[It's been interesting, chatting with Robert like this. And beyond that, he enjoys the man's friendship. Hopefully he hasn't just ruined it by pushing casual, friendly flirting a little further]
[He wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic response. Maybe he should have —it's Darling, after all— but it still makes him slow down his response a little. Unlike the other man, however, he will not admit to being flustered.]
Careful putting an accusation like that in writing.
Tomorrow? We can either go to the mainland or I'll cook.
[It does take him a few minutes to answer, because the idea of Muldoon hunting him down has absolutely flustered him. Excuse him while he fans himself a little.]
Well. I guess I'd better not be late, then. Tomorrow at seven? I might even wear a regular tie, instead of a bow tie. Change things up a bit.
[Well. That was an adventure, wasn't it? Darling's felt flustered all day at work, his focus pulled towards thoughts of dinner with his friend. His very handsome friend that he's had a thing for for who knows how long now, but... now they're going to have dinner.
Very exciting.
He does manage to head out of the lab on time to go back to his place and change into something not-work. Not jeans, he doesn't really do jeans. But after some fussing he settles on a polo shirt instead of his button down and bow tie.
Right! Right, he can do this. Just -- knock on the door. Super suave and not at all nervous.]
[An unintended, but pleasant side-effect of offering to cook is that it provides the warden with an easy focus. He can fixate on recipes instead of who's coming over. Run through the prep work he has to do instead of what he's going to talk about. He can figure out what ingredients he can get instead of what he has to wear aside from his uniform.
For perhaps the first time since he started this job, he leaves on time. He even manages a quick shower and change into jeans, since he does (rarely) do jeans, and a light blue button up shirt of his own. He doesn't do up the top two buttons of his shirt, let alone wear a tie. Casual. Just super casual. Not nervous at all.
The knock makes his heart skip a beat, though he'd never show it. He fixes the pot so it won't boil over, takes a moment to tidy himself up, and heads to the door. He doesn't hesitate in opening in, and doesn't quite manage to smother his smile when he sees Casper either.]
Evening. Come on in.
[The perks of being a department head include a small bungalow of his own. Muldoon being Muldoon, however, it's barely decorated at all. A few photos, a few books, but everything extremely neat.]
Would you like a drink? [He's already fetching Casper and himself a whiskey.]
Hey there! [It's a little bit dreamy, almost a sigh, and Darling looks a little starstruck. His hands flutter for a moment, tempted to reach out and maybe touch Robert's arm? But he changes course at the last minute to tuck his hands into his pockets, instead.
Very smooth, not nervous at all.]
I'd like that very much, yes. Uh -- thank you. For having me over. Not that you haven't had me over before, but -- [He sighs and shakes his head, adjusting his glasses a little.] I'm awful at this. At its core, nothing's really changed. We're just having dinner, in addition.
[In fairness, Darling is almost always a bundle of energy as far as the warden is concerned. Fluttering hands are clearly just the Italian in him. Muldoon got the stiff British school instead, which has him at an advantage in this respect.
Getting them both a drink isn't a bad way to calm things down, though. It doesn't give him much of a chance to keep a smile from curling the corner of his mouth, however. He can only hope Casper will be distracted by the whiskey.
He didn't expect Casper to be this nervous! It's cute! Maybe if he pokes a bit of fun Casper will relax.]
I suppose saying you look nice would just make it worse, then.
Oh no! You'll get me going again. [But it's said with a laugh as he moves further into the bungalow. It's rather nice, actually. Bigger than his own housing, and kept much more tidy. Not that Darling is messy, exactly, he has a system. That system just happens to be in the form of piles of papers.
He does dare to brush his hand over Muldoon's back, his tone shifting to something a little softer. More genuine.] You look very nice, too. No major injuries, it looks like.
[Laughing is good. A good start. It isn't exactly calming, but that's hard with fingers brushing his back.
It's impossible not to feel that touch, however light. It's as clear and strong as a jolt of electricity that threatens something between nerves and jumping the gun.]
Nothing major, no.
[He manages that much before moving to his tried and true method of self distraction. It's going to be easier than self-restraint, he's realising.]
How do you like your steak cooked? I thought I'd keep it simple since I don't actually know what food you like.
Steak? You're spoiling me, my goodness. [Though he does take his drink and step back a little, so Muldoon has room to cook without being hovered over. Tempting though it is to stick close.]
I will defer to your expertise, though I usually order mine somewhere in the realm of medium-rare.
[It's a small enough kitchen area, which usually suits him fine. Work usually keeps him from cooking his own meals. Today, though, he's happy to move about the place, the kitchen towel going over his shoulder whenever he's not using it.]
That's a good answer.
I was going to make a stew, but I wasn't sure how well you handle your spices. [Besides, he likes having the chance to spoil Casper a little. He's not going to waste it.]
[It's sweet, honesty. Domestic in a way he hasn't had in a long time. In a way his last relationship certainly wasn't. So he sips at his drink, hoping the glass hides the rather fond smile that lingers as he watches Muldoon work.]
