future's so bright it's burning

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Joke's on you, Asta, because Danta consistently surprises himself with how much time he's ready and willing to do nothing but lay in the dark, quiet heat of their room, pressed up against the other man as close as he can get. It's what he plans to do after this, in fact, if he's not immediately distracted by the butcher in other ways. "I can take this down once we're done," he adds of the addition to their den. "I moved all of your things quite safely out of the way." Just in case the other man is concerned his craft space has disappeared forever.

That is so, and though Asta can't see it, Danta does raise his eyebrows expectantly at the mischievous tail that winds around him, before it disappears and allows him to properly begin. "Mm, I thought you'd like this one," he says with a crooked smile, smoothing warm hands up the length of the butcher's back before pinpointing that awkward tightness in his shoulder again, likely where he'd been forced to hold himself differently with his injury.

"I'll be as gentle as I can, but this is stubborn," he warns as he starts to work out the knot.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

“I don’t mind.” The butcher hums contently – and he trusts Danta enough to know that he wouldn’t just toss this over his multitude of things he’s been working on, like the antlers in the corner, half sheared in places that might allow it to be affixed, but he hasn’t simply had the time to get around to doing much more with it. He’s sure Danta was as safe with the items as he said he was.

So it’s with utmost confidence and very little concern that the butcher rests in against the blankets, throwing his glamour up and preparing for Danta’s hands to start working out the tension further. He does very much enjoy the scent of almond, as it turns out, and he mumbles an mhmm a touch sleepily to hear his warning, bracing for it but trying to allow the oils to work into his skin and relax him.

There’s only a few points that Danta finds while he works out that particular knot where the butcher tenses up and winces, low hums to mention that it was painful but not worth stopping – before a loud crack is heard as the knot releases and the butcher seems to sink imperceptibly lower into the blankets with a sigh of relief. “Gods, Danta. You are a marvel.” Comes the sleepy purr.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"You say that now when my hands are all over you, but tomorrow when you're looking for that one thing, you might be cursing me." Grinning, Danta falls quiet to get back to work, careful to intersperse the attention he pays to the problem area of Asta's shoulder with gentle and relaxing sweeps of his fingers. Eventually, though, despite taking a few pauses and checking in with the other man, he feels - and hears - the knot release, Danta letting out a long sigh as well.

"You can thank the very talented workers we have, and the medics at the infirmary. I didn't pick up these tricks all by myself." The butcher will hear the smile in his voice as he focuses for a few moments on ensuring the area is relaxed and free of tension, before he leans in to press a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "Have you had enough of me yet?" he asks, letting his hands slowly plunge into the back of Asta's dark hair.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

Snorting and shaking his head, the butcher relaxes into the touch – because while he likely would be doing a where the fuck is this motion, he imagines with this being the result of having moved things, the butcher can’t be too upset. And he isn’t, at all. He’s content to sit there and keep Danta’s hands on him for as long as possible.

“Were they the bosses of the ones that helped us sneak out?” He asks in a sleepy, conspirator’s voice, melting into the touch now that the knot is worked out. He can hear the smile, though, and he lingers on it along with the warm press of his lips to the back of his neck and the hands in his hair, humming the quiet groan from his throat.

The follow up question takes him a moment to respond, putting his thoughts together before the low timber of his voice hums out, sleepy and far thicker accented, muffled from how he’s resting his face against his arms. “I will never have enough of you, darling.”

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"They might have been," Danta says with a sneaky smile that Asta won't see. "Not that I told them who was responsible for helping us to sneak out, of course. Those are the sorts of contacts you want to keep in case you need to use them again." But by now he doesn't expect much of his part of the conversation to sink in for the butcher, not with how sleepy he's started to sound.

But that's no bad thing, the Maverick spending a few moments letting his touch press and skate across Asta's scalp before he withdraws his hands, his fingers brushing featherlight down the length of his back. "Oh? I can believe that. For now though, maybe, it's time for a break." Leaning in again, this time Danta brushes a kiss to the crown of his lover's head, shifting off him to lean over and grab for the muzzle.

