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OK - now just bear in mind that this is rough as hell. And there's more at the beginning. But FINALY. SPATZLE.
----
The front door was unlocked when he got home. Funny; he locked it, didn’t he? The light was on in the kitchen, and he could hear the banging of pots and pans.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Dirk called out.
“Oh, hey, bro.”
“What are you doing here?” Dirk asked, his accent inexplicably thick, and he wasn’t sure if it was from being exhausted or emotional.
Steve stood at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling water. Beside him was a blue box of some sort of pasta, and a worn out skillet with a lid on it next to the pot, burner on low. “I got in this morning. It was going to be a surprise for you and the rest of the guys, for Game Seven. Listen, I know that you don’t want to hear this right now, but I’m really proud of you, man.”
“I didn’t even know you were in town.”
Steve opened the lid of the skillet and winced. He slammed it back down. “You weren’t supposed to, Dirk. That’s what surprise means.”
Dirk wearily sighed and hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter. “What are you making? Some sort of science experiment?”
“It’s supposed to be sauerbraten and spatzle.”
Dirk frowned. “And when did you start making this sauerbraten?”
Steve flipped through a stack of printed out pages, stained with red wine vinegar and meat juices. “Second quarter. I had hoped it would be a victory meal.”
“You do realize that sauerbraten takes a long time to make.”
Steve pulled out a drawer and rooted around, finding a bag of gingersnaps, pumping his fist with excitement. “Well, I don’t think it’s going to be like the sauerbraten that Silke makes. But I’m trying, damn it. Cut me some slack.”
Dirk’s curiosity took over, and he grabbed one of the blue boxes on the countertop. “What’s this? It’s not spatzle.”
“No, it’s gnocchi. I couldn’t find spatzle at the supermarket. Listen, this was all spur of the moment stuff, okay, Dirk? But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, grab yourself a beer and get me one, too.”
He did as he was asked, taking a Labatt’s out of the refrigerator for Steve and a Hacker-Pschorr for himself. He went into his living room and sat down in the dark, listening to Nashy crush gingersnaps and whisk them into the skillet. He could hear the gnocchi plop into the pot of boiling water, and Steve’s murmured curses as he heard the hiss of water that boiled over onto the stove’s burner.
Dirk wasn’t hungry. He just wanted to drink his beer and take his clothes off and go to bed. But Nash had done all of this for him, and he wanted to repay him, even if it meant eating what he knew would be an awful meal.
A half hour later, Nash flipped on the light, balancing a plate on one hand and another bottle of beer in the other. He sat the plate in front of Dirk, handing him the beer and a fork and knife. “Here, bro. Eat this.”
Dirk looked at the plate. The meat looked tough, the gravy had lumps of gingersnap cookies in it. He took a bite. The meat wasn’t too tough, but was too sour and salty. The gravy was terrible. The gnocchi was still hard in the middle.
Steve looked at him with a smile. “So?”
Dirk chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, washing it down with his beer. “Thank you, Nashy. Like my grandmother used to make.” Of course, Dirk never told him that his grandmother couldn’t cook at all.
Steve grinned. “I just wanted to be here with you tonight. I know you needed a friend.”
“I did. I do. Thank you.”
Steve sat on the sofa next to Dirk, as he methodically ate the beef masquerading as sauerbraten and the hard, lumpy gnocchi. Dirk smiled at his friend, ruffled his hair. He left after rinsing out his beer bottle and putting it into the recycling bin that he had purchased and given to Dirk for a housewarming present.
Still Dirk sat, staring at the plate that Nash had put in front of him, scarcely noticing that he had left the lights burning in the kitchen and living room. He felt strange, but he wasn’t sure if it was the heavy fake spatzle that Nash had made him eat, or that his heart was breaking in two.
----
The front door was unlocked when he got home. Funny; he locked it, didn’t he? The light was on in the kitchen, and he could hear the banging of pots and pans.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Dirk called out.
“Oh, hey, bro.”
“What are you doing here?” Dirk asked, his accent inexplicably thick, and he wasn’t sure if it was from being exhausted or emotional.
Steve stood at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling water. Beside him was a blue box of some sort of pasta, and a worn out skillet with a lid on it next to the pot, burner on low. “I got in this morning. It was going to be a surprise for you and the rest of the guys, for Game Seven. Listen, I know that you don’t want to hear this right now, but I’m really proud of you, man.”
“I didn’t even know you were in town.”
Steve opened the lid of the skillet and winced. He slammed it back down. “You weren’t supposed to, Dirk. That’s what surprise means.”
Dirk wearily sighed and hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter. “What are you making? Some sort of science experiment?”
“It’s supposed to be sauerbraten and spatzle.”
Dirk frowned. “And when did you start making this sauerbraten?”
Steve flipped through a stack of printed out pages, stained with red wine vinegar and meat juices. “Second quarter. I had hoped it would be a victory meal.”
“You do realize that sauerbraten takes a long time to make.”
Steve pulled out a drawer and rooted around, finding a bag of gingersnaps, pumping his fist with excitement. “Well, I don’t think it’s going to be like the sauerbraten that Silke makes. But I’m trying, damn it. Cut me some slack.”
Dirk’s curiosity took over, and he grabbed one of the blue boxes on the countertop. “What’s this? It’s not spatzle.”
“No, it’s gnocchi. I couldn’t find spatzle at the supermarket. Listen, this was all spur of the moment stuff, okay, Dirk? But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, grab yourself a beer and get me one, too.”
He did as he was asked, taking a Labatt’s out of the refrigerator for Steve and a Hacker-Pschorr for himself. He went into his living room and sat down in the dark, listening to Nashy crush gingersnaps and whisk them into the skillet. He could hear the gnocchi plop into the pot of boiling water, and Steve’s murmured curses as he heard the hiss of water that boiled over onto the stove’s burner.
Dirk wasn’t hungry. He just wanted to drink his beer and take his clothes off and go to bed. But Nash had done all of this for him, and he wanted to repay him, even if it meant eating what he knew would be an awful meal.
A half hour later, Nash flipped on the light, balancing a plate on one hand and another bottle of beer in the other. He sat the plate in front of Dirk, handing him the beer and a fork and knife. “Here, bro. Eat this.”
Dirk looked at the plate. The meat looked tough, the gravy had lumps of gingersnap cookies in it. He took a bite. The meat wasn’t too tough, but was too sour and salty. The gravy was terrible. The gnocchi was still hard in the middle.
Steve looked at him with a smile. “So?”
Dirk chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, washing it down with his beer. “Thank you, Nashy. Like my grandmother used to make.” Of course, Dirk never told him that his grandmother couldn’t cook at all.
Steve grinned. “I just wanted to be here with you tonight. I know you needed a friend.”
“I did. I do. Thank you.”
Steve sat on the sofa next to Dirk, as he methodically ate the beef masquerading as sauerbraten and the hard, lumpy gnocchi. Dirk smiled at his friend, ruffled his hair. He left after rinsing out his beer bottle and putting it into the recycling bin that he had purchased and given to Dirk for a housewarming present.
Still Dirk sat, staring at the plate that Nash had put in front of him, scarcely noticing that he had left the lights burning in the kitchen and living room. He felt strange, but he wasn’t sure if it was the heavy fake spatzle that Nash had made him eat, or that his heart was breaking in two.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 05:53 am (UTC)From:DAMN so Dirk still has feelings for him...and Nash has "moved on"? At least, in 2006, that's how I see their relationship (friendship :p) But there's that knowledge that he wanted to get to the finals with Steve and now it's only goign to be one of them, that's gotta be rough. Even though I know they don't talk about basketball with each other off the court, I feel like it might become an exception in this circumstance and they might hash through it, though perhaps just vaguely, ya know. Get the elephant in the room out of the way.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 11:25 pm (UTC)From:Exactly. In my fevered brain, Steve always thinks of Dirk as a good friend, almost a brother. And Dirk thinks of Steve as a good friend, but maybe more. Confusion reigns supreme. Remember I said that I think of Dirk's feelings as being unrequited.
And YES about Steve doing unnecessary stuff for Dirk! He takes care of him. Even in that most recent picture of those two after Game Two, you see Steve and Dirk together, and if you didn't know any better you'd think Steve had just given Dirk a bath or something. (GEEZ I DO NOT NEED TO THINK ABOUT THAT.)