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Innamorato; Passionflower <3
Topic Started: Apr 10 2010, 08:22 PM (2,577 Views)
passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas kept his hands about his cup, soaking up the last of the warmth his cup of tea had to offer. His eyes remained poised on Sal. Seems there was more to the call, a whole... backdrop to what had inspired the blond to call. Upset, anger. Thomas none the less smiled a bit. "... It might not have been out of niceness or on the best of terms, but you still called." he stated simply.

So Sal had been planning, otherwise, to not call him. He supposed he had every right to not call him. Thomas likely would represent, just as much as Sal did to him, a reminder of the man who was now gone from this world. The brunet had gone quiet for a moment or two, as he found himself soaking in the look of Salvatore's face. Features that looked exactly like Paul's, when one first glanced at them. Except for the scruff on his face, and the way he wore his hair. It wasn't messy, but much more casual than how Paul would have dressed.

Thomas idly had to wonder why he kept... making those comparisons in his head. His mind, heart and body just seemed so confused. Perhaps parts of himself still needed convincing that this wasn't the man who had laid claim over his heart two months ago, despite what he saw. Like looking at an illusion.

Thomas smiled a little to himself, as his eyes shifted down to his hands. He eyed the golden band on his finger... and surprisingly he began playing with it a little, rotating it around his ring finger. The smile dissipated, settling for a straight line on his lips. It was odd, he was dreading the day he finally took that band off. He released his hold on it, and put his attention back on his tea, which he finished off in a few slow sips. He set the cup down then.

"... Well..." he began, as his eyes managed to rise back up to meet his dead lover's brother's blues. "I suppose I should let you get to work soon? I don't want to hold you up if you need to be somewhere else," he insisted.

~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal managed a nod. True, he had called, even though he’d planned on it. Despite everything, he had in fact still picked up the phone. He himself didn’t quite grasp the significance of it, but apparently Thomas saw something to it. It seemed strange to Sal that Thomas would choose to focus on that detail; it were him, he was pretty sure he’d have focused on the whole ‘no intention of ever calling’ part. It’d have ticked him off, which speared a prick of guilt through his chest for doing it, but Thomas didn’t mind it. Or at least he didn’t seem to. It wasn’t his focus, apparently unimportant – at least to the whole scheme of the issue.

Thomas was a much better person than he was, Sal decided then.

The blond watched the movement of the brunet’s fingers. The way he found the band around the ring finger and twisted it. The ring Paul had bought for him, presented it as a token and physical show of the commitment he wanted to make to Thomas. Sal might not know very much when it came to committing to someone like that, but he at least understood the intensity and feeling that must have been behind the act. Honest to goodness love – Paul wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been realer than him self.

A surprising pang of bitterness hit him in the chest as he looked at the ring. He’d never felt anything like the stuff Paul had talked endlessly about over the years, like when his brother must have found in Thomas. He couldn’t make himself stick to one person for than maybe a week, let alone vow his life to them. It kind of… well, thinking about it now kind of made him wonder what was wrong with him, what disconnect did he have that Paul hadn’t? That Thomas didn’t have? Not that he was unhappy with his life or anything, but, well… it was still something to think about.

Thomas’ hands stopped fiddling with the ring and Sal lifted his eyes, watching the brunet finish off his tea. His brow went through a series of arching and furrowing as the man spoke, Sal mostly unconscious of the twists of expressions touching his face as he listened.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Uh, right. Yah. I mean probably should and all; Jimmy said he’d be fine on his own today if I didn’t show, but I should probably give him a hand anyway.” He nodded to himself, shifting and going through the motions of picking himself up out of his chair. His hands smoothed over the front of his shirt, over his stomach, as he got to his feet. He turned briefly at his waist to cast a look towards the door of the café before turning back around to look at Thomas. “But, so… Sunday for sure? You’re not gonna flake out on me, right?” He offered a small smirk.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas too made to getting up out of the comfortable chair. His hands smoothed over his sleeves and down his shirt a bit. He made sure to pat his pockets. Wallet and cell... all he'd brought with him. Good.

His gaze went back to Salvatore as the blond asked him if Sunday was a for sure dinner date. A smile twisted up the corners of his mouth, as an amused look filled his green eyes.

