[SE] love you 'til I rust

// you knew who I was //

"Sorry," Danta mumbles automatically, smiling a quick kiss against Asta's palm before he lets his fingers drop away from the rough scar tissue that encircles the other man's wrist. "I'll get you something nice to cover them up, if you like." Settling properly to clean away the blood on the butcher's face, he scoffs and playfully grabs at his chin as his endless smile makes it more difficult.

"Oh gods no. You couldn't pay me to leave home again tonight," he says, nodding towards the window where, behind their heavy drapes, he can hear the steady lashing of rain that hasn't stopped even for a moment while they've been hiding themselves away. "But I did think we could get drugged and dressed and go downstairs for something. Let everyone know we're home and all that."

Business as usual can resume tomorrow afternoon, though, once they've gone to Frey's Breath and properly pampered themselves. (And hopefully not added any new bruises to the mix).

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

“Don’t be.” Comes the softer hum, the hint of Whitebrim coming out as Danta’s hand falls away from his wrist. “I have gotten very used to being touched, especially by you. Those are just…” Not tender, of course, Dygra had healed him of these wounds. “I suppose it is like the ones I gave you in the Climb.” The ones that put you in your place.

He can’t elaborate it, though, as Danta snags his chin – so he calms down and lets his expression relax – his eyes dark but surprisingly more open, absent of his usual ego or arrogance, a brief view into the man beneath the charm. It remains even as he snorts softly, listening to the rain as it pelts the window and the exterior of the Dusklight. “Then I would think the blood is presentable, no?” Inspiring more fear and perhaps longing from those that are more masochistic if the butcher swanned down there with blood stained to his lips.

It doesn’t matter in the end, anyway, because Danta finally has a chance to clear up the rest of the blood clinging to his face right in time for him to lean in and steal a softer kiss – gratitude and appreciation wrapped into the soft press of his lips before he withdraws to speak. “That is a lovely plan, though. I did bring them over.” The pain killers, that is, using his freehand to reach around the items blindly until he lands on the bottle and lifts it with a tell-tale shake to hear the pills dance within it.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"I know what you mean," Danta says softly. He doesn't look at or care about his scars very much, not unless it's to preen over the butcher's latest poetry against his throat, but he'd be lying if there weren't a few nicks or marks that he can still feel long after the damage had been dealt. And yes, a couple of those had been put there by his lover, too, if not under much difference circumstances.

Finishing up with the cloth until Asta is as sharp and handsome as ever - sans blood, of course - where once Danta would have found it difficult to hold his gaze like this, now he can't stop his smile to see the butcher so open. "It might be, but maybe I'd like a few less eyes on you tonight than usual," he purrs, reaching out to tease a lock of hair back where it belongs against the oilslick darkness of his horns.

Having to stop himself from toppling into the kiss pressed to his lips lest they tumble into the sheets never to emerge, Danta is distracted by the rattle of the pills suddenly in Asta's hand, huffing out a laugh and sitting back. "You're very good," he says, reaching for the pitcher of water and a glass from their bedside table and pouring a little for them to share. "Alright then," he says, "let's get medicated and dressed and find out what we missed while we were gone."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

It was one of those things that they both understood enough that they didn’t really need to talk about it. Even if sometimes it was good to talk about it. The butcher feels like this is one of those times and to hear that he understands as much, it alleviates any of the briefly there apprehension in his mind over having mentioned it.

It gives him the ability to meet his lover’s gaze without hesitation, without the guard that was the most common addition to the butcher’s day to day. He thinks the last time he was like this wholly sober had been that time he’d confessed a bit too much at the Sparkbird’s Nest and inadvertently pushed Danta away. Now, though, he doesn’t worry about it – not as his free arm shifts to wrap around his shoulder as his other seeks out the pills. “Feeling territorial, darling?” He asks as they part from the kiss, his now clean lips quirking into a smirk.

Allowing the arrogance to make an appearance again to hear that he’s very good, the butcher hums a note of agreement as he gives him the room to snag the pitcher and a glass. He busies himself with the pain pills, pulling out a dose for each of them. “Shall we match our outfits to further sell the point?” He asks with a smirk, handing Danta his dosage before he waits for him to take his sip and hand the glass over – his tail sweeping contently over the furs.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"Mm, very much so," Danta decides idly as he surrenders the glass to Asta for him to take his dose of painkillers - promptly following it up with his own, though arguably the other man's bone deep bruises are likely to cause more of an issue than the lingering, bandaged wound on his neck. "You don't have the monopoly on it, after all. Though you are very skilled at jealousy."

Winking playfully and reaching out to very gently pinch at the butcher's cheek, Danta lets out a long, content sigh and hums his interest at coordinating their respective outfits to head down into the Dusklight. "What a shame you ruined that robe of mine. I'd have worn that if not." And nothing else, he doesn't bother to add.

