[SE] I wanna show you something

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

“Lovely.” He nearly purrs at the confirmation of the plan – that it should be the combination of the time that the butcher isn’t as squirrely and aggressive as he is certainly at the beginning of the season.

Asta busies himself with the tea, however, before he’s handing the cup off to the Maverick and settling in to toast his own – a little less on the golden brown side, with a few pops of dark roasted bubbles forming that he looks forward to paired with the chocolate. “Oh, I stopped by when I prepped the reservation for our dinner.” He shoots him a cheshire’s grin, one that seems to say he’d hit two birds with one stone, before it turns mischievous in a heartbeat with his lover’s follow up comment.

He leans in sideways, shoulder pressing against the Maverick’s briefly. “Ahh, but we did accomplish quite a bit with one another, no?” The grin remains, even as he props up his pokers to snag the portions of graham cracker and chocolate to sandwich Danta’s smore’s into edible perfection, handing it back to him as a string of sticky marshmallow sticks to his finger in a long stretch.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

"Of course you did," Danta says with a quiet laugh, even as he turns to hold out his marshmallows to be squashed together with cracker and chocolate. "Not that I'm complaining," he adds, taking another sip of his tea before setting the cup down to focus on the mess smores they're making. And as Asta leans in to jostle him, the Maverick's laughter is wicked and unapologetic, Danta's eyes dark with the memory of all they'd done up in their room at Wildering House.

"We accomplished so much I think we might need another vacation to get over it," he says, taking his smore from the poker just in time to see the ooze of marshmallow clinging to Asta's fingers. "What am I going to do with you?" His chastising is playfully warm, Danta grinning and reaching to snag the other man's wrist so he can - of course - lean in and clean his fingertips with his tongue.

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

“I would hope not. Next season will be an adventure for us both.” The butcher says knowingly, trying his best to not let the laugh fully leave him, instead snorting softly under his breath as he helps squish the marshmallow between the two sides of the cracker to make the smores, watching as the marshmallow melts between the pieces, the chocolate dripping into the graham cracker in what appears to be the most delicious rustic looking smores he thinks he’s ever seen.

As the poker is removed, the butcher goes to hand his lover the smore, rolling his eyes playfully before Asta’s conceding his hand easily. A feat only truly afforded to the man sitting beside him. “Mm, well, I would hope that you will love me and take care of me even when my fingers get sticky.” He can’t help the smirk that blooms on his face, tugging on the corners as his eyes follow the trail of his fiance’s tongue that cleans off the marshmallow as he continues his playful little jest. "I know I can be a lot at times." It does take some effort though, marshmallows tend to be sticky beasts, but Danta gets it with only minor influence by the butcher – twisting his finger this way and that to help him.

Once he’s finished, though, the butcher’s hand twists around to cup his lover’s jaw and lean in to press a kiss to his lips, indulging in the brief taste of sweetness lingering there. “Alright, it is your turn now.” The butcher purrs against his lips, withdrawing to snag his pokers with the marshmallows that are more browned than Danta’s own had been.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

"Vacations can be adventures," Danta objects, his voice ridiculously muffled due to the butchers fingers in his mouth, and he (perhaps wisely) opts not to speak again until he straightens up, completed smores in hand and a saucer to set them down on until the rest are properly assembled. "I certainly plan to have one with you at the beginning of next season anyway. I'm quite confident in my ability to keep you entertained this year."

It's a boast, yes, and he'll likely live to eat those words, but for now Danta feels safe in his smuggery. "I will love you and take care of you even if you were a worm," he declares - and no, he doesn't give any context for that either, merely reaching out - armed with crackers and chocolate - to snap them around the marshmallows as if they are being devoured by them.

A feat made much less accurate, granted, by the sudden kiss pressed to his lips, and if Asta's smores have a bit more personality than intended, he only has himself to blame. "You can be a lot," he agrees, smirking and drawing back just enough to gaze up at the other man. "And I love it."

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

“That is why we require a vacation after our vacations.” He boasts a little proudly, despite the muffled approach Danta’s admission takes while he busies himself cleaning up the marshmallow. Asta smirks a bit wider to hear the smug confidence sat in his lover’s voice. “Oh I very much look forward to it darling, never fret.” He winks.

