"Hey. Glad you could make it," John said over his shoulder, tending the BBQ. He'd heard the scrap of the sliding door as they entered from the living room out into the courtyard/open area/garden/what the hell ever. The 'courtyard' was largely made up of square pavers spread out in a chessboard pattern, with stones filling the gap between each paver that wasn't quite half a foot wide, lined by the house on two sides, and by a rather wild series of roses on the other two sides, and the fence after that. John wasn't really great at the pruning: some of the domestic stuff was far more work than he was prepared for.
John was wearing his usual jeans-and-t-shirt, with whatever slogan on it covered by the apron he was wearing. Fire he could control, but not spitting oil and fat, even if he was untouched by the heat. He'd even considered wearing the 'Fuck the Cook' one, but that had gotten him such a Look from Bobby that John had silently put it back on the cupboard. There were some sliced vegetables (potato, sweet potato, asparagus) on the hotplate, tomato grilling along side a variety of meats, as well as some skewers with chicken and bell peppers and onion: John liked to cook and cook well. And he didn't have to do more than look at the damn thing to keep the fire exactly where he wanted it.
"...What have you got there, sweetheart?" he asked, eyeing the box in Bobby's hands. "I assume that Em here was far too polite." Oh, it was so suburban gay agenda material it wasn't funny.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-12-06 06:04 am (UTC)John was wearing his usual jeans-and-t-shirt, with whatever slogan on it covered by the apron he was wearing. Fire he could control, but not spitting oil and fat, even if he was untouched by the heat. He'd even considered wearing the 'Fuck the Cook' one, but that had gotten him such a Look from Bobby that John had silently put it back on the cupboard. There were some sliced vegetables (potato, sweet potato, asparagus) on the hotplate, tomato grilling along side a variety of meats, as well as some skewers with chicken and bell peppers and onion: John liked to cook and cook well. And he didn't have to do more than look at the damn thing to keep the fire exactly where he wanted it.
"...What have you got there, sweetheart?" he asked, eyeing the box in Bobby's hands. "I assume that Em here was far too polite." Oh, it was so suburban gay agenda material it wasn't funny.