Isn't She Lovely | Impractical Jokers

6:00

Dylan and Sal were kissing and at this point neither could tell who initiated it. Sal had one hand still on his own thigh covered by Dylan's and the other was on the side of their neck, rubbing his thumb in slow circles under their jaw.

Dylan's spare hand was on Sal's chest. They pushed him lightly to lay back and Dylan straddled his hips. They pinned Sal's hands above his head with one hand.

"I wanna make you feel beautiful," they whispered and trailed kisses down his neck. Dylan lifted his shirt, exposing his scarred belly.

Sal squirmed in embrassment; afraid they'd change their mind. Dylan placed a kiss on each one and lightly traced a finger along the big one around his tummy. Sal's stomach started shaking and Dylan looked up to see he was crying.

"Oh my god, no!" Dylan said panicked. "I'm so sorry, was this not okay?" They frantically pulled his shirt back down.

Sal sat up and pressed his lips against Dylan's. A tear slid down his cheek and onto the corners of their connected mouths. "I'm crying because I never thought someone would treat me like you treat me," he whispered. "I'm so fucking happy."

Dylan smiled and kissed Sal's forehead before hugging him. "Good," they said, wiping his tears. "Now let's get you something to eat." Dylan stood and held out their hand. Sal pulled down his shirt, took their hand, and followed Dylan into the kitchen.

They opened the fridge and let him look inside.

"You have six different brands of hot sauce," Sal said plainly.

Dylan shrugged. "They all taste different, I can't choose a favorite."

Sal laughed and kept looking. He squinted his eyes and bent lower for a long moment.

"There's more stuff in the cupboard," Dylan piped up, sensing Sal hadn't found anything he wanted. He moved over and opened the cabinets immediately to the right of the fridge and revealed three shelves full of assorted alcohol.

"Yes," Sal breathed and reached for a bottle.

"No." Dylan smacked Sal's hand away and closed the doors. "Over here," they said and pointed to a row of cabinets on the other side of the kitchen.

Dylan opened what they'd deemed Lipton Landing: The Soup Cupboard. Several varieties of soup cans filled every cubic inch of the cabinet, organized by size, brand, flavor, and type.

Sal didn't know whether to laugh or be impressed.

"Am I hallucinating or do you have a fuck ton of soup in here?" he said.

"I take my soup seriously."

"Youre so extra." Sal took a can of Progresso Chunky Beef Stew. "Where are your pots?"

Dylan shook their head. "I'm cooking it for you, go back to the living room." With a quick kiss on the cheek, Dylan turned on the stove and shooed Sal out of the room.

Dylan finished heating up the soup and put it in a round bowl with a moose printed on the side. They carried it out to the living room and found Sal asleep on the couch. Dylan put the soup next to the Powerade on the coffee table and sat in the space between Sal's chest and knees.

"Sal," they whispered. "Wake up, you gotta eat."

Sal, clearly awake at this point but faking being asleep, made a quiet snoring noise.

"Sal, your soup," Dylan said in slightly-above normal speaking volume.

Sal laughed and opened his eyes. "You take care of me," he said softly.