Cyrin had some funny habits that Arthur had slowly been learning over the last couple of months. Being a dancer, he was athletic, and to Arthur's particular enjoyment, he was flexible. It wasn't uncommon to find him doing everyday things in odd positions.
In fact, it was to this scene that Arthur walked in today. Cyrin, on the floor, in a full split, watching Netflix on his phone.
He had to laugh, just a little bit.
"Hey, anybody ever tell you you're kinda funny sometimes?" He walked past and gently mussed up Cyrin's hair, before plopping down next to him cross-legged. "Whatcha watching?"
Their comfort level had gone up, of course, and he found himself leaning against the taller man's shoulder, just a little bit, before he'd even thought about it.
Cyrin was so immersed in his show he hadn't noticed Arthur until the other man was laughing. He blinks, looking up, flashing a smile. He reaches forward, tapping the screen what felt like a million times in attempts to pause the show. He had, surprisingly, gotten hooked on it in the first episode. He shakes his head slightly, "Only you, really. I don't understand how you find this funny. It's simply comfortable. You can't tell me they you never get into any weird positions when doing things?"
He turns his phone off, leaning slightly into Arthur. "I was watching The Blacklist. It's surprisingly good. Normally I don't enjoy shows like this, but I enjoy this one."
Arthur continued chuckling. "Oh, I occasionally hang upside-down off my bed, but I've never just, you know, casually done a full splits for no particular reason. And I certainly don't think I'd find it 'comfortable'." He turned and kissed Cyrin's cheek. "But you do you, sweetheart."
He stood up and headed towards the kitchen. "Have you cooked dinner yet? And tell me about this show that has so conquered your attention."
It was a Friday, and Arthur was hoping to get Cyrin out in the woods tonight. They hadn't gone camping together yet, just because of a few factors. Cyrin's family had needed the support, he'd been trying to get Cyrin used to sleeping with him at all, and because… well, some part of Arthur knew if he got Cyrin out in the woods, things were gonna change significantly for them. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that, but. It was time to give it a shot.
(Me trying to scavenge my brain for the first season of Blacklist-)
Cyrin laughs softly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He shifts slightly, pulling his feet in front of him, and slowly getting up. “Well. . . Maybe that’s cause I’ve done the splits almost my whole life? Also it helps keep me stretched for when I do practice later.”
He leans against the counter, shaking his head, “No. I haven’t, I was thinking either take out or leftovers? I don’t wanna cook or clean the mess up cooking makes. I feel lazy today.”
He grins, “Oh. . . Wel, it’s about this guy, Reddington and this group in the FBI who do secrete missions or something. And Reddington is a wanted criminal who’s helping the agency take down these other criminals who the government had been looking for or had not even known they needed to find. These people are what Reddington calls the Blacklist.” He grabs a glass and fills it with some water, taking a long drink.
Cyrin nods. Pizza sounded good. Maybe. “Pizza sounds okay.” He looks down to the counter for a moment, thinking.
Cyrin listen to Arthurs suggestion, shifting on his feet. He wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of guy. He was practically in love with his climate control and toilets. So far he’d been able to get out of camping. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do thins Arthur liked. He just, wasn’t a fan of the idea of sleeping outside out of his bed. And most of the time, the reasons he couldn’t go were good ones. Like dance recitals or something. But this weekend, he was free. He had nothing to do and he didn’t want to be an asshole.
“Sure. Why not?” He smiles slightly. “It could be. . . Interesting. . . to try.”
Arthur smiled and pulled his phone out, navigating to the app. "Meat-lovers ok?"
Cyrin seemed nervous about the idea, but Arthur was pleased he said yes. "I'll try to make it fun, and it'll be easy. I'll take care of all the hard stuff. " He stood up, his smile widening. "Go pack a change of clothes or two, and make sure you're wearing shoes you wouldn't mind getting filthy."
