"Hey!" T.K. called as he walked in the front door and kicked off his shoes. "Wow! Oh my god, what smells so good?"
Carlos smiled from where he stood by the stove, stirring something in a skillet with a wooden spoon. "Dinner," he said, pausing for a moment to give T.K. a kiss as he walked into the kitchen. "Camarones a la diabla."
T.K. raised his eyebrows. "Is that shrimp?"
"Shrimp with tomatoes, chiles, onions, and garlic."
"Ooh sounds spicy."
"It's very spicy," Carlos confirmed. "And delicious."
"Kind of like someone else I know," T.K. said, wrapping his arms around Carlos from behind and kissing his neck. Then he frowned. "Why do you have two skillets going?"
"I told you it's spicy," Carlos said. "I made yours with a little less heat."
"Excuse me?" T.K. said, withdrawing his arms and stepping back. "You think I can't handle some heat?"
"Oh," Carlos chuckled. "I know you can't."
"Um, hello?" T.K. said, hands spread wide with incredulity. "I'm a born and bred New Yorker. My palate is very diverse."
"Yeah, I know," Carlos said. "But this is an entirely different level of hot. Trust me."
T.K. leaned up against the counter mock hurt on his face. "I cannot believe you think I am too weak to eat your spicy shrimp."
"Not weak," Carlos assured him. "Just…not used to it. We need to build up your tolerance slowly."
"Build up my…Carlos," T.K. said, flashing him a charmingly sexy smile. "Come on. I think I know whether or not I can handle a little spice."
"And I think you're just a little bit too cocky for your own good," Carlos said, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose and then dodging past him to open the refrigerator.
T.K. spluttered in offense as Carlos began to fix a salad. "Cocky? I am not cocky. I am…appropriately confident."
"No I'm pretty sure you're cocky," Carlos said with a grin.
"What on earth makes you say that?" T.K. said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"T.K. you're a firefighter—"
"Former firefighter!"
Carlos nodded in concession. "Former firefighter. You used to run into burning buildings. You have to be a little cocky to do that."
"Okay, yes, but never once did that fail me. I survived unscathed," he caught the look Carlos sent his way and amended his statement, "mostly unscathed for my entire firefighting career. And being shot barely counts because that wasn't a fire call anyway. My dad is a firefighter, I was a firefighter, Carlos I was literally born to handle heat!"
Carlos put down the tongs he was using to toss the salad and took a step toward T.K. "You really think you can handle it?" His voice was low, eyes going heavy and dark.
"I don't think, I know I can," T.K. said, still annoyed.
Carlos stepped even closer, so the his hips bumped up against T.K.'s, effectively pinning him against the counter as he bent his head to speak quietly into his boyfriend's ear. "You think you can handle my heat?"
T.K. grinned, pleased by the new direction of the conversation. "I think I handled it pretty well last night."
Carlos bit his lip and nuzzled T.K.'s neck before abruptly pulling back. "You can't handle this kind of heat."
"Carlos!"
Their bickering persisted until dinner was on the table, Carlos still insisting on dishing them up from separate skillets as T.K. continued his protests.
"Just eat your gringo shrimp and be happy I made it for you," Carlos said as he set their bowls on the table. "Oh shit, I forgot the salad."
When he turned back he found T.K. leaning across the table, mouth already full of one bite, his fork digging into Carlos' bowl of shrimp and rice to get a second. "See?" T.K. said, after he swallowed. "I told you I could handle it. Babe this is amazing!"
He took a second bite and grinned. Carlos sighed, set down the salad bowl, and went for the fridge.
"What are you doing?" T.K. asked as he snagged yet another shrimp.
"Pouring you a glass of milk for about ten seconds from now when you realize that I'm always right and you should have listened to me."
"You just can't admit that you were…" T.K. trailed off and gave a little cough.
Carlos crossed his arms and waited. "Wow, okay, yeah that is actually a little," T.K. coughed again, "a little spicy."
"Oh really?" Carlos asked with a roll of his eyes. "A little spicier than you're used to?"
"I mean it's fine." T.K.'s face was starting to turn red. "I just…in a minute I'll—"
He choked, hands slamming into the table as the full effect of the chiles really took hold. "Oh my god! Holy shit!" he gasped.
"I told you," Carlos said him with a tone of long suffering as he uncapped the milk and poured it into a glass.
T.K. gagged, one hand going to his chest as the burning continued all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach. Carlos silently walked over and handed him the milk which he immediately began to chug, eyes bulging.
"Hey, hey, slowly," Carlos said, grabbing his wrist. "You're going to choke."
T.K. continued to cough and splutter as he drained the glass. Carlos had the good grace not to say anything as his boyfriend suffered, instead rubbing his back and wincing in sympathy every time his breath hitched or he gagged.
It took ten minutes before T.K. regained enough control of himself to speak. "I think I burned all my tastebuds off," he said hoarsely.
"You probably did," Carlos said, patting his shoulder. "But I think you'll live."
T.K. swallowed hard one hand rubbing at his chest. "There is no way you can eat that."
Carlos walked around to the other side of the table, making direct eye contact with T.K. as he dug his fork into his bowl and took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing with no problem. He held up his hands and raised his eyebrows.
"You're cheating," T.K. accused, eyes still watering.
Carlos snorted as he sat down and took another bite. "Seriously? Face it my love, you're just not on my level yet."
"That is like hell in a bowl," T.K. said. "You cannot possibly enjoy that."
"It's how my abuela always made it," Carlos said. "Been eating it like this my whole life."
"Well maybe your tastebuds are burned off and that's why you can't tell how hot it is," T.K. grumbled, letting out another small burp.
Carlos gave him a tolerating look. "Sure. That's probably it. Are you going to eat your dinner?"
"I can't taste anything anymore," T.K. complained but he took a bite anyway.
"Well maybe next time you'll listen to me and we can enjoy our meal without having to almost take you to the emergency room," Carlos said mildly.
T.K. glowered at him.
They finished dinner without further incident other than the occasional ominous rumble from T.K.'s stomach. They cleaned up quickly and then Carlos grabbed his book and went to sit on the couch in his usual spot. T.K. joined him, but rather than turning on the TV and beginning the typical nighttime routine he pulled the book from Carlos' hands and pushed him down into the couch. "What are we doing?" Carlos asked, eyes full of amusement.
"I'm sorry that I spoiled dinner," T.K. said, his face hovering inches from Carlos'.
"You didn't spoil dinner."
"Oh, so you don't want me to make it up to you then?"
Carlos laughed. "How exactly are you planning to do that?"
T.K. grinned. "You had your chance to be spicy, now it's my turn." He paused for a second. "That sounded sexier in my head."
"It was pretty terrible," Carlos agreed with a smile. "But I like where this is going."
"You aren't worried it's going to be too hot for you?" T.K. teased, leaning even closer.
"T.K.," Carlos laughed.
"You might like to get spicy in the kitchen, but I prefer my spice in the bedroom." T.K. nipped at Carlos' earlobe as his boyfriend continued to laugh. "I hope you're ready. Things are about to get muy caliente in this house."
"Wow, that is…beyond terrible," Carlos said, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
T.K. undid one of the buttons on Carlos' shirt, grinning like a fool. "Let me show you just how spicy I can really be."
"Oh my god, shut up," Carlos said, reaching up and pulling T.K. in for a deep kiss.
This was the type of heat they both could handle.