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Jack got the idea when he passed by a sandwich shop. Hunger and boredom had driven him in, and when he looked at what they were serving, of course the reuben caught his eye. It was nearing st. Patrick's day, and the shop was advertising the sandwich like the world was ending.
Jack was interested, but the price was ridiculous. So naturally, he came to the conclusion that he and Pitch needed to make their own. Just grabbing corned beef from the store didn't seem right however and thus, he spent the next hour researching how to make homemade corned beef.
It wasn't until he got home with the ingredients, setting them out, and Pitch came over with bemused curiosity that Jack realized he might have done good to tell Pitch about it three hours ago.
Jack stopped in the middle of unloading the bags and stared at Pitch. "We're making corned beef." He announced.
Pitch did that thing Jack loved where he stared at Jack for a second as he caught up to whatever Jack had said. Jack lived for that stare. Once Pitch was on board, he gave Jack an unimpressed look. "No, you're making corned beef." He turned and gave a careless flick of his hand over his shoulder, "Don't drag me into this. You're getting yourself into a mess. Again."
Jack stuck his tongue out at Pitch's receding back but was feeling too good to really mind. Besides, with a hidden confident grin, he knew Pitch would be joining him before long. Pitch couldn't resist a good challenge any more than Jack could.
After everything was set out came the problem of actually doing it, especially since Jack had haphazardly picked up ingredients from several different online recipes. He had gotten them with the idea of trying different things but it wasn't until he was staring at the single brisket he had that he recognized he really only had one good shot at it.
That realization spurred on another twenty minutes of reading online recipes. Pitch came by once to curiously check in but as soon as Jack raised a knowing eyebrow at him, Pitch had scowled and left.
In the end Jack decided he'd make multiple different pickling brines and then pick which one he liked the best. Just as he finished grouping ingredients with each other based on importance, Pitch once again came by. He eyed what Jack was doing before speaking in that smug not-quite-sarcasm inflection, "You've made such progress Jack, why, I'm a little impressed."
Jack just looked back to what he was doing as though Pitch had commented on the weather, "It's impressive because you've made no progress."
Pitch reeled himself up in almost offense just as Jack knew he would. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You can't judge me on my, my corned beef making skills until you try it yourself."
Pitch scowled, "Unlike you, Jack, I have important things to work on."
Jack snorted, "Like what? The fifth version of the same exact script?"
Pitch's eyes flashed as he took the bait, "They are not the same!"
"Right right, sorry, except for, for three whole sentences."
Pitch looked ready to poison Jack. Perfect.
"So, sure, go back to what you were doing and the, amazing," he put extra mocking emphasis on the word, "progress you're making. I've got this handled much better than you could anyway."
Pitch's eyes once again narrowed and Jack could tell by his face that he'd caught on to what Jack was playing. Both him and Jack stared at each other as they waited to see if Pitch would fall for it anyway.
He did. Of course he did. With an air of superiority he walked over to the side of Jack to look over the ingredients. "You'll make a mess of our kitchen Jack. What do you even need this many things for anyway? Just how spiced are you trying to make this?" He gave Jack a very judging look and Jack just grinned back, knowing he'd won.
Jack spent the next while explaining to Pitch the basics of the brine and showing him the different recipes and the different combinations he wanted to try. The farther he got in, the more Pitch's interest peaked and by the time the two moved to actually opening ingredients, Pitch was just as invested as Jack.
Their first problem came in the fact that each recipe called for a lot of brine, and considering there were six different brines they'd decided on trying, there was not nearly enough stove or pot room. Jack spent a solid five minutes trying to see if they secretly had more big pots before he realized Pitch was watching him with that cocky, 'I know better then you' grin.
With a suspicious glare and a huff, Jack straightened up from where he'd been looking under the sink, "What is it. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Pitch shrugged with an elegance that made being mad at him very difficult. "Oh nothing, don't mind me." His stupid shit-eating grin mocked Jack
"Pitch, I will put ice down the back of your shi-"
"You will not." Pitch interrupted him before he could finish.
"No but really, what's that look about?"
"Just what are you doing, Jack?"
Jack made an offended sound, "Looking for pots! What are you doing because, from where I'm standing, it looks suspiciously like nothing."
"And why are you looking for pots?"
Jack snapped. "Get out." He pointed toward the entryway, "I don't want your help anymore."
Pitch lightly rolled his eyes with that smooth snug grin and Jack couldn't decide if a punch of a kiss was the best way to get it off of him. "Jack. Are you planning on making a gallon for each one? Every brine you wanted to try?"
Jack stared at him for a second before he realized what Pitch was getting at. He turned away from Pitch to grab bowls, feeling ridiculously silly. "Shut up. You could have said something earlier."
"Why would I? You're very entertaining, you know, even when doing entirely fruitless things."
He brought the bowls over to Pitch and dropped them onto the counter. "Here. Start being useful and start the brines."
Pitch made that low mocking chuckle and Jack hated the way his heart still stuttered at it.
From there on the two worked efficiently well, measuring out the different ingredients and mixing the test brines. The only hiccups were Jack doing his usual and stealing small parts of various ingredients to snack on. No matter how many times Jack did it, Pitch still shot him that judgmental look. It reminded Jack of some noble looking down on a peasant and only spurred Jack to do it more.
Once they had their six brines came the hard part. Jack looked over them trying to decide which one was his favorite. Pitch was no help; he didn't have Jack's taste for raw ingredients and refused to try the brines on their own.
