eat your heart out

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"But I am not a chef," Danta objects with a solemn sigh as though he is falsely advertising himself by wearing such a thing, but of course he'll keep it on for as long as necessary - and even the walk home if he can get away with it. As for the crackin' bib he's adorned his lover with in return, he tips him a wink and helps himself to another drink of wine. "Mmhm. You seem particularly adept with that tool already," he points out, grabbing a pair of small tongs and snapping them at the Butcher for good measure.

It doesn't take long for their food to arrive after that, and as always the Maverick is quietly delighted by the sheer chaos of it as it spills across their table, the smell of spices and butter and fresh seafood filling the air and making his mouth immediately start to water. "This is exactly what I needed to feel better," he says, smiling sidelong at Asta before immediately digging in.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

“Mm, what does it make you if you have two out of the three qualities?” He asks, amusement flickering in his face before he’s getting the bib placed on himself in the meantime. The crackin’ crab is also something the Butcher feels like he needs to squirrel away just as Danta needs to keep his. And when he picks up the shell cracker and Danta snags the tongs to snap at him, another low laugh leaves him as he shakes his head. “As do you, darling. Perhaps it is not your teeth I need to be worried about.” He raises a brow.

But of course, by then the food has arrived and he can already smell it before she’s dumping the bag of it on the table – the chaos of the food spreading and sprawling, the melted butter stretching its long fingers out toward the edges. “Good. I am quite glad, darling.” He purrs, shifting to sit up a little so he can reach out to snag the steaming hard boiled egg, making quick work of it (and it’s almost uncanny how snakelike the Butcher is with how fast it’s devoured).

Already the butcher’s fingers are glistening with the butter, but rather than immediately cringe from it, he reaches for a crab claw instead, cracking it and offering the meat of it to the Maverick with a warmer glint to his gaze. “I will say that seafood in Torchline does feel far superior to what we get in the Grounds.” Comes the quiet admission, like he doesn’t want to announce it too loudly lest Flora night surprisingly hear about it from whomever might be listening in.

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"An unqualified lobster, obviously," Danta tells Asta with a sly smile and another clack of his tongs, before he's grabbing some corn and spearing a bit of sausage with his fork to enjoy, not needing to worry about the heat rolling off of any of the food. "Come on, Asta - you always need to be worried about my teeth," he says with another wink, though by that time his lover is all but inhaling a hard boiled egg and the Maverick can't help but be impressed.

He digs through some more sausage and potatoes and finishes a small cob of corn to make room to crack open a crab claw or two, offering a sliver of the sweet meet out for Asta to try - this time with his fingers, naturally, because there is no cutlery when it comes to the better part of a seafood boil. It's at that point that he realises his lover is doing the same thing, and with a laugh he leans in to accept it, glistening butter and all.

"Mm, I can only agree," he admits. "They've got nothing on our venison though, remember. Each region to their own." And their cold-water fare isn't bad either, admittedly, though it will never be the tropical glory of Torchline's shores.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

The look he gives his fiancé is precisely the same one that lingers as Danta tells him that he doesn’t always need to be worried about his teeth. “Obviously.” The Butcher drawls instead, though it’s nearly impossible to wipe the warmth off of his face, the amusement glittering in his gaze. It only breaks as he starts to devour the hardboiled egg, then reaching for the crab claw to crack, Asta offers it out in time to see that their two braincells have collided.

Leaning in at the same time Danta does, Asta carefully takes the sliver of seafood, sweet and savory with all the butter dripping everywhere. It’s quite an adorable scene for two intimidating chaos kings, but Asta doesn’t seem to mind or even really notice whether anyone’s stopped to stare at them.

Groaning once he swallows the bite down to be reminded of their venison, Asta plucks a piece of sausage out of the pile and splits it in two to share one for Danta. “Our venison is phenomenal.” He agrees, handing part of the sausage over for the Maverick while he takes a bite out of the other half. "Would you prefer it messy like this?" He asks with a twitch of his lips once he's swallowed his bite - wondering what a Hollowed Grounds venison meal might be like if it was similar to this seafood boil.

