#continuing rick's physical affection towards beth trend as coming in all tender unexpectedly and in PUBLIC

[hournites]

I saw Hournite and immediately rushed to send in an ask! 😁 "Is this a date?" -Rhuben

Homemakers

Beth wiped silky cobweb film on her patchwork jeans. Mindful to not let her upbringing with wealthy parents and a spotless home cloud her judgment, she stepped away from the giant 80s curtains, continuing to meander through the fixer-upper. The wooden floorboards were swollen with old water damage and spreading apart by the front foyer, creaking beneath her tennis shoes. A stubborn stale smell lingered in the air, even after Rick opened windows to stop her sneezing.  

“I know it needs work.” Rick glanced around at the stains and barebones furniture, seeing his home through her eyes for the first time. “A lot of work.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” She turned around, full with so much gratitude. To her knowledge, Rick had never let anyone visit his house. When he casually suggested they stop by because he forgot his hourglass in his room, she nearly kicked her feet with giddy. She was happy just to be on his property for the first time, she didn’t expect him to give her a private tour. “I think this place is wonderful.” 

“It’s a shithole,” he corrected, shrugging a shoulder. “There was a pipe leak just last week. You don’t have to lie.” 

It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t about to deny that it needed serious TLC. The rugs could use a good beating and every room she saw was practically begging for a deep clean. The only mirror was dirty and cracked in the bathroom. The couch could at minimum use a cover, but honestly needed to be replaced…Swiffer could do a commercial here for their mops. No dishwasher and a clothesline for his flannel to dry. At the same time, in all its depressing neglected glory, many trinkets belonging to Rick’s parents were left behind by Matt Harris, writing them off as worthless in value. It was humbling and reassuring to see the reminders of the house this once was. It brought Rick’s past alive. 

In fact, she was certain she could transform this into a rustic, positive and hospitable space Rick wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of. With some flowers in window planters and a few fruit trees for Grundy, they could even revive the farm and make it beautiful again. 

“Nonsense.” Sitting down on a soft duvet in the room they ended up in, she slipped her hands behind herself to curb the itch she had to fetch her goggles and measure dimensions. She flashed him a grin instead. “It just needs a trip to Ikea.”

“…Ikea?” he repeated, like it was a foreign word. 

Beth gave him an excited nod. “Mmhm!” 

Rick crossed his arms with a strange look on his face, leaning against the doorpost as she looked around, noticing a mismatching vibe she couldn’t quite place. She sniffed after another tickling sneeze, nose no longer quite so clogged with dust mite. An earthy scent greeted her at last. A hint of sandalwood and trees.

 “It smells so good here.” She settled in, crossing one leg underneath the other and pulled out her phone for Ikea’s web browser while ideas were still fresh. “Best spot so far.” 

“This is my room,” he told her, amused. “And that’s my bed, so you’re smelling me.” 

She gaped at him, ignoring the flush warming her cheeks. “Your room?” 

But there wasn’t a single personal item here on display! No books, snack wrappers, or any pictures…There was the bed and a chair, and, yes, admittedly now she did see his phone charger plugged into the outlet in the corner, but…she at least expected the hourglass to be somewhere noticeable. 

“What?” he teased. “Didn’t think my bed would be made?”

She stood up, sensitive to what was growing between them and unsure how to proceed. “I didn’t say that!” she protested hotly. 

“I know, B. I’m kidding.” 

His tone went soft. Like he loved to ruffle her feathers for the opportunity to gently set her at ease. 

Opening his door to her also opened a part of  himself that Beth always craved after. As guarded as he first was that she knew everything about where he came from, he’d quickly adapted and affirmed her presence much like the baby steps it took for Rick to invite her to sit shotgun in the Mustang. And now it was her unofficial official seat. 

“But why is it always you now,” Yolanda used to whine when Rick picked them up for school. Beth would shrug innocently, like she hadn’t been aware their dynamic was charged from the start. 

She wasn’t sure how long he’d ever had the peace they fostered in the Mustang, knowing this was the very place he’d used the car for to escape. It wasn’t lost on her that their friendship filled a lot of voids. Connection, solidarity, and, well, partnership. Which, at first, worked in the traditional sense on the team, but had now sailed into the uncharted gray area beyond intense friendship. She couldn’t help longing for more. And, she knew, she was the one that usually tested the boundary as the extrovert of the two, but it secretly thrilled her when it was Rick’s doing, which he was more often. 

