Fourteen

Kuro

Kuro knocked on the door to Marie's apartment. There was nothing in the hallway or on the door to indicate it was different from any of the other units, but he was almost sure his steps would have brought him here, to this door, regardless.

She opened the door and immediately stepped back to let him in. "Did the code work okay for you?"

Something eased inside him. Kuro nodded. "Door code let us into the lobby, and we caught the first elevator up. Just like you said."

The moment he was inside the entryway of her apartment, she let the door close behind him and turned the bolt. He felt her wards go back up. He toed off his shoes and placed them on her shoe rack. He paused, realizing there were now two pairs of house slippers that hadn't been there when they'd first arrived. She must have put them out for him and Joe. Warmth bloomed in his chest to match the warmth of his partner against his back. Sure, they were the disposable kind one put out for guests, but they were an indication of their welcome in her home and the consideration she had for them.

"Is that…" Marie asked from behind him. "Is that one of those dog backpacks?"

Joe squirmed in the pack on his back. Kuro glanced back at her. "Yes."

Her eyes were wide and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth, but he caught the sparkle of amusement in her gaze. "That's a good solution. All his tails are stuffed in there?"

Joe whined.

Kuro tipped his head toward him. "It's not comfortable, but it works. The concierge said he was cute and asked if he was a Shiba Inu."

A muffled giggle came out of Marie. "The building is dog friendly. That works."

She looked down at his shoes on the rack. Hers were tiny compared to his. Hah. He could probably slide one of her flats right inside his shoe. He slid his feet into a pair of the slippers she'd left out.

He turned back to her. "Thanks for these."

"Oh." She blinked. "No problem."

She had plant stands with natural light lamps set up along the hallway and they shone softly on her face. She was dressed in loose, comfortable lounge wear that looked soft to the touch. Or maybe he just wanted a reason to reach out and touch her.

Joe whined again and managed to stretch his neck enough to nip Kuro's ear.

Marie jumped. "We should get him out of there. Would it be easier for you to set him down, or do you want to turn around and I'll open the backpack?"

Kuro lifted one side of his mouth in what he hoped was enough of a smile for her to know he was amused. Then he turned so she could let Joe out.

Moments later, Joe was in her arms, panting happily. He even gave her a lick on the cheek.

"Hey."

They both froze and looked at him. Joe, at least, appeared completely unrepentant. But Marie's eyes were wide and her shoulders had hunched a little, whether she was aware of it or not. Kuro regretted how abruptly that had come out.

For her, Kuro would try to be clearer about expressing himself, at least until she got to know him better. "That was for Joe. He shouldn't just go around licking you without permission. I apologize for doing it myself the other night."

Joe immediately tucked his nose under a paw. Good. Just because he was in a form she found cute, neither of them was going to sneak a familiarity she hadn't agreed to moving forward.

Marie smiled at him. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

She bent and let Joe down to stand on his own. Joe's ears drooped and he kept his head low, looking up at her.

She held her hand out to him, palm up. "I'd have appreciated you asking. You both asked when you were in human form and that made me feel really good."

Joe rolled onto his back, showing his belly.

"You don't have to do that," Marie protested. "I'm not that mad. We're just still…still…"

She seemed flustered. Kuro stepped forward slightly.

"Getting to know each other?" he offered.

She straightened abruptly. He swallowed against the sinking feeling in his gut. She was nervous around him. He didn't think she was this jumpy when she was with Joe in human form.

"Yes, exactly." She sounded slightly breathless. Still, she met his gaze and that wasn't nothing.

They continued to stand there. He wasn't sure what to say next and he didn't want to make her even more uncomfortable. Maybe he and Joe should have tried to find somewhere else to stay, near enough to be of help to her but not right in her space.

"I cooked, if you're hungry," she offered quietly. "I'm not sure if it's the kind of thing you like, or if you even eat breakfast so early. It's the sort of thing that keeps, though, so you can feel free to wait until you feel like eating."

He hesitated, but best to get it out there. "I am hungry, but the food won't help."

Great. That could be taken any number of ways and did nothing to reassure her or encourage her to get comfortable with him.

