Archive of Our Own ^beta

What a dilemma. 

This second trimester of Mydei’s pregnancy, all Phainon has done is find ways to alleviate Mydeis weird cravings. At least he isn’t getting sent to the Sea of Souls for sea monster again. Still, it doesn’t help that he’s staring blankly at the cutting board right now, apron on and unsure of where to start. His specialty is salads (not because he can’t cook anything else.) The Chrysos kitchen is usually Mydeis place, but the most he’s been doing is sunbathing and requesting things of Phainon. So cooking is now up to the salad guy. 

Today, he had requested the very first terrible dish he had made for Phainon. Which is fair, Phainon remembers that day with full clarity. Mydei watching him poke at the weird concoction with a spoon, daring him to take a bite. Which he had done, and was sure it was pure cement with a sprinkle of Dromas shit, or at least that’s what it tasted like. 

But how is he meant to replicate eating shit? 

Only Mydei could make perfectly good ingredients taste like whatever he wanted, including cement and feces. With a sigh, he goes to rummage again. There was an attempt at asking his partner earlier, but the scowling blond had thrown a sandal in Phainons general direction and went back to napping with that traitor Beagle Coconut. Precisely why he has no clue how to make shit cement out of food. 

He does have a small starting point. Fig Stew, who is off to Kephale knows where, is usually the one fed with peels and the like. Mydei had found that the chimera liked them for some reason. It didn’t take long for Phainon to find out that whenever Fig Stew was fed a steaming plate of food after Phainons teasing, Phainon would get a weird plate of whatever Mydei threw in. With that in mind, he starts gathering peels from whatever can be peeled. 

The onions make him cry, the bananas won’t open properly, and orange juice squirts directly into his eye. 

His cooking skills can’t be blamed when the ingredients hate him! 

With another wipe at his eyes to dry after washing, Phainon throws all the peels onto a tray and sets them in the oven. Surely this’ll work, sometimes he’s seen the process while begging Mydei to spare his taste buds. But with those baking, Phainon goes off to find Fig Stew. Hopefully the chimera is sunbathing like its owner and not lost, if not…Haha. Mydei is going to kill him. 

Without the Flamechase, it’s no longer of much meaning to be out and about dressed like any day could be one’s last. Phainon has gotten used to being relaxed and out of his Deliverer outfit - even if Aglaea is always glaring at him when he’s around. There’s nothing wrong with his yellow chiton and lavender belt, or the purple apron he wears on top right now. Sure everybody stares…but that’s definitely because he is currently running around like a madman. 

Fig Stew was in fact not outside or sunbathing. Phainon may be fucked. 

Mydei is so sensitive these days, he doesn’t need more stress while carrying their child. Especially not of their technical child Fig Stew. He steps through the Garden of Life, looking at any chimera that even mildly resembles Fig Stew. Perhaps luck is on his side?
“Trianne!” He runs to the small girl, crouching as she turns. Surely she knows? The Tribios spend much of their time playing with chimeras like most children here do. 

“Snowy!” A big grin grows on her face before dropping at the sight of a barely faking-no-distress Phainon. “Oh? Is something wrong, Snowy?” She places her hands on her hips, big eye squinting at him as if it will allow her to read his mind. 

Phainon shakes his head, laughing at the sweet girl as he does so. “No, no, I’m alright. Physically... Have you seen Fig Stew? I was cooking for Mydei and thought he was sunbathing but then I couldn’t find him. Has he come to play with Candied Apple?” 

Trianne presses a small finger to her bottom lip, tapping in wonder. “Nope! Candied Apple is napping!” 

“Ahahahaha…I see, thank you for the help Trianne!” Without waiting for a response, Phainon runs off. He has a dish (?) to get back to and a Fig Stew to find. No time to spend on chatting up Trianne or anyone else that might think he’s available. Said girl watches him with a confused expression and open mouth, wondering why Snowy could be so worried. Don’t all chimeras run sometimes?

–

It burned!! 

