#stir fry also Bad Food like that is just Ingredience on a Plate . what do u expect me to do . eat them one at a time?

[jtbb]

does anyone else get Really Stressed Out when their food is like a Bunch of Different Stuff all on one plate like i need my food to be just the same ingredients within every bite or else i will explode

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

lin-kuei trio x chef! reader

pre-events of the mk1 cinematic; mostly with tomas that can be seen as platonic or romantic

ooc-ish? this is just my interpretation on how it would’ve been like before things got bad for the lin kuei

1.5k

You slide the plate of food onto the wooden lazy susan, quickly warning your guests not to touch the plate. Almost immediately, Kuai Liang decides to place his fingers on the plate’s underside.

You step back, unimpressed.

“With all due respect, Kuai Liang. Seriously?”

“You call this hot?”

Kuai Liang’s good-natured smile is useless against you, because yes, you call this hot; you had to carry it the entire way from the kitchen yourself because the Lin Kuei eat with in absolute privacy, and you also did not have FIRE POWERS. So yes, it was hot. You pointedly place one of two bowls of rice you brought before Tomas, who gleefully rubs his chopsticks together.

“Cease your antics, brother.” Kuai Liang chuckles at Bi Han’s almost embarrassed seething.

“Thank you, Bi Han. You get rice.”

The second bowl is (gingerly) placed before him. You would slam it down too for effect, but you would rather not be frozen alive for having bad manners with the new Grandmaster Of The Lin Kuei.

You internally roll your eyes at the title. Whatever, Bi Han was Bi Han at the end of the day. The brothers had come to the teahouse enough times for you to know that if you gave him food, he would be grateful and shut up to eat it- unless he was on another-

Bi Han pushes the bowl to Kuai Liang with a small motion before picking up his chopsticks.

“You’re on another diet.” You exclaim.

Kuai Liang accepts the bowl with a sigh, likely sharing the same sentiment. Tomas takes a morsel of the stir fry and hurriedly shoves it in his mouth to share his piece, but the food is too hot, and he makes a show of cooling his mouth. Bi Han’ sigh mirrors Kuai Liang’s prior one.

These brothers. It was like a chain reaction, where each one of them were disappointed in each other’s behaviour.

“The Grandmaster needs to be in tip-top shape to fit his grandmaster uniform.” Tomas chides. “So that his arms look good in- ACK!”

His statement is cut off by a small mound of rice being shoved into his mouth, courtesy of Kuai Liang. Whatever he meant to say was replaced by yelps of “Hot!” and whining. He eventually turns to you with an expectant look, like he was hoping you would come to his defence.

You shrug. What were you supposed to do? Scold a ninja-extraordinaire for lovingly feeding his brother? No, seriously. Your relationship with these people was extremely conditional, and there was no doubt they would put you in your place if you ever tried to boss them around.

Except Tomas. There was some leeway bossing Tomas around.

“Is there anything you want to eat today- not you Tomas.” You physically push away the cheeky man’s face to maintain your eye contact with Bi Han. “Since you three cleared out the place, my treat.”

Bi Han looked at his empty plate for a moment, as if he suddenly had forgotten every meal he’s ever enjoyed. You kissed your teeth, immediately understanding. You yourself were the oldest child, so you knew how it felt to suddenly be asked what you specifically wanted. Either that, or if he was considering cheating on his diet just to eat your fried pork.

“The sweet pork. That you made last time.”

Yeah, okay. It just was never as emotionally complicated as you expected it to be with him. Well, it was terribly flattering that he’d take up the precious calories to eat what you cooked- though it did make you question Bi Han’s resolve; you had never seen him in battle, so you couldn’t gauge his self-control other than him crumbling at the promise of your cooking.

Either way, you gave him a thumbs up and an appreciative grimace.

“Right away, boss.”

You scuttle back into the teahouse kitchen, where you thankfully had all the ingredients available. Thank God, there was no emergency calling Kung Lao for the delivery of flour or vinegar. What would that phone call sound like, even?

Hey bestie! Hope you’re not too busy harvesting cabbages because I need you to bring me a cup of sugar to make a meal for the grandmaster of an organised family! Yeah Grandmaster! Yeah, ‘family’! Hope to hear back from you soon!

Just as you’d gotten the oil up and frying, the jammed kitchen door tries to open with a groan. You settle the breaded pork into the ladle, throwing it into the bubbling oil with a satisfying sizzle. The door tries to open again, and it gets a little further before inevitably getting stuck once more.

You roll your eyes. With a single outstretched kick, you manage to send the damp wooden door to swing open like it was brand new, leaving Tomas standing there like a kid caught with his hand in the jam pots.

“Maybe we should recruit you into the Lin Kuei.” The silver-haired man allows himself into your kitchen, carefully side-stepping a hemp sack of flour then once again to avoid a crate of bok choy that toppled earlier in the day.

The kitchen was messy, but when there’s only one person to handle a mountain of orders you learn to improvise. It was a strategic layout that only you needed to understand.

“Nice of you to let yourself into my kitchen.”

“Thought I’d keep you company.” A lie. He just wanted to spend some time away from Kuai Liang and Bi Han, an understandable sentiment. The three of them probably spent too much time together leading the Lin Kuei, and Bi Han was insufferably stuffy to share meals with.

You whisked vinegar and sugar in a bowl, but arms worked in autopilot as you stared at Tomas making himself comfortable on the stool near you cooking station. It was comical, watching the tall man fold himself like origami paper to fit perfectly on such a small surface, tucking his knees to his chest and peering up at you like a child.

This stool wasn’t just any old chair, though. After a couple years, people like Tomas and Kung Lao had turned it into the taste tester’s throne since it was convenient for You to just raise your arm and feed them little bits.

As much as you wanted to be a stronger woman, his grey eyes and boyish smile did make your heart clench. He looked so much like San Bing, the stray dog that you fed in the village- they even begged for scraps the same way.

“You do the same thing as Kung Lao.” Tomas huffed at the comparison, resting his chin on the nearby counter’s greasy surface and blinking with his light glittery eyes.

“But cuter, right?”

You balked, almost letting missing your ladle’s handle and gripping scalding metal in shock. How ridiculous did this man get? At his grown age, acting cute just to gain you favour, all in the name for some bits and pieces? Seriously, if these were the values that the Lin Kuei taught, the world was in grave danger.

A tender piece of pork is pulled out the oil and dipped in the sauce, and then shoved in front of Tomas’ face in the effort to stop him from continuing whatever it was he was doing.

“Do that again, and I will ban you from coming in every again.” You gravely state, and it’s funny how quickly Tomas straightens his posture and nods. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

Tomas is also remarkably like San Bing with how he snatches the food into his mouth, chewing loudly in attempt to cool the food down as he eats it. You continue to fix up the rest of the portion while Tomas watches you, sitting obediently on the stool.

Once it’s on a medium-sized dish, Tomas beats you to picking it up.

“This isn’t just for you, greedy.”

“But the plates are hot, right? I’ll bring it over, don’t worry.”

Tomas smiles, nose wrinkling in a way that makes you want to pinch him. You thank him with a pat on the shoulder and helps him open the kitchen door and watch him walk over to his table. You then pretend not to see him slam the dish onto the table and frantically rub his probably burning fingers on Bi Han’s cold arms.

You bite back the growing grin on your face.

As much as you would’ve liked to hang around the three as they ate their meal, you still had an entire kitchen to clean (to the best of your ability) before the teahouse opened again for the dinner rush. You settle for occasionally peeking at the solely occupied table through the kitchen pick-up area, wholeheartedly laughing when Kuai Liang gives you a thumbs up after taking a bite of the pork. Bi Han gives you a nod, which you assume is as close to kissing him on the mouth as it gets. 

Just as you focus fully on preparing your produce, you miss Tomas waving his chopsticks in the air, but hear him enthusiastically call out your name. This time, you let yourself smile fully as you chop away at some carrots.

[weaselle]

cooking for people who have no idea what they are doing (or are just, like, real depressed)

Okay, I’m a professional cook, but also, I get depressed. This is the cooking I do when I’m depressed, because I need the simplest path to a whole meal.

This is not for vegetarians, because, while I wholeheartedly support people choosing vegetarianism, and also enjoy cooking for vegetarians, for me, the simplest path to a meal includes meat. Perhaps when I am less depressed I will work on options.

A lot of recipes focus on achieving food that is in some way special, using special techniques, or using a precise list of carefully measured high-end ingredients... and that’s not this, this is all the parts of cooking that are not those things.

First, shopping

Meats Starches Veggies Sauces Breakfast/Snack

For a whole week you’re going to want

3 kinds of meat, with five portions each. So, for example, five chicken breasts, 10 sausage links, and 2-3 pounds of ground beef. Other possibilities include pork chops, salmon, some kind of steak, whatever. 

You’re going to want up to 3 starches. Honestly I usually stick to just rice, but you can go with rice, potatoes, and pasta. If you want to use quinoa or polenta or something, thats on you.

And, you’re going to want about 3 types of vegetables, again, about 5 portions each -- and try to stay green. So personally, I usually get 5 medium zucchini, 2 medium heads of broccoli, and then either yellow squash or mushrooms. A bag of salad greens is also a good option, and I have an easy way to make a good salad, which I will do as a separate post.

Next pick something easy that works as either breakfast or a snack. For me this is a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a bunch of bananas. Sometimes it’s nice to have an additional option here, like cereal or yogurt. 

Last, you’ll want 2-5 sauces in bottles. I would definitely recommend a low sodium soy sauce be one of them, and maybe a BBQ sauce for the other. I usually also include worcestershire and sriracha but go with whatever you want, teriyaki sauce, A1, whatever you know you’ll eat. Hell, you can use Italian style salad dressing as a cookable sauce if you really want.

Oh, and If you don’t already have some at the house, you’ll need pan lube: butter and/or some kind of cooking oil. 

Okay! we’re done shopping! Affordability isn’t the main focus here, but is undeniably important -- I live in a very expensive area, this shopping trip is going to feed me well for a week and costs me about $100 bucks. When I was living in Alabama, it probably would have cost me more like $70. You won’t need to get stuff like the sauce and rice and peanut butter every week, so you’re definitely looking at a monthly grocery bill of something like $300 depending on where you live, and that’s not too bad. 

Prep

hell no, I’m depressed, the only prep I’m doing is putting two packages of meat in the freezer and the rest of this stuff in the fridge. You CAN box or bag each portion of meat separately so you can really alternate what you eat -- me, I’m gonna eat chicken for two or three days, then beef for two or three days, etc.

and listen, don’t fuck around with microwave settings or running water on things to defrost them. If you package the meat all up separately, just move a portion from the freezer to the fridge each time you cook dinner. Or, if you do like me, move the whole package when you go to cook your last portion of the previous stuff, and just deal with the fact that it will probably still be a tiny bit frozen when you go to cook next.

Tip: When you cook dinner, you’re going to make enough for lunch. That just leaves you one small meal - I often smear peanut butter on a peice of bread and wrap it around a banana like a taco - fast, easy, practically no dishes, relatively healthy

____________________________________________________________

Cooking (this is going to take about 25 minutes)

You’re going to need

ONE frying pan, medium size w/ lid ONE boil pot, medium size w/ lid knife, a spatula and a cutting board.

If you want to be fancy, you can include a big spoon. Looks like this

No matter what the specific ingredients you’ve chosen, the basic format is going to be:

Start your starch heat pan, put meat in the pan flip meat and add veggies, cover with lid remove meat and add sauce finish starch put everything on a plate while it is still too hot to eat and you are standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the like, 4 dishes you’ve gotten dirty. eat.

Okay, before you even get everything else out, start your starch. For rice this means rinse the rice and put it in the cold water and set it on high heat, for pasta this means put your salted water on the stove on high heat. For potatoes, you can use my perfect mashed potatoes recipe (I’ll do that as a separate post) or, honestly, you can wait until you’re halfway done with the rest of everything and microwave the sucker for like 8 minutes. I would never do that in a restaurant, but trying to feed my lethargic depressed ass? Absolutely.

easy rice: Fill your smallest coffee cup with rice, put it in the pot. Rinse. Fill the same cup twice with water, add to rice. Bring to a boil, give a good stir, turn heat all the way down, put a lid on it for something like 15 more minutes.

Okay, now lube your pan. Butter, olive oil, whatever. You’re probably looking at an amount more than a teaspoon and less than a table spoon of whichever you use. Personally I try to use as little olive oil as possible, so I pour a large coin sized amount (a quarter in the U.S.) into the pan, ear off a piece of the paper towel I’m going to use as my napkin for the evening, fold it up tight, and sort of paint the oil around so a little goes a longer way.

Pan lubed? Great, turn your burner on. highest heat will work but is not ideal, medium heat will work better but is still not ideal. Halfway between the two is perfect for chicken, a little hotter for beef, a little lower for fish.

Now remove two portions of your chosen protein (that way you’ll have tomorrow’s lunch too). By the time you get the packaging open and stuff, your pan is probably hot. If it’s not, let it get hot. You don’t want the oil to start smoking (warning, butter will burn faster than oil) but if you shake a single drop of water off your finger into the pan, you want it to sizzle.

If your pan is hot, put your meat in. The more you do this, the more you’ll perfect the timing, but you’re going to cook it for ~about~ 7 minutes before you flip it, maybe a couple minutes longer if it’s chicken or pork, maybe a couple minutes less if it’s beef.

Now that your meat is in, prepare your veggie. Rinse it off, cut off any part of it you don’t want to eat, and then cut what’s left into pieces the size of a large bite. Don’t worry, it’s going to get a little smaller when you cook it. Take your time, you’ll probably finish in less time than the meat needs.

Time to flip your meat? Great. Do that, and then dump your chopped up veggie in the pan. It does not matter at all if the pieces are not touching the bottom of the pan -probably most of them will not be, a bunch will be on top of the meat, that’s fine.

Put a lid on it. Now add your pasta to the water, or put your potato in the microwave, or check your rice. If following my perfect mashed potato recipe, mash now.

Rice tip, checking: eat a grain, you want zero crunch. If it’s not done and there’s no liquid, add a splash of water and stir. It it’s done or close to done, but it is still very wet, give it a big stir and leave on the stove with the lid off for a couple minutes.

Your meat still has like, at least 4 minutes, so rinse off your cutting board and chef knife, get out a plate, table knife and fork.

 Meat done? Great. Take the meat out of the pan, leaving the veggies in. Add sauce to the pan. I like to also use a little wine, because it’s usually already in the house, if you have some and want to, pour a large swallow of wine in the pan with the sauce. I’ll often mix a couple sauces, like worcestershire and soy (makes something similar to teriyaki) or hot sauce and BBQ

Stir the sauce around with the veggies. This, called deglazing, is an important step for two reasons, 1: it will get up a lot of the flavorful stuff that has stuck to the pan and make your sauce better, and 2: it will make washing the pan much easier. Okay, put the lid back on for one to two minutes, maybe stir a couple times. Basically you want the sauce to stain the veggies.

Your starch should be done, turn off the burner, put a portion on your plate, and stick the rest in a ziplock or tupperware or something. Go ahead and throw the second portion of meat right in there with it. 

Turn off the stove and scoop the veggies onto the plate, and pour the sauce from the pan over everything.

Now, while it’s too hot to eat, and you’re standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the pot, pan, and spatula. It should be very easy because of the way you used the sauce and because nothing has had a chance to harden. This usually takes me about 2 full minutes.

__________________________________________________________

OKAY! it’s been 20-25 minutes, you’ve got dinner and tomorrow’s lunch (just add another cut up veggie, pour a different sauce on, and put it in the microwave for two or three minutes) AND there’s no danger of dishes piling up on you :) You can even add “washing last night’s plate and fork for use tonight” to where you rinse the cutting board to really keep it full circle.

It’s not gormet. It IS accessibly healthy, affordable, and easy.

If you are extra depressed, forget the starch and use more veggies; this cuts what little work there is by up to half

Using this format, you can have three good meals per day and only spend 30 total minutes a day in the kitchen — including clean up! (dishes piling up tends to exacerbate my depression and makes cooking your next meal harder)

And it’s easy to give yourself a wide variety, from soy glazed chicken, zucchini and rice one night; to steak, mushrooms and pasta the next; followed by BBQ pork chops, brocoli and potatoes... I suck at math but there’s probably a hundred options

Just to recap, because I know I was very detailed and this might seem overwhelming, once you read through the above to answer any questions you might have, simply

-Start your starch -lube & heat pan, put meat in the pan, about 7 minutes -flip meat, add veggies, lid, about 7 minutes -wash knife and cutting board -remove meat and add sauce to veggies, re-lid, 1-2 minutes -finish starch, refrigerate extra meat and starch  -put everything left on a plate -wash pot and pan -eat.

[delphictrip]

Vegan cooking resources that have helped me out a lot

Budget Bytes is amazing. If you have $12 to throw at a printable online cookbook I would recommend it, the cookbook is basically meal planning with weekly grocery lists. If that's not your jam, above is the link for her vegan recipes.

Bad Manners is a vegan chef outfit. I have a few of their cookbooks and I love them, although they can be a little hard to follow. I've linked their recipe list and it looks like you can apply filters for different types of meals and ingredients.

Tofu is very versatile. Here's a cool list of marinades that kicks ass. I recommend pressing the water out of firm tofu if you're cooking it. You don't have to marinate but it can help. The flavor of plain tofu has actually grown on me as long as it's not all I can taste in the dish.

To press I typically wrap it in paper towels and then an absorbent dish towel. Then place it between two plates and I put maybe 2-4 cans of beans or whatever on top. Let that baby sit for as long as you want, 30 minutes is generally the recommended time but you can let it go longer or a little shorter if you're super crunched on time.

Freezing tofu is a decent method of preservation if you have too much to eat or it's going to go bad (almost never a problem for us, and it keeps pretty well in the fridge). Do note that freezing tofu completely changes the texture and essentially turns it into a sponge. You can squeeze water out of it with your hands and it soaks up marinades like crazy but it doesn't hold together too well for frying and you can turn it into a giant mess if you try to press it with too much weight (it will fall apart).

A favorite method of cooking tofu is frying it with a cornstarch crust. I don't bother making it fancy, usually just salt and cornstarch is my jam. I wouldn't recommend marinating it first because if it's too soggy the crust doesn't stick well to the tofu. Also do not recommend making this in advance because the crust turns gummy if you leave it sit too long. Super tasty for dinner over rice and stir fried veggies though!!!

This is a pretty decent guide. Also, a lot of the "vegan diets aren't good for you/a good way to get your nutrients" that you hear about people who quit veganism are people who either didn't plan it very well/did not get supplements or did something bananas like a raw food vegan diet and it didn't work out for them. I tend to not plan my food too well aside from "protein, vegetable, grain" and I get my fats and sugars from the oils I use to cook and the sugars that come with the other categories or the junk food part of my diet. Pure junk food vegan isn't very sustainable and neither is raw vegan. If you're going to go vegan you will likely have to do a lot of cooking for yourself. I keep chickn nuggets around for lazy nights but if I have the energy I'm making something with chickpeas and rice or beans and rice or tofu or seitan as the protein of the dish.

Contrary to popular belief you do not have to subsist off of quinoa and avocados. I barely eat either because a) don't really like quinoa and b) avocados suck because I live in Alaska and it's nearly impossible to get good avocados.

Another point is to not beat yourself up if you accidentally use/consume an animal product. It happens to the best of us, best thing to do is to move on with the knowledge of what to avoid in the future.

The more you learn on this journey will likely lead you to conclusions you never saw coming. You may be in less denial about what happens to farmed animals. You will be upset about the little non-vegan parts of foods that could easily be vegan (see: gelatin in cereal for some reason. milk powder in chips.). You will find yourself avoiding leathers and furs. You will find yourself absolutely horrified with standard practices in animal agriculture the more you open your mind to learning about it. You will also find yourself more open to seeing animals in a different way. I was a carnist a little over two years ago. I'm still a rather new vegan, but it's amazing what a paradigm shift I've experienced.

