"What's this?" McCoy asked when he came to the last container on his desk.
They'd been eating dinner, as usual, in his office while finishing up the annual inventory lists and requisition forms and he'd just discovered one last container of food that Christine had brought with her. Dinner had been simple, red beans, rice and a kind of sausage that she'd picked up at the last outpost.
"What's what?" she asked still tapping away at her PADD with one hand while her other held a cup of coffee.
"This."
She looked up. "Oh, it's dessert. Bread pudding."
McCoy would swear later on his grandmother's Bible that his heart actually stopped.
"It's... what?" he asked quietly.
"Bread pudding," she said. She finally looked up from her PADD. "Oh, don't tell me you don't like bread pudding? You're from Georgia, Len. That's sacrilege, you know."
"No, no," he said. "I like it fine. I, uh... Chapel, will you marry me?"
He probably could have timed that better, but his heart was still stuttering in his chest, and waited until she'd finished taking a sip of her drink. As it was, she coughed and spluttered a bit, her hand shook and some of the liquid splashed on her hand.
"What?" she asked when she was able.
"Ah, I asked you to marry me," he said.
Christine stared at him in a look that managed to combine confusion, amusement and at least one part panic.
"Why?" she asked.
"I kinda had this deal with myself," he said looking down at the container. "If I ever found out that you made bread pudding, no matter the circumstances, I was goingtoaskyoutomarryme."
Christine's jaw dropped, but she's good with weird situations, which is one of the things McCoy really admired about her and said, "Okay. In this little scenario of yours, did you ever stop to consider the answer? Or was the point just to get the question out there?"
"I honestly hadn't gotten much farther than the fact that if you made bread pudding, in addition to all your other good qualities, I would be a complete simpleton not to ask," McCoy said frankly.
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zvi and
Bread Pudding
Date: 2009-09-17 09:32 am (UTC)***
"What's this?" McCoy asked when he came to the last container on his desk.
They'd been eating dinner, as usual, in his office while finishing up the annual inventory lists and requisition forms and he'd just discovered one last container of food that Christine had brought with her. Dinner had been simple, red beans, rice and a kind of sausage that she'd picked up at the last outpost.
"What's what?" she asked still tapping away at her PADD with one hand while her other held a cup of coffee.
"This."
She looked up. "Oh, it's dessert. Bread pudding."
McCoy would swear later on his grandmother's Bible that his heart actually stopped.
"It's... what?" he asked quietly.
"Bread pudding," she said. She finally looked up from her PADD. "Oh, don't tell me you don't like bread pudding? You're from Georgia, Len. That's sacrilege, you know."
"No, no," he said. "I like it fine. I, uh... Chapel, will you marry me?"
He probably could have timed that better, but his heart was still stuttering in his chest, and waited until she'd finished taking a sip of her drink. As it was, she coughed and spluttered a bit, her hand shook and some of the liquid splashed on her hand.
"What?" she asked when she was able.
"Ah, I asked you to marry me," he said.
Christine stared at him in a look that managed to combine confusion, amusement and at least one part panic.
"Why?" she asked.
"I kinda had this deal with myself," he said looking down at the container. "If I ever found out that you made bread pudding, no matter the circumstances, I was goingtoaskyoutomarryme."
Christine's jaw dropped, but she's good with weird situations, which is one of the things McCoy really admired about her and said, "Okay. In this little scenario of yours, did you ever stop to consider the answer? Or was the point just to get the question out there?"
"I honestly hadn't gotten much farther than the fact that if you made bread pudding, in addition to all your other good qualities, I would be a complete simpleton not to ask," McCoy said frankly.