topino | (no subject)

Nicky huffs a laugh when Joe starts preening, but he's the one who's checking him out, so he can't exactly blame him. Shaking his head, he adjusts his apron a little, stomach tumbling with butterflies for how close Joe is, turning towards him and giving him a rare grin for the offer of help.

"You can pour us some wine," he says, reaching for the bread to start slicing it, now that dessert is ready and chilling in the fridge. "I want you to relax, enjoy yourself. Give me a moment to get this in the oven, and I'll give you a tour."

It's a lovely smile and Joe is very weak for it, smiling back helplessly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I can do that," he agrees when Nicky asks him to pour the wine and relax. He removes his jacket and goes to hang it in the hall, then comes back to uncork the bottle and pour two glasses, letting the wine breathe. He sits at the table while Nicky finishes, looking at ease but watchful, his eyes following Nicky around the kitchen. "How was your week, then?" he inquires, his tone fond.

There's something very normal about all this and it has Nicky wondering when it was, the last time he had a date or a boyfriend or a partner of any kind who sat at the table and asks him how his week went. His mind jumps forward with that, leaping to thoughts of Joe in his socks and boxers, making coffee in this kitchen, of reading the paper together, of...

No, Nicky. It's a second date. You are not allowed to get this far in, not yet.

"I think it went well. I had a very nice correspondence with a very picky artist after my review went out about his exhibit, on Tuesday," he teases, giving Joe an amused look. "And? Did you send your sketches to your agent? What did he say?"

Meanwhile, Joe is sitting at the small table watching Nicky cook and trying to tell his heart to stop beating so hard in his chest. He can't be falling so hard for a man he literally met one week ago. Even for an incurable romantic like Joe, that is ridiculously fast.

"I'm sure that artist made some great points to get you to see the error of your ways," Joe taunts, grinning. The question makes him arch his eyebrows and rub his forehead, chuckling. "Ah. Well, see for yourself." He takes out his phone and brings up the text chain he's been sharing with Booker, handing it to Nicky.

Booker Tues. 3:35pm
I agree, they are very good. I think you could draw from this inspiration to make a whole series of paintings, if the model is willing to sit for you again.

Booker Tues. 3:36pm
You know, his face reminds me a little of that art critic you don't like. The one you argued with last week, Di Genova.

Booker Wed. 5:45pm
Joe?

Booker Wed. 5:50pm
JOE NO

Nicky's in his element in the kitchen. He's put on light music and he sways to it, brushing the bruschetta with olive oil and garlic, before topping it, backing up to get it into the oven before he turns to take Joe's phone to read the texts.

He smirks, smug as always, but his eyes do land on the comment about 'art critic you don't like'.

Nicky sighs, ever the melodramatic asshole. "What a shame. I'm right, but now you'll have to leave without having any lasagna," he says, with absolutely no intention of actually kicking Joe out. "Seeing as you don't like me at all," he drawls, because people don't go to dinner at someone's home if they don't like them.

And, he's fairly sure, they also don't let themselves be kissed like Nicky did last week. "I got you a present, you know. And now I find out that you have been ... come se dice in inglese...talking shit about me?"

Nicky is lovely to watch like this, relaxed but focused, so obviously pleased to have Joe around. Joe grins when Nicky sighs melodramatically, fully understanding that he doesn't mean any of it but delighted to play this game nonetheless.

He gasps, putting a hand over his heart. "Nicky, I would never! Please, I like you." He gets his phone back and takes Nicky's hand in his, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of it. "I like you a lot, I promise, please give me the lasagna." His eyes are beseeching but he only manages to bite down his grin for a second before beaming up to Nicky.

"I did talk shit about you," he admits. "I called Booker at some point between your third and fourth email, I think, and ranted for a good half an hour. He stopped listening pretty quickly but he remembered your name, apparently." Joe sits up, suddenly curious. "You got me a present?"

Luckily, Nicky has no plans to kick Joe out of his apartment. Instead, he picks up the glass of wine, even as he's having his hand kissed, sipping it as he considers everything Joe is bringing to the table. "Well," he draws out, "I guess it wouldn't be right to kick you out when I've spent all day preparing," he reasons.

