Kindred Spirits

Thunder rumbled outside as Oro unpacked the bags of supplies, everything he needed for his famous casserole. Well, famous within his family, at least. He’d never cooked it for someone beyond his relatives before…

He cast an anxious look down the hall. Maybe he should wake Zyel, make sure he didn't mind the intrusion. They still had time to get home before the sandstorm hit.

“Let him sleep, Oro.” Ria, Oro's cousin, flashed him a grin before spilling her bag’s contents all over the counter. “You saw him earlier. He was practically dead on his feet.”

“It’s one thing to take his kid out to breakfast. Home invasion is a totally different matter,” Oro grumbled. Things had gotten easier between them at work, but Oro was reluctant to push that tentative trust.

Ria put a hand on his shoulder, face solemn. “The man needs the restorative powers of your cooking.” The façade cracks, her face splitting into a grin.

“Yeah, Oro,” Luma pipes up on his other side. “Uncle Zee won’t mind. I’ve never had a casserole before. Please? “ She draws the word out imploringly, making her blue eyes wide and endearing.

“Alright, you two win,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “But you better be ready to help.”

The teenager and the child saluted him. “Instruct us, wise one, so that we might all feast upon the bounty of our labor,” Ria said.

“Yeah,” Luma said, though Oro doubted she followed much of what his cousin had just said.

“Luma, you rinse the veggies,” Oro said. “Ria, you chop.”

They hopped to work following his instructions and only pelting each other with raw vegetables when Oro turned away. The chorus of giggles made him banish them from his workspace once they’d completed their portion of the preparations.

While Oro assembled everything, Ria pulled a card pack from her bag and beckoned Luma to the dining room table.

Oro sprinkled a light dusting of cheese over the finished casserole before tucking it into the oven.

Bits of vegetables littered the counter, so Oro set himself to clean up. While he worked, Ria and Luma delighted in a lively practice hand of cards, though they remained careful to keep their voices low.

He and Ria had only met Luma that morning, but his cousin’s affable demeanor had immediately cracked through the child’s shyness. They’d enjoyed breakfast and sightseeing, seeing as Luma and her uncle were new to the area, while Oro’s overworked partner got some much-needed rest.

Finished, he joined them at the table.

“Better watch out, wee one,” Ria said in a stage whisper. “Oro is the best in our family at this game. We'll have to work extra hard to beat him.”

“Ha, you can try,” Oro said.

“We Zo’s might be a little competitive,” Ria adds.

Luma pushed to her feet and glared at Oro, all seriousness, as she pointed at him and said, “You're going down.”

“You heard her,” Ria said, grinning wide. “Prepare yourself for battle, sir.”

Outside, the sandstorm hit, wind shrieking through the streets, but the lights inside didn't even flicker. Centuries of practice had made the city adept at weathering the torrential sands.

The casserole scent wafted through the apartment over the next hour, making them pause in their lively game to sniff the air.

A squeak of hinges and creaking floorboards signaled the end of Zyel's nap. His nose lifted as he entered the dining room. “Lu, what is that smell? Oh.” His gaze sharpened in an instant, shifting from Oro to Ria and back again. “You two are here.”

Oro wanted to explain but couldn't find his words. Instead, he stared at his partner. He’d never seen Zyel without a jacket, cowl, gloves, and headband, not in the three months they'd worked together, no matter how hot it got outside.

Now he wore a loose gray t-shirt, threadbare with a stretched-out neck. It looked soft, a texture only achieved through years of dedicated use and care. It showed off his clavicle, muscular shoulders, and arms. Sweatpants rested low on his hips.

And his hair. Without the headband, his suns-bleached strands hung into his face, unkempt and endearing. He raked it back and offered Oro a questioning eyebrow raise.

Oro should speak. He needed to speak, but his eyes drifted to Zyel’s collarbone, the line of muscle that connected his neck to his chest. It was—

“Uncle Zee!” Luma sprang from her chair and launched herself at Zyel.

Oro swayed, thankful for a moment to collect himself.

“Did you sleep well? I hope you did.” Luna peeled herself back enough to grin up at her uncle. “Guess what? Oro cooked us his famous casserole. He's a real good cook.”

“Is he now?” Though Zyel didn't smile when he glanced at Oro, his eyes glittered with mirth.

Oro's shoulders relaxed, relieved at his partner’s pleasant humor. “I'm alright, I guess.”

“Alright?” Ria's mouth dropped open, and she held a hand to her chest, the picture of outrage. “Your mom and my dad almost swore a blood-feud over the last piece last time you made it. It's amazing our house survived.”

“It certainly smells worth fighting over,” Zyel said, sniffing the air again.

Oro found it so captivating that he forced himself to glance away, fearing someone might catch him staring. Fortunately, the motion came off as modesty and embarrassment.

“Don't be like that,” Ria said, throwing an arm around Oro’s shoulders. “You're a superb chef, and you know it.”

“So, who won?” Zyel asked. “Your dad or his mom?”

Ria sighed. “While they were fighting, Riri snuck in and nabbed it for herself.”

“Our grandma,” Oro supplied at Zyel and Luma’s puzzled looks.

“Wiliest old woman you’ll ever meet,” Ria said.

“Pray you don’t.”

The chime of the alarm allowed him an escape. He crossed to the kitchen, mentally chastising himself for acting like an idiot. He was so used to Zyel with all his walls erected that seeing him relaxed had completely disarmed Oro.

He has no business being so charming, Oro thought as he pulled the oven mitt on and opened the oven.

Darkened cheese covered the top, crisped to perfection. Gravy bubbled up through cracks in the crust.

“It looks as good as it smells.”

