 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
He opened his mouth to tell Hartley something along the lines of 'Lettuce turnip the beet and not take things so seriously,' but a set of lips were on his before he could say anything. Dafydd smiled into the kiss, his heart doing a little flip. He could never get over just how much Hart meant to him.
When they pulled apart, his playful demeanor returned, though his heart was still racing. "You say that now, but wait until I start burning toast," he teased, though his expression softened immediately. He knew how sincere Hartley was, and it meant the world to hear those words. "You're the only one I want to be doing this with too," Dafydd murmured, his hand lightly brushing Hartley's cheek, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, tracing the line of his jaw.
"Alright, it's settled then. Dinner in, cooked by us," he grinned, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of creating something together. "But I'll definitely take you up on that offer if I end up losing this battle with the spatulas." He laughed, gesturing toward the mess of kitchen utensils that had been taunting him since they started unpacking.
Daf leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, considering their options. "How about something simple tonight? Pasta, maybe?" He paused, looking into Hartley's eyes. "I'll even let you take charge of the sauce. Sound like a plan?"
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