(no subject)
Fic #3: Barbecue Blitzkrieg
Request: From the Shadows, Asher, Galen, and Spencer, prompt: backyard barbecue
Requested by: stylized_wings
Length: 449
Rating: G. No, I'm serious! This theme resulted in a lot of G stories.
Notes: I’m a little out of practice for this story. Can you believe I don’t even remember how Galen and Asher got together? I seriously don’t! Methinks I need to re-read.
Spencer, being Spencer, was the first one to notice the vaguely befuddled look on Asher’s face, but being Spencer, was inclined to ignore it. This wasn’t the first thing, nor would it be the last thing, that Asher became befuddled about, and frankly if Spencer stopped to explain things every time he got that look on his face, he would rarely do anything else.
Galen, being Galen, was the one to try to explain things to Asher, but realized about halfway through his explanation that he actually didn’t know why Jason was prepping five barbecue grills all in a row. His explanation stumbled to a halt and he looked quizzically at Spencer.
Spencer sighed. “Look. Okay. We’re having a barbecue.”
“Right, that much I got,” Galen said.
“And the pack is coming.”
“Yeah, I remember that too.”
“Oooooh.” Asher, for once, got it before Galen. “So you need to cook five million pounds of steak and hamburgers.”
“Right,” Spencer said. “And that takes a lot of time on one grill, so Dad uses multiple grills.”
“Then why is your mom inside prepping vegetable trays and muttering to herself?” Galen asked.
“Because the pack, including my father, often have spouses and children who don’t want to eat nothing but a gigantic pile of barbecued steak that’s practically rare enough to still be mooing,” Spencer said, with a - pardon the pun - wolfish smile. “That’s why the grill on the end has a little flag on it, to remind Dad that it’s the ‘not a werewolf’ grill, where food actually has to be cooked, not merely singed on the outside.”
“Oh, I see,” Galen said, wondering if maybe he should take Asher and go get a pizza or something.
“Your mom is surprisingly purple about this,” Asher said. He saw Galen and Spencer and modified hastily, “Mellow, I mean. She feels mellow. In a Liz-like way.”
“Yeah, she actually has been better about it lately,” Galen added thoughtfully. “I don’t see her piling starch on your plate quite as often. She seems to be letting it go. Why is that, do you think?”
“Oh, she met this new werewolf in town whose wife used to be a vegetarian,” Spencer said. “I think it’s put some things in perspective.”
“. . . used to be?” Galen managed.
“Don’t ask,” Spencer said. “You’re happier not knowing, trust me.”
Asher swung back and forth in the hammock. “Don’t worry, Galen. Jason is really good about remembering that we need to eat, too. Just be prepared to make a blitzkrieg on the platter and we’ll be fine. No pizza required.”
“Pizza?” Spencer asked.
“Don’t ask,” Galen said.
Asher, being Asher, just smiled and said nothing.