2019-04-21 - Easter Sunday

Despite how it seems, these two do occasionally go out. Like, Alex doesn't just keep Violet stashed away in his house or her apartment. It's been almost two weeks since they came to his house for the first time, and they've absolutely gone to meals in restaurants, in public, with people gawking at them, at least a handful of times in between now and then. There've been a couple more home-cooked meals, too, but yeah: she's not just his dirty little secret. Things are also getting comfortable, one would hope, after a couple of weeks. 'Intimacy' is in little things, like extra toothbrushes living in bathrooms at his house and her loft, a couple of changes of clothing.

With all that said!

It's late-afternoon on Easter Sunday. He left Violet in his bed (with quiet comments about how it feels like a crime, but he has to, because God, and also a strict directive that she not go into the backyard), prayed, had brunch with his daughter, and is just now coming in the door with a pink box that pretty much screams 'THERE ARE PASTRIES INSIDE,' and an Easter basket with crinkly fake grass and a chocolate bunny in it. "You didn't go in the backyard, did you?" he calls, the second he's inside.

It would never have been a true complaint from Violet, whether or not they actually went out. She far preferred the evenings at home, where she felt she could just really enjoy Alex's company, to the ventures out into public where they were under the scrutiny of what felt like half of Gray Harbor. And she could say until she was blue in the face that she's gotten used to people staring and that it no longer bothered her .. but the truth was, those evenings often put her on edge, if only because it tickled up the nagging whispers in the back of her head, the ones that suggested he was going to get tired of this very quickly. But his toothbrush was in the bathroom at her home and she had a change of clothes at his, and most days she could think of those things and it was all right.

Most days.

She stayed in his bed long after he left to counsel with the Almighty, staring up at the ceiling. She wasn't his dirty little secret here in Gray Harbor, no, but that nagging whisper wouldn't go away even after she brushed her teeth in his sink and took her clothes from her little spot in his closet. She was still his secret to his daughter - neither his amiga nor his novia, just his mind your own business - it was a topic she hadn't brought up again since that conversation two weeks ago and it didn't even bother her except for right now, when there was that pull to join this part of his life, too, and that nagging voice inside of her head that insisted she couldn't. That she never would. But she wouldn't push, he said he'd find the right time, and if that time was never (as the shadows said it would be)? Then so be it. She could have this, this place, and that could be enough. She could belong here, mostly in his life except for the places where it really mattered.

The day was a struggle, but she makes it through. She stays away from the backyard, as directed, and waters the little succulent that flourishes in the window. She does his dishes, makes sure everything she takes out finds its way back into its spot, except for the book that she took from his library and currently lays in her lap on the sofa. She perks when she hears the door, picking herself up book and all to come into the hall, and fits a smile to her lips; she's wearing a cotton sundress of cream with a blue and violet floral pattern, knee-length. "I didn't," she replies, cross her heart and hope to die. "I said I wouldn't. What's all of that?" Her hand flourishes to the stuff he's burdened with, coming to take the pastry box from him if he'll let her.

Maybe Alex knows about all of those things troubling her - but probably he doesn't get the dept of this issue for poor Violet. Whether that's better or worse is debatable: it means he can't fix it, but it also means he won't obsess over fixing it, so. Right now, the woe that his Sunday morning routine of church (with his daughter as often as not) brings to Violet must be lost on him, as he seems in good spirits when he nudges the door closed with his heel. "Lent is over." Like any good Catholic, he is happy about this!

The box is foisted off into Violet's keeping, and inside are four pretty, Eastery cupcakes with pastel frosting and bunny-shaped sprinkles. This frees up one hand to catch her chin, press a quick kiss to her lips, then swing the basket at the end of his fingers, suggesting the head on into the kitchen, where food belongs. She didn't go into the backyard. "Oh good. Did you have a nice morning?" With an amused glance at the book she's selected; all his reading material sucks and is boring, he should get Netflix or something up in here.

