[By his room, Tom can only imagine. Which prompts him to consider putting things back to normal a little bit. Kick his dirty pants under the bed. As a reaction to what happened over Halloween Tom has pulled up his carpet and rolled it against the wall. He bled all over it and it was pretty ruined, but Wonderland probably could have fixed that. Tom really just wanted to get at the floorboards. Hes taken this Devil's Trap thing pretty seriously (and really, can you blame him?) He never wants to be in the same position he was a few weeks ago ever again. Ever. And so hes gotten down to the bones and taken to carving a giant trap directly into the floor. It's mostly done, but he's injured and these things take time. Especially if you're being as obsessive about perfection as he.]
[See, Blake can appreciate some obsessions. He's particularly neat about his life and the world around him. Anything within his control is placed in line and that's just the way of John Blake. So, when he knocks on Tom's door and lets himself in, arms full of food containers, he's only a bit surprised.
The half-finished Devil's Trap is what catches his attention, but he refrains from joking that he'd come to the wrong room.]
Hey, hey, how 'bout a hand before I go droppin' our food all over your nicely carved floor?
[It wouldn't be an inappropriate observation all things considered.
Tom's attention snaps to the door the second it opens and he jumps up to help.]
Hey [He takes some of the load from Blake's arms and nods at a small dining table tucked in the corner.]
Smells good, what's cookin'?
[His room is surprisingly big. Enough for two people. Which makes sense seeing as Jo has practically moved in. Tonight, though, they're on their own. Men left to their own devices. Danger.]
[Not just pork chops, but the kind that come with the mustard sauce and are perfectly broiled to perfection. Along with that, Blake's brought some freshly cooked green beans and some parsley potatoes.
He unloads a few of the containers on Tom and then procures the table to set it all out.]
[Tom pulls plates and the required cutlery from the closet, placing it on the table before doubling back for something to drink. Magic closets. Fuck yes.]
No, she's, uh. [He fishes around and pulls back a case of beer. Something in green he's not familiar with but he sometimes leaves the brand up to the closet. It usually results in some random import he might of seen once in a grocery store but never actually bought. A little gamble. Tonight's beer is Tuborg, a pale Danish lager. Light, crisp and cold. Perfect.
Tom picks it up and comes back to the table, setting the case to the side and breaking it open before producing a bottle opener.
As for John's question Tom can only give a vague gesture before cracking open the bottles and placing them on the table.]
[John wastes no time in serving out generous portions, his goal to get them eating up all the leftovers. To be fair, he could throw it out and no one would starve for it, but Blake's never been one to waste (plus, it was a new recipe and he'd thought it'd turned out pretty well, all things considered).]
Yeah, totally okay. [He's not sure why it wouldn't be, but maybe it had to do with that whole fiasco not all that long ago.] Sounds like a good time.
[As everything's dished onto the plate, he takes up one of the beers and takes a seat at the table, casual as he may.]
[Tom considers the question for a moment and digs in, giving Blake the universal This is damn good nod and grunt. Ugh, he's hungry. Tom even takes his arm out of his sling so he can use his knife better. Get. This. Food. Into. His. Mouth.
They should hang out more often. Tom can't cook for shit and room service? Blake is welcome any time.]
Not on this end. Calm before the storm, I think.
[Come to think of it, this is really the first time they've hung out. Any other time hes seen John it was in passing or during an event while everyone is concerned with safety. Or. You know. Blake saving his ass from Dean.]
{Well, to be fair, saving his ass from Dean and room service are both things Blake is happy to provide. Oddly enough, feeding people is probably the most outward sign of affection he has, so if you're getting a care package, the odds are pretty favorable that he's got your back.
He waits to chew his food before replying, waving his fork around like it's some kind of baton directing a symphony.]
Everythin' but the beer. Had rolls, too, but somehow managed to burn them. Figure that one out.
[He shrugs and goes back to eating. In the meantime, his attention focuses on Tom. Now, with his nearly daily interaction with Dean's Mirror, there are far too many of this face to keep straight. Thankfully, they're all pretty distinctive.]
You like the green beans? Put a little mustard powder on 'em. Think it sorta ties everythin' together.
[He shrugs, merrily munching on a bite of food. When his mouth's clear again, he sips at his beer and then answers.]
Don't feel bad, most people don't. Never quite got why. Somethin' 'bout my look, maybe. Or my upbringin'. Nice to still be able to surprise people, though.
Never got the chance to learn. My dad and I lived on tv dinners.
[Tv dinners, school lunches, a girlfriend with a functional family followed by state funded meal plans. He'd never needed to. A little here and there when he's been on his own but most of the places he'd stayed were either by the kindness of strangers or were lucky to have a microwave.]
Jo is tryin' to teach me but I think I cause more harm than good.
[There's something endearing about trying to imagine Tom bustling around Jo, undoing more than he's doing. It's an odd picture, but an endearing one, and he imagines that Tom and Jo appreciate every moment of it now that they're freely together.]
Just gotta be bold. Even screwin' up the pie's gonna make her smile if you're smart 'bout it. [He grins a little.] Think you are, too. But if you're lookin' for advice, try practicin' on the side so you can impress her later.
Like Scotty on Star Trek, y'know? Say it's gonna take five hours, so you're a miracle worker when you're gettin' in done in two.
Ah, all this stuff? [Blake chuckles at that and shakes his head.]
Dunno 'bout all I know — might be steerin' you wrong. Had my share of girlfriends, though. Boyfriends, too. Trust me, progress I've made ain't comin' from that.
[Dating is a miserable thing and you can't convince him otherwise.]
Blake's instantly reminded of the conversation he had with Dean about his first kiss. That questioning look is oddly familiar, but it doesn't fade so quickly from Tom's face (which is saying just as much as it isn't, if we're being honest).
He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head a bit, something of a semi-amused expression on his face.]
Guessin' that comes as a surprise. [Why is everyone always so shocked?] Ya gonna be okay there, Tom?
[NO. NO HE IS NOT OKAY. WOW this is an incredibly personal admission from Blake but Tom isn't in the frame of mind to admire it, too busy shaking the ringing out of his ears.]
Yeah, I uh. I didn't.
[Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh a buhhhhhhhhhhhhhh duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh--
He scratches the spot behind his left ear.]
Really. Didn't see that coming.
[But the cooking, maybe that was a sign?]
Aren't you supposed to have your ear pierced or something?
Blake reaches up and touches his ear lobe. He's actually had both ears pierced, as well as his tongue. How scandalous.
He's not quite perturbed yet. Getting there, though.]
Ah, well, when I was fillin' out that "I'm Gay" paperwork, must've forgot the check the box for the earring or somethin'.
[Have a look, bro.]
That's not a serious question you're askin', is it? 'Cause I can just as easily start askin' if you're s'posed to be shoeless an' marryin' your cousin. But it'd be a bit too... close-minded. [You Appalachian American, you.]
[Yes. Yes he is very serious. And the fact that he is serious is making him uncomfortable, which is turn is making him more defensive because now he feels stupid for being serious.
And so he elects to stay quiet and remain very still, eyes locked on Blake.]
Wow, you're not. Kinda can't believe that, not after all the— [He gives a wave of his hand, just a general gesture, and considers asking if that's too flamboyant for Tom. He manages to refrain, but only just.]
I'm just— What're you expectin' here, man? That change somethin' for you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm the same guy I was a minute ago, but suddenly you're lookin' like a new man.
[Tom slowly lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding and lets the wind out of his sails, dragging his good hand across his face and then pinching the bridge of his nose.]
No. Sorry. I just.
[He drops his hand back down to the table and idly scratches at it with his pointer finger. This is weird and new for him. Weird and new and he doesn't know what to do or how to react and here he is sitting like an idiot with his mouth open.
Somewhere in the back oh his head he recalls a hazy encounter in Manhattan in the early 2000's. Down on his luck and alone, he'd made friends with a nice enough guy at a bar who agreed to letting him crash at his for the night. He didn't realize then he'd accepted a proposition but things had gotten a little too friendly at the guy's place and Tom had bolted after it got weird and then aggressive. His one and only real experience left a bad taste in his mouth. His naivety and ignorance compounding stereotypes he'd never really thought to challenge. Huh. He'd completely forgotten about that.
