be there in a few (probably more than a few on account of how crazy it is outside)
[ AND LO, Jeff arrives after some time with coffee and... an avocado, if only because avocados are the rarest ingredient in his hangover sandwich and he figures it's safe to assume Peter has everything else. Eggs, bacon, bread, and pickles are total 1950s kitchen staples. ]
Dude, I'm so glad your AC is working. It's like a fucking oven out there!
[ Which is why he's kind of sweaty and his t-shirt's clinging to his skin. SORRY, PETER. ]
[ Which may as well be 100 coming in from the northwest coast. He wipes a hand through his damp hair now that he's sat up in bed. Thank God he was too drunk to undress; this might be a little awkward, otherwise. ]
Last I checked I had the basics in my kitchen. Didn't try to eat any of it since, you know, it was fake.
[ Jeff laughs, all sunny disposition in the face of Peter's killer hangover. ] Man... 80's totally mild where I'm from. All you need's a good fan to get a breeze going!
[ And his smile dims a little, sympathetic. ]
Yeah... I probably went a whole day without eating when I got here. [ Besides the magic fruit in the jar that showed up with him. No way was he about to take the risk of fading away into nothing. As soon as his fingertips started to tingle, he downed those berries. ] Nothing like getting swept up in a dream to kill a guy's appetite. [ That and seeing people turn into pigs from the food here.
[ He's rusty with this, with dealing with hangovers. It's been years since he's drank enough to feel it the next day, and it's not like his daughter's ever needed his help with it. (Yet.)
But he tries to remember the little tricks that worked for him, back in the day. Room temp water, so the cold doesn't fuck with his stomach. Aspirin, if he can find any in the kitchen. ]
Hangovers are punishment enough on their own, so... [ As he hands Peter the water and offers a bottle of aspirin. ] Try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?
Thank you. [ He takes his room temperature glass of water and pops a few aspirin before gulping the whole drink down. ] I'll be here if you need be. Trying to collect my dignity.
Nahhh. [ Jeff backs out into the doorway, then holds up his hands, thumbs and index fingers pointed at each other, as if he's framing a shot of Peter on the bed. ] Still got your clothes on. No puke anywhere in sight. You look plenty dignified!
[ Okay, that's enough of that. Time to start the coffee and make a hangover sandwich! Cook up some... bacon... (please don't be cursed. It's not cursed, right, it can't be, because he hasn't seen anyone turn into a pig in months...) fry up a couple of eggs... Slice that avocado... Slap it all on some toast and top that off with some pickles. It's all pretty quick and easy, and Jeff has to stop himself from doing extra, like heating up a can of beans or making pancakes or slicing a bunch of fruit or whatever.
Dad instincts-- which totally don't apply when he's hanging out with a guy who's, like, a peer.
(He's way too used to being around kids.)
Eventually Jeff returns with the breakfast sandwich, and another glass of water. ]
You know, I usually don't make a guy breakfast in bed unless he bought me dinner the night before.
[ Jeff smiles, clearly a little charmed by the invitation to sit-- by the notion that it might be forward, even if it's, like, a totally practical thing on account of the lack of furniture.
Still! It's gentlemanly. ]
It's not too forward. [ At least he's careful not to jostle the mattress much when he sits down. Who knows if sudden movement will turn Peter's stomach inside out. He points at the other man. ]
And I'm holding you to that. [ The dinner thing. ] It's a date.
[ Wait. Jeff's been here too long. That's something to say under normal circumstances, not... to a guy who just found himself in a crazy dream world and drank himself sick in an attempt to wake up. Is he being too presumptuous? Insensitive? Should he laugh his own comment off as a joke or just backtrack and give Peter an out from any awkwardness or what? ] I mean! Or... it's a not-a-date! [ What are those things called again? ] A hangout of peers! No pressure-- unless you want-- Uh. I'm-- I feel like I'm being weird right now. Am I being weird right now?
I'd call it cute, but... [ Peter seamlessly shrug with perfect seriousness. ] I'm also sick from alcohol poisoning, so maybe take it with a grain of salt.
You know how often I get called cute? [ NOT OFTEN ENOUGH, BUDDY. ] I'm taking that as the raw, unfiltered, totally objective truth of a handsome man with exceptional taste.
Me too. About ten years, which is, like, a record for me... [ Ten years since his last bad hangover, that is. ] Hey, if you need somebody to slap a drink out of your hand the next time you think you might get wasted, I'm your guy. [ With a smile, he adds: ] I've got a lot of experience.
Experience being a buzzkill? That's a thankless job right there. [ It's hard to tell whether Peter is actually kidding. Enjoy puzzling out his terrible humor, Jeff. ] But I'll remember that, thanks.
How about instead of knocking a shot out of my hand, could you fill me back up? [ He grabs his empty glass off the bedside table. ]
[ Jeff snorts out a laugh, taking that deadpan remark as the joke it better have been intended as! ]
You're lucky you're good looking. [ Jeff takes that glass, getting up to go get that refil. ] And that I'm taking pity on you in your painfully hungover state!
