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Summary
“You don't think I'd be a good wife,” March barked out, and okay, his words were getting a little soupy, now. Still, he had made it far enough, hadn't he?
“We can talk in the car- c'mon,” Healy nudged him towards the door with his elbow, and March grumbled, wrapping his legs tighter around the stool. The bartender watched from the shadows, and March could see the light flicker from the whites of those greedy eyes, damn it.
“Not until you say I'd be a good wife.”
Healy's back was towards him, and then it wasn't. “I'm not saying that, March.”
Series
- Part 4 of the nice gays
