The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: As a quick note, I'm on the 'invitation list' at archiveofourown (.org). As soon as I get the 'in' email, I'm going to post everything that's on this user there too, as a backup measure since isn't kind to M rated stories. And it just makes sense. So you can look for me there soon.

BTW, not leaving by any means, I'm just going to be posting on AO3 too.

This is a long overdue prompt from GhostWhispererFangirl: a day home for Melinda and Jim, with no interruptions.

I'm currently listening to Adele's new album (for those reading in the future, it's 25 and I love it.)

Melinda sat at the picnic table, a bottle of beer sitting lazily in her hand and she turned it around a few times as she gazed across the yard at her husband.

Jim was wrestling...er, fixing...the grill. The winter hadn't been kind to it and now her husband, longing for smoky, charred food, was desperately trying to save it before she eventually convinced him to just scrap it. It had been a cheap grill anyway; a wedding present from friends of Jim's that had called Melinda Melissa the one time they met her before the wedding.

So there were other reasons that Melinda wasn't too attached to it. She'd rather just buy their own damn grill, spend the extra money and have it actually work well and not crumble to pieces after one winter.

She had no patience for things that didn't hold up well in weather. None at all.

She stood up and stretched, her sleeveless blouse (knotted at the waist to show off her stomach and her new tan from a day last week spent at the beach) rode up even more and she glanced toward Jim, hoping to catch his eye, but he was determinedly underneath the grill, getting greasy and sweaty.

Usually a combination that would be sexy, but not today. Not that kind of grease.

Melinda headed inside, her denim cut offs mercifully short. She didn't really believe in wearing pants when she wasn't working...and it was summer...and there was no reason not to. Bare legs were her go to look. Always.

Except for bikinis. She really didn't mind bikinis either.

She moved upstairs and into the bedroom, going to the window as she got undressed so that if Jim looked up, he could see her standing there.

He didn't. He really didn't even stop looking at the underside of the grill.

She sighed and moved to grab the black and white polka dot bikini top and bottom, wiggling into them and checking herself out in the mirror. She did adore that vintage patterns were coming back into vogue. She loved anything old.

She pulled her hair into a messy bun and grabbed her sunglasses, a quick 'beach' read and her beach towel from the cabinet before walking outside and finding a spot on the lawn that was perfect for her towel...and not very far from the grill.

Jim didn't even notice.

Typical man.

She lay down on the towel and picked up the book, bringing one leg up to casually prop it on the other knee.

She might have been imagining it, but there seemed to be a momentary pause in the clang of tools.

A few minutes later, she twisted to lie on her side, her breasts almost falling out of the bikini top at the move.

Now she was facing Jim, almost, and she could definitely see a pause in his working.

Well, it was time to up the stakes.

She rolled on her stomach next, using the book as a prop, since arms tired easily from holding books no matter what position they were in.

She arched her ass a little, making a show of stretching out and then she continued to read, her legs growing warm in the sun.

She managed to concentrate on her book and not check Jim out. She didn't hear a pause but that didn't mean he wasn't looking...she hoped.

Too much time went by without a reaction so Melinda decided to go all out. She knew for a fact that both of their next door neighbors were on vacation this week.

She put the book down and adjusted her bun.

Jim didn't budge.

She turned slightly so that her back was more facing him and then she reached her fingers around to the clasp.

The tools clattered to the ground.

Her fingers worked the clasp and the bikini top fell to the ground.

She casually moved back to lying on her back, moving her hands behind her head.

A moment later, Jim was looming above her, on his hands and knees in the grass.

"Yeah, babe?" She asked, forcing a casual tone.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm tanning," she said. "Delia got this amazing tan and I'm frankly jealous so I'm going to go a shade deeper today."

"Did you need to take your top off?" He asked, his mouth dipping to brush the exposed skin.

"Mm," she said, wiggling away from him. "Um, I don't like awkward tan lines under low cut tops."

Jim met her eyes, which were thankfully shaded by her sunglasses so he couldn't see the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Really?" He asked, moving to again press his mouth to her chest.

"Well, yeah," she said.