After a trip to nearly every part of Marmoreal palace and market, the baths, and inside their home - with great effort to avoid Mydei - Phainon did not find Fig Stew. And now the peels are burnt…Maybe that’ll make it taste closer to the brick Mydei once made for him but the real issue is where Fig Stew has gone off to. What kind of parent would he be if he lost his bald child? This is bad, but he should feed Mydei first. His partner might go easy on him if he has a full stomach. 

With a whine of defeat, Phainon sets the tray of mildly burnt peels down after taking them from the oven. The texture should be like fresh cement, mushy and gritty with a brick like color and smelling of dried Dromas poop after  being pressed. Not exactly appealing as food. 

His version is a gray blob. 

He slaps the slab with a wooden spoon, reeling from how hard it is. Should he really serve this to Mydei? He might get banned from the kline…a terrible fate. But his spouse did request it.

With a heavy heart Phainon prepares the tray of food, a simple honey brew on the side. This feels like a coin toss of despair. Taking the tray down the hall, Phainon arrives at the door of his and Mydeis' shared home, pumping himself up. He can do it! Mydei will like it! He won’t know about Fig Stew! With a deep breath he heads in. His antiques are displayed on cabinets Mydei had built for him, their floor decorated with a variety of Kremnoan rugs. Through another archway is their bedroom, Mydei splayed comfortably on his side, watching something on his teleslate. Probably chimera videos. The thought has a smile coming up Phainons face, his courage restored. At the end of the day, Mydei loves him so it’s all okay! Probably. 

“Mydei! Time for lunch!” Phainon carries the tray further inside, watching with tentative eyes as his partner sits up with practiced grace. Hyacine had confirmed Mydei is carrying twins, which was easy to suspect with the size he was reaching. It sends warmth rushing through him every time he sees Mydei carry himself with such care, always so worried about the babies. 

“Phainon.” Mydei regards him with just his name, which is kind of scary when they aren’t having a tender moment. Did he already do something? “Have you seen Fig Stew?”
Why did his spouse have to start with that? “Uh,” Phainon looks away, twiddling his thumbs, and finding his antiques even more interesting than when he appraised them. “In the kitchen, eating.” The lie rolls off easily once it comes to mind. Mydei doesn’t need to worry about that right now, he’ll know once Phainon finds that little bald thing. 

“You lie to me so easily?” Mydeis eyes narrow, helping himself up to stand. “Beagle Coconut is here, if Fig Stew was also here they would be cuddling.” 

Phainon is sweating. “No? How about eating first, Mydeimos?” Anyone. He can lie to anyone except his spouse, how does Mydei unravel him so easily? This is bad. The kline. He’ll be banned! 

“I no longer feel hungry.” Mydei is coming closer now, striding towards his husband with purpose. “Where is Fig Stew? This should not be a matter deserving of a lie. You need only tell me.” 

His grip on the tray is white knuckled, brows furrowing. Mydei seems calm enough, maybe he should tell? But what if Mydei stresses? Fig Stew has been his personal chimera since before their romantic established partnership. “I…well. I can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere, including here, but he’s nowhere to be seen.” 

Mydei doesn’t speak, simply watching Phainon wiggle in place, high strung and nervous. With a sigh, he finally says something. “You should have informed me earlier. We must look for him.” 

“You won’t ban me from our kline?!” 

Mydei shrugs, an amused smirk gracing his handsome face. “Would you like me to? I won’t, don’t be silly.”

Phainon exhales the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, nodding and smiling at Mydei. Luck really must be on his side today! He sets the tray by their nightstand, following after Mydei. Surely he knows better places to look for Fig Stew. “Where are we headed?” 

“Marmoreal Diner.” 

“Won’t it make you queasy? I know you don’t enjoy the intense smells anymore.” 

“No. Your terrible cooking has built my tolerance.”
Phainons sputters, taken aback by the half insult. How could his spouse say such a thing when he’s done so much? “You jest, surely?” 

