Looking for Completion - The Story

Appetites

Patrick watched Kevin warily, trying to find something encouraging in the growing piles of food he was chopping and cutting on the kitchen counter. Did salad really count as a meal? Sure, they couldn't eat out all the time and they were both sick to death of pizza, but...salad? Did Kevin realize that salad was only ever an appetizer or a side dish? Was this an English thing? Even Agustin, the putative vegetarian of the bunch, drew a line at just having raw leaves for an entire meal. Sure, he seemed to be adding other things like tomatoes and onions and cucumbers...but it looked really awful.

Patrick sighed. Kevin looked up at him sharply and narrowed his eyes. Patrick sighed again. And maybe batted his eyelashes? Kevin went back to chopping. This was going to be the world's most precisely cut salad. Patrick thought back fondly to the day Kevin cooked him that outrageous yet delicious breakfast of sausages, fried tomatoes, eggs...

It was his own fault though. He had made some comment that they really should eventually use the kitchen for something other than fucking against the counter and getting drinks from the fridge, and Kevin had decided that tonight, on this second evening in their new home, he was going to prepare a meal for his beloved. And since all he seemed to know how to prepare were greasy breakfast foods or meticulously designed salads, Patrick was shit out of luck. 

Maybe just using the kitchen for sex and drinks wasn't such a bad idea. They'd had some really good sex in kitchens. Patrick smiled as he remembered Kevin pushing him onto the little kitchen table in his old apartment and fucking his brains out. Good times. That had been really hot. A little rough, Kevin barely taking the time to prepare him before he pushed in, so hard, so deep...a little tender, Kevin still making sure he wasn't hurting his injured arm, even as he held Patrick down and fucked him relentlessly... a little scary, as he had felt the table wobble and rock under Kevin's pounding...and very very hot. Patrick had come so hard he had almost passed out and only Kevin's collapsed weight on top of him kept him from just staying there, bent over the table, and falling asleep.

They would need a sturdier table for this apartment. But still narrow enough so that he could grip both it's sides. Maybe one that was small enough to get comfortably fucked against but that could also expand to accommodate dinner guests? 

Ugh. Patrick shuddered. Furniture shopping was going to be a challenge. They had VERY different tastes, if all those posters were anything to go by. He had to get Kevin to take that poster down somehow, and definitely NOT put any of those other weird soccer ones up. Though now that damn Field of Dreams piece of crap was more than just a poster. Apparently it was a 'symbol' and, worse, it was something Kevin was finding amusing teasing Patrick about. He kept suggesting that they watch the movie together, as if somehow, gaining an appreciation for an 80s piece of maudlin crap was going to make him want a movie poster on his wall. There were going to be some real battles ahead, but Patrick had already decided in his head that if he lost any of those decorating battles, he was going to use the excuse of Kevin being British to all his friends. The British weren't really known for their style, right? Well, not since the 60s anyway. Bad food, bad teeth, rain and sarcasm. 

And talking of bad food...Patrick watched the preparation of the salad glumly.

'Oy.' Kevin threw a cherry tomato at the pouting Patrick.

'What?' Patrick protested, scrambling to catch the tomato before it fell to the floor, shocked out of his little reverie.

'Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?'

Patrick stared at Kevin thoughtfully, and then smiled brightly.

'Sure?'

Kevin rolled his eyes, and then continued talking about something which Patrick was apparently supposed to have been listening to for the past fifteen minutes, while he sat at the counter watching Kevin prepare their 'meal'.