juststopped | (no subject)

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krem

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This time, she's going to make sure that they eat dinner. She's got bread in the over, pasta bubbling away - nothing particularly exciting, a similar dish to the one that she'd eaten the first time they ate together. She's dressed comfortably because she's staying at home, in capris and a pretty blouse, barefoot in her kitchen with her hair caught into a braid over one shoulder. She's spent enough time around Krem that she feels entirely comfortable in his company but there's still a flutter of anticipation at knowing that he's on his way.

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It's the easiest thing in the world, to turn her hand and catch his fingers with hers, threading them together, holding his hand. She squeezes.

"It's lovely," she says. She tilts her head, studying his face for a moment. "What reaction were you expecting?"

"I try to not suppose any sort of reaction," Krem said with a little shrug. That wasn't all it was, of course, but it was the fundamental element of it. He swirled his wine idly in his glass, looking at the way it clung to the inside walls of the glass and humming contemplatively.

"There are two here, and there were none back home. I couldn't dare risk it for so long, and then, when it was safe, they were all like family. I didn't go slowly, like maybe I should have."

His voice was colored with self-reproach, maybe a little regret. He had a lot of that. He had done so many things at such a rush, once he felt that he was safe and he could. Now where was he? Certainly not in a bad place, having dinner with a lovely woman who wanted to share her time with him.

"I can understand that," she says, nodding. "It's not the same, but, for a long time I had...stopped. Removed myself. I didn't date, didn't really talk to anyone, had very few friends. After my husband died." She took a sip of her wine. "I made my daughter I promise before I ended up here. Right before. We were on the phone, and I told her that things were going to be different." She gives him a little smile. "And here we are."

"Here we are," Krem confirmed. He wasn't sure it was really all that much of a consolation, much like knowing or supposing that they still existed back home--most of them, some of them, the ones that could.

That was a whole different story. He wasn't sure it mattered, really.

He topped up his wine, and then Adaline's, and smiled. "The food is all very delicious, since I haven't said so yet."

"Thank you," says Adaline, and she beams at the compliment. She raises her wine glass in a toast. "I have learned some useful things over the years. A few, at least."

"I'm sure more than just some," Krem said, not generous but truthful. He didn't like to see people sell themselves short, even if he was prone to it at times himself. But he knew where his strengths were at, and was more than willing to admit to them when it was necessary; it wasn't bragging when it was honesty, as far as he considered.

Under the table, he hooked his foot casually around the back of one of Adaline's ankles. "Any plans on dessert, beside the beer I brought?"

The casual contact makes Adaline smile, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as she shifts, extending her leg towards him under the table.

"Well, I didn't bake," she says. "But there's fruit? And ice-cream for me."

"You remembered," Krem said with a smile, not surprised but happy. Krem couldn't really blame Noah for forgetting, he supposed; it was a marvel of magic for Noah to be able to experience food again, and Krem would have forgiven him the world to try whatever he wanted to.

"Fruits sounds very nice." Then, a little mischievously but with a picture of an innocent smile on his face, he asked, "I don't suppose you have an chocolate sauce for your ice cream?"

To her credit, Adaline's face doesn't really change. She does raise an eyebrow slightly, though. Her face, she knows, lends itself to cool and appraising. She gives Krem her best look.

"I do."

Krem smiled at her arched eyebrow and subtly tilted lips. He polished off his pasta, topped off their wine glasses with the last of the bottle, and hummed a little.

"The beer's a dark one, I think it would go good with some chocolate and fruit," he said, conversational and speculative. His eyes skated appreciatively over her, and he didn't think he needed to say anything else besides that, so he didn't.

What he's suggesting is clear enough from the way he's looking at her. Adaline feels her cheeks start to heat.

"Are you ready?" She asks. "For dessert?"

"Oh, I suppose," Krem said, sipping his wine contemplatively, the picture of innocence in the wake of his implication that Adaline had so obviously picked up on. He smiled gently at her and leaned back in his chair. "I wouldn't want to rush you, after all. We have the whole night, don't we?"

"We absolutely do," says Adaline. She hadn't liked to assume that he'd be staying the night, but she's gratified to hear that that's his intention. "Do you want me to get things for you or are you going to forage for yourself?"

"Oh, I suppose I can forage," Krem said. He collected his plate from the table with great aplomb, heading into the kitchen to wash up a little bit. Not set about cleaning--even though Adaline had cooked, which dictated that he ought to offer to do the dishes; he would, but not at the moment.

He opened the growler of beer, humming as he looked for the fruit and the chocolate sauce curiously, casting Adaline glances now and then.

Adaline sits at the table watching him, head tilted on one side, her braid skimmed over her shoulder, arms folded across her chest. She raises one eyebrow as he starts to go through her fridge.

"Do you want to eat at the table?"

"That does seem the easiest way to clean up, don't you think?"

He said it nonchalantly, finding strawberries in her fridge and smiling brightly. They were dark red, even for the season, and he was once again smitten with Darrow all over just for out of season fruit.

He bit into one. It was moist and rich, full of sweet juice that burst on his tongue. He purred brightly, smiling, then grabbed a handful of the strawberries out of their container to cut into quarters.

"Oh, definitely."

She picks up her wine glass and takes another swallow, watching him move around her kitchen, enjoying him in her space. "Eating in bed always makes a dreadful mess."

Krem finished cutting the strawberries, casually sucking the juice off his fingers. Even then, they had left his fingers and knuckles a little red from juice. It was a prophecy, probably, but that was just more reason to stay out here where things would be easier to clean up.

He grabbed a couple more whole berries, and returned to the kitchen with the beer and the berries and the chocolate.

"I figured, when you're ready for your ice cream, you could get that. So it wouldn't melt." He offered her one of the whole berries, held delicately between his fingers up to her lips.

A little shiver goes through her as she leans in and bites the fruit, juice and sweetness exploding in her mouth as her lips brush against his fingers.

"You're very sensible," she says, shielding her mouth with her fingers as she chews.

"Oh, I do try to be." He drizzled on of the berries with chocolate sauce, letting it get on his fingers, before lifting it to his mouth. He hummed demonstratively as he bit into it, focusing on the berry before licking and sucking his fingers clean.

That's obscene and Adaline stares, watching the dart of his tongue against his fingers. There's a sudden rush of heat between her legs and she feels her face flush.

"Mmhm."

Krem pretended like he was not fully aware of the way Adaline's eyes were tracking him. He decked a second strawberry in chocolate, and ate it like the first, practically moaning at the taste.

When he focused at Adaline after a moment, he smiled at her gently.

"I'm sorry," he murmured with a smirk. "Am I distracting you?"

"Entirely," she says, with a sharply arched eyebrow. She leans back in her chair, folding her arms under her breasts. "And you know it."

Krem kept up that smile as he lifted from his chair. He grabbed the growler and drank directly from it, savoring the rich, dark taste of the beer as he circled around the table to Adaline, until he stood behind her.

Gently, he pushed her braid over her shoulder so her neck was exposed.

"I suppose," he murmured as he leaned in and brushed his mouth against her throat, "I ought to properly distract you then."

Adaline lets her head tip back against Krem's shoulder, her hand slipping back to graze against his thigh as he kisses her neck. Here, the height difference actually seems to be useful.

"I'm always open to distractions," she says, her voice gone a little breathy.