She was staring again, and her face was flushing. "I'm sorry. You both were starting to explain earlier. I don't know why I… I wasn't thinking…"

Normally, he'd have given up and retreated. The less said, the less damage he could do with miscommunication. But Joe wasn't going to be able to smooth anything over while Kuro found a way to express with actions what he'd failed to get across in words. Kuro figured he should try again.

"I can eat human food," he said quietly. "So can Joe. We enjoy the experience. But we could eat and eat and still be hungry. It won't sustain us. Human style meals are something we like taking part in for other reasons."

She pressed her lips together. "What can we do to help sustain you, then? I remember you said you wouldn't feed on me."

"No." He confirmed that as quickly as possible. He didn't want her to worry about that with either of them. "Even if we weren't worried about harming you, a single person couldn't sustain even one of us for long, much less both of us. We won't ask that of you."

Joe pressed a paw into the top of Marie's foot, expressing his agreement in his own way. Still, it was an issue to address, before Kuro became a danger to them both.

"I'll go out later today," Kuro said. It came out quick, the words clipped. "Joe will stay here with you, and I'll be back before sunset."

Her stare cut through him. She had a way of looking at a person, as if she could see through all the layers, all the walls a person might erect to protect themselves from the world. It wasn't judgment, not in the negative way people used the word. It was more of an assessment, made in less time than it took to blink. All at once, her posture changed in some infinitesimal way. She'd come to a conclusion and he had no idea what it was.

"Won't you need someone to keep watch?" she asked quietly. "You and Joe do that for each other, that's what you explained earlier."

Kuro hesitated.

"Joe can't go out in broad daylight and be your wingman or whatever. The dog backpack is only going to help so much." She stood taller and lifted her chin. "Joe can stay here inside my wards and I'll go with you."

"What?" Kuro blurted the question at the same time Joe yelped. The offer had taken them both by surprise.

"You—or was it Joe? One of you, anyway, offered to show me. It's something I'll need to know about you, as friends at least, and I think we're headed for more. There's no reason to delay it when there's an equally practical reason for it to happen now. I just…" She hesitated for a moment, then gave herself a little shake. "I'm not going to march out there with you and demand you go do whatever it is you do while I watch. I'll need instructions to be there for you in a way that's helpful. Is it too soon for us to share that kind of thing?"

It was faster than Kuro had ever considered with any other partner. Even he and Joe hadn't compared the ways each of them needed to hunt until they'd been spending real time together for a few months. They'd only had days with Marie, most of them in unusual circumstances.

Kuro glanced at Joe. His partner was watching him, waiting. Kuro swallowed hard. It would've been better if this conversation had happened with Joe. Joe was better at communicating with others, putting his thoughts into clever words.

Kuro could speak with random people just fine, when he didn't care what they thought or felt. When he didn't care if they took his brevity for rudeness. This was different. It mattered that Marie understand him and he didn't want to cause her distress if he flubbed it along the way.

There was also the actual way he fed.

"I'm not embarrassed of how I feed," he said.

"I didn't mean to imply—"

She sounded like she was about to apologize and he held up a hand to stop her. He continued, "I was talking out loud. Finishing a thought. Sorry. I started in the wrong place."

"Okay." She didn't sound upset. Maybe a little confused. That was justified.

He could do better if she wasn't standing there in the hallway of her apartment, with a hundred percent of her attention focused on him.

"You said you had breakfast ready. Let's go in, and you can sit and eat while I tell you about it." He blew out a breath. "That would be easier. You wouldn't have to stand."

That was what was distracting him, really. It wasn't her attention. He liked her attention on him. Her mind was sharp, and even if he didn't know what she thought of him, he liked the way she gave her attention so fully to him when he talked.

He wasn't the talkative person in the room, ever. Joe was more often the center of attention. Kuro didn't mind. He preferred it, actually. It made it easier to observe the people around him. But when it came to a lover, someone he was in a relationship with, he wanted someone who paid attention to him every bit as much as Joe did.

Marie didn't say anything, only nodded her head with a hesitant smile and motioned for him to join her. She stepped farther into her apartment, motioning to the counter. "I made congee and there's a bunch of side dishes to go with it."