It's not like he's a banner waving God Hates Fags protester, he just never knew anyone on the other side of the fence, so to speak. Growing up, gay was just a word the guys on his football team threw around in the locker room to intimidate and humiliate each other. Gay didn't mean a person, to him. Gay was a bad label that meant you were something less than you should be. Simply because that was how his town thought. There was no further explanation, it was simply that. Not even linked to love or human connection. They were too small, too set in archaic bible beating to think about the evolving modern world. Harmony wasn't part of the modern world - something Tom found out very quickly upon leaving, and the learning curve had been huge Especially as he'd fled to New York City first. Talk about culture shock.]
Uhh. Never known anyone..like that..before.
Why would you do that, why would you choose to be that?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Text;
Sure. Let's do dinner.
Text;
Action;
Action;
The half-finished Devil's Trap is what catches his attention, but he refrains from joking that he'd come to the wrong room.]
Hey, hey, how 'bout a hand before I go droppin' our food all over your nicely carved floor?
Action;
Tom's attention snaps to the door the second it opens and he jumps up to help.]
Hey [He takes some of the load from Blake's arms and nods at a small dining table tucked in the corner.]
Smells good, what's cookin'?
[His room is surprisingly big. Enough for two people. Which makes sense seeing as Jo has practically moved in. Tonight, though, they're on their own. Men left to their own devices. Danger.]
Action;
[Not just pork chops, but the kind that come with the mustard sauce and are perfectly broiled to perfection. Along with that, Blake's brought some freshly cooked green beans and some parsley potatoes.
He unloads a few of the containers on Tom and then procures the table to set it all out.]
Jo's not havin' any? Brought enough for her, too.
Action;
No, she's, uh. [He fishes around and pulls back a case of beer. Something in green he's not familiar with but he sometimes leaves the brand up to the closet. It usually results in some random import he might of seen once in a grocery store but never actually bought. A little gamble. Tonight's beer is Tuborg, a pale Danish lager. Light, crisp and cold. Perfect.
Tom picks it up and comes back to the table, setting the case to the side and breaking it open before producing a bottle opener.
As for John's question Tom can only give a vague gesture before cracking open the bottles and placing them on the table.]
I think she's seeing her mom tonight.
[He thinks. He doesn't know.]
Guess it's just us if that's ok?
Action;
Yeah, totally okay. [He's not sure why it wouldn't be, but maybe it had to do with that whole fiasco not all that long ago.] Sounds like a good time.
[As everything's dished onto the plate, he takes up one of the beers and takes a seat at the table, casual as he may.]
Any news?
Action;
They should hang out more often. Tom can't cook for shit and room service? Blake is welcome any time.]
Not on this end. Calm before the storm, I think.
[Come to think of it, this is really the first time they've hung out. Any other time hes seen John it was in passing or during an event while everyone is concerned with safety. Or. You know. Blake saving his ass from Dean.]
D'you make this?
Action;
He waits to chew his food before replying, waving his fork around like it's some kind of baton directing a symphony.]
Everythin' but the beer. Had rolls, too, but somehow managed to burn them. Figure that one out.
[He shrugs and goes back to eating. In the meantime, his attention focuses on Tom. Now, with his nearly daily interaction with Dean's Mirror, there are far too many of this face to keep straight. Thankfully, they're all pretty distinctive.]
You like the green beans? Put a little mustard powder on 'em. Think it sorta ties everythin' together.
Action;
I didn't take you for the cookin' type, officer.
[Tom's idea of city cops is Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. Shitty apartment, instant coffee, and a fridge full of microwave dinners.]
Action;
Don't feel bad, most people don't. Never quite got why. Somethin' 'bout my look, maybe. Or my upbringin'. Nice to still be able to surprise people, though.
You do much cookin'?
Action;
[Must be nice to be handy in the kitchen.
Tom takes another bite and shakes his head no.]
Never got the chance to learn. My dad and I lived on tv dinners.
[Tv dinners, school lunches, a girlfriend with a functional family followed by state funded meal plans. He'd never needed to. A little here and there when he's been on his own but most of the places he'd stayed were either by the kindness of strangers or were lucky to have a microwave.]
Jo is tryin' to teach me but I think I cause more harm than good.
