Beast poured two glasses of red wine and set them on the table with a pair of linen napkins and cutlery. The microwave at last beeped and Beast set before Beau a steaming bowl of stew. The steam brought rich, savory notes to Beau’s nose: garlic and thyme, burgundy wine, the earthy aroma of mushrooms, which Beau now noticed several different varieties floating in the thick, luscious sauce.
The two men tucked into the stew and ate in companionable silence. Beau thought about how he had once read that a relationship was not measured so much by what one person had to say to another, but in how comfortable each person could be with quiet, with simply being together.
Beau knew they had a lot to talk about, but he didn’t want to press. He made certain to look over at Beast, to meet his eyes as they ate, demonstrating to the man how little difference his deformity made.
“This is delicious.”