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

If anyone has stopped to stare at them, they'll likely avert their eyes quite quickly with Danta's decision to thoroughly clean Asta's fingers with his tongue (while maintaining eye contact, of course). Humming his satisfaction as he sits back and accepts his piece of sausage - not the one he'd have put his mouth around given the choice, wink wonk, but whatever - he considers the prospect of eating venison like this, eyes lighting up with dark delight.

"Maybe not exactly like this, but we could have it carved in front of us straight from the kitchen, and have all the sides on the table ready," he suggests. "I worry if it doesn't come out pre-sliced, you and I will end up fighting over some giant deer leg and it will be a very different experience for everyone at the restaurant." Granted, if it's at the Dusklight most people will just assume it's a new or existing kink, so there's that.

Grabbing up some shrimp to crack open and enjoy, Danta falls quiet for a bit to eat, and as the sun slowly starts to vanish below the horizon, he seems almost completely back to his usual self.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

Amusement flickers in the Butcher’s gaze, warm sultry charm spreading through the dark hues as Danta cleans the rest of the crab from his fingers. “Later, darling.” Asta purrs softly, just for the Maverick’s ears as he shifts slightly to snag the sausage they can split. And it prompts the curiosity of whether or not they should try to make some kind of venison like this.

The idea of it being carved in front of them has Asta’s gaze brightening in mischief and curiosity too, smirking slightly. “Any rarity available.. Perhaps a variety of cuts can go around and be carved as requested?” He muses, (he’s thinking of a Brazilian steakhouse, to be honest). “It should take away the competition of it all.” That way they wouldn’t have a chance to complain to each other about getting the best cut.

As they draw quiet again and Danta seems warmer and more himself, Asta also starts to relax. He takes a few moments to devour some of it himself, ignoring the way the butter drips down his wrist. He snags one of the lobster tails now, cracking through it and snagging the small thin knife to slice through the underside to pull it out and splits it to dip half of it into the spiced melted butter then goes to hand it to Danta with a bouncing brow, silent and quietly relieved he's relaxing.

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Danta purrs in response to Asta's insistence on later, though the sly smile won't leave his lips, and rest assured, he has every intention of making good on the Butcher's patience when they are in less scandalised company. Luckily they have an abundance of good food and wine to keep their minds (mostly) out of the gutter, and the Maverick hums around a bite of lobster to nod his agreement with the other man.

"Surely somewhere like that must exist already," he says. "But if not, that's an idea for the Grounds in Flowerbirth." Winking, Danta raises the last bite of lobster in a toast before settling in to enjoy it, washing it down with the last of his glass of wine.

He's just finished refilling both of their glasses when Asta offers out the butter-dipped lobster, and it's with quiet delight that he leans in to accept it, snagging one of the clean rags to catch the line of molten gold dripping down his wrist. "Dare I ask what you plan to order for dessert?" he wonders with a smirk.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

“Mmhm, claro.” He drawls, letting his accent blanket his words easily as Danta playfully ignores the meaning. He can tell with the sly smile still tugged on his lips that mirrors on his own face, while his attention returns toward the seafood boil and the idea of a newer kind of restaurant that would allow for a variety of cuts of meat.

It’s a little daydreamy, despite the fact the sun is on its way down, sipping from his wine with a soft laugh. “I will do some research, then.” He’s sure if there’s a restaurant around that does what he’s got in mind, someone will have heard about it. And the Dusklight was a perfect spot to pick up on all that kind of gossip. And if the Dusklight hadn’t heard it, it’s possible his tailor has.