Going vegan helped me in ways I never expected. It helped me emotionally with the trauma around the hobby farm I grew up on. Actually uncovered some memories I had blocked out. It also feels good to know that I'm not contributing to the suffering of industrialized animal agriculture.

Anyways, go vegan! The vegan society defines veganism as "as far as practicable" and for most people that is a lifestyle and diet completely without animal products. Sometimes there are barriers for people and reducing animal consumption as much as you can is still helpful.

[highqueenofelfhame]

An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

[theobxhummingbird]

RATHER DIE FROM LOVE. -JJ MAYBANK X READER.

Summary: JJ joins a cooking class with John B, and so happens to be taught by his long time crush from the island.

A/N: My JJ series is personal to me, I cannot explain. It’s what I started this blog for, and am so happy to be able to still write for it. OBX family forever. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

(GIF CREDITS TO OWNER)

-

It took John B a long time, to finally unstick JJ from the old couch, and drag him to the Volkswagen. He’s been planning to cook for their dinner date with Sarah; which was his biggest mistake in the first place, for promising her and at the same time lying that he can cook, that all that came to his head was joining in on a culinary class a group of students held in the Outer Banks. He was lucky, OBX gave even that chance to save him from embarrassing himself in front of his girlfriend.

And of course, John B being John B, brought both JJ and Pope with himself for support, knowing Pope’s the smarter one, and JJ...he was just there to be present.

-I don’t understand why I’m going? -JJ shut the door, -Like, I don’t even own the C from cooking. How am I supposed to go there, not knowing what even the vegetables are called?

-JJ, it’s a class, that’s why they’re held, so people can learn. -John B turned the keys, and started the car, leaving the Chateau.

-What if we get salmonella, huh? Did you think about that? We have to try the food.

-You eat moldy breads, your organism is used to it. -Pope added from the back.

-That’s not the case now Pope, shut up. -JJ tried to give some reasons for them to get back so he could sleep in all day. -Look bro, we can go back while we have time. Think about it.

-I promised Sarah I’ll cook her dinner. And the only thing I know is making a toast, that I end up burning every time.

-That was your first mistake---promising. -said JJ, and rested his elbow on the window.

-

He looked like a little kid, brought to the doctor’s without his willingness. JJ sluggishly followed John B and Pope to the sign up stand, and when they got their badges, a table of cooking equipment was waiting for them.

-Did you take band aids, in case we murder each other? -JJ said to Pope.

-Why would we use band aids, if we’re murdering each other?

-I don’t know what I’m saying bro, it was the first and stupidest thing that came to mind. -he observed the table detail by detail.

-Ssh, the class is starting. Our teacher’s approaching the tables. -John B whispered to them. And just like struck from reality, and happiness at the same time, JJ’s mouth dropped to his feet. His eyes focused on her, and only blurred out everyone around except her. JJ’s skin littered with goosebumps, and Pope noticed he’s not listening to anything at the moment, even John B repeating the same words to him, so nudging him came the first thing to save his friend from embarrassing himself.

-Your name? -said one of the students.

-Beautiful...-JJ trailed his eyes to where she was going, but when Pope cleared his throat after the nudging didn’t work, JJ was back to reality, -Huh---Oh, JJ...Maybank, JJ Maybank.

-Bro, what beautiful are you talking about? -him and Pope started laughing at their friend.

-Dude, that’s the girl I’ve been talking to you about. The one I saw at the kegger, Y/N. Oh how she’s pretty in daylight.

-See, coming here wasn’t so bad after all.

-Shut up, let’s get you die of salmonella, rather than die from Sarah. -he said, and took a hold of whatever the others did.

-You have a whole hour to complete a meal, and I’ll come and taste each one. Please don’t make a mess, or borrow things from others. Everyone has their ingredients in front of them. We’ll be helping you all with cutting, stirring, or whatever you need a help with. Okay? -she said, and when everyone approved she jogged to the radio and put some music on, and started dancing her way to the table.

The student group also cooked something, and she was mostly present there, and also being present at the other tables.

-Wait, wait. -she appeared next to JJ, -You can’t cut these too big, for else they won’t be easy to fry, -Watch. Slowly, and they’ll be thin. And don’t press on the knife too hard...uh....

-JJ. -he said, leaning on the counter and glancing at her lips.

-JJ, don’t press the knife to hard. Watch. -she gave him the knife, and positioned her hand on top of his, as they both cut some fries.

She danced her way to one of her guy friends, and they both danced to the music. Y/N held the energy of the group, and it made everyone willing to work, because usually classes like this were said to be too boring. But the girl seemed skillful when it came to entertainment and professionalism.

-That blonde guy over there, has been drooling over you this whole class. -her friend secretively tried to seem as if dancing, just to whisper her that sentence.

-Who? JJ? When I heard his name, I instantly knew he’s the well-known heartthrob in the Outer Banks. I’m not his type sweetie.

-Are you joking? It’s been said that he has a crush on you, but you didn’t hear it from me. -she sang-song the last bit, and moved to the tables that needed help.

-What were you talking about? -he said, and Y/N just shrugged her shoulders, dancing to distract him so he couldn’t ask too many questions, or that same one over and over again.

JJ didn’t even take in one thing from the class, his eyes were darting whenever her figure popped up at a table or he saw her moving around, dancing and singing.

-Bro, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this same thing for Sarah tonight. -John B felt hopeless from the class, but he really did succeed in making a meal that day. As well as JJ and Pope.

-Sht, -Y/N’s best friend nudged JJ, -I didn’t give it to you, okay?

-Wha-JJ took the tissue paper.

-Y/N’s Instagram and number. You’re not too secretive, Mr. Maybank, it’s obvious. I didn’t give it to you, hey, remember that.

John B and Pope were dying of laughter next to him, -Dude, the whole class realized you like the girl.

-Don’t joke with me, or you’ll feed Sarah with algae and snails. -he said, and shoved the tissue in his pocket.

-Disgusting. -said Pope and continued with whatever he was inventing at the moment. -Bro, I’m for math and physics, not gastronomy.

-If you weren’t forced to cook, I would’ve positioned you with the job of counting how much more time we have. -said John B.

-We have 15 minutes John B, and you’re still not even on the sauce.

The timer beeped, and everyone left what they were doing, and the students came to each, taste what the others have made. Praising some, and definitely giving a few critics to others, the class was over, and the money collected were donated to the charity that helped with saving the Outer Banks animals.

With John B being happy with his one-day cooking skills, Pope thrilled he’ll rest, and JJ more happy than the both of them for having the girl’s number and Instagram, the three of them headed for the Chateau, where Kie was waiting.

-John B you’re supposed to be making this yourself. -she said, setting the romantic table for the two.

-What are friends for Kie? To help each other. -he said, trying to make the plates look like he’s been working as a chef at The Wreck his whole life.

-Dude, I don’t even know how to fold these napkins. -said JJ, trying to watch a tutorial on YouTube on how to make them a heart.

-Give me that. -Pope got annoyed at how he crumbled a 100 by that time, and grabbed them from his hands.

The table was set, and it looked amazing. Everyone promised they will keep the secret, saying the following : “No Pogue on Pogue-exposing”.

-Get lost now, so Sarah doesn’t get suspicious when she sees you here. -he said, and fixed himself.

Kie, Pope and JJ, all got outside and decided to visit the Wreck for their dinner. It wasn’t fancy like John B’s, but it was enough for them.

-J, did you text Y/N? -said Pope, filling a glass of water.

-Nah dude, I can’t pull myself to do it.

-Who’s Y/N? -said Kie.

-The girl that taught us how to cook, who also happened to be JJ’s crush from the kegger.

-Oh the girl that you couldn’t stop talking about. Oh, now I see.

-Yeah, and one of her friends gave me her number and Instagram.

-Because old chap JJ, wasn’t secretive at all, and the girl saw that.

-At least I got her number, what did you get? No culinary scholarship.

-Don’t hit my soft spot like that. -he said, holding his left side.

-Then DM her, what, are you waiting for an invite? -said Kie.

JJ opened searched her name, and opened clicked on the message:

JJ: Hey, it’s JJ from the class today.

Y/N: Hiiiii JJ, how are you?

JJ: I’m good, how are you?

Y/N: I’m doing good, thank you.

JJ: So um---I found your Instagram account, and didn’t know if it would be creepy to write to you after today’s class immediately, but I thought why not, so here I am.

Y/N: No problem, it’s not creepy at all don’t worry.      

JJ: I actually saw you at a kegger, a few weeks ago.

Y/N: Oh really. Hmm, I wasn’t paying attention to the people, because my friends from abroad were there and I wanted to spend some time with them. But if I was, then there would’ve probably been a chance of seeing you.

JJ: It’s fine, I spotted you anyways.

Y/N: Yeah, you did. 😊 

JJ: Are you down for some drinks tomorrow, my treat?

Y/N: Sure, why not, let’s get to know each other.

JJ: I’ll pick you up, then we can go to one of mine and the Pogues’ favorite cafe here in the OBX.

Y/N: That sounds perfect, see you tomorrow then?

JJ: See you tomorrow. 😁

Y/N: Bye, JJ Maybank. 🥰

JJ: Bye, Y/N Y/L/N. 🥰

-She’s one chill person bro, let me tell you. -said Pope reading the DMs they sent each other.

-You’re going on a date with her, that’s what matters. -added Kie.     

-I’m so excited, my feet are itching. -said JJ, rubbing them together.

-I think you need to wash them, that’s why they itch.

-Pope, I didn’t know you’re a dermatologist bro. -JJ rolled his eyes, and reread the texts with Y/N. Nothing mattered to him at the moment; when they got to the Chateau, he plopped on the hammock, thinking of what he’ll do with Y/N tomorrow. And she seemed to do the same, because after hours of stalking his Instagram profile, some sort of excitement was born in her. OBX’s biggest flirt wanted to go on a date with her, still sounded surreal to her and it had her shook for a long time, until she fell asleep.         

The both of them met at the decided place, and obviously chilled Y/N went in for a hug, which left JJ a bit confused though he played it off nicely. They went inside the cafe and ordered their drinks.

-How’s the milkshake? -he pointed to the glass with his eyebrows.

-It’s the best one I’ve drunk so far. -she giggled. -It really is, I swear.

-Okay, okay I believe you. -he let out a short laugh.

-I like the place as well, retro-vintage style is my absolute favorite for cafes.

-Yeah, I like it too. -he said, looking at her as her eyes wandered around.

-So, are we just going to talk about the place, or are you going to say what you’ve been trying to, and I’ve been waiting for?

-Haha, I’m that obvious huh? 

-I mean---a little bit. -she laughed.

-Okay, okay. See, I’m never a straight-forward person. I throw in words, but never tell what I want to. I like you Y/N, and have liked you since the kegger. And now, that I have you in front of me, I am asking you if you want to be my girlfriend?

-I do, JJ. I do want to be your girlfriend. And maybe, I don’t know, I seem like I’m not interested, I like you too. You are a fun person, and I know I’ll have fun and happy times with you, so yes we can date.

His hand travelled to hers, and he kissed her knuckles. After a long time of peeking for each other at keggers, the two got to be face to face at one table. Sometimes expressing love, doesn’t need many gestures. Just a few confessions of what two really feel for each other, is enough to form a bond they’ll soon need to take care of. And Y/N and JJ did the same; without complicating it and talking to each other, they could now call each other ‘us’.

[the-acolytes-collection]

Rainy Days

SFW(Insinuation of NSFW)/1069 Words(nice)/Monster/Creepypasta x Human

You woke up gradually, the cold air in the room not able to penetrate the warmth trapped under the covers. But eventually, you were pulled into the waking world by a soft, repetitive sound. Turning towards the source, you found that the skies outside were grey and water trickled slowly but surely down the window pane.  Careful not to disturb the being behind you, you reach over and grab your phone from the bedside table, searching for the weather forecast. According to the screen, it was going to rain all day long.

‘Perfect’you thought to yourself, attempting to finally put your plan into action.

You had been wanting to treat your boyfriend, who had been running himself ragged with his job as a medic and as a being, feeding his hunger and needs. You knew he had been stressed lately, and wanted desperately to help.

So, after a few moments listening to his breathing and ensuring he was asleep, you made a quick but silent switch. You moved a pillow downwards as you slipped out of bed. Jack grabbed at the thing, sniffing it subconsciously, his instincts making sure you were still with him. The fact that the pillow was warm and smelt like you was enough to trick him. 

You tried to mimic your stealthy boyfriend, creeping quietly over the wooden floorboards until you got to the door. You opened it just enough to slide through and closed it quickly behind you.

You didn’t stop being tense, listening for any noise or movement coming from the bedroom, until you made it to the kitchen. Once you were sure you had made it out undetected, you let yourself have a few seconds to celebrate.

Then it was time to enact your plan.

You pulled frying pans and a griddle out as quietly as you could, which was made much easier thanks to Jack organizing the kitchen not too long ago. You turned to the fridge and surveyed the contents. You grabbed a package of bacon and a plastic bag, with strips of meat inside and labelled ‘Jack’, before turning back to the stove.

You laid out the strips of bacon on one pan to your left, and the other meat to the other on the right. 

Though you didn’t always enjoy the thought of what Jack had to eat all the time, you knew that it was necessary for him to survive. You also knew that he already beat himself up about it to begin with, so you swallowed any discomfort with love for your boyfriend.

You moved over to the pantry, grabbing a box of pancake mix and following the instructions. Add dry ingredients, add the rest, stir, then pour. You weren’t happy with the first batch, the few that came off burnt because you were busy with other things. But soon enough you had a plate of pancakes on the little, two-person dining table you called the dining room. The meats followed soon after, sitting on separate plates on either side of the pancakes. You had just washed off the fruit and prepared the knife when arms wrapped around your middle and pushed you against the counter.

“You left,” Jack grumbled into the conjunction of your neck and shoulder.

“I wanted to treat you. It’s the perfect day to stay inside and unwind.” You insisted, leaning back.

Jack hummed, kissing at a sensitive spot on your neck. “It would have been a treat just to stay in bed with you. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Oh hush.” You set the knife down and spun, kissing him. He held you tight against him as his tail curled lovingly around your leg. His lips were somewhat chapped, their pretty much constant state.

Once you pulled away, you looked up at him. No matter what size most anyone was, he was still massive by height standards. “I wanted to do all of this.” You smiled.

He kissed you again, and you melted. He pushed you into the counter more, but you stopped him before you both got too carried away.

“I made breakfast for you. Go eat.”

He chuffed, the sound coming from deep in his chest. You knew this sound meant he was trying to be rebellious, kind of like calling your bluff.

You turned around, deciding not to play into the little game, and started where you left off with the fruit. “Eat, Jack. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He chuffed again, but moved and sat down at the table. Once you were done with the fruit, you joined him.

After piling your plate with what you wanted, you looked at him in his seat across from you. He had a cut up a few pieces of meat and bacon, sandwiching them together. You also noticed a few bites taken out of the pancakes.

“How is it?” You asked casually, eating a bit for yourself.

He swallowed what was in his mouth before answering. “It’s great. It came from you, of course it’s great.” 

You smiled at him. “Thanks. I burnt a few of the first pancakes, so I’ll feed that and whatever we don’t eat to Seed later.”

Jack nodded in agreement, taking another bite of food.

“But,” he began, a smile starting to grace his lips. “I still would have liked it if we were in bed.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling all the while.  “Well, after this we can spend all day together in bed. How does that sound?”

Jack’s smiled widened, showing off his impressive sharp teeth. “It sounds wonderful. But darling, I don’t think we’ll be in bed all day.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and titled your head a little. “What do you mean?”

His foot playfully pushed yours a bit and his tail wound up your leg again. “We’ll be on the floor, and against the wall or the window, and, well, anywhere else you’d like, love.”

Your eyes widened a fraction, finally catching on to what he meant. He had a predatory smirk on his face as he watched the blood rush up your cheeks. After a tense moment of silence, you tossed a piece of fruit at him, hitting his face.

“Eat your breakfast first, pervert.” 

He laughed, flinging the fruit back at you. You giggled too, the sound of laughter bouncing off the cabin walls. Grey mornings weren’t so bad. Not too bad at a

[pixie88]

My Science Buff

A/N: Those who play Lovelink know Marco Bottazzi. He recently when grey on me, I miss him so decided to do a FF especially for him! He makes it hard not to fall for him while he sets you up with his best friend. This might be a one shot piece or I might continue I’m not sure yet. Let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged!

Find my other Marco Bottazzi FF HERE on my masterlist under Lovelink - One shots. Along with my Rory Bear & Shopping Trip (Rory O’Brien), Tattoo Artist to Businessman (Blake Bailey) & Photogenic (Dominic Wright) FF. .

Comments always welcome!

Word count: 1649

WARNINGS: ⚠️ MILD NSFW & Fluffy fluff

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Lovelink.

Pairings: Marco X MC - Naomi

Enjoy!

*1 New Message on Lovelink from Marco*

[Hey Naomi, I've broken things off with Sally. She also admitted she has feelings for Taylor. She still loves me but not in the same way she used to. She also said she was forced to realize our spark had disappeared the moment she saw us together]

[Hi handsome, I hope you are ok? Wow, talk about string you along....! So what happens now?]

[*Blushing!* I'm actually........relieved don't get me wrong, I am a little sad 10 years is a long time, but we have been dead in the water for a while it took meeting you to realize that. Now? Sally has moved back to her parents until I find somewhere to live. I was hoping this also means I could take you on a proper date JUST me and you?]

[Just goes to show when you are too close to someone you never really see the situation right in front of you. It always takes an outsider to see what you have become blind to. Sound like you have a plan. A date? Not too soon?]

[Ouch! But I know you are right. Yeah, I can't wait to move on with my life. Too soon? I don't think it is unless you have changed your mind?]

[I am always right, I thought you had figured that out already haha! I haven't changed my mind, I'm just worried it might be too soon for you?]

[I have lol! Definitely not too soon. I want to take you on a date just me and you. A real date please? :( ]

[You are a fast learner haha. OK, how can I say no to a sad face?]

[I am! You can't ;) why don't you come here and I'll teach you how to make Ramen?]

[I'm not comfortable with coming to yours and Sally's place! What if you came here instead?]

[Ok, that's fine. Yeah, I'll grab the ingredients on the way. Are you free tomorrow night?]

[Great, I can't wait! Tomorrow is fine. I get back from work at 5 so shall we say 6 maybe 7?]

[I can't wait either. Awesome I'm excited to see you! Is 7 ok?]

[I am too! 7 is perfect! Do you need me to get anything?]

[Awesome! I'll see you then. Text me your address and no I'll grab everything on the way]

~*~*~*~

The next day I get in from work and go for a shower, I decide on a navy polka dot dress. I leave my hair with wavy curls, I'm just finishing my make up when I hear a knock at the door. I look up at the clock, it only 6.41 pm he's early! I spray myself with perfume and head to the door. I open it, and he stood there with a massive bouquet of flowers.

He's wearing a grey suit and a white unbuttoned shirt, just looking at him gives me butterflies!

"Marco, you didn't have to get those"

"Naomi, I wanted to give you a real romantic date! You look beautiful"

"Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself. Come in,"

He smiles, hands me the flowers as we step inside. "You have a gorgeous home Naomi"

"Thanks, the kitchen is this way" I lead him to the kitchen.

We get to the kitchen, he puts the bags on the side and empties the bags.

"So, what do we need to do?" 

"Chop and wash the ingredients first, then stir fry the pork mince," he says.

"Great, let's get started,"

He smiles "I got us some wine too"

"Great, I'm looking forward to this!"

"Me too!" he smirks.

