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Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy you all the exact things that make you happy. When you have an overabundance of wealth, it’s easy to find pleasure in everything you do. So, what does one buy for the person that has everything? What do you gift the person held in greater regard than that of the king? That is Dante’s predicament as he strolls down the street, looking into the windows of the many decorative shops. Kleinmas is days away, and it would be rude to show up emptyhanded when he will be a guest in the vampire’s home. He cannot shame the Fire Territory by purchasing anything other than the best.
For now, he would start with wine. The vampire loves the stuff—not that he particularly cares what the vampire does or does not love—and Dante enjoys a glass every now and again. The rest of the gifts are selected at random. Many need to go to the castle for the king, but a select few are for Aster. He feels duty-bound to pick something up for the Grand Sorcerer as well, though Dante doesn’t put as much thought into it.
Kleinmas in the capital is hectic, something Dante is unfamiliar with in the quiets of the desert. Their customs are different with the absence of boats and water. His people usually celebrate amongst themselves, rather than in large groups throughout the cities, and all the time spent entertaining the orphans has worn him down in a way he never predicted.
He finds himself in bed (in Aster’s bed) after a particularly long day. His body is sore from lobbing snowballs in a battle that was far more serious than anticipated. Aster runs his fingers playfully along the plains of Dante’s chest, pink hair sweeping across his face.
“I heard you had quite the time out there, waging a war with children.”
Dante puffs his chest. “They were seasoned soldiers. I’ve never been in a snowball fight and was at a significant disadvantage.” Aster chuckles and presses his cheek against Dante’s collarbone. His hand snakes down the length of Dante’s arm, fingers intermingling with one another. Dante shivers.
“Are you cold?” asks Aster. He lifts his head and reaches for the blanket to pull it over their bodies.
“I am not used to the weather here in the Light Territory, but I could never feel cold with you.”
Aster narrows his gaze, but a blush dusts his cheeks. “You’re a bit of a romantic.”
“I try to be when I can,” he says.
Aster smirks. “Is that so? You’ll have to show me more of that romantic side in order for me to believe it.”
Dante hums lightly and cards his hand through Aster’s hair. His thumb grazes the apple of Aster’s cheek, and he tilts the vampire’s chin so that their lips can meet. “I would be happy to oblige,” he says against the corner of Aster’s mouth, and breathes in his sweet scent.