gonna_live | (no subject)

(no subject)

It actually went well.

The beer can chicken has been picked over, the fake drunken chicken is 3/4 gone, and Sallie's pies are entirely gone.

Kaylee is busy carrying plates into the kitchen; her sweater is draped over a chair; an apron is on over her camisole; her hair is pinned up.

And she's smiling to herself, secret and pleased.

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Her smile broadens a little. "Reckon that means it wasn't so bad after all."

"It was actually kind of fun," he admits. "Once it got underway."

"And I didn't see anybody makin' faces about how low-class it all was." With satisfaction. "So I'm thinkin' the next couple at least might be all non-awkward, too."

"I hope so." He leans close again, resting his shoulder lightly against hers. "You set them all a good example."

She looks up at him with a small smile.

"I like them. A lot."

"I'm glad." His smile's a little wider. "So do I. They're good people."

"Are you gonna be nervous next time?"

"No, I don't think I will."

He ducks his head a touch. "Seems a little silly now."

"Not so much," Kaylee says mildly, bending to open the dishwasher. "Think about it some -- last work-related shindig for either of us was for your daddy's work, and we was all formal, and I escaped to the kitchen about halfway through anyhow and left you out there like some kind of mean person."

(She might still be smiling a little.)

"A little traumatic for you, if you squint."

"It wasn't traumatic," he objects, though not with much force. "Not really."

She starts loading dishes. "Oh, should I not be arguin' on your side here?"

"..."

He seems about to object further, and then subsides with a rueful smile.

"No, you win."

Kaylee strains up on her toes -- the shoes with low heels have gone the way of the sweater, and she's currently barefoot and in the kitchen -- and kisses his cheek.

"Three of my favorite words," she says with satisfaction, and goes back to the dishes.

The sound he makes is somewhere halfway between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment.

"I'll go finish clearing up," he murmurs.

She nods. "And then we'll be just about done in here for tonight." Pleased.

"And I think we've earned some rest," he says over his shoulder, heading for the living room.

"Oh, just a little." Putting in plates. "But I ought to let Sallie know there's not pie left."

He raises his voice to call through to the kitchen, as he collects the serving platters.

"So what are the chances you'll let me help cook next time?"

"Infinitesimal to none, handsome," she calls back cheerfully, "unless I start seein' some proof beforehand that you know what you're about."

"So I should audition for it?" He grins.

"Get up a stable of solid recipes, with edible evidence, and we'll talk."

"I'll make it my next project."

Beat.

"...in my copious spare time," he adds with a not-really-displeased sigh.

"Your copious spare time that ain't spent -- "

She closes the dishwasher, presses a button, and straightens.

" -- helpin' me with the house."

And now she hangs through the door, grinning at him. "Hey. We did it."

"We did." He beams back at her.

She reaches up, presses a finger to the pad; the music stops. "Come on and bring those in there, and I'll deal with 'em in the mornin'."

He picks up a last stray napkin, tucks it onto the stack of platters, and carries it through into the kitchen.

Pausing en route to steal another quick kiss.

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