[SE] black shades, white gloves

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

Spying Danta’s smile, Asta cools his own smile into something soft, tugging on the corners of his lips as he peruses the menu – reading each of the items aloud until he’s fully decided. “Ooh, please. That sounds divine.” Pausing as he sits up a little and sets the menu down, the butcher glances back around the bistro briefly before he lets his gaze land back on his lover, that small smile still lingering. “You are welcome to try some of mine as well.” Because what good was trying a variety of things in a bistro like this if they didn’t get the whole experience, right?

His thank you is met with a nod, warmth glittering in his gaze, lightened by the jeweled bonfire just outside the window. “You are welcome, darling.” He murmurs softly, his own tail slipping out to intertwine with Danta’s own once it’s brushed against his calf. “Thank you for putting this together and dragging me out of our room.” There’s honesty in his tone underlining the superficial sound of a jest. He would have hated to miss this, even if it meant getting up and out of bed where he’s been happily snoozing Deepfrost away.

When the waiter comes to take their order, the butcher takes the lead – asking for both of the wines and the entrees to start, before he settles in and reaches out to try and snag Danta’s hand to squeeze it gently. “If the food is half as good as it smells, this may take the number one spot of mine for favorite restaurants.”

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"Sounds like a plan to me," Danta purrs - evidently he's much happier to share his food in a restaurant setting than in the midst of his bloodlust, the Maverick's eyes dropping to their table setting with a smirk. "You might have to teach me what all these different forks are for, though," he says. "I wouldn't want to share a bite of your food with the wrong one."

Smiling more softly to feel Asta's tail curl around his own, he seems to relax subconsciously into his seat, gaze lifting back to the butcher's. "I would never let you snooze away all of Deepfrost," he says with a wink. "Don't get me wrong - I think you deserve all the sleep you can get. But there are some things worth celebrating this season too."

Surrendering his menu to the waiter as he swans over, Danta is more than happy to leave ordering to Asta, gazing out of the window at the falling snow and the merry bonfire beyond, blinking back to attention only as he feels the other man take his hand. It's a gesture that's so comparatively simple that it shouldn't mean so much, but the Maverick feels his cheeks heating nevertheless.

"I've got a feeling it will impress," he agrees. "And, you know, this wasn't just for your birthday. I wanted to take you out to say thanks for everything you've done this year, too." From their relationship to the region to the whole Thing with the gore crows, the least Danta can offer is a night off.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

“Mm, I can certainly do that.” Asta murmurs in answer to teaching Danta which fork goes to what. It’s paired with a soft chuckle, because they both know regardless of which fork he might choose to share his food with, the butcher would still eat it regardless – even if he knew the real purpose of said fork.

As he offers his own gratitude, though, he settles in with a gentle squeeze of his tail around the other Ancient’s, flashing a sharp smile. “Yes, that there is.” Things worth celebrating – like the fact they’d survived the grueling task that Leafchange had brought them with minimal difficulties. And now they get to just relax and enjoy themselves.

The waiter comes and he orders swiftly before handing off the menus and snagging Danta’s hands, thumbs stroking along the smooth and lightly silver scarred skin. “Oh? And here I was believing I was a menace for the majority of it.” His smile softens and twists a touch lopsided, tilting his head to the side where the chains fall and slip along the obsidian. “I have to thank you for putting up with me through it. I know I have a tendency to be intense at times.” They both can, but he won’t sit there and tell him thank you for putting up with me when the last time he had, Danta had said it was a similar things for Asta to put up with Danta.

They make a perfect pair, honestly.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"Oh, I'm quite sure you were." Danta grins. "But even if that was the case, you're my menace, whatever you're up to." Whether that's fighting him through a nightmare or snapping his teeth at people for getting too close, it doesn't make a difference to the Maverick. "And come, now. It was less putting up with and more helping you through it. You can always be as intense as you like with me." Winking at the butcher, Danta sits up, forcing his hand to slip out of Asta's, if only so he can make room for the wine that arrives.

The waiter spends a moment uncorking the rich red and allowing the butcher to taste it, before pouring them both a generous measure and leaving the bottle on the table for them to enjoy. Danta peers into the deep crimson liquid and lifts his glass, offering a surprisingly sunny smile towards the other man and holding out his wine for a toast. "Happy Birthday, Asta," he trills.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

Chuckling softly, he nods his head and exhales a soft sigh at the end of the laugh. “As you can also be with me.” It’s certainly been more him lately than it has been Danta, but he wouldn’t complain. They both get to have their moments and if they don’t have any issues, he wasn’t going to change anything.

