southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

As expected, each and every point that Asta thinks might be a good lead up to actually asking the Maverick for his hand has been interrupted one way or another. It isn’t a big deal to him, really, given that they’re on vacation, but Asta has wanted to ensure that they were alone without prying eyes for something so special as this.

Such that, today he’s planned a divine dinner in one of the nicest spots of Torchline – later in the evening where they can snag a table up high in the city and watch the sunset, presumably post ask. For now, however, he’s in their room, having spent the last few minutes dressing up far nicer than he has all vacation. It’s still absolutely vacation wear for the butcher – toned down, but not without its golden accents.

Chains dangle from his antlers, a long sleeve silken shirt with gold threads weaved throughout it. The sleeves are rolled up, tucked into a pair of black pants and a nice worn leather belt. “Danta, darling, what about something like… this?” He asks, emerging from edge of their room in the Wildering House into a stream of sunlight, making his antlers flare to the rainbow hue of the fire obsidian color as he stills in it, holding up a rust red shirt – nicer than what Danta typically wears, but acid washed in a way that makes it scream the Maverick. Paired with it is an older necklace he’d given to Danta before that he’d snuck into their bags. It’s a beautiful golden chain that gleams in the sunlight, bone fragments dangling from various portions of the draping necklace.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Completely oblivious despite the level of preparation Asta is likely to have committed for something as big as this moment, Danta is quite happily fucking about in their room when the butcher emerges. He's changed his pants a number of times while the other man has been making his selection, finally settling on something loose and linen but without a wrinkle in sight, which is why he's flaked out horizontally on their bed so as to not move and ruin it.

"Mmmm?" Tipping his head back off the edge of the bed mid-braid, he catches sight of the shirt - and the man holding it, haloed by the sun in all his glory - from a rather upside down perspective. "Oh, very nice. Did you smuggle that away with us?" he wonders, finishing the braid and rolling at last to stand and accept the shirt.

"I sense the answer is yes, given that we're wearing actual clothes on vacation," he adds with a smirk, shrugging easily into the shirt and buttoning it a good halfway up at least, but no further; how else is he meant to show off the glitter of bone and gold? "Would you be a dear and get the clasp?" he purrs, turning and lifting his hair out of the way so Asta can fiddle about with it.

"Remember the last time we ended up out on the town in Torchline and you pushed me in the healing fountain? Let's not do that again?"

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Asta doesn’t approach closer, content to let Danta come to him so that he can stay in the glittering light – because it would be much more apparent why when the ring comes out how they’ll need the light for it. It’s made out of the same gemstone his antlers are, after all. Black in any other light except for the blinding brightness of the sun and the occasional bonfire. For now, though, he’s content pretending nothing is different even if he starts to feel a strange sensation of anxiety sinking into his gut.

Why? He has no idea. “I did, among other things.” He dangles the thread a little, and with Danta’s complaint of real clothes, Asta can’t help the scoffed laugh that leaves him – the ashen tip of his tail flicking back and forth in quiet amusement, not unlike a dog that’s receiving attention despite trying to play it cool. “It is not that bad, darling. I am positive you will appreciate the dinner.” He drawls, his hands warm as they take the necklace from him to clasp it once Danta’s gotten his golden hair out of the way.

The clasp goes together smoothly and the butcher’s hands smooth out gently along his lover’s shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to his ear. “I do recall that. And I will even admit I may have gotten a touch carried away at the time.” He presses another kiss there for a quiet just for Danta apology before he’s trying to turn him back around to face him. “But there are no plans to try and drown you this night, I promise.” At least not with water. Love, might be another thing.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Mmhm," Danta drawls, rolling his eyes affectionately and stilling so that Asta can fiddle with the clasp of his necklace. As the butcher's calloused hands smooth across his shoulders, the Maverick spends a little time ensuring that his shirt falls right and that his jewellery is sitting the way he wants it to, before he seems content with his outfit. "Oho, you'll admit to that, will you?" Letting out a rich laugh that tapers off with the press of warm lips to his ear, Danta turns willingly with the butcher's coaxing, a smile still playing across his face.

"I'll remember that," he informs him. "And I'd hope you wouldn't tonight, especially since you've gone through the trouble of dressing me up all nice." It's his turn now to take the butcher in, the light setting the golden threads of his shirt aglow like tiny veins of fire. And call it the crow in his nature, but his fingers are drawn to them quite without his permission, Danta's smile softening as he lets his hands wander.

"You are looking quite delicious yourself," he adds, straightening Asta's collar needlessly and brushing an affectionate thumb across his cheek. "I promise to be careful when I take it all off again later."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

“I will and did.” Asta hums boldly, letting Danta’s rich laughter warm him and bolster that warmth into the recesses of his heart that his nerves have tried to get a foothold in. When Danta turns around, Asta’s smile is sharp but perhaps one of the softest ones it’s been lately, charmed and equally as warm as the light also brightens the dark honey brown of his gaze into brighter, sharper pools of molten gold.

He straightens a bit, taking in the light that plays with Danta’s hair and brightens his eyes even more, beautiful and vibrant. “Exactly, my wasp.” He hums, as if the whole reason he wouldn’t be drowning Danta is because of the finery of his outfit. It isn’t, for the record. But Danta doesn’t know that just yet.

Preening, however, under Danta’s warm wandering hands and the compliment, his smile twists a bit playfully as he tilts his head, the golden chains glinting with the movement. “Mm, well, you do not have to be too careful. It is a celebration, after all.” And he wouldn’t complain when he’s positive these pieces could be fixed by his favorite tailor back home if anything terrible happened to them.

But it’s this holding pattern that has the butcher breaking, not thinking of a better moment that might fall into place. Not where he has him precisely where he wants him, the two of them illuminated in half light and half shadow, the perfect combination of the both of them, he thinks. “Now why is it a celebration, you may be wondering?” He teases, his tail still wagging a touch, though it slows in its earlier excitement. “Because I have thought about today for a while now. I have thought about how you are the only one that could ever understand me, who has not shied from the challenge that I often bring. You are bold, smart, resilient, and strong and absolutely everything else that I am not and it is only a few of the ways in how much I love you, Dantalion.” The full name drop feels necessary here, and paired with the vibrant way his shark-toothed smile grows, the butcher’s hands smooth down Danta’s arm, one pausing to cover the crescent shape of the bite scar he’d given him just before he’d finished the quest for the crow charm on his own wrist. “I will forever be grateful for this second chance and to spend it with you, without the hierarchy and lies of the Climb weighing on our necks. I am so deeply glad that you decided to wake me from my stone prison before we had a chance to know the real us and what that became. So thank you, my love, for granting me everything a man like me could ever want in this life.” He’s gotten wordsy, he knows it, and his smile twists a touch apologetic as he keeps them both anchored there in the sunlight.

He lowers himself to one knee, pulling a carved bone box out of his pocket with etchings made on the lid. A crow with its wings spread taking flight in its own freedom, the deer beneath it on a knoll that seems to look up at said crow. “So, my wasp, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Anyone that knows the butcher knows he does not prefer to be shorter than anyone else, but for this he concedes – peering up at the Maverick with hope glinting in the gold of his sunlit gaze, the box popping open to reveal a golden ring within, adorned in fire obsidian gemstones to match the butcher’s horns that mirror the way his own antlers glint in this moment.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Caught by the warmth in honey dark eyes and the softness in a smile usually sharp enough to carve through flesh, Danta is happy to linger in this sun dappled moment; it feels quiet and right in a way that so few moments do, and he's keen not to waste it. He does catch on the word celebration, though, chin lifting a touch deviously, lips parting to form the very question Asta soon poses himself, the Maverick tilting a smile his way as if begging him to elaborate further.

Elaborate he does.

And however thick-skulled Danta might be - and he certainly can be that way, especially in moments like this - something crackling and vibrant shoots through him as he hears the butcher out, some innate recognition of the sort of speech this is and the sort of thing it leads onto. "Asta," he tries, feeling his cheeks flush with heat that could rival any sunburn, especially as his full name purrs from the other man's lips.

Glancing fleetingly down to where warm hands skim across the silvery scar on his forearm, his breath catches on whatever he wants to say next, whatever denial of all the things Asta seems to think he is that burn on his tongue. Feeling his heart start to hammer in his throat, the butcher lowers himself to one knee and Danta feels the most absurd urge to corral him back up, to tell him that he doesn't belong there.

He barely sees the bone box, gorgeously carved and intricately, lovingly detailed though it might be, hearing only the softly vulnerable question that hangs in the air between them and the deafening beats of silence that follow in its wake.

He's supposed to answer. Gods, he's supposed to say something, but suddenly his mouth feels stuffed with cotton. And for a traitorous moment the old anxiety rears its ugly head, peeking out from a space between heartbeats where Danta wants to flee, to cloak himself in violence and decadence and humour to deflect from the truth of it. That truth being, of course, that Asta has carved his way inexorably into his heart, and the scars of him are things Danta will carry forever. Wants to carry forever.

