Blame it on the magic

Aug 31, 2014 14:10

Title: Blame it on the magic
Pairing: Zitao/Sehun
Rating: G
Length: 1,300 words
Genre: historical!au, genderswap!sehun, a bit fluff
Summary: Sehun is not sure why she puts up with him in the first place.

[a/n] This is for Giselle's birthday and it's belatedly two months later. I'm very sorry for the very late lateness of this. I love you, bbG.


“No, those go straight to the bin,” Zitao says, about to stand up from the dingy, unfurnished chair.

“Stay there, don’t move,” tuts Sehuna, glancing behind her with a sharp look. Zitao purses his lips together and tries to rearrange his robes comfortably under him.

“But why are you putting those back there?” Zitao looks disgusted at the plates of food in Sehuna’s hands.

“For the other servants to eat later,” Sehuna simply says. She continues to cover the untouched roasts with cloth placed on the left of her. Her nimble fingers work fast to do this work, and she piles the now empty plates into the sink.

“That’s disgusting,” Zitao’s nose scrunches.

“Not going to put perfectly good food to waste,” Sehuna shrugs. Her fingers are welcomed by cool water as she begins to scrub the plates. She notes to herself to remember to boil the water for the next load of dishes during lunch time in case she forgets again.

Zitao quiets in his seat, and the only sound that could be heard were the clinking plates as Sehuna placed them on the rack to dry. Finished, Sehuna dries her hands in the wash cloth tied around her waist and turns around to face the crown prince.

He was looking at the food covered by the white cloth with a twisted look on his face.

“I still think it’s inedible,” Zitao says, frowns.

“Luck for you, you’re not the one eating it,” Sehun says. “Anyway, since when does it matter to you what us lowly servants eat?”

“I never said lowly but servant are below the royals-”

“Why are you here again?” Sehuna crosses her arms.

A few weeks ago, the crown prince in his tall build draped with rich cloths, had leaned his body against the kitchen wall and greeted Sehuna. Sehuna remembered how tightly she clenched the cloth of her dress in tight grasps, thinking that he had come down to reprimand her for something she had done. In the previous week she had left the chicken over the fire for too long while playing with Jongdae, the cat which wandered around in the kitchens, and also that Thursday, she knocked over the large candlestick in the dining room, but she was definitely sure no one was there.

“Your highness?” Sehuna asked.

“I just want to see what servants do,” the prince had said. He waved his hand in a ‘shoo’ motion, as if she was some bird, to go back to work.

That was when she realised how annoying the prince really was.

Following that day, he daily came and leaned against the kitchen wall. She felt like she could feel his eyes boring down the dirty blond of her hair, and it made her shift uncomfortably in the beginning but after the fifth visit, she really didn’t care if he even saw Jongdae farting in her hair.

His visits would have been bearable, if not for the fact that he never failed to hold side comments about everything.

“Don’t you have any change of clothes? That cloth looks like it was trampled by the cows.”

“Have you ever even changed your own clothes?”

“I should report to my father how bad the stench is in this tiny room.”

“Or maybe you should just leave, right now.”

“Why is that cat prowling all over table? He might be shedding fur in the food! Are you trying to poison the crown prince?”

“If that’s the only way to stop hearing your nasally voice, yes.”

After each retort Sehuna said, she always expected all her belongings to be collected and thrown out. But the prince just paid it no mind, and continued his pointless banter so Sehuna played along too.

The silence was overbearing at times and the insults were becoming limited in number. It was when the sun was going down and the other kitchen servants weren’t in the room, where they started to share tidbits about each other. The prince had begun to talk about the new expectations he had from his parents and Sehuna had started to talk about life outside the castle. Along the way, the prince had began sitting down on the wobbly stool by the table and Sehuna had started calling him by his first name.

His uncomfortable presence had transitioned into something much more comfortable than (surprisingly) talking with the head of staff. There were times that Sehuna felt weird at the pit of her stomach when Zitao came too close to her though. When he comes to look over her shoulder to peer and throw comments at the apple pie, she can feel the small hairs of his cheek lightly brushing against her face.

It was very weird and Sehuna couldn’t figure out why.

“Why can’t I?” Zitao says, averting his eyes from her gaze.

“Well yes you can,” Sehuna rolls her eyes. “Just why do you insist on coming down to this small room when you have your large bedroom decorated with all the things you want.”

“What if they’re not the things I want right now?” Zitao looks up at her.

“What do you want?”

“Someone who can hold a conversation with me without talking about my duties or my riches, I guess. I already know all that stuff,” Zitao says, shaking his head. “Someone like you.”

“But all I do is say mean things to your face and talk about myself?” Sehuna says, confused. She uncrosses her arms, and takes Jongdae in her arms to stroke him.

“Which is exactly what I want! I already know that all the things you say about me is false (“They’re very much the truth”) but at least you speak out and say something else,” Zitao says. “I’ve also never been able to exit the castle without at least three guards following me everywhere and you talk to me about your travels.”

She’s unsure about how to go with what Zitao just said so she simply replies, “Someone needs to knock off some stupid things you form in your head.”

Sehuna turns away from Zitao and makes her way to the onions. She sits down on the stool, and begins to peel the onions away with her hands. She looks up, ready for Zitao to shoot her with a haughty reply except this time he doesn’t.

This time he doesn’t talk at all. He comes and sits down on the stool opposite her and grabs a brown onion of his own. Silently, he peels off the first layer and a bright smile spreads on his face. He then continues to excitedly grab onto the other onions and peel off the layers with a straightened spine and poised fingers, as if he was a professional.

“Cooking isn’t so hard after all,” Zitao says.

Sehuna has a small smile on her face seeing his expression, but her mood brightens up even more when she realises he hasn’t experienced chopping onions.

x

“Zitao, you can take off the cloth now,” Sehuna says, soothingly patting his hair.

“No, not until I leave this room,” Zitao says, in tears. “You might put another spell on me.”

He stands up from the stool and walks with one hand holding the red cloth to his face and the other arm waving in front of him.

“The onions made you cry,” Sehuna repeats, watching amusedly as he wandered around.

“No, I did not cry. It was magic, how would it explain why you weren’t crying,” Zitao says.

It was too late for Sehuna to warn Zitao before he walked straight into a hanger.

“For all the times you came into this kitchen, you would think you would know where everything is already,” Sehuna says, holding a cold glass of water to his forehead.

“I was only focusing on you the whole time,” Zitao snaps, whimpering at the pain.

Wait.

“No, wait-” Zitao wiggles up from his half laying down position. “Forget it.”

“Yes, yes. It’s forgotten already,” Sehuna says with a stable voice, paired with darkened pink cheeks. Sehuna pushes Zitao down. “Just lie back down and give my ears a break from your whining.”

The two say no more for the rest of the afternoon. (And when Sehun mentions he grabbed her hand the next day, he says it’s all her magic’s fault.)

g: exo, p: zitao/sehun

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