Lucky. Mason had never consider himself lucky, in act he thinks he is the unluckiest person you could ever find but right now, as he asks for Art’s coffee and his own, he considers himself the luckiest man on the planet cause even when there was a moment, when Art was still dating the skunk, that Mason thought he had lost Art forever and he was getting used to it, it didn’t hurt cause he never had Art for him and then, suddenly, everything changed and the luck was on his favour. He was Art’s boyfriend and to be honest, Mason couldn’t feel happier because he never though he would be walking towards a muggle park on a date with Art, his Art.
“I can imagine, when I first met you, you were tiny” Mason said with a smile, bending over to kiss Art’s cheek, then he started pushing him softly, the swing going back and forward softly. “You’re still quite tiny, you know?” he said, laughing softly. “But I like you that way, petite chéri” he laughs softly cause he knows is true, he likes everything about Art. His eyes, his hair, his size, his lips, his kisses, his hugs, the way he frowned when he was confused…Everything.
Art leaned into Mason’s kiss with a broad smile. He sighed as the warm touch left his face. “Tiny?” he raised a brow at the air as he was pushed. “Well, considering how much of a work out buff you are, a scrawny thing like me would look tiny any day.” Art decided not to vocalize the bit about how he loved Mason being a work out buff. Anything to keep on raking his nails across those tightly packed muscles during their more heated moments. “You’ve got to teach me how you do it. Especially at your age, old man” Art grinned, turning his head to look up at Mason.
Art felt his back bump against Mason every time he came back and smiled, remembering how it used to feel when he was a kid. “I used to hit Dad’s legs when I was little. Jesus, he was tall. The man was like six four or something. I dunno how I still remember that but I do” he said, more to himself than Mason. “Hey you know…in all the twenty five years I’ve known you…you’ve never told me about your parents” Art narrowed his eyes, turning to look at Mason again. This time he stopped the swing with a foot to the ground before he continued. “Do you remember them at all?”
Mason rolled his eyes at Art’s comment, smiling softly as he kept pushing the other man gently. “Well this old man knows you love him so shush!” he said, laughing softly. “Besides, I’m not that old” Mason said as a matter of fact, not that he cared about his age, he was happy with his years and his looks. In fact, he couldn’t understand why you everyone else seemed to freak out every time they had a birthday, for Mason it was a good thing to know he was still breathing and looking incredibly good.
As he listen to Art talking about his parents, the older man smiled, he would’ve loved to meet Art’s father and mother, for the stories he had heard in his twenty five years of knowing the Davenport family they were both charming and sweet. “My parents?” he asked, raising his eyebrows with surprise, he was caught completely off guard. “That’s true, I’ve never talk about them…But don’t feel bad, I’ve never talk about them to anyone” he sighed, looking at some point in the grass, then back at Art with a nostalgic smile. “I just remember that my mother smelled like roses and that my father used glasses, I used to steal them all the time” he laughed at the faint memory of himself as a little kid wearing glasses and his father taking them away from his little hands with a smile. “But I don’t remember much” he shrugged not trying to give importance to it. “Few things that I don’t even know if are real or not”