Jack eventually just made a frustrated noise and leaned back against a counter. "I can't decide between the top two, you choose."
Pitch raised his eyebrows, "Why choose one?"
Jack shot him a questioning look.
"Well, Jack, You've actually bought enough here," he gestured to the packaged brisket, "to try, at most, three."
"Wait really?" Jack looked up to him, a new excitement in him. He got bonus for the subtle way Pitch melted a little bit.
"Yes. We can try at the very least."
"I just grabbed something that looked vaguely like what I saw online." He gestured to the brisket as well.
Pitch shook his head like Jack was ridiculous and didn't say anything.
"Okay, I just want to remind you that you have no more experience making corned beef then I do. In fact, I probably know more because I'm the one who did all the research, so cut the, the superiority act."
Pitch just grinned in that vaguely malicious way of his before moving to pull out a cutting board. Jack chose not to make a single move to help as he watched Pitch set everything up while looking up on his own phone what he was supposed to be doing, which just proved Jack's point.
It wasn't until Jack noticed a small piece of good meat end up with the pile of scraps that he finally left his angrily sulking spot. Jack snuck his hand forward, nabbed the small fallen piece of meat from the cutting board and popped it into his mouth. Pitch froze in the middle of what he was doing to stare at Jack in horror for a second. "Jack!" The bafflement in his voice sent Jack into a fit of snickers, "That was raw! Entirely! You could poison yourself! Are you an animal?"
Jack grinned at him and shrugged, "I've eaten worse."
Pitch's face turned torn between the concern and the need to reprimand. He eventually settled on repeating, "Jack. It's raw."
"Shit really? My bad." Jack responded cheerily before going back to his spot, happily chewing on his prize. Pitch continued to stare at him for a solid thirty seconds before he finally went back to cutting the brisket, looking like he'd seen a crime and didn't know whether to report it or not.
By the time Pitch was done, he had two pieces of brisket that actually looked pretty good. Pitch obviously agreed, if the sheer egotistical pride coming off of him was any tell. Still, as Pitch was washing his hands, Jack patted him on the arm as he passed with a quick, "Nice job," before he went over to the cutting board and spotted another good small piece.
Unfortunately, before he could get it to his mouth, it was slapped out of his hand. Feeling minorly betrayed, Jack watched it fall to the floor before looking back to Pitch, "Wha-, why?" He asked, indignant.
Pitch looked at him like he was insane, "Jack. You'll get sick."
Jack rolled his eyes, "Haven't gotten sick yet."
"You mean you've done this before?"
"Obviously. Used to live around a lot of restaurants. I'd go to their kitchens and chat them up while stealing snacks. I'm quite used to it, stop worrying."
Pitch seemed to be having trouble processing that before he settled on shaking his head, "Regardless. You're rolling dice Jack; the odds will eventually catch you. You're going to get sick and then we'll have to pay conniving doctors, all just to make sure you don't die."
"I'll have to pay for it, and I'm not going to get sick." Jack stepped around Pitch to go back to the brines, setting up to make the two final official batches of brine.
Pitch made a choking frustrated noise behind him and Jack grinned. It quickly dropped as Pitch let out a pleading "Jack."
Jack turned to him and realized then, as he looked over Pitch's expression, that Pitch was serious. "This, this actually bothers you?"
"Yes. Of course it bothers me! How would it not bother me!"
Jack stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket and shrugged. "Doesn't seem like that big of a deal."
Pitch looked ready to pull out his own hair and Jack felt a small pinprick of guilt grab his attention.
"Listen, alright fine, if it really bothers you, I won't do it." He gave a casual one shoulder shrug hoping the sudden weird tension died down. Pitch relaxed and seemed to try to find something to say before giving up and turning to clean the cutting board behind him.
Jack watched him a moment before he went back to his own job, feeling strange. He still wasn't quite used to it, the deeper parts of a relationship. He'd been used to flings and lighthearted fun. It still felt strange to put an 'our' before possessions, a 'we' before actions. It still took him by surprise, the small things about his life that affected Pitch. He'd never second guessed trying raw meat. He knew the risks, he just didn't care about them.
It felt strange to have someone who did. Someone who actually had a hand in Jack's life. He ended up chewing on mustard seeds in some strange attempt to ward off the strange feeling.
Pitch eventually finished up and came to join Jack, wordlessly helping him with the brines. Thankfully he seemed content to move on and so Jack did too, helped by the judgmental look Pitch shot him when he licked a cinnamon stick. By the time they had the brines done, things felt settled into normal and Jack stepped back to look at their collective handiwork, feeling rather proud of it.
Pitch ended up being the one to heat the brines, Jack quickly growing bored with watching the water, but Jack did return to help put the briskets into the bags. It may have been his fault that brine ended up all over the floor but it was well worth it for the way Pitch looked as though he regretted every life choice.
By the time everything was done and cleaned up, Jack was exhausted. He convinced Pitch that they should just get something delivered, silently snickering as Pitch grumbled about delivery prices for the entire time Jack was ordering. The rest of the night was spent in a date night glow and by the time Jack passed out on the couch, only sleeping there because Pitch fell asleep with his legs across Jack's lap, Jack decided 'deeper dating' was well worth giving up random scraps of raw meat.
They took the corned beef out and cooked it exactly on st Patrick's day. By the time they had it cooked and were eating their homemade reubens, Jack had managed to convince Pitch to let that start a tradition, feeling strangely giddy at the idea of it, the promise of many years worth of corned beef with Pitch to come.