#posting this very early in the day bc i'm busy and worried about forgetting

[honeysghost]

Right Here, With You

Happy Valentine's Day!!! 💗I'm participating in @ode2youu/@shadowofyouu's Valenswap and wrote this sappy Sweetheart/Milo fic for @annahxredaxted 🫶🏻 I hope you like it!

Pairing: Milo/Sweetheart

Word count: 2,377

The AO3 version if you prefer: Right Here, With You - honeysghost

With every second spent in traffic, Sweetheart wishes desperately they had just taken the day off. I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day—they should be with Milo, getting swept up in their love for one another and taking some time to just be. 

It feels like they’d barely seen each other at all this week, with Milo working three nights in a row and Sweetheart leaving too early in the morning to catch him awake. It felt silly to say they missed him when they literally lived together, but it was the truth. 

Plus, Jett would’ve had their ass on a silver platter if they called off today, no doubt already having a lecture stored for them about responsibility, despite the fact that they had been practically carrying the Department on their back since the day they joined.

When they turn into the driveway, they let out a long breath. Finally, they were home.

Milo greets them at the door, pulling them into his arms before they even have a chance to close it completely—but they don’t mind. They sink into his embrace, nosing at the space between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in. 

“You smell delicious,” they mumble, barely coherent with their mouth pressed against his skin. 

“You look exhausted,” he comments, placing his hands on their shoulders and holding them steady, getting a good look at them.

“Hey, that’s not nice. I gave you a compliment, and you tell me I look like shit,” Sweetheart pouts, fighting a smile when Milo boops their nose to soften the blow.

“I did not say that, Sweetheart. I said you look tired, which you do. Long day?” 

They nod, leaning back into him. “You have no idea.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He laughs when they shake their head, their hair tickling him when it brushes against his jaw. 

“I just want to forget about it. It’s over and done with, there’s no point in wasting energy rehashing everything, you know? Besides, there’s more important things to do. I missed you.” 

They kiss him softly, running a hand through his hair as they do, relishing in the contended sigh that leaves his lips as they do.

Aggro, who had been sitting quietly by the door, inserts himself between the two, rubbing against their legs—the vibrations of his purring making Milo laugh into the kiss. Sweetheart pulls away and crouches down to his level, kissing him all over his face and scratching behind his ears. 

“You’re kind of ruining the mood, sweet boy,” they chide, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. 

Warmth blooms in Milo’s chest as he watches his mate shower the cat in affection. It hadn’t taken very long at all for Aggro to decide he liked Sweetheart. It surprised Milo a little to see him follow them around the apartment whenever they were there, not wanting to be somewhere they weren’t. Even Asher had a hard time getting the cat to do anything but hide away under the bed. 

Sometimes Milo swore he liked them more than him, which was absurd. 

Imagine favoring someone who had broken into his apartment twice over his parent? It wasn’t held against him, though. I mean, who could blame him? His Sweetheart was everything. 

“Are we gonna spend the whole night in the hall petting Aggro, or can we make this a little more romantic?” Milo questions, a smile on his face when Sweetheart stands, offering him a peck on the lips in consolation. 

“You’re not jealous of your cat, are you, baby?” They tease.

“Me? Jealous? As if I have anything to be jealous of. I’m simply stating the facts: it’s Valentine’s Day, and all that love shouldn’t be wasted on the man that’s going to steal food off your plate later.” 

“That could be either one of you, honestly.” 

A light smack on the shoulder makes Sweetheart laugh as they take off their shoes and walk further into the house. 

Milo trails behind them, eyeing the stiffness in their shoulders as they stretch, trying to ease the tension out, to no avail. 

“Really, Sweetheart, you should relax.” 

They plop down onto the couch, leaving enough space for Milo to settle in beside them, pulling them closer as he does. They waste no time melting into him.

“This is relaxing.” 

