Work Text:
Dante woke up without his lover by his side. His first response was to panic, but thankfully, the smell of breakfast penetrated the walls of the bedroom.
You were cooking. You hadn’t been taken by demons, whisked away by the devil’s assistant or other spawns nor had you ran away. Dante’s two biggest fears were subdued for now, but that didn’t stop him from hastily getting out of bed (forgetting to get dressed) to bolt to the kitchen.
And there you were.
Baking a… pizza?
“Morning Dante,” you greeted unfazed by his lack of clothing. "Here, put this on."
You handed his robe, fresh from the dryer. Dante put it on, the fabric soft and warm like your embrace.
"You're making pizza… for breakfast?"
"Yeah," you sighed. "I thought, why not? You wouldn't complain now, would you?"
"Babe, of course not," he beamed and kissed your cheek. Dante wrapped his arm around you. He wondered what he did to deserve you. He didn't know. You took care of the shop. He suspected that you knew magic by the way you got all the stains out of his clothes.
And above all, you were patient. With his life style, his antics, his family… and him. He didn’t know what to do when you first got together, but you wre
Dante planted a kiss on the top of your head.
"It's silly, maybe, but I wanted to celebrate our time together. My homemade pizza is far healthier than the stuff you order."
"Huh, didn't know you could make pizza. "
"I didn't," you confessed, "but I looked up a few recipes and tried them when you were out."
"You mean to tell me that I missed out on all these trial pizzas?"
"Well, the first two weren't exactly… edible. For the others…"
"There were more than two attempts?"
"Well, yes," you confessed once more. Dante pretended to be hurt by enacting getting shot. You tried not to laugh, but it was extremely hard to resist. The pizza was almost ready for the oven. Dante didn't have to ask. He knew that you knew which toppings he loved and hated.
Dante often felt that it was too good to be true. That one day you’d be gone and all this would become a bittersweet memory.
“Dante, I’m not going anywhere. Please, let me go,” you whined against his arm. His grip loosened up, but he wasn’t going to let go completely. Not ever. While he wanted to grab you by your waist and lift you on the counter, the pizza was done and you were just about to put in the oven.
Pizza first.
Cuddles second.
He turned around to grab a cup of coffee, only to find out that you had a pot and two mugs ready. Was there something you hadn’t thought of?
Dante grabbed you anyways. The packet of grated cheese you were holding was thrown up into the air as he lifted you on his shoulder.
“Time to show my thanks,” he said.
“You have five minutes before the pizza’s done.”
“I can show you in three.”