"C'mere," he purrs, encouraging Asta to turn enough to let him put it on. "We'll take a nap, and I'll treat you some more when you wake up."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

“Of course.” Asta agrees wholeheartedly, even as his accent grows thicker and thicker. Especially with the hands in his hair, the low tones of his voice numbed by long fingers of sleep trying to take him, so relaxed and at ease he nearly forgets the muzzle. It’s a good thing Danta’s here, though, because at least someone has the forethought to make sure they have as peaceful of a night as they realistically can.

Humming a noncommittal sound to hear his lover’s decision, the butcher doesn’t even move as Danta retrieves the muzzle, shifting only when his mind catches up with the rest of his body, lulled into the exhaustion that courses through his body and the relaxation of his muscles. He twists enough onto his side to let Danta slide the muzzle on, eyes opening only a fraction of the way and bleary eyed at best, waiting until he’s done before he’s snagging at him to tug him in against him to wrap around.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Grinning as he helps to fasten the leather and metal around the butcher's jaw, Danta can't help but find it endearing to hear Asta try to keep up the conversation despite losing his fight with sleep. He might have asked him to keep talking just so he can hear his accent wrap around the words until he drifts off, but no sooner has he given the muzzle an experimental tug (for safety, you understand) when the other man is drawing him in against his chest, and the Maverick goes without complaint.

"Sleep well," he purrs, hooking one of his legs across his waist and nestling into the crook of his shoulder. Danta falls into a doze breathing in the scent of sweet almonds and shea, of smoke and honey and blood, and he couldn't be more comfortable for it.

It doesn't last, unfortunately.

He can't say what causes the shift in his subconscious towards dreams, and bad dreams at that - perhaps Asta moves in his sleep or there's a sound from outside - but either way, Danta inhales a sudden, shuddering breath and jolts awake hard. Caging the cry that wants to escape his throat behind a clenched jaw and balling his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, he starts to move only to realise the subject of his nightmare is still wrapped around him.

For a second the Maverick can only remember sharp teeth, blood and pain and dark eyes void of any recognition, and he falls deathly still, as if any sudden movements might set Asta off.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

He fully does intend on sleeping well, with the scent of sage and citrus underlining the almond, shea, hints of wintergreen flaring up now and then. It drags him under almost as swiftly as the warm press of Danta’s back meets his scarred front. But, luckily (or unluckily) for them, the butcher doesn’t sleep too deep tonight.

There’s no dreams, but the peaceful black bliss of sleep that he wakes from when he feels Danta jolt. Blinking awake blearily with the muzzle fastened perfectly in place and no panic to get it off, there’s just the sudden awkwardness of Danta being so horribly still that he knows something’s off.

But what, he can’t really tell.

So he shifts, releasing Danta slightly to prop himself up on his good arm, looking him over for a moment. “Darling?” He asks in a quiet whisper, enough that his accent folds over the words, hoarse and gravelly from sleep. “Is everything alright?” It’s still quiet just in case Danta’s sleeping, not wanting to wake him up as he takes a moment to ensure the muzzle is on and he hasn’t magically done some amount of damage despite feeling it there.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Danta's breath hitches as he feels Asta move, the Maverick holding it in his chest while the butcher situates himself, and only as he hears the rough and sleepy tones of his voice hit the air does he let himself release it in a shivering sigh. "I... yeah. I just... I had a nightmare," he explains in a voice that's a bit too quick, a bit too dismissive. The fire had gotten low in their time asleep, leaving them mostly in candlelight, and Danta doesn't bother to draw it back up as he shuffles to get upright as well.

"Sorry for waking you," he adds, swallowing around a dry throat and glancing around for the wine as if that might make things better. Almost without realising, his hand has gone to his forearm and the slip of silk he's taken to tying around it to cover the mark where he'd been bitten not all that long ago. The wound itself is long since healed, the bruises faded to nothing, but the scar is still pink and obvious, and Danta prefers not to look at it.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

There’s tension when the butcher moves, he can feel it in Danta’s otherwise pliable skin. The answer is too fast, too quick, and he finds himself frowning in the lowlight of the candles. Glancing around for a moment and spotting the wine, he also spies a small canteen of water he kept up here. Reaching for it instead, he sits up more fully so that he can hand it to his lover with a small “I’m sorry.”

