A new family addition

[seemagicshit]

[Rain pattered against the windows at a steady rate. It made a nice backdrop to the soundscape of Zhao's apartment. The rice cooker chirped pleasantly, miso soup burbled on the stove and the clink of dishware all harmonized and emphasized that a meal would be forthcoming.

Zhao whistled a little tune as he got everything ready. He'd opted for more traditional Japanese this time around, but had an extra dish of grilled chicken for his boyfriend's extra protein needs. He eyed the rain beginning to increase outside. Joon-gi Han would be perfectly fine in his coat, but it was going to leave a mess.

He eyed some of his more threadbare towels, wondering which he could throw on the floor to sit under the sopping coat when he heard the door unlock.]

Hey, baby, you made it just in time for dinner.

Comments

[seemagicshit]

[Zhao sniffed away his own emotions and smiled. Food, in his opinion, always made everything better. Whatever emotional detonation Joon-gi was going through, the karage was helping with the healing process. He chewed thoughtfully before responding.]

Just a lot of people from the older generations. They'd be pretty fuckin' quick to rap you with a ladle or worse if you couldn't keep up. Sometimes it was my dad for recipes. Sometimes the old guard, but they didn't praise me for anything til I was an adult.

Most of the time just the older generation. Best of them was old man Huang. He didn't give a fuck who you were, only how well you could learn. Taught my dad too, I think. He taught me how preparing food the best of your ability was also showing respect to people who wanted to eat. They're trusting you to feed not just their bodies but their souls and if you could honor that trust, you'd have customers for life.

I lose track who taught what dish. Kinda blends together.

[Maybe because they were in the light of the kitchen during the late night. Or because he hadn't bothered with his rings. But a fine line of white was visible on the backs of his fingers of his left hand. It looked like it'd happened all about the same time and probably with something sharp.]

Sometimes I dream about being taught and I can hear their voices again. It's like saying hi after they died. Kinda neat.

[joongipan]

[ He listened intently as Zhao spoke about his past, picking at the remains of his meal. The way he spoke about cooking and sharing meals with others made it sound almost like a sacred act.

They're trusting you to feed not just their bodies but their souls, and if you could honor that trust, you'd have customers for life. ]

You know, there was this old Chinese woman who owned a restaurant near my childhood home. She used to say something similar. Whenever my mother and I would pick up food, she would always give us extra helpings of orange chicken and rice, even though we couldn't afford it. I think... she knew our situation just by looking at us. Said she didn't care about the money, that she'd rather feed a hundred strangers free of charge than see a single one of them go hungry.

[ In that moment, Joon-gi realized that maybe he'd been acting selfishly by never asking Zhao for seconds, or stating his preferences when it concerned meals. He thought that he'd been making things easier for Zhao, but maybe he saw it as indifference on Joon-gi's part. Something cold slithered its way into his heart at the thought that he might have inadvertently spurned Zhao's affections all this time.

Joon-gi reached for Zhao's hand and absently rubbed his thumb against his knuckles. He could see the small nicks along his fingers from where the knife slipped and he'd cut himself. Old battle scars from a veteran of kitchen work.

What was unusual, though, was the long, thin line sliced across the back of his fingers. If Joon-gi had to hazard a guess, it was indicative of someone else attacking him with some sharp implement. It seemed doubtful that Zhao did that to himself. ]

Those people were like your family, weren't they? So, each time you make one of the recipes they taught you, you're keeping their memory alive. I'm sure Huang must be proud of you, knowing how many people you've fed using the skills he taught you. [ He lowered his gaze, tracing the length of that scar with his thumb. ] Who knows? Maybe you even saved someone's life with one of your meals. Sometimes that makes all the difference for someone living in desperate circumstances.

[seemagicshit]

I don't know about saving anyone's life, but definitely improved moods with my meals.

[He ate his last karage wrap one handed. Who was he to argue if his boyfriend wanted to hold his hand?]

I'd like to think I did all my teachers proud. Also not surprised about the old Chinese lady. Seems like everyone of a certain generation had that mindset. Nowadays it depends on who you interact with.

[With the way Joon-gi traced his thumb on his fingers, it drew attention to the scars. Sometimes you just forgot where you got a certain scar on the body until you got a reminder. Zhao frowned until it came to him and then he brightened.]

Holy shit. I've been putting my rings on so long I kinda forgot that was there. That's the last time my dad got physical with me. Tried to tell me I wasn't shit when I was 17 and was probably drunk. He was getting upset 'cause he was starting to give power over but he didn't want to do all of it just yet. So I'm in the kitchen doing my thing and he's all "I bet this is shit you ain't good enough" and he sliced me. What I didn't know is he heated that bastard.

But I was fuckin' stone cold. Everybody in the kitchen saw it and I stared him down. Then I just dunked my hand in water, finished what I was making and I served it to him. When he took a bite, you could see in his face that it was good and everyone in that room saw it too. Then he mumbled some bullshit excuse and left.

