Hera: Our muses happily wed
“Evangeline~” Raphael sang, crawling into the bed that they had happily rested in for several years. He collapsed into the comforter, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her body close to his. “I was going to make you breakfast,” he began, sighing sweetly into the nape of her neck. “But I got distracted.” Eva quickly turned to face him, brows furrowed and lips pursued. “With what, Fangs?” It was a silly question, for at that moment, music from the old phonograph Raphael insisted on keeping quickly roared into with a large crescendo. Eva rolled her eyes playfully at the glass doors of the balcony as the phonograph sang.
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens;Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens; Brown paper packages tied up with string; These are a few of my favorite things~”
Raphael hummed along in her ear, knowing it would be a slight annoyance. “You know,” Eva pushed his shoulder, rolling herself atop of him. “I need to teach a little bit about modern music. I swear you would’ve caught on by now. I need to hide those records.” Raphael wrinkled his nose at the thought, resting his hands on her waist. “You could try.” He whispered, quickly sitting up and embracing her in an unbreakable hold. “There is only one thing I love more than my records.” There was no need to say more. Eva knew exactly what that thing was. Her.
“I love you, Fangs
Raphael. I love you, Raphael.” She hummed, running her fingers through his terra-cotta locks. “Sei tutto per me, cara mia.” He responded sweetly, kissing the apple of her cheek. “I will love you always. Always.”