zwivety - Tumblr blog

zwivety · 9 months

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fantasizing about winter,,,,,,,,,

Val sneezed. It was a sound Connie had grown very accustomed to over the past month or two, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. Winters were hard on her poor old demon. Demon never seemed like the right word to use--he looked like an ordinary man, and a very sweet one at that--but she wasn't sure what else to call him. He'd been born and raised in hell, his big dark eyes glinted red in the sunlight, and he had huge leathery wings that he could unfurl and hide away at will. All of these things he could hide, but the one thing he couldn't mask was his cold tolerance. His healthy body temperature was well over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It made him perfect to cuddle with on a chilly night, but it also meant cooler weather was absolutely miserable for him. It wasn't unusual for him to have a cold lasting from October to April, and the dead of winter was nearly incapacitating.

It was January now, and as much as Val tried to avoid the freezing outdoors, there were times when it was inevitable. It had been an exceptionally harsh winter so far. The sun seemed to have checked out for the season, and each day was cold, damp, and gloomy. Snow was piled high outside, never having a chance to melt between storms. Wind seemed to be constantly whistling through the trees, and the old house creaked as it braced itself against the strong gusts. Connie typically didn't mind the cold, but this winter was a bit much even for her. For Val, it was brutal. Even inside he remained bundled up, often keeping a blanket wrapped around himself as he moved about the house. He'd been spending this particular night curled up against the arm of the couch, sniffling and dozing off.

Ordinarily, Connie would be accompanying her shivering partner on the couch, enjoying his warmth and trying to provide some of her own, but tonight she was in the kitchen. She'd never been much of a cook; Val and his love for the kitchen had been a godsend (devilsend?) for her and Calvin. Tonight, though, she wanted to try her hand at a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. Their leftovers from earlier that week were nearly finished, and, looking at Val sniffling away under his blanket, she decided he needed a break from cooking. A bowl of hot soup would do them all well.

Although cooking wasn't Connie's strong suit, the soup didn't prove much of a challenge. She'd followed a simple but effective recipe that a friend had given her ages ago. The result was a creamy, fragrant soup simmering away in the largest pot they owned. She covered the pot, feeling pleased with herself. The soup looked restaurant-worthy, and she hadn't even left much of a mess to clean up. As the timer ticked along, she quietly washed the cutting board and the few knives she'd used, then wiped off the counter. She peered around the doorway as she dried the cutting board. Val was fast asleep now, slumped against the arm of the couch and snoring softly. Connie glanced at the timer. It would be another ten minutes before she could shred the chicken and add the noodles.

Ten minutes had come and gone, and the soup was nearly ready. Connie sat down beside Val. She hated to wake him; he looked so sweet and cozy, and he surely could use the rest. Still, he needed to eat. Gently, she nudged his shoulder.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said softly, brushing her fingers against his cheek. Val yawned and sleepily took her hand.

"What time is it?"

"Almost seven."

"Shoot," he mumbled. He stretched his arms above his head, and his joints crackled softly as he shifted. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." He pushed himself upright, yawning. He should have looked well-rested, but his hair was a mess, his clothes were disheveled, and the texture of the couch upholstery was imprinted on his cheek.

"Oh, your hair looks nice," giggled Connie.

"Yeah?" Val ran his hands through his hair, attempting to smooth it out. "How about now?"

"Not as cute," she teased, tousling his hair. He smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek. As he did, the timer beeped. "Think you can stay awake long enough to have some dinner?"

"Is that what that is? It smells good."

"Looks good, too. Hopefully it tastes good," said Connie.

Calvin and Mona were both staying at their friends' houses that night, leaving the two of them alone. Rather than sit at the table as they would with the whole family, they opted to eat on the couch, a blanket draped over their shoulders. The soup had come out even better than Connie hoped. She'd thrown in a few extra cans of vegetables--peas, carrots, corn, green beans--along with diced potatoes, tender shredded chicken, and far more egg noodles than the recipe called for. The broth was creamy and flavorful but not too rich, and the heat radiating from the bowls was comforting.

"You always say you can't cook, but this is great," said Val.

"Isn't it? It's Elaine's recipe."

"You definitely did it justice." Val was going through his soup much more quickly than Connie. While his cold tolerance was miserable, heat didn't bother him in the slightest. Before long, his bowl was empty and his belly was full.

"Have a little more," Connie suggested. She blew gently on her spoon. Her bowl was still half full.

