After his shower, Lucas changes into a pair of old shorts and a tank top, figuring that the lack of both sleeves and pant legs would allow him to better monitor his injuries. Plus, it’s hot outside, and even though they have air conditioning, the apartment is pretty warm. Sarah must be baking something.

He shuffles down to the living room and sees that Sarah has set him up on the couch with the strategically-placed remote, an ice cold bottle of a local kombucha, and what looks like a vastly-improved version of his corner deli sandwich. He’s just settled down onto the good spot when she comes around the corner, holding a jar of his best half-sour pickles and looking vaguely apologetic.

“Sorry,” Sarah says by way of beginning, “I wanted to have it ready, but I need you to open this.”

Lucas smiles at her, takes the jar, and opens it easily. When she gives him a wry look, he says, “You must’ve loosened it, babe.”

Sarah makes a face but doesn’t say anything as she drops a few pickles on his plate. He tries to avoid it, but it’s difficult not to notice the view down the top of her dress that her leaning over his plate is providing him. He doesn’t see anything untoward, mostly because the bodice is actually pretty slim-fitting compared to a lot of her clothes, but he’s now pretty aware that she can’t be wearing a bra with this dress.

She returns the jar to the kitchen and then comes back, sitting a polite distance away from him on the couch. “Does it hurt right now?” she asks, her brow wrinkled in concern.

“Not really, Sarah, just kind of a dull ache.” Lucas juts his thumb in the direction of his bedroom. “I got some pain stuff. Nothing real fancy. Just extra-strength normal stuff.” He clicks the TV on, then has a flash of memory from when he’d first arrived home. “Hey, what were you celebrating?”

“Huh?”

“When I got home,” he clarifies. “And you were having your one-woman dance party. You were saying you were celebrating something, then I horned in with my broken ankle and interrupted.”

“Oh.” Sarah smiles and a light appears in her face. “I submitted a draft of this one tricky section of my paper to my supervising professor. Nothing really to celebrate, I guess, I’ve just been kind of struggling with it for the last little while. I still have other sections and I’ll definitely have more to do on this one later too once I get feedback, but it feels really good to have at least one kick at part of the can out the door.”

“That’s great, Sarah!” Lucas gestures to her phone. “Is that what Bob was all about?”

Sarah laughs. “Yes. I’ve decided to take every small victory I can.”

Lucas claps his hands together. “That’s the spirit, Sarah! So how are we celebrating?”

“Oh, it’s not - it’s not a real milestone,” Sarah dismisses. “It’s not a real thing to celebrate. I was just letting off some steam.”

He shrugs and picks up his sandwich. “Who cares if it isn’t real? Let’s let off some steam. I’m a bit tougher to drag around right now, but let’s do something fun. At least turn Bob back on!”

“I’ve got dough resting,” Sarah informs him. “When it’s ready for the oven, sure. I was also going to go to the store to get stuff for dinner…”

“We can order in.” Lucas points to his leg. “I’m hurt, remember? Sick person gets to pick.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “That’s not a real thing, but okay, twist my arm. Don’t pick something vile, though.” She tucks her legs up beside her delicately, sticking her toes between the cushions, and leans in Lucas’s direction. There’s still about two feet between them, which is a normal distance to leave between friends, but right now Lucas’s feeling a little cuddlier than usual.

So he lifts an arm up and gestures for her to move closer. “Come here, Sarah. I don’t stink anymore.”

There’s no hesitation on her part, which Lucas knows has to be because they’ve built up a pretty good level of base physical affection at this point, so it’s not weird anymore. He’s a hugger, always has been, and she constantly seems like she needs one. Simple as that.

Plus, Hamil isn’t here to give him the side-eye like he had all of summer weekend. Lucas doesn’t have to justify himself to anyone except obviously Sarah, and she seems perfectly content to sit here against his chest with his arm around her waist and watch reruns of Top Gear. The only problem now is he has to finish eating this sandwich one-handed.

He manages to do so without dropping anything, then offers one of the pickles to Sarah. She turns and smiles her thanks at him, then takes it from him bites in.

“Ooh this is good, Lucas.”

“Thanks Sarah.” He follows suit and has to agree; one of his better batches, for sure. “Half-sour, just like you,” he jokes, which earns him a swat to his leg. He slides his plate on the coffee table and props his foot up beside it. “Thanks for the late lunch, too. Definitely better than the deli.”

“Of course it was.” Sarah leans even further into him. She stretches both feet out at a slight angle to his, settling them on the coffee table as well. Then, to Lucas’s amusement, she reaches behind herself, grabs his arm, and pulls it around her.

He can’t help but laugh softly. “Yes, just get comfy, Half-Sour.”

“Yes I will, thanks Lucas.” The teasing lilt is evident in her voice as Sarah points at the TV. “What is this show, anyway? What’s with the cars?”

“I don’t know, it was the first recommendation. Just trying to find something that isn’t reality-based.” Lucas plays his fingers against her ribcage, tickling lightly.

Sarah scoffs. “You are just as into Real Housewives as I am now, don’t even lie.”

“I will never admit that.” Lucas flips the TV to Planet Earth. “This better?” he asks. “Warning you, this might put me to sleep for an hour.”

“Oh Lucas, if you’re tired, I can leave you alone,” Sarah says immediately, moving to sit up. “I’ll mess up your sleep.”

He tightens his grip around her and keeps her down against him. “Don’t go nowhere, Sarah,” he says, even as he closes his eyes. “You stand guard while ol’ Lucas naps.”

“I’ll do my best,” she reports, and he remembers nothing after.