Chapter Text
Angel wasn’t really all that pressed on making sure that Lee didn’t see what they were drawing.
In reality, it was so natural to them to just… draw wherever that they didn’t even recognize that what they were drawing was technically porn. When they were still living with their roommates, the two of them treated their regular furry work just the same as the weirder stuff, so those two had quickly learned not to glance over their shoulder while they were drawing.
Lee, however, had already seen Angel’s “safe” furry work - it was up on the fridge right now. He also didn’t have the prior knowledge that Angel would just draw whatever, wherever, so looking over their shoulder was a bad idea.
It wasn’t even like he was trying to snoop or anything— he had seen Angel draw plenty of times and it’s not like they ever had a problem with him seeing their art before! It wasn’t a reality that he had considered.
Until he glanced over their shoulder while they were on the couch, as he was coming in the door, and… he honestly wasn’t sure what he was looking at at first.
“Oh. Hey.”
They didn’t even process it at first - they leaned their head back, looking at him upside-down from their position on the couch, and—
“...Oh.”
They pressed their hand flat on what they were drawing, splayed on the page, mostly covering the sketch. “Sorry.”
Two anthropomorphic characters, one a rabbit and the other a dog, but these two looked different from the ones pinned up on the fridge. The dog was far larger than the rabbit - it had the critter caught in its maw, the teeth, drool, and tongue having a level of detail and shading to them that far outweighed the rest of the piece.
“Um. Hello,” he stated. His expression remained neutral, but they knew what he looked like when he was flustered now. The slightest blush on his cheeks, the way his eyes darted around the room instead of focusing on them— like they were too much for him to take in right then.
“…I bought. Groceries? For that recipe you wanted to try.”
He bit his lower lip.
…Usually when they drew the dog and rabbit characters it was some kind of representation of the two of them, right? Even if they insisted that wasn’t the case.
So what was the symbolism here? Did they feel trapped? Like… prey? The idea made anxiety trickle down his back. But, no… the expression on the rabbit hadn’t been fearful. More… observational. It was…
He didn’t understand. He wanted to understand. He wanted.
“Thanks. Uh.”
They deftly flipped the page of the sketchbook— the one Lee had bought them so they didn’t have to keep using scratch paper— to a blank one.
“Sorry. I didn’t remember you were coming home so soon. I wouldn’t’ve been working on my, uh.”
They fussed a little with their jacket’s pullstrings, chewing on the plastic bit at the end that was nearly destroyed from them doing the same thing time and time again.
“...I was already paid for this one, so I’ve gotta finish it. The client’s nice, but I feel like they’re annoyed with how long I’ve been taking.”
“Oh,” he raised his eyebrows, taking in the new information and applying it to his worldview.
Okay. So they’d taken some commission work before— that made sense with how many comments they got asking about it. Taking one or two commissions wouldn’t be that hard to figure out, and if they had time now, it made sense that they’d want to get caught up on anything they’d missed.
He just didn’t know they were… comfortable drawing this sort of thing. It felt intimate, even if he couldn’t exactly pin down why that was the case. Sure there had been similar art on the pages of the people they interacted with online, but he had always assumed that was more of a tolerance thing than something they actively engaged with.
But… maybe he was wrong, and they did have an interest in more… esoteric artistry. Or maybe it was just a commission and nothing more.
“It’s… good that you’re being compensated for your work.”
“Eh. This one was from an emergency sale, so it’s like… thirty bucks?”
They hesitate a little, fidgeting with the pencil in their hand. It’s clear they were in the groove before - that they wanted to get back to it, use that short burst of energy to finish something up before it left. But they couldn’t really do that with Lee still looking…
“People keep telling me to raise my prices. But if I raise them, nobody buys them. I honestly make less doing this per hour than I did at my job…”
Lee thought for a moment as he walked over to the kitchen, putting the groceries away.
“Well, I think it’s about… finding a balance,” he gestured with one hand, opening the fridge with the other. “And finding the right audience. A lot of your fans are women in their early 20’s, so they’re not going to have much money to spend on art. It is a luxury good… and they’re likely to be paying off loans or trying to find a home at that age.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully, sliding a box of cereal into the cabinet.
