The smell of spices hits Adalberto’s nose when they get to the door.

The apartment lights, sans the kitchen, are turned down low. Some sort of music fills the air between the smell of garlic.

She said he was just going to pick up wine, cheese and bread, just like his husband asked, but got sidetracked by a few extra treats along the way. The corner market by their apartment was always too tempting, and Brock would definitely tease him for it later.

He watches Brock sway to the quiet music, he looks focused, relaxed, and the sight makes Bertie feel warm.

He sets the grocery bag on the counter, which gets Brock’s attention enough to smile at him, before going back to swaying.

Bertie lets himself slink behind him, pressing himself against Brock’s back, moving with his sway. Bertie’s long arms wrap around Brock’s waist, Brock leans his head back slightly, enough to press against Bertie’s chest.

This is how they stay, the lingering jazz, the warm smell of tomato & rosemary.

Then Bertie leans in, bending down, they kiss the man, letting their lips linger on the top of his head, then he hears Brock chuckle.

“Isn’t bending down like that gonna hurt your back?”

Bertie rests their chin on his head, “That ship sailed a long time ago dear.”

Brock sighs, “It’s only a little unfair that you’re so much taller than me”

Bertie grins, “It’s either this or we get you a step stool.”

With his unoccupied hand, Brock lightly hits him. He sets the spoon down, then turns to face Bertie.

“I can reach you just fine thank you.” Suddenly Brock raises up, balancing on his tiptoes, to place a kiss on the bottom of Bertie’s lips.

Bertie meets him, of course he does, he holds his husband close. He takes in his cold skin, running his hand against the rough texture of his face. He keeps an arm around him, just to make sure the steady balance doesn’t shift.

Then he feels Brock jump, he falls off his tiptoes.

“The sauce!”

Brock turns around to what is clearly a now steaming and bubbling concoction. Bertie chuckles and presses another kiss to his head.

“Keep your eyes on the prize love.”

Brock grumbles with no malice behind it, “Well someone decided to distract me!”

“Do you want cheese bread or not?” Bertie retorts.

Brock grins at him, “the oven is already preheating, I didn’t forget.”

Bertie smiles back, then goes to get the groceries they brought home.

The warm silence fills the room again, with the promise of dinner getting closer.

Without warning, Brock asks, “What snacks did you buy?”

“Dammit.”