awwww this is sweet – Meg's Mumbles

complaininginthedark:

(here is a sweet something for @samhound who likes fluff and he said he’d draw my OC’s so we’re TRADING. yes. FlintHamilton fluff)

James found joy in life again; he woke each morning with Thomas in his arms, spent each day with love and laughter, went to bed with Thomas and slept until he decided he wished to get up. And though he missed the sea, the thrill of the hunt and command, he was at peace.

Thomas, however, was not.

He woke one morning to the sound of frustrated shouting from the kitchen. He found Thomas cursing a plate of what he assumed was supposed to be food.

“What on earth happened?”

Thomas huffed, his hands balling into fists. “I was- I wanted- shit.”

“Thomas, it’s alright!” He took the balled fists in his own and drew Thomas to him, kissed his damp cheeks. “It’s only food. What is it?”

“I never- I never had to cook for myself. I wanted to do something good for you but I don’t know how. Servants cooked for me as a child, those bastards gave me food in Bedlam and- there were cooks at the plantation… I’ve never made a meal for myself in my life.”

He was panting when he stopped talking. Panting, shaking, but after a moment he let the anger flow from him in a long breath. “I want to know how to do things for myself now I have the chance.”

James rolled up the sleeves of the nightshirt he wore and set about the kitchen with determination.

“James?”

He took the oats from the pantry and what little milk they had left from town.

“James.”

“C’mere, I’ll show you what to do.”

They spent the next hour preparing breakfast. Oats boiled in milk, sweetened with honey. James showed Thomas how to test when the oats were cooked, and though it was such a simple meal Thomas still had an expression of eagerness and love on his face. When he ate the meal it was with a satisfaction James had never seen before.

Thomas laughed as they cleared the pots, setting them aside to clean later. He stood behind James and held him close, chuckling under his breath as he pressed kisses to the length of his neck and jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you, love.”

“Does this mean I’ll finally get a rest from cooking?”

Thomas laughed again, his eyes wrinkling at the corners and James felt the familiar thud of his heart at the sight. “Not just yet… I’ll need you to teach me more before you let me loose in here, I’m afraid.”

“Good thing you’re a model student,” James said softly, reaching up to brush back a stray lock of greying hair from Thomas’ temple. He brought the man down into a kiss, tasting the sweetness of leftover honey on his lips.

They didn’t clean the pots for a while.