Nov. 2nd, 2010

ersatzach: (eyebrow)
Chris is helping my mom and Joe cook Thanksgiving dinner as I keep out of the way and offer moral support. I'm sitting on a counter, kicking my feet like I'm eight, and drinking Chris' coffee. He notices and comes over.

"Hey...that's my coffee..." he says, standing between my legs.

I smirk, hold it out so he can take a sip and he does. His face is all crinkly, his blue eyes sparkly. "Having fun?" I say.

"I am having one hell of a good time," he says with a grin. "Though...I don't think I should admit to my mom that I now know how to roast a turkey."

I chuckle. "Will she make you cook it next year if you do?"

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