don't need love when it comes in a bottle

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

As the relief floods through the Maverick, the butcher relaxes with it too. The kiss is pressed and prolonged until Danta’s ready to part and he happily drowns himself in the taste of ash and wine and sage. It helps bolster that cockiness and arrogance when he purrs his announcement – that the plan is a birthday gift, even if the Maverick had just indulged in his trip to King’s End. And while he’s not in a position to flare up protectively about said trip to the Flood’s House of Midnight, the butcher’s smile twists a touch sharper.

“You are allowed to have multiple birthday gifts.” He informs him in case he’s forgotten, nuzzling in to feel the kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth, waiting with a held breath to see if he does want him to indulge him – and just as expected, the butcher knows he can keep some portions of the birthday a secret, but at least he would have a moment where he could be completely surprised. “I am taking you on a hunt.” He purrs, his tail sweeping forward to wrap around the Maverick’s legs, tucking him a little tighter against his lap as the fire flicks out from the fireplace to kiss their cheeks. “It was my original plan, but alas I had to wait for the timing to be just right.” Which, if Danta puts two and two together as he usually does, he’d note that I was a combination of the butcher’s healing and the fact that they did have a unique prisoner within the jails (one that was not simply jailed for a petty crime).

"What do you think?" He asks, tilting his head slightly as his smile softens, peering down at him with dark eyes that flood with the heat of the fire into molten honey, half lidded with his confidence that it'll be a great birthday gift. An even better one, too, because he gets to be a part of it.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"Asta, I forgot it was my birthday this season until you just mentioned gifts," Danta reminds the butcher sweetly, his smile growing crooked as he feels the other man press into the kiss he's snuck to the corner of his mouth. "But you're right, of course. And if you want to insist on spoiling me, then who am I to say no?" Not to mention he's in absolutely no position to do anything but say yes, especially given the state Asta has just found him in outside.

A hunt sounds right up both of their streets at least, Danta laughing quietly as he's tucked more tightly against his lover - something he's got no complaints about. "I am already looking forward to it," he purrs; and that's even before Asta makes his remark about the timing, and yes, the Maverick is a smart enough cookie to put two and two together on that front.

"I think that sounds perfect. Thank you," he murmurs softly, his hand raising to cup the butcher's jaw, thumb grazing across his cheekbone. "It'll be nice to spend some time with you when you're not hurt and I'm not losing my marbles," he admits through a scoff of laughter that's nevertheless far too sincere to truly be a joke.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The reminder is met with a blink of understanding and a touch of amusement, snorting softly to hear it even if the result is solely to spoil the other Ancient. “You know how I love to spoil, my love.” He hums, settling in to tell him what the plans were. The details he keeps close to his chest, as he typically did, but with enough context he knows that the Maverick would come more than prepared – just as he always tended to when they made plans like this.

And how for the rest of forever (at least it would feel like it) that the butcher would be finding hidden knives all over Danta’s person. “Good. As am I.” Selfishly getting to participate and unleash in a way that he hasn’t in some time, even with the reminder of the boundaries the Maverick had set. There hadn’t been enough unsuspecting people out and about, unfortunately for the cannibal, but now there’s one primed and ready for an escape attempt that he knows will not end the way the prisoner wishes it would.

That isn’t his problem, however. So when he hears Danta’s gratitude, he tilts his head into the hand that cups his bearded cheek, blinking slowly as he feels the gentle stroke of his thumb. “You are very welcome.” He pauses, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips to hear the sincerity in the jest. “I will do my best to be good next season. For the both of us.” Even if this season he’d felt far more feral than he had in seasons, he’d gone a little too hard.

Shifting slightly, he twists toward Danta to swoop his free hand now under the legs draped across his lap. "Shall we return to bed, darling?" He asks, leaning forward to nuzzle obnoxiously into his lover's space.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"Mm, I do know that. It's something you've passed on to me," Danta admits with a smirk. Not entirely true - having come from starvation and nothing, all of the Maverick's pursuits in Caido have been rooted in hedonism and decadence ever since, but Asta has definitely encouraged him to direct it towards other people rather than just himself.

Drawing the other man closer for a kiss just for the sake of being able to do it - and also, perhaps, to cement this version if Asta in his mind rather than the ghoulish, fiery spectre he'd been faced with back at the festival - as he feels the other man shift, Danta's arms loop around him automatically. "Gods, yes," he groans, as if able to already feel the plush softness of the mattress beneath his body.

"And you know," he adds, "for an inn that's so creepy, this is actually a really cozy place." Sure, he's certain the eyes in some of the paintings are following them and he's not entirely convinced the runes carved around the fireplace are just for show, but all in all, they've spent nights in much worse places.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“It is not a bad trait to have.” He informs his lover – nearly matter of fact, even if Asta was the epitome of I’ll give plenty of people gifts but so help me god if I know how to react if you give me one. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s Danta’s birthday season and he can tamper himself down enough now to hopefully make it less intense and overindulge in the love language he pushes onto everyone else.

He indulges and sinks into the kiss even if he’s prepping mentally to carry Danta back to the bed – soaking in the warmth and flame that soaks into their bones like they’re little heat rocks sure to singe the blankets when they lay upon them. And only when he gets the confirmation that the Maverick does wish to go back to the bed, does he scoot a little out of the fireplace so that he can make it easier to rise with Danta in his arms.

A warm and soft laugh leaves him, vibrating through his chest as he takes the few steps it takes to get to the bed, setting the Maverick down within the blankets before he crawls in with him, unable and unwilling to part from Danta for even a split second. “It is a lovely place.” He agrees softly, not finding the creepiness as a turn off from the space. But it does bring up another question that’s sat in his gut, biding his time until Danta’s settled in the blankets and bed with him.

“Can I ask you.. Is it the Dusklight that has become a bearer of bad feelings and thoughts for you? Or is it the memories that lie therein?” He asks softly, as if unsure if he wanted to say anything at all. He goes so far as to tilt his head into the pillows, giving Danta a moment of privacy to be able to talk without being stared at.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

Grinning and tilting his head to rest it against Asta's chest to hear the laughter that comes rumbling out of him, only as he rises properly to his feet does Danta shift enough to make himself easier to carry, tail curling around the other man's waist as if to anchor himself in place as they go. "We should stay here more often, make sure it gets enough revenue to stay open," he quips as he's settled back among the blankets, even if he's quite sure, actually, that the Talism-Inn somehow receives enough visitors to get by.

Waiting for Asta to join him in bed, only then does Danta crawl his way beneath one of the butcher's arms, melting against his side and nosing against the warm column of his throat. Letting out a long, content sigh, he almost expects their conversation to drift into the light murmur of nothingness until they're asleep, so to hear the trepidation in the other man's voice is a surprise to say the least.

Brows drawing together, Danta gazes up at her lover as he considers his response. "The memories," he says slowly, quietly, however good or bad that answer might be for Asta. "Monsters in the Backrooms, nightmares in our den, the smell of your blood all over the bar..." It's been a lot in a short space of time to say the least.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Ooh, yes. We should.” He agrees – already planning that perhaps after Danta’s birthday hunt that they might return here rather than their room. And perhaps by then, a new doll in the window will look quite a bit like the Theocrat. It’s a thought that bolsters him as they get settled into the bed, a tangle of limbs and tails until they’ve found a space to rest.

The warmth of Danta’s face pressed in against his neck and jaw, under his arm as he holds him close and rests his cheek against his lover’s crown as the question escapes him. Hearing the answer, though, and the slight shift that he can tell is Danta peering at him, the butcher’s gaze slits open slightly and he looks back at him with a softer glint to his gaze. “Do you think it will get better?” He asks quietly, another probing question before his tail curls around Danta’s leg as if to prove to him he’s with him for the answer regardless of what it might be. “I am sorry that it has so many bad recollections.” He apologizes, tucking his chin a little to better look at Danta, his hand rising to stroke along his sharp cheek with a calloused thumb.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"...I hope so," Danta says softly of the Dusklight, frowning as he considers it with more thought than expected, the Maverick leaning into the cradle of Asta's hand against his cheek. "And I'm sorry, too. Maybe we just need to make an effort to fill it with better memories. It's a brothel, for fuck's sake - it should be all good memories." Smirking and turning his head to affectionately nip at Asta's thumb, he lets out a long sigh and burrows himself back in against the butcher's neck.

Not just a brothel, even - the Dusklight is his home and his office and a place to let off steam. It's exactly the place he'd meant for it to be, and while in a moment of drunken crisis it had felt like the worst place in the world, he's not ready by far to be done with it. "This was a good idea, though," he adds, voice barely beyond a whisper. "Not going back there just this second. You did everything right."

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“I hope so, too.” He murmurs softly, his thumb dragging gentle little lines along the sharp edge of his lover’s cheekbone. His fingertips thread into golden strands of his hair, soft and gentle like he’s holding something precious because he absolutely is. “You do not have to be sorry, Wasp.” He purrs softly, snorting to feel the nip at his finger, shifting to make room for him to nuzzle in against his neck.

As for the Talism-Inn, the butcher hums and snorts a note of agreement. His hand drops from the Maverick’s cheek to his shoulder, brushing his fingers along his neck in idle swoops. “Thank you.” He’ll take the praise regardless – he’s the same man in many ways, after all. “I did not think taking you back to the scene of the crimes, essentially, would be a good idea.” He admits, tilting his head to press a kiss to his forehead. “Perhaps in hindsight we should have a separate meeting place for if things are bad.” That isn’t the Dusklight. It wouldn’t help the nightmares, but it would have helped everything else.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

Smiling at the pride he can practically feel puffing up in Asta's chest in response to his compliment, Danta tilts his head into the fuss along the side of his neck and shoulder, stretching an arm across the butcher's waist and relaxing bonelessly against him. He's forever surprised at how something this simple can make him feel so safe, easing the knots of anxiety that have been coiled tight in his chest all evening.

"Mm, a separate place like where?" he wonders, curiosity lacing his tone and his head lifting just enough to accept the kiss to his forehead like a feline magnanimously allowing affection. "Also, that would assume that either of us are clever enough to think to go there when the other person doesn't come home on time, or some other crisis." And he frowns at that, hating the idea of Asta staggering to their chosen meeting place after a journey like the one he'd taken from the Greatwood, only for Danta to not be there.

"No," he decides softly. "No, we keep to the Dusklight. Maybe we just try to have a lot of good things there for a while, mm?"

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

He will never complain to hear a compliment – especially ones directed at him. So when he presses into the space along his neck and shoulder and relaxes, finally relaxes, the butcher finds the tension coiled in his muscles start to loosen as well. Happily content and warmed by the fire to remain tangled with his lover, the butcher’s voice is soft when he hums a thoughtful little sound. “That is true.” He says to the latter comment, because the first he murmurs a soft little; “I had not thought that far, admittedly.” It comes out a little sheepish as he tilts his head to press his jaw into Danta’s crown of gold, deftly evading any diamond spikes from the Maverick’s horns.

At the answer, though, the butcher nods slowly – a soft motion that has the pressure to move some of Danta’s hair in the process as his fingers continue to swoop soft little designs into the space between his neck and shoulder. “We need to not forget the good, either, when it does happen.” He confirms, shifting his head a little before he draws up his glamour to nestle into the pillows a bit more. The horns vanish and drop strands of dark hair into his face, the tail vanishing from being wrapped around Danta’s leg.

“Where would you like to start for the good, my darling?” He asks, nosing his way in for another affectionate kiss to his brow.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"Mm, that's why they pay me the big bucks," Danta purrs, laughter threading through his words, his smile something Asta will be able to feel against his throat. Granted, as theocrat he has never been particularly good at thinking even one step ahead, and whilst that is likely never to change, when it comes to the butcher, perhaps he's able to screw his head on a little tighter.

Smiling again, more softly this time, at the unintentional mantra Asta has introduced to him - don't forget the good - as Danta feels the other man's tail vanish from around his leg he soon follows suit with his own glamour, if only so he can nuzzle his head properly into the crook of his neck. "Mm, there's plenty of it if you look hard enough," he agrees, fingers stroking gently against the butcher's chest and ribs, mapping out more faint scars not caused by gore crow talons.

Humming thoughtfully at the question, eyes briefly closing against the kiss to his brow, Danta is quiet for a few moments before blinking up at Asta and arching a brow. "Didn't Charlie win a bet against us some time last year, where we said she could dress us up however she liked? That should be close to the top of the list," he decides with a laugh. "But between you and I? Gods, let's spend some good old fashioned time being ourselves, shall we?"

Asta lurking in his finery in the shadows of the Dusklight, Danta tending the bar and sending visitors off to fulfil their wildest fantasies, drinks and chaos and banter - the sort of normality he doesn't realise he's come to miss.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Ah, I see.” The butcher hums with a soft little laugh that’s breathier than it is a true laugh, lest he jostle Danta where he’s settled in against his torso. Amusement lingers in the smile lines of his face, settling in easier when the lack of diamond horns become a threat. He adjusts slightly to make room against his neck for the Maverick’s nuzzle. There is plenty of good if they looked hard enough and it gives him a few moments of quiet as he indulges in the featherlight touch against silvered scar tissue as he thinks further on it.

Perking up as the hand at Danta’s neck lowers along his sides, the butcher hums a thoughtful sound. “I had completely forgot about that.” He can’t hide the grin that he’s sure Danta can feel as well as see, a huff of a laugh leaving him. “Yes. We should reach out to her.” Involve her in the good memories of the Dusklight again. But when Danta mentions to spend time being themselves, he can’t help but to pull away a touch to peer down at his lover with an amused grin and glint to his gaze. “Being ourselves? My, you have started to settle, mm?” He arches a brow as his grin takes on something akin to roguish charm, a cheshire’s grin aimed at the Maverick as he takes it to heart and unleashes a touch of more normality of his own as opposed to the quiet apologies of before.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"So had I until I was thinking about the bar. She drank us under the table - I don't know where she put it all." Danta scoffs. The height difference alone should have given them an advantage, but Charlie was absolutely the last woman standing that night. "I'll see if she wants to come and hang out with us in a few days - give her a chance to get over the festival." Because while they might have caused drama and left early, he has no doubt that the little priestess remained and had the time of her life, rain or no rain.

Arching an eyebrow as he feels Asta pull away a bit, at first Danta thinks he's suggested something the butcher disagrees with. When he sees the first glint of that cheshire grin, though, his smile is easy and immediate, the Maverick elbowing him playfully in the ribs for good measure. "Well," he says with a haughty lift of his chin, "I am notoriously good at bouncing back from these sorts of things, you know."

Gaze softening a little, he does shift enough to roll over and blanket the other man, brushing his nose against Asta's. "I may have had quite a bit of help, though," he admits. From you, if that wasn't obvious.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now