"Do I look like the type to 'flake out' on people, Mr. Durante?" he chuckled quietly. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything else he had to specifically do while in New York. He'd be living a very laid back existence for a while. A bit odd for someone like Thomas. He'd spent many years working hard. But he wasn't all too opposed to taking a little break from the endless hamster wheel of life.

"If anything, I expect I'll show up at your door and you'll realize you're the one who forgot," he teased him. Or worse... there would be some half naked girl sprawled out on the living room couch. But he didn't mention that part. They soon headed out to the side walk in front of the cafe. Thomas looked the blond up and down, then he extended his hand, to shake. He smiled to him.

"Thanks again. And I'll see you on Sunday. Have fun at work," he mused. Which actually was probably a very probably statement, if Sal had been truthful abouT how much he enjoyed making pizza.

Once they shook, Thomas turned, and he headed down the street, the few blocks it too to get back to the hotel. An interesting ball of warmth had formed in the pit of his stomach. It left him oddly giddy. He didn't quite know what to think of it. All he did know was... he was feeling pretty good. The first time in weeks...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal huffed a laugh over the super formal name Thomas used, teasing him again. Mr. Durante… he hadn’t been called that since high school, by the principle whenever he bent the rules a little more to his liking. Needless to say, he wasn’t used to the formality, but it amused him greatly and he rolled his eyes over it. “Nah, I guess not,” he admitted, giving Thomas a quick once over. He certainly didn’t look like the type to flake on anything. Not at all.

He did all at laugh when the brunet accused that it would he who’d end up forgetting if one of them was going to. He was still chuckling as he fished out his cigarettes the moment they stepped outside the café’s door. “Normally, you’d be right.” He shook out a smoke and let it rest unlit between his grinning lips. “But since there’s food involved, I guarantee you I won’t be forgetin’.” He winked at the brunet, “A dinner’s the last thing an Italian’s gonna forget, I sweat to you that.”

He looked down to Thomas’ hand when the man presented it to him. He accepted the companionable shake, enjoying the touch of their palms as much as he’d enjoyed it when Thomas had laid his hand over his wrist earlier – which was to say, he probably enjoyed it a little more than he should have. He said his goodbye to the Brit and watched him head on down the sidewalk towards his hotel two blocks away; he lit up his cigarette while he stood there, because yes he was itching for a smoke, but also to distract from the fact that he was really just watching Thomas’ retreating back. Once the stick was lit he had no excuse to stay were he was, so he went on his way and hailed a cab to take him back out to “Salvatore’s”.

Friday and Saturday were as busy as Sal had predicted they’d be. He was used to it by now though, having worked in it basically his entire life – along side his pop for the majority and as the sole owner for the last six. But he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Thomas he genuinely loved his job, so even though he went home both nights a little strung out and a lot tired, it was a feel good exhaustion. A welcome one. That being said, he was still happy to see Sunday and the slower pace it brought in the pizzeria.

He only went in for a few hours Sunday, cutting out earlier than usually to clean up and prepare for the planned dinner Thomas would be showing up for that night. Cecelia, per usual, had protested. Loudly. But ultimately, all Sal had had to do was use the ‘I’m the Boss’ card and make a few empty threats to shut her up in the end.

He’d showered as soon as he got home, washing away the flour and sweat and bits of clinging dough that had started drying out and crusting up on his hands, around his blunt nails and, somehow, his elbows. He stood around wondering how he’d managed to accomplish that for a while in the shower before getting out and redressing.

Currently, it was just about half past 4 and he was buzzing around his kitchen in a pair of jeans and a slate colored tank top covered with a simple black button down he’d left hanging open on his shoulders. He had his small dining table set for two with a nice bottle of wine waiting to be opened alongside a basket of bread, and all of his decided upon courses were either finished or just about there. All he was really waiting for now was Thomas’ arrival…
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas had spent the weekend relaxing. He'd taken a trip to the local library, and lost himself in some old literature. Some being titles he'd tackled long ago and was revisiting, and others he had yet to touch. Though he found himself oddly enough the most caught up in rereading Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Hm... all that Italian influence perhaps? Or maybe he was getting himself in the mood for Sunday's dinner.

Sunday in fact came faster than he had anticipated. Then again, Thomas always found time tended to fly when he got caught up in the literary worlds of fantasy. He'd stopped by his hotel room around three to freshen up, after spending the morning enjoying a walk through one of the city's parks.

