Chapter Text
Eddie looks up from his laptop screen with a smile as he hears the familiar click of the front door closing, followed by the jingle of keys hitting the catch-all bowl of junk that sits atop the side table in the front hallway. He listens for the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his roommate’s heels on the hallway floor as he absently strokes their overgrown and overly-spoiled cat between the ears, taking a moment to shush the wild beast as he stirs in Eddie’s lap.
“Shh, Rupurrt. It’s okay. It’s just Mommy,” he coos as the cat stretches and settles in his lap, snuffling softly.
“Eddie? Where are ya, Puddin’?” Chrissy calls out cheerfully as she makes her way down the hallway of their shared loft apartment, her heels clicking and echoing on the hardwood.
“In here, babe,” Eddie answers, glancing up from his screen just as Chrissy pokes her head through the open doorway, her smile lighting the otherwise darkened room.
“What are you doing?” She asks with a chuckle, her nose crinkled adorably. “You look like a damn supervillian — stroking the kitty, sitting here in the dark in front of your computer. Ominous,” she says as she crosses the short distance between them, flicking the lightswitch as she enters the room. “Is Daddy being good, Rupurrt? What’s he up to, hm? Plotting world domination?”
“Christ, Chris! My eyes!” Eddie exclaims with a groan as he rushes to shield his eyes from the harsh overhead light.
“Sorry, babe. But didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not good to stare at a screen in the dark like that? Bad for your eyeballs,” she says with a wink as she bends to extract the cat from Eddie’s lap, eliciting a weak protest from both Eddie and the cat.
“Well fuck you too,” Eddie says with a pout as Chrissy gathers the ball of fluff into her arms as she kicks off her shoes and settles on the small sofa in their home office, legs tucked beneath herself. “You come in here and nearly blind me, then you steal our child away without so much as a little hello smooch? The hell, Chris?”
“Oh, hush. You’re fine. You haven’t bothered to ask how my evening went, so consider this payback. Daddy’s a dick, isn’t that right, Rupurrt?” She says in a sing-song voice as she nuzzles the cat. “What are you doing sitting in here all alone in the dark, anyway?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie replies as he swivels his chair to face her. “But first off, I was hardly alone with that giant monster in my lap now, was I? But anyhow, tell me about your date. And spare none of the sordid details. Good kisser?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. What makes you think I kissed her? It was our first date,” Chrissy says, feigning offense.
“Sure, sure. Clutch those pearls, babe. You forget I know you’re a dirty slut.”
“Pot meet kettle,” she replies with a wink as she bends to kiss the top of Rupurrt’s head. “And yes, while I am a dirty slut, I really like this girl. So …”
“Liking her means you can’t kiss on the first date? You’re so weird, I swear. Because liking a guy for me almost always means loads more than kisses on the first date. Just sayin.’”
“Hehehe - loads. Gross.”
“Eh. What can I say? I am also a dirty slut. So tell me all about her — come on now, what are you holding back for?”
“Oh my god, Puddin’ — she is just … AH! She’s so cute and fun and witty! Oh my god she’s so witty! Sharp, too. You’ll love her, I just know it! And she does the cutest little thing when she laughs real big — you know, like when something is just achingly funny — she gets the cutest little wrinkle right between her eyebrows and her nose scrunches up all sweet and cute. And she has freckles, too — just SO MANY freckles, all across her nose and her cheeks. She’s amazing.”
“Well, I know what a sucker you are for freckles,” Eddie says fondly as he watches Chrissy gush over her date. “So what I’m hearing here is that she’s cute, yeah? And fun?”
“Shut up. You ass.”
“Also, is she cute, Chris?”
“Oh, fuck off. Dick,” Chrissy replies, giggling.
“Nah, I think it’s adorable, that’s all,” Eddie says with a shrug as he nudges her knee with his socked foot. “So what does she do? Does she have a name — this sweet, witty, cute girl?”
“Yes she has a name, you dickhead. It’s Robin. And she’s a pastry chef at that new French restaurant downtown.”
“Ooh la la — tres fancy! Is she French?”
“No, you dumbass,” Chrissy giggles.
“Ah, but her kisses are, huh? I can tell — look at how you’re blushing! Chrissy and Robin, sittin’ in a tree …”
”Eat me. Such an asshole,” Chrissy says, laughing. “Why do I bother telling you anything? Honestly.”