“Why ever would I?”
Phainon blinks at the blond, wondering where he went wrong in being a good husband. “But all my cooking is at your request!” 

“You insult my taste?” 

Phainon whimpers, shutting his mouth. He’d tease, if not for the fact he knows Mydei could do a full one-eighty with one wrong word. He doesn’t want to be banned from spooning. He’s a good husband! He just sorta kinda lost their bald child is all. Perhaps he will take this small punishment. “No beloved, of course not…” 

–

Huh. Mydei was right. There Fig Stew is, in the back of Marmoreal Diner. With two new friends. Phainon is sure he’s sweating through his chiton again. He would stick to just friends if not for the way those two are rubbing up against the baldie, purring and nuzzling all together. Is Beagle Coconut getting cheated on? Right in front of Phainons eyes?

“How could Fig Stew do this? Isn’t he mated to Vigethos? Mydei do something! Your chimera is a cheater!” Phainon starts, exclaiming all his woes.

Mydei scowls at Phainon, smacking the snowy haired man upside the head. “Do not be dense, you can not hold Fig Stew to human values.” 

“So you admit he’s cheating.”
“He has a big heart with plenty of space for more chimeras.”
Phainon gawks, watching Mydei walk up to Fig Stew and his new companions. The traitors. Beagle Coconut is going to be so upset. 

–

It has been quite a few days of Phainon contemplating. Beagle Coconut is in no way upset, and each time Phainon sees it he starts questioning everything. 

–

“Are you sure we should take them home? Coconut is going to fight them won’t he? They’ll tear up the kline and have you stressed! Is it not better to have them be with Hyacine for now? Or send them to the Garden of Life?” Phainon just keeps yapping, Mydei wishes to shove a Beagle so far up his ass it reaches his vocal chords. 

“It will be of no issue at all.”
“How do you know that?”
“Don’t you know Beagle Coconut? He is a teasing chimera Deliverer, not a violent one.” 

“What if he woke up with violence today?” 

Mydei glowers at the man, hoping it conveys how much he’d like for him to stop worrying. He knows Coconut won’t be upset. They aren’t humans to hold grudges over that. At most Beagle Coconut will be angry at Fig Stew for a few days, but they’re both open to choosing companions. Most chimeras aren’t monogamous, it’s a matter of reproduction first. And Fig Stew likely went out precisely for that. Beagle Coconut could do just that as well.

Mumbling, Phainon follows after Mydei, defeated. It’s understandable, but all will be well. 

Mydei enters the archway of their home first, Fig Stew and his new companions following after, and then a dejected Phainon. Beagle Coconut is quick to bound to them from where he was likely still on the kline, big eyes meeting two pairs of new ones. 

“Awoo?” 

With a wail, Phainon throws himself to the floor, holding Beagle Coconuts paws as if to console. “I’m sorry! I brought home a cheater!” He should think of being in theatrics, Mydei thinks.

The Kremnoan rolls his eyes, walking right past his whining husband. How is he the one pregnant yet Phainon acts like so? The three others walk after him, Coconut leaving Phainons hands to follow. It earns a betrayed gasp from Phainon, who starts scrambling after them. 

“Mydei wait up! This is unacceptable, Coconut is so upset…”
Mydei pauses to look down at Beagle Coconut, who seems perfectly fine. He didn’t even try to start a conflict with the other two. He looks back up to Phainon.

“Why are you lying.”
“Tsk…I feel his pain Mydei, it radiates.”
Mydei gives his Deliverer a deadpan look before choosing to ignore him. A tray of food awaits him in their bedroom and time to spend with more chimeras. Perhaps he’ll allow Phainon to cuddle as well, if he shuts his mouth about chimera partnerships.

“Are you ignoring me?”
“Is it working?” 

Phainon grumbles, following begrudgingly now. But he takes a pause once more, tripping a little. “Mydei, the yellow one is laying at my feet.”
He turns back to his husband, a brow raised high, a sigh just in the back of his throat “Oh. Perhaps he’s asking for pats, or consoling you. Apologize Deliverer, you are hurting his feelings.”
“This one’s a girl though, look.” Phainon crouches down, poking at the yellow chimera. “Looks like Beagle Coconut, but she’s yellow.” He ruffles the chimera's fluffy fur, rubbing over her swollen belly, before it clicks. “Oh my Titans Mydei, Fig Stew committed adultery!!” Hands over his head, Phainon stares at Mydei as if he could somehow reverse it. 

Mydei merely shrugs. “We’ll head to the Garden of Life later then, to have them properly checked.”
“You’re ignoring my words!”
Mydei faces the red chimera, regarding him with all the patience of a mother. “Fig Stew, ignore your father.” 

–

They had gotten all the chimeras checked, and that adulterous little baldie had gotten all three pregnant, including Coconut. How could Mydei accept this?! 

Phainon doodles in the dirt with a stick, hanging off the outside kline in as melancholic a pose as he can. Mydei had been right anyways, the Beagles and Fig Stew were perfectly fine with each other, all of them nuzzled together more often than not. On that note, Mydei had gone and named the extras, Beagle Night and Beagle Fireglow. This is betrayal if anything, even though the chimeras are growing on him…He’ll continue being angry for Vigethos’ sake!

His doodle takes the form of Fig Stew with devil horns, a stupid little smirk on his cute chimera face. 

“Seriously?” 

Mydei comes up behind him, a beautiful white chiton draped off one shoulder, loosely encircling his swollen belly. It makes Phainon giddy. Is this how Fig Stew feels? Perhaps they have that in common. 

“What is it beloved? You don’t like my art?” Phainon scoots himself to one side of the kline, displaying more of his “art.” At which Mydei tuts and shakes his head. 

“You are being petty, Deliverer.”
“This is perfectly reasonable, I have no idea what else you could possibly mean.” 

“You are no better than Fig Stew.” Mydei counters, pointing at his own grown belly. 

Phainon coughs, looking away. “That doesn’t count…I am loyal only to you!” 

Mydei crosses his arms, seeing right through the obvious bullshit, except for the loyalty of course. But with a sigh he ignores it, there are more pressing matters at hand. Phainon will get over this soon enough, the man isn’t truly angry. “I want food.”
The singular phrase is enough to send a shiver up Phainons spine. What could Mydei want this time? When Mydei had eaten peel slop that he had personally requested, he had thrown the slab of ooey greyness right back at Phainon and requested a simple salad instead. But it's the act that counts…

“Yes dear, what…would you like?” Phainon gulps, his loose tunic feeling more like a noose around his neck. 

Mydei doesn’t take notice of his nerves, a hand beneath his beautiful belly, the other at his hip. “Beef.”
“Beef…?” Phainon repeats. There’s no way. What’s the catch? 

As though reading his racing mind, Mydei answers. “Dromas meat. Seared only on the outside.”
“...And?”
“That’s it.”
“Ah.” Phainon rubs at his nape, unsure if he should really take that as an answer. “That’s really it?”
“Yes.” Mydei cocks his head to the side, this time crossing his arms over his chest. It’s no longer the most intimidating and cool pose. He looks cute instead, chest pushed up, his arms right over his big belly. Phainon giggles. “What are you laughing about? Would you prefer a more difficult endeavor?” 

“No, no!! Haha I only meant to say that this order is…surprisingly simple?”
“You are an odd man, be grateful Deliverer.”
“That you love me?”
Mydeis face softens, likely against his will to challenge Phainon some more, making him tilt his head like a kitty who needs another nap - cheeks slowly reddening. How could Phainon ever say no?
“Okay dear!! Dromas meat it is.” He sing songs, leaving the kline and bounding over to Mydei. His pregnant husband doesn’t make a proper dodge to avoid him, leaving Phainon to do as he pleases, hugging him and pressing incessant kisses to his face. It makes Mydei scoff, his husband still acts as if they aren’t married with children and chimera grandchildren on the way. 

“I thought you were upset.” Mydei inquires, reciprocating a kiss to his lips. 

“That bald cheater won’t dampen my mood.” 

Mydei scowls. “Fig Stew is not bald, you old, white haired man.”
“Your old, white haired man.” Phainon beams, presenting his left hand to Mydei - the signet ring of Strife glowing golden beneath Kephales light. 

With a roll of his eyes Mydei pushes his man away, pinching his cheek and smiling at him. “Go and provide, HKS.” 

–

It really does feel like there should be a catch. Does Mydei really only want Dromas meat? 

The question lingers on Phainons mind as he makes his way through Marmoreal Market. The wide pathways are crowded, people huddled in groups, chatting and haggling with shopkeepers. A fine distraction for Phainons overthinking mind. Some things don’t change. If anything, he’s happy to see the butchers’ shop. His haggling skills are worthy of some gloating if he says so himself. He’s got Mydei beat when it comes to socializing. 

Despite his husband being a rich prince  and his own coin purse never empty, it doesn’t hurt to save money. With the thought in mind he approaches the man upfront, eyes already inspecting the large slabs of Dromas meat. Phainon has plenty of knowledge when it comes to spotting fresh produce, honed by growing up in a farming village and marrying a stellar chef like Mydei. It isn’t difficult to spot the freshest for his spouse, a slab that runs with small white veins like decorated marble, a glossy sheen like clear glass around it.

“My friend! How are you on this fair day?” 

“Lord Phainon, a pleasure as always.” The man answers with an easy smile, wiping his hands over his apron that has accumulated all too many meat fluids. “I am well, praise be to Kephale! And how are you? Is Lord Mydei well?”
“Thank you, thank you my good friend. Mydeimos is as well as he can be!” Phainon answers, patting the mans shoulder firmly for extra measure. Sometimes he isn’t against using his good reputation. 

“You two are expecting, yes? May Kephale watch over your children and spouse.” The man replies, a calloused hand patting over Phainons own. The lines of his palm are painted red, residuals thanks to his job.

“That is right! May Phagousa bless your own produce! Business is always booming with your skilled hands!” Phainon laughs, charming and disarming. He claps a hand over the slab of meat he’d been eyeing, the glimmer in his eyes turning calculating. “This one’s quite the looker, what a sheen! How much for the full catties?” 

The shopkeep places his own hand next to Phainons, a business smile replacing his genuine care for the Heir. “A keen eye you have, Lord Phainon. Three hundred balance coins are my fairest price for these!” 

Three hundred… “My friend, three hundred for five catties? Surely you know Dromas meat of any quality is not worth so much! Your fine shop is of great quality, so I will take them for two hundred balance coins, the full stock.” 

The butcher laughs, shaking his head. “My lord, this Dromas was fed the finest of red soil and allowed ample rest! How about two hundred and seventy five?” 

Phainon taps a finger to his chin, keeping an easy smile on his face to sell the innocent act. “You’re right my friend! Two hundred is quite low, but for the five catties I’ll pay two-twenty-five! You won’t have anyone else paying close to three-hundred balance coins!” That would be robbery, which Phainon doesn’t vocalize. He’d need another two catties before he paid a full three-hundred. 

The butcher seems to understand he won’t be getting more than that, his plan for the Chrysos Heir to buy without question having failed. “Of course, then allow me to pack this for you my Lord.” With a tight smile, the shopkeep takes the catties to pack while Phainon digs through his coin purse for payment. A good start to today, he’ll only need to restock on veggies for himself and pomegranates for Mydei. Perhaps now’s a good time to have the butcher pack him goats milk for Mydie as well. 

“My friend, please add goats milk to my order, the usual amount for Mydeimos!” 

“It would be my pleasure!” 

–

Phainon had done exactly as requested. 

After his shopping, he fed the chimeras and got started on Mydeis meal. A beautiful steak is what he made for his pregnant spouse, only for Mydei to now be picking at it like it has offended the entire Kremnoan dynasty. 

