February 2020 (pre-covid)

Dresden Gibson

     "Let's go away one weekend," I say to Cas over dinner. He looks tired, and he's doing paperwork on his laptop as he spoons soup into his mouth. It's February, and it's frigid, so soup. Cas doesn't always work at dinner — actually he really never works at dinner — but he brings work home a lot. He says he's got to do it either way, and he can stay at work or have eye candy while he does his charts. I'm eye candy, evidently.

      He's rubbing at his eyebrow, which means he's about to get a headache. "Cas," I say, and he looks over at me like he's just now hearing me. "What do you think? A weekend away?"

      "A weekend away where and when?" he asks as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

     "In two weeks," I answer evenly. "I know a place."

      "You know a place? That sounds like a ditch the body place."

      "You got me," I deadpan. "Drag you to the middle of nowhere and bury you where nobody would ever think to look."

     "Have you learned nothing from our How to Get Away with Murder binge? You need to burn my body. No body, no crime." He rolls his eyes over-dramatically and then glances back at his computer. "It has been so freaking busy in the ER lately. I am in desperate need of a break. I will literally put my PTO in now. What days?"

     I aim for casual when I answer, "Thirteenth to the sixteenth."

      "Thirteenth to theeee," Cas repeats as he clicks at his computer. "Wait a minute. Wait a gosh darn minute. That is Valentine's Day weekend."

      "Oh, is that Valentine's Day? I had no idea," I say.

      Cas pins me down with a questioning stare. "What are you planning?"

      I shrug noncommittally. "I'm not planning anything."

      I've started walking away and flinch at the screech of the bar stool grating against the floor as Cas hops to his feet. He runs over, tackling me from behind so that I nearly go down. "What is this?" I call out, leveraging myself with a hand on the back of the couch.

      Cas has his arms flung over my shoulders and the weight of him is on my back. "Tell me what you're planning," he demands.

      "I'm not planning anything," I respond calmly. "You're going to bring us down if you don't stop squirming."

     He reaches across my chest and pinches my nipple through my shirt. He's careful because of the piercing but it still hurts. "Ow, Cas, what are you doing?"

      "Tell me," he whines. "This is so unfair. I literally never see your surprises coming."

      "That's the point of a surprise, isn't it?" I ask.

      "Tell me what the surprise is," he repeats.

      "There isn't a surprise. I just want to go away with you."

      "To an undisclosed location. On Valentine's Day. Right."

      "Well, yeah it sounds suspect when you say it like that — can you please stop pinching my nipple now?"

      Cas laughs into my ear but doesn't stop. "Why? Is it turning you on?"

      "You got me," I muse taking a few steps forward before I turn and dump Cas onto the couch. I slump beside him and he wastes no time sliding his head into my lap, looking up at me.

     "You're always doing things," he says pitifully. "I need to get a PI."

     I grin. "So unnecessary."

     "So where are we going then?"

      "New Hampshire."

     "What's in New Hampshire?"

     "You'll see."

     "I hate this game."

     "S'not a game."

     "One day," he says wistfully.

      "One day what exactly?"

     "I'm going to surprise attack you back. A surprise so huge and you're not even gonna see it coming."

     "I'll believe it when I see it," I say quietly, running my hand through his hair. Cas's eyes start to close like I'm lulling him to sleep with my ministrations.

    "You will," he mumbles. "And when you see it you'll be so shocked. You'll say how in the world did he get this one past me..."

      "You're falling asleep," I say with a soft laugh.

      "Quick nap," Cas responds and he's out, just like that.

      Cas is asleep in the passenger seat. I'm not entirely sure he ever actually woke up, more like sleep-crawled his way downstairs and out to the car at seven a.m. I wanted to get an early start since we have about a five hour drive ahead of us, not factoring in traffic.

     He wakes when we're just getting into Massachusetts, coming to with a jolt so that he springs forward in his seat, looking around bewildered like I've kidnapped him. "Mmmm," he says stretching. He twists next and his back cracks. "Where are we?"

     "I think we're about to pass through Auburn. In Massachusetts."

     He frowns. "How much longer do we have?"

     I tap my phone screen that's clipped to a stand in my vent. Cas looks. "Two more hours?" he wails. "How are there still two more hours? I thought I slept for like six."

      I manage to fight back a grin long enough to say coolly, "So you're obviously not a road tripper."

     He turns to glare at me. "So you're obviously not a road tripper," he mocks and I can't fight back my laughter. He frowns, shoulders sagging low. "Long car rides kill me."

