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Am I allowed,
Deceit sat on the garden table, his legs crossed as he leaned forward, closer to the figure in front of him. In his gloved hand was a saucer, a teacup hovered right over it as he sipped delicately. He was quite content in this position, watching Roman fondly as he talked with wild gestures and natural enthusiasm, his body moving so much Deceit almost feared the prince would spill tea everywhere.
to look at him, like that?
He huffed a laugh as Roman nearly tripped backward in an attempt to act out how he defeated in the Dragon Witch.
“As dramatic as ever,” he said, sighing lightly, a teasing smile upon his face as Roman pouted in his direction, fixing his hair and placing the teacup back down on its saucer. “Where on earth do you get so much energy?”
“Perhaps it’s triggered by your presence,” Roman shot back, a smile on his face as he sat back down.
Could it be wrong,
“Now, I thought I was the one to make his way with flattery,” Deceit retorted as quickly as he could, his heart stuttering softly in its rhythm as Roman tilted his head back and gave a soft laugh in response.
The two gazed at each other, good-natured giggles erupting from their mouths. It was times like this that made Deceit feel like he was walking on air - no, not walking, dancing . It felt as if the two were hand in hand, a blur of twirls and dips and dramatic footwork, no second-hand decisions or guesses - just pure instinct driving the other towards one another. Their constant banter like fiery flamenco steps, and their soft whispers and gossips like a slow waltz.
when he’s just so nice to look at?
Time passed quickly as they continued talking and enjoying each other’s company, Deceit sharing a handful of his own thrilling experiences and stories that he had yet spilled to the prince. As always, though, the evening ended with deeper conversations, things they would never discuss with anyone else other than each other. In some ways, Deceit was glad the two had moments like these. Times like this, they were able to talk about insecurities, secrets, confessions.
This time, however, it was different.
Deceit noticed quickly while they were talking, Roman was more reluctant to give out information than he usually was. The prince was always eager to share his thoughts on things now that he realized it was a healthy habit to engage in. It was rather...odd, that Roman was withdrawing something. Deceit also took mind the fidgetting of his hands and the shifting of his position on the seat.
“Roman, is everything alright? You look as if there is something you wish to tell me,” Deceit started off carefully. If the princely side wished to continue and elaborate on his thoughts, he would move the conversation along; if he didn’t, then Deceit would drop it. There was no need to push it anymore if Roman wasn’t comfortable with the topic.
Roman opened his mouth as if he was going to protest, but he thought the better of it, most likely remembering the extent of Deceit’s abilities before he could try to maneuver out of his position. He took a deep breath. “If I... confessed something to you, Deceit, can you promise me that you won’t think of me any different?” he asked.
The question was rather unexpected and caught Deceit off-guard. He reached across the table and took Roman’s hands in his gloved-ones and looked him right in the eyes, twin green ones meeting his mismatched yellow and brown ones. “I promise with every ounce of truth I can muster, Roman, that no matter what you say in the next few minutes - or if you choose not to say, that’s alright as well - I will never think of you differently.”
Roman lost his words and simply sat there. Deceit was about to snap him back into reality when Roman looked down, his hands squeezing Deceit’s back. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said softly, his cheeks aflame, though, the liar wouldn’t have known as Roman had his face hidden.
Unsure if the other was to continue, Deceit waited patiently, his thumb brushing over the prince’s knuckles as Roman seemed to sort his emotions out and his thoughts.
Abruptly, he stood up, Deceit jolting in surprise as he did. “Roman?” he asked.
The only thing he got in response was Roman pulling him to stand up. The momentum of the tug was rather strong, however, and he fell into the other’s arms, the prince pulling him into a hug. Unsure exactly what to do with the situation and his conflicting emotions, Deceit wrapped his arms around the other, returning the hug. He heard a rumble of movement, Roman talking into his shoulder.
And he, smells like lemongrass and sleep
“What was that, Roman?”
Silence met his answer, then another muffled mumble. The hands enveloping him from behind tightened their grip, the fabric of Deceit’s cloak fisting in Roman’s hands.
Deceit laughed softly. “You have to speak up Roman, I thought to do that wasn’t an issue for you,” he teased amiably.
He heard a groan and Deceit felt a soft slap on the back from Roman. He let out another laugh. “Spit it out,” he said, looking at the other.
Roman poke his head out from Deceit’s shoulder, his face. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be,” he pouted, his arms coming in front and giving the liar a series of light, playful slaps.
Stifling more giggles, Deceit simply said, “Well that depends on what you wish to tell me.” The slaps slowly got softer. “Perhaps if you get it over quickly, like - ripping off a bandaid.”
Roman nodded, muttering under his breath ‘okay, okay, okay’. His hands flapped nervously and he started fidgetting again. He took a deep breath, the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. Deceit leaned forwards, waiting with much anticipation. He wished with all his heart they were the words he wanted the prince to say; what he wished to hear from him. As Roman’s lips opened, they simply let out a strangled noise before Roman buried his face back into Deceit’s shoulder, muffled screaming emitting from him.
Deceit couldn’t even feel the disappointment as he watched Roman hiding his face. His smile grew fond and he ran his fingers through the other’s hair. “It’s alright if you can’t say it, Roman. You always have other days,” he said serenely.
Roman resurfaced once more. He looked pained, but then his features morphed into something determined. He looked Deceit straight in the eyes, the green burning with a harsh need that surprised the liar as one hand came up to his cheek.
And his lips shot towards the other’s.
He, tastes like apple juice and peach
Deceit didn’t have time to hesitate - not even time to breathe. His hand instinctively cupped Roman’s face in return, his eyes closed and his body filled with warmth. It was as if he was floating; he was in absolute bliss.
Seconds, minutes, hours - time was irrelevant. The kiss had stayed consistent, differing ever so slightly every now and then, when they reconnected after taking a breath of air. It was slow - but not like ballroom dancing; it was fiery - but not like flamenco; it was loving, dramatic, soft, pure - everything at once. It was confusing bouts of twirls, leaps, movement and it was hectic, but it was more mesmerizing than anything Deceit had ever experienced.
Roman was the first to pull away for good, his face bearing a confused expression as if he had yet to process what had just happened. Deceit was sure he looked quite the same, but he quickly broke out of his trance and smiled, laughing softly. He hoped desperately this wasn’t some far off dream, his hands staying beside Roman’s face, thinking if he let go, he’d lose him.
Roman looked back at Deceit, smiling back. He gave a triumphant and disbelieving laugh, touching his lips in surprise and laughing again.
Laughter filled the area, the two gripping each other’s shoulders in order to maintain their balance, their foreheads touching. Once they regained their composure and their breathing was back to normal, Deceit leaned into the other, giving him another kiss. This one was quick and short, but no feeling was left out of it. Deceit wasn’t prepared for the love-filled look the princely side had in his eyes, his face slightly red.
Oh, you would find him for sure, in a polaroid picture
“Do you think of me any different?” Roman asked suddenly, his voice quiet, slightly breathless.
And he,
“If I thought of you any different, Roman, I wouldn’t ask for another kiss,” he replied wholeheartedly, leaning in once more. Another laugh left both their lips and another kiss they had, happiness coursing between them.
means everything to me.