Authoress' Notes:
Well, this is a ridiculously short piece, I know, but it was a short idea. I was going to make it longer, but I got to the end and realized I liked it as it was.
Forgive me for the random BSed guessing about the menu in a Victorian restaurant (God, I cannot spell the word "restaurant" to save my life! I have to spellcheck it every time! Also, what does it say about the spellcheck that it says "spellcheck" isn't a word?) I have no idea what they would've been eating, so I just made it up.
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
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Pork Chops
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For the first few months, it was all about Blackwood. Everything they did benefited him, and if it benefited Coward, well, that was even better. Blackwood was the center of the universe, and that was where he belonged. It was what was right; it was as it should be. But then something strange happened.
It started innocently enough, as these things so often do. The two of them had decided to take a meal together, as they often did, and, as they settled in at their table at the Café Royal, Blackwood noticed the younger man looking hungrily at the pork chops the gentleman at the next table had ordered. Blackwood, who always chose what they ate (no need to give Coward any ideas, after all), was personally far fonder of lamb, but he saw the hunger in Coward's eyes.
So, he ordered the pork chops.
He was sure that would be the end of it-- indulge his pet this once, and the man would be more willing to do as told. It was sensible, and nothing more. Practical. Logical.
Until the second time he ordered the pork chops.
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Hmmmm... that was fun. :D If I might be so crass as to compliment my own literary technique, I adore endings that make the reader connect the dots on their own. They're so much fun.
Please review! :D