Thomas had found himself in the bathroom, primping a little. He adjusted the sleeves on his shirt. Still a button down, a yellow green in color, though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, belaying a little more casual in appearance. He smoothed down the collar of his shirt, checked his buttons, then eyed his face in the mirror. He raked his hair back from his face, and felt an oddly nervous tinge in his hand. His stomach as it was was fluttering a little within his gut. He just hoped it was a sign he was hungry. For truly, what reason did he have to be nervous? ... He adjusted the tuck of his shirt, then gave a quick spurt of cologne. Okay... enough.

He grabbed up his wallet and phone, as well as the keys to his rental car. He stole a glance to the rather nice looking Rolex on his wrist. Nearing four. He hurried out and soon was in the shiny black Lexus.

The traffic was a bit hectic, especially when he was still weirded out by driving on the opposite side of the road. He'd lost count of how many times he'd slid into the passenger side, to only realize a moment later he'd mistaken the passenger side for the driver's once more. Old habits died hard apparently.

He passed 'Salvatore's', and soon enough, three blocks down, there was an old brick apartment complex. That looked like it. No other buildings around matched the description. He pulled off and parked the car. His hands smoothed over his shirt, as he headed into the lobby of the building and pressed a button for the seventh floor. Once on the floor, he walked along the hall. 708, 710, 712... He stopped outside the door. Well this should have been it. He wouldn't know for sure till he knocked. Which he did. Three times, firmly. His hand lowered then as he waited for Sal to open the door.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal licked thick red sauce from his thumb in the kitchen, head snapping up when he heard the knocking at his door. He grinned around the digit in his mouth and quickly wiped off his hands before making for the door, feeling a funny little crackle of pleasure and excitement just beneath his skin. There was only one person he’d invited over tonight so there was no question in his mind who would be standing on the other side of his door when he opened it. His grin grew when he finally had the door open and he could see for himself that it was in fact Thomas.

“Hey. Didn’t get lost, I see,” he moved aside, gesturing and ushering him in.

The apartment Thomas walked in to wasn’t all that big, but it wasn’t uncomfortably crammed either. It was decent enough, the inside reflecting the casual nature of the man who lived there. Warm, beige walls and a deep red sofa greeted visitors first thing, a television set on top of an entertainment stand resting on the other side of a coffee table in front of the sofa. The décor was simple, he space neat though not immaculate with a few photos on a loosely filled bookshelf against the wall opposite the television – pictures of family, alive and gone, including a relatively recent one of Sal and Paul horsing around with each other. The whole place had a well worn and comfortable feel to it and it was thick with the smell of hot, fresh food just cooked in the kitchen.

While Thomas was undoubtedly taking in the new surroundings, Sal was taking in the brunet. He looked good, as he had the other two times he’d seen him; the rolled up manner of his sleeves quirked Sal’s mouth, the blond finding it almost odd compared to the ways he’d seen Thomas dressed the other times. He liked it though, the hint of casualness comforting.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Sal said as he led the way from the door and further into his home, heading for the kitchen and adjoining ‘dining room’. He chuckled to himself; he’d kind of gone all out over this. True Italian style five course meal and all.

He went straight to the set table and grabbed the bottle of wine; a nice, Tuscan red he’d come across the other day and immediately snatched up, excited by the find. He proceeded to open the bottle, turning a glance back towards the general direction he figured Thomas was. “Wine ok with you?”
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas heard the lock coming undone on the other side of the door, and then the door itself was cracked open. He smiled warmly as he soon was faced with the familiar blond.

"Nope, it was quite easy to find." he informed. He was also immediately assaulted with the strong smell of the Italian food that Sal had cooked up. It was a hearty scent, warming and rich, much like the food it belong to. The door was closed behind him, and Thomas was soon taking in the details of the comfy living space that Sal frequented. He didn't get too long to observe tough, for Sal was soon drawing his attention away from the living space and toward the dining room.

"Sounds like you're planning on fattening me up," he mused quietly. Smelled like it too. Italian, in Thomas' mind, was known for being notoriously heavy. With thick sauces and good cheese. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Though he truly had to wonder how Sal kept as trim as he did if he ate as much of the Italian food Thomas figured he did on a daily basis.

He paused in his step as he looked over the table for two that had been properly set. As well as the large array of food sitting out and waiting to be devoured.

