Miles burst out laughing and leaned back as their food was brought out to them. Once they were alone again, he kissed Taraga's hand one more time before letting it go.
"Alright, alright. I shall not argue with my future husband. We are sinners tonight."
Taraga's expression soften when Miles' lips press against his hand. Sure, it's happened before, but... This time feels different. It feels like a promise. But now that both his hands are free, he's able to dig his phone out to text his friend. They need that appointment to make all this happen, after all!
"Well there's no reason for it not to be. We already know we get along splendidly."
He chuckled and had a bite of his food, watching Taraga text. No need to ask who. He was already sure it was to make the appointment for tomorrow. For their wedding. That apparently they were going to rush into doing. Well, why not? It didn't feel like a terrible idea at any rate.
Once he's done, he tucks his phone away and turns his attention to the food. His dish is a basic piece of roast with vegetables. Filling after a day of simply snacking. Or forgetting to eat entirely, which has been known to happen.
"You know what else is special? Going to your place. I don't think I've been there yet since you came to my studio while I was painting you."
"I can't tell you that it's amazing. I don't spend a lot of time at home." It was presentable but not exciting. He'd lived there awhile and still hadn't personalized it. Unfortunately.
Hopefully there would be some work files just sitting out.
"I'll do my best to check any judgement I might have," he teases. He's sure it would be fine. As long as it wasn't disgusting... No pests, not spoiling food just setting out, stuff like that. Taraga's studio is rarely tidy because he works in it, so he can't be too harsh on others. Especially his future husband!
He bowed his head with a laugh. He certainly wasn't looking for forgiveness or a lack of judgement in actuality but getting that was appreciated anyway. Maybe if he had someone to come home to... Ah but that was just wishful thinking that didn't really apply here right?
"Thanks. I'll try to pick up anything inappropriate when we get there if I see it out."
"My work is all over my place and I don't think it affected our mood at all." Or maybe it just didn't affect his since he lives there and he's used to it? "Don't worry. If there's anything I shouldn't see, I promise I won't try to look."
"I wouldn't say my work is pieces of fine art though." Dealing with fine art but not actually fine art itself. Things that just probably shouldn't be seen by others outside the office.
That brought a laugh to his lips as he nodded. "Of course they are fine art. I knew that the moment I first saw your sketch in the museum. You have a talent and your future husband would hate to fail to see that."
"Well, I hope my future husband realizes I won't be famous until after I'm dead. That's always how it works with art." Taraga doesn't really expect to be famous. He just wants to paint. He just wants to put his vision on canvas and hope that maybe someone out there in the world will feel something inside them change when they see it.
"Fame is a small thing really. I like to think that the emotions of a work matter more. Someone who has no concept of art can look at a Van Gogh and be moved without ever knowing his name or how he struggled in life. I feel that when I look at your work." Miles smiled warmly at him. He really meant every word of what he was saying. Taraga really had a gift and he admired it.
"If I'm the only one who gets to understand that for now? Then I'm a very lucky man."
Taraga props his hand up and rests his chin on the back of it while staring with unmasked fondness across the table. For all their playful bantering, hearing that really means something to him.
"Funny, that sounds exactly like something my husband would say." Then a dramatic sigh. "Let's accept that we'll never be rich on the salary of a painter and a cop."
"Well, I'm not a cop so there's that. But I really don't need much."
Miles chuckled and leaned back to accept their drinks which had been brought to the table. When they were alone again, he leaned forward. "I don't mind not having money as long as I have my husband though."
"I bet you say that to all the guys you're about to marry," he teases with a lilting note of laughter.
Taraga's smile softens, but doesn't dim entirely. Something about being with Miles always makes him feel happier. Not that he's a particular morose sort of painter, but even he has his moods. Whatever it is, he always feels a little lighter with Miles. He takes a sip from his drink and sighs, satisfied with it.
"I'm really going to start believing you're not a cop at this rate."
"Well since I've only ever had one fiancé, I can say that's very true."
This really no longer felt like a joke. Yet that didn't bother him in the slightest for some reason. It probably should if they were just going to go get married tomorrow but here he was instead. Continuing to indulge this. For who exactly at this point he could no longer say.
That last part made him laugh though. "I hope so because I've never lied about that. I'm not a cop."
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"So we have our unofficial wedding tonight then get the paperwork tomorrow."
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"Alright, alright. I shall not argue with my future husband. We are sinners tonight."
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"I foresee a very amenable marriage for us."
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He chuckled and had a bite of his food, watching Taraga text. No need to ask who. He was already sure it was to make the appointment for tomorrow. For their wedding. That apparently they were going to rush into doing. Well, why not? It didn't feel like a terrible idea at any rate.
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"You know what else is special? Going to your place. I don't think I've been there yet since you came to my studio while I was painting you."
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Hopefully there would be some work files just sitting out.
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"Thanks. I'll try to pick up anything inappropriate when we get there if I see it out."
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"If I'm the only one who gets to understand that for now? Then I'm a very lucky man."
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"Funny, that sounds exactly like something my husband would say." Then a dramatic sigh. "Let's accept that we'll never be rich on the salary of a painter and a cop."
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Miles chuckled and leaned back to accept their drinks which had been brought to the table. When they were alone again, he leaned forward. "I don't mind not having money as long as I have my husband though."
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Taraga's smile softens, but doesn't dim entirely. Something about being with Miles always makes him feel happier. Not that he's a particular morose sort of painter, but even he has his moods. Whatever it is, he always feels a little lighter with Miles. He takes a sip from his drink and sighs, satisfied with it.
"I'm really going to start believing you're not a cop at this rate."
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This really no longer felt like a joke. Yet that didn't bother him in the slightest for some reason. It probably should if they were just going to go get married tomorrow but here he was instead. Continuing to indulge this. For who exactly at this point he could no longer say.
That last part made him laugh though. "I hope so because I've never lied about that. I'm not a cop."