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“What. Are you doing.”
“Exactly what it looks like I’m doing. Arranging this burger to perfection, baby.”
“That is not a burger.”
“Ahh, you’re right. The word “burger” just can’t encompass the awesomeness of what this is. I shall call it… “The HOT! HOT! HOT! Burgernator.” Mmmm, and it’s all mine.”
Wes made a face of utter disgust. The abomination Travis was currently attempting to stuff in his mouth was seemingly a mix of everything the PD picnic had to offer, aside from the drinks or desserts.
There was a hot dog split in two over a hamburger patty and grilled chicken breast, topped with baked beans, macaroni salad, potato salad (though no actual salad, like with vegetables), potato chips, and doritos, with rivulets of ketchup, mustard, mayo, hot sauce, and barbecue sauce oozing out of the overstuffed bun. It required both of Travis’s hands and the inadequate support of the flimsy paper plate just to stay somewhat together. Even so, bits were ending up all over Travis, the picnic table, and, judging by the sudden appearance of Hudson, the ground as well.
It was like watching a python eating a deer. So gross, but apparently impossible to look away from. And the noises Travis was making were frankly obscene.
“Ah mah gaahhhd WUS. WUS THUS IS THUH BUST HING I HUV EVUH EHTEN,” followed by moans of appreciation and noisy chewing. Wes couldn’t even touch his own salad. Might never want to eat again.
Travis swallowed, holding the mess out to his partner across the table. “Wah’a try a bite Wes?”
Wes leaned away from the offering, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from it to look at Travis. That was a shit-eating grin if he’d ever seen one. And in this case, appropriately so.
“You know I wouldn’t touch that if you paid me to. I’d say I can’t believe you’re eating it, let alone enjoying it, but it is YOU we’re talking about.”
Something flashed across Travis’s face, like he wasn’t sure if he should be hurt by that remark. But he just shrugged and went back to eating. “Your loss.” He was finished in just a few more bites, after which he proceeded to lick the sauce from his fingers, one by one. In the most lewd way possible, while staring at Wes through lowered lashes.
Wes crossed his arms over his chest and felt his face heat, even as he finally managed to look away. “How the hell are we going to beat Kate and Amy at volleyball now? You probably won’t even be able to move for like an hour.”
“Ah Wes, after all this time you still underestimate my powers of digestion? We got this.”