"You can stay," he allows, as if it's ever been in question, gesturing with his head for Joe to follow him. "Of course I bought you a present, I said I would," he says defensively, heading into the living area to hand Joe a bag that contains a very short little silky red robe, deep burgundy, which he thinks will look excellent on Joe.

"I'm glad to hear your agent thinks this is a bad idea," he says wryly. "Do you have a history of seducing critics, maybe?"

"It wouldn't be right at all," Joe agrees, amused. He lets go of Nicky's hand so he can sip from his wine too, humming when he finds it strong and flavorful. He smiles, getting up to follow Nicky to the living room, taking his glass with him.

"Did you?" he inquires, a little puzzled. He doesn't remember Nicky promising him a gift. He shakes his head at the question, amused that Nicky even has to ask. "Oh, yes, I have seduced many critics. How do you think I get such good reviews?" he teases, giving Nicky a wink. "I didn't tell Booker we'd met and... made up, I suppose. He still thinks I dislike you, which is why he's not convinced this is a good idea." And Joe can't blame him, really.

He takes the bag, his eyebrows arching. Oh, right. And there he'd been, thinking the whole robe thing was a joke. He laughs, taking it out of the bag carefully. "Nice color," he compliments, unfolding the silky fabric and finding it very short. Well, fair is fair. He had Nicky wear a robe last week, perhaps it's his turn. He holds up the silky robe to his broad chest, letting Nicky imagine him in it. "Do you want me to put it on now," he challenges, arching an eyebrow, "or later?"

It's an unfairly skimpy thing, but then, Nicky's the one who bought it, so he can only be mad at himself. "I wouldn't put it on now. The lasagna and bruschetta will be very warm out of the oven and I can't imagine that it would feel very good on your bare skin," he says, stepping closer to slide his fingers over the silk.

Speaking of dinner, it's serving as a good distraction. He glances over his shoulder, seeing the timer ticking down. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll go pull everything out and let it rest for a few minutes so you don't burn yourself."

From the kitchen, not so far, he can still speak to Joe, thankfully. "So he thinks that it's a bad idea because he thinks you'll ruin me? Or the other way around, maybe?"

Joe doesn't mind how skimpy the robe is. He knows he has enough confidence to pull it off, both in his body and in his masculinity. Nicky wants to see him in nothing but a very short burgundy silk robe? He'll make sure Nicky gets a good show.

"True," Joe grants, setting the robe on the back of the couch carefully. "Later, then." He gives Nicky a smile and takes a sip from his wine, wandering over to the bookshelves to see what Nicky likes to read. There is a... surprising number of romance novels, which is not something Joe was expecting.

"I'm not sure," Joe calls back, pulling a book out to read the back cover. "He might think I'll get my heart broken. Or that I'll break yours and your reviews will get even harsher." His eyebrows arches as he reads on. "Or that this is a weird angry sex thing, maybe."

"Later," Nicky agrees, his eyes intent on Joe's body. He'd been very good about putting this off and seeing if his feelings were real, only it's a week later and even though they bickered via email, Nicky finds himself just as interested in Joe as before.

Seeing him move around his home in the candlelight is only serving to increase those desires.

"I am somewhat harsh with my reviews when I'm wronged," he admits, reaching for a pair of oven mitts to pull out dinner. "So he is not wrong." The heat from the oven flushes his cheeks, makes them go red as he has to push his hair back from his face, fingers brushing over his silver hooped earrings as he does. "Dinner's ready," he calls him back to the table. "I hope you're famished."

Joe just grins back, his eyes dark as he lets them wander on Nicky's body. Nicky has been checking him out a lot since he arrived, so he feels it's only fair he lets himself look too. Especially when Nicky turns around to go back to the kitchen.

"I don't plan on wronging you, Nicolo," Joe calls back and he sounds earnest before Nicky can even catch a look of his face, his gaze direct. "Maybe it won't work between us, maybe we'll argue, but that much I can promise." Joe can be petty too, as demonstrated by some of his e-mails, but when he gives his heart, he always plays fair.

The flush on Nicky's cheek is delicious and Joe wants to lean in and take his face in his hands to feel the heat there. He also wants to catch one of Nicky's earrings between his lips and see if the silver will be hot or cold against his tongue.

He's aware that Nicky has worked hard on dinner and he won't ruin it still, his eyes dark as he nods. "I am," he answers, his voice low. For more than just Nicky's cooking, though that's what he'll have right now.