The waiter arrives, however, and they straighten up and the butcher tests the red wine with a content hum of comfort that it brings. Satisfied, the glasses are filled and only once the waiter’s swanned himself away does the butcher’s gaze focus back on his lover, his smile softer and tinged with content as he lifts his glass to clink it against his lover’s for the toast. “Thank you, darling.” He hums softly before he takes a sip, relishing in the bold taste of it and the way it offers the slight sweet, full body taste of it lingering on his lips. “Forty-one this year. Still feeling quite spry, at least.” He teases himself, his soft smile breaking into a wide shark-tooth grin.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"Noted." Danta winks, as if filing that information away for the new year. Perhaps 320PC will be his turn for being intense and troublesome, who knows? Either way, he has no doubt that Asta will stick around to handle him (in whatever way that might be), and he clinks his glass quite contently against his lover's before taking a long, indulgent sip of wine. "Mm, good choice," he says, taking another sip before setting it down once again.

"Feeling spry and looking magnificent, if I do say so myself," he purrs, letting his eyes wander freely over the butcher in his finery, all glinting gold and emerald silk. "And you don't look a day over four hundred - or however long it was that we were stuck in the stone." Not something he plans to repeat either way.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

There’s a soft but warm laugh that leaves him as Danta notes it – sure that regardless of what the year is or the events that would happen, that they’d handle it just as well as they had this year. A learning curve for sure, still, but one the butcher wouldn’t trade for the world. “Thank you.” He tips his lover a wink, taking another sip of the glass and sets it down to let the robust, bold warmth of it fill him.

As Danta’s gaze drifts along him, though, he preens. His chest puffs out a little and he straightens up, flashing a sharper grin over toward the Maverick as he does the same – admiring briefly the crows feathers that are tucked neatly behind soft golden waves. “You did tell me to dress nice.” He hums, before his chin lowers slightly and he peers at Danta through long dark lashes, eyes still honey and warm. “Eh, leave it at centuries and let everyone else decide if we have been around for four hundred years or nine hundred.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “The mystery is part of the fun, darling.”

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

Unable to stop the grin that spreads across his face at the sight of Asta's preening, Danta makes sure to let his gaze linger on all his favourite places on the butcher's body - the curve of his jaw, the flash of his fangs, his broad shoulders and oh-so-clever hands - before letting out a long and satisfied sigh. "And you did not disappoint," he purrs, the tip of his tail brushing against the side of Asta's calf beneath the table.

"It is part of the fun, but I think at this point we've thoroughly blown our cover when it comes to what we are to one another, you know." Gone are the days where they would pretend at camaraderie and nothing more, even if the Dusklight is still used to seeing Asta as Danta's living shadow. "Not that I could care less," Danta adds, in case the butcher is worried he regrets it. (And he absolutely does not).

Forced to sit up properly once more as their food arrives, the Maverick is drawn instantly by the rich scents of meat and herbs, and the sweetness of the glaze on his scallops. He hasn't realised he's hungry - which is par for the course for Danta - but suddenly he's famished.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

He’d certainly aimed not to disappoint, so hearing the confirmation only makes his smile bloom brighter. The feel of Danta’s tail as it brushes against his calf again sparking more warmth and adoration into the bright smile. It lingers even as their present mystery appears to be more confirmation than anything else, not that Asta would complain either. And so he chuckles softly, inclining his head, chin tilting down ever so slightly. “That simply means it is more fun when they overstep.” And get to receive their punishment, obviously. If the writing was on the wall and they still chose to disobey it, well… That’s their own fault.

The food arrives, though, and the butcher straightens up with how he’s sitting – peering at the silverware that’s paired with their dishes. It smells phenomenal and looks just as beautiful too. And if this were a time and place where cameras existed, you bet your ass the butcher would’ve taken a photo of their meal before devouring into it.

But before they can even get that far, the butcher holds up the two separate forks that came with their meals, appraising each one and their tines to explain it to Danta. “Alright, darling. This one here is your traditional table fork. You can use this for the majority of your meal.” Pointing out the sleek, four tined fork, he sets it down to lift the three pronged fork paired with it. “This one is for fish.” Setting it down to pull up the last fork they’d been given, similar to the table fork but with a wider scalloped look. “And this one is for salads. It is rounder on the back than the table fork.” He gestures to the scalloped nature of the backside of the fork where the tines widen out with a finger and a sharp smile.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"I can only agree there. I do enjoy watching you go all Butcher of Whitebrim on people when they provoke you," Danta agrees, his smile tilting towards something absolutely adoring; strange considering he's thinking about Asta exacting violence on others. He's still clearly enjoying his own mental image as the food arrives, gaze flicking between the other man and their meals even as his stomach rumbles quietly.

