Work Text:
“Hey, we got a wedding invite,” I called out as I entered the house, sorting through the stack of mail in my hand.
“Really? Who’s getting married?” Ben called back from the kitchen. I got to the doorway in time to see him close the oven door and straighten up to check the pot on the stove.
“Something smells good,” I told him as I walked into the kitchen, tossing the mail onto the table so I could shuck off my jacket. I went to drape it over the nearest chair back, but felt Ben’s disapproving look without even having to see it. Shaking my head, I hung it on a peg by the back door instead, giving Ben a That better? look. He just nodded and went back to stirring.
“It’s the last of the venison stew we froze,” he told me. “And some biscuits.”
“Those cheesy ones I like?” I asked, hopeful.
“A variation on them, yes, and I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Ben replied, pointing the ladle in my direction before I could say a word. “The recipe Mrs. Vecchio sent was horrifically high in salt and fat.”
“Which was what made them so good. But hey, I’m sure these will be fine,” I added quickly, heading off an old argument. “Can I at least give constructive criticism on them this time?”
Ben sighed deeply. “As long as it’s actually constructive. These suck ass, Ben, does not help me to make improvements.”
“Promise. Only helpful comments.” I crossed over to where Ben was and gave him a quick kiss before trying to steal the ladle for a bite of stew. He stopped me, which I pretty much expected, but considering he used his body to block the move, sliding his chest slow and firm over mine, no way was I going to complain.
“So you were saying we got an invitation?”
“Oh, yeah, right! Didn’t even open it yet.” I walked back to the table and fished the envelope out of the pile. Ben sighed again, this time at the tattered bits of paper I was leaving on the table as I ripped open the envelope.
“Let’s see… hey, you’ll never guess,” I told Ben as I read the front. I waved it so he could see, then flipped it back over to read aloud. “The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Elaina Sanders and James Thomason.”
“Ellie’s getting married? I wasn’t aware she and Jim were that serious.”
I wasn’t either, though I knew they were crazy about each other. Besides, Ellie played her personal life pretty close to the vest. Made a nice contrast from Lane and his TMI mouth. “Please, I told you they were made for each other the first time I met the guy, remember?”
“Actually, what I remember is you disparaging his skill at photography, and wondering about his intentions.”
Oh yeah. I guess I had, but hey, even with only a couple of classes under my belt I could see that the guy hadn’t been serious about learning to take pictures. He’d been obviously more interested in getting close to the teacher.
When I’d bitched about it to Ben, he’d told me to get over my crush and let Ellie have a life. Lane had been a lot more understanding- he hadn’t been at all sure of the guy either. It still scared me a little that Lane and I agreeing on something made me feel better.
“Well, whatever, I knew he was more interested in her than in cameras or composition.” I looked at the date. “Mid-October wedding. Think you could get a carving done for them by then?” We’d given Ellie a piece of Ben’s a couple of years back, and she still talked about it. He always brushed it off, saying it was just a hobby, like me taking up photography. But my picture taking was nowhere near in the league that Ben’s woodworking was.
Ben thought about it for a minute, then nodded. “I have a few things in progress that might work.
“Greatness,” I replied happily as I got out bowls and plates and started to set the table.
Ben pulled the biscuits out of the oven and set them out to cool, giving me a warning look not to grab one too soon. I just rolled my eyes and grabbed the pitcher of tea out of the fridge, setting it on the table. Of course, if those had been made exactly from Ma’s recipe, he’d have been right to give me the look.
“We should invite Ellie and her fiance over for dinner sometime soon, as a congratulations,” Ben said as he grabbed a bowl from the table and ladled stew into it. “It’s been a while since we entertained.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, then snapped my fingers as a thought occurred to me. “Hey, we could invite Lane and his boyfriend too, make it a real party. What do you think?”
“Who is Lane seeing this month?” Ben asked with a wry smile.
“Brian, and it’s been almost three months now.”
“Really?” Ben said, surprised. He handed me my bowl and put some of the biscuits on a plate to bring to the table as he sat down. “That’s a record.”
“Yeah. Don’t know if the guy’s right for him, but at least he’s giving it a real shot this time.”
“Well, based on how you felt about Jim and Ellie, that makes them practically engaged,” Ben teased. I stuck my tongue out and reached for a biscuit, taking a cautious bite. Ben was a pretty good cook, but when he made a mistake it was spectacularly bad. These, however, were pretty good and I told him so.
“Excellent,” he smiled, obviously pleased he managed to get something healthy into my diet.
I narrowed my eyes at him as I took another bite. “I don’t want to know what you changed, do I?”
“Probably not,” he agreed, taking a biscuit for himself.
The rest of dinner we talked about work, me telling him stories about the crazy things my students were doing, and Ben countering with the antics of his newest subordinates, a couple of whom sounded like they were giving Turnbull a run for his money in the weirdness factor. That got me thinking about Chicago.
“You know,” I told him as I took our plates over to the sink. “I get three weeks off at Christmas, between semesters."
“I didn’t think it had changed from the past three years,” he replied, and I hip-checked him as he reached into a drawer for foil to wrap up the leftovers. He grinned and bumped me back.
“You mentioned your schedule for a reason, I’m sure,” he said as he stepped around me.
“I was thinking we could maybe take some time off, head south for a bit.”
“How far south are we talking?”
“Not see my folks far. They booked a cruise this year, if you can believe it.” I shook my head, wondering again how Mom had convinced Dad that was a good idea. He hated boats. “But maybe we could go back to Chicago? Ma asks every year, and we haven’t seen Frannie’s newest in person.”
Ben nodded slowly as he thought about it. “Ray said he and Stella would be up from Florida this year as well.”
“There you go. A chance to see lots of folks in one fell swoop.”
“I do have the time,” he said, then nodded firmly. “I’ll check into it tomorrow.”
“Hey, you need me to convince the boss?” I sidled over to Ben and ran a hand slowly up and down his back, leaning in to whisper. “I can be pretty persuasive.”
His eyes sparkled as he turned and grabbed my hand, pulling me to him. “It wouldn’t hurt,” he said with that smile that always got to me.
I let him lead me to the bedroom, willing to plead my case as long and hard as necessary.
After all, if it was worth doing, it was worth doing right.