[oopfsb / undarkest timeline]

[stilljustandrew]

It's a brisk clear day in early fall at Milliways. Perfect for a picnic by the lake, especially by the Caribbean inlet where the lake has been made to think it's an ocean and the warmer tropical air blends with the cool crispness of autumn in Scotland.

Andrew's been intermittently eyeing the picnic basket Matt's carrying as they make their way toward the shore.

Comments

[semicharmed]

"I promise I didn't cook anything," Matt says whimsically.

He's feeling pretty good! He's got a cute guy and a basket full of sandwiches, and he cannot wait to take off his shoes and feel some sand between his toes.

"Although my cooking has improved in recent years. I can pretty much feed myself now."

[stilljustandrew]

Someday, Andrew thinks, he'd like to cook something for Matt.

"It's kind of great when that happens," he says. "Like, when you can go from subsisting on Hot Pockets and takeout to being able to take ingredients and turn them into food? So awesome."

[semicharmed]

"The next step for me is turning ingredients into protein," Matt answers with a grin.

"My standby recipe might be french toast."

[stilljustandrew]

"French toast has eggs, that totally counts as protein."

He glances ahead, and points. "Does that look like a good picnic-table rock?"

[semicharmed]

Matt peers.

"Oh-- yeah. And that's good, because I didn't bring a blanket or anything."

He adjusts his trajectory slightly to head for the rock.

[stilljustandrew]

The rock really does look kind of perfect: broad, flat, almost level, with only the tiniest irregularities, surrounded by soft sand for sitting on -- and with a lovely view of the turquoise water and the incongruous mountains beyond.

Andrew folds down onto the sand with a contented sigh. "This was a great idea."

[semicharmed]

It's a great view. Matt spends a moment setting the basket on the rock, toeing off his shoes and settling down with an elbow on the rock-- you know, the way they tell you not to put your elbows on the table.

He sucks in a big breath and lets it out on a similarly pleased sigh.

"And you haven't even seen what I brought yet."

[stilljustandrew]

He grins hopefully. "So when do I get to?"

Oh hey, taking off shoes, that's another good idea. Andrew follows suit.

[semicharmed]

"Are you hungry?"

[stilljustandrew]

For a second he considers saying something like that's my secret, I'm always hungry but decides it would only fall flat.

"A little, yeah -- are you?"

[semicharmed]

Andrew is a wise man.

"I could eat," he says pleasantly.

And show off what he brought! Although maybe Andrew will hate it. Although given the volume and variety of what's in this basket, that is statistically unlikely unless he really doesn't like sandwiches.

[stilljustandrew]

Judging by his face as the first sandwiches come out, that's not the case.

"Is that ciabatta?"

[semicharmed]

"Mmhmm," Matt agrees, cheerful.

There are four sandwiches on various artisanal breads. On little plates! As well as little plastic tubs of carrot sticks and edamame, a plate of pastries, two bottles of ale, and some wine.

Oh, uh, and water. Water is good.

"I did construct the sandwiches," he admits, "but with appropriate support and advisement from the Milliways kitchen staff."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew beams. "They look amazing. And very classy."

[semicharmed]

Matt grins.

"I'm gonna have to insist on having half the fig and goat cheese? But everything else is open season. There's caprese, the ciabatta is basically a classic ham and cheese, and then the skinny one is a BLT with garlic aioli. Bon appetit?"

[stilljustandrew]

They all sound (and look) so good that Andrew insists on dividing all of them in half, so neither of them will miss out on anything.

Munching happily, he stretches his feet out in the sand and leans back on one elbow. "Fig and goat cheese is definitely a winner."

[semicharmed]

Matt nods, slightly absent.

He has to admit that with the bustle of getting out here achieved, the glow of Andrew appreciating his sandwiches isn't quite enough to distract him from--


Well, the same internal dance he's been doing with himself for a little while now.

Because Andrew is, seriously, the sweetest. (So far.) And he's not proud of whatever it is he did. But if he's so convinced it's a deal-breaker, what is Matt doing out here with him, on this gorgeous tropical beach, eating sandwiches he assembled in a painstaking mix of diversity and flavor optimization?

It's not the right time to get stuck on these thoughts. But that's the thing about them, Matt's noticed: They tend to crop up right when things are going well.

This is to say that it might be a beat or two before he replies, "I have a soft spot in my heart for bacon. But the fig and goat cheese is pretty great."

[stilljustandrew]

He swallows some ale, and says "Well, bacon and aioli, I was pretty much expecting that to be amazing, but fig and goat cheese is new for me? So, kudos on that combination."

[semicharmed]

Matt smiles, picking up his own bottle.

"Fig and goat cheese is classic where I'm from." Which in this case is San Francisco, not necessarily the future. "Glad you like it."

[stilljustandrew]

More contented munching ensues.

Andrew tips back the bottle for another drink and says, half in a sigh: "This is just really nice."

[semicharmed]

Matt sips.

"Yeah."

He can feel his own smile crooking bittersweetly, and he really, really wishes he could turn off his brain for a little while longer. Maybe it's too soon. Maybe he shouldn't want to know this much.

(If things were just a little bit simpler, he'd like to slip a hand behind Andrew's head and press another to his chest and just kiss him until his back hit the rock.)

[stilljustandrew]

He's looking out at the water, and turns his head to catch the tail end of that crooked smile.

His own smile sobers a little. "Mm?"

[semicharmed]

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "Stuck for words."

[stilljustandrew]

"I know the feeling," he murmurs.

His eyes stay on Matt's face for another moment, then slide away.

[semicharmed]

Matt's smile rallies bravely, or at least pleasantly.

"I think you do pretty well."