Potatoes.

Vincent Chase had done a lot of things to impress girls. Not that it usually took much – the bat of his long dark lashes, a meaningful smile, the slight nod of a head – to get him what he wanted. He had sent flowers, lavished them with gifts, took them on romantic weekends halfway across the world. He had used lines from his movies to get them in bed, his VIP connection to apologize and his name to get them to look his way in the first place. All of that was easy to him. It came naturally to just use his charm to get what he wanted.

However, what wasn't easy for him was actually having to work to impress someone. It felt like he had been working his whole life to impress his best friend. Eric Murphy's opinion not only mattered to him more than anyone else's in the world, it often mattered to Vince more than his own. From the time they were six and Eric told him that he was stupid for liking Spiderman more than Batman, Vince had been working hard to impress E. Superheros and bicycles had been replaced by multi-million dollar movie deals and sports cars, but the sentiment was the same. Eric was still the center of Vince's universe.

"Johnny, are you sure I can' t just buy him another car?" Vince asked tersely as he blew his dark locks out of his eyes. He had been slaving over a hot stove for hours, working diligently with his Nazi of a brother to make a dinner that he wasn't sure was going to be even edible at this point. It had started out as a simple way to impress Eric rather than his usual protocol for attracting someone. Between Johnny's lack of patience and Vince's incompetence in the kitchen, it was pretty much a disaster. "I mean, I know that he really liked the Maserati and the Aston when I got those for him before..."

Johnny grimaced at his brother as he corrected his whipping technique. "C'mon, Baby Bro," Johnny told him proudly as he helped make dinner, "everybody knows that mashed potatoes are the way to E's heart."

It was true. The first girl that had ever been worthy of E's love, his own mother, had set the standard for mashed potatoes when they were kids. Over the years, E had devised a little-known test. If a girl could make good mashed potatoes, E knew that she was worth keeping around. Sloan had made amazing mashed potatoes. E still talked about them sometimes.

Vince tried to pretend to listen as Johnny went over the finer nuances of milk-to-butter ratios but found his mind drifting off. There were a pair of steaks marinating in the fridge, which he would grill just before E came over. Johnny had gone over blanching broccoli and helped him make the rolls from scratch. They'd managed to make E's favorite pie, complete with fresh whipped cream. There was a bottle of red on the counter, and Vince had even gone shopping on his own for new place settings special for tonight's dinner. Turtle had helped in his own way by sending over some flowers and a couple of candles from a little floral boutique just down the hill from the house. He had been smart enough to stay away from the house, though, preferring to hang out with some cute girl he'd met at the UCLA library last week.

"Alright, you think you got everything?" Drama asked two hours later, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow before throwing his stained apron on the counter. Vince nodded as he moved the steaks onto the clean plates. E would be here any minute. "Good luck, Bro. I know that you need tonight to go well. Let me know tomorrow if I need to kick E's ass for breaking your heart."

Vince pounded his brother's fist gratefully just as he heard the garage door go up. Johnny made himself scarce quickly, sneaking out the back so that he could go undetected. Vince's hands were actually shaking as Eric came into the living room, completely unaware of what was about to go down. "Yo!" E called as he came into the kitchen. "Wow, where's Drama? This smells amazing."

"I, uh, made it," Vince stuttered. He felt ridiculous as he brought over the rest of the food to the table. He was usually so smooth, but watching E stand there, with his wide eyes and rumpled collar and tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, it was just too much. "Sit down, take a load off. Stay awhile even. I made us some dinner."

"You made this?" Eric asked skeptically. He poked his fork at the steak while Vince poured them each a goblet of the expensive Bordeaux he knew Eric loved. He smiled at Vince happily as he took a long swill of the red wine. "Vin, this is kind of amazing."

Vince smiled affectionately as he carried the bread back to the table. "Glad you think so," he retorted, resting his hand on E's shoulder briefly before going back to the kitchen for the mashed potatoes. He heard Eric's breath hitch just slightly as he sat the bowl in the middle of the table. Vince had to admit that he was pretty proud of himself then. There were perfect little white peaks in the creamy potato, and Johnny had promised him that they would be good enough. "I made your favorite."

"I see that," Eric replied nervously. They had been doing this – being more than business and more than friends – for a month now. Only the guys knew, and they didn't even really talk about it to them. Vince knew that E worried that he was just fucking around, but it was more than that for him. It had been more than that for three decades, and it would be more than that for at least the next three. That's what tonight was about. That was the whole reason he made those damn potatoes in the first place. "What's the occasion?"

"Just thought I would do something nice for my boy-...for you," Vince retorted. He'd almost said the word out loud. He'd never said that before. He'd only really had one person he considered his significant other, and Mandy was married to some whiny indie rock guy now. This time mattered so much more. "Eat up, I don't want it to get cold. I worked really hard."

The two of them made quiet conversation as they ate. Vince was mostly silent, finding himself watching Eric's little reactions more than he was talking or eating himself. E didn't seem to mind as he smiled up at him over the edge of his wine glass or held his fork up in toast. Only the mashed potatoes sat untouched on his plate so far. It was pure torture. Finally, when he had speared the last bit of steak, E sat his fork down next to his dish and picked up his spoon. Vince leaned forward slightly in anticipation. Eric licked his lips before taking the spoon in his mouth. He seemed to consider the food thoughtfully before swallowing.

"Good."

Vince looked at him in disbelief. "Good? Really? That's all you have to say?"

"Yeah," Eric smiled. "They're good."

"I worked all day to make those mashed potatoes, and you're just calling them good."

"Yup," Eric retorted shortly, smiling at Vince proudly as he scooped another bite into his mouth. They ate the rest of the meal and dessert in silence. Vince was disappointed and Eric was smug. It wasn't a pretty combination. "Do you want me to help?" Eric asked as Vince stood to clear the table, but he only shook his head. He just wanted this to be over.

Vince leaned against the counter as he deposited the plates in the sink. He tried to ignore the way Eric's voice was repeating "Good" over and over again in his head as he looked out across the backyard at the sparkling lights of Los Angeles below. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

"You could have made me mashed potatoes from a box and I would have loved them," Eric whispered against his temple as he came up behind Vince, wrapping his arms around him. It shouldn't have worked because of their height difference, but E seemed to fit Vince in a way that no one else ever had. "You didn't need to make a fancy dinner or the perfect gourmet mashed potatoes. I would have loved them because you made them for me. I would have loved them because they were yours."

He turned around in Eric's arms and looked down at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Vin," he promised. "Don't you know that by now?"

Vince thought for a moment before he nodded. He did know that. "It's just nice to hear sometimes."

"They were the best mashed potatoes I've ever had," Eric whispered. "You didn't just pass the test. With you, I didn't even need the test."

Vince wouldn't fully understand that little comment until hours later, after they'd made love and eaten pie in bed while watching reruns of Viking Quest and making fun of Drama. "Wait, you love me?" he asked, keeping one eye glued to the screen as his brother wielded an ax and the other peering out of Eric in his periphery.

"Yeah, you moron, that's what I meant earlier."

"Oh, cool," Vince replied, reaching across Eric to flick off the television.

"Hey, I was watching that!" E snapped playfully as Vince crawled over his body. "Oh..."

"Yeah, I didn't get enough to eat earlier," Vince grinned. "I think I'm hungry for seconds."