How to survive the thunder

Chapter 03

The dream was intense and all too real.

"I don't feel well, babe, can we go home?" said Carlos looking at the plate of half-eaten meat in front of him.

He couldn't say he didn't like it. A good plate of meat was always welcome. But rare meat made him nauseous at the sight of blood and Donovan knew that because he had told him a million times. Carlos hated blood. It reminded him of work and he didn't like the idea of imagining someone hurting themselves.

He preferred fish all the time, but Donovan was the one who hated fish, so when they went out to dinner, they would go to a braseria, an Argentinean restaurant well known for meat, and certainly not a place to eat good fish.

Donovan would choose the dishes because he was sure to order what Carlos liked. He either still thought he liked the entraña and vacío rare or just didn't listen when Carlos told him they weren't his favorite dishes.

"Go? Now? You still have half the plate to eat and I sure as hell don't like to throw money away. You could have told me you weren't hungry and we would have stayed home. You might as well have made yourself a bowl of broth. I would have ordered something."

"Don, babe, it's not that. I love the dish, it's delicious, but there's a virus in the station, half the guys are down with gastroenteritis. They must have given it to me, for sure."

Donovan slammed his hands on the table, causing Carlos to wince and try to hide his face from the gaze of all the other diners at the other tables.

"That sounds like an excuse to me. Okay, come on, we're going home but don't expect me to take you out for dinner another day."

It didn't escape Carlos's notice that the people closest to him started to mutter at that "take him out to dinner" thing like he was a dog, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to upset his boyfriend any more.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom for a moment and as soon as he closed the stall door he threw up everything he had in his stomach. He didn't say anything to Donovan, the last thing he needed was to let him know that he had vomited what he had eaten up to that moment.

"Fuck, what a night you've given me," Donovan complained as soon as they entered the house. "For a night I have off and you get picky about food," he continued as he threw his keys on the table.

Carlos reached over to pick them up and put them back; if Donovan didn't find them when he went back out there was going to be trouble.

"I'm sorry, but before we left I told you I wasn't feeling well."

"Yeah, and you say that a lot lately. If you were a chick I'd think you got pregnant to trap me so I'd marry you." Donovan gave him a hard look, almost expecting him to say something, but Carlos kept silent. He watched as Donovan moved around the living room taking off his jacket, his shoes, and went about undressing. "If I had known, we wouldn't have gone out, you'd have made me dinner and we'd have watched one of those stupid TV shows you seem to love so much.. Sometimes you get so expensive for me."

"I'm sorry," Carlos said quietly, as he went about picking up everything his boyfriend left lying around. "I didn't mean to spoil your evening."

"Sometimes you spoil my whole life," Donovan said from the bathroom and Carlos stood petrified in the living room with his boyfriend's clothes in his hands. He pressed them against his body and stopped breathing. "And I wonder why I keep you around. It must be that you're too handsome and I can't stop looking at you." He poked his head out the bathroom door and just like that, smiled and winked at him. "You're too good in bed and at keeping this house tidy."

"I love you too."

"Hahahahaha, how little it takes for you to tell me that, sweetheart. Now I remember why I'm still with you."