As Dante threw his head back to laugh, Cadoc decided that he could live forever in this moment. He wanted to memorize every bit of it, how it felt to lean over and steal a kiss, to tangle a hand in Dante’s curls and cup his face. He didn't want to lose this.

And so Cadoc pretended that Dante wasn't human, and that Cadoc wasn't cursed to live forever. He pretended that nothing existed but this moment, with Dante shoving him playfully, back where he was supposed to be on the balcony, leaning on the railing. Dante was telling him to lift the wine glass a bit higher, and so Cadoc did, right up to his lips to drain it. This wasn't the first time he’d done this, just to get a rise out of Dante, and it worked, just like the last ten. Dante came from behind his easel, looking like he might smack Cadoc with the paintbrush in his hand, but when he reached Cadoc, he merely tugged Cadoc down for another kiss.

And it was so easy, with Dante, to kiss, to tease, to poke his nose just to hear his indignant squawk, to run his hands down Dante’s soft sides to hear his laughter-choked protests. It was like Cadoc was really as human as Dante, like there was no pressure from hell, no weight of responsibility, nothing but this gentle, devious man who knew exactly how to make Cadoc laugh. He knew how to tease Cadoc out of a dark mood, and he knew when to let Cadoc stew until he was ready to be drawn back to laughter.

Stars, Cadoc loved him. It was a rare man that had Cadoc this breathless, chest tight, not from anxiety but from sheer affection. He might complain about having to stand there while Dante painted and painted, but he loved it, really. He loved the attention to detail that Dante put into his art, and the passion with which he did everything in life.

Dante pulled back, and refilled the glass. “Don't drink that one,” he was saying, and Cadoc found that amusing enough that he reeled Dante back in to bury his face in Dante’s neck. “Lord, Cadoc. You are such a sappy drunk.”

“I love you,” Cadoc promised as Dante pulled back.

“I know, love. Why else would you stick around?” Dante brushed his thumb over Cadoc’s cheek, and then laughed. “I got paint on you.”

“Not the first time,” Cadoc retorted, before pressing their foreheads together. “Are you almost done yet?”

Guilt flickered across Dante’s face, only to be chased away by unabashed glee. “I've been done for ten minutes. I just wanted to see how long I could get you to stand there for me.”

“You,” Cadoc said with as much dignity as he could muster, “are a cruel, cruel man.”

“I'm aware.” Dante kissed Cadoc’s nose. “But you did wonderfully, really, and I think that was one of my best paintings yet.”

Cadoc let Dante relieve him of the wineglass. “Of course it is. Impossible for it to be anything but perfect with your subject matter.”

Dante wrapped an arm around Cadoc’s middle. “You're right. That was really good wine, wasn't it?”

“Dante!”

Dante settled Cadoc on the couch, and let himself be tugged down as well, laughing. “I'm teasing, love. You are the most vain creature I have ever met.”

Cadoc shifted how he was holding Dante to press his nose to Dante’s temple. “With good reason.”

“Mmmm yes, with good reason,” Dante consented, before moving to get up.

“Noooooo,” Cadoc protested, tugging at him.

“Love, I'm covered in paint. I'll come back, I promise.” Dante smiled fondly, smearing another bit of paint on Cadoc’s cheek before wandering off.

Cadoc lasted about half a second before he realized if he stayed seated, he’d end up falling asleep on the couch. In an effort to stay awake he heaved himself to his feet and padded back to Dante’s work, peering at it curiously. What he saw made his mouth curve up. The painting was little more than patches of muted color, and then a solid bit of white right in the middle, with a splash of turquoise here to catch Cadoc’s eye, and a spot of deep red, and brilliant gold coming from the corner. It was vague, and yet Cadoc knew exactly what Dante was trying to convey. There was wonder and hope and love in every stroke of this painting.

Warm arms slid around him, and Cadoc turned slightly. “And you call me a sap,” he accused, trying to get ahold of Dante. Stars, but his heart felt full, and he wanted Dante to know. He needed to know, for however long they had, just how far gone Cadoc was for Dante. “You need to paint us together one of these days,” he said after he finally managed to pull Dante in his arms.

“Oh?” Dante pulled him patiently back inside, letting Cadoc nuzzle his neck as he got them settled on the couch again. “Why's that?”

“I want... I want to keep it. To have something of you. Of us. Dante, I-”

Dante pressed a finger to Cadoc’s lips. “No,” he said gently. “I'll do it. But don't go down that road tonight.” When Cadoc only stared down at him, Dante sighed, and brushed his fingers through Cadoc’s hair. “You are the most dramatic man I have ever had the pleasure of dating, and if you don't wipe that mournful look off your face, I’ll have to resort to tickling you.”

“You wouldn't,” Cadoc said, rearing back.

Dante wiggled his fingers threateningly. “I will too.”

“You're horrible,” Cadoc muttered, but settled down so Dante could go back to running his fingers through Cadoc’s hair again.

“Practical. And successful. And wonderful. And adorable. And talented. Its why you're dating me, isn't it?” Dante asked. His laugh was quiet, but Cadoc could feel it under his ear, and maybe it did make him a sap, but he had to wonder if anything had ever sounded so wonderful.

Wonderful or not, Cadoc couldn't resist qiuping sleepily, “And you have the gall to say I have an ego, Dante.”