HOWL 1.3

He still hasn’t decided if Adam’s dangerous.

Adam’s in the kitchen, which is just as big as the humongous bedroom, pulling out various food items from the cupboards and fridge, and setting them on the end of the bar closest to the stove. There’s already bread, ham, eggs, and a few different vegetables on the counter.

“Hey,” he says without looking towards Eric. “I’m thinking omlettes. I need to get rid of some of this stuff.”

Be bold, be assertive, Eric tells himself, but what comes out is, “That’s cool.”

Damn it. But there’s no reason to turn down free food. Not quite free, Eric amends himself. All it cost was his anal virginity.

“I don’t usually cook for my lays,” Adam tells him nonchalantly as he gets out a frying pan. “But I figure you’re worth a little effort.”

He’s not sure how to take that, so he says nothing.

Adam waves a hand at the bar, then at the dining table. “You can just sit wherever.”

Eric hovers indecisively for a few then wanders over to the bar. Sitting down with inner-rectal pain is an interesting experience, but he manages to find a position that isn’t too bad. He hopes Adam didn’t notice his squirming around, and by the way he’s moving confidently around his kitchen he thinks maybe he got away with it.

Pulling out a knife, Adam starts chopping up the vegetables and meats, separating them into neat little piles. He doesn’t ask Eric what he likes in his omlettes, just cracks some eggs and gets to it. Adam cooks entirely by eyeballing it, picking up pinches of this and dashes of that, and stirring it around until he’s satisfied.

“Smells good,” Adam grins.

“Yeah,” Eric agrees, awkward.

Adam keeps grinning at him for a minute, apparently doing nothing but enjoying the view, then turns back to his stove.

In that moment Eric realizes he has no idea what to expect from Adam. He was nonplussed at Eric’s admission of his sexuality, but hasn’t made a move on him since. Besides the whole cherry-popping thing Adam’s been nothing but a nice guy and gracious host. But will it last? After all, Eric doesn’t really know him, and he can’t quite forget the force behind those wild yellow eyes.

Nothing to it, but to do it, Eric thinks, but just as he works himself up to breaking the news a plate flops down in front of him.

“Dig in,” Adam says, passing him a fork.

He’ll eat the omlette, appease Adam’s ego proactively, and then ask him for a ride. Should be simple. Regan made it seem like random hook-ups weren’t hard to get away from, that was the whole point of them.

“Whatcha think?” Adam asks after he takes his first bite.

Eric says honestly, “It’s good.”

Eggs have never been one of his favorite food groups, but it’s a good omlette. It has the right mix of vegetables, meat, and long, sticky cheese.

“You’re not a bad cook,” he offers, trying to be polite.

“I live alone.” Adam shrugs. “Kind of a necessity. But thank you.”

“Sure,” Eric mumbles.

They eat in relative silence, the only noises natural ones of chewing and scraping silverware. But the round mass of egg and miscellany can’t last forever, and before Eric is really ready to deal with it he’s scraping his plate clean.

This time, though, he won’t let himself be dissuaded. Politeness can only account for so much before it’s just plain cowardice.

“So, I have a plan,” Eric says.

Adam looks up at him, quirks a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eric nods. “If I remember right you drove me from the bar, so how about we get finished with breakfast, hop in your truck, and you take me back into town so I get on my way.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Adam says, odd lilt to his voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

The first trickle of alarm inches around Eric’s insides, but he schools his face to passiveness. “What, you’re just gonna keep me here indefinitely?”

“Of course not.” Adam grins. “I’m sure I’ll get bored with you eventually.”

Subtly, Eric turns the knife he’s just been using on his breakfast, there’s still bits of egg on it. The blade now points away from himself, a better offensive posture.

“So that’s it?” Eric will only have a split second to reach across the bar, he has to time this exactly right. “You’re just going to hold me hostage here?”

Adam laughs. The deep, boisterous rumbling kind that he actually has to throw his head back to make. He rocks forward, one hand clutching at his mouth to hold his guffaws at bay.

“Keep you hostage, geez. I’m not kidnapping you,” he wheezes. “What do you think I am, some kind of psycho?”

Eric hasn’t decided just what he thinks, but he definitely hasn’t ruled that out. He decides that wouldn’t be to his advantage to voice, however, and just surveys Adam with cool eyes.

Getting up from the table, Adam heads across the room towards the windows. They’re the big wall-length kind just like the bedroom. Eric follows his every movement.

“When I said I couldn’t do that,” Adam says, “I meant it literally.”

He flicks a button on the wall and the curtains part slowly. A blinding glare slashes through the room as white fills the window from top to bottom. Eric winces against the brightness, but doesn’t close his eyes. He still hasn’t decided if Adam’s dangerous. Then he realizes what it is he’s seeing.

“We’re snowed in,” Adam says, matter-of-fact. “We’re not going anywhere for awhile.”