Work Text:
Chicken breast sizzles as you press it down into the hot pan, the plastic spatula warm against your palm with residual heat. A light raspberry sauce bubbles and thickens on an adjacent burner, the heat set to a low simmer. In another pot, you’ve already prepared some green beans, neatly trimmed and boiled. You never thought you’d be here, preparing dinner in an expensive house while you wait for your famous actor boyfriend to come home.
You’d met in college, long before his rapid climb to fame, somehow managing to stick together throughout the chaos. Through some combination of skill and luck, Levi had managed to land a lead role in a hit show on his first try, thrusting himself into the spotlight. Immediately raising you from poor college students to a significantly more financially stable position.
Not wanting him to carry all the financial burdens, despite his fame, you still work part time even after all these years. Just a small, low stress job in the mornings. Leaving you free to maintain your shared household. Levi helps, insists on it even, but he doesn’t nearly have as much free time with the long hours required of an intense acting career. Especially one as action oriented as his own.
He cleans whenever possible and cooks whenever he has a day off. A meticulous man in all things, his dinners are always mouthwatering. Even when you cook he always insists on cleaning up afterward, hand washing and drying each of the dishes individually. It’s an even cut, you think, one that you're happy with despite the fact you’d never pictured yourself here. Playing a housewife in an expensive home in Hollywood. The layout of it is open and sophisticated; the kitchen is lined with dark marble and top of the line tech. Even though you’ve lived here for years it sometimes still feels too fancy. Especially compared to the cramped downtown apartment the two of you first shared during your broke college days.
The green beans are perfectly firm and seasoned, the raspberry sauce thickened to a nice gel. You're checking the cook on the chicken breasts when your ears prick at the sound of the garage door. It’s the only sign of Levi’s return, the electric car he insisted on purchasing producing too quiet of a hum from this distance.
The cook on the chicken breast is perfect, you think, the sides a dark brown with a slight char. Turning off the burner, you move to plate the dish with the slide of your spatula. The chicken breast is placed neatly onto the white plate, drizzled with red raspberry sauce and flanked with green beans. This dish is a favorite of Levi’s, nice and simple yet flavorful. Hearing the door to the garage open, you call to greet him over your shoulder.
“Welcome home, Love! Perfect timing, dinners just ready.”
You're startled to hear him hiss in reply as he shuffles to remove his shoes at the entryway. The sound is worrying, painful. “Hi sweetheart.” He’s not a very vocal man, but he always puts in an effort to match your energy and greet you in turn. It’s something he’s learned to do with familiarity and time.
The sound of his hiss makes you turn, spatula still in hand, to eye him as he pads through the living room and towards the kitchen. He’s walking stiff, left leg swinging without bending as his socked feet hit the floor in an uneven gate. He’s limping.
Slamming the spatula to the counter without care, you quickly cross the distance to meet him in the living room. “Are you okay? What happened?” Your voice cracks in your worry.
You grasp his shoulder and wheel him towards the soft white sofa in the center of the room. He hisses again at the motion, still stiff as you urge him to sit down. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“You’re limping and I just heard you hiss in pain.” He grunts in response, hissing again as you force him to sit down on the white cushion.
“I’ve never seen you injured before? Did this happen on set?” He hums in response, grimacing slightly as he raises and flexes his knee as if to test it. He’s leaning back against the random collection of pillows you have scattered along the couch, something you’ve rarely seen him do. That in and of itself is concerning. He normally sits up, his back always straight with perfect posture.
“I just got distracted during a stunt. Clipped my knee against a building.” He’s glaring at the offending knee as he says the words.
“Distracted? During a stunt? You, Levi?” He’s known for doing all of his own stunts and executing them to perfection. It’s unheard of that he would make even the smallest mistake.
“I had something on my mind. It’s fine anyways, I had worse injuries than this back in the days when I was living on the streets.” He doesn’t talk about those days often, but you know that they were quite rough.
“You're not fine. Did you even report this?” There’s suddenly a very telling guilty look in his eyes. “Levi. You have to report this tomorrow.”
He hums in response, once again glaring at his knee as he tries to twist it despite its stiffness. “It wasn’t this bad before. I must have stiffened up on the car ride home.”
Lowering yourself to one knee, you tug up his pant leg as far as you can, the material of his slacks scratchy against your fingers. He raises a hand to rest on your shoulder, you feel him watching your actions as you tug the material above his knee. It’s a large splotch of deep purple spread along the entirety of his kneecap. He flinches slightly as you press your hand to the warm skin there.
“Are you sure nothings broken? This looks bad.” You don’t like the color of it, and you know knee wounds can be tricky. You glide your fingers carefully along the darkened skin, as if somehow your motions will smooth the wound away.
