#but he was really happy when i made her fruit salad recipe (ambrosia salad) for thanksgiving

[watermelinoe]

i feel bad bc i think my dad was disappointed in the schaum tortes... they were something his grandma used to make and we used her recipe but she probably knew a lot more things that were just common sense to her so she didn't write them down. but we looked up some stuff online and i think we can get it right next time

[thiswasinevitableid]

I talk about you so much, that when I introduced you to my coworkers, they mentioned how excited they are to finally meet my partner. - Indruck

It’s summer in Kepler, and time for the annual 4th of July picnic for county and state employees. Duck always enjoys the picnic, usually brings along Jane or a friend. But Jane is still gone, most of his friends are away on vacation, Aubrey is off on a getaway with Dani, and Ned is working the Cryptonomica.

Which is how Duck settles on the idea of bringing Indrid with him. The seer has said he wants to spend more time around other people, and is more willing to go outside now that it’s summer. Not to mention Duck loves being around Indrid; sure the guy is a bit weird, but he’s good-natured and interesting to talk to, doesn’t mind when Duck talks about trees for twenty minutes.

When he pulls up to the campground, Indrid is already waiting for him outside the Winnebago, hops into the car and flashes Duck his usual wide smile. He looks less messy than usual, and is wearing a bright blue tank top in place of his standard white one.

“Excited?” He asks as he turns back towards the main road.

“Very. The futures show a high number of sweet drinks present at the picnic. And I’ll get to spend the day with you, one of my favorite pastimes.”

Duck smiles back at him and Indrid squeezes his knee fondly. Odd, the Sylph isn’t normally that demonstrative.

They find a spot near Greenbriar Park, not too far from the picnic area, and Indrid helps Duck carry the two immense dishes of potato salad he made (his moms’ recipe). As they’re setting them on the table, Juno sets a plate of Ambrosia salad on the other side.

“Hey, Duck.”

“Howdy Juno. Oh, uh, this is -”

“Indrid” Juno smiles, holds out a hand that Indrid shakes, “seen you once or twice at the ranger station, nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, and I am very glad you did not die in that crash a few months ago.”

“Uh, thanks? So, Duck says you’re an artist?”

“In a way, I find it helps me understand the world better. Though I suppose if I stay in Kepler much longer I ought to look into more stable employment.”

“Good to keep busy. Then again, he’s always had a soft spot for takin’ care of folks.” Juno glaces Duck’s way with a smirk before excusing herself to go talk to someone else. She can’t be implying what Duck thinks she is. Can she?

“Let’s go grab some grub.”

“Sounds lovely. Incoming.”

“Wha-ACK!” A stream of water catches him on the neck, Indrid stepping behind him for cover. Two shrieks of laughter come from the pair of girls looking up at him and he smiles.

“Now, now, Lark and Robin, ain’t sportin’ to sneak up on a fella when he’s unarmed.”

“Sorry mister Duck.” They say in unison.

“What did I tell y’all about usin’ those squirt guns here? Oh, hey Duck.” Pigeon steps behind her nieces, giving them a scolding look.

“Hey Pigeon, no harm done, felt kinda refreshin’. Dove’s workin’ today?”

“Yep, big sis can’t close the restaurant on a day with such heavy traffic, so I’m watchin’ the girls. Hey, Indrid.” She waves and Indrid returns the gesture, before kneeling down and asking to see one of the squirt guns, which Robin enthusiastically hands him.

“A fascinating device.” He examines it for a moment before spritzing Robin, who shrieks with delight.

“Never had a super soaker growin up?” Pigeon asks.

“No, I did not.”  He squirts Duck without looking, making the others laugh (including Duck).

“You still livin’ at Eastwood?”

“Yes, why?”

“Dunno, thought this one mighta gotten a U-Haul and moved you in from the way he’s been talkin about you.”

“Is that so?” Indrid arches an eyebrow at him and Duck blushes, tries to stammer out an explanation.

“Oooooh, mister Duck has a cruUUuush” Lark singsongs, Robin joining in as Pigeon covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I, uh, I, gotta go get some food.” He waves goodbye and books it towards the tables, Indrid following him after returning the squirt gun.

“I’m glad you’ve only been telling people nice things about me.” He picks up a plate, begins loading it with everything from the dessert table.

“Instead of?”

“That I’m a harbinger of doom, or an unsettling urban legend, or a weirdo who lives in a trailer Oooh! Fruit punch.” He dumps red liquid into a cup, heads over to an empty table.

Duck shakes his head as he finishes filling his plate. Why is everyone assuming they’re dating? Sure, he talks about Indrid, but he talks about lots of people.Not that he hasn’t thought about dating Indrid; he’s just happy being friends and doesn’t want to make things weird by asking him out. He’s so lost in thought that when someone murmurs, “nice catch” and tilts their head in Indrids direction he nods without thinking about it.

By the time he gets to the table, his supervisor is sitting across from Indird, chatting amicably about how excited he is to meet Ducks partner. What strikes Duck this time is that when the man mentions the tree health project Duck is working on, Indrid perks up and begins offering his thoughts on the project, following the thread of it (which causes most people’s eyes to glaze over) perfectly. Which means he’s been listening to Duck when he rambles on about it.

“….I even checked something out of the library to help me understand the ecosystem health better so I could grasp the scope of the undertaking.”

Oh, Jesus, he’s been doing extra reading do he can talk about the things that are important to Duck. The fondness that spikes in his chest at that is far from platonic.

The next hour is a study in realization for Duck. Specifically, the realization that he does talk about Indrid a lot, and that many people in town have already formed positive opinions of the taller man and of his relationship with Duck. Worryingly, their opinions on the relationship are accurate; Indrid does make Duck happy, Duck does look after him, Duck does gaze at him dreamily when he’s talking. It’s the part where they’re not dating that everyone seems to be missing.

They’re walking down in the shade along the river, catching a break from all the noise and movement, and settle for awhile on a rock.

“Thank you for bringing me Duck.”

“Don’t mention it. Nice to have the company.”

“I like getting to meet all the people you’ve been telling me about over the past few months.”

A pause, watching the river flow by.

“How long ago did you start telling them we were dating?”

“I, uh, I didn���t. They all just assumed we were.”

“Oh. I see.” Indrid looks down at his hands, picks at his shirt. He sounds disappointed.

“I mean, we ain’t datin and I can’t lie, so they all must’ve jumped to the same conclusion.”

“Indeed.” Indrid is still looking down, lips pursed.

Duck shifts closer, holds his hand out on the rock between them.

“We ain’t datin’. But I ain’t opposed to that changin’.”

“Really?” Indrid looks up, eyes hopeful behind his glasses.

“I’m real fond of you, Indrid. If you wanna give bein’ boyfriends a go, I’m all for it.”

Cold fingers find his own, and then Indrid leans in and kisses him, and he knows they’ll skip the fireworks tonight because nothing could compare to the ones bursting in his chest at the feel of Indrids lips on his.

“Duck Newton, will you be my boyfriend?” Indrid whispers.

“I like the sound of that somethin’ fierce, Indrid. Besides, seem’s like everyone already knows you’re the fella for me.”