School: Ilvermorny Year 4

Theme: Write about a deep, unbreakable bond.

Special Rule: Your story must include only two characters.

Main Prompt: [plot point] mutual pining

Additional Prompt: [action] cooking

WC: 1793

Note: Theo and Blaise are in requited love with each other, they're both just idiots

Salt spray clings to Theo's curls as he gives in to the urge to stray further across the damp sand. The path veers away, curling towards the small house set amongst swaying palm trees and solid earth clawed back from the grip of the sea.

He should go back, but he chooses to linger a moment longer, staring out across the glittering surf.

Theo had known it would be a difficult situation to bear before he had even signed the contract.

He was in love, not an idiot.

Even as Theo had created the contract, carefully reading over the worn and tattered notebook it had been jotted down in, he hadn't been able to help but linger over one section of it. The words were unimportant, glanced at and forgotten about in the same moment, but Blaise's curling script joined with Theo's block text is a sight he wants to remember. He had never considered something like this to be possible: business partners had been an effortless iteration of their relationship, an evolution of how they spent their school days, but marriage had never seemed like a possibility for Theo.

This is just another business move for Blaise. Theo has to remember that.

Before, something that almost felt like another life, Blaise had paused in his orbit around the kitchen with his shirt sleeves pushed up to the elbows. There was juice clinging to his palms and fragments of the herbs he had chopped clung to him no matter how many times he tried to wash his hands. "If you want to back out now, I'd understand because we need this to last, Theo."

Theo had looked at him, truly looked at him then. It had been hard to see past his own feelings, to peer through the memories of glancing up and catching Blaise's eyes upon him — only for a moment before the other man would turn away, his dark cheeks flushed — or to put away the sparks that would cling to his skin for hours after their fingers brushed. He would see Blaise ghost his hands over where Theo's touch had rested on his arms or on his fingers, but it couldn't mean anything more.

Theo looked at the man he loved and saw something. But the hope of returned feelings isn't enough to pledge a marriage on, particularly when it would never leave them, not truly. The contract made sure of it. They would be bound together, one way or another, forever.

"I don't want to back out. I want this deal."

Blaise had paused then, his gaze flickering between Theo and the pot on the stove. Cooking relaxed Blaise even if Theo couldn't understand it. It was like magic in that way, a speciality that was beyond Theo, but he enjoyed watching Blaise work.

"Good," Blaise said, tipping his chin towards the pot. "Because I've been cooking a marriage soup for the past few hours. Glad to see my efforts won't be wasted."

He had winked then, and Theo laughed, the sound carrying him from the memory back into the beach.

He is shocked when he realises his feet have started to move without thought or effort, leading him towards their temporary home. The lower half of the Dutch doors is closed, held in place by a latch that clings to the paint-chipped metal. It releases with a shriek and Theo grits his teeth against the sound that crawls beneath his skin.

"Blaise?" Theo calls, stepping inside and drawing the bottom half of the door closed behind him. The house is small enough that his voice fills it easily and he is turning towards the kitchen before Blaise can answer.

There is a moment when Theo can see Blaise in profile through the service hatch built into the wall. He is shrouded by the steam from the pan in front of him, his lips pressed together as he hums the tune to a song only he can hear. He is as peaceful as a satisfied predator basking in the sunlight, his eyes half-lidded and glinting gold.

He is Theo's husband, the terms neatly defined by their marriage licence and, yet… Blaise would never love him. Not like that, not the way he yearns for. Why would he?

"Good walk?" Blaise doesn't wait for him to answer before he beckons Theo closer. The steady thunk of the spoon hitting the side of the pan as Blaise knocks the lingering food scraps free almost disguises the sound of Theo stumbling over the tiled floor, but it can't mask the clunk as the bag bounces against his thigh and then the wall.

"And you picked up the supplies as well." Blaise's voice catches on something as Theo rounds the corner, veering between the warmth Theo knows — the comforting rumble in his ear to break with the tedium of waiting that brackets every moment of his life — and an emotion Theo doesn't dare to try and name.

"I did."

Theo places the bag on the counter to his right, the woven fabric a perfect, idyllic match against the warped, reclaimed wooden surface and the sea-glass studded mosaic that covers the wall. The shape of it never seems to settle and Theo's cheeks burn as the abstract shapes of tiled hearts jump out at him.

