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party poison

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Once they're in the apartment, Jack drops his bag. He finds himself skittish, suddenly, which is ridiculous, but they've admitted to a lot, this morning, and it's taking a whole to settle. He turns to face Poison, starting to tug his shirt over his head.

"I need to shower."

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"Pasta?" says Jack, glancing over his shoulder. "You've got, like, cheese and spinach and peas? That might be good?"

"Sounds awesome. We probably have jar sauce, too. Or maybe enough stuff to make it from scratch if you're feeling fancy. Or you could let me do that part."

"You want to help?" asks Jack, grabbing a few things out of the fridge and then knocking it shut with his hip. "Or you just want to sit here and drink a beer and look pretty?"

"I mean, I'm really good at standing here and looking pretty," he quips. "But I'll help - which part do you want me to help with?"

"You think you can throw together sauce?" asks Jack. "Or, shit. That's pretty much the whole dinner." He laughs. "You want to handle the pasta and the salad?"

"I can totally do the sauce," he said. "You do pasta and salad and then help with sauce. Because I'm badass like that and my mom taught me to cook." Poison smiled and bumped against Jack's hip as he started getting what he needed out of cabinets.

"Oh, fuck, that's right," says Jack, laughing as Poison started bustling around the kitchen and he went back to the fridge to grab salad things. "You've got Italian in you, right?"

"Little bit!" he says triumphantly. "Not like Ghoul, but enough that Mom covered some of the basics, y'know? How to tell when pasta's done, how to make a decent red sauce."

He once he has what he needs lined up on the counter, he gets to work. "Do you want anything more in it? I mean other than like tomatoes and seasoning. I've got mushrooms and stuff, uh... peas, like you said. Other veggies."

"Whatever you want," says Jack, rummaging around in the drawer for the knife he's looking for - there's one that he tends to prefer when he's cooking at Poison's. "I trust you."

Even now, he's surprised by how true that is.

Poison smiles and nudges against Jack. "I'll try not to let you down," he promises.

He sort of zones out - or zooms in? - on what he's doing after that, getting lost in the familiar but distant rhythm of making the sauce. After he gets it all together, he just has to let it cook a little while.

"Should we start the pasta? It should be done by the time that is."

"I'm totally letting you handle it," says Jack, impressed by the quiet proficiency that Poison works with, something that he's only seen before when Poison's drawing. "You've got it in hand."

Poison rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He nudges Jack again. "Start the pasta and make the salad, jerk," he says fondly. "I'll keep stirring this."

"Sir, yes, Sir," says Jack, tipping a lazy salute and then getting the pasta on before he goes back to fixing salad. "Did Girl say where she was?"

"Nope, and I'm trying really hard not to be nosy. And it's killing me." He pouts a little and picks his phone up from the counter. No texts, but he assumes that's a good sign.

Jack raises an eyebrow at that. He's not as much of a gossip as Poison, especially where Dee is concerned, but that's definitely interesting.

"Is there, like, a shortlist?"

"I mean, I know she has a few friends, but I haven't heard about most of them. She's just mentioned them." He does kind of wish she'd talk to him just a tiny bit more about the people in her life, but he's trying to be patient.

"She's being a teenager. You're her dad. She's allowed to not tell you stuff, babe." Jack nudges him with his hip. "I don't think my dad could have named three of my friends, back in San Francisco. He did take a real interest in Bex, though. Think he was probably starting to worry I was gay." He huffs a laugh through his nose. Look how that turned out.

"I know, and I want her to have like... her own life, her own stuff. I just want to still be a little part of it," he says a bit shyly. Then he groans. "Shit, my mom did that to me." He leans on Jack. "I'm my mom," he whines.

Based on what Jack knows about Poison's mom, that thought strikes him as hilarious and he snorts out a laugh, wrapping his arm around Poison for a moment to give him a quick squeeze.

"When are you going to get your nails done?" Poison wears nail polish, sometimes, but it's hard to imagine him in acrylics.

Poison pouts against Jack's chest. "I'd break them," he sulks. Then he tips his head up so he can get a kiss. "I'm not being an asshole, am I? Being-- wanting to know about her life?" He looks Very Concerned about it.

"You're not being an asshole," says Jack, wrapping his arms around him. "You love her and you lost her for such a long time. Wanting to j is about her makes sense to me, man."

"Just trying to be careful about it. Because I really want her to have her own life - one with friends in it and all that." He presses a kiss to Jack's chest before drawing back. "How's the pasta doing?"

"You tell me," he says, eyebrows raised. "The Italian mom think is pretty hot, by the way. Which...is maybe weird, but I don't even care."

Poison giggles. "If you ever call me Mami I'm gonna hit you so hard in a non-sexual way." He grabbed a slotted spoon so he could get some of the pasta out to try it.

"Hot! Hot hot hot," he fussed around the piece in his mouth. But he eventually managed to chew it. "Uuuhm I think that's about done? It feels done."

"What about daddy?" teases Jack, grabbing a strainer and the pan and dealing with them pretty expertly as he drains the pasta over the sink.