Work Text:
She smells it in the corridor of Elliot's building--someone is cooking--and when Elliot answers the door, she realizes it's him.
"Hey," he says, smiling, the tips of his ears pink. "C'mon, before it gets cold."
A panicked vision of candlelight replaces her expectation of takeout, but on the island, there is only a casserole dish.
The panic melts away. "Tuna noodle casserole," she whispers. "The first time you and Kathy had me over, she made--"
"Yeah." His finger brushes the handle of the dish. "Is that--"
"It's perfect," she says. "The sentiment, anyway. We'll see about the food."