Messages of Love
He got home early that day, eager to share his news with his lovers. Unfortunately neither of them were back yet. They'd only moved into the new, larger quarters that McGregor had suggested to David a couple of weeks ago and the place still seemed eerily quiet and impersonal. But at least now they had an fully-fitted little kitchen. Much better than the sparse kitchenlet in the old place. Thinking that it would be a nice way to celebrate, he decided to cook them a meal.
Of course he'd forgotten the only time he could actually cook was when he had Nick standing over him, literally holding his hand. An hour in, the sparkling new kitchen was a complete mess and he was covered in a mixture of Athosian flour, spices and some green, liquid stuff he couldn't identify.
Giving up, he sat down on the table and waited for Nick to come back. He knew he should probably start cleaning up at least but he was tired and frustrated. Some of David's paper was lying around on the table and he dug out a pen from the bottom of his pocket and started scribbling.
Nick, I love that you manage to turn me into a relatively decent cook.
David, you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen in real life.
Nick, your smile - that deep genuine one that brings out your dimples and lights up your eyes, yeah that one - makes my day.
David, I don't know how it happened but I'm a better person when I'm with you.
Nick, you're who I think of to make me feel better when the morons are driving me crazy.
David, All of my best dreams star you.
Nick, that line of your neck, I love biting that. To mark you as mine.
David, I love to suck on your bottom lip.
Nick, I love you.
David, I love you.
Before he even realised it, he'd written dozens of little messages by scribbling down whatever came to mind, but all of them sincere, from the heart. He smiled, reading over them and actually seeing them for the first time. In a surge of uncharacteristic sappiness, he placed them all over the quarters. Some in obvious places, inside David's laptop, under the cushion of Nick's favourite chair. But most of them went in more awkward places, behind the photoframe on the top shelf, underneath the shoe box at the bottom of the wardrobe, places where they may not be found for weeks or even months.
Of course he'd forgotten the only time he could actually cook was when he had Nick standing over him, literally holding his hand. An hour in, the sparkling new kitchen was a complete mess and he was covered in a mixture of Athosian flour, spices and some green, liquid stuff he couldn't identify.
Giving up, he sat down on the table and waited for Nick to come back. He knew he should probably start cleaning up at least but he was tired and frustrated. Some of David's paper was lying around on the table and he dug out a pen from the bottom of his pocket and started scribbling.
Nick, I love that you manage to turn me into a relatively decent cook.
David, you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen in real life.
Nick, your smile - that deep genuine one that brings out your dimples and lights up your eyes, yeah that one - makes my day.
David, I don't know how it happened but I'm a better person when I'm with you.
Nick, you're who I think of to make me feel better when the morons are driving me crazy.
David, All of my best dreams star you.
Nick, that line of your neck, I love biting that. To mark you as mine.
David, I love to suck on your bottom lip.
Nick, I love you.
David, I love you.
Before he even realised it, he'd written dozens of little messages by scribbling down whatever came to mind, but all of them sincere, from the heart. He smiled, reading over them and actually seeing them for the first time. In a surge of uncharacteristic sappiness, he placed them all over the quarters. Some in obvious places, inside David's laptop, under the cushion of Nick's favourite chair. But most of them went in more awkward places, behind the photoframe on the top shelf, underneath the shoe box at the bottom of the wardrobe, places where they may not be found for weeks or even months.