Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Alright you three, pack up your shit and get outta here. I'm gonna finish out tonight.”

“Heard, Chef.”

“You got it, Boss.”

“...fine.”

Joey paused as he took in his three line cooks. Pickles had a few stains on his chef's coat, Nico was nearly drenched in sweat, and even Ruby seemed more ruffled than usual. Hell, he was sure he wasn't no spring chicken at the moment either. It had been the longest shift in recent memory, with nonstop tickets wrung in, nearly every dish with some bullshit modification, and he'd had to go out and snipe at customers no less than six times throughout the night. Six! It was probably a new record for people having pissed off the Chef. Frankly, they were all exhausted.

The man exhaled slowly and added, “Oh, and good work today.”

That pulled them up short, and each turned from what they were doing to give him a look.

“Wow. Thanks, Boss,” Pickles replied, all starry-eyed and eager to please.

Nico turned a shit-eating grin on him. “Who are you and what have you done with the Chef, man?” he snarked, earning him a glare from the Executive Chef.

“Watch it smart ass, or I might rethink what I was about to say next.”

Ruby merely raised an eyebrow at him, as though to say, Well, we're waiting.

God, sometimes they annoyed the shit out of him. Well, no, nearly all the time they annoyed the shit out of him. Still, they'd gotten through this hell of an evening without bitching too much, and the restaurant hadn't caught fire, so honestly they deserved some reward.

“Before you leave, talk to the bar and get something on me.” Joey narrowed his eyes at them, “Nothing top shelf.”

After some expressed gratitude and a bit more snark, the three stepped out of the kitchen toward the bar, leaving Joey blissfully alone. He groaned and stretched causing his back to pop loudly. “Fuck me, last time I agree to work a double. I'm too fuckin’ old for this shit,” he muttered, knowing that he was lying to himself.

Thankfully, pretty much everything was finished for the evening. He'd do one last sweep, then close it down for the night. Then he'd get the fuck outta here.

“Joey? Oh good, you're still here,” came probably the last voice he wanted to hear right now.

Joey closed his eyes and leaned his head back with a groan. Goddamnit, what now? “What is it, Terry?”

“Couple things,” the manager replied. “First things first though, you did real good tonight Joey, you ‘n the others. I'm real appreciative of how well you keep things runnin’ in here. Makes my job sure a hell of a lot easier.”

He finally looked over at Terry, but the man seemed genuine enough. Hmph. “Well, at least someone notices all I do for this place.”

Terry flashed him a grin, “I do. This place'd burn down without you holdin’ down the fort back here, ‘n I'm grateful to have you at my back.”

He flushed slightly, unsure how to receive such open praise. Terry was a bit of a hard ass—understatement of the century by the way—who wasn't normally one to butter someone up like this. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Err… what was the other thing you wanted?”

“Right. Well, you familiar with the National Restaurant Association Show?”

Joey frowned, “Not really.”

“It's just a big conference. They do workshops, food presentations, unveil new restaurant technology, that kinda thing,” Terry said.

“Uh huh, and why do I care?”

Terry rolled his eyes, “You care, because the owner of Bistro Huddy just called me, and wants us to go to it.”

Joey blinked, “Us? Wait, why do they want me to go? I don't need to learn about how other people cook their food or whatever. I got a system.”

“I know, Joey, and that's the thing. The owner wants to book you to present a dish. You know, get the Bistro Huddy name out there and drum up some interest.”

Now that gave him pause. He knew his food was delicious, hell, probably the best in the area. But he'd never considered… presenting it before. “And what exactly would this require of me?” he asked, still not quite on board with the idea.

“It'd be a bit like a workshop. You have a single thirty minute to an hour time slot where you talk about the dish, cook it, then answer any questions people have about it.”

Still a bit suspicious, Joey asked, “That's it?

“Yeupp, the rest of the conference we'd be there to look into anythin’ we wanna bring back to Bistro Huddy. Recipes or technology or whatever. We're meant to make notes on things we might be able to use, then I'll send the list back to the owner for ‘em to look into it further.”

“So… that's why you're going?”

“And to keep an eye on you,” Terry replied cheekily.

Joey huffed at him. “Do I even have a say in the matter? Kinda sounds like I have to go.”

Shaking his head, the manager replied, “Naw, owner made it clear that while it's preferred we go, it ain't gonna cost you yer job or nothin’ if you don't wanna. Still, can't imagine why you'd wanna turn down an all-expenses paid vacation, even if we gotta do a bit of workin’ while we're there.”

Hmph. Good point. “When is this, exactly?”

“May, but I'll need your answer on whether you wanna go by tomorrow. Need to get your name and workshop into the list of presenters.”

“Was there a specific dish I'm supposed to, uh, show off?”

Terry's answering smirk made his stomach flip, “Why, our very own Chef Joey’s signature Mahi Mahi.”

That made Joey cackle, “What? Seriously? But we always eighty-six the Mahi Mahi. What's the fuckin’ point?”

“Well yea, we eighty-six it cause it's the second most popular dish, and you never order enough.”

“Wouldn't the Santa Fe Chicken make more sense?”

Terry waved a hand dismissively, “Naw, while it is the most popular, it ain't exactly unique, is it? Plenty of places make a similar meal. Can't get your Mahi Mahi recipe anywhere but here, though.” Terry crossed his arms and lofted a brow at Joey, “Besides, maybe gettin’ the word out'll finally make you order enough.”

Joey scowled, “I don't like to over order. Fish don't keep, and I'd rather run out than not sell all of it. I'm trying to keep our margins low, which you should be grateful for.”

With a fond look, Terry replied, “And I am, but we eighty-six it nearly every night, ain't that enough proof that we can get just a bit more?”

“The one night I over order is the night we don't sell it all, mark my words.” They'd had this argument before, and Joey was too tired to recount all of the reasons behind his decision. “Look, you can call the owner and tell ‘em I'll go, alright? It's in May, you said?”

“Yea, seventeenth through the twentieth. It'll be in Chicago.”

Joey rubbed his chin, the coarse hair of his five o'clock shadow scratching at his fingers. “Chicago, huh? Been a while since I was out that way.” A thought occurred to him then, and he glanced at Terry, “Hang on, if you and I are gone for four days, who, exactly, is going to be making sure the restaurant doesn't, as you so eloquently put it, ‘burn down’?”

“Deb's gonna be managin’ out front for me, she'll keep things from gettin’ too out of hand. You've got about six months to sort out your own back of the house. It's only four days though, Joey, surely nothin’ too crazy can happen in so short a time.”

“Four days, right…” he'd just have to make sure Ruby knew everything she needed to by then, because hell would freeze over before he let Pickles or Nico be in charge.

Terry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, “That's the spirit. I'll call the owner back first thing in the morning so we can get everythin’ sorted.”

“...any chance we could get someone else to come too?”

The manager frowned, “What d'you mean?”

“Well…” Joey drawled, an idea forming in his head, “you said there are workshops, right? So I bet there's plenty that could benefit bartenders, servers… hostes—”

“Damnit Joey, no,” Terry groused, cutting him off. “I'm not needlin’ the owner so you can make a business trip some sort of… romantic getaway.”

“Aw c'mon, Terry. Look, she's the first person people see when they come in Bistro Huddy, don't you think she should have all the tools to make a good impression?”

Terry gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Flirt on your own time, not company time.”

“Hmph. Well, speaking of, I'm finished here. So, it alright with you if I go flirt off company time?”

“Yea yea, get on outta here. I've still got a few things to do so I'll lock up tonight.”

Parting ways, Terry left for his office while Joey strolled toward the host stand. At his approach, Amber glanced up from where she'd been wiping down menus. Joey loved the moment she noticed him. Every time, her eyes lit up like the stars themselves shone from them. Made him feel like he could do no wrong. An impressive feat, considering his rap sheet.

Smirking, he said, “Hey baby, you really put us through the ringer tonight, huh?”

She flushed and ducked her head. “Yea, I know. I'm sorry about that Joey. I've never seen so many reservations on a Tuesday night before.”

He shrugged, “No worries, we pulled through, didn't we? And hey, now that the night's over, you want a ride home?”

“Okay!” she replied, perhaps a bit too quickly if her reddening cheeks were any indication.

Chuckling, he leaned an arm against the host stand so he could crowd into her a bit. In a low, sultry voice, he purred, “My home or yours?”

God, but she blushed so prettily. “Joey!” she gasped, slightly scandalized. “We're at work.”

“Don't worry baby, I'm off the clock, I got the bosses’ permission to flirt off company time,” he replied with a salacious grin.

She giggled at him, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yea, so why don't you punch your card so we can take advantage of Terry's giving nature.”

Sticking her tongue out at him playfully, she stood and said, “You're so ridiculous. Fine.” As she left to go clock out, she glanced back at him demurely and added, “For the record though, when you're flirting with me, maybe you shouldn't talk about Terry's giving nature.” Laughing at his squawk of protest, the hostess skipped off to go end her shift for the night.

It wasn't long before she rejoined him at the front, and he smirked at her and tilted his head. “You never did answer my question earlier, you know.”

She pretended to mull it over for a moment, but there was a glint in her stormy blue eyes that had him a bit weak at the knees. “I could be persuaded to go home with you.”

Internally, he gave an excited fist pump. But to her, he'd have to give a cool impression. “Oh yea? Well, if we head back to my place, I can open a bottle of nice wine and show you a real nice way to wind down after such a stressful day.”

Amber smiled and wrapped her arms around his, shifting up onto her toes so she could give his cheek a light peck. “Sounds like a date, then.”

Joey settled an arm around her waist and tugged her close, leading the way toward his bright red toyota pickup. “I'm gonna be honest Amber, I’m a bit cooked out tonight, but if you ain't eaten yet we could grab something on the way back to my place.”

“Shitty food and good wine? Honestly that sounds great, Joey.”

A brief stop at an In-N-Out drive-thru, and they were heading back toward his house. “By the way, I got some exciting news.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, some people reached out to me earlier. They want me to give a presentation on my food at some fancy restaurant seminar.” So maybe he was stretching the truth a bit; a little embellishing never hurt nobody.

“Oh my Gosh, Joey, that's amazing!”

He grinned at her briefly before focusing back on the road. “Thanks babe. Yea, Terry and I are heading out to Chicago in May and—”

“Terry's going too? What, is he giving a presentation on how to be a tight ass?”

Joey let out a mean laugh at that. “Ha! Bet he'd be the first person they reach out to for that.” Still chuckling, he continued, “No, he'd going to inspect some new tech or whatever and see if we can use it in the restaurant. Probably shit like the Table Needs crap Pickles is always talking about for his food truck. New POS systems, you know. Things we don't really need but sounds nice to tell investors and customers and shit.”

“Wow, well I hope you have a fun time, even if it is work.”

He shrugged, “I was actually hoping to get you included too, ya know. Gave some good arguments why the first person customers see at Bistro Huddy should get to see some of this crap too. Learning experience or whatever.” He sighed, “But I was shot down.”

She hummed. “Well, I appreciate you thinking about me, but I've told you before Joey, I'm kinda sick of only doing dates and romantic things when it's convenient or work related. If you want to take a romantic trip sometime, there are better opportunities to do so when you aren't working the whole time.”

“Huh, guess that's true. Sorry, wasn't thinking about it like that. Just thought it'd be cool to spend some romantic nights out in Chicago.”

A small smile lit up her face and she blushed at him. “Well… I can't say I'm opposed to that. And I do wish I could be there to support your presentation. I'm really proud of you.”

Now it was his turn to redden. Coughing, he turned into his driveway and parked the car. “Well, shall we head inside and get started on some good wine, fast food, and get to, ah, enjoying each other's company?”

“Lead the way, Chef.”

Chapter Text

“Now arriving in: O'Hare International Airport. The local time is One Thirty-Four pm, and the weather is a sunny seventy–eight degrees Fahrenheit. We hope you enjoy your stay!”

Joey grumbled and shifted about in his seat. Thankfully he'd had the aisle, but airplane seats always did a number on his back. Especially after a damn four hour flight. Dark brown eyes settled on the lightly sleeping man next to him, and he huffed. God did he wish he'd fallen asleep like Terry. Getting up at four in the fucking morning to be at LAX at five was not his idea of a good time. Who the hell needed to be at an airport two hours ahead of their flight? Apparently fucking Terry did. Bastard. Especially since they'd gotten through security in about twenty minutes then had another hour and a fucking half of time to sit around waiting.

He nudged the man next to him. “Wakey wakey, Boss.”

Terry grunted and hesitantly lifted his navy blue sleeping mask. “We there already?”

“Already?” Joey scoffed. “It's been four fuckin’ hours. I'm ready to get off this damned flight.”

“Well why the hell didn't you sleep?” Terry asked, as though flabbergasted by the very idea that some people couldn't instantly fall asleep on a plane.  Bastard.

“Ugh, don't ask stupid questions, you make me wanna punch your teeth in,” Joey groused.

The manager lifted his hands placatingly, “Woah, easy there Joey.” He rolled his neck, sighing when it let out a faint pop. “Look, I ain't tryin'a get on yer bad side, okay? Clearly you're in a mood.”

“Don't make me sound like a cranky teenager.”

“Well then stop actin’ like one.”

They glared at each other briefly, and something primal in Joey was immensely pleased when Terry looked away first with a shake of his head. “Alright, alright. I'm sorry, okay? Clearly flyin’s got you madder 'n a wet hen. We've got a whole four days ahead of us together, so let's not start shit off on a bad note, alright?”

Joey wanted to put up more of a fight; he was positively itching to have a go at someone, and Terry was a very convenient target. However, it was hard to hold onto his frustration when Terry was making so much sense. Fucking bastard. “Yea… yea alright.”

Terry gave him a pleased smile, which made him glance away, face heating in annoyance. They didn't try to make conversation for the few minutes that the plane was pulling into the terminal. The second that the seatbelt sign turned off and the plane was docked, however, Joey shot out of his seat and was at the door. Airplane etiquette be damned.

It was a few minutes before Terry caught up with him—enough time for Joey to take care of his biological needs—then they were heading down to baggage claim.

“Check in at the hotel is at four, so we've got a couple hours to kill before our room is ready. You wanna grab a slice of pizza or somethin’ while we're waitin’?”

Joey gave the other man a look like he'd just suggested they go kick a bunch of puppies for fun. “Terry, you can't be fucking serious. We're in Chicago, man. One of the most famous pizza capitols in the world. We're not getting our first taste of Chicago pizza in a fucking airport.” The Executive Chef shook his head in disgust at the very thought. “No, at some point while we're here I'll take you to one of those little hole-in-the-wall mom and pop pizzerias, and you can have a real Chicago deep dish, capisce?”

Rolling his eyes, Terry replied, “Yes, Chef.”

“Good. Now let's get our luggage and figure out lunch before I starve to death.”

Terry laughed at that, “God damn, but you sure are dramatic when you're grumpy, Joey.”

That earned the other man a look, but he merely ignored it and just kept snickering. Which, after a minute or two of silent fuming, Joey could admit that perhaps he was being a bit ridiculous, and was unable to prevent the rueful smile that crept up on his face.

A smile that widened into a full blown grin when he spied Terry's suitcase making its way around the bend. “Speaking of dramatic, I still can't believe you use that monstrosity as your suitcase when you travel. We're in public, Terry. For shame.”

The other man sniffed and stuck up his nose. “It's practical, Joey. After all, you saw it the second it got down the baggage claim, didn’t you?”

It was funny when he'd seen it the first time, and it was even funnier now. Barely holding back his laughter, Joey said, “Well yea, but I mean, c'mon Terry. Look at it!”

They both turned toward said suitcase as it neared. It was on the larger side of traveling luggage, with four wheels on one end and a retractable handle on the other. Very useful for a long weekend trip. However, its standout feature was that the entire thing was a glaringly vibrant yellow, with spattered black polka dots.

“I can't believe I have to be seen with you,” Joey laughed.

“Oh har har. Just get yer own suitcase so we can get some grub. I'm so hungry my stomach done thinks my throat's been cut.”

“Have you always been so full of these southern idioms, or do I just bring out the country boy in you?” He couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he watched Terry turn beet red.

“Well if it bothers you so much, I'll try to keep my southern charm to a minimum,” Terry snarked back.

Joey leaned over to ruffle Terry's hair, ignoring his yelp of protest. “Don't worry about it, cowboy. Just don't hold my temper against me and we'll call it square.”

They bantered back and forth for a couple more minutes while they waited for Joey's suitcase to turn up. Truthfully, the man nearly missed it while he was ribbing Terry, promptly causing the Tennessee native to declare that Joey no longer had a leg to stand on in terms of who had the better luggage.

“Yea yea, why don't you look up a place to eat so I can call Amber and let her know we landed.”

“Sure. No pizza, any other requests?”

“No mexican either. Bet anything we get here would be shit compared to LA.”

Terry offered a mock bow while pulling out his phone. “As you wish, yer Majesty.”

Joey gave him a finger while he dialed Amber's number.

“Hi Joey!”

“Hey babe, we just landed and got our stuff.”

“I'm glad you got there safe. Did you sleep at all on the flight?”

“Nah, Terry snores like a chainsaw. Couldn't get a wink.”

“I do not!”

“How would you know?”

Laughter echoed from the other end of the line. “Well, hopefully you'll get some rest at the hotel.”

Joey focused back on the phone call, ignoring the stink-eye Terry was giving him. “Yea, still got a couple hours before we can check in, though. So we're gonna get a late lunch.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”  There was some shuffling from Amber and what sounded like a distant car horn. “Okay, well I've got to go. I'm going with Bridgette to shop for some outfits for her date tomorrow with Trick.”

His good mood wilted a bit, and he groaned. “Ugh, don't remind me. Sweet thing like her does not deserve to put up with his bullshit.”

“Don't worry Joey, they really like each other. Besides, if nothing else comes of their relationship, at least he finally got her to break up with that asshole Pete.”

He huffed at her. “Fair enough. Well, have fun with Bridgette, Amber.”

She made a kissing sound and replied, “Bye Joey, have fun with Terry!”

The Chef rolled his eyes fondly and stowed away his phone. “Find anything to eat yet, Terry?”

“Yea, there's a cafe not too far from here that has sandwiches and some german fare. Seems as good a place as any.”

Eventually, they arrived at a moderately-sized cafe called The Berghoff. Unfortunately it was fairly packed due to the mealtime hour, but after some slick talking on Terry's end they managed to cajole a young couple to vacate one of the tables so they could sit down. Joey kept watch over their chairs like a hawk while Terry went up to the counter with orders to just pick something Joey would like, since he didn't have the patience to look over a menu.

“Can't you just pick somethin’? I don't wanna hear your bitchin’ if I pick out the wrong thing.”

“Jesus Christ, Terry. We've known each other for nearly two decades, and you've been selling my menu for well over half of it. If you don't know my tastes by now, then you're a shittier manager than I thought.”

And that was that.

Finally, the two men were able to relax a bit as their food arrived.

Joey was quite delighted when he saw that Terry'd ordered him a grilled lamb burger. With the feta, grilled onions, garlic aioli, and blackened tomato, it really spoke to his Greek roots, minimal though they were.

Terry's choice of a portobello panini with pepper jack and roasted red pepper did make him arch a brow though. “Aren't you from Tennessee? Didn't think you'd be one to go right for vegetarian food.”

The southern man rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Don't get me wrong, Joey, I like a good southern barbecue or a thick juicy ribeye as much as the next man. But I can't do red meat after flyin’, gives me indigestion somethin’ fierce. Don't want to spoil the trip before it's started, and considerin’ we're sharin’ a room and all…”

“Ugh, yea, okay, I get it.”

They ate together in silence for a bit, simply eager to get some good food in their bellies after nearly six hours without much other than a few granola bars for breakfast. When Joey had finished off his burger, he slid his box toward the center of the table so Terry could help him pick off the fries, seeing as the other man's meal hadn't come with any.

