#hatehisass

Normally when he said these words it was entirely facetious, something that Deirdre would not have been able to do because his hands were over her eyes as he guided her along to something that she certainly would have found delightful - but in this instance, his hands were otherwise occupied, and Sigurd needed to trust that his wife would listen to him, would understand the sheer importance of such a thing, at such a time.

She would certainly be sharp enough to guess what he was doing, given that he had guided her (hands over her eyes) to their shared quarters, which would normally mean one thing, if not for the familiar must of something dark and forest.

They would of course be partaking of the typical activities later, but for this exact moment in time, there was something less typical that Sigurd was too excited not to give to his wife.

"All right - you may look now!"

And when she opened her eyes, she would find, without a single shred of self-consciousness, her husband before her, bedecked in an apron with shirtsleeves rolled up, expanding his arms outward to display what he had put together: a little portable stove, over which sat a large earthen pot filled with steaming, aromatic broth, and surrounded by little bowls filled with this tuber, this vegetable, this starch.

But the real star of the show were the baskets of mushrooms, nearly a dozen arranged behind him, all clearly handforaged (and not carefully).

Sigurd's grin was expectant, and proud, eyes sparkling with delight.

"Well? I found many of these on some of my morning runs, and on some excursions outward in sentry, and I know that mushrooms make up such a large percentage of your diet, so I had hoped that we might discover a new way of enjoying them together. Perhaps even a new mushroom! I can probably recall where I found all of them - " untrue, "but if not, it matters little, I can always return to all of the places I found them," more likely, and added with a bright little laugh.

"Come, sit, I'm happy to serve you." Tugging the chair at the table out for her, he seated her and leaned over her shoulder to press a fond kiss to her lips as he tucked the chair in underneath her.

"Happy birthday, my love."

"I promise!" Deirdre giggles and closes her eyes tight. She covers them with her hands as well, just to reduce the temptation to peek. And, oh, is it tempting! Even though she can hear his voice and she knows he is right there, she still misses getting to look at him. But she trusts him completely and she knows it will not be so long before he allows her to look. She is sure he is just as excitable as he is in this situation.

She is surprised by the smell--warm and earthy and delicious--until she opens her eyes and sees the source. His apron reads Kiss the Cook and she would certainly like to until he begins speaking and explaining where he sourced the array of mushrooms in front of them.

Lavender eyes widen slightly in fear. She does her very best to keep her smile from faltering but it is difficult. He looks so proud and pleased with himself and she is genuinely charmed by the efforts he went through to create something he knows she would enjoy. He did this for her. He set aside his own tastes to create something special and just for her and she does love him for it.

But mushrooms are not something that can be foraged willy nilly and without knowledge.

"Lord Sigurd, you did all this? By yourself?" She lets him seat her. Thank goodness nothing has been added to the broth! Her worries increase as she inspects the mushrooms directly in front of her and immediately notices that they are all poisonous. "I know you must have worked so hard preparing this but we cannot...Oh!" Her face brightens back into a full grin when she spots a few species of mushrooms tucked among the others that are not toxic. "You did manage to find something edible! Those are morels and those are chanterelles!"