      It's not shocking news. Asking Cas to sit still in a confined space for more than hour? A feat in itself. He's a toddler like that, always has been I think.

     "Five hours is not a long car ride. If we drove to Florida, it'd be sixteen hours. That's a long car ride."

     "Why in the world would we ever drive to Florida when we could fly? Tell me you're not thinking of driving to Florida next because I will seriously book a flight and meet you there."

     I shake my head. We apparently woke up on the over dramatic side of the bed today. "There's something nice about the open road. You can sight see, stop at landmarks. Get one of those Weird Roadside Attractions pamphlet-things from the gas station."

     "I'm sorry, one of those what? Why does it feel like you've thought about this extensively."

     "I just like road tripping. Maybe I'll buy an RV."

     "And put it where, exactly? You'd also have to take time off to actually use it, you realize? Actually hand over the Weston reigns to Dolores and Charles."

      I grimace. "I think I'm more apt to put Tasha in charge if I'm being honest."

     Cas makes a face. It's not a jealous face, more like surprised. "You trust her like that? How long has she even been working with you?"

     "It'll be three years in May. When I hired her she'd just had a daughter and was trying to finish college. She needed help so..." I don't know what I'm trying to say exactly.

     "So naturally you helped her," Cas says but it's not an accusation. He says it like it's just a fact. Like that's who I am. Maybe it is. "Well, I really like her. She's spunky."

     I shake my head. "More like intrusive, opinionated, and bossy."

     Cas makes eyes at me. "Wow, you really do have a type."

    "Ha ha."

    Cas sits back, pulling his legs up onto the seat. "So what's Rumi's deal?"

     "Teen angst, mainly."

     He laughs. "I know it well."

     I laugh too. That he does. "I don't know. I guess she's constantly looking for validation in relationships. Which isn't all that unusual for her age. But she romanticizes everything. So it's like every other week some poor soul's letting her down or failing to live up to the idea of them she's created in her head."

     "Huh. Is she straight?"

     "You seriously have no gaydar."

     He throws his hands up. "Whatever. Jack is freaking effeminate as hell and you two flirt with each other all the time. An honest mistake."

     "Jack flirts with anything that has ears and can understand him. Flirting is the natural tone of his voice. Anyway, I think Rumi's bi. She says she falls on the Kinsey scale. So whatever that means."

     "I, too, fall on the Kinsey scale."

     "Yeah? And where do you fall exactly?"

     He turns and grins at me. "On you, duh."

     I roll my eyes but am fighting back a grin as I do. "Hanging onto that one for a while?"

     "Have literally been racking my brain for weeks on how I could casually work Kinsey scale into conversation."

     "You're ridiculous."

     "Mmm," he agrees. "Okay, how much time has passed? We had to have at least shaved off an hour — are you freaking kidding me, how do we still have two hours to go? The time hasn't changed. Are we even moving? I'm going to lose it, Dres. That's it, I'm losing it. I'm lost." He throws himself dramatically against the dash.

      "Will you relax? Look, go in the side pocket of my bag. The big pocket. There's something in there for you."

      He turns excitedly, pulling my bag into his lap. "Is it food?" he asks as he unzips the pocket.

     "No, why? Are you hungry?"

      "Because it's ninety-nine percent of the time always food with you. Oh shit! You remembered. I was going to pick this up eventually." Cas holds out the book in his hands, admiring the cover. Suddenly, he mutters, "You're out here listening to me and shit." He says it accusatorially, making it feel less like a compliment and more of a problem.

     "Why do you sound mad?"

     "I don't know, Dres, maybe I wanted to buy this for myself."

     "Wait, are you actually mad?"

     "I don't know, Dres. I don't know. Stop asking me questions." I frown at the road in front of me, gripping the wheel tighter then I need to. I can feel the tension in my shoulders, making my elbows lock and knuckles go white. If Cas is mad about the book, this whole weekend's going to be a bust.

     "Fuck, I love you," he says breaching the silence. The words leave him like he's releasing some frustration.

      My elbows unlock. I drop one hand onto my knee. I aim for casual when I say, "So...you're not mad then?"

     He laughs quietly. "No, I'm not mad. Of course I'm not mad. I'm just like — why are you so good to me?"

      "Why can't I just be good to you?"

