July prompt: Picture prompt 1, cafe.
Title/Prompt: Picture prompt 1 - Café.
Character: Blaise Zabini (au.)
Pairing: Blaise/Tom.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, Blaise would look like Hans Matheson.
Word count: 792
After all the stresses of dealing with politics in its various forms, Blaise insists on taking Tom somewhere to wind down and rest. "'s all very well to go into battle, yeah? But everyone needs some r and r," Blaise insists, and Tom sighs, knowing that his lover is right and he can't argue with Blaise's logic. Seeing the nod of agreement, Blaise smiles gently, takes Tom's hand in his own, and Disapparates them to Italy, to the town of Ladispoli on the west coast just outside of Rome.
It's early spring, and there's been a recent shower, the trees are dripping water from their leaves and limbs as Blaise and Tom, hand in hand, walk through the streets towards a small café that Blaise says is owned by his family on his father's side. The family live above and behind the café, in large, warm rooms: loud cousins and a cheerful aunt and uncle. But visiting with the loud Zabini clan is not what Blaise has in mind as he draws his uncle aside.
Tom looks on with wide eyes, still so unused to such loud, cheerful families, and follows Blaise trustingly when he leads the way to the café which is closed, and out to the covered area at the back. The tables are all packed up, bar one, which has been set with a cloth, plates, bowls, glasses and cutlery. Gently Blaise presses Tom into a chair, sits in another and takes his lover's hand in his own. It's quiet out here, and warm, for there is an open log fire close by, and the view of the back quarter of the café is pretty. Potted plants bob their heads in the soft breeze that blows off the Mediterranean sea, droplets of rain water splashing into puddles around the bases of terracotta pots. Chairs and tables, slick and shining with the water from the recent rainfall shine in the light of glowing lamps, and Blaise, holding Tom's hand, can feel his lover slowly begin to relax.
Food is brought -- antipasto, and they eat, talking of small, unimportant things as Blaise's uncle brings a carafe of house red wine, pours for them, and smiles as he heads back into the kitchen to prepare the main course. The food is good - warm and plentiful and fills the both of them, and as they sit back and hold hands, talking quietly in between courses, Tom smiles at his lover, squeezes his fingers and thanks him.
"For what, dooshyenka?" Blaise smiles as he lights a cigarette, grey smoke spiralling lazily into the air.
"For knowing what I need better than I know myself." Tom smiles back at him, reaches over with his free hand to gently push errant strands of black hair back from Blaise's face. "You take such good care of me."
"Yeah, I know." Blaise grins broadly and Tom sticks his tongue out, making Blaise laugh. "So you feel better, then?"
"Yes, I do. The food is wonderful, the location is beautiful and the company is perfect." Tom grins at Blaise, feeling perfectly at ease in letting his shields down a little here, where he is not the Dark Lord with his Lieutenant, but simply Tom with his bonded, Blaise.
"You work too hard." It's an old argument, and Tom shrugs as Blaise says it. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You'll promise to take it easy, and do that for about a day then go back to being a workaholic. You'll wear yourself out, babe, and I don't want you to make yourself sick with it."
"How could I wear myself out with you taking care of me?" The words are softened by the loving gaze that Tom gives his lover and it's Blaise's turn to stick his tongue out.
"Brat," he teases, and Tom laughs.
The next course is brought then, pasta heaped high on white plates, a silver bowl with freshly grated parmesan cheese, piping hot garlic bread and another carafe of wine along with a bottle of chilled water. They eat and talk and relax, and as the spring rain starts to fall again, a gentle staccato upon the steel roof, Blaise squeezes Tom's fingers gently once more. "Happy?"
"Always, with you."
Blaise beams at him. "That makes me happy."
Around a mouthful of pasta, Tom smiles at him, looks around their peaceful, almost serene surroundings, then back to his lover. "I'm so glad we found each other, Love."
Blaise brushes a kiss over his lover's knuckles. "So 'm I," he says softly. "So 'm I."
Character: Blaise Zabini (au.)
Pairing: Blaise/Tom.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, Blaise would look like Hans Matheson.
Word count: 792
After all the stresses of dealing with politics in its various forms, Blaise insists on taking Tom somewhere to wind down and rest. "'s all very well to go into battle, yeah? But everyone needs some r and r," Blaise insists, and Tom sighs, knowing that his lover is right and he can't argue with Blaise's logic. Seeing the nod of agreement, Blaise smiles gently, takes Tom's hand in his own, and Disapparates them to Italy, to the town of Ladispoli on the west coast just outside of Rome.
It's early spring, and there's been a recent shower, the trees are dripping water from their leaves and limbs as Blaise and Tom, hand in hand, walk through the streets towards a small café that Blaise says is owned by his family on his father's side. The family live above and behind the café, in large, warm rooms: loud cousins and a cheerful aunt and uncle. But visiting with the loud Zabini clan is not what Blaise has in mind as he draws his uncle aside.
Tom looks on with wide eyes, still so unused to such loud, cheerful families, and follows Blaise trustingly when he leads the way to the café which is closed, and out to the covered area at the back. The tables are all packed up, bar one, which has been set with a cloth, plates, bowls, glasses and cutlery. Gently Blaise presses Tom into a chair, sits in another and takes his lover's hand in his own. It's quiet out here, and warm, for there is an open log fire close by, and the view of the back quarter of the café is pretty. Potted plants bob their heads in the soft breeze that blows off the Mediterranean sea, droplets of rain water splashing into puddles around the bases of terracotta pots. Chairs and tables, slick and shining with the water from the recent rainfall shine in the light of glowing lamps, and Blaise, holding Tom's hand, can feel his lover slowly begin to relax.
Food is brought -- antipasto, and they eat, talking of small, unimportant things as Blaise's uncle brings a carafe of house red wine, pours for them, and smiles as he heads back into the kitchen to prepare the main course. The food is good - warm and plentiful and fills the both of them, and as they sit back and hold hands, talking quietly in between courses, Tom smiles at his lover, squeezes his fingers and thanks him.
"For what, dooshyenka?" Blaise smiles as he lights a cigarette, grey smoke spiralling lazily into the air.
"For knowing what I need better than I know myself." Tom smiles back at him, reaches over with his free hand to gently push errant strands of black hair back from Blaise's face. "You take such good care of me."
"Yeah, I know." Blaise grins broadly and Tom sticks his tongue out, making Blaise laugh. "So you feel better, then?"
"Yes, I do. The food is wonderful, the location is beautiful and the company is perfect." Tom grins at Blaise, feeling perfectly at ease in letting his shields down a little here, where he is not the Dark Lord with his Lieutenant, but simply Tom with his bonded, Blaise.
"You work too hard." It's an old argument, and Tom shrugs as Blaise says it. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You'll promise to take it easy, and do that for about a day then go back to being a workaholic. You'll wear yourself out, babe, and I don't want you to make yourself sick with it."
"How could I wear myself out with you taking care of me?" The words are softened by the loving gaze that Tom gives his lover and it's Blaise's turn to stick his tongue out.
"Brat," he teases, and Tom laughs.
The next course is brought then, pasta heaped high on white plates, a silver bowl with freshly grated parmesan cheese, piping hot garlic bread and another carafe of wine along with a bottle of chilled water. They eat and talk and relax, and as the spring rain starts to fall again, a gentle staccato upon the steel roof, Blaise squeezes Tom's fingers gently once more. "Happy?"
"Always, with you."
Blaise beams at him. "That makes me happy."
Around a mouthful of pasta, Tom smiles at him, looks around their peaceful, almost serene surroundings, then back to his lover. "I'm so glad we found each other, Love."
Blaise brushes a kiss over his lover's knuckles. "So 'm I," he says softly. "So 'm I."