"So I take it that means all of these are for you then?" Violet replies with a soft laugh as she takes a peek into the pastry box. Whatever worries that continue to creep their way into her psyche are ignored in favor of bunny-shaped sprinkles and bright colored frosting. Yes, this was good enough. Her smile broadens as he takes her by the chin, puckering to return the quick kiss in kind, before she follows him bare-footed into the kitchen to set the pink box on the counter. "It was all right," she says of her morning, laying the book on the counter too. It doesn't belong there, but that's where it's going to be for now. "I took a long bath which was nice. But your book selection is a little.." she mulls over her word-options here, side-eyeing the text she found on his shelf. It was something medical related. "Dry." It was a better word than 'sucky'. "I have a few interesting collections at the store that I've been meaning to read. Maybe I'll bring them over?"

Alex mmhmms agreeably. "I just need you to hold the box, so that I have a hand free to put all four in my mouth in rapid succession." Which he does not proceed to do, no matter how awesome that would be. Mention of a long bath gives him a moment of wistful pause - still on the to-do-list - which lingers while he taps his index finger on the closed cover of the book. "This is where I may have to drive a wedge into this relationship, Violet. I?" He steps closer, lays a hand on either of her shoulders, looks deeply into her eyes, dark just absolutely fastened to bright blue. "Have a Kindle." And he looks so very troubled about this confession, like he's ready for the sharp, clean break she's going to have to make on hearing this.

Violet's blue eyes alight with the laughter that comes spilling out of her, and she lifts a hand to her mouth to temper the giggles some. "As delicious as these cupcakes look, I think I'd willingly pass on them to watch you do that," she admits, lowering her hand enough so that he can see her deeply dimpled grin. It fades some in the lingering pause that comes, Violet popping open the lid to the pastry box again to reveal the cupcakes, before he steps close to put his hands on her shoulders. Her brows hike upward and threaten to disappear into her hairline, his revelation forcing out a trembling gasp. "No!" she declares, putting her hand to her chest. "I should have suspected. How could you?" she isn't a very good actress, thus the words are peppered with laughter. Her fingers flit out in the space between them and land to pat-pat against his chest, right over his heart. "It's all right, I think we can fix this. But you're going to have to invest in a lot more bookshelves."

The offer to give himself diabetes may still be on the table, but he doesn't jump right into that task, despite one longing glance from Alex to all that sugar. His hands tighten briefly on Violet's shoulders, like he's just terrified of letting go, then slide down her arms, holding one hand in his, and covering the one over his heart. "I know. It's awful. And I've been trying to tell you for weeks now. It's just," deep breath. She says it's okay, and he uncovers her hand, wiping pretend-sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

A forehead that crinkles abruptly afterward while he repeats, "Bookshelves? Hmmm." There's a squint, an inhale. "You may have to take that up with the furniture woman." Also, he totally set down the Easter basket to accommodate all those theatrics. Like the cupcakes, he'll get back around to that in a minute. After this book/shelf crisis has been averted.

"It is awful. Absolutely horrifying," Violet agrees with a solemn nod, and she's trying so desperately to train her lips into a frown but they keep rebelling and trying to smile. Gosh. "It's probably a good thing you didn't tell me when we first met, I would've never given you a chance," she lies through her teeth, those blue eyes glimmering with adoration as she stares up into his darker eyes. "But we'll fix it. And I don't need the furniture woman, I have a shop full of bookshelves," that don't match his decor. Oh well. Sucks to be Alex! She picks herself up onto her tip-toes and plants a quick kiss to his lips, holding for just a moment before she leans away. "But now that that's settled... Are you going to tell me what's in the backyard? Because I've been curious all morning!"

Alex, mental note: give furniture woman Violet's phone number so they can sort this out between them.

Alex, out-loud note, "Mmhm, that's why I bought the bike. So that, when you found out about my digital-book blasphemy, I'd already have my foot in the door." And other parts of his in other places of Violet's, yay! Answering her kiss, following it up with a quick nose-to-nose nudge, he also steps back, hooking a finger around the handle of the basket to drag it over. "No." He's not going to tell her. "But you need that." And then he tilts his head, indicating the doors that he uses to exit the kitchen, leading her into the tiny back-yard with the pergola.

