Work Text:
It was always easy to notice when his partner had returned from work.
Rowan stormed into their shared apartment with the energy of a malingering hurricane: aggressive, still deadly, but worn down by the implacable march of time. (Yu was distantly amused to recognize the sound of their front door being shut with force from being only opened a few inches; Fisher had been working on not slamming the thing outright. It was a work in progress.) Right now though, most of Yu’s mental resources were dedicated to speculating about the apparent bad mood.
Peeking his head around the door frame, Yu said, “Long day?”
“I’m fine,” Rowan preemptively snarled as he all but tore off his overcoat, struggling with a few of the buttons. Before he could throw it haphazardly on the floor, Yu snagged it and examined it for damage. The rough handling had pulled loose the second button from the top. (The second thing Yu had done after Rowan finally moved in with him was raid the other man’s bag of clothes and take a sewing needle to all of his maltreated items of apparel. The first thing he had done was sob.)
As Fisher stomped past him towards their shared room, Yu asked, “Would you like to talk about it?” There were only so many ways to be diplomatic with his partner, especially when the man was exhausted and angry. One way was putting food in his hands (not asking the man if he’d like food, he always said ‘no’). After a few years together, Yu had earned the privilege of asking blunt questions.
“Talk about what? Nothing happened!” the man shouted from the other room, changing into more comfortable clothes. “Nothing at all! I’m just a fucking idiot.”
Yu checked on the lentil soup, still simmering on the stove. One of Rowan’s favorites, Yu was glad he listened to his intuition and made it today. Even this far into their shared life, Rowan was still getting used to the idea of actually enjoying food and mealtimes. Instead of being a necessary waste of time, their shared meals had become a loving ritual, a time to retreat from the rest of the world and share words. The food itself came from Yu’s evolving repertoire of dishes he’d successfully sold his partner on trying. It was a delightful challenge to discover and work around Rowan’s numerous difficulties and preferences in food, and to convince him that there was a world beyond condiment-less sandwich bread and lunch meats.
He set out their bowls as Rowan returned to the dining room, perhaps a little reluctantly. Yu simply gestured for him to take a seat. Fisher scowled down at his bowl, knowing where the conversation was going to go.
It sounded like his partner was falling back on his habit of self-deprecation, something Yu tried to gently help walk him away from. So, he said, “The last I was aware, my partner was a highly intelligent man.” He voice was lightly teasing, “It’s something I quite like about him, actually.”
“Unfortunately…” Rowan stabbed at a slice of carrot with his spoon over and over again as he frowned, “You’re mistaken.” He took a bite of soup, and followed it up with a bite of sarcasm. “The person you got with-” (Rowan had difficulty describing their relationship with the terms that underscored the depth of their love and commitment, particularly when he was upset with himself) “-is an overemotional, unpleasant moron that’s not worth your time. Sorry you’re only finding it now, but I tried to warn ya.”
A person’s first instinct when hearing a loved one speak poorly of themselves is often an unhelpful one; as much as Yu would like to deny his partners self-directed insults outright, he knew it wouldn’t actually make them feel less true to Rowan. There were better ways to work through his mindset without making things worse or alienating him.
Mildly, Yu responded, “You know, love, I take pride in my observational abilities. Are you calling me an idiot, too?”
Even steaming with frustration, Rowan rarely threw insults at Yu anymore. The anger he felt had clear direction, and it wasn’t pointed at his partner. Rowan, of course, knew that Yu knew this and resented the fact that the knowledge could be used to redirect him from his self-loathing. The man sighed, and finally said, “No. Hopelessly optimistic, maybe.”
Yu beamed brightly. “I think I can live with that.”
With some of Fisher’s tension released, Yu was able to get the story of what set him off. It was nothing too out of the ordinary, thankfully. Interpersonal politics at the office had come to a boil, as they frequently did.
Rowan’s ever-so-slowly defrosting demeanor had won over several (but not all) of his coworkers, people Yu’s partner used to never speak with outside of work. Something that would have been completely unimaginable to the man even just a few years ago. (Yu was extremely proud of him.) Finally acknowledging to himself that he wasn’t happy in his life, wasn’t ever happy, had been difficult for Fisher. More difficult still had been making the realization that he wanted to change that. Realizations like that are never the end of the road, however; recovery is a lifelong practice in self-discovery and healing. And rough patches still happened, and probably always would. (That was not a failing on anyone’s part either, difficult as it was for Rowan to accept.)
After relaying his tale of workplace arguments and misunderstandings, things that on most days wouldn’t phase Rowan for a second, most of the frustrated energy left Rowan’s frame. He looked tired, though still prickly. On bad days like this one, Rowan could be quite protective of his negative self-perception. (Yu and Rowan’s therapist called it low self-esteem; Yu’s sister called it 'the opposite of a praise kink,' something that had Yu almost passing out from laughter.) At times like these, offering positive and kind statements about Rowan’s character did nothing to comfort the man, and certainly didn’t dissuade him from his negative ideas about himself.
“I know you don’t want to hear me talking about how you’re a good person right now, but I cannot stop myself from trying to comfort my partner,” Fisher flushed, “who is upset with himself. You are a person worthy of love, and you already have mine, Rowan. Do you know why?”
A little red in the face, Fisher muttered something in the negative.
“I’m going to explain it to you, using only statements that are objectively, quantifiably true.” Admirably, Yu didn’t let the grumbling from his partner distract him from his objective.
Starting with something simple: “You almost always wash and put away the dishes for me after I cook.” His frequency of doing so had increased dramatically as he’d made strides in therapy. Who could have known that it was easier to be motivated to take care of yourself and your home when you weren’t in the throes of eternal misery?
“Oh, come on.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “That’s nothing. Besides, you always rinse them so it hardly takes that long.”
Yu’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And yet, you do it for me anyways. Speaking of my kitchen habits, you usually at least try my cooking experiments, even when they are, frankly, not very good.”
“So what? I know for a fact that they’ll be well-made, even if they taste awful. And you put all that time into trying new things! And you don’t,” Fisher stumbled a little as he approached a touchy subject for himself, but he pushed through, “you don’t get pissed at me when… I can’t, y’know, eat it.” A lifetime of running into problems with certain food types and textures can leave a person defensive, and that was certainly true with Rowan Fisher. Particularly around people who would mock them for their troubles. Yu, however, was a strong believer in no fault divorce, which was perhaps related to his take on this subject of mealtime discourse: if one doesn’t want to eat what’s in front of them for whatever reason, they should not be forced to finish it.
A more serious reason, and more on the subject of Rowan having improved himself over the last few years. “Your emotional awareness has developed dramatically over the time I’ve known you.” Mostly after finding a therapist who Rowan could actually get along with.
“Bullshit.”
Yu wasn’t taking that sitting down. “Love, compared to how you were when I first met you? It’s the difference between night and day. Back then, you rarely noticed your own moods, didn’t notice when you were starting to get upset, didn’t realize when you were feeling worse than usual.” Which had made it even more difficult to take care of himself, lack of motivation aside.
Though he wanted to argue, Rowan couldn’t find anything false in his words to dispute.
Yu continued, “You used to be… just… lost at sea in your constant, low-grade misery 24/7.” Or high-grade misery. He used to only have ‘bad’ and ‘worse’ days.
Probably thinking this was a great self-own, Fisher said, “And now it’s only part-time!”
Yu smiled. Voice warm with affection, he replied, “Exactly.”
It would be far too vague, far too subjective and easy to dispute, to tell Fisher that Yu admired him for how he cared about people. Especially when he knew Rowan felt like he didn’t care and do enough.
Yu went for the jugular. “You’re diligent at work, with your cases.” More so than many would be in his place; many were content to fill out their minimal share of paperwork and forget about the people whose lives were held in the balance of that paperwork.
Fisher narrowed his eyes, knowing that Yu was intentionally targeting one of the few things about himself that he’d always taken pride in. Yu held back a smile as he continued, “Never have I known you to take the easy, or the lazy way out in your work.”
Rowan gave in with a toothy grin. “Fuck yeah, I don’t.”
There were a few more neutral, not-at-all-biased-with-love statements Yu gave after that. Some frivolous, some that had Yu wanting to tear up. Slowly, Fisher’s defensiveness and desire to argue wound down as he tried to take the words of love and admiration to heart.
Yu took his partner's thin hand in his, pulled the man close to his chest, gave him one last true, objective, quantifiable statement: “I care deeply about you, my love.”
Grasping at the fabric of Rowan’s soft shirt, Yu brushed his lips on his love’s rough, stubbled cheek. His partner’s response left no room for coyness, no room for chastity. Roughly, Rowan pulled the taller man down by his shirt collar for a burning, toothy kiss, then pulled away, meeting his lover’s gaze with a playful challenge.
Though tired, the man had some ferocity left in him after all.
Not a surprise, really. Yu knew his partner well.