summary: a simple day, just the two of them, amidst their busy lives, that's all he really ever wanted.
tags: domestic fluff, normal life, slice of life, all caleb wants is happiness, what does it really mean being normal
AO3 link 🔗 | masterlist 📝
It hadn’t been common lately for Caleb to be able to come to Linkon City often, so that day was almost like a special event for both of them.
Already that morning she had busied herself in the kitchen—apple peels, eggshells, flour everywhere—intent on preparing something for the day.
Knowing he was coming back from a long and rather demanding mission, she had decided that, just this once, she would be the one taking care of everything—cooking and all the rest.
After all, she was no longer the little girl who needed to be taken care of.
She took out from an old box the recipe for the apple pie Josephine used to bake so often at home, the one that had ended up becoming her, but especially Caleb’s favorite.
Fortunately, she had brought it to her apartment when she’d moved out on her own, and by doing so it hadn’t been destroyed in the explosion.
It had been months since she’d last eaten it; it would have been a nice surprise for him too, she thought.
She put on some music and, while she hummed quietly along with the tune, she began gathering and weighing the main ingredients.
Within an hour, an inviting scent had spread throughout the apartment, instantly bringing back memories of a not-too-distant but happy past.
Back then, Josephine would involve them while baking the pie; Caleb would take care of cutting the apples (being older, he’d taken on the responsibility so she wouldn’t cut herself), while she stirred the batter clumsily with a wooden spoon.
Once it was out of the oven, they’d dust it with powdered sugar, always making a mess—on their clothes, their faces, the kitchen table, the floor.
She had just finished decorating the pie when the intercom rang, revealing on the screen a figure waiting on the other side of the door.
She wiped the flour from her hands and hurried to open it, but before she could even mumble a greeting, she found herself holding a fragrant bouquet of lily-of-the-valley tied with an orange ribbon.
“...don’t you think it’s weird making me thank you before I even get to greet you and welcome you back?”
“Maaaybe you’re right. My bad, I guess I was too impatient to see your reaction, and my greeting was implied. But if we’re sticking to formalities, then…”
Holding the bouquet in one hand, she stood on tiptoe, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him with a smile.
“Welcome back, Caleb. And thank you...for both things.”
Entering the apartment, Caleb dropped his duffel bag on the couch, stretching slightly as if he’d just returned from a long journey—and judging by the darker-than-usual bags under his eyes, he had.
“You came straight from your mission…?”
Hearing the trace of worry in her voice, he smiled, clearly trying to reassure her immediately.
“Everything’s fine, I’m not that tired. I’ve had longer missions without sleep. It takes more than that to take me down, you know.”
She could only sigh, rolling her eyes slightly at his usual attempt to downplay things.
But this time she wouldn’t argue—not after all the time they’d spent apart.
Moments like this had become rare lately, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste it scolding him like an overprotective mother lecturing her reckless teenage son.
“…let’s forget it. Anyway…”
With a quick hop she positioned herself behind the kitchen table, pointing a spoon at him with a mischievous smile.
“…this time you get to taste my cooking. I did my best, so I hope the famous, multi-award-winning chef Caleb—awarded by yours truly—will be merciful with a beginner cook.”
Caleb laughed at the little scene, immediately playing along with the role of chef and food critic she’d assigned him.
“Well well, Miss Chef. I hope you’re ready for my completely honest and absolutely unbiased judgment then. I shall be very strict and direct.”
Lunch was simple—nothing impressive compared to the meals Caleb had spoiled her with ever since they were kids.
However, his very first cooking attempt had been far from a success, and even now she could taste the bitter flavor of the burnt eggs he had served her.
“Remember the first time you cooked for me?”
Caleb froze with his fork mid-air, sighing as soon as he realized she was bringing up *that* story again.
“You’re still bringing that up? How long do I have to pay for that crime and stain on my culinary résumé?”
She laughed as she kept eating, amused by his expression somewhere between offended and entertained.
“Sorry, I just can’t help thinking about it whenever I cook eggs. Are mine really that terrible too?”
Each of them had two fried eggs on their plates, with a simple side of seasonal vegetables—nothing fancy.
Caleb finally brought the fork to his mouth, biting into the egg.
“Actually, they’re not bad. You’d have to try really hard to do worse than I did back then.”
“I could’ve paid you homage… or taken revenge for that time, but I don’t think your stomach would’ve appreciated it.”
“You’ll have other chances to poison me. For today I’m happy staying alive and enjoying the day. Maybe next time, little chef.”
Once they finished the main course, she took the apple pie out of the oven and set it triumphantly on the table.
The mere appearance was exactly the ones Grandma used to make, and she couldn't help but grin happily at the view of it.
“It didn’t collapse! What do you think?”
Caleb leaned forward to inspect the pie and inhale the scent of the still-warm pastry.
“Not bad. I feel like I can even smell—”
“Cinnamon. I didn’t forget it.”
“Someone paid attention to my cooking lessons, I see. Or you’re a very good recipe thief.”
“Is that a complaint I hear?”
“Not at all. Now we just need to see if the student surpassed the master. Though seeing a pie that’s neither burnt nor raw is already a great start.”
“Apparently having you here brings luck to my cooking skills. You should come more often—for the sake of my desserts, I mean.”
“Got it. Relegated to the role of dessert protector. Copy that.”
Turning around, she grabbed a packet of powdered sugar and a sieve from the pantry.
“Remember? That was my favorite part when making the pie with you and Grandma.”
“You mean covering the kitchen in white powder and making a mess? Oh, I bet. You weren’t the one cleaning afterward.”
“That’s unfair, you used to make a mess too at first.”
“Only on my first attempts though, not every time like you.”
“Just eat!” she shot back, grabbing a warm slice of pie and pushing a piece into his mouth.
Caught slightly off guard, Caleb protested with his mouth full while she kept gently pushing more pieces in.
“Shtwop— it’s ghw-ood— it’s goo—!”
“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you. You know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full? At least that’s what someone used to tell me constantly when I was a kid. Don’t you agree?”
"Still can't hear you..."
Realizing maybe she was overdoing it, she gave him an apologetic look, as she stepped a bit back.
“You’re right, sorry.” she said softly, clearing her voice then brushing crumbs from the corner of his lips with her thumb.
“First you cause trouble, then you try to fix it with that innocent face. Typical you.”
Caleb chuckled, poking her side playfully.
She squealed in surprise, flinching. That’s when he noticed her shirt was still lightly dusted with powdered sugar, just like years ago.
“Well, some things never change, it seems.”
Caleb brushed a bit of sugar off his shirt and dabbed it on the tip of her nose with his finger, then looked at her with a gentle smile.
“It feels like we’re back to those afternoons at home years ago. Thank you.”
Caleb's expression was warm, soft. It had been a while since she'd seen that look on him, and her heart couldn't help but feel the same warmth.
That soft look he had as a boy, when his purple eyes would narrow slightly, while his lips, dry even then, would curve upward, a hint of redness on his cheeks that highlighted his freckles.
It felt like she had before her not the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, but only Caleb.
If she could have frozen time, perhaps she would have done it in that moment, with the two of them in that kitchen, illuminated by the soft rays of the sun filtering through the windows, while he laughed carefree, as if nothing existed but the two of them within those four walls.
The rest of the afternoon passed in an ordinary, peaceful way, on a typical autumn day.
After a short walk through avenues lined with trees full of red and golden leaves, to pick up a few groceries for the evening, they had stopped by an old toy shop where Caleb had found a wooden model airplane to assemble.
Once they returned home, they prepared a quick snack, and sitting at the small table in the living room, they spent the afternoon putting the wooden model together while watching an old movie on TV that they had often seen when they were little.
It was the story of two friends who had grown up together through the adventures and struggles typical of youth, who then became adults with different dreams and ambitions, finding each other again once they were grown.
The boy in the movie had so many dreams, yet he gave up everything to be with her.
Was he happy with his choice? Or did he have some regrets for not following his dreams? Or had she always been his true dream?
Perhaps it was just the nostalgia stirred by the film, yet she felt as though it spoke to her in a more intimate way after all those years.
And as she watched Caleb, focused on his model while listening to the movie, she wondered if he felt the same.
That evening, Caleb insisted on taking the turn in the kitchen, using the excuse that he would cook her favorite dish to thank her for her hospitality.
“You had enough fun taking my place in the kitchen at lunch, now it’s time to restore order,” he had said, putting on an apron far too small for him, earning a few hidden giggles from her.
Not that she could complain—quite the opposite.
Eating his braised chicken wings was a bite of nostalgia mixed with happiness, a dive into the past that made her taste buds ecstatic.
Maybe she would leave the apron to him next time too.
With the table set for two in the cozy, intimate atmosphere of the kitchen, it looked like a normal evening between a long-time couple.
Was this how all those couples they had seen at the supermarket that afternoon felt?
Young and middle-aged couples shopping together as if it were more an opportunity to spend time together than a mere chore, or like a scene from the movie they had watched a few hours earlier.
In the last year, before his return, she had found herself eating alone in that kitchen, trying to recreate his dishes with fair success, yet always feeling like something was missing.
As they ate, she stole glances at him, watching his serene expression as he moved around the kitchen.
She wondered if he had felt the same, if he had longed for a day like this just as much as she had—full of domesticity and companionship.
Or perhaps his mind was elsewhere, on duties waiting for him miles above sea level, on that island among the clouds.
Caleb’s mind and his secrets were still a mystery to her.
When it was time to go to sleep, Caleb started getting ready to stay on the couch as he had on previous nights, but she grabbed the hem of his pajamas and dragged him toward the bedroom.
That man had suffered enough on her small couch; she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make him endure that torture again.
Besides, she needed to feel him close at least one more night, before their commitments could pull them apart again for who-knew-how-long.
In the darkness of the room, lying face-to-face, their hands searched for each other, eager to feel that familiar, reassuring warmth.
Gentle caresses, a few kisses, laughter as they rested in each other’s arms, talking about whatever came to mind.
And yet, despite the almost idyllic and peaceful atmosphere, her mind couldn’t stop circling back to the question that had been buzzing in her head all day.
“What's wrong?” he asked softly, brushing the arm she had wrapped around his waist.
Of course he had noticed—he knew her like the back of his hand. She could never hide anything from him, unlike him from her.
“Have you ever wondered what you really want in of your life?”
At the question, Caleb’s fingers stilled on her arm, as though she had asked him the most difficult and at the same time most obvious question of his life.
What did he really want in his life?
A strange question, considering that the answer was exactly in his arms at that very moment.
He asked in return, almost to buy time.
“Once you said your dream was to become a pilot, travel, see new places… discover the world. But time has passed; maybe your dreams have changed.
She wasn’t wrong—that had indeed been his dream for so long, and he had even managed to make it come true.
But now, in a way, that dream had become a bit of a prison, turned into something different and far less… free.
His DAA aircraft had turned into the one belonging to the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and while anyone else might have seen that as an upgrade, to him that winged hunk of metal that had once symbolized freedom had turned into a birdcage.
he finally answered, his thumb gently stroking her arm again.
“No secrets, remember?” her voice reached his ears.
Caleb smiled at the conspiratorial tone and at the phrase that once belonged to their childhood, but had now turned into a more adult promise.
“No secrets. In fact, I thought I had been pretty clear.”
“Mmm… I don’t think so. Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Or maybe you already know and just want to hear me say it. What a sly pipsqueak.”
“Maybe. That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re not answering me.”
Caleb paused again, unconsciously taking in a deeper breath, then set his eyes on her.
“What’s that supposed to mean…?”
“What I want. Nothing. Nothing complicated, just…normality. To be normal people.”
She looked back at him, searching his eyes for a deeper meaning behind those words.
“Is that how you’d define a colonel with a bionic arm, a woman with Anhausen-Class Evol abilities and an Aether Core, two former esp—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Yes, you have a point, but… those things are part of us. Without them, we wouldn’t really be ‘us’.”
“I know, but I still can’t help thinking about it. I just want to know what it feels like to be what people consider normal. A simple life, maybe even a boring one. I just want to know what that feels like sometimes.”
"How it feels like holding the person you love whenever you want. Being able to be with her without feeling scared, or guilty, without a gnawing feeling to the heart. To kiss her goodnight everyday, making love to her everyday, whispering her gentle words to help her fall asleep in my arms every night. To dream of a serene future together, without the fear of having her taken away from me."
Caleb fell silent once more, absent-mindedly stroking her arm again.
“Do you think somewhere in the cosmos… somewhere there’s a version of us that’s happy?”
“Aren’t you happy, Caleb?”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant…I guess I am, really. Since you found me again, I am. But… it’s like deep down I keep hoping there’s a version of us out there that doesn’t have to worry about anything. That can be… normal, however you define it.”
Gently, she cupped his face between her fingers, turning him toward her as her eyes settled on him—the same warm, familiar color as always.
“I like not being "normal". I like it, as long as it means being it with you, as long as it means I can have you here with me."
Her tone was sure, as if she wanted him to believe the same.
"And if there’s some version of us out there in the cosmos, boring, perfect, and normal… maybe they’re wondering if there’s a version of them with a hectic life, always on edge and uncertain, but happy.”
Her hand slid from his cheek to his chest, pressing over his heart, the cool metal of his necklace between their skin.
“And the answer is yes. If we’re not the normal ones, we’ll make our own normal. As long as we’re together, we can do that, right?”
Caleb’s chapped lips curved into the faintest smile.
“I like it when you’re the optimistic one.”