I get to work on chopping while he cooks the pork. We move around the kitchen together. Each time I look over at him, he's already looking at me. My cheeks burn as I blush. I set up the table as he finishes cooking and dishes up.  I grab the wine and a couple of glasses as he takes over the plates.

We take our seats "Dig in" He says.

As soon as I put the first mouthful in, it's like an explosion of flavours in my mouth "Oh my god Marco this is amazing!"

His face lights up "I'm glad you like it"

"Like it? I love it. Please tell me there is more?"

"There is loads more. Probably enough to feed you for a week" He says.

I laugh. After dinner, I start to clean up when his arms come around me and I turn in his arms to face him.

"Hey" He smiles.

"Hi" my heart is racing.

He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, he leans in his face inches from mine. I close the gap crashing my lips to his, the kiss is electrifying my hands' come round to the nape of his neck and his tongue invades my mouth. He pulls me tighter to him as he deepens the kiss, he lifts me onto the counter this kiss becomes more fierce.

His hand starts to run up my thigh and slips under my dress. We can't get enough of each other, he finds my centre and he brushes against me.

"Marco......we should stop"

He pulls away confused. "Marco, don't get me wrong, I want to I really do but I don't want to rush this. I want it to be special"

He smiles "You're right, let's take it slow"

He helps me down off the kitchen counter "Hey, I forgot dessert!" He pulls a tray out of his shopping bag and unwraps the brown paper.

"I hope you like homemade chocolate brownies"

My face light up "Brownies? You made brownies?"

"Yeah, I thought you might like them?"

"You're going to have to fight me for some" I grab the tray and run but he chases after me.

"Hey!! Come back here with those brownies!" He shouts.

I laugh running away from him, I run behind the couch, and he's on the other side.

"NAOMI!" he says with a smirk

I take a brownie from the tray and take a huge bite "Oh wow! These are amazing! They might even be better than sex!"

He laughs "That's probably because you haven't had sex with me yet" he winks and I blush, this distracts me so I don't have time to react when he jumps on and over my couch and grabs me.

"Ahhhh!" I scream as he takes the tray off me "One, that was sneaky and two, no shoes on my couch!"

He laughs, "Sorry, I'll make it up to you by baking you a mountain load of brownies?"

I smirk "Ok, I forgive you!"

"Good, now let's sit down and eat these" he takes my hand and leads me back to the dining table.

"So, have you found a place to stay?" I ask.

"I actually viewed a place 5 minutes away from here before our date"

"Ooo, so we could be neighbors?!"

He laughs, "Yeah, I guess so!"

"Have you spoken to Taylor since the other day?" I ask.

"Nope, he's being awkward with me. He is ignoring my calls at the moment"

"Why? You did what he asked you to do!"

"I don't know. To be honest with you since he told me about his feelings for Sally. I don't feel like I know him anymore. If that makes sense?"

"Perfect sense! Especially since he's kept a secret from you for so long"

He gives me a weak smile "Let's not talk about them. This is our date, not theirs"

I smile, "So as it's our date. Have you seen there is a Science convention at the weekend?"

His face lights up "Yeah, I actually have two tickets for me and Tay...." he cuts himself off.

"So you are going by yourself?" I ask.

"Yeah, I am now," he says.

"Tell me no if you want but if you still have Taylor's ticket I would love to go with you!"

He's beaming "Really? You would come with me?"

I laugh, "Of course! If you invite me that is!"

He smirks "You said you weren't much of a science buff!"

"I might not be but it's something you like, so I want to take an interest in it. You might have to explain a lot to me, but I'm willing to learn if you're willing to teach? Pun intended" I wink.

"Wow, Sally would never com....know what I would love for you to be my date!"

"Ooo I didn't know it would be a date! I'll have to wear a super sexy outfit" I say with a grin.

"Not too sexy you'll give all those nerds a heart attack" he laughs.

A little while later he's leaving.

"Text me when you're home?"

He smiles "Will do! Thanks for tonight Naomi!"

"Thank you for all the amazing food!" He pulls me to him and plants a soft kiss against my lips.

"I'm so looking forward to this weekend!" He says as he pulls away.

"Me too!" I wink.

He walks down the steps and starts walking down the street to his car as he drives past and waves.

20 minutes later I'm getting ready for bed when my phone vibrates.

*1 New Message on Lovelink from Marco*

[Hey, gorgeous! I really enjoyed tonight and I'm home BTW! Also, do you think we could actually exchange numbers now? Rather than talking through a dating app? X]

[Hi handsome, I had a fab night too so thank you. Glad you made it home safe! Mister Bottazzi I never give my number out before I put out ;P So you have 1, 2, or maybe 5 dates before you earn that privilege! ;) Night xx]

[HOLY CRAP! Now that's all I can think about :( X]

[You're welcome! Nighty night xx]

[I'm going for a cold shower. Sweet dreams X]

I’m tagging you because I know your a Lovelink fan lovely @khoicesbyk​

[72stars]

Golden Deer Food & Wine Festival (aka idle thoughts on characters' favorite foods and teas)

in which I try to organize information and my thoughts on a topic and then go ahead and post it because "eh, someone else might be interested". includes Fire Emblem: Three Houses spoilers, but mostly about Claude's heritage which is basically an open secret in this fandom in general by now anyway? (honestly if you're paying attention you can figure it out in part one pretty easily - he may have promised his parents not to say where he's from but he really pushes the boundaries on that promise.) anyway fair warning!

post includes: the Golden Deer and the (non-Wolf) students I've recruited in my current playthrough (Sylvain, Caspar, Linhardt, Dorothea, Ferdinand, Mercedes, + Cyril & Flayn) because, well, those are the characters on my mind atm and this is already going to be super long, so I'll leave it there (for now?)...

Byleth

no canonical information. a blank slate that eats a lot, for you to headcanon preferences onto as you wish. iirc there's one or two early game questions other characters ask re: whether Byleth likes sweet or spicy food (as if these are somehow mutually exclusive), but these effect nothing but affection points.

(headcanon: actually really likes both sweet and spicy foods, but main preference is just for convenient foods - sweet bun trio, sandwiches, skewers, etc. something they can shove in their face as they move on to whatever they're doing next. also likes sweet teas. likes putting more sugar in their sweet teas. sometimes has to be actively stopped from turning their tea into a lightly tea-flavored pile of wet sugar. why are you like this, Teach? (the answer: not used to sweets and now has regular access to them and cannot and will not be stopped))

Claude

favorite teas: Almyran Pine Needles, Chamomile

liked foods: Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Onion Gratin Soup, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Bourgeois Pike, Sauteed Jerky, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cheesy Verona Stew, Gautier Cheese Gratin, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay (mentions in different places that he can cook, but maybe it's just wrt to Almyran dishes. though given his cooking dialogue shows him being adventurous with ingredients/ingredient combinations, it might also just be that he cooks things that he really likes, but everyone else is just kind of "eh, it's okay" on because of how much he tailored it to his preferences...) (thinking about it, given his knowledge of poisons and the fact that he's survived multiple assassination attempts, I wonder if his cooking style (and also maybe his fondness for wild game) came about because he had to learn to cook for himself with whatever he could get his hands on to limit opportunities to kill him...)

thoughts:

fandom: haha Dimitri likes cheese :)

Claude: YEAH, look at that wacky guy Dimitri, liking all the cheese dishes. so silly, liking cheese so much, haha... ha... *quietly shoves more cheese in his mouth when no one's looking*

...yeah but no seriously it's just funny to me that you see a lot of fanart with Claude playing the straight man to Dimitri's cheese fixation and oh, would you look at that, guess who likes every cheese dish on the menu. Dimitri, yes, but also Claude. (doesn't like the Blue Cheese gift item, though. guess he prefers his cheese with less mold in it, idk) (and okay, with the cooking ability section in mind: how much cheese do you think he puts in his cooking. maybe Dimitri'd like his cooking...)

okay, call-out post about Claude's love of cheese aside, main things of note: doesn't like sweets (though apparently is neutral on it if it's ice cream, maybe because of the novelty? will also accept sweet sauce on pheasant), really likes cheese and pheasant and meat-heavy dishes in general. "eh" on fish, likes some vegetable dishes. likes a fair amount of convenient foods, like skewers, the meat pie, and the fried pheasant, which specifically mentions its sandwichability in its description. would probably love fast food, just burgers and 20 piece chicken nuggets everyday. likes almost every recipe in the "bitter" category, and everything in the "meat" category.

tea! likes the explicitly Almyran tea, because of course he does, and, interestingly, chamomile, which according to the description "calms nerves and heightens concentration", the latter of which fits with Claude, and the former of which fits with what chamomile's known for irl, and is interesting to me, in a "further justifies my headcanon of Claude having anxiety issues, he's just usually pretty adept at hiding it" kind of way. (being subjected to assassination attempts and harassment from an early age will do that to you, I'd imagine) oh, and apparently pine needle tea is actually a thing? and it's said to be good for eyesight, and high in vitamins A & C, so good for things like skin regeneration and your immune system...

Hilda

favorite teas: Albinean Berry Blend, Southern Fruit Blend, Rose Petal Blend, Mint Leaves

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Peach Sorbet, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Fish and Bean Soup, Fisherman’s Bounty, Two-Fish Saute, Cheesy Verona Stew, Gautier Cheese Gratin

disliked foods: Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Cabbage and Herring Stew

cooking ability: okay (and is very "haha it's probably going to be bad don't be upset if it is :) ( :( )" about it, oh no. does mention having fun, but also would rather not do it every day)

thoughts: a fan of sweets and cheese (though not as much of a fan as Claude on the latter, given she's missing a cheese dish). likes fish well enough, so long as it's not pickled or has fish guts in it (two of her liked fish dishes have white trout in them - favorite fish?). has a surprisingly wide variety of teas she likes. just kind of has a variety of likes in general, maybe cultivated by her social butterfly nature? just kind of picked up different dishes and teas she likes from trying foods her friends and people she's getting to know like. (thinking about it, the "oh, okay" varied aspect of her liked/disliked lists could also be due to her fear of disappointing people - she could possibly like or dislike more things but doesn't express that so as to avoid people being like "oh." at her. or maybe she just has varied tastes, eh. (either way though she still stares directly into Claude's eyes as she pushes two of his favorite dishes onto the floor like a disappointed and judgemental cat))

Lorenz

favorite teas: Bergamot, Rose Petal Blend, Seiros Tea

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Daphnel Stew, Onion Gratin Soup, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Gronder Meat Skewers, Fisherman’s Bounty, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Small Fish Skewers

cooking ability: okay (starts out confident despite admitted lack of experience then quickly goes "uhhhh what am I doing ;;")

thoughts: likes three expensive teas (though neither of the two most expensive), because of course he does, and one of them has rose petals, because of course it does. (interestingly, the Seiros tea is specifically mentioned as Almyran - "Seiros tea" is just its name in Fodlan. kind of quietly hinting at his potential for a friendly rivalry and later just friendship with Claude via one of his main interests? hm. or maybe it's just "gotta look religious because I'm a noble so I guess I'll drink the religiously named tea". it's also said to be "fairly basic" in its flavors, maybe good for adding whatever you'd like into it, which would appeal to a tea nerd? also fun fact: bergamot is used in the real-world Early Grey Tea, which is probably what 3H's Bergamot tea is meant to be. a tea associated with being "posh" or upper-class and associated with a real-world noble...) also likes the dish that literally has "bourgeois" in the name, because of course he does. has a lot of dislikes, and apparently a specific fish dislike of Teutates Loach, which features in all of his disliked fish dishes except for the fish skewers, which is also the only recipe with the Airmid Goby. not a fan of wild game dishes - is it specifically the wild game, or does he just not like non-fish or -poultry meat in general? hm

Marianne

favorite teas: Dagda Fruit Blend, Cinnamon Blend, Lavender Blend

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Peach Sorbet, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Onion Gratin Soup, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Cheesy Verona Stew, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Gronder Meat Skewers, Gautier Cheese Gratin

cooking ability: okay (mother taught her when she was very young, but not good at complicated dishes. probably hasn't had the chance to cook much since her parents disappeared...)

thoughts: going through her liked foods I thought she was pescatarian, which makes sense, then all of a sudden pheasant dish. I guess she's mostly pescatarian but just really likes that one dish? a guilty pleasure sort of thing. (wait, actually, according to the description the vegetable stir-fry has eggs in it. maybe she likes eggs?) another fan of sweets, and likes two teas with "unique" flavors. also, lavender is said to be good for anxiety...

Lysithea

favorite teas: Sweet-Apple Blend, Southern Fruit Blend, Crescent-Moon Tea, Honeyed-Fruit Blend

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Peach Sorbet, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Two-Fish Saute

disliked foods: Vegetable Pasta Salad, Onion Gratin Soup, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fish Sandwich, Bourgeois Pike, Sauteed Jerky, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Cabbage and Herring Stew, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay (confident, steers away from using an unspecified vegetable because "it's not highly favored". not highly favored by who, hm? :V)

thoughts: oh. my. god, this fucking dislike list. I started laughing like halfway through it because it's ridiculous, she dislikes basically every vegetable dish and all but like two fish dishes (and the one fish dish she likes is the buttery one), but of course loves everything sweet. Lysithea. Lysithea. this is not how you get people to not view you as a child, Lysithea.

also it's kind of funny she specifically likes the wild game dish that involves rabbits, given she has roughly the coloration of an albino one, and even has lop ear-like chunks of hair. that's cannibalism, Lysithea.

Leonie

favorite teas: Four-Spice Blend, Angelica Tea

liked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Onion Gratin Soup, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Fish Sandwich, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Peach Sorbet, Small Fish Skewers

cooking ability: okay (confident, "just do what feels right")

thoughts: in direct contrast to Lysithea, likes practically everything on the menu but the sweets, but particularly likes fish and vegetables. her favorite teas are a "cleansing herbal tea" and one "that requires a mature palate". she's the practical tomboy big sister of the group and she's not too fussy. also the only female character so far to not like sweets. oh, and did you know angelica is an actual plant? it has medicinal uses, but is also used in alcohol...

Ignatz

favorite teas: Dagda Fruit Blend, Seiros Tea, Lavender Blend

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Gautier Cheese Gratin

cooking ability: okay (humble, gonna do his best, interested in aesthetics as much as taste)

thoughts: another almost-pescatarian character with a poultry dish (or two, in his case - three if you include that sneaky egg-having stir-fry dish) in the mix! also the first of the dudes in this post to like more than one sweet dish (he's also implied by Raph to have low blood sugar, so the penchant for sweets makes sense even besides as a simple taste thing? though eating meat or some kind of protein in general generally helps me out more, personally). has a broad range of liked teas - one "unique", one "basic", one "refreshing". note the lavender tea, though, and remember its use for anxiety.

Raphael

favorite teas: Almond Blend, Ginger Tea

liked foods: Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Fish and Bean Soup, Fisherman’s Bounty, Fish Sandwich, Sauteed Jerky, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Gautier Cheese Gratin

disliked foods: Vegetable Pasta Salad, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: a disaster (good at eating food, but not making it. "try throwing everything together and pouring in some salt. I'd eat that!" honey, no.)

thoughts: practically a carnivore - has exactly one dish he likes with no meat in it, and it's the "country-style" one. if it's not full of protein (or country-style) he's not interested. speaking of protein, one of his favorite teas literally has sliced nuts in it - a tea with protein and stuff you can chew on, sounds about right. the other one, meanwhile, is made with ginger, which is said to help with digestion, which I imagine would be handy for a big eater.

Sylvain

favorite teas: Bergamot, Seiros Tea

liked foods: Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fish Sandwich, Two-Fish Saute, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cheesy Verona Stew

disliked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Fisherman’s Bounty, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay (but not confident about it all)

thoughts: big fan of spicy food and fish, this guy. neutral on his region's signature dish on the menu. the one pure sweet he likes is the one he can share, which fits? fancy tea and a basic tea. also he likes two of the same teas as Lorenz. Bergamot and Seiros tea: the teas for skirt-chasers.

Caspar

favorite tea: Ginger Tea

liked foods: Sweet Bun Trio, Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Sauteed Jerky, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie

disliked foods: Onion Gratin Soup, Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fish Sandwich, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Gautier Cheese Gratin, Cabbage and Herring Stew, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: a disaster (very confident! has no right to be. (does mention "and try not to burn", at least.) ends up apologetically leaving everything to Byleth because he fucks up the ingredients "every time". Cas why)

thoughts: the one sweet thing he likes is the shareable one and it's a liked dish he shares with Linhardt and that's cute as hell. also boy howdy does this boy hate fish and cheese. he dislikes all but one fish dish, and dislikes every cheese dish. given you learn early on that he tends to just sort of inhale his food so he can move on and do something else, I wonder if he dislikes those because he tends to choke on them... (or maybe he has a fish allergy and is lactose intolerant, who knows? he even dislikes the one fishing-related gift, the fishing float...) does eat his veggies, though, so he's got that. like fellow big eater Raph, likes the ginger tea - it is, in fact, the only tea he likes (aside from the two most expensive ones, which are basically the Owl Feathers of the teas and don't count). though given he likes the two non-fish dishes in the "spicy" category and the ginger tea is described as spicy, it may just be a spice thing.

Linhardt

favorite teas: Almyran Pine Needles, Angelica Tea

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Peach Sorbet, Daphnel Stew, Onion Gratin Soup, Fish and Bean Soup, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Gautier Cheese Gratin

disliked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Gronder Meat Skewers, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Grilled Herring, Fisherman’s Bounty, Sauteed Jerky, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay ("most useful as a taste tester ;)", the rest is up to you! (he's kidding) recipe-only, "easy")

thoughts: well someone's a picky eater. likes sweets and cheese (opposite of his bff Caspar), and for a guy who likes to fish, only likes two fish dishes, both of which involve white trout. (has one of the other white trout dishes in his disliked list, though, so it's probably not that he's a fan of white trout.) also dislikes wild game, and has mixed feelings on poultry, which given his dislike of blood makes sense. also has no liked vegetable dishes, and dislikes one of the ones Caspar likes. I'm becoming concerned with how well he and Caspar manage to eat in their ending together... tea-wise, likes an earthy tea and an herbal tea. pine needles for eyesight, angelica for... digestive problems, including loss of appetite? maybe he's not just picky, and it's a stomach thing... (I went and looked at his dining hall quotes and he calls himself picky, though, so eh?)

Dorothea

favorite teas: Sweet-Apple Blend, Albinean Berry Blend

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Peach Sorbet, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Onion Gratin Soup, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Gautier Cheese Gratin

disliked foods: Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay (can cook, but "meh" on it. "all the same once it's in your stomach")

thoughts: like sweets, vegetables, and cheese well enough, and not a fan of fish in most contexts (any context other than "smothered with cheese and onions", specifically). tends to express a "meh"/"idk" attitude toward food in her cooking and dining hall dialogue, and pretty much carries through, except for the pronounced dislike of seafood. both of her teas are specifically mentioned as popular. actually, thinking about it, the phrasing of her dining hall dialogue is kind of odd - "I think I like this, but it's been a while, so I'm not sure", "I'm pretty sure I don't like this, but I'll be OK as long as it's edible". can she taste things? is she hedging around what she likes/dislikes? or due to her childhood has she just simply reached new levels "well so long as I'm not starving and so long as it's not fish, fuck it who cares"? ??? ???????????

Ferdinand

favorite teas: Almyran Pine Needles, Southern Fruit Blend, Seiros Tea

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Daphnel Stew, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Onion Gratin Soup, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Grilled Herring, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Fish Sandwich, Bourgeois Pike, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs

disliked foods: Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Gautier Cheese Gratin, Cabbage and Herring Stew

cooking ability: okay (knows how to cook, but inexperienced. ...immediately starts fucking up, but apparently not bad enough to be part of disaster squad)

thoughts: literally the only things he dislikes are all in the "bitter" category, and aside from being ambivalent toward the "meat" category he likes practically everything else from every other category. even his tea likes are a bit all over the place. honestly so long as it's not particularly bitter you can probably give him anything to eat and he'd just shove it in his mouth and probably enjoy it or at least be like "yeah, this is okay". (and even with this bitter category, in BE playthroughs where you build his supports with Hubie he learns to like coffee, and could potentially get to like other bitter things as well?) he'd be right at home in SoV, eating flour. :V Dorothea compares him to a bee, but he's a lot like a dog in some ways. a big, friendly dog that will eat almost anything...