And the plastic eggs 'hidden.' Some of them are in plain-sight, so we'll just have to pretend Violet is too fucking blind to have seen them if she glanced out the back door.

"Mm. Very wise. Here I was, thinking this entire time, that you bought the bike because you needed a way around the city while your car was en-route," Violet replies with a soft laugh that lingers when the basket is dragged over to her. She blinks a few times, but her fingers wrap around the wicker handle, giving him a suspicious squint of her crystal blue eyes. "Hmm," she lets the sound roll off her lips as she reaches for his hand with her spare, letting him lead her out the door and into the backyard.

Violet isn't fucking blind, so she's instead avoided looking out the window and into the backyard this whole time. Needless to say, the suspense was killing her. But there's a quiet gasp of delight when she sees the colorful hidden-in-plain-sight eggs that dot the tiny garden, a bigger grin quickly blossoming. "Oh my gosh!" she laughs. See? She respects Alex so much, she's not even using God's name in vain (unless they're banging, and then it's just her giving props to the Man). "When did you even hide all these? I don't think I've done an egg hunt in.." ever, probably. "Well a very long time! Are you going to help?"

'OMG' and the grin and the laugh was pretty much what Alex was aiming for, so pardon him for dropping her hand just outside the door, lingering back a few steps to watch her and enjoy the fruits of his labors. Even if, after the drifting eyes and his own slow-spreading smile, he goes on to demur, "Me? Violet, I was in bed with you, then church, then brunch. I don't know how you can suspect I had anything to do with this." Also, a couple of those eggs are wedged in the roof-slats of the pergola, and he's way too short of have reached that high, so obviously, "This was all the doings of the Easter Bunny."

Which means he's free to help with the finding, since he totally wasn't responsible for hiding. Though. The first and only egg he 'finds' is the one sitting in the middle of the paving stones. And only because it has candy in it. And he hasn't had a jelly bean in 40 days. He cracks that mofo open immediately, leaving the other 23 plastic eggs scattered among the shrubs and planters patio furniture (that he did not use to climb up and put eggs in the pergola slats) for Violet.

Violet tucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she casts a look back to him; it was possible, had she not bitten her lip, that the smile that sweeps across her features might very well overtake her entire face. As it is, the corners still twitch upward, dimpling either of her cheeks prominently. "The Easter Bunny," she replies, dipping her chin into a quick nod. "Of course. Who else could it be? I'll have to write him a note to say thank you," she was practically sparkling. With basket in hand and a flounce of her light cotton skirt, Violet goes off to find the other 23 eggs that AlexBunny's hidden across the tiny garden.

All of us (except for Violet) knows she's a sharer, so perhaps it's not surprising that the emotions she feels in the moment come off of her in bursts. It's whips through like a fresh spring breeze, a wave of pure and simple happiness. It was bright and clear and strong, almost childlike and utterly innocent, not dampened by anything - not even the remote edge of uncertainty. She shares that happiness with Alex, not just accidentally - it's in the smiles that she shows him, or the breaks she takes to peck kisses to his lips, to his cheek, to nuzzle her nose into his skin and sigh, her breath minty-fresh and warm against him.

She saves the pergola roof eggs for last, when she has to grab one of the patio chairs to reach into the slats, and she laughs as she captures the final egg. "Did I get them all?" she wonders aloud, hopping down off the chair with a spring in her skirt, this egg cracked open so that she can get the candy out of it. "This is amazing, Alex."

While she's doing that, Alex will quit himself of his suit jacket, leaving it over the back of one of the patio chairs, and loosen his tie, roll up his sleeves; it's too pleasant out to be dressed to the nines, no matter how pretty he looks. His attention stays mostly on Violet during this, winding up with his fingers curled over the back of that chair where it braces some of his weight, leaving him free to watch her flit around and collect plastic eggs. She's delighted, so - naturally - he's charmed as all get-out, and those dark eyes gleam with a blend of amusement and self-satisfaction while they chase her around the tiny yard.

"I think so," he says of her completion, dropping the two halves of the one egg he pilfered into her basket. He's not about to count them, so either they found all twenty-four or they didn't. "Though. Hmmm." And he frowns as if thoughtfully, eyes casting upward and outside the confines of the patio.

