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Roland flips through the case of DVDs. All white and without official labels - just the title of the movie written in Sharpie.
It was a decently large collection, mostly children's movies Roland has watched with his siblings. Some action movies he never got around to watching. And a few documentaries on topics Roland was far too sheltered to have watched, and comedies he recognizes.
But he has barely scratched the surface of the mass of DVDs when Vanitas enters the room, again. Coming from tucking Mikhail in, with loud protests and a near wrestling match between the two siblings. It is always a struggle to get Mikhail to bed, but especially when Roland is over. The little ball of energy demands his attention at all times, asking a hundred questions and having activities for them to do together until bedtime.
Vanitas is almost ready to blow by the half hour past 10 mark.
She’s on the phone, now, talking about something Roland has no context for, but she’s leaning against the archway for the hallway. Sleep shorts loose around her thighs and tank top exposing a bit of her sports bra. Her hair is up in a bun. Still in the style for when she cooked dinner.
Roland smiles, watching her talk away into her phone. Her subtle, nervous ticks coming out as she paces the little space at the archway. Picking up and setting down her own decor and books. Always hating being on the phone, preferring to talk in person rather than through a crackly speaker.
“Yeah. I’ll tell him. Are you - yes - are you stopping by this weekend?” She makes eye contact with Roland, his grin contagious as she gives him her small, genuine smile in return. “Okay. Are you bringing- What?”
She, eventually, gives up on this being a short conversation, and walks towards Roland. Swaying her hips as she usually does. Taking the DVD case off of his lap and replacing it with herself. Plopping down casually, thighs straddling Roland’s as she listens to the other line.
Roland’s hands slide up her thighs, inching his fingertips inside the sleep shorts, just barely. Her touch ghosting her hidden skin.
“Roland says hi. Yes, he’s here.” Vanitas bites her lip, either fighting back a frown or a smile. “Shut the hell up. I’m so sick of you.”
Roland mouths, when she looks at him again, Who is that?
“Noé,” she says, “No, I was talking to Roland… Ugh , Noé says hi.”
“Is he coming for Saturday?”
“Yeah.” She picks an eyelash off of Roland’s face. Blowing it off her finger herself. “Oh my God, no. I’m sick of playing telephone between you two idiots. We’ll see you - and Astolfo, yes, on Saturday. Tell him then.”
Although Roland can hear Noé’s voice continuing through the speaker, Vanitas snaps the phone shut, harshly. Throwing it on the other cushion of the couch - which they will no doubt be ripping away when the phone becomes inevitably lost.
Vanitas kisses him, smiling and carding her fingers through his curls. “Did you pick out a movie?”
“Not yet.”
Things were still new for them, for everyone around them. Roland has been staying the night a few times a week since the night they went home together from the bar. Mikhail fell in love with him even more than he was when he was simply the Sunday school teacher. Asking Vanitas when he’ll be over next - becoming more and more used to his presence in their life.
And, now, just a few weeks in, Vanitas is letting them play board games together while they wait for pizza to be delivered at Roland's expense.
Her heart and anxiety fight between deciding on if it’s a good thing to have Mikhail exposed to the situation when she herself isn’t quite sure what to make of it. If it will last or not. Between her swings of ignoring Roland for days and inviting him over after work consistently - it’s an absolute trainwreck that Vanitas should have better control over.
But…
She grabs the case, fitting it between their stomachs and flipping through it herself. “These are mostly Mikhail’s movies I burned when I was in High School.”
“Whatever you wanna put on is good, baby.” Roland’s hands slide up to her waist. “Are you hungry? Do you want popcorn?”
“If you’re making popcorn, we need to pick a horror movie.” She flips some odd amount of pages. And a few more when she hasn't found her desired content. She brightens when she hits her goal, sliding the DVD out of the slot and poking one finger through the hole. “This one.”
“What's that?” Roland tries to read what's written on the front. High-School-Vanitas' scrawl wasn't easy to read, especially when Vanitas hides the front toward her chest. A mischievous smile on her face.
“Nightmare on Elm Street. Have you watched it?”
Roland shakes his head, letting her close the case and toss it beside him. Still holding the DVD protectively against her tank top. Roland slides his thumb under the hem, smiling along with the silliness of Vanitas. He asks, “how scary is it?”
“You’ll hate it.” Vanitas kisses him. Tongue tasting like the orange soda she had. “Wanna watch?”
“I’d love to.” His grip tightens on her waist. “So, popcorn?”
“Yes.” Vanitas takes the bottom of her tank top and cleans the DVD of dust and grim. Roland wastes no time, picking her up with ease. She doesn't even flinch, doesn't react to being lifted so easily. The practice has been in place since they first hooked up. Vanitas, on his lap, and not moving until she is made to move. Roland shifts her and lets her flop sideways onto the couch cushions.
