Chapter Text
Freng let himself sink against the wall. He did not care to look for a chair, being well aware that he would need to make more of those sooner or later. He groaned with exhaustion. Even though it was a fucking cold day, he was sweating, after having spent most of the day preparing the last bit of the house.
Sure, his stupid brother had helped, so had his uncles, but he still was feeling so freaking exhausted.
“Don’t you groan like that,” Buna said, rolling her eyes.
She, obviously, had not done much, given that she was now seven months pregnant and could not stand up for too long. She seemed to be amused about him, though, as she was sitting on that kitchen table.
“I groan however much I want,” he pouted.
“Oh, come on now,” she said. “You still have to cook.”
He threw her a side-eye, already inhaling for that answer, though he did not even get out that first word, before being shut down.
“Don’t you even dare to say it is a woman’s job. Right now my job is to carry this kid to term.” She patted her belly. “I wanna hear your groaning, if you were to carry a whole-ass human around with you the entire time.”
He sighed, finding himself pouting again. But in the end, he gave in. Even though his muscles were screaming for some nice time out, maybe a hot bath or something, he moved over to the stove. After all they had a pretty stove, made by his uncle.
Of course his stupid brother was gone now. So was everyone else. But thus was his fate.
Truth was, of course, that he had never taken that much to cooking. He knew how to get himself fed, but…
A knock on the door drew his attention.
“Yeah?” Buna asked, turning her head.
When the door was open, he found his stupid brother there. And his sister-in-law. And his little niece, the red nose dripping.
They were carrying stuff. Bread, cheese and a dish that was clearly filled with some sort of casserole.
Marie was pregnant as well, but only four months along right now. Hence she had an easier time moving around, compared to Buna.
“For us?” Buna asked, looking at the food.
Marie smiled. She went over to the table, putting the dish down there, before ordering husband and daughter to do the same with bread and cheese. “It is traditional to cook for those moving into their first home, right?” she said.
Even Freng could not help a sigh and a smile. “I could kiss you right now.” He went over to his stupid brother, wrapping his arms around him, only for Marie to pat his shoulder.
“Did you almost have to cook for yourself, Frengi?” she teased.
Now it was Buna, who groaned. Buna, who he was still not married to. Buna, who was carrying her first child, but Freng’s third. Buna, who had somehow managed to talk him into this, into moving into a house of their own, instead of enjoying all the comforts the castle would afford them. (Uncle Adrian’s cooking being one of them.) “This useless man needs to learn how to feed his family sooner or later.”
“I am rather certain that ‘feeding your family’ is something metaphoric about the man bringing in the money and stuff,” Freng muttered.
“Oh, yes, please, my dear, tell me about all the money you are making.”
Marie chuckled at this. “She got you there.”
Obviously, nobody was using money much within the little town of theirs. People just shared, what they had, given, too, that nobody had ever asked for anything like lease for the fields or anything. This was just their land. And it was not as if his mother, aunt and uncles were actually acting like lords and ladies or anything like that.
Still, he did work. Like everybody did. Helping on the fields and with the animals and stuff. So, it was not as if he was useless.
“Don’t look like this, brother,” Ilias said with a grin. He put one hand onto his shoulder. “You will learn to deal with it sooner or later.”
“Deal with what?” Marie asked.
Ilias grinned. “Women. What else.”
Admittedly, those next words of Freng’s were not wisely chosen, as he muttered: “Oh, I know how to deal with women.” Because it earned him quite a hard slap against the back.
“You are a stupid-head,” Buna growled, making the other two laugh.
Only little Marita was just standing there, looking at the adults without much understanding. “I thought we came here to eat.”
“And right you are, little one,” Ilias said, picking his daughter up, who was as dark-skinned as him and his brother.
Now Buna sighed. “Freng. Get us some plates, will you?”
With a grin he turned around to her. “Of course, my love,” he said, rubbing his back. He turned to the cupboard, trying to find those large plates they had made. He was fucking hungry after all. And he could do with some beer, but they had nothing of that stuff left any longer. So he would do without.
“Freng?” Marie now asked, and her voice already told him, that she had found another thing to complain.
“Yeah?”
She looked around. “Is there… more than one chair?”
Freng blinked, then shrugged. “No.”