Title: The Treatment
Word Count 341
“What is that disgusting drench?”
Archie could not ask right away, he had to wait for his face to untwist first. He swallowed again, and shuddered.
“It's not a drench-- It is only 4 ounces.”
“Whatever, it is ghastly. Foul.”
“Tincture of opium, mixed with some herbs to promote healing. The surgeon believes that the astringent properties in the...”
Horatio's words trailed away. Archie, even reclining, and injured could look very fearsome.
“Taste it yourself.”
Archie was implacable.
“There isn't any left. I-- oh!"
It was not a lengthy or especially enjoyable kiss.
“Damn, Archie I'm sorry. That is really--”
Horatio's voice was muffled he had turned away to burrow in his sea-chest.
“Here. This might-- I don's have a spoon but you could--” He made a scooping gesture with his fingers.
“It is Mary's jelly. She makes it with quinces and honey. She always gave it to me when I was sick, to take the bad taste away.
“There that is better...”
It was, it was much better.
“You know, Horatio, that nasty stuff gave me dreams..”
“Bad dreams?” Horatio's brows contracted, he knew Archie's dreams of old.
“No-- slow dreams, nice dreams. All fuzzy and warm and – like this.”
Archie let his good arm pull Horatio close, let it find skin and skim the heat of it. His hand was slow and warm all down Horatio's back, to the laces of his trousers.
“I dreamed it like this.” The hand had the laces undone, now. Archie was very good with knots.
These kisses were better, quinces and honey and coffee from Horatio's last watch.
“Your fingers are all sticky.” Horatio said it rather faintly.
“Hmm, I suppose--” Two tongues then, with the fingers between. Archie's palm was small and wide, and tasted of sleep. Horatio dropped lower to clean it, and the fingers, still sticky, found better things to do.