“And… you don’t need to be earning money consistently. I’d never expect that from you, and if there’s anything you need, I’ll take care of that, but— you also deserve the recognition that having people pay for your art would bring.”
Angel just laughed dryly. “Again, I’m just finishing this because I had it pending before I moved out… which means I owe it. If they hadn’t paid already, I would’ve just asked if we could cancel, but…”
They flipped back to the page with the commission, hastily sketching down some more detail and shading lines. “There’s this joke in the community. That all artists just have the same twenty dollars that they pass around. It’s kind of like that.”
He nodded slowly. He hadn’t ever really… been part of a community like that before. But it made sense.
“I— would you… want a budget for commissioning artwork? Or… I mean, since we are moving soon, maybe…”
He trailed off, rocking back and forth very slightly.
“…If you… wanted to do some pieces for our new space…? I’d compensate you fairly.”
“Like some kind of renaissance patronage? You really like my art so much that you just let me live in your house and keep making weird art that you pay me lots for?”
They snicker. “I used to daydream about that. Living back in like, Greece or Rome and making big marble statues all just for one guy who paid for all my work. ‘Cuz he liked it so much.”
Lee didn’t turn around to look at them for a long moment. He held his breath.
“…”
When he did turn to look at them it was only halfway, but his face was bright red.
“I… like your art.”
“Yeah? You do?”
Angel flipped a few pages in their notebook, and doodled something very quickly - before promptly tearing the page out, holding it up to show Lee. “This is you. This is what you look like right now.”
Another dog, but this one had Lee’s haircut. He was on his knees, holding up a large sum of bills in a very firm grasped hand, looking at what seemed to be a piece of paper with a rabbit shaking its ass.
There was a speech balloon connected to the dog that said “PLEASEEEE LET ME BUY ALL YOUR FURRY ART PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE”
Lee leaned in, squinting at the piece before reeling backwards. “It’s—!!! Nothing like that,” he peeped, avoiding eye contact again. “I just— if thirty dollars is all other people are willing to pay, maybe… having more examples of work from higher paying clientele would help!”
He was sweating. His eyes kept darting back to the doodle, pupils expanding, before looking someplace else. It was kind of ridiculous how easily flustered he was given… everything.
“You want to buy my art sooooo bad,” Angel teased, setting the page aside on the couch, before doodling something else while he tried to calm down, continuing to put away groceries.
This one was more rushed than the other one, but it was a picture of that dog again - with more chiseled features, holding up a blood pressure cuff, with a cursive “May I touch your arm?” In a speech bubble this time. With flower petals surrounding it.
“Sixty dollars.”
He blinked, wide eyed. “…Is that me?”
“I dunno,” Angel said, “is it? It could be.”
They grinned. “Rights to the character, with a complimentary reference sheet, costs 150.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Is… is that including the 60 for this one? Or is it 210 in total?”
He was— wait, he was actually sticking his hand in his pocket and reaching for his wallet. What?
Angel wasn’t sure how much Lee made at his job. He wouldn’t tell them. Said that would only make them feel more guilty for staying, which… was admittedly true.
“It’s 250 now because you asked,” they teased.
His eyes went a little wide at that. His eyes shifted down to the wallet that was now in his hands.
“…I— I think I only actually have $200 in cash on me. I can get the rest later…? I’d offer to send it to you electronically, but you’d likely lose a lot of it in fees, and if you make above a certain amount, we might have to report it come tax season, which… I know you said that you don’t enjoy the minuta of running a full-on business.”
“It was a joke. The character’s yours for free. It’s your OC now.”
They got up off the couch, shuffling over to hand the two doodles over to Lee. “These two will be twenty bucks, though. Ten each. They’re just scribbles.”
“Oh. N—No, that’s—…”
He frowned, pursing his lips.
“…”
He handed them $100. Cold hard cash. Unmarked bill.
“...Yeah, I’m not taking this.” Angel handed it back instantly. “Fifty, take it or leave it.”
He didn’t seem to like that idea. But… he disliked the idea of making Angel uncomfortable considerably more.
“Okay,” he sighed, defeated. “Um… is sixty okay, actually? The other hundred is in twenties.”
“No.” They say it as they reach their hand out. “Just kidding. You’re all good. The extra ten’s enough to cover the reference sheet.”
Lee actually whined at that. “You… undervalue your art. Significantly.”
He tapped his foot against the ground as he placed the money in their hand.
“…If you don’t want to accept the money… is there any other way I can make it up to you? We could… go to a fancy dinner? My treat, of course. I just don’t want you to feel… pressured. In any way.”
Lee was always preoccupied with letting Angel be in control of any situation whenever possible. He never wanted them to feel trapped or isolated— but he also wanted them to feel cared for and wanted. It was a balancing act that he would devote himself to fully. Anything for his Angel.
“You could take me out for dinner every night, and I wouldn’t say no,” they said, fussing to tuck their hair back - and, as always, failing at the action. It just flops back into their face. “...Don’t actually do that. You’ve got your need-to-do-that look in your eye. You can’t actually do that forever.”
The look faded, and he leaned against the counter, expression evening out. “I would miss your cooking too much to do that, I’m afraid.”
“That’s why I’d cook breakfast and lunch. Silly goose. In the theoretical world where you’d take me out to dinner every night.” They pushed past him to secure Lee’s new growing art hoard onto the fridge, with the few magnets he owned.
“Speaking of, you’re not taking me out tonight. I still need to make those tenderloins. We’ll go out tomorrow.”
They knew that Lee would agree to anything they said at this point, if they said it with enough pressure. He almost paid them 250 dollars for two random doodles. So, yeah. They were dining out tomorrow.
“You get to choose the place. I dunno any good places. I’ve only ever had… Olive Garden. At the fanciest.”
If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. His eyes were all wide again, all excited. They had him wrapped around their finger effortlessly.
“Um. Like…”
His cheeks burned.
“Like. As… a date?”
“We sleep in the same bed, Lee.”
They were already getting everything set up to start cooking on their own. But—
That wasn’t an answer?????
“That’s—“ his mouth was watering. “Different. Not! That I’m complaining! But… I didn’t…”
He fidgeted with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I practically slept on top of you last night. I drooled on your shoulder. I’m pretty sure I caught you wiping it off and then sticking your fingers in your mouth after.”
They didn’t bring that up before. Lee had thought that he’d deftly done it without them noticing.
He flinched backwards, face going pale.
“…Sorry. Sorry. I— I didn’t…”
He hunched his shoulders up, unable to make eye contact. Terrified.
“…I didn’t think you’d. See that.”
“It’s fine,” they waved one hand idly in the air, as the other prepped the pan on the stove. “Wasn’t as gross as you taking my bloody and snotty tissues from the trash bin, in the grand scheme of things.”
They made eye contact easily - almost casually. “You could’ve just asked, though. If you really wanted like… samples? Or whatever.”
“I— honestly wasn’t… thinking. It made sense at the time. And I wore gloves. For that part. It…”
He wrung his hands together.
“It felt… unfair, to me. That the parts of yourself that were left behind— your blood, mostly— that it was just going to someone who wouldn’t understand how important and special you are? And once I learned you were a part of the control group— that it was actually going to waste, and you’d been in pain for nothing, I…”
He breathed. Slow and steady.
“It felt like… something I could do to appreciate you. To make up for it. And… I never thought you’d have to know about it.”
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t, like… draw your own blood to replace with mine. To send back to your lab. Since they weren’t gonna use it anyways, right? That’d be a little cleaner than keeping those tissues, I think. Then you’d at least be able to like… I dunno. Can people make jewelry out of blood? Something like that.”
They waved a spatula idly in the air as they brought everything to a nice simmer - filling the air with a meaty scent. “Or you could’ve drank it. Seems like something you’d like doing.”
He shook his head.
“I… didn’t want to risk something like that. They were still testing the control samples— that’s how it works. They would have known immediately.”
Lee tapped his own vein with his fingers. “You’re type A, I’m type AB. I briefly considered the idea of staging some kind of malfunction with the draw kit, taking a second sample and keeping the ‘failed’ sample for myself, but I quickly realized that the idea of making you endure that much blood loss was… it wouldn’t be worth it. Putting you in any amount of undue pain or stress would not have been worth it.”
