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The moment Gale walks through the door, he can tell something is off. He tosses his keys into their hand-painted dish with a clatter. It’s quiet. Too quiet.
Typically, almost the second he comes home, John is there like an overexcited puppy, ready to talk about his day. When he’s not, it’s a bad sign. It means he’s either drunk on the sofa or completely despondent and depressed in bed– neither of which being ideal. Things have been getting slightly better– at least, it seems he’s had more good days than bad recently– but Gale can’t help worrying all the same. He really does hate to see John sad.
“John?” He calls tentatively. “You here?”
“Yeah- shit- I’m- ow.” There’s a load of cursing and a thud from the direction of the kitchen. The apartment, Gale realises, smells a bit off. Tangy, almost.
John sits in the middle of the kitchen, legs crossed, holding a knife and pumpkin, of all things. The top has been roughly cut off and tossed aside somewhere. All across the floor— the fairly nice, recently cleaned wood floor— are sticky, frankly disgusting pumpkin innards.
Generally, Gale considers himself fairly laid-back about the upkeep of their little apartment, but the one thing he will not negotiate about is his kitchen. Seeing it in such a state, after only an hour away, almost makes something shrivel and die within him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gale sighs.
John waves the knife around, as though that explains everything. “Carvin’.”
“And… and you didn’t think to, I don’t know, put paper down first or somethin’?”
“... Y’know, that mighta been a good idea.”
Gale takes a moment to consider his next words. It is good to see John engaging in some sort of hobby, certainly, but internally he’s wincing that it had to be the messiest activity he could possibly have chosen. “So. Why are we doing this?”
“I went over to Bianca’s yesterday,” John says cheerfully, stabbing the pumpkin with a bit more force than strictly necessary. “She had a buncha them. Seemed like a fun idea for autumn.”
“Right.” Gale pinches the bridge of his nose. “This’ll be a bitch to clean up, y’know.”
“Naw. It’s not that bad.” John yanks out another handful of pumpkin guts and drops them unceremoniously on the floor amongst the rest.
“Are you serious? Not that bad? It looks like the damn thing exploded!”
John pauses for a moment, seeming to notice the carnage around him for the first time. “Oh. Yeah. Wow.” He sets the knife down.
“Not to mention, that looks awful.” Gale gestures at John’s work.
“Does not!” He protests, then actually looks at the crooked face half-carved into the thing. “I mean, maybe it needs a bit’a work, but… hm. Bianca’s looked better.”
“Probably because she actually knows what she’s doing.” Gale rolls his eyes dramatically, and yet he can’t help but be just a bit charmed. Leave it to John Egan to make a complete mess, but still somehow be entirely adorable doing it. “If you think I’m helping you clean this disaster, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Empty threat.”
“Absolutely not an empty threat. I’m serious this time, John.”
“Are not.”
“Am so.”
John pouts.
“You gotta clean up your own messes, Egan. Seriously.”
“Do I, now?” He can see the exact second the idea enters John’s head. His blue eyes glint mischievously, and Gale doesn’t have time to fully process what’s happening before John is digging into the pumpkin and hurling a fistful of goop at him. It hits him square in the forehead. “Are you- are you serious? Ugh, John, it’s in my hair! I- Oh, don’t you dare-!”
John is already going for another handful of the stuff, grinning. “Whaaaaaat?” He says innocently.
“If that’s how you wanna-” Gale wipes the pumpkin guts off his face and throws them right back at John, who looks positively delighted as it splats against his chest. He laughs so hard he topples over, crushing the pumpkin beneath him.
“Aw, shit!”
“You idiot,” Gale snickers. And then he’s going down too, John pulling his arm so they’re both in a heap on the floor.
They both sit in silence for half a second– then their eyes meet, and they burst into laughter. Gale smears chunks of the stuff into John’s unruly curls, who cackles and tries to wriggle away. “Oh, no. You wanted a pumpkin fight, you’re gettin’ a pumpkin fight!” Gale grabs him by the waist and pulls him back.
It doesn’t take long for both of them to be completely covered in the remnants of what had been, admittedly, a shittily-carved pumpkin. Thankfully, John doesn’t seem especially broken up about his project being ruined.
When Gale pulls him in for a sticky, pumpkin-flavoured kiss, he thinks he can just get another one tomorrow.