if i die because you made me melt, oh well

this is why we can't have nice things, honey

Flora’s feet ache as she pads barefoot up to the house, her heels dangling carelessly from two fingers. The evening air wraps around her shoulders—still humid, still heavy, but cooler now, whispering promises of sleep as she reaches her doorstep. Despite the lingering buzz of alcohol in her veins, she feels strangely lucid, her chest a cocktail of emotions she can’t quite place. Sohalia had wandered off with Koa (to fuck, probably), Kaisel had disappeared with Caly (also to fuck, probably), and frankly, the Doubletake has no intention of thinking about either of for another second (but she will, obviously).

Tonight, at least, she wouldn’t be alone. Flora smirks to herself, grateful and relieved, picturing Danta sprawled out comfortably across her couch and Asta perhaps brewing tea, both of them already half-dozing and soft-eyed. She smiles warmly at the mental image, sliding her key into the lock with fumbling fingers and stepping inside.

She freezes instantly.

"WH—"

It takes her a second to process the scene unfolding in her living room. Danta reclines leisurely, legs draped across her favourite chair, cucumber slices balanced delicately on his horns, eyes, and cheeks like he’s a particularly extravagant salad. Asta sprawls beside him, equally adorned, every visible inch of their bodies slathered in some sort of luxurious face mask—creamy greenish paste contrasting ridiculously with scarred, sinewy muscle.

For a beat, Flora just stands there, mouth agape, keys still dangling from her fingertips. Then she breaks into a delighted, incredulous laugh, letting her shoes fall unceremoniously to the floor. "Excuse me?" she gasps, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest as though to hold in her heart before it tumbles right out of her ribs. "I thought you assholes were tired." Her grin splits wider as she steps further inside, hands planting playfully on her hips as she surveys the tableau. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

"Floraaaaaa!" Danta trills the second her laughter hits the air, throwing an arm up to wave an extravagant hello. The other is holding a cocktail glass rimmed with rocksalt and filled from a large jug on her coffee table. "Come in - we made margaritas!"

Listen, between sidling up to the Doubletake to let her know they were going to head out early and would be waiting for her at home, to realising he'd never asked where her spare key actually lived, by the time Danta had quietly, tipsily and successfully picked her lock, he'd informed Asta that he was no longer quite as tired as he first thought.

One shower later - and after being informed that apparently he wasn't allowed in Flora's bedroom without her present (something something manners, boring) the Maverick had donned the scandalously short silk and lace robe on the back of the bathroom door, wrapped his wet hair in a towel, and commited to the bit. He'd managed to find the luxurious facemask in a drawer, and the cucumber and margarita ingredients had been pilfered from the kitchen.

The rest, as they say, is what the fuck history.

"Not at all!" Danta continues, picking the cucumber slices off his eyes and cheeks - and eating them - before rolling to his feet, offering out her chair as if he'd just been keeping it warm for her. "Sit down, it's time for the afterparty."

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //

// day breaks sorrow //

It had been quite the adventure getting into the house. And quite nostalgic. Because it wasn’t the first time Asta had stood watch while someone broke into something, but it was the first time with Danta picking a lock that the butcher stood there easily, keeping an eye out just in case anyone wondered what they were doing breaking into Flora’s home.

They’d been invited, of course. So the lack of manners certainly can’t start now, especially as he tells Danta at least three times that he could not go into her room without her being present, going so far as to effectively ban him (with the lack of power to actually enact anything), but luckily his lover had listened.

And since then? Comfortable and surprisingly awake, lounging with the margarita cradled delicately, Flora’s laugh and Danta’s trill has him sitting up — the cucumbers falling from his eyes onto his scarred chest, tinted green with the face mask he was fairly certain shouldn’t go anywhere but ones face, but deciding fuck it anyway.

Cucumber slices are still notched into his horns as he swings his head her way, his waistcoat open and draped easily off to the side as he shifts into a better sitting position for Flora to step in when Danta essentially herds her over to them. “We were simply keeping busy until you arrived.” Flashing her a brighter smile, Asta’s tail curls contently at his heels, beckoning her closer and offering his margarita for her should she wish to have a bit more to start this afterparty.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

this is why we can't have nice things, honey

Flora laughs again, shaking her head in sheer disbelief as she takes in the chaos—the cucumber slices still clinging bravely to Asta’s horns, the silk robe scandalously short against Danta’s thighs, the utter devastation of her very best face mask now plastered all over their absurdly handsome faces.

She sweeps toward the pair, all glitter and curls and sweet relief, and drops easily into the chair Danta vacates. "Oh, I see," she drawls, arching a delicate brow at Asta, taking the margarita from him with a grateful little hum. "You were keeping busy."

She crosses one leg over the other, leaning back luxuriously, and raises the glass in a toast to them both. The rim of her drink is salty and sharp against her tongue, the cool tang of lime and tequila instantly soothing whatever complicated mess the night had left curled up in her chest. "Well," she purrs, giving Danta a pointed look as she eyes the scandalously short robe draped over his lithe frame, "I suppose I'll just have to go find something else comfortable to slip into, since you've clearly staked your claim."

She rises from the chair with an exaggerated sigh, hips swaying as she heads toward her bedroom, pausing only briefly to shoot a wink back at them both. "Don't go anywhere." Disappearing into her room, Flora re-emerges shortly after, silk sliding effortlessly against her skin. She’s chosen something deliberately indulgent—a sheer babydoll slip that clings just enough to tease, delicate lace tracing the curves of her chest and hips, the thin straps threatening to slide off her shoulders with every confident step.

"Alright," she announces breezily, sweeping back into the living room with bare feet and a lazy smile, reclaiming her margarita and sinking back down with casual elegance. "Now, hand me that face mask. I'm not about to let you two have all the fun. I have wrinkles too you know."

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

"I have been told it is in my best interests to keep busy," Danta says with a winning smile, as if that's all the justification needed for their actions leading up to now. Patting the seat for her to sit down and taking a sip of his own margarita, he offers the drink down to Asta since he's very gallantly given his own away to Flora.

"Oh, this old thing?" he crows as she makes a note of the silk robe he's stolen, smoothing it down. "It was the only thing I could grab that went with the towel." Gesturing to his hair wrap, it's only at that moment that he seems to remember that it's there, reaching up to tug it off and shake out his damp curls.

By that time, of course, Flora has rolled to her feet to make a beeline for her bedroom, prompting Danta to glance incredulously to Asta, as if to ask why she is allowed in the forbidden space. By the time the Doubletake returns, however, his ruffled feathers have been smoothed down somewhat, and he's absently stealing a cucumber slice from one of the butcher's horns to munch on.

"Having seen every part of you there is to see tonight, I didn't see a single wrinkle," he protests, before plopping down to sit cross-legged in front of her chair, trusting Asta more with the facemask element of all of this. Instead, he reaches out to grab for her ankle, as if to pull her foot into his lap and his waiting hands. "Give," he demands. "Heels are a bitch."

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //

// day breaks sorrow //

It was in Danta’s best interests to stay busy, because if he didn’t, it would be guaranteed to be trouble afoot. But as Danta offers his margarita for the butcher, he takes it lightly, taking a pleased little sip from it before handing it back, letting his dark gaze flicker back toward Flora as she settles in - momentarily, his gaze flitting back to Danta in the short silk robe that leaves very little to the imagination (not that anyone in this room hadn’t just seen what each other has to offer).

The look shot his way sparks a low chuckle from Asta as he tilts his head toward his lover with a raised brow. “It is her room, darling.” He informs him, like it was common sense. It’s in that time that the butcher snags the rest of the cucumbers from the sharp tines of his horns, offering the rest for Danta to devour while Flora gets more comfortable.

She returns swiftly and Asta’s gaze flits toward her with a glimmer of appreciation of the slip she wears, shifting to stand so that he might snag the face mask, his sentiment is much the same as Danta’s as he steps to the side of her chair, lowering himself so that he might tip her chin up and apply it delicately and meticulously. “I doubt that, though perhaps that means this is working, no?” Shaking the jar of face mask, the butcher flashes her a wink before he continues to apply it to her face, and when he’s satisfied, he sits back and caps the jar.

“Better, darling?” He asks with an almost confident hum, leaning back from where he’s perched himself on the edge of the chair beside Flora to snag Danta’s margarita for another sip.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

this is why we can't have nice things, honey

Flora lets out a long, indulgent moan as Danta’s fingers curl around her ankle, willingly relinquishing her foot into his waiting lap with an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Gods, yes," she murmurs, settling back into her chair as though it’s a throne she’s reclaimed.

Her chin tips obediently upward beneath the gentle coaxing of Asta’s fingertips, eyes fluttering closed as the cool, silky texture of the face mask sweeps carefully across her skin. "Mm, right," she purrs, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Because I'm sure the texture of my skin was what you were most focused on earlier."

She stays still, luxuriating under Asta's meticulous attention until he's satisfied, only peeking one eye open once the mask is fully applied. Her expression turns sly, blue eyes glittering with mischief as she sweeps her gaze appreciatively between both Ancients. "Would it be terrible," she asks sweetly, voice dripping with honey and trouble, "to say this feels almost as good as what we were up to before?" Her smile deepens into something decidedly feline, utterly shameless.

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

"Not the texture of your skin, exactly." Danta grins, even as his fingers press indulgently into the arch and ball of her foot, stretching out her toes and kneading away tension as if it was something he was born to do. (One doesn't own a brothel without getting first-hand experience in the multitudes of ways to give pleasure, after all). "I can confirm that your lips were wonderful, though." On his mouth and around his cock.

Letting Asta apply the facemask and share his drink, he quips a warning for the butcher not to lick his finger once he's finished applying it, his tone of voice suggesting that he might just be speaking from experience on the matter. "Hmm? It wouldn't be terrible at all," he says with a crooked smile, tilting his head at her. "You're still sandwiched between us and getting all the pleasure in the world, but this time you don't have to lift a finger," he points out. "What's not to like?"

Anyway.

"How was the rest of the party?" he asks, clearly wanting all of the gossip.

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //

// day breaks sorrow //

“I can be quite attentive when I wish to be.” And when he isn’t battling with the casual desire of throwing everything out the window in favor for truly sampling. But he leaves that part out, flashing a sharp smile all the same and capturing Danta’s silent warning. Content to leave it as is, the butcher rises to snag Danta’s discarded hair towel, wiping off his hands before his attention returns to the two of them, as Flora offers her shameless answer and Danta supplements it with his own.

And honestly? “I certainly share the sentiments, much to Danta’s displeasure.” He teases softly with a raise of his brow, though there’s honesty in the words. The fact was that despite how much teasing Asta often did to Danta, the amount of times he indulged was not nearly the amount he’d rile the Maverick up.

Either way, he sips from the margarita again before offering it to Danta, resting his hand on his lover’s shoulder and offering his own gentle little massage as his attention returns to Flora, absolutely wishing to hear all of everything that had occurred when he’d been too busy flying too close to the sun. "Yes, do tell."

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

this is why we can't have nice things, honey

Flora’s lashes flutter, and she gives Asta a look laced with teasing reproach. "If you were only focused on the texture of my skin earlier, Asta, I might actually be offended." The laugh that follows is a sultry ripple, her lips curving as she leans into the press of his touch and the warmth of Danta’s skilled hands. "Then again, that does sound exactly like the sort of thing you'd have noticed."

The moan that leaves her next is scandalously familiar, drawn from somewhere low and indulgent as Danta works the tension from her foot. It ends in a sigh as she tilts her head, claiming a sip of her margarita with an air of lazy royalty, her eyes glittering behind the cooling face mask. "Mm...let me think," she murmurs, wrinkling one eye in mock concentration. "Sohalia finally worked up the courage not just to talk to Koa, but to do a body shot off of him. And apparently, that was all it took to make him suddenly very sure about his feelings, because the next thing I know they’re vanishing into one of the back rooms together."

She pauses, her expression caught between amusement and exasperation. "Then Vesper grabbed Mateo and presumably dragged him off to get railed, which.." she gestures vaguely with her drink, indicating have at it. "And then Kaisel and Caly fucked off somewhere, a broom closet I bet given how many rooms were already occupied by that point."

She swirls her drink slowly, shoulders rising and falling in a careless shrug. "I shut things down before we ran out of liquor—what with all our bartenders apparently otherwise engaged. Oh!" Her brow furrows slightly in playful confusion. "And I think I saw Maea and Hadama having a drinking contest? But that seems super unlike them both so. Maybe it was water and they were seeing who could hydrate the fastest."

With a final sip, she sighs and sinks back into the chair like a queen at the end of her reign, casting her companions a contented smile. "So, you know, about what you'd expect."

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

Humming a note of gratitude and accepting the margarita to take a sip from it, Danta soon returns his attention to Flora's poor abused feet, setting one down before getting to work on the other. Just in time to enjoy some affectionate touches to his shoulders, as it happens, and for the Doubletake to regale them with the thoroughly messy details of her last night at The Hanged Man.

Snorting and glancing back at Asta, it all sounds sloppy as fuck which, had it not been for their own escapades earlier in the evening, he'd have been all over. "You know it's one helluva party when it sounds more like an average night at the Dusklight," he remarks, turning his head to press a brief kiss to Asta's wrist before turning back to Flora.

"Maea, though? A drinking contest? You'll forgive me but I really will have to believe that when I see it." Scoffing, he returns to the indulgent press of his fingers into the arch of Flora's foot. "Much as I enjoy you giving me a shoulder rub while I do this," he quips to the butcher with a grin, "I can't help but notice no one is giving you a massage."

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //

// day breaks sorrow //

“Before I sunk my teeth in, darling.” Asta offers the clarification playfully, a small smirk blooming on the corner of his lips — because he hadn’t gotten his teeth into anyone but himself, which was honestly the best outcome. Either way, though, his amusement remains in the crease of the facemask where his smile cuts through it.

Silent but very attentive to the sound that slips from Flora’s lips as she recalls what occurred, Asta can finally put faces to names, head tilting as he idly gives Danta’s shoulders a gentle rub for all the work he does for Flora’s own. “Ew.” Asta’s nose wrinkles in his disapproval, effectively wrinkling the facemask in the process and leaving little olive tiger striping between the green as he focuses on Flora again. “Perhaps she was trying to feel better about being in the same room as me.” He suggests with a slight shrug, huffing a little sound where it’s hard to tell if he’s pleased with the thought or simply tired.

Looking back down to Danta, Asta’s brow lifts and he snorts, flashing his lover a smile. “You are currently occupied, and darling Flora here has already had one hell of a night.” His honey gaze flits to Flora in adoration, before he looks back to Danta. “Rest assured, Danta, I fully intend to make you work at a later time.” His accented voice takes on a sing-song tone, one playful but promising as the sass leaves his lips, curving into a playful smirk after.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

this is why we can't have nice things, honey

Flora’s eyes go wide and earnest as she nods at Danta’s disbelief. "I know. I thought I was hallucinating," she says with mock solemnity, before glancing over to Asta with a smirk that twists into a wrinkled-nose wince. "She probably is jealous. Or, like, repressing aggressively. Which…fair. If I was in the same room as you and you didn't want to talk to me, I'd hate it too."

Still, she lifts her chin with a little queenly pride as the conversation circles back to the night’s chaos. "Honestly, I think it went great," she says, clearly pleased. "Drama, debauchery, dehydration—classic party metrics." Her grin dims a little, just around the edges, as she exhales and adds, "Jack didn’t show, though. Maybe I was stupid for thinking he would, but..." She shrugs, lashes fluttering in a half-hearted attempt to make it seem like it didn’t sting. "I guess I just thought he would."

And then, as Danta points out the one-body gap in their little luxury chain, Flora gasps—offended by her own oversight. [say"'I’ve been wildly rude," she agrees with a dramatic flutter of her hands, immediately setting her drink aside and rising up just enough to gesture for Asta to come closer. "Take that off," she purrs, tugging at the edge of his waistcoat, "and turn a bit more. I want to see if I can give you the shivers." Probably not given the scars on his back, but a girl could try, right?

She arches a brow at the deep promise in his voice when he teases Danta, then tips her head toward the both of them with an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, you two. You can work anywhere you want except my twin’s bed. But if you try anything in mine," she adds, flashing her teeth in something wicked and warm, "you’d better include me. The rest of the house is fair game, though."

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

"Oh I'm sure Asta would have continued to speak with her if she'd pressed the issue," Danta says with a half-smile, his hands moving from Flora's feet to press firm strokes up the length of her calves. "He just wouldn't have had anything civil to say." He almost remarks that the butcher had opted to get wasted and have a threesome to feel better about sharing a room with Maea, but this is a safe space, so he wisely keeps his lips sealed on that matter.

As for Jack, the Maverick scoffs and shakes his head. "He was probably peeping through the windows at you when you weren't looking," he tells her, fully committed to the fuck that guy aspect of their evening. "Wondering how to make an entrance or what to say to fuck you off. But you were always too occupied for him to make his move, so he just slunk off into the dark."

Feeling very pleased with himself at the narrative he's painted - and gracefully shifting with Flora as she adjusts to make a circle jerk trio of massages, Danta can't help but let out a cackle in response to the Doubletake's groan. "I take that sort of permission very seriously, you know," he purrs. "Alas, I think Asta is already tiptoeing a fine line tonight. But don't worry - he can always just sit and watch." He winks.

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //