Work Text:
The autumn chill had set in fast and brisk, as the late summer warmth bled out through the final days of September, the showers of rain swiftly followed, soaking the still verdant leaves clinging to the branches before their final metamorphosis.
The kitchen was tinged gold by the light of the setting sun piercing through the windows, bathing Mingjue’s lover in its topaz hued glow, making his warm brown eyes glow amber in the early evening light. A light flush decorated his delicate cheekbones, tickling at his nose. Ahead of him, Xichen shifted on the couch, biting back a shiver as he hugged his blue sweater tighter around his frame.
A smile tugged at the corners of Mingjue's lips. No matter how much he shivered and sniffled, Xichen would never admit how cold he was. Mingjue watched in amusement as his husband tugged the knitted sleeves over his pale fingers, blowing into the bundle of blue wool to warm his hands.
“Cold?” Mingjue teased as he tucked his freshly sharpened knives back into its roll, the polished handle settling smoothly into the leather pocket.
“I don’t get cold, you know that.” Xichen murmured, adjusting the rounded silver frames of his glasses as they slipped down the elegant slope of his nose.
“Of course, of course.” Mingjue chuckled, opening the cupboard and pulling out a parchment wrapped bar of dark chocolate. He set the bar down on the maple-wood counter, pulling his chef’s knife from the roll and beginning to cut thin pieces of chocolate, the bar crunching under the familiar rocking motion of the blade.
“What are you doing over there?” Xichen asked, peering over the arm of the couch.
“Nothing.” Mingjue replied easily, filling a small pot with fresh soy milk and scraping the chocolate pieces into it. He set the pot over a low flame and went to clean and resharpen his knife.
“Isn’t that knife sharp enough already?” Xichen questioned. “You could wear out the blade like that.”
“I’ve had Baxia for years, she’s a good blade. She’ll be fine. Besides, I need my knives nice and sharp for service.” Mingjue answered, tucking his knife back into her slot and rolling up the leather roll. “Don’t wait up for me tonight, alright? It's my turn to help clean after closing, I won’t be back until at least 3.”
“You know I find it difficult to sleep without you…” Xichen pouted, resting his chin on the armrest.
Mingjue picked up a whisk, stirring the slowly frothing mixture and watching the mixture turn a beautiful pinkish brown. “I know, and I’m sorry.” he sighed. As much as he loved his work, his heart ached at the thought of his husband alone in their bed.
There was a time when Mingjue’s only love was his work. He had begun to work in a kitchen not long after his parents had died. Forced to drop out of high school to look after Huaisang, the work Mingjue could find was limited. An old friend took pity on him, a grandmother of one of Mingjue’s former classmates. She offered him a job in her modest little restaurant, tucked into one of the many alleys of the London Chinatown. Over time, Mingjue had found he had a knack for it, and began to move up through the culinary industry.
Cooking was his only love, until he met Lan Xichen.
He remembers that day as if it were yesterday. He was unloading another delivery of produce, having signed the approval for the order despite the mix up in the order.
How Huaisang could mistake bok choy and choi sum for the fifth time he would never understand, but he made it work.
He lifted another bag of beansprouts onto the pile already in his arms. He knew it wasn't a good idea to stack things above his eyeline, but the delivery was late enough already and he didn't have the time for multiple trips from the street to the walk in.
In retrospect, it was a stupid idea, but Mingjue couldn't fault his impatient younger self for the mistake as it had led him to something better than he ever deserved.
The bags slipped as he took a turn to avoid a pedestrian, and with the weight already in his arms he knew he'd never be able to catch the one falling from the top.
"Careful!" A gentle voice urged. Over the pile of blue bags, Mingjue met the gaze of the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life. Dark, chin length black hair almost shining a deep blue in the early morning light, oval shaped glasses perched on a slender nose, magnifying the sparkle in his honey coloured eyes, a rosy flush to their cheeks and soft, plush lips, holding the extra bag in his delicate looking hands. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Mingjue replied gruffly. "If I can have that bag back, I'd appreciate it."
"I don't think it's a good idea to block your line of sight… is there anyone that can help you?"
Mingjue shook his head. "I'm always the first one here."
"I have some free time, I can help you?"
"It's pretty heavy stuff, no offense. That bag alone is at least 10 kilos."
