Tea Parties in Boston

53 - Positive tension

December 4th, 2022, Boston

Logan woke to the low hum of Craig Cardiff and FTSE's 'Dirty Old Town' playing on his bluetooth speaker in the living room. It wasn't loud - he just had good hearing. The song was haunting in its low notes, and its lyrics reminded him of last night when involuntarily every love-song they'd heard, or dance to, had touched them specifically, almost making them forget it had been someone else's' wedding.

But the fact that he was in bed alone and the music was one way out there, Logan had to assume Rory was up. He would've loved snuggling for a little while longer this morning and enjoy the bliss they'd created last night - the mental and physical intimacy he now realized he'd missed deep in his bones.

Logan pulled himself out of bed, finding his robe missing from the back of the door, assuming Rory was wearing it, and settled for a t-shirt, the morning air feeling a little chilly on his skin.

He made it to the kitchen after a quick trip to the bathroom - it was just as the song switched to something he'd never heard before - something in Swedish or Danish maybe? Surely not Icelandic. He could never really tell the Scandinavian languages apart.

What he hadn't expected thought, was to find Rory humming along the song, actually attempting to sing along with the lyrics - "Og æ veit du vil tebake te da vi var himmeblå...," which naturally didn't come out of her mouth quite as the singer had originally intended.

"Who are you and what have you done with Rory?" Logan murmured as he slipped his arms around Rory's hips from behind her, burying his lips to the side of her neck, laying a gentle kiss on her skin which caused her to feel ticklish, but smile nonetheless.

The sight of her making him an omelet, by the looks of it, only added to his confusion. Sure, by now he knew she was capable in the kitchen, but it was still an unfamiliar sight. Especially along with the foreign language off-key singing.

"Good morning," Rory chimed, turning around, his hand barely leaving her hips as she did, and kissed him by holding onto his cheek, the spatula idly in her other hand. "And here I was thinking I'd get you breakfast in bed," she added, pretend-dissapointedly.

Rory was indeed wearing his robe, and underneath... not a whole lot as could be seen from Logan's current viewpoint. The valley of her breast definitely drew his eyes South. She seemed to be reading him pretty well, but refrained from scolding him by reminding him where her eyes were, considering the attention was rather enjoyable.

Rory could honestly say that it was Logan with whom she'd first learned to really flirt with - everything else until that having just been testing the water.

"Breakfast could still be had in bed..," Logan suggested with a hint of more in his eyes. There was a mannerism that was inherently his - the way his thumb caressed her cheek but his fingers slid into her hair as if studying her very carefully.

That hold on each-other definitely created the butterflies they'd also felt the night before - a wave of electricity causing them to pause and swallow in anticipation of more.

"I'll hold you to it," Rory chimed, in that special sing-song voice of hers that was almost borderline emotional. Much like during their goodbye in New Hampshire.

The two of them together continued to be a minefield of hurt and nostalgic memories - a single look, moments of thought - every tiny gesture or facial expression holding some underlying meaning. Or at the very least they were left guessing whether they did. Starting from scratch was impossible.

"Oh crap, the eggs," Rory exclaimed, pulling herself out of their moment. She turned, and pondered - whether in time they need to grieve the loss of their time together or the need to keep apologizing would ever go away.