I would say medium-ish? I do like a bit of spice now and again, but more for flavour than for heat. Something with a kick, but I won't lose my eyebrows.
My grandmother did make a mean shrimp fra diavlo, though.
[He's about to say something about 'having something spicier next time' but bites his tongue instead. Best not get ahead of himself.]
I've never heard of that before, but it sounds nice.
[Things come together quickly, just as he'd planned. He rolls his sleeves up as he gets the meat on the pan, and the potatoes and veg off the heat. Medium-rare doesn't take long to cook at all, either.
Luckily Muldoon is too focused on trying not to fuck up their meal to notice any half-hidden smiles. He's used to cooking for himself only, and he is not a picky eater. Meat, at least, he knows how to cook. Which is part of his reason for picking a simple steak. The potatoes and veg don't have to be anything special as long as the steak is done right.
He's quick to plate up and invite Casper to the table.]
Don't judge me too harshly. I haven't had to cook in a while.
It's a pasta dish with a red sauce that has a significant amount of chili flake in it. And shrimp, as the name suggests.
[Honestly, it's better than Darling manages for himself most nights. Instant soup, cereal, whatever is quick and easy. But this is homey and domestic and nice.
He joins Muldoon at the table, reaching over to touch his friend's arm with a smile. Warm and maybe a little affectionate. Touched, that Robert would go through all this work for him.] I wouldn't dream of this. It looks fantastic, truly.
[Caspar isn't making this easy, is he? The warden is being so good, but every time Caspar touches him the temptation to forget dinner, forget casual, rises up again. He certainly doesn't pull away though. He smothers a smile, trying not to look too pleased by the compliment, trying to keep everything relaxed, easy going.]
Hopefully it tastes alright as well.
[He waits for Casper to sit before following suit. He'd chosen to cook out of practicality, but it really seems to have impressed his company, which gets him curious.]
How long has it been since you had a home cooked meal?
[Besides, diving into questions stops him from overthinking anything. And, more importantly, it means he gets to find out more about Casper.]
[They're both trying to be very good, and both more or less succeeding. More or less. But he does find Muldoon's dry humour genuinely charming, and he's quite a handsome man.
Still, he should at least let them get through the dinner that the warden so kindly prepared.]
Oh -- embarrassingly long. Unless you count a peanut butter and jelly sandwich home cooking. Do you enjoy cooking? I'd like to learn more, but I'm distractable. As you may have noticed.
[He shakes his head in disapproval, but can't help a smile. Of course Casper would neglect anything not work related.]
Assembling food isn't cooking it, no.
I don't mind cooking, but I do it more for survival than fun.
[Cutting the steak and seeing that he did in fact cook it correctly gets a small nod of approval to himself.]
I started learning to make use of what I hunted. And to have nicer meals when I was camping. [Casper gets a wry smile then.] To be honest, I'm more familiar cooking over a campfire than a stove.
[Casper starts in on his meal as well with a hum of approval and an enthusiastic thumbs up to Muldoon. Much better than cereal at midnight.]
I don't think I've ever been camping, actually. I mean actually camping, not just me in my sleeping bag in the back yard, trying to catch fireflies. I was a Boy Scout, but that was short lived. I kept wandering off to investigate my own thing and would get in trouble for straying too far from the designated paths.
I like that idea, though. You know, if you've hunted something, if you've killed it, you should be able to utilize it, that whole philosophy. [He gestures while he talks, as always, though perhaps this time a little more dangerously, given that there are a fork and knife involved.]
[Alright, he does have to work to smother yet another smile at the idea of kid-Casper being a boy scout. He can easily see it. Especially the part where he wanders off.]
It's disrespectful to be wasteful. [He echoes the value shared by so many of his mentors without a second thought. But the thought of Casper catching fireflies is still stuck with him and he tilts his head curiously at the other man.]
What were you like when you were younger? Did you have siblings?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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And what decision might that be?
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Yes, please take me out to dinner.
I would love to go out to dinner with you, Robert Muldoon.
You secretly sweet man.
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Careful putting an accusation like that in writing.
Tomorrow? We can either go to the mainland or I'll cook.
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That's fantastic, I'd love to see you cook.
Tomorrow would be wonderful, yes.
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Come around seven?
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Seven, I can do that.
If I'm not there, it's not against you, I just got hyperfocused on something.
Will you come get me if I'm late?
Or set a trap, if you'd like.
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Well. I guess I'd better not be late, then.
Tomorrow at seven?
I might even wear a regular tie, instead of a bow tie. Change things up a bit.
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Very exciting.
He does manage to head out of the lab on time to go back to his place and change into something not-work. Not jeans, he doesn't really do jeans. But after some fussing he settles on a polo shirt instead of his button down and bow tie.
Right! Right, he can do this. Just -- knock on the door. Super suave and not at all nervous.]
