Date Night
hailprodigalson:
He’d failed in his cooking attempt. Apparently, he was impaired enough that the concept of watching the pan on the stove had been a little too complex to handle. (But he’d phoned for pizza, so.)
The wailing beyond his door nearly startled him into dropping a nice bottle of scotch, but he recovered quickly (miraculously) and left the half-full glass and bottle on his kitchen island to let Bert in before he got them both in trouble.
“You’re dying, huh?” he offered in greeting as he opened the door, an amused smile already sitting on his face. He reached out to curl his fingers into Bert’s shirt and tug him far enough inside to get the door closed. “Do I need to kiss it better?”
Bert practically purred as Apollo grabbed hold of him, immediately letting himself fall against his body, draping his arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck. “Mm, please do~...” he murmured drunkenly, thankful for the handful of shots he had decided to down right before leaving the bar he’d been settled in. He felt utterly blissed out, and being against someone at the moment felt like heaven.
“You always smell so good, what the fuck,” he continued as he playfully nipped at Apollo’s collarbone. “Fuckin’ fancy ‘spensive cologne. S’fuckin’ yummy. You... are a yummy son of a bitch, Apollo, I missed youuuuu~”