He sighs, brushing a loose strand of hair out of their face. It was hopeless, trying to convince them to take a break—and it wasn’t for lack of wanting, believe me. It was just that they could never seem to shut their brain off long enough to take one, which was endlessly frustrating for the both of them.

“Little pauses here and there don't count as relaxing, and you know it.” 

It made his heart ache to see Sweetheart come home every day, looking more and more tense by the second. If it was up to him, they’d both take a week off once a month and give themselves ample time to unwind—but convincing them to take even a day off was an impossible task. 

With everything going on at the Department these days, the reopened investigation into CloseKnit took up all their time and energy, leaving none for themselves.

“You know what they say about glass houses,” Sweetheart sighs, leaning their head back against Milo’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He hums in response, running a hand absentmindedly through their hair. It’s not lost on him how quick they are to deflect. If there was one thing they hated more than anything, it was being lectured about needing to take a break. They knew it, Milo knew it, but talking about it wasn’t something they were interested in.

If it were up to Sweetheart, this was all they’d need. A few quiet moments cuddled up on the couch was worth more to them than any actual break. 

“If we keep sitting here, I’m gonna fall asleep.” They mumble, breaking the comfortable silence that lingered around them.

Milo lets out a little laugh, turning to kiss their temple. “Would that be so terrible?”

“No, definitely not—but I’m hungry, and I want to change out of my work clothes.” 

When Milo moves them over on the couch to stand up, they whine at the immediate loss, making him laugh again. 

“What? You just said you wanted to change and eat.”

“I didn’t mean right this second.” 

They continue to pout as Milo takes their hands and pulls them onto their feet.

“Well, too bad, Sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you feelin’ good.” 

When they raise their eyebrows at the statement, Milo pulls them in for a kiss before rolling his eyes. “Not like that, you goof.”

“What exactly are you suggesting then, Greer?”

“Nothing, perv. Is it a crime to offer my mate a completely innocent chance to get dressed down?”

The way they glance at him in response hints at similar offers given in the past that were anything but innocent. 

“I mean it,” he whispers against their lips, kissing them once more. “I just want you feeling a little more relaxed.”

Without protest, Sweetheart follows him down the hall to their bedroom, pausing in the door frame as Milo starts to dig through their closet, eventually settling on one of their favorite shirts—his shirt, might he add, that they had all but stolen from him not even a month into dating—and a pair of sweatpants.

“Come here, baby,” Milo coaxes.

They oblige, shuffling toward him. His hands rest on their shoulders, squeezing lightly to loosen them up a little.

“Hey there,” they whisper, eyes focused on the coy smile tugging at Milo’s lips. 

“Hey there,” he echoes as his hands slide down their sides until his fingers find the hem of their shirt and curl into it, lifting it ever so slightly.

With newly exposed skin to explore, he lets his hands linger, thumbs rubbing small circles into their hips.

“You’re getting a little handsy there, Greer.” 

His smile widens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I’m doing is helping my mate undress, completely innocent, as promised.”

“Mm, sure.” Sweetheart hums in response, unconvinced.

He hooks two fingers under their chin, tilting their head to meet his eyes. “Hey, have I ever lied to you?” 

“No,” they sigh, biting back a smile of their own. “No, you haven’t.” 

“Exactly.” He emphasizes the word with a kiss, “So let's get you into something comfy.”

“I just didn’t realize this was a group project, is all,” they note, but let him continue his achingly slow efforts to undress them himself, savoring the way his hands roam over their body, already knowing every inch of them. 

When their work clothes are finally replaced with the outfit Milo chose, he takes a step back–admiring his handy work.

“Proud of yourself?” Sweetheart asks, and he nods.

“Much better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” they laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose before taking his hand in theirs and leading him back down the hall, toward the kitchen. 

“Onto the next task: food. What’s on the menu?” Sweetheart asks, opening the fridge to study its contents. Milo settles in behind them, arms wrapped around their waist, his chin resting on their shoulder. 

“Pasta? We could make it ourselves.” His breath tickles against their ear. “It tastes better that way.” 

“Pasta it is.” 

