Maddy

I got to Steve’s place at around 5 pm, even though the game night wasn’t supposed to start until 7. I wanted to help him set up and cook–I felt a little bad about how he always cooked for and fed me and I never returned the favor–plus it meant I got to spend a little extra time alone with him, which was always nice. Not in a horny way, to be clear. I just… got stressed out a lot around people who weren’t Steve, so it was nice to have just me and him sometimes.

“You know, most people would probably order pizza,” I commented as Steve fished a large bowl full of risen dough out of the fridge.

“Yeah, but I wanted to try this recipe! You let the dough cold ferment in the fridge for at least a day or two. It’s supposed to help develop the flavor and texture.”

“Alright, nerd. Cooking nerd. Is this from one of those YouTubers you watch?”

Steve plopped the bowl down on the counter. “Well, it’s sort of a mixture of a few recipes, but yeah. Also, it’s a great excuse to use the pizza oven.”

“I still can’t believe you just, like, built a frickin’ brick pizza oven in your backyard. Who does that?”

“Well, I had some help,” Steve said. “And it’s not that hard, really. Oh, speaking of which, I gotta go get the fire started. Uh, can you grate this mozz?”

“Sure thing, boss,” I said, and saluted. “I’ll try and do a… grate job.”

Steve snickered a bit.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually laughed at that. I’ll make sure to make more, uh, cheesy puns in the future.”

“Please do,” Steve said. “One of my friends who’s coming for game night loves awful puns, actually. Hopefully we can get some wordplay in with the gameplay. Anyway, sorry, let me go get that fire going and I’ll be back in a mo.”

I watched him walking away for a moment. It was silly if I kinda missed him after he’d only been gone for a few seconds, right? Anyway I wanted to pull my weight around here so I got to grating.

I was just finishing up the big block when Steve returned. “Oh, hey, that should be enough,” he said upon seeing the pile of cheese on the plate below the grater. I stopped, still holding a little nub of mozzarella.

“You want this?” I asked.

Steve shook his head. “Traditionally the remaining cheese goes to the one who grated. I mean, unless you don’t want it.”

“Hmm, yeah, I don’t think that’s a real tradition. Also, of course I want it. I love cheese!”

“Imminently understandable,” Steve said solemnly. “Although that reminds me: one of the people coming is a vegan, so we’re gonna have to make a cheeseless pie. Probably just gonna go with tomato sauce and basil and maybe a little bit of a spicy honey drizzle.”

“Spicy honey?” Was that a thing?

‘Yes, dear? Are you saying you find me hot?” Steve said.

I groaned. “Booo.”

“You love it,” Steve said, grinning at me.

I relented. “I do.” I gave him a quick kiss. “Alright, so what’s the plan for the sauce?”

“Oh, you know I got me some canned San Marzanos. Product of Italy and everything.”

“I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s some kind of fancy tomato?”

“Yep!” Steve said. “And honestly, most of the sauce is just going to be that, plus some oregano. And a little bit of garlic, red pepper flakes, sugar, salt, and pepper. I might add anchovy except vegan, and I think it’s easier to just make up one type of sauce. Anyway, thanks, Chef John of Food Wishes dot com.”

“You sure love that guy,” I commented. “Seriously, you’re such a massive dork. Before I met you I didn’t even realize people could be coffee nerds or pizza nerds.“

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Steve said.

I kissed him again. “It was.”