TWO TURTLEDOVES
by Harper Kingsley
turtledove: a small Old World dove with a soft purring call, noted for the apparent affection shown for its mate
"What is this?" Warrick asked, holding up Vereint’s jacket. There was what looked like a scarf attached, but he’d noticed it was lined with a plastic bag.
"That? That’s my smoking bib." Vereint was flipping busily through the TV Guide. From his faint frown, there was nothing he wanted to see.
"’Smoking bib’?" Warrick asked. "I need more explanation."
Vereint’s sigh was audible. He slouched lower on the couch, knees spreading wide as he settled himself. He stared raptly at the TV as he spoke, "You know the stuff I get from Donovan’s is strong. I don’t exhale where the people will be effected. And I get to hotbox myself. I think it’s a sartorial win."
Warrick sighed and shook the jacket in his hand. "This jacket is so ugly. We’ll visit Florian’s and I’ll have him make you some better clothes. This is a terrible rag."
Vereint turned his head to look right at him. Their gazes met and held. "What if I said it’s my favorite?"
"Then I love it because I love you," Warrick replied. "It’s very ugly, but I’m sure you somehow make it work for you."
Vereint laughed and held his arms open. "Get over here."
Warrick dropped the jacket on a chair in passing and allowed himself to sink onto the couch. He nuzzled into the comfort of Vereint’s body. "You’re always so warm."
"Said the cryokinetic," Vereint laughed.
=END=