She rolled like a boss earlier, so we'll give her credit for interpreting his reticence to sign off on the 'found all Easter Eggs' achievement as knowing there's one out there somewhere. It's well-hidden and outside the area where the others were contained, which is totally how she overlooked it despite beating both the Easter Bunny and Alex on rolls. The egg itself is red, larger in size than the others, the color truer and less pre-school bright. And it just happens to blend in perfectly with the hummingbird feeder (that Violet totally helped him hang from the corner of the house at some point in the recent past).

Violet was charmed as well, positively delighted as she comes to present him with the basket of little plastic eggs, some now broken and candyless because he is a thief who made her do all the hard work and then pilfered her jellybeans. Damn him. "You think so?" her brows go up, and there's a quiet laugh on her lips, which is almost immediately followed by a curious tilt to her head at the thoughtful frown upon his lips. "Did I miss one?" Curious, she basically has eagle eyes behind those glasses, but she follows the upward cast of his eyes outside the patio confines. Then, with a turn of her heel, she heads in the direction that he's looking. "The Easter Bunny is very crafty," she says in quiet wonderment, as she looks about for this mystery egg.

It takes her only a bit to spot it, well hidden as it is, stuck there by the hummingbird feeder. But she grins when she does, holding it aloft to show him her prize. "This one's different from the others. What do you think is inside?" she tilts the egg this way and that as she comes back around to him. "Maybe a dozen jellybeans? Or, ooh, one of those peanut butter eggs," she considers the various options before she gets on with popping the larger egg open, to see what the 'Easter Bunny' has left for her.

"If it's a dozen jelly beans," Alex begins, like he has no clue, "I would like to state my dibs on half of them. But you can have all the purple ones." Because purple candy is disgusting. He claps appreciatively for her awesome finding abilities - total Hufflepuff, Violet is - and then puts his hands back on the chair again, tapping his thumbs against it idly. Not like he's anxious for this reveal but c'mon, he put a lot of effort into this. So inside the egg is spam.

@emit Carefully wrapped in a small, pink-satin pillowy pouch is an antique pendant watch.

The chain is long, designed to wear low, and made of small links of platinum with trios of tiny seed pearls and rose diamonds between them. Even without the pendant (which we'll get to, and which can be completely detached), the chain is a pretty bauble, ending with its own small, circular pendant: a loop of platinum with small diamonds encircling a single pearl suspended in the center.

The actual watch dangles from a short chain of the same white-gold and pearl, clasping the pendant so that it dangles low. The face of the watch is gold with blue-steel hands, the numbers picked out in dark amber (and the words: Cartier Paris); surrounding the face is a thin gold circlet with a ripple of white enamel. But the piece's true beauty is the back. The same white enamel-against-gold circles the outer rim, creating a ripple that the shimmering pink guilloche enamel, causing it to shift between princess-pink and soft, rosy-gold. In the center, a loop of white enamel beads leads into a loop of rose diamonds that ultimately encircle a larger rose diamond.

"Mm, your dibs are acknowledged but I'd like to see exactly how many purple jellybeans we're talking about before I agree," replies Violet, flashing him a small smile before she gets back down to cracking open the egg. She doesn't seem to notice his anxiousness, mostly because she's focused on revealing what's inside - there's no expectation of anything outside of candy, so the little satin pillow pouch is regarded with a quick blink. "I suppose I should be glad it's not an egg within an egg," she remarks quietly, a joke that falls a little flat considering it is spoken as she opens up the pouch - the end of the sentence washes away in a sharp inhale of breath.

"Oh."

Behind the frames of her glasses, Violet's eyes widen, her initial expression that of something of disbelief. She exchanges a quick glance from the chain to Alex and then back to the chain again, holding it delicately in the palm of her hand while the fingers of her other brush over the links of platinum and seed pearls down to the pendant, her gentle touch cautious, as though even the slightest movement might break the chain. There is a long moment where she simply looks stunned, silent and admiring, before her eyes slowly lift to him once more. She captures her bottom lip, working it over with her teeth, before she finds words that are not nearly good enough to express how she feels in the moment: "Alex.. This is.. this is beautiful."