Anyway, those are thoughts for weeks from now, and the Butcher’s inclined to reach for the wine glass, having not felt the warm butter begin to drip down his wrist. He stills when he realizes Danta’s swiping it up before he can get it everywhere and with a grateful twitch of his smile, he snags the refilled wine glass to take another refreshing sip before answering. “Oh I am so glad you asked. A peach cobbler sounds lovely.”

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"Clarrrrrro," Danta repeats half under his breath, rolling the r out and seeming quietly amused with his own formation of the word. His hands are full of wine and shrimp by the time Asta confirms he'll get his thinking cap on about their potential new restaurant venture, so he offers him a nod and a wink for his trouble instead before falling quiet again to eat.

The peach cobbler sounds delightful to the Maverick, strangely enough, though they probably have the lingering memory of his time in the Oerwoud to thank for that brief sweet tooth. Having skewered a bit of potato and sausage on his fork together, he offers it out to Asta with a bright smile. "Cobbler it is," he says, gesturing to the (very empty looking, by now) remains of their dinner.

"I think I'm about done, so whenever you're inclined, I'll switch to feeding you dessert."

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

Amused warmly by Danta’s repetition of the long forgotten language, Asta’s quite pleased with how well he’s managed to roll his r. Enough that his tail tightens a touch around his leg to prove it while their hands are soaked in butter, plucking the variety of items from the meal to devour in the interim. But between the rich seafood and the butter, he does have to keep in mind how full he’s getting if there’s cobbler to be on the way soon.

But he can’t deny the potato and sausage skewered on the fork that’s offered out to him. So he leans in, snagging it, and happily chews it down between his sharp teeth. It’s the last of it, even if a few pieces remain, because the Butcher’s quite sure if he continues to eat he’ll likely burst before he has a chance to sample something sweet. So he reaches for the clean, moist rags and offers it out to Danta before taking his own to clean up any lingering greasiness that might drive him crazy later. “I think we should order it now, or else I will not have enough room.” He admits with a huff of a laugh, reaching for his wine glass now to take a heavy sip.

Calling the waitress over to order the cobbler, the Butcher then refills their wine glasses and leans a touch closer to the Maverick, his shoulder brushing against his fiance’s. “It may end up being more of your dessert than mine at this rate, darling.”

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //

storm's comin', I can see the clouds

"Sacrilege," Danta declares at the idea of not having enough room for dessert. "Who are you and what have you done with my head of security?" Accepting the rag and spending a few moments to clean off his face and hands, by the time the waitress arrives to clear their table and take their cobbler order, the Maverick is about as domestic as he's ever likely to get, and he shifts to immediately sit closer against Asta.

Grinning and leaning against him enough to prop his chin against his shoulder, he aims a gentle kiss to the other man's cheek. "What if," he suggests, "we eat half here and get the other half to go? I bet Flora has ice cream at the house we could pair it with later." Much later, after a nap and whatever else they might get up to as the night marches on.

Dantalion

No runnin's gonna save you now

// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //

“Oh, I believe I have been replaced by a cartoon crab that only knows how to say let’s get crackin’.” It takes him a moment to manage to make his accent disappear to get the correct kind of drawl for the wording on his bib that Danta had put on him. But he thinks he does a satisfactory job, looking over at Danta now that his hands are clean to shoot him an amused smile.

Relaxing once they’re clean enough and the bib is taken off to fold up nicely and look back at him with its saying face up, the Butcher leans into the kiss his fiancé presses to his cheek. “Oooh, that’s a fantastic idea, darling.” Extremely content with the idea of that, so he’d at the very least be able to enjoy it for longer without Danta having to roll him home, the Butcher tilts his head to claim a warm kiss to seal the deal.

The peach cobbler arrives soon after, sat down with two forks even though the Butcher is confident they’ll only require the one. It smells lovely and homey, sweet and tart in all the ways a good warm dessert often was. And he reaches out to snag a portion of it on the fork to offer to Danta first, trying to get his read on whether or not it was sweet enough to satisfy the sweet tooth spurred by resurfacing traumatic memories.

Astaroth

// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //