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“Klavier.”
“Mm.”
“What are you cooking at...” Apollo squinted, blinked, rubbed an eye at the stove clock. “...Three in the morning?”
“Schinkennudeln.”
Apollo stared at Klavier’s back, trying to contort the syllables into something coherent. After a long moment, Apollo decided Klavier was either speaking German or he was too tired for this shit. He leaned against the granite counter and rubbed his eyes again. “...Okay.”
Klavier didn’t respond, leaving the boiling water and sizzling grease to fill the quiet. Apollo, still half asleep, watched the sway of his boyfriend’s low ponytail and wondered if those pj bottoms were his.
Okay, his brain told his dumb meat suit, This isn’t normal.
First of all, Klavier was cooking. Not rare, but unusual. A once-a-week thing at most.
Second, he was cooking at three AM. They’d only passed out a mere four hours ago after a thrilling conclusion to their two-day LotR marathon.
Third, he was cooking a German (?) dish that Apollo had never heard of, and Klavier’s movements were less of a sluggish lethargy and more of an 'I-need-control-of-my-life' jerky.
Apollo took a deep breath and let out a long, silent sigh. He pushed himself off the counter and grabbed a glass. As he filled it with tap water he asked, “So, what is... Schnick noodles?”
“Good try, baby. Nein, it’s Schinkennudeln.” Klavier gave him a grin, strained at the edges. Apollo smiled back, and Klavier’s melted into something more genuine. “Ham, eggs, and noodles. Very simple.”
Apollo sat on the counter near the stove, cradling his water in both hands as Klavier poked at half-cooked ham. His hands were shaking—not enough to compromise his meal, but enough to be noticed. Apollo took a long drink of water before replying, “Sounds good.”
“Ja. It’s comfort food. I haven’t made it in a while.” Klavier’s face fell as he said, “Apologies for waking you, Sonnenblume. I was trying to be quiet.”
Apollo yawned into his elbow, waving off the concern. “I woke up because Mekiko decided to make aggressive biscuits on my stomach. Not your fault, Klav.”
“Ah, she is a feisty baker when she wishes to be,” Klavier chuckled and poked at the pot of pasta next. Apollo’s laughter filled the kitchen as Klavier failed to wrangle the pasta onto a spoon, both of them giggling until Klavier fished out a Rotini or two. He popped one in his mouth and Apollo snuck one off the spoon.
“Shit, that’s hot.” Apollo tried to breathe on the pasta while it was still in his mouth, almost laughing again.
Klavier’s shoulders shook as he tried to do the same. “It was just cooking.”
“Oh my god.” Apollo chugged his water as soon as he managed to swallow the soft, spiraled inferno. “Good consistency, though.”
“Mm. Can you hand me the colander?”
Apollo passed it over and examined Klavier as he drained the noodles. “So, why’d you decide to make this now? Since it’s been a while.”
Klavier chuckled, “Someone's curious tonight. It was a whim, and I couldn’t sleep.”
Gotcha. Klavier’s thumb rubbed at a piece of skin on his middle finger that was usually covered by a signet ring. Apollo opened his mouth and closed it just as fast. Pressing people at the best of times was a delicate balance, and Klavier was already on edge. Apollo knew he’d explain when he was ready. He had to trust that. “Just... wondering. What’s next?”
Once Klavier realized that no, Apollo was not going back to bed, he was recruited to help with the sauce.
“Wait, eggs in the sauce?” Apollo asked as Klavier mixed the concoction they had created in their last clean bowl—technically for popcorn, but they’d get over it. “We’re not eating raw eggs, right?”
“No, we are not Sonnenblume. Once this is mixed we will pour it in the pan and it will cook the egg.”
“That’s not a sauce. That's a solid.”
“Objection,” and a weak one, at that, “I have always seen it referred to as a sauce, and can a sauce not be solid?”
That dialogue de sourds took up a good five minutes while Klavier spiced up the "sauce" and Apollo preached its definition. By the time their debate died down, they were garnishing two paper plates with parsley.
Klavier leaned his head on top of Apollo’s while they ate perched on the counter. He hummed his satisfaction, and Apollo was reminded of when Mekiko got affectionate. Apollo cuddled closer and said, “This is pretty good. Needs more spice, though.”
“Ah, you’re right. This is how Kr... My family used to make it when I was young and had sensitive taste buds.”
Ah.
All the pieces fell into place. It was around the anniversary of when they convicted him, wasn’t it? Apollo placed a peck onto Klavier’s shoulder. “Sorry. It’s still good, Klav.”
“Ja, I know. Next time when I am nostalgic I’ll add more flavor.” Klavier pressed a gentle kiss to Apollo’s head in return. “Thank you, Apollo.”
“I don’t know why you’re thanking me, you’re the one who cooked. But... any time, Klav. Love you.”
“Love you too. Now let’s head to bed and hate ourselves for not doing dishes in the morning.”
“Sounds good to me.”