The kitchen was unusually warm this morning, filled with the rich scent of something unexpectedly delicious. Soft steam curled through the air, mingling with the early sunlight filtering in through the wooden shutters.
Mr. Dand paused in the doorway, eyebrows lifting at the sight before him.
Artur.
In the kitchen.
Cooking.
He had seen many things in his lifetime—storms that shook the village, strangers lost on the shore—but his son voluntarily making breakfast? That was new.
Artur stood by the stove, stirring a pot with a focus that looked… almost out of place. The sizzling sound of eggs frying filled the room, and the scent of broth-heavy noodles teased the air.
Mr. Dand took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma. Alright, he admitted to himself. It does smell good.
"Well, that's a surprise," he finally spoke, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "Smells good, but let's hope it's actually edible."
Artur turned, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Good morning to you too, old man."
"Morning," Mr. Dand muttered, making his way to the dining table. His sharp gaze swept over his son—there was something different about him today.
Cheerful.
Relaxed.
…Suspiciously cheerful.
But he said nothing, merely settling into his seat and waiting for the food.
A few moments later, footsteps approached.
Billy.
He stepped into the kitchen, hair slightly tousled from sleep, his usual composed expression soft with morning drowsiness. His eyes landed on Artur at the stove, and he blinked in mild surprise.
"Morning, Mr. Dand," Billy greeted first.
"Morning," Mr. Dand replied, watching as Billy's gaze drifted back to Artur.
Billy hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. "Need help?"
Artur glanced over his shoulder, stirring the pot one last time before shaking his head. "Nah. It's done. Just sit."
"Billy raised a brow, but he slid into the seat across from Mr. Dand without protest."
Then Artur brought the food.
Three bowls of steaming noodles, the golden sheen of egg yolk resting on top of each portion. It looked simple, but the smell was rich and comforting.
Billy barely had time to react before Artur placed a bowl in front of him—a different one.
His portion was slightly larger. And instead of one egg, there were two.
Billy's eyes flickered to Artur in silent question.
Artur just smiled. Casual. As if this was normal.
But Mr. Dand noticed.
"Oh?" he mused, picking up his chopsticks. "That's odd."
Billy stiffened. His chopsticks hovered mid-air. Oh no.
"You usually keep the extra egg for yourself," Mr. Dand continued, grabbing a bite of noodles. "But today, you're sharing?"
Artur, completely unfazed, grabbed his own chopsticks and shrugged. "Billy deserves it."
Billy's fingers tightened around his chopsticks, heat creeping up his neck. Artur, what are you doing?
Mr. Dand let out a low hum, but he didn't press. Instead, he focused on eating, quickly slurping down the broth.
Meanwhile, Artur leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table as he slid a small cup toward Billy.
"Here."
Billy glanced down.
Tea.
He hadn't even noticed Artur brewing it.
Billy slowly picked up the cup, fingers brushing against Artur's in the process. It was brief, barely a touch, but Artur didn't pull away immediately. His fingers lingered, warm against Billy's skin for just a second longer than necessary.
Billy swallowed.
His heart picked up speed, thudding in his chest.
Not because of the touch.
Not because of the extra egg.
"But because Artur was being so obvious—like he didn't care that Mr. Dand was sitting right there."
Billy shot him a look. A silent warning.
Be careful.
Artur, of course, just smirked.
"Where's mine?" Mr. Dand suddenly asked.
Billy nearly choked on his tea.
Artur blinked. "Huh?"
"Tea," Mr. Dand clarified. "You made some for Billy. Where's mine?"
Billy stared at Artur, waiting to see how he'd handle that.
Artur shrugged again, sipping his own tea. "I forgot."
Billy nearly dropped his cup.
Mr. Dand narrowed his eyes but let out a short laugh. "Unbelievable," he muttered, finishing his food quickly.
There was a brief silence as they ate, Billy focusing very hard on his noodles to ignore the way Artur kept sneaking glances at him.
Then, Mr. Dand leaned back in his chair and exhaled. "Alright. I have to head out."
Billy almost sighed in relief.
Mr. Dand stood, adjusting his coat. "You two have any work today?"
Billy hesitated. He didn't know the answer to that. He glanced at Artur, waiting for him to respond.
Artur stretched lazily. "No, actually."
"Good." Mr. Dand grabbed his hat. "If you're free, Mrs. Elizabeth needs help at her shop. You can go if you want."
Billy nodded. "We'll go."
Artur didn't argue, just smirked. "Sure."
Mr. Dand gave them both a last, lingering look—knowing but unsaid—before heading out the door.
The moment it shut behind him, Billy let out a breath.
Finally, alone.
Billy turned to Artur, exasperation flickering in his eyes. "You—"
"What?" Artur cut in, voice too smooth.
"You're ridiculous," Billy muttered.
"And yet…" Artur's grin widened. "You like it."
Billy groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
Artur just laughed, nudging his foot under the table.
It was going to be an interesting day.
The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Mr. Dand, leaving only the soft hum of the morning breeze drifting through the open window.
Billy exhaled slowly, setting down his chopsticks. His bowl was mostly empty, but the warmth of Artur's presence across from him still lingered.
Artur, of course, wasn't done yet.
Still sitting back in his chair, he sipped his tea in a way that could only be described as smug. The easy curve of his lips, the satisfied gleam in his eyes—he was enjoying this way too much.
Billy glanced at him, then quickly looked away, his fingers tightening around his cup.
"Alright," he muttered, voice half-exasperated. "You win."
Artur raised a brow. "Win what?"
Billy shot him a flat look. "I don't know—whatever game you're playing."
Artur let out a low chuckle, setting his tea down. "No games. Just breakfast."
Billy huffed, leaning back in his chair. "Right."
Artur smirked, stretching his arms behind his head. "So… how was it?"
Billy blinked. "How was what?"
"The breakfast shared together," Artur teased. "Made by me. Special treatment included."
Billy stared at him. Then, with a deliberate pause, he picked up his cup and took a slow sip, as if thinking.
"…It was edible," he finally said.
"Artur clutched his chest in mock offense. 'Edible?'
Billy took another sip, unfazed. 'Better than expected.'
'You wound me, truly.'"
Billy let out a small laugh despite himself. Why was Artur like this?
Artur leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on one hand, watching Billy with that same amused glint.
Billy tried not to notice how easily Artur could make moments feel so natural. So comfortable.
"…You're acting weird again," Billy mumbled, tapping his fingers against his cup.
Artur tilted his head. "How?"
Billy hesitated. Too obvious.
The way Artur was looking at him. The way his presence filled the space—casual, easygoing, but focused.
Like he was enjoying just being here with Billy.
Billy glanced away. "…Never mind."
A quiet chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Billy sighed, shaking his head, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
A peaceful moment stretched between them, the house settling into the quiet hum of the morning. The faint scent of tea lingered in the air, and the warmth of their shared breakfast still clung to the atmosphere.
Billy finally stood, gathering the bowls. "Let's clean up."
Artur stretched lazily but didn't move. "I cooked."
Billy raised a brow. "So?"
"So," Artur grinned, "you should do the dishes."
Billy scoffed. "That's not how it works."
Artur leaned back in his chair. "It is in my book."
Billy rolled his eyes but turned toward the sink anyway, stacking the bowls. The quiet sound of water filled the space as he started rinsing.
Artur watched for a moment, then—as if he couldn't help himself—stood and wandered over, stopping just behind Billy.
Billy didn't look up, but he could feel him there.
Close.
Too close.
He reached past Billy—deliberately slow—grabbing a cup from the counter.
Billy froze, the warmth of Artur's arm brushing against his for the briefest second.
Artur smirked. "Relax."
Billy's grip on the plate tightened slightly. "…You're hovering."
"I'm standing."
"You're hovering."
Artur chuckled. "If I was hovering, I'd be—" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down Billy's spine—"this close."
Billy's breath caught.
He turned his head, only to find Artur already right there, grinning like he wasn't causing trouble on purpose.
Billy narrowed his eyes. "You're annoying."
Artur hummed. "But charming Right."
Billy bit the inside of his cheek, trying very hard not to smile. "That's debatable."
"Mm." Artur tapped his fingers against the counter. "Still here, though."
Billy sighed, returning to the dishes. "…Unfortunately."
Artur laughed softly, stepping back just enough to give Billy space, but the air between them was still warm.
Still different.
For the first time in a long while, Billy liked the quiet.
The way Artur lingered, the teasing ease in his voice, the way the morning felt soft despite everything—
It felt too easy.
Too good.
And that scared him.
Just a little.
But not enough to pull away.
Not yet.
Not quite.