"... You really outdid yourself," Thomas informed. His eyes went to Sal, as he lifted the bottle of wine. A pleased smile came to his face. "It's much more than 'ok' with me," he chuckled. He watched the other yank out the cork, and once he'd poured them both a glass, he picked up his in a typical wine drinker's hold. He didn't sip immediately, instead he swirled the vibrant red liquid around in the delicate glass, then lifted it to his lips. He inhaled the bouquet of the strong wine, and another smile came to his face. His lips then cupped the rim of the glass and he took a sip. The strong, sour yet sweet taste filled his pallet.

"Mmm..." he savored the first sip, then finally swallowed. "Excellent," he gave his verdict on the wine. His eyes then lifted to Sal. "I suppose I should have figured you'd be well versed in wine... Italian and all," he mused softly. Probably one of the few traits him and his brother shared.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal watched Thomas sip and savor the wine as he swallowed some himself, lips curling around the cool glass as he did. Clearly, Thomas was familiar with the beverage and all that went along with it. He was glad; some people just didn’t take to the flavor of the drink and half of those who did enjoy a glass every once in a while weren’t fans of the usually harsher red. But it looked as if he wasn’t going to have to drink the bottle on his own tonight.

He shrugged over the observation Thomas made over the food, Sal taking another sip of his wine before setting the glass back on the table. “You said you wanted traditional. No legit Italian meal comes in smalls.” He flashed a grin at the brunet, transferring the plates of food from his counter in the kitchen to the table just a short distance away.

Along with the wine and plenty of bread there was a bowl of salad and a platter of cheese, olives and meats. He’d made the classic Italian spaghetti and meatballs for the main course, the sauce thick and obviously homemade, as well as the meatballs. Store bought cans of tomato sauce was not something anyone would ever find in Salvatore Durante’s house, same as it had been when he was growing up. If it was even suggested, Sal was pretty sure his father would have had a heart attack a lot sooner than he actually had. There was another platter with nothing but vegetables on it too – zucchini, peppers, eggplant, cabbage, and asparagus.

When it was all out on the table, Sal put his hands to his hips and eyed the spread. A nod of satisfaction and then he turned at the waist to Thomas, hand reaching for his wine glass and taking a sip before speaking. “There’s dessert too. So be prepared for that. You aren’t allowed to leave without, it’s a rule.” He winked and sipped at his wine again.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas was all smiles. He set his glass down... and went to the kitchen to help carry out the platters of food and set the on the table. He too took a look over the delicious spread. He glanced over to Sal, as the other informed him there was also dessert waiting, on top of everything else.

"Sounds like I am definitely going to be leaving here a few pounds heavier," he smirked as he went to one of the chairs, pulled it out, and had himself a seat. Once Sal too had taken his seat, Thomas couldn't help but feel a warm tingle hit him in the pit of his stomach. It was funny that Sal didn't consider himself a romantic, yet here he was cooking up a five course meal for someone he'd just met. If he did this for any girl, Thomas had a feeling he could easily win her over in the long haul. So ... Sal just really wasn't interested in the long term, was what he had to conclude.

He smiled none the less, and lifted his glass. "...A toast, to the chef," he mused. He clinked his glass to Sal's then, and took a sip of the wine. He then set it down, and once their toast was finished he went about fetching the salad bowl and getting some onto his plate.

The brunet then picked up a fork, and speared some of the lettuce and fresh veggies, covered in olive oil and a hint of vinegar. He brought the forkful to his lips and bit down. He chewed thoughtfully, then smiled once more. Nothing beat home made food, despite how much Thomas loved high class cuisine. It was maybe the fact it was made by loving hands. Be it from a mother, a lover... or in this case his fiancee's twin brother.

~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
“It’s good for you,” Sal assured when Thomas joked about leaving tonight heavier than he’d been upon arriving.

He took his seat across from the brunet, easing into the chair comfortably and rolling his eyes when he was toasted for a job well done. He answered it, clinking his glass to the other man’s and sipping slowly, unable to keep off the grin on is face.

It was true, what Sal had done could and probably would be considered a romantic by others. But if it had been a romantic effort than it had gone by unconscious to Sal. It hadn’t had anything to do with romancing his dinner guest… he just liked cooking, and if he was doing it for someone other than just himself it seemed just common sense for him to go as far and grand as he could. Maybe it had to do with how he’d been raised, maybe it was just how he was.

