writing in tiny.

Enciodes knows exactly what Courier is up to, but he plays along anyways.

He's aware of the dates and what celebrations are taking place, the convenient absence of the mountains of paperwork that usually litters his desk (also Courier's doing), and the disappearance of a certain Executor that excused himself early for the day, his usually impassive face lighting up slightly at something on his phone as he ushers out of the council's office.

He's aware that all this is part of Courier's plan, a faint smile gracing his lips as he spins around in his chair to face the beaming Itra, hands folded neatly below his chin.

The Itra also knows that he knows. Enciodes is far too perceptive of the smallest of details, too familiar with Courier to not be able to read him like a book. Those clear blue eyes sparkle nonetheless, his smile soft compared to what Enciodes dubs as his 'customer service smile'. It's one that he only wears in the Feline's presence, one that widens as he places the freshly picked bouquet on his desk. The vivid petals of heliotropes and bluebells weave seamlessly to form the outer ring surrounding the muted yellow of edelweiss that sits in the middle, the scent of morning dew still heavy when he picks it up to examine the flowers more closely.

“No work today?” Encio asks casually with a raised eyebrow, despite already knowing the answer. Courier shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping.

“No one came in to submit anything, Master. I think everyone is too caught up with Valentine's at the moment,” he lies, so naturally that anyone other than Enciodes wouldn't have been able to pick up on it.

The coffee stain on Courier's desk says otherwise, though. It indicates that he single handedly finished all of their paperwork from early in the morning, just to lead up to this single moment.

“And Executor?”

“Out on a date with Flamebringer. He already filed all the documents before leaving.”

“I see.” He doesn't try to keep the amusement out of his voice, leaning back and holding the bouquet close to him, a fragile beauty that may shatter if not handled with care. “Then I assume that there are no further schedules or appointments I must attend for the whole day?”

“None at all.”

“How convenient.”

There's an impish glint in Courier's eyes, ears twitching in barely contained joy as he sits on the edge of the desk, leaning forward enough until they're at proper eye level. “It is, isn't it? You know what that means, right?”

The grin on his face would've been infectious if Encio is the type to be openly expressive, but all he manages is a huff as he also moves closer, enough to see the freckles dusting his beloved Itra's cheeks. He holds Courier by the chin, inching him forward juuust a little bit more until their noses touch.

“You were kind enough to bring me flowers, dear Courier. I suppose this calls for a celebration of our own.”

Courier hums, closing the distance with a cheeky peck on the lips and oh does Enciodes crave for another taste, only to have the other pull away before their lips can connect once more.

“Encio.” His name spilling from Courier's lips in that wonderfully clear voice and upwards lilt of his tone is the most beautiful sound he will never get tired of hearing, as Courier hops off the desk to do a little twirl in the middle of the tiny office, cramped and not fit as a picturesque scene for what is otherwise a romantic scene, but the view is endearing nonetheless and tugs at his heartstrings all the same. Courier holds out his hand, one fang peeking out from the corner of his lips as he does so. “I hope you're still light on your feet for a little dance.”

How frivolous. How enticing. An existence that dares to tease and poke fun at a figure as imposing as Enciodes.

How exciting.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as he rises from his seat, slipping his coat off and hangs it on the armrest. He takes wide strides to reach the shining Itra at the center of their little universe, taking his hand, calloused yet delicate in his own way, to brush his lips against the back of his palm. Encio delights at the warm flush that spreads on Courier's cheeks, the grip he has on his phone fumbling as he struggles to presumably choose a music.

“You have nothing to worry about, my love. I will never forget the steps I taught you myself.”

His arm winds around Courier’s slender waist, fingers tangling together and he squeezes once to feel the pulse that lays beneath sun-kissed skin, bashful eyes so deeply blue and enchanting as his lover peers up at him through hazel locks.

Enciodes tugs, and as naturally as everything they do, Courier follows. Always.