“I gotta say, O,” Bellamy set his napkin back on his lap as they were presented with their third course of a seven-course tasting menu at Nightblood in Las Vegas. “I had no idea you were this knowledgeable about food.”
“You haven’t seen me in a few years,” Octavia smirked at her brother before digging into her pasta course. “I’ve been very busy. Doing a lot of learning and a fuckton of research.”
“When you said you had a reservation here I was kind of skeptical, but shit, this is absolutely incredible food,” Bellamy was eating most of his meals on a military base, and the trip to Nightblood felt extra special.
“Food is pretty awesome, dude,” Octavia replied. “I’ve been getting really good.”
“Are you going to be making lamb stuffed angliotti from scratch at the bar now?” Bellamy grinned before taking a bite.
“Not exactly,” Octavia chuckled before savoring a forkful of pasta.
It was so nice to see him again. Even though he couldn’t say much about his day to day, Octavia always slept better when he was somewhere in America that she could visit and access, and not in a classified location somewhere on the map where nothing was safe.
“How’s it going, though?” He asked after they both ate in silence for a few moments. The food was too good to talk. “For real?”
“The bar?” she asked as she sipped from her wine glass.
“Yeah,” he said with an encouraging smile. “If you had the time and cash to make the trip, I’m guessing things are better than the last time we talked.”
The first year and a half after taking over the bar was hell.
Octavia didn’t have as much experience as she thought, the place needed way more work than advertised and she had a hard time finding just the right staff.
“Yes, they are,” Octavia exhaled with relief. “Finally.”
“That’s great, O,” he gave her a genuine grin.
“I was going to wait until the end of the meal, but since you brought it up,” Octavia dug through her bag and pulled out a rolled up black t shirt.
“Did you bring me a present?” Bellamy perked up. He denied it, but he looked exhausted. She was delighted to catch a glimpse of the smile she grew up with.
“Kind of,” she handed it to him. “I didn’t realize you had bulked up so much, so the medium I brought you is gonna make those arms of yours look like you’re strangling a python. I can send you a new one if it doesn’t fit.”
Bellamy set his fork down and carefully unrolled the shirt to reveal the logo on the front.
Blake’s Bar. Congress Street, Portland, Maine.
“What is this?” he looked up at her with concern mixed with excitement.
“I renamed the business,” Octavia couldn’t contain her grin anymore. “It’s all officially mine and the paperwork is all done, and since you technically invested well over half to get me started, I thought it was only fair that I name it after us.”
“Octavia,” he warmed up even more. “I love that.”
“I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you,” Octavia muttered and went back to her plate. It was hard to look directly at him and feel all of the emotions pouring in at once. She was just as tired as he looked.
“You did,” he said with weight. She glanced up and met his eye. “This is amazing,” he held the shirt across his chest and beamed with pride.
“Well,” she shrugged with one shoulder. “Thank you, big brother.”
“I’m so proud of you, O,” he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips down. “And for the record,” he goofily flexed and draped the t shirt over his shoulder. “The ladies love a man in a tight tee.”
“Alright, Casanova, settle down,” Octavia waved a hand at him. They both laughed.
“It’s good to see you doing so well,” he said sincerely.
“Yeah, well,” she smiled shyly. “I guess I just needed a little help.”