I felt so goddamn happy. I won. I mean, it still hurt like a bitch and I had to wear bandages for a bit but that was when power began to really shift.

But it also told me that I could really cook. Making meals and feeding people just does a lot for me, ya know? So if there's something you actually have a hankering for or maybe you want me to cook more stuff to help your diet, I'm happy to learn, okay?

[joongipan]

[ His brows furrowed and a muscle worked in his jaw. His thumb continued to trace back and forth across that scar, as if he could erase the evidence of such cruelty with his touch alone. ]

That was stupid and pointlessly cruel. If the cut had been any deeper, you could have lost the use of that hand entirely...

[ But since when did a father need a reason to hurt his son? Joon-gi (Yeonsu) remembered the pain of every split lip, every backhanded blow across his skull; the bruises turning black and blue down the length of his back. His father had been careful to make sure the wounds were in places no one would see. He didn't want anyone asking awkward questions.

Of course, all of that stopped once Yeonsu had his face surgically altered—his humanity stripped away and exchanged for the visage of a god. He remembered how, for the first time ever, his father kissed his brow, almost worshipfully, while Yeonsu (soon to be Han Joon-gi) stared at him helplessly through the veil of gauze covering his face, and wept with impotent rage. Because he was too weak to raise a hand against the man who had hurt him over and over and over again... ]

You handled that with far more grace than I would have done, that's for sure. If I had been in your place, I would have decked the old man, and he would have deserved it.

[ Han Joon-gi would never have suffered such a blatant display of disrespect. He'd seen first hand how his predecessor dealt with those who disrespected him... and it wasn't pretty.

But Joon-gi pushed that thought aside as he raised Zhao's hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss against his knuckles, as if such a gesture could somehow erase the memory of the pain inflicted so long ago.

They sat there together in silence for many long moments while Joon-gi continued to hold Zhao's hand. ]

I think... I'd like it if you could make orange chicken for dinner tomorrow. That is, if it's not too much trouble... [ He lifted his gaze, and there was something wistful in his expression. ] I've tried it at so many different restaurants, but none of them came close to how that old woman made it. But I bet you could do it if you put your mind to it.

[seemagicshit]

Stupid and pointlessly cruel sums up my dad, but it doesn't bother me. Still, nice to know that you would have probably murdered him for me. Makes me smile.

[Companionable silence settled until Zhao finally heard a food request from his boyfriend. Inwardly his heart leapt.]

Orange chicken? Haven't made it in a bit, but we could make it a fun experiment. I'll make it and you tell me what you think it needs to make it perfect.

[He cleaned up the table and took a look at the clock on the oven.] Okay, we actually have to try to sleep after all that. I'll set an alarm and we can duke it out to see who takes the next feeding.

[A quick glance at the princess bed showed Chun Li very blissfully asleep.]

But let's go to bed, yeah? Curl up with me.

[After they brushed their teeth and settled in, Zhao pulled Joon-gi in toward his chest, holding him fiercely.]

I'm here. And I'm not leaving.

[joongipan]

[ He wasn't certain whether Zhao was joking or not, and part of him didn't want to know. But Zhao was right about one thing: Joon-gi was both ready and willing to kill anyone who threatened his loved ones.

But he hoped that it would never come to that, especially now that Zhao had stepped down as the leader of the Yokohama Liumang. He wasn't a threat to anyone. Not anymore.

Joon-gi tried not to let that morbid thought show on his face as he smiled serenely. ]

If you let me sleep through the alarm again, I will sleep on the couch with Chun-Li, just to make sure I get a turn feeding her!

[ He hoped that light-hearted threat would be enough to dissuade Zhao from resorting to any underhanded tactics.

The mood certainly felt lighter as the two of them got ready for bed. As soon as Joon-gi slid beneath the sheets, he felt Zhao reach for him, cradling him close. Joon-gi nestled against him and slipped one hand between the press of their bodies, to rest against the space over Zhao's heart. He could feel it beating strong and steady beneath his fingertips, and it was a comfort to have him so close; to feel his arms wrapped around him so tightly, and to hear those words spoken with such surety.

What Zhao said before was true: neither of them could predict the future. But Joon-gi could trust that Zhao would keep his promise, if only for this one night.

And, maybe, the night after that. And the next one, and the next... ]

I know. [ He mumbled against Zhao's chest. ] You made a promise, and I'm going to hold you to it.

[ He lapsed into silence, listening to the distant sounds of the city. He might simply have left it at that, but Joon-gi decided that he didn't want to keep this particular thought all to himself. ]

I love you. I know I don't say it as often as I should, but I just wanted you to know.

[ He could say it now, enveloped as they were in the darkness, with no one else to hear them. It felt safe to speak the words, and to believe that by doing so, he wouldn't be inviting misfortune.

Joon-gi pressed a soft kiss to Zhao's mouth and then closed his eyes, feeling safe and secure in the cradle of his lover's arms. ]