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Okay. I'll - I just wanna grab a few things, and Rooty and I'll be on our way. Don't make any plans for tonight that don't involve me and only me.

[Because he has plans that he'll now start putting into action; involves getting home first after a quick shop hop and a drag of a pomeranian behind him. He doesn't hang up though, not yet, working his way down the hill with Rooty at his heels. She hops onto the board as he gets back into the water, making a disgusted noise at the cold shock of it again.]

Prepare for that how you will. I'll be home in twenty.

Oh, shit.

[ That sounds-- exciting? There's another flutter in his chest and, another laugh that creeps out of him. He loves when Peter takes charge and he feels like that's what's happening now, and the excitement of whatever surprise might be coming is already sort of overwhelming. Bouncing on his toes, Odin nods a few times before remembering Peter can't see him. ]

Um, okay. I'll - okay. Okay. See you? See you. I love you. Again. B... bye.

[ He hangs up, sparing half a minute to look down at his phone and just melt in the afterglow of the call. It's hard not to feel... shaken, still, by everything, but the foundations of their relationship are strong enough that he's not seriously concerned after hearing Peter's voice. He spends the next twenty minutes focused entirely on clothes, picking out what he wants to wear and going with a remix of a certain classic, and given that they lack wine, he pours two champagne glasses of faygo and sets them on the table by the TV.

He drops into the couch and waits, nervously bouncing his foot. Fucking aced it. ]

[Peter gets a quick 'bye' out before the call's over and he's back on track, putting his mind to better use than dwelling on a life that's not his own - nevermind something he can change. He wades back through the water, heading to shops a few blocks over that are still operating; grabbing a few things and hoisting them home. He takes a little longer than he expected, waterlogged and dripping when he makes it through the front door but Rootbeer, dry as a bone, runs in first.

He, on the otherhand, whisks by in a breeze and the faintest few drops of water on the floor as he bounds for the bathroom after dropping things off. A precooked chicken dinner, some candles that are lit with another swoosh of passing silver, and a few other smaller things that sit in a paper bag by the couch. His voice carries out from the bathroom, head peeking out to look at Odin from across the apartment.]

Literally give me three minutes and I'll be right there, okay? Love the vintage, by the way. Terrific choice.

[His champagne glass is empty. Refill?]

[ Peter busts through the door and all of Odin's attempts to look chill and relaxed on the couch are immediately taken from him. He stands up, excited to welcome him home and immediately gets distracted by the pitter patter of tiny paws as Rooty bounds over to say hello first. He picks her up and kisses her nose, watching Peter blur around the room and set up their date. Ah, fuck. Odin's heart feels so full it's starting to hurt. ]

Three minutes. That'd be super generous of me? You can move, like, faster than light. You could finish anything you needed to do in less than three min-- wait, does bathroom stuff speed up too? Why have I never asked you that?

[ You know what? Not tone appropriate. Odin waves away the question and sets Rooty back down so she can go and have a nice drink, filling up Peter's glass again to the sound of theiR rEAL dUAgHtER lapping at her bowl. He drops back onto the cushion and crosses his legs, playing with the vinyl fabric of his pants as it squeaks around his knees. Maybe they should be sitting at a table, or something, but peeking into the bag, Odin remembers that they never really do that. ]

[Peter's laugh echoes through the bathroom as the only answer to that burning question, door clicking closed as the squeal of the shower turns on. Three minutes is more than enough, but when you're trying to scrub street filth off yourself, you gotta wait for the flow of the water a little. That said, he's done quickly and only trips over his shed clothing a little (clattering of shampoo bottles falling like grenades into the tub,) in the dark.

He doesn't emerge from the bathroom so much as he just suddenly reclines against the back of the sofa behind Odin, bent forward to rest his forearms along the edge and raise his brows in expectant wonder of him turning around to notice. Silver hair slicked back and still wet from that speed shower, he's put on some clothes that are also somewhat familiar.]

Hey. Hope you're hungry? I should've asked. I just... I wanted to spend time with you? I know that's all I ever do, but. Today was a lot of brain scrambling and you make me feel calm. You slow me back down to sane speeds. I need that in my life. Need you.

[ In the brief window before Odin notices Peter behind him, he thinks he's alone. It's not like he ever has his guard up around Peter - he's never had his guard up around Peter - but he's at his most vulnerable, at his most Owain, feeling everything he wants to feel, secure that he's not being seen.

He looks lovesick as all hell.

