Work Text:
This has been done before... This is too dangerous... Boring... Useless...
Oruggio, quite frankly, has had enough of this. The deadline is just around the corner and his creativity is buried deep underground, his mind too preoccupied with a certain witch. He can’t really come up with a contraption for a stranger when someone he loves needs help.
Although he’s been busy, he’s had more than a chance to notice that Qifrey has been drastically neglecting his health and sulking over something unknown to the watchful eye. Not that this pattern is new to him, but it still hurts to see every time. Qifrey spacing out, forgetting to eat, and walking around the atelier with a demeanor and expression that Oruggio can’t help but associate with the torment of his apprentice days, thus setting off multiple alarms in his head.
So instead of creating new contraptions, Oruggio can only ruminate on it and beat himself up for being a careless watchful eye, best friend and lover.
“Ugh... whatever,” he laments, standing up and putting his belt back on.
When he opens the door to the outside, he realizes he has spent too much time in his semi dark study; he almost forgot how nice the weather is.
He takes a breath, finally inhaling pure air, hearing the birds chirp, and watching the beautiful scenery that surrounds the atelier. Inevitably, his eyes search for Qifrey, who’s sitting in front of the main door, checking the girls’ exercises. He’s not wearing his cloak, but the sleeves of his gown are still in place, and for some reason Oruggio’s heart swells in his chest when the witch stretches his arms and looks up, seemingly at ease.
“You’re out earlier than I expected.” Qifrey smiles sincerely, even though Oruggio can sense a veil of secrecy hidden behind the gesture.
The watchful eye huffs and sits on the ground in response, back against the side of the chair. A few seconds later, he feels Qifrey’s slim fingers gently fix his hair, which was most likely a mess that he didn’t bother checking. His eyelids flutter and his lips naturally curl into a smile. He can’t fathom how he was so close to pulling his hair out inside his study when this blissful welcome was just a few steps away. The gesture lasts only a few seconds but it’s enough to set Oruggio’s mind.
“I’m taking the day off.” He decides, incapable of returning to work. As he speaks, four girls appear running towards them with baskets in their hands.
They’ve gathered herbs from Qifrey’s vegetable garden, and Oruggio’s nose is immediately drawn to a particular scent that makes his lips curl in a smile.
He finally, finally got an idea. It has nothing to do with his work, but at least it’s an idea.
So he quickly excuses himself and shouts an “I’ll be right back!” over his shoulders when he hears Qifrey call after him.
It doesn’t take long to fly to the nearest grove of trees and pick up pine cones for the task. He realizes he doesn’t have a bag so he holds the hems of his cloak and wraps them up, smiling. He hopes he chose good ones.
He’ll just have to use magic to speed up the drying process, but it’s nothing if it means making Qifrey just a little bit happier.
As he flies back home, his thoughts go back to the first time he cooked for Qifrey, almost a decade ago. It was a simple stew that he was trying out as a beginner in the subject, and he doesn’t really remember what ingredients he used at the time, but he remembers Qifrey’s shaky smile as Oruggio blew on the broth and carefully fed him a spoonful of it, and the radiant look in his eye as he ate the whole dish later on. There is a high probability that the stew wasn’t even that good, but it was enough for Qifrey to plant the quickest peck on Oruggio’s cheek with gratitude. And after that, he found all the excuses he could to cook for his best friend again, and the reaction had always been pretty similar to the first time.
But in the past few weeks, he has only been able to help out in the kitchen and never had a chance to prepare something on his own from scratch. So he is going to replicate a recipe he wrote down years ago on a piece of paper and never got around to make.
After he lands on the atelier’s grounds, he avoids the main door and goes back to his study. He begins by using heating magic to imitate a sun-drying process, until the scales of the cones spread and he can take the in-shell pine nuts out. He uses a breaker glyph to crush the shells and finally gets to the edible seeds.
He sighs in contentment, his mind finally at ease for being able to do something. He stands up and walks out, heading for the kitchen and ignoring the mess he’s leaving on the floor.
When he opens the door, the first thing that hits him is the unique scent of fresh basil, and the next is Qifrey’s magic washing the leaves.
“You’re back!” he tells Oruggio with a grin that brings out wrinkles at the corner of his eye. The basil leaves are floating in water circles above the glyph on Qifrey’s hand. “I decided to make Pesto sauce. You know the recipe you put in our cookbook that one time? Oh and I’m going to show the girls how pine n- wait, are those pine nuts?”
Oruggio looks at the handful of seeds in his palm, sighing. He lets out a sound in between a chuckle and a groan. “Yeah...” You’re always ahead of me, aren’t you? He thinks.
Qifrey walks up to him and cups his hand, gently bringing it closer to his face and scanning the nuts. He looks at him eventually. “Oh, you ... Is this why you flew away earlier? We could have gone together! I wanted to show the girls how to extract them from the cones too...”
There goes his plan to surprise him. “I just saw the basil earlier and thought I could prepare something for everyone, but you beat me to it,” he simply says, fetching a cup for the nuts.
He feels a speck of disappointment in his chest, to be honest with himself. Maybe it’s a bit greedy of him, to want exclusivity on Qifrey’s gratefulness. It can’t be helped, really, because whenever Oruggio’s acts of care and affection are accepted, he feels his love being accepted with them. Even if it’s making a stew, helping him put his cape on, or drying silver hair when he accidentally gets wet. The agonizing, ever-so present hint of “I love you but why do you love me back?” in Qifrey’s look becomes for a few moments a perfect “thank you for loving me” gaze that Oruggio holds dearer than his own life.
Well, he’ll give up on it for today. “I have a few more pine cones in my study, I’ll grab them and call the girls here then,” he says, reaching for the doorknob.
“Oru wait.” Qifrey grabs his hand and pulls him back into the kitchen. Oruggio finds himself almost pressed against the witch’s chest the next second. “It’s fine, we can show them another day and just prepare today’s dinner without them, they looked busy anyway...” There’s something in his eye that Oruggio cannot really figure out yet.
“If you say so, I guess we can do that,” he smiles, sincerely. Even though they cooperate often in the kitchen, it feels different this time, as if there were words hanging between them that aren’t necessarily a secret but which they’re still keeping to themselves.
So Qifrey washes the pine nuts carefully and Oruggio dries them one last time, standing side by side.
He looks up at Qifrey and takes two of the seeds to feed him. They’re so small that his fingertips inevitably touch the witch’s lips, and then Oruggio can’t tell who between them is letting the contact linger for an extra second, maybe both.
“Hmm, they taste great,” Qifrey confirms, munching. “It’s incredible how these small, simple things will change the final result, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it really is.” Oruggio doesn’t know if he means the pine nuts or something else. Perhaps it was the feeling of Qifrey’s lips on his skin that just emptied his brain of everything but the witch in front of him. So Oruggio just stares at him, retaining for the nth time how... mesmerizing he looks. Not just the beautiful silver hair and pretty blue eye and nice lips, he just seems so serene and comfortable, like he should always be.
“What?” Qifrey asks him. Oruggio has probably been wearing an odd expression.
“Nothing. Just...” He doesn’t really think it over, just puts the cup of pine nuts down and gives him a kiss, though very small and limited in comparison to how many he’d like to offer.
Qifrey, surprised but nonetheless pleased, blinks back at him and grabs the laces hanging from Oruggio’s leaves, a habit he loves very dearly. “Oru... What’s up with you today?” He probably notices the confused look on the dark-haired witch, and adds, “As much as I love that you’re doing it, you rarely take time off when you have deadlines. I was just wondering if there’s something wrong...”
And it’s true, Qifrey knows him way too well. Oruggio burns himself out as much as he burns with his magic and never spares time for himself outside those short moments in the morning and evening. “Nothing’s wrong with me...” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through Qifrey’s hair this time, combing it back behind his ears. “I can tell you’ve been worrying about something the past few days and even though I don’t know what it is yet, I wanted to do something to make you feel better,” he admits, leaning on the edge of the table. It might be unsettling at times, but he’s learned to wait for him to open up.
Qifrey’s eyebrows rise for a moment and then there’s a giggle. Oruggio frowns, confused. “You’re seriously hopeless, you know? I planned today’s dinner in the hope that it would cheer you up since you’ve been stressing so much, but of course you’d just put others before yourself...”
“You’re the last person who can scold me for something like that.” He rolls his eyes. Albeit troubled by those mysteries that he won’t reveal easily, Qifrey still chose to think of and care for Oruggio. He always chooses Oruggio first, and he can’t really blame him, for he’s always done the same.
“Well,” Qifrey begins, pulling him by the laces. “I’m glad I’m not preparing this on my own.”
And then Oruggio gets a kiss.
It’s nothing like the hurried peck of that first time he cooked for him. It’s a bit slower and comfortable, and he sinks into it so easily he forgets about anything else again.
“This is better,” Qifrey whispers, and he’s on Oruggio’s lips again.
The feeling of being kissed by him like this is something he wouldn’t be able to describe if he were asked to. It’s something deeper than adoration itself. That’s almost too simple. It’s an ‘I love you’ , a ‘thank you’ , a ‘sorry’ and some kind of promise together in one single kiss.
When they pull back, Oruggio can’t help caressing his face and smiling. Whatever he’s apologizing for, Oruggio is willing to forgive; whichever the promise, he believes it will be kept.
“Our girls will never eat if you keep looking at me like that,” Qifrey tells him, holding his wrists but hesitating to move the hands away from his cheek and neck.
Oruggio sighs, reluctantly agreeing. “We still have some steps left...”
“There’s the dough to knead and the garlic to peel...”
And so they return to their tasks, not missing a chance to steal some contact, Qifrey brushing his dark hair with the excuse that it hinders his vision, and Oruggio stroking his back after neatening his sleeve.
Qifrey takes care of the dough for the pasta and Oruggio peels the garlic. He watches as the silver-haired witch creates long, thin, flat stripes from the dough.
Then it’s his turn to be stared at. The procedure for the Pesto sauce is quick and simple, but it takes a small mistake for the basil to change color and become bitter.
He takes the marble mortar Alaira gifted them once because “you guys are like housewives and every housewife needs one.” He’s still not sure if it was a joke. He presses a bit of garlic and salt first, then adds the basil. When the extract comes out, he adds the pine nuts with a smile, crushing everything together. Bit by bit, he adds the olive oil and the mix of cheese.
Qifrey noses at the sauce with a pleased smile.
“Will Riche like this? She always makes a face at green dishes,” Oruggio asks, reaching for a spoon. He just scoops a pinch of it and feeds it to Qifrey.
The other witch’s eye grows bigger and brighter in delight, eyebrow disappearing under his hair. He lets out a “ mmm!” and shakes his head. “For some reason she never dislikes the things you make. Even your cooking is amiable.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Oruggio replies, rolling his eyes. Qifrey tells him things like that so often and so spontaneously, but he still wonders if they’re really true. “Let’s just put everything together, it’s almost dinner time.”
Boiling the water is a matter of seconds for them thanks to their magic, and while the pasta cooks, Qifrey goes to call for the girls.
Oruggio smiles as he drains the water; days like this always make him feel like a married person. It doesn’t matter if it’s never been made official for others, does it? Qifrey has called him ‘husband’ many times before anyway. Teasing with a “oh, isn’t my husband so brilliant?” or scolding him with an “as your husband, I can’t let you drink that or you’ll pass out!” , almost like he’s testing the waters, as if Oruggio wouldn’t like it.
“They’ll be here in a minute!” Qifrey says, stepping back in. “What are you smiling at?”
Oruggio probably looks embarrasing, standing near the table as he mixes the sauce and the pasta with that stupid smile still printed on his face. Qifrey, on the other hand, looks wonderful; perfect even. “You,” he says, not elaborating nor giving his husband the time to question it as he reaches for a quick kiss.
Qifrey looks even more surprised than earlier, but the girls march in and start making wah! and ooh! sounds so he’s forced to leave it for later.
Oruggio might be a humble witch, but he has to agree with the apprentices when they claim the dish is delicious. Even Riche.
And Qifrey… well, it’s his turn with the embarrassing and stupid smile. He pauses for a few times to explain to his students how pine nuts are extracted and promises to show them one day, but for the most part he just wears that face of pure contentment, the one from Oruggio’s first stew.
So it’s only natural that when the table is empty of everything, when the dishes are clean and the kids have turned off the lights, and after Qifrey closes the magic history chapter he read for them, Oruggio gets kissed. One or maybe ten times, Qifrey presses his lips on his, ignoring the brushbug roaming around the scraps of paper at the feet of their couch.
The silent “thank you for loving me” resonates in his heart.
“You seem happy,” Oruggio notes after a while, toying with the black straps around his neck. He sees Qifrey’s eyelashes flicker.
“I am. Thanks to you,” he confesses, again fixing strands of dark hair as if he wasn’t the one who messed them up in the first place. “But you should stop worrying about me when you have so much work to do. I’m fine.”
A part of Oruggio wants to scold him, call him stupid for the stupid things he says, but he doesn’t. “As your husband, I just can’t help it,” he teases.
Qifrey’s hands stop in midair, flustered. He blushes vividly and can’t even blame it on the wine they didn’t drink.
Oruggio chuckles and brushes his thumbs against the red cheeks, fingers rubbing even underneath the round lenses of his glasses, touching eyelashes on one side and scarred skin on the other.
And then they’re ready to return to each other’s lips, eagerly but gently. For the first time in weeks, their minds are free of any concern.
Sweet… This is all I want… Oh, I love you...
Oruggio, quite frankly, will never have enough of this. As long as they can share these days, these moments, he’ll be able to face whatever comes their way.