Helping himself to some salad as well, Sal alternated between it and pickings from the platter of cheese and olives, including some bread as well. He was satisfied with how things had turned out, so far, and he watched Thomas while the brunet ate to see how it faired with the other man. Seemed like he was enjoying it too.

“So what’d you do with your yourself the last two days?” He asked between bites and sips from his wine glass. He hadn’t seen or heard from the brunet since their Brunch adventure Thursday and he was curious – he’d thought of the Brit often enough over the weekend, catching himself doing so at all hours of the day. He didn’t know exactly what to make of that, but he didn’t trouble himself over it all either.

“Didn’t hole up in your hotel room, I hope,” he smirked. “It’s practically a sin to become a hermit in New York, you know.”
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Green eyes lifted from his platter of veggies to look across the way at Sal. When asked what he did to occupy himself since seeing the blond on Thursday, Thomas simply smiled at first. The smile only grew as Sal went on to mention that he'd hoped he'd not turned into a hermit in New York. He gave a shake of his head, which caused some of his dark hair to fall across his eyes. He lifted a hand, brushing the criminal strand behind his ear.

"I explored around. Went to the local library and probably read more books than you have in a lifetime," he teased. "And took a walk through the nearby park. In between trying food at a couple different places around," he smiled. The only disappointing part was he'd done all these things by himself. Normally, Paul would have been with him. And it had been a little itch that had bothered him throughout the past two days. Doing things by himself... it felt awkward. But he'd managed to brush it off enough to still go out and do them. Though he wasn't quite sure how much longer he could keep up the single and alone routine. He'd grown too accustomed to a lover at his side...

"... I assume you made more pizza than I've eaten in a lifetime in the past two days," he chuckled, his own poking fun at himself maybe? The street went both ways after all.

He paused in his eating, then and lowered his fork, as he glanced across the table. "This may sound like a silly question... But..." he began. He cleared his throat then. "I don't suppose you have any Italian music? ... Just to have on, softly. Music enhances any meal," he smiled a bit, a hopeful look in his green eyes.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal got stuck on the movement of Thomas’ hand and his hair, the brushing of it back. He might as well have been watching it in slowmo for as aware he was of the action. Why it caught him up like that, he’d never be able to explain to anyone, but it did. He followed the man’s fingers back to his ear, watched the faint way they curled to settle the fallen strands out of the way. Lucky though, he didn’t gawk like an idiot and broke free of the slight stupor in time to actually hear what the brunet was saying to him.

He narrowed a look at Thomas at the book comment; “I think you just called me stupid.” His mouth curled though, no offence taken, acknowledging that it had been more of the man’s teasing. “Sad thing is, you’re probably right.” He chuckled and forked some salad into his mouth, listening as Thomas shared with him.

Blue eyes went wide a moment, comically so as he nodded over talk of pizza. “Weekend’s always busy. I’m sure I made more pizza than even I’ve eaten in my lifetime, and I’ve eaten a lot of pizza.” He grinned.

Swallowing some more wine, Sal lifted his eyes to Thomas’ and held the vibrant green gaze when music was requested. Slowly, a smile curled his mouth around his glass again and his brow jumped as he lowered it to the tabletop. “I dunno. How much of a cliché does it make me if I say I do?”

He wiped his fingers on his napkin and got up without further word on the matter. Heading into the living room, he went over to the bookcase were a decent stereo system was set up and cast a quick eye over a small row of cd cases lined up beside it. His fingers slid a case out, opening it and fetching the disc, turning the cd player on and popping in the chosen disc.

He was obviously trying to hold down the amused quirk of his mouth as he rejoined Thomas at the table, the robust, smooth melody of leisurely Italian opera drifting in from the stereo as he sat down. Who’d have thought, rough around the edges Salvatore Durante enjoyed Italian opera.

“How’s that?” he asked as he took up his wine again. “Has your salad been enhanced by the power of Luciano Pavarotti?” He couldn't hold in the smile in at that, the expression cracking across his face wide and genuine, amusement afire in his blue eyes and an honest laugh bubbling from his chest.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
His green eyes remained poised on Sal as he came back to the table. He drank in the amused smile on his lips. And a chuckle escaped him at the comments that next left Sal's lips.

"Yes, actually," he shot back, and even stuck out his tongue a split second in a playful manner. "Music adds spice to anything, after all," he speared another forkful of salad. The smile on his lips never left as he took a few more bites. He was... so content on those moments. Happy, delighted. He'd only been here maybe a grand total of ten or twenty minutes. When he'd first laid eyes on Sal, he never would have thought such a fellow could pull together something like this.

