[SE] sleep deprivations got me at my heels

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

"I don't know about safer, but it was getting too funny to ignore," Danta apologises with a lopsided smile, the Maverick extracting himself and scooting over on the couch so Asta might be able to lay down and stretch out as much as his long legs will allow. As the butcher settles with his head in his lap, Danta takes a moment to adjust the blankets around him, tucking a lock of dark hair back behind his ears.

"Not for the first day or so," he assures him, of how obvious it might have been. "By now, though? Yeah, you're a bit rough at holding a conversation," he admits, choosing not to mention that they've had the same pattern of chit-chat for a couple of hours now. "Sleep," he urges softly, stroking a gentle thumb along the bridge of Asta's nose and across his forehead.

"You're safe, and I'll be here awake, just in case anything happens." Which he sincerely doubts it will, based on how much the butcher needs to rest.

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

Nose wrinkling to hear that it was funny, the butcher doesn’t have a response that would do him any justice on his thought process. So, silent but with the very air of a huff leaving him as his only response, he does settle in the Maverick’s lap, allowing himself to be doted on as his lover’s slender fingers brush his dark hair back and he can feel their warmth against the bridge of his nose.

“Ah.” He says to the follow up, that his conversational skills are lacking with the little amount of sleep he’s gotten ever since it’s happened. Luckily, however, he dwells on it minimally as he gets comfortable, the lull of sleep drawing his attention away from anything meaningful. A soft “okay” escaping him in response to the fact Danta would stay awake just in case.

It takes approximately less than a minute before the butcher’s out, in a very deep and very heavy sleep, hardly moving aside from the rise of his chest and the slight twitch of his foot in his sleep, curled up as it is on the couch. A soft snore escapes him on occasion, but unless Danta moves him or wakes him, he’ll be out for a good portion of time.

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 //

"Okay," Danta repeats with a soft smile, before falling silent and relaxing as Asta lulls himself easily off into slumber. The Maverick stays like that for a while longer, until he can sense that the butcher is deeply asleep and not likely to stir from his moving around. Only then does Danta reach for the sorry bundle of green that is meant to be a frog, setting the extra material on Asta's chest and continuing to create what will surely end up being a monstrosity of a frog.

Hours later when his lover finally stirs, said frog is complete and snuggled into the crook of Asta's neck and Danta has had someone deliver food, wine and a fresh stock of medicine and painkillers, because apparently this is who they are now. Nursing a glass of wine in one hand and listening to the evening bustle of the Last Whisper outside, the Maverick is apparently very content to sit like this indefinitely. His free hand has been smoothing through Asta's hair in slow passes, tiny wisps of flame igniting between his fingers, and though the muzzle and its extra straps does make things more difficult, he has no intention of leaving the butcher without some well deserved fuss.

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

Completely unaware of anything that happens while he’s passed out, Danta’s free to utilize his chest for the green yarn and whatever else he deems to be a decent project in the interim. He’s also unaware of the fussing, though something with the way Danta’s fingers stroke through his hair and the soft ribbons of flame have him relaxing more and more.

It’s when the Last Whisper is in full swing for the evening that he starts to wake up, in a slow series of shifting his head and low rumbles of sounds that escape him, his good arm lifting and winding around his still hornless head, pressing into Danta’s side as he stretches out a little, before his head tilts the other way, pressing his face into the Maverick’s stomach, eyelids twitching like he’s coming to terms with being awake enough to open them.

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 //

Danta freezes at first - usually if Asta starts to grumble and shift in his sleep, it's a sign of a nightmare and some impending panic and violence - but as the other man stretches out a bit and nuzzles against him, he lets out a long, slow sigh of relief. Feeling a smile sneak across his face, he allows himself one last sip of wine before setting it down on the side table next to the couch, then brings both of his hands to the leather holding the muzzle in place.

"Good evening," he purrs, not wanting to confuse Asta with the time of day even if he's just waking up. Clever fingers quickly work the buckles and fastenings free, allowing Danta to carefully guide the muzzle away from the butcher's face, setting it down next to his wine. "There's no rush to wake up. It's been quiet." Comparatively so, anyway, the Maverick brushing his knuckles affectionately across Asta's cheek and the beard that has started to grow out, before plunging his hands properly into his hair now that the muzzle isn't in the way.

