2021-10-05 - The Honeymoon's Over

It's been a whirlwind few months away from Gray Harbor. They've only been back from the book tour and, well, wedding, for about 24 hours. Diva, back from the cat sitters, has been meowing nonstop and demanding cuddles. She's currently perched on Dante's chest, making biscuits, as he lies in bed their first morning back. "Ow, ow! Darling, stop. Yes, I missed you, too. We need to take her to the groomer. She's got tiny daggers on her feet.

Steam is spilling from the bathroom as Cris emerges in a pair of sleep pants and still wringing water out of his ear with the corner of his towel. "I'll check the schedule." Which, after Cris bullied Dante's assigned assistant on the tour to quit, he has overtaken the duty himself and it's going to be a hard habit to break out of now that they're 'home'. "I need to oversee the cabinet installer on Thursday. They already tried to put in an oak finish once, I don't want to have them have to rip it out twice."

"Oh oak, heaven forbid. And everyone thinks I'm the particular diva in this relationship." Speaking of, Diva rubs her face against Dante's, then hops down to do figure eights around Cris' legs. "And I need to get to Sitka and make sure everyone hasn't gotten too comfortable in my absence. Though the receipts I've been receiving have been quite good, all things considered." He rolls over and swings his legs off the side of the bed. "Are you happy with at least some of the work they've done in our absence?"

Cristobal says, "You're telling me that you want your brand new kitchen to look like granny's instead of the deep mahogany that will match the veining in the quartz countertops? I mean, I can call them if you want?" Cris thumbs over his shoulder like he'll make the call if Dante says the word, even though he looks like the thought will make him hurl. "I mean, why remodel at all? Next you'll tell me want to keep the flowered wall paper in the guest bath. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Trying not to trip on the cat trying to tangle up in his legs, Cris steps up Dante and palms his head with the hand wearing a matching ring to his husband's. "Happy, yes. Satisfied, no. Not until it's perfect for you.""

"My darling, one day I will take you to the grand country house that was my family estate. It is replete with oak and floral wallpaper. I think you forget that the condo at Bayside was fully decorated and furnished when I moved in." Dante kids, of course. One only has to look at Sitka and the work he went through to know that he is definitely a clean modern lines sort of man.

He sets a hand on Cristobal's hips, then leans forward to press a kiss just above his belly button. "Thank you, by the way. For your patience on the tour. Bethany quietly resented the attention I got at those events and hated attending them. And she certainly never went on tour with me."

"And miss the chance to see you in another one of your elements? Not a chance. Besides, someone had to glare and chase off the book bunnies when they got a little too enthusiastic with where they wanted the point of your felt tip pen." Cris finger combs Dante's dark hair until the locks curl around his knuckles before his grip tightens to urge Dante's head back so he can lean down and kiss him proper.

"I could always tell when someone had one of the older editions with the dorky jacket photo." Where Dante was wearing an ill-fitting sweater and browline glasses, with his hair in curls. His publisher's attempt to make him look relatable, and his ex-wife's attempt at integrating him into WASP New England life. "They'd be quite surprised when they got to the front of the line." He smiles that sharky smile of his, but that's cut off by the proper kiss. He lets it linger, never growing tired of his taste.

Cris' other hand curls at the joint of Dante's jaw during the kiss and sloooowly he pushes the other man back until he's supine on the mattress and being straddled and weighted down by the press of Cris' chest. "Bookish writer turned stone cold fox once he broke the bonds of toxic matrimony and found a good tailor."

"Confused British faded aristocrat wallows in the depths of straight life, hoping to ignore the fact that his tastes were far more broad." Dante catches the bottom of Cristobal's chin and tips it up. "...before a fateful shag in a dingy bathroom by a hot Latin lover spoiling for a fight." He wriggles a little beneath the other man. "I do have to say, this mattress is glorious."

"Your autobiography sounds kinda hot, Corizone, especially this Latin guy. Tell me more." Cris instructs as his mouth descends on Dante's neck, a laugh vibrating against the man's pulse as he luxuriates in definitely the wrong aspect of this little exercise. "You went from sleeping on my Abuela's ancient pull-out couch to hopping from hotel room to hotel room. Our spine's will never be the same."

Dante lets out a rumble in part from the kiss on his neck and to the talk of sore backs. "You remind me that I'm getting old," he murmurs. He had a rather expensive salon treatment to get rid of his grays for the tour, but they've slowly started to reappear and he hasn't mentioned a return visit. "I'm sure you can give my spine a realignment." He slides fingers through the other man's hair and tugs gently. "Mhmm. I can hardly believe it. Nowhere to rush off to. No caterers to call. No family or publicists to meet. No interviews to give. And...can you feel it? The sensation of everything returning now that we're back? I had barely even noticed it fading." He means, of course, their abilities connected to the Veil.

Cristobal says, "At least you talked me down from my Bridezilla tantrum before I murdered the florist and we went with something more simple and more suited to my rather...fiesta oriented family. And us, in the long run. If you survived that, I could survive a book tour." Cris might not be exactly focusing on Dante's spine when his hand slides under the man's rump for a squeeze. "Everything is back to normal, whatever that means in this town.""

"Your...cousin? Second cousin? The one with the large hair and the larger earrings. I swear she was trying to steal me away from you at your own damned wedding." Dante strokes along Cris' jaw. "I hope I made a good impression. And I am quite grateful that we have some time and space for ourselves now. I promise I won't throw myself into the next book or back at Sitka for a day, at laest. Maybe two." The smile splits again, brightening at the grope. "Fresh hands, fresh hands," he drawls.