“I’ve broken bones before. It doesn’t feel broken. Plus, I don’t want to be out of work because of this.” He looks vaguely upset at the thought.
“I think you might have to take a bit of a break from stunts at least, love.” Your words earn a sharp klick of his tongue as he glares down at his knee once again.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab you some pain meds and an ice pack.” You pat his shoulder as you rise, the motion a signal that he should stay reclined along the couch cushions.
You pad across the carpet, your bare feet briefly slapping against the cool tile of the kitchen as you cross towards the hallway leading to the bedroom.
Entering the dark room, you flick on the bathroom light to peruse the contents of the medicine cabinet. Deciding on a heavy duty pain med, the contents of the bottle rattle as you pluck up the container. Returning the room to darkness, you quickly sprint back to the main room.
Levi’s moved, because of course he has. The man can never just sit down and relax. The dinner you’d carefully prepared onto two plates has now been placed on either side of the hard wood dining room table. The white plates are even flanked with glasses of water and silverware. You can hear Levi hiss as he slowly slides down to sit at the table.
“Levi.” You say his name in a chastising tone as you slam the pill bottle next to his glass of water. It rattles with the impact, the sound drawing his eyes to the bottle. He only shrugs in response to your tone, choosing to remain silent.
He quickly untwists the cap and shakes free a couple of pills, gulping them down in one quick swallow. It’s surprising, it’s normally a lot harder to convince him to take medicine. He usually prefers to suffer through colds and the like, stubborn as can be. He must be in a lot of pain.
“I don’t want your hard work to go to waste. It’s already getting cold.” It’s a sweet thought, but you could care less about dinner now.
You quickly cross back into the kitchen, bare feet against cold tile once again. Sliding open the freezer, you scoop up an ice pack. It’s for a lunch box, one you only occasionally pack for work. It’ll work for now, though. Wrapping it in a fresh washcloth, you cross back into the carpet of the living room.
Levi startles, hissing slightly as you press the cold material to his still bare knee. He’d kept the fabric of his pant leg tucked up, perhaps with this in mind. He raises his left hand to hold the compress against his knee.
“Good boy.” His ears pink a bit at your taunt, and he clicks his tongue in response.
“Sit, your food is getting cold.” It’s probably still salvageable at this point. You hope so at least. You take your own seat across from him, the hard wood of the chair stiff against your back. He always waits for you to eat, whether out of courtesy or deference you've never been sure.
The green beans are lukewarm at best, but still edible. The chicken and raspberry sauce is still quite warm and delicious as always. He hums in satisfaction as he takes the first bite. The meal is quiet, comfortable. The silence is only broken by the metallic scrape of silverware against the ceramic plate and the occasional hum of enjoyment. There’s never been much of a need to fill the air with words between the two of you.
You keep an eye on him as you finish your chicken, watching his eyes start to look heavy. He’s eating slower than usual, he normally finishes way before you. The pain medicine must be making him drowsy, coupled with the exhaustion from the busy day.
“That was delicious. Thank you for making my favorite.” He finally finishes his chicken several minutes after you’ve finished your own.
“Of course.” Before you can say anything else, Levi rises with a hiss, placing the ice pack onto the wooden table with a soft clunk. You stop him as he attempts to gather the dirty dishware, knowing full well that he intends to clean up like usual.
“Go lay in bed. Relax. You look awfully tired from the pain meds. I’ll clean up and join you in a bit, love.” He surprises you once again by not protesting. His shoulders slump heavy as he sighs loudly, eyes still heavy lidded. Grasping the ice pack once again, you watch as he lumbers into the hallway towards the bedroom. It’s odd to hear him with such a heavy gate, he’s normally so light and nimble on his feet.
The dishes clack against each other as you gather the dirty utensils, balancing them carefully in your grasp as you cross into the kitchen. The water is burning hot against your palms as you clean, mind wandering back to your boyfriends condition. What had him so distracted, you wonder. It’s unlike him to have such a wandering mind, especially when he’s set on a task. Turning off the water, you wipe down the dishware with a fresh hand towel. You’re sure Levi will be unhappy with the clean job, there’s a reason he insists on doing it himself. Besides his need to contribute and be helpful to the household, that is. Though he may not be composed enough in the morning to care.
Placing the plates and silverware in their respective homes in the cabinets, the freshly washed pots and pans follow to hang in the pot rack above your head. Washcloth in hand, you move back to the dining room table to quickly wipe down the hard wood. It’s something you’ve watched Levi do after meals a thousand times. You make sure to grab the abandoned pill bottle once you're done, he will probably need it again come morning.
Entering the bedroom, you find the main overhead light is still off. The room is only illuminated with the soft glow of the lamp on Levi’s bedside table. He’s already underneath the sheets, his day clothes folded and placed in the hamper along the far wall. Even through the blankets, you can see that Levi is still holding the ice pack to his bruised knee. His eyes are closed, but you can tell he’s not asleep yet by his breathing pattern. You come up to his side to place the pill bottle by the lamp with a light rattle. His head turns at your approach, eyes still heavy lidded as he watches your face.
“How are you feeling?” Levi’s always struggled to sleep the whole night through, but he looks about ready to pass out.
“It still hurts. ‘M exhausted.” There’s a very telling slur to his words. His face seems very open, almost limp in his drugged state.
“You know if it’s any worse in the morning we’ll have to go to the hospital, right?” He huffs in response, waving his hand in an almost loopy gesture.
He calls your name, heavy eyes meeting your own. “Come here. Wanna cuddle.” Now that’s unheard of, maybe the pain meds were a bit too strong. He’s always been inclined towards cuddling, but to say such a thing out loud?
You pad over to your side of the bed, lifting the covers and joining him on the mattress. You're already in your pajamas, having swapped them out for your work clothes as soon as you’d gotten home. He lifts a hand, taking several attempts to pull the cord and turn off the lamp. The sight of him so out of sorts makes you giggle.
“Shut up.” You’d bet money that his ears are red, but you can’t tell in the darkness. You feel the mattress shift beneath him as he carefully slides to press his head to your breast. His good leg tangles with your own, an arm sweeping across your chest to pull you close. You wrap an arm across his back to cup the back of his head, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. He kisses the soft skin above your breast in response.
Scratching your nails into his hair, he hums in response, suddenly heavy and limp against you. He’s not going to be awake for long, you think.
“Why were you distracted?” You can’t help the question. It’s so unlike him, this whole evening has you concerned.
“Mhmm.. was thinking.” You can feel the vibration of his words against your sternum. He’s speaking slowly and softly in his lassitude.
“Oh…? Thinking about what?” You feel him sigh and nuzzle his nose into your chest.
“Wanna’ take you on a trip. To Japan.” That’s surprising. You haven’t thought about going to Japan in years. It's always been your dream to go there one day.
“Japan?” You try to match his tone, speaking softly so as not to startle him from his drowsy stupor.
“Used to mention it a lot. Back in college.” He sounds like he’s talking in his sleep. It’s sweet that he remembers your odd rambles from years and years ago. You haven’t thought much about Japan since the beginning of his wild rise to fame. Years have passed since then, and it’s just been way too busy.
“Wanna’ propose….” The words send you into a wild high dive, your heart racing in your ears. Your stomach is suddenly full of butterflies. Your eyes start to water in your exhilaration.
“L..levi?” He can’t be aware of what he’s saying right now. You feel sort of bad for being so excited.
There’s no response, the man is finally out like a light. His head is heavy against your chest, breathing soft warm breaths against your sternum.
Levi wants to propose to you. On a dream trip to Japan. Your heart is still beating loud in your ears and it takes all your willpower to resist kicking excitedly against the mattress. You can already imagine him on one knee, cherry blossoms fluttering behind his head. Or perhaps it’ll be at night, during a festival, with fireworks lighting up the night sky.
He’d been thinking about it often apparently. Frequently enough for it to distract him during work, at least. You feel sort of bad for making him blurt it out, almost like you’ve tricked him. Hopefully he doesn’t remember what he said come morning. It can be your little secret.
This makes the thought of his injury bitter sweet. Sad that it happened, but happy about the cause. It’s an odd feeling. Smoothing the pads of your fingers along his soft hair, you think that you're going to be the one to get little sleep for a change. Not with your heart still beating excitedly in your throat. Your mind is racing, imagining all of the possibilities. You can’t help but wonder how long this has been on his mind. If he’s already purchased a ring.
Hopefully his knee is better in the morning and you don’t need to take a trip to the hospital. That way he can follow through with his ‘surprise’ soon. You can’t wait now that you know. It’s sort of a shock, the two of you have been together for years and years. You’ve always been happy as is, marriage wasn’t a necessity. You’ve never really talked about it. It just didn’t seem necessary to further the commitment between you. A sheet of paper nothing more, you weren’t sure if those were your words or his.
But he’s been thinking about it. He wants you as his wife. You feel your face warm even further at the thought. You squeeze Levi further into your embrace, so happy you feel like you're vibrating. He mumbles sleepily in response, the sound warming your heart. Closing your eyes, you nuzzle your cheek against the top of his head. His hair is soft under the press of your lips.
You're still unhappy that he got injured, the memory of him limping across the living room brings a bitter taste to your mouth. But for every low there’s a high, and this evening has left you happier than ever.