Work Text:
Huaisang surveys the sparse offerings of the kitchen cupboards. He even drags out the stepladder he keeps tucked up against the washing machine so he can really get a good look in the back and the corners, but aside from the nearly empty bottle of crushed red pepper flakes, he has precisely none of the ingredients to make a reasonable meal. He kicks the stool, stomps to the living room, and flops on the sofa with a dramatic sigh.
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing the tears that threaten to fall to just...stay. He’s being stupid about this. It’s not like he told Jiang Cheng he’d make dinner, but he really, really wants to. Jiang Cheng had shut down the tattoo parlor for the week so he and the staff could attend safety training in the capitol, needed to renew their business license, and he had been stressing about it. Huaisang knew Wei Ying had booked a long weekend away with his boyfriend as a reward, leaving Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng to look after the shop after the taxing week of training.
Jiang Cheng insists he doesn’t mind — it’s as much a break for us when he’s gone — but still. Huaisang wants to do something, so he decides to make dinner. Only to remember too late that he doesn’t cook if he can help it and thus has empty cupboards and six hours to figure something out. Nevermind that Jiang Cheng has no clue — Huaisang feels like a failure. When he feels the tightness in his chest, he rolls to his side and takes his phone from his pocket, tapping on the screen until the notes app comes up.
Huaisang has seen a lot of therapists in his day, but Doctor Zhu remains his favorite. The meek, professorial looking man had gotten Huaisang in the habit of writing things out when he couldn’t make himself speak and had helped him figure out that lists were a particularly useful tool. He scrolls now to a list of steps to pull himself out of an anxiety nosedive. Within fifteen minutes, he’s breathing easier, his heartbeat is steady and sure, his thoughts fall back into their usual gentle whirl, and he has an idea.
He arrives at the cafe at the same time as Jiang Yanli and Jin Ling, and when she links arms with him as easily as if he were one of her precious baby brothers, a bit more of the knot of unease from the morning loosens.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he says as they get in line.
“Thank you for calling, and for inviting A-Ling to join us,” she says. “Zixuan will be happy I actually took a lunch break today. Isn’t that right, A-Ling?”
“Yes.” Jin Ling takes Huaisang’s other hand and marches him toward the counter.
“Is that so?” Huaisang asks as they scan the lunch board.
“A bit. I’ve taken on a few freelance cases, helping do some research for a case that Qin Su’s firm has accepted, partly to help out family and partly to keep my hand in should I decide to practice law again myself. But we’ve been working to keep our weekends clear for family time -- no work, no homework for A-Ling -- and it’s worth it, but it takes a lot of effort.” She squeezes Huaisang’s arm. “I’ve heard the chicken and walnut salad is tasty.”
They settle into a booth in the corner of the cafe with their lunches and keep the conversation light as they eat. Yanli gently bullies Jin Ling into eating more vegetables and Huaisang into eating some more protein and not just bread.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Huaisang says as Yanli stacks their dishes in the center of the table, “but I brought a present for Jin Ling.”
Jin Ling’s eyes turn to saucers as he stares at Huaisang. “A present?” He looks to his mother. “I don’t have anything to give in return!” he says in a childish attempt to whisper.
“Well, it’s not really a present present,” Huaisang is quick to reassure him. He takes a notebook and pack of pencils from his bag. “Tell me what you think.”
Jin Ling gasps as he opens the notebook. It’s a sketchbook with panels for creating comics.
“I hope you’re still interested in drawing comics,” Huaisang says.
Jin Ling hugs the book to his chest. “Mama!” he yelps. “I can be a artist!”
“How wonderful!” Yanli smiles over at Huaisang. “But perhaps we could be a little quieter, my son?”
Jin Ling claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers. He opens the book. “I’m gonna make a comic about Suihua!”
“Suihua?”
“Our new cat,” Yanli supplies when it becomes apparent that Jin Ling is too absorbed with his gift. “That’s very kind of you, A-Sang. Now, I’m going to get us some more tea -- no, I insist -- and then you can tell me why you really called.”