Joey flipped a coin to see who could have the last fry, then complained when Terry won the toss. With a sigh Terry tossed the last bit of food at his head, then nearly laughed himself sick when Joey almost fell off his chair trying to catch it in his mouth. Sitting back up, Joey winked at the other man as he chewed up the final fry. “Good pick, Terry. And I told you you'd know what I like.”

“Hmph, well I'm full as a tick.” He glanced toward his watch and sighed. “Still an hour and a half till check in, though.”

He frowned slightly. “Damn… really? I don't really want to sit around at the airport for another hour.”

Terry shrugged. “We could grab a shuttle to downtown near the hotel. Even if we can't check in, there's probably a bit of sight seein’ we could do nearby. After all, the conference is gonna have us booked out most days.”

Joey mulled that over for a moment, then glanced off the side of the table. “I dunno man, that means I've gotta be seen walking around with that horrible yellow eyesore.”

He grinned impishly as Terry reached over to give his arm a light smack. “Lay off my luggage, Joey. It's been with me since I moved outta Tennessee, and I won't hear any slander against it!”

“Damn, that long?” Joey let out a low whistle. “And here I'd thought you bought it specifically for this trip to annoy me. Then I come to find out you’ve had twenty years to replace the thing?”

Terry bumped his shoulder into Joey's as they walked toward departures. “Oh shush you. If you must know, I bought this one for a reason.”

“One other than being the most embarrassingly bright luggage to ever grace the Earth?”

“Yes, other than that.”

Joey waited for about twenty seconds, but when no other information was forthcoming, he pressed, “And that reason happens to be?”

Terry shook his head. “Oh no. No no no. I ain't tellin’ you that, Joey. I'll never hear the end of it.”

The grin tugging at his lips turned positively wicked. “Oh ho? Well now I definitely need to hear it.”

“Not happenin’.”

“C'mon Terry, we're friends, right? Friends are supposed to share their most embarrassing secrets with each other.”

Terry leveled a flat look at the Chef. “Joey Cattaneo, I am not givin’ you more ammunition to make my weekend hell, y'hear me? So drop it.”

Joey skipped ahead so he could stop in front of Terry, facing him with his hands clasped. “Look, I promise I'll be good. But the curiosity is gonna kill me. Please?”

The southern man pursed his lips and eyed Joey up and down. “You swear it?”

Eagerly, Joey crossed a finger over his heart and replied, “On Nico's life.”

That earned a laugh from Terry, who grinned and shook his head. “You're incorrigible. Fine. If you must know…” he hesitated for a moment longer, then sighed and crossed his arms defensively. “The pattern reminds me of my favorite flower. They grew everywhere in my childhood, and I don't get many opportunities to see ‘em these days.”

There was maybe ten seconds of stunned silence, then Joey doubled over and burst out laughing. “H-Holy shit,” he wheezed, grasping at his sides. Other people nearby were giving them odd looks, but Joey didn't give two shits. Like, Holy shit! This was the best early birthday present anyone had ever given him.

Terry's face was flushed a deep red, and he scowled and yanked his suitcase forward to step around Joey. This merely brought the luggage to the Executive Chef's attention, sparking an entirely new fit of laughter. “Screw you Joey, ya ass. Find yer own damn way to the hotel.”

“Wait, wait,” Joey gasped, reaching out to grab Terry's arm and prevent him from leaving. “Just… Jesus Christ, you got to give me a moment. That was probably the last thing I ever expected to hear come out of your mouth, Terry.” He was still trying to bite back his laughter. “Fuck, that got me though. I just never knew you were so delicate—”

“God damnit, Joey! Let go of me!”

Joey peered down at Terry, noting how flushed and upset the other man really was. Biting his lip to stop the next barb, Joey took a deep breath, then exhaled, managing to get his laughter under control. “Okay okay. Look, I'm sorry. That was… kind of a dick move, on my part.”

Terry squinted up at him, “Ya think? Dickhead.”

He grinned and stepped out of Terry's way, then fell into lock-step with the man as they made their way toward transportation. “I'll make it up to you.”

“Not sure what you could possibly do to make up for laughin’ at me when you swore you wouldn't.”

“Between the pair of us we've got at least one functioning brain. I bet we could come up with something.”

The manager huffed. “Let's just get outta the airport first and get a shuttle before I lose my damn mind.”

Joey shrugged. “I dunno. Lunch was nice. Helped me wind down a bit after the shit plane ride.”

“Well, I reckon that's true,” said Terry.

They bickered back and forth a bit more as they at last exited the terminal. Joey winced as the afternoon sun immediately blared into their eyes, and then lamented the fact that his sunglasses were packed pretty deeply into his luggage. Wasn't Chicago supposed to be windy and rainy and shitty in the springtime? If he hadn't known better, it was like he was still in LA.

A pair of sunglasses were shoved under his nose, and Joey blinked then looked over at his travelling companion. Terry sported a pair of dark brown Ray-Bans with gold wire framing. The pair offered to him were more black in color, with a thicker rim. “Uhh, thanks.”

“Had the extra pair. Just don't lose ‘em.”

Joey slipped them onto his face and was surprised to find how well they fit him, considering Terry's features were a bit more narrow than his own. “So, where to?”

Terry nodded up the road a bit. “Shuttles pick up over there, then it's a half hour drive to the area where our hotel is.”

“And we still got over an hour till we can get a room?”

Glancing down at his watch, Terry said, “Mmm, by the time we get there probably closer to forty-five minutes.”

“That's not too bad. We could walk around a bit or grab a beer somewhere.”

“Well, let's get a move-on then.”

Chapter Text

Joey was full of restless energy by the time they stepped off the shuttle. Now that they were right off of Lake Michigan, the wind had picked up quite a bit, and he was nearly tempted to fish his jacket out of his suitcase. But he figured after a few minutes of walking around he'd be overheating in the damn thing anyway. Speaking of… “Damn, we're really gonna be right off the water, huh?”

Their hotel was maybe a two minute walk from the lakeshore. The breeze caused the waters to gleam like sapphires as ripples spread across the surface of the lake. Joey could spy a fair few boats out on the lake, some even dragging water skiers and innertubes behind them. Braver souls than him, considering the water was probably cold enough to freeze your nuts off. Still, with the sun high in the sky overhead, it was practically an idyllic day.

“Yeupp, and if you look over there, you'll see the place where the conference is happenin’. McCormmick Place,” Terry replied, pointing toward a building just across the road from their hotel. The building was a massive glass structure with a sloped metal roof. From their vantage point Joey could see a step-like fountain that spanned the length of one side of the building, surrounded by vibrantly green trees and hedges. An immaculately manicured lawn surrounded the convention center as well, honestly livelier than anything a person would be able to grow and manage in the LA heat.

“They really don't spare any expenses on this kinda thing,” Joey remarked, taking the picturesque view that the two of them would have nearly five days to enjoy.

