Work Text:
It’s a Monday evening when Till texts Ivan to say he’ll be home late. Ivan knows Till’s moods like the back of his hand. Today being a Monday automatically means it’s a horrible day for Till. Combined with the extra work, he’s bound to return home grumpy and sleepy. He’ll probably barely cook himself a meal and curse out the microwave before he crashes into bed.
Ivan hates it when Till doesn’t take care of himself, so, like the good roommate he is, he decides to cook Till a meal. They have the ingredients for some japchae in their fridge and pantry, so Ivan washes and cuts up some carrots, red bell peppers, zucchini, and yellow onion. He blanches the spinach and makes a marinade, some of which he puts on the mushroom slices. Then, he gets to work on the noodles, cooking them before putting the remaining marinade on them. He cooks the vegetables and makes an egg.
Just as he’s piling all the ingredients into a bowl together, he hears the lock click and the door swing open on its hinges. Till comes into the kitchen looking somewhat like a zombie. He must’ve dropped his bag and jacket somewhere in the hallway. Ivan will pick them up later after Till goes to bed.
He plates the food and brings it over to Till. Immediately, his tired eyes are drawn to the food. He eyes it like a starved man and takes the plate and fork from Ivan’s hands. He eats it in silence without so much as a thank you, but Ivan doesn’t mind. He knows Till is tired. He eats a bowl of the japchae as he watches Till eat his meal.
He’s right about his assumption; right after he finishes eating, Till goes to get ready for bed. He’s been quiet this whole time, grey hair rumpled and teal eyes half closed with exhaustion. At least this time he changes into proper pajamas before going to sleep. In Ivan’s books, it’s certainly a win.
About a year later, Till forgets to make a lunch. Ivan and Till have become closer over time, but they’re still in a weird sort of limbo where they both obviously like each other but haven’t said anything about it.
When Ivan discovers Till’s usual dosirak-tong in the cupboard it’s normally in, he notices the lack of dirty dishes and concludes that Till forgot his lunch. He checks the time. Till typically takes his lunch break at noon, and it’s currently ten-thirty. He has an hour and a half to make and deliver his lunch.
He sets to work immediately, putting rice in the rice cooker. He stir-fries some kimchi in a pan with onion, vegetable oil, sugar, gochujang, and toasted sesame oil. Then, he gives two sausages an egg wash and fries them in a pan. In that same pan, he fries an egg, too. By the time he’s finished prepping and cooking those, the rice is nearly done. He takes it out of the rice cooker to let it cool a bit.
Ivan spends some amount of time on the presentation. He layers the bottom with rice and puts slices of sausage on the left and the stir-fried kimchi on the right. In the middle, he lays a thin bed of shredded seaweed and places the egg on top. He closes the lid on the dosirak-tong and grabs it, ready to be on his way.
Till’s workplace isn’t a very far walk from their home. Ivan walks there in thirty minutes, though he does so at a brisk pace. When he gets there, he goes immediately to the receptionist.
“I have Till’s lunch,” he says. “From department three.” He glances at the clock, It’s eleven-fifty, so he’s right on time. He hands the container to the receptionist. Right when he’s about to leave, however, he notices a notepad from the corner of his eye. He turns right back around and scribbles something on a note on the top before folding it and placing it on the container that’s still in the receptionist’s hand. “That, too,” he says. He really does leave this time.
Later, he gets a simple “
thank you
” text from Till. Neither says anything about the note Ivan left for him.
You forgot to make this <3 –Ivan
Two years after Ivan and Till get together, they’re lazing around in bed when Till brings something up. They’ve been exchanging soft, languid kisses all evening after Till returned home from work. Between them, Till says, “We haven’t gone on a proper date in a while.”
Ivan pauses for a moment to ponder it. It really has been quite a while. Till had been busy with his new job as a tattoo artist and Ivan has been busy with his songwriting. It’s not for a lack of love, though.
“We make out all the time, though,” Ivan says with a tiny grin, leaning in to kiss Till again and prove his point.
Till covers Ivan’s mouth with his hand before their lips meet. “That’s not what I mean.” Till feigns exasperation with his tone, though he knows Ivan well enough to tell that he’s perfectly aware of what Till means.
“We will soon,” Ivan promises, and Till seems satisfied with that answer. Ivan’s smile widens as he pulls Till’s hand away from his mouth and moves so that his lips replace it.
Later that evening, when Till falls asleep, Ivan sneaks out of bed and to the kitchen. Till is sleeping, so he’s careful not to make any especially loud noises. Still, he has a bit of leeway since Till sleeps like a log.
He prepares a number of side dishes for them along with bulgogi for the main dish. He uses a fast delivery service to have a small bouquet of flowers delivered for them. There’s red carnations with a sprinkle of baby’s breath mixed in. Then, he puts them in a vase and sets the table with silverware, dishes, and a candle. He turns the lights down low to create a romantic atmosphere and finally makes his way upstairs to wake Till.
“It’s time to get up,” he says, lightly shaking Till’s shoulder.
Till groans and rolls over in bed. “Five more minutes,” he grumbles.
“Dinner is ready, baby,” Ivan says, trying his best to coax Till awake. The mention of food works rather well, and within a few minutes Ivan is leading Till toward the dining room.
When Till sees the spread, he stops in his tracks and simply stares. Ivan turns around as soon as he notices his boyfriend has stopped. “For us?” Till asks in a soft whisper. His eyes are wide, teal on full display, and he looks like he might cry. He hopes they’re tears of joy.
“For us,” Ivan confirms with a soft smile. Till turns toward Ivan and bolts forward with his arms open, encircling Ivan in his arms in seconds. Ivan looks down at the grey locks of his hair. He can’t see Till’s face; it’s buried into Ivan’s chest.
“Thank you,” Till says, and Ivan can tell from the waver in his voice just how moved he is by this. “It means a lot, ‘van.” Ivan peppers Till’s face with kisses: his nose, forehead, cheeks, and lips are all subjected to at least two kisses each. He waits patiently for Till to calm down a bit.
When Till pulls away, Ivan places a hand on the small of his back and guides him toward the table.
“Thank you,” Till says again before they start eating. It’s not necessary, though. For Ivan, seeing Till’s smiling face is thanks enough.