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Dave's leaning against the island counter when Dirk comes back. His eyes are closed and he's tapping a rhythm against the granite with his fingers, rocks his head slightly back and forth, standing in such a way that gives non-existent curves to his ass and hips.
Dirk isn't used to seeing Dave like this, unaware of his presence of the room. They're always drawn to each other, have always managed to find one another even through the most crowded of rooms. But now here's Dave, standing in the kitchen without his shades or his shoes, and the soft sunset light that filters through the window gives his skin and hair a sort of a glow, soft and inviting.
He doesn't think before stepping closer, before putting the plastic bag on the countertop and grabbing Dave by the shirt and hauling him into a kiss without even letting go of the groceries first.
Dave startles, opens his eyes just a shade too late, and by then they're already attached at the lips. He relaxes against Dirk and he puts his arms around Dirk and lets his eyes slide shut again.
Dirk's addicted to him: to the warmth of his skin and the taste of his mouth. To how Dave leans into him when he shies from others' touches. To knowing that Dave wants this as much as Dirk, to knowing that no matter where Dirk goes, Dave will wait.