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Eli shuffles out of his room, beckoned by the aroma of frying meat and a fresh pot of caf. He pulls his sweater tighter around him, these winter months make the apartment cold no matter what, and smiles as Thrawn offers him a cup of caf over the breakfast bar.
“Mornin’,” Eli bids, voice crackling from disuse.
“Good morning,” Thrawn says and turns back to their breakfast.
Eli slides into his seat at the bar, taking in the view on the other side. “Did Thunhe already leave? I didn’t hear her—”
His question is cut off by said woman tearing out of her room, sealing her uniform tunic as she runs. “Why didn’t you guys wake me up? I’m going to be late!” The question is apparently rhetorical, because she opts to charge through the kitchen, turning to slip by Thrawn while simultaneously snatching two pieces of fried meat. She shoves her feet in her boots and is out the door before either of them can tell her to have a good day.
Thrawn turns to face him. “I had been under the impression that she had left as well.”
Eli shrugs. “So what do we do today?”
Thrawn’s eyes spark, which only means one thing—he has a plan. “After we eat breakfast, I propose we go to the art museum. They have a new exhibit.” He pulls out his questis and shows the advert to Eli. “Iit is all of the robes of patriarchs throughout the years. Thalias’ ceremonial robes are featured in the Mitth wing. Additionally, the entry fee is lowered due to our military status.”
Eli holds the questis further away so he can better see the different robes. “Sure, let’s do it. Want to get lunch while we are at?”
Thrawn looks excited. “Would you be opposed to eating at the bistro around the corner from the museum?”
Eli smiles outright and hands Thrawn the questis. There is a small family owned bistro downtown that has amazing food and nicer people, it is the same bistro they have gone to after every museum date. Eli always gets the spicy chicken pasta and Thrawn the seafood soup—the protein changes based on the catch of the day. It is a routine, but never one that is boring and is instead one that Eli cherishes.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” he says.
“Very well.” Thrawn hands him a plate of food. “We still have a few hours until the museum opens.”
Eli scooches his eggs across his place contemplatively. “Well, I sincerely doubt it’ll take me all morning to eat this.”
“No?”
Eli takes a bite of the scrambled eggs and looks up at Thrawn through his eyelashes. “Nope.”
Eli hardly gets to finish his breakfast at all before Thrawn’s hands are in his hair, pulling at his clothes, and goading him down the hall to their room.
~
They walk right into the museum with only a few stares from the patrons. The staff now know both he and Thrawn by name—not only are they just there that frequently, but Thrawn also makes a point to donate a generous amount to the youth program.
Speaking of Thrawn, the man is nearly vibrating with excitement as he leads Eli through the main hall, where there is a truly breathtaking stained glass piece, and into the special exhibit hall.
The first Mitth Patriarch’s robes stand tall and proud, perfectly encapsulated in glass. The robes themselves are a deep burgundy, though delicately embroidered with shells and pieces of glossy clay.
“Says here that she was the first person to open adoption to those of…” Eli can feel his nose scrunch. “Lesser…breeding.”
“A fascinating choice to use pieces of shell,” Thrawn says, completely unaware that Eli read the plaque. “Perhaps the Mitth originated from a sea-fairing planet.”
The day continues on like this, Thrawn deducing what a Patriarch was like through their robes. Eli keeps close to him with a search engine pulled up, confirming if his notions are correct or not. He's correct every time.
Then they get to Thalias’ robe. It is her ceremonial garb, the one she only wears to the most formal events. It really is stunning—black with gold and burgundy crystals emerging from the bottom to look as if she is walking across rays of sunlight. In the inside seam of each billowing wrist are ancient Chiss proverbs, one about taking no life and the other about smiting enemies.
“I might be biased,” Eli says, “but this is the best one yet.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn says. “She keeps the proverbs with her to remember to keep herself balanced, but, at her roots she is still Mitth.”
Eli nods. “It's perfect for her.”
Thrawn rights himself from where he had bent over to get closer to the glass. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“You don't want to go look at the other family's stuff?”
“Do you?”
“I mean, I figured maybe you would want to understand how other families operate politically.”
“I will never understand. Besides, I have you and Thalias.”
Eli grins. “That you do.”
~
Eli pulls up his collar, a vain attempt to keep out the icy wind. “It's colder than a witch's tit out here!”
Since entering the museum, it has started snowing. Puffy flakes fly across the gray streets, and though most people look unperturbed, the wind has a bite to it and Eli stuffs his hands into the pockets of his wool coat for relief. He loves living here, he loves his family, his job, but damn does he hate winter.
Thrawn’s hand slips into his pocket and he wraps his fingers around Eli’s. Eli holds on tight and tucks his face further into his coat, knowing that Thrawn will lead him safely to the bistro. Well aware of Eli’s tolerance, he hurries, but does not out pace Eli’s shorter stride. They turn the corner and Thrawn stops to pull open the door before ushering Eli inside. The warmth hits him and he breathes a sigh of relief. Grabbing the second door, he steps aside to let Thrawn in.
“Thrawn! Eli!” Afripa, the hostess, chirps. Her dark hair is braided back and secured in silver insect clips. “I thought you two would be here today!”
“You know we couldn't miss the new exhibit,” Eli says and gives her a warm smile.