Alex's eyes flare open briefly at the idea of the nested eggs, a flash of disappointment showing: CURSES, why didn't he think of that?! Next year, since he can't be spending however-much-he-actually-spent every Easter. His nod is agreeable about that summary, and he meanders on over with no particular hurry pushing his steps; he got the reaction he was aiming for, so everything else is pretty much gravy at this point. "I thought so, too. Different but pretty?" With a questioning brow-lift, is Violet following his super-subtle metaphor here?

Not to throw it alllll the way back to the beginning of this scene, but he adds casually, with a little head-tilt while looking down at the pink thing she's holding so carefully, "Sophia told me that I couldn't get you anything purple. That anyone named Violet had to be completely over getting purple presents, and I was," quote, "a horrible human for even considering it." He lifts his eyes back to hers, shrugs lightly. "So you get pink."

Violet was not following his super-subtle metaphor; he was going to have to hit her over the head with stuff right now, because her attention was swiftly drawn back to the pendant and the shimmering pink enamel of the pendant. Her breath catches all over again, the tip of her finger feathering a touch against the enamel, before she turns it back over to the clock-face. "Yes. Different but beautiful," she agrees, and woosh goes his point right over her head.

But while she may not be catching onto the point he was trying to make, she does manage to gather what he was throwing down about his daughter. That earns him another look of crystal blue eyes that almost abruptly fog over with mist, a few unfallen teardrops clinging to her eyelashes. "You.. you asked Sophia? About a gift for me?" the voice kind of squeaks out of her; she has to swallow hard before the words come out right. "Alex, this.. I can't.." she moves on bare feet across the porch, to eat up what's left of the distance between them, and she cradles the pendant securely in one hand so that she can free up the other to cup his cheek. She was trembling, just faintly, but there was an insistence to look him in the eyes, Violet picking herself up onto the tips of her toes so she could do it proper. "No one's ever gotten anything like this for me before. Thank you," those last two words were stressed with sincerity. "It's perfect."

All that Alertness+Perception, and she can't get one subtle compliment? Well, it's a good thing he already thinks she's different but beautiful, or there'd be some disgruntled sniff falling into this space. Also, if she cries while she wears her glasses, they're going to get all splattered. It's a real problem.

As for what Alex asked his daughter about, there's a quick, "Mhm," and a nod to match it. "She has good taste," is not the reason, but he sprinkles that on. She comes over with her squeaking, and he turns his face enough to burrow a kiss into her palm before he lets it settle against his chin properly, leaning a little of the weight of his head into her hand. "I'm happy to be the first someone to have gotten you something like this, then. It should actually be set." He checks his normal wristwatch before scooping his arm around her waist, the other hand gently uncurling her fingers from around this bauble to compare it to that checked time. And also, "It will look more perfect when you're actually wearing it." Hum-de-dum, "Y nada mas."

"She does," Violet agrees of his daughter, although her voice was almost lost in the compliment. She doesn't cry, she won't, her lashes hanging onto those teardrops as best they can so that there's no splatter across her glasses. But she does look as though she might faint or melt into a puddle on the patio; her knees were wobbly and worsening when he kisses her hand and checks to ensure the clock agrees to the time on his wristwatch. It means she takes to leaning into him a bit more heavily, fearing her legs might give out, her hand sliding from his cheek to tangle her fingers into her hair, so that she can pull herself into him for a lingering kiss. "You're amazing," she murmurs against his mouth, proves it to him with another firm kiss, and then angles back far enough so that she can lift up the bauble and put it between them. "Would you put it on for me? Please?"

"You're only saying that because you didn't see the purple peacock broach that almost went into that egg." Alex smiles down at her over the thing he was smart enough to second-guess buying, his eyes rolling at the ineptitude he almost put on display for her. He's not amazing; he's just an obsessive perfectionist with good back-up. Who likes getting kissed on the patio, and draws Violet against him entirely for the duration, only too happy to have her leaning into him, and would go on standing here, holding her, kissing her indefinitely were it not for that ever-so-polite please. "Yes," he agrees readily, drawing the whole thing out of her palm. The chain is long enough that he could almost definitely just drop it down over her head, but it's more fun to push her hair aside and do the chain properly, with the sort of barely-touching brushes of his fingertips that make for happy goosebumps.