They stayed silent for a moment, his fingers tenderly caressing her face.
“And in your ‘normal’ life, what would you want to do?”
“Yes, I mean what a typical day would look like for you. I imagine you’ve thought about it.”
Caleb shifted slightly on the bed, holding her gently against him as he searched for her eyes in the darkness.
“Wellll...In the morning I’d leave the shutters open, so we could wake up with the sunlight whenever we feel like it. No alarms involved. I’d probably wake up first, while you’d still be asleep, mouth open, drooling between me and the pillow.”
“Then I’d try waking you softly, whispering, but that never worked, even when we were kids. So I’d have to resort to my old method—tickling you. You’d wake up startled and start protesting, trying to hit me and failing miserably.”
“I refuse to believe you’d be a terrible person even in your dreams.”
“Since your wake-up wouldn’t be very pleasant, I’d have to make up for it. So I’d try kissing you, but you’d turn your head back to the pillow to sleep. Soooo… I’d have to appeal to your stomach.”
“Whatever you want. As long as it’s warm, freshly made, and—most importantly—made by me.”
“Then I’d smell it all the way to the bedroom and come to you in the kitchen.”
“I’d pretend not to hear you coming, just to feel your surprise attack from behind as you cling to me.”
“And I’d stay glued to you until you finish cooking, then I’d help set the table.”
“We’d have breakfast together while you tell me what you dreamed about. And if you had nightmares, I’d promise to hold you a little tighter the next night.”
As he said it, he instinctively pulled her a little closer.
“Then we’d get ready in the bathroom, arguing over who gets to shower first because you’re scared the hot water will run out. Then we’d go to work—whatever that may be, I don’t care. And afterward, I’d come pick you up, so we could go home together.”
“…but you’d complain you want to do something together after work. So we’d go to the movies, to the arcade, take a walk, get pizza and eat it sitting at the city overlook spot, or go to the amusement park. Or just stay at home and do something together. Wherever you want, I’d take you.”
“That’s better. And in the evening…”
“I’d cook your favorite dish, even if you’d already had those chicken wings multiple times that week, but the way your face lights up when you eat them would always be reason enough to make them again.”
“That sounds like a dream.”
“Afterwards, we’d get ready for bed. But first we’d stay there talking about whatever crosses your mind, like we always used to. Then you’d start getting sleepy, so I’d tuck you into my arms, as comfortable as possible, and I’d stroke your hair until you drift off. And once you’re asleep, I’d kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, very gently, and I’d wish you sweet dreams.”
In the dark, she smiled with deep affection, gently cupping his cheek.
“Dummy, did you notice you basically described today? Or was that intentional?”
“I want a thousand days like this, normal, ‘boring’ but ours in our own way. I want to reset every night and relive a day like this, without thinking about anything else.”
She wanted that too, truly.
Maybe if they went somewhere else, far from everyone, finding a place just for them where nothing from their past and present could follow them, leaving behind the pain and every bitter memory, they could be happy.
But their tone, instead of being dreamy and carefree at the thought, was almost sad, resigned.
The tone of someone who wants to believe in a utopia, in a bright, happy world like children do, but knows reality is different.
The tone of someone who, even while longing for a happy ending, knows from experience that life isn’t always like that—yet still keeps, tucked somewhere safe inside, a little hope.
“One day. I want to believe that.”
“And what if that day comes when we’re older, when we have gray hair, when walking feels like a challenge?”
“You can always use your Evol as a cane, and I’ll keep you steady by holding your arm.”
“If you’re there, it definitely will be.”
They both smiled at the thought, their fingers intertwined against his cheek.
Maybe one day things would be that way.
Maybe far in the future, maybe not.
Maybe that desire for normalcy would become reality—but no one could say for sure.
The only certain thing was each other’s presence, anchoring them to that world and that life, however far from normal it might be.
And if fate had other plans for them, they would build their own future, rewriting what normal meant for them.
A gentle kiss landed on her forehead as Caleb’s fingers stroked her hair.
“Our day as normal people has come to an end.”
“And what if I don’t want it to end?”
“Every day must come to an end. But I hope that next time I’m here, we can live it all over again.”
“Same movie in the afternoon?”
“I think I already know it by heart, but yes… the same movie would be fine.”
Another kiss landed on the tip of her nose, making her smile as she closed her eyes halfway.
“Then… see you again, ‘normal’ Caleb.”
“Of course. Now...just rest, okay?”
She nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head beside his, their joined hands settling between them.
One last soft kiss brushed against her lips, reluctant to end—as if trying to stretch out the quiet magic of that day a little longer.
“Sweet dreams. Goodnight.”