"Y'know, I might," said Val. He didn't often go back for seconds, but the hot soup was a great comfort against the cold, and he wanted to show his appreciation for Connie's cooking. As he stood up, the feeling of fullness in his stomach became more apparent. He almost reconsidered the second bowl, but it was too enticing to pass up. He ladled himself another serving and returned to Connie's side. Rather than hunch over the coffee table as he did with the first bowl, he sat back against the couch this time to give his belly some space, holding the bowl in his lap.

As Val worked on his second bowl, he began to regret the decision to get seconds. He was already full, and as he ate his stomach grew tighter and more uncomfortable. He sighed and rested a hand on his rounded belly. Connie, finishing up her soup, turned to look at him. Her eyes dropped down to his bloated middle.

"Sheesh, Val, when I said 'have some more,' it was a suggestion, not an order," she chuckled. "Don't go making yourself sick over there."

"Hey, your cooking's just that good," he said, smiling at her. "I might have to quit, though. I don't think I can fit the rest of this."

"I'll say. That tummy looks like it can't take another bite." She gave his belly a firm pat. It sloshed quietly in response. Normally Val's belly was flat and a little bit soft, but after almost two big bowls of soup, it was round and solid, with little give left to it.

"Do you want the rest of this?" He offered her his bowl, which was nearly empty.

"Nah, we'll just throw it back in the pot," she said. "Nobody needs to know."

The two of them cleaned up after themselves and put the rest of the soup away. Some of it went in the freezer; the rest would easily last another week. With a soft grunt, Val dropped himself back onto the couch.

"Oof, I'm stuffed," he sighed, resting his hands on his stomach. He was wearing a heavy oversized flannel over a heavy oversized sweater, but the bump of his bulging tummy was visible even under his form-concealing outfit. Connie sat down beside him and pulled the blanket back around them both. She leaned against Val and slipped her arms around him, idly rubbing his belly. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they sat for a while, quiet apart from the gentle gurgles of his overstuffed stomach.

Connie was beginning to doze off, lulled into drowsiness by Val's warmth, when she suddenly felt him perk up. She looked up, covering a yawn. He looked like he was thinking.

"Hey, how's some hot chocolate sound?" he asked. Connie laughed.

"How can you possibly have any room left for hot chocolate? Your tummy feels like it's about to pop!"

"Aw, come on, there's always room for a little dessert," he grinned.

"Well, you do make some damn good hot chocolate," said Connie. "Alright, I'm on board." Val rose from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Connie remained on the couch. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head. Val had an irresistible sweet tooth, and nothing was going to keep him from indulging it. She wasn't about to complain, though. Nothing compared with Val's hot chocolate. Before she met him, she was never much of a hot chocolate person. Her recipe involved Swiss Miss and a microwave, and not much else. Then Val came along, and her tastes were spoiled for life. He made it on the stove, with milk and cream and real chopped chocolate and all sorts of other little additives that made for a wonderfully rich, sweet dessert. She wouldn't even classify it as a beverage; it was right up there alongside chocolate cake in her mind.

Finally Val returned from the kitchen, a mug in each hand. He delivered one to Connie, then sat down with his own. His belly sloshed softly as he did. She glanced skeptically down at his stomach.

"Are you sure you have room?"

"Sure I'm sure," he said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. His stomach let out a gurgle of protest, but he didn't seem troubled by it. Connie raised an eyebrow at him, then turned her attention to her own mug. She didn't believe for a second that he wasn't still stuffed, but she supposed he'd at least have the sense to stop before he made himself sick. Or exploded. He had, after all, had the sense to give up on the soup.

As Val slowly enjoyed his hot chocolate, he wondered if making it had been a good idea at all. Connie was right--he didn't have room, and his stomach was reaching its limit. It couldn't stretch any further at this point, and was now just growing tighter and tighter with each swallow. In addition to that, the thick, heavy drink was a bit too rich for his already overstuffed belly. Sighing, he lowered his mug, resting it atop his leg, and placed a tentative hand on his stomach.

"Holy crap, Val," said Connie, looking down at his distended belly. "I don't want to say I told you so, but I think I can say I told you so."

"Yeah, you did," he groaned, setting his mug on the table. He looked down and was surprised to see his stomach bulging out very noticeably. "I may have overdone it a little."

"I'll say." She carefully placed her hand on his belly. It was tight as a drum.

"Worth it, though," he said, flashing a tired grin at her.

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