HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MILET.

[longlivesealand]

WHO: Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland
WHEN: Tuesday evening, August 10th.
WHERE: Raivis' flat.
WHAT: It's been a hell of a year... In celebration of their first anniversary, Peter decides to cook dinner for Raivis. Oh, did we forget that Peter is actually English?

Comments

[longlivesealand]

Peter licked his lips after the kiss. A grin naturally garnished his childish face as his fingers caressed the back of Raivis’ hand. The smell of smoke filling the apartment did not seem to faze him. Not even a screen of grayness shrouding the ceiling could pry Peter away from his husband. It was thanked to Raivis’ persistent shoving that Peter found himself on his feet, treading with a pout toward the kitchen.

His pot of soup was hissing angrily at him, scolding him for leaving it alone for so long like a bitter mistress. He strolled toward the stove, puzzled at the dim fire burning at the base, as he was certain that he had turned off all the fire. Once the soup settled down, Peter assessed his anniversary dinner; it was just not going to do.

He opened up the cupboards, on his tip-toes, and looked at the pack of ramen, canned soup, and condiments. Unless he could cook a meal out of ketchup and vegemite, Peter just wasn’t sure how he was going to make it.

“Raivis,” he called out, washing his hands in the sink, “Would you care to try that Indian place downstairs? I’ve heard good things about it, you know!”

[man_nav_naudas]

The lit match held up to a candle wick tumbled to the floor when Raivis jumped in place and he bit his lip to keep from shouting, hastily stomping it out before fishing for another.

"I-Indian?" He cleared his throat, moved over to the candles crowning the bookshelf then placed the little box down once he realized there was no point if they'd be leaving. "Ahh, if that's what you'd like to do! Maybe we could go to that cafe we went to. On our... our fist date."

A glance toward his room, a glance toward the kitchen. Raivis gravitated toward the door, slinking in quickly to fumble around his desk for the pair of small objects he'd kept there. One was more than easily located, its oddly shaped form perched on top of a neatly arranged tower of novels. The other, however, remained hidden.

Panic began to set in. Where? Where had it gone?

[longlivesealand]

Hands dried, Peter made his reappearance in the living room. Only to see that Raivis was not there. And if Raivis was not there in the living room, then where could Raivis be?

He wandered to the table and stared at the salad he had purchased from the grocers. It would be a waste to toss the perfectly editable and non-burnt appetizers. He picked up the bowl and carried it back to the kitchen, barely noticing the dark sulfur spot on the floor from Raivis' match.

He mused over the idea of returning to the site of their first date. His body warmed with thoughts that they had actually made it through a year. Many - too many - things had happened, but if they were together now, then it was surely meant to be.

"The cafe sounds brilliant, love~" he called out, tongue familiarizing with the Latvian word. "Shall we then? I haven't had coffee in over... 11 hours, you know!"

As he set down the salad bowl, his eyes drew to his hand. An odd feeling struck him as he came to find that... something appeared to be missing. Ignoring that feeling he could not describe, Peter returned to the living room.

Still no Raivis.

"Raivis? Where are you, love?"

[man_nav_naudas]

If it could go wrong, it would go wrong and Raivis accepted that with resignation in the split second the words 'I'm right-' were tragically cut short from the finishing 'here' by an avalanche of hardcover novels tumbling onto his unprotected feet.

The resulting string of blasphemes both in his native tongue and in English would have impressed even the surliest of drunkards tottering about in the dark recesses of the Charleston square's alleys.

The only one to hear it now, however, was the boy that dashed into his room to find its owner very much on the losing end of a surprise attack.

Hot Boss Wicked Nights: 1 Raivis: 0

PFFT. It took exactly a month. 8D

[longlivesealand]

Peter followed Raivis' voice to the Latvian's bedroom. He stood at the doorway, alert and curious of why Raivis looked about to have his heart burst into a waterfall of embarrassment.

"Raivis? What's the matter?"

Without invitation, Peter wandered further into the room that he rarely trespassed. Raivis always had some excuses to keep him out; the light didn't work, there were dirty clothes, the bed was unmade, there was a spider in the corner, and miscellaneous excuses that Peter had gritted his teeth and bought with a smile.

As his brain registered the hardcover images, Peter knew exactly why Raivis hadn't wanted him in the room. Unfortunately, as his eyes stared at The Sheikh's Rebellious Wife, it was much too late to back out now.

"Do you... need help picking the books up...?"

Slow but steady wins the race~

[man_nav_naudas]

"N-n-no, no, nononono, no." Already stumbling to his feet, Raivis frantically gathered up the nearest trades he could snag into his violently trembling arms. His face burned scarlet, glowing all down the column of his neck beneath the collar of his shirt that abruptly felt unbearably coarse. "I-I'll just t-take care of these, y-you just wait in the living room, Ja? Ha...haha..."

They both glanced in unison to the book that had fallen open on its descent to a particularly vibrant image of two blonde men leg and lip locked with an intensity and fervor it seemed to leap off the page.

The Boy's love novel Mei had lent him... Oh. God.

Raivis delicately toed at the wrapped gift at his feet, not-so-subtly trying to nudge it behind him before Peter could catch it. "Erm..."

[longlivesealand]

Peter didn't know what to do with himself. Any movement from him felt abruptly rude, as if he was intruding on some sacred ritual that his laymen skin did not deserve to witness. He only nodded with the most minimal of muscles and kept his eyes to himself.

That was until one of the graphic novels descended and showed him an image he didn't care to see. Surely, he would close his eyes and pretend it was not real. But curiosity was a cat Peter Kirkland could not tame. Upon registering the image, Peter's interest perked. Not for the content of the page, but for the character.

