First request lmao It's....wanna say late 20s? just before the depression really hit, and they're snitching fruit from some farmer's small backyard orchard
Trying not to wake the farm hounds, or be seen by the people in the house
But the peaches smell too good to pass up
Thank you! love you babe -3-
Thanks love! Here we go.
Summer, 1924 - somewhere in Georgia.
The night is sticky with summer heat and humidity. It lays heavy on the back of Dwayne's neck, his hair clinging to his skin and the damp collar of his shirt. He's crouched in low bushes, the scent of dust and green plants heavy in every unneeded breath he takes. This is stupid. He knows it is, but there's an unspoken anticipation in his limbs. David is crouched next to him, his pale hair a beacon in the moonlight. It makes him easy to spot. Risky, given their current objective.
"Ready?" Dwayne asks. This close, it would probably be smarter to communicate with their bond instead of out loud, but he's nervous. Still new to this. David is a forgiving teacher though.
"Should be," comes the thought, soft as featherdown over Dwayne's senses. "Stay low, I'll watch our back."
Dwayne nods, creeping past the bushes and into the grove of neatly partitioned trees. The air turns sweet in his lungs, and he pauses.
"Something up?" David comes up behind him, hand hovering just above his shoulder. Dwayne's gaze tilts up. Above them, deep, purple-red fruit sways gently, like a collection of miniature hearts. Each one gives off a plume of rich, sweet scent. Bright, tantalizing. Dwayne looks back at David.
"Peaches."
David follows his example and looks up. A smile plays at his lips.
"Later. When we're done."
-
Three humans lay dead on the ground, farmhands who they'd baited outside with their typical hunting tricks. The stolen blood sits warm and heavy in Dwayne's stomach. David leans on him, wiping gore from his face.
"I think one of them was drunk," he slurs. His pupils are blown wide when he looks at Dwayne. "Care for a chaser?"
Dwayne laughs, feeling more than a little loopy himself. He gently pushes David off of him and lifts off the ground, floating into the canopy of the orchard above them. Up here, the sweet scent is nearly overpowering. He pulls on one of the peaches, a big, heavy thing, it's fuzz slightly damp from rain or dew. He swipes his thumb over its surface, once, twice, again. Below him, David whistles.
"You get lost up there?"
Dwayne snorts. "Just picking the best one."
"Well get down here so I can try it!" There's a laugh in David's voice, and oh, yes, he's definitely drunk. It must have been the skinny farmhand with the limp, Dwayne hadn't had any of him.
He drops down in front of David, presenting his prize. David appraises the fruit for a second, before taking it in both his hands and biting into it. Juice immediately drips onto Dwayne's palm, sticky and fragrant. David practically moans as he pulls away.
"Christ, that's so good. I haven't had something sweet in ages."
Dwayne snorts, bringing the peach to his own mouth and biting into it opposite of where David had. Sweetness explodes over his tongue, bright and sharp and rich, made better by the fresh blood that still lingers in his teeth. David might be drunk, but his reaction is warranted. It is good.
They gorge themself on fruit almost as much as they had on blood, laughing and shushing each other. It wouldn't do to get caught as thieves, when they'd just covered up the killing. Dwayne lays in the grass, full to bursting and starting to doze off. They need to get inside, but they have time. The sun won't be up for hours.
David collapses down next to him, a long, green leaf caught in his hair. Dwayne leans over to pluck it out, and David catches his hand.
"Hey," he breathes.
"Hey," Dwayne replies. Something warm is unspooling in his chest. He's not sure which one of them closes the gap, brings their lips together. But the brush of their lips is sweet, soft and gentle, even as they stick together.
It's a good night.