Joel flushes faintly and squirms with pleasure, looking down at his plate before he takes a bite and yes, it's definitely good, he's always been a fairly good cook, but the fact that Spencer seems to be enjoying it so much makes him happier than he thought possible. It's just that doing anything for Spencer makes him happy. Any reason to make Spencer smile is a good one and any time he accomplishes the task, he feels especially pleased with himself in ways he'd never known he would ever feel. It's a strange thought for him, doing something specifically for someone else. He's never been a particularly generous person, he's never cared much for worrying about what other people think or going out of his way to make them happy, but this is so different. Everything with Spencer is different.
"It does feel right," he agrees and even when he'd been so nervous he thought he might throw up, even when the very thought of touching Spencer was enough to send a thrill through him, even when he considered rubbing the tip of his finger along the outer edge of Spencer's hand to be the most daring thing he was capable of, it had felt right. He's never been one to stray from his comfort zone, but even with sweating palms and a racing heart and a throat so dry he would swear it was made of sandpaper, even terrified and uncomfortable, it had felt right.
"And if all I have to do is cook to keep you this happy, that's easy," he teases a second later, pointing at Spencer with his fork. "I'm good at cooking. And if there's anything else you want kept on the table when it comes to pleasing you, just... let me know." He's secretly a little thrilled that he's managed to say something like that when he's usually so poor at coming up with anything flirtatious or suggestive. He wants to be able to flirt openly with Spencer, to tease him when they're in public together, especially when Spencer is so much better at it than he would have thought, but it's just not his strong point. When he gets it right, like he thinks he did just now, he can't help but be pleased and just a little proud of himself, which he's sure is evident in his expression that he's doing a poor job of hiding.
"On the table," he repeats, then laughs to himself, far too pleased by his own innuendo. "It's a good, sturdy table."
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"It does feel right," he agrees and even when he'd been so nervous he thought he might throw up, even when the very thought of touching Spencer was enough to send a thrill through him, even when he considered rubbing the tip of his finger along the outer edge of Spencer's hand to be the most daring thing he was capable of, it had felt right. He's never been one to stray from his comfort zone, but even with sweating palms and a racing heart and a throat so dry he would swear it was made of sandpaper, even terrified and uncomfortable, it had felt right.
"And if all I have to do is cook to keep you this happy, that's easy," he teases a second later, pointing at Spencer with his fork. "I'm good at cooking. And if there's anything else you want kept on the table when it comes to pleasing you, just... let me know." He's secretly a little thrilled that he's managed to say something like that when he's usually so poor at coming up with anything flirtatious or suggestive. He wants to be able to flirt openly with Spencer, to tease him when they're in public together, especially when Spencer is so much better at it than he would have thought, but it's just not his strong point. When he gets it right, like he thinks he did just now, he can't help but be pleased and just a little proud of himself, which he's sure is evident in his expression that he's doing a poor job of hiding.
"On the table," he repeats, then laughs to himself, far too pleased by his own innuendo. "It's a good, sturdy table."