Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: A Private World
by Frogg
"-- so I should be there in about twenty minutes."
Derek smiled. "Dinner will be waiting."
"Dinner's a bonus. I just want you."
Derek's heart clenched in his chest. For a long moment, he was silent, listening to his own suddenly ragged breathing and the faded sounds of evening traffic over the cell phone. "I miss you."
"Soon. And you can have me," there was a laugh of rueful amusement in Spencer's voice, "all weekend."
A soft hum of anticipation and arousal had set in long before; the promise and affection, and yes, love, in that quiet declaration ratcheted it up a notch. "Spencer?"
"Mmhmm?"
"When you get here? Don't bother knocking. Just come on in."
Spencer laughed. "As you wish."
After an achingly reluctant goodbye, Derek put the phone back on its cradle, turning to make sure everything was ready, double- and triple-checking. Salad staying crisp and cold in the refrigerator, dessert chilling on the shelf below them. Bread and steaks, sweet potatoes and roasted vegetables warm in the oven, sauce in the covered pan on the stove. Table set, cream-colored tablecloth, wine glasses, bottle in an ice bucket on the breakfront. Small, elegant bouquets of orchids and other flowers he hadn't bothered to learn the names of. Soft jazz playing in the background, CD changer on shuffle. And candles.
There was nothing left to do but wait. Nervous energy drove him back to the kitchen, candles flickering in the breeze caused by his passing.
A glance at the clock showed twelve minutes had passed since he'd hung up the phone.
Spencer would be home soon.
No, Derek thought to himself, Spencer is home now. This is just where I live.
end