Looking For A Reason

Chapter 9

'This is good.' Kevin nodded appreciatively around his last mouthful of noodles.

'You like it? I think it's good, right? It's Owen's favorite dish and Bethany gave me the recipe. Though she's a god-damned liar because this shit took about two hours just to chop all the fricking vegetables, and marinade the chicken and...'

'Don't spoil it, Patrick. It's just a bowl of noodles.' Kevin rolled his eyes.

'To you maybe. To me it represents the blood, sweat and tears of an afternoon I'll never get back again.'

'Drama queen.' 

Patrick smiled. 

'I'm going to make it with shrimp for you, next time.'

'Patrick, I've told you...'

'You can't NOT like shellfish, Kevin. It's just...inconceivable.' Patrick sighed dramatically.

'You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.'

'Nerd. And your accent is appalling by the way.'

'I hate shrimp. Don't make it with shrimp.' Kevin shuddered. 

'Tofu?'

'Oh god. I suppose if you need to make it with something other than chicken then I can handle tofu. But is that even a food?'

'You have very strange food peculiarities.'

Kevin snorted. This from an American that was sickened by the thought of peanut butter. Positively unpatriotic. He was about to make a scathing pithy comment to that effect when Patrick got up from his tiny table in his tiny kitchen and  whisked their bowls away, returning within seconds to sit back down and grab Kevin's hand.

'What...'

'I've got a special desert, but you can't have it till later.' Patrick said mysteriously, lacing their fingers together and rubbing Kevin's knuckles with his thumb. Kevin stared at their joined hands. He knew he should just casually pull away and drop his hand in his lap, or else ask Patrick outright what the fuck he thought he was doing because non-sexual touching was not part of the deal. But...instead he decided to just enjoy it. Because, fuck it, it felt good. Patrick was suspiciously quiet though. And that worried Kevin more than the hand holding. And wait...what about that casual reference to making Kevin food in the future. He was fucking sneaky, trying to pull that shit past Kevin and expecting him not to notice. Which to be fair, he hadn't at first. Seduced by a bowl of steaming noodles that Patrick had spent hours preparing. 

'What are you up to?' Kevin asked, looking up at Patrick.

'I've made a desert. It's your favorite.' Patrick shrugged innocently.

'Why can't I have it till later?'

'Because I want you to stay.'

Well. Ok then. That was easy.

'Patrick, I have an early meeting....'

'It's Friday night Kevin. You're mixing up your days.' Patrick smiled.

'With a new trainer. At my gym.' Kevin recovered quickly. He pulled his hand away and picked up his glass of water.

Patrick didn't say anything. He just sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows.

'Is that true?'

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Kevin had scrupulously avoided lying in any way to Patrick. Which had meant that his team at work often bitched and complained about the stupidly early meetings he scheduled on the mornings after his nights with Patrick. And also meant that he'd spent some very boring evenings attending work functions and team building events he would usually excuse himself from. But it was all worth it to be able to look Patrick squarely in the eye and be able to say to him that not once, never once since he'd left Jon over two years ago, had Kevin lied to him. About anything.