shi-no-toge:

hanakotobawakodoku:

Entirely unaware that he had an audience, Eric kept it up. His movements were fluid, hips inspired to sway with the music and feet bouncing against the bed in time. Yes, he was the sort to go about dancing on his bed. And while he wasn’t bad at it, it seemed his balance needed a little work — for one wrong step and he was sent (in a fit of loud shouts and cursing) tumbling to the ground with a crash. Sheets tangled around his legs and hair disheveled.

Alan laughed shyly. “Alright. I’ll have a bite, but you have to promise I can get back in your lap afterwards.” he teased lightly, reluctantly getting up to rummage through his fridge. He did indeed have some leftover soup, and placed the pot back on the oven for a moment to heat it back up. He hummed softly to himself as he did, stomach growling loudly. “Goodness.” he mumbled. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just then.

“Or I could always jus’ feed ye meself.” Eric quipped teasing, propping his arm on the table and then his chin upon his palm. He watched Alan work over the soup with fondness in his eyes. “Always thought ye’d have an apron for cookin’ in. I have tae admit, ’m disappointed."