And while Asta, in another world, would be taking photos of their food before they dig in, Danta is ever so close in this one to bypassing the forks entirely, and he blinks across at his lover as he holds them up as if being presented with something unnecessary. Still, he does his best to lock in to the lesson, nodding along at table fork and arming himself with it accordingly. Fish fork is placed on the plate with the scallops so he doesn't forget, but as for salad fork?

"There isn't any," he points out. "...So does that mean we just get to keep that one? Either way, are we allowed to eat now too?"

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

Chuckling warmly, the butcher flashes his lover a bright grin. “My favorite part is when they realize their mistake two seconds before I fully get into it.” He drawls, letting the thought flicker from him just as soon as it had come – even if Danta’s still quite focused on the idea of it. Their food arrives, and with it the little quiet lesson on which fork is for which portion of their meal.

And he knows that Danta could care less, but he’d promised to tell him the difference. And so when he settles in, his lips quirk into a smirk of amusement even if the lines at the corners of his eyes are a little deeper from his seasonal exhaustion. “You may eat, darling.” He hums, reaching forward to take the salad fork from the Maverick and to pluck his own from the table, stealthily slipping them up his sleeves to be snuck into his pocket later. “Technically no, regarding the salad forks. We do not get to keep them. They are nice, though.” He drawls like he didn’t just steal the two forks as he plucks up the table fork to delve into his meal a touch eagerly.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"That's my favourite part too," Danta purrs, flashing his fangs across at Asta. "Mainly because by then it's far too late for them to backtrack. Ah, I suppose I'll have to wait until Flowerbirth until you're awake enough for those sorts of shenanigans again." Not that he's complaining about the wait, not when he gets to see the butcher like this, and they're having such a good time without the rampant violence. (For now).

Watching with an avian tilt of his head as Asta makes the forks disappear up his sleeve, Danta can't stop the smile that curls at his lips, and he goes ahead to spear a bit of short rib on his (correct) fork. It falls easily away from the bone, and he wastes no time in tasting it, humming a note of near bliss as it touches his lips. Salad forks are the last thing on his mind as he nudges his plate at Asta in an almost demand that he try it; meanwhile, Danta takes up the fish fork to try and jab at one of the scallops.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

He’s always incredibly appreciative of the fact that they’re on the same page. Such that Asta snorts with a hint of concession when he dips his chin briefly before he’s stealing the forks to add a “That simply means that I shall hopefully have plenty of energy to burn on the first offender.” He lets his voice drop, the playful lilt while he ensures he’s snuck the forks into his sleeve to be slipped into his pants pocket later. It’s an effortless movement, like he’s done it before.

And then it’s time for him to delve into his own meal, the lamb falling from the bone with tender ease, moist and flecked with leaves of rosemary throughout. It melts on his tongue beautifully and maybe it’s his exhaustion that keeps him from hiding the hum of pleasure that escapes him at the brilliant mixture of flavors on his tongue. But as Danta nudges his plate at him, the butcher switches gears immediately (knowing perhaps better that if he doesn’t take the opportunity now that Danta would potentially eat all of it before he had a chance to).

So he takes a piece of short rib on his fork and devours it, humming a pleased note to realize it’s just as rich as his own, and while Danta busies himself with the scallops, the butcher’s piercing a piece of the roasted lamb onto his fork and handing it over to Danta to try next. “The short rib is lovely, darling.”

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

I wanna run against the world that's turning

"Mm, don't threaten me with a good time," Danta purrs, grinning as he offers out his meal for the butcher to try while he occupies himself with one of the scallops. The burst of buttery flavour on his tongue is only enhanced by the sweetness of the pomegranate glaze, and he sighs out a note of unexpected content. Asta is right, as usual - best to get all the tasting out of the way right now before the Maverick completely inhales his meal.

It's why he accepts the bite of lamb with deliberate care, as if they really are as civilised as they're playing at, Danta humming his approval and sitting back. "I think this is going to quickly become one of our favourite haunts," he admits with a grin. After that, though? There's no getting any small-talk out of the theocrat, not while there's food on their plates, and other than the soft murmur of voices around them, the clink of (the correct) cutlery and the flicker of the bonfire outside, both Ancients are left in comfortable silence.

Only when their plates are clean - or as clean as they want them to be - does Danta pipe up again, smiling wickedly at the other man. "I'm not sure if I want dessert or a nap," he confesses. "How are your stolen forks holding up? They didn't fall out of your sleeves?"

Dantalion

I'd move so fast that I'd outpace the dawn, I wanna be gone