“Just looking up more information on the Omega Wellness Clinic.” I smile and nod my head and don’t chime in at all. It’s become clear to me that Piper doesn’t like to be pushed. She needs to do this on her own. I can respect that.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” I ask.
“Oh, I bought groceries, so I’ll cook,” Piper says. I arch an eyebrow at her. It’s been weeks, and she hasn’t cooked anything. She has been buying a ton of takeout and snacks around the house lately, which I truly have enjoyed, but I’m not sure my oven has ever been used by her or myself.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Owen says.
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.” She pats his head. “Get up, and I’ll go get started,” she says softly. Owen smiles up at her and moves. I’m not sure how they are both holding back, but they are. I had everything about his appointment parroted to me, and I get it. No matter how much I may fantasize about Owen going into heat, it needs to be at the right time.
Owen gets up only to flop his head into my lap, and I pick back up where Piper left off. His soft blond hair is between my fingertips as he closes his eyes and sighs.
Piper is clanging pots and pans in the kitchen, and it’s at this moment I feel full. Full in a way hockey could only fill before. This… this is worth retiring for. I thought Owen’s eyes were shut, but when I look down, he’s looking at me appreciatively.
“What has that smile on your face?” he asks.
“Do I need a reason,so´lnyshka?”
“I guess not,” he says, closing his eyes, and I pet his hair more. I wonder if Owen just never embraced what he needed before. I don’t want to bring it to his attention and have him pull back, so I just shrug my shoulders.
“I’m just really happy,” I say, keeping it simple.
“I am too,” he says softly, burrowing his face further against my thigh.
Piper’s voice is low, but I hear her in the background and have to hold back a laugh. “Motherfucking cunt ass stove,” she mumbles. I’m proud to say that I held strong and don’t react, but Owen isn’t and uses my leg to hide his laughter.
Somehow, despite all the noise Piper is making, Owen falls asleep, and I’m splitting my attention between Piper and some mindless show on TV.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask her. She blows a piece of hair out of her mouth.
“You know I’ve closed people’s heads up after brain surgery, why is lasagna so fucking hard?”
“We could always just order in,” I say, and there's more clanking in the kitchen.
“No, it will be done soon,” she says.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
Piper makes a sound of disbelief but continues cooking. It smells good enough, and there haven’t been any plumes of smoke, so I consider that a win in my book.
I rest my eyes, and I’m not sure how, but I fall asleep as well. It must be about another thirty minutes when Piper comes into the living room. She looks a little worse for wear but gives us a smile.
“Okay, dinner’s done.”
“Thank you for cooking,” Owen says, getting up and lightly squeezing her hand before heading to the dining table. I follow suit as we all sit down.
We should have known by how hard Piper had to cut into the lasagna that it wasn’t going to go well. But she cuts us each a square and plates it. The garlic bread is slightly burnt, but nothing that you can’t scrape off.
Owen takes the first bite, and I have to prepare myself for how bad it’s going to be. But when I hear an audible crunch come from him, I have to use every ounce of self control to not laugh.
Somehow Owen finishes his bite and smiles. “It’s good, thanks, Piper.”
She gives him a smile and looks at me. I take a deep inhale and refrain from cringing when my fork cuts through the crunchy pasta. I bring the bite to my mouth and school my features as I chew and swallow.
“Yeah, thanks for cooking.”
Piper stands up, grabs the entire pan of lasagna and promptly throws it in the trash. “At least I know for sure that you both like me. That was horrible.”
“What the fuck happened?” I say with a laugh and push my plate away.
