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Dark and Wilford were lounging on the couch, peacefully. It was mostly silent, with Wilford idly pulling and eating cotton candy from a small tub, and Dark half-heartedly reading a book The Host had recommended.
“It’s interesting. The Host said there was a lovely twist in this, but I can already tell the supposed love affair is a red herring.”
Wilford looked at Dark curiously.
“You know, I really didn’t take Hosty for the saucy housewife literature type.”
“Oh, no. This isn’t his typical cup of tea, but his new Braille order is taking longer than usual to arrive. He’s getting desperate. Likely gave this to me as some sort of a practical joke.”
Wilford rolled his eyes a little.
“Of course. Recommending a bad book seems like the exact kind of so-called prank Hosty would indulge in. What a laugh. Telling Doc all about how he really got Darkiplier good this time.”
Dark couldn’t help but crack a smile at the absurdity of Wilfords words, how Wilford seemed almost insulted that anything so mediocre could be considered a practical joke, since Wilford thought he was quite the joking expert.
Wilford huffed, and there was more silence between the two, Wilford eating his cotton candy a little faster now and Dark finding himself getting into the plot almost ironically.
Wilford spoke up after seeming to be caught in a train of thought.
“Maybe the red herring IS the red herring!”
A voice appeared from the hallway, buzzing slightly.
“That’s a fuckin’ redundant statement, even for yer standards, Loon.”
Wilfords eyes lit up.
“Kitten!”
Anti had taken to nicknaming Wilford in some rather backhanded ways. But, of course, Wilford loved it. Dark struggled to not get defensive about Wilfords questionable sanity, but Anti meant it in a loving way and Wilford took it as such, so he supposed there was no real harm. Maybe Wilford just loves nicknames and enjoyed actually getting them back since he gave them out so often.
Anti pointed to the tub sitting in Wilfords lap.
“Vacate. That’s my spot.”
Wilford picked up the tub and hugged it against his chest.
“But you’ll hurt his feelings...”
Dark plucked the tub out of Wilfords hands and put it to the side.
“Don’t assert your gendered pronouns or need for human emotions on the fairy floss, love.”
Dark brushed down Wilfords lap like it was good upholstery and patted it invitingly.
“Come sit, pet.”
Anti obeyed, even though that had been what he wanted to do anyway. He put the majority of his weight onto Wilford deliberately, with only his lower legs treading into Darks lap territory. He lay curled up, mostly, and almost immediately started kneading at Wilfords thighs.
Wilford hissed, because Antis “claws” were nothing to snub ones nose at, especially when Anti was being very deliberate about it. It was almost hot, Antis face right next to Wilford crotch and all, but not quite.
“Kitten, that’s - ow.”
Anti let out something close to a growl in response and Wilford raised his eyebrows.
“Alright, someone’s being a sour-puss today.”
Dark laughed softly at the strange exchange, and put a hand on Antis leg.
“Does our pet want tummy rubs?”
Dark saying it was... strange, but also made it more comforting. And despite his pride, Anti decided to turn around in confirmation. He elbowed Wilford a couple of times in the process, and lay on his back, looking at Dark expectedly.
Dark smiled and lifted Antis shirt, running his cool fingers across his chest, almost his stomach, teasing his happy trail innocently. Anti seemed far too content over something so simple but sometimes he just... got really into the whole headspace of just being taken care of, normal expectations be damned.
Wilford watched that pleasant exchange a tad shocked, and slightly offended.
“Why is he so responsive with you today?!”
“Because I didn’t try to replace him with fairy floss.”