Dinner and a Liver
by
OhCaptainMyCaptain
I was laying on the sofa, thinking, when John came home. I noticed immediately that there was something different about him. He seemed slightly nervous, yet excited. Under his arm, he carried a container that I immediately deduced was for me. In his left hand, he had a bag of takeaway.
"Just stay where you are," John told me as he swept through to the kitchen.
I was surprised by his words. Normally he tried to cajole me into helping him with the small domestic things. I watched him set the container and bag down on the kitchen table. John was a vision. The artificial light did nothing to reduce the lovely golden tones of his skin and hair. I wanted to go into the kitchen and pull off his jumper and explore what lay beneath, but I knew it wouldn't be welcomed.
Much to my dismay, John closed the door to the kitchen so I couldn't watch him anymore. It was, perhaps, for the best as my thoughts kept turning in unwise directions. I tried to think of something else, anything else, than the imagined feel of my doctor's firm arse beneath my hands. Eventually, I got my thoughts under control and time passed.
When John called to me to join him in the kitchen, I rose from the sofa and crossed the room. Unsuspecting, I opened the kitchen door to find the table set with dinner. The container he had brought in with him was sitting in the centre of the table between two candles that were burning, giving off a warm light. I froze for a moment, then managed to blurt out, "John?" As I looked on, waiting for a reply, he came around and held out a chair for me and waited until I sat, then he went around and took the other seat for himself.
My doctor blushed beautifully as he folded his hands in his lap and leant forward. "I got tired of waiting for you to make the first move." He took a deep breath, then asked me, "Is this okay?"
I laughed. I sang. I cried. But none of it was out loud. I heard myself say in halting words, "Y-yes. It's... It's fine. It's more than... fine. It's good."
John beamed at me. Slowly, I smiled back.
Picking up the container, John looked at it with his mouth quirked into a grin. "I didn't think flowers or chocolates would be really your thing, so..." He handed me the box.
When I opened it, I was delighted by the gift of a diseased liver. "John, it's perfect. It's beautiful." I wanted to examine it right then, but realised it could wait, should wait. What was happening at the moment was far more important. "Just let me put it in the fridge."
"And then wash your hands," John told me with clear fondness in his voice as he rose and washed his own hands.
I put away the liver, washed my hands and resumed my seat across from my doctor, my wonderful, beautiful, glorious, BAMF ex-army Captain of a doctor. I didn't know what to do or say and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. If I did, I was scared I would wake up and find that it had all been a dream.
We ate in silence. Sometime during the meal, his right hand found my left and we held hands throughout the remainder of the meal. When we had finally finished eating, John tugged on my hand and pulled me from my chair to stand close to him. Our faces were mere inches apart, his breath ghosting over my lips. When he pulled me in for a kiss, I willingly allowed it. It was all that I had ever dreamt and more. Somehow we made it to the sofa where we spent a long hour simply kissing and exploring one anothers bodies with roaming hands. The unspoken love between us was palpable, as was the promise of more and it was perfect.