headlining | FUTUROLOGY IC INBOX

The cat wanted to have some, too.

[He says, quietly, after that gentle kiss. Oh, he's so lucky. Mettaton's hair is slightly unkempt, strands of hair over his flawless face. Keats goes in for a quick reply with a soft kiss, before putting his attention back onto the breakfast being laid out in front of them.]

This is really quite the feat. [He shakes his head, as if he partially believes he's just seeing an illusion. To be fair, he's never had anyone put so much time and care into making something like breakfast for him, ever.] I have to wonder if I did something good to get this sort of treatment...

[Ah. Annie. Mettaton looks toward Keats' desk, where her basket is. Yep. There she is. Helping herself. That makes sense.

As does Keats seemingly drawing a blank at the occasion. It's been half a year, after all, and the start of their relationship was messy and full of sighs. It was BARELY a relationship. Honestly, what's important is that they're still together and Mettaton has every intention to tell him as such.]

...you don't remember...? [He whispers, his brows arch up onto a sort of shocked sadness.

But first he's going to watch him squirm.]

...Remember?

[Oh.]

[Oh, god. Ohhhh god. Did he forget an important date? It's Mettaton's birthday, isn't it? It's definitely probably Mettaton's birthday. Wait, why would he make breakfast for him if it's his birthday? BUT WAIT, MAYBE HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE BREAKFAST TO CELEBRATE.]

Uh. [Keats just blinks, clearly looking like he's screaming internally.]

H-happy birthday? Mettaton?

[...he doesn't remember. Keats doesn't remember. Mettaton's face remains stunned, like he's about to cry. How could this happen? After all the love and affection and work he's put into this relationship, Keats can't remember a single date...? Does it not mean anything to him?! Did NONE of this--

Okay, no, he can't. He can't keep it up in front of that face. Mettaton cracks, his pout briefly twisting itself into the face of a man desperately trying to hold back his own laughter before-- there it goes. He's already doubling over with the force of his uncontrollable giggles. Words are gone. There is only a living laughtrack.

Bent over and practically face-first into a glass of orange juice, gray text floats over Mettaton's head in lieu of the man himself have to wheeze out an explanation.]

HAPPY SIXTH MONTH ANNIVERSARY, YOU DORK

...What?

[WHAT.]

[He gapes. His mouth shuts. Then it opens again. He blinks, shaking his head like he is really trying his best to adequately read the words in front of him.]

Oh. [Wow, he sure feels stupid. Keats' cheeks flush, before he raises a hand to drag down his face.] Of course. Gosh, has it really been this long? I-I didn't even realize...

[Oh dear god has he hitched himself to a socially inept wagon. It's so... cute. And "gosh!!" Who says "gosh" anymore?!!

Okay. Okay, alright. Alright alright alright, you're good, Mettaton. Pull yourself together.

As if he hadn't collapsed in on himself to laugh at Keats' overwhelming helplessness in the face of romance, Mettaton pulls himself out of their drinks and offers an excited smile.]

"Gosh" indeed, my little cupcake. It's time for us to eat up, because we have a long day ahead of us. You see, I've fully planned our evening and night, but from now until then... [Wink.] It's your choice, darling. We can do whatever you'd like.

[He sprawls back into the sheets, flexing out his legs while one hand seductively trails along his own neck. He pulls down the cloth of his shirt, exposing his collarbone, and reaches out his other hand to run his fingertips along his boyfriend's beautiful cheekbones.

It was pure inner strength and class that kept him from lewdly gesturing with a sausage.]

Whatever you want, [he whispers, voice low.]

[...

Boop.]

Really, though. We need to have a talk about you not remembering my birthday, later.

[Whatever he'd like? He hasn't felt this much pressure since he had to stay up all night to turn in an article before 12am. He's about to stammer something about how he'd just really like to spend time with Mettaton, that's his only wish, when Mettaton just sprawls out like...that.]

Oh.

[His eyes are definitely wandering down in a very unsubtle way.]

Right.

[He clears his throat, reaching up to push up...glasses that are not there. God. He doesn't think he'll ever be over that habit. Embarrassed, he lets his hand fall, reaching over to trail his fingers over the hand currently resting on that lovely neck.]

Sorry about that. Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose? [He almost sounds sheepish.] I'll write it down so I won't forget. I promise...

[Pft. Yeah, yeah. Keats has room in that long-term memory for two things: fairy tales and receipts and, unfortunately, the date Mettaton designated as his birthday doesn't fall into either one. He's not mad about it. If anything, it's cute.

...won't stop him from hanging it over his head every once in awhile, though.

Whatever. There's a hand touching his own and Mettaton hums as he twists his hand around to entwine their fingers. Oh, cupcake...] I'm teasing, Keats. We can take a walk with Annie, if you want. Watch some documentaries. [Ha.] I know there's a dusty old book somewhere you were dying to inflict on me. It can be anything.

Besides. If you don't think that, [he languidly runs two of his fingers up and down one of his boyfriend's. L-lewd...] isn't on my side of the table, you're mistaken. [Heh.

...oh!

Just as quickly as he switched from sweet to sexy, Mettaton switches back again. He leans in, eyes bright and cheery as he runs his fingers through Keats' hair.] Do you want to change?

[Honestly, it's barely a question. Ever since Keats realized his boyfriend found his true form handsome instead of petrifying, he'd been warming up to it little by little. ...in private, of course - some things will always make them cagey - but it makes the robot happy anyway. It's nice, being trusted with something so big.

Literally. The real Keats is a big man with a lot of teeth and hair and Mettaton likes having something to braid.]

Edited (i thought of something cute, shut up) 2017-10-28 03:58 (UTC)

That's quite a lot of options. It's like you want to see me paralyzed with indecision.

[Seriously, he doesn't know where to start. The documentaries sound good, if they want a laugh. Walking around sounds nice. That...is also nice. There's so much they can do, and the whole days is just for them and them along.]

[He's grateful. He really is.]

[The question, however, makes his eyes widen.]

Change? [Clothes, he thinks, but then he realizes in two seconds what the other means. His cheeks flush, as if he's embarrassed by the notion of it. True, there's still some hesitation when he thinks about transforming nowadays, but with the acceptance and love that his boyfriend has shown him in that form, he's found it easier and easier to change. It doesn't even really hurt that much anymore.]

Alright, then. [He leans in, a brief kiss to the other's nose before he leans back. Instantly, his muscles bulge, hair lengthening in seconds as his whole body thickens and transforms. The only sound he makes is a quiet groan. He then opens his eyes with their new bright blue glow, somehow warm in feeling despite their color, and grins wide.]

Like so? [He lets out a short laugh.] Ah, you know I can't say no to you asking for that...

Ha. Like you need me to ask, [Mettaton teases, immediately finding the other's long hair with his hands. Some might compare it to cold, winter snow, but Mettaton only thinks of cascading water as it flows over his fingers. It matches the unnatural glow of his eyes, comforting in the dark like the echo flowers in Waterfall.

He pulls him in for another kiss, to confess quietly under his breath,] you look like home. [And he doesn't feel as homesick when they're together.

It's a nice moment that's easily jarred by a tiny weight throwing itself onto the bed and skittering into Keats' lap. It looks like Annie has the same attraction to Keats' true form as the robot, but for much more simple reasons. Those reasons being... "He Big." She makes herself comfortable kneading at the material of his slacks while purring and sniffing the air.

...oh. Right. Breakfast.]

Well! I'll let you think on what you want to do later, but for now... [Mettaton cuts off a portion of a partially-forgotten pancake, spears it with a fork, and holds it toward his boyfriend's lips. He's smiling, obviously intrigued with the idea of watching the man eat when he's several times bigger than usual. Will this breakfast even be enough, now?] Before someone decides this is her meal.

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