[SE] sleep deprivations got me at my heels

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

"Gods, who knows?" Danta grins. "I'd probably get myself into all sorts of trouble." It had certainly been the case prior to Asta's arrival in his life. That's not to say that the butcher has tamed him, so much as he's now the target for the majority of that trouble, for better or for worse. Smirking to feel Asta shift and try to draw himself out of the lull of his fingers and fuss, Danta tilts his head into the hand that cups his cheek, nibbling harmlessly at the butcher's thumb.

"I consider us both very lucky," he purrs. "And it really does, doesn't it?" More than ready for the kiss that Asta aims against his lips, the Maverick hums a soft note of approval and lets his arm curl around the other man's neck. "Mm? Oho, now you're pushing the boat out," he says teasingly. "I can't think of a better way to spend our time. C'mon, then - I'll pour you some wine and you can focus on getting upright."

Wriggling beneath him to try and worm his way back up the couch - a difficult endeavour when there are still bandages between his shoulder blades, Danta eventually manages to prop himself up enough to pour Asta a glass of something dark and rich and red. "I can vouch for the taste of this," he assures him. "I was slowly working through the bottle while you were asleep."

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

Oh, he would, too. All kinds of trouble that the butcher already can see (mostly because they are in fact aimed at him these days). Not that he’s complaining, of course. He quite likes having any and all ones of Danta’s attention. The more chaotic the better, if you ask him.

As it stands, he lets a soft laugh leave him before he’s shifting the subject, to blink at his lover with affection radiating from eyes made a near dark black with the lowlight of the room. “Mhm.” Is the muffled answer, given into the claiming kiss, before he makes his suggestion. “Lovely.” He purrs, shifting to try and get upright.

It does take him time to get up there, just as it takes time for Danta to get upright in turn. He finally manages it, though, and glances momentarily at his arm in the slung before he’s focusing on the glass offered, mocking a soft playful gasp to hear Danta’s already sampled it. “You got a head start, darling?” He’s playfully dramatic, the lines of distraught he harbors on his face nothing more than pure acting as he lifts the glass to his lips in response, taking a sip and humming at the taste. It was quite delicious, though he shouldn’t be surprised. Danta knew how to pick divine wines. “Very lovely choice, but alas I must catch up, no?” He glances over at the Maverick before he downs the glass and holds it out for more.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

"Well of course I did. What else was I meant to do after we were brought two bottles of the stuff to enjoy?" Grinning and reaching for his own wine after surrendering Asta's drink to him, the butcher will be pleased to note that the Maverick has only barely touched his - though apparently it doesn't stop him from trying to catch up. "Wh-- I didn't get that much of a headstart," he blurts, barking out a laugh but nonetheless accepting the empty glass.

"If you keep this up, I'll have to match your pace and we'll end up passed out before the turn of the hour," he warns, not sounding at all upset about such a course of action. Draining his own glass and refilling them both, he holds one out for Asta and relaxes back into the couch cushions. "Do you ever think I ought to spend more time down there in the Dusklight?" he wonders.

Of course right now is the exception, given their injuries, but he means in general. Since he and Asta have stopped talking past one another and dancing around the subject of their blossoming feelings, it certainly feels as if he abandons his business more often than not in lieu of climbing into the butcher's bed.

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

Chuckling softly – because how is the butcher to know how much of a head start his lover’s gotten? He can’t see the contents of the wine in the bottle, nor is the glass Danta has been nursing a good indicator. How does he know it isn’t his second? So instead, the butcher flashes a too sharp grin over at the Maverick as he holds the glass up for the refill as he watches Danta drain his own glass and top them off. “Mm, fine, I suppose we are even now.” He murmurs, sinking back into the cushions of the couch and cradling the wine glass by the stem.

The question takes him off guard, though, not at all what he expects to hear from Danta’s lips, and he has a moment of wondering whether or not he’d lied to him when he said he didn’t get that much of a head start. “What do you mean, darling?” He asks at first, testing the question on his tongue before he twists his head to peer over at his lover, looking surprisingly small without the horns adding his additional height. “It is an established business, no? I do not have to spend as much time down there simply because the threat of me is enough to keep our patrons polite. You, darling, are the proprietor. I imagine they do not expect to see you every day?”

Or is it something else that's started to eat away at the Maverick that the butcher has completely missed?

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

"If we are going to get wasted before bed, we should at least be a similar level of wasted, no?" Grinning, Danta reaches out to softly clink his glass against Asta's before taking a sip; already his body is flooding with warmth from having downed the first drink, and he grabs for the tray of food he'd been picking at while waiting for Asta to awaken, setting it in his lap.

