hackthis_archive | KC – Five Times that Jack and Steven Never… Okay, That's a Lie

Dedicated to

nifra_idril for, you know, encouraging such behaviour. Also, as bribery so Slod will make us all icons, yaye!!

Kitchen Confidential
Jack/Steven
Five Times that Jack and Steven Never… Okay, That's a Lie

1.

Two weeks ago, it had been the steaks. Six days ago, it had been the quail. The day after that it had been the quail eggs.

This week alone it had been the abalone, haddock, a very good pound of skate and three tins of Beluga caviar, which Jack hadn't even gotten a story about.

Jack liked the stories almost as much as he liked not being whacked by Pino, but the key word there was 'almost.'

According to Jack's dick it was almost too cold in the meat locker, too. Steven didn't seem to notice though, and Jack made a noise of exasperation as the door closed behind him. "Just give it to me, whatever it is."

Steven didn't even have the grace to look ashamed when he turned around. "It wasn't me."

"It's always you, Steven, just give it to me."

"You don’t even know what's missing!" Steven protested.

It was wrong for a thirty-something man to look so wronged. It was doubly wrong for an ex-con, especially once that worked for Jack. "Right, that's it."

"That's wha-- urk"

Steven had three inches and about thirty pounds on Jack, but he was no match for the Bourdain hands. Especially when the Bourdain hands were cold and down his pants.

It really was warm down there -– Steven did have a point.

Jack felt about a bit more than was strictly necessary; he had a point too. "There's nothing down here," he said dismissively, without actually removing his hands.

Steven bristled. "On behalf of the Queen, I take –"

They both turned when the door opened and fluorescent light flooded in. "Never mind," Seth said, blinking faster than anyone Jack had ever seen. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know."

Steven snickered, but Seth held up his hands before Jack could even roll his eyes. "No one needs a chef in the kitchen anyway."

2.

"Right, so, the fittest Englishman in New York—"

"Is that supposed to be you?"

"Shut up, you're ruining the joke."

"Sorry, carry on."

"So, the fittest Englishman in New York, and some poncey bloke named Jack---"

"Hey!"

"It's a joke, keep your trousers on."

"That's not what you said last night."

"Ladies, if you can't get along, I'm going to have to separate you."

"Shut up, Seth."

"Hey!"

"Any day now, Steven."

"Right, so, the fittest Englishman in New York, some poncey bloke named Jack, and this pasty chef –"

"Pastry! That's pastry, you ignoramus."

"Okay, time, time, no more drinking for either of you."

"Shut up, traitor."

"Hey, what?"

"People who don't drink can't have an opinion."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

"You didn't say that last night."

Seth made a choking noise. "Too much information! Way, too much information."

Steven sighed. "Does that mean you don't want to hear about how Jack screams like a bird when he comes?"

3.

Jack was in bed with Steven.

Correction: Jack was in bed with Steven, shirtless, and pantless, and he wasn't in the bed as much as he seemed to be swathed over Steven like a bacon-wrapped scallop, and since Steven was in bed, Jack was in bed too.

In the plus column, being in bed with Steven meant that Jack hadn't passed out in a back alley, and no one had come along and stolen his shoes, his pants and his watch, and then pissed on his head.

That had happened before. More than once.

In the minus column, Jack was in bed with Steven.

In the plus column, Steven was warm.

In the minus column, Steven had a hairy back. It made Jack's nose itch.

In the plus column, Steven hadn't rolled over. Yet. Jack could still get away, if he could extract himself with a minimal amount of movement.

In the minus column, "Who decided that it was a good idea to test the adhesive nature of Seth's meringue by smearing it all over my stomach?" Jack asked no one in particular.

Steven just grunted. "That's all you, mate. I'd wanted to use olive oil, but you said no."

4.

The envelope was addressed in Suze's handwriting, and it had Jack's name on it. It was pretty heavy for a regular envelope, but Jack didn't think she was suing him for support considering she'd been supporting his ass for months. It wasn't as though Jack had any money even if she did need some; he could peddle his ass if she was really in need, but he didn't think he'd pick up a lot of business. He didn't think she was asking him to come back either, that wasn't really her style.

At this point, Jack was really more curious than anything else, judging by the address and the lack of stamps, she even knew he was sleeping at Nolita. Then again, Suze had always known everything; there weren't any surprises left between them, and when Jack finally opened the envelope a piece of white paper fluttered out along with several Polaroids:

I know how you two like to stick together, so I thought you might be missing these. xx, S

Jack's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed against the sofa.

He'd forgotten all about the time he'd superglued his face to Steven's ass.

5.

He wasn't depressed as such; he was Jack Bourdain, he couldn't be depressed, but he was, sort of. His girlfriend had kicked him out; his boss was a mafia don; his boss' daughter was squeezing his nuts –- not in the good way –- and he'd given up drinking. Plus, the sofa was too fucking short for his legs -- overall, being Jack Bourdain kind of sucked today. Or at least it did until Jack's entire world went off kilter, and he found himself stomach down on the floor, with an ox on his back.

The floor was dusty. The new kid would have to clean up or something. "Steven, this isn't prison, you are not fucking me on this concrete floor."

"Aw, how'd you know it was me then?"

"The moose on my back was a big hint."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Are you saying you're worried about your weight? Jesus, when did you become a woman? Let me up so I can look at you and see what kind of tits you got out the deal."

Jack's head rang when Steven smacked the back of his skull. "Fuck you, funny man."

"Only if you let me up."

Interestingly enough, Steven moved, and Jack rolled over.

He blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, and then stared some more. "Oh my god, you do have tits! You've got to let me feel you up now."

Steven rolled his eyes. "Cornish Game hens," he said reaching under the hem of his jumper and pulling out a frozen bird.

Jack sighed. "Damn."

-end-

Current Mood: delirious
Current Music: Chuck Berry 'You Never Can Tell'