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The shop is quiet, the only sounds the soft fwooshing of a feather duster and the scuttling of tiny, clawed feet. Most of the lights have been put out or turned down, including the one outside the front door. The last client had left over half an hour ago, an elderly woman making her usual monthly stop to pick up an ointment for her achy joints. She always comes in close to closing time and always stays to talk even after she’s paid.
It's no trouble to Ximena. Miss Flora always has fun stories about her small army of cats and their shenanigans, and doesn’t seem to get out of the house very often. If a once-a-month visit to the magician’s shop is the most human interaction she gets, Ximena doesn’t mind having to close up a little later for it.
Another swish of the duster sends a small cascade of dust motes dancing into the fading rays of sunlight filtering through the windows. A streak of black fur immediately shoots into the air, claws glinting as they swipe at the floating particles.
The magician laughs. “You’d have more luck chasing your squeaky ball, Ember.”
The ferret changes direction mid-leap, twisting her furry body in half to eye the woman dusting shelves.
‘Not playing,’ she says, ‘Helping!'
Ximena raises an eyebrow. “Oh? You’re helping me clean up, is that it?”
‘Helping! Beat dusties!’
“Okay, if you say so.”
Seemingly satisfied, Ember goes back to pouncing at the "dusties". Ximena laughs and continues the actual dusting until every shelf is clean. A quick sweep of the floor and wipe-down of the counter and the evening shop cleaning is done.
Ximena lets out a gusty sigh, blowing loose strands of her inky black hair out of her face. She looks to the window to see the first star glinting through the twilight and sighs again.
He’s late tonight.
Apparently having the same thought, Ember slinks over to the door, giving it a cursory sniff before turning back. ‘Snack-man come home?’
A small smile quirks Ximena’s lips. Even after all this time, Ember still refuses to call Julian anything else. “Not yet, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
She taps her fingers thoughtfully on the countertop. As late as it is, he’ll probably come home exhausted. She should probably go ahead and see what she can come up with for dinner.
Gods, she hates cooking. Well, mostly she hates having to stand in a hot kitchen for extended amounts of time, and there's only so much that the cute stove salamander and the fun of experimenting with spices can do to mitigate that. But sometimes it simply can’t be helped, and she won’t make her bedraggled, worn-out husband do it after an extra long day at the clinic. Even if it was supposed to be his turn tonight. Besides, just because she loathes it doesn’t mean she’s bad at it. Quite the contrary, in fact.
Ember stays to pace at the front door, waiting for her evening snack as Ximena goes upstairs. The tinkling sound of bangles and rings being removed echoes in the stairwell as she goes, and she stops in the bedroom to deposit them in her jewelry box. The feather earrings go next, then the necklaces and finally the anklets. Accessories all taken care of, she slips out of her dress and changes into her around-the-house comfy pants and cropped shirt.
It's a short walk to the kitchen, and Ximena cocks her hip as she stares at the stove, mulling over her options. There's potatoes and onions on the counter, and some other vegetables in the enchanted icebox, along with a chunk of leftover beef roast from their dinner a couple nights ago at Portia's.
Leftover beef and veggie soup it is, then. Simple, just the way she likes it, with a nice bonus of being hearty and delicious. There's even a handful of buttery dinner rolls to sop it up with. As soon as that's settled, Ximena starts bustling about, humming to herself and occasionally talking to the salamander as she settles into the rhythm of cooking.
A little while later, when the vegetables have been chopped, lightly sautéed and mixed into an aromatic, herb-filled broth and she's just waiting for it all to come to a boil before adding the diced up chunks of roast, Ximena hears the front door open. The sound of her husband's voice filters up the stairs, too quiet to be understood, but the replying chirps and squeaks imply it's a very important conversation. She smiles to herself and waits for Julian's customary loud greeting, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s only the soft shuffle of sock feet dragging up the stairs. He actually stopped to take his boots off.
He must really be exhausted.
