Not As Easy As It Looks

 

The fake fireplace was blazing as the guys placed themselves in their usual positions on the floor of the loft facing it. What was different on this evening was that it was Justin who put his arm around Brian, which was opposite to the standard procedure. And there was a reason.

"It's all right, Brian," Justin consoled the big guy. "It's really all right."

"It is not all right," Brian growled. "It is not all right at all. Wait till I get a hold of Ms. Margie McAdams. She lies."

"I think I met Ms. McAdams once, Bri, and she seemed like a nice lady to me," Justin recalled.

"She didn't lie to you," Brian pointed out. "Her and her old 'All in a Box Specialty Dinners.' I have a notion to quit that account."

"Those things have a pretty good reputation, Brian," Justin reminded him. "Lots of people send away for them and they're not cheap either. They're like gourmet stuff, and everything you need comes with the order. It sounds like a great idea, and your ad campaign is real good too. Sells a lot of 'All in the Boxes,' I bet."

"Well she told me that anyone could prepare them," Brian was still grouching. "She said they were foolproof – that anybody could do it. She convinced me that I could do it, so I decided to surprise you and cook one up. I wanted to show you I could do it. And I guess I more likely poisoned you instead of impressing you. That meal completely sucked."

"Well maybe it was just that it was Venetian Meat Loaf," Justin suggested. "Maybe we don't like Venetian Meat Loaf. Maybe we need to try another variety."

"Linz did the Venetian Meat Loaf and she said it was delicious," Brian's mood was unimproved. "She said I should take Ms. Margie the Liar's advice and try it. If it was so damn delicious for Lindsay, how come it was so lousy for me?"

"Gee whiz, Bri, I don't know," Justin wondered. "Did you follow the directions? Did everything seem to be going OK?"

"Well I had some trouble getting the oven turned on," Brian admitted. "Those damn stoves are pretty complicated these days. Takes an Einstein to get the oven lit."

"Well you're as smart as Einstein then," Justin grinned carefully. "Cause you got it to work – but I would have expected no less. Did you set the oven for the right temperature?'

"Geez," Brian replied. "I paid enough for that top-of –the-line range. You mean it doesn't come set to the right temperature? It should – considering how much it cost."

"Well actually," Justin suppressed the grin as a political move. "Different stuff gets cooked at different temperatures so you do have to set it. Maybe that was part of the problem. Didn't the directions give a suggested temperature?"

"Yeah, I think they did," Brian recalled, "But that salesman told me that this oven thought for itself so I figured the oven would just take care of it. This cooking business is a pain. I hate it."

"Brian Kinney," Justin stopped Brian's wallowing. "You can do anything you put your mind to, so if you decide to become a cook, Emeril better look out."

"Who's Emeril?" Brian wondered.

"I think he's a famous cook," Justin responded. "I see his name in the crossword puzzles. They say he's a famous cook."

Brian didn't respond so Justin waited a while and then tried another tack.

"Hey, Brian," he asked. "Remember the first time I ever tried to cook up that jambalaya. Remember what a mess that was?"

"I don't like to remember that night at all," Brian told him. "I think I was the meanest that I've ever been that night. And I told you I was sorry."

"Yeah you did," Justin recalled. "And I'm sorry I brought it up – but it does show that even a good cook like modest little me can have a really bad session in the kitchen."

"Yeah," Brian started a little smile. "You are a bit clumsy sometimes – that's true – but actually the jambalaya tasted pretty good."

"The next night," Justin jibed.

"OK, Baby," Brian finally did smile." You know I told you I was sorry about that time, and I am, but I never told you why I did what I did. When I saw you with all that mess, what I wanted to do was just take you in my arms and tell you it was all right. That's what I wanted to do - and that scared me, so much that I did the opposite and acted like a complete bastard. So I apologize again. I really am sorry."

It was not the new apology that impressed Justin at all. "You wanted to take me in your arms and tell me everything was OK when you thought I had ruined that dinner?" was what he asked.

"Yeah," Brian admitted. "But you're so good at cooking now that I'll never have to demonstrate it. That's why I figured it was safe to tell you now."

"You think so, Kinney," Justin came back with a devilish smile. "You know what, I think I'll cook something up tomorrow and just maybe you'll get your chance to demonstrate your sympathy. Yeah, maybe I'm sure you will."

"Geez, Baby," Brian replied. "Maybe if you want me to, I could demonstrate right now. What do you think?"

"Well if you think it would make you feel better," Justin conjectured, "Maybe it's worth a try."

The next little while was spent in the aforementioned demonstration which both of them thought was well worth the effort. And it made them both feel better too.

It was Justin who eventually resumed the discussion. "Gee whiz," he sort of gasped. "It took you a long time to get around to doing that, Bri. How come it took you so long?"

"I guess I was never facing a ptomaine attack before," Brian presumed. "People will go out of their way to prevent getting poisoned. Probably do anything to keep from being poisoned."

"If people don't want to get poisoned, Mr. Kinney," Justin presumed back at him. "They might be better served being careful to keep the cook happy, and not come up with any wise-ass remarks which just might peeve him, however slightly."

"My humblest apologies, JT," Brian laughed at him. "I meant no offense. You know what I just might do to keep you happy, Sweetheart. If you cook dinner tomorrow – and if it's real good, I just might take you in my arms and tell you how good it was. But, of course, only if it's real good."

"I'll really try, Honey, I'll do my best," Justin put his head on Brian's shoulder as Brian's arm encircled him. It made for a beautiful domestic scene, which pertained for quite a while.

It was Brian who finally spoke. "And what do you think you'll prepare for tomorrow's big gourmet dinner, Baby?"

Justin replied with a coy smile. "Well, BK," he told Brian. "What I was thinking of actually was – Venetian Meat Loaf."

That achieved Justin's real goal. It inspired Brian to conduct another demonstration
 

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