“This is the biggest annual event of its kind in the country, so they gotta live up to the hype I guess.”

“Well hey, you won't catch me complaining. Especially since we ain't spending a damn dime on any of it,” Joey replied, grinning at their good fortune.

Terry winked, “Roll Tide. So, what d'you wanna do ‘till four then? We could probably grab a beer somewhere around here.”

Joey grimaced and rolled his shoulders. “All the same to you, Terry, my back is already killing me. Any more sitting and I don't know if I'm going to be in any kind of shape for the convention tomorrow. You wanna just walk around a bit, see what's nearby?”

“Works for me.”

The pair decided to stroll down one of the main streets that led away from the lake and further into downtown. Joey made sure to take note of all the bars within walking distance of their hotel, particularly excited about one with just a pair of luscious pink lips as signage. Maybe that's some sort of strip joint? Hell, if he was gonna be away from Amber for nearly a week, maybe he could have a bit of fun there. As long as he just looked, it wasn't bad. Joey glanced sidelong at his travelling companion, who was pointing out a nearby souvenir shop. He bet he could convince Terry to let loose one of the evenings they were here.

“—you think?”

Joey blinked, “Ah, sorry, what did you say?”

“I was sayin’ I ain't never been to Chicago before. Was debating whether or not it was worth it to do all the touristy stuff. Y'know, check out some of the parks, see The Bean, get a jacket that says ‘I Love Chicago’ or whatever on it. That sorta thing.”

“You didn't mention it was your first time here.”

Terry shrugged. “I ain't actually travelled too many places other than back home and California. Shoot, first time I'd ever been to Vegas was when we were savin’ Bridgette from that scammer.”

“Wow, okay. I gotta take you gambling sometime, then.” Joey scrubbed at his chin and peered toward the souvenir shop. “Are we even gonna have time for any of that other stuff, though?”

“Memory serves, we'll mostly have the evenings to ourselves,” Terry replied, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through their itinerary for a moment, then offered it for Joey to see. “Y'see here? First two days end at five for us, and the fourth day finishes in the afternoon. Really only gonna be Monday night where we're booked out pretty late.”

Joey nodded. “Dunno if I'll be down to do all the tourist crap myself, but we don't have to spend every second together either. Since we got some time to kill though, you wanna check out that store?”

The shop was a pretty typical tourist trap. Lots of knick-knacks, mugs, clothing, and other assorted goods that all mentioned Chicago in some way. Terry wandered off toward a wall that had various patterned ties on it, while Joey decided to sift through a few racks of t-shirts. One of the shirts had him choking on a laugh, and he snatched it off the hanger and made a beeline for his friend.

“Think it'd be unprofessional to wear one of these at Bistro Huddy? I know the gray tie is a classic, but could be fun to spice it up occasionally,” Terry asked, holding aloft two different ties. One had a silhouette of the Chicago skyline on a royal blue background, and the other was a bird's-eye view image of downtown Chicago next to the lake.

Joey barely spared them a glance. “I dunno, but I found the perfect shirt for you.” He chucked the t-shirt at Terry, smacking him in the chest. “Try this on to see if it fits, no peeking at the design.”

“Uhh… sure.” Terry gave him an odd look, but set the ties back on the wall and started to pull the shirt over his head. Eagerly, Joey fished out his phone and took a step back from Terry to line up the angle. The second he'd tugged the shirt down over his head, there was a flash of light and Joey was roaring with laughter.

“What the hell?”

Cackling, Joey flipped the phone around so Terry could see the photo. There, on the front of the shirt was a picture of the famous sculpture The Bean, and written underneath it were the words, ‘I flicked the Bean.’

“That's going up on the wall in the kitchen,” Joey chortled.

Terry rolled his eyes at the Executive Chef and yanked the shirt back off and then threw it at his face. “I feel the need to remind you that I know where you’re sleepin’ for the next five nights.”

“C'mon, this'll be the perfect pick-me-up whenever shit's hitting the fan at work. Look, I'll buy the shirt for you, out of my own pocket.”

“I will go all Krav Maga on your ass, Joey, don't tempt me.”

Joey snickered and tossed the shirt onto one of the shelves, then picked up a leather cowboy hat that had a buckle in the shape of the Bean. “How about this one then, really emphasize your Tennessee roots, eh?” He dropped it onto his own head and turned to face Terry, waggling his brows at the other man.

The manager was giving him an odd look. “Huh.”

“...what?”

“Nothing, just…” Terry's eyes sized Joey up and down, lingering on the hat for a few seconds, then staring right into his eyes. “Looks good on you.”

Heat crept up the back of his neck, and he fiddled with the brim awkwardly. “Err… think so?”

“Leather's kind of a caramel color, matches your eyes almost exactly.”

His flush deepened enough that it was probably visible on his face. A nearby mirror proved Terry was right, and Joey wasn't quite sure what to do with the observation.

“I uh… I don't usually wear hats, kitchen hairnet notwithstanding…”

“I'll trade you.”

Joey tilted his head at the other man. “Trade me?”

Terry's answering grin was almost predatory. “Anythin' that got you this flustered is definitely worth the price. You can get me that stupid shirt, and I'll get you the cowboy hat.”

“I am not flustered!” he groused.

“Sure, that's why yer not redder ‘n a rash on a road hog.”

Joey blinked, pausing a moment to fully digest that one. Then he let out a light laugh and replied, “You know what? If you come into Bistro Huddy on one of your days off wearing that shirt, then deal.”

Terry stuck out a hand. “Same for you ‘n that hat.”

They clasped hands and shook, sealing the bet. “Bet you won't wear that shirt to the hotel.”

“Keep the Stetson on an’ I'll think about it.”

Joey grinned wryly and shoved the hat onto Terry's head. “Buy it for me first, cowboy, then I'll wear it,” he replied with a wink. Snagging the shirt back off the shelf, Joey strode up to the cashier to make his purchase. Yea, the guys would probably rib him about the stupid hat for a day or two, but Terry would never live down owning that shirt. Totally worth it.

Once they'd made their respective purchases and left the shop, Terry glanced down at his watch. “Reckon we could start moseyin’ our way down to the hotel now. Might get there a few minutes early, but it's probably close enough that we should be able to get the room sorted.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Joey, and he turned back toward the hotel.

A throat cleared behind him. Joey looked back at his friend, noting the bemused expression on his face. “Forgettin’ somethin’?” Terry asked, wiggling the hat back and forth.

“Seriously?”

“If nothin’ else it'll keep the sun outta yer face,” Terry replied, eyes dancing with undisguised mischief.

“That's what your sunglasses are for!”

“Well I might be inclined to take ‘em back, seein’ as you have other means of protectin’ your pretty little eyes now.”

Joey groaned and grabbed the hat, fixing it in place on his head. Then he held his hands up as though saying, ‘Happy now?’

“Well, don't you look pretty as a peach.”

“Oh shut up and put your shirt on.”

Smirking, Terry replied, “I said I'd think about it if you wore the hat. Well, I've done my thinkin’, and I'm fine without it.”

Joey went back through their conversation in his mind, then huffed when he realized Terry was right. “Yea, well, this hat still ain't as bad as your flower power suitcase that you've been carrying this whole time.”

“Keep tellin’ yerself that, darlin’,” Terry shot back mockingly as he started walking back to the hotel.

Something in Joey's stomach flipped at the endearment, but he quickly shook it off and hurried to catch up with the other man.

They made it back to the hotel with a few minutes to spare. There was a brief wait while a few people ahead of them checked-in, but then it was finally time for them to get their room keys.

“Hi! Welcome to the Marriott Marquis Chicago. Can I get the name on your reservation, please?” chirped the receptionist, a cute, curvy young woman with pin-straight black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. The plaque on her desk showed her name to be Somi Yoon.

“Should be under Terrence Fletcher.”

“Alright, one moment please,” Somi replied, typing on her computer. After a moment, she hummed and said, “It seems your original booking was for a Guest Suite with two queen beds for five nights?”

“That's right,” confirmed Terry.

However, the odd phrasing caught Joey's attention. “Original booking?”

She smiled apologetically. “Yes, I'm afraid the original room we had flagged for you was one of our accessibility rooms. It has since needed to be reallocated to another guest who requested a room with accomodations. Due to the National Restaurant Association Show happening this weekend, I'm afraid we are entirely booked out and were unable to get you a room with your previous specifications.”

Joey could feel a vein in his temple begin to throb as he clenched his jaw, temper flaring. “So, what exactly does that mean? Cause it sounds to me like a fuck up on your end, not ours.”

Terry reached out to press a hand against Joey's shoulder. “Woah! Easy there, cowboy. I'm well sure it ain't her fault.” He turned toward Somi with a lopsided smile, dialing that southern charm up to an eleven. “I'm sincerely sorry for my friend, ma'am. We had a very long flight this mornin’ ‘n he's just plum tuckered. I'm sure this little mix up has already been sorted on your end, ain't that right?”

Her smile was a bit more brittle now, and she kept her attention entirely fixed on Terry, ignoring Joey as though he weren't even there. “Yes sir. Fortunately, one of the rooms we did have available was one of our Executive Suites. Your stay with us has been upgraded to this room at no extra charge, for your inconvenience.”

“Well, that sounds just swell. I'm mighty appreciative of you takin’ such good care of us, Miss Somi,” Terry drawled. “See Joey? Ain't nothin’ to worry about.” With a chuckle, he clapped Joey's back and added, “An’ look! An Executive Suite for an Executive Chef.”

Joey grumbled something under his breath that might have been an apology, should one be so inclined to take it that way.

Somi made a few more notes on her keyboard, then asked, “How many room keys will you need?”

“Let's go with four. One for me, one for Joey, an’ a backup for the backup,” Terry said.

“Very well.” She set up their keys to the room, then set them in a small card holder and handed that off to Terry. “You're in room 3725. That's on floor thirty-seven.”

Terry let out a low whistle, “My oh my, seems we'll be up at the top then.”

“Almost! We're a forty story building.”

“Damn, you ain't afraid of heights, right Joey?”

Joey rolled his eyes, “No, I'm not.” He turned to look at the receptionist, then sighed. “And uh… look, sorry for snapping at you. Like he said, I'm just tired.”

She nodded at him. “Not to worry, sir. Your room is all ready for you, and I hope it's able to provide plenty of rest and relaxation for you during your stay with us.”

“Much obliged, ma'am, much obliged. C'mon Joey,” Terry said heading toward the elevator.

Once it was just the two of them alone and they were rising up to their room, Joey smirked. “Terrence?”

“That's Terry to you, Joseph.”

Joey snickered. “Yea, I suppose Terry suits you better anyways. Terrence sounds like some shmuck from Baltimore who does taxes for a living.”

“Hmph. And by the way, what was that back there? Surely you know better'n to yell at customer service, given how often we deal with that shit back at Bistro Huddy.”

He sighed. “It's been a long day, Terry. And I apologized anyway, so can you just drop it? I don't need to be scolded by you of all people.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that so far shit's been going well and we're getting along and I don't need you ruining that by being a tight-ass.”

“Oh, a tight-ass am I?”

“Just!” Joey inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump as he exhaled, trying not to get pissed off. He held up a hand and made a cutting gesture. “Just drop it, okay? I wasn't lying back there. I've been up since four in the fuckin’ morning and my back is killing me right now. So maybe I'm on a short fuse. I just need to take a quick nap or something before I say something we're both gonna regret.”

Terry had yet to reply by the time the elevator let them off on their floor, so Joey turned to look at him. The manager had his lips pursed as he scrutinized Joey, then after a moment he nodded and said, “Fine.”

As they were walking to their room, Joey said, “Executive Suite though, huh? Not too bad. Seems like we'll be living this weekend in the lap of luxury.”

“Lucky break I suppose. And we'll have a damn good view, this high up.”

As Terry swiped his keycard and they stepped into the room, Joey chuckled. “Damn right! And you know what? Dibs on the bed by the win… dow…”

Chapter Text

The room was immaculate. The soft beige hue of the walls gave the space a sense of comfort and warmth, which contrasted beautifully with the dark umber tones of the furniture. Against one wall was a massive seventy-five inch flatscreen, standing above a sleek walnut dresser. Two couches sitting around a moderately-sized coffee table occupied the space before it, the loveseats just large enough for two people to comfortably sit in them, though it'd be a bit of a squeeze to try and sleep on one.

Closer to the door was a small kitchenette. It featured a granite countertop with two stove burners, and more stained walnut cabinets for storing cookware and any foods they might want to have during their stay. The sink was a nice stainless steel for easy cleanup, and the small refrigerator came stocked with a few complimentary waters. Not the expansive kitchen of a restaurant by any means, but for two people and a five day stay, it would do.

Across from the kitchenette were two doors. One showed a small closet, and the other led toward a massive bathroom. Two sinks with plenty of counter space for both their needs beneath a large mirror, a medicine cabinet hidden behind another mirror on the side wall, multiple towel racks and a shelf for unused towels and extra tissue. A shower with long glass doors encapsulating the space, with a showerhead that had six different settings. The toilet even had a heated seat for crying out loud! Oh, but the kicker, the real winner of the room was the jacuzzi-style bath that took up about half of it.

Then of course, there was the view. A sliding screen door let out onto a small balcony. In the corner there was a round side table with twin metal chairs that had pale blue cushions to make them more tolerable. The sight was full of blue, blue, blue. Lake Michigan stretched out as far as the eye could see, so vast that it might as well be the pacific from back home, ‘cause there definitely wasn’t anything obstructing that seafoam horizon from meeting the cornflower of the afternoon skyline. It was breathtaking.

