Lucien learned something deeply humiliating the moment real Chinese food entered the conversation:he would abandon self-respect immediately if dumplings or tomato egg were involved.

Leon, meanwhile, looked extremely satisfied with his reaction.

After picking up groceries, he drove them to an apartment not far from campus. The building was modern and expensive in the quiet kind of way wealthy people preferred, all glass and stone and polished steel without any need to show off.

“I only stay here when I don’t feel like driving back to the ranch,” Leon said, unlocking the apartment with one hand. “Usually it just sits empty.”

Everything sat perfectly organized beneath warm lighting, clean enough to resemble a luxury showroom more than an actual home.

Lucien stepped inside and immediately regretted every decision that had brought him there.

What exactly was wrong with him lately?

Why did one dangerous man cooking Chinese food suddenly override every survival instinct he possessed?

He should probably leave.

Right now.

Before things got weird.

Then Leon said casually from the kitchen doorway, "I'm making boiled fish, sweet-and-sour pork, garlic shrimp, stir-fried greens, and tomato egg soup. Is that enough?"

Lucien quietly stepped fully into the apartment again.

"Where do I change shoes?"

Leon's mouth twitched almost invisibly.

He opened the shoe cabinet beside the entrance.

Inside sat rows of identical dark house slippers arranged with military precision.

Except for one pair.

Small white slippers with cartoon sheep on them.

Leon's gaze rested there for half a second before he reached past them and handed Lucien a plain black pair instead.

Lucien slid them on obediently.

They were huge on him.

His toes barely reached halfway.

Leon looked away before he started having thoughts again.

"Want something to drink?" he asked. "Milk okay?"

Lucien stared at him suspiciously.

Why did Leon constantly try to feed him dairy products like he was raising livestock?

Still… milk supposedly helped with height.

"…Can I have sugar in it?"

"Of course."

A few minutes later Leon returned with warm milk while Lucien sat curled into the corner of the couch looking strangely small against the oversized furniture.

Everything in the apartment matched Leon himself somehow.

Large.

Minimal.

Sharp-edged.

Dangerously masculine.

Even the kitchen counters looked built for somebody much taller than average.

"You can watch something while I cook," Leon said, setting down a tablet and game console beside him. "Or play games."

Lucien accepted the milk with both hands.

"Do you need help?"

"No." Leon's eyes stayed on him for a moment too long. "You just sit there and look pretty."

Lucien nearly inhaled hot milk directly into his lungs.

By the time he recovered, Leon had already disappeared into the kitchen.

Silence settled over the apartment except for faint cooking sounds drifting from the other room.

Lucien lasted approximately two minutes before curiosity won.

He set down the milk and started wandering.

The apartment was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city below, and every shelf contained something expensive-looking and aggressively tasteful. There were books everywhere too, which somehow surprised him more than the luxury did.

Then he noticed the boxing glove.

Red leather.

Slightly worn.

Displayed alone on the highest shelf beside the living room.

The one Leon wore during matches now was black.

This one looked older somehow.

Lucien stared at it long enough that he didn't notice Leon approach behind him.

Leon stopped close enough to smell Lucien's shampoo.

The top of his head looked ridiculously soft.

Even the tiny swirl of hair at his crown somehow managed to look cute.

Leon folded his arms slowly.

"That was my first professional glove."

Lucien jumped hard enough to nearly crash directly into him.

Leon caught his shoulder automatically before Lucien could stumble backward.

"You scared me!"

"You were busy investigating."

Lucien looked back at the shelf immediately.

"Can I see it?"

Leon smiled slightly.

"Go ahead."

Lucien reached up.

Nothing.

He stretched higher.

Still nothing.

The shelf remained offensively tall.

Behind him, Leon watched the situation deteriorate with visible amusement.

"You need help?"

Absolutely intentional.

Lucien could feel it.

He glared upward at the shelf like height discrimination had become personal.

Then suddenly his entire body lifted off the floor.

A startled noise escaped him automatically as Leon grabbed his waist and raised him effortlessly against his chest.

"There," Leon murmured beside his ear. "Now you can reach."

Heat rushed straight into Lucien's face.

Leon always did this.

No warning.

No hesitation.

Just hands suddenly everywhere like Lucien weighed nothing at all.

Trying very hard not to think about the fact that Leon's arm around his waist felt alarmingly solid, Lucien grabbed the glove from the shelf.

"This one?"

"Mhm."

Leon lowered him carefully back onto the floor.

Lucien immediately decided he needed calcium supplements immediately.

One day he would become tall enough to reach shelves independently and escape this humiliation forever.

"You wanna try it on?" Leon asked.

"Huh?"

"Give me your hand."

Lucien obeyed automatically.

The glove swallowed his entire arm.

Leon adjusted the straps slowly while Lucien watched him from embarrassingly close range.

His hands were huge.

Warm.

Rough from training.

Dangerous-looking in a way that made Lucien's stomach feel weird lately.

"There," Leon said softly.

Lucien lifted both fists experimentally.

The gloves looked absurdly oversized on him.

Leon looked one second away from losing composure entirely.

"Punch me."

Lucien blinked.

"What?"

"Go ahead."

