Opening the refrigerator door, Zebediah contemplated the bottom shelf for a moment before reaching back and grabbing a beer.
Wincing, the shop owner slowly stood up, stretching and cracking his back before looking over to see Allen in the doorway. The doctor was wrapped up in his housecoat, pajama bottoms pooling over pale feet; dark curls fell over his forehead haphazardly, and Zebediah wanted to reach out and fix them.
He held himself still, waiting for Allen to say something. Instead the older man walked into the kitchen, took the beer from Zebediah’s hand and set it on the counter. Taking both of Zebediah’s hands in his own, he pressed a kiss to each set of knuckles, thumbs idly tracing old, worn scars that almost blended into his gunman’s callused hands.
“C-come up to the o-o-office with me, w-would you?”
Gaze shifting from doctor to bottle, Zebediah nodded and followed after the slighter man. When they reached the office, being sure to keep quiet for Ellie’s sake, Allen pushed Zebediah to his office chair and went to the hutch located to the side. Zebediah sat down slowly in the leather seat, watching Allen’s back as he searched for something, before the doctor turned around and walked over to his lover and partner. Setting down two wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir – it was that time of year, after all – the good doctor curled up on Zebediah’s lap.
Zebediah immediately wrapped an arm around Allen’s waist to support him, watching as he uncorked the bottle with a corkscrew, pouring a glassful of wine for the both of them. Taking the glass when the British man offered it to him, the American continued to look confused. Allen took a quiet sip of his wine before he spoke.
“If y-you’re going to d-d-drink… it m-might as w-w-well be s-something warm a-and s-satisfying. A-and you m-m-might as well have c-company. D-don’t you agree?”
Contemplating Allen for a very long moment, Zebediah pressed a kiss to the doctor’s shoulder before taking a swallow from his glass.