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Weddings were a big deal for the Charlotte family, and even that was a bit of an understatement. Rosinante could sense the weight of their developing relationship on Katakuri’s shoulders, and for months now, he attributed that pressure to the concept of marriage that must’ve been lurking in the back of his mind.
Sooner or later, it became impossible to deny that their “mutual acquaintanceship” to “amicable friendship” to “friends who flirt” to “it’s complicated” to “secretly dating” to “madly in love” wouldn’t progress into something serious, long-term, and ideally, permanent.
He couldn’t blame Katakuri for feeling apprehensive about moving forward. Even beyond the nerves of a proposal or wedding, it was the family itself that was going to be disastrous. Big Mom was frankly, horrifying, as were ninety-percent of this guy’s siblings, (not that Rosinante could judge in that department), and then there was the matter of his own bloodline—god knew what they’d make of Katakuri’s little arm-trophy if they learned the scrappy, useless blond had pedigree blood lineage.
There was also Law. Something in his gut told him Law would not be particularly pleased to learn that his beloved guardian was going to dig himself into this mess for something as silly as love.
Alright, so maybe Rosinante was the one carrying most of the marriage-related baggage. And maybe that’s why it made this conversation even easier.
“What are you thinking about?” Katakuri was actually the one to kick things off. Rosinante was leaning against the kitchen counters while his partner kneaded dough for dinner rolls. Rolls he’d be eating by himself, unfortunately.
“Huh? Oh—I, I dunno, nothing much…”
“You’re smoking. You’re upset about something.”
Rosinante fluttered his eyes with an easy smile. Katakuri was facing away, god, the view was nice from here, the apron cinched around his waist, amplifying a different pair of buns.
“Just uh, it’s…nothing, really. Conversation for another day.”
“Is there a reason we can’t discuss it now?”
“Just don’t want to…stir the pot right now, I guess.”
Broad shoulders paused their churning as he turned to meet Rosinante’s eye. “Something about us is upsetting you?”
“It’s nothing.” Rosinante felt the nonchalance slip away from him, replaced by earnestly. “Er—well, it’s just…” Katakuri stared on patiently, let Rosinante gather himself a little. “We’ve been together for a while, yeah?”
“We have, yes. Or, well, I guess it depends on when you consider us officially getting together, but, yes. Why?”
A shallow sigh left his chest. “Well, I know marriage is a…big thing in your family, yeah?”
Katakuri’s studded brow rose. This time, he had nothing to say. He just nodded.
“That’s, that’s it exactly.” Rosinante pointed at his half-visible expression with his cigarette. “I can tell it’s stressing you out. Thinking about marriage. So I just—I wanted to clarify it’s okay if we don’t get married. It’s not going to change my opinion of you or the love I have for you.”
Katakuri did some more staring. Then he focused on the dough again. Rosinante puffed on his cigarette and gave him the time to think. It was only fair.
“To be honest with you, Rosinante, I really haven’t been thinking about marriage.”
Rosinante wasn’t sure if he should feel wounded or relieved.
“I assumed that was something you’d never be interested in,” Katakuri continued, “I mean, we haven’t even…”
Again, Katakuri paused. Rosinante slowly lowered his cigarette as he caught onto Katakuri’s unspoken tangent. “Hey, it’s alright. You know I don’t mind.”
A more heated, irritated sigh sounded from Katakuri. “It’s not alright. You—you hardly know what I am, what I look like. And you think I’m planning to wed you? I couldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rosinante chuckled, “Kata, you’re not a monster. Or, you’re no more a monster than I am, I’m sure.” He extended a rational hand. “Everyone has boundaries. I don’t need to see your mouth, and even then, you know I’ll love you no matter what.”
“But you don’t get it.” Katakuri gave him his full attention now, shoulders square to Rosinante’s, drawing in to ensure the conversation was truly serious. “What does the couple do at the end of the ceremony?”
Rosinante rolled his eyes. “Again, we don’t have to do anything traditionally—”
“Mama wouldn’t want anything else.”
The repressed tension in Rosinante’s chest fizzled up again. “Which is why I propose we don’t get married at all—”
“And what? Keep you as a little, dirty secret? Because I don’t want to risk losing you?”
Rosinante’s mouth opened to protest, before he cut himself off. “…losing me?” he whispered, “Kata…”
Katakuri tore away and adjusted his scarf anxiously. “There’s a reason I never considered you a monster. Not even your ancestors. I’m…I’m something else entirely. It’s different.”
“Yeah. I agree.” Rosinante pushed in and forced him to turn around with a firm grip to the arm. Forced eye contact again. “Whatever you are is leagues better than anything I came from. I love you for who you are, Katakuri, not your appearance. I don’t know how else to explain it to you.”
His reddish eyes shifted aside, then closed. “Suppose we’ll put your declaration to the test, then.”
Rosinante gave him space when Katakuri reached for that scarf and pulled it over his head. The teeth. The scars. The quivering scowl. It was mesmerizing to watch his mouth open, to watch his lips compensate around fangs to shape his words so flawlessly.
“Do you understand, now? Do you understand why this could never work?”
Rosinante watched the scarf hit the ground. Good. He’d never need to put it back on in his presence. “Can I have a closer look?”
Katakuri sighed and rolled his eyes. “I suppose.”
When he leaned in, Rosinante indulged in impulse, as always. Grasped him by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss. Sharp teeth pressed flat against his lips, but there was flesh beneath. There was a feeling, loving human. A pounding heartbeat.
Rosinante let his weight settle back onto his heels when he felt Katakuri pull away. Even then, he stayed in Rosinante’s space, hunched over. Internally prepared for more, maybe. “…did you just…?”
“Yes.” Rosinante grinned, “And I’ll do it again if you’ll let me.”
“…I’ve never kissed anybody before. Er—well…I’ve…maybe kissed a few donuts…” His face lit up with embarrassment that he’d blame from the endorphins of acceptance. “I don’t think that counts, though.”
His face was so warm in Rosinante’s palms when he smiled. Even the scars near the heels of his hands didn’t feel so harsh. “Well, you can kiss me whenever you please.”
“Gladly.” Katakuri grunted, scooping Rosinante up into his arms and sealing their lips together for what would likely be hours. There was lost time to make up for.