She just continues cleaning. “Make it like a sane person, or get me my own bowl.”
“Okay, my love.” Roland stands, but bends immediately to kiss her forehead. “Butter?”
“Only a little.”
“Alright then.” Roland moves off of her space, walking to the kitchen to make them their popcorn.
____
When Vanitas wakes, it’s to a small hand bumping her shoulder softly. A fluff of messy, white hair blurring into focus.
It’s dark now. Some time during the movie she must’ve fallen asleep cuddled up next to Roland. Taking advantage of the furnace that he is on the cooling summer night. He always let her sleep, even when she fought against it - loving her night owl tendencies to get extra things done she wouldn't have time for in the afternoons.
She was on her side, with Roland’s belly pressed against her back and their legs tangled together. They’re hot and sticky laying together as he sleeps away peacefully. The TV off with the movie long forgotten - the only light coming from the kitchen. No doubt from the small hands that are trying to get her attention now.
“ Hey ,” Mikhail whispers. A sleepy whine along with it.
“Hey, kiddo.” Vanitas’ voice is hoarse with sleep. “What are you doing awake?”
Roland must have turned off the fan after she fell asleep. The atmosphere is dry and hot in the apartment, the sweat on their exposed skin making them stick together as Vanitas moves Roland’s arm off her waist.
“I’m hungry.”
Vanitas yawns, looking back to her - Roland - who was slowly waking, too, from the commotion as she sits up. His green eyes illuminate in the warm kitchen light as he blinks awake.
“Well, what do you want?” Vanitas asks, untangling their legs.
“Mac ‘n cheese.”
Roland places his palm underneath her tank top. Pressing a reassuring hand to her back to soothe her achy muscles she stretches out. Fingertips slipping under the back of her sports bra. He’s still half asleep, never doing anything more than a Bible-School-level kiss in front of Mikhail. His sleepy brain is almost entirely focused on catering to Vanitas. He says, between a yawn, “I can make him some, sweetheart.”
Vanitas uses the kitchen light to steal a look at Roland’s watch. Grabbing his wrist up as his body submits to her every want. Going along with where she drags him to.
3:09a.m.
“It’s too late to be cooking. Do you want cereal or a peanut butter sandwich, Mikhail?”
“Sandwich,” He pouts. But stops when Roland sits up fully behind Vanitas. Kissing her cheek and maneuvering around her. Sitting beside her as Mikhail looks at them expectantly.
“I’ll make you one, Misha.” Roland smiles at him. His sleepy eyes not holding as much childlike wonder as usual, but Mikhail grins anyway. Roland picks Vanitas up, getting her on his lap before standing with her attached. She barely has the conscious awareness to react. Roland continues, talking down to Mikhail where he stands, “I’m going to take your sister to bed first, okay? She’s had a long day.”
“Fiiiiine.” He rolls his big, round eyes and marches off to the kitchen where he will wait like a king for his jester to come entertain him. Which Roland is the perfect person to fill the role for.
“Ready, baby?” Roland starts off toward her room.
Vanitas presses her face into his neck. “You don’t have to take me to bed, blondie.”
“But I am.” He yawns as they enter through the door of the bedroom. Careful not to bang her knees on the frame or any of her furniture.
Roland dips, placing her softly onto the mattress for her to gently melt into. He whispers into her ear, “See? You’re a princess.”
“Ugh, you’re so stupid. I hate when you say shit like that.” But her arms remain linked around his neck, keeping him in place - hovering above her.
They stay like that for a moment. Sleepy blinks and tired stares all accompanied by love and soft kisses. Roland’s arms frame her shoulders, keeping him held above her as she deepens one of the kisses, slipping her tongue into his mouth to lick against his.
“No, you don't,” Roland says once Vanitas breaks apart from his lips.
“Don’t tell me what I hate. I hate you .”
Roland kisses her, a small, quick one. “Do you want some water, babygirl?”
“Yes.” Vanitas slides her hands from his neck to ease her palms onto his cheeks. Keeping him even closer, sleepily addicted to his presence. “Please.”
“Of course.” Another kiss before she lets him go. “I’ll be back, then. Do you want me to put Misha to bed after he eats?”
Vanitas nods, eyes feeling heavy as the comforting feeling of domesticity fills her insides. The absence of worry for anyone but herself tucking Mikhail in and the abundance of trust lolling her to sleep. She lets her head fall to the side, cheek against a cooled pillow.
“I’ll be back in soon.”
“Hmph. Hurry.”
Roland kisses her cheek.