Prompt: Martin moves in with Douglas, and things are wonderful. Except Martin is constantly hungry because he was underfed for so long that his body just can't get enough food. Martin is embarrassed about his late night snacking. Douglas sets out to ensure Martin has enough to eat.
"That the last of it, Martin?" asked Douglas as he set down a box next to the two suit cases already placed in the center of his living room.
Martin carted the box he was carrying over as well and took in the small pile. "Yeah, there wasn't much room in the attic, so... yeah. That's all of it," he said, looking over his belongings.
"Splendid," drawled Douglas, stepping over and drawing an arm around the smaller man's slim shoulders. He planted a kiss to ginger curls. "Welcome home, mon amour."
Martin flushed crimson, smiling and then turning to kiss his boyfriend properly. "Thanks, Douglas."
He felt oddly giddy at that thought. This was his home, a warm well-furnished house with his lover rather than a drafty loft above six agricultural students. He could scarcely believe his luck. He hardly dared to actually, considering how his luck usually went.
"My pleasure," murmured Douglas in return, giving Martin a squeeze, "Well, I suppose that demonstrates the benefit of being your own man with a van."
Martin chuckled. "Yeah, I s'pose so. Trouble is there's no one to pay me!"
"Perhaps not," agreed Douglas, smiling as well, "Dinner is on me then. I'll go rustle us up a couple of rather excellent omelets I think." The first officer winked at his young captain and then ambled into the kitchen to set to work. Martin sat down on one of the boxes, a hand slipping to his stomach. It gurgled hopefully. Real proper food. A real home cooked meal that wasn't toast, pasta, or the odd baked potato. Martin smiled and rubbed at his tummy. He was absolutely starving. But for once the thought didn't make him miserable. There was a sizzle and a welcome smell of cooking egg coming from the kitchen.
"Ham and cheese alright?" Douglas called over the noise.
"Sounds amazing!" Martin shouted back. His stomach growled eagerly in agreement.
Douglas proved to be the master of omelets, and countless other dishes. The man clearly loved to cook which was a dream come true for Martin who had spent so much of the past few years living off of the same staple foods night after night. He'd almost lost his appreciation for different tastes and textures. Now however, that was back in full force. Martin ate, and ate, and tasted and sampled and gorged himself on whatever Douglas sat in front of him with glee. He didn't bother to hold back his appreciation, groaning and complimenting nearly every bite. Once Douglas had made a chocolate souffle so good that Martin had positively moaned in pleasure. They ended up in the bedroom within five bites. Yeah, things were looking up. Martin still kept up with his van job, wanting to help pay the bills when he could, but it was a lot more tolerable when there was a nice hot meal and a nice hot boyfriend to come home to.
As the days went on, Martin began feeling more energetic and in brighter spirits. there was a better color to his skin, his hair shone again, but he was still painfully thin and ravenously hungry at every meal. One day Martin was musing on the fact that despite making a right pig of himself at every meal, he wasn't really gaining all that much.
"Well, my ribs aren't as visible anymore, but I'm still-"
"Sharp enough that I worry about waking up with lacerations from your hips and shoulders," Douglas supplied with a grin. It softened however as he saw Martin's shoulders slump a bit.
"I'm only exaggerating, my dear," he amended, reaching over to take Martin's hand, "Don't worry about it so much. It takes time. We're in no rush. I'm happy just to see you getting a good meal in you thrice a day."
"I know," Martin sighed, giving Douglas a small smile in return, "I'm just... So tired of being cold all the time. And hungry."
"Your body knows what it needs, mon amour. If you're hungry, eat. You probably need an extra boost. You're hardly eating more than what I would call the usual amount," Douglas said, giving his lover's hand an encouraging squeeze.
"Yeah... You're probably right," said Martin, leaning in for a kiss, "nearly tea time isn't it?"
"Quite so, Martin my dear."
But Martin was still hungry even after picking up a few more snacks or an extra portion at dinner. Somehow his malnourished body was still clamoring for more even after he'd eaten his fill. He was hungry nearly every two hours and though Douglas didn't seem to mind his lover's frequent trips to the pantry, the man himself felt guilty for eating so much of the other man's food. Of course, Douglas had bought it for them both, picked up some of Martin's favorites specifically, but the guilt clung on. He tried to cut back on his snacks, but his stomach, grown demanding and greedy gave him away and then Douglas would get up and fetch him something instead, so there really wasn't a benefit to that.
The worst was at night. Martin would lie awake long after Douglas had dozed off, trying to stop his tummy from growling by flexing his abdominal muscles. sometimes the growling grew so insistent that Martin worried they'd wake his bedmate. Eventually, Martin would give in and carefully slip from Douglas's arms, get out of bed, and then pad to the kitchen to make himself a peanut butter sandwich and milk, or whatever else caught his eye. An apple with nutella, a tin of mixed nuts, biscuits, left over pastries... Anything and everything that he craved. Martin felt quite shy about this new habit. Wasn't it enough that he ate constantly during the day? But he was hungry. And so he ate before crawling back under the covers, content and sated until morning when he would wake and be ravenous once again. He hoped his body would work out they weren't in danger of starving anymore. This was getting ridiculous.
Well, at least Douglas was a heavy sleeper. He might just die of embarrassment if his lover walked in on him eating yet again. He already seemed to find Martin's endless appetite amusing, though the teases were kinder, more to put Martin at ease than anything. If he were honest, he rather liked that attention. It was... sweet in a way. Martin took another bite of his toast and Marmite, humming softly as it settled his grumpy stomach.
The light clicked on and Martin started, then blushed almost completely crimson.
"Hello, I thought I heard a little mouse raiding the larder," drawled Douglas with his usual ease as he stepped into the kitchen, "Fancied a nightcap, eh?" He smiled in response to Martin's splutters, his hair tousled rather attractively above deep brown eyes that were mirthful beneath their sleepiness.
"Martin, it's fine. I've told you," he added gently, going to pour himself a glass of water, "Mi casa es su casa. Quite literally now. I'll see you in bed." He smiled and then ambled back to the bedroom.
"Night," Martin called softly after him, then looked down at his plate. He picked up his toast again and nibbled at it. Eventually, as always seemed the case now, his hunger won out and he resumed eating with gusto.
Douglas didn't bring up Martin's Midnight Meals, much to the captain's relief. He was still rather shy about the whole ordeal. He'd almost skipped his snack the night after, but well, it was hard to sleep with a grumbly tummy. The only change was that now Martin was more likely to find a plate of something covered in foil with a note on it reading: For Martin. At first Martin had wondered if this was Douglas making fun of him again, but then if it was a joke, at least it was a tasty one. He'd found everything from a sandwich to a piece of chocolate creme pie under that note over the next week. Douglas never said a word about it, nor about the missing dish in the morning. There was just always a new plate at night. They seemed to grow only more elaborate as time went on. Soon Martin was polishing off nearly a second dinner plate every night. It seemed to help though, his appetite was back to what he would consider normal and his body was strong, still slim, but with a layer or two of soft insulating flesh over everything. He was rather proud of it. And Douglas seemed to like it quite a lot as well.
Even as Martin's appetite receded slightly and his daytime snacks became fewer, his midnight one remained and Douglas continued setting out plates for him. The only acknowledgement Douglas ever gave of his nightly gifts was one night when Martin climbed back into bed, stomach full and warm of a really excellent goulash. The first officer had woken at that, then hummed and turned over to spoon him as his captain giggled. A large warm palm had then settled on Martin's slightly rounded belly.
"Good, you found it," Douglas rumbled, clearly still half asleep.
"Yeah, thanks," Martin murmured in response, feeling his cheeks warm as Douglas rubbed at his full stomach.
"You are perfect, mon amour," the other man sighed, his breaths becoming long and slow once again as he fell back asleep.
Martin grinned and laid a hand on top of Douglas's. "You too."