Mercedes

favorite teas: Albinean Berry Blend, Southern Fruit Blend, Crescent-Moon Tea

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Peach Sorbet, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Onion Gratin Soup, Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Two-Fish Saute

disliked foods: Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Fish Sandwich, Sauteed Jerky, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Saute, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Gautier Cheese Gratin

cooking ability: great! (enjoys baking sweets, "not sure about cooking other kinds of food". likes cooking more than studying or training)

thoughts: here for the sweets and some fish, dislikes all but one "meat" recipe, dislikes the entire "spicy" category, and both poultry options in the "bitter" category. I thought her not being sure about cooking non-baked goods was just her being humble, but maybe it's also because she dislikes so much stuff she's worried it'll affect her cooking...

Cyril

favorite teas: Almyran Pine Needles

liked foods: Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Daphnel Stew, Gronder Meat Skewers, Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant, Vegetable Pasta Salad, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Fish and Bean Soup, Two-Fish Saute, Sauteed Jerky, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs

disliked foods: Onion Gratin Soup, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Cabbage and Herring Stew, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish

cooking ability: okay (doesn't know how to cook, but willing to help. has done other work around the kitchen, but not cooked)

thoughts: likes meats, not a big fan of cheese or couple of items from the "bitter" category (and as you might've noticed, most characters are ambivalent at best toward the fish skewers and crayfish but I mean who fries their crawfish anyway, boil it in spices or put it in an etoufee or something), but otherwise? honestly probably just happy to be eating regular meals. his lone liked tea is the primary Almyran one, which again benefits eyesight, befitting an archer (and thinking about it, also handy for axe-wielders, given axes' lower hit rates)

Flayn

favorite teas: Sweet-Apple Blend, Crescent-Moon Tea, Almond Blend

liked foods: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Bun Trio, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Peach Sorbet, Onion Gratin Soup, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Grilled Herring, Fish and Bean Soup, Fruit and Herring Tart, Fisherman’s Bounty, Fish Sandwich, Two-Fish Saute, Bourgeois Pike, Cheesy Verona Stew, Pickled Seafood and Vegetables, Cabbage and Herring Stew

disliked foods: Vegetable Stir-Fry, Sauteed Jerky, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Sauteed Pheasant and Eggs, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Gautier Cheese Gratin

cooking ability: a disaster (mother was an excellent cook. her? not so much. "a bit of this, a bit of that! This will make it all the tastier", apparently not)

thoughts: tfw when you're so used to jokes exaggerating how much Flayn likes fish that when you compile a list of her liked dishes she feels like a parody of herself. also likes sweets, apparently only likes pheasant with a sweet sauce, and does not like eggs or spicy food, but only dislikes a fish dish if it's super-spicy. teas are all on the refined/subtle/elegant side of things. I wonder if she and Raph have tea together after their training sessions...

final thoughts

Cyril has never cooked and is better than Raph, Caspar, and Flayn. what are you even doing, guys...?

at some point this post became Cheesewatch 2020, carefully monitoring who does and does not like cheese amongst the Deer.

it's after 3 am and I think at one point I had a better idea of how to end this post, but...

[bittersweetmelxdy]

Heyay if its not to much trouble could i get some gavin x mc where they are cooking together. Because mc is worried about him... the man only eats take out and tv dinners someone get him a home cooked meal.

wow can you believe it, I finally got around to this! All jokes aside, thank you so much for being so patient with me, I know you sent it months ago, but here it is xx

Title: making up for almost missesPairing: Gavin x MCWords: 1,571

Gavin had arrived home in the early hours of the morning, and he was surprised to find several missed calls from you. You had also sent a message that simply read ‘Eli said you were coming back tomorrow, I’ll be there at 2, you better be home.’, he was already planning to drop by your apartment as soon as he got back just to see you, but you rarely enforced your presence at his apartment. He simply smiled wryly at his phone, as he checked the time, 4:30am, he sighed sadly knowing that you probably had gotten bored of waiting for him and had gone home. The STF hadn’t anticipated how long the mission was going to take and therefore he hadn’t arrived home on the day he had planned, but the day after. Opening the door to his not dark apartment, shocked him a little, as he always made sure to take off all his lights and electronics before he left for a mission. He took off his shoes, exchanging them for some house slippers, noting that yours were missing for some reason, and shuffled closer to the light source, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at his sofa.

There on his sofa, was you fast asleep, your soft form rising and falling with every breath you took. Gavin walked around the sofa and crouched down in front of your face, his hand reached out and gently brushed some stray strands of hair from your face, smiling as you scrunched your nose in discomfort but otherwise did not stir.

“Hey, did you fall asleep waiting for me?” Gavin breathed, voicing his question but not wanting to disturb the peace in his apartment.  

Not waiting for your answer, he stood up, and then gently wriggled his arm under your sleeping form, one hand under the middle of your back, and the other under your knees. He rose carefully and slowly so you remained asleep and paused at full height for your sleeping form to be used to being air-borne. Just as he was about to take a step, you shuffled in his arms, making noises as you turned your face towards his chest, and Gavin froze. Your arms reached up and unconsciously wrapped them around his neck, using his neck as leverage to push your face into the crook of his neck. Gavin felt heat prickle at his neck, as you breathed in deeply and then nuzzle his neck giving a soft sound of comfort, when you finally settled he breathed a sigh of relief, as he continued his slow trek to his bedroom.

Using your new position helped Gavin as he balanced your weight in one hand and pulled the covers back. Then he gently laid you down on the bed, and carefully detangled himself from you, his heartstrings pulling at the distressed whine that came as you lost contact with his form. He then tucked you in, making sure you were adequately covered, when he heard your soft voice. Looking over he saw you had woken up, but you were still very much dazed and sleep-ridden.

“No…. have to stay… awake.” You tried to climb out of bed.

Gavin gently pushed you back down preventing your movements, “No, you don’t.”

“Mmhmm, otherwise I’ll miss-” a yawn interrupted your sentence, “I’ll miss Gavin.”

“Why do you need to see him?” Gavin asked, curious of the reason behind your stubbornness.

“Have to… take care of him.” you said, your eyes drifting closed, signifying to Gavin that you were falling back asleep.

“Gavin’s fine, he’s seen you and now he wants you to rest.” Gavin placated you running his hand through your hair to aid your journey to dreamland.

“Really? He told you that.” you asked blearily.

“Yes, now get some rest.”

“Okay, tell him I love him.” you finished, drifting off not a second later, missing Gavin’s soft smile and red-tipped ears.

He then leant down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, enjoying your serene expression, “Love you too.” before heading over to his bathroom to take a much-needed shower after the mission.

You blinked open your bleary eyes, hearing the sound of the kettle whistling, and as you sat up you rubbed your eyes clearing the sleep from them. You then looked around, wondering how you had ended up on the bed when you were pretty certain you had fallen asleep on the sofa. You scrunched your brows, thinking it through, when it clicked. Gavin’s back! You threw the blankets off your legs, and stumbled out of the bedroom, seeing Gavin in the kitchen.

“Gavin!” you yelled excitedly, and Gavin had just enough time to spin around and catch the form that literally threw herself at him.

“Good morning.” Gavin wrapped his arms around you and smiled down at you beaming up at him.

“When did you get back?” you asked, pretty sure that you went to bed alone in the apartment, a little after 2.

“Around 2, you were sound asleep, so I didn’t want to wake you.” Gavin nuzzled his nose against yours, deciding to keep your adorable moment last night to himself.

You distangled yourself from Gavin, stepping around him, “Have you eaten yet?” you looked around the kitchen for evidence.

“Not yet, why you hungry?” Gavin asked.

“A little… what time is it?” you questioned.

“A little after 11, you must have been really tired.” Gavin felt bad, knowing that you had probably stayed up waiting for him to come back, hence you falling asleep on the sofa.

You turned and immediately began opening the fridge, pausing for about half a minute to formulate a plan, then you pulled out the necessary ingredients you needed. Gavin hovered behind you, allowing you to pass him ingredients and then then he placed them on the counter behind him. You then pulled out pots and seasonings, before placing your hands on your hips, thinking the recipe over again. Gavin covered your hands with his, giving them a slight squeeze.

“So, what do you need me to do?” he asked.

“Oh!” you started, lost in thought, “Can you help me prep the vegetables?”

The two of you spent the next 15 minutes cutting vegetables, Gavin often pausing just to watch you in awe as you chopped things neatly and at a great speed, whilst he was much slower and despite his weapons training, he was very clumsy with a kitchen knife. Meaning that you ended doing the majority of the prep work, something Gavin tried to apologise for, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness. You waved of his apologies, telling him it was no problem, and proceeded to cook the simple stir-fry, starting by boiling the noodles. Gavin asked questions as you added oil and salt to the water, and you explained your reasons for each.

“The salt is to taste, and the oil is so the water boils faster.” and Gavin nodded understandingly.

Whilst you started the next steps, the beeper for the noodles went off, and as you moved, Gavin hip-checked you to the side, “I got this.” he reassured you, and then he proceeded to pull a noodle out of the boiling water, waiting a couple of seconds, then he ate it.

“It done?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Gavin said, picking up the pot by the handles, as you turned of the tap and placed the colander in the sink, for Gavin to drain the noodles off.

You then finished the stir-fry having Gavin taste at regular intervals to perfect the taste. Once Gavin deemed it perfect, you smiled and then dished up the two plates, Gavin following you as you placed the plates on his table, and you smiled as Gavin sat down, and immediately started eating. You giggled at his enthusiasm, and then started eating as well, although at a slightly slower pace than Gavin. You paused mid-bites a few minutes later in shock as Gavin had already finished.

“So, what do you think?” you asked, continuing to eat the last of the stir-fry.

“Think about?” Gavin dragged out the question, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“The food?” you prompted.

“Perfect, as always.” Gavin winked at you, and you laughed shaking your head.

“Better than take-outs and TV dinners?” you probed, remembering what he had told you about his meals when you had gone to Furniture City together.

“Definitely better.” Gavin declared, walking around the table and offering you a hand up, which you gratefully accepted.

“If you like it so much, I’ll continue to cook for you.” you offered.

“Really?” you smiled brightly, and the spark of hope in Gavin’s eyes.

“Sure, I love cooking for you anyway.” you admitted ducking your head, as your cheeks sported a rosy hue.

Gavin used his hand to lift your eyes back to his, his smile softening as he saw your shy glance and rosy blush, he then pressed a kiss to your nose, “So, do you have to go to work today, or can I keep you for the day?”

Your blush only darkened at Gavin’s words, but you shook your head frantically, “No, I’m free for the rest of the day.”

Gavin drew you into his embrace and the two of you just stood locked in an embrace enjoying each other’s presence and glad that despite Gavin’s irregular hours the two of you hadn’t missed each other.

[fic-for-fic-sake]

First Date?

A/N: Okay so I wrote this in March during the beginning part of quarantine so keep that in mind while you read. I hope you enjoy it and as always; likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Natasha you cannot be serious.” You deadpanned, making a face at her over facetime. 

“I am! I read it in a Buzzfeed article, tinder is letting you swipe all over the globe to find a quarantine buddy. It’s a thing.” She pouted from her end of the line, cutting up vegetables for her lunch. 

“I mean that’s ridiculous, are people really dating over facetime? Is this what the world has come to?” You asked, flopping down on your bed. 

“I mean, life goes on, even if you can’t go outside. Besides, I think it would be good for you, you’ve been in quarantine for more than a week now and you can’t keep facetiming me. Find yourself a new buddy, it could be fun.” She retorted, popping a piece of chopped zucchini into her mouth before throwing the rest in the pan on the stove.  

“What are you making anyway? It sounds loud.” You responded, ignoring her observation. 

“Stir fry, want some?” She teased, letting you see the pan with everything in it that made your mouth water. Red pepper and zucchini along with broccoli, chicken, and beautiful white rice. 

“I wish we were together so you could cook for me.” You moped, feeling your stomach growl with the thought of food. When was the last time you ate again? It was hard to keep track when you couldn’t leave your apartment. 

“It’s not my fault you moved to Spain.” 

“It’s only for a year! And how was I supposed to know this would happen!” You yelled at her through the phone, you doubted it had the same impact because you were staring at her kitchen ceiling as she tended to her lunch. 

“Just think about what I said, I gotta go! I’ll call you back later.” She said, as she blew you a kiss and then hung up, leaving you to look at your own tattered reflection in your black phone screen. 

You sighed as you padded to your kitchen in sweatpants to grab a pint of ice cream you had been working on. You popped a spoon in your mouth and scrolled through your phone, looking for the article Natasha was talking about. Sure enough after opening the Buzzfeed app, you saw that people were indeed doing first dates over facetime. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, you only really had to look presentable from the waist up and you did kind of miss dressing in normal people clothes. 

Spooning ice cream into your mouth you redownloaded the tinder app and started swiping through. People from all over the globe popped up on your phone. New York, London, San Francisco, Berlin, Seoul, and New Delhi. You swiped for longer than anticipated and got a few matches but none of them really panned out until you found one profile in particular. 

Steve Rogers, an artist from Brooklyn who worked at a law firm, interesting combination. His very first picture drew you in, dark blond almost brunet locks swept to the side, a full beard, and a killer smile. Okay, you were interested. You scrolled through his pictures to find one of him in a suit, presumably at work, another of him in a cream colored cable knit sweater looking out into the middle distance, and the last one was him standing shirtless on a beach, hair slightly shaggier and coffee mug in hand. Holy shit. He was gorgeous. You swiped right and nearly dropped your phone out of shock when it said that it was a match. 

No way. No way would this literal Adonis of a human being swipe right on you, but who were you to argue with the tinder algorithm. You got up to put your ice cream back in the freezer when your phone made a pinging sound. A message from Mr. Handsome himself. 

Steve: Hey

You: Hi

Steve: Madrid huh? What time is it there? 

You: A little after 9pm

Steve: What are you up to? 

You: Oh you know, the usual, staring at a wall because I can’t leave the apartment

Steve: Wow, it’s like I’m there with you. 

You chucked at his dry humor. You and Steve talked for pretty much the rest of the night before you told him you were going to fall asleep on him if you stayed up any longer. Before he let you log out for the night, he asked you on a date, over facetime. You smiled so hard you swore you tore a muscle in your face. You accepted his proposal and agreed to facetime tomorrow evening for you and tomorrow afternoon for him, so you could cook together. 

The next day you were freaking out, deciding what to wear. What does one wear to a facetime first date? This was uncharted territory for all parties involved and the internet, where you would usually go for advice, was no help either. Natasha advised just wearing casual clothing, and she was right. You didn’t want to look formal just sitting around your apartment, that would be weird. You decided on a pair of light wash jeans and a baby pink sweatshirt hoodie from Calvin Klein. You kept your hair down, a simple style. You decided against makeup because after the call ended you were just going to take it off anyway. Perfect, you looked good and casual, not like you hadn’t left your house in four days. 

You made sure you had all the ingredients in front of you for a simple dijon sauce and chicken. You were debating whether or not you should wear an apron when your phone rang, it was Steve. You propped your phone up against the wall before you answered. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, adjusting the phone before you stepped back into the frame. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out through your empty kitchen. You took a minute to admire what he was wearing. A plain gray long sleeve shirt hugged his arm muscles and black jeans were on his legs. His hair was swept to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed, truly the picture of perfection. 

“Are you ready to cook?” You questioned, pointing your wisk at the camera which garnered a chuckle from him. 

“What are you making?” He questioned, as he opened the door to his fridge and began to root around for ingredients, giving you a perfect view of his lower half. You tried not to stare at the image of his perfect ass on the frame, instead focusing on lighting the stove and beginning to chop up some garlic. 

“Chicken with a dijon sauce.” You replied, brows knitted in concentration. “What about you?” 

“Funny, I’m making chicken noodle soup.” He replied, laying out his celery on the cutting board and also beginning to chop. 

“God this is strange.” You commented as you turned on your stove and put some olive oil in the pan. 

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Steve implored, putting the chopped celery aside and now moving on to the carrots. 

“Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckled a bit as you threw your chicken breasts into the pan. “How many times have you made chicken noodle soup?” You wondered. 

“I’ve been making it for years, it’s my mom’s recipe.” He explained, a smile on his face as the memory. “It’s kind of a comfort thing and these days I’ll take comfort wherever I can get it.” 

“You and me both Steve.” You replied automatically, flipping the chicken in the pan. He laughed and the two of you made polite conversation as you continued cooking your respective meals. 

“Okay, you ready to eat?” He asked, ladling his soup into a cream colored deep ceramic bowl. 

“My mouth is already watering.” You jested as you plated up your chicken and broccoli and drizzled a healthy amount of sauce over the top of everything. You both went to each of your fridges and grabbed the same bottle of chilled white wine. You had both decided on Verdejo white wine on your suggestion that it was amazing. He said he trusted your recommendation. 

You sat at your plain kitchen table in your small apartment, looking into the phone and seeing he lived in less humble dwellings. You could see a beautiful large window with what you assumed showed a spectacular view of the city. He poured his wine into an intricate stemmed glass while you poured yours into a glass cup. You laughed. 

“What is it?” He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how that smile took your breath away. 

“I just think it’s funny that I have a washing machine in my kitchen, my walls are yellowing, and I’m drinking wine out of a cup.” You said, gesturing to your surroundings. “While you are living in a beautiful apartment and have the perfect drinking vessel for your wine.” 

“Yeah but you’re only in Spain for a year right? Work with whatcha got.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I went to Romania with a friend of mine and we stayed in this little rundown shack with newspapers on the window and we didn’t have electricity.” 

“Wow Romania, what brought you there?” 

“I was commissioned to do a painting of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.” 

“Steve that’s amazing!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “you must be a really talented artist, why’d you switch jobs? 

“I didn’t so much as switch but take a backseat in art. I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills. When I first got to New York I was living on my friend Bucky’s couch, and months later he was kind enough to offer me a position at his law firm.” Steve explained, stopping intermittently to take spoonfuls of soup. 

“That’s incredible. I wish I could paint.” You added, putting a forkful of dijon chicken into your mouth. “But art was never my strong suit.” 

Before he could provide a response, he brought the wine glass up to his lips and your movements halted as he swallowed a few sips of wine. You wondered what he would think of your recommendation. After a beat he wore the biggest smile on his face. 

“Doll, this wine is amazing! How did you know about this?” He asked incredulously. 

You could feel yourself blush at the pet name but recovered quickly, “When I studied abroad in Barcelona I went to a few wine tastings and they always had Verdejo and it was always my favorite, hands down.” 

You and Steve seemed to have no problem coming up with things to talk about. Your dinner time had long since passed and now you were yawning every few sentences and you could feel your eyes drooping. 

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Steve teased, a soft smile playing on those petal pink lips of his. No matter how tired you were you could still feel the need to press your lips against his. After a few more yawns Steve insisted that you hang up and go to sleep which you did begrudgingly. Ten minutes later you sent him a picture of you in your pajamas and tucked under the covers of your small bed. To which he responded with a picture of his own, thumbs up and face beaming. 

You had to remind yourself to thank  Natasha for forcing you to do this tinder business in the first place.

[carol-effing-danvers]

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe), part one

TEACHER STEVE AND SOFT BILLY 

Ten years, eight months, three weeks, and nine days ago, Billy had escaped this Lovecraftian nightmare town and never looked back. He’d come into Hawkins believing that it was his own personal hell and left it certain that it was actual, literal Hell.

(this got long so i decided to divide it into three parts) If you prefer the Ao3 format, click here

Billy’s first thought as he rolls back into Hawkins for the first time in ten years is: I cannot believe Max stayed in this deathtrap. 

He didn’t. Ten years, eight months, three weeks, and nine days ago, Billy had escaped this Lovecraftian nightmare town and never looked back. As soon as he was well enough to leave the hospital, he spent most of his savings on a shitty Ford Bronco (he did NOT miss that car), packed up his records, and hit the fuckin’ road. He’d come into Hawkins believing that it was his own personal hell and left it certain that it was actual, literal Hell.

Billy wonders, a bit guiltily, if Max’s life woulda turned out like this if he hadn’t left her in this Midwestern madhouse all by herself. Only twenty-four and she was already getting a divorce. 

He’s never like Justin van Haut but at first, Billy attributed that to the fact that the dude was dating Max - he had a right to hate any dude trying to fuck his sister, he figured. Facts was just facts. But then they got married and it didn’t get better. If anything, Billy might’ve hated him more. 

Justin reminded Billy way too fucking much of himself, of the strutting arrogant little dirtbag that he used to be - only, van Haut had the money and the influence to get away with his bad deeds. He was the kind of guy who wanted something only until he got it, and then he didn’t want it anymore. 

Billy wasn’t that person anymore. He couldn’t be. It took too much energy that he didn’t have - like the Shadow Monster had sucked all the rage out of him. And without it, there was so little left of Billy Hargrove.

Old Billy would’ve gotten drunk and drove to South Bend. Old Billy would’ve beat the shit outta the bitch-ass pussy who’d spent six and half years cheating on his sister. Old Billy would’ve spent the night in the county lock-up. 

New Billy didn’t do that, because New Billy promised Max he’d be there by dinner time. New Billy knew that Max would just have to bail his sorry ass out of prison with money she didn’t really have. 

But either way, Billy knew even if he had the chance to, he’d never change the way it worked out, because in the end-

“UNCLE BILLY!”

-in the end, he got his girl.

As soon as he opens the door, she launches herself at him. “Who is this?” he demands seriously, stabilizing her on his lap, letting her grip the stirring wheel in two tiny hands. “Who are you? Where’s my Lulu?”

She giggles at his theatrics, tugging at his leather jacket, wisps of red hair escaping her little braid. “I’m Lulu, Uncle Billy!”

He gasps, feigning shock. “You can’t be my Lulu! You’re such a big girl!”

“I’m going to Kindie-gar-den now!” she says proudly, with a cocky little toss of her head that reminded Billy of her mother so much that he couldn’t hold in a grin.

“Yeah? Do you like school, Lulu?” They get out so that Billy can grab some of his things from the trunk.

“Uh-huh. My teacher is really nice!”

“Yeah? What’s your teacher’s name?” he asks absently, resting Lulu on his hip as he pulls his bag from the trunk.

“He’s Mister H!” she says, and his brows bounce up. Male kindergarten teacher? That was pretty unusual. Maybe Hawkins was finally getting outta the Stone Age. He doubts it, but hope springs eternal.

From inside the house, Max yells “Lauren!”

“Mommy, Uncle Billy is here!” she shouts, and squirms back down to the ground, running for the front porch. “Mommy says you can have my room!”

Billy thinks with no small horror of the pink room with Mickey and Minnie Mouse’s faces staring out from the wallpaper. Jesus Christ. Lulu beams at him, utterly delighted at the prospect of her uncle moving in, and he barely has to lie when he says “Fantastic, princess.”

Max gives him a wry smile as she appears in the doorway, practically reading his mind as she wipes her wet hands on a dishtowel. “Welcome home, big brother.”

Old Billy would’ve told her that this town might be home, but it wasn’t his. Home was a place he lost when his mother left him with Neil. New Billy knows Max isn’t talking about Hawkins. “You’re gonna get so sick of me,” he promises, dropping the paper bag he’d taken from the trunk. “Here.”

“What the hell is this?” she asks, laughing. “You better not’ve brought me a bag of p- oh my god, Billy.”

He chuckles at her open-mouth as Max stares down into the stacks of cash inside the crumbled paper bag. Rubbing the short hair at the back of his neck, he awkwardly answers, “Rent.”

“This is way too much!” she protests, trying to hand it back, like she didn’t miss a mortgage payment last month.

Billy dances out of the way, picking Lulu up and twirling her around. Grinning like a madman at her delighted shrieks, he throws her across one shoulder. “Wanna help me set up the stereo, Lulu?”

“Yeah!”

“Billy, get back here!”

“Can’t hear you, Max! All that loud metal music, y’know!”

---

“I’m home!” he calls, pushing the door shut with his hip. The apartment is completely silent and then Steve hears a familiar ‘thump’ and grins.

With her bushy tail held high, a black cat races down the hall, wailing “Waah!”

“Hello, Angie,” he coos, crouching to scratch her under the chin. “How are the birds today, huh?”

“Waah,” she repeats loudly, pleading at him with her huge yellow eyes.

“Missed me?” he asks, stroking the fluffy black fur along her back. “Let’s have some dinner.”

He must’ve told Dustin a thousand, maybe two thousand, times that he did not want a cat, but the very morning that Dustin left for MIT, he dropped the fluffy soot-black kitten on Steve’s doorstep and raced away anyway. “His name is ‘the Witch-King of Angmar’, good luck, Steve!”

Ha. The joke was on him, though. His ‘Witch-King’ was actually a queen and Steve called her Angie and she was a fucking delight – he suspected that Dustin was just overly dramatic. Steve supposed that the cat was a nice compromise, considering that Dustin had tried not to leave for college at all.

That had probably been the worst six months of Steve’s life.

He’d never fought with one of the kids before, let alone Dustin, but they spent nearly all of his senior year fighting – because Dustin managed to get a scholarship, a two-year free ride to Princeton, and he didn’t want to leave Hawkins. Or more specifically, he didn’t want to leave Steve.

Lucas was bound for Howard in DC, Will and Mike were reuniting at MIT, and Dustin got into fucking Princeton, but he didn’t want to go.

(“What the fuck are you talking about, you don’t wanna go? I don’t give two dicks what you want, shithead. I’m an adult, Dustin, and I can take care of myself! You’re not going to throw your whole life into the toilet because you think I’m LONELY!”)

So, yeah. Steve and Dustin spent Dustin’s senior year of high school fighting, and now Steve has a cat and Dustin is in graduate school, because college was where he fucking belonged, just like Steve had told him.

Filling Angie’s bowl, Steve idly dances around the kitchen to no music, pulling open the fridge and peering inside. “What should we have for dinner, Angie? What do ya think Aunt Robin wants to eat?”

Angie doesn’t bother turning her head away from her cat kibble, but her tail swishes at the sound of his voice. Humming ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’, Steve throws together a stir-fry.

Cooking has become one of those parts of being an adult that Steve finds unexpectedly pleasurable. Cutting up the ingredients, mixing spices and seasonings, tending to the food – Steve enjoys that.

He hears jingling in the hallway as Robin comes through the door, purse swinging from her arm. He can also hear her swearing under her breath and she kicks her shoes off onto the mat beside the door. “Angie, Angie baby,” she coos as the cat runs to greet her. “Please feed me, Steve-o. I’m gonna fucking kill Bobby Monroe.”

“Parent-teacher conference didn’t go well?” he asks lightly, fluffing the rice with a fork before he pulled his stir-fry off the fire.

“NO,” she says shortly, before calling “How was the dentist? Is this a bad time to say that I picked up a banana cream pie at Baker’s Square?”

In a rather bloodthirsty tone, Steve replies “Cavity or no cavity, we are eating dessert, Rob.”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to get out a torch and a pitchfork.”

“What happened with Bobby Monroe?”

Oof, speaking of bloodthirsty. Robin’s teeth grind together and Steve pokes her pointedly in the side as he takes their plates down from the cabinet. “His kid is on the verge of going to juvie and this guy just…Does Not get it, Steve.”

Steve’s glasses were on the verge of slipping down the bridge of his nose as he cracked open the tops on two beers. “That’s ‘cause Monroe is golfing buddies with Mayor Walsh and my old pal Tommy Hall, Rob.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Ugh,” she mutters, then brightens a bit. “I got to read another one of Holly’s essays.”

Smiling at his plate, Steve says “Yeah?”

He was a little sad he got into teaching too late to have Holly or any of the other kids as a student, but Robin got the joy of having both Erica Sinclair and Holly Wheeler pass through her classroom. “Her analysis of the creation of the Constitution was…I wanna send it to Harvard, Steve. She’s only fifteen, but she can already understand how to translate nuance in the document. Half of my graduating class couldn’t write something that impressive on early US history.”

“That’s fantastic,” he says, grinning.

“How was Munchkin Land?” she asks, through a mouthful of vegetables and rice.

Laughing slightly, Steve says “The Lollipop Guild always keeps me on my toes. Thank god for naptime!”

They eat banana cream pie on the couch in front of ‘Frasier’, Robin’s toes shoved under his thigh as Steve tries not to fall asleep on the damn sofa. She laughs at him, throwing one of the cushions at his face.

“It’s seven-thirty, you old man,” she teases, coaxing Angie onto her lap.

“Leave me alone,” he whines, melting into his secondhand couch. “I’m an educator of young minds!”

Rob stuck her tongue out at time. “It’s called ‘narcolepsy’, Steven.”

“Please leave me to die in peace.”

She does leave, an hour later, and Steve locks the door behind her like a Responsible Adult.

He is surrounded by almost total silence again. He’s a helluva lot more comfortable with it here in his apartment than he was in his parent’s house. Maybe it was because there wasn’t quite so much space to echo the silence back to him. Maybe it was because there was no steaming blue pool waiting in the backyard. Maybe it was the lack of judgmental silence, which persisted whether his parents were home or away. 

He turns off the television and the lights in the living room, babbling baby-talk at Angie as he brushes his teeth and gets into bed, putting his glasses on the nightstand and sliding between the cool sheets.

Angie curls up behind his knees and Steve closes his eyes and listens to the empty space all around him.

Briefly, he spares a thought of apology for the Dustin of years past, because he’d been right. Steve was lonely. But at least now that he was a real grown-up, he was comfortable with it.

Mostly.

---

“You don’t have to do that,” Max mutters, head resting against the back of the sofa. Lauren was put to bed an hour ago and the only sound down in the house in the constant quiet tick of the grandfather clock in the hall.

“Hm?” Billy asks sleepily, sipping his beer. It was a thirty hour drive between San Diego and Hawkins and Billy had only slept once, and not recently. Honestly, that was probably the best state to experience the Horror of the Mouse that awaited him in Lulu’s old room.

Max gestures restlessly to the stacks of hundred dollar bills hastily stuffed into the paper bag. “Don’t pretend that isn’t your entire savings, Billy.”

“Don’t have to anything but die, Max,” he murmurs, his free hand subconsciously drifting to the tight silvery mass of scarring beneath his shirt, even as his eyes remain closed. With a damp shaky sigh, she leans against his side and Billy shifts that hand to drape around her shoulders. “Don’t fuckin’ argue with me, you know I ain’t gonna let you win.”

His t-shirt gets a little wet. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she admits, sniffling. “I missed you.”

His throat clicks as he swallows. “Missed you, Mad Max.”

Though Billy’s exhausted and goes to bed early, he spends an hour in Lulu’s full-sized bed, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Despite his best-laid plans, here he is. Back in Hawkins, Indiana.

Funny that he still kinda feels like a mess, even though he’s a better mess than he used to be.

When his alarm goes off, Billy has the taste of antifreeze in his mouth and though it’s nearly March and Max keeps the heat low, he’s sweating.

Getting Lulu ready for school is a breeze. Firstly, because she’s smart and independent and she knows the routine she’s supposed to be following by now. Second, because once you fight an interdimensional alien monster and temporarily die, not much phases you anymore.

“This one, Uncle Billy!” Lulu says eagerly, pulling him along through the halls, towing her uncle with single-minded determination. "You can meet Sam and Freddy!"

Samantha Cross and Fred Ferris were Lulu's little friends. "Alright, slow down, you're gonna run someone over," he says, amused. She reminds him so much of Max, it's insane. "This one, Lulu?"

"Yeah!" A dark-haired man wearing a navy cardigan over a collared shirt is helping a pair of identical twins with their coats, crouching near a row of cubbies with sixteen name tags on them – from here, Billy can see Lulu’s near the end: Lauren V. "Hi, Mister H!"

Mister H-who-wears-the-dorky-cardigan turns his head and the bottom of Billy’s stomach drops out.

Steve Harrington gives Lulu a dorky little smile, all cute and happy, squinting from behind the lens of his big nerd glasses, and warmly says “Hello, Lauren.”

As a teenage boy, rolling fresh into Hawkins, Billy had fallen into a wild spiral of lust for Steve Harrington the moment he saw him standing next to Nancy Wheeler at a Halloween party. Closeted and angry and unable to escape his father’s rage and his father’s expectations, all Billy wanted was some of Steve’s attention – he hadn’t dared to let himself seriously consider getting more than that. Steve, being a straight teenage boy with a girlfriend, with popularity and money, had froze him out at every turn, and it drove Old Billy fucking crazy. No matter what he did, he never got a reaction more interested than bland annoyance. 

As hot as his passions for him burned, Billy couldn’t make the Hawkins ice princess melt even a little.

But at a certain point, when you grow up, you can look on certain things you got attached to or certain things you enjoyed as a teenager and find your attachment sort of silly, maybe even comical. New Billy had sort of looked forward to reaching that conclusion here.

This isn’t like that at all.

Actually, Billy thinks it might even be worse than before. Billy feels a dull flush beginning to form over his face and swallows the urge to say something stupid to get Steve’s attention – that was the ghost of Old Billy talking.

God, he looks so good.

All grown up, the knitwear clinging to the tantalizing hint of strong biceps, Steve’s eyes are huge and dark behind the lenses of the geek glasses, bangs hanging down into his eyes. Beneath the cardigan, his collared shirt shows an enticing view of his clavicles and the moles high on his neck. Billy used to jerk off to a fantasy of sucking on them and seeing what kind of noise he would get.

He looks soft and sleepy, like Billy could just curl himself around him and press his mouth to that bare skin and Steve would just-

“This is my Uncle Billy!”

Billy is abruptly pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Lulu’s voice and realizes that he’s well on his way to pitching a tent in his pants in front of Steve Harrington and his five year old niece. What the fuck is his life, seriously?

“Harrington.”

---

“Harrington,” the man next to Lauren drawls, and suddenly, Steve’s attention is focused and sharp.

This is my Uncle Billy.

He’s…wow, he’s really…grown up.

The sneering boy with a headful of dirty blond curls and a baby-fine mustache has aged into a grown man with a full beard – the old mullet has almost reversed, with the hair at the back and sides nearly shaved off and the hair at the top slicked back away from his face.

Oh my god.

So. So so so so so.

The thing about Billy- “Hargrove,” he greets, hoping that he sounds friendly and surprised and not breathless. “Max didn’t tell me you were coming back to town.”

Billy Hargrove was the very first boy Steve was ever attracted to, and after he left town, the realization that 1) he had a big gay crush on him and 2) he wasn’t ever going to see him again, were sorta the things that began his big bisexual breakdown – what Robin affectionately calls Steve’s ‘all dicks tour of ‘86’, even though she still doesn’t know what started it.

And now Billy’s standing here, in Steve’s classroom, the muscles he used to flash now hidden beneath leather and denim and flannel but possessing every inch of them as much as he had ten years ago. He looks like he could toss Steve over his shoulder and carry him off somewhere, like a caveman.

But hotter, Steve thinks, helplessly staring at the long sweep of his lashes. His lips, the same deep, full red of ripened berries. The dusting of freckles over Billy’s cheeks from hours standing in the sun.

For a moment, Steve feels a stab of uncertain fear – has Max ever told Billy anything about what happened in ’86?

No. His relationship with Max may have gotten slightly distant, especially after she officially married Justin, but he was pretty confident that she wouldn’t have told him such embarrassing and personal information about Steve, not when she that knew Billy had hated him.

At least she seems to be right, though – Billy had calmed down a lot.

Billy shrugs, in that effortless, careless way of his. Steve experiences a visceral urge to have that short beard rub his mouth raw and it makes his stomach twist with desire, uncomfortable in its intensity. “Got tired of San Diego – thought I’d see my best girl. Right, Lulu?”

Lulu. God, that’s cute.

Lauren grins up at Billy, proud as a peacock, and Billy smiles back at her for a moment, so nakedly adoring that Steve’s stomach gives another twist, his insides melting into goo. “Billy lives with me and Mommy now, ‘cause he missed me so much,” she declares, lifting her chin. “I’m his best girl.”

“That’s right,” he vows, cuffing her lightly over the head.

“That’s…really nice of you, Hargrove,” Steve says lightly. He knows that Max is getting a divorce – the entire town knows. Honestly if he didn’t think Max would kick him in the nuts, he’d have a nail bat with Justin’s name on it. 

Lucas, chewing on his jealousy like a wad of bubblegum, had told them that Justin had basically spent their entire relationship cheating on her. He’d gotten the most willful girl in school to be his girlfriend and got bored with her almost immediately afterward. 

He has a feeling that was the real reason for Billy’s sudden appearance in town after ten years of absence.

Billy shrugs again and peers at Steve through those long lashes. “Max didn’t tell me you were Lulu’s teacher.” He grins, tongue held between rows of sharp white teeth. Steve’s heart kicks up in his chest. “Kindergarteners, Harrington?”

He smiles awkwardly, dodging the question. “Lauren is one of my best readers,” he says instead. No matter which child it is, Steve can always find a reason to brag about one of his kids. “And her penmanship is terrific.”

Lauren gasps, bouncing with excitement, one of Billy’s rough hands clutched in both of hers. “I read a chapter book with Mommy and she only had to help me with two words, Mister H!”

“That’s awesome!” he says, unable to keep himself from beaming down at her. “Did Mrs. Diaz help you get a library card?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Maybe your uncle can help you, then,” he says brightly, neatly side-stepping anymore conversation with the boy – the man, god, Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone more of a man – who can apparently still make his heart race, even ten years since he’d last saw him.

In the doorway, he spots Marcy Roberts holding her little brother’s hand. “Morning Marcy. And good morning, Martin.”

“Morning, Mr. Harrington!”

---

“Alright, Lulu, it’s almost time for your class to start,” Billy says, tucking her too-long bangs behind her ears. “Mom will be back to pick you up, okay?”

For the first time, some of Lulu’s uncertainty shows through. “You’re still gonna be here, right? You aren’t going home?”

Billy pauses. Fuck, this kid’s dad has done a number on her.

Justin was hardly ever around anyway, but he’d just packed up and left in the middle of the night – Billy doesn’t even know the last time he bothered to talk to her on the phone. Lulu’s gotten upset when she and Max had to say goodbye to Billy in the past, but she’s never acted this insecure with him. “I’m home now, Lulu,” he says, crouching down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be there to say goodnight, okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees in a tiny voice that steals his whole fuckin’ heart away.

“Who’s my girl?” he asks in a whisper, tugging gently on the end of her ponytail.

Her face brightens. “I am.”

“The best, Lulu.” He winks and she giggles. “Be good, okay?”

“Kay!”

He stands to his full height and Harrington’s eyes accidentally meet his. There’s still a small smile lingering around the soft shape of his mouth and as soon as he looks into those big brown eyes, Steve looks away. Billy bites the inside of his cheek, resists his automatic urge to say something spiteful, something that will get those eyes back on him.

He would like to be able say that it’s because New Billy knows better. But it’s really because he already knows from experience that it won’t do anything but make Steve that much colder. He wants fire, and all that’s there for him is ice.

He leans against the wall right outside the classroom door and…just listens.

Listens to Steve speaking, his sweet patient drawl used for the children in his classroom. “Alright let’s take attendance and then I want to hear all about what you did this weekend, class. Evan Adams?” He stays there, listening with eyes closed, until he hears, “Lauren van Haut?”

“Here!”

Billy shakes himself, pushing away from the wall. No sense mooning over a straight boy who thinks he’s lower than dirt.

TBC

[jayus-fandom-writer]

Syrup and Pancakes. A Destiel and Sabriel Fanfic

Story summery:the two teen Winchester brothers have an unplanned sleepover with their angel friend. Then someone unexpected comes to see Sam.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Unless you die from being smothered by this fluffy fluff :)

Dean wakes up on the far side of his large bed. He looks around confused and sees Cas, still fast asleep, on the other side facing away from him. He then remembers that they had been just hanging out and looking through random posts Cas had made on his new phone. Dean's memory is confirmed by seeing the phone, buried slightly under the covers. They both must've fallen asleep. Dean smiles a bit. He's going to need explain why Cas is still over. Dean looks over at Cas. He's sleeping peacefully. A little TOO peacefully. Dean quietly gets up and puts a thick blanket on the carpet beside the bed. He then jumps into the bed and shoves Cas into the blanket. "Hey Cas wake up!" Cas yells as he falls off the bed, almost missing the blanket as he struggles to catch himself. "Dean what-" Cas looks up slightly angrilly at Dean. Dean hangs his head over the side of the bed, giving him big puppy dog eyes. Cas's gaze softens and he laughs. "Ok so who's gonna explain this to Sam?" Dean shrugs right as Sam enters the room, attracted by the noise. "Hey Dean you good? I heard a crash-" his gaze falls on Cas who violently is trying to get up while punching Dean at the same time. "Ah ok nevermind carry on." Sam smirks and starts to walk to the kitchen. "Sam- No it's not like that...- you son of a bitch!" Dean scrambles out of the bed, blocking Cas's punches while pulling him along.

"Ok," Sam says as Dean and Cas crash into the kitchen, "what do you two want for breakfast? Pancakes sound good?" Dean looks at Cas and they both turn back to look at Sam, voicing their agreement to the proposal. Sam's phone suddenly rings. "Hey what's up?" Sam's automatic answer causes Dean and Cas to stop fighting, interested in who this person is. "Oh ok yeah I'll be over in a second." Sam flips the phone closed and turns to Sam and Dean. "Gabriel wanted me to go help them plant their new garden-" Dean looks at Sam with a smirk. "Oh yeah that's fine have fun with your date, Sammy!" Sam rolls his eyes. Then grabs his keys. As he heads out the door he looks back. "You two can make the pancakes if you're careful. I think I'll be back in the afternoon sometime." And he shuts the door.

Dean and Cas look at each other, then at the cookbook in front of them. "A'right I think I'm the better cook out of the two of us..." Cas gives Dean a hurt look and walks over to the cabinet, pulling out the flour, sugar, baking power, and salt. He also pulls out sour cream from the fridge. Dean watches this quietly but when Cas pulls out a head of lettuce he sighs and brings the book over to Cas. "Ok fine maybe we're both pretty bad cooks but where are you seeing sour cream and lettuce?" Cas smiles a bit and puts back the strange ingredients. "You were right about the other stuff though. Here come look at the recipe real quick." Cas gives a small laugh and looks over. Sure enough, the dry ingredients had been guessed by Cas perfectly. Dean pulls out the eggs and milk and the two begin trying to work around and with each other. Dean thought Cas got a bit too close while he was mixing and flung a full cup of flour at him. Cas immediately let out a few dozen coughs while Dean, only mildly concerned, laughed at his white face. As the flour was flying around the room Cas shoots Dean a look of betrayal. As he tried to rappidly recover his dignity he tried to look as angry as possible. But seeing Dean's laughing face, also covered in flour, cracked a grin instead. Neither of them had realised how much time had passed. But Dean suddenly stopped laughing and instead tried to regain any self control he had ever had. Cas looks over to see a dirt-covered Sam smiling at them. "And you both claim you aren't a couple." Sam then took his leave of the two, walking to the bathroom, to take a shower no doubt, leaving Dean yelling a few choice remarks at him. The two then finish the pancakes with no further food battle.

After a short good natured argument the two decide Cas should be the one to fry the pancakes since Dean had had the honor of stirring the mixture. Cas cooked up beautifully golden pancakes and tossed them on the plates lying on the counter ready for their golden burden. Dean sighed and huged Cas, putting his chin on Cas's shoulder. Cas didn't seem to object so Dean watched him flip the rest of the pancakes in silent admiration.

Once all the pancakes were cooked Dean yelled to Sam about their completion. Sam soon came out from his room saying "oh yum people always say food is better when it's made with love." Dean imediently punched his brother's arm, a glaring look in his eyes. But then he simply laughed and muttered "bitch" under his breath. Sam returned the playful insult quickly with a louder "jerk!" Accompanied with a twinkle in his eye. Then all three sat down to eat their food. Sam complimented both boys many times saying that "the pancakes are very good, much better than your attempt at muffins last week!"

After the pancakes were devoured Sam headed back to his room, leaving the two friends alone. Soon the sound of his music could be heard faintly playing from his bedroom. "Geeze only Sam would listen to Taylor Swift and enjoy it." Dean remarked, turning to Cas. Cas laughed and said "hey you listen to her music on repeat all the time when you're in the car." Dean's eyes widened "what- who told you that??" Cas's expression turned into a straight face as he remarked gravely "Sam let me look through your 'roadtrip' CD's and you have 4 Taylor Swift albums."

"Well at least I... Uh..." Dean's comeback falls short but he quickly recovered himself, "at least I got all the syrup off my lips. Bruh, they look like they're covered with the stuff." Dean then quickly held Cas's face with both hands and gently kissed Cas's lips. He then realised what he's done and quickly dropped his hands and backed away quickly saying, "Damnit Cas I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He took the plates from the table and quickly moved away to wash them in the sink. He couldn't even look at Cas's face. But he also licked his lips just slightly once he's turned away from Cas. They're sweet with syrup. It's how he always imagined Cas's lips to taste.

Dean became so absorbed into his thoughts and dishwashing that he hardly noticed Cas getting up. He hasn't said a word but he walked over to Dean and looked up slightly. Dean is a good 3 or 4 inches taller so he has no choice. Dean hardly noticed Cas's efforts to get his attention, or at least was trying to ignore them. Cas turned off the water and grabed Dean's shoulders, forcing him to look directly at him. Dean's green eyes reflect his worry. He didn't want their friendship to end over a dumb kiss. "Cas..." But Cas cut in. "Dean it's ok. But just tell me one thing." Dean, slightly confused, asked what he wanted to know. "Did you like how my lips tasted?" Dean couldn't help but laugh a bit. But he replied back with only a hint of a smile, "Yeah Cas... I'm I did..." He scratched his head, worried about what Cas will say. Cas smiled. "Well you can kiss them again. Until you get all the syrup off at least. I don't think they'll taste as good after it's gone." He then leaned into a very surprised Dean and kissed him. Dean held Cas up to him gently, just trying to figure out if he's really there in front of him, TELLING Dean to kiss him. As Cas wraped his arms around his neck Dean could tell it was real this time. He's not just imagining it now. By this time the syrup's completely gone from both lips but they didn't care. They broke apart, each slightly out of breath. Cas snuggled his head under chin. Dean in turn held Cas more tightly. It's at that moment Dean looked over at the hallway and saw Sam standing there, leaning against the frame. The look of pure glee on his face told plainly that he witnessed that entire episode and he's pleased with his work. He slowly walked back to his room, laughing on the inside.

back inside his room he grabbed his phone and pulled up Gabriel's contact. 'Hey Gabe' he sent the message and then quickly typed and sent 'Dean and Cas finally kissed in the kitchen. All it took was some syrup. You were right babe.' Sam sent the message but then quickly realised the typo. "SHIT." Sam said out loud to himself. '*Gabe* sorry autocorrect is the pits isn't it?' but before he has time to send it a new message appears. Sam opened it and it read 'haha I told you so. they just needed that final nudge to get it going. and yeah I know babe lol I'll come over in a few minutes if you want to try it too? :)' Sam almost choked. He loved Gabriel but never expected him to actually like him back! 'wait what? Really?' Sam quickly replied back. 'REALLY. Not joking. I'm already in the car.'

'You dumbass bitch... What am I gonna tell Dean? And Cas??'

'idk you figure that out lol. I'll be there in about 4 minutes.'

'ok I'll get out the syrup.' Sam hopped out of his bed and walked back into the kitchen. Dean was pouring orange juice into a glass. Cas was clearing the table. "Oh hey Sam" Dean's eyes begged Sam not to mention seeing what just went down. Sam simply ignored the look, and chuckling slightly said quietly, "Hey Cas can you give me the syrup?" Cas, with a confused look at Dean, handed the syrup to Sam. "Hey wait- is that Gabriel's car out front?" Dean remarked, looking out the window. It was more of a statement then a question. Sam looked out. "Oh yeah it is... Huh wonder why they're here..." Dean burst out laughing. "Dude-" he then recovered himself. "Ok good luck." He grabbed Cas's hand lightly and lead him back to the TV room couch to watch some stupid old movie they had picked out. Sam brought the syrup to his room and sat on the bed. Is this really happening? Dean and Cas FINALLY get together and Gabriel is coming to see him to- to KISS him? WHAT? The knock at the door brought him to realize that this really is real life. It's actually happening. He realised this as he quickly hurried over to the door to let Gabriel in.

[aroworlds]

Fiction: The Pride Conspiracy, Part Two

December isn't the best time of year for a trans aromantic like Rowan Ross, although—unlike his relatives—his co-workers probably won't give him gift cards to women's clothing shops. How does he explain to cis people that while golf balls don't trigger his dysphoria, he wants to be seen as more than a masculine stereotype? Nonetheless, he thinks he has this teeth-gritted endurance thing figured out: cissexism means he needn't fear his relatives asking him about dating, and he has the perfect idea for Melanie in the office gift exchange. He can survive gifts and kin, right? Isn't playing along with expectation better than enduring unexpected consequences?

Rowan, however, isn't the only aromantic in the office planning to surprise a co-worker.

To survive the onslaught of ribbon and cellophane, Rowan's going to have to get comfortable with embracing the unknown.

Contains: A trans allo-frayro trying to grit his teeth through the holidays, scheming aro co-workers, a whole lot of cross-stitch, another moment of aromantic discovery, and many, many mugs.

Content Advisory: A story that focuses on some of the ways Western gift-giving culture enables cissexism and a rigid gender binary, taking place in the context of commercialised, secular-but-with-very-Christian-underpinnings Christmas. Please expect many references to said holiday in an office where Damien hasn't figured out how to run a gift exchange without subjecting everyone to Santa, along with characters who have work to do in recognising that not everybody celebrates Christmas.

There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual" and a passing reference to allo-aro antagonism, but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with and attitudes towards romance and romantic attraction as a frayromantic. Please also expect casual references to amatonormativity and other shapes of cissexism.

This section contains multiple depictions of platonic physical intimacy.

Length: 4, 789 words (part two of two).

I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!

On the last working day of the year, Rowan staggers into the office holding a plate of homemade shortbread—the top layer of plastic wrap bearing the Sharpie-written words “NOT FOR HOUSEMATES BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING BISCUITS”, his mood sour. On the one hand, he’s free until January (although he’ll prefer that circumstance more should this be a paid break). On the other hand, Christmas and its family awfulness tag-team with the heat to curse him with mind-racing, restless 4 AM wakefulness.

He chose right. Didn’t he?

In six days, he’ll have survived the family dinner and his housemates will be with their people or travelling for the holiday. He can bag up his presents for their customary donating, buy something online and spend the day baking food he doesn’t have to share or hide.

Christmas will be an exercise in endurance, but it’s a known terrible. Better to suffer one day of hell and leave than to poke the hydra in each of its eyes and allow it, enraged, to hunt him across the earth. Right?

“Rowan!” Melanie greets him at the door, today wearing a silky blouse with a poinsettia print, a pendant shaped like a miniature tree bauble, and stocking-shaped earrings of the heavy, dangly kind. A Santa hat trimmed with silver sequins and a large golden bell sits atop her short hair. “Merry Christmas!”

“Uh … back at you?”

“You didn’t wear anything Christmassy!” Melanie flutters her hands at him: she painted her glossy crimson nails with white and green stripes like the fancier sort of candy cane. “Can’t you get anything in your size?”

“No...” Rowan glances at his usual outfit: dress shoes, jeans black enough to resemble slacks on forgot-to-do-laundry days, navy shirt.  

Couldn’t he have worn his cherry-red Docs?  

Her suggestion gives him a convenient out, but isn’t he trying to be honest about his feelings? “I didn’t look. Christmas … isn’t that exciting when you’re enduring family.” He barks a laugh, hoping Melanie understands. “At least being trans, nobody asks me if I’m dating anyone or when I’m going to bring someone home to meet the family, because they don’t want to think about trans people in a relationship.” He steps sideways, hoping to navigate around her, put his plate down and move the conversation towards something less fraught. “I made shortbread. Do you like shortbread?”

He stiffens, trying not to panic, when Melanie envelops him in a bear hug, smushing Rowan’s chest and one arm against her necklace. “You spend Christmas with your family?”

“Don’t most people who celebrate it?” He shuffles out of her embrace to slide his cling-filmed plate onto Shelby’s desk beside a plastic container of pizza scrolls. He slips the ingredients card from his jeans pocket, straightens the creases and rests it by the plate. “Uh … is cling-film better or worse for the environment than biscuits in a freezer bag? I had a set of clip-seal containers, but my housemates left me two condiment-sized ones in the cupboard. I could use a bit of plastic or defrost frozen stir fry, except I didn’t know what I’d put that in if I used the stir fry container for the shortbread...”

Rowan realises he’s rambling and presses his lips together before he rants on how his containers must be growing five types of mould in the bottom of Matt’s backpack.

“Happy Holidays, everyone!” Shelby, both arms burdened by plastic cake containers, enters wearing a red T-shirt with the legend “All I Want for Christmas Is a Unicorn”, a glittery ribbon tied around the end of her braid. Only twice before has he seen her without a blazer. “Mel! Your earrings! Millers?”

Rowan swallows a laugh and, freed from awkwardness, heads for the relative comfort of his desk.

A party day, he soon realises, possesses a distressing lack of work. He acquires plates and spoons from the kitchenette, he works on a few photos from last week, he sorts his emails. He notices Melanie pulling Damien aside to talk about something that requires the waving of candy-cane fingernails, but, before he can start to wonder, the volunteer ropes him into a conversation about a loving family with unusual pavlova-eating habits. Shelby saves him from that oddity only to tell the story of her family’s chipping in to get her granddaughter a four-hundred-dollar dollhouse. “My parents wouldn’t have spent that much on a toy! How can anyone charge four hundred dollars for plastic?”

That seems like a good time to head over to the food table.

Shelby does make a good chocolate cake.

“Rowan.” Damien heads towards him, his approach signalled by a trailing, bell-ringing Melanie. “A minute?”

Nothing good has ever been heralded by this question. Nothing.

Rowan nods and follows them over to the whiteboard, standing in front of the List.

“Do you,” Damien says, at least doing the decent thing of asking straight out, “need somewhere to go for Christmas?”

Oh, god. What provoked this horror? Melanie?

Why...?

“We’d non-romantically love to have you.” Melanie’s smile beams as bright as her nails—her lips a close match for their glossy crimson basecoat. “Me and my daughter and her partner, I mean—not me and Damien together. It won’t be anything fancy, but you’re welcome to come.”

“My wife said my telling her about being recipro makes so much sense, and she’d like to ask questions of someone who actually knows things.” Damien nods, his holiday cheer demonstrated in the absence of a tie, rolled-up shirtsleeves and reflectively-shiny shoes. “And I make beer batter fritters.”

Never has Rowan heard Damien speak in aromantic-identity terms with that much casual fluidity, and he would smile but for two co-workers waiting, expectantly, for his answer.

How does he express appreciation for their kindness while explaining that he can’t not go home for Christmas?

A few moments pass before Rowan’s lips and tongue produce sounds that aren’t “I”, “uh” and “I … uh”. “Thanks? But … well, I’d be fine being alone on Christmas and I'm not doing that because … that’d be bad, so... And, you know, family? And I want to see my dog? So ... thanks, but...”

“But you’re one of us,” Melanie says with unusual solemnity, resting a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Just like Damien’s now one of—wait, we need to get you a mug! Why didn’t we get Damien a mug?”

“Well, actually...” Rowan, thanking the Aro Gods for Melanie’s willingness to head down any conversational tangent, darts towards his desk and satchel, the latter housing a heavy tissue-wrapped box. Pinkish-red, of course. “Here. Have a mug.”

“Oh! You should have told me!” Melanie’s lips tremble as she and Damien follow him back across the room. “I would have gotten a mug with you!”

Rowan rests the box on his lap, startled. Why didn’t he think to tell Melanie that he bought Damien a mug? (How else does one welcome another into aromantic kinship?) Why didn’t he wait until Damien was busy and order a mug with Melanie, instead of buying one on his phone on the train home from work?

Rowan owns skill in list-making, cross-stitch, baking, fixing other people’s photos and designing his own leaflets. He’s quietly proud of the many arts in which he dabbles with varying degrees of success. He’s mastered, too, survival on the fringes of other people’s lives, survival in a world where few are worth trusting. That ability though, makes him a man too comfortable in isolation. It makes him, in ways that have nothing to do with allosexual frayromanticism beyond his living in an aromantic-antagonistic world, a man who doesn’t know how to welcome other people into the house behind his five-metre fence.

He keeps everyone at arm’s length, even when—perhaps especially when—he plies his crafts for their benefit.

Does everyone experience acute flashes of insight at inconvenient times, the irrevocable sense that their personhood is one bewildering state of immeasurably fucked up?

“I’m sorry. Really.” He passes the mug to Damien, looking at Melanie. “I’m used to doing things on my own. I should have thought, but I didn’t.”

“We do realise that,” Damien says, tearing both wrapping paper and the box lid in a sharp tug. “You got the green-stripe one—oh, wait, it’s got both?” His hands render the mug’s size almost laughable, but Rowan couldn’t find soup-sized variants from a store willing to custom print aromantic flags on crockery. “Mel, there’s both. The recipromantic-only one and the shared one. Thank you!”

Is Rowan imagining that hint of passive-aggression? “You realise...?”

“That you’re independent, that’d you’d rather suffer alone than risk asking for help, even when it causes problems for you. That you’re only comfortable with people when you’re in a position of knowledge or authority. We learnt early on that you work best when we get out of your way.” Damien sets the mug on the desk with a soft clink. “I’m not completely useless in my job, so try harder to stop rolling your eyes over my photos.”

“They’re terrible,” Melanie says, squeezing Rowan’s forearm—apparently forgiven. “You know that, right?”

“The next person to say they can do better has to prove it—”

“My dog photos prove it!”

“At an event! Not in your backyard!”

For a reason likely tied up in internalised ableism, Rowan thought anxiety his designated, annoyance-causing personality failing. His tendency to overreact, freak out, let things get to him; his tendency to shaking hands and rambling incoherence. He didn’t consider that, in the company of people more inclined to decency and less inclined to avoid criticism on deadnaming and cissexism by casting him as the problem, they may find something else frustrating or difficult.

“Is this...” Rowan halts, thinking better of it, before he says the words “being fired just before Christmas”. Even he doubts Damien capable of inviting someone to join him for the holiday only to retaliate with a firing on Rowan’s refusal, although logic doesn’t still his hands. What’s the good of logic if my anxiety still ignores it? “What is this?”

Damien shrugs, tapping a finger against his new mug. “Yearly performance evaluation, maybe? Shame that I’ll have to write it down. I’d rather just call this sort—”

“What’d you say on mine?” Melanie blurts, clapping her hands.

Damien raises both eyebrows. “As if I’d answer that sober!” He shakes his head; Melanie trills her laughter. “We realise that there’s reasons, Rowan. It isn’t a real problem for us, but it may be one for you. If you find yourself in the company of a therapist at some point, consider mentioning it?”

Reining in Melanie wasn’t the reason Damien asked her to work with Rowan, he realises in yet another dizzying, revelatory moment, but that isn’t the cause of Rowan’s spluttering. “If? You think it’s only if? I’d have more aro shit on my desk if I weren’t paying a psychiatrist and a psychologist!” He sighs and nods. “January. I see them January.”

“I don’t like to assume.” Damien shrugs again; Rowan guesses it his attempt at conveying casualness. “Given that this isn’t quite the … er, situation for this conversation, I should—”

“I’m fine,” Rowan says, thinking Melanie’s heedless interrupting a contagious quality. “Really. It’s good. Like actually...” He doesn’t know how to voice this feeling that, for the first time in his life, someone has voiced a critique that doesn’t feel like he’s being disdained or unravelled. “Melanie … again, I’m sorry.” He thinks the time right for another distraction and grabs the second parcel from his bag—tissue paper tied with strands of aro-coloured embroidery floss. “Here. I’ve been working on this. I got your name.”

Melanie lunges for the parcel, struggling to untie the knot with her long fingernails until Shelby—was she close by?—hands over a pair of scissors. Blades click shut; Melanie pulls away the paper.

Twenty square embroidered patches in the purples and greens of many aro-ace and aromantic pride flags cascade from Melanie’s hands onto the worn carpet.

Melanie has always been given to laughter, but the way she bends over, resting her elbows on her knees as though she can’t hold herself up, has Rowan fearing that he’s given her a heart attack via pride patches.

“Aro-ace! Are these all of them?” She draws a shaking breath and carefully kneels, gathering patches. “I didn’t know there were this many!”

“Aro and aro-ace. The ones I know about, anyway. There’s probably a few I don’t.”

“Did you make all these?” Shelby asks. “You should sell them!”

Rowan considers explaining why he’ll never make even minimum wage selling hand-embroidered patches in aro pride flag colours, but Melanie’s pulling him into another grasping hug has him scarce able to breathe, never mind speak. He doesn’t know for how long Melanie smothers him, just that she, like an eventual retreating tide, steps back, leaving Rowan bewildered and giddy. Perhaps this is too much?

“You’re a liar, and this must have taken forever, and you shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you sew!” Melanie shakes her head, shuffling through the patches. “There’s the aro-ace flag with blue and orange, and a combined one, and one without black stripes—oh, thank you!”

Rowan shrugs, relieved that she seems happy. “Do you have something to put them on?”

“I have a coat. I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!” Melanie grins, shaking her head, before leaning over to tap Damien on the forearm. “Should the rest of us swap gifts now?”

Damien settles himself down on the closest chair. “Good idea. Do you want to—”

“We’re doing Secret Santa now!” Melanie stands on her tiptoes, waving the hand not clutching a handful of patches. “Find your person and give your gift, and then come here and show me what you got! Rowan made me aro-ace patches! All the aro-ace patches!”

“You know your evaluation says ‘needs to stop interrupt—’”

“Quickly, because Damien’s nattering on about performance evaluations!”

Damien sighs, shakes his head and leans back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Lord give me—is that mould up there?”

“Probably,” Rowan says, hoping that he doesn’t look like a man expecting to open a set of golf balls. Did Shelby get him and lie about Melanie? Does that explain the voice recording? “Does the janitor have a step ladder? It’d be easier to tell if we got up close.”

“She does, because of the lighting.” Damien shakes his head. “Remind me first week back to get someone in to look at that. Or to write it on the whiteboard before we leave.” He reaches inside his left trouser pocket, removes a small card-sized parcel held between thumb and pointer finger, and flips it onto Rowan’s lap with surprising deftness. “I think this will be appropriate? While I didn’t know what you planned for Melanie, I saw you working on the train one evening. You had earbuds in and were too busy looking at your hands to notice, but I guessed then you’d made your bag’s patches.”

“It’s hard to cross-stitch on a moving train,” Rowan says by way of apology, a shade confused: what gift needs this explanation? “Hard to cross-stitch well. Not so hard if you don’t care about neatness.” He peels back the tape—Damien wrapped the card the way he presses his suits, the edges inhumanly crisp—and finds a gift card for his local sewing store. Rowan stares, drops the card on his lap and slides his hands under his legs, doubtful he can say anything comprehensible past this isn’t a gift pack of golf balls.

“That’s what you got him? A gift card?” Melanie shakes her head and pokes Damien in the shoulder with startling vehemence; only Damien’s size and his feet, firmly planted on the ground, keep him from falling. “Did you put any thought into that? I don’t like to be that oldie—” She stops, scowling: Rowan can’t hold back his spluttering laughter. “As I was saying, gift cards are the laziest way to—Rowan’s laughing at me, isn’t he?”

Damien tucks his hands behind his head and leans further back in his chair, grinning up at the popcorn ceiling.

Moments—in which Shelby gives Damien a six pack of fancy-looking artisanal beer—pass before Rowan’s ribcage resumes its regular pattern of movement. Finally, he manages to rasp an explanation: “Buying a gift card for a department store? Impersonal, but okay if they shop there. Buying a gift card for a trans man at a clothing shop where every tag has woman on the label? Hateful, unless you know he wants it. Buying a gift card related to someone’s interests so they can pick what they want? Good. And I need fabric, so … thank you.”

“Did someone get you a Millers gift card?” Melanie asks, her hands raised to cover her mouth. “That’s horrible!”

“That’s Aunt Laura,” Rowan mutters. Melanie’s expression of horror, Damien’s surprising evaluation and the wonder of a good, useful present leaves him inclined to truth: “That’s the most considerate gift I’ll get. One with thought that isn’t ‘outright cissexism’ or ‘you’re a man so we’ll ignore your personality to give you the most generically-male of generically-male items’.” He places the gift card and paper on his desk before nodding at Damien, who continues his overgrown Cheshire Cat impression. “Really, thank you.”

Even though Rowan isn’t standing atop his desk to blather about names, the room falls into an uncomfortable quiet.

Shouldn’t someone rustle some wrapping paper? Bite into a biscuit? Thank somebody for their gift? Why aren’t they making noise?

Melanie breaks into a broad smile, threading her fingers together like a self-congratulatory cartoon villain. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Rowan’s body, ever alert to strangeness in the people around him, stiffens long before his brain concurs that this change in conversational direction is at minimum odd and veering towards confronting with a high likelihood of I’m so not going to like it.

Damien jerks upright, chair creaking. “Didn’t we talk about how to do this—”

“His aunt gave him a Millers gift card!” Melanie grabs Shelby by the arm and drags her towards the meeting room like an illegal firework gone out of control.

Damien isn’t much an arbiter of this office’s brand of chaos, but he’s the closest thing to a pillar of stability inside this mouse-scented bewilderment and therefore the person at which Rowan directs his questioning: “What...?”

“You know how Melanie gets all enthusiastic?” Damien runs both hands through his already-mussed hair. “She comes up with plans and you can’t so much stop her as guide her in the safest direction and hope you’re alive come the landing?”

Does Damien know that is the worst answer anyone can give to a man with more than one anxiety disorder? At least short of pronouncements like “we volunteered you to give year 12 biology students a seminar on recessive genes and you’re starting right now”? Wasn’t that something to do with the monk who grew beans? Hendel? Mendel? Or did he just grow beans at a monastery for some reason? Or was it peas?

“What...?” Rowan croaks, staring at the dark meeting room like a man waiting to face a starving tyrannosaurus.

“She thought we should demonstrate our acceptance of you, after our failures in this. And then she realised Christmas isn’t a great time of year for you, which made her even more … uh, enthusiastic. I made her promise she’d do this after everyone else left, but...”

Melanie staggers out of the meeting room with a large basket held in both hands, a basket covered with glinting cellophane and decorated with a mix of blue and green ribbons.

Shelby trails after her, clasping another pair of scissors.

Rowan will never understand, never mind be able to explain, the thought processes leading to his diving off his chair for the sanctuary underneath his desk—just that one moment he’s sitting on his chair and the next he’s crouching beside computer cables and a lid from someone’s Pikachu lunch box. Some primeval sense of cave as safety, perhaps … but didn’t prehistoric humanity fear cave bears and cave lions? Aren’t large, bright spaces, with visibility and room to run, safer than small, dark places concealing unknowable predators? What about drought, then? Or deserts? Are there any safe places, really...?

Melanie holds no respect for the ancient tenets of let the hiding man hide undisturbed until he’s ready to stop hiding, but she does rest the basket on the ground at the entrance of Rowan’s desk-cave, blocking legs and chairs from sight. “Merry Christmas,” she warbles from behind the mountain of cellophane and wicker. “We hope there’s something there that you like!”

“Happy Holidays!” Shelby echoes, followed by a few more rounds from the rest of the office. “Do you want scissors? Melanie wraps things like she’s paid to use sticky tape by the metre.”

“We only have cheap tape in the office! It won’t stick unless you use heaps!” A thunking sound echoes from above Rowan’s head, and then Melanie’s candy-striped hand reaches around the leg of his desk, offering Shelby’s scissors. “Here. You’ll ... probably need them.”

There’s something to be said for this workplace’s willingness to treat escapades atop and beneath office furniture as normal, Rowan thinks. Breathe. “Than—uh—thanks.” He takes the scissors, staring at the back of shining cellophane; a miscellany of shapes wrapped in green paper sit within like an aromantic dragon’s treasure hoard.

“Damien, can you make them give us better tape next year?”

“We can have good tape if we stop spending the stationery money on good coffee and your fancy teas?”

“The tape’s fine,” Melanie announces before changing the subject: “Rowan? Are you opening anything? You have to tell us what you’re opening if you’re going to do it down there. Oh, do be careful—I think Liam used to shove his chewing gum under the table.”

Rowan shudders, but better his hair brushing old chewing gum over seeing his gift-opening become the focus of everyone’s attention! He draws a steadying breath, tells himself delay won’t help and slits the cellophane until he can draw out a wrapped box, one suspiciously weighty. At least fifty pieces of tape fasten the flaps on each end; Rowan promises himself that he’ll wrap everything in string and tea towels from now on before ripping into the paper. A mug with five horizontal bands wrapped around its body, the trans flag fading into the aro flag—blue into green, pink into green, white unchanged, pink into grey, blue into black.

Shelby, he thinks in disbelief, the non-existent golf balls making their appearance inside his throat. He rests the mug in his lap before reaching through the cellophane with shaking, sweating hands for another box. Another box with the same dimensions and weight...

“Oh, god,” he whispers.

His co-workers got him a basket of pride mugs for Christmas.

Melanie breaks into ringing laughter.

He needs a moment to find his voice, a moment in which he unwraps a mug with a gradient allo-aro design and another with the aromantic flag on one side and the bisexual flag on the other. “Did you  … did you … uh, get me any coffee to go with all my mugs?”

“It’s on the bottom!” Melanie trills. “And it isn’t just mugs!”

“Mostly mugs,” Damien says.

After another couple of minutes, a gradient frayromantic and a frayromantic-and-allo-aro mug join the collection precariously balanced on Rowan’s thighs. He sighs in relief when the next item in the basket feels soft, flat and light, something rustling underneath the wrapping paper, but a second lot of golf balls settle in his throat when he spots the pink and blue stripes, the drape of fabric: a trans pride flag.  

He can’t swallow, can’t lessen the burn in his eyes or ease the stiffness in his jaw and neck; his fingers fight to tear, peel and grasp. Bewildered to the point of dizziness, he finds an aromantic flag with its glorious green stripes, a frayromantic-and-bisexual mug and the expensive coffee Rowan permits himself on special occasions.  

He scoops wrapping paper and boxes back into the basket before hugging his clinking pile of mugs and flags.

Inchoate feeling abounds: a tangle, a knot of emotion with trailing threads of pleasure and overwhelm, surprise and gratitude, guilt and shame ... and something like the shock of being slapped across the face. They shouldn’t have done this! He shouldn’t be like this! Why is this too much? Why can’t he say “thank you” and express a normal, sensible gratitude for these people doing what Rowan’s family can’t ... instead of struggling with the feeling that Rowan, ungrateful and demanding, doesn’t deserve anything from people who have provoked his annoyance, frustration and alienation?

Mugs. Mugs and flags.

Why does something this wondrous have to hurt so much?

After a few moments, the only sound from him the chink of shifting crockery, someone moves the basket. Melanie sits on the floor and wriggles herself backwards underneath the table, grunting, to sit beside him. For once, she doesn’t speak; she rests a hand around his shoulder and lets him be a shivering mass of man clasping mugs.

Finally, Rowan’s rasping, croaking voice manages a few words: “Is this why Shelby recorded me ... talking about my identities?”

“I told you he thought it was suspicious!” Shelby crawls to Rowan’s other side, her braid trailing over the carpet. “Mel said you’d think it was just me being old—no, nobody does that!” She clasps his forearm, squeezing like a vice on wood. “Mel tried seeing if you’ve got a … all those accounts that aren’t Facebook, where you might say what you are? But she couldn’t find you, so I had my granddaughter show me how to record you. We knew we wouldn’t remember if you just said them.”

“I don’t know all the flags yet,” Melanie says in apologetic tones. “And I thought if I made the others check, they’d learn more about us!”

Part of Rowan feels a habitual spike of terror at the thought of offline people finding his social media accounts; part of him feels a quiet pride at Melanie’s using him to educate others in aromanticism. Most of him, fearing a blubbering breakdown, clings to the lifeline of asking questions: “And why Damien started that whole conversation?”

“We had to know where your mug seller was.” Damien bends down to peer underneath the desk and, at Melanie’s brow-arched stare, adds: “I’m not getting under there! You’ll have to call the SES to cut me out!”

Rowan nods and draws a breath. “I … I...”

“You’re very welcome.” Shelby squeezes his arm again. “Can I have your shortbread recipe? They’re good!”

“Yeah. Bag. Front pocket, left-hand side. People ask, so...” Rowan tries for another slow inhale. It’s supposed to help. Supposed.  

His family expects gratitude said clearly and directly, even when undeserving; they’ll never take emotional speechlessness as its shorthand. They want the formula followed, interactions never deviating from the same narrow structure: gift given, thanks provided, everything right in their world where it’s the thought that counts justifies disrespect of another’s personhood. They avoid messiness and honesty; they fear navigating and acknowledging mistakes and missteps.

They won’t see him as a man, or understand the pain they cause in believing his masculinity something he can put aside for their comfort, because they fear a world with unpredictability and fluidity.

Mum and Dad will never conspire to give him a gift like this. They’ll never want to get to know Rowan well enough to try. They’ll never put his needs ahead of their comfort. They’ll never speak of challenges or difficulties with Damien’s kind casualness. They’ll never want to acknowledge their failures. They’ll never give him an awkward, chaotic Christmas that veers from their notions of how things are supposed to be.

Does he want to endure their narrowness, now that he knows what better looks like?

Does he want to endure their truth that Rowan Ross isn’t a real man to them—and won’t be a real person until he remembers his deadname and the stereotypical trappings of the gender presumed to accompany it?

Or does he want to expect and get something else?

Maybe he doesn’t want a world so predictable his erasure becomes acceptable collateral damage for sticking to the pattern.

Maybe, despite his anxiety, he wants a world where people can surprise him.

“Melanie? Damien?” Rowan, shaking, pokes his head out from underneath the desk. “Can I … can I still spend Christmas with one of you?”

[bthenoise]

Quaran-Dine & Chill: Here are 12 Homemade Food Recipes From Some Of Your Favorite Bands

Look, we get it: You’re bored. You’re stuck at home with nothing to do and to top it all off you’re absolutely starving with no idea what to make except for a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. 

Thankfully, we knew this would happen so we reached out to some amazing artists to see if they had any recipes to help us all get through this never-ending period of social distancing. 

Submitting for a feature we like to call “Quaran-Dine & Chill,” bands like Mayday Parade, The Used, August Burns Red, Atreyu, Periphery, New Found Glory and more have all pitched in some of their most favorite recipes to make from home. 

To check out how to create Groovy Toast, cook some of Herbie’s Homemade Chicken Taquitos or even put together some Veggie Pasta with Vegan Ass White Sauce, be sure to look below. Afterward, remember, before making anything to eat, WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS!

Oh, and there’s also a special 35-song Quaran-Dine & Chill playlist at the end of all this. Listen to it as loud as you possibly can -- we hear it helps the food taste better. 

Enjoy! 

JAKE BUNDRICK - MAYDAY PARADE

JAKE’S OVERNIGHT OATS

Ingredients 1/2 cup oatmeal (any type will work but I personally like Old Fashioned or Rolled Oats) 1 cup water 1 scoop protein powder (It's not necessary by any means but I prefer French Vanilla from TrueNutrition) 3/4 cup of either frozen berries or fresh berries (strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, black berries... you can either add this now to soak overnight or wait until you're ready to eat and then add berries. It's up to you) 1 banana sliced 1 tablespoon of natural peanut butter

Instructions Mix oatmeal, water, protein and frozen berries together in a bowl or jar (frozen berries are optional). You could forego this and choose to add fresh berries later.

Cover and let sit in the fridge overnight or for a few hours -- your choice.

After soaking, add fresh berries if you haven't already. Then add bananas and peanut butter.

Enjoy.

MATT HALPERN - PERIPHERY

REALLY HEALTHY “CEREAL”

I love cereal but I don't want all the bad stuff associated with most cereals. So I came up with a healthy alternative. It's pretty simple.

Grab a bowl

Add Trader Joe's Go Raw Trek Mix

Slice up some strawberries and add them too

Throw on a couple blueberries

Add 1% milk

And there ya have it! Really hearty, really healthy, easy to make “cereal” that actually fills you up!

MATT GREINER - AUGUST BURNS RED

DEER CAMP BREAKFAST CASSEROLE 

Ingredients 18 eggs 2 cups of milk 1 cup cheddar cheese 1 lb bacon 1 lb loose sausage 1 ts salt 1 tb pepper 1 pack hash browns

Instructions Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

Brown sausage and bacon separately-drain

Pan fry hash browns until golden brown

Grease a 13” x 9” baking pan and line the bottom with hash browns

Add a layer of bacon

Add a layer of sausage

Whip the eggs in a large bowl, then add the mix, salt and pepper, mix well

Add the cheese to the eggs and mix again

Pour the egg mixture over the meat and hash browns

Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 25-30 minutes 

Remove foil and bake until the top of the casserole begins to brown. Then remove from the oven.

BRENT WALSH - I THE MIGHTY

B-LEE'S BREAKFAST FEAST

Ingredients Hash browns 2 eggs Onions Garlic Mushrooms Peppers Cheddar cheese Black pepper Salt Ketchup Valentina (black label, extra hot) hot sauce Olive oil

Instructions First, get the hash browns going in a frying pan with lots of oil. They take the longest. 

In a second pan, get all the veggies going adding garlic when everything else is almost done so that you don't burn the garlic.

When the hash browns are done, plate them and immediately add the cheese to taste. 

The veggies should be about done by this time so add those on top. 

Fry the eggs (I like mine over medium) in the original pan you cooked the hash browns in and add salt and pepper while they cook. 

I like to top it all off with some black label Valentina hot sauce and a little ketchup. 

Add a coffee and mimosa on the side and boom, you got yourself a good ol' quarantine breakfast feast.

MARK HOLCOMB - PERIPHERY

SRIRACHA TUNA SALAD

Take two cans of tuna, break it up in a mixing bowl, toss with two tablespoons of celery, half an onion and some chopped fresh parsley.

Add 1/3 cup of mayonnaise (or veganaise if you’re a tree-hugging hippy like me), 1 tablespoon mustard, and several tablespoons of Sriracha depending on how spicy you want it.

