RP: Sunshine and bevvies Who: Jon Snow and Robb McLellan When: Saturday, 11th May; early afternoon Where: Their place in Santa Ana, Ca. Status: Complete Word Count: 5,474
With the weather acting more springlike than knocking on the dreaded back door of a steamy Southern California summer, Robb had thrown all the windows wide today, giving the house one last good airing before it would have to be shut tight for the season. Central air conditioning cranking at full blast for months on end made a serious dent in the pocketbook, but Robb couldn't, wouldn't live any other way. He'd traded rain for snow, then snow for sun in his relatively short life.
Someday, he vowed, I'll live where the weather isn't one extreme or the other.
Seasons. Wet, earthy-smelling springs; summers that didn't take it out of you; bright autumn leaves; and just enough snowfall in the winter for the world to look fresh and new and unspoiled.
That's what Robb really wanted. A balance between light and dark and every color of the spectrum in between.
He'd found at least one piece of the delicate puzzle in Jon. Two unlikely expatriates in the Land of Make Believe, they'd arrived on opposing shores, only to be drawn together like magnets. The very odds of that happening far too astronomical to contemplate, really. Fate had thrown them together, their bond made even tighter, more secure and stable what with Jon finally taking that last step and agreeing to move in.
Their little corner of South Van Ness Avenue, smack dab in the middle of Santa Ana.
Not just Robb's home now, but Jon's too.
Curtains fluttering in the breeze and a quirky live performance of a Mothers of Invention-era Frank Zappa tune booming through vintage JBL speakers, Robb happily puttered around the kitchen preparing cocktails.
Proper spring weather called for something light on the palate. Zippy citrus tang balanced with just enough fruity sweetness to make everything sing. Bourbon for a bit of kick, of course. And for the occasion of Jon's first full weekend living there, Robb pulled out one of his better bottles of American distilled whiskey.
Juicing and blending; a dash of this and that, then everything into a cocktail shaker with plenty of ice for several good shakes. Mesh strainer at the ready, pureed strawberries, bitters, booze, lemon, sugar and spice got sieved with care then poured into chilled crystal tumblers compliments of Dalla Rayder. No poncy flutes for these boys, thanks much.
Top it off with a splash of prosecco for some fizz and voila!
"Krasevyi," Robb called out, rapping knuckles against the wooden casing of the small window above the sink to get his boyfriend's attention. "Bevvies are ready."