Ken makes a fist with his free hand, and under his breath he says, "Yes, date night." Then he sips more drink before continuing, at regular volume, "Yeah. Totally cool to use it."
That means he just has to kill maybe seven or eight hours, and two of those hours will absolutely be getting ready and figuring out what to wear, so that's not bad! Maybe he can convince Allan to take a nap with him and then they'll just have, like, three hours to fill.
Allan mirrors Ken's free-hand fist perfectly at the permission to get a guaranteed swanky seat, complete with a muttered 'yesss.' It's difficult considering both of his hands are full but he manages to do it. The miracle of Allan.
He takes a sip, sets the drink down and allows his fingers to absently roam on Ken, touching at his shoulder idly as he makes the uick phone call. It's awkward and stilted but he still manages to get it done. Again, the miracle of Allan. He hangs up and his phone joins the drink on the coffee table, which means Allan has an extra hand to card absently through Ken's short hair, massaging his scalp.
Any linger tension leaves Ken at the feeling of fingers in his hair (which only Allan is allowed to mess up). He lets out a pleased sigh before sipping back half of his drink and getting only a slight brain freeze.
“Yeah. It’s just … Home, you know?” All the other models are always so excited to travel, but Ken would love nothing more than to just work out of Southern California. “All of our stuff is there.”
"Yeah I wanna eat lunch and nap," Allan says automatically, because it's what Ken wants to do and Allan can honestly think of nothing better than curling himself onto Ken's incredibly sculpted and warm chest on a day with a dreary, cloudy sky.
He leans forward, pants Ken's knee, and gets up. Drinks are nice but food is nicer--he's not going to complain if Ken follows him into the fridge, either. They have to have something. Allan's not the world's best cook and the majority of restaurants they hit are astounding in number, but it's always a neverending whirlwind of fun with Ken and it's easy to forget to do things like learn how to make more than a grilled cheese.
Speaking of... He's already pulling the little plastic slices out of the little bag.
Ken gets up and follows, like a lost puppy trailing after a human its attached itself to. He doesn't really care what lunch is. Allan could slap a piece of ham between two slices of bread and that could be lunch. It drives Ken's personal trainers crazy that he's always eating out or ordering in, but he's also apparently genetically blessed to be able to stay ripped with his morning workouts and less than stellar diet. The compromise is that his morning pre-workout snack and his breakfast are nutritionally dense for maximum performance and recovery (they get those premade and delivered with a food prep company). Everything else? Totally fair game as long as he gets some good protein and veggies at dinner.
He leans against the counter in a way that looks like he's advertising pajama pants in the pages of Vanity Fair.
"Well ... I need something nice for dinner." Because it's date night and nice restaurants usually want you to look nice and Ken wants to look nice for Allan. "But I also wanna be able to rollerskate." The dilemma. He hums as he thinks through what he brought.
"Oh! The nice black jeans and maybe that pink polo shirt with the white collar?" And the impossibly deep v-neck. "I can throw a jacket over it for dinner."
He'll still probably change outfits at least five times before circling back to his original plan.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That means he just has to kill maybe seven or eight hours, and two of those hours will absolutely be getting ready and figuring out what to wear, so that's not bad! Maybe he can convince Allan to take a nap with him and then they'll just have, like, three hours to fill.
no subject
He takes a sip, sets the drink down and allows his fingers to absently roam on Ken, touching at his shoulder idly as he makes the uick phone call. It's awkward and stilted but he still manages to get it done. Again, the miracle of Allan. He hangs up and his phone joins the drink on the coffee table, which means Allan has an extra hand to card absently through Ken's short hair, massaging his scalp.
"...It always feels weird being away from LA."
no subject
Any linger tension leaves Ken at the feeling of fingers in his hair (which only Allan is allowed to mess up). He lets out a pleased sigh before sipping back half of his drink and getting only a slight brain freeze.
“Yeah. It’s just … Home, you know?” All the other models are always so excited to travel, but Ken would love nothing more than to just work out of Southern California. “All of our stuff is there.”
Why does New York have to be so grey?
He glances up at Allan.
“Wanna eat lunch and nap?”
no subject
He leans forward, pants Ken's knee, and gets up. Drinks are nice but food is nicer--he's not going to complain if Ken follows him into the fridge, either. They have to have something. Allan's not the world's best cook and the majority of restaurants they hit are astounding in number, but it's always a neverending whirlwind of fun with Ken and it's easy to forget to do things like learn how to make more than a grilled cheese.
Speaking of... He's already pulling the little plastic slices out of the little bag.
"You know what you're gonna wear?"
no subject
He leans against the counter in a way that looks like he's advertising pajama pants in the pages of Vanity Fair.
"Well ... I need something nice for dinner." Because it's date night and nice restaurants usually want you to look nice and Ken wants to look nice for Allan. "But I also wanna be able to rollerskate." The dilemma. He hums as he thinks through what he brought.
"Oh! The nice black jeans and maybe that pink polo shirt with the white collar?" And the impossibly deep v-neck. "I can throw a jacket over it for dinner."
He'll still probably change outfits at least five times before circling back to his original plan.