Tag to Fast Food for Thoughts
Season 3, episode 12
"Hey, honey, what's for dinner?" she teases him as she enters his apartment. She gives him a quick peck on the lips.
"You did say normal people stay home and eat hamburgers and watch television, right?" he replies on the same tone.
"You didn't dare!"
He snorts. "I could have." He takes her coat and hangs it in his closet. "But no. I did not. I've had enough burgers for a while."
He walks back to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home."
"Can I help?" She peeks in.
He motions for her to turn back and return to the living room. "Ah, ah, no lady. I said I'd cook tonight. You relax. If you want to help, why don't you pour us some wine? I selected it already. I hope you don't mind."
She walks back in a minute later with two glasses and gives him her puppy look when he stares her down. "I promise I won't help or steal your recipes. I just wanna be with you."
He smiles at her and bends to kiss her cheek. "I guess that's alright. Thank you." He takes a sip at the wine.
She shudders when he opens the fridge to get the appetizers.
"You cold?" he worries.
"Oh, no. I guess it's just the sight of the fridge that still gives me nightmares."
He rubs her arm. "Do you want one of my sweaters?"
"I was going to say no but yeah. I've been cold all day."
"Feel free to choose one from my closet. Bedroom," he calls after her, "left-hand side."
She slides the door open to reveal rows of suits and neatly-organized shelves. "Well, well," she mutters to herself, "his housekeeping did improve." She chooses his blue-and-red rugby shirt.
"Just the right size," she quips when she returns to the kitchen. The shirt look like a dress on her.
He grins. "You look good in it. Feeling better?"
She nods.
"Good. Dinner is served." He motions for her to sit at the dinner table. "I thought we might watch a movie after dinner if you want." He waves. "You know, to act like normal people. Blend in."
She chuckles. "Yeah, as if you could."
"What? Are you saying I'm not able to act like a normal person?"
"With the number of suits you have in your closet, I don't think that's possible."
He shakes his head in disbelief. "But I can try," he offers. He wags his finger at her. "Just don't touch my suits."
He hands her the bread basket. "There, now, let's try and relax, shall we?"
"Lee, you shouldn't put these in front of me," she warns him when he leaves the box of chocolates on the coffee table.
He settles back in the couch next to her after feeding a VHS into the VCR and wraps a loose arm behind her. "It pairs well with the wine. Besides, you need the magnesium."
"I certainly don't need the love handles that go with it."
He snorts. "I'm sure you can have a few. You have a perfect figure, Amanda."
She blushes just a little. "But I won't keep it if you keep inviting me for dinner."
"Ah, well, we'll talk about it again in twenty years or so." Her heart stutters. He hears her intake of breath and smiles. "In the meantime, why don't you try a couple of these." He moves the box closer to them. "Hum? Just a couple to humor me?" He grins at her. "I know you want one." He takes one from the box and bites into one. "Oh, God, that one is delicious. Wanna try it?" He offers the other half to her. "Hum? What do you say we enjoy life a little?" he says enticingly.
She takes it and closes her eyes in pleasure, settling more comfortably in the couch, her back touching his arm. He wraps it around her shoulders and puts the box of chocolates on her lap. "Just in case you want more," he whispers in her ear.
She shivers. He takes the throw-over blanket he keeps on the back of his couch and wraps it around them. "There, all cozy and warm. Now, let's get this movie started."
Halfway through the movie, she folds her legs on the couch and leans her head in the crook of his neck. He grins and wraps his arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. "You cold?"
"No. You're warm enough to power a city," she quips.
He chuckles. "Well, maybe not but if I can be of any help keeping you warm, I'm most happy to oblige."
She turns her head, her lips hardly an inch from his, and looks him in the eye. He sighs in content and draws her to him, his lips almost on hers. She smiles. He draws her to him. The phone rings.
He huffs and closes his eyes in exasperation.
She can't help chuckling.
"It's not funny, Amanda," he growls. He picks up the phone and barks an exasperated "yes?".
He sighs and disentangles himself from her. He walks up to his desk and shuffles through files. "Ya. I guess. But can't it wait until morning, Sir? Yes, Sir, I understand. No, Sir, I'll be there in half an hour."
He ends the call and slowly turns to Amanda who's waiting with her hands on her lap. He scratches his hair in embarrassment. "Ah, Amanda?"
She looks up, looking as discomfited as he.
"I need to take care of something now."
"Blue Leader?"
He nods.
She gives him a small smile. "Guess this is my cue to leave." She stands and starts to remove his rugby shirt.
"No, no, you keep it. I don't want you to get cold." He pouts. "I'll walk you to your car." He sighs. "Amanda?"
"Yes, Lee?"
"Rain check?" He gives her a hopeful smile.
She finally gives him a smile that reaches her eyes, filling him with warmth and longing. "You betcha."
He helps her into her coat and wraps her in his arms for just a second. "Until we meet again."
She gives him a peck on the lips before getting into her car. He bends to look her in the eye, her hand still in his.
"I'm sorry it happened again. We're cursed," he sighs in frustration.
She smiles at him and caresses his cheek. "We'll beat the odds somehow."
He kisses her hand. "Oh, yeah. I swear someday soon I'm going to lock us up and throw away the key and no one is going to interrupt us."
"Mother? Have you seen the rugby shirt I keep on my bedside chair?" she calls. "I can't find it." She reaches the family room as Dotty answers her.
"Yes, honey, it's right here. I'm just getting ready to do some laundry. I thought I might add it to the load. You've worn that thing for the last week."
She skids into a halt in front of the washing machine and retrieves the shirt from the hamper. "Don't you dare touch that," she tells her mom fiercely. She wraps her arms around the shirt and buries her face in it. She finally relaxes. She looks up at a bemused Dotty. "Sorry. It doesn't need washing," she tries to explain.
Dotty rolls her eyes. "I swear, Amanda, you look just like that time your first boyfriend had lent you his shirt at the movies and you didn't want to part with it." She squints at her when she sees Amanda turn beet red. "Who did you say gave you that shirt, by the way?"
THE END