There was a quiet nervousness between them, which was a strange contribution to the years of comfortable friendship they had shared, though the nights of raucous shows and drinking and smashing things were over. Both of them had remained true to their roots, tattooed and pierced well into their 30s, even when they'd got responsible, got married, and started having kids. Both of their divorces had been finalized for a while, his about a year, hers almost two. While they had still continued to hang out in the time since their respective splitsvilles, it had generally been in groups, for bar nights and dinner parties.
He was tall, over 6 foot, with a strong masculine jaw, and brilliant eyes. His shoulders were broad, and his body solid, from years of mosh pits and weight lifting. His strong arms were covered with tattoos, and his muscles strained against the thin cotton fabric of the Bouncing Souls t-shirt he wore.
She was about 5'7", with a cascade of red curls and bright red lipstick. She had an inclination towards vintage dresses that showed off her hourglass figure, and today was no exception. Her nose was graced with a small silver ring, and she had 1" plugs in her ears which were black with white stars.
Today, they had run into eachother at the park, both taking advantage of a weekend with their kids. The gentle strength of his character stood out to her, as it had all the time she'd known him, but as he watched protectively over the children, she shyly spouted off an offer that had never occurred to her before.
"Dinner?" He asked, turning toward her, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Are you doing another dinner party?"
"No." She flushed, but firmly retained eye contact. "I want to make you dinner. ...You and me."
Her nervousness was palpable, and he took a deep breath, his eyes taking in the figure he'd been admiring since they met at a drunken house party when they were both in their early 20s. Her DD breasts pushed up out of the bodice of her black polka-dot dress, and he had to fight to return his eyes to her face. "What about the kids?" He asked softly.
She glanced back at the playground, tearing herself away from the tenderness in his eyes. "They seem to be getting along just fine. What if the girls get to stay at your house tonight, I know a great babysitter, we can get them pizza and a movie, and then... you can come hang out with me. It's... it's been a while."
He'd agreed that it'd been a long time since they'd just hung out, but there seemed something hanging in her offer. Something nervous and tentative. And now, they had dropped off the girls (who were ecstatic in the face of sleepovers, pizza, movies, and a teenage babysitter with a stash of nailpolish), and the nervousness was palpable. She moved around the kitchen, frenzied and distracted, without the calmness that she generally took on when cooking. He stood in the doorway, unable to help smiling as she scurried around the kitchen, wearing the same dress she had at the park, but with an apron with skulls tied around her waist, red hair falling into her face. She looked like nothing so much as a frazzled 50's housewife, getting ready for her husband to get home before she retouched her lipstick.
This thought pleased him, it brought images of her in classic Bettie Page wear, and he was somewhat surprised to realize how desperately he wanted to touch her.
"Fuck!" The expletive broke his reverie as she dropped a knife and immediately popped her thumb in her mouth.
The image of her posing provocatively while putting a pie in the oven was jerked from his mind as he watched her cherry red lips sucking gently on her thumb, her face sullen as it stared at the offending onion.
"Hey." He came up behind her, enfolding her in his arms. "Calm down. It's me." She looked up at him, smiling in embarrassment, and he slipped her thumb out of her mouth, examining it. "It's not bad. What are you, a girl or something?" She laughed, and he bent down and kissed her softly.
At first she jumped slightly, but then she melted in his arms, his lips were pillow-soft against hers, and she parted her lips to taste the sweetness of him. He could taste the slight bite of onion juice, and the coppery taste of her blood, and drew her closer against him.
After a long, affectionate kiss, they broke away from eachother, and smiling, he took the knife from her hands and took over, flaunting knife skills that dwarfed her own, chopping onions and julienning carrots, with a smug smirk on his face.
She laughed, and they finished making the meal together, broiling potatoes, searing steaks, and creating a delicious sauce to tie it together in a companionable silence, sometimes laughing when they caught glimpse of the other's shy faces.
After, they ate on the porch, listening to Bad Religion, and chatting as comfortably as they ever had. He had picked up a growler of a dark stout to go with the steaks, and they shared it, drinking out of the bottle as they had in the old days. When it started getting cold, he took his heavy leather jacket off and draped it over her shoulders, and she smiled, breathing deeply of his scent.
She continued wearing it as they went inside, and started playing video games. She got out her Nintendo 64 and they played 007 and MarioKart. At some point, the high ABV's of the stout started catching up with her, and she giggled, sliding off the couch. He grinned down at her, sitting at his feet, and brushed her hair out of her face. She smiled, lying her head on his leg, and seeing her kneeling in front of him made his heart race. "Can... can I kiss you again?" He asked, that strange awkwardness of seeing someone in a new light rushing up suddenly.
"Can I kiss you?" She echoed.
"Of course." He laughed, softly, and then caught his breath as she turned her face against his leg, pressing a kiss through the denim covering his thigh. He suddenly felt dizzy looking down at her. He ran his large fingers through the bright red hair that seemed determined to fall into her face, as she pressed her lips slightly higher up on his thigh.
