Lunch Time

~ Hath

When we were done with the .50, we went back inside. It was February in Chicago after all, and I was freezing my ass off. When we got back in, we handed the rifle back to Ryan with a heartfelt “Thank you” from all of us. That was fun and oddly satisfying.

“You gotta bench?” I asked Ryan, and he knew what I meant. Nodding, he led us down a hall to a room perfumed with the unmistakable scent of Hoppe’s #9. *Deep inhale* Aaaah. Ha ha ha. I took my nine out of the case and broke it down. David watched in amazement as I disassembled the gun, cleaned the barrel, action, and clip seat, oiled everything and had it reassembled in under five minutes. I’ve been doing this a long time, and this is my favorite gun, so I know my way around it. He's been gawping like a fish the whole time. I may just have shocked poor David to his toes today.

Ryan was cleaning the rifles we used. We didn’t use the .22 pistol, so I just gave it a swipe with the oil rag. When it came to the .50, Ryan understandably wanted to clean it himself. I locked the gun back in its case, while Ang watched Ryan clean the rifle, and David looked at me.

“You aren’t going to holster it?”

I smiled. “I can do that when we get back to Lucy’s if you want, but we need to stop at the grocery store on the way back.”

“How come?” David asked.

I showed him my blackberry. Jon had texted me while we were shooting. Jeeves, soup and sandwiches. It’s cold ~Boss

David laughed, “Another edict from the Boss, huh?”

“Yeah, but it’s OK. I wanted soup for lunch.” I groaned. “He didn’t specify what kind.” Sigh. “Fuck him. I’m doing this my way.”

David held me close and nuzzled my neck. “I love it when you bitch about him like that,” he said.

Ang came over. “Giving her a matching bite, David?”

“No,” he said, grabbing for her. “I can give you one,” he said, pretending like he was going to bite her. She squeaked and shoved at him, but he was pretty strong himself, and had a pretty good grip on her.

“Hath, do something!” she begged.

I smiled an evil little smile, went to David and sunk my teeth into his neck. His eyes closed briefly, and he loosened his grip enough for Ang to slither free. Ryan was looking at us like we were all nuts.

“Sorry,” I said. “This is my fiancé, but Ang here has lusted after him for 20 years, so I cut her a little slack.”

Ang punched my arm, “Ow!” and laughing, we left Ryan shaking his head after us.

At the grocery store, we raided the produce aisle. It was nearly 10:30. I could get the soup going if we got back in the next 45 minutes. We grabbed broccoli, onions and potatoes. In the dairy aisle, we went for milk, cream, and various cheeses, and I grabbed a can of chicken stock, just in case. I snagged a loaf of wheat bread (Lucy only had white, and DAMN IT! I knew Jon had a preference for wheat) a pound of butter, chips and dip, and we checked out.

When we got into the car, David looked at me, and I holstered my empty weapon and seated it at the small of my back. The shirts covered it, and you couldn’t tell I was packing. Carrying concealed is one of the perks of having the FFL, but I’d never do it all the time. I mean, really, if I feel that unsafe somewhere that I need weaponry, I’m not going. But, David was oddly turned on by the thought of me with the gun, and as I said, I try to accommodate him, and it wasn’t loaded (I double checked, and put the safety on anyway) so yeah, I geared up.

Matt and Stephanie were in the living room when we got back. I could hear the shower going, and assumed Lucy and/or Richie were in there. Ha ha ha. Ang went to go get cleaned up in the downstairs bathroom. Steph and I left the men in the living room, and went into the kitchen.

“Did you have fun?” Steph asked me. I told her about Ryan and David shooting, and the .50, and she smiled. I really did have fun. “That’s great, Hath,” she said. “What can I help you do?”

“His royal pain-in-the-assness wants soup and sandwiches for lunch. He didn’t specify, so I picked. Wanna help get one of the soups going?”

Steph worked on the broccoli and cheese soup, and I got the potato stoup (as Rachel Ray would call it) started. It was a thick and hearty soup that was really more like a stew, and it was just the thing for a cold day. I got the crock-pot going, and diced and cooked the potatoes while the liquids were mixed. When the taters were done, I put the whole thing to simmer. It’d be ready in a couple hours.

Steph had the broccoli soup simmering, and the kitchen smelled heavenly. Richie stumbled into the kitchen about quarter to noon.

“Are you seriously just getting up?” I asked him, shaking my head.

“Nice outfit, G.I. Jane. What happened to you?” he asked, heading over to me after greeting Steph with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he smirked. His face changed drastically when he wrapped his arm around my waist, and felt the holster. “What the hell is that?”

I turned and lifted the hem so he could see.

“You’re armed?” Richie was incredulous. “You’ve had that with you the whole time?”

I shook my head at him. “No, darlin’, just strapped it on for David," I said.

The man in question came into the kitchen then, with Matt in tow. “Something smells awesome,” he said.

“It’s lunch,” Stephanie answered, “and it isn’t ready yet. Shoo!” We all went back to the living room to chat and visit. Lucy came down and told Richie the shower was free.

“Don’t piss off Hath,” he said, smiling, then loped up the stairs. I flipped off his retreating back. I was having such a good time. I wish we all lived closer together so we could do this more. Around 12:30, the door opened, and Sam and Jon came in. Well, Sam came in, Jon sorta sauntered. Oh Christ, what was he going to do now.

“What smells so good?”

“Lunch,” I said defiantly. “Two kinds of soup that will be ready in about half an hour, and we’re making grilled cheese. Comfort food for a cold day.”

“But I didn’t tell you what I wanted,” Jon complained.

“Right, your mistake, so you’re stuck with what I made.” I turned to flounce from the room. Thank God he didn’t say anything about the hickey.

“Uh, Jeeves,” he said, and I stopped, my shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, boss?” I said warily.

“I thought you wanted to have the morning off to go shooting? Did you get shot in the neck?”

“No, somewhere lower,” I said, staring him in the face, though my cheeks were on fire.

“Be nice to her, man,” Richie called from the stairs. “Bitch is packin’.”

Jon stared. “What?”

I reached behind me and pulled the gun from its holster and held it out to him, barrel down, of course. Jon took it from me, checked the safety, the action, and clip, turned it in his hand, and handed it back. “Nice hardware,” he said, handing it back.

"I like it," i said and did a little Annie Oakley twirl with hit before sliding it back into my holster. I took the whole holster from my pants and locked it back in its box. I've had just about enough of that.

Ang was sitting on the floor, going through her photos with David over her shoulder. They've been really funny together -- like they've been friends forever. She'd made some crack to Richie that had him redder than a body ought to, and she flipped off Jon -- she's assimilated now. Not to say we forget who they are, but now that's just their job, not them.

Matt was adjusting, too. In just a few short days, he's become one of the guys. He and Steph went outside to catch some air -- I don't think the get too much alone time. I went to sit with David, who was in the chair I've taken over as my own. Hey, my ass was going on that chair, and if he was in the way, well, that's his fault. We were all talking and David had something he wanted to ask Steph so he went to open the front door.

I think he just wanted to catch them necking so he could be an ass.

He got quite a surprise though.