He hums a note of acknowledge as he does up his jeans and belt, pulling his t-shirt on and leaving it rumpled and uneven as he hunts down his boots.

"I could teach you, you know. How to fry good chicken. Pass you down my favorite recipe," he drawls as he ambles over fully booted to slide his hands around Ben's waist and pull him in. "I know you do, darlin'. And as long as my cellphone doesn't light up for somethin', I'm all yours till mornin'." He bends and kisses Ben's neck.

"Now. How 'bout that chicken."