Her rice cooker had been pulled to the center of the counter, and next to it was an array of glass containers. Kuro recognized a few of the things. At least one of the containers contained napa cabbage kimchi, and another had radish kimchi. There was also some kind of grilled fish, probably mackerel, and what looked like flaked, salted salmon. There was a container of eggs, still in their grayish-looking shells and another of soy eggs too. She also had a plastic tub of what looked like pork floss.

"You didn't cook all this while we were gone." Wait. No. He wanted to smack his own head with his palm. That hadn't come out right at all. Joe was sitting there, glaring at him.

But Marie was bustling at the counter, getting a bowl for herself. "No. I live alone, and I travel back and forth from my cabin on the consortium grounds. So I make these side dishes and carry them back and forth in an insulated tote. All these containers have lids with tight seals. Makes it easy for me to have a few fresh veggies for a meal or two and just keep dry staples here like rice and noodles. Then I have these to add to my carbs to make them not-boring."

"Not-boring," he repeated, chuckling. He liked the way she put it.

She shrugged and smiled. "Seattle has a lot of good food choices, so I sometimes eat out. Some of my favorite restaurants are within walking distance of my place. With this system, I don't feel guilty about not finishing what I have in the fridge when the mood strikes me to eat out. All of these will hold for more than just a day or two. It doesn't matter if I skip eating them for a meal out. At the same time, these are go-to favorites for me. So I don't have to think hard when I know I should eat but don't have the energy to figure something out."

As she spoke, she spooned herself a generous helping of congee. Steam wafted through the apartment, the comforting smell of cooked rice. He thought it carried a savory element too, maybe some kind of umami.

"That's not just plain rice."

Joe walked over and sat on Kuro's foot. Okay, that hadn't sounded like the polite inquiry or conversational prompt he'd intended, either. He wasn't sure how to fix it. Really, he was much more eloquent when he was with Joe. Hadn't he been smoother when they'd first invited Marie out for boba tea? Maybe they needed to go for boba.

She glanced at Kuro and raised an eyebrow. "You can smell it from over there? I usually add chicken broth, but since I wasn't sure if Joe would have some, I used vegetable stock instead and a mushroom powder seasoning. I love it for the umami it can add."

Kuro lifted his foot, not quite scooping Joe into the air, but giving his boyfriend's ass an impromptu lift. Their lady seemed to be understanding Kuro just fine. He could and would try to do better with communication, but there was a certain distance she'd need to come to meet him or this wasn't going to work. So far, she seemed perfectly willing, and even had a knack for adjusting to the way he conversed.

She didn't add everything onto her congee, he noticed. This morning, she added a generous bunch of the pork floss, then she shelled one of the grayish eggs, revealing the distinct dark brown translucent jelly look of a century egg. She cut it into thin wedges and arranged half of them in her bowl of congee next to the pork floss. She set the other half aside, maybe for later. Joe had wandered over, his nose lifted and twitching as he considered the scent.

"I'll have a bowl with the other half of that century egg," Kuro said hesitantly. "If you don't mind."

He didn't want to take it if she was saving it for later. She had another, so it wasn't like she couldn't have another if she wanted one. It was just that a little went a long way with century eggs, so she might not have wanted to eat a whole other one. He'd help her eat it if that seemed to be the case later.

"Sure." Marie seemed completely unbothered. She turned and gave him a smile. "No questions about what any of this is? I know we're all Asian American, it's hard to miss. But that doesn't tell me much about what foods you might enjoy, especially when you don't need this for sustenance."

She handed him a bowl. She had spooned a helping of congee into the bowl, steaming and silky looking, and arranged half the century egg pieces on top. The steam from the congee lifted the sharp scent from the creamy yolk into the air.

"I didn't like century eggs as a kid," she admitted. "There was too much bitter in the flavor, and I didn't like the color."

She moved to one side with her bowl and motioned for him to help himself to the rest. He gave himself a small helping of the mackerel and the salmon, just a bite each really. Smiling, he also took some of the pork floss. It'd been years since he'd had any over congee.

"I grew up calling them thousand-year-old eggs," Marie said as she stood next to him. "Did you want any?"

