Summary: Restarting C.A.T. OS
Sweat glistened on Reaper's forehead. He furrowed his brows in concentration as his steady hands carefully lowered the final piece of bread atop the sandwich plated on the marble counter below. It settled perfectly. Thus, marking the end of the most perilous part of his cooking journey.
Grinning, the death god jabbed a toothpick in the center of his creation and popped a black olive on top. Then placed french fries, apple slices, and a sauce dish containing a generous helping of ketchup alongside it.
He took a step back, admiring his work.
Truly, it was a lunch fit for a king- or his lovely husband, in this case.
Here's hoping Geno isn't craving something else now.
But if he is, I certainly would not mind eating this and making him something different. Reaper thought, eyeing the flawless layers of meat, cheese, and vegetables between the sandwich's bread.
I wonder if I could get away with taking a bite...
He quickly dismissed the notion; dared not give in to the more feral, bird-like part of his mind screaming at him to peck the food apart... and dig through the trash can beside the counter. (Geno would never forgive him- whether that be for serving him food with garbage on his hands or creating a mess in the kitchen. Again.)
Giving his skull a shake, attempting to clear the foul thoughts, the dark-cloaked skeleton moved to the fridge and procured a cup of iced tea (his lover's current favorite drink) from inside.
Afterward, he grabbed the sandwich's plate with his blue magic before exiting the door leading out to the garden: a surprisingly lush grove holding numerous plants (flowers, fruit trees [apple, pomegranate, etc.], and bushes) located behind his and Geno's dark mansion, brought to life by the latter's impeccable green thumb.
Sometimes, it even seemed like the Goddess of Life herself was jealous of the mortal's influence over the cursed, desolate lands Reaper had long since called home.
The death god hummed softly, allowing his feet to carry him down the stone path to where a small resting area sat. It didn't take long until he reached a large hammock tied between two trees amongst the outdoor furnishings (chairs, tables, etc.). Inside the makeshift bed laid a familiar, red/white-clad skeleton.
"Geno, my dove, lunch is read..." Reaper trailed off as he took in the other's form- curled on his side, a hand lightly resting on his distended belly, and pale red drool dripping down his slightly parted jaws.
A soft smile worked its way up the dark-cloaked skeleton's face. He slowly guided the plate his magic held to sit on the dark, metallic table next to the hammock and added the tea along with it.
"Heh... Guess I took a little too long making that Sanswich if you're dead asleep now." He mused.
This turn of events wasn't too much of a surprise, though. His beloved had taken to napping rather frequently as of late through no fault of his own.
In fact, one could say it was more Reaper's fault than anything else.
His empty sockets came to rest on his husband's swollen stomach, catching the briefest glimpse of a tiny purple souling fluttering around within.
Our little Gothy.
His smile stretched wider. Thereafter, he ever-so-delicately placed a hand atop his lover's baby bump, hoping to be gentle enough to go unnoticed. However, soon found that hope dashed when the other instantly released a quiet, "Mrrp?"
Like those sleeping cats he had seen pet owners disturb in passing.
Try as he might, Reaper couldn't resist snorting before falling to his knees and clutching the side of the hammock as he chuckled.
Geno shifted and blinked sleepily at him.
"Wha's 'unny?" The bloody skeleton slurred, a frown coming to play along his jaws.
The death god stifled his laughter enough to answer, "Nothing. Just thinking about how much I- I love you."
"Tha's... s'upid." Geno grumbled.
Reaper smirked, noting the light red hue creeping across his skull while he turned to face the other direction to sleep. "Perhaps. But I enjoy thinking about it, nonetheless."