“Aww. You’re sweet.”
It isn’t said with a hint of irony - they did think it was sweet. They were a fan of not being in pain - even if Lee asked now for a sample, they probably would hesitate before deciding if they actually were willing to give some up.
But also…
“You didn’t have anyone else who was type A coming in as the control group? You could’ve done it to them.”
He blinked. Furrowed his brow.
“…why didn’t I think of that?”
They tisked with their tongue, shaking their head back and forth. “See, even I could think of that one. You’ve really gotta step up your stalker game.”
“I mean… you live here with me now. You let me watch you sleep. There’s not much more I could possibly want. I couldn’t be happier than I am with you by my side.”
His cheeks were flushed again. Wonder what’s on his mind.
“True. You’re really lucky. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone ever actually succeeding at stalking someone until they got to keep them in their house all the time.”
They flipped the meat in the pan, causing it to bubble and sizzle. “Like a bugggg.”
He squinted, then shrugged.
“…If you were a bug, you’d be… a blue morpho butterfly. I have a taxidermy of one upstairs that I inherited. They have brown patterns on the ventral side, almost like eyes, but the dorsal sides of their wings are a beautiful shade of blue.”
“If you were a bug, you’d be a brown jumping spider,” they said, without a beat. “Scary-cute. But also really harmless.”
Something about them calling him cute and harmless made his stomach flutter. What was wrong with him?!
“…Cute?”
“A biiiiig slice of cutie-pie. Mmm. Pie. I should make you pie sometime.”
They start working on getting all the right seasonings in with the food. It’ll take a while, but it’s always worth it - cooking something new for Lee, seeing his eyebrows raise slightly when he liked it. “Emphasis on big.”
They’re referring to his muscles. They’d seen him go to and from the gym a couple of times.
The image of such domesticity was doing things to his mind. Of them making a pie, letting it cool on the windowsill, smiling up at him as he got home from work.
Maybe, if they wanted… feeding him a bite while they sat on the counter, smiling at him. His.
He could be normal about it. He could. But also, no he couldn’t.
“I’d like that… a lot. I’d like anything if you made it.”
He said it with such fervor, such complete overwhelming honesty it was impossible not to believe him. Besides, he had proven his devotion by now.
But Angel still liked to test it, sometimes. It was nice to be wanted, to see how much they were wanted after their whole life being the exact opposite until now.
“Even if I made a mud pie?” They asked, clear amusement in their voice. “With twigs from the yard for garnish. Maybe even a few blades of grass. Really fancy.”
“…”
He thought about it for a moment.
“…I don’t think that’d be very healthy. But if you really wanted me to I would.”
It was impossible to tell if he was being serious or not.
“But would you like it?” They insisted. “I know you’d eat it, but would you be able to look me right in the eyes and say ‘mmmm, Angel, this is the best thing I’ve tasted in my entire life, please keep making it again for dessert because I love it so much’?”
…He was sweating.
“I would prefer not to lie to you. So I will have to ask you to not make this dish. I’m terribly allergic to… dirt.”
“You just lied. You’re not allergic to dirt. We looked through your microscope yesterday. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”
They were done preparing the meal, and were now dishing it out onto two plates - one for themself, the other for Lee.
He got that cute little half-smile on his face. The Lee equivalent of jumping for joy.
“Thank you, Angel. For everything.”
He took a deep breath, licked his lips, and moved to set the table for them.
“I’m sure even if you did feed me dirt, you’d find a way to make it taste good. Everything you make is wonderful.”
Did their heart flutter a little in their chest at that? Yes. But were they going to say it out loud? Absolutely not.
Instead, they set the plates out on the dining table. “Well, unlucky for you, you aren’t getting dirt tonight. Just salted rare beef tenderloin. I’ll do better next time.”
They said it with a big smile on their face. The slightly sarcastic one that Lee had gotten accustomed to seeing more and more these days. It felt so good to see them smile after what felt like a lifetime of a dark cloud looming over their head…
They were sunshine itself. He would do anything to see them happy.
“Ah. Woe is me. I suppose another night of food that would make a Michelin star chef apoplectic with envy is what I’ll have to accept.”