"I hope we'll argue a little," Nicky confesses, serving the food on trivets on the table, cautious to keep it just out of reach so Joe doesn't burn himself. "I think I've started to like arguing with you, a little," he confesses, eyes bright as he makes his confession.

He doubts Joe will find that hard to believe, given how eagerly he'd replied to all of Joe's criticisms with arguments of his own. He can only imagine what that spark will be like when he and Joe finally tumble over the edge they've been hovering precariously on.

His eyes never leave Joe as he serves him the bruschetta and a generous portion of the lasagna, made with eggplant and a homemade tomato sauce he'd frozen months ago. "You look very handsome tonight," he praises. "I'm almost not sure I want you in that robe, after you went to such trouble to look so good."

That makes Joe laugh and he leans back in his chair, grinning toothily. "I think you can count on that," he says, his eyes bright with amusement. "I've enjoyed it too. Your responses to my emails were always so infuriatingly clever." He watches Nicky put more and more food onto his plate, his grin growing sly. "But if I feel like we're losing the spark, I'll be sure to send you a confrontational email."

He picks up his fork, his mouth watering at how good the food smell. "This looks incredible," he says, and then pauses when Nicky earnestly tells him that he looks very handsome. The look on Joe's face softens and he puffs his chest out a little, obviously pleased. "Thank you. I did make an effort."

He waits for Nicky to sit down before he can start eating, politely. "When you first came to talk to me at the Gallery, did you notice that it took me a full ten seconds to react to the fact that you'd just straight up started insulting me?" He smiles at the memory. "That was me being completely blindsided by how attractive you were." He can admit to this much, if they're being honest.

"I had to spend a lot of time being that clever to avoid you eviscerating me with your words," he admits, because Joe is wildly intelligent and clearly very cultured. Nicky might have put himself out there in the open, to be cut down, if he didn't take his time perfecting each insult.

He still thinks, now that he's met him, that sometimes he relies on the lazy insult, only because he's seen how handsome he is, and maybe his insults have grown a little more school-like.

"I don't even remember what I wore that evening, but I did know I wanted to look good," he admits. "I looked up a picture of you online," Nicky confesses, "and while I was still irritated with you, I knew I couldn't show up and look less than my best, not when you look so..." He gestures to Joe, as if that's going to say everything.

Joe was ruthless in his responses, in their initial exchange. He doesn't think he would be quite as mean knowing what he knows now, but he can and will gladly debate anything he disagrees with. "Exactly," he agrees, smiling. He too, had picked each word carefully to avoid displaying any weakness Nicky could take advantage of to debunk his arguments.

"You wore a crisp white shirt and a blue blazer." Yes, Joe remembers very well. "The lapels were darker, and a little shiny. It was a good look." He grins. "Jeans and sneakers. Like you'd tried, but not too hard."

He tilts his head to the side, amused by the revelation. "You had me at a disadvantage," he points out. "I googled you, and nothing came up." He considers Nicky carefully, his head tilted to the side. "When you came to the Gallery, did you plan on trying to seduce me?" He's curious to know whether Nicky's abrasive approach was premeditated, or if it was just what had ended up happening.

It takes Nicky a moment to think about the outfit, but once he does, he nods with a pleased smile. "It's one of the few good pieces of clothes I have," he admits, given that he's currently at dinner in a too-big fuzzy sweater, still wearing his apron.

The idea that he went to seduce Joe is a touch laughable. "Seduce you?" he echoes with disbelief. "I wanted to see in person what you were like," he admits, "the sketches you sent me got me very hot and bothered, but I didn't know if we would have a connection once we met."

"Besides," he says, eyes skimming over Joe's body, "I still stand by my initial assessment from that night. You're exaggerating," he accuses, poking his fork at Joe, before digging into the lasagna.

"I like this too," Joe volunteers, gesturing at Nicky's soft sweater. He doesn't mind the apron, even. It makes Nicky look domestic, and Joe appreciates that.

Nicky's disbelief makes Joe laugh, his eyes bright with amusement. "Well, a man can hope," he argues, arching an eyebrow at the mention of the sketches getting Nicky very hot and bothered. "That was the point," he admits, easily. "Very reckless, considering I had no idea what you would be like." He doesn't regret chancing it though, obviously.