"Hey, I think he's from that one show with all the mechas!" Without fully knowing it, he was already bending down to pick up the book from the floor. On second inspection, it was in fact the character he was thinking of. "He is the main character, you know! He pilots a really really really ace mecha!"

[man_nav_naudas]

A fact Raivis was all too uncomfortably familiar with, actually. He was fully aware of which pilots corresponded to which numbers, which episodes their units received upgrades, even the metaphorical representational meaning behind each warrior's visual attributes.

More accurate still, he was worryingly well acquainted with the fanbases' preference of whom piloted whom's 'mecha'.

In a flash of reflexive maneuvering he hadn't known he possessed, Raivis flung himself at Peter in an effort to extract the book from questing eyes. If the questionable hard core content on the floor hadn't burned a scar into his lover's mind, the next page of the Quatro Circle's Endless Waltz would.

"Then we should watch it together, right? A-after dinner. I'm fairly certain that restaurant- or was it the cafe?- I'm fairly certain it's not open too late on...today. Tonight. You said you wanted coffee! L-let's get that-" Raivis gripped the pages firmly, giving a few persistent tugs. "First."

[longlivesealand]

Peter was unwittingly flipping through Raivis' graphic novel, searching for any face that he would recognize. For a person like Peter Kirkland, his brain had a setting to automatically block out any unpleasant images. In other words, Peter only saw what Peter wanted to see. It didn't register in his ocular nerves that the mecha pilot was bent over on his knees while another pilot had his fingers to the boy's back end. The speech bubbles filled with erotic moans and whispers for More, more were nothing but white blurs to him. Yes, Peter was good at denying the existence of things he didn't like. See Arthur Kirkland for example.

"Hey, ah! This one, Raivis, he's my favorite, you know! I... I don't remember his name at the moment, but he was like the leader of the organization and then he sacrificed himself... sort of... Anyhow, he wasn't really much of a pilot, but he did pilot this one me----"

And then, Peter was suddenly staring at his bare hands after Raivis brutally yanked the graphic novel away from him. Peter's lips immediately turned into a pout, too innocent for the mature atmosphere in the room. Nonetheless, he tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking his feet back and forth.

"All right... The cafe closes in half an hour, so we should hurry. And... can't we bring the books there? I want to read it..."

[man_nav_naudas]

Life was a Russian roulette. A long wait for that one fatal click of the trigger, a series of panicked heartbeats for every empty sound that wasn't. Raivis heaved an exasperated sigh, already lost to That Look despite his better judgement screaming 'For God's sake, no', tucking the doujinshi under his arm so that he could plant both hands on Peter's chest to playfully push him out. Bringing the incriminating material with them on their anniversary because he couldn't refuse Peter's pouting was yet one more false alarm. The gun hadn't gone off yet, but it would.

He had no knowing where or when, but when it happened-

Raivis shuffled backward into his room with a nervous smile on his face and a promise to 'be right back'. With one last, pleading glance about his room, he gave the lost gift up to the ether and snatched up the one still within sight on his floor. He grabbed the first available jacket within arm's reach and stuffed it in.

Another sigh, a hard swallow, then he rejoined his lover in the kitchen, keys already in hand. "Ready?"

[longlivesealand]

"Ready~!" was the cheerful response Raivis received. The front door was held open by the Sealander gentleman, who bowed playfully like a doorman to usher the latter the Latvian out.

Linking arms like children crossing a road, the two lovers descended the elevator and strolled through Liberty's vibrant streets. All the while, Peter blabbered on and on about the most trivial details of his day; from the hearty lady who ruffled his hair for some reason to the small puppy he saw standing outside a pizzeria, no details was spared. In his ignorance, he hadn't caught onto the nervous twitches of Raivis or his constant need to check beneath his jacket, as if there was something precious tucked within the denim that warranted more attention than Peter's story of an expired donut.

Upon arriving at the cafe, the lovers would be dejected to find that the place had closed early tonight, as they always did on Tuesdays. Peter once again rolled back and forth on his heels, as if some burst of magic would happen.

"What should we do now...? There is always that Indian cuisine down that way, you know."

[man_nav_naudas]

All the gallantry, the blithe pomp and circumstance for such a special evening made Raivis laugh all the more at the tales of the mundane and the strange. There came a pang of disappointment as they stood before the darkened windows, doujinshi tucked against his chest; a troubling cargo but a trifle comparative to the cheer overriding his anxiety. It was a peaceful, quiet evening even out in the heart of Centralia and there they were, side by side, trying their damnedest to celebrate that fact.

Out on the hunt for food because Peter had tried to cook him dinner.

Cheeks suffused with color, he ducked his head at the suggestion, started leading them down the sidewalk as he took his lover's hand in his and slid both into a pocket.

"There's still time to make it ourselves," He murmured. "If we go to the store instead, we can pick up some ingredients and-" The curve of Raivis's mouth was a sweet, shy smile. "Cook them together."

[longlivesealand]

Peter followed the lead down the street, not knowing where the road or his husband wanted to take him. He hummed cheerily as the lampposts lit their way.

"Eh? But the kitchen..." His words fell silent at Raivis' smile. Happily, without protest, he squeezed their intertwined hands and swung them to the beat of his tune. "Shopping~! Shopping! Ah! Curry would be nice tonight~! Do you know how to make curry? I think if we only need to buy the powder... or something, you know?"

Steps in steps, they walked toward the grocery store down the street. Even though they were only walking, he was content of the evening's plan.