Ah, but the comment as he snatches up the marshmallow and the butcher leans in for the kiss distracts him to no end, withdrawing and unable to keep the laugh from leaving him as he backs up their conversation a touch to the reference about the worm. His head tilts, enough that a few dark strands fall into his face despite their finger combed attempt to stay back and tucked against his horns. “A worm?” He asks, and for a second Danta will be able to see the gears spinning in the butcher’s mind. “Are you foretelling me that I may have a lava wyrm shift one day?” Because as far as he could tell, Danta was the worm in this relationship.

And yes, Asta still loves him very much, even when he is a screaming, writhing, spitfire of a wyrm that bites surprisingly hard and screeches far louder than anything should.

Satisfied with his answer and the one that leaves Danta’s lips, the butcher’s smile is a touch more tender. “And I love you.” He hums with that same air of arrogance, the pride leaking from him as if he were the largest billboard on the side of the highway.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

Danta would like to tell Asta that he has never fret a day in his life, only it would be a fundamental lie first of all, and second he can't tell him a damn thing right now because he's shoved half a smore into his mouth. The result is that he can only offer the butcher a smug smile until he's able to speak again, though he does offer a cheerful few gestures as if to tell him how well their breakfast turned out.

"You haven't earned a lava wyrm shift," he announces once he's finally able to do so. "They're very exclusive, you know." In all their screeching spitfire glory and inability to be held properly by grasping hands - and of all people, Asta should be quite intimately familiar with it.

"Now eat your smore and drink your tea and say thank you to the fire," he continues, waving a hand imperiously even as he shifts position to stretch a long leg over Asta's lap and lounge back into his blanket.

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

Asta plucks a smore up from the saucer, grinning behind the edge of the graham cracker as Danta swallows down his bite. It gives the butcher time to take a bite of his own – precisely in time to start chewing through the sweetness and crunch of the graham cracker, which evidently may be part of his downfall. Because as Danta says it’s an exclusive shift that he wouldn’t know about, the butcher both snorts and laughs once he’s swallowed his bite. Crumbs still linger, however, and one slips back toward him, spearing him in the throat that he can’t help but to cough with in a mixture of laughing and coughing.

He doesn’t choke at least, but it does make for a dramatic deep hoarseness of his voice once he swallows a sip of his tea and spears his lover with a playfully glowering look. “Perhaps I shall go to Dygra and ask her for a lava wyrm shift in spite of it, if I cannot be a part of your exclusive club without it.” It’s a threat that’s playful, but has the undertones of seriousness only from the deep richness of his voice from a raw throat.

Not that it stops him from taking another bite of the smore as Danta leans back, taking his time with this one so he doesn’t choke to swallow it down and chase it with the spice of the tea. “Thank you, fire.” He says it almost as flatly as a teenager having to apologize for starting a fight they very much weren’t sorry about. But the butcher extenuates the point as he snags some of the fire from the fireplace with a bit of magic and sends a ribbon curling like a loving forked hand around Danta’s face.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

"Oh come now," Danta says as dryly as he can while biting the inside of his cheek not to laugh, "I know it is very sad that you are not a lava wyrm, but you don't have to die about it, Asta." He rolls his eyes as if to say the butcher is being really dramatic by inhaling his smore, and as he speaks again the Maverick raises his eyebrows as if to pretend he can't hear him properly now that he's been smothered by crumbs.

"Asking Dygra for it is not the same as earning it," he boasts, propping himself up on one elbow and cramming the rest of the smore into his mouth to punctuate the point. "Though I may be open to persuasion about my exclusive club," he adds once his teeth aren't sealed shut by marshmallows. "If you really want to be a part of it."

Not expecting such flat gratitude towards the fire, now it's Danta's turn to almost choke on his snack, though he manages not to have bitten into the second smore as he throws his head back and laughs. "I can feel your gratitude from here," he drawls, his smile softening at the flames that come to lick around his face.

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

The recovery is slow going with the crumbs that have set the back of his throat ablaze, but the butcher maintains the dramaticism in the way he sighs heavily to see the rolling of his fiance’s eyes, fighting hard to prevent his lips from quirking up with amusement and failing only in the far reaches of the corners of his mouth. “Alas, I am afraid this may be the hill I do die on.” He aims for all the dramatics in his tone, the frown he can’t help but to put back into place as he tries to sell the point more.

Though, in true drama fashion, he does gasp a little to hear the potential persuasion efforts, amusement flickering in his eyes even if the rest of his face doesn’t convey it as well. “I see. Well, I suppose that is something to consider.” He decides before he’s flatly thanking the fire for its help in crafting such a deliciously sweet breakfast, taking another sip of the tea to hide the grin of amusement behind the rim of the cup as Danta laughs a rich, beautiful sound.

The fire hand slinks back to the flame and Asta sets the cup down, his hand smoothing out over Danta’s leg that’s settled in his lap, adjusting it in a way he can encroach on his lover’s space to place a kiss where he can reach from this angle – the ridge of his lower rib on his chest. “And what might the requirements look like, darling?” He asks, sinking down enough to rest his chin on Danta’s stomach and peer up at him with eyes made honey bright between the glint of the sun and the flames of the fire that still reach out toward them that he plays with to sell the point some more.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

"This, of all the hills. Who would have thought?" Danta grins, propping himself up just enough to take another bite of a smore and to chase it up with some tea, before he sprawls back again. The flames retreat back into the fireplace and the Maverick wiggles his fingers at them in farewell, as if Asta has had nothing to do with their affections towards him.

It's a facade that's impossible to keep up in general, of course, especially as he glances down only to see the other man getting comfortable against him, all soft lips and honey eyes and questions that sound more like pleas. Careful, you, he might have purred, but first there are requirements to set out.

"Mm, let's see..." Danta ponders for a few moments. "Well, one of the requirements is that you have to be exceedingly tall. And your teeth must be sharp - lava wyrms all have that, you know. And I think... your name would have to be Astaroth?"

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

“There have been many hills before, but none quite like this.” The butcher confirms with all the seriousness of their playful argument. And it takes everything in him to not laugh as he gets himself more comfortable – ensuring that the tea and smores are mostly out of the way as he lets all the sweetness settle into his stomach before attempting to roast more. Which only allows for him to put each and every ounce of his attention on his fiance.

The requirements, however, when they start getting listed out – have him hanging onto each one like he’s mentally checking them off. His tail still lingers in the fire, twitching with the first requirement, before it becomes a slight fan at the mention of the teeth – grinning up at his lover like he’s nailed two out of the three so far, and truly how hard could it be to nail the last one.

His dark brows lift with the last requirement, before his nose wrinkles and he laughs a warm sound that vibrates against Danta’s stomach as his head tilts down to rest against the smooth skin there. “I think I have nailed every one of those.” He hums confidently, his tail all but wagging in the flame. “Dare I say you may have some competition if I do ever become a lava wyrm, Wasp.” Tilting his head back up to look at his lover, he winks at him and shoots him the brightest grin before he drops down completely to litter his fiance’s stomach with kiss after kiss.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

I wanna run against the world that's turning

Grinning as he spots Asta's tail wagging in the fireplace out of the corner of his eye, Danta raises his eyebrows as if this is a surprise to him - that the butcher is already meeting all the requirements of his (definitely real and not made up) club. "Why, I daresay you have," he says through a warm laugh, his fingers busy guiding Asta's hair back behind his horns where it can't fall into his face and irritate him. "How fortunate for you."

As for competition though, the Maverick starts to object - being in the club doesn't make you the best wyrm Asta, don't you know - but before he can get the words out he's been assaulted by kisses, Danta immediately squawking an objection and trying to swat the other man away with gentle (and not so gentle) hands, wiggling closer to the fire. If Asta hadn't known before, he definitely knows now - Danta is a little ticklish there.

Dantalion

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

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

Tilting his head into the touch that drags the hair back from his face, the butcher nestles into giving the Maverick his full attention – not that he thinks he’ll lack it in the upcoming season. But the blonde was his favorite person and it only seemed fair that he spent the rest of the morning lovingly harassing him and taking any of the retaliation that comes from it.

Something that he’s very pleased to avoid the retort of how he wouldn’t be the best wyrm just because he was in the club. It’s calculated – though he’ll never say – because he does remember that Danta is ticklish there and it does a wonderful job at making whatever comment Danta has to say die on the line of thought for him to squawk instead, embodying not just the gore crow shift but the air of the wyrm in question.

The butcher’s laugh is warm as he continues to descend his attack on his lover until they’re half in the fire and half not – letting the flames lick around them to heat them up deliciously perfect. Only then, does the butcher finally quell the ambush, his arms curling around the Maverick as he surges up for a real kiss and whispered plans about how the rest of their day could go.

- FIN

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //