Oh man... Josh is ridiculously glad he took the edge off when he catches sight of Dwayne, because sharp as he'd looked in the suit, dressed down for the evening in t-shirt and sweats he's possibly even more distracting. If he actually thought there was a god he'd be really tempted to think he was a sadistic bastard and was screwing with him for fun, the way Dwayne nails a pretty solid cross-section of his competence kink, his thing for gingers of either sex, and his marked preference for big guys.

It's a welcome relief to be able to head straight for the kitchen and distract himself with the easy routine of getting dinner started, and he rummages around until he comes up with a pot for the pasta and a big skillet for the meat and sauce. He's not any kind of gourmet, but he's been functionally on his own for most of his life, and spaghetti's something he can throw together pretty much on auto-pilot. "So, what are the odds I'm gonna get a chance to make myself useful any time soon?" he asks once he's got the ground beef and sausage browning and water on to boil for the pasta. "Versus, y'know, just cooling my heels and staying out of the way?" Because, really, that's a lot more important than how distracting Dwayne's forearms are, and he's going to get, and stay, on track, dammit.