Instead, after waiting a few minutes for the drugs to start working, Danta peels himself out of bed at last to go and rifle through his belongings for something to wear. "I vote for something comfortable today," he decides - particularly important for Asta's bruises, too. As such, he's already holding up a forest green sweater as if to ask if this would work.

For him, he means, despite the item clearly belonging to the butcher, but when has that ever stopped Danta?

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

“Oh, no.” He says with a soft chuckle as he takes the glass, downing his dosage with a sip of water and offering it out in case Danta wished to finish the rest of the water. “I love seeing you get possessive.” It absolutely was more of the butcher’s thing, which made it all that much sweeter when Danta felt the tug of it.

For now, though, the smile remains on his face even as his cheek is pinched playfully, snorting and rolling his eyes to hear about how much of a shame it was that he’d burnt the robe to ash. “You have three other favorites if it is a robe you wish to wear.” And nothing else, as he rightly knows already.

He lingers in the bed as the drugs begin to work, however, sinking to prop himself up on his elbow as he scans the Maverick while he rummages through his clothes. As he plucks up the forest green sweater, the butcher’s horned head tilts as he regards it – knowing intimately just how soft that item of clothing was. “It is the softest one I own. Quite comfortable, darling.” He confirms with a nod of his head, fully expecting it to be the piece of clothing Danta has chosen for him to wear – going so far as to straighten up and stand so he can get dressed.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"I'm glad to hear you say so, because I'm not entirely sure I can stop it." Grinning and finishing the water before padding away to rummage around for clothes, Danta groans dramatically at Asta's (perfectly valid) point about his robe collection. "Yeah but none of them have crows on them," he complains, before he's holding up the sweater for perusal.

Smiling to hear the approval, evidently Danta isn't going to give Asta much time to realise the error in his thinking, because as the butcher straightens up as if to get dressed, the Maverick is pulling said sweater straight over his head. Still glamoured, his head pops through the opening with little trouble, revealing his smug and smiling face as he realises how correct the other man is. "It's very soft," he agrees, mussing his red-tinged hair so it sits into something like a style (with that complicated braid still half complete).

"What goes with green?" he wonders as he grabs up a pair of dark slacks (these ones actually do belong to Danta, at least). "Another type of green?"

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

“Mm, well, I did ask how much you preferred it before I destroyed it. You gave me a nonanswer, darling.” He purrs with a smirk, straightening up to step over to Danta to collect the green sweater only to stop short with a huffed laugh of surprise when Danta’s head pops through the neckline. Surprise coats his face briefly before he tames it, forcing himself to step over to search through their clothes for something that may match but might be more of Danta’s style – because obviously that’s what they’re doing now, right?

Humming a note of agreement to Danta’s question, he snags a shirt that has some green writing on it. “Black, green, golds, silvers, whites. What did you have in mind?” He lists off the color palette before he’s holding up the shirt he’d snagged to his chest, looking at Danta to see what his thoughts are. The shirt itself is one that would cling to skin, with green writing spanning the chest that says DADDY in all caps – not that the butcher fully understands the reference. “Is this yours?” Because he’s fairly confident it isn’t his. Though where Danta would wear it, he doesn't know.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"Ugh, shut up with your good points," Danta is complaining, and he'd throw his head back dramatically for good measure if it wouldn't hurt. "I'm going to go to your tailor and ask for a new one, and this time I'm going to see if I can make it fireproof." He makes it sound like a threat but in reality it's probably a good idea in general, the Maverick buttoning his slacks and having to push up the sleeves of Asta's sweater so it doesn't drown him.

"Mm, I don't know," he admits as to what he had in mind. "I was thinking--" Of course, at that moment he glances over at the entirely wrong (right?) moment to see Asta holding a DADDY shirt up against himself, and for a long few seconds, the Maverick's mind turns to static.

Blinking unhelpfully at the other man with his mouth having fallen open. "Not that one," he snaps quickly, rushing across the room as if to cover the wording with both of his hands. "Not tonight, not when I already want to throw things at people who look at you."

Blushing furiously and stuffing the offending shirt away, he eventually offers out something gauzy and black with fine green threading on the sleeves and collar. "This one?" Or literally anything else?

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Shooting a grin over at Danta to hear him complain about the word battles the butcher often indulges in, he chuckles softly to hear the threat of making it fireproof. “Mm, I do love a challenge.” He purrs playfully, watching as he tugs the sleeves up so it’s oversized sweater chic before he busies himself searching for something similar.

Not realizing the implications of it, he scans Danta’s face as he takes in the shirt – pausing to glance down at it in a touch of confusion. Looking back at the Maverick to spy the open mouth and the blank look in his gaze, he tilts his head slightly as he goes to lower the shirt right as Danta covers the wording with both of his hands, pressing back against his chest in the process. “Ha, alright.” Not really sure why, but fully adoring the idea of Danta throwing things at anyone that looks at him, he gives up the shirt to be stuffed away for later and waits patiently for the next option.

