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“Your collar is askew.”
Vespasian turns in Asahi’s direction, amusement at his own deja vu tugging on his lips. Where has he heard this before? Right, of course. “I recall you saying something to that effect upon our first meeting,” he reminisces, equally as fond as reprimanding, “after pulling my cravat out of alignment in the first place.”
Asahi steps closer, making a show of adjusting the collar. He runs his fingers over the fabric, straightening it with practiced precision. The touch lingers just enough to feel the warmth of Vespasian’s skin. “You remember the most trivial of details,” he comments, his tone bordering on teasing. “In my defense, you were a tad too uptight that evening.”
Even as he scoffs, Vespasian leans forward to ease the shorter man’s job. He closes his eyes in contentment as his partner’s fingers brush against his neck. “And you had no comprehension of your place,” he jabs back. “If I had any sense in me, I wouldn’t have hired you.”
Asahi smirks as he continues to diligently adjust the collar and the cravat, taking extra care to get every detail perfect. “And yet, here we are,” he responds, his voice as velvety as the prince’s shirt. “You couldn’t resist my charm, could you?” He finishes his work, satisfied with the way the fabric sits against Vespasian’s slender neck, and lightly pinches his chin between his fingers. Vespasian’s whine in response delights a proper smile onto his visage.
Vespasian swats his hand away as he opens his eyes, pretending to be agitated by the impudent action. But there’s no denying the way his cheeks flush; Asahi knows what he’s doing. “You still enjoy pushing my buttons too much for your own good,” he mutters, folding his arms across his chest. His frown lacks any real sharpness, though, which Asahi takes as a victory, and takes the opportunity to invade his personal space all over again.
The former agent thinks he’s hilarious as his hand travels to the lower fasteners on his jacket, making his statement literal. He shrugs his shoulders in a gesture of feigned innocence, taking another step closer until Vespasian is pressed between his body and the desk. The smirk on his lips broadens as the prince is forced to crane his neck downward to look at him and his fingers dancing across his body.
“Can you blame me for relishing in the thrill?” he purrs. “You make it so irresistibly easy, with those adorable scowls you give me.”
Vespasian huffs, as if expunging heat from his cheeks. His hand darts to grab Asahi’s by the wrist before it gets too bold. “Don’t you dare rile me up right before I meet your parents over tea.”
A mischievous glint sparks in Asahi’s eyes as he relishes the feeling of the prince’s grip on his wrist. He leans in close and whispers, “Afraid your self-control might snap, my Lord?” His words carry a teasing lilt, and he takes great joy in the way Vespasian shivers lightly in response. His thumb rubs slow circles over the pulse point on the other man’s palm.
A surprisingly sincere pout is his reward. It tastes different than the ones before, and it makes him take a merciful step back. “You know I wish for their approval, is all.”
Asahi blinks; he hadn't expected his jesting to be answered with such honesty. It’s endearing, how desperately Vespasian wants to make a good impression. The desire for parental approval hangs over him like a shroud. He’s seen the man in many states: exasperated, frustrated, despairing even… but this, this vulnerability is rare to witness. Asahi reaches out to entwine their fingers. “They’ll adore you,” he promises, his voice uncharacteristically warm.
“You’re certain?” Vespasian pleads for reassurance. “From what you’ve shared, I’ve gathered Mrs.Naeuri can be… particular.”
“You’re not entirely wrong,” Asahi chuckles gently. “My mother can be quite the perfectionist. But that simply means she’ll appreciate your good manners and attention to detail. She’ll notice the effort you’ve put into preparing for this meeting.” He gives his hand a squeeze, hoping to calm the anxiety that lingers in Vespasian’s features. “And my father? He’ll be impressed by your intellect and ambition. Just show them the same devotion you give the Empire, and they’ll be all but swooning.”
Vespasian appears somewhat soothed, the frown on his face softening just a fraction as he nods. However, he then gives Asahi a sharp jab with his elbow, the mood shifting back to its usual playful nature. “Watch your own manners then. Make sure not to bring up embarrassing moments.” His eyes narrow in a mock-threatening glare. “Or I’ll make you regret it later.”
Asahi rubs the spot on his side where Vespasian just elbowed him. It didn’t hurt much, but he makes a show of wincing in pain and pouts dramatically. “You’re so cruel to me,” he whines, his gaze shifting upwards to give his partner a pleading look. This act, of course, is mostly an exaggeration, a part of their familiar routine. He’s more than willing to play along, just to see the fond annoyance flicker in Vespasian’s gaze.
“I can be much more cruel than that,” Vespasian threatens him with a good time; he must be aware, for a smile that hardly shows on his lips in his attempt at being stern gleams in his eyes. He takes the opportunity to stand up from the desk and tweaks his collar again. “Still presentable? I believe it’s about time to head out.”
Asahi shoots Vespasian a smile, amused by the prince’s meticulous attention to detail. He tenderly smooths the material around his neck. “You look perfectly fine. I promise my parents aren’t waiting to pounce on every minute imperfection.”
Vespasian hums in acknowledgement. “You’re right. Just you wait until I deem it time to show you to my mother for that experience.”
Despite his efforts to portray otherwise, Asahi knows he’s mentally listing off all the possible ways to mess up. It’ll do him no good to worry himself into a tizzy, so Asahi takes it upon himself to distract him. He links their arms together, guiding them towards the door.
“Come on, Galvus,” he encourages, giving his partner a tug forward. “Let’s get going before you work yourself into a nervous wreck.”