Orlin was cooking a romantic dinner. He had been feeling rather useless lately, and decided to do something a bit different. It had been ages since he'd cooked properly.
Camulus was singing under his breath when he came into the apartment. Unlike usually when he sang, it was in English and Orlin might catch a few lines of, ". . . boldly taking to his feet, he beat a very brave retreat, bravest of the braaaave, Sir Robin . . ."
"Mmm." Orlin murmred, "Because my reputation just couldn't take the threat of vegetables." he said with a small smirk as he pulled back and returned to the chopping.
Camulus didn't move, resting his chin on Orlin's shoulder as he watched him chop. A rumbling hum started somewhere deep in his throat. And this time it was one of Mochta's.
"Should there be an occasion for me to cook?" Orlin asked amused, "It could be an anniverary of something, although I'm not sure. Perhaps when the first being ascended, or arriving. I'm horrible with dates."
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On to the onions.
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Camulus actually ignored him. He was too comfortable, holding Orlin close like this.
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"Love, could you hand me that?" he asked, pointing to something just out of his reach down the counter top.
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