Scritching indulgently against the spaces usually blocked by his horns, it's a further few minutes of fuss before Danta speaks again. "Are you feeling a little better?"

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

So slowly coming to the realization of his existence, the butcher curls in and around Danta as much as he can feasibly manage with one arm out of commission. The good evening is heard, quietly and muffled, but the hands on his face to remove the muzzle have already begun to slip it away from his face, leaving behind reddened lines where it had been pressed into his face while he’d slept.

All he can offer in his sleepy state is a low hum – collecting the meaning as being he can sit here with his face pressed in against Danta’s stomach for as long as he likes. At least, that would be the idea, twisted toward his lover as his fingers brush along his cheek and beard, it’s when those fingers focus on scratching against the sensitive spaces where his horns typically resided that the butcher’s first actual sound is a muffled moan he’s incapable of stopping as it punches its way past his lips. He curls into him a bit more, nodding in a way that allows the movement to have Danta’s hands focusing on more portions of his scalp.

“So far, yes.” He manages in that sleepy tone, eyes still shut, wholly indulging in the affection shared as his good arm slips around behind Danta’s lower back, tucking him in against him a bit more when he finally starts to open his eyes.

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 //

"Good," Danta purrs, unable not to laugh to feel Asta try to curl around him as much as he can, the Maverick shifting to make it easier for the other man to nuzzle into his space. Continuing to scritch his fingers through Asta's hair, pressing against his scalp and down towards the back of his neck, as far as he's concerned this is a perfect way to spend the evening.

"Whenever you might be ready, I did have someone bring some food and wine for us," he says, fingers trailing around towards the butcher's jawline, pressing gently but firmly as if to release whatever tension might have gathered there over the past few days - especially since the nightmare that had ended with Danta's arm heavily bandaged. "Or there's tea, of course."

Whatever Asta's preference, rest assured it will come alongside a healthy dose of painkillers to continue to dull the ache of their bad decisions.

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

Ignoring the Maverick’s laugh, he takes the opportunity as soon as it’s presented to snake his arm around his middle, relishing in the fingers that thread through his dark, soft hair. As he opens his eyes, there’s still weariness, but far less than there had been before. The bags still sit under his eyes but they’re no longer as dark or as heavy looking. And at the press of his fingers to his jaw, the tension soothes there to leave him quite the malleable cannibal settled into Danta’s lap.

He blinks a few times to snatch some amount of awareness, a warm breath exhaled at his stomach in a low release. “You are so kind to me, darling.” He mumbles in his rough, sleep driven voice, but he peers up at his lover with the glimmer of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. He remains like that for a few long moments before he’s shifting slightly, utilizing the arm behind Danta to steady himself as he sits up just enough to press into his chest now rather than his stomach, his cheek pressed just under his collarbone as his hand smooths out flatly at the small of his back. “What did you get us to eat?” He hums softly, unable to peel himself away yet to look.

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 //

"As if I could be anything else," Danta mutters, the words low and quiet like a secret. Once, his response would have been all bravado, waving off the butcher's comment or acting as if this was all part of some transaction between them. Those days, evidently, are long gone. And as Asta levers himself to half sit up, it's with a huff of amusement that Danta's arms close around him, as if to prevent him from slouching away again.

"There's a pot of soup over the fire, and some bread and fruit and cheese," he advises - not that he thinks Asta will be going to eat any time soon, not if the Maverick has anything to do with it. Shifting to slouch down on the couch and drawing the butcher over him like a blanket, the change in position offers him a chance to fully stretch out, his back arching and crackling deliciously, toes pressing against the plush cushions.

Letting his arms slip around Asta once more, careful of his bad shoulder, he strokes indulgent fingers down the length of his back over the blankets, nosing into his dark hair. "I didn't expect you to sleep for that long," he confesses, grinning. "My legs are dead."

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

Once upon a time, it might have been a transaction of sorts. But here and now? They cling to one another in such a gentleness that at least the butcher had assumed he’d never quite be capable of. And with Danta’s help over the weeks and months leading up to it, he’s created a monster of a different kind – one who no longer realizes he needs or deserves to be as touch starved as he’s been over the last forever.

Arms wind around him and keep him pressed into Danta’s chest, not that he plans on going anywhere of course. The answer of soup on the fire and the variety of other things to snack on has him so focused he only registers they’re shifting on the couch when they’re already halfway there – shifting to become that blanket for his lover, the hand at his back pressing in to help that arch of his back as he listens to the variety of cracks and pops that occur.

