Chapter Text
A/N: This is my first fic for the KongArt Spark Prompt. It is based on the picture below. This story is set in my Of Tales Old and New universe, but you don't need to read that to understand this. It's still pretty much follows canon.
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A set of jingling keys could be heard even inside the small space of the apartment. He looked at the unopened door then back at the still simmering pot in front of him and continued to ladle the food on the white bowl. He scooped mushrooms and shrimps into the ceramic, careful to prevent himself from getting splashed with the hot liquid. He could smell the aroma from the food he cooked, making his mouth water. Sadly, he could only look, smell, and taste just a little bit of it.
“I’m home,” came the tired voice of his fiancé from the door. “Oh? Did you order takeout? It smells heavenly in here.”
“Actually…” he said hesitantly.
“No. Did you cook?! Oh my god, my kitchen!”
The exclamation was followed by thundering footsteps and he felt a pang of disappointment and hurt that his fiancé still didn’t trust him with this. He put the ladle back on the pot and grabbed a tissue, silently wiping the splashes of liquid on the rim of the bowl.
On his periphery, he could see his P’Arthit at the entrance to the kitchen created by the parallel counters. He ignored him, still simmering in his hurt, and continued to clean up the mess he created when he had been cooking. He could sense the wariness from Arthit as he slowly approached him.
When he turned around, having had no more excuse to address the other since he was not a messy cook, he caught his Phi looking around, seemingly checking if things were still the same as they were before, and not… burned. The older really didn’t trust him in the kitchen and he felt as if the knife he had used to chop up the ingredients was stabbed into his heart and got twisted. He didn’t know if he was being overly dramatic seeing that he had a past of nearly burning the other’s apartment before when he was still in college. But that was years ago. He learned how to cook back in China thanks to his roommate and his friends.
“I cooked for you,” Kongpob said silently, his tone finally alerting the older that there was something wrong.
Arthit snapped his attention back to his fiancé, after he had checked his pristine kitchen for any damages. Did he overreact when he learned that Kongpob was in the kitchen? Probably. No, he definitely did, after he saw the downturned set of the younger’s lips. Kongpob wasn’t even looking at him, choosing instead to stare at his fingers, which were fiddling with the lining of the pocket of the apron he wore.
Arthit noticed then the apron that the younger was wearing. It was a gag gift from Bright, after he and Kongpob decided to move in together into this new condo unit that they purchased. The thing was pink with black swirling designs printed on the cloth, with black strap loop on top. A strip of black cloth was sewn on the waist, extending to the sides to serve as the strap that goes around the waist, a wide black pocket just below it. Finally, the apron was finished with black cloth frills running along the sides starting from the black strip. He loathed wearing the thing and had buried it deep into one of the kitchen drawers. He should’ve burned the it when he first saw it so that he wouldn’t have to see it again.
But then again, it looked oddly cute on the younger… He grabbed his phone and secretly took a picture of the pouting junior of his, adding it on one of his secret folders that Kongpob will never know and see. (Knot would be the one to discover it though, and Kong would still see it, but that’d be another story for another time.)
He approached the sulking man, grabbed him by the waist and pulled him towards his body. With one hand secured around the younger’s waist, he grabbed a spoon with the other and dipped it into the bowl. The Tom Yum looked really good and it smelled heavenly too. Fortifying himself, because looks could be deceiving, he brought the spoonful of creamy liquid into his mouth, blowing at the steaming goodness to lessen the heat.
“P’Arthit, you don’t have to force yourself into eating it,” Kongpob said as he tried to get out of his hold. Arthit only tightened his arm around him.
“Shut it, Kong. And stop struggling! This is hot, you know,” he reprimanded. Kongpob stilled in his embrace, opting to bury his head instead on his shoulder. He felt arms snake around his waist and he smiled, counting it as a victory. The younger was easing up on him and he was most likely forgiven.
That was what was infuriating with the younger male sometimes, but it was something he also really loved. He was hard to anger, his patience as long as the Great Wall of China, but when he did, he was also easy to placate. Arthit knew that he just had to act cute, or be sweet to the younger (or both as long as they were alone together), and all would be forgiven. The only times that their fights had gone so long unresolved was when he was being stubborn himself, his self-doubt rearing its ugly head in the form of mulishness.
