Jewellery for Beth Johanssen
DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing.
Beth lets the door fall shut behind them and throws her jacket onto a drawer in the corner. Lewis smiles at Beth's casually spreading her usual mess in Chris's apartment (something tells her he doesn't mind), and makes a point of hanging her own jacket on a hook at the wall.
"Chris? I brought company."
"Tell me it's not Mark," comes Beck's voice from the kitchen, and Lewis can't help another smile at the equally annoyed and affectionate tone of his voice.
Beth rolls her eyes at Lewis. "It's Melissa. What's for dinner?"
He turns up in the doorway to the kitchen, throws his former commander a smile and hands Johannsen a glass, his grin turning slightly sheepish. "Um... take-out. And an apology drink for being a lazy-ass boyfriend?"
"I don't mind," she gives back with a smirk, taking a sip from her drink. "Your drinks are way better than your cooking." She laughs and puts her glass down on the table. "I'll get another plate for Melissa."
"Hey. Rude!" he calls after her, shaking his head and throwing Lewis an apologetic grin. "Not a lie, though."
She smiles. "Can't be worse than NASA food."
"Not worse than Beth's cooking either," he replies with a laugh, "but sure doesn't beat the Thai joint round the corner."
"Pretty sure she didn't chose you for your skills in the kitchen," Lewis answers.
He raises a brow and beckons her to take a seat.
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Commander?" he asks with a brazen grin on his face and opens a cupboard. "Wine?"
"Red, please, and I have no idea what you're talking about." Oh Jeez, sometimes she really feels like babysitting teenagers. Not in a bad way, necessarily.
The flowers on the table look a little worse for wear, but they make her grin. She's positive Beth wouldn't bother with flowers. Mark clearly didn't lie when he said their doctor was going domestic on them.
"If anyone wants to hear my opinion," Beth comes back with takeaway boxes and cutlery balanced dangerously on a third dinner plate, "his cooking skills don't speak for him, but he does make a killer coffee."
"Coming from Beth, that might be the highest compliment ever paid to you, Beck."
He has the presence of mind to laugh at that, but she knows him well enough to spot the spark of pride in his eyes. It probably is a declaration of love, coming from the caffeine-addicted Johanssen.
She makes a mental note to ask him where he got the ring, because honestly, there is no way in the world he hasn't bought one yet.
"How's Robert?" Beth asks, piling food on Melissa's plate.
"Good. Glad to have his wife back, meaning I get great home-made food. You know, he had a lot of practice while we were gone."
"Where's the corkscrew?" comes Beck's voice from the kitchen.
"I don't know."
"You had it, and there's no chance I'll find any item that was last seen in your hands, Beth."
She rolls her eyes again. Lewis missed that about her. "Try the couch table."
"I cleaned that off to have some space to put my laptop on. It wasn't there."
"Bedroom?"
He pokes his head out of the door. "What do you do when I work late?"
"Hey. I can empty a bottle over a book any time I want to."
Something tells Lewis that's not quite what Beck was thinking off. He makes his way up the steps, muttering "A bottle?"
"I'm a big girl, please don't lecture me on the finer points of liver failure. Again."
Lewis makes a mental note to ask about that, too.
He comes back with the corkscrew triumphantly held up and opens the bottle. "So, Melissa. What have you been up to? Does Mark hang around your place a lot? Because he's invading ours. I found a sock of his under the sofa."
"Give him a break," Johanssen mutters, throwing him a reprimanding glance. He sighs.
"Yeah. I know. You know I don't mean that."
Another mental note. She needs to get Chris on his own, one of these days.
"He did spend two days on my couch last week," Melissa says, trying to steer the conversation away from the touchy subject. "Had to fight over it with the dog, though."
"That's right, Robert's dog. How's he warming up to you?"
"Oh, he's all cuddles and smearing dirt all over my pants, I just haven't warmed up to the poor beast being called Pluto."
Beth laughs. "It is a cheesy name. But it kinda suits him."
"Beth's got a crush on your puppy," Beck says through a mouthful of noodles, and Johanssen rolls her eyes at him.
"He's over a year old now, Beck, that's not a puppy. Besides, I really don't need a dog. I already got someone who looks at me like a kicked puppy when he doesn't get his way." She throws him a pointed look, but there's still a hint of a smile on her lips.
Melissa smiles. She's missed these two.
"Haha. Did you hear of Vogel lately, Melissa? We've been trying to get ahold of him, but you know, time zones and all, we only got a couple of e-mails out of him."
"He sent a picture of his kids, dressed up for the World Cup. They seem to be just as soccer-obsessed as he is."
Beck smirks. "Yeah. We better keep tabs on those games, or he'll hate us forever."
"True," Melissa says. "I sent him an invitation for Rob's birthday, but I'm not sure if he got it yet. You two will come, right?"
"Was not coming an option?" Beck asks, feigning surprise.
"Absolutely not. Wear something nice."
"Yes ma'am," he says, raising his hand to salute, and pours her more wine.
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