It's gauzy and dark, with the glinting matching green along the collar and sleeves has him humming immediate approval. “Lovely, darling.” Taking it, he slips it on, each arm slipping into the sleeve before he buttons it up almost all of the way – leaving a portion of his scarred chest on display if only so the chest isn’t so tight around his sore shoulders. “For what it is worth, I would love to see you throw things at people.” He smirks over his shoulder, snagging a dark pair of trousers to slip on.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

Narrowing his eyes at the challenge Asta accepts when it comes to his robe-to-be, Danta would love to continue arguing and sassing about it with the butcher, but alas, he's distracted by trying not to have the other man parade around as the Dusklight Daddy this evening. He can barely handle the thought of it, so the rest of the place has no chance, and it's a marked relief when Asta accepts the alternative and allows him to stuff the shirt away for later.

"Very good," he rumbles, dragging his composure back together more or less and feathering his hands through his hair to get it into some semblance of order, trying to decide whether or not he leaves his glamour up for the expedition downstairs. The rest of the Dusklight rarely sees him with it in place, but ultimately he's distacted from dropping it by Asta's remark.

Grinning, Danta crosses the room to walk gentle fingers up the length of the butcher's spine to the nape of his neck. "Then who am I to deny you such a simple pleasure?" He purrs. "I'll make sure it isn't anything heavy, though. Not unless someone pisses us off. Shall we?"

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Fireproof does not meet shred proof – but that’s something they will just have to deal with at a later date. For now, he’s too swept up in the reaction he receives for such an appearingly mundane shirt that the butcher happily takes note of where it’s been stuffed (obviously for later), so he can finish getting the newly chosen shirt over his head and to blot out the bruises, alongside dark pants and dark shoes to match. He doesn’t decorate himself with the silver jewelry he often did if he dressed up like this, but he does slip on a belt with a silver buckle in lieu for it.

Straightening to feel the Maverick’s fingers trail up his spine to his neck, he shoots a shark-toothed grin over at the Theocrat with a knowing glimpse of mischief in his gaze. “Who are you to deny me, darling?” He wonders with amusement, lips quirking before he sweeps his arm around his middle, ushering lightly toward the door with the promise of dinner in the air, his tail sweeping out with idle flicks of contentment. "What makes a not heavy item to throw here, mm?" The prospect of ruining the raging party downstairs was admittedly something he’s a touch too interested in – even as they start the descent down into the hustle and bustle of it. And even still, he doesn’t let his hold of Danta go, because as far as he’s concerned, he isn’t working. Not unless something big happens.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"Enough," Danta hisses playfully; they've just managed to get back on their feet and dressed without Asta teasing his clothes off all over again. The butcher's arm around his waist is more than enough to keep him close, and they head for the door and down into the belly of the Dusklight together. "Oh, you know," Danta drawls as they go, his voice lilting with amusement, "drinks, menus, throw pillows. I bet some of the barstools are pretty light too if I feel spicy."

Asta isn't working, no, so as they step into the heat and noise of the main floor, there's absolutely no reason for any of the rowdier customers to sit up and take notice. But they do anyway, and it's with a lazy salute to the bartender and a gesture to one of the booths that Danta slinks over so they can take a seat. "At least down here you'd never know it was raining," he remarks, sidling into sit and not bothering to order drinks, knowing they'll already be on their way.

"What can the fine establishment tempt you with tonight?" he wonders, idly flicking through the specials in the menu.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Snorting to hear Danta’s hiss and a touch surprised there’s no swatting at him for the tease, the butcher settles in easily beside the Maverick as they make their grand arrival. “Oh, I vote throw pillows then bar stools. The perfect explosion of feathers.” All the down and the way they’d float around the Dusklight, sticking to people, food, and drinks alike.

It’s a pretty daydream even as the butcher shoots an apologetic smile toward the bartender for his snapping earlier, releasing Danta once the booth comes upon them and taking a moment to glance over towards those within who’s backs have certainly straightened given their appearance. Satisfied enough for the moment, the butcher doesn’t sit across from the Maverick but instead chooses the same seat, crowding in to let his long legs stretch out beneath the table. “Thank gods for that. Perhaps it is enough to pretend it is not a nightmare out there.” It’s enough for him to not care about, focused instead on the menu as he plucks it up to peruse, long thin fingers spiderwebbing out against the back of it as he scans it.

“Hmm, well, it appears the Flowerbirth menu is in full swing.” He muses, head tilting slightly toward Danta as he murmurs each one of them as he lists them. “Quiches, citrus pastas, salads…” He frowns a touch with the mention of a salad, before he continues. “This honey baked rabbit does not sound bad.” Complete with your choice of sides (of course this was the Dusklight; so if there was anything they wanted that was feasible they likely would get it if they asked. Perks, obviously.

“What do you think, darling?” He asks, turning his full attention back over to Danta as his tail curls around the blondes leg.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //