Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peel and thinly slice the shallots. Smash, peel, and thinly slice the garlic. Halve, de-seed, and thinly slice the peppers. Pick a large bunch of Thai basil, rinse in a bowl of water, set aside. Time to make ground chicken. Place dark meat chicken on the cutting board, slice into thin strips without cutting all the way through, flip over, slice again, flip over, slice again, flip over, slice once more. Press into a loose mound and—

"Oh! Can I do this part? I like this part."

It was only through experience that Peach didn't jump. He tended to get so focused on his cooking that he forgot other people were in the room, except Home. It wasn't like Home was louder than other people. In fact, he grew quiet any time Peach held a kitchen utensil in his hand. It was like magic, honestly.

But there wasn't a moment that Peach wasn't aware of Home's presence near him, and since Home had created Cooking Long Lasting, he'd been a frequent kitchen guest while Peach cooked. Usually sitting on the other side of the counter and quietly watching—or starting up an innocuous conversation that wouldn't be too distracting.

"Did you—"

"Wash my hands?" Home interrupted with a grin. He held up his hands, where his sleeves were already pushed back. "Ready, chef!"

With a nod, Peach handed over the knife and watched as Home got to work beating the hell out of the meat with the sharp edge of the knife, the final step in the grinding process. It was nerve-wracking the first time Home had asked to do that—Peach was certain Home would lose a finger—but it was just chopping meat. It was hard for Home to mess that up. At least there was no flame involved.

And Peach would never admit to anyone that he liked when Home tried to help him in the kitchen, even when he majorly screwed things up. The fact that Home wanted to help with something Peach loved, to be part of Peach's world, always had his heart racing pleasantly in his chest.

While Home chopped, Peach started cooking. Heat the wok. When it smoked, add oil, then chilies, shallots and garlic. Fry for two minutes, stirring frequently. Peach opened his mouth to ask Home for the chicken, but Home was already there, dumping it in and then smiling at Peach like he'd just won a prize. It was stupid. It was adorable. Peach pressed his lips together and focused on the wok.

"Thanks," he said, because he knew how it would make Home's eyes go fond even without looking.

In the time they'd known each other, Peach had learned so many ways to make Home react. It was almost too easy to convince himself that Home had feelings for him just by saying the right thing at the right time and then taking that smile too personally.

Home took up his seat across the counter again, crossing his arms on the countertop and laying his head on them. Peach allowed himself a moment to smile before looking away again.

Add sugar, soy sauce, fish sauce, and chicken broth. Cook until the liquid is gone. Add basil, cook until wilted.

Home hummed happily. "I love that smell."

Peach also loved the smell. He always had, but since the day Home had told Peach that the smell of the basil had helped bring his soul back to his body? It might be Peach's favorite smell in the world.

"Ai'Home, fluff the rice for me," Peach requested.

"So bossy," Home teased even as he went over to the rice cooker. He popped it open, used the spoon beside it to fluff the rice inside, and smiled. "Ooh, coconut rice."

"Don't eat some," Peach said, and Home guiltily pulled the spoon away from his mouth. "It's for a guest."

"Aow! Ai'Peach," Home whined, setting the spoon down to instead latch onto Peach's arm as the chef moved to put the rice on a plate. "I want pad krapow for dinner too, with coconut rice."

Peach managed to plate the food presentably and slide it across for Pangpang to take to the correct table without dislodging Home from his body. It made maneuvering more difficult, but Peach liked the feel of Home clinging onto him, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip, Home's mouth near his ear.

"Hey!" Home said brightly, turning Peach to show him the wok. "There's some left!"

Of course there was some left. Peach knew how much Home liked to eat his cooking—as much as the man liked watching him cook it, if not more so. Peach plated the remaining Thai basil chicken and coconut rice, though without the Chef's Table presentation, and held it out for his human-shaped growth.

"Mm. Here," he said.

Without loosening his hold even a centimeter, Home opened his mouth and said, "Ah. Feed me. Ahhh~"

Cheeks flaming, Peach said, "Playing the useless rich boy today?" He scooped up some rice and chicken, holding it up to Home's mouth. "I'm not even your boyfriend but you have me feed you."

The way Home stared at him while he chewed made Peach's skin crawl in an enjoyable way. Like he was Home's whole world. Like he wouldn't mind if Peach was his boyfriend.

"Oooeiiii!" Pangpang squealed, and Peach heard the sound of her camera as it stopped recording. She beamed at them. "Feeding por, hia? Our fans will love this! Hashtag PeachHome!" She put a finger to her chin and looked up contemplatively. "Or is it Hashtag HomePeach?"

She bounced away before Peach could protest, but even if he had, it would've been for appearances only. Sure, random people on the internet shipping him and Home was weird, and he didn't really like being perceived by countless strangers, but Pangpang had been running lives and vlogs for most of her life, so he was used to it by now. And people shipping them on the internet was probably the closest Peach would get to actually dating Home, so—

Home poked Peach in the head, knocking him from his thoughts. "Hey," Peach protested.