On a shaky exhale, he finds himself flinching into motion, trying and failing to stifle the smile creeping across his face. "Get up," he says, voice tight and rough with emotion. "For gods' sake, get up here - of course I'll fucking marry you."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He can see the flush that spreads across Danta’s face as he continues to speak, and while he thinks it should probably force him to be more concise while he speaks, he doesn’t find it in him. If there was a time to actually get all of this out, it’s now. Especially when they’ve been so open with one another, in the hopes that what happened in the Sparkbird’s Nest won’t happen here, that he won’t push too far and make him run from it.

The silence, however, is deafening and it does have a shift of wariness blossom in his gut, his tail with its small wags slowing to a stop in quiet apprehension that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten this all wrong. His smile doesn’t falter, though, remaining with that faux confidence that seems to feel like it’s leaking from his limbs.

It’s the shaky exhale, the stifled smile that really breaks him out of it, though. There’s no immediate yes that leaves his lover’s lips. There’s just the quiet command to get up, to stand, before the yes comes and it’s that which has the butcher rising with the box in his hand clasped so he doesn’t drop it, to wrap an arm around Danta’s middle to pull him close once he’s back to his full height. “Thank gods.” The butcher says on an almost shy and awkward laugh – evidence enough that the butcher has never once been on the backfoot but felt pretty confident he was with this ask.

His own skin flushes a touch with the relief, his cheeks and nose reddening as he noses his way in for a kiss to cement the yes to memory even more, his tail wagging in pure and entire delight.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Twining his arms around the butcher as soon as he's in reach, Danta will remember the ring in Asta's hands eventually, he's sure, but for now it's the man holding it he's more interested in. Tilting his head up to catch his lips, he kisses him deeply and without a thought for breath or propriety or anyone who might catch sight of them through the window. He kisses him until his lungs burn and stars begin to dance behind his vision, and even as he's forced to part he leans in to rest his forehead against the other man's.

"I didn't even know what love was before you," he pants, like he needs to get the words out before he loses them entirely. "Fuck, even when I did know I ran from it so hard I nearly lost it again." He can see it plain behind his eyes: their bloody feuds in those early days in The Climb, the reluctant alliance struck centuries later, the strange friendship that bloomed into something searing and untamed between the sheets before smouldering into something no less hot, but infinitely more precious.

"I'm never going to lose that again," he says, sealing the sentiment with another kiss that Asta will have to be responsible for drawing away from. The butcher has seen him at his brightest and at his lowest, has held him through nightmares and indulged the chaos in him borne of trauma, has been responsible for his scars and for kissing them better. "Thank you, for the record. For being my second chance as well."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

It’s a kiss that prolongs out far until Asta’s also panting when they withdraw – the stars that glint in the edges of his vision are nothing compared to the sunlit golden man across from him and the joy that radiates between the both of them. There’s zero care who might be looking through the window – they’re far past those hushed moments of not letting anyone see them affectionate, anyway. And as their foreheads press together, Asta’s arm squeezes a little tighter around him as his joy continues to bloom and burn the wildfire of his love to destroy any lingering anxieties and worries.

“I did not know what it was either, love.” He admits softly, through his own panting breaths, his smile wide enough to ache when they come to the same consensus that they both weren’t sure how to navigate it aside from the fact that it ran entirely off of each other – in tune with one another and their feelings, even if there was the occasional misunderstandings. Just like a season ago when Asta had thought Danta was over their relationship when he’d come home mangled after the mud behemoth.

They do meet the same sentiment, though, that neither of them were going to lose the other. It’s a vow that’s made and sealed with the press of their lips that Asta dives into with his agreement purely based off of his instinct. When his lungs are fire again and he withdraws, its to press his forehead against his lover’s again, panting into the space between them. “I love you.” He murmurs softly, his accent thick with the tightness of his throat where the joy has begun to wear on him physically.

Then, as if the butcher remembers his other hand is still holding the box, he shifts enough to keep them still touching as he holds it up between them. “Try it on, darling, I want to see what it looks like on you.” The lid has slipped back on in their shuffle, peering up at Danta in its intricate bone carved decorations.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"I love you too," Danta mumbles, feeling dizzied by the past few moments (and likely a lack of oxygen as well) and having to lean into the butcher a little more than he would otherwise. His fingers tangle in the back of Asta's dark hair even as the other hand smooths down his back, as if worried he's put a wrinkle in the shirt he's so carefully put on. "I'd let the world burn for you." Or he'd burn it himself, more likely.

Wanting to chase after his touch even as they part only a fraction, it's the carved box that Asta holds up between them that has Danta remembering the reason he'd dropped to one knee in the first place. "I didn't get you anything," he whispers, like it's an oversight he ought to have foreseen, but he nevertheless cups his hand around Asta's to push the lid up and to reveal the sparkling fire obsidian within.

"You had this made?" he guesses, sounding quietly awed and carefully taking the ring from where it's nestled inside. "It's like a little piece of you," he observes immediately, slipping it onto his finger - one conveniently left bare and entirely suited for an engagement ring, where it glitters prettily among the array of other jewellery. "What do you think?"

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

“I would do a great many terrible things for you, darling. Gladly.” Comes his agreement, purring the compliment even as he’s throwing a distraction toward the Maverick for the latch onto with so much excitement lingering in his face. As the box is opened, though, the butcher’s free hand is free to settle at his lover’s hip, drawing back to get a better view of the way the ring glints in the sunlight as a perfect match to his horns.

I didn’t get you anything is a whisper that has Asta realizing that he probably should have explained better back when they’d talked about the potential of this. “Oh, darling, I know. You have plenty of time to get me something, do not fret.” He reaches up to brush a braid over from getting in his face.

“I did.” He confirms, watching as it slips into the open and available space – the gold and fire obsidian a perfect addition to the rest of the rings and jewelry adorning the Maverick. It’s very clear the way it looks on the Maverick’s hand is exactly what the butcher had hoped for, and it’s almost like some tension loosens from his shoulders as he draws back up to his full height, his hand dropping to take the one with the new ring. “It is everything I hoped it would be, my love.” He says with every ounce of confidence in his body, blooming with pride and happiness.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Asta takes his hand and Danta is left dazzled for more than a few moments by the sight of the fire obsidian gleaming like an oilspill rainbow on his finger. He has to remind himself to breathe on more than one occasion, the smile that starts to creep across his face one of wonder and delight. "I already have something in mind," he murmurs, leaning in for a chaste kiss that still manages to crackle heat through his veins.

Drawing back at the feel of the butcher's fingers brushing his hair out of his face, he finds himself grinning foolishly and unable to stop it. "I'm glad," he says, "because I'm never going to take it off." Melting forward, he clasps the butcher against him suddenly, his embrace tight and thrumming with warmth, his forehead dropping to rest on Asta's shoulder.

"I don't know how you expect me to go out to dinner with you now," he says, voice muffled and his tone playfully chastising. "...But I will," he adds, in case Asta tries to change their plans. "I can hear the cogs in your head where you've been planning all of this. It would be rude not to let them all play out."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

The way Danta’s smile blooms is one that’s far more innocent than he traditionally sees on his lover’s face. It’s captivating with the way the light spills in, the way he leans in to press a short kiss to his lips. He indulges, because of course he does, and when he withdraws from it to brush his braid back out of his face and sees the foolish grin on his smile, the butcher’s never felt more right than he has in this moment.

“I will gladly wait to see it.” He promises the Maverick, just in case he feels like he should rush it. Which, probably brings them to the idea of planning, and as such the butcher finds himself very much not of the mindset to plan while they should toil the rest of the day away with their celebrations and of course telling their friends of the joyous news.

The chastised comment has Asta murmuring a warm laugh, shaking his head in a way that sends the antler chains dancing. “I want to spoil you. And besides, after today I imagine we have plenty of planning to do. I want tonight to be just about us, no?” He suggests, pocketing the box to fully wrap Danta in a tight hug, another kiss that sends sparks through him and leaves him feeling light as a cloud, before he’s withdrawing to snag his hand – the hand bearing his ring. “Shall we, then?” The sooner they go and eat, the sooner they can return to their room and indulge in one another and all of the rest of the sweet nothings that bloom through the butcher second after second.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"You already spoiled me," Danta accuses, peeping up at the butcher with a boyish smirk on his face that he tries to hide with a kiss against the side of Asta's neck. "You gave me a ring and told me to marry you - I think I'm all set for a long while." That won't stop him, of course, from going along with it anyway, but rest assured Danta now feels like he's got a lot of spoiling to do himself, already starting to plot and consider how he might best reciprocate the other man's thoughtfulness.

Nodding agreeably - to letting tonight be about them and them alone, and to setting off - Danta slips his feet into a pair of sandals and follows in Asta's wake, his fingers twining with the butcher's as he falls into step with him. It's a rare thing indeed for them to walk in public hand in hand, preferring other contact to being seen as traditionally together, but if any night is an exception, it's tonight.

"Hey," he says under his breath as they head down towards the front door, "you know something?" Grinning and refusing to look at Asta as if that will crack whatever composure he's summoned, Danta whispers, "You've got a fiancé ."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash