(no subject)
Firenze, 1516
Ezio reaches to steal a pastry from the counter.
"Stop that," she says, curtly, and he has to pull his fingers back to avoid getting them smacked. Sofia moves from the stove and back to the kitchen table, paring knife in hand and a basket of carrots tucked under the other arm, leaving Ezio standing at the counter and fixing those pastries with a longing look.
He'd been so close to getting one, too.
"I just wanted to look," he says, dismissively, as if he hadn't wanted any at all. In reality, he doesn't fancy the idea of waiting until after dinner; they're fresh out of the oven and steaming now, and they won't be in hours, when they've finished dinner.
"They're for dessert," Sofia informs him. There's no smile, but he knows every line of her face, and so he knows when there's a smile lurking just under the surface. He tugs them out every time.
"I know that," he informs her.
She fixes him with an unamused look before going back to preparing the carrots. Ezio just tries to look blameless. He probably shouldn't get in her hair when she's trying to make dinner for two babies, her husband, her sister-in-law and brother-in-law and their children, as well as a collection of their friends. He's supposed to be doing other things around the villa to prepare, anyway.
His eyes drift to the pastries again. They'd probably be very good with his new wine, which he's already been through a bottle of today, but he doesn't want to get a rolling pin to the knuckles. Instead, he sidles up behind her and puts his arms around her waist. She keeps cutting those carrots, but she leans back into his touch regardless, back of her head nearly against his shoulder. He tips his head to press a kiss to her neck, and her blade pauses as she closes her eyes and leans into that, too.
"That isn't going to get you any, mio amore," she says, but she doesn't leave his arms. She sets the knife down and folds her arms against his, completely leant against him, head tilted to look at his face. There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Save it for tonight. You can have your dessert then."
He raises his eyebrows slightly.
"Mio amore, I am saving you for tonight. I just want a taste now."
Sofia laughs and reaches back to slap him on the hip with the flat of her hand. He lets her go, grinning, and she waves in the general direction of the pastries.
"Va bene. But just one! And then go finish up work before your sister arrives."
He intentionally picks the biggest of the lot, before gleefully heading out of the kitchen again, pastry in hand. The first bite is delicious.
"It's good," he calls from the doorway, around a mouthful of apple. "But you're better."
"That was never even questioned," she replies, before giving him a 'shoo' gesture, that smile growing a touch wider.
Ezio reaches to steal a pastry from the counter.
"Stop that," she says, curtly, and he has to pull his fingers back to avoid getting them smacked. Sofia moves from the stove and back to the kitchen table, paring knife in hand and a basket of carrots tucked under the other arm, leaving Ezio standing at the counter and fixing those pastries with a longing look.
He'd been so close to getting one, too.
"I just wanted to look," he says, dismissively, as if he hadn't wanted any at all. In reality, he doesn't fancy the idea of waiting until after dinner; they're fresh out of the oven and steaming now, and they won't be in hours, when they've finished dinner.
"They're for dessert," Sofia informs him. There's no smile, but he knows every line of her face, and so he knows when there's a smile lurking just under the surface. He tugs them out every time.
"I know that," he informs her.
She fixes him with an unamused look before going back to preparing the carrots. Ezio just tries to look blameless. He probably shouldn't get in her hair when she's trying to make dinner for two babies, her husband, her sister-in-law and brother-in-law and their children, as well as a collection of their friends. He's supposed to be doing other things around the villa to prepare, anyway.
His eyes drift to the pastries again. They'd probably be very good with his new wine, which he's already been through a bottle of today, but he doesn't want to get a rolling pin to the knuckles. Instead, he sidles up behind her and puts his arms around her waist. She keeps cutting those carrots, but she leans back into his touch regardless, back of her head nearly against his shoulder. He tips his head to press a kiss to her neck, and her blade pauses as she closes her eyes and leans into that, too.
"That isn't going to get you any, mio amore," she says, but she doesn't leave his arms. She sets the knife down and folds her arms against his, completely leant against him, head tilted to look at his face. There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Save it for tonight. You can have your dessert then."
He raises his eyebrows slightly.
"Mio amore, I am saving you for tonight. I just want a taste now."
Sofia laughs and reaches back to slap him on the hip with the flat of her hand. He lets her go, grinning, and she waves in the general direction of the pastries.
"Va bene. But just one! And then go finish up work before your sister arrives."
He intentionally picks the biggest of the lot, before gleefully heading out of the kitchen again, pastry in hand. The first bite is delicious.
"It's good," he calls from the doorway, around a mouthful of apple. "But you're better."
"That was never even questioned," she replies, before giving him a 'shoo' gesture, that smile growing a touch wider.