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a tea-rrific job

Summary:

Maomao, Jinshi had learned long ago, was far from a good patient—after all, she was the least patient person he knew. It was why he wasn't surprised when she stumbled into the kitchen, looking like she belonged back in bed.

Which was where he'd left her just a minute ago.

Or, Jinshi makes Maomao a cup of tea. Maomao supervises.

Notes:

Work Text:

Maomao, Jinshi had learned long ago, was far from a good patient—after all, she was the least patient person he knew. It was why he wasn't surprised when she stumbled into the kitchen, looking like she belonged back in bed.

Which was where he'd left her just a minute ago.

He raised an eyebrow as she scowled and dropped into a chair at the small round table. "Don't tell me you don't trust me to brew some tea," he said wryly. The tin in his hand was her favourite. A dozen buds of jasmine were curled neatly inside, fragrant and beautiful.

"You were taking so long I assumed you forgot how," Maomao said flatly, and Jinshi very kindly didn't point out that he had barely been gone long enough to put the water on.

Instead, he carefully and very exaggeratedly selected a bud from the tin and placed it into the teapot. Maomao watched him carefully as he removed the water from the heat just shy of boiling.

She made a disgruntled sound of approval, and Jinshi couldn't help but smile. Suiren had been horrified the first time she'd found him making his own tea, but Maomao had been plenty pleased to teach him just how she liked it made. Now he poured the water over the bud carefully and evenly before setting it aside to let it steep.

When he finally set a cup of tea before her, Maomao wrapped her hands around it and sighed. Jinshi didn't think it was just wishful thinking that a little colour came back into her cheeks. He'd planned to bring the tea to her in bed, but he supposed this worked, too.

He knew how much Maomao hated to lie still, how much she preferred to take things into her own hands and get them done. It was one of the things he loved the most about her, after all—even if he wished she'd just let him take care of her sometimes.

She was doing her best to let him right now, he knew.

After a moment, Maomao took a slow sip, her eyes fluttering closed at the warmth and the taste, and he watched her as he joined her at the table with his own cup.

"You brewed it perfectly," she told him, and if anyone else would say she sounded faintly grudging, to Jinshi she just sounded pleased.