Work Text:
From the moment Riddle gave the raised planter box project an OK, Trey knew exactly what he wanted to do. He’d searched up ideas on occasion during lazy days at the bakery, sending Magicam posts and screenshots to Rook for a second opinion (and then immediately regretting it when his inquiry was met with multi-message walls of text every. Single. Time.) While it certainly would’ve been easier to shoot off to the nearest garden center and grab a pre-built planter or two, Trey had other plans.
Which was how Riddle came home from a lesson that ran late to find several planks of wood stacked along the floor near the sliding glass door to the backyard.
“You’re going to build them from scratch?” was the first thing he asked in lieu of a greeting upon locating Trey in the washroom, just emerging from an evening shower.
“I’m going to try,” Trey corrected, toweling off his damp hair. “I’ve been wanting to take another crack at making my own furniture for a while. Some planter boxes don’t seem too complicated.”
“Then you’ll be doing most of the work outside. I want no risk of sawdust getting enmeshed within every conceivable crevasse.”
“Oh, for sure. It’ll be better ventilation.”
He made absolutely certain to move all the wood to the porch before turning in for bed, despite harboring concerns about how the morning dew might affect the building process. Damp wood wasn’t the best to work with in most scenarios, after all. But Riddle did not appear to be in the mood to hash out logistics, especially after finding a stray ant roaming the floor near the pile that may or may not have hitched a ride, so Trey accepted the risk and figured he could use magic to dry things off as needed.
The next morning, for the first time in months, Trey got up before Riddle did. Riddle’s earlier-than-usual alarm hadn’t gone off yet, he could’ve easily slept in another hour, but as soon as he opened his eyes he was filled with motivation. Sleepy, groggy, sludgy motivation, but motivation nonetheless. An incredibly rare occurrence, and one he decided to take advantage of instead of burrowing back into the blankets like the demon on his shoulder was urging. Riddle barely even twitched when Trey left the bed; he made sure to tuck Riddle in and press a kiss to his slumbering head on the way out. Any groans and gripes were reserved for when the door was safely shut behind him; even with a set goal driving him, Trey was not much of a morning person.
Normally on days they both had off he would’ve gone right to making breakfast after his shower, bringing it to wherever Riddle had chosen as his study space for the morning. In the interest of treading ground, Trey instead snatched a banana from their countertop fruit bowl and marched his way outside. He surveyed his workspace as he ate, gazing across the open grassy expanse where he planned to lay a tarp, damp with dew like he’d predicted. They hadn’t really done much with the backyard yet, anything beyond a small patch of practice flowers to test the natural soil lost in the chaos of moving houses and university and work, so raised ground beds were a potential prospect for another day. Something to think about with Riddle. For now, the boxes would be suitable.
Spinning the measuring tape around his index finger, Trey stared down at the pile of boards at his feet, then glanced at the planning sheet on the deck chair to his left, then back to the boards. Where to start, where to start…? Well, drying them off of course, but then what? Saw, sand, paint, build? Yeah, that sounded good, he decided. Get the longest beams cut first and work down from there.
As soon as he’d finished applying the first coat of sealant to protect the wood, Trey heard the click of the sliding glass door and turned to find one very drowsy-looking Riddle emerging from the house. He’d ironed his clothes and combed out…MOST of his bedhead, save for a few strands sticking up that he clearly thought he’d tamed, only to remain defiant once the mirror was no longer in play. In his hands he carried a mug, and perched obediently on his shoulder, clinging to the wool cardigan he wore on cool mornings, was their hedgehog.
Saying Riddle walked down the porch steps would be generous, more dragging himself to the bottom stair to plop on a dry spot and take a big, looooong sip of what was likely tea. At that moment Trey wished his hands weren’t dirty beneath the gloves so he could snatch his phone and take a picture. Seeing Riddle so relaxed and yet in no rush to correct his appearance further was a rarity among rarities. Heck, he didn’t even look to be in a foul mood.
“Yesterday took its toll, huh?” Trey called as he set down the brush and removed his gloves, laughing softly at Riddle’s tired hum of confirmation as he approached. Rather than touch his face because, again, dirty hands, he leaned down. “Good morning.”
Riddle met him half way to catch the peck to his lips. “Good morning,” he returned, voice still a little croaky.
“No plans today?”
“Of course I have plans,” Riddle scoffed, pausing to take another sip when his throat grew audibly dry. “But am I not allowed to take a moment to enjoy my morning and watch?”
Trey tapped a finger to his chin, and only slightly grimaced when he felt it leave a dusty spot on his skin. “Mmm, I dunno. What if I wanted to surprise you with something out here?”
Another breath left Riddle, closer to a laugh this time. “Then I regret to inform you that the ship has long since sailed, as you already told me your plans.” He set his free hand on the step as though he meant to push off from it. “But if you insist.”
An arm shoved itself down on top of Riddle’s unclaimed shoulder to keep him in place, only realizing a split second later that he probably should’ve checked for any smeared dirt or sealant or water before doing so. Oh well, he’d take the punishment later. “I’m just teasing, you don’t HAVE to. Besides,” he pulled back to hold a finger out for their hedgehog to sniff, “I wouldn’t want to take away from Wocky’s time outdoors.”