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For perhaps the first time since he started this job, he leaves on time. He even manages a quick shower and change into jeans, since he does (rarely) do jeans, and a light blue button up shirt of his own. He doesn't do up the top two buttons of his shirt, let alone wear a tie. Casual. Just super casual. Not nervous at all.
The knock makes his heart skip a beat, though he'd never show it. He fixes the pot so it won't boil over, takes a moment to tidy himself up, and heads to the door. He doesn't hesitate in opening in, and doesn't quite manage to smother his smile when he sees Casper either.]
Evening. Come on in.
[The perks of being a department head include a small bungalow of his own. Muldoon being Muldoon, however, it's barely decorated at all. A few photos, a few books, but everything extremely neat.]
Would you like a drink? [He's already fetching Casper and himself a whiskey.]
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Very smooth, not nervous at all.]
I'd like that very much, yes. Uh -- thank you. For having me over. Not that you haven't had me over before, but -- [He sighs and shakes his head, adjusting his glasses a little.] I'm awful at this. At its core, nothing's really changed. We're just having dinner, in addition.
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Getting them both a drink isn't a bad way to calm things down, though. It doesn't give him much of a chance to keep a smile from curling the corner of his mouth, however. He can only hope Casper will be distracted by the whiskey.
He didn't expect Casper to be this nervous! It's cute! Maybe if he pokes a bit of fun Casper will relax.]
I suppose saying you look nice would just make it worse, then.
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He does dare to brush his hand over Muldoon's back, his tone shifting to something a little softer. More genuine.] You look very nice, too. No major injuries, it looks like.
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It's impossible not to feel that touch, however light. It's as clear and strong as a jolt of electricity that threatens something between nerves and jumping the gun.]
Nothing major, no.
[He manages that much before moving to his tried and true method of self distraction. It's going to be easier than self-restraint, he's realising.]
How do you like your steak cooked? I thought I'd keep it simple since I don't actually know what food you like.
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I will defer to your expertise, though I usually order mine somewhere in the realm of medium-rare.
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That's a good answer.
I was going to make a stew, but I wasn't sure how well you handle your spices. [Besides, he likes having the chance to spoil Casper a little. He's not going to waste it.]
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I would say medium-ish? I do like a bit of spice now and again, but more for flavour than for heat. Something with a kick, but I won't lose my eyebrows.
My grandmother did make a mean shrimp fra diavlo, though.
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I've never heard of that before, but it sounds nice.
[Things come together quickly, just as he'd planned. He rolls his sleeves up as he gets the meat on the pan, and the potatoes and veg off the heat. Medium-rare doesn't take long to cook at all, either.
Luckily Muldoon is too focused on trying not to fuck up their meal to notice any half-hidden smiles. He's used to cooking for himself only, and he is not a picky eater. Meat, at least, he knows how to cook. Which is part of his reason for picking a simple steak. The potatoes and veg don't have to be anything special as long as the steak is done right.
He's quick to plate up and invite Casper to the table.]
Don't judge me too harshly. I haven't had to cook in a while.
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[Honestly, it's better than Darling manages for himself most nights. Instant soup, cereal, whatever is quick and easy. But this is homey and domestic and nice.
He joins Muldoon at the table, reaching over to touch his friend's arm with a smile. Warm and maybe a little affectionate. Touched, that Robert would go through all this work for him.] I wouldn't dream of this. It looks fantastic, truly.
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Hopefully it tastes alright as well.
[He waits for Casper to sit before following suit. He'd chosen to cook out of practicality, but it really seems to have impressed his company, which gets him curious.]
How long has it been since you had a home cooked meal?
[Besides, diving into questions stops him from overthinking anything. And, more importantly, it means he gets to find out more about Casper.]
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Still, he should at least let them get through the dinner that the warden so kindly prepared.]
Oh -- embarrassingly long. Unless you count a peanut butter and jelly sandwich home cooking. Do you enjoy cooking? I'd like to learn more, but I'm distractable. As you may have noticed.
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Assembling food isn't cooking it, no.
I don't mind cooking, but I do it more for survival than fun.
[Cutting the steak and seeing that he did in fact cook it correctly gets a small nod of approval to himself.]
I started learning to make use of what I hunted. And to have nicer meals when I was camping. [Casper gets a wry smile then.] To be honest, I'm more familiar cooking over a campfire than a stove.
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I don't think I've ever been camping, actually. I mean actually camping, not just me in my sleeping bag in the back yard, trying to catch fireflies. I was a Boy Scout, but that was short lived. I kept wandering off to investigate my own thing and would get in trouble for straying too far from the designated paths.
I like that idea, though. You know, if you've hunted something, if you've killed it, you should be able to utilize it, that whole philosophy. [He gestures while he talks, as always, though perhaps this time a little more dangerously, given that there are a fork and knife involved.]
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It's disrespectful to be wasteful. [He echoes the value shared by so many of his mentors without a second thought. But the thought of Casper catching fireflies is still stuck with him and he tilts his head curiously at the other man.]
What were you like when you were younger? Did you have siblings?
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