Her suspicions are confirmed when he all but collapses on her moments later, draping his arms over her shoulders and wrapping around her like a gangly human blanket. He nuzzles into her hair, inhaling deeply before letting out a gusty sigh and slumping against her back.
Ximena tilts her head to the side and presses a kiss to his temple. “Long day?”
Julian only hums an affirmative and kisses her neck in response.
“That bad, huh?” She reaches back with one hand to scratch her nails lightly along his scalp, but her fingers are quickly caught in a snarl of curly hair. He must have been dragging his hands through it a lot. Still, he leans into the touch, pressing his cheek against her palm.
“There was an accident at the docks,” he says. “Faulty rigging; one of the lines snapped when they were loading cargo.”
“Oh dear. That is bad.”
But Julian shakes his head. “The dock took more damage than the workers. There were a lot of injuries, but most of them weren’t serious. There were just…a lot.”
Ximena hums thoughtfully. “Most? Does that mean some were serious?”
“One man lost a finger.”
“Oh. That’s...unfortunate.”
She feels Julian shrug against her. “He took it surprisingly well, actually. Told me he hardly felt it get snapped off, just…watched it sail over the edge of the dock. According to him, a big golden fish leapt out of the water and swallowed it whole.” One of Julian’s hands lifts enough to mime the arc of a leaping fish, fingers mimicking its jaws snapping shut at the end.
Ximena snorts a laugh. “Sounds like one of your stories.”
“My dear, my darling Ximena, I am insulted,” he huffs. “If it was one of my stories, there would have been two fish, and they would have dueled to the death for it—”
“While you bravely dove into the sea, narrowly avoiding their razor-sharp teeth as you heroically retrieved the lost appendage to sew back on for the poor, distraught dockworker?”
“Yes, exactly. Thank you.” Another kiss on her neck, and then a yawn. “Anyway, as I was saying, his wife was far more upset about it than he was. I think we spent more time consoling her than we did patching him up.”
“Hm. Well, I’m sorry you had such a hard day, love. Dinner will be done soon, though, if you want to go sit down. Get off your feet.”
“Maybe in a minute,” he says, tilting his head to rest against hers. “Not ready to move yet. Just…can I just stay like this a little longer? Please?”
“Of course you can. I will be needing that hand back, though.” She carefully extricates her fingers from the knots of his hair, but he catches her hand before she can pull it away fully. He brings it to his lips to leave soft kisses on her fingertips.
“That’s too bad,” he says, and there’s a hint of mischief in his tired voice. “You know how much I love having your hands on me.”
Ximena rolls her eyes fondly. “I have a wooden spoon, and I’m not afraid to use it, mister.” She lifts the utensil in question threateningly, and Julian relinquishes her fingers with a dramatic sigh.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Mazelinka.”
Julian settles down after that, nestling himself comfortably on Ximena’s shoulder. Well, she assumes he must be comfortable, since he stays there for quite a while without moving, though she wouldn’t put it past him to simply ignore his spine protesting being stooped over for so long. As for her, she enjoys his warm weight against her back. At least, she enjoys it up until he starts getting heavier, leaning on her more and more until she feels she must be holding all of him up herself.
“Julian, honey, I love you, but I am trying to work here. Could you let up on the smothering just a bit?”
He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t move either.
“Julian?” Still nothing. “Ilya?”
Finally, she gets an answer in the form of a very soft snore.
Ximena goes stock-still, but the surprise quickly morphs into amusement, and she tries to hold back her giggles so she doesn’t dislodge him. It’s just like her Julian to pass out this way. She’s caught him sprawled across the couch—limbs akimbo with his boots still on—more times than she can count, and zonked at his desk with his face stuck to the half-dried ink on his notepaper and standing slumped against a bookshelf, fingers stopped halfway through pulling down a book. He sleeps more regularly since he’s been living with her, but years of chronic insomnia and running on nothing but ungodly amounts of coffee and anxiety are hard to overcome. Who would've guessed?
