"Of course you can." Guy smiles at him from across the table before eagerly picking up his spoon. "You put it all together." He dips it in the bowl, tasting it.
Guy dips his spoon in eagerly to eat away at the course. After all, if Julian knew him well enough for the appetiser, he can hardly contain his curiosity toward what the other courses will be.
"How did I get so lucky?"
It's asked lightheartedly, and yet there is a bit of truth and romantic whim in the question.
"You finally said something. Luck had nothing to do with it." The soup is vanishing fairly quickly. After so much planning and preparing, Julian is just now realizing how little he ate during the day, and the soup and bread are waking up his appetite.
Guy is a lucky man in many ways, for all that he's gotten away with. For once, here, in Luceti, Julian is something he's lucky for having gotten at all. He doesn't know how many times he can tell Julian this.
He grins through bites, happy to see Julian with both an appetite and enjoying himself as well.
"So am I!" Julian chews at his bread, hoping he didn't turn the oven on too hot to keep the next course warm. Maybe the sooner Guy finishes his soup, the better.
Once the soup is finished, Guy lets his spoon fall into the empty bowl with a slight clatter. His contentment is apparent from the way he slips a bit in his chair, body lax and leaned back.
"Liquid poetry."
He grins before dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "Which brings me to ask, have you gotten the chance to write at all?"
"A little." Julian rises to gather the dishes. "Nothing very good yet, but I'm just warming up. God, though, what I wouldn't give for a kitchen that's actually in the flat. I'll be back in a moment with the rest."
He carries the dishes out the door. By the time he returns from the kitchen down the hall, he's balancing two warm plates like a waiter. The plate he sets down in front of Guy contains the main course--fillet mignon on a bed of asparagus, topped with crab meat.
"I do have a wine to go with this. Would you like a glass?"
Guy's mouth waters. Oh, how Julian still knows him.
"Please. Would you like me to pour it?" While he is enjoying himself, Guy isn't used to being doted on by Julian Bell. When he'd often contemplated how being the poet's beau would play out, the visualisations were all of Guy, doling out all the romantic gestures he'd never been able to do before. This is as much an unexpected pleasure as it is an odd state of not knowing entirely what to do.
Jack Hewitt, after all, had waited on him nearly hand and foot, but there had been so little love between the both of them. Guy had always been looking for someone to ease the pain of losing Julian all those sordid and solitary years.
It isn't very often Guy is taken aback for words. Nearly always, it is a sign of frightening things, but for once in his life, Guy is content to not garble out strings of words for the sake of it.
"I'll get it." He wants Guy to know, for sure, that Julian is serious about this. Willing to work for it. That Julian...loves him? Maybe. Wants desperately to love him, and knows he one day will? Definitely. He's not going to content himself with passive acceptance of these intense feelings Guy has kept to himself as he romanticizes the man he never pursued. This is a very concrete, very tangible way to present himself and his sincerity in this, and taking the initiative unexpectedly might throw Guy for a loop, jar him from his fantasy so he knows how real this is. Julian can woo, too. He can even seduce.
Julian pours the wine--a ruby-red sangiovese, dry and not too sweet. He has a bottle of rich, sweet port to go with dessert later, kept in hiding for the moment.
"There. Hope you like it." He sits, waiting for Guy to take the first bite with a look of vicarious anticipation.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
...During the KISS. What the heck?
...is it bad I didn't notice?
Oh, that is just divine.
"You know me well, Julian."
No. >.>
no subject
Guy dips his spoon in eagerly to eat away at the course. After all, if Julian knew him well enough for the appetiser, he can hardly contain his curiosity toward what the other courses will be.
"How did I get so lucky?"
It's asked lightheartedly, and yet there is a bit of truth and romantic whim in the question.
no subject
no subject
Guy is a lucky man in many ways, for all that he's gotten away with. For once, here, in Luceti, Julian is something he's lucky for having gotten at all. He doesn't know how many times he can tell Julian this.
He grins through bites, happy to see Julian with both an appetite and enjoying himself as well.
"I'm glad we're making up the occasion."
no subject
no subject
"Liquid poetry."
He grins before dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "Which brings me to ask, have you gotten the chance to write at all?"
no subject
He carries the dishes out the door. By the time he returns from the kitchen down the hall, he's balancing two warm plates like a waiter. The plate he sets down in front of Guy contains the main course--fillet mignon on a bed of asparagus, topped with crab meat.
"I do have a wine to go with this. Would you like a glass?"
no subject
"Please. Would you like me to pour it?" While he is enjoying himself, Guy isn't used to being doted on by Julian Bell. When he'd often contemplated how being the poet's beau would play out, the visualisations were all of Guy, doling out all the romantic gestures he'd never been able to do before. This is as much an unexpected pleasure as it is an odd state of not knowing entirely what to do.
Jack Hewitt, after all, had waited on him nearly hand and foot, but there had been so little love between the both of them. Guy had always been looking for someone to ease the pain of losing Julian all those sordid and solitary years.
It isn't very often Guy is taken aback for words. Nearly always, it is a sign of frightening things, but for once in his life, Guy is content to not garble out strings of words for the sake of it.
no subject
Julian pours the wine--a ruby-red sangiovese, dry and not too sweet. He has a bottle of rich, sweet port to go with dessert later, kept in hiding for the moment.
"There. Hope you like it." He sits, waiting for Guy to take the first bite with a look of vicarious anticipation.