Top off with some ground pepper and lemon juice, to taste.

Also feel free to add half a diced apple if you like some sweetness and crunchy texture in there.

Delicious, healthy and super simple.

JEPHA - THE USED

GROOVY TOAST

Soak a cup of any kind of nut (almond, cashew etc..) overnight in water.

Next day, strain most of the water except for a little bit to help blend it.

Put soaked nuts in blender with a dash of lemon, a pinch of salt, pepper, two tablespoons of olive oil.

Blend until smooth.

Optional fun: slice something spicy like a jalapeño.

Add “Groovy cheese” to either toast or crackers.

Drizzle olive oil and lemon on top of “Groovy Toast” with a spicy, spicy jalapeño and let your mouth party like your stuck at home for the next month or so 🤙

CYRUS BOLOOKI - NEW FOUND GLORY

SHEPHERD’S PIE

Ingredients: Ground Beef (or turkey, or chicken, or any kind of meat for that matter) Onion, diced (optional) Frozen veggies (1 bag of pretty much anything you have, normally a carrot/corn/peas mix, but seriously, anything will do) Worcestershire Sauce (optional, but check the back of your cupboard because you probably have a bottle that’s been sitting there for years and is still good!) Potatoes (again, any kind of potatoes will do) Cheese (cheddar is the standard, but use what you have!)

Instructions: Cook your meat in a skillet, seasoning with salt and pepper and adding diced onion if you have while cooking.  

Cook/microwave your bag of frozen veggies and add directly into the meat and stir.

Now’s the time to find that Worcestershire sauce if you have it -- if not, don’t worry, this is awesome without it too!

Add a cup of cheese in there and also 1/2 cup of liquid (could be water, could be chicken/beef broth if you have). Stir to combine all ingredients and turn to low heat to keep warm.

Meanwhile, make mashed potatoes however you can (whether by hand or with a box) and when done layer these two things in an ovenproof dish — meat/veggie mix on bottom, mashed potatoes on top.

Toss cheese all over the top of that and throw it in the oven on medium heat for 20 minutes to melt the cheese.

Now, sit back, relax and enjoy your dish whether with family or all alone. It’s a full meal all in one, tastes even better the next day and you can even freeze it!

BRANDON SALLER - ATREYU

WINNER WINNER ISOLATION DINNER (Crispy Baked Chicken Thighs)

Ingredients Bone-in chicken thighs w/ skin Salt (coarse salt works best but any will work fine) Pepper Garlic powder Mixed herbs or Italian seasoning Desired veggie - Whatever you have (ie broccoli, green beans, asparagus, zucchini) Italian dressing (your favorite)

Instructions Preheat oven to 400º  

Pat dry chicken on both sides with a paper towel

Season both sides of chicken liberally. Especially the top. The key to this chicken is the well seasoned crispy skin.

Place on sheet pan and roast in oven for about 40 minutes. You are looking for the chicken to be cooked through and skin to be browned and crispy.

When chicken has about 20 minutes left, put marinated veggies on a sheet pan and roast until chicken is done.

When finished, let chicken rest for about 5 minutes as it just came out of a 40-minute fiery hell and will 100% burn your mouth.

ENJOY!

IRA GEORGE - MOVEMENTS

TACO SALAD

This is a very easy and fluid dish that you can make on your own with ease. Whether you are a vegetarian or vegan, you can make this fit your lifestyle.

Ingredients 1 bag of chopped romaine 1 can of black beans 1 frozen bag of white or brown rice 1 cup of frozen corn (thawed) Soyrizo (or any type of ground meat) 1/2 bell pepper 2 Roma tomatoes 1/3 yellow onion 1 avocado Cilantro 1 lime Taco sauce of your choice Cilantro dressing (or something comparable) Diced jalapeños Shredded Mexican cheese Handful of tortilla chips

Instructions Dice the bell pepper, yellow onion and Roma tomatoes

Chop a handful of cilantro

Thaw corn in microwave

In a small pot heat up the can of beans

Cook the soyrizo or other meat in a pan at the same time (if you are using meat you will need to season to your liking)

Heat rice in microwave (if using uncooked rice have it ready before everything)

Grab a big bowl and put rice down. Add the cilantro and lime and toss together

Now add everything else however you want. Remember this is a completely fluid meal, add or takeout any ingredient you feel. Get creative with it! DON’T FORGET TO ADD THE AVOCADO AND SAUCES!!

NICK VENTIMIGLIA - GRAYSCALE

HERBIE’S HOMEMADE CHICKEN TAQUITOS

Servings: 12 Calories: 241 Prep time: 20 min Cook time: 20 min Total time: 40 min

Ingredients 3oz cream cheese 1/4 cup salsa of your choice 1 tablespoon lime juice 1 1/2 teaspoon of taco seasoning 2 fresh cloves of garlic, minced 3 tablespoons cilantro or parsley 2 scallions diced 2 cups shredded cooked chicken or whatever protein you desire 1 cup Mexican blend cheese or whatever you want 12 6in flour tortillas Cooking spray Kosher salt

Instructions Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, mix together the cream cheese, salsa, lime juice, taco seasoning, garlic, cilantro, and scallions until well combined and creamy. Add in the cooked chicken and cheese; stir to thoroughly combine.

Working with a few tortillas at a time, heat them in the microwave between two paper towels until they are soft enough to roll (about 10 seconds).

Spoon 3 tablespoons of the chicken mixture onto the lower third of a tortilla. Roll the tortilla tightly.

Place the rolled tortilla seam side down on the baking sheet. Repeat with remaining tortillas until the mixture is gone, making sure the taquitos are not touching each other.

Spray the tops lightly with cooking spray and sprinkle with a little kosher salt (don’t skip the salt!)

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until crisp and golden.

Serve with salsa, sour cream, or guacamole.

BALSAC THE JAWS 'O DEATH - GWAR

I offered up my recipes for Feline Fricassee and Poodle Wellington but my publicist informed me that things hadn't yet gotten to the point where most people are ready to eat their pets. Instead, here is a recipe that you should be able to throw together without having to take that dreaded trip to the supermarket. 

Now more than ever, everyone should be able to hunt and kill their own food. So the first thing you will need to do is grab your favorite battleaxe, knife or shotgun and go in your backyard. Look for the happy yellow flowers that are probably taking over your poorly manicured lawn. Pick as many of these as you can find, making sure to pull them out from the roots keeping the long dark green leaves intact. You may be asking, “What do I need this shotgun for?” The weapon is in case your neighbor sees you and tries to shake hands!

DOOMSDAY DANDELIONS 

Ingredients Dandelion greens 1/2 cup olive oil 3 tablespoons vinegar (red wine vinegar or balsamic work best but whatever kind you can find in your cupboard. It is the apocalypse after all) 1 tablespoon mustard (Dijon if you've got it but who am I kidding, you only have that horrible yellow crap!) 2 cloves garlic minced Salt and pepper 2 teaspoons dry herb (use whatever you can find. What are you saving that stuff for?)

Instructions Pick the flowers off the dandelion greens (these are edible too, I suggest beer battering them and frying them, but that's another recipe and I'm not getting paid for this). 

Trim the hairy roots from the greens and discard. 

Wash all the dirt from the greens, cut them in half at the base keeping the leaves attached and soak in clean cold water. 

Wisk all other ingredients together until they are a cohesive solution. 

Drain and pat dry the greens and dress them with the vinaigrette. 

Enjoy by yourself!!

SCHUYLAR CROOM - HE IS LEGEND

VEGGIE PASTA WITH VEGAN ASS WHITE SAUCE

Ingredients 1 medium onion chopped 3 cloves of garlic Red bell pepper julienned Broccoli florets Mushrooms sliced thin Zucchini halved and sliced Yellow squash quartered and sliced 1 or 4 splashes of white wine

Finisher Sauce 1/4 cup of unsweetened oat milk 1 or 2 tbs coconut oil 1/4 cup vegan mayo A few handfuls of vegan cheese (I used a vegan pepper jack by Daiya and a bit of Follow Your Heart Parmesan) 1/3 cup of Nutritional yeast Fresh basil

Herbs and Spices Kosher Salt Fresh ground pepper Herbes de Provence Some other optional shit

Pasta Fettuccine noodles ( I like that Ancient Grain in the blue box.)

Instructions Boil salted water for your noodles and in a separate pot boil a few cups of water to blanche your broccoli. You’ll be mad if your water is not boiling before you start sautéing your veg... that shit goes quick, watched pots never boil.

In a large saucepan over med/high heat: Sauté onion for about 5 minutes until it is soft and almost translucent. Add chopped garlic until that smell wakes up your girlfriend. Boom you’re cooking. Salt and pepper that junk.

Add the peppers, mushrooms, zucchini and squash, hit it with some more salt and pepper. I like to throw in some Herbes de Provence and a TINY SPRINKLE of cayenne (a little goes a long way) plus some truffle salt because I’m fancy.

By now the lil pot should be boiling. Throw those broccoli guys in there and when they turn dark ass green drain them and throw them in the pot with the other veggies.

Shit’s all steamy now. It smells crazy good. Your girlfriend and your dog are in the kitchen salivating.

Hit those veggies with some white wine. I say a few dashes, but you’ll know. You’re gonna want to let that cook off for 3-5 minutes.

Maybe you’ve already put your noodles in. If so, they’re ready to drain. If not, get to it 9 minutes after the water starts boiling again (read the box)

Now your noodles are in the strainer. Make your partner divide that into bowls.

After the wine has cooked off, add the veganaise, coconut oil, vegan cheeses and the nutritional yeast and stir all of that up until melty and gooey and combined with the veggies. I like the throw in about half a cup of chopped sliced basil and leave a little for a garnish after you’ve topped your pasta with this creamy ass veggie goodness.

OH! Pro tip: Garlic bread. (Do this 40 minutes ago before starting anything else.)

Take 2 heads of garlic and peel most of the skin off but leave bulb intact.

Chop the very top of the head off the garlic to expose the clove (like 1/16 of the top).

Place it in tinfoil and close it up around the sides. Douse with a generous amount of olive oil and salt and pepper all over that opening on the bulb and close the foil up tight around the top. Create a little oven inside your oven.

Bake at 375 for 40 minutes. You’ll smell it.

Let it cool well.

Toast a loaf of French bread.

Those little garlic cloves will pop out like little teardrops of pure heaven. Smear that junk on your toasted bread and thank me later. The oil is now roasted garlic oil. You could drizzle that on the bread too or over the damn pasta that’s in the bowl.

(Be careful. You will want to skip the steps of letting the bulbs cool. They are unforgivingly hot and will burn your flesh.)

[flyingblackhawk]

Pasta Clintasha fic 1,977 words - After the debrief, Clint drives home. He troops into his apartment, strips off his clothes, and tries to shower off the last week. It’s been punishing, and he falls into his bed without much of a thought for anything but his soft pillow. When he wakes, he goes about his day as he normally does when he gets a day off. He eats, watches movies, and naps. He sends Natasha a checkin text. She’s fine. Good. It’s two days before he notices anything is off. The mission was bad - worse than a lot of their previous exploits, and he’s considering going to see the SHIELD shrink. Natasha seems okay, but when he sees her at a meeting at HQ, she looks pale and tired. Clint shakes it off. She’s probably not sleeping well. He knows the feeling. 

It’s not until he drops by her place to check on her that he realises something is actually wrong. Her kitchen is spotless, and there is no food to be found. He chalks it up to post-mission takeout, but there are no containers anywhere. Natasha is in the living room, curled up on the couch. She wakes from her doze when he enters.

“Hey,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” he returns. “You okay?”

Dumb question. She nods, like she always does, but he’s not convinced. She’s still pale, and his mind is starting to connect the dots between the lack of supplies in her kitchen and the way her fingers are trembling as she brushes her hair off her face.

“Nat,” he says, his voice gentle, “when did you last eat?”

“Earlier,” she says, waving him off. She knows he’s onto her, and gives him a sharp look that has no real edge to it.

“When? What did you have?”

“I had a coffee a couple of hours ago.”

“Coffee doesn’t count. When did you last eat a meal?”

She huffs. “I don’t know. Bosnia.”

“What?”

“Clint-”

“That was three days ago, Nat.”

She looks at him, as if thinking of something to say. She clearly draws a blank, and Clint sighs, his hand landing on her leg. “You’ve got to eat,” he says, lamely. It’s not convincing. Natasha curls up tighter, and rests her pale cheek on the cushions.

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. It’s an outrageous lie. Clint has been struggling too, but at least he had some goddam cheerios for breakfast.

“I’m going to bring you some groceries,” he says.

“Whatever.”

He leaves her to her wallowing, and makes a determined trip to the nearest bodega, where he stocks up on essentials and a few non-essential treats. Arms laden with bags, he makes his way back to her building, and up to her apartment. She is dozing on the couch again, so he unpacks the bags and slings some bread in the toaster, then shuffles around in the cupboard for the peanut butter he just put in there.

Natasha rolls off the couch and comes to watch him, arms folded, a bemused look on her face.

“Why do you care if I eat?” she asks.

“Because humans do this weird thing where if they don’t eat, they die.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, brandishing the peanut butter he’s just located at her. “Humans need to eat. That’s science.”

She watches him like someone at the zoo. He takes the toast when it’s done and spreads peanut butter on it. He bites into one slice, holding it between his teeth, and hands her the other slice. She looks at it with overt distaste, and sets it down beside her on the bench. Clint takes a measured bite of his own toast, and watches her in silence. She rolls her eyes again and Clint is surprised she’s not dizzy from the amount of times she’s done that. She picks up her toast slice, and takes a small bite. He watches her as she chews it, and swallows. She waits for him to leave her alone. She should definitely know by now that he won’t, not until she’s eaten the damn toast.

“You’re very irritating,” she says, through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“Takes one to know one,” he mutters, as he puts the peanut butter away.

-

She doesn’t eat anything for dinner, and Clint puts the leftover stir-fry in a container in the fridge, just in case she wants to wait until he’s gone. He doesn’t have high hopes though, so he leaves her in the late evening, still pale, still tired, curled up on the couch with a book.

Clint forms a plan, and sleeps. When he wakes, he goes straight back to Natasha’s place, via the bodega. He knows he’s the only one who has a key to her place, so hopefully she won’t shoot him in the head.

He enters her apartment, and all the lights are off. She’s still asleep, which is unusual for seven in the morning. Clint chalks it up to her eating almost nothing for four days, and gets to work on breakfast. By the time Natasha emerges from her room, he’s laid out a spread of waffles, bacon, syrup and various fruit all over the table.

“Do you like it?” he asks, gesturing to the feast. “The waffles are only heart shaped because the bodega only had heart shaped ones in the freezer.”

“You made me frozen waffles?” she asks. He passes her a coffee, which she takes with what nearly looks like a smile.

“Hey,” he protests. “I’m working with what the bodega has to offer. Besides, you don’t have a waffle iron.”

“Third cupboard from the left on the top.”

He huffs. “Okay, I didn’t think to check.”

She laughs, and it’s the best sound Clint’s heard all week. Natasha nibbles on the corner of a waffle, eats a strawberry, and spends the rest of the meal focused on her coffee. Clint jokes, keeping it light, but he is aching for the woman in front of him, and at the same time, he’s frustrated.

“Medical won’t clear you,” he says, when they have both reached the bottom of their coffees. “Not if you’re not eating.”

She sits back in her chair and looks at him. “You’ll tell them?”

He shrugs, a little helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? Stand by and let you go back into the field before you’re ready?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

She rolls her eyes. As she gets up to leave, Clint wonders if they do eye-rolling in the Olympics. Natasha could eye-roll for America. Or Russia, he supposes.

Her bedroom door slams, and Clint clears away the breakfast. The leftovers go into the fridge beside the untouched stir-fry from the night before. He heads out, but not for long. Just after midday, he’s back in her kitchen.

“Seriously?” she asks. She comes into the kitchen, where Clint is pressing paninis. “You’re still doing this?”

“I’m doing this until you eat,” he says, sliding one sandwich onto a plate and cutting it diagonally. “This one’s prosciutto, provolone and pesto. It’s amazing.”

“No thanks.”

He clenches his teeth. “The other one is chicken, brie and rocket. Also good.”

“Clint.”

“What?” he asks. He swings around with two plates in hand to find her leaning against the door frame. She looks unsteady, and as he watches, she slips and grabs the frame. He sets the plates down and hurries over to her.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s alright. Here, lean on me.”

She does, and he helps her over to her seat.

“You’re killing me, Romanoff,” he sighs, his hand still on her shoulder. “I know it was a bad mission. We’re both messed up. But starving yourself to death isn’t going to help you, and it certainly isn’t going to help me.”

She nods, and then shakes her head. Clint watches his partner struggle for words, something he’s only seen her do a handful of times.

“I just need…”

“Tell me,” he murmurs, after she trails off. “Tell me what you need, so I can help you.”

“I need to be in control,” she says. She looks up at him, and all traces of the Black Widow are gone. All Clint sees is a vulnerable, tired Natasha, looking at him with a pleading face he knows she never shows to anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll figure it out. Come on.”

He helps her over to the couch, where she curls up under a blanket. She dozes off almost instantly, and Clint leaves for yet another trip to the bodega. The guy behind the counter gives him a welcoming, if puzzled smile. He collects everything he needs, pays, and goes back up to Natasha’s apartment. He sets it all up in the kitchen, then goes to wake Natasha.

“What’s this?” she asks, when he shows her his setup.

“Pasta,” he says. “Come on.”

He ushers her over to the bench.

“Remember the first time we made pasta?” he asks. She nods, and a little smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“I’d never made it before,” she recalls. Her hands move to the stove dials and she lights the flame on the hob. Clint has already filled a pot with salted water, and she moves it onto the flame.

“You threw pasta at the wall.”

He chuckles at the memory. “That’s the best way to check if it’s ready.”

“You could just taste it.”

“Less fun.”

She laughs, and opens the packet of pasta. When the water boils, she slides the pasta into the pot.

“Remember the sauce we made that night?”

She nods again. “Carbonara.”

Clint gestures to island bench, where the ingredients are waiting for her. Natasha looks more relaxed now, so he takes her by the waist and steers her over to where he’s laid out a chopping board.

“Garlic,” he prompts her. She chops the cloves finely. Unprompted, she takes the pancetta and chops that too. When she pauses, Clint hands her a small frying pan.

As he watches, she fries the pancetta and the garlic. When it’s done, she moves on to the next step without instruction, mixing eggs, cream and cheese in a bowl.

“The pasta,” he reminds her. Natasha drains the pasta, and she gracefully folds the mixture through the steaming pasta. Clint watches, and she stirs it until it’s ready and then ladles it into two bowls.

“There’s cheese for topping,” he says, pointing. She grabs it, and sprinkles a little on each serve.

Natasha takes the two bowls to the table and sits. Clint grabs them each a beer from one of the bodega bags, and passes her one.

“Well cooked,” he says, leaning over to inhale the fragrance of the food. It brings back memories of that night in a dingy apartment, long before they had money or coworkers or anything much to worry about except keeping each other alive. He remembers a young woman, so proud of the simple meal she’d cooked, and eating that meal out of plastic takeout containers, sitting on a windowsill while rain fell outside.

Clint is so taken in by this vision of the past that he doesn’t notice Natasha eating her pasta. She is enjoying every mouthful, lost in the same memory he’s drifting in.

“Seconds?” she asks. He blinks. She’s already moving over to the pot to scoop more pasta onto her plate. He lets the warm, accomplished feeling roll through him until there’s nothing he can do but smile.

“Please,” he says, holding out his plate.

-

Later, when they’ve abandoned their plates and finished their drinks, Natasha reaches across the couch for his hand. Clint laces their fingers together, and brings her hand to his lips for a rare moment of closeness.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. He doesn’t have to say anything. He just squeezes her hand.