Home nodded toward the plate in Peach's hand and wrapped his arms tighter around Peach's. "Stop getting distracted. I want more."

With a roll of his eyes, Peach gave him another spoonful.

…

…

As much as Home had insisted that the Cok Long was a perfectly good living space as it was, he'd agreed to add a small apartment on top of the old cocktail bar-turned chef's table restaurant for Peach and Pangpang to live in for as long as they'd like. Each sibling had their own room, plus one more for a guest. There was a living room, a kitchen Home had let Peach design himself, and two bathrooms. Ostensibly the second bathroom was so that Peach could use the toilet even if Pangpang was showering or something, but it quickly became obvious that even two bathrooms weren't enough.

Because Home moved himself in shortly after construction finished up, and often was the one who spent the most time hogging a bathroom.

"It's just easier if we live together, you know?" Home said after two weeks, when the siblings asked why he wasn't leaving. "I don't have to drive over to pick you up for exorcism jobs, and I can help with the restaurant easier. Win-win!" he finished in English.

"But you still have to go pick up Kan," Peach had pointed out.

"Oh my gosh! Is Mae going to live with us too?" Pangpang asked excitedly.

"No," Peach denied at the same time Home sighed out a, "She rejected the idea when I offered."

And Home living under the same roof would've been hard on Peach's heart on a normal day, but living with Home was anything but normal. For all his talk of privacy with the bathrooms, he seemed to have no problem walking in on Peach in any state of undress and acting like Peach was the odd one for calling that weird. He sat hip to hip with Peach on the couch in the evenings, even though there was more than enough space for three people on the behemoth Home had bought them, sometimes even throwing his arm around Peach's shoulder like it was as easy as a handshake.

The worst was that though Home seemingly went to bed in the guest room, Peach woke up more mornings than not with Home lying in bed with him. The first time, Peach had screamed and punched Home in the face. By the fifth time, Peach just sighed and let himself stare at Home for a few minutes—taking in his eyelashes, the lax parting of his lips as he softly breathed in and out, the smooth, supple texture of his skin from a strict facial routine. Then he pushed Home out of bed.

"I don't know, man, I must be sleepwalking," Home had said, but he wouldn't meet Peach's eyes and scuffed his stupidly expensive shoe on the floor.

Crossing his arms, Peach had offered, as if put upon, "If you're going to end up there anyway, stop being weird about it and just come to bed with me." Home's eyes went wide and Peach's face lit on fire. "To sleep! Instead of wandering in in the middle of the night like an intruder!"

With a smarmy grin, Home slid into Peach's personal space and put his face so close that their noses almost touched. "Can't really intrude in a house you own, though, can you?" His eyes flicked down for a moment before he pulled back, his smile much less obnoxious. "But you're really okay with that, Peach? It won't be creepy for you?"

Peach rolled his eyes. "It's less creepy than the sleepwalking."

So, sharing a bed with Home became Peach's new normal. It was horrible. It was wonderful. It fed Peach's delusion, and he should really put a stop to it…but he couldn't.

He was sharing a bed with his crush, eating breakfast with him every morning, sharing family dinner with him most nights. He got to see Home in a towel after a shower, got roped into doing a facial routine standing next to Home in the bathroom, ended more than one day with Home leaning on his shoulder or laying with his head in Peach's lap, fast asleep. It was almost like they were dating, except that they weren't.

All Home wanted was a family. That's what he'd said. A normal family like normal people. He wanted someone to share meals with, who wasn't hiding law-breaking secrets from him. That was all.

But if Peach closed his eyes and just breathed the situation in…He could pretend for a while. That was okay, right?

…

…

"P'Home! Look look!"

Peach looked up from meal prepping for tomorrow's dinner to see Pangpang leaning over the back of the couch, her phone held in front of Home's face. For a moment, Home's eyebrows came together in confusion as he watched her click on something on her screen. Then he looked curious, perhaps intrigued. Was she showing him prank videos again? They'd talked about this. No need to give Home any ideas.

"What are you looking at?" Peach asked, making sure to keep his voice nonjudgmental, and turned back to cutting tofu.

"Uhhhh," Home let out at the same time Pangpang brightly announced, "Hot guys!"

The knife stopped halfway through the block of tofu. Peach looked up again, seeing his sister's mischievous expression and Home's pink cheeks. "Huh?"

"Hot guys," Pangpang repeated, like Peach was being purposefully difficult. Even as she explained, she clicked around on her phone to show Home more. "Which of these is more your type? This one? This one?"

Home glanced at Peach, to the phone, and said, "The second one?" as more of a question than a statement.

Pangpang pouted. "Be serious, P'Home. You don't want to go on a date with someone you don't even find attractive, do you?"

