13:36Somewhere in Sweet Café
Ekissa's scowl has smoothed out a bit to look a minimum professional with his client—it didn't fully fade, but at least now, no one thinks he's this close to punching the person babbling about how perfectly Ekissa succeeded in bringing out the vibe they were exactly trying to go with. Ekissa's arms aren't crossed over his chest like they usually would, serving more often than not as a physical shield that stops people from trying anything funny with him. Instead, they're resting on the table, awkwardly so, as his hands envelop his mug of black coffee to have something to do with them.
The client is still talking while lifting the large, painted canvas as they admire the work with genuine awe. Blinking out of it, and perhaps noticing the grumpy man's face that screams 'are we done here?', they set down the canvas against the wall on the table with care.
But of course, this client isn't deterred and looks like someone who loves art something fierce. So instead of easing on the praises, they keep going under Ekissa's mounting annoyance.
Ekissa never liked it. The praises were good and nice and all that, but too many of these can render him intolerant and honestly fed up. At least this one doesn't try to make his heart 'melt' with praises just to have his number. He might be confident and sometimes almost arrogant in that smug, playful way, but this shit has never been something he gloats about. Honestly, the interest some people have for him is just so annoying now that he has you.
He couldn't stomach people except for a few dates here and there, but now that you're the center of his attention, he's even more repulsed by people that aren't you. Well, if you don't count people he considers as his family and friends.
He's not annoyed just because of the praises or the yapping he's gaining from his client, though. There's another reason.
Tilting his body on the side just a fraction, his gaze falls on you. You're still with the single red rose in your hand and the several boxes of chocolate resting on the table he bought for you, still sitting at the table you two chose earlier before he reluctantly had to leave your side and sit at this table instead.
He told you you didn't have to come with him, that he would join you later at your place, but you've always been such a stubborn mule. So here you are, waiting for him to be done, and here he is, this close to snapping at the client to just take the goddamn painting and fuck off.
The only thing keeping him sane is the few eye contacts between you two. It's also the way you wiggle your eyebrows just to bring a smile to his lips while he doesn't bother hiding his snorts and good-natured eye rolls.
Ekissa won't show it publicly, but he can feel his heart filling with warmth each time he glances your way just because he wants to look at you. Just because he has this urge to want you close, to see each shift of your expression, to just be by your side and listen to your voice.
He finally decides to end it before he loses his mind for good, "You good with it? I've got stuff to do, and you paid me already."
"Ah, uh," the client blinks, stopping whatever they were saying about the abstract art. "Yes, I thin—"
"Good," Ekissa mutters gruffly, not waiting for an answer to get up and grab his lukewarm coffee.
Ekissa doesn't even spare the client a glance as he makes his way toward your table, his long strides eating up the distance between you as if needing as much distance as he can and as fast as he can get between him and the client still looking at his back with their mouth still open.
The relief that washes over Ekissa's features is subtle but here nonetheless as he suppresses the distance between you two, his black eyes softening when they land on you. Once at your table, instead of taking the seat across from you like before, he slides into the booth right next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against yours.
He lets out a heavy exhale. "Fucking finally," he sets his mug down with more force than necessary, his hand immediately finding your thigh, settling there, and squeezing gently to ground him.
"You looked like you were about to throw your coffee at them," you tease, taking a sip of your warm drink while your hand covers his.
"I was considering it," Ekissa admits, his lips quirking into something that's almost a smile. His thumb traces idle circles, an absentminded gesture that calls from habit rather than real stress where he'd need the distraction. "They kept going on and on about the 'emotional depth' and 'raw vulnerability' I brought into the painting." He grumbles. "Like, yeah, I painted the damn thing. I know what it is."
You can't help but laugh at his grumpy tone, slightly spreading your fingers to interlace them with his. "At least they paid well," you offer reasonably, trying to find the silver lining. "They could be a nice regular."
"They could've paid me double, and I still would've wanted to deck them for keeping me away from you." He snorts dismissively. He turns his head slightly, black eyes meeting yours. "It's Valentine's Day, and I'm stuck listening to some art nerd instead of spending it with you."
"We're together now," you remind him gently, squeezing his hand.
Ekissa grunts in acknowledgement, though his attention drifts to the red rose now sitting on the table next to your other hand, then to the chocolates on the table, and something warm flickers across his expression—something soft and unguarded that he only ever shows you.
"You're right," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "We are. You tested the chocolate?"
"I was waiting for you."
"Mh," Ekissa hums, and he can't quite conceal the pleased glint in his obsidian orbs.
The café buzzes with quiet conversation around you, the scent of coffee and pastries hanging in the air, but in this moment, it feels like it's just the two of you. The bubble around you keeps building until all Ekissa can hear is the sound of your voice—the only pleasant sound he wouldn't mind listening to for the rest of his life, however cheesy that might sound.
He makes no move to remove his hand from your thigh, his fingers laced with yours, because while PDA isn't his thing at all, this is the only thing he doesn't mind showing to people that might be able to witness. This is the only thing that doesn't make him uncomfortable—not because he feels embarrassed but because he doesn't like exposing this side of him to random assholes.
He wants this side to be reserved only for his partner; he wants this to stay private. He's always been selfish about it. But at least he owns it, and he's not afraid to call it what it is or to reassure you when you need it, even in front of people.
For once, the perpetual scowl on his face has completely melted away as he shifts slightly to get more comfy. His gaze flickers between your face and the rose, something almost uncertain crossing his features—an expression that doesn't sit naturally on someone usually so confident.
"You enjoying this?" he asks gruffly, jerking his chin toward the chocolates and rose. "Valentine's Day, I mean. Even with my work getting in the way?" There's concern showing, though it's not like he wants to hide it from you anyway. "I promised you it wouldn't take long, but it ended up with you waiting an hour."
"Of course I am," you assure him. "I'm with you, aren't I?"
His expression softens at that, the corners of his mouth curling up in a satisfied smile as he brings your intertwined hands up, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles—a rare public display he allows just this time. He doesn't do it because he feels forced to 'make it up' to you, though. He does it because you're so... He would've been annoyed if he were in your shoes, having to wait for an hour while you're working a few tables away.
You didn't. But then again, Ekissa wouldn't have minded if you were. You can be rather hot when you're angry.
"Good," he murmurs against your skin. "Because you're stuck with me for the rest of the day. No more clients. Just us."
Surrounded by the quiet hum of the café with his hand warm in yours, you can't agree more. Because that's all either of you need.
Each other.