I dunno, I guess I wanted to try a ship that I've never seen before.
James opened the door, bottle of red wine in one hand, papers in the other. It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed.
Alexander sat at the dining room table. He looked up from whatever he was writing. "Evening, dear."
James guided the door shut with his foot. He smiled at Alexander, sitting on the chair next to him. "Hello, love."
Alexander kissed his cheek, then grabbed the bottle of red. He turned it in his rather large hands, his long nimble fingers tapping the lable. His eyebrows raised in interest. "Aged since 1745."
James smirked. "Thought we could do with something nice tonight."
Alexander nodded, his dark eyes darting between the bottle and the man sitting beside him. James gave a light laugh. He placed the bottle back on the table, then grabbed the papers. He could hear James yawn as he rustled through the pile, scanning the words that were neatly written on. He breathed through his nose, taking in the lovely smell of fresh paper. It had a hint of James sweet scent on it as well.
Speaking of James, he had gotten up, left and returned with two wine glasses. Alexander watched as he opened the bottle, slowly pouring even amounts into both of the glasses.
They both picked up a glass, then clinked them against each other. "A toast to us: The writers of the century!" Both men exclaimed, before taking a mouthful.
As Alexander had hoped, it had aged for the perfect amount of time. Short enough to not become vinegar, but long enough to be rich.
An itimate silence sat between the men as they drank.
To Alexander, wine and marriage were very much the same. The older, the better. A bitter cling. A warm feeling. A thickness.
He grabbed James' hand, rubbing it gently. It was nice, holding his curled hand, gnarled due to all the time spent writing. James sighed contently, shifting in his chair. He leaned and rested his head on Alexander's chest.
"Have you ever wondered why one man cannot love another?" James abruptly asked.
"I wonder every time I look at you." Alexander replied simply, kissing the tired man's forehead. "You should get some sleep, love."
James yawned yet again. "Will you come?"
"I have to finish this off." Alexander picked up his pen, then started writing. James closed his eyes, allowing the scratching to lull him into a light slumber.
After an hour or so of Alexander writing, he finally finished the piece. He read and re-read it, checking for mistakes. As usual, the original draft was flawless. He looked down at James' peaceful, resting face. He smiled, caressing James' cheek. James moved a little, startling Alexander. His knee jerked, but luckily the other man couldn't really feel it.
Alexander took this situation as an oppurtunity to gaze at his lover. Je couldn't help but admire his bone structure, his clear skin and everything else. He traced along all the features, the warm smooth skin comforting. It was a loving, gentle touch. There weren't sparks or fireworks.
Alexander fell asleep, an image of James' angelic face in his mind. His chin rested upon the other man's head.
* * *
Alexander opened his eyes. He was wrapped in sheets. A warmth was pressed against his back, so he turned his head slightly.
It was James. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Alexander's waist. They were both wearing nightshirts. James must have woken up and dressed the two in nightwear.
Alexander tapped James' arm. "Time to wake up, love." He whispered.
James opened his eyes, giving Alexander a sleepy smile. "Mornin'."
Alexander kissed his cheek. James gave him a bashful grin, retreating his arms from Alexander's slim body.
The two slid out of bed, rubbing their eyes groggily.
They wandered around the house, each doing their own things to get ready. Whenever they crossed paths, Alexander would kiss James' cheek.
Alexander didn't usually eat breakfast. It had taken a while for James to get used to, but he did eventually figure out that it was easier to just let it go and make a large dinner.
James did notice little habits that Alexander must have gotten from the Carribean. He also noticed habits from the war.
He usually ate in an untidy matter, his knife and fork in the wrong hands, talking with his mouth full, slouching. He was ravenous. He got edgy during storms, his hands writing erratically. But those were only a few Carribean habits.
Once, a man had been found dead outside the workplace. Alexander had run up, checked the body, then stepped away, announcing that man had been shot. He had gone as far as to name a gun and bullet that had been used. He was twitchy, sudden movements set him on edge. He winced at mentions of guns. Those were a few of his war habits.
Eventually the two had to leave for work. They called a carriage.
* * *
The next day, James was coughing badly. His nose and throat were blocked up and his entire head felt like it weighed a few extra pounds. He could barely move his mouth, as his jaw ached.
A doctor had diagnosed him with a sinus infection. The best thing to do was wait it out, try and cough up as much phlegm as possible.
So far, there had been no success. Alexander sat across the room from James, not wanting to get sick, but still wanting to help. He was writing, as usual.
James coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Soon, the single cough turned violent. He coughed and coughed repeatedly, feeling like he was going to retch. He eventually did. The stuff was yellow, and not acidic. Alexander cautiously walked over.
"Well done, love," He looked closely, "I think that was majority of the phlegm."
James nodded in response, a weak smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
Alexander rushed out of the room to get a washcloth. He came back, cleaned James up, then retreated to the corner, writing.
James just sat there, eyes closed. His face ached so much that it was numb now. Someone could have punched him and he wouldn't have felt it.
* * *
It took a few days, but James did get better. Alexander had been right about him vomiting all of the phlegm up, as his throat felt much less swollen and sore the next day, his breathing not stringy. His sinuses had cleared a bit, causing his face softly ache. He could move his jaw as well.
The two continued writing until their dying days.
So that was based of something that actually happened to me once! I did vomit phlegm during a coughing fit in the middle of the night. I also do get at least one sinus infection a year, as I don't normally get sick, so on the rare occasion I do, it's really bad. Practically every symptom was based of stuff that I get.
Love to all!
Sincerely,
M.D