     Cas turns then, shoving my bag onto onto the floor before he unbuckles his seatbelt and slides over. Before I can register what's happening, he's reaching into my lap and undoing my pants. I glance down at his hand and then back up at the road. "What are you doing?" I blurt. My heart rate picks up, which is just reactionary to Cas at this point.

      "Being good to you back."

      We shave another hour off the drive, stopping once in Boston to grab something to eat at this local chain, Life Alive. It's a vegan spot and Cas grumbles about it — "you would manage to locate some hoity-toity health restaurant" but then rectifies shortly after "I would consider converting for this avocado mousse." We stop again in Lowell to stretch and use a rest room. The book was the best decision I made, a selfish one really, because it's kept Cas mostly quiet.

     Mostly.

      Every so often he has some sudden outburst. Like now, breaking the silence with: "Oh my freaking god!"

      "What?" I practically scream back jolted from my dazing.

     Cas waves a hand at me like I'm the one who's had some sudden outburst and should be more mindful. "Nothing, nothing, the plot is thickening that's all."

      Silence ensues only to be broken again by Cas. "I swear to fucking god. Cops are so dirty. I'm disgusted. I can't keep reading." He tosses the book dramatically onto the seat.

     I glance at it and up at him before turning my gaze back to the road. I'm counting quietly, get to six before he picks it back up. "I'm gonna lose it," he mumbles, but he lifts his legs onto the seat and starts reading again. I need to remember to get another book for the ride home. In retrospect, I don't know why I thought he could handle this drive without one.

     It's nearing three when we finally get into Wolfeboro. The temperature dropped dramatically when we crossed the edge of Massachusetts into New Hampshire and there's snow everywhere, flakes falling as we drive through town. The sky's a stony white and it's already dark out.

     Cas hasn't really noticed, turning pages in his book like his life depends on it. The GPS directs me down a narrow icy road, and I sort of recognize the winding tree-lined path. I'd only been up here twice before, once when I was looking at real estate two winters ago, and then again last summer when I'd closed on the place.

     It's pretty up here, the trees bare and covered in frost and snow. The Wolfeboro Bay's, to my left, is frozen over and untouched.

     "Hey," I say. Cas lowers his book, looking at me over the edge of it. "What are the odds I get you to close your eyes and cooperate without throwing a fit?"

     He slams the book down completely. "I knew it! I freaking knew it. You planned something. You're literally always doing something."

     I answer myself. "Odds are slim to none apparently."

      "Why does everything have to be all huge surprises with you? One day I'm just gonna have a heart attack. A massive cardiac episode and you're going to have to tell all our friends yeah, you know, I surprised him to death."

      While Cas laments, I turn into the driveway. The house is hidden behind trees, and we have to drive up to it. There's a light coat of snow on the ground that is starting to cover tire tracks. I hired someone to maintain the house while I was away and they came earlier to see through some tasks to open it.

      I point up at the windshield after I put the truck in park. "So I bought a lake house. Surprise."

     Cas's face squishes together. He glances back and forth between me and the house several times. "You bought a lake house?"

     "Yes."

     "That's your second home?"

      "Well," I say pausing. "Our second home now."

      Cas looks at me and I don't know what his expression means exactly. "Well let's see the inside then," he says finally, hopping out before I can make sense of what's just happened. Cas darts up the walkway to the door but I'm slow to follow, breathing in the crisp air as I step out of the car. We're nestled in a patch of woods, right on the water, and it smells like pine and earth. The smell alone could convince me to move out here, even though it's remote, at least a twenty minute drive into town where there's limited shopping options.

     "Why are you so slow?" Cas screams at me as I walk up. "It's not exactly warm."

      "Well where's your coat?" I ask as I type the code into the keypad. Cas repeats my question mockingly. I push the front door open and let him in.

     "Oh," he says and it's not likely an exclamation of awe. I have to bite back a laugh. He walks in, stepping through the foyer towards the living room. It's an open floor plan, a preference of mine, with the kitchen to our left and an open-tread staircase directly in the entryway. There are floor to ceiling windows to our right that looks out onto the water.

     "It's very, uhm, modern. Simplistic."

      I follow behind him as he walks through what would be the living room. At the moment, its empty save for the brick fireplace cutting the windows into two sections, and a tv mounted above it. There aren't even seats.

      I try to keep my tone level when I say, "You like it, right? I wanted something minimalistic."

