Domestic Orufrey Ficlet (824 words)
The kitchen was warm, with thick steam slowly being siphoned off by the vapor bubble. Fried fish lay in nests atop spiraled radishes and sword carrots, all surrounded by a lush broth. Even the scent of seaweed didn't stop Olruggio's mouth from watering. Qifrey had been putting far too much effort into their meals lately and he knew he needed to spend more time in the kitchen. Feeding six mouths turned out not to be so different from five, but the work still added up. The excuse of "deadlines" was thin on Olruggio's tongue and he kept himself from saying it.
"I know you've been busy," Qifrey had said, stealing the words from his lips. "We'd have to eat either way."
"Let me put it together, at least," he'd argued, physically guiding Qifrey out of the kitchen.
It took him longer than it should have to portion the meals and stack them neatly - the girls ate better when their food looked as good as it tasted. Even if the excuse bothered him, it was true enough. His most recent commission had eaten through time and his mental resources. Sleep slipped through his fingers until the sun poured into the atelier and it was too late to try again.
Though his eyes were sandy and his feet felt weighted, it was worth it to spend a few minutes with Qifrey and the girls. He could hear them, a crescendo of raucous voices toppling over each other like the bubbles in a river. Occasionally, a smooth, calm arrested them. Qifrey's voice was the most familiar thing to Olruggio and it nestled sweetly in the back of his mind.
They bolstered his will and with a deep breath stacked the bowls across his arms as they used to in the great mess hall and swept over to the table. His greeting was a chorus of "oohs".
"It smells so delicious in here!" Tetia exclaimed, her eyes luminous as she looked down at their meal. "And it looks so pretty, too!"
"Ya better thank Qifrey for it," Olruggio told them as he finished settling the girl's dishes on the table.
"Thank you, Master Qifrey!" At least three of them replied in unison. It was Agott who held her tongue, speaking only when the others had finished.
"Yes, thank you," she murmured, her tone prim. Always acting like a little adult, she was.
"Well, then," Qifrey murmured, "you'd best thank Olruggio for serving it up so beautifully." He looked Olruggio directly in the face, ensuring he knew it was a gentle taunt.
"Thank you, Master Olruggio!" The kids completed and Olruggio sighed, not taking his eyes from Qifrey.
"Thank you for serving, Olly," Qifrey said in response, a slight smile cresting his lips.
"Yeah, yeah," Olly agreed, his huff dampened by exhaustion. He dropped his own dish on the table and leaned to place Qifrey's in front of him. It was a brief moment where they were close, Qifrey's smile still kind, and Olruggio turned to touch his lips to Qifrey's cheek. His skin was cool and soft like the moon's glow. "Thanks for making dinner." He offered, noticing a moment too late that the words filled a sudden void.
Then he froze. The air was a breath held tight and his own whole body bristled as he finally thought to look back at Qifrey. His friend, too, was still, brows raised high, the slightest dusting of pink high on his face.
"Was that..?" Coco asked, voice small across the table. She was still learning to keep things to herself.
"Yes, it was," Richeh told her bluntly. And some would chose to never learn.
What had he just done? It must have been the exhaustion. The bone deep weariness that crept like a shrill siren into his head. He hadn't done something so harebrained in more years than he cared to imagine. Since before they'd started the atelier, perhaps. Years since he'd last lay his lips to Qifrey's skin and it went the same every time.
"I'm so - " Sorry, he began to say, but Qifrey cut him off. His mouth turned into a broad grin that tilted up the corners of his eyes.
"You are welcome," he replied, each syllable more exaggerated than it needed to be. "Olly's latest commission has kept him up all hours of the night." As though that explained it. Maybe it did. The girls murmured and it was Olruggio's turn. With one last look, too long to be reasonable, he put on a grin of his own, chagrined.
"It's really got me," he agreed. "Know your limits kids."
It wasn't much, but it was enough. Though the girls took turns eyeing them suspiciously, they were all too happy to return to dinner and Olly couldn't help himself, either. His own gaze flitted off and on to Qifrey. It tightened something sharp in his chest, something aching and familiar, to see Qifrey's fingers flutter over the spot his lips had landed.
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