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Caleb wakes up to shaking. The military gave him enough experience to regain consciousness in moments for any danger.
The same consciousness translates the source to be a familiarly cold palm just as he hears, "Sorry for waking you up, dear."
Not danger but just as important. "It's alright," Caleb slurs while letting himself relax enough to slouch and smile. "Whatcha want, snowflake?"
Zayne leans into his side, cuddling the flesh arm. "Hungry," he murmurs into Caleb's shoulder.
Caleb kisses his forehead just as he chuckles. "Told you the sandwich wouldn't be enough. You're eating for two, Dr. Zayne --you of all people need to be reminded now?"
Zayne only hums in retaliation, but makes no move to stop using Caleb's shoulder as a pillow.
Caleb sits still for a moment, reveling in the warmth, weight and easy scent of jasmine surrounding him. Eventually, he removes Zayne's arms from his.
"Any particular instruction for the chef?" He says lightly, mostly to ease the pout on his mate's lips at the lack of a body.
Zayne still keeps their fingers interlaced, gently swinging between them as he contemplates his appetite. Eventually, he says, "Spicy beef stew. One grandma Josephine used to make."
The request causes Caleb's indulgent grin to soften. It has been a long time since he had them, not even on the last few times Zayne did visit Josephine while Caleb was away at the academy. Fortunately, as the dish was also enjoyed by you, he learned the recipie to be almost identical to hers.
"As you wish," Caleb obliges with a bow and another kiss to his forehead, wrist and slightly protruding belly. The second trimester is still a week or two off, but it doesn't stop the pack from growing giddy at the slightest bump easily hidden under a loose shirt. Zayne makes a show of disapproving their early excitement, but Caleb clearly remembers the sight of soft gaze and scarred hands caressing his abdomen, even if he stays quiet.
As protocol dictates, Caleb texts their group chat until one of their mates arrives to replace him beside Zayne. This time, it is Rafayel --eager to abandon a piece intended for an exhibition almost a month away.
Caleb slips away once Zayne is occupied with cuddling into his Lemaurian mate and arrives into the kitchen. It's mostly quiet, with Sylus gone for business at the N109 Zone, Xavier dead to the world, and you either following suit or up quietly playing games beside him.
They've holed up in Zayne's mansion long enough to be familiar with the space, including the kitchen. Caleb easily learned Zayne's system of organization in his exploration one afternoon while Zayne was away for his appointment, so he is quick to snatch the beef from the freezer.
Fortunately, it hasn't frozen after it's brief use for the dinner sandwiches, so Caleb leaves it to warm while he gathered the other ingredients.
The stew is quick to prepare, really just dumping a few ingredients at a time before letting the broth cook with the lid on, just long enough to let him dice the beef. Caleb utilizes both hands to stir the broth while stir frying beef just for the texture before dropping it into the broth. The final leg of cooking takes about ten minute. After another five minutes of taste testing and adjusting the salt, Caleb organizes everything onto a tray and walks back into the room.
Rafayel pipes up and he was probably talking because his silence gets Zayne to look over as well. It takes another moment before he too catches the aroma of spices.
"Express delivery for our one and only," Caleb announces, making a show of setting down the tray as if presenting a gift to royalty.
Rafayel whistles. "That looks dangerous."
The color is indeed more red than a dish is typically expected to be, but Caleb only shrugs. Even with his own tolerance for spice, grandma's dishes were downright radioactive. Caleb and Zayne used to struggle between the milk carton after two bites while you chowed down half of it with glee. His dish, though spicy, isn't as demented as hers.
All the memories and thoughts about the dish evaporated when his eyes meets Zayne's, soft with sleep and love. "Thank you, my dear."
Caleb doesn't hide his blush and face splitting grin. "Anytime, snowflake."
Zayne tries the dish and voices his approval midway into his second bite. Rafayel whines about eating too so after reminding Zayne to not talk while eating, Caleb goes to bring another spoon.
When he walks back in, the enthusiastic clinking of ceramic and metal has quietened. As Rafayel is still relaxing beside him, Caleb walks over without rushing.
Rafayel takes the spoon and manages a quick "thanks" before hauling in a mouthful of meat. Zayne's spoon stays suspiciously unmoving on the edge of the bowl.
Caleb takes a seat on the edge of the bed and taps the tray to redirect those eyes on him. No panic, just a little... longing. "Is there anything wrong, dear? Too spicy?"
Zayne shakes his head. "No. On the contrary, I don't feel much spice."
This gets Rafayel coughing. "Doc, the hormones are getting to you --this dish would have Xavier struggling and Sylus dead." Even as he says so, he was starting to redden from the spices.
Zayne gives him a light shove, though he goes back to looking at the bowl. It's Caleb who cups his jaw and lifts it to show him a tender smile. "It's alright, there's still some meat left over, I can whip up another batch." Before Zayne can assure him, the man has already dashed back to the kitchen.
"It's alright," Rafayel says while tugging Zayne under his arms, tray repositioned to keep his mate close while still taking bites of the stew. "He would've gone out anyway after telepathically seeing you still crave for spice, or however you childhood friends freakily read each other.