➽──────────────❥

The kitchen smells like garlic and onions. Aggro has taken on the role of supervisor, sitting on the counter and watching dutifully over the kitchen as Milo and Sweetheart take on the task of making dinner.

“Can you hand me the butter, please?” Sweetheart asks, standing over a pan on the stove. It had only taken a few minutes to make the pasta dough–the only thing left to do was wait for it to rise.

Milo hands them a stick of it, catching their wrist before they can pull away, and presses a kiss to their knuckles before letting them go. 

“You’re a dork,” Sweetheart laughs, more so at the dumb grin on Milo’s face as he leans into the full romantic aspect of the night than the gesture itself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this day not all about being cheesy and romantic? Excuse me for wanting to schmooze my mate.” He mumbles, mock exasperation in his tone.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry, how dare I chastise you for being a softie.” They lean in to give him a proper kiss, laughing more when Milo leans in the opposite direction, making a show of avoiding them. 

“No, no. You had your chance, Sweetheart. Romance privileges revoked.”

Warily eyeing the exchange, Aggro finds himself to be the next victim of Sweetheart’s antics as he’s promptly scooped off the counter and smothered in kisses, much to his chagrin. 

“It’s alright if you won’t kiss me,” they sigh dramatically, “I have Aggro to give me all the love I ne-” 

Milo is quick to pluck the cat out of Sweetheart’s hold, setting him down on the floor before finally kissing them properly. 

“You are such a brat.” 

“You love me,” they counter, arms wrapped around Milo’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. It’s deep, heady—he tastes like the wine they’d been sipping since their cooking endeavor had begun. 

“I do,” he mumbles against their mouth. “More than anything, baby.” 

By the time dinner is cooked, and the table is set, the house is bathed in golden light provided by the setting sun. It heightens the mood, Sweetheart thinks, and Milo lights candles to further add to the atmosphere.

“Now this is romance.” They exclaim, sitting down. 

Milo sits beside them, both of them relieved to be off their feet for the evening.

“Worth all the effort?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Absolutely.” 

For a while, they eat in silence, enjoying the meal they worked so hard on and soaking up each other’s company. If this was all their night entailed, it would be more than enough.

There wasn’t enough time in the world spent with Milo, Sweetheart thinks. From their first meeting, the connection they shared was clear—even if it was a little complicated at first. 

“Do you ever think about the past?” Sweetheart asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Milo shoots them a look, curious. “How do you mean?”

“Like when we first met. I think about it a lot, and then I think about where we are now and how funny it seems to have started with breaking and entering and ended up… here—in a house we own together. I never would’ve believed you if you told me eight years ago that this was our life. Surrounded by people we love, thrilled with the life we’ve created… it’s just crazy to think about that kind of stuff.”

He reaches under the table, hand finding their thigh and squeezing lightly. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, it sounds crazy.” 

There’s a smile on his face as he says it that makes Sweetheart’s heart ache at the sight. He was beautiful. 

“You made me so nervous at first,” they admit, feeling heat rise to their cheeks. They avoid eye contact, choosing to push food around their plate instead. 

They trusted him with every part of themselves, but it was still hard to say it out loud.

“I love you,” Milo says, threading his fingers between theirs. 

He knows all of it, even before they’ve said it. He’s always been good at taking the pressure off when Sweetheart starts to get overwhelmed with emotion. He can see it before it happens, reads them like a book and offers them comfort and a sense of understanding without them having to ask.

He made it so easy to love him. 

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here, with you, Sweetheart. You’re my forever—I mean that.”

When they look up from their plate, lock eyes with Milo, every worry they had about their day or their feelings melts away.

“I love you, Mi. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart. Now let’s eat, before it gets cold. It’d be a shame to let all our hard work go to waste, huh?”