While he's back here, while he's working the little clasp, he adds, "Thank you for this past month, Violet. I didn't think I would feel giddy again. In my life. And I'm glad that I met you and was wrong about that."

"I would have liked that, too," Violet says of the purple peacock broach with a light laugh, lowering her eyes long enough for another glimpse of the present there in the palm of her hand before all the kissing starts. "If only because you thought enough of me to want to get me something at all." It's a simple thing, that. The present was beautiful, but it was truly special because of the thought behind it. She wasn't doing so well with the words though, on account of still being stunned, so she tries to sum all of that up in the kiss, encouraging him to stay there against her lips until her lungs burn for air and she wants so badly to be wearing his gift. Speaking of giddy, she was practically floating as he puts the chain around her neck, the soft brushes of his fingertips sending a fuzzy sort of sensation through her, her skin prickling in the wake of his touch. She breathes in, her pulse rapid and fluttery, biting her bottom lip at the words that he speaks to her.

"Is that how I make you feel? Giddy?" There was a sense of wonder in the hush of her voice, perhaps a touch of disbelief that she could make anybody feel giddy. But.. "I'm glad for that, too. That you came into my life. I still find it hard to believe that you're real sometimes. I.. You make me feel giddy, too, Alex."

Alex maintains his skepticism over the peacock, but that conversation is over by the time he's finished fastening the chain. Those feathery fingertips run along the seed pearls, tracing the lines of the chain down either side of her neck till they reach as far as her collarbones, and then he leans to loop both arms around her instead, drawing her back into him. Is that how she makes him feel? "Yes." No hesitation, no doubt, just yes, punctuated by a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, pressed purposefully just below her hairline.

And either he's real, or someone else is breathing against her skin for a time, and it's someone else's smile she can feel when the kisses wander to the curve of her neck. "Do you know what goes extremely well with giddiness?" It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume he means sexy things, since he's doing all that warm kissing and pulling her into him in ways that leave no doubt that Violet makes him feel a lot more than just giddy. But that's not where he was headed just yet. "Cupcakes with bunny sprinkles."

In his defense, he had sex, like, last night. But he hasn't had a cupcake in at least 40 days.

It was suddenly very hard to find words beyond expressing the giddy that he made her feel when his lips were on her neck. She leans back into him as he draws his arms about her, bending her own arm back to slip her fingers through his hair and tighten a grip there at the back of his head. She scratches her nails into his scalp as his breath breezes against her skin, breath hitching as she tips her head to the side to expose more skin to his lips. She knew precisely what went extremely well with giddiness; she wanted so badly for the other end of that conversation to lead to the bedroom, or even up against the pergola, but the warmth of his breath was stealing the words from her lips, leaving them open but producing only shallow breaths. So instead, she responds with a press of her hips into the parts of him that feel super giddy in the moment, determined to get the right answer here.

Instead, she gets cupcakes. With bunny sprinkles.

"Huh?" She's not so much startled but bewildered, where the hell were they going to find bunny sprinkle cupcakes? But then she remembers the pink box, and realizes she's nudging up against him in a way that quickly gets her flustered. Nervous laughter spills out of her, and she curls her fingers around her new pendant to hold it there against her chest as she starts to lean away. "Right, right. Cupcakes, of course," she swallows, blotchy red marks blossoming on her pale cheeks. "We should probably see if the Easter Bunny brought you anything, too. Though he probably wasn't as clever as to hide them in twenty-four plastic eggs around your garden.."

So close, Violet. Eventually, she'll get to have sex under the pergola, and Alex will get to have sex in the bubble bath, and all will be right with the world. But that's not right now. Not least because it's the middle of the day, and there are neighbors whose houses sit on higher hills than Alex's does, so - although he adds a few light nips to the side of her neck, definitely with the hips pushing back against hers - he also takes a resolute breath, shifting enough that her leaning away lets his arms slide from around her, though his hands will stay at her hips. "They are lemon cupcakes, with cream cheese frosting, and raspberry jelly inside them." In case that helps Violet get over her disappointment.