Very suspicious request.

Still, Lucien swung obediently.

His tiny punch landed directly against Leon's chest.

Leon barely moved.

Lucien, meanwhile, recoiled backward like he'd punched concrete.

"Oh my God," he muttered in horror. "Your body's illegal."

Leon laughed low in his throat.

The sound curled warm through the apartment.

Before Lucien could recover his pride, Leon caught his wrist gently.

"I'll teach you properly someday," he said. "But right now dinner's ready."

Someday.

The word lingered strangely in Lucien's chest while he removed the gloves.

Leon took them back carefully.

He'd spent years protecting that pair.

Nobody touched them.

Nobody except Lucien, apparently.

The thought settled somewhere deep and possessive before Leon pushed it aside and followed him toward the dining table.

Lucien had already wandered into the kitchen, staring openly at the food with unconcealed excitement.

"Oh wow."

Leon leaned against the counter watching him instead of the dishes.

Worth it.

Every second learning recipes.Every disastrous attempt at Chinese cooking.Every late-night phone call asking confused chefs questions.

Worth it.

The table had been set properly too.

Rice.

Soup.

Chopsticks.

Two bowls waiting side by side.

Leon still handled chopsticks awkwardly compared to Lucien, but he picked up food carefully anyway and placed it into Lucien's bowl first.

"Try it."

Lucien took one bite.

Then another.

Then immediately looked ready to emotionally ascend.

"It's so good."

Actual happiness spread visibly across his face while he ate.

Leon couldn't stop watching him.

Nobody had ever reacted to his cooking like this before.

Nobody had ever mattered enough for him to care.

Halfway through dinner, Lucien finally looked up again.

"Why did you suddenly start learning Chinese food?"

There it was.

The dangerous question.

Leon met his eyes calmly across the table.

"What do you think?"

Lucien instantly lowered his gaze back into his rice.

Coward.

Leon hid his smile by reaching for the soup bowl.

"I got bored," he said smoothly after a moment. "Tried learning different things. French food too."

Lucien drank half his soup before responding.

"Chinese food's better."

Leon looked at him quietly for several seconds.

Then, in slightly accented Mandarin:

"好,就餐. (Okay, then let's make Chinese food.)"

Fine. Then I'll cook Chinese food.

Lucien froze mid-bite.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

"You—"

"You wouldn't teach me," Leon said. "So I started learning myself."

His pronunciation wasn't perfect.

But it was good.

Too good.

"You sound amazing," Lucien blurted immediately.

Leon's gaze darkened slightly at the praise.

"There's more."

"What else do you know?"

Leon leaned back slightly in his chair.

"Maybe next time."

Because the phrases he remembered best weren't appropriate for dinner conversation.

Not unless he wanted Lucien choking to death on rice.

By the end of the meal, Lucien looked blissfully overfed.

Leon rested one arm against the table and watched him with the kind of focus that would've terrified most people.

"You can come here whenever you want," he said quietly. "Study here. Ask me questions. I'll cook for you."

The invitation landed heavily between them.

Lucien hesitated.

The apartment felt too comfortable already.

Too easy.

Like one more step forward and he might accidentally stop wanting to leave.

"You're busy," he said finally. "I can't bother you all the time."

Leon's jaw tightened briefly.

Bother.

If Lucien only understood what he actually was to Leon.

Not inconvenience.

Not obligation.

Reward.

Leon liked him here.

Too much.

Liked hearing him move through the apartment.

Liked watching him eat.

Liked the way his small body disappeared into Leon's oversized furniture like he already belonged there.

Instead of saying any of that, Leon only asked, "You bought Halloween candy earlier?"

Lucien nodded.

"I have more upstairs. Take some home."

So Lucien left carrying enough candy to survive an apocalypse.

Back at the dorm, his roommate sat at the kitchen table carving pumpkins.

Orange guts covered newspapers everywhere.

"We're saving the seeds," his roommate explained. "Decoration project."

Lucien washed his hands and joined him.

"You went out?" the roommate asked casually.

"Mhm. Ate at a friend's place."

"The guy you talk to every night?"

Lucien nearly stabbed straight through the pumpkin.

"…Yeah."

His roommate looked genuinely confused.

"So are you dating or not?"

Lucien choked immediately.

"What?"

"You basically have nightly calls, he cooks for you, and you disappear together constantly. I assumed."

"Obviously not!"

Too fast.

Too loud.

His roommate raised both eyebrows slowly.

Lucien lowered his head again and focused violently on pumpkin carving.

"…Not yet," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Once finished, Lucien stared proudly at his ugly little pumpkin creation.

It looked terrible.

He loved it instantly.

Without thinking, he snapped a photo and sent it to Leon.

Three seconds later regret hit him.

Why was he doing this automatically now?

Why did every tiny thing immediately make him think of Leon?

Lucien panicked and considered unsending the picture.

Too late.

Leon had already replied.

Leon: Too cute for a pumpkin:)

Leon: You busy on Halloween night?

Lucien stared at the screen.

Then slowly smiled despite himself.

Lucien: I can dress up as a sheep ghost.

Leon: Sheep ghost?

Lucien: Lamb skewers. Dead sheep:)