The breaking point came when Daniel Hargrove- Lucien's work rival and an insufferable bastard-brought in another lovingly prepared lunch from his omega.
"Elise made katsu sandwiches today. Some japanese thing," Daniel announced, unwrapping them with a flourish. "She even cut them into little hearts."
Lucien's eye twitched.
That was it.
He was declaring war. He was going to have to put down one pride for another.
---
That evening, Lucien stormed into the kitchen, where Andrew was elbow-deep in dough, humming softly.
Lucien cleared his throat.
Andrew was startled, flour dusting his nose. "Oh! Lucien. Did you need something?"
'YES. YOUR UNDYING DEVOTION IN THE FORM OF A LUNCHBOX,' he thought.
Lucien crossed his arms. "We need to talk."
Andrew wiped his hands, looking mildly alarmed. "About?"
"Lunch."
Andrew tilted his head. "...Your takeout order?"
GOD DAMN IT.
Lucien exhaled sharply. "No. Your lunch."
"My... lunch? What I...eat for lunch?"
Lucien wanted to scream. But No. This time, Lucien wasn't backing down. He took a deep breath, correcting the other. "The lunches you don't pack me."
Andrew blinked. "But... you said you didn't want packed lunches."
"I know what I said!"
"Then... do you... want them now?"
Lucien's jaw clenched. "...Maybe."
Andrew frowned. "Maybe?"
"Fine. Yes. I want them."
"Oh." Andrew paused. "But... you were very clear before. You said you'd rather eat at the office."
Lucien wanted to throttle him. "I changed my mind."
Andrew's brows furrowed. He asked, just to be sure. "So... you're revoking your previous statement?"
"YES."
Andrew nodded slowly. "Okay. I just wanted to be sure."
Lucien exhaled, his pride in shambles but his victory finally secured. But then-
Andrew added, "Should I check in with you every morning to confirm, or...?"
Lucien's soul left his body.
---
It was morning. A victorious morning.
Lucien Whitemore arrived at the office with the air of a man who had just won a silent, grueling war.
His briefcase felt heavier than usual-not because of paperwork, but because nestled inside was his first-ever Andrew-packed lunch.
He had waited months for this.
He was going to savor every damn second.
It was soon, Lucien's much awaited for the first time in his life, lunch break. He deliberately chose the most visible spot in the executive dining area-right across from Daniel Hargrove, who was already unwrapping another obnoxiously perfect bento from his omega.
Daniel smirked. "Elise outdid herself today. Beef Wellington bites."
Lucien didn't even blink. Daniel's taunts didn't bother him anymore, nu uh. He simply-slowly, dramatically-pulled out his own lunchbox.
The room went quiet.
Daniel's eyebrows shot up.
Lucien smirked. 'That's right. Mine now. I'm the main character. Behold, peasants.'
Then he opened it.
Inside was a meal so perfect, it could only be described as a reinnassance painting-
1. A perfectly golden chicken pot pie
2. Buttered peas and carrots (arranged neatly, because Andrew was nothing if not meticulous).
3. A small slice of treacle tart (because Lucien had once mentioned offhandedly that he liked it).
And-
4. A handkerchief.
Not just any handkerchief.
His handkerchief.
With his initials- L.W.-stitched into the corner.
The embroidery was... uneven. The L was slightly crooked, the W a little too close to the edge. The fabric was pristine, but the threadwork was clearly done by an amateur.
An amateur with pricked fingers.
Lucien's chest did something dangerous.
Andrew's hands had been red this morning. He'd been fidgeting with his sleeves, hiding them.
Lucien had assumed it was from cooking.
But no.
He'd been sewing.
For him.
Lucien stared at the handkerchief like it was a live grenade.
This was not part of the plan.
He was supposed to flex. To smirk at Daniel, to enjoy the victory of finally having what he wanted.
Not-
Not this.
Not the sudden, overwhelming urge to call Andrew right fucking now and-
And what?
Thank him?
Apologize for being an insufferable prick for months?
Tell him he was the only omega Lucien had ever wanted this badly?
No.
No, no, no.
He was an alpha. He didn't do emotional outbursts.
But his throat felt tight anyway.