He hums, leaning his chin on his hand when Nicky points at him and accuses him of flattering himself in his art again, smirking a little. "Well, I'll guess you'll find out very soon," he taunts, sounding quietly confident.

He starts on his lasagna too, taking his time to chew and savor it before he nods. "This is incredible." He bites into the bruschetta with a soft hum, appreciative. "Are you turning this into a competition, Nicolo? I think you might be winning, I'll have to try harder next time."

"I do keep a very low profile online," Nicky admits, and he's glad for it. He wouldn't have wanted Joe to only contact him and invite him to the gallery for his looks alone. It means so much more that he'd done so sight-unseen, taking a chance on Nicky as he had.

At Joe's promise, his heart beats loudly against his chest, at the thought of seeing Joe without his clothes on. He desperately wants that, and has ever since he sent those first few sketches, and is hoping now that a few weeks is plenty of time before it can happen.

"You're praising me for making Italian food, which I've known how to do since I was a child," he says dismissively. "I'm nothing to write home about for other foods, I promise."

Though Nicky is very attractive and Joe will readily admit that, he wouldn't have invited him at the Gallery for that reason alone. It had been his sharp mind and his confrontational words, that had made Joe eager to meet him and debate in person.

Joe chuckles, giving a small shrug. "I made you Shakshuka when I came to see you, so we both played into our strengths here. Perhaps next time we can try cooking something we never have, together." He would like that, following a recipe with Nicky in the kitchen, seeing if they can make it good.

He takes a sip from his wine, eating his lasagna with obvious pleasure. "So. I didn't peg you for a romance novel enthusiast," he teases, gently. He's not making fun of Nicky; the idea that this harsh man has a soft heart is very appealing to Joe.

"That you did," Nicky agrees, his whole face blossoming with warmth as he remembers that meal and how it had tasted so delicious, cooked from Joe's heart the way he had. It tickles him to know that Joe had been trying to impress him, too.

He cuts his pasta with his fork, eyes going a touch wider when Joe brings up the romance novels. He doesn't have any others on his shelf other than the ones he writes under his pen name, and he coughs a little on his wine when Joe brings it up.

"Are you one?" he asks back, trying to neatly avoid the question.

Joe tilts his head to the side, considering Nicky's reaction curiously. "Not really," he answers, easily. "I like a good love story in films or in TV shows." As Nicky might have noticed, Joe is a bit of a romantic. "But I don't necessarily look for romance novels. A lot of them are poorly written too, in my experience."

He smiles. "The author you have on your shelves still, my sister loves him. I read one of his novels on a plane once because I'd forgotten my own book." He taps his chin. "The one with immortal lovers? It was surprisingly good. I even teared up at the end, and blamed it on the awful plane Champagne." Joe is comfortable admitting this, though he does feel a little silly for it.

That gets a blush from Nicky, who hadn't expected to hear such things from Joe. "So you very much think that the work of Nicholas January is good," he assesses, hating that he'd agreed to that name, but it had been early in his career.

He slides his fork through the sauce, not sure if he should confess now or later, but Joe is probably going to find out soon. "You know, if you want, I could get the author to sign a book for you or your sister," he offers. "Maybe you could even take one from the shelf."

Why is Nicky blushing now? Is he ashamed that he liked these novels too? Joe smiles, taking another bite from his lasagna. "I mean, I've only read one of his novels and I'm not exactly a romance novel specialist, but I think he did a good job making his characters likeable and his world-building interesting. For what it's worth."

He takes a sip from his wine, his eyebrows arching. "Oh, you know him? She would like that, thank you." The second offer gives him pause. "That's very generous, but I wouldn't want to take one of your books, if you're a fan." Joe has books he values a lot, and wouldn't want to pass on.

Nicky can't help smirking, because it's too good an opening. "Well, I would say that I'm a fan, but I'm not a hypocrite. It would be very unfair of me to spend so much time accusing you of being so narcissistic and self-serving about your work only to preen and talk about my books so highly."

He relaxes into his chair, enjoying all the praise Joe's just given him. "Being an art critic doesn't make that much money," he admits. "I took up romance novels on the side to help with the money and luckily, they do very well."

It means that he can pick what art he reviews and rarely worries about his commission.