“Beloved?” 

Mydei cuts into the steak with unneeded force, holding up a thick slice on his fork. “It is wrong.”
“Ah…” What the hell does that mean. His once candid Mydei has become a man of fewer and more cryptic words since his pregnancy. “Would you like more…salt?” Phainon hesitantly stabs into his own salad, unsure of if he should eat while Mydei is hangry. The steak is perfect, exactly how Mydei had taught him when Phainon wanted to know how to cook for him the way he liked. Crisped perfectly on the outside, tender and juicy before reaching a warm and pink middle. Not quite to Phainons preferences but it’s how Mydei likes it-

“It’s overdone.” Mydei answers. 

Phainon blinks at his spouse, wondering which part of that steak is overdone. It’s the perfect medium rare, actually a little less cooked because Phainon had burned the slab of mush yesterday. “Mydei, it is exactly as you requested.” Phainon insists. 

“No.” Mydeis brows pinch together as he flails the fork. He’s become an odd individual with his pregnancy. A man who never wasted food now insists on eating exactly what he wants. It made Phainon happy at first, to have Mydei relax on that. Now he is always confused about his spouse and his requests. “I said cook only the outside.”
Did Mydei want a rare? “Well there’s more, how about I make another fix?”
Mydei sets the thick slice down, pushing the plate away and nodding. Phainon takes the plate, he’ll eat it later himself. He’s partial to medium rare. 

Within a few minutes, Phainon prepares another slice. Less cooked than the other, but the same process of herbs and oils. Surely Mydei will find this one acceptable-

“No.” 

Phainon has to blink again. It’s even less cooked! “Mydei would you prefer eating it raw?” Phainon didn’t mean for it to be sharp, but he’s frustrated. Unease bubbles inside him, a feeling of incompetency that he’s been trying to work through rising every time he does something Mydei considers wrong. 

“Yes.” 

Phainon was not expecting that answer. Jarring enough to have his spiraling thoughts leave him. It made sense? Sort of? “I can…do that. I suppose.” With a scratch to his nape, Phainon takes this plate as well and starts on the next slab of meat. 

He sets a pan over the stove, covers it in butter, and sears the steak in the most simple way he knows. With salt and pepper to taste, it’s barely cooked. Completely raw inside. Phainon no longer wants to question Mydei and his weird cravings. He plates the slice, not bothering with any prettiness this time and immediately presenting it to Mydei. 

The Kremnoan stares at the slab, and Phainon feels like he’s facing an entire panel of judges for his cooking. He’d probably get eliminated if it was anyone else eating this but Mydei takes a slice to his mouth and beams at the taste. 

Phainon finds himself sliding into his chair, a nervous laugh leaving him as Mydei devours the mostly raw slab. 

He really hopes this doesn’t become a common occurrence, no matter how much he likes Mydei eating well. 

–

He can’t breathe. 

There was a time when Phainon would wake in the middle of the night, unable to breathe, sobs wracking his body, his spouse his singular condolence - and his most prominent source of guilt. His body would refuse air, as if ushering him to an end would be true comfort. 

These days though it is because four chimeras and one Mydei decided that he should take up being employed as a kline. And Phainon should double those numbers because everyone except Fig Stew and himself are pregnant. There is great satisfaction in their nightly routine, Phainon settling into the cushy kline, his little family following after and cuddling up all around him. A warmth that grounds him into place, halts the gears of his mind and allows for proper rest. But every entry hour, without fail, everyone is on top of him. Phainons need to breathe overrides his want for the delicious warmth, so he unfortunately has to pry awat grabby hands and paws, extracting himself from the adorable pile. 

The chimeras immediately head to the next source of warmth, all of them curling up around Mydeis belly. A sight that Phainon keeps capturing on his teleslate every entry hour despite having several already. He can’t bring himself to wake Mydei, instead watching every rhythmic rise of his body, an assurance that Phainon can never get enough of. Not after watching that same body go still innumerable times. 