It had only occurred to her that she’d never let Rick into her bedroom all the times he’d stayed over. Why was that? Her parents never set out any ground rules. And there she was, curling up in his private space–She could only dream what was running through his mind. Was there such a thing as too comfortable? How much was too much?

“And—” she continued to justify, even though Rick never asked. “I likely have your scent memorized because I’m familiar with your car. Or something.”

“Sure.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at her, and kept going. “Or, you just really like my aftershave.” Bending down, he pulled out a storage container from under his bed with a padlock and that had all his stuff. 

Beth glanced out the window at the field of dry grass, hoping he’d open it too when the room only grew warmer as more unwarranted thoughts of Rick shaving leisurely swirled around her head. 

Meanwhile, Rick latched onto the golden chain of the hourglass and slipped it round his neck. She decided she’d rather be embarrassed about finding such random things Rick does attractive than stay sad about the state of his living habits, clearly developed from living with his uncle. He deserved a teenage room, not a hotel safe. Now that thought drove her to wrap her arms around his middle. 

“Thanks for bringing me here.” 

Rick returned her hug hesitantly, genuinely confused. “Is this just an excuse to smell me?” 

“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes, a teeny tiny fib–she’d already buried her face into his shirt. But this was not the time for that, so she sacrificed the sandalwood for propriety and regretfully pulled away. “I know it matters, that’s all. You could’ve told me to wait in the car but you didn’t. So, thank you.” 

He nodded and Beth stepped back, folding her arms.“So, Ikea after training?” 

She watched him nervously rub his jaw and added, “We can set a budget. And you get veto power over anything we get.” She crossed her heart but in their business, didn’t think it prudent to hope to die. 

“Okay, but I veto.” 

Her hand is still over her chest. “You veto.” 

“It’s my budget not yours.” 

“Okay, but can I buy a few things?” 

“Define a few.” 

She held out a hand. “Ten things?” She saw his face twist and quickly adjusted. “Five things! Five things you really want!”

“One thing. Maybe. I’ll pay you back later. And, I’d need your advice anyway so don’t give me that look. And this is my house, not yours.” 

She saluted as he shepherded her out of his room with a hand on the small of her back.  “Message clear and understood.” 

-.-

“Is this a date?” She peered into a display box with a dozen different door knobs in one of the Ikea showrooms. Rick gave her a long sideways glance as he pushed a cart twice the length of Courtney’s staff. 

“What?” She laughed in his pointed silence. “People go on Ikea dates all the time! They browse interior decor, ask probing questions to get to know each other, share Pinterest ideas to share their dream house aesthetics, and find pieces that fit both styles. There’s a restaurant to eat Swedish meatballs for dinner…Not to mention the teamwork required afterwards for assembly.”

“You think building furniture together with wordless instructions is romantic?” 

“It can be with the right person! And a pair of very useful AI goggles. Or a guy with very convenient strength.” She picked up an eight dollar lampshade. “This one?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Does it come in black? And I thought you were very against using JSA stuff for non-JSA things.”

“Exceptions can be made–Are you sure you want black? That’s a depressing color.” 

“I’m sure.” 

She sighed, resigning to the unforgivable fact Rick was a monochromatic minimalist by default. She noted it down to collect in the maketplace. “So, is this a date?”  

The long cart came to a stop. Rick rested his elbow against the metal grate handle. “Believe it or not I do have standards. I’m not having a first date be a trip to Ikea because my house is so ugly it rendered you to tears.” 

She laughed again in disbelief, having so much fun. “I did not cry!” 

“You hugged me!” 

“Because you smelled really good, and I was in your room, which also smelled really good, and I was happy,” she explained, gesturing wildly. 

“You’re going to bump into that dresser,” Rick warned her, avoiding a backwards collision with the KOPPANG by tugging her close just in the nick of time. 

Greeted by sandalwood yet again, she whispered, “So a first date in your books would not include Ikea at all?”

“Not a first date. Not any date.”

“Noted.” She peered at him quickly, then glanced away to watch other families and couples shop, clasping her wrists behind her back as they walked along the long natural way. Rick strayed away to pick up a few things.

It was when she got lost going through the Turkish rug samples hanging from the ceiling that an arm wrapped around her and she got a kiss on her cheek felt all the way down to her toes.