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Jack had just finished his signature on the last document of the day when Sally came into the study, tea set in her dainty hands and smile on her lopsided lips.
"You're done early," she noted brightly as she set the tray on the broad desk. The silverware, cups, and sugar bowl clinked in cheerful agreement.
"I have a wonderful reason to be timely now," he replied in tandem with tying a ribbon around the parchment scroll. He couldn't help but grin when he glanced back up at his wife— a blush the shade of Wolfsbane blooms had already begun staining her skin. He reached forward with his free hand and brushed his knuckles against her cheek gingerly. "And what a lovely thing she is, too."
"Jack," Sally giggled into his fingers. She pressed a quick kiss to his palm before meeting his gaze again. "I already added four spoonfuls of sugar, but you might need more this time. I tried something new today."
His hand dropped to the teacup to begin inspecting it from every angle, skull tipping as he shifted the black-and-white porcelain. "Something new, hm?" He straightened once more, amusement crinkling the edges of his eye sockets. "Shall I guess what you used?"
"I hoped you would." Sally's fingers dusted the smooth wood paneling as she made her way to him. When she made it to Jack's chair, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the desk, smoothing out the skirt of her dress once she was comfortable. She fixed him with a particular type of smile then, one he'd familiarized himself with long before they were married. It was modest and reserved— much like Sally herself— but there was an undercurrent of mischievousness in the slight curve of her lips, the dip of her head, the glint in her eyes. It was the kind of smile she used when she was being clever.
It was the kind of smile that made Jack's legs give out from under him.
"I'll answer three questions," she told him as she folded her hands in her lap, "but no other clues."
It was enough to snap Jack out of his stupor. He blinked and forced himself to look back at the striped set in front of him. It all seemed innocent—and easy— enough, but his wife's smile told him it would be anything but. He quirked an eye socket at her. "And if I answer incorrectly?"
It was Sally's turn to hum. She let her feet kick absentmindedly as she mulled the question over. "If you answer incorrectly, you'll have to take a day off," she answered after a moment of consideration.
"And if I get it right?"
"We'll… cross that graveyard when we come to it."
Jack matched her grin with a lazy one of his own, then turned his attention back toward the beverage. "Very well, my dear." He closed his fingers around the small teacup, shut his eyes, and brought it to his nasal cavity. "It smells… sweet." He took a tentative sip. "It tastes sweet, too." He cracked open a socket to peek at Sally. "You didn't add the sugar on purpose, did you?"
Sally raised her eyebrows, lips still twisted up at the edges. "Are you saying I'm cheating?"
"Masking some of the taste," Jack said forlornly with a theatrical shake of his head. "It's only fair that I receive a fourth question in exchange—"
Her laugh filled his skull with more warmth than the steam wafting up from the tea.
Jack hid his fond smile behind another sip. The tea was stronger than usual and its taste was complex. He immediately ruled out nightshade—the brew was far too mild to hide it— but hemlock, banesberry, and wart weed all seemed to be potential options. He began to mentally thumb through all the flora native to their kingdom before pausing with a realization: Sally never stated what holiday housed the tea leaves.
"Did you make the tea with plants from Halloween Town?"
"Yes."
Jack sank back in his chair, deflated. His pointer finger tapped on the rim of the teacup as he wracked his metaphorical brain for another perspective to look at the mystery from. His eye sockets narrowed while he examined the pale brown liquid. He couldn't quite place why, but the taste made a flicker of nostalgia glow in his bones. There seemed to be multiple distinct profiles on his tongue, but without tasting each by itself, he struggled to identify if they were plants he'd smelled in passing or ingredients he'd tasted in dishes.
He sighed and freed up a hand to rest his chin on. His gaze fell on Sally from beneath his brow ridge. His next question was a shot in the dark, but he hoped it would at least rule out many of the ingredients she'd used in the past. "Have I tasted this flavor of tea before?"
For a brief, beautiful moment, Sally's proud grin shifted into something bashful, soft, and altogether endearing in its genuine surprise. She recovered quickly, but the expression gave more away than any verbal answer could have.
The taste of the tea merged with a memory a few weeks prior: Jack, tongue accidentially invading Sally's stuffing, and Sally, apologies spilling out of her mouth faster than the leaves spilling out of her seams.
Deliberately, slowly, Jack took another drink from the striped teacup. When he smiled at her again, it was devoid of any arrogance at having won their game. Instead, his sockets warmed as he looked at her, the sides of his mouth turned up in a gentle arc, and his voice was tender when he told her, " It's delicious, Sally." He placed it down on its saucer and rested his hand over hers. "In fact, I don't think it needs any sugar at all."
Her blush returned as she intertwined her fingers with his. "I thought it would take a few days for you to figure it out," she said quietly. She chewed on her bottom lip before continuing. "I was so embarrassed when it happened— you've seen my stitches come undone before, of course, but you didn't expect to have to taste… well, the inside of me." She shrugged once, sharp. "You don't like bitter things. I thought if I reduced the sugar little by little, you'd like the taste more."
"Sally. Look at me, dearest."
Her wide eyes slid up to meet his gaze.
"I did like it. It's a part of you; how could I not?" He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissed them, then tucked them under his chin. "I only stopped that night because I thought you didn't like how it felt. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He pressed his teeth to her fingers again and let them linger there. "Come here, my love."
Once Sally was straddling his lap, Jack pushed his hands under her dress to run along her sides soothingly. He tilted his head at her, his grin playful. "I still have one question left."
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, fingers already beginning to undo the buttons on his suit jacket. "Yes?"
"Is there any chance we could postpone our tea break to a later date?" Mischief took over his expression as his thumb found the ripped seam and pushed inside. Sally's eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back, lips parting with a sigh. Using the small tear as leverage, he guided her forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder. He lowered his voice in the way he only did with her, pressed his mouth against her ear, and murmured, "I've found something much more appetizing that I'd like to try."