“Oh I can't wait to go see it, how was it?” She grabs them two menus and two sets of silverware and leads them to their table—in the corner, away from most of the other patrons where it is quiet.
“It was fascinating,” Thrawn answers. “You can learn a great deal from the clothing people choose.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, a devilish smile twisting her lips, “Tell me one fact about myself.”
They both take their seats and Thrawn looks her up and down. She is wearing a simple black dress and tights with modest shoes—likely a practical choice for being on her feet all day.
“Individuality is important to you, which is why you choose unique hairstyles,” Thrawn states simply and Eli takes a moment to see what Thrawn sees. The dress is embroidered with fine silver detailing that is nearly imperceptible at first glance, as is the silver eyeliner framing her crimson eyes.
“Spot on!” She smiles. “I’ll get you guys some caccoleaf,” she says and flutters off.
“Show off,” Eli smiles and sets a hand on the table.
“Is it showing off if she asked?” Thrawn questions, placing his hand on the table so that the tips of their fingers are intertwined. “I hope today was not too boring.”
Eli shakes his head. “You know I love going to the museum with you.”
“I have yet to figure out why.”
“Because it makes you happy.”
“That is enough?”
“More than enough,” Eli says and runs his index finger up Thrawn’s.
His smile is so tender that it leaves Eli breathless. After everything, after all they’ve been through, it feels like some sort of miracle—a statistical anomaly—that they are here today in this little bistro.
When the waitress returns, they order the same thing they always do. The food is amazing as always, and they eat in comfortable silence.
~
Today has been a good day. They walk back to their apartment, hand in hand. The snow finally let up and though the temperature is no less frigid, the journey back home is peaceful. They stopped off at a bakery to get pastries for tomorrow and Thrawn carries the bundle in one hand, loathe to let Eli go with the other.
“What do you say we spend the rest of the afternoon being couch barnacles?” Eli says as he climbs the last stair to their floor.
“Are there any more episodes of that one show you were watching?”
Eli hums, “Which one? The one about the Syndicure Spouses or the one about Deadliest Mining Operations?”
“The mining operations.”
“You know, I don’t know, we can look though.” Eli unlocks their front door and they step through the threshold.
A person, who is definitely not their daughter, is standing in the middle of their kitchen reading the family calendar on the chilling unit. “Yokima?” he asks around his racing heart.
She turns to face him. “Oh hey, Thunhe’s dads. Thunhe said you guys likely went out. Yapel?” She offers him the bag of chips he bought two days ago at the grocery.
He shakes his head. “How many times have I told you just Thrawn and Eli is fine?” Walking further into the apartment, he pulls off his coat and hangs it on the back of the barstool.
With a shrug, she shoves her hand into the yapel bag. “Feels wrong. What did you guys do today?”
“Eli endured another trip to the museum,” Thrawn says and takes Eli’s coat and hangs it in the closet next to his.
“Oh yeah, that’s right, they have the patriarch robe collection on display. See anything cool?” Yokima peeks into the bag of pastries and, deciding against one, grabs another fistful of yapels.
“I was particularly fascinated by the modern collection of Mitth Patriarch robes.”
“Still think we should have torched Thurfian’s,” Eli mutters.
“It is still an important part of history,” Thrawn rebukes gently.
“I’m sensing gossip,” Yokima sings. “Is this a story that should be saved for dinner or late night caco? I need to live vicariously through Mitth family drama. The Coduyo folk are so boring.”
“One day, you’ll be grateful for that,” Eli teases. “Is Thunhe home yet?”
“Nah, we have dinner plans for tonight and I didn't want whatever slop they were serving in the mess so,” she motions to herself with the yapel bag, “here I am.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn says and there is a knock at the door.
“I'll get it,” Eli offers and slips behind him to the door.
Wuluko, once so timid and scared, strides right past him and into the house. “Hey Thunhe’s dads.”
“Eli,” he corrects, exasperated.
“Is Thunhe here yet?”
Eli catches Thrawn’s gaze. They aren't certain how it happened, how they managed to adopt three kids in their lifetime—one officially and two by proxy—but here they are.
“No,” Thrawn says. “But everyone else is. Tea?”
Yokima nods with excitement and dances, in her socks and loose-fitting pants, around the breakfast bar. Wuluko slips off his boots and meets her in the living room. Thrawn goes about preparing the tea and Eli unwraps their pastries to warm in the oven.
The front door opens once again and Thunhe prances inside, hardly stopping to remove her shoes. “Hey Da,” she says and kisses his cheek. “Hey Dad.” She gives him a sideways hug and runs into the living room. “Are we ready?!”
“Hell yeah we are!”
She grabs the remote and the three midagers pile onto the couch to continue their marathon of whatever movie series they are watching currently.
Thrawn slides closer to him and wraps his index finger around Eli's pinkie. He brings his gaze up to meet Thrawn’s eyes and smiles. In two different lifetimes they had been abandoned by their families—Thrawn betrayed by the Mitth and Eli disowned by his own blood. But somewhere, in the chaos, the war, and the loss, they were able to create a home where not only they feel safe, but their daughter’s friends as well. It’s just another statistical anomaly that Eli can’t figure out how it happened, but is so infinitely grateful that it did.
“Thunhe’s dads,” Yokima says, perking up from her position on the couch. “Care to join us?”
Eli smiles. “You go ahead and start, we’ll get the snacks.”