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Running a hand through his hair absently, Beau ran through the preparations one last time. Projector? Check. Couch? Vacuumed. Living room? Mostly clean. Food? Ready to go, or as close as it could be - the enormous bowl of batter was in front of him on the counter, studded with the most luscious blueberries Beau could hand-pick from the five pints he'd brought home. The rest were for snacking, sure, but these pancakes had to be perfect. He arranged the syrup and butter next to the bowl for the fifteenth time - couldn't make them until they were ready to eat or they'd get cold, but he might as well make sure he was ready for that point when it got here - if it got here.
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He'd even put some effort into his clothing, opting for a button-down shirt and dark jeans that, if he had to admit to himself, were probably nicer than anything Klaus had ever seen him in while they'd been out exploring. He'd even managed to tame his hair, with the aid of some kind of goop from his neighbor, into a neat swoop.
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The knock at the door brought him out of his reverie, and he almost stumbled as he dove for it, catching himself on the handle with a thump that his visitor was sure to hear from the outside. Picking himself up, he took a deep breath, smoothed the front of his shirt down, and opened the door.
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He caught sight of Klaus, and couldn't quite suppress the grin that appeared, his anxiety doing some kind of weird morphing trick and shifting into butterflies the minute he laid eyes on the man.
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"Oh, uh, hey! Come in!"

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"Whatever," Beau echoes absently, momentarily fixated on the shorter man. He knew he'd be coming, he thought he knew what to expect, but if absence makes the heart grow fonder, it's a wonder his wasn't currently trying to escape his chest. Or other things weren't trying to escape other places, he figures.
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He blinks, seeming to realize what exactly he'd said, then laughs nervously to cover the misstep. "Good to see you too, brah!" He blinks again at the mention of a movie, taking the DVD from Klaus and turning it over in his hands experimentally. Looks...horror-y. Not Beau's usual pick, for Reasons, but surely he can hold it together. He's been through worse. Yeah!
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Setting the DVD down on the coffee table, he follows Klaus's gaze and brightens immediately, striding over and slipping an arm around his shoulders. He points at the photo with his free hand, looking down at Klaus with a blinding smile. "Oh yeah! That was opening day for my gym in Slateport! Had to close it down when I got the pokemon Gym gig a while back, but those were some good times."
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Mood sufficiently buoyed, he maneuvers Klaus toward the kitchen. "Food first, bet you had a long night havin' ta get all the way over here after your shift." He finally releases his grip on the other man, pulling out a chair from the small table and indicating for Klaus to sit before he turns his attention to the pancakes, ladling batter into the hot pan with a satisfying sizzle.
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He may not always bat a thousand, but it at least looks (and smells) like he knows what he's doing on the stove.

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Oblivious to Klaus's distress, Beau went about the relatively quick and uncomplicated work of making breakfast. Butter sizzled in the skillet, a neat ladleful of batter made a mostly circular shape in the pan, and then it was all about watching for the bubbles and humming a little tune under his breath while he waited.
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Then he processed what Klaus had said, and when he flipped the pancake, it landed on the floor at his feet with a splat.
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"Shit!" he swore, snatching a towel from the oven handle and bending to wipe up the mess, managing to smear blueberries on the tiled floor in the process. Coming to his feet, he noted Klaus looking at him, glanced to the sink, chucked the sloppy towel into said sink, and immediately turned to busy himself with a replacement pancake.
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"Oh, y-yeah?" he asked too-brightly, the next ladleful of batter hitting the skillet with a bit more force than strictly necessary. "Well that, uh, that sucks, I guess." Supportive friend? Was that the move here?
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The pancake was flipped and transferred to a clean plate, and the next one sizzled in its place.
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"What, uh, what was so bad about it?"

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Beau shook his head vehemently, stacking the second pancake on top of the first with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "No way, brah, won't be another minute or two." And it wasn't. He didn't verbally respond for a few minutes, focused on making what undeniably appeared to be perfectly round, perfectly golden-brown, perfectly blueberry-studded pancakes.
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After the batter was depleted, he placed a plate in front of Klaus, the second plate opposite, and moved away again, returning with a stick of butter on a small holder and a bottle of syrup.
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"Dig in, dude, you look like you need it." He offered, not making a move to touch his own yet. "An'...sorry to hear about the date thing. If I'm supposed to be sorry about it."

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Beau grinned as Klaus tucked in, finally allowing himself to do the same. He polished off his pancakes with impressive - if predictable - speed, and decided he'd done alright.
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"I know it's really good," he laughed at Klaus's comment, "I told you it was. You should listen more," he winked. "And yeah, brah, you're welcome! Thanks for comin' all the way out here for it, least I could do."
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The mention of the movie gave him little pause, but it was a little pause. He dealt with this by collecting the dishes and stacking them mostly (surprisingly) neatly in the sink. "Yeah, sure," he offered, moving into the living room and picking up the DVD case. He turned it over in his hands experimentally, as though it would spontaneously transmute into an action movie or romantic comedy instead, but no.
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Still zombies and guts.
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Steeling himself - You asked for this, dummy. - he put the movie in and sat heavily on the couch, digging into the cushion with one hand to fish for the remote control. "You sure you got the time for it?"

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"Yeah, alright," Beau affirms with a nod of his head that he feels is particularly positive despite his misgivings - not about the company, but about the content. Klaus's presence on the couch is at least somewhat comforting as the title flashes across the large TV.
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Starting off, the movie isn't too bad, and Beau finds himself relaxing, nearly forgetting to be on edge for the trauma that will surely ensue with a title like that. It's two guys talking, he can handle that.
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He sneaks a glance at Klaus without turning his head, swallowing. Can he handle that?
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The camera on-screen zooms in to the opening of a dark bedroom, and from the shadows lurches a pus-infested, bloody creature that lunges straight for the viewer. Beau lets out a very manly high-pitched yelp and flails, grabbing Klaus instinctively and burying his face in the other man's shoulder.

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Beau doesn't register Klaus's words so much as the proximity of the other man, and comes to realize two things very quickly.
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One, he's awfully close without having asked permission, and judging by the fact that Klaus has looped an arm around him, it's too late for him to get out now without further awkwardness.
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Two, if he were to somehow extricate himself from this predicament, he'd be faced with having to deal with the damn movie by himself again, which could result in the same thing all over again. That wasn't really an ideal scenario either.
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Klaus's breath against his ear made him shiver, and while clearly his ear was in the way of Klaus's mouth, he couldn't really do much from this angle to correct his mistake or get his ear out of the way. He tried wiggling it to make sure it couldn't move on its own.
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No such luck.
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What was the right course of action? He turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open to regard the screen, which now depicted a gaggle of teenagers having a party. This seemed a little better, and he relaxed slightly from his position against Klaus.
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"I know," he rumbled sullenly against the other man. "'S just a movie."

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