[SE] melancholy hill

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

He feels Danta pull away right when Asta’s balance is lost, and he really should have let go but he was the only steady thing he had his hand on for any semblance of catching himself. Luckily, at least, he does let Danta’s arm go, precisely at the time he clatters to the floor and the pop is both heard and felt.

His brows pinch and he pushes himself up almost immediately after, any snarkiness gone in light of the pain in Danta’s tone. “Shit.” He curses, hands pushing him up further from the pile of shards of porcelain of the tea cup that shattered. “Shit, okay, I’m sorry, darling— let me help.” Brushing the porcelain dust from his hands onto his pants, the butcher reaches out for Danta with a far more tender approach.

“I think it is just out of place. I can put it back.” He offers, hands gentle and warm as he touches the not moving arm tenderly, waiting for the okay.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Nnnn wait," Danta blurts, skittering back away from the butcher a couple of steps, his bare feet absolutely catching on the shards of porcelain he'd thrown down there (and they'll both probably be cut up from it by the end of this honestly). "It's fine. It probably just needs to--fuck--" Having tried to touch a hand to his (obviously dislocated) shoulder, the Maverick proves why it's a bad idea to manhandle the limb himself, and it gives Asta the time he needs to approach.

"Gods," he hisses, biting at the inside of his cheek and clenching his fist hard enough for his nails to leave crescents in his palms. "Okay. Okay, fine, do it," he pants, shaking out that same hand and trying to focus hard on the opposite wall, as if staring holes into it will help him dissociate from the jolt of agony he knows will precede any sort of relief.

Dantalion

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

Fingers curl as they retract from touching the Maverick’s shoulder as he skitters back, a puff of air leaving him that flits a strand of hair. He leaves it rather than fixing it, so focused on catching up with the blonde in order to fix the problem he caused. “It needs to be put back.” He says softly, almost a plea before Danta finally agrees.

“Okay, darling, deep breath.” He closes all of the distance, warm hands reaching out with a deft kind of precision, grabbing onto his arm and once Danta takes that sharp inhale, the butcher straightens his arm and pushes, getting the joint back into place, another brief pop before he’s holding Danta’s arm gently to keep him from having to move it too much. “I’m sorry, darling.” He breathes as he exhales a sharp sound, all his stress and anxiety blooming in the flush that graces his face as he scans Danta’s face, reaching up to cradle his handsome face gently with warm licks of fire against his jaw from the butcher’s fingertips.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

He simultaneously hates and appreciates that Asta sets his shoulder without a countdown or any prior warning, because no sooner has he drawn in that breath when his entire left side feels as though it has caught fire (or at least that's how he imagines it feels, never having been burnt). His curse is a tense and bitten back thing, the scent of blood filling the air from where he's accidentally sliced the inside of his cheek with a fang, but he can move his arm again, even if he surrenders it willingly to the butcher.

"Fuuuuuck," he says, riding the word out on a quick, shaky few breaths and blinking quickly before glancing up towards Asta. "Fuck," he says again, leaning into the hand that cradles his cheek and stepping forward to melt against him, winding his good arm around his waist. "You dislocated my shoulder, Asta," he hisses, the accusation gentle and petulant and muffled by the way Danta buries his face in the crook of the other man's neck.

"That was rude."

Dantalion

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

Oh he can scent the blood that fills the air, but so concerned with Danta as he is, the butcher focuses wholly on ensuring the rest of him is okay. “I know, I know.” Asta’s accent hums into the air gently alongside Danta’s curses, cradling and holding him and welcoming him the second he melts into him. His arms wind around him tightly, careful to ensure he keeps Danta’s arm from being too jostled in the process.

“If it helps, it was not my intention.” He says softly, threading flame tipped fingers into Danta’s blond as his chin is lifted slightly to give his lover all the room in the world to bury in against his bronzed neck. “I did not expect to fall.” He drawls a little with a sigh, forgoing any sore loserness in order to take care of the blonde. “So, for that I am sorry, darling. What do you need?” What can I do?