“Eat you? No thanks, babe,” Eddie replies, his nose crinkling in distaste. “Though I appreciate the offer, your dick isn’t nearly big enough. Plus it’s plastic. I prefer the more warm-blooded, thick & veiny variety. But if my dry spell continues for much longer I’ll let you know.”
“Such a dickbag, isn’t he, baby Rupurrt?” Chrissy coos, nuzzling the cat in her arms.
“Seriously though, I really am happy for you, babe. When are you seeing her again?”
“This weekend! I’m so excited already. And you’ll be helping me shop for the perfect outfit, so clear your calendar for Friday afternoon.”
“You got it, toots,” Eddie says with a wink and a grin. “I can’t wait to meet her — I haven’t seen you this giddy after a first date in … well, ever. It’s nice, I’m enjoying it very much.”
“Thanks Puddin.’ So what exactly are you doing sitting all alone in the dark? Kinda creepy, if I’m being honest.”
“Well, you know me — I am very very creepy,” Eddie says as he turns toward the computer to wake the screen. “I’ve been watching YouTube videos, if you must know.”
“YouTube videos? Is that code for porn? Because you know I don’t care if you watch porn. I mean, just keep the jizz off the common furniture and it’s all good,” she says with a shrug.
“Ugh. Gross. And no it is not code for porn, you degenerate. I am actually, literally watching YouTube videos, you harlot.”
“What about?”
“Okay so you know how Wayne’s birthday is coming up, right? And also how he never ever wants anyone to do anything special for him? Well I thought it would be nice to cook something special for him. And he would never ever expect it, either.”
Chrissy levels him with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. “You’re going to cook? You. Are going to cook. Hm. Hate to break it to you, babe, but I’ve had your burnt boxed mac & cheese before, and Puddin’ — you cannot cook.”
“I am aware of that, you evil wench. Hence the watching of the videos. Come on, don’t you think Wayne will love this whole idea? I mean, the guy — he won’t ever let anybody do anything out of the ordinary for him — and you know how he’s always on me not to spend a lot of money on him.”
Chrissy grins as she affects a mock scowl and does her best Wayne Munson impression, “now ain’t nobody needin’ you kids to go and spend your hard-earned money on an old man. Save your pennies for a rainy day.”
“Yes, exactly!” Eddie exclaims, clapping his hands. “I dunno, Chris — I just want to do something special for him. For all he’s done for me, ya know? And this will definitely not be anywhere on his radar.”
“No I love it — I really do. What are you thinking about making?”
“That’s the thing — I can’t decide. I’ve been at this for what feels like years at this point and there are just so many cooking videos to choose from out there. And I am so far down the rabbit hole I don’t think I’m ever gonna find the right one.”
“Well, what’s his favorite dish? Maybe you should start there.”
“You know Wayne, Chris. He’s a down home meat-and-potatoes kinda guy. But I kinda want this to be special, you know? I don’t want to just throw a pot roast on or something like that. He does that every Sunday. I want something he wouldn’t make for himself.”
“Hm. Yeah, I get it. Though he would probably be over the moon excited for anything you make, babe. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right. But I really wanna make this special.”
“Oh! Remember when he went to that wedding last summer? For his old Navy buddy’s daughter? He raved about the food there — what did they serve? Was it prime roast or something?”
“YES! Yes, you’re right! It was prime rib. He does love prime rib. Wonder how hard it is to make prime rib? Can’t be that hard, right?”
Chrissy giggles as she sets Rupurrt down on the floor and rises from the sofa. She moves to stand behind Eddie’s chair and places a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Sure, sure. How hard could it be?” She asks, rolling her eyes. “I will say, it’s a good thing you’ve got a couple of months before you’ll have to pull this off. But, yeah. I would say start with searching for a specific recipe. Then you can probably build a whole menu from there.”
“Thanks babe. Wanna help me search?”
“God no. I can think of about 500 other things I’d rather do before I spend who knows how long sitting in front of your janky laptop screen watching people cook. Plus I’m pretty worn out. Gonna head to bed now, but I believe in you, Puddin.’ So does Rupurrt,” Chrissy says sweetly as she places a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head. “Tell you what — I’ll be your taste tester once you start your transformation into Gordon Ramsay.”
“Fine. Whatever, traitor. And for the record my laptop is not janky.”
“Don’t stay up all night, Puddin.’ Come on, Rupurrt — let’s go put our jammies on and cuddle while Daddy burns his retinas out.”
Eddie smiles fondly as his best friend leaves the room, their spoiled cat-child at her heels. “G’night, you menace. Gareth’s out of town, so no band practice tomorrow. I can stay up as late as I want. And you’re not the boss of me, by the way,” he calls after her as he checks the time. Just past midnight. He could go ahead and dive into this thing … do a quick search for prime rib. After all, he doesn’t have anywhere he needs to be in the morning. He shrugs off the notion of how pathetic it is that he’s researching recipes on the internet at midnight as he sets himself to his task.
He starts with a simple google search — how hard could it be to find what must be a fairly simple and uncomplicated recipe, after all — and after what feels like the ten millionth video, he lands on one that finally makes him sit up and take notice.
Chef Steve.
‘Well, hello there, Chef Steve,’ he whispers as the very attractive man comes into frame on screen. ‘Good goddamn …’ he breathes as he settles in to listen — albeit half-focused — to the warm tone of the man’s voice.
This guy is fucking stunning, and Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from the screen as he watches the absolute wet dream of a man run through the intro to his video. Eddie smiles as the chef onscreen ties a “Kiss the Cook” apron around his waist, taking a hair clip from the shoulder strap and clipping his long(ish) hair out of the way atop his head to keep it out of his eyes as he works. Eddie is mesmerized by the man’s smooth, baritone voice as he runs through the details of the ingredients laid out on his work surface.
‘Alright — let’s get right into it, yeah? Okay so for all my home cooks out there, we’re going to jump right in on the Standing Rib Roast today. Commonly known as Prime Rib — this is a hugely popular dish and it’s also one that can be a bit intimidating if you’ve never taken it on before. But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’ He says with a wink as he washes his hands.
‘And a reminder for anyone new to my videos … you can find recipes for every video as well as everything you need to create mind-altering meals on my Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. So make sure you subscribe so you never miss out! All recipes featured on my socials are 100% Rob-Tested and Rob-Approved, so no losers here! Alright!’ He says with a dramatic clap, ‘Let’s get started! First up, let’s start with the star of the show. No, not the meat. The seasoning!’
Eddie quickly bookmarks the page and clicks through to the guy’s YouTube channel. He simply must learn more about this insanely hot cook, even if the idea of some dickhead called ‘Rob’ being in the picture makes his eye twitch a little bit. Fuck you, Rob. Guy seems like a real asshole.
Rob. Ugh.
Eddie soon learns that Chef Steve’s YouTube channel is no joke as he scrolls through the dozens upon dozens of videos featuring everything from appetizers to main dishes to sides and desserts — the guy definitely seems to be quite accomplished around the kitchen. Eddie quickly taps the button to join the 200 thousand subscribers who’ve already boarded the Chef Steve train and opts in for notifications before heading over to Instagram and TikTok to do the same.
He’s a bit surprised that he’s never heard of this guy before — he considers himself to be relatively social-media savvy — but he’s pleasantly shocked to learn that the guy apparently has huge followings on all platforms, with over two million on Instagram and FIFTEEN million on TikTok. Holy hell. Eddie watches a few more quick videos on TikTok before biting the bullet and signing up for the guy’s Substack as well, which has an impressive 150 thousand subscribers.
He reads through Steve’s bio, hoping to learn a bit more about him. And maybe there might be something on there about whoever the hell this asshole Rob is, too. Because almost every video Eddie’s watched so far has some mention of this Rob character, and it’s a bit annoying. Rob doesn’t deserve this gorgeous, charismatic hunk of man. No way.
Eddie kind of hates Rob a little bit already.
Steve’s bio is woefully light on real details, but Eddie gets the jist of it. Formerly a Head Chef at a Chicago-area Michelin-star rated restaurant, the handsome 32-year old chef now primarily writes cookbooks and produces cooking tutorial videos, since his social media following has allowed him enough income to step back from the front lines in a professional kitchen. Apparently, working in a top-tier high-end restaurant is not all fun and games. Who knew.
There’s no mention of the guy’s marital status, though Eddie does not notice a ring. Not that it matters, of course. It’s not like Eddie is likely to run into the dude on the street or anything. But who says he can’t imagine, right? It’s fun. Harmless, even. In any case, the guy is fascinating to watch. Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from the screen as another video loads and Chef Steve comes into frame, his hazel eyes alight with mischief as he slaps an overly large, remarkably dick-shaped carrot onto the worktop.
‘Ever wonder how to make the most of root vegetables? Well, look no further! Though it would be a damn shame to cut this impressive beast up, wouldn’t it? That’s a pretty decent dose of Vitamin ‘D,’ I’d say. I mean, I’m not exactly a size queen but damn … this fella is impressive, isn’t he?’
