HAPPY PLACE ╱ CONRAD FISHER

FIVE

HAPPY PLACE
~
Cousins, Massachusetts

On second thought, Susannah did need help with dinner.
Charlie was then donned in his "Caution: Hot Stuff Coming Through" apron that Conrad had gotten him as a gag gift that one Christmas, slowly pulling the dish of potato au gratin out of the oven. Conrad silently sat at the island, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he watched Charlie glide across the kitchen, weaving in between Laurel and Susannah as he set the hot dish on the stove. Conrad knew he couldn't cook to save his life (just enough to keep himself alive), so he knew he'd be set with having Charlie as his future roommate by the time they both graduated college, squeezing whatever they could in a shoebox-sized apartment in New York or California.

Conrad knew that Charlie would be a part of his life, like some invisible string tying the two of them together.
"Make yourself useful and set the table, why don't ya. I'll make sure you face the knives the right way." Charlie quipped as he flung a dishrag at Conrad's face, effectively snapping him out of his daze. Conrad balled the rag up and tossed it back at Charlie as he got up off of the stool to reach the cutlery drawer.

"If you're so uptight about etiquette, why don't you do it then?" Conrad asked, grinning despite the joke of a dig.

"I need to make sure you'll be agreeable when you eventually have your own house and your partner has you set the table. And then you'll be grateful that your dear old friend Charlie here taught you."

Conrad let out a sardonic scoff, shaking his head as he rooted around for forks, spoons, and knives. "Let me guess: we're using the good plates, too?"

Charlie simply nodded in response. The two of them went into the dining room, dishes and silverware in their hands and set the table in a comfortable silence. Charlie set the plates as Conrad followed, setting the cutlery in place before Charlie came around again and double-checked, tweaking things here and there along the way.

"Why are there so many damn forks, anyway?" Conrad muttered as Charlie came up behind him and he, once again, switched the salad and entrée forks.

"Ask the Greek," Charlie murmured, not bothering to move even after he corrected Conrad's mistake.

"Ah, the Greek," Conrad murmured back, smiling impishly. "Always at the scene of the crime." The two stood there for a moment, shoulders brushing. "Remember that mythology phase in middle school you went through?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and groaned at the memory. "And you got me the Percy Jackson series for my birthday to further enable it so whose fault was it really?"

"Hey, I only gave it to you, you decided to run with it."

"The first thing to heal is admitting you have a problem," Charlie shot back sarcastically.

Conrad raised his eyebrows in challenge. "So you agree? You think you have a problem?"

"Just be glad your mom's here or else this fork would be meeting your eye right about now."

Conrad put a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. Charlie only rolled his eyes as he let Conrad finish setting the table. As soon as everything was ready, they all sat down to eat and enjoy the meal. As always, Conrad and Charlie sat next to each other, even if Conrad sat at the head of the table.