#gbh

“Our romantic dinner should’ve been different,” he muttered, placing the cool washcloth on your warm forehead. “Not this.”

Dinner was something couples did for dates and the restaurant was nice. He checked. But, no, when he tried to give you a sense of normalcy you got food poisoning. The only reason he didn’t get sick was because he ordered something completely different.

“I know,” you tried to smile, but you grimaced from what was likely another wave of pain before you curled back up again in the fetal position. “Not your fault.”

God blinked once. Twice. “I can kill him,” he offered.

He wondered if anyone would miss the cook if he took him out. Making a body disappear was like second nature to him. He could make it hurt, too.

That was romantic, right?

He saw from the twitch in your lips that wanted to laugh. It would've sounded crazy or downright scary to anyone else, but not you. He was just wired differently and you understood that. It was one of the reasons why he loved you. Love wasn’t something he gave easily or freely, but you more than earned it.

“No killing. Not today.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “So, what do I do?” he asked. He gave you blankets, a bucket and cloth in case you got sick, water, and a washcloth for your head. What was he missing?

Your smile was borderline sheepish when you asked, “Can you just hold me for a second?”

He wordlessly stretched out beside you and held you as gently as he was capable of. In the back of his mind he knew holding you wouldn’t take the pain away, but it would bring you comfort. He’d hold you all night if he could give you that. He still wanted to kill the cook, but that would come later.

Tonight, and every night, you were his priority.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️