It was like High Noon on the domestic front.
Seb leaned over the counter in the middle of the kitchen, one arm braced on the worktop, eyes dark with annoyance. There were various pans and utensils scattered on the surface around him, but no evidence of any cooking. He'd been called good-looking by plenty of people in the past, and amusing, and lively, too. Tonight, however, his face was twisted into a rather less than flattering scowl, and he was just plain riled. He didn't care who knew it, either--he'd always been an extroverted young man. His long dark hair flopped forward onto his forehead but he was too distracted to push it out of the way. He was itching for an argument, just waiting for someone to bring it on.
From over the other side of the counter, Jamie glared back. He was blond and pale in contrast, and his annoyance made his face color. Unlike Seb, he tended to be described as sensible and thoughtful--oh, and reasonably good-looking too, people would add as an afterthought. Right now though, his lips were pursed and his face flushed, and it took all his self-control to keep his voice calm. It wasn't his way to show his emotions so blatantly, but dammit, he was sorely tempted!
They made an attractive, though diverse, pair, but at this precise moment, both were wishing the other was in a separate, far-distant star system--and would have happily lit the blue touch paper under the rocket that took them there.
Despite their different temperaments, Jamie and Seb were well matched when it came to arguments. And they fought all the time, didn't they? They disagreed about movies, about clothes, and about cars. What one said, the other contradicted. Admittedly, sometimes they discussed football games quite civilly and laughed at jokes together, and they met every weekend for social events. Curiously, they were also known to call each other up on the phone almost daily and talk for an hour or more. But they still argued.
Jamie knew Seb had called him a workaholic geek in the past, but to be honest, he'd been known to call Seb a borderline drunk. He'd had his fair share of revenge in that regard. To him, Seb's social life was a maelstrom of parties and casual hook-ups with unsavory young men who favored multiple body piercing, or at the very least a lurid tattoo. In return, Seb often dismissed Jamie's social life as a wasteland consisting of no young men at all, and he regularly told people--with a smirk on his face--that Jamie's idea of a thrilling Saturday night was a packet of chocolate biscuits and a movie on Management Accounting.
Yes, there was plenty more to argue about there.
In the past, their friends had laughed off their habitual animosity, then attempted to mediate. Now they just went to find something more interesting to do in another apartment.
Which was exactly what had happened tonight.
The kitchen door was firmly closed behind the two young men, acting as a barrier between them and what was meant to have been the start of a pleasant Christmas dinner party with a group of close friends. But the rest of the apartment was deserted now, except for a relentless stream of Christmas carols coming from the music system in the lounge. Back in the kitchen, there was an alternative background of tension humming its own static tune.
Seb and Jamie continued to glare at one another. Neither looked remotely filled with the Christmas spirit.
"Come on, it must have been you," Seb snapped. "It's the sort of stupid thing you'd think of. It wouldn't be the first time you'd tried to convert me."
"No way," Jamie replied, spiritedly. "No sense, no feeling where you're concerned. And how come you're so quick to accuse other people? It's more like the kind of sick joke you enjoy so much."
"But I didn't buy it," they both said, almost simultaneously, then fell into confused silence.
"So ... what the hell am I meant to do with it?" Seb asked, belligerently. He lifted up the item in question, a brand new, open cookbook, stabbing it into the air like some kind of weapon. The cover was illustrated in vibrant greens and yellows. "I mean, it really is a sick joke!"
)