The hedgehog perked up, intrigued by the newfound scent, only to immediately recoil with a hiss and lose interest in favour of tracking a gnat. When he nearly fell off, Riddle plucked him down to cradle instead, the mug set aside on the step.
Immediately deciding that he had more important things to pay attention to right then than a few planks of sealant-damp wood, Trey tossed his gloves off to the side. “So,” he began as he claimed a seat on the step beside Riddle, “where do you think they should be? Since they’re boxes, we can always move them around when we have more concrete plans for the backyard.”
Riddle glanced up at him, then gazed across the yard, idly passing Wocky back and forth in his hands with a thoughtful hum. “What colour were you going to paint them?”
“White, like the ones we had back at NRC. It makes the green leaves and red berries look nice when they bloom.”
“In that case, they’ll look lovely next to the rose bush…” When he trailed off, Trey looked down to find his lips pursed in thought. Rather than reply, he waited for Riddle to continue. “But to give the strawberries as much sunlight as needed, it would be best to place the boxes along the north side instead.”
“The north IS kinda scarce right now,” Trey agreed, trying to visualize how the garden would look with Riddle’s suggestion, mentally swapping around locations and colours and designs for the boxes. He wasn’t great with that sort of stuff, but maybe he could make something work that would win Riddle’s favour. “I was thinking of adding a shelf to one of them,” he said idly.
“Why only one?” Riddle asked, curious.
“I’m not sure how hard it’ll be to do that. Or how much I’ll actually use it. I’ve seen people leave equipment or saplings under planter boxes so they can access them easier, but they’d have to be put away if it rained or we had a cold snap. There’s nothing wrong with just placing stuff on the grass if it’s only temporary, either.”
Riddle leaned over to rest his head against Trey’s shoulder, either unaware or uncaring of how much sawdust his jacket might’ve hidden. “You would have to seal the bottom entirely to prevent any water from draining all upon the self as well.”
“That too. It’s not impossible, though. And it might be worthwhile to leave it be if we use it to keep seedlings moist.” He almost shrugged. Instead, he pressed his temple to Riddle’s head, hoping he didn’t have any of that potential sawdust in his hair. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You mentioned it might be difficult. Do you have instructions on how to build the boxes?”
He see-sawed his hand back and forth with a quiet “ehhh” sound. “I found a bunch of different tutorials and DIYs online, so I picked the one I liked best, but it didn’t include shelves. So I’m going to do one box with the guide, and then when it comes to the second one with the shelf, I’ll experiment around.”
Riddle made a soft hum and returned Wocky to his opposite shoulder in order to take another sip from his mug.
“Heh, sorry, I know it’s not very interesting.”
That got Riddle to pull back. A pang of disappointment ran through Trey’s chest at the loss of contact, though it didn’t last long from Riddle’s earnest smile. “On the contrary. I’m well versed in furniture styles, but construction is a place I’m still sorely lacking in. Whenever I’ve had to assemble furniture, I always make sure to follow the instructions provided to the letter, so admittedly I grow lost when it comes to winging it. It reminds me of how you cook, in a sense.”
“Cooking, but with power tools.”
Riddle snorted, amused. “I recall one time, while on the topic of food with Lilia—” he snorted again at the look of complete and utter concern upon Trey’s face, “he mentioned that if you don’t have a mixer available, attaching a beater or a whisk to a drill would suffice.”
“I…I mean. Sure. I guess. That WOULD be cooking with power tools. But also, no.”
“I do mean it, though. No, not Lilia’s…creative solutions, don’t give me that look. What I mean is, if you follow every word of a cookbook, you’re more likely than not going to succeed with the finished product. Perhaps not a guarantee, as I’ve learned, but your odds of success are indeed much higher. Yet I remain completely baffled by how you can turn leftovers into a brand new meal without any guidance. You’re skilled with improvising,” Riddle insisted.
“I’ve had a lot of practice, is all. Making furniture is leagues different.” His hand twitched, eager to try and rub at the back of his neck, cheeks heating with a warmth that not even the sun could match. He held back.
“And yet you’ve been explaining the considerations you’ve had to take into account when adding a shelf to a design that originally didn’t have one, as though you’ve done it before.” He reached for Trey’s hand, only to do a double-take and retreat with his nose wrinkled once he finally noticed how dirty it appeared. It took a couple seconds for Riddle to assess what the cleanest part of Trey was, and eventually settled on reaching up to bunt his head against Trey’s like an affectionate cat. Something he’d undoubtedly picked up from time spent with Chenya. “I have the utmost confidence that it’ll turn out great.”
“Well, now I can’t afford to mess it up.” He leaned down to accept Riddle’s bonk, stealing another few seconds of closeness before letting him sit back. “Maybe if I get really good at it, we can fill the yard with strawberry boxes.”
For a moment Riddle seemed to actually consider it, lips twisting this way and that. “We should have SOME variety…” He returned to surveying the yard. “What about a decorative trellis, next? Something capable of supporting raspberries?”