The apology only goes so far, though, because as he hears the apology, his dark gaze does spot the way his lover’s hand goes to the silk slip over his arm, of the space he’d bit him not that long ago and his stomach sinks, filling full with dread and self deprecation. “You do not need to apologize.” He hums softly, hoping that the sleep in his voice distracts from the quiet upset at himself, even if his next question cements it.

“Was it me?” He can guess, and whether Danta lies to him or not, the butcher seems as if he already knows.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"It's okay. It happens," Danta says with a small smile, still unable to properly look at Asta even with the silver of the muzzle shimmering in the candlelight, proving that it's still in place. Only when he offers out the canteen of water does he glance at him fully, reaching out to gratefully take it without necessarily moving any closer. Taking a long, steadying drink before capping the canteen and setting it down again, the Maverick draws one knee up to his chest, resting his silk-tied arm upon it and frowning at the question he knows doesn't really need an answer.

Nevertheless, they're beyond lying to one another he thinks, and they have been since that night in Haulani when everything had bubbled over. "Yeah," he admits in a soft, guilty voice, gazing somewhere over the side of the mezzanine. "It isn't... this isn't the first time. But I'm normally alright. I just wait for it to pass and fall back asleep. I'm sorry."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

It happened to the both of them, that’s true. But it still didn’t make it okay, to be plagued at varying nights when their subconsciouses got the best of them. Maybe it was a cruel joke, that despite the attempts to do better and how in love they were, that this would still be a rift. And Asta, who had admitted to Danta in the past that he didn’t delve in relationships, had very much opted to be alone, specifically because of this.

He doesn’t want to be the villain in Danta’s story anymore. And yet he finds himself there with or without his knowledge relatively often.

He remains where he is, kneeling in the blankets, hornless and tailless and not crowding Danta’s space as he closes himself off when he answers the statement he already knows to be true. “Don’t be.” He repeats, reaching out to gently rest the soft palm of his hand against Danta’s shoulder. “It isn’t your fault.” It was his fault, after all. He was the one that bit him, regardless if the Maverick knew better or not. “I am so very sorry, Danta.”

He was nothing more than a feral dog, most nights.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Taking a few slow, deep breaths to let himself properly come down from the feral and shadowed version of Asta that had hunted him in his dreams, it's another minute or two before Danta can properly look at the butcher again, but at least when he does, this time it's with his usual warmth and affection. "Don't be stupid," he whispers, a soft smile tugging at his lips as his hand comes up to brush across the back of Asta's knuckles.

"I forgave you the second it happened. Probably before you even properly woke up." Shifting to his knees to close the distance between them, if Danta has to bully his way into his lover's lap then so be it, the Maverick leaning in to touch his forehead against his own. "We're both still figuring this out. And I know I'm not afraid of you, no matter what I might dream about."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

He isn’t looking at Danta when he responds, even if the warmth is there in his voice, a return to the previous man he knew. Instead, the butcher silently beats himself up, cursing himself silently for the fact Danta buries it, hides it away to return to the carefree man he knew. He hates that he has to do that, and if it takes the rest of the butcher’s life to improve himself to make sure Danta doesn’t feel threatened in the night, he will.

His dark gaze flits to Danta when he feels the warm brush against his knuckles, opening up automatically for Danta to invade his space. Because as much as he beats himself up, there’s always room for the Maverick. His arms wind around him easily, his dark gaze focusing up on the beautiful blues of his lovers briefly before their foreheads touch and he closes his eyes with a quiet slow exhale. “I’m glad you’re not afraid.” He murmurs softly, spreading his hands out along Danta’s lower back, forcing some fire to coax into his bones. “You can talk about it, if you’d like?” Perhaps giving him pointers on how not to act might help dissuade Danta’s mind from the nightmares that plagued him.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //