Marvellous things

Chapter 6: I've got a friend called Emily Post

'I see now why it's called fast food,' Crane remarked drily while observing how Abbie wolfed down her food in the car. She glared at him. There was little else she could do with a mouthful of deliciousness. Quickly, she swallowed her bite.

'That's the way you're supposed to eat a hamburger, Emily Post.'

'Who is this Emily Post you speak of? Is she a friend of yours?' Crane asked. Impatiently, Abbie urged him to tuck in. Hesitantly, he took a tiny, delicate bite and then looked at her as if he wanted to know whether he was doing it right. As if he wanted her approval.

'No, you've gotta really get in there. There's no place for daintiness when it comes to eating junk food. Here, like this,' she instructed and sank her teeth into the bun and the beef. For a second, she doubted that Crane would rise to the challenge. Too dignified, probably. Then he took a huge bite out of his burger. Ketchup dribbled down his chin. Grinning, Abbie passed him some paper napkins and dug in too.

Five minutes later, they both sighed with considerable satisfaction.

'That was good, right?'

'The fact remains that the term food hardly applies, but, yes, I concede that it was good,' Crane responded. He wiped his fingers with the last clean napkin and surprised her yet again.

'I want to cook for you. I want to make you dinner,' he stated. Abbie accepted, making sure that there was no physical contact between them when she took her drink from the dashboard. This isn't strange, she reasoned. Friends prepared meals for each other. So, not strange. Not crossing a line or anything. It would be casual and not awkward at all. She could do this.

(***)

It wasn't awkward. It wasn't casual either. Abbie diced some – store bought – vegetables and explained how her stove worked, but mostly Crane did the cooking. They talked about safe subjects. The weather. Where you could buy the best carrots. How those ingenious, round carrots could exist. None of the things Abbie associated with romantic evenings were there. No candles. No flowers. No soft lighting. No warbling background music. It was the two of them and food. It was comfortable. It was familiar. It felt incredibly loaded.

They kept up their chatter during dinner. The dishes he had prepared were nothing fancy, but everything tasted heavenly. The chicken was spicy. The carrots, onions and tomatoes were tasty – and expertly chopped. The potatoes were crumbly. Dessert was sweet. Everything was great.

Crane insisted on washing up, so Abbie assisted him. She had a bad moment when he rolled up his sleeves, but it mercifully passed. Finally, he had on his coat and they were standing by the door. She felt glad that he was leaving. She felt sad that he wasn't staying. She was a mess.

'Thank you for cooking for me. I had a really nice evening, just you and me,' she said. Crane stiffened. Dammit, Abbie thought, I screwed it up on the finish line.

'About what happened before. I mean, about what I did. I shouldn't have,' she said, trying to find the right words to say to defuse the sudden tension and set him at ease. Crane shook his head and took her hands into his own.

'We are in agreement, Abbie. I understand. Now is not the time to speak of love.'

Abbie felt her jaw drop as she gaped at him. Embarrassed, Crane shifted his gaze to somewhere over her shoulder.

'You were not speaking of love? My deepest apologies,' he stammered. Abbie grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, pulled him towards her and kissed the hell out of him. He stumbled back.

'That was... You were speaking of love?' he asked. Abbie nodded. It felt beyond awesome to admit. Yes, she loved Ichabod. A smile appeared on his face. He wrapped her up in his arms. She leaned her head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment.

'Well, this won't do at all,' Abbie said, stepping back. Crane looked bemused.

'Your clothes,' she clarified. 'They have to go. Off with them.'

'Abbie, no. I have told you before that I will not, under any circumstances, compromise on this issue. I refuse to conform to this century's highly inappropriate dress code.'

'Oh, you can put them back on after,' Abbie lightly replied. He blushed. It was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. She needed him undressed and in her bed as soon as possible. Crane, however, had other plans. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips. A slow, intense one.

'Making love is not akin to consuming fast food, Abbie. There is no rushing. We will take our time. We will enjoy it to the fullest. We will be thorough. Personally, I intend to be extremely thorough.'

The end.