fingers in Ian's face. "What?"
Cash has lost his serious look, smirking at Ian's confusion. "Dude, I bet I know what you're thinking."
"No you don't," Ian replies instantly.
"Really?" Cash reaches out and thumbs at Ian's lower lip. "Really really?"
"...maybe a little. It's not my fault, you're all--" Ian waves his hand at Cash in a way that is supposed to mean "hot and focused and shit." He's not sure if it gets across to Cash; he mostly looks confused.
But then he shakes his head. "Come here for a sec," he says.
Ian thinks about refusing, but Cash has some of that focus back in his eyes, and no, yeah, okay.
So he slides off the stool and then he slides to his knees, looks up, and there it is, that look he wants, and he closes his eyes and leans into Cash's hand, Cash's grip on his hair.
no subject
"Wait, Cash, are you cooking? Like, seriously?" Ian rubs the sleep out of his eyes (he kind of took a nap after practice, well, after smoking up anyway).
"Like I don't know how to cook. I'm fucking awesome, watch this--" Cash starts chopping the eggplant into, dude, those are really even slices. Damn.
"Cool," says Ian, hopping up on the stool next to the counter to watch. It's almost hypnotic, the way Cash keeps chopping things so they turn out all even. Chop chop chop, in this really solid rhythm. Also, he looks focused, the way Cash almost never does, focused and serious and, what's that word? Intent, that's it. Intent.
Ian smiles a little to himself and decides he's going to think of more ways for Cash to focus like that. Hmm. Maybe if he--no, that won't work, that'll just make him more unfocused. Plus, he always moves, no matter how much Ian holds his hips down.
Blinking, Ian looks up at Cash, who just snapped his fingers in Ian's face. "What?"
Cash has lost his serious look, smirking at Ian's confusion. "Dude, I bet I know what you're thinking."
"No you don't," Ian replies instantly.
"Really?" Cash reaches out and thumbs at Ian's lower lip. "Really really?"
"...maybe a little. It's not my fault, you're all--" Ian waves his hand at Cash in a way that is supposed to mean "hot and focused and shit." He's not sure if it gets across to Cash; he mostly looks confused.
But then he shakes his head. "Come here for a sec," he says.
Ian thinks about refusing, but Cash has some of that focus back in his eyes, and no, yeah, okay.
So he slides off the stool and then he slides to his knees, looks up, and there it is, that look he wants, and he closes his eyes and leans into Cash's hand, Cash's grip on his hair.