Darien parked outside Bobby's house and got out of the car, taking an extra moment to lock it up, mostly just to let the anticipation build up a bit more.
Sometimes a dinner invitation was just a dinner invitation -- but lately sometimes it was more, even sometimes when they didn't have a burst of case-related adrenaline to burn off.
He walked up to the front door, buzzing a bit off the fluttering in his stomach,
not knowing which way tonight was going to go but knowing it would be fun whether it was just food and a game on tv, or food and a more hands-on kinda game.
He gave a perfunctory knock and walked in, the scents of fresh bread and pot roast welcoming him a second before Bobby's shouted, "Fawkes? That you?"
"It's me," he agreed, making his way to the kitchen. "Jeez, Hobbes, that smells amazing." He inhaled deeply, quicksilvering his hand to pilfer a warm roll out of the basket on the counter.
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