A New Life Under Desert Skies

Chapter 6: Dinner

Clint stripped the sweaty, cumin-scented work clothes from his tired body and observed himself in the mirror. "You know, a more active job has done you a few favors already," he said to his reflection. The muscles in his chest had begun to tone up from carrying heavy trays of dirty dishes, though it also sported a growing half-moon bruise from landing on one of the glasses.

The sight of the purple blemish brought all the negative emotions of the day rushing back. What the hell had happened to make his old friend so bitter? Dominic had never treated anyone like that back when they were kids. Especially not him.

Dwelling on it wouldn't do him any favors, though. So he jumped in the shower, washing quickly to avoid arriving and Eric and Joey's apartment smelling like an old taco. He slid into a pair of sweatpants and an old Nirvana band tee. That should be acceptable for a quiet evening with guy friends, right?

It seemed to pass the vibe check. Eric grinned when he opened the door and saw Clint standing on the other side. "Oh good, you didn't bail on us. I was just telling Joey he might need to go over and extract you from your apartment."

"I just wanted to make sure I didn't smell like the inside of a Taco Bell bag," Clint laughed while admiring Eric's bare chest. His abs and pectorals told a story of long workout sessions, as did the biceps that rose like rolling hills on his upper arms. He, too, must have just gotten out of the shower because his hair still stuck up in every direction from being toweled. Gym shorts hung loosely around his thighs, but left his chiseled calves open for free viewing.

Clint liked the sight, but as far as he knew, Eric was straight.

"We definitely appreciate shampoo over the Bell," Joey laughed from the kitchen. He, too, wore only shorts. While he wasn't as muscular as Eric, the dark hair on his chest gave Joey definite bonus points. As did the fact that Joey's shorts were undoubtedly two sizes smaller than they should have been, and hugged his butt like a second skin.

Clint's bare feet made no sound as he padded inside and glanced around his neighbors' apartment. It was decorated very simply, mostly containing a few sports posters and a large sofa in front of a massive TV. "Seems I missed the 'no shirt' memo," he said, joining Joey in the kitchen.

"Not too late to join us," Joey replied with a wink. "I can't speak for Eric, but I know I certainly wouldn't mind."

Clint pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it on the back of the couch. "Well, I've never been one to overdress for the occasion." Joey wolf-whistled and Clint felt his ears begin to burn, but he did his best to keep his face from showing any embarrassment.

"We are making spaghetti tonight. It's super easy, so you should be able to make it on your own after tonight," Eric cut in. "Figure I'll let you actually do it, and just tell you what to do." He gestured to the package of ground beef, then to the frying pan on the stove. "First thing, just dump the whole package of beef into the pan. Break it up and cook it until it's brown all the way through."

Over the next fifteen minutes, the trio cooked, laughed, and just existed together. It was a comfortable feeling that Clint hadn't had in a long, long time. Even his wife had never made him feel as accepted as the residents of apartment 6A did.

Clint joined Joey and Eric on the couch with a generous plate of spaghetti flanked by two slices of garlic bread. "Thanks for dinner, guys. This is definitely better than takeout or something out of the freezer."

"Told you so," Joey teased, licking a bit of sauce from his top lip. "Do you have to go to bed at a decent hour tonight? Eric and I have tomorrow off, so we were debating watching a movie or two. You're welcome to join us."

After a moment of consideration and another bite of spaghetti, Clint nodded. "I could probably stay for a while. I've got tomorrow off as well. All I really planned to do was hit up the bank to deposit my check, wait for the internet guy to show up, and then watch TV."

"Horror movies alright? We wanted some Conjuring nostalgia." Joey looked at Clint excitedly. Eric, on Clint's other side, reached across and wiped a bit of sauce off Joey's nose.

"I've...actually never watched it," Clint admitted.

His new friends pulled back in mock horror. Eric shook his head and said, "Well you obviously have to stay, then. But be warned, Joey is a baby and he'll probably try to hold your hand during the scary parts."

"I only do that because you let me, Eric," Joey grumbled, though his glittering eyes gave away the game. Eric and Clint began to laugh, ending the conversation until everyone had finished their dinner.

Clint put his plate in the sink, snagged a soda from the fridge, and returned to the couch. His fingers had gripped the tab when he realized he might be getting a little too comfortable for a first visit. "Hey, uh. I hope you don't mind me raiding the fridge for a soda?" He held it up, and both of his friends gestured for him to take it.

While Eric rummaged around the kitchen for snacks, Joey queued up the movie and pulled the largest blanket Clint had ever seen out of the ottoman. Soon the trio were wrapped up under said blanket in the dark, with Clint in the middle holding the bowl of popcorn. Joey and Eric rested against the arms of the couch, leaving a small amount of empty space between themselves and Clint.

But that didn't last long. Within twenty minutes, Joey had unfolded himself and draped one leg over Clint's knee. His arm rested on Clint's thigh above the blanket for easier access to the popcorn. And Clint made no move to stop the physical contact.

Joey did, indeed, reach for Clint's hand during the scary parts. But he always took it back when they were over, putting it next to the popcorn. All the day's stress melted away and by the end of the movie, Clint knew he would be spending much more time in apartment 6A.