[thefrontofmymind]

The 'Off Menu' Blurbs (Joseph Quinn x gn!Reader)

a/n: heyo! was toying up whether to post this as one or multiple blurbs but decided to do just one bc i'm tired lol. any feedback is greatly appreciated! xx

SYNOPSIS: A collection of blurbs based on each of Joe's courses from the Off Menu podcast, chronicling his and reader's relationship

WARNINGS: slight nsfw mention but very light, mention of reader wearing an outift with bare arms, alcohol and food consumption (lmk if there's anything else!)

OYSTERS & GUINNESS

It was warm in London for a change. You swore you’d never seen the streets so lively since you’d lived there–it was a nice deviation from the normal, private, English stiff-upper-lip London you were used to–people sat out on their balconies for supper and well into the evening as the sun painted the sky a sultry orange. 

You and Joe did try to make the most out of the day, but it was just too hot to function. You’d broken out the flowiest outfit you owned and Joe was trying to stay cool in a pair of shorts and a light linen shirt–which gave you the most perfect view of the light spottings of chest hair with his chain laying on top so you could hardly complain. But as the sun beat down on the concrete outside, the two of you seeked solace in your flat with the fan on full blast, devouring a full pack of ice-lollies between you.

As the sunlight began to drip down the horizon, The Big Smoke finally received some kind of relief. After spending all day inside, you were beginning to go a little stir-crazy, not to mention your itchy feet from hearing the hubbub outside.

“Do you want to go for a little walk?” you asked Joe as he came back inside from your balcony after having a smoke. You were sat on the sofa during the early evening, barely even paying attention to what was playing on TV; you had more on your mind.

Joe thought for a second, closing the balcony door and putting his cigarette packet on your side table next to it. “Yeah, why not? D’you wanna get dinner or something?”

“We’ll see what’s open and around.” You stood up to slip on some sandals and grab your phone and whatnot, while Joe did the same, before the pair of you strolled out of your apartment building hand in hand.

The air was still thick from the sweltering day, but there was a light breeze that blew through the street, barely enough to move your hair, but enough to give you the smallest hint of a chill on your bare arms. Joe removed his hand from your grasp, instead opting to pull you into the side of him with an arm absently rubbing your shoulder.

Shops were beginning to close up for the night, which worried you a little, until you found a small shack-like oub about 15 minutes down the road. It didn’t seem too busy, at least the couple of tables set up outside were empty.

You looked to Joe as you both began to slow your pace in front of it. Joe let out a ‘hmm?’ with a questioning look–asking ���does this look alright?’. You nodded before grabbing his forearm and lightly pulling him into the small pub-like establishment.

There was a young woman behind the bar who smiled at the two of you as you walked in. Before long you were both seated at one the cast iron tables on the footpath, you with some kind of fizzy spritzer and Joe with a pint of Guinness on the way, along with a plate of some oysters–you figured it would be worthwhile with the weather and all.

There was a comfortable air around you as Joe excitedly told you about a project his agent was trying to get him an audition for, his mouth was going a million miles a minute and he frantically waved his hands about as he walked you through the plot and what part he wanted to play–along with how he’d play it. It always amused you when he got so moved by his job, seeing him so enthusiastic simply tickled you pink and he definitely knew it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, looking to you with wide–yet playful–eyes as he took a break in his spiel.

“Just don’t forget to breathe, babe,” you chuckled, which made him smile quite sheepishly before the woman from behind the bar stepped outside again to bring the pint and plate or oysters–raw, of course. You both thanked her before beginning to dig in, leisurely.

“‘m sorry, darling,” Joe began, taking a sip from his glass. “Just really excited about this role-really want it!”

“And I’m sure you’ll nail the audition!” you answered. “And it’ll get like a thousand award nominations and I can be your cheerleader when you win!”

