#im defs assuming she means passover but ajay doesn't know that lol

[ajay-benitez]

Friday Night Blues || Dylan + Adrien

@dylan-meir​:

ajay-bennett​:

[Most people mistake Adrien for a social creature; himself included. For the most part, he enjoys company when he has it, he’s easy going when it comes to meeting new people, and he’s pretty outgoing. 

That said, he spends an inordinate amount of his personal time on his own. For a while there, he’d sort of convinced himself it had something to do with the klepto thing. A nifty side effect of being a Bad Boy. But that was definitely a lie to make himself feel cool and suave and debonaire (although not really), because it was definitely a lot more to do with the Being-Trans Thing and the Social and General Anxiety thing. T-to-the-fuckin-M. 

Anyway, he doesn’t mind his time alone or anything. Half the time he doesn’t even notice. It’s just, when he thinks about it, he supposes it’s a little weird. He’s like a… lone wolf. He wanders the Colony on his own until someone crosses his path (accidentally or accidentally on purpose), for him to bother (he’s not an evil wolf, just an irritating, marginally lonely one). But he wouldn’t say he seeks company. Just… stumbles across it from time to time and enjoys it. He could look a little deeper into why he still hasn’t made any deep, lasting connections at the Colony, or even in his life, especially post D-Day but he…. won’t. Maybe Dr. C will force him to at some point but that’s… Future Ajay’s problem. 

He’s solo-wandering again this evening (let’s call it Han Solo Wandering because that’s automatically cooler, right?) and he’s definitely drawn towards the kitchen at the smell of baking bread. Ugh. UgghhHhHhhhh. Nothing like the smell of fresh bread. And they smell it so rarely these days. Not that it’s even hard to make fresh bread. It’s one of the basics. The Prairie People had bread, they ground their own wheat for fuck’s sakes so, they could totally have fresh bread now at the Colony every day if they were so inspired—as long as no one goes and fucking contaminates hundreds of pounds of flour again, mind you. 

But they eat a lot of canned stuff these days, and frozen stuff, and whatever meat they bring in from the hunting trips (which have seemed painfully sparse lately). He figures the lack of fresh bread thing is honestly just plain laziness. The fuckers. (Though, has he done anything to change that personally? Of course not. He’s a lazy fucker, too.) 

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see or find, but he’d definitely not been expecting just one, pouty looking girl and an offer to join her. He’d figured some sort of stealing or abuse of his power would have to be involved. But this is much simpler.

He grins, stepping forward, stomach already rumbling.] Um, does a bear shit in the woods?? [He pauses, winces a little.] Sorry, horrible Dad Joke I got from my father. I never even laughed but he said it so many times it’s like, stuck in there like a fucking sliver, [he intones, gesturing loudly at his head.]

[He approaches the counter she’s standing at, flopping into one of the stools.] So what inspired this? If you’re offering it to me, some nosey rando, I’m assuming it wasn’t a special occasion? I’m Adrien, by the way. But you can call me Ajay, if you want. Most people do. 

___

[One of the reasons Dylan has always loved Friday nights and, in close relation, challah was their ability to bring people together. When she was little, playing out in the fields with her cousins, the smell of challah against the setting sun would always bring them running back inside. When she was on the road, on a drive with her aunts and uncles or, after D-day, running supplies between colonies, she’d bring a chunk with her. Even stale and without any of the usual trappings, it tasted like home.]

[The man in the doorway sounds like home, too. Not in any identifiable way- he couldn’t be less Australian, and he doesn’t sound like any of her relatives. But the way he answers so automatically, with that cheesy joke all father-figures are almost legally required to make. It’s such a familiar song and dance, Dylan knows it by heart. ‘What time is it? Time for you to get a watch.’ ‘I’m hungry. Hi Hungry, I’m Uncle Henry.’ His answer, and her own memories, are enough to make her smile with all the warmth of the steaming bread.] I know exactly what you mean. And most people call me Dylan. It’s short for Dylan.

It’s kind of a special occasion. Shabbat. It’s been a while, but since the holidays are coming up… but we used to do this every week, and my aunt would drag in anyone who happened to be at the house, so I think it’d be worse if I didn’t offer you any. Besides, do you really need an excuse for fresh bread?

☀

[It takes him a beat to realize he hadn’t misheard her—she’d just made a very quick and dry joke. The kind that’s not really a joke as it doesn’t have a punch line, so much as it is a quippy and wry remark, playful but subtle. Ah, good. He likes a gal with a sense of humour. And an affinity for baking and sharing those baked goods. 

He shifts her an amused look and a grin.] Cool. Alright then, Dylan. A comedian too, I see. [He smirks, but his mouth waters as the smell of the bread wafts even closer, and his stomach actually growls. Oh hell yes, this is gonna be good.] But no, you’re right, definitely need zero excuses for fresh bread. Bring on the good stuff. I could stuff my face with fresh bread all day. In fact, throw me a beret and call Jean-Pierre, because I could live off this shit. [He’s clearly not a comedian, but in his defence, her ‘not-joke’ hadn’t been that funny either. But the point of ‘not-jokes’ are to be a smart ass, not to be funny. At least, in his books, that’s the case.] 

What holidays are in March? Or is that what you mean by Shabbat? Forgive me my ignorance, but I’m not exactly up to speed on religious holidays. At least not outside the commercialized ones with the Hallmark overlords, [he adds with a grin.]