Nathan pops his eyebrows, the expression suggestive, but ultimately lets her go. When she returns, he's curled up around himself to guard against the wind. He's quick to pull her back to him, once she's sitting again.
She shifts to snuggle in closer, before holding up the bag of marshmallows. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But I did bring back highly processed sugar pillows."
"Least there's that," he allows. A pause follows, largely for effect (though he hopes it doesn't read as such, for the sake of the joke), and then he asks, "You get the little sticks, too?"
Those, he actually remembered. He hopes she hasn't noticed them.
"I couldn't find them," she admits with a frown, as she pulls the bag in to start tearing it open. "But I figured non-toasted marshmallows were better than no marshmallows at all."
"Huh," he starts, leaning away from her just enough to reach for the bag of sticks. As he holds them up, he continues, "Lucky for us, then, that I've got these."
Please don't kill him for not mentioning that to begin with. He's trying to be smooth, here.
She's not going to kill him. She looks amused more than anything else, glancing from him to the sticks. Go figure he brought the sticks, but didn't bring the marshmallows to roast them on.
The sexiest and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, Elena.
Taking the bag from her, he juggles it and the sticks so he can pop a marshmallow of his own into his mouth. That done and equally sexily, he asks, "So, how toasty are we getting here?"
"Okay, I think I can do that," he tells her, fitting a marshmallow onto one of the sticks as he swallows. He pushes it into the fire, then, holding it there for several seconds, before ultimately pulling it out. Without taking it off the spit, he holds it out for inspection. "Think that'll work?"
"I thought you said you wanted to keep your taste buds," he shoots back. Never mind the fact that he dutifully returns the marshmallow to the fire. He's mostly just giving her crap because he can.
"Okay, well. Don't say I didn't warn you," he breathes, like anything they're actually doing here is really that edgy. After another handful of heartbeats, he asks, "What do you think? Think it's ready now, Little Miss Fear Factor?"
Finally, he pulls the stick out of the fire, pointing it in her direction so that she can work the marshmallow off the top of it. "Pretty sure there was a wavier that said I take no responsibility if you burn you face off. You know. Just in case."
"Sure. You're not liable for the destruction of my tongue." She tests the edges gently with her fingers, just to get a gauge, before taking hold of the stick and pulling the hot marshmallow off and feeling it melt in her mouth. She makes a happy noise in return but ... is not capable of much else while her mouth is glue.
"Nope," Nathan chirps happily, taking the stick back, once she's worked her marshmallow off of it. He puts another one on it before returning it to the fire. "Or yep. Or -- yeah, you know what I mean."
She smirks at him as she manages to work her way through the marshmallow, before shifting to lean against his shoulder. "You did well. That was a nicely toasted marshmallow."
"It's one of my many talents," he tells her, pulling the stick back after a beat, to look at it. It goes back in, after a brief inspection, and while he waits on it and a little more seriously, he asks, "So, what're we doing tomorrow?"
She takes a breath as she considers. There are Options. Some of them probably more appealing than others, but she's willing to let him give his two cents as this is his honeymoon too.
"Well, we could wander into town. See if the locals know about anything interesting that doesn't appear in the tourist brocheures."
"That's what I'm here for," he agrees, proudly. A pause follows, largely for effect, and then he adds, "Well, that and my roguish good looks." That's totally why Elena married him.
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"You sure? I mean, I feel kinda blue."
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Those, he actually remembered. He hopes she hasn't noticed them.
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But feel free to come in and save the day, Nate.
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Please don't kill him for not mentioning that to begin with. He's trying to be smooth, here.
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"Whadaya know. My hero."
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"Knock yourself out." Appropriately garbled by the marshmallow in her mouth, of course. Very sexy.
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Taking the bag from her, he juggles it and the sticks so he can pop a marshmallow of his own into his mouth. That done and equally sexily, he asks, "So, how toasty are we getting here?"
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"As toasty as you can get without it scalding off my tastebuds."
Which mostly might involve her controlling herself and waiting until it's cooled down a little more, but that is what she's looking for.
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There are Options.
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She takes a breath as she considers. There are Options. Some of them probably more appealing than others, but she's willing to let him give his two cents as this is his honeymoon too.
"Well, we could wander into town. See if the locals know about anything interesting that doesn't appear in the tourist brocheures."
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