She can’t bear to wake him up just yet, so she subtly shifts her feet to a wider stance and goes back to stirring the soup. He can have this little nap before dinner if he needs it. He probably does need it. And hopefully it’ll keep him from nodding off right into his bowl at the table. He continues to snore gently in her ear, a sound she's grown quite fond of, much to Julian's somewhat baffled amusement. She just likes being able to hear him near her. Plus, the sound means he's actually getting some fucking sleep, so the soft rumbling is music to her ears.
Eventually, however, dinner is done and she has to wake him up. She thanks the salamander and has him turn off the burner before reaching her hand back to scratch her nails lightly against the nape of Julian's neck. His snoring cuts off and he shivers.
"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty," Ximena says with a smile, her fingers moving from his neck to tug gently at his earlobe.
He gives a small whine of protest, but at another insistent tug on his ear, Julian sighs and stands back up. There's a loud crack, immediately followed by a startled oomph.
Ximena turns around, eyebrows arched high in concern. "Was that your spine?"
Julian looks down at her sheepishly, one hand pressed to his lower back. "It, uh, it might have been?" His thick brows draw together in concern as he looks down at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that. Are you alright?" He brings both hands to her shoulders, thumbs drawing up to rub along the sides of her neck.
Ximena smiles and rolls her eyes fondly. "It's not the first time you've fallen asleep on me. We're just usually a bit more...horizontal." Her mouth quirks into a smirk on the last word.
It has the desired effect, sending a pretty red flush across his high cheekbones. "Well, yes, but—I mean, that's a little, that's different, isn't it?" he stutters out. "You know, more even distribution of weight and all, and a soft bed underneath, or the couch too sometimes I guess—"
She cuts off his rambling with two fingers pressed gently against his lips, a soft laugh escaping her own. "Hush, you. I'm fine, I promise."
Julian blinks at her owlishly for a moment before a smile stretches across his face. He draws back enough to say a quiet "okay," before leaning back to press a quick kiss to her fingers.
"Good. Now why don't you take off your gloves and jacket and go sit down? I'll bring the soup in a moment. Oh, and take the basket of rolls to the table with you, please."
His grin widens and he bends to kiss the top of her head. "As you wish, milaya," he murmurs into her hair before grabbing the basket and stepping out of view.
Ximena can hear the rustle of cloth and leather behind her, followed by the scrape of chair legs on the floor and a thump as he drops into his seat. She ladles up two bowls of soup as she listens, topping each with a fresh sprig of parsley for a pop of color.
"So, how was your day, darling?" Julian asks as she sets their bowls down.
"Not as busy as yours. A few new elixir orders that'll be picked up tomorrow, sold some luck charms. Did a love reading for a nice young couple." She laughs as she takes her seat, smiling fondly. "Those girls were absolutely smitten, I tell you. Starry eyes and giggles all around."
"Ah, young love. All delicate and sweet like fairy floss. Enough to rot the teeth of old curmudgeons like us, right darling?"
Ximena narrows her eyes at his smirking face. "Old? I can't be old, I haven't even hit thirty yet!"
"Oh, but my dear, your birthday is only a few weeks away. And then you'll have to accept that you're an old curmudgeon just like me. Trust me, I'm a doctor."
She snorts and swallows a spoonful of soup. "If the sound your spine just made is anything to go by, doctor, I think you're beyond old. Ancient, a relic of the past, even."
Julian heaves a dramatic, forlorn sigh. "You're right, of course. Ancient rattling bones and creaky joints—why, I can hardly stand to move on my own." He dips his head to look up at her through his long lashes, mismatched eyes wide and lips pulled into a perfect pout. "My young, spry, beautiful, ray of sunshine wife might just have to carry me to bed so I don't fall and break a hip."
They stare at each other for a long moment, her with an unimpressed frown and him with the biggest puppy eyes he can manage. Julian cracks first, his pouting mouth twitching incrementally up into a smile before he can't hold back a laugh any longer. Ximena joins with a roll of her eyes, giggle-snorting at her husband's theatrics.
"Eat your soup, you goof, and then maybe we'll talk about me taking you to bed."
"Promise?"
She throws a bread roll at him.