you were the answer to my dreams

His hands tenderly enveloped the warm china, seeking any bit of heat his sluggish physique might find. A soft yawn crossed the still waking vampire's lips as his blue gaze fell upon the amber liquid within his teacup. Although there was no doubt the vampire relished in the taste of that tea, and the fashion it seemed to warm his very soul, his own thoughts still weighed so heavily upon tonight's festivities with such clear apprehension. Though such emotions hardly showed upon the vampire's features, he still fretted, all the same, of what vague memories he had of his last encounter with his husband's father. That is - if 'memories' was even the correct word, to begin with. It seemed like such a hazy dream, one in which the clicking metal so seemed to reverberated to point that it left a lasting impression upon the undead man. His tongue gingerly reached up to brush over his fangs, reassuring himself all over again that they were still very much there. Surely, Matteo had not truly threatened to take his fangs, had he? He should have asked Arlo prior to now. A soft sigh left the vampire's lips, the sound alone seemingly audible enough to earn him the attention of the fae Monarch just across the room from him.

He was entirely aware of the weight of those silver eyes upon his semi-dressed form. The vampire presently sported little more than a rarely worn pair of undergarments and a thin, ivory undershirt. His hair was thoroughly askew, that sleep still clinging to him. That first and last hour he was given every day was distinctly difficult for the Englishman as if the sun was unwilling to relinquish its grip upon him. Slowly, his blue eyes turned upwards, eying the Italian fae who seemed to so intently keen on watching him in return. That questioning glance, however, seemed more than enough to bring a grin to his lover's features. That very mention of his hair however, caused the Victorian vampire to reach upwards, his fingers running through his light brunette locks in a small glimpse of concern. Just how askew was his hair? That soft chuckle upon the King's lips was hardly reassuring. "I'm glad you enjoy it." He muttered softly only to bring that teacup to his lips, regretfully enjoying those final sips of the tea within. As much as he hated to admit it, he did need to see about getting dressed for tonight's festivities. He could already feel Alexander and Matteo within their home. Those instincts, combined with the flurry of noises emanating from downstairs near assured him of such.

His blue eyes followed his lover all the same as Dorian crossed the room, only to settle unexpectedly upon his lap. One hand dropped from his teacup, settling around his lover's waist to pull the man closer towards him. How he wished he could merely skip Thanksgiving and stay nestled within the bedroom sheets with Dorian alone. How often such desires tugged at him, and how often too were they impossible. His lover's assurances that his father liked him, however, was met with a clearly skeptical look upon his features, particularly considering his last encounter with the fae. Matteo had a fashion of eying him in a way that was nothing short of...disconcerting. He knew, however, that his own assurances of Matteo's distaste for him often fell on deaf ears when it came to his lover and so, it was instead the King's assurance of that face he made that prompted any sort of disagreement from Sebastian. "I do not." He commented, his voice sounding far poutier than he had actually meant it to be. His complaint seemed to prompt ready laughter from his husband as Dorian leaned forward to press his lips against his cheek. That very glimpse of affection had a habit of chasing away his worry, even if it was but for a short amount of time.

He knew well, after all, just how much Dorian was looking forward to the holiday - the first one the Italian Monarch was going to have with the entirety of his side of their little family. Another soft sigh left Sebastian's lips at that notion of getting dressed and yet, his head bobbed ever so slightly all the same. "I did." He confirmed, both the palace, his business, and his own staff knew that he was not to be disturbed tonight unless absolutely necessary. Sebastian was, admittedly, reluctant to release his lover, tugging him back just long enough to press his lips against the Monarch's own, stealing that sweet kiss before he allowed himself to be dragged to the wardrobe. It took him far less consideration to pull on a pair of dark grey dress pants. His own button down shirt was chosen with only a brief moment's consideration before Sebastian found himself watching his lover as Dorian so struggled with his own choice of shirt. A small simper crossed his features as he watched his lover for several long moments, at least until Dorian finally settled on a collared shirt he viewed acceptable.

The vampire drifted towards the bathroom, setting about washing off his face and any hint of sleep that still remained, brushing his hair, and, most importantly of all, seeing to brushing his teeth. Sebastian glanced only vaguely towards the bedroom at the sound of the knock upon their door and yet his sound of Charles' voice was enough to put the vampire at ease. He focused, instead, upon cleaning those sharpened fangs, only to spit out the rest of his toothpaste. Sebastian easily slid his own forest green button down shirt over his shoulders, buttoning each button with care before his wrists were dotted with the very same cologne Dorian had become infatuated with all those years ago. Sebastian stepped out of the bathroom, only to watch as his husband thrust something into the top drawer, slamming it shut with far more gusto than Sebastian thought necessary. An inquisitive look crossed his features at Dorian's own sheepish glance. His eyebrow rose at Dorian's mention of socks. "Oh...okay...?" The Englishman inquired, entirely baffled by that excuse he was given. He took a step forward, clearly curious of those very socks only for Dorian to so quickly change the topic to that matter that brought him such anxiety - the holiday downstairs.

His hand fit within Dorian's own, allowing his lover to lead him downstairs to the men he had been striving to avoid. The vampire was entirely aware of those scents that hit him the moment they stepped out of the bedroom. Even Sebastian could not deny that dinner smelled absolutely...wonderful. A small simper brushed across his lips at the grin Dorian gave him. He gestured slightly towards the two men that settled in their living room, encouraging Dorian forward all the same. That gentle squeeze was hardly as reassuring as Sebastian was sure it was meant to be, those glimpses of dreamlike memories still drifted upon his mind, even though Sebastian hadn't the slightest notion of which parts were real and which were little more than the creation of his subconsciousness or imagination. He released Dorian's hand as his husband embraced his father, that hug was almost sweet to see, considering the distance that had once existed between the pair nearly a year prior. His gaze darted briefly towards the table and the golden hue that, naturally, captured his lover's attention. How very like Dorian to have such a love for the color of plates.

It was only once his husband moved on towards his Godfather that Sebastian turned to take his place before his Father-in-Law. "Good evening, Matteo." He commented, his hand extended readily towards the Frenchman, the small simper upon his features entirely cordial. When uncertainty and anxiety so befell upon him, Sebastian had a tendency to retreat to that demeanor of the English gentleman he had been so trained to be from such a young age. It was only once he' shaken Matteo's hand that he offered Dorian's Godfather the same sort of greeting, his attention, however, deviated from the Dark Hunter by Dorian's own inquiry. His blue eyes turned towards the dining room table only for his head to tilt almost inquisitively. Was someone bringing a guest to their family dinner? Matteo had quite clearly seen enough into the future to know they would need another place setting and yet, the question as to who it was lingered quite poignantly.

Sebastian Ellington-Aragona