Chapter Text
The sun beat down on Vincent as he stood in front of the grill in their backyard where he was cooking out for the holiday. It was a hot one, half of the eastern coast was under heat warnings in what would later be a record-breaking heat wave. Vincent had shed most of his clothing, save for his shorts and his “Kiss the Cook (Cock)” apron. He’d have shed his shorts too, but he didn’t feel like catching a public indecency charge. Imagine the headlines!
It was rare that Vincent cooked at all for the two of them. Alastor had only relented because it was too hot to cook inside. And grilling was Vincent’s job.
Vincent couldn’t help but look over to admire his husband, Alastor, who was sitting under the umbrella of their outdoor table. He was reading his book, his beautiful dark skin glistening under the sunshine.
Alastor’s eyes looked up to meet Vincent, and Vincent blushed and turned away. Even if they’d been together for years, he still felt the butterflies and the embarrassment of being caught.
Alastor shut his book and placed it on his lap. He adjusted how he sat in the chair so he could turn to face Vincent better.
“Admiring me, hmm?” Alastor asked, his voice thick and warm from the whiskey in his sweet tea.
Vincent rubbed the back of his head, caught in the act again. And not for the first time that day either. “Ah-haha. I mean… guilty.”
Alastor took a slow sip of his drink. Another quiet moment passed, no need for so much conversation when they could just enjoy each other’s company.
Alastor’s eyes were still on Vincent, and Vincent was very aware of this. He decided to be bold, which he would either be rewarded or scolded for. “You could- you could always follow the instructions on the apron. Y’know. If you wanted.”
Alastor let out a low chuckle. “Oh, mon cher. Perhaps later, after our dinner that you’ve worked so hard on. For now, I’ll just enjoy the show, hmm?”
- - - - - - -
Later, after their dinner had settled, and they grew tired of being outside for so long, the two men settled inside for the night. Vincent stood in the kitchen, staring for far too long at Alastor. At his husband. He did that a lot these days, admiring him when he wasn’t looking. Ah, domestic bliss.
Vincent turned to put away the clean dishes. Alastor closed the gap between them, appearing behind Vincent. He began to pull at Vincent’s shorts from behind.
“What- what you doin’ there, Al?” Vincent’s voice cracked. Smooth, Vincent. Real smooth.
“Why, I’m making good on my promise. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?” Alastor’s breath was heavy on the bare skin of Vincent’s back, just between his shoulder blades. It was intoxicating. Alastor was intoxicating.
Vincent didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. He just began untying the apron from behind his back.
“No, mon mari.” Alastor put one hand on Vincent’s shoulder and physically turned the man around so he could see his face when he gave his command. “The apron stays on.”