"Hmmmmm," he adds lengthily about what else that magical bunny may have been up to, chasing her steps toward the door. Here's how giddy he really is: he leaves his jacket outside, so keen on having cupcakes (and sex after them, undoubtedly). "Did you let the Easter Bunny into my house while I was at church, Violet? Because we're going to have to have a serious talk about letting strangers come over..."

It doesn't. Alex could've harvested Jesus' divine sperm and injected it into those lemon cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and Violet would still be severely disappointed. Because the answer to his question should've been sex under the pergola. Or the bubble bath. Or the bed! But even with as bold as she had been to rub up against him out in the open there of his garden (where his neighbors were probably watching out the window and were appalled, Alex, scandalized!), she was not yet bold enough to voice her frustration as to where this conversation was leading them. So cupcakes. "They sound delicious," she insists, keeping her grumbling where it belongs - deep inside of her. She fits a smile to her face and reaches behind to hook her fingers in his, pulling him to the door so that he could get his sugar fix. While he forgets his jacket, she snags her basket, swaying it absent-mindedly as she steps into the kitchen with a laugh.

"I can't possibly be held responsible. Maybe you forgot to lock the front door and he snuck in while I was taking my bath," she grins, setting her basket on the table and making a bee-line for the stairs. "Stay down here," she remarks, taking the steps two at a time on her little bare feet, skirt swishing as she goes. She needed the distance, just to take a breather at the top of the stairs, put her head in the right order. When she returns, it's with a shiny powder blue and yellow gift bag, stuffed with pastel-colored tissue paper peeking from the top. "Imagine that, he left it in the bag I brought over! Silly Easter Bunny," she quips, coming back around to plunk the bag down on the counter for him to open at his convenience.

But yes, that's right Alex. The Easter Bunny got closer to Violet in the bathtub than Alex ever has. The Easter Bunny is a pervert.

They do sound delicious, so Violet better just cope. Alex is eating his goddamn cupcakes. In fact, while she's up there doing whatever - after he gives her a Look at the suggestion that he forgot to lock the door; she is talking to someone who's riiiiight on the fringes of OCD, dearie - he is down here eating his cupcake. He leans against the kitchen counter, peels the little paper down... and she should absolutely be jealous, because he's undressing this cupcake with intent, and the things he does to that frosting with his tongue - oh, but Violet's back. He stops molesting his pastry now, just stuffs a bite into his face, tucks that bite into his cheek, and smiles a halo-smile: he's being good. o:)

From behind the hand that covers his mouth while he chews through his FUCKING DELICIOUS CUPCAKE, he suggests, "One almost wonders why you brought over an empty gift bag, Violet. Almost." He offers her the part of the cupcake he hasn't eaten and/or violated and dutifully rummages into the tissue paper that the pervy rabbit left for him.

It was a good thing that Violet was away when he molested the cupcake, else she might have flown off the handle and taught that whore cupcake a lesson for trying to seduce her man. After all, Alex's given her the dick now, and we all know what happens when women have sex. It changes them. Thankfully, our sweet and innocent Violet was saved from transforming into an angry horny monster and taking her frustration out on pastries. His angel smile is returned with sweetness. "Just be glad I came prepared, who knows what he would've used as wrapping if I hadn't thought ahead," she quips back, plucking the cupcake from his hand while laying her other hand over the bag. "Now, in the Easter Bunny's defense.." she starts with just a twinge of nerves. ".. He had no idea what he was going to put in your eggs before he packed this bag. So.." She slips her hand away with that warning. There was no stunning piece of jewelry inside, Alex, better you be prepared for disappointment now. She leans into the counter to lick at the cupcake's seeping jelly insides while she watches him from over the cream cheese frosting.

