i've always liked to play with fire

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

Completely unaware of the importance of his staying or the potential travesty that Asta pairs with his initial rejection of the gift, for Danta at least, now that the anger (and fear, not that he'll ever admit it) has fizzled out and has nowhere else to go, exhaustion is all that's left. Exhaustion and relief and the overwhelming desire to return to something familiar and easy, so as the other man curls around him, offering the warmth of his skin and a welcome darkness to hide in, the Maverick wants for nothing else.

"Thanks," he mumbles, his voice muffled against the side of the butcher's neck, and though his eyes are already closed, Asta might feel the smile that curls across Danta's lips at the feel of fingers in his hair. "He can get thoughtful presents, but he can't write a fucking letter," he sasses quietly, an indication above all that things are exactly as they should be between them again.

Alas, there won't be any further witty remarks from the Maverick after that for some time, because for the best part of the next couple of hours, he's out cold, snoring against Asta's shoulder and flailing should the other man try to extract himself. By the time Danta comes around from his nap, in fact, the distant music from outside the butcher's door will indicate that the Dusklight is back in full swing and then some.

"If anyone causes trouble they can just kill each other," he decides, voice roughened by sleep and still mumbled into Asta's neck. "Security is busy right now."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark