daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[Ardyn would've lazed in bed with her as long as she liked, content in every imaginable way. But first and foremost he wants to spend time with her (for wasn't that what this day was about?), so when she gets up, of course he's going to find himself dressed and following. It may be hurriedly and a bit carelessly, but since when does he care so much about his appearance that he must have every little detail set correctly into place? He's sure he looks fine.

Honestly, he just wants to be near. That's all that matters.]

All right. And what is it that you're making, again?

[If she needs assistance, his hands are hers. Until then, he's content with watching.]

Shortbread, but there's going to be a raspberry filling.

[which she's also just decided on. strawberry is tricky on a good day, so she retrieves the berries from the fridge and hands them to him, plus a bowl.]

Could you wash them?

[she's proud of herself for putting out butter to soften before he'd even come over. perfect. meanwhile she's measuring out flour to mix with the baking powder and salt - gentle, she always has to be gentler than she thinks she is, because it's too easy to get a face full of flour.]

[It certainly sounds appetizing, that much is for certain. And when she suggests that Ardyn should wash the berries, he straightens and takes them from her, along with the bowl.]

Of course. An easy enough task for one such as myself.

[He chuckles to himself as he settles next to the sink, preparing everything to be washed. He rolls up his sleeves, and starts to run the water. Time to wash the berries, which honestly is the easier of the tasks -- as compared to her having to measure out the flour without turning it into a comedy of errors.

He speaks as he works.]

How very domestic, all of this. [It's said with a smile, therefore it's a good kind of domesticity.]

Domestic? You really think so?

[sugar and butter goes in another bowl to be mixed on its own, and that doesn't need a delicate touch. that can be beaten well, and it'll take her a minute or two to do this. she knows exactly how to do this - she's done it before - but it's the first time she had an assistant.

it's also not something she'd classify as domestic - but then again, her meter for what's domestic is very narrow.]

[The sound of the sink running provides a sort of white noise to their conversation for now, at least until he's finished with his task. It requires a gentle patience, so that the raspberries don't bruise.]

Don't you? What would you call it then?

Domestic is as good as a word as any other, I suppose. I'll allow it.

[it's more that it's relieving to get to have this calm - to be able to indulge themselves like this in the space between things happening. she may know exactly what goes where and for how long, and it may require precision, but...she's missed this, and in the end that's why she's up instead of lying in bed committing his face to even better memory.]

I haven't made this in a while, so if it comes out terrible, I want the honest review. Don't spare my feelings when it comes to something so important.

[She'll allow it, she says. He his shakes his head a bit, clearly still amused, but has little else to offer on the thought -- honestly, he could apply the word "domestic" to the entirety of the day, and mean it as nothing more than a compliment.]

I'll be the harshest critic you can imagine; almost as bad as in the classroom. No worries there.

[But he's sure there's no need for it. It'll turn out fine.

The berries are washed now, ready in their bowl and drained of excess water. Set aside until they're ready to be utilized.]

[it's not hard to mix butter this soft, but it needs to be light. lighter than this - and while mixers do exist, sometimes she likes doing it by hand. being able to do something with a careful purpose.]

Good, because I want them to taste good for you. Otherwise, there was no point in getting up at all.

[not for her, not for whoever's going to get the extra. for him, for no other reason than he's here.]

And we would have had these earlier if someone wasn't so decidedly ready to hasten things along.

[she can't say that when she was the opposite of complaining.]

[How unfairly sweet of her to say such things, that she would devote all of this to him. How on earth was he supposed to remain critical after that admission? (He can’t. He simply can’t.) One would think that after being so intimate with each other not that long ago, Ardyn would not be so prone to feeling flustered. This isn’t the case, noted by the way he glances to the side, and deciding that his hands need to be doing something, he plucks a raspberry from the bowl and tosses it into his mouth.]

Hm. [-is his very eloquent response. The berry is both sweet and tart, and goes down with relative ease.

It doesn’t take him terribly long to recover once he puts his mind to it, though. Smile turning wry, he continues.]

You’re far too good to me, Grell. Do you know that?

[He leans against the counter again, sliding back into a teasing lilt of his words. Drama ekes through, as is habit.] Humoring my impatience when all you hoped to do was just bake. Shuffling back out here in a hurry so that you could return to your original goals, in such haste that you’d not even bother putting your pants back on. What a fiend I must be, for my mind to have been so focused on sex that I was blinded to everything else.

[this is the kind of drama she can't even pretend to go along with for long before she's laughing again, looking back at him, unable to cover her mouth and muffle it because she's occupied. a fiend. that's too much.]

It's my apartment, I don't need pants to bake. And what haste?

[what was hasty about slowly dragging herself up and not putting on pants because it was more effort and unnecessary even as half of her had been debating leaving it be and staying exactly where she was?]

You're just jealous that in the end I chose this over lingering in your arms.

Jealous? Over a bit of butter and flour? Even I have more pride than that.

