 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
Dafydd caught the way Hartley's attention lingered and, naturally, chose to make absolutely no mention of it. The temptation to call him out was certainly there, but watching Hart attempt subtlety was far more entertaining. "Good," he said, simple but sincere. "Because I've grown rather accustomed to being the only person entitled to all of that." His gaze flicked knowingly over Hartley. "The heart, the goofiness, the staring when you think you’re being discreet. All of it." There. He had lasted almost an entire minute.
His brow rose at Hartley's claim of enjoying being trapped. "Dangerous thing to admit to your husband." The words were dry, but the smile beneath them was unmistakable. Dafydd let his thumb make one more slow pass over Hartley's knuckles before stilling.
"And I think we're going to have to agree that fortune was rather evenly distributed." He tilted his head. "You make me happy too, Hart. Ridiculously so, actually." There was a brief pause before his mouth curved. "You can bask in that admission for the next five minutes. After that, I reserve the right to deny ever saying anything so sentimental."
The eyebrow-wiggling immediately restored the playful suspicion to Dafydd's expression. "Flirtation always. Yes, that sounds about right." He watched the attempted air of mystery unfold and somehow managed not to laugh for all of two seconds. "And you cannot say 'neither confirm nor deny' while looking like a child who's just hidden something behind his back and expect me not to assume the worst." His eyes narrowed further. "Entirely your fault."
The accusation had Dafydd pressing one hand lightly against his chest. "I'm making you melt?" he repeated, as though the notion were completely unreasonable. His gaze moved pointedly over his husband before returning to his face, amusement brightening it. "If a few nice words and a kiss to the hand are enough to reduce you to a puddle in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, I'm afraid that sounds like a personal vulnerability rather than something I can reasonably be blamed for."
Still, Hartley had a point about the food. Dafydd looked toward the spread and gave a resigned hum. "Fine. Food first, before you start accusing me of ruining dinner through excessive affection." He reluctantly withdrew his hand and reached for his cutlery, though his eyes remained on Hartley for another moment.
"But I'm warning you now: eating does not mean I've forgotten whatever suspicious things you’ve apparently planned." His lips twitched. "I can eat and interrogate you at the same time. Marriage has made me very efficient."
__________________
 |