Work Text:
So maybe, maybe , Taako is in love with Kravitz.
Maybe .
In his defense, though, the nerd is sweet and charming and funny and kind and , literally, drop-dead gorgeous .
Taako never really stood a chance.
And, honestly, why would he even want to, when Krav is so—is so—
Gods , Taako loves him.
He loves him, and he loves his stupid, dumbass sweaters and his goofy accents and his terrible sock collection. He loves the way Kravitz is so awkward with people, the way he stutters and stammers when confronted with an actual, living person. He loves the way Kravitz laughs, the way he smiles, the way he places absent-minded kisses to the top of Taako’s head.
And maybe he loves the way Kravitz does the sappiest fucking shit.
Like now, for instance.
Taako is cooking. Or, at least, he was cooking. He was cooking some bomb-ass lemon salmon and roasted broccoli with mashed potatoes and yeast rolls. He was making a nice meal for when Magnus and Merle and Angus and the Blupjeans squad came over for their weekly family dinner (Gods, fantasy-Jesus fuck , when had they become so fucking domestic , what kind of fucking bullshit —).
Everything was going according to plan.
But then, then , Kravitz had walked into the kitchen, wearing black chinos and a red sweater vest over a grey button-up (with the sleeves rolled up, godsdamn it, was he trying to kill Taako, did he want his boyfriend dead?) and smiling like an idiot and—
Well.
He’d looked so damn beautiful, and Taako had never been good at resisting beautiful things.
He’d sat his wooden spoon down and smiled, and Krav had placed a kiss on his cheek, and apparently, Taako was soft now because he’d just about melted.
There had been music playing softly, something sweet and slow, from one of Barry’s magic coins he’d left over at their house a few weeks back.
This means that now, now Kravitz has taken one of Taako’s hands in own and has placed the other on Taako’s waist. It means that now Kravitz is leading Taako around the room in what Taako thinks might technically be a waltz.
They’re slow dancing.
In the kitchen.
Taako is wearing a purple apron that says You Know, From TV on it and a pair of neon green shorts and some of Krav’s socks (shut up, the tile was cold ) and not much else, and he can smell the fish cooking behind him, and at any fucking moment his whole ass family could walk in and see, and Taako…
Doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care because this? This right here? The feeling of Kravitz’s hands cool against his skin, the quiet sound of a piano and a violin drifting through the air, the way the evening light is streaming through the kitchen window, bathing everything in a soft golden glow and highlighting the love in Kravitz’s eyes?
This, Taako thinks, is what happily ever after feels like.
So he rests his head against Kravitz’s chest as they sway across the kitchen floor, and he smiles, and the world seems, for a moment, perfect.