Joe laughed again–a sound you’ll never get sick of, nor the sight of him holding his hand to his mouth trying to hide his smile. “Here’s to hoping…”

And so, the pair of you spent that summer night at the small pub-shack–that you regretted never catching the name of, even years later when you tried to track it down again, only to find it had since shut down–eating your oysters and talking about whatever random thought crossed your mind, simply living in the love around you and Joe; a night you will certainly never forget.

~~~~~~~

STEAK TARTARE & DIRTY MARTINIS

Hollywood was a scary place to say the least. Everywhere you went, you felt out of place–and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the people around you were thinking the exact same thing. That was the exact reason you preferred to stay in the small BnB you and Joe had rented while he had to go to some meetings in LA–with you tagging along for the fun of it.

It almost felt pitiful, you were hiding away while Joe was working and meeting brand new, exciting people, though you didn’t dare tell him–he didn’t need to be worried about you, you just had to get through a couple more days of isolation before you could hop back on a plane with your love, back to your city and your bed, you could handle it.

You began watching some new show only available in the states during your stay–perched on the sofa with a small blanket and a bag of okay crisps to keep you going. You didn’t even realise how quickly the day had passed until you heard the front door open, along with the clang of keys on the table and some shoes shuffling in the hallway.

“Honey! I’m home!” Joe called out in a sing songy voice, walking into the living room and looking at the TV, standing behind the couch. “What’s going on now?”

“She’s about to find out who murdered the cop-remember I told you about him? He used to live in the city but he moved to the town?” you rambled. Joe had caught glimpses of the show that had taken your attention, though he wasn’t nearly as invested as you were. You barely looked at him, keeping your focus on the screen ahead of you.

Joe circled around the couch to sit next to you, slowly grabbing the remote before pausing it, finally getting your attention. “D’you wanna go out for dinner tonight?”

“Could I give it a miss? I don’t really feel like going to some Hollywood dinner…” you answered, tentatively. “‘ts just not really my scene…y’know?”

It finally dawned on Joe–how could he have missed this?–he’d been so busy, getting caught up in the LA of it all to notice that you’d become somewhat of a recluse in the City of Angels. It was fate that he had plans other than networking tonight.

“I meant just us tonight.” He grabbed both your hands, looking at you with a face of pure adoration–mixed with the slightest amount of concern for you. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since we’ve been here, there’s this diner on Hollywood Boulevard I wanna take you to–it’s apparently like this institution and it’s like classic American diner food. Though you’d love it..”

It was very sweet of Joe to think of you, and you had began to wallow in self pity just a little throughout the day–maybe it would actually be good to go out and get a bite instead of staying in like you did every other night, you just had to work up the courage.

“Just let me get dressed.” You didn’t even let him answer before you jumped up from your seat to the bedroom you were temporarily staying in, looking through your suitcase for something appropriate. “Casual or more fancy?” you called out to Joe a few feet away, stood on the doorway.

“Casual-yeah. I’m just wearing this.” He waved over his outfit, light wash jeans, a white graphic t shirt and white sneakers–you chose a similar ensemble.

In a matter of half an hour you two were stepping out of an Uber and slipping into a red leather booth at Musso & Frank’s Grill. The dark wood of the room made it feel very comforting, and the old waiter in a red tuxedo jacket made sure you and Joe were settled before letting you read through the menu.

It didn’t take long for you to decide on your courses, nor Joe. After your orders were taken you couldn’t help but notice how the lights seemed to soften in Joe’s eyes, and he had gained the start of a tan from the California sun.

“Thank you,” you began. “For bringing me here–getting me out of the house…” The gesture wasn’t lost on you, and you were grateful you didn’t fall by the wayside.

Joe just looked at you, before placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a quick squeeze. “Of course, darling. ‘s why I wanted you to come with me, wanted to experience it all with you.”

That man never failed to make you smile. “Love you…” you answered, scotting a few inches closer to him in the booth to put a head on his shoulder while you waited for your meal.

~~~~~~~

ORECCHIETTE ALLA BARESE & BANG AVERAGE WHITE WINE

Italy was an absolute dream. Days spent exploring the ancient cities, browsing through every souvenir shop you’d come across, and of course, the food. You and Joe were alike with your love of food, and the Italians just knew how to make it right.