When he deemed the spoonful to be safe for his tongue, he slurped the liquid and was surprised at the burst of flavor in his mouth. It was tasty!
Dropping the spoon back on the bowl, he wrapped his other arm around the trim waist, burying his nose on the crook of the tanned neck of the younger. He inhaled the other’s scent as his mouth stretched involuntarily. Kongpob smelled good: the cologne that he secretly loved smelling on the other mixed with the scent of spices wisping from the open pot not that far away.
“Are you sure you’re not the wife in this relationship Kong?” he teased. “I know that you promised to make me your wife but why is it that you’re turning out to be the wife? I mean, you clean our place, you do the laundry, and now, you’re even taking over the kitchen. I think you really are the wifey.”
He felt a finger jab at his side, making him jump in surprise and at the ticklish sensation.
“Kong,” he warned.
“So, did you like it?” Kongpob mumbled against his shoulder. Arthit lifted his head and pecked the other’s ear.
“Yes wifey,” he answered. “Although, it could maybe use some salt.”
Arthit untangled himself from the younger and turned on the range again. He grabbed the salt shaker and added some into the pot and let it boil. In no time, he was scooping some of the soup and ladling it on a small sauce plate, blowing on the steaming liquid and checking the taste. After he adjusted the taste, humming in contentment in the process, he gathered another small serving of the soup into the plate.
“Wanna taste?” he asked the younger. When Kongpob nodded, he brought the plate to his mouth and drank the liquid instead of giving it to the younger. Kongpob looked on, slightly puzzled. Then he was yanking the other towards him, grasping the younger’s jaw with one hand, while the other one wrapped around the small waist. Kongpob yelped in surprise, and Arthit took that chance to transfer the mouthful of soup into the younger’s open mouth.
It kiss was messy, some of the liquid trickling out of the corners of their mouths, probably staining their once pristine shirts, but they didn’t care. Kongpob closed his eyes as he felt a tongue invade his cavern, wrapping his arms around the elder’s neck. He gulped the liquid that he managed to retain in his mouth, the taste of the food getting lost on the other’s taste. Their tongues dueled for dominance, Arthit demanding him to submit, as if he was making a point that he was the wife in their relationship.
Kongpob honestly didn’t care for such labels, and he knew that Arthit didn’t, too. Not seriously anyway. He just liked to jest sometimes. They continued to kiss, Kongpob relinquishing his control to the other and letting him plunder his mouth however he wanted. His senior twisted their bodies slightly and he was being backed towards a hard surface, the corner of the counter digging into his back. He leaned his weight on the counter, letting the fixture support his weight. Then he was being hoisted up and he was sat on the hard granite.
He squeaked at the sudden action then he was opening his thighs for the older to slot into. The slipper falling from his feet was a distant feeling as he wrapped his legs around the other’s trim waist. They continued to kiss with abandon, and he felt like he was being devoured by his fiancé when there was a perfectly decent food just a scant meter away. When he felt like the air was a necessity, he pulled hard on the hair in his grasp. He retreated from the other’s mouth, gulping precious air in the process. He leaned his head against the overhead cabinet behind him as he watched the older pant for air.
“What was that for?” Kongpob asked as he traced a finger on the shapely nose of his fiancé. The other was a mess and he was pretty sure that he didn’t look any better.
“Your reward for a job well done,” Arthit answered with a smirk. He tiptoed to peck on the other’s lips and then he was grabbing some tissues from the holder. He wiped at the younger’s mouth with it, along with his chin and neck. Then he also wiped his own face off the residue from the soup.
“That’s it?” Kongpob asked, controlling his facial muscles to stop himself from smiling.
“Be grateful that you got anything at all,” his fiancé answered haughtily. “Now get down from the counter and help me prepare for dinner!”
“You were the one who put me up here! Help me down.”
Arthit huffed through his nose. Aish, why is this kid acting like this?
“You’re not a damsel in distress! Get down on your own.”
“But I’m your wife!” Kongpob exclaimed as he hopped down from the counter.
“KONGPOB!”
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