Chapter Text
The rain comes quick and heavy that night.
The weather portion of the local news takes up over half of the hour block; Jake watches, only half-way paying attention, as their weatherman stands on a corner made blurry by the rain shouting into a microphone about rapidly dropping temperatures and flash flood warnings. The weatherman’s pinkened face is only just visible beneath the bright blue station-branded raincoat cinched tight around his torso, and somewhere behind him, Amy’s making tacos.
(They’ve been engaged a month and Charles has insisted on giving them both cooking lessons so they don’t up and kill each other once they’re legally husband and wife, and even though Amy’s got a long way to go just to catch up to where Jake started, he’d be lying if he said she didn’t make some seriously good tacos.)
Her voice made jagged with irritation sails clearly over the thunder cracking outside their windows, and for the first time since he sat down here two hours ago Jake cranes his head around to peer into the kitchen. She’s stood before the stove where a pan of something he can’t quite see is sizzling, hands on her hips, hair thrown up in a messy bun starting to come unraveled in those crazy fly-away tufts he loves so much. “Babe?” he calls hesitantly.
(He loves her more than life itself but she might have a slight tendency to bite his entire head off when she’s frustrated.)
“I forgot the seasoning when I went to the store earlier,” she says without looking around, and the way she says is the way he would expect to hear her say she’d forgotten to respond to an invitation to tea with the Queen. He almost laughs.
Almost.
“Aw, hon, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’ll just go get some from the bodega around the corner.”
She’s halfway to the door before he processes what she’s saying. “Wait - you’re going outside?”
She pauses, an outstretched hand gripping her raincoat where it hangs on a hook by the door. “Yeah?”
“Ames, it’s -” he gestures to the television, where the Doppler Radar shows a brightly-colored red-hued blob moving swiftly through New York City. “It’s like Day After Tomorrow out there right now. You can’t just go walk to the bodega to get some taco seasoning -”
She scoffs. “Says you, wimp.” He falls back into the cushions, dead-panned, as she shrugs her jacket on and zips the zipper up to her chin. “Keep an eye on the meat and don’t let anything burn.”
“Fine, but if you’re freezing cold when you get back here, I’m not gonna cuddle with you. I don’t care how much you look like a drowning kitten.”
Hands slide up over the curves of each shoulder, and then the heat of her face washes over the right side of his face. “You’ll cuddle with me and you’ll love it.” she whispers directly in his ear.
His resistance is only momentarily successful. “Your toes are gonna be so cold on my legs…” he sighs, before turning his head and briefly closing his eyes.
It’s more of a peck than a kiss, but his heart flutters all the same. “I’ll be right back,” she says as she backs toward the door. “And don’t forget about watching the food!”
(She’s even colder than he imagined she’d be when she returns ten minutes later, and even though they eat while huddled together beneath three blankets, she still falls asleep shivering while the storm rages on outside.)