Dinner wasn't extravagant - simple homemade tacos. Issac used ground turkey instead of beef, Greek yogurt instead of sour cream, low-fat feta cheese, and chopped salad mix instead of shredded lettuce. The only things “normal” with the tacos he made were the sliced tomato and flour tortillas.

What if Markus hated them? That made Issac pause. The guy looked like a badass biker. Did badass bikers eat turkey tacos? He set the platter of ten tacos on the butcher block island. Shit. No, calm down. He's a gamer. Gamers aren't known for being picky. Right? Issac cupped his elbow in his hand and placed the pad of his thumb on his lips as he thought. Maybe he should make a backup meal just in case?

“That smells amazing,” Ink said as he came down the stairs. His gait was funny, almost as if he was skipping down the stairs. It was hard to describe.

“Um, it's turkey tacos. I hope that's okay?” Issac moved his hand away from his mouth and moved to the short bar stools on the far side of the island.

“Are you kidding? I've been living off frozen entrees for months. My boss and his husband don't know how to cook, and neither do I. I feel like I've just been rewarded a mythic item drop from the last boss of an elite dungeon,” Markus took over one of the stools in a hurry as if the food would disappear if he didn't rush.

All the worry evaporated from Issac's head, and he laughed at how eager the man was. “You might not like it,” he warned, “I used a lot of alternatives. I'm always trying to eat healthier since I'm constantly on camera, but I try not to let it rule my life. Which is why these aren't lettuce wraps with no carbs. Eff that. Give me breads.”

Ink licked his lips as he stared wistfully at the platter of food, “It looks so good.”

Issac laughed again and grabbed the two empty plates he'd stacked nearby and handed one to Markus, “Here, help yourself.”

Ink eagerly reached for a taco but stopped before he touched anything and looked at his hands. Issac didn't see any dirt on the apparently offensive appendages, but Markus leaped up from the stool and ran to the sink. He quickly scrubbed his hands with soap and water, then dried them on the towel before he leaped back to his seat and grabbed a couple of tacos.

How had Issac thought that this man was scary? He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at how kid like the big bad Ink was acting. Then Markus took a bite and groaned low in his throat with appreciation, and that sound resonated through Issac. Damn. Yeah, not scary at all. Kind of hot, in fact.

“This is so good,” Ink said, and moisture accumulated in the man's eyes. No tears fell, but Issac could tell that the guy was having an emotional moment.

Issac stopped staring and grabbed for a couple of tacos, “Eat as much as you'd like.” He bit into the soft and tasty concoction and chewed.

His new roommate ate three tacos before Issac had the chance to eat one. The guy was inhaling them. He began to wonder if he made enough food.

Ink finished off seven of them, then sighed and mumbled, “So good.”

Issac swiped the last taco and munched on it while Markus sat and simply digested his meal. “Would you like something a little stronger than water as a chaser to your food?” He didn't drink often, but tonight seemed like a good time to have a little something extra. God knew he needed it.

With an elbow on the island and a fist against his chin, Ink contemplated the question. After a moment, he said, “I don't really like beer. I've never been much of a drinker, but I'm down if you have something else?”

After finishing his food, Issac took the two plates and the platter to the sink and quickly rinsed them, “I do. I have just the thing. Give me a moment.” He tucked the dishes into the dishwasher, then opened the cabinet above the sink. Issac pulled out a couple of rocks glasses and a blue labeled bottle of alcohol.

“This is blue corn whiskey. It has an interesting sweetness that reminds me of caramel. Perfect for after dinner. Would you like yours neat, straight, or on the rocks?” Issac asked with a grin.

“Uh... how it comes out of the bottle?” Ink brushed his fingers along his beard. He was obviously out of his comfort zone.

It was cute that this big burly dangerous-looking man had absolutely no clue about drinking. Not that the guy hadn't had drinks before, Issac was sure he had. There was no way he was an alcohol virgin. Just that he was such a noob at it, that he had no clue what the proper names were. “Good choice, neat it is.”

Issac poured them both a couple of ounces of whiskey, though it might have been a little more since he didn't measure it, and handed one over to Ink. Then, he waved the man to follow him into the living room. The blanket from earlier was long gone, but the giant crochet doll was still lying on the couch. Issac decided that he was keeping it for life. Little did that lady who made it know, but it was one of the few things that gave him comfort when the shit hit the fan. Issac wondered if that made him weird?

Markus swooped the doll up with his empty hand, “This is so cool! You have a mage!”

That made Issac feel a lot less weird, “A fan made it for me. It's a copy of my main toon.”

“I want one,” Ink said pensively.

Issac grinned, “I can probably get you one, but you have to do a few video streams with me.” He sat down on one end of the couch, his back resting against the arm, and one knee bent and up on the seat, his foot crooked under the knee of his other leg.

“Done!” Ink pointed at Issac with the hand holding the glass of whiskey.

The programmer sat at the other end of the couch and tucked the doll into his lap. It was so adorable that Issac found that he had to look away. His eyes wandered the room, and he took a large sip of his drink. The vlogger was beginning to think that Ink was dangerous again. Just... dangerous in a different way. He cleared his throat and took another sip, trying not to focus on how appealing he was beginning to find the man sitting in front of him.