5 chapters left, including this one!

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Time seemed to have stopped for Wooyoung and San.

For several days, they went nowhere. They stuck in the protection of Wooyoung's flat and dedicated all their attention to each other. There was not a minute when they weren't glancing, touching, or breathing in each other to assure themselves of their togetherness.

It was paradise. Even in Wooyoung small, stuffy flat that had changed its scent slightly with San around at all times, it was paradise.

They got to do all the things Wooyoung had feared would never happen after San died. One of those first things was Wooyoung cooking the dish he had prepared so much for San. When he had jumped off from lounging together with San on the couch while they held each other to be close and a nonsense program ran, San had looked up at Wooyoung with big eyes. The soft hoodie the man wore was one from Wooyoung's closet and Wooyoung adored seeing him in it.

"Are you hungry?"

San sat up and flattened the pillow that had wrinkled under the weight of Wooyoung's back. It was the one Wooyoung had gifted him to have his own in Wooyoung's home, and San carried it around between the bed and the couch all the time. Unsure where Wooyoung's impatience came from, the man's eyes flickered through the room.

"Sure. Shall I order food?" His hand inched towards his sweatpants, about to draw the phone Wooyoung still found ridiculous in his hand. Each time San reached down, Wooyoung expected him to come back up with a sword.

Wooyoung shook his head with a cheeky grin. As he marched off towards the kitchen, San turned on the couch to lean over the backrest and watched Wooyoung, full of intrigue.

"I will cook for you today," Wooyoung announced. Ceremoniously, he got out the apron his sister had gifted him when he had moved out from home. He rolled up his sleeves before he hung it around his neck.

Before his fingers could fiddle with the strings, San was already behind him. With a hum, he crossed the long strings over Wooyoung's back and turned him around to tie them shut at the front.

"'I cook as well as I look'?" San read the slogan on the apron's chest out loud. Wooyoung leaned in his direction when San pulled him closer by the strings to close them.

"Your cooking must be downright phenomenal, then. Are you trying to kill me with the combination of both?"

Wooyoung had to turn his head away, but he couldn't hide his pleased smirk. San had lost none of his smooth flirtatiousness over the years.

"You better prepare yourself, it will be out of this world," Wooyoung retorted, but it was a soft blow given how buttered up he was. If he slid into the pan right now instead of the chicken he was about to prepare, he might cook himself with his blush.

"Let me help you," San pleaded. He left a kiss on Wooyoung's forehead before he stepped back from the other man. Patiently, he stood at the kitchen counter and awaited orders. Wooyoung thought about it while he retrieved all the ingredients they needed from the fridge and the cabinets. With the pan on the stove and his cutting board at the ready, he decided.

"Alright, you do the back-hugging."

The corners of San's mouth twitched into an involuntary smile.

"The back-hugging?"

"Yes, it's a vital part of cooking with your boyfriend." Wooyoung brandished his spatula as if it were a magical wand. When he turned around to get cooking, San pushed off the counter to step behind Wooyoung.

Warm and just as strong as Wooyoung always remembered them to be, San's arms wrapped around Wooyoung's waist. They crossed over his stomach as the man gently settled his chin on Wooyoung's shoulder.

A rush of adoration set off a swarm of butterflies in Wooyoung's tummy. They thumped against his ribcage as they tried to free themselves from the motion San's simple actions put their shy wings into.

"Like this?" San muttered against Wooyoung's ear. His voice was soft, but it still chased a shiver down Wooyoung's spine.

He gripped the spatula like a lifeline as he nodded.

"Good job, yes." Wooyoung's voice was squeaky like air leaving a balloon. He went to work, hacking away at vegetables and spices to dump them all into the pan. San didn't mind the shifting of Wooyoung's shoulders under his cheek as he warmed Wooyoung's back. The pace of his breathing against Wooyoung's body was the most soothing thing Wooyoung had ever experienced.

Wooyoung could stay in place and handle the pan on one side and the cutting on the other. Whenever a job required him to walk around, he delayed it for later and did everything he could without moving San first.

In the peaceful atmosphere of the quiet room and the first bird songs sounding outside of the window, Wooyoung felt as healed as he never had before. His broken heart had mended seamlessly and even if his brain still carried moments of horror and shock in its memory, it was blissfully ignorant towards them. Right now, only Wooyoung and San counted.

"San?" Wooyoung called his name without looking up from his cutting board. The rhythmic hack of his knife on the plastic mixed with the sizzling of the pan. The ingredients smelled nothing like the dish he was trying to do yet.

He didn't have all the ingredients for Shawarma at home either, so the rice version he had cooked with Seungyoun had to do.

San didn't lift his head, his breath warm against Wooyoung's shoulder.

"Yes, dearest?"

Wooyoung smiled, every path of him softening at the loving term he had got so used to. If anyone but San tried it on him, they would fail. In San's voice, it still carried the grace of Victorian England and Wooyoung was putty for it.

"Nothing. Just wanted to hear you reply."

San being with Wooyoung at any time of the day, responding to his calls and smiling when Wooyoung looked at him, made up for the pain of his prior lack. They weren't like usual boyfriends; would probably never be since San had seen millennia pass and Wooyoung had accompanied his many identities through them from time to time. San would never be a boring, regular person of this century.

In San combined the sides that Wooyoung adored so much. A love meant only for him and filled with all the devotion he could wish for and a timeless spirit that brought a certain intrigue and spice that a traditional lover wouldn't have.

Wooyoung was madly in love with San and knowing he was here; attached to Wooyoung's back and vigilant to his every request had Wooyoung positively swoon for him.

