Re: Dinner: Cris/Lou/Sam
It took him an extra five minutes to get home, huh? His gym pants packed in a plastic bag with the dress shirt he'd worn outta the apartment in the morning, and folders stacked underneath, Cris ran—not literally, 'cause he wasn't real capablea that right now—down to Third Street to pick up a bottlea rum, per Sam's text. 'Course the general store wasn't real well-stocked in termsa having a lotta options, but the bottle said it was rum, even if it wasn't no kind Cris (or any other good Cuban) had hearda.—It took a couple minutes to get back to the station, get everything outta the car, and upstairs, but, for a guy with a bum knee, it was pretty record time. Especially considering he'd hadta tell the deputies, who were all up in arms 'bout the Feds infringing on everything, he was gonna be working from home for the next couplea days, what with his knee and all.
Y, dios, was he glad to be getting a couplea days mostly free, huh? After the (loud) afternoon with Sam, after that stunt pulled by Meredith, and after the egg thing, he could use some quiet. Not literally. Just figurative. 'Cause, coming up the stairs slow, using the railing lots, he could hear music, salsa, bright. It flowed humid, bass notes under his feet, and mixing with the rich, familiar scenta slow-cooked pork, sweet and spicy in air Cris knew would be thick, almost needing to be swallowed to breathe—and, yeah, he was glad he was getting a couplea days home.
He opened the door with a quick tugga fingers and a bumpa his hip to get everything in in one go. He wasn't used to having to take trips, so he was kinda overwhelmed with bags and stuff, but he made it with only a sheena sweat pricking on his forehead. The heat and music and food flooded over him, swamped him, cut with ribbonsa kretek, and Cris, not yet looking up (with his sunglasses hanging almost to his nose), sang (pretty loud) to himself as he tried to get everything from the doorway to the dining table. "Tu cuerpo y el mio llenando el vacío—" He knew the song, huh? The rich penny-brighta salsa tasted good on his tongue, and he only shut up, 'cause he looked up to see Sam glossing her lips in red delicious shine.—She'd changed clothes. Mustard tights, and skirt and (thin) top, and she looked good. Her skin was dewy from, he was guessing, standing over the stove. The guy picked up where he'd left off, catching back up to the beat as he grinned at Sam, "Ese fuego por dentro me va enloqueciendo, me va saturando."
He'd changed too since she'd been in his office. The sunglasses he shoved up into black-thatch hair, and the camiseta was the same, a lil scrubbier and wrinkled now under La Caridad. But, least he'd put back on dress pants. Sam said something earlier 'bout dressing up, huh?
The guy stopped in the oasis between couches on his way to Sam. And with a grimace at the benda his knee, he dropped quick to pick up Joey. Her bow was adorable and she looked happy. Ted yawned, his tail wagging, but he didn't bother moving too much, 'cept to roll onto his back. Cris gave the pup's belly a pat and stood with the baby cradled against his bicep and chest. He had a pretty good singing voice. He wasn't shy, and, at home, he was shameless, so he kept on with the song, even if he couldn't dance. "Con tu física y tu química también tu anatomía. La cerveza y el tequila y tu boca con la mía—" By the window now, where the clove blossomed heavy, the guy leaned his hip against Sam and her sill. If he noticed a tremble in white fingers, he didn't say nothing. He dipped as much as he could without putting weight wrong on his knee, to kiss the gringa. Lou would prolly be there in any minute, but it didn't matter. He'd prolly seen worse, right?
The kiss was open-mouthed, accompanied by Joey's gurgling around her binky, and Cris could taste the gloss from Sam's lips and the cloves from her tongue. When he pulled back, he looked at Sam. There was a lotta shit going on, including the stuff with Lou that would be coming to a head soon, no doubt, but, for right then, it was distant. Cris was with his girls, huh? Only missing Teresita. "You look good," he told her warm. He lifted his nose to sniff at the soupy air. "Mmm—huele que alimenta."