Food for the Lovelorn
If it weren't for the running, he'd have gained at least ten pounds by now.
Blair shut the fridge, an oven-fried chicken leg in his hand. He bit into it and chewed happily even as he searched the cupboards for more to eat. Ah, peanut butter. He pulled the jar down, twisted off the blue lid, and dipped the leg into it. Hmmm, pretty good actually. He took the few necessary steps to the cupboard long known as "Jim's Goody Cupboard" and opened it. He scowled. He hated Bugles. Surely there was something....
Wait, what was that box in the back? A box of what? He fumbled with his left hand, his right still holding the peanut butter-dipped chicken leg. He finally got a hold of the damn thing and his expression brightened. Milky Way cookies! Way cool. He took the box down, opened it clumsily, and pulled out several of the wrapped gems. Now… did they have milk? Had he seen any in the fridge? Only one way to find out….
YES! Milk, cookies, chicken, peanut butter… but he needed… something that … crunched. Okay, the bag of cut celery. That would go well with the peanut butter. All right, he was set … well, after he grabbed the other chicken leg anyway.
Arms full off cookies, the peanut butter jar, celery and the milk carton, he made his slow and careful way to the table. He sat down, took another bite of the chicken, then gulped down some milk. He frowned. Not enough. He needed… pickles. He got up, took the bottle that was on the door of the fridge, and returned to his seat.
This was living.
Jim walked into the loft and stopped dead. "Chief?"
Peanut butter smeared over his lips and with a dill pickle in his mouth, Sandburg grinned and said, "Whamt?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
Blair waved the second chicken leg. "Eating, you schmuck. Since when do you have to ask the obvious? Even Simon would have known what I was doing."
Jim took off his jacket and dropped it on one of the hooks. He moved slowly, his mind racing. Something was very wrong with this picture. He walked over to the table and sat down. He looked at the array of food and almost winced. Pickles and peanut butter? Baked chicken and cookies? And *milk*? And celery?
"Okay, Chief, what's up?"
"What do you mean?" the foodie asked as he dipped a Milky Way cookie into the peanut butter and stuffed it into his mouth.
"You're eating like some kind of … well, you're eating like a pregnant woman. You're worrying me."
Blair took another gulp of milk straight out of the carton, wiped his mouth, and said, "Now Jim, you know I can't be pregnant, we're just good friends no matter *what* they say. And even if we weren't, we're both men so you could hardly get me pregnant." He swirled a celery stick in the peanut butter. "Besides," he added just before taking a bite, "I'd top in any relationship with you."
Feeling something strange in his stomach, Jim reached for a cookie, dipped it in the peanut butter, took a celery stick, broke it in half, added it to the cookie, and put the whole thing in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he said, "I don't think we could have a good relationship, Sandburg, if one of us was always the top. I believe in equality in the bedroom and would demand my rights to top at least half the time."
Blair watched Jim as he took the chicken leg out of Blair's hand, smeared it with peanut butter, then chomped down. He got up, went back to the fridge, took out the platter of chicken and brought it back. When he took his seat again, he said, "I see. So how do you feel about being the one who gets pregnant?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Jim said as he reached for a wing. "We're both men, as you so correctly pointed out. BUT, should medical advances allow for such a thing, yes, I'd be willing to be the mother." He looked over at Sandburg, gaze taking him in from top to bottom. "Besides, you're too small. Getting you pregnant would be unfair. You'd carry the weight horribly, while I, on the other hand, would look stunning pregnant."
Blair's eyes narrowed. "Are you proposing to me, Jim?"
"It's possible. If I am, will it stop this orgy of food?"
"I don't know, would sex go along with the proposal?"
Looking shocked, Jim said, "You have to ask?"
Looking smug, Blair stood up and started to put everything away. When he reached for the celery, Jim's hand clamped down on his. "Wait, I need one more for this chicken, pickle, celery, cookie, peanut butter sandwich."
Shaking his head, Blair said, "I'm getting you to the altar not one minute too soon, Jim."
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