Vacation in Saint-Malo
It's been another lovely day at the Tonks-Wrangle house in Saint-Malo, the weather warm and clear, with a gorgeous breeze coming off the sea. Inara had woken late, enjoying the luxury of the big bed, to Mal's returning from an early walk through the town. He'd grinned and held up a bag of fresh shrimp and fish and she'd returned the grin, telling him she'd surprise him with something interesting for dinner.
They'd spent a few hours on the beach, Inara's skin turning a deeper bronze with each day. Mal retreated after a bit to huddle under an umbrella, sketching on a pad she'd bought him as a joke, telling him that his cats were wonderful, but maybe he'd like to try drawing beach life, as it had less fur. He'd turned the joke on her by spending time every day with the pad and pencils and the results weren't bad. He's hung a particularly good one of a seagull walking near the waves on the refrigerator with a note to Bernard.
After even Inara had had enough sun, they headed back to the house and cleaned up and while Mal took a nap, Inara started making dinner. She felt spoiled by the large kitchen, once she'd figured out the appliances. They didn't have a gas stove aboard the spaceship - go figure. She'd also had an unfortunate incident with the blender. She was using a recipe book she'd found in one of the cabinets and while she understood what the instructions were calling for, it took her a while to locate the actual physical blender. She'd poured in the lime and coconut juices and various spices, then stood back, eyeing the various buttons along the bottom. She'd chosen one at random, pressed it, then shrieked when a fountain of liquid exploded up and out of the top of the jar, drenching her shirt, most of the counter and the lid to the jar that she'd neglected to put on top. As a vicious grinding noise shook the machine, she stabbed various buttons, trying to get it to turn off, the liquid shooting out at varying speeds and heights with each respective button, til the gŏu cào de thing finally turned off and she managed to stop swearing.
After she changed (thanking Mal for being a heavy sleeper while she got fresh clothes from the bedroom), as she chopped and stirred, she thought about living like this, how different this was from anything she'd been raised to expect. She'd studied some of the pictures around the house, the happy groups, the love of the family obvious in every frame. She'd held one picture of Tonks and infant Anthony for several minutes, her thoughts wandering. What it would be like to have a normal life, settled in one place, with children and a house. She'd shrugged, and set the picture back carefully.
The pots were steaming, the rich scent of seafood filling the kitchen when Mal wandered in, yawning slightly and scratching his chest. He lifted the lid of the nearest pot and took a breath.
"Smells good, 'Nara. Dinner almost ready?"
"Almost," she replied, giving his hand a swat, "if you keep that lid on. Set the table and it should be ready by the time you're done."
Mal gave a half-hearted grumble and moved to lay out two places and opened a bottle of wine. Inara moved the food to platters and brought it over, served them both and then seated herself. She looked at Mal over her wineglass, grinning as he took a cautious bite of the dinner, then attacked it with relish. After he swallowed, she leaned over and gave him a firm kiss on the lips.
He looked at her, a bit surprised. "What was that for?"
She just smiled.
They'd spent a few hours on the beach, Inara's skin turning a deeper bronze with each day. Mal retreated after a bit to huddle under an umbrella, sketching on a pad she'd bought him as a joke, telling him that his cats were wonderful, but maybe he'd like to try drawing beach life, as it had less fur. He'd turned the joke on her by spending time every day with the pad and pencils and the results weren't bad. He's hung a particularly good one of a seagull walking near the waves on the refrigerator with a note to Bernard.
After even Inara had had enough sun, they headed back to the house and cleaned up and while Mal took a nap, Inara started making dinner. She felt spoiled by the large kitchen, once she'd figured out the appliances. They didn't have a gas stove aboard the spaceship - go figure. She'd also had an unfortunate incident with the blender. She was using a recipe book she'd found in one of the cabinets and while she understood what the instructions were calling for, it took her a while to locate the actual physical blender. She'd poured in the lime and coconut juices and various spices, then stood back, eyeing the various buttons along the bottom. She'd chosen one at random, pressed it, then shrieked when a fountain of liquid exploded up and out of the top of the jar, drenching her shirt, most of the counter and the lid to the jar that she'd neglected to put on top. As a vicious grinding noise shook the machine, she stabbed various buttons, trying to get it to turn off, the liquid shooting out at varying speeds and heights with each respective button, til the gŏu cào de thing finally turned off and she managed to stop swearing.
After she changed (thanking Mal for being a heavy sleeper while she got fresh clothes from the bedroom), as she chopped and stirred, she thought about living like this, how different this was from anything she'd been raised to expect. She'd studied some of the pictures around the house, the happy groups, the love of the family obvious in every frame. She'd held one picture of Tonks and infant Anthony for several minutes, her thoughts wandering. What it would be like to have a normal life, settled in one place, with children and a house. She'd shrugged, and set the picture back carefully.
The pots were steaming, the rich scent of seafood filling the kitchen when Mal wandered in, yawning slightly and scratching his chest. He lifted the lid of the nearest pot and took a breath.
"Smells good, 'Nara. Dinner almost ready?"
"Almost," she replied, giving his hand a swat, "if you keep that lid on. Set the table and it should be ready by the time you're done."
Mal gave a half-hearted grumble and moved to lay out two places and opened a bottle of wine. Inara moved the food to platters and brought it over, served them both and then seated herself. She looked at Mal over her wineglass, grinning as he took a cautious bite of the dinner, then attacked it with relish. After he swallowed, she leaned over and gave him a firm kiss on the lips.
He looked at her, a bit surprised. "What was that for?"
She just smiled.