awww yeah

[mustbethetruth]

continued from here

To be honest, he isn't sure what he'd been waiting for; perhaps he was trying to see how long he could last without kissing, or clinging, or betraying his desire in any overly forward way; or maybe he was waiting for the both of them to be bared to the waist, so that when he finally gave in, they could begin right away with the honey aspect of this.

Regardless of what he'd been waiting for, it appears as if the moment has arrived. Certainly he can't negotiate himself into waiting longer. He reaches for Watson, sliding his hand into his hair, and pulls him in for an unapologetically passionate kiss.

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[lightconductor]

By this point, Watson had the eggs boiling away, and was keeping a close eye on the timer. The coffee was poured and on the table; he was just setting the toast there, as well. "Shouldn't be long now," he said, brightly. He was feeling optimistic about this, about his newfound role as cook, and trying not to be overwhelmed about it.

Looking at Holmes, he was hard-pressed not to smile, not to appreciate a little just how handsome he was in his barely-groomed dishevelment.

[mustbethetruth]

Grinning himself now, he gives Watson a kiss and a brief embrace before he sits at the kitchen table. Watson is an exceedingly good husband -- something Holmes had already known -- but he appreciates that fact now, not just because he's supplying breakfast but because he's so cheerful about it, and he has the good grace to be nearly naked and incredibly handsome while doing it.

"Aren't we disgustingly cheerful this morning? It's a good thing we have the house to ourselves, or we may spoil the appetite of anyone else who might have to witness the two of us."

[lightconductor]

Watson laughed, lightly. "Disgustingly cheerful, indeed. As though I were the only one guilty of such a thing. But there are plenty of reasons to be glad no one else can intrude upon us here. Oh, here we go."

Deeming the eggs done -- at least, the timer was up, and he hoped they were done, and he could not see how one could possibly tell with an egg, other than by breaking it open -- Watson fished them out of the water with a slotted spoon, and after placing them into a pair of egg cups he had ready, he brought them over to the table. He paused to kiss Holmes's cheek as he put the eggs down, and then took his own chair.

"Bon appetit, as they say."

[mustbethetruth]

"Bon appetit." He smiles to himself, taking a sip of his coffee; it does feel rather good to speak in French, and he hardly gets enough practice at it. Setting his cup down he butters his toast. "What a splendid chef you are, my darling husband. Nearly as splendid as you are as a dessert," he says in French.

He starts in on his egg, which is cooked very well he has to say, and he gives Watson a bright smile.

[lightconductor]

Watson raised an eyebrow, in the process of cutting the top off of his egg. "What was that?" he asked. He fully expected not to be told, but he felt it was almost his duty to ask. If Holmes felt it necessary to switch to other languages in the middle of a perfectly good English conversation, then Watson was going to ask questions, and that was all there was to it.

His egg seemed to be properly cooked. This was a little bit of a relief.

"My dear fellow, for what I'm sure is not the last time however much I might wish it were, you really must stick with English if you wish to have a conversation with me."

[mustbethetruth]

"I miss French sometimes," he says with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I never say anything that's essential for you to know." He smiles playfully and takes another sip of coffee. "Maybe I ought to save my French inclinations for when you're not as interested in conversing with me."

The thought of murmuring French nothings against Watson's skin is fairly appealing. Would Watson find as much fault with that as he does with breakfast conversation?

[lightconductor]

"Perhaps not essential, but if you address me in French, I am going to be curious as to what you say." Watson peered at him over the top of his coffee, one raised eyebrow. He was finding this playing about in French to be faintly annoying, honestly, but at the same time... it was so very Holmes, and he loved it, even if he didn't understand more than the odd word. "Particularly when it drops down into an otherwise uneventful conversation like that. Call a greivous character flaw, if you must."

[mustbethetruth]

"Well then, I believe I will. You must have a few. No husband could be as good as you without a grievous character flaw in there somewhere. So should I put you down for both 'no appreciation for the French language' along with this curiosity?"

He smirks at Watson over his toast before he takes a bite.

[lightconductor]

Rolling his eyes, Watson shook his head a little. "Very well, you go right ahead and do that. There are worse character flaws to be saddled with, I believe. For example, 'refuses to translate himself' is, I think, a rather dire one."

His tone was lightly teasing.

[mustbethetruth]

"So it is." He grins back, leaning back in his seat for the moment. "We're so well matched even our flaws come in coordinating pairs."

With all this gentle teasing, breakfast is more than merely pleasant, and Holmes looks forward to passing the rest of the day in this manner.