#sol responds

“So how long do we plan on sitting here and reading that?”

Pinocchio sighed as he looked up from the book he had on hand. It was late in the evening, the clock above their door was ticking towards the next hour, and the toddler had been put to bed about an hour ago, after they had found her passed out next to Iskra.

Like many days when he had the time, the man had taken to settling down comfortably into bed and reading, Pinocchio taking the grand opportunity that is his lover being at home at the time to snag him and join in on the reading session. Until now the older had done nothing but fidget or lean on his shoulder as the woodcarver read for them both out loud with occasional outbursts.

They started five pages ago.

This was now comment number eleven.

“Until you can learn how to sit quietly and pay attention?” he asked, casting a glance up at Lampwick.

“I've never been more bored in my life, baby.” Lampwick groaned as he dropped his head against the headboard, Pinocchio rolling his eyes at that.

“Oh I'm sure you haven't.”

“Not even in school!”

“Yes because half the time you weren’t even there. And your education speaks for you in that regard,” Pinocchio pointed out, hearing the other scoff. “You’re setting a horrible example for that kid if you’re acting like this.” he continued as he turned his attention back to the book.

“You're so rude to me, you know that?”

No, Pinocchio will not be smiling because of how Lampwick draped himself over him. Nor at the pout that the other was giving him. He will not be giving him that satisfaction, even if it meant biting his lip to stop himself from doing so.

“Am I? I'm just being honest with you.” he stated, tapping the page as Lampwick wrapped his arms around Pinocchio's middle.

“I think that fairy needs to stop giving you such terrible ideas on what you need to do. She's tainting you, my blue-eyed doll,” Lampwick complained as he swayed the two of them around.

“Don't be silly,” Pinocchio claimed, still not looking up, though his grin was unfortunately in place now.

“And yet here you are, trying to get me to read what even is this? Shakespeare? Some other bullshit poetry nonsen-”

“Please stop.” Pinocchio cut him off, a hand over the other’s mouth. Maybe he should have expected nothing else, but most unfortunately for him at this moment, he hadn’t expected his betrothed to lick his hand. As though burned he pulled it back with a grimace. “Gods, you're disgusting! What are you, five?” Pinocchio exclaimed, as he wiped his hand into the covers.

Lampwick, however, wasn't deterred, as he grinned. “Yeah. Five years older than you.”

The snicker had Pinocchio looking up, giving the man a deadpan stare. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh. I'm sure you do.” Lampwick smirked.

“I hate you so much." Pinocchio muttered, as his betrothed snaked his arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Oh I feel your hate so much right now, Pinky. Very intensely in my chest actually. So much that I think I can hear a second heart racing.” Lampwick mused quietly into his ear, Pinocchio relenting with a scoff.

“Oh haha, very funny.”

The man paused, looking at the discarded book next to him and the still burning oil lamp. He smirked as he reached along the covers.

“Finally giving up on the read?”

He heard Lampwick ask, as he struggled to grab the book again. Successful in his endeavour, he snuggled back against the taller man, opening up the book once more with a sigh.