On your weeklong trip, you and Joe had decided to try a different restaurant every day and night for lunch and dinner, and it had been working out wonderfully for the pair of you so far. Having a foodie for a boyfriend had its perks, if you didn’t like whatever you ordered, he’d gladly switch with you if his dish sounded more appetising to you.

Oftentimes though, you’d end up just ordering the same dish if you fancied, and that situation normally ended up with you both making obscene noises to each other over the table because–you couldn’t lie–you both had good taste. In fact, that’s been the most common tactic for you both while on holiday.

You couldn’t stop eyeing Joe all evening, in a cream cotton leisure suit with a baby blue button-up underneath, paired with a light sunburn on the top of his nose–after all, he was an Englishman on holiday in the Mediterranean–he looked the perfect picture for your memories of your trip to the country, and he knew exactly what was swirling through your mind as you continued to stare at him all throughout dinner, letting the occasional smirk swipe across his face when he’d catch your gaze, placing a hand on your thigh that slowly began to inch higher and higher.

Your frustration, you realised, was only beginning as Joseph asked the waiter for a subpar white wine–the subpar white wine, a sign he was planning on going in for the night. You see, you and Joe had a philosophy when it came to wine, unless compared to other wines, the quality doesn’t matter, what did matter–at least to Joe during times like these–was how you both seemed to get more of a buzz off of wine than anything else, which always made for a fun night.

You enjoyed the game with Joe, the flirting and innuendos–especially when you both knew you’d end up screwing at the end of the night anyway, it was just more fun to engage in the pursuit. You both liked watching each other squirm, it was a competition between the two of you. First, he’d start playing with his ring, ‘absentmindedly’ sliding it up and down his finger while making sure you were watching, and then you’d say you were getting too hot so you’d constantly be pushing your hair away from your face and chest to give him a good view, and then before you’d know it, your foot would be sliding up his pant leg while he’d be begging you to abandon the rest of dinner and just go back to your hotel room already–”we can just order room service after-later! I meant later, when we’re both more hungry!”.

But tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold out like you normally did, between what may have been the best plate of pasta you’d ever eaten in your life, and the start of a buzz growing in your head from the cheap wine Joe had insisted on getting, your self-control was beginning to falter, you could barely keep a conversation by dessert.

“Darling, have you been listening to anything I just said?” Joe asked with a smirk, snapping you out the trance that his light stubble held over you for a moment too long. “You looked all spaced out…”

“‘m just…” you began, stretching your back and pushing your chest out. “Just a bit tired is all. Ready to head back…”

Joe let out a short huff, smiling at you–while you sat across from him at the table, head jokingly hung low in defeat. “Well then…. ‘ll pay if you go call a taxi, can’t leave you hanging, can I?”

