Wriothesley and Neuvillette enjoy an impromptu picnic.

--

"Wriothesley—"

"Don't take that tone with me. Do you know how long it took for me to convince Sedene to reschedule your afternoon appointments?"

Neuvillette's mouth snaps shut, and he gives him a dry, amused huff. "Knowing Sedene's tendency to intervene, not long."

Judging by the grin that cracks wide across Wriothesley's face, he's hit the nail on the head. Sedene is dutiful and a damned good secretary, but when it comes to him and Wriothesley... Well. She's shipped them together for years, as the young folk say, long before the two of them ever entertained courting.

"Beloved," Neuvillette tries again, only for Wriothesley to reach out and pinch his nose sharply.

"A picnic," says Wriothesley. "That's all that I want."

Neuvillette glances around the room. "We're in my office," he replies, his voice stuffy due to Wriotehsley's thumb and forefinger sealing off his nose.

Wriothesley laughs and lets go. "So? A few candles, a nice blanket, some tea, and pastries—that's a picnic even if we spend it on the couch." He drags the tip of his pointer finger down the bridge of Neuvillette's nose. "Sweetheart—" Even with the years that have passed, Neuvillette still cringes at the pet name. "—I miss you. Would it kill you to carve out like..." Wriothesley glances at the clock. "Fifteen minutes?"

He supposes not. "You've come all this way," murmurs Neuvillette, tilting his face slightly to nuzzle Wriothesley's palm. "I suppose that I can spare some time for my mate."

Wriothesley's hands are warm against his as he tugs Neuvillette to his feet. Neuvillette leans in, allowing Wriothesley to press a kiss to his brow, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "At least that, otherwise this song and dance would be mighty awkward."

"You said there'd be candles."

"Well, I brought one at least."

A snort of laughter. Wriothesley grabs Neuvillette's mouth and gives him a proper kiss, one that lasts, where his tongue traces his lips and sneaks past his teeth; one that leaves Neuvillette losing his balance when he finally pulls away.

"Tea," says Neuvillette then, "you know I barely like tea."

"Fear not, for I brought my handsome husband the finest of waters from the jade-encrusted banks of Chenyu Vale."

Neuvillette feels warmth bleed through his chest. He trills, a strange churring sound with an edge of annoyance. Husband. What a bland term that doesn't mean enough.

But Wriothesley knows that. He chuckles at Neuvillette's pinched brow, reaching up to thumb over it. "Let's go sit. I'll feed you by hand."

"You will not." Neuvillette isn't a hatchling. He needs no help.

At the same time, perhaps it would be romantic. He thinks of Wriothesley's knuckles brushing over his lips, the pads of his fingertips catching against his fangs. Neuvillette could suckle them, could—

"That water," says Wriothesley, pulling at Neuvillette.

He clears his throat and goes, trailing behind him quietly.

It is less of a picnic and more of a... spread. Wriothesley has put out the thick blanket Navia crocheted for them several years back. There is a teapot and a ceramic cup. A jar of crisp, clean water, and a plate of plain pastries. One lone candle that Wriothesley lights after striking a match against the sole of his boot.

When the mood is set they both settle in, feeling a little silly, a little youthful as they sit there on the floor knocking knees.

"I won't feed you," Wriothesley promises, "but I wasn't joking about the fancy water." He pours out a glass and hands it to Neuvillette, their fingers brushing against each other.

Fifteen minutes, Wriothesley asked for. In the grand scheme of their days, it is not much. But at that moment, it stretches into a lifetime, and Neuvillette finds himself wishing that it never ends. They sit too close. Wriothesley is noisy as he sips his tea, and the smile he wears is a wicked, curved thing.

"Sweetheart, what's it going to take for you to come to bed on time? Do I need to put in a formal request?"

Neuvillette huffs. "I already chose to work from home today."

"Which is almost worse. We both work too much."

His home office is comfier and quieter, but Wriothesley proves to be an apt distraction. A picnic indeed.

"Hey, I know that face," says Wriothesley, scooting closer. "You miss me too, mate. Don't make me bribe you with your name."

Oh. "What a cruel thing to tease when you know that our time is limited."

"Doesn't have to be. I already said that Sedene cleared your afternoon."

Neuvillette tilts closer. Hums softly as their tea and water are forgotten. Wriothesley cups his face and says his name, his first name, and Neuvillette tries and fails to ignore the heat that sinks into his gut. Even older now, with lines around his mouth and crow's feet pulling at his eyes; even though Neuvillette has heard him say this a thousand times, it never gets old.

"As I said—cruel. How will I focus on work now?"

Wriothesley's breath is warm against his mouth as he laughs. "You don't. Enjoy the water, enjoy the pastries, and then we can enjoy each other."

What a delicious temptation. Neuvillette nips at Wriothesley's mouth before pulling away.

"Also," continues Wriothesley, "tomorrow—"

"Tomorrow?"

"Sedene cleared your schedule for tomorrow, too. You didn't have any trials. Any appointments were moved back."

"At your request, no doubt."

"Actually, no. That was all her, so if you want to file a complaint, I think it's form F-413."

"This time, I'll forgo the form." They forgo the rest of their picnic too as Neuvillette sets his water to the side. He kisses Wriothesley again, and it's a sweet and lazy thing. They sink into each other with laughter against lips, and wandering hands squeezing at too-thick shirt fabric.

"I love you," whispers Wriothesley against his mouth. "Just in case you forgot."

Neuvillette could never, but Wriothesley doesn't need that reminder. He just laughs and dips forward again, the space between them ceasing entirely.