12 Days of Ichabbie Christmas - Day 5: Dinner and Dessert
*Sorry for the delay*
They worked side-by-side in companionable silence as the sounds of Christmas songs - smooth jazz style - came through the speakers of the iPod dock. He chopped, she kneaded. She seasoned, he baked. The counters were littered with vegetable shavings, shopping bags filled with meat trimmings, discarded paper towels and at least a dozen opened seasoning containers.
They’d started shortly after noon. Abbie pulled out her favorite Christmas recipes and Ichabod shared his favorite traditional ideas with her. After a brief rundown of what each of them couldn’t live without and what they’d be willing to try, the each set about making their favorite dishes for Christmas dinner. This wasn’t going to be some over-the-top, tons of friends and family event. This Christmas was going to be just for them.
The scents of figs baking in their pudding, roasted sirloin with oyster sauce, zesty greens and candied yams mingled in the air, filling the house with the smells and feeling of the holidays. They iced cutouts together, each focused on producing the perfect cookie. Occasionally, Ichabod’s hand would graze her lower back or Abbie’s hips would rub up against his. Still, they said nothing. They didn’t have to. They conveyed everything they needed to with a smile, a glance or by touch.
It was dusk when the entire meal was finally arranged in decorative holiday dishes and placed with care on the dining room table. Abbie heaped mound of yams and greens on both her plate and Crane’s while he sliced the sirloin for them both. When they sat to eat, it was next to each other - still not a word spoken between the two - their legs leaning against the other’s beneath the table.
Ichabod cleared the table and nodded toward the living room. Abbie poured them both a glass of wine and sat in front of the low fire waiting for the dessert that was to come. When he returned to her side, Ichabod had a single plate with one cookie and one fork on it. As Abbie ws about to finally break the hours long silence that had stretched on between them, Ichabod spooned warm pudding into her slightly open mouth.
The treat was warm and sweet and he’d gotten as much in her mouth as around it. She didn’t get a chance to lick her lips clean before he leaned in and took care of it himself. His tongue brushed against her lips and then slid between them slowly, kissing away any and all trace of the dessert. When he pulled away, Ichabod gazed deeply into Abbie’s brown eyes, a hint of mirth in his ice blue ones.
“Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.”
“Merry Christmas, Crane.”