When those thoughts consume him, Phainon knows it’s time to busy himself. He doesn’t like sitting with those thoughts; not unless Hyacine is with him, guiding him from self blame and weighing guilt. And when she isn’t around, Mydei will praise with such a deadpan stare that Phainon can’t help but know his husband means every word. Mydei is an honest man. But when neither is available, he busies himself with their home. 

A simple cleaning of himself and he heads to the kitchen, hands resting over his hips as he thinks. What would Mydei want today? He shakes his head at himself. It’s futile to think about his husbands ever changing diet. Mydei’s stomach is on a randomizer now. A better use of his time until his spouse wakes is preparing food for the chimeras. They’re about as predictable as Phainon, the same thing as usual.

He would have kept that line of thought if Vigethos didn’t turn away from his food when Phainon presented it in their bedroom. Fireglow and Night following in tow. Phainon watches with crippling patience as Fig Stew calls him a HKS very loudly before munching on food that is not for him. One very picky eater is plenty, now he has three more….

—

“What are you doing?” Mydei stares down at his husband, who is kneeling on the floor, holding eye contact with Fig Stew. Phainon must be losing his mind, his expression keeps falling the more he stares into Fig Stews confused countenance, unaware of his multitude of crimes. Mydei thinks him an idiot, but Phainon knows better. The little thing learned how to say HKS and got three chimeras pregnant. He should be held accountable for trying to take their food too. 

“Reprimanding our son, Mydei. Don’t you see? He’s trying to eat the food I made for his partners! Plural!” 

Mydei crosses his arms over his ample chest, a bored yawn leaving him. He looks down at Phainons genuinely sulking expression, amused - then gives the man a kick to the butt, making him topple over. 

Fine amusement for this fine morning. 

“Reprimand him after feeding me then. Or will you be like Fig Stew?” 

Phainons gawks, offended that Mydei could compare him to a cheating, adulterous chimera. “I would never! I was only waiting because I needed to ask my dear husband what he wanted.” Phainon huffs out, finally getting on his feet and dusting off his behind. “How could you bully me like this? Don’t you know the punishment for such actions?” 

Of course Mydei knows. How can he consider it a punishment when the HKS clings to him like the newborns they’ll be having? For now he ignores it, he can indulge the moping man later. “Today I want…hm…a salad.” 

“A salad?” 

“A salad.” 

Phainon squints his eyes in suspicion. Though not because of the salad itself. “Can you tell me the catch right now or will I have to cook thrice again before you give me a concise answer?” 

“The latter sounds good.” Mydei answers, a teasing smirk playing on his pretty face. 

Phainon throws himself over Mydei, whimpering into his shoulder. Sometimes it works. “Noooooo…” 

“HKS I’m the one who’s pregnant, get off, you’re heavy.” Apparently today is not one of those sometimes. Mydei slaps at the man’s arms, though it quickly veers off to groping ample biceps. 

Phainon whines instead, biting Mydeis cheek like the dog he is. Mydei smacks at Phainon again, urging him to not gnaw. His husband is so clingy, as if Mydei would ever dream of leaving him. Phainon looks like a baby weaning off his favorite bottle, before his expression drops once more. “It can’t be just a salad. You’re gonna beat me with the salad bowl.”
“When have I ever beaten you?”

“...”

“Fine.” Mydei huffs. The beatings they’ve done have always been mutual…right up until he got pregnant. His sandal is very familiar with Phainons face these days. “I also want honeycakes.” 

“Oh! Well, see my beloved? It wasn’t so hard to answer!” Phainon practically beams, bringing Mydei into his arms again. “Although, aren't two meals a bit much?” Mydei is still queasy at times, the nausea hasn’t quite left him yet. 

The blond answers him with a quizzical expression, a clean brow raised high. “It won’t be two meals.” 

“...ah. I see. That’s- so like-” Phainon moves his arms around, hoping it conveys what he assumes is him communicating that he definitely totally understands what Mydei means. 

