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Ian and Quinn hurried along the path to their home as the wind picked up. The leaves on the oak trees in the front yard had started to turn beautiful shades of russet and chestnut-brown this past week, just like the colors of the professors' hair. Leaves were rustling vigorously in the evening breeze, and a good few cascaded onto the lawn, after dancing on the gusts. It was already on the Cold Side of the Force in mid-September, what with autumn around the corner. And the raindrops that started falling before they could get to the door made it seem even colder.
But Alder Run, as well as all of Upstate New York, needed the rain desperately. It hadn't rained for almost a month, and the grass and bushes were looking 'Stanford Yellow', as Ian put it, referring to the all-too-usual drought conditions in California. They didn't want to waste water by using sprinklers in the yard, so Quinn and Ian were actually happy to get a bit wet outside their front door, knowing that the lawn and foliage were drinking in the nourishing rain.
They'd just gotten back from a relaxing Saturday afternoon spent with their friends from Luke. The Skyhawks had won the first away football game of the season, and they had watched the action in Case's living room on his big-screen television, along with Ethan and Evan. Their local channel, ESPA, covered the action of all the Luke sports teams, including Ian's gymnastics squad, which had a new logo -- a Skyhawk soaring over the high bar -- on their singlets and shorts this year.
Case had gotten a rescue puppy a couple of weeks ago; he had taken one look at her sweet face and named her Corki. She was an adorable Yorkshire terrier, who was all of a month old. She'd adopted one of Case's ratty dish towels as her security blanket, and Ian snapped a cute picture of her peeking over the towel to show Lelia. All of the professors took turns cuddling Corki, but somehow, she gravitated into Quinn's lap the most.
The game was a real nail-biter in the first quarter, what with the Darthmouth Maulers gaining ground, in spite of committing a large number of offensive personal fouls. But once the first half had wound down, it looked grim for the Maulers. They seemed dispirited in the second half of the game, as if they'd lost their spark. You could hear the professors' cheers all the way to New Hampshire when the sophomore quarterback of the Skyhawks, Cale Morgan, threw another touchdown in the last seconds of the game, a 38-11 victory over the out-classed Maulers.
Case always spoiled his friends with delicious snacks, and this year continued the tradition -- soft pretzel bites with dipping sauces; mini-pizzas with delectable toppings; Swedish meatballs coated with asiago cheese; stuffed mushrooms with crabmeat; and many more. Not to mention bottles of Guinness stout and Evian to wash it all down with. So there was no need to prepare dinner tonight, even with Quinn's hearty appetite.
He was still cheering to himself and humming the Skyhawks fight song, when Ian opened the front door. Their puppies came running to greet them, wagging their tails and yipping merrily. They sniffed Corki on their dads' clothing and liked the idea of making a new friend. Petting and pampering went on for the next few minutes, so the men's clothes were dry by the time the pups were ready for their dinner. Quinn refilled their food and water bowls, while Ian listened to the voice mail. He answered messages from Jo and Monty, then used the facilities.
Artoo and Sandy finished up their meal and headed straight for their baskets for the night, snuggling into the cozy new autumn blankets that Violet had made for them. They were miniature versions of their dads' comforter -- blue and green tartan -- the only difference was a white stripe between each colored square. The pups still liked snuggling with Ian and Quinn under the big comforter in the master bedroom better, though.
Quinn looked out the window to the back yard; there was now a driving rain pounding their lawn. He could all but feel the grass getting greener by the moment. Smiling in satisfaction, he closed the blinds in hopes that the puppies would remain undisturbed by the bad weather.
"Ready for our first cocoa of the season?" Quinn asked, taking Ian into his warm embrace as soon as he walked in the kitchen.
Ian nodded into the worn cotton of Quinn's Skyhawks sweatshirt, which made him feel even warmer. "Good idea. Remember, Amy sent us a bunch of flavored packets of cocoa powder last week."
"That girl has the best timing," said Quinn appreciatively, ruffling Ian's soft spikes of copper hair and feeling them yield under his hand.
"Yeah, she does." Ian snuggled even deeper into the sweatshirt's cottony softness. "How 'bout adding a liqueur to our drinks, as well?"
Quinn smiled. "An excellent suggestion on such a raw evening." He brushed a kiss over a crease on Ian's forehead. "What's your pleasure? Amaretto? Creme de Menthe? Bailey's Irish Cream?"
Ian licked his lips in anticipation. "Somehow, I think I'll be getting plenty of Irish Cream later tonight." He winked and Quinn just had to snort. "What would you prefer?"
"Why don't I just surprise you?" Quinn drawled.
"I love your surprises," Ian said, looking forward to it already.
Quinn chuckled. "I'm happy to hear that."
Ian said, "I'll go light the fire, and you can get started on our concoctions."
"But then, I'd have to let you go." Quinn's eyes danced, as he held Ian tight. "And we haven't been able to grab a hug for the whole afternoon."
Ian burrowed closer and ran his hand over Quinn's back. "It'll only be for a little bit." He grinned in delight over Quinn's craving for him.
"How about a couple of kisses first?" The glint in Quinn's eyes let Ian know that his herven was in his element as a diplomat.
