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"Zhongli..."
The man above you hums attentively. "Yes, dearest?"
"'M hungry."
His lips quirk upwards slightly. Long fingers—free from the confines of his signature leather gloves—tap over your thigh absentmindedly in a steady rhythm. "We just had dinner not even an hour ago."
"Still," your voice objects, lilting with a small whine. "I wanna munch on something again. There's still some room down here," you motion to your stomach and pat the area twice to clarify.
"Would you like me to reheat the leftovers?" He offers, gaze still fixed on his book.
You pout at him from where you're sprawled across his lap. "No, I want something new."
“It isn’t good to stuff yourself full to the brim before bed, my dear.”
"But as my husband, you're contractually obliged to feed me!"
Now that gets his attention. Bingo.
Zhongli slowly lowers his chosen novel and gently sets it down to lay on your stomach. Without taking your eyes off of him, you grab the book and hold it close to your chest like it was a pillow.
"Whatever and whenever I want! It's in one of the clauses," you add matter-of-factly with an upwards tilt of your chin, as if he wasn't the God of Contracts and knew every single one to currently exist—and to have previously existed—like the back of his palm.
You both know there's absolutely nothing about your so-called rule, but he entertains you regardless. A certain quality begins to blossom over his features. Something close to amusement.
"Right, of course. How could I forget…" Zhongli mumbles, eyes closing for a brief moment. Hefty arms begin to rise and cross over the other as your husband starts nodding along, thumb and index finger now holding his chin in faux contemplation. "Then what would my starving, ravenous darling like to have for post-dinner?"
As he expected, a cheshire grin spreads across your lips as you peer up at him. Zhongli fights the urge to mirror your expression, but his eyes crinkle in fond mirth anyway.
"Bamboo Shoot Soup." You reply. A pause… "And Matsutake Meat Rolls."
He fixes you with a glance. One you often receive whenever he thinks you have a terrible idea. The golden flecks littered in his amber irises glow with it.
When all you do is puff out your chest—triumphantly, might he add—Zhongli shakes his head, feigning exasperation, before slowly raising you so that he can start making his way to the kitchen.
He can hear you tittering behind him. So very pleased with yourself, no doubt.
But a gasp tears through the air suddenly. Your upper body snaps up off of the couch as you call out after him just before he reaches the stove, hands clutching the back of the sofa for purchase.
"Oh, and Almond Tofu!"
He pauses mid stride, head still facing the direction of your kitchen but clearly considering you, before turning his head to look at you incredulously. "That's a three-course meal," he responds in a careful drawl, each word purposely enunciated and sentence tapering off in mild confusion. "Will you be able to finish that?"
"Yes, because you'll help me eat everything!" You counter easily without so much as missing a beat. The smile on your face is all pearly whites now, your eyes like precious jades the way they catch the living room ambience and gleam at him.
Zhongli stares at you like he's trying to figure out whether you're joking or not (you’re dead serious), but once it's clear you meant every single word, he can't help but chuckle at your quip.
You aren’t wrong. He did exactly that just thirty-six minutes ago—the taste of your previous two remaining Jade Parcels still fresh on his tongue.
"As you wish."