     "More like the bare minimalistic," Cas remarks quietly enough I don't think he wants me to hear it. I watch as he spins around, peering past me towards the kitchen. "Well, the kitchen looks really nice. I don't really understand this living concept, though. Do you stand while you watch tv? Is that supposed to be a health-conscious thing? Your apple watch will certainly love you."

     "Come see the upstairs," I say taking his hand and dragging him towards the stairs.

     "Do you have something against art?" he asks as we go up. "Like I know you couldn't because you're covered in it. So I am confused."

     It's taking everything in me not to laugh. "There's something about the bare walls. Especially because the paints so nice."

     "The walls are painted white, Dres," Cas says sounding like he thinks I'm crazy. I drag him into one of the guest bedrooms.

      "What do you think?" I ask.

     Cas raises an eyebrow. "Is this a joke?"

     "These walls are actually Swiss coffee. Downstairs was promenade. You see the difference, right?"

     Cas raises both his eyebrows. "Literally white walls. These are white, downstairs is white. Promenade? Swiss coffee? They're both the freaking same."

      I frown forcibly because it's the only thing preventing me from grinning. "You don't like it."

      "No," Cas says quickly throwing a hand out like he can physically stop the idea. "I do. It's a really nice place. I'm just trying to understand why its empty? Like where are we sleeping? On the floor? Ohhhh, is this like a camping thing? Did you pack like a tent and sleeping bags? Is that the gag?"

     I shake my head. "No, no that's not the gag."

      Cas frowns, staring at me hard, working to figure it out. I step around him, pressing myself against his back. He makes a squeaky sound that comes out with a laugh. "What are you doing?"

      It's a cute thing that I can still make him nervous. I reach up and cover his eyes. Cas grabs at my wrists but doesn't move my hands away. "What color should we paint the walls of our guest room?" I ask.

      I feel his eyebrows move under my fingers. "What?"

      "Think about our guest room. What color walls does it have?"

     "This again," he grumbles. "Okay, fine, I'll play ball. Green."

      "You want to paint this room green?"

     "Well, I don't know, what do you want?"

      "Cas," I say dropping my chin onto his shoulder so I'm talking into his ear. "I want you to decorate our house."

      "Come again," he says moving my hands away from his eyes so he can turn around to look at me. "You want me to decorate?" I nod. "The whole house?" I nod again. "Which is why it's empty."

      "Which is why it's empty," I repeat back. "Except for the master bedroom because we need somewhere to sleep for the weekend."

      He nods thoughtfully. "I like light grey for the walls. Maybe a subtle blue."

      "Whatever you want."

     Cas drapes his arms over my shoulders, leaning into me. "Whatever I want? I like the sound of that."

     "Within reason," I add because I know that tone of voice.

     "Sex swing and a stripper pole."

      "You can have one," I say and before I've even gotten the full sentence out Cas is beaming at me with all his teeth.

     "Ha! I only wanted the sex swing anyway." I roll my eyes. Cas goes, "So I'm decorating a whole house."

      "It'll be good practice."

       Cas stares at me, but doesn't comment on what I'm insinuating. Then he says, "Oh, wait, does that mean I'm decorating the kitchen, then, if I'm decorating the whole house?"

     I try to interrupt him but he keeps going.

     "Because I'm feeling one of those double sinks with a long gooseneck kind of faucet but it doesn't detach — oh my god the face you are making right now."

     Cas laughs at me and I say quickly, "So one caveat to decorating the whole house."

     He pokes my stomach. "What you don't love the idea of an electric stove and laminate countertops?"

     "That's an actual nightmare."

     "I know, it's what you whisper in your sleep. No, no, not the formica. Anything but the formica!"

     "I don't talk in my sleep."

     "Oh, you really do. You alternate between that and describing all the dirty, vile, delicious things you want to do to me."

      "Uh-huh, right, this is starting to sound more like your dreams."

     "Well in my dreams you're doing it, not describing it, to me." Cas slides his hands down to the neckline of my sweater, tugging on the fabric as he says, "So the bedrooms furnished right?"

     I cup his hands with mine, mostly to keep him from moving them anywhere else. "It is. I need to run into town though and get groceries but you can stay here and take a nap."

      "I wasn't asking about the bedroom so I could nap," Cas mumbles.

      I laugh. "Oh, I'm aware. I need to get groceries otherwise we're going to starve. There's nothing here."

     "Okay, okay." He takes his hands away to hold them up in the air. "I'll go with you."

     I say as I lead the way back downstairs, "We can go in the hot tub later."

      "Hot tub? Now you're speaking my language."