outintheopen | IC Inbox

Dinner sounds great. Your choice.

So, one of everything? Got it.

Ha, well, I certainly wouldn't say no.

Just, if I knock on the door twice, open it fast because I'm about to drop something.

Got it. I'll be listening for the door.

How long do you think you'll be?

[ Maybe he'll have some time to run and get a bottle of wine before Kip gets back. ]

Maybe twenty minutes? Give or take a few.

I'm kinda walking on sunshine right now, but I could slow it down.

[ That should be plenty of time to grab something and get back before Kip does. Especially if he leaves now. ]

Sounds good. You take whatever time you need. I'll see you soon.

Take his time he does, it takes him exactly twenty-five minutes to get home because he has two large bags with him and another container balancing precariously on his palm. He also has a carefully packed bag between his teeth that holds two small drinks that look almost too pretty to drink.

The smell of the food will probably hit him even before Kip knocks on the door. It's almost comical how he grins at him when he opens the door even despite the clenched teeth, holding up his arms to show off the bags. Something definitely smells vaguely like barbecue but, if his nose is perceptive enough, there's also a hint of something sweet. A fresh cake of some sort, maybe.

He looks like a kid in a candy store, practically breathless and beaming at him. His sense of accomplishment is through the roof right now.

"Hey," he tries to murmur out. At least that's what it sounds like he is trying to say.

It does give Scott time to run someplace nearby for a bottle of wine and return, and even a little extra to clean up before he hears the door. As he hurries to open it, the aroma of different foods mingling together has his stomach growling, but the sight he's greeted with when he does open it surprises him.

"Oh wow," he says, moving to take the bag between Kip's teeth and the container he's balancing in one hand. "You weren't kidding about getting a little of everything."

Kip shrugs before Scott grabs the bag, then takes a moment to shift his jaw to work out any lingering tension. Truthfully, he thought he was going to drop the contents in the lobby, he's surprised he was able to make it all the way up here. Minus a little melting, they're still as pristine as when he bought them.

"I only went to three different places, I just made sure to ask for the biggest sized meal they had," he muses, walking into the apartment to deposit the bags on the kitchen counter. "That's what celebrations are all about, right?" Before starting to fiddle with the bags, he turns, leans over and steals a quick kiss.

"Miss me?"

Scott chuckles as he follows Kip into the kitchen, setting the container and the drink bag on the empty counter space. When Kip turns to him he happily kisses him, grinning a little.

"Always."

Giving him another kiss, he then looks at all the bags. "So what'd you get?"

"Only the messiest food I could find, I hope you're ready to ruin that shirt," Kip nods in the direction of Scott's shirt, then goes about popping the lids on everything to reveal the food. Ribs, chicken, brisket, sausage ─ the staples, really, of any barbecue. They aren't quite swimming in sauce, but they're going to want to get a small army of napkins to combat the mess.

The cake turns out to be a jiggly cheesecake dusted in powdered sugar and dotted with freshly cut strawberries and blueberries. He couldn't not go for the one with blueberries, it is practically a tradition in this house now.

"So, how'd I do?" And the drinks? They turn out to be small cups of affogato, there is a reason they look a little melted. It's the ice cream.

Peering over Kip, he took in the delicious aroma of barbecue meats, though he was impressed by the amount that Kip had gotten. The cheesecake also looks really good, plus the blueberries were an especially nice touch.

"Oh wow, that all looks amazing."

Seeing the melting ice cream from the affogato, though, he grabs the two cups and holds one out to Kip.

"Looks like we should eat this first, so they don't completely melt."

"Before you ask, I didn't spend a lot of stardust. They needed help taking orders out and I offered to help," he says matter-of-factly, tipping his head in the direction of the barbecue. "They said if I was ever looking for another job, they would hire me. I think efficient was the word they used." He pretends to adjust a nonexistent tie in a dignified manner.

Kip takes the cup, murmurs a thanks and, before Scott can take a bite out of his, he is scooping up a handful of his own to offer it to him. Is it disgustingly domestic? Maybe, but he doesn't care. This is their kitchen and if he wants to spoon-feed his boyfriend some fucking ice cream, he will do it.

"I hear they taste better like this."

Scott chuckles a little, pressing a kiss to Kip's temple. "I'm not surprised. You're a very hard worker."

He's about to take a scoop from his own ice cream, but stops when Kip offers his instead. With a grin, he eats the spoonful, humming in appreciation.

"Mm, you know, I think you're right."

Then he takes a scoop from his and holds it out to Kip. "You want to try?"

"If they believed me before they put me to work, I might not have found the job I got." Small victories, at least for now. He may not share that opinion a month down the line when he's seen the horrors.

"It's a curse, always being right," he laughs, waving the spoon in the air.

"Why do I feel like you're going to move it at the last second?" Kip eyes him suspiciously, playfully so, and leans in to accept it. Even if he teases him, which he probably won't, he still goes for it. Do either of them need espresso in their life right now? Of course they do, they are soon to be overworked and unemployed, respectively.

"Well, it's their loss. And at least you have a backup plan in case this job doesn't work out."

He doesn't say anything, and simply keeps grinning as Kip leans in for the spoonful. He doesn't move it until after Kip takes the bite, pulling it away just so a bit of ice cream smears across his lips.

"You've got something on your lip," he says then, still grinning. "Here, let me help." Then he leans in to kiss Kip soundly, his tongue gently running across his lips.

"No jinxing me, I really want this one to work out. Do you know the guy works from 7am - 2am? My new boss, I mean. Isn't that insane?" Thankfully, he said Kip (likely) won't be working the same hours.

"I knew it," Kip calls out, about to accuse him, when he picks up on his intentions and seems to warm to the idea quite quickly. One of his arms winds itself around Scott's neck.

"I lied, this is the best way to eat it," he murmurs out, "did you get it all? I think I need a second opinion." Grinning, he lets the tip of his tongue catch not just a drop of the ice cream, but the taste of Scott that lingers on his lips.

"7 to 2? Every day?" Scott, who does not mind hard work and long hours, looked incredulous. "That's crazy! Does he ever sleep? What are your hours like?"

Scott chuckles as Kip wraps his arms around his neck, and sets his cup and spoon down to pull Kip closer by the waist.

"Mm, your right, I missed a spot," he agreed, then leans down and kisses him again.

"Every day, he's hoping to cut it down to 7 - 10 once I learn the ropes. He made it a point to remind me that he's more resilient than I am and doesn't need sleep," Kip somehow manages without rolling his eyes, but only just. "He said we wouldn't keep the same hours, just to expect a full schedule. If you get two winky face emojis from me, send help."

Are they even going to get to this food? Humming his approval, he turns and walks Scott backward until his back hits the fridge. As desirable as the food is right now, he's currently partaking in his favorite meal of the day. If he happens to try and sneak his fingertips up and underneath his shirt while hungrily mapping out his mouth, then his fingers must just have a mind of their own.

"Mm, I'll say," he breathes out, "happy to keep you honest, though."

Scott holds back a laugh. "Noted. But then what are your hours? If he wants to cut down to get out at 10, will you be working until 10? What time is he expecting you to start then?"

Scott hums contentedly in the kiss, his breath hitching a little when he feels the fridge at his back. Feeling the drag of Kip's fingers over his skin sends a shiver down his spine.

"Mm, the food is going to get cold," he says, not that he makes any move to push Kip away. "And the ice cream is going to melt."

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