Chapter 177: Chapter 177: War over noodles
Adam arrived twenty minutes later with a grocery bag that looked wildly out of place against the manor’s polished wood and carved moldings. Victor took it himself from the butler’s hands with a nod of thanks and waved the staff away. The door shut; silence fell again.
Elias peeked over the edge of the duvet as Victor crossed the room with the bag dangling from one elegant hand. "You actually went to a supermarket?"
Victor crouched by the hearth and began unpacking. "Adam went. I told him what to buy." He held up a packet between two fingers. "This is what you wanted?"
Elias squinted at the familiar garish lettering, then grinned. "Yes. That’s the stuff."
Victor set the packets on the low table, pulled a small electric kettle closer, and poured bottled water into it with a smooth, practiced motion. "This is absurd," he said, but there was no bite to it. "You could have anything in the world cooked for you, and you want freeze-dried noodles."
"That’s because you’re feeding me like an emperor," Elias said, tugging the duvet tighter. "Sometimes I want to eat like a student who hasn’t done laundry in two weeks."
Victor’s mouth curved. "You’re not getting laundry privileges back," he murmured, but his eyes softened as the kettle clicked off. He tore open a packet, tipped the brittle noodles into a bowl, poured water, and sprinkled the powder, all with the same calm precision he used to sign contracts.
Elias watched from the bed, head tilted, lips twitching. "I can’t believe you’re making instant ramen in a manor suite."
"I’m making sure you eat," Victor corrected, stirring the noodles. "You’re the one who’s lowering the standards."
"That’s the point," Elias said. "Low standards. Comfort food. Remember?"
Victor picked up the bowl and chopsticks, cheap, splintery wood, and set them on Elias’s lap like an offering. "Here. Authentic college experience."
Elias looked down at it, steam curling up to touch his face. "Perfect," he murmured, genuinely pleased. "All that’s missing is a cracked mug of instant coffee and a deadline I’ll never meet."
Victor sat on the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled up, watching him with quiet amusement. "We can arrange a deadline," he said lightly.
Elias shot him a side-eye over the rising steam. "Don’t you dare."
Victor shifted lower, stretching out at the foot of the bed until his long frame nearly overflowed it, one elbow propped on the quilt. "I can adapt," he murmured, his smile going wide and toothy, with a shameless glint in his eyes. "It doesn’t have to be work."
Elias lifted another tangle of noodles with his chopsticks, letting the steam drift between them like a small barrier. "You’re impossible," he said, but his mouth twitched anyway. "First you abduct me to board meetings, now you’re threatening me with deadlines in bed. That’s a new low."
Victor stretched out a little more, the mattress dipping under his weight, one long arm folded behind his head. "I didn’t say the deadline had to be work," he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving in that slow, toothy smile that always meant trouble. "Could be something far more motivating."
Elias paused mid-slurp, chopsticks hovering. "You realize you’re flirting at me over instant ramen?"
"I adapt," Victor said simply. "You wanted student food. I’m giving you the full student experience. Overwork, bad hours, questionable decisions..."
"And a six-foot-whatever god sprawled across my bed," Elias muttered, shaking his head but unable to stop the reluctant laugh that slipped out. He pointed at Victor with his chopsticks. "You are not part of the ramen fantasy. You’re the corporate upgrade that ruins it."
Victor’s eyes glinted crimson in the winter light. "Ruining it," he said softly, "is my specialty." He reached over, brushed a stray noodle off Elias’s wrist with his thumb, and didn’t move his hand.
Elias rolled his eyes and took another bite, but the warmth creeping up his neck wasn’t just from the steam. "Eat your own noodles," he said around a mouthful, "and stop looking at me like that."
Victor’s smile only widened. "I didn’t make any for myself," he said, voice low and amused. "I was planning to steal yours."
Elias slid the bowl a fraction closer to his chest, spoon poised like a weapon. "Nope," he said flatly. "This is mine. I do not share, Victor."
Victor’s eyes glinted, crimson and shameless. "Then I’ll just have to negotiate," he murmured, leaning a little closer, as if the ramen were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.
Elias took an exaggeratedly slow bite, never breaking eye contact. "You’re negotiating with a starving man in bed," he said around the chopsticks. "That’s extortion, not diplomacy."
Victor bent his head until his mouth was a whisper from Elias’s ear, still watching the bowl. "Everything is diplomacy," he said softly. "What’s your price?"
Elias tipped the spoon toward him like a warning. "For one bite? Not waking me at six a.m. for a month."
Victor’s laugh was low, warm, and vibrating against the mattress. "A whole month? You drive a hard bargain." He reached out, long fingers hovering just over the edge of the bowl, not quite touching. "Half the bowl for a week off," he offered shamelessly.
"Nice try." Elias slid the bowl further out of reach with his knee. "You can have the broth when I’m done."
Victor chuckled again, unbothered, and settled back against the headboard, eyes still glinting. "I’m not going to drink that," he said, voice velvet with mock offense. "I don’t wait for leftovers."
Elias took another loud slurp and tipped his head toward him. "Then you’re out of luck, because I’m not sharing the noodles."
Victor’s hand moved before Elias even finished the sentence, a quick, fluid reach past the rim of the bowl. He didn’t take it; he just pinched a single strand of noodles between his fingers and brought it to his mouth, eyes locked on Elias’s the whole time.
Elias froze, spoon mid-air. "Victor," he warned, "put. It. Back."
Victor chewed slowly, theatrically, the corners of his mouth curving. "Too late," he said around the bite, shameless as ever. "Negotiation concluded."
"You’re impossible." Elias tried to glare, but it came out closer to a groan. He pulled the bowl tighter against his stomach, guarding it with both hands. "I can’t believe the apocalypse has no self-control."
Victor’s laugh was low and pleased. He bent down, thumb brushing the back of Elias’s hand in that same slow circle as before. "I have plenty of control," he murmured. "I just like watching you try to keep me out."
Elias huffed, but his mouth twitched. "You’re a menace."
"And you," Victor said, still smiling, "are adorable when you’re hoarding noodles."
Elias shot him a dry look over the rising steam, but the reluctant smile stayed anyway. "Touch my egg and we’re over," he muttered.
Victor laughed outright at that, crimson eyes gleaming. "Duly noted," he said, already reaching for the broth.