He smiled again. A bit wider, looking at them out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t exaggerating, but maybe he was biased. They’d had him purchase a lot of foods he had never tried before.
He didn’t consider himself a picky eater, just… an unpracticed eater. He knew what he liked and rarely ventured outside of that. But Angel opened up the whole world for him. Everything tasted good when they brought it to him. When they made it with their gentle hands, for him.
His mouth watered and he cut into the meat, plasma dripping onto the plate. It looked and smelled divine, and as he sunk his teeth into it, he made a soft sound, eyes fluttering shut.
They really were a good cook.
“Maybe I should go on a cooking show someday,” Angel mused, cutting a small slice for themself. “I always daydreamed about that kind of thing, when I’d watch those competitions with my family. Going on there with a big story about how I was doing it to get enough money to buy a house for me and my siblings. That kind of thing.”
They shuffled the meat on their plate a little, mixing it in the sauces. “...I did that with every game show I watched, though. I’d always think about the answers before everyone on the TV answered them. But maybe doing it in real life is harder than when you’re just watching.”
“I think you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Angel,” he nodded. “But also, those shows are rigged almost all of the time. The ones that aren’t are typically staged in some other way.”
He took another bite, humming thoughtfully. Then, gradually, his expression changed, eyes focusing on Angel.
“…I’d love to watch a cooking show run by you.”
“I kind of had an idea. Since, y’know, I might have to do other things, or be places where you’ll be home alone for a bit. Eventually.” They waved their fork in the air idly, ignoring their food as they spoke. “I could walk you through how to make some simple dishes…? It’d be good for you to know how to cook a few things. And it’d be fun to cook with you!”
He didn’t like the idea of them being alone, not for too long. What if they needed something, or got hurt? But… if that’s what they wanted.
“I would like that. Quite a lot.” He fidgeted in place. “Could you… teach me to cook some of your favorites?”
Angel went quiet for a second.
“Define… favorite?”
“…A food you would like if I made it for… you?”
He fidgeted with his hands, taking another bite to shut himself up.
He was being silly. He just… liked the idea of getting to return the favor for them every once in a while. The idea of Angel eating his cooking, being nourished by his hand… it was good. It made him feel fulfilled.
Angel hummed. They took a few more bites, clearly thinking over the question before jumping into an answer.
“I think… what if I taught you some staples? Stuff I’d make when I didn’t really have a lot of energy to cook, but also not… cereal. Like…”
They cut another piece off their plate. “Miso soup with ramen noodles. Simple cheese quesadilla. Homemade mac & cheese. Most of those are comfort foods, too, which means they’re great as a pick me up when you’re down.”
Lee nodded like he would be quizzed on this later— but then the movements slowed. “I… would appreciate that. I tend to be able to pick up new skills quickly if I am… shown the proper way to handle things.”
He fidgeted with his hands. He was sure if Angel taught him how to do anything, he would sear it into his mind like a brand. He never wanted to forget a single detail of anything they said to him.
“And… I think you’d be a good teacher. I enjoy watching you work on things. You’re… very skilled.”
They just snickered a little to themself at this. “Save the buttering up for the pan, okay?”
Then, they leaned over to give him a nudge - their head resting on his shoulder. “You’re skilled too, you know.”
He looked at them, cheek stuffed with meat. His eyes widened a little bit, and he broke eye contact as he swallowed. His cheeks flushed.
“…Thank you,” he said, licking his lips. “I… hope to be deserving of you.”
“You’re still hung up on that…?” They muttered, still poking their food around their plate. They weren’t a fast eater. “You killed someone for me, Lee.”
“I’m… sorry?” He looked at her with wide eyes, digging his thumb into the edge of the fork in his hand. “…I… know you disapprove of my methods. Which is why I want to do better.”
“I mean…”
Angel almost felt, partially, like it was their own fault. They’d made a few vent posts on a couple of their blogs about the situation - ones that did use the word ‘die’ a lot. It felt like an elephant in the room any time the topic came up in conversation - did Lee see those? If so, could they… blame him? He was a bit of a literal guy…
Probably best to veer the conversation away from it. “You’re helping me stay job-free, basically. You let me stay with no room and board. That’s better than anyone else who’s ever claimed to care about me has done.”
