Work Text:
Noah looked over his shoulder into the kitchen. He absently scratched Red’s head as he kept an eye on Dan. His boyfriend’s creased brow and loud sighs gave him away. He wanted Noah to say something. Had wanted him to for awhile. Noah decided to put Dan out of his misery.
“How’s it going over there, Daniel?” Noah asked cheerily, turning all the way around on the couch and pulling himself up to his knees.
“Fine. It’s fine.” Followed by another loud huff of air.
“We still on track for dinner tonight? I’m happy to help if you need it?” Noah knew he shouldn’t take such pleasure in someone as smart and competent as Daniel Levy struggling with an instruction manual, but he did. He really did.
Dan slammed his hands down on the butcher-block island and stood up off his stool. The banging caused Redmond to sit up and poke his head over the back of the couch, mimicking Noah’s stance.
“It’s an Instant Pot! Millions have been sold, which means millions of people are successfully using them and making Crack Chicken for their boyfriends! Which means I should be able to do that, too. I deal with words for a living. Why is reading and understanding this manual so hard?”
The last question came out as a whine, and Noah knew the gig was up. It was the weekend, and they were supposed to be relaxing.
Noah hauled himself off the couch and padded into the kitchen. Dan was leaning over the manual, shoulders hunched and eyes closed. Noah came up behind Dan, leaning his chest against Dan’s back. Dan’s immediate response was to lean back into Noah, letting out a silent sigh as Noah’s arms reached around him, meeting at his chest and pinning Dan’s arms close to his sides.
Acting as a weighted blanket, Noah hooked his chin over Dan’s shoulder and kissed his cheek before whispering, “We could work on this together, you know. Everything goes more smoothly when we do it together.” He followed up with another kiss to his cheek, which slid into a more serious kiss when Dan turned his head so their lips could slot together.
“Ok,” Dan agreed softly, “I think that would be good. Even though it’s supposed to be a celebration dinner for you, for your new show.”
Noah squeezed Dan tightly and stepped back. “It’s still a celebration if we cook together. Truly. Come on, let’s do this.”
An hour, a half-bottle of wine, and twelve kisses later, Dan and Noah enjoyed a big green salad along with heaping bowls of Crack Chicken hot out of the Instant Pot, followed up by brownie ice cream sundaes and rich, dark coffee.
It was an hour after that when they enjoyed kisses that grew more heated the closer they got to the bedroom. Noah couldn’t begin to imagine a better celebration for a new job—or any other occasion.