He's smiling, warm and distant, looking towards the bathroom where he still thinks Peter's drying off. That mistiness in his eyes is back, that lump in his throat that burns too hot for him to swallow properly, and he's just so open. The person he loves more than life itself is just - there? Behind that door, wanting to make an amazing night for him. Peter just learned something that would shake a lesser man to his core and he just - wants to spend time with him. With Odin. Ah, he can't handle this.

Peter says hey and that's when Odin notices, jumping out of his skin with his hand on his heart. It's kind of funny, the way the softness in him turns to something so much more airy and then cycles back into a sentimental onslaught of emotion when he realizes what Peter is wearing. His mouth goes dry and he stumbles over whatever it was he was going to say, and - as if he's not sure he can believe this is real - his hands find Peter's jacket, tugging lightly on his sleeve, working their way up to his tie.

He doesn't pull on it like he did with Peter's arm, he just - holds on. Plays with the end with his fingertips. Makes eye contact. ]

Are you serious? You're wearing this? Ugh, you like me so much, you big nerd. [ He pulls Peter's tie up to his face, trying uselessly to hide the reddening of his cheeks behind the edge of it. ] But - I mean - it's - it's okay. It's my pleasure, honestly. You do the same for me? You're the cornerstone of my life, I wouldn't... I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you. I don't have to be able to run faster than the eye can follow to need someone who reminds me how good it feels to just walk.

Hell yeah I like you so much. I don't know where I'd be either and - ah, shit, Odin. I swear to God, if you so much as pull that, we're not having dinner. You'll give me a boner and by the time we're done fucking, it's all going to get cold. So do- don't.

[He doesn't sound convincing, but he does studiously follow the way Odin's holding on to his tie and tethering him close. One lift of his head and there'd be tension on it, a thought that's already making his gut clench up. Too many memories of the island and being lead around by a tie, the only other tie he's worn, makes for a horny Peter Maximoff.

But he grins, wide and bright, reaching up with one hand to skim his fingertips over Odin's knuckles and caress the hand holding said tie with a tender touch. He follows it up his wrist and leans a bit further over the backing of the couch, dipping to kiss his boyfriend on the lips. Slow, lingering and dripping water down the bridge of his nose from unruly silver hair that's begun to stick up.]

May I join you, sir. Dining for two?

[ Fuck, he's laughing again. Peter's so good at making him laugh. He's tempted, but he doesn't pull Peter's tie, because he really wants that dinner - but as Peter dips him down for a kiss, he keeps his fingers curled tight around the fabric, keeping him tethered close so the kiss might last a while longer. He shuts his eyes and feels the tension leave his body the second Peter's lips meet his, and Odin sighs softly through his nose, the taste of clean water and soft skin and orange faygo mixing together. They separate, and Odin's feeling a little too starry to say too much. ]

'Kay.

[ He's basically laying down against the couch's back by now, keeping Peter bent down over him. They're - dining for two, he needs to remember that, but he pulls the end of Peter's tie taut, idly sinking his teeth into the fabric. He holds eye contact, leaving just enough of an indentation, and when he lets go, his eyes rake back over Peter's neck. Remembering that first week.

He lets go, in the end. He moves to sit up on his knees and turns around, resting his hands on the back of the couch and darting up to take another quick kiss from Peter's nose, then drums another hard rhythm against the upholstery and leans back. ]

You know you're gonna get grease stains all over that, right? I mean, I don't care, 'cause it could be in tatters and I'd still think you looked beautiful. I'm just saying. Gonna be marring the woven vestments of our love with the broth within which dead chicken bathed.

Edited 2018-08-16 06:21 (UTC)

I am capable of eating without getting grease all over me.

[He defends himself with a look about being so falsely accused, smiling when Odin finally lets go of his tie. He's already a little aroused, making him a little more pink in the face, but he's powering through it. He looks down at the suit he's in, uncomfortable as it happens to be, and just tugs the lapel to arrange it. Smooths down the front of his shirt.

It's stupidly overdressed but it's something he knows Odin would appreciate. And somehow it fits in contrast to what Odin's wearing, the two of them looking way too good for two idiots in an apartment in the middle of a flooded city. But the candles are lit and it feels - romantic, so he combs his hand through Odin's hair and leans to kiss him again. Smack dab on the forehead.]

Plus there's this little known art of stripping? I can always get naked. So let's eat? And... chill. It's still cold and disgusting as fuck outside.

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