“Or blackberries, if we're ambitious.”
“I'd rather not see my yard turned into a war zone due to a stray blackberry taking root.”
Trey shuddered at the image of a rogue blackberry bush fighting for dominance against the flowers, eventually overtaking their wilted bodies until only thorny vines remained. “Good point, we'll stick to store-bought.”
A beat passed, long enough for Riddle to hold his arm out and let Wocky crawl down into his palm, the hedgehog no longer content with merely sniffing the air and seized with a need to wander. “What about double-layering some of the beds?” Leaning forward, he set Wocky onto the step beside him, then pointed to the north again. “Build some boxes to hang off the fence, so there's one layer above and one below. Plants that need full sun can grow in the top layer, and partial shade can grow in the ground.”
“Ooh, not a bad idea—” Trey glanced, then quickly set his hand down to create a barrier between Wocky and his pants. “Might wanna stop him, I don't know if I've smudged myself with sealant or not.”
Wocky was immediately snatched back up and returned to the confines of Riddle's lap, his adventure cut woefully short.
“I'm just not sure if the fence would be sturdy enough to handle the weight,” Trey continued now that any risk of hedgehog poisoning was averted. “…but maybe with the right supports…”
“And perhaps a fountain next to that. I believe the birds would greatly enjoy it, and the sound of running water would be most pleasing.”
Trey smiled. “You're going to make me build you your dream yard, huh?”
Brow furrowing tight, Riddle turned to face him, suddenly much more alert than his dreamy planning had been seconds ago. “I don't intend on making you do anything! If I really wanted an addition that you weren't keen on building, I'd do it myself!”
“Relax, I'm just teasing. I'd be happy to make anything you wish.” A pause. “Within reason.”
Riddle huffed, but still leaned in to meet Trey's lips for another kiss. “Within reason,” he echoed, pouting just a tad bit at being teased.
As cute as it was, Trey couldn’t leave him like that.
Clapping his hands to dust them off, he pushed himself up off the step with a grunt. The berries wouldn’t be ready for another year, not with the temperatures already beginning to drop, but that didn’t mean they were devoid of homegrown treats. Instead of returning to his work, Trey circled around to the patch of practice flowers he’d sown within the little stone border, and began to tease apart the candypop buds for a good looking bloom. Thankfully they appeared to all be growing nicely, and he plucked one flower right off the top. He checked to ensure there weren’t any bugs hiding out under the petals, then popped it in his mouth. Yup, these would be perfect.
“Trey! What in the world are you doing?” Riddle exclaimed.
Turning, Trey spun the stem between his fingers and put his plan into action. “Having a snack. You can eat these flowers as is.”
“You can? So they’re like violets, then?”
“Yeah, though you don’t usually candy these, unless you’d want to taste a shot of pure sugar.” He plucked another, checked it, and held it out. “Wanna try?”
Riddle readjusted his cardigan and stood, leaving his tea on the step, eyeing the flower curiously as he approached to receive the treat. Despite already being checked, he gave the flower a cautious once-over before following Trey’s example and biting it whole. At first he squinted. Then his eyes went wide. “Mm—that’s surprisingly sweet,” he commented, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mission accomplished. “Right? It’s the kind of sweetness you’d expect from a fruit.”
“...I could do without the core, though.” He scrunched up his nose. “It’s as though I’ve accidentally eaten the skin of a shelled peanut.” Once finished with his treat, he held the stem up to Wocky, who gobbled it right up.
“Careful, or you're going to risk spoiling him.” Trey chuckled.
His lips tightened in what looked like an attempt at pouting again, but Riddle was smiling too hard for it to take effect. “He's already spoiled. Aren't you? You wouldn’t even touch breakfast this week unless there was exactly one mealworm sitting on top. Hmm?” He gently booped his finger against Wocky's head quills, and got huffed at in return. “We’re going to have to break you of that stubbornness for your health. Naughty boy,” said with only love and affection in his heart.
At the mention of a meal, Trey’s stomach growled, clearly not satisfied with only a fruit and a singular flower. If he was hungry, then Riddle must’ve been famished. “Speaking of breakfast, it’s about time.”
“You needn’t stop on my account. I can prepare breakfast for the both of us.”
“Kind of you to offer, but I think I’ll come in for a break anyway.” Scooping up his gloves from where he’d tossed them, he looked down at himself. “Though I guess I’ll need another shower before I touch anything…”
As if the realization only occurred to him then—and given how drowsy he’d appeared, it likely had—Riddle froze mid-stride, reaching up to touch his hair where he’d nuzzled up to Trey’s shoulder earlier. Then he sighed, stuffed Wocky into the cardigan’s pocket for safekeeping, and retrieved his tea. “Don’t use all the hot water,” he said as he shuffled back inside.
“I’ll leave you plenty,” Trey chuckled and trailed in after, shifting his planning away from the planter box building just as eagerly as he’d set upon it. With their schedules, he hadn’t a clue when the next time they’d be able to share a peaceful breakfast together would be. Perhaps by the time their strawberry bushes grew fruit next year, it would be every day.