Brows furrowing as he considers his response to the other man's question, Danta eventually huffs out a sigh and reaches for a cracker and a hunk of cheese. "I suppose I was just remembering how tight a ship Morax used to run. I used to think the sun wouldn't rise if she wasn't around to oversee it," he admits with a shrug, though a small smile is curling at the corners of his mouth as he glances up at the butcher.

"Thanks for pulling me back to earth with it. You're right, of course. And if anything does go wrong, it isn't as though we aren't in the building."

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

“It would make the most sense, yes.” Comes the soft tonations of his voice, eyeing the plate of food as its brought to rest in the Maverick’s lap – as he makes the mental plans of how he might balance the wine glass before he realizes his hand isn’t broken and he can still absolutely hold onto things, he just can’t lift that arm. (He’s still quite tired, forgive him). Shifting it so that the glass is held in the hand that sits in the sling, the butcher’s attention immediately lifts to Danta as he reaches for a cube of cheese, brows pinching despite the smile that ghosts across his lover’s face.

Warmth spreads through him with the wine and the pain killer mixture, and he meets his impossibly beautiful blue gaze with dark honey of his own. “We are in the building.” He agrees before he puffs out a little sound and shifts to sit a touch closer, brushing his good shoulder against Danta’s, pressing in to his side given that both of his hands are full. “And you, darling, are not her.” Regardless of the things he may have said in anger forever ago. “She ran everything based off of fear, swift and strict punishment, and compliance because of it.” Which… he doesn’t verbally draw the parallels between his own position and how it could be considered exactly the same. He does think about it, though. “You are brilliant and chaotic and beautiful. You are fierce when you are required to be, but you are fun, too. The Dusklight enjoys your presence. It does not become tense or anxious because of it. You do not need to feel as if you are less because you are not ruling how she had ruled.”

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

Smiling to watch in real time as Asta realises the limits of his injuries (or lack thereof, as it happens, when it comes to holding the wine glass), when the butcher starts to speak again, Danta settles back to nibble on his cracker and cheese while he listens. And he doesn't quite know what he expected from the other man's reassurances - other than to feel reassured, which is a given - but as he's showered in compliments, he can already feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Shut up, you'll make me blush," he hisses, the scolding more affectionate than anything, not to mention redundant given that he's already blushing. Sighing again, this time the gesture seems to have something unlocking in the Maverick that leaves him quietly relaxed, a soft smile playing across his face. "You always know what to say, you bastard," he mutters, nudging his good side and reaching out to seize his fingers - the ones holding his snack, yes - to kiss his knuckles.

And then promptly steal the cube of cheese between his teeth.

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

He can see the blush spread already, and the butcher already begins to relax with it, letting his concern fade to hear the hiss that leaves the blonde that sparks a soft snort to leave the butcher’s nose. “I believe I already have.” He comments, taking note of the flush of red to his ears and to the sharp panes of his cheeks. Not that Asta will complain – he particularly likes the fact he can make him blush, whether intentional or not.

His hand is offered up easily – and he should know better, truly, but he doesn’t – as warm lips find his knuckles. He’s just about to press a finger to his jaw in an equally affectionate touch when he watches the cube of cheese vanish from his fingers in real time, barking a laugh that surprises even him. “I do quite excel at being charming.” He says before he twists his hand around to cup his jaw fully, a touch more demanding, fingertips and thumb pressing gently into opposite sides of his lover’s jawbone. “And you truly are a crow, aren’t you darling?” He asks without any animosity, simply affection, as he leans in to press his lips to Danta’s in a chaste kiss – hand dropping the second he’s ensured he won’t pull away, to snag the rest of the plate in a large handful that leaves the plate empty when he pulls away.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

Surprised by his own audacity, Danta is trying to hide his laughter as he scarfs down his prize, and suddenly the flush to his cheeks doesn't seem so bad now that he's gotten ample retribution. "Mm, you certainly do--" he agrees, cut off by the strong yet gentle fingers that suddenly grasp his jaw. Raising his eyebrows as if in challenge - too bad, I already ate it, he might have quipped if he'd been able - the Maverick nevertheless accepts the kiss sent his way, having to remind himself to keep hold of his wine so it doesn't spill from his fingers.

