Episode One: Cade Douglas and Madeline Underwood, I

December 23, 2020

The group that day was gathered at the Miller Manor. Dusk had fallen, and they were now seated round the crackling fire, enjoying the warmth and, for the most part, each other’s company. Of course, everything had its limits, and seeing as how the majority of this grouping had been formed well before the introduction of certain other members (*cough*Oliver*cough*), there was bound to be a degree of tension, regardless of how long said members had been married to Della Harding.

Cade Douglas, however, didn’t feel tension. He was quite relaxed, actually, but that might have been largely attributable to copious amounts of eggnog. He quite liked Oliver, and had absolutely no trouble with Della being married to him as long as it meant she wasn’t off having bastard children with anybody.

He breathed a deep, contented breath, reaching over to pluck a pickle off of his girlfriend’s plate of appetizer-snack-things. “Hey,” Maddie protested good-naturedly. “I was going to eat that.” Instead, she popped a cheese slice into her mouth, shooting him a defiant look, and he arched an eyebrow. He didn’t know why she was so shocked; he’d been snagging food off her plate all night. So rather than apologise for it, he gave a tug on a strand of her golden blonde hair.

… Oh yeah, definitely too much eggnog.

She stuck her tongue out at him and rose from the sofa to take the plate into the kitchen where Della and Alicia were screwing with the gingerbready Christmas treats. “I wasn’t done with that,” he whined, gazing longingly at the crackers and grapes that still littered the plate, and she responded with an easy “Too bad” before exiting the room and leaving him alone in the room with the men.

The dark-haired man swirled his eggnog around in his hand, watching the caramel liquid absently as a comfortable silence overcame them.

“Guys,” came Luca’s voice, and Cade took a sip from his drink before turning his attention to the other man. “I’m getting married in three days.”

“Yes, we know,” Hayden assured him, sarcasm lending a mild tint to his voice. He was seated on the sofa adjacent to the one Cade occupied, and, next to the manor-owning bachelor was Oliver Clarke, Married Medical Guy.

Oh yes, Cade knew. She didn’t know, but he’d seen Madeline glancing with that feminine hint of intrigue at Alicia’s bridal booklets and seating arrangement and all that girly crap that he didn’t give a shit about but that women types enjoyed browsing whether they were engaged or not. They’d only been together a year, though. He didn’t think she was seriously considering anything. So he was fine with her having the idea in her head… as long as it stayed there.

Oliver provided the only genuinely excited response to Luca’s declaration. The rest of them were far too tired of hearing his former schoolmate’s panicked exclamations about commitment to be anything but relieved the impending marriage would be soon over.

“That’s really exciting!” Clarke offered, and Hayden shot him a mildly malicious look.

“Yes, you do like the married life, don’t you? It’s treating you well. That must be why you’ve gained that weight, I think, around your middle.” He gave a gesture in the general direction of Oliver’s stomach, and the older man simply rolled his eyes in response. “Dear old Ollie is gaining. Don’t you think so, Chase?” Hayden posed.

Chase looked up from the food stuffs he’d been quite engrossed in. “I think this sausage is fantastic,” he replied, his mouth half-full as he did so.

“That’s enough talk right there,” Cade interjected, “about how much Chase loves the sausage.” He leaned forward in his spot, propping his elbows on his knees and ignoring the ‘oh get over it’ looks he received from both Chase and Luca, and the snicker from Hayden.

At that moment, Della, and Alicia re-entered the room, taking seats next to their husband and fiancé, respectively.

“Where’s Maddie?” he asked, glancing at the room’s entrance for any sign of the blonde.

“She offered to tidy up a bit,” Della explained, and Alicia picked up the ball there, adding, “No surprise she’d rather clean than have your slimy mitts all over her.”

“You’re hysterical,” he commented sarcastically, giving her a dark glare and pushing off the couch to wander into the kitchen.

He found Madeline standing at the counter, rinsing off some dishes, and he approached her quietly, so as not to inform her of his presence until he laid his hand on her hips, ducking his nose to brush up her neck and breathe in her scent. His other hand pushed his glass of eggnog onto the counter and he whispered lightly into her ear, “Do you get an allowance for doing your chores, little girl?”

Her motions hesitated, but she didn’t tense up, having become quite used to his spontaneous touch in the past year. “You are such a creep,” she teased, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck.

“Yeah, but you want me anyway.” His body hummed with the pleasant sensation caused by the [in retrospect, probably extremely alcoholic (or had he just consumed, like, three cartons?)] eggnog, and all he wanted to do right now was strip her down and –

“Shouldn’t you be socializing with your friends?”

“I’ve been socializing all night.” He kissed behind her ear, noted the slight pause in her dishwashing movements as he did so. “And you’ve been an absolute angel for putting up with it.” She playfully shrugged, trying to shed his touch, and he could almost imagine the flattering blush that tinged her cheeks, he knew it so well.

“Yeah, well, you’ll be repaying me for it later.”

He gave a lecherous smirk. “Oh, you’re damn right I will.” His hand slipped down over her hips, curving around her thigh and trailing up the inside, almost to the point of being entirely explicit until she lightly elbowed him in the ribs and he withdrew. “And how would you like me to repay you, my lady?”

“Get off me.”

“As my lady wishes,” the man sighed, and pulled away from his girlfriend, leaning back against the kitchen counter in his trademark sexy way. Everything he did was sexy. He’d perfected that at school, and, like a fine wine, it only got better with age.

“Not that I’m eager to leave, but when are we getting outta here?”

“Soon. Promise.”

Finishing with the dishes, she stepped in front of him. Her arms slipped around his waist, linking at the small of his back, and she dropped her forehead onto his chest. In an automatic gesture, he lifted his hand to gently stroke her blonde curls.

“Anything I can do for you?” he posed softly. He, of course, meant the question in the sense of ‘in return for putting up with my ridiculous friends’. She took it much more generally.

“Love me?”

His hand cupped her jaw, tilting it up toward him, and he dropped a lingering kiss on her plump lips.

“As my lady wishes.”