Re: Daniel/Chris - Rec Room Pool Entry - 7:15 p.m.
Chris followed at a small distance, using one foot to carefully brush the crutches back at Daniel's chair. He wanted badly to put a hand on Daniel's shoulder, his head, ruffle his hair, plant a kiss on his forehead as some reassuring sign that everything was going to be fine and to say thank you for tolerating his wishes. But the most he did was linger a little closer to the other man, looking down at where he was seated. Once Daniel was done complaining, through all of which Chris was hardpressed to bite back a smile, he spoke.
"One, I did say we could wrap your cast up with a plastic bag. Target's making them pretty fashionable these days. Two, you're damned lucky that you're adorable when you're whining. And, three, don't count your chickens before they hatch. I'm gonna go get us some plates, OK?" At the very least, somewhat before he could stop himself (or so he would later claim, that his body moved of its own accord), one hand reached out to tap Daniel under the chin in a chiding motion. Then, before Daniel could stop him (see: attempt to) or talk against his suggested action, Chris was moving away and around the pool toward the food table. It was a long, slow journey, but he did it uncomplainingly; despite the heat, he was still in jeans (no way he was wearing shorts that might expose his brace, and he'd laugh at anyone who suggested he bring his cane) but alleviated himself a little via a black wife beater. Sneakers clad his feet.
He made quick work of his chosen mission, filling two plates with a little of everything, and balancing those on one arm. The other hand was used to carefully haul two three-quarters filled cups of punch back to Daniel; the whole process was fairly impressive.
"Mark of a waiter," he commented. "Summers at my grandparents' restaurant. Kinda like riding a bike, you never forget it." He held out one of the cups toward Daniel, and then passed him a plate. His own plate and cup went on a seat next to his significant other, followed by a motion that pulled a small, silver flask from his pocket. "Vodka pairs pretty well with fruit punch, don't you think? Though, wait, you're on painkillers, right? No heavy machinery for you." He waggled the flask in front of Daniel, waiting for the other man to take it.