[ When the three bottles are set down, Jeff-- who'd been picking at a piece of bread, debating over which sauce to try first-- lifts his brows, first in alarm (are we going to chug three bottles of wine before Hamilton?), then in... admiration, honestly. Because damn, Cameron Waltz, that's a slick move, and Jeff's impressed and feeling all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside.
Oh, and after he takes a moment to admire the move and revel in his own pleasant reaction, that's when it finally clicks together. Flirting. This is flirting. Cam's flirting with him. Cam's... been flirting with him? And Jeff can't say he's not receptive to it, not with how nice it feels.
It's just that he's surprised, because he went into this under the assumption that Cam found him generally distasteful. If he had to speculate as to the other man's type, he'd have figured it to be more, uh. Sophisticated and way more expensively dressed than himself.
(Also, there's the "Does the fact that I like this mean I'm bi? I mean, it'd explain a lot of fantasies I've had over the years, but I've never done anything with a man before, so--" internal debate. But that's going to have to be tabled for later.)
Look. He's just going to blame the weed for his missing any earlier cues. And as for the wine... He picks the bottle with a label that's a little quirky and a little pretty-- faux-Rococo, with an irreverent twist. It's the label's sense of humor that makes it the winner.
Grabbing the bottle, he presents it to Cam like he's Vanna freaking White. ]
This fine vintage. And, if it's bad, it's not my fault.
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Oh, and after he takes a moment to admire the move and revel in his own pleasant reaction, that's when it finally clicks together. Flirting. This is flirting. Cam's flirting with him. Cam's... been flirting with him? And Jeff can't say he's not receptive to it, not with how nice it feels.
It's just that he's surprised, because he went into this under the assumption that Cam found him generally distasteful. If he had to speculate as to the other man's type, he'd have figured it to be more, uh. Sophisticated and way more expensively dressed than himself.
(Also, there's the "Does the fact that I like this mean I'm bi? I mean, it'd explain a lot of fantasies I've had over the years, but I've never done anything with a man before, so--" internal debate. But that's going to have to be tabled for later.)
Look. He's just going to blame the weed for his missing any earlier cues. And as for the wine... He picks the bottle with a label that's a little quirky and a little pretty-- faux-Rococo, with an irreverent twist. It's the label's sense of humor that makes it the winner.
Grabbing the bottle, he presents it to Cam like he's Vanna freaking White. ]
This fine vintage. And, if it's bad, it's not my fault.