mississippi boys, inner city boys

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

Even Danta isn't sure whether he believes Asta's vow, solemn and earnest as it sounds coming from the butcher's lips. He wants to, desperately so, but things are still a little too new, a little too recent for him not to watch around the corner for any sign of a return to the past. Being Theocrat helps, it's true, but gods - the fact that he's still having nightmares is proof enough that even one's best efforts can't always keep the wolves from the door.

What he can do is surrender fully into the other man's affections, humming a note of tired approval at the calloused fingers that stroke along his skin, and he scoffs out a laugh as Asta speaks again. "That depends on what kind of things you'll be moving," he mumbles. "I don't have the space to fit the entirety of your extensive wardrobe." Bunny slippers and a toothbrush, though? They wouldn't be so bad.

The reiteration - that he's safe with the butcher - is enough to have Danta finally shifting to turn in Asta's arms, nestling back against his chest and breathing in deep the scent of honey and smoke and blood. "I hope you didn't have any plans to wake up early," he mumbles. "Because I might have just cancelled them."

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //