"Ah, definitely," J says, shaking his head. "I think I might be done." As tempting as it is to keep stuffing himself, he probably shouldn't. If nothing else, his stomach still isn't quite used to having this much to eat anymore. "And there's still a lot."

The thoughtfulness leaves his expression, though the pout remains, but it turns into a kind of a smile when he glances from the food back to S. "Of course I like that you have bad taste. It means I get to be with you." He suspects that, now that he's not eating — trying, at least, to keep himself from picking at food when he's not even hungry now — S will be done soon, too. But he's not about to get up and start putting things away until they're both sure they're finished. Instead, he's content to lean with an elbow on the table, watching S. It's cozy, just sitting like this together over a meal. They can't yet get through a day without tears, but they can eat dinner happily enough, and he's enjoying how comfortable it feels.