Beyond the cloud of tissue paper are two simple, old things. The first, a worn copy of Pablo Neruda's 'Cien Sonetos de Amor'. But beyond the paperback was a small, ornate bronze ormolu picture frame. Oval in shape and left in its original patina, it likely doesn't match his modern decor; it's the kind of frame one keeps on a bedside table, if they are so inclined. Violet -- Err, the Easter Bunny -- has taken it upon themselves to put a picture beneath the beveled glass. They haven't taken many pictures together yet, so Alex should remember this one from just a handful of nights ago; the two of them on the stone bridge, passing back over to her apartment after dinner that evening. She'd stopped him in the middle of the bridge, tucked herself under his chin and held her phone aloft. She wears a dimpled smile, his chin on her hair of frizzy pale gold, the glow of the full moon and the shimmer of the pond beyond creating something of a halo effect.

"I know it's not much," she says quietly as she takes a bite of his cupcake. "And I didn't talk to the furniture lady. But I liked the frame. And the picture."

Wait wait wait. She didn't spend like $34,000 on Alex? If Alex was tall, I bet that present would be worth more. 🙁

The book makes him smile, and the thumbs through it briefly, lips moving for a moment over that smile, and he looks up to pass his eyes across Violet's. His first, "Thank you," is small and quiet, touched while he puts the book aside to finish unearthing his Easter prize. And the touched smile deepens from there, running his thumbs along the raised shapes and then his fingertip across the dimpled smile in the picture. Seriously, while he puts the frame atop the book on the counter in the kitchen where they absolutely fail to match the decor, he still says, "Thank you. It's perfect."

And now it's time to stop eating cupcakes. He steps over to take what's left of that one out of her hands and put it back in the box. Instead, it's time to kiss her with intent, scooping a hand under her chin and fitting his lips to hers with all the eagerness of someone even more smitten with Violet than he is his first taste of sugar in like four weeks.

Look, Violet owns a shabby little antique store that probably gets one paying customer a month. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit, Alex, jeeze!

But in a way, this out-of-time picture frame with its cellphone selfie shot stored underneath the beveled glass was a statement of them. Of Violet herself. Much like how the frame didn't match the decor of his house, Violet wasn't ever going to really match the decor of his life - but they were both there, and in Alex's world where everything had a place, couldn't he find a place for them to belong, however small? It was subtle, the meaning, but there in the intent, and in the nervous smile that fits onto Violet's face, barely revealing the dimples in her cheeks. Her blue eyes were glued to his features, seeking something unspoken there, perhaps expecting disappointment that wouldn't make its way into the verbal thanks that he gives to her. "I don't know if it's perfect, but it's very old. The frame, I mean, it has a really long history. It.."

The frame's life story would have to wait, however. Her rush of words stop short as he takes the cupcake out of her hand and puts his lips to her own, that thought finished with a warm sigh muffled against him. She likes this much better than talking, of worrying, and so she steps up onto her tippy-toes and sets a hand on his shoulder, fingers pressing into the muscle there, while her other winds around his neck and returns her fingers to his hair. He tastes of lemon and raspberry jelly, and though he has no bunny sprinkles, he is the most delicious thing she's had in the past four minutes, so she does her best to get her fill of him.

That's a lot of metaphor for one picture frame. Alex will rearrange a few things on his perfectly clean nightstand - or maybe get craaaazy up there and put several pictures on his dresser, all in frames that don't match each other or the rest of the decor, and then he and his housekeeper can have something else to fight about. Suffice it to say: by Wednesday of this week, he'll have found a nice way to fit it all into the perfect order he maintains, just like he's found a way to spend time with Violet.

Er, not just like that. He's not going to coax the picture frame into parting its lips more - partially 'cause it doesn't have any, but also because he doesn't feel that way about it, even if it is very pretty. But he is going to do that to Violet, and he's also going to slip that hand from beneath her chin to the back of her neck, the other fitting down against the small of her back to bring her against him again. Like under the pergola, except in the kitchen. Where he won't have to be like 'we should go inside' in a minute. So that kiss gets away from him, as does the next one, and the one that gets away from her, too, and winds up with nibbles to her earlobe. "Tell me the story of the frame later," he suggests distractedly. 'Cause he was listening, just kind of already onto the one-step-further by that point.