Doug & Wade | Saturday Afternoon (backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Doug and Wade continue their scrumptious odyssey through the Deli-CAT-essen menu.


Wade eyed the plate of food in front of him, squinted a bit, checked the angle of the light coming through the window near his booth in the back of Catseye's deli, shifted the plate slightly to the left, rotated it a little to the right, and then raised his phone to take a picture. Having snapped the perfect photographic evidence of the magnificence of his meal, he shot off a quick text to Doug, as he was wont to do, informing his friend of the superiority of his lunch as opposed to the other man's.

A soft chirruping child's voice exclaimed "We're having soft tacos later!" from across the table. A few moments later, a reply text from Doug appeared on Wade's screen. I'm sitting RIGHT ACROSS THE TABLE, dorkface. After enough time for Wade to read it, Doug snorted in fond amusement at his friend's antics. "I thought your lunch was my lunch and vice versa, since we ordered one of everything?"

"Pssh," Wade said, sliding his phone into its little pouch on his belt. "Mine's still better." He reached for his fork and knife, hooking a plate with his pinkie and pulling it toward him. Slicing into the challah French toast, seasonal compote, maple syrup, and butter confection, he took a bite. "Holy shit, you have to try this, it's delicious."

"Well, if you'd pass it over, I could..." Doug reached over the table, batted Wade's hand away, and took the plate in question. So far everything had been amazing - Catseye's entire menu was full of deliciousness top to bottom.

"We are splitting that, Ramsey," Wade began, pointing his fork at the younger man, before remembering he could just order another plate. "Wait, nevermind. Enjoy. I'm going to eat some of the borchst. Mm. Beef and cabbage." Before going for the bowl, though, he pulled his phone out again to snap another picture so he could send it to Doug. Consistency was important for a healthy, growing kind of friendship.

"Still here," Doug said, his mouth full of French toast, so it came out more like 'hrill er'. But he was pretty sure Wade spoke fluent talk-with-your-mouth-full. Fishing out his own phone, he snapped a picture of Wade with his mouth overfull of borscht. The older man's categorical inability to not smile like a giant goof in a picture worked to Doug's advantage, making a particularly ridiculous snapshot.

Wade just kept on grinning. "God, I think this is my new favorite restaurant. We are coming here every week. Twice. Twice every week."

"It's a good thing we have the money for it," Doug observed. Not that he was objecting to the plan, oh no. Catseye had outdone herself with the food, for certain. Bigots aside, she was going to do quite well, in his opinion.