You couldn’t help but smile, you may have lost, but in a way it wasn’t bad, not when you caught that particular glint in Joe’s eye that only meant there wouldn’t be any rest for you any time soon.

~~~~~~~

BIG BUTTERY FISH WITH DAUPHINOISE POTATO & NICE WHITE WINE

It was always interesting to see how Joseph interacted with his friends–always caught you off guard just how much he loved being at the centre of the party, especially when he was always so soft-spoken and tentative with you–it piqued your interest when you two first began dating and he told you all about the big dinner parties he’d held for friends since way back in his teens when he was still living in his childhood home, you couldn’t wait to see just what he meant when he said he’d put on a feast for a king.

It took months in the making, but the two of you had managed to invite just under a dozen of your closest friends over for a dinner get together one late June evening, and you’d gone all out.

Between the tacky-yet-endearing Poundland decorations you’d hung around your back garden, to the LED speakers you’d been blasting anything from ABBA to Frank Sinatra on, your place was ready for a party. And then there was the menu, you and Joe spent weeks brainstorming the most perfect menu that was filled with fresh, seasonal ingredients that complimented each other, and a specialty drink, which when you couldn’t decide, you just decided to pop to the off-licence in search of whatever white wine they had the most of–because knowing his friends, you’d need a lot of it.

The pair of you worked well in the kitchen, while Joe took care of roasting the fish you’d picked out fresh that morning, and you worked on layering the Dauphinoise potato, you were a well-oiled machine.

“Could be on one of those cooking shows, like Come Dine With Me but for couples,” he joked, hanging up the apron he’d brought special for the night–plain white with ‘KISS THE COOK’ in big, scribbly lettering.

“Pretty sure they already did that a couple years ago, love,” you answered, making sure everything was in its place in the kitchen before your guests began to arrive, being cut off by the doorbell.

“Well we’d win it!” Joe called as he walked down the hallway to answer the door, making you laugh and setting your mind at ease before the social labour you were about to endure. You heard a chorus of ‘hello’s and ‘how’re you going?’s in the next room as you finished wiping down the counters in the kitchen, eager to make a good first impression, and that you did.

The night went much easier than you’d built up in your head, thanks in a large part to Joe, who would check up on you periodically to make sure you felt included in the conversation, your social battery was depleting, and you weren’t becoming overtired. The group began to thin out at around eleven, and just yourself and Joe were left alone by midnight. 

You were grateful for the fact that after dinner, Joe announced it was time to help clean, creating an assembly line in your kitchen as your guests took turns scrubbing and drying the plates and cutlery while the two of you took a seat in the living room.

“We cooked a five star meal for you all! The least you could do is the washing up, ungrateful pricks!” he joked, voice heavy and slurred due to the several bottles of white wine you’d all shared in the few hours since the little get together began.

As much fun as you had, it felt good to take off your makeup and slip into your bed with Joe, engulfed by your duvet, finally letting your mind rest as your home was once again quiet and the only light still left on was the lamp on your bedside table.

“D’you have fun, darling? I know they can all be a bit much at times…” Joe nuzzled into your neck, barely leaving enough room on your own pillow for you to lay down properly. 

“No, no, it was a great night…” you answered, grabbing his hand that hovered over your hip underneath the bed sheets. “Dinner was really good, good fish.”

Joe let out a ‘hmph’ while trying to move even closer into your side, his eyes closed and his breathing was beginning to even out. Somehow, in only a t-shirt and boxers, Joe could always manage to keep the two of you warm, leaving your bed during the night became a tried and true effort when he stayed over because the second you’d pull the covers off of your body, you’d be quickly reminded of the comfort you’d grown so accustomed to in your slumber.

Before long, the man next to you let out a few snores, letting you know he’d finally drifted off, leaving you to recount the night, and just how much you loved your cooking partner, who would make a killer buttery fish.

~~~~~~~

DUKE’S MARTINI

It was an exciting night for you and Joe–the night of your anniversary. In all honesty it crept up on the two of you–between Joe’s career skyrocketing and simply the fact that in the past year, the two of you were in a place that felt like you’d known each other for a lifetime, and frankly you just forgot to count out the date months ago.

It wasn’t until you received a notification a week prior from your Facebook about a post you’d made that reminded you of the date and it’s significance. You both were frantic trying to prepare surprises that seemed adequate enough for the occasion–you’d gone the traditional route, the first anniversary gift is a clock so you got Joe a new watch, and a nice one at that, while Joe wanted to go for something more to do with an experience rather than a tangible gift. He almost regretted how much he had to namedrop to get a reservation at Duke’s in Mayfair on such short notice, though he wouldn’t do it for anyone else, you were the one thing special that would force him to run to the ends of the earth if he had to.

So by some miracle, he managed to snag an eight-thirty dinner reservation at the upscale restaurant. Dressed in your finest, you were confused about where he was taking you–keeping it a secret from you was part of the fun, he decided, so he simply told you to dress as fancy as you could and be ready to go at eight. It wasn’t until you’d finally stepped out of the taxi that you realised where he’d brought you.

