Beidou kicked the door open with her boot, arms full of takeout bags, the smell of fried rice and dumplings flooding into the apartment. “I brought enough to feed an army,” she called out, grinning as she kicked her shoes off by the door.

Kazuha looked up from the couch where he was curled with a book, a soft smile already forming. “Or just you on a Tuesday,” he said, setting the book aside.

Beidou snorted and dropped the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Hey, I’m hungry. Work was brutal today. Some guy argued with me for twenty minutes about car tires. Tires, Kazuha.”

He came over and started unpacking the food, opening the containers like it was a sacred ritual. “That does sound exhausting,” he said gently, brushing his hand along hers as he passed her a box of sesame chicken.

Beidou leaned against the counter, watching him. “You always look so peaceful. Like nothing ever gets to you.”

Kazuha gave her that half-smile, the kind that made her chest warm. “That’s because you carry enough fire for both of us.”

She laughed, loud and open, then pulled him in by the front of his hoodie, kissing him without hesitation. When she pulled back, her grin softened. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always,” he said, touching her forehead with his.

They ended up eating on the couch, Beidou with her legs thrown over his lap, the TV playing something neither of them was really watching. Kazuha rested his hand over her ankle, calm and content, while Beidou snuck bites from his plate when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He noticed every time. And let her.