Oro nearly leapt out of his skin. He whirled, grateful he’d already moved the dish to the cooling rack, and found himself face to face with Zyel.

Firm hands gripped Oro's shoulders, steadying him. “Sorry. You alright?”

Keep it together, Oro. He released a shaky breath. “Yeah man. You just startled me, is all. You're, uh—” he winced at his awkwardness, “—okay with us being here? Me and Ria I mean. I wasn't sure how you felt about unexpected visitors sticking around all afternoon.”

Zyel stared at him for a long moment, blinking. “I was surprised at first, but you're… always welcome, Oro.”

Oro could only gape. “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

Zyel shook his head and turned away, snorting with laughter. He dug into one of the kitchen drawers. “And you wonder why I don't give you compliments.” He turned back, holding a serving spoon out to Oro. “Smartass.”

“Force of habit.” Oro accepted the extended utensil, his index finger grazing Zyel's. What are you doing? He didn't toss you into a sandstorm, and now you're so full of yourself you're making a move. You—

But Zyel didn't seem upset or offended. Color stained his cheeks as he stared at their touching fingers, then met Oro’s eyes with an expression both shy and hungry.

Oro swallowed hard. He shifted on his feet, but his sock caught on something slippery, a vegetable from Ria and Luma's earlier battle, and it carried Oro's foot the wrong way.

He caught himself on the stove rather than crashing into Zyel. His forearm dipped, absorbing the force from his fall, and hit the edge of the hot casserole.

Heat seared down his forearm. Oro yelped, jerking away from the dish.

Once again Zyel grabbed his shoulders but this time steered him to the sink. He flipped on the water and pulled Oro’s arm into the stream.

Oro hissed as the cool liquid ran over the line of fire. Zyel's suns-bleached brows drew together as he examined the seared flesh.

“What happened?” Ria asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

“Just a little burn,” Zyel said, not looking up from his scrutiny. “Lu, could you grab the first aid kit, please?”

Small feet pitter-pattered away.

“Oh no, dear cousin, you’ve been wounded in battle. Did the food survive at least?” Ria asked, peering around him.

Oro dipped his fingers in the stream and sprayed droplets at her. “Get out.”

Ria chuckled as Luma slid into the kitchen. She passed her uncle a small red pack, but gave Oro an anxious inspection. “Are you gonna be okay, Oro?”

“He'll be fine,” Zyel answered. He released Oro with a stern look that said, ‘Keep that arm right there, or else,’ and turned his attention to the kit. “Why don't you and Ria set the table while I get our patient sorted out?”

The tension lines around Luma’s mouth and eyes smoothed out. “Okay,” she said. She turned to Oro before leaving the kitchen. “Don't worry, Uncle Zee is really good at healing ouchies.”

Oro gave her a reassuring smile. “I don't doubt it.”

“She’s a sweet kid,” Oro added as the child scurried to her task. “You can, uh, just leave the supplies there. I’ll get myself patched up.”

Zyel's resulting glower made Oro's mouth snap shut. He settled for watching as Zyel laid out the supplies he'd need: a pack of burn ointment, a square of gauze, and linen to wrap everything in place.

They didn't speak as he turned off the water and dabbed Oro's forearm with a clean towel, being gentle around the wound. His eyes remained focused and intent while setting the cloth aside and applying the healing salve.

It was novel having someone fuss over him, and a little uncomfortable. He’d missed the errant vegetable; it was his fault he’d injured himself.

But as Zyel worked without even a hint of annoyance or reproach as he dressed the wound, Oro found a warmth radiating from his chest, an unexpected gratitude toward his partner.

“All set,” Zyel said, tucking the wrap. He then lifted Oro’s forearm and kissed the dressing.

And froze.

He dropped Oro’s arm, turning fuchsia. “I’m, uh, I'm sorry. Force of habit.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair

“The table is set, Uncle Zee,” Luma said. She smiled at the bandage on Oro's arm before pivoting back to her uncle. “Did you kiss it to make it better?”

Oro clamped his teeth over a laugh at Zyel's stuttered confirmation and Luma’s mollified expression.

The atmosphere remained tense, so Oro buried himself in dishing up the casserole. “Zyel,” he said after a moment.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I—"

“No,” Oro said, turning. “I was just going to say thanks for this.” He lifted his bandaged arm.

Some of the flush left Zyel's checks as he studied Oro. “Anytime,” he finally said, a soft, genuine smile lifting his lips.

Giddiness made Oro’s hands tremble. He tried to suppress it as he passed Zyel two plates to take out to the table.

His partner inhaled, eyes closed. “This smells incredible.”

“Hopefully it tastes good too,” Oro said, grabbing the final couple of dishes. He turned to find Zyel still standing there, watching him.

“You shouldn't doubt yourself, Oro,” he said in a tender voice before leaving the kitchen.

Outside, the sandstorm raged, tearing at the city with vicious talons, but in the cozy dining room Oro only felt peace, a soft joy that expanded as his companions dug into the meal. The wordless sounds of glee only amplified the feeling.

“You know, Oro, I think this is your greatest creation yet,” Ria said around a mouthful of meat and vegetables.

“It’s so good,” Luma chimed in.

"Tastes even better than it smells," Zyel added. He stared down at his plate, a crease appearing between his brows.

“Something wrong?” Ria asked.

“Uh, no, I just—” Zyel's flush returned. “I don't think anyone has ever cooked a meal like this for me.” He met Oro's gaze. “Thanks.”

Oro's heart thudded against his ribs. “Anytime.”

“Next time, let’s do it together.”

Luma’s eyes lit. “You should make it again tomorrow.”