"One kiss now, and the rest after I kindle the fire." Ian was really getting into the negotiations now.
"Okay, then. Your terms are acceptable." Quinn's kiss sealed the deal and was certainly an incentive to do their tasks quickly. Then they could laze by the fire, which would seem even cozier with the wind and rain outside their little nest.
"Sounds like a plan," Ian said, reaching up to nuzzle into Quinn's chin, before disentangling to go to the living room. He thought dreamily of the way he'd woken up that morning -- to the sound of the axe in the back yard. He had looked out the bedroom window, delighted to see Quinn chopping firewood on the lawn.
Shirt off, chest gleaming with sweat, Quinn couldn't have looked any hotter, both literally and figuratively. After he heard Ian opening the window, he'd stopped for a moment to wave at him. And Ian believed that he still had to be dreaming when he saw this delicious vision, but he waved back, just in case.
Still seeing the shirtless Quinn in his mind's eye, Ian grinned when he took a few logs from the bin and placed them on the andirons. He started the fire, feeling its warmth instantly as soft heat began to fill the room. He stayed in front of the fireplace for a couple of minutes, basking in the mellow glow of the flames. A strong arm curled around his shoulders as Quinn dropped a kiss onto his forehead and led him to the couch. Quinn had been busy while Ian was at the hearth. A tray with mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of warm brownies, fresh from the microwave oven, was waiting for them on the coffee table.
"Hazelnut-Kahlua cocoa and Prudence's grasshopper brownies," said Quinn with a smile. He knew the layer of peppermint frosting made the brownies irresistible to his laddie.
"Now that's what I call a snack!" Ian said, his enthusiasm warming the room as much as the fire.
They returned to the kitchen to turn on the C-3PO night-light for the puppies and to click off the ceiling light. Then, back to the living room, which looked like Bag End, Bilbo's hobbit hole. Same crackling fire on the hearth; same cozy charm; same placement "in the comfortable heart of the" village -- in this case, Alder Run.
In fact, through the years Ian and Quinn had added a lot of touches to their home to make it more hobbit-like. Pewter candlestick holders stood proudly on their mantel; the Brothers Hildebrandt print of "The Prancing Pony" hung over the piano, reminding everyone who had the best ale in Bree; Royal Doulton figurines of Gandalf and Galadriel in her Lenox swan boat stood majestically on top of the bookcase; their copper teakettle whistled its steamy tune on the stove.
One of the biggest differences was the scale of things. When you had a strapping 6'4" man living there, you needed to surround him with Quinn-sized furnishings. So the brown leather couch was long enough for Quinn to lie down on, without even bending his knees; their easy chairs could hold both of them at once; their bed was king-sized, wide enough to roll around on; and the shower-head in the master bedroom was set higher than usual and was removable, so Quinn could hold it in his hand to reach any hard-to-access spot.
When they were seated on the couch, they sipped their cocoa in quiet contentment. Then Quinn took a brownie and held it to his lad's lips. Ian gave an adorable little nibble, and one corner of the treat went down the hatch. Ian tried something unexpected at this point -- instead of waiting for Quinn to take a bite as well, Ian did the same thing Quinn had done to him. Grinning, he grabbed the brownie from Quinn's fingers and fed him in turn. Surprised and delighted, Quinn could tell that it was now time for a brownie-flavored kiss, and their Jedi telepathy kicked in again, when Ian put the brownie back on the plate and moved both mugs away from the edge of the table.
The kiss was a wonderful blend of their individual tastes, along with those of their snack. Together, the hot chocolate and brownie reminded them of one of their all-time favorites: chocolate-mocha hazelnut torte, the very treat that they had chosen as the cake for their marriage celebrations in Massachusetts and New York. Somehow, it tasted even better now, here on the eve of their 10th anniversary. And the added peppermint kick from the grasshopper brownie was redolent of Rumple Minze, the liqueur they'd sipped with their wedding cake.
They both basked in the kiss -- Living in the Moment, one of Quinn's favorite precepts, had never tasted so good.
"Mmmmm... Couldn't be more delicious," Ian said, adding a peck just under his husband's bottom lip, where the natural pout made it even more irresistible.
"I don't know about that, lad," said Quinn, his tongue swiping the spot his husband had just kissed. "How's this?" So saying, he dove in for a kiss that was even tastier. This time, he licked a line around Ian's mouth, then the tender lips themselves, each dab of his tongue yielding the last vestiges of mocha-peppermint flavor.
Both of their mouths opened now, as they drank even deeper of each other's complex flavors -- an overlay of their snack, followed by the familiar taste of their essences.
When Ian came up for air, he said, "Okay, okay. You're right: It could be more delicious, and it just was."
Both of them started to laugh at the same time, accompanied by the merry crackle of the fire. By now, they were thirsty and had worked up a real appetite for dessert. Their hot chocolate still held a bit of warmth, so they sipped it appreciatively. Then they each grabbed a brownie -- Quinn went for the pre-nibbled one -- and began chewing the moist, delectable treats in earnest this time. Ian ate one, while Quinn gobbled two, leaving four for tomorrow.
They cuddled into each other, content with kisses, cuddles, and caresses by the fireside, easing into autumn in arcadia.