Wooyoung worked in silence, only interrupted by the occasional hum. From time to time, he and San muttered each other's names just to relish in the bliss of their answers. No need for Wooyoung to leave anymore. No lack of an answer from San because of his death.

The flat smelled wonderfully of the dish when Wooyoung put in the last spices. San lifted his head in curiosity, peering at the pan over Wooyoung's shoulder.

"What are you making?"

Wooyoung grinned to himself and pulled the rice from its spot. When he stretched to get some plates out of the cabinet, San supported him with firm hands on his waist.

"Can you smell it yet?" He replied, delighted about the fascination in San's voice.

"It smells like memories," San said as he reached into the drawer next to Wooyoung to get spoons for them. He knew his way around the kitchen so well by now, making Wooyoung melt about the domestic comfort in his actions.

"Can you guess from when?"

San ultimately had to detach himself from Wooyoung to set the table. He took his heat with him but left lingering touches on Wooyoung's back and hips whenever he returned to carry something else over. Wooyoung taste-checked his dish and added some salt, then it was done. With ceremonious steps, he carried the pan and the rice over to the table and set them down. San breathed in the fragrant steam while he poured their water.

"Most of the places I've been to, I revisited, so I think I should be able to tell. Is it from a time you and I saw each other?" San's eyes glinted with pique at their guessing game. Wooyoung's grin broadened.

"It is. This dish still exists in similar versions of it, but I believe the old taste can't be recreated."

San pondered for a moment longer while Wooyoung piled the foods on their plates. He nearly forgot to take off his apron, but San did it for him and hung it over the back of his chair.

When San's eyes lit up with the answer, Wooyoung set the plate down in front of him. The man had his spoon in his hand faster than Wooyoung could motion for him to word his guess.

"It's Babylon, isn't it? Food from back then?" The excitement in San's voice made Wooyoung beam at him.

"Try it, tell me what you think."

San didn't wait another second. He dug in and shovelled a spoonful of hot food into his mouth, not minding how his eyes teared up. Fond, Wooyoung watched him, not eating yet to receive San's feedback.

San moaned around the taste as soon as his mouth was free again. He clasped his hand over his lips, chuckling at himself for the reaction.

"Maybe I was a fool. You do cook as good as you look. This is wonderful. It's like travelling back in time." With a dreamy sigh, San took another bite and then another.

Wooyoung watched him for a moment, already sated with pride. By the time he picked up his spoon, San's face glowed with enthusiasm over the food. He pouted as he ate, dimples on constant display between his bites. Wooyoung took his first taste without letting San out of his eyes. Their legs intertwined under the table.

"Did you plan this specifically for me?" San asked as soon as he could speak again. He was halfway through his portion without showing signs of slowing down. Wooyoung was glad he had prepared a lot.

"I did. I wanted to spoil you once you were here with me. So I wanted to try out a dish that accompanied us through time. Since British cuisine sucks and I already know how to cook every Italian dish there is, only this was left to learn."

Wooyoung's eyes fell on the dangling pendant under San's collar when the man leaned forward to take another bite. His little sigh warmed Wooyoung's heart once more.

"I love it lots. You will have to teach me next time."

"As long as you don't neglect your duty of back-hugging, that's fine with me," Wooyoung smiled. San gave him a cheerful nod before he went back to his food.

No meal Wooyoung ever ate was as satisfying as this one. San kept dousing Wooyoung in compliments and Wooyoung sucked them all up like a sponge, his heart swelling for San. After they had finished, no leftovers had escaped San's hungry body. Wooyoung went to clean the dishes with a giggle while San leaned back in his chair, spacing out in post-dinner delight.

Wooyoung cleaned their dishes in peace and set them down on the rack to dry. He didn't demand San to help, too soft with the man's basking to interrupt him.

Wooyoung didn't expect San to come over, but while he was scrubbing the pan, two arms came to engulf Wooyoung's waist again. Sated and contented, San leaned against Wooyoung like a cat twisting on a warm stone. Wooyoung held him up with a grin.

"That good?"

"The best I ever had. Thank you for taking such good care of me." San pressed a kiss to Wooyoung's jaw. His warm lips lingered there and Wooyoung shuddered with the pleasure of his adoration.

"Is there a way I can thank you?" San's breath brushed Wooyoung's ear, making it tingle. Wooyoung squirmed, never pulling away as San's grip tightened in response.

"You already did a lot for me. You spent the entire past taking care of me," Wooyoung reminded him. San didn't take no for an answer.

"That was centuries ago. Tell me what you want now. Want me to run you a bath and massage you? Take you out on a date later?"

Wooyoung whined. He wanted all of those things, wanted to spend every minute with San, doing all the trivial things other couples did. With no thieves, Viking rituals, or witty dinner parties involved.

"Or perhaps this?"

Wooyoung's hands flew onto the edge of the sink to steady himself when San rolled his clothed hips against Wooyoung. The movement crowded Wooyoung against the kitchen counter.

A spark of excitement ignited in Wooyoung's stomach. The idea of desecrating his virgin home was an attractive one that he had a hard time resisting. With San pressed against him so conveniently, there was no reason to say no.

Wooyoung's reply was nonverbal. His sole response was to grind his behind back into San, making him feel it.

With a chuckle, San angled Wooyoung's head so he could kiss him over his shoulder. Sweet and warm in the food-smelling heat of Wooyoung's home, their lips moulded into each other.

"Good pick," San breathed against Wooyoung's lips.