Work Text:
“There you go, nice and warm. Wow,” he had said, his voice a near whisper, his mesmerizing gaze focused on you so completely, “That color is beautiful on you, you know? Your eyes are glowing.”
You had thought that comment was ridiculous. Your eyes were glowing, when his were the ones worth talking about? Worth writing entire poems about if you were more eloquent.
You had blushed and changed the subject, his gaze lingering on you a little longer before accepting the conversation change and enjoying the rest of your walk together.
That conversation was a few weeks ago, before he left for Verona to visit his Aunt Talia and attend an old friend’s 20th wedding anniversary.
Now as you walk out of the Association building, cheeks warm from the memory, you bury yourself in the scarf, deep within the warm fabric.
As if knowing you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes.
*See you in 30 minutes, cutieeee. You’re not annoyed by my texts are you? Is that why you’re sending Thomas to pick me up instead of showing up yourself?*
Rolling your eyes, you’re still smiling when you respond.
*You know I’ve been working late since you left. My schedule will go back to normal tomorrow, now that you’re back :)*
The string of emojis he sends back is ludicrous, but it gets his message across.
Just 28 minutes to go!
˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚
When the familiar, sleek black Ferrari pulls up to the curb next to you, you try to imagine how this reunion is going to play out. Maybe you should have brought flowers? Rafayel is an avid enjoyer of beauty in all its forms and would probably love a bouquet. But that sorta makes you feel like one of his many fans. Maybe a single flower would have been better?
At any rate, you haven’t brought anything but yourself. He wouldn’t be expecting anything more than that, right?
Your thoughts are interrupted, however, when your boyfriend leans fully out of the rolled-down window.
“My scarf!” he points an accusing finger.
A few passing pedestrians glance over to get a look at the scarf thief and you turn away, hiding your face.
“I’ve been looking all over for it!” he continues, “I tore up the room I was staying in, thinking I’d misplaced it. Then when I couldn’t find it, I thought that maybe some sneaky little squid stole it right off my neck with their freaky little tentacles.”
Folding your arms across your chest, you decide you’re going to be just as dramatic right back at him, “Seriously? You let me borrow this scarf, Rafayel! You said the color looked beautiful on me, or did you already forget?”
His jaw drops and he opens the car door, rushing out without closing it behind him.
“Of course I didn’t forget! You were so beautiful that night, I thought I’d dreamed it. The same as right now, too,” he says, tentatively reaching toward you, as your arms are still folded defiantly across your chest, “I freaked out when I saw the scarf because it was from Talia and she lectured me the entire time I was in Verona about how I don’t take care of gifts. If I had remembered I’d left it in my cutie’s hands, I would have had a good excuse.”
Squinting at him, your arms fall and he smiles gently, lowering his eyes to yours, “I could get used to this, you know? Coming home to find you wearing my stuff. Next time, I’ll accidentally lend you something bigger. I have cashmere cardigans that are so soft, it feels like you’re drifting in sea foam.”