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The habit of late-night meetings in the kitchen had been installed for a few years now but still, Qifrey has no idea how he ended up sitting at their kitchen table, watching the man he is going to spend his life with making cocktail in see through nightwear while dancing.
For the past few weeks, Oruggio had been working relentlessly on a new project and hence had spent most of his time secluded in his atelier or out on work-related travels, leaving Qifrey to himself in the evenings.
He’d learned that Oruggio was done with work this morning, however he needed to take the students to Karoon to refill on their supplies, making this is their first real interaction since, a while.
When Qifrey had first entered their kitchen, he was caught off guard by an obviously already alcoholised Oruggio capturing his arm to drag him to the nearest seat and vaguely whispered him to “wait”. He obliged.
This was something like ten minutes ago, ten minutes of watching his childhood best friend’s torso move under the translucid fabric of the shirt he hadn’t even bothered to fasten. Qifrey, despite being quite familiar with Oruggio’s torso, for various reasons, was not able to look away.
He doesn’t want to look away, he doesn’t want to think about anything but the domestic bliss he’s in, he doesn’t know when or if these will ever happen again, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to protect them. He feels the customary regret and sorrow stir inside him once more, consequently, he seeks his friend’s familiar warmth.
“ ‘missed you, Oru”
Oruggio, who was co-ordinately still dancing while squeezing lime paused his endeavours to look over his shoulder, where he caught sight of a vulnerable looking Qifrey: top of his robe off, neck straps undone, and glasses sitting idly on the table. Bearing a pained look.
“I missed you too, Qifrey” voice soft. He did miss him.
Oruggio’s words alleviate his worries, they always do.
He goes to speak again, to continue the conversation (he did miss his companion after all), but Oruggio cuts the newfound silence first.
“Daiquiri”
He watches as Oruggio eventually stops his dancing to pick up the glasses he’s been handling for the past minutes. He watches when he turns around, glasses in hands. He’s still watching when Oruggio furthers his statement.
“Rum, lime juice and a drop of syrup”
Qifrey hums in acknowledgment.
“ ‘wanted to train to make sure they’re good. Ended up drinking them.”
At that Qifrey chuckles. “Sounds like something you’d do yea’ “
Oruggio sends a weak glare his way but sets the white beverage in front of him nonetheless.
“Drink up” he says before retreating a few steps to rest his hip against the counter and get a better view of the other man.
Qifrey takes a first tentative sip under his friend’s watchful eye, not that he’ll ever mind being under Oruggio’s scrutiny.
His mouth feels both sour and sweet but what strikes him most is the warmth. Beginning in his mouth, going down his throat, to finish in his stomach. He looks up, naturally finding Oruggio’s eyes and it’s like he downed the entire drink in one go.
Except this time the warmth isn’t intermittently following a liquid flowing down his body, it’s everywhere. It flows throughout him at a steady pace, warming body and soul all the same. Its intensity is also much more potent yet still never burning or dolorous in any way.
Additionally, he feels a whirling sensation that alcohol’s dizziness could never even come close too. And while both gently settle deep in his stomach, he comes to the conclusion that Oruggio is better than any kind of alcohol.
Still under his friend’s gaze, he takes a second sip. However, this time around he can barely feel the drink next to the second wave of Oruggio induced feelings. To some extent, he thinks, the warmth and comfort he feels could be compared to Tetia’s sand clouds.
Yet it’s nowhere near that.
Qifrey’s experienced all types of magic in his life, from vile forbidden one to the kindest of spells, and never did any of it make him feel the way Oruggio does.
There he concludes that Oruggio is better than magic too, also that maybe he might be getting a little tipsy. (He did actually finish his glass while having his thoughts).
“So how is it?” interrupts his inner monologuing.
“Delicious” he doesn’t remember.
Oruggio’s weight shifts as he stands back straight, forward walking up the couple of steps separating him from the table Qifrey’s sitting at. He takes a last sip of his cup, pushing it away on the table before bending down, using both of his hands to support himself. He attempts another hard look at Qifrey which alcohol has him fail.
“Why did you lie”
Qifrey’s face softens, and he allows himself a smile before replying: “I’m sorry I was lost in thoughts, you could make it again I’d gladly drink it, and pay attention to its taste. ”
Oruggio blinked lazily at him a couple of time, looking mildly agitated before motioning forward and capturing Qifrey’s face in his hands. This isn’t an action that would usually phase Qifrey but after weeks apart he’s now the one left feeling agitated.
The look Oruggio gives him is one of sheer tenderness and the thumbs gently stroking his cheeks only further prove it. Not that Qifrey could have ever doubted it.
“I really did miss you”
He only is able to hear it because of the extreme proximity of their faces. And he’s not even sure he didn’t hallucinate it seeing his friend’s mouth barely moved. Still, he lifts his hand to Oruggio’s face, caressing the skin through the prominent stubble.
“Me too, I really missed you too”
He doesn’t intend to whisper it so low, but the look in Oruggio’s eyes tells him he heard it.
Oruggio takes his hand off his companion’s face to put them around his neck and let his arms drag down his shoulders to intertwine them in a sloppy clasp. Qifrey initially thinks he’s fallen asleep, but the groan behind his ear tells him otherwise.
“However, I would like for you to prepare me the cocktails tomorrow, like my housewife” The last words are stressed by Oruggio nuzzling into his neck.
Qifrey stills, unsure if this is really is just a drunken joke. Nevertheless, he hisses:
“Your housewife ? Oru I’m your husband” Oruggio is dead asleep on his shoulder.
And so, their evening was cut short.
And Qifrey did make the cocktails the day after.