Catch the Thunder

Dirty Money

A/N: Audio drama recording: http://chirb.it/JNaAqd

Laxus woke up to something gently stroking his forehead. He smiled to himself as he felt the slender fingers soothing his brow and petting up into his hair. Slowly, blinking with early morning light, he opened his eyes to the glorious view of Freed gazing down on him.

Laxus reached up and cupped Freed's cheek still creased from the pillows. This was heaven. Waking up like this every morning ... he really could not think of anything more perfect.

They did not even need to say anything. They smiled at one another, both happy at being together to start the day, getting to spend the Saturday and the whole weekend together, just them, wrapped up in their own special world of love. Freed leaned over, Laxus threaded his fingers through his long hair to pulled him in, and their lips blessed the new day.

They took their time getting up, took turns using the bathroom to wash, chatted about the weather as they dressed, and finally left the condo holding hands. As they walked to Freed's Corvette, Laxus had a moment where he realized how utterly simple and domestic this was. They were lovers going out for breakfast on a Saturday morning.

How did I get so damn lucky?

Laxus had already picked where he wanted to eat and even set up reservations the day before to make sure they could get in without hassle. Freed was astonished at first. He knew the place from dinners with his parents, a truly top rated restaurant normally reserved for birthdays or other special occasions, not merely Saturday breakfast.

They entered and were showed to a booth set aside to give a bit of privacy. Laxus picked up his menu and studied it seriously. Freed glanced at the choices, knew what he wanted, and gazed across the table at Laxus. His brow was pinched. Why was he so quiet? That whole morning, they barely spoke at all. Freed was waiting, Laxus was uptight. What happened to him? What did he inherit? Why did he seem so changed if, according to him, nothing happened at the meeting of beneficiaries?

"The hell's quince jelly?"

Freed stifled a laugh at how serious he sounded. "Jelly made from quinces."

Laxus glared over the top of his menu, and Freed sputtered out a discrete laugh.

"It's a fruit. Like a tart pear."

"Eh, doesn't sound like enough. What's ... duck ... confit ... benedict? Am I saying that right?"

"It's French. Silent T. Cone-fey, not con-fit."

"Whatever. It's like duck and eggs, right?"

"Have you ever had duck confit?"

"Hell, I've never had eggs benedict, but I see it on menus a lot."

"I think you'll like that one."

"Yeah? And what are you gonna have?"

"Florentine crêpes."

"Those any good?"

"I haven't had them here, but Nana's were good."

"Nana?"

"Our chef at home."

"If you grew up with a chef, how come you're so good at cooking?"

"Nana was like a grandmother. I hung around her in the kitchens whenever my parents weren't home, and she showed me how to make good meals."

"I'm guessing your parents weren't around a lot."

Freed merely shrugged.

"Maybe in the long run, that's a good thing. You make amazing dinners now."