“Ah, you didn’t?” The butcher says, the smile evident in where he presses into Danta’s torso. “I would apologize, but I truly am unsure what you expected when you realized I had been unfortunately quite awake for the last three days.” There’s that teasing, taunting tone characteristic of the butcher as he nuzzles in a bit more, tilting his head up to press a kiss to his lover’s chin and jaw. “Do you still have feeling in them?” He asks curiously, lips curving into a small smile as that red line still remains on his face from where the muzzle had pressed in.

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 //

Luckily for Asta, he's become the exact sort of monster Danta is happy to have blanketing him, the Maverick smiling to himself and letting the weight of the other man press him down into the couch. "I don't know what I expected," he purrs. "But I'm glad you got plenty of rest, even if it was at the expense of my legs." And as for how they are doing now, Danta wriggles his toes and shrugs a bit, his fingers spidering back up the length of the butcher's spine to press gently against the tension he knows has built there over the course of the past three days.

"They will manage," he assures Asta, nuzzling into his dark hair only to be interrupted by the brush of his lover's lips. "Oh, you must be feeling better if you're back to these sorts of tricks," he remarks, smiling a kiss against his forehead before sagging back into the couch once more. "You think you're healed enough for us to get rid of that sling yet?"

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

“Mm, it felt as if I didn’t move.” Which, Danta could tell him whether he did or didn’t. For the most part, though, his exhaustion had been immense and he’d not even had the mental capacity in his sleep to dream up any horrors – thankfully for the both of them. So for now, hearing that his lover’s legs will manage, he winds his arm up and around his neck, fingers stroking gently along the back of his neck and the top of his shoulder.

It's that perfect position to press a kiss to his jaw, and he snorts a little to hear the response, letting him sag as he presses in a touch more. It’s the smile that’s all the answer he gets, before he’s twisting a little to glance down at the arm that’s restrained, stretching out his fingers a little with a soft sigh. “I am not sure. A part of me is anxious over whether or not I will forget that it hurts and try to use it and ruin it again.” Like he’d done days ago when he’d torn that muzzle off in his sleep.

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 //

"That's because you didn't move," Danta confirms with a grin, letting his fingertips play through the back of Asta's hair even as his eyes close briefly to enjoy the fuss he recieves in return. "Much as I liked having you warm my lap for hours, though, I was starting to get a little bored. So it's good to have you back." One of his hands drops to deftly press at the tight muscles of the butcher's good shoulder, even as he follows his gaze to the sling.

"Mm, that's a good point," he agrees, albeit reluctantly. "I suppose you'd better keep it on a little longer, then. Lucky you've got me to give you a helping hand, no?" Winking, Danta shifts a little more beneath Asta so he can properly enjoy the way the other man fits against his body, warmed by the heat of him and the fire crackling nearby. "What would you like to do with our evening?" he asks. "We could get drunk and pass out?"

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 makes sense, honestly, but the butcher can only flash an almost sheepish smile of amusement up at his lover from where he’s pressed his bearded face into his chest. He stills from his fussing when Danta begins to press at the tight muscles of his good shoulder, immediately causing him to relax and press a bit more of his willowy weight against the Maverick. “Whatever would you do without my companionship, mm?” He teases softly, before he pulls himself out of the lull Danta has tried to put him in, relaxing a touch when he explains his thoughts of the sling.

“I am quite lucky, darling.” Comes the soft purr, shifting when Danta shifts to blanket him a bit better – but it also allows his good hand to slip up his chest to cup the side of his face and thread his fingers through his blonde locks, humming a sound of contemplation as the offer’s listed out. “That sounds lovely.” Gods knew he could use more sleep anyway, but at least the nap had staved the edge off. And perhaps the mixture of alcohol and the exhaustion and a muzzle that worked once more might be enough to keep him from dreaming anything terrible.

Shifting again to blanket Danta even more, he rises himself up a touch to claim a true kiss against the Maverick’s lips, before he withdraws slightly, brushing the hair back from his face where he continues to keep his glamour up with nothing for the hair to wind around to stay back. “Perhaps we could pass out in the bed, finally?” He’d avoided it like the plague, but it sounded perfect right this second.

Astaroth

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