Of course, Joey didn't see any of that. No, his attention was captured by one clear, undeniable fact: there was only one bed.

Oh, it was a large bed, to be sure. A great big California king piled with pillows and soft blankets and crisp white silk sheets. Easily enough room for two full grown men to lay with their arms and legs spread wide and barely touch, if they wanted. It was pressed up against the far wall behind the ‘living room area’, and had easy access to the incredible view. Fact of the matter was, though, Joey had made sure that when they booked it was for separate beds, because the only person he ever wanted to sleep in the same bed with was whoever he was dating.

“...what the fuck is this?”

Terry came over from where he'd been checking out the rest of the hotel room and spied the sleeping arrangements. “Ah…”

“Ah? That's all you have to say? They completely fucked us over, Terry!” Joey groused. “That's it. Give me one of the room keys. I'm gonna go yell at anyone I can find until they fix this.”

He sighed and brought his ridiculous yellow suitcase over to the dresser. “I mean, you heard what she said up at the front, didn't you? They're completely booked out fer th’ weekend.”

“They can't switch us from a two bed to a one bed! That's bullshit,” Joey yelled. “Give me the fucking key, Terry!”

Terry turned to face him, annoyance and stubbornness written into every line of his face. “I'm not givin’ you nothin’ if yer just gonna go harrass some poor employee doin’ their job that didn't get no say in the matter.” He grunted as he lifted up his suitcase onto the dresser and yanked the top drawer open.

“You can't tell me you're fine with this,” he snapped.

Pausing from stowing his clothes, Terry turned to face him. “Frankly,” Terry said, “it don't bother me none. The bed's bigger'n anythin’ I’ve ever used before. We got upgraded to a nicer suite than what I'd been expectin’, an’ the view is spectacular. Now I'm sorry if bein’ in the same space as me is such a fuckin’ burden to ya. But I don't snore or kick or hog all the damn sheets, so unless you do, I don't see what the big fuckin’ deal is, Joey.”

“The big deal is!... is!” he cast around for something to yell about.

“Is?” Terry repeated, staring at his friend expectantly and crossing his arms over his chest.

“The only people I sleep with are the people I sleep with,” Joey finally settled on.

That earned him a head shake as Terry turned back to unpacking his suitcase. “It's five days. You'll live. I'll even let you have the side near the window like you wanted. An’ if you can't handle it, then sleep on the fuckin’ couch, you baby. There's two of ‘em.”

“It would fuck up my back! Why don't you sleep on the couch?”

“‘Cause I ain't the one takin’ issue with it.”

Seeing as Terry wasn't going to budge on the issue, Joey scowled and threw his suitcase into the closet, deciding that he could unpack it later. “This is bullshit,” he muttered.

Sighing, Terry grabbed something out of his suitcase and fumbled around with the envelope holding their keycards. He snaked one out and pocketed it, then tossed the pack over to Joey. “Here. You wanna go cause a scene an’ get us kicked outta th’ fuckin’ hotel before the convention, be my guest. Just call me an’ let me know so I can have a heads up on losin’ my job.” Then he stalked over the door as though to leave.

“Wait, where the fuck are you going?” Joey demanded.

“The pool! Might as well get somethin’ nice outta this trip before it's over,” Terry snapped, then slammed the door behind him, leaving Joey alone in the room.

“Dickhead,” Joey grumbled, needing to get the last word in on the matter. A part of him wanted to stomp right back to the front desk and demand a different room, but he could also acknowledge that doing so probably wouldn't solve anything. In fact with his luck, they'd probably get stuck on the bottom floor next to the hotel laundry rooms.

Kicking off his shoes, Joey stalked over toward the bed and stared at it, lips pulling down in a frown. It… was a big bed, he supposed. Even with as large as Joey was, there'd be plenty of space to stretch out and get comfortable without brushing up against Terry. He reached out to brush a hand over the comforter, rubbing the soft texture between his fingers.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed and tested its weight. The mattress sunk under him, though there was a bit of spring to it as well. Moderately plush, but firm enough that his back would have support. An ideal bed, actually. Which only made Joey more annoyed with the situation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, slumping back onto the mattress as a wave of exhaustion overtook him. It felt like laying on a cloud, and he hated that it did because it meant that Terry was right, and that this wasn’t so bad, and oh… maybe he should take a nap.

Before Joey knew it, he was leaning back on soft downy pillows and dragging off his jeans, tossing them to the floor as he loosely pulled the blanket over his waist. The thought that he'd have to apologize to Terry had barely begun to form before sleep overtook him.

It was the sound of a door closing that awoke him, groggy and bleary-eyed as he took in the sunlight filtering in through the large bay window. Joey squinted at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 5:38pm glared back at him in glowing red lights.

Knowing only one person could be coming into their suite, Joey sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He started to greet the other man, “Hey Ter—what the fuck?!”

Terry sighed as he hung his pool towel up in the closet to dry. “What is it now, Joey?”

Unable to form any coherent words, Joey gaped at his friend, who was only clad in his swim trunks. The manager had a toned, sparsely haired chest and a taut stomach. Perhaps not a six-pack, but still pretty fucking fit. His arms weren't as thickly muscled as Joey's own, but he was certainly not lacking in strength. Jesus fucking Christ, Terry was ripped.

“Why the fuck are you jacked?”

“Excuse me?” Terry asked incredulously.

“I mean…” Joey gestured toward the other man. “I thought you had like… a flabby middle-management body. Not some fuckin’ gym rat.”

“First of all, if yer exaggeratin’ to… embarrass me or whatever, this is a weird way to go about it. An’ second, why d’you care what I look like?”

“I don't!” Joey exclaimed, cheeks flaring at the thought. “I just don't fucking get it.”

Terry was shooting him a bemused look. “What is there to get? That I exercise?”

“Yes?” he replied, as if the very thought that Terry could do a sit-up was absurd.

“Oh, fuck you, bud,” Terry grumbled, pulling out a pair of slacks and a button-up from the dresser. “I'm gonna take a shower ‘n wash the chlorine off. Maybe when I get out y'all can get yer head outta yer ass ‘n stop being a dick.”

Joey watched his friend disappear into the luxurious bathroom, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the man he'd worked alongside for two decades was secretly buff.

This is just too weird, he thought, grabbing for his phone.

                    Sent 5:47 pm: i just learned the weirdest fucking thing

                    Received 5:47pm: ???

                    Sent 5:47 pm: terry is jacked

                    Received 5:47 pm: UMMMM?! What? Lol.

                    Sent: 5:48 pm: im not kidding amber

                    Sent 5:48 pm: hes like a couple crunches shy of a six pack

                    Received 5:48 pm: I'm sorry Joey, but there's no way I can believe you without proof.

                    Sent 5:48 pm: im not taking a fucking shirtless pic of terry for my girlfriend

                    Received 5:48 pm: Pleaaaaase? 🙏🙏

                    Sent 5:48 pm: no wtf

                    Received 5:49 pm: Literally no one will believe otherwise. I don’t even believe it!

                    Sent 5:49 pm: no ask him yourself

                    Received 5:49 pm: Absolutely not, I would die of embarrassment.

                    Sent 5:49 pm: then i guess youll never know

                    Sent 5:49 pm: its fucking weird tho

A few more messages came in that Joey was content to ignore, instead opting to take the time that Terry was in the shower to load up the other side of the dresser with his belongings. Recalling the nicer clothes Terry had picked out to wear after his shower, Joey set aside a pair of clean black jeans and a slate gray button-down. They'd probably go out somewhere nice for dinner, and he doubted that ripped jeans and an old Led Zeppelin shirt would be appropriate attire.

Shortly after he'd finished unpacking, the bathroom door opened to allow a wall of steam to flood out. “You didn't use up all the hot water, did you?” Joey called.

Terry came out dressed in his nice charcoal slacks and a wine-red dress shirt, lightly patting some cologne into his neck. “I was hardly in there for more'n ten minutes, gettin’ dressed ‘n all,” he retorted.

“Well, are you finished? ‘Cause I need to wash all the airport funk off of me.”

Rolling his eyes, Terry stepped away from the room and swept toward him with a mocking bow, “All yers. I'm gonna call ‘round a couple places ‘n get a reservation sorted somewhere. You in the mood fer anythin’?”

“Steak.”

“...right.”

Joey tried not to take too long in the shower, as he was sure there'd be plenty of time to luxuriate in it later in the weekend. It felt… awkward, using it right after Terry had been in it, though. Obviously something he'd have to get over sooner rather than later, given their current living situation. But… maybe after the shock of knowing Terry was built like a brick shithouse had worn off.

When he stepped out from behind the fogged up glass walls of the shower, he caught sight of his reflection in the—surprisingly still clear—mirror. Joey ran a hand down his large stomach, the soft, curly brown hair of his happy-trail clinging to his fingers. His weight had never really bothered him. In fact, most of the women he'd slept with—including Amber!—told him that they thought it was sexy and manly. He had broad shoulders, a well-defined chest, and arms like a blacksmith's; of course he was sexy, even if he didn't look like a lifeguard from Baywatch.

But Terry fucking did, and it made him feel… slightly, a tiny… teeny-tiny bit self-conscious. Joey scowled at his reflection and ran a hand along his scruffy jaw. He'd probably trim his growing beard back tomorrow morning before the events started. The chef wasn't really one to keep his face clean-shaven like Terry, preferring to leave at least a five o'clock shadow to hide some of the truly terrible acne scars he had on his cheeks from when he was a teenager. Fuck… the longer he stared at his features in the mirror, the more flaws and blemishes he found himself noticing, unwillingly comparing himself to the man in the other room.

“Stop being fucking ridiculous,” Joey muttered, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. That was when he noticed that he'd left his nice clothes in the other room, and he groaned. “Fucking… God damnit, of course.”

Cracking the door open, Joey called, “Hey man, I left my fucking clothes in there. So… yea. I'm gonna come get them.”

When he didn't immediately receive a response, Joey cautiously crept out of the bathroom, one hand holding the towel around his waist in a vice-grip so it wouldn't fall.

Terry was sitting on the bed with his back to him, but when Joey approached, he turned toward him, and Joey saw that the manager had been looking at his phone. Hazel eyes looked up at Joey, flashing with annoyance. “Joey, why the hell is Nicole texting me and beggin’ fer a shirtless selfie?” he asked tersely.

Joey froze, a guilty expression creeping onto his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grumbled, “God damnit, Amber.”

“Joey!”

“What!”

“What the fuck, man?”

“Look, it's not my fault,” he complained, momentarily forgetting that he was clad in only a towel. “You being fucking shredded just shocked the hell out of me, so of course I told Amber about it. And… and I guess she must still be with Bridgette, who probably told Nicole because they're best friends or whatever. And you know that Nicole has no shame and no filter, so…”

“Yer really tryin'a set a fuckin’ record for how fast someone can get on my last nerve.”

“Well what did you expect? Coming in here and looking like that.”

“Like what?!” Terry exploded, launching up from the bed and stalking over to Joey. He poked him roughly in the chest, “Now you fuckin’ listen to me, Cattaneo. You make any more observations about me or my person, do us both a fuckin’ favor ‘n keep ‘em to yerself, got it?”

“Yea,” Joey bit out.

“I'm serious. I don't need my Goddamn employees askin’ fer pictures like that. It's highly inappropriate, and I oughta fire her for it. Hell, I oughta fuckin' fire you for spreadin’ shit like that in the first place,” he growled.

Joey swallowed and looked down at Terry, a hint of uncertainty marring his demeanor. “You won't, right? Fire her? Or me?”

Terry inhaled sharply in frustration, held it, then shook his head as he exhaled. “No, I reckon I won't. But y'all will be gettin’ a write-up when we get back.”

He couldn't help the amused grin that curled his lips at the familiar proclamation. “I can live with that,” he replied.

Huffing, Terry shoved him toward the clothes he'd picked out for their evening. “Just get dressed and presentable. Our reservation is at seven thirty an’ we ain’t gonna be late fer it.”

“You got it, Boss.”

It was quick work to make himself ready for an evening out. He even combed and gelled his hair into a tousled, devil-may-care style. The cologne he'd packed was a smokey-cedar aroma with hints of pine. Natural, but not overwhelming. When he rounded the corner to rejoin Terry, however, the southerner gave him a quick once over and said, “Well, I'll admit it, you do clean up nice, Joey. Y'ain't gonna wear yer new hat, though?”

“Fuck no, after how long it took me to style my hair? Why don't you wear it?” he retorted.

Terry lofted a brow and strolled over to pick up the hat from where it was sitting on top of the dresser. “Maybe I will,” he replied, settling it over his thick black curls.

The image of Terry in a cowboy hat made his stomach swoop and roil, and Joey could feel his face heating. Fuck, but the man looked so natural and charming with it on. Quickly he stepped over and yanked it off of his head, tossing it on his own.

“NevermindIchangedmymind,” he blurted, stepping away to grab his wallet, keys, phone, and other necessities.

“Uhh, alright?”

Swallowing, Joey turned a brittle smile toward his friend. Friend. “Come on, you said it yourself, we don’t want to miss our reservation, right?”

Terry eyed Joey with a bit of trepidation, then shrugged. “Yea, I'll order us a taxi.”