Blaise pats the counter beside him with his free hand, his attention diverted back to the pan. It is a familiar enough sight now, a taste of domesticity Theo had never thought he would get. He is hungry for it, desperate for whatever scraps he can horde from this arrangement, however long it lasts. "Come here. I want to see what you think."

It isn't unusual for Blaise to seek Theo's company; a consistent slow slide into Theo's personal space that had begun when they were at school together. It had been strange at first, almost overwhelming to glance at his side and have someone else already waiting there, but Theo is hesitant to admit that he has grown to expect it.

Theo would miss the reassurance of these gestures if this arrangement breaks down, no, when this arrangement breaks down.

Theo hoists himself onto the counter, settling into the space Blaise has left for him. He kicks his legs out, his sandals swinging free and skittering across the floor.

Blaise laughs softly, a gentle exhalation that barely seems to stir the plumes of steam around them, and Theo's attention snaps back to him as he holds up a new small metal spoon. Flaky fish sits amongst a deep sauce, herbs clinging to the handle of the spoon as well as the contents, all awash in steam.

"Try this and tell me what you think."

There's a hefty weight to Blaise's gaze and Theo doesn't let himself hesitate, leaning forward to take the spoon into his mouth.

There is heat at first, the sharp bite of nothing but sensation and Theo withdraws with his prize coating his tongue. He chews slowly, savouring the moment as much as the taste. It is sweeter than he would have expected Blaise to make given the other man's love of spice, and the firmness of the fish contrasts with the give of softer potato between his teeth. The sauce is fainter, but it clings to the edges of his tongue, promising a thicker and creamier taste once Blaise is finished cooking.

"It's good." Theo covers his mouth with his hand, speaking behind his fingers as he chews.

Blaise laughs, tipping his head back as his eyes close in his delight. Theo's gaze skims over his husband, cataloguing the faint freckles that decorate his skin where Theo's has only managed to crack and burn, before he lowers his gaze to study Blaise's hand.

The motion is quick enough that Theo almost doesn't catch it. He sees Blaise's thumb press against the golden ring on his finger as if he wants to remind himself it was there. Theo's heart catches and stutters in his chest, his mind awhirl with the possibility that Blaise had meant the vows they had exchanged as much as Theo had?

It is a nice thought, a pearl of hope and affirmation amongst uncertainty and denial but Theo pushes it away, focusing on Blaise as he speaks.

"My new husband and his way with words."

Theo flushes, ducking his head to try and hide the sudden burst of colour that he cannot blame on the sun filtering through the window or the heat of the food.

"You didn't marry me for my way with words," Theo says.

He watches as Blaise considers this, picking up the wooden spoon to scrape against the frond stuck to the side of the pan before Blaise rests it against the rim and steps away to the other counter. Every movement is calculated. There is an eerie grace to his movements that speaks to the careful balancing act they both perform, the armour they draw around themselves for safety, and yet…

Theo can see through the cracks in Blaise's mask. The other man's fingers curl around a handle as he draws a knife from the block, his mouth twisting to one side as he inspects it. "When we get back home, I am buying myself a proper set."

His gaze slides sideways to Theo, a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. "You are more likely to injure yourself with blunt knives, after all."

"My new husband," Theo says, his mouth dry as he echoes Blaise's earlier phrase. "So concerned with my safety."

Blaise closes his eyes, seeming to savour the moment just as Theo had savoured Blaise's cooking. "I am, you know. Truly. I am happier than I can say that you agreed to this marriage."

Theo nods, speaking past the lump in his throat, his chest and stomach warm. "I am too. We are in this together, after all."

Blaise steadies himself, tipping his head first to one side and then the other as if inspecting Theo for some hidden difference before he steps back to the oven, prodding the contents with the knife. The flesh of the vegetables gives way easily and Blaise hums, reaching down to turn the hob off.

"You okay sitting there still?" Blaise's voice is soft as he steps away, peering into Theo's discarded bag. "I was hoping for your opinion on dessert."

"I will try and meet your exacting standards with my reply," Theo says, deliberately flattening his voice to pull another laugh from Blaise.

"Good." Blaise draws a packet of biscuits from the bag, the plastic wrapping crackling with the movement. "This is going to work, isn't it, Theo?"

Theo pulls in a deep breath, tasting the salt of the sea and spice from Blaise's cooking in the air, and turns to look at the man he is hopelessly in love with. "Yes. It is."