Kuro glanced at her and realized she had directed her inquiry to Joe. His partner shook his head and wandered over to her chaise, hopping up and making himself comfortable. She followed, so Kuro followed as well. He hung back a little so she would take the other side of the couch, rather than leaving it for him and Joe like she had previously.

"The first time I had one, it was a terrible experience." Contrary to her statement, she scooped a segment of the preserved egg with some congee and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. "My father was a chef before he retired, and we were in one of his friends' restaurants. We were in the kitchen, and they gave me a whole one and told me to try it."

Kuro stopped and blinked. The process of preservation gave the egg white a firm jelly texture in addition to the dark, clear tea appearance. The yolk became extremely soft and creamy, but also developed extremely strong flavors. "That would have been…"

"Kindest way to describe it would be an umami bomb in my mouth," Marie finished for him with a wry grin. "As a kid, I thought it tasted like I imagined sulfur would. I didn't try it again for years, even though I intellectually knew it was meant to be enjoyed a little at a time with a lot of rice. My dad used to cut it up into teeny tiny pieces and mix it into his congee. Now, I think my adult palate is better at recognizing the complexity of the flavors, and I know to enjoy it a bit at a time. But it's funny what a rough introduction to a food can do, because first impressions stick with us for so long."

And that was what concerned Kuro about introducing Marie to the way he and Joe fed. Even though Joe grappled with a more voracious, bloodthirsty nature, Kuro's way of feeding was its own kind of harsh. He was nervous about upsetting Marie, or worse, scaring her.

Kuro nodded. "I was born here. Both my parents are Japanese, but my mother was born in Japan, and my father was born here. They met in college, married, had me. I grew up bilingual, and we mostly ate a mix of Japanese and American foods in the house. I didn't try century eggs until college, when a bunch of friends stopped in Philadelphia's Chinatown for something to eat after we went clubbing."

"You grew up on the East Coast? Me too. Though I went to college in Colorado." Marie hummed as she continued to enjoy her breakfast. "We always had rice in the rice cooker. Sometimes we'd take a scoop of the regular steamed rice and just add hot water from the electric hot water dispenser."

"One of my favorite appliances to have in a kitchen," Kuro murmured. "Convenient to have liters of water kept ready at a constant temperature for instant noodles, tea, whatever. Better than having a kettle taking up space on the stove or waiting for an electric kettle to heat the water every time."

Marie smiled. "They really are convenient. Other times, my dad would have an actual pot of congee on the stove in the kitchen. We always had side dishes and leftovers in the refrigerator, so breakfasts were easy. We didn't really do eggs and toast or bowls of cereal or oatmeal, the way a lot of my school friends did. But my dad and I would make scrambled eggs and scrapple with toast on Saturday mornings."

Joe sneezed. Hard to say whether it had been a coincidence or in protest to the mention of scrapple. Kuro wasn't going to call him out on it.

"I never understood the appeal of scrapple." Kuro shrugged, spooning another mouthful of congee so he couldn't say something worse.

Marie scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue briefly, then smiled. "You're missing out. Cooked with skill, scrapple is amazing."

"I'll take your word for it." He wasn't aware of any place that even sold scrapple in Seattle, and while he was sure it could be acquired, he wasn't particularly eager to find some.

"My dad did a lot of mixing up of food, though, using a lot of recipes that were Chinese mainland in inspiration with a global interpretation." Marie glanced up at her array of sides on the counter. "He was always ready to try combining elements of foods we encountered outside our home with the foods my parents made. My mom didn't love cooking as much or as often as my dad did, but she had her absolute favorite Korean foods from when she was a kid. They grew up in the United States too, so a lot of what we ate and what I eat now is a couple of generations removed from anything anyone might call authentic, I guess."

Kuro considered that. "I'm interested in whether flavors are traditional versus fusion just for the story of why the choice was made, but I'm not too worried about the definition of authentic."

She looked at him, seemingly startled, then she bit her lip and nodded. "Agreed."

Joe was sitting next to her, his tongue lolling out as he grinned wide. Kuro ate more congee to hide his embarrassment. He guessed he must've gotten comfortable enough to have said something right. Best to leave it at that and not ruin the moment.