Action;
Just gotta be bold. Even screwin' up the pie's gonna make her smile if you're smart 'bout it. [He grins a little.] Think you are, too. But if you're lookin' for advice, try practicin' on the side so you can impress her later.
Like Scotty on Star Trek, y'know? Say it's gonna take five hours, so you're a miracle worker when you're gettin' in done in two.
Action;
How is it you know all this stuff?
Had a lot of girlfriends?
Action;
Dunno 'bout all I know — might be steerin' you wrong. Had my share of girlfriends, though. Boyfriends, too. Trust me, progress I've made ain't comin' from that.
[Dating is a miserable thing and you can't convince him otherwise.]
Action;
Did he- What? Come again?
He puts the fork down and draws his brow, not exactly sure if what he heard was right and, if it was, how to deal with that.]
Boyfriends?
Action;
Blake's instantly reminded of the conversation he had with Dean about his first kiss. That questioning look is oddly familiar, but it doesn't fade so quickly from Tom's face (which is saying just as much as it isn't, if we're being honest).
He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head a bit, something of a semi-amused expression on his face.]
Guessin' that comes as a surprise. [Why is everyone always so shocked?] Ya gonna be okay there, Tom?
Action;
Yeah, I uh. I didn't.
[Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh a buhhhhhhhhhhhhhh duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh--
He scratches the spot behind his left ear.]
Really. Didn't see that coming.
[But the cooking, maybe that was a sign?]
Aren't you supposed to have your ear pierced or something?
Action;
Oh. It's going to be like that, is it?
Blake reaches up and touches his ear lobe. He's actually had both ears pierced, as well as his tongue. How scandalous.
He's not quite perturbed yet. Getting there, though.]
Ah, well, when I was fillin' out that "I'm Gay" paperwork, must've forgot the check the box for the earring or somethin'.
[Have a look, bro.]
That's not a serious question you're askin', is it? 'Cause I can just as easily start askin' if you're s'posed to be shoeless an' marryin' your cousin. But it'd be a bit too... close-minded. [You Appalachian American, you.]
Hope you don't ask anyone else that. [Huff huff.]
Action; sure got accidental homophobia up in hurr
Well how the fuck am I supposed to know, huh? Isn't that like your warning symbol or whatever?
Action; sure did!
Tom, you can't be serious? Come on, you're just— [He can't be serious. No way.] You're just jokin' here, right? 'Cause, if not...
[Just say you're joking, Tom. Otherwise it's open lecture time.]
Re: Action; sure did!
[Yes. Yes he is very serious. And the fact that he is serious is making him uncomfortable, which is turn is making him more defensive because now he feels stupid for being serious.
And so he elects to stay quiet and remain very still, eyes locked on Blake.]
Action;
I'm just— What're you expectin' here, man? That change somethin' for you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm the same guy I was a minute ago, but suddenly you're lookin' like a new man.
Action;
No. Sorry. I just.
[He drops his hand back down to the table and idly scratches at it with his pointer finger. This is weird and new for him. Weird and new and he doesn't know what to do or how to react and here he is sitting like an idiot with his mouth open.
Somewhere in the back oh his head he recalls a hazy encounter in Manhattan in the early 2000's. Down on his luck and alone, he'd made friends with a nice enough guy at a bar who agreed to letting him crash at his for the night. He didn't realize then he'd accepted a proposition but things had gotten a little too friendly at the guy's place and Tom had bolted after it got weird and then aggressive. His one and only real experience left a bad taste in his mouth. His naivety and ignorance compounding stereotypes he'd never really thought to challenge. Huh. He'd completely forgotten about that.
It's not like he's a banner waving God Hates Fags protester, he just never knew anyone on the other side of the fence, so to speak. Growing up, gay was just a word the guys on his football team threw around in the locker room to intimidate and humiliate each other. Gay didn't mean a person, to him. Gay was a bad label that meant you were something less than you should be. Simply because that was how his town thought. There was no further explanation, it was simply that. Not even linked to love or human connection. They were too small, too set in archaic bible beating to think about the evolving modern world. Harmony wasn't part of the modern world - something Tom found out very quickly upon leaving, and the learning curve had been huge Especially as he'd fled to New York City first. Talk about culture shock.]
Uhh. Never known anyone..like that..before.
Why would you do that, why would you choose to be that?
Action;
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