Good-looking... [ Peter will definitely take that compliment, thank you. He has no leg to stand on here, but Jeff seems to enjoy his sense of humor and play, so he adds, ]
Tell me more about that. After you get me some water.
[ Okay okay hang on, let Jeff go fill that glass back up. ]
I'm a simple man. I like 'em tall, rugged, and good at holding their liquor. [ Teasingly, as he passes the water back to Peter: ] But two out of three isn't bad.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I cant say no to this kind of logic
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I'm working with rock hard logic here buddy!
Need me to bring anything or did your kitchen come fully stocked?
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im in one of the farmhouses on clover
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--> action
be there in a few
(probably more than a few on account of how crazy it is outside)
[ AND LO, Jeff arrives after some time with coffee and... an avocado, if only because avocados are the rarest ingredient in his hangover sandwich and he figures it's safe to assume Peter has everything else. Eggs, bacon, bread, and pickles are total 1950s kitchen staples. ]
Dude, I'm so glad your AC is working. It's like a fucking oven out there!
[ Which is why he's kind of sweaty and his t-shirt's clinging to his skin. SORRY, PETER. ]
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[ Which may as well be 100 coming in from the northwest coast. He wipes a hand through his damp hair now that he's sat up in bed. Thank God he was too drunk to undress; this might be a little awkward, otherwise. ]
Last I checked I had the basics in my kitchen. Didn't try to eat any of it since, you know, it was fake.
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[ And his smile dims a little, sympathetic. ]
Yeah... I probably went a whole day without eating when I got here. [ Besides the magic fruit in the jar that showed up with him. No way was he about to take the risk of fading away into nothing. As soon as his fingertips started to tingle, he downed those berries. ] Nothing like getting swept up in a dream to kill a guy's appetite. [ That and seeing people turn into pigs from the food here.
SPEAKING OF: ]
You need anything before I get started?
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You mind a water?
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[ He's rusty with this, with dealing with hangovers. It's been years since he's drank enough to feel it the next day, and it's not like his daughter's ever needed his help with it. (Yet.)
But he tries to remember the little tricks that worked for him, back in the day. Room temp water, so the cold doesn't fuck with his stomach. Aspirin, if he can find any in the kitchen. ]
Hangovers are punishment enough on their own, so... [ As he hands Peter the water and offers a bottle of aspirin. ] Try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?
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[ Ha ha. ]
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[ Okay, that's enough of that. Time to start the coffee and make a hangover sandwich! Cook up some... bacon... (please don't be cursed. It's not cursed, right, it can't be, because he hasn't seen anyone turn into a pig in months...) fry up a couple of eggs... Slice that avocado... Slap it all on some toast and top that off with some pickles. It's all pretty quick and easy, and Jeff has to stop himself from doing extra, like heating up a can of beans or making pancakes or slicing a bunch of fruit or whatever.
Dad instincts-- which totally don't apply when he's hanging out with a guy who's, like, a peer.
(He's way too used to being around kids.)
Eventually Jeff returns with the breakfast sandwich, and another glass of water. ]
You know, I usually don't make a guy breakfast in bed unless he bought me dinner the night before.
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[ He stares at Jeff for a moment, clearly considering something as his lower jaw juts a little to the side. ]
Is it forward to offer you a seat on the bed?
[ There's no other furniture to sit on in here. ]
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Still! It's gentlemanly. ]
It's not too forward. [ At least he's careful not to jostle the mattress much when he sits down. Who knows if sudden movement will turn Peter's stomach inside out. He points at the other man. ]
And I'm holding you to that. [ The dinner thing. ] It's a date.
[ Wait. Jeff's been here too long. That's something to say under normal circumstances, not... to a guy who just found himself in a crazy dream world and drank himself sick in an attempt to wake up. Is he being too presumptuous? Insensitive? Should he laugh his own comment off as a joke or just backtrack and give Peter an out from any awkwardness or what? ] I mean! Or... it's a not-a-date! [ What are those things called again? ] A hangout of peers! No pressure-- unless you want-- Uh. I'm-- I feel like I'm being weird right now. Am I being weird right now?
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Even if he's sick from alcohol poisoning.
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Thank you, by the way. I'd have been found dead in my sheets after a few days.
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[ Jeff returns the smile, leaning back on his hands. ]
No problem. I've been in your shoes a few times, myself. [ A beat. ] Okay, more than a few times.
[ But that's all behind him now! ]
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How about instead of knocking a shot out of my hand, could you fill me back up? [ He grabs his empty glass off the bedside table. ]
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You're lucky you're good looking. [ Jeff takes that glass, getting up to go get that refil. ] And that I'm taking pity on you in your painfully hungover state!
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Tell me more about that. After you get me some water.
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I'm a simple man. I like 'em tall, rugged, and good at holding their liquor. [ Teasingly, as he passes the water back to Peter: ] But two out of three isn't bad.
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Mm, I'm not all that tall. Will you take one out of three?