Work Text:
“Garcia likes her pasta al dente, right?” Whitaker called out from the kitchen. He had volunteered to make dinner (he’d offered to leave and give them a private night, but they’d both asked him to stay).
“Yes, Huckleberry, she does,” Trinity said as there was a knock on the door. “She’s here!”
“Perfect timing. Five more minutes,” Whitaker said.
Garcia came into the kitchen. “Hi Yo-Yo.”
“Hey Farm Boy.”
After dinner, they went to the living room to watch TV; Garcia rested her head against Trinity’s shoulder. When she fell asleep, Whitaker looked at Trinity. “I’ll go. Goodnight.”
“Night Huckleberry.”