(sorry its short! just had to get something down on the page facepalm)
(Rolls in sand It’s fine, better than nothing :D)
CYrin nods, laughing, “I have no choice in the matter.” He holds his hands up, clearly being somewhat playful.
“You always look ready to kill someone when you don’t get your meat.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly, “DOn’t want it to be me.”
He nods slightly, pushing away from the counter, “You make it sound Like I have more than one pair of shoes. And my dancing shoes don’t count. Because, they aren’t really. . . um. . . Practical footwear for anything other than dancing.”
He turns, walking backwards, “And what kind of clothes? Jeans and jacket or. . . Shorts and t-shirt?”
Arthur grinned and ordered the pizza, returning Cyrin's teasing tone. "No, you don't. Meatlovers it is." He chuckled at the description of his deadly intent. "Hey, at least you know better than to get in the way. It won't be you."
Arthur blinked, before shrugging. "So we'll pick up some boots on the way out of town. I got you." He watched Cyrin go, thinking briefly. "In this weather, I'd say jeans and the jacket, though if you wanna sleep in something more comfy, shorts and t-shirt would be fine too."
Cyrin grins, laughing, “Good. I’m not ready to die. I’m too young, and much left to do in life.” Tilts his head.
“OKay, boots it is. . . And jean and a jacket. I don’t know in what world you would think a t-shirt and shorts are comfortable to sleep in. It’s either all or nothing.” He shakes his ear, ducking away from the kitchen, wandering to his room.
He reaches into his closet, grabbing a few shirts ad a pair of jeans before tossing them onto his bed. He turns and bends down, reaching underneath his bed and pulling out a duffle bag. He frowns slightly and then tosses the stuff into his bag, not taking the time to fold it. He stuffs the clothes into the bag and then zips it up, setting it on the floor.
Arthur chuckled at him. "Good, cuz I'm not ready for you to do either. Got too much to do to you."
He grinned at his boyfriend as Cyrin left to pack. "I mean, whatever you think will be most comfortable. I'm down with nothing."
Arthur had his bags packed already. They stayed packed easily enough, as much as he was in the woods. "Any idea what kind of boots you'd like?" He called to Cyrin from the kitchen.
Cyrin felt his face heart at Arthur’s words and he ducks his head down, hiding his face in his sleeve as he tosses the clothes into his bag. He coughs softly, almost chocking at his next words, shaking his head, “Jesus-“ He laughs, running his hand down his face and taking deep breaths.
He shakes his head slightly, “So you’d rather I wear absolutely nothing to bed?” He asks, poking his head out of his room.
“Versus pants and a sweater?” He stares towards the kitchen at Arthur, his face slightly pink as he asks the question. He was unsure if he wanted to know the answer, but he asked the question so he supposed he was going to get an answer out of Arthur.
“Uh. . . The functioning comfortable ones?” He walks from his room, moving back to the kitchen and leaning against the counter again. “I know nothing about boots. You’re asking me the wrong kind of question there.”
Making Cyrin blush was one of Arthur's new favorite activities. "Oh, c'mon, you act like I've never said such things to you before. You know you like it." he said with a smirk.
He grinned at the question. "I mean… I certainly wouldn't turn it down… though you'll be cold, I'm sure, unless something or someone keeps you warm…"
The pink tint to Cyrin's face was adorable.
"Functioning comfortable ones. Any particular stylistic choices you'd like to make within those categories? I can make sure you're buying functioning comfortable brands, if you wanna choose what they look like."
Cyrin huffs, crossing his arms. His face still adorably pin, he mutters, “Me liking it is besides the point, Arthur. . .” He looks back up at Arthur, blinking once.
“I-. . .” He bites down on his lower lip, clearing his throat. “Right. . . And I’m sure that you’d be the one loving to keep me warm.”
He rolls his eyes slightly, crossing his arms, “How am I supposed to know what boots look fashionable or not? They’re boots. I don’t really care what they look like. NOt like I’m going to wear them as often as you wear yours.”
