_______ shifted her body, cuddling closer to her beloved's chest. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savoured the reassuring warmth of Arthur's body, the scent of rain clinging to his porcelain skin as his slender arms twined tighter around her. Not a sound could be heard save for the ticking of the clock, and perhaps the crackling of the Englishman's radio as the sounds of a sweet love-song emanated from the speakers. _______ let herself dream, pensive and thoughtful as the idle wanderings of her subconscious became slightly more intense. It had been a long day for certain, being ill wasn't much of a consolation either, and it was a welcome thing to dream and slumber.
Arthur glanced down through half-lidded emerald eyes, observing his sleeping lover. A tender ink-stained hand caressed her face for a moment, ghosting over her warm skin as the Englishman felt her temperature. A fond smile appeared for a moment, soon turning worried when he realised that things weren't improving. Bundling the patchwork blankets tighter around ______ and cradling her in his arms bridal-style, Arthur only hoped the situation would improve. A small sigh expelled from his lips as he carried her into their shared bedroom, settling the young woman in the centre of the bed and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, poppet." Arthur murmured, taking the time to brush a strand of her hair out of her flushed face and then standing up. His partner stirred as she processed the shift in weight off the edge of the bed, the gentleman pausing and waiting for her to fall back asleep. It was even more of an arduous task when the cottage floorboards began to protest against his bare feet, the door drifting slowly shut behind him.
Picking his way carefully into the kitchen, Arthur immediately turned on the kettle and began to brew some Earl Grey. It was a gloomy, grey day outside and he needed some warmth. As he pivoted on his foot and placed the milk back into the fridge, another hand turned off the radio. Tea and a good book were Arthur's intentions, and a loud yawn confirmed the fact that he needed to rest. No matter how much _______ protested, he wouldn't cease his babying; he was adamant about looking after her, even going as far to venture through the rain to the shops to buy some medicine and rent a film for them to watch. It was some period drama that had almost made his lover cry, but it was barely half way through and she'd fell asleep again.
Slipping his embroidered book-mark back between the yellowed pages of his novel, Arthur let an irritated huff emit from his mouth. He was restless and worried, and even though he'd finished the Earl Grey he couldn't stop himself from pacing about the house. For quite a while he'd checked up on ______, whom awoke for a moment to request some water and then became overwhelmed by slumber again. Her skin wasn't as hot - Which was a blessed relief to the Englishman. He was still relentless though, ears almost unconsciously pricked so he could hear even the slightest noise about the house. But, after realising that he was going to make himself ill, he settled for firing up his laptop and curling up on the leather sofas amongst the mountain of pillows and knitted blankets. He'd been rather far behind with work, Arthur realised as he logged on to his e-mail provider, and even though he'd barely just finished a gargantuan amount of paperwork his work colleague Francis was still hassling him for more. Arthur simply deleted the repetitive messages from the Frenchman, sighing and massaging his temples in irritation. He was purely not in the mood for writing or for attending to spread-sheets, no matter how important they were (because taking care of ______ was his top priority). Scrolling down the page, Arthur finally found some messages worth keeping.
Whenever he was away from home _______ and him would e-mail each other a lot, and it was always nice to re-read the heart-felt words. More often than not they were only a few sentences long, consisting of affectionate little pet names and promises they'd keep. Although he'd never admit it, Arthur was a bit of a romanticist; he could be more romantic than anyone, and that certainly showed. He chuckled lightly at some of the remarks exchanged between himself and his lover, reminiscing:
It's so tedious here, I miss you so much. Stupid Francis keeps snapping at my heels demanding more reports about that idiotic project of his. When I get home we should have a nice warm bath together, maybe watch some films and have dinner. Sound nice?
Arthur had always been a rather eloquent man, but he often let himself go when conversing with ______. She wouldn't blame him for being tired. He read the next reply from her, hair falling artfully in his eyes as he smiled fondly.
Definitely. How about a massage as well? You get yourself so worked up; it can't be good for you. In fact, I'm in the frame of mind at the moment to speak to Francis- I know things have been tense since the after-work party but there's no need for him to make you work harder.
Good idea, poppet. I've never shied from hard work but this is getting ridiculous. Anyway, what else are we going to do when I get home? The essays and reports can wait, can't they sweeting~
Oh, I think I know perfectly well what you're thinking Iggy~
The Englishman rolled his eyes at the nickname his lover had gave him, clicking off his e-mails and then browsing a new website he'd found. Their speciality was strikingly beautiful engagement and wedding rings, and he'd had his eyes on a particular one for some time. Thankfully all the extra work he was putting in meant an increase in funds. His favourite happened to be the most expensive one though- It was a slender band of metal, shimmering sea-green and turquoise stones embedded in the engraved silver. It reminded Arthur of a ring his mother had when she was still alive, and the sentiment behind the thought made the jewellery seem even more important.
"I-Iggy...I need you..." Arthur glanced upwards with widened eyes, shutting the lid of his laptop. ______ stood in the door-way, looking somewhat like a child. The blanket was still bunched around her shoulders as she rubbed her eyes, hair tousled and gaze bleary. The blonde got out of his seat, wrapping his arm around one of her shoulders and turning her around. "Get back to bed, lovely, I don't want you catching a chill." He said gently, probing her back into the hallway and insisting that she rest some more. "Now, what can I get you?"
"Of course." Arthur smiled, rolling on to his side and cuddling up to his lover. Her eyes were brighter than normal, flickering over his face and closing from time to time. After a while she pressed a sleepy kiss to his lips, satisfied, before burrowing beneath the covers. "Love you Arthur."
"I love you too." And for the rest of the evening, the two lay beside each other, the Englishman watching his _______ sleep and contemplating their future together. The moment she was better he was going to ask her, and his own dreams were filled with the desires he longed to fulfil. As he pulled the young woman closer, snoring softly, he felt her fingers twine in his jumper. Smiling in his sleep, Arthur realised that this was what he wanted.
Life was perfect.