His eyes lifted back up, to look across the table at his dinner partner. One would think the blond was rather uncultured, but that was not true. He was just cultured in his heritage. All things Italian. May have only been one culture out of hundreds, but it was still charming none the less. Thomas found himself bemused that such a man existed between the realms of sophisticated and average. But Sal did it, somehow.

When he'd finished with his salad, and picking at the olive and meats tray, he went for the spaghetti. Supple pasta, giant home made meatballs and thick marinara sauce. He filled his plate, likely with more than he could eat. But it didn't matter too much, there was plenty to spare.

He dug in with his fork, and spun it around in the spaghetti, He then brought the forkful to his lips and took the savory bite into his mouth. His eyes closed, as the freshness of the sauce and al dente quality of the spaghetti filled his mouth. He let out a little sound of content. "Mmm..."

Chewing slowly, he swallowed, then opened his eyes. A grin came back to his face. "May not be Florence, but you have quite the talent..." he gave a nod and a bright smile. "It's fantastic."
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal was more than a little amazed at how relaxed he was. He hardly knew Thomas, they were two very different sorts of people 9 times out of 10, but he was surprisingly comfortable with the brunet. His entire body felt loose like it wasn’t usually in the company of anyone outside the realm of blood-family. His guard was down, openly laughing and teasing… yet he felt none of the tension that normally wired him to breaking in such situations. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it. He didn’t want to ruin it.

When Thomas took his first bite of spaghetti, Sal was once again watching him like a hawk. He grinned, mimicking the content, pleased little sound the brunet had made, nodding as he did and pointing with his fork at Thomas. “That’s the best sound a man could ever hear about his food. Words are useless, it’s the sounds that say it all.” He twirled his fork into his own plate full of pasta. “I listen for it all day. If I hear it, I know I did my job. If I don’t, I know to step it up next time.” He smiled, “Thank you. It’s a pretty big complement to me to hear it come from you now.”

It was how he’d been taught growing up in his dad’s kitchen. A costumer can say whatever they want and every word of it, no matter how sweet, could be a lie. But the involuntary sounds a person makes when they take their first bite out of something, that’s the tell-all. That’s the real, honest verdict.

Sal refilled their wine, once again falling into that comfortable state across from the other man. It’d been awhile since he’d sat down and eaten like this with someone else… sure he had the occasional visitor eat a quick dinner at his table before they made it to his bed, or a breakfast in the morning after, but not like this right now. Most nights he just made himself something at the pizzeria before tossing in the towel for the night, and lately, unless it was with Jimmy and Cecelia, he hadn’t had any reason to make a big meal like this. It felt good being able to.

“So what kind of books did you bury yourself under in the library?” Sal asked half through his plate of pasta, recalling Thomas saying earlier that he’d done a lot of reading. He smirked playfully, “Old medical books bigger than your own head?”
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas smiled as Sal thanked him for making such a simple but complimenting sound. "... You have a point there," he mused softly. He went for another forkful, and was mindful of the red sauce. He refused to get any on himself or his shirt. A meticulous eater when he wanted to be.

He got a few forkfuls, by the time Sal brought up the next point of conversation. Books. Yes, Thomas quite liked books. Loved them honestly. Fiction, non-fiction, literature, modern lit, horror, drama, fantasy... even romance when he was in the mood for it (though if he had to read about another set of 'dewy mountain peaks rising and falling in great ripples of ragged breaths' he was going to gag).

He was in the midst of twirling up some more spaghetti, as a smile came over his face. "For the most part I revisited my old friend Shakespeare." he smiled a little. "Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, As You Like It, Merchant of Venice, and the Taming of the Shrew," he chuckled as he listed off the titles he'd tackled in those two days. His quirked a dark brow at the blond then.

"Don't suppose you care a lick about Shakespeare though, yeah? Since he's English... not Italian?" he teased playfully. Hah, Sal was fun to tease. Way too fun.

"Do you read, Salv... Sal?" there he went again. He gave a sheepish smile then. "... Sorry, I'm used to using full names with people..." he mused quietly. He himself always went by Thomas. Never Tom or Tommy... Nicknames were a bit of a strange entity. And Paul's name was too short to need a nickname.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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