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Win follows his parents into the opulent room where his potential future spouse is waiting for him. Through a process of elimination, he focuses on the youngest person present, the one whose eyes are just as intent on Win as Win imagines his own are on him.
His name is Team, and that’s all Win remembers—and only because his mother reminded him ten minutes ago.
Team’s parents acknowledge Win’s with warm smiles, and then their eyes tick up to Win’s hair for a tense instant. Win has the grace to feel a little sheepish. His parents told him to change it back to black before tonight, but he didn’t make the time to do it and when he arrived at the restaurant just now, his mother gave him a long-suffering sigh and his father briefly entertained the fantasy of finding him a hat.
Team gives him the smallest nuance of a smile, though, so Win puts aside that one particular concern about his hair. There’re plenty of concerns left, but at least he’s confident that one person in the room seems to have received a positive first impression from his looks.
Probably best not to mention the tattoos until next time—if there is one.
Their private room overlooks the garden, in the center of which is a clever assortment of trees and plantlife that obscure them from view of patrons and staff in other areas of the circular restaurant. The inside of the room glows from soft candlelit lanterns arranged across the hardwood floor, and from outside pours in light from thousands of tiny gold and lavender bulbs wrapped around the branches and trunks of the trees. The silence in the room is deep enough that Win can even hear the rock fountain in the garden spilling a continuous trickle of water from the top.
He sits between his parents, directly opposite Team, and takes a moment to appreciate what he sees. Team’s portrait doesn’t do him justice. The real person is much more animated, even when he isn’t speaking. He’s thinking a hundred things at once, if his eyes are any indication, and Win suddenly wants to skip this dinner and get to the part where they can talk to each other privately.
Introductions from their parents are brief. They’ve already been exchanging messages with each other for weeks, and the point of tonight is for them to introduce their children to each other. Win listens to everyone with the respect they’re owed, and when his parents introduce him first—since he’s a little older than Team—he tries to look responsible and trustworthy in spite of the blond up top.
“Win was planning to change his hair back to normal,” his father says, “but there was an emergency at work that needed his full energy.”
Win goes along with that even though he didn’t go to work today.
“I made my hair purple once,” Team’s father says. He glances at Win with the smallest of smiles, and Team’s mother seems to do her level best to conceal her own.
Win’s shoulders relax.
Once the hair issue is brought up and dismissed, Win’s parents do a little more traditional promotion on his behalf. They focus on his education and his standing in university at the top of his class, but they also mention his position at the company and confirm his leading status there despite being the second son. (“My eldest has different career goals, sadly.”) They direct all of this talk to Team’s parents, even though they’ve undoubtedly heard and approved all of this and it’s actually for their son’s benefit—even though Team was probably briefed on Win the same way Win was briefed on Team.
From the way Team raises his eyebrows and nods with sincere interest at the most basic of facts about Win’s education and career, he’s forgotten a number of key bits of information just like Win has about Team.
Parents tend to talk to each other first at these things, while the children size each other up the way Win and Team are doing now. Win showed up tonight to please his parents, and even though he reminds himself of that every few minutes or so, he’s genuinely intrigued by the way Team openly studies him.
Team’s mother says of her son, “He’s done quite well in his most recent competitions,” and Win wonders with a jolt of panic what kind of competition she’s talking about.
Team is watching him, though, so he nods as if he’s impressed.
When Win agreed to an arranged marriage, he understood the details involved. He knew he’d be getting a life partner, not a romantic match. He knew that over time he might grow to respect and appreciate his spouse the way his parents respect and appreciate each other even after twenty-four years of marriage. At twenty-two, Win has never fallen in love, and even if he someday does, as long as he and his spouse discuss that potentiality early on it won’t be a betrayal but a subject of mutual understanding.
When he said as much to his parents weeks ago at breakfast, they exchanged a glance over the table.
“I wouldn’t bring that up during the first dinner,” Win’s mother said.
Win’s father added, “Or the second.”
“Save it for the end of your fifth,” Win’s mother said. “Then at least they’ll know you gave them a shot before deciding you probably won’t ever fall in love with them.“
Win’s father considered this, then nodded and sipped his tea.
“Funny,” Win told them. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask them if either of them had ever fallen in love with anyone else, but he stopped himself before he overstepped.
Once the introductions have concluded, the staff arrive with a cart laid out with porcelain cups so finely crafted that Win can see through the inside to the jasmine petal pattern finely inked in pink on the outside. While one staff person sets the cups on the table one at a time, another explains to them how the painstaking design and exquisite material of the cups enhances the taste of tonight’s tea. While their parents listen with interest, Win keeps an eye on Team, who’s eyeing him back.
Win grins, and grins wider when Team hides a smile.
He wasn’t planning to flirt tonight. This is meant to be a friendly sort of business meeting. A chance for Win and Team to meet each other under controlled circumstances and decide if they want to pursue anything further on their own.
When the first course arrives, Win discreetly catches his mother’s eye and nods. In line with her role as consummate strategist of the family, she doesn’t outwardly react, but halfway into the meal she tells Team, “Why don’t you let Win show you some of his work after dessert? We have some things to discuss with your parents that wouldn’t interest either of you.”
Team says, “Sure,” while helping himself to more snow crab. When Win makes an amused noise, he glances up, seems to realize his lapse in manners and corrects himself with a, “Yes, I’d like that,” directed at Win’s mother. When the conversation moves on, Team meets Win’s eyes and mouths, “Oops.”
Win stifles a laugh under a cough.
•
Win polishes off his dessert in a single bite—which isn’t much of a challenge considering how small the portion is. This frees him up to enjoy the show of Team trying to stretch his portion out as long as possible by taking five equally tiny bites. Then, as if to drive home his dessert-devouring diligence, Team drags his spoon through the decorative mango syrup on the plate with the slightest hint of sorrow.
Win considers asking one of the staff where the nearest bakery is. At least now he’s learned one thing about Team that no one’s told him tonight: the man likes food.
He makes a mental note to ask Pharm for a favor later.
When Win opens his mouth to suggest to Team that they go for a walk as his mother proposed earlier, a subtle white light pulses from Team’s eyes.
Magic? At dinner?
What is he going to do, duplicate the dessert?
To Win’s profound amusement, though, something different happens. As if engaged in the tiniest visible parade, six crumbs and a trickle of syrup climb onto Team’s spoon. It isn’t until Team has the spoon in his mouth and a smile on his lips that he notices Win watching him. Even then, Team only raises his eyebrows in a challenging sort of as if you don’t want to do the same now expression.
Well.
Win considers his parents on either side of him talking to Team’s parents about how they got into the trade they’re in. Warlocks and witches are told from a very, very young age that magic should never be used at the dinner table. Some of the worst dinner gaffes in history have occurred when energy levels are low and magic is at its most unstable. But Win didn’t go into work today and he’s barely used his magic at all, so….
He brings his gaze up from his empty plate to Team, who seems a little smug, like he doesn’t think Win will do it.
They have a lot to learn about each other.
With a slightly larger burst of energy than he usually calls on outside work, Win brings the tiny wedge of tart crust from his father’s plate. It moves in increments through the air close to the surface of the table, and Win guides it behind as many obstructions as he can until it’s safely on his plate. He’s about seventy percent sure his father saw, but he hasn’t given Win away yet. Win sneaks a glance at Team and finds him frowning in curiosity.
To hide his eyes glowing as he works, Win takes a sip from his teacup and pretends that his newly acquired tart crust isn’t crumbling into fifty specks and spelling out “I’m not hungry” upside-down for Team’s benefit.
Team lifts his head a little to read it across the table, then breaks into a full grin. Win can’t look away from him for an instant.
When their eyes meet again, there’s the start of real warmth between them.
•
It’s less cute when, on the night of their wedding, Win lifts a spoon of his own dessert to Team’s lips and Team tells him, “I’m not hungry,” with a smirk.