Mydeis brow twitches in annoyance, enough to make Phainon stop. It’s too early for the sandal. “So a salad, but with honeycakes…?” 

“Break them into the salad and mix them in.” 

“Sugar and all?” 

“Mm.” 

“Perhaps two kids is enough.” Phainon sighs out. No part of this pregnancy has been quite as terrifying as Mydei and his weird stomach. There was the recklessness, but Mydei got over that quickly after a thorough reprimanding from Hyacine and a mortified Phainon. 

“Remind me again who wanted kids?” The Kremnoan presses with a glare. 

“I didn’t realize it came with daily beatings and your stomach developing a new personality.” 

Mydei cackles at Phainons answer, walking off with more amusement than Phainon could ever truly muster. He knows their pregnancy has been much easier than most, and he’s grateful. But alas, there’s always something to speak about even if he doesn’t truly mind. 

Putting those thoughts aside, Phainon makes his way toward the kitchen once more. A honeycake salad with…greens. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore, not really. It’s been like this for quite some time now. And yet each day is some new combination that makes Phainon question why his chef of a husband has such odd cravings. 

First, something different for the chimeras. Maybe a salad is what they need as well. Not to mention he’ll have to restock. And they haven’t had the conversation of what they’ll do with the chimera babies. Phainon mopes about the kitchen, thoughts of every possibility running through his mind, a habit that has stuck with him throughout the years. He sets another tray by the chimeras, fresh leaves he had gotten from the market while shopping yesterday, and peels for Fig Stew who is not pregnant. Phainon can’t help shaking his head at Fig Stew, a little endearing as the little chimera goes to share his peels with his mates first. Well, at least he's a providing cheater. 

Mydei will not be so easy to please. 

Phainon gets started on a simple salad, nothing noteworthy added to suit Mydeis simple palate. He pauses mid-slice, wondering why he does that. Mydei will be eating it mixed with honeycakes. What does that make his palate now? Yet another topic to overthink as he mixes batter for honeycakes. Not a step wrong either, Mydei had personally requested the recipe from Kyros’ diner and perfected it before teaching Phainon. Such harshness was the teaching that Phainon can neither forget nor mess up. It makes Phainon shiver. Even Anaxa is a saint compared to his spouse, who’s only nice when teaching kids. 

Phainon butters the pan, scooping a generous amount of batter into it. The sizzle is crisp, the aroma of honeyed cakes already wafting. Fig Stew is sure to spawn any second now, possibly his owner too. 

– 

He was right about one. 

Fig Stew did spawn, little red form nipping softly at Phainons feet as he moved to cut up the perfect honeycakes. Stacked with layers of honey in between and powdered with dusty sugar, Phainon throws them into the salad bowl - saving only one for Fig Stew. He throws the mix of berries and pomegranate arils into the salad as well, only slightly stirring so the cakes don’t lose shape. 

Beautiful as the dishes are individually…this does not look good. Likely doesn’t taste any better, but he really tries not to question it. All he needs to do is present it to Mydei and hope for the best. 

– 

Phainon is aware Mydei can become Fig Stew - a revelation he is still giddy over. It’s quite the adorable trait. Perfect for teasing as well. 

But he wasn’t aware the man shared culinary preferences with chimeras as well. 

All four are gathered round Mydei and his salad bowl of half honeycakes, poking and prodding with soft paws and gleaming eyes. Not a single glance towards Phainon, the one who had made the…concoction. Could he really call that a dish? Mydei must, for he digs in with great fervor. Phainon can only interpret the blonds nodding as satisfaction, unless Mydei is rearing to headbutt him…? He’s prepared for both. 

No headbutt comes, Phainon watching softly as Mydei throws little bits of honeycake and salad to each chimera. The blond meets his gaze though, contemplative over Phainons confused return. But then he speaks those words, sweeter than any honeycake, and all the assurance that Phainon has needed throughout this part of the trimester. 

“Thank you.”

For they reach beyond this moment alone. 

–