Dinner dates
Mar. 16th, 2014 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yourprivilegeWhen John suggested dinner with the Tellers, Mary had been quick to agree. It was these simple things, things they did as a couple that made her feel as if there wasn't so much time between them, and that they weren't coming into their current relationship from two opposite ends. Of course, dinner had been postponed and rescheduled for a variety of reasons, and tonight, finally, it was happening.
Her stomach had been bothering her all week, indigestion that had only gotten worse in the past twenty four hours. When John suggested that they put off the night again, Mary had refused point blank. She was due in a little less than a week, and if they didn't do this now, they wouldn't be able to until after the baby. She wanted one more night with the two of them, before their life revolved around their daughter. Indigestion could be dealt with, Mary knew that she'd dealt with worse.
"Maybe just a sip of your wine," she whispers to him as they step up to the Teller's door. "Or a sniff? It can't hurt if I have a sniff, can it?"
He has a bag with a salad and a lemon torte inside that she'd bought rather than made. Mary squeezes John's hand as he knocks, happy in a way that she can't explain, not without explaining so much else.
Her stomach had been bothering her all week, indigestion that had only gotten worse in the past twenty four hours. When John suggested that they put off the night again, Mary had refused point blank. She was due in a little less than a week, and if they didn't do this now, they wouldn't be able to until after the baby. She wanted one more night with the two of them, before their life revolved around their daughter. Indigestion could be dealt with, Mary knew that she'd dealt with worse.
"Maybe just a sip of your wine," she whispers to him as they step up to the Teller's door. "Or a sniff? It can't hurt if I have a sniff, can it?"
He has a bag with a salad and a lemon torte inside that she'd bought rather than made. Mary squeezes John's hand as he knocks, happy in a way that she can't explain, not without explaining so much else.
