The Big Rains - Sam and Dazzik

Chapter 5

Sam

Dazzik’s mouth slants over mine, cutting off my excited babble. Heat surges in my chest, pooling between my thighs, my body still so responsive to his touch, despite how many times we’ve touched each other now.

His kiss makes all the words fly out of my head and I arch closer to him, ready to slip my arms around his neck and give in to the need. Instead, I giggle as my body bumps into the two large fish in his hands. It breaks the moment, but I don’t mind. There will be plenty of time for kissing later.

“I should take those,” I say, holding out my hands. “You’ve saved my dinner plans. I’ll get started on the cooking - you go get warm and dry.”

“You really do not mind having to work because of my gift?”

I kiss his nose. “Of course not. I like cooking - it’s something I’m good at. I like cooking for you because it feels nice to take care of you. I’m excited to actually make you something instead of just reheating something someone else made. They’re a great gift, Dazzik, thank you.”

I mean it with every part of me. I hope he knows that. From the slow smile that spreads across his handsome face, I think he does.

As he goes to get changed, I get to work. There isn’t much by way of supplies in the cupboards in the kitchen. A few spices that have definitely seen better days, a few things that rotted away so long ago I can’t even tell what they are anymore. But there is salt. Salt doesn’t go off.

The fish are similar in shape to ones I’ve worked with back home, so it’s a familiar process to debone them and remove the organs. I fiddle round with the ovens until I figure them out, preheating them, then laying the fish on baking trays, sprinkling the salt over. While that’s baking, I rummage through the freezers, looking for the perfect compliments to the meal. I take veg from one dish, potatoes from another. We have more than enough food to survive until the rains stop, so it’s not like I need to worry about being wasteful.

Once everything is set and ready to go, just waiting on the fish to cook, I turn my attention back to my sad little table. My eyes land on the book that I saved for myself, along with the drink, and maybe, just maybe, my original vision is salvageable.

I put the drink in the freezer to chill, scraping off some of the ice from inside the freezer into a large bowl I find in one of the cupboards for later. Then I take out a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer and go over to the book.

By the time Dazzik returns, I’ve cut out enough illustration pages to cover our table, and even found a glass that I’ve put a rolled up picture of a flower in to simulate table decorations. There are no candles, but the dim light in the Mercenia hut is kind of the same thing. The bowl of ice has the bottle resting in it, and our plates are ready to be loaded up with fresh fish.

“I didn’t have a lot to work with for the food,” I say. “No nice raskarran herbs and spices. It might be a bit bland. But it will be fresh and different, and that will be wonderful.”

“It smells delicious,” Dazzik says, his voice rough with affection as I lead him over to our table.

“Here we go,” I say, gesturing to my creation. “One romantic dinner for two. Let me go and get everything served up quickly, then we can try our celebration drink.”

“Should we not save it for the day the rains end?”

It’s a thought, but I shake my head.

“We can celebrate that with a breath of fresh air and the sun on our skin. Let’s celebrate tonight for no reason at all. Just because we can. Because we’re together and we love each other and we are the two luckiest people in this whole forest because of that.”

“Yes,” Dazzik says, and I’m not sure what he’s agreeing to. All of it, maybe.

He takes his seat as I busy around plating our meal up, trying to make it look cute. I bring it over, presenting it to him with a flourish, and he breathes in the steam as it rises off the food, his expression one of approval.

“When we have our own hut and proper supplies, we can do this as often as you wish,” he says. “I will never say no to a fresh cooked meal with my linasha.”

He so rarely talks about the future - afraid to jinx it somehow, I think. To hear these words from him makes me feel a happy kind of teary.

“Would you open the drink?” I say, gesturing to it. I’ve managed to find two mugs to drink it out of, the one decent glass I found sacrificed for the table decorations. It’s not quite as classy as I imagined, but oh well. It feels right, somehow. This messy, muddled meal. Perfect for us and our current circumstances.

Dazzik takes the bottle, staring at it with confusion for a moment. I untwist the metal cap, revealing the cork.

“You need to pull that out.”

He nods, then does so, the cork releasing with a loud pop. Some of the drink sloshes out of the bottle, making me giggle.

“I bet it’s disgusting,” I say, pouring some into each of our mugs. I raise mine, beaming at him, before taking a sip.