Chapter 28: Passions Boil Over

“How do I know it's ready?” Elric called over his shoulder, staring warily down into the pot bubbling before him.
“When it begins to boil,” Saffron replied, stoking the fire.
“Yes, but what does that really mean? There are bubbles,” he replied.
“Are there a lot of bubbles?” she replied, amused. He frowned down into the pot.
“I believe that is more a point of view. I could say there are many and you say there are not enough,” he retorted. She sighed and looked around him.
“Give it another minute and then it should be ready,” she said with a smirk and went to the bed.
“I told you,” he muttered under his breath and gave the pot a stir. With a smile, she shook her head. He had kept insisting on helping her, but he was still not quite ready for strenuous chores, so she was teaching him to cook. He was a miserable student and so far, had burned everything. She found it humorous but he did not. In the slightest.
She picked up one of his shirts and began darning the torn sleeve. She glanced over at him while he stood at the stove, leaning against the makeshift crutch she had found for him. He had lost weight since she had first met him, but his shoulders were still broad and stretched against the worn shirt. Her thoughts had been flitting to more nefarious deeds as of late.
The first few nights in the cottage, he had primarily been her patient. But now that he was up and moving, her mind was moving to other things. No longer did she look at his chest with a Mender’s eye. Instead, she gazed upon him with a woman’s. Her eyes would linger on the flat plane of his stomach where the band of his pants laid.
Her body burned nightly with every touch as he pressed against her in his sleep. She hadn’t been sleeping well, consumed by thoughts that were not fit for a Mender towards an injured patient. He is still healing, she chided herself and brought her thoughts back to the room. Elric was looking over at her, a slight smirk on his face as if he could read her thoughts. Her faced heated.
“Did you say something?” she asked, clearing her throat. He chuckled at her.
“You were lost there for a moment. Yes, I think I have managed to not scald it for once,” he replied, his eyes searching her face. “Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”
“Fine. I’m fine. Just warm from being near the fire,” she stammered and turned to put her sewing back down and to hide the furious blush on her face.
“Well come sit at the table.” He said and began scooping the rabbit stew into the bowls.
She helped carry them while he hobbled behind her. She looked dubiously down at the broth in front of her. “I did not burn it. At least I don’t believe I did,” Elric said, giving her a look.
She brought the spoon to her lips and surreptitiously sniffed it. It smelled…fine. She took a tentative sip. It tasted bland but not burnt, so she was happy. She took a larger spoonful the second time, Elric’s eyes on her.
“I told you,” he replied moodily and took his own spoonful of the stew. He chewed the rabbit with a contemplative look on his face. “A bit bland, isn’t it?” he said, and she laughed aloud at the look on his face.
“I don’t see what is so funny about this! I’ve never cooked a day in my life until now!” his indignation only made her laugh harder. She pushed her bowl away as laughs wracked her body.
“Yes, laugh at the prince who cannot cook. Did you forget I am mortally wounded?” he retorted, fighting back his own smile as he watched tears leak from her eyes. She mopped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve as he mock scowled across the table.
“Oh, yes. It has completely slipped my mind that your wee scratches are still bothering you,” she quipped, pulling her bowl back towards her.
“Wee scratches? Wee scratches!” he yelled and stood, hobbling over to her side of the table. He lifted his shirt and gestured towards the large gash on his side. It was still raw and angry around the bandage.
“It won’t heal because you won't sit still,” she replied coolly and stood eyeing him. He furrowed his brow at her.
“And let you do everything here? What kind of man would that make me?” he replied.
“A prince?” she retorted. He gave her a dark look despite a small smile twisting his lips.
“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, do you know that?” he replied, his hands falling to her waist.
“I’ve been told,” she replied and pressed her lips to his. There was something different in the way she kissed him this time. There was a hunger in her kiss; a desperation. A jolt of surprise went through Elric as she pressed herself harder against him.
“Mind the wounds,” he murmured with a smile.
“I’ll just mend them after,” she whispered and pulled him roughly to her. He pulled away slightly and looked down at her, his eyebrows raised.
“After? After what, might I ask?” he replied.
“After,” she said and led him to the bed.