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"G, baby, you in there?" Wes said, gently patting her cheek. Her eyelids started fluttering open. "Yeah, that's right, open up those pretty baby blues and show me you ain't dead."
Tucker groaned.
"Tuck!" Wes said, keeping his hand on Grace's cheek and trying to contort himself to the right to lean over Tucker, who was covered in soot and slime. "Tuck, you all right, man? Feeling any pain in your major organs? All your limbs intact? Twenty digits present and accounted for?"
"Wes, I'm a little too tired right now to play twenty questions," Tucker said, his voice scratchy and raw. He struggled to sit up; Wes provided a helping hand.
"Yahtzee?" Grace mumbled, turning over on her side and curling into a fetal ball, snuggling her cheek into Wes' palm. "I kick ass at Yahtzee."
*
"Hot I'm-glad-you're-not-dead-don't-ever-scare-me-like-that-again tea?" Wes said, offering up a serving tray holding two steaming mugs. He had an apron tied around his waist and an oven mitt on one hand.
"Does it come with a side of guilt?" Grace said, raising an eyebrow as she took her mug.
"Fresh outta the oven," Wes said, grinning brightly. "So hot it'll burn all that ingratitude right out your little tongue."
Grace stuck out said tongue and Tucker laughed, taking his mug and blowing over the top of it to cool it off. "I think what she meant to say was thank you, Wes, how very kind of you." He sniffed. "And I don't know what you're making, but it smells amazing."
"Casserole recipe from Werewolf Bob," Wes said, putting down the tray on the coffee table and sitting down in between them on the couch.
"Werewolf Bob?" Grace exclaimed, nearly spitting her tea out. "The manbeast who ruined my best jacket and my favorite pair of pumps?"
"The secret ingredient is the bay leaves," Wes said.
"A lycanthropic epicure," Tucker mused. "Why does that not surprise me?"
"Because you're one of us, now," Grace said, nudging Wes' shoulder who, in turn, passed it along to Tucker.
"Guess I am," Tucker said, smiling a little wonderingly and taking a sip of his tea.
*
"Girl, if you even think about sticking those cold ass feet up in my legs I'm going to clock you one," Wes warned.
"But you're my Wes-furnace," she said sleepily, burrowing in closer.
"Oh, scoot over," Tucker said, lifting up the blanket and getting under. "Even though I'm pretty sure this bed was only designed to fit one."
"Actually, 1.56," Wes said.
"What?"
Wes shrugged. "IKEA, man, they sell it cheap, they don't promise it'll make sense."
"Just make some room," Tucker said, punching the Captain Kirk pillow and trying to squeeze in.
"We gonna be real cozy tonight," Wes said, and Grace stuck one foot each between their calves, smiling to herself when they yelped.