pesto on cream cheese on crackers

Adam and i were in the throngs of prepping a munchie platter. while i felt passionate about weed and the deep rooted place it had in my priority list, i did twinge a little at the stereotypes. almost as fast as the self-loathing came, it swept past my mind when the pesto came out.
normally sending adam alone to make a snack meant waiting around for 30 minutes before you realized adam was just standing in the kitchen eating everything and puffing on cigarettes he shipped in from spain.
too many times we had waited up in the attic for naught so we would need to draw straws to see who had to get up and sous chef with adam. tonight we were stuck with only 2 guests so i stepped up to the challenge to help. i didn't feel like it was too much of a fucking chore to get up and help. it was important to note that adam often padded around his house in skin sucking bike short boy panties and delightfully opaque worn out tshirts. follwing around a tower of brown eyes and thick dark hair was more of a reality check than an actual task. it keept me pushing myself to stop thinking about chicks and focus on the bottomline: i liked dick. a lot.
adam worked with my roommate at a high end restaurant and was forever calling me during smoke breaks crying and breaking through to the realization that tonight was the night that he was going to quit. the confidence built towards the end of the cigarette and he'd stride all john wayne like to the kitchen door to swing it open. oh goodness he never hung up. standing high at 6"2 i go with him sightless through the kitchen... past the chefs who chuck recyclables out in front of my roommate causing a screaming match there and later at home... past the faggy chef that i want to make out with that has a wife... past the steam and chopping and conversations that trail off. adam on the warpath was tangible and he parted the way without much effort. hand booming into the swinging doors to emerge into an expanse of black table cloths and lighting that always gave him migraines intermittenly. scanning scanning around for a supervisor i'm sure, but all i can hear is the floor bussing. a hum of conversations and the clatter of food being shovelled into mouths.
the phone always snaps shut before anything good happens.
i'm told it consistently ends with another server running an interception before he ever made it to quit. some charged at him to push him off his course and potentially create some down time to cool off. some met him with the same intensity and a waterglass packed with the expensive gin and ice water for an explosive sexy come down.
part of adams appeal was the tizzying spin around of calm to fury. i really believe it appealed to me like some sort of boy rodeo of seeing how fast i could diffuse a bomb. my record was considerably impressive, but never the type to be cocky, know that i can have an endless winning streak.
tonight tonight, ah tonight adam walked in and stripped down a little more on each floor. dress shirt and tie at the door. pants on the main floor along with glasses. [left on some sort of flat surface, never to be seen until he threatened to burn the house down if we didn't help find them] and finally socks peeled off and hucked to a corner when he creaked up the attic stairs.
"I FUCKING HATE MY FUCKING JOB! FUCK! I WILL QUIT! I WILL AND THEN WE'LL STARVE TO DEATH BECAUSE I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO MAKES MONEY!!" immediately his boyfriend lept up with a freshly sealed joint and i stood up making sure to brush up against him for the thrill of it.
into the maw of a manic mouth went the joint and i ensured it was properly lit up for consumption. adam relaxed and let himself be sat on the floor. session protocol dictated that it be passed, but this was clearly an emergency. we let him haul on it and wash into a semblance of calm. he curved back to lay on the pillows while dragging saul down into his shoulder nook. i grabbed the torch to toke while adam and saul soaked up the endorphins one in theory gets when they're held. they murmured back and fourth and it was my turn to get a wonderful wash of the ooo's.
who knows how long i tuned out for, but i came to with an adam face pushed into my neck asking for me to pass it over. half gone but still optimism-inspiring for even my dark soul.
saul sat up looking faintly preturbed at how little adam was wearing. in my mind, if i looked like that i'd probably be prancing around nude as much as was legally possible. that and i guess it's always different when your boyfriend's cock is perfectly shillouetted in underwear with guests over. whatever, we're a laid back bunch and at least i wasn't sucking him off so? that's pretty fucking awesome in the cicles of gays i run with.
adam passed the joint over to saul and effortlessly leaned his head down to the floor while grabbing his outstretched legs. i'd slip a disc trying to lick one of my man tits let alone something that indepth.
having cycled out of rage and into the calm before the next wave of tantrums, adam declared that food was in order. after working all night schlepping plates of food, both adam and my roommate could not stop hustling, even on their own time. it wasn't good enough to assure them that you'd go grab something, there was a clear need to supervise to ensure the mission critical task at hand was completed.