"It feels pretty light to me."
In retrospect, that was probably when Mingjue had fallen in love with Lan Xichen. A sweet, compassionate beauty who was possibly stronger than Mingjue himself. He had no choice but to fall for this man.
Mingjue chuckled to himself at the memory.
Mingjue had gruffly thanked Xichen and sent him on his way before deciding to bite the bullet.
"Wait!" He called after Xichen.
"Yes?"
"Um, I don't do this often but. Can I buy you a drink sometime? As thanks?" He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
Xichen fiddled with the strap of his satchel. "I'm afraid I don't drink…"
"I could buy you dinner then? Or make you a meal? If that's not too weird, I know I just met you but… I want to thank you properly."
"Alright then." He took out a teal notebook embossed with swirling clouds and a silver pen, scribbling something down and tearing out the page, handing it to Mingjue. "My number and my address, when is your next day off?"
"I finish my shift tomorrow at noon, if that works?"
"Alright. We can meet at the Loon Fung Market around 5pm and pick things out from there?"
"Sounds perfect." Mingjue found himself grinning.
"It's a date." Xichen beamed back, his ears flushing as much as his cheeks.
It had quickly become a routine between them, Xichen stopping by on his way back from dropping off his younger brother to his conservatory, helping Mingjue unpack his deliveries. In return, Mingjue would always pick him up after his lectures finished and they would walk back to the market, collect ingredients and make dinner.
At first, Mingjue did most of the work while Xichen watched, quickly learning that the young man was a horrible cook who had never had a properly seasoned morsel in his life. Xichen would help when he could with the prep, blushing as Mingjue helped adjust his knife grip and guide his hands in the correct chopping motions.
On one of their early dates, Xichen had laughed at a joke Mingjue made, and he found himself so enchanted by the beautiful, bell-like sound that he had nicked his thumb badly enough that he had lost a small part of his nail. Despite the injury being relatively minor - the missing part of his nail had long since grown back - he allowed Xichen to fuss over him with the first aid kit stashed in his bathroom.
After tenderly dressing the wound, Xichen kissed it better, only to pull away suddenly and apologise profusely, his face aflame as Mingjue sealed their lips together in their first kiss.
Mingjue pulled open the spice drawer, selecting the diligently labelled jars of cinnamon sticks, cloves, star anise, vanilla and cardamom pods, admiring Xichen’s delicate handwriting as he deposited the small bundle of spices into the pot, seasoning with a pinch of salt from the hand carved pot Mingjue had made on their first camping trip together.
Turning down the flame to a low simmer, Mingjue put away the spice jars and walked over to the cupboard to collect their mugs. His gaze caught on the collection of photographs on their message board; Wangji, his husband and their son in matching red rabbit sweaters for their New Year portrait. Huaisang in his graduation cap and gown, his arms around Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin’s necks, pulling the two in close for a photo. Mingjue in his chef’s whites at his first job as chef de commis in a fancy restaurant, smiling helplessly despite the ridiculous bunny and tiger filter Xichen had put over them at the time, his hair a messy blue ponytail and a green gem sitting on the crest of his outstretched tongue, symbols of Xichen’s rebellious period while hosting at the same restaurant. Lastly, and most recently, Nie Zonghui, Mingjue’s bartender, and Jiang Yanli, Mingjue’s sous chef, her young son on her hip and family at their sides as she stood with Mingjue in front of his restaurant, just days before opening, Xichen beaming at him, full of pride.
He placed the earthenware mugs by the stove, admiring with pride at his didi’s craftsmanship as the pearly cracked glaze shimmered in the sunset, the green and blue ink staining of each mug a personal touch to mark who they were intended for. He turned off the stove, picking up the saucepan.
“Smells delicious.” Xichen whispered in his ear, his hands appearing at his front as his arms wound around his waist.
“Couldn’t you wait for the surprise?” Mingjue chuckled as he poured the steaming liquid into their mugs.
“I got lonely.” Xichen pouted, pressing a kiss to Mingue’s shoulder, squeezing at his waist.
“Sure you did.” Mingjue snorted, turning his head to press a kiss to Xichen’s crown. “Do you want some cream with your hot chocolate?”
