 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
A smile curved immediately at the emphatic confirmation. "I should certainly hope so," he replied, entirely unrepentant. "It would be rather disappointing to discover you've been sharing my exclusive supply of Hartley goofiness with the general public."
His gaze warmed as he looked at him. The look of mock horror earned a laugh that Dafydd made no effort to suppress.
"Oh, you've absolutely fallen into your own trap." He lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment. "Years of compliments. Years of grand gestures. Years of insisting I'm apparently worthy of the moon and stars. The ego never stood a chance."
The softness that followed Hart's next words drew an equally fond look from him. "No," he admitted. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it." Nor did he particularly want to.
"That was only one of the reasons." Dafydd's tone remained perfectly serious for approximately half a second. "Another was the hope that one day I'd finally discover the upper limit of your enthusiasm." He shook his head lightly. "Three years later and I'm beginning to suspect there isn't one."
The sincerity that followed caused his own teasing expression to fade. His hand shifted across the table, resting briefly atop Hartley's. "You never need to thank me for that." Looking out for Hart had never felt like an obligation. It was simply something he wanted to do.
Dafydd pointed at him immediately. "There it is. The plotting." His eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "I knew it."
The mention of more surprises only confirmed every suspicion he had been developing over the course of the anniversary celebrations. And the question about a wishlist earned a thoughtful hum.
"A wishlist..." he repeated. His gaze drifted briefly toward the courtyard before returning to his husband. "Honestly? Not many things."
Material gifts had never held much appeal compared to shared experiences. After a moment, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Though if you're asking because you're secretly planning something—and let's be honest, you absolutely are—I suppose my answer is simple." His fingers brushed lightly against Hartley's as he beamed radiantly back at him. "More time with you."
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