He snapped her sunglasses off, and moaned. "Melinda, you were vamping me," he complained, pulling her into his arms and rolling onto his back in one swift motion, bringing Melinda on top. "You always hated that grill."

He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, and she could feel his tongue and even his teeth.

God, she loved this man.

"That's too damn true," she said, trying to pull up his white tank top but he brushed her hands away.

"Oh, no," he said. "You seduced me away from repairs and now you need to pay the price."

"What price is that?" She wondered.

He caught her hands in his. "No control," he whispered.

She didn't bother telling him that he, in coming over, proved that she had all the control in their relationship. "Deal," she whispered back and pressed her lips to his.

Lunch was hot cheese sandwiches, which Melinda fried up as Jim showered.

He came into the kitchen as she finished cutting them in half. "You know, we could have had burgers, if someone hadn't distracted me from fixing the grill," he commented, pressing his lips to the back of her neck in a brief motion.

"You know, I think I'll survive without burgers until we buy a new grill," she said innocently, putting a pickle on each plate.

He paused in taking a beer from the refridgerator. "Why would we need a new grill, honey?" He asked, using the can opener to pop the lid from the bottle.

She glanced back at him, keeping her tone as innocent as his. "Well, ours is broken."

"No, it's just a little rusty from spending a winter outdoors," he said, sitting down across from her. They said a momentary blessing: more a closing of the eyes and clasping of the hands than a real request and began to eat. "Whose idea was that, I don't remember."

"You were just busy last fall and didn't have time to put away the lawn stuff," she said, taking a sip of her own beer to hide her mouth and the twitching of her lips.

"The lawn furniture got put away," Jim countered.

Yeah, and then I got you inside before you could bother with the grill, she thought slyly and shrugged, taking a big bite of sandwich and making a big show of chewing.

Jim took a bite of his own sandwich. "I love mustard," he sighed. "Especially with corned beef and swiss. This is so good, Mel. Thanks for making lunch."

"You didn't even miss the burgers," she chanced.

"I guess not," he sighed again and finished his sandwich with visible enjoyment.

"I was thinking we could go into town for a bit this afternoon, do a bit of summer shopping," Melinda said, changing into a sundress after lunch and coming back downstairs to see that Jim had finished the dishes, bless him.

"Summer shopping?" He asked, a quizzical expression on his face. "What's that?"

"Well, I could do with some new bathing suits," she said. "I've only got ones from last season and bathing suits have such a short life once you wear them to actually swim in anyway, and if we're actually going to the beach for a week this summer, I'd like to get all new suits."

Jim just kind of stared at her during the talk about bathing suits, as if that was what she were wearing. "Sorry, you want me to go along for this?"

"Yes, of course, so you can tell me what styles you like," she said, accidentally on purpose taking that moment to adjust her dress's neckline.

Jim cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, but I'm not the best judge on things like that. What if I tell you to get the wrong one?"

"If it's one you like, it won't be the wrong one," she said, voice breathy and full of promise.

Jim grabbed his wallet. "Then let's go," he said.

And we could even stop at the hardware store, Melinda thought, taking her purse and slinging it over herself, crossbody. And talk to Pete about grills and what brands he recommends. Jim'll be so drunk on seeing me in bikinis he'll go along with whatever I say in order to get me home again.

Home again, Melinda was carrying three shopping bags and Jim was carrying a box with an assemble-yourself grill.

"Maybe we should have driven," she suggested innocently.

Jim merely grunted as he finally dropped the box. "Mel, there's one thing I'm confused about," he said, pushing the door behind him closed with his foot.

"What's that, honey?"

"Why didn't you just tell me that you wanted a new grill instead of sabotaging me last winter from putting it away correctly and today from repairing it?" He asked, stepping over to her.

She dropped the bags. "Jim, I would never—"

With one tug, the tie holding her sundress up was untied and she vainly grabbed at the material before letting it drop.

"You owe me a penalty," he breathed, and scooped her up into his arms. "Especially after making me watch you in those bathing suits. God, Melinda."

She giggled, just glad that he was dropping the topic of the grill.

He carried her up, up, up to bed. And after that, he took her even higher.