Dinner for Two

The sizzling pop of meat cooking is a siren call crooning at Hanzo the moment he steps through the door, and the heady scent of beef and spices and something else ― rice? ― cracks the cold shell of apathy around him to envelope him in a cloud of mouthwatering warmth.

"I'm home," he calls, curiosity piqued.

"Welcome home!" He melts a little inside at the deep, cheerful response from the kitchen; only one person with a key to his apartment has that delicious Southern drawl, and as always, it brings a smile to his face while he toes out of his boots and hangs his jacket on the coat tree by the door.

"I should scold you for entering my home while I am away," he says lightly, stepping into his house slippers and going straight to the kitchen.

"Ain't that whatcha gave me a key for?" the roguish American grins over his shoulder as he adjusts the temperatures of the stove burners before turning around. Hanzo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and a soft smile smoothing his features.

"Hello, Jesse," he hums warmly.

"Hey, Hanzo," Jesse chuckles, stepping across the kitchen to greet him with a gentle, chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. "How was work?"

"Horrible," Hanzo answers in an amusingly opposing tone, leaning into the American's touch. "Fortunately, Genji shared his lunch hour with me, else I would likely have murdered someone."

"Heh. How's yer brother doin' these days?" Jesse asks, returning to the food. Hanzo follows, partly to see what he's making, but mostly just to be near him. "Ain't heard from 'im in... gee, I dunno... couple months now?"

"He is doing well," Hanzo replies, leaning a hip against the counter to watch Jesse saute strips of seasoned beef in a variety of vegetables and other spices. "He misses you."

"I miss him too," Jesse smiles softly, lifting the lid of a pot to check on what appears to be brown rice with bits of egg cooked into it. "How's the hubby?" Hanzo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"If Genji is to be believed, Zenyatta is approaching godhood. I am beginning to think my brother will always have stars in his eyes for the monk."

"Former monk," Jesse corrects with a sidelong grin, taste testing the rice and adding a little more seasoning from a small orange packet that reads 'Sazon Goya.' "And what's wrong with stars? Zen's a great guy, and one helluva good influence on 'im."

"I have nothing against him, of course," Hanzo assures, fully aware of the irony of his next words as his gaze roams Jesse's face. "I merely think it somewhat ridiculous that even after two years of marriage, Genji still goes mooney-eyed as a schoolboy on his first crush whenever he thinks of his husband."

"That so?" Jesse hums, a knowing smile on his lips as he flicks off the stove and stirs up the pan a few more times. "Wanna set the table, honeybee?"

"You don't agree?" Hanzo asks, going through his cupboards and drawers to collect pairs of plates, glasses, and utensils, choosing forks and knives rather than satisfying his usual preference for chopsticks.

"I think it's sweet he still got that spark, ya know?" Jesse says, taking the plates to fill them with food while Hanzo places the rest neatly on the table. "Too many couples just... get stale, I guess? Like once that ring's on yer finger, life's lost all its colour."

"Is that to say you never want to get married?" Hanzo cocks his head curiously. There's no meaning beyond the question itself, but the moment he asks, it occurs to him how it could be taken, and he really hopes the heat creeping up his neck isn't visible.

Jesse doesn't answer immediately, bringing the plated food to the table while Hanzo busies himself picking drinks from the fridge. When he returns with a jug of orange juice to fill their glasses, Jesse absently leans on the table.

"Dunno as I'd say I never wanna get married," he answers slowly, thinking out his words. "I just don't... I wannit to mean somethin', ya know?"

"Promising yourself to someone for the rest of your life doesn't?" Hanzo quirks a brow, grateful that Jesse didn't take the question for something it wasn't.

"See, but that's the thang, ain't it?" Jesse smiles lightly, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Hanzo to sit. "Too many people jump in headfirst and end up regrettin' it all; it ain't forever if'n ya sign divorce papers." Circling around to the other seat, he settles in and reaches a hand across the table. "Mind if I say grace, darlin'?"

"Please," Hanzo bids, well used to the American's habits, as he places his hand in Jesse's, calloused fingers warm and comforting beneath his own.

The spiced steam wafting past his nose is making his mouth water, but Jesse knows him well and keeps the prayer short and sweet. An explosion of flavour greets him with the first bite; the familiar tang of sweet and sour umami settles light on his tongue, given weight by an unexpected combination of spice and something almost... earthy. The rice, he assumes, but a style he's never had before.

"Like it?" Jesse laughs. "Been a while since I seen you speechless."

"It's very good," Hanzo admits with a faint smile. "What is it?"

"Just a little experimentin', really," Jesse grins. "Picked up some tips and habits from my mama. Figured since we ain't seen each other in a minute, you'd like some of my best cookin'. And if you had a bad day, well... Mama always said a happy tummy makes everythin' better."

"Not the company?" Hanzo hums, smile growing as he's rewarded with a delightful blush.

"Well shiet, Han," Jesse chuckles, covering his mouth like he can hide the red blossoming in his face. "You really know how to make a man feel special."

"Says the man who specifically cooked a special meal for his fiance to welcome him home." The words come far more easily than Hanzo expected, and he feigns a casual air he doesn't really feel, pretending to be more interested in the saute-slathered rice before him than in the stunned American across the table.

"Han?" When Jesse finally manages the word, it's cracked and strained with surprised hope, and Hanzo allows himself a hint of a smirk as he looks up, the picture of innocence.

"Yes, love?"

The strangled noise Jesse makes is well worth it; Hanzo struggles not to grin at him, enjoying the moment, savouring revenge for every second the American made his heart burst with adoration.

"Honeybee, don't do me like this," Jesse pleads. "Ya can't just... say somethin' like that outta the blue!"

"Mm." Hanzo waits a moment, tapping his jaw like he's thinking, when really he just wants to take in his flustered American's features a moment longer. Then he stands and goes into the living room, keenly aware of Jesse's gaze tracking his every movement as he goes to the quaint little fireplace and takes a puzzle box from the mantle. Returning to the table, he places the box between them and sits down. "Since you shared a piece of your mother, I think it only fair that I share a piece of mine. She made puzzle boxes for a living, and that one specifically, she crafted for my father as a gift on their wedding day. I was always fascinated by her puzzle boxes, so he left it to me in his will." He motions for Jesse to open it, truly turning his attention to his food now, because once the American sees what's inside, the delicious meal will be abandoned, and it would be a waste to throw it all out.

It takes about two and a half minutes for Jesse to figure out how to open the small, fist-sized box, and Hanzo is almost finished by the time he gets it. For a moment, he goes still, and a small flare of panic swells in Hanzo's chest at the inscrutable expression on his long-time lover's face. He holds his breath, waiting for Jesse's reaction.

"Hanzo..." Jesse breathes, tearing his gaze from the pair of matching rings nestled in velvet at the bottom of the puzzle box to look up at him. "Honeybee, what on earth possessed you..."

Something in Hanzo cracks, but he doesn't get a chance to speak.

"...to think that my mama's cookin' is comparable to a proposal?" Jesse pulls the rings free and sets the box aside, reaching across the table for Hanzo's hand to slide the smaller ring onto his finger. A gentle, loving smile adorns his face now, and Hanzo's heart skips, fully repaired, as Jesse settles the larger ring on his own finger and takes Hanzo's hand. "Forever's for real with you, darlin'."

"I certainly hope so," Hanzo smiles, content to watch his fiance finish eating. "I can't stand the thought of you cooking for anyone else." He basks in the rich warmth of Jesse's laugh and thanks whatever God the man prays to for giving them each other.