Page 23 of Fibre and Ink

That was a long-term project though. Right now we needed something fun to do.

I took the dishes into the kitchen and left them beside the sink, coming straight back out. “How do you feel about board games?”

Aster had been reaching for his laptop, but he looked up, curious. “Board games? Like Monopoly or something?”

“More like, Settlers of Catan or Ticket to Ride.” I named two of the better known ‘indie’ games that I’d picked up in the last few years. “I have some pretty good ones. Usually I have to strongarm Harlow into playing them with me, but hey, maybe you’ll enjoy them?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m willing to try.”

I went to the cupboard in the hall, grabbed Ticket to Ride and a game I’d Kickstarted called Good Dog, Bad Zombie. Both were quick to pick up and fun to play with two people.

Aster had moved his laptop off the table and was looking at me expectantly.

“Okay, so we can either start with the game where you build train lines across America, or the one where we’re dogs in the zombie apocalypse.”

Aster’s eyes widened, looking between both boxes. “You’re asking me, an autistic animal lover, to choose between trains and dogs?”

I laughed. “We can play both. It’s just which one we play first.”

Aster groaned softly. “Okay, um. Which is easier to pick up?”

I considered. “Probably the trains.” I put Good Dog, Bad Zombie aside and set up Ticket To Ride.

Soon we were both placing train tracks and squabbling over who got which station.

While we played, I couldn’t help the warm and fuzzy feeling I got every time I glanced over at Aster. To try and divert myself, I broke out some local brews from the Meadery next door and we both started imbibing.

After our second round of Ticket to Ride — Aster had lost the first round so insisted on a second to regain his pride — we put it away and took out the dog game.

I explained the rules, resolving to play on the easiest level, but I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be for Aster to choose which dog to play. The options were all adorable. There was a dalmatian, a corgi, a golden retriever, a boxer, they were all good dogs.

“Do I go small and cute like me? Or do I live out my big dog dreams and pretend I’m a boxer?” Aster’s eyes were misty. Emotions over the dogs, or the beer?

“We can play again tomorrow.” I waved my hand. “Don’t stress, we can play until you’ve tried all the dogs, and the cat and the pig and the goat from the expansion.”

“There’s a GOAT?” Aster half-stood up. “I want the goat!”

“No, dogs first.” I laughed. There was no reason to insist on dogs first, but I was amusing myself by denying Aster this. “Choose a dog, it’s okay. You are kinda corgi-like.”

Aster flopped back into his chair, apparently arguing with me on the dogs first rule hadn’t occurred to him. “Okay. I’m going to take that comment as a compliment, even though I’m not sure it is. This ale is really good.” He downed the last of a can and reached for another.

“Have you been to the Meadery? We can go there and pick up some more,” I said, choosing the border collie, my favorite dog.

“Fine.” Aster took the Great Dane, Captain Woofster. “Now, how does this work?”

By the time we went to bed I was mostly sober, just riding a calm, relaxed buzz of warmth. Aster was sleepy and adorable.

“You want to sleep in with me again, Aster?” I asked, feeling like it wasn’t any kind of risk at all.

Aster nodded. “Mmhm. Is that okay?”

“I offered.”

We made our way upstairs. Aster changed in the bathroom.

I used my en suite to brush my teeth, feeling at peace. My alpacas were good, we had a plan to stop any construction nearby and Aster was going to sleep beside me again.

I was naked, pulling on my slightly-more-decent-than-boxers pajama pants when Aster walked in.