A lot of kissing? Yeah, he could do a lot of that. And John kissed back as much as he got, hand settling comfortably on that ass he'd so fondly described just a few moments before. He pressed up as close to his boyfriend's body as he could, knowing the way they fitted together, even if Bobby was an inch or so taller. God, he'd felt like half a person in the time Bobby had been away.
"Missed you too," John breathed, when the kiss was done, resting his forehead against Bobby's, just content to be there, together, in the stillness of their house, like any other couple that might be anywhere across London, or the world. Just another normal couple. Breathing almost in sync, drinking in the quiet solitude that was just them.
"I'll go get dinner on," John promised, and half-fumbled as he unhooked himself from Bobby, fingers reaching out behind him even as he made himself walk down the corridor, like instinctually he didn't want to be parted. He didn't need to tell Bobby to stow his shit: that lesson had definitely been learned.
But soon enough there was rummaging around in the kitchen to distract him, and grumbling, and chopping, and frying, and tying on the fucking apron before he forgot it, and making two burgers for him and his boyfriend.
no subject
A lot of kissing? Yeah, he could do a lot of that. And John kissed back as much as he got, hand settling comfortably on that ass he'd so fondly described just a few moments before. He pressed up as close to his boyfriend's body as he could, knowing the way they fitted together, even if Bobby was an inch or so taller. God, he'd felt like half a person in the time Bobby had been away.
"Missed you too," John breathed, when the kiss was done, resting his forehead against Bobby's, just content to be there, together, in the stillness of their house, like any other couple that might be anywhere across London, or the world. Just another normal couple. Breathing almost in sync, drinking in the quiet solitude that was just them.
"I'll go get dinner on," John promised, and half-fumbled as he unhooked himself from Bobby, fingers reaching out behind him even as he made himself walk down the corridor, like instinctually he didn't want to be parted. He didn't need to tell Bobby to stow his shit: that lesson had definitely been learned.
But soon enough there was rummaging around in the kitchen to distract him, and grumbling, and chopping, and frying, and tying on the fucking apron before he forgot it, and making two burgers for him and his boyfriend.