That gets Zayne to relax onto his chest, opting to listen to him rant about annoying clients between bites.
Caleb arrives faster with the next batch, steaming strongly enough to resemble a lava pit.
However, to Rafayel's absolute horror, Zayne remains unfazed after a spoonful of the new dish.
"Still not spicy?" Caleb asks gently.
Zayne stays quiet.
"Snowflake, be honest with me, please."
This gets the doctor to crack. "No. It isn't."
Rafayel makes the mistake of trying one bite, making Caleb carry back the dish while he panted with Zayne's palms cooling his cheeks.
The steam has blurred the edges of the meat enough to seem like it's glowing like coals. Rafayel has half the mind to curl closer to his mate, first dish now finished.
"Babe, I tasted this one and broke out the new chili paste your parents gifted." A finding from a distant village in Asia, used just once for a family hotpot only you managed to finish with great struggle.
Zayne tried to compliment the dish, but one look into the purple pools exposed his dissatisfaction and guilt.
"It's alright, you don't have to--"
"Dont't worry, I just added one tea spoon. Another should do the trick."
Another tea spoon does not do the trick. Not the next one. Nor the next three.
Caleb keeps the assuring smile on, even when he's close to contemplating whether this is a sign to go to the doctor. Rafayel is less subtle than him, but still placates Zayne as Caleb takes away the dish to remake it.
In a cursory glance at the fridge on his last trip back, he discovers his back up plan.
Ghost peppers. Exactly two sitting in a wrapped package unopened from months ago. No amount of time has reduced it's menacing shade of red.
Not even two slices of that monstrosity has been enough for Zayne's taste buds. Caleb, clutching his palms to ensure they do not come anywhere near his face unless he has a deathwish, feels his eyes twitch.
"It's better," Zayne rushes to comment. "It's just...maybe simply having the chili might help."
"Babe, I love you but absolutely not," Rafayel cries, mortified. "Is that much spice even good for the baby?"
"Capsaicin is a chemical that exclusively affects the taste buds," Zayne says, half clinically half placatingly. "I promise I won't consume anything that will harm the pup."
"That I know you won't, more than anything," assures the artist while resting his forehead against Zayne's. "I'm just worried since you don't usually prefer this much spice in your food."
Zayne keeps his eyes closed, calm in the scent of spices, sea salt and caramel mingling into the sensory equivalrnt of an embrace.
The calm is quietly interrupted by Caleb's voice. "I got one last trick up my sleeves, but if that fails, we're calling up Xavier's hotpot place."
Zayne doesn't cry, not yet at least, but he squeezes back Caleb's fingers to show his eternal gratitude and guilt about keeping them both up so late.
They didn't have to call up Xavier's hotpot place, but Rafayel wonders if he would've prefered that over Caleb's last trick.
For what it's worth, it did do the job of a final stage trick: leave the audience so amazed they'd question reality.
The audience in this case is him and Caleb, who looks surprised at his half-assed plan worked, and cannot decide whether he's happy or not.
Zayne finally found the dish that satiated his craving for something spicy: stir fried slices of beef with the remaining Ghost Pepper. His mates watch on as he interchanges between accompanying a slice and a half of meat with a delicate bite off the pepper.
The plate miraculously becomes empty. Zayne simply leans back into the headboard and looks at Caleb with half lid eyes, adorably resembling a cat after a hearty lunch. "Thank you, darling. I made you go through a lot of trouble for such a simple solution."
"That's alright," Caleb says softly despite still staring down at the empty plate. "As long as you're happy, babe."
Rafayel eventually snaps out for long enough to make Zayne wash his hands thoroughly, while Caleb gets to clearing the dishes. He gives the plate holding that monstrosity one last trembling look before shuddering an hurrying back into the arms of his, now sleepy and full-bellied, mate.
"It's not funny," Zayne deadpans despite his ears reddening by the second. He also does not protest when Sylus pulls him against his warm chest, still shaking with amused, polite chuckles.
Unlike him, his other mate have tumbled onto the floor, hollering into tears. Rafayel wishes to bury you six feet under --the only hindrance to achieve this dream is Xavier on his lap.
"So," Xavier says non-chalantly, though a sparkle has taken over his eternally sparkly eyes, "does that mean you can eat hotpot?"
"He's not eating out," Caleb snaps, going back to his seat realizing you are a lost cause. Upon seeing those eyes downcast, he quickly clarifies, "I can make some at home."
Xavier wears the satisfaction like an old housecat.
This also makes him piliant enough to be shoved off by Rafayel. Your laughter becomes terrified shrieks as the two of you dash across the house.
Caleb lets out a sigh deep enough to be felt by a soul. "I'll get started on dinner. Keep them and Zayne out of the kitchen."
Sylus gives a two fingered mock salute while Zayne cuddles closer, mumbling something about not needing to be coddled. In search of a new lap to nap on, Xavier crawls over to Zayne and promptly passes out with scarred, cold fingers in his hair.
Between the screams of vindication and sizzle of vegetables, between soft stands between his fingers and off tune hums against his ears, Zayne is content.