“Ready for London’s best martini, my love?” he joked as you both stood outside on the footpath, hooking your arms together and walking in through the front doors. Martinis had kind of been ‘your thing’ with Joseph. Before you got together, he’d never met a person who’d enjoy a dirty martini like he did–while all your friends couldn’t understand why you didn’t just always opt for a fruity cocktail or a pint when you went out all together, just to make it easy. But the two of you enabled each other in your cocktail snobbiness. In fact, you’d mentioned the iconic Duke’s martini to Joe before, wanting to try it together was on your bucket list.

The bar reminded you of something out of the Titanic, with the decadent blue velvet seating, the classically painted portraits decorating the walls, and the bartenders decked out in waistcoats and white blazers–it was a little intimidating in the moment.

After you were settled and ordered, you sat in comfortable silence with Joe, who was admiring his new watch still, making you smile.

“Hey, what’s the time?” you joked, snapping Joe out of his trance. He playfully showed off his wrist to you–the sixth time since you’d given it to him, you were just glad he liked it.

“It’s…” he paused to build suspense. “Time to get a watch. No, it’s eight-fifty.”

You couldn’t help but look all around the room, there were just so many intricate details of the room–Joe was doing the same, pointing out the portraits while you whispered to him about the amount of different bottles stored behind the bar.

You felt out of place but not alone, Joseph was acting just the same as you–as a giddy child trying to be quiet and as well behaved as possible at a fancy museum–but that was part of why you loved Joe, he always did what he could to make you comfortable, it was his top priority. Whether he was just keeping a hold on your hand as you walked down the street together or making sure you were included in conversation, asking you if you remember a particular story and prompting you to tell it, or simply putting your pleasure above his, he never faltered.

To put it simply, you were a goner a long time ago, and celebrating a full year together just solidified that for you. No words, nor a figure, could describe the amount of love you had for him, and he to you, so much so it made you uneasy at first. But as you began to put your feelings into words–as best you could–you realised you’d finally found your person–the one, if you will, and Joe felt the same. In a year, you learnt so much, experienced so much, and loved enough for a thousand lifetimes, perhaps more.

~~~~~~~

MADELEINES FROM THE FRENCH HOUSE

You hated being busy, you hated when Joe was busy, and when those two events overlapped, it was almost like your own personal hell. Between your deadlines and Joe’s constant travel, you had almost no time together, for weeks on end–and you could barely get by with your sparse phone calls when you had a free ten minutes.

It seemed well overdue when Joe had finally gotten back to London after jet setting around the world, doing the famous actor thing. You were so proud of Joe–of course, you were–but you just missed him. And even being in the same city, you still had client dinners and it seemed like you’d have to work well into the wee hours of the morning just to be on track to finish on time.

Your only solace was your lunch hour–which you’d had to convince yourself to even take after begging from Joe to just take some time for yourself. You and Joe had plans to meet at the French House in Soho–a five minute walk from your office. He’d made it easy for you, already ordered your favourites so you’d be able to just sit, eat, and spend some time with your lonesome boyfriend.

You’d sat down in a rush, not before giving him a kiss–you’d missed the feeling of his lips on yours, you’d missed breathing in his scent, and seeing the way he’d scan over your body–it wasn’t lost on you in the slightest.

Your lunch was delicious–Joe knew you like the back of his hand, he’d even ordered dessert to be baked while you ate so your fresh madeleines would be ready right after you finished eating. And of course, the conversation was vivacious and lively–you both talked about your work, he told you about Brazil, you told him about the jokes the new intern was making that caused your whole office to crack up laughing.

There was an air of domesticity to it all, Joe was very happy to play the doting boyfriend while you were busy being a superstar in your field, you’d done the same for him so if anything it felt only fair. It all just felt easy for you, Joe made it easy. He’d thought it all through, even already gave the waiter his card so you didn’t have to worry about paying while you frantically looked at the time and realised you’d better get back to work–though not before another kiss, and a promise that when your deadline was over, you’d thank him–and really thank him, causing him to blush, even as a grown man in a crowded restaurant.