"Are you feeling alright Archie? You hardly ate."

The ginger boy looked at his lover with concern in his eyes.
The Captain looked up from his plate, startled.

"That's nothing, Tintin. I'm full; I ate too much before dinner."

But Tintin wasn't satisfied. He noticed something very, very unusual on Haddock: his glass was almost full!
It was a good thing if Haddock had begun to drink less, but not if he shown no interest in food.

"Are you sure? What about your Whiskey, you love it so much."

Haddock looked at him, startled. Was there something he does not notice? Maybe his scout days had made him that way.

"Oh, the drink…yes…"

Tintin's dark eyes were on him, waiting for an explanation.

"As I said, I'm full. I'll eat and drink more later."

Beaten but not convinced, Tintin went back to his meal. The Captain observed him, jealous. How could he eat that much and yet he maintained his elegant form? Maybe it was the result of their adventures and the exercise he normally did before breakfast.
The Captain looked at his belly under his blue shirt. He was nothing than a fat, old fart. How Tintin fell in love with him was a mystery. He could not help but feel jealous when the young man met boys of his age, slim like him.

How he envied their youth.

His biggest fear was the possibility of Tintin realizing he was better with someone close to his age. The young man has shown him there was life beyond alcohol and depression. The retribution of his feelings was an unexpected blessing.
He couldn't imagine a life without his little one…

Blistering Barnacles, what was he thinking? Tintin never gave him a reason to have such thoughts!

A warm hand on his forehead awoke him from his thoughts.

"You definitively aren't well Archie. Are you sick? Is something upsetting you?"

Haddock's eyes roamed all over Tintin's slender body, the blue shirt lifted a little with his gesture, exposing the perfect white flesh.
His hands instinctively gripped onto his waist, calloused thumbs rubbed over the warm skin.

"Archie…"

Their eyes met.

"Is everything alright, sirs?"

Nestor's calm voice startled them. He was near the door, his face inexpressive as always.
Tintin almost jump out of his skin and sat instantly. He grabbed a toast and began to spread butter on it. Haddock, who was just reluctant to drink, took all the whiskey in one gulp, choking in the process. His face turned red and he began to cough.

"Master Haddock!"

The good butler walked quickly to the Captain, slapping him hard on the back.

"Thundering typhoons, it's alright Nestor!"

Tintin laughed softly and smiled.