aftercare

[duke_of_illusions]

Barma wakes up an hour or so later, yawning.

Reaching to check on Al right away.

Comments

[al_truism]

"Mhm. Sleep, dear. You're still tired."

Al strokes behind his ear, that soft patch of skin.

[duke_of_illusions]

"I'll be up all night if I do."

Standing, with a yawn.

[al_truism]

Al rolls over to put his chin on his folded arms, watching him appreciatively.

[duke_of_illusions]

"It's too late for breakfast in bed, but I can offer you lunch."

Reaching down to stroke his hair back.

[al_truism]

Al sprawls out under his touch like a cat, almost purring.

"If it's light...?"

[duke_of_illusions]

"You need to eat."

Non-negotiable.

[al_truism]

Al isn't hungry at all, which is very rare. But he nods.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Wait here."

Kissing his forehead.

"I'll be back soon."

[al_truism]

Al gives him a little smile and tries to doze off while Barma is gone.

[duke_of_illusions]

He returns, a comparatively long while later, with more of his food. The sort that makes Al understand cooking as art. Crisp latkes with apple cherry sauce and sour cream, a chilled cucumber and basil soup.

[al_truism]

It's like absolutely nothing Al has seen before, but he's adventurous enough to try it all. He takes a special liking the latkes, especially because of the hint of apple.

"What are these?"

[duke_of_illusions]

"Potato and onion, mostly. A touch of flour and egg."

Joining him, tucking in.

[al_truism]

"They're really delicious. Kind of like pancakes but crispy."

[duke_of_illusions]

"They go well with sour cream, too."

Since there's a healthy dollop in the soup.

[al_truism]

"I'd like to learn how to make this, sometime."

He sips at the soup too, slowly.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Of course."

He smiles.

"I've liked the idea of cooking together."

[al_truism]

"I have an apron," he confesses. "With cat faces sewn on the edge."

[duke_of_illusions]

Barma smiles.

"Oh, well, in that case."

[al_truism]

Al just laughs, flushes when he realizes how silly he sounds.

"I feel drunk."

[duke_of_illusions]

"You probably are."

Informing him.

"It's the same idea."

[al_truism]

"The depressive element to it?"

He sets his cheek on Barma's shoulder.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Or the endorphins. The bubbly high. The slightly altered brain chemistry."

[al_truism]

"I don't feel very high right now," he admits. He's been somewhat quiet.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Still feeling it?"

[al_truism]

Al nods carefully, shutting his eyes.

"It'll be better soon," he tells him, hopeful.