Prompt 11. "Three days long?"
Ray’s feet hurt as he climbed the stairs to their fifth floor apartment. There were days that were hard to get through, in spite of his hard-learned appreciation for life. He liked his current job, but it held some of the trappings of the old one as a detective, and occasionally he wished with futility to find every hole every low-life was crawling out of and fill them up with cement. And Vancouver was a great city, but it wasn’t Chicago.
Ray slipped out of his coat and toed off his shoes. “Renny?” he called, with that slight twinge of worry that he got most days. He was proud as could be of Turnbull, but one doesn’t marry a cop without developing at least a slight propensity to fear the worst.
Turnbull was drying his hands on a towel, which shouldn’t have been sexy, but Turnbull’s hands were attached to his arms which were attached to his torso, which was covered in a well-fitted t-shirt, and which was a damn fine piece of artwork, as far as Ray was concerned.
Ray enthusiastically shoved Turnbull against the nearest wall and mouthed his neck, the one that was attached to his well-designed torso, and the one that smelled so good for some reason, good enough to get a hold of and leave a mark that clarified the same meaning held by the ring that Turnbull sported on his left hand.
“Mmm…” Ray finished with an appreciative lick, and then brightened more as he remembered a happy detail. “It’s a long weekend, isn’t it?”
“Yes Ray, three days.”
“Three days long?” Ray’s mood was suddenly brighter. “Got any good ideas of how we can spend it?”
“I do,” Turnbull’s voice took on a teasing quality. “But I was hoping to surprise you.”
“I’m good with that,” Ray switched his attention to Turnbull’s ear, “as long as it’s not snowshoeing or something like that.”
“Not unless that’s a new position,” Turnbull gently pushed him away. “But for now we’ll start with dinner.”
“I’m a fan of dinner,” Ray was pleased to note that his feet no longer hurt as he followed Turnbull to the kitchen.