[But his smile is cracking at the edges, too, as he tries not to drop the act just yet. While he'd hate for her to get flour everywhere, he doesn't hate it enough to stop his dramatics. Honestly, this is tame as compared to the usual.

It's her apartment, and she doesn't need pants, though... That almost undoes his composure, but he manages to hold on.]

And why do you enjoy the freedom of no-pants while I find myself confined and restricted to proper leg coverage?

No one but yourself went and constrained you so. I certainly could not pass judgement if you saw fit to leave off articles of clothing - with none to witness but me, the question of propriety is less than moot.

[this is mild, yes, but she's also in a mindset to laugh more than usual, which makes it harder to stay serious.]

[Mildly ridiculous is about to become ridiculous cranked up to eleven, and he gives her fair warning by way of:]

Is that an invitation for me to remove my pants? Right here, in the kitchen?

Do I look in any way inclined to stop you?

[her hands are full. she can't stop him even if she wanted to. this'll be the second time he stripped to prove a point, she thinks.]

[Stripping to prove a point is the only way to go about it, honestly.

And so, if the invitation is real (for the theatricality certainly is), Ardyn finds it literally impossible to decline at this point. Therefore his pants are therefore unbuttoned and removed rather swiftly, and he's left quite literally standing there in just his shirt and boxers.

He holds up the article of clothing in one hand, as if to say, ta-da.]

Ah, freedom.

[for a second, Grell looks at him in disbelief.

and then she starts laughing again, arms moving to put the bowl down before she's laughing twice as hard as she was earlier, bracing herself on the counter as she just laughs at how ridiculous and cute and amazing it all is, that they were both the sort of people who'd do that to emphasize whatever point they were making. she hasn't laughed this hard in a long while, and when she catches her breath, she has to take off her glasses to wipe at her eyes.]

[He stands there, pants still bunched up in his hands, trying to look Very Dramatic in the newfound freedom his legs have found. But the sound of her laughter -- and the sight of her having to put the bowl down so that she can brace herself against the counter -- is just enough to crack his figurative armor.

He tries to speak, but it's interrupted by laughter making his words particularly difficult to form.]

What... [He tries again.] Why on earth are you laughing? This is... a very serious matter.

Serious as the grave.

[her shoulders are shaking, threatening to boil over into more laughter in the next five seconds.]

And yet...

[no, she's lost it again. thank god the counter's there or she'd fall over.]

[Any hope of regaining his composure is lost upon seeing her start doubling over in laughter the second time. The mask of theatricality slips, and Ardyn finds himself laughing with her -- wholly and openly, a very sincere sounding thing.

Despite himself, he's still trying to speak, even as he places his own hand on the counter to lean into just a bit in the meanwhile. And yes, he still has his pants in his other hand.]

You're-

[This is one of those moments where he's laughing because she's laughing and it's just one giant loop of laughter. Somehow, Ardyn still miraculously manages:]

You're laughing at me, as if I look ridiculous or something!

No, no, I-

[they're both laughing, which means that taking the few steps over to him is a difficult matter when all her breath is stolen, but she manages so that she can place her free hand on his chest.]

I'm laughing at us.

[and because, honestly, she's happy right now.]

[He places his hand over hers when she puts it on his chest, grinning wide. Give him a moment or two and he'll be able to speak without having to fight his way through so much laughter.]

Us? What about us?

[As if he doesn't know exactly what it is about the two of them that makes this so ridiculous -- and therefore completely worth it.]

We're-

[breathe. breathe. she has to breathe. so that she can look at him again without losing it, though the smile on her face doesn't dim.]

I love you.

[that says enough, she thinks. they're ridiculous and out of their minds with dramatics and she couldn't be happier about that fact. she loves him - loves that he can make her laugh so hard that her stomach hurts and that they play off each other so well and that she feels comfortable enough around him to yes, forego pants and be domestic. it's a perfect day she half feels she hasn't earned, but that she has regardless.]

[Unfair. A hundred times over, it's unfair that she can look up at him with a grin like that. His fingers clasp around her hand slightly, giving it a little squeeze of affection, and his own laughter has subsided long enough for him to return the sentiment.]

And I love you.

[He leans in to give her a kiss. Ridiculous fools in love that they are, standing in the middle of the kitchen only partly-clothed, being silly and dramatic and yes, domestic. After he pulls away, he adds:]

Even with no pants on. Especially with no pants on.

[fools, and even more so, thinking about how long it's been. how long it could have been, if they had taken a chance or read the signs better. yet in a sense, Grell thinks she's grateful for it - she got to learn his favorites and the way he was before stepping into the unknown. if she looks at it that way, it makes each kiss even better.]

Oh, especially? Now you've gone and shown your hand, that wearing pants is one of the few ways to keep you in check.

[That's almost enough to incite another wave of laughter from Ardyn, but he somehow manages to keep it in check. He's absolutely delighted with the direction this conversation has taken.]

You say that, and whether or not it's true, you can't possibly remain with your pants perpetually on in my presence from here on out. Therefore, I'll never truly be kept in check. So sorry to tell you.

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

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