Drake

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Blighty

I tried not to laugh as Drake sipped his beer for the umpteenth time in less than a minute. His eyes were wide, smacking his lips together in admiration.

"Now that. That is a beer."

"I'm glad you approve," I smiled, hugging my jacket to me, a chill still clinging to my body despite the sun streaming through the windows of the dusty old pub. The patrons were your regulars who I'd grown up around; old Mr Hislop who had always let me wash his car for five pounds every Saturday, was propping up the bar in his knitted waistcoat and a large pint of stout before him. He looked so much older since I'd last seen him, but I knew he had plenty of life left in him yet. Sarah Donald, an old friend of my mothers had only just finished drying her eyes after seeing me and Drake earlier.

"I love how you guys all know each other. Like one big happy family," Drake grinned, his eyes still on his cold pint.

"You're still staring at the beer," I pointed out, sipping on my half a pint. Drake chuckled softly, before shrugging.

"Its pretty damn good. Can't seem to stop staring at these English jewels now can I?" his eyes met mine and I felt a shiver run through me, my hand instantly reaching out for his.

"You flatter me."

"You are insane. Like, I just wanna marry your ass."

I rolled my eyes, and tried to ignore the way those words sounded on his lips.

Marry Drake?

"Mrs Anderson," I murmured, as he burst out laughing.

"Yeah that's the spirit babe! Speaking of spirits, shall we have some shots?" he mused, checking the contents of his beer carefully as I laughed.

"Its seven pm. You want another beer or shots?"

He yawned, nodding at the beer.

"Best go for a beer then, I feel like the jet lag is still killing me. I'm getting hungry too, are you?"

I nodded, before grabbing two menus and thrusting one into his hand.

"This place does some great dinners. Or, if you want, we can get fish and chips from the chippy on the walk back."

His eyes lit up as he dropped the menu, nodding with excitement.

"Chippy! Yes!"

The word sounded so foreign on his tongue I couldn't help but laugh.

"I love how excited you are."

He grinned as he watched me walk to the bar, his eyes on me the entire time.

I walked back with his pint, greeting more people who were just coming in for their night out.

"Honestly, this shit has hit me. I feel drunk already," slurred Drake as I snorted with laughter.

"Proper beer."

"So I think I might just prefer England. The beer, the women-"

"Plural?" I asked sweetly, kicking him swiftly on the shin as he held his hands up with mock defeat.

"No, just you baby. I swear. But the beer...man. I can't wait to go to London tomorrow, I can't believe we have been here a week already."

"I know. But we've done so much that we wanted to do. We've visited my parents graves," I swallowed as I said it, the words still causing me to fall silent. Drake laced his fingers with mine, lifting them to his lips.

"You're fucking incredible. You really are. I've got nothing but admiration for you," he murmured, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm as I smiled.

"You got love too, right?"

"Oh yeah, I've got a whole lot love for you. Trust me."

He sipped his beer, allowing me to continue.

"What did you think to Clare?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah, she was nice," he shrugged nonchalantly.

They'd met the day before, and it had been strangely awkward. Drake was the perfect gentleman, but Clare seemed a little off to me. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but I fully intended to see her before I left for London. We had been walking for miles today though, and my feet ached so bad. All I wanted to do was go back to the little cottage we were renting and sink into a hot bath.

I realised I felt ancient all of a sudden, and Drake gazed at me knowingly.

"You're thinking about something serious."

"I'm not!" I protested, his eyes narrowing at me playfully.

"Hmm. Alright, what were you thinking about?" he asked softly, my hand tingling from his touch.

"That I feel...oddly happy," he smiled widely then, and I rolled my eyes. "But also I feel old. I should be out showing you the clubs but instead all I'm dreaming about is a hot bath and an early night." I confessed sheepishly, dropping my gaze as my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"You know what I think, Miss Marshall?" he leaned in, making my heart beat harder with anticipation.

"What?" I breathed, suddenly longing to run my hands through his dark curls.

"That I'm pretty damn happy too. Your plan of a hot bath and the early night sounds perfect. If that makes us old, then fine. But we do not bypass the chippy. We go. To the chippy."

Our eyes locked then, as he drank the remainder of his pint quickly.

"But really, I've gotta confess before you get in that hot bath I might need to help you undress..."

I sighed happily, content that he was as sexual as he was. He was beautiful, inside and out, and I felt incredibly lucky to be with him. We spoke with our eyes, and I was reminded of a quote I'd read once.

His eyes held their own language, and I vowed to master it. For our souls were already familiar- the bodies just had to follow suit. - Linzvonc

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