Eddie snickers, shaking his head fondly as he watches the way the muscles in Steve’s forearms flex as he manhandles the phallic vegetable. “What a dork,” he whispers to himself.
‘That weak attempt at a joke is absolutely NOT Rob-sanctioned, by the way. I was threatened under pain of death to make sure I made that clear. So … crisis averted. No Rob approval on my carrot dick jokes. And incidentally, not that I think any of you watching right now are here for the nutritional accuracy or anything — but as it turns out, carrots are not actually rich in vitamin D. But I digress. Okay! So now that we have that out of the way, let’s talk root vegetables …’
Eddie scrolls for hours, watching tutorial after tutorial with rapt attention. Chef Steve has an easy, charming way about him, and Eddie feels like he might actually be able to learn a thing or two about how to navigate his kitchen from watching the guy. Steve makes frequent (although almost always corny as hell) little jokes throughout his tutorials, and he always gives a little bit of background and a little history lesson about the dishes he’s preparing. He actually explains how to select the freshest fruits and vegetables, how to select and trim the best cuts of meat, how to use complementary flavor profiles, how the science of cooking actually works beyond ‘throw it in the oven and wait.’
Despite the fact that Eddie’s attention is so frequently locked in on counting the delicious-looking moles peppering the exposed flesh of Steve’s throat and along his jawline — or on the flex of muscle in those thick forearms as Steve kneads dough for breads or chops vegetables with precision, he actually feels like he may have learned a few tricks, even in the short time he’s been watching. He can’t tear his eyes away from the quick, clever maneuvering of those frankly gigantic hands as Steve trims and cuts various meats and vegetables, or the adorable wisp of his chestnut hair that so frequently falls stubbornly onto his forehead as he works.
How pathetic am I? He wonders as he continues to scroll through the additional content on Steve’s pages. Developing a crush on an internet-famous chef is pretty ridiculous, especially one who he has absolutely zero likelihood of ever meeting and who is also apparently already involved with some asshat called Rob.
Fucking Rob.
Eddie snaps out of his daydreaming and backs up the video after only halfway-hearing his newfound internet crush announce an upcoming Instagram live event. He quickly checks the date of the video he’s been watching — uploaded just yesterday — and backs up enough to catch the full announcement.
‘Don’t forget to head over to my Instagram on Saturday the first at 3pm central time! By popular demand and your absolutely relentless comments, I’ll be making one of my favorite dishes from start to finish with all of you. So get those knives sharpened and make that grocery list — we’ll be making Spaghetti alla Puttanesca. I’ll put the ingredient list on my substack and also in the comments for anyone who wants to participate,’ Steve says with a wink as he looks into the camera. ‘And even if you just want to hang out and send silly comments in the chat, that’s fine too. All are welcome here. I’ll also be making a very special announcement to celebrate reaching 2 million Instagram followers, so make sure to join the party!’
“Eddie? What are you still doing up, you weirdo?” Chrissy says from the doorway as she yawns and rubs her eyes. “It’s like four in the morning.”
Eddie startles, jolting in his seat. “Fuck — you scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims, his hand to his chest. “Shit — yeah, I guess I should shut down. Didn’t realize how late it is.”
“What are you watching, anyway?” She asks as she rounds the desk to stand at his side. “Oh wow — he’s hot!”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I’ve been watching him for hours now. So fucking hot — Jesus. Why are you up, anyway?”
“Had to pee. Sue me. So, what’s this guy’s deal? He’s a chef?”
“Yeah. A fucking smoke show of a chef. I think I could actually learn how to make some stuff from this guy.”
“Well, if anyone could capture your attention long enough to learn how to fucking COOK, it would definitely be someone who looks like THAT guy. Come on though — you need to sleep at some point. I promise the internet will be there tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right. Sorry if I woke you,” Eddie replies as he takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles.
“You didn’t. Had to pee, remember? Now go to sleep — you have to make me pancakes in the morning.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“Since when is your agreement required? You’ve been watching hot chef videos for hours — you can make me some fucking pancakes,” she responds as she leans down and kisses the top of his head.
“Doesn’t mean I can put anything I’ve seen into practice, you harlot. But yeah, I’ll give it a try. Now go back to bed.”
Eddie takes a moment to double-check that he has notifications enabled for Chef Steve’s Instagram and shuts down for the night.
Morning.
Whatever.
No way he’s missing out on that live event.