Imagine a domestic life with Caleb.
Imagine you woke to the faintest notes of music bleeding through the walls.
Imagine it was not the usual crisp orderliness of Caleb's mornings. No alarm, no rustle of pressed uniform but something softer, unpolished.
Imagine that's when the smell hit you. Warm, smoky, like butter and eggs and maybe toast on the edge of burning.
Imagine blinking sleep from your eyes, rolling out of the bed with your hair sticking every which way, dragging yourself towards the source.
Imagine the music grew louder with each step, upbeat, playful, a far cry from the classical symphonies Caleb usually preferred. By the time you rounded the corner into the kitchen, you were still rubbing at your eyes, half a yawn on your lips. And then you froze.
Imagine Caleb Xia, a colonel, very disciplined, put together Caleb Xia, your lover, was in the middle of the kitchen, shirtless, spatula in one hand, hips swaying in the most ridiculous, little dance you had ever seen.
Imagine the way he turned just enough for you to catch the grin stretched across his face, boyish, lopsided, nothing like the cool, sharp expression he wore in uniform.
and Imagine, when he finally noticed you standing in the doorway. His hand slipped just a little, spatula clattering against the side of the pan. He startled, just barely, before his smile softened into something almost sheepish.
"You weren't supposed to be up yet." He said, voice rough with laughter. You couldn't help it, a giggle burst out of you, catching him mid shuffle. You pressed your hand to your mouth, but it was no use. "Caleb, baby." You wheezed between laughter. "What are you doing?"
"Breakfast." He replied smoothly, as though it explained the dancing, the music, the entire surreal scene. Then, that grin of his widened. "And maybe a little entertainment." "Little?" you teased, still laughing. "You looked like you were in a boyband audition."
Imagine the way he arched an eyebrow, spinning the spatula like a mic. "And did I pass?"
Imagine before you could retort, the speaker switched songs. You knew it instantly the opening notes of Marvin Gaye by Charlie Puth ft. Meghan Trainor spilled through the room.
Imagine the way you quickly stared at him in wide eyed disbelief. "No." You said quickly, pointing at him. "Don't even think about it." But Caleb was already setting the spatula down, that mischievous glint sparking in his eyes.
Imagine the way he has already walked toward you in slow, deliberate steps, rolling his shoulders with exaggerated rhythm, mouthing along to 'Letâs Marvin Gaye and get it on' You stepped back, hands up. "No, no, no, no! Caleb, babe don't you dare-"
but Imagine, it was alreay too late. His hands were already slipping to your waist, pulling you close as he twirled you into the middle of the kitchen.
Imagine the way you squealed. Half laughing, half protesting but his grin was infectious. He didn't care that his moves were a little clumsy or that you were still tired eyed from sleep. He just wanted you there with him, pressed against his bare chest, dancing in the mess of a too small kitchen with music blaring.
Imagine maybe it was the way he looked at you. All fondness and mischief rolled into one. And so your protests softened, your laughter melted and before long, you were dancing with him. Sloppy, silly, no technique to speak of, just swaying and spinning and bumping into the counter.
Imagine he dipped you dramatically once, nearly losing balance, both of you breathless with laughter.
Imagine at one point, your stomach growled and you caught a faint whiff of something a little too charred. You gasped, pulling away. "Caleb- The food!"
Imagine the way he blinked, then turned quickly to the stove. The eggs had gone a shade darker than ideal and the toast⌠Well, the toast might have been a lost cause. He let out a laugh that was more of a groan, running a hand down his face.
"All right." He admitted. "So maybe I got distracted." You leaned against the counter, still grinning. "Distracted by what, exactly?" He looked back at you, purple eyes flicking over your flushed cheeks, your tousled hair, the way you still swayed faintly in time with the fading music. His voice dropped, softer, warmer. "By you."
Imagine that answer, simple as it was, stole whatever teasing remark you're about to make. You felt your chest tighten in that way it always did with him. The quiet reminder that beneath all the order, the discipline, Caleb Xia was a man who loved you with a depth he could never fully hide.
Imagine the way you sigh, stepping toward him again, sliding your arms around his waist. "Well..." You murmured, cheek pressed to his bare chest. "I guess burnt breakfast is forgivable⌠This time."
Imagine he chuckled lowly, brushing a kiss across your temple. "Then next time." He whispered. "I'll just have to do better. Though I think the dancing part stays." "Deal." You said, already smiling into him.
Imagine maybe the food was a little ruined. Maybe the kitchen smelled faintly of smoke. But as he kissed you again, slow and tender with the music still playing faintly in the background, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Because breakfast could burn and love like this was worth it.
[âdark-night-hero] 2025°
: heavily inspired by this tiktok post.