"Date?!" Peach and Home yelled at the same time. Their wide gazes locked briefly before focusing back on Pangpang.

"Duh," Pangpang said, standing up straight again. "I mean, if hia won't take you out, then we can find someone who will. You're hot stuff, por!"

Home wasn't looking at Pangpang now. His eyes were on Peach. But Peach hardly noticed.

His sister knew he liked Home. Of course she did. They'd only lived together for almost thirty years. She'd probably figured it out before Peach did. But for her to say it out loud, in front of Home—For her to play matchmaker for Home in front of Peach—

"Pangpang," Home started, patting Pangpang's arm where he could reach from his seat on the couch. "I appreciate the help, but I don't need it." Before she could pout too much, he held up his arms as if he were showing off his muscles through his long-sleeved lounge shirt. "With this body, I can get a date easily, all on my own!"

He laughed, loud and bold, but there was a strain at the corner of his eyes, a quiver at the edge of his smile. Was he…faking? That was the expression Home made when he didn't want them to know he was upset, even though he wanted to cry. So either Home didn't think any of the guys on Pangpang's phone would want him, or…

"Home doesn't need to date any of those hot guys," Peach said with finality, setting down his knife and wiping his hands on a towel.

His sister and Home watched as Peach left the kitchen to stand in front of the couch. Hands on his hips, Peach took a deep breath. His heart was racing like he was about to face off against a ghost, or jump off a cliff.

"Ai'Home," he started, and his voice cracked. Clearing his throat and crossing his arms, he tried again. "We're going on a date. This Sunday."

Pangpang shrieked and covered her face with her hands. "Oh my gawd!"

Home's eyes went wide again and he dropped his flexing pose. "Dude, are you serious?" he asked.

It was hard to swallow. Peach gripped his arms tighter. "I like you and I want to date you," he admitted. He shrugged. "I mean, we're kind of already dating, sort of, but—"

"No way," Home said, and Peach's mouth snapped shut, his stomach already dropping nauseously. Then Home's face broke into a wide smile. "I wanna date you too!"

Jumping up, Home reached out as if to hug Peach, hesitated, then went for it, wrapping his arms around Peach tightly. Peach quickly returned the gesture. Being in Home's arms had always been a nice feeling, but coupled with knowing Home liked him too? It was the best hug in the world.

"I know I'm not great at this kind of thing, but I really like you, Peach," Home said quietly.

Pangpang squeaked and Peach let out a sigh. Without pulling back from the hug, or even looking at his sister, Peach said, "Pangpang, go clean up for dinner."

"Ah," Pangpang winked. "I gotcha. Don't have too much fun and forget about the food, though," she sing-songed before heading for her bathroom.

Once they were alone, Peach pulled out of the hug—which Home protested with a soft sound that had Peach's heart turning to mush. Peach made sure Home was looking directly into his eyes before he spoke.

"I'm going to kiss you now." His confidence wavered and he swallowed thickly. "Okay?"

Lips pulling up in a small yet assured smile, Home wrapped one hand around Peach's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Home's lips were soft, more plush than expected, and smooth in a way that suggested he never chewed his lip in worry.

Home stepped back half a step and Peach nearly followed after, not wanting the kiss to end. Not now that he'd finally experienced what kissing Home felt like. Forget hugging, they were going to kiss all the time now.

Though he was doing his best to still look self-confident, Home's cheeks were turning dark pink, and he shifted from foot to foot restlessly. "I kissed you first," he declared, as if he'd won something.

Peach huffed. "I confessed to you first."

Puffing out his chest, Home pointed to his own chest and said, "I started everything by moving in and pretending to sleep walk."

A single laugh and Peach also pointed at Home. "I knew you were lying about that," he said triumphantly.

Home deflated like a popped balloon, his expression guilty. "Shit."

As cute as a caught-out-and-sorry-about-it Home was, Peach didn't let him suffer for long. He reached out to take Home's hand and smiled to show that he didn't mind the ruse. He'd known Home was lying about how Home kept ending up in his bed anyway. He'd allowed it for his own reasons.

"Let's have dinner. Hm?"

The smile that lit Home's face was beatific. Peach loved that look on Home. As they headed for the kitchen, still hand-in-hand, he started wondering how things would change now. He'd said it before: they were basically already dating. The biggest difference now, Peach supposed, was that they would hold hands, and cuddle on purpose at night, and kiss—

Home leaned in and kissed Peach's cheek, making Peach stumble and look at him with surprise.

Beaming, Home said, "I like you."

It was said so effortlessly, but also like it meant everything. And it did. Home liked Peach. Peach liked Home. It was obvious. It was easy. But saying it, admitting to it, acting on it, was monumental. Now the weight was gone, leaving only the simple joy of knowing they were loved.

Leaning in to press his own kiss to Home's cheek in return, Peach smiled at Home's blushing face. "I like you too."