Noah stood in the kitchen, demonstrating how to slice vegetables.

Micah tried to mimic the motion with the kitchen knife, but instead of cutting the carrot, he nicked his finger.

At that same moment, Micah's expression twisted as if he expected laughter or cruelty, but Noah didn't laugh. He wasn't that kind of person.

His eyes flashed with concern immediately before softening with amusement.

"Maybe you should watch instead," Noah said gently, taking the knife from him.

This seemed to have hurt Micah's pride, which was the exact opposite of what Noah wanted to do.

Oh god no! I wasn't trying to upset him!

He thought for a second and remembered what Micah said about wanting to cook the fish. The fish sat in a large bowl, already cleaned and descaled.

He placed it on the counter and grabbed a handful of different spices.

"Well... you said you wanted to cook the fish, but... how about you season it instead?"

Micah considered this carefully. "Hm. Okay."

He gingerly picked up a spice bottle labeled Garlic Powder. He studied it for a second before removing the lid. Then he inhaled its scent before deciding to dust some over the fish.

Noah watched him, mesmerized by how focused he was on smelling every spice before choosing the ones he deemed worthy.

Who knew watching a werewolf smell spices could be so attractive?

I really thought he was all talk and no bite, but he seemed like he really knew what he was doing.

Even if he doesn't look familiar with the spices.

"Micah?" Noah leaned against the counter to get a better look at the fish.

Micah didn't turn but answered, "Yes, human."

Noah frowned. There it was again with the human thing.

He ignored it for now and asked his question.

"Why do you smell the spices? You know I can just tell you what they are..."

"I know that. I smell them because it helps me make better flavor choices."

His posture was calmer now, almost at peace with what he was doing.

"It does? I heard werewolves had a strong sense of smell, but I didn't know about that."

Noah looked excited now.

"There's a lot humans don't know about us," Micah said in what was supposed to be a solemn voice.

"Tell me more then."

"No."

"Why no? I'm curious, though. You say no every time I ask questions." Noah's face fell just a bit.

Micah turned to look at Noah, and the expression on his face was so smug.

"You're enjoying this."

"Very much so."

"Wow... and here I was getting to know my new roommate."

A smile spread across Noah's lips. "You're so mean."

Micah looked ready to laugh, and his ears were twitching back and forth in what Noah decided was happiness.

This guy is so annoying.

"Ugh... fine. What do you want?"

"You eat the fish, and I'll tell you more."

"That is not a fair trade!" Noah crossed his arms stubbornly and pouted.

"I'll keep the information to myself then," Micah said with a sly grin.

"Fine. But I'm not going to like it."

"Mhm. I've finished seasoning it if you want to start cooking."

Micah's tail swished excitedly.

Noah nodded before grabbing a pan and walking toward the stove.

"So... tell me then."

"Tell you what?"

"The history behind werewolves' sense of smell."

"When our ancestors found the Devil's Triangle, they had no way of knowing what was edible and what wasn't, so our sense of smell came in handy to find food. Otherwise, our race would've died out millennia ago," Micah explained in a calm voice while Noah stopped everything he was doing just to listen.

"How did you guys know what was poisonous and what wasn't?" Noah chimed in, keen on keeping him talking.

"Well... if a plant was poisonous, it had a sour and strong smell that identified it as poisonous."

"So, I'm guessing the non-poisonous ones had, like, a sweet smell?"

"Indeed."

"Hm... we should start cooking now. It's getting late," Noah said, turning on the stove.

Within minutes, the wonderful aroma of fish filled the air, and Noah's mouth was watering.

The fish looked absolutely incredible. It looked better than most restaurant meals. Noah desperately wanted to know Micah's recipe, but the man wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

Once the food was finally ready, Noah eagerly filled two bowls, one of them significantly larger than the other considering Micah ate far more than Noah ever could.

They sat at the dining table, the overhead lights glowing warmly over the food.

Micah was already eating.

Wait, no. Devouring the bowl like he hadn't eaten all day. Which he probably hadn't.

Although it smelled like heaven, Noah was still hesitant to eat. He brought a small bite to his lips.

Micah watched him with a delighted expression, hoping he'd like it.

Finally, Noah parted his lips, and the moment the food hit his tongue, his taste buds started partying.

The baked potato melted on his tongue, and the perfectly seasoned fish burst with flavor in his mouth, leaving a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

It tasted like... home.

Like his mother's cooking. The way she'd take her time seasoning everything and making sure it was perfect.

The warmth remained in Noah's chest long after he finished eating.

Later that night, Noah cleaned the dishes while Micah rested on the couch as usual.

Noah walked to his room and changed into his sleepwear.

The room was quiet as Noah lay down. He was tired but felt happier than he'd been in a long, long time.

Sleep didn't come easily as he continued staring at the ceiling, replaying the entire day.

Then his door creaked open. Micah stood there, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

His ears were pinned back from what Noah could make out in the dim lighting.

"I... I feel scared," he admitted softly.

Noah's heart rate sped up.

Micah...

...felt scared.

He searched the man's expression, hoping it was a joke, but it felt too real.

Noah didn't say anything and continued staring at Micah.

"Can I sleep with you?"

Noah's face burned bright red.

"This is my bed!" he squeaked, hiding his face in his pillow.

"Please?"

Micah had never said please before.

He was the kind of person who ordered people around, not said please...

Not like he meant it.

Noah's heart skipped a beat.

"I... fine."

Micah's face brightened instantly, and he climbed in, lying stiffly on his side.

It was quiet for a few minutes. That is, until Micah decided to return to his commanding personality.

"Come here."

"W-what?! I will not just..."

Noah couldn't finish because Micah pulled him against his chest with ease, as if this were completely normal.

Noah squirmed, his face turning nuclear red.

"Let me go, you pervert!"

"No."

Micah's voice was calm and steady, as if this was exactly what was supposed to happen.

"When I let you come here, I didn't mean this!"

This is kidnapping!

I am being cuddled against my will.

Micah didn't answer and just held him tighter.

The warmth of Micah's body seeped into Noah, and the walls surrounding his heart melted.

Not all the way. Just enough to feel safe.

His body is so warm...

So comfortable.

I could stay here forever.

In his arms.