Break, meanwhile, is in that warm, dozey, abnormally cooperative mood he gets into when he doesn't get to nap right after sex. Bereft of all the cuddles he'd like, he's contenting himself playing with the end of the scarf instead. When they get to the car he somehow manages to drape himself across the passenger seat, a bit rumpled and still smelling faintly of coconut.
"I know where everyfing is in this store," he says, sounding content as can be. "It won't take us long."
Knave arches a brow silently at him, eyes lifting to look out the back window as he backs the car out of his parking space and starts driving out into the night.
"What are you looking to buy? Aside from...Oreos."
"Oh, wheaty crackers, nuts, yogurt. A bit of juice in case I do get shaky. Cheese."
Unexpectedly healthy, all things considered -- all the sugar he is seen eating is a supplement to his diet, not anywhere close to the entirety of it. Knave will probably be quite dismayed once he realizes just how much this man actually eats.
"So as long as you know what you are getting," he says, faintly suspicious, stopping and going and following traffic rules like he's supposed to set an example for Break.
If Break knew Knave was thinking that he'd get a very flat look and, depending on Break's mood, either lectured or taken horrible advantage of. As it is, though, Break's a bit too dreamy to argue with him at the moment. So he shrugs, instead.
"If it pleases you, I s'pose. But then I want to take you out to the restaurants I like. This next weekend, let's definitely go out for brunch."
There's a long pause, and Knave turns at Broadway, contemplating what it meant that Break was deciding that he was going to take him out for brunch. A part of him was worried he'd miss a special on jellyfish, another was worried about what was expected of him next weekend.
"It's a date, then," Break declares helpfully, reaching over to poke Knave in the cheek as he pulls into the parking lot. "I know where you live now, so there's no getting out of it."
"I know where you live, too," he says, faintly, ears turning red and turning away as he undoes his seatbelt. A date. He hasn't had a date in a while; Charlotte was...well, she made it so that she was hard to forget.
"Oh, right. 'Cause you stalk me all over the place."
Break climbs out of the car and indulges in a long stretch. He likes being out at this time of night; he likes the way the city lights look in the dark. Once Knave has rounded the car to come up to his side, he taps his own head and teases, "It's all up here, mate. You know I can't read me own handwriting half the time anyway."
So saying he slides his arm through Knave's and starts off toward the store. Knave managed to get him to cover up the marks on his neck, but he'll have a much harder time with the public displays of affection, at least outside of the office.
He has little choice but to follow, actually, too polite to shove Break off. His cheeks are faintly coloured, stepping slightly behind Break as he's confronted by, well. The grocery store. And a lot of students.
"...I had thought there would be less people at this time."
"Weren't you ever a college student?" Break asks. Not that he ever was one, but he won't admit it unless pressed, and he's never pressed. "Most of them are nocturnal to some degree."
There are a bunch of baskets by the door with the carts; Break swoops down to get one without missing a beat, still dragging Knave with him. He skips the first several aisles and guides them unerringly down the snack-and-cookies aisle, aiming straight for the Oreos first.
"I do not remember much of my college years," he replies, resisting the urge to start rubbernecking wildly in all directions, all this junk food is a little...frightening.
His business management course had been refreshed by years of reading, but memories not contained in books had been lost. He's had a lot of deja vu over the past decade, but not concerning this aisle.
He might be clinging a little, taking the basket from Break and holding it out slightly for the cookies.
"Is that 'cause you were drunk or stoned or bofe for most of 'em? I've known people like that." He's teasing, of course -- Knave was actually probably one of the few college students ever to exist who actually slept when he was supposed to and they both know it.
Cookies obtained, he surrenders the basket easily and shifts to hold onto Knave's hand, instead; it'll make it easier to keep hold of him and still move through the throng of people. On the way to the soda aisle where the whole wheat chips he wants are, a jock-looking student coughs "queer" into his hand.
"Yes~?" he sing-songs, turning to the boy expectantly. When he flushes and sputters, not expecting an actual reaction, Break says, "Ohhhh. Shy one, are you? That's cute." Then he makes a kissy noise at him right there in front of his friends and continues merrily on his way, Knave still in tow.
After they round the corner, he skips the next aisle and marches straight into the one he wants, grabbing a bag of the chips he likes in passing and then pausing for a foot-tall jar of salted cashews after that. They're on sale, fortunately. Nuts are expensive, and Break is oblivious.
Knave doesn't mind at all; if he's high up enough in the company to be able to speak to Rufus Barma directly, he can afford all the nuts Break bothers to get.
(He should probably get the man a nutritionist, too.)
"Watch your sodium," he points out, peering at a pack of potato chips and frowning.
Any discussion Break ever had with a proper nutritionist would probably need to be videotaped and put on youtube.
"And before you get all fussy," Break says, marching off to the refrigeratables, "I have been dealing wiv this for a couple of decades now, and I go to the doctor for a basic check up once a year even if I don't want to, and so I know for a fact that my blood pressure and all the rest of it is completely fine, and I haven't even gotten dizzy in free months, and I fink it's been six since I fainted last."
Break squeezes Knave's hand, and sidles up closer to him when they get into the cold part of the grocery store. He quite likes having someone with him while he's out doing mundane things like taunting random people in grocery stores and finding snacks.
It's less crowded here; most of the students really just want cookies and beer. Several little cherry yogurts are dropped into the basket, and a bit of string cheese, and a carton of some sort of Tropicana juice called "Berry Punch", and then --
"Ah! I know what I want. D'you keep milk at home? I didn't check."
2%, hopefully, but he can make do with anything. Really, it's only to keep his cereal from being completely dry. The cereal aisle, in fact, is where Knave is getting dragged now.
"I might have. Cherries are my favorite, you know." Which is a yes. Maybe he should get a jar of maraschinos, too.
"All of the truffles in one of the boxes had a bite taken out of them," Knave replies, mildly, not looking to confront him, just to let him know that he notices things.
He eyes the basket contents and promptly decides that it's a little like shopping for a particularly fastidious five-year-old.
"Can you tie a knot in a cherry stem?" He asks curiously.
"Ah. Yep, that was me~" Not at all sorry. Nibbles are his tried and true method of staking out a claim on his candy for later; useful when you have a little sister who is also a sugar fiend but remains conveniently convinced that brothers have some form of cooties.
Fastidious five-year-old, indeed.
"I can, in fact, tie a knot in a cherry stem," he says, making a beeline for the Fruity Pebbles. "Can you?"
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"I know where everyfing is in this store," he says, sounding content as can be. "It won't take us long."
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"What are you looking to buy? Aside from...Oreos."
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Unexpectedly healthy, all things considered -- all the sugar he is seen eating is a supplement to his diet, not anywhere close to the entirety of it. Knave will probably be quite dismayed once he realizes just how much this man actually eats.
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"Get what you want. I will pay."
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Maybe he can keep Break around with that, for a little while longer.
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"If it pleases you, I s'pose. But then I want to take you out to the restaurants I like. This next weekend, let's definitely go out for brunch."
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"...all right." He's smiling slightly.
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Knave really should have a TiVo by now anyway.
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"Perhaps you should have prepared a list?"
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Break climbs out of the car and indulges in a long stretch. He likes being out at this time of night; he likes the way the city lights look in the dark. Once Knave has rounded the car to come up to his side, he taps his own head and teases, "It's all up here, mate. You know I can't read me own handwriting half the time anyway."
So saying he slides his arm through Knave's and starts off toward the store. Knave managed to get him to cover up the marks on his neck, but he'll have a much harder time with the public displays of affection, at least outside of the office.
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"...I had thought there would be less people at this time."
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There are a bunch of baskets by the door with the carts; Break swoops down to get one without missing a beat, still dragging Knave with him. He skips the first several aisles and guides them unerringly down the snack-and-cookies aisle, aiming straight for the Oreos first.
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His business management course had been refreshed by years of reading, but memories not contained in books had been lost. He's had a lot of deja vu over the past decade, but not concerning this aisle.
He might be clinging a little, taking the basket from Break and holding it out slightly for the cookies.
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Cookies obtained, he surrenders the basket easily and shifts to hold onto Knave's hand, instead; it'll make it easier to keep hold of him and still move through the throng of people. On the way to the soda aisle where the whole wheat chips he wants are, a jock-looking student coughs "queer" into his hand.
"Yes~?" he sing-songs, turning to the boy expectantly. When he flushes and sputters, not expecting an actual reaction, Break says, "Ohhhh. Shy one, are you? That's cute." Then he makes a kissy noise at him right there in front of his friends and continues merrily on his way, Knave still in tow.
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His hand curls tight around Break's, falling into step beside him as they walk past the instant noodles. He flexes his fingers experimentally.
"Xerxes—" he starts, trailing off.
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After they round the corner, he skips the next aisle and marches straight into the one he wants, grabbing a bag of the chips he likes in passing and then pausing for a foot-tall jar of salted cashews after that. They're on sale, fortunately. Nuts are expensive, and Break is oblivious.
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(He should probably get the man a nutritionist, too.)
"Watch your sodium," he points out, peering at a pack of potato chips and frowning.
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Any discussion Break ever had with a proper nutritionist would probably need to be videotaped and put on youtube.
"And before you get all fussy," Break says, marching off to the refrigeratables, "I have been dealing wiv this for a couple of decades now, and I go to the doctor for a basic check up once a year even if I don't want to, and so I know for a fact that my blood pressure and all the rest of it is completely fine, and I haven't even gotten dizzy in free months, and I fink it's been six since I fainted last."
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Break squeezes Knave's hand, and sidles up closer to him when they get into the cold part of the grocery store. He quite likes having someone with him while he's out doing mundane things like taunting random people in grocery stores and finding snacks.
It's less crowded here; most of the students really just want cookies and beer. Several little cherry yogurts are dropped into the basket, and a bit of string cheese, and a carton of some sort of Tropicana juice called "Berry Punch", and then --
"Ah! I know what I want. D'you keep milk at home? I didn't check."
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He doesn't sound sure, he doesn't check his fridge a lot. He just has things delivered and cleaned out.
There's a small sound as he remembers something, brows drawing down a little.
"...did you touch one of the cherry truffle boxes?"
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2%, hopefully, but he can make do with anything. Really, it's only to keep his cereal from being completely dry. The cereal aisle, in fact, is where Knave is getting dragged now.
"I might have. Cherries are my favorite, you know." Which is a yes. Maybe he should get a jar of maraschinos, too.
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He eyes the basket contents and promptly decides that it's a little like shopping for a particularly fastidious five-year-old.
"Can you tie a knot in a cherry stem?" He asks curiously.
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Fastidious five-year-old, indeed.
"I can, in fact, tie a knot in a cherry stem," he says, making a beeline for the Fruity Pebbles. "Can you?"
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