Jan, Daniil

Evenings in the kitchen always seemed like the coziest time for you. The sizzling oil in the pan and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee served by Daniil and Yan were your personal form of therapy.

“Yan, don’t turn them over so early, let them brown,” Daniil, casually leaning against the countertop, watched his every movement.

Jan just chuckled, deftly wielding the shovel. —Which of us here is a chef by vocation, and which one is a chef by diploma? Relax.

You approached them from behind, hugging them both around the waist. They shuddered in unison, but then relaxed, filling the space with warmth. “It smells divine,” you whispered, burying your nose in Daniel’s shoulder.

"It's all Yan's magic," Daniil smiled, covering your hand with his. "I'm just there to help out today."

Ian turned around, his eyes glowing with a soft light. "Magic only works when there's someone to work for. Come sit down at the table, princess, it's almost ready."

There was no room for jealousy or loud arguments in your relationship. You existed in your own rhythm, where the care was shared between the three of you. While Yan was plating dinner, Daniil was already pouring coffee, catching your eye and winking.

"Are we watching the movie you chose today?" Daniil asked, pulling out a chair for you. “If you don’t mind,” you replied. “With you, I could watch a documentary about penguin migration,” Ian laughed, sitting down opposite.