A wee dram for the road

With a wink he stepped aside, a hook of his finger catching her waistband with a little tug. 

She chuckled at the little tease, following with uncharacteristic obedience.

“I’m ne’er gonnae say no te scran fer the clamshell. I’ll need plenty o’ energy after awl.” A wink, a smirk, and they were on their way, up the royal mile, winding his way over cobbles as he had thousands of times before in various states. Tonight was a good night, he had a lovely lady by his side and his belly was soon to be filled.

“Uh—Romano, obviously,” Cici has both a hand on his hip now whilst the other is weakly gesturing in front of him. Was he not clear enough?

“I like your enthusiasm! Your muscles seem good enough to help me take Romano in a fight. Two against one is good. I might be able to convince someone else to help us. Should I bring my rapier?” A gleam of brilliant genius and inspiration suddenly lights his entire face. “We should have a duel! That’ll teach that inconsiderate asshole a lesson. And uh, welcome you into the family or… yeah.”

Wait.. what?

Brows furrow, trying to work out this new turn of events. It’s not difficult to confuse Hugh and he’s not really sure why he would be fighting Romano. In fact his whole being has been offered in the man’s protection. Wait! That had to be it!

Stepping forwards he takes Cici’s hand, his expression earnest and filled with love for Romano.

“I promise ne’er te raise a hand te yer brathair in violence. I mean I mite clobber him wit my thistle but ne’er my fist. I promise ye I’ll treasure him and keep him safe.”

Che? Eh? Scusa?

Nothing short of abject bewilderment painted over Cici’s face. The little glint of determination quickly dimmed into confusion; one of his eyebrows quirked up, and the corner of his lip curled as his mouth dropped open slightly.

Looking between Hugh’s expression and the hands gripping his, an audible strangled noise pushed itself out of the Italian’s mouth before he shook his hands free.

“What? No—what the fuck? I don’t want to hear you profess your love to him in front of me… oh my god, that’s so gross. No—no, no, I am serious about asking for you help to fight him. Marriage is about teaming up with your future brother-in-law to avenge him. Also, can you two like, legally get hitched in Scotland? Italy is a no-go.”

“...”

Hugh was definitely missing something here, something -important-. What it was.. was beyond his ken. Emerald eyes slowly looked the Italian up and down, not even hiding the fact he was weighing him up.

“I mean.. if ye n’ he are fitin’ that’s probably some family shite I shouldnae git involved wit..”

After all he wouldn’t appreciate Romano trying to step in between him and Arthur.. or Finn.. or Dylan.. or any of the other cunts in his family bush. That said he wasn’t sure he’d not throw a fist or three if he saw -anyone- punching Romano.

Hips cocked against the table, all self assured charm as he posted up and gathered her into his frame. Arms lazily curled around her hips, inviting her to stay but lacking insistence. 

“I mean.. we can go back te mine.. if yer awl finished. Or te yers if it’s more te yer taste.” 

She seemed not to have any inclination to leave the circle of his arms, nor for her mouth to travel too terribly far away from his face, and thus if he moved it seemed she was quite sure to follow.

With a wink he stepped aside, a hook of his finger catching her waistband with a little tug. 

There was a mischevious twinkle in emerald eyes as he pulled her close, paying no mind to other patrons in the pub, after all it was a brave person who took issue with him. Enhaling her scent, a warm kiss pressed to her brow, welcoming her embrace and the delightful things it brought.

She's nuzzling into his neck almost sweetly, or it would be if her lips weren't nipping at his skin here and there, promising sweetness if there was time for such.

"Well I'll take what I can get, Hugh, I'll tell you that. If that's all you're up for it's fine, but if you'd like to get out of here..."

Hips cocked against the table, all self assured charm as he posted up and gathered her into his frame. Arms lazily curled around her hips, inviting her to stay but lacking insistence. 

“I mean.. we can go back te mine.. if yer awl finished. Or te yers if it’s more te yer taste.” 

-The contact is instant and urgent, pressing lips to hers. Lips part, offering more, offering her whatever she wanted to take from him. Thick fingers slide into her hair, leather warm as it scrapes gently over her skull, able to encompass her with one hand.-

She was a little surprised that her childish demand had gotten any response at all, but Hugh was welcomed indeed as she placed her arms around him, leaning into his muscular frame, reveling in his scent and indeed taste as she took him up on the tacit invitation to deepen the kiss.

There was a mischevious twinkle in emerald eyes as he pulled her close, paying no mind to other patrons in the pub, after all it was a brave person who took issue with him. Enhaling her scent, a warm kiss pressed to her brow, welcoming her embrace and the delightful things it brought.

“Uh—Romano, obviously,” Cici has both a hand on his hip now whilst the other is weakly gesturing in front of him. Was he not clear enough?

“I like your enthusiasm! Your muscles seem good enough to help me take Romano in a fight. Two against one is good. I might be able to convince someone else to help us. Should I bring my rapier?” A gleam of brilliant genius and inspiration suddenly lights his entire face. “We should have a duel! That’ll teach that inconsiderate asshole a lesson. And uh, welcome you into the family or… yeah.”

Wait.. what?

Brows furrow, trying to work out this new turn of events. It’s not difficult to confuse Hugh and he’s not really sure why he would be fighting Romano. In fact his whole being has been offered in the man’s protection. Wait! That had to be it!

Stepping forwards he takes Cici’s hand, his expression earnest and filled with love for Romano.

“I promise ne’er te raise a hand te yer brathair in violence. I mean I mite clobber him wit my thistle but ne’er my fist. I promise ye I’ll treasure him and keep him safe.”

thistlewhiskey​:

Look at this fucking fancy bread. The Scotsman had lanced it with a fork and was trying to toast it over an open flame. The toaster would normal habour any toast situation but he’d picked up something baguette adjacent and was trying to brown it in the best way he knew how. Despite the obvious potential danger of setting his kitchen alight he was still humming to himself contentedly.

Fortunately he heard Jules approaching and turned the gas off, putting the half toasted tiger bread on a plate before buttering the heck out of it.

“Mornin’ beautiful.”

And he looked indeed, hugging Hugh from the back as he was suddenly quite awake. He could get used to waking up like this… “Well, would you believe that, this is the fanciest bread I’ve seen in about a decade.” He chuckled lightly. “Morning, Prince ~” He took a short look around the kitchen, smiling before he took a step back again. “All this effort for me, I’m flattered! Let me at least make the coffee, though, alright?”

“I’d rather ye kept hangin’ awn Princess.”

There’s a small smirk as he spoons salmon and scrambled egg onto the hot, buttered tiger bread. Being hugged from behind was one of his favourite things, though honestly any sort of physical affection was the best sort of affection.

“Ye mustnae ha’e seen much bread.. no bin te Germany recently?” A thick brow lofts before he sets down two large mugs for Jules to make coffee.