Rest

Banner and Wattle were sitting together on a couch, holding hands. It was dinner time, but Banner didn’t want to get up and cook something. However, Wattle seemed hungry. Her stomach was growling. Banner got up when Wattle’s stomach growled so loud, it drowned out Banner’s voice in the conversation.

“Banner? I’m a bit hungry. Could you cook something for me?” Wattle asked. Banner smiled. Wattle already knew that the only food Banner would cook would be deep-fried meat and tea. 

“You know we could go to a restaurant or something. You would be able to pay for it and all,” Banner teased. She loved to poke fun at how much Wattle treated her to fancy restaurants.

“Nah. I like your cooking better. It’s more filling and you’re the best cook I know,” Wattle smiled. 

“You mean you’re too tired to drive to a restaurant?” Banner quipped. Wattle laughed and nodded. “Fine, I’ll deep fry some chicken for you. And I’ll make you some green tea too.” 

Banner got out the ingredients and she started making her famous deep-fried chicken. Wattle was on the couch in their living room, exhausted from the long day. 

“Are you okay, Wattle? Are you sick? You’re usually not this tired in the evening,” Banner said.

“I’ll be okay,” Wattle said. Then she got up and hugged Banner. “I’m glad I’m with you.”

Banner couldn’t resist hugging Wattle back. She murmured, “The food’ll burn...”

“It’s fine. You can always make more chicken,” Wattle said. She pulled Banner closer and they went back to the couch. Banner’s will to move slowly drifted away. She put her head against Wattle’s sturdy shoulder. Life was perfect. Wattle was perfect. Then Banner smelled something burning. She slowly pulled away and rushed to her deep-fryer.

“Darn it! The chicken is ruined,” Banner grumbled. She put out the small fire and threw out the burnt chicken. 

“I’m sorry,” Wattle murmured. Banner shook her head.

“It’s not your fault. And it’s fine. I’ll make another,” Banner said. She smiled. Wattle really was that sweet. “This time, though, I need to concentrate, okay?” she said.

“That’s fine,” Wattle said. After fully deep-frying the next chicken, Banner put it at the dinner table. 

“Your cooking really is good, Banner,” Wattle said, chewing a mouthful of chicken.

“You didn’t know that already?” Banner teased. “Thank you for, well, everything, Wattle. I’m glad that it’s you that’s with me.”

“Me too.” Wattle said.