Close Quarters / hs

Table for Two

"Is that my shirt?"

Harry glanced down at the bright green Packers t-shirt peeking out from the polka dot apron tied around his waist. "Suppose it is," he admitted casually, turning from the cooktop with a slow grin. "Got tomato sauce all over my hoodie and grabbed the first thing from the dryer."

"Hmm, convenient..." Some things apparently never changed, and apparently you kind of loved it.

"Isn't that my shirt?" he shot back, his gaze raking over you with zero subtlety.

You lifted your chin. "What's your point?"

"Love when you wear m'stuff," he replied simply, a sudden inhibition that made your stomach flutter.

It had been nearly two weeks of domestic quarantining together after a crew member on set tested positive for Covid and production shut down. Harry was disappointed, of course, but it was a risk he'd accepted and was taking it in stride.

And when he offered, you made the decision to hole up here at his rental. Did you really need to isolate? Maybe not, but considering you'd already been staying most nights here and still had the option to work remotely, it felt...right. For lots of reasons. The least of which being the home's incredible kitchen, and since you'd be spending Thanksgiving here...

"C'mere, have a taste."

Harry held out a spoonful of rich sauce, one hand cupped underneath as you readily obliged. He looked on in anticipation while you closed your eyes and groaned.

"Oh my god," you sighed, tongue darting out to capture a bit more that hadn't quite made it into your mouth.

He was rapt, a slow grin as his gaze moved from your mouth to meet your eyes as they opened again. "S'good, right?"

"So good," you emphasized. "What kind of Italian voodoo did you put in this?"

He shrugged, his dimpled cheeks flushed from the heat of the cooktop and your praise. "The woman at the little market in Parma told me this combination was 'magia,'" he explained. "Seems she's a real wizard."

You nodded emphatically. "Who needs a turkey when you can eat actual magic."

Harry chuckled. "You've got a little magic..." he reached up to run his thumb under your lower lip. "Right here."

With an appreciative hum, you caught his thumb in your mouth. He swallowed hard, and when you released it he leaned close for a slow, lingering kiss.

"You're about to bubble over," you finally mumbled against his lips, nodding toward the pot.

He sighed, pecking at your mouth one last time before turning back to the stove. "How's Thanksgiving in Wisconsin, love?" he asked now.

You smiled a little wistfully as you moved to the fridge and removed a carton of cream. "Snowing." Sure enough, the backdrop of the Zoom call with your family back home was in stark contrast to the warm LA sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.

"Oi," he grimaced, reaching for the cooking dish on the counter beside him. "Seems a bit over eager. Christmastime doesn't officially start until tomorrow, right?"

With a laugh, you poured the cream into a mixing bowl on the kitchen island. "I'm afraid it's fair game half the year in Wisconsin, H."

You rolled your eyes as he shivered dramatically. "And you call yourself a Packers fan. You do realize you're gonna need to toughen up before I can take you to a game."

The words were out of your mouth before you could give them much thought, but his lips immediately quirked into a thoughtful grin.

"You'd take me to a game, hmm?"