He furrowed his brow. “Of course I am. You hated that job. It… wasn’t safe for you, even without…”
He trailed off, expression still confused.
“If I couldn’t take care of you completely, I wouldn’t deserve you. It’s the only reason why I let things… get this far. I’m completely confident in my ability to take care of you, Angel. If nothing else, you deserve a life where you’re taken care of.”
“You’re sweet,” they hum, a mirrored sentiment. If there’s anything Lee was, his sentiment was that. “What would you do if you couldn’t take care of me completely? Would you still have a cruuuush on me?”
His face went bright red and he made a soft, choked sound. “I— gh…”
He can’t lie to them. He won’t. So.
“…Yes. I’d have to find someone who could. Or at least do what I could to support you from a distance.” He seemed to be genuinely thinking about it as his blush faded, replaced by confident assurance.
“If it was financial trouble, I’d pick up more hours at other clinics. If I felt unfit to handle your needs emotionally, I happen to know several qualified psychologists, therapists, and psychiatrists that could help you… If you became ill and needed me to physically support you, then I could go through the process of potentially getting legal guardianship so that I could care for you full time while not having to worry about finances.”
Huh. He had this figured out, just like that. It was that easy.
Angel finished up their dish, and leaned on his shoulder with their head - they’d fallen asleep like this, sometimes. On the couch, usually, when the two of them watched movies.
“Well, I’m glad you don’t have to do anything like that yet. But if you do, it won’t be your own fault or a weakness you have, okay? I kind of like getting a chance to be the one helping you… it’s.”
They poked him in the ribs. It kind of hurt a little. “Half of why I like cooking for you so much. You’re super easy to cook for, and you always like what I make. Makes me feel like… woah, I’m good at something. You like it.”
His eyes widened a little and his head telescoped around to keep them in view. “You like it,” he said, almost to himself, a fact. “Feeling… good at things. Right. You are good at things. You try so much harder than you give yourself credit for, in all aspects of your life.”
His eyes followed their every movement.
“I mean, sure, feeling good at things is a little different than having tangible evidence. You always eat anything I cook for you like you were starving for days beforehand. It’s…”
They snicker a little. “You’re like a vacuum cleaner. Vwoom. Food gone.”
He pouted.
“Your food is good.” Like it was obvious. Like any other conclusion would be insane. “I… haven’t had home-cooked food in… a long time. And my family wasn’t…”
He cleared his throat.
“Let’s just say green jello fruit salads and unseasoned chicken aren’t exactly something I crave very often.”
“Ew. That’s nasty,” they laugh. “It’s a good thing I came along, otherwise you may have never known what real food tastes like…”
They pat him on the head, running their fingers through his hair as they do so.
And that.
Hm.
“Oh,” he breathed, neck muscles going weak as he leaned into the touch.
He gazed up at them through half-lidded eyes, a shy smile on his face. Every time they touched him first, it… had an impact on him. Made his head spin, his heart flutter. He would do anything for them. Anything in the world.
“Mmm… thank you, Angel.”
“Of course,” they hum. And, well…
After a second of bliss, they smile wryly down at him. “Now are you gonna be a man and watch Ponyo with me?”
Oh, right. There were some ‘must-see’ movies that Angel had requested they get on VHS. Explicitly because Lee hadn’t seen them yet.
“Um. Right. Yes. Yes, I can— yes. I’ll wash the dishes while you set that up, if that’s alright.”
He stood up and the chair beneath him screeched a little. He really was easy, huh?
He gathered the dishes up, placing them in the sink before hand-washing each one, placing them into the dishwasher. A little redundant, but Lee was nothing if not thorough.
He let the water scald his hands a little as he scrubbed each dish. It was meditative. Helped center him.
The rest of the evening was quiet. They watched the movie together, but Angel fell asleep halfway through, flopping over, head resting in Lee’s lap as the film continued to show on the screen.
He froze the second their head hit his lap. Had… had he earned this?
He couldn’t question their kindness. He liked the movie, though. He liked the fish in it.
They both ended up asleep on the couch. Lee didn’t want to risk waking Angel up to carry them up the stairs.