Huaisang is almost embarrassed to be so transparent, but Yanli’s warmth settles around him like a soft blanket. He takes their lunch dishes to the counter while she orders tea and has a moment to watch fondly as Jin Ling, tongue poking out from between his teeth just like his jiujiu’s does when he concentrates, starts to sketch out the Adventures of Suihua.
Yanli pours them each a cup of fragrant jasmine tea and settles back in her chair expectantly.
“It’s so stupid,” Huaisang starts, and Yanli sets her cup down.
“Now, now, if something may seem insignificant from the outside doesn’t mean its effects are insignificant. Just tell jie what’s bothering you.” She nudges Huaisang’s teacup toward him and picks up her own when Huaisang takes his.
The warm ceramic, the innocuous white noise of cafe chatter, and the company of someone he absolutely trusts and is starting to adore all serve to calm the jangly anxious thoughts clamoring for his attention. He smiles at Yanli.
“I wanted to do something nice for A-Cheng. I know this week has been stressful for him, and I just, I wanted to do something to help him relax, to feel cozy. Homey. We haven’t been living together that long, and, I don’t know.” He sips his tea before continuing. “I got it in my head that I would make dinner for him. Except I can’t cook very well, and our cupboards are still really bare.”
“Empty cupboards?” Yanli looks appalled by the idea.
“No, no, it’s not that bad. Just, you know how long it takes to get a new place fully set up. We’ve been focused on setting up my studio space, and then, with A-Cheng gone, it hasn’t been a priority.”
Yanli still looks as though she is seconds away from packing up Jin Ling and making Huaisang take her to the apartment so she can take charge of the kitchen situation.
“I promise, it’s not that bad. That’s why this whole...brain...thing is so frustrating. We have some of your soup and dumplings in the freezer, and I got a delivery of veggies yesterday. But I wanted to make something special, and then I couldn’t think of what would really work, and there was nothing in the cabinets to inspire me, and my brain decided that this was a sign that I was a failure as a human and boyfriend and ...yeah.” Huaisang drains his teacup and refills it as Yanli processes the torrent of words and feelings Huaisang just unleashed. But before she can speak, Jin Ling pipes up.
“Cheesy hotdog noodles.”
Yanli breaks into a delighted grin. “That’s perfect!”
“What are cheesy hotdog noodles?” Huaisang asks before he can think.
Jin Ling’s impressive eye roll, clearly inherited from his jiujiu, carries more emotion that Huaisang can ever hope to match.
“Cheesy. Hotdog. Noodles,” he repeats.
Huaisang looks to Yanli for help.
“It’s the one dish our father ever cooked,” she says. “Mother hates it. She thinks it’s common.”
“And A-Cheng likes it?”
“Jiujiu loves it,” Jin Ling says. “He always makes it when I spend the night. Can I spend the night with you?”
“Not yet,” Huaisang says. “We don’t have the guest room set up yet. What’s in the noodles?”
“Cheesy—“
“I’ll help him, Ling-Ling.” Yanli breaks off a piece of chocolate muffin and gives it to her son. “It’s really very easy,” she tells Huaisang. “It’s basically four ingredients.”
Huaisang takes his phone from his bag and opens the notes app. “That sounds like something I can handle.”
“I promise, it’s impossible to get wrong.” She sips her tea before continuing. “Alright, four ingredients. You need one packet of instant noodles, preferably the kind that comes in its own bowl. Second, a pack of instant tteokbokki. Third, little sausages like Vienna sausages. You can also cut up hotdogs. Fourth, shredded cheese. We use mozzarella because it gets nice and melty.
“Cook the noodles and tteokbokki according to the package directions, although you’ll want to stop the tteokbokki about a minute before it’s fully cooked. Heat up the sausage. Put the noodles in the bowl with the tteokbokki, top with sausage and cheese, microwave it all for about a minute, until the cheese is nice and melted and —“
“Voila!” Jin Ling waves his pencil with the flourish of a symphony director.
“Voila, indeed,” Yanli says with a smile. “Dad always took us to the grocery store and let us pick out the flavors of noodles and tteokbokki that we wanted. A-Xian, of course, went for the spiciest noodles he could find. I’m partial to the cheesy tteokbokki, and A-Cheng likes a bit of pepperjack mixed in with the mozzarella instead of using super spicy noodles. Sometimes he mixes in a bit of chili oil.”
Huaisang finishes his notes and puts his phone down. “That sounds amazing, actually. Da-ge used to do something similar when we were in the mood to be fancy but our budget wouldn’t allow it. He had this small bottle of truffle oil, and he’d mix some of that with an egg into our instant noodles. Sprinkle on some black sesame seeds if we were really feeling fancy. Only fancy food had a garnish.”
“Ooh, I’ll have to try that!”
Huaisang taps the side of his teacup. “Da-ge is really god with stuff like this. Making packaged food seem like home cooking. Making a home.”
Yanli reaches across the table and takes Huaisang’s hand. “Just because something isn’t made entirely from scratch doesn’t mean it’s not homemade.” She squeezes his hand. “A-Ling, tell Huaisang what your favorite dinner is.”
Jin Ling looks up, tapping his chin with his pencil. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets, spicy cucumber salad, and bubble milk tea in that cup with the brown lid.” He turns to Yanli. “Can we have that for dinner tonight, Mama?”
“Not tonight, my son. We’re out of the nuggets. We need to go grocery shopping this weekend.”
Jin Ling heaves a weary sigh. “O-kaaaay.”
Yanli ruffles Jin Ling’s hair. “It’s not about the amount of work we put in,” she tells Huaisang. “It’s doing things with love. Even small things.” She taps Jin Ling’s sketch book. “Maybe especially the small things.”
Despite his best intentions, Huaisang is engrossed in a Forensic Files marathon when Jiang Cheng texts him.
in the cab from the airport. home in 30
Thankfully, Huaisang had prepared all the ingredients before sitting down to watch TV, so by the time Jiang Cheng drops his bags in the entryway of their apartment, Huaisang only has to start the microwave for the final, cheese-melting stage of the recipe.
Jiang Cheng sweeps him into a tight hug and kisses him, stopping only when the microwave chimes.
“I made dinner,” Huaisang says, a bit breathless.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Huaisang says, feigning exasperation.
“No! That’s not...I didn’t mean—“
Huaisang kisses Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “I know. Sit down.” He gently shoves Jiang Cheng until he’s sitting at the table, places set and drinks ready. He takes the noodle bowls carefully from the microwave, using a towel so he doesn’t burn himself, and sets one in front of Jiang Cheng and another at the place to his right.
“There are several spicy sauce options,” Huaisang says as he sits next to Jiang Cheng, “but please keep in mind any other, um, activities you might like to engage in this evening when you make … your… choice.” He trails off when he catches Jiang Cheng’s shocked expression. “What? What’s wrong? Did I mess it up?”
Jiang Cheng sniffs loudly and covers his eyes with one hand.
“A-Cheng, what’s wrong?” Huaisang drops to his knees beside Jiang Cheng and wraps an arm around his waist. “What did I do?”
“You talked to Jiejie?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice rough.
“Yes?”
Jiang Cheng draws a shuddering breath and pulls Huaisang to him. Huaisang clings to him, stroking his back until Jiang Cheng can speak.
“No one’s made this for me in a long time,” he says at last. He’s still shaking a bit. “I, it’s been a long week, and I’m tired, and I’m not, I’m feeling a lot of things,” he goes on.
“Good things?” Huaisang asks tentatively.
“Mostly,” Jiang Cheng admits, “totally, if we’re talking about you.” He kisses Huaisang’s cheek. “I really, really love you.”
Huaisang lets out a shaky breath and squeezes Jiang Cheng tightly.
“I really, really love you, too.”