Angelo | John - Wednesday Evening

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"We're consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra." -Tyler Durden-

"How do you even pronounce this shit?" HEMNES. LEIRVIK. MALM. LEKSVIK. The names were a killer. John stared at one of the price tags. $399 for a SULTAN FINNVIK foam mattress. He raised his brows at Angelo. "Improves blood circulation, has five comfort zones to help relieve pressure from hips and shoulders, bla bla bla." Now would be a good time to walk away. Walk away and never know what it would feel like to sleep on one of these babies. Only too late.

John lay back on it and grinned.

"Now Skinny, you gotta feel this. I think I'm in seventh heaven."

"If you make me buy you the damn mattress, you get to clean the kitchen for six months", Angelo warned him.  "But yeah, those high-end ones always feel good."

"I don't even use the kitchen, man. That ain't fair." John added the mattress to the list of things they would consider purchasing once they'd made their rounds and pointed to the duvet. "This I gotta have." Not that he'd been sleeping much lately but that was the point. If he had the perfect bed and all of his creature comforts he was sure he'd be able to go back to his old ways. Gone were the days when he'd spend eighteen hours asleep in a day and boy did he miss those times.

"What's wrong with the one you got?  Or what's so special about that one?"

"Dude, you move into a new place, you throw the old stuff out. Besides, this has double the thread count." He got up and headed to the Kitchen area, hoping to get Angelo off his back.

John let out a smirk as he stood next to a built-in-kitchen cabinet. "Whaddya know? We're in your turf now. Go crazy."

"All right, but you want the duvet, it's your money."  He glanced at the cabinet.  "Find me one with spice racks an' a decent stove an' I'm good.  Fitted kitchen, y'think?"

"You're the expert." John was checking out the coffee making machines. They needed to get one. He didn't think he could survive without his daily coffee intake. "Any chance we could just steal the microwave oven from Xavier's? You know the one in our old suite? I doubt anyone would miss it." John needed that for days when Angelo wasn't around to cook.

Dependent much?

"Fitted kitchen it is.  An' no, we can't steal the microwave.  I'll get you a better one."  He eyed the coffee makers speculatively.  "An' one of those too."

"We can't steal the microwave? Didn't you grow up in 'da hood'?" John chuckled. "Look, we'll charge it on both our credit cards. Don't want you starving to death next month on account of spending all of your money at IKEA."

"We're not goin' to steal the microwave", Angelo amended firmly, then nodded.  "Sounds fair.  But you were the one insisted on comin' to IKEA, firebug."

"Yeah, for the Swedish meatballs." He grinned. "And now I'm starving. Let's take a break."

"Okay.  Swedish meatballs in the cafe it is.  But then we have to come back an' pick a kitchen, unless I'm really doin' that without you."

John shook his head. "I'm thinking we should get the good sales assistant to point us in the direction of some fireproof cabinets. Maybe they'll let me put it to the test." He already had his lighter out. The constant click clacking of the lid was music to his ears. John was such a pyromaniac. It was sometimes difficult to quell the urge to burn things. Food was a good distraction though.

"Lighter in the pocket, John", Angelo said levelly, eyes on that hand.  "An' I'll dig you a firepit when we get home if you promise you won't light anythin' on fire here.  C'mon, let's eat."

"Such a worry wart, Ange. It's not like I'm going to get us into any trouble. We've learned our hard lesson, right?" Two years ago during a road trip, John got them into a bar fight, torched half the place and they got put behind bars - after which Nathan then proceeded to yell a lot.

Good times.

John didn't keep his lighter away but stopped playing with it once they reached the cafeteria.

"Any plans for tonight?"

"Nothin' in particular", he said, relaxing again.  "You got anythin' in mind?"

"Was thinking of dropping by a secondhand bookstore. I need to get hold of a book."

"Any particular book, or just whatever catches your eye?"

"Uh... A little of both, I guess." He moved into line and handed Angelo a tray.  John wanted to get Jean-Paul that book he'd asked him about: A Few Figs from Thistles by Edna St. Vincent Millay. The guy at the bookstore said they had a 1922 edition of the book and John thought that would be perfect. "So we'll go, alright?"

"Sure, we'll go", Angelo agreed easily.  "Soon as we're done here, so we catch them still open."