All of this, of course, gives Asta plenty of time to swipe the contents of the tray in his bare fucking hand, Danta's mouth dropping open as he realises it. "Um?" he says, utterly lost for words as he sits back, tilting his head to the other man. "And now what?" he wants to know, sipping from his glass. "Go on, Mister Excels At Being Charming. Wow me."

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

Pulling away from the kiss with a smirk as he realizes what he’s done – he looks down quite content to see he has successfully nabbed each little portion of the tray until there’s nothing but crumbs left. Of course, that leaves him at a disadvantage – the wine glass in a hand attached to an arm that’s completely useless, and his other hand now full of crumbling crackers and cheeses that are beginning to warm and mold together.

He admittedly did not think it through, though. And he’s at a loss alongside Danta when the um hits the air and his lover sits back and he sips from his glass – a feat Asta can’t quite do either at this precise moment. Which leaves him with one option – perhaps the most chaotic and regretful, and that’s to shove the whole handful into his mouth before he’s incapable of stopping himself from childishly snickering as he does it.

Maybe he will be wowed. Or maybe Asta will simply choke on the cracker dust and won’t live long enough to hear the inevitable I told you so tone.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

Sitting like a good theocrat, regal and quietly curious to see what Asta will opt to do next, honestly Danta can't say he's all that surprised when the butcher chooses the nuclear option.

"Oh, I see," he says lightly, head tipped to the side to watch the chaos unfold as the other man crams every last cracker and cube of cheese into his mouth. Having to bite his lower lip so as not to laugh (and likely cause Asta to do the same), he quickly covers the expression behind another large sip of wine, which perhaps will give the butcher a chance to finish his impromptu snack.

Or maybe not.

"...Can I suggest trying to wash that down with your wine?" he ventures gently, trying and failing to keep the smile from running away across his face. "You know, since your hand is empty now..."

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

“Mmhm.” Comes the muffled sound through his nose once he’s managed to get them all in his mouth. It’s a fucking challenge, and as he chews it becomes more like trying to chew through mortar with how the cracker molds into the cheese, and he finds these very sharp teeth of his to be very little use with such thick foods. It wasn’t meat, wasn’t for tearing, and he quietly tries to chew as he angles his face purposefully away from Danta to try and ensure he doesn’t spot a laugh where he doesn’t end up choking on the whole lump of food in his mouth.

The suggestion is met with a hand held up, covered in crumbs of cracker, forcing his way through it to swallow and collect the wine glass to down it, before he finally finds it in him to cough. “Gods, it was so dry.” He whines, exhaling a breath before his tongue starts to prod his cheeks and he snorts. “And I bit my cheek.” Lifting that crumbly hand to his lips, he prods at the inside of his cheek where his finger comes away with blood, prompting the butcher to sigh quite over dramatically.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

More than used to being the one doing the stupid thing and needing Asta to pick up the pieces for him, this is quite an amusing change of pace for Danta, the Maverick grinning broadly but doing his best to keep his laughter in while his lover works through the consequences of his actions. "And how are we feeling about our decisions?" he wants to know, still sipping demurely at his wine while Asta chugs the rest of his glass.

"Was it? Who could have expected that," he says through a chuckle now that the other man can breathe without choking. "And come now, it's hardly the first time you've bitten your cheek." Still, at least Danta is happy to take pity on the butcher here, collecting his crumb-covered hand to kiss his bloody fingertips. "I get the feeling I need to catch up to you again," he says, nodding to Asta's empty glass.

"Do you want to crawl into bed with the wine now, so we don't have to try to do it hammered?"

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

How is he feeling about his decision? “Quite well, despite everything.” He admits, shooting a small smirk over at his lover once he’s prodded at the inside of his cheek. “And while it isn’t the first time, I do not enjoy doing it every time that I do.” He admits, tilting his head up a little, ready to become snarky again when Danta snags his hand and presses a kiss to his bloodied fingertips. He relaxes almost immediately, and he does spend a few moments prodding at the wound inside his mouth again before settling.

Danta would need to likely catch up again after that feat, and he nods as he shifts to stand, his knee popping with the motion that he pretends not to notice once he’s fully upright. Taking a few moments to unleash his glamor, he does shake out his hand a little over the tray before deigning to wipe it on a nearby cloth. In this process, his horns unfurl again and his tail returns, weaving delicately behind him like a dog paying attention to its wagging. Running his fingers through his hair to settle it behind the horns, he snags the muzzle and holds it in his bound hand, before he’s snagging his glass of wine to take with him. “I have missed the bed so much, Danta.” Comes the already drunken whine, waiting to approach their den until his lover’s on his feet and ready.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine