{CO} Out of Summertime

[Matt Wilson]

See, if you were going to go to a cookout, you needed to volunteer to be the one wearing the grilling apron. Because that gave you control over the food. Now, technically speaking, Matt happened to be one of a handful of volunteers: mostly staff, but at least one parent that he remembered helping move in and all. But Matt happened to have some experience with the whole grilling thing, and most of the kitchen staff was worried about rotating the side dishes, so he had at least some control over his little area.

Which also meant that he had control over the meat. Now, given that he was, in fact, a grillmaster (or at least temporarily one), he naturally had to grill the manliest thing he could grill. So he'd found some really good steaks that he'd gotten a good deal on from his meat guy, and he'd dragged them along to this shindig. Every staffer he could catch, he gave one. Except he couldn't remember seeing one just yet.

So he'd stopped for a moment, before he got his own done, and instead went to seek out his old "drinking" buddy. Didn't take long to find Ethan Parks : guy was near the table and about to eat a hot-dog. "No, you put that down right now!" Matt said, "and you get your ass over here," Matt waved, jerking his head for the other guy to follow.

[Ethan Parks]

Ethan could not have been more in his element at this cookout. Grilled food, good or bad? Sign Ethan up. He was about to chow down on a hotdog when a booming voice made him almost drop his food.

His head whipped to where the voice was coming from and saw Matt waving him over. He looked back down at his hotdog and then back at Matt with a slight pout. "But I just sat down."

[Matt Wilson]

"No, no, don't make me slap that outta your hand, boy," Matt said, raising a finger up and pointing it at Ethan. "You leave that crap for the teenagers and get your all too pretty butt over here."

Matt waved his arms a few more times, feeling very much like an air traffic controller or a herder or something along those lines. If the young man kept it up then Matt would seriously end up going over and smacking that hot dog out of his hand and physically picking up the other guy.

it would not be the first time.

[Ethan Parks]

"Matt, that talk is really boosting my ego. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were just trying to get into my pants." He joked but actually did leave his hotdog on the table before pushing it to the kid nearest to him who devoured it like a wolf. "Yeesh." Ethan grimaced before walking over to Matt.

"Okay I'm here. What do you need?" He asked, looking around.

[Matt Wilson]

"I couldn't fit in your pants without a lot of dancin' an' a half a stick of butter," Matt drawled without a bit of a stop. The older guy was in pretty good shape for his age (really good shape, really), but he knew better than to try to argue with someone who literally did activities and sports for his profession. Matt's involved drinking lots and lots of beer. Not a contest there.

The gesturing and the calling had finally worked. When Ethan got close enough, Matt flung an arm around him, pulling him close. "Right, so you know how you were going to take up your stomach with that crap?" Matt paused, then grinned. "What do you think about havin' a perfectly cooked steak of your own?"

[Ethan Parks]

"Matt, stop charming me. You're going to give me a complex." Ethan waved a hand in Matt's direction and simpered. Yeah, that was a little overkill but they seemed to have that kind of relationship now. He thought it was quite appropriate.

He leaned into Matt's hold easily and frowned up at the much taller man when he dissed Ethan's hotdog. "That was a brat, bro. That wasn't crap." He responded before lighting up at the thought of eating steak.

"Ooh. Gimme. Are you gonna teach me how to grill, young uncle?"

[Matt Wilson]

Matt snorted at Ethan's comment, let alone the thought of the young man "getting a complex." Ethan reminded Matt a lot of the guys back home, and the guys who'd volunteered to be in the army for the sake of protecting people. Those kinda purehearted types often had balls of steel, but it didn't make them any less difficult to corrupt.

"Well, then it was probably halfway decent," Matt conceded. He'd seen the brats that they'd ordered, and it was definitely top of the line stuff. Technically even the burgers and dogs were better than most schools would've put out for something like this. But neither stood up to what Matt had to offer.

"You mean you don't know how?" Matt asked. "Seriously? I thought you were an adult. Your balls have dropped, haven't they?" Matt snorted again, before moving over to where he'd stored the steaks, looking around for a bit. Then he pulled two impressive slabs of meat out of the cooler. "Ain't they pretty? Gave 'em a rub an' got 'em good an' ready for today," Matt sighed and rubbed his hand along it, still loving just the look of it, and he'd already cooked a few, so he knew they would turn out damn good.

[Ethan Parks]

"Halfway...come on you own a bar. You have to have known those brats were magnificent. I wouldn't know. I didn't get to eat it." He narrowed his eyes playfully at Matt before rolling them sort of in protest.

Although he really couldn't help playing along. He squirmed around a little before sheepishly grinning up at the much taller man. "I can't feel them. Am I supposed to?"

His eyes went back down and when he saw the steaks, he practically purred at the sight. "Ooh. They'll have to buy me dinner first if I wanna rub them down good." He said before looking around for a tap to wash his hands. "Don't wanna give myself salmonella or anything." He chuckled and went to wash his hands.

When he came back, he wiggled his fingers and looked around for the spices. "Are we doing a bareback or are we actually putting some spices on these?"

[Matt Wilson]

Matt just gave him another tired look and pointed. "You want to go waste your gut space on crap that ain't steak, you go right on ahead. Ain't nobody gonna stop you," Matt was about ready to give the other guy a smack, settling, at least for the moment, on snorting and shaking his head. The steaks had already been gotten out, and he could practically hear the purr.

"Yup, got a deal from my meat guy," Matt said, nodding at them. "Prime cuts: benefit of bein'---" Matt paused, realizing that Ethan had walked away. "Kids these days," he murmured, before getting his own steak on a plate and beginning to add the last few bits of seasoning. Matt had his own spice rub that he used, though it was a pretty generic one with mostly just a lot of salt and pepper and a few other basics.

"These babies," he said as Ethan came back and talked, "have been sitting in a marinade and tenderizin' for long enough to practically slide off, an' they're made of grade A Montana beef. So you'd better treat them right an' I swear if you reach for the sauce ain't gonna be no warnin'. You're jus' gonna feel my hand upside your head an' start talkin' to your momma."

[Ethan Parks]

"You literally stopped me just minutes ago." Ethan pointed out with a raised eyebrow before chuckling and shaking his head. All in good fun. He would so rather have a steak than a hot dog anyway.

"How is it that I've met so many people who keep getting the best deals out of these grocers? Can I just like throw your name around at the grocery store hopin' for a discount?" He asked with a grin.

Chuckling when Matt warned him about putting any other sauce on a perfectly good marinated piece of steak, Ethan rolled his eyes and looked at Matt like he was an amateur. "Come on, let's do this thing."

And he made quick work on the steaks.

[Matt Wilson]

"Don't sass me, boy," Matt replied, pointing at the young man. He did actually see Ethan's point and all, but, well, again: don't sass. Just roll with it. Matt didn't know what the next bit was about or something, and he had to chuckle, shaking his head. "My name'll get you thrown outta most places," he said, only half-joking. "I got a meat guy 'cuz I run a joint in town."

Matt also happened to have several booze guys too, but that definitely just came with the territory. He did sometimes get groceries and such from local stores: they had a few around here that could get you some good stuff. But when you owned a business like Matt did, you had to make connections with people that sold in bulk. Hence the slabs of cow that Matt now cautioned Ethan against butchering further.

"Better do the thing right," Matt warned again. He then went to work on the meat, moving with the practiced skill of someone who'd spent more than their fair share of time grilling and handling meat. It didn't take long for the meat to look brilliant, "now we jus' throw it on the grill," he said, literally picking one up and giving it a light toss, "an' wish that this weren't a dry event."