Valentines day with Lestat. Sfw, something sweet for once. Kind of an unfinished drabble? I didnt know where to end it.
Patiently you wait outside his manor door. The sun had gone down just enough for him to answer, you figured, glancing over your shoulder at the orange and pink hues of the sky.
Your arms were growing tired. Tucked in one was a bouquet of flowers— admittedly roses, though they werent your first choice at the market. In the other, two board game boxes and a small bag of game tiles. It was bananagrams at one point, but you had lost the bag.
Carefully you knock a second time, not wanting to drop anything and make a fool of yourself. Lestat was so ecstatic to see you; he could’ve shaken the house with how hard he swung the door open.
He leans towards you, those bright eyes of his sparkling with interest. He was always the gift giver, always the one making up grand gestures of love. “this is for me?” Is the first thing he thinks of.
“Happy valentines day!” You cheer, shifting the bouquet to hand it to him.
He takes your generous offer… and your board games, seeing as you were holding too much.
“What is this?” He asks, distracted by the bag of tiles. “Scrabble without the board?”
Lestat was… still curious when it came to modern things. Sure he had an okay grasp but, living as long as he did almost everything new was a wonder.
“No,” you move inside as he steps back. “Its bananagrams.”
“What a stupid name. What does banana have to do with it.”
“Well,” you begin. “It comes in a banana, usually. Like.. a bag, but I dont know where I put it.”
“So what do you do if it has no board?” He sets the other games down on the coffee table in his living room.
“If you give me a second maybe we can spend the evening playing. Ill teach you.”
“Oh, you know Im going to win,” he sparks with that competitive nature. “And what else— trouble, you know I dont like trouble.” He identifies the last board game but doesnt say anything.
“I have to win at something.” You argue playfully. He smiles, returning to you with arms open. You gladly hug him.
“Competitive even on a holiday about love,” he comments, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Fitting…”
You look up at him, matching his energy. “Ill have you flipping the table and cursing me in french by the end of the night.”
“Will you?” He asks, caressing your face with one hand. “I think… we should have some wine, relax, try this….”
He gestures to the bag. “Scrabble, and then whoever wins gets to decide what we do after.”
You like the sound of that. “What do I get if I win?”
“… whatever you please, love.” He promises.
He brings his hands down to your hips, slowly. “You know what I wager,” he replies in a soft tone. You roll your eyes.
“You can make love to me without making it a prize,” you step out of his hold, grabbing the game and moving to the large dining room table. “Pick something else.
“But it’s all I want, little bird,” he comes up behind you, tilting his head. “Nothing else will do.”
You stand up, both hands coming down on the table as you stare at the tiles in shock.
“Zinzolin is NOT a word.” You argue.
“It is!” He exclaims. “It is, it is!”
“What does it mean then, huh? Huh!” You walk over to where he’s sitting. He’s laughing, reaching for you as you shake him a little.
You both have had too much to drink.
“Its a color,” he lazily smiles, laughing so much his eyes are wet. “A color between blue and purple.”
“Thats VIOLET!” You exclaim.
“It is not, its different!” He insists.
“Youre cheating because youre a million years old.” You sit in his lap. “Thats it, I win by default.”
“Non,” he pecks your lips. “You cannot decide that, turn around and keep playing.”
“You just played a word that totally isnt a word with two zs.” You pout. “I am not playing against you, you have an advantage.”
“Who is fussing about losing now? Here you said it would be me.”
You kiss him again to shut him up. It turns into a hair grabbing, biting, laughter between kisses kind of makeout. It appears winning or losing, Lestat was going to get what he wanted.
