Short Stories [Man on Man]

Snowed In [6]

As he watched The Hobbit, Amos listened with half an ear as Sutton made something or other in the kitchen. The man had pushed him down onto the couch, told him to wait, and then messed around in there. Amos looked at the clock. It was about forty-five minutes since then.  

"You almost done in there?" he called.  

"Yeah, yeah. Just have some patience." 

A loud crash sounded in the kitchen then, followed by a curse, but Sutton had told him not to move, so he wouldn't. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the pillow on the couch, inhaled the scent of a little bit Sutton and a little bit Milly, and waited.  

"Okay! Food's ready."  

Amos shot off the couch. Something smelled good, his stomach was grumbling, and his mouth watered as soon as he set foot into the kitchen. The table was already set, with beers on the table, and a big pot of whatever-Sutton-had-spent-slaving-over-for-almost-an-hour right in the center.  

"Looks good," he said before sitting down.  

Sutton smiled and sat down across from him. "Do you know what it is?" 

"Nope." 

"Take a guess." 

He looked into the pot, saw some noodles, an odd variety of meat and what looked like cheese, and shook his head. "I don't know. What?" 

"Well," he said, "it's some type of pasta. I think I got the recipe right. Orechetti. Orecchietta. Something like that. I kinda had to improvise on the cheese and the right salt, though. But it should be fine." 

Amos took his plate, scooped up as much that would fill the empty space, and dug in. He didn't know what the hell "Orechetti. Orecchietta. Something like that." was, but he was suddenly glad he'd never tried it before. Because it...was not the best. Maybe it was all the salt that stuck to his tongue or some kind of weird combination of meats, but it was strange, at best.  

He kept that smile on his face, though, and lifted the fork up for another bite, stopping however once he saw the look on Amos's face. He looked like he'd just eaten one of those sour drops that Amos used to have all the time as a child.  

"I...I don't know what happened. I coulda sworn this was how-" He set his fork down and took a long pull on his beer. "Do you like it?" 

"Yeah." 

"You're lying." 

"I mean, it's okay, but..." He shrugged. 

"Here, let's just give it to MIlly. She's gotta like it, right?" 

"Yeah. She'll eat just about anything." 

He took his plate, set it down onto the floor, and told Milly it was okay. She sniffed at that plate with that big, wet nose of hers, took a tentative little lick, and turned her head, looking at Amos as if asking why in the world he would feed her such a thing.  

Then they both laughed. Sutton, for some reason, found it hilarious, and his big, bellowing laugh filled the kitchen. Amos couldn't help himself, either. The look of pure amusement on the man's face was enough to bring tears to his eyes and for him to laugh so hard that his stomach began to hurt.  

"Oh, no. C'mere, girl." Sutton clapped his hands, and Milly went to him. "I'm so sorry, pretty girl." 

"Oh, so you'll apologize to her, but not me? Sutton Dailey," he scolded, playfully.  

"Hey, I worked hard on something I thought you'd like. You should be thanking me right now, Amos Smith." 

"Fine. Thank you. But can we make something else? I'm starving."