Luis swallowed and forked another piece of fish instead of trying to reply to that, sticking it in his mouth.
And Karim watched.
When he’d cleared his plate, Karim stood and rounded the table to him. Luis tries not to be so aware of his presence, the way tonight he was wearing a dark button up shirt with the sleeves rolled that bared his muscled forearms. The way he stood just a little too close as he picked up the plate.
Against his better judgement, he looked up. Karim was looking at him, dark eyes gleaming.
“I’ll be right back,” Karim said, and then was stepping away, taking the plate back to the kitchen.
Luis sucked in a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“He won’t say it,” Julien said when he’d gone, “but he’s thrilled to have someone to cook for.”
It took a moment for Luis to shift his focus. When he did, he saw that amusement was back on Julien’s lips.
“Doesn’t he cook for you?” Luis asked.
“He does, but you’ve seen my portion. Much more satisfying to cook for someone with a real appetite.”
“Oh,” Luis said. “Don’t you have other people over? Dinner guests?”
But now that he thought about it, they really never mentioned friends or coworkers they spent time with.
“No.” Julien reached for his wine glass, touching it as though he were going to lift it to his mouth, and then didn’t. “Karim’s… not fond of most people. It’s complicated. You’re our first guest in a while.”
“I hope I’m doing okay,” Luis said, suddenly self-conscious. “I think this is my first non-family dinner.”
“You’re perfect,” Julien said. “And you like his food, that’s all I could ask for,” Julien winked at him.
“That’s not hard, he’s… he’s really good in the kitchen.”
“He is,” Julien said with obvious pride.
Karim returned with a second helping of dinner, and Luis’s stomach fluttered when he picked back up the fork. Across the table Julien worked slowly at finishing his plate in small bites, while Karim retook his seat to watch Luis eat.
It was weird, but Luis decided he didn’t hate the attention. It was intense, but also… kind of nice. A chef who couldn’t eat his own food… maybe this was the next best thing?
“God that was good,” Luis said, as he put the fork down. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Karim said. Luis didn’t think he imagined a quirk up of his lips before he was rising to whisk the dishes away.
“This was really lovely,” Julien said, finishing his last sip of wine. “Thank you for joining us for dinner, Luis.”
“Thank you for the invite,” Luis said.
Then Karim was back. “You bring your kit?” He asked Luis.
Julien was too polite to roll his eyes, but Luis felt the exasperation off him. “You’re being impolite.”
“I’m hungry,” Karim said plainly, “and Luis offered fresh blood.”
The nerves he’d had when he arrived had shaken off with a good meal. Luis pushed out of his chair, “It’s cool, yeah, I can do that now.”
Julien stood. “You don’t have to if you’ve changed your mind.”
Luis knew he meant it. If he decided just to go home, they’d let him. But he wanted this too. He said as much.
“Great,” Karim said, a little hurried, “then let's go.”
