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He was busy sending a text to Jian Yi when he heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft “fuck”.
They were making stew, well, mainly him, but Tian was becoming a little more proficient with a knife and could chop the onions and carrots. He did the harder parts of braising the beef and pouring in the merlot to help break down the protein, though he couldn’t refute the respect he had for He Tian in his attempts to learn.
Guan Shan sighed, leaving his phone on the couch as he walked towards the kitchen to investigate the sour sounding “fuck” that had left Tian’s mouth.
“What did you do now? The carrots not all the same size?”
He Tian’s back straightened and he hunched over, trying to hide.
Mo rolled his eyes, stepping closer to peer over the other’s shoulder.
The knife he was using had a little blood on it, and he was clutching his left hand with the other. The amount of blood on the cutting board was more of a worry.
“Shit, c’mere let's wash it out first,” he said, hastily grabbing a cloth to gently wrap the cut on Tian’s left hand.
He quickly moved to flick on the tap, then slowly walked Tian over to the sink, pulling his hands underneath the stream. He idly watched as the blood washed away pink as it swirled down the sink. Cooking injuries were nothing new to him, but he’d become experienced long ago on how to use a knife.
Tian had been oddly silent through the whole ordeal and he snuck a glance at his face.
Guan Shan felt his face heat up in response, “Fuck, what’s that look for?”
He Tian was staring intently at him, a slight blush high on his cheeks—seeping into his ears. He looked rather dazed, though not from the cut.
“I—sorry, I just forget how gentle your hands are sometimes…”
Forgoing responding, Mo instead turned away to grab another one of the clean dishtowels lying around and wrapped it around Tian’s finger, his hands touching lingering longer than really needed.
He swallowed, pointing to the couch. “Go sit. I’ll get you a bandaid.”
Tian obeyed, a tiny smile on his face as he sat down.
Guan Shan retreated to the bathroom, rolling his shoulders.
Fuck. He’d never seen a look like that on He Tian’s face before, it made his blood pressure rise.
The question was, what would it take for Tian to make the same face again?