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"It helps, but not right this second," Danta huffs, the Maverick taking a few moments to catch his breath, as if to give his body a chance to come down from the unexpected lance of pain he'd subjected it to. Completely malleable in Asta's embrace, it's a further minute or so before he lets out a long sigh at last and turns his head to brush a kiss against the other man's throat. "If anyone expected to fall, they'd likely take the opportunity not to do it," he points out, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

As for what he needs, standing in the butcher's arms with his fire tipped fingers playing through his hair pretty much covers it, but although he doesn't say so, the comedown from the adrenaline rush and the abrupt awakening in the middle of the night have left him completely wiped out, and the other man will easily be able to tell as much. "I need one new dart," he says nevertheless, a wry smile audible in the words. "Someone seems to have burned up one of my others, you see."

Dantalion

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

A hum escapes the butcher, akin to a yeah, yeah. But he doesn’t announce it verbally, if only because he doesn’t want to be too snarky considering the fact he did just accidentally dislocate his lover’s arm. And it would likely bruise and be painful for some time to come – but for now, at least, he holds him close against his chest, threading firetipped fingers through golden strands, forgoing any of the previous bitterness at the bullseye or the teacup that had shattered, even if scratches lace the very hands that caress his lover.

The kiss to his neck is a welcome touch, and it’s followed by a huff of a quiet laugh that escapes him. “Yes, I imagine they would.” He murmurs, conceding the point because Danta was in pain, and perhaps that’s all that was really needed when it came to Astaroth and his high horse.

“Oh, it was cursed, was it not?” The butcher drawls, shifting slightly to continue to thread his fingers into Danta’s hair, but this time adding a little bit of pressure, like soft little scratches along his scalp, in between the diamond curvature of his horns. “Perhaps a ghost took unkindly to your bullseye? We can investigate when the morning comes?” His voice drops a touch more playfully, lips quirking as he twists to nose his way to press a kiss to Danta’s temple.

Then, keeping himself just as close despite how he twists, he aims to snatch Danta up into his arms to carry him back toward the bed to reverently lay him down amongst the strewn blankets and discarded metal muzzle.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Was it?" Danta wonders of his dart, sounding skeptical and turning ever so slightly to peep up at Asta, just as his lips brush softly across his temple. "I will have to take your word for it until morning, I suppose." Because for all of their shenanigans, there's no place he'd rather be than right here, his eyes slipping shut and a soft sound of contentment rumbling in his chest at the affections given by skilled and wicked fingers scritching between his horns.

About to suggest they go and sit back in bed, the remark turns into a hitch of breath to find himself suddenly in the butcher's arms, though Danta is hardly complaining. Keeping his injured left arm cradled more closely against his chest, he noses affectionately ino the other man's neck, as grateful as he is tired. Nevertheless, he can't help but check in on Asta again. "We can still stay up, if you don't think you can rest," he mumbles.

Dantalion

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

“No use in worrying about it now, no?” Comes the drawl on the heels of Danta’s own hum, the butcher refuses the thought of even parting from him for a second while he picks his lover up to bring him back toward the bed. It’s there that he still refuses to part, though he does extinguish his candlelit fingers so as to not burn the bed, he ensures that the Maverick is comfortable, even as he finds a way to check in on him.

As if Asta hadn’t just actually physically harmed the Maverick (unintentionally, of course). “I am okay now, darling.” He tries to reassure him, parting only momentarily to shed out of the pants and Danta’s sweater that he’d snagged, before he crawls into the bed and tugs Danta closer to him, embracing him in a way that both supports the left arm and connects them. “You will be sore later.” More than he was now, if Asta had to bet, and he might even need a sling depending on how stubborn Danta would be to try to use it without one. “But I will take care of you.” Comes the quiet vow, one that drips from his lips in a hum of protectiveness that’s paired with the warm press of his lips to the side of Danta’s neck where he noses in.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

There is no use in worrying about it, especially not as he's settled so carefully in bed and when the weight and heat of the other man comes to join him. "As long as you're sure," he says of Asta being okay, adjusted and relaxed against him with his injured arm tucked in close. In Danta's head, of course, he'll be absolutely fine come morning, so the soreness will be quite the shock. But at least Asta will be there to explain, and to try and prevent any poor decisions. (Try being the operative word).

"Mm, you always do." he continues, his tone sleepier by the second as he turns his head to nose into the other man's dark hair, to breathe in the scent of smoke and blood and the lingering vanilla and lavender from the tea. "Even if you were the one to do it." Grinning, there are clearly no hard feelings by the way Danta becomes a boneless, dead weight in the other man's arms, soon snoring softly without the need for sedatives or any other medicine.

Hopefully the rest of the night will be a peaceful one - for both of their sakes.

~FIN

Dantalion