“Mm you know I do.” Xichen teased, nipping his ear.
“Behave, you’ll make me late.” he warned, earning a sweet laugh.
“Zonghui and Yanli will survive without you before service gets too busy.”
“We have two hundred covers booked tonight, A-Huan, I won’t leave them like that.”
“I know, I would never ask that of you.” Xichen agreed earnestly. “But you can’t blame me for wanting you to myself for a little bit longer.” He teased, sliding his hands under Mingjue’s shirt.
“Ah! Cold hands! Cold!” Mingjue yelped, spilling some of the hot chocolate on the counter top and causing his lover to cackle behind him. “Lan Huan, you take your cold hands off my stomach now .”
“But you’re so warm!” Xichen replied petulantly.
“And you’re freezing !” Mingjue shot back.
“Cuddle me and I’ll warm up faster.”
“Fine.” Mingjue wiped up the spilled chocolate as Xichen relinquished his hold. He picked up the mugs, turning as he handed one to Xichen before tucking him into his arms. “Better?”
Xichen inhaled the scent of the hot chocolate before taking a long, slow sip. “Mm, much.” He smiled, his glasses fogging up in the steam as he rested his head on Mingjue’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Just trying to make up for being gone so much.” Mingjue replied sheepishly as he sipped from his own mug.
“I knew what I was getting into when I met you, A-Jue. When you are here, you make the time count.”
“And you’re sure it doesn’t bother you at all?”
Xichen set down his mug before cupping Mingjue’s cheeks tenderly. “I will reassure you as many times as you need to hear it, I am not your previous partners. I will never leave you, and I have absolutely no problem with your work schedule. I just like to be whiny because I know you find it funny when I’m annoying.”
Mingjue leaned into his touch, smiling against his hand. “You’re cute when you get all pouty. You look so kissable.” He mumbled.
“Mm I know, that's why I do it.” Xichen replied with a soft smile, guiding Mingjue down to kiss him gently.
Mingjue kissed back tenderly, cupping the back of Xichen’s neck carefully. “Now, are you gonna promise not to wait up for me tonight?”
“No promises.”
“A-Huan.”
“I’ll try.”
-
Mingjue locked the door behind him, careful to be quiet as he hung his keys on the hook and set down his bag, toeing off his shoes and unzipping his coat.
He tiptoed through the hallway to the lounge, finding the lamp still on and Xichen’s jasmine incense burned down to embers, the man asleep over the arm of the couch, wearing Mingjue’s old hoodie and glasses askew on his face, hair falling out of its braid and book slipping out of his hand.
Mingjue let out a small sigh, feeling his heart swell in adoration of his beloved. Carefully, he covered the embers to suffocate them, taking Xichen’s book and saving his place, removing and folding his glasses, tucking them into his pocket before scooping him up in his arms.
“Mmh, did I fall asleep?” Xichen murmured, snuggling into the crook of Mingjue’s neck.
“I told you not to wait up for me.” Mingjue huffed fondly, carrying Xichen to their room.
“Mm s’your fault for encouraging my rebel streak.” Xichen yawned.
“So your shufu reminds me. He’ll never forgive me for that.”
“You didn’t make me get that tramp stamp, I wanted it. ‘Sides, its my body, ‘n I’m a grown up.”
“Mm, I know.”
“Never saw you complain about it, or the piercing. You like it if I recall.”
“Yes, A-Huan, we can talk about how much I like your tattoos and piercings in the morning.” Mingjue chuckled as he tucked his soft, sleep warmed lover into bed before turning to get ready for bed.
Xichen whined, holding out his arms to Mingjue. “Come baaaack. I’m lonelyyyy.”
“I’m just getting ready for bed, A-Huan. I’ll be five minutes, no more.” Mingjue set Xichen’s glasses on the nightstand, kissing his forehead before turning around to undress. “Puppy eyes won’t work on me, I can’t see you pout in this little light.” that earned him a petulant whine, making him chuckle.
He readied for bed quickly, climbing into bed and wrapping his arms around Xichen, earning a content sigh as his lover nuzzled close.
“Better?”
“Mm.”
“Promise you won’t stay up this late next time?”
“Hm. Do you promise not to get up in two hours to make me breakfast even though you should be sleeping?”
“... No promises.”